What makes international travel is the people you meet, and the stories that you hear—if you’re open to listening.

Last night, I came back to La Croisette for dinner.  I had firmly decided that I was done with the experience of living above a bar, so I decided to check email, and check online for additional booking options in the nearby area.  While I was sitting for dinner, a woman who I had seen in Siem Reap at Hanumanalaya (her name is Hannah) showed up at the restaurant.  Of course, I invited her over and we sat down and talked.  She is a Londoner who had done quite a bit of travel internationally, taught math for 4 months as volunteer work in Africa, and was an all round nice person.  So we chatted, and she taught me quite a bit about international travel.

Here were some of the lessons I learned:

1. Never get a place above a restaurant, it has vermin and smells (yes!).
2. Showers of the type I saw are not uncommon (good to know!).
3. Always look like you know where you are going when you first get off the boat.
4. Lonely Planet is written by and for backpackers, who consider a place up and coming if it’s a backwater bush village which once had one hut that counted as a guesthouse, but now has another guesthouse and a place to eat.

This, naturally, helped shape my thoughts about future experiences with travel, and how to decode the language of Lonely Planet.  Now Phnom Penh makes perfect sense!  We spent a very companionable meal discussing national issues of identity and culture, as well as the value of education.  Tomorrow she is heading off to Bangkok, and was debating seeing the killing fields.  Since I am going there tomorrow, I invited her to come along if she so wanted to.  We will be meeting at La Croisette today, if she wants to go—otherwise, it’s more postcards and reading I suspect.

We also met a New Zealand couple who were on vacation with their two children.  I swear that the two girls were a mirror of two squirrelly girls I know.  The youngest was climbing all over Hannah, sawing at our table with a butter knife, and generally expressing the fact that she was WAY overstimulated, tired, and ready for bed.  Her parents were teaching at an English school in Kuwait, which I think is good money and great perks, which probably also allowed them to travel on holiday for four weeks.

After dinner with Hannah, I booked a room at the incredibly swank Amanjaya.  In an interesting mathematical coincidence, my total cost of staying at Rory’s for 2 nights and at Amanjaya for 1 is exactly exactly equal to the total costs of what I would have spent on room and lodging had I stayed at Hanumanalaya.  Weird, huh?  (Om shrim maha lakshimiyei swaha—thank you, great Goddess, for the reminder about how abundance flows) So I headed back for my last night at Rory’s, and ended up having an interesting conversation with the two girls who worked the bar (and two beers).  They taught me some more Khmer, and they laughed at how fast I talked.  So I tried to talk very sloooowwwwwllllyyy, which made them laugh again.

At some point, a very drunk man comes into the bar.  I had to listen very closely to understand him, first because he had a great Irish brogue, and second because he seemed to be speaking in Khmer occasionally.  Turns out that it was Rory himself.  I toasted him with a “slainte” and an “erin go breagh” before going back to my beer.  He started talking to the two girls behind the counter, and he kept repeating, “I was bold tonight.”  I eventually piped up and started to get the story out of him.  It seems that, wherever he had been, a man had struck a woman, and he had intervened in some way.  This evidently cleared the bar, but I really didn’t get much more out of him.  He was, as they say, sloppy drunk, but lovable as he chatted up a couple of other patrons who came in for a drink.  I never did figure out exactly how he handled himself, but his wife came to collect him, and took him home.

There was also a Canadian gent in the bar, who had planned to spend his retirement traveling Asia or staying in Cambodia (I was unsure of which).  Turns out the economic situation in Canada (and globally) eradicated his pension and required him to return to Toronto.  One of Rory’s interactions was to tell him to save his money when he tried to buy a beer, and later Rory told the girls to give him his money back.  Both the Canadian and Rory seemed like decent fellows, the one down on his luck and the other compassionate to it.

After I finished my second beer, I headed up stairs to my room.  Supported by Hannah’s advice, I tried to not focus on any of the negatives, but the smell and my sense of sleeping on very unkept sheets gave me another bad night of sleep.  I consoled myself with the fact that I would be spending my last day in Cambodia in the relative luxury of Amanjaya, and eventually drifted off to sleep.

This morning, I scouted the local area for a place with free wi-fi.  I found a couple, mostly in restaurants, and so I had to also decide where to eat breakfast.  So I set up at La Croisette and had a delicious American breakfast (3 eggs, sausage, bacon, bread, and fried potatoes and tomatoes).  At the same time, I got to get in touch in with Patrick and enjoy a conversation via texting, which was necessary for two reasons.  The first, and most practical, was that I did not have headphones so that people couldn’t hear him talking.  The second, I thought expressing my initial thoughts on Rory’s and Phnom Penh would be ill received by the locals.  So we chatted and I ate.  After an hour or so, he and I parted ways, and I went back to Rory’s to begin my day.

So I decided to follow the Walking Tour included in the Lonely Planet guide for Cambodia.  These walking tours, I assumed, were intended to take you through the most interest parts of the city, providing you with “the city in a nutshell” in essence.  So, I  made my way to Wat Phnom, and proceeded on the walking tour.

I guess I need to look at the walking tour of Sacramento to compare, but I felt like this walking tour was a little bit dodgy.  Either that, or there was nothing interesting to see, because for the most part, I got to experience busy streets with a lot of trash.  However, I did got into the city’s mall, which was hilarious.  The mall is set-up the same as a street market, so there are stores in the middle of the walking area.  Of course, I also noticed that a Lacoste shirt that probably would cost 90 dollars in the states was only 27 here.

After walking around for a bit, I decided to stop for lunch at the Black Apsara, which I passed on my tour and was also mentioned by Lonely Planet as a restaurant that gives back to the community.  So I stopped for a bite to eat.  I had a brief conversation with the young man who took my order, as he was trying to learn better English. So I helped him with some choice phrases regarding dates, times, and how people can ask for the bill.  After I was done, I grabbed my water bottle, and then continued my walk.  I decided to hit the National Museum, since it supposedly had many of the statues removed from Angkor Wat.  In my conversation with the Aussie couple at Linga, they didn’t know why I would want to see it, since I’ve already seen Angkor.

Turns out though, the National Museum is where many of the Hindu statues that were once at Angkor temples are stored.  I’m glad that I skipped the Angkor Museum in Siem Reap and instead went here.  (I had read on the Internet that the Angkor Museum was pretty much a waste anyway)  They had many examples of small statues, stelae, and large statues from the temples. I found images of Durga, Lakshmi, Shiva, Brahma, Ganesha, Vishnu, and many many more.  But believe it or not, they pull the same trick in the National Museum that they do at the temple.  I was offered a flower to give to a statue of Shiva and found a donation plate.  This Buddhism thing is quite a racket in this country.  I mean, foreigners are practically speaking the only ones who get charged entrance fees to either Angkor or the National Museum (or Wat Prohm, by the way).  And they ask us to donate again, using religion as a vehicle.  It’s really rather exploitive!

After I was done with the National Museum, I headed back to Rory’s.  My boring plan for the remainder of the evening is to go back to La Croisette to post this blog, catch up on email, and in general just relax.  Tomorrow I get to experience the very worst of the Khmer Rouge: Tuol Sleng Museum (the former S-21 detention and torture center) and the Killing Fields.  After this I will be done with my visit to Phnom Penh.  I spend Saturday night here, and then catch the noon bus back to Siem Reap to catch my flight home.

Again, I can’t believe what an adventure this is, and has been.  Now it doesn’t seem so outlandish to jaunt around the globe on an occasional wandering.

At 12:30 today, I departed Siem Reap by bus to Phnom Penh.  My reasons for doing this were relatively simple and straightforward: I was bored with Siem Reap, and I decided that I should try something different.  So, completely out of the ordinary, I bought a bus ticket, left my giant red bag at Hanumanalaya, and took a minimal change of clothes in my computer bag.  I decided I would do this part of my vacation on a budget, so I found a review of Rory’s Pub and Guesthouse online, and found that I could book a room online.  While I could have stayed for 11, a queen bed was 60, so I decided to book it (plus, the single room wasn’t available all three nights I needed it). 

I spent my last morning at Hanumanalaya packing and getting myself organized for my little adventure.  Hanumanalaya refunded the difference in my hotel costs in cash, so that gave me a little bit more of a buffer.  After a small scare created by the fact that the bus that was supposed to pick me up was half-an-hour late, I got to the bus station, and boarded the double decker from Siem Reap to Phnom Penh.  I paid $8 dollars because they said the seat were wider and it was air conned.  Wider is up for debate-they were pretty narrow-but it was indeed air conned.  After everyone backed into their assignment seats, we were off.

The night before I had decided to go to Linga Bar, one of two local gay hangouts, and see what it was like.  I ended up chatting up an Aussie couple who had just come from Phnom Penh, and had done some previous Asia traveling.  We had a very pleasant conversation.  While we were talking, one of them (I think it was Peter) said that I should make sure I was opposite the driver side of the bus.  When I asked why, he proceed to explain the driving habits of bus drivers, which include occasionally trying to drive three abreast on a road (which is really designed for 2, sometimes 1 1/2 vehicles).  Should there be a head-on collision, I would be safest opposite the driver side.

I was on the driver side.  I hope that all those donations really did give me good luck.

The trip was relatively uneventful.  We stopped for about 20 minutes, which gave people time for a bathroom break, and some food.  I grabbed a spring roll, mango, and some bread at a booth.  This is a substantially cheaper way to eat in Cambodia, as it ended up costing me about $1.50, and it quelled my hunger quite well.  We hopped back on the bus, and continued our trip to Phnom Penh.  During the trip I listened to my iPod and read “The Spiritual Brain” by Mario Beauregard and Denyse O’Leary.  It had been on my shelf for awhile, I brought it on the trip to finish it.  It has been a fairly fast read, but very interesting.

