Siem Reap, Cambodia

Things started to go wrong when someone lifted Simon's wallet. There were about five taxi drivers and ten locals surrounding him and leaving me well alone. That was when the car had broken down and he was negotiating transport to Siem Reap. I was watching his back. Obviously I didn't do a very good job but when you're focussed on a bunch of large scowling men talking in a language you don't understand, it's hard to see everything.

We had entered Cambodia in the dark, a direct result of my talking to girls for an hour instead of packing. It took six hours of bus and tuktuk rides before we arrived at the border, one of the most depressing places I have ever been. We walked across a bridge over the open sewer that is the Thai / Cambodian frontier, small naked children begging for money around our feet.

The road to Siem Reap was like a massive one lane motocross course with five lanes worth of traffic. We bounded and rolled, the taxi stopping to carry four plastic barrels of gasoline which sat in the boot with our backpacks, tempting cars to rear end the bumper. We kept our mouths shut as to not risk biting off our tongues, bracing ourselves over every bump.

I thought that the theft of our money was the worst thing that could possibly happen. After the second tire burst and we were running on a buckled rim, watching trees move at walking pace, I changed my mind. We gave the rim five minutes to last and for the car to stop. After twenty five I went to sleep.

I slept through the kindness of the people who lent us their spare tire. I had in fact slept through all of the tire changes and our drivers' smiling efforts to deliver us to Siem Reap. When you focus on scowling, It is hard to see everything.