Travelling solo

My journey back down to Sihanouk Ville was much quicker because I had booked a mini bus. It took only four hours and so I arrived at the beach capital of Cambodia around lunchtime.
I knew better than to get a tuk-tuk from the drivers waiting for us at the bus station. I walked for five minutes down towards Led Zephyr and Monkey Republic. I walked up to a young man  slouched on his mo-ped. I got a lift out to Otres 2  for $3. It was further down from where Blair and I had stayed earlier on; far quieter and less crowded!
I arrived at Elephant Garden. I had walked passed the bungalows on my day alone exploring the deserted beaches during our last stay. They had raised platforms covered by gazebos and cushions scattered for you to lie on. They had cushioned longers and towels for you to use. They played relaxing music and I smelt the delicious foods from the kitchen! I met the owner who was German and the manager: Mark and Tamika. They checked me into bungalow two. I had my own hammock style chairs in the front that looked over the pristine beach. I had a four poster double bed with a mosquito net. The en-suite was simple but had everything I needed and it was clean. I changed into my bikini and dozed on the beach for the rest of the day. I ate fresh seafood and fruit platters; it was my first night of paradise!

The guests that stayed there were friendly and were a real mix of people. A middle aged Swedish couple who were on their honeymoon, an incredibly camp , loud and funny American, a young Swiss couple who had been travelling together and three German men who had moved to Cambodia but spent the majority of their time at the bar with Mark.
The third day we went on a boat trip. This was a tour the 'Elephant Garden' had only started recently. We paid a fee of $15. A huge breakfast buffet was laid out for us, and we munched away on fresh fruit, eggs, cheese, spring rolls and breads. We walked towards the fishing boat which I learnt was built by the German men on the road beside the resort. Huge coolers were brought on board filled with drinks and food.

It was overcast when we first left but it didn't take long for the sun to burn through the clouds.
We passed by many small islands that lay only a few kilometres away from the shore. We first stopped off at the island that Mark is contemplating on buying and building bungalows on stilts amongst the trees. We walked around and explored the island which already had a small family living there, in complete isolation and in little more than a bamboo hut with a thatched roof.

We returned to the boat and the Swiss lady and I decided to cool down and go for a swim. The waters were shallow and seaweed tickled my feet. I swam out a little and was treading water when a sharp pain shot through my right heel: "Ouch, AW!" The Swiss lady immediately turned back to the boat at hearing my exclamation and responded with a : "Oh no? Oh no no no!"
I was pulled up onto the boat and even in the water I could feel my heel pulsating. I cleaned the blood away and sure enough a long dark spike was embedded into my heel.
Luckily Rachel, the Swiss lady was a nurse. She fashioned a needle out of a fishing hook and sterilised it with vodka and iodine. She dabbed my heel with iodine and began prodding away. Mark and Tamika were concerned and felt bad, I assured them I was fine. Tamika began pouring an incredibly strong cocktail and ordered it to be passed straight to me. Bacardi and pineapple juice really isn't a drink I like, and drinking a strong cocktail in the heat didn't really appeal, but the polite side of me willed me to sip slowly, at least until the ice melted and dilute the two-thirds Bacardi concoction.
We concluded I had stepped on an incredibly long-spiked sea urchin, although Rachel had been unable to remove the splinter. There was a fair sized opening in my foot now so we decided to leave it and try again later.

We continued with the tour of the islands, stopping off at secluded beaches on the way. The coolers slowly but surely emptied and as the bottom of a cooler appeared Tamika would pull out another from beneath the seats. She had endless supplies. It turned out to be a beautiful day and the sun was strong. The women all sat at the boats bow and the men sought the shelter and kept the beer coolers close by.
On the way back to the resort we were feeling the effects of a days sun exposure and wind burn. We asked Mark to stop the boat and we jumped into the deep blue sea. We were surrounded by small islands, it was truly beautiful!
That evening we all had dinner together, drank wine and sat on the beach and watched the sun set. We exchanged tales of our travels and recommendations. It was a fantastic day out!
I rented a mo-ped through Tamika for the following few days so I could venture into the city and explore the country side a little.
One of the waiters that worked there was a graduate from Leeds, who was working and travelling through South East Asia while he waited for his Australian work visa to be granted.
We bonded over Ricky Gervais and Office quotes which he could reel off like a true fan. We shared the same humour and it was comforting to be my slightly eccentric self with!
He had the afternoon off, and as he was deciding a way to get into town I offered a lift on my newly hired bike.

We spent the afternoon in the central market and showed off our haggling skills constantly trying to out-do the other. I won hands down: Two dresses and a north face backpack for $18, while he handed over $19 for one shirt for a girl he was dating.
We went to lunch at Holy Cow where Blair had eaten while I was doubled over the toiled with food poisoning. He told me all about his travels and how he was hoping to get a job in radio in Australia.
We drove to ANA travel agents to collect my passport with my newly granted Vietnamese visa. As we hopped off the mo-ped we looked across the street. There was a burnt out hole where Monkey Republic used to be. Apparently an air-conditioning unit in one of their bungalows had over heated  and began a fire. The guesthouses on either side were also mainly wooden structures and had thatched roofs. All in all five businesses had been completely gutted, including Mick and Craig's where Blair and I had eaten. Nobody had been injured, and apparently staff were seen piling tourists' backpacks out until the very last minute. Onlookers watched as one building after another went up in flames, it had taken a while for the emergency services to react and apparently had run out of water mid blaze. Local guesthouses had offered free accommodation to the guests and staff of Monkey Republic.
When we arrived back at the resort, Chris was back to work. I had just finished Skyping Blair Bear when I walked up to the bar. Chris was chatting away to an American girl and introduced us. Her name was Lana and she ran her own dress stall at Otres market as well as working at Mushroom Point. She had moved to the area three weeks ago which explained why Blair and I hadn't met her at the Point before. We chatted for a while and arranged to have dinner later on, after she had run a few errands.

Lana returned at 19:30, we ordered glasses of wine and tapas. She told me about her travelling experience with her sister which had proven to be a bit of a nightmare. They had argued constantly through Vietnam and now that they had settled in Otres for a while they had even designated their own parts of the beach. Otres 1 was Lana's territory and Otres 2 was her younger sisters'.
Whilst in Vietnam she had visited the cloth market in Hoi An and purchased metres of beautiful chiffon fabrics and sought out a tailor to make hundreds of dresses she had designed herself. She had invested the majority of her money but was now making a roaring trade at Otres Market every Saturday. I asked to see a few of her dresses, she smiled and pulled out a few from her bag. She always carried a few of her best sellers around with her and found that was one of the best ways of advertising and promoting herself. I tried a few on and they were beautiful. She left six items with me in all and told me to hold on to them until I decided.
I spent the last few days relaxing and spending time with Chris and Lana. We would meet up whenever they got off work and would either squeeze on to my moped to go into town or chill out on the beach or a bar on Otres 1.

