Say Wat Again...

At first, crossing the transparent border that separates Vietnam from Cambodia feels like a seamless transition between two countries cut from the same cloth. Our boat meanders a course against currents of Mekong River that have migrated all the way from Tibet, passing similar tropical landscapes thriving in the moist heat and familiar figures crowned in conical straw hats. But, as we travel inland, subtle threads of difference start unraveling.

By the time we've reached the capital, Phnom Penh, it's obvious that, while Cambodia shares the same staple ingredients as its Asean neighbour, it arrives at an altogether different flavour. The architecture of the stilted houses is more decorative. There's less urgency and suicidal tendency on the streets. And, the previously frowning faces of locals have upturned into affable smiles.

We're staying on the riverside where two waterways collide - dissecting a flat skinned skyline pierced by the pointed spires of Budhist temples. It's difficult to appreciate, in between sweating, during the searing heat of the day. But, they say it changes when the sun goes down...

The good
At dusk, the community converges on oases of open space by the river bank and in front of the Royal Palace. A furious red sun gently falls asleep behind ornate silhouettes - while the locals come awake.

Elderly women concentrate on their steps during mass, disco-fueled dance classes. Young men display balletic grace and acrobatic skill playing keep up with oversized shutlecocks. Groups of shaven headed monks dressed in enlightening orange shuffle between tuk-tuks and disgruntled elephants. Market stall owners selling exotic snacks ranging from small insects and birds to large spiders and snakes bustle excitedly for business. And, young lovers plot against society's rules on public affection beside neon lit fountains.

The bad
In the shadows of twilight, there is also a dark side. Naked children unassumingly sleep between rodents and waste on the streets. Unexploded mine victims go out on a limb to scavenge for survival. Dealers with open-eyed REM whisper the names of drugs that have killed a thousand rock stars. And, overweight sex tourists attempt to look inconspicuous in karaoke bars that only play sad songs.

We're also aware that the optimistic nature of the locals is a thickly veiled mask disguising the pain of atrocities still fresh in the minds of every generation. Cambodia's recent past is a litany of civil war, culminating in the genocidal rule of the Khymer Rouge - a period that the country is still recovering from.

The ugly
I'm ashamed that my education of one of history's greatest crimes against humanity is limited to a film I never finished watching.

Can you imagine a mind more evil than one who forms a political regime founded on fear that destroys free thinking society, abolishes money and banishes educated people to rural areas to harvest rice for government export - killing nearly two million men, women and children in the process. Please allow me to introduce to you, Pol Pot.

We realise that visiting some of the scenes of the Communist dictator's crimes will be a harrowing but important experience. Our first knock at death's door calls at Tuol Sleng (S-21) - a former school converted into a detention centre where members of the opposition were cruelly tortured and often killed.

It's eerie, walking through corridors where children's carefree laughter would have been replaced by the screams of victims being taught brutal lessons in the modified classrooms. We pass haunting galleries of the faces who were killed here and whose ghosts may have never left. A guide tells her personal story of escaping to the Thai border by night leaving murdered relatives in her wake - she ends with a shrug, saying that every Cambodian is connected to a similar story.

The gruesome pictures, claustrophobic chambers and sorrowful expressions make for a morbid experience - but, it does inspire a respect for the people's perseverance that grows even greater at the Killing Fields...

First impressions are not as expected - a gated entrance opens into a scene from a summer meadow set across undulating green lawns, wild flowers and a picturesque lake with birdsong whistling in the air. At the centre is a pristinely white shrine dedicated to those who lost their lives here.

It's not until you get close that the underlying horrors are revealed. Behind glass doors, the central column of the shrine is shelved and stacked with skeletal remains of the dead - featuring rows of faceless skulls scarred by the fractures of bullet-saving bludgeoning. Then, it becomes apparent that the rolling lawns are actually sites of mass graves that have been excavated and covered by a thin cosmetic of grass. It's a day that pulls at the heart strings until they gently weep and asks more questions than offers answers.

Before death, came glory. At the first light of civilisation, the Kyhmer empire was the jewel in SE Asia's crown for close to three centuries. Past glories have been left in ruins - the debris of crumbling temples is strewn across the country. But, there are none more impressive than the magnificent Temples of Angkor. We leave for Siem Reap in search of divine intervention to save our troubled souls.

