I’m always surprised at how abruptly things can change when you cross a border. As if the lines drawn by cartographers are actual physical walls which stop the ebb and flow of shared traditions, stories and geography itself. Immediately upon crossing the border from Vietnam to Cambodia- you realize that God hired an entirely new set designer and prop crew. Just like that- no more concrete construction, corrugated metal, conical hats or flowing ao-dais of the Vietnamese women. The new sets involve wooden and bamboo homes built high on stilts that blend into the environment flawlessly. Here like in Africa, the homes seem to born of the landscape itself and not forced upon it by cement mixers and rebar. And like Africa, the poverty, the naked children and the sheer presence of the land itself creates a character completely unlike Vietnam or Thailand.
For two days the slow boat from Saigon to Phnom Penn treated us to a languid and gentle baptism as the spray from the bough of the wooden boat cooled our faces. From every hut, sewn securely into the jungle on the hem of this generous river, children came running out to wave and smile. Woman wrapped in checkered sarongs put down their laundry to wave and people bathing with their cattle also took a minute to look up curiously as we hitched our ride on the currents of the wide and muddy mighty Mekong.
The honking, swerving and driving into oncoming traffic had been replaced with the steady drone of the boat's engine engine, the lapping of the water and the sound of our imagination released for recess. Cruising by the river's edge like seafaring voyeurs, we greedily watched the quiet life on the riverbanks unfold in front of us.
Then, after trading our sea legs for bus stomachs we rolled inland past village after village. Not able to put our finger on exactly what charmed us so much about this countryside- we decided it might be the dramatic juxtaposition between such overt poverty and the regular apparitions of spectacularly ornate ancient temples, constantly surprising you like some giant spiritual Jack-In-The-Box.
Another striking difference was that unlike the tempest of motorcycles in Vietnam, a lot of the people here are on bicycles. There are still 2-5 people precariously balanced on each bike- they are on their way to dentist appointments and pig auctions and dance practice and lemon grass buying and just life in general. We even saw a young couple riding with their baby who had an I.V. sticking up 2 feet above them on a metal rod. And such is life on two wheels.
One definite perk of our scenic excursion is that our mini-bus came with a tour guide. The guide was young, charismatic and he spoke very good English. After about an hour of giving us mildly interesting information over the microphone (which was attached to excruciatingly loud speakers), he asked if we would rather use it for karaoke (accapella of course). All of the westerners on the bus looked horrified and politely said no as they glanced at their ipod- the traveler’s best friend. I explained gently that unlike people in SE Asia, we westerners usually need lots and lots of alcohol before we embark on any karaoke adventure. He nodded and then happily passed the microphone to the Korean businessmen who treated us to quite a soundtrack. Wow.
PHNOM PENH
Like the other 3rd or 4th world places we have visited, in Cambodia life is lived outside in full view of everyone else. It seems there is little if any distinction between private life and communal life- at least at a certain socio-economic level. They cook, relax, play, gossip, eat and nap in front of their homes and shops. What a far cry from the privacy and the bubbles and the personal space we westerners cherish so much. In the states we say good fences make good neighbors. Here I suppose good fences make good kindling.
It always makes a difference in whatever city you are in if you love- okay or at least you don't loathe the place your staying. The Happy 11 guesthouse was tucked away on a winding backpacker alley nestled up against a beautiful but polluted lake and complete with travel agents, good food, shopping and even a convenience store of sorts. (Can anyone say "La Vache Qui Rit?") The common room of our guesthouse boasted a huge wooden deck, hanging orchids, hammocks, 2 TVs with ESPN and a good little restaurant. They played Buddha Bar at night and it made for a great place to hang out and relax for happy hour. And all of these great amenities made up for our room, which was small, dank and cockroachy. Oops- better to be outside anyway.
Phnom Penn itself isn't too much to speak of but one day we hired a tuk-tuk driver to take us around (he was Cambodian and spoke broken English with the thickest Australian accent I have ever heard- so funny to hear a g'day mate coming from him!). We packed a lot in and checked out the Royal Palace, the river walk which hosts the famous Foreign Correspondence Club, a bar and restaurant in a lovely yellow French colonial building where journalists have been loitering and discussing important things for years.
And yes, we also visited the infamous Killing Fields, as well the Tuol Slang Museum (a former high school turned torture chamber and prison) also referred to S21. Ughhhhhhhh.... I’m sure by now you are all tired of hearing about the details of our death and destruction tour and believe you me, we are sick of seeing it.
