Phnom Penh to Siem Reap 17/11/11 - 25/11/11.

A narrow boat from Don Deth island in Laos transports us to the mainland and the border with Cambodia. Entrepreneurial locals dressed smartly in cheap looking shirts and patent leather shoes barter for the business of taking care of our visa applications whilst we wait around feeling slightly bewildered in the morning heat. There's always a strange feeling of mild panic mixed with resignation as you realise you've just paid someone to relieve you of your passport…..

A cramped minibus journey takes us through border control to wait at a hot and dusty line of food stalls behind which men openly urinate and children squat in the thinning undergrowth nearby.

Thankfully we are re-united with our passports and the necessary visa documentation and reach Phnom Penh around 8pm, where we are promptly assailed by a clamouring herd of tuktuk drivers shouting and banging on the doors before the bus even comes to a standstill. We push through the heaving jeering crowd to retrieve our luggage and get singled out by one driver. He's a friendly persistent chap so finally not only wins our fare (and deposits us at a hotel in a district of the city we did not even want to be in) but also gets to take us for a tour tomorrow!

Phnom Penh is a busy and bustling city and much more developed than we were expecting, full of smart modern buildings and bright neon lights above streets heaving with scooters who don't seem to bother with lights - their own or those of traffic signals. Our hostel is labelled as "Hotel 11 Happy" or "2 Happy" in Roman numerals, I can't tell. It's smart and clean, but we are in a windowless tiled room that is totally devoid of any character.

At 10am the next day we are met by San, our tuktuk driver from the previous night who transports us through the traffic clogged streets to Choeung Ek - a site known simply as "the killing fields". Up to this point, I had only a vague notion of a mass murderer called Pol Pot. Today was going to be an emotional learning experience of the atrocities committed under his regime.

A tall pagoda is the main focus for attention upon entering a tranquil garden setting that belies the horrors that were committed here during the period 1975-1979. An audio guide talks you through the history of the thousands of innocent Cambodians who were brought here to be tortured, mutilated and ultimately buried here in mass graves. It is truly a harrowing experience as we walk around the site taking in the stories of survivors and the methods of torture. As we reach the tree against which they smashed the heads of babies and small children it was too much to bear.

The pagoda is filled with 12 tiers of human remains that have been exhumed from the now open graves, all cleaned and categorised according to sex and approximate age.

Feeling thoroughly depressed we rejoin San and make our way to the city through chaotic beeping traffic spewing up clouds of dirt and dust around us.

Tuol Sleng is now known as the Museum of Genocide, but during Pol Pots reign of terror it was S-21, a former school that operated as the Khmer Rouges principle place of torture in Phnom Penh. Here innocent men and women of various white collar professions were brought to be tortured until they confessed to fabricated wrong-doings against the regime. The classrooms were turned into cells and the crude brick partitions still remain as a reminder of the cramped conditions prisoners were kept in. Some of the rooms contain a gallery of the inmates - a wall of faces staring out of the frames conveying emotions of fear, insolence, anger, indifference, acceptance, sadness, pity or in some; defiance. These images are seared onto my memory and will not be forgotten easily. Alongside the searching, questioning faces are displays of the instruments used in their torture - mostly crude, rusty farming tools - guns and bullets were considered too expensive.

The emotional weight of these visits is made heavier by the ragtag group of amputees that hang around the entrances to these monuments. One has a nightmare mask of scar tissue with one eye missing - to my emotionally warped mind he is a figure who's stepped straight from a Francis Bacon painting, a visage that has been smudged and re-worked to resemble a human face.

For some light relief we head to Tuol Tom Pong, known as the Russian market; a heaving maze of goods and activity with narrow lanes crammed with stalls selling everything from wooden carvings to spare motorbike parts. After wearying from the over zealous attention of the vendors that descend upon you as soon as you stop to look at anything, we head for Wat Phnom - a small hilltop temple sanctuary that is pleasantly understated and not as gaudy as those in Thailand. Inside is a small band of musicians seated on the floor and making a merry racket with xylophones and tom-toms. A shrine next door houses the most peculiar Buddha effigy we have seen yet - a plastic form with a manic grin on its painted face surrounded by a halo of flashing rainbow coloured LED lights, the usual offerings of fruit and incense but also a smattering of baskets filled with nail polish?! The only gay Buddha in the village….

A couple of blocks from our hostel is the riverfront; the streets are teeming with tuktuk drivers calling out for your business as motos buzz past the prostitutes and tourists stumbling in the road to avoid the rubbish piling up on the pavements in front of shop windows. The old colonial buildings that were formerly grand homes for the French governors and merchants who used to reside here are now a seething mass of bars, cafes and restaurants all jostling for attention with bright neon lights and waiters shouting out the evening specials as you walk by. We can't find the place in the guidebook so we plump for a vaguely respectable looking establishment called 'Foo Shun' and sit at their rooftop terrace overlooking the mayhem below. The service was abominably slow, but the local speciality of Amok Fish was fantastic - a kind of dry green fish curry served in half a coconut.

