http://RealAdventures.com/vacations/184950_articles-cambodia-other.htm Check out some of the recently updated travel & vacation listings on RealAdventures. Be inspired, go explore! en-us Sun, 29 Nov 2009 03:55:32 GMT Sun, 29 Nov 2009 03:55:32 GMT http://RealAdventures.com http://RealAdventures.com/vacations/184950_articles-cambodia-other.htm 100 100 http://RealAdventures.com/listings/1024019_A-Cambodian-Journey-Part-5 http://RealAdventures.com/listings/1024019_A-Cambodian-Journey-Part-5 Articles Cambodia Wed, 13 Jun 2007 00:06:00 Follow Andy Brouwer for a day as traverses the sacred mountain of Phnom Kulen. -
Follow Andy Brouwer for a day as traverses the sacred mountain of Phnom Kulen.


Armed with a large picnic, Sok Thea, our driver Rang and myself headed off in our sturdy pickup truck through the Angkor complex and out to the small village market next to Srah Srang lake to collect our Khmer companions for the day's outing to the sacred mountain of Phnom Kulen. I'd invited an old friend, Noung, a teenage souvenir seller from Angkor Wat, together with her elder sister Sokchata, brother Plon and cousin Srey as a thank you for the hospitality and generosity she'd shown me on both this and my last visit in March 1998. Whilst Thea and I afforded ourselves the luxury of seats in the front cab, our friends cheerfully climbed into the opentop rear of the pickup for the ninety minute drive to the mountain park.

Our first obstacle was the appalling road surface between Pradak village and the temple of Banteay Srei, some 30 kilometres from Siem Reap. In the back of the truck, our companions were unceremoniously shunted from side to side as Rang struggled manfully to negotiate a road inundated with large potholes and craters. We took a right fork opposite the temple entrance and the road improved almost immediately although a couple of craters were as deep as the truck itself. Houses were sparse and recent logging of the surrounding forest was evident before we pulled up at the entrance barrier at the foot of the Kulen mountain escarpment. Our arrival sparked no more than a glimmer of interest from the cardplaying army guards on duty, who demanded 5,000 riel for each Khmer passenger and an exorbitant $20 for the foreigner in the front seat. I understand the Kulen park is run by a group headed by top local officials and they have autonomy in fixing the admission price, much to the government's annoyance.

Rang's skills as a driver were again put to the test on the eight kilometre drive to the top of the plateau. Recent rains and logging trucks had left the narrow, winding unsealed road deeply rutted and bumpy and everyone was more than a little happy when the rollercoaster ride ended on arrival at a makeshift parking area. Nearby, a tatty collection of stalls boasted inediblelooking food and a few cans of drink, while high volume chanting by a monk asking for donations over an inordinately loud tannoy system didn't bode too well for the rest of the park's facilities. Historically, Phnom Kulen is revered amongst all Cambodians as a sacred place of pilgrimage and is usually busy with hordes of locals at weekends. It was the site, then known as Mount Mahendraparvata, that Jayavarman II chose in 802 to proclaim himself a divine universal ruler and marked the beginning of the Angkor period in Khmer history. A former Khmer Rouge stronghold for the last twenty years, it was heavily mined and out of bounds until a series of defections to the government side in 1998 allowed locals and tourists the opportunity to visit this ancient site once more.

Leaving the chanting monk behind us, we walked onto the plateau and just a few metres into a wooded area, a wobbly wooden bridge across a fastflowing river signalled the site of some of Kulen's spectacular riverbed rock carvings. With the sun streaming through the forest canopy, we took off our shoes to paddle in the crystalclear water, known as the 'River of a Thousand Lingas,' to inspect the distinctive series of sandstone lingas and carvings of Shiva, Krishna and other ancient inscriptions at close quarters. Legend suggests that the lingas fertilize the water which in turn flows down to irrigate the ricefields of the Angkor floodplain.

After a short moto ride, we arrived at another collection of stalls selling herbs and roots used in traditional medicine and a second monk using a handheld microphone to appeal for funds. This time it was to help with the upkeep of Preah Ang Thom, a Buddhist temple perched on top of one of a number of giant boulders and housing a massive 17metre long reclining Buddha carved out of solid rock. We took off our shoes as we climbed the stairs to the temple, admiring the spectacular views of the forest canopy and surrounding countryside below. The brightlypainted carving, believed to date from the 11th century, is surrounded by prayer flags, with a series of twelve carved faces of disciples at its base and hundreds of visitors signatures, carved in the rock at the back of the statue. A Khmer family were making an offering of incense sticks as we left and more families passed us on the stairs with the same intention. Thea then suggested we take a narrow trail into the forest to visit the home of a hermit monk, who showed us his tiny, bare shelter wedged under another large boulder and nearby, a painted Buddha and naga carving and a collection of one hundred identical statues, which he was in charge of. Returning briefly to the foot of Preah Ang Thom, we were reunited with the rest of our small group and made our way along a twisting path towards a series of waterfalls and a picnic area. As I spotted the river through the trees, an ancient laterite temple, called Teck Tlak and dating from the ninth century, also caught my eye on the righthand side of the path and despite the everpresent threat of landmines, I tentatively explored the ruins before crossing the log bridge over the river.

A dozen covered wooden platforms and a few food stalls overlook the river, which on closer inspection revealed more extraordinary riverbed rock carvings. Even I could identify Vishnu reclining on the serpent Ananta and also sat on a throne holding four weapons, with his wife Lakshmi at his feet. The river then falls over a series of small rapids where Khmer families were bathing, most of them fully clothed, before it disappears from view over a dramatic 35metre waterfall (below). We commandeered one of the picnic platforms to eat our packed lunch of curried chicken, amok fish, vegetables and rice before carefully tackling a tricky sloping path that led down to the base of the larger waterfall. Surrounded by jungle, the whole scene looked pretty impressive and we posed for photos before retracing our steps up to the picnic area and along a rubbishstrewn path back to the car park.

On another lower part of the Kulen mountain range, tourists can now visit an area known as Kbal Spean, containing more underwater and partially submerged riverbed rock carvings, as well as waterfalls amid some beautifully forested lowland. The pictures that I've seen of the engravings are striking but its at least a halfday trip from Siem Reap and without enough time to include it on this occasion, I will pencil it in for a future visit.

It took us forty minutes to wind our way down the mountain and another two hours before we reached Noung's home village of Rahal, next to the lake at Srah Srang. To round off an enjoyable day, Thea and I accepted an invitation to visit their home and to meet her grandparents and siblings (their parents were busy working in their rice field not far from Phnom Kulen). Twelve family members live and sleep in a traditional oneroomed bamboo shack, built on stilts. The room was sparsely decorated with framed photographs of both Noung and Sokchata and in a dark corner was the family's only visible luxury item, a batterypowered black and white tv set, next to a small shrine. As we reemerged, it seemed that most of the village had gathered at the foot of the steps leading to the house to catch a glimpse of the visiting stranger, still a rare occurrence despite the village's close proximity to some of Angkor's major monuments. As they willingly do everywhere, the youngest children posed for some pictures before I said my goodbyes to Noung and her family for the final time. The day's outing had been a major success, as had the previous day's visit to the temple of Banteay Srei with the same family group, and I'm grateful to them and the irrepressible Sok Thea for their wonderful company that made my visit to Siem Reap and Angkor so enjoyable.

A Cambodian Journey Part 1
A Cambodian Journey Part 2
A Cambodian Journey Part 3
A Cambodian Journey Part 4
A Cambodian Journey Part 5
A Cambodian Journey Part 6
A Cambodian Journey Part 7

Provided By Andy Brouwer's Cambodia Tales
Details & Reservations: A Cambodian Journey Part 5
RealAdventures | Cambodia Articles

]]> http://RealAdventures.com/listings/1024020_A-Cambodian-Journey-Part-6 http://RealAdventures.com/listings/1024020_A-Cambodian-Journey-Part-6 Articles Cambodia Sat, 07 Jul 2001 00:07:00 Follow Andy Brouwer as he treks through the remote temple of Beng Mealea. -
Follow Andy Brouwer as he treks through the remote temple of Beng Mealea.


Its not often you get an opportunity to seek out and discover a new temple, still very much in its natural state. The renowned Ta Prohm at Angkor gives the visitor a glimpse of what to expect, but in reality it bears little resemblance to the real thing. For my last day in Siem Reap, a Khmer friend and fellow adventurer, Sok Thea suggested breaking new ground by visiting the temple of Beng Mealea, more than 40 kilometres east of the main Angkor complex. Abandoned for years due to the civil war and the presence of the Khmer Rouge, and left to the mercy of Mother Nature, the temple is a contemporary of Angkor Wat in its age and floor plan but sees almost no visitors whatsoever. It proved to be one of the highlights of my whole trip.

