Angkor and Siem Reap

I met up with the Montague Crew to tour the temples at Angkor: Connie and Walter, Tim and Helen. We arranged for two tuk-tuks to take us to the temples every morning for three days. Two brothers, Polin and Say Prackchim, were our drivers. Polin was solemn, well-spoken in English and very knowledgeable about the temples, serving as a part-time guide. Say Prackchim was the cheeky older one, very handsome with a smile that could melt ice. He didn't speak much English but was still very sociable and obviously the toast of the community.

I felt a little ill on the first morning - a result of my somewhat cavalier attitude to eating in South-East Asia. By day two, my birthday, I felt back to normal and was very blessed that is wasn't a barf-day instead of a birthday. At Neak Pean, an old woman had set up a shrine under the elephant fountain and I lit some incense and said a prayer for my year ahead. On day three, we rose very early for the sunrise over Angkor Wat, which is the most grand of all the thirty-something temples at Angkor. A little anticlimactic, it was a cloudy morning so we didn't get the classic golden orb over the spires of the temples. Nevertheless, the temples have a magical feeling about them; it is like the gods do actually live there. Pictures or words don't really do justice to the majesty and magnitude of the place.

On my birthday, I went to Psar Leu, the main market in Siem Reap, for a shopping extravaganza. But I wasn't buying for myself - my pack is suddenly much heavier with gifts for loved ones back home (that's you!). After a dip in the pool, the Montague Crew took me for Indian food and lovely wine. A lovely birthday altogether, but it passed very quickly. These days are passing very quickly...I guess that it what happens when you live a life of leisure.

I wasn't sad to leave Siem Reap because I'd had my fill of clambering through temples in the heat and dust. A bus trip followed...of course. I was the only non-Cambodian on the bus to Phnom Penh. I'm really travelling now, I thought. It was squat toilets and noodle soup for breakfast. I spoke with a Cambodian man who teaches at the university, "You are a woman traveling alone?" he asked, a bit shocked. Yup, it would appear so.

In Phnom Penh, I stepped off the bus to the usual scrum of moto and tuk-tuk drivers clamboring for work. It is amazing how quickly I'm becoming accustomed to dealing with the touts and hagglers. I was swindled into some seriously overpriced postcards by an adorable little girl during my first hours in "Scambodia," but now I feel totally calm, not taken aback by the constant attention. Being the only white person who stepped off the bus in Phnom Penh, the drivers' eyes widened, looking at me like pay-day had come. "Sorry, I'm taking another bus to Sihanoukville...it's a little far on the moto, huh?" It felt like an accomplishment to be able to joke with the people who, only days before, had made me feel a little uncomfortable.

Ï had the classic Cambodian bus trip to Sihanoukville: Cambodian karaoke music blaring in the background and the bus driver honking his horn incessantly and driving like a maniac. The rules of the road are very fluid here - the drivers overtake even when the oncoming traffic is very close. But at least the drivers aren't angry; everyone seems to be able to share the road, including cars, buses, lots of motos and bicycles.

I arrived in Sihanoukville around sunset on Sunday night and had my first moto ride down to the coast. The driver held my pack between his legs and I climbed on the back, holding on tight. Sailing down the hill with my hair blowing in the breeze and my scarf fluttering behind me, I felt glorious. I'm really traveling now, I thought. Sihanoukville is a beach town and its very busy right now because of Chinese New Year. I'm off to find a quiet corner of beach...and write some postcards. Lots of love to everyone back home.