Phnom Penh is confronting, sad, proud, poor and its people must deal with the past everyday.
From the 8th floor.
A few years ago I did a trip to Thailand with two friends, after spending time in Bangkok together the group split, with one of my friends heading off to Cambodia and the other friend and I heading south to soak up the sun on Thailand’s famous (or infamous, depending on your taste) beaches and islands. When she came back and told me stories about this country I knew I would want to visit one day. Not just for the temples, but for the people, which are mentioned every time Cambodia comes up in a conversation. Other travellers I have met along the way have sung Cambodia’s praises too. Now, I can see why people love this place and I hate to be cliché, but it has everything to do with its beautiful people.
Flag and Mekong.
The journey from HCMC to Phnom Penh on the bus was a funny one. We were lavished with pastries, cool towels and forced to watch The Expendables 3 on a wonky screen before it crashed out and was replaced by Cambodian karaoke videos. The ride was pleasant, but the border crossing couldn’t boast the same. On the Vietnamese side we crowded in a stinking hot room with no lines or order. We waited for them to call out names but they never seemed to. On the Cambodian side we were greeted with chairs, a fan and even a suggestion box. I purchased my visa, scanned my fingerprints and walked into the next country on my adventure.
Independence monument.
Strangely, for tourists, the currency of choice is the US dollar and only the smallest change is given in ‘riel’ (Cambodian currency). Tuk tuk rides cost $1 per person, water $1 etc etc. I’ll be straight with you, I don’t know anything about economics, so anyine who wants to explain how a country runs off two currencies, one for locals and one for tourists, I’ll be keen to listen.
Tuk Tuk. $1 per person, always.
The journey from here was eye-opening. The povery is hard to take. People sell food and anything else they may have gotten their hands on at the side of the road. Young children in soiled clothes play in the dust. My Dad asked, “how do people live like this?”, obviously, it is because they have to. Which is a strange concept for most Westerners who enjoy what they want, when they want and often over-indulge in that. The poverty is everywhere. Disabled people beg, families sit on mats where you know they will be sleeping and I become more and uncomfortable with my privilege. I don’t know how to react. I don’t know what is appropriate, probably because nothing really is. This continued right into the city, our first stop, Cambodia’s capital, Phnom Penh. According to legend the place was founded by an old woman named Penh who found a tree trunk floating in the river and built houses for Buddha and Shiva statues that were miraculously found. You can visit the hill (known in Cambodian as a Phnom) she built the houses on at Wat Phnom, a lovely temple with buzzing activity on all sides of the mound. Everything from crowing roosters to vendors are making a racket around the base. The people of Phnom Penh are proud. Monuments to significant moments and people can be found all over the city. Old Lady Penh get a monument, as does ‘Independence’ and King Noridam Sianouk. All are lit up beautifully at night too. Like a good monument should be.
Lady Penh’s monument.
I mentioned earlier in the year about my ability to show up in town when festivals occur without knowing that they are on. Semana Santa in Spain, Songkran in Thailand and now, Cambodia’s water festival. The festival revolves around boat races where up to 100 rowers per boat battle it out on the rivers of major towns. This meant that the place was brimming with people, street vendors were even more keen to sell their wares and as always, there was something going on everywhere you look. As soon as I heard water festival, I panicked and had flashbacks to the outrageous water-fight of Songkran, but here, the action takes place on the water, not in it. This is like Moomba or an agricultural show by Australian standards. Just on steroids.
Street food vendors.
Another significant event came to pass when I was in Phnom Penh and that was my 30th birthday. My amazing parents came all the way from Australia to celebrate with me. Which I am so grateful for. And what was the activity of the day? Not my usual birthday shopping trip with Mum, lunch with my grandparents or drinks with my friends. A visit to the killing fields was on our itinerary. Not a very birthday friendly trip, especially considering all the times I cried that day. We went to the killing fields at Cheoung Ek and the Toul Sleng prison. I knew I wouldn’t have missed either. The horrifying and recent history of the Khmer Rouge and the genocide of the Cambodian people shapes the very fabric of their nation. The population was decimated from 7 million people, to just 4 million. The intellectuals were the main victims, but the policy of ‘pulling the weed out by the root’, means that whole families were murdered, even babies. Something like this has shaped the people. If I want to understand them, I need to know this. I can’t really describe what I saw at the fields. I could horrify you by telling you about the human teeth that are still wedged in the dirt paths and the bones that appear through the soil after a heavy rain, the victim’s clothes, ‘The Killing Tree’, the heartfelt tributes for the souls of the dead and the infamous stupa with 17 levels of damaged skulls and bones of victims. Our guide had lost family members in the genocide and you could often see him pausing and reflecting through his explanations. I don’t like to compare, but I found this place was more confronting than my trip to Auschwitz last month. I felt sick most of the time. Tears were constant. It was so brutal, violent and cruel. Here, people were worth less than bullets and horrible ways were invented to maim, torture and kill them.
The bracelets are an offering for the lost souls of the victims of the Khmer Rouge.
After Choeung Ek we visited the Toul Sleung prison where thousands of people were tortured and murdered for information that they did not have. This place was horrifying. People were chained by the legs, and forced to live in their own filth. At the prison, we were able to meet some victims of the atrocities that went on at the prison. One, names Mr. Chum Mey has bright eyes and a kind smile. he encouraged pictures so we could ‘spread the word’ about what went on there. Another was just a small boy when he was rescued. He now works as a cleaner. He says he cries every day but it’s worth it for the world to see what happened. Our guide, who even lost his father also discussed the concept of ‘forgiving and forgetting’. To me this seems like an impossible task, but the Cambodian people’s kindness again shines through. The current Cambodian Prime Minister and many in his cabinet are former Khmer Rouge generals and high-ranking officials. People live with people who may have murdered their family members as neighbours. I found this mind-boggling, but our guide asked a simple question that provided all the answers. He said “if we seek revenge for our families, then they seek revenge for theirs. When does it stop?”. A smarter man than I, a friend I met on Croatia Sail told me not to go to the killing fields on my birthday. He was right, it was devastating. But I’m glad I went there and I was able to understand what happened here. It horrifies me that more people have not been brought to justice, but that is a reality that many Cambodians must deal with.
Mr. Chum Mey: Survivor.
The rest of my birthday was much more conventional with lunch at ‘Friends’, a restaurant that gives street kids opportunities to work as waiters and chefs, eating some deep fried fritters from a street vendor, a beautiful river cruise on the mighty Mekong with dinner, some spider whiskey (horrible), and some cocktails on the terrace at the Foreign Correspondent’s Club overlooking the buzz of activity below.
Over the water from the FCC.
My first stop in Cambodia was a confronting one. The recent past dominates. But there is more to this place than the past and hopefully that means a brighter future.
Ali's adventure 