"WHAT IS $5 TO YOU? AND WHAT IS $5 TO HIM"

PHNOM PENH, CAMBODIA

Temperature: 28 Degrees Celsius

Track of the day: "The Cave," Mumford and Sons

"Is that Phanit,?" I ask as a young Khmer man approached our table exuberantly as we are finishing our morning breakfast at the hotel. Mom and Dad jump to their feet to greet an old friend (the brother of their tuk-tuk driver from a few years ago) who has come to take us around the city. We do a quick meet and greet and rush back to our room to collect our things for the day. 'What are we going to do about the tuk-tuk drivers waiting for us outside that we promised to give our business too," I ask worried about leaving them in the lurch. "Why don't we give each driver $20US for lost wages and explain the situation." We do just that and the humble drivers are more than happy as this mere $20 is sometimes more than a weeks wage for them. We also agree to have them pick us up for dinner around 6PM tonight. Hopping into Phanit and his friends tuk-tuk the five of us head out to the city. Stop number one is a story unto itself. For some bizarre reason Dad wanted to go to the local dump which is supposedly something of a smokey mountain (where people live) and somehow we are now standing in the middle of a landfill. There is nothing here but garbage, stinky, dirty garbage and thankfully a number of NGO's have already come here to help the children who once lived here get educated and fed. After enough wandering Dad apologizes for the complete waste of time while the rest of us smugly remind him that we 'told you so'. We continue on to the Russian Market, a place Alecs and I did not visit last time we were here. Unlike any market we have been to yet, this one is unique, eclectic and brilliant! Winding crooked streets, stalls spilling into the aisles, a mass maze of textiles, DVD's, trinkets, t-shirts, souvenirs, flowers, fruit and there seems to be no end in sight. Alecs and I come to an opening back on the street where teems of tuk-tuks stream past us as motorbikes zoom by. "We made it out," Alecs says, breathing in. "Ya but we haven't gone the other direction," I say pointing down the street. We enter back in the winding world and return once again, our hands filled with bags. Clambering back into the tuk-tuk's, we head to Central Market, a much larger place than the last where we finish up our shopping fix. We quickly drop our goods off at the hotel and head out for lunch at a fantastic little restaurant called Friends. Back in March Alecs and I used our Lonely Planet guide to Cambodia as something of a bible and this restaurant was recommended in the 'dining for a cause' section of the Phnom Penh chapter. Friends is an NGO aimed at giving street kids a fighting chance and th restaurant trains them in the hospitality industry and helps them become employable. The staff all wear t-shirts indicating whether they are teachers or students, and the food is absolutely fantastic. A team of smiling Cambodian's greet us at the door and guide us out to the patio. We ask both Phanit and his friend to join us but only Phanit comes as the other driver has already eaten. Sitting together at the heavy wooden table under the warm blue sky as children play in the school yard beside us has everyone more than relaxed. We use this as an opportunity to learn more about Mom and Dad's friend Phanit and his family, who we will visit tomorrow. Phanit's family lives about a 45 minute Tuk-tuk drive outside of Phnom Penh in a rural village where rice farming is their main source if income. Our meals are delivered I excitedly dig into the hummus on won ton wrappers and Greek salad which is just as good as I remember. It seems Alecs and I chose wisely as everyone is just as much in love with this place as we are. "So where to next?" Phanit asks as we clambour back into the tuk-tuks. We head to Wat Phnom, one of the most important pagodas in Phnom Penh built in 1373. We climb up the hill to the top where both the pagoda and a Buddhist temple sit. "Puppies," I shout to Alecs spotting two adorable balls of fur waddling around the temple chewing on random pieces of furniture and tumbling around each other. I race over to pick them both up while Mom, Dad and Sam pay to release a bird from a bamboo cage. After wandering around the pagoda we head down the backside of the hill where a number of monkeys sit on various pieces of the temple. We buy some bananas and a local bean-like vegetable which the monkeys love. "Anyone want a drink?" Dad asks as he approaches a small vendor on the side of the road. We unanimously nod our heads as Dad orders a few pop's, waters and juices when suddenly before money is exchanged the vendor scurries around her cart and drives off. She apologizes in broken English as we all stand a little perplexed but mostly amused as every vendor around us does the same. Moments later they all scuttle back to their locations and continue serving their customers, including us. "The police," the woman says, "if they see me selling here they get me," she says placing her hands behind her back as if they were handcuffed. We all grin at one another still amused at how everything operates over here, and loving it all the same. Before long we are walking towards the Royal Palace, a complex of buildings which are the royal abode of the King of Cambodia, Norodom Sihamouni, the son of former Prince Norodom Sihanouk. On March 18, 1970 while the Prince Sihanouk was out of the country travelling, Prime Minister Lon Nol convented the National Assembly which voted to dispose Sihanouk as head of state giving Lon Nol emergency power. After being deposed Sihanouk moved to Beijing where he supported the Khmer Rouge in their plot to overthrow the Lon Nol government. When the new government fell to the Khmer Rouge in 1975 Prince Sihanouk returned to Cambodia to become the symbolic head of state while Pol Pot remained in power. Sihanouk, who had imagined living as a retired gentleman and perhaps a public relations man for his country was to spend the next few years virtually as a hostage of the Khmer Rouge. ALL supporters of the Lon Nol government were in grave danger during the Khmer Rouge regime and most were killed. Any family known to have been related to or affiliated with a member of the former Lon Nol government was to be destroyed. While traveling through Laos back in February Alecs and I prepared for our trip to Cambodia by reading together the chilling tale of a child's struggle to survive during the Khmer Rouge regime. Her father was a member of the Lon Nol government and by the end of the book aptly titled 'First they killed my father' we had a new perspective on Cambodia. Although much has changed since the Khmer Rouge fell the corruption here in Cambodia is said to be second to only Myanmar in Asia. Many former members of the Khmer Rouge hold positions of political power and the people as a whole feel helpless. As we discuss the politics behind the current leaders Sam's eye is caught by a old Khmer man selling hammocks to passersby. Sam and I quickly decide we each want one and spark a deal with the frail, wrinkled old man for $5 each - much more than it was worth but Sam says it best "what is $5 to you?," he asks " and what is $5 to him?". We head into the complex where we spend the next three quarters of an hour exploring the many temples, the beautifully manicured gardens with hedges shaped like elephants and lions and the hundreds of Buddhist statues. A long day ends back at our hotel where we all relax in the pool.

