Cambodia pt. 2: Pigeons and Prisons in Phnom Penh

Hello, xin chào, and ជំរាបសួរ (chom reap suor) !

After Kampot, I headed to Cambodia's capital, Phnom Penh. Based on what I had heard and read about the city before, I wasn't expecting too much, but I really enjoyed it! Its beautiful architecture reminded me of Thailand, but it also had the chaotic, anything-goes energy of Vietnam.

The Royal Palace and Phnom Penh skyline from the roof of my hostel.

Anyways, picking up where I left off, I caught an 8:30am bus from Kampot to Phnom Penh. Though the bus itself was relatively spacious and comfortable, it ended up being quite possibly the worst bus ride I've ever been on. And that's saying something. Long stretches of road were unbelievably bumpy, and a construction boom meant traffic jams in the middle of nowhere. The roughly 100-mile journey took 4.5 hours—meaning an average speed of 22 mph. The last 10 miles of the trip took a full hour.

As I mentioned before, Cambodia's infrastructure is far from adequate, which only partially explains the current construction boom. Over the past decade or so, foreign investment has been pouring into the country—primarily from China. Infrastructure investments in the developing world have been a cornerstone of the Chinese Belt and Road Initiative—in Laos last year I saw a bridge over the Mekong under construction as part of a rail link to China, and Hanoi's [allegedly] soon-to-open metro has also been financed by China. In fact, a coastal city near Kampot called Sihanoukville has received a notorious influx of Chinese investment and is reputed to have been overrun by casinos. Interestingly, during the bus trip, I noticed a number of warehouses and factories with signage in only Chinese and Khmer.

Somewhere on the highway.

As I was losing my mind getting stuck in traffic on a two-lane highway—sometimes more like 1.5 lanes thanks to construction—in rural Cambodia, it slowly became evident that the A/C, though extant, was not operating anywhere near full capacity. Not a good situation when it's 95°F and sunny. It just kept getting stuffier and stuffier, and once we got into the city, the bumper-to-bumper traffic, seemed to amplify everyone's visible misery. It amazes me how bus travel, no matter where you are in the world, always finds a way to lower the bar a bit further.

View from the back of the tuk-tuk.

Eventually we made it to the bus company's station, and I used Grab to call a tuk-tuk to my hostel, where I was rewarded for my suffering on the bus. I think this was the nicest hostel I've stayed in anywhere in the world—and for only $6/night. The mattress and bedding were on par with any mid-range hotel back home; the design was clean and modern; there was a small balcony with lots of natural light; and the A/C was pointed right at by bed. Even better, it was set to a ridiculously low 16°C (61°F), and I didn't even have to passive aggressively fight non-Americans to keep it that way. (Seriously, nowhere else in the world loves A/C nearly as much as Americans, which is a recurring problem for me in my travels.)

The notice at the front desk.

What was odd, though, was a notice about power cut-offs posted at the front desk. Apparently the aforementioned construction boom has been enough to overwhelm Cambodia's electricity supply. There were going to be random cut-offs every day in different parts of the city for 2-3 hours in each area. Sure enough, on day two I slept in late enough to leave a powerless hostel. That's certainly never something I'd experienced before.

Street eatery somewhere in the city center.

Meanwhile, after I dropped off my stuff on arrival, I headed out to find food and a cafe to rest at during the peak afternoon heat.

I try not to think too hard about all the absurd wiring I see in SE Asia.

Usually when I travel, I hoof it all over the city to see as much as possible. In Phnom Penh however, worn out from the arduous traveling over the last couple days, I was content to just wander the area around my centrally located hostel.

A peek of the Royal Palace complex.

Two monks taking pictures in the park between the palace and the river.

I made my way past the Royal Palace to the city's bustling riverfront, where the Tonlé Sap—the lifeblood of Cambodia—meets the Mekong. I absolutely loved all the commotion and the scenery on Sisowath Quay.

Crossing the street to get to Sisowath Quay.

Since it was the tail end of the dry season, the Tonlé Sap's levels were at their lowest. Also, pigeons.

As much as I loved it, there was one part I wasn't so sure about: the totally obscene quantity of pigeons. So. Many. Pigeons. Everywhere. Like a truly bewildering number of pigeons. I've never seen The Birds, but I have to imagine it's a lot like what I witnessed on Sisowath Quay. I still don't fully understand how or why, but I can pretty confidently say that I have never seen so many pigeons in one place at one time.

