Yawn, finally I finished packing my backpack at 2am, got up 2 hours later for the l'aeroporto and touched down without a hitch in Siem Reap, Cambodia at 7+ local time. My mind was still in its own time warp, having survived yet another budget flight *kiss ground* and was nudged awaken by the refreshing cool 17 deg C air outside. Ah, benvenuto! On the brisk taxi ride, we were tickled by the rows of Korean restaurants and signs upon nearing town. Breakfast at the cosy cottage-resort Auberge Mont Royal was a shot in the arm; service was as warm as the freshly baked loaves, the pineapple-ginger jam sticky and addictive, and did I mention the weather was fabuloso?
No news from Giovanni yet. Darn, he must have overslept. Impatient, we caught one of the waiting tuk tuks to nearby FCC to wake him up instead! The hotel was molto chic -a tad extravagant at US$130 a night compared to our modest US$30 - but I could see where the money went. As we stepped out, I recognised Ou Hok who came to greet us. My sis had highly recommended him as our tuk tuk driver as he had proved reliable and personable on her last trip. Plus he reminded us of our dad with his tanned wrinkled smile and quiet resilience - perhaps that was reassuring. 
He drove us swiftly in his trusty tuk tuk to Tonle Sap 20 mins away for our first glimpse of the famous floating village at Asia's largest freshwater lake. How big i heard you ask? At a whopping 160km long X 36km wide, it can swell 10 times easily during the wet season. Slapped in the craddle of Cambodia - which incidentally is surrounded by Thailand, Laos and Vietnam for the geographically ignorant, it is the bedrock of the country's livelihood. We opted for the hardly 2hr excursion (a tad steep at US$15 each) hopping onto one of the many parked long boats at Phnom Krom's pier. Leading to it, we peered into the rows of dusty makeshift huts and surveyed the shoeless wide-eyed kids running around in the sunbaked dirt. The living standards were atrocious to say the least - most of the homes seemed to lack the basic clean water and electricity, much less our modern comforts and luxuries.
Our scrawny 20 year-old guide Pol - who looked 15 - was very forthcoming and pointed out the floating schools, basketball court where he played, church, hospital and the various communities of Cambodians, Muslims and Vietnamese. As our long boat motored lazily thro' the thick swamps to the lake, Pol hid under his severely thick winter coat from the blazing sun till we reached a vast body of water which would be presumbly the lake. Except in our heads and experience, we were expecting to see the perimeters/ shores on the opposite side for it to qualify technically as a lake. In this case, all we could see were miles and miles of shimmering water, a widestretched horizon and screaming white seagulls against the blue sky. 
As we drank in the dark grey waters, 3 wooden paddleboats raced forth, engined by cheerful kid vendors peddling $1 drinks. Here, who rows fastest wins and got our dollars in exchange for chilled cans of Angkor beer. It was heartbreaking to see these youngsters earn a living this way but it was a harsh reality. Later, we spotted a handsome young boy happily floating in his lightweight wooden bucket. What disturbed us was his left arm that was severed above the elbow. He smiled at us and used his other working arm to manouvere the waves. And in Spore, kids want the latest Playstation, computers and handphones - MOE should organise educational tours to Tonle Sap, man.
We made a pitstop at a touristy crocodile/fish farm which was also a floating restaurant-sum-souvenir shop before being whizzed back to town for a quick lunch. I had to try the Amok; a runny mushy mild-tasting fish curry concoction - that is Cambodian's national dish - and couldn't say I was wild about it. Just to be sure, I had it twice at 2 restaurants, and the texture and taste was at least consistently mushy. The other dishes, touted as Khmer cuisine, were not as unique and borrowed heavy influences from its neighbours such as the lime fish soup and grilled eggplant with minced pork - nonetheless they were fresh-tasting, comforting home-cooked fare. 
