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Over the years, I have visited Angkor so many times that I have lost count. The city was the capital of the Khmer Empire, a realm that lasted for more than 600 years—from 802 to 1431. The sight of the great stone temples, such as Angkor Wat and Bayon, leaves an indelible impression on every visitor.
Here you see an AI-generated image of Bayon, the state temple at the heart of the city. From here, more than two hundred stone faces once gazed in all directions—and they still do. At its height, the empire encompassed not only Cambodia but most of Thailand and parts of Laos, Burma, and Vietnam. But was Bayon gilded?
When the Chinese envoy Zhou Daguan arrived in Angkor in 1296, the city and the empire had already passed their zenith. Yet what he saw was more than enough to overwhelm him. In the book he later wrote, he describes temples, rituals, and everyday life—and a “golden tower” that shone in every direction. Scholars believe this tower must have been Bayon. Today it no longer gleams, yet it still inspires both wonder and admiration.
Bayon was built around the year 1200 by King Jayavarman VII. It was not merely a temple, but the epicenter of a cosmic order in which royal power and Buddhism merged. The many stone faces are often interpreted as Lokeshvara, the bodhisattva of compassion, but they may also bear features of the king himself. Perhaps they were meant to represent both in a single figure. The faces are calm and serene, watching over everything and everyone.
Today, Bayon appears as a gray stone monument. But Zhou Daguan’s account suggests that parts of it—likely the upper sections—were once covered with gold leaf. Experts have tried to estimate how much gold would have been required. Bayon’s central tower rises 31 meters above the terrace floor and 43 meters above the ground. If only the upper section was gilded, the visible surface may have been around 200 square meters. Using the thinnest gold leaf, this would have required 7–8 kilograms; with thicker leaf, up to 200 kilograms.
The process began with a small lump of gold, heated to make it more malleable. It was then hammered into a small, flat plate, often only a few centimeters wide. The plate was placed between layers of leather, and the real work began. The craftsman struck it rhythmically with a hammer for hours or days until the gold became so thin that it could be divided into several new sheets. This process continued until the gold leaf was paper-thin.
The point is that gold leaf can be made so thin that visual splendor does not require enormous quantities of metal. What appears lavish may in fact weigh relatively little. It is therefore entirely possible that Bayon once had a golden crown visible from afar.
But gold was only one part of the whole. Angkor was also a world of color. Many of the temples, including Bayon and Angkor Wat, were originally painted. Traces of pigments reveal a limited but effective palette: red and yellow from iron oxides, black from charcoal or soot, and white from lime. The paint was made from crushed minerals mixed with natural binders such as resin or plant-based glue, often applied over a thin layer of lime.
The colors were not used to cover entire surfaces, but to highlight the reliefs. The result was a subtle yet vibrant coloration that gave the figures a clarity now lost. Even today, microscopic remnants of this paint can be found in protected areas of both Bayon and Angkor Wat. Bayon was, in other words, a masterpiece composed of several visual elements.
Gilding and painting were not tasks for just anyone. Producing gold leaf and applying it to stone required skill and precision. Everything suggests that these were specialized crafts in Angkor, carried out by experts supported by large numbers of workers. The gold itself came from deposits in Southeast Asia, trade with India and China, tribute, and war booty. A requirement of a few dozen kilograms for a tower top was substantial, but entirely manageable for an empire at the height of its power.
If we compare Bayon with Shwedagon Pagoda in Myanmar’s capital, Yangon, the contrast is striking. The bell-shaped pagoda is 100 meters high and covered in gold from top to bottom. Here, gilding is a project that never ends. For centuries, pilgrims have applied gold leaf to the shrine, layer upon layer. Today’s visitors buy small sheets of gold leaf at nearby stalls.
In addition, large surfaces are clad in thicker gold plates, amounting to several tens of tons of gold. At the top stands the famous hti crown, set with thousands of gemstones, including diamonds, rubies, and sapphires. The structure is crowned by a large diamond that catches the sunlight.
In countries such as Cambodia, Thailand, and Myanmar, the gilding of sacred structures is common. But gold is not merely decorative; those who apply a thin sheet of gold are believed to be rewarded in their next life. The more, the better. That is why many temples are never truly “finished.” At the stalls near the entrance to Shwedagon, a sheet of gold leaf may cost a small sum, each containing a few flakes the size of a postage stamp.
In present-day Thailand, many are struck by the countless gilded temples. The most famous is Wat Phra Kaew, located within the royal palace grounds near the Grand Palace. Here stands the world’s largest solid gold sculpture, a Buddha statue weighing 5.5 tons. However, the tradition of involving ordinary people in gilding is not as widespread as in Myanmar.
In the Angkor complex in Cambodia, the temples were state projects. When royal power weakened, much of the maintenance ceased. In the 14th century, the Khmer Empire entered a period of decline. Constant wars with Thai and Vietnamese forces drained its strength. Climate change and prolonged droughts may also have contributed to its weakening, damaging agriculture. In the end, Angkor was invaded by a powerful Thai army, and its golden age was over.
Today’s visitors to Angkor see only a small part of the cityscape of the past. The multitude of wooden buildings has vanished; even the royal palace has turned to earth. Only the stone temples remain—some in relatively good condition, others in ruins. Researchers estimate their number at more than a thousand, all within the Angkor Archaeological Park, a protected area of 400 square kilometers.
Recent research suggests, however, that the city and its suburbs were far larger—perhaps 1,000 square kilometers—with up to one million inhabitants. In its time, it was surpassed only by Hangzhou. Marco Polo visited the region in the late 13th century and described it as “the greatest and most beautiful city in the world.” Beijing, by contrast, was significantly smaller. In Europe, Paris was clearly number one with just over 200,000 inhabitants, while Bergen—Norway’s largest city—had fewer than 10,000.
Soon the rainy season is beginning in Cambodia. When the god of life-giving rains has finished his work in October, you should, of course, travel to Angkor. And when you finally arrive, you may, in a fleeting moment of imagination, close your eyes and picture the golden tower at the heart of the empire.