Most of you probably know this but in 1975 the Khmer rouge took power in Cambodia and backed by Chairman Mao, they began one of the largest genocides of the 20th century. Inspired by the Communists in China, they began their own cultural revolution led by the ruthless and brutal Pol Pot. He claimed that this was "year zero" and Cambodia was starting over. His regime began the process of exterminating all the people who were educated, artists, who sympathized with foreigners, who showed bourgeois tendencies or who had connections with the old regime. Their ultimate goal was to have a small population in which everyone was a poor peasant or farmer and could be easily controlled, manipulated and exploited. People were sent to extermination camps right outside the cities (the killing fields) where loudspeakers blasted music from big beautiful trees to cover up the screams of everyone being tortured and murdered here. They did not want to waste bullets so most people were bludgeoned to death. Babies, children, women and men. Cambodia had 7 million people; I have heard the numbers of dead reported as high as 2 million. They executed a quarter of their entire population! In 1979 Vietnam finally invaded, threw over the Khmer rouge and ended the nightmare. Big, deep, dark sighhhhhhhhhh...
To be totally honest, I am sad to say that maybe I am becoming desensitized to it all or maybe I just don't know how to process this kind of violence but my reaction (and Angelo’s too) walking out of these places now is not sadness, not tears, not sympathy.
Now it's just plain anger.
And I think about what God must be thinking as he or she looks around down here and I imagine it is something eloquent and wise like: "WHAT IN THE HELL IS THE MATTER WITH YOU PEOPLE? I AM SO SICK AND TIRED OF HUMAN BEINGS AND YOUR DISPICABLE BEHAVIOUR." And that is what I am thinking too. Is there anywhere on earth that the soil has not run red because of human ignorance and greed? Maybe on our next trip we'll go to Canada, or maybe Iceland. It’s too cold for bad things to happen there I think.
My dear friend and art director for the last few years in San Francisco is named Suosdey Penn. She was born in Cambodia and narrowly escaped with her sisters and her parents when Phnom Penn fell to the Khmer rouge. Her father was in the military and knew his family would be in extreme danger if they did not leave. Suos is one of the most talented, creative and gentle people I know. She has the rare and precious gift of being able take anything and make it so beautiful you can't believe it. The whole time I was in Cambodia I was searching for her in every face and thinking of her family's amazing story amidst all the tragedy that ripped ferociously through this beautiful country. The world is so much richer for her being in it and so much darker from the rest of the lights that were extinguished during those horrible years.
ANGKOR WHAT?
After the Killing Fields it was onto something a little lighter. Welcome to Siem Reap, the base camp for all who wish to explore the ancient treasures of Angkor Wat. Mike, Val, Angelo and I took a five hour bus up here and settled in for some Tomb Raider brand of fun. And I am happy to report, the 9th century Hindu ruins did not disappoint. Angelo puts these right behind Machu Picchu on the wonders of the world list (above The Great Wall!) I’m not going to put them above the Wall but I do have to admit, they really were spectacular. The temples are all completely different and we spent the whole day riding our bikes between them.
You step into these mystical places with crumbling rock overrun by the possessive and imposing jungle and you can actually inhale the history. These are sacred places of dappled light, shadows, a thousand brilliant shades of green, and a tangible magic that leaks through the crevices and hovers like an invisible fog. It is also a place that has come full circle. For centuries people hacked through the jungle, pinned back the natural order and built these massive places of worship for the ancient people of this region. Now, the evidence of manmade splendor recedes into green as nature reclaims what was hers to begin with. And as the twisted roots, rampant lichen and errant vines tear down the stone and turn the carvings to dust, the temples made by man return to the original temple made by God.
JINX. BUY ME A PEPTO.
While we were visiting the temples, we stopped at a little hut to have a drink and as usual, a gaggle of kids materialized speaking excellent English and wanting us to buy bracelets, postcards, water and sweets. We chatted to them for a bit and then after not buying anything, we waved goodbye and were off on our friendly way. The next night back in town one of the girls selling post cards recognized me. When I still didn't want her post cards she got angry and started yelling at me. She shouted, "I hope you have bad luck for life! And I hope you never find boyfriend!"
Well, Angelo was agreeing with her on the second part but unfortunately she must have been a real Cambodian demon sorceress because no sooner had she hexed us than I ended up having a total physical melt down and within days, all three of our immune systems imploded (somehow Val escaped). Yes, full-on Cambodian fevers! Accompanied by chills, nausea, cramping and what we lovingly refer to as complete anal collapse. It took three days laid out cold and one trip to the Bangkok hospital to get us back on our feet. Sadly, we said our hurried goodbyes to Mike and Val just after a small "safe" dinner in the middle of a food court of a fancy mall as we were scattering to find bathrooms....
The following is an outtake of us at the restaurant the night before Angelo’s system collapsed.
Me cheerily to waitress: "Yes, hello. May I order some French fries?" (Which were on the menu in English)
Waitress: "Yes- you want pork or chicken?"
Vegetarian me: "No- right here (pointing to menu)- French fries?"
Waitress smiling politely: "Yes. French fries of pork or chicken?"
Me (hungry and tired): "I would like them made of potatoes."
Waitress (confused): "Potatoes? Yes. Maybe."
Love and Imodium. xxj&a
