Siem reap

Notebook

Siem Reap OCTOBER 2013

PR ELUDE

Siam Reap Mysticism and intrigues Among the ruins — While I am still trying to find time to properly write about the delights and disasters of the epic excursion, this visual notebook will narrate ahead vignettes of the full story. In the following pages are iPod Touch snaps, a lame-ass way of documenting travel because I was too cheap and lazy to invest in a proper camera. This sorry means of capturing memories will be changed soon.

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THIRTEEN

spine-cracking hours. That’s the longest I have ever sat in one spot

without getting antsy or homicidal .

Thirteen time-bending hours to get to Phnom Pehn from Ho Chi Minh via a tantalizing “convenience and luxury” of riding a “limousine bus.” So the brochure gleefully announced.

Apparently my concept of “limousine” and this particular Bus Company’s vision of it have the conformity of an umbrella and a snorkel. But what the hey, I’d rather slump in a flammable-fabric seat that refuses to recline than earn mindless airline miles that offers the same ghastly service. At least should there be an accident I can be shipped back home in one piece instead of rescue missions looking for scattered body parts across the jungles of Kampuchea.

Let me get back to the limousine business a bit. One, it doesn’t look like a limousine. Two, Hermes didn’t do the detailing and fitting. Three, there’s no mini bar, but they did distribute packs of coconut biscuits which I ignored at first but eventually wolfed when it became apparent that stopovers are as alien a concept to this limousine bus company as Justine Bieber having actual talent.

The saving grace of this Limousine Bus Business is the foresight that people do not have bladders the size of Olympic lap pools. So they installed a three feet by three feet cubicle at the back as “convenient bathroom.”

This seems well and good except that the roads are bumpy and the driver share the same maniacal driving skills as a Formula One racer who have just inhaled a handful of contraband.

Careening on a highway at triple-warp speed while emptying your bladder in a wobbly cubicle the size of miniature telephone booth guarantees to bring out your inner Cy Twombly/Jackson Pollock.

Ladies on board emerge with muted horror especially after any particular gentlemen have preceded them for bathroom breaks.

But that breed of horror pales in comparison to the eyeliner-applying skills of the “travel attendant” onboard.

Cleopatra and Nefertiti looked like complete amateur in the Kohlapplication department.

More tales to follow. Meanwhile peruse the following photo snaps.

— PREVIOUS SPREAD

Serene In Saffron Angkor Wat —

I spotted a monk approaching, probably halfway between Nirvana and wariness of intrusive tourists like me who have no respect for his religious walk slash meditation among the ruins. I hurriedly snapped the photo and hid behind the pillar. I snapped another photo when he passed me by.

Sneaky tourists. There should be a law against us.

— THIS SPREAD

The Soaring Gates Angkor Wat —

Alain de Botton once wrote in The Architecture of Happiness that it is very easy to feel small inside a cathedral and you can easily sense the grandeur of divinity while inside majestic spaces. Angkor Wat makes this statement so true.

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Coco Loco Angkor Wat —

My Fascination with textures made me snap this photo. However, as this photo so painfully, visibly demonstrates, my unspoken ache to be the next Irving Penn comes to a screeching halt.

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Buddha on Beaded Bandana —

Entering the next temple after Angkor Wat visitors are greeted with a pray over and incense burning. I slipped a tithe on the donation plate.

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Fluid Movements —

One of the many bas-reliefs adorning the ancient walls and chambers of the many temples.

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Cobble Stones On Steroids —

This pathway tempts you to be a kid again by making you not resist the urge to hopscotch. Which I did.

A bunch of Europeans steered clear of me as I hop from one slab of rock to another like a demented grasshopper on speed.

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STEEP STEPS —

There’s a consistent architectural scheme on all the temples we visited: narrow, steep and vertiginous steps. Considering Cambodia is no stranger to seasonal monsoons, how do you navigate these challenging elevations to go out and borrow from neighboring temples if you ran out of incense?

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A Face In The Tower —

Stoic or disapproving? I Can’t decide because the minute I gave it a stare the sun came out of the murky clouds and blinded me.

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Hidden Nooks —

One can only imagine what kind of covert meetings happen in secluded corners as this.

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Ancient Armies —

Eavesdrop on paid tour guides and you’ll learn that Ancient Kampuchea was riddled with disagreeing clans that resulted to bloodshed and so much strife.

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Pottery or Armory?

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No caption given and no tour guide nearby to eavesdrop from. So bring out your inner anthropologist and decide for yourself.

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Ceiling Challenge —

What were the average height of ancient monks? I will not qualify for an NBA slam-dunker because of my Asian build yet these ceiling and door frames painfully remind my forehead and skull the necessity to bend lower when navigating the inner chambers.

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Stony Face —

Now I am aware where Mt. Rushmore got the idea.

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Gnarled Tentacles?

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Not quite. Roots of ancient trees creating a cave-like hollow. Not advisable for claustrophobes.

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Photobomber —

I was yelling at the tourist to get out of sight. I was happily ignored and mt vocal chords are still raw.

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Etch A Sketch —

Painting among the ruins this man gave a aggressively haggling tourists the look that will make your scrotum retract. So I didn’t dare haggle and bought two of his masterpieces.

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Tuber Invasion —

The Little Prince admonished getting your backyard in check by pulling out saplings thereby vigilantly guarding against Baobab invasion. The ancient monks apparently dismissed The Little Prince’s wisdom. Now look where it got them. A Giant tree crushed a temple and grew proudly on top of it.

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Spiritual Post-its —

Scribbled pieces of paper adorn the exit of one temple. I cannot figure out if these are prayers, supplications, sacred verses or a way of showing off brilliant calligraphic skills.

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