Skyscrapers and Skytrains

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Skyscrapers over Lumpini Park, Bangkok


So, Thailand, eh! When we sat in an ice cream parlour in Ho Chi Minh City and frantically worked out our South East Asia schedule on a paper napkin, we weren’t sure if we’d have time to make it here before heading home. But here we are!

Due to the shortage of time (yes, five months is not enough!), we’ve rushed around a bit since getting here, spending a quick day in Bangkok before taking the night train to Chiang Mai and another night train back again. As well as seeing the sights, we’ve been able to meet up again with the lovely Mr Michael Carroll and catch up over Pad Thai, desserts and Geocaches.

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The two of us with Mike. No sunset this time! Not sure why we didn't get someone to take a photo of all three of us.


Bangkok is a whirlwind of a modern city, especially compared to elsewhere we’ve been in Asia. Its skyline of glowing skyscrapers and light railway in the form of the ‘Skytrain’ firmly marks the city as the most modern-feeling place we’ve been since Beijing. It’s interesting to see how the traditions of old nestle with the structures of new, with the spires of gleaming golden wats jostling for space alongside the reflective glass of the latest new towering office block. It does seem to just about work, with the old and the new coexisting together. Fantastically, even the Skytrain has spaces marked ‘Please offer this seat to monks’, alongside the more recognisable icons for the elderly and pregnant.
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Monk seats, oh yes!


Alongside the glass and air-conditioned elevated trains, the other thing that really comes across is just quite how wealthy Bangkok is – or at least the parts we visited. Elsewhere in South East Asia, we were impressed by the golden decoration of the Wats, but here it is truly dazzling, huge sculptures shimmering with fresh gold leaf and gold paint that make you realise how central to society religion is here when compared to the quiet decay facing some buildings of worship back home. We visited the Grand Palace, an absolute spectacle of towers and ornate buildings, even with its own large model of Angkor Wat. We also popped in to see South East Asia’s largest reclining Buddha, an enormous golden sculpture that’s so big you can’t fit it in one photo when inside its pillared building. Laura tells me she and Patrick did somehow nearly miss it last time – I can only assume it has since grown in size due to all the layers of gold paint!
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The largest reclining Buddha in SE Asia


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At the grand palace


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Kazoos at the Grand Palace. I blame Laura!


Bangkok is also home to the hellhole of Khao San Road, a tourist Mecca where the only religion seems to be drinking western beer and watching premier league sports in the western bars (and sadly not even Wild West ones at that, which would at least be entertaining). There were even hoards of topless guys lazing around in the sunshine – we kept wanting to remind them there’s no
beach here! Fortunately, we just passed through to find some Geocaches, and were able to retreat to our fantastic and cheap hostel in the more authentic Wong Wian Yai area. It’s strange to think that only a couple of months ago, much of the city was underwater from the flooding – there’s very little evidence of this around, save some piles of sandbags surrounded by offerings apparently as a sort of shrine.

Mike took us to see one of his favourite spots in the city, the refreshingly calm Lumpini Park. Although there was a disappointing lack of ice cream sellers, it has two gorgeous lakes in the middle, and amid the joggers and pedalos, the park is home to a collection of monitor lizards. I’m glad we’d been warned in advance, because they look scarily like crocodiles, and are absolutely huge, some of them 1.5m in length – and roaming free! We’re assured that they don’t eat humans, but I wouldn’t have liked to be around after it got cool enough for them to leave the confines of the lake.

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Monsters of the deep at Lumpini Park


In contrast to Bangkok, Chiang Mai is a different beast entirely – perhaps a colourful butterfly to the capital’s ferocious reptile. The old city is surrounded by a crumbling former wall and a fountain-filled moat, and the streets are alive with markets and colourful wats instead of noisy traffic.
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Naga at a Chiang Mai wat


