Temple Mountain

In the cold pre-dawn, I rolled out of bed and got dressed and was ready to depart at the agreed time of 6am. Mr. Wiep, on the other hand was not ready. After informing me that we would now be leaving at seven, he must have rung a friend to ask him to step in – probably after a heavy boozing session and a visit to Sok San, no doubt! Anyway, eventually, his friend came and we set off as the sun was coming up over the plains. It was actually bloody cold as we whipped along at a steady 60km/h…and then it occurred to me that we shouldn’t be doing anything close to those sorts of speeds. Where were the sand traps and big boulders? What had happened to the ox-cart track I was expecting. It seemed there had been some road improvements up here as well!
After about 40km, I came across a strange sight – an Oakleys-sporting, backpack-shouldering giant wandering through this country of small people. I asked the driver to pull over and found myself talking to an affable American who had evidently undertaken the same trip as me. It turned out he was on his way back from the temple after trying, and failing, to cross the border into Thailand there. He too had stayed at Heng Heng guest house and had also been ripped-off by the cunning Mr. Wiep. The village at the foot of the temple mountain was, apparently, only another 5km up the road…and there was no need for anyone to guide you up the mountain as there was almost a road leading up to the top. I wished him luck as he headed west looking for a border crossing and continued on my way feeling slightly miffed.
Once in the village, I left my ‘guide’ to his own devices and strode off up the mountain. Judging by the digging equipment and sections of paved road, I’d say the road to the top will be finished within 6 months…and I felt kind of glad that I would be one of the last people to do it the ‘hard way’ before busloads of fat Yanks would take away its meaningfulness. Sweating profusely, I reached the top in a little under an hour – leaving me 2 hours to explore, before having to return to my moto.
And what a stunning, breath-taking, awe-inspiring two hours they were. From the top of this rocky ridge, it was easy to see why the Khmer emperors had wanted to consecrate this place. The views over the lowland plains to the South and into Thailand to the North are commanding. The temple itself is a testament to just how advanced this civilisation was, while Europe was still stuck in the early Dark Ages. If this was pre-Angkorian architecture, I couldn’t wait to see the edifices built at the height of their civilisation…my appetite was well and truly whetted. The complex, over a kilometre in length was on a scale hard to imagine 1100 years ago and, even at this time, the stone-carving and masonry were exquisitely crafted. There were two modern counterpoints to this ancient splendour: bullet holes in some of the walls from the Khmer Rouge’s last stand here in1998 and the sight of teams of workers for HALO, clearing landmines right up to the temple walls. It was a sad reminder that nothing in this world is sacred.
Back in Choam Ksant that evening, Rin took me to a festival at the local wat, celebrating the blessing of some new building or other. I was taken aback by the sheer number of people, who seemed to have appeared from nowhere to party and have a good time. There was some traditional dancing from the local children and a carnival atmosphere prevailed with hot food stalls and the sounds of children laughing. I turned out to be one of the main attractions as person after person came to rest their head on my shoulder and point out how tall I was…some of the cheekier girls were squeezing my arms and thighs, as if sizing up a piece of livestock at the market. Not sure how to return the compliment without causing offence and limited by a lack of language skills, I did a runner and went to bed.
The next day I made the return journey to Kompong Thom in two episodes: the first, in the trusty pick-up (with inevitable tyre-changing incident), the second, in a share taxi. Please imagine the trip from Tbeng Meancheay, not in a 4-WD but in a Toyota Camry…me alone in the front passenger seat; driver and someone else sharing the driver’s seat and foot-well; and four adults and a small child in the back. Apart from actually arriving at all, the only major surprise was that we didn’t get a flat tyre. I retired wearily to bed with the promise of the splendours of Angkor Wat awaiting me the following day.