The fast boat to Siem Reap.
Long before our taxi boat reached the dock, scores of touts were shouting at us from the riverbank. Some held name signs, some held hotel signs, but most of them were just shouting offers. I’d arranged a hotel and ride with my Phnom Penh hotel so I didn’t have to bother. I spotted my man, holding my name on a cardboard sign and gave him a thumbs up. As I was the last one off the boat, I was also the touts’ last chance at making a commission; their efforts redoubled.
“All right,” I shouted from the dock, “listen up! I have a hotel! I have a ride! I don’t need a hotel! I don’t need a ride!” This actually stopped them in their verbal tracks! No one had ever done this before, I suppose. Seconds later, however, the guy walking ahead of me turned and asked me if I had a hotel. “What did I just say?” I asked him, incredulously. He gave me a sheepish look and moved on.
My ride, as it turned out, was not the private car I had been promised, but a seat in a well-packed min-van. The barangs inside were in poor humor as they’d been waiting quite some time for me to arrive so they could get going. I’d wanted my own ride because I’d planned to do some sight seeing on the trip into town. I gave the operator my backpack and told him to deliver it to the hotel; I’d arrive shortly.
This land-based part of the floating village always fascinated me. It’s amazing what people can do with so little. I won’t go into details, but tell you that it’s as makeshift a village as you can get, but still feel like a real community. Even if you don’t like the boat ride, seeing this place is worth the effort.
The land portion of the floating village.
I had a motoboy to drive me to my hotel. It was a modest place right on the main road. I checked in, showered and ventured out to rent a motorbike. To make a long story short, you can no longer rent motorbikes in Siem Reap (believe me, I spent a few hours scheming ways to get around this fact). It seems the taxi mafia here is so strong they convinced the authorities that barangs should not be allowed to rent. I am not making this up. The taxi boys get a commission on everything, so there’s big money at stake for them. The bastards.
I ended up hiring one of the hotel boys to take me around for about 7USD/day. At 5PM we got to the temple complex admissions gate, bought my ticket and away we went.
If you’ve never seen Angkor, it’s worth the trip. The place is amazing, but there are plenty of travel guides who’ll tell you that, so I won’t bother. You’re interested in the sanuking bit, so here ya go.
On the way back from the temples, I told my motoboy that I wanted to see the lady houses. “You want lady?” he asked eagerly. I told him I just wanted to look. I knew the bastard saw dollar signs when heard my request. He showed me a few places, encouraging me to partake, but I declined. I was not about to pay double for my fun.
Back at the hotel, I showered and changed, then took a walk to the nearest lady house. There were quite a few girls available. They sat in plastic chairs, watching TV. Only a few of them paid more than a few moments attention to me. I began my negotiation with the pappasan. He was determined to get ten bucks; I was equally determined to pay only five. “I’ve been here before,” I told him. “I have no driver, no commission. Five bucks.” The guy held his ground.
A little while later, a crusty old Scandinavian arrived. He’d never been to Seim Reap, so after introductions, I gave him the low-down on the local scene. I also explained how the pappasan was trying to do a bit of gouging and that perhaps we should both go somewhere else.
The old boy was one curious guy. He looked as poor as a church mouse, his clothes hung from his skinny frame and his thin beard did nothing to detract from his bony, angular face and even more angular teeth. He told me that he had a friend running some sort of factory in Laos who had set aside a couple of village girls for him. They were in their late teens and he was assured they were virgins. His plan, he told me, was to marry one of them. I tried to imagine what that marriage would be like, but couldn’t
I gave pappasan one more chance at making some money, then moved on to the next house. I tried a couple more places down the road before finding what I was looking for. The girl, Long, was a keeper. I offered the mammasan a twenty for the night. She refused. I shrugged and walked out. Mammasan was at my side in seconds, happily accepting my offer.
Long was a pleasant, rather enthusiastic, bed companion. We went to sleep rather early because I had to get up early the next morning for sunrise photos. That ruled out a morning shag, but that was quite alright by me. I was tempted to let her sleep in and let herself out, but was not sure if the hotel would be too keen on that idea. Furthermore, not knowing the girl all that well, there was some risk involved (even if I didn’t leave much of value behind in the room).
After another day of temple tromping, I got cleaned up and headed down the road to Kuelen Restaurant. I like this place for one reason only – they have an excellent dance show. I am convinced they choose the girls based on their looks as well as their grace because these girls are lovely. I hung around after the show in hopes of meeting some of them. Unfortunately, I learned later, they take off out a back door. I did manage, however to learn the name of their trainer so I knew whom to ask for on my next visit.
Kuelen Apsaras.
Two nights later, I met the dance trainer; who did not speak English. She called over her daughter, an ex dancer of about 24 years, to tell me about the Apsara training. She told me the girls were highly sought after as wives. “Really?” I asked. Her description of their training was somewhat reminiscent of that of a Geisha. She took me up on the side stage and pulled one of the girls out to meet me. In costume, this girl was a icon on beauty. In her street close, she was just plain stunning. Naturally, she could not speak English.
