Day 6 (09/12): Phnom Penh to Siem Reap, Cambodia

Day 6 (09/12)

I'm up early again. This time not to beat the midday heat, but to make it to the boat which will take me to Siem Reap. I'm heading there to see the temples of Angkor, a UNESCO World Heritage Site and what most visitors come to Cambodia to see.

I arrive at the boat terminal.
"Do you have someone to pick you up at the other end sir?"
"Ah...no. I was planning on just taking a tuk-tuk."
"Boat is outside of Siem Reap, sir. Tuk-tuks don't come out unless ordered. You can book one with us, sir."
I take his word for it and buy a $3 tuk-tuk ticket and am assured a driver will be at the other end to pick me up.

So, the boat is a Soviet-style hydrofoil which thunders up the Tonlé Sap - "the largest freshwater lake in South East Asia" - and arrives in Siem Reap about six hours later.

Inside the boat, the vinyl seats are predictably uncomfortable -I'm learning to cast away any preconceived ideas about what to expect here - but they allow passengers to lie on the roof and sit on the front of the boat as it speeds across the water.

The guidebooks did warn me: "The boats in no way meet international safety standards".

I take in a huge expanse of water, dotted with waterlilies, and the numerous floating villages of Tonlé Sap slide by. I get a nice wife-beater burn as a souvenir of the trip.

Six hours of water, a great deal of water, six hours. It becomes mesmerising, meditative, soporific sometimes.

I write this note in my book:

I'm moving. I'm by myself. I'm moving, carving through this water. We're moving. The air enters my nose, my lungs. I drink it in, in deep gulps. I'm moving, I'm by myself. I'm moving.

For the first time in a while I'm happy.

We arrive at the closest point the lake gets to Siem Reap. Ra, my tuk-tuk driver, is there, holding a sign that reads 'Mr. Martin'.

Ra has superb English for a Khmer, and especially for a tuk-tuk driver. He finds me a hotel. Then he tells me:

"You see, sir. The three dollars you paid my boss, I don't get any of that. It would be great if you gave me some business, take me as your driver for the temples."

We talk about where he can take me, how long I will need and he offers me a price.

I should have done my research, it's my own fault; I don't haggle and agree to the first price he offers. "Very reasonable I think" he says. I should have spent two minutes to look at what the going price is for a tuk-tuk driver for two and a half days at the temples, but the lack of internet over the past few days meant I travelled to Siem Reap blind. Turns out I agree to about 20 or 25 dollars more than I should (and that kinda money travels far in this part of the world). I have a feeling it's too much, but I'm tired, I don't feel like shopping around for drivers, and the deal-maker is Ra's fantastic English - I figure he can educate me on the temples while he drives me around. He is to pick me up later this afternoon to take me to see the sunset at the temples.

Another driver is there to pick me up.

"Mr. Martin?"
"Yes."
"I'll be taking you. Mr. Ra can't make it"

On the way to the temple I realise; the shifty Ra has outsourced his job to a mate, and pocketed the difference.

I'm such a fool.

I buy a three-day pass, and Sam, my new driver (with terrible English mind you), drops me off at the base of the mountain on which sits Phnom Bakheng, a favourite spot for tourists to watch the sunset over Angkor. The temple itself, over 1100 years old, is remarkable:

The temple sits on a rectangular base and rises in five levels and is crowned by five main towers. One hundred four smaller towers are distributed over the lower four levels, placed so symmetrically that only 33 can be seen from the center of any side. Thirty-three is the number of gods who dwelt on Mount Meru. Phnom Bakheng's total number of towers is also significant. The center one represents the axis of the world and the 108 smaller ones represent the four lunar phases, each with 27 days. The seven levels of the monument represent the seven heavens and each terrace contains 12 towers which represent the 12-year cycle of Jupiter. According to University of Chicago scholar Paul Wheatley, it is "an astronomical calendar in stone.

At the base, in my tank top, I'm told I need to have my shoulders covered if I want to go up out of respect for the sacred monument. Shit. I start to think I've wasted the evening, the trip, the extra money I agreed to with that sneaky Ra.

No need to worry, one of the numerous opportunistic peddlers of crap at the base of the mountain is happy to part with one of her "authentic Cambodian" scarves for a lovely rip-off price. What am I to do?

I rush up the mountain, flanked by three other big Australians, all draped in brightly coloured scarves.

The sunset is gorgeous. But after having done some more research, I would go to a less popular temple next time to see the sunset, just to avoid the crowds of snap-happy tourists ("such a hypocrite" I hear whispered).

Hydrofoil selfie.

Temple/scarf selfie.