Just Ignore Him

I am a creature of habit. I think everyone is, to some degree, but I never realised how much I was until this trip to Cambodia. I’ve come to know my driver, Thy which is pronounced "Tea", and my guide, Tim. They feel familiar to me, and we’ve settled into a routine where they pick me up from the hotel in the morning, and we go about the day’s business. It’s the familiarity, the routine, and the feeling of safety with them that has made me feel so comfortable with them both.

They picked me up again this morning at 10:00am, and I wanted to take more notes for my book, so I asked Thy if he could take us for a drive through Angkor Park. It actually took considerably longer than I expected—over an hour—but I had the chance to pass by most of the temples. There are 11 in total, and some of them are incredibly imposing to look at. I don’t mean imposing in a negative way—they’re just so grand, and their sheer size dominates the landscape.

The hotel I’m staying at, the Borei Angkor, is fully booked at the moment because some bank employees were treated to a stay in Siem Reap by their employer. I know some of them participated in the marathon, which took place within Angkor Park. If anyone saw me now, carrying so much extra weight, they’d probably think it would be impossible for me to do a marathon—and right now, they’d be right. But I’ve had a secret goal to run the marathon at the base of Mt. Kilimanjaro in Tanzania, and now I’ve added the Angkor Park marathon to my list.

We took some photos of the official marathon paraphernalia and the finish line near the main temple.

After we left the park, I needed to go to the ATM, so we headed to the bank. Just before we drove into the car park, I noticed a sign for the marathon that I really liked. I quickly jumped out and took a photo of it. You can see it below.

The sign says, "Angkor Wat Indochine Marathon brings peace, friendship, and good health to all." I would really love to do it one day—let’s say before I turn fifty, which is just over six years away.

Something I find interesting when I’m in a new place is the graffiti. I know there are graffiti cultures all around the world, but I sometimes wonder: if these artists didn’t have any communication with each other or knowledge of how graffiti is done in other countries, would they still do it?

I saw two pieces of graffiti on the walls of some abandoned buildings. The first one looks a bit lewd, though I can’t quite make it out. The second one seems to have required a fair bit of talent to execute. Some graffiti is incredibly well done, and it’s a shame that such artistic expression can also cause damage to places and buildings.

I asked Tim if graffiti was illegal here in Cambodia, and he said it wasn’t—except in the temples. Still, I’m sure there must be some rules against it. Take a look below.

Being a creature of habit, I asked Thy to take us to the Nerk Restaurant, where we’ve been going almost daily for lunch. I ordered the same meal I have every day: pumpkin soup and vegetable Amok. After lunch, we headed to the supermarket, where I bought small bags of chocolate for the reception staff, whom I get along with really well. I bought six bags for them and two larger bags to keep in my room.

When we got back to the hotel, I handed out all six bags to the reception and door staff, but I realised I was one short. The young ladies' man I’ve previously mentioned in this blog was the one I left out, so I pretended I had bought him one of the larger bags. It probably looked a little suspicious, but he loved it, and they all seemed happy with their chocolates.

Thy dropped me back at the hotel for a couple of hours, and at 5:30 p.m., they picked me up again. We had planned to go to dinner and then visit the night markets, but I was still quite full from lunch. Instead, I asked Tim if we could just get a drink and wait for the night markets to open at 7:00pm.

There’s a street in the centre of Siem Reap called Pub Street, and below, you can see the entrance all lit up.

It’s the place where all the Westerners go, with plenty of restaurants, and I think there might be some clubs too, though I couldn’t really tell. Tim and I started walking down Pub Street, which is closed off to traffic, and you can see what it looks like along the road.

Tim mentioned he’d like to get something small to eat, and I thought I could go for something light as well, so we stopped at an Italian pizzeria-style place. I ordered macaroni and cheese, while Tim went for a big burger. You can see him with it below.

There was a young roaming vendor trying to sell books to the people at the table next to us, but they weren’t interested. I noticed the books he was showing them and called him over. I ended up buying two books from him about the Khmer Rouge period because I thought they would be relevant for research for my own book.

