CambodiaCambodia

Published on January 13, 2016 ⋅ 12min read

Roots clambered over weathered stone, clinging desperately to fragments destined to fall. The once smooth walls were riddled with pockmarks, a scarred facade that had endured more than a millennium of wind and rain. Moss and ivy painted a skein of yellow and green over this face of grey, while debris littered the ground, remnants of ruins which had long since collapsed under the weight of too much stone. And all over, like flies swarming a carcass, there were tourists.

Siem Reap was home to both the start, and the end, of my journey through Cambodia. It began with a sunrise, amidst a crowd of thousands, all gathered to witness the sun creep up from behind the horizon and over the ruins of Angkor Wat.

We, just Salome, Stephanie and I, rose early, around 4:30am, in order to catch a Tuk Tuk to the ruins. We were fortunate to arrive early enough that we got our tickets fairly quickly — in the short time we were waiting, the queues grew exponentially. In almost complete darkness, we stumbled our way onto the uneven, stony bridge towards the ruin. Stephanie, prepared for every situation, pulled out a head torch which helped immensely in guiding us over the treacherous crossing. Later, when we emerged in daylight, we discovered that right next to us there had been a huge crack in the bridge, to which we were all completely oblivious. Ankles could easily have been broken!

The problem with arriving early is the unavoidable wait until the actual event; in this case, almost 2 hours. As we stood in the darkness, a hubbub of conversation filled the chill morning air, people chattering excitedly as they too awaited the sunrise to come. Every now and again, a local hawker walked past with a menu, asking in broken English, “You want coffee? Breakfast?” The crowds grew around us, milling and shifting as the multitudes sought to get the best spot for the sunrise.

I’d like to say, “and then it happened!”, but really, it was far too gradual for that. Over the span of an hour, the sky ever so slowly brightened, a diffuse orange glow rising behind the silhouettes of the five towers of Angkor Wat. A sea of outstretched hands clutching cell phones were raised up before me, all seeking to capture the moment, to capture the sunrise which, in all honesty, was really not that impressive. I held my DSLR in my hands, and as I stood waiting for the light to be just right, I suddenly felt truly disillusioned with my own photography. Why bother, when there were a thousand other identical photos being snapped right at that moment? What more could my photos offer, that theirs couldn’t? And so I turned my camera upon the crowds, upon the people itching to get a front row spot next to the lake, upon the people sitting atop their partner’s shoulders, in order to try get clear of the outstretched arms and selfie sticks, and upon the girls with their backs to the sunrise, lining themselves up for the perfect morning selfie. I ended up taking more photos of the people taking photos of Angkor Wat, than of Angkor Wat itself. And I daren’t say that the photos I took were any less generic, but for me, they captured the true experience of the sunrise.

After a brief visit back to the guesthouse for breakfast, we returned to the ruins, this time for a proper guided tour. It was a hot, sweaty, laborious day of walking. The heat was oppressive, and with each break I was seeking the shade, for what little reprieve it offered. By midmorning I was struggling to keep my eyes open, so tired was I from our morning escapade. However, I got my second wind around lunchtime and it carried me through the rest of the day. We visited several different ruins, each quite different in style and layout, before finally ending with Angkor Wat. It was strange to revisit the temple in the light, it was almost as if we were visiting an entirely different place! There was so much that had been cloaked in darkness, so much we were oblivious to earlier that morning, that I barely recognised it. It’s a remarkable construct, lining up exactly with the compass directions. I stood on the nexus stone, in the centre of the temple, and you could look out along the entire path leading up to the temple, all perfectly symmetrical.

Upon returning to the guesthouse in the late afternoon, most of the group decided to try and Escape the Room, a puzzle solving activity where you need to figure out clues to open a safe which contains the key to your freedom. It turns out having seven people, with no organisation, ripping apart a room in search of clues, is not conducive to escaping quickly. However, with a little bit of aid (I say a little, because we really didn’t understand the “help” the Cambodian lady said to us over the walkie talkie), we finally emerged just over an hour later.

Our next stop was in Battambang, where we stayed with a family in a farming village. On the way there, we had the pleasure of riding on a Bamboo train. Seating four, the train was little more than a small bamboo platform on two axles, with an engine stuck on the back. About half way down the incredibly rickety track (and I mean incredibly rickety, it would sure as hell not pass any railroad inspections, as almost all of the track joins didn’t even line up) we encountered half a dozen trains heading the other way — a slight problem when there is only one track. We slowed to a stop, hopped off the train, and to my surprise, watched as the driver dismantled the train right before our eyes, tossing the dismantled parts into the grass beside the track. If I was unsure of the safety of the train before, then there was no doubt about it now. Still, we finished the trip incident-free, whizzing and juddering through the Cambodian countryside in a rather novel fashion.

