Ten Postcards for a Dollar

We were torn about how much time to spend touring Angkor Wat.  There are definite advantages of taking it slow, but in the end we made the right decision for us.  We bought a three-day pass, but only used it for two days.  Honestly, we probably could have seen everything we saw in a day, but spreading it out over two days allowed us to not rush and take a ride out to one of the temples that is further away (Banteay Srei).  We had somewhat of a limited timeframe in Cambodia, and spending less time at Angkor Wat allowed us to add in a stop to Battambang.  We had no desire to spend more time in Siem Reap; as far as I’m concerned, its only redeeming quality is the passion fruit pastries at Blue Pumpkin. As far as Angkor Wat itself, we liked seeing the ancient ruins, but neither of us are enthusiasts of ancient history and were happy with what we got to see in two days.

Another factor of why we chose to limit our time at Angkor Wat was because the experience was a bit frustrating at times.  We tried to time our visits to minimize chances of huge crowds (and admittedly, spreading out our time would have allowed us to do this even more), but we were there at the height of high season and all of the strategies in the world wasn’t going to change the fact that there were just an awful lot of people trying to look at the same things we were trying to look at.  The ruins at Angkor are majestic and grand and amazing, especially if you consider people carved them by hand, but the actual experience of looking at them in January 2011?  Sean doesn’t agree with me, but I may have enjoyed our time peacefully riding around Sukhothai more.

We’re used to people trying to sell us stuff overandoverandover, but the vendors at Angkor Wat take it to a whole new level.  At the Taj Mahal, for instance, people hassle you at the door, and with exception of a guy or two suggesting that you should give him some rupees because of his previous suggestion that you might get a nice reflection of Taj if you take a photo right here, you essentially are left alone until you leave.  But at the temples of Angkor, you have to go through the hassling at every single stop you make.  It got to the point where I didn’t want our driver (we rented a tuk-tuk to get around) to stop at any of the minor temples because I just didn’t feel like running the gauntlet of people trying to sell me crap I didn’t want or need.  We subscribe to the philosophy of killing them with kindness, and always kept our cool despite wanting to scream PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE, but nothing stopped the barrage of sales tactics besides getting deep enough into the temple such that the person wouldn’t follow you anymore.  Except then there’d be a little girl, no more than four, coming at you from around the corner, after being sent over by her mother keeping a watchful eye from afar.

It is no secret that the children in Siem Reap are the hardest to resist.  It is one thing to tell an adult no rather brusquely for the tenth time in a row; it is another to do that to a child.  We tried striking up a conversation about something other than the postcards or water or books that they are trying to sell you, but these children are onto to such tactics.  Some, especially the younger ones, could be swayed, especially if you could figure out a question that wasn’t part of their script, but many were determined to stay on track.  You see, they’ve been trained to handle diversionary tactics.  They’ll tell you their name, they’ll count from one to ten in English, they’ll tell you your president is Barack Obama and his daughters are Sasha and Malia, they’ll tell you they learned such facts in school, and they’ll tell you they already are done with school for the day.  And as soon as they finish with their encyclopedic knowledge of your country, they’ll jump right back into their spiel: so, you buy some postcards, mister?  Only ten for a dollar!

One group of little girls followed us for quite a way, well after we tried striking up a conversation and well after we told them firmly that we were not going to buy anything.  There were only two originally, but as we walked towards the bathrooms, two others joined in.  When I came out of the bathroom, Sean was sitting on a bench, waiting for me, while the group of girls stood as far as they were allowed to go, holding out postcards towards Sean, chanting ten postcards for a dollar, ten postcards for a dollar in deadened, flat voices that sounded like zombies.

I was tempted to grab Sean and run away. Enough is enough; we were not going to buy the stupid postcards, no matter how persistent they were. But it breaks my heart to see children reduced to nothing more than salespeople by manipulative adults.  So, I continued chatting with the girls, told them again we weren’t going to buy any postcards, and asked them if they would like to have their picture taken with me, which at least got them to snap out of the zombie act and crack small smiles.  But, of course, seconds after showing the girls their picture on my camera, they were back to ten postcards for a dollar, at least with a little more liveliness this time.

