Getting thru Cambodian immigration was a breeze. A couple of grunts and two stamps by the officer and we were done.
More on the sights later.
Monday, September 24, 2018
The Night Train
Getting thru Cambodian immigration was a breeze. A couple of grunts and two stamps by the officer and we were done.
More on the sights later.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Returning To Spring But Missing Red Hat
I'm on my return leg from SE Asia, leaving behind eternal summer for a new spring at home. I can't help but wonder what "red hat girl" is doing. On two consecutive days we met her outside the Royal Palace in Phnom Penh selling cold water to tourists.
I can't get her out of my mind.
On the second day, she remembered us from the previous day and said she had waited for us that morning but had not seen us. We spent some time walking and talking with her that late afternoon. She pointed out her father nearby, working as a tuk-tuk driver, and her mom was there also selling water and snacks. I gladly overpaid for our waters, paying $2 instead of the going rate of $1 each. I just did not have the heart to try to bargain her down. I came so close to giving her a $50 bill and telling her it was payment for her smile. But I held back, not sure that it was the right thing to do.
This girl, whose name I cannot remember, is 14 years old and works nearly everyday doing what she was doing. She told me she studies for one hour each night in reply to my question about school, but does not attend school really.
She is all covered up to avoid the sun, skin whiteness being prized there. She rolled up her sleeve and showed us her arm, which as significantly lighter than her face is in the picture below. Although she did have a bead of sweat on her forehead, she was not hot - this was still the end of the cool season for her.
She is bright, apparently happy, and intelligent. She seems to have a strong family connection, all working together. So why is it so hard for me to move on?
I think back to my own two daughters when they were around this age. They weren't having to help support the family but were immersed in that bizarre American pre and teenage girl culture. Their daily crises were not about food and shelter, but things far more trivial, however real they seemed at the time. Not to knock them at all. We Americans generally don't have these kinds of worries, even near the bottom of our economic scale. At least not like I have seen this trip, or my previous travels in Mexico.
I guess my heart went out to her because I'm a Dad. I see girls like her, and like with my own, I want to help. I want to support and comfort. I want to help them be successful. and this pretty little girl struck that note in me for some reason.
I don't have a pithy close or moral to share. I'm still thinking about "Red Hat" and not sure what really to say or conclude. I hope she is well and stays so bright and happy.
I can't get her out of my mind.
On the second day, she remembered us from the previous day and said she had waited for us that morning but had not seen us. We spent some time walking and talking with her that late afternoon. She pointed out her father nearby, working as a tuk-tuk driver, and her mom was there also selling water and snacks. I gladly overpaid for our waters, paying $2 instead of the going rate of $1 each. I just did not have the heart to try to bargain her down. I came so close to giving her a $50 bill and telling her it was payment for her smile. But I held back, not sure that it was the right thing to do.
This girl, whose name I cannot remember, is 14 years old and works nearly everyday doing what she was doing. She told me she studies for one hour each night in reply to my question about school, but does not attend school really.
She is all covered up to avoid the sun, skin whiteness being prized there. She rolled up her sleeve and showed us her arm, which as significantly lighter than her face is in the picture below. Although she did have a bead of sweat on her forehead, she was not hot - this was still the end of the cool season for her.
She is bright, apparently happy, and intelligent. She seems to have a strong family connection, all working together. So why is it so hard for me to move on?
I think back to my own two daughters when they were around this age. They weren't having to help support the family but were immersed in that bizarre American pre and teenage girl culture. Their daily crises were not about food and shelter, but things far more trivial, however real they seemed at the time. Not to knock them at all. We Americans generally don't have these kinds of worries, even near the bottom of our economic scale. At least not like I have seen this trip, or my previous travels in Mexico.
I guess my heart went out to her because I'm a Dad. I see girls like her, and like with my own, I want to help. I want to support and comfort. I want to help them be successful. and this pretty little girl struck that note in me for some reason.
I don't have a pithy close or moral to share. I'm still thinking about "Red Hat" and not sure what really to say or conclude. I hope she is well and stays so bright and happy.
Impressions From My Trip
Before I head to the airport, below are some general impressions from my trip.
Most Friendly People:
1. Cambodians
2. Thai (close second)
3. Vietnamese (not that they were unfriendly)
Easiest Country To Communicate In:
1. Thailand, many knew English and basic Thai was easy to pick up
2. Khmer was easy to pick up also, but generally less English understood
3. Vietnamese is far more difficult to hear and repeat, at least for me. Most outside of the hotels speak little English and you almost never see English in signs at all (on road, or on the buffet)
Most Beautiful:
1. Cambodia, hands down. The temples and the jungle, and even the Tonle Sap.
2 . Vietnam, really because of the beauty of Phu Quoc. Saigon is just another big city.
