Look, Cambodia has its wonderful qualities. But, we're human and as such suffer from all psychological biases, including recency bias. The end of our trip was a dumpster fire and we are beyond ready to leave. So as I sit in the airport and wrap up this blog post, I will do my best to strip biases and tell you the truest version of our trip with all the wonderful moments interwoven before it all went to sewage.
(And yes, this blog itself is totally out of order because we have yet to tell you about our time in Thailand or Laos or Vietnam, but... I guess we're doing a bit of LIFO here, mainly because we just want to be done with Cambodia for a while.)
Arrival
In not our first act of separation from the Intrepid group, we forewent the 10-hour public bus ride for a 50-minute flight from Ho Chi Minh to Phnom Penh. The exit process from Vietnam and entry process into Cambodia were equally smooth with our pre-obtained visas, and after collecting our belongings we glided into a Grab (SEA’s Uber/Lyft equivalent) Taxi and arrived at our Intrepid selected hotel.
Cardamom Hotel and Apartments. Our stay there was brief, and yet felt too long. It was probably the 10th place we were set to stay on this tour, but immediately secured its position as the least pleasant. It’s not that it was outwardly offensive, but something about the place had us both uneasy. Maybe it was the thoughtless use of space or the ecru and ochre color palette that whispered, “smokers wanted,” but I don’t think that was quite it. We made it to our room, and what had us leaving our belongings unpacked was the macabre pool visible through the bars on our room’s windows. Neither empty nor full, the pool sat as sort of a relic of the hotel’s hay day and as a rough example of its current state. If ever a hotel were seeming to fade away, this is one.
The eerieness of it was too much, and we opted to move our belongings to my friend’s place who had offered it up as he would be out of town for the holidays. We initially were going to stay at the hotel to be near the group for the first two days, and stay at Bora’s place when Intrepid moved on without us, but with a sense of purpose and conviction, we walked out of the hotel with our bags and grabbed the next available cab.
Dining in the Dark
Our first night in Phnom Penh, we joined two of our friends for a multi-course dining experience in the dark. Not only were the lights completely turned out, but we were also in the dark regarding the menu, aside from having chosen the vegetarian option (which admittedly, made the evening much less scary).
Course after course was delivered and we each fumbled with silverware, beverages, and consumption etiquette. (Sure that no one could see me, during two courses I simply picked up my plate and moved my face towards it.)
The food was delightful, and the experience both unique and satisfying. Our senses were heightened, which meant that we ate our dinner with more attention and curiosity, and also listened to each other more seriously as we were lacking any non-verbal communication cues.
It wasn’t all easy though, we each admitted to having to overcome initial anxiety. A breathlessness overcame me when I was first seated, feeling no anchor in space except for the chair I was sitting on. I couldn’t tell anything about my surroundings (or whether there were any surroundings) and it was trippy. One member of our party was hit pretty hard and we walked him through some breathing and calming exercises.
After we completed our meal, we were brought back downstairs into the light where we were shown images of the food we had eaten. One dish, in particular, was surprising in that both Heather and I felt that there was an unwieldy cracker-type item that had taken over the plate. In the image, it was pretty modest and just a side to the main part of the course. But it must have been where both of us kept placing our fork or hands and so it felt disruptively and deceptively large.
The restaurant isn’t just a novel spot to eat. It serves a greater purpose as it employs visually impaired staff, giving opportunities in restauranting that might be otherwise difficult to come by for the visually impaired. Overall, I’d highly recommend DID, but would caution folks prone to anxiety to brace yourself for both sensory deprivation and heightening, which can feel overwhelming when also consuming unknown food.
Christmas
Christmas is my most favorite time of year. And it seems to be a holiday that the western world fully embraces, regardless of religious background. Companies slow down, shops decorate, pop stars deliver new seasonal hits. I absolutely love it. I always have, likely due to the fantastic job my parents did of making it a sacred and special time of year for us five rambunctious kids.
