I’m not going to lie, I’m tired. I have been eaten alive by bed bugs and sand flies. I really considered skinning myself to alleviate the pain. I need a rest, I knew this feeling was looming but didn’t believe it would happen to me.
As I left Da Lat my bike was packed and I was hauling ass back to Ho Chi Minh. I love riding motorcycles. It is such a different experience traveling. In a car, bus, or train you have a window into world around you. On a bike you’re in it. You’re covered in the smells, dirt, smog and environment. You understand why everyone else is wearing a mask while riding their scooters. It isn’t comfortable, it isn’t easy, and it’s dangerous but fuck it’s fun.
I rode a similar route back to the city but it felt as if I was seeing all of it for the first time. I’m learning the bike and it rides so much better after maintaining and fixing a few things.
I made record speed back to town and got comfortable for the night. I had a checklist of activities which needed to be completed before morning. Ship back an original Viet Cong, hand painted, propaganda poster, find rain pants, get my license, and stock-up on various supplies. I spent the past few months shedding weight off my bag but now I have more than I started.
The time at the DMV was a breeze. Holding my newly issued license I was filled with a sense of accomplishment. I realize I only needed money and a corrupt government official but damn it felt good.
Rain pants were an issue. They only have two seasons here, rainy and dry; they only use ponchos. Those cheap plastic ponchos that you buy from a street vendor in the city. I finally find an outdoor shop on my way to get a donut.
In the morning I start my journey to Cambodia. Slowly I see a drop in western tourist riding motorbikes until I was the only one about an hour from the Cambodian border. M-150 is my best friend - its their red bull and 5x more potent.
I arrive at the border much earlier than I was expecting. As soon as I park my bike I am swarmed by people selling sim cards and offering to exchange my Vietnamese Dong.
Upon entering I see a long line of western tourist who have just existed their bus. The line is long and stagnant. I first need to have my passport stamped with a Vietnamese exist stamp. Then I need to enter Cambodia.
After a few seconds a man approaches offering his teams services. He explains for $5 he will help me get me the exit visa. Once I have the exit stamp his buddy will help me enter Cambodia. I give him the cash and he cuts to the front of the line, places $1 in my passport and hands it to the border guard. I have my passport back within a minute of handing it to him. Immediately I am being shuffled past a group of slack jawed tourist. I could hear the mumbled “what the ….” remarks as I pushed past the line.
With my new friends we push our bikes across the border and arrive at Cambodian border control. I hand them my passport and they complete the entry forms. Again pushed through to the front of each line.
I need to enter the country alone. I am handed back my passport, complete with $1 nestled within the pages. I am placed at the front of the line and without eye contact my paperwork is processed by the guard. I grab my bike and enter the country. Total time saved: 4 hours. Total cost: $15 + Visa fees.
The Cambodian border is a mess. A very stark contrast to the Vietnamese border and roads. It reminded me of the Kenyan/Tanzania border. I am the only westerner on a bike but I pretend I know what I am doing and continue riding.
I was not prepared for what immediately followed. My phone didn’t work once crossing the border. With my service went my directions. I am riding slow and looking for a sim card shop along the dusty highway.
Something catches my attention. Out of the corner of my eye, on the right hand side, I see him. About 3 feet from the edge of the road in a dusty ditch laid a man. He was stripped naked, lying facedown and covered in a thick layer of dirt. Without being too graphic, I could see some moisture coming from his face and onto the ground where he laid. Due to the limpness of his body and the condition of his face, I knew he was dead. Stripped naked and dumped on the side of the road.
Slowing down as I approached and the adrenaline started the flow, I did a double take. I considered stopping but took note of the people around me. Everyone was business as usual stepping over him as they went about their day.
I made eye contact with a man dressed in all black, looked back at the body, then back to him. I could feel him staring at me. Channeling as if to say, this is nothing to concern yourself with. I twisted the throttle, quickly doubling the posted speed signs and didn’t stop for 3 hours.
At that time I remembered a conversation with a friend during my first time at burning man. I remembered his experience in Cambodia and recalled something he said. “Life is cheap in Cambodia” and this was my first experience in understanding what he meant.
