TY-land Confessions Of A World Traveler, By Tyler Thrash

Back by popular demand! So many of you enjoyed Tyler Thrash's earlier reporting of his adventures in Thailand, that we asked him to continue the fun. This time he's writing about Cambodia, but we're still calling his travel posts "Ty-land" because, after all, it's Tyler's world, we just live in it.

Holiday In Cambodia

SEPTEMBER 17TH
We left early for Siem Reap, Cambodia today. Our mini-bus arrived at the ungodly hour of 7am and, sleepily climbing aboard, we were on our way to the dock where a ferry would take us back to the Thai mainland. I was feeling groggy from the previous evening's festivities, so I got a large iced coffee on the way. That proved to be a big mistake.I can't handle coffee. It makes me anxious, nervous, and shaky...then I throw up. And that's exactly what happened on this day. Not five minutes had passed on the boat when I found myself in the bathroom, purging the caffeinated demon over a not-so-Western-style toilet (for those who are uninitiated in third world travel, this means that there's no seat to be found, merely a hole in the floor and two places to put your feet). It was horrible. Mocha latte spewed everywhere and sprayed back up from the bowl and hit me in the face. This occurrence made my already depraved situation even worse. Lord only knows what might have resurged from that Godforsaken hole and landed in my goatee! Adding insult to injury, I discovered that there was no water in this so-called restroom! Fortunately for me, Kenn always travels with Purell. I sanitized my hands and face and said a little prayer to Buddha, hoping nothing terribly infectious had touched me, or, more specifically, gotten in my mouth. Around noon, we stopped for lunch and had time for a dip in the restaurant pool (it even had a slide! Weeee!) before switching to our final transport. A few hours later, we were crossing the border into Cambodia, home of Angkor Wat. This was where the nicely paved Thai road ended and morphed into the frightfully bumpy, muddy, uber-third world Cambodian highway. More than once, I became utterly convinced that the bus was about to flip over onto its side. I quickly looked for something I might grab onto in order to keep myself from landing on Kenn. "This is just like Ecuador," I murmured, grumpy and terrified, recalling the details of a South American excursion in which my bus nearly flew off a cliff following a near-miss with a Mack trunk. Looking out the window for succor, I was unsoothed to notice several cars that had spun out and flipped any number of times into the rice fields. Calm-blue-ocean, calm-blue-ocean.

At eight o'clock that night, we pulled into what must have been the only restaurant for at least a hundred miles. Yet again, Kenn was served something he didn't order. As opposed to digging in, we sat there and pondered what type of meat might be in his fried rice. Beef? Pork? Something a little more exotic? This is a pertinent query in a locale such as Cambodia, and our minds simultaneously conjured up images of the platters of grilled tarantulas piled high and ready to eat at every bus stop we'd passed. Kenn bit the bullet and tried whatever it was, only to find that its texture was more akin to said bullet than the flesh of any known animal. Normally, I would have asked to sample another dish, but not this time (and I once ate guinea pig, complete with head).

Dinner concluded and we set off on the final leg of this long and daunting travel day. Thirty minutes into the trip, I was stuck with the dire need to relieve myself (I knew I shouldn't have had that last beer). Cursing myself and sitting on my hands, I let an hour go by, at which time I really had to go. An hour after that, I wasn't sure if I was going to make it. I had no idea where we were, how long it was going to take to get to our final destination, or if we might have another stop. I resembled a five-year-old about to burst, grabbing my crotch and doing a seated pee-pee dance, bouncing around uncomfortably and praying the next song on the iPod shuffle wouldn't include any references to water or liquid or, God forbid, be by Billy Ocean! Finally, we arrived in some version of a town. I pleaded in desperation with the powers of the universe, "Please, make this Siem Reap!" My wish was granted. When the bus stopped at Green Garden Village, I was the first off. I ran into the lobby. "Where's the restroom?" The man at the counter pointed to a door across the room. I ran through it and into a stall. Fumbling with my belt, button, and zipper I barely made it. AHHH RELIEF!

