Visiting S-21 Prison and Choeung Ek

Again in two parts.


Part the first:
The day started badly with a poor night's sleep with no air-con. I had a complete sense of humour failure that was fixed by a giant mug of tea and some Vegemite on a baguette.

And if that hadn't worked, then I had a large helping of perspective.

There is plenty of information on the net for anyone who wants to know more.

Part the second:

In the afternoon I walked round to the market near the guesthouse we are in. I had just caught sight of two of the boys from the tour (they are really sweet, they eat oatmeal for breakfast every morning and one doesn't eat the crusts on his sandwiches) and was heading for them when someone spat on me. It could have been an accident, or a sneeze, I'm not sure. I've been spat at before, but not on.

Just now I went out again and found a small shop selling handmade-by-Cambodians things. They had a big sign up about a school that they have set up in the country and I went in to ask about it. I had a conversation with the guy about it and then he asked me if I was married. I showed him my ring. He asked me if I had kids and I said no. He asked me when I was going to have kids...

We talked for a few minutes more and then he said:

“You are very beautiful. You should have babies. Especially, the mix is very beautiful with a Cambodian man. The mother's nose and the father's hair... very beautiful.”

Kampuchea

The day (has it only been a day?) falls into three parts:

Part one – Crossing the border

I was going to take a photo at the Thai/Cambodia border, but everyone looked hot and dirty and cranky.

The border crossing involved a lot of go here, go there, you don't need a passport photo, $20 fee, no, $23 fee, come back here, you do need a photo, get a stamp there, go and get on the truck, no you can't go through there.

Part two – Seeing some things

O Cambodia. Go. Go to Cambodia.

The people here are extraordinary. We went on the Bamboo Train and visited the village around the brickworks.

I was taught by some of the village children to count to five, say 'hello', 'goodbye', 'cow' and 'rooster' in Khmer.

 

Find a Cambodian guide (ours, Sam, is marvellous), or go with Dragoman. I can't tell you what I have learned, it is too much to think about again so soon, but there is a reason our itinerary sounds so bleak at this stage.

The stairs out of the killing cave - didn't photograph the cave

I can see why so many Westerners come here and convert to Buddhism. We stood at the bottom of the killing cave and Sam told us stories and Buddhism made sense. By the time we had returned to the truck, my spiritual destitution had reasserted itself. 

 

The thought of coming back here to teach has crossed my mind, but I have a feeling that it is just the big talk that sometimes happens.

Tomorrow we are going to the killing fields.

Bats at 6.30pm. Looked like the milky way.

Buddha emerging from the cliff.

Part Three – Cambodian Hot Pot and Disco.

Just to indicate how On Holidays I am, we followed a gut-stretching meal at a hot pot restaurant with a Cambodian disco. Where I would have danced all night, but for dehydration.

Aranyaprathet

We have left Bangkok and have arrived in Aranyaprathet.











 

Our bus (Gertie) is more than twenty years old, has no air con and leaks when it rains. Tonight I am sharing a double bed with someone. Apparently the motto for this trip is all about flexibility and acceptance and tolerance and stuff, so I am going to complain here to you rather than look bad in front of the rest of the group. I also have a query about the Coke bottle opener in the toilet.

 

Actually, the hotel reminds me a lot of Chez Lala in Tulear. But with a pool and no Madame Lala and no prostitutes. I am about to go for a swim in the pool (just giving it a few more minutes for the day to get cooler...) and I am looking forward to sitting in the outdoor restaurant and drinking beer. Everything is reminding me a lot of Madagascar and I am feeling all lovely and reminisce-y.

This is my third (?) day in Thailand and I have learnt to say four things. Hello, Thank you, foreigner and gecko. Tomorrow we cross the border into Cambodia

Bangkok taxis

And snacks I probably shouldn't eat on the bus:

Malaysian sunset from train window

Chatuchak Market

I was trying to work out how to cross a busy road this afternoon (There were no little old ladies and my usual method is to get close to a little old lady and go when she goes. I figure they must be doing something right.) and some how ended up in a taxi with an American couple from Hawaii going to the big Sunday market.

They were Nikki, a masseuse, and Peter, a ski-diving teacher. Peter has been coming to Thailand once a year since 2002 to unwind after ten months teaching.

The market apparently covers 20 acres, I'd never heard of it.

