Siem Reap, Cambodia: That time I had a beer in a brothel

You know how every great travel story starts with "I probably shouldn't have…"? Yeah. This is one of those.

It all began in the pre-dawn hours in Siem Reap. I was heading out to meet Mr. Rhum (yes, that's his real name, and yes, he lives up to it) for a sunrise pilgrimage to Angkor Wat. As I stepped outside, I noticed a bar across the street I hadn't seen before. Quiet. Neon-lit. Suspiciously open. I mentally bookmarked it.

Fast forward to the next night: I was out on Pub Street and VW Bus Row drinking with a rowdy mix of Australians and French folks. It was the kind of night where you lose track of time, your tuk-tuk, and occasionally, your mind. Eventually, I found my ride, and on the way back, I remembered that mysterious bar.

Naturally, I went in. I walked straight to the counter, ordered a Budweiser, and started sipping. Ice cold. Perfect. The bartender gave me a look somewhere between confusion and concern. I didn't think much of it… until I finally looked around. The place looked like a retirement home had crashed into a high school prom. Old men. Young women. A "couple" descending from the upstairs like they'd just finished a very awkward Airbnb stay.

Oops. I'm in a whorehouse. But hey, the beer was already open.

At the end of the bar, a man was chatting with the bartender in a language I didn't recognize. I leaned over and joked, "Tell him I'm too expensive." She did. He frowned like I'd just insulted his grandmother's soup recipe. She came back, fist-bumped me, and handed me another Budweiser on the house. Mental note though, check to see if there's maybe a red light out front? Nah, what kind of story would that make?

I came for enlightenment at Angkor Wat, but found enlightenment in a brothel fridge.