Khmer Kaleidoscope - Battambang - Away with The Bats

We were about to celebrate double birthdays. A family decision was made to escape to a place with a name I love, Battambang. It was accessible and travel would be easy. Excitement mounted as we retreated into childhood mode. After all, who doesn’t enjoy a road trip to new pastures. With Khanny, our wonderful Khmer friend and part of the family, at the wheel, we headed out in a north-easterly direction through the barren countryside. Skirting the northern regions of the Tonlé Sap Lake, it was evident the world was taking a beating on all levels. The pandemic destroyed tourism which in Cambodia, is a lifeline for survival. The drought had a disastrous effect on the economy. Together, these events were causing havoc in the country.

Experiencing lockdown in Siem Reap was a wonderful thing to do. The natural beauty of Debbie and Jono’s garden delivered the serenity, protection and happiness needed to get through the long days of relative solitude. The extended online teaching took its toll though. It was stressful for all concerned. Not to mention lonely and completely unnatural. A certain little kitten kept me company during these teaching sessions. Ponlok was much loved by all my students. He held their attention considerably longer than I could.

Driving into the city of Battambang, my first impressions were those similar to many places in China. Grey, dull and lifeless. However, from experience, I have learnt to withhold judgement until further exploration. Specifically, until I have discovered the most charming coffee shop, serving the most delicious coffee and goodies to eat. Preferably those created for a sweet-tooth like myself. My open mindedness and patience paid off as I knew it would.

The air hung heavily over buildings and streets. Traffic made its way slowly and seemingly with purpose. There was a noticeable absence of pedestrians due to the pandemic of course. Khanny negotiated his way to the hotel. On arrival at an impressive entrance, La Villa Battambang, on the banks of the Sangker River, greeted us in true French Colonial style.

The lush gardens played host to enormous trees, shrubs and plants. At that time of year, huge banana plants were in full blossom everywhere. Their magnificent fineness was quite breath-taking. As were the colours of each incredible bloom.

Once again, I found myself immersed in the coolness and elegance of large ceiling fans and chequered floor tiles. Thankfully, as always, I had my straw hat, complete with its neatly attached ribbon, in my hand. Most befitting given where I was. Surrounded by exquisite furniture and collectables from eras past. Pieces of art and valuable objects, each with no doubt their own colourful stories to share, embraced the entrance hall. Welcoming couches stood in silence. Seemingly observing us appreciating all that bore a rich, valuable history.

In the 1930’s a local trader built La Villa Battambang. Little did he know then that the splendid building would be home to many, including a private family, the Vietnamese army after the Khmer Rouge era in 1975, a Cambodian general and thereafter, endless squatters. A complicated history in the making. Standing within this manicured creation, looking out of huge windows, I tried to imagine what took place within the walls. The suffering of the past deeply embedded within the bricks. Mysteries, achievements and perhaps even horrors, held the space for periods of time. No doubt the joys and pleasures of life from that era too played an important part in creating what is now an absolute treasure of Cambodia. Together with, of course, the expatriate couple who restored the building to its former glory in 2004. La Villa Battambang has truly captured the details and essence of a fascinating past. I spent hours looking at the old photos, allowing myself to be transported into life as it was. However, remaining grateful for living in this present-day period and not back then.

My bedroom. Or rather my suite, captured my heart, let alone past eras. I stood at the entrance of the door to fully absorb both the stylish and interesting collection of furnishings. An antique desk placed below a window caught my eye. From here, I would be leading online meetings with my Toddler Class colleagues. Better to keep my video off I decided. For fear of being blatantly cruel. A gentle breeze cooled the room, making my four-poster bed look even more inviting. The floors were splendid. My room captivated old-world elegance perfectly. 

The streets in the older part of town were deserted. Evidence of human activity lay everywhere. The atmosphere was hauntingly heavy with silence. We could hear our footsteps at times. Children playing in the streets were absent. As were the older generation who always sit outdoors manning their stalls. There was no life. Shops were closed. Markets, floating villages, museums, galleries, restaurants and the many beautiful wats were all closed. Battambang is not only home to the famous The Phare Ponleu Selpak Cambodian Circus, but also to the famous Bamboo Railway. Neither of which were operating during that time. As I had seen the circus performing in Siem Reap twice before, I was not that concerned about missing it. Although seeing the actual workings of the venue where the artists train, must be incredible. I was more disappointed at not being a passenger on the Bamboo Train. The train consists of a metal base with four wheels, upon which a large piece of wood, creating a platform, is placed. In the past people, goods and even livestock braved the journey upon the quirky contraption.

