On Christmas Eve I arrived in sweaty Siem Reap (after fulfilling my tradition of watching The Muppet Christmas Carol on the bus) and immediately regretted my choice of hostel. It was nice; clean, shiny, quiet, but a bit too quiet. I peered into the void that was the atmosphere and asked myself, “Where are the people?” Despondent, I wandered around town and got something to eat (a surefire way to elevate my spirits). On my return, I saw two guys sitting outside; Alaskan Maurice and Columbian Oscar. I eagerly thrust my company upon them. We sat outside talking for hours, until it got dark. When it got dark, it stayed dark – the hostel was suffering from a power cut. Brian, the carefree and utterly inept Aussie who owns the place, cheerfully informed us that he had no idea when the power would be back, but that last time this happened, the outage lasted ten days. The utter hopelessness of the situation was hilarious – we likened it to a reality TV show, wherein a group of strangers with ornate personalities were forced into a pressurised situation to see who would crack first. We took everything in our stride, had a couple of beers, and by the time we left for Pub Street the lights were back on – Christmas was un-cancelled. We met up with Manuel, another sassy Columbian, and Andrea, a friendly Swedish girl, and danced into the early hours – it made a change from Midnight Mass.
We got up bright and early on Christmas Day – really early – 4:50, and with three hours of sleep obfuscating our consciousness, piled into a tuk-tuk headed for Angkor Wat. We arrived just as the temple was emerging from the shadows, and watched as the milky dawn spread across the sky, gradually revealing the most famous silhouette in Cambodia. We then explored Ta Prohm, the location used in Tomb Raider. Primordial trees grasped the ancient stone, the roots falling like a web over the rocks, squeezing the temple tightly in an arboreal embrace. The early morning light created a mystical atmosphere, the sound of birds and cicadas the only thing able to penetrate the heavy hush that sat over the site.
We then separated into two groups – Maurice and Andrea went back to the hostel, Oscar and I embarked on the Grand Circuit. We spent the next nine hours flitting from temple to temple, clambering over the uneven stone in thirty two degree heat. I had a disappointing Christmas Dinner of chicken and pineapple, and we eventually crashed mid-afternoon, glad to return to the cool marble of the frosty hostel. I spent the remainder of the day Skyping family, who savoured every detail of their delicious festive preparations, and proudly showed me the gifts they’d received (none of which were from me – sorry guys, I’ll bring you back some tourist tat). It was at this point that I checked my bank account, and for the first time in four months discovered an augmentation rather than a diminishment. I thanked everyone profusely, and zealously began plotting out another month or so of travel. I went to bed pretty early, watching Love Actually as my eyes began to droop. It had been a good day, but I would have given anything to teleport home, just for twenty four hours.
Boxing Day was, conforming with another tradition, recovery day – but on this occasion it was fatigue rather than overeating that was the root of my sloth. I slept late, had a leisurely breakfast with Manuel, and just sat in a comfy chair on the terrace, watching the day pass. In the evening Maurice and I went to see an Apsara show. The gorgeous costumes and enchanting movements transported us to an ancient time. The beautiful women flexed their fingers back in elegant arches, stretched their hyper-extended elbows, and seamlessly transferred their weight as they walked across the stage, to give the impression that they were gliding. The dancers were a reification of the images we’d seen carved in the stone of the temples. Their balance and control was breathtaking, and it was only when the dance was over that our hypnosis was broken.
The following day I cycled back to the temples, accompanied by Justin, an American teaching English in Korea. We made an early start, but were disappointed to find Angkor Wat already groaning under the feet of hoards of tourists. We visited the tranquil faces of Bayon, and the Terrace of Elephants and Leper Kings, but at this point the heat got too much, and we cycled back to town.
It’s been a strange Christmas. This has been the most difficult part of my trip so far, and while I’ve had a good few days and met some fantastic, generous people (thank you), it wasn’t like being at home. I missed the build-up, the anticipation, the excitement, the joy, the gratitude, and the love of Christmas, and while I was able to speak to friends and family, I wasn’t able to feel that magical festive sensation. You never know how much you appreciate these things until they’re absent. This is a lesson learnt – I’m not going to miss another Christmas.