Hi all 

So, we left Phnom Penh (with great relief) and headed North to Siem Reap. Our original plan had been to spend three to four weeks in Cambodia, but by now we’d had enough and just wanted to get the hell out as quickly as possible. But first we had to see the ‘Eighth Wonder Of The World’, Angkor Wat.

We arrived in Siem reap to a rapturous welcome. There were between forty and fifty tuk tuk men yelling, shouting, pushing and pulling people as they got off the bus, all desperate to take us to our hotels. I found this hilarious and got really excited about getting down into the middle of it all. We’d already booked our hotel from Phnom Penh and they’d said they’d send someone to pick us up. As we watched the people in front of us get pulled left right and centre by the vociferous beasts, we disembarked cool and confident in our smugness. We were immediately set upon by half a dozen or so, but I simply stopped, put my hands up, smiled and raised my voice shouting (and I do mean shouting – I had to) ‘Everyone just step back. We’ve already booked our hotel and they’re sending someone to pick us up so you might as well leave us alone’. And it worked. They all just looked at me smiled and turned back to trying to lift other travellers onto their backs and carry them away to their waiting tuk tuks. I was amazed. I hadn’t thought this would work for one second and was only doing it for a bit of a laugh as much as anything. We pushed our way through the throng (pursued by one single tuk tuk man who made me promise that if my guy didn’t turn up then I’d go with him. He kept winking at me like it was a big secret but it just came across as really sleazy, like he was offering me his sister for a bottle of whiskey. I found it kind of endearing) to get to our bags and as I was picking them up a guy says to me ‘Mr Mitchell?’ ‘Yep’ ‘I’m your driver, your hotel sent me’.

Now alarm bells started to ring. Alright, this guy knew my name, but he was supposed to have a big card to hold up with my name on so I’d be able to see him, and he hadn’t used our hotel by name. I’ll be honest and say we didn’t really care too much, the mad scrum going on around us was getting more and more boisterous as the tourists got fewer and fewer (one guy had three different blokes pulling him and his backpack in different directions and was helplessly swaying from side to side, unable to move. I smiled at him and shouted ‘All the fun of the fair mate’, but he just looked at me panic stricken. Ah well. Some people just don’t know how to have fun). So I hoisted mine and Mand’s pack and headed out of the melee with tuk tuk bloke and when we finally broke free, I turned to find Mand nowhere around. I looked back and saw her struggling boldly through the crowd and getting absolutely nowhere. As I watched she was eventually stuck between the same bloke I’d just shouted at and about six tuk tuk men. It was like gridlock. No-one could actually move because everyone outside was pushing trying to get in to the feeding frenzy. I skirted the outside until I was close as I could get then just started shouting and shoving people out of the way until I could get hold of her hand and with me pulling and her using backpacker bloke as some kind of springboard, she eventually got free with an almost audible pop and we went back to where tuk tuk man was watching us with a mixture of mirth and amazement. And off we strolled to his tuk tuk.

As we went I told Mand of my misgivings but couldn’t work out how he’d got my name. It turns out she’d read in LP that sometimes people from the hotels in Phnom Penh phone their mates in Siem Reap and tell them the name of guests who’ll be arriving that day. Aha. There we go then. So we decided to play a little game and see how far he’d take us before he was forced to drop the charade. As we approached the tuk tuk, we could see it was beginning to trouble him, but he ploughed on nonetheless. Could he see our receipt for our booking? Sorry little man, we don’t have one. By now we were loading our stuff on the tuk tuk. ‘So I take you to hotel now?’ ‘Yes please’. By now we were sitting in the back. He starts the engine and gives us a nervous look. ‘What’s up?’ we ask as innocently as we can. ‘You do know where the hotel is don’t you?’ ‘Yes’ ‘Cool’ and we start talking random stuff to each other while tuk tuk man starts looking really really uncomfortable. After maybe 15 seconds he still hasn’t pulled away. ‘Everything ok?’ and then he’s forced to ask. ‘Which hotel?’ ‘Excuse me?’ ‘Which hotel are you going to?’ ‘Don’t YOU know?’ ‘No’ ‘But you said they sent you’ ‘They did’ ‘So take us to it’ ‘I don’t know which hotel’ ‘Take us to the one that asked you to pick us up’ ‘I don’t know which one that is’ ‘Do you work for them?’ Slight pause ‘Yes’ ‘Cool, then take us to the one you work for’ ‘I need to know the name of it’ ‘But you work for them, you must know’ Long pause. By now the driver of the tuk tuk next to us is smiling his head off and I give him a cheery wink. Our tuk tuk man is now sweating slightly. He decides to revert to type. ‘Which hotel are you staying at?’ ‘The one you work for, the one that told you to pick us up’ Sensing that this could go on forever and that the longer he stays here the more likely we are to see another tuk tuk man walking round with a sign saying Mitchell on it, he finally caves in. ‘I don’t come from the hotel’ ‘Fine can you take us to The Golden Angkor then please’. This is blatantly not the response he’s expecting and he kind of looks at us in disbelief. The tuk tuk man next to us laughs and says something in Cambodian to our man and he grins sheepishly, then smiles. ‘Golden Angkor. Number one or number two?’ he asks as he pulls away.

