Stepping off the bus in Phnom Penh was an intesne experience. Instead of a big bus stations, we'd been brough to a random streent corner in the city. From the moment my feet touched the sidewalk, I was surround by pakcpacks, joslting passengly and eager tuktuk drivers.
My entire stay in Phnom Penh was like this: up close and intesne. WHile walking the busy streets of the city looking for dinner, I'd step out of the way of honking cars and motos as the buildings pressed me up against the streets. It's a city that means business, unfrieldy to idle visitors. Here, people live their lives, fight, make up, go to work, cook for their families. Here is a history of horrible prostitution, of theft, of drugs, here is a history of war.
While there are people who love visiting the city, and Lonely Planet seems convinced that Phnom Penh is up and coming and a great place to visit, the only reason I found myself there was to learn about Cambodia. Like many capitol cities, there are sights to see, but also plenty of indifferent locals. It's suh a big city that I never really saw much of it, and perhaps I missed the fantastic parts, but it did get to the important places.
How much do you know about the history of Cambodia?
I didn't know all that much three months ago.
Besides learning a bit about the ancient Kmer Empire while visiting Angkor Wat, the only other thing I knew about Cambodia's history was that it got pulled into the Vietman war when Nixon staretd bombing it in secret to break up Viet Cong supply lines. I'd also heard a little bit about this mysterious Kmer Rouge, which I knew to be a pretty awful dictatorship in the 70s.
Exactly how awful it was, I had no idea.
The first time I was given any hint at the gravity of this part of Cambodia's history was in Wanaka, NZ. I'd met an Austrailian who'd traveled a number of times throughout Southeast Asia, and he told me he loved Cambodia. That it was a beautiful country with wonderful people. He also said that it was empty.
"Compared to its neighbors, it's empty." He'd told me, "Outside of the cities, the country side has practically no one in it."
"What?" I responded, confused as to why that might be.
"It's because a third of the population was killed under the Kmer Rouge."
A third of the population.
I'd learn more about this throughout the trip, but, like many things, I didn't really register how horrible of a dictatorship the Kmer Rouge really was until I got to Phnom Penh and visited S21 and the Killing Fields.
Almost directly because of the US's meddling in Cambodia during the Vietnam War (or the American War as it is called over here), Pol Pot came into power in Cambodia, backed by an army. The cambodian people believed he would bring a communist peace, but Pol Pot's vision was far from that.
Three days after siezing power, the Kmer Rouge had forced all of Phnom Penh's citizens from the city. They marched without rest or food for days and days until they arrived at work camps--similar to the Nazi's concentration camps. This happened all over Cambodia, as people were forced from their homes and made to work. Pol Pot's vision was to remove any westernization, any modernization from Cambodia. He wanted to return to an idealized agrigarian society. Any one educated, all lawyers and doctors and teacher, anyone with skin too light or anyone with glasses, anyone who knew any French or English, were killed. Everyone else worked.
They worked for many hours in a day, only given two bowls and thin rice soup to survive on. They were seperated from thier families, lived in shacks. Essentially slaves.
Throughout their time in Power, the Kmer Rouge got increasingly violent and paranoid. More people were killed, they arrested "traitors" and sent them to prison, they attacked thier people. If one person was accused of some crime against the regime, their entire family was sent to prison.
But it wasn't just prison. If they were killed outright, they were brought to one of the many prisons around the country, like S21, a building that used to be a school before the regime. During the Kmer Rouge, it was a prison were thousands and thousands of people were totured on a daily basis, until they were close to death. Then, they were brought to a killing field, like the once just outside of Phnom Penh, and beatened to death, thier bodies left there unmarked among thousands.
Visiting S21 and a killing field was the other main reason why my time in Phnom Penh was a challenge. S21 as a place is still so filled with ghosts. The air there is stale, and the taste of blood and old screams hangs heavy in the air. The rooms were people were chained up for months and months are still there, the scrapes and screams clinging to the cracked bricks. Like the Nazi's the Kmer Rouge recorded alll their activities. They took pictures of all their prisoners, and those pictures are now hung up on the wall. These prisoners knew they would die sometime. Maybe soon. Maybe in a few months. But I don't know if they knew what was in store for them before thier deaths. But looking at the eyes of the dead, it was obvious that they knew what their fate would be.
