Siem Reap, Cambodia - More than just Temples

A flat landscape of green fields and water logged floodplains could be seen out of the window as we descended into Siem Reap. Occasionally we'd catch a glimpse of a settlement, but by and large the vista outside was one of countryside. The aircraft made a smooth landing and we taxied to the terminal. The airport was modern and highly efficient. Passport and visa control went smoothly and we were soon on our way into town.

“Siem Reap’s a boom town. It's like the gold rush towns of the American Midwest,” I said as Angela and I headed into town. Construction was going on everywhere. This was not the sleepy backwater we were expecting, all dirt roads and shacks. No. this was a thriving modern town in the grip of tourist fever. The Japanese had funded the roads, the Germans had helped restore the temples, and all around was the unmistakable scent of a dollar to be made.

That evening, while Angela went for a massage, I got talking to an American called Chuck. He was sitting at the bar just along from me. Chuck, a wiry, fifty-something ex-pat from Texas, had travelled the world on his motorbike. I asked him how long he'd been in Siem Reap.

“Oh, now there's a question, boy,” he answered, his thick Texan drawl curling every word. “I guess it’s been eighteen months now.” Chuck seemed to ponder this a short while. “Hell, that's a long time; it's about time I packed up and moved on. Don't wanna grow roots now.”

I asked him where he’d lived before coming to Cambodia. He took a sip of wine before answering. “Let's see. I worked in Kuwait for a couple of years, and Saudi before that. Now that's a place to avoid. Nothin' but sand. But I made a helluva lot of cash there. That kept me goin' for a while. And then I lived in Belgium. Had me a nice woman who lived in Denmark, so stayed there a while too. But itchy feet brought me to this part of the world. In fact, I own a company out here. We build swimming pools. I make enough so I can ride my bike whenever I want, except when I pull stupid stunts.” He guffawed before taking a gulp of wine. “A few months back I decided to hold the front wheel off the ground, all the way down this here main street. So see how far I could. Anyhow, I came off and broke me my collar bone. I ended up in Bangkok for a titanium plate. Maybe it’s time I grew up.”

We talked about places we'd been, and places we'd love to go to in future. I mentioned the Philippines as a possible destination. Chuck immediately nodded. “I love that country. Been there many times. The Filipino's are, how can I put it...very accommodating!” While I ordered another beer, he elaborated. “Look, I'm not married, don't want to be. So When I go to places like Bangkok or Manila, I become a sex tourist. There's no shame in that.”

After Chuck's revelations about his ideal holiday requirement our conversation drifted into less controversial topics. “I just bought a silk tie,” I told him, “from the night market down the road. I paid three dollars. Was that a bargain or have I been ripped off?”

Chuck laughed. “Well let's put it this way. When I worked in the corporate world, I'd think nothing of paying ninety dollars for a silk tie. You paid three, so it’s all relative. If you think you got a bargain, you did, end of story.” When it was time to leave, I shook Chuck's hand. He was obviously an intelligent man and I was glad I'd met him. He was witty, charming and above all else real. I wandered across the road to meet Angela.

The next day was our big sightseeing extravaganza. Our guide picked us and we headed north to the thousand-year-old Angkor Wat temple complex, the main reason tourists flock to Siem Reap. Our first stop was Angkor Thom, a massive Buddhist temple that in ancient times was surrounded by a crocodile infested moat. Unfortunately there was no evidence of the reptiles now.

“This temple,” explained our guide, a young man in his twenties called Nonin, “has four gateways. And its name means Great City.” We followed him into the amazingly well kept ruins. All around people jostled for position on the sandstone blocks that formed the entrance, the majority of them from Japan, Korea or China. Nonin squeezed between two guides and turned to face us. “These bas-reliefs,” he said, pointing at the intricate engravings on the wall, “tell story of battles between ancient king and demon.” Nodding respectfully, we eyed the patterns, noticing pictures we’d have otherwise missed had we not been with a guide. We moved on to another section, and again, Nonin gave us a detailed description of every detail. My mind started to wander, I couldn't help it, and as we stopped at the third, fourth and fifth section of wall, I was bored. Even the descriptions of great feasting and visions of hell, or people being eaten by crocodiles couldn’t maintain my interest.

“Okay, now we go to the most famous temple, Angkor Wat,” Nonin said. “And it is the biggest religious monument ever built.” We got back in the car briefly and then got out, straight into the stifling heat. Since we'd arrived in Cambodia the weather had been hot and humid, with none of the rain we'd experienced in Vietnam. Just wandering about in the heat was a real effort. Without our bottles of water, we'd have soon been dehydrated.

Nonin led us across a wide bridge that spanned a glorious lake. On a nearby wall sat a saffron-robed monk speaking into his Nokia handset. At the far end stood the walls of the iconic temple, the unmistakable towers of Angkor Wat rising above them majestically.

As we passed through the walled gateway, the sight of Angkor Wat was quite incredible. Perhaps not as awe-inspiring as seeing the Taj Mahal for the first time, but fantastic nonetheless. I was a little disheartened to see some scaffolding on one of the main towers, but apart from that, it was truly majestic, sprouting up from what seemed like jungle.

Our guide led us to a small lily pond. A small market was situated nearby and local children tried to sell us postcards or bottles of water. We headed for the temple with the chirping call of tropical insects trumpeting our every step.

