ASIA TRAVEL EXPERIENCE BLOG

Old Market, Tonle Sap and Apsara are intriguing attractions that enhance the undiscovered allure of Siem Reap, as ANDREW PONNAMPALAM discovers

EVER since the ancient Hindu temple complex of Angkor Wat was publicised to the West by the French explorer Henri Mouhot in the mid-19th Century, it has become an icon of modern tourism. Hordes of tourists fly into the quaint little town of Siem Reap in Cambodia, en route to this archaeological wonder. Hotels, restaurants and resorts are springing up on the outskirts of this town, especially along National Highway Six and the road to the Siem Reap International Airport. Having toured these awesome monuments on more than one occasion, I must confess that I find Siem Reap’s greatest attractions in very different places.

Siem Reap Town itself, for example, is replete with nostalgia harkening back to a carefree time now almost forgotten. The quaint European and Chinese-style architecture in the Old French Quarter, and around the Old Market, speak volumes about the rich cosmopolitan heritage that characterised this lovely old town in a bygone era.

My favourite hangout was the Old Market, experienced best just after dawn. Dew-fresh vegetables, flowers and fruits were heaped in neat piles, their sweet fragrances mingling with the heady scent of spices and herbs, plus the stronger aroma of freshly-ground coffee-beans and the strong smell of glistening fresh fish, brought in from the great inland sea called the Tonle Sap, and from the clear streams and rivers around the town.

These days the wares at Siem Reap’s Old Market also include handicraft, souvenirs, antiques, curios and a host of other touristy stuff like T-shirts and postcards. Gems and silks fill another corner of this bustling commercial centre. The vendors, in their colourful sarongs, are mostly women, a fact hinting at the tragic lost generation of Cambodia, where an estimated million or more able-bodied men were slaughtered in the Khmer Rouge genocide of the 1970’s.

Today, the pain of the past seems gone, covered by the vibrancy and excitement of a burgeoning economy and a flourishing tourist-trade. The new generation of young men in Siem Reap appear fully occupied with the increasing numbers of international visitors, haggling over taxi-fare or the price of an ornately-decorated Apsara doll.

• Andrew Ponnampalam is an award-winning Travel & Aviation Writer and Consultant who has visited nearly 450 destinations around the world, and is passionately committed to the Sustainable Development of Tourism.

Dancing Nymphs
The Apsara is certainly not something to be missed. The word itself is the name given to fabled celestial nymphs who dance for the gods in ancient Hindu and Buddhist mythology. In Siem Reap, the term refers to a major form of Khmer dance which has its roots in ancient animism and primitive magic, with Hindu and Buddhist influences incorporated over the centuries.

In Siem Reap, there are Apsara dance performances every night at the larger restaurants, with strong Angkor elements that make the ornate bas-reliefs of the Angkor complex seem to come alive in an enchanting and memorable way. Compared to traditional dances in Thailand and other parts of Indochina, I found some of the Apsara dance movements ethereal and feather-like, enhancing the overall fabled mystique of beauty and enchantment.

Feathered Beauties
Feathers are another reason why tourists visit the town of Siem Reap. As an avid birdwatcher, I was fascinated to find that more and more ecotourists from all over Europe, North America and Asia are flocking to the Prek Toal Bird Sanctuary at the core of the world-acclaimed Tonle Sap Biosphere Reserve. Described as “the single most important breeding-ground in Southeast Asia for globally-threatened large waterbirds”, this birdwatching haven covers over 31,000 hectares at the northwest tip of the Tonle Sap Lake, just a short drive from Siem Reap town.

I was enthralled with the large flocks of snowy-white egrets, elegant herons, lovely purple gallinules, long-legged storks and exotic ibis.

Friends regaled me with tales of amazing pelicans, cheeky jacanas, elusive rails and impressive cormorants. My most inspiring memory is watching the awesome grey-headed fish eagles using their magnificent wing-span to soar high above, sharp eyes always alert and fearsome talons ever ready to strike at the sight of fish in the clear waters of the largest inland lake in this part of the world. Over 230 species of birds have been recorded here, and many of these flourish because of the bountiful variety and amount of fish in the Tonle Sap.

Gentle People
Like the birds, people also thrive on the bounty of the Tonle Sap. It is estimated that up to 75 per cent of all fish in Cambodia come from this area, and that nearly 3 million people in the country owe their livelihood in some way to the fishing industry of the lake and its feeder river, the mighty Mekong. Get off the beaten track around Siem Reap, and you will discover a world of wonder and delight — a realm with gentle, smiling people eking a tenuous living with an intriguing blend of timeless traditions and modern ingenuity.

