“Better to kill an innocent by mistake than spare an enemy by mistake”

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The school buildings at S21

We visited a school yesterday. Its design reminded me of a Lycée I spent a day at many years ago in Paris, with multi-story blocks surrounding an open courtyard, and a chequered tile floor. This one sounded different though.

Schoolyards are meant to echo with the sounds of children playing, the shrieks of delight and footballs skidding around – but there was silence. The tattered blackboards were chalked with rules that preached total submission to those in charge. From the gym equipment in the yard hung a series of metal loops used for torture. And there were 14 anonymous graves in the ground outside one of the former classrooms. We were here to witness the remnants of the horrors of the three year, eight month and 20 day rule of the Khmer Rouge. It was probably the most heartbreakingly shocking thing I have ever seen.

Reading Jung Chang’s amazing book Wild Swans had given me a sense of the utter brutalistic lunacy of China under Mao, with his attempt to violently force everyone into the working class, turning man against man through successive purges and by fomenting chaos in the belief that only through repeated revolution could there be radical change. Pol Pot followed these beliefs fervently, but apparently sought even more rapid and forceful upheaval. The school we visited was S21, one of many prisons set up to interrogate and torture those who disagreed, or who in many cases were just caught up in the maelstrom of revolution and suspicion.

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Blackboard in a former classroom converted to a cell


Over the course of just under four years of rule, between one and three million people were killed, either executed en mass using farm tools (bullets were too expensive) like the 17,000 who passed through S21, or starved to death in the fields working from four in the morning until ten at night with only a few grains of rice to eat each day. Even by the most conservative estimate, that’s one death for every two minutes they were in power. In all, it’s believed that around 1/4 of the Cambodian population died under the Khmer Rouge.

The sheer psychotic madness of their beliefs is preserved in the slogans of the revolution. Most aptly for our venue, one was “Study is not important. What’s important is Work and Revolution”. In line with this, all schools and universities were closed, many to become prison camps. The same happened to many prisons, and the entire urban population was moved to the countryside to do hard labour and learn from the peasants, Mao’s equivalent of intellectual role models. As an indication of how rapidly this happened, it took just 3 days for the entire population of Phnom Penh to be evicted – some 2.5 million people.

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Classrooms knocked together with cells inside


Walking round, two things really brought the reality home for me. The first was how much the building was so evidently a colonial era school that had been crudely and swiftly brutalised into a prison. The masonry walls between classrooms had been punctured by primitive sledgehammer doorways, and the classrooms divided by rough brickwork into lines of tiny cells, each just big enough for an individual to lie down. The window openings in the open air corridors had been wrapped in barbed wire to prevent desperate prisoners from escaping by committing suicide. Many of the rooms still had their contents, rusting iron beds and shackles; an interrogator’s wooden chair; an ammunition box which was used for excrement. There were photos and paintings showing what it had been like. And running through all of this was the distinct, chilling reminder that this had all happened right where we stood – on the dusty, dirty yellow and white chequered schoolroom tiles beneath our feet.
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Barbed wire to prevent desperate prisoners from committing suicide

The other thing that will stay with me were the faces staring out from the thousands of mugshot photographs. Each detainee was photographed on arrival, and of the 17,000 recorded in the files, only around 140 ever made it out alive.

In the afternoon, we went to Choeung Ek, the ‘killing fields’ where those from S21 were executed and buried in mass graves. A thought provoking audio tour gave plenty of opportunity for quiet reflection as we walked around the grave mounds and memorial stupa, where the victims’ bones are now kept. The barbarism of the regime meant that in many cases entire families were exterminated, including babies, following Pol Pot’s mantra that “to dig up the grass, one must remove even the roots.”

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The sign speaks for itself


Poignantly, where indescribable horrors once occurred there is now an abundance of butterflies hovering between the greenery, their fluttering wings bringing colour – and life – to the grey piles of skulls of the past.

As you sit there in the shade by the brown shimmering lake, next to the gleaming green rice paddies and alongside the gold-topped memorial, you have to ask yourself how such atrocities can happen – and indeed can continue to happen. The Khmer Rouge’s massacres happened only just before I was born, continuing a chain that includes Nazi Germany and more recently Iraq, Serbia, Rwanda – and Palestine, Lebanon, Sri Lanka and perhaps even right now, in Syria.