Discarded flowers from a Buddhist rite are visible in the background.

What is going on with that dog?

The people-watching was wonderful, and the atmosphere was just how I like it: convivial. The breeze was also a welcome respite from the brutal heat and humidity.

This is easily one of my favorite pictures I've ever taken.

This little kid saw me lining up a shot of the palace from the quay and took the opportunity to pose. I quickly snapped the photo, and then he ran off.

Sisowath Quay at dusk.

As sunset approached, I went back to my hostel to check out the view from its enclosed roof deck.

My plate of Shish Tawook.

The next day I headed out for lunch at a nearby Lebanese place that I also had lunch at the day before. I had a sampler of mezze and settled on a full-sized order of my favorite item: the shish tawook. It came with pita bread, garlic sauce, and fattoush—and it was only $5.50. I'm not sure I'd had any Mediterranean food since being in Asia, and this was just as good as back home. I was so, so pleased.

Around the corner from my hostel.

The plan for the afternoon was to head to the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum, which means it's here that the tone of this post takes an abrupt turn.

As a head's up, there are a few potentially unsettling photos that follow. (The only graphic contents are skulls in one picture and an extremely blurry photo in the background of another.)

View from one of the buildings at Tuol Sleng.

During the Khmer Rouge's four-year reign (1975–1979), nearly two million Cambodians died—or one quarter of the country's population. Of those, roughly 60% were executed; the remainder succumbed to famine or disease.

Here in Phnom Penh, the Khmer Rouge converted a former secondary school into Security Prison 21 (S-21), one of at least 150 torture and execution centers they operated throughout the country. Much of the prison has since been preserved as the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum. (Tuol Sleng translates from Khmer as "Strychnine Hill.")

On the grounds of Tuol Sleng.

The prisoner rules on the sign above were as follows:

1. You must answer accordingly to my questions—don't turn them away.
2. Don't try to hide the facts by making pretexts this and that. You are strictly prohibited to contest me.
3. Don't be a fool, for you are a chap who dares to thwart the revolution.
4. You must immediately answer my questions without wasting time to reflect.
5. Don't tell me either about your immoralities or the essence of the revolution.
6. While getting lashes or electrification, you must not cry at all.
7. Do nothing, sit still, and wait for my orders. If there is no order, keep quiet. When I ask you to do something, you must do it right away without protesting.
8. Don't make pretext about Kampuchea Krom [ethnic Khmers living in Vietnam] in order to hide your secret or traitor.
9. If you don't follow all the above rules, you shall get many lashes of electric wire.
10. If you disobey any point of my regulations, you shall get either ten lashes or five shocks of electric discharge.

A photo of a dead prisoner taken by a liberating soldier hangs above a bed in a former torture chamber.

Every prisoner was photographed upon admission. The high quality and clarity of the photos made for a chilling reminder of just how recently the genocide occurred.

Out of the estimated 20,000 prisoners held in S-21, there were only 12 known survivors. Generally, prisoners would be held here for a few months of torture and forced confessions before being taken to the Killing Fields of Choeung Ek outside the city. There, they often dug the mass graves in which they were then clubbed to death (to save bullets).

A typical cell at Tuol Sleng. The walls only reached about 6 ft.

A corridor along the cell blocks.

Rooted in communism and nationalism, the Khmer Rouge's paranoid ideology of self-sufficiency glorified agriculture and the virtues of the rural Khmer population while vilifying intellectuals and the elite. This meant that professionals and anyone with an education—and often their families—were targeted for forced labor or execution alongside the non-Khmer ethnic groups that made up 15% of the population. Simply wearing glasses was reason enough to be targeted.

On the left are maps showing the forced migrations of urban populations to agricultural communes in the countryside. On the right are clothes worn by Tuol Sleng victims.

Skulls of genocide victims on display.

People who were living in cities were forcibly relocated to collectivized farms. These took the form of mandatory "evacuations" under the pretense of American bombings, and no one was allowed to return. Once relocated, everyone would have to write autobiographical essays, the contents of which would determine if they needed to be sent for execution or to a labor camp. As the newly arrived city-dwellers knew very little about agriculture, those lucky enough to remain in the communes failed to meet production quotas and thus often faced widespread famine.

