Killer Cars

Where we had last left off, I was in the middle of an amazing trip through rugged Ratanakiri and Kratie. A trip that will make a backpacker out of any of us. I was asked to stay and extra month in Cambodia and left you without an answer. Read what I chose to do and how I thought about the rest of the trip.

Highlights and Observations

No dolphins, but we still gots some suga

After failing in our attempts to get a good view of the Irawaddy dolphins, we made it back to the center of town to wait for my mother and my cousin’s wife and kids to arrive by taxi. Breezing through town on a motorcycle and just as school was getting out, I got to really appreciate Kratie as a nice residential town. Quiet, tropical, relatively clean and not too many tourists. Or maybe I just got that impression after one too many sugar cane drinks.

My mother came in just as the sun was setting. I wasn’t really trying to ignore her, but just could not get my eyes out of the sun from the elevated riverside bank of the Mekong river. It was better than seeing it rise, as somehow it was foggier to make it appear larger.

Looks like I made it home

The next day at the rapids, we hung out some more and I attempted to eat piles and piles of food. I believe I was handed the complimentary whole chicken and went to town. Apparently all the chicken and soy milk made head for an early 11 am nap. However waking up, the noontime shade was too cold so I had to warm myself up with another dip. Whole family included.

On our way home, my mother bought dried fish by the bagful and successfully took it home through customs. I cannot imagine what that fish will taste like after being up in the air in a Boeing 747 in all those cold altitudes.

It’s one thing to be stuck in Cambodia, it’s another to be stuck in New York

As much as I was looking forward to another month of hanging out in Southeast Asia and continue my travels onward to Vietnam, I needed proof to see if it was possible I could stay. Our neighbor who had joined us on our trip had parted with us since we arrived and while she did have business matters to attend to, she did mention that her husband would take me to Vietnam, when he arrived. As I was leaving in 2 days, he still never made it, and it was hard to take anybody’s word. If my mother were to go home without me, my new guides would now be my hosts, something my immediate family would find as rather awkward.

So after her getting lost in Phnom Penh to get to my cousin’s salon, it seemed like we all just gave her a reaming once she got in. At first it sounded like they were just being tough, but then I saw some proof that there was no feasible way I was staying another month in Cambodia. She had talked with Singapore Airlines in rescheduling her flights 2 weeks later, but I only noticed that she had reservations and not vouchers. Plus the future reservations only took us as far as New York, where our previous Delta flight would be dropped. If any of you know, hanging out in JFK is no fun.

I could have taken it a step further and talked to Singapore Airlines myself to confirm if rescheduling without penalty was an option, but I lost my motivation. It had more to do with, the fact that I didn’t believe her husband was coming ever, and that nobody would support me if I wanted to do the journey alone. I then thought about just lazing around for a month in Phnom Penh. The thought might just drive me crazy. I decided it was time to go home and close out a really good traveling experience on a high note.

Killing fields of Choeng Ek

2 last things needed to be done before I left the country. I needed souvenirs with my leftover money and I needed some redemption for my fallen Cambodian victims. A month ago I had started the trip visiting the Tuol Sleng museum in Phnom Penh where Khmer Rouge prisoners were tortured and interrogated. It would only be fitting that I would end my trip 10 km out of the city, where the aforementioned prisoners were sent to the Killing Fields to be exterminated and buried in mass graves. It turned out to be more depressing than anyone could ever write in a guidebook.

The 10 minute moto ride out of the city was symbolic itself. We were detaching ourselves from the peaceful capital of the country and heading to the outer limits. Riding through the ghettoes, breathing in all the dust, feeling the heat and feeling all the bumps in the road, I did not want to believe things can get ugly this immediate out of the city. But after all, we were heading to the ugliest Cambodia has to offer.

We weren’t asked for our tickets on our way through the fields. The security and administration is very low key and have been good at keeping beggars and kids at bay to keep this area as peaceful as possible. There is even no heckling in the gift shop. This created a serene and peaceful atmosphere out of respect for those that were lost. But, every time the wind blew it made the situation really spooky.

A Memorial Stupa was erected near the entrance gates with over 10 floors of victims skulls recovered from the killings. The size and image it creates leaves a lasting impression. Each skull appears to look at you from all 4 sides and each floor is labeled as a demographic (ie this floor houses all male skulls aged 24 – 35). I am fortunate they didn’t include children if they found any. Towards the bottom floors, victim’s clothes were recovered and left untouched. While the victim’s skulls have aged over the years, the clothes have remained untouched.

Please click this picture and use the ‘all sizes’ button to read the memorial. It goes into much more depth.

Behind the Stupa and the Memorial were the Killing fields themselves. Sectioned off and indicated with a marker how many and which bodies were laying underneath. Some fields held victims buried without their heads, some held victims buried without any clothes, some fields had as many as 450 (in total there are 86 mass graves with 8585 total victims).

Laid out in random locations around the fields stood piles of untouched bones of victims. A very disturbing sight, but I’m sure the administrators took good care in protecting them and making them be seen in their natural state.

Towards the middle of the fields holds the ‘Magic Tree’ a sign reads that this tree was magical because it hung a microphone that played a loud tone to avoid hearing a victim moan while he was being executed. Why they chose to call it a magic tree disgusts me.

A more fitting name was placed for the ‘Killing Tree’, which the executioners used to beat children. I’m not sure if they beat them near the tree or used the tree as a weapon. In fact I’d rather not know and rest easy knowing that the ‘Killing Tree’ and the ‘Magic Tree’ are neither homicidal or magical at all.

A visit to the Killing Fields of Choeng Ek is not for the easily squeamish as it doesn’t get any more up close than this. Not so squeamish for me, but the most life changing for me. I had come to this site to seek redemption for my fallen Cambodian natives. I was born years after this ordeal, yet this whole trip has made me remember that had the genocide not happened, I would not have been born, nor had my parents ever have met (they met each other in Thailand and has never been back to Cambodia together). After relocating to the United States later, I’ve come back to seek redemption for those who did not make it, to understand what my mother and father lived like and went through, and to damn near bless myself for having damn good luck through this ordeal.

Deep sorrows to those who fell to a country that betrayed them, and my prayers to those who died in vain. My strength lies in those who died standing for what they believe in. We must never forget what happened to Cambodia.

Shopping made for a Russian

The day could only get better after a visit to the killing fields. I had seen everything that Phnom Penh had offered except for tourist friendly Psar Tuol Tom Pong. It is more commonly referred to as the Russian Market as the Russians did lots of shopping there in the 80s. You can bargain hard here, as hundreds of tourists pass through here everyday, for pirated movies, computer software, local wood carvings, silvers and of course, clothing.

Here I picked up some drawings from Cambodian artists including one massive Angkor Wat wall painting gathered for only 12 dollars. I have still yet to mount it, but I enjoy the fact that I now have the huge piece of handmade Cambodian art. Another $15 was dropped on a dark wooden carving made to resemble the faces of the Bayon temple. The ones you can mount on a wall are the most common and I picked up the biggest one I think I could fit in my suitcase. I was also a big fan of $1 tourist t-shirts, which ironically are the most comfortable t-shirts I own.

13

Considering I don’t remember much of my last 2 days besides hanging out and shopping, I do remember spending a lot of the last 2 days playing cards with my cousin’s wife’s sisters. The game of choice was, 13.

I vaguely remember 13 as a child, but I was really introduced to it during my stint in the Peace Corps. I remember the 2 who knew it best were half Asian and it is a game that was carried on from Asia. Basically 4 players are given 13 cards (52 / 4) and in an orderly fashion play a game of high card except that the suits have rank, three consecutive pairs beats the highest, at least 3 card straights are playable and players can pass on cycles. Whoever rids their cards first becomes winner. 13 became a big part of Peace Corps life so far as to say we were playing for hours everyday until it got dark, there was at least two 13 games going on in our transport van, and the final week 13 tournament was a hair-pulling exciting 2 days. (note, some research shows that 13 is actually Tien Len, the national card game of Vietnam)

I placed pretty high in that tournament, however coming back home to Asia and playing 13 meant having my ass handed to me. I knew most of the rules except for 2 exceptions, but I was not playing as offensively as my counterparts. I lost virtually every game save for maybe 2 in a 2 day span. Losing consistently in a game I once owned, had left me very frustrated.

Since we weren’t drinking we needed something to motivate us to win. Our only motivation was that the loser in a round would have to drink at least 12 ounces of water. Since my family didn’t travel without a case of Evian water imported from France, that was our only choice. Sitting there in urban Phnom Penh, drinking $1.50 a bottle from the French Alps like it was a joke, I had never felt more French in my life.

Half a cow’s insides to prepare to sing the night away

One of the last nights I was there, we went out late for Karaoke. For dinner, I was taken to some hole in the wall that was serving lots of Khmer businessmen. The house specialty was nothing but chopped up and boiled cow insides. It is served with a very spicy dipping sauce which is more than half its flavor. Another specialty was the house whiskey which is strong but not potent enough if you want to hit by the bottle (which we both did). The spiciness and the non-tenderness of the flesh of cow insides was easily washed down with warm whiskey. Yes, I sat for the next 2 hours eating the stomach of a cow, and I drank half that bottle to myself. It was said that the place gets real crowded during the day hence the reason we were there at night, but I can imagine how gross a sight it can be to see tons of Cambodians drowning themselves in cow organs and unsanitary house whiskey in the bright sun.

After dispensing $40 American dollars from the ANZ Royal ATM (security guard included) we were off to a private Karaoke lounge at one of Cambodia’s finest clubs. I could tell it was so because every door had at least 2 holders and there was an elevator tenant just to go up one floor. We rented a private lounge complete with en suite bathroom, 10,000 song karaoke, leather couches and all the beer we could drink without lifting a finger. However, my insatiable appetite for 4 Tiger beers and mangoes pushed the room tab to be around $40. I covered the whole thing for everybody to thank them for their hospitality, and the opportunity for all of us to act like big pimps for one night.