The day's adventures began at 7am when Thea and our two motodrivers, In Sokea and Pov Lom collected me from the Freedom Hotel. We stopped at the market to buy some bread and water to complement our fried rice and chicken and then we were on our way, east along Route 6 towards Roluos and beyond. The highway was busy with pickup trucks full to overflowing with goods and passengers kicking up blinding dust until we came to a traffic jam at a broken bridge. Resourceful as ever, Thea motioned us to the front and we quickly sneaked our Honda Dream bikes over a hastilyarranged but shaky plank of wood across the gaping ravine. After an hour, we stopped at Damdek market to buy a few more provisions (cigarettes and sugar) and left the main highway. Our new route was of the red clay variety but in reasonable condition and we made good time along the palm treelined and heavily populated track. As the houses thinned out the road became progressively worse until we were forced to either dismount to ford flooded parts of the track or balance precariously on recentlyerected plank bridges, where small boys requested a few hundred riel to cross. It was just passable by moto but the recent rains had made it impossible for anything other than a durable fourwheel drive vehicle to make the same trip.

The valuable work of the British demining charity HALO Trust was evident as we finally reached the village of Beng Mealea at 10am. A broken naga head and a small ruined bridge signal led we were close to the temple complex, so we stopped to ask the whereabouts of the temple's conservator, Chheng Chhun, who quickly appeared and was obviously pleased that we'd followed the correct protocol and requested his guidance. We were also joined by a scruffylooking group of five soldiers, one of which, the youngest, was carrying an AK47. Chhun suggested they tag along to ensure our safety. We'd arrived at the southern causeway of the massive temple complex, a rival to the monumental scale of its sister temple Angkor Wat but on a single rather than pyramidal level. Built in the late11th and mid12th century under the rule of King Suryavarman II, Beng Mealea has been out of bounds to all but the most adventurous traveller until very recently, so our excitement was mounting as we crossed the 45 metrewide moat and walked along the overgrown southern causeway towards the temple, flanked by decorated naga heads in good condition and a broken balustrade, although our goal was hidden from view by the dense vegetation.

The bridge and cruciform terrace in front of the blocked southern entrance was in ruins and gave us a foretaste of what the remainder of the temple would be like. We walked fifty metres to a gap in the eastern enclosure wall and following the sprightly 70 yearold Chhun, we climbed over the broken outer wall, hopping across fallen sandstone blocks, scrambling along ledges and clambering through small passageways to take a breather on the top of an inner gallery. All around us, the vegetation had taken a firm stranglehold on the walls and buildings and it was almost impossible to make out the formal structure of the temple. What we do know is that Beng Mealea is composed of three large enclosing walls, each with four gopuras (or entry towers), as well as cloisters, corner pavilions, courtyards, galleries and library buildings.

I was expecting to see little more than ruins but substantial areas remain intact, whilst others are little more than a chaos of fallen debris overgrown with vines, roots and greenery. Chhun led us, and our five army guardians, on a circuitous route, our path often blocked by fallen masonry, but there was plenty to see with decorated lintels, frontons, cornices and apsara carvings in abundance and galleries, supported on one side by a sturdy back wall and on the other by a row of pillars as can be found at Angkor Wat and the Bayon, although the basreliefs much in evidence at these temples, are absent at Beng Mealea. Skirting around the collapsed main sanctuary, we exited the temple by the overgrown eastern causeway so we could visit the three royal pools, full of water but covered with lotus and water lilies, at Srah Keo, Srah Baykriem and Srah Svay Kong. As we were inspecting one pool, allegedly the home of a crocodile, two oxcarts appeared out of the forest and Thea excitedly jumped onto the last one for a ride back to the southern entrance, where we rested and shared our bread, sugar and cigarettes with Chhun and the others to thank them for their company.

Our temple tour had lasted just under two hours and I was exhausted. The heat inside the temple complex was stifling and the everpresent red ants had feasted on my ankles but the experience was memorable and not to be missed for anything. The dense vegetation had made it almost impossible to take any meaningful photographs but the feeling of discovery was quite overwhelming and perhaps akin to what Henri Mouhot must've experienced in the middle of the 19th century on seeing Angkor for the first time. We weren't the first to visit Beng Mealea, but it certainly felt like it.

We left a little before midday and retraced our steps back towards Route 6 and Siem Reap. Before we reached the populated stretch of track and after negotiating the flooded parts of the route, we stopped to devour our fried rice and chicken at a village meeting house erected by the NGO, Carere. For dessert we played a game of foot shuttlecock with our drivers, before continuing on our way, acknowledging the waves and shouts of the adults and children, still unused to seeing a foreigner in their neck of the woods. At the Roluos turnoff, we took a right fork along a new road for at least five kilometres and as Phnom Bok loomed large in the foreground, veered onto an unmarked track towards our second destination of the day, the 11th century temple ruin of Chau Srei Vibol.

Again, the route was bumpy and potholed and at times, the track had been washed away by the rains. We negotiated the flooded parts, passed through tiny hamlets and groups of waving villagers and across a broken sandstone naga bridge at Spean Thmor, before arriving at an active pagoda, Wat Trach, and the laterite outer wall of the temple. Thea and myself walked up the hill, similar to Phnom Bakheng but not nearly as steep, to the ruined temple buildings at the top, housed alongside the shell of a modern temple, where orangerobed monks from the wat below were constructing a roof.

At least three major sandstone structures, a sanctuary and two libraries, are easily identifiable with decorative carvings on the doorways and cornices and a couple of broken lions flank the steep eastern entrance gate. We walked around the outer wall to the southern and western gopuras and outbuildings with some damaged lintels and frontons before returning to our motos where the wat's head monk was waiting to offer us fresh coconut milk. I couldn't resist a photo as we thanked him for his generosity and continued our journey back to Siem Reap, stopping briefly at Chbar Chin, where the laterite foundations of an Angkorean temple form the base of a small Buddhist wat, arriving back at the hotel at 5pm. Ten hours on the back of a moto and I was in desperate need of a hot bath, but the day had been a major success and one to remember for a long time to come.

A Cambodian Journey Part 1
A Cambodian Journey Part 2
A Cambodian Journey Part 3
A Cambodian Journey Part 4
A Cambodian Journey Part 5
A Cambodian Journey Part 6
A Cambodian Journey Part 7

Provided By Andy Brouwer's Cambodia Tales
Details & Reservations: A Cambodian Journey Part 6
RealAdventures | Cambodia Articles

]]> http://RealAdventures.com/listings/1024014_A-Cambodian-Journey-Part-1 http://RealAdventures.com/listings/1024014_A-Cambodian-Journey-Part-1 Articles Cambodia Tue, 27 Mar 2001 00:03:00 Follow Cambophile Andy Brouwer as he treks through a country as yet unspoiled by tourists. -
Follow Cambophile Andy Brouwer as he treks through a country as yet unspoiled by tourists.


My second day in Phnom Penh began with Choy, my motodub, ferrying me over the Japanese Bridge and onto one of my favourite spots, the Chrouy Changva Peninsula. The road alongside the Tonle Sap river was bumpy and busy with locals going about their business and schoolchildren filing towards home. Our first stop was at Wat Botiyarap, where a friendly young monk invited us into the temple to inspect the colourful wall murals showing popular versions of the Buddha's life. As I removed my shoes, he opened some of the side doors to let in the sunlight and explained in broken English about the early life of the Buddha, who was known as Siddhartha Gautama before he gained enlightenment. It was about now that I silently scolded myself for forgetting to bring my copy of Ray Zepp's excellent guidebook on Phnom Penh's wats, 'A Field Guide to Cambodian Pagodas'.

After taking a few photographs, I thanked the monk for his time, gave him a small donation and moved onto the largest wat on the peninsular, Wat Prachum Sakor. The houses either side of the track leading to the temple were surrounded by water following recent rains, as we drove into the temple's extensive grounds. Two giant Banyan trees occupy a prominent place upon entry and amongst their branches, a group of monkeys keenly watched our every move. In the shadow of the trees, two long wooden boats used in the recent water festival races on the nearby Tonle Sap, were housed in a covered shed and nearby, were a series of colourful but unusual statues, one of which depicted the young Buddha riding in his chariot. The pagoda itself was founded as long ago as 1880, although the paintings inside the darkened vihara are much more recent. A collection of quality paintings lining the walls of the monk's quarters were however, much more visible.

At the end of the riverside track, the temple built in the shape of a boat was padlocked shut and devoid of any sign of life. We continued our journey along the quieter Mekong side of the peninsular, stopping to watch a few small boats struggling against the strong current, driving past a deserted Cham mosque and a couple of factories from where the heavy duty lorries have cut up the track badly. Making our way back onto the main highway, Route 6, we turned right past the numerous popular Khmer restaurants at Prek Leap and onto the colourful temple at Khien Klaing, after a quick diversion to the VVAF (Vietnam Veterans of America Foundation) rehabilitation centre for disabled landmine victims. The vital work of the VVAF deserves closer inspection, which I plan to do on my next visit to Cambodia.