Lana and I were waiting for Chris one afternoon at the bar in Elephant Garden. We were about to leave when I stood to pop to the toilet. As I stood up, the larger of Tamika's dogs growled and went straight for my ankle. I shrieked, he went to bite the other. Mark appeared out of nowhere and picked him up by the scruff of the neck and threw him into Tamika's room. Lana and Chris just sat there gobsmacked. I was just in plain shock. I stood there for a few seconds and just ran straight to my hut, locked the door and burst out in tears, for all of five seconds before I realised how ridiculous I was being. I love dogs and had never been attacked before. Red scratches wrapped around both of my ankles. I just prayed he hadn't drawn blood: he hadn't.
A knock came at the door. It was Mark. He felt terrible and asked if my ankles were OK, I told them they were fine and just told him I was in shock more than anything, my crying was just an impulsive reaction. He explained that dogs were generally maltreated by the Khmers who usually kick the dogs. The dogs become nervous around lifted feet. I told him I understood but wanted to be alone to calm down, what he told me wasn't helpful.
After I sat on my bed I just burst out laughing, I can't believe I'd reacted so badly.
The only downside to my week at Otres 2 was that it became unbearably hot and humid. It was nearing the end of the dry season when  Cambodia was notorious for hitting its highest temperatures.
The sea was no longer refreshing, it was like stepping into a bath or a soup. I'm sure it was warmer in the sea than it was walking along the beach. Sunbathing was a big no no. Also the sea was far out the last few days and so the shore was strewn with rubbish. I spotted beer cans, plastic cups, fruit skins, dead fish, the odd flip-flop or shoe.
The last few nights were not pleasant at all. I couldn't sleep for the heat. There was only one place on the entire stretch of Otres that had air-conditioning, other guesthouses sufficed with fans. However the electricity was cut every night. I found myself in the sea at 4am on a few occasions in a desperate bid to cool down.
The last night Lana and I went to a beach BBQ. We sat at the bar and chatted with the bar staff, contributed to the playlist, danced and were brought a mountain of food. We had barbequed shrimp, ribs, chicken thighs and wings, bread roles, potato salad and vegetables.
I said my goodbyes and once again was sad to leave, particularly because I was once again going to miss Otres market. Maybe I'll make it back there on my next adventure!
I knew I wasn't going to get to sleep that night, so I stretched out my packing process as long as possible. I was being picked up at 7am by a tuk-tuk and taken to the bus station. I had a 12 hour bus journey ahead of me back to Blair.
I sat outside the hut and watched the sun rise, I took a final walk along the Beach until it reached 7am.

No tuk-tuk. By the time it reached 7:45am I figured there was no way I was going to make it to the bus station in time for the 8am departure to Ho Chi Min.
I couldn't get hold of Blair because there was still no electricity and so no WiFi. Mark and Tamika wouldn't stop apologising. They made me a coffee and gave me breakfast. By the time I got hold of Blair I was annoyed, tired and I really missed him. Being the sweetheart he is, he calmed me down, cheered me up and solved the situation in ten minutes. He booked a hotel for me in Phnom Penh and told me to make my way there today and to arrange a bus the following day to Ho Chi Min. That way I could get a good night sleep. There was another reason behind prolonging the trip. I knew that Blair would not let me travel alone on a sleeper bus, once again he looked after me and made sure I was safe.
Mark ordered a tuk-tuk for me and I asked to be taken to the Giant Ibis bus offices in town. Blair had found the company online when we first arrived in Cambodia. They ran a great service with clean and air-conditioned buses, more importantly they had spacious seats, which meant Blair wasn't crammed to within an inch of his life.
We approached the Golden Lion roundabout but we took the wrong exit. I shouted out to the driver and informed him of his mistake. He reassured me that he knew where he was going. I sat back and doubted myself, naturally, he is the tuk-tuk driver after all!
We turned right into a yard. To the right of us were two or three men lying in hammocks and sitting in chairs under the trees. The driver stopped. Before I asked the driver where we were he had nodded at a few other men to our left. They formed a circle around me and simultaneously began offering me bus tickets to Phnom Penh. I held my head in my hands and again told the tuk-tuk driver my desired destination. He pointed at the men surrounding me suggesting they held the solution to my problem. I shook my head and asked the men to leave. Of course, they didn't listen. Eventually I had to feign a few tears and a scared look. This did enough to get the driver back on side and get the men to stop haggling at me. We drove on a few hards and he walked me to the official ticket office where I finally bought a ticket, not the one I wanted, but at least I had a ticket to Phnom Penh. The ticket officer was a kind elderly man who dismissed the tuk-tuk driver with a stern look and a wave of his hand. The men bothering me also received a scowl which melted away into a warm smile as he turned to me and offered me a seat in the shade.
The journey was made in a mini-van with mainly Westerners huddled in the small seats. Naturally, I was comfortable enough and would drift off to sleep until I would be thrown out of my seat and up in the air due to a crater-sized pot hole that we'd hit. By the third time my reaction became laughter. I also supplied the entertainment, the other passengers laughed, not only at the sight of me being thrown a foot in the air, but by the look of shock on my face as I woke up to find myself sitting mid air and falling back down.
Once I arrived I walked away from the expected huddle of tuk-tuk drivers. I found a mo-ped driver who was willing to give me a lift but spoke no English. He was trying to make sense out of my destination when I was tapped on the shoulder. Two passengers from the bus had followed me because I looked like I knew what I was doing and where I was going. They had no reservation so I suggested we share a tuk-tuk so they could try their luck at my accommodation.
The lift began to go badly when first of all we were taken to the wrong district and the driver pulled in front of a hotel who's name bared no resemblance to where I wanted to go. A short argument ensued. I was tired and cranky. I knew that tuk-tuk drivers would push their luck farther with women, but I wasn't backing down. Our voices weren't raised but there was a tone of animosity that began attracting attention. The driver turned and began driving in the correct direction. We dropped the Australian couple off. The street my hotel was on was full of guesthouses. I knew the number of my hotel, it was low, and I knew we had already passed it. The driver seemed to have forgotten I had told him several times that I had a hotel reservation, because he began driving away from the street. I yelled at him to stop. I told him to turn around. He told me he would take me to 'nice accommodation, very cheap'. I reminded him I already had a reservation. He still wasn't listening. I stood up in the tuk-tuk as he began to drive even further away from the street. By now I was well and truly pissed off. I know that displays of heightened emotions are against Khmer custom. I didn't care at this point. I shouted at him to stop. He braked sharply. I had anticipated this reaction and had already grabbed hold of the bars. He looked worried, and people from all directions were looking. I told him again that I had a reservation and that it was in the opposite direction and that to deliberately drive someone the wrong way, particularly a woman wasn't the cleverest of moves. To make it worse I didn't have change, I only had a large note. I told him to wait while I got change, but he insisted on driving me back and apologised continuously. We passed the hotel again. He repeated he knew of good accommodation. I grabbed both bags, threw the heavier one and jumped out with the lighter. The driver braked and turned back after me. I ignored him and walked through the glass doors of the hotel and asked for change. The receptionist was on the phone and the driver was standing the another side of the doors staring at me. And every now and again he would knock. I must have looked either scared or upset because the receptionist put the call on hold. The young receptionist sorted out the change and he asked me if everything was OK. The driver was still waiting and popping his head around the door and calling for me, "hey, lady! Lady!". I told him to wait outside. The receptionist sensed what had happened and told me to sit down, he asked me how much I owed and asked the porter to deal with it. He finally left.
The receptionist brought me a cold drink and apologised for the drivers behaviour. He said that behaviour like that was not to be tolerated and rarely happened, it gave tuk-tuk drivers and Cambodian men a bad name.
I was checked in quickly and escorted to my bedroom. It is the nicest room I have ever seen. It was huge, with two big double beds, towels shaped as swans, flat-screen TV's, a big walk-in glass shower with marble floors. Breakfast was included.
I showered, put the air con on full and skyped Blair to thank him for the beautiful reservation. We arranged to meet at his hostel, as the bus would drop me off a short walk away from Blair's accommodation.
I went for dinner but could barely keep  my eyes open. After a few sleepless nights I was more than ready for a good night air conditioned sleep.

