Impressions of Cambodia.
I left Sydney on the 11th April
2001 to fly to Bangkok, where I was to do some shopping before travelling to Cambodia. Unfortunately, it was the time of the Songram celebrations in Thailand, when water and flour seems to fly around indiscriminately into the face of foreigners and locals. Not surprisingly I decided to go to Cambodia a day earlier, than originally planned. The literary masterpiece that follows
will give details of my impressions of this unfortunate country and I hope that
it will awaken your interest in Cambodia and especially about the history and
heritage the temples of Angkor represent.
It is an error to think that the suffering of the Khmer people started and
ended with Pol Pot and the murderous regime he headed. A very brief and
probably not faultless history recitation might not be out of place. The Angkor
Empire of the 11th and 12th Century was possibly the largest in the
World and encompassed the whole of Indochina, Thailand and parts of China. The
township of Angkor, the capital of the Khmer empire had a million inhabitants
at the time when London was a village with just 30,000 people. None of this
city, having been built of timber is now to be seen, but the mostly Hindu
temples of the city built between the 5th
and the 12th century remained,
although they are mostly ruins now.. However, when Angkor was abandoned, due to
economic reasons connected with irrigation difficulties, the vegetation and the
forest took over and hid and also partly destroyed the temples. It was only in
1860 that a Frenchman re-discovered the lost city and attempted to raise
interest in restoring it. The restoration, mostly by Europeans is still going
on, although these days' American and Asian finances are also helping the work.
(I have seen archeologists and architects working on restorations from
countries as diverse as Finland, Hungary, Japan and Egypt, not to mention the USA and Israel.)
In more recent times Cambodia became a French colony, but previously it was
conquered by both Vietnam and Thailand. During the war it was occupied by Japan
and the population served as labourers to the occupiers. It gained independence
from the French after WWII and became embroiled in the Vietnam War, when
American bombers delivered more tonnage of explosives in a few months onto
Cambodia as Japan received during 5 years of war. While Cambodia was neutral,
the Viet Cong used to deliver supplies through Cambodia, hence the secret
bombing of Cambodia.by Nixon. Next it was a corrupt government of Lon Nol which
came into power in addition to the machinations of King Shihanouk, who was
sacked as king but who has changed his allegiance more often than others change
their shirts. Finally in 1975 the communists won their civil war against the
Cambodian regime and having entered the capital of Phnom Penh to the
enthusiastic inhabitants of the city, they immediately emptied that and other
towns and ordered the population to become laborers on the rice fields.
No news of the madmen of the communist regime was known in the West until some
years later. It than became known, that Brother No. One was a former teacher,
now known as Pol Pot, that all schools were closed down, that thousands of
people were killed for no reason whatsoever, that the use of money was
abolished and many tens of thousands of people died of starvation.
Child-soldiers were deciding who lives or dies, who marries whom and they
became the “doctors' prescribing the same ointments for any illness. At the
same time everything was done secretly and the rulers were afraid not only of
their underlings but also of their comrades. Thus some 20,000 communists and
their relations were taken to just the Interrogation Center in Phnom Penh, told
to confess and than taken to the killing fields were their sculls were smashed
with iron bars. Over all many more than a million people died though
executions, starvation and mistreatment of their ailments. The exact number is
not known and may even be as high as 2 millions or just less than about one
fifths of the population..
Quite a number of Khmer Rouge officers escaped to Vietnam and it was from there
that the present dictator (i.e. Prime Minister) returned to Cambodia after
1982, when the Vietnamese were winning a war commenced by the crazed rulers of
the Khmer Rouge. For the next 10 or so years large bands of Khmer Rouge ruled
parts of Cambodia, doing business (forests and gems) with the Thai and Burmese
regimes and generals and it is only recently that they became part of the
regular Cambodian army which upholds the rule of Hun Sen. (A photo of Hun Sen's
house shows a brand new splendid edifice with machine gun turrets and space for
his private army of bodyguards. The Berchtesgaden house built for Hitler is a
slum in comparison.) The politician son of the king won the so-called free
election, supervised by the UN, but he was accused of treason and had to flee
to save his life. His supporters were not that lucky. However for the sake of
appearances the Prince was forgiven and returned to Cambodia as joint Prime
Minister, needless to say in name only.
