Hong Kong to Bangkok summer 2002 - Part 6
Somewhere on the murky, brown waters of the Mekong, we left Vietnam and entered Cambodia. Our thin, narrow motor-boat, laden with packs and people, ran on and on in the heat, until stopping at the most arse end of nowhere feeling border post I have ever passed. A collection of rickety shacks on stilts rising out of the mud, and a whole lot of emaciated chickens pecking around the "Border Area Quarantine Station". Nonetheless, a heavily uniformed man checked our visas, stamped our passports and waved us through. Back on the boat we sped on to the capital, Phnom Penh.
AN EYE OPENER IN PHNOM PEHN
After a long, steaming hot couple of days boating through the Mekong delta, we were looking forward to putting our feet up in the city. What we encountered had a bit of the feel of the Wild West, mixed in with long relaxation sessions, kicking back at our hostel decking on the lake.
Before I get to that, a quick word on the Khmer people. From the moment we arrived until our departure, every single local we met was welcoming and wonderfully friendly. I have never encountered such warmth anywhere else in the world and that, above all else, is why I fell hook, line and sinker for this country. This may in part have been a classic case of a country being extra welcoming after years of isolation, but it must also result from the inherent culture. I loved the place and especially the people.
Back to the Wild West. In many respect I found Phnom Penh a pleasant, comparatively chilled out city (at least by SE Asian standards). We took some enjoyable walks, perusing the markets, strolling the streets up to the river and by the palace. We also saw sizeable shanty towns and some serious poverty. Cambodia is a very poor country, recovering from years of turmoil.
The crazier times occurred at night. To call the nightlife seedy was an understatement and it was a real shock to a green 20 year old boy.
As with much of the region, the bars were frequented by scores of prostitutes, trying somehow to make a living. After making it clear that we were not interested in their services, we hanged out with the girls playing pool and chatting about our respective lives. They had a tough time. Many of them were from small villages, taken away from their families at a young age to ply the trade to the profit of others. It was clearly a precarious, difficult life, and you could see how the older girls were hardened, throwing on the extenuated smiles as old western guys passed, before dropping them in a flash
The most shocking part to me was the age of many of the girls. One night, we followed others to a club called "The Heart of Darkness". It was sickening and we did not stay long. Old white men picking up very young girls. I will never forget this old fat man with a beard who resembled Father Christmas, with a girl on his knee who did not look more than 12. These bastards travel half way across the world to do things that they would be ashamed of and locked up for at home. I was later told Gary Glitter frequented the place. Enough said. Disgusting.
At this time Phnomn Penh seemed to attract a number of travellers pushing their limits to sketchy and beyond. As well as girls, this involved copious amounts of drugs. Our nightly ritual involved asking two Canadians blokes at our hostel what they were partaking in that night. They were taking advantage of the ease of getting illegal and prescription drugs to try everything and anything. The one that took me aback the most was rohypnol. They were bloody date raping themselves. Strangely enough they remembered nothing the next day.
Our nights would end sitting out on the deck, chilling out and reminiscing on the strange place we found ourselves. One night I fell asleep there, to awake to my feet being destroyed by mozzies. I counted 26 bights on foot. It was excruciating and, for days afterwards, putting my feet in my boots at was sick making.
THE KILLING FIELDS
We took a day trip to the Killing Fields. In case you are not aware, from 1975 to 1978 Cambodia was the scene of one of the most deplorable regimes in the history of mankind. The Khmer Rouge and their leader Pol Pot took inspiration from Maoist China and sort to impose an extreme view of communism. Along the way they were responsible for the death of an estimated 2 million people, around a quarter of the population. Their purges included minorities and intellectuals. Infamously, speaking a foreign language or even wearing glasses could be enough for a death sentence, being clear signs of deplorable intellectualism.
We found some "guides" who took us to one of the most famous Killing Fields, just outside of the city. We got their on mopeds, desperately trying to hang on the back along the bumpy roads. By the time I arrived, I was not sure if I wanted to be there.
Now grassed over, we walked past the pits where humans were slaughtered. Men, women and children. A guide from the site explained in some detail how, who and why. All aspect were shocking, but perhaps the why most. Ideological evil. At length we made it to the memorial. Rising high was a tower topped by a pagoda type structure. It had glass doors and, as we approached, it became clear what is housed. Skulls. Thousands upon thousands of the skulls of the murdered. I wanted to be sick.
Afterwards we went to the remnants of the prisons, where internees were tortured for information before being murdered. You could still see the chains. Somehow it made me feel hollow to see the depths of humanity so close up. I was close to tears.
On departing, our motorbike guides asked us if we wanted the optional add-on to the tour. "You want to shoot guns?". Believe it or not, tourists regularly follow up seeing the horrors of the Killing Fields by going to shoot some stuff. I understand that AK-47s are the standard fair, but anything is on offer if you have the cash. The going price was USD 200 for shooting a cow with a rocket launcher.
Strangely enough we declined. I could not think of anything I wanted to do less at that moment then to shoot something. Sickening. Why would someone want to shoot a gun after witnessing a memorial to genocide?
