Arrived 3/10/19
Siem Reap
You may or may not have heard of the town of Siem Reap, but you will almost certainly have heard of the temple on its doorstep: Angkor Wat. Again, what you may or may not know is that this is just the most famous of many temples in the vast Angkor Archeological Park, which is the reason for starting my Cambodian trip here.
I took the Giant Ibis bus from Bangkok. It was supposed to be an 8 hour journey but after waiting for a late passenger at Bangkok and waiting again at the border for one of the passengers we arrived just over an hour late. Having said that, it was the most relaxed bus ride I have ever had: there was far more leg room than normal, the seats reclined a long way, there was wifi and only 8 passengers for 37 seats. The roads in Thailand were good; we even got out of Bangkok without getting stuck in traffic; being a Sunday must have helped. Once in Cambodia progress slowed a little, the skies gradually clouded over and rain came as we drove across the endless flat plain gazing at the rice fields disappearing into the distance. There was the occasional town but remarkably few villages and farms to work all those fields. We had a young Cambodian courier on board to guide us through the immigration processes at the border. He does the trip one way or the other every day, getting maybe a day a month off and is paid $130. He wants to come to work in Europe but getting a visa is very difficult.
I was met at the bus station by a tuk-tuk sent by the guest house. I was struck in the town both by how much water was puddled in the streets and by how muddy it was, until I realised that many of the side streets were unsurfaced and probably poorly drained to boot. My accommodation is a room in the yard of a family house where parents, grandparents, children and in-laws all live. They have two rooms let out to paying guests and provide a service above and beyond anything I have experienced, offering to take me or pick me up from anywhere in town.
After a good night’s sleep and a breakfast that I could not finish, my host took me and two other guests for a ride out into the country through the rice fields. Much of where we drove was under water 20 years ago but a combination of flood defences and reduced water flow in the Mekong river due to projects in China have reduced the size of the still vast Tonle Sap Lake and enabled houses to be built and land to be farmed. It’s not been so good for the fishermen.
In the afternoon my host took me out again, this time on the back of his motor bike. Our first stop was the Artisans Angkor workshops where unskilled young people from the countryside are taught to carve wood and stone, to weave silk, to create silver-coated boxes and beautiful lacquered gold foil pictures. They make their own chisels from recycled motor bike parts! They had an upmarket shop selling their very impressive if rather costly work; knowing I am travelling light again it is easier to resist the temptation to buy something.
Our next stop was altogether more sobering: a memorial/museum dedicated to those who perished at the hands of the Khmer Rouge regime between 1975 and 1979. I was close to tears more than once as I read how the cities were literally emptied, the inhabitants driven into the countryside; the educated, the prosperous, government employees, basically anyone the regime took a dislike to, were imprisoned, tortured and executed; others were worked 16 hours a day and fed starvation rations. 3 million people died at the hands of these madmen before the Vietnamese invaded and drove them out of the cities, and many more died afterwards in fighting that continued sporadically for another 20 years; my host’s parents fled from the invading army and he grew up in a refugee camp on the Thai border until 1991 when he was 12 years old. Many of the perpetrators of these horrors have never been brought to justice; indeed some are in positions of authority even now. Another legacy of the Khmer Rouge wars are the millions of land mines still littering the land. It does not pay to wander off the beaten path in the countryside here.
On a brighter note we drove through a market that lines the road for miles and opens from 3.00 pm to 10.00 pm each day, most of the little stalls selling clothes and food. I was then dropped off in the main tourist area, Pub Street, where there is a good choice of comfortable restaurants offering a variety of foods – including a dish I particularly fancied: spaghetti Bolognese. Well, it’s comforting to have something familiar for a change.
The next day I started my tour of Angkor. It’s not cheap – a 2/3 day ticket costs US $62 (everything here is priced in $ and the ATMs despatch $ or Cambodian Riels, which are normally only used for amounts less than $1). Given the distances involved, especially on the first day, and the heat and humidity, I opted for an air conditioned, comfortable car with a driver rather than bounce around sweating in a tuk-tuk all day. I was glad I did.
