View over the water back towards the Perth central business district.  I took this photo while on holiday in Western Australia a few years ago – it seemed as if everywhere I went was just one big photo opportunity.

There’s no doubt that for the independent traveller in Laos, any more than two wheels are a waste.  Buses, minivans or cars are a safe but boring and isolating option.  Hiring a motorbike for a few days is definitely the way to make the most of your time in this beautiful country.  With the dramatic improvement in road quality in recent years due to Chinese investment but minimal traffic, riding is a pleasure – even for people like me without much experience.  The ubiquitous 100cc scooters are powerful enough to take you anywhere on paved roads, and even some of the dirt roads would be fine in the dry season.  Nobody drives particularly fast, and there’s plenty of time to soak up the views, avoid wandering cattle and call out sabadee (hello) to the kids waving madly from the side of the road.  With all that in mind, it was time to explore the Bolaven Plateau.

Near the Cambodian border in the far south of Laos, the plateau rises from the surrounding countryside to a height of over 1300m.  It is famous for fantastic coffee and stunning waterfalls amongst other things, and when combined with lower temperatures than the sweltering heat of the lowlands seemed the perfect place to spend a couple of days.  The biggest town in the south, Pakse, is about 30km from the start of the plateau and despite having little to recommend it other than some surprisingly good Indian restaurants, is the best spot to rent a bike and stock up on supplies.  My basic, Chinese-made scooter cost 50,000 kip (around $5 USD) per day and other than a worn front brake seemed to be sound enough.

I had been travelling with new friends Alex and Katia for a few days and we all headed out of town by mid-morning in an attempt to beat the worst of the heat.  The small amount of traffic in Pakse quickly disappeared and we were left with just the occasional small truck, other scooters and numerous cows to look out for.  There are a variety of different routes around the plateau that range from a daytrip to a week or more.  We’d decided to go for a two day loop option with a night in Tat Lo, for no particular reason except it seemed to fit the amount of distance we wanted to cover.  As it happened the road was a lot better than we had expected so there’s no reason we couldn’t have gone further on the first day.  No reason, that is, other than the sudden downpour that showed up as we rode into town – being hammered by torrential rain at 50km/h+ was about as much fun as it sounds.

The road from Pakse towards Paksong is nice enough without being too exciting, but once we turned left towards Saravan and started climbing uphill, things took a dramatic turn for the better.  Stunning views over the fields and forests, giggling children running out of their houses to wave to us, old women smoking pipes as they walked slowly along the side of the road.  While it was obvious that many of the local hill tribe villagers were living in poverty, smiles and laughter were never far away whether we were stopping for a drink or to check directions, or simply riding slowly past.  I’ve mentioned in previous posts how friendly and good-natured most people are in Laos – the villagers in the Bolaven Plateau are no exception.

After stopping at Phasoume Resort to admire a picturesque waterfall, ignore the elephant ride and be mildly disheartened by the contrived ‘tribal village’ that was obviously built entirely for tourists, we arrived in pretty Tat Lo just in time to avoid the worst of the rain.  There were a surprising number of basic guesthouse options dotted along the main road, all offering rooms with a fan and cold water shower for a few dollars.  Not sure why we bothered with the shower option, mind you – we should have taken a leaf out of the locals’ book and utilised the waterfall that tumbles down in the middle of the village.  It was a great place for a swim and to just sit on the rocks admiring the view for a while once the sun returned later in the afternoon.

Nightlife in Tat Lo isn’t going to rival Koh Phangan or Vang Vieng any time soon, so after finding the one place in town with a happy (well, mildly cheerful) hour it was a relatively early night, to ensure that we all woke up bright and happy in the morning ready to face the … rain.  Damn.  Still, a great excuse for a leisurely breakfast and sampling some of that spectacular coffee.  The weather cleared as quickly as it had arrived and we were back on the road.  Not the right road, of course, but it was indeed a road, complete with misty mountains, colourful coffee plantations and farmers hauling their produce to the local markets.