After the boy left, he came back and showed me one of the ten-dollar notes I had given him. He asked, in Khmer, which Tim translated, if he could swap it over because he claimed it was damaged. It wasn’t, and the American man sitting at the table next to us said to just ignore him, claiming he was trying to swap counterfeit money. I had to ignore the boy, but I felt bad. Imagine someone saying, right in front of you, “Just ignore him.” The poor bugger was probably only trying to get $10 because he didn’t have enough to eat. But I’ve learned in life that you can’t save everyone, and so I did as the man suggested and ignored him, even though it didn’t sit right with me.

After we finished our food, we took a slow stroll toward the night markets. You can see the sign below.

The markets themselves turned out to be just a handful of stalls down a corridor. I was actually pretty disappointed.

I bought a couple of gift cards, and then we decided to leave. On the way back to Thy, who was waiting in the car, I took a photo of one of the fish tanks where people sit and let the fish pick away at the dead skin on their feet. Apparently, the fish also provide a sort of massage.

The Florist's Dogs

I woke up this morning with a plan to go to a shooting range and take some shooting lessons, but when it was time to leave the hotel, I had changed my mind. I don’t like guns; they represent violence and aggression, and they are also incredibly phallic objects. Instead, I asked Thy and Tim if they could take me to another flower shop we had discovered during our travels. The shop is called Flower Story by Max, and below, you can see the exterior of the establishment.

As we walked into the shop, we were greeted by Max himself, who seemed like a lively and colorful character. He showed us the fridges where the fresh flowers are kept, while the front of the store showcased all of his stock, as you can see below.

I wanted to buy a bouquet of flowers for Tim's wife, so I chose the blue arrangement you can just see above. Below, you can see Tim holding them, ready to take them home to her.

I asked Max what kind of flowers they were, and he didn’t know, but he mentioned they were from China. I think he’s a bit like me—I love flowers but don’t know all their names. Before we left, I asked Max if I could take a photo of him with his two dogs. In the first photo, it looks like Max either has his eyes shut or is looking intently at one of the dogs, while in the second photo, the dog looks very comfortable and relaxed.

I had asked Max if I could take photos of him with his dogs because, while our morning plan was to go shooting, the afternoon plan was to drive a little way into the countryside and take photos of street dogs, which I absolutely adore. There is a huge difference between the street dogs and the florist's two dogs. First of all, I think the florist’s dogs are purebred, whereas the street dogs seem to be a mix of everything. I also imagine the florist’s dogs have an abundance of food and resources, like toys and extra shelter, likely thanks to the income their owner makes from his shop. On the other hand, the street dogs may not have as much material luck, but I can’t help wondering if they might be happier in their own way.

We drove out of town a little in search of some street dogs, and it was funny how, when we weren’t looking for them, they seemed to be everywhere. Now that we wanted to find them, we were struggling to spot any. Thy pulled up in front of a house on stilts, where a woman had three dogs wandering around her front yard. Tim asked if I could take some photos, and she kindly said yes, but as soon as I approached the dogs, they ran away. I did manage to get a sneaky shot of a beautiful boy who had been napping until I crept up on him.

We looked for the other dogs, but they must have been hiding from us, so we moved on to try and find more. We eventually ended up at a local Khmer café, where I managed to take a photo of this thoughtful fellow just before he got up and left as well.

If you take a look at the dog above, he seems as if he’s dreaming of something, yearning for something. I think these street dogs are happy in their own way—they get scraps of food and no doubt form bonds with all sorts of humans. I imagine they play harder and love harder than the florist’s dogs. But there’s an angst about them, a longing. Whatever it is, I’m drawn to it, and I love it.

Our next stop was a Buddhist monastery, or pagoda, where it’s known there are many dogs. We saw plenty of them, as well as many monks. I didn’t take any photos of the monks, even though Tim said I could. It felt kind of voyeuristic to take photos of them in their own home. I did, however, watch one monk take a big plate of rice and bits of food, dividing it into two bowls for two different dogs. You can see them below.

Before we left the pagoda, we discovered that they didn’t just have dogs—they also had a whole lot of cats and kittens. I managed to take these absolutely adorable photos of Tim with one of the older kittens.

I also took these cheeky snaps of some very mischievous little kittens. However, the last one looks quite sick, and I truly hope it receives some medical attention soon.

