Siem Reap, Cambodia

Travel Story by Betsy Campo

Siem Reap, Cambodia

Cambodia: the name alone evokes an array of images. Our largely American entourage had many notions of what to expect – a vague familiarity with its past struggles, nightmarish visions of Pol Pot and his murderous Khmer Rouge regime, Dith Pran's Killing Fields, piles of skulls, suffering and poverty. We saw the aftermath of this... and more. As a parade of temples, villages, people and experiences were presented to us in the coming days, we were all left dazed by the compelling dichotomy of Cambodia.

We arrived in Siem Reap aboard a spanking new Bangkok Airways 717-200, (the first jet aircraft in its aging fleet) and met by our guide - Graham Cleghorn. No one entity personified Cambodia's contrasts more than this man. Friendly and laid-back, but sly, the sum of many parts: former soldier, "counter terrorist", husband and father - and now a tour guide and temple aficionado. With his military haircut and rugged exterior, he seemed part Indiana Jones, part G.I. Joe. He whisked us away on our coach and, while a lush landscape rolled by, our journey began.

Angkor, which in Sanskrit means holy city, was the heart of the Khmer civilization for scores of years, extending its domain well into Thailand. A leisurely stroll, surrounded by children and monkeys, led us to Angkor Thom, a 12th century Khmer city. Intricate bas-reliefs whispered tales of the civilization's origins while stone figures of gods, demons, serpents and asparas menaced from walls, moats and causeways. In the fading daylight we ascended to the great walled city's summit to savor the view.

Our later descent in the near darkness amid swooping bats gave us fodder for dinner chat – and considerable guano on the soles of our boots. The following days brought us to Ta Prohm, magical even in its tumble-down state, with the massive roots of kapok and banyan trees cascading and protruding in every direction; and to the highlight of our temple visits - Angkor Wat.

A miracle of size, proportion, symmetry and detail, it is covered with meter after meter of bas-relief swarming with the Hindu deities Vishnu, Brahma, Shiva and their assorted courtiers. A wall detailing the perils of the damned at Final Judgment was of particular interest to our guide Graham, who embellished with vivid gusto.

Tonle Sap, Khmer for "great lake", was the setting for our excursion to a floating village, and a total sensory experience it was. The pungent aroma of the local delicacy "ra-ha", a paste-like goo composed of dried fermented fish, mingled with the more pleasant waftings of grilling fish and wood smoke. Among the workaday cacophony of buying and selling we could hear the chanting of school children in their floating classrooms. "Hallo Hallo!!!"- they greeted us, wanting nothing more than a return of their greetings and a touch of the hand - or perhaps to peek into our digital viewfinders to scrutinize their photographed images. A vietnamese village, recognizable by the conical hats of its inhabitants; lay further out into the lake. A submarine fish farm, three-stories deep, provided scores of fresh water profit. Among its other curios were two 10 kg pythons, which provided the reptile-phobes among us with the photo-op du jour. Resident children, unfazed by our squeamishness, heaved and then dropped their scaly quarry with gleeful abandon. When a ten-year-old girl pleaded with me to hoist the slimy monster, I had no choice but to comply. Quick! Get the shot before I am asphyxiated or exsanguinated!

On the recommendation of Graham, we visited a pediatric hospital. Funded by "Friends Without a Border", "a not-for-profit organization which provides financial and program support for Angkor Hospital for Children (AHC) in Siem Reap, Cambodia". "Friends... is dedicated to improving the health and future of Cambodia's children by providing pediatric medical care and medical education...". We saw that healing exists even in the most spartan of settings.

Ignorance is the biggest killer. Locals believe that illness can be cured by folk medicine or wishful thinking. Education on basic health, nutrition and family planning is sorely lacking. Land mines, malaria, respiratory illness and malnutrition are just a handful of the challenges presented to hospital staff. We saw beyond what most visitors to the Angkor temple complex are able to see - that there is still much suffering, poverty and sickness. The country is still haunted by the ghosts of Khmer Rouge victims - the teachers, poets, doctors and leaders who would have helped shape their homeland had they not been summarily shot. The countryside is pockmarked with bullet holes and the pavement melted away by sulfuric acid explosives and rocket launchers. The irony of the locals' trusting smiles in contrast to their horrific past is shattering.

A festive occasion was conjured up: the celebration of the birth of a son, always an event in Eastern culture. We danced and celebrated with the people of Graham's village. Clockwise, in a swirling, gyrating semi-formation, we danced around an illuminated pole – and the universal nature of dance brought us together. The music, a mosaic of rock, pop, Thai-disco and funk, was the perfect antidote to whatever inhibitions lurked within and before long even the most staid of our members was moving.

At the end of our visit we went to a silk farm. At a government-sponsored handicrafts facility, the apprentices learn to raise mulberry trees for silk worms and how to nurture the tiny creatures while they spin their precious cocoons. They learn how to harvest the silk, spin and dye it, and finally, the creation of beautiful cloth. The eager hopefulness of the workers impressed us all. These girls and women, gainfully employed and learning a valuable vocation, would otherwise be prostitutes - or simply destitute. They spun away toward a brighter destiny - an appealing metaphor to contemplate as we wound up our Cambodian journey.

Illustration by Bob Veon
(Bob Veon's Website)

Read more about the author of this story:
Betsy Campo

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