“Same-same, but different” is what you will mostly hear while bargaining in Indochina, but for me the quirky phrase is more suitable with Cambodia; Phnom Penh and Siem Reap in particular. Both of these two cities belong to a same fascinating country, but shaped based on two different extremes. One is proud with all of its majestic architectures and supreme history, while another, although booming,  is ashamed of its sinister past. Four days were way too short to really get to know a country, and a bad beginning gave us the bad introduction. However we had our perception slightly changed merely to the kindness and hospitability of the people we met at the end of our trip, and a short jaunt to Angkor healed that wound fast. To be frank I don’t really like Cambodia – too commercialized and too many scams; but perhaps it’s a poor country and people will do anything in the name of survival. In the end I still hope it will not be the last time I step foot in the land of Khmer. Apart from revisiting Angkor, I wish to indulge again on the best meal I ever had there – one last time!

The Royal Palace throne hall in Phnom Penh. The ornate roof reminds me of the Grand Palace in Bangkok, an assimilation perhaps spawned by years of conflict history with Siam (now Thailand). 

Phsar Thmei, widely known as the Central Market, the iconic landmark of Phnom Penh. Orange in color with four arms jutting out from each diagonal direction, makes it hard to miss. 

I spotted the familiar, tiny sour fruits at the market, which I used to pick up fallen from a tree on my way to school during my childhood days. Gooseberries, or buah cermai in Malay which tree is now a rarity in Malaysia.

We went to the Pub street on our second day, the popular hang out place in Siem Reap and the name itself is self-explanatory.

We bought ourselves a postcard from a bookstore and headed to the Temple Pub for its cultural performance. To a cheapskate traveller like us, this is one of the place in Cambodia  that we could enjoy the traditional culture without burning a hole in our pocket! All you need is just buying some drinks and you’ll get to watch the whole spectacle, for free.

The show starts at 7.00pm, but we simply arrived early and picked our spot. By 6.50pm, the musicians entered and took their position, and soon the lilting instrumental of traditional Khmer started to warm up the place. The once empty restaurant was then flocked with audiences and diners as the orchestra burst all-out into an overture. Lovely ladies clad in exquisite traditional Khmer costumes and golden headdress glided daintily into the stage, and began dancing to the rythm. I was utterly hypnotized by their ethereal appearances and graceful movements,  only to be awaken from the spell when they tossed the flower petals from their fingers into the air. There are about 6 to 7 performances altogether; and apart from the ultimate Apsara, they also dance about the Cambodian legends and myth, and the peasants life.

A trip to Siem Reap is not complete without visiting the Old Market or Psar Chas as the local calls it. Psar Chas is the place to go if you are on a hunt for souvenirs and Cambodian handicrafts, as well as local spices and tidbits. Although based on my observation the price is a lot cheaper in Phnom Penh, but that is subject to your haggling skills. From the quiet lanes of colorful trinkets, we drifted to the another section of the market that’s more rich in character, where the locals were found busy with their day-to-day activities.

On our last night at Siem Reap we filled up the time strolling the night market for the last minute shopping. There are actually two night markets in Siem Reap, one is across the river in front of the old market, while another is behind it. These markets are just within minutes walking from our guesthouse.

Stall full with trinkets at the Siem Reap night market.

Kampong Stengmai, Siem Reap

Earlier  we found ourselves at the muslim village not far from the town center, of which we have been frequented for our supply of halal food. Connected through a narrow and dusty path pass some houses, the village is totally hidden from the touristy world outside. 

Muslim kids at Kampong Stengmai, Siem Reap

About 80 families reside in the village, whom all are the minority ethnic Champa. They look strikingly similar like Malaysian Malays, and some of them could even converse and understand malay words, although in thick Kelantanese dialect with the distinctive  nasal tone.  This is related to a fact that some of them had been to Kelantan to study religion. The Champs are actually remnants of ancient kingdom of Champa established circa 7th century, which border lies along the coast of Vietnam. They fled to Cambodia following its defeat to the Vietnamese, whose invasion extended the territory into present day Vietnam. As of today, only a few of the Champs left; the number has shrinked tremendously during the Khmer Rouge  ethnic cleansing ordeal and they are scattered throughout the country. Kampong Cham, where we bypassed on our way from Phnom Penh is the largest muslim Champa settlement that could be found in Cambodia.

