Of the 70 plus major temples within Angkor Archaeological Park, and hundreds more smaller shrines, ceremonial buildings, and symbolic ruins scattered throughout the broader Angkor region, none is more enigmatic than Bayon Temple.
It stands at the center of Angkor Thom, the Khmer capital, as Khmer Empire’s only Buddhist state temple, and last temple constructed during the reign of King Jayavarman VII.
While hiking among the remaining 37 towers (originally 54) preserved throughout the temple’s 5.5 acres,
it becomes increasingly apparent that only the most talented artisans were chosen to sculpt Jayavarman’s likeness to resemble Buddha.
Or perhaps Buddha’s representation was intended to commemorate Jayavarman.
Either way, I found the serene and smiling faces profoundly impactful–creating an encouraging atmosphere to contemplate the spiritual energy infused in our surroundings,
and making us feel a part of something greater.
The enlightened expressions also served as a gentle reminder of the beauty unlocked from local sandstone and laterite stone–
inspiring us to embrace positivity and carry it with us beyond our stay.
Khmer sculptors have also created a remarkable tableau of battle history, religious mythology, and random scenes from everyday life recorded on gallery walls throughout the complex.
Aside from its historical significance and its testament to architectual genius, Bayon Temple continues to serve as a vibrant center of spiritual life. Local communities gather regularly to participate in rituals and ceremonies, reflecting their enduring faith and cultural heritage.
The presence of monks who play a vital role in guiding the spiritual practices of the community reinforces the temple’s significance beyond just a tourist attraction.
Their ongoing devotion helps preserve the temple’s sanctity, making it a living testament to the blend of history and contemporary spirituality in Cambodia.
Of all the temples in Cambodia—somewhere between 4,000 and 6,600, depending on the cultural authority—Ta Prohm, located within Angkor Archaeological Park, remains a must-see because of its striking temple remains and captivating narrative.
At the ruinous site of Ta Prohm,
I encountered an otherworldly standoff between human ingenuity and nature’s relentless advance. It’s not merely a structure; it’s a testament to history, where the surrounding jungle advances, progressively reclaiming the landscape.
Here, a vast root system appears to strangle the West Gopura–a vivid illustration of nature’s power interwoven with human craftsmanship.
Myth and stone intertwine, as a patina of multi-colored lichen cloaks the bas-relief stonework depicting meditating monks and temple guardians in serene poses.
The gigantic roots of the silk-cotton, gold apple, and strangler fig trees invade the ancient walls and terraces to create a visually stunning tableau.
The trees seemingly communicate with the stone, highlighting both the beauty and fragility of the monument’s existence.
Constructed during the late 12th and early 13th centuries in the local Bayon style—an intricately decorated form of Khmer architecture—Ta Prohm served as a monastery and university for Mahayana Buddhists, offering spiritual guidance and education in a time where knowledge was deeply intertwined with faith.
Following the fall of the Khmer Empire in the 15th century, the complex fell into neglect and was eventually abandoned, allowing the encroaching jungle to seize control, transforming the area into a site of haunting beauty.
Today, various restoration attempts have stabilized the environment, courtesy of the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI),
which has been collaborating on the temple’s restoration with Cambodia’s APSARA National Authority since 2003.
Restoration efforts to preserve the temple’s original structure include replacing damaged stones, supporting entries, and strengthening foundations to withstand natural elements like heavy rains.
While archaeologists and craftsmen work to protect the temple from potential damages, they are also aware that Ta Prohm’s‘condition of apparent neglect’contributes to its global reputation, as evidenced in the action film, Laura Croft: Tomb Raider.
This balance creates an enchanting duality: the remarkable presence of both human history and the natural world,
coexisting in a state of beautiful decay.
Ta Prohm stands as a poignant reminder of the passage of time, notwithstanding the scrollwork of a stegosaurus carving on a terrace wall that has confounded scholars for centuries.
Together with Angkor Wat, Ta Prohm represents an enduring symbol of the Khmer Empire’s remarkable cultural and architectural grandeur. The site is among Cambodia’s most visited destinations, preserved for tourists who come to witness and contemplate the relentless power of nature in its interplay with human achievement.
Siem Reap Province, located in northwestern Cambodia, possesses significant cultural, religious, and symbolic value, and is also renowned for its architectural, archaeological, and artistic importance. Furthermore, Siem Reap is home to Angkor Archaeological Park, the world’s largest religious monument complex and the cornerstone of Cambodia’s tourism sector.
Our O.A.T. group overlanded from Phnom Penh to Siem Reap with a stopover at the ancient Kampong Kdei Bridge, constructed in the 12th century during the reign of King Jayavarman VII.
The bridge is a testament to the engineers who designed the 87m river span with 21 corbelled arches of laterite, making it the longest structure of its kind in the world.
Nine-headed nagas–whose bodies form a continuous balustrade alongside the roadbed–welcome only pedestrians and cycles on the bridge because of weight restrictions.
While admiring the scenery, I paused a moment to consider that Leah and I were walking the same trail as the Chinese merchants who traded along the Maritime Silk Road nearly a millennium ago. Back then, it was a 2-day trek through the lowlands to reach Angkor Wat.
But not for us; we stepped out of our air-conditioned coach the following morning, well before the crowds, to cross a moat symbolizing the cosmic ocean in Hindu cosmology.
While getting our bearings, our guide Seong, a native of Siem Reap revealed Cambodia’s worst kept secret: by arriving at Angkor Wat’s Death Gopura (East Gate), we were avoiding the popular western gateway with five times the tourists.
The cloud cover flattened the morning light on our approach down the expansive causeway. It was the best time for photographing Angkor. Eventually, we reached a break in the trees, perfectly framing the famed lotus tower of this Khmer masterpiece. It was reminiscent of the thrill I felt after emerging from the slot canyon in Jordan and peeking at Petra for the first time at first light.
Much has been written about Angkor Wat:
About its monumental size,
spanning 402 acres,
or 4 times the size of Vatican City;
It’s intricate bas-relief carvings throughout the temples and galleries;
Its historical significance, showcasing Khmer mythology and history etched into laterite stone;
Churning of the Sea of Milk
Heaven and Hell
Military Parade of Kink Suryavarman II
Its religious significance–originally constructed in the 12th century as a Hindu temple dedicated to Vishnu but converted to a Theravadin Buddhist temple during the 15tth century to reflect the shift in Cambodia’s spiritual landscape;
Hindu GoddessBuddha seated on Mucilinda, King of the Serpents
And its architectural accomplishment–a profound reflection of Hindu cosmology, particularly the concept of Mount Meru, regarded as the mythical abode of the deities. The central tower of Angkor Wat epitomizes the summit of Mount Meru, while the adjacent smaller towers signify the mountain’s subordinate peaks. The moat and the rectangular outer wall delineate the oceans and the boundaries of the world, respectively.
