Back in Bangkok and the curfew has been extended to 11 or 12pm or something by now. I take 2 of my friends and and go to Nana early. I go to Angel Witch again. Get pretty fucked up as usual. I have a chat with the Manager. After, I ask mamasan for two bi-girls down for a threesome. She points them over. I know one already as Pim from a previous encounter. I take two girls, Dun and Pim? Cant remember if Pim is the right name still. Dun is small with light hair and has a snaggle tooth. Pim, has blondish hair with braces, and fake titties. My boys grab girls too. I’m getting a bit jealous cause one of my boys gets a new hot young girl that I think has outdone my 2, but whatever.

We get supplies and everyone goes to my room. Dun wants to take me in the bathroom and fuck right now cause she wants to get home before the curfew. Lame, that wasn’t part of the deal when we left the gogo. But I take her in the bathroom, get blown and doggy her in the mirror. She puts on a pretty vocal show for everyone else in the room. We finish and I give her 1000 and she leaves. By now the other girls are down to their panties and dancing on the bed and we all party till everyone goes to there separate rooms. Making the best of the curfew..

Next night the Irishman and Croat we left in Pattaya are back in BKK. Go back to Nana pretty early. Check out rainbow 4 and again end up at Angel Witch. Dun is on my lap and I tell her I want her friend and point a new one out across the bar. Her Friend comes over, Her name is Look Nam, (baby mosquito). She’s bubbly and a little feisty and very cute. I bar fine her. Then another girl I’ve know for years, a Cambodian chic named Jane comes over, she wants to party, asks me to pay her and Dun’s bar fine and we can all go drink. I was already planning on stopping by the radio station/studio to see my Thai Friends who are doing a live show 1 night a week. I call them and say hey is it cool If I bring 7 gogo chicks with us? They say yeah no problem. Knowing that people who know my wife will be there I do it anyway. (mistake #1, not respecting the boundaries) We take them (5 from angel, 2 from Spankys) on the BTS. Since it wasn’t late yet, it was crowded and everyone is looking at us.

We get to the studio on Thong lo and when the girls see who I came to meet they freak out. Famous Thai hip-hop guys…The girls recognized there place in the Thai totem pole and all stayed out on the rear balcony. Look Nam is pounding beers like a grown man, 3 times she grabs my qrt. (we callem 22′s in the US) and says “watch I finish this” Hey give me that back!!! Then, Look Nam says to me I want you alone tonight, please don’t bring the other 2 girls back to the room with us. The girls hear this and get pissed. Dun says she was my friend but “now I want to boxing her”. Then Dun and Jane say OK, you go with her. Tomorrow we both come meet you and you don’t pay. OK, word! Everyone jumps in taxi’s to get back down to lower suk in time to get drinks from 7-11. Back to the hotel.

Everyone goes in my friends room tonight. In the room 5 dudes, five girls. Girls in there panties dancing. Look Nam spills a raspberry breezer on my boys bed. Oops sorry dude. I tell my boys I can smell her pussy from here while she is dancing on the bed. Im actually looking forward to putting my face in it, since in my experience thai girls (whores included) are pretty clean down stairs, you dont come across stinky ones too often. I think this is refreshing actually. At one point the Croat tells his girl from Spankys he changed his mind and she should go. She cries, but he smooths it out and she ends up staying and still fucking him. Get back to my room and Look Nam didn’t stop gogo dancing in the mirror for about 2 hours. I’m digging it. No shower, no condom we take care of business.

Next day, woke up and screwed look Nam again. Sent her on her way. I hung out hungover for awhile. Went to mbk food court to eat then returned to soi 11 and drank beer in the room. Dun and Jane call and say there coming over. We hang out and go meet my Japanese friend on the corner. We run into tech12 who’s going to meet a man about a dog. We sit on motor cycle taxis little street stools and drink qrts from 7 and wait for 1 connect to come through and my boys girlfriend. At one point Jane says, “your friend, your friend” I look at my Japanese American buddy and he’s got a two inch long brown soi Africa snot hanging out of his nose. I think he was feeling too good to care! But then again thai girlfriend is coming so he better sharpen up. I ask him is your girl gonna be cool i have these gogo bitches with me? Another possible connect to wifey I’m ignoring (ignoring the boundaries rule again). He says don’t worry.

So, the crew splits up, half to Soi Cowboy, the other half going into Bed Club. Then meet back up to party before curfew. Fuck (doesn’t that sound like a college dorm or some bullshit) What should I do? Cowboy or bed club, Fuck it, I take Dun and Jane back into the hotel and tell my people I will meet them later. Jane is acting shy although I’ve never hit it she’s been in the room a few times while I mashed one of her friends up. She says were just friends, “u don’t need to boom boom every lady.” I think this a bit funny, so I say its cool your about to watch again…She stood looking out the window but turns around to check out the finale. We all drink a beer and I send them on their way, I go to a friends house. Over do it a bit on enhancements, felt like i was gonna have a heart attack in the morning. Slept for 4 hours, stumbled outside hating myself and got a taxi back to soi 11.

If my memory is correct today is a Buddha holiday, no alcohol sold. I sleep till about 7pm. My friends and the girls are going to find a street bar and drink. The Croat has been holed up in his room with Soi Africa for 24 hours, I knock on the door to make sure he’s still alive. When he opens it I think I see a hoola hoop on the floor behind him! So naturally I’m curious about whats going on in here and I ask him. He says “Oh no man, that’s a toy train set from MBK”. Oh OK, that explains it.??? He looks fine, I go back to my room and I call Look Nam, she says I’ll be right there. 30 minutes later she shows up in flip flops and short shorts and pig tails looking pretty young and cute. On our way out, the security guard says she looks like she is 15 while he hands her id card back. Me and the security guard give each other a devilish smile. We go to meet my friends at Hilary bar. Play some pool, get drunk. No dance party on the bed tonight, everyone splits
up to their own rooms for some play and some decent sleep.

In the Morning, Tech calls me and asks if I wanna go to Phnom Penh for the night. I know I’m going but I decide I better check in with Wifey. It would be nice to hit Martini’s (still there?) but I decide I need to spend more time with wifey so I can get back to being a bastard in Thailand. I call her and ask if she wants to go to Cambo with us. She does, and I tell her to meet us at Suvarnabumi at 2pm. I fuck Look Nam again and tell her she has to go. I grab the Irishman and offer him a free ticket. Me, him and tech go to the airport and meet up with Techs friends, another American and an Aussie. At 2pm I call wifey and she hasn’t left Chon Buri yet. I’m pissed off, “Get here now! I cant buy your ticket without your passport.” We wait for about 1 hour, My friend is looking at me like hey if you cant go, are you still gonna buy me that ticket?? She shows up with only 5 minutes to spare. Of course the price has gone up an additional 1000 baht per ticket. Thanks for the Thai time baby…. Although I’m annoyed at her, when I see her I’m a bit stunned. She is looking hot today! I have to stop and think to myself, what the fuck am I doing with all these gogo bimbo’s, my wife is way hotter than every one of them, for real. But you know, a man wants what ever a man doesn’t have, its that simple. So I try not to think about it too much and we all get on the plane.

We arrive in Cambo. Every single Khmer dude is looking at my wife like he’s having an abduction fantasy, its a bit un-nerving. This is gonna be interesting. Me and my girl, and my friend and Techs Aussie friend get rooms by River House. Tech and his boy get rooms a block down. It’s fucking Hot, much hotter than Thailand. The Aussie makes a call for enhancements and we get beers, red bull, rolling papers and make a pharmacy run for landing gear. The party starts on my balcony and everyone is sweating like pigs. Tech and his boy go to river house to DJ. A little later we arrive at River House, We get a bottle of Vodka and finish it, get another bottle and finish that too, making quick runs back to the hotel room during the night for nose powdering. Tech gets pretty smashed and takes off his clothes in the DJ booth, then starts asking over the Mic if there are any Nigerians around, cause they need to talk. Oh boy, we should get out of here… Go back to the room again. Party for a bit then just before sunrise decide to go to Pontoon, (a disco at the river on a barge). Tech is even more wasted and he takes the small toilet trash can with him as a prop or his date I’m not sure which. You had to be there, it was pretty fucking funny. We Leave Pontoon, not sure what time it is in the morning, go to someones place and do the Happy/rave enhancements. My girl wants to go home. Back to the hotel, My room has no windows, a crappy AC and the TV only has blue screen on every channel. Wifey is asleep in seconds, I’m tripping out to blue screen and a whiney air con for hours, the whole time I can hear my rookie friend banging some Khmer chick all the way on the other side of the hotel.

I finally sleep for about 2-3 hours. I emerge for check out at 2pm. I knock on my boys door. It swings open quick, and he’s drinking a beer and is pretty drunk still/already? There’s a Khmer girl sitting on the edge of the bed naked and doesn’t bother to cover herself. Its check out time dude, lets go. I need water so I go to the 7. On the way I run into Tech and the Aussie out in the street. There really flying, taking photos, messing with street people. They kept the party going and are really on one now. We go back to Techs room and its trashed, we meet an Englishman about a dog. Plenty more to say here! but we all get to the airport finally. Get on the plane. I remember the Aussie standing up in the second row turning around and telling the whole plane that “When we crash,,”I” will die before “YOU”, yeah!!” repeat about 3 times in joyful Aussie accent… Audible gasps from everyone on the plane. Then someone wanted the whole plane to sing happy birthday to his girlfriend. oh man, get me the fuck out of here…. Arrive back in BKK less than 24hrs in cambo. Go to 711 in the airport get red bulls, call a man about a dog to meet the guys in 30 minutes. Everyone says we will meet back up in 2 hours, and keep the party going. I never make it… Get in my room and I’m out cold with wifey till the next afternoon.

