Patiently passing time

Of holding hands and red bouquets
And twilights trimmed in purple haze
And laughing eyes and simple ways
And quiet nights and gentle days with you
- Elvis Presley: 'Memories'

So what's happened since we last connected? Hmm... well, being virtually house-bound, life has not exactly been adventurous, unless you consider negotiating the bathroom on crutches, out-patient visits to hospital or the awaiting of test results to be particularly exciting. But life isn't all about excitement though is it? Thankfully not, because it would make my current state of immobility ever the more frustrating.

The hospital trip last Monday was fine; having a plaster-cast cut off with an angle-grinder is a pretty tense experience but thankfully nothing important was removed in error. I now have a brand-new cast, only this time it is up to my knee and a little more cumbersome, so it's taking some getting used to. At least I can rest my heel down now. I do manage a few forays into the outside world though and managed to go to football with my uncle again last week although did find myself doing some inadvertent break-dancing on the rain-sodden path running up to my front door.

As I write this, I'm looking out of my bedroom window admiring the garden as its many colours change betwixt the sun waving goodbye to the summer through the clouds, and the occasional downpour. The hospital consultant had asked me if I liked football & cricket and that if I did, I was to watch as much of it as possible on TV as I am not to attempt any normal activity for at least another month. Trouble is, I haven't got a telly so this gives my mind an opportunity to exercise itself whilst the rest of me quietly awaits the nod to resume normal service.

Just taking things a day at a time is something I need to learn to do as I can't help but drift off to foreign lands. The familiarity of the UK was admittedly attractive at first but that has tailed off sharply leaving me in a sort of limbo-land. Ideally, the best of both worlds would be the order of the day like many enjoy serving overseas: a season's service then a season's return to maintain relationships. In reality, I'll never own my own place in the UK and this week I have been challenged about making a decision about doing one or the other.

Maybe we all have days wondering if the grass is greener somewhere else but I'm fortunate enough to have had the opportunity to explore this and the grass abroad has often been sun-scorched or non-existent when you compare to how lush it is in the UK. But like the grass, it isn't as cut-and-dried as that - abroad there are stretches of lushness whilst for me, patches of bareness increasingly exist here. I guess I am something of an idealist at heart which is why the verse from Elvis's 'Memories' precedes this episode.

Facebook messages from my Khmer students tug at my heart as does the plight of the Vietnamese. Life itself in Cambodia is an attractive prospect, all things considered. Ministry is one thing but the draw of affordable living is another. Could I overcome some of the issues I experienced last time? Do I need to? Should I return to Siemreap or settle somewhere else? Do I actually need to seek out a church where I 'fit'? Is church involvement a prerequisite anyway?

Maybe I'm having some sort of mid-life crisis or something but if you're merely being patient with the patience of God then there is no crisis - you just wait on Him and He will reveal Himself in His time.

Finally, I am very thankful for the friends I have in my life; despite my independence, I have had to rely on help which has been very much appreciated. Hopefully my reckless driving of the supermarket mobility scooter hasn't put anybody off!

In the eye of the storm

OK you could be fooled into thinking that I'm writing about the rainy season but although I'm not actually writing this from Cambodia, I thought it worthwhile putting down in words the way my life has been unfolding. If you've read my accounts of life in Cambodia you'll recall that there were times when life was a challenge - cultural differences and illness all played their part at some time or other but feedback received upon leaving and since returning from the UK has included the question of when a return to Cambodia can be expected.

Now I know that God uses circumstances to speak to us all and I cannot recall ever feeling so unsettled in the UK. I thought I needed to 'give it a go' here to see if this was where roots were to be laid down and indeed, I was glad for familiarity upon my return to Bournemouth.

But.. it hasn't worked out. Maybe I've changed, maybe Cambodia has given me an improved insight into situations that I know God has called me out of. In the beginning, I just wanted to settle back in the UK but I can't, I wasn't allowed to and I soon I found myself longing for the authenticity, gentleness and friendship of the Khmer people. I remember the time the Cambodian pastor laid his head on my shoulder as he listened intently to something I was telling him; nothing iffy about that, it's just the way they are. The facebook messages addressing me as 'teacher' and hearing tales of the kids enjoying the monsoon rains all compounds the thought of 'what am I doing here?'. Upon returning to the UK I can't help but bring these nations' peoples into comparison, especially when the riots were happening the other week and, amongst other things, when my next-door neighbour had a go when I apparently parked 'on his land'.

