I know I've written about my 2-week trip already but I've realised that, upon reflection, there's so much more to be shared so here it is again in its entirety!
Two weeks break has enabled me to take in some of the other gems that Cambodia has to offer. From Phnom Penh I journeyed south to the seaside town of Kep, trekking around the national park which I had virtually all to myself. The mountainside provides amazing views of the surrounding coastline and distant bonfires from local villages.
I stayed a night in a bamboo hut on Koh Tonsay (Rabbit Island) which has no motor vehicles and electricity for only a few hours a day. It was good to be able to inform people of the plight of the Vietnamese and the work being done by the CMA in Siemreap.
From there, I took the bus to Kampot which is about 26km along the coast. There was a German guy on the bus who was a little too keen to join me to find a guesthouse in order to share a room to lower costs. Whilst it’s good to help people on the road, I had a gut feeling that this would not be a wise decision and despite repeatedly telling him I was a confirmed lone-traveller, he seemed to get increasingly agitated. I told him that if he had a problem, he knew where to find me but that he’d have to find a room elsewhere. Thankfully, he went on his way and I went off to find a pub with wi-fi so that I could follow the Cherries, which I managed to do.
The next day, I took a 100km bus ride to Sihanoukville which is a coastal town in southern Cambodia that sees many contrasts – from the opulence of the Russians who own significant portions of the area to the long-time Euro ex-pats who, by the look of them, perhaps really should think about going home. And then of course there’s the Khmers whose faces light up when attempts are made to communicate with them in their own language and when you smile and show them respect – that’s what their culture is all about..goodness knows what they must think of ours.
I hooked up with a French girl so we split tuk-tuk fares whilst trying to find accommodation. The middle beaches are over-crowded and the surrounding area is a tourist ghetto so we headed for Otres beach, with white sand and swaying palms. We found mushroom-shaped bamboo-thatched beach bungalows which even had a dormitory which was her preferred choice of accommodation. I had my own simple bungalow with just a thin mattress, pillow, towel and a hanging wickerwork light.
We chatted on the beach and it was obvious that she lived a hedonistic lifestyle but then that’s what many backpackers are all about: they travel to distant places to party and to be devoid of the cares and responsibilities of back home. She’d been talking about a book she was reading about people who have everything but still have something missing. So I gave her my testimony through which it was revealed to her what that missing something is. She listened intently to the story of how I came to Christ and although her response was one of respectful apathy, I prayed that my words would linger long in her memory and that those seeds, having been initially sown, would then be watered by the continued chain of divine appointment.
Anyway, as I spent the next day or so vomiting for England, I decided to move to another part of Sihanoukville where I could recuperate in the relative luxury of a room with air-conditioning.
I stumbled across a street in town full of bars and westerners who obviously aren’t in Cambodia to visit temples. I heard some of them discussing their previous night’s behaviour and it saddened me: these guys were British, probably retirees, and I thought to myself how sad it is that they don’t know any other way or if they do, choose to not adhere to it. It’s nice to be different from those who come here merely to corrupt and exploit the innocence of the local people.
I heard another Brit in an internet café the other day, shouting in English to try to make himself understood and quite frankly it was utterly embarrassing, everything I hate about Brits abroad; he then upped and left without paying.
At my accommodation, it was a shame though as I went down to reception to discover the normally-playful guesthouse dog lying in a pool of blood. I tried to find out what happened:
Me: “What’s happened to the dog?”
Receptionist: “Someone try to kill him”
Me: “Why ever would anyone want to do that??”
Receptionist: “So they can eat him.”
Well, I did ask.
The next morning I discovered that the dog had since died. I didn’t, however, ask how he was disposed of so I stuck to beans on toast at the guesthouse restaurant just in case.
So anyway, I spent time on the beach this week and Asia is a place where you can get hassled relentlessly on beaches but at Victory beach the Cambodians aren’t as full-on as other places I’ve experienced.
Before long though, I was approached by two young local women, one of whom wanted to deliver the services of manicure and pedicure and the other was selling fried lobster from a large basket carried above her head. Now let’s get this straight, I am not a regular at receiving such pampering but before long I was having my nails clipped and filed (although at times it felt like she was using an angle grinder).
I was being asked the usual questions: “Where your wife?” and “Why you no married?” whilst at the same time refusing the continued sales patter of the lady lobster seller, who couldn’t understand how I’d succumbed to the lure of a manicure whilst not desiring one of her once-fresh fried lobsters.
“Your skin velly bad - my lobster good for your skin” she said. “If you have lobster, your skin get velly good and you find velly nice wife when you go home!”
Even with such a high level of commitment to marketing creativity, I continued to resist and her lobsters remained at the mercy of the mid-day sun and on she went to find some custom.
Still having my nails done (sounds really weird saying that) I was talking to the girl in English and bits of broken Khmer about being a Christian and working with the Vietnamese. She said she was a Buddhist and when I asked her why, she said it was because her parents were. Amazingly, she then asked me why I was a Christian so I was able to tell her about Jesus and why He died, about grace, forgiveness and heaven. As she carried on clipping my nails I went on to share my testimony in part, in a way that I sensed would be relevant to her.
As I told her that Jesus loved her, her response was interesting. She asked how Jesus could love her whilst she didn’t love Him so I told her that He loved her anyway and that He had a plan for her life.
Unfortunately, I didn’t know her name but God does and my prayer is that it is a name that is written in the Book of Life. You know, it is a whole lot easier sharing Jesus when you realize that God is already at work in that person’s life.. and this encounter was God using me the way I’m wired and it is for reasons like this day that I am out here doing what I’m doing.
So, with a tinge of sadness, I left Sihanoukville for Phnom Penh and then back home to Siemreap. It wasn't without incident as the bus had another puncture and we had to stop off at a tyre-fitter's to have the spare put on. The spare, however, was bald and even had a split in it! Thankfully, we made it back OK :0)
Until next time
Dan
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