The Mekong Delta is an interesting site of cross-culture between Cambodia and Vietnam, as the region used to be Cambodian from the 9th-17th Centuries, hence there is a booming Khmer (ethnic Cambodian) population. The Mekong Delta was ripe with trading ports and canals as early as in the first century CE and extensive human settlement in the region may have gone back as far as the 4th century BCE. We were planning on only a couple of days in this beautiful region of unique river-culture but due to the one-week-visa-extension-wait (great success) we got to spend an entire glorious week here.
First was Soc Trang. I kid you not, this place couldn't be more gimmicky if it had neon glowing signs on fire with tigers jumping through and landing on running white elephants. But it's incredibly authentic and little visited by foreigners (we saw absolutely none, but a fair amount of Vietnamese tourists). We first went to the Khmer Museum, where we saw colorful electric Day-Glo intricate woodwork of model boats and friezes as well as ornate sequined clothes and flowering carved stone statues. We then got a bit more context in an actual Khmer temple, with radiant neon murals of the Buddha and elaborate carvings on every surface, not without appropriate use of negative space.
Gimmick number one: the Clay Pagoda! Very kitsch, absolutely chocko (that's Australian slang for "chock full") with an endless tableau of painted clay statues: from tiny dioramas of Bodhisatvas and monks to snaggle-toothed tigers, a giant white elephant, and hundreds of variously shaped and sized meditating Buddhas. Apparently this dude, Ngo Kim Tong, a devout monk who probably wouldn't like to be called a "dude," spent 42 years of his life making the ornate brightly painted clay sculptures. He even sculpted the pedestals, alters, columns, and incense urns; every surface was a work of art. We played with an adorable puppy out back, in the spirit of Buddhist compassion of course.
From there we caught xe oms (motorbike-taxis) to gimmick number two: an enigmatic temple of unimaginable mystery that will make your heart flutter like a thousand frantic wings. "Dusk! With a creepy, tingling sensation, you hear the fluttering of leathery wings! BATS! With glowing red eyes and glistening fangs, these unspeakable giant bugs...(sic)" Right: BATS! This temple is so known as "The Bat Temple," as the monks keep a fruit forest to feed the giant fruit-bats, flying foxes, keeping them safe from the neighboring farmers who would like to kill them for eating their food and also to make them their food.
At first we were sure we'd gone to the wrong place, as loud Vietnamese dance-pop music was blaring at top volume from an admittedly elegant temple (more Khmer Day-Glo murals). But the music subsided and in short order Sarah used her sonar to ping out the bats: they were hanging above us in the trees. They were big buggers and as the sun set they were increasingly restless, often bickering with each other as if to say, "Hit the snooze! Five more minutes!"
Then a local guy we'd been talking to ran up and led us to the temple, where four dozen Vietnamese were gathered around a chanting monk in nuclear orange robes as he flung water upon them with a big green tussle of leaves. "Cambodian New Year," our local amigo explained, "Water for cleansing." I quickly jumped into the crowd and promptly got soaked by the splashing of the monk as he chanted, pausing only an instant when first spotting my bright white face in the crowd.
When I returned dripping into the darkened night, I hugged Sarah tight, so as to soak her too, and got to witness the magnificent flight of scores of enormous bats. They screeched and soared back and forth amongst the fruit forest, over the pagoda, eclipsing the moon. 'Twas an incredible sight to see.
Also in Soc Trang: Sarah briefly had a pet snail named Slimey that she rescued from a restaurant's squirming tank.
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