I need to add a disclaimer to this blog entry. Some of it isn't for the squeamish. Cambodia's recent history is horrific.
I didn't think very much about Cambodia before getting on the plane from Krabi in Thailand, from where we flew into Phnom Penh. But as we approached on the plane I was aware of a sense of fear running through me, and slowly I realised that it was due to my early memories of the killing fields of Cambodia, Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge. I was scarcely born when the atrocities were actually occurring, but in the decade that followed, as the scale of the genocide emerged, I remember the horror of my parents at the images on the TV screen, which I could not comprehend, and my Mum's particularly distressed state after she had watched the Killing Fields film, which was released in 1984.
And they weren't half bad actually. The hardest part is getting it into your mouth. Curiously, or perhaps not so curiously given the resemblance, it tastes a bit like crab. Earthy crab. I quite liked the taste, but the whole process of eating a large spider is not one I massively enjoyed if I am honest, even if it was deep fried. But I did it, so that's something ticked off the list. The Cambodians eat a lot of such things, understandably really. But for the rest of that evening I settled with fish amok, which is basically Cambodian fish curry. It was delicious!
Next day was our first proper day in Phnom Penh. As soon as you walk out of the guesthouse, you're immediately approached by remork drivers wanting you to employ them. They are usually keen to take you on a tour, and generally speaking, so long as you pick one who can speak your language well enough, it is a good thing to do. Often they are great people, very knowledgeable, and the journeys are adventures in themselves. Weaving in and out of traffic, driving the wrong way down the road, cruising leisurely into busy intersections with no traffic lights and lots of other similarly suicidal drivers. It really is worth the money! So much excitement/pant soiling fear for so little money. Bargain.
First to Wat Phnom, a Buddhist temple built on the only hill in Phnom Penh. A lot of Cambodia is very flat, and and this is largely because the Mekong river has spent many millennia depositing its nutrient-rich silt in the delta that interfaces with the ocean, and slowly creating a huge fertile plain which makes up much of southern Cambodia. Ideal for rice planting, this is what you see throughout much of the country, along with the dykes and waterways needed to irrigate the paddy fields. The Wat was colourful and beautiful, but not as spectacular as many I'd seen in Thailand. Perhaps more interesting was the woven Naga to the East of the Wat. The Naga is a mythical multi-headed serpent, which in Angkor mythology is either a God who controls the rain or represents the link between heaven and earth. You see their serpentine bodies on staircases and balustrades and their heads at the corners of roofs. When paired with the Garuda, a half-man half-bird creature who is also the Naga's half brother, it is meant to represent peace, as normally they are at war with each other. On many of the memorials to those killed by the Khmer Rouge, you see the Garuda and the Naga together, representing this, and as a sort of offering to the dead to calm any disturbance in their souls.
Worth pointing out at this stage that the Cambodian currency, the Riel, is used interchangeably with US dollars. Anything worth over a couple of dollars (8000 Riel) you tend to pay for with dollars. But you get small change in Riel. It is very confusing. In the west of the country they also add Thai Baht into the mix too just to really get your mental currency converter in a tizz. Lots of unfamiliar brand names here (as well as plenty of familiar ones), including this brand of condensed milk which, given the country has a particular problem with paedophile sex tourism, doesn't seem very appropriate.
Next that day to the Royal Palace, which was similar in feel to the Royal Palace in Bangkok, but less elaborate.
Still more genocide to come, but that's the worst of it over.
Next day we got on the bus to Battambang, about 7 hours north west of Phnom Penh back towards the Thai border. After finding somewhere to stay (room 101!), the next day we set off with a remork to see the sights.
A little in line with many other places we have visited in South East Asia, and definitely in line with Siem Reap, there was an undercurrent of sex tourism here. I find myself sensitive to it, maybe because I don't like it and think it is socially and psychologically damaging. In Cambodia there is a current problem with paedophile sex tourism, which seems to have migrated from Thailand and perhaps Vietnam, where more can be done to confront it. In a country emerging from the ravages of civil war, it is not surprising that this has made its way here, but it is so sad to see, and it immediately put me off the town. We stayed one night and then caught a boat to Koh Rong, Unlike many of the Thai islands, the Cambodian islands are relatively undeveloped. This island had no roads and no motorised land transport when we visited. But it won't stay that way for long! The signs of development were clearly there. But it remains a gorgeous, relatively unspoilt paradise island with a clutch of guesthouses and bars by the beach.