After the bamboo train, the group split up, some opting to visit the Killing Cave and Bat cave, while others chose to go straight to the village where we would be staying. Karl, Fredrik, Stephanie, Eugene and I clambered into a Tuk Tuk and set off for the Killing Cave mountain. It was a long climb, but well worth it for the view, and the hauntingly eerie cave, into which more than ten thousand people were thrown to die, after being tortured, during the Pol Pot regime. As dusk drew near, we descended the mountain to await the awakening of the bats. Boy, was I unprepared for the steady stream of bats that flew out from the cave. For a whole fifteen minutes, amidst a flutter of wings and a cacophony of high pitched squeals, tiny black bats raced across the darkening sky, hungrily searching for a feast moths and mosquitos. Like a wave washing gently upon the shore, the stream of bats swayed to and fro. A soft susurration of awe escaped the onlookers below, occasionally punctured by the sharp toot of a Tuk Tuk’s horn, a harsh sound that sent a visible jolt through the mass of bats, as if they’d been struck by lightning.

At the advice of our local guide, we left the cave entrance before the bats had all departed, and headed out to the main road to watch them as they flew out across the rice fields. As the bats drew further out from the cave mouth, they separated into swarms that swept across the landscape, with each swarm veering in a different direction. It was a most remarkable sight, and for me, something I was glad to have the opportunity to witness.

An uneventful night of card games at the homestay and we were en route to Sihanoukville, where our Stray family would hop off and spend New Year’s Eve. Per Mai Tai’s recommendation, we hired motorbikes and journeyed out of the city towards a remote village and, yes, yet another waterfall. However, before I even made it out of the city, I ran into a problem; my first blowout. My rear tire popped, with a bang and a fishtail, I slowed to a stop. Just great. Fortunately, Fredrik and Karl heard the tire blow, so they pulled over before racing ahead to stop the others. And also fortunately, there was a repair shop just down the road and around the corner. An hour and $10 later, we were back on the road — and what a bumpy road it became. If my tire hadn’t of popped earlier, it surely would have later. We had to turn off the main road out of the city and ride along a very uneven, dirt track, in order to reach the waterfall. As we were near the back of the group, we ended up eating dust, no matter how far back we stayed. Mmmm, delicious.

To Kirsty: I may have disputed my ginger beard before but, after half an hour on that road, it was as orange as a mandarin.

We spent the rest of the day chilling under a refreshing natural shower, and lying about in hammocks, before driving back to Sihanoukville. We hadn’t considered the time at all, which happened to perfectly coincide with rush hour. While the traffic was certainly nowhere near the same level as Bangkok, it was still a rather nervous journey back to our guesthouse, especially considering Mai Tai had to leave us to navigate our way back ourselves, when none of us really knew where to go. However, we all survived unscathed — and we didn’t even get lost!

With a growing hunger and rising excitement for the night to come, we headed down to the beach for dinner and drinks. It was crazy. Thousands of people swarmed like ants along the main beach of Sihanoukville. All along the water’s edge, hundreds of fireworks were constantly being set off. Come midnight, hundreds turned to thousands, as everyone crammed along the shore to welcome the new year with a bang and a fizzle. The sky was speckled with a sea of multi-coloured lanterns, wishes of good fortune and health lit up and sent skyward to the heavens. We sent one up as a group, wishing all good travels wherever their journeys may take them. It was a magical night, and a New Year like no other. As the clock tolled one, it was time to hit the beachside bars and celebrate the year now gone. The DJs were absolutely awful, always applying effects and speaking over the music when the song would be reaching its climax, but the atmosphere was jubilant enough that it didn’t really matter.

Salome was completely and utterly hammered, however I’ll spare her any embarrassment by not going into details. Needless to say, at some point during the night, she got lost. One moment, the whole group was with us, the next — gone. Stephanie, Eugene and I, assumed they would return, but as the night wore on, we figured people must have headed back to the guesthouse. We decided to call it a night too, until we arrived to find the keys still at reception — no one had yet returned. Concerned by Salome’s state of sobriety, or lack thereof, the three of us resolved to find her. The next hour and a half was spent combing the beach, to no avail. We found Noreena and Fredrik, but no Salome. Hungry, and growing increasingly tired, we gave up and headed back to the guesthouse once more. Stephanie and I stopped for a shish kebab to ease our hunger pangs, and of course, while we were sitting there enjoying our meal, who stumbled by but Salome, leaning heavily and drunkenly on some random man. I jumped up, ran across the street, and pulled her away from Mr Sleaze McGeez. We had accomplished Mission Almost Impossible: Find Salome and, as the sun crept slowly over the horizon, we could finally sleep.

