We are so fucking cool...
And then we arrived in Siem Reap. It's a little smaller and dustier than the capitol, and because we were there in the low season, a bit more mellow. We (along with everyone else) were there to see Angkor Wat and to try out some of the local cuisine at this chi-chi restaurant called Meric. One evoked awe and glory and one was a total fucking disappointment. I'm sure you can guess.
We arrived in the afternoon at another bitchin' hotel. The Golden Banana is more casual and has fabulous pretty Cambodian gay boys to attend to your every need. Our room was a two story affair with a balcony and a cocoon chair on the first floor. Stev told me they're called papasans, but why the hell would you name it something lame like that? Cocoon chair it is. The second floor had an airy bedroom complete with geckos.
What's also great about hotels here are the mini-bars. Beers are a dollar! Water's free! But champagne's still like forty bucks (damn.)
We got unstinky from the bus ride (I managed to douse my lap with beer during hour two of the six hour bus ride) and splashed about in the pool. I tried out for an Agkor beer ad but the focus groups said I looked too ethnic. And fat.
We watched some old dude try to put the moves on a younger man, which he totally scared off.
I would've played it like this.
"Hey."
"Hey."
"Nice backstroke."
"Thanks."
"Yeah. So, I've got this mini-bar. I think I got the deluxe sweet cuz it has all this booze and Pringles and uh.... a cheeseburger."
"A cheeseburger! No shit?"
"Yeah, totally. Wanna check it out?"
"Yeah, let me just get out of these swim trunks and grab my jean-"
"Aw, don't bother. C'mon"
We headed into town and strolled about. We wanted to try some local food, but were too tired to get adventurous, so we stopped in at.... a Mexican restaurant! Yay, my people! Actually, no. It was just some Cambodians who know how to make good taquitos, with fresh corn tortillas! We both ate eight. While we were enjoying our dollar margaritas, this little eight year old kid came up to us and started charming the pants off of us (not literally, it wasn't THAT kind of tour). 'Ben' used all his charm, wit, and mad English skillz to sell us some useless shit. Stevhan apparently has a newfound interest in the Khmer Rouge, as he bought three photocopied books about them (ten dollars!). Ben is probably the suavest guy in town and we invited him to join us for taquitos but he declined, saying he had his wife and kids to feed.
Then we headed to Angkor What? (Get it! What! WHAT! Hi-larious...), which seems to be backpacker central. For those who have done a bit of travelling, I'm sure you've noticed the difference between fellow travelers. There's the fun, mellow backpacker seeking out interesting experiences, making five-minute friends over beers, exchanging info and wacky stories. Then there are the fucking idiots who are too goddamn insufferable to put up with in their own country, so they have to go somewhere else and terrorize the locals with long-winded stories about their skeevy sexual escapades and the local economy. There were many times I wanted to throw my hot pho on some douchebag ex-pat's face or cut off their lips. But this was not one of those times. We did a couple shots of whiskey, checked out the kids in the bar, and then went back to our hotel for a midnight swim. (Note: It is very easy to go skinny dipping in Cambodian pools, especially when they turn the lights out and you've had two whiskeys and beer.)
The next day, we took off at 5am for a sunrise tour of Angkor Wat, the main temple.
And so did everyone else.
It would've been a lot more awesome if there hadn't been a huge crowd, or if we had our OWN personal hot air balloon,
but still it was fairly quiet. It wasn't a spectacular, dazzling sunrise, but more like a lovely, creeping pink dawn.
It was nice and cool in the morning, and even though there were people everywhere, there were still a couple of solitary nooks and crannies.
We meandered about and came across our simian brothers and sisters. One monkey was examining his balls so intently, we were sure he had come across some sort of treasure... or a snack.
We also came across a horse who kicked me when I tried to get a closer shot. I bought him for $20 and then had him slaughtered.
Then we ate our breakfast at one of the nearby breakfast tents.
We had some fucking awesome banana pancakes that were so goddamn fluffy and light,
(they don't look like much, but trust me: goodness.)
along with some delicious iced coffee.
We were serenaded by Buddhist monks and their chainsaw as they sawed away at a trunk.
