The Illustrated Man
This blog is not the only way I have been documenting our travels. I am also using my skin. There’s the first tattoo I got on our voyages, of a traditional Oaxacan floral embroidery motif. Then came a henna-style tattoo in Marrakech. My most recent ink was a deeply meaningful Berber design in Tunis.
I knew that Southeast Asia was a hotbed of tattooing, but I wasn’t sold when I looked for traditional Vietnamese tattoos. Lots of tigers and dragons, clearly meant to appeal to the tourist market. I knew I’d find rich traditional work if I dug deep enough, but what I saw initially didn’t really speak to me.
Not so traditional Khmer tattoos in Cambodia, also known as Sak Yant. These are more like the Berber tattoos, in that they are both visually stunning and have a significant cultural lineage. Sak Yant is more closely associated these days with Thailand than Cambodia, but its origins can be traced to a common source: the Khmer kingdom when it included the territories of both modern countries, around the 9th century. Some references place the origins in Angkor Wat, in what is now Siem Reap. So getting a Sak Yant here feels right. This is the source.
But like my Berber tattoo, getting it done right was more important than just getting it done. There are plenty of tattoo parlors in the Pub Street area offering traditional bamboo tattoos, and I’m sure they’d have been delighted to do something that looked like a Sak Yant at my request. Fortunately, I was able to find the Federation of Khmer Sakyantra, dedicated to both the art form itself and the rituals and traditions that inform the art and suffuse it with meaning.
What’s different about a Sak Yant tattoo? Many things. For starters, it’s a whole process. It begins with an offering. I was told to bring: 7 types of fruits, 10 lotus flowers, 5 candles, 1 pack of incense, and ៛10,000 riel ($2.50) to put on the fruit. They offered to put the package together for me for $20, but I thought I needed to fulfill my own quest.
Second, Sak Yant tattoos are not just artistic expressions. To quote the Federation, “they embody spiritual beliefs, offer protection, and serve as powerful symbols of personal and communal identity.” So you don’t walk in and tell them you want a Hanuman on your ass. Instead, you have a conversation with the Sak Yant Master about who you are, where you are on your life path, and what your goals are. They then decide what type of symbol you should get and where it should be applied. Again, to quote, “The Sak Yant tattoo is not just a decoration but a personalized talisman designed to align with the wearer’s life path.”
Then there’s the process of receiving the tattoo itself, which is highly ritualized. It starts with the offering and a blessing, and then mantras are chanted during the tattooing, infusing the design with spiritual energy and blessings. It ends with a final blessing from the Master himself.
The tattoo can be done with a modern machine, but I opted for the traditional bamboo, done by hand. It takes longer than the machine, is more expensive, and is, by repute, more painful, but it’s the way it’s been done for centuries. There is no excuse for half stepping through life.
Design
The first step is choosing the Yantra. When I sat down they had brought out many books of designs, so it was clear they’d permit some agency. If a client loved something they felt was inappropriate I’m sure they’d say so, but that’s not how I wanted this to go. So I explained who I was, why I inked, where I was in my life, where I was headed, and what I valued.
Without a moment’s hesitation my guide pulled out a specific design and told me it would go on my shoulder. I looked at literally a single design. That was the guidance I was after. It’s the first time I’ve gotten a tattoo without any initial design considerations on my part, but it was the right way to Sak Yant.
Once he walked me through the meaning it was clear he’d made the right, best choice.
Offering
We then prepared the offering I’d brought: fruit, lotus flowers, incense, candles, and a small cash offering.
A candle was lit and my offering placed before it. 
My guide lit incense while chanting, and then had me kneel before the candle and light nine incense sticks… 
Which were then placed in a plant outside. I’d been asked to say a prayer when I lit my incense, so I asked for wisdom, strength, and a long (enough) life. I know how wishes work.
Set Up
This had me rethinking the whole machine vs. bamboo thing. 
A freshly unwrapped, sterile blade affixed by hand to the bamboo shaft. I mean, it was freshly unwrapped. This was taken after the tattoo was done. 
The mantra I was given to repeat to myself during the process to calm myself, which sounded something like oh-moo ahl-o-han. 
The sculpted fellow on the right executed the tattoo, while the apprentice on the left held my skin taut. I told myself that I needed my skin held taut because of the location, but I saw a young woman there getting a piece on her back without a skin sherpa, so maybe I just needed the shoulder wattles held down. Sad. 
Say what you will about the rural setting and the dirt yard, the equipment was meticulous and sterile.
Execution
And away we go.
The bamboo tattoo is supposed to be more painful than a tattoo machine, but I’m not sure that was my experience. It was… different, but I’m not convinced it was worse. It’s slower, so the same amount of work takes longer, but even there I’m not sure it’s net worse.
The needle on the bamboo stick doesn’t go as deep as a tattoo machine does, so I think that’s a vote for the bamboo, painwise. That’s also why bamboo tattoos are reputed to fade faster than mechanical tattoos, but I don’t think that’s an issue for me. Let’s just say that anyone offering me a lifetime guarantee at this point is getting a good deal.
It also felt like the fast, repetitive nature of the tattoo machine inflamed the skin around it more than the bamboo, so that’s another vote for bamboo. And then it turns out that the healing process is completely different for the bamboo vs. the tattoo machine. You can’t get a machine tattoo wet for 10-14 days, but I was cleared to swim next day. It still needs to be kept from the sun that long, just like with a machine tattoo, but it’s barely sore to the touch. The aftermath of a machine tattoo feels like a nasty sunburn, but the aftermath of the bamboo tattoo doesn’t feel like anything at all. I’ll be sleeping on that shoulder tonight.
And there was a subjective element, as well. Until I’d had the bamboo experience, I was unaware how industrial the tattoo machine felt by comparison. It seems now like a surprisingly pure expression of late-stage capitalism. “That’s a lovely little thing you’ve got there, bucko, but there’s been an Industrial Revolution and that bamboo shit don’t cut it. Here, let’s hook that fucker up to an engine and see how brutal we can make it.”
So I guess that’s all the votes for bamboo. Who knew?
This shows just how slow and methodical this process is, compared to the jackhammer of a mechanical tattoo pen.
Blessing
And… done. Nothing left but the final blessing. This is with the Master of the entire facility. He gets involved at the very end to perform the final blessing and lock everything down so it is all done to code and everything works properly. He threw stuff at me and chanted, so I’m pretty sure it worked.
Of course, nothing is explained to me, but for some reason the blessing ceremony involved the Master spraying me with water like I was the cat that Buddha desperately wanted off the table. While chanting.
You’ll notice that I’m sitting with my legs out and ankles crossed. I had been instructed to sit in the lotus position, but there is no part of me that bends like that anymore. Sadly, this was my closest approximation.
Once I was thoroughly soaked, the lotus flower petals I had so meticulously dismembered came home to roost. Also, there was chanting.
I am tattooed and blessed, with my tattoo fully activated with a spirit who will stay with me and watch over the tattoo to make sure it’s doing its job, protecting me as I travel the world. I’m sure my Berber tattoo and my Sak Yant will be talking to one another. I hope I’m able to sleep through the racket.
