Beaches again at last
After nearly a month away from the pristine beaches of the Philippines, we finally made it back to the coast — and not a moment too soon.
Kep: The Ghost of St Tropez in Cambodia
Kep, tucked away in Cambodia’s southeastern corner near the Vietnamese border, was once the St Tropez of Southeast Asia. The French elite used to hang around in glamorous villas, sipping wine and enjoying the sea breeze.
Today, those villas are mostly abandoned, blackened shells — eerie reminders of how quickly everything changed when the Khmer Rouge arrived. Some are now squatted in, others repurposed into things like nurseries, which shows the creativity of the locals.
But the rest of Kep is waking up again.
Tourism is back, guesthouses are popping up everywhere, and the town has a charming, sleepy vibe — like a ghost town slowly remembering it can live once again.
The streets are so spread out and quiet that seeing another human felt like spotting a rare species. We grabbed the guesthouse’s free bikes and explored at a leisurely, sweaty pace.
The sunsets were spectacular. Down by the sailing club bar, we found the perfect spot to watch the sky turn a bright, fiery red over the islands.
The Crab Market: A messy dining experience
Kep is famous for its crab market. Go early and you’ll see thousands of crabs hauled ashore in wooden baskets, with locals buzzing around choosing their dinner.
We sat down at one of the cafés by the water and ordered four crabs for the two of us.
I’d forgotten how much work crab is. I’m a fast eater — I like food that goes straight from plate to mouth, not food that requires engineering tools and a degree in patience.
We spent hours cracking, crunching, and excavating tiny pieces of meat. Crab juice and shell fragments ended up on me, the tablecloth, the floor, and possibly the ceiling. Even the geckos on the wall fled for safety. By the time we finished, I was starving again.
Rabbit Island: Rustic Bliss
Koh Tansai (Rabbit Island) is just twenty-five minutes by boat from Kep. It’s rustic, simple, and wonderfully quiet — just a handful of basic bungalows on the island’s only inhabited beach. The rest is dense jungle, with a footpath leading to a couple of other beaches.
We checked into a beach hut for two nights and did absolutely nothing. Seven families live on the island, mostly fishing or farming coconuts. The water wasn’t postcard‑perfect, and the sand wasn’t blindingly white, but being offline, unplugged, and unbothered was paradise enough.
Kampot: Colonial Charm & Café Culture
Half an hour up the road, Kampot greeted us with crumbling French colonial buildings, riverside cafés, and a wonderfully relaxed atmosphere. It’s the kind of place where you instantly slow down without even trying.
Koh Rong Sanloem: Paradise Found
After a forgettable stop in Sihanoukville (big, tacky, and best left behind), we caught a boat to Koh Rong Sanloem — touted as the last untouched paradise in Southeast Asia. For once, the hype was accurate.
There are no roads, no vehicles, and only a dozen bungalow clusters scattered around the island. Saracen Bay, the main beach, is enormous — so quiet that it has only nine places to stay sparsely scattered along the bay, you still feel like you’ve got your own private slice of paradise.
The sand squeaks underfoot like fresh snow, and the water is shallow, warm, and crystal clear. Hammocks, swings, treehouses — the whole place is designed for maximum laziness.
We stayed at Freedom Bungalows, where the owner had cleverly turned a river from a nearby waterfall into a natural swimming pool. Genius.
We trekked through dense jungle to the far side of the island, where the beaches somehow got even better. Powder‑white sand, bath‑warm water, and not a soul in sight. Heaven.
Snakes & Stomping
We’d heard rumours about snakes on the island — apparently more Cambodians lose limbs to snake bites than to landmines. Comforting.
On our second trek, despite watching every step, I somehow nearly trod on a tiny snake. Anya calmly pointed it out while I performed a silent internal scream. It was only a foot long, but we’d just watched a documentary on the Russell’s viper — one of the world’s deadliest — and I’d read that morning that they live in Cambodia.
For the rest of the walk, I stomped like Bigfoot ensuring anyone within half a mile would be scared off.
Koh Rong: From peace to 18–30 vibes
Leaving Sanloem was painful, but curiosity dragged us to its bigger sister, Koh Rong, just a short boat ride away.
If Sanloem was serene paradise, Koh Rong was New York City — if New York City were run by 18‑year‑old backpackers on their first tequila binge.
The moment we stepped off the boat, we were herded to a café for an “island debrief”. It felt like either school orientation or a Club 18–30 holiday.
We were given a welcome drink and told about tequila nights, zip lines, happy hours, and theft warnings. We immediately wanted to go back to Sanloem, but sadly our ticket was one‑way.
Then came the “baked cookies” incident.
A sign advertised them for $6.
“That’s a bit pricey” I commented
“They contain hash” the spotty teenager sniggered at my ignorance
“Do you have any without hash” I enquired, clearly out of my depth of today’s youth trends
“Try the supermarket” was the sniggering reply….and I’m pretty sure “old man” was muttered under his breath.
Apparently baked cookies here are only baked in one very specific way and its not the way I do them back at home.
To be fair, the beach was stunning — as beautiful as Sanloem.
If we’d come here first, we’d have been blown away. But Sanloem had spoiled us.
Still, we found a quiet spot at the far end of the beach, settled into our hammocks, and remembered how to relax again. Even with the party potential, we stuck to our 9pm bedtime like the wild party animals we are.
Koh Kong: A Glimpse of Real Cambodia
Back on the mainland, we stopped briefly in Sihanoukville to see friends, then headed to Koh Kong, near the Thai border. The region is largely untouched — pristine beaches, conservation areas, and a sleepy town used mostly by expats from the Thailand side, doing visa runs.
We hired a scooter and explored a nearby fishing village called Ba Klong, where we met Diego, a Puerto Rican Peace Corps volunteer.
He showed us around the village and his host family’s home — one of those unexpected encounters that gives you a real glimpse into everyday Cambodian life. The villagers greeted us with huge smiles and warm hellos.
Later that day, we crossed the border by Tuk Tuk and minibus, heading for the Thai town of Trat and the Ko Chang archipelago.
A Fond Farewell
Cambodia’s southern coast has been a joy to explore.
There’s still so much untouched coastline, though with Russians and Chinese buying up land faster than I buy real cookies, it probably won’t stay that way for long.
Cambodia has been the country we’ve spent the most time in — and the people have been the warmest, friendliest, and most welcoming.
From ancient temples to sleepy colonial towns, edgy cities to jaw‑dropping beaches, this country has so much going for it.
Here’s hoping the future is as bright as the smiles we met along the way.
