Weather: Still between 26 and 34 everyday but the ‘monsoon season’ is definitely starting to have some meaning!
60, 000 Riel to £1 – although most things are in US dollars and I’ve completely lost track of what anything costs anyway
30th May: Karaoke bus
Not as much fun as it sounds, even if you like karaoke, which I don’t particularly. We’re the only 3 westerners on the bus and it’s $5 for the 7 hour ride – for that you get air con (real this time), a few completely random stops in the middle of nowhere and some atrocious Cambodian karaoke DVDs to which, thank god, no-one actually sings. It's not the comfiest bus I've been on (can't beat the sleepers) but there are a few spare seats and I have two to myself which doesn't quite explain why entire families have squashed themselves into one. Still, we seem to be learning that there is no limit to how many Cambodians you can fit on a bus.
This is our 3rd day in here. We took a mini bus back from 4 thousand islands to the border (again, full family stuffed in front seat) – briefly held up by a large army truck as apparently there’d been a ‘boom’ - and then we crossed the border (2 sheds and a broken barrier) on Saturday morning and have been staying in Kratie since then. It’s a bit of a break the journey type place and not so much a destination so to summarise those 2 days: the guesthouse was lovely and cheap, we watched a beautiful sunset over the Mekong river, the food was bad, the markets vile and the town is swarming with bugs, smells like fish and looks like it’s been bombed. Actually, it probably has been bombed. On the plus side, we’re leaving.
4th June: Proper pavements and everything!
It’s good to be back in the city! Even if the first statue you see is of a huge pistol. Neon lights, adverts shops, supermarkets, pedestrian crossings and even pavements – who’d have thought you could miss that? The second you get off the bus you realise that you don’t. This place is crazy. The tuk-tuk drivers are like hungry dogs and race us to our bags in order to claim our custom before driving us through a mental city where the green man at the traffic lights is actually sprinting as no one is stopping! Tat’s guesthouse looks dodgy and I’m highly suspicious this is even the place we were trying to get to but eventually we decide probably safer than getting back on that tuk-tuk anyway. As it turns out, it was the right place and it’s lovely. We spend a couple of days there, checking out some cool bars nearby (one with a pool and which was possibly the nicest bar I’ve ever seen – perfect for birthday cocktails) and waiting out the occasion monsoon with Mimi the dancing dog.
On a more tragic note, we also visited an old high school where 20,000 city dwellers and professionals were held captive and tortured during the 4 year reign of Khmer Rouge as the leader, Pol Pot, attempted to clear the cities and turn the country into a rice growing machine and its people into slaves. Cambodia has seen its fair share and most horrifically, this was a mere 20 years ago - 1/3 of the country was wiped out and of the 20,000 innocent prisoners, 7 survived.
The New Regime by Sarith Pou
No religious rituals. 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 communications.
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 laugher.
No music. No dancing.
No romance. No flirting.
No fornication. No dating.
No wet dreaming.
No masturbating.
No naked sleepers.
No bathers.
No nakedness in the showers.
No love songs. No love letters.
No affection.
No marrying. No divorcing.
No marital 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 jewellery.
No soap. No detergent. No shampoo.
No knitting. No embroidery.
No coloured clothes, except black.
No styles, except pyjamas.
No wine. No cigarettes.
No morning coffee. No afternoon tea.
No snacks. No desserts.
No breakfast (sometimes no dinner)
No mercy. No forgiveness.
No regrets. No remorse.
No second chances. No excuses.
No complaints. No grievances.
No help. No favours.
No eyeglasses. No dental treatment.
No vaccines. No medicines.
No hospitals. 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.
6th of June, Angkor Wat.
6 hours further on a bus, little more luxury, little less karaoke (and possibly the world's friendliest tour girl) and we're in Siem Reap. It looks a little like Vang Viang with its touristy shops, sandy roads, markets and bars. It also looks a lot saner and I think we're all ready to be able to cross the road without losing a few years each time. The guesthouse belongs to the brother of the previous place and is absolutely stunning - and at $8 between 3 with a free pick up from the bus station, we're all smiling – so far so good.
We head to Angkor Wat within an hour or so (800 years old and still the world's largest religious building) to see the sunset but only get to see a lot more rain, an aggressive monkey and a lot of children selling cheap bracelets and postcards (careful, equally aggressive). Hoping for a little more success, we try for sunrise and emerge at 5am, however the tuk-tuk runs out of gas on the way and we watch the sunrise in the car park of a supermarket. Still, we’re not quite beaten - the temple looks amazing in the morning light, the crowds are smaller and the heat is bearable so we spend the next 8 hours wandering through ruins, climbing almost vertical stone stairs, being watched by the many smiling carved faces of Buddha and gasping at the strength of the massive trees that have grown through layers of rock and soared above the towers. But, 3 temples down and our tuk-tuk has broken down again, this time for real. We’re left at the side of the road for an hour – during which time our thoughts have gone from ‘I hope he comes back with a better bike’ to simply ‘I hope he comes back’. Temple 6 down and we’re exhausted by the poor, persistent (and often mean) children, laden with the stuff we’ve been to ashamed to not buy and we’re baking in the sun. So at temple no 7, we barely stop in fear of having to buy more bracelets and then at the 8th and last (woohoo!), Joel doesn’t even get out and Claire and I just hide round the back until we think it looks like we’ve had enough time to see it. I spend my last dollar on a bottle of water, it tastes like chalk and within an hour, I realise the exhaustion is not from the beauty of it all but is quite simply sunstroke and I spend the rest of the day sick as a dog. I’m beaten.
We head to Angkor Wat within an hour or so (800 years old and still the world's largest religious building) to see the sunset but only get to see a lot more rain, an aggressive monkey and a lot of children selling cheap bracelets and postcards (careful, equally aggressive). Hoping for a little more success, we try for sunrise and emerge at 5am, however the tuk-tuk runs out of gas on the way and we watch the sunrise in the car park of a supermarket. Still, we’re not quite beaten - the temple looks amazing in the morning light, the crowds are smaller and the heat is bearable so we spend the next 8 hours wandering through ruins, climbing almost vertical stone stairs, being watched by the many smiling carved faces of Buddha and gasping at the strength of the massive trees that have grown through layers of rock and soared above the towers. But, 3 temples down and our tuk-tuk has broken down again, this time for real. We’re left at the side of the road for an hour – during which time our thoughts have gone from ‘I hope he comes back with a better bike’ to simply ‘I hope he comes back’. Temple 6 down and we’re exhausted by the poor, persistent (and often mean) children, laden with the stuff we’ve been to ashamed to not buy and we’re baking in the sun. So at temple no 7, we barely stop in fear of having to buy more bracelets and then at the 8th and last (woohoo!), Joel doesn’t even get out and Claire and I just hide round the back until we think it looks like we’ve had enough time to see it. I spend my last dollar on a bottle of water, it tastes like chalk and within an hour, I realise the exhaustion is not from the beauty of it all but is quite simply sunstroke and I spend the rest of the day sick as a dog. I’m beaten.
