June 16. Siem Reap to Bangkok
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The warm weather had returned by breakfast time although there was still a little dampness to be seen. Having a little time to spare, I tried to take a few photos outside - but hit the condensation problem. I did feel it worthwhile taking a photo of the sign for the Hammer Massage parlour. Together with its proximity to the sign for the local hospital it suggested an interesting story. |
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We went to the airport by van, bade farewell to Heng and arrived at the check-in desk. There we were offered the chance of moving to an earlier flight, which we grabbed with alacrity. Immigration was interesting. We each went to a desk with an official behind it - no queue at all. The lady at my desk was away with the fairies and only realised that I was there when one of her colleagues shouted at her. He even brandished an umbrella at her. She then processed my documents - lots of use of rubber stamps etc - whilst simultaneously prodding him with the umbrella in return.
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The airport is new and smart, testimony to the tourist dollars pouring into this part of Cambodia. Our plane was a 717, very old but apparently in very good condition. It was on loan to Bangkok Airlines from Siem Reap Airways. The staff were as good as on the incoming flight, everything was very efficient and we landed in Bangkok ahead of time. |
There, we managed to make contact with the travel company to let them know that we were a couple of hours early and could they send the van to collect us. They managed this eventually and we finally reached the hotel - including a detour by some extremely narrow rat runs - about an hour ahead of schedule.
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The initial visit to the tailor's shop proved that my trousers - let out following the last fitting - needed taking in this time. The cotton shirts were good, however, so I ordered a couple of silk ones to complete my trousseau.
The next stop was the shop where Valerie had purchased her "Chanel" watch, which told the time as well as a bottle of their perfume. The man smiled sweetly, changed the battery and even managed to sell her another watch. What a star of the retail profession!
We then set off on a mad dash playing shopping. Hobbling on both legs I struggled to keep up so had no time to take photos or look for things to buy for myself. The food courts in the clothing mall were packed and had a strange system where you had to queue at a window to buy coupons before you could queue at a food counter to exchange the coupons for food and drink. Not feeling mentally strong enough to cope with this, I finally managed to find a stall where I was able to exchange money for a cold drink. This reduced my increasing tantrums just a little and enabled me to last a little longer.
After what seemed an eternity of stalls selling complete tat, we returned home. It was considered that my trousers were OK this time so we collected my clothes and Cory's suits. Our bags will be packed to overflowing when we arrive at the airport unless we manage to dispose of some of our existing possessions.
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The plan was to dine at the Blue Elephant, some way across town, the recommendation of one of Valerie's colleagues. The journey started with a tuk tuk ride - slightly alarming and very carbon monoxide rich - and concluded with a ride on the Skytrain, the newish monorail which flies across the city at first floor level. Very easy and very smart. The restaurant was immediately adjacent to one of the monorail stations. From the outside it looked very smart, a lovely old building with obvious colonial influences. Inside, it was even better. Beautiful décor, beautiful table settings and extremely well trained staff. |
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As we arrived 15 minutes before the official opening time, we were ushered upstairs for drinks. These weren't cheap but everything was stylish. When we moved downstairs to our table, the style continued.
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I made my choices based on dishes that I hadn't tried before. This was, perhaps, a mistake, as they weren't that exciting.
The palm salad was fresh and had plenty of zing, but wasn't memorable. The lamb massoman curry was similar. It arrived in a beautiful clay pot sizzling above a candle. In taste, however, it wasn't too different from many of the curries served in New Zealand's Indian restaurants.
Rice was served by a man carrying a beautiful basket, about the size of a bucket, which contained both plain rice and a more exotic variety.
It was all washed down with a Thai wine - Monsoon Vale Malaga White. (My internet searches when back in NZ reveal that it is a blend of Malaga Blanc and Colombard. The Malaga is grown in Thailand's "floating vineyards", whatever they may be.) It was tasty enough, definitely a food wine but powerful enough to withstand Thai spices.
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We took the Skytrain home and watched the rock concert taking place at Siam Square, where we changed lines.
Arriving at the local station, it was decided that we should walk home in the light rain. We stopped at the same photo place as on a previous occasion to have some of Valerie's photos converted to a CD and then continued on our way.
By the time we reached the hotel, about 25 minutes later, I was tired, wet and very grumpy. I dived into the hotel bar for a beer to cheer myself up.