ANDYBROUWER.CO.UK
CAMBODIA
TALES 2000
Sambor Prei Kuk & Route 6 odyssey
It was just
after 2pm when I reached Kompong Thom, the rain had temporarily
ceased and I booked a double room at the Neak Meas hotel for $8.
Se Eth, the hotel's friendly manager I'd met on my previous
visit, had moved onto new pastures in Pailin and Sokhom, in my
opinion the best moto-driver in town, was
already out on a job. Taking things easy after a hectic last few
days, I went for a stroll around the market, had a look at a room
at the new SamboPreyKoh hotel just over the bridge and returned
to the Neak Meas for a nap.
A knock at
the door soon after put paid to that idea but the wide smile of
an animated Sokhom, who greeted me like a long-lost brother, was
more than compensation. We excitedly recalled our previous
meeting and what had occurred in the intervening twelve months, I
gave him a barbie doll for his young daughter (a present from my
own step-daughter), a letter and two photos from a mutual friend
and he eagerly confirmed his availability for the next two days.
Little did I know that Sokhom had already offered his services to
two female backpackers staying in the same hotel and sitting on
the balcony watching as the rain swamped the main street below, I
felt a 
bit sheepish
as he explained that I was his 'English brother' and he'd get two
other trustworthy motodubs to drive them the following day. They
didn't look too pleased.
After Sokhom's
departure, I managed a couple of hours rest before popping next
door for dinner at the town's main eatery, the Arunras
restaurant. The place was full as I grabbed the last empty table
and ordered chicken and vegetables with rice. Most of the other
customers were glued to the Thai kick-boxing on the television
and that included the orange t-shirted staff. The two backpackers
grudgingly nodded their acknowledgement as they left and I
settled 
down with a
book as it became clear that serving customers was a low
priority. I didn't mind as apart from a handful of food and drink
stalls by the darkened market, the town shuts down around 8pm.
Outside the rain hammered down relentlessly. By 9pm I was back in
my hotel room, watching tv and trying to block out the karaoke
that was booming out somewhere in the hotel's seedier parts. My
mind was made up, tomorrow I'd try the new hotel across the
river.
The following morning I
was up at 5am and spotting Sokhom in the street below, grabbed
some baguettes and water before we left at 6.45am for our outing
to the pre-Angkorean temple complex of Sambor Prei Kuk, some 35
kms northeast of Kompong Thom. We'd done the same trip 
together a
year earlier, but I'd heard of some other temples in the vicinity
and Sokhom was just as keen to seek them out. He showed me his
newly-acquired laminated map of the area, proudly announced that
no-one else had such a document and then confided that a relative
worked at the tourism office in town. It's a prime example of his
resourcefulness and a real desire to do the best job he can. The
additional temples were marked on the map, although locating them
would be a challenge.
There are two
routes to Sambor Prei Kuk. There's the main red-dirt road that
accommodates 4WD vehicles and then there's Sokhom's cross-country
route. His is by far the most interesting and enjoyable as we
weaved through countless villages, across fields and through
flooded tracks, all the time acknowledging the 'hello! bye-byes!'
of the local children and the smiles and waves of the adults. For
the friendliness of the local populace, it's one of the best
trips in Cambodia. Sokhom is well used to a tap on his shoulder
as I quickly jump off the moto, he shouts 'photograph' or
suchlike in Khmer and the children gather round smiling, pulling
faces and often amused by the foreigner in clothes covered in red
dust, dirt and grime. Re-joining the main route, work was being
carried out to strengthen the road and small bridges in
preparation for the increasing number of tourists expected to
visit the temples in the years ahead. At the moment, its a mess
and the recent rains had turned the track into a quagmire.
A little over
two hours after leaving Kompong Thom, we finally reached Sambor
district. Six kilometres north of the main complex, we stopped at
a food stall, where Tia, the local policeman agreed to accompany
us into the forest. After putting on his uniform and collecting
his automatic gun, we negotiated a very narrow track into the
bush, overgrown with fragrant flowers and bushes, until we
entered a small clearing and ahead of us lay the first ruin of a
series of temples known as Krol Robang Romeas. There were two
small groups, each with at least five 
temples in
varying stages of decay and ruin. Prasat Tamom, a laterite
structure without a roof, was the main temple of the first group,
where the other buildings were made of brick and devoid of any
carving that I could detect. With limited sunlight streaming
through the forest canopy, I was concerned that taking clear
pictures was going to be difficult and so it turned out.
