It was freezing when my moto driver brought me to the park office, 20 km away. He would wait for me until noon and then we'd go back home. I saw my missionary friends waiting for the rest of their group to arrive, so I asked if they were getting a truck up to the top. Most of them were making the 3,000 step pilgrimage on foot actually, so it was decided that I could share their truck with them, there would be plenty of room. This required a lot of waiting around, but I think it was better than going on my own.
Their amazed reactions to everything was more than enough entertainment for me. I walked up to the cliff on my own, but on my way down, I saw them coming up. We chummed around as they took those "inspiring" photos of each other, gazing off into the distance, everywhere.
They had a little picnic and I was happy they got me down by noon, so that Mr. Cham, my driver didn't have to wait.
I had an amazing fish lettuce wrap lunch and then spent the afternoon at a TV cafe catching up on my journal and using the wifi. I was propositioned for sex by a strange man who began showing me pornographic photos on his phone, until I started screaming NO NO NO NO NO at him. He left quietly.
Later I went back to my dreary guest house, took a nap and then crossed the street for some beers with a team of Coca Cola distributors. They seemed quite happy to push smaller Cambodian drink companies out of business to make way for "good quality" products such as Fanta, Dasani and the like. Hmm. I tried to imagine what it would be like to see a huge American conglomerate as inherently better than anything made in my own country by my nighbours. I guess that's what happens when your country is broken and you can't even trust your own people.
Anyway, the deep fried mushrooms were amazing dipped in mayonnaise and hot sauce, as well as the steamed fish cakes barbecued in banana leaves. But I got that weird rash on my throat again, so I vowed never to eat strange processed fish again. One day I might die.