Siem Reap, Cambodia, in March 2003, is a steaming cauldron with additional humidity thrown in to make sure you really know you are here. Summer has started a little early and I can only hope that it cools off enough before the punters arrive.
Came here via Bangkok, where a quick change of plane was made. Siem Reap Air had a nice ATR, full of tourists from all over the place and two exceedingly sweet Thai girls beered and watered us and even gave a snack box all in 45 mins and didn’t miss a beat. My seatmate, part of an Amurrican group, sat open mouthed at what we do, as she was not quite up to our financial level shall we say.
On arrival in Siem Reap, the obligatory huge bunch of flowers was presented and the palms pressed together many times, as there were several people there whom I knew – SO good to be back. Glad to see that the visa-on-arrival process still manages to employ eight heavily uniformed persons, the women in full plastered make up and cap badges pushed steeply up, a la Russe, with probably many others behind the scenes, busily transferring all the info from one piece of paper to another. I progress out of the terminal carrying my bouquet as if I am always carrying a lot of flower heads impaled on tiny slivers of bamboo. Yes, the hope of this bunch being put in water and adorning my room, is ZERO.
At the wonderfully organised Grand Hotel d’Angkor, one of my top watering holes, everyone came out and the grins were wide – even the waiters in the distance were smiling and waving. A hotel built by the French at the height of their colonial days and which had hosted everybody who was anybody, when Cambodia was virtually unknown to the rest of the world. During the Cambodian civil war, it had come close to collapse and the first time I saw it, in 1993, it was a blackened shell, sans both roof and windows. The saddest of sights, but fortunately Raffles in Singapore, could see the future and plowed a vast amount of money in and returned it to its full glory. It has been almost two years since I was here, which certainly went fast and it appears, I am not forgotten. My usual room, within easy walking distance of the lobby (v useful when u realize 30 seconds before going off on tour that you have forgotten something) – some of the rooms are a hike. I do not mind having a pleasant view of the staff bike shed.
Nice walk around the little town of Siem Reap next day … growing more and more as they are expecting no less than one million tourists this year. Hotels sprouting up all along the road from the airport. The local market is a joy… well to me, but perhaps not to all. The meat section would convince any vegetarian of the rightness of their choice – the pork is fresh though and the head of the late pig was tastefully displayed, with its curly tail inserted through its nostrils!! Not something you see in the High Street butchers of the world perhaps. Big leaf-lined baskets of precooked noodles, attractively presented in swirls, ready to be popped into the ubiquitous soup and why not buy some nicely smoked cicadas, with two sizes available. The man, who thought I was about to purchase a bagful for lunch, peeled the wings and feet off and offered me a taste, but fortunately I wasn’t hungry so he popped it in his mouth and pronounced it delicious (well I ‘spose he did). Much in the way of smoked fish too, some absolutely coal black and looking past all hope of resuscitation, but I’m sure they can be served up somehow. The twin blackened piles exist all over Africa too. Hint: never get downwind of them.
Lots of skinny cats around but none trying to raid from the stalls. (By the way, in Myanmar, where I came from, I learned the Burmese for cat, which is miaow !) That one I shall remember and apart for the all purpose greeting of Mingalabar, I shall never master their language, nor Cambodian either, though I can say Air 2000, which is Air Pee Pwan, just in case you need to impress someone. ‘Yes’ in Cambodian is baa, so you hear people saying ‘baa, baa…”. I always mentally add black sheep.
Always amazing how in eastern market, liquids all go into plastic bags, regardless of how little you are purchasing. In Bangkok in the street market which seem to do the cooking for the entire population they place a metal or plastic funnel into the bag, down which it all goes and then with a quick flick of the wrist it is all tied off with an elastic band and Mrs Housewife ends up with a shopping bag full of tiny see-through plastic bags and I am sure manages to decant them at home without a drop hitting the kitchen floor.
Anyway, back in Sim Reap. the street cleaning ladies have to be seen to be believed. If you can imagine sweeping up leaves plus plus, while crouching on your haunches, using a domestic sized plastic brush and pan, then that’s what they do. The amazing thing is that it IS done at all, as there is skant local awareness of what constitutes garbage in most of these countries, and most things are dropped where you stand. These girls, wearing bandoleros masks around their faces, their bottoms centimetres from the earth, crouch their way around town and I commend them.
I also went staggering out in the heat to take a look-see at a suggested new couple of places for the repeat punters to visit. Tar roads soon descended in quality to the bare scorched earth variety and you could have been anywhere in the hot third world. Nice clean pools/streams with naked small children playing in the way naked small children play around the world .. we are back to the pleasures of a hoop or a ball here and no sitting in front of the telly. Would be difficult anyway, as once u get out of Siem Reap, then there is no electricity either, so just pressure lamps and a generator if you are a bit more upmarket. We took a little walk so I could see palm sugar being boiled down in huge pots over a wood fire – as if it wasn’t hot enough already. The end result is almost exactly like a hard fudge and we bought some to suck on. I could feel my teeth caving in under the onslaught.
Stopped at three sites, two of which are fine, with beautiful temples, not so large, but with exceedingly fine carvings. The third entailed a hike up a mountain path, climbing over large boulders etc. and I was having a slightly near-death experience and knew right from the start that this would not be for us. Anyway, with my clothes stuck to me and much water consumed, we made it to the top and it was all rather nothing. Only sad thing was that thieves had just been up there and hacked out a small reclining Buddha – there was just this gash of fresh yellow sandstone where it had been .. all v sad .. my young guide was quite upset, as he obviously knew more about these things than I would. He said it had probably been ordered by someone, rather than just a local trying to raise some money. I offered myself as an instant sting operation and would have posed as the wealthy collector ready to pay any price, but he said it was probably already out of the country.
