Cambodia’s Sweet Spot

Tiny restaurants on Koh Rong Island offer cheap food and beer overlooking the Gulf of Thailand. (Justin Mott for The New York Times)

March 2, 2012
By ONDINE COHANE
The New York Times

ON a sunny weekday in Kep, a seaside village about halfway along Cambodia’s coast, the crab market was heaving. Women in straw hats and rubber boots stood knee deep in the surf shouting out prices, periodically darting into the sea to pull writhing specimens out of wicker baskets. Children of all ages ran through the stalls; it seemed as if the entire town had congregated in this one main square.

Nearby, suspended over the water overlooking the South China Sea, rickety open-fronted restaurants were perched on stilts. At one of the smallest, the Seagull, I sat with my son and husband watching wooden fishing boats move slowly along the coastline as the family who owns the spot prepared what would be the finest steamed crab I had ever tasted. Even my one-year-old tucked into the white buttery meat.

It was a scene that felt quaintly out of time, made all the more novel because we were somehow able to exist seamlessly within it. No one tried to sell us souvenirs or offer to guide us around town. It was just life as it had always been and always would be.

But of course this wasn’t true.

While we sat, lucky guests in this rustic tableau, not far away new bridges and roads were being completed; luxury resorts, casinos and golf courses mapped out; shopping malls planned.

All this in an area of Cambodia occupied by the Khmer Rouge as recently as 1995.

Like so many places that have dropped from, and re-emerged in, the traveler’s gaze, this area of southwestern Cambodia is in the midst of a now-familiar cycle. First come the backpackers, lured by tales of simple coastal villages and untouched island beaches. Next come the pioneering hoteliers, establishing in-the-know outposts of taste and luxury. Finally the big money arrives and, with it, the big plans.

Right now the area around Kep is still in that traveler’s sweet spot — mostly itself, but with roads and a few boutique hotels here and there for those who want them.

Yet as I would see over the course of two weeks, change is afoot. The crowds will surely be coming, but before they do I wanted a chance to see it for myself.

JUST a few hours from Phnom Penh, the country’s capital, Kep started out as a stylish retreat for the French in the 1920s, and by 1960 was called the St.-Tropez of Southeast Asia (Kep-sur-Mer), with modernist colonial villas built along the coast and weekenders arriving in vintage convertibles. When the Khmer Rouge set up camp here in the 1970s the French beat a retreat, and the villas fell into disrepair.

In the last five years, however, a number of these structures have been turned into boutique hotels — properties like Villa Romonea, which opened in 2010, and Knai Bang Chatt, which opened a few years before.

Villa Romonea was the dream second home of a Khmer woman who built the house in 1968 with the help of a famous local architect, Lu Ban Hap. It was the last villa built before the war, and the owner and her husband, a pharmacist, were killed in the early days of the Pol Pot regime. Now British developers have taken over.

The six-room hotel with its saltwater infinity pool and tropical grounds is representative of the kind of small-scale enterprises that have been spreading across southwestern Cambodia. Many are run by foreigners who discovered the area early on and wanted an excuse to stay. Jef Moons, Knai Bang Chatt’s Belgian owner, first saw Kep in 2003 while on a vacation. He then proceeded to buy a Le Corbusier-influenced villa, which he restored initially into a vacation home and then, in 2006 — a hotel. “I first fell in love with the people in Cambodia,” Mr. Moons said, “but also with the nature. It still feels remote.”

Over the course of my stay last year, I tried out both hotels. Each, set along the tranquil rocky coast, proved difficult to leave. One could camp out for days, sitting at waterfront tables watching the boats pass by and taking brief strolls into town. They were also incredibly good spots to be with a baby; everyone from cooks to hotel managers treated my son like a visiting celebrity.

But I was eager to explore the surrounding countryside, in particular the inland region to the northwest and the beaches and islands up the coast — areas, I had been told, whose futures were already being plotted by Chinese, Russian and Cambodian conglomerates eager to make their mark.

Our first trip was to Kampot, about an hour away. One can arrange to hire a car and driver but we decided to rent motorcycles. After leaving the baby in capable hands at Knai Bang Chatt, we sputtered along, passing countless oxen knee deep in rice paddies, bustling markets and clusters of little villages made up of traditional stilt houses.

Decades-old Toyota Camrys seem to be the local car of choice (I noticed one with California plates), which shared the road with an assortment of scooters, bikes and vans that double as buses, not to mention the water buffalo, chickens and pigs that shuffled about amid the traffic.