While there was no organized fight in Cambodia. Cambodia was impacted greatly by the Vietnam war. There was what was considered the “Secret War” in Cambodia and Laos. Which was the catalyst for decades of civil unrest which lead to the current state of affairs in the country.
I find it interesting what others notice while traveling within the countries we meet. Some might say the happiness of the children, others the food conditions, or the organization of various processes. These seem obvious and at this point, I am accustom to these differences. I find it more interesting the things that I deem as obvious which no one else seems to pickup on.
As I am screaming past farming village after farming village and their rice paddies, two things are glaringly obvious. The amount of construction in seemingly remote areas and the cars which I am sharing the two lane roads.
The first, all the construction equipment is branded in Chinese characters. The second, all the civilian cars are the same. On the 3 hour ride to Phonm Penh, there are certainly the scooters I would expect but it was the cars that struct me as odd.
If it wasn’t a tourist buses or Chinese branded construction vehicle, it was a 2001 or newer sedan and SUVs. 2001 - present Toyota Camry, Lexus RX300 or Toyota Highlander made up 85% of the cars on the road. There are no old cars. No old Russian or Indian beaters. The only older cars I saw were literally made of wood. An ox cart fitted with metal and wood engine mounts and a bench seat. Imagine an Amish buggy with an engine where the horse would normally be tethered.
I thought, strange. One, why would Toyota or Lexus be importing so many vehicles into this country. Two, how were these farming people experiencing such a rapid economic growth to afford these cars? The area around the roads looked like abandon farm country. The cars on the road looked like middle to upper class soccer mom traffic found in any suburb within the United States.
It didn’t add up.
Then something familiar caught my eye. A Jesus fish. Yes the Jesus fish bumper decal. The one from Seinfeld and the one that blankets cars in parking lots at places of Christian worship on Sunday mornings.
97% of the Cambodian population are practicing Buddhist. Leaving .4% of the population as practicing Christians. It stuck out and while plausible, I couldn’t believe a Jesus fish made it all this way to Cambodia. I was left pondering, how?
A little while longer, my spidey sense tingled again. A dealership decal on the back of a 2005 Toyota Highlander. The same kind of dealership decal placed on car trunks or tailgates by the dealerships in the states. Adorning your car with dealership pride and free advertisement from its place of purchase.
The SUV was complete with a Curry Honda decal with the dealership website www.CurryHondaGA.com. I followed the link and there is no Atlanta Georgia in Cambodia.
Now how does a Toyota from Georgia make it to Cambodia. Well the answer I found is in the car “Grey Market” of Cambodia. Meaning, it was not imported via the manufacturer but from a private third party.
So maybe an enterprising Cambodian is exporting the used cars of the states. Seems plausible but I am not believing it.
A used 2005 Highlander can be purchased in Atlanta for ~$7500. The purchase price of a similar car is listed in Phenm Pehn is between $16,000 - $19,000. That is a very, very, attractive margin. I get searching, with margins this high, I would be insane not to at least try.
Shipping a car from the port of Savanah to Cambodia costs ~$2200. $7500 + $2200 = $9700. With a market price averaging $17,000, still an incredible return. What’s the catch? Customs Tariffs. The value of imports are determined by the Ministry of Economics and Finance. The value is based on a slew of variables and includes model, weight, and displacement of the engine.
Meaning the Cambodian government sets the import value the vehicle and it may be higher or lower than the purchase price I have used. They place a 115.325% tax compromised by Custom Duties (CD) + Special Tax (ST) + VAT on the value they determine.
Let’s look at the math again:
Take this math with a grain of salt but I am confident that it is directionally accurate. Keep in mind the import tax is based on what they deem the value of the vehicle (which I couldn’t locate, yet). It also doesn’t include the tax for sale of the vehicle in Cambodia or if Uncle Sam comes knocking. It doesn’t make sense.
When dealing with maximizing profits, you must lower your initial costs. If you could get the car for free, the profit margin is extremely attractive.
