(Yes, photos of the Temples of Angkor are coming. Meanwhile, enjoy...Green Colette!)
16 February 2006
Yes I did it, and it was incredible. Kinda stupid, according to most, but unforgettable.
My reasoning? After speaking to many who had bought the three-day pass to the temples of Angkor, I heard a common thread - that after the first day, they were "templed out". People advised me to do one full day and two half days. But I thought, "Why not push myself, experience one intense day, and maybe go back another time?"
So I queued up late the previous afternoon, and got to experience sunset after a climb up to Phnom Bakheng. (You can get in for free after 5pm if you have a ticket for the following day.) This was the only time I took the advice of my moto driver, a gregarious Khmer named Elvis. The place was filled with at least 1000 tourists, and several bored elephants. So I fled to Angkor Wat, "Temple City", which is known to be less crowded at that time.
I've been a little cranky since I hit Cambodia, untimely dragged from a truly chilled out time in Laos. Even the wild nightlife and incredible food in Phnom Penh, and a few new friends, couldn't bring me out of my sulk, or cure me of beggar fatigue. With its curse of dual poverty and post-colonial decadence, Cambodia is not the place for a girl suffering from Hanoi overkill...
Madam, motorbike! (mimes driving)
Hello!
You buy fan?
moto!
Banana very cheap! please, please
...and so on
I love Hanoi, but it wears me down, particularly when the weather's cold and grey, yet still humid. And so polluted.
But Angkor Wat changed all that. I've only been to five countries other than my home in my life, but I've seen and felt incredible places. But the alienness, majesty and spirituality of Angkor Wat blew me away. I saw it by sunset and then returned the following morning on my mad 28-ruins-in-one-day quest…
05:30 – I meet my motodop driver, a new guy, "John", as the person I booked previously is now busy. He speaks very little English.
05:45 – Arrival at Angkor Wat. Many people are entering the grounds in the dark. But once I have gone down the walkway, through the moat and into the central complex, fearfully climbing the narrow steps, I look back. That’s when the hordes arrive – busloads of tour groups, expensive cameras ready to be misused. I have missed them by just 15 minutes. Every moment I see another exquisite shot, but there’s still not enough light. It’s starting to arrive, though, and I know the sunrise will surprise me.
I pray to Buddha at the request of the guard. I know it’s only my donation he wants, and I feel no immediate spiritual connection, but there’s something about saying a prayer at 6am on Valentine’s Day on top of the most amazing structure I have ever seen. I decide to be wise and ask for greater understanding.
As I await the full glory of sunrise, I see the full moon and the sun both burning in the sky at the same time.
And then the light is good, then great, and the only hurdle is avoiding the 100 or so photographers lurking in wait for the ultimate snapshot.
I walk through every doorway, entranced by the apsara carvings on the walls, which I want to touch, but don’t. I know the moisture on my hands will corrode them. There really should be signs here to dissuade me.
07:45am – I leave for Banteay Kdei, stopping off at the compact but photogenic 10th century Prasat Kravan on the way. The light at Banteay Kdei is ideal now and transfixes me, even though these late 12th to early 13th century ruins are less well preserved. Although they were built after Angkor Wat, a lower grade of sandstone was used in construction. The one-star "minor ruin" Srah Srang is just opposite, which I climb and to look over the lake it faces. It's easy to ignore the various postcard and trinket-selling children who are now active, as I have the space for 300 shots on my camera.
08:30 – Ta Phrom. With the exception of Angkor Wat, Ta Phrom is my heart’s favourite. It will fuel the scenes of a dozen unwritten novels, and will be as close as I ever get to being Lara Croft. And yes, she did shoot that forgettable film here. I overhear a guide telling the only tour group around that the trees pushing through the ruins are teak trees. Their bark almost shimmers.
That and the vines, the small dusty, dark-skinned hawker children, (who are not as aggressive as their Phnom Penh kin), are beyond what I could have imagined. It’s the perfect place to have breakfast – fresh quarters of pineapple I cut up the previous night, salted sunflower seeds and iced green tea bought from an overjoyed vendor. When I return to find John missing, she offers me a seat and even shoos away her scarf-selling pals to give me a moment’s peace. The Khmers are desperate for the tourist dollar, and harass you to pieces, but sometimes you can tell their heart’s not in it.
09:50 - John returns, a couple of minutes before I was about to give up on him and leg it to the next temple. My drink-selling buddy had already located an eager motorbike toting relative to do the deed. Poor John, apparently he hadn't had any breakfast.
10:20 - Pre Rup. A late 10th century temple mountain that has its own style named after it, Pre Rup is also where I start to get hot. The gentleness of the early sun has given way to the vigour of day, and I am far from the leafy coolness of Ta Phrom.
