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Journey to Siem Reap
There is something about traveling between cities, by bus or train, that puts me in a state of quiet thoughtfulness. It's always tinged with a trace of sadness, but a happy kind of sadness, the tender kind of sadness that comes with memories that play in your mind like a movie reel.
On the bus to Siem Reap, I was struck by this sensation as I gazed out the window, watching the countryside pass by. Off in the distance, things appeared to pass by slowly: the far-off fringe of sugar palm trees, the rounded shape of a hill, the bright green rice paddies. But looking closer to the side of the road, things came into view and vanished much more quickly: grass, gravel, sign posts. It's not unlike the mind, playing through the memory reel. Some things are always there on the periphery and some things come and go before you can even register their existence. Memories, ideas, emotions... they all play together at different speeds, but at the same time. Just like the passing countryside.
So, when we arrived in Siem Reap, I was in a contemplative mood. Having been hypnotized by the blurry scenes from the window of the bus, and lost to the world of my own past, I felt as if I was moving through a dream instead of dusty city streets in a tuk tuk.
I almost couldn't recognize Siem Reap, and I did not recognize the street where the tuk tuk driver dropped us off, even though it's the same street we called 'home' the last time we visited this city, 3-1/2 years ago. Benjamin and I had been looking forward to our return to Siem Reap ever since we left it. We made a few friends among the staff of the places we frequented... we spent many hours hanging out and teaching them English. We sent photos and dictionaries to them from San Francisco. We were eager to find these boys again and to find out what has become of them. And now we were here.
Perhaps this all added to my ruminant mood -- this, and the experience we'd just had in Phnom Penh, teaching computer graphics to the orphans and disadvantaged children at the Center for Children to Happiness. Emotions were running high, and the excitement of returning to Siem Reap mixed in with that was like a sweet and salty candy: one flavor battling the other, both of them working together.
It was strange to find Siem Reap so different, but it was not a surprise. The Angkor temples bring more and more tourists here each year and the town has changed to accommodate the boom. Seeing the changes, though, was still a shock... like visiting my childhood home, which was once bounded by empty fields but is now buried within masses of strip malls. Not only is it hard to recognize the place, but it is hard to come to terms with the fact that the place is no longer the one you remember. This is the domain of that happy kind of sadness. But, things change. It got me to thinking about the changes with my own self, how different a person I am today than I was then. I thought about the silly stories I used to write and the better ones I write today (Siem Reap, in fact, inspired my first foray into the writing world). I thought about the naive traveler I was back then and the more wizened traveler I am today. I thought about how, in the 3+ years that have passed since I'd been to Siem Reap, I have matured, aged, and come to know myself better.
Arriving in Siem Reap was also 'heady', perhaps, because of the journey it took to come back. It was also during our first trip here that Benjamin and I began to dream of the trip we are on now. So in a way, it wasn't merely a bus ride that brought us to Siem Reap, but several years of planning and saving and gathering the courage to leap into the unknown for a year-long journey through Asia.
Benjamin and I toasted each other with a beer and then set off to look for our friends. We found only one of the three we were looking for. In the time since we've been gone, he's gotten married, now has a daughter, and has been promoted to the position of head chef at the restaurant where he works. Sopheak has changed a lot, too. No longer in need of English tutoring, he taught us Khmer words.
Of course, we also returned to the Angkor temples and found more changes: less beggars, less children hawking souvenirs within the temple walls, less hassle. But the temples remain the same, as they have for centuries: everything happening at different speeds, but at the same time.
On the bus to Siem Reap, I was struck by this sensation as I gazed out the window, watching the countryside pass by. Off in the distance, things appeared to pass by slowly: the far-off fringe of sugar palm trees, the rounded shape of a hill, the bright green rice paddies. But looking closer to the side of the road, things came into view and vanished much more quickly: grass, gravel, sign posts. It's not unlike the mind, playing through the memory reel. Some things are always there on the periphery and some things come and go before you can even register their existence. Memories, ideas, emotions... they all play together at different speeds, but at the same time. Just like the passing countryside.
So, when we arrived in Siem Reap, I was in a contemplative mood. Having been hypnotized by the blurry scenes from the window of the bus, and lost to the world of my own past, I felt as if I was moving through a dream instead of dusty city streets in a tuk tuk.
I almost couldn't recognize Siem Reap, and I did not recognize the street where the tuk tuk driver dropped us off, even though it's the same street we called 'home' the last time we visited this city, 3-1/2 years ago. Benjamin and I had been looking forward to our return to Siem Reap ever since we left it. We made a few friends among the staff of the places we frequented... we spent many hours hanging out and teaching them English. We sent photos and dictionaries to them from San Francisco. We were eager to find these boys again and to find out what has become of them. And now we were here.
Perhaps this all added to my ruminant mood -- this, and the experience we'd just had in Phnom Penh, teaching computer graphics to the orphans and disadvantaged children at the Center for Children to Happiness. Emotions were running high, and the excitement of returning to Siem Reap mixed in with that was like a sweet and salty candy: one flavor battling the other, both of them working together.
It was strange to find Siem Reap so different, but it was not a surprise. The Angkor temples bring more and more tourists here each year and the town has changed to accommodate the boom. Seeing the changes, though, was still a shock... like visiting my childhood home, which was once bounded by empty fields but is now buried within masses of strip malls. Not only is it hard to recognize the place, but it is hard to come to terms with the fact that the place is no longer the one you remember. This is the domain of that happy kind of sadness. But, things change. It got me to thinking about the changes with my own self, how different a person I am today than I was then. I thought about the silly stories I used to write and the better ones I write today (Siem Reap, in fact, inspired my first foray into the writing world). I thought about the naive traveler I was back then and the more wizened traveler I am today. I thought about how, in the 3+ years that have passed since I'd been to Siem Reap, I have matured, aged, and come to know myself better.
Arriving in Siem Reap was also 'heady', perhaps, because of the journey it took to come back. It was also during our first trip here that Benjamin and I began to dream of the trip we are on now. So in a way, it wasn't merely a bus ride that brought us to Siem Reap, but several years of planning and saving and gathering the courage to leap into the unknown for a year-long journey through Asia.
Benjamin and I toasted each other with a beer and then set off to look for our friends. We found only one of the three we were looking for. In the time since we've been gone, he's gotten married, now has a daughter, and has been promoted to the position of head chef at the restaurant where he works. Sopheak has changed a lot, too. No longer in need of English tutoring, he taught us Khmer words.
Of course, we also returned to the Angkor temples and found more changes: less beggars, less children hawking souvenirs within the temple walls, less hassle. But the temples remain the same, as they have for centuries: everything happening at different speeds, but at the same time.
posted by Cheryn at 4:07 PM
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