A walk through town brought us to more wats than I thought was possible (I’m going to refrain from the inevitable jokes about power, Killer Wats, etc). One of them
was hosting a temporary exhibit – a sacred Buddha Tooth Relic. There are quite a few Buddhas, and they had quite a few teeth, so we’ve seen a couple of these over the course of our travels – but this was certainly the most highly venerated, with the wat set up to receive crowds of visitors and a hall of monks sitting by the relic itself. The security was also surprisingly high – armed guards outside and various police and army trucks around. It was then that we realised we’d got there just as a VIP and her entourage were being shown around. Like politicians in the west do with babies, she dashed in for a quick photo call with the relic, and then headed out on parade around the grounds. We watched from a distance while her armed guards eyed us suspiciously – we still have no idea who she was.
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The VIP and entourage


Every time Chiang Mai has come up while we’ve been planning our trip, Laura has danced round and round chanting the magical words ‘Night Market! Night Market!’, and so predictably we spent our first evening engaging in the dark arts of shopping and haggling on a ‘walking street’, which turned out to be some 5km of stalls, with the courtyard of almost every wat along the way converted into a food court. Unfortunately Laura’s trendsetting style came back to bite her, as they didn’t quite have the range she remembers from last time – but needless to say, we didn’t leave empty handed!

Chiang Mai is the place to do a cookery course in Thailand, and after our successes in India and Cambodia, and our love of the local food, we had to go for it. We had a very successful (and filling) day differentiating our Drunken Noodles from our Pad Thais and Jungle Curries from Massamuns, and they even taught us how to flash the hot oil on fire for show – although I’m not quite sure it will work indoors! Look out for Laura and Simon’s culinary treats on our return.

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Flames at the cookery class


We were hoping to go elephant trekking on our final day, but somewhat short on time, we were unable to find somewhere recognised as caring properly for their animals that fitted with our schedule – and so we turned to culture instead. Doi Suthep is a fabulous (golden, glittering, ornate, etc) wat up on the hilltop overlooking the city, affording wonderful views and perhaps more memorably for us, the image of an elderly monk dressed in orange sitting on a bench chatting away on his mobile phone. After a lovely morning up there, we popped into the City Museum for a taste of the history of the town – and that’s where it got a little more odd.
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The two of us at Doi Suthap


Although it was fairly modern and expensive in appearance, the museum’s exhibits were showing their age – and you were left wondering whether it had properly come together when it was first created, or if it had been a bit of a rush job and then everyone had headed off to the next project. Almost every exhibit had multilingual audio commentary at the touch of a button – not on headsets, but played booming from loudspeakers in the ceiling. The problem was that this commentary was way too long – perhaps five minutes for each piece, and read by an American narrator who clearly only had the text in front of him for the first time at the moment it was being recorded. As you went round and more audio started up, it overlapped with what was still playing from the previous exhibit, until there were lots of clones of the same bored man droning on over each other. I think at one point we could hear four different explanations at once. And then something really funny happened – he turned from anonymous narrator into a human. In one of the tracks, you heard him slow down and pause as he approached a difficult piece of pronunciation. In another, he coughed and cleared his throat. In a third, he actually stopped, and said “Oh, sorry. I thought that was the end. Shall I carry reading on from here?”, before continuing. We looked for him between the cracks in the ceiling but assured ourselves he was actually just on tape and they’d never bothered or realised it needed editing. From
that moment on, we could see through the polish to the poorly presented museum underneath.

We sat down to watch a subtitled film, only for the video compression to be far too high to be able to make out the words on the screen, a mangle of digital blocks where the letters should have been. We played guess-the illegible-words for a while. The final straw that sent us into a giggling mess was an interactive computer exhibition on the King. It was simple and childish really, but it’s amazing what a typo can do to your sense of reason when already on the edge. One clicked on each event in the King’s life, and then clicked a button to return to the prior page. Except instead of ‘prev’, the typo said “perv”, and the way it was positioned, it seemed like we were being forced to accept this label in judgement on the facts about the monarchy presented on the screen. We burst out laughing. In a country where the King is very highly revered, was our sense of humour an act of treason? Giggling, we didn’t wait to find out and left swiftly – but it was certainly the most entertainment we’ve had in a museum for a while!

Simon

The treasures of Angkor

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Dawn at Angkor Wat

We’d been warned by many that Siem Reap is a bit of a tourist trap. It’s home to the temples of Angkor Wat (and many others), making it a must see on pretty much any itinerary. Fortunately though, the place is pretty spread out, and beyond the confines of the backpacker/bar area around ‘pub street’, we found a nice quiet guest house (‘Sweet Dreams’), and some lovely riverside walks around the town. Being further north, you can immediately appreciate the drop-off in humidity, making the climate pleasantly warm without being sweaty all the time. A lovely relief!

