Best of Phnom Penh 2014

Best place to punch someone
Paddy’s Fight Club, #63 Street 294
There’s something soothingly therapeutic about assaulting a punching bag for as long as you can. The endorphins that accompany maximum physical output turn stress into bliss and pain into hot-and-sweaty pleasure. But bags don’t hit back, and a true challenge requires a live opponent. The old fight-master Paddy Carson lives in Siem Reap now, but his crew of young trainers are jovial and patient and happy to walk newcomers through the basics. They don’t mind getting punched, either, so go ahead and lace up the gloves, big guy, and give ‘em your best shot.

Best place to see a cage fight
Old Stadium
Mixed martial arts got a late start in Cambodia, but over the last couple of years the local sport has made big strides. Phnom Penh now holds weekly cage matches in two arenas. The best one is run by CTN on Sunday’s at the Old Stadium. The quality of fighting is superior to elsewhere, as are the production values and English-language announcing. Best of all, entrance is free, fighters and trainers are accessible, and beers outside are less than a buck.

Best coffee (Russian Market edition)
Blingbling Coffee & Wine
#16 Street 456
The secret of Blingbling is starting to get out. The small, independently owned restaurant opened a little more than a year ago with a modest kitchen and the city’s finest java from Feel Good coffee. Toul Tom Pong has long been a neighbourhood short on quality caffeine pushers. Blingbling is the long-awaited answer. The restaurant sources its beans from Feel Good, and its baristas were all trained by the finest coffee roasters in the capital. Like any good neighbourhood shop, Blingbling runs crazy specials, too. At the moment, a large, frothy, steamed-to-perfection caffe latte is just a buck.

Best Salted Caramel Ice Cream
Bubbles Tea & Ice Cream
#70 Street 113
The genius of salted caramel began like so many other flamboyant culinary concoctions — in the cultural traditions of provincial France (salty butter caramels are a native treat in Brittany). It found its stardom, however, in the hard-eating territories of the USA. San Francisco chocolatier Michael Recchiuti began selling fleur de sel caramels in 1998 (French fleur de sel is a hand-harvested sea salt collected off the coast of Brittany). A decade later the kickshaw was on menus everywhere from Starbucks to Taco Bell. Now it’s in Phnom Penh at Bubble’s, a cutesy American outpost that specialises in artisanal teas and small-batch ice cream. Bubbles-style salted caramel is a 5-layer stack of homemade vanilla ice cream and salted caramel sauce spooned into a black sesame waffle cone, with the top layer a volcano of caramel that comes spilling over the edges. It’s sticky, finger-licking goodness down to the last, crunchy bite.

Best restaurant to mend a broken heart
L’Orchidee, #82 Street 454
Many a night in this garden restaurant we’ve sat watching couples, groups of friends and families move in and out of its burgundy walls, us at our usual table, drowning our loneliness in Bier Picon only to find out later that lonely can swim. There’s something about this place that’s the purest form of café culture: the food comes when the food comes, drinks come faster and any cracks in the soul are filled in the end with chocolate mousse and the good company of the owner. The staff has stayed pretty constant over the years, as have the regulars; a good mix of Westerners and Khmer seeking an accessible classiness.

Best truck-stop food
Alley Cat Café, #42 Street 19z
Dallas and the folk at Alley Cat are like something you would find between Tucson and Tucumcari, and between Tehachapi and Tonapah. Alley Cat even sits hidden on the back roads for that matter; we come for the Navajo Fry Bread and stay for the bacon. Plus you get left the hell alone or you can chat if you want; just don’t be an ass about it. Another selling point is that the food is industrial-grade hangover hazmat.

Best quaint queer quarter
Space Hair, #66 Street 136
Space Hair is a salon-slash-hangout, for queer bois and gurrls with flashy hair, which serves a mean cocktail. The staff are fun and outgoing and, for the long and complicatedly quaffed, Space Hair won’t break your budget. Fancy getting a bit tipsy, playing with some Paris Hilton knock-off pups and dying your hair lime green? Go for it! There’s no shame in getting friendly and funky. On some Friday and Saturday nights here, you may find some of the fierce sisters who work the stage at Rainbow Bar getting their bad selves sorted.

Best headmistress of a man crèche
Nith Pochsok at The Red Fox, Street 136 & Sisowath Quay
Nith Pochsok, the long-standing barwoman at The Red Fox, and her staff have kept more than a few people from going completely nutso. Witty and fierce, these are ladies who can both bullshit and call-out bullshit with the best of them. Nith, along with the other interesting and well educated ladies down at The Red Fox, run a tight ship. They have to! They have one of the hardest jobs in town, but also some of the most loyal patrons. Nith and her crew are why The Red Fox is known the world over as a soft spot for hard-living folk to land on.

