Temples, sunrise to sunset
Trip Start
Feb 07, 2007
1
44
50
Trip End
May 15, 2007
Today, I woke up at 4:45 to go visit Angkor Wat at sunrise. My roommate I'd been assigned to for the trip wanted to sleep in, which surprised me because hey, how many times are you going to see one of the most magnificent temples in the world at sunrise, but everybody's different. We shuffled onto the bus and Sang, a little too bright and cheery for the hour with his New York accented English, reminded us that we were going to the "ti-emple". Becca and Matt got several videos of our guide, and I was pleased to learn when Lauren, Katie, and I reunited back on the ship the last night in Vietnam that they had had the same tour guide. He was just the funniest, most entertaining guide I've ever had, and not always because he meant to be. His high voice, his big arm movements and flimsy wrists, his over-exaggerated facial expressions, in the US he would have been pegged right away as a homosexual, but I'm not entirely sure that we can be so quick to label him because hey, we were in Cambodia. Perhaps culturally people are more feminine without necessarily being gay. But even more than that, he just repeated himself over and over to the point it became entertaining rather than frustrating, because listening to him talk just made you smile. "Ho-ti-el" and "ti-emple" were the words he repeated the most, and now the joke amongst Becca, Matt, Lauren, and I. Everything he said, he said five times. "First, we're going to leave the ho-ti-el to leave for the ti-emple, and once we get to the ti-emple we're going to see the ti-emple, after we leave the ho-ti-el. Okay? So, we'll visit the ti-emple. We're leaving the ho-ti-el, to go see the ti-emple." So, everyone was always informed about what we were doing because if you missed it the first four times, he'd say it a couple more, before the bus started moving. Siem Reap at 5:30 was absolutely mystical. I felt like I was back in Britain during the time of King Arthur and Merlin, with the mist hovering over the streets and trees once we left the town, which had already started to awaken even at the early hour. I was surprised that even children, a young girl around nine or ten, was out riding a bike with goods strapped to the back of it. Really, it tears you apart to think that these people have to begin working as soon as they are able to do, age wise, time wise, everything. If you're able, you're used for your labor so that the family can bring in money. However, we didn't see very many people at all yet, let alone children, selling postcards and Lonely Planet books and bracelets when we arrived, so at least they waited until 7:00 or 7:30 to get going for the day. We arrived, and more than on our drive through the forests to get to the temple in the mist, I felt like I was in a storybook. It wasn't dark, but it was cloudy so we didn't even get to see the sunrise, but it was still so fantastic, sitting on the ruins of a much smaller temple alongside the walkway towards the main temple. I sat in awe, my back against the front wall of the temple, my mind far away. You know when you zone out and you don't see what's right in front of you but instead you imagine you're seeing your thoughts, the things you're thinking about? Instead of looking at the sun rise over the grey morning in front of Angkor Wat, I was looking at myself, seated on the remains of the temple. I was watching myself think about what I was seeing. It's like what I was seeing was too much, too grand, so I had to pull back and just see myself. After sitting there for a little while, we decided to go inside the temple and look around, as we weren't really going to get to watch the sun rise. I walked up to the entrance and turned around to look at the walkway, yellow fields, small temple ruins, and the magnificent temple under my feet and behind me in the pale morning light. It felt like everything, in that moment alone in the stone doorway, was perfect. Everything was quiet, simple, beautiful. So I had trouble imagining how anything could possibly be wrong with the world, with a view as pristine as the one I was looking at. And then, as quickly as it had overcome me, it escaped again, and I carried on through the temple. I climbed over and through the stone, peeking out windows to stare at more stone, and up and over stairs and greeted by golden statues of the Buddha wrapped in a bright orange sash and Buddhist monks wearing robes in the same color lighting incense to pay respects to him. I was offered one and set it before him, not because I'm a Buddhist but out of respect for the people who created this structure so many hundreds of years ago. We eventually made our way through to the central part of the temple, where we were greeted by a huge, narrow, stone staircase of at least one hundred stairs. Becca and Matt immediately started climbing, but me? Not so quickly. Lauren and I had talked about how it makes no sense that I love skydiving but am terrified of heights. I think it's because, falling thousands of feet, you have a parachute on you and the ground is so far away it doesn't even seem like you're that high. When you're climbing, however, you don't have a safety net and the only thing to break your fall is your body, so the fall ends up breaking you. Whatever the reasoning, though, I was not at all excited about climbing up those stairs to get to the top of the temple, but I knew that if I didn't do it I'd always regret it, so I just went to my happy place (just imagining myself on solid ground- easy enough) and climbed my way up. Once I got up there, I was so glad I did. I could see everything: temple stone in front of me and behind me, the yellow fields and trees out around me speckled with the bright orange of the monks' robes, and the moat in the distance. I mean, after seeing Angkor Wat at sunrise, what else is there? Plenty, obviously. But really, though, the experience was unforgettable, irreplaceable, never to be repeated. Even if I ever get the chance to make it back there, which I would love to be able to do, it won't be the same. I won't be the same person I am now, and I am not the same person I was when I started this. And every time I go somewhere and I see something that is so much bigger than me, whether it's something like a temple or just a woman holding a child with