The next day we found ourselves having a peculiar experience at Wat Ounalom. As we were ambling around the site, an elderly chap had called over to us as we walked into a quiet courtyard area at the back of the main temple. Pulling a big bunch of keys from his pocket he unlocked the heavy doors behind him and ushered us inside. Before we knew it we were all huddled side by side in a smaller hobbit hole of a temple kneeling before a tiny shrine to Buddha. The old man began muttering and stirring a bowl of scented water with some incense sticks, sweat trickled off his brow as he did so. He takes my hand, murmuring something unintelligible and brushes the incense sticks across my palm whilst waving his other hand around my head. During his murmuring and waving, Katy and I are reverently silent; until he starts flicking the scented water in our faces and I can't help but descend into a fit of sniggers.

Still chuckling at the bizarre encounter we popped into another hall where we witnessed some amazing detailed frescoes being painted by a small group of men on scaffold. The colours are dazzling and one of the men explains in hesitant English that they are 7 months through a 10 month project. The walls and ceilings look stunning and to my eyes, one of the most interesting temple interiors we've seen yet.

Ignoring the barks of "Tuktuk? Sir? Tuktuk??", we wander round to the Royal Palace - a grand opulent affair set within huge grounds of which you can only visit a fraction. From here you can walk around to the Silver pagoda. Another temple set in a pretty courtyard of potted flowers and ornate stone carvings. Inside there are silver blocks set in the floor that look more like tin and a collection of hundreds of Buddha statuettes that have been donated by various foreign dignitaries that makes it look like someone once said they liked Buddha statues and now that's all they ever get bought….

Down at the riverfront for dinner again and we choose a place called "Bojangles". We give up our seats when a large group come in and move to a smaller table by the door. Almost as soon as we've settled in and placed our order, one of the young boys selling baskets of books out on the street approaches us. There are dozens of these kids traipsing up and down the pavement all with sullen and imploring looks on their dirty faces. He must be no more than 10 or 11 years old but his English is of a standard that enables him to barter and sell like a pro.

At first we refuse, but he stubbornly persists with goading comments like "C'mon man, I need the money man, $5 not much for you, c'mon man…."

By now, the book - an account of one Cambodian's experience of the Khmer Rouge Pol Pot years - has been set on our table and even though I don't want the damn book, I'm now embroiled in a negotiation that is drawing attention from the other diners and the restaurant owners who have come over to ask if the boy is bothering us….

Squirming in my seat and wanting this awkward experience to be over as soon as possible, I tell the kid I've got no change. Of course this presents no problem and the boy takes my $20 and promptly returns with my change before scarpering off into the crowds outside.

This sinks me into a thoughtful slump…..All along the riverfront there are people on the streets - large numbers of young boys and girls selling baskets of books, mothers sitting on blankets on the pavement with their small children or babies lying in front of them, amputees hobbling on crutches and holding out begging bowls. Do we encourage this scene by buying from them? Or is it the only help we can give?

Aboard the bus to Siem Reap the next day we are made to endure more annoying karaoke music videos and occasional stops for food. Stalls selling tasty looking local treats are polluted by too many flies and men loudly and openly gobbing on the ground. There looks to be remaining evidence of the floods that washed through this area a month or 2 previous - large expanses that could be lakes were it not for the tufts of trees, tall grass and pylons protruding out of the water.

'Haks House' hostel is located down the sorriest excuse for a road we've ever seen. Pot holes the size of craters, some of which are filled in with loose bricks and rubble seem to provide no deterrent for the endless stream of cars, mopeds, pedestrians and tuktuks all vying for the last remaining patches of smooth surface.

Hak himself is a small man with all the warmth and friendliness of a caiman and the likeability of a letting agent, but his hostel is ok.

Siem Reap town centre consists of a few blocks of markets, bars, restaurants and accommodation. It has a pleasant atmosphere and feels not nearly as sleazy as Phnom Penh. There are however, scores of children and amputees shuffling around the streets with their baskets of books or trinkets for sale.

The main reason why anyone comes to Siem Reap is for the magnificent Khmer temple ruins of Angkor Wat. The place is not just one building but a sprawling complex of lesser temples and palaces around the main attraction of Angkor Wat itself. We spent 3 days here in total, getting picked up each morning by our cheerful but non English speaking tuktuk driver Jandra. I will admit here and now that the site is a fantastic experience, but after 3 days, one can feel somewhat "templed out" and the architecture, carvings and details all start to merge into one. Katy has written a page of notes about the various motifs around the temples, which I don't have to hand at the moment, so I'll keep this brief and stick to the highlights……

We (Katy actually) had agonised for hours the previous night about a planned route for visiting the vast complex, about which sites we should visit in which order to get the best views and more importantly avoid the huge crowds of tourists on organised tours.

