Don't Touch The Monk! - Tales from Cambodia

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So, my blogging following, (Mum) you may be wondering why it has taken me so long to update my blog. This time it wasn't (completely) my lazy fault. I managed to get 3/4 of the way into writing (which is about 3 hours and 10,000 words because i'm THat keen) and somehow managed, with a slip of the finger, to over-ride all the auto saving that the blog program does for you and wipe the entire blog except for one lowercase c left on the page. And then the blog helpfully autosaved. I was not impressed. Who in their right mind makes up a button that does that?? Which you can accidentally press??!! So after the computers betrayl I felt too hurt to contuinue blogging and left it until i could face writing it again. So here goes, i'll try and make it the work of geniousness and hilarity that it was the first time, but if this blog is naff, its all the computer's fault!

The next day we had a free morning, I had already done all the sight seeing you can do around PP, so I met with the group in the afternoon for our visit to Tuol Sleng and The Killing Fields. Our first stop was Tuol Sleng, also called Security Prison 21 (S-21.) The site was origionally a school that Pol Pot turned into the largest centre of torture and imprisonment in the country. The site was still recognisable as the site of a school, with three blocks surrounding a small playing field. It even had a climbing frame you imagine the children would have played on. This made what the Khmer Rouge did there even more gruesome because they had turned these innocent things into torture devices. There was a billboard outside the first building which listed the rules the Khmer Rouge made the prisioners follow. Most of them reffered to interrogation, while some simply stated that the prisoners could not move, even to change sitting position, without the permission of a soldier. Throughout the rooms in the lower floors were displays of the head-shots of the prisoners who were detained in S-21, almost all of the prisioners would have been very close to a horrific death and knew it; S-21 claimed 100 victims per day and those that survived torture, were taken to The Killing Fields. Estimates of the number of dead range from 1.7 -2.3 million, out of a population of 7 million; a massive number which still has a huge impact on the Khmer people today. Our guide had lost his father in the genocide and we encountered countless stories of murdered or missing relitives from the local people and other guides we spoke to about it. The genocide has resulted in a very young population; 80% of Cambodians are under 30 while 70% are under 18. Professions such as medicine and law are suffering from the lack of educated people as this was a target group for the Khmer Rouge in their efforts to create a commnuist country whose people would simply work the land without questioning the authority. They destoyed family values in an effort to instill loyalty to nothing except the revolution; showing affection for your family became a crime punishable by death. I was lucky enough to meet some lawyers working with the Cambodians to prosecute the Khmer Rouge relics that are currently free men. Unsurpisingly, wading through documents and Cambodian law is a complicated and lengthy process but will undoubtably end with some justice for the families still dealing with their loss.
After our visit to S-21 we headed out of town to see the Killing Fields. The first thing we saw on arrival looked like a clock tower which on closer inspection was a white stupa containing 8,000 skulls on shelves which were found during excavations in 1980. The stupa is a memorial to the 17,000 men, women and children who were exectued there, as being a buddhist country, the head of a person is the most sacred and needs to be oopen to the air to allow the sprirt of the person to reach heaven. Although, it was sickening to find yourself face to face with a skull of an 18yr old that still bore the evidence of a violent death for the sake of saving precious bullets. Our guide then took us round the mass graves which were simply ditches in the tree lined field that grass and clover had grown over. You could almost say that the field was a peaceful place until the historical context put all ideas of peacefulness out of your head- with labels indicating what the Khmer Rouge used the trees for, and with pieces of bone and clothing still littering the paths between the graves, the horrors of what happened there are clear as day.

After our emotionally exhausting day, we needed some good food and drink so I took the group to a local Tapas restaurant where we enjoyed piella and sangria and got to know each other a little better. We had entered the restaurant only a few hours earlier in the hot dusky air but when it came to leave, the waiters indicated to the window and suggested we stay for a little while longer if we didn't fancy a swim tonight; it was amsaloutly monsoon'ing it down! In the dash from the restaurant door to the tuk tuk we all got soaked down to our underwear, and arrived back at the hotel bedragled and sporting the drowned rat look which is all the range during the wet season don't you know?!

An early start, we left at 7am to reach the public bus station and borded our bus to Battambang. We stopped for a wee and sustinance stop at what looked like a building site on the edge of the road. Poor Cathy, (a 21yr old nurse from Adelaide) had got a dose of something nasty and had spent the first three hours of the journey throwing up and needed some more plastic bags. I was stood behind a short elderly monk in bright orange robes quietly queing, in true british style, in the line for sick bags and biscuits when Daniel, our leader, comes charging up to me; a panic striken look on his face;
"What ever you do, Don't Touch the Monk!!" he exclaims, high pitched and distressed. I blink and look down at my wrinkly friend stood in front of me; what this monk?
"I had no intention of touching the Monk!"
Had I had the sudden urge to fondle the monk, (as western tourists tend to do??) I would have been in serious buddhist faux pas territory. Being a woman, I would have been desanctifying the Monk and all his beliefs by touching him, especially if I had, somehow, managed to get my bare feet on the top of his head. In buddhist culture the feet are the most unholy part of your body, and the head the most sacred. Luckily, I don't entertain such urges, but let this fable to a warning to you, should you ever find yourself queing behing a Monk.

