The first day, I took a tuktuk. I had been planning to go on a moto, but was convinced otherwise, and was very grateful for it. The main attractions -- Angkor Wat, Angkor Thom, and Ta Prohm -- I decided to leave for the following day as they are in cycling distance, and took advantage of having the tuktuk to go around the "big circuit," with the more distant temples, including one, Banteay Srey, which is about 37 km away.
I met my driver at eight, and we hashed out the itinerary and then headed out. We saw around eight temples that day, quite enough for one day I think. Although some of them are classed as 'minor ruins' by the maps, they are still all equally impressive.
I don't know how to really talk about them. It's hard to get your mind around how old they are, or that they were once the foundations of an Empire and not the ruins they are today, that people walked through them. They are all, for the most part, enormous, huge monuments to power -- some are religious, some are residences, some are capitals.
The stones are colorful. I guess I hadn't expected that, but in this tropical climate the lichen and moss covers the stones and they are splattered with color. There are different kinds of stone, from the porous, sponge-like, to the black and white streaked sandstone (my guess is sandstone, at least), to the regular blocks of grey rock. Each temple is a different color -- for example, Preah Khan, the first I saw and one of the biggest, more of a grey streaked with pink and green lichen, versus Banteay Srey, a rich red sandstone.
If you like, the guidebooks or the guides will tell you what exactly are the carvings, what each room is for. They will show the bas-reliefs and the sculptures and tell you the stories behind them. I guess that's interesting enough, however --
It's not why I was there. Sure, I could have spent more time at each temple, could have hired a guide, could have checked the sculptures against the book. But I didn't, and didn't want to. I came to feel the stones, the energy. I wanted to know what the temples felt like, if they still carried the history with their stones. Just to spend some time in them.
They are starting to crumble now. The plants are taking over -- the trees too, roots dripping over walls and worming through the cracks. Some hallways are blocked with the huge stones, tumbling down like waterfalls. Almost all of the statues are missing their heads, thanks to some enterprising vandals. Can't take the statue, so take the head, I guess.
But the history is still there, like it could ever escape. In each temple, often in more than one place, there is a center area, darker than the rest, with a monument. To the King, or to the Buddha. The statues are draped in bright fabrics, little shrines set up in front with some offerings. Some have donation boxes, and some have watchful guardians, but some don't, just a lighter, some incense sticks and a bowl to stick them, and the statue. I liked these latter the best, but lit incense at all kinds, kneeling to pay my respects to the past. Not to the Buddha, but the ancestors, the history.
Often, by these shrines, there's a mat and some ancient person, men and women, crouching. With them is a bowl full of donations and little string bracelets. Maybe they were monks, or maybe not. Maybe they just know a few Sanskrit blessings, or maybe it's not Sanskrit at all.
It didn't matter to me. The first blessing I received was at the temple Banteay Sampré, just before lunch on Saturday. The man wasn't a monk, because he were he wouldn't have been allowed to touch me, but he took my hand as I sat next to him. He tied the bracelet around my wrist, murmuring a new blessing with each knot. He then gave me a flashlight and told me to go into the darkest, center room, I think a tomb for the King or at the very least a very sacred place.
I did -- it was creepy, and looked around at the fallen stones, broken in pieces on the floor. The ceiling of the pagoda went very high, and I offered a last sompiah before returning to the old monk. He asked me to sit again and tied another bracelet around my wrist, this time sprinkling it with water. He put my hand to his head and murmured, some in English and some in his own language, and then at last released it.
Who knows if it was a real Sanskrit blessing, and honestly, I didn't, and don't, care. The blessing, and the sentiment, were honest, and he wished luck and long life for the both of us. I thought, hey, you know what, I'll take it.
The other thing about the first day was the long trip up to Banteay Srey, a full forty five minutes drive each way. I sat back in the tuktuk, very happy for the roof as it was raining, and watched the countryside go by. Here, as I said before, the children play in the rivers along the road, brown water and god knows what inside, but they shriek and hang onto logs and play. The countryside is beautiful, and so green.
By the time we got to the last temple for the day, Pre Rup, which was really cool, and so big, I was getting really very tired, the early morning wake up really starting to get to me, and all the exploring.
My tuktuk driver, a very friendly guy named Rob who spoke English pretty well, explained the basics of each temple as we arrived -- when it was built, what the name meant, and a few other factoids. Some, he would meet me on the other side, or back at the parking. It was really such a privilege to have the tuktuk, after each temple to settle into the back, slip off my shoes, and watch the jungle go by.
I spent much of Saturday evening hanging out with some new friends, some people who had been on the same temple circuit as me -- a couple of German guys and a Brazilian guy -- and we met for dinner and drinks. After the long day, it was really nice to kick back and chat.
Sunday was something else, as I decided to take the bicycle and go alone. That is for part three, and part four is now reserved for dinner last night, which turned out to be one of the crazier experiences I've had here, and that is saying something.
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