Since appointed by the French to be the king instead of his grandfather at age
17, the king has co-operated with everybody, with the colonial powers of
France, resigned several times and threatened to do so even more frequently. He
negotiated on behalf of the Khmer Rouge, in spite of some of his relations
being slaughtered by them, became allied to the Chinese and the Americans (not
at the same time) and while he is revered as the God-king, he is despised for
being a turn coat. His most famous political trick was to stand for election at
which his subjects had to vote Yes for him as the political leader or No
against him, requiring the No voters to destroy the Yes paper on which his
photograph appeared. To destroy his image would have been lese majeste, and not
surprisingly he won with a large majority. He is apparently a sick man (but who
knows?) and it is hard to guess who is going to succeed him.
I must emphasize that my observations above are not necessarily correct and
those who are interested in the history of the Khmer people should seek their
knowledge elsewhere. A good start would be David Chandler's “A History of
Cambodia”, ISBN 974-7100-65-7.
No description of Cambodian impressions should be without describing the
procedure employed to issue visas at the airports. I am quoting from an
Internet Forum on Cambodia:
“I have never been to any country where you had to fill in three (actually
four) forms with the same information and then find that one of the papers is
handed back to you by the only guy whom you can actually see standing, while
the others are sitting behind a desk with a high bench on which their braided
caps are kept to show their authority. Your photo is taken from you as is you
passport, your US $20 and some of the forms by the guy standing and eventually
you hear the rapid stamping of the documents and the passport as they are
handed from one guy to another, who sound as if discussing the latest sport
results amongst themselves and the sound of the stampings reminded me of some
films of war. You try to follow what is going on behind the braided caps in
front of you, but by now the passengers are bunched up and look rather forlorn. Click to see Visa issue organisation.
At this stage no-one knows what is going on but.... suddenly at the other end
of the desk someone stands up and holds a passport in his hand, at which point
all the people surge forward trying to see the photo in the passport. Since my
spectacles were fogged due to the high humidity it was some time before I
recognized my photo and having reached across the multitudes I was able to
snatch my passport from the hands of the officer, who gave it to me without
even glancing at me to see if indeed I am the rightful owner.
At this point one is hopeful that it is the end of the procedure, but now that
you have your visa you need to proceed towards the exit, where one is
confronted with another desk behind which another two uniformed people start
their rapid fire stamping of your passport and the piece of paper which is your
exit visa and which you better not loose. From here to the exit and the taxis
is but a short walk, during which you need to find your luggage and take it to
the customs officers (always in pairs), after which you are free to go and find
your taxi or the car picking you up from the hotel. And find you must, because
the drivers are not allowed near the exit, they are kept some distance away.”
But once you are away from the officials, you get a different perspective.
The first impression (after the heat and humidity) is the condition of the
roads. There are potholes galore and cars (of which there aren't many),
motorcycles and cycles are all trying to avoid them. Thus motorcycles wave
around to find a smooth passage and of course those using the road and coming
from any direction are requiring using the same area. That all this is
accomplished without any road-rage or accidents must be a triumph to the
Cambodian temperament. It took me days to work out how and why motorcycles can
pass your car from any side and any direction and I now greatly admire the
sensible way they drive, even if it looks as if they would all be mad.
For instance, imagine that the car proceeding on the right side of the wide
boulevard wants to turn left. In any country other than Cambodia, the car would
gravitate towards the center and wait for the traffic to be stopped by a red
light. In Phnom Penh there are very few traffic lights, instead they have
literally hundreds of thousands of low powered motos. Thus in Phnom Penh the
car will gravitate towards the center of the road and continue slowly across
the thousands of motorbikes, who will either pass in front of the car or behind
him. And now the car is across the road and is ready to move into the side
street, - not on the right hand side of that street, but on the left, facing
the hundreds of motorcycles. Being on the wrong side of the street and with
motorbikes coming against it on either side, because the car never stopped
moving, they move towards the left of the car allowing it to edge towards the
right side of the road. Finally the car is on the right hand, correct side.
Even when cars are on the correct side some motorbikes will come towards the
car and they will be on the wrong side is a situation which is quite frequent,
but the reasons for which I have not as yet worked out.
