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JFK Airport, 5am, 8/10/11

How to Nurse a 7-Hour Layover

Tokyo, 8/10/11

A quick primer for when one is stuck in Tokyo's Narita airport for seven hours beginning at 10pm.

Vegetable tempura soba

Do:

• Eat a piping hot bowl of soba, with thick, al dente buckwheat noodles, shredded scallions, and tempura vegetables. The dish will be exorbitantly expensive compared to every other noodle soup you have consumed in Southeast Asia (at $10, roughly 10x), but it will help melt away the loneliness of the cold, sterile, empty airport
• Try (futilely) to sneak into the various airport lounges by pretending to be a frequent traveler, explaining you have lost your frequent flier card, attempting to persuade them that you are a lost child, telling that of course you have applied for that gold card that grants you acceptance it just hasn't arrived in the mail yet.
• Occupy your time by perusing all the luxury retailers including Tiffany's, Cartier, Louis Vuitton, Coach, and Gucci, pretending to be an infinitely discerning patron, despite being quite aromatic with an unshowered chic appearance
• Constantly use the bathroom. As mentioned in one of my original posts, the toilets are so futuristic, you will feel like you're aboard the Starship Enterprise. Bring a book or a magazine and hang out for a couple hours playing with the multitude of heat settings, massages, flushes and bidets. Potentially sing a little jig. Rinse and repeat.
• Visit all the Japanese souvenir shops multiple times, trying to get as many free samples of sake, banana cakes, dried fruit, and candies as possible. If necessary, put on sunglasses or a hat so they don't recognize you during your seventh trip to the sake sample table.

Takoyaki

Do NOT:

• Eat the airport cafeteria's "Takoyaki" -- octopus balls. They will appear very tempting as octopi are quite delicious as far as Cephalopoda go, and fritters are typically fantastic. So how could the combination be bad? Plus, a large advertisement explains, "if you've never tried Takoyaki, you must! It's Japan's must-have snack," and then goes on to describe the balls' provenance. I understand that it may be hard to resist. But hold steady, my friends. The Takoyaki are small bready fritters, roughly the size of golf balls. Eight of them come in a small cardboard box, appearing almost like eggs in a carton. They have the consistency of fresh Pillsbury dinner rolls and are covered in shaved bonito flakes and herbs. The octopus inside is chewy and barely distinguishable and seems to be mixed with some sort of off-tasting, alien creamy mayonnaise substance. They're topped with a salty, sticky sauce tastes like an extremely reduced stock that certainly does little to help the dish. Have a second soba instead.
• Try to go in to Tokyo's center. You are about 45 minutes away, the trains are no longer running, and cabs will be north of $200 one way.
• Attempt to get any sleep. There are no comfortable benches and all the seating has metal armrests which makes lying down impossible. The only sleep option is to curl up in the fetal position on the grey carpeted floor, which feels like abrasive coarse hair. Or pay $15 to rent a bed for a couple hours.
• Attempt to discern anything from the Japanese newspapers and magazines scattered throughout the airport
• Try to listen to your iPod which after being engulfed in sand, mud, salt water, and rain has the battery life that barely makes it through "November Rain"

Looking Back

Bangkok, 8/9/11

As I make my way towards Bangkok airport, here is a quick update on my halfway point checklist.

Lost/Stolen:
-ATM card (replaced)
-SD card reader
-Camera charger (replaced with a terrible $3 knockoff Laos fluorescent version that glows while it charges and makes it difficult to sleep Broke)
-Cargo pants (likely swapped in a hostel washing session)
-Watch
-Money in Hanoi (see below)