After this trip for about a week each night is blurred together with alot of the same stuff. Wifey sticks around Bangkok for about a week or so. My friends leave to go back to the US. I’ve been waiting for everyone to leave so I can get really evil in my vices. I know wifey will want to go back to her mom’s house any day. I decide to go to Pattaya the following day with Tech12. When wifey gets wind of this she wants to go too. Can I handle Pattaya with the wife with me?? Looks like I’m gonna find out. I actually consider hiring security to follow me around, just in case i run into a previous encounter. Someone to keep them away from wifey, so ridiculous, who do I think I am? I gotta handle this on my own. Basically I just put trouble out of my mind. I’m up until sunrise, and then miss my ride to Pattaya, I take a taxi at 10pm. Get to P-town, shower and go to Insomnia about 1am? Get a bottle of vodka, tramadols and scorched nostrils. Wifey crashed at sun up and me and tech went to JP bar. Bit of a blur here, drank tequila, had some bar girl sticking her tongue down my throat and quoting sale prices. We left and I dropped a qrt of beer in the middle of the street, I’m smashed again.

Woke up at 7pm next day. Wifey is out with friends shopping. says she is gonna eat on walking st, and to come meet her. I drink 3 qrts and take 4 tramadols to try and bash my way through the evening hangover and leave around 9pm. I’m chain smoking and feeling pretty crazy. I decide to hit a short time on the way to meet wifey. I cut down the alley, and pass Whats UP gogo. Its too bright in there for my mood. I wanna go to Bacarra but I’m solo and they will sit me at the stage, I’m not feeling like being on display, I need a dark corner even if its only for minutes. I go into Angel Witch again. I know most of you by now are saying for gods sake man try a different spot… So, I’m in there about 2 minutes, Nooky comes up to me looking doe eyed. “Why you no meet me, first time I no work”. I lie and say “Uh Sorry but my wife showed up in Pattaya!” She understands, I get 2 shots and beers and take 4 more tramadols and say Lets go for short time. She smiles and we are off.

Across the Soi, we get a st room, boom boom boom no condom. Just after we finish, too many tramadols and alcohol hit me all at once like a truck, and i get dope sick. I cant get up or leave the room. Long story short I meet my wife about 4 hours late at Marine. She is furious and lets me have it in front of a gang of people. I’m coming up with bullshit on the spot. Her friends are looking at me Low.. I feel bad that wifey is embarrassed in front of her friends. We go back to the hotel unhappy and go to sleep.

Wake up and call wife’s lil bro to come fetch us in the car and go to Chon Buri. Stay for 4 uneventful days. Mom can tell I’m in the dog house from my wife. I don’t do such a good job of looking like I care. Last night I get drunk with lil brother, he tells me about being a sniper in the Army, and shooting from a Chinook helicopter. He then comes out with a rifle and puts it in my lap. He says its cool, pull the trigger, I say no and he insists its all good. Like a moron, I don’t pick it up or check to see if its loaded. After all there are children in the room he wouldn’t possibly hand me a loaded weapon. I pull the trigger,,,, Yep, it was loaded, BOOM!!! The gun is sitting across my lap and is facing directly out the open patio door. Lil brother starts laughing. I don’t think its very funny. Mom comes in to yell at us. Neighbor comes to yell at us. In the morning I get little bro to drop me off at suvarnabumi again. I’m off to Bangkok and get a room at Nasa Vegas. To be continued…

[Editor's Note: Name of places and people may have been changed to protect their identities, and it would be purely coincidental if a person with the same name was employed by a place mentioned. Now carry on.]

Cambodia does offer a certain freshness in the service. The service people smile, the girls are happy to see you and the food is good value. I wanted to punch most of the motosai guys in the face and I was tiring of being asked if I needed a tour guide but apart from that the place actually irritated me a little less than previous trips. Could I live there? No way.

Some of the lowlife guys hanging there are worse than the pattaya scum, the traffic is getting appallingly bad (no transit options either), and absolutely no one knows where they are going. I don’t know how many times the motosai guy would stop and ask me if I have seen where I was going yet? I guess the assumption was if he drove around long enough I would see my destination and tell him to stop. I fixed this by keeping the hotel driver who seemed to know his way around. Nothing like pulling up to the bars/restaurants in a car.

A couple of things I noticed about PP. There are some seriously good looking white skinned girls. Not Chinese white but cambo looking with white skin. I went to get my hair cut at some joint and had one on my feet and one on my hands – working my nails. Gorgeous and chatty but my Khmer is non existent and their English was marginal. My driver says these girls, some in Uni, hang at places like the Rock and the Rose. Upper scale Cambodian discos.  I did not get a chance to check it out but maybe the next trip.

You also see the prototype dark skin, Isaan looking, Cambo girls but the look that killed me was what I call the temple dancer style girls. Very Cambodian looking faces without the flat nose, dark or light skin but with very curvy bodies. Plump ass, a little bit of a belly and big boobs. I was in love more than a few times. This look I am after now and you just don’t see it in Thailand or Vietnam but I have before in Indonesia as well as Cambodia. Wow.

One night I am walking home and run into a freelancer and she fit this look perfectly. Mocha colored, huge tits and a visible pert ass. I was not in the pulling mode cause I had to be up early but I made a date to meet her the next night at the HOD. By the way the Heart was kicking every night with a mix of locals, FGs, p4p and non p4p. Goes late, music was kicking and ordering a bottle makes for an affordable night out. HOD – the place to be at night for pulling.

Another notable mention for the Pontoon. Same type of thing as HOD but on a big boat type of thing tethered to land. I think the HOD is better but Pontoon not bad.

Funny thing about being with a bunch of business people at a conference is during dinner watching people sort out who around the table wants to party. Party I mean going out and pulling – p4p or not. The hunt, the prowl – looking for puss. It is a delicate dance sorting out who among your colleagues or newly met industry friends are into going out or not. You start by asking guys around you and find a small group and then make an exit. Turns out  a few of the guys I was mostly hanging with were on the same page.

One of them happened to mention he was looking to find this hottie he had met some months back. I mentioned I was looking for someone as well and we decided to head out. So there we were sitting on a few bar stools when I saw the girl I was looking for and she saw – my friend. The guy she was with a few months back. You should have seen the look on her face – was too funny. She was feeling pretty awkward about it all. Small world indeed – so there went my hookup for the night. A few guys mentioned to me that the p4p scene for FLs is small and this happens a bunch. Not my thing so I think I need to sort out how to find the normal girls looking for the great white hope.

We checked out some places one night:

Martinis sucked ass. It was dead as a doornail. For me that place is depressing and feels like a monger only pit stop.

Sharky’s was busy but did not see anything worth approaching.

Heart of Darkness was kicking – with decent music and a great mix. We got a bottle of Vodka and some cranberry juice. Awesome.

I don’t remember all the names or the streets but mostly 104,110 and 136 for hostess bars. IMO I did not notice a difference. Seemed to be plenty of girls and lots of places open. For me I just pop in and look to see if there are any hotties or a good vibe. On each street I found 2-3 fun places. Candy was probably my fav for the vibe and the playfulness of the girls.

I mostly enjoyed places like the HOD except for one issue. As everyone knows PP is plagued with NGOs – just too many of them in town pushing up the prices of apartments, clogging the streets with big gas guzzling cars and filling the bars with overweight white women looking for action. I  was amazed how many times I was approached in HOD and was thinking about taking a fly swatter with me to fend them off.

Cambodia is fun though. The decent places offer great service without that edge that Thailand has given it is overrun with tourists. I love hanging at places like the FCC enjoying the views, the food and the awesome service. This became HQ for hosting business lunches.

Being a Metrosexual I also found the spas quite nice. Good value and also rammed with gorgeous Cambo girls who spoke awesome English. No extras on offer but still a fun place – maybe a spot to try and pick up for an evening date?

Just need to find out if any of these girls are on tagged so I can pre-arrange some hookups with the non p4p girls…

Nice Riverside Cafe, Phnom Penh
Day Three, 12:00

‒Would you like your eggs scrambled or fried?”

‒Scrambled, please.”

Yum yum.

‒Have you seen The Athlete yet today?”, I asked The Heckler.

‒No. Let’s check his hotel after breakfast.”

“How was the Heart of Darkness?”

“Fucking awful.”

The Quay Hotel, Phnom Penh
Day Three, 13:30

“Hello cute receptionist, is Mr Athlete in his room?”

“No, sorry sir, he went to, er…”

“The bar?”

“No, the er…”

“The pub?”

“No, the er…”

“The olympic stadium?”

“No, the hospital.”

“Crap.”

Mr Thai’s Tuk Tuk, Phnom Penh
Day Three, 14:00

“So you’re half Thai?”