Since Heather and I have been together, my joy has only grown. Our first year knowing each other, we didn’t celebrate Christmas together, but noting this a real miss for two festive hearts, in the summer we held a make-up on August 29th called “Summer Christmas.” (The day before was Summer’s Eve.)
This year, we knew Christmas would take on a different tone. Not only does SE Asia not really celebrate Christmas (I mean, they do in decorations and music in many shops, but it’s more of a western consideration than an immersion into the spirit), but it’s also my first year ever not celebrating with my family. Plus, Heather and I planned to not celebrate on the 25th while in the middle of our 30 day SE Asia trip, but on Dec 31st when we were back In Bangkok and reunited with our large luggage (which may/may not have some gifts hidden for Heather therein).
So, the 25th. It started out with a restful morning and a trip to Starbucks. The Nitro coffees were made weirdly (they tasted soapy) so we got a make-up beverage and sat there and worked for a couple of hours. I was trying to arrange transit for us on the 26th to Koh Rong Samloem, an island off the mainland Cambodia from where we were set to dive. But infrastructure is tricky and the trip would involve one of the unreliable ferries and a 4-8 hour drive (yes, that much variability!). To make matters worse, when I finally landed on a ferry decision, it wouldn’t reserve… it kept declining all of our credit cards.
I spent the full 2 hours at Starbucks working on booking, and then we had to leave to go to our Khmer massage that Heather had lovingly booked. It was quite different from our Vietnamese massage (which I promise to do show and tell on in a future blog), but some things were similar like the mix of chiropractic cracking and the donning of a massage uniform (this time a white linen top and bottoms not unlike nurse’s scrubs). The massage was wonderful, but I still had work to do after.
We went back to our place in Phnom Penh, and I continued trying to book things while Heather went to the post office. Three blessed hours later I had booked everything but had started to sink into a Christmas depression. Part over how much Christmas I had wasted trying to book something that—in a place with better infrastructure—I could have arranged in 20 minutes, and part over just missing anything Christmassy.
We went to the gym and were going to do a workout I had planned but depression got the best of me, so I handed Heather the workout I had scribbled on an envelope and asked her to do it alone because I was holding back tears. I’ll fast forward a bit, but I struggled a lot feeling just moped out. I knew this was a Christmas possibility, but that didn’t really make it easier to take. When Heather finished her workout, I was really trying to turn the corner and we spoke a bit before she left and in the conversation, I committed that I would finish a workout because I knew if I didn’t/couldn’t, I would sink deeper.
I did and got back home around five. I walked into the apartment and…
Christmas music played.
A scented candle burned.
And my eyes adjusted to a simple yet beautifully decorated living space. A window dressed with garland and decorations. A small tree and a wreath. Christmas Krispie Kreme donuts.
I know I was already weepy this day, but I walked in and this time cried in joy. Heather had successfully made Cambodia feel like home for Christmas.
We spent the evening eating Dominos pizza (a bit different from home with virtually no sauce and corn on the veggie pizza) and watching the Santa Clause on my laptop.
Koh Rong Samloem
As mentioned, we planned to end our trip with some diving off of Koh Rong Samloem. In some ways, I wish we hadn’t.
December 26th: The Precursor
Let me be what our trip this day wasn’t: brief.
7:15 am, picked up in Phnom Pehn
1:15 pm, arrived in Sihanoukville--a grimy, dusty sort of place--after six-hour drive (only 100 miles)
2:35 pm, boarded a ferry that was 1 hour late
3:30 pm, arrived at Koh Rong Samloem, awaited a boat taxi to our lodge
3:45 pm, attempted check-in while the internet was down
4:30 pm, finally shown to our room
I’ll leave the emotion of the day to your imagination. The lodge itself was quaint but oversold. Photos and AirBnb description painted a yoga oasis, quiet and away from it all. There was no yoga, the restaurant was under construction, and the thrill of the seaside jungle came without AC. Regardless, we were absolutely stoked to be resting and free from the bindings of our bags, and sat outside in our sweet hanging chairs before heading to dinner at the make-shift eating place which served delectable curry.
