“It’s an irritating reality that many places and events defy description. Angkor Wat and Machu Picchu, for instance, seem to demand silence, like a love affair you can never talk about. For a while after, you fumble for words, trying vainly to assemble a private narrative, an explanation, a comfortable way to frame where you’ve been and what’s happened. In the end, you’re just happy you were there — with your eyes open — and lived to see it.”
Anthony Bourdain
After the hellish 12 hour night bus from Sihanoukville to Battambang, the 3-4 hour journey to Siem Reap during daylight hours was an absolute breeze. I was picked up from right outside the hotel, late enough in the morning to have woken up without an alarm and still have breakfast before leaving. I still arrived in Siem Reap hours before it would get dark.
Such a short journey was quite a novelty, and I almost didn’t know what to do with myself when I arrived.
As the bus drove through the outskirts of the town (before stopping on a random road alongside a shitty hotel I can only assume had an agreement in place with the bus company), I tried (and failed) to get a good early feel for the place.
The outer reaches were full of soulless, sprawling, uninviting resort/hotels that were clearly in place to appeal to the older demographic of tourist who found themselves in Siem Reap to explore Angkor Wat and its neighbours. I do understand older travellers craving a little more comfort and convenience, but these places looked a bit depressing from my perspective.
No one on the bus was willing to fall into the trap of the shithole we’d been dumped outside, and I split the cost of a tuk tuk to the centre of town with a few other backpackers. We were dropped off at the end of the infamous ‘Pub Street’ and went our separate ways in search of cheap beds after each paying our share of the fare.
I had read, either online or in my Lonely Planet, of a good guesthouse with cheap fan rooms down one of the side streets opposite pub street, and followed my map looking for it.
I walked past a bunch of other places, making mental notes of some as alternatives in case the one I was looking for was a bust. At the same time I assumed the further I got from the main strip, the better the prices would be. I walked for around 5 minutes until I found the place I’d been looking for.
It was big, with a large outdoor area between two buildings hosting the dorms and private rooms on either side. I enquired after a private room and happily took one after taking a quick peek, not bothered about the flaky paintwork when I could have a comfortable bed and unexpected aircon unit for around $5 a night, which was less than double the cost of the 10 bed dorm.
After ditching my backpack and completing my check in back down at the desk, I walked back down towards pub street and the rest of the backpacker hub in the middle of town.
First I walked up and down pub street, scouting for places to watch the football that night. It was a Saturday, and the new Premier League season was starting that day. Arsenal’s game was amongst the batch of kick offs at 3pm UK time with a few more appealing fixtures to compete with, so I was keen to see what my options might be later that night. More places along the strip were advertising live coverage than weren’t, so I carried on content that it’d be easy enough to find somewhere to watch later on.
I then wandered into the nearby market, pleasantly surprised by the quality of stuff on sale for such a tourist hotspot, and only put off by some of the prices. At a stall selling photocopied books I found a sequel of sorts by the author of ‘First They Killed My Father’, Loung Ung. The book had captivated me (if you’ve never read it, please do. And please read the book before watching the movie adaptation) and brought me to tears when I read it ahead of my trip, so I felt compelled to buy this one as well straight away.
I think I bought a couple of little trinkets as well, before grabbing a cheap noodle lunch by the riverside across the street from one edge of the market.
After eating I walked along the river for a while, completely surprised by how quiet it was. I had stretches of footpath, streets and riverbanks all to myself, not something I expected in one of the biggest tourist destinations in the entire region. I guessed most people must have been at the temple complex but even so, it was strange.
I strolled back towards the guesthouse, this time encountering a gaggle of motorbike and tuk tuk guys on the street corner just before it. I hadn’t yet worked out how to get to/from/around Angkor Wat and its neighbours the next day, so for once I was pretty happy to see them to be honest.
The guy whose turn it was to try and get a fare immediately got to work on sweet talking me, making all kinds of offers to take me to the best bar in town or to the most beautiful girls in Siem Reap later that night.
