Wednesday, July 31, 1929
Angkor-Vat est un temple brahmanique, élevé a Vishnu, clos par une vaste enciente. L’enciente comprend un fossé rempli d’eau, large de 190 mètres, parementé de blocs de latérite et de grès diaposés en gradins, et dont le bord extérieur a un dévelopment de 5,000 mètres. L’entrée principale et celle de l’Ouest où s’élève le grand portique, vaste édifice de 235 m. de longuer, auquel on accède par une chrussée interrompant le fossé et une terrace extérieux ornée de naga. Un large escalier mème au gopura central, flanqué de deux plus petits; deux baies aux extrémités donnent passage aux éléphants.
Cet édifice est à lui seul un monument. Dans les galeries, les murs sont décorés de nombruese sculptures et, dans la partie méridionale, une statue de Vishnu “genie grand roi” taillée dans un seul bloc de grès, mesure 3 mèt. 25 de hauteur;
This outer building, though worn by time, is a worthy gateway to the Wat or Vat. Broken images of the Buddha are in great numbers while the ancient Cambodian dancers appear in relief on the walls in their fantastic body positions. The outer wall 
joins the ends of this building and is nearly hidden from view from the exterior, entirely so from the interior, by the dense jungle of trees that has grown about it since the abandonment of Angkor-Vat. Indeed, if the Forestry Dept had not cleared away much of this forest on the west and immediately on the other three sides, one could not even see the Vat till standing at its portals. Only the west side has been cleared—the others remaining a dense growth of trees and bushes etc.
From this western gateway, one gets his first unobstructed view of the Vat. In front a long avenue (475 mèt. x 9.50 mèt.) stretches before you, flanked on either side by the tree-cleared Angkor Park, and at the end rises the Vat, tier upon tier, culminating in the tall central tower. There are three levels to this terrace. It is really hard to appreciate the immensity of this huge mass of sandstone; but once at the entrance of the first terrace, its magnitude is stupendous. Its towers gather in, above you, as a pyramid, and to the north and south the cloisters of the first terrace reach far out toward the forest. Around the entire length of these galleries, distance of over 800 mètres, is carved in bas-relief a series of histories, etc. This is a most remarkable piece of work for the greatest care has attended the carvings and they are notably well done.
The bas-reliefs of the first gallery recount the exploits of Vishnu, whom this cult preferred to Siva. The superintending artist must have been well versed in the religious literature for throughout appear the principal scenes from the Mahâbhârata, the Bhâgavatapurâna, the Harivarnça and better still the great epic poem the Râmâyana composed by Vâlmîki. In other parts, great armies at war, armed elephants, chariots, multitudes of warriors, gods and demons—an endless masterpiece of art—dancers, animals, gods, warriors, men trampled underfoot by horses, the monkey army of the Ramayana, spears, swords, bows and arrows—you can almost hear the cries of the men mingled with the clash of steel.
Steps lead to the second terrace 4 mètres above the first. Here the space is divided into four small courts encircled by cloisters. Here too are scores of old broken or worn images and in a cloister between two of the courts a small shrine has been set up. The yellow-robed monks come here to pray and burn their joss-sticks.
To the east of this place, in a large court enclosed by covered and enclosed galleries, rises the third terrace, 13 mètres. The several staircases leading up to it are extremely steep, the acclivity being about like a step ladder—steps a foot or more high and some four inches wide. This type of stairs fits in perfectly with the building, for it enhances the height and keeps the slope of the walls even, for the edifice is constructed like a pyramid. This last terrace has also three courts encircled by cloisters. From here you have a fine view of the four corner towers of the 2nd terrace’s cloisters and the four smaller gateway towers leading down to the first terrace. Where the top terrace’s cloisters meet rises a tall central tower, tapering off as a pyramid toward the top, and, like Cambodian towers, richly sculptured. Under this, one on each side, are four small shrines, damp and foul-smelling. Splendid views of the park and forest may be had from here. In every direction the jungle hems you in. Angkor-Vat is a most impressive monument to the high artistic cultivation of the ancient Khmèrs, standing as it is and has stood for 6 or 7 centuries—abandoned—swallowed up by the relentless jungles—left to disintegrate and crumble to pieces, at the mercy of vegetation and climate.
Continuing east from the Vat, you at once plunge into a dense forest. A path leads to the outer gate where the ruined portal and building give ample testimony to the crushing force of the jungles. Following the path on into the cool undergrowth and giant vine-hung trees you meet with several diverging paths. I followed one to the north for a mile and still had come to nothing but a small empty clearing, so I veered west, and, after some time occasionally came upon a native dwelling of thatch raised on poles. The little naked kids seem to enjoy life to the fullest, playing around, yelling, shooting with small bows and arrows, splashing in a stream, etc. A combination of a number of paths finally brought me to the road leading from Angkor-Vat north to Angkor Thom. A passing shower drove me under the trees, then I took the bus back to Seim Reap, not caring to repeat the 4-mile walk of the morning in getting out to the Vat.
