Advertisement
Published: January 7th 2013
Edit Blog Post
Off the Rails
A fascinating read for any visitor to the strange world of Phnom Penh. I didn't expect much heading to Phnom Penh. Even the typically gushing Lonely Planet guidebooks struggle to sell it. However, I was pleasantly surprised and more. We didn't stay particularly long, but the city felt like a place with a million tales to tell, most of them horrific. That, in my mind at least, made our 36 hours there intensely interesting.
Arriving off the bus from Saigon we were greeted by a tuk tuk driver bearing a piece of paper with my name. Cambodian tuk tuks differ from most other national variants in being carriages retrofitted to whole motorbikes, as opposed to purpose built three-wheel affairs. It was soon apparent that our driver didn't have the first clue where our hostel was, but after some lively discussion with a fellow driver, and some helpful input from my basic knowledge of its address, we found it soon enough.
There we were greeted by a wiley old English fellow who appeared to be running the hostel. Charged with his invaluable advice, and after dumping our bags in the dorm that consisted of mattresses on the floor, we were soon back out and eating lunch on the surprisingly pleasant waterfront. It was
S21 Jail Cell
Preserved in its original state, with the gruesome remains found here pictured on the wall. then back onto a tuk tuk, whose services we chartered for the rest of the day for $13.
Our first destination was to be the infamous S21 prison, nowadays preserved as a reminder of the atrocities of the Khmer Rouge. However on the way we passed Royal Palace, which looked from the outside as decadent and bejewelled as Bangkok's Grand Palace. Similarly the leafy boulevards and colonial architecture did much to betray the images of the ravaged, dusty bowl I'd expected of Phnom Penh.
The prison itself brought us back to down to earth with a bump. Although merely the preserved buildings of the school turned gaol, there was an atmosphere that perhaps gave away the relatively recent timing of the events. No doubt the remaining blood stains on the floor, and the evidence of the meticulous record keeping by Pol Pot's cadres of all those who passed through the prison, including photographs of every inmate, added to the somber feel. Of the thousands that passed through the prison, seven survived. Seven. Most of those that didn't die at the prison were killed at our next destination.
If the sunny half hour ride from Phnom Penh had
Killing Fields
Visible are the death pits and the beautiful stupa, holding the remains found. in anyway tempered the feelings of sadness inspired by S21, the Killing Fields reignited them and then some. Guided by easily the best audio tour I have had at any museum anywhere, the fields were the perfect mix of political, poignant, repugnant and enlightening. From pits in which bones still petruded from the ground, to the tree in which babies were smashed, and the stupa containing thousands of skulls and other bones, the fields were an utterly graphic reminder of atrocities that are perhaps not given the airing they deserve in the west. In fact, despite murdering two-thirds of the population, the Khmer Rouge were thought of as the preferred rulers of Cambodia by much of the west, including Thatcher's Britain. Realpolitik indeed.
The most chilling part of the audio tour was when the propaganda songs played by the regime to cover up the impending slaughter to those awaiting their fate, were replayed. The ghostly tunes, mixed with the sounds of generators that were used to provide electricity to illuminate the killings were the last sounds heard by thousands of innocent people. It was positively frightening to hear again. At the same time, none of this apparent gore was
Skulls in the Stupa
Just a tiny proportion of the remains found. ever gratuitous. It fitted perfectly with the honest retelling of what went on. And despite the horror, the fields, and the stupa containing the bones, were peaceful areas of reflection as much as an eerie remnant of one of humanity's darkest periods.
After bidding farewell to our brilliant tuk tuk driver, who had waited for us as we toured both S21 and the Killing Fields, we went to Phnom Penh's waterfront night market. There, we had some absolutely brilliant street food, perhaps the best of the trip. I replaced my ailing flip flops, and Sophie browsed the plentiful stalls, free from the Vietnamese pressure to buy. We then settled into an ex-pat's type place for a few Angkor beers, before the heavens well and truly opened. Heavy rains always sound heavier on a tin roof, but despite sitting beneath one, the sound was just as loud from the water hitting the pavement, it was such a downpour. Nonetheless it gave us an excuse to sink an extra beer and purchase a copy of Amit Gilboa's 'Off the Rails in Phnom Penh', which gives a fascinating insight into the lives of ex-pat's in south east Asia's most dysfunctional city about
Our Driver
And the rather comfortable Cambodian style tuk-tuk. a decade ago. The name of this blog is homage to the book that provided us much context to Phnom Penh and rest of the Cambodia. But far from being off the rails, by the time the rain had abated and we had dodged the very angry dog on the way home, I found myself thinking that our day in Phnom Penh had been the surprise package of the trip.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.139s; Tpl: 0.016s; cc: 9; qc: 43; dbt: 0.0877s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.1mb