Mushroom Point

We were driven down via tuk-tuk to the spot where the coach had dropped us off just three days earlier. We were now waiting for a mini bus to drive us eastwards along the coast to SihanoukVille. The journey was estimated to take two and a half hours. However, since our journey from Phnom Penh to Kep had taken two hours longer than expected, we anticipated a slightly longer journey to our next destination. The mini bus arrived later than the scheduled departure time of 10:30. While we waited we discussed possible accommodation; we had agreed on the area of Otres Beach. SihanoukVille was now very popular with backpackers who were in search of a boozy beachy break. Serendipity beach offered booze boat trips and its nightlife boomed. We had had enough of Gangnam Style waking us up at 7am in Kaho San. Otres beach was a huge strip of white sand, warm shallow aqua waters and a choice of quiet, friendly and well rated guesthouses. So we had decided on our accommodation, Blair had bought a large bottle of water for the journey: we were all set to go.
Our attention was drawn to a mini bus on our right hand side. The so-called boot had been packed tightly with suitcases and backpacks of all sizes. The back door would no longer close, so all luggage was secured by some blue string which was being tugged to within an inch of snapping by the local driver. He smiled at the passengers (all Westerners), he was clearly proud of his accomplishment. They all climbed in ready to set off. A couple sitting over at the next table watched on too, and shared the joke quietly between them as Blair and I had been: Thank God that's not our luggage! The woman instantly stopped laughing and asked the organiser (around Khmer woman with good English but a serious face) where this particular bus was heading. I can't recall its destination, but seeing the couples reaction when they realised that they were meant to be on it and hadn't been informed was quite hilarious. I guess you could liken it to a fat spoilt kid being told he could no longer have his colossal sized chocolate cake. She had no time to be angry with the organiser. In one swift movement she angrily  stubbed out her cigarette, launched forward for her luggage and lunged for the mini bus driver to pack their cases also. Blair and I exchanged looks; there was no way their luggage was going to fit! The driver reluctantly untied his blue string, it took three men to lean against the luggage to keep it in place and they placed the luggage as strategically as they could. They re-tightened the string and tied it. By now the luggage was protruding so much, the back door was at a 45° angle. We now kept our eyes peeled for our own bus, we were not prepared to miss our ride.
When I bus arrived, it only had a few passengers, again all of whom were Westerners. Our backpacks were slid under the back seats and the back door completely closed. Phew, at least our luggage was safe. We climbed in an were in the row from the very back seats. Blair just about fit in, his knees pressed into the seat in front of him and he spilled over onto my seat; its about the only time he's glad that I'm small! All in all we were comfortable enough, although it was sweltering. We headed off to our next stop. We collected another three passengers who were squeezed into the back. The two men had their knees pressed inches from their chests and the lady was wedged in between various bags. We were now at full capacity. Everyone joked how this was going to be far from comfortable, and the air ventilation gave very little relief. 
The passengers weren't laughing for long though when they realised we had another stop and another two passengers to collect. The driver opened the sliding door, and we could see his eyes searching for a solution. A Frenchman sitting at the very front began accusing the driver of selling too many tickets and rallied all other passengers to protest. Blair sat oblivious to the whole thing, the only thing he cared about was keeping cool and hydrated, he still wasn't feeling great so there was no way I was going to ask him to move seats to make room. The driver had sorted a seat for one of the passengers. He now asked a few of the passengers to climb out of the bus and he desperately negotiated with the passengers. He suggested that a fourth passenger joined the three crammed people in the back row. Everyone he asked refused. He laughed at himself, I think it was an attempt to diffuse some of the tension, but there was no quietening the bus load. The Swiss lady at the back was now complaining how she was feeling claustrophobic, she was adamant no-one else was joining them. In all honesty I felt bad for the driver;  Yes he'd over sold two tickets, and yes it was a sixteen seater bus, but for people my size, not sixteen people any bigger than me and definitely not when you had men the size of Blair coming along for the journey. The driver turned to everyone and pleaded them to take the fourth seat, he was met with angry hostility. I sized up the back seat. I offered my seat to the claustrophobic Swiss lady, who was far taller than I was. This allowed the seatless American man the fourth spot on the back. The rest objected to this complete injustice. We had been told that four passengers were to disembark in Kampot, a twenty to thirty minute ride. I hadn't said anything until now, but I was annoyed at the squabbling and using me as some kind of martyr, I told them it was only a short drive and I'd be fine. I wanted to ask them what else did they expect? They were in a fairly rural part of Cambodia, one of the poorest countries in SE Asia. They weren't in Europe anymore.
The couple sitting in front of Blair were hilarious, a characature of middle class central Europeans. They were in their sixties; her dyed black hair revealed silver roots and had purple penciled eyebrows, her husband had eyebrow issues also, they were so bushy, they looked like he'd tonged them - they would have made great cigar holders!The wife started arguing with the Swiss lady sat beside Blair. The Swiss lady wanted the window open, and 'purple eyebrows' didn't, Blair had it open anyway and was relishing the breeze. The wife turned around sharply and barked at the Swiss lady what she must have thought was the killer blow of all comebacks: " You are not the boss!". Brilliant. I giggled to myself as I listened to my iPod and took in the Cambodian countryside in a bid to forget I was squeezed between two sweaty men.By this time it was almost 12:30 and we had only arrived in Kampot. I was relieved of my duty in the back seat and returned next to Blair.