Scenes from Phnom Penh

Phnom Penh: a little charming, a little grungy, a little chaotic, but always interesting. Our favorite part of being in Phnom Penh was dining in the plethora of restaurants and cafes run by NGOs. It would be easy to eat every meal in Phnom Penh at such places; save for a couple of meals, we pretty much did.  And why not?  All of the restaurants we tried had stylish decor and tasty food; the fact that your money goes to a good cause is icing on the cake. We ate at Friends, one of the originals, staffed by former street children and their teachers; Romdeng, started by one of the former waiters at Friends; Cafe Yejj, a cafe employing at-risk women to try to break the cycle of poverty; and Ebony Apsara Cafe & Boutique, where a portion of the proceeds go to re-developing Cambodia’s arts scene.  Yum.

The sun in Cambodia is intense, but every day is bright with blue skies.

We stayed in a guesthouse over a bar run by a Texan ex-pat and his Cambodian wife. Finding a slice of America in Cambodia means you have to take the good (live AFC Championship games, Iron City can spottings, American-style meals) with the bad (Confederate flag displays and Fox News over breakfast).

Also good: the owner's adorable teenage sister who worked the bar after school. She had the biggest dimples and the most outgoing, upbeat personality.

On the Tonle Sap river around sunset

Teens chilling by the river.

Badmitton (in pajamas, no less) by the riverfront.

The bustling Russian market, so named for the abundance of Russian goods available during Vietnamese occupation in the eighties. Thanks to the abundance of clothing factories around Phnom Penh, you can find discounted brand name clothes, even in "big sizes, for westerners." I almost bought a Gap dress but declined the temptation at the last minute. The girls at our guesthouse were amazed we didn't buy anything.

Street barber

Like many of the cities of former Indochina, the city is dotted with French architecture.

Traffic lights? Who needs traffic lights?

A street full of trendy shops, including a chocolatier (with delicious chocolate laced with Kampot pepper)

Inside Romdeng restaurant, housed in a French Villa

Waiting for our food at Ebony Aspara

Fish amok at Ebony Aspara - a curry-like dish that it is Cambodia's most famous

Welcome to Cambodia: Bribes, Propaganda, and a Compliment

Our entry to Cambodia began, unfortunately, like most people’s: with bribes all around. $1 to the man mysteriously taking our temperatures by pointing a laser at our foreheads as part of quarantine measures, $2 to the man giving us our visa, $2 to the man giving us our entry stamp. Protesting at the border is futile; the officials suddenly don’t know any English and would just send you back to Laos (where, incidentally we had just paid $2 extra dollars for the privilege of leaving). As long as the bribes are low enough tourists keep paying them, and it is not like there is anyone official to whom you can complain – the officials ARE the problem.

We had purchased bus tickets back in Laos to take us across the border all the way to Phnom Penh. After going through the border, we had to board a new bus, which, surprise, didn’t remotely resemble the VIP bus we were promised and shown back in Laos. At least we got seats; apparently Cambodians aren’t worried about things like maximum capacity limits for safety, let along comfort, just like Laotians. For the first two hours of the trip, those unlucky enough to board last got to stand in the aisle, and then were provided with tiny plastic chairs for the remaining 10 hours. Why 12 hours on the bus, you ask? Well, that’s a good question, considering the trip was supposed to take only 9 hours. And one that representatives of the Cambodian bus company answered like all others: it is not our problem, we didn’t promise you anything, take it up with whomever sold you the ticket in Laos.

As an added bonus, the bus company apparently felt we all needed to be educated on the United States’ bombing of Cambodia during the Vietnam War. Which would have actually been fine by me – I had been wanting to learn more about this period of history – if our “education” hadn’t consisted of an extremely unbalanced documentary screeching throughout the bus full of Western tourists at top volume less than ten minutes into our entry into the country. An interesting welcome, for sure.