This is the slowest tuk tuk I’ve ever been in. If it topped more than ten miles an hour I’d be amazed. Elderly people were hobbling past us on walking sticks. But eventually we crawl into the hotel car park and disembark. Tuk tuk man tries his best to get us to sign him up for the week, but we’re having none of it. Even when he spiels us about how he’s only worked one day in the last month. Sorry fella. We tell him we’re not sure what it is we’ll be doing for the week but if he gives us his card we might give him a ring when we decide. Cool beans, and off he goes.

We check in and after some very minor haggling over the price of the room (‘Ok, this room is $20’ ‘No, this room is $10, we already sorted it before we left Phnom Penh’ ‘Ok’) we headed back downstairs for a beer. While we’re sitting there, a guy comes over holding a sign reading ‘Mitchell’. ‘Are you Mr Mitchell?’ ‘Yep. And you must be our tuk tuk driver from the bus station’. Beautiful. Turns out he’d been there all along and we just hadn’t seen him. Now that’s just not possible, cos we were looking from the moment the bus pulled in, to the moment the tuk tuk pulled out, and there wasn’t anyone holding up sign saying anything. But never mind. The guy’s name was Sokpha and after a long conversation about what it was we wanted to do in Siem Reap, he helped us plan our week and we hired him as our driver. Beautiful.I won’t go into the whole Angkor Wat thing on this postcard cos it could go on for years, but we did have a few cracking good nights out in Siem Reap. It’s really quite a vibrant, up and coming city with some really nice bars and a few really nice restaurants. One street known locally as bar street is quite simply that. A street of bars. And it was here that we found ourselves most evenings.

One of the evenings we went into a bar called Angkor What? (oh the humour of it) and as usual gravitated toward the pool table where a couple of likely lads were already playing. As I sat down, I noticed on the wall (it’s one of those ‘graffiti’ bars) that someone had written ‘Locks Heath Massive’. I laughingly pointed it out to Mand and made some crack about even here you can’t get away from the scummers. At which point one of the guys looks up at me in surprise and, in an Australian accent, asks where I’m from. Portsmouth came the obvious reply. Whereabouts? he asked with a huge grin. Paulsgrove, was the slightly puzzled response. ‘No way. My mate’s from Drayton. We work at Rock and Ski in Port Solent.’ Needless to say the night just got messier from that point on. We eventually hooked up with as mixed a bag of individuals as you are ever likely to meet. A couple of Canadians, a couple of Swiss, a German, a yank, a couple of brummie birds, and some others who I never did get to find out where they were from. Some English girl came over and confided in me that she was an accountant and that her boyfriend didn’t really understand her and did everything bar drag me off back to her place. Much to Mandy’s amusement. Or not as the case may be. We all sat round drinking and smoking spliffs until the big skinhead of a bar manager came over and told us in no uncertain terms that this was a no drugs bar.

I’d already pissed him off by ordering a pitcher of beer and then not having enough to pay for it. I was a massive 50 cents short. You’d think I’d w***ed on his shoes. He just kept going on and on about it to the point that I was getting ready to hit with the f***in jug. 50 cents. I mean. What the f***? Eventually, I swore a blood oath that I’d bring the money in tomorrow and he just glowered at me for the rest of the evening. By the time we left it was really starting to piss me off. When I did go back the following day I was going to give him a whole $1 and tell him to keep the change in my best sarcastic voice. But when I went in he was stood with a couple of girls and looked at me all magnanimously and told me not to worry about it. a*******.