I had three helpings of breakfast this morning. Eggs, bacon, fresh fruit, cereal and toast.
I was collected by the bus at 10:00 and was on my way into Vietnam!
The border crossing was fairly straight forward. We departed the bus and carried our luggage with us. We went through the Cambodian exit and into a building where our Vietnamese visas were checked followed by a security check.
As soon as we entered Vietnam the visible differences were incredible. The condition of the buildings, the roads and the transportation; there wasn't a single tuk-tuk in sight.
I brought up Google maps on my phone and tracked our journey until we had reached Ho Chi Min and again followed our route until we reached district one. What struck me most of all were the number of mo-peds. I saw thousands on my way into the city. They drove along the roads in giant swarms, I'd never seen anything like it. Huge sky scrapers and illuminated restaurants and shops and bars lit the night sky. Well maintained parks were green and had playing areas and exercise stations. It was a complete change in standards of living and wealth.
I almost ran off the bus and quickly collected my luggage. I had spotted the small alleyway where Blair's guesthouse was and headed straight for it. I stopped however when I felt my bum being squeezed. I smiled even before I turned around. I dropped my bags and gave Blair the biggest hug.  He laughed at my reaction. "Surprise! Hello" he whispered in my ear.
It had been lovely to have a week alone. I met some wonderful people and had a great time, but I was glad I was back with Blair and excited to begin our adventure again touring a new country

Phnom Penh 3

We returned to the busy capital and after being caught in bad traffic for an hour we made our way to the Mad Monkey. It was already early evening by the time we had showered and sat down for some food. We had decided to venture into the city the following day instead.
I made my way to the bar to write up some more of the blog and Blair napped in the room and joined me for a beer later on. By now he had stopped taking the doxycycline in hope that he stomach aches would cease.
We walked from the hostel towards the river where the city's main attractions awaited. Since we had been on a day tour during our stay we were familiar enough with the city's layout.
It was a particularly baking hot that day and no amount of shade or cold water suppressed the heat or relieved the sweating.

We walked through the square that led to the royal palace and pagodas. It was the district where the grandest hotels stood.
A tuk-tuk driver sat with a friend and was clearly enjoying the music blaring from a small radio. "Hey, fat man!", Blair and I immediately turned. The driver was standing now and beaming. I could already hear Blair chuckling behind me. "No tuk-tuk thank you" I replied. I had misunderstood, "No, come dance, nice music!". He began dancing on the spot, his friend laughing at his cheeky antics. Blair and I laughed, declined and walk on. "Did he really just call you fat man?”, Blair chuckled "No, I think you misheard".
We took photos of the royal palace, the surrounding pagodas and their grounds.

Then we continued walking towards the mighty Mekong. The district was also home to universities and political buildings. We passed 'The Cambodian Communist Organisation of Parties and Holidays' and 'The School of Buddhist, Pagan and cult Teachings'.
Being an affluent district, the streets had its fair share of poor citizens who set up shop selling anything they could. We were offered ice cream, rice, fruit, coconuts, flowers, herbs, even jewellery or souvenirs made from recycled materials. We passed several monks wrapped in their orange robes and continued until we were now in front of the royal palace. We didn't stand for too long as we were completely exposed to the sun. Blair's tshirt and my top were soaked though with sweat Blair suddenly let out a huge sigh of relief and when I followed his eye line I realised why. He'd spotted the sign he had been searching for: Dairy Queen. When Blair had first read about the sights of Phnom Penh and noticed that they had a Dairy Queen, he had stored it away in the back of his mind, and waited patiently until we visited the capital again to go. We walked into this holiest of grails and the blast of cold air con was a welcome.
I ordered a bottle of water and a mango smoothie. I turned to see Blair looking rather disappointed. I found a table and when he joined me, told me it was nothing like the Dairy Queen of the U.S of A; they didn't even offer the pecan mudslide he had so craved, and sufficed instead with an Oreo blizzard.
Next, we walked to the city centre and the central market. Its listed as the twelfth largest dome in the world. I spotted the domed roof a few streets before.

Stalls spilled out from the main building and onto the pavements so pedestrians were walking along side the busy traffic and using the main streets as walkways. We made our way inside and were greeted with glass cabinet displays on mass selling jewellery.

This was the main hall, under the huge dome. The building branched off to other sections which seemed to never end. There was no air-conditioning, but there were fans on almost every stall; this kept us cool enough to walk around for a short while. In short, the market sold everything, from clothes to fruit to cooking utensils to pedicure treatments to toys. The sellers weren't as pushy as street sellers, we assumed it due to the continual flow of tourists and locals. The stalls also made use of every inch of space available. As we walked through the maze of stalls we were towered by stacks upon stacks of products on display. After twenty minutes or so we made our way back to the street and flagged down a tuk-tuk back to the Mad Monkey.
Unfortunately, it was rush hour and the city's streets were absolute mayhem. Lights and traffic wardens were ignored entirely, and crossroads were crammed with standstill traffic. Nothing but blaring horns and the revving of engines. Only the feistiest made any progress, and the mo-peds were on, what appeared to be, suicide missions, pulling out in front of huge trucks, cutting up tuk-tuk's and other mopeds.
Once we were closer to the hostel, we notices an odd sound coming from our tuk-tuk and that people were staring at the wheels. We both looked down on either side but could see nothing. The driver knew something was wrong but persevered regardless. He pulled up however when a group of drivers flagged him down. We jumped out to see a perfectly flattened wheel. We paid the driver and walked the short distance to the Mad Monkey.
We showered and went over to the XXL Aussie cafe. We ordered and Blair went to work on his ice cold beer and I on an ice cold coke. Our food arrived and was incorrectly placed. My 400g monster cheeseburger was placed before Blair and his dainty cheese toastie was given to me. We rectified the waitresses' wrongdoing, which was received with a giggle and a look of "no way will you finish that!". To my own delight  I polished off the monster burger and most of the chips, whilst Blair helped hoover the rest.
That evening I booked my bus ticket to Sihanouk Ville, and Blair booked an extra night, since his Vietnamese visa wouldn't be issued until tomorrow afternoon.
I packed my things up ready as I will be leaving early tomorrow morning. I'm excited to get to lie on a beach for a while. Although it will be odd being without Blair, not making decisions with him and talking things through. It will be the first time in over two months of spending all the time together, and now being apart!

Siem Reap 2

25-27/03

We had booked two nights with Siem Reap Rooms since we enjoyed our stay so much the first time.
We had done everything touristy during our last trip so we spent the two nights and day walking around the markets and exploring roads or alleyways we hadn't dome before. We ate at local Khmer eateries and went to a bakery that made the most delicious sorbets and pastries !
We had been given a much larger room this time and there was a bath in the bedroom that was surrounded by pebbles. I made the most of this luxury and while Blair had the air on on full blast I sat in a warm bubble bath.
We booked accommodation for our next port of call: the capital.
While Blair was excited to go to Vietnam I was sad to leave Cambodia. We decided that Blair would arrange his Vietnamese visa at the Mad Monkey hostel in Phnom Penh and head on to Ho Chi Minh. I would go back down south to Otres beach for another six days where I could arrange a Vietnamese visa and bus to meet Blair in Ho Chi Minh.
We booked our bus so that we had enough time to enjoy the great breakfasts they offered at Siem Reap rooms, a good note to leave the city on

Battambang

22/03
The bus journey took us five or six hours to Battambang. We had some interesting stops on the way including a tarantula farm; meaning the eatery offered fried tarantulas as a mid-morning snack. We didn't try one.
Battambang is a city that isn't visited very often by the constant flow of tourists through Cambodia. It was a city that was heavily used by the Khmer Rouge, and the surrounding areas were used as prisoner camps. It was the Battambang area that the Phnom Penh evacuees were sent to. The reason behind their choice of province was the fertility of the land. Battambang was and still is a huge farming district.
We were booked into was Battambang was My Homestay. We were collected at the bus station by the guesthouses' tuk-tuk driver. This was a relief as we could avoid the fourteen odd tuk-tuk drivers that were haggling for customers. We spotted the driver straight away. He was a dark skinned Khmer with big round eyes and a huge smile, so he stood out from the other drivers.
We drove away from the city centre and along dirt roads until we reached large gates. We were welcomed by the owner, Mr. Kun. Homestay had ten bungalows, they lined the driveway to his large house that stood at the far end facing the gates. There were sheltered eating areas, bikes available to use, fruit trees and beautiful flowers and it was peaceful there.

We were shown to our room, shown a map of the city and shown the tours that were offered. We agreed to do a full day tour. We would be collected by Happy, who was to be our tuk-tuk driver for the duration of our stay, at 10am. Mr. Kun also arranged for Happy to take us into the city at 19:00 so we could have dinner and walk around the city, he would then come back for us whenever we were ready.
We rested for a while, showered and read up on the sights and highlights of Battambang, including of course the restaurants, cafes and eateries that were recommended. We settled on an Indian that cooked traditional dishes. It also had a sister restaurant in Phnom Penh. The story behind its opening was amusing: four tourists who had been travelling were craving an Indian takeaway so badly that they paid over $200 for a taxi to drive to Phnom Penh to collect them one. Blair was excited to get another thali.
We walked around the central market after our delicious meal. All types of food were being sold, from meats to fish, fresh and dried vegetables and fruit, teas, coffees and nuts.
I noticed more homeless people in Battambang than in other Cambodian cities. They sat under trees and in the dark you couldn't see them until you were literally on top of them, and by then you would have jumped out of your skin at the sight of a pair of eyes staring straight up at you.
When Happy drove us back to our guesthouse, Mr. Kun and his wife were waiting to greet us with a plate of mango freshly picked from their mango trees. We arranged to eat our breakfast at 09:00, we bid them good night and slept well.

We woke up to a glorious morning, it was a clear blue sky and the sun was out in full force. We sat in the shade and our breakfast was brought out to us by Mrs. kun. Breakfast was included in the price and was highly rated by all of the comments on trip advisor. We were promised a traditional Khmer breakfast, and every morning it would be different.
This morning we were served a spiced mince meat wrapped in a savoury pancake and served on a banana leaf. This was served with raw vegetables and a peanut and chilli sauce that was to be poured on as we wished. We were served a pot of fresh green tea. We savoured every bite and I was surprised that I didn't feel too bloated, I was expecting it to be quite a heavy meal.
Happy was ready for us and we left promptly at 10am. We drove away from the city and towards the countryside.

Our first stop was to a temple. Happy drove us into the grounds and we had to pay a small entry fee. He walked us to the bottom of some steep steps that supposedly led up to the temple, although it was hidden from view by trees and vegetation. He waited for us at the bottom while we climbed, resting in a hammock of a small eatery.

It was a long climb up, we stopped a few times to catch our breath and guzzle some water. Once we arrived the top we were positively melting. We climbed through the entrance and walked around the temple grounds, the rocks were engraved with ancient scripture and illustrations.

The temples height and lack of walls allowed us a panoramic view of the provinces' beauty.
Happy really did live up to his name, his smile was the first thing you saw! We sat down at one of the tables and ordered a lunch of pork, beef and rice. As we ate, we chatted with Happy. He explained to us proceedings of a traditional Khmer wedding. We had seen many of them during our tour of Siem Reap with Sa Pei and now again with Happy through Battambang. You could hear the celebrations before you even saw them. Tables were set out in front of someone's home and spread out onto the streets. Orange drapes hung large bamboo structures. As they rustled in the wind we got sneak peaks of the guests, the layout of the tables and the dancing. Traditionally a Khmer wedding lasted seven days, but are far too lengthy and costly now. They now resorted to single day of celebration ;  this was considered a far more practical alternative.

Our next stop was the bamboo train. This was a very popular attraction with tourists, but to avoid crowds Happy took us to a station ahead, ensuring we would be alone.
We pulled up under a tree and opposite us was an old shack that sold drinks and snacks. To our left ran a railway tack. Happy paid an owner of a bamboo train and he disappeared for a while. This I didn't quite understand - now for some reason, I didn't really know what to expect, although I had imagined a train, as in carriages and all made of bamboo sticks, and inside these carriages would be seats and tables all made out of bamboo.

So when the elderly man returned with two sets of bars with two sets of wheels on each side and placed both bars on the tracks this illusion I had quickly evaporated. A bamboo sheet was lifted and placed on top of these two wheels. This created a very simple bamboo platform on wheels. A motor was pulled out of the surrounding shrubs and placed on the back. Happy brought out a large rectangular cushion and placed it on the bamboo for us to sit comfortably.

We sat, Blair got out his camera and sonycam. The elderly man began the engine and off we went. Above the overgrown shrubbery that we sometimes have to duck away from, we took in the countryside, farmland, rivers, streams and building sites.we gained some decent speed and whenever there was any form of debris on the track we both felt and heard it. The driver tested our nerves as he approached each new piece of debris with greater speed; he finally got the best out of me when we hit a small stone so hard that I left the cushion and for a split second was a floating cross legged squealing Cat. Everyone laughed including me once I had landed, I'm glad to say we stayed at that speed for the majority of the journey. After a while of zooming along we become stuck at a cross point, where dirt and stones from passing traffic had levelled with the tracks. Happy and the driver jumped off to push, after a few tries they asked Blair to jump off to and finally got the train back on its tracks. We were off again but it wasn't long before we had to stop again. Another train was heading straight for us. As we drew to a halt Happy ensured us that we would not have to move our cart. Some discussions began in Khmer and we realised that the group that had met us were not only greater in number but also were carrying on their platform heavy materials and sack loads.

We jumped off and insisted we move. Our driver took off the engine and carried it off to the side. Happy lifted the cushion and the bamboo platform, and then both men carried the heavy wheels off the tracks one by one and moved them further down the track ahead of the locals' train. I bowed my head at the four elderly ladies sitting on the bamboo, on their shoulders rested planks of wood, tied to each end were large woven baskets that carried their goods. This was a traditional method of transporting large amounts and they rested the planks on either one shoulder or both. To bow your head was a sign of respect in Cambodia and is a lesser form of the 'somphea' - this is when you bring your hands together in the centre of your chest as you would to pray and simultaneously bow your head. This was an old custom but we noticed people still practised it in a variety of social situations. They returned the head nod, smiled and similarly to the nuns in the Pagoda outside Siem Reap they expressed concern over the exposure of my arms and shoulders in the midday sun.
We stopped and were taken to a large mill that de-husked rice. Happy was incredibly apologetic because it was closed. He took us around the mill himself and explained the process. Inside were all metal machines covered in a thick layer of fine dust and cobwebs. Dozens of white bags filled with rice were piled high to our right. Happy showed us the many uses of the rice and how resourceful rice mills were, the rice husks were used to fire the furnaces to power the machines. Whatever husks were left were sold on.
The return journey on the bamboo train was less eventful. We didn't meet any other trains, although we were quickly approaching a cow. The well-seasoned train driver stayed on course and maintained speed, the unphased bovine continued chewing and finally stepped away from the tracks and watched us ride on.
We next stopped at a local family's home. They lived in a stilted wooden house and owned a small patch of land. They grew mango and banana trees. At the back of their garden was a rectangle patch of land that was covered by a tarpolin tent. Happy walked us inside and beckoned us to follow him. We ducked low and peered in to find rows of wooden planks on which to walk along. Happy explained that this was infact a mushroom farm. He picked up a plastic bottle that had been stuffed with yeast and sawdust and sealed. After a while the bottles are exposed to water and they are left to ferment. Once the mixture begins to darken slits are made in the plastic and are left once more until mushrooms begin to grow. They are sliced off and dried in the sun. The families use what they need for cooking, and sell the rest on to local markets. Mushroom farms were ubiquitous here as the region offered the optimum temperature and humidity to harvest several times a year.