I recalled a story my dad told me about his time in Bosnia back in the early 2000’s. He was driving along and was cut off by a civilian Hummer H1, my favorite car at the time. It was strange that such an expensive car was in such a poor war torn country. But the most interesting part was the Hummer still had it’s California plate on the back. It was stolen, put in a container and arrived in its new home before the rich guy in California could complete his insurance paperwork.
Cambodia is ranked 156/171 on the transparency corruption rankings. Cash is still king and after decades of civil unrest and poverty corruption is alive and well.
Now, I don’t know for sure, how there is such a large population of these vehicles decorated with Texas A&M stickers, US Marine stickers, or dealer badges from the United States. I just find it curious that the most popular cars here, are constantly at the top of the most stolen vehicle lists around the western world, within a country with such a high level of corruption.
I arrive in Phonm Pehn and honestly, I like it. It has a nice mix of economic development with the lawlessness of South East Asia. I battle traffic using sidewalks and splitting lanes as I have become accustom to and reach my hostel.
The hostel is situated along with riverbank and within the popular tourist destinations. Cambodia uses USD as their main currency. ATMs dispense it and every shop advertises prices in USD. Meals are within the $2.50 - $5 range and while it is in the ball park of other countries thus far, it feels more expensive due to the use to USD. I feel like I am getting a bargain spending hundreds or thousands in local currency on meals but it shakes out to about the same.
I walk the night markets and night life areas in search of food and a watch for my motorcycle. The food in Cambodia is ok. They don’t have the bread of Vietnam and seems there aren’t many Cambodian dishes. Most stalls serve Thia, Vietnamese, or Chinese food. A lot of western food too, a Burger King is a few steps away from my room.
Merchants within the night market sell the normal wares, knock off clothing, jewelry, and bags. I remember a school trip to New York when I was after some “good fake” Oakleys and the girls were after “good fake” hand bags. Every once in a while hearing about being taken down an ally in China town to get the good stuff. Everything here is a good stuff, I can’t tell the difference and while not an expert, not sure many could.
All the stuff we use home is made here by these families. North Face, Louis Vuitton, and Adidas don’t own the factories, they outsource it. Some Cambodian, or Vietnamese national owns the factory and negotiates a contract to produce the goods to certain standards. The “real” good are produced during the day to complete the negotiated item quotas. At night, once the quotas are reached, the night crew comes in. Using the same fabric, machines, and procedures they create these “fakes”. Different “quality” sure, but it’s 15% of the US MSRP and no one can tell.
When asked how I know this bag won’t fall apart she shares how they tell. Specifically for the North Face bag, on the tag is a marking. Within the tag is the usual literature, where it was made, materials, etc. But this bag as an additional tag, there is a hologram sticker. This sticker displays that while not “real” it was made in the same factory with the same team and to the same standards. A similar tell is somewhere within every piece of merchandise.
It is glaringly obvious that not everyone is getting a piece of the corruption pie. A Rolls Royce is parked outside of the market next to naked children playing in a pile of trash. Their mother is close and sleeping under some debris on the back side of the dumpster. Pan handling is very common, something I haven’t seen since India. What India didn’t have or wasn’t as obvious if it did was the prostitution and sex tourism.
A lot of older English and American men in their 60s with young, young girls and ladyboys. I realize I am not using the correct politically correct terminology and please don’t attack me for it. I mean no disrespect just trying to document what I have seen.
Everywhere you walk Tuk-tuk drivers offer “Weed, ice, girls” openly and within earshot of the ever present police. The police are paid off and the tuk-tuk drivers are paid a commission for every sale they make. Prostitutes are openly walking the streets and offering companionship for cheap. Complementing the western men and trying to make a sale. And they make them. Too often I would be with a group of guys who would run off with a ladyboy or young girl. Not my cup of tea but it becomes offensively easy and develops into a sense or normalcy.
In talking to locals and prostitutes I am reminded about how cheap life is here. In speaking with a lady boy and after making it very clear we were not interested in her services we asked her a question. While we understood that unfortunately due to any number of circumstances many women are forced into a life of prostitution, how did they find themselves in their current situation. The answer was a lot more diabolical and horrible than I could have imagined.