A short walk through the
forest and we came upon the second group, where an old woman,
bent with age, was collecting leaves and branches near the
largest of the brick structures, known as Prasat Srey Krop Leak.
A single lintel in the Sambor style, remained intact on one of
the nearby smaller temples, but all were in disrepair. Sokhom
believed that the whole group was constructed in the ninth
century, around the same time as the Roluos group near Angkor. I
wasn't going to argue and 
whilst they
were no match for their more serious cousins a few kilometres to
the south, their secluded location made it a worthwhile detour.
As we dropped Tia off at his stall, he confirmed that no other
tourists had ever stopped to look at 'his' temples, only
conservation staff from Siem Reap. A little further on, we left
the road again, to seek out a solitary temple known as Prasat
Rousey Roleak, but all we found was a small wooded hillock with a
few bricks and sandstone pieces as evidence that a temple had
once existed on the spot, overlooking a tranquil pond.
Just before
10am we reached the hut that signals the entrance to Sambor Prei
Kuk. I paid $2 to sign-in, although the entrance fee is
discretionary and we headed for Prasat Tao, in the central group,
one of three that make up the former 7th century Chenla capital
city, built some 500 years before Angkor Wat. Its an impressively
large brick structure, with two restored lions on guard outside
the front entrance and straddled by an enormous fig tree, with
delicately carved lintels and 'flying palaces' still in place.
Sokhom suggested we make a detour from the usual route to visit
two large solitary temples that lie outside the main complex. In
the past twelve months, Sokhom had certainly done his homework
and it was paying dividends for this visitor. The first was 
Prasat
Trapeang Ropeak, a substantial brick edifice, uniquely open to
the west and next was, Prasat Chongkot Sampau, another large
brick temple with unusual sculpted brick panels and large,
voracious red ants, determined to protect their territory.
Back on the normal
circuit, the southern group and its main temple, Prasat Neak Poan
('cobra' temple) was our next stop. Half of the eight towers in
the group were swathed in glorious sunlight as we encountered our
first fellow tourists of the day. The two backpackers from the
Neak Meas arrived with their stand-in motodubs and a well-heeled
couple in a 4WD wagon also appeared with their French-speaking
guide and police escort. Closeby, the ten temples of 
the northern
cluster have relief carvings, some are covered in dense foliage
but Prasat Sambo has now been completely cleared of vegetation,
although its in disrepair after suffering bomb damage in the
early 1970s. Crossing the access road, we re-visited the cella of
Ashram Moha Reusey and nearby Prasat Bos Ream while Prasat
Sandan, located 100 metres away in lush forest, is a half-ruin.
Sokhom meanwhile, introduced me to more of the local wildlife
after we'd seen a snake basking in the sun earlier on, when he
carefully picked up a scorpion to show me at close quarters. Too
close for my liking.
We left the
Sambor complex and returned to sample some beef and vegetable
broth washed down with hot tea and coconut milk at the stall of
our police guide, Tia. I gave him a few thousand riel as a thank
you and we set off on our return leg back to town. With the sun
now overhead, the day was hotting up although the track was still
underwater in places and fording these became a test of Sokhom's
skill. Only once did I end up ankle-deep in muddy water when the
sandy bottom of a large pool of water caused us to suddenly stop
in our tracks. This caused a great deal of amusement to a
watching group of children who'd decided this was to be their
entertainment for the day. The journey back was just as
delightful and rewarding as our earlier trek had been and
encapsulates all that is enjoyable in travelling around the
Cambodian countryside.
By 2.30pm we
were back in town, I'd changed hotels and showered away the dirt
and dust. My new room at the SamboPreyKoh hotel cost $10, was
spotlessly clean and had a nice view overlooking the Stung Sen
river. I'd planned to have a lazy afternoon but Sokhom dropped by
to whisk me off to the tourism office to meet his uncle and to
discuss our plan to locate a series of ancient temples, south
along Route 6, the following day. The tourism office was a large
wooden first floor room, accessed by a rickety ladder and
partitioned off from other council departments, including
planning and schools amongst others. For department, read a desk
and chair. Our next stop was the town's arts and culture depot
which housed a trio of stone lions removed from Sambor for safe
keeping before Sokhom took his leave to prepare for the English
class he gives every evening. I took the opportunity to sample a
'tikalok', a refreshing fruit drink that I was developing a real
taste for, at a stall adjacent to the market. For my evening
meal, I decided to try out the hotel's ground floor restaurant
and ate early in the evening. The menu had a smattering of
English, the clientele was all local and the meal was edible. I
was tucked up in bed by 9.30pm and without the thud of the Neak
Meas' karaoke, I fell into a deep sleep.