It was good to unwind for a day or two, and catch our breath, although staying at the only backpackers on the island (which is built on stilts at the end of a jetty) there was some inevitable drinking action too as the zest and zeal of the younger twenty-somethings took us over temporarily. I sound old! But I have found myself shying away from the partying during this trip, except during specific times. It is partly because I feel I have been there and done that, partly because it ruins the next day with a hangover, and partly because it is something I can easily do at home. Swinging in a hammock with a book on the beach is not. Snorkelling in warm tropical waters is not. So I prefer to save the nights for sleeping and the days for appreciating the splendours of my surroundings. This time next year I'll most probably be back at work in winter in England. I'd kick myself for not appreciating what I have now. So there's my excuse for being a bit of an old codger.
Anyway, we had to leave Koh Rong after a few days because there was no way of getting money and we had run out! Forward planning fail.
I didn't think very much about Cambodia before getting on the plane from Krabi in Thailand, from where we flew into Phnom Penh. But as we approached on the plane I was aware of a sense of fear running through me, and slowly I realised that it was due to my early memories of the killing fields of Cambodia, Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge. I was scarcely born when the atrocities were actually occurring, but in the decade that followed, as the scale of the genocide emerged, I remember the horror of my parents at the images on the TV screen, which I could not comprehend, and my Mum's particularly distressed state after she had watched the Killing Fields film, which was released in 1984.
For anyone reading this who does not have any idea about the Khmer Rouge, I will briefly précis. It was a Communist revolutionary organisation led by Pol Pot and his underdogs Nuon Chea, Ieng Sary, Son Sen, and Khieu Samphan. The lead up to its emergence into power in Cambodia in 1975 is complex, but the involvement of the Chinese as funders and ideological promoters of the Khmer Rouge and the Vietnamese and American aggression in Cambodia in the years before are said to be the most important factors. At any rate, the Khmer Rouge attempted to create an entirely self-sufficient agrarian economy with strict Communist ideology in the years 1975-8. During that time people were forced from the cities to the fields; schools, hospitals, museums, shops, almost everything, was closed down and anyone who was thought of as being contrary to the ideals of Pol Pot was ejected from the country or arrested. The economic policies were an utter disaster, and thousands of Cambodians began to die of starvation and under the abuse meted out by the Pol Pot flunkies. The paranoia of the regime spun out of control very quickly, culminating in one of the most horrific periods of genocide a government has ever committed against its own people. In the paragraphs to come I'll get to some detail. But be warned, it's really not for the squeamish. I have never been both numb with horror and moved to tears by the recent history of a country so many times as I have been in Cambodia. It is truly awful, and should never be forgotten.
So, it was with my sense of foreboding that we touched down in Phnom Penh. But really the people were lovely and friendly from the moment we got off the plane. It was easy to get a remork into town (a motorbike with a trailer attached to it, sometimes quite elaborate). We found a place to stay easily and the city seemed pretty decent. I was surprised and thankful. Lots of smiles, especially on the young people we met. The older people too, but perhaps one could see the taint of traumas past on their faces too. Or perhaps it was just me. What was apparent very quickly was the number of people missing limbs. Lots of limbs. And this is another story that moves one to tears, and haunts this country today too; that of land mines. They really have been to hell and back here and I was stunned and humbled by the resilience, hope and optimism I saw. It does make me thankful for the peace I have enjoyed in my lifetime.
The term that probably describes Cambodia the best is 'faded grandeur'. There's so much to see, but most of it needs a lick of paint and a lot of it considerably more. But the crumbling Angkor temples and paint flaking off the Wats gives it a certain authenticity too. A gritty reality. Or perhaps a grim reminder of why everything is in a state of disrepair. The Khmer Rouge have so much to answer for, and in a grim reminder of just how little real justice or reckoning one sees in the world, Pol Pot died a free man in 1998 before the international community had got its act together and set up a war crimes court for Cambodia. He claimed to know nothing about the genocide.
