We arrived in Pnom Penh, Cambodia early evening on the 27th March.
Before coming to Cambodia, I had read a book called ‘First they Killed my Father’ (which I would highly recommend to anyone) which was about the genocide that happened in Cambodia from 1975 until 1979. The book was truly horrific, and really opened my eyes to the realities of Cambodia. I found that the moment we crossed the border and entered the city, I was looking in to the face of every local I saw, and wondering what they had experienced. What happened during those years was big, and would have had some effect on everyone there now, whether they were born then or not. In fact, I came to learn during my time there that this was true, everyone we spoke to had some story – whether about themselves or a member of their family. During those four years, a quarter of Cambodians were either murdered, or starved to death. That’s the equivalent of about 17 million people, if that had happened in England.
So, that first hour in Pnom Penh was quite harrowing for me, I let the emotion of it all overtake me a little. When a tuk tuk driver was begging me to let him take us to a hotel, I walked away almost in tears because i’d said no to him, and he seemed to genuinely need the fare. Andrea came to the rescue a little bit, because we were a little lost, and had all our heavy bags, she installed me in to a cafe with a drink and all of our bags while she went off to find somewhere for us to stay.
On our first evening in Pnom Penh, we treated ourselves to a nice meal. We were so struck by the level of service in Cambodia, the clean restaurants and bars, the quality food, the cheap drinks, and the lovely staff. A whole world away from the cold hard Vietnamese who brashly and unashamedly take you for everything they can.
The next day we chatted with a Tuk Tuk driver about what we wanted to do, and he was happy (of course!) to Chauffeur us about and take us wherever we needed to go. First of all, we went to visit the Killing Fields. There are three hundred and something Killing Fields in Cambodia, but Choeung Ek, the one we visited was the biggest. The Khmer Rouge, led by Pol Pot (The Hitler of Cambodia) would arrest people for having any kind of connection outside Cambodia (whether they had received aide or even if they just knew someone) and they would also arrest anyone known to have intelligence; doctors, teachers, or even anyone with glasses. They would also arrest their entire families (including babies.) These families would be sent off for ‘re-education’ which generally just meant torture, so that they would give up the names and whereabouts of anyone else they knew, before being executed. People were executed at the killing fields in the most barbaric ways, because the regime didn’t want to waste bullets.
We couldn’t understand any of it. They say that there’s method in madness but we couldn’t see one. What was Pol Pot trying to achieve? Even talking to the locals no one seemed to know. It was entirely senseless. There were ditches everywhere, these were the pits where the bodies of the executed victims were disregarded. Some of the victims when thrown into these pits were still alive, if the blow from the butt of the rifle hadn’t worked. The guards knew this and threw some sort of chemical over the victims which would surely finish them off. The ground from some of the pits had risen over time and the bones were visible, buried just under the surface. There was a tree with a large black stain on it. The black stain was old dry blood from the babies who the guards would execute by holding them by the feet and cracking their heads against the tree. Another favourite execution method was to throw the babies in the air and then shoot them like a clay pigeon before they came crashing back to earth. A speaker playing music was hung from a near by tree so as to disguise the noise from the victims so that no one knew what was going on there. Melanie asked our guide if any of his family had been harmed during the Khmer Rouge regime, he replied rather nonchalantly that his grandfather had been murdered. The story is the same all over Cambodia.
Our depressing day continued, our next stop was S-21, an old school turned prison where the victims were kept captive before execution. The goings on here were equally as harsh. Some of the prisoners were tortured to extract information concerning the whereabouts of friends and relatives. They were kept in solitary confinement, in prison cells no more than two metres wide. The cells didn’t have doors, they weren’t needed as the prisoners were chained to the wall. The guards demanded silence, they weren’t even able to talk to their neighbours. There were still blood stains on the floor. Our guide at S-21 told us that she and her mother had escaped to Vietnam in 1976, but that her father and sister were murdered in Cambodia. Of course they don’t know where or what happened to them. They don’t even know where their bodies are, they can only presume that the remains of their loved ones are in one of the many killing fields that exist all over the country.
