The Smile of Angkor (Part Three)

Given the surging crowds, we decided to avoid the travel group's schedule and start with the outer circuit. At sunrise, we ventured into the countryside, where the red dirt roads were dusty, and low stilted thatch houses lined the way. The clatter of tractors hauling firewood, with dark, lean children bravely standing atop the swaying stacks. The white walls and red tiles signified a school, where students uniformly dressed in black trousers and white shirts. Large, exquisite murals adorned the walls, and the stainless steel tanks of the direct drinking water system gleamed in the sunlight, all details that spoke of the country's reverence for education. We arrived at the remote Banteay Samre before eight o'clock. Morning light danced on the vermilion walls through the dense green leaves, with beautifully carved lintels stretching in succession. Everywhere we looked was touched by time. We wandered through empty corridors, encountered a cat on the long-forgotten stone steps, and saw the light twist through the carved window lattices onto the undulating laterite. At the end of the path guarded by stone lions, dark green vines floated wildly. As we left, a woman in a red dress lightly stepped onto the stairs and disappeared into the corridor. By the time we reached Banteay Srei, the sun was steaming the red earth. Passing through the long corridor, flanked by exquisitely carved pillars like burning flames, the small citadel surrounded by a moat was also built of red sandstone. Light filtered through the tall trees, casting long, bending shadows over the tower-shaped lintels with their exceptionally delicate and beautiful carvings, where beautiful women stood by the stone pillars, framed like paintings. Our driver was a friendly local with curly hair who always smiled. When we reached our destination, he would wait nearby, and in the trunk, he had placed a small refrigerator. When we returned, sweating profusely, we could always have a drink of ice-cold water.