An insane king surrounded by North Korean bodyguards, (he can't trust his own people as guards), one prince who is Prime Minister, one who is broke in Parisian exile, because he planned to kill the other prime minister. One prime minister encouraging the Khmer Rouge to give up, another encouraging them to stay in the jungle. A divided military who supports one or the other prime minister. Hundreds of wanted criminals hiding in Phnom Penn because there is no computer system at the airport. Cops moonlighting as robbers. Gunfire disturbing tourists' dreams. The world's most densely mined country, and battle-hardened terrorists still planting them in the outer provinces. Storming villages, killing and stealing before retreating back to their jungle lairs. Amputees hobbling after money. street beggars rolling in the dust to make themselves look more pitiful.

A porous Thai border allowing gems and timber smuggling to trade for weapons and food, ensuring the anti-government struggle continues indefinitely. Marijuana costs $20 a kilo there, girls cost $2 a shot, but you're betting against the house -- 40% AIDS rate and climbing.

I took the fast boat from Phenom Penn to Sieng Riep, 600 horsepower hooked onto a sleek hull that slices through the water with awesome speed. Lying on the roof with the luggage, hair flapping wildly all the way. Frying flesh in the pitiless sun. One engine blew up. Took three hours to attach another one. By the time I got there I was burning with fever.

Two days down time in a hotel room, alone with technicolor nightmares. Until I felt well enough to clamber on the back of a motor bike and see stone sculpted dreams, a carved cosmology, an awesome totalitarian effort dedicated to Shiva, to Buddha, but mainly to grandiose conquering Khmer dreams. A sky-piecing effort to conquer nature, which flaps on the red and blue flag of the only nation which revolves around a building. A building which has been desecrated, sliced, ripped and torn apart and sold to philistine foreigners. Temples rescued from the stone-eating jungle.

Now all that remains is the husk, the hull. But even that is enough to inspire, to falbbergast; making the mind flop around uselessly like a fish out of water, seeking superlatives, seeking comparisons. The only one that is perhaps possible is that of Machu Picchu in Peru. Or Borobodur in Java. By the third night my dreams had turned to the such luscious colors and images I was afraid someone had dropped acid in my dinner. Clouds of dandelions wafted over half-closed eyes. The most intense coloration and design -- ultimately I feared I was going to die. Nobody should be allowed to live and see such beauty. I turned off the dream flow at about 5 am, fearing if I wallowed submerged in such a beautiful world I couldn't emerge again.

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