Beau Monde

I arrived in Cambodia at seven in the morning with expectations that matched the ones I’d had in India. A little scooter took me and my bags to the bus stop, destination: Siem Reap, Cambodia. I did worry for a minute that the scooter would prance as soon as I’d sit down (my weight, including luggage must have equalled that of five Thai) but it wasn’t that bad. You’ll always find that many more people can be loaded into a minibus than you’d imagined. There were twelve of us on board as we drove to the border. I checked my ticket once more while we were caught up in the traffic jam coming from Bangkok. Oops. The ticket did say: ‘bus and pick up truck’. I had to swallow hard. Everyone knows that although the roads in Cambodia are called the highway, they don’t resemble one at all. However adventurous a pick up truck may sound, it’s no joy if you’re sharing a few square metres with tens of locals who are quite hostile to backpackers. We were all sitting down on bags of rice, surrounded by people who were throwing up and by mothers who were trying to breast-feed their little ones. The latter (due to the not-so-smooth road surface) kept resulting in milk spattering around. At a temperature of over thirty degrees Celsius it tends to stick, too… The journey wasn’t made any easier by the little children inside the vehicle, who found it incredibly funny to plant their elbows in your back. Also, halfway through the journey, the truck decided to give up and we had to board a smaller one - which already carried sacks of rice, passengers and a motorcycle. Miraculously, we managed to cramp in everything and everyone from our truck, but I did wonder afterwards whether that was something to be pleased about. After ten hours of travelling like this you’re less than a zombie (By the way, I’d like to thank the backpackers who were on their way back from Phnom Penh and shared their stories with me). Although I didn’t know all the ins and outs yet, it didn’t seem the ideal way to travel. Oh well. There was no way I could turn around and I just had to wait and see.
My mouth fell open when I spotted yet another minibus near the border, which was ready to take over. What a luxury! The first piece of good luck for me in Cambodia. And there were more to come. The roads really aren’t that bad, after all (Or am I just saying this because I’ve been to India?). The guesthouse was reasonably clean and it even had a big, good bed. What more can you wish for?

The next day saw me seriously wondering if I hadn’t landed in the wrong story, for Siem Reap turned out to be a French colonial city and not at all a swamp full of turf huts. There was a stream in he middle of the roads and there were proper avenues on both sides, with hotels and houses resembling villas. There was an authentic ’50s feel to it – it all being very clean, civilised and green. It did seem like a fairy-tale. There were plenty of restaurants and it was clear people weren’t taking care of the pence. And they were so photogenic! My presumptions about Cambodia clearly needed readjusting.

One doesn’t just go to Siem Reap for no good reason. It’s close to the temples of Ankor, and I’m not exaggerating when I say that these are one of the seven world wonders. I was going to check this one out thoroughly. With a three-day visitor’s pass, that shouldn’t pose much of a problem. For those of you who, just like me, first raised their eyebrows when they heard the name Angkor Wat, here’s a little introduction. While Europe was wallowing in the dark Middle Ages, a succession of kings was reigning here. And each and every one of them felt the need to have a temple built in their deity’s, or simply their own honour. Let’s just say that there wasn’t exactly a lack of space here. As a result, in an area that covers some thirty square meters, you can admire quite a few temples against the pretty landscape. Angkor Wat is the most famous temple of them all, and the neighbouring temples all fall under the header ‘temples of Ankor’. I must say that the builders have really done their best.

The day of my arrival was yet another day on which it was more important to get a good night’s sleep than do a lot, especially since the excursion was to start at five the next morning. Now the people in the group I’d be joining clearly weren’t called Bouter, for when I knocked on their doors at five all of them turned out to be fast asleep. (It was nice to discover they hadn’t left without me…) So, a couple of times I found myself counting to ten and reminding myself that if it couldn’t be done today, I still had tomorrow. But it was hard. I hate getting up this early, and I also hate to be late through no fault of my own. You learn so much from travelling…
Armed with your ticket and passport photograph, you then watch the sunrise and think, ‘It’s not a big deal’. Next, you realise that you do have to adjust to a new country. Annapurna Base Camp had been much more beautiful, of course, and there was no way I’d find its match down here. Still sleepy, I keep walking around for a bit. Then I return to the exit, where my ‘taxi driver’ (a man with a scooter who escorts me all day) is waiting for me. Only when I get to the next few temples I start to realise that I’ve just been to, in, at Angkor Wat – and I haven’t even looked properly! Oh well, I’ll have to do it all over again some day. Until one in the afternoon I explore some temples, only to feel exhausted afterwards. That’s quite enough for one day. I do watch the sunset, but unfortunately it’s cloudy.
On the third day, I want to go and see a couple of temples some twenty kilometres away. My poor little ‘taxi driver’ is having a hard time! On this day I spend more time on the scooter than inside temples, and fast it goes. The landscape here is simple, but beautiful: there are lots of green bits, rice fields and villages where the locals wave to anyone who passes by, for tourists don’t come here that often. When I close my eyes, I can picture myself in a Catherine Deneuve film. Dressed in a cotton summery dress with a tight bodice, puff sleeves and a rustling skirt, I’m sitting on a high horse, galloping through the fields. A big straw hat is tied to my chin with a voile scarf. It feels almost real. I spend the third day looking at the last few interesting temples with the dedication of a train spotter. I also take a closer look at Angkor Wat. I have to say it’s absolutely worth visiting.

During the siesta I find a copy of the Dutch glossy ‘Beau Monde’ on the bookshelf in the guesthouse. The cover has disappeared and I have no idea when it was published. Luckily, that doesn’t matter at all with these kinds of magazines. Within a minute I’m immersed in a fashion show starring Guusje and Esmee dressed in Versace and Dolce & Gabbana, squinting sexily into the camera. I shop around Arnhem with footballer Ronald Koeman’s wife and become increasingly offended as I read an article on why Dutch celebrities Tanja and Sandra are still single. Luckily, last comer is Yvonne Keeley. In the seventies she had a hit called ‘If I had words’ with Scott Fitzgerald (which, by the way, is a pop version of the classical ‘Sains-Saens’, which really is a lovely song). Their video clip was recorded inside a church and the song stayed at number one for some time. The article has the header: ‘Whenever Patricia [her sister] and I go shopping in London, we take the helicopter’. As I said, I’m totally immersed in the magazine and for some 30 minutes I’m back in The Netherlands. The fairy-tale bubble bursts as I turn the last page. For a few seconds I’ve had no idea where I was. I’m lying on a bed in a room where a fan silently sends some cool air in my direction. Oh yeah. Travelling. Cambodia, Siem Reap; I’m back again. The clock strikes four, which is an excellent time for a stroll. I pick up my camera. Beau Monde, indeed.

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