"You Never Try, You Never Know"

Eager to get home I mistakenly arrived at the airport 2 hours before my check in time, so I thought I would take this opportunity to pick up where I left off and update my blog.

After a pleasant stay in Siem Reap full of visits to the market and trips to the famous ruins of Angkor Wat I decided it was time to make my way to Phnom Penh to observe a more stark and depressing side of Cambodian history. While the Tuol Sleng genocide museum and the Killing Fields of the Khmer Rouge are by no means light hearted or even enjoyable attractions of Cambodia, I do believe that they ought to be visited by tourists as well – here visitors can pay respects and witness a more complete picture of Cambodia’s past.

I arrived after a 7 hour bus ride, after some haggling and bargaining I hopped in a tuk tuk and was on my way to the Sunday Guest house. The guest house certainly fit the budget at $4 a night, but with one glance at the room I would stay in, I was convinced that I landed myself in the bowels of Phnom Penh (I guess the price should have been my first hint). Upon checking in my primary concern was that I would have a decent Wifi connection in my room; the receptionist assured me this would be the case. Well, after being escorted to my room – not only was I shocked at the conditions, but I was upset to find that there was absolutely no connection in my room. I quickly set out attempting to find any guest house with a Wifi but wasn’t able to – so I convinced myself one night in this room may not be so bad after all. In case you’re wondering what $4 gets you in Phnom Penh: the (tiny) room consisted of a bed that was touching three of the four walls, with dirty sheets, and a ratty old towel for a blanket (stained with holes in it). Expect no air conditioning but a fan that may or may not work. The bathroom was complete with a scummy floor and a toilet covered in black grime (this is no exaggeration) it looked like it had never been cleaned – oh, and the room stunk like the pungent smell of an outhouse, an odour that would hit you like a punch in the face as you open the door. The funny thing is, I discovered this place online just before leaving for Phnom Penh; I scribbled down the name after reading a couple of positive reviews (whaaaaat?!).

At this point in my journey I wasn’t prepared to spend more than one night in Phnom Penh. I woke up to come downstairs to be approached by a tuk tuk driver. He got on my nerves quite a bit, mainly when he thought it would be appropriate to sit across from me as I ate my breakfast trying to negotiate a deal. This made me slightly uncomfortable but I didn’t have the heart to tell him to go away, though I didn’t do much to suppress how cranky I was. After wolfing down my meal in order to escape, I told him I would hire him for the day for no more than $8 (as this is a fair price). He wanted $15. Once I had enough, I told him he could think about it, and went up to my room to get ready. Knowing I would not spend another night in the Sunday guesthouse, I checked out, grabbed my things and met the driver outside. He was standing by a motorbike. I took one look at it and said “Where is the tuk tuk? I am not getting on that thing”, fellow tuk tuk drivers smiled and egged me on, “No problem” they would say. The driver took my bag from me, set it on the bike and told me to climb on. To help persuade me, he said “no time” explaining that if I wanted to make it to all of the places I wanted to see, a tuk tuk would be too slow. This indicated to me that it would be a fast ride. Finally he said “You never try, you never know”. An undeniable cliché and a fitting theme for my adventures in South East Asia. So I climbed on the back and we were on our way. The first 10 minutes were terrifying, but I liked the adrenaline rush. Weaving in and out of trucks and tuk tuks, dodging other motorcycles – traffic rules are non-existent in Phnom Penh, but this only seemed to contribute to the thrill.

The first stop was the Killing Fields. I walked through the gates to see a large stupa straight ahead, this stupa housed the bones of the tens of thousands of victims of the Khmer Rouge genocide. Inside it, 17 floors of skulls, bones and the clothes that were excavated after the genocide. Behind glass panes that were left open, laid the skulls of innocent Cambodians that were subjected to ruthless torture before being killed. Nearly all of them cracked, many with broken jaws, and each one displaying evidence of being severely beaten. I stood there completely overwhelmed. I felt shocked, slightly winded, and just appalled. Standing inside the stupa I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream, I wanted to condemn humanity for the fact that such atrocities are even possible; and for what? My jaw dropped when I stopped to examinem in disgust, the tree against which infants and children were beat to death as a measure to prevent them from ever seeking revenge against the Khmer Rouge. My thoughts raced as I walked over the rags, teeth and bone fragments of the victims and passed by mass graves. It was truly sickening. While I walked slowly and full of emotion, my mind continuously tried to sort through words that might make sense of what I was feeling; words to capture the experience; I felt entirely speechless. There are no words to describe this experience. It was heart wrenching. completely devastating. It was raw.

The next stop was the Tuol Sleng museum (S-21). Once a school, transformed into a prison, now a museum revealing the atrocities committed for the sake of political revolution. The feeling was disturbing and eerie as I walked in and out of the tiny cells where helpless prisoners were chained and confined. I spent a few minutes in a cell trying to fathom what prisoners must have been feeling – but it was hard to imagine. In this concrete cell so small I could not even spread my arms; someone was once confined for an extended period of time, left there to tremble in chains and in fear, wondering about their loved ones, and wondering when they would die. Speechless.

It was a sombre day of observing perhaps the darkest part of Cambodian history, but I felt it was important to educate myself. Often tourists visit Cambodia to casually stroll through Angkor Wat and appreciate the ancient elegance of the ruins but I think it is important that if one actually wants to learn about Cambodia, they ought to acknowledge all aspects crucial to its history.

That evening I met a new friend, Dan just before I would leave for Vietnam. He’s by far one of the most genuine people I have ever met with a fascinating story; a charming guy that I learned a lot from. We got to talking philosophy and as it turned out, we share fairly similar views on life. After some of the most intellectually stimulating conversations I’ve had in a long time it was time for me to move on. Though I could have spent hours just sitting around and philosophizing some more over drinks, I had to get going – but I was happy to make a new friend.
Finally, I had seen what I came to see in Phnom Penh and was ready to catch a bus to Vietnam. I knew I had so much more to see in Vietnam and was so excited that I couldn't wait any longer. I would start in the South and work my way up North; beginning in Hochi Minh City (also known as Saigon), and making some stops along the way up to Hanoi from where I would depart back to Tokyo for a final farewell. Another country and another adventure, for another blog.

xo