So what's happened? Well, I've moved house again, I lost my job when the school went into liquidation, I broke my foot in a motorcycle accident and now have an MRI scan to get to the bottom of the headaches I've been having. It's been a nightmare and something's telling me that coming back here was a mistake - but maybe this is how God is speaking to me. I do realise of course that there are people facing far worse situations than I and this is not a 'why me?' message - in fact, why not me? - what makes me exempt from suffering? I'm reminded of the story of Job, a faithful, God-fearing man whose world crashed down around him losing everything he owned and family he loved. But still He praised God and in the end, all was restored unto him and then some.

Now I'm not Job, I don't have the smallest percentage of faithfulness that he possessed but he walked right and that inspires me in these uncertain times. I am reminded of what Jesus has already done for us and that our salvation is a done deal for those who have accepted Him and aspire to do His will in every aspect of their lives.

OK so some things do worry me right now; maybe life isn't as I thought it'd pan out. But I do know that God is in control and I will endeavour to keep that at the forefront of my mind.

Humbled & Reflective

John 17

At the International Fellowship in Cambodia, we had a showing of the Passion of the Christ on Good Friday. Like many, I saw it when it first came out and I think this is the third time I've seen it. I know that for some it is too distressing and graphic, which it certainly is, but then again I realised how important it was for me to be reminded of the horror of the crucifixion. Jesus's suffering is unimaginable and what He endured was the most selfless act in history; but what I kept being reminded of was that this was all for you and me, taking the punishment for our wrongdoing - I was just staggered as to how much this realisation hit home to me again. Maybe it's just me that needed to be reminded but how thankful I am that God chose Jesus to take my place.

Now, I like devotionals; in fact, a few years ago God used UCB's Word for Today to bring two precious people in my life unto Him. Of course, they're not intended replace the actual reading of the Bible but for me, they always give me something to ponder. These days, there are an array of different devotionals and podcasts available and I was listening to one the other day which centred around Jesus's prayer in John 17, just before he is about to be nailed to a cross. Who does He pray for? Us. He prays for us. If I were in His situation, I know who I'd have been praying for but His love for us is something for which words are merely insufficient.

We also had an Easter service at the Vietnamese school and there was a short farewell from everyone for me which was truly touching. The words in the card will remain with me forever as will the smiles on the faces of the kids who resoundingly stated that they want me to come back. I returned the motorbike and cycle back to Pastor Timothy at the village church and bumped into a couple of students from my Khmer class who asked me to teach them again. Praise and affirmation have been received from areas of ministry that I sense is God's confirmation of my being in His will.

I'm humbled. Humbled that God has used me in Cambodia and I'm thankful for all the other areas in which it has been possible to serve: from compiling a training manual to sorting medical supplies and digging a drainage ditch at the guesthouse. Spending time with other travellers, sharing faith with them and allowing them to talk through their frustrations and joys.

Last week, I even successfully endured the Khmer dentist: it was a but agricultural but I came out alive.

So now I have made it back here to Thailand where I'm reflecting over the last six months, about raising awareness back home and thinking about how God may unfold His plan. Even with its ups and downs, it has been the most incredible experience. Southeast Asia is familiar to me but my life has been changed and I'm sure going back to England will take a bit of getting used to.

Thank you for praying for me and for keeping me in your thoughts.

A day in the life of an epchai

1 Peter 4:10-11

As each has received a gift, use it to serve one another, as good stewards of God's varied grace: whoever speaks, as one who speaks oracles of God; whoever serves, as one who serves by the strength that God supplies in order that in everything God may be glorified through Jesus Christ. To him belong glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen.

This morning I was up at 5am to be at the Vietnamese school where I'd arranged to go out with some of the kids to do what they have to do to support their families - garbage picking or 'epchai'. Than Nguyen and I walked to the 'depot', a collection of houses in a nearby street, where we were soon joined by three of our students, (one more joined us en route) ready to head out onto the busy dusty streets during the Cambodian sunrise to see what we could find.

Grubby but always grinning, the kids skipped off ahead of me with their bags ready to fill with whatever had been left behind. There were five of us, me and the four kids aged between seven & fourteen years old. First we went up to Psa Leu Market and had a rummage around as the traders were unpacking their wares ready to sell; then we made our way back towards the river, crossing open sewers and stopping at intervals to go through rubbish bins by the side of the road. I winced as they fearlessly darted in and out of the traffic as they homed in on more dumped rubbish on the opposite side of the road.