We returned to town for lunch and to retrieve Ray Zepp's guidebook from my hotel room, in preparation for an afternoon of watwatching. I'd visited quite a few of the capital's wats on previous trips, so this was an opportunity to see a few of the less popular ones. Our first port of call was Wat Srachak, a pagoda built in the early 1990s, with a series of statues outside and a set of elaborate and unusual wall paintings inside the vihara. Next were two temples close together, Wat Putgosachar and Wat Piphoat Rangsey, located near the Japanese Bridge. In the first, an elderly monk proudly showed us the pagoda's murals, still looking as fresh as the day they were painted, whilst Piphoat Rangsey is a temple dating from the 1870s and has a series of older and more recent paintings side by side. Heading out along the airport road, we turned right and crossed the main railway lines towards the far side of Boeung Kak lake. The area was pretty rundown, the road was extremely bumpy and the locals seemed a little surprised to see me when we arrived at the gates of the pagoda of Wat Neak Kawann. This temple stands very tall but a brief encounter with some belligerent teenagers sitting on the steps leading to the entrance and indulging in what has become an increasing problem amongst the city's youths of gluesniffing, meant I only had time to quickly scan the series of wall paintings that are dedicated to the life of Buddha and to other legends and morality tales. As we exited the temple, a group of younger children restored my good humour and delighted in my gifts of balloons and other knickknacks. Choy, my motodub, was keen to show me the next temple on our itinerary, as it was his local wat and featured a fascinating collection of wall murals, both inside and outside the vihara, as well as a series of colourful statues. He called it Wat Twai Donkum but its also known as Wat Monkolwan. However, we didn't stay long and moved quickly on towards the Olympic Stadium area of the city.

Best known as the headquarters of Preah Maha Ghosananda and his Dhammayietra peace marches, Wat Sampeou Meas was padlocked shut and noone could find the key, so we moved swiftly onto the other side of the Olympic market and the temple at Wat Preah Put. This has a newlybuilt vihara with brilliantlycoloured paintings inside but it was the school in the temple grounds that caught our attention. As we arrived, the children were at play and once they'd spotted me, I was literally mobbed and playfully forced into a game of football with the boys and skipping with the girls. At one stage, surrounded by dozens of cheering children, the noise was deafening and trying to take a few pictures was near impossible, but it was great fun. The school bell restored some order as the youngsters filed back into their classes and we took our leave, heading for the landmine and polio disabled workshops of Wat Than on Norodom Boulevard.

Wat Than is home to a successful vocational training program, assisted by the Catholic Maryknoll Mission, aimed at helping to reintegrate disabled Cambodians back into their society in a dignified way. I met Hay Kim Tha, the workshop and showroom coordinator, and he accompanied me around the separate silk weaving, tailoring, carpentry and computer workshops. Since the program began in 1991, the core skills that the students learn are supplemented by basic business skills, English language tuition and health education, whilst the furniture, clothing and handicrafts they produce are sold through the onsite showroom and other outlets, including Baray Tukvill in Siem Reap. Tha has also established export opportunities in a number of countries, usually through contact with visiting tourists impressed by the high standard of workmanship they've encountered and I recommend that any visitor to Phnom Penh takes time out to stop at Wat Than and support this very worthy cause.

As we approached late afternoon, Choy suggested a visit to a pagoda with a gigantic concrete Buddha under construction, a few kilometres over the Chbam Pao bridge and along the road leading to Vietnam. I'd stopped briefly at the temple the name of which escapes me back in March 1998 and was keen to see what progress had been made since. As it turned out, the Buddha was still obscured by scaffolding poles and the main vihara was shut but the children's library below was open and I introduced myself to a group in their late teens, who were idling away their time at an old, battered piano. As is the pattern of these encounters, I was asked all the usual questions, ie. name, age, job, marital status, family, length of stay, and so on before we played a game of barefoot shuttlecock inside the library. Then Chay, the quietest of the group, picked up his flute and played a lovely melodic tune that everyone responded to with rapturous applause. His beaming smile said it all. My new acquaintances then lined up for a group photograph and we said our goodbyes, sorry to leave such a friendly bunch of individuals. On our return to Phnom Penh, we stopped briefly at Chbam Pao market for a quick look around and to allow Choy to bargain hard for the cheapest possible sharetaxi ride to his home village the following week. He intended to visit his parents for the first time since moving to the city over a year before. It was dark by the time we arrived back at the Walkabout Hotel and I settled for an early night, after a bite to eat at the hotel's busy bar, with an early start scheduled for the following morning.

I could barely keep my eyes open after a restless night's sleep when Choy appeared, bright eyed and beaming, in the hotel lobby at 7am. A brief stop near the Central Market for petrol and to check the times of the Ho Wah Genting bus to Kompong Cham, and we were then on our way out of the city, through Takhmau for a return visit to Tonle Bati and Phnom Chisor. Noticeable as we passed through Takhmau were the long queues of men and women waiting outside the garment and cement factories, hoping to be selected for work that day. National Highway 2 was in fairly good condition and we made good time but it was Choy's first trip out of the city, and despite my assurances that I knew the way, he kept stopping to ask directions from farmers tending their cattle or catching fish and crabs in the small pools of water that lined the side of the road. We reached the Tonle Bati turn off, about 35 kilometres along Route 2, after just over an hour and turning into the wellkept park containing the two twelfth century Angkorean temples, paid the 'ticket of contribution for foreign guest', which had increased to $2. On my last visit, in March 1998, the entrance fee was just $1 and the site was still as neat and tidy as I remembered it and just as deserted, apart from a few children playing by the entrance to the main temple, Ta Prohm.

The path through the outer wall to the main sanctuary of Ta Prohm was bordered by colourful plants and flowers and spoke volumes for a site lovingly maintained by elderly laymen and nuns. Decoratively carved lintels were placed on the ground at intervals around the whole complex while the five chambers of the central temple had statuary and lingas inside, with apsaras, unique lintels, frontons and other carvings on the outside walls. I enquired about the damaged statue of Preah Norey that I'd seen on my previous visit and one of the widows offering incense sticks in front of a large Buddha statue explained, via Choy, that the carving had been seconded by the National Museum in the capital for restoration work to be carried out. The smaller ancient temple of Yeay Peau, 150 metres north of Ta Prohm and nestled adjacent to Wat Tonle Bati, was our next stop. Treading carefully through the building work in the grounds of the pagoda, there were a couple of lintels still in place on Yeay Peau but the modern temple next door had more to offer with its colourful wall murals, gaudy statues and a trio of highspirited children. We finished off our stop with a quick tour of the lakeside beachfront, which housed an increased number of picnic shelters and brightlycoloured umbrellas.

Another twenty kilometres along Route 2 lay the prominent hill of Phnom Chisor and its Angkorean temple. Choy was keen to see it for the first time I'd previously visited in March 1998 and he was a little confused when I tapped him on the shoulder and told him to pull over into the grounds of Prasat Neang Khmau, a few kilometres short of our destination. An opensided prayer hall was packed with worshippers and monks, with the head monk chanting repetitively into a microphone that drowned out my explanation that next to the nearby modern wat were two crumbling tenth century brick towers. Inside the lefthand tower, nuns were praying to the spirit of the 'Black Lady' (Neang Khmau) and children crowded the entrance to both towers and the adjacent pagoda as word of the foreigner's arrival spread. We were soon on our way along the dusty four kilometre track that ended at the foot of the 348 steps leading to the top of Phnom Chisor. Accompanied by Noy, a young girl from the family stall next to the nearby school, as we climbed the steep staircase she gave us a running commentary, which included "same same Angkor Wat", a comment often used by locals to indicate the approximate age of ancient temples throughout the country.

At the summit, I met the smiling but toothless temple caretaker, who shook my hand with gusto as we soaked up the gorgeous view of the surrounding countryside, where Phnom Da and Angkor Borei appeared as a small outcrop amidst a sea of water in the far distance. Resuming her role as our unofficial guide, Noy pointed out the ruined 11th century temples' best features as the sun reached its highest point and I searched for the shadier areas as we wound our way slowly through the hilltop compound. I gave Noy a few gifts as a thank you for her efforts as we sat under the shade of her stall at the foot of the stairway and gulped down some refreshing coconut milk. Soon we were on the road again and by early afternoon, I was back in Phnom Penh and sat in the Foreign Correspondents Club tucking into my lunch, thankful for the comfortable seat after more than six hours and 100 kilometres on the back of Choy's moto. An hour later, I walked around the corner and into the National Museum to view the exhibits that had been missing on my previous visit. They were all back in their positions of prominence within the museum, including the reclining bronze Vishnu from the West Mebon, the Shiva & Uma couplet from Banteay Srei and the exquisite Jayavarman VII head from Preah Khan, amongst many others. On the spot restoration work was being carried out by Khmer and French restorers, while some of the more fragile items had been encased in glass. I rounded off the day with a delicious evening meal at the Special Rice Crust restaurant a little way out of the centre of town with some friends and retired to bed early to catch up on my sleep ready for my trip to Kompong Cham the next day.


Details & Reservations: A Cambodian Journey Part 1
RealAdventures | Cambodia Articles

]]> http://RealAdventures.com/listings/1024015_A-Cambodian-Journey-Part-2 http://RealAdventures.com/listings/1024015_A-Cambodian-Journey-Part-2 Articles Cambodia Tue, 27 Mar 2001 00:03:00 Follow Andy Brouwer as he treks through Cambodia's Kompong Cham region. -
Follow Andy Brouwer as he treks through Cambodia's Kompong Cham region.


My seat on the new airconditioned bus to Kompong Cham cost just 6,000 riel and we left on time at 6.45am from Phnom Penh's Central Market. I sat next to a Canadian vet working for Voluntary Services Overseas, who was returning to his rural practice after a long weekendbreak in Bangkok. Crossing the Japanese Friendship bridge, the road all the way to Kompong Cham is perhaps the best in the country, recently upgraded by the Japanese government at a cost of $38 million. Two hours later, I stepped off the bus into the busy market area of Cambodia's fourth largest city, nestled alongside the mighty Mekong river. Asking directions to the Mittapheap Hotel, I was directed around the corner and confronted by a clean and smart building, where an equally tidy aircon room with ensuite bathroom cost me $10 per night.