She and her friends were young, call it between 14-16. Wearing dresses, makeup and while physically looked like girls, their facial structures were androgynous. They shared that they were there together and from similar regions or villages. They will never return home because when they were even younger their families had sold them to some criminal sex organization and pimps.
Woman prostitutes make more money and they were born male. While they were children their families would inject them with estrogen and other hormones to help change their development while entering puberty. After years of hormone injections they have altered their appearances and in turn increased their sale value. The family keeps the profits and they are sold into a life of sexual slavery. They were clearly high smoking cigarettes laced with methamphetamine provided by their pimps and owners. This is the only life they have known and unfortunately mostly likely will ever know.
I am left feeling for these young people having any possibility of a better life ripped from them before they had a chance. How horrible for their parents to take that from them. How terrible the first person with this idea and the following trend.
I am also left wondering about the parents, what are they like? What set of circumstances lead them to inject their child with a strange substance and altering the entire course of their life and future in the process. There is no going back once starting down that path. Was life really that horrible and abysmal that this was their last option? Or were they overcome by greed and saw this as a way to quickly earn money? Or was this a decision made by an unknown actor in retaliation or in repayment of a debt? I’m curious but terrified at reaching the answer.
There is one common denominator here that we can easily focus on; it’s a simple economic exercise. There is no need for a supply without a demand. While I, and I would imagine most men, have been to strip club, I have never paid for sex or hired a prostitute. And while this feels like a natural “line in the sand” for most men I know, I feel like a minority here at times. Especially with any group of single older western men.
This region is like prostitution Disney World for these guys. Spending weeks, months, or years here with a budget specifically for hookers. Their stories vary and at times I feel for them.
In every tourist area there is a normal “backpackers” area but here there is also an unregulated, seedy, red light district where these guys flock. Walk past any bar and you will see a group sitting at a table drinking beers with 1-3 girls hanging on them. Renting hotel rooms and apartments for their accommodation. Many of the hotels checking the ID’s of the girls in an attempt to see that they are of age.
But then there is a different subgroup within the prostitution ecosystem. These guys came for companionship and have deep pockets to purchase it. The most similar relationship dynamic I would compare it to would be a “Sugar Daddy”. Their stories are different but follow a common theme.
It might start with decades of being a single workaholic, or divorce, or death of their spouse. Years of searching for companionship spirals into a suicidal depression. Ending with a one-way ticket to the region hoping they can buy what they have searched for so many years.
Very easily they find a new partner, usually much younger, who comes from a poor area and looking for someone to take care of them. It’s a transactional relationship and the purchasing power of their Pounds, Dollars, or Euros is much greater than in their home country.
I saw an western wheelchair bound old man with what I imagine was his wife and her 15 family members at dinner. Maybe it was family dinner? Maybe his condition prevented him from protecting himself and she was taking advantage? I’ll never know but I am sure there are situations where either or both party is taking advantage of the circumstances.
The girl gets financial security and the guy gets the companionship they have been searching. Is it love? I’m not involved and can’t say. Who am I to judge any relationship. I don’t know if/when the money runs out if the companionship ends simultaneously. I also don’t know if either party is actually happy. I know I’ve seen this back home disguised as love and not sure it is so different. It is just more obvious with the openly transactional environmental contrast.
Within the museums of Vietnam I started to learn about the complexity of the Vietnam War. I recall Cambodia and Laos being mentioned in history class but grouped it into fighting Communism. The USA needed to stop the spread and I guess these countries were next.
Two popular, I hate the use the word attractions but two popular tourist attractions in Phonm Pehn are the Killing Fields and Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum AKA S-21.
When the US was fighting in Vietnam Cambodia was run by Norodom Sihnouk who was known as the “King Prince” by the Cambodian people. While it was a one-party government for nearly 20 years history says he was liked by the people. He was also friendlier towards communist countries, particularly China and wasn’t a fan of the US and their anti-communist allies.
History is muddy and winners write history but this was an issue for the US. Cambodia and the port of Sihanoukville was used to supply the Viet Cong with supplies. This was a problem for the war and while their was no direct conflict with Cambodia, the US dropped 2.7m tons of bombs on a country roughly the size of Colorado, over the course of 14 months. In comparison the Allies dropped 2m tons of bombs in all of WWII.
