March 5, Monday, 2007, Siem Reap, Cambodia

It’s seven a.m. here and I rode my bike back to the coffee shop at the gas station. It was actually a bit of a ride, and now I’m a little sweaty. But that’s okay. I like the coffee and the atmosphere. Plus, it was too early for the places in my new neighborhood. None of them were open yet.

It is quite a nice neighborhood though. I described it a little bit the other day, but there is a lot more there than I realized. I went out a bit later last night for my pizza and then for a beer and I saw quite a bit more. A couple of lanes in particular had been closed to traffic and were jammed with wonderful little restaurants and bars. There was every type of place you could imagine. It was touristy of course. The entire area was made for and populated by foreigners. Yet it didn’t feel crass or wrong. Perhaps that’s because we tourists are such a mixed bag here. Khao San Road feels like a hangout for North Americans and Europeans. But in Siem Reap there are far more Koreans and Japanese and I assume Chinese. They tend to go to different places, but enough of them still came to this area that it gave the place an interesting flavor. Most of them came in their tour groups with their guides and for them this area was just as much a tourist attraction as the temples. They all stopped at the ends of the streets where the barricades were set up and had their pictures taken with all the lights of the bars and restaurants in the background. There were all kinds of music playing including a traditional Khmer band that had just set up at the side of the road. There were crafts shops, galleries, bookstores, and music stores in addition to the places to eat and drink. Most of the places were two stories and had outdoor seating that spread out onto the sidewalk, and seating on beautiful balconies up above that gave you an eagle-eye view of all the activity. What really set the place off, though was the amount of lighting. Every establishment had lighting of some kind. It felt like I was in the middle of a low-key festival.

This was a later part of my evening. To start off I walked to the end of one of the streets to go to Happy Herb Pizza. I was really looking forward to my pizza and banana shake. I had drunk as much as I could during the day as I went to the temples, but apparently I didn’t keep up with demand because I had a raging thirst. I wasn’t feeling my hunger quite yet, but I was very hungry. I hadn’t had anything to eat all day and had had a lot of exercise – the cycling and climbing around the various temples.

I don’t know why pizza has become so popular in Cambodia amongst the backpacker set. I don’t remember seeing so many little pizza places in Thailand or the Philippines or anywhere else. I think part of it is that they will add marijuana to your pizza if you ask, hence the names like Happy Herb and Ecstatic Pizza. The best pizza I had so far was my first one in Phnom Penh. And that one made my stomach so happy that I’ve stuck with that diet ever since when I had the chance and it is working like a charm. What a difference it makes to live without cramps and assorted stomach problems. I don’t know what it is. The cheese? They do put a lot of cheese on their pizzas.

On this stretch of road there are at least four pizza places. I had eaten at Ecstatic the night before, but I didn’t like their pizza as much. So I went to Happy Herb. I’d never eaten in an actual Happy Herb location. I’d just had their pizza delivered to the Jasmine Guest House when I was staying there and I liked it a lot.

No one was at Happy Herb when I got there. I guess it was a bit early for the “happy” crowd. I was a bit smarter about my table than I usually am and I didn’t go for my first choice, which was the table right on the sidewalk. I knew that if I sat there I’d be approached by lots of people on the street asking for money or trying to sell something. I went for a table a couple of rows in but which still had a view of the street. The waiter made me happy by instantly turning on the fan that was right above my table. Almost none of the restaurants here have air conditioning. Those that do tend to make a big deal about it in their advertising so it’s still a unique thing. You don’t need it anyway. However, you really do need a fan whirring overhead. Without a fan I end up sweating pretty badly just from eating.

The banana shake when it came was a heavenly experience. The terrible thing about those banana shakes is that they don’t last long enough. I solved that by ordering another one. I’ve become something of a connoisseur of banana shakes having ordered one everywhere. I don’t know that I have the best taste though. When I went out to GST with Michael and Michelle in Sihanouk, they said that they had the best fruit shakes in the city. I ordered one and dutifully praised it, but I didn’t like it. It was too light and delicate. I guess that’s why Michelle liked it. She probably has good taste. I like mine thick and ice cold and full of flavor whether it’s the condensed milk or the banana. In any event, Happy Herb fit the bill and my second one was as good as the first. I could have ordered a third and a fourth I think, but I tried to show some dignity. The pizza was as good as all of the others I’d had from them. It’s a thin crust pizza, but it’s not so thin as to make you think you’re being ripped off. And they don’t skimp on the toppings. They load on the cheese and all the other ingredients and take it all the way to the edge of the crust. It’s served hot and fresh on a thick round piece of wood. I plan on another one for tonight.