As part of the tourist thoroughfare, the town is home to ‘The National Museum of Angkor’, which was the most modern (and most expensive, at $12 each) museum we’ve been to since starting. Housed in a huge complex, it seemed more like a Roman villa, with bright white walls, open courtyards and spiralling staircases – as well as pools of blue water here and there. If it wasn’t for the sunshine in January and the lack of a sulphurous smell, I’d have thought we could have been at a renovated version of the Roman Spa in Bath!

The museum itself gave us the lowdown on the history of the state of Angkor, as well as the religion and symbolism behind the temples themselves. It was fantastically modern – like a new wing of the science museum in London, with multimedia displays and videos alongside rooms full of artefacts bathed in bright spotlights. The only bad thing to say about it is that unlike many of the museums we’ve been to, it was quite clearly for the international tourist – its price alone (even with a substantial reduction for locals) apparently enough to ensure that the very people these temples were built for were absent from their own ‘National Museum’. Or maybe they all went last week instead!

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Stone Carving at Angkor Wat

Other than the subject or streams of superlatives, and famous silhouettes, I confess that I didn’t really know what Angkor Wat was until we’d visited. It is by itself the largest religious complex in the world, originally Hindu and now Buddhist, with decorative stone carvings to reflect the change in affections over the years. The place itself is huge – with a 190 metre moat, and is one of a set of temples, former cities and other structures that fill mile after mile of the countryside north of the town. It’s all pretty impressive!

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The 400m carved mural around the inner sanctum of Angkor Wat

Angkor Wat itself is famed for its sunrises, with the red dawn forming directly over the black outline of the central towers of the temple in a perfect photographic moment. And who are we to pass up such an opportunity for luminescent beauty, even if it is at the ungodly hour of 6am?

Having booked a rickshaw the previous day to take us round the temples, we rose at 5 ready for our 5:15 pickup. When it hit 5:30 and the driver still hadn’t arrived, we began to get worried. Some of the staff at the guesthouse were up, and we were asked who we were waiting for. I drew a blank. Ben? Ned? Mic? Fortunately, Laura came through with ‘Mab’, although the response wasn’t immediately helpful. “Ah, he went party last night, drink too much, he no drive”. Right! We got up for this?! And this, we discovered, is why the guesthouse gets good reviews – yes, it may be that their receptionist/driver who gladly accepted our booking last night is now still drunk in bed, but they leapt into action to resolve the problem. The manager appeared, with his usual “Hello Simon” greeting (a greeting he used with either of us interchangeably while we were there!), and looked slightly panic stricken when we said we were up to see the sunrise over Angkor Wat. The sky was already beginning to get light. Five minutes later, they’d found and woken a replacement, hooked up a cart behind a motorbike, and we were off – and we made it! Hats off to the ‘Sweet Dreams’ guesthouse and, appropriately, sweet dreams to our original driver!

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The obligatory kazoo photo

We were far from the only people there to witness the pink spectacle of dawn, but it was impressive nonetheless, as the varied shades of pink, blue and yellow filled the expanse of sky above us. As the light got better, we wandered around the complex and having bought the destined-for-a-future-coffee-table glossy book on Angkor Wat (my parents will be proud, especially since it only cost $5), spent some time admiring the 400m stone carved mural that surrounds the inner temple. We learnt a lot about the Hindu tale of ‘The Churning of the Sea of Milk’, the carving very detailed and understandable with the help of the book.

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Vishnu on his turtle at the centre of the churning of the sea of milk

Angkor Thom is a former city, long since abandoned, but once home to some one million people at a time when London numbered only 50,000. Most memorable was the Bayon, where numerous huge stone faces stare down at you from the pillars forming the temple mound, like Gods with eyes following you as you dive in and out of the maze of passageways below. We managed to find a Geocache on the way round too!