Survived:
-Violent motorbike taxi mugging in Hanoi, Vietnam
-Zip-lining in Laos' Bokeo Forest 300 ft. in in the air with no helmet or properly checked harnesses
-Tubing on the Vang Vieng's Nam Song river, laden with death (12 tourist deaths in June - a new record!), disease, injury, rabid pink eye, broken bones, lost friends, drowning, leeches, miserable house music, drugs, and alcohol
-An afternoon at a shooting range in Phnom Penh, Cambodia with military-grade tanks, rocket launchers, grenades and AK-47s
-Consumption of copious amounts of street food, including utterly rancid fried fish
-Terrible sun burns
-Amateur motorbike riding at 60MPH  Motorbiking in the pouring rain, alone, in Vang Vieng, Laos, through rocky dirt and mud paths despite crashing five times and cutting my arms and legs
-Trying to keep up with my guide on my motorbike as he went 65MPH over moon surface-like roads in the pitch dark at 4am in Mui Ne, Vietnam
-Amateur sandsurfing in Mui Ne, Vietnam
-Vaginal dart gun attacks in the Red Light District in Bangkok, Thailand
-Saddle-less elephant riding with a stubborn, disobedient pachyderm in Chiang Mai, Thailand
-Getting wrapped in a python in Chiang Mai, Thailand
-Rolling on the floor with 200 pound adult tigers in Chiang Mai, Thailand
-Feral monkeys climbing all over me in Lop Buri, Thailand
-Scuba diving at 30meters/100ft depths with lethal 5ft long barracudas in Koh Tao, Thailand
-A 15,000 person island rave in Koh Pha Ngan, Thailand
-Nearly being hit in the head with an underwater longboat motor in Koh Phi Phi, Thailand
-Multiple Pompeii-like bouts of traveler's diarrhea

All the ways I have consumed bananas to date:

-Raw, with almost a candy-like sweetness
-Crepes (plain banana, banana/nutella, banana/peanut butter, banana/egg/chocolate)
-Pancakes
-Grilled whole
-Smashed, grilled, and served with a deuce de leche sauce
-Chips with salt and sugar
-Chips sans salt and sugar
-Jam on toast
-Fruit shakes (alone, with pineapple, mango, and/or passionfruit)
-Dried into fruit leathers that look like bacon
-Donut on a stick
-Fried with ice cream
-Fried into fritters with honey dipping sauce
-Wrapped with sticky rice in banana leaves
-Carmelized with mango and served alongside black sticky rice, cooked in coconut milk, and topped with sesame seeds
-Shared with monkeys
-Shared with elephants


All the ways I have consumed local Southeast Asian fish:
-Simply grilled and eaten during sundown on the beaches of Koh Tao, Thailand, while fire twirlers danced in front of me
-Fried and served with roasted vegetables and a light ginger dressing in Koh Phi Phi, Thailand
-Steamed in sour lime juice and chilies in Ayutthaya, Thailand
-Served in spicy river fish soup in Ayutthaya, Thailand
-Steamed with soy and scallions and served alongside jasmine rice shaped like a teddy bear in Kanchanaburi, Thailand
-Fried catfish salad, almost like panzanella, made by students during our cooking class in Chiang Mai, Thailand
-Seemingly delicious fried fish with garlic, herbs, and chilies which turned out to be revoltingly rancid and blood-stained, tasting like decaying human flesh in Chiang Rai, Thailand
-Salt-crusted, lemongrass-stuffed and grilled, served in the Night Market in Chiang Rai, Thailand
-Caught the morning of, brushed with soy, salt, pepper, stuffed with lemongrass and garlic and grilled over charcoal in Luang Prabang, Laos. Eaten this way four nights in a row.
-Made into lettuce wrapped "fish tacos" with pork skin-infused rice pilaf and fresh herbs in Vientiane, Laos
-Marinated in turmeric and grilled in front of me, forming an oily, herbaceous, spicy fish stew with noodles in Hanoi, Vietnam
-Turmeric covered and grilled and presented alongside noodles, peanuts, chilies, pickled vegetables and rice paper in a do-it-yourself spring roll dish at the pro-bono restaurant Koto in Hanoi, Vietnam
-Baked whole with soy and scallions and served family style on a junk boat in Halong Bay, Vietnam
-Marinated and grilled over charcoal during a massive barbeque on our own private island in Halong Bay, Vietnam
-Smoked with chilies and noodles inside banana leaf in Hoi An, Vietnam
-Bone-in steaks covered in chilis and lime juice eaten at a restaurant in the sand in Mui Ne, Vietnam
-Intensely bright, spicy Fish Amok in Phnom Penh and Siem Reap, Cambodia
-Grilled ourselves on large Cambodian barbeques ("Phnom Phleurng's") in Phnom Penh, Vietnam
-Lime-dressed, almost like ceviche, as an appetizer in the degustation in Phnom Penh