Last goodbyes to Phnom Penh, a city I really fell for

In the past year, I had visited a number of cities traveling. Some not that good (Philadelphia, Boston, Praia), some needed work (Bangkok, Dakar) and finally some were just hidden gems (Lisbon, Phnom Penh). What visiting Bangkok told me, was more is not more and sometimes you don’t need to have everything to call yourself a world class city. Phnom Penh didn’t seem like much at first, but it quickly became more and more fun at every turn. I believe what makes a city great is appearing big without feeling cramped (Paris, New York, Montreal, whereas Tokyo, Bangkok and Hong Kong are cramped quarters). I knew it wasn’t long before Phnom Penh goes the way of towering skyscrapers and subway systems, and that was what was so special about it, I was witnessing a city in its infancy, still in its classic charm before thick pockets begin to turn it over.

Pretty soon, these European style homes will be overrun by modern apartment buildings, the river parks will be turned into a 2 lane biking path, and Charles de Gaulle Blvd will be packed full of 4 door sedans and not happy and friendly motorbikes. It may or may not happen in my time, at this rate it is hard to tell. But at least I know what it feels to ride on a motor bike around Phnom Penh on a clear day, wind in my hair, admiring the blue twilight of the Mekong River, smelling the fresh cut grass and the fruits of the nearby markets and saying that this is how it once was. And then I’ll stare at the Cambodian flag at the Independence monument and it will remind that this city really is a city of dreams. For this generation and beyond.

Heading home

The last 2 days ended up being a big blur of packing, buying more souvenirs, playing with the puppy, and trying to get out as much on the town as I can. I couldn’t do much on the morning of my flight and I just remember being anxious that I have to sit around like I’m awaiting my doom. As somehow planned, virtually everybody who came to meet me on my first day came back to see me on my way out (remember the trip back to the village takes about 7 hours). This tied up some last minute packing and the last meal together before we all dressed up to leave to the airport. We were given again, the pimp ride (Camry with LCD tv) to ride back to the Phnom Penh airport. When we were taking our last pictures, I was struck by how bright and hot the day was. So much more remarkably hot, I had trouble getting the perfect camera shots.

As some type of convenience or coincidence, the same airport security guard who rushed our visas, was back again. I knew he was some type of family, but nobody mentioned that he would be working again today. He couldn’t help us much when we were checking our bags, but he stuck around outside to make sure we could say bye to everybody and not miss our flight.

I remember being very disoriented when I first arrived in the country, but was well alert on my goodbyes to the family. Lots of bows and arm grasps to everybody. Some were in a good mood even as I was leaving, others were a little upset that things are going back to the way they were before I showed up. But nothing too sappy, more of a congratulations and thanks coming to think of us type of thing, you’re very brave and we appreciate what you taught us about you. I believe those who said bye to my mother said bye as if they were going to see her tomorrow. I believe that is common, as admitting you will or do miss someone is not common among Cambodians.

Towards the end I began to realize how little time I spent with the others and the obvious majority was spent with my cousin Bunthok. It somehow makes me want to go back to visit with my father and spend more one on one time, maybe start learning more paths of the Buddha. But after this trip, Bunthok did become my mentor, and he taught me more of my country than my parents ever had. It sure helped that he spoke a lot of English. But it was also because he believed in me as a person and understood my reasons for coming back here rather than ‘just to visit’. Personal reasons aside, I knew the next time I come to Cambodia, I immediately have a go-to man for all my needs. However, when it was time to say goodbye to him, I knew he helped me in my goals better than anyone else has. He had helped understand more about myself, a culture I chose to ignore for so long, and helped seek solace for a mess that I might not ever understand. It was never more clear why I went to Cambodia than that last moment as I was about to leave.

Airport guard nudged us. It is our last call. We’re walking away as we are still talking. I’m walking backwards the whole time, waving goodbye and trying to get everybody’s faces one last time. I do remember everyone smiling one last time as I disappear into the terminal gates.

Somehow, Phnom Penh airport is fairly high class considering the economy of the country, and I regret a little not walking by and admiring all the awesome first impressions that tourists get to see. However, I got the best last impression that any tourist or national could ever get. Skipping through the line and passing right through the lane reserved for diplomats and other royalty. It left a nice little touch to whatever to remind that whatever physical hardships Cambodia threw at me, it still treated me like a Prince.

Taps on the back from the airport guard, some goodbyes as if he was family and him shooing us off as if any tip we give him is worthless. Looking back at the line and walking up the ramp for the flight to take us to Singapore, I had just remembered the aiport guard had stamped my passport with a permanent stay visa 5 weeks earlier. As I embark on the steps I start to thinking.

I’m still thinking to this day.

Vive Le Cambodge! (because if I said it in Khmer you wouldn’t understand me)

THE END

Photo Links

• Kratie, Cambodia
• S-21 Prison and The Killing Fields of Choeung Ek
• Phnom Penh, Cambodia

Related Posts

• I’m Back!
• The good just reversed the bad
• 2006 Killer Cars year in review
• Girl gone wild in Cambodia

Share this post: