How Ya Like Me Now?

Ugh! Just as I had feared, I caught Phyl's affliction the night before we took the bus to Phnom Phen. I woke up several times with diarrhea and extreme nausea, but I was not vomiting. By morning I was exhausted, dehydrated, and thankful that we had booked the 12:30 bus. To make matters worse, the woman scourge was in full swing. Freaking shoot me!!!!! The one positive for Phyllis is that I was too exhausted to have a satanic, hormonal, mood swing. I took 2 Pepto tables and 2 Immodiums with a coke, but didn't eat anything.

A bus picked us up from Bun Kao and we drove around the city picking up other passengers. I was mildly nauseated, but it wasn't too bad. We didn't arrive at the main bus station until 12:35 and we quickly got off the first bus, only to be swarmed by vendors pushing bags of baguettes and pineapples into our faces. It was stressful because we were trying to carry our bags from one bus to the other without vomiting. We sat on the large bus waiting to leave. Tick, tick, tick. We were only 2 of 4 tourists on the bus, the remainder were locals, and the driver didn't speak a word of English.

G- It is 1:00 o'clock!! We're a half hour late. We need to leave because I've got my tampon situation timed to the minute and our first rest stop is going to be pushed back.

P- I know, but I don't know what to tell you. How is your stomach?

G- It doesn't feel good, but I'm not gonna barf.

P- What I'm worried about is that this crazy mofo will drive like a lunatic to make up the time we're losing by sitting here.

G- Maybe we should go to the bathroom before we leave.



modern gas station

 P- As I was getting on the bus I asked the driver “toilet?”, but he said NO!!!  We could have gone, but I'm sure he had no clue what I was asking.

The bus finally left at 1:10 pm, and sure enough, we flew out of there like the bats leaving Carlsbad Caverns. To make matters worse, our driver did not just toot his horn when he passed someone or something, he laid on the horn like a pissed off New York cab driver. The horn was loud and the bus bounced as he passed motorcycle, ox draw carts, people drawn carts, cows in the road, and other buses.

P- This is exactly what I was afraid of. How is your stomach?

G- I'm just breathing deeply. This bastard is trying to kill me. He's going around these other drivers like he's driving our little sports car instead of this big ass bus. Whah!

P- It's going to be along 6 hours.

baguettes for sale

To make matters just a little bit worse, the driver put a movie on the TV. A heart wrenching flick that must have been about a family's trials and tribulations during the Khmer Rouge. The dad had to leave to go work elsewhere, then the mom got come terrible disease and coughed up blood, but didn't have money for medicine. The young daughter was still going to school, but the little bitch she sat next to teased her mercilessly. The wailing and ear piercing talking in the Khmer language, while very beautifully written, was driving a stake through our brains!!!!!

The incessant honking and cat screeching of the TV movie, was like an insidious scorpion devouring our brains. My stomach was turning over and I was getting that hot feeling in my throat. Phyl was feeling nauseated too, probably due to her nerves. Virtually every single one of the Cambodians was asleep! The iPod was on and really loud, but we could still hear the horn and the TV.

The land was flat, yellow and brown. Wooden shacks on stilts, some nice concrete homes, small muddy water holes, and big, gray, horned cattle appeared sporadically along the side of the road. The landscape was dotted with palm trees. I couldn't decide if I was going to shat myself or vomit. Phyl and I looked at each other with pathetic, pleading eyes. We sucked mints. At 2:45 pm the bus pulled over to the side of the road. The bus driver made an announcement, in Khmer, and promptly got off. We watched him cross the road and assume the man peeing position. Men streamed off and lined up on either side of the driver.

G- Oh shit! Do you think this is our rest stop.

P- It can't be.

G- Really, why can't it?

P- Well, I guess it can be.

G- I don't know what to do. I was supposed to change my tampon 15 minutes ago. What if we don't stop again?

P- Baby, I don't know what to tell you.

G- Whah! (I started getting my little bag of toilet paper & a tampon out just in case.) If women get off, I guess I'd better get off too.

The words had barely crossed my lips when several women walked down the isle, including a few grandmas, women my age, and several little girls.

G- It looks like I'm peeing in a bush! Do you have to go?

