Khmer Kaleidoscope - First Impressions

In this post, describing my first visit to Cambodia back in 2012, I am withholding more information from you regarding the temples, Tonle Sap Lake and the floating villages. This is due to the fact that each of those places now has so much more meaning to me. There will be future posts focussing on each place in detail. As seen through my eyes. This is simply a fleeting first impression. 

The first day of every school term found most ex-pat teachers booking their flights out to the next destination – all in the name of mental and emotional wellbeing. In other words, survival ...

One extremely polluted morning, we headed out to the incredible Beijing International Airport. All three of us were South African teachers living and working in Beijing. I remarked on how different the energy of the city was, when all were still asleep. Anticipation ran high. Jenni, Frankie and I were off to explore a new country. One I’d heard so much about through the eager, joyful recollections of Debbie’s former trip there. The kingdom of Cambodia. Where temples and kings had existed centuries ago. And still do. Negotiating the Beijing traffic, even at that ungodly hour, was amusing, terrifying and maddening. I was on taxi-duty, which meant sitting up front with the driver. I had to talk to him and nudge him constantly to keep him from falling asleep at the wheel. He would argue each time, barking, “Not sleeping. Resting my eyes.” 

School holidays always brought a sense of freedom and happiness amongst ex-pat teachers boarding flights. Even the Chinese customs and immigration officials were polite that morning.

Our flight took us via Guangzhou, China. The airport presented a challenge never to be repeated. Arriving in Siem Reap at six thirty in the evening, the mercury boldly sat at twenty-eight degrees Celsius.The last leg of the journey had presented us with panoramas I will never forget. There was nothing but water as far as the eye could see. The world below was saturated. Rivers were lying asleep in titanic pools of water it seemed. Creating ribbons across the landscape. Recognisable as rivers only by the tips of trees lining the banks. Rooftops dotted the scarce patches of land. I knew we were approaching the mighty Tonle Sap Lake, one of Asia’s largest freshwater lakes, but it was not recognisable, as it too lay in a pool of water.

On arrival, the heavy sweetness and warmth of the night air greeted us. Our friendly tuk-tuk driver was there to meet us. With skill and patience, he managed to pack three ladies and their bags onto his recently decorated vehicle. The Red Satin Wonder became our transport, our shopping trolley and our safe haven whilst in Siem Reap. The Bou Savy Guesthouse welcomed us with spotlessly clean beds, gorgeous gardens, fabulous food and quality service. The rains fell heavily for a solid ten hours that night.

No moisturizer was needed in Siem Reap. Within a night, the Beijing dryness had disappeared from our skin. The air was moist. The vegetation abundant and lush. After breakfast we set off to explore the countryside and make our way to Lake Tonle Sap. 

Filling the tank at a local fuel stop was a step back in time where simplicity ruled supreme. In fact, everything in Cambodia seemed so simple and uncomplicated. The people were extremely friendly and seemingly got on with the demands of daily life in a calm manner. One never forgets their suffering of the past, but I noted well that the Cambodians have a great capacity for moving forward with the gift of serenity. The fuel attendant wore only a colourful cloth around his waist as he guarded his depot of golden liquid. All of which had stood in the scorching sun whilst stored in huge plastic containers. 

My first impressions of Cambodia were of being bare foot and ankle-deep in mud. Of battling the intense humidity and heat. And of the poverty. Scratching just below the surface, I discovered a world of splendour, serenity and kindness. The beautiful faces of the Khmer people, their incredibly big hearts and the warmth they extended to us diminished the physical discomforts. I immediately felt as though I belonged where the fragrance of lemongrass filled the air. Where frogs created a symphony after heavy rains. Where pure simplicity was the order of the day.

We bounced along mud tracks for approximately fifteen kilometres. Witnessing life in its authentic form. Water covered most of the surface. Cows wandered freely everywhere. Children ran around naked chasing fat pigs. Their only toys being chickens, mud, sticks and stones.  An idyllic childhood it seemed. This was what we strived for in play-based education. Children learning from their environment. Through the most valuable art of play.  Water pumps stood proud advertising the kindness of the endless NGO’s doing wonderful work in the country.

 

Houses perched on tall wooden stilts, seeking refuge from the wrath of the unforgiving and relentless rainy season. Standing high above the ground, they looked quite fragile in their stance. As though they might blow over at any given minute. But, they stood firm against the forces of Mother Nature. As did the super-long-legged chickens of Cambodia.  Their designer-made legs seemingly matched the style of the houses. More than simplicity, extreme poverty ruled. Water stood stagnant everywhere. No doubt diseases were rife. 

We moved slowly through swamp areas and arrived at the river to board our long-tailed wooden boat. The captain couldn’t have been older than sixteen and would often stand and manoeuvre the boat in and out of the swamps, using an extremely long rod. At times, he used only his left big toe to steer the craft. When the rudder cable broke, he simply tied a knot in it and continued. 

 

We travelled the river slowly, witnessing children rowing themselves to school, women selling goods from their boats and firewood being carried downstream to restaurants. The floating village was fascinating. Every single structure is built on stilts – the police station, the school, the homes. There are no roads. Only waterways. Most of the houses have bamboo pens erected below the house. This is where the fish farming takes place. When the waters of Tonle Sap recede in February, this area becomes one of the richest fishing grounds in the world. 

 

Our boat navigated the gentle currents as we sat in silence simply absorbing this fascinating world.  Wooden boats sailed past. Their cargo diverse and heavy. Finally, we arrived at the mouth of the lake. I was completely in awe of the sheer mass of water. For as far as the eye could see, the lake stretched to the horizon and far beyond. Calm and peaceful.

Within an hour, Tonle Sap presented to us her darker side. Threatening dark clouds covered the skies. Winds appeared from nowhere, whipping the waters into a frenzy. Waves formed, bouncing us around like a cork on the turbulent waters. It was a surreal experience. Witnessing the extremes in weather, given the time period in which they changed so dramatically. Water and sky met somewhere along the horizon. United in power and mystery. One could not tell them apart. A massive palette of hues surrounded us. Shades of blues and angry purples gave way to the entire horizon disappearing into a dull, milky white. The calm before the storm.

Our captain suggested we head back to the safety of the harbour. With the memory of the broken cable fresh in our minds, the idea was well supported.

Those heavy, warm Cambodian rains fell from the sky like nothing I had ever witnessed before. Thundering down upon all and one trying desperately trying to keep dry.  Roads became submerged within minutes. Flowing waters ripped through anything in their paths. Young children scurried to the safety of higher rungs of the ladders leading to their homes. Having experienced these rains since birth no doubt, the children still shrieked with excitement.

With huge appetites taking control of our bodies, we made our way back to town in yet another beloved tuk-tuk. This one proudly bearing status in black with a hint of vintage. Once tucked up in the Khmer Kitchen, we ate Amok, the traditional meal of fish, coconut milk and other delicious ingredients, served on banana leaves. A succulent mango salad accompanied our meal.

Our week-long stay was spent walking the narrow streets of Siem Reap, eating Spekulaas-flavoured ice-cream of all things, drinking coffee and thoroughly appreciating the quaintness and charm of the town. As in most Asian countries, wealth and luxury often live side by side with poverty.  We found ourselves in the magnificent Raffles Grand Hotel d’Angkor inspecting the bathrooms. Rich and gorgeous is how I would explain that famous institution. Huge paintings adorned the walls with grandeur whilst hallways were full of high-end boutiques. A Buddha Exhibition was on display. The statues hauntingly beautiful in their graciousness. Needless to say, the expansive gardens were beautifully manicured.

 

To be continued …