The Pilgrimmage that Started it All: Angkor Wat

People often ask what led me halfway across the world to Southeast Asia.

The answer is simple:

Angkor Wat.

Some trips begin with a flight deal. Others with a vague sense of wanderlust. Mine began with a quiet, growing curiosity that eventually turned into, “Alright… I need to see this place for myself.”

And in November of 2024, I did exactly that.

Now, no visit to Cambodia is complete without standing before Angkor Wat—the crown jewel of the ancient Khmer Empire and, quite casually, the largest religious monument on Earth. Over 400 acres of hand-built stone, rising out of the jungle like something that has absolutely no business existing outside of a movie set.

And yet… there it is.

I arrived early one morning with my guide, Ran. As we approached, a light shower of orchid blossoms drifted down from above. Ran lit up immediately, explaining this was a sign of good fortune.

At that point, I was already impressed. I hadn’t even made it to the front gate, and the temple was throwing flower petals at me.

Strong opening act.

Then you see it.

And your brain does a little recalibration.

The scale is staggering. Towers rising more than 200 feet into the sky. Endless corridors. Stone everywhere you look. And then it hits you—this entire place was built by hand.

No machinery. No cranes. No shortcuts.

Just thousands of craftsmen, working in the jungle heat, dedicating their lives to something they would likely never see completed.

Meanwhile, I get tired assembling patio furniture.

At its peak, the city surrounding Angkor supported a population larger than modern-day New York City—over 8 million people—thanks to an advanced system of canals and reservoirs. And this was nearly a thousand years ago, while much of the world was still figuring out… well, basic plumbing.

The artistry alone is enough to stop you in your tracks.

Intricate bas-reliefs stretch across the temple walls, telling stories of gods and demons, epic battles, and everyday life in the Khmer Empire. It’s like a history book—if history books were carved into stone with mind-blowing precision.

And then… there are the stairs.

Let’s talk about the stairs.

Steep. Narrow. Slightly terrifying.

Climbing them feels less like sightseeing and more like a personal challenge issued by the 12th century. No handrails. No safety nets. Just you, gravity, and a growing awareness that the people who built this place were made of far sterner stuff.

I made it to the top, of course—though I like to think the temple and I reached a mutual agreement not to discuss how long it took.

For all its grandeur, Angkor Wat is also a reminder of how even the greatest achievements can fade. Over time, shifting climate patterns—monsoons, droughts—disrupted the intricate water systems that sustained the city. By the 15th century, much of it had been abandoned.

Nature, it seems, always gets the last word.

And yet, Angkor Wat endures.

You can read about it. You can look at photos. You can even listen to someone like me try to describe it.

But none of that quite prepares you for the moment you stand there, looking up, realizing that human beings—without modern tools, without modern technology—created something this vast, this intricate, this enduring.

It’s humbling.

Angkor Wat deserves more than a single blog post.

Then again… some places aren’t meant to be fully captured in words.

They’re meant to be experienced.

Until next time.

Iconic Angkor Wat Temple, Siem Reap, Cambodia