This page is devoted to my previous experience in Cambodia though it barely touches on my paddle down the Mekong River in a native wooden boat. This is about Cambodia in general and everything else I did in the country.
Adventures in Cambodia
By Garrett Cooper
19 Dec 2012 to 25 Jan 2013
On December 19, I arrived in Phnom Pen, the capital of Cambodia. It was after
midnight and I was exhausted from the 9 hours I had spent on a train and another
39 hours on planes and in airports. Though I wanted to start exploring
this new place that I had worked so hard to get to, I needed to find a
bed. I ended up in an overpriced hotel at $20 which had toothpaste smeared
on the wall.
The primary order of business was to find a cheaper hotel before noon and start
seeing some of the city while I got acclimatized and adjusted to the time
change. My first impressions were of the crowded sidewalks with no
walking space in some places because of all the parked motorcycles and vendors
in the way. Crossing streets at first can be an unsettling event since no
one will stop for a pedestrian and in some places there is seldom a break in
traffic. It is a common tourist mistake to try and dodge traffic by
adjusting their speed which causes confusion and makes the situation
worse. In this case, it would be better to be blindfolded and just walk
out into the street. Most of the traffic is small motorcycles, there are
few stop lights, and if there do happen to be lanes they mean almost nothing,
so traffic flows differently than at home. To cross these streets its
best to wait for a lull in traffic, take a deep breath and walk strait across
without turning or changing speeds. Have faith and the sea of puttering
motorcycles will part around you….hopefully.
Once I figured out how to cross the streets I found a better hotel with WIFI to stay
in for a few days at $8 a night, but when my neighbor would take a shower, dirty
water bubbled up out of the drain flooding my bathroom floor. Thankfully
he would turn the water off in time so it didn’t flood into my room.
While I was still not adjusted to the time difference on my second night in
Cambodia, I woke up around 1AM or so. I laid on the bed for a couple
hours before I couldn’t take it anymore, and went out for a walk. While
walking around at 2:30 or 3am I was approached by a woman who had ridden up on
the back of another girl’s motorcycle. She loudly said “WHATS YOUR NAME!?
WHATS YOUR NAME!?” She said this without giving me a chance to answer and
she tried to put her arm around mine. As I pulled my arm back her hand
went down towards my back pocket and my wallet. I pushed her away with my
forearm and stepped back. She ran back to her friend on the motorcycle
yelling what I assume was the Khmer equivalent to “GO! GO! GO!” and they sped
off. She probably thought I was drunk, and that late at night would be a
logical conclusion; however I hadn’t had a drop. Her tactics probably do
work on drunk or drugged people when she can more easily pick pockets or get
someone interested in female companionship. This reinforces my thoughts
on getting drunk while traveling, which is don’t do it unless you are in a
reasonably safe place.
While walking around I found an interesting pagoda with intricate designs all
over it. I was impressed by the religious architecture, shrines and idols
in Cambodia. They gave me the feeling that I was in a strange new country
that I wanted to learn about. It was at this pagoda where I met
Sanghai. The first time he spoke to me I brushed him off like all the
other Tuk Tuk drivers who constantly offer rides. While looking around
the pagoda Sanghai approached me again and his persistence was at first a
little annoying. You can’t blame the drivers, they really do need work
and many of them even live in their tuk tuk. He told me a bit about the
pagoda, and he needed work so badly that he offered to drive me around the rest
of the day for free if I gave him a job the next day. I needed a tuk tuk
anyway and I didn’t feel right riding with him for free so I hired him.
After we moved my stuff to the new hotel, Sanghai drove me to Tuol Sleng, better known
as S-21. This was a major interrogation center in the city used in the 70s
by the Khmer Rouge to torture and kill between 14,000 and 20,000
prisoners. The facility was once a school, a nice one with a beautiful
courtyard, but the court yard became a place to bring in new prisoners and the
classrooms became prison cells and torture chambers. Of all the
prisoners to enter S-21, only 7 are known to have survived (S-21 museum).
The KR kept good records including photographs of the majority of their
prisoners as well as detailed confessions which were tortured out of their
victims. It wasn’t only this school that was shut down, all education,
religion, commerce, private ownership, and even family ties were outlawed under
the Khmer Rouge.
Today, visitors can visit the site which has been turned into a genocide museum.
Some of the rooms have been kept as they were in the 70’s. The torture
rooms have a single rod iron bed frame and shackles to keep the prisoner tied
down. On the wall is a picture of a dead inmate, chained to what may have
been the same bed frame. There are several rooms like this throughout the
museum. In another building there are walls covered in thousands of
portraits of inmates including women, children, and mothers with babies.
In some of the photos you can see the fear, confusion, hatred, and in most a
broken spirit. There are many written confessions on display as well,
which are often obviously false. Prisoners often confessed to whatever the
torturer wanted them to say, even when it was absurd and meant their
death. Some confessions were totally obscure saying things like they were
plotting with the CIA or KGB against the organizations glorious plans in order
to keep the people in a state of poverty and misery. Many confessions are
shocking and I find it unbelievable that the KR considered these real
confessions of guilt. One confession from a prisoner stated that they were
against the communist KR because: “It favors social equality, it favors equal
happiness for all, it favors development, it protects national sovereignty,
Khmer-style communism.” (S-21 museum)
Ten rules were read to prisoners before being tortured. They are as follows,
though some are poorly translated.
“The Security of Regulation
1.You must answer accordingly to my questions- Don’t turn them away.
2.Don’t try to hide facts by making pretexts this and that You are strictly prohibited to contest me.
3.Don’t be a fool for you are a chap who dare thwart the revolution.
4.You must immediately answer my questions without wasting time to reflect.
5.Don’t tell me either about your immoralities or the essence of the revolution.
6.While getting lashes or electrification you must not cry at all.
7.Do nothing, sit still and wait for my orders. If there is no order, keep quiet.
When I ask you to do something, you must do it right away without protesting.
8.Do not make pretext about Kampuchea Krom in order to hide your secret or traitor.
9.If you don’t follow all the above rules, you shall get many lashes of electric wire.
10.If you disobey any point of my regulations you shall get either ten lashes or five
shocks of electric discharge.” (S-21 museum)
Some of these rules like #3 are subjective and redundant with other rules. They
blanket anything the prisoner does, so they are always breaking the rules, with
no way to win. If a prisoner breaks rule #6 by crying, #9 or #10 come into
effect which will likely cause them to break #6 again.
When I met Sanghai back at the gates of S-21 I was bombarded by several
beggars. One man was burned so badly over his body that he no longer had a
nose and where his ear once was, now housed a dot of white puss. Others
were amputees which common in Cambodia because of all the land mines. I
have learned through previous travels that in this situation it is best to
politely say no and keep walking. There was too much going on to stop, and
if I did give money, to which beggars? All of them? These people are
not begging because it’s an easy way to make money, they simply don’t have
anything else. I can’t help everyone, but still, its times like these that
I question my character and who I am.
When we got away I took Sanghai to lunch at a nearby restaurant. He seemed
to feel a bit out of place in this environment and probably never goes to a
restaurant on his own. He spoke enough English that we could communicate
well enough to get most points across, so he was a good source of
information. He told me that his dad had been killed by the KR and he
didn’t know why. In a later conversation he told me it happened when he
was young, and he remembers asking his sister where their dad was. She
had to tell him that dad wouldn’t be home again.
The next day I met with Sanghai and we went to the killing fields outside of
Phnom Pen. This is where the prisoners of S-21 were brought after
confessing to crimes they probably did not commit to be executed. There
were an estimated 20,000 killed here, and in 1978 as many as 300 a day were
brought in. There were so many that it was hard for the executioners to
keep up. Bullets were too expensive so all kinds of tools were used to
cut throats and bash heads, including a large plant stalk with an edge
naturally sharp enough to cut into flesh. The KR thought nothing of
killing, because in their minds “To free you is no gain; to kill you is no
loss.” (Killing Fields museum)
The executions took place under the blaring sounds of revolutionary KR
propaganda music from tin speakers hanging in the trees to cover the sounds of
screams. After the bodies were thrown into a pit, DDT was then spread
over the bodies to kill anyone who might still be alive and to cover the
smells. The regime was so extreme in their disregard for human life and
the pursuit of their impossible utopia that they believed it was “Better to
kill and innocent by mistake than to spare and enemy by mistake.” (Killing
Fields Museum) This quote was shocking to me because I don’t just
disagree with it, I believe the exact opposite.
Walking around the pits, if you take your time and really look into them you can still
find bits of bone and clothing coming out of the ground. There are many
pits, but beside one of them is a tree covered in bracelets as offerings and
prayers. This is known as the Killing Tree where children and babies would
be swung by the legs and beat against the tree until death and tossed into the
pit. Pieces of bone, brain, hair, and blood were left on the tree after
the killings. As the KR saw it, “To dig up grass, one must remove even the
roots.” (Killing Fields museum) The children were killed so none would be
left to take revenge when they grew up.
When the killing fields were discovered, the sights were beyond belief.
The pits were so full of bodies that even after they were buried, the bodies
swelled so much it cracked the earth open again exposing the rotting corpses.
Today, the pits have been dug up and most of the bone and clothing
has been collected. There is a large burial pillar which can be entered
and has thousands of skulls, many of which have smashed faces or holes from the
execution as well as other bones and some clothing.
My experiences at S-21 and the Killing fields was a moving one. It’s hard
to believe that people could do this to each other, but history has proved that
we are capable of these terrible crimes and that it will likely happen
again. Anyone coming to Cambodia needs to see these sights, it’s an
important experience and I believe it’s better to see than the famous Angkor
Watt that everybody flocks to.
There is more to Cambodia than its dark past with the Khmer Rouge and its
poverty. There are amazing religious buildings like Watt Phnom and the
Silver Pagoda as well as a rich Angkorian history which can be glimpsed at in
the national museum. Watt Phnom is full of interesting murals on the
walls and ceiling which depict stories of strange animals, gods, war, pain,
pleasure, poverty, wealth, death, and worship. In the center of the Watt
is a large gold Buddha statue and shrine surrounded by all sorts of smaller
idols and religious objects. In front of the shrine people pray on
mats. Outside in another part of the structure is a different shrine
known as the spirit house where people pray and light incense for the
dead.
The national museum was nice but to take pictures required an extra fee.
There were interesting artifacts but little written information about
them. What little there was, was written in Khmer, French, and lastly and
least in English. Even with the downsides of this museum it is well worth
the visit. This museum was my first close encounter with Naga and Garuda
of which I learned about through various sources but mostly word of mouth and
my own observation.
Naga had a special significance to me while I was in Cambodia. There are
stories of how the Naga protects those on the Mekong, and since I would later be
paddling down the river I wanted to learn more. Naga is a mythical serpent
with seven heads who guards the entrance to the spirit world. Naga is
commonly found carved on the ends of bridges and other places for
protection. According to one story I was told, one day when the
Buddha was meditating on the shores of the Mekong a demon came to attack him but
the Naga rose from the water and stood over the Buddha like an umbrella to
protect him. There are several variations to this story but this one I
heard in Cambodia. A giant seven headed snake sounds scary, but it is not
to be feared, in fact statues of Naga are all over Cambodia and appear to be as
relevant today as they were in the Angkorian period. Standing close to
these statues, with seven heads looking down at me while I stared back into them
gave me a strange feeling, like they could strike but wouldn’t. I could
have stood there for a long time just staring at it, but forced myself to
leave. Some stories say that there were many Nagas, but they did have a
king. Some believe that Naga was a real animal and that American soldiers
killed one in some remote part of Cambodia, which may have been the last
one.
Garuda is a half hawk half man figure who is also a guardian but Naga and Garuda
often do not get along and fight as the hawk and serpent fight. Garuda
brings people to the spirit world and is often depicted holding up the pillars
of a building or old Angkorian bridges. As Naga guards the spirit world
and bridges, Garuda brings people to the spirit world and holds up
bridges. While Naga and Garuda do not like each other, they are both good
and are depicted as coexisting in Cambodia. I am aware of several other stories, but
again, this is just what I have heard in Cambodia.
The Silver Pagoda is basically a much grander version of Watt Phnom and costs a
lot more to get into. It is in the same area as the royal palace but that
section was closed in respect for the recent death of King Sihanouk. The
pagoda is in a nice courtyard with a garden and a museum about Cambodia’s royal
history as well as some of the religious history and idols. In all, I
didn’t care for this place as much as other Watts and Pagodas in
Cambodia. It was too elitist and there were only tourists and monks with
some kind of special privilege. The locals can’t even afford to pray
here. At the entrance there was a British couple in front of me and the
woman didn’t have sleeves on her shirt. They had no problems selling her a
ticket but wouldn’t actually let her in. Apparently showing cleavage is
fine but the upper arm is not. She put on a shawl but this was still not
good enough because the man said that yes it is on now, but that she could take
it off once she got inside. I thought to myself that this is true, but by
that logic I could also go inside and take my pants off. Rules are rules I
suppose, and when visiting countries its best to follow them, even when they are
ridiculous. Cambodia is also the only country with a ridiculous law that
makes it illegal to ride a motorcycle during the day with the headlight on but
legal to ride at night with it off. In the end the British man made a big
scene before finally leaving. Later while seeing the museum sections of
the compound I walked past the door of one room I hadn’t seen yet. I
turned around to go in but a guard stopped me. Apparently I had gone
10ft. too far and it was too late to see what I had paid for, though I could
have walked around the loop again. I decided I was done and left.
The same night after going to the museum and Silver Pagoda I met with Zeman
Mcredie and we had a couple beers. Zeman was a contact I had in Cambodia
when I was still planning this trip. He owns a dirt bike adventure
motorcycling company called Cambodia Expeditions, and I was hoping to get an
internship with him but the tours he had just weren’t lining up with my
schedule, but at the last minute a small group booked a 9 day tour. He
was still a bit reluctant to take me because he didn’t want to be over staffed,
but later that night some of his close friends happened to be having an opening
night party for a guest house they owned. Zeman and I we went to the
party and after several beers he agreed to take me on the tour.
Now that I was going on a tour, I had to make sure and spend every day
productively in order to complete my other goal of paddling a native boat down
the Mekong River. I had a few days before the tour started so I decided
it would be best to go up to Stung Treng where I hoped to find a boat to paddle
down the river, so I would be ready to start the expedition after the
motorcycle tour. I rented a Honda XR 250 Baja dirt bike for $15 a day,
and rode out of the city on Christmas Eve.
The ride was good and I quickly got adjusted to the local traffic customs.
The road out of the city is very dusty with large portions unpaved and I wished
I had a mask. To make it worse there is too much traffic for the road to
handle effectively. Its places like these that bikes like the one I was on
save a lot of time. I have more opportunities to pass slow cars and can
even go off the road or over piles of dirt from construction to get around traffic.
While Cambodia is a Buddhist country, one of the roads I took on my ride appeared to
have a large Muslim community stretched out along the road. It would have
been interesting to stop here, at least to drink a coconut and get a quick feel
for the place but I was on a schedule, and I intended to keep it.
I found a boat maker about 20 km south of Kratie. It wasn’t in the best area
for me to buy a boat because I would need to get it trucked further than I
wanted, but the boats were perfect. Exactly what I envisioned myself
paddling. No one was home so I waited and eventually a girl came. I
tried to use my phrase book, but it proved nearly useless as it did every time I
used it, so I called a friend in the city to translate for me that I wanted a
boat. The connection was poor and the call was dropped a few times.
From what I understood the boats need to be ordered ahead of time even though
there were many in the yard. I would have had time to order one but it was
proving too difficult to communicate and I wanted to check farther north for one
anyway. I spent the night at a nice $6 hotel in Kratie.
In the morning I fished the ride to Stung Treng where I hoped to find a
boat. I went to the Riverside Guest House that Zeman had recommended to
me and while I was dropping off my stuff Sanghai called me to say Merry
Christmas. Not many people celebrate Christmas in this Buddhist country
and he is the only one to say Merry Christmas to me. After that, there
was no sign of the holiday, no decorations, and I was not in contact with any
other tourists so I was on my own. It wasn’t a bad day, and sacrificing
holidays is a part of doing an expedition like this.
I rode the river front of Stung Treng and out to another small village that lies
between the Mekong and Sekong rivers where they meet. This village was
beautiful and clean with buffalo wandering through the palm trees and houses on
stilts. There is no road, just a meandering trail that roughly follows the
riverbank in the shade of trees and over rickety little wooden bridges.
Children were playing, people were together, and everyone waved at me. My
face is almost sore from smiling at everyone so much. It is a beautiful
place and it would be nice to walk through this area and interact with the
people a little more, but for now I am on a mission to find a boat.
Exploring was nice but I didn’t find much to make me hopeful at buying a boat.
There is a place in town that rents out sit on top kayaks so I figured in the
worst case scenario I would be able to rent one for my expedition, but when I
asked they said they wouldn’t rent to me because I wouldn’t make it and they
would lose the boat. They would however sell me one and drive me up the
river where I wanted to start, where I could then get killed on the river but
they would already have my money and wouldn’t care what happened to me. I
decided to keep looking for a boat.
The next day I walked to the south of town trough a poorer neighborhood.
There were more boats but they were all too big, too long, too broken down, or
clearly not for sale. On my walk I found a monkey chained to a
tree. I have seen this before and I like to look at them as much as the
next person, but especially this monkey wasn’t happy about being there. I
kept my space as I walked around because he didn’t like me, but I feel bad for
the little guy, even though it scares me a little when it shows its
teeth. It’s obvious there is something off about this monkey, it’s in his
eyes and body language; like even if it doesn’t know exactly what it wants; it
does know that something is terribly wrong. I can’t help but
relate myself to this monkey. If I wasn’t doing this trip, this
expedition, and if I can’t always be planning the next expedition, I would be
like this monkey chained to a tree; cranky, angry, alone, scared, and blaming
others.
After another day without a boat I decided to go back to Kratie or the boat
maker to find something I could paddle, but on the ride out of town I found a
boat worth asking about. It was a dugout with one board on each side to
increase its height. I turned around and went back to the guesthouse
where I talked to the owners Tia and Mr. T Jr. about translating for me.
They said that since I am a friend of Zeman they will do whatever they can to
help me at no charge. I decided to hire a boat and driver to better see
the shorelines now that I had a translator. I could have gotten the boat
I had found on my way out of town but decided not to because of some
complexities in the deal I preferred not to mess around with. The driver
knew someone else selling an extra boat, and in the end that’s the one I agreed
to buy. It was a long tail boat, a little over 20ft. and designed to have
a motor. The seller agreed to keep it for me and I would be back in a
couple weeks after the motorcycle tour to pay him and get it.
I left the guest house early after a French influenced breakfast to hit the road
on the same route for a butt numbingly long ride back to Phnom Pen. I had
been considering what to do about a paddle since I hadn’t seen any I really
liked. I was getting a local style paddle which is very long, narrow and
flexible. I had never used one like this before and I wanted something a
little more familiar as I paddled down the strange new river in a boat I hadn’t
spent any time in. I wanted a traditional North American style canoe
paddle but I wasn’t going to find one in Cambodia so I called Sanghai to take me
to some wood workers. Some said they couldn’t make it, many clearly have
never seen written plans before and none spoke English. After a couple
days of searching for someone who could make it according to the plans I had
drawn up, I found a Vietnamese man who said he could do it. After much
explaining in English to Sanghai my plans and measurements which I had
previously translated to metric; Sanghai then translated them in Khmer, to a man
who primarily spoke Vietnamese, he said he could make it. There were more
than a few uncertainties due to the language barriers (note that “barriers” is
plural), his inexperience at reading plans, and he had never seen a paddle quite
like it. Sanghai said “He Vietnam, he good” and that since they have more
water, this man probably knew what he was doing. This was good enough
logic for me and I ordered my paddle to be made out of Bain wood. The
Vietnamese man could not write so Sanghai had to write up a contract in Khmer
that neither I nor the Vietnamese man could read. I paid a down payment
and said I would return in two weeks to get it.
Now that everything I needed to do was done, I decided to get a haircut before
the tour with Zeman. I went out in the morning to find someone to cut it
and there was only one place open in the morning, so that’s where I went.
The woman said her sister, who usually cuts hair, wasn’t in yet but would be
there in 10 minutes so I decided to wait. The ten minutes turned into
what must have been nearly thirty but I didn’t mind because her four year old
son was singing and dancing, mostly to English Christmas songs and he kept me
occupied. When the lady arrived and began cutting my hair, the clippers
were very slow, would bog down and pull my hair before finally quitting
completely halfway through the cut. She then had to go to the market to
buy new clippers and she said 10 minutes but of course was much longer.
If I had my hat I would have gone somewhere else to get it finished, but I was
trapped with half a haircut. When it was finally finished the cut cost me
three dollars and 2.5 hours. They were sorry and I understand but sheesh!
2.5 hours, what a waste of time.
The time had come for Zeman to go to the airport to pick up the clients and I
was excited for it. I was going to meet them for dinner and drinks at
Chuck Norris Dim Sum “Git Sum!” but I decided I was too sick. I was
miserable in fact. I had a fever, was puking up things I didn’t remember
eating and had other less pleasant symptoms. I didn’t make it out that
night but was able to ride out with them the next morning on day one of their
tour.
Not long after we started the bikes and got onto the road, still in the city I went
to the front of the group at a stoplight to speak to Zeman. When I looked
back at the group I was met with a comic expression of fear and shock from the
stress of riding these hectic and lawless streets. Their eyes were wide
and darting all over. I am sure they didn’t think it was funny, but I did. I understood
the fear though because I remember my first ride in bad traffic in a foreign country
and it can be a shocking experience.