After the pizza, I sat there for a while reading my book and letting the food and the day settle. Then I set out to find a place to have a beer. The problem wasn’t finding a place to have a beer, but choosing one. I had thought that this long street with all the pizza places was what has come to be known as “Pub Street” or “Bar Street.” There are a lot of bars and restaurants on it. But I don’t think it is Pub Street. That has to be the street which I mentioned that is blocked to traffic. It was still a bit quiet I guess when I went to Happy Herb because I hadn’t noticed it. But I certainly noticed it this time. I didn’t walk down that street right away, but just took note of it and then went walking around it through all the other streets and alleys. Many of those were just as jammed with restaurants and bars and shops and people as the main Pub Street. I was very surprised. Some were so narrow that you ended up threading your way through the tables of the two opposite restaurants as they competed for street space. There was a real attempt by all these places to inject some kind of unique flavor and atmosphere. Some were clean and minimalist and hyper-cool. Others went the hippy route with lots of muted colors, cloth, and big soft pillows and cushions everywhere. Many just went for the standard international restaurant look with nice tables and chairs – the sort of place that anyone’s parents would look at and instantly want to eat at – places where they would be comfortable and not too challenged.

Then I walked down Pub Street. What I wanted was a place with a balcony where I could sit right at the railing and watch the streets below. Of course, that’s what many people wanted. Watching everyone else was one of the big draws of this area. However, I spotted a place that for some reason had lots of empty tables right around the railing. It was right opposite The Red Piano and I noticed that The Red Piano was completely full. I was by myself and was only going to sit and have a beer, so I wouldn’t have felt comfortable occupying a table at the fancy Red Piano anyway. I went inside this other place and walked up the stairs to the second floor. I noticed right away that I was out of place. The railing tables were empty, because this place catered to an Asian clientele and whoever they were (I never did figure out what country most of them were from) they came in large boisterous groups and occupied big tables in the center. The tables at the railing had seating for only two or at most three people.

A waiter showed me a table in the middle of the room, but I asked to be seated at the railing and he brought me to a table there. You couldn’t have asked for a better seat. It was ringside for all the activity below and a big fan was blowing right at my chair. A waitress then came and brought me a menu and that was the last I saw of anyone. No one came back to take my order. Occasionally a waiter or waitress would sail past carrying armloads of plates to the big boisterous tables and I could have flagged one down, but I wasn’t in the mood to beg for service. To be honest, I didn’t really mind. I didn’t really want anything. I would have ordered a beer given the chance, but it was so soon after the two banana shakes and pizza that a beer might have not mixed that well. In any event, I sat there for about forty minutes with no one even looking in my direction. I just leaned over the railing and watched all the activity below. The place was very busy by then and all the tables were full. A few people had come in in groups of three and were eyeing my table enviously. But I didn’t worry about it. I was forgotten by the restaurant staff, so I would just stay forgotten and enjoy my vantage point. It was one of the times when I really regretted not bringing my digital camera. My Contax isn’t convenient for that kind of night shot, but the digital would have been perfect. Had I had it with me, I could have recorded all these restaurants and other places at night or any other time. There was so much to watch I could have stayed there all night (if I wasn’t so tired that is). At each end of the street, a group of tuk-tuk and moto drivers were congregated and they would rush up to people who looked like they were leaving to see if they needed transportation anywhere. The tour groups were all taking pictures of themselves and occasionally they’d try and get someone to take pictures for them and pose with them – everyone making the V for victory sign. Once I saw a drunk westerner jump in with a group like this unasked and pose with them. He thought he was funny, but he was just rude.

When I’d had enough, I got up and went to leave. A waiter then stopped me and asked if I had paid my bill. He thought I was skipping out. I told him that I’d been there forty minutes and no one had come to my table to take my order, so there was no bill.

