Rain fell in thick drops on us and the temperature sat somewhere around 80ºF. A man stood with our name on a sign, greeted us with a smile and showed us to his tuk-tuk. His name was Rattan. He placed our bags on a covered seat in front of the vehicle and told us to sit in the back.
We sat, smiling and laughing as he drove us through town, past the river, out to where we could hear no more traffic and a little farther, down an alley to our hotel.
There, another man waited for us with an umbrella. He took my bag and showed us to a covered sitting place. Large yellow lanterns shaped like glowing lotuses sat delicately on the sturdy, dark wood beams.
Frogs sang around us and crickets too. The percussion of the rain tapped in every pool of water. Sopiet showed us the way, we dogged the streams of water falling off of the palms and made our way across the grounds. We finally arrived, excited but weary from travel and travelers’ sicknesses. The frogs kept singing and the crickets chirped on and slowly I drifted to sleep.
Early the next morning light came streaming from the window. Birds sang and chirped and crowed. I thought for a moment I heard an elephant. Wake up, this is Cambodia. Angkor awaits.