Once we were out of the city they relaxed a little bit. We went to a
pagoda where we took our boots and helmets off and went inside. We
approached a friendly looking monk who sat on a raised platform. We knelt
or sat on a mat below the monk, careful not to show him the bottoms of our
feet. An old widow lit incense while the monk put a handful of red
bracelets into a gold bowl. The bracelets were then sprayed with
something, perhaps some sort of perfume and the monk quietly chanted into the
bowl. After the chant, the monk and widow took the bracelets out of the
bowl and tied them to our wrists. He began chanting more loudly to us
while dipping a brush which was made from some sort of plants tied together,
and flung water onto us with it. While being blessed by the monk we were
supposed to focus on the positive things we wanted, specifically a safe
expedition. The monk then went outside and blessed our
motorcycles, chanting and flinging water on to them. As strange as it
sounds I haven’t ridden an unblessed motorcycle since January 2010 and this is
the second country and religion I have had one blessed in after Copacabana in Bolivia.
We rode on to Campong Cham which has what is likely the largest bamboo bridge in
Asia and spanned the Mekong River. Ridding across this bridge was an
interesting experience. The top layer of bamboo was crushed but still had
enough flex to slap down onto the next layer making a surprisingly loud
clacking sound and a wave like motion as we rode over it. Each year the
bridge is washed away by the flood and has to be rebuilt for the dry season.
On the second day of the tour which was New Year’s Eve we went off road.
Not far down the trail, one rider crashed in the sand and the bike landed on her
hip giving her a good bruise. It was hard for her to walk but she was
fine after a little rest, the bike however was not. It was no longer
possible to shift so I gave her my bike, I got the mechanics kick start bike,
and he got the broken one to ride stuck in second or third gear. When she
got on the bike, not 100 yards further on she started to crash again and pulled
the throttle open, shooting herself off the trail and luckily into tall grass
instead of the trees. It was all good fun but in the end we had to hire a boy
to ride her bike while she rode on the back of another guides bike so we
would make it to camp before dark.
When we made it to camp we settled in and drank a beer. We were camping at
the entrance of an amazing temple complex. It was Preah Khan, the second
largest Angkorian temple complex after Angkor Watt and there are no tourist
busses traveling on these jungle trails to get to it. We had the place to
ourselves besides a few curious locals. Our tents were set up on the
bridge over the moat which has many images of Garuda at the base. The
entrance to the complex is guarded by Naga and surrounded by a moat and
wall. The entrance way is intact as well as some of the structures inside
the complex and there are even some statues and apsara images which have so far
survived the looters. Apsaras were dancers, often sensual, which are
commonly displayed on Angkorian ruins, but many have had their faces cut off by
looters. Many of the kinds of things I saw in the museum are in this
temple and others I saw in remote places, but these are much more amazing than
any museum because it feels more real. To me, this temple is way better
than Angkor Watt, but others might not see it that way because it’s not on the
cover of their guide book.
To celebrate the New Year we had a good barbeque, beer, and fireworks. In
the morning, the ruins were perfectly framed in my tent window, and through the
door I could see the sun rise over the moat while exotic birds whooped and sung
in the trees. This is one of my favorite places in Cambodia, and its
location makes it even more special. We had to ride down narrow trails
and remote villages full of naked kids and people with no concept of large
amounts of money. We traveled with thousands of dollars in gear and
motorcycles, and for the price of my boots they could buy a house which is a
major step for them to get a wife. Everyone came out to wave as we rode
past, and when we stopped for a drink they gathered around to watch.
These interactions are always special, especially when the interest is mutual.
It’s important to not get too complacent while exploring ruins and ridding some of
the trails in Cambodia. Large areas have been carpeted with land mines by
the Khmer Rouge, especially temple complexes and other ruins. These were
the only really strong buildings in Cambodia so the KR used them for various
reasons including as ammo depots. Land mines were put all around the
temples to protect the supplies, and while most have been demined and are now
safe inside the complex and on trails, it might not be safe outside the complex
walls. In some areas there are signs warning of the nearby mine fields,
reminding us that Cambodia is one of the most heavily mined countries in the world.
After a good breakfast at camp we rode out. Many obstacles we encounter while riding
in Cambodia on dirt bikes and in body armor which would make many westerners
cringe, but were easily done by locals three up on a small bike carrying
chickens with minimal traction and suspension. The ride was good and
we stayed in a basic guesthouse near the only pyramid style ruins in Cambodia
called Koh Ker.
The locals near Koh Ker were hopeful that more tourists would come to visit when
the new road gets put in, but I am doubtful. Even with a better road it’s
too far off the usual tourist track without much around it. Tourists
coming to Cambodia will want to see Angkor Watt and there is so much to see
there that they will be “templed out” and won’t go to see the pyramid or other
ruins further away. Zeman said this is the second time they have tried to
improve the area in an attempt to bring in tourists. The first time, they
built the guest house we were in which also happened to be the only two story
building in the province.
We rode into Siem Reap which literally means “Keep out Siamese” where we stayed
for two days. On the day we arrived I went for a walk around town, but my
exploration was limited from fatigue and diarrhea. I saw enough to know
that it is a typical high volume tourist town where it is easy to find someone
who speaks English and the traditional market is converted to a clean souvenir
selling “traditional” market.
In the morning I decided to go with the clients for the day to see the sun rise
over Angkor Watt. There must have been a couple thousand other people
there with the same idea. It makes me wonder where all the money goes
since its $25 a ticket. The ticket is pretty nice I suppose and has the
ticket holder’s picture printed on it. After sun rise we only took 1.5
hours to explore the main complex. It deserves much more time but we only
had the day to see as much as we could. I will not write about Angkor
Watt or the surrounding ruins since there is much more complete and easily
accessible information, but I will say that anyone who goes to Cambodia and
does not see these ruins are selling themselves short. There is a lot to
see in the area which really deserves at least a few days, it is well
preserved, and even fighting the crowds it’s fun to explore.
For sunset we went to the floating village on the Tonle Sap Lake. We had
to hire a boat to get there, and it is another tourist place but still
maintains much of its village feel. To get there we had to hire a boat,
and on the way out a man in a motorboat pulled up right next to us so his
daughter could jump onto ours like a skilled pirate. She was selling some
drinks and I was so impressed I bought a Fanta. When she was done her dad
pulled up again and she jumped from our boat to his, without even
pausing. This all happened on quickly moving boats and over wakes from
other boats. It was fluid and practiced over their life time, it is
obvious watching the skill and dexterity of the people here, that they are born
and live on the water their entire lives. A bit further on we narrowly
missed colliding with another boat that was being driven by a boy who must have
been five. When they passed I saw a man working at the back of the boat,
they must have lost steering. They came even closer to hitting the boat
behind us before finally stopping.
As we entered the village, there were women inside cages made with nets and were
partially in the water. There were thousands of small fish jumping all
over the cage as the women swung tennis racket like tools, swatting the fish out
of the air. They just sat there fanning the racket back and forth,
smacking fish all over. I have never seen anything like this and it was
kind of funny to watch. As we approached the floating restaurant, some
locals approached us in boats holding snakes. One had a very small girl,
not more than 3 years old holding one of the biggest snakes I saw. They
hold snakes to get pictures taken and amuse tourists in the hopes they are given
a dollar. Among the snake handlers were two boys paddling around in what
look like large tin mixing bowls that required constant bailing. Since the
bowl was round, they had to develop a very good sculling technique with the
paddle that allowed them to zip around with amazing control. I can’t help
laughing while I watched these boys play around. Some of the other boats
are set up with mini hammocks for babies and the boats are often paddled from
the bow, pulling water under the boat.
When we got to the floating restaurant I saw a big opening in one section of the
floor with a rail around it. Inside were several very large crocodiles
with garbage all over their cage. I drank a coconut and ordered some fish
while we waited for the sunset. It was nice when the sun was dropping
below the horizon, but that’s when everyone started leaving. I recommended
to the group that we stay a bit longer because I suspected that the sky would
light up again when the sun got below the horizon at the right angle.
Everyone left except for us and I was right. The sun shined up to the
clouds on the horizon with a beautiful orange glow as the boys paddled their
bowls home, barely floating above the water line under the second round of the
sunset. In one day we had sunrise over Angkor Watt and sun set from a
floating village, not a bad day.
We left Siem Reap saving plenty to see for the next time. We had lunch in
Battambang at a place that took a very long time, which increased the amount of
time we had to spend riding in the dark down dusty dirt roads. I never
like to ride at night, especially in foreign countries. To make matters
worse I had a poor headlight, and as the medic I ride in the back which is the
dustiest place to be. I covered large sections without ever seeing the
ground while trying to stay close enough to the bike ahead of me to see their
taillight and follow it as closely as possible without hitting anything.
At one point it was possible for me to ride beside another bike and share
headlights but as I rode, a massive set of horns on a large grey head appeared
right in front of me. It was a water buffalo standing in the ditch that
looked over its shoulder to see us. I don’t know how I didn’t hit the
horns, I was headed right to them, but I missed. This is why I don’t like
to ride at night; it wasn’t skill that made me miss the buffalo, just luck.
As I travel around Cambodia I have had some interesting foods. Spiders are
better than they sound if you brave enough to take bites out of a big one, a
cricket/cockroach bug wasn’t as good, but the worst thing I had was a giant
green melon that grows to the size of two basketballs. It smells terrible
and can be eaten raw or cooked into cakes. Zeman likes it raw but thinks
the cake tastes like rotting fish, I on the other hand like the cakes but
couldn’t even swallow one bite of it fresh. I got past the smell but the
taste cannot be compared to anything I have ever had. It’s horrible but
with a slight sweetness and a texture that is soft with a skin that makes it
even more disgusting. I had to spit it out and try to control my gag
reflex. Another interesting food we had at the coast seemed to have
everything they could scoop up from the ocean made into a soup. It had
squid, scallops, fish, prawns, vegetables, other plants and more ingredients I
didn’t recognize. It was good, but I’m sure it’s fun for the locals to
watch us eat, because not everything Cambodians put in their soup is meant to be
eaten. Without the local knowledge there is no way to know what is what
until biting into a plant that can’t be chewed or has a flavor too strong to
eat. Most of us spit out something the locals wouldn’t have put in their
mouths. Lok Lak is a traditional Khmer dish with rice and a meat with a
strong lemon, salt, pepper, and other spices sauce on the side. Lok Lak is
very good and I ate a lot while in Cambodia. It can even be found English
style which comes with fries.
The day after I barely missed the buffalo we went to the small
village of Che Pat. There are no roads to this village so we took the
ferry which was two boats with a wood plank deck holding them
together. To board the ferry we had to ride down the riverbank and up a single
wood board. It took some time because only two or three bikes could go at a
time without sinking the ferry.