Keen to explore my new surroundings but also interested in checking out a recommended hotel called the Ponleu Rasmei, I walked a couple of blocks and asked to see their rooms, also $10 per night but more homely. Suy Sam On, the receptionist, was eager to engage me in conversation and after a short while he offered to be my guide for the next couple of days, as long as the hotel manager gave his permission. Agreement was quickly obtained, On reappeared with his uncle's battered moto and off we drove, heading out of the city to visit Wat Nokor and the nearby man and woman hills, known as Phnom Pros and Phnom Tet Srei.

A former policeman, On could talk for Cambodia, he was that chatty. Now 25 years old, single and one of nine children, he left the police force to join the hotel staff where he earns more than his old $10 a month police salary. He also explained that he sends money to his ageing mother and that means he can't afford the $300 needed to provide a dowry to marry his sweetheart, a teenage schoolteacher from his home village. On the way to Wat Nokor, we discussed plans to visit the 8th century Chenla capital at Banteay Prei Nokor across the Mekong river the next day, which is located just a few kilometres from his home village of Trach. At the large roundabout outside Kompong Cham, we drove under an archway and entered the temple complex. First built in the 8th century, Wat Nokor, also known locally as Wat Angkor, is a real gem of a ruin. It is a suprisingly large construction, with three outer walls with gopuras at each compass point, lots of carved apsaras decorating the walls and a number of sandstone and buildings and libraries. I was joined at the entrance by a group of cute kids who played hide and seek throughout my visit and were rewarded with a handful of balloons and small toys from my daysack.

An interesting feature of Wat Nokor is that the Angkorean structures have been incorporated amongst modern temple buildings, which have colourful paintings lining the walls and ceiling. Modern Buddha images sit in ancient alcoves, sandstone pedestals and statues are on view and the libraries have excellent quality frontons and lintels to inspect at close quarters. Outside the inner enclosure wall, sit four modern buildings which house one reclining and three large seated Buddha statues. My only disappointment was the position of the sun which impacted on my photographs, as did the compactness of the temple which made it difficult to capture the whole scene as I would've wished. After an hour, I managed to lure On from the main vihara where he was having his fortune told by a temple layman and with some regret, as I'd enjoyed my stay so much, we left the complex and headed out along Route 7 towards the two nearby hills.

The subject of a popular Khmer legend about how women outsmart their menfolk, the hills lie just a few kilometres outside the city. A new road was under construction up to the top of Phnom Pros, where the temple sits on top of older foundations. Concrete grey in colour, the modern wat has two main shrines, each with brightlypainted wall murals and a troop of monkeys scurrying around the refreshment stand close by. Across a short divide, lies the 200 metrehigh Phnom Tet Srei and we rode to the foot of the 386 steps, where we parked the moto and began our ascent. Without a cloud in the sky, the sun took its toll as we reached the summit and took a rest in the shade. The pagoda on this hill was small and unspectacular, but the views of the flat countryside spread out below made the exhausting walk worthwhile. Sat under the faded wall paintings of the small vihara, On had another reading of his fortune from one of the three old caretakers present before we returned to the moto and were back at the hotel by 4pm.

I used the rest of the early evening period to inspect the market and the busy riverfront area before heading back towards the Ponleu Rasmei and more importantly, the nearby Hoa An restaurant for dinner. As I entered, I was besieged by most of the thirty staff, twenty of whom were 'beer girls.' It soon became apparent that I was their only customer and the disappointment on their faces was evident when I ordered my usual softdrink. The menu arrived and I pointed at a picture that resembled curried chicken. Fortunately, I was right and I was well pleased with the outcome for $3. As I was leaving, a large group of businessmen arrived and the beer girls were at last in their element. I meanwhile, returned to my sterile room at the Mittapheap to update my travel log and to get a good night's sleep.

First thing the following morning, I left the Mittapheap and carted my rucksack over to the Ponleu Rasmei. On was already out and about and equipped with a betterquality moto, we set off at 8.30am for our outing to his home village and the nearby historic site of Banteay Prei Nokor. Our first obstacle was the wide, browncoloured expanse of the Mekong river. A car and passenger ferry making the crossing every fifteen minutes cost us 800 riel. The opensided ferry was loaded with pedestrians carrying goods and produce for sale in Tonle Bet, the village on the far side of the river, as well as cars, pickups and motos. In the distance, the concrete foundations for the new bridge across the river, costing $56 million and another major project sponsored by the Japanese, rose out of the choppy waters. Back on dry land, once through the village, the highway (Route 7) deteriorated rapidly as we passed by the regimental lines of rubber tress at the Chup plantations and through the bustling but dusty town of Suong. The road improved as it turned into the red clay variety but the downside was the blinding dust storm caused by any passing truck or car.

At Knar village, we took a right fork and joined a recentlylaid road courtesy of the UN's 'Food for Work' Program, that seven kilometres later brought us to On's home village of Trach. It was quite touching to see the greeting he received from everyone in the vicinity. It was much like the return of the prodigal son as we pulled into his family home to be greeted by his 79 year old mother, Sam Son, his younger sister Yen and other relatives. Word of On's homecoming, accompanied by a foreigner, quickly spread and very soon it seemed that each of the village's seventyfive families had sent a representative to survey the scene. The small courtyard in front of the family home was full of people, as Sam Son invited me into her home, a tworoomed bamboo shack on stilts. However, our initial stay was only a brief one as we headed out towards the late eighth century Chenla capital of King Jayavarman II, then known as Indrapura, just a couple of kilometres away.

The main temple site of Banteay Prei Nokor is enclosed by a 2.5 square kilometre earth bank and moat, over which we passed and soon turned into the grounds of a modern wat, where we immediately spied a couple of monks whom On knew very well. At the rear of the modern temple stood two red brick sanctuary towers, crumbling and lacking any serious decoration. The doorway to one tower, still in reasonable condition, was of sandstone and inside, sticks of incense at a small altar were alight. Alongside it, the second tower was badly cracked with a tree sprouting through the main entrance. Our arrival had alerted a small group of children who came to inspect us, as we went next door to examine the wall paintings inside the modern temple. Across some barren ricefields, no more than 200 metres away, stood another ruined tower, where much of the brick base had been removed by locals for their own building purposes. In the nearby scrub, On indicated the scattered remains of another eight towers of the oncemighty capital city. Returning to the temple grounds, we stopped to share coconuts and cigarettes with the friendly monks before returning to On's village for more refreshments.

As we returned, so did the onlookers. After tea with On's immediate family, the elders changed into their best clothes to pose for some formal photographs before On drove off to fetch the Doctor for his mother, who had a chest infection. In his absence, I entertained the crowd by taking part in a few activities. One of my favourite games, keeping a shuttlecock up in the air with only your bare feet, had most of the audience in stitches, while my attempt at threshing rice with crosssticks, also elicited howls of laughter. To complete my feigned misery, I challenged the local champion to a game of pool under the house of the village mechanic next door and was soundly beaten in a matter of minutes. The fun at my expense subsided when On returned and we walked the length of the village, so he could introduce me to nearly every family. He said that for many of the villagers, I was the first foreigner they'd ever met face to face. Before we left the village, I handed out lots of small toy gifts, balloons and sweets to the youngest children, of which there were many, much like every other village anywhere in Cambodia.

We headed back towards Route 7 indirectly, as we detoured to visit On's old school, a single brick building in a clearing a couple of kilometres away and then stopped for more hot tea at his elder sister's house in Angkev village. Back on the highway, we rested at a roadside cafe in Knar village to sample the local lizard and beansprout broth, before braving the blinding dust clouds once more and taking in a brief tour of one of the rubber plantations near the village of Chup. On the return ferry, I saw the first two foreigners of my time in Kompong Cham, two French motorcyclists, before returning to the hotel by 4pm for a hot shower to remove the dust that covered me from head to toe. For my evening meal, On took us to the Kampong Cham restaurant in Veal Vong village, where we both ate well for a total bill of $5 and he talked long into the night about his hopes and plans to make a better life for himself and his immediate family. At 6.30am the following morning, he took me to the old market to catch a sharetaxi to Kompong Thom for the next leg of my journey. My time in Kompong Cham had been fairly short but certainly eventful and thoroughly enjoyable, and I have On to thank for that.


Details & Reservations: A Cambodian Journey Part 2
RealAdventures | Cambodia Articles

]]> http://RealAdventures.com/listings/1024016_A-Cambodian-Journey-Part-3 http://RealAdventures.com/listings/1024016_A-Cambodian-Journey-Part-3 Articles Cambodia Tue, 27 Mar 2001 00:03:00 Follow Andy Brouwer as he treks through Cambodia's Sambor Prei Kuk region. -
Follow Andy Brouwer as he treks through Cambodia's Sambor Prei Kuk region.