After being cheerfully pointed in opposite directions by everyone we asked, we eventually found ourselves back on the main road, albeit via a somewhat longer route than was perhaps required.  Two more waterfalls (Et Tu, which isn’t on the maps that you’re given in town but is highly worth checking out) and Tad Fan (one of the biggest in the country) and a leisurely ride back to Pakse mid-afternoon completed an excellent couple of days.  Shortish distances, easy riding, beautiful scenery, great coffee and friendly people.  Is there anything more you could ask for from a road trip?  Somehow, I doubt it.

Tips for riding around the Bolaven Plateau

1.  There is plenty of competition for scooter and dirt bike hire in Pakse, so don’t be afraid to bargain a little.  Go for a test ride and make sure everything works as it should – if you aren’t happy, find another rental place.  Point out any obvious damage or scratches before you leave the shop so that there’s no debate when you return the bike a few days later.

2.  Wear long sleeves or plenty of sunscreen.  The breeze while you’re riding means that you won’t feel the strength of the sun until you stop – and notice that you could now fry an egg on your glowing arms.

3.  Keep an eye on your fuel gauge and fill up regularly – the distance between open petrol stations is unpredictable.

4.  The roads are generally very good, so there’s no need to rush.  Spend as much time as you need exploring the forests and waterfalls and chatting to the residents of the tiny villages along the road.  Having said that, as in much of Southeast Asia it’s a good idea to be settled into your accommodation by nightfall – lack of streetlights, bugs, wildlife and potholes make riding in the dark less safe than it could be.

At over 120m tall, the Tad Fan waterfall in Southern Laos is believed to be one of the tallest in the country.  Emerging from the jungle high on the Boloven Plateau, the awesome power of the falling water can be heard for miles around.

Before I left on this current trip I toyed with the idea of doing a weekly summary of what I’d been up to for friends, family and anyone else that was vaguely interested.  It didn’t happen.  No problem, I thought, a fortnightly synopsis is probably a better option anyway.  Indeed it would have been, had I written one.  Hmm.  Oh well, never mind – at least a monthly review will let people know that I’m alive and give them some idea of the things I’ve been doing lately, even if it’s not particularly up to date.  Yup.  I guess it could have.  Stuff it.  Without further ado, hello and welcome to my not-on-any-schedule update.  Take a seat, make yourself comfortable.  Sorry the popcorn’s burnt.

Week 1: Vietnam

After flying from Melbourne via KL to Saigon, I spent a couple of nights there reacquainting myself with the city, met a couple of fellow travel bloggers, got caught up in a poker scam and did a bit of exploring.  Had my first (and as it turns out, best so far) night bus experience up to Nha Trang, after which I promptly lost – and then found – my passport.  Celebrating the return of my travel documents by getting sunburnt on the beach, I met a couple of likely lads latterly from Luxemburg (how’s that for alliteration?) and along with another two guys from England, proceeded to spend the next week destroying my liver, dicing with death on the roads and playing street football, amongst other things.  Watched New Zealand not lose their first game of the World Cup, had a suit made in Hoi An – which is currently either making its way back to Australia on the back of the slow turtle or, more likely, gracing the wardrobe of somebody in the Vietnamese postal service – and explored the Imperial city of Hue.  Yup, not a bad week all round really.

Week 2: Vietnam

After a more enjoyable and somewhat less dangerous return scooter ride to Hoi An, I had the pleasure of trying to lodge a report with the utterly disinterested Vietnamese police when I discovered my laptop missing from the (locked) bag I’d left at my guesthouse.  Amazingly it reappeared the following morning in circumstances that aren’t entirely clear even now, but seriously – if you lose or have anything stolen in Vietnam, good luck getting even a glimmer of interest from the local constabulary.  Hopes of a quieter start to my second week were shattered when the Jagermeister shots came out on my last night in Hoi An with the lads, ensuring that the trip back to Saigon was much more painful than it had to be.  Thankfully I’d had the foresight to opt for the $60 plane trip that took about 90 minutes instead of the $25 bus ride that took at least 24 hours.  I know, I know, I’m nowhere near hardcore enough.  Spent just a night in Saigon before jumping on the local minibus down to Can Tho in the Mekong Delta, where I went on a remarkably enjoyable floating market tour despite having to get up before 5am to do so.  Spent the night in Chau Doc where I had just enough time to jump on a moto and head up to enjoy sunset from the top of Nui Sam, a mountain overlooking the delta and out towards Cambodia.