But the only use of the horn one can hear is that of a car or motorcycle
passing a moto or a bicycle, warning it: “I am going to pass you, stop waving
around in search of the smooth portion of the road” and lo and behold the
driver being passed will proceed in a straight line.
As regards crossing the wide roads or even the side streets, it is a
frightening experience for us molli-coddled with pedestrian crossings and
lights. My driver, who had to park across the road every second day, used to
just set out, going across the road without any hesitation. Click this for a non-peak hour view
Phnom Penh traffic is really frightening and another view of the traffic I held onto him
grimly, but then I learned that the hundreds of motorcycles will simply allow
you to cross, passing either safely in front or behind you and you are not
risking life and limb when relying on them to avoid you. Click to see a view from the car Most impressive.
What is not impressive is the state of the roads and even more so is the fact
that pavements (where there might be some) and roads are there to dispose of
any rubbish. There are metal drum receptacles, but whether they are full or
not, no one uses them. Thus pavements are to be negotiated with caution, but
not only because of the rubbish, but also because pavements are used to park
cars, motorbikes and cycles, they are used for stalls as extensions of the
shops and just simply for storage. Pipes are laid on top of the pavements and
to store building materials and used for all sorts of other purposes, excluding
the use for pedestrians. I used to walk to the Internet cafe every day and had
to negotiate a portion of the pavement where quantities of fish was placed in
the sun to be dried.Click here for pavement with drying fish
Yet in Phnom Penh at any rate there are some grand boulevards and interesting
buildings left over from French colonial times. They are lined with trees and
there are nature strips, which are tended with care. Some boulevards connect up
through roundabout with large statues or edifices, like the Independence
Monument in the middle. Click for Independence! In fact there is a slight chance of being reminded of
the Champs Elisee and the Arch de Triumph, but momentarily only. Wherever you
are in the city or outside of it there are a great many national flags to be
seen as well as framed pictures of the king and Queen on the porticos of
private houses and what we would call huts, not to mention restaurants,
offices, shops, etc. Not that I was in many shops, but since they are entirely
open, i.e. without a shop window and extend onto the pavement they are easily
seen.
My shopping expeditions were restricted to the markets, of which I visited the
Central, the Russian and the Orrussey markets. The Central market Central Market has not
changed much during the past 41 years, when I last visitd it and the center
portion, under its dome is taken up with jewellery stalls. They all light up
their glass displays as you approach the area and use hands and smiles to offer
their wares. She sold me two gold necklaces They will generally quote a figure in US Dollars and you are to
look astonished, at which their reaction will be to ask how much you are
prepared to pay. You offer them about a quarter, at which they take out a small
set of scales, weigh the gold article and it is they who show astonishment and
suggest a price which is about ˝ of their original price. If this is not
accepted, they will show you a different but similar item and indicate that
this can be yours at an even better price. My silver supplier And so eventually you either buy or
you don't, but even if you don't the friendship remains.
I could not distinguish a great deal of difference between the various markets,
but the locals certainly do. Thus some have a better selection of electrical
appliances, while leather goods are purchased elsewhere. Yet everything is
available at all of the markets, including food, in less than hygienic
displays. All of them have a great conglomeration of stall holders and it is
interesting how they co-operate with each other, - if one hasn't got what is
needed, she will rush over to her competitor and get it. They sold me a large number of scarfs The Central market seems to have a larger selection of gold jewellery, whereas in front to the
Orussey market there are dozens of trucks waiting to be hired. Click for Orussey Market Not that they
would be needed for anything but the heaviest haulage jobs, such things as big
boxes are carried on motos with the passenger sitting on top of the luggage.
Many are the slaughtered pigs I saw being carried on motos and passengers were
seen by me carrying a bicycle between the passenger and the driver. The
transport of a driver and 4 passengers Just 4 on this moto! is quite standard and in the morning and
evenings motorcycles are seen towing a two wheeled trailer on which 20 or more
people sit with their legs hanging from the trailer, the local version of a
private enterprise bus. This is a schoolbus!