Mouth watering Kaw Leng Phnom

Most of the time we had our simple meal at the Cambodian Muslim Restaurant (their chicken rice is recommended!), if not our typical instant food. But on our last night in Siem Reap we simply want to taste something different – a special local dish known as Kaw Leng Phnom, directly translated to Malay as “Daging Lembu naik Bukit” (Beef up a hill - doesn’t it sounds odd?) This sumptous meal could be found at Muslim Family Restaurant next to the mosque, owned by the Siem Reap mufti Hj. Musa. Unfortunately he was out of town when we arrived. We were attended by his adopted brother instead (I forgot his name) who cooked us the meal and entertained us. It is simply sliced beef cooked in butter and some vegetables but the taste is awesome! The meat was tender and juicy with a hint of sweetness from the carrot and the richness of the melting butter. The spicy sauce that accompanying it was marvellous, and the combination went well with hot, steaming rice – in was a blast in our mouth! Not to mention the warm welcome that we received made us feel like we were actually related, instead of just being patrons. We are after all, brothers and sisters in Islam. To Hj. Musa and family, thank you so much for the splendid food and the hospitality.

Kids playing at a river in Siem Reap

From a disturbing affair at Khmer Rouge torture prison and killing filed, a scam in Tonle Sap, enjoying the breathtaking view of the Temples of Angkor to having a delicious meal and meeting wonderful people – all that sum up our 4-day trip in the land of Khmer.  So, if you want to taste a “same-same, but different” experience, I would suggest visiting Cambodia. You would find the experience both intriguing and stressing at the same time.

Day 2 : Phnom Penh – Siem Reap

We started our day early as we will be leaving Phnom Penh to Siem Reap. The bus departs at 7.30am, so while waiting for our pickup to the station we lingered around taking some photos of the nearby morning market.

6.30am in the morning at St. 144, Riverside Phnom Penh. The guesthouse that we stayed is located just a stone throw away from the ever bustling Phsar Kandal.

Some scenes at the market.

I didn’t get to explore much of the market though, as our pickup arrived shortly afterwards. The van stopped at a few locations to fetch other passengers, and then took us to the bus station in front the Central Market for us to board the bus to Siem Reap.

Although Siem Reap is separated from Phnom Penh by a mere 144 miles away, it took nearly 6 hours to arrive at our destination bypassing Cambodia rurals.

The journey was quite straight forward though, with the bus stopped in between nondescript villages and small towns to drop the commuters. The vista are somewhat the same throughout; dry and barren land which dullness accentuated by the hot weather with tiny huts lined along the road, and the folks were inside for the early afternoon siesta. We killed most of the time dozing off; otherwise listening to the MP3 while enjoying the view through the smeared window, or eavesdropping into locals conversation (which was quite loud – more like shouting actualy; as if they were quarelling or something. At times they were a bit annoying, especially when we were intermittently awoken from our slumber).

We finally arrived at Siem Reap around 2.00pm, and as we got off from the bus we found ourselves beseiged by pesky tuktuk drivers. We hurriedly leaved the scene in order to lose them, but one lad followed us faithfully. He introduced himself as Sweet (rather a sweet name for a guy), and  mentioned that this was the only day he got to pick up passengers from the station (they were on monthly rotational basis, hence explained the eagerness).  Since he looks less foxy compared to the other drivers and the fare was reasonable, we agreed with his offer.

We asked Sweet to drop us at Angkor Park Guesthouse right in the heart of the town, and got ourselves a spacious room at only USD9 per night.

Earlier, we had made a deal with Sweet to take us to the Tonle Sap, a fresh water lake that dominates Cambodia. After refreshing ourselves and a quick lunch (some bread and tuna) we headed to Chong Khneas floating village about 15km away, cruising along the inundated watery vegetation plots and blossoming lotus farms.

Upon arriving at the jetty we were surprised to see a newish terminal, and the thought of being ripped off immediately popped up in mind. Actually I did asked Sweet to take us to Mechrey, whereby it is less touristy and commercialized. Unfortunately we started our tour quite late and the village is located further away, so we finally agreed with Sweet suggestion to head to Chong Khneas instead (albeit the numerous pre-empts of its scandalous reputation). 