We arrived in Phnom Penh shortly after 6:30 at the bus station.  We when disembarked, tuk tuk drivers were ready to assault us.  When one quoted me a ride of $2 to Rory’s I jumped at it.  We arrived after a short trip, and I agreed to have him take me to the Killing Fields and S-21 (the area where captives of the Khmer Rouge were held and tortured) for $12, which seemed like a reasonable price to be driven around.  So we arranged to meet on Saturday, and I turned my attention to Rory’s.

Remember what I said about Hanumanalaya?  About how I was depressed about spending $65 a night, and being ripped off, and all that?  I TAKE IT BACK, I TAKE IT BACK, I TAKE IT BACK!

So, Rory’s is like any Irish bar.  When I walked in, there were 5 men at the bar who could very well have been Irish, or at least fans of rugby.  I walked up to the bar, gave everyone a nod, and asked one of the Cambodians girls about my room.  I paid my 60 dollars for three nights, and headed up the stairs.  The girl who took my money met me and walked me up the stairs.  I began to get a sinking feeling as we climbed the stairs, and it was confirmed when we got to my room.  A pile of cleaning supplies and empty bags was at the end of the hallway.  As I turned towards my door, I heard a scampering sound and felt something hit my foot.  I looked down, and a six inch or so rat (12 with tail) had rebounded off my feet and scampered into the trash pile.  The girl with me looked surprised, but not apologetic.

When I opened the door, I found a one room area with a tiled floor and a queen bed in the corner with a fridge.  A television was perched on a stand, and I looked for the bathroom and shower.  I found both.  I guess an “ensuite” means a bathroom in the bedroom, but the shower is a hose attached to what I assume to be a little heating unit for water.  There toilet, the sink, and the shower are all in one room.

Oh my god-I’m in my version of hell.

After brief unpacking my clothes, I walked a little bit around the area.  My initial experience of Phnom Penh is the same as my experience at Rory’s-a step down from Siem Reap.  Admittedly, it is completely dark here, and I have no way to explore beyond a few blocks from the hotel while still feeling comfortable.  However, it seems a lot more squalid than Siem Reap, but perhaps that’s just because the zone of Siem Reap in which I journeyed was much more compact.

I decided to grab a quick bite to eat, and then head back to Rory’s to write this entry, and call it a night.  I have no idea when I’ll be able to post, since there’s no wi-fi, and it seems to be difficult to find in this city.  Lonely Planet doesn’t offer much help in that area, possibly because there’s not that much in the way of wi-fi.  So we’ll see what tomorrow brings.  One of the channels on the television is showing videos, and I’m enjoying the amusing subtitles that are amusingly mangling the dialogue (and in the case of Happy Feet, included an interestingly placed expletive).

Adventure indeed!

Lost Faith, Renewed Faith—my last day at Angkor and my day of rest.

My last day of temple hopping hit a snag when I decided to go to Banteay Srei.  According to Lonely Planet, the quality of the temple carvings is amazing, and many of the buildings show details from the Ramayana, the tale of Rama, Sita, and Hanuman.  Based on this, I was very excited to go.  The day before, I had asked at the front desk how much a tuk-tuk ride to Banteay Srei might be, and I was told 15, 16 dollars.  Thinking that to be reasonable, and also thinking that I could spend an hour or so there meditating, I decided to pay it.

Big mistake.

I will say that it has been the only time that I have been outright furious during my stay in Cambodia.  The short version of the story is that it ended up costing me 20, and for all intents and purposes, the trip was a complete waste of time.  The main part of the temple was completely inaccessible and had been cordoned off.  I was LIVID.  Openly livid.  Two hours round trip for 10 minutes.  When I went back to the tuk-tuk driver, who worked for the hotel, he told me it would be another 20 dollars to see another sight that was relatively nearby.  This was AFTER we agreed on 20 for basically four hours.  I told him to forget and take me back to Hanumanalaya.  Etienne’s advice from yesterday resounded in my head and I decided then and there to leave Siem Reap and go on to Phnom Penh.  I was feeling like there was a deal between one of the front desk people and this guy that I was on the losing end of.

So when I got back to Hanumanalaya, I checked on the particulars of checking out early.  I then headed into town to check on bus tickets.  It was around 6 to 8 dollars to travel the 6 hours to Phnom Penh by bus.  I had received an email from Dad about a day ago encouraging me to wander, so I decided it was meant to be.  So I will be checking out of Hanumanalaya on Thursday and heading to the capital.  I located a guesthouse for $11 a night (!!) and will be staying there three nights.  I will likely follow the Lonely Planet itinerary for two days in Phnom Penh, and then I get back into Siem Reap at 6:00 or so to catch my flight to Seoul on Sunday.  All around, I think it will be an interesting experience.

That is not to say that my entire day was a loss.  I went back to photograph Vishnu and Lakshmi in better light at Prasat Kravan, and finished my day at Angkor Wat.  I had a very peaceful circumambulation of the bas-relief galleries as the sun set, and bade farewell to Vishnu and the Buddha.  All in all, the experience of being in that place and this country was amazing.

My faith in Cambodia was renewed when I had a long conversation with one of the people who works the front desk at Hanumanalaya.  The conversation was about Cambodia’s growth as a nation, its national psyche, and what would be needed for it to emerge as a economic presence in Asia.  It was very nice to have this connection.  Our conversation was cut short by another guest arriving, but I think he renewed my faith in bringing people to this country to experience it.  It is truly an undiscovered gem.  I hope anyone reading this blog has taken all my experiences in the spirit of personal growth and discovery, and I hope that those who come with me on tour next year experience the same!

My night ended up being spent with my Canadian and Aussie compatriots, along with an Italian and a Swede.  Again, it was so much fun to be in that mix of cultures and ways of life, particularly when the Italian gent (who was around my age) explained that he works for 9 months and Italy pays him to do nothing for 3, so he just goes on holiday.  F#!@ me!  What a great deal that is!  And Sweden evidently is even better.  I made an Ikea and ligonberry reference that went over well.  All the travelers I’ve met have been totally laid back and fun—just swapping stories over drinks and enjoying the time away from whatever we consider ordinary.

Today—Wednesday in Cambodia—has been about doing absolutely nothing, except buying bus tickets, having amok for lunch (Cambodia’s traditional dish), and catching up on this blog.  The sun is starting to set as a I write this, on what has been a sunny and cloudy day alternately.  It will be my last sunset in Siem Reap as a guest of Hanumanalaya.  The adventure continues tomorrow with a ride to Phnom Penh.  I’ve gathered quite a bit of good luck in this country—I hope—and maybe I can ride it for the rest of my trip here.  Although I made the decision to leave Siem Reap out of frustration, I’m hoping it turns into an informative adventure to another part of the country, and gives me the insights to travel out into the world.

As I write this, it is 11:57 Siem Reap time-a very long day indeed!  As my pass to Angkor Wat heads toward expiration, I have started to become very templed out, feeling compelled to visit the temples again and again.  I think this is true temple fatigue.  It’s also a function of the fact that I am pushing myself to visit the last remaining temples.  This sense of temple obligation is self-generated, and leads to me resenting some of the temples for being “less than spectacular.”  (As if the temples existed solely for my pleasure.)  Combined with the dehydration that follows any long day of bike riding, climbing, walking, and general physical activity in continuous heat, it leads to a sense of fatigue bordering on crankiness.  I think the aura around me is palpable.  At certain point, children at the temples didn’t even come up to me.  While this would normally generate a sense of gratitude, it functionally only generated a sense of relief.

So, yesterday I had shopped at a booth of Kwan and her family.  I had promised them on Sunday that I would come to visit, and following sunrise and prayers, I biked the mini-route to circle around to Banteay Kdei.  They were there and waiting for me.  While I was not expecting to spend much money while in Cambodia, I figured that I would at least get some random gifts for family and others while I was here.  So while I bantered back and forth with them, I ended up purchasing some scarves, t-shirts, and the like.  As part of my negotiations, I got a water and a young coconut for later.  I was introduced to coconut water by a colleague at work, and I absolutely love it.  In the States, I purchase it in the can, but in Cambodia, you drink it right from the coconut.  They hack away at the top, insert a straw, and voila.  It’s filled with water, and there’s also electrolytes in it, making it nature’s Gatorade.  When all the fluid is gone, they can hack it open, providing access to the tasty flesh inside.  Too much of it makes my stomach a little raw, but it’s a wonderful way to rehydrate.

After my bargaining, I hopped on my bike to speed back to Hanumanalaya for breakfast.  Since I arrived late, I was concerned that breakfast would be a no go, but they accommodated me graciously.  Normally Patrick and I would talk over breakfast, but he was at bowling, so ended my meal, and headed back to my room to prep for my day.

I had my itinerary of three or four temples to hit, so I headed off first to Phnom Bakheng, the supposed sunset hotspot for Angkor Wat.  I now understand why I kept missing it.  There is an old staircase leading up to the temple that I could see from the street.  However, it is roped off as being inaccessible, so I consistently just ignored it.  I stopped just past it, and locked up my bike.  I made my first stop in the Angkor Wat toilet system, which are pretty swank-a step above rest stop, and free to people with Angkor passes.  It also said that foreigners would need to pay 2000 riel ($.50) and nationals paid 500 riel.  The only reason that I noticed that is because I don’t know how you can even get into Angkor Wat if you are a foreigner without buying a pass.

