We awoke to Ian’s rather soothing alarm which sent me back
to the land of nod within minutes. It was more lullaby than alarm. A few
minutes later however, mine blared it’s horrible, mind-scarring alert that it
was time to get the hell out of bed already. Puffy-eyed and lethargically, we
slipped into our temple-raiding garb and headed out to meet Mr. Van. As
predicted, he saw us before we saw him. I was now re-thinking my opinion. He
was either:
a.
A crime lord with spies everywhere that were
watching our every move and feeding it back to him OR
b.
Magic.
I liked the latter option. He tried his best to get a
conversation started, but at that time in the morning my brain wasn’t functioning
properly. I couldn’t be bothered breaking my sentences down into simpler ones
for easier translation and what I DID end up saying was mumbled, garbled
nonsense anyway so again for the most part of the trip, I remained silent – a
new experience for me and one that I did not care to repeat unless forced.
Mr. Van pulled up outside a ticket booth and gestured for us
to exit the car. We mosied on over and had our photos taken for personalized
tickets that allowed us entry to the entire Angkor Wat complex for the day. I’m
just going to throw this out there – at 5am in the morning, I managed to pull
off the cheekiest smirk that just looks bad ass, if I do say so myself. Ian’s
however looked nowhere near as good as mine as I am of course, gorgeous. With our
tickets in hand, we headed back to where Mr. Van was waiting and set off yet
again. We skirted what I thought was a giant lake as silhouettes of trees began
forming in front of the morning light. Mr. Van stopped the car in a giant car
park and explained that we should tour the area for at least two hours before
we would move on to have breakfast. There was still close to no light, but
looking out over the water an incredible silhouette had formed – Angkor Wat.
It would have been a really personal, intimate moment had it
not been for the ‘entrepreneurs’ that swarmed around. They offered just about
everything from personalized tours to books and DVDs about Cambodia (which I
had learned from my girlfriend’s parents from their trip to Cambodia that a lot
of books being sold are simply photocopied knock-offs). Trying to avoid them
was pointless so instead I aimed to be as polite as possible and just flat out
ignore them.
Ian and I walked across a large concrete bridge which
stretched out over what we initially thought was the lake – instead it turned
out to be a giant moat surrounding the entire complex. Making our way through
the first ornate stone entrance, we took our position on the other side,
cameras at the ready, waiting for the sun to rise over the temple. It was
really quite stunning to watch, but little things like other ignorant tourists
yelling or smoking (there were ‘no smoking’ signs around the entire place)
detracted from the experience the tiniest little bit. However, after half an
hour, warm, peach-coloured morning light spilled over the area and we were
treated to an amazing view of not only the temple, but the rest of the grounds
as well.
During another of our many impromptu photo shoots, a young Cambodian
girl jumped in the back of a shot with Ian, explaining that her name was ‘Lady
Gaga’, that she sold coffee and that we should most DEFINITELY visit her stall.
We politely declined, but were stunned that not only did Lady Gaga look NOTHING
like the photos we had seen of her (she was INCREDIBLY tanned in person) but
had taken time out of her luxurious lifestyle to come sell coffee at a jungle
temple in Northern Cambodia.
As the sun rose, so too did the temperature. It was
different from any heat that I’d experienced before. The actual temperature really
only jumped up to 26°C but the HUMIDITY! 96% on that day in particular,
apparently. The large body of water around the complex only added to my climate
woes. Whilst Ian and I were discovering a temple that had been built in the 12th
Century, an oppressive blanket of damp heat sapped us little by little.
Constantly climbing up and down the temples was hard enough, but in this
climate my heart was thumping out of my chest and my clothes clung to me in
just about every possible place as my body bucketed out as much sweat as it
could in a vain attempt to keep me cool.
The weather did little to diminish the spectacle and we
plodded on, jaws dropping regularly. The stone work was incredible. Not only
were these things huge and maze like, but they held intricate carvings on just
about any available surface. These ranged from seemingly random, pretty shapes
to ornate murals featuring hundreds if not thousands of individually carved
characters. One of the first things we noticed was a multitude of stacked rocks.
They were everywhere. There was no order to them, no designated height or
amount of rocks to be piled on top of each other and yet they were unavoidable.
It turns out these piles are made by Buddhist Monks. They are basically a
physical reminder that the Monks made it to the temple to pray.
Another interesting thing that Ian and I found out early on
that day was signs that say ‘No Entry’ and ‘Keep Out’ can be bypassed for $5
US. The guards were actually encouraging tourists to jump over the barricades
for a little cash donation. Ian and I took full advantage of this. A few
dollars later, we were as close to the ‘peak’ of Angkor Wat as we’d ever get.
The views from there at that time of day were spectacular.
