I Heart Phnom Penh

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Well, my 5 hour bus trip from Siem Reap to Phnom Penh was very- cultured. It was basically me and 6 Cambodians sharing 5 seats at the back of the bus, them I think trying to leave me as much room as possible. Or maybe I smell bad, whatever. Anyway, the movies they played on the way- I thought we'd hit rock bottom with the Christian movie on the way to Siem Reap. No. Try 5 hours of Cambodian karaoke songs. And the woman next you knowing some of them. Quite amusing actually.

Arriving in a strange city with little to no idea of where to go was quite intimidating. But talking to some other backpackers I took my chances on one of 3 areas that seemed to have big gatherings of guesthouses- the middle of the city. Never again. That place may have had cable TV, a fan and bathroom for $4 a night, but I couldn't get past the fact that a mere bedsheet strewn to hide a balcony seperated me from the large room below. Oh well, after going to dinner at a place where the waitresses were fascinated by my arm hair and eyes, it was good to sit down with the leftover Oreos and watch videoclips and good old-fashioned British shows. Oh, and I had a whole beer that night, and a long neck the next night- so proud of myself.

Next day though, I decided it was time to relocate, so I headed to the river, where I found out the rooms were terribly overpriced (like $15 a night for a single room- come on). So despite my guidebook's warnings, I headed down to the lake. I guess a lot changes in 12 years (my theory: a second-hand, totally outdated guidebook adds to the adventure).

It was so lovely by the lake. My room was big, clean and most importantly, totally enclosed by walls. It actually came straight out of the lake, on stilts. The restaurant was a a great gathering place for travellers, playing movies, with a pool table and cheap meals. And the lake itself is actually really pretty. More so than the river.

So after settling into this new haven, I set out to explore the atrocities of Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge. First to Tuol Sleng, a school converted into a prison where the Khmer Rouge brought their enemies (i.e. anyone who wasn't an uneducated farmhand- teachers, monks, athletes...) and their entire families to be tortured for 4-5 months (6-7 if you were important). After that they were sent in trucks to the Killing Fields to be killed (often clubbed to save money on ammunition).

Wow. There were rooms with the beds where people were actually tied up and tortured, with a large print photo of someone battered and tortured lying on it on the far wall. Torture weapons were often still there and able to be touched (don't worry though, they'd cleaned up the blood). There were rooms that were divided in individual cells. When I walked in I thought it wasn't toooo bad- maybe 1 metre by 2 1/2 metres, enough to pace up and down. Then my tuk-tuk driver told me later that they housed 30-50 children in one cell. How did they breath?

There were things like frames that used to have ropes for the childrens' exercies. Under Khmer Rouge it was used to hang people by their arms until they fell unconscious. The whole place was just this whole weird juxtaposition between hope and despair. There were rooms of photos taken of each prisoner as they came into Tuol Sleng- the bravery and defiance in so many of the photos was almost empowering. But then you look around and remember that pretty much all these people died. A tortured, drawn out, violent death.

In one room, there were pictures of the leaders of the Khmer Rouge at the time- all graffitied in messages of hate- a lot in Cambodian but some in French, English etc. Then you go to the room with the cells for the children and people had written on the walls about our need to do something about the atrocities of today.

It was intense. And then, going to the killing fields and seeing where the trucks unloaded the people, where they were killed, the actual mass graves. And a huge suva filled with skulls to comemorate those killed.

What makes me so angry though is the fact that I had never heard of any of this until I read up on Cambodia before coming there. I mean, Hitler is such common knowledge, and sure, what he did and the death and destruction his regime caused was terrible, but Pol Pot was, if anything, worse and also a lot closer to home. Between 1975 and 1979 he managed to destroy so much of Cambodian culture, bringing it back to the stone age- where Hitler destroyed modern art and books, Pol Pot destroyed everything- schools, books, technology, hosptials. He killed the greatest percentage of the population of any regime (I think something ridiculous like 1/4, but I might be wrong), and it largely seemed to be without prejudice- killing basically anyone who could possibly have free thought, along with their wives and children, no matter how young. Everyone else was just left to 16 hours of hard labour a day. Everyone suffered. All in the ultimate goal of creating a working man's paradise- one totally run through labour rather than modern day machines, and without education or religion. Talk about communism gone wrong. And the American's practically encouraged their behaviour. I have more than a sneaking suspicion that perhaps this is why nobody really knows about it. I'm going to stop there before I go into a real rant, but yeh- apalling.