We walked to the back of their garden, we stood at an opening to a large field. The children ran ahead until they were no longer in sight. Happy told us that children have only in recent years been able to roam the countryside. Battambang province was heavily plagued with landmines. Fields and areas that had been tested and removed of unexploded ordinances bared symbols and signs showing that they were now safe. Happy smiled at his sharing of this fact: after thirty years after the overthrowing of the regime, his countryside was finally safe. I couldn't help recall the landmine museum we had visited in Siem Reap and the injuries and deaths that still resulted in unexploded ordinances.
The family's dog began following us as we walked back to the house. The young boy caught up with us and picked up a tree branch that had fallen. As Happy began talking to us about different uses of mushrooms and the different kinds Blair and I were distracted by the young boy. He must have been about four years old. He was coaxing the dog from beneath the table. The dog obeyed and once he thought he was safe the boy smacked him across the face with the softest part of the branch. Blair and I burst out laughing, so did the boy's older sisters. Happy continued to talk oblivious of the comedy show beneath us. The boy continued to coax and smack the dog. Once the boy realised he had an audience he walked away smiling. As we were leaving he walked to me and gave me a flower he had picked from a nearby tree and a hi-five!
Our next visit was to a local vineyard. We walked through a small plot lined with creeping vines. Not much land was needed for a vineyard to make a good profit and be productive. Similarly to the mushroom farmers the weather provided the optimal conditions to harvest four times a year.

We sat at the bar where the vineyard offered samples of their products. We ordered a glass of the ginger and grape juices, the red wine and the whiskey. The juices were lovely and refreshing. We had been warned that Khmer red wine would not taste anything like the Mediterranean wines we might be used to. Apparently the Khmers would await the reaction of any westerners testing their wine. It reminded me of a mulled wine, it had the same fruity sweetness and similarly hinted with cloves. I'm definitely not a whiskey drinker and didn't relish drinking it in the heat. It had a good kick to it though and heated my throat for the following five minutes. I let Blair finish it.
We bought a bottle of each of the juices. We drank them simultaneously as we found that the grape juice quelled the strength of the ginger juice. The ginger juice bottle deemed it as medicine and is often used for its natural healthy properties and ability to cure various ailments.
Our final stop was to be the highlight of the tour. We were driven to the foot of a mountain where we left Happy and were taken up via mo-ped. The first stop was to a beautiful pagoda that looked over the rice fields. It was still in use so we admired the multi-coloured illustrations of the outer building and peeked inside briefly to catch a glimpse of the beautiful Buddha shrine. This very pagoda had in fact been used as a headquarter base for the Khmer Rouge. The original illustrations, decorations, sculptures and scribings had all been defaced and destroyed. Thirty years later it had been fully restored and was once more a place of worship and peace.

We walked down some steps into an opening in the mountain. To our right was a glass cabinet that encased hundreds of sculls and bones. Surrounding the cabinet were smoking incense and religious emblems. To our left was a hole above us that led to a thirty five metre fall. The Khmer Rouge had resorted to methods of killing that required no bullets and that also discarded the bodies. The prisoners of war would have their throats slashed by sugarcane and thrown down into the cave. If they had not yet bled to death the fall would have killed them immediately.

We walked down the mountainside and rejoined Happy. He was sat next to another tuk-tuk driver, a friend of his and introduced him as 'Sam the Man'. This guy was a serious character and talked nonstop for the next twenty minutes. I dared not make eye contact with Blair because I would burst out laughing; Sam the Man had the oddest accent we had heard yet. Imagine a Khmer man who has learnt English very well but with an accent identical to Forest Gump. It wasn't just his accent either it was what he was saying. He had managed to link American politics to family relationships to 'Babe: Pig in the City'. It was as if he spoke in a complete stream of consciousness.
Happy had to cut across and led us away until we stood in front of a cave where several people had already gathered. The sun was setting and the skies were changing colour.

Out from the cave a black cloud flew overhead and snaked across the sky. A colony of thousands of bats streamed continuously for over thirty minutes.

The people and tuk-tuk's began leaving and as Blair took the final photographs we headed towards Happy and made our way back to Battambang.
We drove along the road when we noticed bright flashing lights, loud music and a collection of mo-ped's, tuk-tuk's and people on the right hand side of the road. We stopped also to investigate. Happy told us this was a usual scene at roadsides at this time of night. A man stood in the middle of the audience and held a microphone. His show had begun and laid next to his feet were his tools for enticing a great crowd. He had emptied baskets containing a cobra and a baby crocodile, and roaming around was also a chicken. He stood speaking and prodding the animals with a lengthy stick. Whenever he stopped speaking Gangnam Style blared from the speakers and his minions would appear holding the products for the audience to buy. Once we realised this was the peak of the bizarre show we made our way back to the the city.
Happy took us into the town where we went to have dinner at the White Rose, a restaurant highly recommended by Mr. Kun, Lonely Planet and Trip Advisor. We were looking forward to a big meal after our long day.
Unfortunately we can't recommend the place so highly. We had our drinks twenty minutes after ordering, and an hour and a half later Blair's food arrived. I ran downstairs and told asked Happy to come and collect us at a later time. After two hours, I was then told my food had been given to and was eaten by the couple sitting behind us.
I just hoped that we would have another plate of fruit at the bungalow. Just as we walked through the gates Mr and Mrs Kun stood holding a plate of cold watermelon.

A breakfast of homemade spring rolls, a chilli sauce and green tea were served to us this morning. We sat outside under the canopies. Since today is a Sunday we took advantage of the quiet roads and borrowed two bikes. We cycled to a nearby hotel that had a salted pool. Blair sought the shade and I sat near the pool listening to my iPod.
Two Asian brothers were playing in the shallow end and both wore life jackets. Their mother was sat at the bar and was talking with the bar staff. I closed my eyes for a short while and when I awoke I noticed that the elder brother had removed his jacket and had moved to the deeper end. The pool was designed so that the edges eventually sloped downwards towards a deeper section in the centre. I looked down to find the boy submerged in water, his arms outstretched, his eyes wide open and air bubbles rising from his mouth: he was drowning. I ripped the earphones out and and jumped in towards him. I lifted him and held my forearm against his stomach and squeezed. A gush of water came out on the side slabs. His mother came running over and lifted him laughing, she clearly hadn't seen the whole episode.
For the rest of the day the poor boy sat wrapped in a towel and sat on the sun longer, not making it back into the pool.
As we walked away from the pool we noticed a sign that got us laughing and back in high spirits:

