Holiday in Cambodia
“Holiday in Cambodia?” That was the first question I was asked after ducking off of one of Phnom Penh’s busy streets into a day spa nestled within a manicured garden. The 80s political song “Holiday in Cambodia” by the Dead Kennedys immediately started to play in my head. I was thrown off guard for a second as the lyrics repeated themselves: It’s a holiday in Cambodia/Where people dress in black/A holiday in Cambodia/Where you’ll kiss ass or crack. I finally responded with a yes. I’m on holiday. I am on holiday in Cambodia.
When I first told my family and friends that I was going to Cambodia, they were surprised and concerned. “There are millions of landmines over there,” shouted my dad. He wasn’t exaggerating. In fact, it’s estimated that there are two to three million active landmines throughout Cambodia. On top of that, it didn’t help that the day after I announced my departure a two-page feature story about a malaria outbreak in southern Cambodia appeared in one of San Diego, California’s local newspapers, picked up from the Associated Press.
Alas, there I was perusing an elegant list of spa services while sipping green tea in a cool, dark-wood welcome area. After a relaxing spa pedicure complete with a reflexology foot massage and a paraffin treatment, the tuk tuk I hired for the day drove me to the waterfront. Lined with a mix of indoor and outdoor restaurants, bars and cafes, the waterfront is where you can find a lot of the capital’s entertainment, featuring the Pussycat Club on one corner and the Foreign Correspondents Club (FCC) on the other.
I met up with my friends on the second floor of a swank open-air café called Touk. We ordered a happy hour beer for 80 cents and leaned back into the deep, cushioned armchairs. A mix of locals, tourists and expats occupied the tables and bar stools facing the water. Some sipped glasses of wine while others indulged in the typical umbrella-clad cocktails. A cool breeze flowed in from the Tonle Sap River rustling the potted palms. The Pussycat Dolls were playing.
At that moment I realized the irony of traveling to Cambodia for pleasure has faded away for many people. I guess the only irony now is that thirty years later the Dead Kennedys’ ironic song title is now used to initiate small talk around the country.
