This week, I’m taking you to Siem Reap, Cambodia. To a place where serenity and grandeur collide at the magnificent Bayon Temple, famous for its array of towers with smiling faces and “baroque” architecture in a Khmer context. While Angkor Wat is impressive and rightfully holds its place, Bayon remains a personal favourite for its unique charm.
The temple’s defining feature? Two hundred sixteen (216) colossal, enigmatic faces carved onto 54 sandstone towers.These serene smiles seem to gaze eternally at the horizon, each tower boasting four expressions facing different directions. It’s hard to imagine the dedication and skill required to create such a wonder, especially with the available tools they had in those times.
These smiling faces follow you around the temple.
Conservationists say there are only about 173 intact carved images left.
On my last visit, I saw a tourist mirroring the contemplative mood. He was resting against the temple wall, just beneath a tower face. On one hand, he held an unlit cigar – a nod to the intrepid explorers of old who first marveled at these ruins. With the other, he fanned himself vigorously using his Indiana Jones hat against the relentless heat. Perhaps he, like me, was simply enjoying the structures, or pondering the mysteries of Bayon. Who were these enigmatic figures? What message did the ancient builders intend? These very questions add to the temples enduring allure.
This postcard is an old one in my album and it shows Preah Khan Temple (the back side), one of the captivating temples nestled within the sprawling Angkor Wat complex in Siem Reap, Cambodia. Unlike past hot summer visits, my Siem Reap adventure in July last year was in the middle of the monsoon’s refreshing embrace. My friends, seasoned Angkor explorers, swore by the rainy season’s magic, promised a magical transformation, and I was eager to see it for myself.
A a massive stump is what’s left of a huge silk-cotton tree with overgrown roots that used to stand there (see postcard for reference). The roots look like it’s strangling a part of the gopura wall. Some say they are actually supporting the structure. What do you think?
This is the West Gopura entrance. If you look closer, you will see two headless devarapalas guarding the entrance. For comparison, here is a photo of the devarapalas taken in 1942.
Preah Khan, translating to “sacred sword,” holds a unique charm despite its lesser fame compared to Angkor Wat or Bayon Temple. Built by King Jayavarman VII in the 12th century, it served a dual purpose: a temple city and a tribute to his father following a hard-fought victory. Here’s a walk through of the Preah Khan Temple, for those interested.
Leaving the hotel under clear skies, we breezed through the Angkor Archaeological Park checkpoints, armed with our resident (free) passes. Yet, as we neared Preah Khan’s eastern entrance, a downpour caught us by surprise. Undeterred, we hopped off the tuk-tuk and laughed at the absurdity of it all. We joined a mix of curious, umbrella-toting foreign and local visitors, to look at the intricate carvings adorning the causeway’s balustrades.
Crafted from ancient sandstone, these panels depict a timeless battle between good and evil – the seven-headed naga (serpent) carried by divine devas on one side, and the opposing asuras (demons) on the other. Sadly, weathering and looting have taken a toll, scattering fragments of these magnificent sculptures (heads, mostly) across museums worldwide.
Venturing into the rain-soaked forest, a sense of adventure surged through me. Imagine Lara Croft, but rain-soaked and determined – that was me, Zarah Croft, navigating a maze of ancient ruins. Our mission within Preah Khan’s main temple this time? To find a hidden altar, rumoured to hold a wish-granting image revered by many Thais, but unknown to most visitors, including ourselves until our Thai and Khmer friends told us about it.
Under the relentless rain, with only the temple’s partial shelter, we navigated corridors adorned with weathered stone carvings of mythical beings. Each sculpture, some vibrant with rain-washed hues, others cloaked in moss or lichens, bore the tales of the past. Each corner revealed mythical and spiritual beings, their details begging for examination.
Rainwater pooled on the floor, splashing with every step we took. It was like stepping back in time, a real-life adventure. Finally, after diligent exploration, and soaking wet, we stumbled upon the inconspicuous altar and its sacred image. Lighting candles and incense, we offered a silent prayer. My feet, submerged in the cool water, felt strangely connected to the past. In that moment, I could almost picture the kings and queens who once walked these very halls, their hopes and dreams carried on the wind. I could almost hear the whispers of ancient prayers echoing through the halls. My imagination soared as we continued to explore the other chambers in the temple – what if a devata, a heavenly being, or an apsara, a celestial dancer, materialized from the shadows? I’m fine with either, as long as it’s not an asura blocking my way! Lol.
Soaking it all in (literally and figuratively!) at the awe-inspiring Preah Khan Western Gopura. The rain couldn’t dampen this explorer’s spirit!
The persistent rain, far from dampening our spirits, added a layer of unexpected wonder. It evoked a childhood nostalgia for the Philippine monsoon season. Memories of playful splashes in puddles with classmates and cousins, a carefree spirit untamed by the thought of scoldings from our mothers and elders. A time of pure, uninhibited joy.
Preah Khan’s magnificence speaks for itself, but under the cloak of rain, it revealed a whole new layer of magic I have not seen and experienced before.