“Yes, my mother was Thai, from Bangkok. My father Cambodian, from Phnom Penh.”

Mr Thai’s tuk-tuk was wallpapered with photographs of Mr Thai posing variously with his passengers from over the years, in bars, on beaches, grinning like a loon. A mentalist, but nice enough with it.

He said he’d wait outside the hospital for us, despite our protestations that we had no idea how long we’d be.

International SOS Medical Clinic, Phnom Penh
Day Three, 14:30

From behind a dully-patterned curtain, The Athlete was reclining on a hospital bed, talking to a doctor. He’d taken his shoes off, but was still wearing the sunglasses.

“Yeah doc, no, just the kidney pain really. Otherwise, I’m in pretty good shape. I’m an athlete.”

“I see. Have you had anything to drink today?”

“Only breakfast. Bloody Mary. And a beer. But I couldn’t finish it, so that doesn’t count.”

“I see.”

The doctor took The Athlete away for some blood/urine tests. The Heckler and I waited in the room with the male nurse, who was keen to practise his English.

“Sorry, my English isn’t that good. I grew up under the Khmer Rouge, you know? School was not allowed, so we had to learn by ourselves, in secret.”

“Does that include the medical schools?”, I thought better of asking him.

His English was actually fine, and it was pretty humbling to hear him describe the conditions, the forced labour, the nightmarish details that must have seemed like a lifetime away now, in this relatively Westernised hospital ward, but are still living memories for so many Cambodians. Further analysis is not for the likes of this purveyor of chortle-writing, but it was a sobering conversation.

“You need to drink less”, the doctor was telling The Athlete as they returned. No shit. “No more alcohol today or tonight, okay?”

“You got it, doc. Can I have a beer tomorrow?”

“I suppose so.”

“Cool. Let’s go.”

The Quay Hotel, Phnom Penh
Day Three, 16:00

After a bumpy ride back in Mr Thai’s tuktuk (thanks, Mr Thai), we hung out in The Athlete’s suite for a while, watching Misery on TV, which lightened the mood no end. The deaf-mute hooker turned up again, so the Heckler and I decided to leave them alone for an evening of sobriety and deep, meaningful conversation…

Nice Riverside Cafe, Phnom Penh
Day Three, 19:00

Exempt from the alcohol ban, we indulged in a couple of Beer Laos and discussed our plans for the evening. The Heckler wanted to hit a high-end club. I didn’t think there was one, and said I’d prefer to check out a few more venues featuring young ladies of negotiable virtue, particularly since I’d got chatting to a very cute waitress and planned a daytime date for Day Four – he could always hit a club with The Athlete the night after. But tonight could be my last chance to get laid this trip. Well, last chance to pay to get laid…

Given that I could name half a dozen of my choice of venues, and their full postal addresses, whilst Heckles could only say that he wanted to go to “a club”, I won the toss. First up to Sharky’s, with the intention of getting some food…

Sharky’s Bar, Street 130, Phnom Penh
Day Three, 20:00

After a few more beers, we kind of forgot about the food. Whoops. Heckles was chatting to an ageing but pleasant enough girl at the bar, as I cast a forlorn eye around the other slim pickings. I was ready to leave after the first beer, but The Heckler seemed surprisingly intend on his MILF-esque moll, and we ended up staying for a few.

As it turned out, she’d be leaving with us. At least she had her own motorcycle:

“Cashback!”, I murmered to myself as the three of us pootled off down Street 130 on two very tired tyres…

Shanghai Bar, Street 51, Phnom Penh
Day Three, 22:00

This place had been recommended by the Pattaya Ghost, I think. Another hostess bar, but on a rather grander scale. To be fair, there were some very attractive hostesses in here, but they were unfortunately already taken by (predominantly) Asian customers.

The Heckler was taking great joy in introducing the unoccupied (and un-attractive, but what can you do?) hostesses to “Mom”, as he’d decided to call his Sharky’s “pull”. She took it in pretty good humour, to be fair. What she lacked in youth, she made up for in good spirits. Speaking of which, another round of B-52s landed on the table…

But after another couple of beers, I still had the urge to check out fresh pastures, and fresher girls. gavinmac had told me that his favourite bar in Phnom Penh was close to Shanghai bar. It was called Howie’s. I couldn’t remember any other details, but it seemed as good a place as any to check out.

Howie’s Bar, Street 51, Phnom Penh
Day Three, 23:00

Howie’s had eight or nine bartenders, and one (male) customer as we walked in. My initial reaction was to turn back around and walk out again. The Heckler and The Heckler’s Mom outvoted me. When my request for a Heineken was met with a can, rather than a bottle, of said beverage, I knew I’d been right. Cans are gay.

None of the bartenders were available for take-out, which was just as well since none of them were attractive either. Things briefly began to look up when a lone female entered, and sat alone opposite us. She was slim, sexy, dolled up very nicely, and made the universal throat-slitting gesture with her finger as soon as I made eye contact. Nice.

I went back to reading the list of ingredients on my Heineken can instead. There wasn’t anything else to do.

Pontoon Bar, On A Boat In The River, Phnom Penh
Day Three, 00:00

This was really, really gay. As we walked up the gangplank, I could hear a cringingly over-keen plummy-voiced English DJ introducing a record by saying something along the lines of “And now, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, one of my favourites”… Presumably he’d moved to Cambodia because nobody in England would let him DJ at weddings any more.

This time, I put my foot down. This was beyond crap, and I wasn’t even going to have a drink. The other riverside bars seemed to close around midnight, so I cut my losses and went to bed. After all, I had a date in the morning…

Nice Riverside Cafe, Phnom Penh
Day Four, 11:30

‒Would you like your eggs scrambled or fried?”

‒Scrambled, please.”

Good Cambodian Girl was late, so I’d ordered breakfast while I was waiting.

She turned up soon enough, looking almost as tasty as my bacon and eggs, and ordered Cambodian food after casting a horrified glance at the Western menu. Her English was good enough that I wasn’t forced to resort to attempting to speak Khmer. Given that I could still only reliably remember how to say “massive wang”, this was most fortunate.

“So, what do you want to do today?”, I asked.

“I don’t know, up to you”, she replied.

I hate Asian girls sometimes.

It was a ridiculously hot day, and seemed even hotter than the Bangkok that I’d left. We were still sat outside though, because I was on holiday, damn it.

“Where can we go that has air conditioning?”

“Inside the cafe?”

“I’d like to see a little bit more of the city than that.”

We discussed our options – refrigerator showrooms, ice cream shops, or hey – how about the cinema? Classic date strategy – take her into a dark room where she can’t see you and isn’t allowed to talk to you. Awesome.

Sorya Shopping Centre, Phnom Penh
Day Four, 13:00

The movie wasn’t showing until 2pm, so we had an hour to kill. It’s a pretty cool shopping centre though, with a roller blading rink on the cinema floor. Had lots of fun watching the Cambodian youngsters repeatedly falling over and injuring themselves. What?

Anyway, so what do you do with a bored Asian girl in a shopping mall? Take her to Swensen’s, duh. Yes, Phnom Penh has Swensen’s. Cue one happy GCG.

Eventually, it was movie time. We were ushered into rows, filling up from the back, in what I understand is “American style” seating – we were not allowed to pick a nice quiet part of the theatre in which to sit. Every other customer was a Cambodian teenager with a mobile phone. And every single one of them made or received at least five calls during the movie.

Oh, and the thing about cinemas being nice and cool and air-conditioned? Seems that’s just a Thailand thing. This one was boiling hot – I was mopping sweat from my brow every five minutes or so for the duration of the movie, which was about twice as long as it needed to be.

I don’t remember the name of the movie, because the posters were all printed in Khmer script. The soundtrack was, of course, also Khmer-only. There were subtitles in parts, but these too were in Khmer script. I think it was a ghost movie, but I’m still not entirely sure.

Jean-Paul Sartre famously wrote in No Exit that “Hell is other people”. I would humbly like to refine that to “Hell is Cambodian people, armed with cellphones on which the volume is set to 11, in a boiling hot cinema”.

The FCC, Phnom Penh
Day Four, 17:00

We sat up on the roof and ate some terrific pizza, watching the boats go by on the river. Sounds kind of gay, now that I write it down, doesn’t it? She was cool, we just clicked and had an awesome time. I’m just an old romantic, really. You know when a girl’s so cool that you find yourself starting to imagine what your kids would look like before you’ve even finished dinner? No? Just me? Oh.

Anyway, we followed dinner with a wander around the classier bars, one of which was host to the following exchange…

Some Riverside Bar, Phnom Penh
Day Four, 22:00

“It’s so nice here, I’m so happy I met you”, she said. “Just me and you.”

Just then, there was something of a commotion, as two visibly drunk men struggled with the door. And joined us at our table.

“Hello!”, said The Heckler.

“Hulu!”, said The Athlete.

“Who are you?”, said The Heckler.

“I’m BBB”, said I.

Special Notice for Young Penfold (and Other Persons of Limited Attention Span): You have reached the 2,000 word boundary. You can stop reading if you want, but there’s a biscuit in it for you (free biscuit applies only to YP, stocks are limited) if you get to the end without falling asleep.

“No, her”, he said, attempting to pointing at the GCG, but missing by an angle that may actually have been obtuse.