The front seat of the sharetaxi from Kompong Cham, through Skun and up to Kompong Thom cost just $2 and took less than two hours. Route 6 was in good condition apart from a few unstable bridges and Tuern, the driver, put his foot down most of the way. Unfortunately, we were going so quickly that one of the painfullythin dogs that belong to every household along the route, didn't move fast enough and became one of Cambodia's increasing number of road fatalities. On arrival, I booked into the Neak Meas hotel ($12 for a wellappointed, aircon room), took a leisurely stroll around the town's main market area and enjoyed a long conversation with Se Eth, the hotel manager. I walked a few yards along Route 6 for my evening meal at the Arunras restaurant, where a barely edible beef dish cost a dollar.

After a good night's sleep, I was eagerly anticipating my trip to the 7th century temple complex at Sambor Prei Kuk, some thirtyfive kilometres northeast of the town. Sokhom, my motodub, collected me just before 7am and we joined Route 6 for a few kilometres before veering off onto an unsealed road in a sorry state of repair. Recent rains and local traffic had created cavernous craters and ridges and it didn't get a lot better when we took a right fork under a templetopped archway, although the remainder of the journey turned out to be a glorious glimpse into life in rural Cambodia. Constantly bombarded with beaming smiles, waving adults and countless children shouting "okay", we drove through tiny hamlets and markets, past small pagodas, across the tops of dikes, stopping to watch the locals harvesting the rice fields and buffaloes rolling around in the mud. At regular intervals, the trail ahead was submerged and we either drove straight through the pools of water or waded across the deeper, kneehigh flooded parts on foot. This particular route will be impassable in the rainy season I'm sure.

Once through the villages of Atsu and Chey Sampeou, we reached the hut at the entrance to the Sambor Prei Kuk complex it had taken us a little under two hours and had been a thoroughly enjoyable ride. A fee of 5,000 riel towards the upkeep of the temples seemed a small price to pay as I signed the visitors book (I was the first tourist for about a week) and we drove along a rutted track to start our tour at the distant southern group of temples. Sambor Prei Kuk ('hillock in the forest of Sambor') was chosen by King Isanavarman I as the capital city of the Chenla Kingdom in the seventh century and not surprisingly, was known as Isanapura. Over time, many of the structures at the site, over 170, have fallen into ruin or suffered from vandalism, whilst others remain remarkably intact. Standing in several acres of peaceful forest, the site was last properly cleared and studied by the French experts from EFEO in the 1960s. During that era, wellheeled tourists used to stop and visit the temples en route to Angkor. However, the site has been virtually off limits due to the presence of the Khmer Rouge and the continuing civil war since those times, until improved security in the area has now once again made the temples accessible.

There are three main groups of brick and sandstone temples and all face the rising sun. The best structures are found in the southern group and that's where we began our exploration. Entering the enclosure through a hole in the outer rampart wall, the eight octagonal sanctuary towers and other gatelodges made an impressive sight with the sun highlighting the relief carving on the tower's outer walls. Known as 'flying palaces', these sculpted brick panels are about two metres high and despite the ravages of time, some are still in reasonable condition. Accompanied by a background cacophony of birdcalls and crickets, the sun filtering through the trees in straight columns and red ants on the march wherever you stepped, we walked from tower to tower, some of which are crowned by vines and tree roots, to inspect the structures at close quarters. The main temple of the group is called Prasat Neak Poan and is a particularly imposing edifice, with a broken linga pedestal inside and a skylight open to the elements. The east gate housed a striking sandstone pedestal with a carved ceiling and jambs inscribed with ancient text, while a section of the inner enclosure wall was also inset with numerous relief medallions. The carvings are now merely sketched in broad outline as the surviving brick would have had an outer coating of stucco, but from what remains one can still imagine the splendour of the original group.

As we were leaving the area to move onto the central group a kilometre away, a couple of 4WD vehicles announced the arrival of Kompong Thom's new governor, who was visiting the complex for the first time. Sokhom detected a nervousness amongst the governor's bodyguards so it was time to leave and soon we were at our next stop, Prasat Tao (the 'Lion Temple'). This spectacular tower is the only one still intact amongst the central group and has an enormous fig tree growing out of its flank. At its main entrance, two original stone lions have been restored while the feet of two others testify to the theft and disappearance of all the statuary from the site. What remains is now safely housed in the National Museum in Phnom Penh and in Paris, at the Musee Guimet. The capital displays some outstanding items including a Harihara statue, a depiction of the goddess Uma and a Durga from the northern group, whilst the Guimet Museum has an important lintel and a Vajimukha sculpture. We were joined at Prasat Tao by ten members of a Khmer family who arrived by 4WD and were accompanied by a relative returning home for the first time after fleeing to the USA in 1979. The older women in the group gave offerings and prayers at the entrance to the temple before the whole group vanished as quickly as they'd arrived.

Back on the moto, we returned to the checkin hut where Sokhom and I chatted to the husband and wife responsible for the site. In fact, we manned the entrance for a short time whilst they sped off to check on the governor's entourage. Leaving Sokhom resting in a hammock, I made a beeline for the nearby northern group of nine temples and its main tower, Prasat Sambo. Some of the structures have relief carvings on their outer walls, others are topped by sprouting tree trunks and dense foliage and scattered amongst the undergrowth were carved sandstone columns, door frames and lintels. Prasat Sambo itself is in poor repair after US bombing in the area in the early 1970s scored a direct hit on the temple, whilst a nearby tower is home to a colony of bats that didn't appreciate my intrusion. Across the access road three more towers stand in isolation, including a small, square windowless building of sandstone slabs known as Ashram Moha Reusey, where excavations under the structure by thieves looking for buried valuables were evident.

After two hours at the site, we started back towards Kompong Thom, stopping at a new school in the village of Atsu, both of which were dedicated to the memory of Atsuhito Nakata, a Japanese UN election volunteer killed by the Khmer Rouge in 1993. Sitting outside the school playing cards was Srey, kitted out in full army uniform with regulation rifle, who turned out to be Sokhom's brotherinlaw. We shared our water and the cigarettes I carry around for such occasions before moving on through a host of small villages, fording flooded parts of the trail and taking photos of the locals when they weren't running away, as a group of six schoolgirls did when I pointed my camera at them. Sokhom explained after they finally posed, that they'd never met a foreigner or seen a camera before. Back at the Neak Meas by 1pm, after a quick visit to the market to buy some fruit, I took a nap and awoke to a midafternoon torrential downpour that quickly flooded the streets and lasted well into early evening. My meal at the Arunras next door preceded a lengthy chat in the hotel lobby with Eth, a former translator with three languages under his belt, English, German and Thai and in his second year as the hotel manager. With typical Khmer generosity, he invited me to the hotel's second birthday anniversary celebrations the next day, pronouncing that I would be the guest of honour alongwith the town's Chief of Police and 250 other guests!

The overnight rain had ceased by the time of our early morning departure at 7am, as we headed south along Route 6 towards a popular local attraction, Phnom Santuk, some fifteen kilometres away. The rain clouds were still hovering overhead and the summit of the hill was shrouded in mist as we approached and turned left off the highway. Arriving at the foot of the 980 steps leading to the top of the hill, vendors were beginning to lay out their stalls, whilst a few others began the hard slog of carrying their wares to the top. Sokhom decided to remain with his moto, so I began the climb alone although I was soon joined by a dozen boisterous children, eager to tag along with the foreigner. Before the midpoint, just four boys remained as my companions and after a few stops en route to pause for breath, we reached the summit and they began showing me the best vantage points. In my opinion, Phnom Santuk is a mess but interesting all the same. Its pretty kitsch in places, litter is strewn everywhere and the summit is a hotchpotch of stupas, shrines, temple buildings and massive boulders with carvings cut into the solid rock. I counted at least five substantial carvings of Buddha, either sitting or reclining, tucked away in various hideaways (above). The clouds had now dispersed and the panoramic view over the surrounding flat countryside was impressive to say the least. I seemed to be the sole visitor at this early hour it was only 8am and the only sound was emanating from the monks' prayers in the active monastery closeby.

Sokhom suddenly appeared at the summit and we wandered around the various attractions, which he explained would draw crowds of locals later that day as Sunday is an opportunity for families to visit the hill for picnics. Near a Chinese altar, Sokhom asked one of the local freelance photographers to take our picture which he agreed to collect later that day and keep as a souvenir. Two hours after arriving, we began our descent past a few newlyinstalled beggars lining the steps, just as two busloads of locals arrived and were immediately besieged en masse by food and drink vendors. The sun was now out in full force as we left Phnom Santuk to return to the city. En route, we stopped at a pagoda where an elderly monk proudly showed us some recently painted murals inside the vihara and then took us outside to look at the wooden long boat that had taken part in the 'Bon Om Touk' water festival races in Phnom Penh just a few weeks previously.

