Like a hurricane (Siem Reap-Singapore-Sydney)

Uncharacteristically Jayne woke before the alarm and, as a consequence, woke me. Why, dear reader? Because she could. We deposited the suitcases outside the door prior to 6am, as requested and walked to breakfast one last time. There were more people in the dining room than I expected at this early time. If they were heading to Angkor Wat for the sunrise, they had missed that opportunity.

As we made our way back to our room to collect our hand luggage, it was obvious that our larger bags had not been collected. They were waiting patiently by our door. We would have to do the unthinkable and manage our own bags. That, is certainly a first world problem.

Unlike the bustling foyer of Hà Nôi, the lobby area at the Siem Reap Sofitel exudes a perpetual calm. This morning was no different. We checked out and before we could even sit down, our guide was next to us ready to shepherd us to the car. A guide? Unnecessary? Absolutely, but he was heading to the airport to pick up the next group of guests, this time for little brother company, Travel Marvel.

The drive was about 45 minutes and we chatted about the trip, Cambodia and the new airport provided, as a gift, by China. It is beneficial because it removes air and ground traffic from the Angkor temple precinct which will assist in the preservation of this amazing, historic site.

The airport was almost deserted when we arrived. It has been in use for just over a month, having just been officially opened by the prime minister, and is still shiny and new, from the marble floors to the giant golden statue of Buddha that greets you on the happy side of immigration and security. 

The face of Buddha.

This facility along with the new road system infrastructure, is a source of great pride and the embodiment of the promise of a brighter future for the next generation of Cambodians, after such a dark recent past. Our guide told us that the vast area surrounding the airport, currently undeveloped 'jungle' as he termed it, is earmarked to become an urban area in the coming years, providing housing, jobs and community facilities.

Plenty of space at the new airport.

Inside the complex, the airline lounges are not yet open, although there is a generic user-pays option for $35USD per person. An option we did not take. We sat down near our gate and watched the crowd slowly build. In the next two hours we only saw two planes, both small discount versions of larger airlines. A very different feel to other international airports.

A busy day ahead.

Our plane was late arriving and the ground crew moved to a pace and rhythm all their own. There is no need to rush. After all, we have a significant layover in Singapore. The champagne welcome on the plane made the wait worthwhile. Qantas could learn a thing or two about short-haul Business Class. The trip from Sydney to Perth is twice as long as this trip and the seats and service are half as good.

Piper Heidsieck in hand, ours, the head steward then came around to take our lunch order. And refill our champagne.  All went well. We watched movies we either won't remember or won't admit watching. By 3:15pm we were seated in the Silver Kris Lounge in Singapore, counting down the hours until the flight home. The layover was longer than I thought it would be, at least 5 hours until we bored. Sorry, board. I was getting ahead of myself.

The last leg of the trip will also be travelled in style. The top deck of the A380, my favourite aircraft. I'm ready for my champagne, my pre-ordered lobster thermidor and a lot of sleep. In the meantime, let's talk toilets. Generally when I've been on a stopover in Singapore, it's been for work and I was in the Qantas Lounge where everything is westernised to cater for the clientele. The Singapore Lounge is, well, different. When I opened the door to the cubicle, the toilet seat rose to greet me. Then I was surprised by a heated seat. Not needed in this climate, I would suggest. Of course it came equipped with a Japanese style bidet and even a 'bum gun' that is popular throughout Vietnam. Naturally the  toilet also flushes itself. After a slight misunderstanding with one of the staff (not the Alan Jones sort), I was somewhat dismayed to find that I had to wash and dry my own hands.

Jayne remarked on more than one occasion how much better the Singapore lounge was when compared to the Qantas lounge. The choice of food and drink was both quality and extensive. And then there's the toilets. Jayne came back laughing. It really is quite the experience. A pity I couldn't take a photo.

The plane was on time pushing back but slightly delayed at take off as we sat in a queue. Regardless we arrived in Sydney on time. Dinner on the last leg, courtesy of 'book the cook' was Lobster Thermidor accompanied by several glasses of Piper Heidsieck bubbles. Very civilised. I watched a movie, sorted out my bed and went to sleep to be woken 30 minutes out from Sydney. Business class is the only way to travel on a long haul flight.

Lobster thermidor.

That, as they say, is a wrap. Until February next year. The northern lights, Scandinavia and Europe. 

