A Pocket of the Past in Battambang, Cambodia

UNDER an electric blue sky, with the morning sun already beating down, Som Sangva Sak stood on a narrow, two-lane bridge over the Sangker River and surveyed his hometown, Battambang, in northwestern Cambodia.

“When we talk about heritage conservation in Cambodia, people only think about Angkor Wat. But we also have something special here, something we need to preserve,” said Mr. Sak, 41, gesturing toward the river’s banks, which are lined with a stunning variety of historic structures: French colonial shop houses with arched windows and ornate iron balconies; grand, century-old villas with burgundy-tiled roofs; imposing pagodas with intricate bas-reliefs.

Chattering schoolchildren in navy blue-and-white uniforms cycled across the bridge, while fishermen in rickety wooden boats occasionally floated by. “These buildings recall the evolution of Khmer civilization — they connect the past to the present,” he continued. “They symbolize our culture and need to be kept for younger generations.”

For the last seven years, Mr. Sak, an adviser to Battambang’s urban planning team and a part-time tour guide, has acted as a liaison between the German government and the local municipality to build awareness of Battambang’s architectural treasures. (Germany has offered the city assistance and expertise in creating new infrastructure, while protecting its old architecture.) Mr. Sak’s task is particularly relevant in today’s climate, as mass development, largely driven by Chinese investment and wealthy officials, transforms Cambodia’s towns, roads and landscapes.

In Battambang, the local government has taken matters into its own hands, with measures like an educational campaign that focuses on cultural heritage. Meanwhile, private financing is responsible for most building restoration, with the goals of attracting tourism and preserving this gem of a town.

With a population of 140,000, Battambang is the country’s second-largest city, though few tourists make it here. Those who do are rewarded with one of the country’s greatest collections of historic structures, from decaying Angkorean temples surrounded by lotus ponds to modernist cinemas built during the country’s 1960s construction boom. They also gain access to one of the country’s richest artistic communities: Battambang has produced generations of artists, a legacy that residents are busy building on.

“People are starting to feel proud of their city again,” said Mr. Sak.

I first visited Battambang in 2006 and fell in love with its crumbling charm and lush, picturesque countryside. Its dark, potholed streets and seedy guesthouses, though, weren’t so lovable. But when I heard that a preservation movement was under way, which included new boutique hotels, art galleries and restaurants, many housed in historic buildings, I decided to go back.

The floods that hit Cambodia in the early fall delayed my plans. Though Battambang was mostly spared, several streets in the city were underwater, as were sections of the 180-mile route from Phnom Penh, the capital. (Conditions have since improved.) When I finally arrived in November, I spent my first night swathed in Old World charm at La Villa, a seven-room boutique hotel in a stunning two-story home built by a wealthy local tradesman in the 1930s and restored in 2005. Antique armoires, four-poster beds, richly patterned floor tiles and vintage ceiling lamps fill the space. Each night, the hotel’s restaurant serves tender steaks and fish curries to a mature European crowd seated at candlelit tables shaded by hundred-year-old trees.

The next morning I headed to the other side of the river and explored the Heritage Protection Area, a compact district defined by the municipal government in 2009. It’s populated by about 800 historical buildings, the largest collection in the country. I ducked into a squat, roughly 150-year-old Chinese temple with curved gables; the roof was partly collapsed but it was still active. Since most worshipers come in the afternoon, though, I had it to myself, snapping photos of the tattered red Chinese lanterns and colorful paintings on the walls.

Nearby is Psar Nath, the city’s main market, housed in a faded yellow Art Deco edifice with a tiered roof and clock tower built in 1936. Shoppers closely inspect goods from glittering wedding apparel to recently killed chickens.

Peaceful as the town might be today, Battambang’s architectural vestiges bear testament to a tumultuous past. Over the last two centuries it has been ruled by Thailand and France. It enjoyed a brief period of freedom during the heady, post-independence days of the 1950s and ’60s before the Khmer Rouge came to power in 1975. Battambang province was one of the regime’s last strongholds — peace wouldn’t arrive until 1997, when the city began to pick up the pieces.

Nevertheless, Battambang has produced some of the country’s most famous artists: the 1960s chanteuse Ros Sereysothea, whose popularity persists decades after her death; the late painter Vann Nath; and Chhom Nimol, the frontwoman of the Los Angeles-based indie rock band Dengue Fever.

“Even during Angkorean times, there was a strong, talented group here who wanted to create their own kingdom,” said Theanly Chov, 26, a painter who manages the nine-month-old Sammaki, one of the new galleries that exhibits young local artists. “The combination of cultures — Cambodian, Chinese, Thai, French — makes the city open-minded to art.”

Source - nytimes