the son
Smile
travels north-west of SiemReap to trace a centuries-old story of loyalty,
intrigue and rebellion with a cast of thousands, the same story that could hold the
secret to Banteay Chhmar’s second act as an exciting, off-the-grid adventure spot
Presenting the past
I
’m a person, not a mountain goat,
I tell myself as I carefully position
my foot on an awkwardly angled
sandstone block and shift my
weight. My traveling companions
are coping with Banteay Chhmar’s
topsy-turvy walking paths better
than I am at the moment, leaving me
to bring up the rear. In my struggle, I
almost forget to look up. When I do,
it’s directly in front of me: the Bayon-
style “face tower” known as Tower 18,
its impassive visages held high, as if
human vices and the caprices of nature
had not laid its surroundings low.
Built on shakier ground than Angkor
Wat, the Cambodian temple of Banteay
Chhmar was doomed even before
the last stone block fell into place in
1216AD. Over the centuries, Banteay
Chhmar’s component parts steadily
succumbed to war, neglect and greed
until a host of international NGOs took
action in the 20th century to preserve
the remnants that survived.
What remains today displays a
heartbreaking beauty, precisely
because much of what has been “lost”
is still here, albeit scarred and battered
beyond recognition.
BY MICHAEL AQUINO
