Siem Reap, Cambodia:
Last night I really let my hair down by drinking two wines and two beers! This morning, naturally, I felt hungover. No, actually, that’s a bit of a lie; I didn’t feel hungover, I felt a little groggy. There’s a difference (but not by much).
Anyway, my new lightweight drinking status had rendered me incapable of partaking in anything remotely strenuous; and considering the last few days had involved nothing but walking and sightseeing (which really does knock the wind out of you sometimes), Germany, North Carolina, Dutchie and I collectively decided that we would spend the day doing pretty much nothing. And it was heaven.
Siem Reap was a place, I admit, I’d done absolutely no research on. I’d come to Cambodia with only a few intentions – Angkor Wat, The Killng Fields, and Volunteering (and maybe a beach or two slotted in there for good measure). Aside from this though, I didn’t really know what else I was going to occupy my time with. Pub Street was not a place I wanted to while away my hours in or spend any of my hard earned cash in (it reeked of backpacker tourism and hiked-up prices, and was the epicentre for drunken antics, petty theft, and unsolicited debauchery). And anything else worth seeing seemed to be located outside of the city centre which low and behold, would cost money to get to.
Now, I’m not for one minute saying that Cambodia is expensive, looking at the bigger picture, it really isn’t. However, it was more expensive than I’d bargained for and I didn’t want to fritter my money away on paying for sights or museums that I wasn’t too bothered by but felt obliged to visit just because I was there.
Yesterday I wrote about how everything costs just one dollar. And this still stood. But consider the following for a moment – the fact that the US Dollar is the preferred unit of currency over here instead of the Cambodian Reil (especially with and particularly for tourists), is very deceiving. I’m currently working in AUD and it’s difficult for me to get my head around the different currency rates and prices. For example, a tube of toothpaste (note: not Colgate or any other reputable brand) can cost 1.5 USD, which equates to around 2 AUD. A coffee can cost 2.5 USD which is around 3 AUD, and two apples from the supermarket can again cost 1.5 USD (2 AUD). This is basically the same price as I was paying Down Under! And when Angkor Wat charge 37 USD (47 AUD) for a one-day pass (which doesn’t even go to the Cambodian government by the way, it goes to Vietnam) and I could get a ticket to Tassie from Melbourne, or a return flight to Italy from Manchester for less than that, forgive me for not being too enthralled by the expense and covert corruption.
Despite my frugal calculations and Scrooge-like penny pinching, and my reluctance to part with any more than I needed to (I wasn’t about to pay 8 USD for a meal in a tourist restaurant full of westerners when I could get perfectly good street food for 2 USD and chat to the locals instead), I was still determined to enjoy myself. And enjoying myself didn’t necessarily have to mean getting blind drunk, seeing a load of over-crowded tourist sights, or spending money on overpriced tuk-tuk rides. Enjoying myself could mean taking some time to give my body, brain and soul a little TLC. And on this, my chosen day of rest, I did just that.
Lounging by the hostel pool (who said all backpacker hostels were disgusting dives, eh?), I spent the majority of the morning in a complete state of semi-recumbent idleness. The sun was shining, I’d slapped the factor 30 on, and I was ready to bring on the burn. And then it started raining.
Just like Vietnam, just like Laos, and just like pretty much every other country in South East Asia during July, Cambodia was in the beginnings of the wet season. Unlike Vang Vieng though (where the rain had been torrential), it didn’t seem to really last that long – sideways rain fell for around an hour or two and then seemed to drizzle off. It was manageable. And it was actually quite pleasant.
It was during the downpour then that I decided to do a little extra-curricular research (my sunbathing appeared to be over, my legs remaining milk bottle white for yet another day, and I had nothing better to do). Yesterday I’d resigned myself to the fact that I wasn’t able to afford any of the activities that the website Backstreet Academy offered, but I figured out that by some miraculous twist of fate, I could afford yoga. And seeing as I’d not done a single bit of exercise since before I left Broome, I thought it the perfect opportunity to kickstart my flow of energies and attempt to win back some of my physical fitness.
A fellow backpacker had recommended me Peace Cafe, a fair-trade, ethnic, vegetarian friendly centre around 2.5kms out of town. I googled the class program and then set off for my first yoga session in six months. I was very excited.
Peace Cafe is a lovely little venue that does exactly what it says on the tin – it makes you feel at peace. Set far enough away from the bustling crowds, it offers more than just yoga classes – it’s a cafe, restaurant, shop and wellness centre all in one. The Hatha yoga class I attended was lovely, a gentle hour and a half of asana postures that really helped to ease me back into the practice. And what made it even better – I was the only student in the class! I’d paid for a group class and had received my own private tutor instead. Brilliant.
Feeling all zen and in tune with my inner chakras (in other words, a little more relaxed than I had done previously), I made my way back to the hostel, passing by a wonderful pagoda and language school as I went. The Preah Promaeath Pagoda was very pretty but as I walked through the grounds, marvelling at the statues, taking in the magnificent images of deities and religious images, I decided to hastily make my exit. Not because I wasn’t fascinated by the architecture or design, but because of this: I’d seen so many temples and so many pagodas over the last few weeks that I was afraid I would temple myself out. And with Angkor Wat on the cards for tomorrow, I didn’t want the sole reason I’d come to Siem Reap to be a massive underwhelming disappointment.
So, with food on the brain, I grabbed some dollar noodles from a lovely street food vendor, had a chat with a 65 year old French ex-pat, picked up a 75 cent can of beer, and merrily made my way back to the hostel for what I hoped would be a food induced sleep coma!
Chasing Amy-Lou 