We made our way back to ground level and set off towards
another stone building we’d spied from the top of the temple. It was at the end
of a road leading away from the complex and tucked away in a mess of moss,
leaves and time. So naturally, we stomped all over it. I couldn’t believe where
we were. The reality that we were in a different country had really only just
now sunk in – now I was face-to-face with these ancient wonders. You couldn’t
wipe the grin off my face if you tried. Though I’m not entirely sure why you
WOULD. That’s just mean.
It was at this point that it occurred to me that maybe –
JUST maybe – I was over-documenting the trip. Not only had I started this
journal, I was filming everything with the ‘Ion Air Pro’ cameras, taking photos
on the DSLR camera my girlfriend had kindly lent me and again on my phone.
Between the moments of being faced with these awe-inspiring works of human
achievement, I was juggling three devices, as well as jotting down mental notes
for this journal and trying to keep hydrated. Maybe the mood was a little lost
on me.
We made our way back to the meeting area that Mr. Van had
designated for us and true to form; he’d pulled his car up in front of us
before we’d even seen him. By now though, we were almost expecting this. I
began to wonder if this is how rich people felt, then it hit me that I was
probably richer than most of the Cambodians I’d met. And then I was sad. Ian
and I hopped into the car and couldn’t help but lean forward. We were literally
saturated with sweat and there was no way we were pressing that into his seats.
I had the horrible thought that this was more than likely going to continue
throughout the day. This meant that I was going to STINK worse than I did
already. I was instantly cheered up when Mr. Van cranked the A/C though;
instant mood reversal, day made.
We made our way around to another large area littered with
ancient stone buildings and monuments, each more impressive than the last. Mr.
Van directed us to a large enclosed area lined with tables and chairs all the
while with his trademark grin on his face. He encouraged us to have a seat and
within seconds a lady was taking our order for breakfast. I couldn’t keep up
with the reality checks. Within fifteen minutes, I was eating pancakes with
banana and honey in the middle of a Cambodian jungle temple complex, being
waited on hand and foot. Life could be a lot worse.
During breakfast, we spied the reason the various stalls
were able to keep their drinks ice cold so far into the jungle without
electricity. It was literally just huge chunks of ice delivered on the back of
a truck. Great square columns of ice lay stacked in the back of the tray that
were hacked into smaller chunks and delivered to each of the stalls that could
afford it for the day. It was awesome to see – frost clouds were pouring out of
the tray. It was funny looking.
We’d barely licked each other’s fingers clean before Mr. Van
politely pointed to the car and we were off again. We found ourselves at the
Bayon Temple. The car doors hadn’t even closed before Mr. Van had disappeared
again as was his way. That was one of the reasons Mr. Van was just that awesome
– he had this innate ability to realize when he was beginning to loiter and
he’d just vanish. It was great. He was there when we needed him but absent when
we’d had our fill of Vanly goodness.
I’d barely stepped inside the stone covered grounds when a
little boy who couldn’t have been older than 7 or 8 was suddenly jumping
around, pointing up to a risen platform, enthusiastically describing that it
was basically the best place on Earth and that I needed to get up there right
that instant. That was basically all the convincing I needed, though Ian opted
to remain at ground level. Camera looped around my neck, I followed the boy up
the near vertical stair case and to the well-described plateau at the apex. The
view was indeed, stunning. You sometimes miss out on a lot of things by simply
staring at them from ground level. The world seemed to become muted for a short
while as I made stepped around the small platform I’d found myself on drinking
in the vista. When the volume began fading back up, I realized that the kid
hadn’t stopped talking the entire time, pointing emphatically in every
direction. He would’ve been a great little tour guide if he hadn’t been so
expensive. The two minutes I’d been hanging out with him had cost me $10 US he
informed me matter-of-factly. When I handed him $1, he told me with despair in
his voice that with just $10, he’d finally be able to afford shoes. I guess I
just really wanted him to remain barefoot.
Ian and I made our way through the throngs of other tourists
but it wasn’t long before we’d left the Bayon temple in search of further
adventure. We were to meet Mr. Van back where we’d had breakfast once we’d
walked back to him. I had a feeling that it wouldn’t be that simple as the
route was littered with temples and other cool-looking stone things. The two of
us plodded back towards the rendezvous point but had only been walking for five
minutes before we were stopped in our tracks again. Another temple, another
bridge lined on both sides by shallow lagoons but damn if it wasn’t impressive.
We were positively DRAWN to it. It demanded to be explored, and explore it we
did. It was at this temple that we really began noticing a particular
similarity between them all. The people that made these buildings in the 12th
Century definitely had a fetish for near vertical stair cases. I was amazed
that
1.
They managed to traverse the things in the past
and
2.
That they managed to BUILD the damn things.