This evening we cycled into the city in search of somewhere to have dinner. We parked our bikes and walked down a street. I could see we were approaching a 'seeing hands' sign. I had read that Battambang was full of massage parlours, particularly parlours that employed blind masseurs. Unfortunately, due to the success of the original parlours, others had sprung up bearing the same name and logo. We were still some distance away when a man sat outside the parlour turned his head, smiled and said "Hello, how are you?". I was amazed. This blind man must have heard us talking in low voices and realised we were Westerners. I waited until we were closer to answer. I asked for a full body massage. I was taken by the arm by a blind lady into the open parlour an was taken to the end bed. I was handed over blue trousers and top similar to medical scrubs. I was given a basket to hold my things and a key for a locker. They all spoke in such quiet and soft voices. She called for a masseur. I was faced with a young man whose head was bowed and his eyes were closed. He raised his head and smiled, he sompeah'd. I lay face down on the bead peering through the face hole. The sheets and towels had been washed or rubbed with lavender. The scent instantly relaxed me and the blind masseur began. No oil was used. He massaged me over the scrubs. Initially I doubted whether this would be as effective; I was so wrong. For the past few years I've developed a terrible habit of clicking the top part if my spine and the lower part of my back. If I leave not too long between 'cracks' my back will begin to ache. I noticed that he spent longer on these parts of my body. I lay there for an hour whilst Blair walked around the city. I was in such a sleepy state once it was all over, I took a few deep breaths and finally changed. My back felt instantly better, there was no urge to twist and crack like I would have normally done after lying down for so long. Before I paid the blind receptionist called out for the woman who had been taking care of her baby. This lady had her sight and oversaw the transaction. She explained through broken English that people in the past had paid the incorrect amount, leaving the business short changed. I paid the $5 and walked over to my masseur and placed a 10,000 riel note ($2.5) tip in his hands and thanked him: "Ah Kun".
We decided on Gecko for dinner, a restaurant owned by Westerners but run by Khmers. Written on the back of the menus were the names and a short paragraph about each of the staff. They varied in age but the majority came from very poor backgrounds, most of whom were students and not only supported themselves but also their families. We enjoyed fresh fruit juices and I made the most of the salads they offered, as they're not a meal widely found in Cambodia.

Today we hunted for a cafe that was renowned for its pastries and cakes. We finally found Café d'Art. We removed our shoes and sat on scatter cushions. There we ordered sandwiches and an array of desserts: chocolate brownies, chocolate mousse and a lemon tart.
We sat there for a few hours and let the food settle; Blair read and I wrote.
We walked around the town, around the markets and finally back to MyHomestay. The indulgent lunch kept us full for the rest of the day so we were happy enough into snack on the plate of bananas given to us by Mrs. Kun.

We tucked into our final breakfast and green tea. The sun was out and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Mr. Kun brought us our bus tickets and we settled the bill. To our surprise Happy wasn't taking us to the bus stop, waiting for us was the wonderfully entertaining 'Sam the Man'. We had one last chat with Battambang's very own Forrest Gump

Temple running in Siem Reap

16th March

Our six nights at Siem Reap were to be spent in three different guesthouses because of mistaken bookings and lack of availability.
Firstly was Siem Reap Rooms. We were collected from the bus free of charge. When we arrived we were welcomed with homemade iced tea and sat at the front desk.
The check in process  was one of he nicest so far. We were talked through all of the tours that the guesthouse offered and told of the most popular and recommended tours amongst guests. All details were neatly written on a two sided A4 map. The first side was of the city. All recommended restaurants, bars, cafés, museums and markets were marked, we were even given directions to an ATM that didn't charge! This incredibly smiley and helpful man had basically helped organise our stay at Siem Reap. We felt bad that we were unable to book our temple tours through the guesthouse because we were only staying one night.
We were shown up to our room which didn't disappoint either; we had a big double bed, air conditioning, a big bathroom, a TV and most of all it was clean, and smelt clean.
We spent the day relaxing and looking up some of the restaurants recommended by the reception. They were all highly rated.
We set off for a walk along the river into Siem Reap  city. It was buzzing with tourists. The city is the third largest in Cambodia, with its economy relying heavily on influx of tourists visiting the astounding temples. In true Cambodian entrepreneurial style the locals catered the visitors by setting up restaurants, cafés, stalls, massage parlours, and even mobile businesses of books (typically of the Khmer Rouge regime or the Temples), jewellery or postcards.
Facing us were a mass of restaurants lining the river, a number of bridges crossing the water, including a brightly lit Chinese style bridge that connected the old market place to the new. As we passed we were greeted with the usual: "Hello lady, you buy, hey lady, what you look for?".
We walked down one of the main streets and were constantly beckoned into various bars and restaurants, we declined and walked on. We already had a destination in mind: Pub Street.
The streets name glowed in neon lights above its entrance, with flashing arrows. Music was playing to all the bars and staff eagerly awaited customers.

We decided on a restaurant offering traditional Khmer BBQ. We were given a list of the meats they offered and were allowed five with our meal. We chose chicken, beef, pork, crocodile and kangaroo.
In the middle of our table was a gaping hole that was soon to be filled with our own BBQ. The dish places on top had a cone shaped grill; a chunk of fat was places on the top and dripped down so we could place our meat to cook. Surrounding the grill was a bowl that was filled with water and an array of vegetables and noodles. The water came to the boil, we ate the noodles with the meats, and then enjoyed the vegetable soup that had been left to simmer away. It was delicious. We began with the less adventurous of the meats and worked our way up to the crocodile and the kangaroo (which was my favourite, probably because of how dark the meat was; similar to a really dark steak!)

After dinner we investigated the markets, we were amazed by the mass of masseurs and tanks filled with dead skin eating fish just waiting to nibble on someone's feet - they were everywhere. Of course, persuading Blair to get either a massage or a foot dip with the flesh eating fish was an impossible feat.
The number of stalls selling knock-off designer clothing, jewellery and watches was pretty overwhelming too. Every stall you saw sold something slightly nicer, or better quality than before. Blair wasn't feeling the market browsing, so we called it a night and headed back to the hotel.

We checked out of Siem Reap Rooms after a huge breakfast and walked down to our next home for the night: Sam So.
Our room smelt of stale smoke and urine. There were stains on the sheets. Needless to say is was a huge step down from Siem Reap rooms.
We checked in around 13:00. Despite not feeling well due to a bad stomach, Blair and I escaped the smelly room. We explored the city a bit more and stocked up on supplies in the local pharmacy.
Blair was actually happier walking around shops than facing the outdoor heat. The difference between the north west was incredible. Blair's T-shirt would be soaked by the time we'd arrived the bridge before crossing into the city. Our skin to the touch would be damp or dripping with sweat.
That evening I went for dinner alone; Blair wasn't well at all. I was craving Italian and had found a place amidst the maze of restaurants just off Pub Street. The alleyways were tiny and cobbled, they reminded me of the narrow walkways in the old towns of north-eastern Spain.
I sat in Il Forno and ordered a calzone and the nicest glass of red wine I have had in years - mam and dad,  not to worry, I remembered that it was a Sangiovese Cabernet Sauvignon, this should narrow the search a little. Like one of the reviews had mentioned, I really did feel like I was in Italy. It was perfect the only thing missing was Blair's company.
As I headed back to the hotel, the bars, particularly the Irish bar (no tourist destination is complete without one) was packed. It clicked immediately: it was St. Paddy's day.
I sat at one of the bars and had a drink and quickly got chatting with some other British tourists who wanted tips on Cambodia in exchange for information and recommendations in Vietnam.
We may have been thousands of miles away from the emerald isle, but Siem Reap celebrated St. Paddy's with all the drink and energy it had!