“Do you want to marry her?” my new friend asked. To say I was flabbergasted would be a major understatement. She told me how a German guy had married one of the dancers the year before. The girl now lives in Germany with him and has a wonderful life, or so she said. I told her I would love to marry an Apsara, but not just yet. Actually, I was hinting around the issue of hiring one of the girls for the evening. I didn’t want to be obvious about this, because, well, let’s face it, if these girls were not for hire, the seed of matrimony had certainly been planted in my mind and I didn’t want to establish a bad reputation. I took my friend’s phone number with the intention to see all the girls on Sunday morning when they rehearsed.
I headed back to the brothel area to visit the one or two places I missed. The first place I stopped had but a few girls, but one of them, Toot, was plenty enthusiastic and quite happy to accept my five-dollar short-time offer. She was, unfortunately, much less enthusiastic in her chamber. I wasted about a half hour with her while I thought of the dancers. She was surprised when I didn’t come. That, quite frankly, surprised me as she did little to elicit an orgasm.
My last stop was to a brothel on the main road. I was met by the Mammasan and a young lady doing her best to act as an interpreter. They introduced me to the few girls present. None of them did anything for me … except for the interpreter, Tai. She was quite surprised when I asked about her availability but quickly agreed. Apparently, she had only recently arrived from Vietnam a few weeks earlier and was unused to attention. I can’t imagine why because she’s a cutie with a nice smile and a pleasant manner.
We walked back to the hotel and moment I opened the door she began the examination of my room. The first comment out of her was how messy my room was. It certainly was! I’d been using the extra bed as a staging area for all my stuff, and I certainly had too much stuff. Tai then began picking up everything and, no not putting them away, but examining them carefully. She’d pick it up, look at me and say “What?” and I’d try to tell her what it was. If she found something she liked, she would say “Me?” gesturing that she wanted to keep it. She gathered a few odds and ends this way. When she picked up one of my … um, trophies, another girl’s bikini briefs, she looked at me and said “You!” That was a bit more difficult to explain. Oddly enough, she didn’t want to keep that one, heh, heh.
Tai ended up being my second best bed partner in Cambodia (next to Toh). Aside from being very accommodating, she had just the right mix of passion and good humor. She didn’t work too hard, but then again, she didn’t have to as I was having all the fun being on top. She was no Apsara, but she certainly satisfied my burning desires.
Photos: Curious Tai 32 33 34
The next morning, I visited the Koulen Restaurant to see the girls rehearse and get some photos. I arrived too early. I checked my e-mail and went back an hour later. I then learned that the girls had a short rehearsal and left. I missed them! I called my trainer friend. She couldn’t figure out why I didn’t show up. When I explained that I had, she was quite apologetic. Another opportunity lost. Oh well.
My three-day pass was now expired and it was time to move on. I had planned to take the boat back to Phnom Penh, but since I was taking the boat from PP to Laos, I figured a short flight wouldn’t cost too much (it didn’t). When I entered the travel agent’s office to check on the price of a flight, the first thing she did is ask me if I came alone. She explained that if I’d come by taxi (or motor boy), I’d end up paying at least ten bucks more for my ticket! Those bastards! Is it any wonder I hate Cambodian taxis. Well, as long as you know the rules, you can break ‘em, eh?
My next stop was the newly opened Cambodian Culture Village on the way to the airport. I learned that a lot of their dancers had been hired away from Koulen. This was a good thing as these girls were all cute and I just happened to have photos of a few of them on my pocket PC.
I wasn’t at all interested in visiting a government built tourist trap, but you know what? It’s really quite good. While the grounds themselves aren’t half as interesting as the real Cambodian villages, the performances are all excellent. Furthermore, most of the people in attendance are locals, not western tourists.
I managed to run into a few of the old Koulen dancers. They were delighted to see their photo and quite happy to pose for as many more as I wanted. I had a great time trying to communicate with the girls. In hindsight, I should have invited the lot of them out for dinner and drinks. Next time, Wombat, next time.
Apsaras from the Culture Village.
That night, I decided to get the hotel to send me a massage girl. I forget the rate, but it was remarkably cheap. The little Khmer woman who took care of me was about twenty years old, quite attractive and spoke no English. There was also no hanky-panky on the menu either. I got naked for the massage and she never so much as batted an eye, let alone offer additional services. When she finished, I tried to pantomime the question as to whether or not she would stay the night. I was faced with a blank stare. I should have gone back out and picked up Tai, but I was getting up early and after that massage I was ready for sleep.
The next morning, I arose before the sun. I spent about a half hour at the market before making my way to the airport and bidding goodbye to Siem Reap one more time. Next stop Phnom Penh.