Siem Reap, almost as far north in Cambodia as you can go, gateway to Angkor Wat. For many travellers, this is as much of Cambodia as they will ever see. It shows, the sidewalks are quite walkable, The tuk-tuk drivers look well-fed, and the security guards are almost paying attention to what’s around them. However the tap water still smells, and I keep wondering what businesses have against herbicides.
I had been warned by the hostel owner in Battambang that Siem Reap was very quiet, that dorm beds could be had for a single US dollar a night. My room was basic, but at only $5 a night was still cheap and kept me away from interupted sleep in dorms.
After a snooze and a swim in the hostel’s pool, I made my way in the rain to Pub Street. The massage girls who had vexed me so greatly six years ago, seemed entirely absent, but the Tuk-tuk drivers helpfully offered me to set me up with ladies, uppers, downers, and finally, in desperation, transportation.
I noticed that the patrons walking and sitting on Pub Street were mostly older Westerners, with a light splash of Koreans and Japanese. No locals at all except for the staff, but it was a Wednesday night. I drank a few happy hour beers before I got bored and ordered a Grab to get back to my hostel.
The next time I braved Pub Street was a Friday night, and a little later in the evening. More tourists, and small handfuls of well-heeled Kymers, but not exactly pumping. I enjoyed a few draft beers, and then a delicious mango daiquiri at Arum’s suggestion, the effects of which I didn’t feel until I stood up and almost fell over. I decided this was a good time to try a fish massage. The idea is that you put your long-suffering tourist feet into the fish tank, and the carp (Garra rufa) eat the dead skin from your feet, leaving them as smooth as a baby’s bottom. It costs three USD, and you get either free water or a beer. Of course, I asked for the beer, the last thing I needed at this juncture was to sober up. I gingerly put my feet in the water, and the fish started to take an interest in my uncared-for feet. Some of them fought over prime real estate on my left foot, which was a little strange to see. It felt very odd, sometimes pleasant, often way too ticklish to be comfortable even in my altered state, and sometimes painful with one of the more vigorous and larger fish.
However I was exposed to other predators, a Western man unaccompanied is viewed by the local sex workers as problem they can solve. One of the local freelancers, started flirting with me, not scandalisly dressed but my spidey sense was tingling, and I tried my best to ignore her. I finished my beer, checked to see if the lady was not within eyesight, and made a run to the Seven Eleven at the end of Pub Street. As soon as I left Seven Eleven, I tried ordering a Grab but my phone went flat, so I made my unsteady walk back to my hostel. While crossing the traffic barrier the previous freelancer made a last effort to invite me to one of those charge by the hour hotels, but I managed to keep saying no thank you and didn’t break my half-drunk stride.
The next night I tried again, and I noticed the same freelancer, this time showing off a lot more skin and some very high heels. She didn’t notice me as she spoke to an older gent, but I wished her happy hunting as I continued. I ended the night at Barcode, a gay bar with a nightly cabaret show. I enjoyed the show a great deal and got a kiss on the cheek by one of the more impressive performers, who decided I was not allowed to hide in the corner like a Mormon in a strip club.
If you liked this post, please check out the rest of the posts from this trip here!
Adrian's Got The Moose 