Cambodia

Today was a museum day for me. I traversed the smooth paved streets and bumpy dirt roads on my electric scooter and visited three.

First up was the Angkor National Museum. It showcases the art, history, and culture of the Khmer Empire, with a focus on Angkorian artifacts. It’s well-organized with interactive exhibits, providing deeper context for Angkor’s temples. It’s an air-conditioned museum. And, unfortunately, I visited it after tackling many temples in the flesh. The artifacts are beautiful, but after visiting temples in the jungle, the setting felt sterile and disconnected. The exit was through the gift shop.

Next was the APOPO Visitor Center. APOPO is an organization that trains rats to detect landmines, and they’ve been working in Cambodia to help clear explosive remnants of war. Using specially trained “HeroRATS,” they speed up mine detection, making the process safer and more efficient. Given Cambodia’s history, with millions of landmines still in the ground, their work is crucial in making land safe for communities. It’s a smart, practical solution to a devastating problem.

One might think that rats are used because they are expendable compared to human workers, but that’s not the case. These aren’t the rats sometimes eaten here in Cambodia. They use African giant pouched rats imported from Tanzania. Though large for rats, they are lightweight compared to humans and devices, meaning they don’t trigger the mines. They also have an incredible sense of smell, allowing them to quickly identify explosives. They’re trainable, highly intelligent, and perfect for the job. Plus, they work faster than traditional metal detectors, helping clear land more efficiently. These are highly trained and valuable animals, and they are well cared for—the precious few that there are.

Oh, and they’re adorable and friendly too. I got to hold one after a demonstration of their methodical mine-searching process.

These rats save lives. These days, dozens of Cambodians are still killed every year from hidden landmines and unexploded ordnances, down from thousands a year in the 1990s. Half of those killed are children. And that’s just casualties. Many more are left injured and maimed. Many disabled Cambodians are victims of landmines. It’s a tragic reminder that wars continue to devastate long after both sides have laid down their arms, especially when indiscriminate tactics are employed.

Thank you, HeroRATs.

Finally, I visited the War Museum Cambodia. It’s on the outskirts of the city, down a red, dusty dirt road. It is not as well attended as the other museums I visited. I spent an hour there roaming around, entirely alone. What a place, though. Haunting.

The museum features a collection of tanks, helicopters, weapons, and artifacts from the Khmer Rouge era and beyond. It’s an open-air museum, and nothing is cared for. Everything is out in the open and untouched, rusting and rotting in the humid Cambodian heat. But it’s beautiful. To me, anyway. Surrounded by green wild grasses and fruit-filled trees, the decomposing machines dot the museum grounds like an abandoned battlefield they once wreaked havoc on.

And the textures. Those who know me know my love of textures, especially natural entropic ones. Unlike the lichen, moss, and algae-created textures of the temples, these machines are etched by rust and decomposing paint. The textures of the temples cling to objects of creation, and those of the War Museum Cambodia to objects of destruction. But both are beautiful. To me, anyway.

After the museums, I made my way back to the hotel, down a three-lane main thoroughfare, and then through less traveled side streets lined with the same small shanty markets and shops that cover the city. Kids played in the dirt, being kids.

I rested for a bit, went through some photos, washed off the day’s grime, and headed back downtown for dinner with Vinny, Charlie, and Amanda. More great Khmer food and hours of conversation. I’m gathering information.

Tomorrow is my last full day here in Siem Reap—for now. I’m going to head back out into the country to see Banteay Srei, which translates to “Citadel of Women.” It’s supposed to be a particularly intricately detailed temple, which some believe could only have been done by the hands of women due to their delicate detail. Um, okay.

It’s 25 kilometers outside of town (yes, I’m using the metric system. It’s not that scary.), so I probably won’t be able to make it on the bike. Amber may join me if she’s feeling better (she wasn’t feeling well enough to join us for dinner tonight), so a tuk-tuk would be necessary anyway.

Cheers, mates!Read more