The Utopia story
Trip Start
Oct 18, 2005
1
16
Trip End
Ongoing
Sihanoukville, Cambodia
Sunday, August 6, 2006
The long version:
Mark, the guy from New Zealand who owned Utopia, and his girlfriend, Young Ju, bought the land last year from a Cambodian and began construction in September 2005. Foreigners cannot own land in Cambodia; they either have to lease the land from a Cambodian or have a Cambodian partner who owns at least 51% of the land. Mark did not have an legal deed on the land although he did own the land (if that makes any sense). There was talk of the land being cleared to build a big Thailand-esque resort, but nothing was confired so he decided to go ahead and build. His intention was to build a restaurant and bar with a living area upstairs for him and piece out the rest of the land behind the main building to friends so they could build houses or other small businesses, as well as building a few bungalows for travelers to stay in.
The two-story building was finished in December 2005, just in time for the beginning of high season. Utopia was one of the last in a long line of businesses along the beach, most Cambodian owned, many offering free accommodation to travelers in small huts just off the beach. The beach is really clean with turquoise water and white sand, and was always littered with fruit kids, the odd cow or crazy Italian guy on a bicycle, and our favorite, spring roll lady. There was a sand/dirt road leading to the end of the beach taht was good fun on a dirtbike (and the reason why I now sport a scar on my left knee).
I started at Utopia in early January, intending to work for a month, but staying for six. In 6 months, we had about 30 different staff members, both locals and foreigners, most being travelers who were looking for an excuse to stay in Sihanoukville a bit longer. Because of our location at the end of the beach, we became the party bar in town and threw legendary parties that went until dawn with free food, fire shows, and $3 buckets of whiskey. The place worked so well because Mark gave us free reign to do what we wanted as long as we made a bit of money, and we had a great group of people who had a good time and really wanted to see the place work. Jasper, Laura and Shawn had all worked at Mark's other bar down the beach, Eden, and knew how to run a bar in Sihanoukville. James and Mark are engineers and Kiwis so they can build and fix absolutely anything. As for me, well, I'll organize and plan anything, as long as I get to make a few lists, and I make really good popcorn. We had reliable Cambodian staff who could make the tastiest tuna-cheese baguettes and pretty much kept the place (and us) afloat.
There was always a possibility that we'd be kicked off the land if the government wanted it cleared. The odd rumour would circulate but nothing ever materialized so we kept going. In early June, Mark and the other business owners along the beach got an eviction notice, saying that the land had been sold to a Vietnamese oil company, Sokimex, and everyone had to clear out. The business owners formed a small coalition to appeal the decision. Everyone was optimistic that we could buy more time and keep operating but this is Cambodia and the pay outs from foreign investors count more than a bunch of people trying to save a row of beach huts.
On Saturday, June 17, Shawn, Sutoko and I were getting ready for our usual Saturday party, when Wing, who owns a restaurant down the beach, shows up and tells us that the military is coming on Tuesday morning with bulldozers to clear the land. We tossed around a few jokes about the allmighty Cambodian military with their too-big Khmer Rouge army boots, sloopily carrying their polished AK-47s. Wing's news seemed a bit farfetched but we had to plan for the worse so we called Mark, Young-Ju and James, who had gone up to Phnom Penh for a few days, and got what was left of "the family" together for the final shakedown. Cooper, Hugh, Shawn, Sutoko, Mel, Toby, Isabelle, Shiran and I danced on the bar to Fatboy, spun fire, and had some beers with the moto divers. The boys skim boarded behind motorbikes at sunrise then Shawn made us all eggs benedict and we toasted the glory days with a few cold Anchor beers before trudging home to crash. I sat on the bar and watched the morning roll in over the calm water and cried on Shiran's shoulder. A great final night, will never forget that one.
Mark got back from Phnom Penh that night and we still didn't know if the Tuesday rumour that Wing had told us was true or not. To be on the safe side, Mark wanted to clear all of the valuable items (stereo equipment, computer, TVs, stock, furniture), so we got a flatbed truck and worked all night clearing as much as we could. I went to bed on Monday night thinking there was no way the bulldozer rumour was true and expecting us to be back to business-as-usual by the end of the week.
Tuesday morning, Shiran and I are having some eggs at Eden when Mark, James and Shawn show up saying that they are clearing the beach. They were moving slowly along the beach so he figured we'd be given one day of reprieve. Mark wanted to disassemble as much of the building as he could as wood especially in Cambodia is really expensive (short supply due to years of no replanting). We all hop on the bikes and head down the beach to Utopia. Mark had warned us that a lot of people were realy upset but I had no idea it would be so bad. People were sorting through what was left of their belongings after the military bulldozed their homes. I guess the operation went a bit faster than expected because by the time we got to Utopia, the military was about 10 meters away. We frantically tried to get as much of the lighting, plumbing, wood and wiring as we could out of the warpath then watched as they bulldozed it all. The fruit and bracelet kids were all helping out too which was kind of cool. It didn't go down easily - Laura said it right: those kiwi boys certainly can build.
The military and their pet bulldozer left and we're standing there trying to figure out what to do next. It's a swelteringly hot day and Mark goes in search of the last eskie and some water for his parched and homeless staff. Low and behold, he finds an ice-cold bottle of Jagermeister that we had stashed in there on Saturday night. All hope was not lost. We passed around the bottle and Mark thanked us all for making the place what it was and we all agreed that we'd have to reopen in a different location. We talked about a few of the great times although it seemed a bit surreal considering what had just happened. We arranged for a flatbed truck, hooked up the generator and started to go through the wreckage to see what we could salvage. Looters had already started to sift through what was left of the other places so we didn't have much time to clear away anything of value. We worked all night.
What was most devastating about Bulldozer Day is that this was a decision by the government to clear people out of their homes and leave them with nothing. I remember when they were building Crowbush golf course in PEI and how that one homeowner was insistent on keeping his land. He was offered heaps of money but wouldn't budge. It was a huge newstory on PEI and caused a lot of contraversy. This situation here involved about 50 Cambodians and they got nothing. There was a small article in the Cambodian Daily a few days later but that's about it. Utopia was lost but we're foreigners and it was borrowed land. It sucks, money was lost but it will be re-built. The Cambodians who lived there for years likely won't be able to re-build their homes and open another business. And that, I discovered, is why Cambodians have no faith in their government and don't respect it's laws.