We spent three days in Phnom Penh. On the first night we went to a restaurant that, like many other initiatives in Cambodia, is trying to do its bit to rebuild the society that was shattered by the civil war, in this instance by training children from poor backgrounds to be chefs and waiters. Just because it was there, and because when these challenges present themselves I want to be able to say I did it, we ordered a plate of deep fried Tarantulas as a starter.
And they weren't half bad actually. The hardest part is getting it into your mouth. Curiously, or perhaps not so curiously given the resemblance, it tastes a bit like crab. Earthy crab. I quite liked the taste, but the whole process of eating a large spider is not one I massively enjoyed if I am honest, even if it was deep fried. But I did it, so that's something ticked off the list. The Cambodians eat a lot of such things, understandably really. But for the rest of that evening I settled with fish amok, which is basically Cambodian fish curry. It was delicious!
Next day was our first proper day in Phnom Penh. As soon as you walk out of the guesthouse, you're immediately approached by remork drivers wanting you to employ them. They are usually keen to take you on a tour, and generally speaking, so long as you pick one who can speak your language well enough, it is a good thing to do. Often they are great people, very knowledgeable, and the journeys are adventures in themselves. Weaving in and out of traffic, driving the wrong way down the road, cruising leisurely into busy intersections with no traffic lights and lots of other similarly suicidal drivers. It really is worth the money! So much excitement/pant soiling fear for so little money. Bargain.
First to Wat Phnom, a Buddhist temple built on the only hill in Phnom Penh. A lot of Cambodia is very flat, and and this is largely because the Mekong river has spent many millennia depositing its nutrient-rich silt in the delta that interfaces with the ocean, and slowly creating a huge fertile plain which makes up much of southern Cambodia. Ideal for rice planting, this is what you see throughout much of the country, along with the dykes and waterways needed to irrigate the paddy fields. The Wat was colourful and beautiful, but not as spectacular as many I'd seen in Thailand. Perhaps more interesting was the woven Naga to the East of the Wat. The Naga is a mythical multi-headed serpent, which in Angkor mythology is either a God who controls the rain or represents the link between heaven and earth. You see their serpentine bodies on staircases and balustrades and their heads at the corners of roofs. When paired with the Garuda, a half-man half-bird creature who is also the Naga's half brother, it is meant to represent peace, as normally they are at war with each other. On many of the memorials to those killed by the Khmer Rouge, you see the Garuda and the Naga together, representing this, and as a sort of offering to the dead to calm any disturbance in their souls.
Wat Phnom, on the only hill in Phnom Penh, with the Naga in the foreground
Next to the National Museum, filled with Angkorian curios and other diverting bits and pieces, all housed a magnificent building. Then on to the Russian Market, swarming with activity, and some yummy street food. You can eat very cheaply here. This plate was about 30p.
Food stalls at the Russian market. Hygiene standards: questionable. Taste of food: amazing!
You can get anything here. Well, most things.
Worth pointing out at this stage that the Cambodian currency, the Riel, is used interchangeably with US dollars. Anything worth over a couple of dollars (8000 Riel) you tend to pay for with dollars. But you get small change in Riel. It is very confusing. In the west of the country they also add Thai Baht into the mix too just to really get your mental currency converter in a tizz. Lots of unfamiliar brand names here (as well as plenty of familiar ones), including this brand of condensed milk which, given the country has a particular problem with paedophile sex tourism, doesn't seem very appropriate.
Next that day to the Royal Palace, which was similar in feel to the Royal Palace in Bangkok, but less elaborate.
