15.06.15
Travel Day
Our early rise turned into an even earlierrise for me, thanks to people checking out at the break of dawn and not considering the acoustics of our hotel. After breakfast, we walked, fully loaded with bags on our back and front, for half an hour to the bus station in the backpacker area. Our bus was bright red and our seats all the way in front – traveling with a view (including the giant flatscreen tv). Right at the beginning, they collected our passports and asked for 35$ for the visa (though not for me since I’m traveling on my Philippine passport). We had read about this little scam beforehand and knew that the 5$ extra “visa processing fee” meant they would put our passports in a little basket for the duration of the trip and hand them over to be processed at the border. We didn’t protest though, since we had also read about travelers who decided to take care of it themselves and then ended up paying 8$ extra at the border (the “processing fee” of Cambodian immigration officials) or ended up being left by their bus out of spite.
We crept along at a comfortable 50km/h, between sleep and Rush Hour 2.
At the boarder, we watched our 5$ at work – arrival cards were filled out and the visa application form for foreigners (including a signature – haha, Mo’s read “Willy” in fancy script writing). Our passports were handed over in bulk and we stood waiting for our names to be called. It was a strange and uncomfortable feeling being at an official immigration point without passport in hand. After all Vietnamese and Cambodians, I was called. The foreigners had to wait. On the other side, we got back into the bus and drove for 100m and got out again. The first stop had been for the Vietnamese to check if we hadn’t overstayed our visas and now it was time to officially enter Cambodia. Same procedure. Only I had kept my passport and was able to go through immigration all by myself. The old lady, that kind of reminded me of the secretary character in Monsters Inc., barked at me for taking too long with the scanning of hand and fingerprints.
It is a funny system, this boarder crossing ordeal by land. Due to the scams on both sides, for them to earn an extra dollar or two (or five or eight), the records of foreigners entering the countries are almost all incorrect! They don’t have any pictures, as it is actually required, and all signatures don’t match the passports. Oh well… their problem, I guess.
Right behind the border, we drove by one casino after the next. One more hideous and less inviting than the other. We stopped for lunch, which required pushing yourselves in between a crowd hovering around a table and pointing at a dish, which was then plated and thrust into your hands. It was pretty good. When we finished, a Imelda-Marcos-lookalike with a fat wad of bills in her hand came to our table and collected our cash – half in US Dollar, half in the few Cambodian Riel that I had.
The rest of the drive lead though more or less rural roads, dusty and muddy at the same time. A blue sign that read “The People’s Party of Cambodia” errected every 100m or so. A reminder perhaps? The next movie screening was – once again – a Jackie Chan movie. If I remember correctly, many busses (and ferries) in the Philippines like showing them as well. Is it an Asian thing? Is it a bus driver thing? Either way, it’s quite funny.
Our first Tuk Tuk ride from the bus station to our guesthouse showed that there are definitely more cars – and fancier cars, and cars with strange brands I have never even heard of – than in Vietnam.
The Top Banana Guesthouse welcomed us with a glass of iced water and the warning that our room is near the stairs and the bar is open till 1am. It also faces the street. But for 8$ a night – whatever. It was comfortable and clean enough, had a working fan, curtains and was close enough to the bathrooms.
Our first agenda in Cambodia – walk down the promenade along the Tonle Sap river. To get there, we passed the Independence Monument and walked along the wide, green island, where people exercised and hung out and monks in orange robes and yellow umbrellas strolled around barefoot. Feeling a bit peckish, we bought two sticks of barbeque from a street vendor and enjoyed them on our walk. Chicken, a bit fatty, delicious marinade…and a little bone. Hmmm. I waited until Mo had finished the last piece before stating that our first Cambodian food had been BBQ-chicken-butts!
Along the way we saw many construction sights, smelled new smells and noticed the diverse faces of the Cambodian people. Many laughing children and dressed up ladies – definetely not as covered up as in Vietnam. Men passing woven balls or expertly passing a local version of the hackeysack with impressive backwards flicks, sending it soaring from behind. At the beginning of the promenade stood many stalls selling lotus flower arangements in young coconuts – offerings for the busy bustling temple a few meters down. Fortune tellers sat along the pavement, encircled by clouds of incense, tossing candy on the streets. Vendors carted around coolers with cold drinks and baskets full of steamed snails. The buildings were intricately designed Cambodian-style or built with balconies in old French-colonial style. We strolled slowly and took it all in, feeling somehow more comfortable and at ease than in HCMC. Many people spoke English (more or less) and exhuded a more welcoming and friendly atmosphere – like they seemed to enjoy the presence of foreign tourists more.
It got dark and we got hungry. We stopped at a place known for good pizza and Khmer food alike. My green veggie curry was excellent. We washed our meals down with 50cent beer and fresh passion fruit soda. Since the nightmarket was closed, we walked home, this time using smaller streets. After an alley of Happy Girls, Happy Men, Happy Ladies, Double D, Same Same But Different bars and uhm massage parlours, we walked by a closing market where an abundance of fantastic smelling food was being sold. Crickets and larvea, chicken heads and many unidentifiable goodies included.
