Sow the wind, Siem Reap the whirlwind

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The bus driver puts pedal to the metal as we get closer to Ubon Ratchathani. One of the tyres to the right side of the bus has just blown, and maybe in accordance with his logic we have to go as fast as possible to reduce the time during which an accident could occur. Fine by me. So far the trip has been a pretty easy one, no delays in the morning, no hassles at the border. When we arrive at our destination, we get on a sawng thaew, and for the first time I'm really happy to be back in Thailand, for we are not at the mercy of greedy tuk tuk-mafiosi. We pay 20 baht each for the trip to the train station, same price as the locals.
We buy two train tickets to Surin, and while waiting around for the train to depart, we finally get to eat some great som tam with sticky rice again. That is one of the things I'll really miss about Thailand. The train takes about four hours, and by the time we arrive at Surin, dusk is already descending on town. Another day has passed just travelling.
We find a nice little guesthouse on the outskirts of town that is managed by a lovely old couple. The lady even takes care of the cooking, and eating her home-cooked food for dinner almost makes us feel like part of the family.

The following morning, we get on a minibus to the Cambodian border. All the other people on the bus seem to head to one of the casinos that are just on the other side of the border, as gambling is illegal in Thailand. We are the only foreigners, apparently the border crossing Chong Chom - O Smach is the least popular, coming from Thailand. Most foreigners take the scam bus from Bangkok directly to Siem Reap, going via Poipet. They buy the tickets on Khao San Rd, and more than often the bus 'breaks down' along the way, the journey ends up being a lot longer than quoted, and the tired and grumpy passengers are dropped off at an overpriced hotel outside of town in the middle of the night.

At Cambodian immigration the officials ask for $25 visa fee, but we insist on paying the $20 that we were quoted on the official Cambodian immigration website, and they do concede quickly. We get our visas and our stamps, while the touts already start flocking to us. There is absolutely no public transport from the border to Siem Reap, so we decide to wait around for a while to see if we can hitch a ride. Our patience wears thin rather quickly, however, so we begin the negotiations with a not-too-trustworthy-looking guy, as there's not such a wide range of affable characters around. We agree on horrific $20 per person, seeing that we're in a bit of a deadlock without much room for haggling. We load the luggage into the boot and leave. After 5 minutes there's a border police checkpoint, and we have to show our passports. The policeman looks at the visas and the stamps, and tells our driver to take us back to the border, apparently for some stamp or signature that was omitted. My alarm bells start ringing big time, and I suspect a scam, rip-off, rape, torture, murder. Back at the border we get the missing signature and are on our way again.

When our driver stops to fill up on petrol, he asks us to pay our fare, but naturally I refuse, seeing that he could just leave us in the middle of nowhere or steal our bags afterwards. He says he doesn't have money for petrol, which is too bad for him, I guess. He starts telling the situation to an older man at the petrol station, who then agrees to take over, pay for the petrol, and be our driver from now on. Maybe we were being a bit too harsh with the other guy, but I'd rather that than take an unnecessary risk.
Our new driver doesn't speak a word of English, and when at a crossroads, he takes a left turn, I check the map and wonder why we didn't go right, as it looks as though left would be a huge detour on a bad road. I try pointing it out to him on the map, but he doesn't quite get it, so he calls our first driver, who says that the left way is indeed better.

In the end, the road appears to have been just recently built, and we arrive in Siem Reap comfortably in under three hours. Of course we're not let off the hook so easily. Our driver stops on the outskirts of town, just next to a tuk tuk. He motions for us to hop on it, but I say no, for I sure as hell don't want to pay the additional ride on top of the very high price that we already have to pay. The tuk tuk driver opens the car door and tells us to go with him. Seeing that he speaks decent English, I explain that we agreed on being taken to the centre of town in this car by that driver, and that there's no reason to switch to a tuk tuk now. They talk in Khmer for a while, then he has the splendid idea of telling us that this particular car isn't allowed to enter Siem Reap, as it has a license plate from a different province, and that the driver would have to pay a hefty fine if stopped by police, which would inevitably happen. I say I don't believe him and he gets angry for a second, saying that he lives here and that he should know best. I tell him firmly to close the door so we can talk to our driver. I motion to the driver to call the other guy, which he does, but the latter says the same thing, and that we should take the tuk tuk, and not to worry, it's included in the price, and we only have to pay the old man.

After consulting with each other, we decide to go with it, as the situation doesn't lead anywhere otherwise. We get our bags, pay the driver, say our first 'aw kohn' (thank you) and get on the tuk tuk. I tell the driver to take us directly to Psar Chaa, the old market in the centre of town. To make sure he doesn't take us for a ride, I check on the map for the route we're taking. He asks which hotel we stay in, and I tell him we stay with a friend. He tells us he knows a very good hotel, and I repeat what I said before. He wants to know whether we intend to visit Angkor the following day, and I say no, maybe later. He says he can take us there and be our guide, all for a good price, of course. I say maybe, and he gives us his phone number. When we arrive at the market, he goes for the argumentum ad misericordiam, which is one of my favourites, the appeal to pity. He tells us how poor the country is, and how hard life as a tuk tuk driver and freelance guide is, and how tough competition in Siem Reap is. Seeing that he's young, quite well-dressed, well-fed, proficient in English, in full possession of his right mind and, most important in Cambodia, all of his limbs, I'm not sure what he wants us to do for him, so we say our thanks and that we'll give him a call if we go to Angkor.

