Our bargain for this morning; daddy will wake up and see if its going to be a good sunrise, if yes, daddy will wake everyone else and we'll go watch sunrise at Angkor Wat. If no, the girls will sleep-in and daddy will go to Bayon by himself for some more photos and quiet reflection time.

Same sunrise as the last 2 days...100% cloud cover. Girls get to sleep in.

Even with planning our initial trip to Bayon during the non-peak visitor hours we were still there with several hundred other people and it was very hard to get photos without other people in them (even though we managed pretty well). Not so this morning. There is 1 other tuk tuk and a single bicycle in the parking lot when I arrive. This place was built as a place of reflection and thought; as witnessed by the the 54 towers representing the 54 provinces of the Khmer Kingdom (each is sized differently, depicting the size or strength of that province), the 4 faces on each tower represent the 4 states of Buddhism; charity, compassion, equanimity, and sympathy, and the bas reliefs on the outer walls show the daily life of commons as well as historic recounts of battles with the Cham. This temple more than any other tells the story of the lives and people of the Khmer Empire. If you sit and look at the faces long enough (with no distractions, like noisy tourists) they almost come alive. Its a peaceful, quite place before the hordes arrive to trample all over it. When there aren't any other people here, the damage the tourists are doing to the temple are evident...its made of soft sandstone and wasn't intended for 3 million people a year to walk all over it, its seems the visitors feet have worn away as much of the sandstone in the last 20 years as the wind and water did in the previous 800. I was able to get some fantastic photos in the hour that I shared the temple with just a few other guests who came to experience like I did, as it was intended. As I climbed back into my tuk tuk, I was a bit sad to see the bus loads of tourists swarming the entrance, the tuk tuks and taxis sputtering fumes, and the elephants arriving for another day of touting people around the asphalt driveway. The Cambodian government will have to change something to protect its treasures if they want them to last another century.

Back at the hotel, I have to bargain my tuk tuk driver down from $15 for our hour visit and 2 way drive, we settle at $9, and I'm a little upset that it cost even that much. This country has definitely become expensive due to the mass inflows of tourist money.

Get the girls up, have breakfast, and head to town for some shopping. We're tuk tuk pros again, it didn't take us long to get back in the swing of things and have figured out how to load up MD, stroller, backpack, and ourselves quickly (the hotel has dedicated tuk tuks right out front and they are the same price as the ones you catch in town to come back to the hotel, so its a good deal). We've heard that Artisans Angkor is the best quality crafts in town, so we start our day there. Its getting harder and harder to find "the real"...the cobweb covered art used to cover a hole in the wall in the back of a shop selling tourists goods, the 80 year old woodworker laboring in his small workshop on the side of his house, the artisan pottery maker firing pots in his hand built kiln...those are the things we look for. There is a sales pitch is Asia that you hear no matter where you go, "hand made", and no doubt the things are handmade, but by 1 pair of hands or 20 in an assembly line style? As we tour the different workshops of Artisan Angkor, its a mix of 'the real' and the assembly line, but the art is top notch, AND many of the craftsmen/women have disabilities of one sort or another; deaf, mute, deformed limb, lame, etc. Each art group (woodworkers, stone workers, bronze workers, lacquerware) have their own shop and are comprised of 3-8 people, most have been employeed there for over 10 years. We probably wouldn't have bought from them had we just entered the store without taking the tour of the workshops, but because of the personal feel of sitting next to a worker as they sanded a wood carving and considering that this place actively recruits and employees people with disabilities; its a good buy (plus, we see the art being made here, in the market, there's no telling if it comes from a factory in China or someone's backyard).

So after buying some really exquisite art and unsuccessfully attempting to negotiate the shipping costs, we head into to town to the market for some more. Along the way, and keeping with tradition, I stop into a street food stall and sample some of the local fare. He's just getting fired up for the day so I have to wait a few minutes for the meat to finish cooking...and its well worth the wait, its amazing what 50 cents can buy you in the right place. Little bbq sausages stuffed with garlic on a crusty bun with hot mustard and sweet, Cambodian cole slaw...superb!

Into the market, we've been here already but its worth one more look. Unfortunately, much of the goods the same from stall to stall and nothing is really that eye catching. I suppose if it were your first trip to SE Asia there would be lots to buy, but not for us. Maclaren continues here charming ways, throwing a tantrum for us and smiling and posing for the locals. Inside the markets the hot, still air is a stifling mix of body odor, dried fish, cooking food, musty old smell, and sweat. Only a dedicated shopper lasts very long; our strategy is to work our way all the way across an aisle from one side to the other without deviating down side aisles, once you get out the other side, grab a couple minutes of "fresh air" (smoggy street air) as you walk down the sidewalk to the next hallway. Repeat. The markets are almost always (The Grand Bazaar in Istanbul being the exception) laid out in a grid pattern, 2 stalls wide; so this method lets you see every stall without doubling back on stalls you've already seen and keeps you from dying from the smelly air. After picking up a mask, tshirt, and few other nicknacks (we're disappointed in the product selection and prices), we head back to the hotel for some R&R.

Decidedly Maclaren's favorite thing to do on this trip is throw the landscaping rocks into the pool...so we turn her loose on it...to the tune of about 200 rocks. Its not a big deal though, we're the only ones in the pool and daddy gets to scoop them out as MD and Momma dry off and get ready for our 4th flight of this trip.

At the airport, they change the boarding gate on us without making an effective announcement, so its not until we hear "last call for Vietnam Airlines to Da Nang" that I realize we're about to miss our flight...great, Heather just went to the bathroom! So I decide to load up MD and our carry-ons and go to the gate to delay the flight, Heather's going to think I left her when she comes back! Luckily though, an airport employee found her on the way back and told her what gate to go to, so she walked up right as we did. For some reason, all of our flights seem to be out on the tarmac so we have to walk about a 1/4 out to the plane...while the engine is running! Not safe for your ears. Heather and I are taking bets on wether they'll get the gate checked stroller right this time...unfortunately both of us are betting against them, so its no much fun.

And FINALLY, we get to experience the famous Cambodian sunset...where was this the last 3 nights? I'm surprise the airplane doesn't roll over, all the passengers are pressed up against the windows on the West side looking at the sunset. AWESOME! Maclaren screams bloody murder the whole last 20 minutes of the flight, we get a few stink eyes, and I give them right back. At landing, they didn't get the gate check stroller right, but I'm not carrying my now sleeping baby for the next 40 minutes...in no uncertain terms I let the Captain of the plane, 2 stewardesses, and 3 or 4 ground crew members know that I'm not getting on the bus without the stroller...march your happy self up inside that plane and get me my friggin' stroller!!! That resolved, the rest of the airport experience is easy and we're in a van on the way to our beach hotel.

Heather is feeling progressively worse, so with some difficulty I relay to the driver that we need to go to the pharmacy. It's a small detour off the main road, and when we arrive the old Vietnamese lady speaks no English and our driver has about 10 words, so the lady passes us a laminated piece of paper that has every ailment you could imagine written in English and its Vietnamese translation next to it. So after pointing to a few ailments the lady goes about rummaging through her cabinets and pulling tabs out of boxes, her instructions are given in sign language with a point to the medicine, put it in your mouth, drink eater and pat your chest to swallow, followed by 2 fingers held up for twice a day. She wants 500,000 dong for the medicine ($25) and Heather is feeling so bad I don't even bother to negotiate. On to the hotel and to sleep.