3. Bangkok definitely has its own beauty, but it is also big and loud. The countryside is relatively impoverished and dirty. I did not go to their beautiful islands, so I cannot judge against Vietnam.
Modes Of Transportation: (list of ways we travels on this trip)
1. All kinds of jets and turboprops
2. Train, including overnight sleeper
3. Subway
4. Tuk-tuk
5. Pickup truck bus
6. Double decker bus
7. Regular bus
8. Private car
9. Cabs of all kinds in all countries
9. Bicycle-thingie, in Burma
10. Enclosed fast ferry, Ha Tien to Phu Quoc island
Hottest Temps:
1. Cambodia.
2. Thailand
3. Vietnam
Best Food:
1. Thailand, by far
2. Vietnam (oh the BBQ)
3. Cambodia
Using The Facilities:
1. Few understand what "rest room" means. You should say toilet (French word generally understood) or WC (most signs use this).
2. Always take travel TP, hand sanitizer, and wet wipes. You sometimes will desperately desire all three.
3. Almost never will you have anything to dry your hands on, that's what pockets are for apparently.
4. One reason I think you take your shoes off before entering many places is because of what you stand in when you, well, have to go....
5. It is far better it seems to be male than female in this area. The logistics are easier.
Phrases I've Learned:
Thai -
1. Nit-noi (little bit, you use this when they ask if you speak Thai)
2. Sabai dee mai? (how are you)
3. Sabai dee (fine)
4. Sawatdee khrap (good morning, afternoon, evening)
5. Sawatdee (reply to good morning...)
6. Chue arie? (what is your name)
7. Chan chu (my name is)
8. Laa kawn (goodbye)
9. Kop kuhn kop (thank you, you have to draw out the last kop like "kaaaaaaap")
10. Kop kuhn mat kop (thank you very much)
Khmer:
1. Chom reap suor (hello)
2. Sok sebai che te? (how are you - formal, shorten to sok sebai for informal)
3. Sok sebai (fine)
4. Chom reap leah (goodbye)
5. Aw kuhn (thank you)
6. Te aw kuhn (no thank you)
7. Aw kuhn tom tom (thank you big big, very much)
8. Aw Kuhn chan (thank you so much)
9. Tik-tik (little bit)
Viet:
1. Com ahn (thank you)
2. Sing chao (hello)
Traffic:
1. In all countries, traffic is hectic. Vietnam and Cambodia drive on the right, Thailand on the left. Primary mode of transportation is the motorbike. I've seen a family of four on one. I've seen a man and two live pigs on one. They drive in and around cars, on sidewalks, against traffic - whatever gets the job done.
2. Beeping. Lots and lots here. But, maybe 90% is not as we would use it - for annoyance or anger - but to let other vehicles know where you are. They beep to say "coming up behind you" or "I'm passing".
3. Many intersections have neither light nor sign to control traffic. You beep as you approach, and begin to merge thru oncoming from all directions. There is no "you get to the intersection first, you go first" policy. It often is a scary maze of vehicles going all directions on all sides.
Most Friendly People:
1. Cambodians
2. Thai (close second)
3. Vietnamese (not that they were unfriendly)
Easiest Country To Communicate In:
1. Thailand, many knew English and basic Thai was easy to pick up
2. Khmer was easy to pick up also, but generally less English understood
3. Vietnamese is far more difficult to hear and repeat, at least for me. Most outside of the hotels speak little English and you almost never see English in signs at all (on road, or on the buffet)
Most Beautiful:
1. Cambodia, hands down. The temples and the jungle, and even the Tonle Sap.
2 . Vietnam, really because of the beauty of Phu Quoc. Saigon is just another big city.
3. Bangkok definitely has its own beauty, but it is also big and loud. The countryside is relatively impoverished and dirty. I did not go to their beautiful islands, so I cannot judge against Vietnam.
