to Siem Reap

Took the minibus from the border at Poi Pet, winding slowly on the dirt road, windows rattling, whole bus squeakingandquakingandbangingandbreaking on the corregations and potholes and the intense noise dattadattadattadattadattadattadattadatta - the darkness closing in and the pressure headaches too, moving around in the chair, trying to find a half-way acceptable position for sleep, an impossible task, and outside the men stand to their waists in stagnent ponds untangling fishing nets while grub faced children send serious waves from the waters edge and women stand under signs proclaiming the Cambodian People's Party and the bus jolts and bucks and every passenger has clenched jaws and as the bus finally decends into darkness, at the front, the wide toothy smile of the Cambodian bus guide, beaming back across the slumped corpses of former tourists.

In Siem Reap, a hundred motorcycle drivers holler for business. The darkened streets, puddled with mud and thick with smoke from food carts. A guesthouse is found, a bed is fell upon, a mosquito net tugged to the edges of the soft white mattress. Sleep is immediate.

And long. Awaking far too late for recommended sunrise temple viewing I realise exactly how sick I have become, with hacking cough and dizzy head, but manage to drag townwards to find throat lozenges and food. The first moto driver to approach gets lucky, and after finding a dry and almost tasteless fluffy pancake and a tray of orange flavoured Strepsils, we chug northwards towards Angkor.