Dick Koger travels to Cambodia

Forty years ago, along the lines of the well-known expression “first see Naples, then die”, I had two goals in mind. Only my goals did not include Naples. I saw this place early on. It concerned the pyramids in Egypt and the Angkor Wat.

Twenty years ago I gave up on the first goal. My own fault, then I should not have moved to Thailand. But the Angkor Wat has never left my dreams. A trip to Cambodia should give me the freedom to exchange the temporary for the eternal. At the same time, let me say that Buddha decided otherwise. Six days in Cambodia did not get me to the famous temple.

Visit Immigration a few days before departure. With a completed form and copies of the relevant pages of my passport. There are 39 people ahead of me, so it takes a while, but of course I get the required stamp. At least for 1.000 Baht. In the Siam Commercial Bank I want to exchange some Baht for dollars, because that would be necessary in Cambodia. I can't, because I have to order them in advance. Then no dollars.

We go out with five Dutch friends. Just before half past nine I am waiting in front of the pharmacist. I'm expecting a van, but it's a big car. When we have picked everyone up, we are not sitting comfortably, with the luggage on our laps. No problem, we're on vacation. Twelve hours we are at Don Muang, the old airport of Bangkok. When we pass through the baggage check, something happens to me that really hurts me.

In 1971 I left for India for six months and friends gave me a handy utensil: a steel plate the size of a double-thick credit card. Shaped like a saw on one side, a knife on the other. An opening served as a bottle opener. And a few other tricks. The case around it also contained a piece of mica in the form of a lens, with which you could ignite a fire with the help of the sun. Although I have not sawed or cut much, the bottle opener has regularly served. Ever since I got this device, I've always had it with me. Say 12.000 days. That creates a bond. My fanny pack goes through an X-ray machine and then all eight compartments are carefully checked by a hefty aunt. My credit card is pulled out triumphantly. Immediately the terrorist in me is recognized. No matter how much I beg and argue that I can't possibly crash a plane with this, it doesn't help. My faithful companion must stay behind. The alternative is that I don't fly with you.

After an hour and a half we land at Phnom Penh airport. A visa costs 20 dollars and a taxi to our hotel 10 dollars. So dollars, other money is not accepted, let alone the Cambodian Riel. In Hotel Tune, where the three of us camp, we receive a welcome drink, a cooled piece of cloth for refreshment, our room keys and the WiFi address. It is now five o'clock in the afternoon. We have a drink in the restaurant, where you also have to pay in dollars. You get change, smaller than a dollar, in Cambodian Riels. By thousands at a time. I take it easy, my two hotel mates go to the hotel of the other three. In my room the given WiFi password does not work, so no Internet.

Breakfast at seven o'clock. This is fine with an extensive buffet, eastern and western. The internet works in the lobby, so I watch the penultimate broadcast of 'De slimste mens' there. Half past ten we go by tuktuk to the other hotel. It is called Grand Mekong and overlooks the Mekong, but is otherwise not big but small. The tuktuks here cannot be compared to those in Bangkok. In Bangkok for two people and no view unless you put your head on your knees. Here for four people, two looking forward and two backwards. Traffic is chaotic, no idea who has right of way at an equivalent intersection.

We play bridge, we eat, we play bridge and we eat. Dinner in an excellent French restaurant. I'll have a delicious steak tartare. It is gradually becoming clear to me from the discussions that no one wants to go to Angkor Wat. Too far by road, too expensive by plane. It is much easier to fly direct from Bangkok to Siem Reap. That's all true, but no hindrance for me. It's not fun on my own, so I have to accept that dying is not in it for the time being. Back at the hotel, I am confronted with the fact that fortunately I don't have a full length mirror at home. The sight of my body does not cheer me up. How is it possible that Thais have no trouble here. In fact, there is only one remedy for aging and physical decline: moving to Thailand.

Breakfast on the roof terrace, The smartest person in the lobby. Ten hours to the Grand Mekong Hotel. No bridge, but with my bridge partner, Fred, we're going to the national museum. Lots of Buddha statues. Funny thing is that every country has its own Buddha ideal. China a cozy fat boy, Thailand an elegant young man, almost feminine, and Cambodia a somewhat angular, rustic figure. The building in which the museum is located is actually the most beautiful. Built in a square around a large garden.