Alone among the lakeside communities of the world, the resourceful people of the Tonle Sap cope with two unique phenomena. First, the waters of this great lake change direction twice a year due to the monsoon floods and the distinctive contours of the hinterland. For the same reasons, the lake also changes its size and depth very dramatically, with water rising from anywhere between one metre and nine in different seasons.

The result is a bewildering array of water-villages, houseboats, floating shelters and “detachable” homes — the latter being simply uprooted and transported to a different location as the need arises!

Shops, clinics, schools, and even churches float on pontoons, rafts or platforms, while an entire flotilla of small boats congregate to form a waterborne market. Children paddle nonchalantly about this community in aluminium containers, plastic buckets and styrofoam boxes, oblivious to the bemused looks on the faces of first-time visitors.

I smile at the tourists in the next boat checking the digital images they have taken of the simple fishing folk, the gorgeous birds and the resplendent Apsara dancers they watched last night, and I think to myself that feathers, fish and fables are just some of the hidden treasures of the delightful town called Siem Reap.

by ANDREW PONNAMPALAM
traveltimes@nstp.com.my

Tags: angkor, apsara, Cambodia, Siem Reap, tonle sap

The temple complex at Angkor Wat is the most popular tourist destination in Cambodia. It is located in the city of Siem Reap, which is about a one-hour plane ride from the capital of Phnom Penh. Angkor Wat is the most famous temple in this area; however there are dozens of other temples to see in the immediate area.

Seasons
Avoid coming to Angkor Wat between May and October. This is the rainy season in Cambodia. About 75 percent of the annual rainfall in Cambodia occurs during this time. Because Cambodian streets do not have much of an irrigation system, even half an hour of heavy rain could mean flooding in the streets.

Visit Angkor Wat between November and March. This is the dry season in the country. Although there may be some rain, there will not be nearly as much as there is in the rainy season.

If it can be avoided, do not plan your trip to Angkor Wat in April. This is by far the hottest month of the year in Cambodia. Temperatures are regularly above 95 degrees during this month. Because there is a lot of walking involved when going from one temple to the next, it can be uncomfortable to walk in the heat of Angkor Wat at this time.

Time of Day
There are certain times in the day when it is better to visit Angkor Wat because grounds are more sparse and because pictures come out better. If visiting the temples around Angkor Wat early in the morning, go to the Angkor Wat Temple first and take photos there from across the moat. Doing this will allow you to capture a photo as the sun rises behind Angkor Wat. The light will reflect off of the moat around the temple in the picture.

To get more interesting photos inside of the Angkor Wat temple, come later in the day around dusk. There are often religious meetings held in the temple at this time. It is acceptable to watch the people at the temple pray and worship. You also may take pictures. These worship sessions include praying to Buddha and playing music.

Spend some time around the temple during sunset. Just as the sunlight is prone to make pictures turn out better in the morning, the same is true in the evening as the sun is going down. The crowds at Angkor Wat are also more sparse in the evening, which makes it easier to see what you want to see.

by Chad Buleen/Ehow

Tags: Angkor Wat, Cambodia, visit angkor

The sandstone temple Angkor Wat, located in Cambodia, ranks as one of the world’s largest religious structures and among Southeast Asia’s most significant archaeological sites, according to UNESCO. Built during the 12th-century reign of the Khmer Empire’s Suryavarman II, the temple originally honored the Hindu god Vishnu. Angkor Wat is now a UNESCO World Heritage site.

Laterite
Angkor Wat’s foundation is made of laterite, a red, porous soil that has a high iron content. Laterite is found in hot and wet tropical environments such as Southeast Asia. At Angkor Wat, builders dug up the laterite and formed it into blocks or bricks, which dried when exposed to air. They also used laterite in building the temple’s outer walls.

Sandstone
Sandstone is the main building material for Angkor Wat’s walls and towers. Researchers from Japan’s Waseda University identified three types of sandstone based on color, texture, chemical composition and mineral content. The researchers found gray to yellow-brown sandstone, red sandstone and green graywacke, a hard sandstone. Water, weathering, bat droppings, trees, algae and lichens have damaged the stones.