Back in Kompong Thom, Sokhom took me on a mototour of his hometown, spread out along bothbanks of the Stung Sen river, We stopped at a 200 year old pagoda with brightlypainted statues, stupas and temple buildings, called in at the market to buy sweets and drinks and checked the departure time and cost of a pickup truck to Siem Reap, first thing the next day. I also gave Sokhom who looked older than his 35 years and is a former teacher, hence his reasonable English some gifts for his young daughter and agreed to meet for a final time at 6.30am the following morning for a lift to the pickup point. It was midday when I returned to the hotel and after a quick change of clothes, Eth guided me into the hotel's noisy nightclub to join in the party he'd organised. A live band were playing and singing very loudly as Eth introduced me to what seemed like most of the 200 or so guests present, including many of the town's leading dignitaries. He plied me with as much food and pepsi as I could manage before persuading me to join in the 'ramvong' dancing. My feeble attempts at the graceful movements of hand and body that come naturally to the Khmers, appeared clumsy to me but Eth seemed genuinely overjoyed that I'd taken part. He couldn't however, persuade me to join him on stage to sing a few karaoke songs by which time most of the smartlydressed revellers appeared particularly merry from the freeflowing alcohol.

My ears were ringing from the high decibel music as I left the party around 4pm and walked over the road to watch a good quality volleyball match in progress. Coaxed into taking part by the large crowd, my efforts were marginally better than my ramvong dancing but still way below the superior standard of my fellow players. But at least it gave the crowd something to smile about! I continued the sporting theme as I walked around the block and joined in a game of 'tot sey' (foot shuttlecock) with a father and his son before the rain started again and I retired to my hotel room for a wellearned rest. With a limited choice of restaurants in the town and the rain still heavy, I popped next door to the Arunras for supper, where I encountered the first westerners, two demining specialists working for the Mines Advisory Group (MAG), since my arrival in town. Back in my room, a video of the anniversary party was playing on the hotel's tv channel and I cringed as I saw myself struggling to match the natural gracefulness of my hosts on the dancefloor. You can be sure that I won't be ordering a copy of that particular video!

Up early the following morning, Sokhum's smiling face was there to greet me as arranged at 6.30am. I hopped onto his moto for the short ride to the taxistation and after saying our goodbyes, bargained with the pickup driver for both front seats for the fivehour trip to Siem Reap. $6 bought me acres of room compared to my travelling companions four of them were squeezed into the back seat and another twelve, including two monks and a soldier, were lodged on top of my rucksack, other bags and produce in the open rear of the truck. The road deteriorated immediately we left Kompong Thom and didn't improve until we reached Siem Reap, 145 kilometres later. Pothole hell doesn't really do it justice and the rain over the previous two days added a new dimension to the journey in places. For example, the townsfolk of Stoung lined the main street to gleefully watch lorries, pickups and cars slip, slide and career their way through deep clogging mud that had already claimed a few victims. We took a thirty minute break at Kompong Kdei, where a similar scene was played out. Whilst the other passengers enjoyed a drink and legstretch, I walked a few hundred metres to inspect the impressive Angkorean naga laterite bridge called Spean Praptos, eightyseven metres in length and built in the early 13th century. Another feature of the journey, apart from the view of everyday rural life along the highway, was the entrepreneurial spirit shown by villagers along the route. They'd filled in some of the craters with soil, sticks and stones as a temporary road repair and held out their hands hoping for a few riel notes thrown by the driver's mate in the rear of the pickup.

Reaching the old market at Siem Reap by early afternoon, my first thought was for a nice long soak in a hot bath and I walked to the Freedom hotel, just along from the market on Route 6. I'd already emailed the manager, Chhay Hak, that I was due in town and he was on hand to welcome me at the start of a weeklong stay in Siem Reap and a return to the wonderful temples of Angkor.


Details & Reservations: A Cambodian Journey Part 3
RealAdventures | Cambodia Articles

]]> http://RealAdventures.com/listings/1024018_A-Cambodian-Journey-Part-4 http://RealAdventures.com/listings/1024018_A-Cambodian-Journey-Part-4 Articles Cambodia Tue, 27 Mar 2001 00:03:00 Follow Andy Brouwer as he treks through the sites of Angkor, Cambodia. -
Follow Andy Brouwer as he treks through the sites of Angkor, Cambodia.


My first full day in Siem Reap kicked off with a 5am wakeup call to watch the sun rising slowly over the famous towers of Angkor Wat. I also used the visit to meet up again with the bright and bubbly Noung, a souvenirseller I'd met on my last trip to Angkor, her elder sister Sokchata, her brother Plon and her mother and father. They were busy setting up their stall just off the central causeway to Angkor Wat and a little later, another table laden with kramas, trinkets and drinks, a few yards beyond the impressive South Gate entrance to the ancient city of Angkor Thom. The recognition from Noung was instant and the smiles and giggles genuine as she offered to come along for the ride during my morning's temple circuit.

After my brief, but unsuccessful attempt to sell a few kramas to surprised tourists at the South Gate, we raced off towards the Bayon and arrived just in time to make my 9am appointment with Narita Tsuyoshi, the project director of the Japanese Government Team for Safeguarding Angkor (JSA) click here to visit their website who spent the next hour explaining in detail the restoration process that JSA had undertaken on the northern library. The project had taken more than five years to complete, beginning with a structural survey, dismantling the roof, walls and pillars and restoration of the damaged stonework. New sandstone and laterite blocks were quarried, no small feat in itself, the foundations were reassembled, as were the walls and finally the doorways. The endresult was a credit to the Japanese team and their Cambodian staff and the knowledge gained from the process will be invaluable for future restoration at the site. A plan is being drawn up to preserve and restore the whole Bayon temple, while the JSA team are already repairing the towers of Prasat Suor Prat on the edge of the Royal Plaza and the northern library of Angkor Wat.

Thanking my host and his colleague Sugiyama Katsumi for taking time out to give me an insight into some of their conservation efforts underway at Angkor, I headed off for the temple of Ta Prohm, along with Noung and our motodub, Meanley. We stopped at a drinksstand run by her friend Nu for a refreshing bottle of icecold water and met another group of her friends at the entrance to Ta Prohm. I'm tempted to believe that the hordes of souvenirsellers that inhabit the temples of Angkor all belong to one large extended community. Noung then introduced me to Shanti, who asked if I knew a family from the USA with whom she'd spent some time a couple of months earlier and by coincidence, I'd been in regular contact with her new friends via email, offering pretrip advice and swapping posttrip stories. She was ecstatic although puzzled by the concept of email and gave me a bundle of sarongs, tshirts and kramas to pass onto my close friends. I didn't have the heart to deflate her joy by telling her that we lived on separate continents!

Security guards, a recent addition, were in evidence at the entrance to Ta Prohm, as they are at the beginning of the causeway to Angkor Wat, to deny entry to the gaggle of hawkers that now congregate around the refreshment stalls. Ta Prohm is always a great place to go, at any time of the day, to wander slowly and aimlessly amongst its ruins and to marvel at the carvings and the tangle of huge roots which grip parts of the temple in a vice. The friendly leafsweeper was there, as he always is, but the chatter and playful sounds of the temple kids scurrying around the fallen galleries was sadly missing and made me mourn for the old days. With midday approaching and my stomach crying out for sustenance, we rode back to town for lunch at the Greenhouse restaurant before Noung returned to her duties at Angkor Wat and I made a beeline for a nap at my hotel, the Freedom.

Refreshed and raring to go, Meanley collected me at 2pm and we returned to Angkor Thom, but didn't stay long, carrying on through the North Gate before stopping at the western entrance of Preah Khan. The approach to the massive gopura is lined by headless gods and demons (the result of years of unchecked theft) and just inside the gate is a reception centre for the World Monuments Fund, who have been restoring parts of the temple for the last few years. Larger and similar to Ta Prohm, Preah Khan deserves a higher profile than it has amongst visitors to Angkor. It has a number of unique features including a twostoried Greeklike structure, friezes of dancing apsaras, as many as 75 fivemetre giant garudas and a 'dharmasala' (resthouse) beyond the eastern entrance. At the time of my visit, restoration work had ceased for the day and apart from a couple of young boys playing near the central sanctuary, I had the temple all to myself.

Meanley collected me at the northern gopura and we aimed for a trio of much smaller, rarelyvisited temples, north of the main access road. Prasat Prei and its sister temple, Banteay Prei are both minor shrines built in the late 12th century by Jayavarman VII. The former is only a few metres from the main road and has little decoration on its fallen sandstone and laterite blocks, sitting on the crest of a tiny hillock. A few hundred metres north lies Banteay Prei. I hopped over the laterite enclosure wall and wandered around the unrestored sandstone shrine and gallery, surrounded by a moat. Back on the moto we headed for Neak Pean but took a left turn to stop at Krol Ko, another twelfth century temple. With trees providing some welcome shade, a couple of pediments on the ground and apsara carvings on the walls of the main sanctuary were of chief interest here. The unique island temple of Neak Pean, with water in the central pool, merited a brief stop before we headed off to catch the 5.30pm sunset from the top of Phnom Bakheng.

Noung has a pitch next to the main shrine at the summit of the hill. By the time I arrived, lots of tourists had already claimed their place to wait for the sun to set and the tshirt and sarong business was brisk. There is little doubt that despite her tender years, Noung is a consummate saleswoman who is equally comfortable using any one of four languages to close a sale. I was suitably impressed. The banter of the souvenir girls and the chatter of the numerous tourists made for a noisy sunset over the western baray, while the darkening gloom made the descent of the hill a dangerous proposition for one Korean tourist who tripped over and fell, badly cutting his forehead and damaging his camera.