Entering any of the markets is equivalent to running the gauntlet of the
limbless and the children, not to mention some nursing mothers. I found it
necessary to change some US dollars into the local Riels every day and had a
large supply of 200 Riels notes (about $A0.11) for them, which I dished out at
the sight of these people. Few were the days in Cambodia when I did not give
away something to 50 or more people and children. Two out of many. I was never harassed and I
gave gladly as I felt that the very little money would be going for food for
themselves or their families. On the rare occasions that I ran out of small
change and could not give, I was allowed to proceed, but if I gave just one
child or person, within seconds there were dozens of little hands stretched out
towards me. Where they came from I do not know, but they seemed to materialize
out of nowhere.
My impression of Cambodians was that they were all going somewhere with a
purpose. They were always doing something and not just idly sitting around. Few
were the houses or huts in front of which there was not something they were
selling. It might have been just a few bottles of water or in many cases Coca
Cola bottles of petrol, or packets of chewing gum or lotus fruit, wood for a
fire or old bricks, - they were all trying to make a living. When later in my
trip I was visiting the temples in Angkor there were dozens of young people
selling scarves, bags, water, soft drinks, books, postcards, films, - you name
it, they were trying to make a sale and smiling at you whether you bought from
them or not.
Another impression is that they are friendly and it is only their not being
able to communicate with us that they are not more outgoing. You cannot pass a
kid without being greeted by a hello and a smile and the same applies to the
grown ups as well. Those educated before 1975 have a smattering of French, but
it was not until very much later that schools re-opened after the defeat of the
Khmer Rouge and when the Vietnamese withdrew, but language teaching is still in
its infancy. For that reason you can see lots of signs advertising language
schools and expatriates from English speaking countries are almost all either
employed by the United Nation agencies or are teaching English.
I have already commented on the roads in Phnom Penh, but one needs to go out of
the capital to experience roads untouched by any road building appliance for
many a decade. My taxi driver Mr. Sophann took me into the country to see the
New Pagoda and on the way I could see that real countryside. Click to see an oxcart There were farms
with rice fields, sections of land where lotus bloomed, fishponds and places
where ducks were bred in marshes. The roadside was taken up with small one room
houses (if you can call them such) made out of a few pieces of tree branches,
walls of cement and rice bags and roofs made out of some vegetation. In front
of the room there was always a platform and the whole structure was on stilts
of tree trunks. I did not wish to embarrass my driver by photographing these;
instead I photographed happily bathing kids in ponds Kids in lake. and the roadside sellers
of lotus fruit. Roadside lotusfruit
When planning my trip to Cambodia, I was aware of the primitive conditions and
thus took soap and even toilet paper along. It turned out that my middle class
hotel was not only spotless, but also equipped with everything one might need
in a bathroom, from toothbrushes to shampoo and including toilet paper. The
fact that the paper holder was at one end of the bathroom while the toilet was
at the other end was puzzling, but overcome on a temporary basis, since as soon
as the room was serviced the roll was once again found its way to the other end
of the bathroom. One interesting aspect of living in hotels in Cambodia is that
there is a basket in the room marked “Laundri” and you just throw yours in
there, including the two or three changes of shirts daily. By evening it is
back washed and ironed, - free of charge, but of course you tip the maid about
a dollar every day and by Jove, her happiness is almost embarrassing.
On the first day I was in Cambodia I was to meet an Internet friend, who left a
message at the hotel that I should take a moto to a certain nighclub and so
with a Dutch fellow traveller we set out around 8:30 on what proved to be a
trip I will not easily forget. I cannot complain about my driver being too fast
or taking chances, but I was somewhat petrified of the hundreds of motorbikes
buzzing around us and my poor moto driver must have had a bruised shoulder by
the time we got there. It was here that I my friend declared that he is gay and
so the girls gave us up and we could peacefully sit and watch the movie, which was
projected onto the screen of this open-air drinking bar.
Going back to the hotel I wanted to take a taxi, but there was no such think
available and my moto driver was in any case waiting to take me back for
another one dollar. Next morning bright and early I arranged for the taxi
driver I heard so much about to call for me and my Dutch friend joined me for
our sight seeing tour. I must say that Mr. Sophann was a most valuable
investment. A former math teacher, father of 5 and with a very sick wife, he was
honest, reliable, and informative and his only aim in life seemed to be to look
after me. He took us first to see S21, the Khmer Rouge interrogation center,
where some 20,000 people were taken and only 7 survived. After arrest, these
people were kept shackled by their legs in heavy irons and invited to confess
crimes, which they had to invent to save themselves further torture. Once they
were arrested they knew that they will not survive and so they confessed to
everything they thought the powers wanted to hear, after which they were
transported some 15 kms out of town, made to kneel beside an open grave and had
their sculls smashed by heavy iron bars, wielded by young soldiers of 15 – 18
years.