Week 3: Cambodia

After realising that the road didn’t go where I wanted it to, it was time for a slow boat to Phonm Penh.  Truth in advertising, at least – it was certainly slow.  The advertised seven hours became 12, not helped by losing one passenger to the over zealous Cambodian border officials.  And yes, that is probably the first time that those last five words have ever appeared together in print.  Time enough only for dinner, beer and sleep before taking a share taxi to Svay Rieng, where I was to be helping out with a bit of volunteer work for much of the week.  It was an amazing, eye-opening experience, and one that I’d highly recommend to anybody who is spending some time in this part of the world.  If you’re braver than me, you can even try eating a few of the finger-length fried crickets from the vendors at the ferry crossing on the way back to Phonm Penh.  Met some great people associated with various NGOs, checked out the famous Foreign Correspondent’s Club and had probably my cheapest – and strongest – happy hour mojitos ever.  Mixed in with the fun was some misery – the Killing Fields and Genocide Museum served as horrific reminders of the suffering inflicted on this wonderful country by madmen within the space of my own lifetime.

Week 4: Cambodia

If the last week was dominated by children, this week was undoubtedly dominated by things a little less animated.  Temples.  I spent five days in and around Siem Reap, three of them at the temples of Angkor.  Words can’t really describe how awesome this place is, although as usual I gave it a shot – perhaps just to prove my point.  Other than traipsing around those huge lumps of sandstone, I found time to watch a bit more of the World Cup, eat and drink several times with another fellow travel blogger and check out the landmine museum.  Oh, and spend an afternoon sitting beside the pool with a beer in my hand.  As you do.  Once I finally dragged myself away from Cambodia’s second largest city I found myself in Kratie for a couple of days spotting the elusive river dolphins, swimming in the Mekong and cycling round a sandbar island in the middle of the river.

Week 5: Laos

If I thought Cambodia was laid back compared to Vietnam, Laos took being chilled out to a whole new level.  Nowhere moreso than on Don Det in the 4000 islands (an area in the middle of the river near the Cambodian border), where the only things to do are relax in a hammock, read a good book and sip on one of Laos’ greatest exports – it’s beer.  With great company in the form of some Italian and Spanish couples and Phao, our awesome guesthouse owner, it was a fantastic way to spend a few days and nights.  As well as provide me with my first squat toilet experience of this trip.  Surprised it took this long, really.  The Italians and I carried on to Pakse for another few days, where the highlight was an two day scooter trip up to the Bolaven Plateau.  Slightly cooler weather, beautiful waterfalls, excellent coffee and only one wrong turn.  Who needs navigational aids, hey Alex?  Not us!

Week 6: Laos

The final week for this update was similar in at least one way to the first – it was drunken.  Very drunken.  From finding the only places that were open in Vientiane at three in the morning (no mean feat, I tell you), to bucket after bucket of cheap and dirty cocktails while tubing down the river in Vang Vieng, my liver has threatened a walkout on more than one occasion lately.  Still, it’s been an awful lot of fun, and that’s what it’s all about.  Other less intoxicated activities included getting my visa sorted for Thailand, a brief catchup with the guys from Vietnam, a bit of sightseeing and just generally enjoying the beautiful nature and friendliness of the people here in Laos.  I can see why everybody that comes here raves about the place – it’s what the visions of South East Asia looked like in my mind.  Beautiful scenery, orange-robed monks, great food and wonderful people.  It’s been amazing to say the least.

So there we go, the first of my irregular updates.  Based on my current schedule, the next one will be … sometime this year.  Perhaps.