The highlight for me on the first day was Ta Prohm, or "Tomb Raider Temple" after its use as location for the Angelina Jolie movie. Here, the surrounding jungle has encroached on the abandoned temple to such an extent that enormous roots of giant trees squash the crumbling buildings. Many of the buildings look like a huge tree has simply been dropped on top of them from a great height.

Our visit here was marred slightly however by what we shall affectionately term "photo-gate"……We happened upon a particularly scenic spot and Katy was determined to get a nice shot. As soon as she raised the camera however, an under-dressed and over made-up Eastern European woman began parading in front of the crumbling brick work for her burly boyfriend who was carrying an expensive professional looking camera with overly large lens attachments. As we've seen before, one simple snap is just not enough, so they pose this way and that and snap away oblivious to the people waiting patiently to one side. Enough is enough I thought, it's hot and I need the loo, so I asked them to move to one side so we can take a photo ourselves. After establishing, that no, I don't want to photograph them, I look behind me and Katy is nowhere to be seen; she's scurried off to hide somewhere in horror, aghast at what I've just done. I thought it was perfectly reasonable…..

We soon realise that it's not the hordes of tourists that are most annoying, (which thanks to Katy's meticulous planning, we've done pretty well to avoid) but the crowds of vendors outside each location selling food, drinks, bangles, prints, and books.

"Sir? You want sometheeeennng?" they holler as you descend from one temple.

"Lady, you want pictuuuurrrrrgggghh?" gets screeched from afar.

"Meestah, you want cold dreeeennk?" as you clamber out of your vehicle.

It's incessant and far worse even than Peru; if you refuse one, they offer you two! It all gets very aggravating very quickly, just trying to get from one place to the next being constantly harangued.

The second day began with a 4am pick up for sunrise at Lake Srah Srang which would've been a wonderfully serene moment were it not for the persistent young girls hassling you to buy stuff. This day is kept brief as neither of us is feeling particularly great after ice cream last night. We see beautiful ornate stone carvings at Bantay Drei and Bantay Srei and walk up to Phnom Bakheng, a hillside temple in the burning hot midday sun for some amazing views once up the ridiculously steep steps.

On the way back home the driver stops at a cluster of huts and we are immediately assailed by a dozen kids all selling identical paper mobiles. They swarm around us, waving their colourful creations in our faces. They must be aged around 9, but already they know how to sell to tourists:

"Meestahyouwan'buymysomethingsoIcangotoschooljus'onedolluuuurrrrrr…"

All of them jostling for space with each other waving their flimsy paper mobiles until they're brushing our faces, all repeating the same well rehearsed high pitched request over and over letting it tail off into a single syllable hanging in the air before your eyes sapping your will to refuse.

But what can we do? We can't realistically buy something from everyone who asks us?!? It's a sad and emotional scene that bothers us a lot - but Katy is purposefully stubborn and I keep my sunglasses on not knowing what to do or where to look.

The third day is reserved for the big guns. We see sunrise at Angkor Wat, where we are but a speck amidst the hordes of other tourists all crowding round for that perfect Angkor picture. We enjoy a peaceful 3 hrs there once the crowds have disappeared for breakfast wandering through the corridors with their epic bas-reliefs, the inner circles, shrines and palace walls carved with curvaceous apsara figures representing a male oriented vision of Heaven. Unfortunately by the time we get round to Angkor Thom the crowds have caught up with us and we are forced to shuffle along in the heat, doing our best to take pictures of the enigmatic huge faces without other tourists in the shot. After finishing Bayon, Bouphuon, the Royal Palace, and the Elephant Terrace in the scorching midday sun we rejoin our driver for a long drive to Rouluos - an older and quieter complex of crumbling brick temples that are slowly being restored. Once again we are racked with guilt as kids stand by the entrance selling stuff.

This is a common theme of our visit to Cambodia. It's a beautiful place, but squalid in places - a country still struggling to come to terms with its violent and impoverished past. Back in town, street kids and amputees bother diners at the open fronted restaurants for small change.

We brave a Khmer/Cambodian BBQ for our last dinner before leaving for Vietnam - a theatre of a meal that includes such delicacies as snake, crocodile and frogs legs being grilled on a metal dome that looks like a big lemon squeezer sitting atop a gas burner on the table. In case you're wondering; they all taste like chicken…….

Dean X