I walked out into Pub Street, and it was really busy now. I strolled around until I saw a place that had a nice bar. I didn’t want to sit at a table and go through a waiter to order a beer. I hopped up on the stool – a very comfortable stool I must say – and ordered an Angkor Beer. It came in a large bottle. At first I was worried because the bartender didn’t get it out of a fridge. He got it out of a series of red and orange coolers that were spread along the floor behind the bar. I thought the beer might be warm. But it was ice cold. The banana shakes had had enough time to settle and the beer slid down effortlessly. Even the mug was chilled and frosty. I nursed that one beer for a while, enjoying every sip, and then got up to stroll around a bit more. I went into some of the galleries and the arts and crafts shops. I wasn’t interested in buying anything, but it was enjoyable to look at it all. It was past ten o’clock by then – a late night for this temple hound – and I bought a bottle of cold water and strolled back to my room at the Bequest.

The day itself had been as enjoyable – though not as luxurious – as the evening. I started the day at the Red Piano with a couple of cappuccinos. From there I went to a convenient travel agent just across the road and booked a seat on a bus going back to Phnom Penh on Tuesday morning at 7:30. That was an effortless arrangement to make. I already knew that I wanted to go on the Mekong Express Limousine Bus. That bus line is considerably more expensive than others, but like my new hotel, I think it is worth the extra money. I think a normal bus to Phnom Penh might be six dollars. Maybe five. The Mekong Express is $10. But for that you get a bathroom onboard and as far as I know, a very comfortable bus as well as onboard service of water and wet towels and snacks. Plus, as I learned when I bought my ticket, they pick you up at your hotel. You can’t beat that especially when you have a bicycle that needs to be packed up. There was some concern about my bike. I asked about putting a bicycle on the bus and they said the same thing that the people in Sihanouk said, that it was possible, but I would have to make the bicycle small. I assured them that that was no problem. I’m making an assumption here, though. I got the bike into the bus in Taipei no problem, and the buses here are the same size. So I’m guessing that simply taking off the pedals and turning the handlebars sideways as I normally do would be enough to allow it to fit in the luggage compartments. I was thinking this morning, though, that I might take it further than that. I will only have one day in Phnom Penh and perhaps I can live without my bike that one day. If so, then I can really break down my bike here and prepare it for the flight back to Taipei as well. I have a comfortable place to work here and I could spend time this evening really packing up the bike into a small package and then just take it to the airport that way. I had hoped to just ride my bike to the airport of course, but they didn’t like that at EVA Air in Taipei, so there is no reason to believe that they will be any happier about it here. Just to be safe, I might go the entire way and take off the wheels and actually remove the handlebars and attach them to the frame and remove the seat entirely and do whatever else I can to really pack it up. For the bus, I don’t need to put the bike in a box or anything. So I can do it in two stages. I can dismantle the bike here and attach all the bits together neatly, and then in Phnom Penh find some cardboard and tape to wrap the whole thing up. The drawback to this whole idea is that I would then have to take a taxi to the airport. I guess I can live with that. Riding there and dismantling the bike at the airport would be convenient, but it would also mean getting very hot and sweaty just before getting onto the flight. I don’t know if my seatmates would appreciate that. And it might mean another fight with EVA Air and I can live without that. Plus, I did have the idea long ago to simply ride my bike from the airport back into Taipei. But I think I’m getting in late in the afternoon and that means cycling in the dark and I don’t want to do that. If the bike is all packed up neatly, I’ll just take a taxi or the airport bus. A taxi might be the best because even if I do take the airport bus into Taipei, I’ll still have to take a taxi to Rooftop Paradise. Maybe it would be wiser to spring for the taxi right from the airport. No point driving myself crazy to save a bit of money at this point.

Once I had my bus ticket and the arrangements made (the bus leaves at 7:30, but they are going to pick me up at 6:30) – I used their computers to check my email. This travel agent was also an Internet café and they had great computers. So it is possible to get good places here.