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The Bayon at Angkor Thom. Spot the faces in the stone

By 11am, we were suffering from Temple fatigue (we had been at it for 5 hours by this point!), and it was with some relief that we made our final stop – Ta Phrom, or as everyone seems to call it, the ‘Tomb Raider Temple’. Like many of these sites, it was overrun by jungle when rediscovered in 20th Century, but a decision was made to stabilise the structure and then keep it in this state for visitors to see a ‘jungle temple’. Perhaps someone knew there was a Lara Croft film waiting to be made? Although we were expecting something altogether more green and overrun, it was a real spectacle with gigantic trees growing in, on, and through the ruins, their huge roots clutching the stone like tentacles from some giant monster from the deep. I think the picture below does it justice. There’s certainly no need for the fiction of Hollywood to make this come alive.

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Tentacles at Ta Phrom



For our final day in Cambodia, we went on a cookery class to better appreciate the cuisine and hopefully learn some skills to use back home. Laura’s got the lowdown on the food, but suffice to say it was great, and we were stuffed by the end of it (although fortunately cannibalism is off the menu!).
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Two chefs trained and ready!


We took a long bus journey across the border to Bangkok, which despite being infamous for scams going in the opposite direction, was surprisingly easy, if slightly enduring. There were coloured stickers and even numbers to keep us in order, a long queue to leave Cambodia while everyone was fingerprinted (when leaving the country, which is slightly beyond me), and even some tasty cheddar and salami baguettes thanks to some good planning on our part.
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The Cambodia/Thailand border

It’s strange to be saying goodbye to Cambodia so soon – although we’ve spent a few weeks here, we only really stopped in three different places thanks to Christmas, and it feels like we’ve just scratched the surface. It’s an interesting country on the way up after the horrors of the Khmer Rouge, but one which is still finding its feet in many respects – the lack of economic power is evident by the use of the dollar absolutely everywhere, with even the cash machines doling out american bills; the country ranks pretty poorly in the global corruption indexes and this has got worse in recent years; and the posters asking people to be vigilant to foreign pedophiles really underline how tourism can bring terrible negatives. In spite of this, it’s a place we found hugely warm and welcoming – with promise of plenty more treasures left undiscovered for a future adventure.

Simon

Food for thought part five – Cambodia

On our last day in Cambodia, Simon and I embarked on a quest to learn more about Cambodian cuisine and enrolled ourselves on a cooking course at Le Tigre de Papiere in Siem Reap. After a trip round the market familiarising ourselves with some of the ingredients we donned our chefs hats and aprons, and knife in hand began to discover the hidden secrets of some of the Khmer dishes that we’ve enjoyed over the past few weeks…

Amok
Probably the best known Khmer dish, Amok is a coconut curry flavoured with lemon grass, ginger, turmeric and chilli, the meat of your choice (most commonly fish), shredded vegetables such as Chinese broccoli, cabbage, onion -and in the case of our cooking class even oyster mushrooms. Traditionally Amok is served in a banana leaf bowl with a side of puns from Simon about “running Amok”.

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Monkfish Amok, made by Laura

Lok lak
Lok lak is another popular Khmer dish, comprising beef, pork or chicken marinated and stir fried in a peppery tomato sauce, served on a bed of salad.

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Lok Lak, made by Simon

Saraman Kari
This curry differs from most others in South East Asia as the predominant flavour is peanut rather than coconut, this delicious curry also tends to come up a bit thicker than most.
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Kep crab
Whilst in Kep why not find yourself a platform strung with hammocks and relax, taking in the fresh sea air and ocean view whilst waiting for your blue peppered crab to be cooked? The fresh crab is cooked in a flavoursome sauce with spring onions, pak choi and fresh green Kampot peppercorns. A tasty seaside treat, but hard-earned as you struggle to prise the meat from the shells, evolution certainly did a good job with the crab!

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Peppercorns. Sorry, we were too busy trying to break open the crab to take photos!

A few surprises…
Whilst in Kampot we considered it our duty to visit as many dining establishments in town as possible and to my surprise discovered both the best ribs and the best scones I’ve ever eaten! The pork ribs served up by the Rusty Keyhole are absolutely huge!! You only get 3 ribs in a ‘half rack’ portion but they are the meatiest, best cooked three ribs you’ll ever eat, smothered in the Rusty Keyhole’s own barbecue sauce. The second surprise was the scones produced by Epic Arts, big, freshly cooked (served still warm), with the perfect soft yet slightly crumbling texture and served with delicious homemade jam. My only regret is that I didn’t manage a second one!