On another night, we found a bar that gives you free popcorn. Constantly. All night. Until you leave or explode. Obviously we were in our element and the beer was 2 for $1 during Happy Hour. And every hour was Happy Hour. Fantastico. We got trashed and then headed back into Angkor What? to meet up with the two from Rock and Ski. The owner by now was talking to me like I was an old friend.

Sokhpa had been going on at us all week about going to see some traditional Cambodian dancing (Apsara) at a restaurant he knew. I mean, he’d really been going on about it. And also about some club that was the best club in Southeast Asia apparently. Eventually, we agreed, thinking it would be nice and romantic to sit and have dinner, watch some dancing, then go out and get absolutely trolleyed at a decent club. For his part, Sokpha was looking forward to gaining some serious commission and drinking free beer all night. Such a friendly guy. So off we go to the restaurant which just had tourist trap written all over it. It was huge. Outside there were perhaps forty tuk tuk men all stood around and it was pretty clear that this was the spot they all brought tourists to. Ok, no problem. We are tourists after all. In we went and I nearly s***. It was like walking into a massive school canteen. Hundreds of tables all laid out in rows, and a self service buffet style thing going on that just screamed sterility. And the noise was horrendous. Not quite the romantic atmospheric meal we were expecting. I was f***ing fuming. I mean ok, he has to make commission but to take us there? This is after we’d been with him for nearly a week so it’s not like he had no idea about what it was we were after. We sat down anyway and the guy brings over the drinks menu. How much is the buffet? $10. And how much for a beer? $4. So if we sit and eat and only drink one beer each this is going to cost us $28. Just to put that in perspective, most places offer two for one on beers at $1 each. We had eaten the night before til we were absolutely stuffed and had paid $6. And it was good food, brought to your table. Not some shabby buffet bulls***. So, $7 versus $28. I blew a gasket. I told the bloke no thanks and we left. When we got outside for the first time in South East Asia I really started to lose it. I shouted at Sokpha about why the f*** he’d brought us here and that he’d better take us somewhere else cos this was taking the piss. Highly embarrassed (it’s about the worst thing you can do to show anger, much less raise your voice) he muttered something about Apsara and I told him point blank that I didn’t give a f*** about Cambodian dancing and he’d better just take us to Bar Street where we could get good cheap food, good cheap beer, in a private setting. One of the restaurants down there even provided Apsara for free. I was livid. f***in robbing b******s. And unfortunately for him, he bore the brunt. There was a heavy silence for the first time all week as he took us and dropped us off at the end of Bar Street and told us he’d be waiting. We told him we’d be about half an hour, an hour tops and off we went to eat.

The meal was absolute gash. We’d been eating the local food all week and it had been absolutely lovely but this was abysmal. We finished eating (well, kind of. We actually sent back two thirds of it) and there was still no sign of the promised Apsara. Needless to say we were beginning to think that this was just going to be one of those nights that you end up writing off. So we sat for an extra three quarters of an hour and eventually three girls in traditional costume took the stage and began the dance. And the night took a turn for the better. They were superb. It’s all about the grace and muscle control again folks. Absolute quality.

I was still a bit pissed off at Sokpha, still hungry, and the thought of going to a club with mega expensive drinks so early in the evening really wasn’t helping my mood any, so we retired to our favourite bar to try and fill ourselves up on free popcorn and ridiculously cheap beer. Sweet. After a few, we started taking an interest in the ten or so Chinese people behind us who were sitting playing drinking games and were getting rowdier by the minute. And when they asked us if we wanted to joint hem, who were we to refuse? After the introductions (no idea before you ask) the game was explained to us and we were put onto opposite teams and began speaking Chinese and wiggling our butts whenever we thought it seemed appropriate. I have to say, I fared a lot better than Mand who was concentrating so hard on getting the words right (ishadoshi – not easy when your pissed) she somehow forgot how to count. Needless to say she was drunk within about ten minutes. The games progressed and we learnt two more games (all with Chinese commentary) then we taught them the Instrument game. The numbers swelled further as more Chinese people and one random German guy arrived and eventually there were around 18 of us all spouting pidgin Chinese, broken English (Mand at this point too), wiggling like our lives depended on it, and clapping our hands and miming various instruments.We kidnapped one of the little beggar boys who came round trying to get cash from us and spent a good fifteen minutes throwing him around and tickling him until he looked like he was going to be sick, then sent him back out onto the street to continue his trade with slightly less drunk people. That’ll learn him. By now, it had been about 5 hours since we’d dumped Sokpha (oops) and my attitude towards him had mellowed enough that it was time to hit the club. We tried to drag our Chinese friends with us, but they were truly buckled and with vague promises to meet up there again the following day they headed home and we headed off to see what all the fuss was about with this club.