severe deformities (like the woman I saw outside of the temple), something that's so outside of me, beyond me, greater than me, there's this weird feeling of empowerment and despair that fills me. I felt so alive, yet so much in a dream state. I'm just basically an emotional roller coaster these days, a walking contradiction sometimes. I have no idea what I'm going to feel at any given time, if I'm going to be elated or if I'm going to be terrified, if I'm going to feel lonely. I was homesick in Vietnam and Cambodia, but was loving it too. I was loving how it was challenging me to keep pressing on. I'd wanted so badly the night before to get out of there. I'm not sure what it was about Cambodia that just made me so homesick. I think it was more the combination of Easter being the Sunday before, the parent visit being during that port, and Cambodia itself. I'm not sure what it was. Perhaps it was just being in places where so much has happened in the past forty years, after seeing the War Remnants museum in Vietnam. It ripped me apart, being there. The people were wonderful, and the scenery beautiful outside of the city. In the city, it was no worse than what I'd seen before, so I have yet to pinpoint exactly why it was so hard for me, why I was so homesick and get out of Cambodia, get home. But on the top of Angkor Wat, I wasn't worried about being homesick. I was just filled with love and joy and peace, which I hadn't felt much of the past few days. We walked through that part of the temple for awhile longer before we had to climb back down (thank goodness there was a handrail for this adventure) and ran back to the bus to make it on time. By this time, the young girls and boys had come out to sell their goods. We pushed through them to get back on the bus, swatting away their arms and hands as softly as possible, and got back on the bus to go to the ho-ti-el. We had breakfast and left for the Jung-kle Ti-emple (I have to write it with Sang's accent, or else it's just not the same), which was another drive through the forests. I enjoyed this temple, roaming around the ruins covered in tree roots and branches, but I think it was more the first encounter with Chinese tourists. That was the highlight of the visit. I almost twisted my ankle falling off of a step because a Chinese woman would not let me get by. I know she understood English because her guide was speaking English, and she turned around and looked at me when I said 'excuse me' and she simply turned her head around to look at me, and ignored me. Okay, fine. Not a problem, but I didn't want to fall down the two-foot ledge so I had to just push my way around her. And we did this, many many times. The entire temple was filled to capacity with mostly Chinese tourists, so we had fun fending them off for an hour. And after China (yes, I'm really behind so I'm writing this sitting in preport for Japan tomorrow!!), I realized that's just how they are. They wear their little red hats and follow their guides carrying a flag, and just push, push, push. Becca was about to take someone out if they pushed her around anymore, but all I could do was laugh. They're not going to respond to you, they're not going to pay any attention to you if you're falling off the roof of a temple, so I just went with it. I was also quite taken with the Cambodian amputee bands that would play music outside the entrances of the temple. I'd been warned that many amputees would be around the country, what with the war and the presence of landmines to this day, so it was neat to see men with missing an arm or a leg or sometimes both, gathered together on a blanket on the ground playing flutes and other traditional Cambodian instruments. They were offering CDs to purchase as well and I should have gotten one, but I didn't. And, of course, I should have. But, oh well. After the Jung-kle Ti-emple we went back to the hotel for lunch and to check out, so Becca, Matt and I made some hostel reservations for China and Japan, I called Mom before she left for Italy, then off we went to Angkor Wat once more. We were dropped off at the back entrance this time, which was pretty cool because there were no people entering the temple grounds this way, so it was just SAS students. Becca, Matt and I were free to run around and take pictures all we wanted without having to dodge other people or worry about being in other people's ways. At the back, also, were etchings of Hindu gods and demons along the walls. My favorite was the churning of the sea milk, a depiction of gods and demons lined up in a tug-of-war stance in the ocean pulling on a snake to swirl the waters, which were special waters that when they evaporated the gods would absorb the moisture and become immortal. And it was simply beautiful, these detailed etchings in the sandstone walls of the temple. To be looking at something so old and up close, sometimes seeing so many temples and structures, I hate to say, takes away from the experience a little bit. However, Angkor Wat lost nothing on me. In fact, it reinvigorated my appreciation for old temples and constructions, and it really made me further appreciate museums. When the heads of temples are chopped off of them and shipped to museums, and you're looking at the original piece, it's pretty awesome. The things you're seeing aren't just bits and pieces of rock, but from an actual construction somewhere in the world. And yes, we all know this, but again, seeing it up close and personal really hits it home for me sometimes. We didn't have much time, only an hour, and we knew how long it would take to get through the entire temple to get back to the front to the bus, so we just took a quick browse through the temple one more time, smelling once again the air thick with incense and taking a few more pictures of monks and Buddha statues. I didn't want to leave the place, at all. I wanted to just sit there for days, think, write. Maybe, someday I can come back on a trip on my own where I will be free to go where I want to go when I want to and not be shuffled so much, so I can. Until then, my memories of it are enough to keep me satisfied and awe-inspired. We then went to visit a couple more ti-emples, Angkor Thom and a temple that had pretty much collapsed before that. I absolutely loved the collapsed temple, climbing through and over the stones, even more