June 3-4, 2004

Our last day in Phnom Penh went much without event. Exhausted both physically and mentally, I was glad to have a reprieve from the stimulation. In true form, I managed to accomplish very little but found myself enjoying the day regardless. The heat and pollution of Phnom Penh has, on occasion, made me take double takes to insure what I think I have seen is actually what I have seen. Most of the time, these are merely illusions. Sometimes they are things I want to see like people I know or places I want to go, but more times than not they are simply fleeting images of obscurity. As I reflected on my days here in Phnom Penh, I latched on to this notion of illusions and began to realize that much of Phnom Penh, or what the average tourist sees rather, is simply an illusion.

There is a seeming ambiguity or arbitrariness to much of the ordinary. Take for instance riding on a motorbike to get to some destination. There don't appear to be any real traffic rules. Red doesn't necessarily mean stop on a motorbike and the strict left/right understanding of flow doesn't seem to apply. The classic appearance vs. reality dichotomy seems to be at play here. While thousands of motorbikes weave expertly (or sometimes not so) around cars, trucks, buses, and other motorbikes, one gets the sensation that there is great risk involved. Indeed, there are many accidents every day but from the back of a moto, you almost feel that the seeming chaos of the streets from a sidewalk is actually in careful order. Again though, these are illusions, changing with your perspective. To contribute to this ambiguity, motos may be barreling down the right side of the road with the rest of traffic, or if that is too congested, then perhaps they'll careen down the left side. The first time this happened, I was more than a little concerned about my moto moving straight into oncoming traffic. But, the calm order superceded all else. Upon careful inspection, one also sees that inside cars, the steering wheel might be on the right side, or it could be on the left. All of this contributes to the illusion of chaos on the Phnom Penh streets.

Yet sometimes this traffic spills onto the sidewalks. I have become accustomed now to cars and motos parked or moving down the sidewalk which we assume should be reserved for pedestrians. That classic appearance vs. reality and order vs. chaos is again at play, tricking you into confusion and concern. However, rarely is it that exhilirating. Instead, moto drivers maneuver the roads with ease and each day the same scene replays with slight variations on the theme. I hasten to add that this illusion was also shattered one day as I was very nearly involved in an accident with my less than inept moto driver. We ran into the moto in front of us and starting tumbling to the right, only to be saved from collision with the asphalt. Very close indeed.

The streets of Phnom Penh are such an interesting place to be. I have lamented earlier and at length about the people one encounters, but there is also so much more. While walking back from dinner one evening, the lights in Phnom Penh simply went out. I was startled and looked around at the darkness and panicked. I had become so comfortable with both day and night in Phnom Penh that when that illusion was shattered, things seemed out of control. Yet, for the locals, this was nothing. No panic, no anxiety. Candles were lit and business continued as usual. Chaos or order? Appearance or reality?

After several interviews in Phnom Penh, my next moment of clarity came when probing deeper into the ensuing tribunal against the former Khmer Rouge. As I have found, this tribunal may not be the best thing for Cambodia and her people. I don't want to further bore everyone with my thoughts on this, but suffice to say that it may be pompous of us to assume that we can impose a western sense of justice onto an eastern world that may not be responsive to our overtures. However much we want to say that west is best, it is simply not the case. West may not even be right. It is curious how ethnocentric we can be at times when looking at particular issues. I simply must turn the tables and remind that it wasn't but a few years ago when the United States was in an uproar against the US boy in Singapore to be caned for vandalism. We wanted western justice in an eastern world, but we cannot and we should not always get our way, because our way may not be the best way to handle things. Yet again, another of our illusions, or perhaps delusions.

Even when making ordinary transactions, I find myself falsely assuming much. It is difficult to grasp that every person in Cambodia over the age of about 30 has a Khmer Rouge/Pol Pot story of their own to tell. A story of pain and heartache all hidden behind the face of a fighter who plugs on despite it all. Every person in Cambodia has been touched in one way or another by the Pol Pot regime. Although ever present, this isn't something you consciously consider when buying a coconut, etc. There is that clear sense that there are millions of memories swirling about you left unsaid. Millions cannot tell their stories and many choose not to, or do it in such a way that it is so matter of fact that one gets the sense that there own struggles are told in much the same way one would describe yesterday's weather. These are all illusions too, there is real pain, real suffering, and untold stories leftover from the Pol Pot years. The precarious place of the Khmer Rouge history in Cambodia and its present understanding will be left for another forum.

On the day we left Phnom Penh, we boarded a bus for Siem Reap with other tourists. I figured that this would be another inconsequential event in my travels. Instead, the views from the bus window made another impression upon me. As I've mentioned earlier, poverty in Cambodia is a large problem and once outside Phnom Penh and into the countryside, this became more apparent. Watching farmers toil laboriously in rice paddies or children tend lean cows, you got the feeling that something was awry. In fact, it was the bus itself that was the problem. There was a barrier between us and them, and it was uncomfortable to say the least. Some people stared at us going by, some didn't even notice, and the same was true on the inside. Some looked but I wonder what if anything did they see. Perhaps we're all just caught in some delusion of our own, influencing the illusions we perceive, appearance vs. reality, order vs. chaos.