Sokpha was back to his usual cheery self by the time we got back there and after a quick ‘sorry we’re late’ we were off to this huge club. And it was massive. On the way in they frisked Sokpha to make sure he wasn’t carrying any firearms but let me pass without comment. I took great offence to this – what, don’t I look mean and menacing? – and Mand gave me a tactical shove in the back to get me through the doors before I could tell the bouncers I was actually a deadly crazed mad dog assassin and was here to seek vengeance on the entire clubbing population of Siem Reap.

Inside, and off to the bar where we bought a bottle of Johnny Walker, 6 cans of the local Red Bull equivalent, and three glasses. Sweet. The music was just banging techno with nary a change in beat the whole time we were in there. If I had been anything approaching sober I’d have run a mile. The rest of the evening is just a series of snapshots. Telling some drunken aggressive local fella that no he couldn’t have any of my f***in Johnny Walker. Mand dancing on her own on the podium. A 6 foot 4 heavily bearded gay Septic telling me about all the drag competitions he’d been in (Me: Wow you race dragsters? Him: Not that kind of drag darling…). Me apologising to Sokpha for shouting at him earlier. Mand dancing with a couple of locals. The same local drunk coming back and me telling him to f*** off again, this time with the barman telling him if he didn’t go away the bouncers would make him go away. Mand gaining entrance to the ‘exclusive’ VIP area. Thunder talking some gay local and his western boyfriend by telling him how beautiful he was – hey it got me a peck on the cheek goodbye. The western boyfriend throwing serious dagger looks my way throughout the entire conversation. Drunkenly stagger dancing with Mand until she’d had enough and went to find someone with at least a semblance of rhythm. Then trying to dance with a couple of local girls who looked at me like I had 7 eyes and a large c*** hanging off my forehead. Then jumping into the tuk tuk outside with Sokpha swerving all over the road before depositing us back at the hotel.

We found out the next day that it’d been about 5.30 when we got in. And Mand was in bed for two days after with Red Bull poisoning. This is a condition which affects her (and me to a lesser extent) every time we drink local Red Bull. Symtoms include (but are not limited to) vomiting, cold sweats, hot sweats, not being able to eat, constant whining, an inability to move out of bed, and the desire to curl up in a duvet and watch films on cable all day. Not nice at all.

So that was about it for drunken nights out in Siem Reap. Sokpha incidentally got his own back on me for the shouting incident. We agreed in our very first conversation back at the hotel after we’d agreed the itinerary and everything, that he’d charge us $12 per day for 5 days. So, feeling a bit generous after he’d driven us the airport for our leaving flight we gave him $65. Imagine our surprise then when he told us that that’s was not enough and could we please give him $10 more. Because he’d driven a long way to take us to a couple of the further afield temples. Ignoring the fact that they were on the original itinerary we’d agreed upon. We just shook our heads and handed over the extra. f***in Cambodians are all c*** . Fact .The airport proved to be just as much of an arse ache.

Our bags were apparently too heavy and we had to pay $16 excess. We then had to pay a departure tax of $50 despite our tickets saying that all taxes had been paid for our flights. And that was our first and final impression of Cambodia. Getting robbed by a bunch of people who look at you like you’re vermin who somehow owe them all your money.

Still, next stop Malaysia where we’d booked into a five star hotel in Kuala Lumpur for some serious comfort, before heading down to the paradise islands of the Perhentians to meet up with the other three and have some serious r and r. Beautiful. 

Laters all

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