Sunrise at Angkor Wat

On Saturday I took the boat from Phnom Penh to Siem Reap, Cambodia, home of the Angkor Wat temple ruins. The trip followed the Tonle Sap River NW to the Tonle Sap, a large lake about half the size of Lake Erie. The river is unique in that it runs both directions; during the rainy season (May-Oct), the river runs toward the lake, filling it and vastly expanding its surface area (from 2700 to 16000 square km). In the dry season (Dec - Apr) the river reverses course, draining the lake of much of its water, and much of its wildlife as well. The Khmer (main Cambodian ethnic group) hold a festival each year to celebrate the reversing of the flow.

During the boat ride, I snapped lots of photos, and sat on top of the cabin most of the way. I got a little sunburn on my legs, but it was worth it. We left at 7am and docked in Siem Reap at 12pm. I was viewing the temples by 2pm.

The Angkor cities and temples were built from the 9th to the 15th centuries by the Kings of the Khmer Empire. Angkor Wat is the biggest temple, and started out as a Hindu site, but was later converted to Buddhism. Its image is reflected on the Cambodian flag. Many of the other sites are solely Buddhist, but all have a strong Hindu influence, recognizing the often close relationship between these two religions.

SUNRISE AT ANGKOR WAT

On Sunday, I got up at 5am with the intention of being the @ Angkor Wat at sunrise. As I wandered out the door, the jungle hotel courtyard was silent; the only sounds were birds chirping in the surrounding trees signaling the start of the day. The only people around were the night watchman, Chhean, who is working on his English in class one day per week, and the just arrived concierge. It was then that I realized that I had no way of getting to the temple. I thought it might be walk able, but it occurred to me that my memory of the distance in the car from yesterday was probably not accurate, so I asked for help. After some discussion between the two employees in Khmer, I was offered a bicycle that I happily accepted.

I was not entirely sure of the direction I should be headed as I pedaled out of the gate. I stuck with my intuition and rode off into the darkness, north through the forest. The road was unimproved, a mix of gravel and dirt. I passed many homes, open air shacks really, of locals who were awakening to start their day. Concern began to creep into my bones. How safe was it to ride this road right now? Was it the right road? What would I do if confronted by some locals in the dark? Despite these thoughts, I pressed on. I really didn't think what I was doing was dangerous; it was just dark and I was alone in an unfamiliar place. I was also sweating; while the sun had not
come up yet, it was warm and very humid. To make matters worse, to enter the temple you are supposed to have long pants on and a shirt that does not expose shoulders. I am wearing a pair of long linen pants and a long sleeve t. Big mistake on the latter. My shirt is stained with perspiration in about four minutes.

About ten minutes after I left, things began to look a little familiar and I arrive a checkpoint. I had purchased my 3-day pass yesterday, so I passed upon presenting it. Excitement started to hit - the temple moat was in sight, a full 70+ yards wide, and the sun lay low beyond the Eastern forest about to commence its daily journey across the sky. I was just in time.

For better or worse, there were plenty of other early risers crossing the causeway for the show. There are pros and cons to traveling alone. Pricing favors two or more in sharing rooms, rides, and sometimes food, etc. However, it was times like this when being alone pays off. I nimbly snap my photos and pass by the roaming groups stopping for each other, chatting, and constantly assessing their consensus. Soon I am climbing the various steps to reach the central tower, some 400+ yards from the moat. The steps are steep and worn; sandstone weathers easily in a tropical humid climate such as this. The way up is tenuous and the signs at the base warn of climbing at your own risk. Keeping your eyes in front of you prevents the "don't look down" syndrome that is so often associated with heights. I reach the top, and find just a few visitors have come this far, perhaps less than ten. I pray to a Buddha and light some incense sticks, dropping some local currency to the monk in attendance. A few more photos of the solar illumination of this monument to the ancient empire and it is time to reflect. I find an open stone window space to sit in, overlooking the tropical forest below and its immensely tall trees. I want to feel the energy of this place, soak it in without concern for photos, transportation, or time. I begin to cool down and my sweat stops and begins to dry off my shirt. I fall asleep.

Briefly after sunrise, most of the tourists leave, off to get breakfast. As I awake, the distant causeway across the temple grounds has essentially emptied and the louder groups of visitors have gone. The high temple tower is for the most part quiet. I linger for another 30 minutes or so and begin my descent. The heat and my effort build as I make my way down, and sweat returns. I stop for an omelet sandwich at a courtyard stand off in the tree line of the courtyard, and am immediately hounded by kids selling postcards and other trinkets. I turn them away and make my way back to the bike. The ride back is one of accomplishment. I get back at 8:15am, change, grab a chair at the pool, and relaxing in the rising tropical sun.

Siem Reap, Cambodia
August 27, 2006