This didn’t stop the flow of supplies and in 1970 a Cambodian military coup with US support over threw the government and put the Khmer Republic in power under Lon Nol. The US provided military and financial aid to the newly developed government until 1973 when they formally pulled out of Vietnam.
The country was under civil war with various Vietnamese and Cambodian factions fighting for control of the country. The biggest threat being the Khmer Rouge, an idealist Communist group headed by Pol Pot. The farmers and peasants of Cambodia had been bombed by the US Air Force destroying their crops and creating unrest and hate which drove them into the arms of the waiting Khmer Rouge.
In 1975 the Khmer Republic ran out of bullets and collapsed. Quickly the Khmer Rouge were able to capture Phonm Penh with the support of the Cambodian people. They preached a government for the people which the peasants and farmers were the most prized citizens. It focused on agriculture and self sustainability from the capitalist imperialist.
On April 17th 1975 Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge had control of the country. That same day the Khmer Rouge alerted everyone in Phonm Penh that the Americans were coming back to bomb the city. Everyone needed to leave the city to be safe from the bombing. The citizens were told they could come back to their homes in 2-3 days. They marched the people for three days and relocated them into various locations in the country side to commune farming work camps.
Overnight the Khmer Rouge destroyed all currency and aspects of the economy, any foreign influence, schools and learning institutions, religion, and confiscated all personal property. They destroyed all previous Cambodian culture and were starting at year 0. They were motivated by a primitive version of Communism and were not concerned about any transition time.
Once the people were relocated to the communes the citizens were categorized in one of two groups “New People” and “Old People”. New People were the intellectuals and those sympathetic to foreign interests or the previous government, those with soft hands, wore glasses, and above all were not farmers. Old People were the farmers and peasant class. They were seen as most valuable in this new society. The New People were placed in hard labor camps to break them of all normalcy of their previous lives in attempt to build them back stronger.
I started the day at the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum AKA S-21 or Security Prison - 21. Once the Khmer Rouge identified the "New People” and an enemy of the state they were sent to one of the 150 Security Prisons. These prisons were headed by Comrade Duch and their intention were to rid the republic of any unrest and by any means necessary.
S-21 was formerly the Chao Ponhea Yat High School situated in the heart of Phonm Penh. Once the government was overthrown and the schools closed, the campus was converted to a torture camp. The windows were covered the iron gates and barbed wire. Propaganda revolution songs were played over the loud speakers to cover the sounds of the torture. It was known to the people as the place you entered but never exited.
Prisoners were held and tortured until they gave the guards what they wanted, a confession. A confession of their actions against the Khmer Rouge and the actions of their family members and friends. Most of the time there was nothing to confess. Once a confession was obtained and signed, the prisoner was killed. The prisoners were imprisoned under false confessions and only confessed in order to end their suffering.
The facility was closed in 1979 once the Khmer Rouge was overthrown. Besides cleaning the surfaces and the removal of bodies, the facility remains relatively untouched. You can feel the horror the plaster walls contain and can see the outline of the cells on the tile floor. The bed frames used for torture still occupy the rooms complete with their shackles.
The fleeing Khmer Rouge guards killed the remaining prisoners and left the documents they couldn’t destroy in time. Room after room there are huge frames displaying the original portraits of the prisoners telling their stories. Men, women, and children’s pictures alive when they arrived and pictures after their confession and subsequent execution to document the threat had been eliminated.
The Khmer Rouge were ruthless and their practices and slogans showed how horrible they were. In their opinion it was better to kill an innocent by accident than let an enemy live by mistake. They also tortured and killed entire families including newborn babies. Comparing the practice to pulling weeds. In order to kill a weed properly you must pull up the roots. By leaving no roots or next of kin, the Khmer Rouge believed it eliminated anyone coming for revenge.
Poor peasant farmer teenagers were brought into the camps and trained in torture techniques. The Khmer Rouge believed they made the best torture guards due to their lack of education and young malleable minds.