Wat a wonderful world
The last remains of Cambodia's lost kingdom are embroidered across a vast tapestry of tropical forest - it's the sort of place that Indiana Jones may take Lara Croft on a date. And, even without a bull whip or hot pants, it feels like stepping into an adventure...

Since the area is so spacious, we decide to visit the peripheral sites by tuk-tuk - chauffeured by an ammiable local who stays smiling even when the first sighting of an elephant reminds me never to forget the camera.

After an about turn, we pass through an entrance guarded by monumental gates bearing four enigmatically smiling faces of Avalokiteshvara (the Budha of compassion). Most of the abiding stonework is etched with intricate carvings from both Budhist and Hindu philosophies that have endured hundreds of years. In shaded areas, the grey stone has been mottled green by the creeping infection of lichen while exposed areas have been bleached orange by the sun - creating a colourful palette that comes to life in fading light.

Within the skeletal frames of once eleborate entrances we wander through the shadowed intestines of corridors passing embossed bas-reliefs depicting static scenes of 12th century Cambodia while lone monks tend to shrines shrouded in a fog of incense smoke.

Between temples (wats) we're accosted by michievious faced cherubs hard selling with business sense well beyond their tender years. Eventually, we accept a win or buy challenge of noughts and crosses drawn in the sand - leaving with some hippy shit after being soundly beaten five times in succession! 'Lovely Jubbly' they celebrate, although I'm sure they have an equally alternative closing line in a variety of languages.

Our introduction ends with a climb up vertigo-inducing stairs to a high temple where we watch the sun disappear behind a deceptively sparse landscape hiding a wealth archeological wonders.

While we have already stolen a distant glimpse of Angkor Wat - it's difficult to ignore the world's largest religous building - we save first impressions for the second day. We rise before dawn and cycle through the perpetual darkness of a tree lined tunnel with only the occasional pilot lights of passing vehicles to guide us. Given my previous history of two-wheeled travels and historic monuments (fracturing a shoulder at Machu Picchu) we ride against a wind of caution. It's not until we arrive that I notice the bikes are fitted with headlights!

It's still the dead of night as we walk across a moat that would make medievil castles blush. All we can see is the disjointed movement of torch beams searching ahead. We continue until we are confronted by statues of mystical creatures guarding stairs towards the entrance of Angkor Wat itself.

While most people are waiting for daylight to develop a classic picture of the famous towers from the outside, we are unexpectedly ushered in by a guard. When the sun begins yawning across the horizon we are virtually alone in the inner courtyard surrounded by the shadows of symetrically alligned towers, imposing walls and fallen stone - it feels like waking up to the past.

Angkor Wat is a source of national pride to the Cambodian people and the tapered tower insignia appears everywhere from the national flag to bottles of beer. After exploring the inner sanctum we leave for a perfectly timed view of the crimson sun illuminating turrets and bathing the lake with a backlit reflection. Angkor Wat. Done.

The rest of the day is spent wandering the manicured lawns of Angkor Thom. We're followed by a thousand eyes around Bayon, a temple that features over two hundred Budha faces staring down at you. We're confused by the conundrum of restoration at Baphuon, which has left an unfinished jigsaw puzzle of stone pieces after the Kyhmer Rouge destroyed archeological records during French redevelopment. And, we tread the boards of immense public stages at the Terraces of Elelphants and Leper Kings.

A sense of history is ever present, although there are some contradictions - lumbering elephants carrying unsteady tourists and monks text messaging on mobile phones!

Spend the evening behind bars...of various drinking establishments around Siem Reap:)

We return to cycles for our final day, unaware that the so-called small circuit covers 30 saddle sore kilometers. The highlight is Ta Phrom, a decaying temple slowly being digested by the encroaching forrest. Under the dappled light of the tree canopy, roots manouvre like organic tentacles probing between dead buildings and dripping over entrances like candle wax - we're not surprised when we hear this place was used as a location for Tomb Raider.

With temples, schmeples seen we head south exhilarated with our hearts growing fonder for absent friends coming to a beach near us soon...

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