Popular history tells of the lost temples of Angkor, rediscovered in
the mid-nineteenth century. In reality, the temples were never lost.
In fact, when a publication by French naturalist Henri Mouhot brought
Angkor Wat to the public's attention in 1860, the massive complex was
in use as a monastery, just as it had been for hundreds of years.
Regardless, when walking through some of the more remote regions of
Angkor, any visitor might feel like they're the first person to lay
eyes the ancient monuments in hundreds of years. In the walled
temples of Ta Prohm and Preah Khan, nature has gone largely unchecked
with towering trees dominating the monolithic architecture. Cambodian
spong trees have sprouted from the tops of the walls, their roots
draping like melted wax, enshrouding the grey bricks in a dense tangle
of wood. Younger roots reach into the slender cracks like tiny hands,
intent on prying the bricks apart to reclaim the land for the jungle.
To get from temple to temple, I rented a rusty women's one-speed
bicycle, complete with a basked on the front. Except for the nice
mountain bikes used by the police, the rental variety is pretty much
the only type available, as evidenced by the hundreds of identical
copies roaming the streets of the adjacent town of Siem Reap.
Within the Angkor complex, there are dozens of individual temples
erected by a long series of kings from the 9th to the 13th Centuries,
each trying to outdo his predecessors. Each building has its own
unique personality. At Bayon, the jumble of towers is dominated by
216 enormous stone faces, several of which are visible at any given
time, making it impossible to escape the omnicient stare of the
ancient king. Banteay Srei is known for its intricate carvings,
deeply etched into pink stone. Because of the depth of the figures
and the selection of stone, the detailed works of art have survived
the centuries far better than their grey sandstone counterparts at
other temples of Angkor.
The most famous monument is the sprawling Angkor Wat, the world's
largest religious structure, enclosed in rectangular moat stretching
1.5 km east to west and 1.3 km north to south. Weathering the
centuries with remarkable resilience, 800 meters of exquisitely carved
bas reliefs, stretching the entire length around the central temple,
depict intricate scenes from history and religious lore. Proceeding
to the innermost part of the complex, the steps become tall and steep
-- a formidable barrier separating acrophobic visitors from the
central tower that rises 55 meters above ground level. Monks wander
the corridors, their bright orange robes dwarfed by the grey stone
towers around them.
But despite its monumental stature, Angkor Wat didn't top my list of
favorite temples, simply because it is positively overrun by visitors.
In my experience, there are two basic types of tourists. Adventure Seekers
travel alone or in small groups, seeking out solitude at far-flung
destinations while quietly mingling with the locals and deliberately
seeking new cultural experiences. Comfort Zoners hop from location to
location on a massive air-conditioned tour bus, reluctant to do
anything that isn't explicitly included in the guided tour and never
wandering far from the rest of the group. They are disproportionately
overweight westerners doning overpriced gift shop T-shirt and taking
full advantage of the fact that east Asia doesn't have no-smoking
areas. Angkor Wat has unfortunately fallen victim to the latter
variety.
Thankfully, just a short bike ride away, it's possible to escape the
crowds and tour buses while finding enough privacy to feel like an
explorer, miles away from the modern world. Escaping the tenacious
vendors is a little more difficult. At one temple, a young girl
followed me for the entire duration of my stay -- about thirty minutes
-- as I pondered a getaway from the continuous offers for cheap
scarves and postcards.
Cuter but equally mischievous are the monkeys, which tend to frequent
the area to the south of the Bayon temple. As I knelt down to snap a
photo of one playful macaque, two others hopped up on my back and
shoulders as they went after my shiny blue sunglasses. Snatching the
glasses away from their greedy paws, they tugged on my ears and hung
on my arms, asking to play. Personally, I was really amused by the
whole ordeal, but I could hear my friend Jeff's voice in my head,
screaming, "Disease vector! Run away!"
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