Quit Yer Gawking

Guidebooks are full of advice about how to behave at Cambodia’s religious sites. You’re not supposed to wear a hat, you are supposed to dress modestly, not show your feet to the Buddha, oh, and a bunch of other things that are relatively easy to manage. I did forget to remove my cap in the palace, to my extreme shame, but I was happy to do so upon stern reminder from one of the guides. Hey, it was very hot and it was keeping the sun off my melon. Oops.

But for the life of me, I could not stop gawking at the monks. They paced about the palace compound in saffron colored robes, their shaved heads brown and bare. Every time I turned a corner, there would be a pair of them, or more, striking a pose against the golden walls of the palace. They smiled, they nodded, they floated away on a cloud and all I could do was stand there, slackjawed, eyes wide, gawking at their extreme beauty. It’s all fine and well to tell you that it’s not polite to stare, but when you’re dumbstruck with awe by saffron and gold and brown and late afternoon light, I ask you this: What the hell are you supposed to do? Look away? I don’t THINK so.

The ornate palace compound teaches the unenlightened that you can not have too many Buddhas about the place. Also, silver elephants, stupas, potted palms, lotus flowers, silver leaves, and oh, why not add a few extra Buddhas, sleeping ones, reclining ones, tall thin elegant ones, and one or two made from solid gold just for good measure? It helps if you tile the floor of your Buddha room in etched silver tiles that click underneath your bare feet as you pad about admiring the Buddhas. And the monks.

Did I mention that the monks are absolutely stunning? And that it doesn’t matter if you see four of them in a “tuk tuk” – a motor scooter pulling a four person trailer – or two of them on the back of a scooter driven by a third guy, or just one of them checking his email at an Internet cafe or sending text messages on his cell phone while standing in between the tall white columns of the royal hall. If there happens to be one at the departures terminal sending off his brother or two of them wandering down the street underneath butter colored umbrellas, well, you’re no less likely to gawk. If you’re me, that is. You probably have much better manners than I do.