I call Paul, our host in Siem Reap, and we decide on meeting at his place in a couple of hours. As we walk around with our luggage, inevitably we get lots of attention from the tuk tuk-drivers, but here they are quite different to the ones in Thailand and Laos. They wave and smile at you, ask if you want their services, you just smile and say no thank you, maybe later, and they still smile and you even get the occasional 'Welcome to Cambodia/Siem Reap'. Their cordiality comes across as a lot more genuine than that of their fake-smiling Thai counterparts, whose facial expression swiftly morphs into sneering sullenness upon refusal of their offers before they take to acrimoniously insulting you in Thai.

Unsurprisingly, there are many foreigners around, from the barefoot backpacking hippie to the suited-up luxury tourist couple to the French, Spanish, American, German, Japanese, Chinese massive tour groups walking around town with their Khmer guides. The whole central area seems to consist only of restaurants, bars, currency exchanges and travel agencies, but for some reason the atmosphere feels very different, in a positive sense, from chaotic Khao San Rd in barbarous Bangkok and from vulgar Vang Vieng.

Later on, we make our way to Paul's flat on the outskirts of town. He works in Siem Reap as a Peace Corps volunteer, teaching English at a local school. He opines that the town is 'ridiculously safe', and that one can walk around anywhere at all times of the day without having to worry. Our guidebook says "In the major cities, drive-by bag snatchings happen and are especially dangerous when you're riding a moto as you can fall and hit your head" before listing the elaborate and inventive local scams, which are probably more annoying and tiresome than dangerous, and apparently not enough to trouble our happy-go-lucky host. I'm more freaked out by his long, rubbery toes, which he constantly wriggles.

In the evening, we walk back to the centre to have a great dinner at one of the many hawker food stalls and have a beer at a bar afterwards.
The following morning, we rent a bicycle, meet a friend of Paul's, and together ride to a local volunteer project founded to benefit the lives of street children. We meet the founder of the project, a huge Australian lady, who is a veritable matriarch and undeniably the boss in this organization. Her gargantuan bosom heaves as we walk the short distance to a hammock in the shade, where she places herself, all red in the face and still panting from the workout. We gather around her like Polynesians worshipping an angry volcano, as she tells us the story of the project. There is a sports ground next to us where a group of children of all ages are busy practicing Khmer boxing, repeating the strikes and kicks and moves that their teacher, an incredibly ribbed and muscular young man, demonstrates. Another bunch of kids provide the music, sitting on the ground, playing traditional wind, string and percussion instruments. The drumming is very prevalent in their composition, and the constant rhythmic repetition gives the music a highly hypnotic quality. Together with the kids' executing their martial arts moves with intense concentration and seriousness, the whole scene feels incredibly surreal.

The lady tells us that most of the children come from dysfunctional or abusive families, and that they were sent out to beg from tourists. They were dirty, haggard and malnourished, and now, living at the project headquarters, they are fed and have access to showers, toilets and running water. A school was built, teachers were hired, and subsequently the kids started getting educated. The project is entirely funded by donations, and the 60-odd kids who are fortunate enough to live there all appear to be healthy, bright and happy. One of them just recently was able to go to university, after living in the project for five years.

One thing we are told comes as quite a shock to me, though it's not entirely unexpected: apparently it is quite common for some of the Western benefactors of Cambodian children to pay the country a visit every now and then. Let's say a typical representative of that particular group was a white male from a Western country, already a bit past middle-aged and wealthy. This man might visit the child he sponsors and its family, and sooner or later take the kid with him into his hotel room for a few hours or overnight. The family either has to grin and bear it, or refuse and risk losing an important source of income. Really, it's only a few hours maybe 2-3 times a year, what can possibly happen? At least they can live relatively well throughout the whole year with the help of this farang with his idiosyncratic desires.
To avoid this or similar incidences happening, the project has very strict guidelines for volunteers and visitors, which includes the prohibition of interaction with the children outside of headquarters, apart from greetings in the event they meet by chance.

I ask the Australian about the safety of Siem Reap, and she confirms that there have been three bag-snatchings this week alone, with a French girl being killed after two thieves on a moto dragged her onto the road, where she was run over. Upon hearing this, Paul looks a bit taken aback and remains speechless for a while.

