only a dog would know

5:39 am.

I woke up before dawn on my last morning in Siem Reap to catch the first rays of the sun on Angkor Wat.  After forcing myself out of bed and praying for a beautiful sunrise, I headed down to the lobby to find the tuk-tuk driver already waiting for me.

Even though Cambodia has been hot and humid, it was quite chilly at 6 am, particularly riding in a tuk-tuk with the wind slapping my face.  After a breezy 15 minute ride, we arrived at Angkor Wat, and the sky was already shedding its darkness to reveal a heavy layer of clouds - not the glorious sunrise I was hoping for.

I was not alone.  Hundreds of other people were already camped out along the inside of the western entrance of the temple.  As the far skies lightened in color, there was one collective thought on the grounds of Angkor Wat:  should have stayed in bed this morning.  However, this was still Angkor Wat and there was still a sunrise - it just looked different than what we were hoping for.  My guide would later inform me that March 23 is the day when the sun rises directly over the main tower - a little tip for anyone planning a trip to Siem Reap.

As disappointed tourists began to file out, the atmosphere became a comforting but mysterious quiet.  It was as if the clamor had scared away the temple's soul, and it was peeking out from its hiding place as more and more people left.  I wondered if it would reveal more of itself to me if I tip-toed and kept very quiet.  It was not complete silence, since the chants of monks could be heard from nearby.  While those who stayed made their way toward the inner corridors, I traced the origin of this Buddhist cadence.  However, I dared not approach too close lest I invade their privacy.  Just the calming sound of their chant and the stimulating brilliance of their orange robes were enough to leave an everlasting impression.

exhibit A

 All good things must come to an end.  However, my enjoyment of the morning did not end by my leaving Angkor Wat.  It was abruptly and rudely ended by a woman from China.  I was examining the artwork on the southern wall when I was suddenly aware of the sound of a waterfall.  I thought it was the temple showing me a bit of herself, some sort of divine revelation.   This was shortly followed by a man's voice who asked in Chinese:  what are you doing?  Then I remembered there were two tourists from China nearby with their guide.  We were the only four human souls along this entire corridor.  To the question responded a female voice:  I'm using the toilet.  Oh okay, so that's what the sound was.  It was not holy water descending from above, and I was not favored by the celestial beings.  But wait, there couldn't possibly be a toilet nearby.  I quickly realized that this woman was relieving herself right there on the ground of the temple.  That right - she urinated, peed, went number one.  She and I were separated by a large post, so I was spared from turning into stone.  When she was done, I walked around to find a puddle next to the post.

the woman responsible for exhibit A

What kind of intelligence and culture allowed this woman to permit herself to do this is beyond me.  But I immediately thought of a dog, a female dog, wanting to leave her mark and claim her territory by crouching down and doing her business.  Perhaps this woman wanted to do the same.  She couldn't take a piece of Angkor Wat with her, so she left a little bit of herself in Angkor Wat.  I quickly snapped two photos as evidence.  Maybe she will be recognized by someone so the maintenance staff at the temple would be able to send back what belongs to her.

I came to Angkor Wat this morning hopeful.  I left resentful.  But in between, I was peaceful.  And that's good enough for me.

More than enough.