Three days of monumental exploration were producing monumental temple fatigue. The third night we said goodbye to randy at the siem reap airstrip and returned to the Siem Reap Angkor Guest House for some R&R. Our fourth day we slept late and hardly left our room, that much time in the sun at that latitude causes some definite solar fatigue, and urban cave-dwellers such as ourselves required a radiation free day. That evening we sat down with our host Sokha, and grilled him on how we could get to some of the really remote sites. He seemed puzzled at our desire to go to so much trouble. We indicated that we very much wanted to get out to Beng Melea. His eyes widened, "Nobody goes out there." "Nobody?" we asked. "Nobody," he insisted, "except the Japanese!"

"Well then tomorrow we will join our brothers from Nippon."


The Japanese tourist is certainly not a do-it-yourselfer, and there was no way we were going to make the trip in any air-conditioned jeep or minibus.

We acquired some 500cc Kawasaki dirtbikes in the old market, offroad monsters suited to the terrain. Unable to leave his post as resident english speaker, Sokha arranged for his younger brother to accompany us as a guide. He warned us not to expect too much from Paal, describing him succinctly as "very lazy." Typical cambodian male.





Paal had no interest in obtaining his own bike, opting to ride bitch on adam's back. Our pace over the broken non-roads seemed to traumatize him, they were admittedly unnerving at times. A dusty two hour blur of villages, jungle, and road later we made it to the outskirts of Beng Melea. Paal had no interest in showing us around, and leaving him with the bikes was probably not a bad idea. A local villager accompanied us in, and although he knew not a word of english, we valued far greater his knowledge of landmine locations.

adam and the khmer boy he rented for the day

Beng Melea is not clear of mines, an effort only began last august with majority funding coming from the US State Department. it would be a long time before any restoration efforts even began, clearing the mines is a significant undertaking.

or both

this decrepit laminated map was the prize possession of the khmer man accompanying us, he treated it with great delicacy and ritual

the amount of growth and jungle made it difficult to immediately appreciate the enormity of the site. It must have been "lost" for a considerable time, the jungle incursion seemed to be the only damage sustained. Perhaps the remoteness of the site away from the main Angkor complex contributed to its survivability.

this hall had been cleared, and was the one of the most complete interior expanses we had seen

einsurtzende altbauten

lowrider

we were mostly alone up to this point apart from our guide and some loitering khmer children

inner enclosure wall

impressive rubble

one of the libraries

for the angkor pictures i have opted for illustrative over compositional, sometimes can manage both

some indigenous simians

the ruins themselves make for great traversing, the elevation alleviating mine-anxiety

we did encounter some of the notorious nipponese explorers. here they are seen committing a seemingly innocuous act of sharing some of their fancy jap candy with some of the village children. it is these ego-indulging acts of pseudo-benevolence that turn quiet, behaved children into depraved obnoxious fix-demanding addicts. the 'one rupee one pen one chapati one chocolate' kids of india weren't that way until some tour group came through glad-handing out treats. it's that whole 'fostering dependence' thing. please do not do this. if somebody offers you a service of some type, then compensate them appropriately. don't go around impressing yourself by "helpin' the little people." you're not.

this library with elevated causeway is total fantasy

your dirty, sweaty, humble narrators (the one-arm selfportrait trick)

some hot naga balustrade action

thems' some vicious Nagas. awesome carving. best condition ive ever seen one in.

after a few hours of wandering, we found Paal snoring under a palm tree and motored out. another hour.five of tenuous sand surfing on the rubber tongue found us in a hilly valley region a few dozen kilometres northeast of Banteay Srei.

the red of the sweat-caked road mud contrasted the eery green place. we weren't sure where we were but it seemed they were expecting many more visitors then would possibly make it out here.

Before we were fully dismounted, Paal had found himself a hammock to lounge in and pointed in the direction we were to proceed, mumbling something about a waterfall. the forty minute hike through the densely jungled hills was worth the trip alone. i'm not much of one for entymological appreciation, but there were thousands of these nifty butterflies in a variety of colors. most were electric neon colors, and although in close proximity to other groups, settled and associated only with those of the same color. nature can be so backwards.

eventually the trail led to a stream, the bottom of which had been hand-carved at some time

although there were no obvious or discernable structures/temples, there were concentrations of carving in some areas. it seemed a nature temple, with reliefs placed on natural surfaces along the stream in an outdoor environment instead of covering interior temple structures. if not entirely a place of spirituality, there was also an air of decadence, as if this tastefully decorated and oriented space could have been some sort of pleasure garden/area of the royalty. I have heard it referred to as the "River of 1000 Lingas"

he was compiling a detailed survey of the work

sketching a proportional facsimile

the course of the water probably ran at one time through a carefully carved channel, since worn into a deep rut. the carving here occurs in naturally occuring locations instead of artificially constructed structure

large lotus shapes emerging from the water

the "waterfall" Paal must have been referring to

hiking back, there were not many hours of light remaining. we awoke paal, who seemed eager to get back to siem reap. an hour later we were cruising past the Bayon when we reminded him that returning to the guest house meant being required to work. He subsequently offered to lead us out to the West Baray, the enormous artificial reservoir built to support Angkor.

after a day of hard off-roading, a ruddy cloud of cambodian soil formed in the water as it departed my skin and clothing. with it went the weariness from many days of intense action. adam had some lame excuse why he couldnt immerse himself. he also disobeyed a direct order, but then again, he has zero willpower when confronted with naked brown children