P- No. I'll wait here. Good luck.



roadside pharmacy

 I followed the old ladies to the womens' side of the bus and squeezed between 2 large bushes, catching my shirt on several thorns. It took me a few minutes to free myself and find an appropriate bush for the business at hand. Thank gawd I was now accustomed to peeing while squatting. Things went off without a hitch and I was just finishing up when the bus driver began to honk his horn. I looked around and didn't see any other women. Shit! He's honking for me. I yanked up my pants, zipped and ran around the bush and to the bus. He slammed the door on my heels and took off.

P- OMG! I was starting to freak out that he was going to leave you. I was yelling, “don't leave my friend!”

G- I thought I was going quickly until I heard the honking.

P- How'd everything go?

G- I guess it went ok considering I just CHANGED MY TAMPON BEHIND A BUSH ON THE SIDE OF A ROAD IN CAMBODIA! (I poured a bottle of Purell on my hands.)

P- What did you do with it?

G- I shoved it under a pile of sticks and leaves. I hate like hell to litter like that, but what else could I do with it? Carry it back to the bus with me? Put it in my pocket? I had no choice.

P- I agree. You had to leave it there.

G- And Judy thought I have problems with the primitive bathroom conditions.  Ha!  Hey Judy, how ya like me now!?!

He floored it again and we were flying down the road in no time.

G- I think this SOB swallowed a handful of speed with a few cans of Red Bull.

P- He's scaring me to death.

G- I'm not scared, he's just making me nauseous.

Half an hour later we stopped at a “rest stop”. We each selected a squat toilet, from several, in a long, narrow concrete building, in the yard, behind the restaurant. The men were very thoughtful, leaving the toilets for the women, as they lined up along the fence and peed into the grass. We decided that we should eat a little something, so we pointed at a bowl of fried rice and a coke.

P- Look at that way around the opening to the kitchen.

G- I'd rather not.

P- When do you think that was last cleaned?

G- Never. I can't think of that.

P- I'm sure the wok is very clean.

G- Yes, it's the only one they cook in, so it is cleaned daily. I'll get the sporks from my bag.

Back on the bus we prayed that the food would stay down..............and up. The depressing movie ended and Cambodian Karaoke came on. Everyone was laughing. We turned up the volume on the iPod and breathed deeply. We watched the sun set over the dry rice fields, and the rocking of the bus didn't seem as violent. We began to laugh. The bus ride would not have been so bad were it not for our upset stomachs, and of, course, the woman scourge.



We arrived in Phnom Penh with trepidation about how far we'd have to walk to find out tuk-tuk driver. Fortunately we had gotten Mr. Bun Kao to book a room for us at his friend's place, Sweet Home, and for them to have a driver pick us up. As I exited the bus, a man held a sign with my name scrawled across it. Thank Gawd!!!!! He carried our bags to the tuk-tuk and we rode the 15 minutes to the guesthouse. They had a restaurant, so we ate some soup and went to our room to shower and go to bed. We had made it through another bus trip, and had a funny story to tell our grandchildren. Glad we can laugh about it now.

Siem Reap Ink

Phyl awoke and, after a good night sleep, was fine. We walked along the river to the market to purchase a few souvenirs. The market is made up of exterior stalls and interior paths that contain hundreds more stalls. Of course we were pounced on the minute we showed the least interest in something in the stall, but this was aggressive and we enjoyed walking through the market.

G- I guess we should start considering where we're going to buy long pants for northern Vietnam and China.

P- I was thinking we'd wait until Vietnam.

G- Me too. I'm in no hurry to carry around extra clothes, but look at these pants.

P- You like those?

G- I don't like the camouflage, but I like the style.

Vendor – You want?

G- How much are they?

Vendor- $45.00.

G- (shocked) $45.00 U.S. Dollars?

P- That's just plain crazy.

Vendor- Expensive because they are real camouflage, not fake.

G- Ok. Thank you. (we walked away and to Phyl......) What the hell is real camouflage?

P- I have no idea. He's full of shit.

G- The only “real” camouflage I'm aware of is that produced by the military. Seems anything that is not an article of clothing from the military is not “real” camouflage. He's nuts!

P- I wonder what dumb ass falls for that line.

We were nearby Viva Mexicana, so we stopped in for a beer and taco.

G- I think I really want to get my tattoo here. I don't think I want to wait until China or Tibet.

P- I thought you decided against it.



Neng

 G- I've been giving it a lot of thought and at first I decided to definitely get it, then I decided it was a crazy idea, but now I feel sad about not getting it, so I think I want it. I was going to wait until I knew what I wanted, and I have a very strong feeling that I want an Apsara (protection goddess) from here.