On the way out of S-21 we were accosted by beggars, as we usually are. We really wanted to help, but we had the same issue outside of the Killing fields earlier in the day and we can’t give money to everyone. One guy who was terrifying, (his face was severely disfigured, he had suffered horrific burns to his face, he was missing eye lids and lips) chased me back to the tuk tuk, everywhere I tried to turn he was in my face. I thought about giving him money to make him go away but before I had a chance Melanie rescued me and the tuk tuk driver gave him a bolloking. We had a chat with the tuk tuk driver, telling him we wanted to help but couldn’t give money to everyone. He told us that if we wanted to help he could take us to an orphanage. We could buy the kids toys and food and spend the day with them. Spending a day with 100 children isn’t exactly my idea of a fun but we wanted to contribute something and Melanie’s face had lit up on the very mention of it, so we agreed we’d go the next day.
That night we headed down to the river to have some dinner and were discussing the politics of Cambodia; the corruption and the poverty when a little girl approached us trying to sell us bracelets. We said no. You’re not supposed to give money to the children because it encourages the parents to send them out when they should be in school or asleep. She said it was for food and we still said no. (This is very hard to do sometimes, but the children are often taken advantage of, the money doesn’t necessarily go towards food, it’s quite likely in fact that it lines the pockets of the man who’s pimping them out!) In the end she simply said ‘Ice cream?’ Melanie and I looked at each other and thought, how can an ice cream hurt? I agreed to go with the little girl to buy an ice cream. After passing six or seven shops which I’m sure would have sold ice cream I wondered where she was taking me and how far away it was. She talked to the other street kids on the way, and before I knew it I had three kids hanging onto my arm shouting ‘ice cream, ice cream’. I told them I couldn’t buy ice cream for everyone, but they weren’t having it, In the end I reasoned that it would make their day and I gave in. That’s when I saw the expensive looking luxury ice cream parlour, all minimalist inside with different flavours and toppings that you help yourself too. I thought, hang on I didn’t agree to this.
The little girl was good at least and took the smallest tub available, I told the kids to choose one topping each, the little boy took the biggest tub he could see and filled it with all the toppings when he thought I wasn’t looking. He laughed at me when I told him he wasn’t being fair. I felt like a bit of a mug. On the way back to the pub I had maybe six or seven children following me, trying to sell me everything from post cards to bracelets, asking for money or ice cream. They surrounded the table back at the pub and I was getting pretty agitated. A different little boy told me I was stingy for not buying his postcards or buying him ice cream. He spelt out the word ‘Fuck’ and walked away in a strop. We finished our drinks and went. The little girl scolded me on the way out for not going home in the tuk tuk belonging to her friend.
I woke up the next day so excited to go to the Orphanage. The tuk tuk driver collected us in the morning, and took us to some markets to buy massive bunches of bananas, sacks of rice and some toys. When we arrived, we were quite shocked about the Orphanage – in a good way! It was quite a huge area with a play park, volley nets, goal nets for football, trees, climbing frames and all sorts. On each side were small buildings which were the bedrooms and classrooms. Most of the children were out at school, so we got a chance to sit and just talk to one or two of them – their English was perfect, and they were smiley, lovely children. Then, shortly afterwards, the rest of the kids came piling back from school for their lunch. They all said “Hello, how are you?” as they passed us.
There are 98 children in the Orphanage. We asked the guy who ran it if they have any support from the government (everything in the Orphanage seemed to have a plaque nailed to it stating it had been donated by charities and governments in Israel or France) he laughed, and explained that actually, they had to pay money to the government in order to stay open. He explained that the orphanage is kept going by donations from abroad, and tourists like us who visit with food. 68 of the children have been sponsored by tourists, so all of their schooling is paid for. I asked for a little more information about this (there are still 30 kids without sponsorship) and he just told me about how much it all costs – I was quite surprised by what he told me, for example, it only costs nine hundred US dollars (£540) a year to send a child to university, and to feed and clothe them, I don’t know any one who wouldn’t be able to manage giving up £500 of their salary per year!? I pushed for more information, feeling quite emotional that I was going to be able to do this, but it was like getting blood out of a stone. I tried talking to a couple of the other guys who worked there, and they didn’t seem to be able to give me any information either. By the time we eventually left the orphanage, I’d not been able to get any kind of solid information about how to get involved, other than that it’s possible. I’ve thought about it since, and thought about doing my own research – but somehow, I wouldn’t feel comfortable using online sources as a means of sponsoring a child on the other side of the world.
We had a really lovely day there anyway, the children really brightened up our visit to Pnom Penh, following all the other harrowing things we’d seen.