Ko Treung is a largish sandbar island in the middle of Mekong River, near Kratie in Cambodia.  I hired a bike to slowly pedal around the perimeter and came across this hayshed and cart by the side of the road.  Farming methods and technology haven’t changed much here in a long time…

Before I embarked on my latest set of wanderings around the world a few weeks ago, one of the things that was playing on continuous loop through my head was a nagging question.  Can I do it?  Not the act of travelling per se – I think I’ve done that enough times for it not to hold too many fears in and of itself.  No, what my over-active brain was questioning was whether I was cut out for an extended period of solo travel, particularly through developing countries.

With a couple of exceptions, trips of any length in the past have been with either a mate or girlfriend, or to meet up with existing friends around the world.  It was only the week or two that I spent by myself in the US a couple of years ago that opened my eyes to the potential benefits of flying solo.  Still, a fortnight in large American cities is a far cry from close to three months around South East Asia, and no amount of positive thinking seemed to completely dispel that hint of self doubt.  In the end, as always, the only way to know what I was capable of was to give it a go – to get on a plane and find out.  Departure day finally rolled around in a blur of wrapping up of loose ends and after one last drunken farewell I found myself in the check-in line at the airport, somewhat intoxicated and entirely alone.  Guess what, Dave?  Ready or not, you’re doing it.

I’m now pretty much halfway through the ‘solo’ part of this trip and as I sit here in a riverside cafe in Vientiane sipping Beerlao and cheerfully ignoring the tuk-tuk drivers wanting to sell me weed, I think I’ve answered my own question.  Can I do it?  Yes.  I absolutely can.  Travelling solo for the last six weeks has been many things.  Challenging, entertaining, eye-opening and mind expanding.  Hilarious, drunken and incredible.  It has certainly never been boring, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.

One of the great things about travelling alone on this trip is that fact that in reality, I haven’t spent much time actually doing that.  Instead, I’ve spent hours talking to strangers on buses, in restaurants and while drinking in bars.  When you are dining by yourself and your choice of conversation partners are either a potted plant or the people at the table beside you, it’s not a difficult decision to make.  Without the safety net of a travel companion, I’ve put myself out there a lot more than on previous trips – and gained so much more in return.  In our so-called normal lives, we all carry round hang-ups and distractions that create barriers to meeting and creating friendships with strangers.  While travelling those barriers disappear, especially when you are by yourself, and forming strong bonds with people takes days rather than months.

Twice already on this trip, a chance encounter has ended up with altered plans, immense fun and new found friends.  Looking up from my book, starting a conversation, buying someone a beer, saying yes rather than no has led to some wonderful experiences.  Hiring scooters and riding the crazy roads of Vietnam, for instance.  Holding down conversations over a few days that were switching between Spanish, Italian and English mid sentence – despite only speaking one of those languages.  Dancing till the small hours, football in the streets, introducing the brilliance of Eddie Vedder to my Lao guesthouse owner on Don Det.  Whatever it may have been, it all started with a smile and a willingness to get involved rather than sitting on the sidelines.  Probably a good life lesson at any time, but especially while on the road.

I’ve been asked by a lot of people if I am travelling by myself.  When I answer in the affirmative, the response varies from a look of incredulous disbelief that I would want to do anything so ridiculous, to a nod of respect or a smile of agreement.  In many cases the follow-up question is ‘why?’.  My usual response is ‘why not?’.  There was nobody else that I knew who was interested in doing what I’m doing at the moment – backpacking for months around South East Asia, staying in cheap accommodation, eating street food and taking overnight buses from place to place.  Most of my circle of friends are busy living somewhat different lives – careers, mortgages, children, whatever it may be – and their priorities are quite different to mine.  On that basis I had two choices – don’t go, or travel by myself.  I chose the latter, both because I’m not willing to give up my dreams just because other people don’t share them, but also because it scared me a little.  I think that’s a good thing.

