"It would've been a good school."

I first landed in PP in about March this year. I play football with a bunch of expats in Malaysia, and we'd arranged for a friendly against a bunch of expats in Cambodia. It was only a weekend thing, footy match, then an after match bar, and that was about it. I liked the vibe of the place- the people were friendly enough.

I didn't know anything about the history of the place. I sat up late on the computer researching it the night after I got back. As I was reading, I realised I'd noticed the disturbing lack of old people.
I remember the chills going down my spine.

If you're like me, and don't know what happened here within the last 35 years, then do some research. And then send an angry letter to your world history teacher.

This trip was going to be a little bit different.

I'd looked into visiting the Killing Fields. I wasn't too sure how I felt about it.

Both the Killing Fields and S-21 are now owned by a Japanese mob, and I'm not very sure about where the money goes. I think Cambodians have suffered enough without being robbed as well. I was pretty decided on not visiting either of the places.

I think it was boredom that got us in the end, and we found our way to S-21.

S-21 was a detention/interrogation centre where suspected traitors of the Khmer Rouge were house and inevitably executed. KR were very good at keeping records, so we can ascertain quite clearly that of the 20,000 inmates that entered, only 7 came out alive. All of the prisoners were photographed on entry, measured, weighed. The records are plastered all over the three main buildings that S-21 consists of.

Like many things in Asia, once you've passed the first few things, everything starts to repeat itself, and it gets a bit same-same. You start to gloss over.

I didn't want that. It didn't feel right to view the place without being shocked, traumatised even.

The whole place gave me chills.

S-21 was originally built as a school. The classrooms hastily and fairly crudely converted into some twisted asian version of Guantanamo Bay.

It still looks like a school. Just a non-descript set of white buildings. Creepily, there's still a set of varying height monkey bars in the yard.

Just like Drysdale Primary.

We walked back out the tuk-tuk, past the beggars and landmine victims. The legacy of the past still remains in Phnom Penh. The KR may have left, but the recovery isn't even close to complete.

We sat on the bike in silence and started our way back to the hostel.

"It would've been a good school," said Steve.

Once upon a time.

I began to think of the people who built it. The town planners, the teachers. The parents of the students.
A school is always a community within a community. Imagine how you would feel, the investment that you made into your community being used as a slaughter house?

The reality is that all of those teachers were either displaced or killed. Anyone with an education was seen as a threat to Communism.

Those parents, planners, and teachers lay silent in the graves of the Killing Fields.


It's not something that's easily put to words.

Friends, beaches, dodgey parachutes

The end of September saw a fantastic change in schedule for the Welsh household abroad, with a few visitors making the trip across the seas for a stay in the condo.

I think we managed to put Malaysia's best foot forward: between noisy markets, the open air seafood and stray cat awesomeness that is Nong and Jimmy's Thai BBQ, and probably the best nightspot in KL, the 57^th floor establishment of Merinis, we managed to encompass the opposite ends of the spectrums that we experience on a weekly basis.

Malaysia has a growing middle class, but it's still a country of extremes. It takes a while to get your head around the excess of Ferraris and Porches parked on one side of the road, and the construction site filled with Bangladeshi workers who make probably $200 per month on the other.

I maintain that you can see all of KL that you need to within three or four days. At a pinch, you could cram it into 48 hours without missing too much of the action, and only gain two inches to your waistband.

Anyhow.

We packed our visitors in the Volvo, and headed to Langkawi. Via the airport.

There we met Mr. Andre, the Dutch owner of Sunset Valley, where we were staying.

Mr. Andre was sailing around the world on his yacht with his wife when he pulled into port in Langkawi.

That was seven years ago, and he hasn't left since. Understandable, because he lives in one of the most beautiful tropical valleys I've had the pleasure of staying in. He rents out five or so restored traditional wooden Malay houses on his property, surrounded by rice paddies, green hills, and birds that don't seem to sleep.

The place was unreal. But next time, I'm bringing ear plugs.

Pantai Cenang is particularly nice at sunset. Sitting on the beach, have a refreshing non-specific drink while you watch the fat tourists go parasailing... it's awfully easy to get used to.

We stuck a sweet deal for parasailing ourselves, and for about $50AUD Jem, Josh P and myself went for a lovely glide over the bay.

Seeing all the other tourists fly up, out, around, and back onto dry land successfully, I figured I'd take the opportunity to take some shots from the air.

I tied the camera to my arm for safe keeping.

That worked pretty well.

The camera stayed tied to my arm on takeoff. I took some great sunset shots, I got a shot of some swimmers waaaay underneath me, and I took a fantastic vertically-held shot of the sky, the islands, the boat, and my feet, and when we dry the camera out, I might be able to confirm whether or not you could see the tow rope coiling up in the ocean as the boat ground to a halt, and I splashed down into the sea.

On the plus side, we were thinking about getting another camera anyway. And they gave me a second ride for free!

Langkawi finished up with a local market supplied dinner by the pool, with the sun setting over the valley. You can't get much better than that.

The next trip will be a little different. I'm going to Cambodia, and visiting Svay Pak, the home of sex slavery and people trafficking in Asia. I'm meeting the man who's trying to stop it. Should be interesting...