Koh Rong Sanloem

“Sometimes you will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory.” — Dr. Seuss

If you ever visit Cambodia, I highly recommend making your way to Koh Rong Sanloem, a small, lush island floating in the Gulf of Thailand like a forgotten dream. With no paved roads or cars, and only boats connecting the remote beaches and sleepy villages, it’s the perfect escape from the mainland rush. The island's northern tip, M’Pay Bay, is a charming fishing village painted in pastel colors and laughter. It’s a place where hammocks sway between palm trees, where the sea whispers through the mangroves, and where time seems to stretch itself into slow, golden hours.

Kiki and I had only been once before, but we fell in love with it instantly. We knew we had to share it with my family. This little slice of paradise wasn’t just a destination—it was an experience we needed to pass on.

Our journey began in true Southeast Asian fashion: with a night bus departing at 11 p.m. You don’t book a seat—you book half a bed. Kiki and I were lucky to be paired together, curled up with snacks and a downloaded movie as the fluorescent-lit cities blurred past us. Another tourist, less fortunate, had to share his bed with a stranger—an unspoken rite of passage in Cambodian travel. We managed a few hours of patchy sleep before arriving at Sihanoukville around 6 a.m., groggy but buzzing with excitement.

At the pier, with the salty morning air brushing our cheeks, we sipped coffee and watched the sky warm up with hints of pink and orange. By 8:30 a.m., we were boarding the speedboat, bobbing gently in the tide. The crossing was kind to us. I was especially relieved that my mother, who once got sick on a lake, fared just fine.

The moment we stepped off the boat onto the soft, powdery white sand of M’Pay Bay, it felt like the whole world exhaled. Turquoise water lapped at the shore, the colorful fishing boats rocked gently in the bay, and coconut trees arched gracefully toward the sea. We dragged our luggage down sandy paths to our hostel, already sweating under the tropical sun. The heat pressed thick, like a blanket you couldn’t take off—but the scenery made it worth every bead of sweat.

That first evening, we strolled along the beach barefoot and dined under a sky full of stars, our feet buried in sand and cocktail glasses sweating on the table. The air smelled of grilled seafood and lemongrass. It felt like a celebration.

The next day was our adventure day. We rented a local boat and set off for a complete circumnavigation of the island. We stopped at hidden coves and deserted beaches like Clearwater Bay, Lazy Beach, and Sunset Beach, each more breathtaking than the last. No piers meant each landing was an effort—bags hoisted above heads, toes slipping in wet sand, climbing up and down rickety ladders with laughter echoing in the wind. It was chaotic, sweaty, and hilarious.

We snorkeled in coral gardens alive with rainbow-colored fish, rode waves between stops, shared a few cold beers, and soaked in the kind of joy that only happens when time doesn't matter. Back at M’Pay Bay, we rinsed off the salt, changed clothes, and headed out for one last magical experience.

The moon was barely a sliver that night, and the sky glittered with stars. After dinner, we made our way, careful not to step on the dozens of tiny hermit crabs shuffling along the path, to a secluded beach where the water held a secret. Bioluminescent algae, invisible by day, came to life in the dark. Every splash, every movement sparked bright blue and green fireworks in the sea. We waded in slowly, whispering in awe, surrounded by light.

Our last day on the island was slower. We had breakfast at Seapony, a cozy café tucked among the palms, serving what I genuinely believe is the best breakfast in Cambodia. Everyone went for the massive breakfast burrito, and we sat with ocean views and nowhere else to be. We snorkeled a bit more, lingered in hammocks, and savored every second.

But all beautiful things come to an end. We caught the ferry back to Sihanoukville and the night bus back to Siem Reap, weary but full of memories, of sun, of family. My family visited an elephant sanctuary near the Kulen Mountains on their final day. We had our farewell dinner at Butterfly Pea, a hidden gem in a quiet town corner surrounded by lush plants and soft lighting. The restaurant building is one of the oldest buildings in Siem Reap, a traditional wooden Khmer house. They only serve traditional Khmer food in traditional ways. We often had to ask the waiter for help since we didn't know how to begin. It was the perfect closing note.

We waved them off the next morning as they left for the airport. And just like that, they were gone. I missed them immediately.

But there wasn't time to dwell.

We had a school to run!