Advice #
I was advised by my host, Tomoyuki, that while it was alright to walk to the Pub Street during the day, if I was going out at night, I should take one of the Tuk-Tuk’s that are persistently stationed on the street outside the Guesthouse.
I asked him if it was unsafe. He gave me the same answer, about how Cambodia is a place that is generally safe. He mentioned their being feral dogs, and warning me of rabies. To a sane person, this should have been sufficient to deter this course of action, however I did not fear feral dogs. I asked him again, if it was just dogs that I needed to worry about, or if perhaps it was a metaphor, for the types of people I might encounter.
He insisted it was merely dogs, and so me, fearing not dogs, decided to set out towards Pub Street, after dark, and on foot.
The Walk #
The walk to Pub Street was definitely nicer during the day. As I set out, there was a Tuk Tuk driver who asked if I wanted a lift. I declined, saying that I’d walk, and he muttered something in Khmer at me. It sounded like a curse.
So, where was I going? The Butterfly Bar. I’d matched with a girl on Tinder, and she seemed cute, so I told her as much. She said that she was working tonight, so I asked her what she was doign? Bartender, or serving tables. I realized after asking that it was a silly question, but at the time, I didn’t understand why. She seemed confused, and I mentioned that I’d never actually been to Pub Street.
What I did know, from looking at Google Reviews, was that The Butterfly Bar was owned by the same people as The Smiling Bar. It’s located on Sok San Road, which was just off of Pub Street, and my journey took me past The Smiling Bar as I walked. What I saw were pretty, young girls, displaying themselves prominently near the entrance.
Once I got to The Butterfly Bar, the sight I was treated to was much the same. I found the girl I matched with, and said Hello, asking how things worked. I was told that to buy me a drink, it was $1, and to buy a girl a drink, it was $3.50.
It didn’t seem like my kind of place, so I took a walk.
Temple #
Back to Pub Street it was. I’d seen a lot of really cool looking places here along the way - dance clubs lit the fuck up, and that’s precisely my kind of jam.
The choice for the night was Temple, and I danced all along the main floor. They had what looked to be four different DJ’s in the booth, and a large amount of tables - that’s how dance clubs are in Asia, it’s tables in almost all of them. I weaved around the floor, dancing, and trying to catch a vibe. A vibe it most certainly was.
I went up the 2nd floor, and it’s there that the troubles started… Because I started drinking, and by started, I mean resumed, because I had already downed two bottles of sake before setting out.
But that didn’t cause any problems yet, because the 2nd floor was Lit. They had hanging lamps and mirrors to pose with for picturse, and a whole other stage, with a whole other set of DJ’s, and a whole room full of tables, and dancing.
This place is fucking massive.
I drank, and I danced for a bit more. I don’t know how mmuch I drank. If it was one beer, or two beers. One I know was Carlsberg, because when I pointed at the tap for Angkor, I got Carlsberg instead, and it was slightly more expensive, at $1.50 USD, instead of the $1 I paid for the Angkor. To be conscious of that distinction, I must have already ordered an Angkor, before getting to the Carlsberg. And I know that Carlsberg wasn’t my last, so, if I had to count, I’d argue 3 beers in total were consumed.
Why does this matter? It doesn’t, yet, because this was place was a lot of fun. There were DJ’s, and Music, and Dancing, and a lot of happy people. It was a good vibe, and a good time.
I bounced around between the first and 2nd floors a couple of times, as well as moving onto the third. The third was on the roof - and it wasn’t even raining, so it was actually quite nice. There was music, and planks to walk accross what looked to be a small pool. And there were foosball tables. I played a few games, teaming up with a local girl, each handling two of the rods, versus a rotating cast of characters. It was a fun time. The people were good, and the times we had were wholesome.
Tuk Tuk #
This is the part of the story where things start to get a bit hazy. It was around 4 AM, and I decided that it was time to leave. I was also now 3 beers deep, and feeling it, in addition to the Soju I drank earlier.
I walked, to get there, and that was actually a problem. Going back to the beginning, and the advice I was given, and also the first trip that I made to the guesthouse, where I felt taken advantage of… That man offered to give me his phone number. Had I taken a Tuk Tuk to go out this night, then my driver would likely have offered me the same.
At this point, however, I still do not have a working phone, and so the utility of it amounted to providing me access to the offline map I’d downloaded of Siam Reap. Useful, but quite disconnected.
These are lessons learned, because I don’t actually know what metrics I Used in accepting the ride from this person. I also have no idea of the origins of the woman I shared the trip with. I call her a woman, because she identified as such, and also she had breasts. It seemed legit to me.
Miraculously, this enterougue actually landed me back at the Guesthouse. It was at this point, at the gate, where the woman managed to convince me to instead go with her back to her place. I remember asking her “Am I going to regret this?”.
Her place was, coincidentally, right back where we’d come from, and so we set off.
