(As of 07/03/2011)
The three men sat and stared at me from the other side of the desk, eyes full of disgust. Their uniforms were sharply ironed and their boots immaculately polished; yet, amongst each of their worn down, haggard faces were eyes that told more than they wished would be revealed. They had seen it all before. They'd had this same conversation far more often than daily, but what could they do? There was a procedure and until everyone else had disappeared, nothing could be done. So instead they just sat there staring; clinging on to as much authority as they could retain. But from my view they had already forsaken that authority. They forsook it the moment they had decided to bend those rules that they enforced. The moment they had decided to charge that little bit more. A stamp here, a form there: 'how could a few extra dollars affect these guys?' they thought. What they didn't realise was that this guy didn't have any extra dollars. He was as powerless as them. They had a standstill on their hands, for now at least. It was hard for them to keep it up. Their uniforms, which would have looked daunting in most other situations, were undermined by the dilapidated wooden shack in which they were sat. They strove to appear menacing; instead they appeared as inept school boys. Thus, It hung there like the heaviest of White elephants until the last person was finally out of ear shot. Once gone, they asked me 'if you have no other dollars, what do you have?' I threw some unusable Korean change their way and they broke, stamped my form and let me go my own way. Easy as that. Maybe I'm more intimidating than I thought. I had crossed the border into Cambodia, a country with a turbulent history: centuries of war, mass genecide, corrupt governments... maybe arguing at the border wasn't the wisest move. Yet, what struck me when I first arrived in Phnom Penh was the warmth of it's people. You see, they were slow roasting over a garden grill... Well no, there were no such spectacular occurrences. As clockwork, disembarking from the bus, we were greeted by a stampede of hustling Tuk-tuk drivers and consequently each of us retreated from conversation and became stiffer than frozen poppets. Once we realised we actually needed a lift and began talking to them and it immediately became noticeable that they were more humble and humorous than their Laoation and Thai counterparts and moreover, their English was excellent. Retrospectively, this impressed us further a couple days later when visiting The Killing Fields. After being guided around by eye witnesses of the monstrous actions of the Khmer rouge, the local's positivity seemed amazing. They may unknowingly live alongside their vicious perpetrators, but boy do they make the most of it. The long bus journey the next day seemed by now as regular as noodle dinners. We headed for Siem Reap, riverside touristville and Market extravaganza... but most famous for it's ancient temples at Angkor Wat. The day began at 4.30. So after one day failing the complicated task of waking, we grabbed our bikes and rode through the darkness to watch Angkor Wat appear amongst the sunrise. Once the sun had rose, we continued to Angkor Thom - a maze of towering sculptures of faces where every corner unmasks something different. Not so much 2 faced, but it can definitely be taken at face value. After a few hours cycling under the heat of day we began to wish that sun would put on it's hat and glasses turn around and go back to bed as it's rays were making us sweatier than a blind man on a type-rope. At the end of the day, we dropped off our sweat soaked bikes and headed to pub street to begin our very own tour de dance. I wish I'd had longer.
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Samuel FryTraveller Archives
June 2011
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