Under the Khmer Rouge Regime (1975-1979) the genocide of nearly 2.5 million Cambodians occurred. The Killing Fields are a number of sites where mass killings were carried out. They, along with the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum in Phnom Penh, comprise the Cambodian monument to the memory of all those who lost their lives. Our descent into Cambodia marked a thirteen-year return for Moozh. In 1999, at the green age of 18, Moozh flew into Phnom Penh to do humanitarian work. It informed the framework for travel in Southeast Asia. His stories about Cambodia were legends of sorts for me. Stories of the heartbreaking poverty, the reality of disease and the sex trade in Southeast Asia, the legacy of the Khmer Rouge on the bodies and in the minds of each Cambodian person. The emotional reconciliation of conscience I experienced in Kathmandu, Cambodia had been that for Moozh, only he was there for months not just a week. He was volunteering with the Red Cross boating along the Mekong, not stuffing his face with momos and smoking sheesha like me. My favorite picture of him is of a scrawny, red bearded eighteen year old drinking from a coconut on a beach of Sihanoukville on New Years. It was Y2K, he was thin from months of eating plain rice and boiled chicken in the villages but there is a playful look of contentment of his face. The airport was a shack and a Tarmac. You had to hand over your passport at immigration with a US $20 tucked inside. Every guard had an AK-47. I carried all of these stories, legends, memories passed to me as we few into Phnom Pehn.
That's when we landed. It had doors that locked, new carpeting, even ambient light.
"Babe, LOOK at this place!"
Immigration included no bribing. Visa control even had those nifty Nexus fingerprinting machine. Our baggage hadn't been rifled or sliced open. Our guesthouse arranged a pick up for us at the airport. Sokha, who would become our driver for the next two days and who's answer to everything was a smile, welcomed us and was soon zooming through traffic towards the city centre. He made a point of showing us that he was wearing a helmet.
"It safer," he said, with a big thumbs up.
Something overwhelmed me as we were driving and I found myself fighting back tears. All the stories Moozh had told me about this place, all the experiences he had had, it had been transformed in ten short years to be something entirely new. Moozh exclaimed at the paved roads, the clean promenade along the riverside, the University with no broken windows. We drove past people laughing at food carts, playing badminton in parks, kids scrambling through jungle gyms. The circle of stars of the European Union graces the shiny and new, Council of the Ministers building and the Peace Palace bears a flawlessly new facade.
We were greeted by affectionate Cambodians who pointed us towards the best restaurants and did everything but tuck us in at night to make sure we were comfortable. Everything within a fifteen minute walk in all four directions, they pointed out things worth seeing. They patted our backs, they gave us side hugs. They told us that they had checked the AC right before we got there to be sure that it worked. We smiled at their sweetness, beleiving there to be a catch. But another pair of travellers arrived as we were headed out for dinner and they were given the same welcome.
We knew we had to make a stop off at the FCC, the Foreign Correspondents Club. Ascending to the stairs to the second story dining room, past photographs of kids no older than ten holding rifle and the heartbreaking devastation of the landscape during the Khmer Rouge. The place during the 80's and 90's where diplomats and journalists would liaison over a pint, trying to reconcile and make sense of what was going on with plenty of opportunism and manipulation thrown in. It is now like any restaurant, catering to Western tastes through New York Cheesecake and Spaghetti Bolognese. But from its second and third stories, it's a great view of the Mekong at sunset.
Cambodia has changed. It's history, though still very fresh, has seemingly gentrified. It is a history that has been moved through. It is now a framework of museums, tours, educational speakers. They drive on one side of the road. They have high rises and pop stars. In Bourdain's episode for Cambodia, he wandered into the central market and simply put it the best way. "www. What the f*** .com" His first trip to Cambodia had been in 2000 and his return in 2010. As he put it, there were still people walking around with half limbs from the Khmer Rouge regime. Moozh had echoed his sentiment in seeing the "new" Cambodia.
