'Paradise on Earth'

I wouldn't go as far as saying I had home sickness, but after six weeks of travelling I was definitely missing the sea.

It's one of those things I take for granted being in North Devon - as well as the rolling hills and green fields, living next to the beautiful coastline is such a privilege. I know that at home you have been experiencing just how mighty the Atlantic Ocean can be. We have followed the news anxiously whilst we've been away; watching reports of powerful waves and big tides smashing into the Southwest - hoping and praying that everyone was okay. At some stages it sounded as though the region might be underwater by the time we returned. But even when it's angry, there is something about the sea that draws me to it. I get a bit restless, almost agitated, if I don't see it for a while. So I was excited when the next leg of our journey took us away from the Phnom Penh, south to the seaside town of Sihanoukville.

We'd decided to travel to this beach resort as it was home to a Vietnamese Embassy which would allow us to finally get a visa and head into Vietnam. The process would take a couple of days, which meant that we would have to relax and lie on a beach for a few days. It would be a real chore.

Instead of staying in Sihanoukville, a town rapidly growing as Russian billionaires build big hotels and erect 'Irish' pubs, we got on a boat and made our way to the little island of Koh Rong.

The journey there took a couple of hours - although it wasn't as stomach churning as taking the Oldenburg out over the Bar, I still kept an eye on the horizon to avoid feeling ill. Despite my love for the sea I still feel I have a 'landlubber's' tummy - lying on a waterbed can be enough to make me feel queasy! Many of my childhood camping holidays to France were bookended by my Dad and I turning green on board one cross-channel ferry or another - usually whilst my darling sister grinned and ate a Mars Bar in front of us.

To my relief we arrived stomach in tact and found our bungalows. Perched above the dozens of small bars and restaurants that lined the sea front our lodgings were very basic - we shared them with the rats who used our beams as a highway and there was only electricity for a few hours a day - but they made us feel like we were a little more removed from civilisation, which was nice. 

We wasted no time running down to the beach and diving into the small breakers that washed on to the pristine white sand. As we did, we bumped in to Clem, the French girl who had endured our company in Siem Reap. She seemed genuinely pleased to see us (or at least feigned happiness at the encounter) and introduced us to her countrymen, Antoine and Paul.

The next few days we spent our time exploring the island and enjoying the sunshine. We all managed to develop a nice red tan and, despite using a large percentage of the aftersun cream, I'm pretty sure that I could still see Steve and Nick glowing when the lights were switched off.

On one of the days, we joined our French friends and walked though the jungle to the otherside of the the island. Peculiarly, our pathway was marked using flip flops, perhaps, we thought, left by the victims of the snakes this sign warned us of...

Undeterred, we march through thick forest and then down a very steep path to Long Beach. At the bottom we realised our trek had been well worth it; Clem described the view that greeted us as, "Paradise on Earth!" Which wasn't a bad description.

Long Beach stretched as far as the eyes could see - 7km of the white sand and turquoise sea, with barely a soul on it (picture Westward Ho! without the pebbles!).

We spent a glorious afternoon there, swimming and trying to take in the beauty around us.

Later, after the sun had set over the water, we got a boat back to our side of the island. Only when we had all waded through the water and paid our fare did we realise that the boat's crew appeared to be made up entirely of children under the age of twelve. All I could think, as our captain sailed round the headland, was that Chris de Burgh had often warned me as a child, "Don't pay the ferryman 'til he gets you to the otherside." And now I had foolishly ignored him. 

Thankfully, Mr de Burgh was wrong this time and our very competent sailors got us back safely, before, presumably, heading home for hot milk and a bed time story.

Our last night was spent challenging Antoine, Paul and Clem to a card game called Tarot. Despite only learning the game recently we recorded a victory for England - it couldn't make up for our defeat in the Six Nations rugby, but any victory over the French is always satisfying.

Not for the first time on our trip, the three of us were reluctant to leave such a beautiful place. Everything about Koh Rong, despite the rats, had been idyllic. But we had a feeling that the rest of the journey through Southeast Asia would present us with a few more glimpses of 'Paradise on Earth'.