“Okay, this bas relief is on three levels,” said Nonin. Angela looked interested but I was too dismayed at the amount of carvings on offer. And the very fact I was bored upset me too. Here I was, at one of the prime wonders of the world and I couldn't even bring myself to enjoy the vivid descriptions behind its history. I was like a little boy being made to read in his bedroom when there was all sorts of fun to had outside. With a real effort, I tuned back into Nonin's voice. “The top layer shows heaven, the middle layer depicts normal everyday life, and the bottom layer shows Hell. Look at this man here.” We both looked towards where Nonin was pointing. The engraving depicted a man being stabbed in the eye with a red hot poker. A nearby carving showed a woman being tortured by having six-inch nails stuck into every each of her body.

“Monkeys!” I announced. “Over there! Look!” Our guide paused in his monologue and looked over to where I was pointing. Possibly sensing my unrest, he decided to cut short his lesson on ancient history and instead led us to the animals.

They monkeys were great. There was a whole troop of the small creatures, much to the delight of a family of Japanese tourists who'd also spotted them. One little boy giggled as a monkey stole some candy from him. The tiny monkey ran on all fours until it stopped only a short distance from where we stood. Cool as a cucumber, the thieving primate started to lick and chew its new treat.

Finally we reached the central part of the temple. We couldn't climb to the very top though because tape had been wrapped around the steps. A nearby sign written in large red letters read: No Entry! “This is because many tourists climb steps but fall down. Steps very dangerous, too narrow.”

For lunch we were taken to a nearby cafe. Every person in there was either white or oriental-looking. Just beyond the boundary of the cafe were the street children selling bangles and postcards. We bought some of each, getting a thank you each time we handed over our dollars. Soon other children began to materialise. “What about me!” they wailed. “What about me? I very hungry! Please give dollar!”

That afternoon we drove to a floating village, about thirty minutes south of Siem Reap. Along the way we passed a hospital with an ominous sign reading: Severe Epidemic of Dengue Fever. By the time we reached the outskirts of town, modern hotels had been replaced with wooden dwellings. Nonin told us that these houses belonged to rich people because they had electricity. Five minutes later they in turn made way for tiny shacks with corrugated metal roofs. Virtually every one had a stall out the front selling fruit and vegetables. Children frolicked in doorways; dogs lounged in the shade and people slept on hammocks. Every now and again we passed a busy workshop filled with men fixing ancient machinery. Nothing was wasted here. If it had once worked, then it would again

We soon arrived at the floating village. The raised road we parked on bisected a large river. On both edges were the floating houses, built on wooden stilts. “We take boat now,” said Nonin. “You will see the homes of poor people. There are also floating schools, churches, and even a floating supermarket.” We walked along a small wooden jetty and boarded our vessel. Naked children jumped from tiny makeshift piers and elsewhere fisherman brought in the nets from their daily catch

“I can't believe we're here,” said Angela as we passed by the floating school filled with blue-uniformed children. And neither could I. Everywhere we looked something interesting was going on. A woman swinging her baby to sleep in a hammock to our right. A boy rowing about in a small metal tub to our left. And though these people were impossibly poor by our western standards, they all seemed genuinely happy.

We pulled up alongside a jetty and climbed out. Within seconds we were accosted by four small children who had just swum over from a nearby shack. Three of them held creatures out for us to handle in the hope we'd give them a dollar. The fourth child, the youngest, had nothing except an inquisitive look about him. Angela held a baby crocodile while I opted to have a large snake draped across my shoulders. A third child, a girl of about six, had a large toad tied to a piece of string. She held it out for me to touch. “No thanks,” I said, but gave her a dollar anyway. Just as we turned to walk away, the fourth child cried out. “What about me! Give dollar! Please!” He then started to cry and whether real or fake it had the desired effect, we gave him a dollar and they all went away happy.

Catfish swarmed over each other in one large container. But there were other creatures on display too. “Come,” said the guide. “I show you the crocodiles.” We followed Nonin to a large enclosure surrounded by a high fence. Down below in a pit filled with shallow water were a dozen or so large crocodiles. They hardly moved except to yawn or to waddle to a sunnier spot. I asked where the creatures had come from.

“They come from the south. Farmers catch young crocodile and sell it to farm here. Then it grow big. Crocodile used for meat and its skin for shoes and bags.”

When we got back in the boat I couldn't help but notice the driver's foot. His big toe had a bandage around it, and some of his other toes had angry red welts. The pedal used to accelerate the boat was a bit of rusty metal. If the young man was in pain, he didn't show it. He maneuvered the boat into its parking spot and we disembarked.

As soon as we arrived back at the hotel the rains which had been promised for much of the day began in earnest. Suddenly the bone dry roads became an orangey-brown river depositing sediment everywhere. That night, wandering in search of an eatery, we often had to choose whether to wade through deep dark puddles or else walk around then and risk being run over. Paths were not really an option due to the cars and motorbikes parked on them. We finished the night in a restaurant owned by a Frenchman. Our time in Siem Reap was almost over, and it had been a fantastic time.

Strengths:
-Friendly people - they always have a smile for you
-Angkor Wat - a must see sight
-Floating village
-Cheap food and beer
-All amenities available (ATM's, internet etc)
-Modern airport

Weaknesses:
-If it rains, the roads will get flooded
-Some glitzy looking hotels like Las Vegas
-Not much to see in the actual town itself

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Part of trip: South East Asia

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