Onwards through Cambodia

 

   Finally made my exit from Siem Reap; it was long overdue. There were plenty of foreigners, but none I connected with (something I’ve been on the lookout for lately). Mostly package tourists and a few closed off groups of rowdy Aussies. The city’s feel just bothered me, smelled of exploitation. The taxi touts are enough alone to cast a negative light; I’ve never met any as persistently annoying!
   My last night at the guesthouse, I had planned to leave before dawn and wanted to settle my tab; turned in my key as well since I wouldn’t be needing it. Explained I’d be cycling off in the early morning, exchanged fake smiles, and I turned in. Wasn’t sleeping well, too hot with even the lack of clothes or sheet. In a half sleep daze I heard a door, my door, being molested by some would be intruder. Wasn’t entirely alarmed by this but it was obviously enough to raise an eyebrow. Felt secure though, I had slid the lock across the door. At least I felt secure until the fumbling noise ceased and my door swung open. I sat up, alone, naked in my room and eked out the words "Uhh, excuse me?". The shadowy figure immediately took a step backward realizing the room he expected vacant, actually still occupied. He kept the door open just a crack apologizing embarrassed while I sat upright in bed. One of the more awkward conversations I think I’ve ever had; it couldn’t end soon enough. He wanted to hand me the key but I insisted he just leave it on the ground by the floor to save us both the dignity. Suffice to say, I don’t think they understood at all why I left the key. Lesson for the future as well: keep the key and leave it in the door or in the room.
   I was on my bike pedaling out of town by 5:15a, morning light just beginning to peek from behind the dark veil of the sky. Delightfully cool air at this time of day; only wished it persisted. Air comfortable, surroundings peaceful and quiet for a change, and all around me bicycles! Bicyclists were everywhere mostly riding towards Siem Reap I’d assume to head to work or to market. At this time of morning bicycles far outnumber both cars and motos combined.
   I had done my research and found that 60k down National Highway 6 a place to sleep sat in the town of Kompong Kdei (labeled differently on my map, a problem I’ve found). There ended up being four guesthouses in town; surprising for such a one street cow town. The 60k went by in a flash and given my early start, I had hours and hours still to kill the remainder of the day. I felt like I could ride further but was not in a mood to risk finding the next accommodation. I picked the first guesthouse I saw: it was of mediocre quality priced at $5, the de facto room rate it seems (regardless of whether its a luxurious or squalid room).

   Nothing to do in the town except eat, drink and shop; I headed to the market to browse with eyeballs trained on my every move the whole time. Bought some sliced pineapple with chili salt. In later boredom I returned to the market but it was nothing but a ghost town. So strange to see the place bustling with life one moment and then deader than dead the next. Impressive too since sellers setup and tear down all their wares every single day.
   Came out of my room in the afternoon to see a bicycle, clearly foreign, upside down in the hall with a man beside tending to it. I trotted over, smile beaming like I’m meeting long lost family. He’s touring SE Asia he tells me, started in Chiang Mai and went through Laos and Vietnam to get here. Steve from New Zealand, I’m introduced. We tear into all manner of travel and cycle related subjects, myself at least excited to speak to another tourer (it’s been rare for me). He says he’s met many though through Laos and North Thailand and even travelled with one for a few days. We have a drink and dinner, strangely at one of the few places still open. Maps open, we go over routes and he points out places I should head and tips about the regions. We’re both headed in opposite directions and it’s a shame too since we’d both like to be riding with a partner at the moment.

   The next morning was another early departure given how successful the last was. On my way out of the guesthouse, tires just pumped up and already on the saddle pushing off to leave, I hear movement on the second floor and I’m being called to in a halting manner. I already know what this is about: they think I’m running out on my bill. The woman owner hadn’t asked me for money the day prior and I couldn’t find her later to pay so I decided I’d simply leave the key and money inside the room. Could only assume no one would be up at 4:30a but apparently they’re early risers at this joint. I try to explain to her that I’ve left the money but it’s no use: I walk with her over to the room to show her my honesty. I’m thanked and back again, on my way.
   Another peaceful morning ride. I make a stop in Stoung 30k south which had a bank, one visible guesthouse (that seemed closed) and restaurants. Had a meal of rice and a few pieces of BBQ pork. Everyday I’ve had 2-3 square meals of rice. It really is a miraculous food: it stretches expensive ingredients out and really fills you up! Surprises me though despite poverty, how much meat they still do eat. The distinction though is its always used sparingly and stretched heavily with rice or soup rather than just a Western plate with a hunk of meat and maybe a piece of lettuce for presentation.

   Beggars are all over the country and with a government that does nothing to help it’s people, it’s not much of a surprise. I gave very little in Siem Reap, something about it didn’t feel right. It’s in the villages and small towns though that I haven’t been so reluctant. I don’t know by what logic but it just seems more "right" to me. I suppose I figure that if someone has to go and beg their own people for money then they really must need it. So many have lost limbs and can’t work to support themselves; truly sad.
   Similar to Thailand, foreigners are given the title "barang". I noticed it the first day I arrived. To me it seems Cambodians are much more open with it though where in Thailand I think they realize the foreigners now generally understand what it means so to remain covert, they don’t use it so much. I sat at a shaded roadside table where I sipped a Coke and sat surrounded by three or four curious people. It was obvious they were talking about me, and for quite some time too, but what was said, no idea.