I quickly told him I was already set for the evening, but was in need of a ride and a guide for the next two days going to Angkor and surrounds.
A few minutes of negotiation followed, and we agreed on a loose itinerary (Bayon, Wat Phra Thom and others tomorrow, Angkor and others the following day) and a fair price. I’d meet him in the same spot in the morning.
He was happy to have secured work for the next couple of days, and I was happy to have my plans sorted.
I walked the last little stretch to the guesthouse, and saw something beautiful when I got there.
A football game.
On the dusty rectangle of dirt in between dorm and private room buildings, a few European backpackers were engaged in a game with some local kids and staff from the guesthouse.
Despite my poor skills I knew I had to get involved. I’d just have to pop upstairs first to ditch my market purchases and change my footwear.
I opened the door to my room, and nearly dropped my shopping bag on the floor as I looked directly ahead of me.
I had a guest.
Unlike Koh Rong it wasn’t a rat this time, thankfully. But not a cute little gecko either. It was a lizard, but this one was fucking huge! It was trying to hide behind the aircon unit fixed to the wall but was far too big to do so, it’s big arse and tail hanging out the back.
I wasn’t particularly bothered by it though. Not concerned anyway. I was actually kind of excited, as it was quite the novelty. I just didn’t really know what to do about it.
Would it be scared? Would it be happy to just hang out while I was there too? Would it do me a favour by eating any mosquitoes or spiders that came in? Would it panic and end up destroying some of my stuff?
I tried to take some photos that might give a decent portayal of just how big it was, and tried to coax it out to get a better look, without success. The big guy was a bit shy.
Instead I zipped up by backpack, changed from flip flops to knackered old converses - the best footwear I had to kick a ball in, and went downstairs to throw myself into the football game.
I was assigned a team with one Italian backpacker and a few staff, up against the Italians friend, another random backpacker and some more staff. It was as intense and as fast as physical exertion really needed to be in the late afternoon heat in that part of the world. I have absolutely no idea which team won, though I remember both scoring one or two goals myself while also being very much at fault for one or two going in the other way, so it was probably close.
It was great fun, and there were hugs and high fives all round once we all decided we’d had enough and went off to shower or get back to work. It was, as ever, good to have a decent kickabout.
Back in my room I greeted my reptilian friend before taking a shower ready to head out to Saturday night on Pub Street.
The group of motorbike guys on the corner started making a fuss as I approached, but settled down once I was close enough to be recognised, at which point they just greeted me and wished me a fun evening.
Once I arrived on Pub Street, it was like a different world to that which I’d strolled through earlier that afternoon. Neon lights flashed overhead as hedonistic groups bounced between bars advertising cheap deals on buckets of spirits and mixers, not unlike what I’d seen back on Koh Pha Ngan for the Full Moon Party in Thailand.
There were a few hours until the football started, so I decided to settle in somewhere to eat first without worrying about whether or not they’d be showing the game. The place I picked had TV’s, so I figured I could stick around until it became clear which game they’d show.
I had a great dinner, but unfortunately it wasn’t Arsenal on the screens so I quickly paid up ready to walk around in search of our game. It must have been the lowest profile fixture of the night, as I only found one place - one of the last left to check out - actually showing it.
90 minutes later and I wished I’d given up when I had trouble finding a place. Arsenal took the lead, only to give away some stupid goals and suffer a comically bad defeat at home to Aston Villa to start the season.
I was bummed about the result, but with two days of exploring the Angkor temple complex ahead of me, not overly upset. Life was too good to let a bunch of idiots in red and white shirts bring me down, a life lesson I would need to carry with me pretty much forever more as the team seems to decline more which each year that passes.
What did bring me down though was an encounter I had shortly after leaving that bar.
I walked from there to the opposite end of Pub Street, the end close to the road I needed to walk down to reach my guesthouse. Caught in two minds over whether or not to duck into another bar for one last beer before calling it a night to drown my sorrows, I walked back and forth along a few bars while umming and ahhing over it.
