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Prologue
THE TENSIONS of the day quickly melted away as the young petite masseuse placed her tiny firm hands across my shoulder blades. She started working them with an assertion of strength not expected for someone so petite. Her hands felt hot as they pressed hard against my skin in perfect symmetry and calculation. I could hear her short laboured breaths as she worked my muscles. The room was almost totally dark aside from the soft ambience of a few candles. Soft music played in the background, soft enough to still hear the peels of thunder from the big storm that was now passing, though having done little to relieve the fierce humidity of the tropical day.
She briefly stopped to pour more spicy massage oil on her hands before rubbing my back working hard down its length with assured rhythm and laboured breathing. She was close enough for her long hair to tickle my shoulder.
Nothing beats a Khmer massage to ease away the tensions of a physically and emotionally exhausting day’s travel in Phnom Penh. As a stopover about half way through my tour of South East Asia, I had arrived in Phnom Penh yesterday not having any idea of what to expect. After all Phnom Penh was a city. I was a wilderness traveller and consider any city to be the same as any other city on the planet. I had arrived with preconceived ideas that just like any other city there would be nothing here of any great interest.
How wrong I had been.
This is the account of the past day which had been the most eye opening day of my travels ever.
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