Once we were in the village, we got lunch and checked into one of the most basic
accommodations of the trip. There was no running water so to take a bath
everyone scoops water out of a big tub which is also used to pore water into the
squat toilet on the floor since there is no real flush. After we ate lunch
we rode up a trail with a man who told us about some clay pots and a burial
site. Zeman had never been there, and we were more than a little
intrigued. The ride out was one of the best of the tour on a trail that
had everything from sand, to bigger rocks, to water crossings, to smooth dirt,
fun corners and even a small wildfire burning along the trail for the return trip.
Once we got as far as we could ride we had to continue up the hill into the jungle
for about 20 minutes until arriving at two ladders which went up to some caves
in the cliff. At the top, careful to avoid the ants, there are some very
well preserved clay pots dating from the 15th-17th
century. A bit further on and there is a larger cave with vines hanging
over like a curtain, full of several small five cornered caskets carved from one
piece of wood with the lid sitting on top. Some of the lids collapsed in
or were moved slightly to reveal some of the bones inside. Some bones were
missing and some were broken including a skull. The coffins were too small
to fit anyone but very small children inside but they were adult bones, so I
wonder if the bones were broken to fit, and what happened with all the tissue
before it was put in the casket? Did the bodies decay before burial?
Cannibalism? I don’t know but an intact person will not fit.
Throughout the tour I saw many crashes causing lots of bruises, swelling, soreness,
and limps, but while they were beat up, they were okay. As the
medic it was my job to ride in the back of the pack with Kien the
mechanic. After a crash I would check rider, and Kien checked the
bike. Usually we just put them back on and continued the ride. I saw
some crashes that worried me though, like when I came around a corner and
everyone was stopped looking at a rider who was twisted up under his bike.
He wasn’t moving and I ran up, carefully lifted the bike off and he got
up. Somehow the bike landed on him pinning both his arms so he couldn’t
move. I thought his neck was broken or something but he was just relaxing
under the bike waiting for help. The worst crash was on the last day on a
dirt road. I expected a crash like this the whole tour because when there
was a hazard the riders would raise one hand to warn the others. The
problem with this is that it is very difficult to ride through a hazard with one
hand on the bars. One rider saw the person in front of her hit a huge pot
hole. She thought it was a big hazard so instead of just raising her hand
she held it up longer than usual and waved it. It looked like she was
signaling the rider behind her to pass, so he did and hit the pothole. He
made it but the signaling rider was waving her hand instead of avoiding the
obstacle so she hit the pot hole and crashed hard. The rider behind her
was preparing to pass and was right behind the crash. The second rider
then hit the pothole and the other downed bike making a loud crashing sound and
a big cloud of dust. The second one to crash said she narrowly missed the first
downed rider and had to crash into her bike to avoid hitting her. I
thought I would have two patients, but both were generally okay besides being
shaken, getting new bruises, and scratched and ripped ridding gear. The
knee pad and riding pants on one of the riders prevented what would have been a
serious injury. After a rest we made the ride to Sihonukville where Zeman
lives and was the end of the tour.
This was an incredibly good learning experience for me, and I learned a lot about
taking care of clients and ridding. Zeman is the real deal and I am glad
to have worked with him. Most people don’t understand things that I wish I
could explain to them about traveling, especially with the freedom of a
motorcycle. Zeman already knows. We explore for the sake of it, and sharing the
experience with clients is a great way to do what we love and make a living out of it.
Zeman started riding as a way to explore, it’s the perfect way to find temples in the jungle
and chase rumors of ruins. This is also how I started to ride in
Oregon. I used to look for mines and the remnants of cabins up in the
mountains. I dreamed of finding a lost mine with a fat vein of gold
waiting for me to scoop it out which would fund bigger and better things.
When I made it back to Phnom Pen I called Sanghai so we could get my paddle. We
went to the shop, a phone call was made and the Vietnamese man rode up on his
motorcycle, looking very proud of the paddle he carried over his shoulder.
He said it was harder than expected and took him four days to finish. It
was much beefier than I expected, but was fine after some more sanding on the
edges. It could use some more work to fine tune it, but it was okay and
did what I needed it to do. This paddle, which I called my battle axe,
drew small crowds if interested people who wanted to see and hold it. They
have never seen a paddle like this, and since I got it made to fit me, it was
very big for them.
I took a bus to Stung Treng where my boat was, which was supposed to take ten
hours but a flat tire delayed us further. We made it eventually and I
stayed at the same guest house as the last time I was here with Tia and T Jr.
who were very helpful. From here I got supplies and successfully completed
my expedition down the Mekong River.
My Mekong expedition ended in Kratie where I stayed a couple days. I stayed
in the same hotel I was in a month ago because it was the most convenient to get
to from the water. They even put me in the same room I had the last time
which was on the highest floor in the farthest corner. They probably liked
watching me carry all my gear up and get soaked with sweat.
In the afternoon I met a Spanish woman named Judith who was managing an NGO radio
station in Cambodia. She told me about the censorship in the country and
how the people out in the provinces (a general term used for everything outside
the cities, specifically Phnom Pen) are very limited in the information they can
get. Communication is obstructed to prevent the organization of groups who
would question the government. Right now, these people only know what the
government tells them through the one radio station besides the two hour segment
by the NGO.
The new radio station sponsored by the NGO has only just started and is heavily
regulated by the government. There is no complaining or questioning the
government allowed on air, property and land issues are forbidden, and what they
will broadcast is reviewed by a government representative before it airs.
Across Cambodia large tracts of land that have been settled by communities with
no land ownership for generations is being given away by the government, forcing
the locals to move, but to who is the land given and why? There are
several dams being built by the Chinese one of which recently broke killing
several Cambodians, the jungle is being cut at the third highest rate in the
world reducing its cover from 70% in 1970 to about 3% in 2007 (Wikipedia) with
nothing to show for it, there are casinos near the border owned by companies in
Laos where it is illegal to gamble but Cambodians are not allowed in. The
radio station is not allowed to talk about any of this because the government
knows that the public would be outraged about all the corruption and injustice,
and that with the organizing power of radio, there could be significant civil
unrest. The station is not even allowed to take callers on the air because
the government is afraid of what they will say. So for now the only things
the station airs are educational segments teaching some English, and other
community based announcements so the locals know a little about what is going on
in there province; at least what the government thinks is okay for them to
know. I actually heard the station in one of the few places I got
reception on the river, and instead of hearing local music or at least the Khmer
language, I got an English lesson. The NGO is always working with the
government to try to say more but if they push too hard it will be shut
down.
I am hopeful for the radio station and I hope it develops into something more. I
see it as a step in the right direction for a better Cambodia and towards free
speech. They are even going to give out solar radios so more people can
tune in. Judith is not as optimistic as I am, she doesn’t think it’s a big
deal, and that it probably won’t have much effect. The reason they are
there however is to have an effect; radio is a powerful tool to share ideas,
information, and uniting people in a way that was previously not possible in
these remote provinces, and I hope it lives up to its potential.
My last night in Kratie had one of the most amazing sunsets I have ever seen.
There are many incredible sunsets over the Mekong but this one was
different. It wasn’t the sky or horizon that was so amazing, but the
water. Before the sun reached the horizon line it reflected off the Mekong
making a glittering gold bridge which nearly spanned the entire river, and
wasn’t too bright to look at. I sat there and stared at it for its entire
duration, imagining myself walking across this glowing path. If I should
ever see the path to heaven, this is what I expect it to look like.
I took a mini bus from Kratie to Phnom Pen because it’s much faster than a bus,
but it is also more dangerous because of the reckless driving. One ticket
doesn’t get you one seat in Cambodia, a three person row will have four tickets
sold and I had to buy two tickets to have the front seat to myself.
On one of my last nights in Cambodia I was drinking a beer and reading “Candid” by
Voltaire at a bar in Phnom Pen with many prostitutes around. There are
many prostitutes in the city who are always looking to provide company to
tourists, and old white guys are a surprisingly major source of income. By
coincidence I read a section of the book about a girl that the main character,
Candid, had known years before but had now become a prostitute. Candid
believed the prostitute and the man she was with looked happy and therefore were
happy. Candid’s companion doubted their happiness and they decided to
speak to them and find out if they were happy or not. When they questioned
the girl, she explained why she does it, how she got there, and what her life is
like. As I read this there was a Frenchman and his
“girlfriend” playing pool. They seemed closer than most “couples” and they
were with another girl who was doing her job and kept trying to get my
attention. She was interrupting my reading, and wanted me to sit with her
but I kept declining and continued with my book when it struck me that that I
had the same opportunity as Candid did to learn something about their happiness.
I talked with the Frenchman who has been living in Myanmar as a bar tender but met
the girl in Cambodia. He has visited her a couple times, spent some time
with her son and bought him a bike, and now he is trying to get the paperwork
done so she can live with him. He seemed like a smart and nice guy, but
was a little different. I wondered what made them fall in love, for how
long, and about their past but decided not to ask because it might have seemed
rude. While we talked the girl who wanted me to sit with them got hungry,
left and came back a little later with a bag of bugs. I ate one but prefer spiders.
The Frenchman and his girlfriend eventually left and I was alone with the
girl. I had told her from the beginning that I would not go anywhere with
her but she must have not understood, thought I would change my mind, or didn’t
believe me. She occasionally said things like “make boom boom” and “eat
hotdog” as well as make some strange facial gestures that were probably meant to
be sexy but were quite the opposite. When she was convinced I wouldn’t do
anything with her and she received what was probably the tenth phone call that
she ignored we started talking a little more normally. She told me that a
Norwegan man had been calling her and harassing her. She had actually
moved to Norway with him for seven months and he made her get his name tattooed
on her back. She said he was “boxing” her, cheating on her, made her get a
new phone number and lose all her old contacts. She left him and came back
to Cambodia, but he has been calling her mom, saying “mean” things to her.
She said “mean” but I believe she meant that he was saying threatening
things. She told me he had been calling all night and everyday asking for
her back and when that failed he would say “mean” things. She said she
cries every night and was clearly worried about him, even as she spoke she tried
to hold back tears. She told me how she doesn’t want anything to do with
him but he was coming to Cambodia anyway to try to get her back.
I think Candid and I came to a similar conclusion about prostitutes and
happiness. When I met her she seemed to be happy and having a good time
but the smallest amount of investigation revealed may answers to questions I
hardly had to ask. I gave her some money for her time before leaving her
with enough of the night left to find another client if she needed to.
Prostitution is big business here and is one of the best paid jobs, so I won’t
judge her based on her profession, but it is a sad and dirty job.
After 37 days in Cambodia I called Sanghai to take me to the airport. Because of
a laundry mix up I had a bag of wet clothes I had to dry in the airport, but I
didn’t expect to leave Cambodia as smoothly as I entered anyway. After I
paid $30 for overstaying my visa for six days I flew out of this amazing country
with the full intent to return.
References
Choeung Ek Killing Fields Memorial. (December 2012). Choeung Ek, Cambodia.
The Killing Fields Museum. (2013). Retrieved from http://www.killingfieldsmuseum.com/s21-victims.html
Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum, S-21. (December 2012). Phnom Pen, Cambodia.
