Angkor Day 4: Angkor Wat

(Nana and I are traveling until July 7, but we've put a couple posts in the pipeline to tide you over until then.)

I've wanted to see Angkor Wat since I was a kid. I remember sitting in the old family room in Pittsburgh watching a TV show about the Khmer temples, recently re-opened to the world after decades of civil war. Like most in the West, I had known nothing about this sprawling Southeast Asian empire, a state which I found completely unacceptable. I resolved to visit these temples, a resolution which eventually crystallized into a desire to "see Angkor Wat."

No, not on the shirt - behind you! (And all around you.)

Of course, I wasn't the only one - Angkor Wat is now one of Asia's biggest tourist sites, bustling with sightseers even on a scorching day at the height of the Cambodian summer. Like many of those tourists, I was surprised to find that Angkor Wat, despite its size, is only a fraction of the Khmer Empire's architectural legacy. (And not even my favorite fraction - that would have to be the Bayon.)

But I was also surprised to find that Angkor Wat, unlike so many tourist attractions around the world, actually looks much bigger in person. None of the photos below comes close to capturing the size of the place: Angkor Wat is less a temple than it is a city, built on a scale that dwarfs any individual piece of the whole. In many ways, it is literally too big to comprehend.

The view across the moat. Those tiny-looking towers in the distance? Remember them.

For instance: the western gate of Angkor Wat, shown below. It's larger than the central tower of most surviving Angkor temples, even after its uppermost levels have collapsed.

Just one fairly forgettable piece of the Angkor Wat complex.

Behind that huge wall - itself behind a huge moat - is a giant plaza, with five tiny-looking towers at the far end of a huge stone causeway.

In the old days, this space would have housed a bustling holy city - built largely of low wooden structures that have not survived.

Note how you can barely spot this building in the previous photo. The little wooden sign in front is taller than a grown man.

Inside the western entrance to the main structure, which itself occupies less than 20% of the total footprint of the temple, are three large ritual pools.

Here's one. They're drained these days, for conservation.

Here's another.

Oh, and did I mention that nearly every square inch of each gallery is covered in decorative carvings?

Angkor Wat is home to bas-relief carvings at least as spectacular as those of the Bayon - though in this case they're entirely mythological or historical, whereas the Bayon reliefs include scenes from everyday life.

Of course, all of this is just the ground level of the main structure: behind and above these galleries are five high towers atop a stone terrace, representing the holy Mt. Meru of Hindu mythology.

Starting the climb.

This picture begins to give some sense of scale: you can see the western gate below and to the left of the yellow balloon, plus the library mentioned earlier just right of center. Note that this is the view from one of the intermediate terraces - not quite the top of the temple mountain.

Looking down on an intermediate courtyard.

One of the four "smaller" towers atop the central structure. 

The central tower itself - tall in its own right, even if it weren't atop a  high terrace. All together, the tower is 65 meters (about 215 feet) off the ground.

So how does one even begin to understand such an enormous structure? One common way is to contrast Angkor Wat with the Bayon (reminder: the one with all the face towers): Angkor Wat is huge, classical, symmetrical, impressive; the Bayon is small, ornate, asymmetrical, intimate.

Another is the tried-and-true archaeological method of extrapolating (sometimes wildly) from tiny details. For instance: Angkor Wat is oriented to the west rather than the east and its mythological bas reliefs are read in reverse of the usual order, just like the rituals in a Hindu funerary rite. Thus some claim that Angkor Wat must be the world's largest mausoleum, giving Suryavarman II the standing record for world's biggest grave. Then again, there are a half-dozen competing theories to account for all of Angkor Wat's numerous quirks.

On a personal level, even a couple months later, we're both still processing this experience. As a building, Angkor Wat it simply larger than a single mind. Which makes sense, as its design and construction involved countless thousands of laborers and artisans, each of whom shaped the final product over the decades of its construction. Even today, the people who use the site continue to shape it: there are active Buddhist shrines scattered throughout the structure . . .

. . . coupled with ongoing efforts to restore and conserve Angkor Wat for future generations.

A badly weathered face of the central tower.

Restoration work on one side of the central tower.

Wednesday Weirdness: Various Kinds of Salt [from] All Over the World

That is, in fact, the name of this delightful little shop on Naha, Okinawa's Kokusai-dori shopping street.

They do not fail to deliver on promises: here's a huge table of salts, free for the tasting.

They even seemed to offer master classes through which pupils could be trained as "salt sommeliers."

Nana and Kath may have found a new calling.

A Month of Madness, Some of it Welcome: or, Making Excuses

Please believe me when I say I hate writing about not writing. But there come times in every amateur blogger's career when the demands of actual life must take precedence over the demands of the loyal dozens who read our blog.

Now is such a time: with the last frantic weeks of the school year upon us - made even more frantic by a bunch of travel for both business and pleasure - it seems highly unlikely that we'll be blogging much between now and early July, when we get back to the States. Between now and then, we'll be averaging over two flights per week - crossing the Pacific twice (once north to south, once west to east, roughly speaking), plus the equator once in each direction.

