Temples of Angkor (2)

Oh, the joys of an early-morning tuk-tuk ride.

Fresh air.

Fields and farms and stilted houses stirring,

Schools buzzing.

Small but intense, Bantei Srei has been decorated on every conceive-able surface, from the entrance to the temple proper, details popping.

I am far from alone here, but I glimpse the crowds as I exit and realize I am ahead of the main rush. Smug feelings ensue and I realize this has turned into a bit of a game, this avoidance of crowds, and it only adds to my glee at whipping down the road, cooled by the rushing breeze and admiring the views.

As the morning session of school lets out, uniformed kids ride double and wobble on bikes that are just a bit too tall, or walk on the shoulder in pairs and groups… everywhere giant silver pots smoke over charcoal fires: palm sugar boiling away. We pull over, and I sample the round fruit, scooping the fresh-tasting gelatinous parts and making a mess of the juice that bubbles up; and the rich lumps of sugar, presented in cleverly folded palm fronds.   

Day 3

My final day is book-ended by views of Angkor Wat’s iconic towers.

I join the throng of people moving across the causeway under a bright half-moon and a generous sprinkling of stars, as a string of lights marks the passage of vehicles along the road I too have just traveled, after leaving my hotel at 5 am.

I find a quiet-ish spot that, although not providing optimum sunrise and/or reflection viewing, was just as beautiful for the silence, as I take in what I came for  - the veil of stars drawn back, the shadowy towers growing sharper with each passing moment, as the blues shift and the horizon is illuminated.

 Then I leave.

Intrigued by the thought of arriving at Ta Prohm before the hordes, I  watch the sunrise break in its gold-and-fuschia glory from the back of my tuk-tuk, touching the top-most faces of the Bayon, and I smile, knowing I will return there later in the day.

And Ta Prohm is stunning.

 After a quick initial walk-through to get the lay of the land, I weave my way back from East to West…. and I know that what I am witnessing is nature destroying something historical, but that is part of the charm of this place: the trees taking back what is theirs.

Roots reaching, worming, cracking, covering, cascading, infiltrating.

Even in it’s original state there would have been  a multitude of paths to follow through this temple, and now with the added confusion of blocked passages it is a total maze -  so I take a crooked path, covering every square foot I can without ignoring ‘don’t go here’ signs or scrambling over anything higher than my head.

So much to take in.

The original structure, rife with carvings and statues.

The interaction between trees and stone.

The tumbled bricks and blocks.

I’m amazed at the numbers of people who traversed the wood-planked (more or less) direct path from one end of the temple to the other, but didn’t bother to take a few steps to the right or left down the myriad of side corridors. 

Meanwhile, I emerge three hours later.

To a day sultry and sunny.

Vehicles kick up dust,

As drums sound,

Playing for sales

In the parking lot.

I make quick work of the royal palace  of Angkor Thom, and the Baphuon temple.

Because it’s hot. And open.

And because I know the Bayon is waiting for me.

With its corner courtyards and solitary shade.

Casting lingering looks on my way out, it’s amazing how the faces that are so prominent up close almost disappear from a distance.

Lunch. A nap on the moat wall across from Angkor Wat, glad of the shade as I wait for the day to fade, saving the ‘best’ for last.

And it is amazing.

Massive and impressive on sheer size alone.

The whole perimeter carved with intricate bas-relief – battles and last judgments and the Churning of the Ocean of Milk.

Figures dance along the walls and columns march down corridors.

Sadly, (much like the Hall of Mirrors in Versaille. And cheetahs in Africa.), Angkor leaves me with an excuse to return in the future… the top-most level is closed for cleaning.

 I loiter on the east side, watching the sun sink: 12 hours later, on the flip side from where I watched it rise, and reluctantly I wander back across the causeway to meet my tuk-tuk, as lilac and pink clouds stripe the sky, feeling slightly melancholy at the end of my adventure.

**And, once again, if you feel like taking a look at the whole mess of photos, click here!**