Day three in
Kompong Thom necessitated a prompt departure at 7am with Sokhom's
radiant smile oozing confidence that he knew the location of the
half-dozen temples we'd planned to visit on our day's trek south
along the highway. It turned out he didn't know where they all
were but he is the best moto-driver in town and
wasn't going to let a little thing like that spoil our day. When
in doubt, he'll quiz the locals until he gets the answer he's
looking for and so it proved. For the record, Sokhom was born in
Phnom Penh 36 years ago. As a child, he managed to survive the
Pol Pot years but fled the country for the refugee camps on the
Thai border during the Vietnamese occupation in 1981 at the age
of seventeen. By 1990, he'd returned to Cambodia and settled in
Kompong Thom as it was easier to earn a living wage than in his
home city. Although by day he's a motodub, by night he earns a
few extra riel for his wife and young daughter by teaching
English. His dream is to own his own plot of land and to give up
his moto to become a farmer. My fingers are firmly crossed that
he fulfils that dream - it couldn't happen to a nicer gentleman.
He's a careful, considerate and resourceful driver and guide and
a personal friend into the bargain.
At Sokhom's
suggestion, we headed for the temple furthest away as our first
port of call. He reckoned it was some 70 kms from Kompong Thom
and it took us 2½ hours to get to Kohak Nokor, a large eleventh
century laterite complex. Fortunately for us, the sun remained
behind cloud for most of the trip and Route 6 is in reasonable
condition for long stretches, although in others its a real
bone-shaker. The temple, in the grounds of a modern pagoda, was a
couple of kilometres from the main highway and is located in the
village of Tradongpong. As we arrived, the temple's conservator,
Ker Lok, proudly stepped forward to shake our hands and fill us
in on its history. We walked around the temple, which he keeps in
an immaculate condition and were joined by the local primary
schoolteacher Lim. He appeared when most of his class spotted me
and decided to all say 'hello! what is your name?' at once. The
main sanctuary was very dark and full of bats, just one lintel
remained in situ and Ker Lok had collected together a few bits of
sculpture near the main gopura entrance. Before we left he
insisted I sign his elaborate visitors book, which I was more
than happy to do.
Retracing our
steps along Route 6, 'winnowing' of rice and grain (separating
the chaff by dropping the grain onto mats and allowing it to dry
in the mid-day sun) was taking place everywhere. We stopped for
petrol and refreshments at the dusty town of Kompong Thmar and
then turned off along a World Food Program road for three
kilometres before arriving at the hamlet of Thnot Chum. A couple
of villagers appeared and one of them, with only a krama covering
his modesty, was more than happy to show us the two temples
located in fields at either end of his village. Prasat Thnot Chum
was a brick tower with an upturned lintel lying on the floor and
a doorway jealously guarded by a nest of bees. Walking amongst
the traditional wooden houses on stilts and acknowledging the
smiles of the villagers, we reached Prasat Kambot, surrounded by
vegetation and partly ruined but with a sanskrit inscription on a
doorway panel. I gave our guide a few hundred riel for his time,
as he led us back to our moto and soon we were back on the road
leading to the main highway.
It was 1pm by
the time we reached the village of Prasat and pulled into the
grounds of a relatively modern pagoda that had fallen into
disrepair. Immediately behind it was a much older tall brick
tower known as Prasat Phum Prasat. The Angkorean tower had fared
better that its more modern neighbour and still bore carvings,
covered in white stucco, a fine quality lintel still in place
above the main doorway and the remains of a broken lion statue.