Restoration and maintenance have become routine endeavors in Angkor, which fell into neglect following the capital’s relocation to Phnom Penh in 1434. The site garnered renewed attention after being rediscovered by French naturalist Henri Mouhot in 1858.
An international task force supported by Japan, India, France, South Korea, and other contributing nations have collaborated with APSARA National Authority, the Cambodian government agency responsible for Angkor’s ongoing preservation and management, to address the extensive neglect and restore the temple to World Heritage status.
Ceiling before repairCeiling after repair
Recently, new risers have been completed by the Korea Heritage Agency…
giving access to the Bakan (central sanctuary),
which supports the amazing quincunx of towers,
offering amazing views,
and providing sanctuary for a rare wooden Buddha sculpture whose head remains intact,
unlike most of the other Buddhas who fell victim to so many marauders over the centuries.
But amidst the vastness and splendor surrounding us, it was the people donning their Sunday best who truly captured my attention with their warmth and spirit.
often posing by the Reflecting Pool for the quintessential photograph, or so I thought.
Unfortunately, the wind kicked up, causing the pool to ripple ever so slightly and affect my mirrored imagery.
However, by returning the following day for a sunset farewell to Angkor, I believe I captured the iconic shot that characterizes Cambodia’s cultural landscape.
The experience not only fulfilled a bucket-listed destination but deepened my appreciation for the rich heritage of Cambodia, reminding me that some locations leave an indelible mark on our souls.
We were only 50 miles into a 200-mile road trip when our driver pulled up to a roadside shack on Natl Hwy 6 in Skón. It was our first potty break on the way to Siem Reap from Phnom Penh, but Seong, our guide had a different motive for stopping. We were standing on the edge of the jungle in Kampong Thom province to meet the “Spider Woman” of the town locals refer to as “Spiderville.”
She and her young daughter manage a thriving tourist trade of hunting and preparing Thai zebra leg tarantulas for snacking.
Historically, eating bugs, or entomophagy is nothing new for Cambodians. The practice is embedded in Cambodian culture, as shamans believe in its healing powers for heart, lung and throat ailments, as well as its potent aphrodisiac properties.
All the same, I can’t imagine why anyone would ever consider eating a tarantula, but during the Khmer Rouge regime from 1975-1979, eating eight-legged creatures became the new normal, thanks to the great food scarcity. Estimates from The U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum suggest between 500,000 and 1.5 million Cambodians perished from Khmer Rouge–induced famine, causing a desperate populace to hunt for anything that wriggled or crawled as dinner.
Decidedly, Cambodia’s appetite for tarantulas has evolved from the venomous (Pol) Pot stirrer on the countryside menu, to where it has become culinary currency. A skilled spider hunter/vendor can unearth up to 200 of these creatures (known locally as A-ping) in a couple of hours and fry them up for $1 each, reaping big profits.
All it takes is a small shovel, a stick, and locating their hidden, silk-laden lair–
something Spider Woman knows all too well.
Once captured, A-ping was defanged to protect us from its venom, making it safer to handle without being bitten.
Without hesitation, they were very curious to explore new territory as they “tiptoed” across my arm on their hairy legs, dragging their velvety abdomens. It was truly a weird sensation.
As for tasting A-ping, the recipe is simple and straightforward. Saute chopped garlic and grated ginger in a wok of hot palm oil until golden. Add a dozen tarantulas and coat evenly with oil until their bellies explode into a yokey paste.
Season with salt and pepper to taste and blot the excess oil on a paper towel before enjoying.
Not everyone in our group was hungry for arachnids, although there were a few intrepid souls. The faint-hearted mused that it would spoil their lunch, while Leah was sick at just the thought of putting it in her mouth. But before anyone of us would commit, we demanded a demonstration. Our guide was eager to oblige, touting it as a valuable source of protein, folic acid, zinc, and iron.
“What does it taste like?” we asked. But Seong was silent on the matter. He was too busy chewing. While I’ve “enjoyed” crickets in Sumatra, and mopane worms in Zimbabwe, I’ve never experienced tarantula on any menu …
until now!
So, what does deep-fried tarantula taste like? It was crunchy on the outside, and gooey on the inside, not unlike soft-shelled crab–with a similar taste and texture. However, the large round, hairy abdomen–the source of all the spider organs–tastes a bit gamey.
While there currently seems to be an inexhaustible supply of tarantulas in Cambodia, systematic deforestation throughout the kingdom may be a nail in the coffin for this delicacy and could even lead to a decline in their numbers, say some experts. But for now, the demand for munching on A-ping continues to creep up.
Visiting the World Heritage city of Luang Prabang was an enlightening adventure, given its rich history, its cultural gems, and its natural wonders that draw travelers from around the globe. The vibrant blend of ancient temples and French colonial architecture creates a stunning backdrop for exploration, inviting visitors to wander through its charming streets. With so much to explore, from the serene banks of the Mekong River to the bustling local markets filled with handmade crafts, it’s little wonder why our three days went by so quickly, while only scratching the surface of so many not-to-be-missed activities.
We toured the ancient capital’s Royal Palace-turned-museum …
with its purpose-built shrine housing the golden Phra Bang (translates to “delicate Buddha”), created in Sri Lanka between the 1st and 9th century, and worshipped in Luang Prabang since 1359 as the nation’s most sacred symbol.
We trekked through Kuang Si Waterfall Park,
featuring a 165 ft drop …
feeding terraced plunge pools of milky green water,
and a rescue sanctuary for black Moon bears and Malayan Sun bears.
After a full day of sightseeing, many in our tour group sought respite at our hotel, the Muang Thong.
However, Leah and I enjoyed a 60-minute, aromatherapeutic couples massage for $34 at M.K. Wellness Centre only steps from our hotel,
followed by a stroll to a nearby hotel …
where an acre of tropical gardens is thoroughly hidden from the street,
protecting three UNESCO-classified lily ponds …
amid an oasis of orchids …
along a mahogany-clad boardwalk.
Lush flora surrounds the property and covers nearly every surface,
including the living walls.
It was the perfect location to share a special dinner with fellow OATers at the hotel’s on-site restaurant, Manda de Laos,
featuring traditional Lao flavors that had us grinning ear to ear,
and energized to continue our journey to Vientiane the following day.