P- If you want an Apsara, then you have to get it here in Siem Reap where the temples are located. I was going to wait until we got to China because I wanted the Chinese symbols, but I've been thinking that the Khmer language is very beautiful, when written, so maybe I'll get the Khmer word instead. Besides, it seems that lots of people have Chinese symbols.

G- Smiley said the guy he used here is very good and we can feel safe that the needles are clean because he imports all of his supplies from America.

P- Ok, let's do it.

G- Ok, I feel good about this decision, so it must be right.




We called and scheduled an appointment, and at 5:30 pm met Neng at his shop, Tattoo Machine. I showed him several photos that I had taken in the temples and pointed out the specific detail I liked from each one. He drew a sketch and we made changes, within the confines of the size I needed, until we reached the design I wanted. As Neng and I did this, Phyl thumbed through the Khmer/English dictionary looking for what she wanted. She was still undecided as to whether or not she wanted the word for harmony, unity, or peace. Fortunately, in Khmer, the word for harmony & unity is the same, so she also settled on her design.



Apsara

 I went first and it took about 30 minutes. Neng, cracked us up with stories of tattoos he has done and people he's met. He smiled constantly and was very quick to giggle (not laugh, but a silly little giggle like 14 years old girl).

P- Does it hurt?

G- Yes, Gladys. The man is repetitively sticking a needle into my skin. It hurts. That's why I'm chewing my gum so vigorously.

P- Does it hurt bad?

G- Not that bad. I'm sure it won't feel different from your first one. It hurts way less than my first one.

P- It has been about 15 years since I got that one. You know I can't remember.

G- You see that big grasshopper looking thing that just jumped across the floor?

P- Yes.

G- Get it out of here because if it jumps on me, I'm going to jump off this table and I don't think that would be good for my tattoo.

After mine was complete, Phyl got on the table and he began to do hers.

P- Shit! This hurts!

G- Um, yes. Hello!

We made small talk with Neng.

G- Neng are you married.

Neng – Not yet, but I just get a.... how you say it?....woman say she will marry me.

G- Fiance.

Neng – Fiance? Ok. I just get fiance.



Anna

 P- Congratulations. How long have you been dating?

Neng – A week.

G & P – A WEEK?!?! (We thought we had heard wrong.)

Neng – Yes, a week.

P- Neng, how are you marrying a girl you have only known a week?

Neng – (always giggling) Is ok. My parents know her parents. So it is good.

G- You seem very excited. Is she cute? Where does she work?

Neng – Cute? I don't know. I think so. Yes, cute. She is finishing university.

P- How old is she?



Smiley

 Neng- 21.

G- And were you both told by your parents that you had to marry each other? I didn't think arranged marriages were still common here.

Neng – No, we not have to marry. My parents talk to her parents. Then I go to meet her. We talk, she like me (smiles widely) and say she will marry me. Her parents show her other guys for her to marry but she say no to them and say YES to me. (He pumped his arms into the air triumphantly, giggled and did a little jig in his chair.)

G- Well you certainly seem excited.

Neng- Very excited.

P- When will the wedding take place?

Neng – Maybe May.

P- And will you at least DATE until then?

Neng – Yes, we will see each other.

G- What did she think of your tattoos? (he has them up his arms)

Neng – At first she no like, but I explain them to her and about my business and now she ok.

G- I'd think you'd be a good catch. You're cute, with a fun personality and a good business.

Neng -Thank you. (giggles) All families excited for the wedding.

P- Well good luck to you Neng. I can't imagine that your marriage would have more problems than some people's who dated for years before they married.

G- Will you have kids?

Neng – Yes, but we wait some time first.

When Phyl's tattoo was finished Neng smeared a balm on them and wrapped them in a saran wrap kind of stuff. He was just finishing up when a car load of people pulled up. It was his aunt and several of his cousins. They were very interested in our tattoos and spoke and laughed animatedly about them, us, who knows. Neng said they liked them. We took several photos, bid goodbye to Neng and the gang, and took a tuk-tuk back to Rosy's to show everyone and to say goodbye.