A little Chinese hash house put out an endless coursed déjeuner for 2 piastres—enough food for one day. A few minutes on the railing of my favorite old wooden bridge across the Seim Reap River, and I was on my way back to the ruins, this time to Angkor Thom, “Thom” meaning “city”.
Shortly before coming to the gate, you pass a steep hill on the left. On the top of this is Phnom Bakheng or “Mount of Indra”. The tough climb is more than repaid by the view, unequaled, of the surrounding forests, rice fields, distant hills and even to the Great Lake 15 miles south. The Vat lies in a clearing encircled by its broad moat. Then there is the great moat around the walls of Angkor Thom, only a small portion being visible through the trees.
One would never guess the existence of Angkor Thom. With the exception of the low gray towers of one temple, nothing is to be seen but trees, trees, trees. The once great metropolis has fallen to ruins and has slowly succumbed in a losing battle with the luxuriating vegetation. Even the tall gateway with its 4 big smiling faces, barely 300 yards away, cannot be seen from a height of over 250 ft.
The Phnom Bakheng is built as a pyramid, having four narrow terraces surmounted by a once-tall tower. Dedicated to Siva in the form of a lingam, it has numerous phallic stones in and about the temple.
On three sides the vegetation has completely covered the ruin, and has been partly cleared away on the 4th to permit climbing to the top by the ladder-like stairs. Here damaged traces of Cambodian dancers stand out in relief from crumbling towers.
Between Phnom Bakheng and the south gate is still another ruin—a pyramid-shaped tower, interesting because it is one of the rare Khmer constructions in bricks.
Angkor Thom is bisected into four equal squares by roads leading into the old city from the four cardinal points, meeting at the exact center in the great Bayon Temple, dedicated to Siva in the form of a lingam. It is the most celebrated of the Angkor Thom temples and is 2 or 3 centuries older than is Angkor-Vat. The Bayon arouses singular interest, with its 51 towers of stone, each decorated with the divine face on all four sides—three terraces culminating in a 48 mètre central tower. On the east are the remains of a once beautiful naga terrace. You come across many things of interest while wandering about in the exterior and interior cloisters, small courts, rooms, dark, damp, musty, a putrid
atmosphere, the floor a carpet of bat droppings, the walls often mossy, sometimes all green and damp. The smell is fierce, but if you can go that, your efforts will be rewarded by finding interesting statues, mostly broken, a few carvings, etc. Standing on the third tower, you are in the midst of towers from which smiling stone faces peer. The sanctuary is under the central tower—dark, evil-smelling, damp—harboring the worshipped lingam. The statue of god has been taken out by the enemy warriors to show that the divine protection of Cambodia is at its end.
To the north of the Bayon stand the more important of the ruins, the huge Royal Palace fronting some 300 mètres along the road, and numerous other buildings, all a mass of overgrown ruins. At one time this place must have presented a noble aspect. Today its extensive ruins extend back into the jumble of green and hide its true size. Still, after you have tramped around the terraces, towers, climbed the steps to the highest points, examined the fine sculptures of elephants, dancers, etc., your dogs begin to tell you how large the place is—and by the time you have dodged another shower and walked some seven miles back to Seim Reap because you were too late for the buses, well, you decide to take it easy on the morrow.
It was dark an hour before I reached the village. There is something that gives you a lot of satisfaction, a feeling of freedom and ease, when walking along the black winding road at dark—with blacker walls of jungles on either side; the croak of frogs, swish of bats, last chirping of birds, and an occasional cry of the monkey—a great feeling as I said before—till some lousy mosquito gives you a more acute feeling on your neck or arm—then you suddenly awake to the fact that there are swarms of these pests buzzing about your head.
But the hotel and bed were life-savers—theoretically! As usual after crawling in the net and tucking it in I waged a war on the mosquitoes and other variety of bugs that happened to be within—then lay down for a good night’s rest. But as the preceding night I could not get to sleep—just rolled over and tossed for six hours, getting bit but never able to hear or find mosquitoes. But at last I began to have a dirty suspicion and a dirtier distrust of Chinese hotels in general. Turning on the light, I dove under the sheet to find the mattress lousy with beloved bed-bugs and an extra large breed. That explained two sleepless nights and I wasn’t going to let it explain a third. As I completed my study of animals in Karachi and Europe, I did not care to further investigations or bites, so got dressed and at 2:30AM began a promenade de bonne heure till daylight at 6, not being able to sit down or stop because of mosquitoes.