After 4 months of reasonably diligent temple visiting, the average mortal feels fairly watted out. But the Angkor temples are something else - one of the world's wonders. Seeing sun rise behind Angkor Wat in the morning is just something else. It feels like the setting for a fantasy novel, another world (well, hence used as the setting for Tomb Raider, I guess). History (what I can remember without book to hand): The temples were built between 10th and 15th centuries, to honour the god-kings of the Angkor period, whose realm stretched across from southern Thailand to Vietnam, and up through most of Laos. There are about 50 of them, over a couple of hundred square miles in the uppermost area reached by the Tonle Sap lake&river when it reverses flow annually (Himilayan flood waters can't escape the Mekong delta and back up every year). All individually styled, mostly in a Buddhist / Hindu combination of styles. They were only found by Europeans just over a hundred years ago, and restoration has been slow, and much interrupted (the Pol Pot period destroyed records of many mid restoration, giving a massive headache that's ongoing - one of the regiemes more minor side effects)
Angkor Wat is the biggest and most spectacular, a few square miles in size with every inch, or so it seems, handcarved with something new; a giant moat around a giant outer wall around a giant inner wall leading to a cross of central temples with a final fulcrum temple at their intersection - remarkably small after all the fanfare without. My one archaeological deduction is that the Khmer had small feet and long legs: the steep steps leading up were the width of the average foot, and as high as the average knee - I also deduce that the Cambodians are going to have to install stairlifts for elderly litigious Americans at some point.
But my favourite was Bayon - vaguely pyramidal in style, but with hundreds of giant heads carved into all the towers, so everywhere you stand, there are 12 massive faces looking down at you with a disquieting smile. Even with other tourists around, it feels frightening. There's something about the human face, enlarged and frozen, which is imposing; having it multiplied by hundreds makes it more so; and the way they are carved into the rock makes them difficult to see, so as you stand there looking around, the stone swims and rearranges itself before your eyes, and you find another face is watching you, and another, and another. And Ta Promh was another favourite - it's been kept much as the original temples were found, with enormous bayon trees growing all over the stones, roots pouring like lava over carvings and through passages, with massive trees balanced ludicrously on top of 30 ft walls. And Srah Srang was another daily favourite - though not for ornate carvings: it's just a giant reservior (purpose unknown; there are no signs of using it for irrigation or anything useful), about a square kilometer of water with an old statued platform and steps leading down - which made for a refreshing swim mid visit each day. Didn't see any other tourists swimming there, but the local vendor kids splashed around happily enough, and we had a ball with them, towing them around at high speed, swimming under to duck them, threatening to attack, as they wove flowers into our hair and laughed away... until eventually they'd remember duty and start again on the t-shirt sales thing, at end of swim time.
Siem Reap has little else to offer besides the temples, though I highly recommend the blind massage - $3 an hour to be massaged by local blind people: virtue has rarely felt so good. Siem Reap also deserves mention as the home of the only bike drivers I've met whom I needed to tell to speed up. All Cambodian bikedrivers are well used to the roads and go bumping along the potholes at high speed without a thought for the rather more nervous western tourists clinging on behind - I normally hold the seat so tight to my ass I'm almost levitating - but these guys refused to go at more than an easy jog for almost the whole 3 days: on the last day, we were in a hurry to get back to get to the massage in time and urged them on and finally got them going at the heady speeds of 30mph (temple roads are excellent) - I was delighted to find I loved the speed; maybe I'm not such a wussy wimp as I thought on 2 wheels, or maybe the need for bikes has finally accustomed me back to them. And I bought some star sapphires in the local market - I can only assume they're fake, at $30 for them made into gold earrings, but the jewellers I've checked with are unable to tell. I've never seen such stones before - not sparkly like most are; just a dark blue which, when you shine a torch on it, shows a spiderish spindly star of light inside, shifting around the surface. Don't really care if they are fake.
