Emerging from the plane to take our first steps on Cambodian soil, we were hit by intense heat and humidity which made Bangkok seem positively bracing! After months of relatively easy travelling through New Zealand and Australia, arriving in Cambodia meant that we'd be confronting new people, places and, of course a new language.
We were excited but apprehensive when were approached the passport and visas desk but sailed through - despite being stung for a $20 visa to cover our three week stay.
We took an extremely leisurely taxi ride from the airport into Phnom Penh and the California II Hotel on Sisowath Quay, which faced the wide and slow moving Tonle Sap River. On our way, we were buzzed by hordes of mopeds, many of them carrying four or five grinning Khmers. The Moto drivers would become a familiar sight during our stay, invariably seen sporting a baseball cap, weaving intricate patterns in the traffic, which seemed to be almost exclusively composed of other mopeds!
The streets were dusty and occasionally rubble strewn, but many of the French Colonial buildings remained - albeit in various states of repair, giving the city an air of faded grandeur. The beautiful, traditional Khmer structures of the Royal Palace and Silver Pagoda were something else entirely, a reminder of the once great culture which spawned the temples of Angkor.
Another reminder of the French influence on Phnom Penh was the proliferation of cafe bars running along Sisowath Quay. It was just as well, as the heat and humidity was almost unbearable and we found ourselves making regular refuelling stops. The young Khmer girls who made up the staff were without fail smiling and friendly even though one of them mistook us for brother and sister on one occasion!
We decided to walk to the Tuol Sleng Museum rather than take a moto. We weren't too keen on being involved in an enormous moto pile-up and thought that we'd get a better feel for Phnom Penh if we explored on foot.
Tuol Sleng was a high school in the early 70’s before the Khmer Rouge turned it into a detention and torture centre which would eventually claim the lives of more than 17,000 Cambodians and foreigners in the three years it was in operation. Walking round was a distressing experience. The torture rooms were stark and bare – except for rusted bed frames and shackles which hinted at the horrors which took place there. Further on, Row upon row of faces, from babies to grandparents, stared out impassively – photographs which the regime had taken for their records. The fact that only six people made it out of the prison when it was liberated meant that we were looking into the eyes of people who would had been tortured and killed a short time after their pictures were taken.
If the prison was distressing, our visit to the Killing Fields of Choeung Ek bordered on the surreal. We took a taxi away from Phnom Penh’s sprawl and headed down dusty, potholed roads into the countryside. With this being the dry season, the land was bleached by the hot sun and irrigation channels were reduced to arid tracks, occasionally walked by under nourished cows.
Choeung Ek was the site of an extermination camp where the condemned from the Tuol Sleng prison were transported to meet brutal and grisly ends. Once we made our way inside, we came to a huge memorial stupa which contained thousands of the victim’s skulls. We walked round the site accompanied by the twittering of birds until we reached the pits which had once been mass graves. Everywhere we looked, white bone fragments and tattered remnants of clothing poked out of the ground. All the while, we were pursued by a group of persistent little kids who asked for money or nyam nyams (sweets). One of them carried a water pistol, and when he pointed it at us, it was a little unnerving.
The genocide had obviously had massive impact on the country and it’s people and maybe it was something to to with its enormity and the recent instability which seemed to us to fill the Khmers with a sense of joy that those times were now behind them. Nowhere was this more evident than in the celebrations for Chual Chnam, the Khmer New Year which had the same water based theme as the Songkhran Festival in Bangkok.
Each night, we'd sit on the balcony and watch the street in front of the hotel fill with a multitude of mopeds with either side of the street lined with people armed with bottles, buckets and balloons filled with water. They’d bide their time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to let loose their projectiles, direct hits greeted with widespread laughter and cheering. Even though the hits soaked the recipients and often send them veering off course, we didn’t see a hint of malice or ill-will anywhere. Whole families would drive past either piled onto a moto or crammed into the front seat of a Cyclo with the sweating and sinewy driver pumping the pedals.