And then we started our exploration of Cambodia's grim recent past. It's worth saying at this point that the country and the people have embraced the memory of the genocide committed by Khmer Rouge with a degree of gusto that I initially found pretty disconcerting. The remork drivers would signify the killing fields to us with a hearty imitation of a machine gun. Everyone was keen to know if we had been to the killing fields yet? Would we like to go? I will take you there! It's amazing really, as many of them probably had some experience of it, or lost relatives to it. But it is now a money maker…everyone wants to see…including us. So it is really just pragmatic for them. They need to make a living, and this is something which draws the tourists in, grim as it is. So last stop that day was to the infamous detention and torture centre called S-21. It is even more grizzly when you consider that prior to the Khmer Rouge, the building was a primary school in Phnom Penh. But this, along with every other school in Cambodia, was closed in 1975 when the Khmer Rouge took power, and the children and their families forced into the countryside to realise the agrarian ideal that Pol Pot, or perhaps Mao Tse Tsung, had envisioned for the country. Tuol Sleng primary school was quickly turned into Security Prison 21, and there, between 1975 and 1978 more than 17,000 people were detained, tortured and forced to admit to crimes they probably had not committed and then taken to the killing fields to be exterminated. Whilst most of the gory remnants have gone, the place has a chilling, austere, barbaric feel to it, and walking around the exhibits and the bare rooms that were used for torture and detention of people caught in the paranoid fury of a government gone mad, you could feel the sense of persecution, paranoia, hate, cruelty, desperation and despair that must have prevailed there.
Regulations at S21.
No one was laughing.
In some rooms there was a bare bed with leg irons and a picture of the tortured remains of the last people to die there before the Vietnamese liberated Phnom Penh.
The other picture is too grim for this blog, I feel.
On another floor long rooms of detention cells, roughly built, with the occasional blood stain on the floor.
On another floor long rooms of detention cells, roughly built, with the occasional blood stain on the floor.
In another room long rows of pictures of the exterminated. Some with 'before' and 'after' torture shots. It seems the Khmer Rouge were as ruthless and systematic in the documentation of their humanitarian transgressions as they were in carrying them out.
And in another room the most appalling artistic representations of the brutal murders that were carried out against men, women and children. Usually entire families were put to death to eliminate potentially vengeful relatives. This, most chilling, picture of the how babies were exterminated in the killing fields (not for the squeamish this one- you have been warned!).
And, just in case you didn't think it was really real, bones. Lots of bones.
I left sombre. But the next day there was more to come, as we went to the killing fields of Choeung Ek, about 10km outside of Phnom Penh. I will run out of adjectives to describe this I think, so apologies for repetition.
Bear in mind that this is just the most famous of many hundreds of similar sites in Cambodia. The bodies of the vast majority of those killed will never be exhumed, and never laid to rest in any dignified way. The Khmer Rouge probably killed, give or take, 2 million of their own people. That's getting on for a quarter of the entire population. In three years. It was systematic, well-organised, ruthless and relentless. And Pol Pot denied any knowledge of it until the day he died, according to his daughter.
The site was apparently chosen because it was out of the way, so someone, somewhere had a mind to cover it up. There is a tree there called, for reasons I didn't understand, 'the Magic Tree', and on it used to be hung a loud speaker through which revolutionary songs were played at full volume night and day, in order to cover up the screams of the victims from the people who worked the nearby fields. I can't imagine what it was like to be there, but the free audio guide included in this, the grimmest tour I have ever been on, testimony from those who worked as clerks there (to make sure no one had slipped out along the way), executioners, and the few surviving relatives of those that were killed. It was numbing. I cried. So did others about me. Walking around you could see the clothes of people who had not yet been disinterred sticking up through the ground. Once I tripped, and looked down to see a hip bone shard sticking out of the ground. The bones of 8,985 people have been disinterred from this site since it was discovered in 1980, but at least 17,000 were killed here, probably more. They included women and children, entire families, babies having their heads smashed in against a particular tree, before being chucked into a pit, and the audio tour even included the testimony of the local villager who discovered the tree, with shards of bone, blood, hair and bits of brain hanging off it, when the Khmer Rouge were routed in 1978. It is more than horrific. It is worse than any nightmare. It happened 35 years ago.