A typical individual cell at Tuol Sleng. They were usually no more than 2-3 feet wide.

Me and Chum Mey, one of the 12 survivors of Tuol Sleng.

On my way out, I passed a table with signs promoting a book written by one of the 12 known survivors of the prison, Chum Mey, and after a minute I realized the man in the picture was sitting at the table. I lingered long enough that a few English speakers sitting with him called me to come look. I bought a copy—it's basically a brief autobiography with a lot of excellent compiled info about Tuol Sleng—and the woman who ushered me over offered a photo, which I couldn't turn down.

For all the deeply disturbing things I had seen at Tuol Sleng—such as the graphic paintings of torture methods hung above the actual torture instruments themselves—it all felt rather abstract up until this point. The moment he put his arm around me was one of the most unsettling moments of my entire life. Not so much because of him per se, but more because it pulled everything I had just seen into terrifying focus.

The Independence Monument as seen from a tuk-tuk.

I can't say I've ever been so viscerally affected by a historical museum, and I know that my visit to Tuol Sleng will sit with me for a very long time—even now, editing my photos and writing about it, a knot almost immediately forms in my stomach. Totally shaken, I called a tuk-tuk back into the city. Back to vacation.

Back at Sisowath Quay for sunset.

Chili- and kampot pepper-infused vodka mixed with vanilla syrup, passionfruit, and lime.

To wind down the day, I went to the Foreign Correspondent's Club for a sunset drink. Now known as FCC, this was the haunt of journalists during Cambodia's many decades of strife. There was a lovely, open-air view of the Tonlé Sap and Mekong, and interesting black-and-white photos of Phnom Penh.

borger

For dinner, I returned to the same place as the night before, a French burger place owned by a super friendly Khmer-French woman. I got the most delicious medium-rare burger with raclette, caramelized onions, and special sauce alongside fries and a salad. Likely because of the large expat communities in Cambodia, I had the best Western food I've ever had in Asia there. In fact, this place had a comprehensive expat guide made by an expat services agency! (That's how I found out about Cambodia's retirement visas for anyone 55+.)

A remork parked in front of the Buddhist Association of Cambodia.

A group of women passing one of the entrances to the Royal Palace complex.

The next day, I somewhat guiltily had a third leisurely lunch at the Lebanese place by my hostel and then headed over to visit the Royal Palace. But it turned out the hours on Google Maps were totally wrong, and they were closed for lunch from 11am to 2:30pm. I had to head to the airport at 3, but at least I could see some of it from outside. I've heard it's similar to the palace in Bangkok, and I've seen that anyway.

Looking out from the terrace.

Plan B? Back to Sisowath Quay, where I saw a restaurant above the tourist information center. I got an iced tea and sat out on the terrace watching life go by on the river and the quay.

Market on Sisowath Quay.

Kids looking for recyclables (I think?) on the riverbank.

I tried to take the newly operating train out to the airport, but I couldn't find its schedule anywhere. At the train station, I was so enamored with being able to get my boarding pass from some self check-in kiosks that I tuned out the last call for what's apparently an hourly service. (The only other place I've seen a similar service was in Hong Kong, where you can actually check your bag at the city's main train station. I was so shocked to be able to use a service like this in a place like Cambodia.)

The Phnom Penh airport was surprisingly nice and modern, which combined with the airport train highlights the investment pouring into the country. My route back to Hanoi was equally convoluted as the one I took to get to Kampot. It worked out cheaper to fly to Bangkok in the evening, spend the night at a hostel, and fly to Hanoi the next morning.

The hostel portion of the journey was super smooth—I literally walked out of arrivals into the city and on to my hostel in about 10-15 minutes. I had some pad thai for dinner and got some sleep before my pre-dawn return to the airport. I spent nearly an hour and a half in line starting at 5:15am to check in and get my boarding pass for my 7:05am flight, which was all sorts of fun. Luckily the flight was delayed enough that I stopped at the airport Krispy Kreme and picked up some mango-filled donuts to bring to Hanoi. All's well that ends well.

Check out more photos from Phnom Penh here!

Till next time,
Gray