We are reunited with the Big Orange Truck today, it having not been allowed to go into Vietnam. I can’t say that it is a great joy, as most of the buses in Vietnam were more comfortable, with lots of leg room, A/C and pockets to put loose things in.
We drive to Siem Riep, which has become a popular tourist resort due to its proximity to the Angkor Wat ancient temple ruins. The drive through Cambodian countryside is notable for its many elaborate Pagodas and Temples, many of them being new constructions. Is this how they spend what money they have? I am surprising myself by becoming somewhat anti-Buddhism. Superficially at least, it is the worship of numerous man-made objects, and its practitioners seemed to be prone to being victims of tyranny in the 20th century, e.g. the Tibetans, Buddhists in China under Mao and, of course, Cambodians under the Khmer Rouge.
In the evening I head into Siem Riep town centre with Laurie and Gary for some dinner. The town centre has one road called ‘Pub Street’, which has a selection of western style restaurants and bars, though you can also get local food.
After dinner, we pop into a shop selling crocodile skin goods. Here, they have some whole croc skins, complete with teeth, which are awesomely sharp. We are told that the crocodile’s jaws are not that strong, but the combination of the weight of the heads and the sharpness of their teeth makes them efficient killers.
The belts here are priced at $120 US, although I am offered one for $70. I pass it up, having got my $9 croc skin belt on the Mekong Delta, near where the crocodile farms are.
Later, we go to Pub Street into the Temple Bar to play some pool. There are more prostitutes, many of which look suspiciously masculine, in the bar than paying customers. One of them gives me the eye, but I look back at her blankly and she wanders away.
On the walk back to the hotel, which is a comfortable courtyard style guesthouse, we pass a lively street market and I discover one of the strangest and funniest things I have ever experienced. I get a foot massage using only fish. Sticking my bare feet, in a tank full of what I am told are ‘solo fish’, though the vendors joke they are piranha which I am sure is often repeated, the fish feast on the dead skin. There are a group of people with their feet in the tank, but having been on the road for five and a half months, I am a veritable fish magnet with hundreds gorging themselves as if it was fish Christmas.
At first, the ‘massage’ is somewhat ticklish, but after a few minutes I get used to it and it eventually it does indeed become quite soothing. After a while, and having bought a couple of beers while having the message, I don’t even notice the fish anymore. It does feel cleansing, but the offer to let the fish give me a full body massage is not one I take up.
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