Modes Of Transportation: (list of ways we travels on this trip)
1. All kinds of jets and turboprops
2. Train, including overnight sleeper
3. Subway
4. Tuk-tuk
5. Pickup truck bus
6. Double decker bus
7. Regular bus
8. Private car
9. Cabs of all kinds in all countries
9. Bicycle-thingie, in Burma
10. Enclosed fast ferry, Ha Tien to Phu Quoc island
Hottest Temps:
1. Cambodia.
2. Thailand
3. Vietnam
Best Food:
1. Thailand, by far
2. Vietnam (oh the BBQ)
3. Cambodia
Using The Facilities:
1. Few understand what "rest room" means. You should say toilet (French word generally understood) or WC (most signs use this).
2. Always take travel TP, hand sanitizer, and wet wipes. You sometimes will desperately desire all three.
3. Almost never will you have anything to dry your hands on, that's what pockets are for apparently.
4. One reason I think you take your shoes off before entering many places is because of what you stand in when you, well, have to go....
5. It is far better it seems to be male than female in this area. The logistics are easier.
Phrases I've Learned:
Thai -
1. Nit-noi (little bit, you use this when they ask if you speak Thai)
2. Sabai dee mai? (how are you)
3. Sabai dee (fine)
4. Sawatdee khrap (good morning, afternoon, evening)
5. Sawatdee (reply to good morning...)
6. Chue arie? (what is your name)
7. Chan chu (my name is)
8. Laa kawn (goodbye)
9. Kop kuhn kop (thank you, you have to draw out the last kop like "kaaaaaaap")
10. Kop kuhn mat kop (thank you very much)
Khmer:
1. Chom reap suor (hello)
2. Sok sebai che te? (how are you - formal, shorten to sok sebai for informal)
3. Sok sebai (fine)
4. Chom reap leah (goodbye)
5. Aw kuhn (thank you)
6. Te aw kuhn (no thank you)
7. Aw kuhn tom tom (thank you big big, very much)
8. Aw Kuhn chan (thank you so much)
9. Tik-tik (little bit)
Viet:
1. Com ahn (thank you)
2. Sing chao (hello)
Traffic:
1. In all countries, traffic is hectic. Vietnam and Cambodia drive on the right, Thailand on the left. Primary mode of transportation is the motorbike. I've seen a family of four on one. I've seen a man and two live pigs on one. They drive in and around cars, on sidewalks, against traffic - whatever gets the job done.
2. Beeping. Lots and lots here. But, maybe 90% is not as we would use it - for annoyance or anger - but to let other vehicles know where you are. They beep to say "coming up behind you" or "I'm passing".
3. Many intersections have neither light nor sign to control traffic. You beep as you approach, and begin to merge thru oncoming from all directions. There is no "you get to the intersection first, you go first" policy. It often is a scary maze of vehicles going all directions on all sides.
Monday, March 26, 2012
Saigon War Remnants Museum
Erin and I visited the War Remnants Museum Monday morning, which could have easily gone by the name of Victory Over The Imperialist American Dogs In Spite Of Devilish Atrocities Museum. As an American, if you visit, be sure you bone up on the basic facts of this conflict or you could come away believing that the French Indochina war and our Vietnam war were one in the same and that the peace loving North Vietnamese were just working happily in their fields when American bombers suddenly appeared overhead to rain bombs down specifically on women and children. Sometimes the most dangerous lies are those that have bits of truth within them.
You will not read or hear about the Viet Cong programs to kill educated South Vietnamese to protect their revolution, much akin to what the Khmer Rouge did in Cambodia, just on a smaller scale. Nor that if they entered a village and saw a small child with a US bandage on the leg, that they would cut the leg off in front of the parents for taking the medic's aid - a warning to others - just like the Taliban have done in Afghanistan.
But, it was a sobering time even knowing the propaganda. No doubt many humans suffered, and greatly - especially children, and that always breaks my heart. I know we did not have clean hands either - war brings out both the best and the worst in people, and we Americans understand that all too well these last few years.
I thought that perhaps this visit was the most subsurface anti Americanism I had felt. There was a line of school children lined up getting ready to go in. They were watching me and I waved. The teacher scowled at me and motioned for the kids not to wave back - and none did. Perhaps a smiling and waving (clearly) American might spoil the lesson about to be imparted.
You will not read or hear about the Viet Cong programs to kill educated South Vietnamese to protect their revolution, much akin to what the Khmer Rouge did in Cambodia, just on a smaller scale. Nor that if they entered a village and saw a small child with a US bandage on the leg, that they would cut the leg off in front of the parents for taking the medic's aid - a warning to others - just like the Taliban have done in Afghanistan.