We arrived back at Sok San Road, and, coincidentally, the trip wound up costing me all of the cash I had on hand. It wasn’t a lot of money - I went out with $10 USD, and I bought maybe 3 beers. That’d leave me with ~$6.50. It’s not a lot to lose, but it’s something of a pattern in this place.
Room 102 #
The Tuk Tuk driver asked if I wanted to buy some coke, at $35-40 a gram, but I declined.
We walked in to a vast reception area, with nobody around. She called out what sounded like a name, many times, but there was no reply. I looked at my phone, and saw it was 4:22 AM, and suggested that everyone had gone to bed. She told me to grab the key for room 102, hanging behind the security desk, so I did. We walked upstairs, to room 102.
There were a lot of firsts that went on in that room. It was my first time with a ladyboy, which was definitely an experience. I wouldn’t call it gay, because no balls touched (at all; she was quite careful to ensure I never actually perceived the presence of what were presumably male genitalia), and because she had breasts. They were implants, as opposed to the sort you might find grown hormonally, which was also a first experience for me. They felt different from any other breasts I’ve come across - very firm, as opposed to the squishy wonderfulness that I’m used to.
I also ate ass. That wasn’t quite a first - I’ve actually tried eating ass before, but in that instance it was quite unexpected, and she tried to squirm away. This was different. This was an invitation, and I accepted.
It was an experience.
The Morning After #
I woke up to what sounded like knocks on the door, and assertive voices, however they came from off in the distance.
It was around this point that I put on my clothes.
I asked about the voices, wondering what they were about. The answer was that they were out to collect payments for the room. I asked her how much, and she said $15 USD. I asked if that’s what she needed, and she said no. She wanted $30 USD.
It was around this point that I realized my phone was not in my pocket.
It was at precisely this point that the situation started to feel scary. I very nervously searched around, trying to find it, however it was then made clear that this was extortion. I’d get the phone back when I paid her $30 USD.
This was a problem, because I had all of $90 CAD in my bank account, and when you factored in the 20,000 Real ($5 USD) fee on the ATM, and the $5 CAD foreign withdrawal fee from my own bank, and the weak exchange rate of the Canadian Dollar, I only knew myself to have $40 USD available to withdraw.
It was at this point that I started to get hysterical. Here I was again, in a situation where it was presumeed I was rich, and ripe pickings to be taken advantage of, when in reality, I was doing workaways for a free room, and having just spent a substantial amount of my cash on unexpected lodging, travel, and repairs for my guitar.
Meaning, I couldn’t afford another unexpected $30 USD expense, and still be able to eat.
I kept asking for my phone, saying that I didn’t know if I would be able to pull out enough, but that I would if I could check my phone, and see if I had a reply from the plea I’d made the night before, asking for help. This was half-true, because in reality, my phone did not have data, and having it wouldn’t meaningfully change my calculus, in that moment.
I told her I’d pull out the money, but that I needed my phone to know if I could do it. She was nonetheless intent on keeping some form of collateral, to ensure I’d come back, and she eyed up the vape I was nervously hitting. Clearly, it was important to me, and so I agreed to give it to her to hold, in exchange for getting my phone back; to be returned to me when I came back with the cash.
The thing is, while I had paid $420 CAD for my phone, that vape, though nice, was only worth 95 Malaysian Ringgits… Roughly $30 CAD. Meaning, that the item she now possessed for collateral was worth less than the debt it was being held for.
The Long Walk #
I left to go the ATM, which I actually did do, however I had no intention of going back. I needed that money for food, and for a reasonably priced SIM card, and for Tuk Tuk drivers I actually got to know, collected numbers from, and could go to with the expectation of being treated fairly.
There were many lessons learned. One of those lessons is to be very careful allowing oneself to be tipsy on Pub Street. My experience was not what I’d call uncommon, although perhaps different from the many other scenarios one might find themselves falling into.
Another lesson was the importance of Friendship. Of Trust. Of surrounding yourself with people that, in the event you are inebriated, or otherwise operating at a reduced level of consciousness, you will be taken good care of, instead of seen as a mark to be used.
I walked away from this experience feeling traumatized, however it’s not our experiences that come to define us, but rather our interpretation of them. Good things can come of bad days, and sometimes more good than one might ever imagine.
In my case, having worked through the trauma, I’ve found myself to have softened to a large swathe of people who I was previously closed off to. I’d been so used to being self-reliant, insistent that I depend on no-one but myself, and in fact I didn’t drink. Perhaps a part of why is that I didn’t feel safe to do so, despite being in good, honest, Canadian company.
It’s remarkable, how much my perspective has begun to shift, beieng immersed in a culture with a wildly different set of values than the ones that have surrounded me, for the past seven years, and which I perhaps had not just taken for granted, but also not truly have embodied. I say that I felt taken advantage of, in some of these moments, and yet when I look back a couple of years, I can see myself doing some of the very same things that lead me to find some of these characters untrustworthy.
Springing a price upon a client after the work has already been performed is one that comes to mind.