Back To The Roots
Sometime in mid-July 2010, a group of six merry backpackers rolled up to the Cambodian border
on a sweltering, third class Thai train, got promptly overcharged for visas by a collaboration of tuk tuk drivers and border guards,
and got on a bus to Siem Reap. Over all, we were only in Cambodia for a week. For me, it was enough to both fall in love with it and be very eager to get out.
My grandparents are thamselves survivors of genocide, but never before or after was I in a place where a tragic past and present are so obvious and visceral.
It hit me hard, extra hard, perhaps because of my own family's history. Memories good and bad have haunted me ever since.
I'm not sure what I expected now by going back. I am, if anything, more sensitive, better informed, and more conscious. I think I hoped things are better now (huh?), and I was impressed with Cambodia's
ultra low Covid numbers, hoping they're real. I wanted B. to experience Angkor, and this may be the only time in our lives when there are hardly any tourists.
And perhaps, I hoped I can do better as a tourist than I did before, somehow. Be better.
I wanted to find Khmer Amok we used to eat every night in the same restaurant in Siem Reap and the sticky rice.
It doesn't mean what it does in Thailand. Here it is rice cooked in a bamboo stick.
I wanted to experience Cambodia alive, without going to the Killing Fields (B. is refusing to go and I get it.)
Last time, we went to the Killing Fields and quietly left the country the following day. A couple of days before that, we went to the Tonle Sap floating market, and stopped in a village on the way, where
landmine surviviors were going about their business and an old lady selling sticky rice out of an old bike had nothing to her name but that bike. For the last decade, I've regretted not buying her rice.
Back then, I knew precious little about the recent situation in Cambodia. I had no idea that its corrupt dictator Hun Sen has been in power (by now) for nearly half a century by turning his cloak back and forth and throwing Cambodians under the bus
whenever it was expedient. I didn't know that the US had been arming the Khmer Rouge for decades, or Kissinger's role in destabilizing the region in the first place. I barely knew Pol Pot's real name.
I was this twenty year old backpacker having the time of her life with her best friends. I wasn't even doing any of the planning and research for the trip,
L. did most of that. Now I know so much more, and part of me wishes I didn't. What the hell did I get myself into.
[click on a video to play it]
January 29th 2022, Phnom Penh
We flew into Phnom Penh from Bangkok on a Lanmei Airlines flight. For the first time ever, we saw flight attendants decked out in full PPE.
Land borders are closed, because of Covid. I would have preferred to come in from the West, it would have been more gentle - Phnom Penh is too rough to be anybody's ideal first glance of Cambodia.
Upon landing, we were subjected to multiple documents checks and finally, after we picked up our bags, to a rapid Covid test.
This was terrifying of course - especially after what happened with my test in Thailand.
I can't imagine going through that but in a Cambodian hospital.
We were all asked to wait in the terminal as health workers would come out and read out our names after the tests, one by one, turned out negative.
Finally, we heard our names. We were free to go.
Much like everything else - this is not entirely the Phnom Penh I remember. Hopefully, that means there is less abject poverty and exploitation, but that remains to be seen.
On the way from the airport, we passed a Tesla outlet. Then a market selling smartphones on the cheap, according to the tuk tuk driver.
I knew (from L.) that the area we stayed in last time, Boeung Kak lake is no more.
It used to be a stunning, big lake in the middle of the city. There was a row of cheap hostels lining a coast, with parts of the buildings reaching on poles over the water, with hammocks and pillows.
When you exited the hostel, you were in a street where every establishment offered marijuana on the cheap. There were 1$ Long Island Ice Teas (the best you'll ever have - helluva kick and tasted like ice tea) and happy pizzas covered in weed.
We caught the last of it. The government had leased the entire area of the lake to a developer for 99 years for pennies. Shortly after we were there, people were evicted, the lake was filled with sand,
and the entire area turned into a giant building site soon to be covered in condos. You may not be surprised that the development company belongs to a very well connected senator of the ruling party, Lao Meng Khin.
Also, the girl in the hat you see in the pic (yes, I'm a monster for taking it) kept asking her parents for donations to various beggars and peddlers passing by, including a to-go restaurant meal
for a teenage landmine survivor in a wheelchair, that she ran after to give him the meal. It was incredibly wholesome. Also, she'll have her hands full when they get to Angkor. Love you kiddo, never change.
February 1st 2022, Angkor Archeological Park
Well, we did it. Rented bicycles and spent the day biking around Angkor. We're taking it slow, with a pass for 7 days to be used over 10 days (some sources say 1 month.)