Best bathroom art
Sesame Noodle House, #9 Street 460
Reference Wolverine + This American Life and, well, there’s simply not much else to say. For ageing millennials like us, this loo experience combines pristine cleanliness, a tinge of nostalgia for road trips past and, well, Wolverine. The whole experience of Sesame is quite charming; action figures on the bar, very good Austin-style music, noodle bowls that sort of got our nearly 80-year-old grandfather to dig tofu. And Keiko, the owner, is pure concentrated AWESOME. Her husband looks like Wolverine’s thinner, more urbane younger brother and is not to be messed with: he runs the Cross-Fit Box in the hood. You have been warned.

Best gay uncles
Jose and Mark @ Feel Good Café, #79 Street 136
In order for the human species to thrive, we need the ‘gay uncles’ of the world to make it more bearable. Whether it’s brewing that outstanding cup of coffee, bringing a plate of ribs or just waving hello as you roll up Street 136, Jose and Mark are simply the best gay uncles this city could ask for. These two inject more than a breath of fresh air into the humidity of the city; Mark and Jose have become a part of the heart and soul of 136, always bringing life, compassion, coffee and a sense of possibility. Wepa!

Best ice-cream for under a buck
The Snacker, Russian Market
1000 riel-a-scoop, dairy-free coconut ice cream that’s as addictive as anything; the passion fruit and green tea are particular favourites of ours after fighting traffic (clears the exhaust off the pallet real quick). And the entertainment provided by tourist cliques coming in and out of Russian Market and folk who can’t find their keys and need either a locksmith or a locksmith with a hammer simply can’t be beat. Just a little corner stand in teal and yellow, with cold water and sometimes, if you’re super lucky, pumpkin pie.

Best place to escape the city
for 500 Riel
Ferry to the Mekong side (the journey begins at the jetty near NagaWorld)
Grab a ferry for 500 Riel and an (optional) bottle of cold water for the same. Where else can you live your Colonel Kurtz upriver Mekong fantasies for 25 cents (or less)? This is by far Phnom Penh’s cheapest – and easiest – nautical escape route. What do you do once you get there? Who cares?! By the time your 20-minute ride is over (excluding time-warping-camouflage-face-painted hallucinations), you’ll be a different human being anyway and all plans will be off. No, really. See you on the other side.

Best place to be reminded you’re a man
Tokyo Barbershop (aka Man-Centric) #22a Street 278
Seeing a man having his ear hair plucked while sprawled out fully conscious on a barber chair can be slightly jarring. It just takes one smile from the lovely Tokyo Barbershop female crew and all your inhibitions will disappear faster than you can say ‘no more questioning my manhood’. Yup, you have arrived! Man-Centric – aka Tokyo Barbershop – offers man-chilling in a man-salon at prices that won’t break your (questionable) man-sized wallet. They also get huge points for an awesome Mad Men-esque logo that makes this place easy to spot. Haircut-pedi-mani-massage-pamper-repeat. Fed grapes optional.

Best place to feel like you’re shopping in East Germany
Pencil Supercentre, #15 Street 214
Even your most historically challenged backpacker can name at least one of Cambodia’s former communist allies. But can that same backpacker lead yo u to where time stood still in aisle 3? One-part department store, two-parts grocery store, all-parts Dresden 1986: Pencil, the only Phnom Penh shopping experience that can take your children’s sugar-loaded breakfast cereal and make it feel colourless and proletariat (in a good way). Consistently friendly staff (none named Dagmar) and a large, very reasonably priced wine selection that was clearly chucked over the wall before Hasselhoff ruined it for everyone. You’ll leave wishing you had a mullet and a Trabant.

Best foreign food for a
fiver on a Friday
Cadillac Bar and Grill,
#219 Sisowath Quay
Wander down the riverside on a Friday and you’ll soon be repeating a series of zombie-like rejections (mostly to yourself): No, thank you; not today; I just bought one; that’s not really your baby; my guide book says not to give you anything. Then it shouts at you. Hand drawn in crayon and stuck to a sidewalk sign: $5 all food all day. You wait for someone to tell you it’s Thursday. Fortunately that foolish thought passes and you’re inside this comfortable casa ordering a 10-buck plate of American goodness for a fiver. Cadillac was here before Rolls. Enjoy the ride!