I was thinking about how wide one’s mood and thoughts can swing on a trip like this. I’m thinking back to when I first arrived in Phnom Penh. I was staying by myself in that non-backpacker hotel and I was fascinated by little boys selling coconuts on the streets. I was eating at all those typical neighborhood restaurants (and promptly getting very sick – let’s not forget about that). I was thinking a lot about the economy of this place and I was quite affected by the workers at the bridge who earned 6,000 riels a day. At that time, the trip felt much like my trips to Ethiopia and Guinea. The attraction was the normal life on the streets and in the villages. Now my mood and the tone of my trip have changed considerably. I’m in the middle of one of the greatest tourist attractions in the world. I don’t mind that, of course. I’m very glad that I decided to come here to Angkor Wat. Now that I’ve experienced this place I can’t believe that I even considered not coming here. One thing that changed in all of this is my sense of economy. When I was cycling from small town to small town outside Phnom Penh my personal economy stayed within reason. The local people likely couldn’t afford (and probably wouldn’t be asked to pay) the $5 a night I was paying for my hotel rooms. But that was the only option and it felt reasonable. Sure, that $5 was three days wages for that bridge worker, but I can’t help that. Now, though, any such concerns are right out the window. My peers are not the bridge workers and farmers anymore. My peers are the other tourists and my sense of economy has adjusted to their level. I go into a pizza joint and have a single meal for $6. I then have a beer for $2.50. And I’m not even thinking about it. Well, that’s not true. I do think about it and that’s why it’s on my mind now. I realized when I was in the bar how free I was with my money all of a sudden. And I wondered about the Cambodian staff at all these restaurants and bars. I wondered how much money they earned and whether the disparity between us was the same as with the bridge worker, or were they in a much higher income bracket. If they also made a dollar and a half a day, then they must find all the spending going on around them pretty crazy. I only spent $2.50 in that bar, but that was pretty unusual. The average person hitting the bars would have had two, three, or four bottles of beer or more, spending $10 to $20 without thinking about it. That is a lot of money to see being thrown around effortlessly when you make so little.

I had this same feeling yesterday when I bought my second pass for the Angkor temples. That whole process wasn’t much better than my first time I have to say. There was no one at the toll booths when I got there so I just rode my bike up to the toll booth and handed over my $40 and my picture. The woman wouldn’t take it though. She said I had to park my bike and then come back. I told her that I had done that the first time, but the guards then told me I had to cycle back around and go through the toll booths again even though I already had my pass. She said that I was supposed to ride my bike through the toll booths without buying a pass, park my bike, then WALK BACK to get my pass, and the go through and get my bike. This set my logical brain to reeling. I was particularly puzzled because the bike made no difference at all. The woman couldn’t even see my bike from where she was sitting in the booth. She’d have to stand up and look down to see that I was straddling a bike and not just standing there. She only knew I was on a bike because she had seen me ride it into the toll booth area. My money was there. My picture was there. She just had to take it, give me my pass and I’d be on my way. Simple as could be. But she wouldn’t do it and I had to go through and park my bike. So I did. I pushed my bike over to the other side. This was technically illegal of course. Now I was in the Angkor temples park without a pass and that was worth a fine. A guard could stop me and ask to see my pass and I’d have to explain that I was going back to get one. Nice try buddy.

Anyway, I locked up my bike, took off the handlebar bag, removed the bike computer, and then walked back to the toll booths to get my pass. Unfortunately, in the time it had taken me to lock up my bike, a group of tour buses had arrived. And of course they had to be French tour groups. The French tour groups had taken over all the toll booths, even the one that I had been told the day before was for individual passes. I made a tiny attempt to get the woman’s attention. She had sent me away and she knew that technically even though I was just showing up, I was next in line. But that didn’t matter. It certainly didn’t matter when you were dealing with the French led by a French-speaking guide. The guide saw me standing there and he threw out an arm and blocked my way and barked something in French. I assume it was something along the lines of “back of the line buddy. We were here first.”

So feeling like an utter fool, I had to push my way back through this big crowd of French people, and now get in line behind them. It took quite a long time for them to get sorted because none of them had pictures and they each had to have their picture taken with some kind of web cam and then have the picture attached to their pass and printed out. Meanwhile, the guide was standing there like a drill sergeant. And then a bunch of French people came up behind me and then pushed past me saying things like “I am in group.” I stood there in my own personal Kafkaesque world that I always seem to occupy just shaking my head. The tour group finally was all processed and it was my turn. But of course now that they were processed, they weren’t finished yet. They had taken their pictures, but now all the passes for this big group had to be printed out. Plus, the tour guide had to pay for all the passes. He had a huge stack of $20 bills in his hand. It was quite an astonishing amount of money to see all at once in this country. He handed the brick over and the toll booth woman counted it a few times. I wondered what she thought of handling that much money. This was just one tour group late in the morning. Earlier in the morning there would have been dozens of such groups each handing over bricks of $20 bills. I really wonder where all that money goes. What I’d read in the Lonely Planet wasn’t encouraging. It sounded like most of it just disappeared into government accounts and was probably distributed amongst the rich families that run the country. I haven’t had any personal experience of it, but the newspapers here are full of stories of corruption in the country. It sounds like it is one of the most corrupt places in the world and that everyone in the government concentrates solely on making themselves and their relatives as rich as possible as fast as possible.

