The dust from Angkor and the shift inside

My shoes still have the dust from Angkor on them.

January 2019. Morning. Siem Reap. 10 minutes to sunrise. A veritable Tower of Babel all around. French, German, Arabic, Russian. A few I didn’t recognize.

A quarter moon hanging in the inky blue-black sky. Two stars. A dim outline of looming structures against the dark sky. What mysteries were about to be revealed to me I wondered.

My day began at 3.15 that morning. A cold shower. A warm croissant. Some water. At around 4.30 am, as promised a smiling Mr. Phal (pronounced Paul) along with minivan and driver presented themselves at the hotel entrance. The other mostly silent, half-asleep occupants of the van included a young East European man (Hungarian, I think), a young couple- she, Serbian, he, Swiss. A group of three French-Canadians. Along the way we picked up an Irish couple. We proceeded to the ticketing center, which is about 4 Kms from the actual Angkor Archaeological Park. I thought this was a superb idea guaranteed to avoid chaos at the actual site.

Ticketed and armed with water and coffee and bananas we got back in the van and proceeded to Angkor. The roads at that time of day were unlit. I could make out some trees on both sides and not much else. There were locals (farmers I assume) walking along the side of the road. I had noticed that this was a country where people rose early. I assume because it is an agricultural country. I did wonder too if the choice to not have too much street lighting along the way was a deliberate one. It did add to the mystery of it all.

Soon we were at the main ticketing checkpoint. We didn’t even have to get out of the van. Two young women came to the vehicle and checked all of our passes, thanked us and send us on our way. While this was happening, I noticed a well-dressed Chinese couple sitting on chairs at the checkpoint while a balding man was trying to sell them on a seemingly ridiculously priced private tour of what I’m not exactly sure.

And then we drove on for what seemed like less than a minute. The vehicle stopped and Phal asked us to get off. We started walking. There were other people in front of our little group. It was pitch black save for the headlights of some vehicles and once those fell behind us, people started turning on their mobile flashlights.  We went up a wooden incline and then down the other side. And then we started walking on what felt like floating plastic barrels. A temporary bridge while the actual bridge was being restored.

The famed moat around Angkor Wat stretched out on either side. Dark and silky ripples. Not for protection, Phal said. This is the cosmic ocean.

We were crossing over to the other side of the cosmic ocean. The moment was rich with symbolism. All of us from around the world together crossing the cosmic ocean. Some of us silent, and others, perhaps unsettled by the dark embracing us, spoke in hushed tones.

And then we were on the other side. The crunch of sandy soil underfoot. A cool, gentle pre-dawn breeze. Phal stops and tells us that we could now do as we wished. Find a spot to sit or to stand and wait. We were literally going to spend the next 20 minutes or so waiting for the sun to come up. He would meet us back at the same spot at 6.20 am he said.

We wandered off. In groups, pairs, alone. I stood still for some time. Absorbing the atmosphere of the place. Gazing up at the bright piece of moon hanging above me. The reflecting pool near which we were standing was almost dry. January is the dry season in Cambodia. Off to the right was a copse of palm trees. A path disappearing into the woods nearby. From somewhere in the distance I could hear the soft beating of drums and a vague music I couldn’t identify. I’m still not entirely sure where this was coming from.

I wandered away from the people gathering to watch the sunrise. I wanted to be at a vantage point from which to take it all in. To observe the observers as well as the magnificence we had all come to look at. And most of all to be as alone as I could be when I first saw it.

The sky slowly began to lighten. For one breathless moment before the light was bright enough to discern everything around me, it could have been any century. A time when all of this was still resplendent and glorious. When kings who could bring the gods to earth, still wandered these spaces.

Let me tell you that nothing will prepare you for the view as the sky gets ever lighter and more and more details are revealed. At one point I turned around and looked behind me and there were smaller structures and one of them had a group of people stretched out and just gazing at the Wat. Not a phone or camera in sight. Just looking. They looked like they were tripping. But I'm guessing they were just blissed out at the magnitude of what was in front of them. 

I think by now the whole world has seen photographs of this place. And a little time on Google will tell you all you need to know about the facts of the place. But I cannot see how anyone could fail to be impressed by how such a place as this came to be.

Human ingenuity, strength, and imagination coming together at a time when technology as we know it now didn’t exist. This was magnificent and awesome in the very essence of that word.

It shifts something inside. Opens you up in profound ways.

It’s been a week and more. The ordinary has rushed in to take over but…

I still have the dust from Angkor on my shoes…