The other question that sometimes comes up is ‘would you rather be travelling with somebody else?’.  That’s a harder one.  Now and again when I see happy couples being all happy and couple-like as they wander down the street with matching backpacks or a group of mates laughing loudly as they drink another bar dry, I do feel a little sad that I’m not sharing all of these amazing experiences with somebody else.  I think it’s human nature to want the people close to you to be a part of the great times in your life, and this trip has undoubtedly been one of those times.  I guess, though, that it’s a moot point.  I’m single, and putting off more travel until the right girl comes along to do it with seems a little silly.  Travelling in large groups isn’t very appealing either – I love the freedom and flexibility of making my own decisions.  When travelling solo I only have myself to argue with about what to do next – and it’s an argument I tend to win.

Ultimately I think there are many benefits to travelling with other people, and equally large benefits to doing it alone.  There’s no right or wrong way – giving both options a go is the only way to find out what works best for you personally.  For me, I’ll happily travel either way – or better still, both ways – if it means I get to keep seeing amazing places and meeting incredible people.  I’ll certainly be taking the lessons that I’ve learned from travelling by myself to heart for the rest of this trip and every subsequent one, regardless of how many other people are coming with me.  Staying flexible, putting myself out there, getting out of my comfort zone and being a travel participant rather than merely a spectator.  That’s what flying solo means to me.

[Photo courtesy of Arkadiusz Szymczak]

Have you travelled by yourself?  What were the best – and worst – aspects of solo travel for you?

It’s easy to be overwhelmed by everything happening at ground level in Times Square in the heart of New York City.  In between checking out the sights, sounds and smells of the street, I took a minute to look up.

Angkor Wat.  Even the name conjures up a sense of wonder and mystery, an appreciation of both the incredible feats of mankind over the millennia and the inexorable power of nature in equal measure.  Or maybe that’s just me.  In any case it would be fair to say that I was rather looking forward to my time at the vast Angkorian temple complex near Siem Reap in Cambodia, albeit tinged with a slight concern that perhaps it wouldn’t live up to the picture already formed in my overhyped imagination.  I needn’t have worried.  If your first view of the towers of the main attraction, the smiling faces of Bayon or the encroaching jungle at Ta Prohm don’t leave an indelible impression on your consciousness, I’d suggest double-checking for a pulse.  It really is that sort of place, and one that you owe it to yourself to visit at least once during your lifetime.  Here’s a few things I figured out while I was there to help you make the most of your time in this unbelievable part of the world.

Avoid high season

Apparently the most popular time to visit Angkor is between the cooler, drier months of November and February.  As a result, I’d highly recommend avoiding being anywhere near the place during that time.  For me there’s nothing that takes the shine off an amazing place like this than sharing it with a few thousand of your closest friends.  Traipsing along behind yet another chattering tour group, all of whom are vying to get photos of themselves in identical ‘crazy’ poses before climbing back on the bus and being whisked away to do the same thing again at the next spot, is not the ideal way to see the temples of Angkor.  If you can stand the heat and the risk of rain in the late afternoon, a visit in the early monsoon months of June or July will see far few visitor numbers and a much more enjoyable experience all round.  Similarly, each of the major temples has peak times of the day associated with it, due either to the views at sunrise or sunset, or based on the times that the tour buses roll up.  If you can make sure that you are somewhere else at that time, you may well end up with many of the less famous temples virtually to yourself.  I know I did.

Take a different path

Even when crowds are unavoidable a little lateral thinking could give you a surprising amount of solitude.  Sure, spend a couple of minutes taking the eponymous sunrise shot of Angkor Wat over the reflecting pool, but then hightail it inside and climb up to the inner courtyard as soon as there’s enough light to avoid falling down the steep sets of narrow stairs that lead there.  The above picture was taken just after sunrise and other than a couple of local guards who were too busy shooting catapults at the bird life to notice me, there wasn’t another soul in sight for at least half an hour.  Of the entire time that I spent clambering around the temples, that memory will undoubtedly be one of my favourites.  There’s simply no way describe the feeling of being alone in such a wonderful place.  Thirty minutes later, it was completely different. 