Despite not having access to any events or places, I was more than satisfied with simply walking the streets. Connecting to yet more of Cambodia. I did not expect anything to be open. After all, the world was gripped by a pandemic. We knew that. However, the brutal reality of the situation was bitterly evident that day in Battambang. The loneliness of deserted streets was overwhelming at times. And deeply saddening too. Residents were tucked away within their homes. In solitude. Gripped by fear of the unknown monster which had the power to wreak havoc through the world. The monster capable of filling streets with an eerie emptiness. Of stealing human interaction and togetherness.

Debbie, Jono and I walked on through the streets, stopping to admire fabulous street art depicting a group of happy children, as well as the more dramatic paintings of the bats. The art provided splashes of colour to the somewhat depressed environment. I thought some of it was rather appropriate in terms of social distancing. We could integrate with the characters in the paintings – at a safe distance.

We discovered our base camp for Battambang. The Lonely Tree Café was tucked away on the first floor of a rather dull, gloomy building. Imagine our surprise and relief to find it open under such miserable circumstances. We settled down and ordered their freshly baked lime tart and coffee. Any depressing thoughts of the pandemic mysteriously disappeared for an hour or two. We were experiencing yet another gem in the crown of Battambang. There was certainly a charming quality in most places. One which showed itself through even the thickest of curtains that were lockdown.

The only event open during that period was the viewing of the bats as they take to the skies each afternoon. Just before sunset. Pandemics or not, there is no stopping those little guys. The viewing of one of nature’s marvels was staggering to see. Not quite as staggering as seeing my friend, Khanny, consuming warm eggs with partially incubated baby chicks. I do love to explore local cuisine, but this time, a chilled beer did the trick.

The setting sun left behind a golden glow to everything. Bright red chairs threw bouquets of colour everywhere. The warmth of the evening cuddled us. We enjoyed simply being together. Again, I was almost disbelieving of where we were in the world. Sipping beers beside a gaping hole in the limestone mountain and graves right behind us. More and more Cambodians gathered. This was clearly an important event.

Quietly, without us even noticing, a shadow of sorts filled the entrance to the gaping hole in the mountain. A blanket of silence fell over the area as if the next occurrence held something sacred. It did. The cave, Phnom Sampeu, is a place of pilgrimage. One can understand why. The significance and respect for these bats was explained by Khanny. It is estimated that over one million Asian wrinkle-lipped bats live in Phnom Sampeu. They fly up to fifty kilometres to hunt insects every evening. Each bat eats between fifty and one hundred percent of its own weight. As a result of their mass feeding spree, these little guys save the country’s rice harvest from being annihilated. It is believed that the bats save over two thousand tons of rice a year. As the population relies heavily on rice, the little guys are literally preventing a famine. There are apparently other colonies in the country.

We too watched in silence as the bats created a ribbon in the golden skies. As more and more joined the flowing ribbon, it danced with ease through the sky. Forming an almost mystical event. We were in awe of these little creatures and the importance they played in the country. My thoughts returned briefly to humanity. If only we humans could unite and work together as the bats do. We could perhaps save the world.

A most spiritual and befitting moment then took place. A nun, douji in the Cambodian language, gently approached our table. Her white robes surviving the dusty air. That always amazed me. I immediately loved her face. One full of stories, wisdom and laughter. She began chanting in a not-so-gentle voice whilst performing her blessing. It was beautiful. And very sacred to me. The douji’s are usually elderly women who offer service to the wats in order to pave the way for their own passing.

Despite everything being closed, I loved Battambang. As always, I left this brief adventure with deeper respect and understanding of others. My love for Cambodia and its people deepening. Return I will. To a place called Battambang. To experience all that we missed due to lockdown. Next time though, I’ll be sailing on the riverboat from Siem Reap along the tributaries of the Tonlé Sap Lake. Complete with my straw hat and chilled G&T in hand.