Overseas Adventure Travel, a familiar name in international group tourism, has a recognized history of offering an array of immersive tours that not only prioritize cultural engagement but also emphasize sustainability while remaining affordable for travelers. Their unique approach allows adventurers to connect deeply with diverse populations and local traditions, fostering genuine interactions.
In alignment with this mission, their charitable partner, Grand Circle Foundation has made a profound commitment to uplift and support the communities they visit around the world. This includes providing essential services in areas such as education, access to clean water, and leadership training, ensuring that the benefits of tourism extend far beyond the travelers themselves.
Since 1992, O.A.T.’s active participation in conservation initiatives aimed at protecting natural ecosystems and preserving cultural traditions has created a positive and lasting impact in every location they’ve ventured into, thereby enriching visitors and communities alike.
We were about to experience this, first-hand.
Our Ancient Kingdom itinerary carved out a few days to explore the ancient capital and UNESCO World Heritage site of Luang Prabang and its ethnic surroundings.
Leah and I got our bearings during our group’s late-day orientation walk through the historic district, where we admired Wat Sensoukharam,
built in 1718 during the reign of King Kitsarath, and restored to its current state in 1957.
Also known as Wat Sen, the temple is believed to have been built using 100,000 stones from the Mekong River, giving the temple its name, roughly translating to Temple of 100,000 Treasures.
With the sun setting on the Mekong,
and commuter traffic saturating Sakkaline Street,
the sidewalk eateries busily prepped for dinnertime crowds.
Down the road, merchants appointed their stalls with purses, pottery and paintings before the weekend procession to the night market, where family and friends flocked for a social evening.
The following morning, we scrambled into jumbos,
and rode to the Royal Pier,
where we boarded a traditional wooden boat that transported us upriver to a nearby Buddhist temple on the western bank.
We roamed the modest temple grounds, surrounded by ramshackle monastery dorms,
and temple buildings that had long forsaken its gold leaf …
for peeling paint.
Just beyond the temple walls, a steady show of curious children received us,
acting as welcome ambassadors to Mouangkham Village,
an O.A.T.-supported community that was eager to share its hospitality.
The villagers have banded together to literally sustain themselves in a grass roots business by producing khai paen, a dried, river weed delicacy for wholesale food markets.
We observed a demonstration: from washing and rinsing,
to beating the weed into submission, until it’s been reduced to a fine green veneer of fiber.
It didn’t look overly complicated, requiring just enough finesse to master the battering. Only a scattering of thinly sliced tomatoes, shredded garlic and a sprinkle of sesame seeds was needed to complete the process.
My best effort was donated to the local economy.
As a cottage industry, it may not seem like much, but it’s enough to provide for toddler high-tech.
The following day, we boarded a bus to Mouang Khai Village for A Day in the Life experience among Lao, Khmu and Hmong people, who share humble homesteads,
but celebrate a rich cultural heritage, like playing the qeej (a reeded bamboo instrument) during a teenage courtship dance.
The village chief hosted a traditional Lao lunch, cooked by us with appropriate guidance…
but the highlight of the day was attending primary school with a dozen youngsters at their Grand Circle Foundation-funded, one-room schoolhouse, where we were exuberantly serenaded,
while the older children…
looked after the younger children.
After a special presentation to the village teacher of 15 years,
we were escorted back to our bus.
It was a special day-in-the-life.
By reaching out and connecting with communities around the world, we learn to appreciate firsthand, not only our diversity, but our commonality — and the understanding we gain can be life-changing.
Rivalry serves as a profound motivator, compelling individuals to elevate their performance. It fuels our ambition and stimulates our creative capacities. Additionally, it sharpens our concentration and tests our boundaries.
At its most constructive, rivalry fosters a form of competition that can lead to significant achievements.
For example, had it not been for Gutzom Borglum’s monumental conversion of Tunkasila Sakpe Paha into Mt. Rushmore(1927-1941), there might never have been a Crazy Horse Memorial located 16 miles from Borglum’s masterpiece.
Afterall, it was Korczak Ziolkowski, Borglum’s assistant at Mt. Rushmore who imagined the Lakota mountainside transformed into the world’s largest sculpture of a 19th century Sioux chief on a horse.
As a work-in-progress since 1948, the completed head of Crazy Horse stands at 60 feet, matching the measure of George Washington’s image.
Similarly, visionary architect Frank Lloyd Wright designed Taliesin as his estate-studio outside Spring Green, Wisconsin. Wright’s organic design followed his affinity for infusing natural elements into his habitats (Prairie Stylings).
Forty-eight years later, Alex Jordan–although not professionally trained as an architect–drew inspiration from Wright’s Taliesin, and began construction on his own homestead, the iconic and certainly eccentric House on a Rock–only 6 miles down the same road, on WI-23.
In the hills of Chiang Rai, Thailand a similar rivalry exists between teacher and student, with their competing visions of divinity and righteousness expressed through different, symbolic colors: Chalermchai Kositpipat’s gleaming, ornate White Temple…
versus Puttha Kabkaew’s psychedelic Blue Temple, which borrowed heavily from his mentor’s neo-traditional style of Buddhist art. And we got to explore both of them!
We departed Chiang Mai for Chaing Rai, first passing through Thaweesin Hot Springs, our timely rest stop, and Thailand’s highest elevation thermal waters–where we stretched our legs, soaked our feet,
and where a Happy Room attendant eagerly pointed us in the right direction.
After arriving at the White Temple (Wat Rong Khun), we were greeted by a Transformer,
who seemed to reflect the otherworldly characteristics of the temple grounds.
The details behind Chalermchai’s bid to rebuild the crumbling temple in the village of Rong Khun are legendary.
In 1997, Chalermchai committed to self-fund the project as an offering to Buddha after a national economic downturn threatened its reconstruction. He did so for love of country, love of Buddha, and his love for the King.
He cast the chapel, the Sukavadee Bridge, the crematorium, and other prayer halls in white as a symbol of purity and spiritual enlightenment.
The mirrored tiles represent Buddha’s wisdom, which shines across the mortal world and the universe.
Silver Bodhi trees in public squares and walkways hold the wishes of thousands of visitors who pray for guidance and enlightenment.
Other buildings have been designed in gold–deliberately chosen to represent attachment to material wealth, and worldly distractions. The ornate Happy Room building is one such preoccupation,
while the golden bridge, ironically carries visitors to the golden gallery and gift shop.
At the White Temple, nothing is truly as it seems. Even the monk who adorns the chapel alter has been cast in wax.
