Today I woke up, had breakfast, and said goodbye to Phnom Penh. I had really enjoyed my time here, even with all the terrible things I had seen.
I had been dodging a tuk-tuk driver that had been outside my hostel every day asking me if I needed a ride somewhere. His biggest enticement was a ride to a chicken farm. With the visions of bird flu dancing in my head, I decided against it. But today was a new day. I asked the hostel what I should expect as far as a price to the bus station. They told me $2. I asked the driver and he told me $2. We drove through the morning traffic of the capital. It was already quite warm. We arrived at the bus stop and the driver told me he wanted $3. I asked him what happened to the $2 he quoted me. He told me he wanted more for having to go through all the traffic and was quite adamant. I was relaxed and he had gotten me to the station safely, so I said OK. I handed him the money. He was still ready for an argument and kept saying the price increase was because of the traffic. After I got my bags out, I clasped my hands together and bowed. He returned the gesture and sped on his way still muttering about the traffic. This method of conflict resolution for uncomfortable incidences on the street still serves me to this day.
The station was the same one as my arrival. I waited for the bus along with my fellow passengers in its little lounge, in seats that were removed from previously retired buses. My coach arrived, I found my seat and set in for the long ride. To my surprise, there was a pretty good signal for the internet and I was able to get some work done as we drove through the Cambodian countryside.
We stopped at a lovely rest stop where there was a restaurant. I got my new favorite dish of Lok Lak before we boarded the bus for the final leg of our journey. We arrived in Siem Reap a few hours later.
I was able to grab a Tuk Tuk at the bus station and it took me to my hostel off of Pub Street. I dropped my bags and headed out to have a look. Siem Reap looked very modern as did Phnom Pehn. I walked around and saw I was indeed in a tourist district as there were shops and bars as far as the eye could see. I had still wanted to find my ever-elusive money clip. Then something weird happened.
I was walking back to my hostel when a bespeckled man stopped me. He had a bunch of flyers and he handed me one. With his thick Cambodian accent, he asked me how I was. I told him very well thank you. He asked me how I liked Siem Reap. I told him I just arrived. He then went into his pitch. He said that he was an English teacher at a rural school nearby, pointing to the flyer and showing kids in a dirt floor schoolhouse. He said he was in the city asking tourists that speak English if they would like to come out to his school for the day and hold a lecture for the children. Now, I would not consider myself a paranoid traveler, but observant and situationally aware. This stranger was offering me a ride out to the countryside. I would have no way to communicate with the outside world if this man was not who he said he was or taking me to where he said he would. But I could also feel my heart twinge, as this felt like this would be the second time I would be letting the children of Cambodia down.
I instead offered a donation. The man was excited. I peeled off $10 and put it in his donation envelope. He thanked me profusely and promised to email me about all the good my donation had done for his school. I felt that this was the best I could do right now. After talking with this man, I walked along the street and found a stationery store just to see how far my $10 would go. Frankly, it could furnish a whole class of 30 children with pens and notebooks. I headed back to my hostel to rest up for my coming big day.
I woke up the next morning early, had breakfast, purchased an energy drink, and waited for my tour. The van arrived with a few other participants and we headed to Angkor Wat. This was culminating yet another dream.
Angkor Wat is a vast temple complex, originally serving as a Hindu mausoleum for King Suryavarman II. I learned that it took 37 years to build starting in 1137 using a 30% slave labor of a 130,000 workforce. The non-slaves thought that building these Hindu temples facing West would bring them good karma. It was built as an homage to the Hindu god Vishnu, but by the end of the 12th Century, it moved to the Buddhist tradition.
Upon getting to the ticket stand, I learned an interesting fact: the admission process was handled by a Vietnamese company. After paying our entry fees, complete with a mugshot attached to our tickets, we headed into the temple complex. There was a bobbing walkway that took us over the moat in front of Angkor Wat. Crossing through the doors was possibly one of the greatest spiritual experiences of my life. Captured in a panorama in front of me was one of the wonders of the world. It was sublime.
While Angkor Wat was spectacular, my favorite temples were Bayon and Angkor Thom. The Bayon temple was like the others in that it shifted from being to honor Hindu gods and the Buddha. The aspect that makes it so alluring are gigantic peaceful faces carved from stone that have been looking out and smiling for millennia. While Angkor Thom was made famous in the Tomb Raider movie with Angelina Jolie, it is equally as impressive. Only in a different way. The complex was lost to time for a few centuries until explorers happened upon it. Angkor Thom was beginning to be reclaimed slowly by nature. Giant trees sprung up around, on, and in the complex. Probably starting from tiny seeds dropped by birds or monkeys, they were nourished by the monsoons and soon had roots draping over the temple walls.