We only did two temples today - Prasat Kravan and Banteay Kdei - but did 30km on bikes. not bad for day 1. Tomorrow, we'll move closer to the park to cut down on the commute to the Angkor area, so we have more time to bike in the Archeological Park itself.
February 4th 2022, Angkor Archeological Park
It always hits me how even in the strangest places, with ecosystems most unlike the ones I grew up in, some of the vegetation is eerily familiar. Rapa Nui was full of clovers.
The grounds outside Angkor Wat are populated by a plant that looks a lot like the clover flower, and would not look out of place in a much colder clomate.
There appears to be a lot of construction going on inside Angkor Wat. But our instinct to come here during the pandemic was spot on (if a little reckless)
- even in Angkor Wat itself, there weren't all that many people. Which is great. And the ones that are there are mostly from within the region.
Which is also fantastic, because we don't have to feel second-hand embarassment for too many Westerners' obnoxious antics.
Like, you know, me 12 years ago. Anyway, I found the ledge we climbed on with L. back in the day to wait out the guards. ;D
February 6th 2022, Angkor Archeological Park
February 11th 2022, Siem Reap - Creature Comforts in an Unequal World
We moved to an AirBnB today, because we were yearning for independence (who knew super nice hotel staff bringing you breakfast would get old so fast.) It's a nice, comfortable studio,
the kind that would cost 2k in Toronto. We're paying 15 bucks a day and it would be half that if we booked by the week. Housing economy is fake AF.
We also did some shopping in a supermarket with imported foods. Cambodia has kind of a dual economoy, where everywhere you pay you can do any combination of US dollars or Khmer riel at
an exchange rate of 4000 riel to a dollar. It's pretty weird because the actual rate has the riel slightly higher right now, so every time I get USD out of a cash machine it works ever
so slightly in my favor. Anyway, guess we'll have to talk about colonialism. Eventually. Then, the supermarket we went to had all prices in USD and shit was expensive. Probably more expensive than in the west. A few blocks further you can have dinner
for 2 bucks, but here you'll pay more than that for a stick of butter or a bag of chips. It reminded me of the restricted imported goods stores you could find in Poland before and right after the transformation.
The prices in these stores were absurd compared to everywhere else. I still remember going to a PewEx (the most famous one) once as a little kid. In any case, we got some creature
comforts at the supermarket.
February 12th 2022 - Expedition Beng Mealea
We rented a motorbike in town and went to the furthest, wildest, most rarely visited temple in the Siem Reap area - Beng Mealea. It took just under 2h each way at a comfortable pace.
At least on the way back we managed to avoid the highway because, ooof. Those drivers are nuts.
The good news is, we were the only tourists there that day.
We'd hoped to sample some jungle sounds (and we did) but it was complicated by
someone in the market outside of it playing music on a really powerful sound systems. Then again, some of the beats were pretty good so we got a little private rave
inside a wild, overgrown ancient temple.
February 13th 2022, Bayon Temple, East Top Temple. Preah Khan
L. goes by a Japanese name. When he was born, shortly after Vietnam's forces entered Cambodia and ousted Pol Pot, his grateful father gave him a Vietnamese name.
But L. hated it all his life. Here in the western parts of the country, Khmer Rouge guerillas lasted longer than ever. Their final fortress of Aanlong Veng is a scooter ride away.
L. remembers them coming into his family's farm and looting, and he and his brothers would have to hide every time so they don't get drafted. Vietnam's forces were supposed to help,
but L. says he's only ever seen them helping themselves.
His father convinced him to become a monk to get an education. So he was a monk for 6 years. Somewhere along the way, he learned English and Japanese, and spent some time as
an interpreter for Japaneese businesmen. They gave him the name by which he introduced himself by to us. He's a licensed Angkor guide and the pandemic years have been thin. We spent
hours listening to him pointing out details in the carvings of Bayon. They hold details of old battles that are just as rich as the -very similar - carvings I've seen in Persepolis.
He asked for a selfie. "For the wife. So she knows I'm not drinking."
After L. went away, we spent a little more time at Bayon. In a group of local tourists an old man asked to take a selfie with us. I suppose we were one of the first westerners post-covid restrictions.
That wasn't the strange part. The strange part, was his black outfit with traditional a button-down shirt and a red kroma scarf. This combination was the standard outfit under Khmer Rouge regime. It didn't appear to bother anybody around him.
February 15th 2022, Siem Reap
Let me introduce you to D.
D. is a multi-talented, charming man from Phnom Penh who speaks fluent English, has one hell of a singing voice and made a career as a bartender on international cruise ships.
He has a family in Siem Reap and wants to do right by them, so he came back from the sea. He opened a sky bar and it was an instant success. Until Covid hit. Because of the forced closure
- and no relief for passive costs like the space rental, D. lost all his savings from the ships. Now he's a restaurant manager in a delightful, but foreign-owned spot and that's where we met him.