Not Very Keen

We were headed out to get brunch and explore Siem Reap. I packed the day pack, we grabbed bottled water and our Keens and headed downstairs. It is common to remove your shoes before entering religious sites and guesthouses; it's the reason our feet seem to always be dirty and impossible to wash clean. Maybe it's our New Orleans upbringing or maybe just because they are our only shoes, but we don't like to leave our Keens, or even our flip flops, out on the front steps of the guesthouse, so we take them off, then carry them to our room.

When we reached the front entrance, I dropped my Keens and slid my foot into the right shoe. Something felt funny. I looked down at the shoes and realized that they were not mine. At the same time that this light bulb was going off in my head, Mr. Bun Kao was looking at me and pointing to the Keens on his feet. He was wearing my shoes. WTF?!

P- What's going on?

G- I don't know, but Mr. Bun Kao is wearing my shoes and I have the wrong shoes. They look exactly like my shoes except that the plastic clasp is yellow instead of black, and the rubber on the toe is larger than mine.

P- How did that happen?

G- I have no idea!!

Bun Kao – Man leaving this morning cannot find his shoes. He see your shoes and say they just like his. He think someone steal his shoes but I say I think just confused, so I wear your shoes until someone come to look for them.

Bun Kao gives me my shoes and I hand him the guy's shoes.

G- Is this poor guy still here?

Bun Kao – No, he leave.

G- Do you know where he went? OMG! I feel terrible about this.

Bun Kao – It ok. He have other shoes.

G- Really, it's not ok. Most travelers have very limited things and our Keens are extremely important to us. OMG!

Bun Kao – It ok. Don't worry. He give me email address. I email to him tell him I have his shoes.

G- Ok, please email him immediately and if he's still in Siem Reap, I'll bring them to him. If he has left Siem Reap, find out where he went and I'll take them to him. I feel so bad about this.

Bun Kao – It ok. Don't worry. (He rubbed my back.)

G- Really, it's not ok.  :(

As Phyl and I walked away, I racked my brain trying to figure out how I had picked up this man's shoes instead of mine.

G- I just can't understand it! I stood on the steps, like we always do, slipped my feet out of my shoes, bent over and picked them up. Ugh! I feel so bad about taking that man's shoes.

P- Baby, how long are you going to beat yourself up about this? You didn't do it on purpose, and you left your Keens on the steps. It was an accident.

G- Oh, I'm gonna beat myself up about this for a long time. Do you know how upset we'd be if someone took our shoes? They are the only shoes we have! Most travelers only have 1, maybe 2 pairs of shoes! I hope the poor bastard whose shoes I took doesn't have to wear flip flops for the remainder of his trip.

P- Bun Kao said that the guy told him he had another pair of shoes.

G- Maybe he just meant his flip flops. What will drive me crazy is how did I pick up his shoes? The only thing I can think is that his were sitting right next to the spot where I slipped out of my shoes and when I bent over, I picked his up instead of mine. They do look exactly the same except for the yellow clip on his.

P- And it was dark when you picked them up, so that is what must have happened.

G- Still, I can't believe I never noticed.  We're worry about some asshole stealing our shoes and I'm the asshole who stole someone's shoes.

P- You didn't steal them.  You borrowed them for the night.

G- Not funny!!

It still haunts me because I cannot figure out how I did it, and because the next day I learned that the guy never got his shoes back because he had already moved on to another city. I got his email address from Bun Kao, who never seemed to have the extreme level of concern that I thought necessary, and emailed him myself. Unfortunately, he, an American from the northeast, had already moved on to Vietnam and I was to be in Cambodia for several more weeks. The guy didn't seem as freaked out as I would have been and told me just to take them back to the states with me and mail them to him, which, of course, I will do, but now I'm carrying an extra pair of shoes in my already full to capacity backpack.

And, I will never be able to determine how I picked up that man's shoes. I am usually much more careful than that!!! I'm sure it'll haunt me for the rest of my life.  Phyl says she just thanks Gawd that I did it and not her.

Bring Me a Barf Bag, Bitch!

Last night was not a good night. Sometime during the night I heard Phyl in the bathroom and could tell that something was wrong.

G- Are you ok?

P- No. I feel like I'm going to throw up, but I'm having diarrhea and I don't have anything to puke into.

(Because toilet paper cannot be flushed, it is put into the bathroom garbage can, usually a plastic
basket .)

G- I can get one of the airplane barf bags (that I carry in case of car or bus sickness).

P- Yes, please get me one of those.

G- Here, and let me wet your wash cloth with cold water.

