Angkor Thom
It’s fitting that the last day of our trip started with a visit to the Bayon Temple. Many of us opted for the 6a.m. tuk-tuk ride to the site—a part of the Angkor complex where tower after tower of dark stone rise up into the sky, adorned with the massive faces of smiling Buddhas, facing in all directions.
Like all the visitors here, we have come from many directions, leaving our homes in various parts of the world, to come and be awed and enchanted by the overwhelming temples. But here at the Bayon temple, despite the hundreds of tourists busy climbing up and down the complex sets of stone steps, we are afforded a few moments of reflection.
At dinner on the previous nights, many of us were talking of the extreme aspects of Cambodian history, which we had learned from our tours, excursions, meetings with local people, and the lectures. One the one hand, there’s the unimaginable grandeur of the Angkor temples, the vision and devotion to Hindu and Buddhist gods, and the magnificence of immense stone structures and intricate carvings that have lasted for a millennium. On the other extreme is the gruesome, inhumane, and incomprehensible behavior of the Khmer Rouge in the second half of the 20th century. We’ve all been aware of the nearly 2 million dead under this regime’s rule, but to come face to face with true stories, with survivors, and with the environment in which these people were tortured and killed—is simply heartbreaking.
In between the extremes, we’ve met many Cambodians who have overwhelmed us with their bowing gestures, their relentless smiles, and their polite words of thanks when it is we who need to thank them. There is no simple way of understanding how they can maintain such kindness and gentle manners always, while bearing the weight of the extremes they’ve survived.
At the Bayon temple, we were given a chance to understand some of it: to see the Cambodian’s thousand-year-old loyalty to the gods, their spiritual outlook, and their successful aim toward kindheartedness. They seem to have a profound sense of self that allows for inner peace and acceptance of the worst circumstances.
Built by a king who had built many other temples for his parents and influential relatives, this particular temple shows devotion to the teachings and worshipping of the Buddha. While the temple is not as well-preserved as others in the complex, owing to the rushed speed of construction and the inferior quality of the sandstone, it is nonetheless a huge testament to the Cambodian benevolent temperament. The carvings on the walls, columns, and doorways at Bayon perhaps lack the intricacy and meticulous details of other temples, but as a whole the grandeur here isn’t simply about a structure that’s imposing simply because of its size, height, or architectural quality.
To end our journey to Cambodia here is to find a spirit of tolerance and commitment toward spiritual integrity—to not only accept impossible circumstances but to rise above it all.
A poetic expression by the poet Huu Thinh from Hanoi may be a way to feel the exquisite spiritual splendor of Bayon Temple:
Facing the Sculptures at Bayon Temple, Angkor
Heaven is forgotten here.
Flowers too lazy to bloom, stones upon stones crowding out humans.
Overwhelming stones before me,
Carved arms still drunk after all these generations—
Soldiers, elephants, hammocks,
Carved faces with ancient bitter tears
Cleverly stacked into a high mountain.
But cleverness can't mask the suffering of each incarnation.
One face of Bayon turns towards me,
The other three turn toward others elsewhere.
Wind blows in the upper reaches,
A smile hiding in the midst of war, saying what?
High up there, a fort.
What door? Who opened it? Wavering steps.
A mountain itself,
It still can’t escape this loneliness under the sky.
Four directions, four smiling faces
Near and far, muddy or clear, the living story of Bayon.
(translated from the Vietnamese by George Evans and Nguyen Qui Duc)