I think my normal answer would be to say this is why we need to strengthen and have faith in international structures like the UN, which can use democracy and international law to bear on those who commit such acts. However, I must say that my faith was left severely lacking by how justice has played out after the Khmer Rouge were routed, illustrating how the very strength of geopolitics is also its undoing. As I understand it, the problem was that it was the Vietnamese that defeated the Khmer Rouge, forcing Pol Pot & co to flee to the border with Thailand and a new government to take over and pick up the pieces. With the geopolitics of the cold war in full swing, few were happy to side with communist Vietnam, and so instead China, Thailand, the US and even the UK supported Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge government in exile, channelling them aid money and even continuing to recognise the Khmer Rouge as Cambodia’s official government internationally in the UN. It was only in the mid 1990s that things started to change for the better with recognition that the Khmer Rouge was still seeking violence, and only in 2003 that four of its former leaders were put on trial, the hearing eventually starting in July 2006. The sad reality is that many of the perpetrators will never face justice due to old age – Pol Pot himself died in 1998, and many more have ingratiated themselves with the new regime. The one trial to have concluded so far – that of ‘Comrade Duch’ who ran S21 – resulted in him receiving a sentence of 35 years, which when time is taken off for his incarceration while awaiting trial is equivalent to 11 hours and 30 minutes for each execution under his command.

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Memorial Stupa at the Killing Fields


As we sit here on our sweaty bus out of Phnom Penh to adventures new, I can’t help but hear the voice of one of the survivors echoing in my mind. He was pleading for those who visited to take away from the horrors a greater understanding of how such genocide can happen to anyone, and how we must all work to prevent such atrocities in the future. I just wish the answers to these questions were a little more clear.

Simon

Christmas in Kampot

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Hello!

We’re back on the road again after a wonderful couple of weeks with the fantastic Michael Carroll in Kampot. We’re now in Phnom Penh, and tomorrow we’ll be heading to Siem Reap and the temples of Angkor Wat before journeying onward to Thailand and finally Malaysia.

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Mike at sunset


Kampot is a lovely crumbling dusty old colonial riverside town with a peculiar abundance of tourist-friendly guesthouses, restaurants, cafes and slightly more strangely, roundabouts. Its the quiet charm of the town itself and not any nearby monument or beach that’s the main draw – and given that, we were surprised at quite how many tourist facilities there were, almost all run by a sizeable bunch of expats enjoying the quiet life. This was all the more strange given there was practically nobody around when we first arrived – the high season has been slow to pick up this year, in part due to the financial downturn, and in part the flooding in Thailand.

What the town lacks in specific tourist sites was more than made up for by our fabulous host Mike, who set us to work variously on cycling adventures, kayaking through mangrove swamps, playing crazy golf, and eating fresh blue crab in the seaside resort of Kep. On a number of occasions on the water, we were treated to the sight of flying fish. In the river by Kampot we saw shoals of thousands of small silver fish leaping out of the water in unison at sunset, a spectacular sight. On the way back across the bay from Rabbit Island, a single larger fish crossed the path of our boat at high speed and seemed to walk – or perhaps run – on water for 50m or more, tail wagging furiously to propel it along.

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The beach on Rabbit Island


Rabbit Island was our destination for one day trip, a tropical paradise in the Gulf of Thailand, and home to the best beaches in Cambodia. In our first bit of sunbathing since India, we spent a lovely day as some of only a handful of people on the stunning white sand facing out into the turquoise blue ocean. The panorama was capped off by palm trees, distant islands, and a classic rickety bamboo pole jetty that looked amazing silhouetted against the bright sea. One of those distant islands was the Vietnamese territory of Phu Quoc, a mere 15km away but tantalisingly out of reach for the second time on our trip – we nearly went there from Ho Chi Minh City two months ago. We did however visit our first Cambodian geocache, with the chance to drop off a ‘geocoin’ Laura’s been carrying since visiting Spain with her family before we left home.

We had a bit of a panic on the way back when we stopped for lunch while waiting for our boat. It turns out that grilled fish takes quite a while to prepare, and as the seconds ticked down to our boat leaving, our lunch still hadn’t arrived. Fortunately, in true English style we were able to get it converted into a takeaway with which we ran to the departure jetty. The only thing missing was chips – fish and noodles doesn’t quite cut it, although using chopsticks to fillet a fish is always an entertaining exercise!

In our original plans for the festive season, we’d been hoping to rent a place where we could self-cater and have some independence for the first time since we started out. We even had dreams of cooking our own roast! Alas, that was not to be, but instead Mike introduced us to a home from home in the form of the ‘Ny Ny Hotel’, cheap but with a touch of luxury – our room even had a fridge to keep the all important sparkling wine and cheese cool! We had a small incident with scores of bed bugs on the first day, but after relocating to a different room, it was a brilliant place to call home.

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Our Christmas tree made from water bottles and coloured paper. Yes, we're very proud!


For Christmas Day itself, Laura and I both went on a not-so-secret secret santa present buying mission at the market, each with $10 to spend, to great success – purple nail varnish, a pool table, kick-shuttlecock, earrings, bubble mix and even chocolate and a movie rental. I’ll leave it up to you to work out who got what, but no, purple isn’t really my colour! Thanks to a shop selling stripy ski socks, we even had a couple of stockings for the presents themselves. Accompanied by our previously broadcast decorations and tree (made from recycled water bottles), I think it’s fair to say the hotel cleaning staff were impressed at our festive efforts! Although Christmas isn’t marked by Cambodians, there were a fair few decorations and lights around town (even a huge inflatable Santa in Phnom Penh), and, interestingly a surprisingly large number of weddings going on. Weddings here involve big marquees in the street and music blaring through the night – revellers who certainly added to the festive spirt!

No Christmas is complete without feeling you’re going to explode through overeating, and so we went to extra effort to find the biggest Xmas lunch around. I haven’t eaten so much in a very long time – there was so much food we were given two plates each! Thank you Blissful Guesthouse!

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Christmas lunch, across two plates

Amid the chocolate and presents it can sometimes be a little hard to remember that Christmas is a time for family and friends to come together. We had a lovely catch up with our families via Skype before, during and after the festivities. It was also really fantastic to able to spend time in person with Mike, as an old friend of mine and a new friend of Laura’s. He’s out in Cambodia working to set up a non-profit project, FotoKhmer, which is still in development so I won’t let the secret out just yet. Needless to say, when it does happen (and I’m sure it will – look out for more later this year) it will be a really exciting and positive venture. Mike has spent many previous years working with photography in Cambodia, and across South East Asia and has brilliant plans. Although we sadly weren’t able to actually kick things off while we were there, I hope to be able to come back in the future and lend a hand doing exactly that. Mike – sorry the real Christmas present is slightly delayed!

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Mike and Laura at the riverside. Yes, I only have photos of Mike with sunsets in!

Our final night in town was New Year’s Eve, which we marked in style by eating a delicious dinner, going to a bar for the first time in, well, months, and then popping champagne at midnight and singing Auld Lang Syne badly while watching fireworks go off by the river – and occasionally right by us due to their somewhat unorthodox approach for launching them – by hand!

We’re both hoping for a New Year of more flying fish, friendships and full plates ahead – and all before the Olympics! Bring on 2012!

Simon

Happy New Year

From our position here in the future, we’d like to let you you know that 2012 is fantastic, and wish everyone back home a very Happy New Year.

We’ve just returned from celebrating the festivities at the riverfront here in Kampot. Tomorrow we head on to Phnom Penh and onwards on our journey through Cambodia, Thailand and then finally Malaysia.

We were going to give you a kazoo rendition of Auld Lang Syne, but, well, it’s a bit late here now and we don’t want to wake the neighbours.

Happy New Year to all!
Simon & Laura xx

That sinking feeling

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Laura and I at the Khon Phapheng Falls, the largest in SE Asia


Sabaidee! We’re at the Laos/Cambodia border, having just crossed on our way south to Phnom Phenh. It’s baking hot, and we’re all sheltering in the shade by some food stalls while we wait for the rest of our busload of people to come across.

The border itself was a masterpiece of red tape and petty corruption. First we stamped out of Laos, with a $2 unofficial ‘stamping fee’ each. Red ink sure is expensive! We then traipsed over to Cambodia, where there was a mandatory health check ($1, you hand in a form and they quickly point a temperature gun at you). Finally, we got stamped in to Cambodia, ($2 ‘tea money’). This is after we’d already sorted our visa out in advance!

There are a few folks who nobly resisted paying the charges – a couple who apparently took a series of photos of the border guards obviously extorting money. We heard them shouting (which is never a good idea here) that they were ‘going to call the Dutch police’, although I’m not quite sure what jurisdiction they think they’d have! According to a guy who’s just come through, they managed to get through in the end without paying, but the border folks would only return their passports after they deleted the photos.

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The Laos side of the border. On the left, the new border post, on the right the slightly less impressive current one!


We’ve spent the past few days in Si Phan Don, otherwise known as 4,000 islands. It’s an archipelago in the Mekong river, just on the Laos side of the border, the islands are home to a set of bamboo bungalows that epitomise the Lao moniker ‘Land of the lotus eaters’. It’s a place where being horizontal is the customary way to spend your time – and who are we to fly in the face of tradition?