Modes of Transportation:
-Airplane
-Tuk-tuk
-Songathaew
-Minivan
-Local bus
-VIP bus
-"Super VIP" sleeper bus
-Local train
-2nd class sleeper train
-Longboat water taxi
-Low-speed ferry
-High-speed industrial ferry
-Mekong slow boat
-Vietnamese junk boat
-Scuba boat
-Motorbike (e.g., super high-powered scooter)
-Motorcycle taxi
-Taxi
-River-wading 4WD pickup truck
-Bicycle
-Zip-line
-Elephant, with saddle
-Elephant, bare-backed
-Ostrich

Truth in Advertising

Soi Cowboy, Red Light District, Bangkok, 8/8/11

Last Day & Night in Southeast Asia

Bangkok, Thailand, 8/8/11

After the hassle of trying to get out Cambodia, I arrive in Bangkok around noon. I'm groggy, sweaty, my muscles contorted into several unnatural positions after the uncomfortable bus ride. My discomfort is quickly remedied by my fourth and final meal at May Kaidee, in a celebration of the spectacular vegetarian restaurant's greatest hits. I'm joined by the Brigade of British Blondes, Harriet, Becky, and Lauren, and together we share May's bright, crunchy fresh spring rolls with sweet crushed peanut sauce and thick, rich Massaman Curry with tofu and brown rice. Dessert is their perfect purple sticky rice with mango, banana, and sesame seeds. May Kaidee still ranks as one of the best meals of my whole trip, the best being the revelatory first meal I had there with Tata and Lexi in the pouring rain a month prior.

Shaken, not Stirred

The Brits and I tour town and we say our final goodbyes, after which I quickly head over to meet Jen. She lives in a high-rise apartment building, whose penthouse roof deck offers stunning views of Bangkok. Jen and I take in the capital city's skyline as the sun sets, while we swim in the rooftop pool and drink Chang's. Jen's apartment where I'm staying for my final night is a palatial two bedroom abode, which came fully furnished and looks like a demo house at Crate and Barrel. The apartment has a huge, ultra-modern eat-in kitchen, hard-wood floors, floor-to-ceiling windows, with two bedrooms and bathrooms. In New York City, it would sleep seventeen; in Bangkok it's a fifth of the price and sleeps one. We reunite with fellow Treehouse Seven member Teresa for a terrific meal of Thai tapas and bespoke cocktails at Soul Food, a year-old restaurant run by an American ex-pat and former food writer. The sleek bi-level space is designed in shades of brown and beige with light wooden paneling with matching tables, chairs, and banquettes. Mood lighting is set by hanging triangular green lamps that resemble those in Grisham movies casting shadows over studious associates pouring over case histories at law libraries. The restaurant's motto is "Wholesome Ingredients. Honest Cooking. Serious Drinks" and has a mission to take classic Thai street food and elevate it in a more comfortable, modern setting. After two months of drinking beer, fruit smoothies, and cheap cocktails out of sand buckets, Soul Food's wine and cocktail list catches me instantly. Drinks are expensive at $6, but they're revelations compared to rubbing alcohol-like concoctions I have been used to drinking. Soul Food's riff on the Old Fashioned is made with bourbon, cranberry juice, Thai basil, and ginger. It's brings an herbal and spicy kick to the classic cocktail; Kentucky by way of Southeast Asia. In my humble opinion, high-quality gin and cucumber are ideal bedfellows; as perfect a match as peanut butter and jelly or Jimmy Page and Robert Plant. Soul Food amplifies the combo with passion fruit, lime, pineapple, and a splash of ginger ale, taking the classic gin enhancer on a trip to the Southern Thai islands. We eat like kings, ordering as many tapas as we can handle: We start with Sriracha chicken wings with pickled ginger and Thai samosas with yogurt dip. Mieng Kham -- lettuce wraps with sweet, tender grilled pork jowl (cheek), with tamarind jam, and an assortment of toppings including peanuts, ginger, chilies, and shallots. Yam Hua Plee is a salad of shredded banana flower tossed with basil, mint, red onion, chilies, and grilled chicken in a spicy coconut dressing. Larb (also known as "laap"), the classic Laotian dish of minced meat tossed with fresh herbs, chilies, and citrus. At Soul Food, the traditional fish is substituted for smoked duck, adding another layer of flavor to a salad that is already spicy, crunchy, and sweet.  Tamarind ribs fall off the bone, covered in a thick pineapple chutney. The meal is the most expensive I've had in two months of traveling at $30 with tip, but I always feel it is important to have fireworks at the end of the celebration. And do we ever, as the small plates are so covered in dried and sauteed chilies, I can feel every millimeter of my nasal passages.