After many hours of sitting next to a surly American boy who generously shared with me that he couldn’t wait to get to Phnom Penh to finally take a hot shower because he hadn’t showered since he got a tattoo back in Vietnam – TMI, for sure, but something I could have guessed from many hours of sitting in close quarters – and listening to my Ipod on top volume to drown out the ever-present Southeast Asian bus soundtrack, I was ready to get off this bus. Just as we thought we were nearing Phnom Penh, we stopped at a rest stop and were told that actually, we still were at least two hours away. Fantastic. I got myself some fruit from a young girl at the rest stop – fruit being a highlight of Cambodia, we would come to find out – and after I paid for the fruit, the fruit vendor told me I was really pretty. I was pretty sure she had to be lying, considering I had started my day at 5:30, which was many, many hours ago at that point, but I had already paid, and she looked sincere. Hmmmm….maybe Cambodia won’t be so bad, after all.

Cambodia, yesterday and today.

Staying longer in Laos that we expected, combined with our desire to be in the biggest cities possible to increase our odds of being able to watch the Steelers in the AFC Championship Game and Super Bowl on television, meant that we ended up giving Cambodia short shrift. We ended up spending only 11 days there, less time than we originally allotted. At first, I didn’t think it would matter much. But, like many people who visit parts of Cambodia other than Siem Reap, Sean and I both developed a fondness for Cambodia and were sad to go.

More so than most of its neighbors, Cambodia is a very rural country and a very poor country. It is impossible not to think of Cambodia’s history while you were there. Some people might think this makes Cambodia a sad place. But we found it to be anything but. Personally, I think Cambodia’s history is much of what makes it so special. A lot of countries have happy, friendly people. A lot of countries have good cuisine. A lot of countries have historical sites. But to have all of these things after what Cambodia’s been through just thirty or so years ago? Putting today’s Cambodia in context with yesterday’s Cambodia can really blow your mind.

The year I was born, 1979, the Vietnamese toppled the Khmer Rouge and ended 4 years of hell for the Cambodian people. That means every.single.person older than me and alive today in Cambodia lived through all or some of the Khmer Rouge’s regime. What was eerie was that we were more likely to encounter people younger than us rather than older. Those that were older have seen things you and I can’t even imagine. On April 17, 1975, after many years of civil war, the Khmer Rouge rolled into Phnom Penh, Cambodia’s biggest city by far and its capital with army tanks. The people of Phnom Penh were heartened by their presence; they were hopeful, believing this new government would alleviate the many problems the countries suffered during its civil war. But although there was no way of knowing at the time, this couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

Instead, the Khmer Rouge turned the clocks back and declared it the Year Zero. The Khmer Rouge was determined to remake Cambodian society into a docile, rural, agrarian one. They rounded up the 2.5 million people living in Phnom Penh, killed certain intellectuals and former government officials right away, and made everyone else march into the countryside. The people still didn’t know what their fate would be. For some, they were taken to places like the Killing Fields, where they were separated from their families, photographed, and killed. For others, they were forced to toil away in the fields, given very little food, and indoctrinated against their old ways of life. Many died of starvation and diseases.

I believe there is no excuse for continued ignorance once you travel, in person, to another country. While we were in Cambodia, we tried to learn as much about its history as we could. Cambodia’s recent history doesn’t begin and end with the Khmer Rouge. There’s many facets: colonization by the French, a civil war, intense bombing by the Americans during the Vietnam War, post-Khmer Rouge control by the Vietnamese, starvation and poverty during the eighties, continued terror from afar by members of the Khmer Rouge hiding out for years, implicit acceptance of the Khmer Rouge’s atrocities by support for a Khmer Rouge backed government in the UN by the United States and other Western countries, more implicit acceptance of the Khmer Rouge’s atrocities by continued delayed trials of the Khmer Rouge and participation in today’s government by former members… It is enough to make your head spin, especially knowing that the United States’ own agenda made it get involved in ways most Americans don’t know or think about.

