Cambodge Conundrums

Here I am once again.

 

Two years later, back on the coast of Cambodia.  Sihanoukville.  Apart from being ripped off by my taxi driver, nearly colliding with two random convoys of cows that were herded onto the road and then suffering a tyre blow out at 120kph on the National Highway (by western standards, calling it a highway is very generous), getting to Sihanoukville was rather simple.

At first, I stayed with a friend who is already living down here and rents his own house, however that couldn't go on forever and I wasn't 100% sure I wanted to stay in Sihanoukville, so I decided to get my own space and went for a cheapish hotel I had stayed at the last time I was here.  I figured I would spend some time soaking up the atmosphere and feel of the place again and see if I felt it would work with me enough to stay here long term.

Like I said before, two years had passed since I had been at the hotel in question, and man had the vibe (and owners) changed.  Upon arrival at the front desk a Khmer man working there informed me that the owner wasn't awake yet.  Fair enough.  It was early Saturday morning, maybe he had a big night.  We agreed I would put my stuff in the room then come back later to negotiate a long term deal for room rental with the owner.  I set up my room and got everything in order, then headed out to buy some necessities and have a look around.

In the last two years this place has _exploded_.  There is so much construction going on here that it won't be long before Sihanoukville becomes just another tourist swamped Asian tick box on the travellers to do list.  There is now a brand new luxury hotel next door to the one I am staying at.  And I mean luxury.  There are new guesthouses popping up everywhere, not to mention the significant increase in the number of other businesses around the area.

I finished up my walk and returned at about 10:30am.  Nope, still not awake.  Back to my room and onto the internet for a while to pass the time.  I meander back out to the reception / bar at lunch time and notice a bunch of gnarly looking dudes sitting at the bar.  The Khmer man comes over to me and points out the owner to me.  One of the gnarly looking dudes.

I walk over to them and wait for a moment to interject in their conversation, but no such moment arises.  The reception man gets his attention for me and he slowly turns to me as if he is made of old dry leather.  It is now that I realise that this man is so amazingly stoned that I don't think he even knew I was there in the first place.  I'm talking, blood red eyeballs, droopy eyes that were just open a slit.  The fat joint the man next to him was holding confirmed this.  They all seemed to be several pints of beer deep into the day too, judging by the empty glasses.  They appeared to be part of a motorcycle gang too, according to their black leather cuts they were wearing.

He spoke very quietly and with an aloofness that was disconcerting.  He indicated a price for a long term stay and I said I would think about it and was heading out for lunch.

I knew where I was going because I wanted a seafood pizza.  Ecstatic Pizza.  I've been there before and they make good food.  I sit down and order my pizza.  A short time later a man comes running up from the beach with what I suspect is the seafood for my pizza, in a bag, and heads into the kitchen.  Cambodia is like that.  Anyway, while I wait, I notice some of the new construction going on across the road and the Cambodian style construction scaffolding that is being used.  Consisting of crusty dry old pieces of wood and bamboo, these builders seem to manage perfectly ok and build multiple story buildings like this.  Yet another stark contrast to the west.

Scaffolding

My pizza arrives.  So hungry am I, that I just mow through the whole thing in about 15 minutes.  I remember thinking to myself, I wonder why they put so much spinach on it.. or is it parsley.  I finish up and return back to my room and plop down at my computer and start doing internet things.  I get a sudden spell of dizziness, like my head is rolling off forward and the effect echoes.  I suddenly realise that I had just eaten a weed pizza.  

Dammit all.  I remember going to a similar shop called happy herb pizza where you can get these pizzas and I even had one last time I was here, but this time I DID NOT want to do this.  I know that you have to specifically ask for you pizza to be made "happy" and I certainly did not do this.  Random pizza spiking huh.  I plunge deeper into a state of zombification and eventually have to lay down on the bed and enter a weed coma.  I have nothing to fear though, for I have advanced blanket.

Advanced Blanket MKIII

Several hours later I awake and all is good with the world.  I head out to a supermarket to have a look at the prices of alcohol.  I remember that the last time I was here, it was so obscenely cheap compared to Australia and I wasn't let down.  I find my current favourite spirit, Canadian Club, sitting there invitingly for only $9.60 USD.  Back home it is about 3-4 times that amount.  Oh the humanity.  I resisted though and only looked.

Sweet Sweet Canadian Club

There were other ridiculous prices on quality booze, such as $25 USD for a litre bottle of Grey Goose vodka.  I'm sure you can imagine how cheap your favourite is.

That night back at the hotel, I think it is about early morning 1-2am, obnoxiously loud people arrive in the hallway outside my room being so staggeringly inconsiderate and rude to other guests.  I decided then, combined with that, the stoned biker gang owner and his mates, the air conditioner shutting off and on over and over in the night, being mauled by mosquitoes coming in under the huge gap in the door frame, that I was going to switch hotels on Monday.  The next night, the same thing, except sans mosquitoes due to me plugging the door gap with a towel.  Loud ass idiots waking everyone up with their antics.  Grrrrrrr.
Next morning, I get up, pack all my stuff up, call a tuk tuk, pay my bill and haul off to a much swisher hotel just down the road.  I get set up in my room and head downstairs to give my passport to the receptionist so she can make a copy of it (this is normal in Cambodia).  I hand her my passport, still in it's plastic protective sleeve.  She then attempts to remove the passport from the sleeve by pulling on a departure card that is stapled to one of the pages, which is poking out the bottom.  *rip*  She ends up tearing the passport page that the card was stapled to, vertically down to the mid point.  Oh crap.
I contact the Australian embassy in Phnom Penh to find out if my brand new passport is now kaput due to this damage.  A very helpful man informs me that he believes it should be fine but he will need to run it by a special team back in Australia.  So I await for a phone call tomorrow morning with news as to the fate of my passport and whether or not I need to fork out for another.

Nice one Cambodia.