Bird’s Nest Bevarage – 25% bird’s nest

“Sir, you buy?” a woman asked with a plate of food balanced on her head.

An audible “Eeek!” escaped my lips. I don’t recall ever making this noise when confronted by a women selling food, except perhaps in McDonalds. But this was no ordinary snack.

We were on route to Sihanoukville. Originally Ruth and I were to leave Siam Reap and head to Vietnam. Sihanoukville, a beach in Cambodia was on route and the others in our group were to spend two days there. It was not i our itinerary, but we oth wanted some beach time and there seemed little point leaving the group when they were heading in exactly our directin for the ext month. So, as the best travellers do, we changed our minds at the last minute. flexibility.

It was to be a whole day travelling. First we needed to backtrack to Phom Penh. The bus was packed but comfortable. Our lunchtime break was at a small roadside cafe in the middle of nowhere. As the bus stopped the usual hordes of women with plates of food balanced on their heads flocked around the bus waiting us all to diembark. Some of the plates caught my eye – the women weren’t selling bread or fruit. What was it? I couldn’t identify the black mass. Or perhaps i didn’t want to.

I peered closer. Legs? Spindly, but chunky legs. Lots of them. But what of?

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Please note: There will be no Angkor What jokes in this post.

Sad i know, but i really do have a ‘100 things to do before i die’ list (remember Tara and Amelia?) This year has seen me tick off a fair few. One of the entries was to visit Angkor Wat in Cambodia. Ever since i saw their majestic splendour in photographs (which fail to them justice) i knew i had to visit them. So now i was back in Siam Reap. It was a pleasant five hour journey from Phnom Penh, but only because i refused to have no leg room and laid down the aisle much to the bemusement of the Cambodians on the coach who proceeded to stare at me laying on the floor for the next half hour.

After a day when the other five (Ruth, Susan, Louis, Tony and Raymondo) visited the Landmine Museum, which i had already seen on my previous trip, we hired two rickshaws for three days, a bargain at 15 dollars each.

Angkor is the heart and soul of Cambodia, a source of immense national pride. The largest temple is featured on the flag, and the name appears on businesses, hotels, guesthouses, restaurants and even the national beer (which is one hell of a tasty sud). They are world-class monuments on par with the pyramids of Giza and other wonders of the world that have survived into the modern era.

The temples of Angkor were the ancient capital of the Khmer empire and were constructed over a period of five hundred years, from the 9th to 13th centuries. They represent the pinnacle of Khmer art, architecture and civilization. Although the maverick psuedo-archeologist Graham Hancock argues the main temple was built by a progenitor civilization predating the age and empires of antiquity, it is unquestioned that the temples were the sacred political, religious and social heart of the Khmer empire whose economy, culture and military dominated the region until the 1200’s. Ironically these fusions of creative vision and spitirual devotion weakened the empire; the effort, materials and sheer cost of such epic endeavours undermined and bankrupted the imperial crown.

Secular buildings, including houses, palaces and public buildings have long since decayed as the right to dwell in stone was a privilege reserved solely for the gods. As such it was hard to appreciate the epic scale of this city which, at its peak boasted a population of one million people. In comparison ‘mighty’ London numbered around 50,000.

The temple ruins number in the hundreds. The Cambodian god kings (devaraja) strove to better their ancestors in size, scale and wonder culminating in the world’s largest religious building, Angkor Wat. It was here we would begin our journey.

Few who have seen Angkor Wat in the flesh would argue that i am being hyperbolic when i call the temple one of the most spectacular monuments ever conceived and built. It is artistically and aesthetically breathtaking, evoking power, harmony and balance through its sublime arrangement and proportions.

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After visiting S-21 in the morning, Phnom Penh delighted us in the evening as the country celebrated Bon Om Tuk – the water festival.

Bon Om Tuk is one of the largest events in Cambodia and marks the end of the rainy season, occuring in November for three nights during the full moon. The festival is a thanksgiving to the Mekong River for rich, fertile land and abundant fish.

In Khmer Bon Om Tuk literally means ‘the festival of the boat races’. Villages from all over the country send teams with their dragon boats to compete for three days of races which take place until sunset. Over 350 boats participate annually competing for a grand first prize of…100 dollars (around fifty pounds). That pot of gold is then shared between as many as 70 rowers.

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Another day in Phnom Penh, and another chance to explore the dark recesses of the human psyche.

