Episode 8: Good Morning Cambodia, a podcast about Cambodia’s future Watch the teaser →
Episode 8: Good Morning Cambodia, a podcast about Cambodia’s future Watch the teaser →
The sea was calm as the boat crossed from the mainland. The water changed color as we neared the island, from green to a soft pale blue. Ahead, a wooden jetty stretched toward the shore like a single line drawn across the horizon.
When the ferry slowed, there was only the sound of water against the hull. A breeze carried the scent of salt and frangipani. On the jetty, a few staff waited, smiling quietly as we approached.
You step onto the deck and the air changes. The mainland falls away in memory. The island feels self-contained, almost untouched. The path leads to La Lune restaurant, open to the wind and sea. Cold drinks glisten on the table. A meal of crab, prawns, and coconut rice waits beneath wide white umbrellas. Everything feels unhurried.
It is the kind of welcome that tells you this place understands time differently.
Full Moon Island Retreat lies within the Koh Ampil archipelago of Koh Kong Province, a small cluster of islands brushed by the Gulf of Thailand. It was built by Lay Prohas and his wife, Pen Vokhanith, who dreamed of creating a retreat that would hold both peace and purpose.
Their idea was to keep the island’s wildness intact. Paths curve around trees instead of cutting through them. The villas sit low, shaped to the land. Every structure feels temporary, as if it could one day fade back into the forest.
The resort breathes. Light moves easily through open walls. The air carries sound across water and leaves. It feels less like a place that was built and more like one that grew into itself.
Villa Bopha rests on the near side of the island, close enough to hear the soft hum of the jetty yet hidden behind trees. It faces the sea directly. The beach curves in a small crescent of white sand, and the water is so near you can walk from the bed to the shore in under twenty seconds.
Tucked behind the villa, a deep stone bathtub waits in its own quiet alcove. The air there is still and cool. In the late afternoon, after the salt and warmth of the sea, you can sink into the water and listen to the wind in the trees. It is a simple pleasure, and it feels timeless.
Inside, the design speaks softly. The walls and beams are built from dark, polished wood that catches the light. Stone and linen add texture, the colors drawn from sand and sea. Everything feels deliberate yet natural, the kind of space made not to impress but to ease. Cushions sink beneath you, the air moves freely through open doors, and the villa seems to breathe with the tide.
Morning brings a golden wash of light that runs across the floor and pools at the foot of the bed. At midday, the sea turns silver beyond the terrace, the horizon blurring into sky. Even the air feels different here — cleaner, slower, touched by salt.
You wake early, before the sun breaks the line of the horizon. The stillness is absolute. Waves move with the smallest sound. Somewhere in the distance, a fishing boat drifts.
Service arrives as quietly as the tide. A tray of fruit and coffee appears outside the door exactly as requested. The villa feels alive with care, tended by unseen hands who seem to understand what you need before you do.
There is nothing to distract you. The sea, the light, the air. That is enough.
Days unfold slowly on Full Moon Island. There is no need for schedule or noise. The tide and the light decide the hours.
After breakfast, you might walk along the curve of the beach, where the sand is fine and pale underfoot. The water is warm and clear. Sometimes small fish gather in the shallows.
The island invites movement, but never insists. Kayaks rest on the beach, ready for those who want to paddle beyond the reef. The sea stays calm, broken only by the sound of the paddle dipping into the water. You drift past mangroves and the calls of unseen birds. When you stop paddling, silence settles again, and the island seems to hold its breath.
Snorkeling near the pier shows flashes of coral and small schools of fish. The colors are quiet, softened by filtered sunlight. You feel part of something steady, something that has always been here.
At the spa, the scent of lemongrass and coconut fills the air. The therapist works with slow patience, easing the knots left by travel and time. You feel your body settle back into its natural rhythm, your thoughts growing still. The sound of the sea drifts through the open walls, and the air feels lighter when you leave.
La Lune serves food that reflects both place and craft. The menu ranges from grilled steaks to handmade pastas, yet its heart remains with the sea. Crab and prawns caught nearby are served with herbs and citrus, their flavors bright and clean. Plates arrive with quiet precision, each one balanced and thoughtful. Meals stretch unhurried into the evening, the conversation soft and the sea’s rhythm steady in the background.
At night, the water glows faintly under the moon. The path lights are low, the stars unbroken. You walk barefoot to the terrace, hear the tide pulling at the sand, and feel the air move across your face.
On the last evening, guests gathered by the water with paper lanterns. The air was warm, the sea completely still. One by one, the lanterns lifted, rising into the dark sky, their reflections moving on the surface of the bay.
For a few minutes, the island was quiet. The sea, the wind, and the faint sound of laughter were the only things alive. The light drifted outward, each flame carried into the distance. It was a small act, but it felt timeless.
Later, there was a campfire. People talked softly, some danced, others watched the stars. The flames sent light across the sand and faces. It was the last night, though it felt like no one wanted to name it.
Full Moon Island Retreat is not a place of grand gestures. Its beauty is quieter, patient, and rooted in the land itself. Here, you do not arrive to be entertained. You arrive to slow down.
The island asks nothing of you. It gives you water that changes color each hour. It gives you air filled with salt and the sound of trees. It gives you a kind of silence that is rare and difficult to leave.
When you depart, the boat feels heavier in the water. You look back, and the island already seems smaller, half hidden by mist. What remains is not memory, but a sense — the rhythm of waves, the light on stone, the calm that lingers in the mind.
That is the quiet luxury of Full Moon Island.
Building G, Phnom Penh Center, Corner of Sihanouk Blvd (274) & Sothearos Blvd (3), Phnom Penh, Cambodia
Sharing modern, uplifting stories from Cambodia’s vibrant business and tourism scenes. Here’s a sneak peek — follow us so you don’t miss the first episode!
Sharing modern, uplifting stories from Cambodia’s vibrant business and tourism scenes. Here’s a sneak peek — follow us so you don’t miss the first episode!