Best disco to take you to Reno
without leaving Cambodia
Darlin Darlin @ NagaWorld,
Hun Sen Park
You’re in your Friday best, fists overflowing with chips. You work your way through the casino lobby then suddenly she hits you: Beyoncé. But where is she? You make rapid hand gestures to a girl in uniform: first word, second syllable, sounds like ‘Darlin Darlin’. You thank her for the compliment but fear she might just like you for the handsome ransom you took from the tables. You say ‘Reno’, she says ‘I know’ and the next thing you know you’re in a house band pumpin’ gamblin’ junket lovin’ happy place. Darlin Darlin. Yes, there’s an echo in here and it sounds like disco party bliss. Hit me baby one more time!

Best place to party like it’s 1999 (OK, maybe even sometime before that)
Vito, #8 Street 214
Vito took its inspiration (but not its Don Corleone name) from the realisation that not everyone wants to go down the street to Nova and watch really hammered 20-somethings chug hard booze and dance to music that needs a lot of hard booze. Alas! Vito was born. With the DJ busting out his best (older) Euro beats for the crowd of mostly (older) Euro expat elites, your inner Godfather will be curiously searching for the corner table that says ‘Reserved for Vito’ – that is, until you’re interrupted by Abba and your dancing shoes will be strapped on till dawn.

Best live music venue
1st: Slur Bar
If you’ve yet to seize your 15 minutes of fame, here might just be the place to do it. A steady stream of international talent has been rolling across the Slur stage since this French-owned, Peap Tarr-painted sports-and-tapas-bar-cum-platform-for-bristling-musical-talent first opened its doors. In the almost two years since,it has hosted everyone from the cream of the local punk scene to London dancehall legend Tippa Irie (a certain distinguished editor even rode her motorcycle right up to the stage once). Aiiiiiigghht!
2nd: Equinox
3rd: Doors

Best band
1st: Cambodian Space Project
The Cambodian Space Project is coming off an enormous 12-month period. The run began in Detroit, US, where Kak Channthy and Julien Poulson, the band’s two founding members, hooked up with Motown guitar legend Dennis Coffey, who not only dug the band’s spaced-out sound but wanted to record and produce the duo, too. The result of that collaboration was Whiskey Cambodia, CSP’s third full-length album and by far its richest work to date. In Motown tradition, the band has also added dancers, The Spacettes, to their stage show. In September the band released its first 12” vinyl LP, Radio Cambodia, and just last month the group debuted its self-produced musical, Hanuman Spaceman, at the Kampot Traditional Arts School. It’s been an ultra-productive year, and it’s no surprise they get the nod.
2nd: Dub Addiction
3rd: Songkites

Best band name
1st: Cambodian Space Project
No one embodies this year’s Best Of Phnom Penh theme – ready for take-off – more than psychedelic surf rockers The Cambodian Space Project. Runners up in both band categories last year, CSP just capped an incredible 12-month run (see Best Band) with perhaps its most ambitious project to date, Hanuman Spaceman, a rock opera loosely built around the life story of lead singer Kak Channthy, and which literally pushes the aeronautical metaphors to interstellar distances. Let the monkey madness continue, we say.
2nd: Dub Addiction
3rd: Songkites

Best musician
1st: Philippe Javelle
A multi-instrumentalist, Phillippe Javelle was long known as the keyboarding half of the jazz duo Ritchie & Phil, a free-wheeling musical pair that stomped through the city’s music venues both high and low. In 2010 Javelle helped establish the capital’s first legitimate jazz room, the now-defunct Studio 182, and in the ensuing years he has continued to innovate around the high end of the capital’s music scene. A graduate of the Paris School of Music, Javelle’s Number One is keyboard, but he plays sax, accordion and numerous other instruments, and over the years he has become a fixture of the local music scene. He appears regularly and Doors, D-Club, Sofitel and Riverhouse.
2nd: Nikki Nikki &Conrad Keely (tie)
3rd: Euan Gray

Best open mic
1st: Equinox
Perhaps it’s the killer sound system, keenly watched over by veteran sound guru Anthony Mrugacz – the part-Texan/part-Polish proprietor who, if you’re really lucky (and so inclined), can occasionally be spotted draped over one of the upstairs sofas, near shirtless, enjoying a well-earned siesta. Perhaps it’s the never-less-than-epic line-up of Phnom Penh-based minstrels, including Conrad Keely, front man for the much revered US hard rock outfit And You Shall Know Us By The Trail Dead, and Sophie Rose, the city’s most rousing Irish songstress. Towering above them all, Andre Swart, a gentle South African giant, acts as a musical Sherpa second to none.
2nd: Show Box
3rd: Sharky Bar