Phyl proceeded to wake up every couple of hours and experience bouts of sickness. By morning things seemed to have stopped, but she was exhausted and still nauseated. I went downstairs for breakfast and brought her a coke and baguette in case she could eat some dry bread. She took ibuprofen and slept.

I had been attacked by the 'woman scourge' and was happy to lay in bed, watch TV (the AFC & NFC playoff games in replay) and read. At about 3:00 pm, I was hungry and decided to go off and eat so I woke her to see how she felt and if she wanted me to try to find her some soup. She was feeling much better, was hungry, and decided to go with me.

We walked over to Rosy's and ate something very light. There we learned that a 12 hour stomach virus was going around and the Cambodians were getting it too. We were happy to learn that it was not food poisoning. The afternoon was very uneventful. We, mostly I, ate dinner at a restaurant close to Bun Kao Guesthouse called Hawaii Pizza. Yes, strange name for a restaurant. The dish was pan fried fish (I could never discern the kind of fish, but it was white, flaky & sweet.) served on mango & papaya salsa. It was divine!!!

Back at Bun Kao, we made arrangements to leave on Sunday, 30th, via bus to Phnom Penh.

1 Dolla Buys Everything!

This morning we packed a small box (the size of a case of wine), provided by Smiley, with our souvenirs and stopped at the post office during our walk along the river. The only post office in Siem Reap was open and there were 4 women at the counter. We put our box on the counter and told the closest lady that we wanted to mail it to America.

Lazy postal worker – Can't mail today. Holiday.

P- Holiday?

Lazy postal worker – Yes.

P- Why is the post office open if it is a holiday?

Lazy postal worker – Can mail letters only. No box. You come back tomorrow.

G- We can't come back tomorrow, we leave for Phnom Penh.

Lazy postal worker – Can't mail today.

A lady standing behind 'lazy postal worker' looked at us with pity in her eyes, but would not intervene. Clearly 'lazy postal worker' was a bully.

G- Can you at least tell us how much it will cost to mail the box so we can leave it with a friend to mail for us.

Lazy postal worker – No. Only letters today. Holiday.

P- (to me, but loud enough for lazy postal worker to hear – if she understood) Well we know that is bullshit.

G- You see how small the world is? (Most) Postal workers are the same all over the world.

We gave her evil eyes, picked up our box and left.

G- Shit! Now we have to carry this box with us to Phnom Penh.

P- Why does that bitch have to be like that? You know she can take our box, she just doesn't feel like being bothered today.

G- And now I wouldn't give it to her if this was the last post office on earth! It'll never get sent to our house.

P- Ugh!!!!!

We were going to walk around the market, but now we were carrying a box, so we returned to Viva Mexicana, across from the market, and sulked while drinking a few beers and eating a few tacos. Of course hawkers passed and tried to sell us the usual crap. We waived them off with no thank yous, until a girl of about 12 came to the table.

Girl – You want to buy bracelets?

P- No, thank you.

Girl – Very pretty. 5 for 1 dolla.

P- 1 “dolla”, we could have bought 21 at Angkor Wat yesterday for 1 “dolla”.

Girl – No.

P- Yes.

Girl – You buy?

P- No. We have all the bracelets we need.

Girl – Where you from?

P- America.

Girl – America. You not buy bracelet from me.

P – No, I do not need any more bracelets. You have nothing I want or need.

Girl – You want peace and quiet? (giggles)

P – Yes! I want peace and quiet, but I can not buy that.

Girl – Yes! Yes! You buy!

P – (Gives girl puzzled look.)

Girl – You give me dolla, I go away and give you peace and quiet.

P – (Smiling at G and the girl.) Ok, she wins...give her a “dolla” so she will go away.

G- That's the first time we've heard that one. Good one!

We continued to enjoy our beer and watch the people go by. We were particularly amused when the Batman & Spiderman tuk-tuks pulled up. These tuk-tuk drivers were clearly proud of their pimped rides!!!!

Then a man appeared who constructed a circle of knives, all pointing into the circle, attached it to a tall stand, and placed a thin mat on the ground on the other side. He then turned on very theatrical music and proceeded to dive through the circle, into a tumble set and jumping up proudly on the other side. Few people were watching and we could not determine why he had selected this location for his act.