Every person in the former school building was photographed, all with their
hands tied behind their back except some who were handcuffed to another
prisoner or two. Click here to see the chair used to photograph people. Note ridge on chair! The photographs showed many women with their babies and some
of those photos show 6 to 10 year old “political enemies” to the
“Organization”. What was the guilt of this girl? The groups of buildings and the exhibition of shackles, the
remnants of the tiny cells not to mention the photographs of thousand of
murdered people and the map of Cambodia built from sculls of the murdered makes
this a depressing place, but the children playing on the grounds seemed well
adjusted and happy. The contrast is dramatic. A "map" of Cambodia
Our next stop was at the Killing Fields, where we saw the “stupa”, The stupa at the Killing Fields. a tower
within which some thousands of sculls were kept behind glass Just some of the thousands of sculls. and we saw the big
mass graves which were now gaping holes in the ground, still containing bits of
bones and clothing. Click to see some bones in the grass (I must confess to bringing back a small portion of gray
cloth, the remnant of some murdered person's clothing as a memento of this
distressing place.
Our next stop was the National Museum, where I was able to see the first
samples of ancient Khmer art and also some stone carvings brought to Phnom Penh
from Angkor. As I saw later, this was just a small portion of the carvings
which were removed from the temples of Angkor, most vanished into Thailand and
hence into the hands of Western collectors and museums.
Our lunch was taken at the Garden Inn, an open sided restaurant quite near to
the river and serving quite presentable Western and Khmer food under fans of
the open premises. With the over 100 degrees heat, the fans just churned up the
hot air, but were nevertheless most welcome. The waitresses at this restaurant
were all high school graduates, speaking passable English, which they were
wishing to practice with us. And so these girls were learning their English
from this former Hungarian and the Dutchman. May their accent be a combination
of neither.
Our next stop was the nearby Royal Palace, Click to see Palace Gate where we could visit everywhere
except the Royal Palace, which was kept closed for some happening. It was later
when we were driving away that we saw a wedge of motorcycles surrounding a big
Mercedes in which King Shihanouk was driving towards the palace. It was then
that I realised that the side of the road where the king was to drive on was
closed to traffic for at least an hour before he was coming. Thus at least 5000
people were unable to drive along that route.
We were dog-tired when we arrived back to the hotel and we had dinner in the
hotel's Chinese restaurant. Since we ordered European (?) food it was less than
enjoyable and while my friend was leaving for Angkor next day I was determined
not to eat at the hotel restaurant again. Indeed I discovered a Burger bar not
very far from the hotel, the major drawback of which was that it was on the
opposite side and I was frightened to cross the road without Mr. Sophann boldly
stepping out and my holding onto him for dear life as the motos zoomed around.
However I found not all that far from the hotel a traffic light and crossed
there in relative safety, although the motorcycles were not stopping just
because the light was against them. However I must say that they slowed down as
they drove through the lights.
My driver, who by now was my friend and mentor, picked me up the next two days
and took me along to show me various sites in and out of Phnom Penh. One of the
sites was a Buddhist temple on a hill, which I visited and found a friendly
young monk who spoke very good English and we had a long discussion on his wishing
to be a monk for life and also discussed the tragedy of Cambodia. He was most
intelligent and I appreciated his explanations. I am afraid; I broke down once
again when he tried to explain how the population was treated during the terror
of the DK (Democratic Kampuchea). A friendly group of monks.
I decided not to use Mr. Sophann for the next two days and spent next day in
the company of a Sydney lawyer, with whom I went shopping and pub crawling.