Best DJ
1st: Illest
No one in Cambodia’s nascent hip-hop scene has done more for longer than hometown pioneer DJ Illest, (who has somehow managed to keep his real name out of the press for going on two decades now). In 1995 the self-taught turntablist hand-carried more than 200 kilos of vinyl with him on a flight back from Paris. He built a regular following at Riverhouse and Pontoon when the later was genuinely a floating dance floor bobbing in the river. He is now the resident deejay and main attraction at the city’s most popular night club (see Best Club), and his influence continues to reverberate in new venues like D Club and Epic.
2nd: Funkelastiks&Alan Ritchie (tie)
3rd: DSN

Best artist
1st: Kosal Khiev
Known primarily for his powerful spoken-word performances, Kosal Kiev has recently begun to emerge as a visual artist as well. His illustration style is drenched in the pen-and-ink discipline of convict artists and the human canvases with which they so often work. His story is well told: born in a Thai refugee camp, Kosal grew up fatherless in a California ghetto, where he nearly drowned in poverty, gangs and violence; he was deported to Cambodia in 2011 after serving 15 years for attempted murder. Kosal has long since righted the misdirected ways of his youth (he was 16 when he was arrested), and poetry and performance art, which he discovered in solitary confinement, have proven his saving grace. Since landing in Phnom Penh, Kosal has struggled, often openly, with adjusting to his new home and his own human frailty. But he has also soared, igniting a burgeoning spoken-word scene, winning numerous spoken-word awards, and earning a spot to represent the Kingdom in international poetry events. A flawed yet deeply genuine character, Kosal is the underdog everyone loves to root for. And root for him we do.
2nd: Em Riem
3rd: Peap Tarr

Best arts space
1st: Meta House
Ever a mecca for the city’s intelligentsia, Meta House – the capital’s long-serving German epicentre of the arts – successfully straddles spaces elegant enough to hos ta Handel recital, rock ‘n’ roll enough to accommodate visiting noise artistes, and conscientious enough to stage some of the fiercest debates in town (witness the round-table following the last round of convictions in the Khmer Rouge tribunal). Come here for the sensory stimulation, stay for awesome German grub – from bulging bratwurst to the spectacularly filling flame cake.Artistic endeavours, of every hue, await your attention on almost every available surface.
2nd: Java Café
3rd: Sasa Bassac

Best movie house
1st: Major Cineplex
It was a 4D film – my first – about a tornado. You know the sort. Lots of special effects, almost no script to speak of. Except the chairs moved. Not so much moved as shook, shuddered and wobbled as though Hell itself were about to come bursting through the floor. Then there were the blasts of icy air that hit you right between the eyes. And…is that really the smell of coffee being piped into the stalls?! All that was missing was someone standing in the aisles, lobbing ice cubes into the audience during the hail storm. Encore!
2nd: The Flicks
3rd: The Empire

Best Book Store
1st: Monument Books
The capital’s oldest book store is also its best. Founded in 1993, Monument Books does something that virtually no other bookstore does: sells authentic new books. It also houses the world’s most comprehensive library of Cambodia-related titles, offers the country’s greatest collection of periodicals, and, with print-on-demand, provides access to more than 1,000 newspaper titles from around the world, too. Tack on the strong coffee and plush Blue Pumpkin loungers, the chilly air-conditioning and toy store upstairs, and there’s simply no better place to shop for new reading materials. Best of all: the goods are all genuine, so you can shop with a clean conscience. Because writers need love (and money), too.
2nd: D’s Books
3rd: Bohr’s Books

Best Hotel
1st: Raffles Hotel Le Royal
Nothing quite speaks to King Father Norodom Sihanouk’s pre-war halcyon days like the soaring French architecture of Hotel Le Royal, with its magnificent ochre exteriors, vast stairways, grand ballrooms and elegant dining halls, not to mention delectable cuisine. Built in the early 19th century, the hotel opened in 1929 and almost immediately captured the attention of the world’s high society. The hotel’s guest list includes such 19th century heavyweights as Somerset Maughan, Charlie Chaplin, Andre Malraux and Jacqueline Kennedy, who visited in 1967 and whose legend inspired the hotel’s signature cocktail, the Femme Fatale.
2nd: The Plantation
3rd: Himawari

Best Gym
1st: The Place
Cavernous work-out rooms. Air chilled effortlessly to sweatless, erect-nippled perfection.The finest high-tech fitness equipment that money can buy. And only the most beautiful of bodies on display. And that’s without mentioning the ‘mini-Olympic-sized’ pool. Yoga, karate, a spinning studio. Sign up. Immediately. Your body WILL thank you.
2nd: Fitness One Club, Himawari
3rd: Physique Club, Cambodiana

