The flight from Phnom Penh to Siem Reap was no more hair-raising than any of the other short hops we’d taken so far in the trip - it only seemed that way because it appeared as though Presidential Airlines sourced their aircraft from the Soviet second hand market. This wasn’t a problem to such experienced and fearless aviators as ourselves, but the thermals created by the exceptionally warm weather created turbulence that made Aeroflot’s safety record a major concern until we were safely back on terra firma in Siem Reap.
We were met at the airport by Mr Thy (pronounced Tea), who’d been sent by our guest-house, The Red Piano, to pick us up. On the way into Siem Reap, he asked what our itinerary was and, as he seemed like a nice guy, soon secured himself three days work driving us round the temples of Angkor.
Siem Reap is a strange mixture of expansive and expensive looking hotels, expansive and expensive hotels in the process of being built, scuffed colonial style buildings and smaller, traditional Khmer family homes. The rash of grand hotels set to cater for an expected boom in tourist numbers as more and more people come to Siem Reap to experience Angkor.
Like Phnom Penh, the centre of town was dusty and a bit frayed around the edges, only to be expected really in this dry, dusty environment. We did hear after our visit that when the yearly rains did arrive, tourists were ferried to their accommodation via rowboats sailed up the main street!
Once again, Alex’s research had paid off as the Red Piano was small but cosy with tastefully decorated rooms complete with air-con, satellite TV and a shower. There was also a restaurant/bar which meant we didn’t have far to go for something to eat and drink. A signed photo of Angelina Jolie hung on the wall and if the Red Piano was good enough for Laura Croft, it was certainly good enough for us!
Another advantage of the Red Piano was its proximity to the Psar Chaa, Siem Reap’s old market, investigation would have to wait though because we were due to start our exploration of the Angkor complex.
Early next morning, Mr Thy drove us to the the official entry booth on the road to Angkor Wat where we handed over $40 and a passport sized photo and got encapsulated passes which would be good for the three days we figured we’d need to have a meaningful look around the major sites. Around 100 temples have been re-discovered after the first French exploration in the 1860’s - despite evidence that some of them have been in discontinuous use since their construction - the oldest of which date from the 9th century.
Our first stop was at the South Gate of Angkor Thom, the great city of Angkor. The gate itself was 20 metres high and was elaborately carved with elephant trunks. In front of the gate stand giant stone statues of demons and gods, deities on one side, devils on the other, each ‘team’ tugging on the enormous scaly bodies of a huge serpent - a theme taken from the Churning of the Ocean of Milk story also featured on the bas reliefs at Angkor Wat.
On top of the gate, one of four which stood on the cardinal points of Angkor Thom’s walls, were four giant sculpted faces of the Bhudda, facing out in each direction. These magnificent artworks set the tone for the whole of the following three days as Mr Thy drove us from one site to the next, each one sharing similarities but possessing a real and unique identity, whether that be the exquisitely detailed lintels of Bantay Srei, or the atmospheric Ta Phrom, the magnificence and sheer scale of the place was overwhelming.
It wasn’t just the supreme skills of the artisans that made our visit unforgettable, the kids which hung around the temples to sell cold drinks and souvenirs to thirsty and (relatively) rich tourists were at once amusing and incredible. They’d run over, ask where you were from and proceed to tell you that ‘The capital of England is London, Mr Tony Blair is the Prime Minister’ - a clever ploy to help sell their flute, postcards, books, cola or whatever, and I’m pretty sure that if we’d have been French or German, these obviously bright kids would have would have known their capitals and premiere’s too - we certainly weren’t expecting to be entertained by smiling, multilingual eight-year-olds at Angkor.
Lourne had taken marketing and self promotion a step further. Wearing a t-shirt emblazoned with a Union Jack, she announced “Hello, my name is lourne, would you like to buy my postcards?” and handed us a hand drawn ‘business card’ with a flower and her name written underneath. How could we refuse?
Whilst wandering around the bayon, we struck up a conversation with a tiny, saffron-clad monk by the name of Lin who was making the pilgrimage to Angkor from his Pagoda in Kandal province. Though his English was limited, we talked for ages, mainly about his life as a monk and what he wanted to do in the future. It became apparent that chatting with tourists was a perfect opportunity to brush up on his language skills and he thought it was important if he was to get a good job when he left the monastery.
Some of the finest stonework was to be found at the Terrace of the Leper King where, hidden behind the outer terrace, were stacked rows of figures in almost three-dimensional relief, so perfectly were they preserved.
After lunch on our first day, we made our way to symbolic centre of the Angkor complex – Angkor Wat. Encircled by a huge moat, the magnificent edifice was reached by crossing a sandstone causeway to the outer walls which then carried on to the temple itself. Around the outside of the temple, exquisite Bas-reliefs portrayed Hindu stories, epic battles and scenes of everyday life from the zenith of Khmer culture.
Once inside, an intricate network of galleries gave way to an incredibly steep, three tiered temple building complete with a steady procession of tourists clambering up to the highest level. Towers rose up from the corners of each level, a central tower climbing over 50 metres from the ground.
The whole Angkor experience was awesome, and despite being completely worn out by our three day Indiana Jones impersonations, we’d be leaving with some wonderful memories.
Back at the Red Piano, the waitress who was taking our dinner order seemed to find me incredibly amusing and just looking at me was enough to double her up in a fit of giggles. She had to leave the table to compose herself at least twice before she could write down our order. Once I'd checked to see that nothing had been left unzipped, I tried to join in with the jollity - a big ask when people from other tables started to stare. As ever, the staff were always smiling and laughing - rather like the bus drivers back home - not!
Near the end of our stay, Alex’s quest for the perfect Buddha carving reached a new level of determined shopping. We combed the market where we bargained for a crossed-legged figure but we found that the best place to go was the Artisans d’Angkor which was hidden away down a dusty side street.
The Artisans turned out to be young people from local and outlying villages who were being taught traditional skills such as woodcarving, lacquer and textile work. We were shown round the various classrooms, checking out the student’s work and were mightily impressed with their efforts - so much so, we bought a fine carving of the head of the wife of Suryavaraman II. It was expensive compared to the market but well worth the price and the perfect memento from our time in Siem Reap.
Next day, Mr Thy picked us up and we set off to catch the flight back to Phnom Penh. Along the way we passed several luxury hotels, all in various stages of construction - no doubt to cater for the tourist explosion which is about to hit the Angkor area. Of course all this extra revenue will give a much needed boost to the Cambodian economy but we were glad that we’d seem the temples before the hordes descend.
We said goodbye to Mr Thy and were soon winging our way back to the capital aboard another bumpy flight. Little did we know that we were about to talk an altogether more frightening mode of transport when we set off on our next adventure...
|
