Father? - "Yes, son?" - I want to kill you. (Cambodia)

Member Name: harlequin21

Product:	Cambodia
Date:	31/08/09 (40 review reads)
Rating:

Advantages: A fascinating melting pot of Indochinese culture; a living museum of history; wonderful people

Disadvantages: Haunted by past wrongs; emotionally draining; erratic standards in parts; destitution

In the developed world, we have the good fortune of experiencing history only through stagnating relics of the past. In Cambodia, however, history lives and breathes, manifesting itself in everything, including the people. This tragic country, situated to the east of the Gulf of Thailand, is an interactive museum to its past. The Cambodian past belongs to the Khmer Empire, a civilisation that dominated and epitomised Indochina for six hundred years - roughly from 800 to 1431 A.D. Society was agrarian, agriculture the lifeblood of the empire, but the Khmer legacy was cemented by the architecture which even today defines the national spirit of Cambodia. Angkor Wat, the monolithic temple symbolising this prized past, takes pride of place on the Cambodian flag.

Indeed, Cambodians have much to be proud of given their roots, but while their ancestors very much made them, they inadvertently broke them. One may question how an empire so long gone could have such an impact on its descendents, though the answer is simple. The Khmer Empire may have been lost to the jungle for five hundred years, but following its rediscovery by the French, its frugal, agrarian legacy acquired a 'Marxist' interpretation by some political dissidents who would come to be known as the Khmer Rouge. Their leader, Saloth Sar (a.k.a. Pol Pot), sought to purify post-colonial Cambodia of all external influences such that the nation could 'restart', becoming an autarkic utopia. In what was then a modernising, moderate Cambodia these ideas found little sympathy, but things changed in 1969. Intending to stem North Vietnamese insurgency into the south, the Nixon administration laid waste to the border of neutral Cambodia, killing up to 600,000 peasants in a year long bombing campaign. Additionally, two million people were made homeless, and fled to the capital, Phnom Penh, in search of shelter only to find none. Bitterness mounted; the king, Sihanouk, was deposed of by the incompetent government, and fearing a loss of their national identity, the pro-monarchic Khmer Rouge found some support. By 1975, Pol Pot was able to seize power: the cities were subsequently evacuated, social undesirables (intellectuals, ethnic minorities, political enemies) rounded up, marking the advent of the 'Year Zero'.

Two million Cambodians (in a population of eight) had died by the time of the Vietnamese liberation/occupation in 1979. One million had starved or fallen ill, while a further million had been led under false pretence to execution in murder sites known as the killing fields. Despite the liberation, however, the civil strife continued until the convenient death of Pol Pot in 1998 and the official dissolution of the Khmer Rouge in 1999. But it's only now that Cambodians are in a position to administer justice for the missing generation, the remaining Khmer Rouge leaders not being captured until 2007. They are, proportionately speaking, responsible for one of the most destructive genocides in history, the architects of the mass depopulation of Cambodia.

Today, Cambodia is picking up where it left off. In the last fifteen years there has been a population boom, numbering the country at fourteen million people, fifty percent of whom are under sixteen. Those that remain of the elderly are an unusual sight, but although most Cambodians can't remember the genocide, if even the 1990s, the new 'Khmer' legacy breathes a cancerous atmosphere. Don't let this be misunderstood; Cambodia is a country rebuilding itself on tourism and the general vibe is optimistic, but the country very much resembles the thousands of maimed, limbless invalids who wander the streets trying to make a living. More than being the tourist haven that is Thailand, Cambodia is a living testament to the brutality of human nature, and they, as well as the west, are complicit in why Cambodia is as it is. Young, naïve Cambodians may have made up the Khmer Rouge, their vulnerability exploited so as to pressure them into oppressing and killing their parents, but America, sharing Vietnam as a mutual enemy, approved this genocidal regime. Likewise, China, endorsing any communist government, supported Pol Pot. Cambodia, more than anything, is a unique eye opener, a deeply touching and disturbing place which has much to offer. One needn't feel guilty about going, increasing tourism contributing to the huge economic boom that Cambodia is experiencing.