Once of the most horrible parts of the Kmer Rouge was that they took little kids--ten year olds and twelve year olds and, because they "had to memory of the time before and were pure" they were put in charge. They were made to torture and kill, to crack the whip and dole out not-enough food. Those kids, today are adults, and I can't imagine the burdens they carry on their shoulders.
The second most horrible thing for me to learn about the Kmer Rouge was about the US's policy towards them. The North Vietnamese were the ones to liberate Cambodia from the Kmer Rouge, forcing Pol Pot and his followers into the country side near the Thai border. But because the North Vietnamese were communist, the United States, the UN and many other western countries recognized the Kmer Rouge as the official goverment for many years after they lost power. I know that the US has meddled in other countries for many years. I know they've put dictators into power and created wars. But I can't understand how it's possible for our country to support a regime that destroyed so many lives, a regime that did not know what freedom meant, a regime that dragged an entire country through a literal hell on earth.
That was hard for me to swallow.
So. Now that I've horrified you all with this story, I want to make sure you know that Cambodia is getting better. It's still very much a third world country, and a lot of things from the Kmer Rouge are still unaddressed, but my next few posts will tell stories of my time in Camobodia as it is today, and why there is hope for this beautiful country.
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
Ruins
Look a the ground. What are your feet touching? A carpet? Tiles? Asphalt? Look at your hands. What are they holding? Something precious? Something new? Something old? Something useless? Look arund you. Wehre is the nearest wall? What color is it? How high is it? What is it made of?
Look around you again. THink about where you are. Fix it in your mind: Where are you?
Imagine this place exactly as it was a thousand years ago. Look at the ground. Loot at your hands. Look around you. Where are you?
Imagine this place exactly as it will be one thousand years into the futures. Look at the ground. Look at your hands. Look around you. Where are you?
When biologists talk about evolution, they talk in thousands of years. When geologists talk about the formation of rocks, they talk in millions of years. And when we first looked into the night sky and looked at the stars, we learned to talk about billions of yers.
But we humans build things that last only a litle while. WE live our lives, laughing and creating, hurting and loving, learning an dexporing. We make families and made decisions. WE witness disaster and recovery. OUr lives feel so rich, yet they tak eplace in the time it takes the univers to blink.
Many people before me have observed and comented on the brevity of human existence. Kingdoms rise and kingtom fall. Ages come and ages go. War arrives na war passed. Stones is carved and stone crumbles.
Nowhere is this lesson more eviden than in the great cities of old, crumbling and dusty today, where pilgris from all corners flock to drin k in and sna photos of the wisdom and power and ingenuity of peoples long gone.
While I've seen glinmpes of thosebastions of old vicilizations in the past year--in the aqueduct and in Florence, never before have I stood before such great reminders of the past, so full of old secrets, old ghosts, old art, and old ways of life as I have here. Before the great ruins of Sukotai and Angor Wat, I stood in humbles awe, a small of of a human.
Sukothai was the first capitol of the empire that would eventually become Thailand. It's in a pretty large area, filled with old temples and monuments that are browned and weathered and crumbling today. I had the wonderful chance to explore these ruins by bike one beatuful day.
It was overcast, and windy. LIttle did I know that I'd see my first sight of rain in two months that day. The ruins were deep red and brown and black, dotted here and there with broken white statues. Sukotai is in a vast park, taken up by stretches of green lawn, stands of rees and resoviors. It's hard to believe that it once was a great city, where in between the tembles and palaces lived regular people in wooden houses, going about their daily business.
Amongst the dark colors of age,it seems impossible that these ruins were once whole, once bright and filled with color. It's so difficult to imagine the park filled with people and city sounds. The creek of carts and the barking of dogs, the calling of vendors and the shouts of children, the pushing and shoving and good neighbors in the streets. Moving through Sukotai on the two wheels of my bike, I could not help but reflect on the great power of time, how easily is changes great cities into ruins.
