A procession of tuk tuks

Thursday 5 July

The experience you are advised not to miss is the sunrise over Angkor Wat, which is apparently spectacular.   So today I get up soon after 4.00 am, to be ready for the tuk tuk which will come at 5 am, to get us to Angkor Wat in time for the sunrise.  Reg gets up at the last minute to savour as much sleep as he can.

Our tuk tuk driver, called Lion,  tells us that Angkor Wat is not too crowded at this time of the year because it's the rainy season.  It has obviously rained hard in the night but is pleasantly warm now, despite being still dark.  Sunrise is expected at about 6.30 am.   As we leave the main streets of Siem Reap, and travel along a straight, flat, tree-lined boulevard towards Angkor Wat, we realise that we are part of a procession of tuk tuks, all making their way towards the Angkor Wat sunrise.  It could almost be a royal procession of some kind.

When we arrive at Angkor Wat, its the semi-light of just-before-dawn, we see the three turrets rising majestically towards the sky like giant pine cones; this monument has been described by some as the 8th wonder of the world.  As dawn gradually metamorphosises the sky, we realise that we aren't going to see sunrise today; it's too cloudy.  We're disappointed, but it's just one of those things.  As usual hawkers are about trying to sell us stuff.  A particularly smiley young woman asks us if we will come to  her restaurant for tea or coffee after the sunrise.

" I am number 3,"  she says.  "Please say you will come to my restaurant.  Tea, one dollar.  Coffee, one dollar."

"Ok," we give in, "we'll come."  Her open stall, which comprises a few tables and plastic chairs in front of a shack, is number 3 in a line of 6 numbered and similar "cafes".  Each hawker or cafe owner is competing against the others to get you to come to their establishment.   We have a very nice, boiling hot cup of Lipton's tea (black, as always) in good clean mugs.

It's difficult not to get frustrated and fed up with the hawkers constantly vying for your business, either selling a service such as food, or tea and coffee, or selling cheap goods.  But you have to remember that this is their living; they have to make money, as there is no social security system in Cambodia.  We sometimes buy small items, but usually have to say "No thank you", and we always try to do it with a smile.  This  works wonders, as Cambodians are generally really good natured, and will usually smile back at you and say,

"You come back later?  You buy later?"  They don't give up easily.  We've don't buy from children though as the government is trying to stamp out child labour.  Whichever way we play it, we end up feeling guilty because we have so much, and these Cambodian street hawkers have so little.

While drinking our tea at the Number 4 cafe, we get talking to an American aged 65 and his grown up son.  We share details of where we've travelled, and discover that the older man was a pilot in the Vietnam war.  He tells us something of his experience.

"Nearly 60,000 Americans died in the Vietnam War," he says.  "But  did you know that that same number again committed suicide afterwards? "

On  checking Wikipedia, this gentleman might be surprised to learn, as I was, that the figure is actually that 3 times as many Vietnam veterans have to date committed  suicide,  as compared to the number of American servicemen actually killed in the war itself.

Lion, our tuk tuk driver, will wait for us for as long as we want him to, but we told him we'd be about an hour and a half, and much of that time we've spent  talking to the 2 Americans.  We do a reasonably fleeting tour of Angkor Wat, and return to our tuk tuk.  A particular temple has been recommended to us, but it's some way out, off the beaten track.  We tell  Lion that we'd really like to see it, and are happy to pay him more if he can take us.  He's a very knowledgable, amiable man who speaks good English, and of course he's very happy to oblige us at the thought of a a larger fare for the journey.

We're really glad we asked to go to Banteay Srei.  We have a fascinating drive through the countryside,  and the temple at Banteay Srei has extraordinarily exquisite carvings, especially of faces.

Lion tells us that a few kilometres away from this monument is a waterfall on top of a mountain, at a place called Kbal Spean.  There are carvings in the river bed by the waterfall.  He asks if we'd be interested to go there - it involves about a 30 minute walk/climb up the mountain, for the most part shaded by trees, and some clambering over rocks and tree roots.  He reckons that most people who are reasonably fit should be able to manage it - I nearly add "even 60 year olds with creaky knees?" but don't like to.

Throwing caution to the wind, I nod to Reg and we say yes please, we'd like to see the waterfall.

"Would you like to stop for lunch afterwards?"asks Lion. 

So the promise of lunch will encourage us.   I didn't realise I would be climbing a mountain today and am wearing my sandals.  Reg is wearing his walking boots, which are a sensible choice for traipsing around monuments, and are also more suitable footwear for climbing mountains.

The mountain climb is moderately difficult but I'm doing well until I trip over a tree root and land on my chin, which bleeds profusely, though it's not a serious wound.  Thank goodness for paper tissues.  I feel slightly dizzy, but after a few minutes rest we continue our climb.

As we near the top of the mountain and the waterfall, there's a profusion of different varieties of vibrantly coloured butterflies; apparently these creatures love to be near the waterfall.  We reach our destination at last; a small waterfall at first, but after a few more minutes we walk down some steep steps to a cascading waterfall which you can walk underneath, or paddle in the clear water pools.  In soaring temperatures, it's no wonder that a young Australian woman, whom I later chat to, runs underneath the waterfall in her cotton dress.

"I'll soon dry out," she says.

I enjoy a paddle and we manage to descend the mountain without incident, the heat sticking our clothes  to our bodies.  After a great lunch (at a different set of cafes, number 4 this time) we tell Lion we've had enough for today and ask him to take us back to our hotel.  We get back to the hotel at about 5 pm; we've been out for 12 hours, since before dawn, and are exhausted.