Throughout my experiences with pets, we had three purebred Kelpies growing up—all at different times, but from the same bloodline. My dad named the first one "Danny." The second, he called "Louie," but Louie was too rambunctious for our family, so he was sent to a friend’s farm. I later found out he was shot dead almost as soon as he got there, and all that time, I had envisioned him as a working farm dog. The third Kelpie my dad named "Danny" again, which I thought was a very sweet tribute to the first one. The first and last Danny dogs both had gentle temperaments and were great guard dogs. My dad absolutely loved them, and I know he was devastated when each had to be put down. I was especially upset when the last one passed because he was my mate too.

As for cats, we had one when I was very young—a black cat named Tom. I can’t remember much about him, just his name. We didn’t have cats again for a long time until about 25 years ago, when we got a purebred Burmese cat named Daisy. Daisy was pretentious and arrogant, but I don’t think that was due to her breed—more just her nature. She was put down in 2011.

But it’s the two cats my mum and I have now that have made me the happiest I’ve ever been with companion animals. I got Chloe from the Animal Welfare League about seven years ago. I picked her out of the crowd and knew immediately she was the one. She’s a tabby alley cat, and I absolutely love her. She was my cat at first, but then she became obsessed with Mum and would follow her around—until Charli came into the picture.

We met Charli about a year and a half ago. We used to leave biscuits outside for Chloe, and Charli started coming to our house to eat them. At first, she would run away whenever we approached her, but gradually, she began to trust us. We started feeding her meat, and eventually, she even came inside. Now she spends most of her time indoors, sleeps on Mum’s bed every night, and we love her just as much as we love Chloe.

Chloe and Charli fight a lot, and Charli has, in some ways, taken Chloe’s place, but I think deep down, they like each other. I love that Chloe is a tabby alley cat and Charli was a stray. They’ve turned out to be the best cats—and pets—we’ve ever had. Sometimes I think they do have a bit of the devil in them, but overall, they are gentle and calm.

I know this might sound crazy, but sometimes I think I’m like an alley cat—bouncing from place to place, trying to find a home. And the thing is, I came from a very good pedigree; it just didn’t seem to pass on to me somehow.

On the way back to the hotel, I noticed what looked like a market stall selling flowers. We stopped the car, and Tim and I got out to take a closer look. It turned out they were indeed selling flowers, and I found myself liking this stall even more than both of the flower shops we had visited. It had that authentic local market vibe that felt so much more alive and charming. Below, you can see some photos.

I bought a bunch of flowers for Thy’s wife, which cost me just $2, a stark contrast to the $25 I paid for the blue flowers from Max’s Flower Story.

I got back to the hotel early today and spent the evening re-reading my notes, sorting through my photos, and looking forward to what tomorrow might bring.

Elephant Walk

Thy and Tim picked me up this morning at 11:20am, and we began an hour-long drive to the Kulen Elephant Forest. There is a bus that leaves town in both the morning and the afternoon to take guests out there, but I wanted Tim to come on the tour with me, so we decided to have Thy drive us. I had absolutely no idea what to expect—only that we were going to an elephant sanctuary.

I loved driving through the countryside. There were lots of dogs, each with its own personality. The thing about these dogs is that they all look so sad and angsty. I don’t think it’s a reflection of how they’re treated; there’s just something about them.

When we arrived at the elephant sanctuary, we were told to get out of the car and walk down a long bamboo bridge that led to a hut equipped with a basic restaurant and couches where we could sit and wait. Tim and I were the first to arrive, so we sat down and talked until more people showed up.

A busload of people from town soon arrived at the forest. There were two sets of lounges, and Tim and I were sitting on one of them. When the new arrivals came through, they bypassed us completely and went to sit on the other lounges. It almost reminded me of my days at Saint Peter’s Girls, but I think they just did that because they weren’t sure who we were and probably didn’t want to intrude.

Our guide came out, introduced himself, and talked a bit about the sanctuary. There were ten elephants—nine female and one male. These elephants were retired from the tourism industry, where they had been used, particularly around the temples. They weren’t originally from the forests of Kulen Mountain, where we were, but the sanctuary had been set up for them there, and they thrived in this environment.

Altogether, there were around thirteen of us in the group. Before we got started, we were asked to sign a waiver. I quickly read through it; essentially, it stated that if an elephant killed you, it wasn’t their fault, or if you had a heart attack on the walk, that wasn’t their responsibility either. I signed it without hesitation.

