Ten Postcards for a Dollar
We were torn about how much time to spend touring Angkor Wat. There are definite advantages of taking it slow, but in the end we made the right decision for us. We bought a three-day pass, but only used it for two days. Honestly, we probably could have seen everything we saw in a day, but spreading it out over two days allowed us to not rush and take a ride out to one of the temples that is further away (Banteay Srei). We had somewhat of a limited timeframe in Cambodia, and spending less time at Angkor Wat allowed us to add in a stop to Battambang. We had no desire to spend more time in Siem Reap; as far as I’m concerned, its only redeeming quality is the passion fruit pastries at Blue Pumpkin. As far as Angkor Wat itself, we liked seeing the ancient ruins, but neither of us are enthusiasts of ancient history and were happy with what we got to see in two days.
Another factor of why we chose to limit our time at Angkor Wat was because the experience was a bit frustrating at times. We tried to time our visits to minimize chances of huge crowds (and admittedly, spreading out our time would have allowed us to do this even more), but we were there at the height of high season and all of the strategies in the world wasn’t going to change the fact that there were just an awful lot of people trying to look at the same things we were trying to look at. The ruins at Angkor are majestic and grand and amazing, especially if you consider people carved them by hand, but the actual experience of looking at them in January 2011? Sean doesn’t agree with me, but I may have enjoyed our time peacefully riding around Sukhothai more.
We’re used to people trying to sell us stuff overandoverandover, but the vendors at Angkor Wat take it to a whole new level. At the Taj Mahal, for instance, people hassle you at the door, and with exception of a guy or two suggesting that you should give him some rupees because of his previous suggestion that you might get a nice reflection of Taj if you take a photo right here, you essentially are left alone until you leave. But at the temples of Angkor, you have to go through the hassling at every single stop you make. It got to the point where I didn’t want our driver (we rented a tuk-tuk to get around) to stop at any of the minor temples because I just didn’t feel like running the gauntlet of people trying to sell me crap I didn’t want or need. We subscribe to the philosophy of killing them with kindness, and always kept our cool despite wanting to scream PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE, but nothing stopped the barrage of sales tactics besides getting deep enough into the temple such that the person wouldn’t follow you anymore. Except then there’d be a little girl, no more than four, coming at you from around the corner, after being sent over by her mother keeping a watchful eye from afar.
It is no secret that the children in Siem Reap are the hardest to resist. It is one thing to tell an adult no rather brusquely for the tenth time in a row; it is another to do that to a child. We tried striking up a conversation about something other than the postcards or water or books that they are trying to sell you, but these children are onto to such tactics. Some, especially the younger ones, could be swayed, especially if you could figure out a question that wasn’t part of their script, but many were determined to stay on track. You see, they’ve been trained to handle diversionary tactics. They’ll tell you their name, they’ll count from one to ten in English, they’ll tell you your president is Barack Obama and his daughters are Sasha and Malia, they’ll tell you they learned such facts in school, and they’ll tell you they already are done with school for the day. And as soon as they finish with their encyclopedic knowledge of your country, they’ll jump right back into their spiel: so, you buy some postcards, mister? Only ten for a dollar!
One group of little girls followed us for quite a way, well after we tried striking up a conversation and well after we told them firmly that we were not going to buy anything. There were only two originally, but as we walked towards the bathrooms, two others joined in. When I came out of the bathroom, Sean was sitting on a bench, waiting for me, while the group of girls stood as far as they were allowed to go, holding out postcards towards Sean, chanting ten postcards for a dollar, ten postcards for a dollar in deadened, flat voices that sounded like zombies.
I was tempted to grab Sean and run away. Enough is enough; we were not going to buy the stupid postcards, no matter how persistent they were. But it breaks my heart to see children reduced to nothing more than salespeople by manipulative adults. So, I continued chatting with the girls, told them again we weren’t going to buy any postcards, and asked them if they would like to have their picture taken with me, which at least got them to snap out of the zombie act and crack small smiles. But, of course, seconds after showing the girls their picture on my camera, they were back to ten postcards for a dollar, at least with a little more liveliness this time.
Your description really fits the photo. You can still see your weariness of an imminent zombie attack.