And so rich is Cambodia in history, culture and personality that its recent rediscovery as a tourist destination is understandable. With any luck, stability will only increase. My own trip took me to Siem Reap, home to Angkor, before I took a bus three hundred kilometres down a single highway to Phnom Penh, a ten dollar journey which took six hours. This, however, was just a glance into the heartland of Cambodia, allowing the experience of the old and the new capital, as well as the fertile, rural landscape which forms the nation's spine. There is more besides this; though mostly made up of rural plains, Cambodia has two mountain ranges, Dangrek lying to the north, with Cardamom to the east. But agrarian 'empires' came about here for a reason, since the landscape is fed by an endless supply of life-giving water. The mighty Mekong River, a leviathan meandering lazily through the lush landscape, gives and takes before vanishing into Vietnam in search of the ocean. It shares dominance with the native Tonlé Sap Lake, a shallow, freshwater basin which seasonally grows and shrinks across the floodplains, taking up some 25,000 square kilometres at its height. Floating fishing villages are dotted along its tributaries, whilst sailing out onto this ominous lake reveals no land on the horizon, only vast expanses of brown. The gargantuan reach of Tonlé Sap underlies all the major Cambodian provinces, and serves as a skeleton for the country's geography.

The country isn't big, its 181,000 kilometre area approximately the size of both England and Wales. Battambung, torn between Thailand and Cambodia, lies to the west of the Tonlé Sap, while Kampong Thum (the midway stop on the bus route) occupies one of the eastern tributaries. The only major town away from Tonlé Sap is Sihanoukville, Cambodia's main port and beach destination. Anywhere else untouched by the Tonlé Sap is less developed; the eastern provinces are completely rural, their only towns tiny. A northern most tributary extends to Siem Reap, a city which, given its relationship with Angkor, is probably the major tourist destination. Here is a modest town of largely unpaved roads, its palate a fusion of reds, oranges, browns and yellows, the development of the town riding very much on the coattails of the tourist trade, unlike Phnom Penh, for example. This is the town most in touch with its national identity, the atmosphere humbly optimistic, even though the destitution here can be quite severe. On the opposite of the spectrum, exclusive luxury hotels stand detached from the town, and indeed from reality. That said, besides Angkor, Siem Reap thrives on the catering and entertainment trades, the centre truly coming alive at night when weary tourists frequent the dozens of bars, clubs and restaurants. The clubs, alive with cheap but good quality alcohol (the local brew, Angkor, can be as little as fifty cents on draught), as well as a healthy mix of foreigners and locals, are a lot of fun and are the best way to experience the people. Modest, dry, hospitable and sociable, I find myself hard pressed to think of a people nicer than the Cambodians, who, especially for a developing country, are both easy and honest. Going to Cambodia and not mixing with the people would be an opportunity sorely missed as they're a chief factor in the country's appeal.

This isn't quite so much the case in Phnom Penh, a city situated on the southern most tributary of Tonlé Sap. Granted, the fact that it's a working city renders the locals somewhat reserved, but it's in the capital where memories of the genocide are most fresh. It festered following the evacuation, being left a post-colonial ghost town, inhabited only by 40,000 government administrators and soldiers, compared to the two million in 1975. Washed out by the grey of the Mekong, the capital is in stark contrast to Siem Reap, where, although it's more disorganised and the locals are more desperate, there appears to be more contentment. In Phnom Penh, the roads are better, infrastructure coming along (in some parts, the traffic lights are more advanced than in Europe), and the 'organisation' allows even many of the mine victims to make a living selling pirate DVDs. But the city is a time capsule, its numerous academic institutions curiously absent, and this feeling cannot be encapsulated more disturbingly than Tuol Sleng, the former high school utilised as the Khmer Rouge prison, S-21. Now a genocide museum, 20,000 prisoners passed through S-21 for interrogation and torture, each and every mug shot today in the facility. The killing field at Choung Ek (which today is also a genocide museum) would be their next stop. Fittingly, the latter was once a Chinese graveyard, and is the better known of the two museums, both of which are owned by the same French-Japanese company. Choung Ek, however, lying some fifteen kilometres outside of town, is oddly peaceful, the exhumation of eight thousand corpses somehow bringing it serenity. A glass stupa was erected - perhaps blasphemously given the revenue it generates - to house the eight thousand skulls. The blank-eyed skulls, their craniums cracked, are arranged by sex and age, a haunting sight but a powerful one that does justice to the victims. S-21 does no such justice. Though exhibited with the mug shots and, in one section of the prison, a comprehensive history, S-21 is untouched. Dried blood stains the tiled floors; bats loom silently; the same rusted iron beds and shackles are as the Vietnamese found them; and the same is true for the crude wooden and brick cells. Occupying floor two of building B, the wooden cells are sealed by now unlocked doors, and each one sways lazily in the stale air. Emerging then from the prison, numbed and drained, I came face to face with a beggar, holding out his hard cap, his face agelessly masked by disfigurement and mutilation. Everything around this place feels ghostly, S-21 the dark centre of Cambodia's modern history. The guides who are available to show the many tourists around aren't professionals; they're relatives and friends of the prisoners. History, Tuol Sleng and Chuong Ek tell us, is not to be a cycle.

