I left Kuala Lumpur having spent 5 days there and I felt I had at least got under its skin a little bit. As I made my final walk to Kuala Lumpur Sentral I lamented my leaving and hoped to return one day, although at least not to the cockroach-infested hostel I had just left.
An hour’s walk to the station to catch my airport-bound bus had given me all sorts of aches and pains, and with my lack of sleep the night before I felt I would need to sleep the hour or so on the plane. This was wishful thinking due to a jolly West Country couple next to me and before we knew it we had touched down in Siem Reap, the home of Angkor Wat.
It had been an ambition of mine to visit here since I had read The Fingerprints of the Gods by Graham Hancock at 16 years of age, in which he proclaims the temples were designed by an ancient master civilisation, whose remains were in ruins all over the globe.
I’d become increasingly sceptical about his claims that ancient monuments, such as Giza, Easter Island, Angkor and others, were laid down to celestial master plans in recent years, but it still remains one of my favourite crypto-history books.
With over ten years of excitement inside me I jumped on a motorbike and reached the hostel, only to realise my whole body had given up on me! I managed to force a Khmer curry down me and dragged myself up to my room. I put my head on the pillow and came round four hours later.
Upon waking I was almost hallucinating with pain! I kept telling myself that no matter how ill I felt, I had to make an effort to get to the temples. My head wasn’t so much spinning as pulsating and my body was shivering.
Some people may think it was stupid to leave the hostel in that condition: they’d be right. Some may think it was stupid to then make the 20km round trip by bicycle, in tropical mid-day heat: they also’d be right.
Slowly I pushed onwards to the town of Siem Reap, around 4km from the hostel, and from there I turned north towards the temples. By the time I had reached Angkor I think the adrenalin had fought off the worst of my fever, and I parked up my bike to be harassed by hawking children. Amazingly a child tried to sell me a coke for $3, but I bargained it down to $1, still feeling robbed.
Angkor was amazing in the late-afternoon heat. The sandstone-coloured bricks warmed by the sun seemed to be timeless. Without a guide I knew nothing really of the history, but for now the spectacle was enough. I wandered inside and snapped away with the camera.
Angkor is just one of the many temples at the whole site, which spreads over hundreds of square kilometres. I reasoned I could visit another few tomorrow after resting for this evening.
I felt transfixed by the place and wandered from room to room and before I knew it I must have been there a couple of hours. All of a sudden my upper body became weak and my legs shaky. I needed to find the exit and make my way home as soon as possible.
I went straight for the exit and after paying an additional bribe to a young girl, who insisted on greeting me with ‘lovely jubbly’, I got on my bike. I cycled straight out and never looked back.
Well, I did look back, frequently, but that was only after 45 minutes of cycling and having no idea where I was! I asked a young boy and he said straight on, so on I dragged myself and the bike. All the time the last vestiges of energy seemed to be draining from my body.
Upon reaching a crossroads I orientated myself towards the temples and reasoned it was a right turn towards the town, relieved it would only be a matter of getting there now. However, 10 minutes later the scene was even less familiar. At the next crossroads I enquired a local. The old woman couldn’t hide her mirth as she pointed me back the other way – the way I had come. 15km back the way I had come.
Distraught, I scraped my bike around and cycled back, fighting back the tears of pain and self-loathing at having got myself lost again. I began a long, hot and draining cycle down a seemingly endless, characterless road.
After 10kms I saw a sign for Angkor and thinking this would be my best bet took it. I was pleased as immediately I recognised the shops and hotels which became more and more familiar. There was just a lingering doubt as to whether they were on the right side of the road for someone going back towards town.
This was settled around 20 minutes later when I found myself at the ticket office. The same ticket office at which I had entered Angkor Wat. The ticket office I had hoped was around 10km behind me by now. I cursed, felt even sorrier for myself, and began cycling again. At least I knew the way back now.
My head, shoulders, thighs and calves all strained with pain and the bike had almost given up itself when I stumbled back to the hostel. Somehow I got myself up the stairs and into the shower and hoped to put the 50km cycle behind me.
Coming out of the shower I began shivering uncontrollably and my head was increasingly somewhere else. I lay down in bed and wondered if I would ever see Angkor again. Welcome to Cambodia.