The striking artistry and rich cultural symbolism elevate the experience and compel introspection at every moment. Within the Ubosot—where photography is prohibited—captivating murals that blend contemporary references and historical motifs vividly portray the eternal struggle between good and evil. Colorful representations of political figures, Star Wars characters, and Disney icons convey a compelling truth: rebirth, karma, and the cosmic balance of the universe stand as the ultimate rewards.
Puttha Kabkaew’s philosophical and spiritual manifesto clearly aligns with his mentor’s, Chalermchai Kositpipat, and it’s on full display–less than 10 miles away–at the Blue Temple (Wat Rong Suea Ten).
The temple’s name translates to House of the Dancing Tiger as a testament to the wildlife that once roamed freely over temple grounds a century ago.
Puttha’s cerulean-blue facade symbolizes the importance of meditation and inner peace, while gold accents represent enlightenment and emphasize the architecture.
The temple’s interior features a large statue of a white porcelin Buddha…
surrounded by surreal, contemporary Buddhist art.
The Blue Temple is protected by fantastical, celestial creatures: like imposing Nagas,
fountain-loving Garudas.
and an Erawan.
Since 2016, the Guardian of Wat Rong Suea Ten has been intent on heralding the word of Buddhism…
But the road to enlightenment is a bit like trying to assemble IKEA furniture—it’s an eternal struggle! Buddhist imagery often showcases the bewildered faces of those in misery, serving as a nagging reminder of the struggles one must overcome to achieve enlightenment.
And one day, with the help of my fellow mortals, I hope to get there!
On January 3, 2025, Blanca Ojanguren Garcia, a 22-year-old Spanish tourist and law student, sustained a life-ending head injury after being shoved by an elephant during a bathing ritual at Koh Yao Elephant Care in Thailand. The mahout (keeper, trainer, companion) in charge of the elephant was charged with “negligence causing death.” Authorities suggested the elephant may have been stressed. (https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/c9wlzz9179do).
Ms. Garcia’s tragedy marked the first fatality of a new year that saw 39 deaths in 2024. In fact, last December 11, a 49-year-old Thai woman was killed by a wild elephant that charged her at Phu Kradueng National Park. (https://www.nationthailand.com/news/general/40044052). She was one of 240 victims of elephant violence over the past 12 years. Consequently, animal rights advocates have renewed efforts to re-examine the ethics behind elephant management in Thailand.
Leah and I were in Hanoi at the time when I first read the headlines, and it immediately carried me back 3 weeks earlier when we were bathing elephants at Elephant EcoVillage–a prearranged activity at an elephant spa selected by Overseas Adventure Travel (OAT)–and it was a glorious time.
We were totally unaware of any danger during our interaction. Our menagerie was docile and compliant.
Nevertheless, humans have a troublesome history with elephants…
The first evidence of elephant domestication was discovered along the Indus River Valley in 2000 BCE–at a time when as many as 20 million elephants roamed the forests of Africa and Asia.
By 700 BCE, Indian elephants were instruments of warfare and combat.
Two centuries later, elephants were dying for sport and entertainment in Roman amphitheaters.
After 1600, warrior elephants lost their advantage on the battlefield as the Gunpowder Revolution gave rise to new military weapons and tactics. Elephants transitioned to beasts of burden.
The 1800s saw the first elephants exploited in circuses.
In 1989, the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species (CITES) banned international trade on elephant ivory, citing poaching as the biggest threat to their very existence.
A 2024 census identified that elephant populations had dwindled to around 450,000 globally, of which only 10% were counted as Asian elephants.
As of 2020, Thailand has tracked 7,300 elephants within its borders,
with up to 3,500 wild elephants occupying 69 forested sanctuaries.
That leaves 3,800 captive elephants who rely on tourism to pay for their continuing support and welfare. Conservation organizations range anywhere from “observation-only” shelters…
to “rescue centers” that promote elephant riding as a VIP amenity.
Asian Captive Elephant Working Group (ACEWG), a group of regional elephant specialists, veterinarians, researchers, and conservationists acknowledge that:
Closing all elephant tourism venues is unrealistic if there are no alternative livelihoods for mahouts with elephants.
Suitable habitats for reintroducing elephants to the wild have been marginalized by a loss of forest from over-logging.
Elephants are intelligent and mobile animals with a highly developed social structure. Their complex needs require professional management and care protocols.
Elephants–captive or wild–pose a safety risk to humans and must be managed accordingly.
While there are no easy explanations surrounding Human-Elephant Conflict, our half-day experience at Elephant EcoValley was designed to: “…share the elephants’ history, their culture, their current environment, and their relationship with the human species—compassionately and scientifically. “
Ben, our guide, introduced us to Tata, a 40-year-old female, and her mahout for the past 12 years, who has tirelessly devoted himself to Tata’s daily care, as a parent would care for a child.
Leah and I became fast friends with Tata,
but so did everyone else in our group, as she obediently posed with each of us.
There was also an educational component to our visit. We spent some time in their museum loading up on facts and understanding about elephant evolution, anatomy, behavior and welfare.
After a satisfying lunch of regional specialties,
we focused our attention on the prodigious appetite and eating habits of these magnificent beasts who typically spend 16 to 18 hours a day foraging for an array of grass, plants, bushes, fruit, twigs, leaves, roots, and tree bark–each vital for providing a mix of essential minerals and nutrients.
But captive elephants don’t always get the nutrition they need that’s necessary for good health. They also require a multi-vitamin to supplement their daily nutritional intake, and it was our job to produce them from a variety of ingredients.
The recipe called for crushing salt and aloe vera together in a mortar. Then cooked rice, tamarind, and bananas were added to the stump. Finally, we combined moonseed, Lasia, sugarcane, sedge, schefflera, Bermuda grass, and fresh pineapple to the mix and mashed it all until gooey and sticky enough to form pills the size of baseballs.
At last, it was time to feed our new friends,
and they couldn’t get enough!
Depending on their size, an Asian elephant can consume up to 300 kilos per day (660 lbs.) or about 18% of their body weight. And that creates a lot of poo. Elephants can defecate between 10-20 times a day, producing 100-150 kilos (220-330 lbs.) of dung per day. But the people at Elephant EcoValley have an answer for that:
Much of the dung is collected every day;
washed to remove the debris;
sent through a thrasher to separate the fibers from the pulp;
and screened through the slurry…
until finally drying into a sheet of poo paper that doesn’t stink!
Our time at Elephant EcoVillage was a delight, and none of us ever felt threatened or considered that we were exploiting the elephants. On the contrary, these were pampered pachyderms.
