By far the highlight of today is the performance by the Phare Cambodian circus which we go to see in the evening.
The Phare circus trains young people who might otherwise not have much in the way of opportunities for their future from a young age. It provides them with a way to be independent, supporting themselves and their families. The training covers more than simply the most obvious circus arts, such as contortion, acrobatics, balancing and juggling but also music, script writing or directing and painting. Money raised by it goes towards the salaries of the performers and technical support and what is left over is re-invested into new projects. It performs seven nights a week and the performance, which involves only humans, for those of you imagining balancing elephants, is based around a story. There are three or four different stories which rotate regularly, so locals and longer term tourists could go several times to see a different show.
In fact, as an aside, I have gradually, as I get to know Cambodia, and Siem Reap in particular, and can sift through the less authentic outfits and identify the better ones - been discovering just how much hope and positive energy there is here. Organisations like Phare Circus abound (though it us unique in its nature). It is possible to go out most nights to see or do something which is set up in aid of a 'good cause'. There are countless charities. If the poverty in which some people are living hits you hard, you don't have to keep looking for long to find a myriad of rising hopes, pulling everything, gradually up. Cambodians, I read somewhere, are a proud and determined people with an indomitable spirit - and they never give up. I have to say, I'm really seeing this. I realise that over the time I have been here, what began as compassion - even pity, has developed into a deep respect.
That respect is never so much deserved as in the case of the performers in the Phare circus. I remember, not so long ago, that a 'shocking' documentary on the gymnastics training schools for very young children in China was released and did the rounds on YouTube, where I encountered it. In general, the reason it was shocking was because of the very hard, painful training being endured by such young children. There were other issues - but I was struck by several comments by viewers who had some experience of gymnastic training themselves.
"Stop labelling China as cruel," they said, "gymnastics training has to be hard and has to start early. It's the same anywhere."
In fact we were talking to A only recently, who did dance training in Switzerland.
"You stood against the wall in the splits position" she said, "and they would push you from behind to make you stretch further. It was so painful."
Circus performance of this kind, which depends largely on physical activity, requires intense physical training for years. On average, a Phare performer will have trained for eight to ten years before they are ready to perform. They are not just lucky kids, taken out of hardship to a glamorous job full of accolades and advantages. It's tough, sweaty, agonising work. It's a charitable organisation, but make no mistake, the Phare performers earn their living.
That's the serious bit over. Now what I'd like to try to do is relay for you the sheer exuberance and joy of the performance - and the fact that these clowns are actually funny.
The story for tonight involves a group of school kids who encounter two ghosts and work together to conquer their fears. Cue an enormous amount of running about, shouting and arguing together - all done with such energy and such attention to little details, that it could be possible to watch an entire show of just this. The ghosts dance on ribbons, contort their bodies into strange and beautiful shapes, and balance together with impossibly little heed to the laws of gravity which govern everyone else. They are breaths of grace amid an energetic cacophony and the carefully arranged chaos of the group of school children.
When the ghosts exit, the chaos grows in abundance, with much nail biting and rushing around, falling over each other, piling onto a bike, excitable retrieval of the school chairs which are, of course, suspended on the roof, and a long and hilarious interval in which all the boys take turns trying to impress one of the female musicians. This involves much performing of circus feats, interspersed with proud grinning, winking and what I can only describe as 'twerking'. It's genuinely funny, helped by the fact that the performers are close to the age of the characters they portray and seem to always be having enormous fun. As for the circus feats, we're not talking a bit of casual break dancing. The boys leap high into the air, turn somersaults and land in their co performer's arms, juggle, contort, and build human pyramids. Oddly, the girl remains largely unimpressed, while the audience are screaming and cheering. She must be very high maintenance. That's all I can say.
The energy levels and humour don't relax once during the hour long performance. But what really blows me away is that the circus stunts are truly beautiful, daring and at times, literally unbelievable. A boy balances on his hands in an upside side splits position atop a pile of eight or nine chairs balanced so precariously I actually hold my breath and wonder what will happen if he falls. Later in the show, a similar balancing position will be maintained for an impossible length of time atop five or six toilet roll shaped cylinders. All of which are rolling slightly so that he has to keep adjusting his balance constantly to maintain the position.
The circus feats are dangerous and taxing. By the end of the show each performer, despite showing no signs of flagging, is drenched with sweat. The only indication of the effort involved in each stunt is a split second just before it happens, when the concentration on their face becomes evident, or a period in which the clownery is stepped up a notch by the other performers to enable, for example, the careful balancing of chairs for the next stunt. If you watch their faces closely, there is always an intense and deadly serious connection between partnering performers before a throw, balance or stunt. For me, it is this which really crowns it. I am laughing delightedly and squealing in awe, but I am never on any doubt as to the skill and significance of each trick - and as to what is at stake. It enhances the state of euphoria induced by the performer's energy and natural comedy, because I get a rush of adrenaline simply watching.
Afterwards the performers return to the stage and tell us a little about the organisation and what it stands for. As they do so they stretch. Even their stretches look like yoga moves worthy of Sivananda himself. They remain on stage afterwards and invite donations, pose for photos and are available to chat.
I feel completely psychophantic and am too tongue tied in front of these half my age performers who don't seen to be constrained by the usual laws of physics, to say anything. I donate.
And I secretly watch the Phare circus website to see if the story changes while we are still in Cambodia. If it does, I'll persuade M to go again.
Which shouldn't be difficult.
Like me, he was grinning maniacally the whole way through.
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