After negotiating a boat taxi to Dive Nation for 8:45 AM, we retired early ready to dive the next day.
December 27th & 28th: Dive Days
So, we had booked my first liveaboard dive experience. But before we could even board the boat to the dive shop, a dive rep met us at our lodge and explained that we could no longer do a liveaboard because a couple had canceled, leaving us two shy of the overnight requirement. This left us scrambling to find a different stay for the night as the lodge we were at on the 26th was booked.
Booking.com delivered and we were set for just two days of dives rather than the liveaboard. The diving itself was so-so. The good: we saw a handful of small octopuses, Heather’s spirit animal, so obvi that’s great. We also saw some rad starfish, an eel, stonefish, and a handful of other noteworthy creatures. The drift diving was also fun as the current was pretty swift and at times it was really pushing and pulling us along. The bad: the water was pretty murky (6-12 feet visibility) and a lot of the coral was dead. I may be falling into the narrative fallacy, but I wouldn’t be surprised if much of this is to do with the recent influx of development in the area. It was hard not to notice the garbage floating in the bay, and we had heard of a recent Chinese resort on the island that was shut down because they had planned no sewage management and were literally pumping everything into the ocean. Based on locals’ descriptions of the Chinese big presence here, I don’t think a Cousin Eddie comparison is far off.
But overall, we were pleased to have dived. The temperature was great as was the company, and it was good to just not be traveling anywhere…
December 28th: Sihanoukville
… That is, of course, until we needed to get back to the mainland. Because doing the public ferry would be tight after our two dives on the 28th, we worked with the dive shop to drop us off in their boat in Sihanoukville after the dives. This seemed like a favorable set-up considering the ferry was both unreliable and not terribly convenient, where our own direct transport would be both.
After dropping off the other divers on Koh Rong Samloem, Heather and I nestled in on the top of the boat for the slow 2 hour trip to Sihanoukville. We watched the sun slowly set while waves gently swayed our boat as we inched closer to the cityscape.
And in a moment of pure peace, it seemed that all sounds stopped and it was just us and the sunset. I was sinking into the tranquility when Heather brought me to earth, “That’s not good,” she said.
“What?”
“The engine just went out.” Ah… the price of peace.
Time passed and checking on the map and my watch, we were only roughly halfway there. Uncertain of what we would do if the engine didn’t restart, we practiced patience and continued to watch the sun dip into the horizon.
Fifteen minutes or so passed and we heard some kicks and sputters and the engine started again and we were on our way. The two crew left on the boat didn’t speak any English, so we couldn’t really request status updates.
And a half-hour later, with the sun traded below the ocean for a pink and orange sky, the engine went out again.
More waiting, more wishing. This time, watching the moon rise.
The engine started again, and we slowly made our way to land, almost a full 3 hours after we had left Koh Rong Samloem.
Here is where reality failed our expectations:
We expected to arrive with some daylight
We expected to be able to order a cab
We expected some form of pedestrian area after the pier to at least settle ourselves
None of this existed. There were no cabs or tuk-tuks that were able to be booked, except for the sketchy passerby claiming the Cambodian catch-phrase, “Hello, tuk-tuk?”
Here was our dilemma. Already having switched our hotel reservation to the closest we could to the pier, we still had a 35-minute walk, in the dark, with our belongings. There were no sidewalks, in fact, no roads to speak of. Should we take our chance with men we don’t know, trying to communicate in a language we don’t speak, in an open-sided vehicle, or do we try to walk the whole way?
