Phnom Penh

No fit state to travel? This is Lyn on the first morning after being upgraded to business class...

Took wifey to Phnom Penh, the low-rise capital of Cambodia, for the weekend. We booked ahead but, on arrival at our hotel, were greeted with blank stares. Not a good start. Then after being shown to our room and informed that we'd have to move the next day because it was booked to someone else, Lyn discovered the toilet was dirty - I mean really dirty. We sat by the tiny pool full of kids' toys while the staff argued loudly about who would clean the bog, and looked through our lonely planet book for alternatives. A short trip across town courtesy of Jack, who became "Our" tuk tuk driver for the weekend, and we found a better hotel that was so new it wasn't in any books. It was called Mysteres & Mekong, and was mostly used by French people, but we like French people so it was all good. The hotel had air conditioned rooms in Colonial style, a nice leafy secluded pool area and free wi-fi. We were much happier.

We gave the next day over to the more depressing part of Cambodia, i.e. the infamous S-21 detention centre and the "Cheung Ek Genocidal Centre", otherwise known as the killing fields. S-21 is in the middle of the city and Cheung Ek is 15 km away so we got Jack to take us back and forth all day. He was happy to wait outside for us and charged a small fee for the whole day, including taking us out in the evenings. S-21 is, as is stated in other places, startling in its ordinariness. It was a school before the revolution but was subsequently used to detain and torture a lot of "Suspects" between 1975 and 1979. Afterwards they were taken to the killing fields and disposed of. All of this was meticulously documented by the Khmer Rouge guards, who were after all just young farmhands who had been caught up in the revolution, indoctrinated into Pol Pot's twisted logic, and didn't really think they were doing anything wrong. I think as they got older they became capable of independant thought, maybe began questioning what they were doing, and were subsequently sentenced to torture and death at the hands of the younger ones. Whatever aspect you look at it's profoundly depressing. The photos of men, women and children, taken on admission, are harrowing. In the eyes of the men is anger, in the eyes of the women is resignation, in the eyes of the children is bewilderment. Pol Pot decreed that the suspects' wives and children must be killed along with them, to prevent later reprisals. Anyway, I've now gone on far too long about it so here are some pics and we'll move on..S-21. Nuff said.
We just can't stop doing the wrong thing. You'd expect humility and respect for all the suffering, but..
The place is now owned by a Japanese company who promote it and repair the access roads. There was national outrage when the contract went to a foreign company but it happened anyway. Money talks, apparently louder than the dead.

In the afternoon, as became our routine for the trip, we made use of the hotel pool to cool off and get some much-needed refreshment, in the form of a couple of reasonably strong G-and-T's. Average temperature for the trip was about 38 degrees by the way.

That evening, to cheer us up, we asked Jack to take us to a nice restaurant and he did just that. On the riverfront there are loads of bars etc, but this one had traditional Khmer dancers, good service, great food and a nice atmosphere. It was called the Bopha and was attached to the Titanic night club. I didn't notice till we were paying the bill, but the whole restaurant is decked out like .. well, a deck. Lifebelts, the lot.Strange bendy balancing dancer woman gives me the eye.

Next day we went to the art quarter of the city for a mooch around, then did some more traditional sight seeing. We went to the National Museum, which is well stocked with old statues and very little actual information about them, and then on to the Royal Palace. Lyn thought it bore a remarkable resemblance to the one in Bangkok. By this time I'd bought myself yet another hat to avoid sunstroke. It was extremely hot and most of the Palace gounds are outdoors. There was one little souvenir-type area which broke up the monotony of millions of statues of Buddha. There was a quartet sitting in room playing percussion instruments. To my delight one of them got up for a rest and the leader offered me the place. I sat down, he taught me a simple routine to play and off we went. I was jamming with the monks, man!
Just watched it again, and apologise for playing flat. I'm a drummer, not a musician. By the cringe, it was hot in there. Another tourist sat down after me, and remarked at how much sweat I'd dripped onto the floor.

What else happened? Ah yes, we went strolling one evening and discovered there was loads going on in the local square...
Can you imagine UK teenagers doing this? No, of course you can't.

Before we knew it, we were in the airport coming home. This bloke walked past wearing three hats so I decided you needed to see him:
And that's about it really. Lyn goes back to blighty tonight, I follow on Friday for a week of helping out with her installation in Bolton. See you there.