So imagine, night has fallen, and beyond the outer temple enclosure in the jungle there is rustling, shrill cries, and throaty rumbling.

I’m not sure about other aging warriors, but I often wonder whether my later life decisions are sane and practical; is it practical, for example for me to move to Thailand?.

And then I get to thinking about life in the western world and the cultural differences with Asia and I perk up because I realise that staying put in Australia, for me, is not an option; and anyway discovering Asia has been a joy, and I’m always excited at the chance to return there.

One rewarding discovery for me has been the ancient Khmer empire; I recall during my mid to late twenties reading about Pol Pot and Cambodia and I remember never being quite clear about the complex drama that was being played out; I don’t know that I ever resolved the conundrum.

Flash forward to 2004 when I first visted Cambodia as a consequence of discovering a wonderful book, ‘Ruins of Angkor’, full of photographs taken in 1909 by Frenchman P. Dieulefils when the temples were probably little different from when Europeans first re-encountered them in mid nineteenth century; they were tumbling down, they were overgrown by grasses, shrubs and stained by mould, bat droppings, and by the accumulated filth of centuries. And yet, this in no way seemed to diminish the attraction of these extraordinary works of art – these great places of worship. In fact, their ruinous condition was their attraction.

Way back in a February post entitled Dames, Broads and Dolls, I wrote about apsara, celestial dancers, that adorn numerous khmer temples … and I’ve pondered on their similarity because no matter where you come across apsaras, there’s something about them – I’ve gazed at thousands. I’ve closely scrutinised hundreds of faces. There’s definitely something about them.

Georges Coedes, doyen of Khmer Empire academics until his death in 1969 wrote, ‘ … the figures of apsaras which adorn the walls of Angkor Wat are not there solely for the pleasure of the eye: their role is to transform this cold stone dwelling-place into a celestial palace’. So, it seems, he believed that these decorative girls – and all the other temple decorations - were more than simple representations of divine beings; rather he believed they were to evoke divine worlds and bring them to life - in the temple.

So imagine, night has fallen and beyond the outer temple enclosure in the jungle there is rustling, shrill cries, and throaty rumbling. Inside the temple, the great Khmer king Jayarvarman VII is making his way to the inner sanctum of Angkor Wat – his vast retinue of attendants follow although only he and the attending Brahman priests will climb to the highest terrace. The sound of the pacing thousands echo through the galleries and terraces.

Flares flicker and gutter as breezes find their way along colonnades and through windows and doors, golden thread woven into vividly coloured banners shimmer, fabric ripples, incense drifts – and across the rough hewn stone walls shadows tumble, chase and slide at the passing of this vast crowd.

Now the celestial dancers are not so inert – but rather they seem to seductively undulate, sway, and deeply genuflect - and the guardian devatas in deepening shadows alternately recede and emerge as flames flicker. Light gleams on vast golden Buddhas and Hindu deities. Bats zigzag and squeak. Bells and gongs ring, and other instruments tinkle. And fruit and blossom offerings scent the humid night.

The king strides the great encircling galleries with their carved reliefs - floating apsaras in heaven and tormented souls in hell – torture and mayhem – and scenes of the royal court - he pauses by an image his grand-father King Suryavarman II who commissioned this vast building, standing on his war elephant leading a vast army of Khmer and Siamese troops on its way to wage war – to kill and plunder, pillage and enslave.

If apsaras talked - and who knows maybe they do when the tourist hoards are gone - they would tell you they are accustomed to molestation and violence. They have been fondled by perhaps millions of visitors over hundreds of years, for centuries robbers have been hacking their inscrutable faces from shapely bodies to make a quick buck, and restoration works have deconstructed, chemically treated and reconstructed thousands.

The most recent apsara pogrom occurred in temples where Pol Pot’s armed thugs took refuge between 1975 and 1979 amusing themselves using life-sized apsaras for target practice. Happily, by and large, they otherwise left the temples relatively unharmed – a miracle given what the Khmer Rouge did to fellow citizens – these acts of temple vandalism were the very least of their mindless activities.

