Cambodia's Hostile Hostels

2/2/09
Jasmine Lodge
Siem Reap, Cambodia

Yep...Cambodia is definitely trying to kill me. Or at least sending its guest rooms to attack me.

It was a sunny, quiet, peaceful afternoon and I was almost out the door to go explore the bustling streets of Siem Reap. I had just applied a healthy coating of DEET over every square inch of exposed skin (I figure it's healthier than Malaria) and went to wash the excess from my hands. Now, the bathroom faucet has been dripping all morning, something a tad bit annoying, but I was ignoring it just fine...perhaps I should stop doing that. I scrub off the glossy film lacquered on my hands and give the handle a firm tug closed. A thick steady stream continues to pour out. So I pull again, still no progress. Deciding that one more nudge should do the trick I give it just a LITTLE bit more...only this time instead of shutting off, I watch in horror as the metal base shreds and comes away in my hand. "Fuck!!!" I scream in protest as a geyser erupts from my once unassuming bathroom fixture. "Shit...shit...shit.." Only a second passes and I'm out of the war zone with the door pulled closed behind me, looking over my now soaked shoulder and listening to the menacing hiss muffled behind the thick plastic barrier. Luckily, the entire wash room is designed to become the shower, complete with slanted floors aimed toward a drain nestled in the corner. Even so, I know I don't have a lot of time before the volume of the water overwhelms it and begins to flood the rest of my room. I continue to evoke the helpful spirits of the bathroom gods with the oh, so spiritual mantra "shit...shit...shit..." as I quickly access the situation. I'm on the third floor and I have to go down a thin metal catwalk, two flights of stairs and up another set to get to the front desk. Towels or anything else I have handy won't do shit to stem such a violent hemorrhage, but I decide to brave the downpour and check if a shut off value is hiding under the sink. I pause for a second at the door and listen, trying assess how pissed it is.
Maybe it's not that bad...
I open it up to a porcelain and linoleum cell, utterly possessed and vomiting undrinkable water on every surface.
"shit...shit...shit"
I duck down and check the pipes.
No valves.
Apparently I've only angered the gods.
Slamming the door behind me once again, I shake some of the water from my hair and have to allow a small smile to the comical nature of the situation.
Fuck it. It's time to run for help. Sprinting down the gang plank and careful not to lose my footing as I navigate the slick stone steps two at a time, I make it to Reception. Soo, who speaks some English, is behind the desk and I frantically pant something to the effect of "room 12...sink broken...water everywhere..." accompanied with wide sweeping gestures. Thankfully, he quickly snaps too, yelling across the balconies to someone who can presumably help. A minute of equally frantic Khmer and he nods to me, calm again: "Yes, okay."
Um...okay? You sure? Not getting any other clues from him I quickly trudge up to my room. Hoping he understood, I come to find my front and bathroom doors wide open and the water still gushing. "Fuc..." but before I get out the last "k" I hear the squeak of metal and the maelstrom subsides, slowly drizzling to a halt. The man I always said "hi" to in the halls rounds the corner and smiles a huge greeting to me. "You're my new best friend!" I say and he smiles back. I try to help him sop up the water but he shoos me away, apologetically saying it'll be an hour until it's fixed. "Yeah! Fine! Perfect!" I mime that I'm going to be gone for a long time and that he can take as much time as he needs. I try one more time to offer aide but he merely shakes his head "It's my works," he insists. I reluctantly gather my stuff and fight the urge to kiss his rings as I back out of my room, almost bowing to my new found savior.
The sun is still shining, and even a bit of a breeze picks up as I exit the front walkway of Jasmine Lodge. As I make my way further from the ordeal and my adrenaline slowly drains, through the waves of relief, one horrible thought creeps up to the surface: I'm never going to hear the end of this...

Yes, Dad, I know...
"When am I ever going to need a wrench?!"