Hello! Hello!

Although we are now enjoying the jaw-dropping experience that is exploring the temples at Angkor, I think I ought to give my impressions of Phnom Penh first, because it is very unlike any of the places we have visited on this trip thus far.

We knew we were in for something else when we received landing cards on the flight from Bangkok to Phnom Penh prominently labeled "Immegration [sic] Card." As we closed in on the city from the air, we saw utter flatness all around. There was nary a high-rise to be seen, and the immediate outskirts of the city seemed to be rice paddies as far as the eye could see.

Upon landing and entering the airport, Alex proclaimed his pleasant surprise that since his previous visit to Cambodia, actual ramps linking the gates to the planes had appeared. Then, we got our on-arrival visas for entry to the country. This involved handing an application and a passport to one heavily-uniformed bureaucrat, then paying $20 in cash to another bureaucrat, who would give you your processed passport back, complete with visa sticker.

Mine was not the only name that they failed to copy letter for letter on the form. Tony's first name became "Ray," and my name, somehow, was "Ahukla Anand Shukla." But life went on.

We were met outside by a van from the hostel where we were staying. The weather was very pleasant-- breezy and reasonably dry, in contrast to the stagnant humidity of Bangkok and the downright oppressiveness of the steam-bath that was Singapore. But as we saw the city unfold before us, we knew that Phnom Penh was not the up-and-coming maelstrom that Bangkok was. Cambodia remains a two-wheeler economy: most traffic on the road consisted of motor scooters, bicyles, and tuk-tuks (Cambodia's tuk-tuks are dodgier than their Thai cousins: they are literally little two-wheel wagons attached by a pivot to a motor scooter). As we had observed earlier, there were next to no high rises, and most buildings were rather run-down. There was more trash on the streets, but not as much as in India. People looked reasonably well-fed, but they were obviously poorer.

Pramod and I, forever comparing our surroundings to India, decided that Phnom Penh was like a mid-sized Indian city, except slightly cleaner and a good deal less crowded. Otherwise, the scene was very familiar to us-- the same sorts of storefronts, people dressed in similar fashion, operating the same sorts of businesses and getting around in similar ways. Dogs run around the streets, trash is gathered in piles on shoddily paved sidewalks, and small children run around half-naked among it all. Begging is common.

Rural Cambodia was also very reminiscent of rural India (or of very rural Mexico, which I have also had the opportunity to see), but more on that later.

The hostel we stayed at appeared to be a restored colonial house with three or four stories. Despite being a beautiful building and an oasis of tourist calm, it was, in sum, not very good compared to the phenomenal accommodations we have had in Bangkok and Siem Reap, which have for me set a new bar for what budget accommodation can be. The staff was very friendly, but frankly somewhat incompetent when it came to suggesting restaurants, travel options, and other diversions. The restaurant there was mediocre and dreadfully overpriced, and the service rather slow. The upshot was that all eight of us had a room to ourselves, which provided for much merriment, but that meant we all shared one bathroom, and the AC was no good to boot.

For this reason, the cheap Indians Pramod and I were eager to hang out, and especially eat, in other places. The first full day we had in the city we went to what is called the Russian Market, so named because Soviet expats used to hang out there in the 1980s. It was paltry compared to the Chatuchak Weekend Market in Bangkok, but one highlight was the lunch that Pramod, Mez, and I managed to find among its crowded, sweltering stalls: fried noodles with vegetables and a fried egg, all prepared in front of us with a number of delicious sauces by an impossibly deft woman. A heaping plate cost just $1.

Speaking of money, Cambodia is notable on this trip for having a rather weak currency. The Cambodian riel suffers from rather toxic inflation, so most locals prefer to use American dollars and Thai baht; the riel is only used for small change. ATMs, as it happens, dispense only American dollars. This has proven to be an incredible convenience.

But back to our adventures: that night we ate pizza, which was a bit shameful, and an extremely persistent hawker boy got me to buy a book about the Pol Pot Regime off of him. Admittedly I enjoy the book, but the experience of trying to shoo this persistent child away was a bit taxing. He even flipped off Richard when he refused to buy a book! The nerve!

