Indy Jones And The Temple of Beng Maelea

This was the day I'd been waiting for. The long trip away from the city and the (lack of) tourists to THE temple; the one that only die-hard enthusiasts would bother travelling to reach. Of course, no journey should be easy, so how to travel 80km each way? A tuk-tuk that would take 3 hours, at about £20 and fairly comfortable? A taxi for £40, a bit faster, and air-conned? Or a motorbike for just under 2 hours, for £10? But, a motorbike? With the chief rule being 'cheap' over 'safe'* as well as my new found motto to not turn anything down, ever (except drugs)**, a motorbike it was. With Som - a youngish Cambodian with spare helmets - up front, Des in the middle, and me hanging on for dear life at the back, off we sped.

The road out of Siem Reap was mayhem and, yes, it was crazy riding a bike for the first time in my life in a country where there ain't no road rules except 'you' have right of way. But... I loved it. It's the opposite phenomenon to watching a rollercoaster - they don't look so bad from a distance but on them it's insane. On a motorbike, it feels a lot safer sitting on one than watching it go by. Stupid or courageous - up to you.

The ride was long though, and uncomfortable. However, it was worth it for the sights, and the breeze.


The road wasn't so bumpy and had obviously come a long way in the three years since Lonely Planet described it. Still, I don't think these little piggies were in for as much a treat. Off to market they go.



And so did we, stopping at a really local area to let the bike cool down.



The temple was a dream come true and more. Hardly anyone else around, and the advice given by the staff at the exit: There are wooden walkways built around the temple; don't use them. Climb and explore.

So I did.


Beng Maelea, built in the 12th Century, has been consumed by the jungle around it, hardly a wall still standing in one piece. Carvings pop out under the foloage and hanging vines, and doorframes slant towards the ground so that swooping under them or climbing over is the only choice.


There were a few local kids around who were happy to act as tour guides. Never has the term 'like the back of their hand' been so true. Their English lacked somewhat but they made up for it with their outbursts, entertaining us by swinging on vines, sudden attempts to breakdance, and showing hidden corners that it was nearly possible to imagine were being discovered for the first time. They were rewarded.


The best preserved area was a library in the North section, with a creepy dark chamber.


What a place.

*I'm sure that should be the other way around.
**this lease of life didn't last long as I gave it up the next day. You can forgive me when you see the word in question: spiders.