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The thing about watching Rambo in a very plush but completly empty Thai cinema is that you don't have to feel embarassed shouting out "yeah! rip that guys throat out" when Mr. Rambo performs that particular move.
So on my final morning in Bangkok I waited patiently for a bus that was never going to arrive with my luck, and after 10minutes got a taxi to the airport instead. The driver regularly floored it despite the crazy traffic and we got to the airport so fast it was only a tiny bit more expensive than the bus. After a half an hour delay waiting for the plane (the pilot was outside banging something near the wing) we were in the air and I barely had time to finish my snack before we'd landed again.
When I stepped out of the plane, whooosh, the heat. When I walked out of the airport I had it in mind to get a taxi but then I saw a 1 dollar option and picked that. It must have been sunstroke because I ended up with my huge backpack on the back of a motorbike with no helmet or anything. On the way to the hotel the moto-guy was yapping a lot about this and that, asking me stuff real friendly like. Of course I was immediately suspicious and the whole time I was thinking "How can I ditch this guy". Drove for quite a while and it was really evident how much poorer this place was than Thailand, even with the Ankor-led tourist boom. Lots of new expensive hotels sandwiched between absolute poverty.
Got to the guesthouse and peeled my sweaty palms from the moto mans shoulders. The place turned out to be quite nice but before I could even get to my room moto-man wanted to know what time he was picking me up again. Feck. I thought I said something like "You're outa here pal" but it turned into "4.30pm". Anyway, checked in, surveyed my luxurious surroundings and washed some clothes in the sink. Went downstairs and chatted with the nice guesthouse owner from Burma and waited for moto-man. This time I'd decided to be extra brave and wear shorts, figuring a thin layer of northface-gortex-polycotton-composite trousers weren't going to provide much protection in a head on collision.
We drove for ages, moto-man told me his life story and the ticket booth didn't come a moment too soon. Still in a daze I stupidly bought a 1 day ticket instead of one for a few days. Drove some more. Moto-man told me he wanted to be a guide but couldn't afford to go to guide school. I was thinking, how long more to my sweaty palms have to cling to this guys shoulders?! Eventually we reached the moat of Ankor Wat temple and as we road by I could feel the anticipation. I could see the towers just over the tree tops. And we reached the causeway over the moat. And we drove straight by. Moto man assured me that for sunset a nearby temple was much better. So I bowed to his wisdom and got dropped off at the base of a hilltop temple. Queue hordes of "Hello Sa!, You buy this sa!, only one dolla!". Kids and hawkers. A world of poverty away from Thailand. I was cocky and confident and, in the safety of loads of tourists, parted them like the red sea. And climbed. And sweated and climbed.
Eventually made it to the top and was greet by an impressive mound of people completely covering what I presume was an impressive temple. I walked around, tried to get some carefully cropped photos of things, then just gave up and tried to enjoy the vista, a tiny Ankor Wat just visible in the distance. Moto-man was waiting for me at the bottom and as we drove back I decided he needed to be punished for his impudence. When we got back to the guesthouse I said "thanks and so long" just as he was arranging a pickup time for the morning. I have him his cash and before my heart melted to his broken "now I'll never go to guide school" expression I legged it.
After dinner I arranged with the guesthouse to get me a tuk-tuk guy for the morning in time to see sunrise.
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