Our bus left Siem Reap almost at full speed and the driver nearly never took his hand off the horn. We careened down a dirt highway shared by trucks, cars, motorbikes, bicycles, carts and cows with no lanes and little visibility through the clouds of dust. At one point, gazing out at the slowly setting sun, through the fires smoldering in the slashed and burned fields, I lifted out of my seat and was suspended weightless in the air. The bus hardly slowed for the potholes, the elderly couple next to me puked into plastic bags, and the palm trees melted away for miles into the sunset. Normal stuff.
The bus ride from Siem Reap could have been a microcosm for the time we spent in Phnom Penh. The lawlessness of Cambodia continues to contribute to the depth of experience here. The past haunts the present just below the surface level, and both display a beauty and a nightmare hard to ignore.
It is difficult to distill experiences into a narrative. Sure, things happen in sequence and stories can be recounted, but there is always something lost in the translation.
The tuk-tuk driver that we relented to at the bus station knew right where our hostel was. We booked a room right above the bar of a hostel called The Mad Monkey. It was clean and comfortable, the food was awesome, the staff very friendly, and the bar had something special going on everyday.
On our first day, we walked to the National Culture Museum. Our internet research told us that the building was just as impressive as the exhibits it held. It did not disappoint. The central courtyard was stunning and surrounded by tall, steeply peaked and ornately decorated roofs. Within, we discovered a wealth of information that pieced together Angkor Wat, and the various Hindu and Buddhist traditions. It was enlightening.
We returned to the hostel just in time for the happy hour special: free beer from 6-7 or until the keg was kicked. The house was packed with people from all over the world, all friendly, welcoming and appreciative of the free shots handed out by the bartender after the free beer stopped flowing. The following morning was slow-paced.
It would be a disservice to visit Cambodia and not educate yourself about the brutal genocide that occurred here in the 1970’s. Forced labor, systematic cruelty, unspeakable brutality. Nearly 3.5 million people murdered, one out of every four people. The educated, the creative, the industrious targeted first.
A former elementary school in the center on Phnom Penh was turned into the S-21 prison and still today stands as a physical manifestation of evil. Walking its halls is a somber experience. Mug shots of men, women and children stare at you like ghosts. Just a fraction of the thousands of people who met their fate here.
We spent that night bar hopping and searching for live music. We played darts, found a jazz band, and sometimes things seemed so normal. But when you stop in a place long enough to observe, you can see the darker side. What happens to a culture when it loses its teachers, its artists, its free thinkers?
No place presents Cambodia’s past as bluntly as the Killing Fields. Truck loads of prisoners from S-21 shipped south of the city to a quick death. Mass graves litter the grounds. Again, the close interaction allowed at this cultural site deepens the visitors experience in profound ways. The faces of foreign visitors react to the audio tour in a silence that pierces. At your feet, tattered clothes, teeth and bones rise up from the ground as it wears away.
The Cambodian people do not shy away from this past and, in spite of it, smile. The people are friendly and proud. The culture is rich, its history is long and there is much to be celebrated. This country is not defined by one period of history.
That evening we unwound by the riverside. We strolled the wide boulevards and watched locals and visitors alike enjoy a beautiful day.
At night, we returned to the National Culture Museum for a local theatre production by Cambodian Living Arts. Through the story played out on stage we learn about marriage traditions, listen to traditional music, and see how different generations live and interact with each other. It was uplifting and presented an optimism and happiness that truly characterizes the Cambodian people more that their past ever could.
On our last day in Phnom Penh we took advantage of city accommodations like travelers often have to do. We did laundry. We spent as entire day in a cafe on the Internet. We drank good coffee and heathy juice shakes. And, what always seems to happen on our last night in a place, we found all the best places to go. We found a tiny restaurant where we watched the chef make pasta dough and stretch our noodles by hand (like an even more awesome Zoe Ma Ma in Boulder).
Then, we found our way down a dark alley to a rum distillery where we met some fun expats that have made Phnom Penh their home. We danced to a great funk band out of Canada that really brought the house down.
Phnom Penh was an amazing experience for the good and the bad we discovered here. It’s a city of unashamed truth and hurt; and of course, strength and love.
Have you been to Phnom Penh? What did you think?
HI Michelle, I am struck by your pictures and your writing. Great job.
Do I see a book in the future?? I would buy it.
Jutta
Thanks Jutta! So. Great to hear from you. Of the many career paths I’m now pondering, I’ll add author to the list! Hope you’re doing well. Hello to Jeff for me!