Give yourself enough time

This may seem obvious, and yet I have been astonished by the number of people who only allowed themselves a single day at Angkor.  It simply isn’t enough.  Even the inner temples cover a vast area, while the total complex is in excess of 160 square kilometres and some of the most interesting ruins outside the ‘big three’ lie a fairly lengthy motorbike or tuk-tuk ride away.  It is impossible to rush through most of the temples without doing them a complete disservice, and the oppressive heat of the late morning and early afternoon will slow you down even further.  Give yourself an absolute minimum of three days here – you can buy a pass that provides access for three days out of seven for $40 USD, and it will take at least that long to appreciate the diversity and brilliance of the dozens of temples on offer.  If you have to cut something else from your itinerary to achieve this, so be it.

Vive la difference

Although the ruins of Angkor are lumped together in the guide books because of their similarities in geographic location and construction material, many of them share virtually nothing else.  Design, orientation, purpose and date of construction varied dramatically from one temple to another, and the changing political and religious overtones of the Khmer kingdom are reflected in the monuments to its rulers and gods.  The qualities of many of the less famous temples are much more subtle than the main attractions, and as result are worth seeing first to give yourself a chance to appreciate them.  Anywhere else in the world ruins like Preah Khan, Pre Rup and Banteay Srei would be considered historical highlights in their own right, but after spending a morning engrossed in the grandeur of Angkor Wat and the royal city of Angkor Thom pretty much anything tends to pale in comparison.

Look after yourself

Exploring Angkor is likely to be an experience that you remember for the rest of your life.  Taking a few simple precautions will help ensure that the memory is an entirely positive one.

• Sun protection is vital.  Temperatures and humidity are both very high, especially when wandering around some of the more open temple complexes.  Wear a hat and shirt, and use plenty of sunscreen.  Don’t forget to keep reapplying it, as you will almost certainly sweat it off within an hour or two.
• Carry enough water and keep drinking it.  When you run out, there will be no shortage of vendors trying to sell you some more so don’t feel a need to conserve it.
• Sturdy footwear helps a lot.  While you can explore the ruins in flip-flops, the combination of steep narrow steps, uneven ground and significant amounts of walking means they aren’t the greatest choice.
• Wear insect repellent – the mosquitoes and other bugs can become a little annoying, especially near bodies of water (of which there are many).
• Pack a light rain jacket during the monsoon season.  While you’re likely to call it a day if the rain gets too excessive, you don’t want to have to curtail your exploring just because you’re getting a bit damp.

It’s not just about the temples

While the temples are obviously the main attraction, they aren’t the only thing worth looking at in the area.  The Angkorian complex doesn’t exist in isolation – it is part of a vast ecosystem of birds, animals, plants and humans living and competing for resources in a setting of stunning natural beauty.  Take the time to look beyond the worn sandstone and bas reliefs while walking around and between the temples to call out a greeting to local fishermen, spot the myriad range of butterflies and dragonflies flitting amongst the ruins and marvel at the awesome power of the jungle as gigantic trees rise into the canopy in front of you.  The ruins are undoubtedly incredible, but they are just a part of the story.

Visiting the temples of Angkor is an incredible and unique experience.  Book a plane ticket, grab your guide book and go.  It will be one of the best decisions you ever made.

If you’re a Tomb Raider fan, Ta Prohm is the one temple in the Angkor complex that you just can’t miss – large chunks of the movie were filmed here.  Enormous trees have taken over the temple, and it’s probably the most atmospheric ruin of them all.  As a result it’s also one of the busiest, so try to pick your time of day to avoid the chattering tour groups.

In an idyllic countryside setting in rural Cambodia, the birds are singing.  The heat of the morning sun is tempered by the welcome shade of trees overhead and a few lazy bugs are making a half hearted attempt to land on my bare arms.  Children are laughing and playing in a small school next door.  The grass is a brilliant shade of green and the view over the rice paddies towards Phonm Penh in the distance could sell a thousand postcards  This should be just another lovely spot in a stunningly beautiful country, but it isn’t.