In the humidity, my body was having a hard enough time
WALKING, let alone lugging gigantic stones into place to build a grandiose
place of worship that would remain standing 800 years later. No thanks.
Ian and I made our way to the summit of the gigantic
building (after waiting for a rather slow and large-caboosed Asian tourist to
get the hell off the ladder) and after stumbling our way over to a balustrade
facing the bridge and lagoons. It was now nine o’clock in the morning and we’d
sweated more in 4 hours than we had in the last 4 months and yet, the following
conversation ensued:
Me:
‘Worth it?’
Ian:
‘…Yeah.’
Poetic in its simplicity, right? Slowly and very, VERY
carefully, we made our sweaty way back down to ground level once more. I cannot
emphasize just how sweaty we were at this stage. It was as if we’d just stepped
out of the shower. But I digress. We found a well-worn dirt path that wound
itself through trees and stone and followed it until we came out near our
designated meeting point with Mr. Van. A few small monkeys were playing nearby
and after chasing them with my multitude of cameras for a while, we fought
through a sea of merchants (‘COLL DREEEENK SIRRRRRRR!!!) and back to Mr. Van
who was, as always, happy to see us. Back in the car, we were now headed for Ta
Prohm, still reluctant to sit against the backrest for fear of adhering.
The entrance of the Ta Prohm complex was again, lined with
merchants. Ian and I were becoming quite adept at politely ignoring the crap
right out of them. They became a distant memory as soon as we walked through
the stone entrance and were faced with a long road lined on both sides with
thick foliage that filtered the sunlight down in golden streams. En route to
the temple that lay beyond, we walked past a group of musicians playing nothing
in particular to nobody in particular and seemed completely satisfied with
that. I loved that. I just couldn’t help but think to myself
‘What
an awesome day job. “Bye honey! I’m just off to the jungle to go play music in
the shade all day!”’ A little further down the road, we found ourselves in
front of another stone gateway and beyond that, lay Ta Prohm.
We had literally only just stepped inside before a shady
looking character came up to us and in a very hushed whisper encouraged us to
follow him. He explained that he knew the complex better than most tour guides
and could take us to places that most other people wouldn’t normally see. Who
were we to argue with logic like that? So we followed, logically.
To his credit, the man did seem to know a lot of factoids
about the area which he dropped in well-practiced English. To his disadvantage
however, the tour he was giving us was clearly dodgy as he held his finger to
his lips to get us to be quiet many times – a clear sign that we were very much
NOT where we were supposed to be. We were with the guy for around half an hour,
clambering over all manner of ancient things. Moss ran rampant almost
everywhere which made climbing tricky and dangerous. Ian found this out the
hard way when he unfortunately lost his footing and landed hard on his hands
when he came back to ground level. Lesson learned – take extra care everywhere,
the place was not user-friendly.
Trees wrapped their way around various areas of stonework;
the jungle was clearly trying to reclaim territory. One area of twisted roots
and bark piqued my interest more than most: to the casual observer, it appeared
that a tree had begun growing at the top of a wall and its roots had snaked
their way down to the ground. This was only partially true. A fig tree had
originally grown down over the stone, but it had been wrapped up by another
tree in extremely close proximity that had – over time – wound around it and
squeezed the life out of it. I know this thanks to our fantastic tour guide.
True
to his word, he did take us to cool areas and showed us the best angles for
photos. Finally, we reached the end of the ‘tour’. Feeling obliged, I pulled a
$20 US note from my pocket that I’d stashed there when I realized the man
wasn’t providing kosher services and would probably want financial compensation
for his troubles. Clearly not happy with the amount of cash I’d given him, the
man asked for $20 more, describing how he had to send his children to school,
he was incredibly poor, had been living in the temple providing these tours for
over ten years and blah, blah, blah. He was probably the father of the shoeless
kid I met before. I stuck to my guns.
‘That’s
all you’re getting mate, my friend hurt himself on your ‘tour’!’
It seemed
appropriate to get some kind of advantage out of Ian’s suffering. Seemingly
satisfied, the man took the cash and darted back inside the ruins. Ian and I
headed in the direction of our next rendezvous with Mr. Van, passing
restorative work in progress. A familiar hum of a distant engine encouraged us
to move to the side of the road. We watched as our former tour guide zipped
past on a brand-new road bike at speed. Something told me that he was going to
be alright financially, just couldn’t quite put my finger on it…
THAT'S THE END OF ENTRY NO. 4! I'm trying hard to write as often as I can and I'm STILL nowhere near up to date. Hope you're all still enjoying! until next time.
Follow the link to Part 5:
http://ponderingoblong.blogspot.com.es/2013/07/2013-world-trip-part-5.html
Follow the link to Part 5:
http://ponderingoblong.blogspot.com.es/2013/07/2013-world-trip-part-5.html
