Ta Prohm (3 Temples, Part III)

This final installment in our serial short film takes us on a rather hallucinatory journey through the final temple. Immortalized by the Tomb Raider films, Ta Prohm is an atmospheric, tumble-down wonder that can only be reached via a half-mile pathway through thick jungle.

Stax wanted to get across our total exhaustion, with sweltering 100 degree heat adding to mounting fatigue. The thickness of the heat and the cries of the jungle birds, along with the weirdness of the locale and a relentless stream of comically well-dressed tourists joined together to make this the most colorful of our temple experiences.

PHOTO ESSAY: Ek Phnom Temple or Can I get a wat?

Ek Phnom Temple

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The ancient ruins of Ek Phnom Temple are quiet most days of the week.  Monks peek curiously out of their bare wooden stilt houses at travelers. Dogs sleep in the sun, leaves rustle and families from surrounding villages picnic upon giant blocks of weathered and chiseled sandstone.  It is an impressive, but also defiantly local, attraction.

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Thought to have been built by the Angkor Empire in the early 11th century during  pre-Buddhist times, the original Wat still stands, but barely.  It has been semi-demolished by hundreds of years of looters – especially the Khmer Rouge, as legend has it – and also by time’s steady hand.

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Eighteen trees surround the Wat,  rumored to have sprouted from saplings from the original Bodhi Tree in India (under which the Buddha  attained enlightenment).

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Beej’s note: Mural in the new temple depicting mythical origins of the Buddhist holiday Madhu Purnima. The monkey traditionally offers Buddha honeycomb while the elephant offers fruit or bamboo. Not sure what these substances are in this painting..

The temple is now a visually chaotic jumble of gravity-defying, crazily leaning archways, stone blocks and crumbling walls.

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Its disrepair seems even starker next to the massive, gleaming new white and gold temple built just 10 years ago, and constructed (for some reason) directly in front of it.

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When we motorbiked out to the Wat, it was busier than usual due to a local festival.  We were there to film a large traditional wedding re-enactment put on during the festival by the people of the local villages along the Sangker River.

BUT…. the re-enactment didn’t happen. And nobody could explain to us exactly why.  We made the most of the day anyway, with Stax in her finest people-watching mode:

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Stax note: I really want to be part of whatever conversation they’re having. Looks intense.

 

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Stax note: This shot was taken right before the boy caught me and smiled. My favorite pictures of people are natural ones, and those aren’t easy to capture in a country where most people seem to love being in front of the camera.

 

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Stax note: I’ve been spotted. I wasn’t fast enough, but neither were the kids. The girl’s peace sign is only half way up.

 

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Stax note: That look between father and son right there…

 

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Stax note: And finally. This is one of my favorite pictures I’ve taken. It’s all because of the girl in the center with that huge grin – she just looks so darn happy to be sitting there, having her photo taken. It makes me smile every time I look at it.

VIDEO: Khmer New Year at Wat Ek Phnom!

While Stax recuperates from several days of excitement back in the guesthouse, Beej ventures out by motorbike through rural riverside villages to capture some of the experience of Khmer New Year.

Ek Phnom is a destination for New Year revelers around Cambodia, and the Misadventurists have heard that they may even be holding mock marriage ceremonies there – a perfect addition to the episode. But almost 15 kilometers of (water) war-torn landscape lies between Battambang and this temple: a daunting prospect on the New Year.

Lines of marauding water-bag chuckers immediately ambush Beej from either side of the dirt road.on his motorbike; almost all grinning pixie-ish toddlers who, seeing pale skin and bushy beard a mile away, scream a chorus of cute “HE-LLO”s as they fling plastic bags of nasty river water at him.

While many of these disease sacks sploosh harmlessly between his spokes or sail above his head, many find their marks perfectly on his bum, torso and helmet. And they are not as painless as water balloons. The plastic smacks stingingly before they explode.

What one must go through for Art.

For over an hour Beej weaves through knock-down, drag-out, epic water wars between what seems like whole villages – pickups with 10 teenagers in the back, standing and screaming, sound systems regurgitating deafening, hyped-up Cambodian pop as they man water cannons against their foes on the ground and in other trucks. Nearer the Wat, nefarious colleagues join the water-truck hooligans: skinny-jeaned, floppy-sandaled teens who run out in the road and form human chains to physically stop cars and motorbikes. Their dark purpose? To smear what appears to be Johnson’s Baby Powder all over the faces and necks of innocent motorists.

Very likely, the New Years shenanigans have a fascinating cultural or folkloric root in the mists of Cambodian history. But you can be sure that Beej is not contemplating this academically as he brakes, weaves, and struggles to avoid hitting people hell-bent on being hit by somebody.

(For a great overview of the Khmer New Year experience by another expat in Battambang, please check out this article by Jocelyn Post from worldnextdoor.org – it’s really well-written and is accompanied by fantastic images of the kind that Beej was too busy struggling to not fall over to take).

Finally, soaked through and dripping, beard dusted white, Beej arrives and parks his bike safe and sound at the Wat.

The Killing Caves of Phnom Sampeu: or How Cambodia’s History Continues to Break My Heart

Stax describes the overwhelming experience of visiting the Killing Caves of Phnom Sampeu.

Gypsy. Tramp. Thief.

We walk up a short hill through thick green vegetation. The flowers surrounding us smell so delicious, I want to drink them in a tea or press them onto my skin.

From up on top of this 1000 foot limestone mountaintop, the highest peak for miles around, you can see why Battambang has been nicknamed “the Rice Bowl of Cambodia”– rice fields run as far as the eye can see below.

My tiny young Cambodian guide leads us to a set of stone stairs that will take us down into a dank cave. He pauses, then points to his left. I crane my neck to see where he is gesturing. Then I see a second, smaller opening in the same cave system.

“You can go there,” he says.

I walk over and look down into the dark hole. I would need to get on my belly to squeeze through this…

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