We asked a monk nearby for the temple's history but were met with
a blank stare and stony silence, so we didn't hang about and set
off for our next stop. Twenty minutes later, we reached the small
town of Tang Krasan and a kilometre along a muddy lane led to
another new pagoda under construction, a regular sight in
Cambodia. In the main courtyard stood Kuk Veang, a neat but small
Angkorean brick tower with a defaced lintel above the entrance
and a more recent tin roof, set inside a wooden fence and
surrounded by colourful flowers. Returning to the main road, we
seated ourselves at a roadside stall and quickly demolished two
large bowls of rice, pork and cabbage. Halfway through my meal,
the largest red ant I've ever seen emerged from the depths of my
broth, obviously less hungry than before and much luckier than
the baby pig, scrawny hens and painfully-thin dog that had
positioned themselves around the bench looking for scraps.
An hour
later, Sayow village signalled the location of the final leg of
our tour. Three kilometres along another straight WFP road and
just before Roka village, the temple of Kuk Roka (also known as
Prasat Khnong Khum) stood in a clearing. Under the scrutiny of a
bunch of small children and the local ice-lolly seller and her
friends, Sokhom explained that the two lintels he was sat on had
been stolen from Sambor Prei Kuk, recovered by police and placed
here for safety. The main sandstone sanctuary, with a definite
lean to one side, also retained a couple of lintels in situ, one
of which was a particularly fine example and a sanskrit
inscription at the main entrance to the shrine. Also very
noticeable, when I approached the doorway was an army of ants on
the move and in no mood to be disturbed. A couple of bites and I
quickly retreated. Our return to Kompong Thom by 3pm, signalled
the end of eight hours on the back of Sokhom's moto and I was
relieved. My rear end was in agony.
We stopped at Sokhom's small wooden house,
near the centre of town, but unfortunately his wife and daughter
were at the market and school respectively, according to the
neighbour who passed over the key. He quickly located a couple of
blue plastic chairs, invited me to sit outside the front door,
went inside and produced a few photographs and invited his
neighbours to join us. One of the pictures was taken on my visit
twelve months earlier and showed us both on top of Phnom Santuk.
He said it was his favourite picture and with his usual wide
grin, thrust it into my hand. Despite my protests, he refused to
take it back. I felt very humble. I left Sokhom an hour 
later,
agreeing to meet early the next morning before I caught the
pick-up truck to Siem Reap, some 150 kms northwest along Route 6.
After a walk along the
riverbank and a two hour rest in my hotel room, I stopped for a
tikalok near the market on my way to dinner at the Arunras. It
was almost empty and my chicken with fried pineapple, rice and
chips arrived quickly and was pretty tasty. The brightness of the
full moon reflected on the still surface of the Stung Sen river
as I walked back to my hotel, capped a successful day's
adventure. Awake early the following morning, Sokhom arrived on
cue just before 7am to ferry me to the pick-up truck departure
point and we said our goodbyes, with much back-slapping and
handshakes, promising to keep in touch until my next visit. Two
seats in the front of the pick-up gave me acres of room compared
to the five people squashed into the seat behind and another five
in the bed of the truck, balanced precariously on top of a huge
pile of sacks.
Immediately
we left Kompong Thom, Route 6 deteriorated badly. The mud from
the recent rains had dried into large ruts and deep craters, many
small bridges were close to collapse or had been repaired by
locals who demanded payment before allowing us to cross. We
stopped at a cafe in the town of Stoung (also known as Kompong
Chen), where I was joined by Eng Veng, a Phnom Penh-based guide
and his Chinese-speaking father for a stop-gap meal. As we left
Stoung, we passed a killing fields memorial and a long and
occasionally heated discussion in Khmer began. It was still going
when we reached Kompong Kdei and I jumped out to take a few
pictures of the incredibly well-preserved Angkorean bridge with
large nagas at Spean Praptos. Veng then explained that Khum, our
friendly driver, used to be a Khmer Rouge cadre and had taken
part in a failed attempt to blow up the bridge before changing
sides and was later integrated into the Cambodian army before
being demobbed. It was a sobering reminder that anyone you meet
in Cambodia could be ex-Khmer Rouge, they were after all, just
ordinary Cambodians. After eight exhausting hours on the road, we
reached Siem Reap market at 4pm and I headed off for a refreshing
shower at the Bakong guesthouse on Sivutha Street.
Cambodia Tales : Messageboard : Next : E-mail
The contents of this website cannot be
reproduced or copied without permission of the site author. © Andy Brouwer 2005