Day 25: Angkor What?

Honestly, I'm just taking the line of least resistance. It just so happens that this route passes right by some of the wonders of the world, and it would be rude to go by without at least paying a quick visit, right?

Let's set the scene. Firstly, I'm in Cambodia. The rate at which these little countries can be crossed is bewildering me. At least in Russia and Mongolia I had a few days to work out how to say hello and how much a bottle of water cost. I'm now at the stage where I would have to check the stamps in my passport to remind myself where I was, if it weren't for the fact that each border really does bring with it a new personality and a fresh set of first impressions.

So what was Cambodia to me? It was chaos, of course. Beautiful, frustrating, charming, beurocratic chaos like you can only find in those countries that have, somewhere along the way, lost themselves to corruption or the advantages of wealthier nations. 

The speedboat, which I had eagerly anticipated, turned out to be a minibus, and with the minibus ticket I was somehow persuaded to book a hotel room. I had to close my eyes a few times as we performed overtaking manoeuvres that could have gone into a Hollywood car chase scene. Then a man with a tuktuk appeared to take me to the hotel, who began trying to guilt-trip me into giving him further business. 

"I don't want a tuktuk" I said.

"You must understand, this is how I make my little living, Sir".

"But I don't want a tuktuk" I said, handing over a dollar for the journey I didn't ask for.

"But how you get to Angkor Watt? When are you going there?"

"I don't want to see you again" I suddenly blurted out.

And so, despite my attempts to apologise, we didn't part the best of friends. It is an example though, of the great divide I was all too aware of between local and tourist in Cambodia. For the first time, I felt eyes on me that saw only the dollars in my pocket (I did make friends with a Cambodian, but he was in one of the best paid jobs, teaching at an international school).

The divide, and the chaos, reappeared in full when I tried to cycle into Angkor Watt, the world famous temple. I was singled out by a handful of guards at the edge of the road and asked to show my ticket.

"I was told it is free after 3pm".

"No, 5.30."

"Okay, where is the ticket office?"

"About 5 kilometres that way" he motioned back the way I had come.

"Of course."

You get the idea. I left the thousands of Cambodians streaming freely past the checkpoint, and went to pay my 37 dollars, trying not to think about where that small fortune was going to end up. 

You're probably appalled that I gave myself only four hours to explore this monstrous place, consisting of hundreds of temples, gates and monuments (and voted #1 tourist attraction in the world by lonely planet readers). But when you're on your own, and you have a bike, you can see a lot in that time, let me tell you. It was enough, at least, to come away with a couple of observations.

Firstly, why do tourists insist on all following each other along the same path, when there are hundreds of acres to explore? Whilst there were queues at the front, a lonely guard was getting bored at the back entrance to the main temple. I recommend riding along narrow dirt tracks through the beautiful rainforest.

Secondly, as hard as a tried, I couldn't see the temples for what they really were, i.e. ancient relics of a magnificent civilisation in the jungle. Why? Motorbikes, cars, music, horns, rubbish everywhere, and the crowds of locals who seemed to be just using it as their hangout. There was only one moment, as the sun was setting, and the whining of the cicadas drowned out the noise of the traffic, and the crowds started to thin, that I felt a little glimpse of appreciation for the history of the place. 

Perhaps someone with a better imagination could more easily erase the signs of modern life to sense the serenity of the setting and the indescribable grandeur these sacred buildings would have had a thousand years ago. But all the same, I hope that one day, the traffic and the rubbish will at least be kept further away.