That night, in any case, I studied the Pol Pot book carefully, since the next day was occupied with acquainting ourselves with the grisly reminders of his bizarre and extraordinarily brutal regime. Pol Pot's Khmer Rouge controlled Cambodia from 1975-1979, and was not totally rooted out until 20 years after that. During those four short years, it wrought havoc upon Cambodia and killed perhaps a quarter of its citizens.

We woke up early to visit a site known as the Killing Fields in the district of Choeung Ek. The only reasonable comparison is to the Nazi death camps. Let me walk you through the Khmer Rouge's modus operandi for liquidating its "enemies:" anyone who they didn't know personally was immediately suspect, particularly educated people, foreigners, and ethnic minorities. These people would be taken to makeshift prisons, where they would be tortured for weeks to extract fabricated confessions. Then, they would be trucked to a site in the countryside, where a mass grave had already been dug. There, they would be bludgeoned to death (bullets were too precious), one by one, men, women, and children alike, until everyone was dead. The bodies would be piled into a mass grave.

Choeung Ek was one of these killing fields (there were about 150 across the country), and it contained no fewer than 50 mass graves. When they were dug up in the 1980s, something along the lines of 8000 bodies were found. A large shrine now houses all of their skulls. It is a grisly sight. A later visit to Tuol Sleng, a former high school that had been converted into one of the above-mentioned torture prisons, was even more powerful for me-- instruments of torture were simply laid out as they were found, and the walls were covered with pictures of bodies.

But Phnom Penh was not all poverty and horrors. Quite to the contrary, my experience in Phnom Penh turned out to be very pleasant, and I will remember it very fondly. The first night we were there, I felt a bit intimidated by this poor, badly lit city where we stuck out like sore thumbs under a few harsh fluorescent street lamps. But as time went on, it quickly became apparent that there was nothing to be afraid of. Khmer people, let the record show, are extremely sweet and friendly. Because Phnom Penh is not really on the tourist map, our interactions with people were, on the whole, very friendly and genuine, unlike in Bangkok or Siem Reap, where people who want to talk to you probably also want to sell you something.

The prime example of this kind of experience was walking into the little dive cafe next to our hostel, where a huge crowd had assembled to watch boxing. We struck up a conversation with a Khmer dude (did I mention that a lot of Cambodians, even outside the tourism industry, have very decent English?), who made some boxing bets with Pramod (Pramod lost). This guy also fancied Mez to be Michael Jackson's son. Good times.

These kinds of interactions kept occurring, however. Once, when Rich, Pramod, and I were clearly lost, a dude on the street came up to us and very graciously oriented us. I played volleyball for a bit (I sucked, naturally) with one of the waiters at the canteen I mentioned above. Later, when Pramod and I were looking for a place to eat (anything to avoid the profound mediocrity of the hostel restaurant), the same waiter eagerly ushered us into the canteen. The place was badly lit, and it looked decidedly closed. But the entire staff swung into action for us-- laying out chairs, tables, and firing up the stove. We had an extremely delicious meal, then got seconds, ordered drinks, got a free iced tea from them, and left a generous tip-- all for 5 dollars flat. They seemed so happy to have us around. Service like that one does not often see.

A word on food in Cambodia-- I've found that Khmer cooking, at least for the vegetarian, is not as good as in Thailand. There, I never had any shortage of options. In Cambodia, both the variety and flavor of options is somewhat less. Khmer food is somewhat less spicy, less lemongrassy, and less seafoody than Thai food. They do, however, make absolutely masterful use of black pepper-- a somewhat unusual flavor for East or Southeast Asian cuisine.

In sum, I will remember Phnom Penh (and its rural surroundings, where we traveled to the Killing Fields via ATV) as a humble, smiley place, full of little children everywhere who will line up on the street and excitedly call out to you "hello! Hello!" in the cutest little voices. If only people were so earnest everywhere!