Tomorrow we are planning to visit Phanit's family in a rural village to have lunch.

Until next time so long,

Alecs and Meg in Phnom Penh

"THE DEAD ARE SILENT"

PHNOM PENH, CAMBODIA

Temperature: 34 Degrees Celsius

Track of the day: Stairway to Heaven, Led Zeppelin

"I love swimming in the morning," Alecs says diving under the water of our private pool, "it's just such a great start to the day." After a refreshing swim in the pool, we hail a tuk-tuk to take

us to the Toul Sleng Prison (aka S21) and the killing fields. Between 1975 and 1979 one fifth of Cambodia's population (1.7 million people) was wiped out by the Khmer Rouge, led by a man named Pol Pot. He and his party performed one of the most radical restructuring of a society ever attempted. On April 17, 1975 Khmer Rouge evacuated with force the entire city of Phnom Penh to the countryside leaving behind a ghost town where only the bodies of those who fought back remained. Men, women, children and even wounded and sick hospital patients marched into the jungle with everything they could carry, unsure where they were going or even why. The 'city people' were forced into work camps with the 'country people' who were deemed less corrupt and therefore treated much better. All Cambodians were forced to wear black clothing with hair cut the same length and almost all families were separated. Children controlled adults and anyone perceived as 

educated was exterminated without question. Doctors were killed meaning uneducated villagers were providing medical treatment with little training and without proper tools or medicines. Two cups of watered-down rice fed entire villages and receiving meat was a rare occurrence. While working in the fields many villagers would catch live frogs, crickets, spiders and lizards shoving them in their mouths while the Angkar's head was turned, desperately trying to survive. Death by starvation, treatable disease, overworking and execution were a daily occurrence and family members began dropping like flies. Fearing a revolt amongst the people, Khmer Rouge rounded up suspect infiltrators who they accused of simultaneously working for the KGB, CIA and the Vietnamese. These people were taken to Toul Sleng (aka S-21), a former high school turned prison led by Saloth Sar and under the direction of Kaing Gek Iev (alias Duch), where Alecs and

I now stand. The prison walls are lined with electrified barbed wire while the old buildings inside seem barren. "Let's start with building A," I suggest, reading from a $3 guide we purchased. I follow Alecs into a large empty room with concrete walls and barred windows. The floor is dusty and tiled. In the centre of the room sits a single bed where a metal rod with shackles is chained to one post. A filthy watering can and former rusty ammunition box lay to the side of the bed - the place where prisoners disposed of their body waste. When the Vietnamese invaded Cambodia in 1979 (causing the Khmer Rouge to fall) guards were ordered to kill the remaining prisoners in S-21. 14 people were brutally killed and their bodies left to rot before the Khmer Rouge abandoned the prison. When the United Front for the National Salvation of Kampuchea found the corpses, they photographed them as they were, before burying them in-front of what is now building A. In each room hangs a single photo of one of the last 14 victims, their limp bodies tortured beyond recognition, left in pools

of their own blood. Alecs and I stand side by side unable to verbalize our thoughts and emotions but Alecs' saddened eyes speak for both of us. 

