Off the rails in Cambodia

His voice was becoming increasingly frantic, as if there was some concept that he couldn't seem to grasp. His name was Thai, and he was speaking in his broken English to us and a group of Israelis;

"In Israel you have war but still rich! In Cambodia, no more war but still poor!"; he motions towards his tattered clothes but there is a smile still on his face, it seems he was trying to make a small joke. Uncomfortably we laugh, it's hard to do anything else except feel sadness in a land that is so full of poverty.

After Siem Reap and the temples of Angkor, I headed south toward the capital Phnom Penh. In a rather optimistic outlook, I was thinking it may have some of the civilisation that exists in Bangkok - unsurprisingly, I was wrong. The town in the backpacker ghetto areas resembled that of a growing economy, but it only took five minutes walk outside that area to realise this is one of the poorest countries in the world. The legacy of Pol Pot and his regime lives on for these people, everyone who I spoke to seemed to have lost family or friends within the genocide - the holocaust and world wars seemed so distant as you rarely heard from real survivors, or the people who were directly affected; this isn't the case here.

The S-21 museum displayed what I can only describe as one of the most harrowing experiences of my life. Buildings were filled with pictures of torture chambers and wall after wall of photos of people who were left to rot in a mass grave. The rules of the S-21 detention centre were left for us to see, one of them read;

"You will not cry when being beaten or electrocuted."

Around the killing fields, it was possible to feel the anger in the guide's voice as he discussed the history of them; his mother had died here. In the middle of them now stands a monument with all the skulls they could find as a testament to what has happened, and should never happen again. One sign read "Mass grave of 480 women and children without heads".

Phnom Penh is a quiet city, but small - after visits to the killing fields, S-21, royal palace and such general tourist attractions were gone. Nightlife was salvaged at a club affectionately known as the 'heart', where the rich young Khmers come to dance the night away, small and grotty it was easy to tell you weren't in England (despite the music) but the main thing that gave it away was some of the best dancing I have ever seen. Feeling rather timid, knowing I lack most ablity in rhythm (along with singing and almost anything creative) I ended on a raised part of the dance floor with numerous others - but it's ok, it's Cambodia.

Stumbling home has become increasingly normal procedure - and walking down the street being offered dope, smack and opium is standard practice.

Having stayed at our guest house for several days, I was on good terms with the owners who on the promise of free beer asked me to come help them tout for guests. Being white allowed me to slip inside the bus area and do some 'inside touting' - with constant smiles and urges of 'get a canadian lady, man' from the tuk tuk driver made it all the more fun. I wonder what his wife thinks?

We were informed by the reliable barman that a party happens every first Friday - the biggest in Phnom Penh. On arrival, it was the sort of scene I expected within a movie. It seems the whole expat / travelling community gathers around a very large back garden including several bars, swimming pool and dance floor. Of course, the real fun was learning about all these people and their different stories - and not the wet t-shirted Cambodians / expats that were getting in and out of the pool...

A final fling involved visits to the war museum and the one legged guide. In order to raise money, a lot of landmine victims work here as tour guides amongst some of the machines and mines used by the Khmer Rouge regime. Although the issue was serious, the machines were pretty damn cool - such as the 'Stalin organ'. The guide in lacklustre English provided entertainment;

"This mine, one leg 2hr bleed and die."
- oh the bluntness
"Once I gave my friend the grenade instead of the pin and he was killed."
- wonderful
"But sir, if you use this howitzer watch out, 200 metre flame and deaf, deaf 4hr!"
- better not take that one home then..

A trip down to the beaches made for some much needed relaxation - important in such a stressful environment. Although the town was once again dead, watching people wave fire around late into the night on the beaches provided much amusement. The seas were crisp, the fishes were happy, the jellyfish were absent, the sun was hot - it doesn't get any better than this. That is of course until you rent a moto, without any form of driving license.

Back in Phnom Penh - a quiet night until the 6.30am bus leaves to take me to Saigon - and the beginnings of Vietnam...