Or so we thought! It turned out that we had a somewhat more active few days than we’d planned. When we first arrived on our isle of choice, Don Det, we ended up on a 2km trek to find accommodation with a twin room. Although the walk was a bit draining in the tropical midday heat, we were pretty happy with our choice – a new place overlooking the river where we were the only guests and it was very quiet. However, we hadn’t quite anticipated this meant each day we did at least one hour long round trip into town at the other end of the island. We also got in some additional exercise sightseeing to check out the legacy of the French’s use of the islands. A couple of small islands are not the usual place for a country’s first railway, but the French were determined, and built a 5 km track across two bigger islands (with a bridge between the two), as well as a couple of piers to load and unload goods at each end, and a rusting locomotive. Quite why they didn’t just sail along the river instead of the elaborate engineering, we don’t know. It is a testament to Laos’ non-participation in the industrial revolution that the railway was abandoned when the French left after WWII; until five years ago the country had no track whatsoever, and after Thai effort, the country is now the proud owner of a huge 3km of track, which then heads off into Thailand. Now that’s a miniature railway!

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It was us in there the day before


Buoyed by the success of our waterborne experience in Ha Long Bay, we signed up for a day’s kayaking in the Mekong. Setting off early in the morning in a flotilla of six yellow plastic boats, we paddled downstream to (but not actually down) the impressive Tat Somphamit waterfalls, which the locals believe trap spirits as they go over. We then splashed on through rapids and across the Mekong to a spot of lunch in Cambodia (no passport or red tape required, fortunately), before re-embarking on the water to see dolphins.
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The Tat Somphamit waterfalls


Perhaps it was the karma from eating tuna the previous day and not checking it was dolphin friendly, but as we got closer to the middle of the river (and this is a very wide river, perhaps 1 km), we had the feeling something wasn’t quite right. In other circumstances one might call the ‘impending sense of doom’* we had a ‘sinking feeling’, and as it was, that was just about right! Laura and I are not experts in kayaking, but we did realise something was wrong when the water was quickly high enough to wash over the side of the craft and all of my lower body was submerged! The swishing sound of the hollow cavity below us quickly filling with water didn’t exactly inspire confidence either. Fortunately, this was the perfect opportunity for us to put into practice our speed paddling skills, and we made it back to the dry land of Cambodia just before we found out the hard way what it would be like to be in a yellow submarine! In a comic discovery, it turned out that the plug had come out of our kayak, and we were half full of water. We’re not sure why they have a removable plug but at least it meant we could get the water back out again! After 15 minutes of emptying and a repair using a crisp packet, a twig, and some elbow grease that Heath Robinson would be proud of, we were off again.

This stretch of the river is famous for its population of rare Irrawaddy freshwater dolphins, and having refreshed our luck through the near-sinking, we were fortunate enough to catch sight of quite a few of them. This time we drifted on the surface, and every now and again one of the silver-coloured creatures would appear, sometimes just a head popping up for air, but quite often we saw a graceful grey arc, their distinctive curved side fin sticking straight up as they dived back down. Sadly their numbers are diminishing, mainly due to various government dam projects – but refreshingly, not fishermen, who revere them as protectors from crocodiles. Fortunately we didn’t see any of those!

We all bundled into the back of a large vehicle (more truck-truck than tuk-tuk) for the journey back, stopping en route at the Khon Phapheng Falls, the largest in South East Asia by volume, and probably the biggest we’ll see until Iguazu in South America next year. With ice creams in our hand, we watched the millions of litres pouring down over the rocks and celebrated a successful outing, with just enough drama to make it exciting.

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This woman was sunbathing, and the water buffalo was in the water. Brilliantly, it then decided to sit right next to her, much to everyone's amusement!


And so we leave Laos! It’s a place we’ve really fallen in love with, a pace of life that’s refreshingly calm, with an innocence and friendliness like nowhere else we’ve been.

It takes a little while to adapt anywhere, and Laos was no exception. We’d soon coined the term ‘Laos option’ to refer to a quirk we’ve found across the country – places frequently advertise things that don’t exist. This might be a guesthouse with a sign saying ‘vacancies’, only for you to trudge up to the desk and be told ‘all full’, or the bus ticket the travel agent doesn’t sell in spite of the big poster behind him, or most common of all, the non-existent restaurant menu items – for example papaya salad, the ‘national dish’ apparently as well hidden as the Ho Chi Minh Trail! This was confirmed by one guesthouse owner, who we overheard telling some friends how her chef had insisted on putting papaya salad on the menu despite never having papayas in stock. His reasoning? ‘Once they’ve sat down to eat, they won’t go elsewhere.’ So perhaps not quite so naive a country after all!

We only wish we had longer here – its been a lovely few weeks, and we’ll certainly be back for a second helping at some point in the future, even if the papaya salad isn’t available.

Simon

* also a side effect of Lariam, the anti-malarial drug we’re taking. I don’t think sinking is on the list though!

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A sunset silhouette over Don Det