Next day in the hotel lobby I met an American who asked me if I know of a
reliable driver. Within half an hour my Mr. Sophann appeared and my new friend
suggested that I come along for company. As I had nothing better to do, - I
tried but only got a booking to fly to Siem Reap, the day after, we had a
pleasant day, but I had to endure again the horrors of the genocide Museum and
the Killing Fields. I must say that they were just as horrific the second time
around. At the Museum we joined some people from England who had a guide and we
seemed to become part of their group. When giving some money to the lady I
asked her about her parents and she said that they were taken to the building
where we were and never returned. But other than that we enjoyed our day out.
Next day Mr. Sophann and my American friend took me to the Airport. I flew to Siem
Reap and there I had a nasty experience with a hotel, which was booked for me
and which was less than satisfactory. Without wishing to tell the whole story,
I booked in, left to meet the driver I arranged from Phnom Penh to drive for
me, was shouted at by the driver of the car which brought me from the airport
and my driver, Mr. Sen and I went off to Angkor just after 4 pm. to see at
least one temple and to buy my ticket for the next days. (One day ticket US
$20, two or three day tickets US $40).
The first sight of Angkor Wat was unforgettable. With the towers being
reflected in the water of the moat the scale of the largest of temples was
immense. Looked from an angle it was becoming obvious that not all the temple
towers belonged to the same building. Indeed one building hides the one behind
it. An unforgettable sight. But I was not to go that late afternoon to Angkor Wat, it was another
temple on a hill, which I was going to visit. The mountainside I had to climb
seemed steep, but I saw no difficulties. A young boy attached himself to me and
suggested which stone I was to step on which side of the path. Click to see where I climbed. Soon he was
leading me by the hand and while I felt a bit of a fool, I was welcoming his
help. Another boy joined less than half way up and the two of them not only led
me up by pulled me along. I realized that these boys were a godsend and we
eventually reached the temple, the viewing of which required even more climbing
and assistance. My two mates. Going down the hill the two boys were worth their weight in
gold and in my ignorance I hugely overpaid them.
When I returned later that night I found that the hotel was just too grubby and
so I booked out paying for both my room and the cost of the “free” airport
pickup. After putting my luggage in the car, my young driver was confronted by
a hysterical driver of the other car who appeared on a motorbike after he was
called onto the scene, I was screamed at, my driver was pinned against the car,
I was shouting and it took some time before we were to get away. My driver told
me that he was threatened by going to be smashed (beaten to death in Khmer
Rouge parlance) and thus we went off to search for a hotel.
We did find a very acceptable hotel, Prum Bayon Hotel albeit expensive at
US$35, Hotel receptionist, Miss Charya after looking at two others, and then it was necessary to find somewhere to eat. This was not easy but finally we found the Red Piano, where a good meal
was had for the two of us for the grand sum of 8 US Dollars. Generally speaking
food in Cambodia is not exactly cordon blue and one has to be careful not to
eat anything which need to be washed, such as salads or fruits, nor did I eat
any meat products, only fish while in Cambodia. In fact one day I was taken by
my driver to a restaurant where I was the only guest in the open sided, but
quite luxurious place. He eat outside, where he was to receive a free meal for
having taken me to this restaurant. I ordered fish and without any doubt the
ugliest looking fish was served. It fell apart at the touch of my spoon and I
could not find any bones except the vertebrae of the fish. It was absolutely
delicious and it was a surprise to both driver and the waiters, when I returned
next day for the same fishmeal.
An interesting side issue as regards waiters in Cambodia is that they take
their position directly behind you. This must be a mannerism of polite
behavior, like handing or taking things from you using both hands, but it was
not acceptable for me to take a 180 degree turn to place my order. So I usually
asked the waiter to face me. This they all did and from then on I never eat any
meal on my own, - the waiter was always in front of me watching my every move,
filling up my glass after every sip of my soft drink and watching this barang
with his strange habits.
You may ask how I got on without speaking Khmer and they not speaking English
or French. First of all my three drivers all spoke passable English. Waiters
and those selling goods at the markets spoke very few words, mostly they could
understand numbers, like: “I'll have No. Three” pointing to the fish dish or
saying the amount I was prepared to pay for something. The best English
speakers were the kids, who were selling scarves, books, etc. or explaining
(probably wrongly) the history of the temple ruins. They picked it up from the
foreign visitors; I cannot imagine that these kids would be going to the many
private language schools where English is taught to the elite few. Mind you,
one of the cheeky one, when asked about his language capability told me that he
goes to private school, which costs US $30 per month. “ Could you please pay it
for me?” he asked with a smile, which suggested to me that he knew the answer
before he asked the question. 3 of these kids.
