Kbeal Spean, Banteay Srei, Banteay Samre

Having found a taxi driver with the grandest smile ever, I hired him for my first days' temple exploration. Armed with sunblock, DEET, first-aid kit (oh bless-ed be nursing education), chocolate crossiants, my now well-traveled camera, and my gortex, we set off in the early morning rain. The empty road unfolded itself around bends, through massive temple grounds and snaked its way along the 37km of rice paddies to the base of some mountains. An hour later, we arrived at the vacant Kbal Spaen. First impressions fall hard on virgin-temple minds such as mine. And this one will be hard to beat.

We traversed up the wet tree-rooted trail, the jungle consuming our footsteps moments after they fell. Birds flitted here and there, ushering in the morning with their songs. Small rays of sunlight snuck in just enough to illuminate the dew drops dangling off jungle vines and the forest floor. As much as I wanted to linger, I was bent on getting to the top for the serenity of waterfalls and ancient carvings for myself. And THAT, I got! The river washed over the thousand lingas and two yonis (those lucky yonis ;) ), splashing onto platform carvings of Sivas and Vishnus along the riverbed. What a special site. Having discovered it early this morning solo, I questioned what it must have been like to have actually discovered this ancient site a hundred years ago.

My mind whirling from ecstatic spirit, I found my way down. Passing a lookout that begged for a tarzan swoop into the jungle below, I heard some climbing Korean tourists bellowing out their morning “songs” in the hopes of some echo that never spoke back.  We were soon on the road again for my next Dora the Explorer experience.

Banteay Srei was far from the solo standout Kbael Spean abducted me by. But regardless, I was able to find some peace amongst the crowds impossible to capture with a camera. Though not officially part of the mecca of the 3000km sprawl of Angkor Wat, this temple is still endowed with the recognition of a World Heritage Site. Nicknamed “the woman's temple”, this most-intricately carved site was actually built by a king's servants. Its rosy colored sandstone glittered in the early morning sun.

Taking my time in each site and determined to experience the quality of the temples' beauty rather than their quantity, I slowly worked through the ancient spiritual art. Then, I relinquished the reigns to my driver, Nget. He swept me off to a temple I had known little about...Bantey Samre. Part of the Eastern cluster of temples in Angkor Wat, it is isolated far from the “little” and “big” temple circuits routed by world-wide temple-trampling tour groups. Its remoteness gave it a romanticly spiritual charm easily felt by those open to it. Many times I found myself alone, tiptoeing through its monumental air.  I took precautions to make no sound, and temper my breathing to but a whisper.  What can I say, the space just called for it.  

Startled by a priest peeking his head out from a hidden altar, he beckoned me forth. He then offered me a burning incense stick to place in the altar, tied a thread of protection around my wrist, blessed it with prayers and an orchid blossom dipped in holy water, and then insisted on explaining many of the temple carvings I had explored. Feeling honored, I thanked him profusely and then left the temple knowing my day of temple wandering needed to end on this high note. What an amazing day.

Orphanages in Siem Reep

Unlike Phnom Pehn, Siem Reep had slews of dance performances. Many of them were hosted by orphans in trade for some much needed funds. Just hours after arriving in Siem Reep, a volunteer dropped a pamphlet of one such performances her orphanage was hosting the following evening. It was obvious these kids had some serious skill, and most of them enjoyed the gifts they had to share. We were served traditional Cambodia fare, as we watched their dancin feet. The moneys they earn, three nights a week via the performances they host supposedly go towards their food, shelter and education. It was very difficult to eat, knowing they didn't need to share their food with us. I kept pushing it away, and they kept insisting.

Orphanages in Cambodia thrive off of overseas volunteers. I had heard that many parents actually drop their kids off at a nearby orphanage, knowing hat they will get free education in such things as dance, English, Math, sewing, and other skills they can capitalize off of when they are of age. But where are the Cambodian workers? Where are the Cambodian volunteers? Where are the parents? What happens to the children when they leave the orphanage? Where EXACTLY is the money going? The performance I attended brought in at least $200 USD. At least. With three performances a week, thats some serious money in Cambodia. So...why are the kids barefoot? Why are they sleeping in a hut with no real bathroom? What medical care do they receive when they need it? Why wouldn't the orphanage “mom” introduce herself or bid for their fare? Why was she “standoffish”? Why was she wearing gold earrings? As I said before, I was faced with an ethical dilemma common in Cambodia. Sure—these kids obviously needed some help. Who's responsibility is it? Does it matter in the end? Getting no answers to the above questions, except “I don't feel comfortable asking where the funds go” from one of the volunteers, led me to the conclusion that by giving more (in time, expertise, etc.) I might actually be adding to the already existing problem in the larger scope of things. I did not expect that. But, I had to trust my gut. So, I paid for the dance performance I saw, and bid them good luck. Maybe when they get their website up and running, and become more transparent

in their accounting and care, I will give more. 

