We left Battambang at a very civilised 10am and boarded our lime green locals bus to Phnom Penh. A journey which would take us 6 hours. I had more to be thankful on this journey, as although the comfort was identical to our journey from Siem Reap to Battambang, the DVD player was broken for most the journey, so we didn't have that squealing music. We arrived into Cambodia's capital at about 4pm as we were supposed to.
On arrival the rain was pouring it down, and I can't understate this rain. I know you will say "you're from Britain Chris, you should be used to rain". Not like this, I'm not. The bus parked in a puddle and fighting the rain we also had to walk past hundreds of tuk tuk hawkers, agressively selling a ride. Of course we wanted our bags and in going round the other side, one tuk tuk driver had taken it upon himself to carry Sarah's bag to a tuk tuk. No sale had been agreed, the cheeky bastard. Talking to Sarah and agreeing what we should pay for a 2km journey, with the rain pouring down and a hundred voices shouting "where you want to go?" is stressful. My occassional shouts "just shh,let me think". We weren't sure where we were going. I knew the lakeside where I stayed before is now supposed to be developed and all back-packer hostels moved on. Phnom Penh is a big city and we really didn't want to be in an isolated side of it. I asked them to take us in the direction of Sisowath Quay, near the Royal Palace.
The driver was probably very new and his near misses were occasionally his fault, that and the Cambodian disregard for looking backwards when reversing. On two occasions I felt we were seconds from a Lexus bumper snapping our legs. The driver looked back and smiled, while I begged he please look at the road. On approaching turning into Street 136, I saw a guesthouse and asked him to stop. We were tired, it looked like it couldn't cost much to stay here and we got ourselves a room in a quite authentic part of Phnom Penh. I say authentic as you have to walk a few blocks to find a club sandwich. The cafes near us serve cows intestines with noodles. Breakfast time is littered with Khmers slurping noodles on the pavement. It's very real, sometimes dark and scary but very real.
We had a mission and that was Vietnam visas. Ever since China, I've become less confident about getting visas, and maybe the importance I placed on securing a Vietnamese visa, made me bite my nails in thought. In all I should listen to Sarah's mantra "everything will work out" more often. We found a travel agent within an hour of finding a guesthouse, handed over our passports and secured visas for $42 each. Cheaper than if we went to the embassy. I know why its cheaper; they courier our passports down to Sihanoukville in the south where the cheap Vietnamese consulate is and get them sent back up. I don't like to think the long journey my passport has taken while it has not been on my person; I will just enjoy the result when it comes back. We also secured a through bus from Phnom Penh to Ho Chi Ming City for Saturday morning for $10 each.
We arranged a tuk tuk driver to take us to three stops in Phnom Penh. these were:
- The Shooting Range.
- The Killing Fields at Choeung Ek
- Tuol Sleng Prison.
The Shooting Range
It was a long arse ride out through dusty poverty to the shooting range which is what you'd expect it is. It is here that you can fire most weapon allowed by the 2nd Amendment and some that are not. On arrival we were ushered into a hall, where you could instantly smell the stench of gun fire. We sat down and were offered a menu of death. Most rapid fire guns were $40 for round of 30, pistols were $30 and carried a round of 10. The opportunity came to take a picture draped in bullets, holding a gun and wearing a war hat. I took three of Sarah and I think she looked very hot in a GI Jane way, or should I say GI Lane? (Sorry). I declined for mine to be taken. Initially as I'm very uncomfortable about being too happy around guns, especially here. More than this, I was also mindful that while Sarah looked hot, I would look like a stupid macho prick.
We chose an AK47 and because of the cost, we shared the 30 bullets. I went first, just to get it over with. I was shaking like a leaf. The smell of gunfire from those who's turn came first is not pleasant at all. Its almost like urine and and overheated vehicle. The room is dark and you hold in your hand something that has at a flick of a finger robbed many and mother, wife or sister of a son, husband or brother. I fired three bullets in my first go. The kick back on your shoulder. The paranoid way the staff are near the safety catch on the gun, the sound of it hitting the wall behind (never the target). The gun oil or cartridge residue over your arm after each each fire. Sarah took her go and seemed more comfortable around it than I. I'm glad I fired a gun, it helps magnify what evil things they are to point at anyone.
Before leaving we were obviously encouraged to take other things off the menu. I think a hand grenade was $200 and for $350 you can fire a portable rocket launcher. When would you get another chance to do that. If you come here and bring about $2000 you could have a fun day of activity. I'm guessing most fire a few rounds and leave in less that 10 minutes.