As we reached the terminal, we were approached by a group of man dressed in khaki uniforms, which I think the jetty operators. It seemed that the terminal was not fully operational yet, and there was no ticket counter in sight. All tickets were to be purchased from them. We were charged an exorbitant fare of USD20 per person (since there’s only two of us, USD15 if you are in a group of more than 3 people), and in exchange we get 2 hours of private tour (which didn’t matter to me). I believed there’s a higher say in the ticket price, and the control are definitely not governmental (they operated under the boat owners association, and I doubt is true). The fare is way too much for such short excursion, more than the price we paid for a full day jaunt in the gulf of Tonkin last year (and that was with meal!). So cunning was their operation that there’s no way we could share the boat, and they were a bit rude too! Seeing me contemplating, they finally reduce the fare (which confirmed our theory that the fare is fixed by them).

“To be, or not to be”, Will whispered in my ears.

“Well, what the heck”, I said to myself. It was fairly absurd to turn our backs now that we were already here. And with that notion we hesistantly chipped out some cash from our thin wallet and handed to one of the men, now smiling. Deviously.

We were ushered to a small boat, manned by a skinny man in mid 30′s and a young chap. Soon we found ourselves cruising the shallow and muddy water of Tonle Sap, bypassing long boats in white and blue. “These are the express boats from the Mekong River in Phnom Penh” the boy told us, in broken English. Taking a boat is another alternative of reaching Siem Reap, despite the normal bus trips.

It was the beginning of dry season in Cambodia, and water level drops tremendously. This in fact relates to Tonle Sap unusual behaviour – the flow changes direction with the change of season. In dry season the water drains into the Mekong River in Phnom Penh, whereas during the monsoon the water reverses its flow and flooded the lake and nearby area with all the sediments and nutrients make it a great fish breeding ground.

During the dry season most of the village folks live on land, as seen by the small wooden huts. They are tiny and portable, and can be moved to drier land when the water level increases.

There was not much to do during the low season, and the locals filled up the time fixing nets and boats to be ready for the next catching trip.

 Fishing is the main source of income at Tonle Sap, and everywhere we could see men with fishing nets.

The water was so low that most fishing activities were done at the riverbanks.

Oopssie…

The boat took us along the waterway for several minutes, until we reach the lake and the floating settlements. 

We stopped by the crocodile farm and a floating restaurant in the middle of the lake, which was the highlight of the tour.  

Traditional fish traps (Malay: Bubu) made of rattan.

 Dried crocodile skins were on display, among other things.

Aerial view of Chong Khneas village from the platform above the restaurant. The place is equipped with school, grocery store and police station. It look much the same with the floating village we saw in Halong Bay, Vietnam. 

 A family paddling by.

While we were enjoying the view I spotted a girl with a snake. She was paddling in a small metal basin with a phyton in one hand, happily shoving it to me. I was bewildered, and quickly snapped a photo of her. And that was before she raised her hand unsmilingly and made a gesture with her index finger – accompanied with a demanding voice: “1 dollar!!!”

When we were about to leave the restaurant I saw a family on boat; the girl playing with a snake while her mother feeds the sibling.  With a shy smile she posed for us, and timidly took the money I offered – only with her mother’s approval. They are really poor people, but yet didn’t ask for money like the others, which made me more than willing to give it to them. I don’t mean to brag, but it just feels good if that small favor could put smiles on their faces.

A boat house.

Our young guide asked whether we want to visit the orphanage and the school, where we could help donate some books and stationeries. We’ve heard about this scam as well, and said that we were uniterested. In reality I honestly want to visit and see the kids, and very much happy to chip in for the books, if it really goes to them. Which I doubt.

Without visiting the orphanage and what’s not, the tour ended shortly than promised. We were too dissappointed with the overall tour that we didn’t even want to argue. I felt a bit sorry for our hosts actually; the boy especially - when seeing his frowning expression we guessed that they also didn’t get their fair share from the jetty operators. And without the scam tour to the orphanage and school, it means that they lose the incentive as well.  At least we were thankful that they didn’t even push us into it.

