Our 5-6 hour bus ride from Sihanoukville to Phnom Penh was less than tolerable. It was crowded, stuffy, dirty and our seats were in front of a mean, middle-aged woman, who wouldn't let us recline our seats. Both Rachel and I tried to recline our seats, even just a little bit so as not to be sitting straight-up like a wooden board, but she definitively put her foot down and would start yelling at us in Cambodian. Everyone else had their seats reclined! After rest breaks, we reclined just a bit, so that it wasn't even noticeable, but would make all the difference in the world in regards to our comfort level, yet, she would come stomping on the bus, and adjust the seats for us. She sat behind us and muttered what I can only imagine to be mean, horrible things to us, or about us. After multiple, reciprocated death stares, and many failed attempts by us to recline just the slightest, she finally put an abrupt end to it all. She smacked me on the shoulder. Seriously. This wasn't a scolding tap or an annoyed knudge; it was a full-on smack. That put an end to our attempts, and Rachel and I just sat there miserably uncomfortable for the rest of the trip.
We arrived in Phnom Penh tired and slightly annoyed, got into a tuk-tuk (below), and headed to who knows where.
Although you drive on the right side in Cambodia, it's really more of a free-for-all. Example below:
I know it's blurry, but yes - those are oncoming motorbikes on the right side of the road!
Actually, we did know somewhat of where we were headed: Boeng Kak Area, a rickety neighborhood overtaken by the slums of tourism at its height. It consists of narrowly twisted streets that are jam-packed full of guesthouse after guesthouse after bar after booking agency after guesthouse. What is the appeal? It's on the Boeng Kak Lake. Many of the guesthouses, including ours - Number 9 Guesthouse (that is, after a couple first few horrified glances at other places) - have "wooden chill-out areas stretching over the water." (Lonely Planet).
We spent two nights, one day in Phnom Penh. To be quite honest, we weren't fans... but maybe we just stayed in the wrong area, or were too tired from our nights out in Sihanoukville to put up with the crowds. Anyway, we came here to see the Choeung Ek Genocidal Center - "The Killing Fields" and the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum, a former high school that was transformed into the notorious Security Prison 21 (S-21) under Pol Pot's reign of terror (1975-1979). S-21's notoriety comes from the fact that an estimated 17,000 people were imprisoned and repeatedly tortured here. Not much needs to be said. They are definitely important sites to see, and equally depressing. Rachel was a great travel partner... we were able to get through the day saying just the right amount to each other and yet not saying too much. I feel this is important when seeing such sites while traveling - it very much matters who you're with!
Detail worth sharing: Directly behind a fence at the Killing Fields is an elementary school. Imagine this. You're walking around excavated mass graves, observing skulls and victims' clothes, and then in the background, you hear the joyous, innocent laughter of children in a school yard. Ironic.
I did take photos of these two sites, many of which I regret. In fact, I don't think that I need any of the photos. They're not pictures to show off or post - it just doesn't feel appropriate. However, if you are curious, I posted a few on my Picasa site. I've deleted a lot. I couldn't even bare to look at the photos for a second time around without feeling queasy.
I have talked to a few people who really enjoyed Phnom Penh. Traveling is subjective. Given we stayed in another place, or perhaps had not just come from Sihanoukville, I might have had better things to say about PP. Perhaps, and probably so, we just didn't give it enough time.
While at Tuol Sleng Prison, I came across this moving poem by Sarith Pou, titled "The New Regime":
No religious rituals.
No religious symbols.
No religious symbols.
No fortune tellers.
No traditional healers.
No paying respect to elders.
No social status. No titles.
No education. No training.
No school. No learning.
No books. No library.
No science. No technology.
No pens. No paper.
No currency. No bartering.
No buying. No selling.
No begging. No giving.
No purses. No wallets.
No human rights. No liberty.
No courts. No judges.
No laws. No attorneys.
No communication.
No public transportation.
No private transportation.
No travelling. No mailing.
No inviting. No visiting.
No faxes. No telephones.
No social gatherings.
No chitchatting.
No jokes. No laughter.
No music. No dancing.
No romance. No flirting.
No fornication. No dating.
No wet dreaming.
No masturbating.
No naked sleepers.
No bathers.
No nakendness in showers.
No love songs. No love letters.
No affection.No marrying. No divorcing.
No martial conflicts. No fighting.
No profanity. No cursing.
No shoes. No sandals.
No toothbrushes. No razors.
No combs. No mirrors.
No lotion. No make up.
No long hair. No braids.
No jewelery.
No soap. No detergent. No shampoo.
No knitting. No embroidering.
No colored clothes, except black.
No styles, except pyjamas.
No wine. No palm sap hooch.
No lighters. No cigarettes.
No morning coffee. No afternoon tea.
No snacks. No desserts.
No breakfast (sometimes no dinner).
No mercy. No forgiveness.
No regret. No remorse.
No second chances. No excuses.
No complaints. No grievances.
No help. No favors.
No eyeglasses. No doctors.
No disabilities. No social diseases.
No tuberculosis. No leprosy.
No kites. No marbles. No rubber bands.
No cookies. No popsicle. No candy.
No playing. No toys.
No lullabies.
No rest. No vacations.
No holidays. No weekends.
No games. No sports.
No staying up late.
No newspapers.
No radio. No TV.
No drawing. No painting.
No pets. No pictures.
No electricity. No lamp oil.
No clocks. No watches.
No hope. No life.
A third of the people didn't survive.
The regime died.
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