Wikipedia. (2013). Deforestation in Cambodia. Retrieved from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/DeforestationinCambodia
Adventures in Cambodia
By Garrett Cooper
19 Dec 2012 to 25 Jan 2013
On December 19, I arrived in Phnom Pen, the capital of Cambodia. It was after
midnight and I was exhausted from the 9 hours I had spent on a train and another
39 hours on planes and in airports. Though I wanted to start exploring
this new place that I had worked so hard to get to, I needed to find a
bed. I ended up in an overpriced hotel at $20 which had toothpaste smeared
on the wall.
The primary order of business was to find a cheaper hotel before noon and start
seeing some of the city while I got acclimatized and adjusted to the time
change. My first impressions were of the crowded sidewalks with no
walking space in some places because of all the parked motorcycles and vendors
in the way. Crossing streets at first can be an unsettling event since no
one will stop for a pedestrian and in some places there is seldom a break in
traffic. It is a common tourist mistake to try and dodge traffic by
adjusting their speed which causes confusion and makes the situation
worse. In this case, it would be better to be blindfolded and just walk
out into the street. Most of the traffic is small motorcycles, there are
few stop lights, and if there do happen to be lanes they mean almost nothing,
so traffic flows differently than at home. To cross these streets its
best to wait for a lull in traffic, take a deep breath and walk strait across
without turning or changing speeds. Have faith and the sea of puttering
motorcycles will part around you….hopefully.
Once I figured out how to cross the streets I found a better hotel with WIFI to stay
in for a few days at $8 a night, but when my neighbor would take a shower, dirty
water bubbled up out of the drain flooding my bathroom floor. Thankfully
he would turn the water off in time so it didn’t flood into my room.
While I was still not adjusted to the time difference on my second night in
Cambodia, I woke up around 1AM or so. I laid on the bed for a couple
hours before I couldn’t take it anymore, and went out for a walk. While
walking around at 2:30 or 3am I was approached by a woman who had ridden up on
the back of another girl’s motorcycle. She loudly said “WHATS YOUR NAME!?
WHATS YOUR NAME!?” She said this without giving me a chance to answer and
she tried to put her arm around mine. As I pulled my arm back her hand
went down towards my back pocket and my wallet. I pushed her away with my
forearm and stepped back. She ran back to her friend on the motorcycle
yelling what I assume was the Khmer equivalent to “GO! GO! GO!” and they sped
off. She probably thought I was drunk, and that late at night would be a
logical conclusion; however I hadn’t had a drop. Her tactics probably do
work on drunk or drugged people when she can more easily pick pockets or get
someone interested in female companionship. This reinforces my thoughts
on getting drunk while traveling, which is don’t do it unless you are in a
reasonably safe place.
While walking around I found an interesting pagoda with intricate designs all
over it. I was impressed by the religious architecture, shrines and idols
in Cambodia. They gave me the feeling that I was in a strange new country
that I wanted to learn about. It was at this pagoda where I met
Sanghai. The first time he spoke to me I brushed him off like all the
other Tuk Tuk drivers who constantly offer rides. While looking around
the pagoda Sanghai approached me again and his persistence was at first a
little annoying. You can’t blame the drivers, they really do need work
and many of them even live in their tuk tuk. He told me a bit about the
pagoda, and he needed work so badly that he offered to drive me around the rest
of the day for free if I gave him a job the next day. I needed a tuk tuk
anyway and I didn’t feel right riding with him for free so I hired him.
After we moved my stuff to the new hotel, Sanghai drove me to Tuol Sleng, better known
as S-21. This was a major interrogation center in the city used in the 70s
by the Khmer Rouge to torture and kill between 14,000 and 20,000
prisoners. The facility was once a school, a nice one with a beautiful
courtyard, but the court yard became a place to bring in new prisoners and the
classrooms became prison cells and torture chambers. Of all the
prisoners to enter S-21, only 7 are known to have survived (S-21 museum).
The KR kept good records including photographs of the majority of their
prisoners as well as detailed confessions which were tortured out of their
victims. It wasn’t only this school that was shut down, all education,
religion, commerce, private ownership, and even family ties were outlawed under
the Khmer Rouge.
Today, visitors can visit the site which has been turned into a genocide museum.
Some of the rooms have been kept as they were in the 70’s. The torture
rooms have a single rod iron bed frame and shackles to keep the prisoner tied
down. On the wall is a picture of a dead inmate, chained to what may have
been the same bed frame. There are several rooms like this throughout the
museum. In another building there are walls covered in thousands of
portraits of inmates including women, children, and mothers with babies.
In some of the photos you can see the fear, confusion, hatred, and in most a
broken spirit. There are many written confessions on display as well,
which are often obviously false. Prisoners often confessed to whatever the
torturer wanted them to say, even when it was absurd and meant their
death. Some confessions were totally obscure saying things like they were
plotting with the CIA or KGB against the organizations glorious plans in order
to keep the people in a state of poverty and misery. Many confessions are
shocking and I find it unbelievable that the KR considered these real
confessions of guilt. One confession from a prisoner stated that they were
against the communist KR because: “It favors social equality, it favors equal
happiness for all, it favors development, it protects national sovereignty,
Khmer-style communism.” (S-21 museum)
Ten rules were read to prisoners before being tortured. They are as follows,
though some are poorly translated.
“The Security of Regulation
1.You must answer accordingly to my questions- Don’t turn them away.
2.Don’t try to hide facts by making pretexts this and that You are strictly prohibited to contest me.
3.Don’t be a fool for you are a chap who dare thwart the revolution.
4.You must immediately answer my questions without wasting time to reflect.
5.Don’t tell me either about your immoralities or the essence of the revolution.
6.While getting lashes or electrification you must not cry at all.
7.Do nothing, sit still and wait for my orders. If there is no order, keep quiet.
When I ask you to do something, you must do it right away without protesting.
8.Do not make pretext about Kampuchea Krom in order to hide your secret or traitor.
9.If you don’t follow all the above rules, you shall get many lashes of electric wire.
10.If you disobey any point of my regulations you shall get either ten lashes or five
shocks of electric discharge.” (S-21 museum)
Some of these rules like #3 are subjective and redundant with other rules. They
blanket anything the prisoner does, so they are always breaking the rules, with
no way to win. If a prisoner breaks rule #6 by crying, #9 or #10 come into
effect which will likely cause them to break #6 again.
When I met Sanghai back at the gates of S-21 I was bombarded by several
beggars. One man was burned so badly over his body that he no longer had a
nose and where his ear once was, now housed a dot of white puss. Others
were amputees which common in Cambodia because of all the land mines. I
have learned through previous travels that in this situation it is best to
politely say no and keep walking. There was too much going on to stop, and
if I did give money, to which beggars? All of them? These people are
not begging because it’s an easy way to make money, they simply don’t have
anything else. I can’t help everyone, but still, its times like these that
I question my character and who I am.
When we got away I took Sanghai to lunch at a nearby restaurant. He seemed
to feel a bit out of place in this environment and probably never goes to a
restaurant on his own. He spoke enough English that we could communicate
well enough to get most points across, so he was a good source of
information. He told me that his dad had been killed by the KR and he
didn’t know why. In a later conversation he told me it happened when he
was young, and he remembers asking his sister where their dad was. She
had to tell him that dad wouldn’t be home again.
The next day I met with Sanghai and we went to the killing fields outside of
Phnom Pen. This is where the prisoners of S-21 were brought after
confessing to crimes they probably did not commit to be executed. There
were an estimated 20,000 killed here, and in 1978 as many as 300 a day were
brought in. There were so many that it was hard for the executioners to
keep up. Bullets were too expensive so all kinds of tools were used to
cut throats and bash heads, including a large plant stalk with an edge
naturally sharp enough to cut into flesh. The KR thought nothing of
killing, because in their minds “To free you is no gain; to kill you is no
loss.” (Killing Fields museum)
The executions took place under the blaring sounds of revolutionary KR
propaganda music from tin speakers hanging in the trees to cover the sounds of
screams. After the bodies were thrown into a pit, DDT was then spread
over the bodies to kill anyone who might still be alive and to cover the
smells. The regime was so extreme in their disregard for human life and
the pursuit of their impossible utopia that they believed it was “Better to
kill and innocent by mistake than to spare and enemy by mistake.” (Killing
Fields Museum) This quote was shocking to me because I don’t just
disagree with it, I believe the exact opposite.
Walking around the pits, if you take your time and really look into them you can still
find bits of bone and clothing coming out of the ground. There are many
pits, but beside one of them is a tree covered in bracelets as offerings and
prayers. This is known as the Killing Tree where children and babies would
be swung by the legs and beat against the tree until death and tossed into the
pit. Pieces of bone, brain, hair, and blood were left on the tree after
the killings. As the KR saw it, “To dig up grass, one must remove even the
roots.” (Killing Fields museum) The children were killed so none would be
left to take revenge when they grew up.
When the killing fields were discovered, the sights were beyond belief.
The pits were so full of bodies that even after they were buried, the bodies
swelled so much it cracked the earth open again exposing the rotting corpses.
Today, the pits have been dug up and most of the bone and clothing
has been collected. There is a large burial pillar which can be entered
and has thousands of skulls, many of which have smashed faces or holes from the
execution as well as other bones and some clothing.
My experiences at S-21 and the Killing fields was a moving one. It’s hard
to believe that people could do this to each other, but history has proved that
we are capable of these terrible crimes and that it will likely happen
again. Anyone coming to Cambodia needs to see these sights, it’s an
important experience and I believe it’s better to see than the famous Angkor
Watt that everybody flocks to.
There is more to Cambodia than its dark past with the Khmer Rouge and its
poverty. There are amazing religious buildings like Watt Phnom and the
Silver Pagoda as well as a rich Angkorian history which can be glimpsed at in
the national museum. Watt Phnom is full of interesting murals on the
walls and ceiling which depict stories of strange animals, gods, war, pain,
pleasure, poverty, wealth, death, and worship. In the center of the Watt
is a large gold Buddha statue and shrine surrounded by all sorts of smaller
idols and religious objects. In front of the shrine people pray on
mats. Outside in another part of the structure is a different shrine
known as the spirit house where people pray and light incense for the
dead.
The national museum was nice but to take pictures required an extra fee.
There were interesting artifacts but little written information about
them. What little there was, was written in Khmer, French, and lastly and
least in English. Even with the downsides of this museum it is well worth
the visit. This museum was my first close encounter with Naga and Garuda
of which I learned about through various sources but mostly word of mouth and
my own observation.