Doing so seemed to make me something of a target to a young Khmer woman who’d been standing under the neon archway that welcomed pedestrians onto Pub Street.
As I decided against that last drink and started to make my way home, she made a beeline for me. She looked worse for wear. Exhausted, dirty, and unhappy. She held her sleeping baby, no more than 6 months old, in her arms.
She pleaded with me for money. She needed it to feed her child, she told me.
No money, I responded.
How about a meal for her? Some other supplies for the baby from the nearby pharmacy?
No. Only money would do.
It seemed pretty clear to me in that case, that she didn’t need money to feed her baby. Not directly at least. Just as I’d been told about elsewhere, someone else must’ve been lurking in the background, ready to take their cut before sending her back out to beg more drunk foreigners for cash.
As ever in these kinds of scenarios, there was no pleasant way out. Give in and hand out a few dollars, and you feed the vicious, predatory cycle. Walk away and you feel heartless.
I chose the latter, content in having at least offered alternatives.
I couldn’t shake her image from my mind though, and struggled to get off to sleep that night. All I could think about was the poor baby, not even a year old and seemingly destined to a life of poverty and few opportunities through no fault of its own.
I felt lucky a lot throughout this trip, but not for a particularly good reason on this occasion. I guess it was guilt more than luck that I felt as I tried to drift off to sleep.
I slept eventually that night, and was glad to have passed on staying out for another drink when my alarm woke me up bright and early. I found somewhere nearby for a quick breakfast before meeting my tuk tuk guy outside the guesthouse.
It was early enough that I felt a slight chill when he picked up a bit of speed down a tree lined main road outside of town, but already with plenty of warmth shining down with the early morning sunlight.
Shortly before reaching the sprawling temple complex itself, we pulled into the massive ticketing area. Though I only planned on going for 2 days, I bought a 3 day pass as it was either that or buy 2 singles, which would have cost more. I posed for an awkward I.D photo that was then printed onto my paper ticket. I guess too many people before me had sold on their extra days before skipping town.
There are over 70 temple sites across the larger Angkor complex, and I only really knew for certain of 3 I wanted to go to - Angkor Wat (obviously), Bayon, famous for being covered in huge, smiling faces, and Ta Phrom, which has been partially reclaimed by the jungle and looks absolutely incredible for it.
That left plenty more to choose from, but very limited time. My driver suggested a couple of possible routes for each day, and I happily went along with his recommendations.
Unfortunately I didn’t make notes of which temples we were visiting, so I can’t recall today the names of the others.
The first one was big. Well, I thought it was until I saw Angkor the next day, anyway. Some sections were very well preserved, while other parts were really crumbling to pieces.
As I wandered around by myself, wide eyed and taking a thousand photos, a local guy maybe 5-10 years older than me approached and started to make small talk.
I was so in awe of the place that my guard was down more than I would usually allow myself in such a destination, so I didn’t catch onto what exactly was going on.
He told me he was a policeman, and patrolled the site out of uniform to make sure people treat it with respect and help tourists when they needed. Not much really happened that required his attention though, so he liked to show people around to meet people and practise his English.
So far, so wholesome. I told him I was happy looking around by myself, but accepted his offer to take some photos of me posing in front of a few spots. He insisted he knew all the best bits to catch the sun shining through gaps in the walls and hidden sections on the roof where it was safe to walk. All of which he proved was true, so I went along with him as he showed me and snapped away.
This probably went on for around 30 minutes, and seemed far too good to be true for a random encounter. As I told him it was probably time I got moving I found out why - he was of course performing this service not out of boredom or kindness, but with the expectation of being paid!
I felt like a right mug for not realising at the start, and apologised profusely as I excused myself to leave. I told him I was thankful, but he needed to be up front and tell me at the start if he wanted paying. I’ve little doubt he knew that full well, but was adept at persuading people after the fact. He didn’t push me on it though and wished me well before walking off to find someone else with deeper pockets.