The usual carts of fruits, vegetables, cooking meats on skewers, women clad in their pajamas, sweating tourists, tuk-tuks, motorcycles and bicycles all passed as we watched the world go by. Eventually we walked back to our guesthouse, dropped off the box, and went to Rosy's for dinner. Everyone confirmed what we already knew, if the post office was open, there was no reason the woman would not take our box.

You Sit! No, Sleep!

Tired from walking the temples, we decided to stay 2 more days in Siem Reap. We were comfortable here and didn't want to move on and as long as we were here, it meant that if we wanted, we could return to the temples, but once we left, they were behind us. We rented bikes from our Bun Kao Guesthouse and road around the city. On the other side of the river we found Viva Mexicana were we stopped to have lunch. With happy hour from 10:00 am – 8:00 pm, consisting of 50 cent cold Angkor draft, really yummy tacos for $1.00/each, and fast, free wifi, we spent the better part of an afternoon there. We worked on blogs and talked to other patrons about their travels. It's important to never pass up an opportunity to get advice on guesthouses, avoiding scams, and things to see and do.


Mizzi & Katha had scheduled massages, the masseuses coming to our guesthouse, so we decided to do the same. We had told them about our Thai massages and laughed about they ways in which they touch you without batting an eye. Katha thought it was funny, but Mizzi was not really a massage kinda girl and, although she had only requested a foot massage, was very nervous about it. These massages were called Khmer massages, although none of us really knew what that meant. Phyl & I are always game for someone to massage us, especially for only $6.00.

The masseuses, 2 early 20 something females, arrived one evening at 9:00 PM. Not nearly as comical as Hong, they got right down to business. Note that we were in a king size bed, wearing our pajamas.

G's masseuse – You sleep! (she pointed to the bed)

G- You want me to put my head (pointing to my head) here (pointing to the pillow) or here (pointing to the foot of the bed).

G's masseuse – Sleep here! (pointing to the pillow)

I laid down as instructed. Phyl followed my lead and did the same. The masseuses climbed on top of our legs and started massaging our backs and butts. We tried to make small talk, but they didn’t speak English, and we don't speak Khmer. It was all for the better because it allowed Phyl & I to speak freely about the massages, and it allowed them to speak to each other.

G- I'm not sure how I feel about this taking place in our bed. It sounded good that they would come to our room, but now it feels kind've icky!

P- I can't really relax because I'm not sure where she's going with those hands and it's making me nervious!!

G- And since we're not into the orgy thing, it's kind've creepy.

P- I can think of quite a few of our friends, mostly our straight, male friends, who would like to be watching this, or trade places with us.

With that, my masseuse began folding my legs in the pretzel pattern, like the Thai masseuses.

G- Here we go again! I guess Khmer massage is very much like Thai massage.

P- Whatever, as long as she doesn't hurt me.

As we laughed again, my girl stood on my ass, facing my head, and tried to pull my feet around the front of her knees. My mouth fell open and Phyl started to say something to me when her girl climbed up on her ass, in a kneeling position, and started gyrating up and down in such a way that she was massaging Phyl's butt cheeks with her knees and inner thighs. We started laughing!!!!!

P's masseuse – You ok?

P- Yes. Ok.



street scenes

 G- Oh my gawd!!! I so wish that we could be video taping this. We can tell people about it but they'll never believe it.

P- I'm not believing it and it's being done to me.

G- I can't wait to go home and drink wine and demonstrate it for our friends.





Things settled down slightly as they climbed off of us and began to massage our legs and feet. Although I remained a little nervous because it seems like they never know the appropriate place to stop as they rub up your inner thigh. They chatted with each other, laughing occasionally, God only knowing what they were saying about us. Then the momentary lull ended when they stood up and we were given new instructions.

My masseuse – You sit!

We both turned over and sat up. Then the girls sat on our bed, leaning against the headboard and put our pillows over their laps.

My masseuse – You sit!

Phyl didn't move and watched as I skooched back, in a sitting position, between my masseuse's legs.

My masseuse – No! You sit!

G- Sit?

My masseuse – Sleep! You sleep!

tuk-tuk school bus

Finally realizing what she wanted, I lay down, face up, on the pillow. Phyl did the same.

G- I have to tell you, in case you didn't know, but I'm really not into that whole dominatrix, someone barking orders at me kinda thing.

P- Really? After 18 years, I never would have known.

It felt great to have our heads and necks massaged, but we were distracted by the heightened level of chatter and giggling between the masseuses.

P- I know they're talking about my boobs.