Next day, back to the airport for the quick 30 min flight down to the capital city, Phnom Penh and another minder waiting for me, this time a new girl, v young and not long out of the guide school they have and thus a bit nervous. All human life traffic with families of five or even six on motorbikes, with the small/large/small/large seating arrangement and then the smallest one being held on the side. Back into Hotel Le Royal and many old friends immediately surfaced, palms together, grins a mile wide and where had I been and was I alright and how was my health and how was my family etc etc (and I did the same back, so the social niceties seemed to go on for ages) and then in the restaurant, the maitre d’ almost dropped a plate when he saw me coming and was then all embarrassed and I remembered the waitress called Thom (pronounced Tom) who had been pregnant for ever and asked after the baby and she was all overcome that I remembered and nearly poured a glass of water into my lap on the strength of it. A walk around the pool area, where a team of gardeners/cleaners were busy dusting the foliage – yes honest, they were – dusting with long feather flicks and then followed by a bucket and sponge to wash down the big leaves. Now where else could you possibly find such cleanliness ?
Later a quick trip into the spa and a bit of a steam to open the pores and then a salt scrub which is the greatest skin cleaner I know. I was a squeaky clean lad (well sort of) and ready to face the evening. Which only meant several glasses in the bar with the F and B manager and then off to find another bottle of champagne in the room and a very welcoming and cool huge bed. My ongoing birthday celebrations seem to be unending here and at one stage I had 5 bottles of champagne, so it was kinda getting out of control, but two managed to get drunk by the TCS staff next night and I have brought two more to Sri Lanka (where I am actually writing all this).
Anyway, next morning I am carried off to a NEW airline office to meet the boss, as TCS will be chartering them next month for a large group to go up to Siem Reap and it was thought a good idea if I checked them out. Turned out to be all run by Australians, so back in ‘mate’ territory and I was introduced to a sea of smiling faces and many business cards proffered (it’s a bit like Japan here from that point of view, with everyone armed with cards and the two handed sleight of hand exchange, with one card being slid under the other .. only the Asians would make it so complicated, but like chopsticks, you get the hang if it pretty fast). The MD took me out to the airport so I could go look at the plane, which is in a slightly lurid green but otherwise seemed to have the necessary number of wings and engines attached and I raided a couple of safety cards while on board, for the collectors.
And next day our plane arrived, dead on time after a 7 hours flight from Ayers Rock in Australia and off we jollywell went again. Back up to Siem Reap and back into the hotel and the champagne was drunk and the hotel General Manager hosted a delicious dinner for me, including fresh foie gras and we all drank too much (including my good friend Richard Yap, the Front Desk Manager, who was not up to such speed on matters of rich eating and drinking and was a no show for most of the next day on the strength of it. He said he was happy I didn’t have a birthday party too often.
But I was up like a lark at 0500 to take some of the punters for the Sunrise at Angkor Wat routine, which is always a disappointment as it doesn’t really happen in any big way as usually at this time of year, huge, thunderous clouds show up, but people feel they should do it, despite our warnings of it not being a wonder. And then later the whole day climbing around some of the most amazing bits of stone put together by man. Huge temples, belonging to a civilisation of more than one million people, when Europeans had yet to build Notre Dame.
Good to see that the 82 year old temple sweeper is still in position at Ta Prohm, which is the temple where they have left the trees intact, with their roots and trunks interlaced with the masonry .. it’s all very spooky looking and probably my favorite. This very photogenic guy, almost bent double, was featured in a fancy article in a posh magazine in the States, after the author and a photographer came around with us a few years ago and I finally remembered to bring him a copy so he could see himself in print. We had a miniature presentation ceremony and many of the punters took our snap together. (Back in Bangkok later, I go past a book shop and do a double take, as there is a newly issued edition of Lonely Planet Cambodia and he is on the cover!) Many small children now singing in impromptu groups on the way out, so at least they are doing something rather than standing there with their hands out. I managed to offload all the hotel pens I’ve been collecting for them, along with postcards from New York, which are always a big hit. (Hint to travelers going to places like this… bring postcards of where you live, mainly city views of tall buildings and not rolling countryside and dish out to all and sundry)
Then it was over almost before it had started and we were on our way out on to the front door and it was VERY sad, as who knows when we would be back. 9/11 had killed off our business and this would be the last visit until goodness knows when. All the management staff there, even at 0600, to give handshakes and hugs now, as we are so much part of the place and I cudda cried quite easily. Eszter, our lovely Hungarian Expedition Leader, was similarly affected and we just couldn’t look at each other. Then the hop back to Phnom Penh and I duck under the plane and count our bags out of the hold and off they went with their owners to Osaka and off I went to Bangkok.
But not before nearly being knocked sideways by the glory of the new Phnom Penh terminal, which the French have come along and built, complete with the pre-public announcement three rising tone, bing bang bong notes that I first heard in Orly Airport Paris in 1959 and which always mean La France to me. Gone were the shiny hard seats and the ancient air conditioning unit, grinding away in the corner and unless you sat right in front of it, then the heat was overpowering and you just wanted to be on the aircraft and cool. Replaced by chrome and glass and people perpetually polishing and mopping and upstairs a wonderful handicrafts shop to take the last USD off the pax (which ours of course did some significant money dropping and why not, as the stuff is great and the prices good). And even a cafe with OMG things like latte to drink… in PNH !!!! If anyone had told me that a couple of years ago, I would have doubted their sanity. But of course, the seedy charm has gone and that is always sad to people like me. Soon there will be nowhere left, apart from Yangon, that has any atmosphere or vestige of previous times.
timothyvalentinestravels 