Our internal clocks are so out of whack, not knowing if it’s night or day, Saturday or Monday (recall we lost Sunday), taking a nap just wasn’t going to happen.  The concierges recommended many things to see and do.  Though they pushed that we go to the Genocide Museum (nothing says Welcome to Cambodia like a stop at the Genocide Museum followed up with a quick jaunt over to the killing fields), we opted for a short walk to a pagoda close to our hotel. Called Wat Phnom, or Temple Hill, it is where Phnom Penh got its beginning.  The legend is that an old lady (Daun or Grandma) discovered some Buddhas inside a log there and decided that a hill with a pagoda should be on top of it and from that the city was born. Yeah, not sure I believe that one.  However, there is a hill and there is a temple built on top and we set out to see it.  This is when culture shock takes over and you realize that you actually are on the other side of the world.  It’s one thing to be at the Raffles being pampered and quite another to be walking around Phnom Penh getting an unfiltered view of the city, its people, and its way of life.  It ain’t like home.  Speaking of home, we had to pass the US Embassy to get to Grandma’s pagoda.  The building takes up an entire city square and a big one at that.  You are not allowed to take pictures of it, and I can only imagine why the US needs an embassy of that size in such a small country.  Actually, I can imagine, and I suspect it has something to do with proximity to the “C” country to the north.  Odd, but I digress.  

Back to Grandma’s pagoda…The pagoda is in a traffic circle and to get there you take your life in your hands hoping that you won’t get run over by the same modes of transportation we dodged in Pho’s van.  In Pho’s van, we had protection. Crossing the street you’re on your own.  It’s Grandma’s death trap.  Thanks, Grandma.  The best way to cross is to become part of the weaving and bobbing of the traffic flow.  Trust me, you learn that quickly.  Staying committed, hesitate and you’re dead, miraculously we make it to the other side.  Not a wonder all these people are there praying in the pagoda.  They’re thanking Buddha for allowing them to live after crossing the street.   Supremely jet lagged and not knowing what the heck we’re viewing, we looked a little like this guy perplexed at how his new toy works.  

At this time, we don’t have a clue about Hindu or Buddhist mythology (as of this writing we are near experts), so I took this photo of Lisa (people we just got off a 20 hour journey and she looks pretty good) in front of a seven headed Naga, the sea serpent that protects Vishnu in Hindu and in Buddhism, Buddha told Naga how to become a human in its next life.  Or something like that.  

We went about halfway around the circle and finally came across the stairway to Grandma’s pagoda.

We climbed the steps and the second thing we came across was this party going on with a barbecue, incense, and lots of people. 

Clueless about what we just saw, we climb some more steps and finally make it to the temple.  You have to take your shoes off to go in and I wonder if I’ll ever see my $150 sneakers again.  I will.  The temple is beautiful and full of gifts and money for whom I don’t really know.  The monks maybe?  Buddha? No idea. 

We walk around the temple, assume we are now blessed, exit, go back down the stairs, and catch a tuk-tuk to go find a French owned wine bar I read about called Bouchon.  We get dropped off, went in and had two glasses of wine and some delicious clams. The bill was just under $16.00.  I’m going to like Cambodia!! By the way, the currency is US dollars making life very easy for us gringos.

Back to the hotel for a quick rest and shower.  We decide to dine at the hotel since we were so tired.  The waitress asks if we want inside or outside and since it’s a gorgeous night, we say outside.  Still or sparkling water?  Sparkling.  Here’s how they serve it.

Not being terribly hungry, we ate a few appetizers, fine, nothing special, and were headed for the room.  HOWEVER, we passed The Elephant Bar and since Jackie Kennedy went there, we had to go, too.  Nightcap!  The Elephant Bar is as classy a bar as there is.  You feel the history of the place when you go in.  Imagine all the dignitaries, movie stars,  and prominent businesspeople who have stopped in (and still do) for a world changing conversation over a Mekong Gin dry martini. 

At this point, I’d like to say we’ve had a second wind, but no way.  Lisa has Jackie’s Femme Fatale and I have a house Negroni, which for some reason is a big deal in Cambodia.

Barely able to keep our eyes open, it’s now officially time for bed. We drag ourselves to the room and fall fast asleep.  It’s only 8:30pm PP time and Sunday is still nowhere to be found.