Best Spa
1st: Bodia Spa
Words such as ‘sanctuary’, ‘cocoon’, and ‘pampering’. Tut tut. Indulgence is the order of the day here – and don’t you DARE feel the need to apologise. Bodia tonic? Apsara indulgence four-hands massage? Natural jasmine rice wrap? Fruity vitamin facial? Bodia is something of an oasis on the city’s rough and ready Riverside: dip your toe in the jacuzzi while staff shower you with petals (really). Praise be!
2nd: U & Me
3rd: Bliss Spa

Best place to take your kids
1st: Kids City
Kids City has revolutionised life for Phnom Penh kids (and lots of parents, too) since opening in June last year. Nowhere packs more fun and educational activities into one place. Two floors of massive indoor jungle gyms cater to toddlers and young children. A science gallery and discovery centre provide hands-on educational learning. Ice skating, rock-climbing and laser tag all make for exciting physical challenges. There’s a Gloria Jeans serving caffeine and Blue Pumpkin for eats and treats. It’s squeaky clean, air-conditioned and the wifi is good, too. But if you have kids, you already know that. If you don’t, you should make friends with some parents pronto. There’s simply no age limit to having fun.
2nd: Le Jardin
3rd: Gasolina

Best place to watch the sun set
1st: The FCC
Once the preserve of the cream of the international press corps, it’s one of the city’s most cherished relics of the colonial era. Lofty eaves harbour the whispered echoes of wartime exchanges between correspondents; the urgent reporting into bulky plastic telephone receivers back to bun-haired copytakers on the far side of the ocean. The history is impressive. The unparalleled views of the swirling waters of the Tonle Sap even more so.
2nd: Eclipse
3rd: Le Moon

Best sky bar
1st: Eclipse
The Eclipse Sky Bar and its growing coterie of uptown contemporaries highlight an ascending level of quality to which a new generation of Phnom Penhoisie are growing accustomed. Eclipse sits on top of the 23-storey Phnom Penh Tower, and it’s the kind of place that makes you feel like you could be anywhere in the world. Starched white table cloths, heavy silver, high-end wine glassware; no detail has been overlooked. And its open-air, panoramic views of the capital are simply unparalleled.
2nd: Le Moon
3rd: Kolab Sor

Best nightclub
1st: Pontoon
Still the daddy after all these years, Pontoon has sailed a long way since its nascent days as a humble mooring at the slightly more suspect end of Riverside. Graced by names as monumental as Grandmaster Flash, Leeroy Thornhill and too many World DMC champs to list in 200 characters or less, Pontoon reigns supreme – be it decadent drag shows orpulsating hip hop, locally known and loved faces (Illest!) or international headliners.
2nd: Code Red
3rd: Nova

Best dance floor
1st: Pontoon Pulse
Fancy yourself part of the after-dark fringe element? If the main dance floor is just too bourgeoisie, darling, err on the more intimate side, where you can peek at international DJs from between beaded curtains or strut your stuff on the dancefloor just inches from the finest DJs in the city. Think boudoir, but with a dash of badass on the side. Be here. Be seen. Be SOMEONE.
2nd: Code Red
3rd: Heart of Darkness

Best tattoo artist
1st: Charlie at Black Star & Dr Ink at Atka Tattoo (tie)
No longer are fierce Khmer warriors and the most devout of Buddhist monks the only ink-stained flesh in the kingdom. Over the past few years, the calibre of tattoo artists in town has crept steadily skyward. Mystic etchings; meaningful mutterings in Khmer script; hell, the word ‘mother’ on one bicep if you really must. Etch your heart out, you rebel, you.
2nd: Sun Kang at Black Star
3rd: Nico at RSD 2

Best supermarket
1st: Aeon
Could it be the wide, boulevard-like aisles containing everything you ever missed from home and more? Perhaps the surgical sterility of everything on display, from oh-so-shiny fruit and veg to that thing you thought you’d have to live without until the next time Aunt Joan flies in from London for a weekend of ‘roughing it’.For us, it was the tiny air plants suspended in otherwise vacant sea shells.Dream it. They’ve got it. And yes, it tastes just like the one from home.
2nd: Thai Huot
3rd: Lucky

Best clothing store
1st: Russian Market
To borrow lovingly from the government’s own tourism website, which articulates it almost perfectly,‘This market became the foreigner’s market during the 1980s when most of the foreigners in Cambodia were Russians, hence the name ‘Russian Market.’ It is of far less architectural interest than the Central Market but has a larger, more varied selection of souvenirs, curios and silks. Like the Central Market, there are several jewellers and gold-sellers, but it also carries huge selection of curios, silks and carvings, it is one of the best markets in town to buy fabric.’ We second that.
2nd: Esquisse & The Close-Out Factory
Outlet (tie)