But, it was a sobering time even knowing the propaganda. No doubt many humans suffered, and greatly - especially children, and that always breaks my heart. I know we did not have clean hands either - war brings out both the best and the worst in people, and we Americans understand that all too well these last few years.
I thought that perhaps this visit was the most subsurface anti Americanism I had felt. There was a line of school children lined up getting ready to go in. They were watching me and I waved. The teacher scowled at me and motioned for the kids not to wave back - and none did. Perhaps a smiling and waving (clearly) American might spoil the lesson about to be imparted.
The Cu Chi Tunnels or Kill The Americans!
During the American War (what the Vietnamese call the Vietnam war), there existed a complex of tunnels underneath and around many US bases in the Saigon area. Some were three levels deep. In them, Viet Cong lived, ate, planned, cared for sick, and prepared to battle US troops.
On Sunday, we visited some of these tunnels, about 60km outside of Saigon. They are very small, built for Vietnamese sized bodies and not westerners. Some of them have been slightly enlarged to accommodate us.
Erin and I went with a guide and a Chinese couple. The guide hurried us thru the sites. We sat thru a 15 minute film, shot in 1967 by the North Vietnamese that talked about American devils and various heroes of the revolution and their prowess in killing Americans. You could have gotten the impression that the peaceful peasants of Cu Chi were minding their own business in paradise when MK-82 bombs suddenly fell from the sky. Erin and I had to stifle laughs during. It was comical really, a caricature in many ways.
After that, maybe in revenge for our imperialist bad attitudes, our tunnel guide tried to kill us.
I volunteered to squeeze down into a hidden tunnel entrance and did it, no problem. All my years of caving helped I think. Then he hustled us thru (timeout: a female Vietnamese singer on the speaker is singing Foghat's Slow Ride as I type this. Surreal) about 20 meters of tunnel. Remember the heat and humidity? It is worse in the tunnels, and with less oxygen. We duck walked rapidly, gasping for air, sweat streaming like rain. We finally got to a large room (pics below) and back up for air. Good experience, but glad it is over.
A bit later ("you hurry!") he said we were going to do a tunnel that was a bit longer - 50 meters. Like an idiot, I did not mentally compare 20 and 50 to see what I as in for. There were twists and turns, ups and downs. We lagged behind a bit and I had to get out my iPhone to use for light. The tunnel then got smaller so that we were duck walking with heads hunched over. We went downhill a bit and I'm thinking that i really don't want to go any deeper. Had to slide down a slope on our butts - no way to crawl really. We stopped a few times and yelled "rest!" down the tunnel (we heard the Chinese couple relay this to our guide) but really there was precious little air to gasp in and recover. I briefly wondered if they had rescue personnel who could take us out, or if anybody had ever died touring the tunnels, but decided i would have to wait too long for rescue and continued on. Finally we came to a very small hole to go thru head first, stand up, and climb out into a room.
Had we gone another 5 meters I might well have been crying like a little girl and asking for my Mommy. Fortunately, I did not have to reveal that side of me to anyone. I know Erin, behind me, was in a similar state of distress. We surfaced and were given a tiny cup of hot tea for our exhaustion. Oh, and some dried tapioca root with a salt and red pepper dip. How refreshing! (Not)
By the way, last pics are of a Mig-21 and Mig-17 that were parked in the parking lot, rusting away.
On Sunday, we visited some of these tunnels, about 60km outside of Saigon. They are very small, built for Vietnamese sized bodies and not westerners. Some of them have been slightly enlarged to accommodate us.
Erin and I went with a guide and a Chinese couple. The guide hurried us thru the sites. We sat thru a 15 minute film, shot in 1967 by the North Vietnamese that talked about American devils and various heroes of the revolution and their prowess in killing Americans. You could have gotten the impression that the peaceful peasants of Cu Chi were minding their own business in paradise when MK-82 bombs suddenly fell from the sky. Erin and I had to stifle laughs during. It was comical really, a caricature in many ways.
After that, maybe in revenge for our imperialist bad attitudes, our tunnel guide tried to kill us.
I volunteered to squeeze down into a hidden tunnel entrance and did it, no problem. All my years of caving helped I think. Then he hustled us thru (timeout: a female Vietnamese singer on the speaker is singing Foghat's Slow Ride as I type this. Surreal) about 20 meters of tunnel. Remember the heat and humidity? It is worse in the tunnels, and with less oxygen. We duck walked rapidly, gasping for air, sweat streaming like rain. We finally got to a large room (pics below) and back up for air. Good experience, but glad it is over.