Once everyone in all the French tour groups had their passes, the woman finally turned to me. I was sorely tempted to vent my wrath, but I was a good boy and just handed over my money and picture. She took it and then waved me forward and told me to wait. This is actually the silliest part of the whole procedure for me. Once you pay your money and give them your picture, you are then just sent forward to mill around in the parking lot along with everyone else waiting for their passes. It’s not like they know your name and can call you when your pass is ready. In fact, the woman in the booth is pretty much stuck in there. No, when a pass is ready, another person then comes out with it and starts yelling. We all rush up to her and stand around. We’re all waiting for our passes after all. Maybe it’s mine. We all have to peer over her shoulder or have her show the pass to us and one by one we look at the photo to see if it’s our pass or not. I went through this silly procedure four times and then the fourth time, it was my picture on the pass and I was free to go. It’s clear to me that someone set up the physical toll booths and the buildings without taking into account how the passes would be processed. I’m sure there is a better way of doing it. It’s like going to the movies and then being told to go into the theater, buy your popcorn and drink, find a seat, then exit the theater, come back around and pay for your ticket, but then go in again and mill around in the lobby waiting until someone shouts out that a ticket is ready and then you all have to fight over it to see whose ticket it is.

Actually, it’s not really that bad. Certainly when I bought my passes in the mid-morning it went fairly smoothly once you figured out what their “system” was. I do wonder, though, what it is like early in the morning when hundreds of people are all trying to rush through in the dark to get their precious sunrise pictures.

Once I had my pass, I got on my bike and cycled slowly towards the main road. I knew someone was going to want to check my pass. I just didn’t know which of the half dozen or so uniformed guards was going to pop out of their comfortable chairs in the shade and demand to see it. That’s what it feels like – they demand to see it. The exit from the toll booths area is a big wide driveway that connects up with the main road. It’s not like you go through a checkpoint. It’s just open and clear. What ends up happening is that you get back in your vehicle or on your bike and then start riding down the driveway. You pick up speed because you are going to merge with the traffic on the main road, but then suddenly a guard comes running out of nowhere waving their arms and shouting at you to stop. The net feeling you are left with is that you have been caught! You feel like you were trying to sneak past, but they caught you. “Hey you! Where do you think you’re going? Let’s see your pass.”

Again, it’s not nearly that dramatic, but to someone like me with an overdeveloped sense of systems, it is all pretty ridiculous. Everyone has to show their pass after they go through the toll booths, so why not have a checkpoint there? Funnel the exit down to one lane, put up a little booth (or even just a table and chair) put a guard there and have a sign or something that says “Please present your pass here.” But no, they just leave it wide open and then at the last second come running out of the foliage at the side of the road and shout at you. It’s similar at the temples where you are often asked to show your pass. The guards are likely not well paid and they’re not going to stand out there in the sun all day. So they take a chair and put it under the nearest shade tree. As you approach the temple entrance, you’re never sure if you’re going to have to show your pass or not. The guard is way off to the left or right. It’s not like you have to pass the guy to get in. So you walk toward the temple all the time waiting for the shout. Sometimes the shout comes “Hey you! Get back here! Show your pass. Are you trying to sneak in?” And sometimes the shout doesn’t come and you just stroll in. I got into the habit since I’m on my bike of parking my bike near the guard. It’s easy to do because the guards are always amongst the trees and I’ve found out that no one minds if you lock your bike to one of those trees. So I park by the guard and then walk right past him and show my pass whether he wants to see it or not. Actually, when you walk near them, they always want to see it. It’s only when you’re far away and out in the hot sun they might just let you go.

