Cambodia is sly, it isn’t first apparent what all the fuss is about but it sneakily seeps under your skin until you couldn’t think of being anywhere else.
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| The Killing Fields |
Phonm Penh is the saddest city in the world, the years of suffering under the Khymer Rouge is categorically and thoroughly documented in gruesome detail at the unassuming secondary school which was bloodily transformed into a prison and the farm land now known as the ‘killing fields’. Tuol Sleng prison has been preserved so precisely it feels still in use, like at any moment a cart load of prisoners might be marched through the front gates. Each ‘classroom’ housed an inmate, the life sized photos illustrate how innocent people were chained to a metal framed bed, often so emaciated they would stay where had been dumped by the guards, whether they were all on the bed or not. Implements of torture are still scattered, now numbered exhibits and pools of dried blood can still be seen. Just in case you forget where you were, signs on the walls warned against smiling or laughing, although how anyone could even think of a happy memory is beyond me. The atmosphere stuck to everything, even after we had left my clothes reeked of it and for days, and even sometimes now I am haunted by the images I was confronted with. The ‘killing fields’ are out of town, not far by tuk tuk and if you weren’t quite aware of where you’d just been and where you were going to it might have been considered a scenic route. At the centre of the site an imposing structure with glass walls stands, on closer inspection you see it is piled high with the skulls of those tortured and finally murdered on this land. Each tree bears a plaque with the numbers of bodies found and how they were thought to have died. Nothing makes you doubt human existence more than this, how can one human being possibly be so cruel to another?
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| Tuol Sleng |
Despite all of this, everyone we spoke to was kind and helpful, not brash like the Vietnamese nor smiling like the Thai’s but quiet and unassuming, ready and willing to help. The children touting wears in streets or on the beach were the exception to this rule, maybe reflecting the more desperate situation they found themselves in. A common sight in the bars at night were young beautiful Cambodian girls sat elegant and smiling with Western men. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to understand what kind of transaction was taking place and yet they managed to portray a stoic composure, when they walked past they did not glare, as I have experienced in so many other countries.
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| Sihanoukville Beach |
Pnomh Penh will eventually suffocate you so we headed out to the coast- Sihanoukville gets mixed reviews, I for one am an ardent fan having some of the best days, and nights of my life there. One particular day will stay forever etched on my memory. It wasn’t particularly warm or sunny, it had rained constantly the previous night but the puddles were beginning to evaporate. Instead of heading to the beach a group of us rented mopeds and decided to explore the coastal road- it wasn’t to disappoint. White sand beaches and hidden forested groves on our left and undulating fields on our right, wooden shacks and monkeys, barely another soul in sight. I don’t know what it was but I sense of anticipation and excitement sat in the pit of my stomach, none of us knew what to expect or what we might find. It was like the feeling I used to get at the beginning of the school holidays- you didn’t know what was going to happen but whatever it was, it was going to be good! Sitting on the back of that bike, wind catching my hair and slivers of sun on my face I didn’t want the road to end and for us to carry on forever, if I could have, I would have.
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