After getting my ticket at the busy office with its dozens of booths, the first stop was at Banteay Srei some miles away from the main Angkor area. This privately built temple has some very fine and intricate bas relief carvings which were looted and then recovered shortly after the discovery of the ruins in the early 20th century before restoration work took place. Like most of the ancient temples at Angkor, this one was overgrown by the jungle and in a very poor state when it was found. The technique used to restore them is anastylosis, as I am sure you are aware. Just in case any readers are unfamiliar with the method I will elucidate. Well, it makes a change from hallucinate. First of all an inventory is made of all the stone blocks, which are numbered. The structure is then disassembled and any necessary strengthening or stabilising of the foundations performed. A search is made for any missing blocks, damaged blocks are repaired and then the structure is reassembled using as little new material as possible. The result is usually a building that is safe for visitors but is incomplete; most temples still have piles of blocks heaped up around or within them.
Our next stop was the Land Mine Museum. I needed the tissues here. The museum features 5,000 land mines and other assorted ordnance all decommissioned by one man. He was born, he believes, in 1970; by the time he was 5 years old his parents had been killed by the Khmer Rouge; by the time he was 10 he was a soldier in their army, becoming skilled at laying land mines. After some years he defected and joined the Vietnamese forces fighting the Khmer Rouge. At night, while hunting for food in the forest, he would meet up with old friends from his former forces; they would hunt together and play together and the next day would shoot each other. He knew nothing but war; it was normal life for him. Eventually peace came but thousands of people were still being killed and injured by the anti-personnel land mines, which are designed to maim rather than kill: an injured man creates more of a burden for the enemy than a dead body. He decided to use his knowledge and skills to deactivate mines so that land could be used safely again and innocent people would not be blown up. Using just a stick and a pair of pliers he decommissioned around 50,000 devices until told to stop by the government. He then started an organisation that acquired a de-mining licence and uses safer methods. He also found orphaned and injured children and brought them back to live at his home.
As well as the millions of land mines in the ground there are still untold numbers of unexploded bombs dropped on Cambodia by the Americans in the Vietnam war in an effort to destroy the VietCong supply lines, the Ho Chi Minh trail. They flew 60,000 missions, dropping hundreds of thousands of tons of bombs on a neutral country. In the process they also drove displaced villagers into the hands of the insurgent Khmer Rouge, contributing to the rise of that terrible regime. Since the US pulled out of Vietnam their previously unexploded bombs and land mines have killed 42,000 people and injured another 62,000. In order to reveal the Viet Cong’s hiding places they also sprayed the jungles with 80 million litres of the dioxin-based herbicide agent orange, causing death or long term sickness to 3 million people and 500,000 children with birth defects. With policies like these it is no wonder that the USA is not universally esteemed.
What a terrible history this poor country has – and things are not great for most even now. People I have talked to all agree that the economy is not doing well, visitor numbers, for unknown reasons, are down, corruption is rife and the government has reduced civil liberties and cracks down on dissent. The main opposition leader, who has been out of the country, is due to arrive today; it remains to be seen whether he can make any difference. I hope that, one way or another, life improves for people here.
After reviewing the horrors of the recent past, we moved on to see more of the surviving glories of what must have been a very prosperous era at the temple of Preah Khan.
Then, after a break for lunch, it was on again to see the ponds at Neak Pean, followed by the temples of Ta Som, East Mebon and Pre Rup, each one different and special in its own way.
After being on the go since 8.00 am I was quite glad to get back to my room at 5.00 pm and rest before joining my host Rakanath and hostess Sakha for dinner along with Samuel and Magali. Sakha had prepared a delicious meal of Cambodian food that was enjoyed by all.
If my first day at Angkor had been impressive, the second day surpassed it. The Khmer Empire, which flourished from the 9th to the 15th century, built on a vast scale, their capital at Angkor containing magnificent Hindu and later Buddhist temples and a population of 1,000,000. The reasons for its subsequent neglect and partial abandonment are not entirely clear, but it is thought that intense monsoon rains following a drought caused substantial damage to the waterways and infrastructure, hastening a demise that was already under way due to changes in trade patterns and competition from Ayutthaya in modern day Thailand. Some restoration and rebuilding was carried out in the 16th century, only for the temples to once again be left to the encroaching jungle until international efforts in the latter part of the 20th century to save and preserve the ruins.
My day started at Angkor Thom, the centre of the area and home to the Bayon and Baphuon temples as well as the palace of Phimeanakas. It is approached through four gates, which conveniently, and with great forethought by the builders, are just large enough to accommodate motor vehicles.