I reluctantly introduced the GCG.

“You’re very very very very pretty”, said The Heckler.

“Yesh”, agreed The Athlete.

“Can I have your phone number?”, said The Heckler.

“No”, said the GCG.

I cringed.

They eventually wandered off into the night, and – to be fair – did pay for our drinks…

Reggae Bar, Street 110, Phnom Penh
Day Four, 00:30

Finally, sometime after midnight, we had to bid each other farewell. Neither of us fancied a disco, she wasn’t quite so enamoured that she was about to abandon sufficient principles to sleep with me on our first (and doubtless last) date, and the longer we left goodbye, the harder it would be.

One very keen snog later (I cupped her boob, it was awesome), I dropped her back at her mother’s place in a tuk-tuk, waved a teary goodbye, and said “Martini’s, please” to the driver once she was out of earshot.

Martini’s, Street 95, Phnom Penh
Day Four, 01:30

What? I had a stiffy.

Oh, come on, you’d have done the same thing.

Oh yes you would.

Unfortunately, Martini’s was rough. Seriously rough. You might think that spending 90 minutes licking a hedgehog whilst watching Stoke vs Bolton with Glaswegian commentary would be quite rough, but the calibre of girls in Martini’s made such a desperate act seem almost smooth in comparison.

I bought a Heineken from the outside bar, and cast an eye around. Maybe there would be one cute girl, hiding in a corner.

There wasn’t. There were lots of middle-aged Western social outcast men wearing Grateful Dead tshirts and ill-advised facial hair, staring into space, and some of the roughest crack-whores I’d ever seen in my life. Daywalker would have loved it.

I peeked into the disco, where things were, if anything, worse.

Back to the main courtyard, I drank my beer alone and stared contemplatively at a tree.

It’s not that there aren’t hot girls in Phnom Penh, but as I think gavinmac suggested a while back, perhaps the recent relative explosion in hostess bars means that the talent is spread far more thinly – the freelancer pool in particularl is a shockingly pale shadow of its former self. Maybe each hostess bar has one truly hot girl. There are, what, a hundred bars? That’s a lot of ground to cover.

In comparison, a few years back I could expect to find perhaps 20 potential partners in Sharky’s and another 30 in Martini’s. Even with the disappearance of the Viets, I might have expected 10 and 15. This trip, for me at least, they were 0 and 0.

I was still sipping my Heineken, savouring my last beer in Phnom Penh in these far-from-idyllic surroundings that held memories of much more palatable times, when I felt a slight tickle on my arse.

I grabbed the girls’s arm as I span around, her fingers still stuck half-way into my back pocket. I wasn’t about to hit a woman, and with another 20 or so rough-looking girls looking on, I just called her a thief, pushed her away, checked all of my pockets (nothing missing), chugged the rest of my beer, and walked out.

“Bye bye, the Martini’s Mutant”, I said on the way out.

“Bye bye”, said he, flapping a rudimentary limb. I put a dollar in his hat.

We Drank Beer In The Tuk-Tuk On The Way To The Airport. It Rained.

Two hostesses, one bona fide date, the worst cinema experience of my life, and a narrowly-avoided pickpocketing. Not a bad extended weekend, although not a patch on my first PP trip a few years back (5 girls in 3 nights). The lack of Vietnamese girls, combined with the apparent absence of any attractive Cambodian freelancers, means that my next side-trip will definitely be elsewhere, though, unless I decide to marry the GCG in the meantime.

The hostess bars are cool for a night or two, and granted I still didn’t make it to Le Cyrcee or Sophie’s, but I just don’t feel like a fourth trip would add much to my other Phnom Penh experiences, particularly since the truly attractive girls seem to be scarcer and scarcer on each trip. Or perhaps my tastes have become more and more picky over the years – this is the danger of living in Bangkok, after all…

So whither BBB? Perhaps to Vietnam itself, or to The Philippines, where I still haven’t been despite my best efforts. Jakarta sounds good from what little I’ve heard. Rangoon? Shanghai? Llandudno? Where next, guys?

“Yeah, that’s fine”, said The Heckler.

There were no windows. Just the door through which the three of us peered, along with the awkward, smiling concierge. A plastic door led into a minimalist bathroom, on which more later, and there was a small television set at the end of the double bed. A bedside table, a fitted wardrobe, a desk and chair, and a tired pair of flip-flops completed the fixtures. Not luxury, but perfectly acceptable for $18.

“So we’ll take this room, and we’ll need two more like this one”, I said to the concierge.

“Two more? You want three rooms?!”

I’m not sure whether the concierge’s incredulous reaction to the fact that these three barangs (Thai: farangs, Eng: western barbarians) would not, in fact, be sharing a double bed said more about him, or the quality of guests attracted by the hotel, but the poor chap looked shell-shocked when he realised he’d have to dig out another couple of keys.

I actually upgraded to a $23 room, which had a window with a nice view onto the river. Through iron bars, naturally, but this was Phnom Penh after all. My two companions actually preferred the windowless rooms, being conducive as they were to quiet, and to dark. Two things we wouldn’t be experiencing much of.

Nice Riverside Cafe, Phnom Penh
Day One, 20:00

We were drinking Tiger, I think. Or Heineken. Or possibly Asahi. We weren’t drinking Anchor or Angkor though – the two local beers are pleasant enough, but if Cambodians are not to be trusted to operate an Etch-a-Sketch, then there’s really no reason to trust one’s digestive tract to the output of their breweries.

Cambodian kitchens, on the other hand, are another matter entirely. The chicken cordon bleu was excellent, The Heckler informed me. The Merguez sausages were pretty awesome too. The third member of our party was “on a diet, y’know? Uhhh, liquid diet. I’m in training, y’know? I’m kind of like… Uhhh, I’m an athlete.”

He is an athlete. Once described as being “like Tony Stark without that gay metal suit”, he is The Athlete.

666 Bar, Street 136
Day One, 21:30

“I’m an athlete. I’m the tri-state foosball champion,” beamed The Athlete at the eight hostesses currently in his vicinity. All were gratefully clutching lady drinks.

I was busy canoodling with a cutie in the corner, but The Heckler was fading fast. Jet lag, he said. Pussy. Before long, he barfined a fat chick and headed back to our hotel. Haha.

The Athlete and I continued drinking, flirting (with the girls, not each other), dancing (him, not me), buying too many drinks, and enjoying the attentions of pretty much all of the staff. Which was nice.

My cutie was certainly cute, but I wasn’t ready to barfine yet. I took her number, we got the bill ($120 or so – the owner looked positively orgasmic as we paid), and moved on to…

Sharky’s Bar, Street 130
Day One, 23:00

A few years ago, Sharky’s bar was simply the place to pick freelancers in Phnom Penh. At times a 50/50 split between Cambodian and Vietnamese talent, the morals were low and the prices were lower. $10 short times were commonplace, and the girls were of a quality that I would actually want to have sex with.

Today, the drinks are still cheap enough, but that’s about it.

As the Pattaya Ghost reported in his Songkran piece, the Vietnamese girls have largely disappeared. In fact, I saw precisely one definite Vietnamese girl during the whole trip, and she wasn’t very appealing. I didn’t ask every girl I saw, so perhaps there were a few Cambodian-looking girls who happened to be from Vietnam, but I can’t see it myself.

Anyway, we took seats at the bar and ordered. A bottle of Heineken for me, and a Heineken, a vodka red bull, two Jägerbombs, a Kamikaze, two B-52s and a white Sambuca for The Athlete. He’s in training. Liquid diet.

By the time I was half-way through my first bottle of beer, he’d also drunk half a Heineken, as well as the vodka red bull, one Jägerbomb, one of the B-52s and the Sambuca. Some people set Sambuca on fire while it’s still in the shot glass. The Athlete sets it on fire when it’s in his mouth.

The mute hooker mentioned in my last PP report was still there, and sat (optimistally, I thought) next to The Athlete. “She can’t talk? Fucking awesome”, was his response. Five minutes later, they’d left together, after he paid the $30 drinks bill with a $100 note and told the barmaid to keep the change. Pretty much all the other Western drinkers in the bar were nursing $1.50 draught beers. And shooting us daggers.

I finished my Heineken alone, decided that there wasn’t a single girl in Sharky’s with whom I would even have had sex for free, let alone paid for, and wandered back down to further investigate the hostess bars on St 136. On Nutter had recommended the 69 Bar as probably the closest thing to a gogo bar in Phnom Penh. I’d been told to expect girls wearing skimpy (by Cambodian standards) outfits, dancing on the bar and on tables, and a party atmosphere…

69 Bar, Street 136
Day One, 00:00

Now this was a lively place. Not the prettiest girls, once more, but they were doing their best to make up for it with sheer, unbridled enthusiasm. I still wasn’t ready to barfine though, and was preparing to leave for another bar when I saw her.

Wearing a miniscule crop top and hotpants, she was by far the hottest girl in the bar. I called her over, to discover that she spoke nary a lick of English. Using another hostess as a translator, we were able to communicate after a fashion – the only Khmer phrase I could recall with any degree of certainly at this point in the evening was “gadoor tom tom”, which means “massive wang”. Barfine was paid.