From Google

Mieng Kham

Smoked Duck Larb and 

A View to a Kill

Post-meal, we toast our amazing experiences together and our final night, in style, at Sirocco, Bangkok's tallest roof top bar. Located on the 63rd floor of the Lebua at State Tower Hotel, the destination is actually home to the world's tallest al fresco restaurant. The bar offers breathtaking views of the city including the Chao Phraya river, and due to its glass walls, almost seems as if it is floating in air. The bar itself, is a neon glass circle on the roof's edge, constantly changing colors, almost resembling a UFO, where dapper bartenders shake up wide arrays of ludicrously expensive (for Thailand) martinis including one infused with lime and rosemary and another named after the Hangover II which was filmed at the roof deck. The focal point of the deck is the Sirocco's gold-topped "Dome", which looks like a cross between DC's Jefferson Memorial and Jerusalem's Dome of the Rock, and is home to six fine dining restaurants and cigar lounges. A live jazz band plays standards while well-dressed tourists toast martinis and hope they don't fall off the edge, the result of which would surely kill a small family or cause a tuk-tuk to explode. After two months of non-working toilets, solitary confinement-like hotel rooms, cold showers, sitting on buses next to chickens, leech infestations, and rabid monkey attacks, it's quite refreshing to see the other side of Southeast Asian travel. Sitting on top of the world, with a martini in one hand and two beautiful friends in the other, overlooking Bangkok for as far as the eye can see in a roof deck that resembles ancient Rome, the whole experience feels like a fantasy. Much like my two month experience which is coming to its very end, it feels like an vivid dream. And I don't want to wake up.

From Google

From Google

From Google

From Google

From Google

The Vagina Monologues

We spend the evening exploring Thailand until the wee hours. Final stop is Soi Cowboy, meaning "Cowboy Street" -- a small alleyway lined with strip clubs, bars, and cabarets. Cowboy is one of Bangkok's infamous red light districts although it is located in the upscale Sukhumvit area, which is also home to some of the capital's poshest hotels and restaurants. The area is named after T. G. "Cowboy" Edwards, a retired American pilot who opened one of the first bars there in 1977 (source). Hidden off a busy intersection and, although only 1/4 mile long, the street has around forty bars. The strip is laden with colorful, loud florescent signs, which shine so bright it almost feels like daytime. Although I've never been, the strip reminds me of Las Vegas. Especially given the seediness of the bars and the clientele, and the fact that young, barely-clothed women stand outside, beckoning tourists to enter and holding up signs advertising drink specials. Soi Cowboy is home to Thailand's notorious "Ping-Pong Shows," the content of which will not be repeated in these (web) pages. But to quote my guidebook, women of the ping-pong shows "do everything with their vaginas other than have babies." Like a grade school child's birthday party at a local ice cream shoppe, these shows are often decorated with brightly colored balloons. Unlike those juvenile celebrations, however,  in the neon rainbow underbelly of Bangkok's red light district, around 2am, the inflatables are joined by dart guns. There's still soda, but someone has a peculiar way of drinking it. And High School Musical's soundtrack isn't playing, but someone is a virtuoso on the trumpet.

Drug Abuse Resistance Education

Thailand Border Crossing, 8/8/11

Suddenly that grandiose plan to traffic heroin over the Thai border doesn't seem like such a good idea any more?

