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3 hours before we boarded a plane to Hawaii, Dean told me we were going to Thailand. "What?! That’s impossible," I retorted "I don’t even have a passport!" But somehow Dean had managed to locate my legal documents after turning over the apartment and jokingly, recalling all the pictures of X-boyfriends he’d been subject to in the search. Thailand was fine with me, only I had packed for a month of leisure, not hiking and hoofing and so, in the hour I had left, I stuffed trek stuff into a back pack, unloading floral skirts and sandals to fit khakis and Nikes. By noon, 2 days latter, we’d be in Bangkok flagging down tutus and bartering for 2-dollar massages and buying trinkets from tinny women with pinched bronzed faces. But Dean didn’t want to waste time in Bangkok so within a couple days we’d be flying to Siam Reap, Cambodia. He’d prefaced the trip with the purchase of a book called "Girls, Guns and Ganja in Phnom Phen," (the country’s capital) which he insisted I read before our arrival. The book prepared me only slightly for what lay ahead at customs. The Cambodian customs burrow is in a warehouse where listless ceiling fans whirled and whisked away flies that landed everywhere else. I stood in line with Dean, behind the man with the camel skin coat and the leopard skin smile. "No have room in passport for visa. Have to go Phnom Phem, Capital. Go get new page for Cambodia visa." Said the 10 year old (exaggeration) to Dean from behind the counter, at which point I stepped up: "Is there anyway we can get around that?" From what I could tell, Phnom Phem was a hundred dollars and 12 hours out of our way and completely unnecessary if the book was right, that Cambodian politics are completely corrupt and subject to loose interpretation. "How much you pay?" asked the 10-year-old. "$20?" Dean asked "Under paper, say nothing, under paper, say nothing" directed the youngster, shoving a pile of disgruntled papers in our direction. Dean placed the bill under the piling and 10 minutes later we were out of there with a newly manifested page to Dean’s passport. 'Secret of the Elephant' was the guest house we decided to stay at after visiting 5-6 other accommodations around town, courtesy of our driver "Phits" who we subsequently hired for the remainder of our stay at $16 US per day. The only accommodations 'Secret of the Elephant' had were a one-bedroom non-air cond. above their sister's restaurant "Madam Butterfly." I loved it. It was tenderly harsh like the yak meat I’d tried in China, like Christmas bells in Harlem, like bittersweet chocolate melting in the midday sun of a Louisiana cupboard. The lanterns hung in crimson and coral. The walls were mosaic and mirrored. Purple flowers twirled like flamenco dancers where butterflies nested in bowties. The air sweated beneath us and the humming of monks and motor bikes lulled us to sleep. I woke up exhausted and exhilarated the way one does before the first day of kindergarten. Pits was waiting for us downstairs while we ate toast with orange marmalade, papaya and light sweet coffee. He took us to Angkor Wat, a collection of ancient temples built between sometime in B.C and 810 AD They were built by successive Hindu rulers. These temples cover some 100 miles and lay undiscovered for centuries until some French explorer happened upon them accidentally. They had been devoured by the jungle, which had gurgled their stones and gulped their history to near demolition. But now, years later, we were walking through them, climbing over them and bowing to them with incense and candles. Nearing sunset we decided to explore the grandest temple of them all "Angkor Wat." Surprisingly, there were only a trickle of people left over, otherwise we had the place to ourselves. It was still hot, although the sun was nearly gone and the cool blue dusk was fondling our skin and eyes and thoughts. Monks strode and dappled different tiers of blue temple rock in crimson and saffron robes. We hiked steep stone steps to the top of an empty place of ritual. Facing west, the last strips of sun fell warm on our cheeks. "Wan’a meditate a while?" asked Dean and we sat on opposite facing pillars. When I felt the warmth of the sun fading on my face I opened my eyes. The twilight had chased the bright from the sky and there, beneath me, on the pillar below me, was Dean, arm extended upward, nervous smile on his face, and ring in hand. He said….. "Will you be my Tomboy Bride?" And I said, "Yes." |