The next leg of the journey was delayed slightly by the Prime Minister and his 200 body guards leaving town on our route. It seems the whole village had gone to look at him, but since he was leaving, the townspeople were heading back past our stationary bus, allowing for some good people watching. The cambodian women it seems, spend a lot of time in their flowery pajamas. They clearly do not feel the need to be restricted to nightime wear only - I've been told that a person would get back from work, put their pj's on, and head out to the shops! I suppose it seems sensible in the hot climate...

On arrival into Battambang, we were free to wander so Leena (my roommate) and I headed out in Battambang to check out the local temples. We chatted to monks and played with the children. Battambang is a Cambodia's secong biggest town, surprisingly, and not at all set up for tourists which made it all the more interesting to wander round. We felt like proper intrepid explorers! That night we went to the only bar in town, and with a claim to fame - Angelina Jolie drank there when she was adopting her Cambodian child and filming stuff. Some of us got more excited about this than others, but it was a nice bar run by an Australian who moved out to the town because of the chilled-out atmosphere.

The next day we took an moto bike tour round the surrounding countryside and visited sicky rice makers, rice paper makers, palm sugar makers, fruit farms, institutes that support street children and generally got the feel of Cambodia's countryside. Every child we passed on the country roads would run out to meet us and shout Hello! I was chatting to my Moto driver who was saying that he had to give up his education to become a moto driver to support his family. This is quite a common occurance; a family will only have enough funds to send one of their children (often a son) into education and that child is then expected to pass on what he learns to his siblings and then support the family. My driver asked if we had rice paddies in England, I explained that it was far too cold and miserable to grow rice back home!
We had our evening meal at our guide's house which was a great selection of mild coconut based curry and the traditional dish; Fish Amok. The food in Cambodia was great, its all so tasty and cheap! I completely gorged myself at most meals...

The next day we headed out to Siem Reap by boat. It was a seriously long journey meant to be only 6 hours but ended up being a total of 9 bum numbing hours sat next to the loud motor of our little boat that had just about enough room to fit our group onto it!
When we had finally arrives and re-gained the use of our ears, we had got ready for our evening meal and wandered into town. Compared to Battambang, Siem Reap was completely the opposite. Although, even with bars lining each street, and a decent and well ordered night market for the tourists, Siem Reap managed to hold onto its Cambodian-ness and I liked the town alot. We spent three days touring the temples and saw the renound Angkor Wat sunrise at 5:30am, although being the wet season, it was cloudy so we didn't quite get the effect that getting up at 5am warrants, but the temple itself was still quite a sight, being the biggest religous building in the world. Later we would have a "guess the weight of Angkor Wat" competition in which none of us would get anywhere near the actual weight which escapes me, but is something near the 30 trillion tonnes, I think. Interestingly Angkor Wat is actually owned by a Vietnemese company and so very little of the $40 entrance fee goes towards the restoration of the temples, which is now mostly reliant upon foreign NGO's.
My favourite temples were Preah Ko, Ta Phrom and the Bayon. The first two were surronded by forest and in Ta Phrom, it was as if the trees were claiming the temples back as they had grown out alge and moss that coloured the stones so beautifully, and the roots had entwined themselves through out the structures. The Bayon we went round during a particularly heavy downpour and the faces carved into the speckled stone were magnificent in the rain, especially when the sunlight began to creep through the cloud.

In one of the evenings in Siem Reap, a couple of us went to a hospital run by a Swiss doctor who puts on a Cello show every saturday to raise money for his western standard hospital for children. Being a Tuesday, we didn't get to see that show but saw the film put on insted that has been made to help raise funds. It was an eye opener. Dr Beat and his hospital are completely reliant upon donations because the standard the hospital has set is "unsustainable" for a developing country such as Cambodia. The World Health Organisation, insted, pours its funds into the corrupt Cambodian government which then spends the money on Lexus's for the beurocrats and none of the funds reach the health system where its needed most. Controversially, Dr Beat critisises charities such as the Red Cross because of the beurocracy its riddled with; 70-80% of donations to the Red Cross go into administration, the very same administrators who stay in 5 star accomadation and travel first class. Whereas 80% of donations to Dr Beat's hospital are spent where they are needed; treating children in his hospital which has been proven to be one of the most efficient organisations around. With the same funds that the W.H.O has, Dr Beat could save billions of lives, the only reaosn why he does not recieve funding is because his hospital is too expensive and the western standards labelled unsustainable for the future . As you can see, I've been totally won over by the argument and bought the DVD of the film to play to anyone who will let me!
The next day three of us went to donate blood to the blood bank in response to an outbreak of hemmoraging dengue fever and eased our consciences a little at being unable to give a substantial amount of money to the cause.