For now, I just enjoyed the dance.

S-21

Cambodia is a place that can challenge you and your intentions pretty quickly. It carries the beauty of the dance, art, and ancient immaculately carved temples, and the calmness of a Buddhist nation and its people. It carries people's smiles, shining brightly against the hot, dusty backdrop of a city in the sun. It carries some of the biggest hearts worldwide, coupled with some of the poorest pockets in SouthEast Asia. And just a scrape under the skin reveals the heroic-like steadfastness of a people recovering from years of genocide, war, destruction, and everything bad that goes with it. With one glance, I would see some of the most amazing art these eyes have even been blessed to see. Then I would look down and find several begging amputees, who lost their limbs to some of the many land mines still present in the soils—land mines our governments planted and should have cleaned up long ago. Begging, because their state can't figure out how, or who, is responsible and how to care for them.

Before I had arrived, I had made a conscious decision to avoid going to the K'mer Rouge's torture prison in the heart of Phnom Pehn, as well as the Killing Fields-the actual site of millions massacred the year I was born. I didn't want to see it—nor could I validate the tourist-like economy that was blooming out of its infamous history. But, yet, I felt I owed it to someone or something to go. I ducked the Killing Fields—the more expensive option (why go to a massive cemetery for me to already know that killing is wrong and sad and depressing and …. I went to the prison-otherwise known as S21. That was enough.

It used to be a school. So hard for me to feel like I could see kids playing in the courtyard, while hearing the screams of thousands of tortured intellectuals. Spaces hold energy---THEM I felt for sure. 

Shadow Dance

The longer I stayed in Phnom Pehn, awaiting the big assumption that was the celebration for the King on his birthday weekend, the more I really came to enjoy the city life in Cambodia. I found it really easy to walk away from the touristy district, and within a five minute stride in any direction, I was in Cambodia. In fact, the touristy is not yet THAT touristy. Always the dance seeker, I found it very difficult to find information or anyone who should and would possibly know of information on classical dance in the city. After several hours of searching, I contacted a school I had found on the internet. And, sure enough, they had a show that evening.
This was arguably the best shadow puppetry show I saw yet. 

Not to mention the everpresent blessings dance by the women (see video), and the men's stick dancing.  It was so inspiring to see the timidly coy director narrating the performance in broken English, with a smile so big it jumped past his ears. Inspiring to see his guidance in the steps of the teenaged dancers. Inspiring to see work thousands of years old. Inspiring to know by learning these steps and performing for us, these students are keeping this art form--and story telling--alive only 30 years after the K'mer Rouge tried to annihilate it all with genocide. Inspiring to know that by learning and performing this art, these students are learning a sustainable form of income for them, their mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, and their own kin yet to come.

The Kingdom of Cambodia—arrival in Phnom Penh

 

Crossing the border on the bus left me with the uneasy excitement of new surroundings, smells, and heightened sensations and emotions. I passed the time by snapping my window's ever-changing display. Such a contrast in terrain within only a few kilometers inland from Vietnam—large trees again.

I happened to arrive in the capital city of Phnom Penh over the King's Birthday. Through past experience, I expected some sort of city wide parade/event with adorned elephants, etc. Each day I waited to little avail. Apparantly the King's Birthday isn't the nationwide

celebration I thought it might be. 

So, I spent my days bipedal, as usual. Found some great pics on my Walk-a-bouts. For a capital city, I really enjoyed Phnom Penh. Reminded me a little of South India, mixed with a little of Vietnam, and a little of Thailand. I had no idea—at one time, Cambodia's Kmer peoples had stretched through Laos, South Vietnam and most of central Vietnam, touched the China border, and had ownership over much of mid and all of South Thailand. Wowsas.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Better than hackey-sack, this game is popular in both Vietnam and Cambodia. I especially liked how they kick the “ball” from behind their heads, up and over their heads in dancer-like poses. 

 

 National Museum

 

One of my last days, I ventured forth into the Palace. After seeing so many extremes in Cambodia, this place left me feeling uneasy. It's beauty and wealth is about as extreme as one can get here.