Rumblings of a marketing man on tour…

I accidentally hit snooze on the alarm this morning. Having had about four hours sleep, I was absolutely bushed. In a haze on hearing it the second time, it slowly dawned on me this leg of the tour was coming to a close. I had a flight to the ‘pore to catch, and it was time to get a wriggle on…

Up, shower, check out. I was rather touched to get a call via the taxi driver on the way to the airport from the hotel receptionist, telling me he’d undercharged me a whole US dollar, and could I leave it with the cabby? No please, no thank you.

My tripadvisor write up of them will reflect just how I feel on that one…

So, an overpriced coffee+croissant as I wait to board. And mild confusion as to the radio they’re playing. 80′s and 90′s ‘classics’ (and I am using that term VERY loosely you understand), from Bryan Adams, Whitney (whose new song million dollar man I love), Mariah etc. But when the song reaches the rousing climactic key change, they’re skipping onto the next song.

I mean, it’s the key change (or modulation if we’re being pedantic), for Christ’s sake. The whole song hangs off that euphoric moment. Still, I digress.

The near disaster of the morning, Jetstar nearly didn’t let me board my flight back to SG to make my London connection. Twas meant to be a two part return, Siem Reap to Phnom Penh, and then onto Singapore. Same plane, just a quick stop.

Before booking my bus to PP and changing my plans, I double checked with Jetstar that I could skip flight part one and just get on at PP. Computer said yes.

This morning however, computer said no. The computer said I didn’t exist, therefore I couldn’t board, and would need to buy a new ticket. I thought at the time phone call with Jetstar went a tad too easily. I obviously got the call-centre equivalent of the McTrainee with 0/5 stars to their name…

Amazing what a little mild flirtation, charm and humility can get you. So, to the lovely check in supervisor who ended up going from stern to putty in approximately 90 seconds, I thank you for your assistance and securing my safe passage back to the ‘pore…

Iain is off for lunch in SG, and bidding a fond farewell to Cambodia and her friendly people…

I had a blinding massage tonight.

Seriously feels wrong having a full hour for just ten measly dollars, but when in Rome….

One thing I was a little miffed by, I never managed to see any traditional Khmer dancing when during my week here.

So post massage, the tuktuk took the scenic route to the restaurant I asked for (good job I haggled up front), and as we swung by the grassy knoll outside the royal palace. My karaoke-dar could hear some singing, and huge crowds dancing.

I asked him to stop for a minute and we wandered over. There were some made up beauties giving it some, and hoards of men around them cutting shapes. That’s the only way I can describe it.

The only time I’ve seen men (or anyone for that matter), dance in a similar way, they were absolutely off their tits in Tintins, or Subway back in the 90′s. A quick dinner, one Beer Laos too many, and it’s time to pack for my early flight to Singapore in the morning…

Iain has rather enjoyed his spell in Cambodia. And could do with a Brummy Thursday night roar soon…

After yesterday, I wasn’t really sure what I felt like today. I was very glad I didn’t postpone yesterdays history lesson until my last full day here which I was very tempted to do. I woke up early (8am, not so bad but didn’t drift off till 2am ish), and lay in bed thinking for a while. Breakfast came and went, and I decided that I’d do the walking tour that was in the bastion of travel books, the lonely planet.

I saunter round the tick box sites (the temple on the only hill in the city, the US Embassy with all it’s big gates and guns at the bottom of the hill (great defensible location!), Raffles outpost in Cambodia, the Japanese bridge, the river, the old French bibliotheque, a few temples, a market, the ‘Olympic’ stadium, The Independence Monument, a few art galleries, the national museum, and finally the Royal palace).

Was a three or so hour walk, but the coffee I had half way through on the main street (Monivong) was the highlight. Cafe Sentiment, an ordinary muffin, a nice coffee, but the best view of the busiest junction in Phom Pehn. I turned my table towards the window, and sat and watched the mayhem for about an hour. Quite why they even bothered with traffic lights, completely beyond me!

On one corner of the junction, lay a dilapidated, dirty, dusty old building. In it’s day, it must have been the finest building in the city. Although it’s still standing proud watching over the mayhem below, it’s sad to see it fall into a state of disrepair…

I promised myself two things.

1. I would read every word in every exhibit and look in the eyes of every photo of every man, woman and child on show.
2. I would not cry.

Knowing a guide would be great for additional information but would rush me round, I declined the offer and pushed on. Particularly as the cheeky bitch on the entry gate tried to charge me four times the going rate!

So, for now, I’ll start with the killing fields. About 20 minutes out of town in a tuktuk, the journey takes you through some of the real mayhem you expect to see in Asia. Stacks of pedestrians, motorbikes and tuktuks taking on drivers. Three or four generations of one family huddled together on a tiny little moped, two of them casually sat not hanging onto a thing.

Street stalls and vendors screaming and selling. Open sewers, rotting garbage, the elderly, the destitute, the wealthy all rubbing along side by side going about their daily business. Usually as loud as possible. And then we arrive.

