Another tuk-tuk, another town

Saturday started with a long bus ride to Siem Reap, which involved watching a lot of Cambodian karaoke videos and the countryside. The latter was far more interesting, and since the road is now paved the journey wasn’t too bad. We passed through few towns, so most buildings were along the road. It was such an odd contrast of traditional homes thatched with palm leaves and on stilts, with newer villas that would be decent by US standards scattered in between. Throw in the traffic—kids biking to and from school, carts pulled by water buffalo, motorbikes carrying everything from people to large pieces of furniture, military trucks, and fellow tour buses and you’ve got 2 lanes of fun. Beyond the homes there appeared to be nothing but rice fields. We stopped at a town along the way, which gave me a chance to walk down a side street and explore for a few minutes. I managed to find a temple with just cows guarding the place, which placed a very different kind of landmine than the Khmer Rouge. I came back to see them selling tarantulas, beetles, and all sorts of insects deep-fried along the side of the road. The locals took samples; the foreigners, only photographs.

Once I arrived in Siem Reap and settled into the hotel, I rented a bike to explore the town and adjust to its smaller size. I actually missed the river, which would be decent by SoCal standards but at 10 meters across, tiny compared to the mighty Mekong I’d just seen. I soon found a cooperative set up where they’re attempting to preserve the traditional arts and saw how they carved, painted, etc. Armed with my LP (Lonely Planet guidebook), I set out to find a place for dinner that included some traditional Khmer dancing. Little did I know what I was in for that night.

My first clue should have been the posh décor and overly helpful staff. My second clue should have been the absence of such trivial things as a menu (and price list). I sat there in my grubby clothes, sipping my pineapple juice and oblivious to my, when they finally handed me the menu. After weeks of eating cheaply, these prices sent me into a bit of sticker shock. The prices were fine by US standards and I would’ve gone there for a special occasion, but it was way more than I expected. Nevertheless, I decided to make the most of it and was treated to an exquisite meal. Perhaps because I knew what I was paying for every bite I savored it all the more, but it was one of the most delicious meals I’ve eaten on this trip. Finally, the show began. The costumes were similar to the ones I’d seen in Thailand, but the dancing was different. They started with one where the boys wore monkey masks and danced as the animals would before interacting with one of the girls dressed in a beautiful sarong with a golden headdress. Their ancient dances had exquisite costumes, but the “dancing” consisted mostly of slowly striking graceful poses—someone later told me that Phol Pot had killed most of the artists, so the dances were basically recreating the carvings at the temples as they attempted to recreate their culture. The folk dances of fisherman, etc. were also quite nice, but it was during that time that I remembered how little money was in my wallet and the credit cards were back at the hotel. I silently panicked until they brought the bill, and was relieved that I came in just a few thousand Riel short of the total. Lesson learned, the night concluded with some swimming in my hotel’s pool, admiring the stars.

On Sunday I was ready in plenty of time for church…if church had started at 9. Turns out it started at 8, so while I’d been an hour early for church in Phnom Penh, I was an hour late in Siem Reap. Thankfully, I’d run into the missionaries my last night in PP and they gave me a phone number to call for directions or I’d never have found it. Once again, the sign was only in Khmer but the meetinghouse was literally a large villa on an unmarked side street. Still, the final 2 hours were great and I had an awesome girl translate for me. Fittingly, the Relief Society lesson was about keeping a journal and I was reminded how many memories I’m collecting. I also saw the difficulties they face when one sister asked for suggestions on how to do this, since she could neither read nor write. Count your blessings if you’re reading this! After church, I was introduced to a member who was also a tuk-tuk driver named Dara—score! BTW, couldn’t even attempt to sing the hymns in Khmer since they didn’t have a Romanized version—maybe next time.

After church I returned to the hotel and welcomed my travel companion for the next 2 weeks, Cori Smith. Cori lived on the floor below me at BYU, and we’ve been talking about this trip since 2001 or so, never believing we’d actually do it. It was a photograph in National Geographic of a monk at Angkor Wat that set the whole thing off, the intense orange of his robe against the gray stone was exotic and exciting. I said I’d go before my passport expired in 2010, but wasn’t very serious as other trips came up and life progressed. Yet here we are! We spent the afternoon visiting a silk farm, seeing how those elegant scarves were made from start to finish. It was a fascinating process, and I had a newfound appreciation for their beauty, and their price—though I’m too frugal to justify the luxury. Dinner was at a café that included butterflies and frogs—live ones as part of the scenery rather than on the menu, thankfully. We made it an early night in preparation for the week ahead.