MY CAMBODIA ME TOO MOMENT

I spent the morning being blessed by a Buddhist monk and was feeling pretty darn good about life. My compassion was overflowing. I felt calm and centered, relaxed and at peace with myself.

Barely 11am, the entire afternoon spread out before me like a blank canvas, ready to be colored with my newfound sense of mindfulness. The question wasn’t what wonderful feeling of connection I would foster throughout the remainder of my day. That was a foregone conclusion. The real question was just how Earth-shattering and life-altering it would be.

I figured what better way to follow-up my water blessing than with an awkward sexual encounter with a poor Cambodian girl.

Actually, wait.

Let me back up a bit.

I did not plan for a weird sexual situation as part of my afternoon. It just turned out that way.

Templed Out in Siem Reap

I had been in Siem Reap, Cambodia’s number one tourist town and base of exploration for the nearby temples of Angkor for the past few days. I was trying to avoid ‘temple burnout’, so today was reserved for other activities.

The Buddhist water blessing occupied my morning. Other than dinner I didn’t really have anything else planned. Something to eat followed by a nap seemed like a reasonable start.

After waking I took to the midday streets for a wander. Most visitors were out at Angkor for the day, so things were pretty quiet.

I walked past a massage shop where I had an amazing foot massage on my first evening in town. “Foot” in this case meant standard nail work, toe popping, scrubbing and plenty of hot, bubbly water.

It was glorious.

I thought we were finished, but the young attendant told me to lay face down in my fake leather recliner.

Eventually this guy took to my back — he literally stood on my back. A chiropractor he was not, but at least he was skinny.

Verdict — it felt spectacular.

It was these thoughts which filtered through my mind as I walked the midday heat of Cambodia’s third-largest city.

So why didn’t I go back to the original place, you logically ask? Well, my chiropractor-in-training said something about his wages and hours during our outing that made me feel slightly uncomfortable. Almost like he was buttering me up for an extra-large tip or something else.

Note — mistake number one; I should have gone in.

But I didn’t.

I kept walking.

A couple blocks later I came across a nice establishment sat on a corner. I gave the place a walk-by or two, inspected the crowd inside and browsed the menu on the window.

Note — mistake number two; looks can be deceiving.

I went in and asked for a foot massage.

A friendly middle-aged woman summoned me to an empty station at the back of the room. Two or three other patrons sat in extra-large massaging chairs as I kicked off my sandals and settled in.

Yes, first time in Cambodia, enjoying it, from America, blah, blah, blah.

My feet were tickled, my nails trimmed, my calves massaged. Everything went smoothly.

I gave my attendant a tip and settled up at the desk.

“Would you like full body massage?”

Note — mistake number three; don’t get greedy.

I thought for a moment.

Was there a price in writing on the menu? Indeed. It certainly didn’t appear to be a scam.

And I could go for a full body massage. It’s like the guy was reading my mind!

“Sure.”

“Okay, you go upstairs.”

Soon I was following a dark-skinned girl up a flight of steps at the back of the room. She opened a wooden door and led me in to what appeared to be a room divided up into several individualized massage compartments. The dividers were basic — like big sheets hung floor to ceiling.

Into the first compartment I went.

My Cambodia Me Too Moment

Know that motion people make when they want someone to take their clothes off? It’s about as universal as “Shhh” or a thumbs up; there’s no mistaking it.

So I took my clothes off.

I laid down on a relatively thin floor mat and tried to get comfortable on a not-fluffy-enough pillow. The girl draped a thin sheet over my back.

And then my full body massage began.

From the outset it was obvious this young lady was less than qualified as a masseuse. She didn’t hold a candle to my back-walking friend from the other night, that’s for certain. All in all it was rather uninspiring.

But she carried on. For the price I wasn’t about to complain.

Sit up. My shoulders were unenthusiastically massaged. Lay down on back. Cue chest massage.

By this point the sheet had been discarded. I didn’t appear to be, ahem, interested in anything further, know what I’m saying?

So color me surprised when she gave me a feel.

My heart skipped a few beats. I was now smack dab in the middle of my own Cambodia Me Too experience.

And I was almost too shocked to say anything. Almost.

“No.”

That seemed to end the below the belt activities.

My massage continued.

Chest again. 

Ugh. I’m skinny. There is no such thing as a chest massage for a skinny man. It’s like you’re massaging my rib cage. And a rib massage doesn’t feel all that wonderful.

So I wasn’t exactly loving this whole massage experience.

It was about this period, while ruminating over my decision-making, during which I overheard vocal evidence of other people in the massage room. Namely one man and two women.

A Questionable Massage Parlor

There was some giggling from the girls and your standard dumb remarks from an English-accented guy. Typical from a dopey traveler that actively seeks out this sort of stuff, I thought.

The soundtrack cemented the idea that I was not simply dealing with a rogue masseuse. I was in that kind of place.

And I wanted out.

But I didn’t want to be rude.

After all, the girl was a human being. She was probably desperately poor, just looking to earn a few bucks.

In fact, I felt bad for her.

We went through the whole lackluster massage routine in reverse until I once again wound up on my back.

And guess what?

I don’t even have to write the next line.

I immediately felt awful for every woman on planet Earth who has ever dealt with a pushy man who wouldn’t take no for an answer.

You have my eternal sympathy.

Seriously, no means no, right?

At that point I called the whole massage off. I cited an appointment and pointed to my watch — the only one of my possessions which wasn’t folded in a pile beside the mat.

In spite of the upstairs antics I tipped my masseuse, paid my bill and stepped into the midday sun of Siem Reap.

The compassion, calm and mindfulness which enveloped me earlier in the day had vanished. My mind raced.

Had I just been sexually assaulted?!

I felt icky.

I began to walk up the block.

What would I do with the rest of my day? My previously blank canvas was no longer quite so empty…

DO IT YOURSELF

Don’t!

Massage Tips

In order to avoid starring in your very own Cambodia Me Too moment, first and foremost, follow your gut.

Unless you go solely based off of Trip Advisor or a guesthouse recommendation, it can be difficult to suss out an above-board establishment from those which engage in practices like those described above.

As I recapped my mistakes in the story, there were certainly warning signs. I just happened to ignore them!

Basically, foot massages are a dime a dozen across most of Southeast Asia. If you’re looking for a full body massage or a real spa experience, call up a review site or ask a fellow traveler.

For a local take on the Cambodian massage scene, check out the real price of a cheap massage.

Sex Tourism

Along the same lines, sex tourism is rampant across Cambodia. It is heartbreaking and disgusting. If you spend any amount of time here you will notice it. From creepy offers whispered in the dusk of Siem Reap to the teenage girls lined up outside bars in Phnom Penh, this is a serious and ongoing problem.

What Can You Do?

Do your best to be an informed traveler. Patronize reputable establishments and encourage others to do the same. Don’t take advantage of locals in desperate situations. Watch a documentary, learn something.