August 17, 2007

Phnom Penh (CAMBODIA)

Seeing the Impressive and Dismal Sides of Phnom Penh

I made a late start this morning as travel weariness has been kicking in again. My breakfast became my lunch, and I ate at a terrific backpacker restaurant called The Lazy Gecko. While I waited for my food to cook, I browsed through the many books lining the walls (many places do 2-for-1 book swaps) and thinking about what a good name Lazy Gecko is: a gecko is famous for adapting to its surroundings, and the best way to blend in is to go along with the flow of the locals rather than rushing about like a tourist. I don't know if this is what the owner intended, but even if it wasn't, the Khmer curry was quite good.

I suppose now is as good a time as any to talk about Cambodian food, which is noticeably different from other Southeast Asian cuisine. Unlike Vietnam where most dishes are served with noodles (made of rice), Khmer cooking come with white rice, and I have found there are two main styles: curry and loc-lac. The curries are not green like in Thailand, but are a dark brown and are usually a black pepper kind of spicy (as opposed to a chili kind of spice). Loc lac is a style of cooking that uses oyster sauce and lime to bring the food to life. Both types of cooking are good, but I have a difficult time eating curry every meal.

Today I had the entire afternoon free to explore Phnom Penh, so I decided to be brave and walk the city from one end to another. In truth, I never felt particularly threatened because there were always people around me and I was never in a confined area. Night-time is another matter altogether as the streets literally clear out and the city becomes a bit more of a ghost-town.

After 20 minutes of walking I came across a massive line of women and children snaking around a brick building. I was curious what was going on, and after standing around watching I spotted another Westerner whom I approached. The man was Belgian, and he explained that this is the only hospital in Phnom Penh that offers free health care for children, so people from all over Cambodia come here for treatment. Unfortunately, swarms of people, limited resources, and only so many hours in the day means most people return day-after-day to seek treatment.

I spent 15 minutes talking about the sad state of affairs (actually I mostly just listened while the Belgian man talked), when he went on to explain that he had a 16-month old son waiting in line. I hid my surprise as he explained that he spent a couple months motor-biking around Cambodia, and in the process he got a local woman pregnant. He "knew it [sleeping with her] was a risk he was taking, and this is the consequence of his actions." I thought it was fairly commendable that he came out here from Belgium to help the sick child, but at the same time I was quite frustrated at yet another foreigner who sleeps around with locals with relative impunity. More fatherless children is hardly what Cambodia needs to get back on its feet.

Across the street from the hospital was a park seemingly dedicated to a lasting peace after all the killing that has plagued Cambodia. Although there were no signs, the artwork in the middle of the park spoke volumes: it was a collection of used firearms pieced together to form a dove with a rose in its beak. Rifle cylinders lined the bird's chest while the massive chambers of machine guns formed the wings.

From the park it was a short walk across the street to Wat Phnom, which is located on the only hill in Phnom Penh. There was a mini-gallery of sorts at the base of the hill with a collection of paintings and various other Angkor era items. I spent twenty minutes looking through everything as it was the first time I have been free to look without being pestered by questions like "You want to buy mister? I give you cheap price. You tell me how much!" Such conversations get old quickly, so the peace and quiet was more than welcome.

Walking up the hill there were monkeys running about along with children trying to sell water and postcards. I passed out Mentos fruit candy as I passed by as I always feel bad blowing children off by not buying anything. At the top of the hill were a large white pagoda and an impressive Buddhist temple. After taking my shoes off I stepped inside the temple and rested on a mat while looking on at the bronze Buddha. There were hundreds of candles lit in the foreground and the smoke added to the sense of serenity within the temple. I did the traditional clock-wise circuit around the room and left 100 riel at several of the shrines - it never hurts to be on the safe side.

Once I left the hill it was a 3km walk to reach the selection of "sights" in Phnom Penh, and my walk took me through some definitive 3rd world areas of the city. There was filth and grime everywhere, and when people urinate from the street onto the sidewalk it is never a good sign. The only positive aspect is that I noticed policeman around in numbers and there were cleaning crews doing their best to organize the rubbish (cleaning is nearly impossible).

I decided to get out of the nasty part of town and stick the to riverfront where there were a scattering of left over colonial buildings that have since become hotels or chic cafes. The river itself was depressing to look at as there is no way anything lives in it and when I saw a man float by I did a double check to make sure it wasn't actually a dead corpse.

I found the monk (shown to the left) to be particularly amusing - his robe makes him look like a convict from a distance, and the shaved head certainly doesn't help matters. The bright orange is a new sight for me as most Buddhist monks wear a dark brown or maroon color, which is far less gaudy. Even the bright yellow umbrella seems a bit much, but I suppose Cambodian monks have a style of their own. To be fair, I believe Southeast Asia has a different style of Buddhism from what I have seen in places like India, Tibet, and Indonesia, so it is something I need to look more into.

I arrived at the gates of the National Palace just as the sky began to open up on me, and I had to huddle against a wall to avoid getting soaked. It seems to rain every afternoon in Cambodia, but it is always a quick shower that lasts 20 minutes and then the skies become clear once more. Today was no different, and soon I was exploring a particularly impressive collection of regal buildings. The pictures below will do a better job of relating what it was like than I ever could.

In the late afternoon I stopped by the Myanmar embassy where I picked up my visa and passport. From the embassy, I hopped on the back of a motorbike to an old Khmer Rouge torture compound, called S-21, which has since been become a museum of sorts.

S-21 was originally a Cambodian high school before the Khmer government turned it into the primary location for the systematic torture and murder of the country's intellectuals and subverts. As I walked through the main courtyard the setting looked peaceful and innocent enough, but as I neared the holding cells the real nature of the grounds became apparent. I could still see blood stained cement floors, beds with ankle locks, and the barren desolation so obviously associated with the knowledge that nearly 10,000 men, women, and children died where I was now standing.

I have been to Auschwitz on a cold rainy day and walked through both the interrogation rooms and the gas chambers. I have walked the halls of Tibet's Potala Palace where there are still remnants of the mass bombing and murder that was inflicted on defenseless monks. I have even seen baby fetuses preserved in jars showing the gruesome effects of Agent Orange. Now, in Cambodia, I have seen mass graves and human skulls stacked 30 feet high. To stand in the very location where those skulls were so horrifically denied their right to life - and for as unjustifiable a crime as being at all associated with one who is educated and thus a threat - was as low a moment as any I can recall.

It rained as I rode back to my hostel for the evening, and all I could stomach for dinner was a tepid glass of water.