A Moto Ride to Angkor Thom

On the way home from my first class at Angkor Thom. If you click on a picture it will open in a new window at full size.

With messy hair and my face and arms covered in a hearty layer of rust colored dust, I stood to face my new students on the first day of class.  Barefoot and nervous I was still reeling from my one hour commute to Angkor Thom Junior High School.  On the trip to Siem Reap I had glimpsed the farms, the small wooden homes,and was able to see the world of rural Cambodia.  But speeding into the countryside on the back of a motorbike with the dust in my face and the sun beating down onto my arms and legs made me realize how far away those first views from a bus window were from the actual feeling and energy that exists among the rice fields, small wooden homes, and back roads.  From the moment we left the traffic and tourists behind, and swung onto an uneven dirt road I knew I was seeing and experiencing this part of Cambodia for the first time.  I tried to capture the length, beauty, scenery, and people of my one hour commute from the back of the motorbike.  I will admit, there was a lot that my camera missed but I will remember; however I do think the pictures tell a part of the story I cannot put into words.  While this ride makes my legs stiff and sore, I already cannot imagine my Cambodian experience without doing this trip twice a week.

I might never grow used to the start of this trip.  With the town of Siem Reap at our backs we pass through the Angkor Wat check-point for free after Ratanak has a few words in Khmer with the security guards who are lounging in the shade waiting to stop tourists who try not to pay the entrance fee.  Angkor Wat has over 2 million visitors a year, and at $20.00 per person per day it is making quite a bit of money.  For the Khmer entrance is free, and often Cambodians will picnic along the moat surrounding Angkor Wat or even go in for a swim.  To reach Angkor Thom District, we must take the road that passes the ancient temples, and as we start forward past the checkpoint one of the guards yells, “Do not look at the temples!”  Instructions that I immediately find impossible to obey.

The outside of Angkor Wat

Riding past Angkor Wat Temple

Angkor Wat Temple is surrounded by a moat, and I have to say on the way home it looks perfect for a swim.

Without a second glance Ratanak is past the most famous of the temples, Angkor Wat.  As we pass through the first archways into Angkor Thom though, he slows down and takes the bends around the temple Bayon at a slower pace.

The archways mark the Angkor Thom section of Angkor Archaeological Park.

Like an army of guards, many statues line the bridge before the arches.  The Devas or gods are on the left, while the Asuras or demons are on the left, and they depict a Hindu creation myth called the Churning of the Milk of the Sea.  While carefully carved in stone, each Deva or Asura has been warn by the elements and has aged in different ways.  Some are darker, greener, less perfect in their shape, and some a missing hands or feet.  They are old men who have seen many people come and go, while they remain like the temples to show those of us less resilient how to stand the test of time.

They reminded me of grumpy old men, then I learned they are grumpy old demons.

Going through the tall and narrow archway, I feel as if I am performing a rite of passage.  The eyes of a giant Buddha follow our approach, and appear to remain trained on our moto, until the second Ratanak beeps in warning and cautiously enters the one lane pathway under the Buddha’s watchful gaze.  However, his face appears benevolent and he appears to welcome us to venture to the other side.

Ben and Molly about to pass under the arch.

Some say that the image atop the arches or Gopura are not of the Buddha or a god but of the Khmer King, Jayavarman VII.

Before leaving the tourists, their tuk-tuks, the elephant rides, monkeys who supposedly do tricks according to Ben, and the temples behind we pass Bayon.  There are 216 Buddha faces carved into the beautiful stone structure, and as one of my bright, young students told me the twenty-five spires on Bayon stand for the twenty-five provinces of Cambodia.

The line of tuk-tuks waiting for tourists to take back to Siem Reap

Monkey crossing

Like the archways of Gopura that come before Bayon, the temple itself was first constructed by King Jayavarman VII, and in addition to the Buddhist influence that covers this intricate and richly decorated temple, the Hindu kings who came later added their own Hindu influence to the carvings and deities depicted on the temple.

Bayon Temple

Bayon Temple

Bayon Temple

It is only a short distance more and the world of tourism and 2 million visitors a year, seems far away.  And it was all with a single turn down a dirt road.  This I thought to myself, is Cambodia.  It is a thought that is a half truth.  Going to Cambodia and only seeing Angkor Wat and Siem Reap would be like only going to the United States and seeing Disney World and Orlando.  Yes, it is America, and it even represents certain aspects of our culture and country but it would be impossible to only visit Orlando and say you understand the United States as a whole.  Siem Reap is the Orlando of Cambodia.  So many visitors go there, and only there however I have discovered from the back of a motorbike that it does not begin to paint the story of the people and current culture here.

The Cambodian countryside is painted more in brown and green than any other colors.  The browns of tree trunks, homes, dirt roads, and harvested but not yet replanted rice fields.  The greens of leaves, grazing pastures for cattle, and rice fields that have just been planted.  A slice of white and a splash of blue appear where the sky peeks through the trees along the road and above cleared fields.

It is natural and refreshing, but the nature beauty has not captured me as much as the people we pass along the road.  The children in their starch school uniforms who wave enthusiastically, the young girl with her younger sibling resting on her hip who carefully watches us go by, and the woman who never pauses in her cooking as trucks, motos, and bicycles pass on the road inches away.  I am only able to tell you in words about the children playing inside and on top of a dicrepid and rusting dump truck, the men playing their games of volleyball in the early evening, and the family of five balancing precariously on a single bicycle as I was unable to capture those images.  But each day a different child or scene strikes me and I hurriedly press snap my camera hoping something appears through the lens.  Here is what I have seen: