Cambodia’s beautiful green rice fields

I have become complacent. Living here has become normal and I’m taking everything for granted. So, I find myself in a race against time. A race to to photograph the magnificent countryside in all it’s lime green splendour, shining under the golden light of storm clouds or contrasting with rich blue skies.

I’m painfully aware that the bright green rice fields are rapidly turning golden as the rice seeds develop and harvesting is taking place in earnest throughout the villages. Soon the green will have completely faded to gold and then brown and it won’t be long before the bare earth is once again baking under the relentless sunny skies, wind whipping it into dust clouds, waiting for the cycle to begin again in the next wet season.
So this week I’ve been chasing light. Chasing big, wide landscapes, green rice and witnessing the beautiful colours at the beginning and the end of the day. And along the way I’ve seen some wonderful things.
It started with a late afternoon sojourn with a young (okay he’s 26 but he looks 16) tuk tuk driver who was very keen to please but not 100 per cent sure what I wanted. But he did his best to get me to green rice fields and a sunset before darkness overtook us. And he showed me a little slice of rural life.

This man is spreading nets in the rice to catch fish, which are often found in the shallow waters of the rice field. “One dollar, one dollar,” he joked as I asked if it was okay to photograph him. A grin splitting his face as he went about his work.

People walking cows to feed and water is a common sight in the rural landscapes.

There is something so joyful about children in hot places, making the most of water. These youngsters are apparently throwing a net to catch frogs. Yes, they are a popular meal here. But I love that they take time to run and jump and splash like kids everywhere – totally enjoying the moment. Kids being kids.


Along the way we got bogged. I had to get out and push the tuk tuk. There was much laughter from my driver and me as he tested the depth of this spot, which was okay. But at the next section he gunned the poor motorbike’s engine and raced through as I squidged behind in the warm, ankle deep water, not wanting to think about what I might be treading on.

Then we waited and watched as the sun changed the sky from blue to vibrant shades of red and soft pink as it set.

But it was just a taste. A taste of what my camera hasn’t snapped. A taste of the nooks and crannies, the winding tracks and red dirt roads that take you off the main roads and out into the real Cambodia, where life is not so fast-paced and time seems to have stopped.
So, in search of more, I headed off to work with the Joker and his building crew. But I left them to their building and hired the services of a man with a motorbike to taxi me around the local countryside. It is really a beautiful part of the world. He couldn’t speak any English but hand signals and my few words of Khmer managed to get us through for the next few hours. I’m not sure what he thought of the Barung with the big camera but he did a great job of showing me around.

He somehow understood my chmwah ay? when I asked this lovely, somewhat bemused lady what her name is. She didn’t understand me but I took it as a small language achievement that he did. But without writing it down I’m hopeless. Her name sounded something like Bron Den.

This man gave me a big grin as he walked past with his cow.


And sign language really does go a long way. This man made it clear that he wanted me to take his photo and nodded with satisfaction when I did. It was taken on the fly and badly posed but I love how he stood so rigid while I took it.
But it was the beautiful green rice fields I was desperate to photograph – before they are no longer green. I was fearing I might miss out until my driver pointed left and said: “sa’aat. Yes, sa’aat. Beautiful.


But I was hungry for more. It is such a photogenic time of year here. So the next morning I got out of bed early and our friend Marom took me out to see another slice of this great place. Marom’s knowledge of the surrounding countryside is outstanding and he knew exactly the kind of things I was trying to see. His English is great as well so he could introduce me to people, ask questions and explain responses. It was a much more interactive experience.
But while we left early, it was not quite early enough to be anywhere special when this massive ball of fire emerged over the horizon. What a way to start the day.

My skin was slightly chilled in the early morning air and I was delighting in this novel feeling as the sun climbed steadily over the horizon and the landscape came to life under it’s soft rays. It was such a glorious morning and a wonderful time of day. I was suddenly regretting the early mornings I’ve been missing.

Marom, as always, was patient with my requests to stop and was on the lookout for opportunities I might like.

Like this stunning pond filled with water lilies.

The poisonous snake was less impressive and a reminder to pay attention.

It was not long before we came across a small field where two young children were hard at work, harvesting rice. Marom stopped and wandered straight in. “No problem,” he said. And while I stood around he had found a spare harvesting tool (I don’t remember its name but it’s like a sharp, curved knife) and he was at work with the children, slashing the long stems and tying them into bundles.

He made quick work of the job and this little patch was finished in no time. The children grateful for the extra pair of hands. Their mother calling out thanks.

We were on our way again and Marom was taking me to a temple – an ancient one – that is not often frequented by tourists. And as we drove down the road I suddenly recognised where I was. I’d been here the day before with the motorbike driver. And for a change, I was able to show Marom something – the porcupines and deer living at the pagoda, apparently donated to the monks by people looking for good fortune.
On the return journey, again through the back roads and small villages, we stopped to see a group of people harvesting rice. Marom must have suggested that I’d like to take photos and one woman, who had a sparkle in her eye and challenge written all over her face, handed me the harvesting tool.
So I took up the challenge and tried my hand at harvesting rice.


As we walked away she said to her friends amidst loud peals of laughter: “she speaks good orkun.” Yes, I do. Thank you is an important word to know. But clearly it would help to expand the conversation.
The sun had well and truly risen by this stage and the light had lost its morning softness, so we headed for home.
But there is more to do and so much more to see and my race against time will continue during the next week or so as I get out and about and find the pretty villages and the people who occupy them. I will not be complacent over the next few weeks and I will be making the most of this glorious time of year.