It’s uncertain if authorities and activists can agree on balancing eco-tourism with elephant protection, but with education and resources, ethical and sustainable practices can be achieved to benefit both elephants and the community in the End.
In Thailand, you won’t hear anyone saying they need to use the bathroom. It’s not the WC, the loo, or the potty either. Nope, people are heading to the Happy Room, where the vibe can be a bit cheeky (all puns totally intended)!
By no means is this intended as a definitive and exhaustive chronicle of Happy Rooms we have witnessed, or in some cases, survived. It’s just that some Happy Rooms are more surprising/unusual/gross/etc. than others and are therefore more worthy of notice.
Some Happy Rooms are grand because the surroundings are grand.
Such is the case with the Grand Royal Palace–making for a more elevated experience.
Some Happy Rooms are thematic, such as the blue Happy Room of the Blue Temple, formally known as Wat Rong Suea Ten, or “Temple of the Dancing Tiger.” Planting trees between the urinals is an interesting touch. They give new meaning to pee pee trees.
For those looking for the ultimate bang for their buck, there’s the White Temple’s Happy Room, which assures all users a quintessential gilt trip.
Sometimes Happy Room directions can be explicit for good reasons,
while there are times when directions are self-explanatory.
Nearly all Happy Rooms with commodes have an external hose with sprayer attached to the flush mechanism of the toilet. Is it for use as a functioning bidet…
or is it for general cleanup when directions are ignored, and misses are inevitable? Because in Thailand, sometimes the availability of tissue squares can be a crap shoot!
Some Happy Rooms are whimsical; they come with voyeurs…
while others come with Peeking [sic] ducks.
Most times, all we need are the bare necessities…
because sometimes there are so many rules, that it makes more sense to sit like a lady, rather than standing on ceremony.
(Yes, the sign is from Hanoi, but it’s still worthy of consideration regardless of the location or the urge!)
After touching down at Chiang Mai International Airport, the stark contrast to Bangkok was immediately apparent. The air was cooler, humidity was dryer, and the AQI was no longer borderline, breathtaking.
We were at the gateway to the Thai highlands, in sight of Doi Suthep (elev. 5500 ft), and we were trading skylines for landscapes.
Exploring Chiang Mai’s heritage–rich with unique Lanna-style architecture, art, sculptures, handicrafts, and ancient temples–gave us the cultural opium we were all craving, with insightful opportunities to:
dive deeper into Buddhism (at Wat Phan On, inside the ancient city wall);
experience the folklore (of traditional Lanna Thai dancing);
admire the folk art (of a master carver from Baan Jang Nak);
appreciate the artisanship (of a reformed Karen Tribe villager);
savor the Lanna cuisine (of a traditional Khantoke dinner);
and relish the view (from atop an artisanal coffee farm).
Tour highlights while visiting Chiang Mai included a nature walk through Mae Kampong Village…
which culminated in a hike up Mae Kampong Waterfall’s flume gorge.
Our journey continued to the remote village of Ban Buak Khang, where master carver, Phet Wiriya combined his childhood passion for wood carving with his deep affection for elephants…
culminating in “Baan Jang Nak” (a house full of elephants), a renowned studio that offers Lanna wood carvers an outlet to hone their prodigious fabricating skills.
At Baan Nai Soi village, we visited a community of Burmese refugees known as Karen, whose tribe crossed miles of Burmese jungle into Mae Hong Son province during 1985 to avoid Myanmar’s political persecution.
Consequently, Thai authorities designated 3 relocation camps within the Highlands,
which over time and not without controversy have evolved into tourist destinations, where “longneck” women generate income by putting themselves on display–not unlike a “human zoo”–for a $10 admission ticket.
Mothers invite their girls at the age of 5 to begin the process by winding a brass coil across their shoulders, beginning with about 3 1/2 pounds of metal and adding inches until they’ve accrued more than 11 pounds.
Periodically, women will exchange the coil for a longer one, calling for more turns–ultimately reaching 22 pounds of down pressure. But longer necks are actually more of an illusion. The weight of the brass bears down on the clavicle, compressing the rib cage, and pulling up 3 to 4 thoracic vertebrae into the neck. While the neck itself is not lengthened, the appearance of a stretched neck is created by the deformation of the clavicle.
While beauty is indeed in the eye of the beholder, it’s essential to recognize the complex and competing narratives surrounding the beauty of longneck Karen women. Anthropologists have suggested that long necks may have served as a form of protection, perhaps making these women less appealing to other tribes and thus safeguarding them from a future of slavery. Conversely, it’s believed that the coils would embellish a Karenni’s beauty by highlighting the sex appeal of her elongated neck.
Another perspective is that these coils create a striking resemblance to dragons, a significant symbol in Kayan folklore, which adds a layer of cultural richness to their appearance. Additionally, the idea that the coils might offer protection against biting tigers–whether in a literal or symbolic sense–reflects a deep understanding of the challenges these women might face, blending beauty with resilience.
In another instance of culture shock, we visited Wat Chedi Luang, a 600-year-old cultural landmark located in the historic center of Chiang Mai, and once home to the venerated Emerald Buddha (subsequently, relocated to Wat Phra Kaew in Bangkok in 1551).
It’s also home to the Inthakhin city pillar–protected within a nearby shrine,
and accessible for most to view, but with a major caveat!
Women should take note: that Thailand’s guarantee of gender equality comes with red strings attached.
Photographing the entirety of the Reclining Buddha at Wat Pho is no small feat!
The soles of Buddha’s feet measure 3 meters high and 4.5 meters long. While Paul Simon was singing about “Diamonds on the Soles of her Shoes,” Buddha was “kickin’ it” with mother-of-pearl inlays. Each foot is distinguished by 108 panels featuring icons of flowers, dancers, white elephants, tigers, and altar symbols. A chakra (energy point) has been planted in the middle.
But back to Wat Pho for some historical perspective:
Wat Pho is a temple complex of 40 structures spanning 80,000 sq ft,
It’s rich history dates back to the reign of King Phetracha (1688–1703), who is credited for constructing the first temple of Wat Pho, prior to the collapse of the ancient city of Ayutthaya (1351-1767).
However, it’s King Rama I (1737-1809), who moved the capital city to Bangkok after Ayutthaya fell to the Burmese in 1767, thus assuring the revival and rehabilitation of Wat Pho, and its designation as Bangkok’s most important monastic enclave. His ashes are housed within Phra Ubosot–Wat Pho’s most sacred building–beneath the Buddha, also rescued from Ayutthaya.
Of the 95 chedis scattered throughout the complex, the four tallest rise 42m and contain the ashes of Rama’s 3 successors. Chinese guardians offer protection.
