No sooner had we crossed the border than one girl on our pick-up sighed "Thailand, it's just like home". I knew exactly what she meant. It feels weird, Thailand has so quickly started to feel like home but then I always have been a wherever I hang the little dress of the moment, that's my home kind of girl.
The last few days in Cambodia dissolved away, we spent a few days in Kep another fabulous little colonial era town on the beach front, we ate spiced crab (the local speciality) while watching the sunset. Then the last couple of days back in shiannoukville. The hard sell on the beaches becomes wearing all too quickly, because it's low season the seller to potential customer ratio results in perpetual badgering, especially if you don't want a manicure, pedicure, the hair on your leg ripped out with fast twirling pieces of string, bracelets, massage, postcards, etc. There is very little that makes you feel more like a fat western over indulged flabby pink wealthy capitalist pig then an hour on a cambodian beach.
Children beg the empty plastic drink bottles from your hand while the last drop is still lingering on your lips. Breakfast costs more than most cambodians earn in a month, it can be hard to swallow.
Really wealthy tourists are sheltered from all of this, chauffered from airport to private hotels with private beaches and back again. Backpacking is an exercise in social taxation, we pay to alleviate our guilt.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment