The Case of the Missing Thongs
26 November 2010 Nine days we spent in Siem Reap. The Admiral room in the Aroma Daily guesthouse was beginning to feel like home. Especially, as the the establishment was a shoes off affair. Arriving back after sightseeing, dining, or cycling Jean and I would kick off our shoes at the entrance and leave them among the jumble of footwear on the front steps and then pad around the guesthouse barefoot. During our stay I noticed that my flip flops would periodically not be where I'd left them. I owed this to the hotel clerks' heroic effort to maintain order on the front steps. However, sometimes after peeping around the flower pots and intently studying each item of footwear on the porch I would not find my flip flops among the assemblage. I wasn't too bothered by this. They were nothing glamorous. A black, wedge-shaped $2 pair I had picked up in Sri Lanka to garden in. At first I had loathed them but after some breaking in they had grown on me. If I found them missing I...