He cackles incessantly with dark beady eyes. The thin black
tufts of hair on his chin shine in tainted spittle. His long pinkie talon jabs
menacingly deep grooves into a newly acquired map.
“I’ll take you to the temples” he promises. “Just meet me
here tomorrow, I’ll take you, show you how great Cambodia once was, seventy
dollars for a two day trip”. He’s a devil in disguise, and what am I but a
naïve little angel hanging onto his every word?
His name is Munny meaning ‘smart’. He’s a cool customer, a
Khmer possessing sharp English and an even sharper ride. His crumbling Honda is
forged to a quaint little carriage, complete with a soft cottoned seat and
wooden decked floor. He spent his whole life savings on it and boy isn’t he
proud.
“My ride - best in whole of Seam Reap” he informs. “Gives
you view of Angkor like no other”. But while Angkor is certainly spectacular,
it is for Munny which most of my awe is reserved. How can a man with so much
mischief in his eyes be trusted for a second, even be held responsible for a
life? Soon he would be put to the test.
He buries his beer cans under the carriage bench and with a
hazy glare kick starts his motor. First stop Preah Khan, a crumbled ruin of
Jayavarman II, great God-deity of Ancient Angkor and prolific temple builder.
As Munny weaves his way perilously between lorry tanker and shambling
pedestrian the Angkor beers gurgle restlessly in his belly. A loud burp is
emitted and more toxic fumes fill the air.
By now I should be taking in the calming blue waters of Angkor
Wat’s 190m wide gargantuan moat. By now I should be witnessing young Khmer boy’s
splashing around the luscious green riverbanks and laughing idly in the
stifling midday heat. But with Munny the picture is different.
He jabs a crusty finger in the direction of a baking
sandstone causeway where reams of captivated bodies shuffle onward into the
tractor beam of three lotus bud towers. “Want me to look after your bag?” he so
kindly offers. “Not yet, onward to Preah Khan” I utter meekly from the back.
The road alongside Angkor Wat is deeply unkind. Munny makes
it intolerable. Its pothole city alright and I’ve got myself the world’s
drunkest driver. With a thud Munny careens into a small crater and into the
path of an oncoming bus filled with Japanese tourists. Somehow with tremendous
effort he wrestles the wheels away from oncoming disaster.
Responsible travel anyone? Carbon emissions seem gravely
unimportant against the dangerous depravities of a human wrecking ball cum tour
guide.