At the end of our tour they asked for a tip, of which we handed a small not worth mentioning to the boy as a token of appreciation despite the rip-off, and believe that god knows better. What’s important it reached them. Perhaps I was too optimistic when I said this : I’m glad that at least a small losing on our side could mean something to these people. Perhaps I was simply an idiot.

From the horrifying Tuol Sleng we headed to Cheong Ek, 15km southeast Phnom Penh. This is the site (now a memorial) where all the victims of Tuol Sleng being executed by the Khmer Rouge after the gruesome interrogation.

On our way to Cheong Ek. It was just 11.00am, but the temperature here was already hitting 34 degrees celcius.

Green vegetation lined along the dusty and bumpy road, cool to the eyes amidst the hot and dry weather.

After the tiring 30 minutes journey under the unforgiving sun, we finally arrived at the memorial. The place was quiet and there were not so many people around excepts for a bunch of tourists (including us). We got ourselves an entrance tickets and added another USD3 for the audio tour. The audio guide is highly recommended – they are informative and poignant, and the  tour would be less meaningful without them. Apart from detail description of the burial sites and distressing extermination procedures, we learned a great deal about the beginning of the atrocity ruling of the Communist Party of Kampuchea a.k.a the Khmer Rouge and their  ideology, that led to the massacre of nearly half of Cambodia population.

Unfortunately, Cheong Ek was not the only killing field that ever existed in Cambodia; there are many of such place scattered throughout the country (tiny red spots indicate the killing fields while yellow is the marker for the security prisons). Hours after Khmer Rouge seized to power, the civilians were forced to evacuate the cities. People were classified, segregating the peasants and the intelectuals. The latter were asked to identified themselves and were told that they were welcomed to help build the nation. However in reality the Khmer Rouge hidden agenda was to deliberately and systematically destroyed all the potential threats, as well as the racial, religion and social ranks in order to establish a uniform agricultural-based working class. So obsessed the Khmer Rouge with their mission that anyone seen as educated, even those who were wearing glasses or just having a ’smooth hand’ were not being spared. These were the people who’s life ended at the many security prisons and killing fields.

Entering the compound, the path  led us to a lone stupa in a middle of well-groomed lawn, and we stopped at each audio spot for debriefing.

The audio tour took us past the stupa and arrived at the yard with explaination signposts  littering the area. Where we stand is the exact location whereby the ill-fated prisoners were kept pending execution.

Usually, the victims were taken to this site from Tuol Sleng by a truck in the middle of the night; all bound, blind-folded, silent and terrified. They were then made to kneal on the verge of a shallow pit and bludgeoned to death almost immediately one after another (imagine a production line of mass murder). Their lifeless body were then kicked into the hole, piling up over each other.  Chemical substances were poured afterwards to eliminate the stench, and to ensure that nobody survives the attack. As Khmer Rouge grew more paranoid each day, the number of prisoners increasing tremendously and unable to be executed at once. They were then detained in a dark cell while waiting to be killed the next day. Most of the buildings in the area, including the detention cells have been torn down by raged citizens when the place was discovered after the fall of the Polpot regime.

Tourists listened intently to the audio under the shades of some wiggling tree in the compound of the memorial. Some of them shed a silent tears.

As ammunition was expensive and the victims too many, crude weapons were used to beat the innocent to death as to save precious bullets.

 With the headphone still stuck to our ears, we treaded lightly over the grass to the excavated burial sites.

We were delivered to the first mass grave of 450 victims, the largest ever found.

A recent downpour filled up the cavity of the makeshift grave, leaving a muddy puddle. A shelter was built encompasing the area to avoid further exposure of what buried underneath.

Out of 129 identified mass graves, only 43 have been excavated while the rest remain buried. Fragments of the victims such as bones and clothing often resurface from these untouched sites especially after heavy rain. 

A tooth found lying under dry leaves and dead twigs.

The place was once an orchard and a Chinese cemetary before Khmer Rouge took over the land and turned it into a killing zone. Some of the gravestones could still be seen.  