We'll still try to post something from each destination, and we'll try to keep friends and family informed, but don't be alarmed if we drop off the radar a bit.

Chiang Mai: Lila Thai Massage

Besides the whole elephant thing, Justin and my favorite thing in Chiang Mai was Thai massage. I had never had a Thai massage and Justin had never had a massage of any kind, but after an arduous day of elephant riding we decided to give it a shot. We were riding around looking for another place when one of Thailand's afternoon thundershowers hit. Hopping off the scooter to wait out the storm, we found ourselves accidentally in front of the storefront of one of Lila Thai Massage's 4 Chiang Mai locations. God watches out for fools and expats, and particularly expats who are total fools.

Justin had been intrigued by Lonely Planet's listing of the Chiang Mai Womens' Prison Massage Center. According to the Kamlangjai Project, a program for female inmates affiliated with princess from the Thai royal family, Thailand has the fourth highest number of incarcerated women in the world (remarkable, seeing as the leaders - USA, China, and Russia - have vastly higher populations, and a fondness with incarceration). Women offenders, presumably nonviolent ones (it seems drugs is a common offense), are trained as masseuses to allow them find legitimate work when they are released. We had a similar program in Ohio where I grew up, where inmates could train in landscaping. The women complete 180 hours of training and then must pass a national licensing exam.

It seems, however, that the women had trouble finding massage parlors which would hire them. Hence Lila, a chain of massage parlors staffed by these former inmates.

So Justin and I went in, not really knowing what we were getting into but game. The staff all has enough English to get through the spa "menu." We chose the 1 hour Thai Traditional Massage. The price is excellent - 180 baht, or about $6, for the full hour. The lowest I saw near the old town was 150 ($5). Things start off with a foot bath, since feet are a bit gross in Thailand. I mean, culturally, they're considered dirty and low (the furthest part of the body from the head, which is the spiritual center). But they're also literally gross because it's hot and you've been walking around in sandals all day. So I fully support the foot bath.

Check out the family cankles!

After, you change into a comfy pajama-ish pair of pants and shirt and the Thai massage begins. Justin read a description of Thai massage as "like assisted yoga." Basically, imagine that massage and wrestling had a baby. Your masseuse will use her entire body to give you a working-over. Jean-Claude Van Damme's critically-acclaimed masterpiece Kickboxer includes the immortal line "They kick differently here! With knees, and elbows!" Well, in Chiang Mai, they massage differently: with knees, and elbows, and feet, and forearms, and you name it.

You have to be in good shape to even have a Thai massage. Here are some positions you might find yourself in during a Thai massage:

The Full Nelson:

http://www.ratana-thaimassagespa.com.au/our-packages

The Dirty Dancing Warm-Up:

http://www.thaimassagechicago.us/thaimassagechicagofaq.html

The "Bates from Downton Abbey" Special:

http://www.little-jasmine.com/

And of course, the Kidney Heimlich:

http://www.lovebeijingmassage.com/thai-massage.asp

And the crazy thing is that all these contorted poses work: Thai massage feels amazing. It's like a methodical low-impact workout and stretch for every single cell in your body. Afterwards, you have all the great mellowness of a massage combined with the virtuous endorphin buzz of a workout. Justin and I went on a bit of a binge and had three Thai massages in six days, and honesty could probably have gone for at least another one or two. The women at Lila were terrific (we tried 3 of their 4 locations) and I strongly recommend them. If only they'd open up a Japan branch... at Chiang Mai prices!

Wednesday Weirdness: Avocado Sashimi

Turns out it's a thing.

I don't know about you, but when I think "interesting," I think "the history of the avocado in Japanese cuisine."

It may surprise you to learn that avocado is not native to Japan. It actually entered Japanese cuisine via California, where transplanted Japanese sushi chefs were looking for a cheap, palatable alternative to toro, or fatty tuna belly.

The Japanese, it turns out, are obsessed with toro, thanks to its rich, fatty flavor and creamy texture. But if you don't mind dropping the tuna-ish taste of toro, avocado is actually a decent approximation. Savvy chefs didn't have to think too hard about swapping out an expensive fish product with little or no distribution in the US for something that, in California, literally grows on trees. Everywhere.

Hence the California roll was born and subsequently transplanted back to Japan, where it remains the only staple of American sushi you can regularly find on the menu. Before long, the avocado took off on its own, popping up in a variety of sushi and non-sushi dishes. These days, reasonably priced avocados can be found in most grocery stores. In fact, they're typically cheaper than they are in the eastern US, and for us at least they've become an important staple as we've tried to trim our consumption of meat.

And avocado sashimi may be the single easiest recipe in the world.

1. Slice an avocado or two.
2. Squeeze a lemon wedge over top.
3. Dip in soy sauce with wasabi to taste.

 Delicious and nutritions.