Our next stop was Kompong Cham, where we would only spend a day and a night being such a small town. We spent the day cycling round the island across the mekong again, visiting local businesses and trying to wave to enthusiastic children without falling off our bikes! It was quite an uneventful visit except that on our wat back to the hotel, Daniel got knocked off his bike by a distracted Moto driver! He managed to escape lightly with only a grazed elbow and a few bent spokes!

In the Morning we wizzed back through Phnom Penh on our way to Kampot, one of my favourite stops. Kampot is a sleepy town on the banks of a river and was famous for producing black pepper which no self respecting French restaurant would have been without in the 1920's! We were there for a different reason though...Bokor Hill Station. We were very lucky to be able to see this as it had only recently been re-opened to the public. The station was an eerie abandoned site with what was a church, a casino, the royal residence and a few houses at the top of the Elephant Mountains 40km from town. We wound our way up the winding road up to the station and found ourselves leaving the warm and sunny, and travelling into the cold and misty. We stopped near the top and walked the last part through the jungle in between the roads, over tree roots and under branches. After a "leech check" we headed up to the top and took in our surroundings - it was as if we had left Cambodia entirely; we could have been wandering round moors in Britain!
Bokor hill station was origionally developed by the French as a holiday resort for civil servants. It was then over-run by the Vietnemese in the late 1940's while fighting the French for independance, then again during the civil war against the Khmer Rouge. The whole atmosphere of the place seemed to reflect its dramatic history; you could still see foundations of Vietnemese guns, and with the mist rolling in and the cold, it was a very spooky place. A few films had been shot there taking advantage of the unique surroundings and feel, City of Ghosts being the most recent.
Behind the Casino was an incredible view of the coast and a Vietnemese island, with a very low wall providing little protection from the decending cliff face below. Walking along for pictures gave Daniel serious parental fears, I'm sure my 'rents would have had a fit had they seen the drop behind!
Sadly, I think the Cambodian government wants to renovate the Casino and turn it into a hotel, so we wre definatly lucky to see it in its abandoned state.

The next and last three days were spent chilling out at the seaside town of Sihanoukville. It was a lovely place to stay with out hotel 5 minutes walking distance from the beach. Leena and I headed straight there and wre immediatly bombarded by the ladies in their pajamas trying to manicure us, with little will power to resist such pampering, we gave in. 3 hours later they were still there and the ladies had moved on from manicuring to pulling out any hair they could see on our legs by threading! They were about to move onto other, less appropriate areas to de-hair in public when we put our foot down and moved off for tea, not before offering Mel, our unsuspecting fellow traveller, to the ladies for threading so we could escape. "No no, it doesn't hurt at all..." we said as we wandered off for food! We were in trouble later!

We spent the second day on a boat trip to the surrounding islands and on the third we tried to grab a last few hours in the sun, fultile, as the beach ladies decended on us again, trying to get a bit more money out of us in the quiet wet season. On our last night in Sihanoukville, we got merry at one of the many beach bars littered along the sand. Leena and Charlie were the unfortunate victims of beach thieves- similar to my incident of leaving valubles on the beach for "safe-keeping", they left their wallets and cameras and clothes on the beach when they went for a late-night swim. Unfortunatly, the Cambodian thieves are not as genourous as the Vietnemese ones I encountered as this thief also took their clothes, leaving the embaressed and foolish travellers to walk home, in their underwear! It could have been worse, were the comforting comments they recieved the next day, they could have been skinny dipping!

Our last night was spent in Phnom Penh where we experienced the worst wet season downpour yet! The streets flooded up to our thighs and getting to the restaurant for our last meal was a mission. We had to wade through the streets trying not to pay attention to the rubbish wrapping itself round our ankles- it was too deep to get any form of transport through! But we made it, and unbeknown to me, I had been nominated to make a speech at the end of the meal. With a few rasberry daquiri's in me, I felt confident enough to model my speech around taking the piss out of my fellow travellers- giving them prizes for personality traits and comedy moments throughout the trip. Luckliy, it went down well and I got my own prize out of it and a job offer from Daniel!

Cambodia has definatly been my favourite country to visit, its only been safe to visit in the last 10 years so its behind places like Thailand in terms of tourism, which is a really good thing. The majoirity of people find that they havn't left enough time to travel round Cambodia, or just want to wizz through the capital and Siem Reap, but they're missing out! I've really enjoyed getting to know Cambodia better than most!

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