Sea of love

A day after moving into my new home, I left to go to another province for the last leg of the field work for this project I’m doing for UNICEF Cambodia. I love to travel, but I wasn’t comfortable leaving the house in total disarray. However, staying was also out of the question so I went.

I had only been to Sihanoukville once before, which is a bit strange because Sihanoukville is the holiday spot for locals and expats. The first (and last) time I went there was in late 2004, and I stayed one night only. I got there in the morning, proceeded to a couple of meetings that lasted till early evening, slept in a hotel on the beach front then went back to Phnom Penh the next morning.

I got to Sihanoukville at around noon on Sunday, where I was picked up by a motorcycle-riding staff of the guest house where the rest of the survey team were billeted. I called Poeu, my research assistant as soon as I settled into my room and asked how I could go to the survey site. He told me that the commune was about 15 km away from the city proper. I made arrangements for a motorcycle to take me there, which I estimated to be about 30-40 minutes by motorcycle. As it turned out, the guy driving the motorcycle (a nephew of the guest house owner) didn’t know where I was supposed to go, in spite of the clear instructions given him. But I didn’t know this, until after driving for more than an hour under the scorching sun, followed by rain and then the sun again. After a series of phone calls to Poeu, fixing a flat tire, and another hour of driving, I finally got to the survey site. When the work for the day was done, the survey team and I went to Occheuteal Beach, swam and hung around its cream-colored sand eating grilled squid and noodle soup that were being peddled in the area. I saw that the hotel I stayed in before was still standing and looked thriving. For dinner we ate more seafood at a local restaurant then stopped for dessert at a road-side eatery. A nice way to end the day after that mishap.

The relaxed atmosphere of Sihanoukville belies its colorful but tragic past. Carved from the jungle and mountains by the French in 1964, Sihanoukville (named after the ruling Prince that time), the only deep-sea port in newly-independent Cambodia was the French’s way of reinvigorating their waning power over the region. Its golden beaches attracted the elite but when the monarchy was overthrown in 1970, the town fell on hard times. The Khmer Rouge renamed it Kampong Som and used the Independent Hotel as target practice site. The port was bombed by the US Air Force when the KR hijacked an American container ship. After the KR, the highway to Sihanoukville became notorious for banditry and the beaches remained empty. Today the signs of civil war can hardly be seen in the town. The Cambodian government reported that about 320,000 tourists visited Sihanoukville in 2006.  

The next day we woke up to an overcast morning. We rushed towards breakfast. In my previous trips I have always brought a jacket, which I was only able to use in Stung Treng. After not being able to use it on the 2 suceeding trips, I didn’t bring one to Sihanoukville. This proved to be a mistake as rain started to fall the moment we headed off to the survey site. Bun Ly, the guy I was riding with, wore a raincoat to protect the documents and his laptop while I only had my fisherman’s hat and shades to protect me from the rain. The half-hour ride to the survey site felt like forever under the driving rain. When we got to the survey site, I was soaked. That afternoon, on the way back to the guest house, rain started to pour again but stopped shortly. We took advantage of this to take some photos by the road, which zigzagged its way to the hilly countryside. Spectacular view, I might say. The drives to and fro the survey site delighted me immensely, despite the risk of riding a motorcycle sans helmet, on a highway with high traffic of cargo trucks. As the sun set, we hit the beach again but the waves were too huge for comfort. We also went to the same places for dinner and dessert.

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Moving on up

When I arrived here in Cambodia on April 2004, I only had a luggage, which was just natural because I was just on holiday. Three months later I went back to Manila, decided that I would give life in Cambodia a try. It was my first time to live away from my family, my first time to be on my own.

I lived with friends for a while until saving enough to find my own apartment on November of the same year. My first apartment was a one-room flat that was on the second floor (the equivalent of the third floor in the Philippines). I immensely enjoyed shopping for things I needed for my new home. But aside from the basics, I didn’t dare purchase anything else. My freelance career was just budding, and I had a feeling that my flat wouldn’t be my flat for a long time.

Eight months later I moved into my second flat. This was bigger than my previous flat, with two bedrooms, lots of windows and an L-shaped verandah that faced the quiet street. I had with me three boxes of household and work stuff and a luggage containing my clothes. 

Four years later, I found myself moving again to a new flat. A friend is moving back to Manila to study and the flat he shared with another flat was too much to resist for me. I had, after all, lived in it in my first few months in Cambodia, and I liked my time there. Also after 4 years of living alone, I found myself wanting to share a household (not in the romantic sense) with someone. I just didn’t realize that moving would be such a colossal production.

Think of how Cecile De Mille must have felt while The Ten Commandments was being made. Or Mother Lily when Peque Gallaga was making Once Upon A Time.

My present work schedule allowed me just a few days to prepare for this move. In between travelling to the provinces for field work, I packed four years of my life into cardboard and plastic boxes that defied my calculations. My procrastination slowed me down as well, as I tried to sort things that I wanted to get rid of and those I wanted to take with me. I ended up taking them all.

Of course, it didn’t stop me from playing with the meters of bubble wrap I used in wrapping my things.

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