An Action, Adventure Guide to Enlightening Travel

A Glimpse of the Gods

After fifty-seven hours spent traveling through airports, train stations, and the Southeast Asian countryside, I browse the dusty streets of Siem Reap, Cambodia, for a suitable bed. My choices are unlimited. I enter a quaint courtyard, leave my shoes at the door, and find myself in the most magnificent room I’ve ever purchased for five dollars.

Still worn from my journey, I pull myself awake in the morning and prepare for a full day spent exploring the Angkor temple complex. The millennium-old ruins of Angkor reflect a thriving empire reclaimed by the jungle and shadowed by haunting memories of recent genocide. Spanning four hundred square miles, Angkor is a powerful and mysterious testament to human achievement and neglect.

Upon leaving the hotel, I realize that my shoes have disappeared. Noticing my distress, a youthful man runs to my side and offers me his own. I am unsure, but he smiles at me with eyes shining as if a thousand watt spotlight blazed inside him. I accept the oversized plastic thongs, rent a rickety bicycle, and begin the journey to Angkor.

I ride through streets overflowing with food carts, bicycling tourists, and whole families on single motos. A man passes by on a scooter, managing to balance three dead pigs strapped behind him, stiff limbs stretched skyward. Touters line the street barking “tuk tuk!” at anyone who passes by. One runs toward me on bare, callused feet. “My lady!” he says, pointing to my nearly deflated front tire. My heart sinks as I stop peddling. Imagining that he will now force his services as my driver, I watch him run back to his trailer and produce a small hand pump. Surprised and humbled, I silently wait as he injects short bursts of air into my bicycle and cheerfully waves me on my way.

Angkor Wat rises into view as I approach the temple complex. I roam the massive stone labyrinth and trace eroded wall carvings with my fingertips. It begins to rain, and droplets of mud pattern my dusty skin. I duck into an alcove to avoid the downpour, close my eyes, and allow the earthy air to wash over me.

Sensing someone behind me, I turn to find a slender young girl dressed in a long, tattered skirt, carrying a basket of food. I know what I must look like to her – an exhausted, muddy foreigner huddled alone in the rain. She offers me what appears to be a bean. I chew the turgid, fibrous vegetable and begin to wonder if proper preparation should have involved peeling. She giggles at my obvious difficulty, smiles widely, and hands me another.

As I watch her walk out into the steamy rain, I am struck by the genuine kindness of the Khmer people. I came to Angkor to witness the human expression of the divine, and I found it, not through ancient architecture and long-abandoned monuments, but within the warmth and generosity of those who remain.