While we were in Phnom Penh, we visited the sites of the former Killing Fields and Tuol Soung Musuem, otherwise known as S-21, which is a former school turned into a prison by the Khmer Rouge. We watched a video about the rise of the Khmer Rouge in Siem Reap’s night market. (Incidentally, we were the only ones). We tried read up on as much history as we could on-line or in books. Learning in museums and books are important, but often, it doesn’t really sink in until you see a living, breathing reminder. There’s a lot of trees at the Killing Fields, at least where the Khmer Rouge didn’t clear them to make room for mass graves. One of the trees had a sign that said, matter-of-factly, This is the tree against which the Khmer Rouge used to beat children. The starkness and abruptness of that sign stopped me dead in my tracks, but it wasn’t until days later, when I saw a woman holding a baby next to a giant oak tree, and thought about what if that baby had been born thirty-some years ago, that I could feel emotion really well up inside.

We hired a guide to take us around the countryside surrounding Battambang. His name is Philay. In addition to showing us around in his tuk-tuk, he also was kind enough to retell his experience with the Khmer Rouge. He was living in Phnom Penh on April 17, 1975. He told us, matter of factly, that the Khmer Rouge invaded his house and killed his father and brother, because they served in Cambodia’s military. Philay and what was left of his family were forced to march to the countryside like millions of others in Phnom Penh. He worked in the fields for many years, and due to lack of food and hard work under the hot sun, he got very, very sick more than once. His mother and one of his sisters died of starvation in the fields. After the Vietnamese liberated the Cambodian people, like many of the people lucky to still be alive, Philay walked across the entire country to return to Phnom Penh. Philay lived as a refugee on the Thai border for a time, and eventually returned to Cambodia, fought in Cambodian’s army , settled in Battambang, married his wife, and had children. Today, he drives a tuk-tuk around Battambang, a very competitive field, and on some days, he takes visitors like us out to the countryside.

A lot of visitors come to Cambodia just to see Angkor Wat, some of the most majestic ancient ruins in the world. Angkor Wat certainly is amazing, but I enjoyed our time seeing the living, breathing Cambodia of today in Battambang and Kampot much, much more. What was most amazing about Angkor Wat to me is that Angkor Wat is still standing today, despite Cambodia’s tumultuous history.

Cambodia may not be for everyone. It is true that Cambodia can be a little rough around the edges, that it isn’t as clean as Thailand or even Laos, that there are many pairings of creepy older Western men with very young Cambodian women, that there are a lot of poor people begging you for money. It is true that Cambodia has a really, really sad history, and it can be really, really sobering to learn about it. But outside of Siem Reap, a city where desperate people all clamor for the same dollars of the visitors who have so many more than they do, people are friendly just for the sake of being friendly. Tourism is a major industry in a country without many major industries, and is still relatively new, so while people try to make money through tourism all over the country, they also smile and laugh while doing so. Kids yell “Hello” in English and run around blissfully oblivious of yesterday’s horrors. People play quirky games like badmitton, hacky sack, and volleyball in public squares. Men crowd around televisions on the streets to cheer on their favorite boxer. Women, the older ones often dressed in printed pajamas, the younger ones often dressed in jeans, sell goods in lively markets. Good-natured NGOs cook up tasty fish amoks in trendy cafes, even in the smaller towns.

Yes, 11 days was entirely too short.

Paper cranes left at the Killing Fields by Japanese visitors

Flowering trees outside the former Toul Sleng Prison

The site of the former Toul Sleng prison now houses rooms after rooms of photographs of victims of the Khmer Rouge.

What would you look like, if you knew it was your last photograph? Would you look scared?

Would you smile because you were nervous? Or because you always smile for photographs? Or because you are thinking of happier times, far away from where you were?

Then, there's the pictures of the children.

Sean with Philay, our guide to the Battambang countryside

Traffic in Phnom Penh

When we came across this minivan transporting hundreds of chickens, inside and out, in Kampot, we had to stop and gawk.

A sneak preview of the Angkor Wat temples...

Some of the cutest, and certainly the most outgoing, children we came across in Cambodia.