16.06.15
Rise and shine – Phom Penh awaits!
After a night which definitely showed that the warnings about our rooms were valid – even earplugs weren’t a match for the backpackers’ nightlife going on above us, we had an overpriced breakfast at the hostel and walked to the Genocide Museum Toul Sleng, also known as S21 prison.
With the sun beating down and much of the city not made for pedestrians, we wove ourselves through cars, bikes, construction sights, food stalls, piles of garbage and the occasional person. Coming down the road, you can spot the museum – formerly a prison – formerly a school – from afar. A wall with thick barbed wire surrounding off-white-washed buildings gives it away. A strange atmosphere surrounds you the second you step in. The buildings surround a courtyard – imagine a typical Asian school setting. But instead of playing children (though while we were there, a school outing was taking place), there are grave-like memorials, well kept greenery and a former jungle gym that had been modified to “the gallows”, a torture instrument from which prisoners were strung up by their feet and dipped into barrels of filthy water. The classrooms have yellow and white tiled floors and in some even a chalkboard remains. As we wander from room to room, up three floors and from building to building, the true extent of the horrors that took place here unfold. From visuals – such as iron framed beds with shackles, rooms divided into 0,8x2m cells by brick or wooden walls, suspicious stains on the bright floors and the many many rows of photographs of prisoners… To the mental – knowing you are actually in a school (all of which were shut down 24h after the Red Khmer revolution), imagining and feeling the atrocities that took place on the ground you walk on, knowing that all (except a literal handful) the people on those photographs were tortured and killed in the most inhumane ways… It was draining. The Pol Pot regime and reign of his Khmer Rouge began on April 17 1975 and lasted just under 4 years. That makes it around 40 years ago. Though the numbers vary, the estimated death toll in this wannabe-utopian socialist era lies between 1,6 and 3 million people. Meaning, of the Cambodian population of 8 million at the time, it is said that every 4th person was killed. Academics and anyone from the more developed cities were enemies of the state. From one day to the next there were no more schools, universities, hospitals, religion was forbidden, currency invalid and ownership anulled. Everyone was evacuated from the city within a day of the Khmer Rouge entering Phnom Penh and forced to work in the countryside. Only those who worked ate. And those who ate, ate next to nothing. People were killed for picking a piece of fruit or trying to supplement their diet of rice with a frog they caught. Even the poor farmers, who supported Pol Pot and his dream of a state in which all were equal, were off worse than before. Khmer Rouge soldiers were recruited as teenagers and forced to carry out every order, in fear of severe punishment if they didn’t. Innocent people were randomly accused of being CIA or KGB agents and tortured till they admitted it. If someone was found guilty, their entire family was imprisoned and killed – “No gain in keeping, no loss in weeding out”. Trying to wrap your head around this history and those figures is excruciating. Today, many Cambodians still suffer from having lost family and friends to starvation, illness and murder. Many people remain missing, families unsure of what had happened to them. Two survivors from the prison (two of seven!), both artists, sit in the museum grounds, ready to tell their tale. What a thought.
We left with heavy hearts, anger and not quite understanding (or wanting to understand) it all and first had find a place to sit and digest what we just experienced.
Dark clouds and the longing for some positive vibes made us postpone our trip to the Killing Fields. Instead, we visited the Royal Palace and Silver Pagoda complex in the city center. A stark constrast. Here we found beauty and culture and richness beyond belief. Light rain accompanied us all afternoon, a welcome change after the intense heat of the morning. Tuk Tuk driver laughed at us, as we refused all rides and enjoyed the drizzle.
One shrine more beautiful than the other, the pagodas intricately decorated, gold glimmering everywhere. The impressive buildings with their colorful roofs and well kept grounds were fascinating. Though I must say, the throne of the king did not look very comfortable ;) In the Silver Pagoda stood a lifesize Bhudda (the young, skinny version) made of 90kg of gold and encrusted with over 2000 diamonds, the largest ones having 20 and 25 carats. The floor is covered with 5000 1kg heavy silver tiles and the rest of the pagoda is filled with more bhudda statues, gifts from representatives of other countries and all in all – endless riches!
It was barely 4pm, but our legs were heavy and our backs tired. We planned our next days and onward travels and crashed early (only to be woken by an endless hoard of backpackers – pub crawl maybe? – making their way into and then out of our rooftop bar. Flirting and squealing, pumping up the music and continuing the party on the street. I wish I could sleep like Mo.)