Only a few days later, I found myself in Angkor Wat, a name which I'm sure many of you have heard. These ruins, are spread out on an even greater area, the tembles are even larger and grander. A visitor could spend days losing themselves there. And once again, looking at the pillars now grounded, cracked statues and faded faces, I tried to picture what they might have looked like hundreds of years ago.
They must have been a riot of color. Statues would have been wrapped in brights hues, and altars would have been covered in offerings like flowers and food and insence. The temples would be filled with sound, the monks chants and people's prayers, and somewhere in the distance, the sound of building, for projects were ever present in Angkor.
But here, too, time has had it's way. Colors have faded, and bright fabric is no longer seen. The monks and thier chants are long gone, so is the perfume of incense. Today, Angkor stands tall and proud as ever, but so much of its original spirit is gone. Now, people walked in silent awe through its halls, brushing shoulders with old ghosts and echoes of the past.
For me, the message found in these ruins is important. Sukotai and ANgkor Wat are aat once evidence of humanity's ingenuity and a caution against pride, for time is the winner of all races. The creations of humanity are all governed by it, be they built in 800 AD or 2014, they will all crumble one day. Buddhists understand this so very well, but us westerners easily forget. But that is not to say we should not create in fear that it will dissapear one day, but that we should create, despite its temporary life.
Look around you again. THink about where you are. Fix it in your mind: Where are you?
Imagine this place exactly as it was a thousand years ago. Look at the ground. Loot at your hands. Look around you. Where are you?
Imagine this place exactly as it will be one thousand years into the futures. Look at the ground. Look at your hands. Look around you. Where are you?
When biologists talk about evolution, they talk in thousands of years. When geologists talk about the formation of rocks, they talk in millions of years. And when we first looked into the night sky and looked at the stars, we learned to talk about billions of yers.
But we humans build things that last only a litle while. WE live our lives, laughing and creating, hurting and loving, learning an dexporing. We make families and made decisions. WE witness disaster and recovery. OUr lives feel so rich, yet they tak eplace in the time it takes the univers to blink.
Many people before me have observed and comented on the brevity of human existence. Kingdoms rise and kingtom fall. Ages come and ages go. War arrives na war passed. Stones is carved and stone crumbles.
Nowhere is this lesson more eviden than in the great cities of old, crumbling and dusty today, where pilgris from all corners flock to drin k in and sna photos of the wisdom and power and ingenuity of peoples long gone.
While I've seen glinmpes of thosebastions of old vicilizations in the past year--in the aqueduct and in Florence, never before have I stood before such great reminders of the past, so full of old secrets, old ghosts, old art, and old ways of life as I have here. Before the great ruins of Sukotai and Angor Wat, I stood in humbles awe, a small of of a human.
Sukothai was the first capitol of the empire that would eventually become Thailand. It's in a pretty large area, filled with old temples and monuments that are browned and weathered and crumbling today. I had the wonderful chance to explore these ruins by bike one beatuful day.
It was overcast, and windy. LIttle did I know that I'd see my first sight of rain in two months that day. The ruins were deep red and brown and black, dotted here and there with broken white statues. Sukotai is in a vast park, taken up by stretches of green lawn, stands of rees and resoviors. It's hard to believe that it once was a great city, where in between the tembles and palaces lived regular people in wooden houses, going about their daily business.
Amongst the dark colors of age,it seems impossible that these ruins were once whole, once bright and filled with color. It's so difficult to imagine the park filled with people and city sounds. The creek of carts and the barking of dogs, the calling of vendors and the shouts of children, the pushing and shoving and good neighbors in the streets. Moving through Sukotai on the two wheels of my bike, I could not help but reflect on the great power of time, how easily is changes great cities into ruins.
Only a few days later, I found myself in Angkor Wat, a name which I'm sure many of you have heard. These ruins, are spread out on an even greater area, the tembles are even larger and grander. A visitor could spend days losing themselves there. And once again, looking at the pillars now grounded, cracked statues and faded faces, I tried to picture what they might have looked like hundreds of years ago.
They must have been a riot of color. Statues would have been wrapped in brights hues, and altars would have been covered in offerings like flowers and food and insence. The temples would be filled with sound, the monks chants and people's prayers, and somewhere in the distance, the sound of building, for projects were ever present in Angkor.