Then, upon returning to the school grounds, we had a game of catch, then football, which we all enjoyed immensely. Of course, that's what we all know that they should've been doing all along, rather than traipsing the streets looking for rubbish for which they receive about $1.50 per day, if they manage to do three shifts.

But who am I to comment? There's not much that can be done to stop the kids having to go out and do this type of work. Their parents are very poor and often illiterate with a poor grasp of the Cambodian language, merely doing what they can to get by. It can't be easy having to exploit your own children just to pay the rent and feed the family. Tragically, there are far worse lengths that parents go to use their children to raise money for which prevention is the key before rescue becomes the only option.

Sadly, at school-leaving age, many are unable to find jobs and so are forced to continue the life of a rubbish picker, a vocation which is looked down upon. As a Christian organisation, we aim educate the kids to give them a chance that they may well go on to achieve something and also assist the families wherever possible.

On Sundays, there are two church services held at the school for the Vietnamese and both youth and adult services are growing in number. The Gospel is shared, hope is extended and lives changed.

One of the leaders is to return to their home nation so I have been asked to stay out here for a further year to continue teaching at the school, learn Vietnamese and to provide administrative support so I will be returning to the UK in May for a brief period before heading back out here. It's going to be quite a responsibility but one that I am ready for.

Thanks for taking time to keep up with all that has been happening out here. Most of all I appreciate your prayers thus far and also for these coming months.

Back from the Land of Smiles

Why should I lack faith to fulfill my calling knowing that God has allotted to me a measure of faith?

Romans 12v3 - For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the faith God has distributed to each of you.

The last couple of weeks have provided the opportunity to meet with other friends in ministry in Asia and so I took the overland trek by tuk-tuk, bus and train over the border and into Thailand, destination Chiang Mai, Thailand’s second city famed for its fortified walls protecting them from historical Burmese invaders and the hill-tribes inhabiting the surrounding mountains.

On the bus from the Thai border to Bangkok, I got talking to a Scotsman who, it transpired, went to Bournemouth Art College in the eighties and upon completion of the course, drove a classic mini from Bournemouth to Tehran! Small world. We had a meal in Bangkok and our life journeys had some parallels so it was great to share with him what God has done in my life.

There’s something about Thailand that draws me and it has come a long way since my first foray into this part of the world nearly 13 years ago. The first time I went there was before I’d become a Christian and visits since then have given me insight into the lives of the hill-tribes and the plight of Japanese prisoners of war building the notorious death railway in Kanchanaburi.

I took the overnight sleeper train to Chiang Mai, where I stayed with a couple who are friends of mine from church in England who have a great ministry to previously unreached people groups in Laos, China, Vietnam and Thailand. It was very encouraging for me to see some familiar faces and to visit their radio ministry. Last Sunday, after attending a Thai church, we did a live Skype link with our church back in England and were even able to see the congregation via computer as we were beamed live onto the projector screen in church back in the UK.

Early in the week we took a four-wheel drive truck on a 3-hour mountainous drive to visit some friends from two different tribes who run a sustainable farming project near the Burmese border. It was very interesting to see how farming communities can be helped to make the most of their land and to learn about environmentally-friendly building techniques at no cost to them. This in turn helps the preservation of their cultural heritage as the people can learn to farm their own land rather than head to the cities to find employment.

For my friends in Thailand: - it was such a blessing to be able to stay with you and to sample life in a typical Thai neighbourhood. Thank you.

I left Chiang Mai on the sleeper train arriving bleary-eyed in Bangkok very early on Saturday morning. After a couple of hours killing time in the so-called City of Angels I boarded the 3rd class train to Aranyaprathet, Thailand’s land border with Cambodia, which has been notorious difficult to cross for years. Over-priced visas, corrupt transport providers, con-men in fake official uniforms and various other quite convincing scam artists stand between you and the point of entry.

When returning into Cambodia it is best to have your visa pre-arranged or you face a battle to avoid being ripped off by these ‘officials’. Thankfully, I’ve a long-term multiple entry Cambodian visa so it was fairly trouble-free. I actually hooked up with a guy doing ministry on the Cambodian side of the border and the two of us went across without much hassle although when we walked across into the Cambodian border town of Poipet (known as the armpit of Cambodia), he disappeared when we got through immigration! This left me using my very best, basic Khmer to do battle with the local mafioso to try to secure a seat in a taxi back to Siemreap.

