Travelled: December 19, 2015

The bus ride from Ho Chi Minh City to Phnom Penh was rather pleasant for a 7 hour bus ride with a barely reclining chair. I had a window seat and a woman who sat next to me for a mere hour. Other than that I was able to sprawl out a bit and get comfortable. Crossing the border was easy. Long Phuong bus took care of the Visa application form and pretty much everything except for the payment.

It’s $35 USD for a 30 day single entry visa. I had $41 left from what the Vietcombank couldn’t convert for me back in July. There was a reason for that…it wasn’t accepted for my visa either due to one bill having writing on it and one with tape. Great. I ended up converting some money in line at the border, but not enough- leaving me with some USD and some Cambodian riels. The coordinator on our bus had the driver pull over for me so I could take out money from the ATM. (So for anyone traveling to Cambodia, make sure you have crisp, fresh from the bank USD upon arrival.)

After pulling over we stopped for food. I got a chicken curry, which was delicious until I found a full black feather stewed up with my meal. Getting back on the road, the bus arrived in Phnom Penh at 1:00pm. I took a tuk tuk to One Stop Hostel to check in and book my overnight bus to Siem Reap. With not enough time to do both the Killing Fields and Tuol Sleng Museum of Genocide, I prioritized and went with the Killing Fields. For $13, Sothea (so-tea-uh), my tuk tuk driver, drove me to the fields, about 40 minutes outside city center, and back.

The gruesome stories and setting of the killing field was very eye opening to the brutality humans can obtain. Being only $6 admission, it included an audio tour that gave you an in depth history and stories of victims and survivors during the the Khmer Rouge Regime in 1975. I spent well over two hours walking through and listening. Sparing the bloody details, this brutal Cambodian genocide should be something you look up or go see one day if it interests you.

When I got back to the tuk tuk, Sothea pulled out pictures and told me about his own family and how they were prisoners. His father was killed at one of the other killing fields. At 10 years old, Sothea was beaten for playing. He shared his stories with such an open heart, as sadness waved through his voice and eyes. As we headed back to my hostel, we were caught in traffic jams amongst small, bumpy dirt roads full of people selling and buying things at the market.

As we were approaching closer to city center Sothea asked me if I wanted to join him for dinner at his house with his family. The sun was setting to a dim light and of course I was skeptical being a solo female traveler, but something in me felt safe and sure it was only a good intention, so, I said yes. We carried on our way to his family’s home, passing through a temple with practicing monks, to lead us outside his home where it was set up with tents, round tables with table covers, chairs with seat covers and sashes, and full of smiling people eating, drinking and laughing through conversation. It was a celebration of life for his grandmother. Being the only westerner, with my pale skin, green eyes and long blonde hair, I was of course looked at, but only with the kindest eyes and smiles. Those who spoke English greeted me with the warmest welcomes. I met Sothea’s beautiful wife and four daughters, one of which is also an English teacher.

Each table had a large pot in the center full of home cooked Babaw, a rice and meat soup. This one was full of assorted mushrooms, shrimp, pork, chicken and green garnishes. It was incredible. Sothea served me a bowl with a glass of Fanta grape soda to go along with it. After demolishing (as politely as possible) my first bowl, he gave me a second portion before the end of my last bite. Dessert was jack fruit and sweetened crackers (I wouldn’t quite call them ‘cookies’). After eating I talked with his family for a bit before we headed back to my hostel.

Within hours I was transfixed at how cruel the world could be and how inviting, generous and kind humanity is capable of being. Driving through poverty where children are in rags of clothes (if in any clothes at all), playing in rubbles of dirt, trash and torn down cement buildings, they were playing with sticks, laughing, waving and appearing happy as could be. There is so much beauty and non-materialistic riches residing in Cambodia, it truly is amazing. I finished off the evening going to the night market with some people I met from my hostel before getting on the midnight sleeper bus to Siem Reap…