(c) Eric Walter 2017
 Apsara
The apsara hovers in opaline mist As distant thunder rattles dim stars She raises her hand to pursed lips Blowing frangipani petals into viscid air Where they hover momentarily Where they decide to stay forever More stars For the milky ocean of sky.
This video was a labor of love. As expressed in previous posts, I was deeply moved by our experiences in Cambodia - inspired by the creativity of its people, by the mystery of its landscapes, by the dynamism of its history and cultural heritage. This montage of still photos, video, and music is my homage to Cambodia; an expression of my affection and admiration for this beautiful land and the kind Khmer people.
The original music here is not based on any traditional Khmer musical forms or instrumentation; it is my own musical tribute, impressionistic and subjective, to this vibrant musical geography. The primary instruments are mandolin, wood flute, ukulele, and percussion. I recorded the music in a span of approximately ten days in April 2014, almost immediately upon our return. The track titles are as follows; 1) Tuk-tuk 2) By the Wat 3) Cicada Daze 4) The Lemongrass Devata Stomp 5) Night Fires 6) Apsara Dream (To The Sacred Dancers of Angkor) The video also features the wonderful Musicans of Neak Pean, one of several bands we saw playing traditional Khmer music in the temples. The music heard in the closing video clip is performed by the Musicians of Banteay Srey. I was enchanted by Cambodia and hope to return there someday, to teach, to explore, to learn. Until such time there are the many fine memories and impressions which I share with you here. My thanks to all those who helped to make our experience in Cambodia memorable and deeply rewarding: to Nathalie, Chan, Chan Tra and everyone at Maison Polanka; to Shila and all the staff and students at the Music for Everyone School; to Longdy, our kind and intrepid tuk-tuk driver; to Len, our wise and humorous guide; to the amazing Sacred Dancers of Angkor; to Hong and Den at Quad Adventure Cambodia; to all the Khmer musicians of Angkor. 
Kiss of the Mango Rain
A Lyric for Cambodia Here the midnight stars glow red And roosters crow long before sunup. With first light comes the chant of drums And voices from the temple Faint whisper of night’s leftover breeze Rustling leaves of bamboo and mango trees The strange sweet smoke of slash fires Like incense inflames the senses Invades the tangled mind of memories. No dream is as dream-like As this life we are born to visit. By day it is ancient ruins Stone mysteries lurking In a landscape steeped in torporific heat The hypnotic riffs and melodic hysteria Of myriad jungle birds Cicada hoards that roar unseen Then grow tomb-silent. Giant faces gaze from a lost age With sly enigmatic smiles mostly Though some appear ghostly To be mourning a faded glory An irretrievable esteem They are kings, they are bodhisattvas They are legend and they are dust But their monuments still breathe Life and pride into a people Who share many burdens Who bear many scars. This land is heavy with memories of death Scenes of carnage, depravity and torture When sacred trees withered and died, Their roots drowned in Khmer blood. It is not possible to ignore the ghosts Nor is it wise to play with them. In this land flows venom and dark water. In this land the White Bones Village screams For retribution a million times over. The seven-headed cobra has many eyes And just as many fangs. Only the enlightened being apprehends The balance between justice and forgiveness. But there is music grown here Music whose blossoms heal Nourished by the living Victims of landmines Crippled, maimed, and blind Who keep Khmer music alive In the shadows of Angkor’s shrines, The wild strings and strains coursing Through the laterite veins, A blood-tuned ancestral modality Chime of heart, gong of bone High holy fidelity to the Resilient melody of somehow living This cursed and blessed life. See the monks in bright orange robes Shuffling over terraces carved with Epic scenes of long ago Men with bows, clubs, and spears Horses and great elephants in battle But these disciples have no interest In the mythic war they survey One is talking on a cell phone As another lights a cigarette -- Buddha is in the details And the statue of a smiling leper king Lords silently over all. Out in the sweltering countryside Water buffalo plod through sun-baked paddies As egrets huddle in ragged whispers. Naked children play carefully by the road, Their mothers and fathers Aunts uncles brothers sisters Work the dikes and dusty fields, Cherish the shade of their stilt-raised houses. Music from a nearby wedding Dances in the red dirt road as A man rides by on a motorbike with Two dead pigs strapped to the rack, Proud bearer of the nuptial feast. There are many guests assembled And the celebration will last several days. At dusk on the spring equinox Finally the sweet kiss of the mango rain The pre-monsoon shower heaven-sent To soothe the earth that aches The bodies that thirst After wilting months of dry. Palm fronds tremble in the cool spatter Frogs light out fresh on evening meanders Geckos make with their noisy chatter And the mangos In the midnight wind Begin to ripen. (c) Eric Walter 2014 All rights reserved. |
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