So after 3 days temple tour, it was time to move on: we crossed the Tonle Sap lake to Battambang, and what a ride that was - a 400 hp speedboat of a type that you'd normally pay for a $10 for a 5 minute trip on; for a 2 hour trip at god knows what speed, weaving in and out of floating islands of waterlilies, down the paths of floating villages, past schools with rows of canoes tied outside their doors, down narrow flooded paths sometimes ending in dead ends as the flow shifted things around, turning at high speed through 90 degrees, all holding on tight as the boat shifted though just about every angle in a sphere. Arrived in Battambang to a riotous reception, the local bike drivers and hotel reps hurling themselves into the water and climbing in through the windows on top of us dripping to secure custom - they don't get many tourists there, apparently. But the landing was about as much life as you get there: it's the second city of the country, but very quiet and provincial. Just a one night stop: we met some really excellent bike drivers with good english and local historical knowledge for touring the local sights - killing fields (cave, to be exact) and local temple from Angkor period. All was well until it started to rain - not just rain: more like god turned a hosepipe on us. Off and into local hut; out again when it stopped and on till started again - each time we got half dry, another bathful descended. But glorious countryside, with the friendliest people; everyone saying hello and smiling and waving (man, I'm gonna miss that when I get back to London. I'm used to conducting myself as if in a regal procession at this stage, bestowing waves with grave dignity on the admiring crowds all round. Being shouldered as if I was a mere one of the herd will be a rude shock.).
And rush across the border and back to Bangkok. It felt like coming home, on my third visit to the place: so western, clean and civilised, decent roads, big city where everyone has their own business to mind and tourists aren't just moneybags open for the plucking. A big welcome from Mr Kai, the tour agency where I'd got my various tickets and stuff before - quite worryingly so: when I walked in out of the blue, a spare passport photo I gave him 2 months ago when getting visas, was sitting there in the middle of his desk under the glass, surrounded by the usual maps and brochures. Hummmm. Anyway, just a couple of days of sorting out visas (Oz work visa is easiest to get, so looks like I'll be based there rather than New Zealand - assuming I don't have TB, they're really paranoid about it and insist I have a chest x-ray), and shopping in the weekend market (excellent place, for non-shoppers and all, several square miles of almost anything - especially the pet section! hundreds of purebred utterly irrestistible puppies, all squeaking to be petted... Linda had to physically drag me away from some of them).
And finally farewell to Annick, who had to return to work in Paris to her utter disgust, and down with Linda and Leonie (a Dutch friend of Linda's) to Ko Pha Ngan for the full moon party. Returning there alone after having had a 3 week holiday there with Dani was not really a good idea, I guess, I was a bit miserable at the start of the night. But it was a hell of a party! No way could you avoid getting into the music, and dancing your cotton socks off... about 10,000 people on a mile long beach; 30 bars with giant speakers competing to max the bass and atmosphere; Loy Krathang (festival of lights - set fire to a candle on a flower plate and send it out to sea, or into the air in a balloon) and full moon and hallowe'en all rolled into one night. I danced for about 12 hours (drugless, by the way, apart from energy drinks and the odd bit of alcohol) and only stopped at 10am when I had to catch the ferry to Ko Tao. The atmosphere was great throughout; very happy people for various reasons; occasional rainstorms in the morning didn't do a thing to stop it - if anything, the harder it rained, the harder we danced (kinda a man-versus-nature thang, I guess - though in a rather urbane sense).
And now you are reading the words of a fully qualified scuba diver. Finally did my PADI course, finishing today. It is great, if rather unnerving, and makes for the world's most peculiar classroom for a school of humans to be sitting on the bottom of the ocean, earnestly studying as fish swarm along and tap you on the mask to get your attention, doubtless saying 'ooh, look at that funny colourdey one there ma...' - trying to gain buoyancy control, with various pupils accidentally shooting up and sinking down like a class in Harry Potter. The fish here are excellent, though the coral's seen a few too many humans I guess - but it's a helluva lot better than studying in a swimming pool.
Next is Krabi - I catch the nightboat tonight - to do some rockclimbing; then up north to Chiang Mai for a spot of courses in massage and kickboxing and cookery, or so I hope. I am in health buzz at the moment: I haven't smoked or drank since full moon (5 days!) - for no apparent reason other than the fact that the tailored trousers which fitted me fine in 'nam are now feeling a bit too snug. Too many tourbuses I guess.