What happens in Sihanoukville…

The TESOL training continued for two more weeks in three different countries. About one third of the group stayed in Phnom Penh, another third moved to Ho Chi Minh City (Vietnam), and the others came to Thailand. For a moment, I considered staying in Cambodia. Later I realized that my heart is really in Thailand, so I followed my original plan.

Splitting from the big group in Sihanoukville was extremely sad. We had arrived there on Friday evening and had dinner at Serendipity Beach, which was the next beach South from Victoria Beach, where we were staying. The restaurant was literally on the sand, very close to the shore. Dozens of kids approached us to sell us bracelets and fireworks. We all lounged on the big cushions of the round chairs and ate and drank… Maybe a little too much of the second one. For sure too much! It was a great bonding time. Matt even helped Vicky, our ever-complaining older classmate, to wet her feet into the ocean. We played and danced with the kids. Some of us tried to continue the good times at a club but we were exhausted from the long day and the excess of alcohol and ended up taking motorcycle rides to the hotel. As fun as it was, I swore not to have any margaritas for a long, long time.

On Saturday Brian and I spent the day riding a motorcycle to other beaches and to a market where we ate worms, crickets and banana-sticky rice rolls. Others went to Ko Rong and experienced a near-to-death experience: they ventured into the rocky island and, after many falls and cuts at the slippery and sharp boulders had to swim into the sea to be rescued by a boat, which brought them back to the shore. They lost their cameras and ipads.

The evening on Saturday was quieter. We had dinner at downtown Victoria beach and hanged out at Airport, a bar on the beach that has for decorations a real airplane, a car cemented into a wall, a disco ball and a platform with a pole. We sat at the beach in total darkness. We tried to see the reflection of the stars on the sand, by stomping on it although we could not. We did see, however, the neon plankton. A nod of sadness started growing in my chest, thinking about how everything ends, sometimes too fast.

On Sunday morning we parted ways. Gayla and I hugged and cried watching the bus leave with the people that were going back to Phnom Penh and to Ho Chi Minh City. I will never forget Matt’s hand stuck on the rear window of the bus, as a sign of goobye.

For hours later eight of us were crossing the border to Thailand. After our first Thai lunch we continued our trip to Pattaya, the land of commercial love.

Goodbye Cambodia, hello Thailand!