ANGKOR
After the best part of a week, we left Phnom Penh, headed for the renowned marvels of Angkor. We travelled by speed boat. Up the river and then right across the Tonle Sap on what felt like an epic voyage. Sunburned and a bit worse for wear, we crossed half the country, travelling some 300 km hanging on to our rucksacks amongst the spray.
It was a fantastic journey. Hour upon hour through the thick, muddy waters, passing locals fishing in their narrow boats, thick jungle, padi fields and houses. The Tonle Sap is a remarkable lake, expanding with the seasons from 2,500 km squared to some 16,000. We were in the midst of the wet season and at it was so vast that points I could barely see either bank. We were skimming across a sea of brown, the engines screaming, the spray sprawling.
At long length, we arrived in Siem Reap, the dingy town which is the staging point for one of he wonders of the world. The ruins of the ancient city of Angkor.
The surrounding region was host to the great capital of the Khmer Empire, at the height of its power from the 9th to the 15th centuries. The remains of the city are vast, and once held a population of up to a million people. Most of the structures are now gone, built of wood, but left behind are the skeletons of over a thousand temples, from rubble to the largest religious monument in the world.
A fair portion of the excitement of visiting Angkor is the surroundings. Much of the area is covered by thick, sticky jungle. We spend 3 days scrambling around the dirt roads on the back of mopeds from temple to temple. We felt like Indian Jones or Lara Croft. We were free to roam all over the amazing structures, while heeding warnings to not walk far into the bush, due to the millions of landmines that still litter this torn land.
Highlights for me included riding through the great ceremonial gates, topped with giant heads, and climbing around the trees that have literally enveloped Ta Prom, roots sprawling over the stones as the forest fights back. We must have visited 20 plus temples. They kept on coming, full of grandeur and wonder. It was not only the scale, but the detail, with nearly every stone covered in careful carvings. Originally Hindu, and latterly Buddhist, we found an array of gods and peoples strewn all over the temples. It was intoxicating.
Taking a walk across the grass (to avoid the bush with a landmine sign), we had a rather jumpy encounter. A small snake reared up ahead of us and hissed with menace. Not half a meter away from us, I jumped two back as it struck out to bight. A close escape. We moved on to yet another temple buzzing.
The crowning glory of Angkor is Angkor Wat. Quite simply the most remarkable temple I have seen in the world. Over 800 years old, surrounded by a 5 km moat, is a vast complex of walls and galleries, rising to a series of extravagant crenellated peaks. It is a whopping 65 m tall and is simply overwhelming as you cross the moat and pour into its innards.
We had the luxury of spending hours at the temple. In the late afternoons it was nearly empty. So much so, that I spent a lazy hour flipping between sleeping and the view, lying back on one of the upper terraces. It was a thrill every time I glanced out to the jungle and beyond.
On our last afternoon, we were drenched by the heaviest rainstorm I can recall. Soaked to our pants and beyond. Even our passports were drenched, ink worryingly running on the visas. We rode through it screaming wildly on the back mopeds, before it mercifully stopped and we we rode and then climbed up to Phnom Bakeng.
Another impressive temple, this time atop a hill, providing a vista of temples rising out of the steaming jungle, fields and the remains of the vast reservoirs built by the Khmer. By half coincidence (we had been trying to meet) we bumped into Rachel, the NZ wicker witch who we had travelled with us through China and North Vietnam. It was a stunning place to catch up. Chilling out, looking out over a green world doused with the fire of the sunset and, of course, Angkor Wat itself.
THE WORST HANGOVER OF MY LIFE
To cap our amazing couple of weeks in Cambodia, we went out for one final big night out in Siem Reap. Somewhere along the way we met a Czech guy who, at least at first, seemed very friendly. He bought out some special Czech fire water he had been saving in his backpack and we downed it. Hitting the bars rather cut, we started to notice a less positive side.
The guy would make odd, negative remarks about the bar girls. Insinuating bad treatment of them. He hooked up with a prostitute and, while they were sitting, was rude and pushy. This concerned both Felix and I and, when the Czech had gone to the bar, we quickly warned her and urged her to make a runner. We paid her USD 10 (double what she was due to be paid by him) by way of recompense and begged that she stay away from him. She left and when he returned we made some excuse and pushed on with the night until dawn.
Walking back to our hostel at first light, we saw her slipping out his room. Perhaps a lesson there, but at least she looked OK.
An hour later and we were on the 12 hour bus over to Thailand and on to Bangkok. Not long after embarking the hangover kicked in. I do not know what on earth was in the Czech stuff (or god knows what else we were drinking), but I was violently sick. A headache beyond hell and guts full of acid.
What I remember of that road was pure agony. Quite possibly the worst road I have ever gone on, divots, pothole after pothole and skiddy mud. It was bloody hot, humid and just wanted to crawl into a ball and leave this world. According to Felix, I moaned on repeat, smashing the perspex window that was my only sanctuary. Serves me right.
Finally, thankfully, we made it to Thai border. Perhaps out of sympathy for the destroyed looks on our faces, the Cambodian guards ignored the unreadable date stamp on our visas and let us through. What lay ahead was smooth, tarmacked roads and one hell of a weekend in Bangkok. Cambodia, had though been one hell of a crazy time...
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