I started to head towards a set of structures directly to my left.  Baksei Chomrong (as I would later discover they were called) are a set of small temples that were originally dedicated to Hindu gods, but, as always, were subsequently closed off in three of the four directions.  They were relatively undecorated and unremarkable, so I just enjoyed walking through them and feeling their inner space.  I noticed a path running along side the trees, near the left side of the area (close to Phnom Bakheng), so I began to follow it.  After a few meters, the trees parted and revealed a set of stairs leading up.  It didn’t looked roped off, so I proceeded to climb up the hill.  A few meters and some slightly heavier breathing, I came to roped off portion, but discovered a tourist path.  I hopped on the tourist path and started to wind my way up the hill, meeting some descending tourists along the way.

As I rounded one of the bends, the structure of Phnom Bakheng came into view.  I felt an immediate rush of happiness that I had discovered it, and now understood why I had missed it all those times.  So, with a lighter step I walked over to the southern stairs.  At the base of the stairs I found a statue of a bull.  Assuming that this was a Shiva temple, the bull would be Nandi, his friend and vehicle (all Hindu gods have an animal vehicle or companion).  There were some incense set-up near him, so I light some incense and offered it to him as a blessing.  Nearby, two buddhist monks were chatting with a young woman.  It seemed slightly incongruous, in that the prayer area to Nandi was poorly maintained (the incense placing areas was packed with sticks), and the monks were laughing and joking.  I reminded myself that in Buddhism, every man is required to become a monk for a short period of time.  Perhaps they were just biding their time until their monkhood was over?

I began to scale Phnom Bakheng.  Like all temples intended to represent the climb of the sacred Mount Meru, it was quite a hike.  As I climbed, I noted all of the filled in towers (Buddhism again!), and started to get annoyed.  This annoyance would permeate my day, and began a trend that would permeate my experience at the temples.  I continued my climb to the top, and found myself with a beautiful unobstructed vista of trees to the north of the temple.  The blazing sun was starting irritate me (along with dehydration, probably), and so I sought the solace of a shady seat on the northern steps of the top tower.  Structurally, the number of towers and other elements added up to 108, a sacred number in Hinduism.  So, at the top of the mala, I sat and listened to the sounds of nature and watched the still scene of the forest.  The moment of repose quieted my mind and heart.

I headed down the temple, and found the tourist path out.  The walk was uneventful, except for a surprise encounter with a snake in which I scared him more than he scared me.  I watched him scurry off the path and into a tree.  Excitement over for the moment, I continued my walk down the path.  Sun, sweat, and lack of fluids lead me to accept an offer for a pineapple, during which two girls hovered attempting to push more on me.  Feeling incredibly irritable, I was polite but short in my insistence that I did not need anything.  I took my pineapple chunks, and headed back to my bike to head off to my next stop.

In order to get to Preah Neak Pean, I had to take the grand circuit route, so I biked past Bayon, Baphuon, and the Terraces, and out into the jungle.  I had brought my iPod headphones, so I was able to listen to music while I biked.  While I would have thought this against the point earlier in my trip, the music helped to make the ride go by and keep me from feeling overly agitated or frustrated as I got hotter and hotter.  I reached Preah Neak Pean, waved my pass at the guard, and walked down a tree lined path to the structure.  Preah Neak Pean was a sacred ablutions pool that featured four pools and a central structure.

When I arrived at the area, I noticed that the four pools were functionally drained.  I wasn’t quite sure why this was initially.  The central area still had water in it, and therefore was inaccessible, which was disappointing.  A strange statue of a horse with human legs sat in the middle of the water (referring to a story of how a boddhisattva rescued followers by transforming into a horse).  I wandered around the structure, taking pictures of the areas next to the pools.  I noticed the smell of incense coming from the area within the pools, so I decided to check it out.  Turns out that the drainage/feeding systems for the small pools also contained carvings.  The various spouts were in the shape of a lion, a naga, a human, and an elephant.  I was pleasantly surprised by the carving detail here, and took photos of each of the heads.  Trying to capture some of the photos was difficult, as the iPhone doesn’t like certain sun positions, and consistently darkens the photo.  Reconnaissance complete at Preah Neak Pean, I headed off to Pre Rup and Eastern Mebon.

By the time I arrived at Pre Rup, saddle sore, hot and tired, I was beginning to resent the temples.  After a certain point, there just isn’t anything crazy new about them.  Combined with afternoon sun and irritation from sweat and sunscreen, I was pretty much ready to call it quits.  Both Pre Rup and Mebon are amazingly similar, although Pre Rup was supposedly a cremation center for the royalty and Mebon was a temple.  The highlight at Mebon was its perfectly carved elephants (Jai Ganesh!), most of which were still very much intact.  I took some pictures of the elephants, and decided to go to Prasat Kravan, a small temple which supposedly had images of Vishnu and Lakshmi.

Prasat Kravan is a small, unassuming temple.  It would be easy to bike by it-like I did, a few times!-simply because it is fairly inconspicuous.  I turned off at the temple, and walked over to the 5 squat towers.  In the middle tower were carvings of Vishnu in three of his forms.  I smiled with delight, as the energy in the room was palpable.  One carving showed the Cosmic Vishnu, one as the dwarf Vamana, and one riding Garuda, his sacred eagle vehicle.  They were fantastic.  I could have stayed there and meditated for a bit, but there was little room, and the tourists were crowding in.  I left that room and headed to another small room where I found three carvings of Lakshmi (Om Shrim Hrim!).  I was delighted at the images, which were very much traditional and recognizable.  Uplifted by this little find, asked for her blessing and left the temple.

I had to return to Banteay Kdei to claim my afternoon coconut, and meet Kwan again, so I headed back.  On my bike back, they passed me on a moto, and I smiled and waved.  When I made it to Banteay Kdei, another girl that I had seen the previous day came up to me.  We talked for a bit, and I gave her a dollar for bracelet, as I had promised I would.  She gave me two instead of one, and we walked to meet and sit with Kwan.  The details of the conversation were small, but the moment was very nice.  Kwan and the girl from whom I bought the bracelet taught me some Cambodian as Kwan made me another bracelet.  I drank my coconut water and enjoyed this connection between people from far flung parts of the world.  After she finished my bracelet, we walked out of the temple area, and I suddenly found myself surrounded by children.  Kwan stole my bike, and when it was returned, another girl sat down on it saying I had to take her with me.  It was all in good fun, and it lifted my spirits and made me feel very grateful for these moments of intimacy with the people of Cambodia.  I received two bracelets and an ornament from them as gifts, which I am now wearing.

I headed back to Hanumalaya in the dark, which was not very worrisome, except at one point I think the lights of a moto illuminated a snake in the middle of the road.  I think I was protected by the all good luck I received from the children!  At Hanumanalaya, I showered and changed, and then headed into the market for dinner.  I decided that I would do some cheap eats, so I found Behind Bars, a cute little restaurant making pho and Khmer food.  I sat down to a large bowl of soup and Evian Water for $3.50.  The food was cooked in a little stall by the street, so I kept smiling at the woman to show my approval.

As I was awaiting my change, a man (Etienne) and woman (Lisa) walked by checking out the menu.  I started a conversation with them.  The woman was from Vancouver, so I mentioned Luluemon.  That sealed the deal.  After grabbing my change, I walked with them, showing them the area.  They had just arrived from Bangkok and were sharing a guest room together.  We checked out some of the sights, and they settled at Kama Sutra, and I joined them for a chai.  Much conversation ensued on a variety of topics.  I learned just how much other people travel-the infamous “holiday.”  While I could record the conversations (which went from politics to the ribald), it just struck me that this is exactly how travel should be: constant connections.  I ended up hanging with them for the rest of the night.  We meant up with an Aussie couple at Dead Fish Tower, and then we went to the Angkor What? bar for drinks.

When we arrived Angkor What?, I noticed the sign at the bar that said, “This is not a Tourist Information Center – So Shut Up and Drink.”  Laughing, I considered a drink, and settled on Sol beer (which Etienne had ordered).  The bar was packed with ex-pats and the accents were a bewildering mix.  The place was the classic definition of raucous, and it was great.  We stood and sat and chatted.  Etienne was bewildered by my lack of interest in leaving Siem Reap, and said I should at least head to Phnom Penh.  I wasn’t so sure-I don’t lean towards the absolutely adventurous, unless others suggest or initiate it.  Eventually (around midnight!) we separated, and I biked back to Hanumanalaya.  I found the gate closed, but luckily, someone was there to let me in.  Tired, but happy, I ended up spending an hour talking to John and Loren back at home.  Assured that I had a job when I got back, I feel asleep at 1:30 AM for my last day of Angkor temples.

Today I experienced an interesting twist on the whole begging phenomenon: Buddhist Begging.

I am not very conversant with Buddhist philosophy on social issues like poverty.  However, it appears that one key component of Buddhism is giving to those less fortunate.  In almost all places where there is a Buddha there is also an offering bowl.  At the statue of Vishnu (not a Buddha!), there is a plexiglass box for people to place money into.  At one of the temples I visited where I was accosted (Preah Khan) at the end of the tour, the tour guide tried to tell me by paying him it would be “good luck for you.”

Hmmmm…

Unfortunately, my belief structure doesn’t really include this kind of thought process.  While I am increasingly-thanks to the beautiful and loving Patrick-attuned to service and to charity, even more so then before, I don’t get the idea that I get luckier by giving my money away.  Let me restate that-I don’t get luckier by being guilted into giving my money away.  In fact, it seems like spiritual ransoming when people do that.  Consequently, I bristle at the  concept when it’s presented to me.  And, up to this point, I have found my lack of putting money into said plexiglass box-I was planning on doing it on my last day at Angkor-has not caused any problems.

It appears, though, that the Buddha is desperate on Sundays.

