It’s now 1:47am on Saturday, the 3rd of January, and I am home safe and sound in Adelaide. I stopped writing this blog during my last few days in Cambodia. I couldn’t tell you why exactly, but I do want to share with you how I finished my trip.
To pick up where we left off, I had asked Tim and Thy if they could find an orphanage for us to visit. Tim had a contact who directed us to a small one just outside of town. There were around 45 children there, and when we arrived, the director took us to a hut where we sat down with some of the children and talked to them about their lives. You can see this below.
I wanted to visit an orphanage in Cambodia because I have an interest in orphanages from my time in Tanzania. I have been to a few there and learned about their operations, and the children were absolutely beautiful. Sometimes they sing for you and even show you around the place themselves. I gave the director $100 USD before we left. It was a modest donation, and I would have liked to give more, but that was what fit into my budget.
Another cool place I visited during my final days in Cambodia was a jewellery making workshop at a place called Ammo Jewellery. Their claim to fame is that they make jewellery out of bullets. Below, you can see the entrance to the studio.
I absolutely love Thy and Tim, both of them as a team. By the end of the trip, I had grown very fond of them—Tim in particular. The three of us had such a good time together, and even though I’ve only been back a few days, I already miss them.
On one of my last nights, we went out to dinner at a large buffet-style restaurant that featured nightly Cambodian dance performances. The dancers were beautiful—both the men and women. Below, you can see some photos I took of the dancers.
Thy didn’t charge me any extra to come to the dinner, which was good—I think we were finally settling into a good rhythm.
Something strange happened to me during the last week or so in Cambodia. I think I mentioned a younger man I referred to as a "ladies’ man," who worked at the front desk and surrounding area. I talked about how I imagined he might have had scandalous affairs with foreign guests. For the purposes of this blog, I’ll call him Phil.
Well, we developed this strange, intense bond. I actually thought something might happen between us—not that I know how it possibly could, given that the hotel would likely have strict rules about staff fraternising with guests. Regardless, we talked a lot and spent time together whenever it was possible while he was working. And the way he looked at me—it was so incredibly sexy.
I was wrong about his age; he’s 35 years old. I felt so old telling him I was 40, and I was also a liar because I’m actually 43. But I was very attracted to him. I don’t know what’s happening to me—more and more, I find myself attracted to men, even though I swore off them for good. If I had been in a position where something could have happened with Phil, I don’t know if I would have acted on it, but I know I would have wanted to.
On one of the last days, Thy and Tim took me to Tonle Sap Lake, which was about an hour and a half out of town. Tim and I went on a fishing boat to see the villages along the lake, including the floating village. You can see the photos below.
In that moment, I had to decide whether I was going to be the one to educate Tim about Christianity, and I decided against it. Whilst I am fully capable of having mature and educated conversations about Christianity, it wasn’t about that. Tim is a thoughtful man with many ideas and interests, and I wanted Christianity, if it intrigued him, to be his own journey—something he could choose to explore in his own way.
Below, you can see two crucifixes I found around the complex.
I had bought Thy a brass fish as a going-away present and Tim a brass buffalo and a wooden fish. They both love fishing, and Tim had told me how much he loves buffalo. I wrote them both cards and put $100 in each to express my gratitude for looking after me while I was in Cambodia. Tim had also gotten the names of all the front-of-house staff at the hotel—there were 17 of them—so I bought greeting cards for each of them and put $20 in every card. I put $100 in Phil’s card, as well as in the card for another young man who had helped me a lot.
On the day I left the hotel, Phil was sick, which I was so disappointed about, but I had left him a card with his tip and with my number in it. As I walked out to Thy’s car, all the reception and front-of-house staff came outside, stood together in a row, and waved at me. It was a lovely gesture.
There were no layovers on the way home—a quick flight to Singapore, a few hours’ wait, and then an overnight flight back to Adelaide. On the flight from Siem Reap to Singapore, there were two monks in the waiting area, accompanied by a security guard. Once the business passengers, including myself, began entering the boarding area, some airline staff approached us and asked us to step aside so the two monks could pass. They were then escorted onto the aircraft.
I was sitting across the row from them at the front of the plane, and for some reason, they made me laugh. They were clearly a big deal. Airline staff kept coming up to them to take photos, and they were being treated like royalty. I couldn’t help but see the irony in the situation—two monks, who had presumably sworn themselves to a life of poverty and humility, were sitting at the front of the plane in business class. Also the fact that I think their leader the Dalai Lama, is fuckwit, probably didn’t help my opinion of them.
I laughed even harder when I noticed them digging into shrimp and some other unidentified meat. I thought Buddhists were supposed to be vegetarians! They caught me laughing at them, and I cheekily greeted them with a hello. They smiled and returned the greeting.
When we landed in Singapore, they were the first to disembark, whisked away by their minders. Later, as I walked through the terminal, I saw them again, moving through the crowd with an entourage.
