Angkor Wat

We need a bit of an adventure today, so this morning we get up early, hire some bikes and set off to cycle all the way to the West Beray, which is a large lake where locals swim and relax in hammocks, on the enormous temple complex.

It's a long ride but I think we both rather relish the physical challenge today so we throw ourselves into it, and it doesn't seem long before we arrive.

The only snag is the rather short sighted lack of food. We had intended to buy breakfast in a bakery and take it with us, but managed to wander a bit distractedly past the bakery on the way to pick up the bikes, and there's nothing else on the way. At West Baray there is some food but it's mostly barbecued meat or fish. Sometimes, it's really annoying to be a vegetarian. Perhaps we should adopt some monk style philosophy in which we convince ourselves that if the meat is barbecued as opposed to roasted, the animal died of natural causes. Or is actually a vegetable. 

Or maybe not. N tried to explain the apparent contradiction of the Buddhist diet over dinner last night. Apparently one very high monk tried to find a shorter route to Nirvana by eating nothing. He died of starvation. Another ate only rice and sesame. He also died of malnutrition. Therefore it is necessary for monks to eat meat, so as not to die of malnutrition. 

Seriously. You should have seen M's face.

Having said that, sweating busily away on my bike it seems quite likely that we are close to malnutrition's door and that if we don't eat something soon we may starve. Luckily we are saved by some mango, eaten with blow your head off chilli salt and some more sticky rice in bamboo shoots. There is no bread, so Dirk would not be happy, but I think we will survive.

We install ourselves in hammocks facing out over the water. The lake is enormous and the wind has blown it so that it seems to have waves. It looks quite inviting, if also a little menacing. With the sun on it, it is beautiful, and there is a cool breeze. A cool breeze, here, especially if you are me and definitely sweat rather than glow, is unheard of and beautiful. It would be so nice, I think, as I sway happily in my hammock, to feel, even only a little bit, cold.

As the morning draws towards noon the hammocks surrounding us begin to be filled with noisily and happily picnicking families. Children don one of a supply of life jackets and play in the lake. The market stalls heat up a little, though remaining meat based, and a child angrily shouts at a cat which has leapt up and deftly removed a fish from the grill. Sellers begin to walk around between hammocks, offering various delicacies carried on their heads, including fried crickets and sauteed silk worm. We decline. I eat a cracker.

When we have sated our appetite for lying indolently about in hammocks, and M has proved his masculinity by carrying two ridiculously large and heavy coconuts down the slope to us, we mount our trusty bikes again - and cycle round, finally, to see Angkor Wat itself. 

The ride is interesting. We take the small lakeside road which some tourists, presumably on mountain bikes and full body armour had apparently described as 'bumpy'. The track is a mixture of deep sand and razor sharp stones, pitted here and there with  holes sloping down to the lake,  where erosion has had it's way with the landscape. I circumnavigate these holes grimly. Part of me is scared of falling down one and into the lake. The other part (the bit that is trying to pedal an ancient road bike through sand in 40 degree heat) thinks that a little dip on the lake would be a blessed relief - however unexpected. I become quite grumpy. Even M, cycling ahead with the same periodic speedy hop off the bike and some sweaty Wheeling through sand dunes, us uncharacteristically grim, though he seems less susceptible than me to becoming unreasonably angry with...well - the road. For being 'bumpy'.

Eventually we emerge with relief onto what passes for normal in the way of road surfacing here. 

We carry on cycling and find ourselves skirting around the airport (field with planes in). One takes off over our heads. Well it doesn't quite. But we really really want it to. Actually it takes off in the opposite direction. But its still pretty amazing. We are right next to it on pushbikes!

The rest of the journey cannot quite match up to this excitement - until our first sight of Angkor Wat rising above the trees at the end of the dust path.

The temples, having originally failed to generate a suitably emotional reaction, have now become my favourite things and Angkor Wat is one of the biggest. Though not as intriguingly overgrown as some of the others, Angkor Wat awes in a different way. 

Incredibly well preserved, the huge relief carvings are still very sharp and clear, and our visit to the Siem Reap museum on Sunday, has allowed us the ability to look into them and see the stories. Garuda, the man-bird, spreads his wings, transformed by Vishnu in order to eat the children of his mother's rival.

Naga, the many headed snake who opened her hood to shelter the Buddha as he meditated, presides over gateways, bridges - and the Buddha himself.

A fierce battle rages between monkeys and demons as Rama  fights to free Sita from the evil clutches of Ravana.

The Asparas, those beautiful maidens who appeared from the sea of milk when it was churned by Gods and demons together to produce the elixir of immortality strike their seductive poses and tickle our appetites for the traditional dance we hope to see later in our visit, which was inspired by these figures.

Even churning with tourists (though unlikely to produce any heavenly  nectar and with only a few quite sweaty maidens), Angkor Wat still has atmosphere.

We repair home. Our thighs ache and my bottom has take on a new 'saddle inspired' shape. But we have had our adventure. We heal ourselves with beer and the exquisitely easy company of friends. 

We have a virtual beer with our favourite drinking partners. Life here is an adventure. Checking in with those we left back home becomes an adventure too.