Cambodia’s red dirt
Our days in Siem Reap passed quickly. Remork rides with Sothea were a favorite part of every day–quiet, almost chilly morning rides to the temples and refreshing breezes in the chaotic afternoon traffic when we returned to our hotel.
Cambodia has this red dust. It colors the sky with a diffused, hazy pink at dawn and at dusk, and coats everything with a layer of grit. Hundreds of booths selling water, postcards, and snacks line the roads around the temples. One afternoon, we passed a woman sitting in the shade on the roadside, doing needlepoint—in all the heat, humidity, traffic, and dust—-calmly and fastidiously working on that fine material. I wonder if her hands have that sweaty grit, or if the material feels as dirty as my clothes do after just one day.
Ta Prohm and colorful wrists
The Ta Prohm temples are covered in strangler fig and silk cotton trees. French restorers decided to leave it as it was found so tourists could see it as the “finders” first saw it and demonstrate the power of neglect for ruins near a jungle. Work has been done to stabilize the ruins, to build walkways for tourists, and to maintain a look of “apparent neglect”. There are clink-clink-clink sounds of hammering as workers remake designs on concrete and stone amid all those tree roots slowly inching into the old buildings.
We walked through the area in the morning, when it wasn’t yet jam packed with people. In one of the alcoves, a woman sat with baskets of string bracelets, incense, and a donation bowl. I stopped to look and we smiled at each other. I placed money in her bowl and she picked up a yellow woven bracelet and whispered a chant as she tied it to my right wrist, and without letting go of my hand, added a second blessing bracelet of bright red and pink braided over a purple thread. I motioned for permission to take her photo and she nodded yes, and gave my camera a shy smile. Later, as we stopped in a line of people in another alcove, a second blessing lady smiled at my colorful wrists. I smiled back and squatted down to put a donation in her empty bowl. She quietly sang a chant while adding a blue bracelet and then a braided yellow and red one. These women sit there among all the tourists, waiting and watching–and ignored by many who walk by. I wanted to spend a few minutes with these ladies, and get their sweet and simple blessings. It certainly can’t hurt to give a few dollars, spend a moment together in a place so special, and come away with good spirits and colorful wrists.
Overwhelming
We returned to the area where all the remork drivers waited. To pass time in the heat, some drivers napped in hammocks, others sprawled out in their carriages—feet or hands dangling over the sides. Angkor Wat has so many temples and things to see: Ta Keo on a hill, Chau Say, the 200+ faces of Bayon, monkeys, Neak Pean’s ponds, Victory Gate’s row boat men sculptures, elephants in traffic, and the Terrace of the Elephants. We lost ourselves—even with a map. It was like walking through a museum of the finest treasures—where after a few hours, the immenseness floods the senses, and details start to get lost in a mind jumble.
I also found the sheer number of tourists—particularly, the rude tourists—overwhelming. I do realize that a tourist complaining about other tourists is the height of hypocrisy. So, yes, I am part of the problem that many locals complain about when they are overrun with visitors. And I will fully admit that I was getting punchy with the heat and being tired. That said, I have a few suggestions for all of us tourists:
- Be careful when walking with, or waving, a selfie stick in a crowd. Those sticks can bruise someone or crack a camera lens.
- Everyone wants to see the site—not other tourists climbing into the site. Wait your turn, and stay on the designated paths.
- Share the space. Take a few shots and move along. Don’t monopolize a spot for 15 minutes perfecting a pose. We saw so many people climb into temple windows, and pose there for so long that we started to make up names for their poses: “look thoughtful while resting chin on interlaced fingers” or “kick feet up and make sunshine with hands”.
- Learn to say “excuse/pardon me” and “I’m sorry”—in many languages (or any language) for those instances when jostling through a crowd. At the very least, practice acknowledging others’ presence by saying something nice in your own language, smiling, or miming your intentions or apologies when bumping against others or stepping into their photos by accident.
- Don’t patronize the animals. Monkeys should not be teased with food or for photo opportunities—they can bite, scratch, or snatch food or things from you or your child. It’s probably not fun for the monkeys, and it won’t be funny when it happens to you. If you must ride an elephant, look for a conscientious group that respectfully cares for the elephants, that takes care of the environment, and that is owned by locals (not foreign investors).
A most special blessing
Our days in Siem Reap and Angkor Wat consisted of remork rides to the temples in the fresh mornings, lots of walking and seeing sites, and remork rides back to the hotel for a late lunch, poolside. After eating meals like veggie spring rolls or egg and cheese spaghetti, and mojitos, we’d retire to the room to escape the afternoon heat—the wind chimes outside our door gently tolling in the hot breeze.
Early one morning we visited Preah Khan, another strangler tree location that is smaller and less crowded. We roamed the grounds with a handful of others. It was quiet, and mysterious in the still, hazy-mist of morning. We came across a curious pink plastic handbag sitting off the path by a cave-like structure. A few minutes later, we entered a portico clearing, and there sitting in a nook was a tiny, curled up, bald old lady monk in white. Her smiling eyes were cloudy and she had that universal-looking apple face of the very old—toothless and round. She was giving blessings and I was smitten.
Her smile was kind and peaceful as she took my hand and started her chant. She had strong nimble fingers—and bestowed her blessings with three simple strings of white, orange and yellow—knotted only once in the middle. A palm rub, then a gesture like pulling my soul from my heart, a touch to my forehead and then a playful “poof” of breath into my face and a radiant smile. She had this helpless look, but smiling, confident, and at peace—and she looked like a combination of grandmas from all over the world. I heard a guide say he’d been coming there for 10 years and she’d always been there. Precious. To this day, seven months later, those simple strings are still on my left wrist, along with the red yard tied by the boy monk. My treasures from Cambodia.
To see more about our time in Cambodia’s Angkor Wat, please click here.