'Sinville' city.

Not sure whether the pier was holding up the boat, or vice versa...

Sihanoukville - 'Sin City'is a lively place, buzzing with action. It has beautiful beaches, lovely remote islands, crystal-clear waters and coral reefs. And a big crime scene. I was warned by several people - don't walk along this part of the beach at night - don't walk along that part of the beach at all on your own; don't carry valuables; stay in; lock your windows; swallow your credit-card... you get the picture.

In reponse to that, I had booked in to a lovely hotel with a swimming pool. I could isolate myself from 'Sin City', live by the pool, rest and get a tan. And how blissful this was - for a day. By the end of the time I was fed up with watching paunchy old men with young, beautiful Cambodian girlfriends who laughed obediently and followed every move of their man with large, adoring eyes. I knew of 'cheque-book journalism'; this was clearly 'credit-card sex'.so I booked an 'overnighter' at a nearby island, planning to snorkel.

How lovely is paradise? The island was truly beautiful, with a small fishing village and very little else. Our small huts looked onto rocks, but were tree-shaded in the heat.

Snorkelling was delightful; although you can't go so deep as with scuba, it has a sweet simplicity, which involves nothing more than donning swimsuit, pulling on mask and getting into the water. And when the water is warm and clear, little effort is involved. I fed multi-coloured fish with bits of bread and swam deep into the coral, seeing baby barracuda in huge shoals, big and little fish, even two tiny bright turquoise delights. Sea urchins (not the two-legged sort) were everywhere, their black spines waving in the gentle current. I saw some giant sponges, alongside harder orange-red coral growths. As you realise, I am an expert on these things.

I spent hours in the water until my skin was wrinkled almost past redemption and my toes cramped up with the effort.

And when I returned, I changed hotels and went to 'Tranquility', on Serendipity Beach. I had wanted a hotel as near to the beach as possible, with secure, clean rooms. And that is what I got. I'd leave my room, walk about 20m to the restaurant, take 2 steps onto the beach and sink into a deep basketweave chair with soft, comfy cushions. A banana milk-shake was only a wave away (my wave, not the sea's...) and I sat, watching beach-life and reading' or just listened to the swish of waves against the nearby rocks.

Beach life was fascinating. I saw:

a) tourists of all ages and nationalities. I watched pale-skinned sparrow-chested young men walk anxiously along, looking around at other people and not saying too much. They looked as if they'd never been away from home before. Then there were the tanned, confident ones, with dreadlocks, tattooes and the type of confidence that comes from months of travel. Older people were normally couples, either walking close together and holding hands (2nd honeymooners?), or fairly remote from each other and obviously far too used to each other's company.

b) beggars: men with mutilated or missing limbs would drag themselves along the sand. leaving deep marks. A friend I'd made, who lives in Cambodia, told me that most of these men are shams. "For a start, they might have lost their limb through snakebite and dodgy cures which led to amputation. And, OK, they don't have all their arms or legs. But every single one of them will have a wheelchair and be supported by some sort of NGO. so they don't actually need the dollars - they're supplementing their income." But I felt truly sorry for the blind man, led by a 6-year-old carrying a stick, who walked the beaches constantly singing, "Anything I do, I do it for you" offkey and with a strong Cambodian accent.

There is a strong movement against children begging in Cambodia. In Sihanouhkville at any rate, every primary-age child has free education, so they should be in school, not on thebeaches. As a result, I saw few child beggars But there were lots of:c) children selling stuff. From fruit to cold drinks to little woven things - they were eeverywhere, with appealing smiles and even more appealing half-English. I paid one young girl $3 for a handwoven bookmark. She told me that she uses the money to pay for herself and her younger sister to go to school. Although it's free for young sister, they still have to provide pens, books and suitable clothes.

d) women selling manicures, pedicures, henna tattoos, face, neck, back and foot massages. What bliss! They are very persuasive. "Imagine the following pronounced with almost no consonants, so that every word flows into the next - and very fast.

"Hello, maram, you wan manicuu?"

"No thank you. My hands are fine."

Your hand will then be picked up and looked at. Head shake, sad expression."Oh, no, maram, you han is no goo, You nee manucuu for goo nail. I very goo. Look, My nail."

And she waves a set of beautful nails at you, complete with painted flowers."An for you - very goo pri. You are my fren..."

I sigh. I am defeated. "OK. What price?"

"For yoo - spesha pri. Fi dollar."

"Five dollars?" I play the game. We both know exactly what it will cost me.

"OK, $4.50."

"Make it $4. For hands AND feet."

"OK, very goo. I give you specia manicuu. Hand and foot, If you wan flowa, you tell me but more dollar. OK?"

And we both know that by the end of it I will have twenty beautifully painted, floral nails, along with massaged legs and neck.
And once I'm 'sorted', I leave my special chair and walk slowly along the beach. The sun is getting low, the sea is retreating and bar-people are moving their own comfy chairs further out, along with the 'Happy Hour Cocktail' signs. 'Hour' is a moveable feast and clearly stated on the boards. "4pm - 6", "5-8", "7-12" or even, generously, "Anytime, everytime Happy Hour".

It's Saturday and, further along the beach, loads of Cambodians have gathered. Two large pyramid-using convenient holds, then sliding into the water. What fun! Others were busy burying parents in the sand, building sandcastles or just simply jumping into the waves. Young men with muscles and cool sunglasses were making an expensive row, driving jet-skis far too fast in the bay, then slicing through the water (hopefully not people) to make a grand entrance onto the beach. Others played shuttleball, which involves keeping a giant shuttlecock in the air using only feet, or splashed each other, or just sat relaxing. What a great scene, like people on the beach absolutely everywhere. But I didn't see any Cambodian woman in a bikini, or even a swimsuit; they wore modest shorts and tops, even when in the water. Such a difference to the skimpily-clad Westerners, who all-too-often were bulging out of revealing swimwear without a thought of covering up (or even buying a larger size...!)
The beach is great. Later on, I walk again. It's dark by now and the moon is full, great excuse for an all-night 'Full Moon Party'. The moon hangs like a suspended party-light; people buy fireworks and the multi-colours cascade upwards then into the water. Other lights flicker, the music is loud and party-time is all around. It's warm, the drink is cheap and the waves are near. Who needs more???