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Amazing ribs from the Rusty Keyhole. As you can see, we couldn't wait to get started!

Fruit shakes
Fruits shakes feature on most menus in both Laos and Cambodia. These delicious fruit “shakes” are essentially fruit smoothies with fresh fruit of your choice blended together with either coconut milk (my preference), regular milk or yoghurt and ice. A refreshing way to recharge after a day of sightseeing.

Pineapple palm wine
Pineapple palm wine (8%) tastes pretty much as you might expect, like alcoholic pineapple juice. It’s easy to drink and definitely worth a try whilst you’re in Cambodia. Palm wine is produced by fermenting the sap collected from palm trees, the pineapple variety is presumably made by adding pineapple juice to the palm sap.

Cambodia has definitely supplied more mouthwatering South East Asian delights, next stop Tom Yam and Thai curry!

Laura

How to heat a Christmas pudding with absolutely no cooking equipment

1. Buy some Brie to make tasty sandwiches for a long bus journey (if you buy a baguette you can cut costs and make it last for two meals). Surprisingly the Brie is packaged in a tin, keep the tin as it may prove useful.
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2. Visit post restante at Phnom Penh post office and collect Christmas goodies sent from home.
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3. Open up package from parents and delightedly unwrap a Tesco finest Christmas pudding!
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4. Buy a brandy minature from your local shop (may cost more than you’d expect).
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5. Ask your guesthouse for a plate, a spoon and some ice (ice to cool the pineapple palm wine you bought). As an unexpected bonus the guesthouse provides you with a bucket of ice plus tongs.

6. Clear a good space on the tiled guest room floor, making sure all flammable materials are at a safe distance. Then light a tea light.

7. Remove pudding from packaging and place in empty Brie tin. Using tongs hold the tin over the flame. After a few minutes turn pudding to heat the other side.
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8. Turn pudding out onto plate and douse with brandy.
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9. Heat some brandy in the improvised “pan”, pour into metal spoon and set alight.

10. Pour flaming brandy over the pudding whilst singing “we wish you a merry Christmas…”
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11. Enjoy the fruits of your labour, remember the proof is in the pudding!

Laura

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

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The school buildings at S21

We visited a school yesterday. Its design reminded me of a Lycée I spent a day at many years ago in Paris, with multi-story blocks surrounding an open courtyard, and a chequered tile floor. This one sounded different though.

Schoolyards are meant to echo with the sounds of children playing, the shrieks of delight and footballs skidding around – but there was silence. The tattered blackboards were chalked with rules that preached total submission to those in charge. From the gym equipment in the yard hung a series of metal loops used for torture. And there were 14 anonymous graves in the ground outside one of the former classrooms. We were here to witness the remnants of the horrors of the three year, eight month and 20 day rule of the Khmer Rouge. It was probably the most heartbreakingly shocking thing I have ever seen.

Reading Jung Chang’s amazing book Wild Swans had given me a sense of the utter brutalistic lunacy of China under Mao, with his attempt to violently force everyone into the working class, turning man against man through successive purges and by fomenting chaos in the belief that only through repeated revolution could there be radical change. Pol Pot followed these beliefs fervently, but apparently sought even more rapid and forceful upheaval. The school we visited was S21, one of many prisons set up to interrogate and torture those who disagreed, or who in many cases were just caught up in the maelstrom of revolution and suspicion.

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Blackboard in a former classroom converted to a cell


Over the course of just under four years of rule, between one and three million people were killed, either executed en mass using farm tools (bullets were too expensive) like the 17,000 who passed through S21, or starved to death in the fields working from four in the morning until ten at night with only a few grains of rice to eat each day. Even by the most conservative estimate, that’s one death for every two minutes they were in power. In all, it’s believed that around 1/4 of the Cambodian population died under the Khmer Rouge.