All of this nonsense aside, and it really is just a small part of the day, I had a wonderful time at the temples. The first one I stopped at was the one that made my day, and I hadn’t even planned on stopping there. I had even ridden past it on one of my previous days. I had stopped to take a picture of the big stone gate, but I hadn’t gone in because I was going somewhere else. The signs are not always the most consistent and I didn’t even know what was back there. Yesterday, however, I thought I might as well check it out. There were quite a few vehicles out front so it looked like it was one of the bigger places. I can’t remember the name right now. I think it was Banteas Kdei, but I’m not sure. In any event, I found it entrancing and I did my usual routine of spending two to three hours there taking pictures. I approach these temples like I’m stalking them or something. Instead of marching straight up to the front and going in, I always veer off to the side and roam around the edges for a while taking pictures and looking at things. Then I go in and instead of going into the center, I again go off to the edges and circle around the whole temple from the outer wall. The whole time I’m taking pictures with my 50 mm lens. Then when I’ve gone around the whole temple, I find a way to go inside, not usually the main entrances, though. There are always little doors and openings that you can get through from the edges. Then I wander around the inside going randomly from room to room snapping pictures. When I find myself repeating areas, I sit down for a while and just absorb the place and then I go over the entire temple again but this time with the wide-angle lens on the camera. It’s really enjoyable to see the temples through the lens of the camera. It really brings the place to life for me and I appreciate all the detail. I was quite surprised while I was at this temple to run into the man who had cycled with me the other day when I was leaving Siem Reap. This was the guy who was following me because he thought I knew the way to Angkor Wat. We chatted for a while. He was just as surprised to see me because as far as he knew, I was on my way to Phnom Penh. I told him I’d changed my mind and decided to spend some more time visiting the temples and exploring Siem Reap. I was worried that this poor guy would end up having a very difficult day after his 20-km detour before even getting to the temples. He said that it was a good thing that he got lost. He said that those 20 km in the hot sun had convinced him that it wasn’t a good idea at all to go to Angkor by bicycle. When he got back to Phnom Penh, he returned the bike and hired a tuk-tuk to take him around the temples. It was probably a wise choice. When I saw him on the highway on that bicycle he looked about ready to drop.

I stopped for a couple of cold drinks when I left that temple. I stopped at this stall because when I asked, the woman said that the soft drinks were 2,000 riels each. That is the going rate for Coke and Fanta I’ve learned. I made the mistake one day of just stopping at a place and asking for a Coke and a small bottle of water without asking for the price. I drank them both and then the woman asked for $2! I could have given her a hard time, but I figured it was my fault. I hadn’t asked for the price, so she could charge what she wanted. Michelle had had the same experience and when the person asked for $1 for a Coke, she bargained with them and got the price reduced to the normal price. This was after she had already drunk it. So it is possible to bargain after the fact. But I didn’t bother. I was actually pretty annoyed with the woman. I don’t enjoy bargaining at all and I especially don’t like it when people give you a price that is outrageously high. It means they assume one of two things. Either you are rich and don’t care how much you spend, or you are an idiot and they can take advantage of your ignorance. Ever since that time, I’ve asked how much a drink is beforehand and then I don’t bargain. If they tell me the right price, I buy it. If they ask for $1 or $2 or $5 or whatever for a Coke or a small bottle of water, I simply walk away and go somewhere else. It’s not reasonable I know. People bargain in these countries and why not ask for as much as possible? But I still find it a bit annoying if not insulting for someone to ask for three or four times the normal price. I can even see them hesitate for a second before they give me the price. I ask them how much a drink is, and they kind of stop for a second and then look me over and then invent a number. The higher the number, I guess the dumber I look to them. So I just walk away and get my drink somewhere else where I get a reasonable price from the beginning. I’m so dumb that when I get a regular price, I often overpay by a lot and then tell them to keep the change. Very perverse fellow I am.

From Kdei, I continued cycling on the “Big Circuit.” I did the normal temple tour kind of thing this time and didn’t have any particular temple in mind. My experience at the Kdei had been my temple experience for the day and anything else was just an extra thing. So I cycled along checking my map from time to time to see what was on the way and I pulled into a temple here and there whenever the mood struck me. I went to one place because it was supposed to have lots of perfectly preserved elephant statues at all the corners. It was also originally on an island in the middle of one of the huge reservoirs. The reservoirs are all empty now and the roads go right through them. I also stopped at a place that had more of the pyramid structure where all the towers were made of small bricks rather than large rocks. I enjoyed that one very much because you could climb very high and then you had a wonderful view of all the surrounding countryside. It was a great chance to see the setting of the temples in the middle of nowhere and imagine the hundreds of thousands of people (they say the population of the city surrounding these temples was over a million) that lived here when these temples were being built.