Oh, the title? Well, dear reader, we commenced this trip with a song because it is a favourite of mine, so it is only fitting that we conclude in the same fashion. Like a hurricane by Neil Young. The man is a musical genius. He's also produced some pretty average stuff. Don't believe me? Try playing his catalogue from the beginning through till today. I did. Once. Epic fail. No one is that strong. So yeah, don't do that. No one deserves that much punishment, except maybe Morrison, Abbott, Howard, Dutton. Not necessarily in that order. Anyway, have a listen. One of the best guitar solos ever.

Until next time, stay safe.

You look beautiful in white (Siem Reap, Cambodia)

For the sake of simplicity, dear reader, I have decided to combine the next three days. Also because nothing really happened. The attraction of Siem Reap is the temple district. As you would be aware, we had visited three of the temples and didn't feel the need to visit any others. It's a bit like cathedrals in Europe; one can only visit so many before peak cathedral is achieved. It became evident that after 3 temples, we were up to pussy's bow and Ta Promh would be our last.

Thursday

The trickle of departures continued until there was only one couple left, besides us. For whatever reason, we had not spoken with them, so I am unsure as to when they joined the tour. All that meant was, we were on our own. Excellent. No alarm clocks. No FOMO. No organised tours. We were at leisure. Decisions needed to be made.

We turned up for a leisurely breakfast around 9am. The discovery of the 'double espresso' a while back had proven to be a boon. A minimum of two is required to kick-start the day. Along with the obligatory French pastries and fresh fruit.

The lake at the hotel.

Over breakfast, we discussed visiting the Angkor National Museum, a short stroll from the hotel. However, we did not believe the museum would have much more to offer than the actual temple sites. Perhaps with 3D models being the exception. That was something we could see on the internet so the museum was ruled out.

The old markets sheltering from the sun.

Today's excursion would be to the old market. We organised a tuk tuk. He dropped us at the markets for $2USD and offered to wait. An offer we should have accepted. Instead, we negotiated a time for him to come back to meet us.

For that special room.

It is, reputedly, not as good as the night market, but we'll never know. Certainly, it didn't measure up to the market we visited in Phnom Penh. The layout was as challenging as a Sydney cycleway. One avenue looked promising and then abruptly ended at the rear of another stall or was simply blocked. An ordered, sequential attack proved to be impossible, so I went random, which seemed to reflect the markets themselves. There were the usual souvenir style things on offer, shirts, scarves, silk products, carvings, cigarettes - by the carton. Each stall appeared to sell the same goods.

Luckily this stall faced the open street. Very aromatic.

Then we wandered into the produce section. Not just fruit and veg but also meat and fish. In the open. Unrefrigerated. Butchered before your eyes. Well, the fish at least and larger cuts of meat were cut as ordered. Not since I visited the offal room at an abattoir, had I felt such a need to breathe through my mouth; being careful not to ingest the flies that were attracted by the smell.

Don't breathe too deeply.

Looks hygienic enough.

Out into the sun, fresh air and humidity. We wandered Pub Street and Cheers Street and soon realised we had exhausted the old market precinct and we still had a lot of time to kill. In this heat, there was only one option, dear reader. Beer. We found a comfortable seat in the shade at one of the bars and had a couple of draught beers to while away the time. Four beers, about middy size, $3USD

Real Ray Bans, not fake.

As we were watching the very limited passing parade, I was approached by a man selling "genuine" Ray Bans. They were retailing in shops for $45USD. Yeah right. But for me $35. My disinterest brought about an immediate discount. $25. How about $10 I enquired? Eventually he settled for $12, without the 'authentic' Ray Bans case.

I wonder what's in this street?

Back to Mr Narin, our tuk tuk driver, and back to the hotel. We had intended to dine at Mahob, a local Khmer restaurant recommended by our guide, but as we were about to leave to check out the restaurant, it started to rain lightly. We decided not to risk it and, back in our room, the light, unforecast rain turned into a tropical thunderstorm. Good decision to abort the exploration. We dined at the hotel instead.

A beer lost in translation. It has the great taste of ...

Australia was playing South Africa in the World Cup semi-final that night. Despite having about 10 sports channels, not one broadcast the game. We were forced to stay up to date online through an app.

Friday

There was no alarm to wake us and we were pleased to see Australia had won their World Cup semi-final. Breakfast was not only leisurely this morning, it was unnervingly quiet. There were very few people around. Excellent.