Construction
Beginning around 1113, slaves, masons, sculptors and other laborers spent 37 years erecting Angkor Wat. Workers cut sandstone from a nearby quarry, floated the blocks down the Siem Reap River and then dragged them ashore with ropes, rollers and winches. Workers smoothed the sandstone blocks and fitted them in place, sometimes using bronze clamps. In some areas of Angkor Wat, the stones are fitted so precisely that workers did not need mortar or fastenings.

Other Materials
Other materials used to build and decorate the temple have disappeared. Some of the temple’s stone sculptures were decorated with gold and precious stones. Gold also coated towers and rooftops. The furnishings included carpets, silk hangings, bronze weapons and Chinese pottery and ceramics. The stones that remain are covered with carvings and bas-reliefs. The subjects include gods, humans, animals, battles and female spirits known as apsaras.

Size
Angkor Wat is a huge rectangular building that measures about 4,920 feet by 4,260 feet. A moat about 820 feet wide surrounds the temple. The temple originally formed part of the kingdom’s administrative and religious center. Most of those other buildings were built of wood with terracotta roofs and did not survive the centuries. Stone was a special material, used only for temples and other sacred monuments.

by Cameron Delaney

Tags: angkor temples, Angkor Wat, Cambodia

Visiting Kompong Khleang, 35km south of Siem Reap on the Tonle Sap lake, made a welcome change from temples and the tourist trail. During the rainy season, the lake floods the village, so the buildings are built on stilts high enough to withstand the water level.

As it is still only the very beginning of the rainy season, the houses towered above the ground as we walked down the one road, something of a curiosity for the village children. A boat trip down to Tonle Sap lake took us to the floating part of the village where people live and fish during the drier months before the rains come and the lake grows.

TravelPod

Tags: Cambodia, house on stilt, Kompong Khleang, Siem Reap

Oum Sok began working as a cyclo driver when he was 18. He says the city has become very expensive over the years, making it much harder to earn a living.

The cyclo has been a distinctive feature of Phnom Penh’s streets for 70 years, stretching back to the days when Cambodia was a French colony. But this form of transport has begun to fade away.

New York has its yellow cab. London has its red bus. But Phnom Penh has its cyclo – a three-wheeled bicycle with the driver perched on high above the rear wheel, and the passengers in a bucket seat slung between the two front wheels.

This iconic vehicle has proved a comfortable – if slow – way of getting around Cambodia’s capital for the best part of a century. But that is changing.

Sharp decline

In the past decade the number of cyclos on the city’s streets has declined sharply. Im Sambath heads the Cyclo Conservation and Career Association, which looks out for the interests of the drivers.

Im Sambath is the head of the cyclo association. He says tourism is the way forward for the city’s embattled cyclo drivers.

VOA – R. Carmichael
Im Sambath is the head of the cyclo association. He says tourism is the way forward for the city’s embattled cyclo drivers.

“Now we have around 1,300 cyclo drivers in Phnom Penh. But from our survey, in 1999 [we had] around 9,000 cyclos,” he notes.

He estimates in five years, there could be only 500 or 600 cyclos left.

Why it’s happening

Im Sambath says there are a number of reasons for the decline – from the changing travel habits of the Phnom Penh’s citizens to the rise of the tuktuk – a motorized rickshaw.

“And tuktuks are quicker than cyclo, and can take their equipment from the market or something else easier than a cyclo,” he says.

VOA – R. Carmichael
Im Sambath is the head of the cyclo association. He says tourism is the way forward for the city’s embattled cyclo drivers.

Cyclo drivers pay around 25 cents a month to join the Cyclo Association. The hundred or so members get washing facilities, HIV/AIDS education and other health benefits.

But most valuably, they get access to foreign tourists. Im Sambath says as local demand drops, foreign tourists are the future.

The association works with travel agents to arrange cyclo tours of Phnom Penh, in which tourists are pedaled around this flat city’s compact array of sights.

Oldest driver

The association’s oldest member, Oum Sok, 75, began working as a cyclo driver at age 18. He says the city has become very expensive over the years, making it much harder to earn a living.
VOA – R. Carmichael

The association’s oldest member, Oum Sok, 75, began working as a cyclo driver at age 18. He says the city has become very expensive over the years, making it much harder to earn a living.

The association’s oldest cyclo driver is 75-year-old Oum Sok. He has been pedaling the city’s streets since he was 18.

Like most drivers, Oum Sok is from rural Cambodia where there is little work. Like them, he parks his cyclo on the sidewalk each night in a gaggle of other drivers, and sleeps in the bucket seat.