Best wine shop
1st: Red Apron
The final word in sophistication, Red Apron is perhaps one of Phnom Penh’s best-kept secrets. Popular with the über-elite, this ultra-modern urban lounge occupies a vast split-level space in the very heart of the capital’s arts district, just a stone’s throw from the Royal Palace. Plush white leather sofas and claret-red velvet chairs nestle between beautifully exposed brickwork and polished hardwood and tiled floors, creating the ultimate oasis in which to escape the frenetic pace of the city. Soft lighting and crisp white walls lend a certain minimalist allure to this first-class evening retreat.
2nd: Super Cheap
3rd: Winehall

Best restaurant
1st: Common Tiger
A tiger it may be; common it most certainly is not. ‘Contemporary world cuisine’ is the mantra; ultra-chic minimalism is the modus operandi. Here, classical meets modern; local produce assumes pole position.Dine indoors. Dine outdoors. Drool over the impossibly sexy café racers that occupy discretely lit corners. Curious to know what makes the restaurant tick? Peruse their online ‘culinary mind map’, which demonstrates exactly how a dish is crafted for Common Tiger. And the ribs? Oh, the ribs… *salivate*
2nd: Public House
3rd: Armand’s

Best brunch
1st: La Coupole at Sofitel
One of the ultimate foodie feasts in Phnom Penh is the indulgent Sunday champagne brunch at the Sofitel, when La Coupole restaurant fills with diners in the mood for decadence.Where to begin? Their sushi is spectacular, displayed in a large wooden boat overflowing with the freshest sushi and sashimi. Next door is a dedicated oyster station, where French Fine de Claires Oysters are served freshly shucked, with condiments. The cold seafood range features freshly cooked crab, langoustines, prawns and mussels. Platters galore of the tastiest, finest, cured and smoked salmon, trout and kingfish. The smoked Kampot pepper kingfish is magnificent, translucently thin, lightly smoked and edged with pepper. Finishing off this section is the boulangerie, an impressive variety of bread sticks and rolls, cut fresh and warmed in their oven on request.
2nd: Public House
3rd: Metro

Best burger
1st: Mike’s Burger House
Mike’s Burger House, the American fast-food joint tucked into the backside of a Sokimex gas station, is the kind of place to make homesick Yankees swoon. Mike returned to Cambodia after 30 years in California and he first began making burgers to please his new wife, who had developed a crush on the beef-and-bun favourites during a US vacation. Mike makes them the traditional American way: big fluffy buns, fresh tomato, crunchy iceberg lettuce, seared beef patty with a thin, charred outer layer and a soft, juicy centre. It’s the kind of burger you expect to find at some back-road mom-and-pop place along Route 66, a throwback to the era of drive-ins, V8 muscle cars and the great American road trip.
2nd: Meat & Drink
3rd: Java Café

Best pizza
1st: Piccola Italia Da Luigi Pizzeria
Piccolo Italia Da Luigi presents something of a cultural abnormality: a very South Italian and somewhat noisy pizza joint located in a quiet back-alley Phnom Penh neighbourhood, turning out excellent pizzas and antipasti with a side order of hand gesticulations. Pizza is the true backbone of the operation. There are 25 more than different kinds at last count, including a classic cheese-less marinara with tomato sauce, garlic and oregano, all the way up to a rather artistic Montanara with mozzarella, cream, bacon, onion, emmenthal cheese, walnuts, potatoes and salami.All pizzas come in one size: big enough to feed at least four nice normal people and at least two hollow-legged expats in a wine-drinking mood. This is definitely the thin-crust-and-blackened-on-the-bottom pizza of Italy.
2nd: Katy Peri
3rd: Limoncello Pizzeria

Best Indian
1st: Sher-e-Punjab
Perhaps owing to a relationship that stretches over millennia, Phnom Penh is abundantly supplied with outstanding Indian food. Sher-e-Punjab is among the oldest and what it lacks in décor or dazzling ambience, it more than makes up for with consistently excellent north Indian cuisine. Like any authentic home-style Indian place, the menu is a massive 200-plus dish affair, with all the standards and dozens of not-so-standard dishes and unique interpretations of old family recipes. Other places may have fancier pictures on the wall, or shinier silver serving plates, but no place does Indian better.
2nd: Mount Everest
3rd: Taste Budz

