Dear All,

From Phnom Penh to Siem Reap and off the boil - although being mobbed by tuk tuk drivers pulling at my clothing as I dismounted the bus, there a certain amount of respite from the 'Phnom Penh Experience' due to the main attraction of Angkor 'Tomb Raider' Wat drawing older (and more solvent!) visitors. The twenty dollar a day entrance to the Angkor temples is most indicative of this - whilst not a great deal of money to explore such a phenomenal thousand year old time capsule, it is vast comparative to costs out here. To get a feel - most Khmer families have to make do on around $20 a month. I know it's not realistic to make comparisons like this, but that could be what? An entrance fee of two thousand pounds sterling?? In a way, then, the contrast is all the more stark. Cambodian and tourist areas of time are very different...

Ok, ok... to the point. Having paid your vast entrance fee, what did you see?? What epiphany was realised between the tree roots of Ta Prohm, in the faces of Bayon, at the magnificant Angkor Wat, as the sun rises over the water from behind those beautiful towers at dawn?

Sadly no epiphany came, the light was not blinding, and Damascus wasn't signposted. They are, after all, buildings... albeit incredable structures with a very special significance. This isn't the West so you can literally clamber all over the temples (of which there are hundreds)... whilst this is not advisable (signposts - Çlimbing At Your Own Risk) or responsible, there are times when it is sorely tempting in order to navigate tricky routes through hoardes of Japanese tourists and sixty foot lenses. If we thought Stratford was bad, this is a whole different league of tour buses and kodak moment hunting extrordanaire. Luckily, it doesn't detract from the almost sepia toned granduer and beauty, although this may be due to my sunglasses. Turning a corner can land you in a moment of solitude in the midst of dappled light through tropical trees and remind you that this is wild and mystical.

So - I went to the temples, then!! Having templed quite intensely for the first day, we took some time out to explore the charming Siem Reap - four girls took in the market, all prints, patterns and handbags, and took a late lunch at Soup Dragon, on Morrocan-Greek fusion cuisine. Surreal... I suppose it's all a fallacy, really, but it was a lovely way to while away a few hours and experience another side to Cambodia. A couple of the girls were talking about wanting to visit an orphanage they had heard about, and bizarrely, a tuk tuk driver touting for business from us was wearing a 'Kampuchea House' tee. Long story short - he was an orphan himself, and had grown up there. He now teaches English there two days a week, and drives the tuk tuk (belonging to the orphanage) for the rest of the time. No money, they don't need money - they needs pens, pencils, rice.

We wanted to visit? He couldn't stop smiling. How much? What? You think you're going to pay me for taking you there? Oh no... moving at a million miles an hour, he whisked us to a local market, sights, sounds smells, going off in every direction, the Khmers looking at us 'giants' (four girls... three over 5'10) following the chap (whom, needless to say, we dwarfed...) with such incredulity I was convinced for a fair while that I had sprouted a tail. We bought books and pens, piled into the tuk tuk again and headed out of town.

A lot of backpackers spend some time at orphanages in Cambodia. It was not something that had ever really occurred to me, and if it had not been for the manner in which circumstances had conspired yesterday afternoon, I don't think I would have ever visited one. How I would have missed out. That split second, that moment, that the tuk tuk pulled in the door and we were surrounded by a couple of dozen smiling faces, smiles wider than the shouts were loud, "HELLO!! HELLO!!". The general level of English was good; the teaching at the orphanage will stand them in good stead, as tourism seems the best hope for Cambodian development. The children were so, so happy. They have lost there parents, they have barely enough to get by, they sleep all together in one room, and I don't think I have ever experienced such non judgmental, all encompassing, welcoming kindness and genuine happiness anywhere in the world so far. If I can make another person feel a fraction of the way those children made me feel as we sang, danced the hokey cokey, ran around screaming and laughing playing English and Khmer games, then there will be a while lot of good kamma coming my way... Apologies for the gushing, somewhat floral nature of the outpouring, but it was a real highlight.

Somewhere in the last few days (those chronological accounts have more than gone out the window), I grew finally impatient with the sweaty mess of jaw length blonde straggles that hung, limp and lifeless as the Angkors that built all those temples. Previous attempts at haircuts in Laos had been aborted due to my lack of language skills, but I was determined. I threw my energy into sign language, chopping away at the strands with razor sharp finger-scissors in a mime effort Diane would be proud of. If years of speech and drama have ever come to full use, this was my moment, surrounded by an audience of Cambodian women having their long black hair conditioned and straightened. Having picked early evening in which to provide entertainment for the locals, there were women everywhere - pedicures, having make up applied and hair styled. Giggling, shaking their heads at my protestations that I wanted it all off, very very short, a girl set to work. No fancy comb edged scissors, no adjustable chair, no wash and blow dry. Snip snip snip. I had to coerce the girls with wide smiles for the duration of the cut that this was what I wanted - "Why you no like long hair?? Why you no want hair??". My impression of a razor (with superb sound effects) was greeted with absolute aghast horror. They point blank refused.

However, it is a brilliant hair cut. It's very short, it sits beautifully, it takes zero effort. I am so impressed that, at 25p, I got a better hair cut than ones I have paid a hundred times the price for. I even provided some entertainment. Bonus.

Tonight, I shall enjoy my last night in Cambodia over some steaming soup and a bit of a jig in the originally named Angkor What? and Temple bars. Tomorrow... back to Malaysia. Kuala Lumper, and maybe Tioman, here I come...

Love to All. Thank you for all the feedback on the last blog. It actually made it a lot easier.

Pxx