It's remarkable how little the average person knows about Khmer Rouge regime. The number of dead ranges anywhere from 740,000 to 3 million people, the most common estimate coming in at about 2 Million. "Enemies of the regime" were deliberately and systematically killed. Choueng Ek, better known as The Killing Fields, is the memorial of the extermination site during the Khmer Rouge regime. Once merely a site of graves that with each new rain storm, produced new remnants of the old regime. Rumours circle of scraps of partially degraded clothing still floating to the surface during storms, an ever present reminder. Fences encircle the graves of mother and their children or of victims buried without their heads, adorned with colourful bracelets and beads out of a sense of solidarity. The Tuol Sleng prison housed enemies of Pol Pot's Democratic Kamphuchea during the Khmer Rouge Regime. Chills ran up my back wandering through what used to be the classrooms of a high school, soon turned into torture chambers and prison cells. Grisly photographs of interned victims, both pre- and post- torture, reveals a disarmingly human face to the thousands that died in Tuol Sleng. Some look defiantly into the camera, some mothers with babies on their laps, while some have fear painted all over their faces, a knowing fear. Engineers, lawyers, monks and school teachers, anyone associated with the previous Lon Noi establishment was targeted and tortured into giving up names of family and friends who were similarly considered to be enemies of the regime. The second and third stories of the buildings were blanketed in chicken wire to prevent the prisoners from committing suicide by jumping. They were barely fed and even drinking water without permission resulted in beatings. Those in mass cells were shackled together while in private cells the prisoners were shackled to the walls. Survivors of the prison sit outside selling and autographing books, show their scars and accept offerings.
The Central Market: the locus of Bourdain's (and Moozh's) wtf exclamation. Once a poorly maintained building that smelled of rotting meat and mismanaged sewage is now resplendent in a new paint job and new management. The Central Market is where you go if you need to buy a "Patek Phillipe" for $25. Where you can buy fried crickets and a table setting for fifty people all in the same place. Stinky durian herds people from the front entrance inside. We grabbed noodle bowls for breakfast in the cafeteria-like mania bordering the market. I bought some sago and poached bananas in coconut milk from which I became sticky but satisfied. There are mountains of unstretched paintings by local artists, textured with acrylic paint, tight and narrow lanes of mens leather shoes and silk robes. The touts are incessant but most are willing to bargain. You usually have to turn down a Hello Kitty lunchbox at least once in order to get a painting or some of the hand carved statues but all in all that's not too high a price to pay.
Friday through Sunday, an square block a stone's throw from Wat Phnom that sits strangely vacant during the day hours transforms into a glittering night market targeted towards tourists to sell Angkor Wat miniatures and "I heart Cambodia" t-shirts. I found a "Tin Tin in Cambodia" t-shirt that I almost bought before I found out that it was made to fit Winnie the Pooh. The far west side of the market contains the most exciting part. A perimeter of food carts encircles a central are blanketed with woven mats and condiment dollies. Food and eating being what it is, the tourists are definitely the minority. Each food cart had a designated block of mats on which to seat their patrons and from there, the mania begins. Khmer girls, no older than ten, being ordered around by their mother or older sister ran with plates of food from fried rice and the Khmer-ized version of Som Tam with shredded morning glory, to grilled squid and fish balls on protruding skewers. I had the best fried rice of my life and tubes of green beans fried in a batter made from fish paste. For people-watching, the markets can't be beat. You can playfully bicker with the Khmer girls were aren't even the slightest bit hesitant to tell you you're full of shit. It was refreshing.
Bourdain's last bite on the episode is of Happy Pizza, a food craze of his first visit which, though reportedly hard to find, is still available these days. It's enough to say that standard seasonings on the pizza is replaced with something that inspires...happier feelings. Walking along the riverfront, it's fairly easy to spot a restaurant marketing "happy pizza" but without doing your research it can be hard to know where to go so you don't get led on. Our pizza, though it didn't deliver the buzz we were expecting, was still tasty.
What Moozh remembered of Wat Phnom when he went was that of a glorified marble house for rotting food. The offerings brought to the buddhas were forgotten and left to decay in the sunlight. There was human and animal faces everywhere and much of the beauty of the temple was cracked and busting apart. Like everything else had been, the temple he found upon his return was refurnished, clean and bustling with activity. Built in 1373, it has had to shoulder the damage of numerous wars and the debilitating effect of the Khmer Rouge. The main stupa has been repaired from artillery damage and the grounds that surrounded the "Temple on a Hill" are being further developed to include walking paths and brickwork. According to The Travel Channel, Wat Phnom is one of the 1000 Places You Must See Before You Die.
Phnom Penh seems to have no choice than to identify with its history but how the people and the culture have risen out of it, using whatever necessary, is a story of hope and resilience.