The time has finally come for us to go and visit Angkor the next morning. On our hired bikes we ride towards the entrance as the sun rises. There is a general consensus on where to go at what times, e.g. Angkor Wat is apparently best at sunrise, whereas the Bayon, with the famous smiling faces of Avalokiteshvara, makes for great pictures when illuminated in gentle late-afternoon light. We're not too fussed about those details, so we decide on just doing the 25km loop around the most well-known temples to get an idea of the place.

Our first stop is Angkor Wat, the heart and soul of Cambodia, epicentre of Khmer culture, and the largest religious structure in the world. The temple was built in the early 12th century, and it has been in continuous use ever since. I am baffled at the sheer number of people in the area in front of the temple. There are tourists, tuk tuk-drivers, tour guides, barefoot kids selling souvenirs and trinkets, food sellers, touts, backstabbers, and an accumulation of random anthropomorphic flotsam and jetsam, who don't know where they are, and no longer care. It's a big circus out there, and we take refuge inside the temple, while most visitors are busy taking pictures outside.

It doesn't take long for our senses to overload with the breathtaking craftsmanship on display. The carvings of goddesses and demons and the bas-reliefs are so intricate, the architecture is so jaw-droppingly magnificent and sublime at the same time that we are at a loss for words. One can only marvel at the sheer logistics involved in the construction of a structure of such magnitude almost 900 years ago.
Via little-visited, but beautiful Prasat Kravan, remarkable for its huge bas relief-depictions of Vishnu and Lakshmi, we ride to Srah Srang, a baray, or reservoir, where we get a nice vista of the area. We wait for an Indian family to descend the stairs that lead to the edge of the baray, and I'm delighted to hear their very special English: "Be very careful-ah".

Vis-à-vis sits Banteay Kdei, which is like a smaller version of famous Ta Prohm. There are few people around inside the temple, and we take our time exploring. Noon is approaching, and the temperature has risen to over 30°C. I'm drenched in sweat, which, in combination with the ubiquitous dust, has given me a nicely caked base layer of dirt.
Before entering Ta Prohm, we want to have lunch, which shouldn't be too hard, as the ladies operating the food stalls literally grab you and drag you to their eatery. The trick is not to get ripped off too badly, so we haggle for a better price, as the ones quoted in the menus are just preposterous. While our food is prepared, a young girl approaches us with her small selection of trinkets. She asks where I'm from, and I tell her to guess. "USA. England. Russia. France. Germany. Yes, Germany? Ah, Berlin! Not Berlin? But Berlin capital." I ask her whether she knows the capitals of Australia, China, Japan, Argentina, Canada. She's good. I decide to be a bit mean and ask for the ones of Azerbaijan, Samoa, Ethiopia, Jamaica, Paraguay, which, of course, she doesn't know. When our food arrives I tell her to let us eat now, please, and go hassle those Japanese people that just got out of that big bus over there.

Ta Prohm is probably the most well-known and iconic temple for Westerners, and one of the reasons is that it featured prominently in Tomb Raider alongside Angelina Jolie's equally imposing tits. The other reason might be that it's a simply stunning display of nature triumphing over man-made structures and the trees reclaiming what's rightfully theirs. The massive trees growing out of the ruins are the most distinctive feature of Ta Prohm, and make for some of the most sought-after pictures. When I see the many photographs with their expensive equipment, I curse myself, once again, for not having a functioning DSLR with me. Which brings me once more to the same old questions that keep popping up in my head: Is it really necessary to take the best pictures possible? Do I have to take pictures at all? Isn't it better just to look and enjoy, instead of shooting away all the time? Still haven't managed to properly evaluate all the pros and cons in this matter...

We get back to our bikes only to discover that my back tyre has a puncture. I can't recall riding over anything that could have caused it, but I shrug it off and we just ride on. When a tuk tuk overtakes us from behind, and the driver tells me that my tyre is flat, and that he knows a place where they repair bikes, and that he can take us, all for a good price, of course, I get a bit suspicious. Do they really puncture the tyres of tourist bikes so they can make a profit? That's a tad fucked up, innit?

Next stop is Angkor Thom, which we enter through the impressive Victory Gate, in front of which spans a causeway with a row of devas, or deities, to the left, and a row of asuras, or demons, to the right, each holding a naga in an apparent tug-of-war.
After making it to the entrance of the Bayon, we agree that this will be the last temple we visit today, as we are both too exhausted from the ride and the sun and the whole kerfuffle around us.
The Bayon consists of 54 towers that are decorated with a total of 216 coldly smiling faces of Avalokiteshvara, a Buddhist bodhisattva of compassion, which bear a striking resemblance to Cambodia's legendary King Jayavarman VII, under whose rule the Bayon was built as his official state temple.
It feels incredibly unreal to lay eyes on something that you have seen so many times before, just in pictures, and we take in the experience, ignoring the masses climbing about the temple.

I'm glad when we are on our way back to Paul's place, as I'm in desperate need of a shower and a decent dinner. We return the bikes without mentioning the puncture, and although they don't inspect the bike, we power-walk away, just in case. Riding 15km just on the rim is no mean feat, I'd say.

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