See also:
Damage Done
Brokedown Palace
No More Tomorrows
4,000 Days
Send them to Hell
Forget You Had a Daughter

Don't Stop Me Now

Siem Reap, Cambodia -> Bangkok, Thailand, 8/7/11 - 8/8/11

I've only spent four days in Cambodia and the country is refusing to let me leave. Maybe it's because Cambdoia doesn't want me to share the secrets of its potent Amok curry with the rest of the world. Maybe the gregarious locals have so much more of their country they still have yet to share. Many the mythological faces of Banyon have cast a spell over me, turning me into immobile stone as they have been for centuries. Whatever the reason, I can't seem to break free.

Earlier in the day, I spoke to my hotel concierge and booked the 2am overnight bus from Siem Reap, Cambodia to Bangkok, Thailand. The plan was to arrive in the Thai capital by early the following morning. And since the OK Villas Hotel is among the nicest establishments I've stayed in to date, I'm confident that the staff will arrange everything without a hitch.

After saying a final goodbye to Amit, Louise, Elaine, Jen, and Chris (collectively my travel partners for nearly all of Vietnam and Laos), I arrive back at the hotel around 1:15am. I quickly strike up a rapport with three Irish lasses who will be joining me on the long journey. As usual, the transportation arrives significantly late, slightly past 3am. I guess I should've known better and stayed at the bar longer. The girls are quickly ushered onto a minivan for transport to the coach, but my ticket has not been confirmed and the driver refuses my entrance. "And your ticket is not even the correct one," the driver says, odd considering all four of us booked the identical bus at the same hotel concierge. Maybe it's the fact that we're all tired and somewhat inebriated, but I swear the three Irish ladies keep looking back at me as they get loaded into the minivan, eyes longing for our reunion, which may never come. Sunday, bloody Sunday, indeed.

Despite the fact that I urged the hotel staff multiple times to make sure my arrangements were set, they never bothered to call to confirm my ticket. And they somehow managed to give me the wrong ticket to boot. I've seen better, more intelligent service at an ATM. As it's the middle of the night, the entire hotel staff is sleeping and after the minivan shuttle takes off, I quickly sprint around the grounds, searching for staff to wake up. I find one lone yawning security guard and frantically explain my problem, flashing the incorrect and unconfirmed ticket. His job profile is not typically dealing with frantic tourist emergencies and he shrugs his shoulders, his expression telecasting, "I wish this small, high-pitched, nasal, bearded fellow had not found me." I am now causing a scene, but I have no qualms, as if I need to wait to take a typical morning bus (around 10am), my whole final day in Southeast Asia will be bust. Several tuk-tuk drivers fly by, noticing my hysterics, and get out to offer assistance. Eventually a motley crew of two tuk-tuk drivers and the security guard reach hold of the bus company and explain the dilemma. Even though half an hour has passed, the actual bus still hasn't left yet, so I guess I need to be grateful that I'm on Southeast Asian time. Once the issue is resolved, I get picked up by the same minivan shuttle and brought to the bus station. As I have the incorrect, unconfirmed ticket, the station manager informs me I will be sitting adjacent to the driver, essentially on the steps of the coach bus, for ten hours. Luckily, when the bus finally arrives at 4am, only two hours late, it is underbooked and I have a proper seat to myself with a blanket and pillow. Or maybe it seems undersold because I rush on ahead the group and grab hold of the first seat I can find.

I know breaking up is hard to do, Cambodia. I didn't want it to end so soon, either. I want to eat more of your delectable fish Amok, walk through more of the ruins of your ancient empires, learn about your staggering resilience from recent atrocities, and enjoy more pilsners with your friendly locals. I love you too, but don't stop me now.

An Interesting Menu

Siem Reap, Cambodia, 8/7/11

Let's review:

• No pork, so they're potentially going after the Jewish/Hindu/Buddhist/Muslim crowd
• "Grill Sexy Frog" is the house specialty. It must look like the below images. The risque amphibian is a steal at only $1.50
• "Red Snapper Cry" for $5. Is that supposed to be snapper "fry"? An abbreviation for snapper curry? One will never know. All I know is that I prefer my fish to be happy, not sad.
• In case neither of these options impress you, there is always the classic Cambodian entree of Spaghettis "Bolognaise" for $3

