Pictures and words do Ankor Wat little justice. The ruins of a country once ravaged by war and genocide -- slowly reassembling its dismantled identity -- is steeped in allure. I happened to go with a great group of fellow teachers I was training with. As soon as I entered the grounds I veered off and lost track of who I was supposed to be with and following. The intricate design weaves itself from lush green fields, to the palms lining the walkway up to the stoic entrance. Monkeys bounce from tree to walkway, snapping out and grabbing whatever they can from the unsuspecting tourists. Fitting really as we are merely guests in their home, as throughout history others have forgotten. The day was perfect and I was there for the sunset, looking down from a lookout created hundreds of years ago by monks that wanted nothing more than a peaceful place to seek equanimity. Small markets and faux-cultural attractions skirt the grounds but they cannot steal anything away from what you find there. Monks still wander around, orange-garbed and flip-flopped. It is history preserved in the most relative sense in these ever-changing times.