A stark contrast to the calm, quiet, serene vibe found at the killing fields of Cheung Ek where many people from S21 were killed. There is a small museum building, a video, the central stupa and a few plaques on the way. Eerily quiet, the stupa with many skulls on show is surprisingly easy to deal with. Bones only represent what is left behind when we die. The real horrors for me lay in the museum.

Tuol Sleng (link and place not for the faint hearted),  is one of the most remarkable museums I have ever visited. This former suburban high school was turned into one of the regimes maximum security detention centres, where some 20,000 men, women, children (foreigners, Cambodians and even some Khmer Rouge themselves), were interrogated, tortured, maimed, usually before being shipped off to be killed at Chueng Ek.

There were four school buildings, each demonstrating the horror, pain and brutality the Khmer inflicted on their own people. The tiny cramped cells had a strange feel to them. I’d never understood the phrase ‘death hung in the air’ until today.

The larger cells for the VIP’s were even worse. A huge room, a small bed with a blanket and a tiny cushion. Instruments of torture still litter the rooms, the interrogation area outside still standing.

The rooms the museum has since turned into exhibit areas still have  prisoner cell numbers on the wall. No detail missed, no horror left untold. Barbed wire still surrounds the compound, and the balconies on the higher floors. Just in case the prisoners escaped, they couldn’t jump to their deaths. Just get caught in barbed wire and increase their suffering, prolong their slow protracted death.

The bit that really choked me was the photographs. Like the Nazis, the Khmer Rouge documented everything. Photographs on arrival, before & after torture, as well as the obligatory photograph to close the file upon death.

I kept my first promise.

I walked round the entire place slowly. I read every word and I looked at every photograph of every individual on show. What struck me was the look in so many of their eyes. Some defiant, some filled with hope, many even smiling as they were in front of the camera. Such a sad and tragic waste. Some really leapt out, whether it be their looks, their smile, their pained expressions. But the looks on the faces of those that were crushed?

Well, I’d like to think was not because their spirit had been broken, but because they could not understand how a fellow man (or woman, as they were guards too), could inflict such pain on another human soul.

I don’t know if I believe people can be born evil. But I know I would sooner die myself than take a baby by the legs, and break it’s skull beating it against a tree. That’s what they did. If you are killing, kill the whole family. If not, someone might just grow up and come and take revenge. Such unbelievable brutality.

It’s been a rough day, but I would encourage you to go if you visit Cambodia. If we don’t learn from these events, then I fail to see how we will ever evolve. Today, every photo that was there, I looked at. But for every photo out there I haven’t seen, for every soul that was touched by this brutal regime, I want you to know you are remembered, and in my prayers.

Iain didn’t keep his second promise today…

The rules at detention centre S21.

A luxury suite for the VIP guests at S21...

It was an ordinary suburban high school like any other.

Then Pol Pot and his henchmen turned it into a maximum security detention centre, where officials and ordinary folk were brutally tortured, and killed.

I came knowing it’d be harrowing. They’ve left the rooms as they were, shackles, beds, with photos on the wall of those that were tortured there.

Like the Nazis, Pot’s regime documented everything. Emptional detachment is hard. I found myself welling up in the second room. The sheer needless and brutal waste of life.

Onwards.

Iain is somewhat pensive today…

I am here...

So, Phnom Penh. An interesting place.

Was once a major hub in the region. And then various conquerers (and the evil KR), blitzed it. So, once more, it’s just on the cusp of growth with a burgeoning middle class and international money starting to flow in…

It’s a little manic (we’re not talking Mumbai madness), and the pace is somewhat quicker than sleepy Siem Reap.

Would have been better to start here and wind down in Siem, as opposed to doing it this way…

Tomorrow, the tick box tourism sites. The Palace (still used, only small sections open to the public), Museum, wander round the Mekong river bank (trendy cafe spot), and then the Killing Fields.

Am in two minds about this. I know the horrors this country has faced. And I nearly wigged out in a concentration camp outside Berlin, wasn’t pretty.

But, can’t come all this way and not do something like that, so onwards…

Am exhausted. Feel like a cheat going to bed before 11pm, but I am absolutely shagged, and my neck glands are telling me that the candle would like to be burnt at one end. At least for a day or two…

Hotel is ok. Tuktuk driver said it was very expensive, could take me somewhere nicer. I believe he was right.

It’s ok, but I’ll be complaining in the morning when I have the energy. Fridge isn’t working, floor needs a mop (it’s concrete), my glasses are chipped, and the electrics look more than a little shabby…

Still, beds comfy. Until tomorrow.

Iain is off to bed…

So, the bus rolls out of the Reap.

We pass rice fields ahoy, with those cute little houses on stilts. People upstairs, little piggys and chickens beneath.

Not an idea to leave drunk in the middle of the night...

Loads of little villages, same rice fields, same lithe men and women tirelessly working the fields as the sun beats them.

Two observations.

