Shinta Mani: Shangri-La in Angkor Wat’s Shadows

“The Chinese are taking the water,” our young, pencil-thin thin boat driver complained. “That’s why the river is low.”

And the river was low which was causing our rickety wooden boat to run aground. Often. We were attempting to travel from Battambong to Siem Reap, Cambodia on a vessel we dubbed “The African Queen” as it offered all the charm and comforts of that fabled boat.

The trip was scheduled to last around four hours, but ended up taking nine. And much of the delay was caused by our boat’s hull playing kissy-face with the river bottom. The drivers and passengers of nearby boats, as well as the countryside’s kids swimming in the Kahlua-colored river, pushed us through the shallow spots. But the going was slow and we fell far behind schedule. 

When we finally pulled into the dock near Siem Reap at sunset, we were sore, tired, sweaty, thirsty, dirty—and anxious to arrive at an oasis: our hotel.

For around thirty-minutes we drove on a winding, undulating road through Siem Reap’s dream-like neighborhoods full of flowering jacaranda, ginger, heliconia, and bougainvillea while faint clouds of dust glowed pink in the setting sun. We hadn’t even reached our hotel and already we breathed a collective sigh of relief; we’d arrived. 

At the Eden-like entrance to Shinta Mani, hotel staff met us with mint and lemon-grass-flavored water and cool, jasmine-scented towels. Just inside, glasses of champagne waited. To reach them, we walked through open-air passageways decorated with sculptures, orchids, lotus arrangements, reflecting pools, and fountains. Large oil paintings, glowing candles, and lush tropical flower arrangements—works of art themselves—filled the walls, corners, tabletops, and nooks. 

I could have stopped at a half dozen tranquil spots and sank to the polished floor to take a nap or assume child’s pose. But we had yet to arrive in the candle-lit reception room to check in and then to wander more pristine passageways before we ultimately arrived in our refined rooms. 

While we had traveled to Siem Reap to visit Angkor Wat, we soon realized that our hotel was a worthwhile destination on its own. 

Designed by Bill Bensley, the hotel’s corridors, courtyards, and rooms reflect careful consideration of every element—no plant, piece of furniture, fountain, or candle is out of place. Laid out using feng shui principles, the hotel represents the antithesis of chain hotels with their cookie cutter layouts. Every element of Shinta Mani seems unique and of the place. 

Just a block away, a major thoroughfare is full of the roar of tuk-tuks, buses, and motorcycles. Inside Shinta Mani, though, an atmosphere of Zen pervades—no noise permeates the walls and green fences. Fountains bubble, birds chirp. Small garden courtyards echo with the sounds of silence.  

In the rooms, arrangements of tropical flowers and fruits doubles as a work of art (and they’re refreshed at least daily). Sunny mornings, sublime and tranquil, are marked by hotel staff who sit cross-legged on a raised platform in the stair hall and speak in hushed, melodic tones as they assemble the lotus and tropical flower arrangements that decorate the public spaces and rooms. 

If there’s a downside to Shinta Mani, it’s that you may be tempted to never leave the spa-like, serenity-soaked spaces of its rooms or its public spaces, If you must leave—and you must because the temples of Angkor Wat beckon—when you return exhausted from climbing ruins and hiking through jungle in the tropical heat, you can fall asleep with images of Angkor Wat depicted in dimly-lit ceiling insets above your bed.