Chapter 29: Siem Reap, a meditation on green.
Siem Reap, pronounced See-am Ray-Ap, is the site of the magnificant complex of Hindu and Buddhist temples at Angkor Wat. The authorities have identified some 300 or so temple
buildings, all built in the great Khmer empire 800-1200AD (roughly), but only some 30-40 have been excavated and opened to tourists. Though I'm pretty truly templed out by now, Angkor Wat and the other temples around Siam Reap are fabulous; everywhere giant lichen-mottled carved faces of one of the Buddha-kings smiling down at you from the stone mounts of the temples or city gates. Apparently during the most illustrious time of the Khmer empire, the Kings attended to matters of warfare and religion, leaving the Queens to deal with all matters civil and commercial. How sensible they were.
Our favorite temple is not actually Angkor Wat itself, but rather the one that's being slowly dismantled by the jungle, stone by stone. Huge white roots of enormous 300 year old trees threading through the stones of the temple like giant snakes. In fact, what was particularly
delightlful and totally unexpected was the greenery of Siam Reap, even at the very tail end of the dry season. But everywhere, huge impossibly tall trees, some 200-300 years old, so that everywhere, in front of the eyes, there is an ocean of emerald green, absolutely everywhere. It's hypnotic, meditation for the eyes. Meanwhile, the ears are lulled with the song of birds and the chirring of cicadaes.
At the sites, the girls selling T-shirts, post cards, cold drinks, are gorgeous. Though very persistent, and with voices (You buy? One dollah!) like dentists' drills, they are very sweet and usually collapse laughing after their hard-sell pitch collapses. This is a typical exchange, with a sweet 10-year old, with scarily good English.
You want T-shirt?
No thank you.
You want cold drink?
No thank you, I have one in the car.
Stomping her foot in mock frustration, she tries a different tack: Where are you from?
I'm from Canada.
Canada: a big country, very cold, capital Ottawa, two languages, French and English. Most people speak French.
Er, no, most people speak English, but gosh, your English and geography is good. Where did you learn?
I study hard. You want post card? 10 post cards, one dollah. Look here.
No thank you..
OK, maybe you buy later. You want bracelet for your girlfriend?
No thank you, I don't have a girlfriend.
OK, wife then
I don't have a wife either
I don't believe you.
It's true; I have neither girlfriend, nor wife.
OK, wait, I find you one.
So, the Cambodian people, who still think of themselves as Khmers, are absolutely gorgeous
personalities: super friendly and gentle. And outside they are gorgeous too, very exotic looking, like Vulcans.
A particular high point here was the ride on Gita around one of the major temple complexes, courtesy of Compagnie des Elephants d'Angkor. Despite her gender and tender age of just 14, her mottled grey and pink ears and the scattering of wiry bristles on her bald head gave her the appearance of some she had the appearance of a venerable old man of the country
village. Yet despite her appearance, I am rather smitten. As my feet dangled over the edge of the howdah, she lifted up her trunk to delicately smell my foot. What man could ask for more, from a girlfriend?
Lastly, omigod, it's freaking hot here; after stepping outside, our clothes are completely soaked through with sweat in 15 minutes. I have shaved my head to cope with the heat. Fortunately, there is respite at the gorgeous Sofitel where we are staying, with the best swimming pool I've ever been in: huge, bottle-green, full of flower filled islands and secret bays and coves. We wallow like hippos. In fact, my hippo mimicry has became pretty good, thanks to the Sofitel buffet; it's so goddamn difficult to choose when they present 3 complete different cuisines to
gorge from each evening. I tell the waiter that the six deserts on my plate are an optical illusion caused by the shimmering heat waves in the air, that it's a dessert mirage, but he doesn't get my pun. Thank god for the upcoming 7-day fast in Thailand is all I can say, because when I float on my back, my stomach protrudes from the water like a giant grotesque creme caramel.
buildings, all built in the great Khmer empire 800-1200AD (roughly), but only some 30-40 have been excavated and opened to tourists. Though I'm pretty truly templed out by now, Angkor Wat and the other temples around Siam Reap are fabulous; everywhere giant lichen-mottled carved faces of one of the Buddha-kings smiling down at you from the stone mounts of the temples or city gates. Apparently during the most illustrious time of the Khmer empire, the Kings attended to matters of warfare and religion, leaving the Queens to deal with all matters civil and commercial. How sensible they were.
Our favorite temple is not actually Angkor Wat itself, but rather the one that's being slowly dismantled by the jungle, stone by stone. Huge white roots of enormous 300 year old trees threading through the stones of the temple like giant snakes. In fact, what was particularly
delightlful and totally unexpected was the greenery of Siam Reap, even at the very tail end of the dry season. But everywhere, huge impossibly tall trees, some 200-300 years old, so that everywhere, in front of the eyes, there is an ocean of emerald green, absolutely everywhere. It's hypnotic, meditation for the eyes. Meanwhile, the ears are lulled with the song of birds and the chirring of cicadaes.
At the sites, the girls selling T-shirts, post cards, cold drinks, are gorgeous. Though very persistent, and with voices (You buy? One dollah!) like dentists' drills, they are very sweet and usually collapse laughing after their hard-sell pitch collapses. This is a typical exchange, with a sweet 10-year old, with scarily good English.
You want T-shirt?
No thank you.
You want cold drink?
No thank you, I have one in the car.
Stomping her foot in mock frustration, she tries a different tack: Where are you from?
I'm from Canada.
Canada: a big country, very cold, capital Ottawa, two languages, French and English. Most people speak French.
Er, no, most people speak English, but gosh, your English and geography is good. Where did you learn?
I study hard. You want post card? 10 post cards, one dollah. Look here.
No thank you..
OK, maybe you buy later. You want bracelet for your girlfriend?
No thank you, I don't have a girlfriend.
OK, wife then
I don't have a wife either
I don't believe you.
It's true; I have neither girlfriend, nor wife.
OK, wait, I find you one.
So, the Cambodian people, who still think of themselves as Khmers, are absolutely gorgeous
personalities: super friendly and gentle. And outside they are gorgeous too, very exotic looking, like Vulcans.
A particular high point here was the ride on Gita around one of the major temple complexes, courtesy of Compagnie des Elephants d'Angkor. Despite her gender and tender age of just 14, her mottled grey and pink ears and the scattering of wiry bristles on her bald head gave her the appearance of some she had the appearance of a venerable old man of the country
village. Yet despite her appearance, I am rather smitten. As my feet dangled over the edge of the howdah, she lifted up her trunk to delicately smell my foot. What man could ask for more, from a girlfriend?
Lastly, omigod, it's freaking hot here; after stepping outside, our clothes are completely soaked through with sweat in 15 minutes. I have shaved my head to cope with the heat. Fortunately, there is respite at the gorgeous Sofitel where we are staying, with the best swimming pool I've ever been in: huge, bottle-green, full of flower filled islands and secret bays and coves. We wallow like hippos. In fact, my hippo mimicry has became pretty good, thanks to the Sofitel buffet; it's so goddamn difficult to choose when they present 3 complete different cuisines to
gorge from each evening. I tell the waiter that the six deserts on my plate are an optical illusion caused by the shimmering heat waves in the air, that it's a dessert mirage, but he doesn't get my pun. Thank god for the upcoming 7-day fast in Thailand is all I can say, because when I float on my back, my stomach protrudes from the water like a giant grotesque creme caramel.
posted by Peter at 5:50 AM
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