I awoke this morning at my usual hour of 4:15, showered, dressed, and headed out on my bike to Angkor Wat to pray.  After 108 “Shri Rama”s, I moved over to a statue that I had not previously noticed.  I heard a tour guide say that it was Lakshmi, Vishnu’s consort, and my beloved Goddess.  Even if he was wrong, if the Buddhists could turn Vishnu into Buddha, then a Vedist could turn a Buddha into Lakshmi. (I think this is a little known aspect of the first law of thermodynamics: gods are neither created nor destroyed, they are only transformed.)  So I sat down to do 108 Lakshmi chants and the Astakam Stotram.  While I was doing this, I detected through my closed eyes that someone had lit a candle, and so I expected to find my gentle old man preparing the space around Vishnu.  Instead, when I opened my eyes, a young gentleman was there.  He proceeded to show me how to pray to the Buddha (IT’S NOT BUDDHA!!!), and then pointed out a ersatz donation plate.  He then said those dreaded words: “good luck for you.”

Rather than ruining my deep sense of calm by accessing my dislike of this phrase, I left two dollars and headed off to the Buddha.  I only spent a moment with the Buddha because I wanted to be off to Preah Khan.  I had seen it with an unwanted sidekick previously, so I wanted to be with the temple without personal interference.  So I quickly hopped on my bike and speed off to Preah Khan.  On the way out-and I am so sorry that I didn’t take a picture-I saw the biggest pig I have EVER seen.  It was literally the size of a cow.  I laughed and told myself that if I saw it on my way back I would take a picture (I didn’t).  Through Angkor Thom and out on the trail of the Great Circuit I went, passing under and out the northern gates of Angkor Thom, where the “churning the sea of milk” balustrade was much the worse for wear. (The asuras now outnumbered the devas, which would have very much changed the story).  An uneventful ride led me to the Preah Kahn, the Sacred Sword temple.

After showing my pass to the guards, I headed down the sandy path to the Western entrance.  From here, I proceeded into the main temple grounds.  In the rising morning sun, the temple was incredibly peaceful.  The only sound were the birds, insects, and my booted feet stepped over the stones.  Without my guide, I was free to explore as I would like.  In one of my jyotish readings, Katyayani Poole told me that part of my chart indicated a preference for “wandering the jungle chanting mantras.”  There’s a good deal of truth in that.  If no one had ever shown up there, I could have spent a very comfortable and pleasurable day exploring each and every stone and drawing of the temple.  In fact, as I was walking, I discovered a cast-off stone structure that looked like a statue of some divine figure that had once been set into a wall.  To give you a modern image-remember in Star Wars Episode 6 when Han Solo was frozen in carbonite?  He was mounted into a wall in Jabba’s palace.  That is what this piece looked like.  I thought it amazing for this piece of sacred art to just be sitting there, waiting for someone to catalogue it, rebuild it, something.

I took a fair amount of pictures at Preah Khan.  Eventually, my solitary reverie among forest and stone, by the arrival of the Buddhist caretakers, and a man in a police hat who started to tell me about the room in which we were in.  I politely cut him short, knowing if I let him continue, I would become agitated, and I didn’t want that to happen.  I walked away towards the north gate of the temple. At this gate, I circle around to the impressive East gate, to note how people were intended to see the temple.  From here, I walked back through the temple, and located an image of Vishnu reclining on Ananta, attended by Lakshmi.  After honoring them, I walked back to the front of the temple, and headed back to my bicycle.  It was close to 8:15, so I decided to head back to Hanumanalaya for breakfast.

On my way back, I stopped at the terraces to see if I could find the leper king statue, not yet knowing that I had found it (see previous post).  Bemused at where this standings statue might be, and with the morning sun starting to irritate my pitta nature, I biked back to Hanumanalaya.  When I arrived, I checked my laptop for messages, and found one from Patrick saying that everyone at Burning Lotus wanted to say hello.  I audio connected to him at Burning Lotus, and then we talked for a bit after I was done with breakfast and he was back at home.

Around 10:30 or so, I headed out again, determined to see the “Tomb Raider” temple, Ta Prohm.  On my way out, I stopped at two small temples, Chau Say Tevoda and Thommanon.  One of the few things that I find frustrating with the Buddhist retrofit of previously Hindu temples is that they seal in three of the four doors.  In Hindu temples, the statues of the Gods are put in rooms that are opened to all four directions.  In Buddhism, only the door leading to the Buddha is left open.  In the pictures from temples, you can see these fill in walls, usually with four blocks on them.  Because of my Vedic bent, I wish they had left them open.

While I was at Chau Say Tevoda, I was chased down by a woman carrying three sticks of incense.  Evidently, the Buddha was still hard up for American dollars, and had come to find me in the form of this slight woman.  She handed me the incense and led me to the Buddha.  I waved the incense as she asked, and to forestall any language barrier issues, I left some money on the donation plate.  After these two startling incidents of forceful karmic robbery, I decided to head to Ta Prohm, where I suspected that Buddha would find me again.

He did not but I was pestered by a young girl selling booking on Angkor Wat and Pol Pot while I drank fresh coconut water.  After my refreshment, I walked through Ta Prohm.  It was indeed the Tomb Raider temple, and Ta Prohm, unlike the other temples, was being consumed by the forest.  This fact gave it a kind of dreamlike quality. I would have loved to see it first thing in the morning, completely devoid of other people.  It is completely and totally ruinous, with large piles of rubble within the temple making it impossible to see certain rooms.  I scrambled with glee over the stones, tempting fate that I would be caught by some overly concerned representative of Apsara.  I wasn’t going to find some hidden treasure like Angelina Jolie, but it awoke my sense of adventure (and naughtiness).  I found the Tomb Raider tree, and braved remonstrance by crossing the rope and taking an up close picture (don’t tell!).

I continued to wander around Ta Prohm for a some time, and then decided to return to Banteay Kdei to see Kwan as I promised.  She saw me and smiled.  I bought a few items as gifts for family and friends back home, and then sat a had more coconut water and meat.  There were about 5 other Cambodians there, and I listened to them talk.  I think some things were said about me, which of course I did not understand.  The one thing this experience taught me was to not leave a person out of a conversation.  But, on the other hand, it was pleasant just to sit and listen to them banter while I ate my coconut.  After some time, I bade them farewell, promising to come back tomorrow (said without a smile).

I biked back to Hanumanalaya, and finished my blog of the events for yesterday.  I then showered, and headed into town for a nice dinner at the Blue Pumpkin, ending with an ice cream sundae (yum!).  Although I intended to walk around the market, I decided to head back to the hotel, and write this blog entry.  I started the many photos uploading to Facebook, and turned on Yungchen Lhamo’s album Ama to accompany me as I write.  I am not feeling as fatigued as I did yesterday, perhaps because I did not work as hard today as I did yesterday!

The plan for tomorrow is to tackle Phnom Bakheng, Prasat Kravan, Preah Neak Pean, and Eastern Mebon.  My Angkor pass expires on Tuesday, so I preparing to wind down my temple viewing.  What an amazing experience it has been!

According to Lonely Planet, there is a point where the average visitor to the Cambodian temples experiences “temple fatigue.”  I would imagine this is the point where you can’t take one more apsara, buddha, or lingam without going on a crazed rampage.  This crazed rampage might be marked by buying all the postcards from the local children and then attempting to sell them yourself to tourists.  Imagine, if you will, the chaos.

I didn’t quite experience that type of temple fatigue today.  However, I did experience physical fatigue brought on my a whole lot of sweating and climbing.  Today’s adventures led to me to explore Bayon, Baphuon, and the surrounding areas.  I realized in my earlier posts that I had confused Bayon and Baphuon.  Bayon is the kingdom of many faces.  Baphuon is practically speaking unseeable, since it has been under restoration work for over 10 years.  Consequently, wherever I mention Baphuon, strike it and replace with Bayon.

The day began as usual — arising at 4:30 AM and heading to Angkor Wat for prayers at the statue of Vishnu and praise to the Buddha.  I learned later in the day that the statue of Vishnu to which I was directing my mantras once sat in the main chamber at the center of Angkor Wat.  Ancient pilgrims would have transversed space and time through the sacred geometry of Angkor to arrive at the great preserver of the universe.  After my prayers, during which time the caretakers of the areas just arrived, I headed out to the Buddha.  The sun was rising, but the full moon was still in the sky, inspiring a beautiful dichotomy of the Western moon and the Eastern Sun — a true moment of hatha yoga!  After a brief moment of silence at the Buddha, I headed off to Bayon.

I had visited Bayon the previous day, but I have discovered that it is almost essential to visit key spots before the tourist crush.  90% of people spend their temple hopping morning at Angkor Wat for the dramatic sunrise. (I’ve actually never watched the sunrise-I’ve been praying.  They’re temples, people!)  So I had Bayon to myself for a good deal of time, which was amazing.  Bayon’s layout feels so much more compact, compared to Angkor, with the second level feeling very much smashed in between the first and the third.  When you climb to the third, however, there is the spacious of the sky and faces everywhere.  According to Lonely Planet, they are the faces of the Boddhisattva Avalokiteshvara made to look very close to the face of the royal patron, Jayavarman VII.  When I saw them, I thought they were the faces of asuras and devas, which I suppose is somewhat close.

I wandered around the beautiful third level, tempted to climb out to the faces that were near the edge of the third floor.  However, both my fear of being caught and my respect for the structure prevented me.  As people began to arrive, I descended and walked the first floor, which was filled with long reliefs depicting scenes from the king’s life.  I simply love scrambling through these temples to get closer to the temple carvings and reliefs.  So I explored and took pictures of these amazing images.  I ended my second visit of Bayon by climbing to the top of the library, and walking around the edge of it.  The climb up was easier than the climb down, so I carefully made my way down the short, narrow flight of steps and then proceed over to Baphuon.

