After two weeks of some much needed R&R in Thailand, we left Bangkok once again. The road to Cambodia was bumpy to say the least but we met a nice group of people on the ‘bus’ and by the time we reached the guesthouse at Siem Reap, we were more than happy to share our room with a lovely girl called Kat from Tooting.

I should say at this point that Els and I had read ‘First They Killed My Father’ (which we would highly recommend by the way); the story follows the author’s family and their struggle for survival during the barbaric regime under which Cambodia suffered unimaginable trauma. So we had been looking forward to our visit here from the start of our trip (hmmm that sounds a bit strange) or should I say we were intrigued to see how far the Cambodian people had recovered from these dark times. On that note, the next day, the three of us decided to greet the remaining horrors of the Khmer Rouge head on and hailed a tuk-tuk to the local landmine museum. And local it was. The ‘museum’ was nothing more than an open, basic, wooden hut littered with fragments of landmine shells and assorted weapons . The walls were lined as galleries with stories written by those who had either been hit or whose family had been killed and, just to add that extra touch of morbidity, photos showed the true extent of the damage. Incidentally, these weren’t quite necessary as many of the people living in the vicinity strolled around aimlessly with their amputations (almost proudly) on display, proving as scars of their terrible demise. It’s pretty shocking that roughly two people an hour are still hit by landmines and there are 6 million remaining scattered throughout Cambodia; those are some pretty pitiful statistics considering they were planted 30 years ago. Anyway, we swiftly made a donation and returned to our guesthouse where we had arranged to meet Hayley and Tom (don’t think I’ve ever met a more entertaining couple!).

The five of us headed off to Angkor Wat to tackle Phnom Bakeng in time for sunset. Our reading of Angkor Wat was limited to say the least and we were surprised to learn how big the area actually is, a great number of crumbling temples and ruins, certainly too many to visit in just one day. The infamous Angkor Wat in fact just one of the many temples but the most noted for its notoriety as the largest religious site in the world. That night, now six of us as we hooked up with another lad from our guesthouse - we relaxed in town, a bit too much when the cocktails began to flow… At 5am we wearily rose and headed to Angkor Wat for the sunrise, all equally shattered from a late night although I had stupidly decided that it was a better idea to stay up through the night rather than sleep (turns out 3 hours sleep is better than none!). The sunrise was a little disappointing but we soon found the energy to climb the three stages of Angkor Wat, the last of which was damn near impossible to get down from but the thrill of it all far outweighed the risky descent, we practically abseiled our way down! Funnier still were the americans at the top puzzled by the absence of a lift but, in their brash manner, insisting there must be one somewhere! As we traced the route back through the ruins, we stumbled upon a large statue of Shiva surrounded by a race of people quite distinct from their fellow Cambodians. We think perhaps they were tribal, they proudly welcomed us through into their shrine….they really were quite endearing despite their shrivelled faces and gummy smiles.

We visited several other ruins during the course of the day: Angkor Thom, Baphuon, Bayon (the one with all the faces), Terrace of Elephants, Terrace of Leper Kings and finally, our favourite, Ta Prohm (well not quite the last one but we couldn’t find the large reclining buddha at the last stop). The ruins had somehow become entwined with the most amazing trees. As we trawled through the long, cramped corridors stretching in all directions tracing Angelina Jolie’s steps in Tomb Raider (which was actually off the beaten track so we felt quite privileged to find it), every now and then passing a small shrine with one of those tribal monks(?) offering us blessings in the simple form a red string bracelet. Once we had finally managed to find our way out of there – pretty impressive for me and Els – we headed back and we slept...