A German couple heard me trying to negotiate with a transport provider and eagerly wanted to share the journey so we got 3 seats in a Toyota Camry and set off for Siemreap.

So there I was in the back of a taxi with the Germans – they spoke little English and so I was called upon to muster up my schoolboy German which had been wedged somewhere in the back of my brain for the last goodness-knows how many years. Eventful, it started out with just the three of us after having negotiated a price for the 2-hour journey back to Siemreap; however, on the outskirts of Poopet sorry Poipet, we were joined in the front seat by a rather intoxicated Cambodian who spent the next hour-or-so trying to be as annoying as he possibly could until he eventually got out. As he got out another local climbed in. Taxi? It was more like a local bus service.

Anyway, after bidding farewell to the German couple, tired and sweaty I made it back in time for the service at the international church where we had a dedicated prayer-time for the sad happenings in Japan.

So here I am back in Cambodia, the Land of Wonder. Upon arrival back here at the guesthouse it was like coming home. The staff here have become my friends and love being able to love them. They made me so welcome and they were virtually queuing up to personally welcome me back. In this respect, the Cambodians are truly unforgettable.

I’m now back at the Vietnamese school and this week will continue working on the training manual for the children’s home staff. I’m also heading back out into rural Cambodia with Dani from church again and will be playing football with the guys from the childrens home later in the week.

Oh and I have eaten bugs! (see pic of me with helmet on) I joined the staff here at the guesthouse who were tucking into their large deep-fried beetle-looking creatures and they were very keen to see me try some. I picked the legs off it (as you do) and it actually tasted quite meaty…well, sort of.

Until next time.. thank you for journeying with me and praying for me.

A mission to the south (update)

I know I've written about my 2-week trip already but I've realised that, upon reflection, there's so much more to be shared so here it is again in its entirety!

Two weeks break has enabled me to take in some of the other gems that Cambodia has to offer. From Phnom Penh I journeyed south to the seaside town of Kep, trekking around the national park which I had virtually all to myself. The mountainside provides amazing views of the surrounding coastline and distant bonfires from local villages.

I stayed a night in a bamboo hut on Koh Tonsay (Rabbit Island) which has no motor vehicles and electricity for only a few hours a day. It was good to be able to inform people of the plight of the Vietnamese and the work being done by the CMA in Siemreap.

From there, I took the bus to Kampot which is about 26km along the coast. There was a German guy on the bus who was a little too keen to join me to find a guesthouse in order to share a room to lower costs. Whilst it’s good to help people on the road, I had a gut feeling that this would not be a wise decision and despite repeatedly telling him I was a confirmed lone-traveller, he seemed to get increasingly agitated. I told him that if he had a problem, he knew where to find me but that he’d have to find a room elsewhere. Thankfully, he went on his way and I went off to find a pub with wi-fi so that I could follow the Cherries, which I managed to do.

The next day, I took a 100km bus ride to Sihanoukville which is a coastal town in southern Cambodia that sees many contrasts – from the opulence of the Russians who own significant portions of the area to the long-time Euro ex-pats who, by the look of them, perhaps really should think about going home. And then of course there’s the Khmers whose faces light up when attempts are made to communicate with them in their own language and when you smile and show them respect – that’s what their culture is all about..goodness knows what they must think of ours.

I hooked up with a French girl so we split tuk-tuk fares whilst trying to find accommodation. The middle beaches are over-crowded and the surrounding area is a tourist ghetto so we headed for Otres beach, with white sand and swaying palms. We found mushroom-shaped bamboo-thatched beach bungalows which even had a dormitory which was her preferred choice of accommodation. I had my own simple bungalow with just a thin mattress, pillow, towel and a hanging wickerwork light.

We chatted on the beach and it was obvious that she lived a hedonistic lifestyle but then that’s what many backpackers are all about: they travel to distant places to party and to be devoid of the cares and responsibilities of back home. She’d been talking about a book she was reading about people who have everything but still have something missing. So I gave her my testimony through which it was revealed to her what that missing something is. She listened intently to the story of how I came to Christ and although her response was one of respectful apathy, I prayed that my words would linger long in her memory and that those seeds, having been initially sown, would then be watered by the continued chain of divine appointment.