The Bayon temple was in some ways my favourite of all the amazing buildings I saw. It resembles nothing so much as a wild cliff of rocky pinnacles with a huge face on each compass point. Absolutely extraordinary. Not to mention bonkers.
Baphuon is rather restrained by comparison; more of a small mountain really, with a beautiful approach along a causeway.
Phimeanakas was not open to climb, just to view.
Outside the walls of Angkor Thom I visited Chai Say Tevoda, Thommanon and Ta Keo temples.
If you have watched the Tomb Raider film you will have seen Ta Prohm. While some restoration work has been done and more is underway, much of this temple has been deliberately left as it was found with trees overtaking the walls. Very romantic and mysterious looking.
My driver gave me little rest. I was no sooner in the cool of the car than out in the heat again to see Banteay Kdei.
The big one was saved for last: Angkor Wat, after nearly 900 years still the largest religious structure in the world. The entire edifice is surrounded by a moat 200 yards wide, within which enormous walls enclose an open space across which a causeway leads another 200 yards or more to the main buildings. Like most of the temples here this consists of a series of levels, the central, highest and steepest one known as the Bakan. What struck me the most was the symmetry and beauty of the whole edifice. Approaching across the causeway I was reminded somewhat of the approach to the Taj Mahal that I saw in another life 46 years ago. Not quite as beautiful, and it would help if they cut down the palm trees that spoil the view and perhaps had reflective ponds. Nevertheless, a stunning construction, all the more amazing for surviving all those centuries
Battambang
I took the afternoon bus from Siem Reap to Battambang (pronounced Battambong). It was scheduled to take 3 hours but 50 miles of bumpy roadworks extended the time to 4 hours. It’s great that the transport infrastructure is being improved, but why dig up all the road at the same time? I was met at the bus station by a tuk-tuk sent by my hotel and at the hotel itself by the manager and some friendly mosquitoes who rapidly acquainted themselves with my ankles.
After my exertions at Angkor and the travelling I took it quietly the next day, arranging accommodation and transport to Phnom Penh and updating the blog, sitting on the stool in the hotel room in the morning (no chair) and then spending the afternoon in a café. Despite a population of 197,000 making it Cambodia’s second largest city (or third, depending on who you believe), Battambang has more of a small town feel to it. Like Siem Reap (population 140,000) there are no high rise buildings; unlike Siem Reap, which has the huge attraction of Angkor nearby, it has few restaurants catering specifically to western tastes, and the local food quality is a bit mixed in my limited experience.
With only one more day in the town I decided to throw caution to the wind and blew a whole $25 on a tuk-tuk tour of the area. It was a good decision; I had an interesting time, starting at the obligatory (for tourists) bamboo railway. Not that the rails are bamboo, you understand – even bamboo isn’t suitable for that; it is just the decking of the little trucks that is made of this versatile material. After the fall of the Khmer Rouge the rolling stock had been destroyed; all that was left was the rails and some wheels and axles. The local people constructed wooden platforms, surfaced them with bamboo, sat them on the axles and powered them with what look like large lawn mower motors. The drive is transferred by a belt to the axles; tightening the belt by using a lever to pull the engine backwards on a slide acts as a simple clutch. The ‘trains’ were used to transport goods and people, but now are just used for tourists, who are whisked along at about 30 mph on a straight, if slightly kinky, track through the rice fields. When you meet a train coming the other way, both stop and one is removed from the track by the simple expedient of lifting the platform off the axles. At the end of the track the platform is lifted up and turned around. We had to stop more than once to pass oncoming trains. On one occasion in the middle of nowhere I couldn’t figure out why there was a bad smell – until I noticed mounds of rubbish half hidden in the bushes. Sadly, dumping trash seems to be quite common.
Our next stop was Mrs Bun’s house, and no, she is not a baker, but, despite being just 100 years old, it is a historic house. There are very few old houses around; it seems people don’t want them; modern houses are easier to maintain. Traditionally, houses were built on stilts with the accommodation upstairs; this gave protection from floods and dangerous animals. Today, some houses are built in this style and some are not. The Bun house is constructed in the traditional way with beautiful hard woods. It was commandeered by the Khmer Rouge and some of it was damaged; more seriously, 100 members of the extended family were killed.