A bit later ("you hurry!") he said we were going to do a tunnel that was a bit longer - 50 meters. Like an idiot, I did not mentally compare 20 and 50 to see what I as in for. There were twists and turns, ups and downs. We lagged behind a bit and I had to get out my iPhone to use for light. The tunnel then got smaller so that we were duck walking with heads hunched over. We went downhill a bit and I'm thinking that i really don't want to go any deeper. Had to slide down a slope on our butts - no way to crawl really. We stopped a few times and yelled "rest!" down the tunnel (we heard the Chinese couple relay this to our guide) but really there was precious little air to gasp in and recover. I briefly wondered if they had rescue personnel who could take us out, or if anybody had ever died touring the tunnels, but decided i would have to wait too long for rescue and continued on. Finally we came to a very small hole to go thru head first, stand up, and climb out into a room.
Had we gone another 5 meters I might well have been crying like a little girl and asking for my Mommy. Fortunately, I did not have to reveal that side of me to anyone. I know Erin, behind me, was in a similar state of distress. We surfaced and were given a tiny cup of hot tea for our exhaustion. Oh, and some dried tapioca root with a salt and red pepper dip. How refreshing! (Not)
By the way, last pics are of a Mig-21 and Mig-17 that were parked in the parking lot, rusting away.
Friday, March 23, 2012
Going to Phu Quoc
Friday morning we were supposed to be picked up at our guest house at 7:15am for a ride to the bus station for our journey out of Cambodia. Erin and I were eating breakfast at 6:45 when the manager came over to tell us a driver was waiting on us now. We had just started eating. We had to run up to the room, cinch up our packs and hurry down to the van.
We were driven to a street corner where there were lots of people and a bus. The driver opened the van door and curtly said "you get out". This phrase would become our phrase of the day.
We took our packs and made our way thru the crowd, including street vendors hawking their wares (te aw kuhn). Boarded the bus. Turned out this was the 7:30 bus, and not our 8:30 bus. Apparently they did not fill up the first bus so they came to get us and I suppose cancelled the second bus.
This bus had no amenities at all. Cambodian pop songs blared along with a mid sized TV screen up by the driver. My noise cancellation headphone batteries were dead so I really had to crank up the volume to drown out the hideousness that was coming out of the TV.
A lot of our drive to Ha Tien, a border town, was on dirt roads. We rattled, swerved, and bumped. One older man got sick. We stopped at a lunch stop and the bathroom consists of walking to a field and doing you business (men only). There was one very very nasty bathroom (the term is generous) for the women.
Eventually the bus stopped on the side of the road and the man told us "you get out!" I woke Erin up and we scrambled off the bus and pulled our packs put from under. Then they hustled us to a waiting van that already had a few foreigners in it. "You get in!". The van took off down even more bumpy dirt roads. We stopped again and the man said "You give passports". He left the van for a while and returned. We have no idea what he did as their did not seem to be much other than street vendors around.
Finally we got to Cambodian exit station and he took our passports and facilitated our exit visas: "you get out!". We then walked across the border to the Vietnamese entry station. He again facilitated our entry and we each paid a $1 bribe to the officer.
Back on board the van. Bump. Swerve. Pick up a Canadian. We arrive at the high speed ferry and offload our bags: "you get out!". Erin and I have lunch with Nastya, a Russian girl from Moscow traveling alone. Fried rice and Vietnamese beer while sitting in child sized plastic chairs and table. The ferry itself was nice. We could have water ski'd behind it. A fast and air conditioned 2 hours to the island of Phu Quoc.
We arrive on a very small dock crammed with dozens of motorcycles looking for fares. We walk maybe 300 yards carrying our packs. Give our van ticket to a guy who crams 13 of us into a small non air conditioned minivan. Two British, one Russian, two Americans, two Spanish, one Swiss, one Vietnamese, and one unknown (and seemingly unknowable). A veritable United Nations of hot, sweaty, weary travelers immune to the discomfort and danger of their current mod of transportation. I only took one picture of this van, a shot from the outside.
Finally we arrive at our resort and are greeted by a very nice Frenchman named Gerard, who owns the resort. We are pleased to find his taste of wine to be excellent as we sip white wine and watch a fantastic sunset. Ahhhhh.
We were driven to a street corner where there were lots of people and a bus. The driver opened the van door and curtly said "you get out". This phrase would become our phrase of the day.
