I snuck into Angkor Wat…
Would you believe I didn’t recognize a back entrance to the site?
I unintentionally snuck into Angkor Wat. A doable task with a Phnom Penh licensed motorbike and a face that looks Cambodian.
We didn’t stop at temples but drove through from one exit to the next. I honestly didn’t see or hear the checkpoint guards yelling at us to backtrack. I wore a full-face helmet, the wind was loud, and my focus was directed toward not falling off the bike. My ex decided not to point them out because of the high chance I would panic. It was a disgusting act that I still hold against him. I’m a stickler for most policies and a fan of not paying trespassing fines.
I can only write this as another tally mark for unknowingly tagging along on an act of transgression.
The next day, we were good patrons and paid the $20 entrance fee.
Left a little donation in respects to Buddha. If I didn’t need to eat, I would have given double. Surely I’ll be punished for it in my next life.
Eight hundred years of foot traffic is challenging to maintain at a place deemed the largest religious monument in the world.
Blue skies above 12th Century architecture bring in tourists trying to capture their postcard shots. Even if it includes reconstruction and ongoing archeological projects because that’s to be expected. The actual eyesores are the multi-lingual graffiti carved into the stones with what I imagine translates to “so-and-so was here.” Thankfully these tiny scratches of vandalism are hardly noticeable in the grand scheme of things.
A tremendous amount of preservation goes into maintaining Angkor Wat and all the other temples. There are towers and galleries, chambers and courtyards, all covered in elaborate sculptures depicting gods, demons, and men. It’s a treasure trove of religious history passed down through generations.
There’s even speculation that it’s an “earthy model of the cosmic world.” Which sounds poetic but also a stretch.
The evidence of crowds may have cheapened the visit for some, but not for me. — I got lucky.
Typical Cambodian weather means sporadic rainstorms after scorching heat waves; it down poured on us.
Before entering Ta Prohm, we decided to buy new clothes to get out of our soaked ones. Which is how I found myself standing half-naked outside, surrounded by a fully clothed audience. Four local girls circled around me to hold up a slightly transparent curtain for my privacy. Sometimes they would peek over the make-shift fitting room while I was undressing. I’d flush and look away, only to make accidental eye contact with the next girl.
It furthered my embarrassment a hundred times, and I coped with a sling of curses. “GAH, FUCK! DAMN IT! This shirt… won’t come…OFF!” Thank universal timing that social media wasn’t a popular trend back then. I would have hated to end up on a tik tok. My slew of colorful words alone attracted men who tried to stand a little closer. I wasn’t doing myself any favors by making a spectacle of me changing.
Eventually, I put on the dress, paid my dues, and said goodbye.
We had Ta Prohm all to ourselves. The weather probably deterred other tourists. The only extra company was coming from the sound of birds overhead. I got to jump mini moats and dodge leaking ceilings. Explored dark corridors and slipped behind columns of Hindu and Buddhist engravings. Almost every temple hallway had a cave-in, and the moss grew in just the right places. I can’t remember the last time I saw a better rainy sight. I will never forget it.
It set the tone for eating dumplings under a tent to motorbiking across dirt roads with Preah Khan in the distance.
I was immersed in an environment from a different time, and damn, was it beautiful.