What I learned in Phnom Penh:
I don't eat tarantulas. And describing the texture as 'velvety' doesn't ingratiate me towards them AT ALL.
Wonton Soup is the best kind of breakfast.
Despite what we can tell ourselves we've 'learned' from history, it is amazing what horrifying things humans are still capable of inflicting on each other.
Quote from Phnom Penh:
Moozh: This isn't the airport!? Where are all the AK-47s?!
Bohemian Recommends
FCC Club - Legendary.
Europe Guest House - Clean, excellent staff, cheap and close to Riverside.
Night Market - Delicious food.
Happy Herb Pizza - Yup, basically what it sounds like.
Central Market - Great food market and cheap goods. Try the Vietnamese soups.
That's when we landed. It had doors that locked, new carpeting, even ambient light.
"Babe, LOOK at this place!"
Immigration included no bribing. Visa control even had those nifty Nexus fingerprinting machine. Our baggage hadn't been rifled or sliced open. Our guesthouse arranged a pick up for us at the airport. Sokha, who would become our driver for the next two days and who's answer to everything was a smile, welcomed us and was soon zooming through traffic towards the city centre. He made a point of showing us that he was wearing a helmet.
"It safer," he said, with a big thumbs up.
Something overwhelmed me as we were driving and I found myself fighting back tears. All the stories Moozh had told me about this place, all the experiences he had had, it had been transformed in ten short years to be something entirely new. Moozh exclaimed at the paved roads, the clean promenade along the riverside, the University with no broken windows. We drove past people laughing at food carts, playing badminton in parks, kids scrambling through jungle gyms. The circle of stars of the European Union graces the shiny and new, Council of the Ministers building and the Peace Palace bears a flawlessly new facade.
We were greeted by affectionate Cambodians who pointed us towards the best restaurants and did everything but tuck us in at night to make sure we were comfortable. Everything within a fifteen minute walk in all four directions, they pointed out things worth seeing. They patted our backs, they gave us side hugs. They told us that they had checked the AC right before we got there to be sure that it worked. We smiled at their sweetness, beleiving there to be a catch. But another pair of travellers arrived as we were headed out for dinner and they were given the same welcome.
We knew we had to make a stop off at the FCC, the Foreign Correspondents Club. Ascending to the stairs to the second story dining room, past photographs of kids no older than ten holding rifle and the heartbreaking devastation of the landscape during the Khmer Rouge. The place during the 80's and 90's where diplomats and journalists would liaison over a pint, trying to reconcile and make sense of what was going on with plenty of opportunism and manipulation thrown in. It is now like any restaurant, catering to Western tastes through New York Cheesecake and Spaghetti Bolognese. But from its second and third stories, it's a great view of the Mekong at sunset.
Cambodia has changed. It's history, though still very fresh, has seemingly gentrified. It is a history that has been moved through. It is now a framework of museums, tours, educational speakers. They drive on one side of the road. They have high rises and pop stars. In Bourdain's episode for Cambodia, he wandered into the central market and simply put it the best way. "www. What the f*** .com" His first trip to Cambodia had been in 2000 and his return in 2010. As he put it, there were still people walking around with half limbs from the Khmer Rouge regime. Moozh had echoed his sentiment in seeing the "new" Cambodia.
It's remarkable how little the average person knows about Khmer Rouge regime. The number of dead ranges anywhere from 740,000 to 3 million people, the most common estimate coming in at about 2 Million. "Enemies of the regime" were deliberately and systematically killed. Choueng Ek, better known as The Killing Fields, is the memorial of the extermination site during the Khmer Rouge regime. Once merely a site of graves that with each new rain storm, produced new remnants of the old regime. Rumours circle of scraps of partially degraded clothing still floating to the surface during storms, an ever present reminder. Fences encircle the graves of mother and their children or of victims buried without their heads, adorned with colourful bracelets and beads out of a sense of solidarity. The Tuol Sleng prison housed enemies of Pol Pot's Democratic Kamphuchea during the Khmer Rouge Regime. Chills ran up my back wandering through what used to be the classrooms of a high school, soon turned into torture chambers and prison cells. Grisly photographs of interned victims, both pre- and post- torture, reveals a disarmingly human face to the thousands that died in Tuol Sleng. Some look defiantly into the camera, some mothers with babies on their laps, while some have fear painted all over their faces, a knowing fear. Engineers, lawyers, monks and school teachers, anyone associated with the previous Lon Noi establishment was targeted and tortured into giving up names of family and friends who were similarly considered to be enemies of the regime. The second and third stories of the buildings were blanketed in chicken wire to prevent the prisoners from committing suicide by jumping. They were barely fed and even drinking water without permission resulted in beatings. Those in mass cells were shackled together while in private cells the prisoners were shackled to the walls. Survivors of the prison sit outside selling and autographing books, show their scars and accept offerings.