Baphuon looks impressive from a distance, but like some of the Angkor temples, it is completely inaccessible. Evidently, they have been working on it for some time, and my hope is that it is done before I die, because it looks incredible.  I circumambulated the building, but there was little to see.  An promised view of a Buddha failed to materialize, so I left the complex Buddha-less.  I will say that entry bridge is very scenic though.

I cut through the all of Baphuon and found myself in a small commerce area, which I quickly moved through to prevent the inevitable sales pitches.  This was Phimeanakas, the Celestial Palace.  Not so celestial anymore, but a wonderfully thrilling climb up a step set of stairs to reach the top.  I was immediately accosted by a young man who insisted on giving me a tour punctuated with anecdotes that I really didn’t need to pay for.  While I understand the intention behind it, and I am compassionate towards the general poverty, I am here to visit these temples because they are temples.  Since it is a spiritual pilgrimage for me, and I want to experience the temples in peace, the constant nagging for tours or being absconded by a somewhat informed local becomes aggravating.  I escaped by paying him a dollar, to which he commented that he knew I had another dollar.  Since throwing him off the top of the building would probably spark an international incident, I explained that the dollar was for water, and then left.  I descended Phimeanakas sans pictures and with a touch of annoyance.

From there, I headed to the terraces that are in the area.  These are the Terrace of Elephants and the Terrace of the Leper King.  The terrace of the elephants was obvious (look for the terrace with all the elephant carvings), but the terrace of the leper king threw me for a loop.  I blame Lonely Planet which used the term “stands” in its description of the statue.  I in fact saw and photographed the leper king, which was a reproduction of the original (he looked way too fresh to be original).  There were several small temples in the area that I clambered around.  I didn’t check for any of their names, because they are mostly ruins, with little in the way of carvings or architectural notes.

I decided from here to follow the “Little Route,” which completed a smaller tour of the temples than the Grand Route.  The little route, including the distance already covered from Angkor Wat was around 17km.  I headed off on my journey, feeling a little bit of road fatigue from all the biking, but excited to see what the little route contained.

After a few kilometers of biking, I came to Ta Keo.  My only comments on this is that it is hell to climb, but you get to talk with God at the top.  It’s actually a fairly boring temple architecturally, but the climb is killer, and the view spectacular.  I was climbing up, I decided to do the Sri Rama mantra both to cleanse my karma and ensure a positive rebirth should I fall during the climb.  Stairs like these are marked with signs that say “Climb At Your Own Risk.”  They do mean it.  I was surprised that they hadn’t put in a stairway, but perhaps there was one at another part of the temple.

Having braved the climb to the summit of Ta Keo, I headed down and back on the road.  In a short while, I found myself at a place I recognized.  I was a little surprised, expecting the junction of the Grand Route and the Little Route to be farther along.  Nevertheless, I turned right and found myself passing by Bantey Kdei, an old Buddhist school/ashram.  I decided to dismount and head in.  I was assaulted by the usual group of young girls looking to sell me something.  I fended them off and headed into the structure.  The area felt surprisingly peaceful, as if the energy of the ancient school was still there.  I wandered amidst the stone, enjoying the peace and quiet.

As I exited, I was again attacked by the young girls.  For some reason, I decided to banter, and was rewarded by the quick wit of a young girl named Kwan.  I told her I would come back tomorrow, and she said that I was lying.  I asked her how she knew (I was), and she said then when I smiled and said it, it was a lie.  Impressed with this analysis, I repeated the fact that I would come back with a straight face.  She laughed.  By this time, we were joined by a girl selling books.  She joined in the fun.  We bantered back and forth for a bit, and I told them that I was going but I would come back.  The girl selling books asked me to pinkie promise.  I was entirely amused and surprised by this gesture, so I pinkie promised and left Bantey Kdei.

From Bantey Kdei, I decided to headed back to Angkor Wat to meditate at the statue of Vishnu.  As I entered the sanctuary, I decided to sit in the window sill, since hordes of tourists were wandering through.  From my time sitting there and watching, I can make the follow observations.  First of all, white people think of Vishnu as a photo op.  One gentleman in particular stood along side the statue as if Vishnu were some Cambodian worker they grabbed to provide proof that they were indeed in Cambodia.  The French-toujours les Français!-took pictures of Him as if he were Jerry Lewis.  On the other hand, many of the Asians showed him deep respect and reverence as if he were the Buddha.  This, of course, impressed me-it’s a temple, people!-but it also amused me because Vishnu is not Buddha, and vice versa.  Of course, some believe that the Buddha was the last incarnation of Vishnu, but I don’t think any of those people are actually Buddhist.  I watched their reverence with respect, noticing the different actions they took.

I took a few moments to meditate there in padmasana.  The old gentlemen who was there previously was there with me, and we both sat quietly.  I got up from my meditation, lit incense to Vishnu, and placed it in the offering bowl.  I then went and bowed before the old man to show my respect.  He grasped my hands and spoke to me in Cambodian, which I did not understand, but I hope that they were positive.  From here, I left Angkor Wat to return to Hanumanalaya.  Once again, I enjoyed a soothing dip in the pool, with the blessing of water flowing from Ganesha’s trunk.

I decided to shower and head into town for dinner at Soup Dragon.  On this trip I finally figured out how the streets worked, and avoided a useless circling of the main area.  Feeling pleased with myself, I settled into a meal of spring rolls and Khmer soup.  Way too much food with a  1.5L mineral water for $8.50.  Fabulous!  Stuffed, I wandered the streets for a moment, and located the main gay bar, Linga Bar, in the alley.  For those who don’t know, the linga are the phallic statues found in Hindu temples.  They symbolize fertility, and represent Shiva.  I appreciated their subtlety, since Hard Phallic Object Bar might have been a little over the top.  In passing by Linga Bar I also located the other two gays vacationing in Siem Reap.  Feeling that three of us together might have caused a spontaneous explosion of musical numbers, I decided to grab my bike and head back to Hanumanalaya.

Tired from my day, I crashed, failing to even get past the first page of “The Spiritual Brain,” my newest reading material.

Every once in a while, an American news channel will run an expose on how unaware Americans are about their own country.  For example, they will ask American’s a simple question, such as “Who was the fourth president of the United States?”  Following that will be a set of cut-scene interviews with Americans stating various alternatives to “ummm” or answer that is completely nonsensical (“Ummm… I don’t know… Oprah?”).  Then, they will cut to a Chinese girl stating the name of the fourth president of the United States, his vice-president, and name of his second cousin.  This is, of course, done to show that even the Chinese know more about the United States than its own citizens.

I’ve actually discovered why that is: they need to know it to sell postcards.

Yesterday, I decided to bike the “Grand Circuit” of the Angkor temples.  This is something like 13 or 26 km, I can’t remember which.  My days here have developed something of a rhythm.  Wake up early, bike to Angkor Wat, do mantra and meditate at the statue of Vishnu, pay my respects at the statue of Buddha, and then proceed to wander off around the temple or temples.  My day today started much the same way, but slightly later than my previous 4:30 AM jaunts.  Patrick and I have been staying in touch on a daily basis, last night it meant staying up until 10:00 PM or so.  So instead of 4:30, I woke up at 6:30.

By the time I arrived at Angkor Wat, the sun was mostly up.  I meditate in front of the statue of Vishnu, and then did a mala of the mantra “Sri Rama Jaya Rama Jaya Jaya Rama.”  After I arose, an older man asked me a question which I thought was in Cambodian.  I think that he—as I’ve said before—was surprised and pleased at my actions.  Perhaps he himself was a devotee, or at least held deep respect for the gods.  He asked me where I was from, and I told him.  He smiled at me, a one-toothed gesture of kindness.  I bowed to Vishnu’s feet and rubbed my head with the dust, and then ambled across the bridge to the Room of 1000 Buddhas.  I offered 108 “Om Mane Padme Hum”s and then left the temple to head back into town for breakfast at Hanumanalaya.

When I arrived at Hanumanalaya, I dropped my possessions in my room and headed to the dining area.  Shortly after, I was joined by Marina, my Flemish friend from yesterday.  I invited her to join me, and we spent a wonderfully companionable breakfast discussing her day yesterday, mine, and many other things.  We discussed her world travels, the various conditions of countries that she had visited, and the politics of colonialism, race, and terrorism.  When I was flying from Seoul to Siem Reap, there were several French tourists on board, and due to our discussion, I figured out why.  Evidently, residents of former colonial powers never get tired of visiting them.  But also, in a way, the people of former colonial areas seem to welcome the return of these people.  At the end of breakfast, we exchanged emails, so I hope that we get connected by Facebook soon!

After breakfast, I grabbed my bicycle, and headed up towards Angkor Thom, a major stronghold of the Khmer empire in the early part of the 10th/11th century.  As I biked up the road, I came to the entry way to Bayon.  The bridge itself consisted of multiple statues with strikingly familiar faces, all pulling on something.  (I would later learn that it was another representation of “churning the sea of milk” from Vedic myth.)  The entry at the end of the bridge was an impressive edifice, topped with a face looking outward.  Ah ha!  This is the “Tomb Raider” area!  For those who have not seen Lara Croft’s Tomb Raider, part of it is set in Cambodia, and the ruins of several temples are featured in the film.

I biked through the gate onto Bayon.  When I arrived, I discovered I forgot my bike lock key.  While it was probably completely safe to leave my bike there unlocked, I felt that it might have been a little too risky since I did not notice any guards or people checking temple passes.  So I left my bike near some other ones, and wandered into Bayon.  As I said yesterday, Bayon is a bit more ruinous than Angkor Wat.  In fact, much of the temple is a rumble yard of stones culled from the temple.  These stones will eventually be used in conjunction with the rebuilding projects run by APSARA—the German created restoration team—and a Japanese team helping to preserve Angkor.