The first activity was preparing food for the elephants. We made balls from a mixture of banana, sticky date pudding, and bran, while the guide cut up some pumpkins. Once everything was ready, we headed down the stairs into the sanctuary.

We walked along a small path leading to an open area where five elephants were waiting to be fed. After the guide gave us safety instructions, we all stepped forward and fed the elephants. Below, you can see our guide with the elephants in the feeding area, as well as Tim giving one of the elephants one of the food balls we made for them.

The idea of the tour was to feed the elephants and then walk with them through the forest. After the feeding was finished, we accompanied the elephants to one of the man-made pools. Below, I captured a photo of one of the handlers with his elephant, and you can also see the group walking behind one of them into the forest.

As we walked through the forest, Tim talked a lot about the plants—he’s so funny. He found a leaf he uses to create music by blowing on it, and he started playing a tune. All the Western tourists looked around in awe at him. He makes me laugh; he’s quite shy but also a bit of a showman.

I got chatting with a young Australian woman who was backpacking through Southeast Asia. We talked about how sad it was that two young Australian girls had recently died after drinking spiked cocktails in Laos. She mentioned that she hadn’t come across any other Australians in Cambodia and not many during her travels in Vietnam either. I was surprised to hear that. I haven’t interacted with many other travellers—just Thy and Tim—but I would have thought there’d be more Aussies in the backpacker scene.

Later, they set up afternoon tea for us on big wooden tables with flimsy wooden benches around them. The spot where we had afternoon tea was near one of the pools, and below you can see three of the elephants enjoying a swim.

After afternoon tea, the next activity was hosing down the elephants to help them prepare for their nightly routine. Below, you can see the Australian backpacker with one of the elephants.

We then said goodbye to the elephants as they were led into the jungle, and we made our way back to the hut.

As we said goodbye, Tim and I returned to the car, and Thy began driving us back toward the city. Something I was thinking about in the car was the elephant handlers, or "mahouts," as they are called in Khmer. I’ve noticed in life that certain people command a bit of a fan base or entourage. For example, my friend Mariah, who is an astronomer at the Planetarium, has people who gravitate toward her—not only because she’s the coolest chick I know but also because her job has a certain allure. Another man at the Planetarium is similar; he has people who look up to him and treat him like a bit of a rockstar. I’ve seen the same dynamic with some professors, particularly astrophysicists, and others in those kinds of fields.

It got me thinking—when circuses had lion tamers, I bet they attracted groupie types, too. Some of the mahouts were very attractive men, and they were directly engaging with the elephants. I couldn’t help but think that certain young women, in particular, would likely find that appealing.

When we got back to the city, I asked Thy if he could take me to Burger King for dinner. I know Burger King is the American version of Hungry Jack’s, and I was curious if I could get a Whopper. Luckily, Whoppers were on the menu, so I ordered a meal. Tim joined me, so I got him a Whopper meal too. 

Below, you can see a photo of the Burger King sign and Tim enjoying his Whopper.

Today was a very special day with these beautiful animals, who are being well cared for in their retirement. I loved every moment of spending time in the forest with Tim, who has an incredible knowledge of the plants, insects, and animals in the area.

Longest Circus Show

Today, I've had a quiet day, and I haven't been out with Thy and Tim yet. I woke up this morning and had a full-body massage, a hair treatment, and then a blow-dry, all at the spa here at the hotel. I then got a bajaj and went to the ATM and supermarket. I'm off to the circus tonight with Thy and Tim, and it's a little bit weird because I bought them tickets to the circus, but I am also paying for them to join me. There is something a little bit tragic about that, but I don't want to go alone, and it will be nice to have the company. 

It's nearly ten o'clock, and I just got back from the circus. On my way out to meet Thy and Tim, I bumped into Maky, my manager friend, and we chatted for a while. Thy and Tim came in, and I told Maky that we were going to the circus together. He seemed shocked, but I didn't mention that I was paying for them.

We drove through Siem Reap, and with all my daily adventures, I hadn't seen the city at night. It was beautiful, all lit up. We drove through the area where backpackers usually stay and Pub Street, which is the Western night spot. We arrived at the circus, and below you can see the big sign out the front.

