Chapter 18 - A Shock to the System

I wasn’t prepared for Cambodia. I didn’t know that one man with his insane Maoist ideals had succeeded in murdering close to two million people in just four years. I was never taught about it at school. Never once had it come up in conversation over the pub table. I don’t ever remember seeing anything about it on the History Channel. And it definitely wasn’t a “did you know?” on the back of any Chappie’s paper.

How could this possibly have happened? How could I have lived my entire life unaware of the torturous cruelty inflicted on so many innocent people mere years before I was born?

I just wasn’t prepared for Cambodia.

I’m sure many of you reading this are probably shocked by my ignorance and clearly not in need of a history lesson from an intellectual dwarf like me. If that is the case I won’t be at all offended if you wish to skip the next few paragraphs. But if you too have been kept in the dark about Pol Pot, the Khmer Rouge and one of the bloodiest revolutions the world has ever seen, please read on.

In short.

After a fair bout of civil unrest Cambodia fell into the grubby hands of Pol Pot’s Khmer Rouge in 1975. Literally days later money was abolished and cities abandoned as hundreds of thousands of Cambodians were relocated to the countryside and put to work on farms. The idea was to transform Cambodia into a peasant-dominated, agrarian cooperative.

During the next four years anyone with any form of education, anyone who could speak a foreign language, in fact anyone who wore glasses and looked just a little intellectual was tortured to death or systematically executed. Their children were brutally flung against trees, splattering their brains, in order to prevent future “revenge attacks”. And hundreds of thousands more people died of mistreatment, malnutrition and disease on the farms they were forced to work so hard on.

Help finally came when the Vietnamese over-threw the Khmer Rouge in ‘78, but it didn’t end there. Financed by China and Thailand with indirect support from the US (yes, that’s the US of A) the Khmer Rouge managed to maintain a guerrilla war in Phnom Penh throughout the 80s. In fact, “the UN allowed the Khmer Rouge to occupy the Cambodian seat at the UN General Assembly until 1991, meaning the murderers represented their victims for 12 years.”

Pol Pot, the educated man who killed everyone with an education, died in jail on 15 April 1998 denying the people of Cambodia both truth and justice forever.

History lesson over.

Phnom Penh is home to Tuol Sleng Museum (aka S-21 Prison) and The Killing Fields of Choeung Ek where some of the most heinous of the Khmer Rouge crimes were executed. And as macabre as it sounds, it’s these two places that had brought us to Cambodia’s once deserted capital.

Visiting places like this is always kind of a weird one for me. I want to go, but I don’t. I know what to expect, but I’m always shocked by what I see. It’s never how I imagined it would be, and I’m too scared to imagine how it really was. It’s daunting, but it has to be done.

We arrived at Security Prison – 21 as the rest of Phnom Penh was waking. It was quite. From the outside it looked like the high school it once was. 3 long, white-walled, double-story buildings set out in a U shape with classrooms leading off balconied corridors.

It was only once we entered the gates that we notice the barbed wire that sealed off the balconies, erected to prevent prisoners taking their own lives. And slowly the realisation that we were standing in the largest centre of detention and torture in the country began to set in.

As you walk from classroom to classroom you’re introduced to face, after face, after face, after face of the people who suffered so tremendously in this hell hole. Some of their hollow skulls stare back at you from inside glass cabinets. Looking at them all, rows and rows, and rows of them you think they would never have fitted so many people in here. No ways. It’s just not big enough. But then you learn that they were averaging 100 murders a day.

Enter another room and torture devices become the display. And another and you’re confronted with oil paintings depicting the Khmer Rouge using the devices to what is obviously great affect. The Khmer Rouge requested one of the prisoners to paint these scenes of brutality after discovering he was an artist. Doing so saved his life.

When the Khmer Rouge fell, they fled fast leaving a dozen people for dead in their torture chambers. It’s these chambers that make up the third and final building we visited. The 12 people were buried in the school grounds, but the rooms have been left as they were found with the inclusion of a black and white picture taken of each body that now sits above the rusty metal bed it was chained to.

Next stop, the Killing Fields.

When the barbarians at S-21 were killing too many people a day to fit into the mass graves dug in the old school grounds, an order went out to open the Killing Fields of Choeung Ek. Prisoners of the detention centre were sent here, blind folded, made to kneel on the hard earth and then bludgeoned to death. Sometimes there were so many people sent that there wasn’t enough time to kill everyone in one day, so they’d make the remaining few stand in a line an wait their turn in a holding cell.

There are 129 mass graves here, some of which haven’t even been excavated. It’s estimated that approximately 17,000 men, women and children were executed here between 1975 and 1978.
Walking around here is an incredibly sobering experience. There’s a sign on a tree labelling it as the tree they smashed babies heads against. It’s hard to read. It’s worse to imagine.

