Sunrise at Angkor Wat

The call comes early in the morning, while the night still holds sway. I take the road northwards. More and more people appear, all going in the same direction. Finally, I am almost in a throng of pilgrims, torch in hand, crossing the causeway, in the pre-light of dawn.

I chose to go without a light, trusting in the lightening sky, going reverently up the steps that will allow me the first glimpse of the temple beyond the wall. I pause a minute before a saffron-draped figure, thinking of the peace inherent to this time of night, reflected in this symbolic statue.

It is almost time.

I hurry along the raised causeway, the towers of the mountain temple black against a dark-blue sky.

The pilgrims are already divided into two groups, on each side of the stone-paved road, waiting to live that moment. The rising of the sun.

The only noise comes from the frogs and the crickets. We are all holding our breath.

Slowly, the sky turns light blue, and we are all watching at the towers’ slow appearance, from black to stone-grey, while their reflection in the pond follows suit.

Slowly, the magic unfolds and disappears. Murmurs, shifting bodies, flashes; the frogs turn silent, the pond loses it mirror-still shine as the insects wake with the arrival of the day; the sun has risen.

The pilgrims vanish, replaced by the tourists they were from the beginning. Local boys offer coffee and breakfast, or the guidebook with all the pictures of Angkor Wat, only one dollar, the women offer silk scarves, special price for you madam, bring one back to your mother! Hey lady do you want a painting? I get them myself!