Rising in the morning in a foreign place is strange as the direction of the bathroom & the orientation of the bed somehow puzzled me for awhile before I realised I was indeed, in Cambodia! Year 2007 & not ZERO, the year Pol Pot had reverted to when he regressed the Khmer people to be agrarians. I just cannot imagine the amount of suffering & bewilderment, to mildly put it, the Khmer people had to wake up to during that period between 1975 – 1979 & the effects after. The present average age of the citizens is 25 years old. I had a feeling that this second day in Siem Reap will be more thought-provoking than the day before. I was rushed through breakfast as usual as my travel partner couldn’t understand why I like to chew my food 343 times before swallowing…….alright, I exaggerated but I like to stretch my breakies….

We headed out to what was once, a great empire nestled in the vast expanse of fertile Sokha took us in a tuk-tuk, a rather tiny carriage fitted for joyrides, towed by his ever-trusty motorbike, to the first destination, The Bayon. The Bayon was the last state temple to be built at Angkor. The similarity of the 200 or so gigantic faces on the temple’s towers to other statues of the king has led many scholars to the conclusion that the faces are representations of Jayavarman VII himself. Angkor scholar George Coed has theorized that Jayavarman stood squarely in the tradition of the Khmer monarchs in thinking of himself as a “devaraja” (god-king), the salient difference being that while his predecessors were Hindus and regarded themselves as consubstantial with Shiva and his symbol the lingam, Jayavarman as a Buddhist identified himself with the Buddha and the bodhisattva. There were so many faces on the wall, that every corner I turned, I found a face staring at me. The most profound thing to me in this ruin was the bas relief on the wall. Not sequential, the depiction of the battle that took place was intense, with people in the market scenes being exceptionally comical when a woman shoves a ‘turtle’ to bite the butt of a man (possibly the husband who came home late last night!)……..I thought it was brilliant!

Turtle Biting Man’s Butt!!!

Women cooking around the pot & birds atop the roof!

The naval battle…..

The King on the elephant in a procession…..

As we were within the 9sg km compound of Angkor Thom, Sum, who was the licensed Tour Guide assigned to us that day, brought us to see what transpired through this empire’s civilisation.

Whatever that’s left of Baphuon & the Terrace of The Elephants…….

……..where the king would watch the parade of his people. As I walked on the terrace, I too, felt like the king who once lived in the grounds of Angkor Thom. The sheer size of this structure & the vista from the terrace is amazing, not to mention he built 82 temples during his reign. Why is one not enough?Then along the way was Phimeanakas, a tower built as a Celestial Palace, was a bit too steep for me to climb so I walked around it instead. I have no plans to roll down this tower should I & my two left feet slip & tumble. My precious Oly will not like that too. And a structure that represented Hell & Heaven which is a narrow walkway within the walls carved with idols. It was flooded from the rain inside so I only went so far.

We were taken to Preah Khan where I walked through a maze of tunnels & doorways leading to a huge courtyard at the back. Upon reaching the core of this ruin, I found an old lady guarding the statue of Buddha. According to the guide, she’s been there forever. I gave her something & took a picture of this lady as she was rolling some leaves to eat…..

I wanted to know why she stayed within the temple & where her family was or if she had any family but the language barrier prevented me from doing so. For that moment, I thought about the many Cambodians who had their family members killed in the Pol Pot’s Regime. Sokha’s father was one of them. His mother’s cousin had 4 children & the husband had to steal a corn from the corn fields of Pol Pot to feed the famished family but when he ws found out, the entire family was massacred. Such was the atrocities committed in Pol Pot’s reign of terror. I can never look at a corn the same way again. The entrance to Preah Khan…..

There were tunnels……

…and there were doorways…..

…..seemingly endless with broken stones that piled beyond recognition. The reconstruction is almost impossible as they don’t know which piece fit what & where it belonged.

To be continued……..