Ferrying tourists provides a reasonable living. Oum Sok earns $8 from the association for a day’s work, plus any tips.

But it is no fortune. While waiting outside the city’s National Museum for the tourists to emerge, he talks about the changes in his half century of pedaling people around Phnom Penh.

Down, but not out

He says when he was young, he could earn a lot, but now everything is expensive. Another thing is that the customers do not want to take a cyclo with an old man like him driving.

But he acknowledges his age can prove a benefit. In a culture that respects age, Cambodians tend to tip better than the tourists.

But tourists may be the way forward for most cyclo drivers.

Australian Margie Edmonds has just spent the morning as part of a cyclo tour with about 20 tourists.

“Well I just thought it was the most amazing way to do it,” she says. “Their [the drivers] understanding of the traffic, and their kindness. It was one of the best experiences I’ve had in Asia. Great fun, very safe and very comfortable vehicles too.”

Back at the association, Im Sambath says the cyclo is down, but not out.

He is optimistic that targeting the two million tourists visiting Cambodia each year will allow the dwindling stock of drivers to provide for their families in the provinces.

VOA

Tags: Cambodia, cyclo, phnompenh

There’s a big street barbeque scene in Siem Reap. On the pavements between the Old Market and the night market, sizzle and smoke do a simultaneous assault on the senses.

First on the nose. Delicious plumes fueled by fat on the coals is surely a trail that’s been followed by humans and animals alike for a very long time. I challenge anyone to come up with a more effective food marketing strategy. The sound of searing and crackling can be heard.

And just about then, the eyes hit upon a whole length of footpath decorated in barbeque. Competing vendors display their meat treats with flair; chicken, onion and capsicum kebabs, next to prawns on ice, next to marinated hunks of steak, next to spare ribs, next to chicken wings, legs and thighs. It’s like the shop front window of a gourmet butcher.

Except we’re street side in temple town, Cambodia. The boy-chefs are in the white attire of the trade, tonging the customers’ orders over and along the flame and onto the plates, where salad leaves await, drizzled in thoughtful homemade dressing. A collection of bowls in front of the barbeque hold sauces for all tastes; fiery ones, rich ones, fruity ones and salty ones, all lined up like paint class at kindergarten.

They can be spooned into ramekins, taken to the table and applied to the meat.

Lining the wall around the adjacent building is the makeshift bar, bottles of spirits set up next to a little glass cabinet containing fruit for juicing and blending. But my antipodean upbringing steers me away from these options to the esky full of ice cold Angkor beer. Real barbeque drink.

The necessary elements of a good old-fashioned barbie, minus perhaps the backyard game of cricket, are available on the tourist trail in Cambodia. Plates loaded up with meat, salad, beer, sauce, all enjoyed on a sultry hot evening.

Appropriately named and inappropriately (dirt cheap!) priced.

Stickyrice

Tags: bbq, Cambodia, food, night market, seafood, Siem Reap, street food

Hidden among Apsaras and multi-armed Vishnus on the eight-hundred-year-old temple walls of Angkor are carvings of cooks holding skewered fish over fire.

A delivery of chickens speeds towards Phnom Penh. Photos by Darrin DuFord.

That’s right, barbecues side by side with celestial maidens and gods.

Cambodia has carried its penchant for barbecue and other glorious forms of cooking through dark times, enduring war and genocide a generation ago, and has emerged stronger than ever.

My wife and I always find ourselves reverse-engineering new dishes in our travels to uncover what they are made of. While ingredient hunting in Cambodia, we began to learn how the country is both enjoying and reinventing its culinary pride. Do I hear the sound of eight-hundred-year-old spirits licking their lips?

The Edible Skyline
At first glance, the Angkor Archaeological Park might not seem like a place to meet living residents.
But the four hundred square kilometers of the park are so spread out that several communities live on the roads connecting the ruins. And with communities comes commerce. We stopped at a roadside vendor and peeked into a giant wok swirling with sweet, bubbling sap.

As the vendor stirred the boiling juice, her sister was busy knocking the freshly cooled sap out of little palm-frond rings, revealing disks of palm sugar. They serve as a main element in Cambodian cookery, used in everything from curries to stews. About three million sugar palm trees punctuate the countryside of Cambodia, and serve as a national symbol of the country — appearing on several of the country’s banknotes.

