So there’s this hotel, perfect in every way save one. The setting’s magnificent; rooms spacious; beds are for dreams; breakfast scrumptious; pool, spa, health club state-of-the-art; all at a price that puts a motorway motel back home to shame.
No question, where I’ve fetched up for Khmer New Year is the best hotel in Siem Reap. It’s the best in Cambodia and that’s not best of a bad bunch. Like dentists, Cambodia does a line in top-flight hotels providing you don’t venture beyond Phnom Penh’s city walls or those of Siem Reap.
So what’s the snag here?
The staff are the snag. Are they rude? No. Surly? No. Inattentive? No, no and no again. Problem is - they’re too attentive.
Oh, those staff. I feel such a cad because, with their shining morning faces, they are so eager to offer their salutations; to enquire how one is; to pander to one’s least desire.
Morning faces? Afternoon and evening faces too. Every hour, every minute they shine at you, those faces, beaming with pleasure if their owners can be of the least service, gurning with unfulfilment if they can’t. From hidden alcoves they suddenly appear. From behind potted plants they glide out, accosting one with greetings and enquiries about how one is.
And how is one? One was fine, perfectly fine, on one’s way to breakfast, the pool or a glass of cool white wine (almost a tenth of the room price). Then, ambushed by attention and solicitousness, one is fine no longer. One wants those shining beaming faces to disappear back into the alcoves, glide back behind those potted plants, to leave one alone and - STFU!
I blame climate change myself.
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Wednesday, April 13, 2011
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