Security Prison 21, also known as Tuol Sleng (an apt name that translates as Hill of the Poisonous Trees) was a complex that nearby workers termed “the place where people went in but never came out”. Codenamed S-21, the facility was originally a High School but became the epicentre of a vast and sophisticated network of interrogation and imprisonment. Where once it educated children, from 1975 to 1979 it was peverted to educate its inmates and the cambodian population in terror and obedience.

An estimated 17,000 people were imprisoned at Tuol Sleng during the four year reign of the Khmer Rouge. In the early months of the revolution most of the victims were soldiers and government officials from the previous Lon Nol regime or doctors, intellectuals, engineers and monks; bastions of the old society. Later, as paranoia took hold of the party leadership the machinery of state and oppression was turned on its own rank and file and the revolution began to devour itself.
Khmer Rouge members and soldiers viewed by Pol Pot as potential turncoats were accused of espionage, arrested and forced to accept fictitious confessions which accused their friends and family; so the prison population was replenished and the ranks of those liquidated increased.

The most important prisoners were held in Block A. These former classrooms each contained a rusting iron bedframe and torture instrument. I looked outside through a small window with bars across it. The day was beautiful, and the sun cast long strips of light across the tiled floor. It would have been hard to imagine the horror that took place in these rooms had it not been for the black and white photograph in each room showing the space as it was found by the liberating Vietnamese. Moving closer to each picture the abstract black and grey forms came into focus – the mutilated, swollen face and body of an inmate, chained to the bed and killed by his fleeing captors only hours before the prison was captured.

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PHNOM PENH – “TO KEEP YOU IS NO BENEFIT, TO DESTROY YOU IS NO LOSS”
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It is impossible to visit Cambodia and begin to understand or get a feel for the country, its history, present, and people without visiting the most infamous site of the Cambodian genocide. So, from the high of the night before, partying in Heart of Darkness, to the depressing low of the Killing Fields. Phnom Penh charms and chills in (un)equal measure.

We hired a taxi to take us through the traffic-clogged streets of the city and out into the countryside along a dusty dirt track. We arrived 17km later with those who had sat in the boot (door wide open) covered in a layer of orange dirt. We paid a small entry fee to the site which was once a former orchard.

Choueng Ek is a picturesque and tranquil area of fields, lakes and trees that belies its tragic past as a burial ground for those murdered during the long nightmare of the Khmer Rouge.

Enemies of the regime were arrested, tortured and then shipped out of the capital at night by truck, many still blindfolded and told not to be scared, they were going to a new home.

The site holds 129 mass graves where an estimated 17,000 men, women and children were executed by the Khmer Rouge on pretexts such as resistance to the regime, counter revolutionary tendencies or religious belief. If you were from the ‘wrong’ background such as a wealthy family, you were at risk. If you had the ‘wrong job’, such as an engineer or a doctor, you were at risk. If you wore spectacles (a clear sign of intellectualism according to the Khmer Rouge) you were at risk. If you knew how to read or open a car door, if you had a white mark on your wrist suggesting you had worn a watch, if your hands did not display signs of manual labour, you were at risk. Anything that suggested you belonged to the middle, upper or professional classes, lived in a town or city, or were tainted by westernisation threatened to attract the party’s unwanted attention.

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Sightseeing with a group of people can be stressful. Thankfully we were all in agreement – we would take it easy, give the national museum a miss and concentrate our day on the Cambodian Grand Palace and Silver Pagoda; the spiritual heart of the city.

Cambodia’s Grand Palace, built in the mid-nineteenth century indirectly harked back to past ‘golden ages’ for its architectural influences. The design was supposedly inspired by Bangkok’s counterpart, however, ironically the Thai Grand Palace was partially influenced by the ornamentation of ancient Cambodian temples.

Enclosed within mustard-coloured walls we strolled past reliquary stupas, well tended gardens and tall buildings with sweeping varnished roofs of yellow, green and red tiles. Sat amongst the typically south east asian architecture is an incongruous small French mansion – the pavillion of Napoleon III; a gift from France and a reminder of the (formal) imperial links that once existed between the two countries.

I found it a tranquil space, only yards away from busy roads and squares, but miles away from the hustle and bustle of Phnom Penh.

The largest and most impressive building of the palace is the Throne Hall, the only part of the interior we were allowed to view. This suitably plush room has been used for the coronation of Cambodian Kings, most recently the ballet dancing King Norodom Sihamoni – I half expected to see him pirouette out the door as i ascended the steps and entered the long, pillared, symmetrical room. The room was light, with auspicious chandeliers hanging from a muralled ceiling. But my eye was instantly drawn to the far end of the room and the ornate throne. The whole space around it radiates gold, even the air is tinged with the colour.