Anyway, as I spent the next day or so vomiting for England, I decided to move to another part of Sihanoukville where I could recuperate in the relative luxury of a room with air-conditioning.

I stumbled across a street in town full of bars and westerners who obviously aren’t in Cambodia to visit temples. I heard some of them discussing their previous night’s behaviour and it saddened me: these guys were British, probably retirees, and I thought to myself how sad it is that they don’t know any other way or if they do, choose to not adhere to it. It’s nice to be different from those who come here merely to corrupt and exploit the innocence of the local people.

I heard another Brit in an internet café the other day, shouting in English to try to make himself understood and quite frankly it was utterly embarrassing, everything I hate about Brits abroad; he then upped and left without paying.

At my accommodation, it was a shame though as I went down to reception to discover the normally-playful guesthouse dog lying in a pool of blood. I tried to find out what happened:

Me: “What’s happened to the dog?”
Receptionist: “Someone try to kill him”
Me: “Why ever would anyone want to do that??”
Receptionist: “So they can eat him.”

Well, I did ask.

The next morning I discovered that the dog had since died. I didn’t, however, ask how he was disposed of so I stuck to beans on toast at the guesthouse restaurant just in case.

So anyway, I spent time on the beach this week and Asia is a place where you can get hassled relentlessly on beaches but at Victory beach the Cambodians aren’t as full-on as other places I’ve experienced.

Before long though, I was approached by two young local women, one of whom wanted to deliver the services of manicure and pedicure and the other was selling fried lobster from a large basket carried above her head. Now let’s get this straight, I am not a regular at receiving such pampering but before long I was having my nails clipped and filed (although at times it felt like she was using an angle grinder).

I was being asked the usual questions: “Where your wife?” and “Why you no married?” whilst at the same time refusing the continued sales patter of the lady lobster seller, who couldn’t understand how I’d succumbed to the lure of a manicure whilst not desiring one of her once-fresh fried lobsters.

“Your skin velly bad - my lobster good for your skin” she said. “If you have lobster, your skin get velly good and you find velly nice wife when you go home!”

Even with such a high level of commitment to marketing creativity, I continued to resist and her lobsters remained at the mercy of the mid-day sun and on she went to find some custom.

Still having my nails done (sounds really weird saying that) I was talking to the girl in English and bits of broken Khmer about being a Christian and working with the Vietnamese. She said she was a Buddhist and when I asked her why, she said it was because her parents were. Amazingly, she then asked me why I was a Christian so I was able to tell her about Jesus and why He died, about grace, forgiveness and heaven. As she carried on clipping my nails I went on to share my testimony in part, in a way that I sensed would be relevant to her.

As I told her that Jesus loved her, her response was interesting. She asked how Jesus could love her whilst she didn’t love Him so I told her that He loved her anyway and that He had a plan for her life.

Unfortunately, I didn’t know her name but God does and my prayer is that it is a name that is written in the Book of Life. You know, it is a whole lot easier sharing Jesus when you realize that God is already at work in that person’s life.. and this encounter was God using me the way I’m wired and it is for reasons like this day that I am out here doing what I’m doing.

So, with a tinge of sadness, I left Sihanoukville for Phnom Penh and then back home to Siemreap. It wasn't without incident as the bus had another puncture and we had to stop off at a tyre-fitter's to have the spare put on. The spare, however, was bald and even had a split in it! Thankfully, we made it back OK :0)

Until next time
Dan

A Post from Phnom Penh

I’d been so looking forward to getting away from Siemreap for a couple of weeks but it didn’t start well as firstly my pick-up didn’t arrive to take me to the bus station. When I got on the bus, I discovered that my seat had been double-booked so I ended up sitting up the front with the driver, putting my feet on the dashboard as there was no leg room.

Then en-route, we had a tyre blow-out which went with a huge bang but one of the locals on board was soon clambering under the bus, jacking it up (with people still on board!) and then changing the wheel at the roadside. The tyre that blew out had a huge hole ripped out of it so I guess we were quite lucky.

Six hours later, I arrived at the guest house to be told that they’d forgotten to book me in(!) so I stayed in another one just across the road which on the whole turned out OK. Funny really, as frustrating as things can be out here, you just become accustomed to expect the unexpected and you just smile and deal with it. You should never kick up a fuss out here (a cultural no-no) and besides, things usually work out. Sadly though, some do still forget to leave their western ways at home.

