Amok and Apsaras

We awoke this morning to our last full day in Cambodia. Finding ourselves in a similar position to leaving Vietnam - namely, how best to say farewell to an entire country - we decided against any showy last-minute displays. We didn't do one last circuit of the Angkor temples, nor did we go ziplining at the Flight of the Gibbon adventure park.

After a fruit-based breakfast, we packed up our things and went out for the day.

We joined our neighbour at Blossom Café for a coffee and a delectable mini-cupcake. We were greeted by staff in festive red hats, a large white Christmas tree, and jingly songs playing. Coming in from the 30-degree heat, where no trace of advent could be found, to a tinsel-strewn winter wonderland was a bizarre and discomfiting experience. At home, I enjoy the preparations for the holiday season and string out the sherry and mince pies as much as possible. However, the 25th December has been far from my mind and for it now to be brought to my attention caused me to imagine how we will spend it in Thailand. Will we approximate a Christmas dinner from the Thai ingredients available? Will we play Christmas tunes?

Our neighbour met a friend for lunch, so we switched venues for one offering more savoury fare. This was fortuitously timed, as some persistent rain rolled in as we arrived.

My Little Café has a small selection of reasonably priced vegetarian dishes, including the ubiquitous amok (tofu) and lok lak (also tofu). K selected the latter, which was by far the better choice, as the former was crammed full of onions and lacked the subtle flavour of any version of the dish I have thus far tasted. A side of morning glory did not disappoint, however, and we whiled away the time under a sagging canvas awning until the heavy shower gave way to a bright blue sky. Just in time for...

We gatecrashed Children's Day - an event organised as part of the Angkor Photo Festival that included a demonstration of Phare circus skills outside the luxurious-looking Shinta Mani Resort.

This was primarily aimed at entertaining and inspiring young Cambodians, and so the troupe hammed up the clowning and slapstick, but the acrobatics were no less awe-inspiring for it.

Showing that they don't need a big top to perform, they rolled out a rug in the middle of a closed-off road and turned somersaults, cartwheels, backflips and impressive feats of flexibility.

From there, we slid by the Peace Café before presenting ourselves at the equally plush Angkor Village Resort for an evening of Apsara dance theatre.

Dinner came as part of the package and we were lined along long low tables - a Japanese design with a sunken floor to make space for the diners' legs, known as horigotatsu. On a tray, we were served delicious freshly fried spring rolls and samosa (crunchy), a green papaya salad (can't go wrong), a small salsa, fried tofu and beansprouts, and a green coconut curry, the last of which disappointingly lacked any distinguishing flavour.

The dancing, however, did not disappoint. Apsara are creatures - half woman, half goddess - that emerged from the churning of the sea of milk in the Hindu fable. The carvings show ethereal dancers with elaborate costume, their hands and feet posed in unnatural but symbolic positions. The physical versions of these nymphs also have the uncanny ability to bend back their fingers and toes as depicted on countless sandstone temple walls. Were they born this way, or does it take years-long training - as for the circus performers - to reach such a degree of suppleness and flexibility?

The female apsaras, sporting fantastic headdresses, dance a slow, rhythmic, and circular set of steps using hypnotic and precise hand gestures. While beautiful, the symbolism eluded us. The accompanying description is available only in French and is written using the past historic - the tense I largely ignored in my studies, assuming it to be outmoded and used only in stuffy broadsheets. I translated the description for K and a couple from Boston sat next to us (although I'm sure the silent gentleman sat beside me was in fact French and inwardly decrying my brutalisation of his language). The translation was not hugely elucidating and so we satisfied ourselves with watching the mesmerising display.

Aside from the apsara dancing, we were treated to a selection of other performances: young fishermen court the shy girls of the village; the two faces of Mekhala (god of water) battle until wet seasons triumphs dry, bringing beneficent rains; the clacking of coconut shell halves shows the peaceable harmony of Cambodian village life. Finally an extract was shown from the Ramayana epic in which Rama, in search of his love, Sita, who has been captured by the evil Ravana, sets out with his brother Lakshmana to recover her. Accompanying them is Hanuman and his band of monkeys, who battle Ravana and the demons, returning Sita to safety. While familiar with the story, which permeates much of SE Asian culture where Hindu influences are prevalent, the theatre was slightly confusing, possibly owing to the time-honoured tradition of gender reversal between the cast and their characters.