The next stop was quite a bit smaller, and much more quiet. This time around I shared the site with barely 10 other tourists, and it was a sign of things to come for the rest of the day. With less people around I was able to take a bit more time admiring the more intricate details, and take some better photos.
Stop number 3 was even smaller. It was probably a much bigger site back in the day, but today leans more towards ‘ruins’ than an actual temple. I didn’t spend quite so long at that one, with less to examine and a rumbling stomach distracting me.
Time for lunch.
When we’d arrived at those ruins we parked across the dirt road from it, as there was a noodle shack there where my driver told me we could have lunch. He was already sat down with a bowl when I wandered back over, enjoying a cold drink with his food and chatting away with the vendors.
There were a couple of souvenir sellers alongside the noodle joint, and considering our proximity to Cambodia’s biggest attraction I was surprised by how laid back they were. Some kids did approach me asking me to buy stuff as soon as I sat down, but when I told them I’d have a look after I’d eaten, they listened and backed off. Doesn’t happen everywhere.
True to my word, I walked over to one of the souvenir stalls once I’d finished my lunch. After months on the backpacker trail, I finally caved and bought a pair of the Thai fishermans pants with elephant patterns that almost everyone else wore. I also grabbed an Angkor Wat singlet from the other vendor, being sure to buy something from each of them as thanks for respecting my wishes when I asked to be left alone to eat.
Refuelled, we hit the road again with two more temple sites to check out before calling it a day. The first of them was the least exciting of the day. Nothing wrong with it, just that I enjoyed the others more. It was pretty small and I got around it pretty quick.
The fifth and final one for the day though, was possibly the best.
The first stop had been in much better condition and was probably more impressive overall, but there was something a little but magical about this last one for me.
It was much quieter, for one. While there were a few people about, at any point I could walk 5 paces and turn a corner, and find myself all alone.
That solitude, the late afternoon sunlight hitting just right, the tree cover providing welcome respite from the blistering heat along with the soft sound of leaves rustling in the breeze above, all combined to create the most blissful scene I’d experienced across my travels away from a beach.
There were plenty of ledges to sit and walls to lean on, so I really took my time and made my way around the entire site, stopping to sit and do nothing every so often. I sat and stared in awe at my surroundings, and smiled to myself. I wished every day could be as good as this one, full of wonder, discovery and beauty.
I played around with the self timer on my camera, hoping to capture (or at least recreate) some of those dreamy moments.
I could’ve sat around there until it started getting dark, but didn’t much fancy dealing with the mosquitoes. Nor would it have been fair on my driver. We’d be back for Angkor Wat itself the next day anyway.
We chatted while he drove us back into town, and I flicked through the photos on my digital camera, deleting any blurry ones to clear more memory space.
It was just starting to get dark when he pulled up at the guesthouse (and those mosquitoes weren’t fucking around! I was covered in bites by the time we stopped) and I asked what time we should meet in the morning.
“4:30”.
Four fucking thirty?! I wanted to turn up and watch the sunrise, not set up a campsite and cook a full English before the sun arrived.
He insisted though, leave at 4:30 to get in ahead of the crowd, and get a good spot.
I trusted his judgement, and promised him I wouldn’t go out partying that night. I gave him my room number so that he could ask the staff to wake me up in case I didn’t show up in the morning.
I figured I’d best be true to my word and have an early night, so dumped my bag upstairs, put the batteries from my digital camera on charge and went straight back out to get dinner.
I avoided Pub Street and instead went to a little backpacker restaurant closer to the guesthouse, treating myself to a pizza but deciding against trying out one of the infamous ‘happy’ pizzas that were so prominent on a lot of menus in town. A couple of beers would be more than enough to help me off to sleep after a long day on my feet and in the sun.
4:15am, my alarm goes off.