Hope and Anchor Pub, Phnom Penh
Day Two, 11:30

“Would you like your eggs scrambled or fried?”

“Fried, please.”

Once the full English breakfast had been dealt with, it was time to catch up with my pals.

Nice Riverside Cafe, Phnom Penh
Day Two, 12:30

“Hello, The Heckler. Have you seen The Athlete yet today?”

“No. He’s not at the hotel either.”

Shit. Maybe he didn’t make it home? I had left him with a system full of lots of booze and zero food. And a deaf-mute hooker.

Anonymous Hotel, Phnom Penh
Day Two, 13:00

We asked at reception whether he’d been in.

“Oh, Mr Athlete? Yes, him come in at 9am today, with girl no speak can not. Him dancing in the lobby this morning. Him stay new hotel now.”

“Which hotel?”

“The Kiwi Hotel, very close, on same road this – not far.”

We walked the entire length of the riverside looking for the Kiwi Hotel. There isn’t one.

After more interrogation of the desk staff, it turned out he’d moved to The Quay Hotel. Into a $140 a night suite. With the deaf-mute hooker. No answer from his room, so we assumed he was sleeping it off.

After an awesome late lunch at the FCC, we eventually caught up with him that evening in the hotel bar.

The Quay Hotel, Phnom Penh
Day Two, 18:00

“Hello, cute receptionist. Could you call up to Mr Athlete’s room please, and tell him his friends are waiting at the bar?”

Draught Tiger was, I think, $1 a glass. The glasses were kept in the fridge. Chilly. Good.

The Athlete emerged from the elevator wearing trainers (sneakers, Americans), boxer shorts and a bathrobe. And sunglassses. And nail varnish. And blue-black hair.

“What, not to put too fine a point on it, the fucking hell happened to you?”, I asked.

“Beer please”, he said. Not to me. To the bartender. And then, “yeah, y’know, we had a good night. You should have come along.”

“You know you haven’t checked out of the other hotel yet?”

“Yeah, good point. I’ll do that tomorrow. Probably.”

“And you realise you’re sat at the bar of what I’m going to assume is one of the most expensive hotels in Cambodia, separated from the street only by plate glass windows, wearing a fucking dressing gown and drinking beer?”

“I’m an athlete, man. You should have come along last night. I spent seven hundred bucks. If you’d been there, you’d be able to tell me what I spent it on…”

700 US dollars was more than my budget for the entire trip. I’d changed ฿20,000 at the airport, figuring ฿5,000 a night would do it. That’s not even 600 dollars, and that was for four nights.

“Oh, I remember where a hundred went”, he said. “We were in some swanky club, right?”

“You and the deaf mute hooker?”

“Right. Me and the deaf mute hooker. These guys, they might have been French, started taking the piss ‘cos she can’t speak. Now, I don’t mind having a laugh, but taking the piss out of someone’s disability is just wrong, right?”

“Right. How many guys?”

“Three or four, but I gave them a bunch of abuse anyway.”

“Oh dear.”

“Yeah, they were telling me they were gonna kick my head in outside the club.”

“So what did you do? Pay them a hundred to leave you alone?”

“Nah, fuck that man. Paid the bouncer a hundred bucks to kick ‘em out.”

Bravo.

“I brought four girls back, we stopped at the market to do my hair and nails. I think I gave the girls $50 each. Is that right?”

No. No, it isn’t.

The Green Vespa, Phnom Penh
Day Two, 21:00

The sausage and mash was excellent. The Heckler and The Athlete had the gumbo, which they told me was also excellent. The Athlete was still wearing his dressing gown, but had changed his trainers for slippers.

Phnom Penh has something of a reputation for being a little rough. Harsh, in my opinion – I’ve never had any problems. But still, wandering its streets in a robe and slippers is probably asking for trouble. I’d already voiced my concerns, but was roundly ignored. Put simply, I wasn’t prepared to endanger my own safety because my boozy pal couldn’t be bothered to dress. I gave him an ultimatum – put some clothes on, or I’ll just go solo. He refused. I left. No hard feelings, just not a situation I wanted to risk.

Random Hostess Bar, Street 104, Phnom Penh
Day Two, 22:00

I chilled out with a Heineken and the attentions of about nine hostesses. But none of them were quite up to my standards. That’s the thing about the Phnom Penh scene – it’s so cheap as to be practically free, but now that the Vietnamese have disappeared the truly attractive pickings are comparatively slim – certainly compared to Bangkok.

666 Bar, Street 136, Phnom Penh
Day Two, 23:00

And so back to the first hostess bar from the first night, to see if my cutie was around. She was. Pleasantries were exchanged, followed by money for drinks, and finally money for permission to accompany me back to…

Balcony, Anonymous Hotel, Phnom Penh
Day Two, 23:55

I famously quit smoking a while ago. But I still have the occasional one, at times of high stress, or perhaps if I’m drinking. Or on vacation. Or if I need a cigarette.

Smoking a Cambodian cigarette and watching a trickle of traffic go by, I was unexpectedly joined by The Heckler.

“Is he still wearing the dressing gown?”

“Yeah, but he went back to the hotel. Damn, I need to get laid. Your girl’s hot, can I borrow her?”

“How do you know she’s hot? And no, you can’t.”

“I knocked on your door first, she told me you were out here. She looks good in a towel. Could you just leave the curtains open so that I can sit out here and watch?”

“Sorry dude. No can do.”

“Damn. Okay, where’s the Heart of Darkness?”

“Street 53, I think. Any motodop will know it, just tell them you’re going to ‘Heart’.”

“Will do. Happy shagging”.

It was.

Concluded in Part Two, partly to irritate those who hate multi-part submissions but mostly because YP refuses to read anything much longer than 2,000 words…

As I had quickly learned on my first and second days in Sihanoukville, Cambodia’s third most-popular city is a great little beach resort but a bit dull as a P4P destination. By my Day 3, I’d come to the conclusion that making another run out to Victory Hill, or anywhere else besides the beach and the Freedom Bar, was going to be a waste of time.

So I made some decisions: First I booked a day of scuba diving that would require me to get up a 7 a.m. (and, thus, go to bed early and alone the night before) and then bought a bus ticket back to Phnom Penh, where I’d spent the previous Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights. Then I decided to hit Freedom Bar again, but – this time – earlier. It would turn out to be the best nightlife move I’d made all week.

I started the night like I wish I could start my nights here in Thailand: On the beach, drinking 50 cent draft and downing a mountain of fresh fish barbecue for $3. I then strolled back along the white sand back to my hotel, changed and hit Freedom around 9 p.m.

There were more girls here tonight including some I hadn’t seen and one, in particular, I’d seen and had spoken only a few words to all week. In the previous episode, I’d dubbed her The Queen. To narcissistically quote myself:

Tall, thin and in what seemed to be her uniform of white levis, mid-drift top and a Clara Bow flapper hat, she fluttered around the bar playing pretty much wherever she wanted, flirting with all the guys and collecting or handing out the odd dollar to other girls. She was more interesting than sexy and had a presence that rewarded her with at least one customer a night.

As I noted in my first Snooky dispatch, there was one particularly sad individual I dubbed Mr. Desperate, who seemed to follow her around Sihanoukville, rarely taking his eyes off her and unsuccessfully trying to regain her affections, which he’d obviously enjoyed at some point before, but was now deemed out-of-favor by Her Highness.

Me? I was intrigued, but I was not going to chase her around. So I decided to do what any fat, mid-40s guy would do to attract the bar’s top-totty: Lean up against the bar, try to look cool and make only one or two flirty remarks a night until she approached me. Dumb eh?

Well, this time it actually worked. In between shots of playing pool, she wandered over to joke and then came back to chat. Game done, she invited me for an audience at her table where two French guys were already sitting. One didn’t seem very happy to meet me.

The Queen Gets a New Nickname

I offered her a 75-cent beer – big spender that I am – and we started chatting, specifically about the Clara Bow hat, which covered up all her hair. Why does she wear that every night? I just had to know. Lifting up the hat, I had my answer and she had a new nickname:

The Monk.

Sure enough, she had less hair than I do after my monthly electric-clippers-on-2 haircut. Seems she’s just recently finished a stint in a temple, or monastery, or wherever females go to be monks. As I teased her about life without cigarettes, booze or sex she admitted that, in fact, she didn’t turn out to be a very good monk. Not sure how many of the vices she didn’t give up.

Looking around the bar, I then noticed another girl I’d seen twice with a long scarf around her head. I’m now thinking Freedom is Snooky’s official ex-monk hooker bar.

The Monk was as hard of a whore as you’ll find in Cambodia and would have been right at home at the back tables in Gulliver’s on Soi 5. She even adopted a Western name: Sofia. She had three pairs of genuine white Levi’s which she wore each day and tight little  mid-drifts. But she spoke great English, turned out not to be a snob at all and I decided my hunt for the night was over. More 75-cent beers please.

The hat subject dispensed with, I just had to know about Mr. Desperate, whose picture I snapped and seem to have deleted before I could write this, sorry. Yup, he was a former customer. No, contrary to my assumptions, he didn’t live in Snooky. Only here for five weeks. He picked up Sofia the first week or so, spent four nights with her and fell in love. He asked, then begged, for her to live with him the full five weeks. He was, of course, a Cheap Charlie, but even if the money was good, Sofia said, she wouldn’t have done it. Too clingy. So now she simply ignores him as he follows her from bar to bar.