The first chedi to be built by Rama I holds the remnants of the once great Buddha recovered from Ayutthaya, after the Burmese stripped it of its gold. The story goes:
Additionally, 400 Buddha’s were salvaged from northern Thailand and aligned along the cloister walls.
and courtyards–
while 4 other groups of 5 chedis were erected for the ashes of royal family members.
Wat Pho has long been considered a great center for higher education. Phra Mondop contains the Buddhist library, and houses preserved palm leaves inscribed with Buddha’s teaching.
Wat Pho is regarded Thailand’s first public university, training students in religion, science, and literature through its many murals and sculptures. In fact, medical scholars during the reign of Rama III (1824-1851) introduced 60 inscribed plaques to adorn its pavilions–30 each for the front and back of the human form–illustrating therapeutic points and energy pathways used in traditional Thai massage.
Several gardens and ponds also populate the grounds…
making it ideal as a backdrop for posing.
But the star of the show is the Reclining Buddha–not because it reclines (which is a familiar representation of his penultimate hours on Earth before his ascension)
–but because of its stature.
The Reclining Buddha extends 46 meters and stands/reclines 15 meters tall.
The statue and its subsequent enclosure (Building 29) were commissioned by Rama III in 1832.
Buddha’s right arm supports a head embellished with hundreds of chedi tresses, which rests upon two box-pillows encrusted with multi-colored, glass mosaics.
We would have meditated on this marvel forever, until Marc, a fellow traveler on our journey sounded the gong…
signaling our time to move on to our next adventure!
Walking through Bangkok can be challenging. The traffic is relentless; the pedestrians can be pushy; and the “sidewalks” are compromised. But none of this should deter the intrepid tourist.
Our excursion began at the hotel’s spirit house (within the Thanon Phaya Thai district), where we paid our respects…
before continuing to Warehouse 30,
an art and design complex just east of the Chao Phraya riverfront,
where we found delightful exhibits and installations, intriguing antiques, and boutique apparel.
Nearby, we discovered Talat Noi–
a resurrected warehousing slum with meandering alleys filled with repurposed auto parts, shabby temples,
and wall art.
After another 15 minutes of sidestepping aggressive scooters along congested cobbled alleyways, we arrived at the Chinatown Gate, planted in the middle of an enormous traffic circle.
Chinese locals by the scores were making offerings at a local Buddhist Temple.
Chinatown Night Market was to our north,
but we were saving that for an evening stroll, when the street would close for Monday’s celebration of street food–filled with curious selections for adventurous eaters.
Our last stop included a visit to Wat Mangkon Kamalawat just before closing. It’s the largest and most significant Chinese Buddhist Temple in Bangkok. The temple is surrounded by shrines dedicated to a variety of Buddhist, Taoist and Confucian deities and religious figures worshipped by the local Chinese.
Worn out and wrung out, we took a taxi back to the hotel. We had walked nearly 10 km. in 90o heat. It was time to freshen up and consider a new adventure with an eye toward dinner.
No visit to Bangkok is complete without a tour of The Grand Palace, simply because it’s beyond comparison.
Consider the enormity and scale of the site.
Covering over 2.3 million sq ft, its walled, rectangular space has evolved over the course of 200 years…
into a myriad of ornamental buildings,
grand halls,
and gilded pavilions…
surrounded by manicured lawns,
lavish gardens,
and decorative courtyards.
Much more than a royal residence that has housed generations of the Chaki dynasty, it was also the seat of power and governance until the abolition of Thailand’s monarchy in 1932.
Currently, it’s Bangkok’s largest tourist attraction (8 million visitors a year),
although it continues as an important backdrop for ceremonies and state functions, with royal offices still intact.
The Grand Palace is also the site of the Royal Chapel–known as Wat Phra Kaew–
which houses the Emerald Buddha–a 26-inch jade statue cloaked in solid gold and diamonds–which is considered Thailand’s most sacred icon and key to its good fortune and prosperity.
Photography within Wat Phra Kaew is absolutely forbidden,
but then, a photograph exists online with attribution.
กสิณธร ราชโอรสt
Only the King of Thailand is permitted to touch the Emerald Buddha (three times a year in order to change its shroud according to the season).
However, Leah was able to pet the nose of the bronze guardian lion protecting the temple.
his private residence-turned-heritage museum, replete with a gallery, restaurant, and boutique–
all dedicated to Jim Thompson’s love of ancient Siam.
The compulsory spirit house surrounded by lush gardens–situated according to Feng Shui principles–informed us that we were protected from the steel and glass towers that enveloped us.
An English-speaking docent guided us through gardens and living quarters, which showcased archetypal Thai tapestries,
ancient wood carvings,
Buddhist watercolors…
and fanciful porcelain tea sets, among a dazzling array of other riches…
which inspired Thompson’s line of patterned silk fabrics used in clothing, furnishing, and accessories,
such that he single-handedly revolutionized Thailand’s handicraft industry during the 1950s and 1960s, earning him the moniker of the “Silk King of Thailand.”
His home has become an amalgam of Southeast Asian cultures…
and museum-worthy artifacts that he collected throughout the years,
sprinkled with practical flourishes, while serving as de facto US Ambassador to Thailand and founding the Thai silk company that still bears his name.
His status as a raconteur and entertainer of celebrities and royalty was legendary, but abruptly came to an end on Easter Sunday, March 1967. He had visited a friend’s house in the Cameron Highlands of central Malaysia, and took an afternoon walk through the jungle that day, never to be seen again.
Despite a land and air search effort involving hundreds of full-time trackers across multiple agencies and governments, it seems Jim Thompson disappeared without a trace.
There are many who have traveled down the rabbit hole of theories and conspiracies, determined to unravel the truth and possible whereabouts of his remains.
Yet the legacy Jim Thompson left behind continues to this day, and Thailand’s prosperous silk industry remains his greatest contribution.
With writing this sentence, my 6-month blogging hiatus is officially history.
All the while, I continued taking pictures, and I never stopped writing. I just got off the blogging merry-go-round for a time.
Instead, I took stock of nearly 25,000 images and analyzed 500 stories that I’ve shared with the WordPress community over the past eight years.
I soon realized after 3 years of blogging that I had already accomplished my mission of streaming through America!
That’s not to say that there’s nothing more to experience. But I can honestly say that since retiring, I’ve chronicled hundreds of visits to national and state parks and various landmarks and curiosities across the country, which amounts to the very best that America has to offer.