We set about walking. Here is Heather’s description of Sihanoukville:
"Sihanoukville is one giant, deafeningly loud, ceaseless, construction site. Dirt roads are turned into mud pits from broken water pipes spilling out into the “street.” Your clothes, skin, hair, and nostrils are coated in red dirt after mere moments outside. Warm pools of foul “water” splash pedestrians from the steady parade of massive trucks passing through. Rubbish is piled up high in every direction--outside of every restaurant, residence, and shop. The smell of rancid garbage turns your stomach sour and mouth breathing is the only means of escape. It is a nightmare."
(Heather and I take different approaches to careful breathing. Heather can be induced to vomiting around unpleasant smells, so she mouth breathes. I imagine my nose as a free air-filtration system, far superior to my open mouth, so I will only nose-breathe in moments of concern. Keeping my mouth shut also prevents me from tasting flying debris of any variety.)
Now, imagine this scene, carrying 50 pounds, wearing flipflops. There was that time I stepped on the road and started sinking in. There was that time a man on a motorbike started following us and asking our plans for staying because he had a room available for us. There were the countless times men yelled to us, “Hello, tuk-tuk.” There was that time we walked past a row of men shouting and whistling at us, one pulling up his shirt and rubbing his belly. There was that time a woman walked by us with her two naked children, who innocently waved at us and repeated, “Hello… hellooooo…” There was that time we had to stand off the “road” to allow a construction vehicle to pass. There was that time we walked past cows huddling off the road juxtaposed with construction vehicles, motorbikes, and tuk-tuks.
It was the vilest walk I’ve ever done. My flip-flopped feet caked with clay-like dirt at the end. New blisters from the uneven walking open to the ingredients of whatever mixtures we had walked through. We did arrive though, finally at the hotel. Check-in promised to take a bit of time and they encouraged us to sit on the couch, but we refused as there was no part of us fit for sitting in a public area.
Upon arriving in our room, we immediately showered (ourselves and flipflops), donned the provided robes, ate Pringles and Cup Noodles, and drank beer in bed while watching Scrooged from my laptop.
December 29th: Please, get us out of here.
We were set to finally leave Cambodia (and more specifically, Sihanoukville). And we were READY. Our pre-arranged taxi picked us up at 8 AM, dropped us at the Sihanoukville airport, and we entered ready for our 11 AM flight into Bangkok and our one night splurgy stay at the Waldorf Astoria (thanks to credit card points). We thanked the driver, entered the airport, checked the board and saw this:
Our flight, the only flight to Bangkok, was canceled.
I thought I couldn’t loathe Sihanoukville anymore after the delayed ferry, the garbage-laden ocean, or the mud-walk. But here I was, new reasons.
There are two possibilities for what really happened. 1) Our airline just went out of business. 2) The airline, which we later discovered from a German co-strandee, only has two planes and so if one isn't working, flights are canceled.
So, what to do? We just want to get out of Cambodia. We looked into a taxi to Bangkok, but they would only take us to the border. We looked into other flights, but none worked out of Sihanoukville.
We ended up getting a cab ($70) back to Phnom Penh to hopefully grab one of the flights departing that busier airport into Bangkok.
En route, we wrestled with booking another flight because we’re a little gun shy. What if our car breaks down? What if we hit traffic? What if traffic hits us? What if what if what if? And we can’t wait too long because we don’t want to not have a flight… We ended up booking about half way through the trip when it seemed possible we would make it to Phnom Penh, but not in time for the 3 PM flight.
The taxi journey was for the most part fine with some unpleasantries. They included:
That time I fell asleep and he grabbed my empty can of soda water from the backseat and threw it out his window
The nonstop phone conversation or Khmer music playing
The fun rest stops we had with sketchy toilets and voyeur chickens
When we were arriving at the airport (so close!) and he had forgotten it was an airport run and missed the airport and asked us where we were going
But we made it. We made it to the airport. We made it to our 5:15 PM flight, and we made it to the Waldorf. Not at noon like we had hoped, but we made it and for that we are grateful.
** Skip if you are squeamish. Below describes the Cambodian genocide **
In all seriousness
Look, truth is, we had a rough last couple of days in Cambodia, but after being here for just eight days, I don’t think there’s much pity that two well-to-do travelers really deserve.
