Siem Reap

Rob and I travel up to Siem Reap (town serving the Angkor Wat complex) a day before the rest of the team, in order to set up various practical arrangements. We board the Mekong Express Limousine Bus near the waterfront in Phnom Penh. Rob is vaguely disappointed that the promised hostess on the bus is actually a soft spoken young gentleman who points out sights and places of interest in both Cambodian and English along the 314km from Phnom Penh to Siem Reap. We get a breakfast box consisting of pasty like item and currant bun, as well as free water. The air conditioning is set to arctic – one of the things I thought I'd never hear myself say in this country is 'How nice to get out of the bus to warm up.' Onboard entertainment is a video DVD playing Mr Bean, Cambodian pop videos (there's an awful lot of melancholy lasses what have been abandoned by some bloke, and are now dying of TB. Or something) and a sort of Cambodian version of the Chuckle Brothers.

On arrival, we are literally mobbed by tuktuk drivers offering to drive us in to town for $1. At one point two or three have physically got hold of me and are dragging me away from Rob, who is likewise bodily moved towards tuktuks. We settle on one, who drives us to the hotel swiftly and then gives us his phone number – you wouldn't normally get a tuktuk for a $1, it's a sweetener to get the lucrative full day driving you about Angkor Wat, which is a few km to the north, and requires transport between different temples.

We settle in to the hotel, which is made of pavilions of two up, two down dotted about a garden full of palm trees and brilliant pink flowers. The effect is of seclusion and calm. Having checked the bookings for the team and ascertained that no free transfers are available, we organise our bus driver (friend of a friend of our Phnom Penh driver) to pick up the team from the boat and drive us about on Sunday. We begin footslogging about the town, checking prices and locations of different restaurants. We stop for a drink in Butterflies – advertised as an oasis of calm full of 1500 tropical butterflies (which are caught thrice weekly by local children, thus enabling them to earn money to go to school) I see two butterflies, possible the same one twice. It's dark brown all over. Also, building work is taking place next door. However, I do try a rice wine, which is about as strong and sweet as sherry, and rather fine.

We continue across the river to the old market area. Here are more restaurants, almost al doing both Khmer food and pizza/pasta. Pub street is lined with, well, pubs all aimed at the tourist market. We skip Molly Malone's authentic Oirish pub and proceed to the Balcony cafe, where we drink wine and sketch out a plan of where to take our team.

We also see some gorgeous silk boutiques, some fair trade, all quite pricy. I see a sign on a market stall offering traditional scarves for $3-$4, whereas I have seen the same in Phnom Penh for $1.25. Such is Siem Reap – the only place many people will see in Cambodia, often as part of a tour through Thailand, for which all money will go to the Thai tour operator. Siem Reap itself (ironically, the name actually means Victory over the Thai) is a dusty town consisting of about three roads. The main temples themselves are located 7km north, on a fairly shiny new road, with a big ticket control area where webcams take a photo of each visitor which is immediately printed onto your $20 one-day ticket. The temples are surrounded by children and women demanding that you buy their bracelets/trinkets/silks. If you tell a child to go away, they will often stop and ask you where you are from. If you say England, they reel off in perfect English facts about the population and capital, and then demand that since they have told you all about your country, you must now buy postcards. Buying anything immediately unleashes a torrent of other voices pointing out that their trinkets are a different colour, and must also be purchased.

Another feature of Angkor Wat are the groups of maimed and disabled men who sit near the main tourist routes, playing beautiful music on traditional instruments. Deprived of their ability to work by landmine injuries, they busk away, begging tips and selling CD’s for $5.