He, too, seemed none too pleased that I was sitting at her table.

Me? I was loving it.

By now, we’re both getting a bit drunk on cheap Khmer beer and the French guy sitting next to me – who had thought he’d be leaving with The Queen Monk – was sitting glumly as his fellow Frog auditioned lower-tier Freedom girls. Sofia, who’d gotten only one beer off the guy, didn’t even seem to notice his red face when she suggested she and I head back to the beach.

Dolphin Shack, of course. This time we sat outside on low benches on the sand. She danced a lot (me a little), drank even more and then got into powder-throwing antics with other drunk Freedom girls who’d arrived. Quickly approaching that point where the Anchor (either one) would completely debilitate my hydraulics, I suggested we mosey on back to my place for a shower and whatever came next.

Shags and Showers

The seasoned veteran, Sofia was indeed a fine shag, but the real surprise in the sack was yet to come. (No, she’s not a ladyboy.)

At the outset, she’d said this was just a short-time tryst. Until she passed out. We slumbered together lovingly until about 6 a.m. when I was awakened with a shocking sensation.

The Monk peed on me.

Yes, I do mean urinated. While in her sleep.

Now I’ve had dreams about wanting to use the toilet, but I’ve always woken up before lifting the seat in said dream. It took a fountain of yellow shooting across me and the bed to jolt her awake.

Thankfully, the room had two beds. So, after she washed herself, me and the bedsheets (as well as use the proper toilet), we simply moved to the other mattress on the condition she wouldn’t soil this one too. At least not with bodily waste.

We awoke for good a few hours later, spilled some other bodily fluids on the second bed and she departed with $20 in her hand and a sheepish look on her face as she dropped the sheets off to housecleaning.

Back for More

As I noted, Thursday night was going to be an early one. The first dive shop that opens using a speedboat will take over the market. Because getting up at 6:45 to catch a slow converted fishing boat while on holiday is ridiculous. I had some beers at Dolphin Shack until midnight, didn’t see Sofia, and went to sleep like a good boy.

After diving, resting and eating, Friday night – my last in Sihanoukville – was on tap. What to do? Who am I kidding. It was back to the Freedom Bar. Sofia, who took Thursday night off as well, it turned out, was also in the house.

She was good (albeit wet), but I thought I’d like to try something else. But that wasn’t going to happen. I was now marked. No sooner had the bartender poured my beer and she was next to me. No other women approached me the entire night.

Realizing I had no other place to go, I decided to make the best of it with Sofia. The night played out similarly to 48 hours before except this time her stay in my room was indeed a $10 short-time and no unintended urinating occurred. She talked about going back to Phnom Penh with me but, despite exchanging phone numbers, I didn’t hear from her again.

The Last Word

Sihanoukville is the youngest city in Cambodia, only incorporated in the 60s. It’s also changing faster than you can spell Sihanoukville, If you’ve been there five years ago, you’d barely recognize it. The Snooky of the 90s is gone. And what has replaced it is not what many people expected.

For years I’ve heard how Sihanoukville was Pattaya 20 years ago and how it would be the next big monger destination. And, for a while, it seemed that might be true, as the Chicken Farm and other P4P venues sprung up. But in what most sane people would consider a wise move, the government intervened. Pattaya, as can be seen here, was once a lovely place with white beaches and unpolluted waters. Cambodia’s officials decided to see if they could keep Sihanoukville that way.

Beachfront guesthouses were banned and, in their place, the government invited in the Chinese and Koreans to build plush, private casino resorts. More than 90% of Sihanoukville’s beaches are now privately owned and, unfortunately, the lure of Chinese money has prompted the government to eat into a national park to make way for more casinos.

At the same time, the crackdown on P4P bit hard. No more short time rooms. No more barfines (allegedly). The Chicken Farm is all but gone.

The overwhelming reaction I’ve gotten to my two previous posts on Sihanoukville was “sorry, seemed like it sucked pretty bad” and “thanks, I was thinking of going, but now I won’t bother.”

Both sentiments would actually be wrong. I actually enjoyed my five days in Sihanoukville, but not necessarily for the reasons I planned to go there.

The place, particularly during the day, is actually pretty great, if you like nice beaches, low prices, friendly people, warm ocean water and decent food. If you’re young, can stay out until dawn and don’t mind sand in your shoes (and your underwear and your bed…), then Sihanoukville will be a lot of fun.

And, in truth, there are more than a few bars where there are more than a few women of loose morals who find older, fatter guys sexy. (Or at least they say so.) There are also spots that I didn’t try, such as what remains of the fabled Chicken Farm. I’m told most of it has been shut down due to many places selling chickens that hadn’t fully hatched yet. And there are some discos like the Airport Club and another joint called Blue Mountain which have gotten press but, at the time I was there, were deserted.

I definitely was cursed by my timing. Definitely do not to Snooky during Songkran. And that holds doubly true for Phnom Penh, which literally shuts down for four days or more.

Would I go back? Not alone. I’d each take my own sand to this fine beach or go with some mates. With beer so cheap, drinking with the boys would be a big draw. It would also make plundering the bars more fun.

There’s also the matter of the girls themselves, and this also applies to the capital. To me, they simply aren’t as attractive as Thai girls. I favor light-skinned Asian girls. The Khmers are mostly very dark. The Monk was like eating dark chocolate. As I mentioned in my Phnon Penh posts, the Vietnamese, at least for now, are gone. Not sure why, but they are not there now.  Also, if you’re into big bustlines, Cambodia will be a bust for you.

I will say, however, that I find the Khmers much more polite and friendly than the Thais Everyone was nice and you didn’t have the feeling you get in Bangkok, Pattaya and Phuket that you’re always a mark for getting ripped off. They may not smile as much as the Thais, but I feel these days the Land of Smiles is simply a mask for the Land of Sneers.

So, with all that in mind, if you still want to go, here are a few final tips:

• Accommodations – If you’re happy with fans and mosquito nets, there are tons of cheap rooms and bungalows for under $10 a night. Some are even free. Google it. For hotels, I can recommend Coasters, where I stayed, or Reef Resort, on the paved road near the Golden Lion circile. More expensive, but said to be worth it. And great food.
• Food – For dinner, you’d be an idiot not to eat on the beach each night. $3 for all that? Fuggitaboutit. For lunches, or a change of pace for dinner, check out Mick & Craig’s, a few doors down from Reef Resort. Reasonable prices and good menu. Skip the Mexican dishes, though. For that head right to Reef Resort which has the best Mexican I’ve had in Asia plus seemingly every tequila on the planet, some costing $10 a shot.
• Transport – To and from Phnom Penh, go out of your way if necessary to book a ticket on Mekong Bus Lines. Same price as the others, but great service, including free breakfast snack, water and wet towels. And they don’t steal your stuff like Paramount Bus Lines does. Inside Snooky, it’s “motodop” all the way. (Don’t ask me what the “dop” is for.) Short rides are just 50 cents and all the way across town is just $1.
• Shopping – Avoid the hotel shop rip-offs and go to the supermarket downtown. I forget the name, but just tell your moto guy ‘supermarket” and you’ll get there. There’s only one. And, during your quiet daytime, check out the huge covered outdoor market near the bus station. Some good deals to be had.
• Scuba Diving – There are three shops. My recommendation is The Dive Shop next  to Mick & Craig’s (despite its dumb name.) But beware, diving Sihanoukville is a lot like diving in Pattaya: Long boat ride, low visibility and no fish. But the coral is pretty nice and, during lunchtime, you eat on an island where the dive shop operates a guesthouse which has the following on the menu:  Beer: $1; Condoms $3; Herb: $1.50. Sounds like the perfect combination.

It was clear after the first day in Sihanoukville that if I wanted to fully enjoy my planned week in Cambodia’s beach resort, then I’d have to switch into conventional-tourist mode, at least part of the time. Clearly, the nightlife alone wasn’t going to be worth it.

So, during the days, I did my best soak up the beach, go snorkeling and scuba diving, hit the local market, eat, sleep, watch too much TV and try to relax after a stressful, uninterrupted four months of work. But when night fell on my second night, I set out on an aggressive plan to see what fun I could find off the beach.

According to the scarce amount of information about Snooky’s naughtly nightlife available online, most the action was around the Golden Lions roundabout, in the small downtown strip and on Victory Hill, on the other side of Sihanoukville from where I was staying on Serendipity Beach. While there were apparently a number of beer bars near the traffic circle, the one that seemed to get the most hype was a hostess club/disco called Pocoloco. The bar’s website showed a nice selection of about 25 hostesses, a big air-conditioned disco and a front pool-bar area. The reality was much different, however.

If It’s on the Web, It Must Be True, Right?

The first warning bell was sounded by my moto driver, who questioned my decision to go there and tried to persuade me I’d be much better off going to some dark alley for servicing by some undoubtedly too young Vietnamese girls. I insisted and when he dropped me off at Pocoloco’s door, I knew I’d made a mistake.

