I know, I know- the experience is so far removed from The Dead Kennedys' song, but that hasn't stopped it from being a bit of an ear worm for the last week and recurrently popping into my head on the plane here, ever since I discovered that tourists can go on day trips to the Killing Fields and watch the eponymous movie on the tour coach. Trumped only by an Asia Pop number whose words "I really, really, really, really, really, really really like you...," repeated ad nauseous on the place from KL to Phnom Penh yesterday, finally managed to displace it! Anyway, here, in case you don't remember it, or weren't born when it was playing on the radio is the aforementioned punk-flavoured DK song:
I doubt we'll be going on that macabre tour. It's sobering to be reminded of Cambodia's recent history though, indeed it is always present in my awareness. I wonder how it may have influenced the dour passport official, pushing sixty, whom we encountered as we made out way through customs (I wondered, did he lose his entire family to Pol Pot? He was incredibly grim!). There is also a landline museum just out of Siem Reap. But even that is a maybe. I would much rather celebrate the big picture history: The temple ruins including but not limited to Angkor Wat, second only to the Mayan ruins of Mexico in age, and Bayon, famous for its carved faces, and the French Indochine recent past which is visible in the architecture in some parts of Cambodia. As tourists, we can support Cambodia's recovery by supporting local business addressing poverty, taking an interest in Cambodia Living Arts, etc. I am pleased that the manager of our hotel is French, and has a connection with Australia, having lived in Brisbane and with an adult daughter living in Perth. But first, a few restful, restorative days by the sea, with the option to explore the nearby National parks if we choose to. The staff here are lovely, and respond well to my desire to learn the lingo. The very least we can say is 'ah kun" (sp?)to thank them for their gracious servitude.
The road here was a reminder that Asia is a land of animal and two well activity, the towns flanking the ribbons of road nudging the countryside just beyond. Such an interplay of familiar modernity and post-modernity, and the relics of old, old ways: white, Brahmin-looking cows wandering, grazing or being herded, the entire length of National Highway No 3 leading from PP to Kep (144km, 3 hours duration), sometimes pulling a cart; pigs conveyed in claustrophobic cages, on the back of open trucks. even here at our quiet hotel in Kep, the pet pony roams free and grazes, sometimes on our verandah (Chris, squeamish about such things, is hopeful it doesn't leave any fragrant souvenirs!). Best of all, the sounds of a thriving garden can be heard by day and night: frogs, cicadas and abundant bird life. These are comforting noises, and do not disturb my sleep. Unlike the drone of traffic in busy, urban Asia. Thankfully we are in a relatively sleepy area and removed form all that. Well worth the long trip along a bumpy highway, after a ten hour but minimally painful plane trip, including transit time.
By the way, yes- the title of this post is meant to be said with British Raj accent!