I was ripped off by my tuk tuk driver that day, but who really cares.

Anyway, next day I went to check out the floating casino and pirate themed amusement park that was supposedly near the Hotel Cambodiana. Pirate theme park? Shut down. And it looked pretty darn cool. Well pretty darn tacky, but those things are often the same. I wandered around the grounds of the Hotel Cambodiana for ages, but alas, concluded after searching the riverside all along it, that there was no floating casino. How disappointment abounds.

Anyway, on my way to the National Museum, this Australian comes up to me and tells me about how he was taking a tuk tuk to the Royal Palace when he asked his tuk tuk driver to stop while he went to get something to eat at the market. He got off and the driver drove off with everything- his bag, including his wallet, before he could get them out. I gave him $4 to get to his guesthouse so he could get his passport, and thus be able to have money wired to him.

Then I got to thinking. Why was I so easily able to give this man $4 when, if in theory, several hours of walking would have eventually gotten him to his guesthouse and to large amounts of money? I mean, giving 200 riel (the equivalent of 50c) to a beggar was something I did maybe once a day. And they have nothing and no way out. I was actually quite disgusted by myself. On the way in to the National Museum I bought a book about Pol Pot from an amputee (it seemed appropriate given that the Khmer Rouge planted and continues to plant landmines all around Cambodia), and then at lunch I gave to the 2 beggars that approached me. It still didn't seem right though. I think buying the book was a good thing. But I think when I get home, I'm going to sponsor a Cambodian kid or something. Because in reality, random donations really aren't going to do much. I felt better about giving away a bottle of water to a young Cambodian girl at the killing fields than I did about giving the equivalent in money to a young boy at lunch. It's not that I think he'd waste it, or even care what he does with the money. There's something so impersonal with money. I don't know...

Oh yeh, National Museum. Alright. Mainly has the scuptures taken from Angkor before they could be stolen, but also some other cool things like a really old loom, spoons with handles that were dragons biting them and stuff like that. I just love how even the bobbin of the loom was intricately carved. It just seems to me that Cambodians aim to make everything as beautiful as possible, and value hard work, where as westerners tend just to value money.

I guess that's why I liked this place so much. It definitely made me think, and is quite sad to see how westernised a lot of this place has become, but with such national pride in their heritage (Cambodia being the only country with a building on their flag- Angkor), I don't think their culture could ever be totally spoiled. And even the tiniest glimpses are beautiful to behold.

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Photos

A trag-arrr-dy in itself
Images of a pirate themed amusement park shut down... perhaps not up there with the brutal murder of 1/4 of a country's population, but a tragedy nonetheless.

A Torture Room
This is one of the rooms where people were tied to the beds and tortured. The frame in the corner is a picture of the 'survivor' they found when the place was raided. On the bed are the actual torture devices they used. Intense.

No Laughing (?)
This sign was plastered here and there around Toul Sleng. Obviously I can't read Cambodian but I think it was either saying no smiling, laughing, or possible shouting. It's hard to tell. Trust me, the signs weren't really necessary.

Torture Tool
Many people were killed by having this driven through their skull. A lot of killing was done in this sort of brutal way, to save on ammo. I touched it. Not a place to take the kids, I'll say that much.

A Cell
One of those cells, where ridiculously large amounts of children were kept crammed together. Looks a little small, eh?

A Mass Grave
An example of the signs that stood outside each mass grave at the killing fields. This was the one at the entrance.

The Stupa
The stupa, filled with the cracked skulls of victims, which is kept as a reminder and proof of the atrocities performed. In Buddhism, bodies are supposed to be cremated for the soul to be released, so it is real point of argument whether this skulls should be here. Though incense and other offerings are made.