Palm trees are just as much a part of the skyline of the Angkor Archaeological Park as the towers of the ruins, and just as important to Cambodians because they provide a renewable source of sweetness.
And sweetness is just one benefit of the tree.  The deep roots protect against erosion, the leaves are harvested for weaving roofs and hats, and the sugar is fermented into palm wine. Sold in tourist markets and drugstores (the price in the latter about half what it costs in the former), the palm wine comes in various strengths.

With its rustic flavor somewhere between apple cider and sake, the eleven-percent alcohol variety went down smoothly, although I didn’t feel as deserving of the drink as the farmers who have to climb up the trees every morning to harvest the sap.

The Pond That Gives Back

In a country in which flooding is both a perilous and life-bringing feature of the seasons, Cambodians have put their water, dirty or otherwise, to good use. I was reminded of this when we sat down at a bustling bus-stop restaurant in the city of Kampong Thom for a dish of stir-fried water spinach. Less bitter and more stalky than regular spinach, water spinach (also called morning glory) is a fast-growing vegetable that is high in potassium and iron and is often grown in ponds and rivers around the lowland Cambodian home.

A vendor at the Kampot market makes coconut waffles on a griddle greased with coconut oil.

The crop even grows well in dirty water. A cab driver told me that Cambodians feed the water spinach grown in dirty water to pigs, and save the clean-water plants for people. In case the bundles at the market had become mixed up, I was glad my dish was well stir-fried.

While many Americans enjoy paying a fat water bill to feed an ornament known as the front lawn, many rural Cambodians — whose houses line the road in the same coziness as suburban houses in the States — utilize that valuable real estate between road and front door for growing and raising food. If a house’s front door doesn’t overlook a troupe of roaming chickens, turkeys, and cows, it often opens up to a shallow pond used for growing tasty plants such as water spinach in the wet season. The ever-versatile aqua-lawn also doubles as a kiddie pool.
I’m not recommending that Americans should start planting water spinach around their mailboxes just yet. Its vigorous growth that makes it a blessing for Cambodians is the same vigorous growth that has earned it status as an invasive species in the States.  Better hold off on planting those seeds until water spinach coleslaw catches on at the all-you-can-eat buffet.

The Urban Sophistication of Livestock
When we entered the traffic free-for-all of Phnom Penh, our tuk-tuk driver somehow merged into a stream of two, three, and four-wheeled vehicles, some of which balancing live piglets or chickens on wooden racks. A jousting of snout and beak. We were left wondering if our to-be dinner had just deftly passed us on a motorcycle. Just about everything in Cambodia, at one time or another, has dangled off the side of a motorbike — from bed frames to one-hundred-pound sacks of rice to entire families of four.

Crab–choose the liveliest ones.

A single eighty mile-per-gallon motorcycle can transport two-dozen live chickens tied upside down to bamboo beams, putting a gas-abusing pickup to shame. Such cleverness and efficiency is remarkable, but I would guess that the unlucky chicken whose head hangs right in back of the tailpipe would end up tasting a little funky.

We played tailpipe roulette and won, scoring tender, egg-battered strips of chicken that we grilled on a hubcap-like contraption known as a chhnang phnom pleung, a tabletop Cambodian barbecue pot at Frizz Restaurant. We also saved room on the grill for strips of steak. And speaking of steak, Phnom Penh apparently has its beef supply covered too.

In the city’s outskirts, any vacant lot between buildings may become a plot to graze a cow. Both cow and owner, recent transplants from the countryside, adapt to city life together. Where there are no fences, the cows make like monks and cross the streets at their own pace, blissfully unconcerned about the oncoming barrage of combustion engines that must weave around them.

Syrup?  We Don’t Need No Stinkin’ Syrup
Soon after arriving in the southern town of Kampot, My wife and I ducked into the covered market for relief from the sadistic Cambodian sun. We navigated a visual cacophony of pig heads, piles of dragon fruit, cigarettes in bulk like an addict’s honeycomb, motorcycle parts. We tried — but failed — to act like we’ve seen it all before.

A palm sugar stand is worth a stop when “templed out” in Angkor.

But between the doorknob and drill vendors: a woman making a fresh batch of coconut waffles? There was no use in disguising my giddiness; the sweet scent of grilling batter had disarmed me.  The Kampot market would not be complete without such a tantalizingly perverse twist of cultures, brought to you by a past bout with colonialism.

It has been over fifty years since the French colonial period ended in Cambodia, but a few culinary elements of the era have taken root, like fresh baguettes in the morning and a penchant for red wine.