Cambodia is the way it is for a reason. It’s a young country trying to break out of the shadow of its past, and the shadow is dark. 90% of the population is under the age of 50. If you aren’t familiar with the tragic and violent past of Cambodia, it’s worth a study:
In brief, in April 1975, around the end of the Vietnam war, the Khmer Rouge took power under the promises of a better life for the Cambodians. They marched through the streets of Phnom Penh to cheers from the citizens. The regime that was overthrown by the Khmer Rouge was the right-wing Lon Nol, an American-supported leader that had been part of a coup on the previous head of Cambodia, Prince Sihanouk. However, distrust and distaste for America were high, especially due to the U.S. bombings on Cambodia to destroy Vietnamese trade routes during the Vietnam War (bombings that, in fact, continued after the end of the Vietnam War in order to protect the power of Lon Nol).
In efforts to restart society, and form an agrarian, largely "equal" population, the Khmer Rouge, led by Pol Pot, set about resetting Cambodia.
Religion, money, private property was abolished. People were captured and forced to work in fields and farms. Intellectuals were targeted.
And it only escalated. Citizens were captured, held in labor camps, tortured, forced to confess to being traitors. Rape was common. Everything was brutal and people who weren't captured were still dying of starvation and illness.
The average age of the Khmer Rouge soldiers carrying out violent orders? 17. A real-life Lord of the Flies.
Part of our early days in Cambodia was spent studying this history and visiting the Killing Fields and Tuol Sleng Prison (now a genocide museum). Headshots of the victims and soldiers bring a stark awareness to the lives and youth lost to the tragedy. Torture devices are still on display as they were.
At the killing fields, earth is disrupted by burial mounds found to contain ripped clothing and traumatized bones reaching out for air. Trees are bloodied and were found with pieces of brain hanging from the bark as remnants of the babies and small children who were killed by grabbing hold of their ankles and bashing them against the tree.
The regime lasted just under four years and during that time around 2 million people were killed by the Khmer Rouge. But that doesn't even tell the whole story. The 1970 population of more than 7 million in 1980 "lost slightly less than 4,000,000 people to war, rebellion, man-made famine, genocide, politicide, and mass murder." Over the span of ten years, Cambodia lost half its population.
The people today want to get out of that. Phnom Penh is abuzz with energy and new young ideas. My friend’s place is walking distance to two entrepreneurship incubators. But the people still suffer. And they, short of resources, short of infrastructure, clamor for their piece of success or an easier life. So when investments roll in from places like China, it’s no wonder the money isn’t rejected (despite the corruption and pollution that comes with the deal).
No, Cambodia isn’t a tropical dream, a developed oasis. It’s gritty, it’s unpleasant at times, but it’s young and trying. I think it’s in its pimply adolescence. It’s got some great potential and natural resources, it’s what happens next that will determine the type of nation (and perhaps destination) that Cambodia will become. The shifts it has made to rebuild a nation after the decimation are astonishing when put into context.
So, yeah, it was hard to get around. It wasn't always clean. We didn't always feel safe. But we do appreciate and understand more than ever a nation and a culture that is trying feverishly to create more for itself. It's just experiencing some growing pains.
** Feel free to start reading again here **
And, to put a point on it and end outside of the dumpster fire stories, here are the best things Heather and I enjoyed:
A Starbucks reserve with people wishing us, “Happy Merry Christmas”
A small Japanese sushi bar (8 seats) that served Omakase of Japanese quality but SEA prices
An open walking space in the center if Phnom Penh with well-manicured landscape and several temples and monuments
Staying at my friend Bora's place where he left us hoodie shower towels
The idyllic beach (at the hotel we had to stay because our overnight dive trip was canceled)
The hidden restaurant/bar with a quiet view of the bustling Russian Market and slow sunset
Farewell, Cambodia. Really.
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