The Chef's Walk near the breakfast terrace.

Today would be a first for me. We have stayed at many 'resorts' over the years, but they have always been a base for exploring the local area. Consequently, we have never done the poolside thing. In fact, I have always found such behaviour questionable. Now we were joining the common people, gathering our things and heading for the pool.

It is a very large pool. It has 2 spa areas, a children's pool (sadly), a swim-up bar area and an island. The pool is surrounded by lounges and umbrellas and plenty of shade. Predictably, we chose the less populated side and enjoyed the relative quiet. For a while. A number of people arrived on the other side of the pool, some 25 or 30 metres away. As expected, they began talking to each other. I was tempted to join in the conversation because I could hear every word, as if they were next to me. Nationality? Oh come on, dear reader, you know the rule, choose the nationality of your prejudice.

Thankfully, they didn't stay the distance and we were once again left in peace. Time for a refreshing G&T, at the pool bar, in the water. Another first. We swam up to the bar and ordered. Such a refreshing drink.

We dried off quickly as the sun ate into our shade. Time to decamp and shower to rid ourselves of the chlorine smell.

Dinner was at the highly recommended Mahob, which means 'food' in Khmer. Although they do the hot stone cooking, we decided to stay with their traditional menu. Arriving around 5pm was a good idea because the mosquitos were still hiding in the shrubbery and the restaurant was devoid of diners. We had deep fried spring rolls, chicken satay skewers, morning glory in garlic and chilli, prawn fried rice and tamarind fish, accompanied by a French grenache/syrah. All for $57USD. The food was fresh and flavourful. If we were staying longer, we would have probably returned to try the stone cooking option.

A question, dear reader. How do you know when you've stayed too long in a restaurant? Answer: when you've heard the playlist more than once. Yes, we did. And a pretty average playlist it was, which inspired today's title. You look beautiful in white by Shane Filan from 2017. I'd never heard it before and would be happy never to hear it again. If I was a betting man, and I am, I would wager it has been played at wedding receptions the world over. Lionel Richie's Stuck on you was another featured favourite.

Saturday

And so dawned our last full day in Siem Reap. The established pattern was followed. As with yesterday, the change in weather meant slightly cooler temperatures and lower humidity, so we breakfasted on the terrace. Overnight there had been an influx of tourists and the restaurant and terrace were far more crowded. There was a table of four, near to us, who spoke so loudly that I now know the entire personal history of one woman. Her divorce, what it cost, how they found their new home, the fact that her granddaughter lived with her for 5 years and how her son needs to learn how to manage his money, after two years of her picking up the tab for his overspending. And no, I wasn't eavesdropping. She had no volume filter and just wouldn't shut up.

Huge lilies.

Finally they left. Yay. I finished my second coffee and we went to change and head back to the pool area. Once Jayne was settled, I grabbed my camera and went in search of local wildlife. The hotel is also a self-proclaimed bird sanctuary and there are photographs of birds sighted in the grounds. Probably I should have risen earlier if I wanted to photograph the birds. Still, I managed to capture a few.

Flower on a ginger plant.

Being more aware of the sun today, we selected chairs that would stay shaded longer. Happily they were also on the opposite side of the pool from the growing crowd. We followed the usual pattern, blogging, resting, swimming, drinking a G&T and finally, disappearing to our room to remove the chlorine from our skin.

A Sunda yellow-vented bulbul.

So, I wasn't going to document this, but, whatever. Today by the pool I sneezed. I know. Exciting right? And in doing so, put my back into spasm. Oh yeah. Not a major spasm, I've had significantly worse, but enough to cause inconvenience and restrict my ability to move freely. I now move like so many other of the geriatrics here. Jayne has a theory that I do this deliberately, immediately before we fly. She must keep a tally sheet. Apparently I did it before this trip, before the Perth-Broome-Darwin expedition and prior to flying to NZ in February. I don't keep track; no-one wants to remember pain.

A zebra dove, just like home.

Dinner will be a local affair. I have exhausted my US currency, have no more cash to convert and I don't really want to withdraw more because it is doubtful we will find a use for US currency in the near future. 

A lizard friend from the pool deck.

To mark our final night in Cambodia and over three weeks of eating delicious Asian food, we made the move back to the Western Menu. Pizza for me and a cheeseburger, fries and salad for Jayne. Salad, as a side with a cheeseburger. Weird. I continued my quest to eat a pizza in every country I have visited. This one was more than acceptable - parma ham and rocket on a thin base.