We checked into our room and decided it was definitely time for a cocktail. Unfortunately, the hotel restaurant only served beer. This was unacceptable to Kenn. He wanted vodka and that was that. I wanted vodka too, but I would've been okay with beer. I ain't too picky. One of the front desk guys told us that he and his friend would take us to a bar. So, we jumped onto their scooters and we were off for our first night out in Cambodia. My driver had to stop and get a different bike on the way. Kenn's driver had to stop and smoke one of Kenn's cigarettes. We finally made it to the "bar" and found out it doubled as a brothel. This was when my driver informed me I could take a girl back to the room and not be charged for an additional guest. "Oh, well, thank you, but not tonight." I said. "Tomorrow night?" he queried. "I get you lots of girls," he said smiling. "We'll see. Maybe." I replied, coyly. Kenn asked me what he was talking about. The place was so loud you could barely hear the person screaming in your ear. "Let's go somewhere else and I'll tell you." I shouted, hoping he could at least read my lips. Down the alley, we found a nice quiet place to have a drink. It was a lot like the Quiet Mon, but on the third floor. After a few drinks we bought cocktail supplies and returned to the room, where we discovered the restaurant had no ice. Oh well, warm cocktails are better than no cocktails.

September 19TH
We checked out and went to find a ride to The Old Market. We found two guys on mopeds who wanted to take us there, but they didn't know where it was. After a brief stop at the bus station and a game of charades, our drivers finally figured out where it was we wanted to go and, shortly thereafter, were delivered to Fresh Guesthouse. We were right across the street from the market. Perfect...too perfect. The market was a wealth of temptation for me. I wanted everything and I couldn't stop myself. I kept saying, "Kenny, get me out of here. I'm going to lose control." I bought a stunning silver bracelet for my mother next to a stand that had an interesting collection of squid nailed to boards hanging and drying in the sun. Mmmmmm, calamari jerky! Actually, I was tempted for a moment, if only to make Kenn gag and wretch, but I refrained.

It was getting late and I was hungry and in need of refreshment, so we went to The Warehouse, a little corner bar and restaurant next to our hostel. There, I discovered I could get a free T-shirt for dancing naked on the bar. Fabulous! I've never danced naked on a bar in a communist country and I couldn't wait to check it off my list. I even got to pick my own song. After a quick dash back to the room for my iPod, I instructed the DJ to play Madonna's "Hung Up". There was only one snag in my adventure in public nudity: the only size T-shirt they had was women's small. Not about to let this small detail deter my exhibitionism, I reasoned that it would make a great gift for my friend Vicki back on St. John. I asked the bartender if he had Jagermeister and, to my surprise, he produced the iconic bottle. That turned out to be not such a good thing (I think the guy had a thing for me). He used his camera phone to video my little dance and gave me shot after shot after shot for free. Eventually, I made it back to the room. Three flights of stairs have never been more intimidating.

September 20TH
I was so hung over this morning. It took everything I had to drag my corpse-like body out of bed to go see some of the temple ruins of Siem Reap. Jager is the devil. When am I going to learn that?  A quick English breakfast and we were off to the temples with our new tuk tuk driver, Fred. Ten dollars to drive around all day and we were off to visit the ruins. It rained. And then it rained more. And then it kept raining. I felt like one of those tourists who complains because, "It's raining on MY vacation?!" It was beautiful anyway. The stone faces of Bayon, the delicate carvings of Preah Ko, and the towers of Angkor Wat reaching for the sky made it all worth it. Rain or shine, hung over or not, the Khmer people have certainly built some of the most amazing structures on the planet. And I only threw up once. More to come of this day....

Editor's note: Tyler is one of the very few people who can pull off adventures like this because he has some crazy mixture of charm, luck, and chutzpah. Most of us would get arrested. As a community magazine we can't condone getting drunk and dancing naked...but it sure is funny the way he tells it.