Angkor for Cambodians

One of the most satisfying things about revisiting Angkor during Khmer New Year was to see Cambodians claiming and enjoying their heritage. Entry into the sites is free for Cambodian citizens (whereas it sets a barang back twenty bucks), but that is not always enough to prevent such world-class tourist sites becoming the sole preserve for foreigners. I do not remember seeing hoards of Jordanians in Petra or Syrians in Palmyra.

Yet to arrive in the early evening at Angkor Wat, or to climb to the top of Phnom Bakheng in time for the sunset over the Western Baray, is to enter an utterly Cambodian scene. The tourists are there of course. But the roads out to Angkor Thom become clogged with motos carrying entire families and trucks doubling as busses ferrying the locals of Siem Reap to the meadow in front of the Elephant Terrace for an evening picnic with their Khmer ancestors from the Angkorian Empire. Just like at Bakong, the ruins are reclaimed from the mad dog tourists that inhabit them during the noon-day heat, and become the backdrop for the simple pleasure of sitting on the grass in the cool of the evening to eat supper with family and friends.

The downside is the litter. Cambodians may love their Angkorian heritage, and respect the spirits of their ancestors that built these impressive structures at a time when most of Europe still built from mud and straw, but they have yet to sanctify that respect by taking their rubbish home with them. Once the invasion recedes, the reflection of the towers of Angkor in the moat is peppered with floating PPT bottles and a confetti of shredded plastic bags covers the lawns.

Still, better that Cambodians do it to themselves than foreign tourists, so I carried my plastic bottles around with me all day until I finally found a litter bin in the late afternoon in which to offload them.

More serious destruction of the temples is a different order of problem. After my trip to Koh Ker, I am inspired to make the more arduous trip into the jungles to visit the ruins of Preah Khan. But I know that these ruins, once every bit as sumptuous as those of Angkor, if not as extensive, have suffered terribly in the hands of bounty-hunters armed with pneumatic drills.

Yet, given that Cambodia is one of the poorest nations in the world, how can Cambodians be convinced that their marvellous heritage deserves protection - from vandals and from litter-bugs alike - when other priorities are pressing? The long-term vision of those that founded the National Trust in England at a time when heritage was unfashionable is needed urgently in Cambodia.

Ton told me that Cambodians often observe that the Japanese arrive in groups at Angkor, take their photo snaps, and leave in minutes, whereas the barang arrive alone, find a quiet spot, and sit for hours reading from history books. What significance the Cambodians attach to this behaviour is unclear. You can only have faith that the children playing hide and seek amongst the stones of Banteay Samrai will grow up to cherish their national treasures and ensure that their children can also play there freely.