Days 1 through 3, Siem Reap

Back from my trip! I had to effectively cut it in half because my body was reacting very violently to my anti-malaria medication (doxycycline), leaving me unable to stomach any food/water for almost 4 days. A little food poisoning to blame too, I think. The extended hours of travelling down potholed roads didn't help the nausea either; I remember being so miserable that I bawled in bed for a good 10 minutes on Saturday. Nonetheless it was a pretty good experience, and certainly travelling solo will be the choice plan from now on.

Day 1 starts on 12 July, 3a.m. I have to check in by 4a.m., and so decide that waking up an hour earlier will leave sufficient time to pack the last-minute items like my toothbrush, toothpaste, spectacles, hairbrush and facial soap. Unfortunately, I forget all of them anyway.

Dad sends me to the airport, and within an hour I'm bundled into the airplane, headed for Cambodia. My first stop is to be Siem Reap, home to Angkor Wat.

I arrive at 7a.m. Cambodian time. The runway is lined by emerald padi fields, and other than the excited chatter of tourists, the area is tranquil. We step off onto the runway and walk into the tiny immigration hall.

Outside, my designated tuktuk driver picks me up, after first exchanging high-fives and hoots from the other drivers. This is to set the tone for the rest of the trip, largely because the Cambodians and Laotians are extremely friendly by nature, but perhaps also because I'm the only non-local, female Asian traveller. My skin tone sets me apart from the locals, earning me a lot of appraising stares; towards the end of the trip however, my tan means I blend in perfectly.

After checking into my guesthouse, I hop back into my tuktuk and zoom off to Angkor Wat (angkor meaning city, and wat meaning temple).

At 10 in the morning it is already crowded with tourists and hawkers. The former makes it impossible to get good photos, and the latter heckles you to death.

The ruins remind me of oysters

I wander around taking in the sights, when suddenly a Cambodian man appears in my periphery, parroting, "You from? You from?"

"Singapore," I smile, delighted at the Cambodian hospitality.

"Yes," he nods. "You here to see Angkor Wat, yes? Tour?"

"I'm just walking around, want to take some good pictures. You?"

He explains that he works in the mess of hawkers outside normally, and was in to take a stroll. Catching my attention drifting in the direction of a headless statue nearby, he says haltingly, "Yes, that one destroyed by soldiers in civil war."

He points at the wall behind me. "The holes, by bullets."


"Oh," I breathe out heavily, then looked at him oddly. "You don't sound outraged."

I doubt he understands me, but in any case he takes it as invitation to continue talking and pointing features out. Suddenly, the hospitality seems more a commercial exchange.

"Wait," I pull on his arm. "You're probably expecting money for this. How much? I have to warn you in advance I don't have a lot of money on me."

"Any amount," he answers, though he doesn't smile. (In fact, he never smiles the entire time he is with me.)

Since he's been rather informative so far, I decide I can spare some money on a guide, and we continue our little tour.

As it turns out, his repertoire of information and vocabulary is not that huge. When he points out a particular carving for a third time and I beat him to its name, he stares at me in amazement.

"Oh, heard about it somewhere," I shrug.

He doesn't cotton on.

After we wander around a bit more, he indicates that this is the end of his guided tour (possibly he finally realises there's nothing more he knows). With the full knowledge that my tuktuk driver earns $10 for a full day of chauffeuring, I pull out USD$5 and offer it to the guide.

"No, no," he shakes his head. "Too little."

I raise my eyebrows. "Too little? You brought me around for 15 minutes."

"Too little," he repeats. "$30."

To cut a long story short, I eventually pay him SGD$12, which is far more than I can afford and certainly far more than he deserves. The incident thereafter makes me extremely wary of locals who seem friendlier than situations demand.








The next stop is Angkor Thom, a name which translates directly to big city.

It turns out to be one of the more boring ruins, so I leave for Preah Khan in about 15 minutes.

Preah Khan is extremely photogenic and already, being away from Angkor Wat, the tourist crowd has dwindled -- you see barely 10 other people in the same ruin as you. The temple ruins looms out of the jungle foliage in the most amazing manner. Very easy to imagine the excitement the French must have felt when they rediscovered this.



I stop for lunch here -- the menu promises a tantalizing omelette and orange juice for USD4.50, but I'm disappointed to see an overly salted fried egg and a cup of syrup. Given the prices at which things are sold, I (still) refuse to believe the people there are as poor as they let on.

Also, I eventually learn that only a few standard dishes are value for money. When perusing a menu, the rule of thumb is:

1. Salad refers to a piece of lettuce and a few slices of tomato.
2. Potato means french fries.
3. Ordering noodles will get you instant noodles.

Points to keep in mind when paying USD2 per meal.









