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.