Inside the large bar were two service girls, two freelancers, three customers, no hostesses, a closed disco and a very depressed pair of bar owners. Gary, who started Pocoloco after previously owning the unfortunately-named Tsunami Bar in Pattaya in 2005, said the whole hostess concept was dropped due both to a lack of customers and a lack of willingness of the hostesses to get off their fat butts to service the few customers they did have. The next plan was to have it be a freelance joint, but the beach bars and Freedom Bar near the bus station covered that market. The new plan was to close for low season, as it was cheaper than staying open.

Gary was good enough, however, to ring a moto driver he trusted to show me around town, thus avoiding the motos-on-commission scams. Taa pulled up about 10 minutes later and, in between dropping off yaba to customers and picking up money from yaba dealers who worked for him, did a fine job of doing just that.

Victory Hill

The obvious next stop was Victory Hill, a section of Snooky near the port. Once we arrived I realized that, again, one should never believe bar websites.

We pulled off the paved road onto a small rocky side street that instantly transported me back to Soi 6, only with more mud. Small groups of old, fat and badly made up bargirls streamed out from their open-front drinking holes to surround the taxi before I even got off. I saw the signs for the bars I read about on the website, but their online personas were much more refined than what I found in person.

The Tropicana Bar website, for example, says:

The Tropicana Bar on Victory Hill in Sihanoukville has a long reputation for great service and is a place to meet good friends and listen to a big selection of music until the sun comes up. Our friendly hostess girls care for all your needs all night long.

What I found was an empty bar, Khmer music and two fat hostesses who, when swinging by 30 minutes later, also had departed leaving the bar entirely empty.

Faced with dire and desperate options, I made the best choice I could and had a drink in Safari Bar, whose website claimed was “one of the most popular girl bars on Victory Hill.” I was the only customer inside. I was escorted inside by a hostess who then promptly left and had to be beckoned back in to sit in a chair next to mine. (No sofas, sorry.)

My hostess confirmed what I’d suspected: Most of the girls had gone home for Khmer New Year. The girl seemed pleasant enough and was certainly the best-looking of the staff on hand, but seemed utterly uninterested in doing anything else than drinking $3 lady drinks. She got one. I had two $1.50 draft beers and fled to find something with a pulse.

Snakes and Freedom

Now around 11 p.m., that was not going to happen. I called Taa to come rescue me and off we went to the newest, and supposedly best, spot, The Snake Pit.

The bar attached to the Snake House hotel, the closest thing Snooky has to a go-go bar is located only about a five-minute drive from the other bars, but is down a long, dark jungle road that, according to legend, will cost you an absolute fortune to go to if you just pick up any moto. I’m told it’s best to have the moto take you to the top of the road if he wants to charge any more than $1 to take you to the bar’s door.

When Taa dropped me at the door, I quickly turned and told him to stay put. This was undoubtedly going to be a short trip. I walked in and found no women and no customers; only three bored Khmer guys who told me all the women had, you guessed it, gone home for New Year’s.

That was it. I give up on exploring and adventure. Taa, I said, take me to the only sure thing this town has: The Freedom Bar.

Freedom is to Sihanoukville what Walkabout is to Phnom Penh. Big, hot and filled with broken-down expats and hardcore whores, it’s the place long-time working girls spend their evenings before happy hour kicks in at Dolphin Shack. But the beer is cheap: I ordered a 75-cent Angkor draft and sat back to check out the scene.

There’s a big center bar, big-screen playing dinosaur-rock videos and three pool tables, worked almost exclusively by the working girls. At the bar I saw some familiar faces, including Mr. Infatuation from last night, guys missing limbs and some too large to fit on one stool.

As with most freelance pool halls, you can quickly figure out the social hierarchy and one particular girl – the one who’s every move was being watched by Mr. Infatuation – was clearly The Queen. Tall, thin and in what seemed to be her uniform of white levis, mid-drift top and a Clara Bow flapper hat, she fluttered around the bar playing pretty much wherever she wanted, flirting with all the guys and collecting or handing out the odd dollar to other girls. She was more interesting than sexy and had a presence that rewarded her with at least one customer a night.

The pretender to the throne was a shorter, more shapely girl with long blonde hair, short, tight and revealing dress and high heels who was cordial to The Queen but was not really a friend. She spent more time scowling than flirting, but was considerably better at pool. Very hot, actually, but if you took her, you could never have The Queen, and vice versa.

Truthfully, by this point, I was more interested in people watching and drinking than pulling. The Queen soon left a young buck, Mr. Infatuation looked even more glum, the bar was emptying and I called Taa to take me to the place everyone was heading: The Dolphin Shack on the beach.

Last Dance

Well intoxicated on cheap local draft by this point I continued to embalm myself on the same bar bench as last night. The bar was busier at the midnight hour than last night with a higher percentage of Khmer girls. The Aussie couples were still throwing powder and water around (to the point that, twice, the DJ had to stop the music and the idiots to knock it off inside the bar) and the Khmer girls were on the hunt.

One particular shark in this dolphin tank ended up making short work of me. Obviously celebrating her New Year hard, she walked up, placed her tongue down my mouth and her hand on my crotch and said “let’s go.” With such a sales pitch, who was I to argue?

As expected, the tryst didn’t last long and, $10 later, she was out of the room again, probably back to Dolphin Shack. I never did get her name, but I saw her do the same thing to a guy sitting next to me two nights later.

Hitting the sack alone, I realized I’d failed miserably in my quest to improve upon the previous night. New Year’s was proving a daunting obstacle to fun. The Victory Hill slut houses were almost empty, the Snake Pit was entirely empty and Freedom Bar was down to a handful of the hardest-core girls. And if you wanted to get laid, you needed to work the beach bars after 1 a.m.

It was at this point I began questioning whether I’d stick to my planned one week in Snooky. Tomorrow would be the make-or-break day. That, and final thoughts and notes on Sihanoukville, are in the final Part 5.

While my just-completed three days in Phnom Penh had always been on my to-do list, my real interest in escaping to Cambodia for Songkran was to visit Sihanoukville, a beach resort that everyone who’d been there said was great, and one that everyone who hadn’t been there said they’d heard was great. I planned a week there. This is a tale of how good, and how frustrating, “Snooky” can be.

Located 230km (143 miles) southwest of the capital, Sihanoukville is most often reached from Thailand via bus and ferry from Koh Kong, one of the world’s finest shitholes. The grueling journey that combines Thai transport with ferries and Khmer mini-buses is what put me off in the past. The idea of taking one large air-conditioned coach from Phnom Penh in just under five hours actually made the trip appealing.

As it turns out, there are multiple bus lines that run almost hourly to Sihanoukville. The public bus, from PP’s Central Market, is just $4. Too lazy to find out where to catch it, however, I booked a $7 ride on a private company called Paramount at the travel agency next to the Paragon. It turned out I should have asked around which company was best.

Being the Khmer New Year, the buses would all be full and even two days in advance my preferred 8:45 a.m. trip was sold out. I opted for the 9:45 a.m. and the agent booked me into Seat 3, which she said was good because it was at the front. She failed to mention the first row has no leg room, not a minor detail on a five-hour trip.

Away We Go

Monday the 13th dawned too early for me at 8 a.m., having tossed out my short-time girlfriend at around 2. I had planned to get up early, pack, have a leisurely breakfast and grab an unhurried tuk-tuk to the bus station about five minutes away. What I actually had was a lie-in until 8:45, a quick throw-together of my things and a rushed (and substandard) Eggs Benedict at the Hope and Anchor and a harried moto-ride to the station at 9:40 a.m.

Turns out I needn’t have rushed. The bus staff was still loading several motorbikes into the cargo hold of the bus, along with my bag. I was handed my bag-claim ticket and settled into my smallish seat. The bus left at 10 a.m.

The road to Snooky is said to be one of Cambodia’s best. And while it was smooth, if a little bouncy at times, it is only two lanes. The driver spends the entire trip with one hand on the wheel and one hand on the horn, scaring to the red earth shoulder the millions of motorbikes carrying two or three helmetless people. Get rid of the bikes and the trip would be an hour shorter. It also occurred to me that the shoulders were wide enough in most places that the government could have plans to widen the road. That’d be a good thing.

Leg cramps and the 7-foot Khmer guy in the seat next to me made sleep pretty much impossible, but the view out the windows was actually worth staying awake for. For anyone who has been upcountry in Thailand or in similar places, the scenery will be nothing new. But for me, it was a first-time in the village/jungle experience. The city quickly falls away and is replaced by rice paddies as far as you can see. The countryside is amazingly flat, with nothing on the horizon and few if any structures to be seen from the road.

Taking it in was lovely and bizarre at the same time, as the bus line’s choice of movie for the first half of the journey was “Rambo: First Blood Part II.” Seeing a young Sylvester Stallone blowing up legions of Asian people in countryside identical to what I saw out the window bordered on the surreal. And listening to Sly speak Khmer simply weirded me out.

At just past the two-hour mark we pulled into a roadside market for a much needed leg stretch and watering. For the first (and only) time in Cambodia, I was charged less than $1 for a Coke. (50 cents to be exact.) And it was even cold. There were a number of vendors selling very strange stuff they called food, but I passed. Twenty minutes later we were under way again.

