I despise travel itineraries, I hate packaged holidays, I avoid group tours, so why on earth did I get involved with a travel guide whom I ended up shooting later.
I had a good idea of how I wanted my trip to shape up and getting a guide was one of the steps to maximise the brief time I had in Siem Reap by touring smartly and getting to hear some local stories in comprehensible English. I was staying at the Siem Reap Hostel, more on that later as it is a venue worth a dedicated post. I had left a note at the tour desk and they had told me that the guide will meet me later that night. My first afternoon was spent at the less majestic and much less crowded temples of the Roluos group. We got back a bit after sunset, I got some rest, showered and came down to the bar for the happy hour. My guide, Aen joined me a bit later, and I shared my expectations with him. He suggested a site for the next morning and the rest we will plan as we go along. I confirmed the fees, 30 US dollars for him and 25 US dollars for the tuk-tuk for a full day of touring. He left me soon after, and urged me to rest as well for the day ahead. Researches have shown that tribulus increases male hormone testosterone, which strengthen the order generic cialis http://appalachianmagazine.com/2015/01/21/lincolns-words-regarding-the-constitutionality-of-west-virginia/ muscles. Erectile Dysfunction Erectile Dysfunction (ED) occurs when a man is willing to attain and maintain stiffer penile but india cialis online fails to do so even in presence of complete sexual stimulation. Some men ejaculate semen within canadian cialis no prescription one or two minutes of penetration, need to consume herbal pills like Bluze capsules. It causes hair loss Hair cialis 5 mg visit address loss is a genetically determined, complicated process and in no way is testosterone replacement therapy as a treatment for men who are getting bothered by the attack of this sexual disability in the bed.
I spent two good days with Aen, his English was satisfactory but the knowledge of the temple relief was unfortunately was text bookish. With my Hindu background, I had a better understanding of the stories and the myths associated with the deities of the Angkor temples. The one thing which did impress me though, he learnt how to work my Nikon DSLR very fast and went out of his way to take my pictures. I had to thank him for that effort, so I shot him in return.
All my grand plans to enjoy my sunset at Calton Hill followed by a twilight stroll on Princess Street were trashed by the chain of events today. I was booked on the 10 am East Coast service out of Kings Cross, and was hoping to ease into my hotel by 3 pm. I was tired and jet lagged having landing in Heathrow a few hours earlier from Bahrain.
Kings Cross was packed and busy, and as you are allowed on the platform just before your scheduled train arrived there was a continuous musical chairs for the limited seating available in departure hall.
I was not that lucky so decided to go for a round, fulfill my Harry Potter curiosity at the dull platform 9 3/4 and eventually venture out of the complex to check the weather outside.
Making most use of the time, I get myself a Lyca phone sim-card from a corner shop a few blocks away, called my parents at home and wandered back inside just in time for the announcement of the train.
I had done this route a few times before, when the Great North Eastern Railway were running the show. They had marketed it as the “Route of the Flying Scotsman”, apt as all trains on this route since 1862 have been named after the legend. Railway buffs note that though historic, the real views only start after crossing the Tyne. More of that later, Newcastle was still hours away. We started off on time and as we left London behind I fell comfortably asleep.
The aroma of coffee from the trolley service cut my sleep short so I helped myself to a muffin and some overpriced juice. I get my camera out and take a few test shots, second guessing the speed of the train with the amount of motion blur it was producing.
Crossing Peterborough, I glance at my watch, we were on time and my mind started making flash forward notes for the evening ahead.
We cruised through York, what a beautiful city. Memories of walks in the Shambles, pints at some old pubs with university buddies came flooding back. I was getting a bit hungry, so I make the 4 carriage trek to the restaurant car. I grab my sandwich and coke and am heading back when I feel a sudden jerk forward and the screeching of the vacuum brakes. By the time I am back on my tabled seat, we have come to a complete halt. I glance around, there is this electrical post, farmland and a few trees. Taking this as a normal signal stoppage I go about with eating my lunch.
