We arrived in Siem Reap and were dropped off by our overly keen taxi driver at the cheapest guest house we could find in our Lonely Planet (or as T-Shirts in the local bars like to mock it ‘Losers plan it’, which has a striking similarity to the original logo). A young boy who seemed to be running the hotel took us to our room where we noticed a tiny gecko on the door frame. The boy cupped the gecko with his hand trying to catch it but only managed to catch the tail which was left wriggling in his hand whilst the lizard escaped up the wall out of reach. The boy then left us to our own devices, leaving the gecko’s tail on the floor as a parting gift.
The kind hotel boy suggested we head towards Angkor to watch the sun go down from a temple high up above the other ancient buildings in amongst the jungle. We weren’t too sure, but then when he said that there was free entry after 4.30pm, we were in.
Our tuk tuk pulled up at the gates of Angkor where we pulled faces for the camera taking pictures to go on our tickets for the following days entry.
Back in the tuk tuk we pootled along the quiet jungle roads past gangs of small monkeys wrestling in the dust and monks wrapped in orange robes carrying incense gifts for the Buddha statues. The driver came to a stop at a main tuk tuk waiting station and told us he would meet us in a couple of hours. We set off by foot up a path towards the temple, the bright red dirt clinging to every drop of sweat on our feet and all the way up my legs giving us impressive foot tans. I was careful to look out for landmines although I suppose these touristy places have been well cleared by now.
At the top of the path we found the temple thronging with visitors and a few elephants taking a break from their 9 – 5 jobs ferrying the fat and lazy up and down the path. The temple was an impressive sight, guarded by large stone tigers some with body parts missing from their long and hard lives against the elements. On each side of the temple tourists were scrabbling up steep and narrow stairs providing a picture of trembling knees and knickers to passers by below.
We clambered to the top to catch the sun as it began to make its way closer to the horizon. It was still hot and the climb was thirsty work, but all I could think about was going for a leak. It would appear that the Buddha does not have a bladder as there was no sign of convenience facilities in the temple, just stone carvings and towers. I ran back down the steep stairs almost tearing a new hole in my flip-flop and briskly wandered towards the forest again looking out for landmines that may have been forgotten about.
Feeling much relieved that I’d not blown a foot off I made my way back up the temple stairs to meet Laura. We sat and enjoyed the sun slip behind a cloud forming a golden crescent and turned the sky pink and yellow. Tiny swallows swooped around our heads snatching dragon flies out of the air lit up by the dying sun and the light reflecting off surrounding lakes like giant mirrors.
As we sat watching the evening unfold it was difficult to stay in a fixed position as the stone of the temple was still hot from the rays of the sun, yet we thought nothing of it. It was only once we got home that it turned out that the hot temple stone had actually partially cooked our behinds. The best way I can describe the result would be for you to imagine our cheeks seared like a loin of pork ready for the oven.
Laura had just told a pant-wettingly funny joke.
Aloo Gobi and chapatti on a banana leaf.
