The magic of Siem Reap

Travelling from place to place, one hardly allows oneself to get attached. I did. I got attached to Siem Reap. Upon leaving it, I felt a strange heartache. The heartache of being severed from a location of love.

It must have been the hypnotising splendour of the Angkor Wat temples. A parallel universe where the sun always shines and the birds always sing to exhilarate the wanderer.

Or was it the beautiful stranger lying next to me in the massage salon close to the Old Market? We never spoke to each other. We only stared at each other's feet while they were being skilfully massaged by tiny animated hands.

And then there was Sok Ban. The owner of the tiny animated hands.
I couldn't get enough of her massages. And I couldn't get enough of her melancholic dark eyes.

One evening, on my way to the Angkor Palm restaurant, I dropped by the massage salon to say hi to Sok Ban.

"Where do you eat?", I asked her.
"I eat market.", she answered quickly, eyes looking down.
"Is it...good food?" What a dull question! How could I?!
"Good for me. No good for you. Restaurant good for you.", said Sok Ban with a modest smile and looked down again.

I wanted to kiss her, embrace her, marry her and give her the magic that she needed. I wanted to take her to restaurants, buy her dresses and treat her like a princess.
I am sure we were a best married couple in a previous life. Yet in this life I was more likely to marry the beautiful stranger with the handsome feet. If he ever spoke to me, that is.

I am writing this on a night bus from Siem Reap to Ha Tien. Since my pen and paper are squashed somewhere between cone straw hats and overripe baby bananas, I am writing this in my head. Engraving the words slowly into a mental whiteboard. My eyes are laden with sleep and my stomach cramped yet I find a strange comfort in this engravery. The strange heartache of severance is waning upon the blazing realisation that the location of love is only a stop on the grander itinerary of love.

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