Boys were used mostly as torture guards and the girls in a medic capacity. The issue being the doctors were considered New People have already been executed. The prisoners needed to be kept alive until a confession was obtained. If they were killed accidentally, the medic and torturer were killed due to their inability to do their job.
It wasn’t only Cambodians who were killed here either. Many foreign nationals from USA, Australia, UK, Canada, New Zealand, and others were killed as well. One exhibit tells the story of Kerry Hamill a 27 year old New Zealand national who was sailing his 28-foot boat around SE Asia. He entered Cambodian waters and was taken prisoner. He spent two-months as a prisoner being tortured by the Khmer Rouge trying to obtain a confession about his activity with the CIA.
He just disappeared without a trace and left his family wondering what had happened. It was only after the files were recovered did they understand what had happened. In reading the documents you could see what kind of guy he was. He was on a trip of his lifetime sailing a route he dreamed sending post cards back home from foreign lands. During the torture interrogations clearly leading his captures on wild goose chases. Claiming his commanding officers were Colonel Sanders and Sargent Pepper. Using his home phone number as his CIA contact number. In his final confession encoding a message to his mother and family telling them that he loved them.
Quickly the Khmer Rouge had a shortage of areas to bury the bodies the torture camps were generating. They identified areas in the country that would be suitable for executions and mass graves. The process changed and instead of killing the prisoners on site to trucking them in mass to these sites.
After the museum we made our way to the Choeung Ek Killing Fields 11 miles from S-21. It is one of 20,000 located within the country. Prisoners were loaded on trucks being told they were being relocated but it was only to help quell any resistance. The location was originally a Chinese burial ground located just outside a few villages which still had residents.
Once at the fields the prisoners were lined up along the edge of the pits and murdered. In an effort to save bullets they were bludgeoned or stabbed to death with farming tools and ox cart axels. The bodies then covered in D.D.T.. A chemical to ensure they were dead, accelerate decomposition, and eliminate any odor.
There is a trail that winds through the area. The area is quiet and each person has an audio guide leading them to different parts of the fields. The ground is gassy and full of craters and raised hills from the mass graves and excavation. Standing in the middle of the field is a 200’ tall Buddhist stupa. When in use there were different wooden buildings but they are now gone. When the Khmer Rouge left the people were so desperate for supplies they salvaged the equipment and supplies.
Similar to S-21 the area has been left as original as possible. Once discovered the excavation removed 9,000 bodies for analysis. 130 mass graves cover the area filled with prisoners murdered by the Khmer Rouge. The excavation wasn’t able to recover them all. Every year after the rainy season more soil is washed away and more bones are visible.
As I walk along the path I can see bones and teeth protruding from the soil. At the base of a tree there are strips of clothes wrapped around some of its roots. As I walk closer to the largest grave there is clearly a stench.
Half way along the path is the Killing Tree. Now it is covered in colorful bracelets and messages of love and hope. When the area was active it was used specifically to kill young children by gruesome methods that I’ll let you google.
You can’t escape what happened here. Time nor nature will let you forget it.
At the end of the trail is the stupa in the center of the grounds. It’s a memorial to those who have been murdered here and all of those murdered by the Khmer Rouge. It stands 200 feet tall made up of 17 separate layers. Each layer is filled with skulls, bones, and clothing of those found in the area. Each skull has a colored marker. A color legend explains what each colored marker means. It shows the age of the deceased and how they were killed. On display to show visitors what happened here and in memory of all those who will never be identified.
Over the course of 4 years the S-21 facility murdered over 20,000 people for various crimes that they never committed but were accused. There were over 150 such camps around the country with a final death toll estimated at 2.2m or 25% of the total population.
Each exhibit harps on the rationale of the soldiers involved. They plead that they were just doing what they were told. They didn’t actually kill anyone they just tortured. They didn’t bludgeon anyone to death they just processed them as they came to the prison. It wasn’t my fault it was that guy. It pleads to everyone to remember what happened here and understand that it could happen anywhere. And it will happen again if people do not stand up to what is wrong and immoral.