G- How could they not be? They're some kind of strange phenomena to them like the Angkor Temples are to us.

P- Ok, she can laugh at them, but now I think she's trying to touch them.

G- She's just massaging the upper portion of your chest.

P- Easy for you to say, you have none. I know when my breasts are being touched and I think she's touching them.

We started laughing and again said how we wish we had this on video tape. Then I realized that poor Mizzi had also gotten a massage, albeit only a foot massage and wondered what tortures of the damned she had endured. After the final cracking of our fingertips, we paid our $6.00 and off they went. Overall, we felt looser, in more ways than one, and more relaxed.

The Jewel In The Crown

Set picked us up at 10:30 and we headed northeast of town to the Cambodian Land Mine Museum, also an orphanage. The museum was founded by Aki Ra, a former child soldier, orphaned at a very young age when the Khmer Rouge killed his parents and put him into the Khmer military. He was taught to set landmines and planted thousands during his time of conscription. In 1995 he began clearing and collecting landmines, first on his own, later with international organizations. He is also raising many orphaned, and limbless, landmine victims. It is estimated that as many as 7 million active landmines are still buried in Cambodia and efforts are still underway to clear the land of these mines.


We left the museum digesting what we had learned and contemplating the horrible toll war exacts on innocent people.

P- I had no idea that we were bombing the hell out of Cambodia during the Vietnam war.

G- Neither did I, and the fact that we dropped more bombs, ONLY on Cambodia, than we dropped during the entirety of WWII is astounding.

P- I had heard the term 'carpet bombing', but now that I know more about it, it disgusts me that our government was willing to just kill so many innocent Cambodian people to cut off the Vietnamese supply lines.

G- Everything about the Vietnam war was fucked! We should never have been involved. If we had minded our own business, Americans would not have died, and the Vietnamese and Cambodians would have been better off.

P- It pisses me off that America is one of the countries that still won't sign The Mine Ban Treaty (banning the use of landmines) or the Cluster Munitions Treaty (prohibiting the dropping of cluster bombs that fall randomly to earth striking unintended targets).  Even worese is the list of the other countries who won't sign.  They're the countries we are always bitching about how bad they are, and we're one of them.
http://www.stopclustermunitions.org/  and http://www.icbl.org/


G- Yeah! That's what pisses me off the most about America! That we're hypocrits. You know how I hate hypocrits. Do as we say, not as we do. Like we're the moral arbitors of the world when, in reality, we are no better than the countries we wag our fingers at and act morally superior to.

P- It's amazing the Cambodians are so welcoming and sweet to us after what we did to them. I love these people!

G- Me too. They are so genuine and warm. I really like them.





We stopped for lunch and invited Set to eat with us. He ordered a fish curry or fish amok (a soup type dish, but filled with a lot of vegetables- more than a normal soup). We ordered a rice dish. It was a very communal eating arrangement as we ate some of his soup, taking it right from his bowl with our spoons, and he eating some of our rice in the same fashion. It was a good thing we are not freaky about such things. It was, however, somewhat disconcerting when Set pulled fish bones out of his mouth and dropped them on the floor under the table. Don't confuse this restaurant with a western style restaurant; this restaurant has concrete/dirt floors. The sucking of the teeth, apparently ok in Cambodia, was the most disgusting part. Thankfully, we were finished eating before that commenced.

After lunch we headed for the jewel in the crown of the Temples of Angkor, Angkor Wat. It was constructed between 1113 and 1150, during the reign of Suryavarman II, as the capital of the Khmer Empire and as the State Temple dedicated to Vishnu. It is the world's largest religious monument, a microcosm of the Hindu universe, with 600 meters (just under 2,000 feet or 7 football fields) of narrative bas reliefs and almost 2,000 apsaras. The moat around the temple, 200 yards wide, represents the mythical oceans surrounding the earth and the concentric galleries represent the mountain ranges surrounding Mount Meru, the home of the gods. The towers, carved to look like closed lotus flowers, represent the mountain peaks. Climbing to the central shrine immitates climbing a real mountain.

The sheer scale of Angkor Wat is impressive, but for us, the bas reliefs made Angkor Wat phenominal. The carvings are exquisite and in such fantastic condition one need not strain to discern the figures carved onto the walls. The primary subject matter is Hindu epics except for a wall depicting the historic procession of Suryavarman II and the wall representing heaven & hell. We spent hours walking along the galleries absorbing the epics as they unfolded along the walls.

