All is quiet . . .

All is quiet. But it wasn’t last night. We are in Kep, a sleepy seaside resort town that has seen more excitement in previous years. It was a major resort during the French Colonial period in Cambodia, when wealthy French villas lined the coast. During Khmer Rouge days it was considered endemic of the oppressors of colonialism and was destroyed almost completely. Now, the shells and ruins of villas line the coast, but just inland are a series of simple resorts catering to mostly Western patrons.

Last night we had a sunset kayak courtesy of the Sailing Club, an easy-going resort on the sea front. The water here is just a few feet deep for a few hundred yards out and the wind was very quiet. Afterward, as the light disappeared over Rabbit Island, we sat down to some of the local specialities, such as squids with Kampot peppers.

There were a few private parties coming into the Sailing Club, so we had promised to have our meal and move on by 7pm when the hoopla would begin. After dinner we played dozens of games of Uno as the night settled down and the employees scurried about preparing for the large groups. Two guys showed up with a electric piano and saxophone and began playing a variety of jazz, old folks songs like “Those were the Days” and MOR and 90s pop songs. They were competent and I was drawn to sing along. Finally I did get up and join them a bit. The book they sang from was the pianist’s fake book, he was a music therapist at a mental institution in Holland.

The groups began to arrive, one held our new acquaintance Sithy so we were greeted warmly and introduced to the older French speaking set for her dinner.

There was a major storm system in the area the last few days, though we had not seen very much rain. While kayaking we could see a few areas across the Gulf of Thailand that showed heavy rain. But it was with complete surprise that the loudest most intense deluge that I have witnessed in 30 years fell on the shore of the Gulf. It began strongly and just got stronger. One of the outdoor parties, an elegant younger French-speaking group, something like trustafarians or NGO workers in their cosmopolitan best finery, came running inside while their zen candle-bedecked tables were drenched and the barbeque pit was quickly extinguished. The staff (and patrons) went scurrying about rolling down great bamboo awnings all around the deck tables area and we all went into the main room with the piano.

The Dutch guys had finished and some of the young crowd wanted some music. I seized the moment, plunked down and launched into “Like a Rolling Stone”. The room exploded in sing-along as the rain grew even fiercer. At the peak of one chorus the entire place blacked out, but the gang kept on singing with loud hand-clapping as accompaniment. It was a peak New Year’s moment.

We were invited to stay by Olivier, the host of the party, an NGO worker who had excellent Khmer language after living here the last two years. We declined the invite as Bodhi had had enough and we wanted to make sure we could get home on our rented moto whose engine we were certain was so wet it would not start.

It did take a bit of doing to start the moto and slog up the muddy track to the main road. We tried for one more place, “The Riel” a bar which promised ice cream. As we entered, the owner, a wild-eyed looking Dutchman announced to the entire bar (no more than a few tables of tourists), the following: “I have been bit by a ‘scorpio’ and must go to the hospital, I hope I will be all right and I will be back in one half hour.” He said it again a few times. We asked his Khmer friend who had stepped in for him for the ice cream, as he was leaving he ran back in and told us “oh no, my freezer has exploded and the ice cream is at Julian’s place.”

We decided to call it a night and came back to Kep Lodge for a Battlestar Gallactica marathon. By midnight, Amee and Bodhi were asleep and I could here fireworks exploding and strains of “Moondance” by Van Morrison from the bar here at the lodge. I had no desire to go mingle with strangers and went to sleep as well. The peak moment had occurred, singing out loud in a deluge, now cozy, near family, what could be a better way into the New Year.