One of the most interesting aspects of the Khmer Rouge is how they pulled it off. During the time of Pol Pot there were severe economic sanctions and border control. They accepted no foreign support in an attempt to be completely self sufficient. There wasn’t any movement of people or goods on either side of the Cambodian border. They also stopped the flow of journalists which stopped the flow of information. There were a few refugees who were able to escape and told stories of genocide to the outside world. They were not believed and all atrocities were considered to be lies.
In 1978 representatives and journalist from Sweden were invited by Pol Pot to tour Cambodia and see the country for themselves. The two-week tour showed the visitors modern rubber factories, smiling faces, and a functioning society. They dined with Pol Pot and the leaders of the regime, listening to their vision for Cambodia. Upon returning to Sweden they sided and supported the Khmer Rouge and believed in their vision. A few months later in 1979, Vietnamese backed forces toppled the Khmer Rouge and sent Pol Pot and his forces hiding along the Thailand border. Only once the invading forces entered the country was the world able to see the atrocities which took place.
This started a nearly two decade long fight to control the country. Various groups supported by various world super powers fought for control. Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge changed names a few times but he was considered in power and Cambodia’s leader by the world powers. Even after opening the shades and showing the world what the Khmer Rouge had committed, they retained their seat within the UN until 1993.
The leaders of the Khmer Rouge stood no international trial for their crimes until the Co-Prime Minsters of Cambodia petitioned the UN in 1997. In 2003 the UN and Royal Government of Cambodia reached an agreement for prosecution. After four years of fundraising the trials started in 2007. Five leaders of the Khmer Rouge faced trial over the following three years ending in the fall of 2010. Two of which died during the trials and three of which are serving life sentences. Pol Pot never stood trial and died while under house arrest in 1998.
The members were tried for Cambodian laws, genocide, crimes against society, war crimes, destruction of cultural property, and crimes against diplomats. Due to the definition of genocide being created after WWII for the crimes of the Nazi’s, the tribunal had a difficult time convicting the Khmer Rouge of genocide. The Khmer Rouge targeted political opponents primarily, not those necessarily of religious, national, racial, or ethnic groups. They were convicted of genocide for Vietnamese and Cham minorities totaling ten’s of thousands. They were not convicted of genocide for the 2m+ Cambodians that were murdered for being an enemy of the state.
I don’t understand how this is possible. How was a quarter of a countries population exterminated and it takes 30 years for anyone to stand trial?
That was a heavy day, I took the next one to relax around the city and take it easy.
Through talking to other travelers I heard about a water park on a river; a 4 hour drive from Phonm Penh. I booked a room and left the following morning. I really like driving this bike, I am the only one on the road and certainly the only western. If I see another rider it’s a guy with a similar bike and we flash the bikers wave, two fingers pointed down and left arm hung low.
I arrive at the small town of Kampot. Down a small dirt road I spot a sign for Arcadia waterpark. At the end of the road is a facility that is a cross between the camp from Heavy Weights and the make shift skateboard ramps I used to make when I was a kid.
The lobby has a big bar area with a rope swing and a platform for the blob, on the left is an enormous slide complete with a kicker ramp. Floating in the river are picnic tables and a bar barge. I can’t say I was productive here but I did have a great time on the water and pretending it was summer camp. At 6:30 Monday morning I was able to use all the wifi to stream the Eagles game which topped it all off.
After a few days I made my way 3 hours to the coastal town of Sihanoukville. Here I loaded a ferry and made my way to a secluded island of Koh Rong Samloem. I was nervous leaving my bike on the mainland but trusted that my heavy chain and 12 pin pad lock would keep it stationary.
45 mins on the ferry and I arrived at Koh Rong Samloem. The hostel is the only thing on the island. Electricity is provided by a network of solar panels and the closest doctor and supplies are on the mainland. The last boat for the mainland leaves at 3pm each day. The coral is sharp and the sea urchins are the biggest I have ever seen. People are hobbling around in bandages and a girl who is a veterinarian from Norway has assumed the role of island doctor.
I spent the days relaxing on the beaches, hand line fishing, and enjoying the sun. There is no wifi nor cell service. It was nice to unplug for a while. That night the staff pleads with us to stay on the deck near the bar as there is a territorial water buffalo in the area.
