The grating sound of metal on metal draws me from my half-asleep slumber. I think it is the neighbours opening up for breakfast preparations at their street frontage restaurant. But stillness and quiet descend and the outside world is at peace. And I am once again sleepless in Siem Reap.
I check the time and it is 1am. I am now fully alert, my brain running over the details of the day that has gone, the day ahead, the photos I forgot to send, the emails to respond to, the blog posts to write, stories to pitch, work to do and numerous other incidentals.
A rumbling motorbike roars past and fades into the distance. On nearby Wat Bo Road there’s the hum of a few cars passing, then again the world transcends into silence – or near silence. It never seems to get completely quiet here.
There’s the whirr of the fan overhead, shifting warm air over us. It comes in waves. It’s a hot and still night, tonight. A gentle snore from the Joker signals he is sleeping peacefully.
The purr of an idling motorbike outside our apartment block interrupts the quiet. But it is muted, almost as if it is apologising for the late night disturbance. It lasts a few minutes. There’s no sounds of voices, no squeak of the gate, no doors opening and then it rolls off into the distance.
The quiet falls again, like a blanket dropping over the world around us. But it is soon intercepted by barking dogs. One sounds like it has a problem with its throat – its bark is too deep and gruff and scratchy, like gravel and glass. After a few minutes they get bored with their quarrel and stop. It’s quiet again.
I roll over and close my eyes, thinking of sleep. But it doesn’t come. I’m still sleepless in Siem Reap.
A gecko off in the distance calls out its distinctive tokay, tokay, breaking the silence. I forget to count how many times – seven is apparently good luck.
The sound of a voice, muffled at first and then loud, almost a shout, as they pass by our place on a motorbike. The roar of the bike, almost following the sound of the voice. It’s likely a backpacker returning from a night out on Pub Street, giving directions to his moto-dop driver.
It’s repeated a few minutes later – probably another backpacker heading home late. The sound of the voices and motor bouncing off the walls of the buildings and echoing upwards, almost hanging in the still night air as they fade into the distance.
The hum of the fridge permeates our apartment and everything outside is still again. It’s strange this tranquility, in a place usually so vibrant. But wait, more voices. And a minute later more, both accompanied by the rumble of a motorbike engine. The sound echoing strangely, like voices in an empty building. Muted but echoing, bouncing around the landscape.
In the distance it sounds like a machine has started – like some kind of heavy equipment used for roadworks, but it is far off and to faint to distinguish.
Another gecko, the big tokay gecko, not the little ones that scuttle around our house, calls out. Again I forget to count how many calls it makes. It is closer than the last one and its call seems magnified in the quiet night.
Then the faint cries of a baby crying – the landlord’s baby is waking for a feed.
And silence returns. My eyelids are getting heavy. It is time to roll over. To close my eyes and hope that sleep arrives. Because I’m tired of being sleepless in Siem Reap.
Tamuria says
A beautifully written post – I felt like I was there with you, sharing the frustration of a sleepless night in a place you clearly love. I loved Siem Reap too when I visited a few years ago.
Sam Walker says
Hi Tamuria. Thanks for stopping by. And thank you for your kind words. I am a terrible sleeper and always have been. Last night I thought I should jot some words down.
Robin says
Well done! The details were just right; not too many or few. I could put myself there and see it happening.
Sam Walker says
Thank you Robin. It’s great to get the feedback. It’s not the normal style I use on the blog but it seemed to fit for this post. Have a good night – hopefully not sleepless…