Thankfully we don’t have such an early start today, leaving the hotel at 7.30 to travel north through the Cambodian countryside, driving through little villages, some of which only got electricity a couple of months ago. The rickety houses on stilts have hammocks hung below them so that families can escape in the shade from the scorching afternoon sun. The flat plains either side of the road are dotted with plantations of mangoes and jackfruit trees and we see schools with neatly dressed children starting classes for the day.

Our destination is the temple of Bantreay Srei, and Nak tells us that by 10am it will be full of tourists, but when we arrive we’re amongst the very first visitors of the day, and get to experience its splendours in the early morning light. Often referred to as the Painted Lady temple, or the Citadel of Women, its beautiful pink sandstone is delicately carved making it one of the most intricate and gorgeously decorated temples in the region, a real jewel in the crown of Angkor.

200 years older than Angkor Wat itself, the temple has hundreds of small, intricate figures and deities cut into the walls and lintels which depict scenes from the Hindu Mahabarat. Three rectangular enclosures make up the temple with the inner buildings comprising of a sanctuary and two libraries, but even here, an hour outside the main complex, the looting continued well into the 20th century.

Apparently one of the statues’ heads was chopped off and stolen by a French archaeologist in the 60s as a souvenir before war in south east Asia broke out. He was caught at the airport as he tried to smuggle it in his luggage and served a week in jail, but never told anyone back in France. Years later he returned and was appointed French minister of culture to Cambodia!!

Sure enough, as we leave the site we notice that the car park is now full of tourist buses with huge groups arriving to crowd the temple, and as we drive on, we see more and more traffic heading towards the Painted Lady. Thankfully, we’re still ahead of the crowds at our final destination, the incredible Bantreay Samre, which is a smaller prototype of Angkor Wat itself. There are just a handful of other visitors who soon disappear and we have the entire site to ourselves to explore.

It’s jaw-droppingly beautiful with elaborate carvings and tombs and we feel hugely privileged to walk around the deserted temples as though they’re our own private domain.

We’re back in Siem Reap by 11.30am and rather than get dropped at the hotel, we ask to be taken to a phone shop as I want to buy a case that can hang on a lanyard around my neck to enable me to take photos on the move when cycling later in northern Vietnam. So we wave goodbye to Nak and Jip by the side of the road and make our way from shop to shop trying to explain to bemused owners what I’m looking for with hand gestures.

Eventually we succeed, getting the perfect iPhone case for just $5, next door to a pharmacy which sells all sorts of things over the counter that you would need a prescription for back home. $20 procures a treasure trove of medication but leaves us with only enough cash for either lunch or a tuk tuk back to the hotel.

Lunch wins out as we discover a fabulous vegan café called The Source nearby which serves us the best coffee we’ve had since leaving the UK and two delicious sandwiches for the remaining $9, so we’re faced with a 20 minute walk in blistering sunshine to get us back to the Sokha.

However, the walk affords us the chance to stop off at the Wat Thom Mayut monastery close to our hotel which has a hugely colourful pagoda, as well as a grocery store which thankfully accepts credit cards and sells us bottles of cold beer to drink by the pool, at a fraction of the price of our hotel’s bar.

We do take tuk-tuks in the evenings though, keen to explore the sights of modern Siem Reap. An essential stop on any back-packer trip around South East Asia, Siem Reap boasts the prosaically named Pub Street which is rammed with bars, clubs and restaurants catering to tourists of every age, taste and income-level.

After our first day’s exploring we head there and wander up and down the neon-filled alleyways, checking out the markets and souvenir shops, avoiding the noisiest of bars and turning down the frequent offers of a “massage” from both men and women.

We eventually settle on the best-looking restaurant, called Design, and get a table on the balcony looking down at the hustle and bustle below. Drunk tourists and pickpockets alike fill the streets while cover bands blast our questionable versions of songs by the likes of Bruce Springsteen, Toto and Fleetwood Mac, even massacring Leonard Cohen’s sublime ‘Hallelujah’. It’s like Bourbon Street in New Orleans and is similarly hot and humid. Fortunately the veggie burgers and margaritas do the trick and we make our way back to the Sokha Angkor Resort sated and a lot more sober than the vast majority of the crowds.

The following night we get our hotel to secure us a table at one of the newest and most high-end restaurants in the city. It’s by the river and called Chantrey Tree. Seemingly taking its cue from Ibiza’s Bambuddha Grove, it’s a gorgeous looking spot, with outdoor seating amongst tinkling fountains, bamboo plants and ambient lighting.

So far, so good… but despite them greeting us as honoured guests on arrival and giving us their specially-designed vegetarian menu, which they talk through with great pride, we bite into the brilliantly presented dumplings only to get the unmistakable taste and texture of chicken. Let’s just say, they learnt some lessons that night in how to keep ‘honoured guests’ happy and are very unlikely to make the same mistake again!

Over the bridge from the restaurant is a night market, twinkling with illuminations, so we wander over to take look, spotting a remarkable painting on one of the stalls, done by a young Cambodian boy whose work raises funds for his family. They’re shutting up for the night but agree to stay open while we find a cashpoint and we’re soon owners of a striking, vividly impressionistic take on Cambodian village life.

As we weave our way back in a tuk-tuk, I keep a firm hold on the bewitching piece of art we’ve just bought. God alone knows how we’re going to get it home!