Phnom Penh & the Khmer Rouge

Welcome to Cambodia!

So, having been battered by rain, rain and not much else I was ready I tells ya to get into another country and hopefully sunny weather. One of the things I had decided to do when the idea of travelling in SE Asia was but a small synapse twitch in my head was enter as many countries as possible by water. So, no air conditioned, VIP, comfortable bus over the border for us. No siree, instead a vastly uncomfortable rickety old bus through the rain to the drenched Chau Doc (honestly, nothing to recommend the town), a $10 room overnight that cost as much as it should quite frankly and finally a 6hr or so boat journey to Phnom Penh. Cool yah? We stopped off on the Vietnam and Cambodia border posts and other than paying $1 each as ‘punishment’ for naughtily forgetting our passport photos (slapped wrists) I didn’t get a sense if either country cared if we came or went! Very different to our arrival in Hanoi airport where a 5ft battle-axe with 3inch long wisps of hair coming out of their chin warts put the fear of god, any god, into us.

But I digress, with another stamp in our increasingly battered passports we hopped back onto the Mekong and had a clear, sunny view of Phnom Penh. I  stand by my assertion that arrival by water is the only way to go. Or rather come. We had a hotel booked so only had to jump onto the pier and arrange a quick tuk tuk trip. As most of you will know it does take a few days, or at least a couple of hours, to figure out how much stuff costs when you first arrive in a new country. Still I like to start bargaining at a low price and work up with there. I mean, we did have 10000 riel but I didn’t want to give it all away to the first person in Cambodia. So I espied a likely candidate (victim) for bargaining and opened my mouth to let the battle commence. Now, I obviously should have alerted Southern to my plan of bargaining as as soon as he saw the driver he yelped ‘we have 10000’ and the battle ended abruptly there. Sigh. I made a mental note to gently continue with our bargaining practice before he was let out in public again.

My first impression of Phnom Penh was that it was a lot more built up than I expected. The river front is one long trip of bars, guest houses and restaurants all offering free wifi and western food. Not much different from Vietnam I thought. But then as the hours went by I started noticing subtle signs that I was, in fact, in a different, poorer country. One example was when you delved a bit further into the city on our tuk tuk we saw big piles of stinking rubbish on the sides of the roads with whole families, from grandma to the smallest munchkin, swarming all over it gathering god only knows what. We also had one of those moments that stops you in your tracks and makes your realise just how very sheltered you are. Whilst walking to the Royal Palace on a scorching hot day we were sticking to the walls to get as much shade as we could. The road was very very quiet when we suddenly came upon on a ragged little girl, possibly around 3, lying face down on the pavement surrounded by flies. This completely stopped us in our tracks and, I’ll be honest, I almost couldn’t look as I was scared of what I would see. We both stood helpless, gazing down at her, hoping desperately that she was alive and looking around for anyone who may be responsible for her.  I’m ashamed to say that we I saw the rest of her family, all spread-eagled, asleep, on various parts of the searing pavement I actually felt relief. How bad is that?  A family that obviously has nothing and I’m relieved? But we walked on. I did sneak a quick look back and saw another tourist in exactly the same predicament as us. He walked on too. This definitely wasn’t Vietnam.

I’m happy to say that one of the other things that made me think that Cambodia was unique and special in its own right was the people. We’ve discovered that it is that the people who transport you around the country that seem to be the greatest litmus test for the mood of the people in general. In Cambodia it’s the tuk tuk drivers. They were lovely, every last one we used. We hired one, a Mr Sleung, for the day to take us to see the attractions (such as they are, read below) and not once did he try to rip us off, not once did he insist we go somewhere that we didn’t want to go, he was full of helpful tips about his city and he had a smile on his face at every second. A gem. I was really happy to notice that he had stickers and posters all over his tuk tuk advertising the local charities who were protecting children from abuse. This happy, honest and  wanting to work for your crust attitude was everywhere, such a relief from Vietnam where they think foreigners bleed in dollars.

Our carriage awaits, with our driver taking a wee cap nap.

Now to talk about the ‘elephant in my blog’ that no one to talk about. The Khmer Rouge. Now, I’m not going to go into the history of the country as I know that you all know about the horrific, frankly unbelievable, events that were taking place at the same time I was born but, Christ, coming face to face with their actions and their legacy was deeply touching. Yes Justin (and TJ, Emma, Omar, mum etc etc) even for an emotional desert such as myself. First of the ‘must see attractions’ was S-21 otherwise known as Tol Sleung. This was a high school that was converted into the largest and most infamous prison under the Khmer rouge. The first thing we saw were the graphic photos taken by the Vietnamese liberators of the last 14 people who were held in the prison and tortured in panic, and a universal f-you, by the fleeing Khmer Rouge. Now we had seen visceral photos/exhibitions before but this whole museum was more subdued yet more moving than I’ve seen before.

The rooms were left exactly as they were when the last 14 victims were killed by the escaping Khmer Rouge

 

A high school. With the added accoutrements of imprisonment.

Makeshift cells in a single classroom.

The looks in the eyes in those thousand photos were haunting, they got more and more hopeless as time went on but the one that almost broke me was one of an intellectual brought into the prison at the beginning of the takeover. He obviously had not heard what was happening in this earth-bound hell as he had a broad smile on his face, completely oblivious to the pain, humiliation, torture and his ultimate death at the hands of a 14yr old fellow country man. Horrific, absolutely horrific.

Our lovely tuk tuk driver drove 2 very subdued passengers back to the city centre. Only a bang up meal and copious G &Ts at the famous FCC Foreign Correspondents Club seemed to revive us. Unfortunately we needed reviving as they next morning Mr Sleung took us on the second part of our journey into Cambodia’s brutal past, Cheoung Ek, the killing fields. It was here that the 21000 people held and tortured in S12 were brought to be slaughtered. They weren’t even allowed to die with any semblance of dignity. Instead of wasting precious bullets they were blindfolded in front of an open pit and bludgeoned with any instrument that came to hand, a shovel, hammer, iron bar. No one was spared the vicious anger of brainwashed Khmer Rouge teenagers. They killed babies clinging to their mothers by swinging them by their ankles and smashing their skulls against the ‘Killing Tree’. Pol Pot’s robotic reasoning was that if he killed one he had to kill the entire family to avoid anyone coming after him for revenge.

Monument full of skulls

 

 

The killing tree in the foreground with the accompanying pit filled with the bones of babies.

It strikes me as rather tasteless to merrily go back to talking about museums, dinners and travelling in general after the above so I think I’ll leave this blog as is and go back to the happier stuff (Angkor Wat!) in the next.