You look up and see the music speakers the killers fitted to the tree tops to drown out the last words of the people they were killing. You look down and see bones, teeth and clothing poking out from beneath your feet. You’re walking on dead people.

A stupa erected as a memorial to those that lost their lives here stands tall above the mass graves. Encased inside are almost 9000 human skulls excavated here. One, on top of the other, on top of the other...

There’s nothing that I can say that’ll make you truly understand how harrowing visiting places like this actually is. To see what people are capable of. To see how dark and sinister a human being can become. It’s scary. It’s really is scary.

More pics here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/43679192@N07/sets/72157624974824168/

Chapter 17 - Angkor What?

I’m ashamed to admit that I knew very little about Cambodia’s ancient temples before I arrived in the country. The small amount I did know was not from any formal teachings, but rather from films like Indiana Jones which I rated as a kid, and yes, Tomb Raider in my later years. So I was not prepared for the history lesson that would captivate me and the sites that would make me feel like a child again.

The Temples (Wats) of Angkor were made by the Khmer kings in a process that began over a millennium ago and lasted almost 4 centuries. They were then abandoned and left hidden within Cambodia’s forests.

When re-discovered about 150 years ago, not by Indie or Croft but a French explorer, the wats appeared to be fighting a losing battle with the dense jungle. Remember that scene when Croft was running through a temple with massive trees growing on top of it after she successfully stole the half triangle? That’s Ta Prohm Wat, not some big budget Hollywood stage.

The most impressive wat has to be Angkor Wat - believed to be the largest religious structure in the world. It’s not just the scale of it that griped me, but the craft and attention to detail.

Those are just two of the many temples that sent me running around, on top and over in search of hidden treasures guarded by mythical six-armed guardian status, all the while thinking that Indie may crack his whip around the next corner.

I now understand why the people of Cambodia are so proud. Why the wats are at their heart and soul. Proven by the way they proudly display an image of Angkor Wat on their national flag. Even their nation beer is called Angkor.

A beer which we got stuck into with a crazy Irish Couple, Brid & Mike, at ‘Angkor What? Bar’ on Bar Street, Siem Reap, while eating BBQed frogs and discussing why Angkor Wat is one of the 8th wonders of the world and not one of the 7.

So delicious was this precious golden liquid that we thought the keg before us might be the last left in this saloon, so naturally we had to get our fair share...

Check out some pics here - http://www.flickr.com/photos/43679192@N07/

K&M

Chapter 16 - Scamalot

Entering a new country is always a daunting task. Having to get used to a new culture, a new language, new modes of transport and a new currency is no easy feat. You’re out of your comfort zone before you’ve even crossed the border. It’s hard. And what makes it even harder are the scam artists lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce on the first naïve person that shows their bemused face.

Up until Bangkok we had done well to avoid any such scamsters. Stories traded by travelers over backpacker bar tables tend to keep one abreast of what’s happened to who and where. And websites like Lonely Planet and Travelfish are kept up to date with information about the latest con artists doing the rounds, so you generally know what to look out for when you’re on the road.

But the unfortunate truth is, no matter how scam-savvy you are, there will come a time on your travels where you will fall victim to the cons of one of these slimy men.

Our time came heading into Siem Reap in Cambodia.

It was 7am when the bus pulled up outside our guesthouse near Khaosan Road in Bangkok. It was bang on time and looked exactly like the one they had shown us in the picture the day before. Good start.

We chucked our bags in the under carriage, took our seats and we were off. Around the corner. Where we stopped. For 2 hours. End of good start.

When we finally got on the road (again) the journey to the border was fairly painless, apart from having 1 too many wee stops to satisfy even the weakest of bladders. We later found out that these stops are planned to ensure you arrive well after your ETA and absolutely exhausted, so you’ll succumb to whatever they throw at you when you get to the other side.

But the fun really began when we pulled up at a cafe displaying prices that would give a Ramsey restaurant a run for its money.

We were booted off the bus and met by a group of Cambodian gents that greeted us like we were their lost friends from a childhood long past. They were introduced to the group as the guys who would be “looking after” us for the rest of the journey, and as we found a table and took our seats they seemed to disperse into the group “assigning” themselves pairs or trios of travelers.

Our friendly chap took his place opposite us and without hesitation struck up a conversation in what was almost perfect English. He asked us questions about our country and gave us little tidbits about things to see and do in his. We chatted for a while about our families and our homes and he seemed genuinely interested and interesting, which I guess, looking back now, is what relaxed us into the situation.

As time went by we began to like this person. Trust him even. So when he started saying things like “No problem, I’ll take your passports, it’ll be quicker to process your visas if I do it because I’m Cambodian” or “the government says you have to come into the country with X amount of money now” or “this is the last place you’ll be able to exchange your Bhat because the rest of Cambodia doesn’t take that currency,” it really put a spanner in the works because nowhere in any of the research we’d researched did we remember it saying any such things.