I'll Have the Plastic Shard

Siem Reap, Cambodia, 8/7/11

Our final meal together in Cambodia is at Amok, a restaurant named after, and celebrating, the country's national dish. After eating Cambodian BBQ yesterday at restaurant "Cambodia BBQ", it is clear that Siem Reap restaurants could use some creative employees on staff to come up with better names. Amok is located down a hidden alley right in the heart of town. The restaurant is comfortable and beautiful -- walls are painted in burnt orange and decorated with baroque wood carvings. The napkins, tablecloths, and rug are brightly colored with flashy prints. Place mats are made of dark-stained bamboo and the chairs are lavender with neon orange cushions. Plates are beautiful flower-printed blue and white porcelain that would be more at home in Santorini, Greene than Cambodia. Fat candles decorate all the windows and tables, making the Amok feel like a romantic, warm respite from the darkness of its alleyway home. Grammatically defunct signs on the menu remind tourists to "make your stay in Cambodia safe stay" due to filtered ice and "Western standards." The sign also shows the smiling "chef cook" confiding that he "also takes care of your health." 

From website

From Google

From Google

Everyone's favorite "chef cook"

It's late in the evening, so we have the restaurant mostly to ourselves and are dotted on my the solicitous staff. As with yesterday's meals, our group splits into duos, each ordering the degustation (expensive for Cambodia at $10/pp). The platter is even more ornate than at Angkor Palm -- each dish has a specially designed bowl either made out of banana leaf or bamboo, resembling flowers, boats, and petals. In the center of the seven-course platter is a banana leaf cone, a decorative touch to keep the curry below warm. First course is a banana blossom salad with roasted chicken. The blossom resembles emerald spaghetti but has a crunch like green papaya. Mixed with carrots, basil, and a lime vinaigrette, it's bright and refreshing. Second dish is also a salad with lightly poached local Cambodian river fish with long beans, onions, pine nuts, and chilis. Third is a chicken stir fry with whole leaves of basil, onions, peppers, and cashews. The restaurant eponymous dish is available is five different varieties (chicken, beef, pork, fish, tofu) and the menu proudly announces it to be "the best amok in Siem Reap." It is delicious -- hefty filets of catfish in a thick, herbaceous curry stew, with plenty of chilis, mint, basil, roasted onions, and coconut. The dish almost resembles an inverse fried egg - a bright yellow curry surrounding a small white dollop of coconut cream. Although I would give the award for best amok to Angkor Palm, one final taste is necessary before I leave the country as a meal in Cambodia without amok is like a day without sunshine.

One of the dishes of the evening is found to feature a large, sharp piece of plastic. The wait staff is apoplectic over the sight of the foreign material and our pints of Angkor beers are quickly joined by gratis watermelon martinis. As the night wears down, the "chef cook" comes to our table to check on our meal.  His chef's whites and matching hat are basically spotless although it's after 10pm, proving him to be quite a meticulous kitchen overload. He comes bearing a large smile and a large dish of fried bananas with a honey dipping sauce, a dessert he says he is perfecting for the menu. As with all the banana desserts I've eaten around Southeast Asia, they are terrifically juicy and sweet, not even needing the honey sauce. The bananas are followed by a sorbet sampler, with five different flavors served in shot glasses, small pieces of fruit used for identification. The platter includes pineapple, lime, mango, passionfruit, and coconut. We spend the rest of the evening exploring downtown Siem Reap, visiting the terrific night market which takes cement and fish food bags and turns them into bohemian accessories, and closing the night with ice cold pints Angkor Beer drafts.

Psar Chaa district, downtown Siem Reap

Angkor Babies, Day II: Legends of the Hidden Temple

Siem Reap, Cambodia, 8/7/11

The skies are becoming an ominously dark as more and more clouds gather together. Although they were vividly blue this morning, they are now dramatically darker, almost resembling mercury. The scene feels straight out of a classic Hitchcock film, the calm before an attack by four dozen violent birds or a lunatic transvestite with an Oedipus Complex. What's worse, 216 stone faces are staring down at me, eyes closed as if they are secretly plotting. Though the faces wear stoic expressions, the edges of their mouths are slightly upturned, making the stone creatures look slightly nefarious, as if they are hiding some recently committed mischief. The stone beings have oversized, pear-shaped noses, which immediately pick up on my presence upon entering their hallowed grounds. No matter where I turn the faces stare down at me, constantly judging.