The beauty and serenity of the former longan orchard of Choeung Ek was shattered forever by the Khmer Rouge after it took seized power in 1975.  In the nearly three years between the fall of the capital to Pol Pot’s men and the Vietnamese invasion that unseated them, nearly 20,000 people were transferred here from the infamous S-21 prison.  Shortly after arrival they were bludgeoned or stabbed to death, their bodies thrown into one of nearly 130 mass graves.  Chemicals were thrown on top of the corpses, both to mask the smell and to kill anybody that had been buried alive.  These Killing Fields are the most well known of dozens of such sites around Cambodia.  Between execution, starvation, disease and being literally worked to death, it is estimated that up to a quarter of the country’s population died under the Khmer Rouge regime.

There is really no way to adequately describe the feeling of walking through an area where the darkest aspects of man’s inhumanity have been unleashed.  Where every sunken piece of ground once contained hundreds of bodies.  Where innocuous looking trees have stark signs attached to them that you can scarcely bear to read.  Where thousands upon thousands of skulls are displayed in a case stretching up as far as the eye can see, many with obvious signs of the injuries they suffered.  The horrors of this place affect everyone that comes here – none of the other visitors catch each other’s eye as they walk around the dusty trails, lost in the memories and imagining the atrocities that occurred on the very piece of ground upon which they are standing.  Many Cambodians believe that ghosts inhabit places like Choeung Ek, the tortured souls of the victims unable to leave this world.  It is not hard to see why.

The prison that spawned these mass killings – and carried out many thousands of its own – is equally mundane in its outside appearance.  A former high school in the suburbs of Phonm Penh, the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum was turned into S-21 (Security 21) prison by the Khmer Rouge a few months after taking over the city.  Classrooms were refitted as torture chambers and tiny cells.  Electric shocks, suffocation, beatings, burnings and rapes were commonly used to extract confessions of crimes against the regime.  As the madness continued, the Party began to destroy itself from within, and many of the guards, bureaucrats and even senior party members were arrested and ultimately executed in later years.  Of the 17,000 people that are estimated to have entered the prison, only twelve are known to have survived.

Walking around the museum, which has been left largely as it was found in 1979, is an utterly depressing experience.  The Khmer Rouge were meticulous in their record keeping, so there are many hundreds of photos of prisoners on display.  Virtually every single one of them died.  The torture rooms are grotesque in their starkness – a single metal framed bed, a few everyday items used to inflict unspeakable agony, and many stains on the floors and walls that you’d really rather not try to identify.  Several of the rooms have black and white photos of broken corpses on the walls, the final legacy of the S-21 jailors as they murdered their captives in the final hours before the Vietnamese army arrived. 

From the list of ten prison rules that are reprinted on a large sign in what was once a children’s play area (“6. While getting lashes or electrification you must not cry at all.”), the repurposed exercise bar that became a crude gallows or the coils of barbed wire everywhere, the abject misery – and brevity – of life at Tuol Sleng is apparent at every turn.  As at the Killing Fields, it would be almost impossible to believe that one group of human beings could inflict this type of suffering on their own countrymen if the reminders weren’t continually staring you in the face.  After a couple of hours in the Genocide Museum I could take no more – it was time to leave.  The humid, dusty air of Phonm Penh never smelled so sweet as it did when I walked back out through the gates of Security 21.  Unlike thousands before me, however, I was not being herded onto a truck headed for an extermination camp, but merely into the back of a tuk-tuk going back to my guesthouse.

As the motorbike bounced over the potholed roads back through the city, my heart heavy and my mind whirling, the grinding poverty, open sewers and desperate glances took on a new poignancy.  Almost as bad as the genocide inflicted upon the people of Cambodia is the ongoing legacy that it has left thirty years later – a legacy of suffering, corruption and pain that belies the smiles and warmth of the Khmer people I’ve been fortunate enough to meet along the way.  There is no doubt that while real progress is being made, there is a very, very long way to go.  This is only exacerbated by the fact that the genocide specifically targeted professionals and intellectuals as it attempted to drive the country back to some non existent agrarian utopia from a thousand years earlier.  To rebuild a country from scratch without having a base of natural leaders turns a difficult task into one of Herculean proportions.  I can only hope that one day soon, life improves drastically for all Cambodians rather than just the elite as seems to be the case now.  God knows they deserve it.