The following day, after the obligatory Angkor Wat sunrise and a change of motodriver, I set out on a whistlestop tour of a dozen of the smaller temples in and around the Angkor complex, including a handful that I'd never set eyes on before. The best time to visit Prasat Kravan is in the early morning to catch the sunlight on the brick basreliefs inside the towers. Our next stop was at Bat Chum, a tenth century temple some way off the main road. Its in a peaceful location but doesn't attract any tourists to see its three brick towers, stone lions, lintels, carved colonettes and interesting inscriptions praising the temple's builder. Built a couple of hundred years later, the east entrance of Banteay Kdei is opposite the landingplatform of the royal lake of Srah Srang. Walk under the facetower that marks the entrance and follow the 200 metre path to the main sanctuary with its naga terraces and dancing apsara carvings. Restoration work is underway at the temple courtesy of Japan's University of Sophia.

After a brisk walk through Ta Prohm, Saran my motodub, told me that the remote temple of Ta Nei was closed to tourists for renovation by a multinational team under the guise of the APSARA Authority but he knew the way to the rear of the site. Always ready for a new challenge, I agreed to give it a go and fifteen minutes later we came to the end of a dusty track at a manmade dam across the Siem Reap river. Leaving the moto, we crossed the dam and walked along a barelydiscernible path through the dense forest until a clearing revealed the 12th century temple of Ta Nei before us, overgrown and in ruins. The collapsed state of the main temple and the setting made the journey worthwhile as the shafts of light piercing the tree canopy and the sounds emanating from the forest added to the experience. There are some fine lintels and pediments dotted around the ruins and as we were leaving a team of labourers arrived to begin building a temporary lodge for the restoration team, who plan to use the temple to both teach and practice their conservation techniques.

Retracing our steps, I asked Saran to head for the sister temples of Thommanon and Chau Sey Tevoda, stopping briefly enroute to inspect the sandstone bridge, Spean Thma, where narrow corbelled arches used to allow the flow of water, although the river's course changed long ago. Both Thommanon and Chau Sey were built by Suryavarman II in the twelfth century. The former is a compact and wellpreserved temple with fine relief carvings of devatas and pediments in the typical Angkor Wat style. Across the road and a little older, Chau Sey Tevoda in contrast, was undergoing major renovation by the Chinese and the whole floor area was covered in numbered blocks of sandstone and reconstructed lintels and frontons. I almost felt a trespasser as I walked around the site, stopping to view the work of the stonemason's as they chipped away at some replacement blocks and cleaned others.

Passing under the mighty North Gate, Saran took a left so I could view the small group of five temples known as Preah Pithu, set in a pleasant wooded location in a corner of the Royal Plaza or Square. Surrounded by small moats, the temples have some decoration but are largely ignored by most vistors to Angkor. This also applies to the row of twelve identical towers, known as Prasat Suor Prat, lining the east side of the Royal Plaza. These sit on either side of the road leading to the Victory Gate (opposite the Elephant Terrace) and are made of laterite and largely undecorated. The JSA team had cordoned off, erected scaffolding and were restoring two of them, although access was still permitted to the galleries and false windows of the North and South Khleangs that lay immediately behind them. By this time, I was visibly flagging with temple fatigue. Back in Siem Reap, I stopped at the Continental Cafe for lunch and returned to the Freedom for my customary rest for an hour or so.

The afternoon session began with my decision to try and locate a temple known as Banteay Thom, some kilometres northwest of Preah Khan and well off the route and itinerary of Angkor's many visitors. Once through the North Gate of Angkor Thom, we left the main road and quickly entered the domain of typical village life as we frequently stopped to ask directions of locals more than a little surprised to see a western tourist in their midst. Saran, although possessing no more than a smattering of English, suggested we pick up the village policeman, They, who grabbed his uniform and rifle and jumped aboard our moto as we ventured further away from the main complex. Despite getting lost twice, They finally directed us off the track and across a series of fields and dykes before stopping at a ramshackle house. We parked the moto and continued our journey on foot, through scrub and bushes, wading thighdeep across a small river and through rice fields until, two kilometres later, I spied the top of a tower in a field, surrounded by a copse of trees.

As we approached the laterite outer wall, two armed men in Army uniforms stirred themselves out of their hammocks and guided us into tangled undergrowth, through a hole in the wall and past a couple of pools, full of water and weeds, to an entrance gopura. Immediately behind it was the main sanctuary, although all around us were fallen blocks of sandstone and the ruins were fighting with the undergrowth for supremacy. I told Saran that this was how temple exploration should be and he nodded, although not really understanding. Apsara carvings on the walls and broken lintels and pediments in situ and on the floor suggested to me a 13th century structure, along with two small libraries either side of the ruined central shrine. Jumping from block to block, trying to avoid the scurrying geckos but especially the savage red ants that were obviously enjoying the taste of my ankles, the vegetation made good, clear photography difficult as we made a full circuit of the temple. One of the Army guys confirmed that no tourists came this way although he did remember a German visitor some months earlier. Hot and bothered as the heat took its toll, we returned to the moto, thanked them with a couple of dollars and finished our adventure with an hour at Angkor Wat and another sunset visit to Phnom Bakheng. All in all, a memorable day.

I spent the next morning at Banteay Srei and Banteay Samre with a carload of Khmer friends, including Noung who took a couple of hours off from her duties on the family stall. All four of my guests suffered bouts of car sickness, although I could understand why with a rollercoaster ride on an appalling road to and from Banteay Srei, some 25 kms north of the main Angkor complex. In the afternoon, I returned to Angkor Thom on my own and spent a few hours on foot, wandering leisurely around the monuments on the western side of the Royal Plaza. I started at the Elephant Terrace with its carved elephants, lionheaded figures and garudas, as well as its concealed sevenheaded horse and threeheaded elephant figures. Moving onto the reconstructed Leper King Terrace and its two sets of basreliefs showing seated male figures with drawn swords, attending devatas and manyheaded nagas. Just north of the latter terrace lies Tep Pranam, in a quiet and secluded wooded area and has naga balustrades and stone lions leading onto two large rebuilt Buddhas, one seated and another standing. A pleasant 300metre walk took me to the terrace and excellent nagas in front of Preah Palilay. Just beyond the entry gopura with its decorated pediments, is the chimneylike tower rising from the ruined sanctuary.

Crossing a lightly wooded area, I headed for the northern sandstone gopura of the Royal Palace and then onto the two royal pools nearby, full of water. In its heyday, most of the buildings in this area were of wooden construction and have since perished. One of the few remaining features, the largest pool has walls completely covered with basreliefs showing crocodiles, fish and other carved figures. Next door was the laterite pyramid of Phimeanakas, rising to a height of around 35 metres. There are steep stairs on all four sides and I chose those on the west side to climb to the sandstone gallery at the top. The view from the summit was pretty good and I looked south towards the Baphuon, closed to visitors due to renovation work being carried out by EFEO, who were also responsible for the restoration of the nearby Elephant and Leper King Terraces. To end the day, I walked to the Bayon, noticeably devoid of other tourists, and watched the sunlight slowly disappear from the massive faces that surrounded me on the third level.

To round off my tour of some of Angkor's less wellknown temples, I visited Wat Athvea on my return from a morning spent touring the fishing villages on the Tonle Sap lake. Wat Athvea is in the grounds of an active wat and is in the main, a sandstone construction from the 12th century and the reign of King Suryavarman II. Inside the main sanctuary are three barelyvisible carvings of apsaras and outside are four laterite structures, possibly libraries, within the outer laterite wall. All of the temple's lintels and pediments are long gone but its worth a quick detour on your way back to Siem Reap just to spend a quiet halfhour with the monks and locals. I ended the day sat quietly at the top of Angkor Wat's highest level watching the sun sink slowly in the west. A perfect end to four great days in and around the Angkor complex.

Details & Reservations: A Cambodian Journey Part 4
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]]> http://RealAdventures.com/listings/1024021_A-Cambodian-Journey-Part-7 http://RealAdventures.com/listings/1024021_A-Cambodian-Journey-Part-7 Articles Cambodia Mon, 25 Sep 2000 00:09:00 Follow Andy Brouwer as he treks through Battambang, Cambodia's second city. -
Follow Andy Brouwer as he treks through Battambang, Cambodia's second city.


Leaving Siem Reap is always a wrench but after a week's exploration, I was keen to discover in person what Battambang had to offer, aware that only a trickle of tourists had so far bothered with Cambodia's second city. With a wealth of Angkorean ruins in easy reach, a stillvisible colonial past and the slow pace of life along the banks of the Sangke river, Battambang was to be my base for the next three days before returning to Phnom Penh.

The fiftyseater speedboat left the Chrong Kniesh fishing village at the foot of Phnom Krom at a little after 7am and sped across the open expanse of the Tonle Sap lake with twenty passengers on board, the majority of whom sat on top of the boat to enjoy the view. Once across the lake and into a labyrinth of river estuaries, we dropped off and picked up a couple of passengers until our path was clogged with weeds and we were forced to find an alternative route. Stopping to ask directions, the boat pilot eventually got us back on track and we joined the Sangke river, with stilthouses and waving, halfnaked children lining the riverbank, arriving at the northern end of the city just after midday. The usual three hour boat trip, which had cost $15, had taken five hours.