17.06.15
Choeung Ek – The Killing Fields
The morning heat – thanks to a blackout – got us on our feet. We had breakfast in a little vegetarian café down the road, that we had found and had dinner in the evening before. A Tuk Tuk diver followed us there – talk about persistant – and in the end, we agreed to hop on for the ride to the Killing Fields. The road was dusty and smelly, a constant whiff of trash and stagnant water in the air. Just like Toul Sleng, Coeung Ek was quite confronting. The set up for tourists was well made, a memorial stupa and little museum the only added buildings on the grounds. Aside from that, you were left to wander the area on designated paths. The entrance fee included a very well made audio guide. Due to the fact that everyone had headphones on, the atmosphere was quiet and peaceful. The structures that once stood on the grounds had been removed by people that needed building materials after the liberation or expressed their anger toward the regime by demolishing all that reminded of it. In their place stood simple wooden signs explaining what had once stood there. All of the information was given via the audioguide. Craters, now largely covered in grass, indicated some of the over 160 mass graves in the area. Only some where excavated. Many still remain covered in the nearby fields. Some of the excavated mass graves are enclosed by simple bamboo structures and covered by thatched roofs. The ground in these are covered in money and the bamboo poles in colorful bracelets. The voice in your ears tells a very comprehensive history of the Pol Pot regime, supplemented by accounts told by survivors and former Khmer Rouge soldiers. It makes it quite personal and deep.
Even between the chapters, walking from one shady tree to the next, words for real conversation are missing. Being on the grounds where systematic killings of hundreds of people a day took place, walking amongst their unmarked final resting places and not knowing how many more lie right beneath your feet… Thoughts like those don’t leave room for small talk.
On some paths, bits of cloth stick out of the ground – clothing of bodies still buried. When you look closer, fragments of bone peek out as well. Every few months, the employees of the memorial site gather up more bones and teeth and pieces of clothing that have emerged due to rain and erosion. It is a very constricting feeling and somehow you tread very lightly when walking around.
A map on our flyer shows where in Cambodia they have unearthed mass graves and prisons, some too remote or dangerous (due to landmines) to reach. Strange how mere colored dots on a 3x3cm map can send chills down your spine.
The most gut-wrenching sight, that constricted my breath and brought tears to my eyes was the Killing Tree. A beautiful large old tree that one cannot blame for its history. It was used to kill babies, by hurling them against it, before tossing them into a nearby mass graves reserved for the young and women. The bark was covered in bracelets, paying respect to the souls of the innocent and acting as a veil, as if to cover up this tree’s gruesome history.
It was during this tour that I found out what had become of the instigators of this horrid period in Cambodian history. So far, only the head of S21 prison has gone through a complete trial and found guilty of genocide, war crimes and crimes against humanity. He is also the only leading acteur that has admitted and shown remorse for the things he has done, taking the responsibility for over 10.000 deaths. He got 35 years in prison. Many others are still on trial. Only now. Research and Investigation still ongoing.
Pol Pot and many of his Khmer Rouge fled to Thailand after the liberation by the Vietnamese. He remained the recognized (by Western countries such as GB, Germany, USA, France…) leader of Cambodia for many more years. Him and his party even got a seat in the UN. Only ten years after leaving Cambodia was he put under house arrest. He lived a good life with his family until he died at the ripe age of 73 (1998). More than unjust if you ask me.
The tour ended at the memorial shrine, a tall tower with glass walls from which more than 5000 skulls stare out. You can go in. Squeezed between the outer wall and the glass behing which the bones are marked according to the weapon used to kill that person – it is a very in-your-face experience.
Again, we left feeling sad, angry and utterly baffled at the lines human beings could cross and acts they could committ. How and Why – questions we asked ourselves over and over again.
We were dropped off at the Central Market, a star shaped market building selling everything and anything. We found what we were looking for quite quickly – not interested in watches or clothes – good cheap food! From there we walked to Wat Phom, a temple on a hill, said to be the birthplace of the city. Too bad the park surrounding it was completely dug up and being worked on. It kind of killed the atmosphere.
Wat Ounaloum, another buddhist temple close to the Royal Palace, was closed, but even then, far more atmospheric. Thanks in part to the looming black clouds rising up behind it. By the time we got to the square in front of the Royel Palace, rain was inevitable. We had just enough time to watch children play amongst the thousands of pidgeons, the yellow tiles gleaming against the charcoal sky, before the heavens opened up the floodgates and it poured. We hid behind a fat trunk of a tree with some locals and waited. And waited. And waited. Why didn’t we pack our rain jackets again? After some time, we decided to hop into a Tuk Tuk and head back to the Central Market to eat more street food. Fried fat noodles with greens and beef – by far the best meal we have had so far! And a baguette sandwich, sitting on kindergarden-size stools under a large umbrella with three generations of cambodians ladies.
By the time we were finished, it was semi-dry and we walked home and called it a night. We had moved into a dorm and accordingly, didn’t sleep much. After the bar closed, some guy thought it funny to wake his sleeping friend a few beds down – therefore waking up the entire room. And from the outside, we unwillingly became part of conversations like “Oh my god, I knew you were Swedish, you’re so blond!” and “Happy travels, take care, see you one day in Swiss-land!”. Oh well, that's backpacking for ya!
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