Anyway, think of a city - terrorist attacks, muggings, knife-crime.. I’d heard stuff about Phnom Penh being lawless but actually these things only come to mind when I think of London. As I wandered the streets of Phnom Penh I felt less threatened than in London. Actually, there is a real friendliness from the locals as you greet them in their language as you wander the wide tree-lined boulevards admiring the French colonial architecture.

Phnom Penh was smaller than I’d anticipated and I’d say that you can walk most of it in a day. The waterfront is particularly nice as you take in the refreshing breeze from the river which you can feel as you approach it from the city. The first notable landmark I came across was Diamond Bridge (below), where over 350 people lost their lives in a stampede during a Buddhist water festival in November last year. It was eerie standing on the same spot where so many had perished but it was an opportunity to pause for thought and pray for those who were lost and for those still in hospital.

I continued on my way along the waterfront and chose to sit down at Sisowath Quay, facing the water for a while and to take the opportunity to pray quietly. As I sat, I was approached by a young woman, unkempt and speaking very broken English. She sat down beside me and for the first time on the trip, I was physically offered drugs; she took out a plastic packet and discreetly showed it to me. I guess I should’ve known that this was going to happen at some point and so after my obvious declination, we then had a very interesting conversation albeit in my very broken Khmer and her smattering of English.

I just felt such pity for her; her face was drawn and she seemed to have an underlying unhappiness. I told her that she didn’t need to do what she was doing and that Jesus loved her and that He had a better plan for her life. But at this point (and for my own safety) I wasn’t hanging around. It was wise to move on so I stopped briefly to chat with a security guard and then made my way back into town, praying for the girl as I went.

However, my main purpose for visiting Phnom Penh was to understand more about how the people suffered under the Khmer Rouge’s regime of extreme communism. During this time in the seventies, the people of Phnom Penh and other large towns and cities were evacuated to the countryside to carry out forced labour. The educated of society were imprisoned and executed; you didn’t have to be particularly well-educated but if you, for example, were a local government officer or even merely wore spectacles then you were on the Khmer Rouge’s hit list.

Many people were held in the S21 prison in Phnom Penh (pictured above, which was ironically a high school formerly) where they were tortured. It is now a museum but much of it is exactly as it was left. As you walk into each cell, all they contain are a single metal bed and the implements of torture that are still there after all these years. There are photos on some of the walls showing some of the victims just after they had been tortured in the very room in which you are standing. They were beaten, water-boarded and electrocuted for ‘confessions’ of crimes against the state.

Many died there but many were blindfolded and then transported by truck the 15km to the Killing Fields of Cheung Ek where they were mercilessly beaten to death and buried in shallow graves. No-one was exempt; men, women and children were all killed. Excavation in recent years has enabled some of the people to be given more dignified burials but many of the human remains are now on display inside tiered glass cabinets (pictured above)in a stupa built as a memorial to all who lost their lives. As the years and subsequent monsoon rains pass, the site gives up more and more of its grisly past as more remains and pieces of clothing are brought to the surface.

As I walked the grounds, I remembered that a friend had previously visited the site and had mentioned the prominence of Ezekiel 37 5:6: 4 Then he said to me, “Prophesy to these bones and say to them, ‘Dry bones, hear the word of the LORD! 5 This is what the Sovereign LORD says to these bones: I will make breath enter you, and you will come to life. 6 I will attach tendons to you and make flesh come upon you and cover you with skin; I will put breath in you, and you will come to life. Then you will know that I am the LORD.’” Indeed, there are many sites such as this all over Cambodia, some still being discovered today. Millions died due to Pol Pot's extreme idealism - they innocently followed their dictator's order to be lead into the countryside to become 'New People' but instead were to be slaughtered or to die of malnutrition, disease and from utter despair. Sometimes lessons from history are never learned from but hopefully this will be something never to be repeated.

So in conclusion, I valued my time in Phnom Penh; I loved walking around in the heat of the day taking in the atmosphere, witnessing the grandeur of the Royal Palace, the spiritual significance of Wat Phnom and the crazy markets where you can buy pretty much anything.

It was hard to imagine the streets being so empty after the initial evacuation by the Khmer rouge 30-odd years ago but now, as this city aims to retain something of its glorious past in the days prior to its troubles, it is now building upwards to accommodate those entrusted with the economic growth of its future.