When you’re put in a situation like this, you suddenly begin to question yourself and your sources of information. You start to quiz each other on what you remember about what you read. Then you start to question him, but you like him. He’s so nice, and the only supply of “trustworthy” information you have at your disposal now that you’re in the middle of nowhere.

Panic slowly takes hold of you. You’re running out of time. “The bus needs to leave” he says, but you’re caught up in your own confusion. The words “what if he’s right” are ringing in your head, but your gut is screaming “SCAM, SCAM, SCAM!”

Decisions need to be made. So you make them. Right or wrong? You have no idea.

The next thing you know you’re getting back on a bus, not the bus you came in on, and definitely not the one that they showed you in the picture the day before. You sit down, trying to piece together what just happened and make sense of what you’ve just done. Your new best friend is nowhere to be seen and all of a sudden the penny drops…

I’d like to say the whole thing ended there, and we were left to contemplate our stupidity for the rest of the journey, but it didn’t.

Another hefty amount of (tactical) stops meant that we arrived in Siem Reap well after dark, just as they had planned. The bus stopped about 5Kms outside the town with organized Tuk-Tuks ready and waiting to pick us up, rip us off and drop us at the guesthouse we had basically been sold to. As we were literally in the middle of nowhere, we had no choice but to take them.

Our trip finally ended with a rather nasty exchange with the driver when he tried to accuse us of ripping him off. The bloody cheek.

We had been taken for a ride.

In essence, this may all sound a bit lame and, well, avoidable. And for the most part it probably was. But that’s the thing about a con artist and his cons, they make you question yourself and everything you know to be true. They plant the seed of doubt in your head, insecurity sets in, and that’s when the scamsters won.

The shittest thing about it all is not the loss of money believe it or not (although that does suck), it’s the kick you give yourself when you start to look back and realize you’re the idiot who fell for it all. The whole thing happens right in front of your face and it’s you who makes the decisions that result in your loss of cash. You practically give your hard-earned money away.

At the end of the day you have to take your hat off to these shysters who have the ability to make a fool out of even the smartest of folk. And take the experience as a lesson learnt albeit a rather unpleasant one.

Chapter 15 - Top 5

We were chatting to a local on Koh Mook Island. We asked him what snorkeling around a certain island was like. His response was, ‘It’s a little better than boring’. A phrase that we have adopted as our own, as it really sums up beach life, which we sooo love living. It’s not crazy or full of adventure, as you spend most passing hours looking at the water or in it. It’s exactly that, a little better than boring.

So here are our “top five” for a little better than boring things for Thailand’s West Coast (aka month 2)

Number 5: Koyak Seafood. A rustic locally owned restaurant that hugs the side of the cliff. The view of the bay is amazing… and the freshly caught BBQ fish is even better.

Number 4: Sea kayaking around Railah. When you feel like snorkeling you just bail off the side. Water was crystal and fish were abundant. Just wish I had my spear gun to catch dinner.

Number 3: Snorkeling around Koh Ngai & Koh Cheuk. Now these islands aren’t as pristine as the Similian Islands, but they are special in their own way. You snorkel around shallow water reefs with fish trying to nibble you. We even saw a coral snake. Thankfully it wasn’t as interest in us.

Number 2: Emerald Caves. Imagine swimming through an 80m pitch black tunnel while the walls howl. And just when you think fuckit I’m turning around the tunnel opens up to an enclosed emerald sea with a white beach surrounded by forest cliffs.

And number 1 goes to…

Koh Jum… everything about this place is perfect. All I can say is go there before the rest of the world discovers it.

K&M

Chapter 14 - A Quickie in Bangkok

We did eventually reach Bangkok after the epic 18-something hour train journey, and we had an awesome time. But I'm not going to tell you about it now because we're going back there so I'll write something decent then.

We took a lot of photos though, so click here:. http://www.flickr.co.m/photos/43679192 @ N07/sets/72157623472241203 /. if you're bored at work and you need something to make you look busy.

It's worth noting a few things before you do though, so you know what you're looking at when you're looking at them.

Firstly, we were joined by Paul's younger brother, Carlos. He's the guy with the longish black hair who looks nothing like Paul.

Secondly, we were in Bangkok over the King's birthday, and the Thais LOVE their King. So any photos featuring a mass load of people, or fireworks, or both were taken on the night the country came together to celebrate.

Last, but certainly not least, when you come across the pics of shark fins, shark fins, and more shark fins, that's Chinatown, and yes, those are for soup.

Sadly this is where we also had to say goodbye to Paul and Sarah as they headed up to Nothern Thailand and we ventured into Cambodia. I would have inserted a little 'sad face' here if we hadn't just met up with them in Hanoi, but that's another blog all together.