Tomorrow the alarm is set for 5:30am for the early trip  to the airport. There will be one final post, if for no other reason than I haven't published many pictures of flowers. Hopefully the Singapore Air experience on the way home will be as faultless as it was getting here.

Until next time.

Leader of the pack (Siem Reap, Cambodia)

Here we are, dear reader. We have reached the end of our 17 day APT journey. There are but two remaining experiences for us to share before we part company.

This morning is a Freedom of Choice excursion. Unusually, I found the options rather limiting. A 2 hour ride in a horse cart? Not sure my back could withstand that. A shopping trip? We're in Siem Reap for another 3 days so that isn't necessary. A traditional Khmer massage? We had a spa treatment on the ship and could organise one here after everyone else has departed. A cooking class? Tempting but no. A cycle ride through the countryside? Possibly, but that's a me-thing, Jayne wasn't interested. That left ... wait for it ... drum roll ... the quad biking experience. Why not. We signed up. As did many others. It was the largest of the groups. I want to be the Leader of the pack. Goodness, all the way back to 1964 with the Shangri-Las.

And away we go.

With so many activities, there was staggered start to the day. We were leaving at 8:30am. Quite civilised compared to yesterday morning. The quad bike centre was about 20 minutes out of town and the time passed quickly because our guide was practising to be a stand-up comedian. He was quite amusing. At one point he remarked that we all spoke very good English. "First time in Cambodia"? he enquired and was met with many loud statements in the affirmative. "Me too," he quipped. "I born here and never leave. So my first time too." And so it went.

The rice paddy of a wealthy family.

We arrived at the centre and had to sign indemnity forms. It actually indemnified the operators for negligence. Not sure it would stand up at home, but here ... Then it was time to get kitted up. Plastics bags were placed around your shoes. Mud, it was explained. No need for me, I was wearing my hiking boots. Then masks and helmets were allocated and we waited our turn to complete two test laps with a supervisor sitting behind us. No thumbs up, no solo ride. Jayne opted to have an instructor drive her around the course.

Constructing a house complete with elephants.

Everyone sat astride their steed for the morning and we were away. Predictably we hadn't gone 100 metres when one of my favourite problem people was flagged down to suffer the humiliation of being moved to a bike driven by an instructor. It was difficult not to enjoy the moment. Karma, I believe.

Cambodia mixes up its land use.

The ride/drive I know not which verb to use, continued without incident. Through many deep puddles, quagmires of mud, beside rice paddies, swamps, fields, housing construction sites, past waving children to the next village. There we stopped in line outside a temple. Well, they are everywhere. I got off my bike and walked over to Jayne to be told to leave my helmet with my bike. In the 2 minutes that had elapsed, the people on the quads behind me had taken the opportunity to usurp my noble steed and move themselves up the line one place. Really? FFS. Childish. Once a coloniser, always a coloniser. I walked to the end of the line and placed my helmet on the last bike. Whatever.

A temple at the village.

The local village, had, you'll never guess, a market. We were offered a fresh coconut to drink which we both declined. Not a fan. had one too many coconuts in Malaysia when I was still working. Then we were escorted across the road and walked the length of the market. As usual it was a mixture of fresh food, clothes and other necessities. Then it was time for the return journey.

The temple wall.

Back on the bikes, I tried to drop back to stay as far behind the incompetent usurpers as possible. Their lack of expertise and seeming fear to cross every puddle or pothole made that an impossible task. It was still good fun and I would certainly do it again. 

The market.

Back at the bike centre, the others had their plastic bags removed from their feet, we rehydrated (water only), and wiped as much dust from our clothes and belongings as possible. When it was time to board the bus, some people actually ran. One must assume to gain a seat they believed was superior in position to others. I thought I was on a Year 8 excursion.

The afternoon was free until the Apsara dance performance and farewell dinner this evening. Tonight was a "free pour" night. That always makes me laugh because there is generally one person responsible for serving the alcohol and there were around 70 of us. It would be difficult to drink too much.

The musicians.

The dance performance and accompanting traditional music was held in the ballroom. The dances were similar to those we'd seen on the ship and at the ODA school. Except this time it was not students but professionals. Watching the performance proved challenging, even from the third row. Why, you ask, dear reader? Mobile phones being used as video cameras being held up to capture the whole dance. Jayne was constantly shifting her chair to try to gain a clear view. Is it really that difficult to be aware of others?