The sheer psychotic madness of their beliefs is preserved in the slogans of the revolution. Most aptly for our venue, one was “Study is not important. What’s important is Work and Revolution”. In line with this, all schools and universities were closed, many to become prison camps. The same happened to many prisons, and the entire urban population was moved to the countryside to do hard labour and learn from the peasants, Mao’s equivalent of intellectual role models. As an indication of how rapidly this happened, it took just 3 days for the entire population of Phnom Penh to be evicted – some 2.5 million people.

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Classrooms knocked together with cells inside


Walking round, two things really brought the reality home for me. The first was how much the building was so evidently a colonial era school that had been crudely and swiftly brutalised into a prison. The masonry walls between classrooms had been punctured by primitive sledgehammer doorways, and the classrooms divided by rough brickwork into lines of tiny cells, each just big enough for an individual to lie down. The window openings in the open air corridors had been wrapped in barbed wire to prevent desperate prisoners from escaping by committing suicide. Many of the rooms still had their contents, rusting iron beds and shackles; an interrogator’s wooden chair; an ammunition box which was used for excrement. There were photos and paintings showing what it had been like. And running through all of this was the distinct, chilling reminder that this had all happened right where we stood – on the dusty, dirty yellow and white chequered schoolroom tiles beneath our feet.
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Barbed wire to prevent desperate prisoners from committing suicide

The other thing that will stay with me were the faces staring out from the thousands of mugshot photographs. Each detainee was photographed on arrival, and of the 17,000 recorded in the files, only around 140 ever made it out alive.

In the afternoon, we went to Choeung Ek, the ‘killing fields’ where those from S21 were executed and buried in mass graves. A thought provoking audio tour gave plenty of opportunity for quiet reflection as we walked around the grave mounds and memorial stupa, where the victims’ bones are now kept. The barbarism of the regime meant that in many cases entire families were exterminated, including babies, following Pol Pot’s mantra that “to dig up the grass, one must remove even the roots.”

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The sign speaks for itself


Poignantly, where indescribable horrors once occurred there is now an abundance of butterflies hovering between the greenery, their fluttering wings bringing colour – and life – to the grey piles of skulls of the past.

As you sit there in the shade by the brown shimmering lake, next to the gleaming green rice paddies and alongside the gold-topped memorial, you have to ask yourself how such atrocities can happen – and indeed can continue to happen. The Khmer Rouge’s massacres happened only just before I was born, continuing a chain that includes Nazi Germany and more recently Iraq, Serbia, Rwanda – and Palestine, Lebanon, Sri Lanka and perhaps even right now, in Syria.

I think my normal answer would be to say this is why we need to strengthen and have faith in international structures like the UN, which can use democracy and international law to bear on those who commit such acts. However, I must say that my faith was left severely lacking by how justice has played out after the Khmer Rouge were routed, illustrating how the very strength of geopolitics is also its undoing. As I understand it, the problem was that it was the Vietnamese that defeated the Khmer Rouge, forcing Pol Pot & co to flee to the border with Thailand and a new government to take over and pick up the pieces. With the geopolitics of the cold war in full swing, few were happy to side with communist Vietnam, and so instead China, Thailand, the US and even the UK supported Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge government in exile, channelling them aid money and even continuing to recognise the Khmer Rouge as Cambodia’s official government internationally in the UN. It was only in the mid 1990s that things started to change for the better with recognition that the Khmer Rouge was still seeking violence, and only in 2003 that four of its former leaders were put on trial, the hearing eventually starting in July 2006. The sad reality is that many of the perpetrators will never face justice due to old age – Pol Pot himself died in 1998, and many more have ingratiated themselves with the new regime. The one trial to have concluded so far – that of ‘Comrade Duch’ who ran S21 – resulted in him receiving a sentence of 35 years, which when time is taken off for his incarceration while awaiting trial is equivalent to 11 hours and 30 minutes for each execution under his command.

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Memorial Stupa at the Killing Fields


As we sit here on our sweaty bus out of Phnom Penh to adventures new, I can’t help but hear the voice of one of the survivors echoing in my mind. He was pleading for those who visited to take away from the horrors a greater understanding of how such genocide can happen to anyone, and how we must all work to prevent such atrocities in the future. I just wish the answers to these questions were a little more clear.

Simon