Moving on, I walked across a small suspension bridge above a river where little boys paddled a sinking boat made from plastic bottles. On the far side was a small village with a beautiful temple surrounded by numerous outbuildings.
On again, this time to look at an impoverished Moslem fishing village (most people here are Buddhists). My driver told me that when they cannot afford decent drinking water they use the muddy and polluted river water; he assured me that their stomachs are used to it. Rather them than me, poor things. The land adjacent to the river is fertile, but for a short period every wet season it is flooded.
Next we visited a vineyard where the vines grew in an unusual fashion under cover. Wine was on offer but I felt more need for coffee, which wasn’t available. We then stopped to look at some fruit bats hanging high in a tree before heading for lunch by a little lake. Me, not the bats. On top of a hill by the lake was Banna temple, reputed to be older than Angkor Wat; it was certainly in poorer condition.
Our final stop was some miles away along a very dusty dirt road. Every minute or two a large truck passed by, raising a choking, dense cloud that reduced visibility to a few feet. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes every time. We finally got to the end of it and were glad to dust ourselves down and wash hands and faces. I now had a long climb up a steep hill. Halfway up was the killing cave, so called because the Khmer Rouge killed an estimated 10 to 20,000 people by throwing them off a cliff into the cave. Outside was a grim life size tableau of victims being tortured and executed. Inside was a large glass cabinet full of skulls. Awful. I didn’t linger.
At the top of the hill was a beautiful temple and marvellous views of the surrounding and mostly very flat countryside. Rather like the Somerset Levels but bigger. And with more rice.
Returning to the base of the hill I took a seat beside the road and awaited one of nature’s special spectacles: the nightly emergence of up to a million bats from a cave in the cliff, out to hunt food until dawn. They didn’t disappoint, showing up right on cue, almost as though they knew that I, along with hundreds of other people, was waiting. The fly out lasts for 30 to 40 minutes apparently, but after 10 I had seen enough and my tuk-tuk took me back into Battambang to hunt for my own food that evening.
Phnom Penh
My bus from Battambang left at 9.00 am and was due to arrive in Phnom Penh at 3.00 pm. Given the experience of my previous bus rides I fully expected to be at least an hour late, but our driver rapidly made it clear that he had other ideas; he was a man in a hurry. On a two lane road, busy with trucks, cars, slow motor cyclists, slower tuk-tuks, and even slower agricultural trailers, he rarely did less than 60 or 70 mph when he had a clear run, and frequently when he hadn’t, tearing past roadside stalls just feet away. It was possible to overtake if you were adventurous, and he was very adventurous, often causing me and my fellow passengers to close our eyes and offer silent prayers as he raced towards oncoming lorries, diving back to safety at the last moment. Towns were more of a challenge, but judicious use of the horn and a good amount of swerving around obstacles minimised any loss of speed. Like the road from Siem Reap, this road too was being prepared for widening, but work had not advanced enough to cause much disruption, not that our driver would have slowed anyway. This all tended to fray the nerves somewhat, but on the plus side we did arrive in one piece an hour ahead of schedule.
Cambodia has 28 public holidays a year and by an excellent piece of planning, otherwise known as sheer chance, I had arrived in the middle of one of the biggest of them all, the 3 day water festival. This celebrates the end of the rainy season and a unique natural event: the reversal of the flow of the Tonle Sap river, which joins the Mekong at Phnom Penh. The Tonle Sap is a big river, but the Mekong is a mighty river and during the wet season its enormous flow of water overwhelms the Tonle Sap, forcing it to flow upstream 100 miles to the Tonle Sap Lake. Now the waters have subsided and the river flows downstream again.
This event is celebrated by holding dragon boat races on the Tonle Sap. If you think the Oxford versus Cambridge boat race is a spectacle you should see this. There are hundreds of boats, each crewed by up to 60 or more paddlers wearing their chosen bright colour, racing is continuous and lasts for the three days. At any one time two boats may be paddling furiously past neck and neck centre stream, while a couple of hundred yards back the next two are already on their way and close to shore the finished boats are making their way back upstream, all accompanied by shouting and whistling and a manic commentary blasting out from speakers on every lamppost.