I didn’t plan to, but I ended the day back at the Bayon, my favorite of the temples so far. I was actually just heading back to the city, but I thought I would stop for a second and just look at the Bayon from the outside. Then I locked up the bike and went inside. There were quite a few tour groups there at the time and it wasn’t as pleasant as on my first visit. I went outside and sat on the grounds for a while. I sat there for a long time and the sun started to go down. I thought that since I’d been there that long, I might as well wait even longer and wait until the sun was quite low in the sky. I’d never been at any of these temples in dusk or dawn light. I still had lots of film and thought I could just take a picture or two if the light was nice. I sat by the outer wall and watched the shadows creep slowly across the ground. I put a rock on the ground and said I would wait until the shadow had crept to this or that point. Around 4:40, the light seemed very nice and I got up and climbed back into the temple. I took a lot more pictures, though to be honest, the light didn’t seem any better than it had been in midday. I had the polarizer filter on my 50 mm lens and thought it would really make the faces in the Bayon very dramatic, but it didn’t really make any difference. I shot some pictures anyway. Maybe the camera and film would capture something subtle that I wasn’t seeing. I wandered around until quite late and even went back out and climbed up the piles of rocks along the outer wall. I thought a guard would yell at me to come down, but I was left alone. Eventually I was joined by a mother and son from Chile with their tour guide. The guide had brought them there deliberately because the son liked to take pictures. He pointed up to where I was on the pile of rubble and said that was the best place from which to take a picture of the Bayon. I spoke with the mother for a while which is how I learned they were from Chile. She said that their guide knew all the ins and outs of temple touring. He knew when all the tour groups were gone and where all the best vantage points were. She said that they were up at 5:30 this morning to catch the sunrise from somewhere. And tomorrow morning she said they were going to get up at 4:30 for another sunrise. From what I’ve seen and heard, I can’t imagine anything more annoying than having a guide constantly telling you where to go and what to do.

I’d heard a lot about how it’s busiest at the temples at sunrise and sunset. I honestly found that hard to believe. I’m sure lots of people might think about getting up at 4:30 or 5:30 to catch a sunrise. But how many people actually get around to doing it? Apparently quite a few. I got my first taste of that yesterday when I left from the Bayon. I think it was around 5:30. I thought I should go because it was starting to get darker and I didn’t want to cycle in the dark. I left from the Bayon and ran into a massive traffic jam that ran all the way through the Bayon area and around Angkor Wat. It was utter chaos. Everyone was there to get a sunset picture of Angkor Wat. Michael and Michelle never did stick it out for a sunset either. But they did introduce me to this Swiss girl Zora who wanted to see a sunset. She was telling me the story and said that she waited practically the entire day. She had gone to the temples early and now because she wanted to see a sunset, she ended up spending hours and hours just hanging out and waiting. Zora ended up quite annoyed because as she said, she didn’t even get to see a sunset. There was no sunset that day. It just got dark.

Today is my last day for the temples. My plan was to go to a place called Banteay Srei. I still might go there, but I’m starting to have different thoughts. The temple is 32 kilometers from Siem Reap which would probably mean a 70-km round trip. I wouldn’t mind that on a normal day, but this is my last day and I also have to pack up the bike for tomorrow. That kind of trip in the hot sun might not be the best choice for my last day. I’ve already spent a lot of time here drinking my cappuccinos and I’ve enjoyed that very much. I think my time might be better spent going to some local temples – perhaps a return visit to Angkor Wat itself – and then spending some time around Siem Reap and then packing up at my leisure. It’s already ten in the morning and I likely won’t hit the road until eleven. Then it would take two hours to cycle up there, a couple hours at the temple, two hours to cycle back, and I wouldn’t be back in town until five or six. That might be a bit ambitious when there is no real need to so far. I think I’ll go back out to Angkor Wat this afternoon and spend a more relaxing day. Banteay Srei will have to wait for another day in another year.

 

 

Tags: bike, Cambodia Bike Trip, Phnom Penh, temple