We then headed up to Siem Reap, which took about 6 hours, and arrived quite late in the evening. We were dropped in what seemed to be a car park on the side of the road, in which there were a bunch of tuk tuk drivers waiting for us. Andrea and I had our usual panic of not knowing where we were, or where we were going. We had assumed that Siem Reap was a big city, the same as Pnom Penh, but we appeared to be driving through very dark country lanes – and the tuk tuk drivers had made us nervous the way they were all surrounding us and trying to take our bags for us, speaking English to us and laughing with each other in Cambodian. Still, as this story usually goes, we got to where we needed to be with no problems!
Siem Reap was a lovely little town, really chilled with lots of nice bars with comfy sofas lining the streets and 50 cent (about 30 pence) pints! We spent a couple of days just chilling out, looking round the markets, eating the wonderful food Cambodia has to offer (I’m afraid, by this, I mean that they do western food really well!) One evening, we arranged for a tuk tuk to take us to Angkor Wat the next morning at sunrise – we later saw a couple of girls from our hotel also trying to organise a tuk tuk, and brought them on board with us, to half our costs.
We were picked up at 5am the next morning, hoping that Angkor Wat would be worth it – we’d seen enough temples to be able to call ourselves Buddhist by then! The two girls we were in the tuk tuk with told us that they’d just finished their A-Levels and were on a gap year, again, making us feel like a pair of grannies! Everyone seems to be 18 here! When they asked how old we were, I felt like telling them “Old enough to be your mother!” Yes, I don’t help matters!
We’d been told that sunrise was the best time to visit, not only for the views, but also for the lack of tourists – this didn’t seem to be true. Still, we watched sun rise behind the Angkor, which was pretty, but the clouds ruined it a bit. Angkor Wat is very old – I don’t have access to Google at this moment in time to be able to tell you exactly how old – but it was lost for many years, no-one knew it existed, until it was discovered in amongst a load of jungle some time .. in the past! (I’d not recommend using this blog as an educational tool!) We spent the morning wandering around that, and a load of other very old ‘lost’ temples, one of which was quite impressive, it had trees growing, entwined with the walls, from the buildings themselves. Tomb Raider was filmed here. Lonely Planet had told us that to try and see the Temples of Angkor in one day was a shame, and that you should try to spend a week. We were done by 11am.
Back in Siem Reap, we tried to work out our plan of action for the last 10 days or so of our trip – the plan had always been (ever since before we even left the UK) to spend the last week on the Thai Islands soaking up the sun. You may have seen recently in the news that the Thai Islands have been flooded due to unseasonal rain – the floods even taking twenty-five lives. We were going to head to Sihanoukville in the south of Cambodia, as there are some islands there which are supposed to be reminiscent of the Thai Islands before all of the nasty developers came along. BBC weather told us it was raining there. We looked at flights to Indonesia – BBC weather told us it was raining there. We looked at flights to Malaysia – BBC weather told us it was raining there. We thought about going to Dubai early and extending our stop over there (we have a 3 hour stop over there on the way home) but the hotel prices were too high. We decided, at last, to go back to Chiang Mai in the north of Thailand, where we’d already been, as it was the only place BBC Weather gave the thumbs up to. We went in to an agency to book a bus, and they told us “Chaing Mai closed, earthquake”. We were shocked, we asked when this had happened, and they told us ‘now’. We got on the phone to our travel agents, and asked how soon we could fly home – they told us that we could get on a flight in two days time, and we wondered whether to take the option, as we literally couldn’t see anywhere else we could go. We have some friends (who we met in Argentina) who we knew were in Chiang Mai at the end of their trip like us, and facebooked them to ask if everything was OK … “It’s fine, we’re sunbathing, there’s no earthquake!” they told us, so we headed, once again, through Bangkok, and up to Chiang Mai. It took us 24 hours to get there.
We found a place with a pool, and settled for some relaxation. I checked BBC Weather once again, just because I like it when it shows me 5 days of sun, and it had changed its mind, it told us that the next week would be full of storms. LIES! We had a lovely week, doing nothing but sitting by the pool, and being in bed every evening by about 9, apart from one evening when we caught up with Johanna and Evan (the guys we’d met in Argentina) and compared notes on ‘The World’ – they’ve done almost exactly the same trip as us, but we never seemed to be in the same place at the same time to catch up. It was nice being able to talk with other people who had been to all the same places as us!
We are now back in Bangkok, we have checked out of our hotel, and are waiting to go to the airport. I can’t tell you the relief that we are both currently feeling, knowing that by tomorrow afternoon, we’ll be back in Manchester, where everybody knows our names, and they’re always glad we came!