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How to Preah Vihear

the border between Thailand and Cambodia armies of two states are fighting for a piece of land, around a Khmer temple. We are not far from the immense temple complex of Angkor. Visit to one of them, Bakong, similar to that contended (December 2009).

is located a bit 'set apart from all'Angkor all'Angkor Wat and Thom, east of the city of Siem Reap, Cambodia: Bakong is the oldest "temple mountain" of the entire Angkor complex, given the ninth century, when he ascended the throne Indravarman I. It is therefore a Hindu temple was originally dedicated to Shiva, which he wrote that the Lingam was deported on the spot in 881. I'm half past eight in the morning but is already a heat almost unbearable. It enters into a settlement for several kilometers along a frayed red dust and stone. The stilts, typical houses in the region, already at this time seem to cherish the rest of the people who do not know what to do. At the end of the road, is a votive relief, the so-called temple-mountain in five towers, along the lines dell'Angkor Wat itself. A rhythmic music but light, almost a dirge of bells and pieces of wood struck, come to my ears while walking through the bridge leading to the temple, which once certainly spanned a wide moat that surrounded the entire site. A young

monaco dress saffron forward, looks at me, smiles at me, play with my my physical appearance and clothing. It seems more interested in my pace my camera equipment. Thank goodness. I climb the five steps of the pyramid, I try to understand why the elephants at the head of each terrace qausi remained intact, while the rest of the temple seems to have suffered irreparable damage of time. The Monaco I explained the mystery: the stone is different, coming from far away, from the mountains thai, the then Khmer. I went down, I follow the river from the top of the music becomes more precise, more marked, more human. And I find myself at the foot of the pyramid, in a tent where he is carrying a Buddhist ceremony, which brings together over three hundred monks, a nun in white, shaved, moving in their white tunics and wrinkled. We leave the picture. One of them approached me, took my hand with his, old and lean. Takes me to a kind of human lump, which I understand to be a dozen women busy to cook something, the smell is inviting. It takes a barbecue skewer and a hands it to me as if I wanted to feed to attain nirvana. The meat is nice, sweet and spicy. Snake.