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Bound to Happen
7:09 PM
Heading north, we share a taxi to Phnom Penh with seven people. You read that correctly, in a compact four-door car we have four across the back, two in the passenger seat and one driver. It used to be that they would squeeze one more person in beside the driver but that's illegal now so that's good... Technically there isn't supposed to be two in the passenger seat either (duhhhhh), so 50 yards from every police checkpoint, we pull over so that the second passenger seat guy can hop into the back, crouched behind the passenger seat. We have very different definitions of safety. But it wasn't the worst ride we've had and we made it safely so all's well that ends well.
We're not thrilled to be in Phnom Penh. It's not nicest of cities and we met two people in the past week who have had their bags cut right off of them here. One who stated that she was the moron for having too much stuff in her bag because it was inevitable it would be stolen. That doesn't seem like the right mindset. We're warned about taking pictures as guys on motorbikes will whiz past and steal your phone/camera right out of your hands. Awesome, sounds fun. Needless to say, we're on edge and only carry $10, one phone, our room key and Chapstick.
We're here because Tuol Sleng (S21) and The Killing Fields are here, and it's our duty as human beings to educate ourselves on the atrocities of the Khmer Rouge. I read "First They Killed My Father," in preparation for Cambodia and the author's account of the April 1975 forced evacuation of Phnom Penh is brought to life before me. And having been through the extreme heat of April, I'm amazed anyone survived the several day forced march out of the city, although many didn't.
Our hotel is a mere ten minute walk to S21, formerly a school and converted by the Khmer Rouge into one of their most deadly secret interrogation prisons. It's in our neighborhood, looks just like any simple Asian schoolyard, and it's chilling to imagine the sounds of children playing turning into wails of agony that echo through the abandoned neighborhood. The depictions of the torture used on the 20,000 people who died here are truly vile. I will never understand how a human can do these things to another human.
When we get back from S21, Ryan's noodle soup breakfast revealed its lovely gift of food poisoning. Yay! Thanks Cambodia! We head to the market for supplies and the clerk isn't blind to Ryan's sweaty green hue and pulls up a stool for him to rest while I quickly shop. It's not a fun 24 hours but he makes it through, and this is the first real bout of sickness on our travels.
Random observation: all of the laundromats are obsessed with being strong. If not a sumo wrestler with an iron it's Popeye with a can of spinach and an iron.
The bus from Phnom Penh to Battambang is interesting... The video entertainment switches between KTV love songs (karaoke TV) and bizarre love story movies. Let's just agree that KTV is the worst and be done with it. In the movie, this zen master man is beating the new woman who has come to work at his house. He roundhouse kicks her in the face and slaps her around all over the place; she's bruised and bloody and must be really terrible at housework. The bus is roaring with laughter through each of these beatings. Eventually the woman falls ill (versus needing hospitalization for abuse injuries) and the zen master man takes care of her. Then there's maybe thirty minutes of weird tension, barely there glances and voilà they are in love! Happily ever after and something that involved gold armored Knights and a dragon... Don't ask, I have no idea.
Battambang is a cute little town with well intact colonial buildings. In fact, Angelina Jolie was just here using the town as a 1975 Phnom Penh for the movie of "First They Killed My Father." On our fist night out, Ryan spots a Cambodian guy with a Flyers hat on, asks, "where'd you get that hat," and is floored when a straight up North Philly accent answers him. Voe was born in a refugee camp in the Philippines, his brother was born in Thailand, and I can't remember where his sister was born. Point being, his family was one of the many Cambodian refugee families escaping the Khmer Rouge. The US resettled his family to the Badlands of North Philly, making it no surprise that he became involved in gang violence and landed in prison. I had no idea there is a Little Cambodia in Philly. In 1996 the US made an agreement to start sending refugees back starting with the "less desirables," the expulsions began in 2002. Individual consideration of cases for leniency of mental health issues, severity of crimes or familial ties no longer exist. So two years ago, after getting out of prison and reuniting with his family, Voe was deported to Cambodia, a place he's never set foot in, where he doesn't speak or read the language, separated from his family yet again. There are efforts to fight the 1996 Immigration Laws to keep families together, but for now, the deportees we met are rebuilding their lives here and have created a community for themselves.
Now it's my turn to be sick. Yay! Thanks Cambodia! Truthfully, food here is absolute bleh, to the point where eating isn't something we care about and that's saying something. While I'm down and out, Ryan makes friends with the restaurant owners across from our hotel who make amazing western food. They are part of the really strong support community here. Everyone is about pulling yourself up by your bootstraps, teaching/learning new skills and buying locally. It's really nice to see the homegrown sustainable aid working here. We treated ourselves to the Tapas night and among other delicious bites, we had a salad, a really delicious, fresh, flavorful, tons of veggies salad!! Salads do not exist over here and you'd be surprised how much you miss them. It was the best meal in Cambodia yet and the perfect bounce back after I was sick.
We round out Battambang with a motorbike day with new friends and have a list of sites to see. The local hangout lake is first, walking through freshly turned dirt fields to our little bamboo thatch shack. And BOOM, the monsoon is upon us again. This shack provides zero protection and we're all soaked in minutes, so we might as well swim. The lake is warm and the rain is cold and it feels so good. The rain lasts a long while and the trek back through the fields is a messy one. We skip straight to the bat caves to see them go out for their evening meal.
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