Today's Lesson

アボカドさしみをします。

a-bo-ka-do sa-shi-mi shi-ma-su

avocado sashimi make

(I) make avocado sashimi.

Sending Money by Japan Post; Or, Carrying Loads of Cash

Pretty much every customs form in the world has a line where you, dear traveller, must declare whether you're carrying more than the equivalent of $10,000 US in cash or cash instruments. I used to wonder what kind of people just had ten grand on them. I mean, who carries ten thousand freaking dollars in cash? Maybe I've read too many Greek myths, but that just seems beyond insane - a level of implied hubris that's practically begging the universe to steal your stash.

So why am I about to show you a picture of Nana holding over $10,000 US in Japanese yen?

Instead of dead presidents, we have dead 19th-century Japanese intellectuals.

You see, Japan is a cash economy. You pay for your dinner in cash. You pay for your groceries in cash. You pay for your domestic plane tickets and your all-female musical theater revue tickets in cash. Granted, you have to go use a special ticket machine at the convenience store - but when you're done, you take the stub to the counter and pay. In cash.

If you're us, you also need reams of paper and a patient Japanese clerk.

I'd write a post about how we did this, but it basically involved printing out a bunch of stuff in Japanese, handing it to the guy behind the counter, and hoping for the best.

There are a couple of reasons for this. First, for anything but entertainment, the Japanese are pretty technophobic. Scratch the surface of any business's filing system and it's dead trees as far as the eye can see.

Second, Japan is pretty safe. Petty theft is extremely rare, making loss the only common risk involved in carrying cash.

Third, the Japanese are fiscally ultra-conservative. While household savings rates in Japan have fallen from their boom-time peaks, the Japanese still save a lot of money, most of which they shovel into low-risk, low-return investments like savings accounts and government bonds. As a result, credit cards aren't nearly as ubiquitous here as they are in the States - and neither are the many credit-card-driven point-of-sale technologies that make American debit cards possible.

Finally, the government itself is extremely conservative when it comes to banking and finance. Good for dodging credit crunches and keeping the yen high, not so for providing high-tech infrastructure and customer service. And when it comes to international banking, it's almost medieval: most Japanese have little reason to send money overseas, so naturally the process is both expensive and viewed with suspicion.

This is a roundabout way of saying that, in Japan, most of the usual tricks for sending money home simply don't work. Paypal? Forget it. Online banking? Unheard of. You can go to your bank in person and arrange a reasonably fast wire transfer, but it's super expensive and there are a lot of annoying little regulatory hoops.

That's why most foreigners send their money home by Japan Post.

Now, don't panic - that's not quite what you think, though you are allowed to send cash by mail within Japan.

You see, Japan Post is also a savings bank. As a savings bank, they offer a "transfer" service that basically involves issuing a secure foreign-currency money order in your name, then physically mailing it to your bank, where it's deposited it into your account.

So once in a blue moon, when we have savings to liberate from our zero-interest Japanese savings account (?!?), we have to go through a mildly terrifying ordeal that looks something like this:

1. Find your banking info. This includes the street address of your "home branch," which is barely even a thing in the US, but they have to send the money order somewhere.
2. Withdraw about $5000 from the ATM. That's not an extra zero - $5000 is the daily limit. 
3. Bike very, very carefully for the quarter mile between the ATM and the post office.
4. Fill out a goofy old form printed in English by an ancient dot-matrix printer.
5. Walk out the door and promptly forget about the fact that you just sent a five-figure money order across the Pacific.
6. Be pleasantly surprised and feel irrationally richer when the money appears in your US account.

And that's Japanese technology in a nutshell: we can use our lightning-fast broadband connection to check our balance on a different continent, but only after we've mailed ourselves a million-yen money order we had to pay for in cash.

How to get on an elephant

I am working on a post on our visit to Patara Elephant Farm, but the truth is a day like that really defies words. So here's some of the 360 photos and video we took that day to answer to the immortal question, "How do you get on an elephant?"

One of two ways. The most common way is up the side, standing on the foreleg and grabbing the ear.

My high school motto was "Strength and Grace." I got 50% right.

But if you're Justin, and you get a crotchety elephant named Mei Kham Souk (note: spelling is me being extremely creative), then she won't let you climb up her leg. You have to do the second way: climb over the head.

And hey presto! That's all it takes to go from landlubber:

to elephant jockey!

LOOK MA NO HANDS!

What, you want to know how to get DOWN? Oh, fine.Well, first, you tap the elephant on the head and say "Down," in Thai. Which I don't remember.

Then, over the head you go!

Then thank the elephant. They remember if you don't.

Try to get a good photographer. Then you can immortalize the 1/64th of a second in which you don't look like a total klunk and persuade everybody that this was normal for the day.

 

And that's all for today's lesson. Upcoming lesson include "How to feed your elephant," "How to bathe your elephant," "How to swim with elephants," and "How (and why) to smell elephant poop."