The Sounds of....Silence?

We’re at the Beng Melea

temple around 60km east of Siem Reap in Cambodia.

We’re hoping for less people here than at Angkor Wat but the sounds of cicadas quickly mix with the loud voices of tourists from a certain country.

Nothing can be said quietly. It has to be yelled across the temple complex. Never-ending selfies are taken while the ancient engravings

on the walls and the mystical trees growing between the stonesare ignored.

Blood-curdling screeching and laughter at the top of their voices. Guides screeching at their tour group.

It would be a magic place without all this noise pollution.

When a couple of tourists start climbing on the piled -up stones we have climbed to along rickety timber steps an Argentinian tourist can’t take any more.

“You have no respect, no respect. You are animals.”

We nod in agreement.

We have seen the future … of Cambodian tourism. Hordes of tourists arrive in buses, take photos of themselves then leave.

An elderly French couple wander through complete in safari outfits, grey long-sleeved shirts and long pants and boots. Where are their pith helmets? I know I too look a sight in shorts and sandshoes, but temple tourism requires practical clothing.

I too am a tourist but I don’t wear crazy, mix-matched multi-coloured outfits and carry a pastel umbrella today. (At least my colours match!)

Later the reds of rambutans are reflected in the clothes worn by the market sellers, who smile and laugh as I take their photos.

At sunset we take a tuk tuk to the Terrace of the Leper King at Angkor Wat, attempting to find a quiet place to do our readings of the day. (I’m on one of Jan Cornall’s writing retreats.)

A throng of kids guided by two monks comes swarming around a corner through a stone gate. They chatter to us, saying hello and good luck. The older monk, one-legged and walking with the aid of a stick, smiles warmly at us.

It’s a totally different experience to end the day of temple wanderings.