In Kampot, a quiet city set alongside pepper plantations and forested hills, we drank coffee at one of the cafes that have sprouted in the crumbling 1920s verandas that front the lazy Praek Teuk Chhu River. Kampot was once one of the country’s most important ports, and is still the center of Cambodia’s pepper production; its streets are lined with turn-of-the-century colonial buildings, now mostly in disrepair.

As we sat watching boats make their way along the river, we were again struck by the startling lack of hawking here — especially compared with many tourist towns in Vietnam and Thailand.

Another observation: There were few people in their 40s, 50s and 60s. The reason for this speaks to the horrifying fact that between 1975 and 1979 a fifth of the population was wiped out under the regime. The Khmer Rouge endured in Kampot through much of the 90s, much later than other parts of the country, and almost every person I met lost at least one close family member or friend.

Despite this, a sense of unrelenting friendliness pervaded. As we meandered around the neighborhoods behind the riverfront, no one seemed to register our difference except maybe by giving us a wave.

But the sleepy atmosphere of Kampot belied the busy construction going on above, in the old mountain retreat of Bokor.

Almost a hundred years ago, about 20 miles from Kampot in the cool mountains of Preah Monivong National Park, the French created a summer escape from the intense heat of the capital and plains below, with a hotel, casino, post office and church. The mammoth, once-opulent buildings of marble and timber were initially abandoned in the 1940s during the first Indochina war and then again in the 1970s when the Khmer Rouge took them over.

More recently, according to Stephane Arrii, the Villa Romonea’s manager, they were the site of clandestine New Year’s parties, with expatriates and Cambodians dancing together in the spooky bullet-riddled ruins of the former casino with its graffiti-covered walls and echoing drawing rooms. Intrepid travelers would take daylong hikes through the jungle or suffer the bumpy roads in 4x4s to see the dilapidated icon.

When I was there a year ago, however, it took quite a lot of maneuvering to arrange a visit, as the area is once again the object of a developer’s dreams. Sokimex, Cambodia’s oil and banking company, along with its hospitality division, Sokha Hotels & Resorts, is redeveloping the area and is busily creating access roads. After multiple calls Ms. Arrii was finally able to arrange for a guide to take a couple of Belgian birders and me to see the work in progress (though it wasn’t until a park ranger gave us the final go-ahead that we were assured access).

The route, once almost impassable in a car, was being turned into a multilane paved road that has now been completed. It snakes through forests that are reputedly teeming with rare birds and animals — including, some say, Cambodia’s last tigers. And even though we went on a Sunday, construction was moving at a furious pace, with young men paving the remaining miles up to the top. To keep efficiency at a maximum, temporary encampments had been set up along the way. Toddlers wandered about; lines of washing hung outside trailers.

As we made our way farther into the hills, the bright sun of the coast turned to fog; soon we couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of the jeep. Finally, the outline of two hulking structures came into view — the casino and the church. Out of the car we were able to freely explore, peering in to see what looked like acres of elaborate mosaic floors, mostly smashed. An unending chorus of bird calls wafted up from the jungle below.

Plans for a casino, a cable car, an Arnold Palmer golf course and 652 guest rooms all seemed improbable when I saw the site, but construction has moved quickly. The hotel is scheduled to open this season and work is under way at the casino.

MEANWHILE, thanks to Cambodia’s wealth of not only history but natural beauty, ambitious plans are simultaneously unrolling up the coast to the north.

Before I had come, a friend had written to me about the coastline: “The sand is like snow and there are miles of crystal-clear-water beachfront with nothing there.”

In other words, unlike the oceanfront in Kep, which is mostly rocky, the sandy coast to the north is resort-ready, and resort owners have taken notice. Not that it’s entirely deserted. There are simple seafront villages along the coast on some of the bigger islands. Populated by fishermen and their families as well as people from nonprofits there to teach about sustainable fishing practices (and English), the ramshackle outposts are a colorful part of any visit here.

To get a more intimate sense of the landscape, my friend put us in touch with Claude Du Dinh Tan, a Franco-Vietnamese man who rents a small collection of bungalows in the hills above Sihanoukville and leads dive excursions.

As we chugged around the islands and the mainland’s coastline in his small motorboat, Mr. Du Tinh Tan, who arrived here in 1992, did not try to conceal his feelings about the planned development. “It is forbidden to build concrete hotels on the beach,” he pointed out, as we drove by what was at the time an almost-completed concrete tower sitting on a prime piece of beachfront. “But it seems like local officials are just turning a blind eye to this kind of site.”

The suggestion that developers are playing fast and loose with a pristine area was echoed throughout the day as we toured the hundreds of islands, many of them marked by a single, unassuming flag indicating some sort of ownership or planned development.

