My schedule is completely off, so I’m up early once again. I have a trip to My Son scheduled for 8am, so I figure I may as well get some breakfast at the place across the street. On the way back, I spot Philippe, who tells me he’s moved into my guesthouse, after being visited by some unwelcome visitors of the 6-leg variety in his guesthouse the night previous. He’s also going on the My son trip, so we wait together for the bus, which arrives late.
En route, our guide, Spider, gives us a bit of a history of the temples we’ll be seeing – insisting that we can’t compare them to Angkor Wat, because they’re much older. He repeats himself a lot, so I eventually tune him out. At the temple, we have to switch to a minibus and head to the site. We get a rundown on the history, but it’s mostly the same thing we’ve already heard, and once again I tune him out.
We look around the temples, which are definitely nothing compared to Angkor Wat, and not even as impressive as Ayutthuya. John had warned us that it was pretty small, and he was right. After less than an hour, we head back to the bus to wait for the rest of the group, who isn’t far behind.
We’re dropped off near enough to the guesthouse, but we go looking for food first. I have fish wrapped in a banana leaf, which gets an enthusiastic response from the waitress when I order. After lunch, we decide we’ll rent some bikes, even though it looks like it could rain at any time. We get our stuff to head to the beach, and as we’re leaving the guesthouse the rain starts to pour. We stop at the internet cafe to kill some time while the rain dies down (if we’re gonna get wet, we want it to be in the sea.
We finally make our way to the beach, and spend a good hour or so in the water, trying to do some body surfing. When we get back to our stuff there’s a hawker selling her wares. I watched her sitting by our towels th entire time we were in the water. I buy some mentos, figuring she has had a slow day on account of the weather. We get hammered by some other hawkers after that, all complaining about the slow day. We order a pineapple each from two other hawkers, and then get accosted by another, who uses a lot of foul English idioms on us. “Tourists teach me.” She tells me. The bike ride home is nice, with the sun setting over the rice paddies. Sadly, I didn’t bring my camera to the beach. Possible theft trumps nice picture, this time.
We grab Vietnamese (go figure) for dinner, and since I have to be up for 6am, decide to call it a night after Philippe does some shopping for silk lanterns.