It's difficult not to be affected by Phnom Penh. The educational value of the city, albeit bleak, is necessary and there are few other places where this education is so immediate: it extends beyond the genocide museums to the people themselves. Respite is possible. If you're feeling hypocritical, as we did (this being before seeing the museums, I hasten to add), there's a firing range on the outskirts, property of the Royal Cambodian Army. Financial inhibition is best dismissed here, magazines costing forty or fifty dollars, depending on the gun. Everywhere else is cheap, although don't underestimate the accumulative effect Cambodia can have on your wallet. In a typical family-run Khmer restaurant, it's possible to eat a substantial meal for about six dollars a head. For the three of us, three main courses and a starter, plus beer and water could come to as little as twenty dollars. Khmer cuisine itself is excellent, full of protein, blending Indian with Vietnamese, and, more recently, French. Fresh fish from the Tonlé Sap is barbequed or curried in a national dish called Amok, although beef is likewise plentiful. Wine, which, unusually for Asia, is popular, Khmer cellars filled with French Cabernets and Merlots. In bars, cocktail prices range between three and six dollars, depending on the venue and location. Phnom Penh on the riverside, for example, is full of elegant bars and bistros, but they are more expensive. A real blast from the past is the Foreign Correspondents Club, an atmospheric relic just as popular today as it was with the titular regulars then covering the effects of the bombings. Further into town it's generally cheaper, although be warned, the clubs in Phnom Penh aren't always safe, wealthy young Khmer, arrogant and aggressive, frequenting them. Accompanied by bodyguards and often armed with pistols, these unsavoury characters are best avoided. At night, it's not unusual to hear drunken gunfire in the distance.

As might be expected in a developing country, brutal petty crime can be an issue. The police are little more than gangsters themselves, their role to extort rather than assist. Because it's a working city, things are less intimate in Phnom Penh and as a general rule the people are more uptight, so when frequenting the streets caution is recommended. Motorcyclists are known to swoop by to snatch bags from gormless tourists so it's generally best to travel light. Road safety is also not of the highest standard, the main means of transport for most Cambodians being the motorbike. As a taxi driver quipped, some twenty percent of Cambodian drivers have licenses, the remaining eighty percent generally adolescent. Getting around is simple and cheap, but the roads are hectic, crammed with traffic and moreover, it's often questionable as to whether there is a specific side of the road to be driving on. For tourists trampling along in tuk-tuks, traffic is sometimes faced head-on, and on more neglected roads, potholes threaten to topple the vehicle. The corrupt Cambodian People's Party, their socialist government, are just about investing money into infrastructural improvement, but at the moment quality varies wildly.

Aside from the blue placards in the villages, government presence is minimal. The people sustain themselves, political philosophy inapplicable here, frugal survivalism the accepted way of life for Cambodians. Tourists will find themselves haggling for anything, be it a souvenir or a bottle of water. The children, who are most prevalent outside of Phnom Penh, pester tourists with photocopied history books, Lonely Planet guides, postcards, baguettes or, failing that, with their tenacious personalities. Amusing and warm as they are, they are professionals capitalising on their inherent charm, although their intentions are genuine. They're desperate to fund their educations (and are much better informed than many westerners), so buying is by no means naïve, but do expect to be accosted by others if you buy from or give alms to one. Hotspots for peddlers are around popular sites, Angkor Wat in particular, and it is to Cambodia's national symbol that I come to next.

