Rumblings of a marketing man on tour…

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…

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.

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…

Well, Asia wouldn’t be Asia without a deathtrap tuktuk ride now, would it?

It lashed down with rain for 30mins about 5pm. Properly torrential. Which was nice in the way really hard rain can be. A lot of the side / smaller roads aren’t too road like, so it was a rather bumpy ride.

Factor in a bike that’s probably not seen a service since 1972, and, well, you get the idea. That and actually picking a side of the road to travel on. It’s broadly the right, but this seems entirely at the drivers discretion…

Several wheel spins, one near tip (and a quick word to Ganesha), we make it to Blue Pumpkin (highly recommended by KC). Its clearly something of a Cambodian institution.

Downstairs, we have tables spilling onto the busy street. Inside downstairs, very average café like.

Upstairs however, is mostly white. Extended sofa type beds mean you can kick your shoes off and stretch out. Perfection…

The comfy Blue Pumpkin

Special little tables allow your food to perch around your bad self, assuming you get round to feeding yourself. If only I could stretch out and have someone feed me grapes….

Big ceiling fans keep you cool, and the free wireless ensures them regular visitation from the laptop luvvies. Handy, as the wireless in my hotel is about as reliable as 3 broadband customer services back in Blighty. Bad…

The waiter, well, he’s his own variety of delectable. No doubt Lady Muck (whose boyfriend seemed to like that nickname), wouldn’t approve, him being a worker and all….

Skipping back to KL for a moment if I may (almost over the lack of koala / oompaloompa sightings), when we were at the meeting at the airline, she noticed me clock a very fit, very handsome, and rather dirty technician in an overall.

Quite short, but muscled, stunning pearly whites, and a wicked grin I could read from 60,000 feet. He could easy have posed for an Asian Anne Geddes catalogue. Or, did she do babies? I’m thinking of the dude with two big car tyres greased up in overalls. Meh, anyhoo…

A slap to the arm, a firm yank, a loud no and marching orders proceeded. I was left somewhat stunned…

I was horrified to learn, I could do better than ‘a worker’. I mean, me and a worker, perish the thought ladies and gentleman. He was a baggage handler, therefore in a lowly social class all of his own. Apparently…

My argument of him not being for Christmas (well, it worked for all those puppies), didn’t wash. A valiant effort on my part, but it seems the race / sex / status fixations in Singapore run deep. And I thought we were class obsessed in Britain.

Still, beer number two beckons. The signature fish ravioli in coconut sauce was rather special. Very melt in the mouth. Speaking of which, that waiters smile, could melt a lot more.

Note to self, no more beer here. I don’t have Robert Redford’s millions after all!

Iain doesn’t want to leave Blue Pumpkin…