The Central Market: the locus of Bourdain's (and Moozh's) wtf exclamation. Once a poorly maintained building that smelled of rotting meat and mismanaged sewage is now resplendent in a new paint job and new management. The Central Market is where you go if you need to buy a "Patek Phillipe" for $25. Where you can buy fried crickets and a table setting for fifty people all in the same place. Stinky durian herds people from the front entrance inside. We grabbed noodle bowls for breakfast in the cafeteria-like mania bordering the market. I bought some sago and poached bananas in coconut milk from which I became sticky but satisfied. There are mountains of unstretched paintings by local artists, textured with acrylic paint, tight and narrow lanes of mens leather shoes and silk robes. The touts are incessant but most are willing to bargain. You usually have to turn down a Hello Kitty lunchbox at least once in order to get a painting or some of the hand carved statues but all in all that's not too high a price to pay.
Friday through Sunday, an square block a stone's throw from Wat Phnom that sits strangely vacant during the day hours transforms into a glittering night market targeted towards tourists to sell Angkor Wat miniatures and "I heart Cambodia" t-shirts. I found a "Tin Tin in Cambodia" t-shirt that I almost bought before I found out that it was made to fit Winnie the Pooh. The far west side of the market contains the most exciting part. A perimeter of food carts encircles a central are blanketed with woven mats and condiment dollies. Food and eating being what it is, the tourists are definitely the minority. Each food cart had a designated block of mats on which to seat their patrons and from there, the mania begins. Khmer girls, no older than ten, being ordered around by their mother or older sister ran with plates of food from fried rice and the Khmer-ized version of Som Tam with shredded morning glory, to grilled squid and fish balls on protruding skewers. I had the best fried rice of my life and tubes of green beans fried in a batter made from fish paste. For people-watching, the markets can't be beat. You can playfully bicker with the Khmer girls were aren't even the slightest bit hesitant to tell you you're full of shit. It was refreshing.
Bourdain's last bite on the episode is of Happy Pizza, a food craze of his first visit which, though reportedly hard to find, is still available these days. It's enough to say that standard seasonings on the pizza is replaced with something that inspires...happier feelings. Walking along the riverfront, it's fairly easy to spot a restaurant marketing "happy pizza" but without doing your research it can be hard to know where to go so you don't get led on. Our pizza, though it didn't deliver the buzz we were expecting, was still tasty.
What Moozh remembered of Wat Phnom when he went was that of a glorified marble house for rotting food. The offerings brought to the buddhas were forgotten and left to decay in the sunlight. There was human and animal faces everywhere and much of the beauty of the temple was cracked and busting apart. Like everything else had been, the temple he found upon his return was refurnished, clean and bustling with activity. Built in 1373, it has had to shoulder the damage of numerous wars and the debilitating effect of the Khmer Rouge. The main stupa has been repaired from artillery damage and the grounds that surrounded the "Temple on a Hill" are being further developed to include walking paths and brickwork. According to The Travel Channel, Wat Phnom is one of the 1000 Places You Must See Before You Die.
Phnom Penh seems to have no choice than to identify with its history but how the people and the culture have risen out of it, using whatever necessary, is a story of hope and resilience.
What I learned in Phnom Penh:
I don't eat tarantulas. And describing the texture as 'velvety' doesn't ingratiate me towards them AT ALL.
Wonton Soup is the best kind of breakfast.
Despite what we can tell ourselves we've 'learned' from history, it is amazing what horrifying things humans are still capable of inflicting on each other.
Quote from Phnom Penh:
Moozh: This isn't the airport!? Where are all the AK-47s?!
Bohemian Recommends
FCC Club - Legendary.
Europe Guest House - Clean, excellent staff, cheap and close to Riverside.
Night Market - Delicious food.
Happy Herb Pizza - Yup, basically what it sounds like.
Central Market - Great food market and cheap goods. Try the Vietnamese soups.