Noud te Riele
My husband Alex and I were in Siem Reap, Cambodia, and among the many interesting places we wanted to see was the famous “River of the Thousand Lingas,” in Kbal Spean. The river started from the Kulein Mountains in the north, and was a tributary of the Siem Reap River that flowed down, reaching the temples in the plains and its surrounding fields. Kbal Spean was about 50 kilometers from the center of town, and upon advice of friends we hired a motorcycle-driven four-wheeled carriage called a tuktuk, driven by a kind and gentle Cambodian named Po Lit, who also became our local guide. We motored through sun-drenched, green countryside, the air fresh and invigorating, smelling of tree resins and freshly-dug earth.
We first went to get a three-day pass at the entrance of the Angkor Archeological Park, operated by the Apsara Authority, where a building under tall trees had rows of ticket booths. This ticket would allow us unlimited access to all the Siem Riep temples for three days. Many visitors were already at the entrance, but because there was a good system, the queue was not that long. A cheerful young lady was there to assist us, telling us to smile for the camera. To our surprise, our temple passes even had our photos in them! For the next three days we happily showed these at the entrances of all the temples that we wanted to see.
Along the way we stopped at a roadside “gas station,” where doe-eyed children sold one-liter plastic bottles of gasoline to passers-by. They cost about $1.20 each, Po Lit said, and two bottles were enough for our whole day trip. It was about an hour more of bucolic scenery including our first sightings of the wide Siem Reap River.
Rock and tree formations along the way
We finally reached Kbal Spean, and our passes were checked and punched for the first time. The guidebooks said it would be an “easy, uphill climb for about 45 minutes through a forest.” The first 200 meters was easy enough, but as we went on, the trees became taller, the canopy above us denser, and the ground, steeper. It was cooler, too, although the sun could still be limned through the high branches. Suddenly I noted thick roots running hither and yon on the ground, some of them as thick as my upper arm. Twisted and gnarled, these were perfect foot trippers, if one were not careful. Some of the trees’ branches engulfed other trees, crossed over the other side of the path, and calling it a forest was certainly an understatement. It was a veritable jungle, complete with lianas and strange-looking plants. It was even said that the Khmer Rouge soldiers found this jungle a perfect place to hide in, during the war. The silence was astounding, too, as we could only hear distant birds and soft chirping and nothing else. I was surprised to even hear a dry crackle as a small branch broke off, and the gentle thud it made as it reached the ground. We seemingly had the jungle to ourselves, as we met very few fellow travelers.
What we didn’t expect were large boulders looming across the paths, and my primeval fear of climbing free-standing rocks almost made me go back. Not only was I afraid of taking a wrong step and badly twisting an ankle; I was also scared of slipping, and falling, hitting my face on the rocks’ surfaces, breaking my eyeglasses, the sharp glass shards lacerating an eyeball, and its viscous contents, including an eyeball, squeezed out. Alex of course was nonchalantly leaping through the high boulders, and laughed aloud when he heard my bizarre thoughts. But he knew I was deathly afraid of the rocks so he very kindly slowed down and offered his arm for me to hold on as I slowly made my way through the side paths, slippery as they were. There were two of these difficult stone paths, but we forged on, even as I fought the worry that going down would be doubly hard.
After nearly an hour, we finally heard the splash of water, and our hearts lifted. We had navigated the 1.8-km course unscathed! Suddenly, we were out on a clearing, and in front of us, water was running softly from a higher pool into a lower one, and then flowed down into the heavy undergrowth. We were wondering where the lingas were, until we took a closer look. Because the water was clear and pristine, we could clearly see the riverbed paved with stone lingas—carved oval stones laid neatly in a grid, each about four inches across, looking like thick scales, one after another. This was the natural sandstone bridge that we read about—this bridge crossed a stream of water that would ultimately flow out into the plains of Siem Reap.
Oval stone carvings on the riverbed representing lingas clearly seen at the left lower corner
These stones, called lingas, were done by hermits during the reign of King Suryavarman I and King Udayadityavarman II during the 11th and 12th centuries. Some documents would even say that these predated the kings, and were done during the 9th century. These lingas were phallic symbols representing the fertility powers of Shiva, the Hindu god. When the river waters flowed through the lingas they were purified, and became instruments of growth and fertility, as they flowed through the plains below. Irrigating the rice fields with these waters then meant a fertile yield with abundant crops. It was said that there were 1,000 of these, from the natural sandstone bridge to the waterfalls below.
Alex and I carefully made our way through the slippery boulders, following the river bends. At around this time I noticed a large, orange butterfly fluttering around us, and even at one time alighting on my shoulder. Perhaps it had sensed my fear of negotiating these large smooth boulders, and was trying to cheer me up with the bright colors of its wings. It was about a 150-meter descent, and according to our guidebooks there should be other Hindu carvings on the stones, but some of them had been vandalized and defaced. Art student graduates from an Angkor university were now at work in their restorations. Ever so slowly we lowered ourselves from stone to stone, and I had to hold on to twisted wooden branches to keep my balance.
The waterfalls that now contains sacred waters
Finally we reached the waterfalls, an elegant flow of water framed by lush trees and vegetations. The carved lingas were supposed to end here, together with many other carvings of Brahma, Vishnu, Shiva, and Lakshmi, and other gods and creatures in Hindu mythology. Alex and I vowed to reread the “Mahabharata” and the “Ramayana,” to reacquaint ourselves with the epics again.
As expected, the way down was more difficult. Some portions were so steep, and the boulders so high, I had to use my hands and sat on the rocks so I could slide down, buttocks first, simply to avoid falling. It was of course not the most elegant manner of descent, but it was the simplest.
We finally met up with Po Lit at the entrance, and were surprised that we had spent three and a half hours in the mountain and river. Stomachs rumbling, our tuktuk driver knew exactly where to take us to lunch: a nearby Khmer restaurant that served a local stir-fried beef called lok lak. The beef was cut into small bite-sized pieces, and cooked in garlic, onions, chilli, black pepper, and lime. There were sliced potatoes beside it. We enjoyed the delicious and flavorful meal slowly, with steamed rice, fresh lime juice and beer. It was enough to just sit awhile and savor the food, enjoy the fresh breeze blowing through the huge open windows, and rest our feet. —KG, GMA News
No comments:
Post a Comment