As I walked around, I started to take some pictures with my iPhone.  After about 4 or so, it stopped working.  I was puzzled, and then realized that I had recently resynced it, and all of the space on the phone was taken by music.  Resigned to not taking pictures for the rest of the day, I scrambled around the temple of 216 faces.  Even with pictures, it would be hard to describe the sense of being watched everywhere you turn, faces everywhere.  Unlike Angkor Wat, the layout of this temple is a little bit more condensed, and less airy.  On the first floor, dimly lit rooms are everywhere, holding either a lingam (an ancient Hindu symbol of fertility associated with Shiva) or a Buddha (demonstrating the shifting state of religion from king to king historically, as well as a the Buddhist present of Cambodia).

After walking around in awe for a bit, I decided to retrieve my bicycle and go for the big ride.  Right outside of Baphuon is the main complex of Bayon.  This consists of a series of terraces, that once held buildings.  According to Lonely Planet, it would have been the parade ground of the king, and it would have indeed been grand.  I did not stop, but continued on.  Exiting through a gate similar to the one through which I entered, I pedaled off into the wilderness.  The area outside of Angkor Thom was quiet and peaceful—very pleasant to bike through.  After a while I came upon another temple, and started to pass by it.  However, I decided to at least check it out.

As I walked up to the temple, I bought a pineapple from a young girl, and proceeded up to the temple.  A young man was squatting near the entrance.  Before I knew it, he had attached himself to me and was giving me a tour.  Internally, I was a little amused, because I knew this tour wouldn’t be free, but I figured I’d see what I could learn.  It turns out he was actually rather knowledgeable about the temple.  As was common with most guides though, it seemed like his knowledge was from memory as opposed to really understanding what he was leading me through.  Of course, my command of Hinduism and Vedic myth was probably a little bit strong than his, but it also struck me that he didn’t know the name of the version of the Ramayana told in Cambodia.  Each time I tried to ask him, he said, “It’s a Hindu story.”  Ah well.

So, I was lead through the temple.  The big learning point for me with this temple was how each king altered the temple based on the sponsored religion.  When Buddhism fell out of favor, certain carvings were removed, leaving blank holes.  One of the key signs that Hinduism lost over Buddhism was the sealing of rooms that were once upon to all four directions to just one.  (I would later notice this at other temples as well).  This temple also had a reclining Vishnu on his serpent, attended by Lakshmi (Shrim Hrim!).  At the end of the tour, he asked for a donation.  I had 2 dollars and 1 thousand riel in my pocket.  I knew better then to part with both dollars (water was typically a dollar), so I offered him a dollar.  He insisted on two.  I let him know that I need my last dollar for water, and he then asked if I had riel.  I gave him the thousand riel (about 25 cents), and headed on my way.

I continued to bike my way across the Grand Circuit, which is fairly quiet and lush.  The quiet was occasionally punctuated by tuk tuks, and the lushness by turn offs to dirt roads or temples.  I hard very little sense of time while I was biking along, although I did have my iPhone and could have checked.  As I continued to bike, my buttocks began to tire of the hard bike seat.  I began to regret my decision to bike around all of the temples, but was committed to doing it anyway.  This commitment was solidified by the fact that I didn’t know where I was in terms of distance, and so rather than be going back when I was over halfway there (turns out that I wasn’t), I decided to keep going.

I ended up stopping at another temple, and wandering in.  Unlike Angkor Wat or Angkor Thom, many of these temples are set far off the road, and are less grand in scale.  When I got in the temple, another group of English speaking tourists were there.  A young man with longish hair, a Nova Scotia cap, and skin blighted with a slight amount of acne, was sharing his knowledge of the temple.  I appreciated the enthusiasm with which he shared his knowledge with his friends.  I wandered deeper into the temple, admiring the architecture (unfortunately sans camera).  I think this temple may have been the one featured in Tomb Raider, since there was opening with tree roots wrapped around it.  It was at this door that I met two little boys.

As I was about to walk through the door, I struck up a brief conversation with another tourist.  As we were chatting, the young boy came up and started offering me 10 postcards for $1.  He started counting off the postcards first in English, then French, then Spanish.  The tourist with me smiled, as I laughed.  The young boy asked me were I was from.  I was familiar with this game already, so I stopped him by saying, “Are you going to name my president and the capital of my country.”  He smiled, knowing he was caught.  I turned to me tourist friend, who I believe was from Holland or Denmark, and had him tell the young boy where he was from.  I asked him do you know that capital.  He thought for a movement and said, “I don’t know.”  I was immediately taken by his sweetness and good humor.

My young salesman then challenged me to a game of Tic-Tac-Toe, which, if he should win, I would have to buy the postcards.  I guess I wasn’t paying good attention because I think he won, but either way, I had decided I would give him a dollar, but in exchange he would have to teach me some Cambodian.  So, we went over to a rock, and I pulled out my trusty Lonely Planet guide.  When he saw it, he said, “Lonely Planet Cambodia” with a smile.  I showed him the page, and asked him how to pronounce “Hello,” “Goodbye,” “No,” “Yes,” and “Thank You.”  Another young boy had joined us, and he was smiling.  As I keep repeating, I don’t think they knew what to do with me.  At the end my lesson, I handed the boy a dollar with an “aw kohm.”  I wanted to ruffle his hair, but I remember Lonely Planet saying that it would be considered disrespectful.  So, leaving him untousled, I headed back to my bike and got back on the road.

I visited one more temple during that ride, but I don’t remember what its name was.  So I biked along, finally completing the entire circuit and ending up back at Angkor Wat.  At this point, I could only think about how sore my bum was, and how tired my legs were.  I vacillated on returning to Hanumanalaya, or simply biking into town for food, as I was getting very hungry.  I figured that if I stopped at Hanumanalaya it would be all over, so I dragged my numb backside and legs via bicycle down to Pub Street.  I decided to settle at the Funky Munky for a drink and a burger.  After ordering and quickly sucking down two lime shakes, my burger arrived.  I must admit, the burger was rather disappointing, especially since the total bill ran to a very un-economical $10 dollars.

Fed, watered, but a little disappointed, I headed over to the Blue Pumpkin so that I could use their wi-fi to access my email.  I ended up getting a tasty little pastry (to erase my disappointment from Funky Munky), and drinking a watermelon smoothie.  I sat for a bit, dreading having to get back on the bike.  However, I finally relented, and rode back to Hanumanalaya.  It was a little bit after 5:00 when I arrived.  I immediately changed into swim clothes and released the dirt and tension of the day into the cool waters.  A small side area features a place where one could sit, so I sat underneath one of the elephant heads that feed the pool (Jai Ganesha!).  It felt wonderful to feel the flow of water over my head and back.  The water was cold enough to catch my breath in my chest and strong enough to give me a gentle massage.

Now relaxed and full, I turned my attention to email and a little bit of writing.  It was only 6:30, but fatigue was setting in.  I set my phone to go off at 10:00 PM so that I could catch Patrick.  I awoke at 10:00, but the wi-fi was frustratingly recalcitrant.  In my semi-somnolent state, I abandoned the vagaries of technology and, regretting my inability to chat with my love, I soon drifted off to sleep.

Pictures for this day: Set 1 | Set 2

There’s a saying that goes something like: “It’s just like riding a bike; once you learn, you never forget.” I would like to, from personal experience, question the validity of that statement. I have discovered that you can indeed forget how to ride a bike, and that this forgetting can, awkwardly, occur when you are visiting a small southeast Asian country whose capital is Phnom Penh.

Ahem.

I ended yesterday at 1:00 in the afternoon. I feel asleep quite deeply and woke up feeling refreshed at 12:30 AM. While I am sure there are things to do at 12:30 AM in Siem Reap, I was not prepared to try them. Determined to return to sleep, I rolled over and willed myself into sleep, clearly demonstrating my own lack of adherence to the yoga principles I teach. If any of my students are reading this, remember: you cannot relax the mind with the mind! Since poor beginnings usually have poor endings, I could not get back to sleep. I arose from bed at around 2:00 AM and decided to use the clarity of mind associated with the morning hour to do some writing on raja yoga. For those who are wondering why I am doing this, it is for a workbook for a yoga immersion I am teaching in Lodi in 2009. I am also planning on doing said immersion in Sacramento, and am available to teach it anywhere else on the planet as well. Shameless plug ends here.

At around 4:30 I decided I would do the tourist thing and head to Angkor Wat to watch the sunrise. Now, if you read my somewhat acerbic post yesterday, you will know that I was a tad disenchanted with Siem Reap upon first looks. In response to my burgeoning awareness that I would be at the mercy of men with motorbikes for the rest of the journey, I decided to check on a bicycle rental for the remainder of my trip. I enquired at the front desk regarding one, and the very friendly front desk attendant told me that it would cost $5 a day. Having consulted Lonely Planet, who indicated $1 – $2 at most, I decided to raise this point. I was told that I would be “insured” if I paid for the bike. Hmmmm. Well, I quickly did the Siem Reap/Angkor Wat math in my head. $2 per moto ride. At the very least that would equate to $4 a day. So, for one more dollar, I could have complete freedom, and I would also get some exercise. I opted to say yes to the bicycle.

