3. In the Moment

“About how many people do you think will be here this morning?”  I ask my guide, Sieng, because I think I misheard what he just told me.  “About 1,000,” he replies nonchalantly.  Though I believe him, I’m having a hard time imagining that many people would get up around 4 a.m. and drive here to see the sunrise while on vacation.  As a photographer who likes to work with natural light, I’m used to the early hours.  But why would vacationers come here that early?  When I booked this excursion, I was thinking that maybe a couple hundred people would show up.  But now, as we get closer to our destination, I know my assumption was way off.  Masses of people are piling out of tuk-tuks, cars, vans and stepping off of motorcycles, bicycles and animal carts in the parking lot at Angkor Wat, one of the world’s most famous Buddhist temples.  At this pace, there will easily be 1,000 people here to watch the sunrise.  “Let’s stick together and walk all the way to the pond, to the area where you were yesterday afternoon,” Sieng says.  “You should be able to get a spot there for your pictures.”  I know how big the area is, so I can’t imagine not getting a spot.  We get out of the van and briskly walk across the temple grounds to the area where I photographed the temple yesterday in the late afternoon sun.  “Oh my God…  Look!  People are already lined up three to four rows deep.  Seriously?  This is unbelievable and impressive.”  “What do you mean?” he asks.  “It blows my mind that all of these people care enough to do this, especially so early in the morning.”  “Day after day…  so many people,” he says.  “Well, it’s really cool, but there is no way I’m going to be able to get the images I was hoping for.  I can’t get close enough to the water to get the temple’s reflection, and without any elevated spots, I can’t shoot over the heads of all of these people.  I’m not sure what I’m going to do.”  I watch as he looks at the crowd, and I can see his frustration.  “Sieng, no worries.  I’ll figure something out.  Why don’t I meet you back here after the sun rises?”  “I will wait for you over there.”  I look to where he is pointing.  “Bye.  See you in a bit.”  I leave him and walk the length of the crowd, looking for an opening to squeeze into.  Then I see a spot right behind the first row of people standing on the edge of the pond.  I hug my two professional cameras close to me and squeeze my way in.  I quickly bring one of my cameras to my eye and go to work because the light is already shifting.  I take some images and then look around the area where I’m standing.  It’s a sea of iPhones and iPads.  I look through the rows of people behind me and see photographers with their tripods and their hands on their hips — not set up and not getting their shot.  I feel their frustration as I turn my attention back to the temple and changing sky.  There is a group of women clicking away on their Apple devices right in front of me.  I watch as each takes a photo and then shows the others.  Their arms are all over the place, and I can’t get a clear shot around them.  Then I get an idea…   I decide to join in their experience rather than focusing on mine.  I shift gears and watch.  I see how happy the women are to be here.  They appear to be in their sixties, and perhaps this moment is a lifelong dream coming true for them — and I’m witnessing it.  As they click, compare shots and share smiles, it makes me smile to see them so happy.  I bring one of my cameras to my eye and take a few images of one of the women as she takes her photo of the temple in the early morning light.  As I look at it, I gasp.  The alignment in her frame is the same alignment in one of my shots from yesterday.  I consider the huge group of people here and think about the odds that I would be standing where I am.  I look back to the woman, reaching her phone toward the sky and realize that I’m witnessing this sunrise exactly as I am supposed to — through her eyes and perfectly aligned in the moment.