   It’s been necessary to pick up some Khmer; smaller villages usually only have a handful of English speakers and they’re often not around when you’d need them. Hasn’t been easy though. I’ve been strangely getting attitude when I try to practice what little I know. People ignore me or walk away or make faces as if they were offended. Those that speak some English usually choose not to humor me when I attempt Khmer and make abrupt replies in English. I do know a few things though: how to count, say hello, goodbye, thank you, sorry; not even close to enough though. The language isn’t tonal but the pronunciation is a challenge for Western tongues; their sounds just don’t exist in English.

   Noon arrival, I was in Kompong Thom, a city of considerable size compared to the villages I had been through; was even in the guidebook. There some Pre-Angkorian ruins north and south-east of the city that I thought would be interesting and giving myself a rest, I’d take moto taxi. Checked into Arunras Guesthouse (next door to their flashier more expensive hotel) after checking out another guesthouse down the street and realized the better value (both again, $5). Such a silly chain of events would then follow.
   After checking in on the first floor I went back to ground level to retrieve my bags placing them on my third floor room. The room felt a lot hotter than when I was first shown it before check in and reaching for the fan, I realized there was no power. I left my room unlocked so after alerting the front desk, they could inspect the problem. I went to tend to locking my bike, drinking down a coconut and purchasing the biggest sweet mango I’ve ever seen in my life. 5-10 minutes must have passed before I returned and was told the power now worked. Climbed the staircase, traversed the hallway and turned the unlocked door to my awaited horror: my bags were gone. I checked the room, just in case they were moved but to my climbing dismay, no such luck. I told myself someone must have slipped into the unlocked room and taken the bags. It didn’t seem very likely at all to me but I rationalized it pathetically by thinking about the impoverished desperation of people here.
   With some calm but mostly franticness, I told the front desk, the same woman from before. She obviously didn’t understand because she led me back upstairs and happily showed me the power worked….Not exactly what I was worried about at this point. Apparently it sank in eventually and back at the reception area a group of staff was amassing to discuss the problem. I was the most serious of the bunch, not a hint of brevity, no smile on my face, that was for sure. I couldn’t do anything but stew in my head, Khmer I couldn’t begin to understand flying by me. I thought about what was in those bags: sure, a small point and shoot camera, a Nikon 50mm lens but nothing else of high dollar value (except the bags themselves which are not cheap and unfortunately would not be easy to replace in this part of the world either). Everything was replaceable though, I’d be out a few hundred bucks but it didn’t matter, I could replace it all. That is, except for one single thing: my memory cards, my pictures. That realization changed me from bailing water out of my mental ship to yelling for all crew to abandon and watch as it sank beneath my now miserable mood.
   Maybe the worst part of this whole disaster was when one of the staff, I’ll nickname Weasel, started to outright call me a liar. Weasel stood there in front of everyone and claimed that, no no, I was all wrong, I had never even brought up my two pannier bags; he claimed he never saw me bring them up. Oh I was pissed. This guy was undermining me for no reason and had the power of language to converse with all these others. The bad continued as several of the staff were giggling at my misfortune and the lack of smile on my face. If those memory cards weren’t in my lost bag then I bet I could still keep a hint of a smile but the thought of those lost pictures made me miserable.
   With hardly a change in atmosphere I was now being led by Weasel back to the staircase. I asked sheepishly what was going on. My bags he said, were upstairs, but skimped on most details. So confused, frazzled. He led me to my room and there, as I left them, my bags!! ….how?! Smiling with his weasely pleasure, he tells me I put my bags in the wrong room. Oh my god….no…there’s no way….could I? I did. One single stupid wrong right turn in the hallway caused all of this trouble. The rooms were identical in both positions in the hallway and layout of the room. Also identically, both rooms somehow had unlocked doors, a detail I noted later that if the door to the alternate room was not unlocked, I would’ve stopped there and figured it out. Upon learning my misfortune I was mortified, terribly embarrassed. All of it was my stupid mistake. I felt ignorantly stupid, plain ridiculous. A numbing but unfortunately familiar feeling. I somehow often get myself into such predicaments; you could even say I have a knack for it.
   Still shaken from all the mess I decided to nix all the days plans and relax.
   Tourists came and went throughout the day, this being a stop on the route from Phnom Penh to Siem Reap (and vis versa). I’d see big crowds of French or Aussies ushered into restaurants that paid out to the bus companies for the business. By the late afternoon I was the only Westerner in town.
   So all in all, Cambodia has been a mixed bag for me but I’m not feeling much fondness for being here. The heat and lack of personal relationships compounds the situation. I’m unsure again of whether to press on or to come up with another idea. Like before, it’s obvious to me that these "problems" are hardly anything to worry over; I have it very lucky for this to be the greatest of my worries. Phnom Penh lies just another 170k away making it a two day ride. I think I’ll go today to see those ruins then plan some sort of departure for tomorrow morning.

 

PS: Silly glasses + sillier hat + me + tigers attacking an elephant = this

24.Apr.09 South East Asia 2009