Naga had a special significance to me while I was in Cambodia. There are
stories of how the Naga protects those on the Mekong, and since I would later be
paddling down the river I wanted to learn more. Naga is a mythical serpent
with seven heads who guards the entrance to the spirit world. Naga is
commonly found carved on the ends of bridges and other places for
protection. According to one story I was told, one day when the
Buddha was meditating on the shores of the Mekong a demon came to attack him but
the Naga rose from the water and stood over the Buddha like an umbrella to
protect him. There are several variations to this story but this one I
heard in Cambodia. A giant seven headed snake sounds scary, but it is not
to be feared, in fact statues of Naga are all over Cambodia and appear to be as
relevant today as they were in the Angkorian period. Standing close to
these statues, with seven heads looking down at me while I stared back into them
gave me a strange feeling, like they could strike but wouldn’t. I could
have stood there for a long time just staring at it, but forced myself to
leave. Some stories say that there were many Nagas, but they did have a
king. Some believe that Naga was a real animal and that American soldiers
killed one in some remote part of Cambodia, which may have been the last
one.
Garuda is a half hawk half man figure who is also a guardian but Naga and Garuda
often do not get along and fight as the hawk and serpent fight. Garuda
brings people to the spirit world and is often depicted holding up the pillars
of a building or old Angkorian bridges. As Naga guards the spirit world
and bridges, Garuda brings people to the spirit world and holds up
bridges. While Naga and Garuda do not like each other, they are both good
and are depicted as coexisting in Cambodia. I am aware of several other stories, but
again, this is just what I have heard in Cambodia.
The Silver Pagoda is basically a much grander version of Watt Phnom and costs a
lot more to get into. It is in the same area as the royal palace but that
section was closed in respect for the recent death of King Sihanouk. The
pagoda is in a nice courtyard with a garden and a museum about Cambodia’s royal
history as well as some of the religious history and idols. In all, I
didn’t care for this place as much as other Watts and Pagodas in
Cambodia. It was too elitist and there were only tourists and monks with
some kind of special privilege. The locals can’t even afford to pray
here. At the entrance there was a British couple in front of me and the
woman didn’t have sleeves on her shirt. They had no problems selling her a
ticket but wouldn’t actually let her in. Apparently showing cleavage is
fine but the upper arm is not. She put on a shawl but this was still not
good enough because the man said that yes it is on now, but that she could take
it off once she got inside. I thought to myself that this is true, but by
that logic I could also go inside and take my pants off. Rules are rules I
suppose, and when visiting countries its best to follow them, even when they are
ridiculous. Cambodia is also the only country with a ridiculous law that
makes it illegal to ride a motorcycle during the day with the headlight on but
legal to ride at night with it off. In the end the British man made a big
scene before finally leaving. Later while seeing the museum sections of
the compound I walked past the door of one room I hadn’t seen yet. I
turned around to go in but a guard stopped me. Apparently I had gone
10ft. too far and it was too late to see what I had paid for, though I could
have walked around the loop again. I decided I was done and left.
The same night after going to the museum and Silver Pagoda I met with Zeman
Mcredie and we had a couple beers. Zeman was a contact I had in Cambodia
when I was still planning this trip. He owns a dirt bike adventure
motorcycling company called Cambodia Expeditions, and I was hoping to get an
internship with him but the tours he had just weren’t lining up with my
schedule, but at the last minute a small group booked a 9 day tour. He
was still a bit reluctant to take me because he didn’t want to be over staffed,
but later that night some of his close friends happened to be having an opening
night party for a guest house they owned. Zeman and I we went to the
party and after several beers he agreed to take me on the tour.
Now that I was going on a tour, I had to make sure and spend every day
productively in order to complete my other goal of paddling a native boat down
the Mekong River. I had a few days before the tour started so I decided
it would be best to go up to Stung Treng where I hoped to find a boat to paddle
down the river, so I would be ready to start the expedition after the
motorcycle tour. I rented a Honda XR 250 Baja dirt bike for $15 a day,
and rode out of the city on Christmas Eve.
The ride was good and I quickly got adjusted to the local traffic customs.
The road out of the city is very dusty with large portions unpaved and I wished
I had a mask. To make it worse there is too much traffic for the road to
handle effectively. Its places like these that bikes like the one I was on
save a lot of time. I have more opportunities to pass slow cars and can
even go off the road or over piles of dirt from construction to get around traffic.
While Cambodia is a Buddhist country, one of the roads I took on my ride appeared to
have a large Muslim community stretched out along the road. It would have
been interesting to stop here, at least to drink a coconut and get a quick feel
for the place but I was on a schedule, and I intended to keep it.
I found a boat maker about 20 km south of Kratie. It wasn’t in the best area
for me to buy a boat because I would need to get it trucked further than I
wanted, but the boats were perfect. Exactly what I envisioned myself
paddling. No one was home so I waited and eventually a girl came. I
tried to use my phrase book, but it proved nearly useless as it did every time I
used it, so I called a friend in the city to translate for me that I wanted a
boat. The connection was poor and the call was dropped a few times.
From what I understood the boats need to be ordered ahead of time even though
there were many in the yard. I would have had time to order one but it was
proving too difficult to communicate and I wanted to check farther north for one
anyway. I spent the night at a nice $6 hotel in Kratie.
In the morning I fished the ride to Stung Treng where I hoped to find a
boat. I went to the Riverside Guest House that Zeman had recommended to
me and while I was dropping off my stuff Sanghai called me to say Merry
Christmas. Not many people celebrate Christmas in this Buddhist country
and he is the only one to say Merry Christmas to me. After that, there
was no sign of the holiday, no decorations, and I was not in contact with any
other tourists so I was on my own. It wasn’t a bad day, and sacrificing
holidays is a part of doing an expedition like this.
I rode the river front of Stung Treng and out to another small village that lies
between the Mekong and Sekong rivers where they meet. This village was
beautiful and clean with buffalo wandering through the palm trees and houses on
stilts. There is no road, just a meandering trail that roughly follows the
riverbank in the shade of trees and over rickety little wooden bridges.
Children were playing, people were together, and everyone waved at me. My
face is almost sore from smiling at everyone so much. It is a beautiful
place and it would be nice to walk through this area and interact with the
people a little more, but for now I am on a mission to find a boat.
Exploring was nice but I didn’t find much to make me hopeful at buying a boat.
There is a place in town that rents out sit on top kayaks so I figured in the
worst case scenario I would be able to rent one for my expedition, but when I
asked they said they wouldn’t rent to me because I wouldn’t make it and they
would lose the boat. They would however sell me one and drive me up the
river where I wanted to start, where I could then get killed on the river but
they would already have my money and wouldn’t care what happened to me. I
decided to keep looking for a boat.
The next day I walked to the south of town trough a poorer neighborhood.
There were more boats but they were all too big, too long, too broken down, or
clearly not for sale. On my walk I found a monkey chained to a
tree. I have seen this before and I like to look at them as much as the
next person, but especially this monkey wasn’t happy about being there. I
kept my space as I walked around because he didn’t like me, but I feel bad for
the little guy, even though it scares me a little when it shows its
teeth. It’s obvious there is something off about this monkey, it’s in his
eyes and body language; like even if it doesn’t know exactly what it wants; it
does know that something is terribly wrong. I can’t help but
relate myself to this monkey. If I wasn’t doing this trip, this
expedition, and if I can’t always be planning the next expedition, I would be
like this monkey chained to a tree; cranky, angry, alone, scared, and blaming
others.
After another day without a boat I decided to go back to Kratie or the boat
maker to find something I could paddle, but on the ride out of town I found a
boat worth asking about. It was a dugout with one board on each side to
increase its height. I turned around and went back to the guesthouse
where I talked to the owners Tia and Mr. T Jr. about translating for me.
They said that since I am a friend of Zeman they will do whatever they can to
help me at no charge. I decided to hire a boat and driver to better see
the shorelines now that I had a translator. I could have gotten the boat
I had found on my way out of town but decided not to because of some
complexities in the deal I preferred not to mess around with. The driver
knew someone else selling an extra boat, and in the end that’s the one I agreed
to buy. It was a long tail boat, a little over 20ft. and designed to have
a motor. The seller agreed to keep it for me and I would be back in a
couple weeks after the motorcycle tour to pay him and get it.
I left the guest house early after a French influenced breakfast to hit the road
on the same route for a butt numbingly long ride back to Phnom Pen. I had
been considering what to do about a paddle since I hadn’t seen any I really
liked. I was getting a local style paddle which is very long, narrow and
flexible. I had never used one like this before and I wanted something a
little more familiar as I paddled down the strange new river in a boat I hadn’t
spent any time in. I wanted a traditional North American style canoe
paddle but I wasn’t going to find one in Cambodia so I called Sanghai to take me
to some wood workers. Some said they couldn’t make it, many clearly have
never seen written plans before and none spoke English. After a couple
days of searching for someone who could make it according to the plans I had
drawn up, I found a Vietnamese man who said he could do it. After much
explaining in English to Sanghai my plans and measurements which I had
previously translated to metric; Sanghai then translated them in Khmer, to a man
who primarily spoke Vietnamese, he said he could make it. There were more
than a few uncertainties due to the language barriers (note that “barriers” is
plural), his inexperience at reading plans, and he had never seen a paddle quite
like it. Sanghai said “He Vietnam, he good” and that since they have more
water, this man probably knew what he was doing. This was good enough
logic for me and I ordered my paddle to be made out of Bain wood. The
Vietnamese man could not write so Sanghai had to write up a contract in Khmer
that neither I nor the Vietnamese man could read. I paid a down payment
and said I would return in two weeks to get it.
Now that everything I needed to do was done, I decided to get a haircut before
the tour with Zeman. I went out in the morning to find someone to cut it
and there was only one place open in the morning, so that’s where I went.
The woman said her sister, who usually cuts hair, wasn’t in yet but would be
there in 10 minutes so I decided to wait. The ten minutes turned into
what must have been nearly thirty but I didn’t mind because her four year old
son was singing and dancing, mostly to English Christmas songs and he kept me
occupied. When the lady arrived and began cutting my hair, the clippers
were very slow, would bog down and pull my hair before finally quitting
completely halfway through the cut. She then had to go to the market to
buy new clippers and she said 10 minutes but of course was much longer.
If I had my hat I would have gone somewhere else to get it finished, but I was
trapped with half a haircut. When it was finally finished the cut cost me
three dollars and 2.5 hours. They were sorry and I understand but sheesh!
2.5 hours, what a waste of time.
The time had come for Zeman to go to the airport to pick up the clients and I
was excited for it. I was going to meet them for dinner and drinks at
Chuck Norris Dim Sum “Git Sum!” but I decided I was too sick. I was
miserable in fact. I had a fever, was puking up things I didn’t remember
eating and had other less pleasant symptoms. I didn’t make it out that
night but was able to ride out with them the next morning on day one of their
tour.
Not long after we started the bikes and got onto the road, still in the city I went
to the front of the group at a stoplight to speak to Zeman. When I looked
back at the group I was met with a comic expression of fear and shock from the
stress of riding these hectic and lawless streets. Their eyes were wide
and darting all over. I am sure they didn’t think it was funny, but I did. I understood
the fear though because I remember my first ride in bad traffic in a foreign country
and it can be a shocking experience.