Ob Philay, my motodub for the next three days, drove us to the Teo Hotel, my choice at $10 per night with airconditioned, ensuite facilities. An hour later, we followed the Sangke river north out of the city before veering off alongside a much smaller tributary, passing through small shady hamlets and ten kilometres later, we reached the 11th century temple ruin of Ek Phnom. Under an overcast sky, five cheeky young boys dogged our path as we explored the ruins two raised sandstone sanctuaries with a few carved lintels of good quality and surrounded by a laterite wall and a moat. As we rested, Philay took the opportunity to tell me about himself he was 44 years old, married with two children and was a former military policeman in Phnom Penh, who'd vacated his job quickly in the bloody aftermath of the 1997 coup before we moved onto look at the wall murals in the modern wat next to the ruins. To round off the afternoon, a leisurely ride back to the city was punctuated by short stops at pagodas along the route including the modern wats of Peamek, Kdol, Slaket (where I had a long conversation with a nun, translated by Philay of course), Ruol Daun and Piphit. A walk around the central covered market, a quick stop at Wat Damrei Sar and then a stroll along the riverfront at dusk preceded an evening meal back at the hotel.

Day two in Battambang began with an 8am start as Philay and I headed out along Route 10, the road which ends at the former Khmer Rouge stronghold of Pailin. Large trucks and pickups kicked up blinding dust as we drove past the Phnom Sampeou and Kamping Puoy (a large manmade reservoir popular with locals) turnoffs, after which the road deteriorated into a series of boneshaking potholes and craters. Thirty kilometres from Battambang, we reached the village of Snoeung, where a solitary sandstone temple (Wat Snoeung East) stands to the side of the main highway. The sanctuary, built in the late 12th century, has three elaborately carved lintels of exceptional quality. In the shadow of the adjoining modern wat, three large crumbling brick towers form Wat Snoeung West, open to the elements, with one carved lintel and decorated pillars at the entrance to the middle tower.

Retracing our steps back to Sampeou village, a right fork along a sealed road took us to the foot of Phnom Sampeou ('ship mountain') and a flight of 700 steps, winding their way to the top of this rocky outcrop. A strategic battleground between Khmer Rouge and government forces for much of the past decade, the hill has a series of cave grottoes to explore, lined with Buddhist shrines and statues a 200 riel note bought me a candle from an obliging nun in the absence of a torchlight before more stairs took us to the main temple complex at the peak. The view over the surrounding countryside was quite breathtaking and Philay pointed out two nearby hills, Phnom Krapeu ('crocodile mountain') and Phnon Banan, our next destination. The modern wat housed colourful wall paintings depicting the life of Buddha, a host of statues and half a dozen friendly monks. Nearby, a large stupa was guarded by a disused artillery fieldgun, allegedly surrounded by landmines.

Philay confided that he'd worked in the fields at the foot of Phnom Sampeou during the 'Pol Pot time' after his father (an army colonel) and mother (a teacher) had been taken away and never seen again. Poignantly, he suggested we follow a rocky trail through bushy undergrowth to see a permanent reminder of the atrocities committed by the Khmer Rouge on another part of the hill. Ten minutes later, we reached a small wat, which he explained had been used as a prison and torture centre in the late 1970s. Nearby, a staircase led down to an underground cave where a small wooden platform contained a pile of human remains, victims of the Khmer Rouge who'd been pushed to their deaths from the cave's skylight high above us. Next to the platform was a brightly painted six metre reclining Buddha. Another path took us to a smaller cave which housed a substantial collection of skulls, bones and clothes in a makeshift memorial. This led onto more subterranean caves which Philay assured me contained poisonous snakes at the very least. Our route off the hill was via a gently sloping rocky track, at the bottom of which we stopped for refreshing coconut milk, met some playful children and had a chat with some workmen preparing to carry wooden telegraph poles, by hand, up the 700 steps a daunting prospect.

Leaving Phnom Sampeou behind us, a straight road built by locals working for a World Food Program 'Food for Work' project took us back in the direction of the Sangke river. Passing a couple of small villages, with stilthouses on either side of a moretypical bumpy unsealed road, we moto'd through the grounds of an abandoned school to the foot of Phnom Banan, some 25 kms from the city. A steep 150 metre laterite staircase, with decorated naga heads and broken lion statues lying in the grass nearby, led to the 12th century temple on top of the hill. I was accompanied on the climb by Poly and Seun, two local teenagers keen to practice their English, learnt at the pagoda school nearby. At the summit, five laterite and sandstone towers, in varying stages of ruin, make an impressive sight, as does the view from the hilltop. A couple of towers were surrounded by thick vegetation and were difficult to visit, whilst the central shrine housed a batch of modern statues and broken linga pedestals. Sandstone lintels above the doorways to this tower were in good shape, although the beheaded apsaras on the walls had fared less well. A camouflaged artillery gun reminded me that Phnom Banan too, had been on the frontline of the civil war for many years. It was a bumpy ride back to Battambang, running parallel to the Sangke river for much of the way and passing through a host of small rural villages.

Back in the city centre by 2.30pm, Philay dropped me off at the provincial museum on the waterfront. I toured an exhibition of photographs which occupied one building and admired five intricately carved lintels surrounding a second building next door. This allegedly contained a collection of statues and carvings but the Museum Director had gone to Phnom Penh and taken the only key! Well, this is Cambodia after all. A quick visit to the busy market area and a leisurely stroll around the city's streets allowed me to photograph some of the faded ocre and yellow buildings, with blue wooden window shutters and wroughtiron balconies, a lasting reminder of the city's colonial past as a French Protectorate.

Determined to make the most of my time in Battambang, Philay and I set off at 8am on my third day in the city with Wat Bassaet as our main objective. This 11th century temple is located some twenty kilometres northeast of the city centre, as we crossed the narrow bridge over the Sangke river and out along Route 5, the main road to Phnom Penh. The Govenor's Mansion and the towering ten metre tall golden kneeling figure of King Kron Nhong and his magic staff (legend has it that he threw the wooden staff from Angkor and where it landed is now present day Battambang = 'lost staff') merited photostops until after a few kilometres we took a left turn along a shaded road in good condition, running alongside a small creek with wooden houses and no motorized traffic to speak of. After an hour and a brief stop at the main wat in the village of Tapon, we reached the ruined temple of Wat Bassaet, quietly nestled next to a banana grove in the grounds of a nunnery.

As at all the Angkorean sites near Battambang, I was the only tourist in the vicinity. In fact, during my time in the city, I did not see another obvious tourist or traveller, only westerners working for the numerous NGOs that frequent Cambodia's second city, and missionaries. Wat Bassaet has two main sanctuaries, both in a ruined state with one in imminent danger of collapse. Sandstone blocks and lintels lie haphazardly in the bush and the remaining lintels and frontons still in situ, showing carved Rahu monsters, have been painted blue and yellow by the local monks. A laterite pool full of slimy green water was a stone's throw away, as was a series of sandstone pillars, windows and carved blocks, lying scattered throughout the grounds of the nunnery, their living quarters and meditation area. We left after nearly an hour to return to the city by an alternative route, retracing our steps to Tapon village and then onto Norea, where we stopped to inspect a giant seated Buddha just off the main road. The remainder of the journey was along unsealed and bumpy roads, past farmers harvesting rice in the fields and seminaked men fishing in the roadside ponds.

For the second half of the journey, we moto'd alongside the muddy brown Sangke river and stopped at various modern wats en route. These included Wat Balat, Sophy, Po Khnong and Po Veal, where a small museum was closed for renovation and a group of young monks were fixing an awning and microphone system ready for a party later that day. At the next two stops, Wat Kandal and the colourful Wat Sangker, I was quizzed at length by two friendly young monks eager to practice their remarkably good English on me. The usual questions about my age, nationality, job, marital status, reason for coming to Cambodia, etc were quickly exhausted before we moved onto discussing a myriad of other topics, like Christianity, Buddhism, Angkor, NGOs, girlfriends, music and even football. Thirsty after so much talking, I accepted an offer of tea but politely declined to share their food. Instead, I parted company with Philay and walked back across the river to the market area. The Heng Lim, yesterday's eatery, was closed so I chose an unnamed restaurant near the Paradise nightclub for some late lunch and later, an evening stroll amongst the busy stalls, drinkstands and makeshift cafes set up along the riverfront.

I flew back to Phnom Penh in the middle of the following afternoon. I'd been due to leave on the 8.20am RAC flight but was informed on arrival at Veal Baek Chan airport that it had been delayed until later that same afternoon, time of departure unknown. To fill in the time, Philay took me on a ride around the city, I visited the market again where I encountered a handful of amputee beggars for the first time, and returned to my comfortable room at the Teo Hotel, where the Manager, Pheng kindly allowed me access to my room free of charge to rest and snooze. Refreshed and wellfed, the 3.40pm flight, with eleven passengers, two cabin crew and two pilots, lasted fortyfive minutes before we touched down at the capital's Pochentong Airport.

A Cambodian Journey Part 1
A Cambodian Journey Part 2
A Cambodian Journey Part 3
A Cambodian Journey Part 4
A Cambodian Journey Part 5
A Cambodian Journey Part 6
A Cambodian Journey Part 7

Provided By Andy Brouwer's Cambodia Tales
Details & Reservations: A Cambodian Journey Part 7
RealAdventures | Cambodia Articles

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