The road conditions were far worse here. The roads had now changed to a deep terracotta colour dirt, we were surrounded by tall hills of jungle and whenever we drove through a village it would be a collection of corrugated iron stalls lining the dirt track roads.We stopped in one village, next to a small stall selling fresh fruit and drinks. The mini bus was immediately surrounded by fruit dollars, many of them children. Most of us shook our head and politely declined, apart from the 'eyebrow couple' sat in front of us. They ignored everyone, and if they did make eye contact they raised their heads so they were physically looking town their noses at them. A young girl came over to our side offering bags of mango. She held up the bags, smiled and greeted us with "hello, mango?". When she didn't get a reaction from the couple, she repeated. Still no reaction. Looking slightly confused she poked the man's arm; perhaps they were deaf? I could see the furry eyebrows raise even though I was sitting behind him. The young girl reacted to their ignorance as any other person would; I applauded her determination. She was rewarded with a sharp glance from the woman and a scowl for on the man. Unphased she stepped back from the bus with a proud look on her face; she had succeeded in offering everybody on the bus some mango, despite no sale.
We arrived in Sihanouk Ville an hour later. We drove passed the Angkor beer factory, the national beer bearing the national pride of Cambodia: the Angkor Wat Temples. We dipped down to a view of the sea and drove through the busy town. The mini bus pulled to the side of the road. Before we had even fully stopped the bus was enveloped by tuk tuk drivers. According to the Lonely Planet Sihanouk Ville was notorious for the drivers to shout you down as soon as you were spotted, and for overcharging. I managed to worm through all the haggling drivers and waited for Blair. We located our luggage and jumped into a tuk tuk and headed off to Otres Beach.The dirt roads were a stunning colour against the green fields.
After a fifteen minute ride we arrived at the beach. Both sides of the track were lined with guesthouses and bungalows.We pulled up to Mushroom Point. Walking towards us was a tall blonde man who shook his head before he spoke. He jumped into the tuk tuk with us and told us they had no room. My disappointment must have shown. He instructed the driver to continue down the road, he suggested their might be room at the other point. We jumped out on white sand and I looked up at the big mushroom shaped hut in front of us. We walked in to a reception desk to the right and a bar, and to the left was a raised level where three hammocks, games, books and a TV.  Behind were glass tables , chairs and the menu was colourfully chalked on a huge blackboard. They had one bed left in the dorm, no bungalows. They offered to show us the dorm before we decided. I had already made up my mind though. I really liked mushroom point. The dorm didn't disappoint either. We walked up to a space above the bar, reception and 'chill out' and 'feeding point'. There were seven round mattresses that circled the room. Mosquito nets hung above each one. We each had giant wicker baskets to hold our belongings, fans, plenty of electrical sockets and good WiFi. All for $10 a night. Sold!
We walked over to the beach. The sand squeaked under your feet and the water was beautiful, warm and shallow. We walked away from the bars and found a quiet patch of beach. We swam, spotted some fish and sat watching the sunset. We noticed that as soon as we were motionless the sand came alive. Tens of industrious little crabs cautiously continued digging their holes and scuttling to the sea. It was gorgeous here, the perfect beach spot!
Next morning we came downstairs for breakfast and were brought two glasses of juice and old fashioned champagne glasses filled with fresh fruit; mango, Papua, guava, banana, dragon fruit. My eyes almost popped out of my head when I saw that they offered muesli! They did the most stunning Vietnamese coffee.
 I made my way to the beach, while Blair stayed in the comfort of the dorms shade, there he contently set up camp in front of the fan with his kindle, tablet and phone to entertain him.
We lunched and dined at Mushroom Point, they had a great menu and their food was yummy. 
The following day we went to the beach together, and after no more than three hours I was bright pink. We made our way back for lunch and I didn't venture into the sun for another day and a half. I had forgotten how much closer again we were to the equator.
I had noticed that the Khmer people covered every part of their body they could, they even wore socks that accommodated the slit in the flip flop. The irony was that I had only wanted half a day in the sun so my skin could adjust to the strength! Sun-1 Cat - 0.
We extended our original  three nights in the mushroom point to six. We had decided to go to the Lonely Each resort on Koh Rong Samloem. Blair had noticed that a storm was due to hit Sihanouk Ville and so we didn't fancy a three hour boat crossing or even being on a deserted resort on an island while a thunder storm was passing. 
We spent that week relaxing on the beach, eating some great food and soaking up the sun and quietness of Otres beach.We were there long enough to spot some regulars on the beach. Otres beaches' own Tarzan deserves a mention. We spotted him on our third day. It was impossible to miss him really. He walked up and down the beach in the tiniest neon pink g-string. He was a deep mahogany, had long scraggly silver hair and painfully thin. He would pass us silently on his walks, and as soon as his back was to us Blair pulled out the camera and snapped some sneaky shots. 
It got dark suprisingly early, around 19:00.
Our last night and Blair was upstairs in the dorm, I decided to head downstairs, ordered a drink and began talking to the people who worked at Mushroom Point. It was run by Slovenians and a few of their workers were Slovenians also, apart from the kitchen and bar staff who were Khmer, and Emily, an English girl who had been travelling for the past two years and had begged for a job there after falling in love with the area. They were all heading to a full moon party on the beach - I had seen posters on the beach but thought nothing of it. So I went along with them (Blair was tired and stayed in the dorm). We stopped by the bar at Mushroom Point Beach and then on to Richie's (a Scottish run bar). There was live music, an English woman with a great voice sang acoustic covers, ranging from Old Blues to current British tunes. The atmosphere was great. We danced on the sand, tables were set up all along beach and we talked as if we'd known each other for years. Although the intense heat of the day had set, it was still a really warm night. There were clear skies and the full moon was beaming down. We went swimming in the sea to cool down. It really was the perfect night to end a beautiful week at Otres Beach and a night I will remember.