As darkness falls at 6.00 pm fireworks light up the sky and brightly lit floating tableaux glide up the river. Think the Somerset night carnivals, albeit with fewer floats. (Although, as they are on boats, maybe there are more floats – anyway, you know what I mean.) Once that is over the night hots up as people throng to the open air music stages and the fairground, each stall competing to be louder than the one next to it. Cambodians like their music at high volume: they are not satisfied until you can feel it as much as hear it.
Last year 4.5 million people came for the festival. It may be a similar number this year, I don’t know, but there are certainly a lot of visitors here. I have to say I have been impressed by the organisation; many streets are closed to motor traffic, pedestrian access flows well for the most part, there are large numbers of armed police and soldiers in evidence but the whole event has a relaxed atmosphere with many families picnicking on the lawns and pavements. Just outside the closed off area the traffic becomes gridlocked in the evening as a fresh influx of visitors arrives for the nightly entertainment, some by car, lots by tuk-tuk but most on motor bikes that are parked up to five deep on the roads and pavements. The noise is relentless. Fortunately my hotel is inside the traffic-free area and well insulated; only the thumping bass from the pop groups penetrates and occasionally shakes the windows.
Of course, Phnom Penh has sights other than the festival. Two that feature on every tour are related to the Khmer Rouge. One is Cheung Ek, the largest of Cambodia’s many killing fields, where 17,000 people were hacked to death with spades. The other is Toul Sleng, the school that was converted into the S-21 political prison; untold numbers were tortured to death here and torture tools are still on display. It is described as ‘not for the squeamish’. I am afraid I am very squeamish; things like this play on my mind and, while not wishing to forget the terrible things that happened here, I did not want to immerse myself in them either. I looked elsewhere for more uplifting sites from the more remote past.
In 1373 a lady named Penh built an artificial hill with a temple on top to house holy relics. The Khmer word for hill is phnom, so the hill was called Phnom Don Penh and the temple was called Wat Phnom. When in 1434 the king decided to build a city centred on the temple it was called Phnom Don Penh, soon abbreviated to Phnom Penh. The hill and the temple are still here and make a pleasant oasis of relative peace, despite the pop group playing in the grounds below. There were also men demonstrating extraordinary skill in a game that had them kick a kind of heavy shuttlecock behind their backs, passing it from person to person. It was fascinating to watch how they kept it in the air.
I also bravely visited the National Museum, a very attractive building with a delightful garden in the centre. Actually, the garden was the part I liked best. Inside was a large collection of fine statues showing the development of styles from pre- to post-Angkorian times. The trouble was they were all pretty similar with any changes being quite subtle. For a philistine like me it was a case of you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. There was also, however, the longest hand-woven scarf in the world, proudly made in Cambodia. It was very impressive, although quite how you would wear a scarf over 1000 m long I don’t know.
A few blocks away is the central market, centred on a big art deco dome built in 1937. I was expecting rather more beauty than I found in the building, which seemed to have little that I think of as art deco.
Rather more beautiful is the Royal Palace, not that we saw any of the accommodation, just what appeared to be a throne room hung with tasteful chandeliers. I imagined humble subjects walking the length of the hall to bow before the king seated on his throne at the far end. In an adjoining complex is the Temple of the Emerald Buddha, so called because it contains a statue of Buddha made from 90 kg of gold and encrusted with 2086 diamonds. As if that wasn’t enough, the entire floor is covered with 5000 silver tiles weighing a total 5 tons, giving the building its alternative name of the Silver Pagoda, and the walls are lined with cabinets full of gold and silver miniature Buddhas. I guess if you are wealthy you demonstrate your devotion by donating such items. Nice to let the neighbours know how stinking rich you are as well. Outbuildings had various interesting displays, including dance costumes and hundreds of gold and silver elephants shaped like piggy banks.
As I leave Cambodia and head for Vietnam the opposition leader has not arrived. He is not permitted to fly here and neighbouring countries are all signed up to an agreement whereby they do not interfere in the politics of their neighbours, so they will not let him fly there either. Meanwhile the deputy opposition leader has been arrested in Malaysia and 100 ‘plotters’ arrested here. It seems the government brooks no opposition from people who will ‘betray their country, damage the economy and destroy the peace.’ That sounds reasonable, but no-one I have spoken to agrees with that analysis. Our politics in the UK may be a little messy at the moment, and we may or may not approve of the government’s policies, but at least we get to vote in free and fair elections. Lucky us.
Rob's Roads 