Afterwards, we went to another temple,
found this awesome tree,
and discovered the dreaded Angkorsaurus!! (name courtesy of Stevhan's fertile imagination)
Legend has it the evil Angkorsaurus ate all the Khmer kings and now lives at the bottom of the Tonle Sap lake, digesting. That's what I like to think anyway.
There was an assortment of mythical creatures hanging about. I know this one is the dreaded Naga!
I don't know who this is...
We also found this mischievious fellow.
We don't know what mythical creature he is, but we did notice his tiny penis.
And this is Stev looking shy next to a lovely Apsara, who came from the Sea of Churning Milk. Sexy....
Seeing all that ancient glory really wipes you out, so we headed back for a nap and swimming. There was a cute little two-year-old hanging out. He had hidden orange slices in his little underpants and would pull them out for a midday snack. Later he tried to throw rocks at me. I fell in love with him.
That evening, we headed to Meric at Hotel De La Paix for a luxurious meal. I was pretty stoked about going. I had read about head chef Joannes Riviere, about how he immersed himself in Khmer culture, learning the language and publishing the only French language Khmer cookbook. I was ready to be amazed, especially since I'd been kind of shying away from the food stalls. Fermented fish paste ain't really my thing.
We decided against the swinging bed table thingies cuz we're whores for air conditioning. I was all set to try to the Khmer tasting menu (they also had a regular Western menu), but the more I browsed, the less appetizing the menu items seemed. I decided on one thing from the Khmer side (a sort of chicken lime soup) and a main course from the Western menu.We started off with Foie Gras Terrine on roasted mango and walnut crumble. I got the Lamb Loin and Garlic Confit and Stev got Grilled King Prawns with pan-fried gnocchi.
It was....alright. The starter was pretty good, but I wasn't amazed by the rest of the meal and really, I think I'm just not into Khmer flavors and spices. But even our Western dishes, which should've been a cakewalk for a French-trained chef were...eh! For a fancy-ass restaurant, I was expecting stellar. The $100 bill, which is two or three times the amount a Cambodian earns in one month, added to my guilt and bad mood. Man, we should've gone back to the Mexican joint. Or tried some Khmer food at a cheaper place. That's what I get for being stuck up. Lesson learned.
And lo, the next day we went forth through the mighty gate again to check out more of Angkor Wat.
We noticed all the headless and limbless statues and wondered how many fat bitches have pillaged loot decorating their hallways. Dicks.
I know, I know. I haven't been to specific with the names of places. Angkor Wat is the name of the complex where all the temples are, so I'll be damned if I can remember all of them. Yeah, I'm a jerk. And I'm not even gonna attempt to convey the majesty and crumbling grandeur and pulsating history that emantes from this place, so don't bother asking. Just work the extra shifts, scrape up enough for a holiday and get your ass over there before all the assholes ruin it.
We were heading back to Vietnam and I stopped by a food stall to pick up some sandwiches as a snack. I had been there the day before and Stev and I had both scarfed down beef sandwiches and they had been delicious. Stev turned his nose up at another and so I chowed down on two before the flight. Of course, I was extremely pissed when I saw that Siem Reap's airport had a DAIRY QUEEN, complete with hot dogs and Blizzards. Still, all was well ( I tried the local food, and so I am adventurous and fearless.) UNTIL! I was on the plane and my stomach wouldn't stop fussing. I tried to distract myself by reading the in-flight magazine's article on Scranton, Pennsylvania ("The Future Is Here, In Scranton"), but finally I reached for the barf bag.
Stevhan was a total gentleman. Instead of hissing in my ear, "I told you. You'll probably die of the yellow fever!!", he quietly rubbed my back and held the bag. It was rancid, friends. The smell actually made me barf a second time and Stev was looking a little peaked. There was a group of middle-aged French ladies watching, but I was too weak to give them the finger. Instead, I primly sealed the bag and wiped my mouth with a handi-wipe. A lady always steals a couple extra from a restaurant, for just such an emergency.
Jesus Cristos! I'm wiped out. This is gonna have to be a three parter, perhaps even four. I don't know, I DON'T KNOW!! Tommorrow, Hanoi and the rest of 'Nam....