Right, that's it. Stay tuned for tales of Cambodia, there are a few ...

Chapter 13 - Are we there yet?

Chapter 12 – *knock, knock* Um hi, is this heaven?

The little town of Trang wasn’t meant to be anything more than a stopover. As far as we knew it had no real attraction other than an ATM and the train that would take us up the coast to Bangkok. Lonely Plant only thought enough of it to give it half a page, with a combined eating and sleeping section I might add, so we put it down as a bit of a non place.

Until we found out it had a Tesco that is. And I'm not just talking about any old Tesco, but a Super Tesco. (For all our SAFFA friends, think giant Pick ‘n Pay).

It may sound slightly odd to be excited about the prospect of going to an ordinary store, and a super one jam-packed with people at that. In fact most people, including myself, would normally despair at the thought. So let me put it into perspective for you.

For close to 60 days straight we had survived solely on Thai food. Not that there’s anything wrong with Thai food. It’s delicious! Gorgeous even. But every dish is a taste explosion that never seems to give your palette a rest. And by this stage in our trip the thought of facing another chilli, lime, sugar, salt, soya, fish sauce, coconut milk concoction was kind of making me gag.

I was in need of something, well, bland. Or maybe bland's the wrong word. I was in need of individual flavours, like bread - minus the sugar. Or cheese, just cheese. Mmm cheese...

I had also started to suffer some major wine withdrawals. Anyone who’s spent any time at all with me will know that I’m rather partial to the odd glass of Sauvignon Blanc or seven. And those who were unfortunate enough to be around me during my one and only sober January will also know that the monster unleashed through depravation is far worse than the one copious amounts of white wine could ever conjure up.

For these reasons the Super Tesco in Trang was going to be more than just a source of retail therapy, it was going to be my saviour. Marc's saviour. In fact Thailand's saviour.

Our sardine can of a minibus came to a rude halt outside the train station. But as I opened the door the sun came out from behind the clouds and the angels began to sing. I swear it was like being in the feel-good part of a Disney film. Before me stood a sign that read ‘BAKERY’. And just beyond that glowing sign were people sitting around round tables enjoying pots of real coffee and dare I say it, sandwiches – real sandwiches filled with ham, and cheese, and chicken mayonnaise on ciabattas, and baguettes and thick cut brown bread and croissants...

Tesco was going to have to wait.

When we had gorged ourselves with enough bread to warrant the unbuttoning of top buttons, we could move on with our lives. Next on the agenda, accommodation, and yet again the gods were looking down on us.

We found a gorgeous little boutique hotel right by the train station we were leaving from the next day which had wifi, a fridge, hot water, air-con (4 things none of us had seen in a very long time), and wait for it, a TV. Up until that point I couldn’t remember where last I had even layed eyes on a TV let alone watched one.

And that isn’t even the best of it. Not only did this TV have cable, it had Super Sport on cable, and cricket on Super Sport, and who could be playing this game of cricket, but South Africa. Seriously, could life get any better?

By this point I was about to spontaneously combust with excitement.Tesco was going to have to wait a little longer...

We spent a couple of hours in our little lap of luxury doing the things that regular people do like having hot showers, channel surfing, catching up with emails, opening and closing the fridge door, you know general things like that. And when we started to feel slightly normal like normal people do we decided it was time. Tesco would wait no longer (it was 4 o’clock and we were scared it might shut at 5).

So we hailed one of the retro looking tuk tuks and its driver and said “Take us to Tesco kap koon ka (please)” and he did and it was magical.

Aisles and aisles of things and people and things, just like home, except for the live fish in the fish section, and the seaweed flavoured crisps, other than those minor things, just like home.

Like fat kids in a chocolate factory we filled our baskets with butter and cheese, proper Edam cheese (‘cause that’s all they had) and crunchy sugar-free baguettes and lettuce and tomatoes and salad cream and snack things and it was lush.

Then we headed to the wine section, and it was closed, but only until 5. For some bizarr reason you could only buy alcohol from 9-14 and 17 till 22. A minor glitch in the matrix as it was 16:15 but it was all good. We were willing to wait.

Packed and paid for we took our spoils (wine included) back to the hotel, borrowed a couple of knives and plates from the sweet, sweet restaurant staff next door and made giant sandwiches in our room.

When all was done we ventured to the restaurant downstairs. They put on the cricket for us and just when I thought this day could not get any better, we opened the menu. Pizza and wine. Affordable pizza and wine. Pizza made with proper mozzarella cheese and wine made from Australian grapes (as opposed to rice).

This just had to be heaven...

K&M

PS We haven't uplaoded any pics onto flickr because, well, there aren't really any. I think we were too busy eating...