But here, too, time has had it's way. Colors have faded, and bright fabric is no longer seen. The monks and thier chants are long gone, so is the perfume of incense. Today, Angkor stands tall and proud as ever, but so much of its original spirit is gone. Now, people walked in silent awe through its halls, brushing shoulders with old ghosts and echoes of the past.
For me, the message found in these ruins is important. Sukotai and ANgkor Wat are aat once evidence of humanity's ingenuity and a caution against pride, for time is the winner of all races. The creations of humanity are all governed by it, be they built in 800 AD or 2014, they will all crumble one day. Buddhists understand this so very well, but us westerners easily forget. But that is not to say we should not create in fear that it will dissapear one day, but that we should create, despite its temporary life.
Friday, April 11, 2014
Rooftop
"Let's try and get to the roof," Julia had said. She had led the way up the last set of stairs, had found the door to the outside, had turned the corner, had found the open space.
All the while I'd been thinking, "what if we get locked out?"
I stepped gingerly over the pipes that crisscrossed the flat grew roof, ducking under a clothesline. Following Julia's purple tank top, I turned the corner around the door Id just emerged from.
And stopped in my tracks.
Any thoughts of getting stuck on the roof of a random building in a strange city, any skepticism, any thoughts that this was anything but a good idea, any worries I might have had, fled.
Before me hanging heavy and clear and bold in the sky was the most magnificent sun I'd ever seen.
It was the sort of red poets use to describe rubies. It was the red of blood, the red of the roses my dad always gives to my mom on valentines day, the red of parched earth, the red of aged wine the red that crackles around logs in a fire place that warms your very bones.
The sun hung there in the blue, blue sky. It hummed quietly, sinking slowly under the weight of the day.
the light from the red sun cast deep shadows on the worlds around me. A city fell before my feet. The streets crossed and dashed below the sky. Buildings of every color and character sprouted up like grass.
The city thrummed under the red sun, filled up with the sounds of people and cars and day old vegetables, of sleeping babies and hungry dogs, of TV dramas and footballs passed between friend. The air felt like the end of the day as shops closed and people began their drive home and school kids flocked to convenience stores.
Reverently, I lay down my yoga mat. And there, on a lonely rooftop somewhere in Thailand, step by step, movement after movement, I greeted the sun, I greeted the cinder block city, I greeted the people around me I'd never see.
My feet were warmed by the sun kissed roof, my sweat dripped onto the concrete, mixing with the city grime. I breathed in and out and in under the great sun, breathing my thanks and farewell to a beautiful country.
All the while I'd been thinking, "what if we get locked out?"
I stepped gingerly over the pipes that crisscrossed the flat grew roof, ducking under a clothesline. Following Julia's purple tank top, I turned the corner around the door Id just emerged from.
And stopped in my tracks.
Any thoughts of getting stuck on the roof of a random building in a strange city, any skepticism, any thoughts that this was anything but a good idea, any worries I might have had, fled.
Before me hanging heavy and clear and bold in the sky was the most magnificent sun I'd ever seen.
It was the sort of red poets use to describe rubies. It was the red of blood, the red of the roses my dad always gives to my mom on valentines day, the red of parched earth, the red of aged wine the red that crackles around logs in a fire place that warms your very bones.
The sun hung there in the blue, blue sky. It hummed quietly, sinking slowly under the weight of the day.
the light from the red sun cast deep shadows on the worlds around me. A city fell before my feet. The streets crossed and dashed below the sky. Buildings of every color and character sprouted up like grass.
The city thrummed under the red sun, filled up with the sounds of people and cars and day old vegetables, of sleeping babies and hungry dogs, of TV dramas and footballs passed between friend. The air felt like the end of the day as shops closed and people began their drive home and school kids flocked to convenience stores.
Reverently, I lay down my yoga mat. And there, on a lonely rooftop somewhere in Thailand, step by step, movement after movement, I greeted the sun, I greeted the cinder block city, I greeted the people around me I'd never see.
My feet were warmed by the sun kissed roof, my sweat dripped onto the concrete, mixing with the city grime. I breathed in and out and in under the great sun, breathing my thanks and farewell to a beautiful country.
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