There seems to be a little police hub and clinic every few villages, which is nice. But I’m not sure how affordable / corrupt both institutions are for the bulk of the Cambodian people…

Secondly, organised beggars. Bus stopped for a ten minute break in one of those transient towns nobody ever stops longer than they have to. Fuel (for the car and tum), and it’s back about our day.

Ten minutes became twenty five. But after about half that time, three beggars came and positioned themselves at the front, back and middle of the bus. I’m not saying they weren’t deserving cases, but when they know the bus timetables better than the drivers, one does wonder.

Cynical? Probably. Maybe one day we’ll abolish poverty rather than just talk about it, but the odd product red or white band and congratulate ourselves for doing something good.

Love to think it’ll happen in my lifetime…

Iain is enjoying the pretty scenery. And some Kanye West on the pod…

Still a toss up between this and The Little Mermaid as my fave disney film...

So, last night was a pleasant surprise. I went for a massage, and floated to the bar across the road for ONE beer. And you know what happened next…

Four or five Tigers later accompanied by some heavy flirting courtesy of the three beautiful bar boys (who were going well beyond the call of duty in their looking after me), I meet J.

A rather strapping specimen from oop north, just coming to the end of a year travelling. Now, believe it or not, I can be shy. No, really. Don’t let the brash, brazen, bullish banter fool you. I’m a complete puppy dog me. But a house-trained one.

Another J to thank for that, but that’s a story for another day. And probably another blog that 99% of you aren’t reading! Anyway, with him having travelled for a year, speaking to total strangers daily is par for the course.A few more beers, a run in with an unhappy Divit (Monday, bunny boiler, how dare I talk to anyone else etc), I skip off home sharpish to pack and drop off the laptop before grabbing a bite and more shandy with J.

Now, he is something of a rarity in my circles. Well educated, charming, funny, self-depricating, good job (prospects, currently bumming around the world), solvent, homeowner, not flouncy and huge arms. Always a winner…

It’s not often I meet someone who has that sparkiness about them. Someone with more than half an ounce of intelligence, comfortable talking about everything from civil liberties, politics, royalty, temples, religion and of course, travel…

The evening draws to a close, and in true Cinderella style (although I prefer to get aladin. Boom boom!), I was back in bed by 2am for my 740 am pick up this morning (which arrived at 815 but hey).

So thanks J for a lovely night, and restoring a little of my faith in the world. And more importantly people.

Finding those we have something in common with is hard. Be they friends or lovers, the special ones are few and far between and worth moving heaven and earth for.

Lessons I’ve learned far too late, but at least I’m starting to learn. Old dogs can learn new tricks.

Woof.

Iain is on a bus passing some stunning scenery. And learning to rollover…

Please move to Crouch End...

OK.

So if I am honest (I will try my bestest), there are several reasons for this. My being a lazy toad is but one of them!

But needing a place to recharge after several hours worth of hard templing is the main one. I am starting to find muscles in my legs I thought had abandoned me long ago, darn those big temple steps make you work!

So, my love of the blue pumpkin is easily summarised in a little list below. I love lists I do…

1. The ambiance, this place is so relaxing.
2. The food. It’s delicious, everything from pastries, to sandwiches, to full meals. Not forgetting the coffees and the fresh fruit juices. And cakes. And donuts. And home made ice-cream. My list could go on…
3. The very attentive staff (and not all of them are male / hot!)
4. Free wifi. That’s reliable. And works all the time! Something of a rarity I’m led to believe…
5. It’s handy location.

I’m not sure why, but the waiters seem to be much more attentive and hardworking than the waitresses. All the guys here work at twice the pace the women do. The ladies just seem to saunter around, not a care in the world whilst the men work twice as hard.

Still, I’m being kept fed, watered and am happy after my 2 days temple bashing. Tired, body aching and not looking forward to a 5 hour bus journey to Phnom Penh tomorrow. That massage I’m off for shortly should help ease the pain….

Iain really loves Blue Pumpkin. PLEASE open one in Crouch End for when I get home. You are miles better than any of my local eateries. Even S’able d’or. And that’s saying something…

Would I have lasted from the 12th century if I were in Peckham?

A few things as I pause from ongoing templeage…

• Am off the beaten track today. Smaller temples, largely just me, no tourists. Heaven…
• Despite having been wronged by most civilised nations, the Cambodians are a remarkably tolerant, open, welcoming, friendly race
• The ‘you waaan baaaaay teeeeshaaaaat meeeestaaaaaah?’, doesn’t grate. Despite hearing it a hundred times an hour, it’s done with such charm
• And they can close a sale better than most professional salespeople back home. Talk about objection handling!
• Aside from the odd faint hum of a tuktuk, and the odd local ramble, I could be hear alone. Silence is golden, and I could sit here for hours watching the ants crawl by, the butterflies sail through the air, as the ancient temples stand over yet another day…

I won’t though.

Coffee, a very late lunch and a massage are all waiting for me. Am loving this back to nature moment, but c’mon. A two hour massage for less than 25 dollars?

I’d be mad not to….

Iain could be a monk. For a week or two at least…