4:15am!! The last time I was awake at 4:15am was only a week or so ago, but I was about three quarters of the way through an obscene night of drinking.
Very much sober this time, but probably struggling a bit more.
My driver was waiting outside as promised, and I asked him to stop by a convenience store along the way so I could buy an iced coffee. I needed it if I was going to make it through the morning.
This time there was a much bigger chill hitting my skin as we drove down the forested road towards Angkor. I got goosebumps as we picked up a bit of speed, and shivered a little from that combination of cold air and being awake several hours earlier than my body expected to be. A sensation I usually only associate with early morning flights, but this promised to be so much more special than a 6am Jetstar plane to Sydney.
In the dark the sheer size of Angkor Wat wasn’t immediately obvious. It looked much bigger than anywhere we’d been the day before, but I couldn’t see just how big.
The driver led me up the footpath from where we parked and told me where he thought was the best place to stand and watch, then pointed out the noodle stand where I could go and find him once I was done. It would be several hours until I saw him again.
I was standing for around half an hour before the sky really started to lighten, during which time the crowds had really rolled in. I knew why we left when we did - I had prime position at the front of this mass of people to watch and take photos unobscured by heads in front of me.
And what a sight it was. Everyone should watch the sunrise over Angkor Wat once in their lives. I hope I get to do it again one day. We all stood and watched the show until the morning sun was high in the sky and blindingly bright.
I was a little concerned that so many people there would mean exploring the temple itself once the sun was up would be a bit disappointing, but in thinking that I had seriously underestimated just how insanely huge it is.
There were hundreds, possibly a couple of thousands of people huddled up watching that sunrise, yet once I walked across and started wandering through the temple I often had entire corridors or sections all to myself.
I doubt there’s anything I can say about Angkor that someone else hasn’t already done so 10x better, so all I’ll say is that it took my breath away. I spent the whole morning there, maybe 4 or 5 hours and barely scratched the surface. I’d have loved to have gone back for the afternoon as well to be honest, but had a tight schedule to keep to and a few other spots I was keen to see.
I went and found my driver at the food stand he’d told me he’d wait at, and bought an overpriced plate of instant noodles for breakfast.
Back in the tuk tuk, and it was Bayon next. The temple covered in hundreds of iconic, smiling faces. In any other location it would probably enjoy a bit more fame with its unique appearance, but here it is just one of many incredible sites. I wandered for a while, gradually realising that it was more crowded than any other temple site I’d been to and feeling a little disappointed for it after having chunks of Angkor Wat all to myself earlier in the day.
Still, I clambered around its entirety and snapped plenty of photos before returning to my driver once more. We had one site left before calling it a day and it was one I’d been particularly looking forward to.
I’m not a fan of the Tomb Raider games or movies - I’ve never played or watched either - but nonetheless knew about Wat Ta Phrom, having been made significantly more famous thanks to scenes filmed there for the movie starring Angelina Jolie.
It is known as the temple site that has been reclaimed by the jungle, as huge trees have sprouted up through the walls, roots spilling out all over the algae covered building and piles of rubble displaced by the growth have all created a unique and very photogenic aesthetic. One I am absolutely a sucker for.
I spent ages here, going back on myself numerous times to gawk at the outrageously large tree trunks dwarfing the walls, taking my time to soak it all up knowing full well I wouldn’t be back for a long time, if at all. Just as at my last stop on previous day, the late afternoon sunshine just seemed to make it that little bit more magical. I lingered as much as I can before reluctantly walking back to my driver, not wanting my time at Angkor to end.
Unsurprisingly I was well and truly exhausted that evening. After bidding my tuk tuk driver farewell outside the guesthouse, I made my way straight to a booking office down the street to sort out a bus to Bangkok for the next morning. There were now just 9 days until my flight home, and I had plenty I still wanted to do in Thailand before then.
I had dinner and a drink or two on pub street before strolling through the market and riverside one last time, and turned in for an early night.
After such an early start and with a long travel day ahead, I needed it.