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Published: August 30th 2008
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Yet another six hour bus ride took us north from Phnom Penh through central Cambodia, and we arrived at the dusty Siem Reap bus terminal in the early afternoon. We dropped off our bags at our hotel and hopped right back onto our waiting tuk tuk to make the most of the day's remaining hours. Our driver whizzed us by the ticket-office to pick up our pricey (but well worth it) three day passes and then made directly for Angkor Wat, the heart of the ancient metropolis of Angkor, and one of many sites we were to visit over the next few days.
The two of us (particularly Jordan!), given our particular professional and strong personal interests, are probably prone to hyperbole when it comes to things archaeological. But Angkor Wat is a place that illicits and immediate and overwhelming response. Surrounded on three sides by a wide moat and reached by a majestic causeway, its beauty lies both its imposing vastness and the heart-rending detail of its construction. The causeway continues across the water through the outer wall, and in the immense now-empty enclosure, the contours of the ancient city's street grid are visible through the grass. Beyond, its
graceful towers are aligned in perfect symmetry and soar above gallery upon gallery of stunning bas reliefs. Angkor Wat alone would be worth a visit to Southeast Asia, but the fact that that it is only one of hundreds of major sites in the immediate area around is completely overwhelming.
Feeling almost giddy, we took our time. We walked the perimeter of the second concentric retaining wall, observing the scenes of the carved bas reliefs unfold: raging battles from the Hindu epic the Mahabarata, fierce pantheons of gods and demons, and our mutual favorite - the fateful tug-of-war over a Naga serpent in the Sea of Milk. We then headed for the innermost part of the complex, and marveled at the graceful towers up close.
Our next stop was the hilltop temple of Bakheng, reached on a long twisting trail, which, as it spirals to the top, cuts through the grand staircases which once brought worshippers to the summit. The temple, almost Mayan in its general shape, is an excellent spot from which to watch the sunset. In theory. Having protected our seats from the rest of crowds on the temple's western side, we saw a thick, fast-moving
curtain of rain tearing across the flatlands towards us. Weighing the unpleasantness of negotiating the steep, slippery steps back down to the base among hundreds of other people, we made a run for it, and reached the tuk tuk before the rain did.
The modern city of Siem Reap is the accomodation hub of visitors to Angkor, and at night it is a bizzarre outpost of the West. On Pub Street, shops offer MP3 downloads by the thousand, lounges offer posh cocktails, and any menu offering Khmer food has at least as many western options. We picked one of many identical options, and succumbed to the temptation of pizza. It was excellent.
After dinner, we headed back to our hotel to find the room where our hastily-dropped bags had eventually wound up. Our third storey hotel room was reached by a spindly staircase bolted to the outer wall, the wide gaps between steps a threat to hotel keys and flip flops. The room itself was divided in two, and antechamber and a bedroom, and the enormous bed was surrounded on three sides by massive windows. The view of that night's thunder storm was amazing, and we fell asleep
A Biology Lesson
Linz learns termites from children at Ta Som to rumbles of thunder.
We began our second day in darkness, and despite a detour to change a tire, our driver got us to Angkor Wat in time for dawn. Sitting hundreds of yards from the massive tour groups, we watched in silence as the sillhoutted towers came slowly into view, and then as the sky behind them were streaked with color.
The rest of the day was spent motoring from site to site, each unique, each an absolute gem. From Ta Prohm - choked by the "strangler figs" wrapped tightly around its walls and columns, to the Bayon - each of its dozens of towers capped by four inscrutible stone faces - to the Terraces of the Elephants and of the Leper King - carved in their entirety in extradordinary detail. The variety of the sites, which span a few hundred years andalternate between Hindu, Buddhist, and both, eliminated any opportunity for boredom, and we finished the day eager for anotherfull day of exploration.
After some much needed sleeping in, and a quick stop at the monumental pyramid of Pre Rup, we tuk-tukked deep into the countryside and hiked half an hour into the jungle to
Kbeal Spean - a series of Hindu symbols carved in loving detail into the stone bed of a small stream. Until recently, the site was surrounded by minefields, and while the precautions our guidebook warned us of were no longer in place, we were careful to stay on the trail.
From there, we headed to the elegant ruin of Bantey Srey, rightfully known as the jewel of Khmer artistry. Its red sandstone walls show scenes of the Buddha's life, the armies of monkeys from the Hindu Ramayana, flowers, demons, and dancers. We were soaked by a rainshower in the tuk tuk back to the main area, but happily slogged around sites including the sacred fountain, a collapsing Buddhist university, and temples both intimate and intimidating.
Of course, in Angkhor and Siem Reap, modern Cambodia is never far away. The entrance of every site is watched by a mob of small children, selling water, braclets, postcards, and pirated copies of guidebooks, and they patrol Pub Street witth their wares at night. Their English is astounding, their poverty humbling, and their sales pitches so expertly constructed and practiced that it is hard to ignore them. In a sing-song voice, the
youngest kids reel off their offerings in what is clearly a memorized mantra they do not understand: "please-lady-yes-okay-one-bracelet-one-dollar-you-buy-okay-good-bracelet-okay-when-you-come-out-you-buy-from-me-okay?." Older kids, with a stronger grasp of English, impress their customers with memorized geographical facts:
- "Where you from?"
- "California."
- "Capital Sacramento, now you buy."
Finally, Jordan proved a softy and fell for a well-rehearsed charmer. A kid approached our table at dinner, reeled off several facts about Barack Obama, including that he had lived in Indonesia, was born in Hawaii, and would be better than the current president, and then ducked under a chair as a policeman strolled by. Bouncing back up, he asked for clarification on where exactly Barack Obama was living now and exactly how long he had lived in Indonesia, at which point Jordan, now completely mesmerized, offered to fill in gaps in the boy's knowledge and hastily agreed to to buy a packet of some impressively ugly postcards of one of the most photogenic archaeological sites in the world.
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