Phnom Penh

Founded in 1372 by a wealthy Khmer Mrs Penh who found 4 buddha images in the river and built a monument to house them at the only hill (Phnom) in the area. The capital moved here from Angkor in the C15th at the fall of the ancient Khmer empire as it was more suited to trade being at the confluence of three rivers: Mekong, Bassac and Tonlé Sap. It was a strange blend of dirty dereliction, busy optimism and depressing history but the longer we stayed the more the place grew on me.

The most impressive building was surely the Royal Palace and Silver Pagoda (although the 5000 solid silver floor tiles had sadly been carpeted over). Still impressive sights remained particularly a plethora of buddhas including a beautiful silver statue and an impressive 90kg golden one with 9548 diamonds – an exact copy of King Noradoms vital statistics.

More buddhas lay in wait at the National Museum of Cambodia in a specially dedicated room with clear instructions to remove shoes and not to touch. A security guard was in place to ensure correct protocol but as we were about to leave he popped out for his sandwiches and in that 2 minute window in marched a local woman who not only kept her shoes on but proceeded to kiss and cuddle all 100 buddhas in an increasingly agitated religious fervour. All rather bizarre.

We couldn’t put it off for ever so the next day we went for the double dose of death and depression with a visit to the Killing Fields (Choeung Ek) followed by the Museum of Genocide (Tuol Sleng). After a 30 minute tuk tuk out of town Choeung Ek could almost have been a peaceful country walk if it hadn’t been for the transparent memorial containing the remains of over 8000 victims of the Pol Pot regime. Sadly this was only the tip of the iceberg as over 2 million Cambodians were murdered or died between the Khmer Rouge takeover in 1975 and their final expulsion by Vietnamese troops in 1979. In other words the population of 7 million dropped by over a quarter in just 4 years. Our guide further added to the gloom by pointing out various human bones within the ground at our feet as well as bits of clothing from the victims. He showed us the tree against which women and children literally had their brains smashed out. They used pick axes for the men as they were heavier and more unwieldy and finished them off with chemicals poured into the mass graves.

Our day didn’t get any better at our next stop Tuol Sleng which was a converted High school that became S21 – the Khmer Rouge’s main torture and interrogation centre. Over 20000 were transported from here to Cheoung Ek but those that didn’t survive the torture were buried in the school grounds. The place was in the main less graphic than the War Remnants museum and the overwhelming sensation was eeriness rather than horror with room after room of a rundown school with the odd bed, bloodstain or artists impression of torture on the walls. A lot was left to the imagination until the last room where there were actual photos of the piles of bones during the human excavations at the Killing Fields. This put everything into grim perspective and I wondered how man could be so cruel to fellow man – particularly ones own countrymen. Compared to the thousands of murders only 7 people were found alive at Tuol Sleng in 1979 and these were mainly sculptors who were kept alive to create endless busts of Pol Pot. In addition 1 person out of 20000+ escaped. A comment in the visitors’ book by a young French girl seemed very apt: It is a lot easier to do something very bad than something very good. All very depressing but in a strange and selfish way heartening that our personal seemingly large problems in life are comparatively very trivial. We should stop whingeing about them and get on with enjoying our life – something that many never had the chance to.

On a more cheerful note we spent the last couple of days enjoying the Boat Racing Festival on Sisowath Quay from our bird’s eye views in the FCC (Foreign Correspondents Club) with delicious cocktails during happy hour for around £1.10 and in the upmarket tapas restaurant overlooking the finishing line. Even here death was never far away with several drowning in one boat due to a lack of safety boats and one of our fellow diners explaining how he was lucky to have been sent away to study in Australia in 1973 just before the Pol Pot era. On his return his father and all six brothers were dead or missing and only his mother remained who is still alive today hence his twice yearly visits from Oz.