I don't know if you can see it, but under that Guinness World Records sign, it says "Longest Circus Show." When I read that, I thought it would be a long night, but that must have been a specific challenge they participated in and, by the looks of things, won. We were led into an auditorium much like being under a real big top. I had given Thy the money to purchase our tickets, and he had obviously purchased the top of the range because we got a free metal drink bottle, and we were close to the front. I was glad we weren't in the front row, though, because I would hate being picked out of the crowd and pulled onto the stage.

I asked Tim if there were any animals in this circus, and he said no. I would have still gone to the show if there were, simply to see how they were being treated, but the vegan in me was relieved to know there weren't any. The show began, and they were all dancing around. The element of fire was brought into it pretty early on, and one of the company was a clown-type character, but the majority of the show involved work like handstands, backflips, people standing on top of each other, acrobatics, juggling, and even skipping with a rope that was on fire. It was incredibly professional, and I liked it a lot.

The only thing I didn't like was that the guy behind me had his foot significantly up my bum, and I felt so awkward. He was with a group of other younger guys, and I didn't know if he had done it on purpose and they were having a laugh at my expense, or if it was accidental. I was enjoying the show, but to be honest, most of the time I was trying to figure out how to wiggle my way out of that situation. Below, you can see some photos I took of the show.

After the show finished, we took a longer drive home so I could see the night markets and parts of town I hadn't seen before. When we arrived back at the hotel, I asked Thy how much he wanted me to pay him for tonight. He said, "It's up to you." I then told him I needed him to tell me, but he insisted I name the price. He said that tonight was different, and he couldn't say how much. I asked Tim, and his response was the same. I eventually got Thy to say how much he wanted, and he said $60. I have to admit I was a little bit disappointed he asked for so much because the show only went for an hour, but it was time away from their families, so I didn't say anything.

I said goodnight to them, walked into the hotel, and one of my mates from the front desk came up to me and started asking about my night. He usually walks me around the corner to the lift, and we have a good chat, but sometimes he is hard to understand. Tonight, I was a little bit dressed up, wearing a dress and makeup, which is different from what I usually wear during the day, and my mate said to me, "You look beautiful tonight." But I didn't understand what he said, so I replied, "Yes, I know," and then, as soon as I said that, I realised what he meant. I started laughing and saying, "No, no, I didn't mean that." We both had a good laugh about it.

I walked into an absolutely freezing cold room because I leave the air conditioner on to cool the room down, and it stays cool all night even after I've turned it off. I'm off to sleep now because I have a big day tomorrow. Goodnight.

White Privilege

Today, I feel a profound sense of sadness. I woke up this morning to a message on my phone from Maiki. He had traveled by bus from his home in Arusha, Tanzania, to Nairobi, the capital of Kenya, with the intention of catching a flight from Nairobi to meet me here in Siem Reap.

When I applied for my visa, it was very straightforward. I uploaded my itinerary, flight details, and hotel reservations to the Cambodian E-Visa system, and within two days, they responded with the requested tourist visa. Maiki had the exact same documents as me since I had booked his flight and our shared accommodation at the same travel agent. He uploaded them to the E-Visa system but received a notice asking for his bank statement for the past three months. He provided that, but the system then said it did not accept his flight or accommodation details—the exact same ones I had provided.

I emailed the Cambodian Department of Immigration and asked if someone could help us. The response I received was confusing, as the person clearly didn’t speak English well and asked for my bank account details. Thinking about it now, that could have also been fraudulent. But to put it simply, roadblocks were put up to prevent Maiki from obtaining his visa.

I asked Thy and Tim for help, and Thy said he had a friend in immigration at the airport who could assist Maiki in getting a visa on arrival. He also implied that extra financial encouragement in the form of a large tip could help. I spoke to Maiki about this, and even though he comes from a country where that sort of thing happens frequently, he doesn’t like it and sounded uneasy about it.

The message he sent me this morning said he wasn’t going to travel to Cambodia because if he had to be repatriated, he would face two years in jail, and he just couldn’t take that risk. I understood completely and wasn’t going to make him feel bad about his decision.

The truth is, I feel bad. Because I am white, and this is a classic example of white privilege.

I immediately contacted Phil Hoffman Travel and asked them to cancel his flight and see if they could get a partial refund. I managed to do that just in time, as they told me they would let me know when they find out how much the refund will be.