Best Mexican
1st: Taqueria Corona
The history of Mexican restaurants in Phnom Penh is a halting, discordant affair. It began in the mid-‘90s with The Mex: a small, Cuban-inspired shop-house at Independence Monument that cobbled together ingredients from Lucky Supermarket and served them rolled in store-bought tortillas. About the only decent dish was the breakfast burrito. Everything else was underwhelming at best. These days, the capital boasts half a dozen specialty Mexican restaurants, and Taqueria Corona, run by a passionate restaurateur from California, consistently rates at the pinnacle of an impressively delicious mix. It’s tops for all the right reasons, too. The menu is diverse, with tacos, burritos, enchiladas, tortas (Mexican sandwiches) and five styles of meat (and 10 kinds of tequila!). The food literally arrives in minutes. The meals are big enough to choke a starving ranchero. The tortillas are ever-so-slightly on the thick side (the way they should be). The tacos are smothered with cheese and sour cream. And the flavours are straight out of the Southern California barrios.
2nd: Alma Café
3rd: Viva Mexican Café

Best vegetarian
1st: Artillery Café
Reminiscent of Platform 9¾ at King’s Cross Station in the Harry Potter novels, Street 240½ has something of the preternatural about it. This winding passageway in the heart of the arts district is now home to ARTillery, a creative hub for artistic souls. ARTillery is a rare fusion of art gallery and organic cafe. The cafe serves raw and organic foods, plus artisan coffees and a healthy dose of art.
2nd: Duplex
3rd: Vego Salad Bar

Best French
1st: Topaz
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a Francophile in possession of a good appetite, must be in want of fine French dining.So it is that Topaz tops the list of go-to dining options for the city’s ex-Parisian population. Think the hautest of haute French culinary creativity with a Southeast Asian twist, extraordinary gourmet succulence with unforgettable flavours and textures.A staple among the elite since 1997, it has maintained its ever-elegant dominion ever since. Beef is imported from the US and Australia’s Cape Grim; fin de Claire oysters and bouchot mussels come from France; the salmon isof Norwegian origin and the Sturia caviar, only the finest, hails from the Gironde.
2nd: Armand’s
3rd: La Residence

Best Japanese
1st: Sushi Bar
The pioneer of affordable sushi and a few other Japanese tidbits besides, since opening 18 or so months ago the Sushi Bar has filled a much needed space in the Phnom Penh culinary market. Since then it has retained its reliable status as the ‘go to place’ for that monthly fill of sushi, karaage and all things in between. And do not forget those mega-sized cans of Sapporo.
2nd: Fuji Restaurant
3rd: Yakitori Jidaiya

Best Khmer
1st: Malis
Only the finest Khmer dishes are allowed to grace the tables at Malis, which prides itself on pushing the boundaries of fusion food with traditional, original and new-age Cambodian cuisine. Its kitchen is home to Luu Meng, Cambodia’s only masterchef, whose artfully prepared dishes have graced tables around the world.The restaurant even has a philosophy: ‘Malis food is about the land and its people stretching back into the rites and traditions of a bygone age.’
2nd: Romdeng
3rd: Khmer Surin

Best coffee
1st: Brown Coffee
The interiors at Brown are just a little less contrived, the furniture a little more comfortable, than most other coffee shops in town, which makes Brown the perfect place to order a hot cup of caffeine and fritter your idle hours away surfing Facebook and catching up on the latest daytime fashions of the Phnom Penhois. The smoothies are rich and creamy, the chocolate brownies moist and rich and the cookies not too sweet. What’s more, Brown is Cambodian owned – no soul-crushing overseas multinationals here – which makes handing over your greenbacks just a little more easy.
2nd: Feel Good
3rd: Joma

Best local beer
1st: Cambodia
Frank Zappa once said: “You can’t be a real country unless you have a beer and an airline – it helps if you have some kind of a football team, or some nuclear weapons, but at the very least you need a beer.” According to the Khmer Brewery web page, “It all began with a dream: a dream to create the best beer in Cambodia.” With all votes counted it would seem that their dream has been realised – for the second year running. Cheers!
2nd: Apsara Gold, Himawari Microbrewery
3rd: Cerevisia

Best place for a sugar fix
1st: The Chocolate Shop
Once a tiny chocolaterie, The Chocolate Shop on Street 240 underwent substantial remodelling earlier this year and it now does more than just to-die-for chocolates. It’s the de facto air-conditioned dining room of its sister property The Shop, which serves a short but focused list of positively healthy (and fabulously inexpensive) salads and midday plates. Which makes it criminal to skip the good stuff. Chocolate is sold by the gram and comes in a dozen varieties: in truffles, brownies, coffee and ice cream; with almonds, mixed nuts, dried fruits or Kampot pepper; in bite-sized marbles, shareable bars and half-kilo, coma-inducing statuettes. Choose your elixir.
2nd: Khema
3rd: Bloom Cakes