The Killing Fields at Choeung Ek
Since my last visits here, the Choeung Ek memorial or one of the Killing Fields, has improved vastly and is very much more informative. The biggest improvement is the audio tour which explains the things I missed last time. It's easy to miss things as all the buildings were torn down after the end of the KR regime. You are hit with emotive stories and data from the outset. Amongst the voices are KR guards who tell you what it was like to transport the 17000 who died here between 1975 and 1979. Its a peaceful place which fittingly counteracts the mad killing machine it would have been during use. If you were sent here during the regime you were going to die, and it would not been at the expense of a bullet. Farming tools and sharp bark from palm trees were the weapons used. This is unless you happened to be an infant then it would be easier to swing you by your legs and bash your head against a tree. Pol Pot justified this in one of his chilling phrases; "sometimes to kill the grass you have to destroy the roots". We know the logic behind this barbarity; a child will grow and seek revenge one day. Other chilling phrases by Mr Pot included: "better to kill an innocent, than let an enemy live", and also "to keep you is no gain, to lose you is no loss". The latter was aimed at all the Cambodian people of the time.
There was a lot of information to organise, and a lot of emotion to make sense of, and with all these types of museums you wonder if you did it justice, and you gave it the attention it deserved. I for one thought the audio guides were such a great improvement on last time. I've already stated the obvious advantage, but it also seemed to keep people quiet. You felt you had to whisper when asking for a water. This Choeung Ek site and the museum (also added somewhere in the last eight years) succeeds in attracting thousands but keeping them all quiet and respectful.
Tuol Sleng Prison
Our last stop with our driver was the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum, or also called S-21. This was a firstly a school in the heart of Phnom Penh but under the KR regime it was changed to a security prison. Tuol Sleng means "Hill of the Poisonous Trees". If interested in the data and facts, please follow the link in the heading, but I'll just run through the things that jumped out at me.
It was obviously a prison for those who were perceived as enemies of the revolution. In a totalitarian regime, an enemy could be in thought as well as deed, therefore the qualifications for the horror of this prison are extremely broad. Photos line the walls of the scared faces that came here. Some elderly, some young, some holding babies, some whole families, some on a stretcher. The only thing all but 7 of them had in common, they would never see the 1980s.
One that jumped out at me each time I visited here is the Australian with pretty bad hair. David Lloyd Scott was one of few white people who died here. His story interested me, probably as I'm ashamed to admit he is white and stuck out. A group of adventurers set out to sail from Malaysia to Japan. The leader of this cruise was a Brit called John Dawson Dewhirst. By misfortune their yaught, Foxy Lady found it's way into Cambodian waters and they were captured by the KR and taken to S-21. The tortures must have followed, as John wrote his biography (as is the requirement of all in-mates at S-21) and in it he admitted to being trained by the CIA at 12 years old. I was interested in how they met there deaths, and apparently being white and western David Scott and John Dewhirst were singled out for special treatment. No trace was allowed to remain of them. They were placed in the street on a heap of tires and gasoline and burned alive. This was the confession of Comrade Duch, in charge of S-21 and Choeung Ek.
I could write words and words of the horrors that left me jaw-dropped, but I need a break from it. It's depressing stuff. In a way to turn down this blog and make it upbeat a bit, I have to describe our evening at legendary Sharky's. Sarah loved the place at it is a slice of an American bar in the heart of Phnom Penh. The customer base fell into three categories:
- Fat middle-aged men recovering from a divorce of their making in cheap Cambodia
- Khmer girl prostitutes employed to laugh at FMAM's jokes, massage egos , then crawl on top of this blob of jelly later when he's drunk, horny and smelling of burgers.
- American Frat Boys.
I think Sarah and I fell into neither of those categories, Sarah being the only lady caucasian there, which I noticed. The drinks could have been cheaper for Cambodia. Still sitting at the bar having a few beers, and later a refreshing G&T, was a nice wind down from a day of genocide overload. Sarah seemed in her element sitting at the bar and eating nachos and loaded potato skins, and so was I. I always used to be uncomfortable sat at a bar eating or drinking unless I really knew the staff. This was good. I felt happy drunk. We retired about 10ish, totted up how much we blew our budget on food and drink in a day by 150%. But so what.
Today is day 143 and 24th August. We are seeing nothing heavy, just some markets and The Royal Palace. Tomorrow is a new country for both of us, Vietnam. I'm really excited, but first breakfast.
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