We walked uncomfortably from one grave site to another despite the serene surrounding, realizing that we were actually traversing the same footpath of the doomed prisoners. We finally came to a grave by a tree where hundred of children and women were slaughtered. No life was spared at Cheong Ek; even the harmless kids and babies perished by Khmer Rouge rampage madness. It is no surprise as Polpot’s favourite slogans run something like these : 

“To dig up a grass one must remove even the root” and;

“Better to kill an innocent by mistake, rather than spare an enemy by mistake”

Colorful ribbons and wristbands were tied to the fences barricading the area;  an offering and prayers to those innocent souls. May they rest in peace.

As children and babies were too small to handle, they were usually smashed to death against this very tree. Bones and human tissues were found stuck on the bark and scattered on the grass when the place was discovered in 1980.

It was a peaceful place, the memorial; and it is hard to imagine that such tragedy had befallen here. The grass were green and well-kept, the birds chirping happily and occassionally you could spot butterflies fluttering around. Pieces of victims clothing and broken bones that crop out from the earth were the only reminder of its horror past.

A tourist seen corresponding with village kids, separated by the gate of the killing fields. Perhaps she was trying to see the whole thing from a local perspectives.

 This is the tree where they hung a loud speaker with  revolutionary songs blaring at full blast as to drown out the screams of the victims.

 We ended up back at the stupa at the end of our audio tour, and solemnly entered the building.

Enclosed inside the claustrophobic stupa are the skull of the victims found during the excavation. They were stack in tiers, 17 levels altogether and arranged based on age and gender. Most of them were broken, a result of the deathly blow.

 Cloths of the victims were kept on the lowest tier as keepsake.

I threw one last look at the stupa as we walked out of the compound at the end of our tour, trying to comprehend the incomprehensible. The visit to Cheong Ek completes our harrowing journey of Cambodia pasts, but yet something did not feel right. This tour was not right. Deep down inside I’ve this heavy feeling that the victims were still injustified; perhaps no more by the Khmer Rouge, but by commercialization of their pain and death. Revenues are being generated each day by manipulating people sympathies. On a brighter side the site provides an insight to those who seek to understand the enormity of the Cambodian history. However based on my humble opinion, I honestly think that these people deserves proper burials instead of being displayed like props and to be gawked by passing tourists. Pictures I presume, should be enough.

Day 1 : Phnom Penh

We settled with our accomodation and were allowed early check-in,  and soon found ourselves on the road to our first destination in Cambodia; the notorious Tuol Sleng. Earlier we had a deal with the tuk tuk driver to charter his service for one day at USD15.

We cruised along the Sisowath Quay on our way to Tuol Sleng detention center, now museum in central Phnom Penh.

From the hustle and bustle of the city, we arrived to a quite and desolate housing area 10 minutes later. The place did not indicate anything like a tourist spot, except for a row of parked red tuk-tuks. Seeing us in complete lost, our tuk-tuk driver pointed us the direction. We obediently followed his course without knowing what to expect.

At the end of the street, stand gloomily a worn-out building  with the name reflected on the gate. True, we have arrived at the right place. The first feeling that hit us: it doesn’t look anything like a museum at all, at least not your typical museum. But the fact is, it is not typical, and not recommended for the faint hearted. Aware of its dark past, we held our breath, braved ourselves and entered the compound.

Codenamed by Khmer Rouge as Security Prison 21 (S-21), the site comprises of four major blocks of alphabetical order. The complex was actually an ordinary school converted into detention and interogation center by the infamous communist regime in August 1975, four months after the country’s coup d’etat. An estimate of 20,000 people have been brought to the prison during the 4 years of the regime genocidal rule; they were mostly civil servants, soldiers, academics and professionals identified as a potential threat to the party and their ideology. All these people and their families eventually met their horrible fate - repeatedly and brutally tortured at the hand of the regimes, mostly just for a piece of fabricated information or confession before being sent to Cheoung Ek Commune, 12km outskirt the city to be executed.

All the prisoners that were brought to the camp was made known of these ten crazy rules. 

We entered the first block with a certain level of apprehension, and these were the things we saw. There, in the middle of an empty used-to-be classroom, a bare structure of a rusty metal bedframe stood in silence. Scattered on the bedframe is the iron shackle that was used to chain the victim, next to an army ammunition box served as the prisoner’s latrine. Hung against the wall was an engrossed photo of the same room and the very same items - with heavily multilated human body being chained to the bed, photographed by a local photographer exactly as he first found it 30 years ago. The guards, upon Khmer Rouge surrender to the invading Vietnamese army, fled the scene  and left the corpses behind.

