Yet Another Place That Feels Like Home

29/1/09
Jasmine Lodge
Siem Reap

Is it weird that the only thing I've eaten so far today are mangosteens and insects? I didn't think so.

I arrived in Siem Reap yesterday and I have to tell you, yes I'm excited about the ancient temples waiting for me just a few kilometers away, yes, I'm thrilled that I've been inducted into a really chill group of travelers just arrived from Bangkok, and yes, I'm relieved that what little sickness I felt yesterday has already passed. But what eclipses all of that? I. Love. This. Room.

Besides being palatial (twice the size of my cabin back home), I'm three stories up and have my own little make-shift balcony, complete with wooden lounge chair and coconut bird feeders to attract flocks of little brown songbirds to serenade in the mornings. The cold shower is actually a tad bit luke warm, the fan is mounted high on the wall, but not looming over anyplace that could hurt me if it decided to lash out (an important consideration I've learned). Deadbolt on the heavy door, for peace of mind...and oh yeah, two beds. Complimentary water and toilet paper (yes those are not 'givens' here in Cambodia) plus free breakfast in the rooftop restaurant and the free book exchange make the $6/night completely worth it. Good thing too, considering the battle I had to wage to get here.

My day began boarding a small van crammed with about 12 people, bound for a bus waiting to take us up through most of country on what was advertised as a 6 hour bus ride to Siem Reap. How long did it actually take you might ask? What with stopping for petrol, two bathroom breaks, a pit stop for lunch, plus letting locals off at various little villages along the way? 6 hours. It was amazing. Transportation that actually delivered exactly what it promised. I still can't get over it.

The ride seemed a bit longer though, as we were apparently assigned seats. Mind you the tickets we were sold didn't have numbers on them, and when we boarded the bus we handed them dutifully over to the nice man ushering us on. I found an open window toward the back on the side I knew would overlook the river as we went...only to be kicked out by a Chinese couple waving a different colored ticket than mine that bore seat numbers. Okay, I move a couple rows away, this time to be mimed at by the man who originally took my ticket that I need to gather my stuff and follow him. "What'd I do?" I wanted to pout. He leads me to an empty aisle seat next to a 30-something western man and hands me one of the original tickets which he writes the seat number on. Great. Thanks. And so it was that I met Chris.

The man I was assigned to was a French expat who had lost his job in New York. We make small talk, and develop a fairly good banter about psychology, photography, and of course cover the basics: where exactly are you from, how long have you been traveling, how long are you going to travel, what are you doing when you travel and where else have you been...I think that's all of them. Anyway, its a pleasant enough ride, though I start to realize he falls into the category of what I refer to as a "crisis traveler." This is someone who, unhappy with a completely stable life they've built for themselves (he had a job in Paris after New York) decides to leave, fly by the seat of their pants and explore the world. Which is great! They're excited, they're starry eyed...but they're also scared shitless, have no idea what they're doing and consequently, want someone there to hold their hand. I can already tell he sees me as a potential travel partner. Problem is, I've had two long term companions on journeys (Zach and Jon), and I know the feeling you have to have to be willing to spend everyday with someone and trust yourself being alone with them in unexplored country...Chris does not evoke this feeling.

Unfortunately, by the time I realize what he's thinking, I've already mentioned what guesthouse I'm planning on staying at. As we pull up to the swarm of tuk tuk and moto divers I spot my name scrawled on a piece of paper being waved about in the crowd. Of course. The bus company in Phnom Penh sells your name to drivers up in Siem Reap, who then take you to guesthouses where they get a commission for every foreigner they wrangle in. I bypass my sign and find another driver- "Jasmine Lodge?" He knows it, nods his head and points me towards his tuk tuk. Meanwhile Chris has found his name and is gathering his bag. All set to do the obligatory "Good talk, good luck, here's my e-mail," send off, my goodbye is cut off by him saying "so, I'm going to try your place: Jasmine Lodge?!" Great...perfect. I rejoin my driver and we head off.

After spilling onto the main road way, dodging potholes and running over a goose (it's okay), we ended up curving off onto a series of side streets. Unfortunately for him, I'm fairly good with directions and had consulted a map before leaving. I tap his shoulder and point west, insisting Jasmine is that way. He reluctantly pulls over on the side of the road. He concedes that he doesn't want to take me to Jasmine because they have their own drivers there and he won't get money from them. Plus he wants to be my driver for the temples, which won't happen if I stay there. I explain that I already called Jasmine and that they're expecting me. He's not impressed. I tell him I'm not going to take a tuk tuk through the temples and that I'm opting for the less expensive moto. Still doesn't budge. Running out of ways to make him take me, I simply say "Fine, I'll get out and find another tuk tuk who WILL take me where I want to go." He asks me why I want to go to Jamsine. I'm about to explain that I researched it and for the price it seems like a good place when he follows his question up with "you follow your boyfriend?" Considering he's back in the states, that throws me for a second. Then I realize that he's referring to Chris, having overheard him taking to me about Jasmine. "...Yes. Yes, exactly, I need to follow my friend." Sulking the whole way, he begrudgingly turns back down the alley and eventually delivers me in front of my new home. I give him an extra 1000 riel ($.25) and say I'm sorry as he drives off, moping.

As I've already expressed, I couldn't be happier with the three story, warm burnt orange building that greeted me. I go up to reception, check in, drop my bags and somehow end up hanging out with two Chileans, a Swiss chick and a Canadian guy. We stay up in the restaurant well into the night, swapping stories and taking turns buying rounds of Angkor Beer and Beer Lao. I introduce them to the gourmet quality crickets I have with me, and even get one to try a beetle. When fatigue finally claims us, I trudge up the narrow metal catwalk to my glorious room and choose which bed I'm going to sleep on for the night. I fall asleep reading a mystery/suspense novel I exchanged my Dexter book for and thinking about the fresh tropical fruit salad that will be waiting for me in the morning. Mmm...

Yeah, life in Siem Reap is pretty sweet.
And I haven't even visited the temples...