We finally moved into a hotel where we could arrange the highlight of the stop: the Temples. We checked into Motherhome guesthouse. It was more like a hotel than a guesthouse; we even had a bath and hot water! There was an onsite massage parlour, offering a huge range of traditional treatments.
We arranged for one of the hotel's tuk-tuk drivers to collect us a 05:00 the following morning and take us for our first tour of the temples.  We opted for the small circuit to begin with. This was a tour of five temples: Angkor Wat, Bayon, Ta Prohm, Banteay Kdei and Prasat Kravan. The highlight was going to be our first stop; watching the sunrise at Angkor Wat.
The hotel had prepared packed breakfasts for us of fresh fruit, toasted sandwiches and bottles of water. Our driver waited for us outside. He introduced himself as Tom, ran through the day's itinerary and we were off.
The morning was cool and I was glad I had brought my cardigan  and pashmina. I had read up on the dress code and general etiquette for the temples because a) I didn't want to show disrespect and b) I didn't want to be refused entry to any of the temples.
We sped past a number of tourists all at different stages of their bike ride to the temples as well as bus loads of Asians.
We stopped at the ticket offices where we paid for a three day pass at $40 each. We had our photos taken and printed onto our passes.
Tom then drove us further through the dark until we arrived at a huge mass of tourists buying coffee from vans and being sold books and torches.
Blair pulled out a torch of his own and we walked along a bridge that crossed a river that encircled Angkor Wat. The skies were lightening and we began to see the outline of the entrance into the grounds of the first temple. We treaded carefully through the pitch black entrance way, taking care where we placed our feet to avoid tripping. Angkor Wat stood impressively before us. Crowds had gathered around the lilly pond to the left of the temple. We found a decent enough spot and waited for the skies to change and the sun to rise.
When we realised we weren't going to get the sunrise we hoped for, due to the heavy clouds, we wondered off through the central temple and explored its grounds. It really is stunning. The photos will do far more justice than any description I could write.

Next was Bayon, a raised temple, that struck me as reminiscent of Aztec or Mayan architecture. As we assented the top we were approached by an elderly man with a shaven head (usually an indication of a monk or nun). He tied red braided bracelets around our wrists and gave us sticks of lit incense to place at the Buddha's feet. This ceremonial-like act was done entirely in silence, until we were asked for 2000 riel each. We did so, but instantly felt conned.
I had read of many monk and nun imposters walked the temples grounds and set up camp coning the tourists using every trick in the book.
The third temple was one of the temples I had been looking forward mostly to visit. I had seen many photographs of Ta Prohm, and many postcards bared shots of  the temple ruins, complete with the trees and their roots reclaiming the land.
By now we felt we were practically melting and the sun was out in full force.

Every time we jumped into the tuk-tuk Tom had filled the cooler with wet wipes and bottles of water. We guzzled our own weight in water and steadily walked and explored the grounds of the last two temples of the circuit. Each time we were dropped off Tom would negotiate an easy meet up point.
By the time we had finished the tour it was still fairly early. We got back to the hotel at 11:30 and jumped into a cold shower and put the air con on full blast. Blair decided to nap and I booked a tuk-tuk to drive me over to the sister guesthouse which had a pool.
That evening we had dinner at Motherhome and I booked a 90 minute Lavender oil massage. The massage was given in a small treatment room by a very young looking girl who looked no older than 15, and she was tiny. Despite her size she had some serious strength, her fingers were crunching out all kinds of knots. It was so relaxing. I was served some fresh ginger tea after the treatment and sat in a relaxed daze for about twenty minutes before I left. In the waiting room I spoke with my masseuse, it was then I found out that she was 19 and had on only been working as a masseuse for a few months.

Following morning we met Tom at 08:00 for our second day of Temple tours. We were now being taken on the big circuit tour which consisted of thirteen temples and a stop at the landmine museum.
It was already warm and an hour into the tour Blair's head was constantly dripping with sweat and my sports bra and top were saturated. What made the exploring even more of a challenge was avoiding the bus load of Asians who are naturally inclined to travel everywhere in herds. We quickly learnt that they have no concept of queueing at all or waiting your turn, which I should have known from time spent in Spain for that its very much a British idiosyncrasy. They were obviously armed with their cameras and indulged by taking as many different poses from as many angles as humanly possible. By the fourth temple I had abandoned usual meek and polite temperament and became pushy and overly confident. However, it was a necessity that awarded us with brilliant photographs and ahead of the crowds of happy snappers.

We drove around 40km to Banteay Srey, which were religious symbols and monuments carved into the stone of the waterfall and river bed. It was a steep 3km hike through the Cambodian jungle and every 100-200m a sign would indicate that we were that much closer. We came across some beautiful scenery on our way up and some wonderful sights of enormous uprooted trees. These sights provided us photo opportunities and more importantly rest. We were nearing our destination and had finished our water. We were met by people descending the climb and left us with words of encouragement: we were almost there.
When we arrived there were a few people there. We were actually a bit disappointed. Apparently we had walked a tough 3km for very faint circular markings in a small patch of river bed. Blair was not amused at all.
Just as we were leaving a guide beckoned us to follow him and told us he'd show where the special carvings and waterfall were. We were skeptical but followed anyway. It was fine with Blair because we were finally walking downhill. We climbed down trees, rocks and hopped over puddles. We came out to an opening where the river was wide and shallow. Beneath the crystal clear water we could see these carvings, they looked perfectly preserved despite being under a constant flow of water.
We were told by the guide that these carvings were around a thousand years old. They signified the harmony of masculine and feminine within the Hindu religion. Carvings of naga, the worshipped snake figure were seen everywhere. At the sides of the river, particularly on any large rock face were carvings of children riding on elephants and sculptures of frogs. There were stories behind all of the carvings we saw, but unfortunately the guide had broken English and so they were tales lost on us.
We descended further until we stopped next to the river and heard the gushing sound of falling water. True to his word, the guide had brought us to a waterfall. He told us that due to the water having flown over the religious symbols, the water was now candidates as Holy. He invited us to shower if we wished. I jumped at the chance, and carefully walked along the slippery rocks to get to its centre. I could finally wash off the film of sticky sweat! The water was refreshingly cold, Blair took photos and filmed for a while before he passed everything to the guide and cooled himself down too.
The guide showed us back to the path, we thanked him and passed him a few thousand riel.
The walk down was made easy due to the fact I was kept cool from my waterfall shower.
We met with Tom and drove off to our next stop: the landmine museum.

We paid a small entrance fee. The museum was small but it was run by a Khmer man named Aki Ra. He has been known throughout Cambodia and international tourists for a while. In his youth, Aki Ra was a chhlap (a child spy for the Khmer Rouge). He was recruited by the regime and trained to lay landmines. Placed on the walls are memoirs of his from his time with the Khmer Rouge. He recollects placing hundreds in farming lands and crop fields, armed constantly with M16's. He remembers being handed the enormous weapon and adjusting the way be walked in order to carry it around. He was eight when he was given the weapon.

Following the defeat of the regime and witnessing the ongoing suffering of the Cambodian people due to unexploded ordinances, Aki Ra decided to use his skills and experience to diffuse the landmines. He did so illegally and used a long wooden stick and a metal detector to discover them before diffusing. Tourists began paying a dollar to visit Aki Ra's collection of defused ordinance. He used the money to finance his practice of diffusing. When the a government  set regulations and demanded that ordinance diffusers required training and a certificate of practice, Aki Ra responded and became a fully qualified ordinance diffuser.
He received financial aid from international sponsors to set up the museum. The government also instructed him to move the museum within the grounds of the national park. All funds go to housing and educating orphans and amputees of ordinance explosions. Each of the children housed, schooled and cared for by the museum have a board telling the visitors their individual stories. There are boards of information about the Khmer Rouge and their horrific methods in recruiting children, executing prisoners and of the weapons they used. Glass cabinets full to the brim of ordinance shells sat in the centre. Hand grenades, guns and other weapons were encased underneath all of the information boards. Finally was an area full of the most incredible stories of individuals from all over the globe, caught in different wars who succeeded in helping and saving the lives of people who were being persecuted against. These ranged from Cambodia, Laos, Afghanistan, South Africa, Germany, Bosnia Herzegovina. Acts of extraordinary bravery, selflessness and kindness of singular humans to help those who otherwise would have been tortured and murdered by regimes who plagued the twentieth century.
The final stop of the tour was to watch the sunset at the highest placed temple. We walked for twenty minutes up a pathway that spiralled up the hill.
Once we had arrived, there were already crowds of Chinese waiting to climb the wooden staircases to the temples top. We were told that a maximum of 300 people were allowed. There was an hour before the sun was due to set so we began our climb, until I was stopped in my tracks and denied entrance; I was wearing shorts. Asian women before me were climbing the temple in short skirts, but I wasn't going to argue. We moved aside and I hid behind a tree, there I fashioned a skirt out if my top and wore a shirt to cover my arms and shoulders; I was roasting. We walked back to the guards. The man who had denied me entrance eyed me suspiciously, he asked one of his female colleagues to inspect me. She was far less strict and let me along with a wave. Waiting for us at the temple were large groups of Chinese huddled in the shade, waiting for the sun to set.

