Khmer Massage and Monkey Fun

 

Siem Reap – the city of beautiful and mysterious Angkor Wat, and that of not-quite-so-beautiful-and-definitely-not-mysterious hordes of tourists. Including myself, for a couple of days, because I want to learn the art and skill of Khmer massage, and Siem Reap appears to be the only place where one can do so. I opt to take the boat from Phnom Penh which goes up the Tonle Sap river and across the vast Tonle Sap lake. The trip will take more than six hours, and I picture myself frolicking on deck of a shiny boat, eating breakfast and enjoying the view. Instead, I am temporarily mortified to find out that passengers are led into a narrow metall tube with low ceilings, tiny round windows that can’t be opened and so little space in between the rows of seats that I quickly get familiar with all sorts of elbows. Oh, and the smoke of the engine is blowing in, too, and apparently not going anywhere after that. I stifle a sudden attack of claustrophobia, eat a peanut cookie, and then – thank heavens – realize that we are allowed to climb onto the boat’s rounded deck. That’s much better, everyone gathers on top of the metall tube, and then we spent the next hours watching the surroundings change from city to suburb to countryside until finally we are on the lake and cannot see any shore at all.

 

My time in Siem Reap starts with a re-assuring sign in the hostel I am staying at.

I am particularly glad that hand grenades are not allowed, that does make me feel quite safe. Steep stairways lead up and seem to swing considerably under my feet. Once up in my room I realize that there’s a hell of a ruckus going on just above my head, and – of course – I later find out that there is a kids Taekwondo training center above me. I decide to leave and get something to eat, and when I open my door there is a long street of ants just in front of it, which - I’m sure! - had not been there a couple of minutes ago. Can they smell me? My peanut cookies, wrapped up in two plastic bags? I flee. And get a first idea of just how many tourists there are in Siem Reap, roaming the bars and, yes, the hippie pants shops. In the end the ants don’t seem so bad at all, and I call it an early night.

My massage course starts early the next day, and my two lovely teachers get right into it. We change into red hot pyjama outfits out of rather thick cotton, and I’m immediately covered in sweat, which the two ladies find hilarious. There’s lots and lots of other things we’ll find hilarious over the course of the next three days, mostly me trying to make sense out of their explanations (again: that language problem) and quite speedy demonstrations. Where exactly am I supposed to put my thumbs, before I lean in with all my weight and strength? It can be painful, the Khmer massage, especially if one has to repeat the same move over and over again for practice. And painful for both, my poor massage victim and me – my thumbs hurt! One of the girls assures me that that’s normal. She would cry every day before and after work because her thumbs hurt so much, until she took to bathe them in hot water every morning and finally got used to it. Well then.

In between we relax and talk. Sometimes other women join us during their break, take a little nap on the next massage bed or join our English-Khmer conversation. I learn that both girls have kids, both cannot afford to live with their children but have to leave them with their parents. They go and visit every couple of weeks. This is an arrangement I come across over and over again in Cambodia. Children are precious and much loved, photos of them are readily produced, among others by proud tuk tuk drivers, wrapped up in plastic foil to protect them from all harm and dust. But often the kids stay with the grandparents in the countryside – some, little money can only be made in the cities, leaving no time to also look after an infant. First it makes me sad to hear those stories. Wouldn’t the children horribly miss their parents and vice versa? But then I realize that still, none of those proud moms and dads would ever change with me, of course. I’m about 15 years past the appropriate age of getting married, let alone having children! Hopeless case, me. Now THAT’s a sad story.

After three days I know how to stretch fingers with a satisfying, clicking sound. I can do the “crab walk” on tense back muscles, rub numb ears back to rosy life and twist tired flesh on thighs under my fists. I also know that this is not going to be my body therapy of choice, my own body just can’t seem to ease into it. I can’t feel the flow, so to say. But it was fun, and I reluctantly say good-bye to my lovely teachers.

I have got one day left in Siem Reap. By now the ants have found their way into my bathroom, but – yay! – I still haven’t spotted a single hand grenade! 

Evidently, there’s only one thing to do on my last day: see Angkor Wat, the famous temple. I’d like to see the sunrise at Angkor Wat, so I arrange for a tuk tuk driver to pick me up at 5 in the morning. 

We drive out of the city and, after while, into a peaceful area that smells like forrest. Well, peaceful except all the tourists, of course, who had the same idea like me. When the tuk tuk driver tells me we’re there, it’s still pitch dark. Some people have torches, and I just follow the small circles of light dancing across ancient stones and walls. Everyone settles around a pond, and by now I’m more fascinated by all those people than by the prospect of seeing the sun rise behind the monument.

Really? They come with laptops, take away food and picknick gear. Discuss mosquito repellents and camera options and coffee-now-or-later. It’s a party, at 5.30 am! I almost forget what we’re waiting for, maybe this is it? I get this creepy shopping mall feeling. Surely, someone is gonna sell Köttbullar, any minute now.  

 

I get up just as the darkness turns into pale pink dawn and finally make my way around the arguably very impressive temple. Blissful silence, solitude and huge trees surround me. I find a little building with some ceremonial (?) decoration, where time seems to stand still. A tree that looks as if someone wants to make her way out of it. Finally, back at the main building, the warm light of early sun rays on ancient stone pillars.  

I look around for some time and then leave to see another one of the many, many temples. But the sun is up and strong and it’s very, very hot. There are tourists everywhere, some of them taking jump shots of each other in the temples. There’s elephant rides round and round in circles and massive groups of people who all belong together and who make it impossible to follow any path but theirs. I accidentially drop my camera, and after that there’s a huge black spot on every picture. Right. I figure there’s only two things I can do to fight upcoming grumpiness: get away from it all and ideally find some animals. I climb up the highest temple I can find, which leaves me covered in sweat but also provides me with a great view, a soft breeze and no one else around. I’m foolishly happy when I succeed in taking a picture were the black spot lines up with the dark building – almost not there anymore!

Then I climb back down and look for some monkeys. That’s easy, they hang out between the walls, shake cobwebs until the spider comes out to play or play family (picture on top).  

 

And then I leave, first Angkor Wat, and, the next day, Siem Reap. In between I have a restless night – the ants have finally found their way into my bed. At least: no hand grenades. Not one. So glad that sign was there!