In the same compound as the palace is the Silver Pagoda; an extravagant temple which derives its name from the thousands of solid silver tiles that cover the floor of its interior. What’s wrong with Top’s Tiles? Though why bother with ceramics when you have five tons of precious metal spare?!

On display inside the main sanctuary are treasures of the Cambodian monarchy such as the tansluscent baccarat crystal buddha, the colour of jade, which topped a multi-tiered gilded pedestal in the middle of the room.

But for real bling, for the Puff Daddy’s out there, look no further than the 90kg solid gold buddha adorned with 2086-10,000 diamonds (sources do not agree), some a purse-busting 25 carat.

What would the historical Buddha have made of all this exceptionally wealthy and lavish earthly treasure in his name? I think….

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Our first destination in Cambodia was the capital, Phnom Penh. Every backpacker you meet pronounces the name differently:

1) Penom Pen
2) Fnom Pen
3) Nom Pen
4) Fnom Fen (?)

The locals pronounce the name similar to number one but with the stress landing on the ‘om’.

Two million Cambodians live here amongst the traditional Khmer and French influenced architecture. It’s a bustling city with sharp contrasts between rich and poor, past and present. Plastic-chaired food stalls fill the spaces between chic cafes and restaurants. Temples and palaces are packed with regular worshippers while a young and small glitterati dedicate themselves to the lower pursuits of bars and clubs.

We arrived at our chosen hotel which was situated on the banks of the Boeng Kak lake in the middle of the city. The Lakeside area has been labelled Cambodia’s Khao San road by many travellers. It’s a misleading description. Lakeside is a small, relatively quiet alley and though a backpacker ghetto of pancake serving restaurants and tye dye clothe shops we saw more Cambodians walking the street than fishermen pant wearing travellers. The two cannot be compared.

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So, back to Cambodia. A small country of almost 15 million people with a chaotic modern history that reads like an international relations textbook; chapters range from colonialism and indepence to war, coup d’etats, invasions and mass genocide.

One could be forgiven for assuming the final chapter details the wholesale implosion of Cambodian economic, cultural and social life during the long nightmare of the Khmer Rouge. But an epilogue is currently being written. In 1991 a comprehensive peace settlement was signed; reconstruction and stability have tentatively taken hold.

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LAOS TO CAMBODIA – CORRUPTION AT THE CROSSING
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Ruth and I were once again part of a group.

We all rose early and set off in the minibus to another town and another country. Cambodia.

After some thrilling card games (travellers television) we reached the border, an unofficial shack in the middle of the forest that is often closed and notoriously corrupt. Little surprise really – Cambodia has attained a heady 151st out of 163 in Transparency International’s Corruption Perceptions Index.

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Si Phan Don. The name literally translates as ‘four thousand islands’.

Here the Mekong, until now a wide expanse of water, branches out into an intricate web of channels producing a 14km wide mosaic of sandbars (see definition below), islets and islands numbering in the thousands.

Don Khong is the largest and most populous of the islands. In the last few years it has even attained the luxury of 24-hour electricity, but it still boasts a largely authentic traditional Laos lifestyle.

We were dropped by the boat at a small collection of guesthouses overlooking the riverbank. We checked into our chosen guesthouse and crashed out, exhausted from the journey. Around four o clock in the afternoon (whoops) we woke and decided to cycle around the island after speaking to three Irish girls who had just undertaken a similar journey. In our groggy state we failed to listen when they informed us how long it had taken.

We set off during daylight and admired the laid-back, sedate and traditional island life.

The road wound through rice paddies and lush green fields with grazing waterbuffalows. Every few kilometres we would cycle through a rustic village, just a few wooden shacks populated by people busying themselves with daily chores; women pumping water, and washing clothes in the river, children bathing by the roadside with a bucket, men threshing grain and other examples of subsistence farming.

Children would come running out of their houses and shout “good morning”. They were too cute to correct. Mothers would point us out to their kids r bring them over to us when we stopped. They were all so friendly.

It was clear that foreigners are still a novelty for these people.

After an hour we stopped for a break. A short distance across a field stood a small monastery. We watched as the sun set behind the roof silhouetting the building and the palm trees against a sky of bright reds, oranges and purples while the bells of the temple tolled.

The journey (very) turned ugly from then on.

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