Blair was disappointed with the view, particularly because tall cranes blocked the scenery. He spotted another temple, although it was smaller and lower, he preferred the thought of watching the sunset alone; a true romantic at heart!

The smaller temple was surrounded by forest. The Aztec-like temple was incredibly old and the steps had eroded and become narrow and smooth. We had to climb using all fours and we got videos of the sunset and treading carefully on our way down.
On our way back to Tom and the tuk-tuk, we walked passed the elephants used to take you up to the temples and around the park. While their riders were munching on pre-cooked cockroaches, I stood petting and stroking two of the elephants. They were beautiful and stepped closer, almost as an invitation to continue stroking. They were big but so gentle. Blair's photos captured just how excited I was to see those magnificent creatures.
That evening we ate at a local Khmer café and went off to bed for an early night before another long day of sight seeing tomorrow.

We were showered, dressed and had eaten by 8:00 and were ready for our lift to the outskirts of Siem Reap.
We met the two guys who ran the motorbike tours. Scott was a French-Canadian and taught Spanish at one of the local pagodas to orphans. Peter was a German who also offered free German lessons to another local Pagoda. They stood next to our transport for the next eight hours: our very known motorbikes. They ran through the basics and took us for a few practice runs around a quiet road.
They introduced us to our driver from earlier who had kept quiet. His name was Sa Pei and he was to be our guide for the day. The three of us jumped onto our bikes and waved the guys as we sped off onto the main roads. Sa Pei kept us on tarmac roads for a while until we were comfortable enough to go onto rougher terrain. We soon took a sharp right turn onto bright terracotta dusty roads. We were surrounded by paddy fields as far as the eye could see and towering palm trees. The roads were pot-holed and narrow.
Our first stop was at a local house that ran a small business selling drinks and snacks. Sa Pei bought us water and cokes and offered bananas freshly picked from their trees. He told us a bit about himself and about the local area. His mother had died when he was very young, and when his father remarried Sa Pei was disowned. He sought refuge from a local pagoda when he was seven. The Pagoda was to be his home until his late teens. The monks and nuns fed him, clothed him and educated him. There he learnt how to read and write and learnt how to speak English.
He also told us about the corruption that was still rife in Cambodia, particularly in the rural areas. The government would confiscate land from families that had lived there for generations, because they couldn't produce the appropriate paperwork! Families were unable to to send their children to school because they could not afforded the 25¢ daily fee. The main ways to earn money was through farming or selling wood  that they had chopped down from the forests. The government had forbidden deforestation and so had left the rural Khmer population with only one way to earn money.

We biked onto our next stop. Sa Pei paid for our entrance fee and we walked around the enormous temple ruin. We soon lost the crowds of tourists by climbing some of the trees that had overgrown and taken over the crumbled ancient rocks. We came across a family that had set up camp on the very outskirts of the temple, a mother cradled a young baby and another four young children ran around the ruins and accompanied us for a while.
We met with Sa Pei and he took us to a local Khmer eatery and were treated to some great food. Blair however missed out, he still was feeling I'll, by now we suspected that the Doxycycline medication we were taking as a malaria precaution was the culprit.
We drove for an hour or so until we pulled into the gates of a Pagoda and the living quarters of the monks and nuns. Sa Pei greeted the elderly monks respectfully and with great familiarity. He informed us that this was the Pagoda that he was raised as a young orphan.

The nuns all sat on the ground in the shade. In their hand they held coloured paper and shards of bamboo. The sharp edges of the bamboo acted as scissors, and they cut out different decorative shapes. These were then collected by the monks and stuck the shapes onto a huge model (using a natural mixture to create glue - its main ingredient being the sap from the rubber tree).
Sa Pei explained that they were preparing for the Khmer new year, celebrated in April.
I sat with the women and they expressed concern over the exposure of skin to the sun. I watched them work away quietly and methodically, when the silence was broken; our arrival had given the women reason to chat amongst themselves. The woman to my left suddenly jumped and erupted with laughter. Women were jumping out of their skins  left right and centre laughing until they were practically coughing up a lung! We soon realised that they were playing practical jokes on each another. One woman would poke another in the ribs, sending the pokee into a possessed state where she'd point her finger and ramble away in Khmer until she snapped into her quiet humble self again. The rest of the group found this hilarious, and when I joined in with the laughing it spurred them on even more.
We left after a while and took a sandy pathway; this was the most difficult part to manoeuvre the bike. After fifteen minutes we arrived at a big lake and Sa Pei left us to swim. We stripped off to our bathing suits and walked through the slimy clay. It was like stepping into a bath. It was until we were in waist deep that we felt the cooler undercurrent. Blair got his Sonycam out and filmed the lake and the views.
Tonight we were famished so we decided to go back to Il Forno so Blair could enjoy a delicious lasagne. We feasted for a good hour until we were full fit to burst. This put Blair in a great mood and so he was happy enough to walk around the market. Blair ended up buying four watches and we put our newly acquired bargaining skills to  good use. The final purchase not the night was the best. Blair was interested in two watches from the same stall. He was quoted $50 for the first. We both laughed, Blair handed her back the watch. All negotiations were typed into a calculator so passing customers wouldn't over hear. She type in $48. She got the same reaction. We knew what tactic was coming next; she asked what amount  we'd be willing to pay. Blair entered $10 into the calculator. It was now her time to laugh and she said she needed to make profit. She typed in $25. Still no sale. Blair said that for that price he would take both watches. I was trying on glasses at this point and interjected: "No, too much, $20 for the watches and glasses." The woman clearly didn't like this proposition and when she declined the offer Blair thanked her, placed the watches on the counter and began to walk off. She ran after him and agreed reluctantly to our last offer. She placed the items in the bag and we passed her the $20. As we walked off a Western lady was looking at a watch and asked for a quote: $50. The lady shook her head and said it was far too expensive. The Khmer lady asked how much she was willing into pay. The answer was $40. The Khmer lady thought hard, she was playing her part perfectly. Then asked for $45 and no less. The western lady agreed and was over the moon with her purchase. Needless to say we walked away chuffed to bits.

This morning we woke at 4am. We had asked reception to put aside two bikes for us. The bikes were waiting for us. We were on our way back to Angkor Wat in hope for a far better sunrise than Tuesday. It took us around half an hour to cycle there. We got our third and final stamp on our passes.
We were slightly earlier than Tuesday and so found a prime spot. Blair's camera was at the ready, his human tripod also.

We were there just over an hour and managed to capture a perfect repression of the sun rising. I can't wait to choose nine of my favourite and get them framed.

On the way back we pulled upon the side of the road and spotted a family of monkeys climbing the trees and foraging for food. Blair took some photos and got some final shots of the magnificent Angkor Wat in the background.

We cycled back just before the temperature began to rise to unbearable degrees. The city was busy and it was light when we returned and on the right we noticed a children's hospital. Outside its gates tens of children waited with their mothers for treatment. A huge sign was pleading for blood donors; they were treating children with Dengue Fever.
We were also back in time for a good breakfast and to pack up and checkout of Motherhome