We checked out one room to another, and the same arrangements were found – an empty space illuminated only by the curtainless window, a rusty  bedframe on a blood-stained checkered floor, the ammo-converted-latrine box, iron shackles, a torn pillow and a ghastly photo of the last soul that ever slept in it. It was dimmed and cold inside; the grim ambience sort of telling us the horror truth the place behold.

We traipsed the quiet corridor of Block A, trying to figure out how it was like during the evil days. None of us in the mood of talking. With my hands on the cold wall, I closed my eyes and was transported back in time. I know it was only happening in my mind, but through it I saw a very thin and weak man being dragged by two heartless young guards – too young actually – and his chained feet made an irritating clanking noise everytime it came in contact with the floor. Blood was dripping from his broken face, and his eyes wept a tearless cries. His weak cry of agony was muted by the loud sounds of revolutionary songs playing at the back, which volume intesified by the nearby loud-speaker. I felt somebody touched me on the shoulder, and immediately awaken of my daydream. It was DH, and he gestured for us to leave.

All the rooms were empty at the third floor,  except for a waned green chalkboard. An obscure writing in French was still visible though; perhaps the last lesson the school ever taught.

 Unlatched wooden door, tied with a wire leaving a small opening for a peek inside the room.

 Courtyard of graves, of the last victims found on the spot, when Vietnamese army discovered the place in 1979.

A visitor  deeply preoccupied with the excerpt written on the information signage. Not a single thing in the school compound was under utilized. Prisoners were hung upside down from a once gymnastic bar, with their heads totally submerged in the fetid water down below. Almost drown, they were uplifted but only to be dunked again repetitiously until they provide the info or became totally unconcious.  

We moved to Block C;  it was enclosed with a mesh of barbed wires as to prevent escapes and suicide attempts by the fellow inmates.

Unlike the detention room in Block A, the rooms here were divided into several unit cells, tiny enough to fit one person.

 The detainee was chained to the floor, and equipped only with the metal ammo-box for feces.

 Gaps were drilled on the walls, which later served as doors.

 Cell numbers written on the wall to indicate occupying prisoner still visible to this date.

 A grilled opening that symbolicly divides the dark past and the bright future.

Shackles attached to a long piece of iron bar, used to chained a number of inmates on display at Block D, together with other instruments of torture.

Memorabilia of a young victim, whose fate unknown. 

Perhaps this was how she met her fate, as shown by the heart-wrenching illustration in Block B. Life was treated like it has no value at all. As if the killing was not bad enough, they have to do it with ultimate savage.

Photos of the young victims line the wall in Block B. Who would in their right mind harm these helpless and innocent children? 

Some of the family members of the prisoners especially the kids were taken to do hard labour and grew the food. The last boy in the photo was about my beloved son’s age.  I’m a mother, and I bet no mother in this world could have endured looking into all these disturbing images.

Out of the 20,000 people brought to the camp, only 7 survived the ordeals and able to tell the tale. They were spared due to certain skillset that they possessed which the regime thought to be useful. Everybody else was murdered, including all the kids in the photo above. Reason is simple; Khmer Rouge would not risk these young kids turn into rebels and revenge once they grow up. With this notion, a faint stream of tears trickling down my face.

 Barbed wires surrounding the compound.

Mugshots of the S-21 guards. Some of them were recruited at a very young age, brainwashed to the communism radical ideology. Like the prisoners, they were to abide by strict rules, of which failure to comply might lead them the fate of the prisoners themselves. Fear has its own devise ; to kill or be killed. People would do anything in the name of survival, and  hardships can hardened a man’s heart. When that happen, it is difficult for a person to distinguish the right and the wrong.

Polpot and Duch, the two main person behind the torture and the killings, whose hands covered in blood of over thousands of people. Prior to the Khmer Rouge rise in power they were respected school teachers. The world has a mystery of its own, and how these two men with such noble profession ended up a psychotic, cold-blooded mass murderer is indeed a mystery I could not fathom.