Cambodia has become an inspiring experience for me. On Friday we met up with Kiwi born, half
Cambodian, Peap Tarr, who is living in Phnom Penh. He is a sick artist, and
through mutual friends we managed to connect dots and arrange a catch up. His
crew of friends here are involved in diverse community projects based on music,
dance and art, working with children in Phnom Penh, Cambodia. To me it seemed a
way to create a future where there is no past, as the history of devastation to
this nation at the hands of the Khmer Rouge has eliminated unknown amounts of
tradition and culture of this nature. The guys we got to know over copious
bottles of whiskey at a VIP party, were mostly American born Cambodians, all
rapping about their collective ideas and goals to develop their root
connections with this damaged but determined country.
On a hung over tummy I set off for Siem Reap on Saturday.
The bus ride I spent eyes glued outside, enjoying my disposition for sleeping
on buses as I get to take in so much of the countryside and villages along the
way through Cambodia. I try not to compare each place I go to but its
difficult, as here I could still be in Laos weren’t it for a few things.
Cambodia is interesting for me as I am relating this experience to knowledge of
the horrific past burdened upon these people.
The bus moved along, I occasionally chatted with a few
Australians sitting nearby. The stopovers contained colourful tables laden with
fruit, insects in oil and freezers of cold drinks, the usual sales pitches
moaning around. Trundling off the busm after the 6 hours split up with
headphones, staring, photo taking, thoughts and things, a tuktuk kindly
delivered me to the hostel where I was expecting to find Greg, who I met in Hanoi,
staying there.
My $1 a night dorm was on a mattress in an open bamboo hut
with about ten other beds, all with mosquito nets with various sizes of holes
stretched through them. Up to the bar for internet usage and a cold drink, I
saw Greg and we caught up, it was over a month ago since I’d seen him, it's sad how times speeds up so much as we grow older! I met his other friends who he had lived with in Australia for a year, it was
like homecoming to see a friendly familiar face and sit around with a bunch of
travelers, all easy going and talkative, sharing backgrounds and beers into the
early hours. Luckily Cambodia stays open later than Laos.
I spent a few
days relaxing in the intense heat, and moved to a barn-like structure in the
same hostel, that has open rooms with two beds in each. Very communal, but a
bit less rustic than the bamboo shack. I also browsed the markets around town,
there’s 5 or 6 as far as I’ve seen, all selling similar wares, but slightly
different varieties than other countries, so of course I’ve found necessary and
unnecessary items on my mind to purchase.
Yesterday was our first day at Angkor Wat. I had an idea
that we could spend the whole day roaming vast temples taking stupid numbers of
photos to try catch the essence we were surrounded in, then finish the day off
with an impressive sunset behind the main palace. This was certainly close to
how the day went down. Basically at each stop, our friendly, smiley driver
would tell us where we were and how long to go in for roughly, even though
neither of us had a watch. That was cue to wander around the giant structures,
sit and contemplate, avoid tour groups, bend low and high for specific shots,
zoom in and out here and there to create the best colour, touch and rub the
ancient stone, wonder at the detail and gaze at the glory. For roughly 6.5
hours we continued on. The heat was dizzying, the hum of whining girls trying
to sell things along the way frustrating, the somber faces yawning above
our tiny selves. It was wonderful.
The epic sunset I was anticipating was actually from the
summit of a small hill, set up with small ruins smothered in scaffolding and
surrounded in signs warning of danger inside. There were quite a few people all
sweating and angling for a spot to spot the sun. To the opposite direction was
in fact the main Angkor Wat complex, obscured by trees. We waited. The sun sank
slowly, lazy in its resounding flames making the audience uncomfortably hot.
Clouds started turning colours, and raindrops began their decent. By the time
the sky was alight with colour, magnificent in its liveliness, we were soaked
in the torrential downpour that thought it was an opportune moment to release its fury.
In semi-laughter and frustrated slipping and sliding down the water and people
clogged path, clinging onto my bag, as it was most certainly anything but
waterproof, we made it back into our trusted tuktuk, only to arrive back in the
main parts of town where it was dry as a bone.
We arose early as. Quietly making our ways into the darkness
of pre-dawn, into the hands of our driver waiting for us outside the hostel.
Off we went toward Angkor Wat, day number 2. Dawn was chilly, and we watched the
sunrise with at least a hundred other bleary eyed, hushed photographers, and the confusing muddle of tour groups all wearing matching hats and with lenses down to their knees. I was
wishing my camera had a bit more accuracy, trying not to stare at those obviously more advanced machines. It was the bright pink lotus flowers on the pond, alive with fish and insects in the morning light that
captured my attention for the longest moments, although a craving for caffeine soon intervened and we
made our way toward the waiting tuktuk.
The first big Wat we visited today was Angkor Thom. The
stone faces on the pagodas were awe inspiring, every so often I would catch my
breath, my camera useless in my hands I skipped from corner to cobble in a
trance, spinning with my neck craned upwards at the thousands of carved
figures. From there we sped around more of the same but each unique in its
splendor. The elephant terrace was beautiful, postcard material, the shades of
vivid greens, moss and leaves and stone aged skin to staunch sculptures of
elephants that endure eras. Ta Prom was also a highlight, the roots of
magnificent trees saddling the doorways and walls in and around the temples.
Tumultuous rubble crowding the openings, colours varying from burnt orange and
reds, to intense green mosses, covering surfaces of stones of all shapes and
curves. In most cavernous openings in the ruins there would be a collection of disfigured statues or buddha, with incense and a candle burning, a gold scarf draped, some offerings and sometimes a donation box. The frequency of these shrines was reassuring, I like to know the sites are still used for worship, I lit and bowed and rubbed for luck at dawn, in the other temples when I would happen upon a smokey shrine, a nod and silent prayer to those powers that be, then off I would hop.
The sculptures in these Angkorian buildings are what will stick in my minds eye;
the naga, commonly seen here as a seven headed serpent-sometimes human
creature, protecting the entrances; the moats, some stagnant and moldy, others
speckled with lotus pads, flowers and dragonflies; the women, carved
intricately with beads and crowns, hands positioned in varying signs of peace
and joy; the Buddhas’, slanted eyes and vague smiles, astoundingly beautiful,
even when beheaded. I seriously look forward to tomorrow, our final excursion into the ancient land around this sacred kingdom.