If you visit Ta Prohm at Tonli Bati, a tiny Khmer temple 20 or so kilometres from Phnom Penh, the smiling apsaras you see are in stark contrast to the depressing depressions of the killing fields of Choeung Ek a few kilometres away where about 17,000 were slaughtered after being brutally tortured by interrogators - fellow citizens - at prison S-21.  At the tall glass-sided memorial there are no smiles – just the bared upper molars of more than 8,000 cavernous skulls arranged on shelves as if in some library in the bowels of hell. Oh that these poor souls could be renovated as effectively as apsaras.

Fortunately, in the early nineteen-eighties the Archaeological Survey of India – the ASI - was selected to undertake Angkor restoration works; their proposals were accepted because of their sympathy with Khmer culture and similar work done on many Indian temples.

The scale of the renovation works was staggering – entire portions of the temple were rebuilt – or at least renovated. Bat nesting was eliminated and the stone-corroding acid from their droppings was neutralised. Micro-vegetation was stripped away. Damaged stones were rejuvenated. Surfaces were chemically cleaned, and protected. And inevitably, fortunately, the apsaras received the same TLC – which is why their smiles are broader than any other Angkor apsaras. Yes, you’re right – that’s not true – but it would be nice to think it was, given the difficulty involved in the restoration.

Like the ugly duckling that became a swan - Angkor Wat was transformed; and all this was achieved as a, post Pol Pot regime, civil war raged around Angkor. India’s Ambassador to Cambodia later wrote: ‘There was no electricity, no health facilities, no communication with the outside world. In short, the working conditions were extreme. But for seven to eight months at a stretch for seven consecutive years from December 1986, the ASI experts spent all their energies in saving Angkor Wat, shoulder to shoulder with their Khmer brethren’.

The work of preserving Angkor Wat – and many other temples – continues with the expertise of many nations.

However, not all the numerous temples in the Angkor region received the same focused attention as Angkor Wat. Even today, in temples where carvings are more exposed to weather, stone contours have softened and only the faintest images remain, moss coats surfaces, tiny plants thrive between blocks, and the webs of marauding spiders form gossamer veils. And in some temples it’s clear that restoration has been, at best, less than perfect – especially when Frangipani’s upper torso has lily’s navel - because sometimes reconstructions are completed with stone blocks that are available - rather than those that are missing.

If you wander through the valleys, across the plains and over hillsides of the one-time Khmer Empire you'll get to meet many more of these apsara beauties, some as fresh and clean as if they were carved yesterday and others not. Their costumes and appearance change depending on the era in which the carvers gave birth to their creations. And there is something about them – some shared characteristic.

Apsara frequently hold flowers, or their diaphanous sarongs are discretely decorated with blossoms, and sometimes they are surrounded by elaborate carved foliage, or the background from which they protrude is a field of repetitive floral symbols.

Perhaps the most common flower represented is the sacred flower of Hindu mythology, the lotus and many apsaras hold a long stem lotus that loops behind their neck.

Every apsara is unique – some barely so - but others are like chalk and cheese. They all have as much variation in eyebrows, eyes, chins, lips and mouths, gestures, body shape, hairstyle, and apparel and accessories as you’d see as any crowded mall anywhere in the world.

I am told several hold books – and that only two, among all the smiles, display teeth - I can vouch that there is one. But I won’t tell you where she is – go look for yourself.

But what is it about them? There is a consistent feature. It’s on the tip of my tongue.

In my first post about apsaras I began by writing that many Asian women have extraordinarily exotic features – added to which they frequently wear clothing that tantalises – like the Chinese cheongsam and the Vietnamese ao dais, for example.

If you hang around you’ll be able to revisit the Khmer Empire, apsaras and the similarity they universally share,  and beautiful women in another post some time soon.

Thanks for spending these few minutes with me.