Traditional Aspara dancers.

The boys are fishing for wives. Not very PC.

The Monkey King.

After the entertainment, Long provided his last not brief briefing, once again relating departure details. Repetitive? Definitely. Unnecessary? Not at all. There was at least one amongst us who responded to so many questions with, "I don't know". What time is your flight? IDK. What airline are flying with? IDK. What activity did you choose? IDK. Do you have a Cambodian visa? IDK. Frustrating. Amusing at first. Then not so much. Also, never happy, with any experience, dinner, accommodation. Good one Irena (if you know you know, dear reader).

Being next to the door, I almost made it out first, only to pipped at the post by one of those who always has to be first. It did not, however, stop us scoring a table for six and being able to sit with the people we chose.

I'm sure dinner was lovely but I really don't remember it. We chatted away and enjoyed the company and were one of the last groups to vacate the restaurant. It was for many the last night in Siem Reap, with the first people leaving at 5:30am the next day and then a slow trickle of departures after that.

Until next time.

Thieves in the temple (Kampong Cham, Siem Reap, Angkor Thom, Cambodia)

We were awake at 5:30am, dear reader. Our bags were outside our stateroom before the appointed hour and we were seated at breakfast shortly after 6:15. Breakfast was the usual affair, although we had been warned by our tour guide not to imbibe too much coffee or tea because of the long bus trip ahead. (He was concerned about incontinence amongst his charges). Service was perhaps a little slow. I think they were focussed on the arriving crowd rather than the departing group.

I discovered something else last night, dear reader. There is a coffee machine on our level. A real one with beans that need to be ground. The working class boy inside of me eschewed the concept of our “butler” providing us with a morning coffee and now it was time to regret. We could have been having proper coffee every morning. Ah well.

Everyone assembled in the lounge at 7:40 for the final disembarkation from the Mekong Serenity. We were back in our three colour groups, one specially modified bus (allegedly) per group. Apparently, a number of seats had been removed to provide more space to stretch your legs. It is, after all, a 5 and a half hour bus trip to Siem Reap.

The seats were certainly larger than usual, think Business Class on a plane plus they had a foot rest and could also decline. I was more interested in sitting my seat up straighter and tried to adjust the seat back. The end result was my seat reclined into the lap of the person behind me. All much to Jayne’s amusement. “Oh, Liz, you could give Brad a head massage while we drive along!” she managed to get out between fits of laughter.

Seat re-positioned, I extracted the computer from my pack and began editing photos and catching up the blog.

We stopped after an hour for people to use the “happy room”. They are unable to say toilet over here. Maybe it’s an APT thing. The toilets were quite visible, to the amusement of some. The urinals may as well have been on the driveway for all the privacy they offered. The women’s toilets were more secluded and, hanging on a hook by the mirror, was a grimy green comb, presumably for anyone to neaten up their hair before resuming their journey.

Back on the bus, I had just settled into writing the blog and the announcement was made that we were stopping again. I swear we hadn’t been driving for more than 20 minutes. Anyway, we stopped at Preypors River. Actually, it’s more of a lake, which apparently never dries up and is obviously a major stop for APT tour buses. 

This was not a mat.

The complex consists of a restaurant, takeaway fast food and a souvenir shop full of weird toys, packets of strange food, along with clothing and other keepsakes that we have seen in countless markets along the trip.

The "special" view. Not so special. A lake, not a river.

The takeaway was doing a roaring trade, especially in ice creams, but they actually had a real coffee machine and the temptation to try a decent coffee, after several weeks of disappointment, became overwhelming. An espresso was ordered and, while it was delivered in a paper cup, joyously it contained the best coffee since leaving Australia!

Barbequed salted fish, anyone?

While I luxuriated in sipping this liquid gold, we wandered out the back to the restaurant on the lake to sit and take in the view. The lakeview, however, was hard to focus upon since, hanging all the way along the edge of the roof, was a series of clear plastic bags, tied up by string and each showcasing liquid of varying colours: red, green, yellow. A couple had presumably suffered a rupture and were flapping emptily in the light breeze. But the rest glinted in the sunlight, dancing and posing the question, “Why?” No answer was forthcoming and so we re-boarded the bus, bound for one more detour before our intended destination, Siem Reap.