This building contained large cells for prisoners deemed to be holding valuable information, while other prisoners were herded into tiny brick cells that both Alecs and I barely fit inside. Outside building B hangs a pole with cables attached where interrogators would hang prisoners upside down until they passed out. They would then dip their heads in a jar of smelly, filthy water used for fertilizer so they would quickly regain consciousness to further their interrogation. We step inside one of the dimly lit rooms in building B where we find thousands of photographs of the victims who passed through the prison. Every photo tells a story - fear, anger and sadness are emotions seen vividly in the eyes of these people, "I know these people," Alecs says looking at a group of photos, "they look like my family, they look like the people we've met here." I nod my head pointing out to Alecs a photo of a young man who looks like his brother. "He has Jay's eyes," Alecs says looking closer at the photo, "that man probably is someones brother." The Khmer Rouge believed that like when pulling weeds it is necessary to pull up a traitors roots - killing his entire family. One forced confession meant several would die. A photo of a 

Khmer woman holding her baby, her face almost lifeless, will remain with me forever. Tens of thousands of people passed through these walls and only seven survived. These people survived because of their unique skills as either carpenters, electrical engineers, sculptors and even painters. Paintings by one of the survivors hang on the walls depicting life inside the prison. Beside a bed with shackles used for torturing victims hangs a painting of a female victim having her nipples clipped off with pliers. Beside the bed stands a box where venomous scorpions and centipedes were housed to further pain inflicted on these people. Other methods of torture included pulling fingernails off and pouring alcohol to the wound or taking babied from mothers and smashing their little heads 

against a wall to gain information. Outside the building hangs a sign with rules for prisoners to follow when being tortured - 'Rule #6 - When getting lashed or electrification you must not cry at all'. It almost becomes too much to bare and then we see the photos of the victims who did not survive torture. Lifeless bodies drained of all their fluids lay on the various torture devices, their faces indiscernible amongst the many wounds. Their skin is stretched across their hollow naked frames and their eyes sunken in, they seem almost inhuman. "It's not fair," Alecs says, "these people will never have justice for what was done to them." None of the Khmer Rouge involved in S-21 prison have ever been prosecuted for the crimes they committed, in fact no-one has ever been sentenced for any of the horrors committed during the Pol Pot Regime. Duch, the prison director - a man said to be a 

a ruthless killer - now awaits trial for his crimes, a privilege none of his victims ever received. Photos of the young prison soldiers, some no more than 14 years old hang beside the faces of their victims. Can we blame these children for wanting, like everyone else, to simply live through another day?, I ask myself.  This is a question many Cambodians still ask and it has Alecs and I questioning our own moral code. There was a saying during the the reign of Pol Pot that says it is better to kill 10 innocent people than to leave one guilty person alive. It is for this reason people were brought to the prison on the most absurd charges and a forced confession was always eventually given. Once a prisoner confessed they were unknowingly marked for execution and taken to Choeung Ek, better known as the killing fields, some 20 km SW of the prison. A short tuk-tuk ride through the busy streets of

Phnom Penh has us at the gates of the former orchard. A Japanese company owns the rights to the ticketing of the killing fields, reaping the profit from another nations suffering. "That's absurd," I say, walking through the gates, "the money should go back to Cambodia." We walk along a dirt path where blindfolded prisoners, tied to one another were dragged to large pits. They were forced to kneel beside the pit and in order to save ammunition one sharp blow was applied to the back of the head using an axe, shovel or bamboo stump. Another soldier would then slit their throats leaving them heaped upon each other, some dead, some still dying. Each one of these people died afraid and alone, their families will never see them again and they will always carry a heavy heart. We stop at a tree 

where soldiers smashed in the heads of babies and children. Teeth, fragments of bones and torn bits of clothing still litter the dirt floor and Alecs and I stop at a bench to reflect on what we've seen. "It's hard to believe this actually happened here," Alecs says as we listen to birds chirping in the distance. "We can only hear the sounds of nature now. The dead are silent," he adds.  Our last stop on a day of grim reflection and education is a large tower in the centre of the killing fields. This tower holds thousands upon thousands of skulls, bones and pieces of clothing from the victims killed here. Hundreds of skulls sit at eye level and I have to remind myself each one has a life, each one a story different from the next. We remain silent during the ride back reflecting about a life we will never know and a life those people will never have.

For many Cambodians the war is not yet over, as recently as 1994 bombings occurred in Phnom Penh and many Khmer Rouge hold positions of power within a corrupt government. Trials are finally underway for the higher ranking Khmer Rouge officials. However, for most people this will not ease their pain. For those who lost loved one the pain will never heal and they will never forget.