Afterwards Ro and I sat in silence for a long time on a bench, before riding the remork back to Phnom Penh and getting drunk. What I found particularly disturbing about this experience was knowing that something similar is probably happening as I write this somewhere in the world. The logical conclusion must be that the potential to commit these dreadful acts, it seems, is in most of us, and if the circumstances are grave enough most of us will do anything to survive, as our ancestors had to, and as our genes must have programmed us to do. Truth can be more brutal than our worst fantasy. We like to think it would never be us who would commit such acts towards another human being. Stanley Milgram showed that most of us will.
Pause. Briefly. For something to lighten the mood. Puppies are, in my book, pretty much the best things ever. So I present two. Firstly a puppy in the hostel in Phnom Penh we stayed in. The fluffiest, softest, most cuddly puppy I've ever met. But still very fierce!
A modern stupa at Choeung Ek. Here you see the Garuda and the Naga together, as a sign of peace, and as an offering to the dead, whose bones can be seen on shelves inside.
Shelves and shelves of bones, stretching up high, in the stupa. More find their way to the surface every year and are deposited here.
The clothes and bones of the dead, slowly coming up to the surface, year after year.
The killing tree. The grimmest moment of my trip so far. People have covered the tree with wrist and ankle bands to pay their respects.
Afterwards Ro and I sat in silence for a long time on a bench, before riding the remork back to Phnom Penh and getting drunk. What I found particularly disturbing about this experience was knowing that something similar is probably happening as I write this somewhere in the world. The logical conclusion must be that the potential to commit these dreadful acts, it seems, is in most of us, and if the circumstances are grave enough most of us will do anything to survive, as our ancestors had to, and as our genes must have programmed us to do. Truth can be more brutal than our worst fantasy. We like to think it would never be us who would commit such acts towards another human being. Stanley Milgram showed that most of us will.
Pause. Briefly. For something to lighten the mood. Puppies are, in my book, pretty much the best things ever. So I present two. Firstly a puppy in the hostel in Phnom Penh we stayed in. The fluffiest, softest, most cuddly puppy I've ever met. But still very fierce!
And another puppy, this time on Koh Tao, called Whisky. Spark out from a day of important puppy-related business.
Still more genocide to come, but that's the worst of it over.
Next day we got on the bus to Battambang, about 7 hours north west of Phnom Penh back towards the Thai border. After finding somewhere to stay (room 101!), the next day we set off with a remork to see the sights.
First stop was the Bamboo Train, which is a train made of bamboo called a norry! Well, nearly; the carriage is made of bamboo, and the rest is comprised of an engine and a two sets of wheels. It rattles along a narrow gauge, bumpy track. It used to be used for all kinds of things all over Cambodia, but the Khmer Rouge shut it down and much of it has fallen into disrepair. Only this and one other line exist, and they are used to propel sensation-seeking tourists along at speeds of about 30mph from one end of the line to the other. It's lots of fun.
When two norries meet going in opposite directions the one with the least passengers has to be deconstructed and laid by the side of the track so the other can past. This takes about a minute! It's like playing trains :)
At the other end of the line we sat and had a beer and a kid made me a grasshopper out of a long piece of grass. Clever boy!
Next we went to Wat Banan, which was our first Cambodian ruin. Whilst it was nothing like what we were to see when we went to Siem Reap it was nonetheless pretty interesting. It is modelled on Angkor Wat, we were told. Lots of stairs to climb.
And back down again to visit some rather dark and ominous caves where people used to hide from the Khmer Rouge and set up a small Buddhist shrine which I didn't take a picture of so you'll have to make do with this picture of a skylight, a rather alien looking image of a stalactite in the making and a picture of the man who showed us around, who had the longest whiskers coming out of a mole I have ever seen. They were more fascinating than the cave that's for sure.
Next to Phnom Sampeau, with its complex of Buddhist temples, and another site of a major Khmer Rouge atrocity. A steep set of steps lead down to a deep cave where thousands of peoples' decayed remains were found. The Khmer Rouge used to kill them and throw them through the skylight above. Today it is a shrine, with a reclining buddha and a macabre reminder of the recent past. More bones.
The skylight where the bodies were chucked down after as were executed.