Just weird.

The bus rolled into the carpark of a large complex, 5 minutes from our hotel, so that we could all obtain a temple pass that would be used over the next two days to allow us to enter the precinct for which Siem Reap is world renowned. These passes are mandatory and their pre-purchase expedites the entry of large groups of people into the UNESCO listed 401 square kms parcel of land that houses many temples. This site would be where we would be spending the majority of our time over the final days of the APT tour. Perhaps it should be renamed an AFT tour. Come on dear reader, use your imagination, you can work it out.

Our temple pass, valid for three days over the next week, comes resplendent with our photos. The process of getting our photos taken and having the passes in our hands was remarkably efficient. However, the photos. Oh my! The camera must have been “made in China” a line which is a local joke. My likeness bears a stronger resemblance to Barnaby Joyce than it does me. On second thought, I’m not even certain the beetrooter could go that red in the face.

We later learned that these passes also provide a donation of $2 per pass towards the provision of a free children's hospital and maternity unit for the local community - a precious resource in this developing country.

The welcome at the hotel.

We arrived at the Sofitel in Siem Reap to collect our room key and have a quick light lunch. Then it was straight to our room where our bags were waiting at the door. My Accor membership paid dividends once again and we had been upgraded. Our suite comes with a sitting room and a bowl of fresh fruit.

Almost more space than at home.

Then it was back to foyer to board our buses for Angkor Thom which translates as ‘great city’. The temple passes were clipped at a checkpoint and then we were required to change from the big bus to a Toyota Coaster. They limit the size of the vehicles in particular areas of the park to minimise vibration and to fit through narrow ancient stone entry points. The first stop was the Bayon Temple, also known as the temple of the faces for reasons that are obvious when you see the photos.

The money shot.

The whole area is surrounded by a moat that is 100 metres wide and access was across a narrow bridge and through a gate in the wall. The bridge was adorned with statues of the heads of gods on one side and demons on the other. We scheduled a photo opportunity on the return journey.

Watching out of the corner of his eye.

Ever feel like you're being watched?

Our guide, Reaksmey, was brilliant and he steered us away from the big crowds to the best vantage points. It really is a special place and I was constantly imagining how the temples and other structures originally looked. From Bayon, we visited the Terrace of the Elephants, a long, elevated platform with an edifice of elephants on both sides where the king would watch parades and games of polo. No really, polo. The grassed area directly in front of the relief was extremely boggy and I didn't have the big telephoto lense.

The wall of elephants.

In discussing our experiences later that evening, it became apparent that we really did win the tour guide lottery. People from the other two groups didn’t get to see some of the things we saw, or indeed do some of things we did. We were the only group to climb the steps to the king’s platform.

The climb up to the King's platform.

Looking down on the peasants. Well peasant.

We retraced our route and stopped briefly on the other side of the bridge where it began to rain. How refreshing. I was unconcerned because I couldn't get any wetter than I was already.

All in a row.

A close up of a god.

We drove to our original bus and returned to the hotel to remove our dripping wet (perspiration, not precipitation) clothes and prepare for dinner. The afternoon temperature had reached over 30° and the humidity was over 75%. Combine that with the distance walked and the fact that some areas lacked any breeze and it made us all pretty moist. Not in a good way.

One of the garden ponds at the hotel.

Dinner was a “freedom of choice” affair and a number from our original entourage chose to dine at Malis. The food was very good but the entrée serves were ridiculously large. The bowl of noodles we were individually served, could have fed 2 or 3 people. At another table that was not part of our group, the same meal was served and it was half the size. None of us consumed the entire dish because we wanted to be able to eat the main. Service was slow and inconsistent and, overall, the night was not a brilliant success.

The tuk tuk drivers that earlier had delivered us to the restaurant, waited outside to return us safely to the Sofitel hotel. We were driven home via Pub Street. This is the place where it all happens. Apparently. It was loud and neon lit at the entrance: not really my style. Perhaps I’ll check it out during the day.

Back at the hotel it was strictly time for bed. We have a 4:15am wake-up call tomorrow to see the day dawn over Angkor Wat.

Although we didn't see any thieves in the temple, I'm sure they preceded us by many years. The British Museum would have been among them as they "acquired" exhibits. Anyway, this is a classic by Prince. Enjoy.

Until next time.