Back on the road, the flat land and rice fields gave way to jungle and small mountains shrouded by gray thunderheads marked the horizon. Then, about an hour before arriving, houses, then shops, then towns started popping up along the road. At first they were the most primitive of wooden dwellings, on stilts with no windows and no running water. But soon sturdier buildings appeared and then, every once in a while, a palatial western-style house surrounded by fence and well-tended yard. Call me cynical, but I’d bet my bus ticket some woman once connected to a bar lived there on farang money.

At just past 2:30 p.m. the ocean came into view and, soon after, hoardes of overpriced tuk-tuk and moto drivers waiting for foreign bus passengers to be fleeced for rides into town. I grabbed my bag and found a decent moto driver who took me to the hotel for $1,50, just 50 cents over the correct rate I found out later. Tuk-tuks were asking $4 for the $2 ride.

The Coast with the Most

Sihanoukville has a number of beaches, but the one you want to stay on is Serendipity, the northern section of Occheuteal Beach. There are lots of accommodations options, some of which are actually free. Many bungalows can be had for $7-$10 with hotel fan rooms for $20-$25.

I’m not into backpacker travel and the humidity in Sihanoukville made me glad I’d booked an air-conditioned room at Coasters. Located at the far end of the beach, Coasters is one of the few hotels that actually can sit literally on the beach. Further down the government forced all the guesthouses off the beach. Now the bars that once had rooms upstairs had to either shutter them or convert them into staff accommodations.

I grumbled throughout my stay at the $35 a night room rate, but I saw nothing else comparable at the price. The water literally is less than 30 yards from the check-in counter and the hotel is extremely quiet at night. The room was big, with two double beds, aircon, fan, a very good hot shower, lots of cable TV channels and even a dedicated foot washer for all that pesky sand. (The sand is such a pain that a broom is placed in every room.) There’s also a restaurant and Internet cafe on site with decent, if slightly expensive, food. I ended up eating there only twice, however.

The only real jolt I had checking in was when I sat my bag down and noticed one of the outer pockets was unzipped. Seems the Paramount bus staff decided to clean out that luggage pocket in transit. Upon telling Coasters’ Irish proprietor what line I used he informed me they’d long ago dropped Paramount for poor service and sticky fingers. (I was to discover a week later that one of the items taken from that pocket was my set of house keys, leaving me locked out when I returned.)

Checked-in, I beat a hasty path to my room and a much-needed toilet break, followed by an even more-needed shower. Even for a five-year Thailand resident, the humidity was oppressive, even if the temperature was a couple degrees lower than Bangkok on that day. If you come to Snooky, bring lots of t-shirts. Next stop was lunch downstairs. While delicious, $6.50 for a burger, fries and Diet Coke was a bit much, in my opinion.

Lay of the Land

Fed and watered, it was time to start exploring, starting with the beachfront. There’s no road that runs along the water, so most places are most-easily reached via walking on the sand. And, it being 4 p.m., seems I’d just embarked upon my journey at happy hour. The funny thing is every beachfront bar pretty much operates the same way, with a covered bar area back from the water, rattan moon chairs on the sand and BBQ special.

Let me tell you, eating and drinking at night in Snooky is very cheap. Happy hour runs until 10 p.m. most places and large mugs of draft Anchor or Angkor beer is just 50 cents (That’s 18 baht to you swilling down the brew in Bangkok.)

TIP: The two local beers have nearly identical-looking names (and logos). Anchor is pronounced “Ann-Chore” and is better in cans. Angkor is most closely pronounced “En-Core” and seemed more tasty on draft.

The barbecue deal is even better: Your choice of (very tasty) fresh snapper, barracuda, jumbo prawns or squid, plus potatoes/rice/chips, salad and garlic bread is just $3. Big eaters (like me) can enjoy a whole (and huge) red snapper grilled to perfection in a sweet and sour glaze plus all the fixings for $5. The same fish meal in Pattaya would have been more than double that.

Then, of course, you have the pleasure of enjoying the cheap eats and drink sitting on a comfy beach chair feet from the waterline watching a brilliant pastel sunset. Not a bad way to spend the early evening.

Still amazed at the beer prices, I sent Bangkok Bad Boy an envy-inspiring text about it. His reply left me wishing I hadn’t:

“Fuck, that’s cheap! Are the girls any better there than here?”

I was too embarrassed to answer that I actually hadn’t seen an available Khmer woman yet.

Whiel sunsets and good food are peachy, I didn’t come to Snooky to just looky. My jaunt down the beach confirmed what I’d suspected: This place is a resort for loved-up couples, fat English and Australian women traveling in packs and backpackers. The bars this time of night were devoid of not only Cambodian girls, but customers of any sort. I asked Jack of Jack’s Shack, one of the more popular beach bars, where all the people were between 6 p.m. and midnight. His reply? Eating, swimming or watching TV. Oh boy.

Although I’d done some research on where to find the women, it seemed I needed more intel. So it was back to the Internet cafe for more reading. I found some message board postings with more current information than I originally turned up and the news was grim. New Cambodia Rumor #2, which I confirmed a few days later, was that in February the Khmer government changed the laws to prohibit bars from having short-time rooms. Basically, you can have girls and you can have short-time rooms, but not both. A Phnom Penh bar owner told me a few days later the change has devastated his business and he’s let go 20 of the 25 women he had on the payroll.

In Snooky, it was even worse. New Cambodia Romor #3 says that Sihanoukville officials have also now outlawed barfines, though I was never able to confirm that.

Now left wondering what I’d gotten myself into, I headed back to the room, sleepy from beer, food and the long travel. Turned on the news to watch the Red Shirt Follies and some HBO then dozed for a while. Woke at midnight and decided to check out the beach bars. How to dress for a beachfront disco? Were Quality Fabrics required? No idea. So I simply threw on some shorts, polo shirt and my sandals and headed out.

A Sore Thumb

Things were easier to sort out now, as most bars were quiet and dimly lit and just three pumping out the tunes: Jack’s Shack, the Dolphin Shack and another shack to the left of Dolphin I never made it to. Jack’s was empty and even Jack wasn’t around to shoot the shit with, so I pulled up a bench at the bar at Dolphin and started in on the draft beer on the $1 cans of Anchor. (I was to learn later draft beer from 10 p.m. to midnight is just 25 cents and vodka drinks are $1 from midnight until 1 a.m.)

This was Monday the 13^th, the official Khmer New Year’s Day and the mood was up. The bartenders had a couple of water guns which they occasionally squirted around. Normally adverse to water throwing at night, I was actually wishing they’d do more: The humidity was absolutely stifling and sweat was pouring off me and pretty much all the tall, young and beautiful white couples around the place. Seems I’d also underdressed. Even though the floor of the Dolphin Shack is sand and the dance floor a few slabs of sandy concrete, woman were dolled up in dresses and guys were in long-pants with closed shoes. A small number of people were in the casual mode, but the next night I did put on some jeans, with sandals.

As the place continued to fill up, it was 95% white girls and a few below-average Khmer girls. But what was particularly striking was how the mongers in the crowd stood out like a sore thumb. There was me, obviously alone and 20 years older than most the crowd. Next to me was an even older Scandi named Jan, very drunk and decked out in his finest Thailand tank top with sweat and beer dripping off his white goatee. Not sure which way Jan swings, but when he shook hands with me, he exclaimed “such strong hands!”and wouldn’t let go. Once freed, I got up and moved. But later, I saw him crashing in flames trying to pick up on a couple attractive 20-something Aussie girls. So who knows.

In all, there were about six of us among the pretties, all looking kind of pathetic. I was ready to pack it in for the night, but decided more alcohol might improve the outlook.

Finally, about 1:30 the Khmer girls started in arrive in numbers and, beer goggles or no, there were more than a few hotties. Where the hell were they until now? Many hang at the Freedom Bar across from the bus station, but as I was to find out the next night, many of them do not.

Being New Year’s, most the girls were more interested in water/powder play than foreplay. One sad bloke, who I was to see alone, miserable and trying to attract the attention of one particular whore every night that week, was doing his best to drag over any brown-skin he could grab onto, without much success. The real hotties zeroed in on the young bucks in the crowd. I simply sat back to check out the scene to see how it worked.

I finally caught the attention of a cutie in jeans and tight-fitting t-shirt as she came to the bar to order more beers. Enough conversation passed that I finally invited her back to the room, but she said she just wanted to celebrate New Year’s. Ten minutes later I saw her heading out with another guy with less hair and, obviously, more money than me.

Turns out, however, that while I’d been chatting her up, I noticed her friend, darker (not a plus in my book), but taller and more slender and looking very hot. Once her friend departed, I waved over her pal and, within minutes, she had me head out first and wait for her near the water. Seems that while she’ll pick up a customer occasionally, she’s still sensitive to people seeing her leave with one.

She was drunk, half-covered in powder and did not go willingly into the shower. But I’d be damned if all that dust was going to end up in my bed. And then, even though I told her “long time” she didn’t stay long. Our one round was a knockout. But as penalty for making an LT and ST, she was rewarded with a $10 note to only minor protests.

Closing the door after her, I was wondering if this is what my week in Snookyville was going to amount to: Waiting until 1 a.m. to start scouting girls, until 3 a.m. to get laid once and waking up alone. Surely, there had to be a another way?

There was, but you’ll have to wait until Part 4 to find out what it is.