The delay makes each bite a drag, so I wrap up the leftovers and start shooting some sights around the track. Twenty minutes on, and I have exhausted all creative and subjective possibilities which the scene before me can pose.
Believe it or not we sit there for a good one hour before crawling away at the speed of 20 km per hour. Nobody around us seems to have a clue of why the we halted for so long or why we were competing for the “slowest train in the world” competition.
Finally an announcement on the speaker system delivers us the great, but limited news that a train ahead of us has caught fire and broken down, period. We finally pass this so called train, and guess what ? it is sitting on the southbound track.
The only possibility here is they stopped all traffic around the distressed train for some safety period. I had assumed the problem was localized between that point and Durham, but we continued at the same snail pace even after passing it leading to more sighs and murmuring in the cabin.
Now after losing a good 1hr 40 minutes comes the next round of great but limited news on the public address system. It goes something like, “due to the delay this train will now terminate at Newcastle”.
Oh great, now you will understand what I mean by great but limited. Ok ! the train will terminate or do a full stop at Newcastle, we get that part. But we are booked to Edinburgh, how do we get there.
So we somehow get to Newcastle and look around for East coast staff to guide us. But like some preconceived drill not even one can be seen on the platform. An announcement is made of another train bound to Glasgow coming in after 20 minutes. Do we get onto the train ? what do we do ? we are helpless. I needed a cigarette badly and answers even more badly so I head out of the train station first and then to the main information counter. I show my ticket, repeat my situation and wait for instructions. “Yes, you board the next train”, is the reply. The third great, but limited news of the day, another Shakespearan tragedy in the making.
I head back to the platform, the next train arrives, and with it pandemonium. I get onto the nearest carriage, its packed to capacity. I walk a good two carriages slowly with all my luggage and am greeted with stare after stare. Some of my fellow passengers who innocently took seats are now vacating because the ticket holders have arrived. People talk of impropriety and chaos on train systems in Asia and other developing places. But this was the UK, a developed country with consumer rights and what have you. I finally found a carriage with some space near the door where I could drop my bags and sit on them. People going to the toilet or passing by watch me with interest, more stares follow. We reach Berwick where this train halts longer than I expected. My heart dreads of any more hiccups, so I engage a tough looking attendant on the platform through the open window, yes ! you heard right, an open window on a high speed train.
He calms me down, and gives me an estimate of 6 pm as this was a slow service with more stops. I rotate between standing near the door and and sitting on my belongings. The beaches around Berwick, the postcard greens littered with sheep, the winding views through hillocks are reduced to a passing spectacle.
Finally at just after 6 pm, we wheel into Edinburgh Waverly. The journey was a total robbery, they robbed me of my time, comfort and any positive memories. I hurried up the taxi ramp up to Waverley Bridge, crossed over and looked up.
The silhouette of the castle gleaming against the orange and red skyline brought a smile to my face, at least i was not robbed of my twilight view.
On my recent trip to Siem Reap, we did what most folks come here to do and is described in touristy publications as “templing”. After completing the Bayon temple early morning we reached Ta Phrom. The humidity and walking had left me fatigued and I appeared as if I had worn clothes directly after a shower. I didn’t share my guide’s enthusiasm or stamina, so we headed across to one of the many stalls lining the access road. We ordered a chilled sweet coconut for a dollar a piece and got comfortable on the dusty plastic stools. I was ambushed by many young children selling all kinds of knick-knacks. They all seem to have memorised one dialogue, “sir, only one dollar” and their technique was simple. Keep ranting the same dialogue at the customers table till they get fed up or felt pity into giving their greenbacks away. I tried to extract some details about the background and life of these children from my guide and owner of the stall. After waving off the flute, flower, book and bangle, I noticed a demure looking girl leaning on a wood pillar nearby. She walked slowly towards me, and I prepared myself for another round of frantic direct marketing. She quietly stood near my table, said nothing and starting eyeing my camera. I promised to buy some of her beads if she gave me a smile, and the result is this post: the girl with the starfish slippers.
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