More bones (sigh)
An antidote to this was this very cute little fella who made the sweetest little squeak you have ever heard and let you pet him. I have no idea what it is and couldn't find out from the locals. If anyone knows please let me know :)
Finally that day back down the hill for an extraordinary sight that happens at around 6pm every day. Millions and millions of bats decamping from a huge cave and flying off into the evening air. The pictures don't do it justice, but I did take a video too.
Next day a series of odd little visits. First to a crocodile sanctuary. I never thought crocs needed a sanctuary but the woman here thinks they do. But it doesn't look very comfortable. 800 of them in a relatively small space. A very brave man was sitting at the far end welding the door. In full open view of the crocs. Armed only with a long piece of bamboo. VERY brave. For me, crocodiles are probably the scariest land-creatures on earth (a great white shark would scare me more underwater). We were offered the chance to hold a baby. So I did. But it wasn't a particularly pleasant experience. Tick.
Next to the 'rice paper' village where they make rice paper for spring rolls. Kind of interesting I guess. Amazing that so much work goes into something so relatively basic.
And then to Wat Ek Phnom, a Wat that was less faded than most in Cambodia, and with some beautiful illustrations of Buddhist mythology.
Next to the fish paste factory on the Tonlé Sap river! It stank! I think the remork driver was scraping the barrel a bit by this point.
A local guy shovelling salted fish in a grinder to make fish paste. Hygiene- poor. Interest- marginal. Stench- phenomenal.
However here our remork driver showed us a stall selling barbecued rats and deep fried grasshoppers.
Yes I did. And they were OK! Rat tastes like chicken, but with a sort of aftertaste similar to the smell of a rat. Grasshoppers were yummy, a sort of sweet, salty, crunchy little snackette. Nom. The Cambodians eat everything, but given their history who could blame them?
A local guy shovelling salted fish in a grinder to make fish paste. Hygiene- poor. Interest- marginal. Stench- phenomenal.
However here our remork driver showed us a stall selling barbecued rats and deep fried grasshoppers.
Yes I did. And they were OK! Rat tastes like chicken, but with a sort of aftertaste similar to the smell of a rat. Grasshoppers were yummy, a sort of sweet, salty, crunchy little snackette. Nom. The Cambodians eat everything, but given their history who could blame them?
Skinned rats, spatchcock style, ready for grilling. Tasty!
That evening we went to the local circus, which was really excellent! Local kids putting on a pretty professional performance, and more than that trying to work their way out of the grinding poverty that so many people have to live with here. Hats off to them, and money in the donation pot. I hope they go far. They deserve too :)
The next day we were off to Siem Reap. By boat! A very overloaded, uncomfortable and badly driven boat. Up the Tonlé Sap river to the lake then winding up a tributary to the outskirts of Siem Reap. It took nine hours. But it was a good chance to see Cambodian river life and some of the floating villages, which migrate according to the seasons to find the best habitats and fishing areas!
Packed to the gunnels. Passengers, luggage, fruit and veg, livestock, hardware. Everything.
Pictures of the floating villages.
The uncomfortable journey was made all the more tolerable by an hilarious German lady sitting next to us who assured us, speaking about the sun protection she had applied to her arms, that "it will be ok today because I creamed myself so well this morning". Tried not to laugh. Failed. Snickered for the rest of the journey. Juvenile and puerile of me I know, but there you are. Sorry.
Siem Reap is the diving board for the Temples of Angkor. This is the heart of the old Khmer Empire, which around 900AD included all of Laos and most of Thailand and Vietnam too. From this time the Khmer civilisation constructed, what remain to this day to be, the largest religious buildings and complexes of buildings anywhere in the world. For the next four days we were going to be fully immersed in the history of Angkor, and the religious symbology and mythology surrounding the fusion of Hindusim and Buddhism that they kept as their religion. The empire declined after about 1350, fading into memory and then to scripture and so on. But the enormous stone edifices have survived to this day, 'discovered' again by a French chap in the late 1800s. Their magnificence is presumably somewhat diminished from their heyday, but that so much has survived to this day, even in the face of the Khmer Rouge, is testament to the sheer scale and magnanimity of them. Getting off the boat there was an immediate scrummage of remork drivers trying to get you into their remorks. They know very well that if they collar you for the short journey into town then they can offer you their services for getting around the temples of Angkor. And it can't be done on foot. So we ended up with Mr Rom. Who was remarkable not only for his bashful charm, but also for his remork, which declared that he was both James Bond and Batman.
Bedlam as we try to disembark and remork drivers swamp us with offers of a 'free' ride into town.
Mr. Rom. A remarkable remork driver.
Truly a hero in disguise, and when he dropped us off at various temples I had visions of him transforming into his alter-ego and flying off to far flung cities in distress and generally saving the day before getting back in time to drive us to our next Angkorian religious erection. Well disguised indeed Mr Rom. But you don't fool me.
The first day we went to the Angkor national museum on the recommendation of the German lady we met on the boat. It was a context setter. An introduction to the bewildering array of kings and religious icons that we would come across over the next four days. Gods and Apsaras and Devi and Devadas and many more besides. The basic religion followed by the Khmer varied from different types of Buddhism to Hinduism over the course of the 400 or so years of the Khmer empire. So the temples are variously dedicated according to the religion at the time. It makes it difficult to keep up. The mythology is pretty bizarre.
Finally that day, and because you have to buy a quite pricey ticket to get into the Angkor temples, we went to the war museum. It is an old de-mined mine-field, and arranged in a neat grid is a formidable array of rusting weaponry and war-machines including a jet fighter and a Russian helicopter, which you could get into. Curators of this fine array of killing machinery are a number of war veterans, who take it in turns to show you around the site. Our guide was an eloquent, lovely man who was conscripted as a child soldier into the Khmer Rouge army when he was 14 and subsequently had his arm blown off by a land-mine.
Separated from his family when conscripted, he has never heard from any of them since. Probably victims of the Khmer Rouge, or perhaps just hopelessly displaced and traumatised, it seems unlikely they will ever see each other again, and his story was heart-wrenching. You see many, many people with missing limbs in Cambodia, and it is testament to the land mines which still blight the country today. We gave generously to those we saw with no limbs. There is no system to support them. It was the daily sombre reminder of Cambodia's recent past, and its legacy. However our guide was keen to show us around, and eagerly pointed out the grenade launcher which was used to finally destroy the T-1000 in the Terminator 2 film. You are perfectly free to handle all the weaponry here. I couldn't resist, but I'm unconvinced by my tough guy expression.
Separated from his family when conscripted, he has never heard from any of them since. Probably victims of the Khmer Rouge, or perhaps just hopelessly displaced and traumatised, it seems unlikely they will ever see each other again, and his story was heart-wrenching. You see many, many people with missing limbs in Cambodia, and it is testament to the land mines which still blight the country today. We gave generously to those we saw with no limbs. There is no system to support them. It was the daily sombre reminder of Cambodia's recent past, and its legacy. However our guide was keen to show us around, and eagerly pointed out the grenade launcher which was used to finally destroy the T-1000 in the Terminator 2 film. You are perfectly free to handle all the weaponry here. I couldn't resist, but I'm unconvinced by my tough guy expression.
I want your clothes, your boots and your motorcycle.
An old chopper!
You could poke about inside!
Boys and their toys.
And finally, to the temples of Angkor. One of the wonders of the world.
The word 'angkor' means city in sanskrit, and apparently this ancient Khmer city was recently concluded to be the largest pre-industrial city in the world. I guess it depends on what you define a city as. In this instance it is land area, as opposed to population.
The word 'angkor' means city in sanskrit, and apparently this ancient Khmer city was recently concluded to be the largest pre-industrial city in the world. I guess it depends on what you define a city as. In this instance it is land area, as opposed to population.
I did start to describe every temple we visited (eleven) but it quickly became tedious. I'm not sure it'll really mean much as a description either, as I'm no expert on the mythology or the history. I'll let the pictures do the talking! Just for my own record, we went to the following temples- Banteay Srei, Prasat Pre Roup, Sras Srang, Banteay Kdei, Ta Prohm, Beng Mealea, Lolei, Preah Ko, Wat Bakan, The Bayon, Angkor Wat, Phimeanakas, Preah Khan.