Once we were out of the city they relaxed a little bit. We went to a
pagoda where we took our boots and helmets off and went inside. We
approached a friendly looking monk who sat on a raised platform. We knelt
or sat on a mat below the monk, careful not to show him the bottoms of our
feet. An old widow lit incense while the monk put a handful of red
bracelets into a gold bowl. The bracelets were then sprayed with
something, perhaps some sort of perfume and the monk quietly chanted into the
bowl. After the chant, the monk and widow took the bracelets out of the
bowl and tied them to our wrists. He began chanting more loudly to us
while dipping a brush which was made from some sort of plants tied together,
and flung water onto us with it. While being blessed by the monk we were
supposed to focus on the positive things we wanted, specifically a safe
expedition. The monk then went outside and blessed our
motorcycles, chanting and flinging water on to them. As strange as it
sounds I haven’t ridden an unblessed motorcycle since January 2010 and this is
the second country and religion I have had one blessed in after Copacabana in Bolivia.
We rode on to Campong Cham which has what is likely the largest bamboo bridge in
Asia and spanned the Mekong River. Ridding across this bridge was an
interesting experience. The top layer of bamboo was crushed but still had
enough flex to slap down onto the next layer making a surprisingly loud
clacking sound and a wave like motion as we rode over it. Each year the
bridge is washed away by the flood and has to be rebuilt for the dry season.
On the second day of the tour which was New Year’s Eve we went off road.
Not far down the trail, one rider crashed in the sand and the bike landed on her
hip giving her a good bruise. It was hard for her to walk but she was
fine after a little rest, the bike however was not. It was no longer
possible to shift so I gave her my bike, I got the mechanics kick start bike,
and he got the broken one to ride stuck in second or third gear. When she
got on the bike, not 100 yards further on she started to crash again and pulled
the throttle open, shooting herself off the trail and luckily into tall grass
instead of the trees. It was all good fun but in the end we had to hire a boy
to ride her bike while she rode on the back of another guides bike so we
would make it to camp before dark.
When we made it to camp we settled in and drank a beer. We were camping at
the entrance of an amazing temple complex. It was Preah Khan, the second
largest Angkorian temple complex after Angkor Watt and there are no tourist
busses traveling on these jungle trails to get to it. We had the place to
ourselves besides a few curious locals. Our tents were set up on the
bridge over the moat which has many images of Garuda at the base. The
entrance to the complex is guarded by Naga and surrounded by a moat and
wall. The entrance way is intact as well as some of the structures inside
the complex and there are even some statues and apsara images which have so far
survived the looters. Apsaras were dancers, often sensual, which are
commonly displayed on Angkorian ruins, but many have had their faces cut off by
looters. Many of the kinds of things I saw in the museum are in this
temple and others I saw in remote places, but these are much more amazing than
any museum because it feels more real. To me, this temple is way better
than Angkor Watt, but others might not see it that way because it’s not on the
cover of their guide book.
To celebrate the New Year we had a good barbeque, beer, and fireworks. In
the morning, the ruins were perfectly framed in my tent window, and through the
door I could see the sun rise over the moat while exotic birds whooped and sung
in the trees. This is one of my favorite places in Cambodia, and its
location makes it even more special. We had to ride down narrow trails
and remote villages full of naked kids and people with no concept of large
amounts of money. We traveled with thousands of dollars in gear and
motorcycles, and for the price of my boots they could buy a house which is a
major step for them to get a wife. Everyone came out to wave as we rode
past, and when we stopped for a drink they gathered around to watch.
These interactions are always special, especially when the interest is mutual.
It’s important to not get too complacent while exploring ruins and ridding some of
the trails in Cambodia. Large areas have been carpeted with land mines by
the Khmer Rouge, especially temple complexes and other ruins. These were
the only really strong buildings in Cambodia so the KR used them for various
reasons including as ammo depots. Land mines were put all around the
temples to protect the supplies, and while most have been demined and are now
safe inside the complex and on trails, it might not be safe outside the complex
walls. In some areas there are signs warning of the nearby mine fields,
reminding us that Cambodia is one of the most heavily mined countries in the world.
After a good breakfast at camp we rode out. Many obstacles we encounter while riding
in Cambodia on dirt bikes and in body armor which would make many westerners
cringe, but were easily done by locals three up on a small bike carrying
chickens with minimal traction and suspension. The ride was good and
we stayed in a basic guesthouse near the only pyramid style ruins in Cambodia
called Koh Ker.
The locals near Koh Ker were hopeful that more tourists would come to visit when
the new road gets put in, but I am doubtful. Even with a better road it’s
too far off the usual tourist track without much around it. Tourists
coming to Cambodia will want to see Angkor Watt and there is so much to see
there that they will be “templed out” and won’t go to see the pyramid or other
ruins further away. Zeman said this is the second time they have tried to
improve the area in an attempt to bring in tourists. The first time, they
built the guest house we were in which also happened to be the only two story
building in the province.
We rode into Siem Reap which literally means “Keep out Siamese” where we stayed
for two days. On the day we arrived I went for a walk around town, but my
exploration was limited from fatigue and diarrhea. I saw enough to know
that it is a typical high volume tourist town where it is easy to find someone
who speaks English and the traditional market is converted to a clean souvenir
selling “traditional” market.
In the morning I decided to go with the clients for the day to see the sun rise
over Angkor Watt. There must have been a couple thousand other people
there with the same idea. It makes me wonder where all the money goes
since its $25 a ticket. The ticket is pretty nice I suppose and has the
ticket holder’s picture printed on it. After sun rise we only took 1.5
hours to explore the main complex. It deserves much more time but we only
had the day to see as much as we could. I will not write about Angkor
Watt or the surrounding ruins since there is much more complete and easily
accessible information, but I will say that anyone who goes to Cambodia and
does not see these ruins are selling themselves short. There is a lot to
see in the area which really deserves at least a few days, it is well
preserved, and even fighting the crowds it’s fun to explore.
For sunset we went to the floating village on the Tonle Sap Lake. We had
to hire a boat to get there, and it is another tourist place but still
maintains much of its village feel. To get there we had to hire a boat,
and on the way out a man in a motorboat pulled up right next to us so his
daughter could jump onto ours like a skilled pirate. She was selling some
drinks and I was so impressed I bought a Fanta. When she was done her dad
pulled up again and she jumped from our boat to his, without even
pausing. This all happened on quickly moving boats and over wakes from
other boats. It was fluid and practiced over their life time, it is
obvious watching the skill and dexterity of the people here, that they are born
and live on the water their entire lives. A bit further on we narrowly
missed colliding with another boat that was being driven by a boy who must have
been five. When they passed I saw a man working at the back of the boat,
they must have lost steering. They came even closer to hitting the boat
behind us before finally stopping.
As we entered the village, there were women inside cages made with nets and were
partially in the water. There were thousands of small fish jumping all
over the cage as the women swung tennis racket like tools, swatting the fish out
of the air. They just sat there fanning the racket back and forth,
smacking fish all over. I have never seen anything like this and it was
kind of funny to watch. As we approached the floating restaurant, some
locals approached us in boats holding snakes. One had a very small girl,
not more than 3 years old holding one of the biggest snakes I saw. They
hold snakes to get pictures taken and amuse tourists in the hopes they are given
a dollar. Among the snake handlers were two boys paddling around in what
look like large tin mixing bowls that required constant bailing. Since the
bowl was round, they had to develop a very good sculling technique with the
paddle that allowed them to zip around with amazing control. I can’t help
laughing while I watched these boys play around. Some of the other boats
are set up with mini hammocks for babies and the boats are often paddled from
the bow, pulling water under the boat.
When we got to the floating restaurant I saw a big opening in one section of the
floor with a rail around it. Inside were several very large crocodiles
with garbage all over their cage. I drank a coconut and ordered some fish
while we waited for the sunset. It was nice when the sun was dropping
below the horizon, but that’s when everyone started leaving. I recommended
to the group that we stay a bit longer because I suspected that the sky would
light up again when the sun got below the horizon at the right angle.
Everyone left except for us and I was right. The sun shined up to the
clouds on the horizon with a beautiful orange glow as the boys paddled their
bowls home, barely floating above the water line under the second round of the
sunset. In one day we had sunrise over Angkor Watt and sun set from a
floating village, not a bad day.
We left Siem Reap saving plenty to see for the next time. We had lunch in
Battambang at a place that took a very long time, which increased the amount of
time we had to spend riding in the dark down dusty dirt roads. I never
like to ride at night, especially in foreign countries. To make matters
worse I had a poor headlight, and as the medic I ride in the back which is the
dustiest place to be. I covered large sections without ever seeing the
ground while trying to stay close enough to the bike ahead of me to see their
taillight and follow it as closely as possible without hitting anything.
At one point it was possible for me to ride beside another bike and share
headlights but as I rode, a massive set of horns on a large grey head appeared
right in front of me. It was a water buffalo standing in the ditch that
looked over its shoulder to see us. I don’t know how I didn’t hit the
horns, I was headed right to them, but I missed. This is why I don’t like
to ride at night; it wasn’t skill that made me miss the buffalo, just luck.
As I travel around Cambodia I have had some interesting foods. Spiders are
better than they sound if you brave enough to take bites out of a big one, a
cricket/cockroach bug wasn’t as good, but the worst thing I had was a giant
green melon that grows to the size of two basketballs. It smells terrible
and can be eaten raw or cooked into cakes. Zeman likes it raw but thinks
the cake tastes like rotting fish, I on the other hand like the cakes but
couldn’t even swallow one bite of it fresh. I got past the smell but the
taste cannot be compared to anything I have ever had. It’s horrible but
with a slight sweetness and a texture that is soft with a skin that makes it
even more disgusting. I had to spit it out and try to control my gag
reflex. Another interesting food we had at the coast seemed to have
everything they could scoop up from the ocean made into a soup. It had
squid, scallops, fish, prawns, vegetables, other plants and more ingredients I
didn’t recognize. It was good, but I’m sure it’s fun for the locals to
watch us eat, because not everything Cambodians put in their soup is meant to be
eaten. Without the local knowledge there is no way to know what is what
until biting into a plant that can’t be chewed or has a flavor too strong to
eat. Most of us spit out something the locals wouldn’t have put in their
mouths. Lok Lak is a traditional Khmer dish with rice and a meat with a
strong lemon, salt, pepper, and other spices sauce on the side. Lok Lak is
very good and I ate a lot while in Cambodia. It can even be found English
style which comes with fries.
The day after I barely missed the buffalo we went to the small
village of Che Pat. There are no roads to this village so we took the
ferry which was two boats with a wood plank deck holding them
together. To board the ferry we had to ride down the riverbank and up a single
wood board. It took some time because only two or three bikes could go at a
time without sinking the ferry.
Once we were in the village, we got lunch and checked into one of the most basic
accommodations of the trip. There was no running water so to take a bath
everyone scoops water out of a big tub which is also used to pore water into the
squat toilet on the floor since there is no real flush. After we ate lunch
we rode up a trail with a man who told us about some clay pots and a burial
site. Zeman had never been there, and we were more than a little
intrigued. The ride out was one of the best of the tour on a trail that
had everything from sand, to bigger rocks, to water crossings, to smooth dirt,
fun corners and even a small wildfire burning along the trail for the return trip.