Built over a thirty-seven year period, Angkor Wat was completed in 1150 A.D and marks the pinnacle of imperial Khmer power and excellence. It was built as a shrine to the Hindu God Vishnu, Cambodia itself a melting pot of religions, made up of Hindus, Cham Muslims and Buddhists, of whom the latter make up the official religion today (jovial, orange-robed monks hit the streets in the afternoon). The Khmer Empire was not a literary one, but its history is engraved in the epic murals that define Angkor Wat. The temple itself was intended as a symbolic piece of art, the five domes representing the five peaks of Mount Meru, home to the Hindu Gods, and the surrounding moat representative of the oceans. Any of the freelance tour guides will explain this and more, though Angkor Wat is just the centre of Angkor itself. There are more temples, most of which are being restored, but the most impressive is one thrown further back into the jungle; Ta Prohm. Unlike the others, Ta Prohm's restoration has been largely withheld so as to maintain the authenticity of the place. Possibly the most mystical and enigmatic of the temples, Ta Prohm really is world class, and, famously, was a filming location for Tomb Raider. A trip to Cambodia is quite simply not complete without a day spent traversing Angkor. Yes, there are many tourists (Koreans and Japanese in particular), but Angkor provides a bigger picture for Cambodia. This ancient city is intimately intertwined with Khmer culture, the site full of locals, a rarity for tourist hotspots. The Royal Palace in Phnom Penh, however, is the opposite of Angkor, its cold austerity alienating, Cambodians seeming to care less about it. Not only that, but what interest the palace holds comes at a high price (sixteen dollars per person). Angkor may be more expensive, but the twenty dollars one pays lasts a whole day, unlike the short-lived experience the palace offers. Moreover, three day or weeklong packages are available for Angkor, which are the better value for money given the amount there is to see.

It's quick and easy to get to Angkor from Siem Reap, be it with taxi, tuk-tuk or alone by rented bike. Similarly, Cambodia is a relatively accessible country, its two international airports, Siem Reap and Phnom Penh, modern, clean and organised. There are direct flights from Heathrow to both locations, although if you happen to be in Asia most budget airlines are a safe bet, Jetstar and Air Asia being the most popular. Return flights with said airlines shouldn't be more than two hundred pounds, while direct flights from Heathrow are going to be six hundred pounds if booked early enough with, say, Singapore Airlines. On arrival, visas are bought at customs, and cost twenty dollars per person, or twenty-two if you don't have a spare passport picture. There is also an exit tax of twenty-five dollars. As is probably now obvious, Cambodia's chief currency is the American dollar, but they also have Riel, the king's currency, of which there are four thousand to a dollar. Riel is used as change, next to no one using it for any substantial purchase, but it's still a good idea to have some spare. Accommodation is of a decent standard, mid-range hotels modestly priced (thirty dollars for a room). But the cheapest options are the local guest houses, which are clean, homely and full of friendly staff. Without air-con, a room can be as little as eight dollars a night, but the humid climate may render shelling out a few extra dollars a necessity for some. The climate itself is more or less constant, hovering around thirty degrees Celsius. The coolest and most popular time of year is the December-January period, whereas the hottest is April-May, when the rain is scarce. We were there during the rainy season, where morning and midday are brutalised by the sun, but come the afternoon the clouds gather and the temperature cools considerably. Rain tends to follow, cleaning the air to drown the earth.

It doesn't differ from the rest of Asia in this sense. But, besides this, Cambodia is not one with the rest of the South-East. The unworldly atmosphere and the people are unlike anything I've witnessed before, the profundity of this tragic, touching country subject to circumstance. A melting pot of cultures; a developing country in every sense of the word; a living museum to human nature, Cambodia is a gem, the surface of which has only been scratched here. It assaults the senses, the sensibilities, the intellect and the emotions, the silent ghost of the past forever omnipresent.

Summary: A beautifully imperfect victim of history, one which is finally up and coming.