The last five days have been about two things: The Bicycle and The Temple. I came to Siem Reap with a vague idea that I would try to bicycle to whatever temples in the area I could, though I knew some were pretty far from home base, though some also seemed doable. I also read that bikes could be rented easily and cheaply. I was right about both these things. What I had no idea about was how easy or difficult it might be to navigate to these places, or if I would hire a tour guide at some point and for what (as the literature seemed to indicate was common practice). I also knew it was going to be monsoon season and so hot, steamy, sweaty, and wet. So with little sense of what exactly I was going to do, or how, or with whom, or when, I got on a plane for Southeast Asia.
I could not have not planned any better. My first day in town I rented a "town" or "simple" bike (aka a clunker--no gears, some brakes), and while I was exploring the streets near where I am staying I came across a bike touring company (see previous blog). I looked at their offerings, and without really knowing what temple I was going to, or where it was exactly (or even vaguely), or what 75 km converted to mile-wise, I signed up for a tour leaving at 7:00 am the next morning for Beng Mealea.
When I arrived the next morning I was greeted by a very slight, smiling young Cambodian man whose first interaction with me was to offer me a high five. I couldn't remember what the temple destination was, or which direction (perhaps I was still in jet lag mode), though I did figure out the ride was about 50 miles one way--the van would bring us back, happily. I was the only one who signed up for the tour, so off we went, stopping first in what Sum (my trusty bike and tour guide) referred to as a "suburb" of Siem Reap (though I can assure you it looked absolutely nothing like a western-style suburb), and what looked like to me a village market center with "restaurants," medical clinics, food stalls, shops, petrol (sold in l and 2-liter bottles from small stands to the motorcyclists). Sum had breakfast (eggs, beef, and rice and iced tea) and I had tea--green (more on my half-hearted quest for a proper cup of tea in a different blog). We also had a toilet break--"clean toilet" toilet Sum would come to say. This toilet was very clean, and also what I call (and maybe is still called by some?) a Turkish toilet--the kind you squat over, then pour a small bucket of water into to flush it.
The terrain we covered for the next 30 or so kilometers to the half-way mark was wonderful and interesting countryside, and we had the gift of having some cloud cover so the blazing sun was simply hot and steamy. The houses ranged from small and shack-like, to relatively large with actual windows on them (though not often the case on this particular ride). Almost every one was elevated on stilts--I thought because of the water rising and falling, but Sum (who grew up in a village not unlike some of the ones we saw) says it is for storage (for motorbikes and bicycles, for food, and for hammocks). And there were a lot of hammocks. And young kids (it's a school holiday) running after us along the red, gravely dirt path yelling "hello, hello!" and "goodbye, goodbye" always with big smiles on their faces. There were motorcycles carrying all manner of things and passengers, sometimes five people to a 100cc bike, or cargo, including pigs. The pigs were in all likelihood headed to market, and there were sometimes three to the back of a bike on their backs, tied down in submission, though occasionally squealing. It wouldn't go over well with animal activists, but how does a place like this, with an economy that doesn't really support many cars and trucks and which has many more motorcycles and bikes, get to humane treatment of animals?
At the half way point , we have a bottle of water (at least) and Sum smokes a cigarette. He invites me to try the hammock at our rest stop/roadside stand. I do. I get in and I really don't want to get out. I can see how it is we have seen so many people occupying hammocks on our ride. It's comfortable and the heat and humidity require us to do less and do it more slowly. I'm a total convert.
We continue our ride and I continue to find the rice fields and planting and harvesting of rice of interest. I enjoy the stories Sum tells about life in this area as well as his own life (among other things he was a Buddhist monk for 10 years). About 3/4 of the way there the sun has come out in full force. Not a cloud in the sky. I'm feeling a little depleted--it's about 11:00am and I at breakfast at about 6:30 am and I've been pedaling for four hours. I feel the effects of the heat, of hunger, of thirst (though I've been drinking some), and of age. I ask Sum if we can stop at the side of the road, and we do, though he makes a little fun of me, but also admits that sometimes he gets a bit dizzy from the sun and heat (and which is why, he later tells me, he doesn't wear sunglasses). I eat a couple of small bananas, drink some water, feel refreshed and off we go to the temple--the name of which I can't recall. In fact, this whole time, I have no idea really which direction we are headed (the roads we take are dirt, some not passable by car), or (until the half-way point) how far we have gone, or when we might arrive at our destination. And I don't even ask. I'm in no particular hurry. I figure we'll get to where we're going. Which we do.
It's unceremonious in some ways, Beng Mealea is. There's a pretty new looking building (clean bathrooms), and a formal looking gate with a guard, though for what I don't know. We pass through and there are restaurants and shops along this dirt road, as in many places we have passed through that are a bit more populated. (Pictures soon I hope.) The temple itself has barely had the jungle carved off of it, and it is clearly a battle to keep it that way. Not all parts of the temple are particularly passable. Those that are are via some plank walkways, and sometimes just planks. Clearly a hazard in western terms. Sum tells me the story of the temple, its ancient history and its recent history.This temple predates Angkor Wat and Angkor Thom. And it has really only been cleared of landmines in the last five years apparently, though no area is ever 100% cleared it seems.
I am continuously humbled by the suffering experienced by the people in this country, and the way in which the atmosphere is generally one of joy and optimism. I guess that's one reason why I can't stop smiling as we ride by the people smiling at us on the roadside and from their hammocks and homes. I suppose I look a little ridiculous out there on the dirt road on my mountain bike wearing a helmet with my white skin. No matter. In time, we all get to where we are supposed to be, whether we ask impatiently if we are there yet, or simply get absorbed in the journey and forget to ask.
No comments:
Post a Comment