Hanoi to Bangkok - Grounded: A Down to Earth Journey Around the World - page 71

On the way into Phnom Penh, we pass one of the sites known collectively as the “killing fields.” From
1975 to 1979, the Khmer Rouge government executed hundreds of thousands of Cambodians at places like
this, burying the bodies in mass graves. The regime's aim was a return to “Year Zero”—a mythical, utopian
age before ideas like capitalism and industrialization screwed everything up. Achieving this end apparently
required the Khmer Rouge to murder most of their countrymen. Phnom Penh itself (being a city, and thus
a symbol of evil modernity) was almost completely emptied as part of a forced evacuation of more than
2 million people. The city has gradually come back to life, and recently even turned into a bit of a tourist
destination.
We arrive in Phnom Penh just before sunset and check into the Hotel Cambodiana. From our top-floor
room we have a stunning view of a bend in the Mekong River. Tiny wooden fishing boats trawl the waters,
powered by outboard motors or, in some cases, paddles.
Downstairs, the hotel's casino is hopping. We start placing bets on the roulette wheel. A waitress comes
by with fruity drinks. We can't say no. All around us, packs of male Vietnamese tourists are gambling and
chain-smoking with equal intensity. They're much richer than their Cambodian neighbors, and it seems the
Vietnamese guys treat Phnom Penh as a sort of Tijuana.
Up on the stage, there's a Filipino cover band called Clyxx. Filipino cover bands—like eastern European
sex workers—appear to be one of the world's few endlessly renewable resources. I've seen Filipino disco
combos in Amsterdam, Dubai, Los Angeles . . . wherever there's a call for bland Billboard hits, they will
magically appear.
When Clyxx wraps up its performance, a man dubbing himself “Asia's Tom Jones” takes the stage. He is
indeed Asian and indeed a dead ringer for Tom Jones. He wears a giant gold cross beneath his unbuttoned,
flowing silk shirt. He of course opens his set with “It's Not Unusual.” Rebecca, by now drunk on all manner
of tropical beverages, glances around at the bloop-bleeping casino games, the shit-faced Vietnamese dudes,
the skimpily clad Cambodian cocktail waitresses, and the creepy-looking European men who all look like
police sketches of wanted pedophiles. She ponders the fact that this hotel, built in 1962, witnessed the ex-
odus of the entire city some thirty-five years ago, and the subsequent return of human life to Phnom Penh.
“It's not unusual. It happens every day,” sings Asia's Tom Jones.
“It's a little fucking unusual,” mumbles Rebecca.
WE'VE traveled enough now that I'm growing inured to the exotic and shocking—the feral animals on the
loose, the naked beggar children filling the sidewalks, the millions of moto-rickshaws careening around the
streets. None of it fazes me anymore. The fact is, though, Cambodia is the least-developed country we're
likely to visit on this trip. It's a bit of a wild frontier and, as such, tends to attract a slightly different flavor
of western tourist. My amateur research reveals that the western crowd here comprises two main categor-
ies:
First, the backpackers. These budget travelers come in search of crazy-cheap accommodations, a taste of
adventure, and—perhaps above all—marijuana. Strolling around the backpacker district in Phnom Penh,
I'm approached at least three separate times by Cambodian dealers whispering, “Good smokes? I have
good smokes.”
There's a strange economy in the backpacker district. Rooms are two dollars for the night. Pot is es-
sentially free, as it seems there's always someone passing around a joint. But a dog-eared, fifteen-year-old
English-language Tom Clancy paperback will run you a whopping five bucks. I suppose it's just supply and
demand.
The cheapest backpacker hostels are clustered on the banks of a swollen lake. We wander into the
grounds of a two-dollar-per-night guesthouse and find them completely flooded. A small fish jumps out of
the foot-deep murk, splashes back down, and disappears. A kid returning to his room has trouble opening