As I walked in I was overwhelmed by smells. First, books mouldering in the damp heat, then hand made leather shoes, woven baskets, teak lanterns. There was so much stuff to buy and so so cheap. Carved wooden fruit bowls for 40 baht (just over 1 AUD), a giant jade elephant god for 350 baht, little jade elephants for 50 baht. I walked past beautiful textiles and wished some of my shopping friends could be here.

From there I thought I took a turn to go to the hand-craft area and ended up in garden plants. Another turn to set myself to rights took me into the pet section. And that's where it all went wrong. 

At first I looked at the kittens and hamsters and guinea pigs and rabbits and made a little joke in my head that I could pick up one of each for snacks later on [terrible, I know, and possibly explains what happened next] because I got lost in the pets. I passed tanks and tanks of tropical fish (all the ones I'd learned to identify in Madagascar, many of the juvenal varieties, too). Then I got stuck in the poultry section and nearly passed out or threw up from the hot dusty feathery smell of it all. 

And it kept getting more nightmarish and everywhere I turned there were more animals and I started seeing baby sugar gliders scrabbling to get out of their aquariums and Macaw parrots and Australian Bearded Dragons and tiny Iguanas and hedgehogs and dormice. And then it got worse and there were buckets of big maggots and trays of small maggots and shrimp and krill and crickets and gold fish and do not take photograph signs.

The joke in my head changed to 'I think I have had a dream like this where I just kept going round and round and no matter which way I turned I couldn't get out.' Each time I was sure that I had found my way, there were more pets.

And then there were the squirrels. The baby ones were all in a wall of little wire cages and the bigger ones were lined up along the top. I couldn't work out why they weren't making a run for it until I got closer. They were all tied to the cage with little silk ropes around their necks. Each one was leaning against its binding with its little nose pressed against the cage beneath with a look of glassy-eyed despair. Except for one little chipmunk who was still fighting like mad to get free. Should I mention the one that had on a little yellow dress?

I thought I had been in there for hours, but it was only 30 minutes.

Khao San Road (or near enough)

Today I:

* fell in love with Thailand

* arrived in Bangkok,

* avoided being ripped off by taxis,

* checked into my hotel,

* found the only nearby ATM that doesn't charge fees (AEON, found here),

* bought sliced pineapple, sweet tiny crispy hot sultana cakes and a coconut juice

* went for a swim in the hotel pool in the rain.

In Singapore I marvelled at all the buildings with plants growing on them. Having travelled up the peninsula, I see that the trick is stopping the plants from growing on things.

This solo travel as a lady thing is brilliant. I sat down in the train from Butterworth to Bangkok opposite a Turkish man with terrifying plucked out tattooed back on eyebrows. He was then joined by his friend and we were all squished in to our berth. I felt super uncomfortable.

An hour later they were calling me “my friend” (common in Turkey?), feeding me chocolate cake and fooling around to make me laugh.

Then, because I am a lady-girl-traveller-person, I was able to ask them for their facebook contact without being creepy.

I experienced typical Australian confusion at the two-kiss farewell.

Singapore to Butterworth

I forget now where I read it, Lonely Planet? The Man in Seat 61? but bless whoever gave the advice about getting food for the train. This first leg was 13 hours and that is a long time to go without a snack.

As I was sitting on the train watching rows and rows of well-ordered trees going past, I started wondering why someone would try and do this. I came up with the following possibilities:

a) mad

b) crazy

c) a little deranged

d) showing off

e) it seemed like a good idea a the time.

I am thinking, in my case, it is e) with a bit of d) and some c).

That said, sitting in air-conditioned comfort at the front of the train, watching Malaysia go past was nearly as easy as watching it on telly. And I like the view from trains, you always get to see the back of things. From the road you mostly only see the front. I saw a goanna (or something that looked like one) climbing out of a river near one of the railway stations.

Leaving Keppel Road railway station in Singapore filled my romantic little heart with joy. It was easy to imagine that you were in a novel where people drank gin and tonics and wore beige. They are closing it down, soon. Relocating to a new, modern station that connects with their public transport system and will be much more efficient.

Once we were north of Kuala Lumpur, the view out the window stopped reminding me of country Victoria (with more palm trees) and started looking appropriately travel-documentary exotic.

I kind of wish Singapore (strangely like Melbourne, comfortingly familiar) could have come in the middle of the trip.