For the second part of the afternoon, Amit, Louise, and I are visiting Angkor Thom, the first stop of which is the spectacular Banyon Temple. The complex was built in the late 12th Century by King Jayavarman VII as a Mahayana Buddhist shrine. The sandstone temple is centered around thirty-seven remaining towers (originally forty-nine), each with four faces carved directly into the north, south, east, and west sides. Some scholars believe the faces are of Jayavarman himself, constantly watching his servants. Others believe them to be the faces of Lokesvara, an enlightened Buddhist being, although neither theory has been proven. The stone beings are relatively identical from one tower to the next, most with closed eyes, crooked smiles, large flat noses, and bejeweled headdresses. The presence of the faces lends an energy to Banyon that even Angkor Wat's classical Khmer architecture lacks -- the grounds feel curiously alive. Especially as the weather dramatically changes from blue skies to shimmering silver cloud cover to raging thunderstorms within minutes of our entrance. Like Angkor Wat, Banyon is decorated with several friezes and bas-reliefs, encompassing nearly one mile in length, and incorporating over 11,000 figures.

Lean on me, when you're not strong, and I'll be your friend, I'll help you carry on

Banyon is located in the center of Angkor Thom, a six square mile complex that literally means "Great City." King Jaryavarman VII built the city as the capital of his Khmer Empire in the late 12th Century. In its heyday, Angkor Thom had a population of over one million, at a time when London only was home to 50,000. Angkor Thom lies east of the Siem Reap River and like Angkor Wat is surrounded by a boat. There are four entrances into the ancient city, guarded with 60 ft. Banyon-style towers adorned with quad-faces. If the stone faces do not intimate enemies, the feral monkeys guarding the entrances certainly will. As with Angkor Wat and several other temples around Siem Reap, Thom's entrances are anointed with large causeways symbolizing good versus evil. On one side are 54 enlightened Buddhist gods, Devas, with the opposing side occupied by 54 evil Asuras. Both groups of deities hold giant nagas, the mythological serpent god, as if they are trying to harness his power.

Benevolent Buddhist gods, Devas, protecting the entrance of Angkor Thom

Baphuon is one of Angkor Thom's premiere temples which, like Angkor Wat, was designed to be a representation of the mythical Mt. Meru. The temple was constructed in the 11th Century by King Udayadityavarman II. During the mid-twentieth century, archaeologists completely took apart Baphuon to better understand the ancient Khmer Empire, only to have their research and progress destroyed by the Khmer Rouge. The temple was only recently restored, open to the public in 2008. A restored stone bridge, supported by hundreds of columns, leads to Baphuon's entrance. The Western face of the temple is fashioned into a large reclining Buddha, almost 200 ft. in length.

Path to Baphuon

Baphuon

Phimeanakas was the former royal palace of Angkor Thom, built at the end of the 10th Century by King Rajendravarman. Legend has it that the king spent every evening in the palace's northern tower with a woman he believed to be the human reincarnation of the naga, the mythical Buddhist serpent god. Not even the queen could disturbe this affair. It is said the relationship was mutually beneficial and had to be sustained for the prosperity of the kingdom -- if the the king didn't show for the nightly dalliances, the empire's land would be in danger (as the naga was a protector of the sea and the land); if the reincarnated naga didn't show, the king's death was imminent. As this extramarital affair seemed necessary to preserve the empire and health of all of its civilians, I guess the king came up with a good excuse. Philandering politicians should try using the naga excuse today when they are caught in Minneapolis airports. That said, given that the naga god embodies the form of a large snake, the king's affair danced a fine line with bestiality. The entrance to Phimenakas is known as the Terrace of the Elephants, a 350 meter long patio decorated with short-trunked elephants and female dancers, both of wear elaborate headdresses. The terrace was used as audience seating for grand public festivals and speeches. Khmer Empire citizens would sit beside the statues, watching the king's cavalcade pass, made up of horse-drawn chariots, warriors, elephants, and servants.

Phimeanakas