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Bayon Temple, Angkor Thom

How many pigs can you get on the back of a motorcycle? The answer, it seems, is three. At least, that’s the largest number of porkers that we saw being given a spin around the back roads of Cambodia. Recently slaughtered and stacked neatly behind the driver, their legs swayed loosely each time the vehicle went around a corner, giving the alarming impression that at any moment they might come wriggling and squealing back to life.

And it’s not just pigs either. The Cambodians, perhaps even more than the Vietnamese, love their motorbikes and use them to transport everything from sacks of rice to huge bunches of bananas to families of five. As we bussed, boated and cycled our way around the country we could only shake our heads in wonder each time one of these two-wheeled loads went past, and keep our fingers crossed that it wouldn’t tip over at the next corner. (It never did.)

After spending a few days in Phnom Penh, we travelled to the north-western city of Siem Reap. The main reason we were here was to see the temples and palaces of the Angkor period, built between the 9th and 13th Centuries, when the Cambodians carved out a huge and prosperous empire for themselves that encompassed much of present day Vietnam, Laos, Burma and Thailand.

Dozens of temples and other buildings from the heyday of Angkor’s power are spread out over an area of more than 100 square kilometres around Siem Reap. Many of the most famous and most impressive ruins  are fairly close to town though, so we decided, at least for our first couple of days there, to see the sights by bicycle.

Rosie pursued by hawkers at an Angkor temple

On our first day, having risen at 5.30 AM to avoid the heat and torrential downpours of the afternoon, we cycled to Angkor Wat which is 5km or so from the centre of Siem Reap. On the approach, you cycle around a huge moat, before the complex’s famous towers suddenly reveal themselves to you in all their higgeldy-piggedly glory. A series of bridges and raised walkways leads from outer to inner to inner-inner courtyards, in what some observers have taken as a metaphor for a trip back to the beginnings of the universe. (They might have stopped on their way for a funny cigarette or two.)

Angkor Wat was built by Suryavarman II, who ruled from 1112 to 1152, to honour the Hindu god Vishnu. Indeed, one thing that’s striking when touring the Angkor temples is how much of an Indian influence there is, an influence that sets Cambodia squarely apart from neighbouring Vietnam, where the dominant cultural reference point was historically Chinese. At Angkor, the Hindu gods are as important as the Buddha statues that over time came to replace them, and scenes from the Indian epic the Ramayana can be seen depicted in  relief alongside moments from the lives of the Cambodian kings.

The North Gate, Angkor Thom

For my money, even more spectacular than Angkor Wat is the nearby walled city of Angkor Thom. The six metre high walls have four gates, each presided over by a stern-looking stone head which represents, apparently, the Buddha of Compassion, Avalokiteshvara. At the centre of the palace is the Bayon Temple, a stunning, fragile pile of stones that looks like it might collapse at any moment. Nearby is the Terrace of Elephants which was used for military parades and audiences with the king. Carved elephants, Khmer lions and dancing nymphs watched over us as we clambered up its steps to marvel at its scale and grandeur.

The next couple of days were spent in some pretty hardcore temple-spotting, first by bicycle then, when we had to venture farther afield, by tuk-tuk. Highlights included the overgrown Ta Prohm, where huge tree roots threatened to push over 900-year-old walls, the sprawling Preah Khan complex and the  9th Century Shaivite masterpiece Bakong where, for the first time, the Angkor architects used the tiered pyramidical structure which they’d later perfect at Angkor Wat.

The temples are Cambodia’s biggest tourist attraction, and as such they attract an array of hard-working and eager hawkers, selling everything from flutes to slices of pineapple. As we cycled around, it was quite odd sometimes to hear their shouts following us: “Sir! Cold water, sir!”; “Lady! You want pineapple? Laaaadieeeeeee!”.

There are lots of children working at Angkor too, some of them very young. As we wandered around the temples they clambered after us, carrying postcards, cold water and bracelets. When we told them where we were from, they were able to reel off a series of facts about the UK: “The Prime Minister Gordon Brown, the capital London, the population 60 million”. It’s very hard telling a five-year-old that no, you don’t want to buy anything, but after a while you have to find a nice, gentle way of doing it.

From Siem Reap, we took a boat to Battambang, near the border with Thailand. Battambang is Cambodia’s second city but, from the quiet roads and the unlit streets, you wouldn’t guess it. Maybe it’s something to do with its position on the banks of the sludgy, slow-moving Stung Sangkel River, but the pace of life here seems decidedly slow, in a way that makes it a pleasant place to visit for a day or two.

Meeting the monks. Battambang area.

We took a tuk-tuk along some bumpy backroads to Phnom Sampeau, a hill 18 kilometres from town. On the way we stopped at a pagoda where poor children are looked after by monks for part of the year. They don’t seem to get many visitors: the children followed us around with some interest calling out “hello, hello!”.

Kids at the pagoda. Battambang area.

Phnom Sampeau itself is a long hill which dominates the flat countryside around. It used to be a place where people came to enjoy the cool breeze at the top and to have a leisurely picnic. There’s a cave just below the summit called Theatre Cave which, before civil war broke out in 1970, was used for traditional Khmer theatre performances. Now Theatre Cave is known as ‘the Killing Cave’. Under the Khmer Rouge, prisoners were brought here and thrown to their deaths from an opening high in the rocky roof.

Today in the Killing Cave there’s a shrine to the victims. Bones that have not been identified lie interned in a glass cabinet. Nearby is a huge reclining Buddha statue, and incense burning in a holder.

Climbing back into the fresh air, we reached the summit of the hill, where a stately pagoda looks out across miles of fields. Just below is a huge golden Buddha, erected on the spot where the Crown Prince once prayed for rain during a drought. The rain came and up went the statue in gratitude. Cheeky monkeys try to snatch food from visitors and are chased away by playful young monks, and it’s easy to forget that this place was once the site of so much horror. Once more I was struck by how steadfastly cheerful the Cambodians seem to be and how determined to make the best of the future.

I can't believe it's not Buddha. It is! Phnom Sampeau.