Feb 21 - On Wednesday morning we woke up at a slight loose end. We hadn't planned anything for today, but we were feeling slightly too weary to dive back into the temples for another go. Over breakfast, we pondered the map, and decided to head out to the silk farm, about 15km out of town. We thought briefly about cycling, but wisely decided against it, as it was a blazing hot day. Flagged down a tuk-tuk driver from the street and, keeping our heads low to avoid our stalker, shot out to see the Artisans d'Angkor silk setup.

We were shown around by a really friendly guide. First of all they took us around the plantations. The mulberry trees are kept heavily pruned, and only ever get to about knee-height. They grow varieties from all over Asia - India, Japan and China - with each variety producing silk of a different quality; they blend the leaves together in the right quantities to get the silkworms to produce consistently. The worms are bought as eggs from a central breeding lab, and then they're hatched in trays. They're fed in precise cycles, and grown right through to the cocoon stage, by the same handlers. Our guide reckoned that they're sensitive to body odour, and so they need to be raised by the same person for best results - although I'm not sure how realistic that sounds!

After they've pupated, they're sorted - about 20% get kept, and are allowed to hatch & breed more eggs. The rest are left out in the sun, which kills the larvae and bleaches the silk (harsh!). The cocoons then get turned into silk in a process that looks like it hasn't changed in the last few hundred years. The cocoons get boiled up, and the silk is dethreaded by hand (well, by a slightly bored looking woman with a wooden fork and a reel). Then it gets wound onto bobbins, with another set of people manually de-threading the knots. Finally, they get dyed, with a whole range of weird materials - including bamboo, flowers, rusty nails and cow poo! When the silk's ready to use, it gets wound into threads of the right length which are pre tie-dyed and then handwoven using a bizzarely complicated set of patterns on the old hand looms. It takes a weaver six months to learn how to weave a particular pattern, forget about making up a new one! Once they're up to speed, a single scarf can take four days to make by hand. We were taken through the rest of the factory, and then (no surprise!) shown out through the shop. They have some amazing stuff here, and we loaded up with a few more presents. (Must remember to go to the post office, as these are definately not going in my backpack!).

On the way back, we sat in the tuk-tuk and watched the world go by. Just like Vietnam, three out of four vehicles seem to be motorbikes acting as little self-contained businesses. Today was obviously market day, and we saw all sorts of produce and livestock go by - balanced precariously on two wheels, and sometimes obscuring the driver from view. One bike roared past us with three pigs on the back - trussed upside down, and kicking feebly, but with a set of leaves tied on to keep them slightly cool. Other drivers had handwoven racks or baskets attached to the back of their Hondas, carrying chickens, vegetables, or - in one case - eight live piglets!

We'd planned to go and see a shadow-puppet show tonight, and we asked our driver to stop off at the factory. It was a family run affair, with the puppets being made of hardened, dyed leather. They look quite ratty out in the open, but as soon as they're put behind a screen, and illuminated, the effect is quite amazing. The old lady who took us around gave us a little show, and I ended up buying a puppet of Hanuman, the monkey god, with articulated arms and legs (more things to post back before leaving Siem Reap!)

We got back in time for a quietish afternoon by the pool, and then headed off to La Noria guesthouse for dinner. They are affiliated with a charity (I've lost the name) who provide assistance or shelter for kids from poor families. We were all crammed in pretty tightly, and had to share a table, but the dinner was great. After we'd eaten, they began the show. This particular evening was carried out by players from the kids shelter, assisted by the hotel receptionist, who'd been taken in by the foundation ten years before.

The shadow puppet shows were great - they way they move around the stage is really effective. The plays were all in Khmer, but they provided an outline of each story before starting. The tales are pretty simple; here's an example - Two villagers meet in a field with their buffaloes. They make a bet [illegal in Cambodia] about who would win a fight. The woman's buffalo kills the man's, then runs away. He demands she buy him a new one, as his is dead. She demands the same, as hers is lost. They find a policeman to arbitrate, who arrests them both and sends them to jail for gambling. Crime doesn't pay ... you get the idea! Not exactly Shakespeare, but they gave it horns. Following the puppets, they had a series of traditional Khmer dances. Full of intricate moves, they were also quite something to watch. After the dancing, we headed home.

