Katie and I have both wanted to visit Cambodia for a long
time. Angkor Wat, obviously, topped our list of reasons why. But, for me, there
were other reasons. First, my cousin Kate, lived and worked in Cambodia for
about a year. She’s a bit of a wanderer, so it says something about a place
that can keep her there for a while. Second, a friend of my mom’s from work,
Paul, is from Cambodia and goes back almost every year, taking with him
supplies for his hometown. I wanted to see a place that could produce such a kind
person. And lastly, when I was a kid, I watched a film about a Cambodian family
who escaped the Khmer Rouge and fled to the U.S. I don’t remember what it was
called or what happened, but it made an impression on me.
I’ve never studied Cambodian history, recent or otherwise,
but have a cursory understanding of its progress since the French colonial
days. Having now visited, I can honestly say that I want to know more (book
recommendations welcome).
The visit …
Katie and I took an early flight from Singapore into Phnom
Penh. The visa process was quick if not well organized. I handed over my cash
and passport and had my name called not five minutes later with a cool new visa
tucked inside. Once we left the arrivals terminal, which was surprisingly small,
we found an ATM to get money out of (Cambodia uses American monies). Katie got some; I did not. In the few months I’ve been out of the U.S., I have completely
forgotten my ATM pin numbers. Oops. Cash in one of our hands, we hopped a
tuk-tuk and headed to our hotel.
The drive through the city was interesting and a bit of
a shock to the senses, especially after Singapore. The streets were heavily
crowded with cars, tuk-tuks, motorbikes, bicycles, and pedestrians. More so
than Malaysian traffic, there seemed to be no discernible rhyme or reason to
traffic flow in Phnom Penh’s morning jam. When coming to an intersection, it
was almost like the direction that had the most cars would win the right of
way. The whole thing reminded me of rivers that meet and somehow swirl together.
Power lines were thick and jumbled, sometimes making it look like there was a
more distinct grid above the ground than on it.
In about a half hour we arrived at our hotel, a sweet little
place tucked into a side street in an area near both the riverfront and the
royal palace. Because we’d taken such an early flight, our room wasn’t ready
when we checked in. Instead of waiting at one of the pool cabanas – which came
with towels, pillows, and fans – we walked over to a spa and had two and a half
hour treatments. For cheap. Welcome to Cambodia.
We took the rest of the day pretty easy, wandering around
the riverfront (that’d be the Mekong River), grabbing some surprisingly decent
Mexican food, and watching public outdoor aerobics. The older ladies got really
into it. After dinner we walked over to the Raffles Hotel’s Elephant Room bar
for an amazingly good happy hour deal. 
The next day, we visited the royal palace, the central
market, and the Russian market. The palace grounds were pretty and included
several unofficial exhibits of Cambodian currency and handicrafts. The markets
were incredibly hot and humid, but a tchotchke heaven (I may have gone a little
overboard). After visiting these places, we agreed that it was too hot (100 degrees
plus) to keep sightseeing, so we took a tuk-tuk to a café/bar type place that I
wanted to check out.
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| Fresco depicting scenes from the Ramayana at the Royal Palace. |
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| Another scene from the Ramayana. |
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| Central Market. |
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| Food stall at Central Market. |
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| Avocado Salad. |
Like a lot of places in Phnom Penh, Botanico, is tucked back
from the street with very small signage indicating its existence. Once we found
it, though, it was hard to leave. Katie and I both ordered slushies:
ginger-mint and coconut coffee (coffee with actual coconut water and fruit). The
slushies were so good – and so cold – we ordered two more. The food was equally
good. Desperate for some veggies, I ordered their avocado salad, which was
(thankfully) more guacamole-like than salad-like. It even came with banana
chips. I forget what Katie had; I was too into my avocados.
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| Botanico. |
Stuffed to the brim, Katie and I walked back to the hotel
and took it easy by the pool until it cooled off. For dinner, we met up with a
couple of guys from my program who were also traveling in Cambodia. We went to
a different Mexican restaurant (anyone sensing a theme?) where I had pork
(PORK!) taquitos and several not quite strong enough margaritas. After dinner
we found a bar with a pool table and played one, very sad game. I’m pretty sure
the bar was one where old white dudes could pick up young Cambodian women.
That’s one of the few things I did not like about Cambodia –
the blatant sex tourism. You don’t have to be a genius to figure out that young
Cambodian ladies hanging out with old white guys aren’t doing it because they
are interested in their stellar personalities. And you see it everywhere. It
took a lot for me not to run up to these guys and yell, “we all know what you’re
doing, you old coot.”
On our last day in Phnom Penh, Katie and I visited the
Killing Fields (Choeng Ek) and Tuol Sleng/S-21, the school-turned-detention
center-turned-museum/memorial where many victims of the Khmer Rouge were
tortured and killed. We went to the Killing Fields first, where we took an
audio tour of the Fields, outlining what happened where and including stories
of people whose lives had been affected by the Khmer Rouge. The audio tour is
very good, but seeing the fields with the scraps of clothing and shards of bone
that still emerge from the ground today, was difficult. What made it more
difficult was discovering that although this killing field was one of the
largest, there are hundreds all over the country. They were common and
pervasive.
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| Khmer Rouge leaders' images scratched out at Tuol Seng. |
After the Killing Fields, we went to Tuol Sleng, an old
school where many of the Khmer Rouge’s victims were required to write their
biographies before being tortured and either sent to the Killing Fields or
killed on-site. The school sits in what feels like a normal neighborhood with
houses and shops across the street. The buildings now house different exhibits
about their former roles during the Khmer Rouge’s time.
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| This is not a place to laugh. |
Most of these exhibits include photos of victims being
tortured, but some also include the photos of their victims as they were
processed into the detention center. These photos were the most disturbing to
me. There were so many that you couldn’t see them all, but felt like you
should. They included women with babies, entire families, and very young men. They
might have argued that these boys were teenagers, but they were kids. In these
photos, some of the people look indifferent. Some look terrified. Some smiled –
because that’s the automatic response when someone turns a camera toward you.
For those of you who know me well (or at all), you know that
I’m not what you’d call “sensitive.” I don’t share/show my feelings openly and
I’m not easily affected by things. But being at a school that became a place
for torture was hard for me. Realizing that most of the Khmer Rouge’s
leadership had been teachers made me sad. I almost couldn’t walk into the
last building, which housed more photos of victims and the instruments used
against them.
As hard as it was for me to see these places, I’m glad I
went. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was important to see. If you ever find
yourself in Phnom Penh, go.
Next up, Siem Reap ...
