eat . prey . write: to rise and fall

Imagine.

Imagine for a minute living in a place where your life is completely changed every six months, where Mother Nature changes your home, your method of transportation, and even the air your breathe. This is the life at Tonle Sap, the largest freshwater lake and river system in Southeast Asia.

From November to May, Tonle Sap drains into Mekong River to recede to an area of 3,000 square kilometers. Then from June onward during the monsoon season, the river reverses its flow, causing the lake to expand to 16,000 square kilometers. What results is the definition of human adaptability and resilience as these people build and rebuild their lives from the past to the future.

During the dry season, the villagers at Kompong Kleang plant rice and sesame to make a living; when the water rises and takes away this fertile land, mother nature compensates by providing plentiful fish. It is a cycle of earth and water, with the unchanging goal of continuing life.

From this Great Lake, I also returned to the embrace of earth to visit the final temple on our itinerary: Beng Mealea, meaning lotus pond. This temple had the greatest number of children during my sojourn - probably because it is more remote and has less guards on site.

this is one of my favorite pics

Like the villagers of Tonle Sap, these children have also adapted to their life at the temples, but instead of learning to fish and raise crops, they have learned the languages of tourists from all over the world. They approach tourists in at least three languages: English, Chinese, and Japanese; they are able to count at least a few numbers; and they are able to say the word "candy" in each language. I wonder what experiences they have outside of interaction with tourists. What will their lives be as they grow? One cannot live on candy forever.

No, one cannot live on candy forever, but a little of sugar can certainly sweeten up one's life. On our way back to the hotel in what was our last full day in Siem Reap, we stopped at a small village market to buy an item called kralan. I was familiar with each of its ingredients but had yet to encounter such a combination. To make kralan, glutinous (sticky) rice is cooked with some sugar, red bean, and jack fruit then stuffed inside a bamboo stick. It is then cooked further on open flames for another 30 minutes to become a most satisfying local treat.

Like people, food comes in all types. It can be fiery, bitter, intense, pretentious, overbearing, bland, extravagant, and many other things. But the kralan is gentle. It is like a good friend. When you encounter it the first time, you get the feeling you've always known it, even though you hadn't met. It nourishes you, but never excessively. You savor every moment you have with it, however long or short. When you part from it, you have a feeling of bliss for having had the experience and look forward to when you meet again. That is kralan.

That is also Angkor.