so than Angkor Wat because at least that was fully constructed. It was there that I had my epiphany about the museum relics. We walked through a long, wide walkway lined with statues of just bodies because the heads had been cut off to be shipped to museums because the entire body was too heavy to send. I felt like I was in the movie Congo, where they're in the middle of the jungle searching through temples for diamonds. Granted, we weren't looking for diamonds, but we were climbing. And I loved it. Climbing through the remains of a 13th century temple, how do you not love that? After this temple, we had to wait about a half-hour for our busses to come get us, so we sat around at a restaurant, where the workers' children were lounging about on hammocks tied to trees at the back of the outdoor eating area. We tried not to stare at the men wining and dining their Cambodian prostitutes, but it was difficult not to do. The men fed the girls, the girls giggled and flirted, the usual, except for the shabby location. But, I suppose when all that's available to you is the sidewalk café, and I mean literal sidewalk café because it was right off the road, that's where you go. I hadn't really expected to see men picking up prostitutes behind a temple, but I suppose you never really know what to expect in these countries. After the busses finally came for us, Sang took us to the Happy Room before we went to Angkor Thom, the famous face temple. There were more stairs, as there are stairs everywhere, but I was a little bit more confident with them this time. And as always, the Buddhist monks were there offering incense and asking for money. Matt gave some money for both of us, but she wanted me to give some money as well and when I told her I only had large bills, she hissed at me. So much for spreading the spirit of Buddhism. Becca saved me and gave her some more money before we carried on. We took pictures and I reveled in the fact that I was where I was, at a temple in Siem Reap, Cambodia, before we exited the temple and went to enjoy a cool bottle of water while we waited for the bus to take us to the airport. While we waited, I encountered the cutest little girl I have ever seen, trying to sell me bracelets. She had the same low, monotone sing-song voice. "Miiiiss'mm, only one dooollar'mm. Pleeeeease'mm." Over and over again, her footsteps breaking up the steady hum of her voice. She was persistent, following me about a quarter of a mile down the road between temples. Once we got to an area behind Angkor Thom where tables were set up with goods to buy and sell, we sat on plastic chairs for awhile, just watching the children of the shopkeepers play with each other. I tell you, Cambodian children are the cutest children in the world. Their faces are just precious, round and brown with big dark eyes, and they are so animated. A little girl no older than four and not much wider than the handle of a rake carried around her little brother, a baby probably around eighteen months. He chased after his sister, crawled on top of her as she toppled over him, ran around from chair to chair to play with us, and back over to his mother. The little girl was wearing only a dress, the baby just a diaper, and another little boy, probably closer to two, was wearing absolutely nothing. He had a huge little potbelly, probably from malnourishment, and as big of a personality. He knew how to flirt, and he smiled and charmed his way into all of our hearts, as he came over to us and took our sunglasses to play with, and anything we would hand him to play with. We watched them run around for awhile until our busses came, and then we drove for the last time through the Cambodian countryside to get to the airport. We got to the airport much too early so Becca, Matt and I camped out at a restaurant outside of the main part of the airport and ate before going through security. These airports that we've been to, they're all such beautiful structures, with beautiful lighting and décor that completely outdoes any of our airports in the States. We took a tram over to the plane and I slept on the hour-long flight back to Ho Chi Minh. The airport wasn't busy at all so we were on our way back to the ship within half an hour, all seventy of us in the group. On the way back, I watched the lights of Saigon go by, and I couldn't help but wish I'd had more time there. I thought back to sailing up the river when we arrived, and I have no one experience that really sticks out in my mind in Vietnam, at least not yet, that would explain the immediate attachment I had to it. But perhaps in time I will come to understand it, and perhaps I'll be going back there one day. As we drove along the streets that I recognized from only two days there, a Josh Groban song kept running through my head. The lyrics talk about him saying goodbye to his child while she sleeps, but tells her not to stop believing that he'll return to her. It felt like the city was telling me, in those moments, that it knew I had to leave but one day, I would come back. I've just not felt such a strong connection to a place before for reasons I don't understand, so maybe one day it will all play itself out. So as soon as I got on the boat, leaving Vietnam behind, I turned into my passport and went to my room to shower before putting the Josh Groban song on repeat. I listened to him croon his lullaby to me, and I sang along with him to the city outside my window. There's never enough time to do all I want to do, but even two days is enough time to be affected by a place, if you let it. "Hush now baby, don't you cry./Rest your wings my butterfly./Peace will come to you in time./And I will sing this lullaby./ And though I must leave my child,/I would stay here by your side./And if you wake before I'm gone,/Remember this sweet lullaby./And oh, through darkness,/ Don't you ever stop believing./With love, oh love, with love,/You'll find your way, my love./The world has turned the day to dark./I leave this night with heavy heart./When I return to dry your eyes,/I will sing this lullaby./Yes, I will sing this lullaby." It did wake before I was gone, because we didn't leave until the next morning, and when I did leave it was with a heavy heart. So, it will have to remember, know, that some day, I'll be thinking of it and our time together, about how it's touched me so.