To soak up some Cambodian culture, let's take ourselves to the Wat Bottum Vattey, the largest temple on the map. Not interesting, all new construction. Later I will understand that Buddhism was also banned during the Khmer Rouge regime. So important temples were built only after 1980. We ask the driver of the Tuktuk to drive us around Phnom Penh at his own discretion. He proudly takes us to an island in the Mekong with only vacant new-build offices. Also a new town hall and a new fire station. I understand his pride, but this is not what we meant. We eat in a Pizza Hut, not typical Cambodian, but tasty.

In the hotel we talk to the reception about extending the three nights we paid for. That's not even certain, but prices are going up. A logical development in the East. Booking via the Internet does not help, because it does indeed state that there are no more rooms. They are willing to give us a better room for the higher price. I'll get it today. In the front and twice the size. Not important, but in this room I receive flawless Internet. Bridge in the Grand Mekong. I go back to the hotel alone and sleep well.

In the morning I watch the final of De slimste mens in my bed. My favorite wins, albeit by only a few seconds. The breakfast room is so busy that half of the offer is missing, including forks and glasses. Don't worry, I'll be fine. Later we drive back to the other hotel. There are big differences between Thailand and Cambodia. Here they drive on the right side of the road, although not fanatically: for short distances people do not cross. We don't see pick-up trucks here, in Thailand 80% of the traffic is of this type. I miss 7-Eleven the most here.

The two of us go to a shopping mall. Large and luxurious. Later I eat an onion soup in the French restaurant. Then we all go to the largest market in Phnom Penh. Much nicer than the mall. Only walking between the many covered stalls is difficult. I feel I can't keep this up. Fortunately I can reach our tuktuk and talk to the friendly driver there. Or rather he talks. He has a foreign boyfriend, who has been very good to him and his family for years. That friend is an unmarried teacher of 48 and he lives in Rotterdam. The man would have had a heart attack and after his operation he is no longer available. I tell them that I was born in Rotterdam. That creates a bond, but I can't help him. Some more bridge in a restaurant on the Mekong and then I go to bed.

Today I am alone in the breakfast room. That's the other extreme. Fred and I go to the Grand Mekong for a while, but don't stay there long. History lesson today. First the so-called Killing Fields. During the Khmer Rouge regime in the 3.000.000s, 8.000.000 out of XNUMX Cambodians were murdered. Because they disagreed with the regime. Because they were intellectual. Because they wore glasses. Because they read books. Because they were Buddhist. Cities were against human nature. So they had to be emptied. Everyone had to go to the countryside.

It is indescribable how one madman has so terrorized a country. Hitler was terrible for his anti-Semitic acts, Pol Pot killed his own people. The Killing Fields in Phnom Penh is just one of thousands. For 6 dollars everyone gets a pair of headphones and a device that, in our case in Dutch, explains soberly what happened here. Trucks full of “wrong” Cambodians were brought here and brutally murdered. A tree recalls the fact that children were beaten with their heads against it and killed in front of their mothers. All the dead disappeared in mass graves. In the middle of the grounds a large stupa has been erected with the skulls of excavated corpses behind glass.

And the world did nothing. After this we go to the second memorial of this horrible period, the torture school. Every classroom was set up as a torture chamber and torture means torture. Below are some photos that make words superfluous.

We knew the history, but seeing these horrors only makes you realize what a tragedy this has been. Pol Pot just died at home. We go back to the hotel and I stay there for the rest of the day.

The next day I start with 'De Wereld Draait Door', the first broadcast of the new season. Then the first edition of Pauw. This talk show needs to lighten up a bit, because this beginning is just boring. We play bridge for the rest of the day. At four o'clock I go back to the hotel. My physical possibilities are limited anyway, because I feel tired. Can't call home. My mobile appears to be used exclusively in Thailand.

The last day. First Pauw (now a bit more fun), then De Wereld Draait Door. Marjolein, an old friend from Pattaya, who now lives here, comes along to play bridge. We have lunch and take a taxi to the airport. 6.30 am we are in Bangkok, 9 am back in Pattaya. I close the garden gate noisily on purpose. Immediately the smiling face of Noth, the ten-year-old son of the family, appears from behind the curtain. He flies to the door, opens it and jumps into my arms. A little later I ask him if there have been any problems in the past week. With a serious face he says: “Yes, every day, because every day no Dick.” Then he bursts into laughter.