Atauro, East Timor

It was all neatly planned. We arrived at Darwin airport well ahead of time to check in to our 6.30 am flight to Dili. There was no queue, and ample staff to assist us. And then they started whispering: "have you told them about the downgrade?" "Oh, yes, the downgrade". It was like the Monty Python scene where they're all talking about the comfy chair. So we were told about the downgrade - we'd have to re-pack our hand luggage to a maximum of 4kg because the plane had been changed from a passenger jet to a competitive entry in this year's bird man competition. No big deal, the flight time would just be 15 or 20 minutes slower. Oh, and the flight was split in two, and we were on the later flight, leaving two hours late. Enjoy your flight.

We doth protesteth vociferously. We had a dude organised to meet us at Dili Airport and take us directly to the ferry (which they were already delaying an hour for us) and thence to Atauro Island where our accommodation was. An extra two hours might have tested the patience of the other ferry customers, we thought. We told Air North of our predicament, namely that we had arranged a connection on the basis that we would be on the flight that we had booked. They suggested that we couldn't get on the earlier flight because we hadn't told them about our connection. Presumably the expectation was that we should have anticipated that the flight would be split in two and should therefore have preemptively informed them that we would need to be on the earlier flight because of our ferry connection. K had forgotten to do this, so we were somewhat stuck.

When we threatened (with honest intention) to cancel our flight and request a refund, a couple of seats came available on the earlier flight. So we were the bastards who ruined someone else's trip. Sorry. We felt dirty.

Our Meeting-Us-At-The-Airport dude from the ferry/diving company hadn't gone to the trouble of writing a sign so that we would recognise him, he just memorised my name. Or made up my name. I didn't answer to 'Richard', though it be a nice name, so we stood around becoming agitated and anxious. After some short delay, K thought that perhaps the tanned white Australian guy who looked like a diver was probably the Australian guy who ran the diving company. So we asked the fellow if he knew who ran the ferry; he did. So off we putted in his old ute, exchanging life stories, and caught the ferry. Neatly planned.

The place we stayed at was a beach-side cluster of huts run by another former Australian fellow called Barry. He called it Barry's Place. It was an excellent basic place, with beds, mosquito nets, hammocks and food. We spent most of our hours there just reading our books, lazing about, eating and sleeping. Our extravagant excursions included walking along the beach, dabbling in snorkeling, making a spectacle of ourselves at the market (where smoked fish was de jour), walking up the hill to a bar that served coffee and cocktails, and tuk-tuking to a doll-making factory shop, which was closed for Easter.

Four restful days later, we caught a boat back to Dili, passing beautiful dolphins and a couple of whales on the way. Back in Dili the boat owner gave us a short tour around the surprisingly small city centre, past Parliament, the University, the (apparently only) shopping centre and the markets. She also told us about her history with Dili when her family was forced out of the country in 1999 after her father was hacked across the chest with a machete. Shit's still real.

Out at the airport we tried to check in early, but the guy told us we needed to come back in half an hour. As we left the tiny airport building, he locked the door behind us and didn't open it again for another hour and a half. Champ.

Cambodge

Living in Darwin has some advantages, not least the proximity to South East Asia. To take advantage of the Australia Day long weekend, we took a couple of days either side and flew off to Cambodia for a short trip, via Singapore Airport. I mention Singapore Airport because it feels rather like a holiday in itself. It's like a real city all of its own - trains, restaurants, outdoor gardens, swimming pools, free movies, free massages. What a boon.

With just a few days away, we only had time to visit Siem Reap and the surrounding temples. On arrival we expected to be swamped by touts and bullied into a taxi, driven in circles around the small city, and charged an outlandish price that we would subsequently discover was five times the going rate. Instead there was a flat price, well-organised rank, and a driver keen to go the direct route (while spending the majority of the trip trying to sell himself as an excellent guide and photographer for our inevitable trip to Angkor Wat and its temple buddies. We demurred).

That evening we wandered blindly into the centre of town with no map and no clue, but found a beautiful vegetarian restaurant that we had looked up earlier, Chamkar, in a vibrant laneway filled with neat and (relatively) cheap restaurants. We ate like people who had just flown on a budget airline with no food, and it was delicious.

The next day we immediately didn't go out to the temples, but pottered about the town, visiting the markets, a yoga-cafe (where we arrived too late to do the class, but in plenty of time to again eat like gluttons), along the river to the royal residence, via the Foreign Correspondents Club (shandy!) and back to our accommodation. It was a general food, sleep, TV and acclimatisation day.

At 4.30 am the following morning, our alarm woke us rather sharply. Overcoming the immense urge to just go back to sleep and 'figure it out later', we dragged ourselves up, trudged down the road to a shop that rented bicycles ($1.50 a day, including water), and cycled the 7 or 8km out to Angkor Wat to watch the sunrise:

We also watched other people watching the sunrise at Angkor Wat:

Then we watched the people watching themselves watching the sunrise at Angkor Wat:

After Angkor Wat, we cycled down the road to Bayon and Angkor Thom, the slightly lesser known cousins of Angkor Wat, but still major temple complexes in their own right, then looped on back into town by early afternoon.

Having bought a three-day temple pass, we were anxious to get back out there and see some of the other temples in the big ol' temple complex. But instead we had another day off. There was much reading to be done, markets to visit and food to eat. We even tried out 'vegan' on a street food seller, and won. We found a bookshop selling Collins Classics for $3.50 a pop. Some American tourists found the place too, and endeared themselves to the shop assistants by holding up a book and yelling "English?", presumably as a question. Apparently the woman's wee nephew collected The Little Prince in all languages of the world, but the bookshop didn't have it in "Cambodian", which was quite disappointing.

While cycling to the temples had its joys, getting a tuk-tuk out the following day was also quite fun, and a lot less strenuous. We hired a dude and his slow and spluttering vehicle and sorted an itinerary for the day. First we revisited Bayon because it was far too busy the previous time, and it was very cool:

We then went on to a couple of the incredibly-amazing, but less-incredibly-amazing-than-some-of-the-other-temples temples, and tuk-tuked back to the town. It was our last night in Siem Reap, so we returned to the lovely Chamkar restaurant, stretching to a starter, two mains, a dessert, a bottle of wine and some mineral water, all for under $40. (Anyone who's been to Cambodia will marvel that we managed to spend that much in one go, but it's a wonderful feeling to have a huge blow-out and still not lose much dosh).

If you've been counting, you'll know that we still had a day left on our three-day temple pass, so on the day we were leaving we tuk-tuked out there again to have a look at another of the better known temples that we hadn't seen previously, Ta Prohm. It was another beauty, but in need of some repairs. It's somewhat known for its 'trees growing through temple walls' photo opportunities, and also somewhat known for the fact that Tomb Raider was filmed there. Thankfully they had resisted any tacky scenes-from-the-film type merchandising, so I just have photos of trees in walls. See, a tree in a wall:

So that was Cambodge for us. Short, sharp and shiny, but happy times had by all. I reckon we'll be keen to head back to that part of the world to see what other non-temple activities there may be. Although I shan't be zip-lining with the gibbons - I just don't think the gibbons would like it.