So long for now,

Alecs and Meg in Phnom Penh

"THIS TAKES 'POOL DAY' TO ANOTHER LEVEL"

PHNOM PENH, CAMBODIA

Temperature: 33 Degrees Celsius

Track of the day: "Before the Worst", The Script

"This bus is great," I say as Alecs and I sit on the front seats of the Mekong Express Limousine Bus to Phnom Penh. Our comfy seats include a tasty snack of pastries as well as water and a guide - all for just $12 and aside from the overnight bus in Laos, this is our best experience yet. We arrive in the capital city 1/2 an hour ahead of schedule and dodging a swarm of tuk-tuk drivers we head up the street to find our own and head to the Pavillion Hotel. Before we left Canada my parents booked us a hotel as a goodbye present that is many many many steps above the $6, $7/night places we've been staying in. We walk through a heavy wooden door to the enclosed complex that seems worlds away from the hustle and bustle of Phnom Penh. Large tropical trees loom over a huge crystal blue pool surrounded by private little nook's with overgrown fern, banana and palm trees towards reception. We check-in to our room, a massively oversized two bedroom place on the second floor with a large balcony overlooking the street behind the surrounding wall. We have a T.V., fridge, air-conditioning, hot water and free drinking water - what more could we ask for. "I think I'm going to sleep well tonight," Alecs says testing out the soft mattress and flipping through the T.V. channels. "TFC (the Filipino Channel), they have TFC," Alecs exclaims, giddy like a school boy about the idea of watching Filipino T.V. I roll my eyes at him and suggest we have dinner before he becomes glued to the screen. It's almost 8PM and after a six hour bus ride neither of us has the energy to go out so we eat at the restaurant next to the pool. We crash shortly after dinner, exhausted from a day of traveling and happy to be in such a comfortable place. 

We both sleep in the next morning, but when we finally wake up we excitedly pack and head to reception. Today we are checking into another room, one that was fully booked yesterday but available for the next three nights. We wait a few minutes as our new room is being cleaned

more excited than words can explain. "Okay, your room is ready," one of the staff says as she hands us the room key. We beeline it to our haven - a room similar to the one last night with one distinct difference. We walk through a large set of doors to the left of our room where we fund a lush patio with a sun-bed, table and chairs and the reason for our excitement - a

 6x3 meter private pool. "Move over hun," Alecs says leaping into the water with his swimsuit on in record time. We both dip into the blissfully cool freshwater pool and begin doing laps, diving and acting like kids in a candy shop. After very little discussion we both agree to a pool day spent in a tranquil private one we can call our own.  "This takes pool day to another level," Alecs says floating on his back watching the clouds go by. "Let's test out our snorkels," I say tossing them in the water for Alecs. We both strap the 

snorkels," I say tossing them in the mask and snorkel on and excitedly try them out. These 'dry snorkels' were a Christmas gift from my parents and they certainly live up to their name. We try everything to get water in them - submerging and inhaling, splashing, pouring water over them - nothing gets in and we happily continue using them. We use our new waterproof camera as well trying many different poses at the bottom of the pool - goofing around until the sun begins to fade. "I guess we should go out for dinner," I say finally after spending nearly five non-stop hours 

in the water. Alecs nods his head and

we get dressed to search for a tuk-tuk and a restaurant. We head to a small pizza shop on the riverbank and settle in for a cheap cheese pizza and some Angkor Beer. Small children wander through the many restaurants selling newspapers, bracelets, books, sunglasses and various other trinkets. A cool breeze blows in from the river and touts of tuk-tuk's gather together conversing and keeping an keen eye for any tourists who might need a ride. After dinner we wander up the riverbank, enjoying the view and scanning for a travel agency. "This one here," Alecs says spotting a large sign outside 'Phnom Penh Travel Co,' "Mekong Express bus from Phnom Penh to Sihanoukville," he adds walking in. We book two tickets to the beach of Cambodia before happily setting off back to our hotel. "I think it's time for a night swim," Alecs says flipping the light switch on by the pool. Four spot lights illuminate the surrounding wall creating a soft glow and one lights the pool floor making it a romantic and wonderful atmosphere for a swim. Quietly, we wade into the water and float on our backs gazing at the vibrant stars above. "This is amazing," I say to Alecs, "it's still hard to believe we

are actually here," I add. Alecs smiles knowingly and two hours later we are almost asleep floating in the pool. "I think we should get to sleep," Alecs says, "especially if we actually plan on accomplishing anything tomorrow," he adds. We walk back to the room and I fall asleep quickly while Alecs stays up for a few more hours watching 'Singing Bee,' on The Filipino Channel. 

Tomorrow will be a grim day as we learn the horrors committed by Khmer Rouge during the Pol Pot reign.

So long for now,

Alecs and Meg in Phnom Penh