Once we got as far as we could ride we had to continue up the hill into the jungle
for about 20 minutes until arriving at two ladders which went up to some caves
in the cliff. At the top, careful to avoid the ants, there are some very
well preserved clay pots dating from the 15th-17th
century. A bit further on and there is a larger cave with vines hanging
over like a curtain, full of several small five cornered caskets carved from one
piece of wood with the lid sitting on top. Some of the lids collapsed in
or were moved slightly to reveal some of the bones inside. Some bones were
missing and some were broken including a skull. The coffins were too small
to fit anyone but very small children inside but they were adult bones, so I
wonder if the bones were broken to fit, and what happened with all the tissue
before it was put in the casket? Did the bodies decay before burial?
Cannibalism? I don’t know but an intact person will not fit.
Throughout the tour I saw many crashes causing lots of bruises, swelling, soreness,
and limps, but while they were beat up, they were okay. As the
medic it was my job to ride in the back of the pack with Kien the
mechanic. After a crash I would check rider, and Kien checked the
bike. Usually we just put them back on and continued the ride. I saw
some crashes that worried me though, like when I came around a corner and
everyone was stopped looking at a rider who was twisted up under his bike.
He wasn’t moving and I ran up, carefully lifted the bike off and he got
up. Somehow the bike landed on him pinning both his arms so he couldn’t
move. I thought his neck was broken or something but he was just relaxing
under the bike waiting for help. The worst crash was on the last day on a
dirt road. I expected a crash like this the whole tour because when there
was a hazard the riders would raise one hand to warn the others. The
problem with this is that it is very difficult to ride through a hazard with one
hand on the bars. One rider saw the person in front of her hit a huge pot
hole. She thought it was a big hazard so instead of just raising her hand
she held it up longer than usual and waved it. It looked like she was
signaling the rider behind her to pass, so he did and hit the pothole. He
made it but the signaling rider was waving her hand instead of avoiding the
obstacle so she hit the pot hole and crashed hard. The rider behind her
was preparing to pass and was right behind the crash. The second rider
then hit the pothole and the other downed bike making a loud crashing sound and
a big cloud of dust. The second one to crash said she narrowly missed the first
downed rider and had to crash into her bike to avoid hitting her. I
thought I would have two patients, but both were generally okay besides being
shaken, getting new bruises, and scratched and ripped ridding gear. The
knee pad and riding pants on one of the riders prevented what would have been a
serious injury. After a rest we made the ride to Sihonukville where Zeman
lives and was the end of the tour.
This was an incredibly good learning experience for me, and I learned a lot about
taking care of clients and ridding. Zeman is the real deal and I am glad
to have worked with him. Most people don’t understand things that I wish I
could explain to them about traveling, especially with the freedom of a
motorcycle. Zeman already knows. We explore for the sake of it, and sharing the
experience with clients is a great way to do what we love and make a living out of it.
Zeman started riding as a way to explore, it’s the perfect way to find temples in the jungle
and chase rumors of ruins. This is also how I started to ride in
Oregon. I used to look for mines and the remnants of cabins up in the
mountains. I dreamed of finding a lost mine with a fat vein of gold
waiting for me to scoop it out which would fund bigger and better things.
When I made it back to Phnom Pen I called Sanghai so we could get my paddle. We
went to the shop, a phone call was made and the Vietnamese man rode up on his
motorcycle, looking very proud of the paddle he carried over his shoulder.
He said it was harder than expected and took him four days to finish. It
was much beefier than I expected, but was fine after some more sanding on the
edges. It could use some more work to fine tune it, but it was okay and
did what I needed it to do. This paddle, which I called my battle axe,
drew small crowds if interested people who wanted to see and hold it. They
have never seen a paddle like this, and since I got it made to fit me, it was
very big for them.
I took a bus to Stung Treng where my boat was, which was supposed to take ten
hours but a flat tire delayed us further. We made it eventually and I
stayed at the same guest house as the last time I was here with Tia and T Jr.
who were very helpful. From here I got supplies and successfully completed
my expedition down the Mekong River.
My Mekong expedition ended in Kratie where I stayed a couple days. I stayed
in the same hotel I was in a month ago because it was the most convenient to get
to from the water. They even put me in the same room I had the last time
which was on the highest floor in the farthest corner. They probably liked
watching me carry all my gear up and get soaked with sweat.
In the afternoon I met a Spanish woman named Judith who was managing an NGO radio
station in Cambodia. She told me about the censorship in the country and
how the people out in the provinces (a general term used for everything outside
the cities, specifically Phnom Pen) are very limited in the information they can
get. Communication is obstructed to prevent the organization of groups who
would question the government. Right now, these people only know what the
government tells them through the one radio station besides the two hour segment
by the NGO.
The new radio station sponsored by the NGO has only just started and is heavily
regulated by the government. There is no complaining or questioning the
government allowed on air, property and land issues are forbidden, and what they
will broadcast is reviewed by a government representative before it airs.
Across Cambodia large tracts of land that have been settled by communities with
no land ownership for generations is being given away by the government, forcing
the locals to move, but to who is the land given and why? There are
several dams being built by the Chinese one of which recently broke killing
several Cambodians, the jungle is being cut at the third highest rate in the
world reducing its cover from 70% in 1970 to about 3% in 2007 (Wikipedia) with
nothing to show for it, there are casinos near the border owned by companies in
Laos where it is illegal to gamble but Cambodians are not allowed in. The
radio station is not allowed to talk about any of this because the government
knows that the public would be outraged about all the corruption and injustice,
and that with the organizing power of radio, there could be significant civil
unrest. The station is not even allowed to take callers on the air because
the government is afraid of what they will say. So for now the only things
the station airs are educational segments teaching some English, and other
community based announcements so the locals know a little about what is going on
in there province; at least what the government thinks is okay for them to
know. I actually heard the station in one of the few places I got
reception on the river, and instead of hearing local music or at least the Khmer
language, I got an English lesson. The NGO is always working with the
government to try to say more but if they push too hard it will be shut
down.
I am hopeful for the radio station and I hope it develops into something more. I
see it as a step in the right direction for a better Cambodia and towards free
speech. They are even going to give out solar radios so more people can
tune in. Judith is not as optimistic as I am, she doesn’t think it’s a big
deal, and that it probably won’t have much effect. The reason they are
there however is to have an effect; radio is a powerful tool to share ideas,
information, and uniting people in a way that was previously not possible in
these remote provinces, and I hope it lives up to its potential.
My last night in Kratie had one of the most amazing sunsets I have ever seen.
There are many incredible sunsets over the Mekong but this one was
different. It wasn’t the sky or horizon that was so amazing, but the
water. Before the sun reached the horizon line it reflected off the Mekong
making a glittering gold bridge which nearly spanned the entire river, and
wasn’t too bright to look at. I sat there and stared at it for its entire
duration, imagining myself walking across this glowing path. If I should
ever see the path to heaven, this is what I expect it to look like.
I took a mini bus from Kratie to Phnom Pen because it’s much faster than a bus,
but it is also more dangerous because of the reckless driving. One ticket
doesn’t get you one seat in Cambodia, a three person row will have four tickets
sold and I had to buy two tickets to have the front seat to myself.
On one of my last nights in Cambodia I was drinking a beer and reading “Candid” by
Voltaire at a bar in Phnom Pen with many prostitutes around. There are
many prostitutes in the city who are always looking to provide company to
tourists, and old white guys are a surprisingly major source of income. By
coincidence I read a section of the book about a girl that the main character,
Candid, had known years before but had now become a prostitute. Candid
believed the prostitute and the man she was with looked happy and therefore were
happy. Candid’s companion doubted their happiness and they decided to
speak to them and find out if they were happy or not. When they questioned
the girl, she explained why she does it, how she got there, and what her life is
like. As I read this there was a Frenchman and his
“girlfriend” playing pool. They seemed closer than most “couples” and they
were with another girl who was doing her job and kept trying to get my
attention. She was interrupting my reading, and wanted me to sit with her
but I kept declining and continued with my book when it struck me that that I
had the same opportunity as Candid did to learn something about their happiness.
I talked with the Frenchman who has been living in Myanmar as a bar tender but met
the girl in Cambodia. He has visited her a couple times, spent some time
with her son and bought him a bike, and now he is trying to get the paperwork
done so she can live with him. He seemed like a smart and nice guy, but
was a little different. I wondered what made them fall in love, for how
long, and about their past but decided not to ask because it might have seemed
rude. While we talked the girl who wanted me to sit with them got hungry,
left and came back a little later with a bag of bugs. I ate one but prefer spiders.
The Frenchman and his girlfriend eventually left and I was alone with the
girl. I had told her from the beginning that I would not go anywhere with
her but she must have not understood, thought I would change my mind, or didn’t
believe me. She occasionally said things like “make boom boom” and “eat
hotdog” as well as make some strange facial gestures that were probably meant to
be sexy but were quite the opposite. When she was convinced I wouldn’t do
anything with her and she received what was probably the tenth phone call that
she ignored we started talking a little more normally. She told me that a
Norwegan man had been calling her and harassing her. She had actually
moved to Norway with him for seven months and he made her get his name tattooed
on her back. She said he was “boxing” her, cheating on her, made her get a
new phone number and lose all her old contacts. She left him and came back
to Cambodia, but he has been calling her mom, saying “mean” things to her.
She said “mean” but I believe she meant that he was saying threatening
things. She told me he had been calling all night and everyday asking for
her back and when that failed he would say “mean” things. She said she
cries every night and was clearly worried about him, even as she spoke she tried
to hold back tears. She told me how she doesn’t want anything to do with
him but he was coming to Cambodia anyway to try to get her back.
I think Candid and I came to a similar conclusion about prostitutes and
happiness. When I met her she seemed to be happy and having a good time
but the smallest amount of investigation revealed may answers to questions I
hardly had to ask. I gave her some money for her time before leaving her
with enough of the night left to find another client if she needed to.
Prostitution is big business here and is one of the best paid jobs, so I won’t
judge her based on her profession, but it is a sad and dirty job.
After 37 days in Cambodia I called Sanghai to take me to the airport. Because of
a laundry mix up I had a bag of wet clothes I had to dry in the airport, but I
didn’t expect to leave Cambodia as smoothly as I entered anyway. After I
paid $30 for overstaying my visa for six days I flew out of this amazing country
with the full intent to return.
References
Choeung Ek Killing Fields Memorial. (December 2012). Choeung Ek, Cambodia.
The Killing Fields Museum. (2013). Retrieved from http://www.killingfieldsmuseum.com/s21-victims.html
Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum, S-21. (December 2012). Phnom Pen, Cambodia.
Wikipedia. (2013). Deforestation in Cambodia. Retrieved from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/DeforestationinCambodia