I have since spoken to Thy and Tim about this, and Tim has said it is because the Cambodian government doesn’t like certain nationalities. But I don’t think it’s the nationality—I think it’s the region. Africa. Black Africa.

There is no other way to describe this than to say my friend Maiki was treated like a second-rate citizen. When I was talking to him about this, I felt like he has been betrayed by a global society that harbours racial bias—a society that makes assumptions and perpetuates stereotypes.

I feel like the government of Cambodia, or any other country that treats certain people like this, assumes they are going to overstay their visa or attempt to work because of their socio-economic situation in the first place. But what about your average person? In Maiki’s case, a hard-working PhD student who has a bank account with sufficient funds to support himself and a life to go back to in Tanzania?

Like I said, he has been treated like a second-rate citizen. I think we all remember days when significant events in our lives have happened. Well, I will remember today as the day I was repulsed by myself for being white—for having been given preferential treatment over my friend, who is such a genuinely good and beautiful soul.

I am not a crier. For some reason, I don’t cry easily, but I have felt like crying all day because I keep thinking about my friend feeling that, because he is Tanzanian—because of who he is—he can’t visit another country.

I’m 43 years old, I’m going back to art school next year, and I’m trying to write my first novel. I want a quiet and peaceful life, earning just enough money to quietly travel the world. That’s all I want. But I do feel a sense of responsibility to use my letter-writing skills to draw attention to the enormous injustice that has happened to my friend.

Talking about art school, I went to the art school here in Siem Reap this morning. It's called Artisans Angkor, and when we arrived, I was met by a guide who said he would show me around. The way the school is set up is that young people between the ages of 18–25 can apply to get a free education with them. In order to be accepted, they must be chosen and then pass an exam. They are then trained by the school and guaranteed a job afterward. They do all sorts of things, like wood and stone carving, gilding, weaving, and painting. With the carving in particular, the pieces they were making are very time-consuming, some of them taking up to a week. Below, you can see some photos I took of students around the art school.

I was particularly interested in the gilding. I love gold leaf, and I have started experimenting with gold metal leaf on my tiny cranes, with the goal of eventually making them into jewellery. Below, you can see a beautiful statue that has been expertly gilded.

I had a great guide. I didn't catch his name, but he wasn't a student or an artist—he was exclusively a tour guide for the school. He told me it is his dream to be a tour guide for the temples like Tim, and I think he'd be really good at it. He had the gift of the gab and a cheeky grin. Below, you can see him.

After the art school, we went back to Angkor Park because there was a particular temple I wanted to explore. It is called Bayon Temple, and just like all the other temples in the area, its majesty is out of this world.

On the walls of Bayon, Tim pointed out a very special carving of some cranes. I told him how much I love cranes, and he said there was a possibility I could see some live ones here, and he would get back to me on that. Below, you can see these magical birds on the wall of a magical temple.

It was a relatively short tour of Bayon Temple, and after we had finished, we went back to Nerk Restaurant and had some lunch. While we were walking towards our usual table, I noticed a guide having lunch with the group of tourists he was looking after, and I was happy to see that.

After lunch, Tim and I went on a tour of the facilities at APOPO. APOPO is a Belgian non-governmental organisation and a U.S. non-profit that trains rats and dogs to detect landmines and tuberculosis. I never knew such a place existed, but this is a significant international organisation. The rats they train are southern giant pouched rats, and the dogs are technical survey dogs. The focus was on the rats, which they refer to as Hero Rats. It was such a coincidence that when she was talking about the rats, she mentioned they are trained in Tanzania! I would have loved for Maiki to be here to learn about these rats. Below, you can see photos of how the rats are on leads when looking for the mines, and how they are rewarded when they find one.

The handler bought the rat around to meet everyone.

Then we all got to hold a rat, and I took this beautiful photo of Tim with one.

As the guide was talking about how these rats are used in detecting landmines in Cambodia, I was thinking about what she was saying from the perspective of a vegan. I know they wouldn't like it. But the truth is, the rats are so light they couldn't set off a landmine, and they are treated like royalty, only working three hours a day in the early morning, five days a week. I formulated the opinion that this is one instance where I think humans have taken an incredibly intelligent animal and trained it to be of genuine and incredibly useful assistance to us. It is a collaboration, and I think it is effective, meaningful, and that APOPO is a very special organisation.