All was not well in paradise though as the day I arrived I started to get really really itchy. Welts were forming on my body and my 95% DEET spray seemed to be completely ineffective to whatever was biting me.
That night I was kept awake by the itching and an animal noise I can only describe as a dogs squeaky toy being murdered. In the morning a girl in my bunk asked if I was bitten by bed bugs as the guy who just left said he had been.
Bed bugs have been my biggest nightmare since I began. I don’t know anything about them but have heard the horror stories. I woke up with more bites but have no idea what a bedbug nor its bite looks like. I am under attack and in a frantic paranoid trance secure my stuff.
I take off for the day and use a tree as a scratching post. It’s an island and expected mosquitos but this was horrible. I considered cutting off my skin as a better alternative to this pain.
I return to my room and look at my back. I didn’t know bug bites could look so bad. They are under my shoulder blades and unreachable. The welts have spread to my hands, arms, and legs. I am dealing with an enemy I can’t see and don’t have wifi to formulate a plan.
I am worried that I brought them with me. I am too embarrassed to ask anyone for fear of retaliation and ostracization from the group. “There is that dirty American guy who gave us bed bugs.” It’s felt like a STD with group consequences and none of the fun.
The itching takes all my energy and my mind races with worst case scenarios. I conclude I need to burn everything once I reach the mainland. I also need to see a doctor opposed to cutting off my skin. In the morning I catch the next ferry off the island.
On the mainland I frantically google bedbugs. I know what I am looking for a rip apart my bags looking for eggs and their bodies. I don’t see anything but my bag is full of sand which makes it hard. After a through search I make my way to the international clinic.
There are no HPPA guidelines here. The receptionist asks loudly my reason for coming in and sheepishly reply I have an itch. Waiting in the lobby I google more and finally after a five minute eternity Dmitry the Russian doctor calls me in.
He is cool, calm, kind, and collected. I am a mess and I think he can sense my anxiety. I explain my symptoms and after looking at the patches of my bites tells me its sandflies. Probably some bedbugs too as they bite in a line, but mostly sandflies.
Sandflies are little bastards with clear bodies that leave you with 7 days of agony. They bite on the first day then the welt develops, then the itching for the remainder of the week. Since the welts show up a day after being bitten I was most likely bitten first at the water park. Then bitten again with some bedbugs thrown in at the island. He gives me some pills and ointment. I am relieved and thankful for his help. The doctor visit and medication costs $20.
After this experience and the last few months of constantly moving I am tired. For the first time I am really tired. It has been nonstop since the first of November and I am approaching the end of my third month of non-stop travel.
I am tired of packing my bag, I am tired of rice, I am tired of noodles, and I am tired of unfamiliar things trying to kill me. I want a coors light, a breakfast burrito, some chicken parm, and a pizza.
I really didn’t think this would happen but thinking back, I’m surprised I lasted this long. I have certainly been tired along the way and have expressed it, but not tired like this. I think it is just showing me what I actually need. What actually makes me happy. It’s more than just the list of foods I listed. A sense of home would be nice, maybe some roots aren’t the worst thing in the world. But they need to be my roots, in my home. Not someone else’s that I apply to my life. Certainly gives me a lot to think about as I continue traveling and imagine what life will be like when I’m done.
I’ll depart in the morning for an ecolodge in the Cardamom Mountains. Nestled in the mountains next to a lake and river a guy is attempting to create alternative income channels for the people. Income channels that don’t involve illegal logging and snaring. While I haven’t been able to get a hold of him, it seems amazing and fingers crossed he has a hammock for me. I hope to do get the bike dirty with some trail riding and help out at the English school he has created to help the local kids.
If anyone has read this far, I feel that I have been writing a lot about the bad or negative aspects of the places I have visited and this is not my intention. These places are amazing just different. I could travel to any city in America and find the same things. It is just so obvious here once you leave the tourist circuit. It strikes me and I am interested in it. If you are planning a trip go for it, the world is rad and there is a lot of good stuff out there.
Inclosing, GO BIRDS!!!!
-Joe
