Happy Birthday

Sihanoukville is a bustling city with a stretch of beach dedicated to tourists and a large business center for everyone else. James and I share a desire and need to avoid the Spring-Breaky, cheap booze guzzling and drunken backpackery types, so off we went to an area called Otres Beach, about 10 minutes by tuk-tuk out of town. We had chosen "Cindarellas Bungalows" upon several positive internet recommendations, and we were definitely not disappointed. For I think ~$8, we got a "boathouse" - a hut built up on a hull of a small boat that only had room for a comfy queen bed, a mosquito net hanging above it, and small table with a gloriously welcome fan. A 2.5 foot "porch" looked out onto the water, and down a small ladder we stepped onto beach sand. Fan-freaking-tastic.

"Boathouse" on Otres Beach

Being in a shoulder season, we were the only guests, but down the beach there were a few other very casual beachside restaurants and guesthouses with like-minded travellers. We had an awesome dinner and popped into the Gulf of Thailand outside our "bedroom door" for some warm nightswimming and star gazing. We couldn't be bothered with suits. :-)

Now that I was feeling better, I hoped James would take advantage of our romantic setting. Back in PP, we had gotten off to a promising start of getting to know each other in such a fashion. The humidity left us pretty sticky though, and it had been a long day........I guess......

The dawn brought my birthday! 33! Whoohoo! I was all smiles of course, and on Cloud 9 with our little private beach. James must have forgotten, though I had mentioned it a few times previously. He was anxious to get into town to sort out his visa for Vietnam; he didn't say anything.

We buzzed around on the moto running our errands. He easily obtained his visa - when filling out his application he asked the date. M-A-R-C-H  F-I-F-T-E-E-N-T-H  I said. Nothing. At this point I began wondering how long I should let this go on...If I let it go all day, I knew I'd be in an awful mood. When we'd gotten all of our (his) chores out of the way, we decided on a bit of pampering and stopped at a spa for a massage. When perusing the "menu" of services the lady asked if we wanted this or that. "Well, it is my birthday afterall" I said...to which she replied "Oohhhhh, Happy Birthday!" James just said, "thereya go." We splurged on 1 hour full body deep tissue and 30 minute foot massages; I quite enjoyed mine...comparable to a good massage in the states. The bill for us BOTH? $27. James got it...for my birthday.

A bit earlier we decided I should get some moto practice in. It'd been years since my motorcycle safety course back home. I buzzed around briefly on my own, then James hopped on the back...but not side saddle though :-) My shifting was a bit shaky at first, but I got the hang of it. I did several quick trips...oh the looks we were getting with James on the rear! Out on the open road on the way back to Otres I was having a blast. The black top turned to dirt/sand but it was packed down so it was OK, though terribly bumpy with lots of holes and mounds to avoid. A bit before our guesthouse there was a detour in the road - it went down a steep hill, around a sandy bit, and up the same hill on the other side. It had given James trouble the first few times he'd done it. He asked if I wanted to try. "Sure." "OK, I'm going to walk, though." he replied.

I turned the throttle, and between the lack of weight I'd gotten used to on the back, and the mound of sand my back tire was on, the bike skidded out of the side and toppled over, pinning my left side down. I'm sure only seconds passed. I realized my right leg was hurting, so I picked it up. Still confused, I let it down again. Finally my always sarcastic and snooty inner voice said, "Jennifer, taking your damn hand off the throttle." I put my right hand into the air, and James helped to right the bike. I hopped off and looked down at my right leg. "Holy shit." ...... Literally.

There were two obvious injuries, both the size of a lemon. The lower one appeared to be a patch of missing skin, perhaps from the spinning tire. It wasn't bleeding at all - bad sign - it meant SEVERAL layers were missing. The upper one had already blistered up - obviously an exhaust pipe burn, and a bad one...perhaps 2nd degree. I didn't really feel it till it was over, and at most the whole incident took 30 seconds. James rode the bike through the detour and I hopped back on the back to get home.

I'm good at crises - in fact I take pride in how good I am in crisis situations. I cleaned the wounds, though it was extremely painful. I decided to take a swim in the ocean - salt water is often therapeutic. I asked for a head start though, so I could whimper in peace.

After our dip I emphatically declared that I would need to drive the moto again that night, if only just a few meters. I'm a firm believer in the 'get back on the horse' mentality, and I wasn't going to let this incident change that. And, for goodness sakes, it was my freakin Birthday, so I wanted a fun dinner. We went back to the same restaurant from the night before as their red curry was divine. After it was dark, one of the staff came and asked us to bring our moto inside where it'd be safer. As I'd driven it there, and not wanting to feel useless, I said I'd do it when James asked.

I started limping out, along a dark path. Then, all of a sudden, there was an angry growl, a burst of black fur, and a sharp shooting pain through my right leg. Yep. A black dog on an unlit path bit my already severely injured leg when I accidentally shuffled onto its foot. I was wearing loose pants, so thankfully its teeth didn't come into contact with my skin. But it gave me a solid chomp. I let out a howl and hopped around. All the staff rushed over and helped me to a chair, horrified at what had happened. Another guest offered medical assistance as a trained first responder. James must not have heard the ruckus. I asked for some ice - the 4 punctures (is it considered a puncture when the skin isn't completely broken?) were already swelling and bruising. When they saw the other side of my calf, though, they flipped. One girl ran to get a stalk of fresh aloe for me and the rest just made a lot of 'ooohhh', 'oowwww', and 'ssssorrryyy' gestures. I had to chuckle though - 2 people pulled up their pant legs to show me their own egg-shaped moto scars.

Ouwies: Day 0

After what seemed like forever, James came over and saw everyone gathered around me.
Me: "I am DONE with today.
Him: "What happened?"
Me: "I got bit by a dog."
Him: "WHAT?!!?"
Me: "Ya, can we go home now?"

Back at our hut, I took more anti-inflammatories and poured some moonshine (another story) on my new wounds. The moto ones didn't seem *that* bad. The lower tire one was several layers of skin missing - I mean noticeably gone compared to the rest of the skin around it. The upper burn one had blistered and was just really really red.

Happy Birthday to me.