The coconut waffles, however, seem to embody how the country has chosen to digest its colonial past. Shaking up the standard waffle recipe by using coconut milk instead of dairy milk and placing the griddle over a barbecue pit — either out of creativity or necessity, or both — the Khmers have successfully one-upped the common breakfast staple.

Thanks to palm sugar, the Khmer waffle does not need syrup or butter to make it tasty. The waffle vendor just puts the 1,000-riel (25-cent) waffle in a to-go plastic bag and you eat it like a candy bar. She opened up an almost toothless grin at my creative pronunciation of Khmer numbers. I realized that I had just been ruined for regular waffles.

I haven’t heard of any Cambodians chiseling out narrative friezes anymore, which is unfortunate because this updated barbecue scene, with charred waffle iron and all, would create a refreshing slice of life image next to bas-reliefs of motorcycle-riding monks.

Rebirth of the Kampot Pepper
The tranquil beach town of Kep is often overlooked except for two local specialties: crab and peppercorns. Exploiting a serendipitous combination, the town unites them in the same dish.

Crab with fresh Kampot peppers

At Kimly, an over-the-seaside restaurant recommended by our young guide Pari (a guide in Kep is generally a local with a car who wants to make a few extra riels that day), we discovered how the fiery fruitiness of the fresh green peppercorns mingled with the sweetness of the fried crab (26,000 riels, or $6.50), caught that morning.

The irritable rain pelting the Gulf of Thailand just outside the window failed to sour the lingering rumble of lust and spice in our mouths.

The meal was a mood changer; with the crab and Kampot pepper in front of me, the rain became enchanting ambience. I even found myself saying things like, “A monsoon season would be kind of lame without monsoon rains, wouldn’t it?”

Before we had eaten, Pari, eager to illustrate the intimacies of Kep’s food supply, had grabbed our crabs from the crab market next door and brought the frisky fellows into the restaurant to prove the critters’ liveliness. The green peppercorns — soft, fresh, and still on the stalk — enlightened us on what we have been missing throughout all of our dried-peppercorn lives, bringing us closer yet to the short paths that our lunch took from sea and farm to table.
But we were about to get closer. Dodging cattle that weighed as much as his 3-cylinder Tico SX, Pari drove us to a nearby pepper plantation.

What would the Khmer Empire have been without barbecue?

“Don’t cry,” he commanded through a half-cracked grin as he offered us green peppercorns that he just picked off a vine.  French chefs have been extolling the peppercorns, known as Kampot pepper, since the colonial period, when pepper production was much higher than today.

The oppressive Khmer Rouge regime, when not busy torturing and killing their fellow countrymen, uprooted the pepper vines in the 1970s to make way for rice. (That was part of their failed agrarian-state plan that ended up starving the country instead).

Since the Khmer Rouge’s ouster, several farmers from the area have begun re-planting the prized crop to take advantage of the seaside climate and mineral-rich soil that gives Kampot pepper its unique spicy sweetness.

Chewing up a peppercorn, Pari squinted and remarked, “They should be called ‘Kep peppers.’ I’m jealous!” He was referring to the fact that the neighboring province of Kampot ended up scoring the spice’s name, even though the pepper grows in both Kampot and Kep provinces. A little neighborhood rivalry is just what Cambodia needs to increase awareness of the crop’s revival. Visitors can support the farmers’ entrepreneurial spirit by buying bags of peppercorns straight from the plantations.
Experiencing Cambodia’s modern cuisine led me to reflect on where our food in America comes from, and how not to be wasteful. I was not about to start grazing a cow in New York’s Central Park. I would, however, be interested in the reactions of New Yorkers if I carried a cow on the subway. Better yet, I’d love to see the reaction of an archaeologist digging around in Cambodia, far in the future, and unearthing biker-monk-and-waffle carvings.

By Darrin DuFord (GoNomad)

Tags: angkor, Apsaras, Cambodia, cambodian food, cuisine, kampot

The sun hasn’t risen yet, but several teenagers have got up and left their beds, bound for nearby rice fields. It takes at about 15 minutes for them to walk the one kilometre down a narrow path to some holes they have dug near the edge of the paddy.

Photo by: ROTH MEAS

Meas Seiha crouches down next to a hole that attracts Snakeheads seeking warmth.

Carrying a plastic container, Meas Seiha, 17, a young boy with muddy trousers, takes the thatched cover off one of the holes at the corner of a rice field. Meas Seiha sticks his hand in recess hoping to find trei ros, or Snakehead fish, that might have crawled in during the night.