Thursday was our last day in Siem Reap, and we were expecting the passports back that afternoon. We decided to see some of the temples a little bit further out, and we'd gone for for an early start at Angkor Wat (for one more amazing sunrise), before heading out to Kbal Spean (the River of a Thousand Lingas) and also Banteay Srei. This was a long-ish haul on a dirt road, so we elected for a car, instead of a tuk-tuk.

Kbal Spean is basically a huge riverbed that has been carved out over a stretch of about 150 m. We had to climb about 1.5km up a steep-ish hill to get there, and the views over pristine jungle were great, event though is was a slightly hazy day. Signs on all sides warned us to stay on the path, as the area's still extensively mined. When you get to the riverhead, there are set of carvings of Vishnu and Shiva, a whole set of semi-submerged carvings of various gods, and also some large depicitions of cows & crocodiles, as well as an enormous frog. The river gets its name from the thousands of phallic columns (lingas) carved into the rock bed - which are meant to represent, you guessed it, penises! Or the 'Male Generative Principle', as the guidebook puts it. That's not to say that the Khmer society was completely male-focussed, though, as there are quite a few 'yonis' as well - stylised carvings reflecting the womb (and other bits!). We were shown around the site by an old veteran who couldn't speak English, but managed to make himself understood in any event... Cheryl reckoned that this was a school or workshop, because of the random nature of carvings here, and there could well be something to that - there didn't seem to be a overarching design to it apart from the lingas in the river, and some of the work was refined, some not so much - so maybe it was a student's practice ground.

The best thing about Kbal Spean was that we were the only people there. As we were leaving we passed a couple of other groups, and we turned back towards Siem Reap to head to Banteay Srei. Anyone coming out this way should definately make and effort to get out here, as it's great to get away from the crowds at the central temples for a bit. Banteay Srei was also cool. It's a bit like a child-sized temple, but the carving is fantastically intricate. Banteay Srei means "Temple of the Women", and there's a theory that women carved it all, accounting for both the stature and the quality of work! Some of the faces in the rock look almost alive, and the face-recognition software on my camera (it looks for faces in the frame) picked up most of them. We wandered round here for an hour or so, and then headed back.

On the way, we stopped at Aki Ra's landmine museum and foundation. Aki Ra was a KR child soldier - he picked up his first mine at the age of five, and was planting them by seven. His story, up on the walls of the museum, gives a strange insight into how normal his life in the Khmer Rouge must have seemed to him. After the war, he dedicated his life to clearing up mines, and there are pictures all over the place of him locating and disarming mines using some pretty rustic techniques - there's one showing him knocking off the detonator off a claymore with the back of a hand axe. He describes the disarming process in the wierdest way; "We'd find the mine using a shovel, then take the lid off and remove the explosive charge. Sometimes we'd burn it, sometimes we use it for fishing!" The mine display itself was pretty sobering (there were a couple of thousand mines from the stockpile that he's personally disarmed). I don't think I realised how small they are. The ones from Vietnam are about the size of a small can of tuna, and have a lethal range of 15m. They're still making them today, and there are a lot of countries (including the US) still committed to their use in certain circumstances. The foundation also provides accomodation, education and work for landmine victims, of which there are a lot in Cambodia. Hundreds of people are still injured or killed every year - I don't know what the answer is, as I guess there are many sides to issues of war and protection, but they're a pretty s***ty kind of weapon, designed to maim, and with no way of switching them off.

When we got back to the hotel, our passports had arrived (Phew!). We had a last supper (slightly unable to believe we'd been in Siem Reap for almost a week!) and packed, ready for an early-ish start the next day.