Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum

1. You must answer accordingly to my question. 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 dare 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 in order to hide your secret or traitor.

9. If you don’t follow all the above rules, you shall get many 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.

From '75-'79, at least 17 000 people were tortured and killed in Security Prison S-21, a former high school which now stands as witness to some of the atrocities committed by the Khmer Rouge during Pol Pot's genocidal rule over Cam. The story goes that Vietnamese photographers followed the stench of rotting bodies to discover what remained of the last prisoners of S-21, killed by their fleeing captors. The photographs taken that day are now the most shocking component of the museum's "exhibits", mounted in the same bare rooms that formed the prison's torture chambers: the bare iron bed frames, shackles and blunt shovels used on prisoners remain to this day, a simple and brutal display of the unspeakable acts that took place here.

Other spaces revealed wall after wall of documentary photographs of prisoners, piles of clothes never to be worn again (prisoners were stripped and often remained naked til their deaths), and plenty of the restraints worn even while sleeping by the men, women and children from all over the country who ended up here. Many of those tortured into confessions of espionage and treason were actually Khmer Rouge soldiers and their families, though "inmates" were drawn from all over the country. Again, it's claimed that S-21 was a clearing house for those Pol Pot believed were capable of raising a coup against him. It seems that as the regime became more and more extreme, no one was safe from suspicion. Children brought to the prison were sometimes recruited as guards, and one man escaped death to become an official illustrator of the torture techniques used at Tuol Sleng.

Though the sights within these rooms struck most visitors dumb (and one despicably dumb American asked her guide how they got the bones so neat - did they execute the people standing up? No, they moved the remains after they were dead, you idiot), the sun continued to shine though the corridors of the old school, the grass was green and palm trees swayed around the gallows erected in the grounds. It seems only yesterday that these events occurred, and yet a million miles away from present day Phnom Penh. The sheer youthfulness of the population creates a feeling of optimism - seize the day kinda stuff... I feel an uneasy but immense respect for the Cambodian people who live in the shadow of this legacy but move forward with a confident smile.

Arrival in Cambodia

Aside from the usual undignified squabble when we arrived at the dock, and the tuk-tuk driver who followed us halfway through the city ("I follow you! I know you say no, I wait for you, so you want to go now?"), we arrived in Phnom Penh without incident and took a shining to the city pretty quickly. The roads are wide, the river sleepy and the tall palm trees shady. After Vietnam, the people immediately seemed cooler, more confident and laid-back: they'd get our money soon enough, and in the meantime they had their own shit to do. I like that. We stayed on the lily-choked lake, in a true backpacker ghetto where a hamburger seems the easiest food to find (not that *we* ate hamburgers! we only eat bona fide local food. Like frogs, and duck embryos).

We were (of course!) offered dope by our hostel manager on check-in along with towels and toilet paper (we declined but most others didn't. the drugs, that is, not the paper).

So, first tourist stop was the bling bling Royal Palace, with its solid silver floors and manicured grounds. Then markets, and a few drinks at the Foreign Correspondent's Club, thanks to some unlucky bugger who dropped US$20 on the ground.



Despite the cool-as-a-cucumber attitude of the city, as a tourist violence and death is the top of the agenda. After two days of touts (in hostel and on street), tempting us with the delights of killing fields and shooting galleries, I was hoping to opt out of all Khmer Rogue related activity. Until I was asked bluntly by a rather stoned long term guest of Green Lake Hostel, what the hell I was doing to Cambodia if I wasn't going to try to understand the country's history.

Fair enough.

So while the excitement of shooting a REAL GUN would have to be skipped, we did visit the Genocide Museum...

It's tough...

Bloody Ferry...

I'm busting to get out of Vietnam - but loving the thought of a couple of days in an international style resort, and J'n'J had very generously offered to gift us with some accommodation. So we head vaguely towards the island of Phu Quoc, and the border, catching to local bus to a town where they grow flowers... nice... but here's a note to travellers: the bus takes a lot longer than your own motorbike. We've kind of forgotten how long stuff takes by local public transport, and we have to stop to check whether JnJ have made the internet booking. Yes, they have. For the next night. There's only one ferry per day, so we have to get to the port town today. Fine

Including walking between terminals etc we changed mode of transport 12 times in one day... Walk, local bus, regional bus, walk, mini bus, moto, walk, ferry, walk etc etc....

The highlight was waving down a private mini bus, that just happened to have a 10 year old Canadian/Vietnamese girl on board who was back home with her mum and could translate for us. We paid a dude on the bus 60 000 dong, and it was explained by the very polite young lady that we'd have to change buses, but that this dude would come with us. Fine, except when we got off the bus, our new friend merely waved down two other dodgy looking dudes, paying them 10 000 each to give us a lift to the next town on their motos (then more walking, another 2 motos etc etc).

So anyway, we crash into the port town, Rach Gia, about 8pm, find a bed, find some food, and book the ferry.

Oh,

The ferry's not running.

Oh.

There's a storm out at sea and the ferry hasn't run for the past 3 days.

Oh.

The hotel reservation is one of those no change, no cancellation, lastminute.com deals.

Right.

Well, we saw an airport on the way into town, maybe we'll fly (gulp).

So we wander over to Vietnam Airlines... Sorry, booked out til the 18th.

After some typical speaking-a-second-language-culture-clash stuff, we find there's a standby list. Eventually we find out we can actually get tickets for the 13th. Blake calls the hotel to see if we can change the non-changable reservation. Yes! We can, we just have to go online and change on the internet as well. But of course that doesn't work (computer says no).

So back to the Vietnam Airlines office for us. We call the hotel again, and are told to try the Saigon head office. I'm assuming at this stage that we're going to write-off the $200 gift. But the man at the Saigon office is actually going to Phu Quoc this weekend. He understands that sometimes the weather plays havoc with arrivals at this hotel. Although our internet booking is strictly non-transferable and non-refundable, he's going to make an exception for us.

So in the end, we have to hang out in the border town for 2 days, we're paying 340 000 dong to fly across to the island, but we get our tropical holiday-inside-the-holiday.

Bloody Ferry.

Those of you reading Blake's blog will be pretty up to date with our motorbiking... It's been an incredible and hopefully authetic way to see Vietnam, and while we've stayed at a few interesting joints along the way (the hotel next door to the loudspeaker that broadcast news to the entire neighbourhood from 5 am, the one with the bikini girls printed onto tiles in the bathroom, the one of the beach where we had to bring the moto inside the room with us to prevent theft...), we've also found some absolute gems, especially along the coast.

We've had the pleasure of interacting with some genuinely kind and pleasent strangers, but also had to deal with innumerable uncomfortable stares, sleaze bag guys, conniving little old ladies, and a bunch of juninile deliquents that provoke violent tendancies in me...

You're never far from industry or development in this country, and we also passed plenty of these scenes - totally ostentacious building, usually in the middle of nowhere, often houses so shiny and huge we mistake them for hotels. Historically, land in Vietnam is taxed on street frontage, resulting in the long, narrow constructions, but these things are ridiculous - another manifestation of the Vietnamese preoccupation with wealth and enterprise, and their obsession with saving face, looking good and being right no matter what the price, or the sense.

Daddy... I want a pony...

Plenty of new foals at the Valley of Love in Dalat. The "cowboy" reluctantly took me out for a whole hour wasnt happy when I whipped his arse in the race home on myburly mountain pony ...