Sihanoukville, Cambodia

I have to write fast as I don't know when the next power surge will be. Power's been going out steadily for the last couple of hours, but is still, unbelievably, better than the power situation in Sangklaburi.

I am staying at a place called Otres Beach, which is the second to last beach area in Sihanoukville. It is filled to the brim with white people. Backpackers of all types, but mostly those who are wanderers and are in fact lost to the world. The drugs and alcohol are free flowing in this place, the parties are many. To some people, this is heaven. To me, it is just another beach resort.

My favorite part of being here has been getting to chat with the local girls who come by to sell me bracelets, take hair from my legs, arms and face, give massage, sell fruit, pedicures, manicures, and sunglasses. About 20 times an hour. They are very persistent and do make a good deal of money, which is a bit of a conundrum: paying for these services keeps these young girls and boys on the beach and out of school, but also pays for their livelihood. Talking to them I find the same story, which they have learned to tell over the years: I work hard in the sun on the beach all day and study at night. I have to pay for my mother, my father, my brothers and sisters. I have boyfriend in Germany, Russia or the US. He will pay for me one day.

I get to talking to them and crave more. I crave their real story, where they were born, what their parents did, how was life during the Khmer Rouge? If I can just get past that mask, which I have managed to do on a couple occasions (granted it has cost me all the hair on both my legs, painfully removed one strand at a time via string and 2 pairs of Ray Ban sunglasses). I want more.

Today I got a motorbike taxi into town (about 15 minutes away from the beach) to book my boat and hotel on Koh Rong where I will stay for the next 2 nights. On the way back to the beach the driver asked if it was OK if he dropped off the huge bag of shrimp he was carrying at a friend's house. I said sure. He turned off the main road, past the markets, and into an alley way with a huge cement fence on both sides. He drives straight for a few minutes then reaches the slum. Thousands of little shacks made of corrugated metal and old plastic banners greeted me, along with rivers of sewage, mountains of garbage, and a handful of smiling children in only their underwear. As the driver kept going, back, back, back, winding through the neighborhood, over a bridge that I swear would collapse any second, and around tight corners that should not have accommodated the two of us, I became a little scared. Stories of white girls being kidnapped and sold into sex slavery came to mind. Then I took a deep breath, looked at the smiling children, and said whatever will be, will be.

We came to a stop and were immediately surrounded by 10 beautiful kids who spoke not a lick of English. The driver says to me, ok you wait two minute, I come back. I sat there, gripped my bag and tried my best to communicate with the kids. They managed to tell me their names, which I promptly forgot. They were lovely. No trying to grab my bag, or ask for money or miming a camera for me to take a picture of them. Nothing like the Thai children I have encountered. They all have this beautiful dark, wavy hair and dark skin. It must be said, Cambodian children are prettier than Thai children (and more well behaved by first sight).

My driver came back 10 minutes later as he promised and on we went. He took me the back way to the beach, passing brand spanking new condominiums sporting a Lexus and Mercedes in front and even a fucking Hilton resort. Which goes to show you how beautiful this place is, but also the disparity that exists. I can't wrap my head around it. The resorts are good, in a way. They employ locals, giving them a job and keeping them off the beach. As long as the resorts continue to use natural resources, which the ones here on Otres do, then it will sit OK with me. But I just have a feeling that the Hilton and her sister hotels are paying the employees around $2/day while charging Farangs around $100 night to have the privilege to stay in their place. Also, next to the Hilton are the classic metal huts that the workers live in.

It is much different than the poverty level in Sangkla. Jungle people live in the jungle where they have what seems like a very nice place in comparison, and more land. And more opportunity. With all the NGOs that are operating out of that town these days, the jungle people are getting to be better off. Not to say that they don't still need us, they do, but I think they need us in a different way. Seeing these kids here, seeing the way they live... well, it kind of makes me want to start all over again. Of course I don't know the story like I know the one of Sangkla, so it is hard to say for sure what is going on.

I am excited about my island adventure tomorrow, and even more excited about Phnom Penh on Tuesday. I hope to see a bit more of the real Cambodia the further from the beach I get. So far, I really like what I see. And the Khmer smile. It speaks about a million words, tells stories of generations of suffering and overcoming.

I know I've fed you all a lot of information during my travels. I've told a lot of sad stories, and some inspirational ones. The latest story I can suggest to you is the story of the Khmer Rouge. Gruesome atrocities were committed against the Khmer people. And, I bet you didn't know this, but in the 70's during the Vietnam war the USA dropped more bombs on Cambodia than the total amount of bombs that were dropped in the entirety of World War II. Kind of makes me want to puke a little.

Anyhow. To be updated. It will be interesting going back to Sangkla in a week, I hope you all will join me for that post :)