Looking at the temple with all its grandeur slowly becoming covered with flora, especially Angkor Thom, the poem Ozymandias by Percy Shelly came to mind. While I looked upon the mighty works and despaired, I thought, what trees will be going out of the US Capital in a 1000 years? Who will be visiting the ruins of the White House? What language will they speak at the Lincoln Memorial? What money will they use to see relics of the Statue of Liberty? The nature of empires is that they end, usually from within than without.
Our guide was a loveable young man that spoke perfect English and was one hell of a photographer. He told us everything he knew about Angkor Wat and Cambodia at large answering my many, many questions. One thing I noticed about him is that he found some money on the ground outside of Angkor Thom and asked people if it were theirs. When everyone replied it was not, he decided to donate all of it to a group of disabled musicians sitting out from on Angkor Thom. We all went to lunch where he made it very clear that if we liked the tour, we should give a review on Trip Advisor as this is how he was paying for school. He mentioned that many times.
After lunch, outside of the restaurant, there was some sort of musical song and dance going on. It was incredible to watch. Not only were Cambodians participating, but they invited foreigners in to keep up the best they could.
I finished out the very long day by haggling at the market around my hostel for a print of Angkor Wat. They wanted $55, but I talked them down to $30. It was probably mass-produced in China so I did not feel too bad. When I returned to my once empty room, my new roommate was a rather large, snoring Chinese man in his twenties. Thoughts of Melbourne poped into my head. I tried as I might, but not even sleep masked wrapped earplugs could stop his constant din. It was not a good night.
The next day I woke up and headed to the Cambodian War Museum after a lot of coffee. It was on the outskirts of the city, but I found a Tuk-Tuk willing to take me. The interesting thing about this museum is that the tours are offered by veterans of the war. My guide was kind of a celebrity. He even had a book written about him. The first thing I noticed was the pungent smell of death that seemed to surround him. He was recruited by the army when he was just a boy in order to fight the Khmer Rouge. Throughout his career, he was shot, blown up (having a bone fragment from his foot being lodged into his eye,) he had ball bearings in his arms and one good leg and had been stung by 50 something hornets when a nest fell on him during a tour. By his own admission, he should have died many times. He lifted his shirt to show us his war wounds, “This hole was from an AK, this one from my friend’s M16.” As he lowered his shirt, he lifted his pant leg to show his prosthetic. Matter of factly, he told us that landmines took his leg, his wife, his daughter’s friend, many friends of his own, and people all around the country.
He said there were 2.5 landmines for every person in Cambodia. A quick calculation made it 30 million active landmines. He even chuckled a little and told us we were standing on a once very active minefield. The other guests looked nervous, but he explained they had all been removed. He said that it was one of the heaviest mined countries on Earth as the Chinese, Russians, Americans, and Vietnamese all sent munitions to help one side or the other in their Civil War. The mines were laid by hand which is why they were difficult to locate. As well as the fact that they can move due to heavy monsoon rains and shifting earth. A majority of the mines were anti-personnel mines, meaning that they were designed to maim, not kill. As the grim logic of war goes, if someone dies, that is one person out of the fight. If they are wounded, two or maybe three people are taken out of the fight as they need to help their comrade get medical attention.
The Cambodian War museum was an outdoor venue with different displays in huts that lined the perimeter of the museum, including a please touch section of small arms. I got a selfie with a Browning Automatic Rifle that can put a very large hole in the middle of a truck engine block if one were so inclined. In the center were various weapons of war such as planes, tanks and anti-aircraft guns. As our guide walked us around, he showed us a Soviet tank and asked us to take a really good look at the bed in the back. There was a small discolored stick-looking object. He shared with us that this was part of the tibia and shoe of his friend that was blown up.
As our tour was winding down, he then started talking about politics. He got very quiet and started looking around. He explained he did not like the direction the country was heading, in that, the Prime Minister had been in office for almost 35 years and all his children were in high positions. He said he could not really talk about it as he raised his finger to his throat and made a slicing motion. The other people in the group, from NZ and AUS, all gasped. He showed us some more Explosive Ordinance Disposal pictures, then asked me what I did for work. I told him. He said that was a much safer job. We both chuckled. I told him about my friend that used to defuse bombs in Iraq, and he lamented that the Americans always got the best equipment to do that kind of work. I agreed. I thanked him for his time and offered him a tip which I know he appreciated.
My next stop this day was the Landmine Museum, about an hour’s ride away. I got a Tuk-Tuk from Grab and headed out. I got to go through the Angkor Wat temple complex again. As we were riding along, I noticed in the countryside, large billboards talking about the wonderful new communities that were coming, complete with glossy photos. Houses with pools and driveways, all looking like something out of Southern California. I looked around and saw people living in shacks with dirt floors. I wondered about the tone-deafness of these advertisements, then I noticed the bottom of the placard was written in Chinese. Their expanse was never-ending, even into the bucolic fields of Siem Reap, Cambodia.