The Naga at Banteay Srei
Not sure who this chap was, but the picture is more to demonstrate the stunning, intricate stone carving seen all around these temples.
Sras Srang. Or the Royal bathing pond. Quite a bath.
Beng Mealea. The tree roots have engulfed the wall, growing around the stone, looking like a weird organic hand seizing the wall.
The monkey king at Beng Mealea
Crossing the moat into Angkor Wat, the largest religious structure in the world.
One of the bas reliefs at Angkor Wat. 800m of intricately carved stonework, forming one side of the outer wall of the temple. Astonishing.
The churning of the ocean of milk
The carvings have been worn smooth by people's hands running over them
Sunset at Angkor Wat
The view from the top of the central tower of Angkor Wat, back to the entrance and the moat. Gives you an idea of the sheer size of the place.
The central tower at Angkor Wat.
Devas and Devadas.
The Asuras and the Devas, holding the the Vasuki, and churning the ocean of milk.
The Bayon, with it's many faces looking in every direction.
Preah Khan, with its long corridors of doors
Not really necessary
Temple fatigue.
After a hard days temple trekking. Good old Mr Rom in the foreground.
The temples were entrancing. Which explains why we were engulfed in other visitors. Mostly from China, Angkor Wat alone gets over 2,000,000 visitors every year, and the number is growing exponentially. It's clearly not sustainable, as people clamber over the stones and touch the carvings they are slowly destroying it, as we did. But whatever needs to be done clearly isn't going to be in the near future, and since the stones have survived the last millennium I guess they'll survive a while longer. For the moment, aside from some hastily placed signs and a few wooden walkways, you are pretty much free to clamber about as you see fit, which does make it all the more wonderful really.
Temple fatigue set in after the fourth day. But we were off to Sihanoukville for a bit of beach exploration. Two bus journeys and two days later we hit the town, which is also the name of this southerly region of Cambodia.
Temple fatigue set in after the fourth day. But we were off to Sihanoukville for a bit of beach exploration. Two bus journeys and two days later we hit the town, which is also the name of this southerly region of Cambodia.
A little in line with many other places we have visited in South East Asia, and definitely in line with Siem Reap, there was an undercurrent of sex tourism here. I find myself sensitive to it, maybe because I don't like it and think it is socially and psychologically damaging. In Cambodia there is a current problem with paedophile sex tourism, which seems to have migrated from Thailand and perhaps Vietnam, where more can be done to confront it. In a country emerging from the ravages of civil war, it is not surprising that this has made its way here, but it is so sad to see, and it immediately put me off the town. We stayed one night and then caught a boat to Koh Rong, Unlike many of the Thai islands, the Cambodian islands are relatively undeveloped. This island had no roads and no motorised land transport when we visited. But it won't stay that way for long! The signs of development were clearly there. But it remains a gorgeous, relatively unspoilt paradise island with a clutch of guesthouses and bars by the beach.
It's Koh Rong, but oh so right!
It was good to unwind for a day or two, and catch our breath, although staying at the only backpackers on the island (which is built on stilts at the end of a jetty) there was some inevitable drinking action too as the zest and zeal of the younger twenty-somethings took us over temporarily. I sound old! But I have found myself shying away from the partying during this trip, except during specific times. It is partly because I feel I have been there and done that, partly because it ruins the next day with a hangover, and partly because it is something I can easily do at home. Swinging in a hammock with a book on the beach is not. Snorkelling in warm tropical waters is not. So I prefer to save the nights for sleeping and the days for appreciating the splendours of my surroundings. This time next year I'll most probably be back at work in winter in England. I'd kick myself for not appreciating what I have now. So there's my excuse for being a bit of an old codger.
Anyway, we had to leave Koh Rong after a few days because there was no way of getting money and we had run out! Forward planning fail.
Lots to see in Cambodia, but we were running out of time. Too much time spent diving in Thailand and the clock was ticking on our Vietnam visas. After a dash back to Phnom Penh we were on the bus to Ho Chi Minh city, Vietnam. So, 'til then my friends. I will see you on the other side.
xx
