A Passage to Angkor: From Present to Past and Back.

Monks walking around the Angkor Wat temple.

It has been some time since my second visit to Cambodia, but I still have vivid memories of my walks in the sun among the ruins of the temples, or of their silhouettes as they slowly took shape at dawn, half hidden by a sky veiled by thin clouds.

To visit the famous Angkor Wat temple complex, Siem Reap is the starting point. It’s a town that still maintains the legacy of French colonial and Chinese-style architecture around the Old Market. I remember Siem Reap as constantly swarming with tourists, bars, night markets, restaurants offering all kinds of cuisine, as well as tasty Khmer food, even excellent pizza cooked in a wood-fired oven.

The Meriden Hotel in Siem Reap was built on the site of an old cemetery.

"No one here is afraid of ghosts. Not anymore," says our tour guide, John (not his real name), as we pass the hotel on our way to the temples. It is not difficult to understand why, when you think of Cambodia's tragic history.

And yet, admiring the breath-taking beauty of the temples, one realises that there was a period of splendour, when one million inhabitants lived in Angkor alone (during the Khmer Rouge regime, from 1975 to 1979, the entire population of Cambodia was reduced to six million people), and a widespread system of irrigation canals ensured abundant harvests of rice throughout the year. The beauty of the elaborate temple structures built by the various kings, who succeeded one another in Angkor from the 9th century onwards, transforming them into a tribute to the Buddhist or Hindu religion respectively – are a testament to the magnificence of the Khmer empire (also known as Kambuja). In its heyday, this empire also spread to parts of Thailand, Myanmar, Malaysia, Vietnam and Laos. The decline began in the 14th century, when the Thais of the Kingdom of Ayutthaya invaded Cambodia, drove out the Khmer people and founded a new capital, Longveck.

"Samudra Manthan", "The Churning of the Ocean of Milk". — "**Samudra Manthan**", "*The Churning of the Ocean of Milk*".

This glorious past, the transition from ruler to ruler, from one religion to another, and the subsequent periods of colonization of the country, define the resilience of the Cambodian people. It is therefore almost impossible not to be attracted by the artistic expression of this long and endless struggle between good and evil – ever present in the history of this country. The dichotomy of life, the possibility of redemption and balance, appear in one of the most impressive bas-reliefs of the Angkor Wat temple, the largest structure of all Angkor temples and once the largest religious complex in the world. This bas-relief occupies the wall of the eastern gallery and symbolises a well-known episode of Hindu mythology: "Samudra Manthan", "The Churning of the Ocean of Milk". Here, the gods Shiva, Vishnu and Brahma are represented respectively on the left, centre and right of a long five-headed snake, the naga, the king of snakes. When the world was created, gods and demons were engaged in a battle to secure the amrita, an elixir that would make them immortal and incorruptible. Vishnu ordered them to work together by mixing the Ocean of Milk, using Mount Mandara as a pivot and the snake as a rope. When the mountain, once placed in the ocean, began to sink, Vishnu incarnated himself in one of his avatars, the turtle Kurma, and supported the mountain on his back. But the rotation of Mount Mandara created a vortex so violent that all the creatures around it were torn to pieces. The Ocean of Milk was churned for another thousand years before producing the much-desired elixir, and during this process, it also released some treasures, including the goddess Lakshmi (Vishnu's bride), a wishing tree, and the apsaras, ethereal creatures that appeared in flight.

It’s the apsaras, who capture my attention as I listen to John talking about the episodes of Hindu philosophy, and I start to move from one temple to another trying to find them among the bas-reliefs.

The apsaras are celestial creatures, divine nymphs, and the greatest balancing force in the struggle between good and evil. They assume various poses, smiling gently (there is one called "Mona Lisa of Angkor", and another showing her teeth), standing, or floating, flying, moving. The apsara were once the temple dancers, and probably also the king's concubines, although we cannot say with certainty whether their exquisite carved faces belonged to women who really existed. The virginal innocence of these spiritual figures is in stark contrast with their almost naked bodies.

In the temples of Angkor, feminine beauty not only represents fertility, but is a manifestation of the universal rhythm. Thus, in the external structure of the temples, apsaras appear as the dominant feminine force, while in the centre of the temple we often find a 'lingam', the phallic symbol of Shiva. This is how the place of worship represents the balance between male and female, between opposing forces. The apsaras had not only a decorative role: their dances were offered to ancestral spirits, able to influence cosmic interaction. The apsara dance is still the most traditional form of dance in Cambodia today, dating back to the Angkorean era and re-established after the tragic interlude of the Khmer Rouge regime.

The Angkor Wat complex takes its name from the Angkor Wat temple, partly built by King Suryavarman II, designed by 5,000 architects and astronomers and erected by 50,000 workers. It is certainly the apotheosis of Khmer art. But there are many other structures worth a visit, each with its own characteristics.

The Bayon, in the ancient city of Angkor Thom, was designed by what our tour guide called "J7" (King Jayavarman VII). It contrasts with Angkor Wat as it is a Buddhist temple, and is distinguished by its 54 towers representing various faces (each tower is enriched with four or eight faces), images probably not of the Buddha, but of the king himself.

Banteay Srei is a unique temple because it was built in pink sandstone and has intricate carvings. Beng Mealea, located 40 km from Angkor, has never been restored and its structure has been completely submerged by the jungle. Only some foliage has been cut.

Here, surrounded by majestic trees, I climb one of the many stone blocks scattered around the area, abandoned like the remains of an earthquake, and try to imagine what the temples of Angkor looked like before – at the end of the 19th century – French archaeologists set to work to restore the dilapidated buildings. I close my eyes inhaling the smell of this ancient land, before being catapulted back into modern-day Cambodia.

John is quite critical of the way Cambodia is run today. He talks about deforestation, the mines along the border between Thailand and Cambodia (which also threaten the survival of Cambodian tigers, he says), the emigration of Cambodians in search of better opportunities in Thailand or elsewhere, the rice harvest that could be obtained all year round if only there were better irrigation systems. John would also like to see improved infrastructures and more cautious investments, coming from the temple entrance fee, to be used in temple-restoration work (Chinese, Japanese, American, European teams, just to name a few – even an Italian team has constantly supported restoration work in several temples).

Before becoming an expert tour guide, John was a teacher. “I study at night and attend part-time courses at the university to get my degree in English,” he tells me. Despite his anger at the recent painful past and disillusionment with the current political system, he still manages to smile and think positive.

Like many in his country, John firmly believes in the ultimate harmony of the universe, brought about by the beautiful apsara, which gently sway around the ancient temple halls, now deserted.

Link to the article in Italian, published in ‘Ciao Magazine’ here