A Family Reunion Beneath Ancient Stone and Sweltering Sun

“To travel is to discover that everyone is wrong about other countries.”
— Aldous Huxley

The whole family arrived at the beginning of April 2024—a time we had hoped would be more relaxed, right after getting the position of Program Director at Kulen Outreach. Still, we carved out a detailed travel itinerary to make their two-week visit to Cambodia unforgettable. I was buzzing with excitement. Seeing them on this side of the world—so far from Belgium's cobbled streets and chilly winds—felt surreal.

They landed at Siem Reap International Airport just after 7 p.m. on the last evening of March. The air was thick with warmth and promise. We greeted them at their hotel right after they settled, just a short stroll from where Kiki and I were living at the time. That first night, we celebrated their arrival over a sizzling Khmer barbecue at a bustling local spot. The charcoal smoke rose into the balmy night air as we shared fried rice and stories, surrounded by chatter in Khmer and the occasional hum of motorbikes passing on the N6 road right next to us.

The next morning, the city slowly unveiled itself to them. We strolled through the Old Market, where fresh fruit, spices, and handcrafted silk scarves filled the stalls. We all tried on a couple of pants and shirts. The riverside shimmered under the early April sun. But with it being the final day of term at school—and the much-anticipated visit from the Lady Drummers—Kiki and I had to return to campus. My family continued exploring the city center without us for a while. They would join the festivities for the last day of the term with us and the students.

It was a big day. Our courtyard buzzed with rhythm and excitement as the all-female Khmer drumming band filled the school grounds with cultural energy. D. and I., along with our longtime supporters, the S. family, had also joined. Having all these worlds collide in one space was heartwarming and grounding.

The event was a huge success. All the kids were smiling and moving along with the rhythm of the music. After half an hour of music playing, we had the opportunity to make music ourselves as well, under the watchful eye of the artists, of course, and a careful explanation of Pheak. Games were played, and it was the perfect opportunity to show the school and talk to all our new visitors: my family, D., and I.

But the next day was wholly reserved for my family. The students had left for their mountain villages, and although our to-do list remained impossibly long, we took a break. Well… sort of.

We started the day with breakfast at the hotel’s restaurant. They opened all the windows for us, inviting in the birds' chirping sound and the scent of strong coffee mingled with sweet tropical fruit. A little after 8, we all squeezed into one tuk-tuk—legs tangled, laughter erupting—as we set off toward the legendary Angkor Archaeological Park.

Our first stop: Angkor Wat. The morning light illuminated the temple's moat like a mirror. As we crossed the wide sandstone bridge into the main temple complex, the grandeur of the carvings and long passageways pulled us into another century. I had researched the temple the night before, hoping to offer context to the intricate bas-reliefs and the purpose behind each gallery.

We had a whole family photoshoot when we crossed the enormous garden facing the 'City Temple'. We looked at the stone carvings in awe, a glimpse of long forgotten battles and myths of a different time. On the second floor, we guessed what the big basins could be used for. My guess is still a bathing place for the people, like swimming pools in medieval times.

We ascended steep wooden steps up the central tower—Marc, my father, gripped the railing with white knuckles, each step a mini victory as he climbed like “a leaf in a storm,” as he put it. From the top, we looked out over the complex, the view framed by ancient stone and jungle treetops, and the breeze, which was a brief and welcome relief.

After wandering the inner courtyards and temple gardens, we rested under the shade of tall sugar palms. My mom flushed from the heat and sipped water slowly until she felt better. Just outside, in the vast garden expanse surrounding Angkor Wat, we sat in the grass and shared fresh coconuts from a nearby vendor. Their cool, sweet water revived us.

Next, we crossed the imposing causeway into Angkor Thom, greeted by its famed stone guardians lining the bridge—each one with a unique expression, weathered by centuries. As our tuk-tuk curved through the ancient gates, we spotted monkeys lounging along the roadside, posing like temple mascots.

The Bayon temple, with its maze-like layout and towers adorned with serene stone faces, was a favorite. My siblings couldn’t get enough, taking silly and serious photos alike, trying to align their profiles with the ancient faces. The temple’s nooks offered shade and space to wander freely.

By mid-afternoon, the heat pressed down like a thick blanket. Still, we pressed on to Ta Prohm, the atmospheric jungle temple made famous by Tomb Raider. Giant trees stretched skyward from within the ruins, roots snaking over walls like frozen waves. Nature reclaiming stone. My parents marveled at the wildness of it all, while Ine and Kiki found a hollowed-out tree to hide in, bursting into giggles when we tried to take a photo.

We captured a dozen family pictures near the twisted roots and crumbling towers—smiles broad, shirts sweat-soaked, hearts full.