After a day of recovery, we left the mainland and caught a boat to Koh Rong Samloem, an absolutely beautiful island off the coast of Cambodia. It is, quite simply, what most people would consider paradise. White sand beaches and crystal clear waters stretched out before us under a canvas of stunning blue sky. With nary a cloud to mar the sky’s blue expanse, nor offer any respite from the relentless sun, we baked and bathed away the afternoon, truly relaxing for the first time on my trip. Come night time, we were in for a treat.

I suggested to Karl that we should go for a midnight swim, or at least, a swim in the dark. Neither of us were keen to stay up until midnight as we were both still quite tired, but when it’s pitch black at 8pm, you can achieve the same effect, so post-dinner we donned our swimming togs once more, and waded out to sea. None of the others were keen to come swimming with us… although that didn’t last long. Once we’d waded far away from the shore (the water was really shallow, it took like 200m to get to neck depth) we noticed that we could see our feet moving through the water. Strange, given it was night. We splashed about some more, further illuminating our surroundings. Bioluminescent plankton filled the sea.

Nature never ceases to amaze. Floating in the sea, in waters as still as a millpond — not a breath of wind to stir the air — surrounded by glowing, winking lights of pale blue, it was as if the ocean were a shimmering reflection of the starry sky above. With every movement of your hand trailed by a streak of light, blazing trails that cut through the dark waters like a hail of meteors, you couldn’t help but be entranced. To lay back amidst the tranquil waters, and to gaze upon the heavens, one could not help but contemplate the enormity of the universe; how we are but fleeting moments in a vast ocean of history. It beggars comprehension. We are so small, so insignificant. Like ants underfoot, ignored by the steady march of time.

We spent another day on Koh Rong Samloem, which included a hike across the island to the stunning Sunset Beach, we took the boat back to the mainland in order to rendezvous with the Stray tour once more, as we would be hopping back on early next morning. From Sihanoukville, we travelled to Kampot, a small, sleepy riverside town. We enjoyed an afternoon of wandering the town, before jumping on a riverboat and embarking upon a sunset cruise.

Then we were bound for another island, Koh Tunsay. While not as beautiful as Koh Rong Samloem, it was still very nice, and we whiled away the afternoon playing card games on the beach. Come night, we all slipped into the water for another dazzling display of bioluminescence. I awoke the next day to find I had lost both my phone and my watch — a frustrating, but educational experience in how to not be so attached to materialistic possessions. I think they may have got nicked from the bungalow we were staying in, however I’ll never really know — they just disappeared at some point in time.

Arriving in Phnom Penh after a long day’s drive, we first visited the Killing Fields, a very sombre and haunting experience. Listening to the audio guide, while you walked around the mass graves, your eyes could not help but well up with tears, as you heard tales of babies being held by their legs and having their heads smashed against a tree — right before their mother’s eyes. It was too sad, simply too tragic, that after a point, I had to stop listening.

We went straight from the Killing Fields to S-21, a complex which used to be a high school, that was turned into a torture prison during the Pol Pot regime. Where the Killing Fields were tragic, this place was spooky. Not spooky in the traditional sense, I suppose, but they had a lot of visual displays that became difficult to digest. In particular, walking through one of the buildings with nothing but black and white mugshots of victims staring straight at you… It really gets to you. Some were wide-eyed in panic, others teary eyed, while most had lost that spark, that will to live, as they knew they’d reached the end of the line. It really was heartbreaking.

One of the places I found that really spoke to me, was walking up and down the stairwells in the buildings which used to contain classrooms. I could almost hear the children running down the stairs to go for lunch, hear the laughter and talk of school friends. It felt so eerily familiar to my days at high school… and then you reflect on what the place became… how could anyone do such a thing?

Phnom Penh marked the end of my trip with Salome, and most of the Stray tour group, with whom I’d been travelling for almost an entire month! As the others headed onto Vietnam, Stephanie and I finished our tour by returning to Siem Reap for one night, before crossing the border back into Thailand. In Siem Reap, I managed to visit the circus, something I had wanted to do the first time, but had missed out due to it being fully booked. It was quite good, but having seen Cirque du Soleil, it’s hard to compare. Similar to how Dreamworld and Rainbow’s End just can’t compare to Disneyland. Damn it Mum, I did it in the wrong order again!

While my time in Cambodia was relatively brief, in comparison to Laos, it was filled with a handful of magical moments, all of which were definite highlights of my trip in South East Asia. As my 6 weeks in Asia now comes to an end, I am truly glad I chose to embark upon this adventure. I have met a load of fantastic friends, complete with awesome experiences to boot.

Now I head to Paris, where the European chapter of my journey begins…