Next day Mr. Sen picked me up nice and early, so as to avoid the worst of the
heat. Indeed it was almost bearable for about an hour, during which I trundled
my way through Angkor Thom, Bayon and drunk a lot of water, which became so hot
as to double as my cup of tea, without the ingredient. Pardon me becoming
indelicate, but during the days of my visiting the temples, not once, (I repeat
not once) did I have to visit any toilets during the day, in spite of my
drinking two bottles of water. Just as well, because Cambodia is famed for the
standard of its conveniences, if any.
Most of the temples were to be approached through long causeways. Click here Usually there
is a gate and outside of this is a guard, who will ask for your ticket with a
photo of yourself. Cambodian visitors do not require this ticket which allowed
me to make fun by saying that I am Cambodian which made every one of these people
politely explode with mirth. One suggested that we should start talking in
Khmer, while the other advised me to get into the sun to acquire a similar skin
colour to his. These people, male or female had a rotten job standing in the
heat and approaching people to produce their tickets, yet they were of good
humour, polite and loving to have a chat even if it meant using your hands and
feet and miming the message.
It was a sad sight to note the many carvings and parts of even statues which
were missing. These were not vandalized, but stolen and it was an immense
business, akin to the smuggling of drugs across borders. Some statues had their
faces, others the heads removed. Bas-reliefs were chiseled away from the walls
and in one case documented; the people moved in heavy machinery to dismantle
part of the temple and removed them to Thailand on lorries in guarded convoys.
My driver, using a dictionary said to me: “The destroyers are the achievement
of the new generation.” Never a truer word.
While photographing the Temple of Bayon I suddenly ran out of power in one of
my cameras. No problem, I thought, I have brought along some batteries,
unfortunately they were the wrong size. Eventually I walked back to the parking
area where I was approached by the usual army of kids wanting to sell me water
and everything else. As an excuse I mentioned that all I want is a battery and
showed the special battery I just extracted from my camera. One of the little
girls held my hand to ensure that I will come to her mum in a nearby stall, who
started to fossik amongst her things and produced a battery, which is still
working in my camera and for which, - without even haggling, she charged me
less than ˝ of what it costs in Sydney.
That afternoon another driver arrived in the same car, saying that his
“brother” (meaning friend) had to go to a wedding and he will drive from now
on. It occurred to me later, that he was making himself scarce in view of the
threats he received from my erstwhile hotel driver. I was never to find out
because from then on Mr. Han was my driver. He took me out to the Angkor area
and I visited several temples, Preak Khan, Neak Pean, etc. At one of them a
policeman made himself my guide and expected and accepted a tip while at
another the man checking my ticket and two other security people became my
friends.
The driver suggested that I might wish to see traditional Khmer dancing that
evening and have dinner at the same restaurant, where he will receive free
dinner for driving me there. It was a good idea, because the dancing was very
interesting and of very high standard, with the dancers wearing superbly
crafted costumes, and the buffet dinner was also quite acceptable. The bill
came to US$ 12.50 and I enjoyed my evening especially being amused at all the
dancers lining up after the performance on the stage and just standing there
for a while, when the Japanese guests started to queue to mount the stage and
stand amongst the dancers, while they were being photographed. Not having
anyone to snap me I went to the car park where Mr. Han was ready to drive me.
He suggested that I want to go to a nightclub and took me along. I went inside
and about a meter from the entrance turned round and left. The sound of the
music was painful, the air full of smoke and any attempt to find a table to sit
at would have been dangerous, as the only lights that could be seen were the
torches of the waiters or maybe they were waitresses. I will need to go back to
Siem Reap to ascertain the answer.
Next day I suggested visiting the temple at Preah Ko, which I heard is being
restored by a team from a Hungarian University. Preah Ko and some restaorateurs It was way out in the country
in a different direction from Angkor and I am glad we went there. It was a very
nice area and the temple was in the middle of a Buddhist school and I found the
sweetest of children trying to sell me their goodies. In actual fact I
succumbed and bought a scarf from one of the kids, to the momentary
disappointment of the other children. One of the many kids There was one European person to be seen
talking to local workmen and I asked him if he is from Hungary. He answered in
the negative and told me that he worked with them but they went home because
their money, which came from German sources, ran out. He himself was from
Oxford and spent the last few years working on the temples.
