The Churning of the Ocean Milk



Angkor Wat (Photo by Sang Kimleng)

Earlier in the week we had traveled overland on route 6 to Siem Reap, where the Angkor temple ruins are located. The drive takes about 6 hours and is amazingly scenic. Outside the window was the luscious countryside, vibrant fertile green fields of tall grass, palm trees and large bodies of water dotted with lotus flowers.  Our bus swiftly swerved in and out of traffic, passing pick up trucks overflowing with goods and passengers; motor bikes with mattresses and other furniture attached to the seat;  motor bikes with pigs strapped together and tied onto seats; motor bikes with women riding side saddled, their sandals dangling delicately onto their feet, yet never falling off.

Bayon Terrace

I'm still quite sore and actually pulled a muscle climbing through ruins. It can be quite strenuous. It can also be incredibly annoying due to the volume of tourists, especially at Angkor Wat and the surrounding temple complex. You will inevitably encounter those individuals who will pose and photograph themselves in front of a landmark for like 30 minutes, seemingly oblivious that there are hundreds of people trying to capture a photo. 

This is where my dear friend Sang came to the rescue.   

He's a photographer and runs a guest house in Siem Reap that thankfully isn't listed in any of the major travel guides.  He knows all the back roads and routes to get around the crowds. He took us on a pilot episode of "Off-roading in the Tuk Tuk with Sang".

Beng Mealea

Beng Mealea is one of those gorgeous outlying temples that doesn't get much foot traffic.  It's a 2 hour drive from Siem Reap on a road that runs along the base of the Koulen mountains. The temple was built in the 11th century under the rule of King Suryavarman II and many scholars argue that it may have been the model for Angkor Wat. The jungle has overrun much of the structure as it was abandoned for years under Khmer Rouge rule and it currently isn't considered a part of the Angkor World Heritage site. Snacking on sticky rice with black beans wrapped in thin rolls of roasted bamboo, we made the trek with Sang in a moto driven rickshaw.

 

Lost Temple

I spent several hours at Beng Mealea climbing over broken walls, clambering over moss covered stone and scaling precariously along the outer edges of the labyrinth structure. Resembling strong hands, there are trees roots that gently lift entire sections of the inner sanctuary, in a silent confirmation of nature's strength. Thin tree limbs hang from the sky, flowing to the earthen floor in smooth spirals. I was completely absorbed in my element, feeling my skin baking in the immense weight and heat of the jungle, running my fingers through the rust colored dirt and watching the pale patterns of sunlight trickle through the canopy of abundant lush forest.

Angkor Wat Rule No. 01: Let go of your travel guide  : -)

Ta Prohm....ROOTS!



Lawless Fearless Fabulous Phnom Penh

 

Wat Phnom

The river changed its course the first time I arrived in Phnom Penh a few years ago.  It was during the Boon Om Tuk festival,a three day celebration that marks the reversal of the current of the Tonle Sap river at the end of rainy season. The energy here feels a bit unsettled as before and the air is undeniably thick. Here is a city that had the shit kicked out of it, literally emptied of all of its inhabitants at the beginning of the Khmer Rouge regime's deadly 'Ground Zero' experiment a little over 3 decades ago. Possessing the resilience of a fighter, Phnom Penh is recovering and has rapidly grown. An influx of new restaurants, boutiques, book stores and wine bars line the streets. Then there are the mainstays like Happy Herb's Pizza on the riverfront. Yes, the name implies exactly what you're thinking. The city is rough. It can be raw, without too many frills.  At the same time, it's quite striking and beautiful, sitting just west of the confluence of the Mekong, Tonle Sap and Basac rivers.

Who doesn't love the resilience of a fighter?

Monkey at Wat Phnom

I had learned a few Khmer language phrases since my last visit, but I'm still finding that no one understands me when I speak. The language is somewhat staccato and tonal, with a collision of consonants that I can't quite wrap my tongue around.....and my French is limited to Catholic prayers. The only person who has understood me is Veasna, a colleague from graduate school.  She was born here, but grew up in the US. She has started an NGO that helps to provide educational scholarships and opportunities for rural Cambodians. (She also confided to me that no one understands her when she speaks Khmer either.)

Banana Tree



On the official, the traffic here flows on the right. This doesn't mean that motorists won't often drive in the opposite direction.  Traffic lights are adhered to arbitrarily.  The other evening, I was one of three passengers, side saddled and sandwiched in the middle of a motorbike. I held on to my knees and balanced the weight of my upper torso in the opposite direction. Helmet? Who needs a helmet when you've got a ribbed tank top and flip flops! I was nervously laughing on the outside as we sped through the streets. On the inside I was praying that it wasn't in my destiny to check out on the pavement of Sisowath Quay.  

We visited the ongoing exhibit of Al Rockoff's photographs at the Foreign Correspondent's Club.  He was one of the most intrepid photo journalists in the 1970's in Cambodia and Vietnam. Sitting on the upper terrace, the breeze of the mighty Mekong provided a brief respite from the heat.  Everyone that you meet here has a story of the three years eight months and twenty one days that the country was under the rule of the Khmer Rouge. The stories that people have shared with me are almost unspeakable. The ceiling fans spun in oblong patterns.  From the river below, I saw in the reflection the city lights, the resilience and collective will of a people and the gritty strength of the human spirit.
 

Cycling