We took our packs and made our way thru the crowd, including street vendors hawking their wares (te aw kuhn). Boarded the bus. Turned out this was the 7:30 bus, and not our 8:30 bus. Apparently they did not fill up the first bus so they came to get us and I suppose cancelled the second bus.
This bus had no amenities at all. Cambodian pop songs blared along with a mid sized TV screen up by the driver. My noise cancellation headphone batteries were dead so I really had to crank up the volume to drown out the hideousness that was coming out of the TV.
A lot of our drive to Ha Tien, a border town, was on dirt roads. We rattled, swerved, and bumped. One older man got sick. We stopped at a lunch stop and the bathroom consists of walking to a field and doing you business (men only). There was one very very nasty bathroom (the term is generous) for the women.
Eventually the bus stopped on the side of the road and the man told us "you get out!" I woke Erin up and we scrambled off the bus and pulled our packs put from under. Then they hustled us to a waiting van that already had a few foreigners in it. "You get in!". The van took off down even more bumpy dirt roads. We stopped again and the man said "You give passports". He left the van for a while and returned. We have no idea what he did as their did not seem to be much other than street vendors around.
Finally we got to Cambodian exit station and he took our passports and facilitated our exit visas: "you get out!". We then walked across the border to the Vietnamese entry station. He again facilitated our entry and we each paid a $1 bribe to the officer.
Back on board the van. Bump. Swerve. Pick up a Canadian. We arrive at the high speed ferry and offload our bags: "you get out!". Erin and I have lunch with Nastya, a Russian girl from Moscow traveling alone. Fried rice and Vietnamese beer while sitting in child sized plastic chairs and table. The ferry itself was nice. We could have water ski'd behind it. A fast and air conditioned 2 hours to the island of Phu Quoc.
We arrive on a very small dock crammed with dozens of motorcycles looking for fares. We walk maybe 300 yards carrying our packs. Give our van ticket to a guy who crams 13 of us into a small non air conditioned minivan. Two British, one Russian, two Americans, two Spanish, one Swiss, one Vietnamese, and one unknown (and seemingly unknowable). A veritable United Nations of hot, sweaty, weary travelers immune to the discomfort and danger of their current mod of transportation. I only took one picture of this van, a shot from the outside.
Finally we arrive at our resort and are greeted by a very nice Frenchman named Gerard, who owns the resort. We are pleased to find his taste of wine to be excellent as we sip white wine and watch a fantastic sunset. Ahhhhh.
The Killing Fields
If you come Phnom Penh, you should visit two different sites related to the genocide that took place here in a 3 year period in the mid 1970s. The Khmer Rouge (Red / Communist Khmer), under the leadership of Pol Pot was responsible for killing 3 out of 8 million Cambodians. They killed teachers, lawyers, the educated and tried to return the entire country to an agrarian society. Phnom Penh was forcibly emptied in only 3 days and the population sent to forced labor farms.
In Phnom Penh there was a prison called Tuol Sleng where about 20,000 people were sent for torture, interrogation, and confession. There are pictures below of the prison and a picture of two boys convicted of being enemies of Angkar (the name the Khmer Rouge used to call their organization, which literally means the organization).
Outside of Phnom Penh is a place called Cheung Ek, where all the convicted prisoners from Tuol Sleng were sent for execution (and they were all convicted). They would be loaded into trucks at night, blindfolded, hands tied behind their backs. The trucks arrived amid the sound of blaring music and light generators (used to drown out the sounds of the dying from the local population). They were clubbed, hacked, beaten but not shot (bullets and guns cost money). Babies were grabbed by the feet and slammed against one particular tree to bash their heads in.
I also have a picture of typical Khmer Rouge dress, women on left, men on right. Children dressed the same. Another shot shows the clothing of victims still emerging from the ground at Cheoung Ek. The rains washes clothing, bone fragments, and teeth to the surface and the entire area has these things right under your feet.
We have seen on TV where the trial of the Tuol Sleng commandant is still going on, with some international oversight from the UN, but it is a long process. Ask any Cambodian about those times and you almost always get a story about the loss of parents or siblings. Cambodia is still trying to heal this horrific scar. Keep in mind that Cambodia really started over from scratch after the Khmer Rouge. The legal system, science, medicine, education - all were decimated. Technology and factories were scavenged or destroyed as Pol Pot restarted their society at Year Zero.
While some trials have been held and some ongoing, Pol Pot lived to 85 in relative comfort pending trial, enjoying his own family and grandchildren before he died. I am both secure and comforted in the knowledge that he is far from comfortable now and will remain this way forever.
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