Truly deserted

My start in Cambodia had been wonderful yet brutal – relentless.
I didn't stop, from the moment I set foot off the plane after travelling for 20 hours.

I covered Angkor Wat in this post.
And I'll cover S21 prison and Killing Fields in separate posts.

But this post will be about the true paradise I discovered, that slowed things right down and gave me time to actually breathe out for a bit and take in what I'd seen.

When I'd looked in Lonely Planet guides, Koh Rong was a beautiful yet busy island off the coast of Cambodia.
Koh Rong Sanloem was less well known and the quieter of the two islands.

Quiet is what I wanted.

Getting there involved a 3-hour drive to a bit of a nothing area called Sihanoukville - pretty much just a port for boats ferrying people to and from Cambodia's islands.

I'd bought my ferry tickets in advance, so that was all sorted, and I was wafted towards my boat by the sassiest 8 year old (maybe 10, at a push) I've ever encountered: furry bucket hat, colourful t-shirt, stylish waist coat, and absolutely no time for my nonsense.
She'll go far in life.

When you're abroad and no one waiting with you speaks English (and you don't know the local language), you're never quite sure if you're boarding the right boat/bus/train.
So I got on the ferry and just hoped for the best.

At the other end, we approached a long jetty and I hoped and prayed I was in the right place, as it was beautiful...and empty.
Calm clear water, palm trees, sweeping sand, little beach bungalows.

I hopped off the boat and dragged my case down the wooden part of the jetty, onto the concrete part, patting some friendly, inquisitive dogs on my way.

I dragged my case further, along the beach (one of the wheels was f*cked and sand is not good for pulling cases through) and found Paradise Bungalows - my home for three days - among some trees.

I had the start of a cold, but I didn't care - this was perfect.

The reception/eating area was a big wooden consruction - almost like a giant treehouse.
It was also the only place where wifi was available.

I was given a key and headed down a narrow concrete path, behind trees and among long grass and yellow flowers bursting out from the bungalows themselves.

My bungalow was simple (all of them were) - a wooden shack with a corrugated metal roof, painted red.
Fine for my needs...although I wouldn't like to see how it fared in a hurricane.

My days on Koh Rong Sanloem were simple.

I spent lots of time on the beach, on flat, white sand...or I got into the swing seat hanging from a tree branch and looked up at the sky...or I floated out into the bath-temperature, crystal-clear, entirely calm (not so much as a wave) sea.

I watched fish swim between my legs and hermit crabs amble along.

I held the calm of the sea, and the warmth, in my head...these moments are useful to recall in stressful times - they're good for squashing anxiety.

There wasn't a soul on my part of the beach.
I didn't see another sunbather in three days.
I've no idea how this was the case.

I did venture further down the beach, but there was nothing interesting, so I stuck to 'my bit'.

I ate coconut milk curries out of old coconut shells, in the big treehouse reception.

There was one downpour, and it felt as if the rain was trying to actually smash through the roof, it came down that hard.
It cleared within 20 minutes though, and it was like it had never been.

At night - among the long grass and pools of water outside each bungalow - insects buzzed and frogs called to one another...although I never managed to actually see one.

I did try to walk further down the beach at night, but there was very little light (natural or otherwise), I stupidly went in my trainers, and there were lots of quite deep inlets to navigate.
In fact, I fell into one (it was deeper than I'd anticipated) and my shoes got soaked.
So I gave up and went back to my place.

I left my shoes outside my bungalow, but they didn't dry. It was too humid. They just ended up smelling, so I left them there.

And when I wasn't sunbathing or chilling in my bungalow, I read.

I read and read and read - page after page - in the calm treehouse reception area, propped up on cushions, with a papaya or watermelon smoothie.

It was pure bliss.

My little island, all to myself.