I’ve also begun to travel more internationally, and I’ve included many of those destinations in this blog. How could I not? Naturally, it wasn’t in an Airstream, and it wasn’t America. Although, in fairness, some of those destinations within Canada, Mexico, Central America, and South America should count as “American” by nature.
I also realized that many of the stories I wanted to tell were not always supported by the photographs I had taken. And often times, the photographs I was most pleased with didn’t always match the story I was writing.
I found myself making arbitrary rules that impeded my writing, like thinking that my posts should be a linear account of my travels rather than a reflection of an arbitrary moment in time.
Managing StreamingThruAmerica.com has been a blessing, albeit it’s been challenging yet exhausting; nourishing while enervating; fulfilling but frustrating, and rewarding yet fickle.
Nevertheless, it’s also garnered over 100,000 views–for which I received a silly badge from WordPress, which makes me smile;
and it’s earned an Editors’ Discovery pick soon after launching this blog.
I don’t know if all of that is worthy of celebration or not, but I’m certainly grateful for the recognition and all the support from the blogosphere.
What started as a personal journal of sorts and a means of checking in with family and friends has morphed beyond its original intent, and I’m okay with that.
I’ve toyed with refreshing the style and revising the content to fit the times (and maybe that may happen on a rainy day), but for now, it’s status quo.
The journey continues…in Bangkok–the first stop of a 5-week adventure to Southeast Asia–where ancient kingdoms still shine as bright as the Buddhas that adorn his temples.
Rather than go thru the details of how we got here, suffice to say that 2 days of inconvenient travel brought us to the Chilean Andes…
to experience the highest and driest desert on earth (averaging 13,000 ft. elevation), where temperatures can fluctuate between 0oC and 25oC, and rainfall averages 2 mm of rain per year with a humidity factor of .02%.
The area is so vast, it spans Chile, Peru, Argentina, and Bolivia.
But despite the hostile environment, flora and fauna still manages to survive.
Our first destination was the Soncor Sector of Los Flamencos National Preserve,
where a variety of native flamingos congregate to feed on brine shrimp that flourish in pools along the salt flats.
Although the park flamingos were unidentifiable from a distance,
it became easier to identify their individual characteristics the closer we got to them,
distinguishing the flock as Andean flamingos.
Our next destination was Valle de la Luna (Valley of the Moon), another sector of Los Flamencos–only 10 minutes from San Pedro, across a dusty road built for vehicles with dependable suspension.
The park was aptly named by Gustavo Le Paige, a Belgian missionary who pioneered much of the archeological research of San Pedro de Atacama in the 1950’s.
The sector captures the essence of the region’s vastness and aridity, so much so, that NASA tested its Mars rovers on the surface to simulate future planetary exploration.
Salt and sodium nitrate crystals are found throughout the Atacama Desert, as the dry air and lack of vegetation allows them to collect on the surface.
Although the region also contains precious metals including an abundance of copper, silver and gold, it was the large cache of potassium nitrate that brought the railroads and development to Atacama, turning the region into a hub for culture and commerce by the 2nd half of the nineteenth century.
Today, large reserves of precious metals such as lithium provide a significant source of revenue for private and state-owned mining companies.
In fact, as of January 14, Chile’s SQM, the world’s 2nd largest producer of lithium has suspended its operations in Atacama due to 500 protestors from indigenous communities in the Antofagasta region who’ve been blockading roads–immobilizing workers, supplies and lithium to and from the mines–demanding that they be included in negotiations between SQM and the Chilean government.
Let’s hope that this conflict can be resolved quickly, so we may continue to feed our global appetite for electric vehicles.
Like many ancient civilizations, Egyptians were obsessed with religion and mythology. They pledged their love and devotion to more than 700 distinct deities entrusted to protect the natural order of all things (wind, water, sun, sky, etc.) from creation to afterlife. In exchange, the devout would be rewarded with an everlasting life of prosperity, good fortune, and happiness… once they reached their final destination–the Underworld.
Gods and goddesses were personified as powerful creatures,
and hybridized animals,
and amalgams of animals and humans.
Egyptian paganism lasted long into the 5th century. However, with Egypt situated at the intersection of Europe, North Africa, and the Middle East, Egypt was also at the crossroads of influence when monotheism gained a foothold in the Middle East and spread throughout the continents.
When synchronizing Egyptian chronology and Old Testament timelines, the earliest record of monotheistic worship in Ancient Egypt occurred during a time of remarkable prosperity when Joseph–in his role as Grand Vizier of Egypt–governed and fed its people, while surrounding neighbors faced famine and hardship.
This informed Jacob’s decision to relocate his clan from Canaan to Egypt in search of provisions and an unforeseen reunion with his son. Biblical scholars have speculated the date to be 1875 BC.
This led to the eventual settlement of the Israelites, whose numbers may have grown to 2,000,000 over the next 430 years, until the storied Exodus–which would have occurred in Year 18 of Thutmose III’s reign–in 1446 BC.
Interestingly, Amenemhat, Thutmose III’s first-born and heir apparent, mysteriously predeceased his father, and was inscribed on a column at the Temple of Amun at Karnak shortly after the death of Hatshepsut and the subsequent accession of his father to Pharaoh.
Religious reform from polytheism to pagan monotheism was momentarily embraced by Amenhotep IV during the his reign (c. 1358–1341 BC).
For some unknown reason, he changed his name to Akhenaten and elevated the cult of Aten (the sun disc) as the one and only true God.
Akhenaten went so far as to scrub all references of Amun-Ra from Karnak and build a new worship center and capital in Amarna, 170 km south of Thebes. But Atenism was short-lived; it never survived Akhenaten death, as he was so reviled by the priests that critics would often refer to Akhenaten as the Heretic King.
Subsequently, Tutankhamen–upon his ascension to the throne–reverted to worshipping Amun-Ra with his wife/half-sister, Ankhesenamun. He was 8 and she was 13 when they wed, albeit she was previously married to her father for a short time.
They had two daughters together; both were stillborn. Tut died suddenly at 18 from a fall or malaria or both, leaving Ankhe without an heir. She remarried Ay (presumedly her maternal grandfather), the next pharaoh, and soon disappeared from history.
Polytheism remained the cultural norm for the following 1,400 years, until Egypt bore witness to the seeds of a new cultural revolution when the Holy Family escaped the wrath of Herod the Great’s infanticide decree c. 7 BC, and sought refuge in Egypt for the next three-and-a-half years.
Their journey through the Sinai dessert and across the Nile to Heliopolis…
brought them to the Roman fort of Babylon in Old Cairo,
where they found shelter in a cave for the next three months,
which would later become the foundation for the Church of Martyrs Sergius and Bacchus in The Cave (aka Abu Serga) built in the 4th century,
and the site of a water well which nourished Joseph, Mary and baby Jesus during their stay.