I got to the museum, which was crude, but nonetheless captivating. It was created by a man that had a life story much like my guide at the other museum. His name is Aki Ra, the name he adopted. He did not know his real name or birthdate but believed it was 1970. He became a child soldier for the Khmer Rouge at 10 as his parents were killed, presumably by them, before he was five. He was small but scrappy. He became a land mine expert and started laying them during the Civil War, using them to catch food and for the protection of his comrades. He later defected to the Vietnamese Army in 1987, but when the Vietnamese left Cambodia, he joined the National Cambodian Army against the remaining guerilla Khmer Rouge forces. He then worked with the UN as a de-miner. He was masterful at it. The ordinance around the museum was comprised of hundreds of mines of all types and sizes, grenades, and shells; all deactivated by Aki Ra. Apparently, around Cambodia, too many people attempted a DIY approach to explosive ordinance disposal and blew themselves up. Now, people need to get certified by the government and complete a training course to become disposal techs. The proceeds from the museum are two-fold. Half goes to landmine clearing and the other goes to schooling. Aki Ra has gotten many humanitarian awards and has been featured on CNN too. When he was interviewed by the Japanese press, they called him Aki Ra. He liked the name, so it stuck. Two very amazing men.
I negotiated with my TukTuk driver to take me back to the city for $10 as there was no wifi to call another one. I even gave him an extra $2 to grab lunch while I was in the museum. As we were driving back, we started talking about how expensive it was to see the temples. He told me that the year before it was $20 to get in. But now it was $37 because the Vietnamese took over the ticketing. $2 of the fee is sent to Phnom Pehn while $35 goes directly to Hanoi. I told him about the tricks they pulled on me in Vietnam. He told me more about state corruption here, how the government was selling away the rights of the people to the Vietnamese and the Chinese as we passed 3 resorts owned by these countries. He said that the poor were getting screwed. I told him that it is happening all over Asia as well as America. He sighed as he said the name of his country. I did the same. We shook hands after I paid him and he dropped me off at the hostel.
I switched rooms to avoid the snoring Chinese guy, which my hostel graciously allowed. I had lunch, had a beer, then took a nap. I walked around Pub Street for the rest of the night. Apparently, some form of truck rally was about to kick off.
The next day I woke up to the unsettling news that my flight from Bangkok to Oman to Dubai was changed. While my reservation was for May 27th, they changed it to the 28th. I spent the morning dealing with that, resigned to the fact that I would either need to spend another day in Bangkok and one less in Dubai.
Later, I decided to go scout out the rooftop pool at the sister hostel, which was fabulous. It offered an incredible sweeping view of Siem Reap. On my way there, a man on the street complimented my hat. I thanked him and continued walking. He asked me where I was from. Wanting to see where this was going, I told him New Orleans. His face beamed. He told me his sister was moving there next month. He called her on his cell phone then handed me the phone. I talked to her. He then told me that I should hop on the back of his bike to come visit his village and talk to her and his family. My gut was saying something was not 100%. Maybe it was paranoia, but if I wouldnʼt do it in the US, Iʼm certainly not going to do it while Iʼm alone in a foreign country.
Keeping up with American culture, I came back to the hostel and finally was able to watch the series finale of Game of Thrones. It was underwhelming, to say the least.
I then headed out for some local delicacies. During the Civil War and the reign of the Khmer Rouge, food was very scarce in the country. This was due to the fact that the Khmer Rouge was paying the Chinese for arms and supplies with crops like corn and rice, farmed by their captive country. If the starving people were caught stealing food, they would be severely beaten if not killed. It was because of this, many Cambodians had to get creative when it came to staying alive. Like most places, those that have been closest to starving to death have the most creative cuisine. Think of the French with their frogs’ legs, snails, and even veal. The Cambodians used what they had in excess, namely insects. And so, I headed to the Bug Cafe. To start things off and loosen my inhibition, I had a lovely shot of rice wine made with scorpion venom. It was so good, I bought a bottle. For an appetizer, I had little cakes made with ants. For my main course, I had a delicious fried sampler of crickets, silkworms, cockroaches, tarantulas, and scorpions. Cutting through the squishy yet hard carapace of the fried tarantula, exposing the white guts within was my Rubicon. After I cleared that mental hurdle, the rest of it was easy and I actually enjoyed going way, way out of my comfort zone.
After my exotic dinner, I decided to then do some last-minute shopping at the night markets. I finished out my last night in Cambodia with a beer on the roof of the hostel, looking out over Siem Reap with deep introspection what I had seen in this tragically beautiful country.