We left the following day for Phnom Penh, the capital of Cambodia and the heart of the misery which they had endured. The five of us (minus Kat as she had returned to Thailand) found a lovely guesthouse on the lake and settled in comfortably, preparing ourself for the inevitable emotional upheaval of the Killing Fields. The impact was immediate. Before we had even entered the fields themselves, a glass encasement of skulls rose before us (details of age and sex supplied), their clothes piled underneath. We followed the trail through the fields, passing through the mass graves, one particular tree where babies and children had been mercilessly battered to death against the trunk and, perhaps even more sick was the ‘magic tree’ which played music through a loudspeaker to drown out their screams. A particular favourite way of execution was to blindfold and tie the victim, order them to squat before a pit and then batter them to death with a pickaxe. Despite the barbaric nature of this place, it was nonetheless quite beautiful though the morbid atmosphere grew thicker with every step. We left their completely blown away but feeling more prepared for the genocide museum that we visited that afternoon. Tuol Sleng Museum was originally a school until the Khmer Rouge converted the area into a prison where they detained over 10,000 innocent citizens before transferring them to the Killing Fields to meet their gruesome end, though many could not withstand the extreme torture practised by the interrogators. Fourteen graves were lined upon the grass, the last to be executed before the prison was abandoned. The first block consisted of individual cells used for interrogation, a singled ‘bed’ stood in the middle of the room equipped with various instruments of torture. The next block displayed mugshots (see the latest photo album) of all those murdered during the regime, their faces were blank of expression except for their eyes which brimmed with sorrow, more than we ever thought could be perceived through a photograph. Another block had preserved smaller cells where daylight and space were severely limited, the claustrophobia accentuating the disturbing conditions in which they were kept, their blood still sprayed upon the walls. The rooms on the floor above seemed spacious in comparison until we learned they were in fact collective cells where prisoners lay row upon row, chained to the floor. After watching a movie, we wandered through the photo galleries, detailing the deliberate starvation and the gory methods of torture: they used water tanks to immerse their victims, venomous creatures to sting pliers to remove their fingernails and nipples which they had soaked with alcohol. Other galleries showed harrowing images of babies to be executed torn from their distressed mothers and told personal stories of those who had lost family to these unforgiving souls. The image of Pol Pot and his faithful sidekicks had been (quite rightly so) heavily graffitied, our disgust at these men increasing, if this was possible, as we learned they were already dead or yet to be tried in court. We left the museum in the late afternoon but the images still lay heavy in our mind, chilling us to the bone upon every contemplation.

Hayley and Tom had planned in advance to visit the local orphanage, which I’m sure we would have known nothing about had we not met them but we all tagged along nonetheless bearing gifts of rice and bananas for the children. We were welcomed warmly, perhaps so warmly that we didn’t quite know how to react at first; the children were so open and friendly, taking our hands and hugging us as if they craved nothing more than human contact and just a little love from time to time. They lunched as we arrived and we likened the image to the scene in Oliver Twist where the orphans sit lined along their tables, only laughter was plentiful and when the children approached the counter for more food, they actually got some! They teased each other playfully when they returned with one banana more; we were pleased to see how much they were enjoying our simple gift but quite moved that they could be so easily placated. After lunch, we played with them - enjoying ourselves immensely along the way – the guys running about with the football and us girls drawing pictures in the sand and watching the children fondly plaiting one another’s hair. The children loved to be picked up, swinging to and fro in our arms (us thinking we would make them sick so soon after their food – how practical we English are). Even though they ranged from toddlers through to teens, it was clear that they appreciated our visit; one kid actually admired Els’ tattoo so much that he drew a replica on his wrist in biro. They spoke with us in surprisingly good English, smiles planted widely across their faces the whole time (except for one kid who could have won an oscar for his dramatics) and told us how they lived alongside one another and enjoyed their schooling. One girl actually showed me her exercise book – bless her – and gave me a picture she had drawn with ‘I love you’ written across the top; I swear my heart almost melted at this point. We were sad to leave them and during our return us girls chatted about adoption (but how to choose????) and ways in which we could support the orphanage from back home. The kids had tired us out so we spent the remainder of the day just chilling out in our guesthouse and recovering from our exhausting week and knowing there would only be more to come as our journey to Vietnam drew closer…