Eat Tarantulas and Scorpions

Having already eaten rat in Battambang, it had become clear that Cambodia was the place to tick off some of our foody challenges: Gabe insisted we eat scorpions whilst Owen (ever the conscientious vegan) challenged us to eat tarantulas. We managed to complete both in Siem Reap, to different levels of success, but it was the Cambodian alcohol which proved the most challenging of all.

Jonny and I had already stumbled upon some Asian eccentricities (Tesco cooking oil sold proudly as UK hair-care; siamese twin bananas) but nothing could prepare us for Wrestler Wine.

Yes, you read that correctly. Wrestler. Wine. A drink one associates with sophistication, what flavours are carefully selected to accompany your chateaubriand or your fillet of sea bass; paired with a farce-turned-sport where oiled beasts throw each other round in a ring rigged with step-ladders and knuckle-dusters. The dark-skinned, glistening sportsman who took the place of a conventional vinyard’s crest on the front of the bottle looked more like a strung-up Peking duck than a respectable wine connoisseur.

Obviously, we had to buy it. After all, at $1.50 per 750ml bottle, it was a bargain… if you ignore the fact that this 20% proof mud-brown liquid was sold as white wine.

We were not so hopeful as to expect a cork, but were taken aback to find that this already suspect bottle did not even sport a screw-top. We pulled off the loose-fitting cap and poured ourselves a cup each, to be enjoyed whilst playing a game we made up especially for the occasion. This involved making spontaneous 1 minute pitches to sell items or ideas formed by putting two random words together, such as barnacle operas, promiscuous letter-boxes or, indeed, wrestler wine.

You’re probably wondering what this devilish concoction tasted like. Imagine opening a giant can of Red Bull and leaving it out in the sun for a week until it’s flat, warm and half the water has drained off. Hardly the painstaking fermentation process of grape to barrel to bottle of wine, but never mind. We got through half of the bottle with a Coca-Cola mixer before deciding that enough was enough.

With alcohol and probably-caffeine-but-who-knows-what running through our veins, we found a stall selling tarantulas. We only wanted to spend $1 but the enthusiastic boy selling these Cambodian delicacies insisted on $2. After all, he exclaimed proudly, “is more because spider has eggs in belly!” Wonderful. Jonny did some pretty neat haggling which involved us getting a handful of free crickets with our spider, and we took our tasty meal to polish off over a $1.50 whisky sour cocktail, leaving us to surmise that we should probably avoid alcohol being sold for $1.50. In fact, we much preferred our bag of critters.

The tarantula was a bit daunting at first, but was so thoroughly dried that it barely tasted of anything beyond its marmitey seasoning, and the crickets were actually quite a tasty snack. I was also pleased to find that we’d been conned by the boy, as we could not discernibly taste any spider eggs upon chomping into the furry beast’s abdomen.

After our feast, we challenged each other to spend a maximum of $3 at the night market, where we had to buy our partner an outfit to wear for the remainder of the evening. Jonny somehow managed to pull off his Tin-Tin-meets-the-Pink-Ladies costume extravaganza, where I was left with watermelon shorts that wouldn’t fit a chocolate-deprived oompa-loompa.

Fortunately, after waddling back to the shorts-stand with naught but a bumbag to protect my modesty, the lady allowed me to swap them with a better fitting, albeit uglier pair. Sporting our fabulous new outfits, we head off to the local club, where Jonny received a large helping of attention from some Cambodian gentlemen. We’ll leave it to you to decide who “won” the challenge.

The following day, we were wrestling with a small hangover (hoho) when Jonny turned on his phone to discover some brilliant news: unbeknownst to us, Greg and Megan had arrived in Siem Reap and were running amok through the night market calling our names!

Flat One reunited over a pizza and a beer, followed by (to Megan’s horror) a trip to the critter stand for a scorpion each. Despite initial hesitation, and after a semi-pornographic scorpion photo shoot, we all tucked in. It was nasty. As Megan pointed out, the exoskeleton was “the wrong kind of crunchy” and it left indigestible shards in our teeth. We hope, Gabe, you consider this a completed challenge even if we threw half into the river (we made sure we ate at least one bit of everything: leg, body, fang, etc).

The challenges end there, but I would be amiss not to mention what a fun couple of days we spent as a four. We travelled around Angkor Watt in a tuk-tuk, stopping off at any temple which looked like a good spot for hide-and-seek (much to the annoyance of some rather austere looking guards), and we enjoyed a riproarious night out, involving more mystery-alcohol, strangely religious themed face-paint/ dancing in a bar named YOLO and a cheeky little girl who sat on our laps and decided to hold Greg’s phone hostage until we accepted she was our leader.

We parted ways a couple of days later, but it was so lovely to spend a few days with friends; thank you, Greg and Megan, for completing a challenge with us!