We woke up well before dawn and wandered bleary-eyed out to the gates of our little villa in Siem Reap to meet our TukTuk driver. Our besties Kristi and Hans met us at the gate and we crossed the threshold into the dusty road to hop on the four seater, called a remorque. In the dark of the early morning we made our way over deeply potted dirt roads, past big white cows trotting alongside us and people at roadside food stalls sweeping and washing the ground for the day’s business. By the time we arrived at our destination, there was a thin line of light on the horizon and a long line of tourists streaming toward the small lake from which to take in the big show - sunrise over Angkor Wat.
We’ve just returned from a holiday in Cambodia (yes, the song is stuck in my head), and I have so much to process. From tours of ancient temples to evenings in the cities, from shopping in sprawling markets to a near miss with a financial scam, from a blessing by a Buddhist monk to a coffee tasting experience at a local cafe, to a heart-wrenching visit to the Choeung Ek Genocidal Center—Cambodia is all the things, full of glorious contradictions (like all cultures).
The people are warm and kind, the food is delightful, the heat permeates everything everywhere, all at once and the past is still feels very present.
The best way I can share is through the photos I took, but they in no way capture the fullness of the experience. What isn’t in the frame is how my breath caught in my chest as the first rays of light streamed over the temple walls. There are no photos of the monk who blessed me, no external evidence of what it felt like to hear his words, to see his smile, or to accept the gentle gift of an orange cloth bracelet, one I’ll wear until it falls off on its own.
Nor can I find a way to assemble the pixels on this page to convey what it felt like to hear the stories of survivors of the Khmer Rouge genocide as I wandered silently through one of the thousands of mass grave sites. One thing I can say, beyond the sheer devastation and the confusion of how one man can compel such horror, is that the language of Pol Pot echoes today in words I hear coming out of the American administration. To think it cannot happen in America feels foolish beyond measure.
[edit]
What I didn’t include when I first wrote and sent this Substack, but could have had I waited a little longer for the impressions to resurface, is that a young woman who waited on me in our hotel restaurant told me about her mother, who is just a year younger than I, and how she talks about her memories of surviving the Khmer Rouge genocide.
That means, like me, her mom was between 6 and 7 years old when the soldiers emptied the cities in just 3 days. She was playing with dolls at the same time I was playing with dolls when the mass murders began.
Every Cambodian love today either was directly impacted or knows someone who was driven to the fields where 1.5 million children, women and men.
And to say that the words of Pol Pot echo in the halls of America, is no exaggeration when one of the rallying cries was an intense hatred for anyone educated.
I couldn’t bear to take out my phone and snap any pics or collect any video, but this traveler’s depiction of their visit is as respectfully done as can be and I can’t share this post without sharing this part of the story.
For now, I get to share more travel photos than most folx will care to see - but alas, it is what we do.
Travel is both a gift and a responsibility. I am grateful beyond measure for the privilege my wife’s career affords us. We get to see wonders, taste delights, collect tiny treasures. And we must also try our best to tread lightly in the cultures we encounter, welcome discomfort, share our resources, and leave the people we meet with a lasting sense of our gratitude for welcoming us into their truths.
How lucky I feel to explore the Earth, meet Her people, and hopefully learn and grow into better a human along the way.
May we be worthy of the places that hold us, even briefly.
For the travelers out there, I can heartily recommend:
Book about Khmer Rouge expeince as told though one survivor’s eyes: First They Killed My Father by Loung Ung
Siem Reap stay: Enchanted Garden Villas
Evening out in Siem reap: Miss Wong’s Cocktail Bar (they also make some great mocktails!)
Siem Reap coffee experience: at Brother Bong
Phnom Penh stay: Glow Park
Phnom Penh tattoo studio: Atelier 69 with Oliver
Street food in Phnom Penh (I didn’t have the courage to try the insects or dried fish): check out Street Food Guy’s recomendations.
Mediterranean Food in Phnom Penh: Aroma