Notes on Singapore

* The heat aside, I think this would be a very easy place to live. I base this judgement solely on having just been into a shopping centre that had many craft stores [including a giant Spotlight] and shops selling clothes [in particular, bras and undies] in large-white-girl sizes.

* It is clean.

* I went into a shop selling durian, the experience of which explained all the no durian signs around the Hostel.

* I recommend the YMCA as a place to stay in Singapore.

* Spend more than one day here.

Flight to Singapore - Emirates night sky

Without whom, nothing.

Tullamarine

I am in the hurry up and wait part of travel (which I secretly love).

The gate lounge is full of people taking pictures of the plane and the
sunset. An old guy is filming fellow passengers. There is a broken
escalator wailing away behind us. It is very peacful compared to the
last minute rush of cancelling and suspending and postponing my
Austrailian life. I don't think I'd have made it with out my parents.
I think the last time I did this, it was much easier to just leave.

I am quietly delighted that my overland trip starts with a flight and
I'm looking forward o the movie.

This post bought to you by that little genius, the kindle.

Isabella Bird

I am thoroughly enjoying Among the Tibetans.

It has a great passage about her horse near the start that completely won me over.

" Gyalpo, my horse, must not be forgotten--indeed, he cannot be, for he left the marks of his heels or teeth on every one. He was a beautiful creature, Badakshani bred, of Arab blood, a silver-grey, as light as a greyhound and as strong as a cart-horse. He was higher in the scale of intellect than any horse of my acquaintance. His cleverness at times suggested reasoning power, and his mischievousness a sense of humour. He walked five miles an hour, jumped like a deer, climbed like a yak, was strong and steady in perilous fords, tireless, hardy, hungry, frolicked along ledges of precipices and over crevassed glaciers, was absolutely fearless, and his slender legs and the use he made of them were the marvel of all. He was an enigma to the end. He was quite untamable, rejected all dainties with indignation, swung his heels into people's faces when they went near him, ran at them with his teeth, seized unwary passers-by by their kamar bands, and shook them as a dog shakes a rat, would let no one go near him but Mando, for whom he formed at first sight a most singular attachment, but kicked and struck with his forefeet, his eyes all the time dancing with fun, so that one could never decide whether his ceaseless pranks were play or vice. He was always tethered in front of my tent with a rope twenty feet long, which left him practically free; he was as good as a watchdog, and his antics and enigmatical savagery were the life and terror of the camp. I was never weary of watching him, the curves of his form were so exquisite, his movements so lithe and rapid, his small head and restless little ears so full of life and expression, the variations in his manner so frequent, one moment savagely attacking some unwary stranger with a scream of rage, the next laying his lovely head against Mando's cheek with a soft cooing sound and a childlike gentleness. When he was attacking anybody or frolicking, his movements and beauty can only be described by a phrase of the Apostle James, 'the grace of the fashion of it.' Colonel Durand, of Gilgit celebrity, to whom I am indebted for many other kindnesses, gave him to me in exchange for a cowardly, heavy Yarkand horse, and had previously vainly tried to tame him. His wild eyes were like those of a seagull. He had no kinship with humanity."

Nerves

I have re-named my trip in my head. No longer the Melbourne to London Overland, it is the Singapore to Scotland Overland. With the long-postponed Wool and Whisky Tour of Scotland to finish up.

I am deep in thoughts of 'Why am I doing this?' and 'But I don't like travelling.' and 'Didn't I decide last time that the next time I got the urge to travel that I would just find a nice program on telly about far off places and enjoy being clean and dry and comfortable while I watched it?' and 'What if I can't find any internet.'

At least I know what to expect and I am ready for that funny feeling I get when I put down my bag. The 'Well, now what' of being in a new place with no routines or habits to fall back on.

I am mostly organised. Including a new hair cut.

It's hard to tell, but there is only about 1/5 of it left. I got it thinned for the 30+ weather over the next couple of weeks (months).

I am going to go and think about Uzbekistan and spindles and read Among the Tibetans by Isabella L. Bird, 1894.

A test using Kindle 3G while eating a sandwich

I read my little Kindle on thhe train up to Melbourne this morning. I
adore it. You can make notes on your book and look up words while you
read. I used towrite down words I ddin't know to look up later,but
this way is much better.
I am stil working out how to make paragraphs.