But it's worth climbing to the top of this, the state temple of Rajendravaman II, to admire the carved doors on the upper level. As I look over the vista, and the brilliant gold of the ruins are as stunning as the orange sunrise I once witnessed when flying over Western Australia.
10:50 - East Mebon. Also in the Pre Rup style, this is where I start to feel really hot. What gave me this dumb idea anyway? And where are the nearest hot springs? I settle for some tepid water, a lot of tepid water.
Although the free and very useful Canby guide to Siem Riep gives East Mebon two out of four stars, it just looks like a smaller version of Pre Rup to me. And I'm running low on memory stick space anyway. I do like walking through the ruined doors, however, and recognise that it's not East Mebon that's the problem, it's me.
11:15 - Ta Som. Yay! Something not in the Pre Rup style. I was starting to feel trapped in some sort of Cambodian Groundhog Day. It's Bayon, the same style as Ta Phrom, and has a few majestic trees growing from the ruins, including one from the eastern gate (gopura). After pointing out a few good angles to some girls from Hong Kong, and actually starting to remember that I studied photography, I meet an American enthusiast who gives me some really good tips.
He also tells me not to miss Bakong, which is part of the Roulos Group. Unfortunately I know I'm going to, as it's not part of the chosen 28 temples. But I'm also committed to returning to Siem Riep and taking my time to explore here, one day.
11:20. John is positively sulky when I insist on going to Krol Ko before heading to the next major ruin, Neak Pean. He pretends that he doesn't know where it is, and then that it doesn't exist. After I force him to go there, a full 200 metres out of the way, he asks for more money. As I am already paying slightly higher than the going rate, that one's a no.
I like one-star "minor ruins" like Krol Ko. Why? Because you can be alone there, and begin to wonder at all the things they've witnessed over the centuries. I'm much closer to feeling the magic in the silence here than I was even at Angkor Wat, tripping over camera cords and cursing the chattering tourists who were ruining my shots.
12:00 - Neak Pean. Disaster! My camera lens is not closing, instead making these hideous whirring noises like a strangled AI. I accost a British guy with a stonking great camera and ask him his advice:
"There's something stuck in your lens," he tells me. "Turn off the camera; you're just going to ruin the motor." Apparently I have to get it fixed by professionals, god knows where.
"Or you could just wait until it cools down tonight, and bang it," he suggests.
So no more photos. What am I going to do? How am I supposed to remember it all?
Thankfully, even though it's only a two-star ruin, Neak Pean is quite distinctive, and just the sort of place I'd like to have in my backyard if I were a princess.
Imagine what this late 12th century island Bayon-style temple would look like if I were here in the wet. A small, central temple is in the centre of a lotus pattern made up of eight pools, which are now grassed gardens. Each pool has an animal or human-headed spout, and it's a little cooler here, with plenty of places to stop and have a picnic.
12:30 - John is very keen on getting lunch, which I promise we'll stop for as soon as I get to Preah Khan, a three-star Bayon temple that's just two minor ruins away.
Meanwhile I check out Prasat Prei, a small pair of laterite towers just opposite, and Banteay Prei, a slightly larger construction that's nearby.
Also constructed in the Bayon style, Banteay Prei is completely isolated and I find a small room to escape the heat of the day in. Sitting gingerly on the rubble, and trying not to look at the wooden poles wedged overhead to prevent a cave-in, I begin fantasising about an icy cold Beer Lao. The first beer that I, a non-beer-drinker, loved, with its slight honeyed taste and canned perfection.
It is so hot.
Despite the thirst, Banteay Prei is as tranquil as the guide promised and I get a chance to reflect on life, and truly relax, spoiled somewhat by banging my head on the extra small door as I leave.
Oh well, at least the roof didn't cave in.
13:30 - Lunch at a divey fried rice cafe outside Preah Khan. At first they show me a tourist menu, which I reject. I'm not paying $2.50 USD for fried rice! Then, as I start to walk away, miraculously a "backpacker" menu appears, where the same dish costs $1.50. Fair cop, gov., as long as there's fish sauce.
13:50 - After locating a can of the local Angkor brew, I head to the leafy coolness of Preah Khan, "Sacred Sword", constructed yet again in my beloved Bayon style. There I stake out a ruined wall and lean against it, drinking and analysing the stone's mottled patterns.
It's a sprawling place, which was once home to a Buddhist monastery and school, and is now dotted with chunky middle-aged French tourists in white T-shirts and tennis caps.
But I can see beyond this, thanks to determinedly slowing down and attempting to digest my unpleasant lunch. I'm at least an hour behind schedule, but who cares?
When leaving, I give in and purchase souvenirs for the first time. A 10-year-old boy presses two Cambodian scarves, kramas, on me for $1. "If you don't buy, then I can't go to school, " he tells me. I believe him.
15:00 - Central Angkor Thom, "Great City". There are three hours before sunset and I can still make my deadline, like any journalist worth her inverted pyramid. Scanning the guide, I commit to seeing the Preah Pithu Group of five small temples, just because they are mainly neglected. Once these places were honoured and now they're ignored by tall Swedish backpackers. How depressing would it be for the ghosts of that place?
But first Tep Pranam, a long walkway that truly is a one-star ruin, but it does lead to an active Buddha shrine. A couple of Cambodian devotees nod genially at me as I approach.
Just behind is the Preah Palilay, a Bayon temple constructed in the late 12th or early 13th century. This is a delightful spot, and as tranquil as I could wish for. I'm really starting to look more closely at the carvings and the structures, the small doors and narrow steps dwarfed by high towers that you find at the temples of Angkor. It was all designed to intimidate humans, you know, make them aware of their mortality.
But I am running out of time and cannot stay as long as I would like, so I pass through the crumbling gate to the Royal Palace, of which very little remains. There is an algae-filled yet stately lake, however, into which I dip a toe and then regret. So what if I washed off the red dirt that was caked to my leg with sweat? Now my leg smells like pond scum and my sandal is slimy.
On to Phimeanakas, the King's temple. It's the highest construction in Angkor Throm so I scramble up the least accessible "steps" for a view, drenched with sweat. Standing and looking over this ancient city, I feel a little like Lawrence of Arabia pushing towards new frontiers. This indulgence reminds me that I lead a sheltered, pampered existence, despite the fact that I have no dishwasher or microwave back in Hanoi.
After consulting the guidebook, I cautiously climb down the better-preserved western staircase, bidding farewell to the golden tower atop the temple that, according to legend, was home to a serpent that transformed into a woman every night. The kings of Angkor had to make love with her every time to avoid disaster being wrought on them and their kingdom.
Up next is the extensive Baphuon, which is currently undergoing renovation and should be a real eye-opener once the public is allowed back in. At the moment, only the long walkway and part of the reclining Buddha at the rear are on view.
Saving the only other four-star ruin besides Angkor Wat, Bayon, for sunset, I make my way back to the other end of Angkor Thom via the delightful Terrace of the Elephants. It's easy to see how this 2.5-metre wide wall running in front of Baphuon and Phimeanakas has received its name - thousands of elephants are carved into the grey stone. Convoluted sets of steps remind me of my childhood obsessions with hedge mazes, and I methodically decide to traverse all of them. There's something anonymous about being here by myself, the irritating John banished for the next few hours. And there are relatively few tourists here as well - like everywhere else in Angkor, if you time it right, you can avoid those shopping centre crowds.
Squizzing at the more modest Terrace of the Leper King alongside, I then cross over and look at Prasat Suor Prasat, a series of twelve almost identical towers beginning opposite. Behind them is North Khleang, with its partner, South Khleang, a couple hundred metres away. It's close to 5pm now, and I know I should really be heading for Bayon, which shuts at 6pm, but I'm drawn to the Preah Pithu group. Comprised of five small temples, its isolation once again draws me into the past. Two monks take me to the saffron-robed Buddha at the top of the most impressive temple. But however much I want to stay, I must go to Bayon.
The Canby Guide writes, “If you see only two temples, Angkor Wat and Bayon should be the ones. And here I am racing towards the latter as red hot Cambodia begins to dull and cool and darken.
There’s no one there, as it’s not the best time to photograph Bayon. And it’s enormous. Magnificent. That’s where those serene faces on the tops of towers come from. I didn’t even know they were Cambodian. That’s what happens when all you read are globalisation treatises and chick lit novels.
They are incredible but I only have half an hour here. Well a little more, if you count me playing hide-and-seek with the guard after closing time. The first time we meet, I smile and pretend not to understand, then there’s a second time after I loop back into the centre for another look. I may never return here, as there are so many wonders I still have left to see.
But I don’t want there to be a third time, so I hang on the ruin’s outskirts after that, looking at apsaras, ignoring John who is waving at me.
Although I haven’t walked every corridor, or touched every rock here, it is enough. I have felt the place.
On the way back to Siem Riep, I stop off at Angkor Wat to see the sunset once more. This time, from opposite the moat, surrounded by picnicking Khmers and idle moto drivers. I did it, and I’ll remember it.
More information:
Map of Temples of Angkor - http://www.canbypublications.com/maps/templemap.htm
Map of Angkor Thom - http://www.art-and-archaeology.com/seasia/angkorthom/atmap.jpg
Wikipedia entry on the Temples of Angkor - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Angkor#Sites
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