Snakeheads are a strange evolutionary phenomenon. They are one of the few species of fish that can breathe in and out of water. A small cavity allows for air intake, so they can survive for hours out of water, and can even move on land.

During the cooler months of October, November and December, the people of Kampong Preah commune, Sangke district, Battambang province, dig holes at the edges of their rice fields to catch these fish.

“The fish look for the holes because they don’t like the cold paddy water during the cool season,” Meas Seiha explained.

Seiha says that the fish crawl out of the cold water and seek the holes too keep warm.

“Last month, it was not too cool like this, but some fish were lying on the levees in the rice field. My father and I got up early and collected the fish.”

As soon as the sun sets, the temperature in Battambang province drops quickly, and the people, like the fish, try to keep warm. People wear jackets and sweaters to protect themselves from the cool air from Tibet.

“I cannot even put my leg in the water, and I sometimes don’t take a bath for the whole day,” commented Seiha.

To make a hole for the fish, Meas Seiha needs to dig about 30 to 40 cm into the ground to prevent the fish from swimming and squirming out again.

“By making a hole near water, the fish will look for it, jump into it and stay there for a whole night, so it doesn’t take much time for me to find them.”

The Snakeheads caught this year have been fewer and the fish have been smaller than previous seasons, which Meas Seiha blames on less rainfall.

On some days he says he can collect an entire kilogram of fish, but on others he cannot find even one fish because they are not cold enough to go in search of a cosy hole.

“Last year, villagers and I could get at least five kilogrammes per day,” Meas Seiha said.

To improve his catch, Meas Seiha plans to dig more holes in a variety of places in the hope of catching more fish before the end of the cool season.

Tags: Cambodia, Kampong Preah, Sangke

Every morning Long Lonh wakes in the predawn darkness, washes his face and loads his bicycle with plastic containers. With his trusty knife hanging from his belt, he pedals slowly along the paved road from his house to a rice field where thousands of palm trees grow.

A tapper uses a bamboo ladder to scale a palm tree near the village of Dorkrong in Kampong Chhang province.

Despite the early hour, Long Lonh isn’t alone in the field. Other men have arrived before him, some climbing to the tops of the swaying trees, others walking from one trunk to the next carrying containers of sap they have already collected from the palms’ highest reaches.

Long Lonh parks his bicycle near one of the trees. He ties a plastic container to his belt and starts climbing, using a bamboo ladder that he has permanently tied to the trunk.

Once at the top of the tree, he removes a plastic container filled with sap that has collected overnight, and replaces it with the empty container he has brought with him. Then he descends to the safety of the ground.

Long Lonh, who lives in Dorkrong village in Kampong Chhnang province, has worked as a palm tapper since 1979. Every day he climbs some 20 palm trees that average about 15 metres in height.

“Yes, it’s a dangerous job, but my father taught me to repeat the Balinese saying ‘ascend carefully or fall to my death’ every time I climb up,” he said.

The process of making palm sugar is not complicated but does require special knowledge, and different tappers are able to collect different quantities of palm sap, depending on their technique. Sap can be obtained from both male and female trees, but in either case only trees in bloom can be tapped because the liquid is normally collected from the flowers.

Tapper Uch Thanith, 31, poses outside Dorkrong with his bicycle and sap-filled containers .

Long Lonh usually collects sap from male trees. Using two flat pieces of wood, he squeezes the flower and then cuts the top. This process must be repeated for three consecutive days before sap starts to flow.

“After three days the flower begins to drop sap, and then we can use the plastic containers to catch it,” he said. “If there’s still no sap after three days, it sometimes means the flower is sick. But if we keep repeating the process of putting pressure and cutting the top, it will eventually drop sap.”

“The taller trees usually give more sap,” he added. “I guess they’re stronger than the short trees in producing sap.”

Long Lonh said it is possible to collect sap throughout the year as long as the flowers stay in blossom, but during rainy season he usually stops climbing the trees and turns his attention to his agricultural work.

Another tapper in Dorkrong, 31-year-old Uch Thanith, said he has been climbing trees since the age of 18.

Most tappers in Dorkrong learn their skills from their fathers, but as Thanith’s family were newcomers to the village, his father knew nothing about the trade. Thanith therefore had to learn for himself, a process that did always go smoothly.

“Once when I was near the top of a tree I accidentally broke the bamboo ladder. Fortunately I was able to grab hold of the trunk and save myself from falling,” he said.