G- Did that dumbass just touch the relief?

P- Yes, I've seen several people doing that. They're either Chinese or Korean.

G- What the hell is wrong with them? If everyone rubs and touches the reliefs, they'll disappear in less time than it took to make it.

P- I want to smack them every time I see someone do it! There should be more security here making sure no one touches them.

G- Hell, the tour guide we had at Bayon touched the reliefs. I was thinking then that he should know better than that.

P- It's crazy.

We watched the sun drop behind the outer wall of Angkor Wat as we walked on the causeway toward the entrance. As usual, we were swarmed by kids selling things as we looked for Set and our tuk-tuk.

Kid #1– You buy bracelet?

P- No, thank you, we already bought bracelets.

Kid #1 – But you not buy from me.

P- Yes, but we already have. We don't need more.

Kid #1 – You buy bracelet from me.

Kid #2 – Lady, you buy bracelet from me.

P- No, thank you. (Ah-tay Ah-cun)

Kid #2 – If you don't buy, I cry.

P- If you cried everytime someone didn't buy your bracelets, you'd be crying all day.

About 8 kids were around the tuk-tuk, each counting the number of bracelets we could buy for “one dolla”. A little girl about 7 years old came up next to me and began her counting. She looked up at me with big, brown, long-lashed eyes as she counted.

Kid #3 – You please buy bracelets.

G- No, thank you, sweetie. I already have bracelets.

Kid #3 – Please buy. Please.

G- Shit! Ok, give me the bracelets. (This elicited a huge smile!)

P- Now why did you do that? You know the money is not going to her.

G- I know. I know. I'm weak and I can't take it. Sometimes I crack. Those big eyes and smile just melt my heart.

P- I know. I do love these Cambodian kids.  I want to take some home with me.

G- What? Who are you? I think some Angor Wat spirit has invaded your body.  I know how you feel, but we are not taking any kids home.  Who do you think we are, BranJolina?

P- Very funny.  You know what I mean.  I don't really want to take any home.

We rode back to Rosy's kind've sad that this was our last day at the temples. Something about them had gotten into our souls. It is impossible to describe, and no doubt many visitors never feel it, but Phyl and I were in agreement that our time in the Angor Temples has left an indelible mark on us. But the actual temple Angkor Wat was not our favorite. Instead, we preferred Ta Prohm and Preah Kahn.

Pajama Chic!

Going to Banteay Srei & Kbal Spean on the third consecutive day was not the initial plan and we were exhausted and sore from 3 days of visiting temples. Also, the climb to Kbal Spean had kicked our asses! We wanted time to process the temples that we had visited before simply gobbling more up in a way that left no room for tasting the individuality of each. This is a privilege only slow travel affords.


These 2 days were set aside for relaxation before the climax of Angkor Wat. We slept late, ate late lunches, walked along the river, and sat at our new home away from home, Rosy's. We wrote blogs and read the Cambodian guidebooks in preparation for our trek south.

P- It cracks me up that so many Cambodian women wear pajamas as though they are clothes.

G- I think it's awesome! I wish we could get it to catch on in the States.

P- Don't get me wrong, I think it's great too, just bizarre.

G- You can do anything bizarre thing if it's culturally acceptable.

P- Did you see that woman who just passed on her motorcycle. She was wearing the pink, cotton pajamas, her hair all fixed, and dressy sandals with a little heel.

G- She's dressed up for something. Maybe they don't think of them as pajamas here. Maybe they're sold as if they're just cotton outfits. Technically, there is no difference except for the style.

P- But they clearly are pajamas.

G- I know that and you know that, but maybe they don't.

P- They look the same as all the men wore on TV shows in the 50's and 60's.

G- But in those shows the women were wearing long, silky nightgowns.

P- Maybe they save those nightgowns for formal wear. Hey Anna, what's up with the woman wearing pajamas as if they were clothes.

Anna – Don't you just love it? They have no sense of fashion here in Cambodia.

P- It's a trend I'd like to start at home.

One of the nights we had dinner at Mother's Guesthouse, just down the alley from ours, and met a Canadian couple, Gordon & Dorothy, with whom we had a conversation. They had been to Cambodia numerous times and were currently volunteering at an orphanage. They reiterated what we were being told by everyone, even the Cambodians, that by mid February, the heat became unbearable.