Then it is on to East Mebon and Pre Rup, two small temples that are not very outstanding besides the ones already seen. The afternoon heat is also getting to me, so I spend only enough time to capture a few good photos before heading back to town.











On the morning of day 2, I explore the town in search of a good eating house, and in doing so observe some of the strangest traffic scenarios I've ever seen. First a lady zooms by on her motorbike while carrying her own drip; flyer distributors weave between moving vehicles; people squeeze five to a motorbike; most frighteningly, it is common to see mothers cradle babies with one arm while steering a motorbike with the other.


Today's itinerary consists of a trip down to the Chong Kneas floating village and Phnom Krom, a temple on a hillock. Once again I hop into the tuktuk, and sit back to enjoy the 30-minute sojourn into the countryside.




Since I was young, my dad has always enthralled me with tales of his kampong childhood. I thus grew up with a very romanticised idea of what a village should look like; in the process of imagining it, I also unwittingly imbued it with modern standards of sanitation.

It is thus a huge culture shock for me to see people sitting, walking, cooking, playing and eating in the mud. At one point of time, a girl of about 6 stops in her tracks, lifts up her dress and pees in the middle of her road while her mother watches on. Little kids run naked in the fields. While I suppose on some level it is perfectly natural behaviour (all our social civilities and graces are very modern, human constructs anyway), a travel buddy I later point this out to says the shock value lies in how unhygienic it is.

Phnom Krom is the highest point for miles around; from its peak you can see right to the edges of the world. Padi fields stretch out in all four directions, with the only clear human structures as houses winding along Tonle river.

To enter the temple I have to pay off a bunch of monks, who come up to me one after another with various issues that require donations. In fact, if there is one thing that annoys me about this country, it's the way everyone asks you for money, usually taking advantage of your touristy ignorance to fleece you of a few extra dollars. Throughout the trip I was sorely tempted to shake someone and tell them to get a bit of dignity and go do some honest work.

Eventually I tell the monks very firmly that no, I cannot pay for their toilets, and no, I don't need blessings, and no, I jolly well don't want to pay the little old man sleeping in the hammock, but he springs awake when I try to get past and jabbers incessantly and rubs his thumb and index finger to make sure I get the point, and when my driver shrugs and takes out his wallet, I can't do anything but roll my eyes in annoyance and pay him for doing nothing either.


The temple ruin on Phnom Krom turns out to be nothing spectacular; it is the view that makes the climb.

Back at the base of the hillock, we head down the banks of the river for a bit.







Again, it's scenic in that is vastly different from anything that I'm used to. The brown of the mud and huts are vivid against the emerald of the padi fields -- but where I see colour and texture and photo composition, the locals experience hard labour and ache. Throughout the trip, I remain extremely conscious of this fact, and feel almost callous in enjoying the sights.

A sight I do not particularly enjoy however, is that of New Market. Contrary to its name, it is in actuality the oldest one in the Siem Reap area, and caters mainly to the locals -- no souvenirs to be found here.

Well-trodden bits of meat pattern the ground; the stench of raw seafood permeate the air; dubious puddles of fluid get into your shoes; flies dot the tables of produce; women stretch out beside their stalls, bare feet and hands in contact with the mess that will eventually be served at dining tables.

Ignorance really would be bliss, in this case.

Old Market and Center Market are the newer of the lot, though extremely generic in the goods they sell. I buy myself two oil paintings for my room, but other than that I think hardly anything else is worth the visit.

After the shopping, I head down to Ta Prohm. The original plan was to visit the National Museum, but the oil paintings had emptied my pockets for the day. With some good traveller's luck however, the ruins at Ta Prohm turn out to be one of the most impressive ones I have seen thus far, and can easily be considered one of the highlights of the trip for me.

Hen shielding 4 chicks from the rain!

While I'm in the temple a thunderstorm breaks overhead, and immediately everything becomes more magical. Other tourists rush to find shelter midst the rubble but I'm happy climbing around in the mud and puddles.

Day 3 I spend walking around Siem Reap -- the town is deceptively small, and you can get anywhere on foot in a reasonable amount of time. In fact, I manage to walk around town 3 times before dinner, amazing myself with my own navigational skills (which prior to this was a fair game for teasing for anyone who knows me).

On this very depressing day, I realise I have USD$70 that are ripped, which effectively makes them unusable in this country. Most annoying the locals won't accept them but have no qualms about palming them off onto you.

I spend a futile hour looking for banks/American tourists who are willing to exchange the notes with me. The former cannot do anything except send me on wild goose chases and the latter cannot be found. All in all, a day that makes me very apprehensive about those to come (USD$70 is a good 3 to 4 days worth of food and lodgings).