We persuaded Ou Hok to join us at lunch (US$26) and asked him about his life and Cambodia. Before visitng a country for the first time, I felt compelled to read up on its history and culture for at least an admittedly superficial understanding. Apart from the stupendous Angkor Wat temples, the deepest impressions I got from my guidebooks are the atrocities caused by Pol Pot's Khmer Rouge regime in the late 70s that left some 2 million Cambodians dead in its killing fields. The failed political ideals, akin to China's Cultural Revolution, stripped the country bare of its cultural heritage and soul - made worse by American intervention whose politicians thought carpet-bombing the country was probably a good solution to chasing out the communists. Yet the people seemed to find their way around it all with a gentle pride, bashful smile and that quiet sparkle in their eyes. Ou Hok had the most complex laugh which for the first time I couldn't imitate. It seemed to resonate from the back of his throat, through his nose and build up into a gawkish nasal sound - like a seagull's call (ok sono pazza!). Now in his 50s, he survived the Khmer Rouge regime as a teen and has gone thro' all sorts of hardship as a goldsmith, gold/gem miner, shopkeeper, truck driver, coconut-seller, farmer and now an entrepreneur with a tuk tuk proudly emblazoned with his name "Mr Ou Hok". His wife is equally inspiring, learning Japanese at her age and they are blessed with 4 daughters who are studying in Phnom Penh.
He taught us our first tongue-twisting Khmer words:
- 'Sous su'dite' = hello/ ciao
- 'Ar koon' = thanks/ grazie
- 'Sor pee or'= cheers to good health/ salute
- 'Chi ngan' = delicious/ buono
... all compulsory words for me in any foreign language. Hmm, I think I will stick to my italiano for now!
Dopo pranzo, we got our 3-day pass at US$40 at the checkpoint and headed for our first temple Ta Prohm, one of the die-die must-see attractions after Angkor Wat and Angkor Thom. I had been reading up on the temples and the mixed feelings of excitement and angst had built up to this day. Hmm, where do I even begin to explain the origins of these UNESCO marvels? (Go read up!) I could imagine how the first explorers hacked their way in the impossibly dense tropical jungle, fighting off disease and dangers, to pave the journey to the glorious lost Angkorian kingdom. I also felt sorry and despair for their terrible neglect and plunder too, and could only fanthom their original grandeur centuries ago.
To simplify things, the temples are traced to different religious periods and reigns, in dominant styles like Angkor Wat and Bayon. Ta Prohm was probably best immortalised by Hollywood where Lara Croft aka Angelina Jolie raided the toppled tombs and rumbled ruins here. Extremely photogenic, it was overrun by the jungle and strangled by the powerful grips and roots of the gigantic fig and silk-cotton trees - reminders of how destructive and unforgiving Mother Nature can be. Perhaps she is just reclaiming back what's rightfully hers. 
I slipped through low corridor entrances and climbed onto the fallen boulders to get closer to the apsaras; celestrial female beings carved intricately on every column. They were quietly graceful, sensual, mystifying yet none of them was alike. I couldn't believe how intact some of them were - it was as if they were trapped in time... in stone for life. I was memerised and obessed by them that I had to document every apsara in sight; each with a different pose and smile. 
A couple of times, we were approached by gabby local kids who came up and asked 'You want see the famous movie?' We gently turned their offers down and handed out sweets that we bought for them instead, much to their delight. I observed the little buggers who slided in and out of sight easily within their playground of rumbles, probably knowing the temple like the back of their hands. I wondered where are their parents? My mamma would have whalloped my arse!
At 5plus as the temperature started to drop and fatigue set in, Ou Hok zipped us to the nearby Prasat Pre Rup temple, one of the best spots to catch the sunset. We passed by Srah Srang - a tranquil and reflective huge basin which served as a royal bath then. Now locals gathered around it for a spot of meditation and cool relief, I guess. 
At Pre Rup which was already crowded, we climbed up the steep clayish stony steps carefully to the top of the domes in time to see the red glowing sun slowly dipped beyond the picturesque plains. There's something about sunrise and sunset that is magical. I could remember all my moments in Ibiza and Sicilia. Che bellissima...
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