Sketching Cambodia: On discovery and sharing in the wonder of Angkor Wat.

In the pre-dawn darkness of a still-cool Thursday morning, I push out into the streets of Siem Reap, alone.

The rusting yellow bicycle beneath me creaks with every spin of the pedals; in the basket attached to the handlebars, my bag jostles and jumps with every jagged dip in the road. My destination, situated some eight kilometers outside town, is none other than Angkor Wat.

I could have joined a tour, or, better yet, hired a tuk tuk – a fact I’m reminded of again and again as an endless stream of my favorite three-wheeled vehicles breezes past me. Instead, I wanted to work before arriving at one of the eighth wonders of the ancient world. In a way, I wanted to earn my visit.

But there was something else, too: behind my decision to bike to Angkor Wat was a desire to feel, for even just a few seconds, a sense of exploration; to try and channel the sublime sense of discovery French explorer Henri Mouhot must have felt in 1860, when he pushed through dense jungle overgrowth to find the largest religious monument in the world.

I know all such discoveries have been made by now – but I can’t help pretending sometimes there’s still ground out there to break.

As I near the ticket gate, beads of sweat beginning to settle on my skin, I revel in being the only bike on the road. Later, two turns before I’ll reach Angkor Wat, I pause by a moat-like river to soak up the explosion of dawn, a streak of red at the horizon as vivid as a cracked-open pomegranate, its jewel-like seeds spilling over onto the water.

And I soak it up all the more knowing that soon, I will catch up to all those tuk tuks – and to the crowds. I am hardly ever a fan of them, baseball games and dance parties being just about the only times I’ll welcome so much humanity gathered in one place. But as I arrive at Angkor Wat right in time for sunrise, I’m reminded of a third place I’m strangely okay with crowds: world wonders.

For some reason, the little part of me that yearns to traverse the globe alone switches off at the sight of such universal icons – and is actually okay with the bustle of jutting elbows and the craning of necks and all of us pointing our cameras in the same direction. I’m okay with it because we’re somewhere deserving of our wonder, and our very communal presence is a testament to it.

When I return at 10am to sketch the temple, the crowds have all but dissipated; burned away by the sun just like the early morning haze. Once again, I’m alone – but funnily enough, it’s the crowds I’m thinking of as I start sketching.

The elbow-jutting, neck-craning crowds – and what it meant to share in the wonder of Angkor Wat aglow at sunrise with them.