One of the closest to Sihanoukville, Snake Island, was recently connected to the mainland by a large concrete bridge that was forced to close soon after it was opened because parts of it were buckling. A Russian company apparently has plans to populate the island with a resort, a yacht club and shopping centers.

Luckily (and thanks in large part to the global financial meltdown of the last few years) the more egregious development plans seem to be moving slowly. Except for the bridge and the concrete hotel, Cambodia’s version of a Macao on the beach still exists only on paper. The few projects that have been realized, like the recently opened Song Saa on the island of Koh Rong, tend to be high-end and lower-impact — 27 luxury villas mixed with an emphasis on sustainability and community participation.

In the meantime, there are still too-good-to-be-true budget places. We stopped at one of them, called Angkor Chum, on the southwestern part of Koh Rong, for a meal on the way back to Kep: $15 (American dollars are accepted all over Cambodia) a day covers a beachfront bungalow at the edge of a secluded cove reached only by boat; meals of crab, squid and barbecued fish are served to order at a bare-bones dockside restaurant.

IT is hard not to see a piece of haunting history like Bokor or the unspoiled islands off the coast of Sihanoukville and not want them to stay like that forever — for your eyes only.

But Cambodia has other needs, too. The average family makes the equivalent of only $2,100 a year, and development can put money in their pockets. On one of my last excursions I went to visit a resort that is attempting to serve the triple needs of tourists, locals and the land itself. Specifically, we headed to the Vine Retreat, a hotel and restaurant that opened a couple of years ago on a working pepper plantation close to Kep.

The owner, David Pred, found the plantation by Chamcar Bei village, now the site of the Vine, through his work with Bridges Across Borders, an organization that has, among other things, established a local school and health clinic.

Overlooking pepper fields, the property is lovely, with a few beautifully decorated rooms that cost less than $50 a night. After a meal of curry and fresh juice at the hotel’s organic restaurant, we visited the school, passing kids on bikes who called out to our toddler. Without the school, which opened its doors in 2007, Mr. Pred said, the children would be working on family farms.

Later, I spoke to him about the dual impulses of progress and preservation. “Aid groups alone are not going to be able to lift Cambodians out of poverty,” he said, “but I wanted to demonstrate that it is possible to do business here in a way that is profitable, and at the same time benefits the local community and leaves as faint a footprint as possible on the environment.”

With a little luck, projects like this that mix hospitality with community initiatives will flourish along this changing coastline and create alternatives to huge resorts.

I certainly hope to find him here when I come back. Having seen Koh Samui and other Southeast Asian islands before developers set in, I know what can be lost when a place is found.

GETTING THERE AND AROUND

The closest airports are Phnom Penh International Airport or Sihanoukville Airport. From there you can arrange private transfers to your hotel. One of the pleasures of the area is meandering between Kep, Kampot and Sihanoukville by motorbike or with a car and driver. Stop in at Bokor if you are interested in seeing a former colonial icon in a whole new incarnation.

Tuk-tuks, motorcycle rentals, and cars and drivers are easy to arrange for day tours.

WHERE TO STAY

In Kep, the new Villa Romonea is one of the showcases of the Le Corbusier-inspired Khmer architecture that still survives here. Six rooms look onto the Gulf of Kampot and the tropical grounds of a former estate, and helpful staff members arrange day trips and meals (855-1287-9486; villaromonea.com; doubles, $200; U.S. dollars are accepted in Cambodia).

Knai Bang Chatt put Kep on the map when it opened in 2006; the property comes with an excellent spa and restaurant (855-78-888-556; knaibangchatt.com; doubles from $225).

The Vine Retreat is a new project on a pepper plantation outside Kep with a guesthouse, organic farm and restaurant (85-11-706-231; thevineretreat.com; doubles from $25).

Song Saa, set on two islands, has brought luxury, with a sustainable emphasis, to the islands off Sihanoukville, with 27 villas over the water, on the beach or in the jungle (855-236-860-360; songsaa.com; doubles starting at $1,336, which includes meals, tours, water sports and more).

WHERE TO EAT

Kep and the surrounding area is home to some of the country’s best restaurants, with their proximity to the crab market and nearby pepper plantations. Try the crabs at spots like the Seagull set along the town’s waterfront by the market (855-236-860-360; entrees, $2 to $10) or at the Sailing Club, just past Knai Bang Chatt (855-78-888-556; entrees, $4 to $15). Breezes is a new restaurant where Kampot wild oysters are among the local specialties — the private tables on the beach should be booked in advance — and if you spend more than $25, the owner pays for the tuk-tuk ride home (Route 33 between Kep Beach and the ferry pier; 855-97-675-9072; entrees, $6 to $8).