Cambodia Revisited

Am I allowed to claim nostalgia for a place I visited less than a year ago? Somehow it feels more like a lifetime despite remembering it so well. I love Cambodia. I'm not even sure why. Perhaps it's because it's the place I started my Asian adventure and I was so happy to be there. I always remember places I was truly happy with deep fondness. It was only two weeks, filled mostly with class and homework, but I loved every minute of my time in Cambodia. On my second trip there, I didn't love every minute but I loved most of them.

Cambodia is a warm, welcoming country where everybody has a smile to share and time flows easily, almost gently. Even in Phnom Penh, the capital and busiest, loudest part of the country, I felt lazy and relaxed. Siem Reap, however, was where I felt the most mellow and comfortable, as if the city wrapped around me like a cozy blanket and encouraged me to let life be without trying to control it for a bit. While I can be lazy, often to shameful extents, I also tend to carry my stress around, heavy and tight in my shoulders, and I am forever dwelling in the cave of my mind, thoughts lining the walls and compressing the air. Siem Reap, the gateway to Angkor Wat and a host of other ancient temples, is a tourist town. Shops full of trinkets and t-shirts cross the city like a patchwork quilt, interwoven with countless western-oriented restaurants, cafes, massage parlors and travel agencies. You can book tours virtually everywhere and tuk tuk drivers line the streets, ready to take you anywhere you want to go. In the midst of this rampant tourism and consumerism, I found myself full of laziness, goodwill and joy. There is no explanation for this; I can't explain it at all. But I loved it, brimming with happiness and calm, smiling as easily and effortlessly as the Khmer people around me.

It helped, of course, that I visited the famous temples in the area again. I'd seen them on my last stay but Emily hadn't and I believe that no trip to Southeast Asia is complete without seeing at least Angkor Wat, Bayon and Ta Prohm. If you've been to this corner of the world and missed these temples, I'm sorry to tell you that your trip was a failure and you need to do it again. End of discussion.

The temples in this region are magnificent, majestic wonders. I can't begin to describe their magnitude and their beauty. Stepping into them is like being transported to the most serene, peaceful, inspiring place in time. The time might be a moment in your life but it feels like so much more, as if you've traveled through it, your feet standing in the past, present and future all at once.

Some people buy week-long passes and visit the temples every day. Emily and I did eight hours one day, and while I'm sure we missed a lot, it felt like a good amount of time for us. We spent the day riding around in a lavender tuk tuk with an English-speaking guide and walking through the mystical, almost supernatural temples. As I've already said, words aren't very useful or helpful in describing the temples; they are breathtaking and words, which I love deeply and dearly, fail me. Here, instead, are some of the pictures I took. They don't capture the feelings or the magical air of the temples, but some of them are pretty. My advice is to go see them for yourselves; you won't regret it. I know they will remain one of the highlights of my life.

Angkor Wat at sunrise.

One of thousands of detailed, preserved carvings in the stone at Angkor Wat.

Another reflecting pool picture. This one of Bayon.

Happy and serious Buddhas rise up over all of Bayon. They make me smile just to look at them.

Ta Prohm (or the Tomb Raider temple).

Ta Prohm again.

In Siem Reap, we succumbed to consumerism and bought many wonderful, pretty things at the markets. Then we jostled along to Phnom Penh where we didn't do much of anything other than visit the Killing Fields, the tragic site where the Khmer Rouge killed thousands of Cambodian people from 1975-79. It is now a monument to those who suffered and died during the genocidal reign of Pol-Pot. In the center is a temple that was built to house all the skulls and bones excavated from the mass graves and there is a museum that details the atrocities that occurred there and elsewhere in the country during the time. It is a horrible, bone-chilling place, but an important part of Khmer history and something I felt was important to see.

After the capital we still had a few days left so we boarded another packed bus and bounced along to Kampot, a small town near the southern border of Vietnam. There we booked a countryside tour that consisted of being driven around in a tuk tuk by a driver who spoke no English and stopping occasionally to look at things we had no information on. The first stop was probably the most hilarious. We got out at a long, wooden building surrounded by fields of water. Inside were enormous piles of salt. That was it. Our driver scooped some up in his hands to make sure we understood what it was, I took a picture, and then we left.

Salt.

The next stop was a little better. Two kids who spoke excellent English attached themselves to us and took us on a tour through a cave. Bo and Lin, about nine and seven respectively (though Lin told me she was 24 after she asked me how hold I was and gleefully declared herself older than me), were delightful, energetic kids, full of information and questions. It was downpouring but they led us up the cliff-side to the cave, soaking wet, and then through the darkness, Lin winding her flashlight so we could see and Bo pointing out all the shapes in the rocks. They even convinced us to crawl, climb, stumble and splash down the dark alternate exit. We were muddy but laughing, a little shocked to be uninjured when we squeezed through the opening at the end.

The rest of the tour wasn't nearly as fun as that bit. We also went to a pepper farm and ate lunch along the sidewalk at a beach in nearby Kep. It rained the whole time and I still don't know anything about Kampot.

Pepper.

Crabs actually scuttled across the streets miles away from the beach. It was kind of surreal.

Our whirlwind adventure ended at 2:45 Sunday morning after a hellacious 17 hour bus ride from Kampot to Saigon. We went from a shuttle bus that took us across the border to a local bus that picked up Vietnamese people every 15 minutes, packing them into the aisles with their babies and their bags, to a bus station where we were left without information for two and a half hours only to get on another bus that eventually got us into Saigon in the wee hours of the morning after crossing a river on a ferry and picking up even more Vietnamese people that there were no seats for. To say we were swindled by the guy who sold us the bus tickets is going too easy on him. Accompanying us on this journey were three Austrian guys who were even more out of their depth than we were. At least Emily and I were privy to how Vietnamese buses work when they're not clearly for tourists, which is what we thought we'd bought, especially because they were so expensive. We were not pleased.

I'm even less pleased now though because Emily leaves for home tomorrow. I will miss her when she's gone. We had an amazing month of travel and adventure that I will never forget. I will always be thankful for her deciding to come to Saigon to teach as well. Having her here has made my life a lot more pleasant and fun. It's good to have friends. Thanks Emily.

Be sure to check out her blog to get the other side of this story: http://neitherthere.wordpress.com/

Up next: I'm off to Thailand where I'll be visiting friends and hopefully hitting up a resort and lazing on the beach, so stick around. My adventure isn't over yet.