This went on for the three nights of the festival, and apart from the thudding Khmer disco music coming from the giant speakers of the Chinese restaurant next door keeping us awake, we had a great time watching the celebrations. After the first sleepless night, we came to the conclusion that it would be much more fun to join in and boogied the night away (quite an accomplishment as I usually need at least five or six pints before I inflict my particular, or should that be peculiar, brand of stiff, bent knee’d shuffling upon anyone!).
At one stage, a large group began dancing round a table to a slow number. They followed each other around the table, gently swaying and moving their hands in graceful circles. We guessed that this was based on a traditional dance as it all appeared very demure and proper, nothing like the shapes they’d all been throwing earlier!
The next day we paid a visit to the Silver Pagoda, so called because the floor is covered with over 5000 silver tiles. The Pagoda is also known as Wat Preah Keo, the Temple of the Emerald Buddha, due to the large crystal deity which had pride of place amongst a staggering array of Buddha images. Some were life-size, made of gold and encrusted in diamonds. Row upon row of smaller figures were lined up in glass cases around the outside of the room.
The Pagoda was only one part of the fascinating collection shrines, pavilions, gardens and galleries. We wandered round the Pagoda compound, enthralled by the giant mural of the Ramayama, an epic sanskrit poem which was delicately painted onto the walls stretching right round the the compound’s perimeter.
We spent much of our time sat in the cafes or the nearby internet joint which was extremely cheap and had fans and complimentary cold water, anything for a bit of respite from the heat outside. Occasionally, street kids would try to persuade us to buy a copy of the Cambodian Daily or the previous day’s Bangkok Times. We got quite friendly with Vilka, who sported an impressive collection of replica Premier League football shirts, so friendly in fact that he offered to rent us a copy of the paper as long as we gave back later so he could sell it to someone else!
Something we always looked forward to was the blast of cool air which hit us when we opened the door of our air conditioned room each night. Although it would go no lower than 18 degrees, it felt like we were walking into a freezer each evening, such was the temperature outside. The fridge was also well stocked with beers and other cold drinks, it was amazing that we ever left the creature comforts contained in our room!
Of course, with so much to see and do, we didn’t want to waste a second. The Psar Tuol Tom Pong or Russian Market was high on our ‘to do’ list as this is where we’d heard the best selection of crafts and bargains was to be found. Mr Thai, who’s customised moto was permanently parked outside the guest-house, became our unofficial chauffeur and was always available to take us to wherever we wanted to go. Unfortunately, it took three attempts to actually visit the market as it was deserted on the first two occasions we arrived. It was all down to the New Year holiday which, despite assurances to the contrary, continued for longer than we thought.
It was a case of third time lucky when we pulled up to find the market in full swing. A little like a mini version of Bangkok’s Chatuchak, the stalls were housed under a dilapidated, corrugated iron roof with the stalls beneath loosely arranged by the nature of goods sold. All the wooden crafts were together, as were the CD and silverware stalls. We paid little attention to the stifling heat as the array of crafts, clothing and potential souvenirs saw us flit from stall to stall, weighing up who had the most colourful Kramas, best Bhuddas and cheapest CDs!
Eventually though, the heat got too much and we went across the road for a drink. We bought some water and the lady who owned the shop invited us in to sit in the shade by the fan which whirred in the corner. Nakrai, who’s name was Khmer for Jasmine (we think), turned out to be yet another example of the friendly and generous spirited Cambodians we’d met so far. Her English was far superior to our Khmer and we had a pleasant chat before returning to the guest-house in the back of the ever dependable Mr Thai’s Moto taxi.
The following day, we availed ourselves of Mr Thai’s services once more as we made the short journey out of town to the airport. We’d arranged some internal flights at a travel agents in town and were about to take a flight north to Siem Reap - our base for exploring the ancient and extraordinary temples of Angkor...
|
