Day 14 (Mon 28 Sep): Siem Reap (cooking class, floating village, Rolous temples)

Fresh spring rolls, chicken Khmer amok and banana dessert. 

 Cooking class: 

With Suri:
It was quick, fun and tasty. And most of the ingredients are available in the UK, so I’ll be practising when I get home.

I asked Suri if she enjoyed cooking.

“Yes, but I don’t like the washing up…”

“No, me neither.”

“… because, where I come from, we have to go and get the water.”

Ah, that was a reality-check, folks.

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I’d planned a visit to some older, less popular temples this afternoon, but Peourk explained they were small (“maybe 15 minutes each”) and quite a distance. But there was a floating village I could see. I was indifferent, to be honest, but with the change of plan to get to Phnom Phen via the northeast, it meant I would get to see Cambodia’s main lake – Tonle Sap – which I’d otherwise miss. He assured me it wasn’t like the floating market I’d been avoiding (there’s only so much hassling a girl can take), and I trusted his judgement so off we went.

OMG, it’s a floating village. An entire village built in the water on stilts.

Nothing could have prepared me for it – I’ve never seen its like.

I sat in the bow and just drank it all in (metaphorically speaking – the water looked dirty). Kids and adults alike played in the water.

They fished, in person:

… and remotely.

We stopped at the “crocodile farm”. As expected it was a bit of a gimmick: Tonle Sap doesn’t have crocs, so a restaurant ships them in from Siem Reap, puts them on the menu and then offers you a seat for lunch once you’ve had a quick look in their cage:

An unusual way of life, totally removed from what I’ve experienced, and the inhabitants seemed genuinely happy and content. I then wondered if the huge amount of tourist dollars the tours bring in benefit the community…

A touristy, but unique experience. Thanks, Peourk 🙂

I jumped down from the boat and tried to find him. Tuk-tuk drivers congregated in the various cafes. They all turned to look. And then I realised that they were all checking to see if I was “their tourist”. Looking after your tourist is not just a job, it’s a matter of pride… and someone had lost their tourist! It occurred to me that I was seriously outnumbered and yet at no point did I feel at risk: primarily because I believe most people are decent; also because we are their livelihood and taking an advantage of one will put their whole income stream at risk – it’s not worth it.

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Slightly off the beaten track, we passed roadside communities on the way to the temples. Even away from the water, houses are on stilts. The underneath area seems to be the main living area with many sporting hammocks, sofas and sometimes even machinery. Because it’s cool down under 🙂

Before we left, the heavens opened and dropped another shipful of water on us. This is what a dry country looks like during wet season: 

I was expecting these more remote temples to be quiet and less touristy, and was interested to see how these earlier ones (C9/10) differed from those I’d already seen (C12/13). When I arrived at the first one (Lolei), the party was already in full swing: it was a festival day and the whole village was out, complete with marquee (Thara would have approved!) and loudspeakers. Maybe not relaxing, but certainly authentic.

Many early temples are made with small bricks (strong) with sandstone for the carvings.

Behind the small Lolei temple complex was a “monastery” – it was clearly very active (no photos out of courtesy). Got talking to one of the English teachers: it’s a free school for anyone (men, women and children); lessons run 7am to 7pm in one-hour slots; they have two classrooms with wooden benches and a whiteboard, and a computer lab (it was actually very similar to one in England, but in a shabbier building) with second-hand PCs (at least 16, presumably donated); they also had an orphan and a widow there. Unsurprisingly, English and computing are the most popular subjects: it’s seen as a route out of Cambodia. As I expected, he gently asked for a donation at the end: I desperately wanted to contribute – clearly the best way to get the money to where it’s needed – but I don’t carry much cash (for obvious reasons) and the unexpected boat trip had wiped me out. I explained and apologised – he was gracious and understanding.

Preah Ko was my favourite of the three Rolous temples.

Wandering round, I knew what I was looking for and at: the design of the balustrades, the carvings above the doors, the shape of the pillars, the materials, the statues.

Then lightning and the loudest, longest thunder clap I’ve ever heard. Today’s storm was coming.

Arriving at Bakong, the largest temple of the three, just in time for sunset, the music blared loud. More festival celebrations. The sun was setting, but would the rain come first.

“No, you can’t go up [to the temple], we are closed”.

What?! Peourk had said it was open til six, and he would know. I strongly suspected the official knew the rain was coming and wanted to go home. Couldn’t blame him really, but I’d never be here again.

Back at the tuk-tuk, Peourk was having none of it. “You want to go? I will sort it.” He knew that I’d really wanted to see the temples. But it was now raining and dusk was settling in. We talked.

“Let’s go,” he said. And we went.

With nobody around to stop us, we climbed to the top. Deep black rain clouds, the last vestiges of sunshine, the party next door. Wow. (This picture just doesn’t do it justice). 

I told you tuk-tuk drivers look after their tourists 🙂