He charms the guests and beats them at pool. He drinks every night and dreams of going back to the sea.
He invited us and the late-night staff to come along to a local drinking spot, far off the tourist path. And that's how we found the heart of Siem Reap's queer culture. At a typical Cambodian
street bar - that is, somone's back yard with a few tables set out - a large group of Zoomers drinks every night and gets ready to go out to clubs, if there are any open. And they are out, loud and proud.
Somettimes I really think that the only thing that can stop Gen-Z from thriving is us. If we just let them be, and stop the planet from burning beneath their feet, they will be great. And it gives me hope.
February 19th 2022 - Benteay Srei, East Mebon, Ta Som, Pre Rup
February 23rd 2022, Koh Rong Samloem
The good news is, we're on a beautiful tropical island that's Cambodia-cheap.
The not so good, the beach on the more inhabited side is covered in trash, there are no ATMs
and the places that offer cash back do it at a 10% premium, and getting in and out of the island is quite the ordeal.
You'll have to go through Sihanoukville, a gambling mecca where in the hour or so we spent there we had the roughest run-in with tuk tuk scams yet. We handled it though, thanks to
gps tracking and comparng prices on the internet. We're fine. Anyway...
There is, however, the far side of the island - much cleaner, more beautiful, and only a 20 min walk away. It seems like many visitors stay in Saracen Bay and walk across to Lazy Beach or Sunset Beach every day.
But in hindsight, it might be more pleasant to book one of the few bungalows on the West side. The bar on Lazy Beach has wifi and a good selection of food, and rents out snorkeling gear.
If you really wanted to, you could stay out of Saracen Bay altogether and make the most of this spot.
February 24th 2022
Russia launched a full-scale attack on Ukraine.
All I can do is count down days until we'll be in Warsaw in a week so I can actually do something.
February 28th 2022
When I flew to Iran in 2017, the first flight leg from Warsaw to Doha had to zig-zag to avoid war zones in Eastern Ukraine and Iraq. This time we're hitting a tripple combo - Afghaniistan, Iraq and Ukraine.
Post scriptum, May 2022
It feels strange to come back to this. The months in between, especially the weeks we were in Warsaw, make it seem like a trifle.
But I want to tell you about one night we spent in Phnom Penh just before leaving Cambodia. About things that happened between staring at the news,
crying together on the phone with friends back home and connecting people scrambling to organise relief to contacts with various specialized skills.
Even from a world away, the war was there.
It started innocuously, we were tired and had other things on our minds so we checked into a hotel and headed to the roof for dinner.
There was a really, truly great live band. Soul Front - Serdar and Maria - a guitar player and a singer. Now, we know how to cheer on a band especially if they slide
into melodies from metal tunes before bringing it back to more socially acceptable hotel dinner-fare. So they talked us into going into the real show after.
Another friend of theirs, a quiet guy from Hong Kong who cannot go back for his own safety and so goes back and forth between Phnom Penh and Bangkok, came along as well.
We went to a rock venue. It was in a strange place with some uncomfortable vibes of old white dudes who feel like they can do anything (there is less and less of that in Cambodia, but you can walk in on it still),
sex workers who should be way out of those dudes' league, and a band of incredibly talented musicians with a very political setlist the audience did not pick up on. In fact,
even Serdar, who played guitar in this band, didn't catch onto the fact that the entire second half were protest songs. The show was eventually ruined with one of the old dudes
getting on the stage and banging the drums like a toddler, drowning out the absolute virtuoso drummer they'd had on. The rest of the audience, who apparently mostly knew each other, loved it and cheered him on to stay, and
B. decided we need to leave before I kill him.
Over all, unlike 12 years prior, we were sorry to leave Cambodia. It's still intense, and unless you're blind or one of those westerners who are there to exploit it will present you with some tough realities.
If you're looking for an indroduction to Cambodia's modern history that's neither written by a Pol Pot apologist nor by someone drunk on colonial kool aid, I recommend
Kampuchea: The Revolution Rescued by Irwin Silber. Silber presents a convincing case that Heng Samrin's Vietnam-supported reforms did a remarkable job
rebuilding the country after Pol Pot's atrocities, and does justice to the West's role in first allowing Pol Pot to take power and then, in tandem with China and long after the scale of Khmer Rouge's genocide was known,
propping up their guerillas as a way to destabilize Vietnam's influence. However, the book is written before the Iron Curtain fell, Heng Samrin's influence started playing decidedly second fiddle to Hun Sen's,
and the latter navigated the changes in global landscape by largely selling out the country to neocolonial capital.