Thanith said he was a bit scared to climb trees after his near-accident, but he took the incident as a warning to be more careful.

“I would rather be doing other work, but I don’t have any other options,” he said, adding that he also kept the “ascend carefully or fall to my death” mantra in mind while he was climbing.

The head of Dorkrong, Ros Chhong, said there are 86 families in the village. Most of the men are tappers, and the women make sugar from the sap they collect.

“The palm trees in our village are very useful because people can make money from them every day,” he said.

He added that despite the dangerous nature of collecting sap, no tappers have fallen from the trees in Dorkrong. However, he said that a few years ago one man in the neighbouring village of Andong Por fell to his death from a 30-metre tree.

Long Lonh said he has also had an experience similar to Thanith’s, once losing his balance when a step of his bamboo ladder broke beneath his feet. He was also able to hug the tree trunk before he fell to the ground.

Although he works slowly and carefully while climbing, once he has collected the sap from his 20 trees Long Lonh gets back on his bicycle and pedals home as quickly as he can.

Once there, Long Lonh’s wife, Phang Sim, pours the sap into a big pot and boils it for about two hours, until most of the liquid has evaporated, leaving a viscous and very sweet sugar. Some of the sap can also be used to make palm wine.

Long Lonh collects nearly 30 litres of sap every day, which yields 2 to 3 kilograms of sugar. The product sells at the market for about 1900 riels per kilogram.

“We can produce at least two tonnes of sugar a year,” said Phang Sim.

How to get there
Dorkrong village is located in Pong Ro commune, Rolea Paea district, Kampong Chhnang province. From Phnom Penh, drive on National Road 5 for about 100 kilometres. Just past the town of Kampong Chhnang, turn left on the concrete road that leads to the local airfield. Dorkrong is about 10 kilometres from National Road 5.

PPP

Tags: Dorkrong village, Kampong Chhnang province, Phnom Penh

Cambodia’s current travel tagline is “Cambodia: Kingdom of Wonder”, which is a perfect description for the country’s crown jewel and its biggest tourist attraction. Angkor Wat serenely sits only 15-minutes from Siem Reap and it is awesome.

Siem Reap is a small provincial capital in northern Cambodia that has again become one of the most popular destinations in SE Asia. Having received it’s name from the ancient wars with neighboring Thailand, Siem Reap was a massive tourist attraction in the early 1900′s, as the rich and famous came to witness the nearby temples of Angkor. That all changed in the early 70′s as the brutal Khmer Rouge came to power; however, since the late 90′s Cambodia has seen a resurgence in their tourism industry. People are again returning to Siem Reap to witness what should’ve been listed as one of the New Seven Wonders of the World.

Angkor Wat is to Cambodia what the Pyramids are to Egypt or Petra is to Jordan. It’s an awe-inspiring architectural feat with a mystic aura that is both overwhelming and elaborate, rivaling the antiquities uncovered in Greece and Rome. Originally created by the Khmer king Suryavarman II as a gift to his Hindu god Vishnu, Angkor Wat was carved out of transported sandstone in the early 12th century. Massive sandstone blocks were supposedly shipped 25 miles down the Siem Reap River to help create Suryavarman’s vision. The temple was both completed and subsequently damaged after the king’s death due to wars with neighboring countries. In the latter part of 13th century a new king, Srindravarman restored and converted the temple to a Theravada Buddhist use, which continues today.

The best times to view the temple are either first thing in the morning or late at the day. The sun rising or setting behind the temples adds to the sense of wonderment that visitors are left with. And the complex is so massive, it’s advised to take at least a full day (if not two) to wander around and see everything.

As previously mentioned, Siem Reap is becoming more and more a tourist town and is well supported by a variety of hotels, anywhere from 1 to 5 star options are available. The sleepy little town is full of markets and food stalls surrounded by an eclectic mix of classic French architecture and Khmer décor. Luckily, traveling to Siem Reap is easy via its International Airport. And for those looking for a cheaper trip can now travel easier from the border of Thailand (Poipet). Tourists can take buses (or taxis) from the border, which is only a quick 2 hours to Siem Reap. The road has been redone and is apparently quite smooth for the trip. Being able to witness a manmade achievement of such a grand scale is rare, and doing it on an amazing trip through SE Asia, it is ultimately and refreshingly affordable.

S: Activetravel

Tags: Angkor Wat, Cambodia, Khmer, Siem Reap, Wonders of the World