Other distinguishing features of the church include: the wall of painted icons;
and the precious relics of Saints Sergius and Baccus.
Worship of pagan deities began to wane around the late 4th and early 5th Centuries as Christianity became popular, and was finally outlawed in the 6th Century by Christian Roman Emperors. Consequently, Old Cairo became an important center of Christianity in the world, with Monasticism begetting Coptic Christianity, and extending throughout the Arab tribes.
With Coptic Christianity taking root, church worship proliferated in Byzantine Egypt, as did the number of churches in Old Cairo.
As Leah and I walked through Old Cairo, we were transported through history.
We took time to explore the Church of the Virgin (aka Hanging Church), which dates to the 3rd century.
Egypt was conquered by the Rashidun Caliphate in 646 AD, ending 7 centuries of Roman rule, but Christianity survived the war. The Arab invaders carried the Quran with them, and slowly converted the Copt population to Islam. By the end of the 12th century–which coincided with the end of the Crusades–the Christians lost their majority status thanks to intermittent persecution, destruction of Christian churches, and forced conversions by the Muslim brigade.
Today, Coptic Christianity accounts for 10% of Egypt’s population. And while they are mindful of their slim minority and occasional, bigoted backlash, the Copts are not shy about their zeal.
Nubian Coptic Church, Esna
The survival of Judaism in Egypt has been less fortunate. Only 100 Jews remain in Egypt, mostly concentrated in Alexandria. To date, only three Jews live in Cairo, and all are women. The youngest of the bunch is Magda Haroun, age 70, and the elected representative of Cairo’s Jewish community.
Ben Ezra Synagogue, 9th century AD
But Magda is living proof that all three religions can co-exist under the same roof. After all, her ex-husband is Muslim, as are their two daughters, and her current husband is Catholic.
Getting to know the people of Egypt is equally as magical as the ancient architecture and history. Wandering around the Nubian neighborhoods was a great way to observe the locals at work and at play. What follows is a portrait gallery of faces in their familiar places:
This man is paid to remove wrinkles. His cheeks are filled with water, which he sprays across a bolt of cotton fabric. Now he’s ready to run his foot across it with a scorching hot iron.
Finished products are then delivered to the fabric merchants, who specialize in either female or male colors.
The town tailor likely receives an order to design a proper galabeya…
or a pile of pillows and textile merchandise.
For pillows and mattresses that flatten or sag over time, it’s time to visit the wool fluffer, who will beat the filling until it’s been rejuvenated.
Busy mornings are usually followed by a bite to eat.
some shopping…
or a smoke.
It’s safe to say that locals feel more secure, when they’re protected by the guard on patrol,
or washed by the man who prepares your body for burial.
The school bus may not be yellow,
but it gets the kids to school on time…
where they are very receptive to strangers with cameras,
which is more than I can say when the tables are turned.
Tonight was cultural arts night aboard the Viking Ra, and all hands were decked out in their finest Egyptianized evening wear, in celebration of our host country.
It provided the perfect opportunity for women to shimmy in their cotton camel PJ pants, embroidered tunics, and spangled belly dance costumes,
while a few men rocked the casbah in their galabeyas (long shirts) and keffiyehs (square-shaped, cotton scarves).
Personally, my taste borders on Tommy Bahama does Margaritaville at REI, with little to no resemblance of anything Middle Eastern-related, so I reimagined a hand towel as a Nemes (royal headdress), and called it a night. Leah chose to ignore the fashion directive.
It was also a time for traditional Egyptian cuisine–served family style–followed by an hour of Sufi-themed music and dance.
With the riverboat tied up in Esna for the night, Viking passengers benefited from a wealth of local talent who came aboard to showcase their cultural arts–steeped in a medieval tradition of Islamic spiritualism that deals with purification of the inner self through a deep devotion and physical experience of God.
As enchanting as it was hypnotic, a member of the troupe performed the tanoura (Arabic for ‘skirt’), a trance dance not unlike the Turkish Whirling Dervishes, but with an Egyptian “spin.” Its origin dates to 13th century Egypt, when whirling in place became a means to reaching karma. The dancer spins anti-clockwise–which symbolizes Muslim pilgrimage around the Kaaba, while also preventing dizziness.
Our dancer wore a multi-layered tanoura of many colors (collectively weighing over 50 lbs.), as he performed his meditative ritual for over 15 minutes, dancing with trays, and scarves. Unbelievable!
Then the ship lights dimmed, and the tanoura turned psychedelic!
After 3 days in Cairo, Leah and I were on the move!
We boarded a chartered prop jet with our fellow river cruisers and flew to Luxor,
to greet the Viking Ra–currently tied up alongside the Nile’s east bank. Ra was to be our floating hotel through the following week.
After attending an obligatory safety briefing aboard Ra,
we were soon exploring Luxor and it’s ancient counterpart, Thebes–home to kings and queens from the Middle Kingdom (c. 2000–1700 BC) through the Ptolemaic Kingdom (305–30 BC)–spanning 15 centuries of rule, until Egypt surrendered to the Romans.
Our tour of Luxor began with a visit to the Karnak Temple Complex, encompassing 247 acres, and considered the largest religious structure ever built.
Ram-headed sphinxes (called criosphinx) adorn both sides of the avenue leading to the unfinished, first pylon to honor Amun-Ra, Egypt’s most powerful god and Thebe’s patron deity of the Great Temple of Karnak.
The criosphinxes continue inside the Ethiopian Courtyard (IX Dynasty)–each one cradling an erect statue of Ramses II (c. 1279-1213 BC) between its forelegs.
It flanks the entrance to the temple of Ramses III.
The most impressive feature of the temple of Amun-Ra is the Great Hypostyle Hall, a forest of 134 sandstone columns centered by 12 colossal columns soaring 69 feet,
which supports the remains of a stone roof enclosed by massive walls,
and features intricately carved relief sculptures and hieroglyphs of religious and historical significance…
to honor each of the 30 kings who once ruled the imperial city.
After 3300 years, the site remains substantially intact, yet benefits from painstaking restoration.
After listening to commentary from our onboard Egyptologist, Leah and I strolled the grounds of the ancient temple trying to imagine the enormity of its scope:
while realizing that 3 other sections–the Precinct of Mut, the Precinct of Montu, and the Temple of Amenhotep IV–are also part of Karnak, and still under excavation and reconstruction.
Streaming thru America 