The next temple, Bakong was one of nicest one I visited. After a long walk
towards the temple I encountered a little girl, who came up to me and gave me a
flower. Bakong with monastery on right. I continued on my way and heard the chanting of Buddhist monks emanating
from the nearby monastery. I could see the young monks sitting on the floor of
a semi-open air classroom. Like naughty children they were looking at me and
smiling at me. After having a look at the temple, which was exquisite in spite
of being older than the usual run of temples in Angkor, I started on my way
back when the same little girl came towards me again and this time fashioned a
ring on my finger from dried grass. Yes, I guess she expected some money, but
had I just thanked her, I think I would have been given the same gorgeous
smile. I must say that it was very hard not to stroke their heads (a Buddhist
no-no) or give them a cuddle.
I left Angkor Wat for last and probably just as well, because it was a very
strenuous afternoon. First of all the causeway, 250 meters long, had to be
transversed. The causeway to Angkor Wat Made of large stones, it took quite some time before arriving to
the other side of the moat. Walking through that outer area one could finally
see the main building, the sight of which I can only compare to seeing Uluru
for the first time. It is not just an enormous building but quite delicate and
has first class proportions. Angkor Wat, superb! The second causeway is 350 meters long and only
after it do you reach the main building. The outer galleries have carved
columns, Outside the Galleries but the inner walls are just one uninterrupted bas-relief on every
side of the building, One of the galleries a total of 8 galleries each of which I estimate about 200
meters long, where the carved bas-reliefs are about 2 meters high. Sample of bas-relief and Close up of hand carved bas-relief
It is impossible for me to describe the superb art on display. It is quite
staggering and I am neither an art critic nor a writer. Suffice to say that as
you walk along the galleries and the various other areas and you meet others
visitors, you stop and speak to every one of them and discuss your amazement in
superlatives. In this way I met and spoke to a New Zealand former Army officer,
an American young man, who just sat down on a stone and started to read all
about what was in front and behind him, a young Aussie couple from Newtown, who
were almost overcome and quite a few others. A Viennese man could find nothing
in Europe to compare with this and a lady from Birmingham, who seemed upset
that she had to return to Singapore next day without having seen everything.
After Angkor Wat there was nothing much to see, it would all have been an anti
climax. The monkeys on the way back to Siem Reap were interesting Monkeys on road and having
called on the local Killing Field memorial was sad. The children, who had a
race around the stupa, where the bones and sculls of the victims were kept, did
not make the sight any less upsetting.
I asked my driver if he knows any Khmer Rouge men, who live amongst them and if
they are in any way ostracized and was told that they are not, since (a) they
were forced to be murderers and (b) they are now in the army and as such they
are still very powerful.
On my way back to the hotel we called on a private exhibition by a former Khmer
Rouge soldier, who became a soldier in the Vietnamese forces, was taught
landmine recovery by UN personnel and set up a Landmine Museum, where he was
relying on donations. Landmines Galore Only the week before police arrived at his home and
removed the Museum's signs on the road and told him that he must not show the
landmines to people, as they will be frightened to come to the Angkor area. At
the same time they also told him that the Governor of the province is planning
to open a landmine museum himself and he does not want any competition. An
interesting sideline to illustrate corruption. Nothing illustrates corruption
more than the fact that the generals are receiving just a pitiful monthly
salary of some US $67 (or so I was told) and yet they can afford servants,
Mercedes cars and the best houses in the best streets.
If the reader now asks if it was worth my while to visit Cambodia, my answer
would be very much in the positive, but it might not be everyone's cup of tea
or even coffee. By writing this description of my trip and my impressions
gained, you will be able to judge if you want to see a country where people
have nothing and are smiling, where the food is not the best and probably not
very clean, where you must brush your teeth in water from the fridge and where
walking on the pavement (if there is one) needs concentration in case you step
onto the fish being dried in the sun. But as far as I am concerned, I am glad
to have been.