So at 4:45 AM, I stepped outside my room and requested my bicycle. Once again, I had a vision of a new Giant or Schwinn bike being paraded around like a prized horse. Instead, I was presented with a rather flimsy road bike. My exotic travel persona was not pleased. But freedom doesn’t have to look pretty-it just has to be free (or $5)-so I hopped on and started to bike. Much to my horror, I almost fell off. This was humiliating! So proud of my attempts to be both eco-conscious and blend in with the Khmer people; now I was just “that humiliated white guy.” I cursed the person who said that riding a bike was something that could not be forgotten. Finally, I got my bike legs and started off towards Angkor Wat.

While I realized that it was dark-I was going to see the sunrise at Angkor, after all-I had not realized that darkness also meant “not able to see the road.” Within town, local lights cast a good light to ride by. But by the time I started to head out of town, I realized that it was pitch black out there. Fortunately, many cars and tuk tuks were heading out to the temple, so I could ride by their artificial light. I arrived at the crossroads at which one turns left to get to Angkor without incident. Feeling overly secure, I then almost lost it into a ditch immediately at the turn off to Angkor. Deprecating myself to anyone who could hear, I got myself right and headed off to Angkor.

I suppose its worth mentioning that during this entire ride, I felt entirely safe. The interesting thing about driving in Cambodia is that everyone knows that there are no rules. Consequently, everyone is paying attention, and has a kind of internal sense of when to go and when to slow down. Everything flows with a kind of grace; go with it, and everything is fine. I had noticed this flow from the back of motos, and so now I just went with it.

I arrived at Angkor with no incident, and locked my bike onto a pole. An idea that it might not be there when I got back did cross my mind, but I didn’t really worry about it. I started to head towards the temple, enjoying the nascent dawn starting to outline the towers. I wandered across the causeway, and immediately walked over to the statue of Vishnu. Three young boys were there, and their faces looked quite a bit surprised at my presence, particularly when I fell to my knees and pressed my palms into anjali mudra. I closed my eyes and simply sat in the presence of Vishnu. One of the boys cleared his throat, and so I opened my eyes. He offered me to take some incense. He mimed the movement of the incense, “One. Two. Three.” I took three of the sticks and moved them in the appropriate fashion, before placing them into the pot. I continued to kneel there in prayer, which I think also surprised them. As I sat there, I felt the emotions beginning to rise again. However, I also knew that I was in a prime movement zone for tourists, so I moved to the corner of the room and folded my legs into sukhasana and meditated with my eyes closed.

As I sat there, I began to feel the tears rising in my eyes. Across my chest I felt a familiar band of tension. I continued to sit with it, feeling nothing in particular, but aware of the rising and falling of something inside of me. At one point, the youngest boy-I felt it to be the youngest boy because my eyes were closed-started to sing. I had no idea if he was reciting a Buddhist prayer or singing a pop song, but I felt myself starting cry harder and harder. My eyes were closed, but I was sure both the three young boys (and the tourists) were somewhat astounded by the sight of this Westerner, sitting cross-legged in the corner of a room, meditating and weeping. As I sat, my thoughts rose and fell, moving from the banal to fragment of chants to Vishnu in his incarnation of Rama, and the associated incarnations of Sita and Hanuman. From time to time, streams of tears would flow down my cheeks, and would then ebb.

After awhile, I opened my eyes. One of the young boys smiled at me, and I smiled back. I continued to gaze upon Vishnu. One of the boys, dressed in a saffron robe, sat in the window sill, the left side of his face covered by part of his covering. A Buddhist nun swept the floor with a broom, stooped over, her brown face shriveled, but kind. Eventually I stood up, two of the children still watching me. I went over to the feet of Vishnu, and rubbed the dust from his feet on my forehead three times and then took my hands to my heart. This is gesture that I adopted from watching others, and from the ancient wisdom that says that we polish our hearts with dust from our guru’s feet. I left the chamber and walked out into the area of the main walkway.

As I stood there, I understood what I was looking for coming here. I was looking to be cracked open. People close to me know that I consider myself a bhakti yogin. I am drawn to the path of loving the divine, and using the stories of Hanuman, Sita, and Ram, and the kirtan and chanting as a way to achieve yoga. Inside, I often feel so deeply moved by the chanting that I hear that it draws tears to my eyes. I remember weeping loudly when talking with Patrick early in our relationship about my desire to be like Hanuman, and how short I fell of his wondrous and deep devotion and love to God. As I sat there in the presence of Vishnu, I could feel the familiar tightness around my heart-a hardness that has lived there for some time. I know that this space inside of me is this great well of emotion held back by a dam that I never remember building but that I think has been there for many years. I so wanted it to burst, to feel inside of myself anything, anything at all akin to that deep longing and ocean of love that I sing to, read about, and try to connect with. What I felt when that young boy sung was a purity and innocence that I longed to feel inside, that could unleash the greatness of my heart so that I could love more deeply and longer than I had ever before.

I joined the meandering tourists, walking quietly to the room of 1000s buddhas. When I was there yesterday, I had noticed the large statue of buddha in that room, and I wanted to pay homage. When I arrived, I went over to the statue and kneeled down. A young boy and Buddhist nun sat there; the young boy watching me, and the nun preparing the space. I pressed my hands into anjali mudra, and kneeled in quiet. After a few minutes, I felt a desire to chant “Om Mani Padme Hum.” I unwound my mala from my wrist, and did 108 repetitions of the chant, after which I chanted “gate gate paragate parasamgate boddhi swaha,” a traditional mantra associated with the Buddha.

After I opened my eyes, I proceeded to try to light some incense. The nun took them from me gently and lit them for me, and then gave them back to me. I performed that same gesture as I did at Vishnu, and then placed them in the sand. She then grabbed another incense stick, lit it, and handed it to me with a smile, her brown cheeks shining and her eyes filled with what I felt to be great kindness. I took the proffered incense with gratitude, and waved it over me a few times, and then placed it in the sand. I then bowed down to the earth, and got up. As I walked the young boy watched me with an intention that I could not interpret. I wandered out into the sunlight and into the grassy area that separated the main building from the outermost square that held the large bas relief panels. I spent some time scaling into the small buildings in this area, deciding to take some pictures of the various carvings and statues.

Angkor Wat has several recurring architectural themes. One of them is apsaras, heavenly nymphs. One might jokingly call Angkor Wat “Apsara Village” for they are everywhere. There is also images of flames, often with a picture of meditating holy man (called an essai). These flames are there to purify pilgrims who walk through the temples. I wandered through, viewing the carvings, and stopping to investigate some that held particular interest for me. I was viewing them mostly for inspiration for yoga, but their body positions were relatively constant: caught mid-dance in a position that reminded me of something from the Bharatha Natyam. I wandered the halls, taking pictures.

Eventually, I made my way to the bas-relief walls. These walls are extended depictions of scenes from Vedic myth, with one wall given over the life and times of the ancient Khmer ruler who built the temple. I found images of my beloved Hanuman holding his friend Rama in his battle against Ravana. I also found Hanuman helping Churn the Ocean of Milk. I was disappointed to not see Lakshmi popping out of the ocean, but I might have missed it. The iconography is very similiar to Vedic art, but not precisely. Hanuman, in particular, looks a little bit fiercer, and less human, then in the Hindu representations. I found Yama, the lord of the dead, and the depictions of heaven and hell, and a scene from the Mahabharata, where the Pandava and Kaurava armies clashed on the field of Kurukshetra. It would be impossible in one short viewing to notice all the details in that temple, so I didn’t try. I would undoubtedly be going back, so I wanted to enjoy the overall sweep of the images.

I spent a couple of hours at Angkor before deciding to set off up the road to locate the next temple. My bike was right where I left it, and so with a light heart, I hopped on. I definitely enjoy the freedom of having a bike! I headed off to Bayon and Baphuon. The directions were well marked, and so I was off at a good clip to the temples. As enjoyable as walking was, bike riding was many times better. As I got closer to the temple, I noticed the opportunity for a elephant rides, traditional way of entering Bayon and Baphuon. Making a mental note for later, I rode into the temple complex.

Compared to Angkor Wat, Baphuon looks like a ruin. I jokingly said to myself that it looked under construction. I wasn’t planning on stopping that morning, so I just rode around the temple. There were some beautiful, enormous Buddha statues in the area that I admired from my bicycle. I looped back and through, heading back towards Angkor Wat and town.

It was during this return trip that I discovered the one downside of biking-the incredible pollution from cars and motorbikes. I have never had a problem with breathing before, but I could feel my lungs starting to get a little constricted from breathing the carbon monoxide fumes, and the smoke from burning leaves and cooking fires. A nascent headache started as well, perhaps as much from sunburn and dehydration as the pollution. Nevertheless, I had an easy and enjoyable ride back to town, and returned to Hanumanalaya for breakfast.

Having brave as much sun as I wanted to get that day, I decided to relax at the hotel and get some writing done. One of the other things I realized the previous day was that I needed to slow down. I was so concerned about running out of things to do and see that I forgot that I had the option of just doing nothing. This, in a way, was strangely liberating. Freed from a sense that I was wasting time or money by not doing everything that I could possibly do, I allowed myself to enjoy the solitude of my hotel room, and write about the ethical principles in raja yoga.

After a while, I decided to continue this experience poolside. After a few minutes, another guest that I had noticed over the last two days came over and sat down next to me. Her name was Marian (I think), and we had a wonderful discussion. She is Belgian, and a former flight attendant. This was her first trip to Cambodia, but she had been to both Kerala and Iceland, two places that I intensely want to visit. We chatted about her experience and my experience in Cambodia, and ended up having a far ranging chat about everything from racial and ethnic issues in Belgium and the US, her background in the airline industry, and a few other things. She introduced me to a very nice little drink-soda water and lime juice. Very tasty, and very refreshing. Our discussion ended when her food arrived, and she was off to learn how to dance like an Apsara.

I stayed poolside a little longer, until my battery ran down, and then headed back to my room, where I proceeded to finish up my writing on the five yamas. After that, I decided to head into downtown Siem Reap. I grabbed my bike and off I went. I had only a vague idea of how to get where I wanted to go, but I had Lonely Planet, so I was unafraid. I made one wrong turn, but figured out my mistake, and turned around, and headed off in the appropriate direction. Without much trouble I found my way to where I wanted to be. I rode around a bit, just to check out the area, and then settled at the Kama Sutra for dinner. A delicious mango lassi, chai, and chicken thali arrived without much delay. I ate facing the street, watching the tourists walk by. I must admit, I felt a sense of being an old salt as I watched them wander. These poor people, dependent on tuk tuks and motorbikes, wandering around trying to figure out what to do. I had to laugh at myself. I also had a chance to talk with an Indian gentlemen who appeared to be overseeing the restaurant (he was in fact the accountant). Turns out he was originally from Kerala. We chatted briefly about the beauty of Southern India, and then he melted back into the restaurant.

After dinner, I checked out the Blue Pumpkin, a shop filled with excellent sweets, pastries, and shakes. I didn’t buy anything-I was stuffed from dinner. So I hopped on my bicycle and headed back into town. Again, I had no idea where I was going, but I tried follow my memory of where my moto driver went yesterday. I made it back to Hanumanalaya without incident. And here I am now writing this entry.

Tomorrow will bring another morning with Vishnu and Buddha at Angkor Wat, and then on to Baphuon before the sunrise to investigate it. Then I think I will camp out in Siem Reap for the day, and enjoy the tourist watching, and writing about the niyamas. Perhaps too I will write the short section on preparing to begin a yoga practice. For now, however, I think I shall read a book, or listen to a podcast of Speaking of Faith. I started one this morning on the Buddha as radical social thinker. I might just finish that one tonight or hold off until tomorrow.

I arrived in Siem Reap at 9:40 PM, after an exhausting, but fascinating, stay in the Incheon Airport in Seoul, Korea.  Lesson learned from that experience: always carry a change of clothes with you, particularly when traveling internationally.  It turns out that there are showers and refreshening areas in the International Terminal, which would have been great for that 11 hour stay.  I don’t think there’s anyway around it, since leaving the International terminal would probably require me to get my luggage, and I don’t see myself navigating Seoul with a roller bag.  So, I idled away the time with reading, writing, and Caribou coffee.

When I arrived in Siem Reap, I worked with probably the slowest Customs agent I have ever had the opportunity to interact with.  Interact is a stretch, since no words were exchanged.  He just proceeded to take an action, then stop and scrutinize the documents I had given him, and then proceed onto the next agent.  One glacial moment after another led to me finally getting my luggage, and proceeding out of the airport.  I was immediately assaulted with several gentlemen offering me rides to-anywhere, I suppose.  However, Hanumanalaya, where I was staying, provided transport to the hotel, so I found the man holding my name and jumped in his car.  Exhausted, but now awake again thanks to my attempt to hold attention for two people at Customs, we arrived at Hanumanalaya.

First, I will say that Hanumanalaya is beautiful.  However, I will also say that my image of travel abroad got a slight shift.  Although I probably wouldn’t admit it before this trip, I imagined travel abroad to be this luxurious, mysterious experience.  It would be travel abroad if Baz directed it a la Moulin Rouge.  And while I suppose that if I were paying $200 a night I could have a completely shielded experience, I am not, and therefore, I am not.  That having been said, Cambodia is definitely NOT exotically sexy.  It is poor, dirty (by which I mean, both having lots of dirt and lots of trash everywhere), and confusing.  Cars, mopeds, and bikes share the road with no definitive sense of lanes.  People are constantly trying to push rides, postcards, or begging for something.  Anna and the King have fled the coop.

What I really mean is that I always have buyer’s remorse.  When I arrived at Hanumanalaya, I immediately asked myself, why I am spending all this money to stay here?  Lonely Planet guides point out that you can stay in Cambodia for as little as $3 US a night, and here I am paying 65.  Of course, I do have a pool, and breakfast is included (practically speaking, a $3 value), and the price includes all taxes, etc. (whatever those are).  My room is very nice, but it’s not King of Siam beautiful (where’s the gold fixtures?), and after my incredibly gracious front desk attendant left, I noticed a cockroach on the floor, turned on its back and making feeble attempts to flip over. (I subsequently named him Harvey, and as of this writing, Harvey is no longer in the room, removed, I assume, by the maid.  I miss him.)  The bathroom door was low enough that I smashed the top of my skull against it when I first walked in it.  The toilet is a shade of pink that has been outlawed by gay interior decorators due to the demise of the 1950s aesthetic in the United States (along with avocado and other shades of appliances).

So this is where I found myself.  I unpacked and got into bed. The mattress was so firm that it must have been filled with the Catholic church’s opinions on abortion, gay rights, and yoga.  Thanks to the ingenuity of my loving Patrick, I had a power converter, so I plugged in the laptop and got it charging, and turned on some soothing music to lull my nervous system into quietude.  Harvey continued is epic struggle against evolutions cruel turn regarding limb placement and a hard exoskeleton that made spinal rotation impossible.  Lights out, and I fell asleep, missing a 1:00 AM missive from Patrick.

I awoke at 4:30 AM, an incomprehensibly early time.  (It later occurred to me that, even thousands of miles away, my nervous system was attuned to the Wednesday morning class that I would be missing had I not woken up at 4:30.)  I decided to get up and get going, although I have no idea why.  I walked out of my room at 5:15 or so, and began to walk towards the Angkor Wat temples.  I had not planned to actually see them today-I was planning on spending the day relaxing poolside, and getting a massage.  As I walked, I received the distinct impression that it was a mode of transportation which the Khmer people viewed with the same horror and disbelief as they once did Pol Pot.  Personally, I prefer walking, since you see more of a place and feel and hear its rhythms.  This is complicated by the fact that, since no one walks, the din of motos and cards effectively disrupts any natural sounds.

After several stares and an occasional smile, a person finally stopped and asked me if I wanted a ride.  Mistaking this as a gesture of kindness, I got on his motorbike, and we were off at a substantially faster clip to Angkor Wat.  At the end of the ride, I thanked him and walked over to the temple.  I was immediately overcome with emotion, beginning to tear up as I stood on the long bridge that leads to the complex.  It was, quite simply, incredible to see those spires and towers that I had seen in pictures in real life.  As I walked over the bridge, I was amazed at the mass of people leaving the complex.  (Sunrise at the temples, along with sunset, is prime tourist activity.)  At the end of the walkway, you can choose to go right or left.  I chose right, and walked along the river to an entrance to the complex.

As I got to the stairs, I looked up and to my left and there was a statue of Vishnu, dressed in a gold sari.  I immediately started to weep openly.  I cannot explain why-it just completely cracked me open.  When I took the stairs up, some Buddhist sisters had set up a small offering box and incense.  A small rug was in front of the altar.  I feel to my knees, and pressed my hands into anjali mudra, and cried, and cried, and cried.  A small, brown skinned man dressed in a suit watched me, and the Buddhist nun sat quietly in the corner.  Every time I looked up from my prostration to Vishnu, I cried a little bit harder, mucous pooling in my nose.  I kept crying until I finally felt self-conscious enough to “pull myself together.”  I lit some incense, and offered a chant to Vishnu, and then touched his feet and took some of that sacred dust to my forehead.

As I walked out and looked onto the main complex area of Angkor, I started to cry again.  The thought came to mind: “I am home.”  I think that this thought may have been a little forced, but I think the sentiment was true.  It was amazing to be in that space.  I took some time to walk around the temple complex, taking in the scale of the building.  As I walked some imagination was required, as the ravages of time, and vandals, had destroyed some of the wall carvings and statues.  Long passage ways led into main chambers or large courtyards, which held even more statues and carvings.  One incredibly tall tower was inaccessible, which was a shame because it looked amazing.

I decided to leave Angkor and head back to town for breakfast and perhaps some rest.  As I walked back, I noticed all of the families setting up their stands and stalls to sell food and drinks.  I had not brought much money, so I did not stop to buy food. (Another note: trust Lonely Planet when it says to bring all your money in small bills-they are not lying.)  Once I arrived back in town, I exchanged my $20 for some smaller bills, and then headed into Siem Reap for part two of my reconnaissance mission.  I started by walking, but ultimately relented, since I now had the cash and I felt that I could contribute to the local economy.  So, off we went to the market.

Having not remembered a map, I began to wander aimlessly.  A map would not have helped much anyway, considering the streets are unmarked and seemingly unnamed.  But I finally found my way into the heart of Siem Reap, an area consisting of perhaps 3 or 4 city blocks.  Hallelujah!  That having been said, there was not much there unless I wanted to shop for something, and I wasn’t in the mood for that.  Walking through the market itself is a little bit of a challenge, since people are constantly grabbing you in an attempt to get you to buy their products-and each stall sells the same basic items.  After a couple amusing encounters which left my cash still in my pockets, I decided to stop for lunch at a local restaurant.  Khmer food has so far been quite a bit like Thai or Vietnamese, with no distinctive quality yet to be discovered.  I am committing to myself to be open minded and take some time to discover the food here, as well as the culture.

Finally, I headed back to the hotel, deciding to call it an early day-very early, as it was around 1:00 in the afternoon.  The combined lack of sleep from the flights, the boredom of airports, and the emotional excitement of Angkor Wat and Siem Reap, lured me to my comfortable and comforting bed (now made and covered with a very pretty silk runner), and I feel asleep listening to an audio course on mantra, listening to the chants for Narayana/Vishnu.