Best bar
1st: Bar Sito
In the span of a few short years, the style of Phnom Penh nightlife stepped out, turning from seedy and unimaginative beer bars to daring attempts at big-city sophistication. Bar Sito, if not the first, was certainly the boldest. With its inspired woodwork, dark corners and semi-private card chamber, the room in full would impress anywhere. The place feels like a roaring 1920s speakeasy in Al Capone’s Chicago, and you half expect to spot a table of wiseguys playing pinochle and planning airport heists. Outside there are no signs. The place is anonymous save for a slat peephole in the door. It’s shadowy and intimate by design. And when the cocktails are heavy and the klatch grows thick, there’s no better place to plot a capper.
2nd: Bouchon
3rd: Sharky Bar

Best happy hour
1st: Elephant Bar, Le Royal
Happy Hour at the Elephant Bar has been and likely always will be the best happy hour ever to grace Phnom Penh. No other place has the class. No other place has the history. And no other place in town mixes drinks as magically or as potently as the servers tending at the Elephant. Cocktails are strong but never too strong; the spirit portion always an expertly poured smidge past perfect. The liquor bites, but without overpowering other flavours. Happy hour generously runs from 4pm to 9pm, when cocktails, beers and spirits (single malts included) are half off. Normal prices at Le Royal are premium. Most cocktails are $12 or so. But the booze is always top shelf, as is everything at Le Royal. And after a glass or two, nothings seems as bourgeois as obsessing over the cheque. Enjoy the luxury. You deserve it.
2nd: The FCC
3rd: Show Box

Best cocktail
1st: Femme fatale @ Elephant Bar, Raffles
Jackie Kennedy visited Phnom Penh in 1967 and stayed at the Le Royal. The hotel created a cocktail, the Femme Fatale, in her honour. If wild strawberries are divine, cocktails made from wild-strawberry liquor, cognac and champagne are nothing short of heavenly. If it sounds like hyperbole, it’s not.
2nd: Chocolate martini @ Bouchon
3rd: Caramel apple martini @ The Exchange

Of myths & legends

Tales of the extraordinary take centre stage at this year’s international music festival, at a time when humanity is on the cusp of being consumed by global turmoil and tension. Says director Anton Isselhardt: “Myths and legends tell us a lot about former societies and their spiritual conceptions, beliefs and even fantasies. They are binding tools to learn about our past and they foster a better understanding of the current situation. Some myths and legends also include hidden elements or traces with a certain transcultural character. They demonstrate clearly that behind all fascinating diversity, there is always something in common between us. Music is an ideal medium for turning concrete legends and myths into a more abstract aura, which may then enlighten one’s individual fantasy. In other words, music based on myths and legends enables us to create our own stories in our own minds. This may lead to quite new artistic experiences.”

Here’s Anton’s guide to what not to miss:

7PM NOVEMBER 13 @ INTERCONTINENTAL HOTEL, MAO TSE TUNG BLVD: GALA OPENING

Robert Schumann: Fantasy Piece No. 1
“This title promotes a fundamental romantic ideal; the creative expression which arises from Robert Schumann’s unrestricted imagination. Characteristic of this are the sudden emotional changes, a signature of so much of Schumann’s music and which reflect his emotions and mood swings.”

Leoš Janáček: Pohadka
“Pohádka, which means ‘fairytale’ in Czech, is inspired by the poem The Tale of Czar Bendvei, which is itself a modern poetic adaptation of old heroic tales.”

Max Bruch: Kol Nidrei
“Jewish mysticism is devoted to all aspects of Jewish esoteric traditions. Bruch’s composition is based on chanted prayers in the synagogue symbolising the purification of emotions – catharsis – on New Year’s Day.”

Gabriel Fauré: Sicilienne
“Faure was the first prominent composer to write music inspired by Pelléas And Mélisande, a drama by Belgian author Maurice Maeterlinck, based on the familiar narrative of forbidden love and reminiscent of the myths of Tristan and Isolde. The third movement of Faure’s orchestral suite is widely considered ‘the one moment of happiness’ shared by Pelléas and Mélisande.”

Sergei Prokofiev: Cello Sonata C-major
“Premiered on March 1950 in the Moscow Conservatory, with Mstislav Rostropovich as soloist and Sviatoslav Richter at the piano, this sonata is a masterpiece; a landmark in the cello and piano repertory.”
Artists: Stephanie Waegener (cello), Bakhtiyor Allaberganov (piano)

7PM NOVEMBER 14 @ META HOUSE, #37 SOTHEAROS BLVD: ARIE ANTICHE

Giulio Caccini: Euridice
“Caccini was one of the lesser-known founders of opera, but one of the most influential creators of the new Baroque style. During this time he also took part in the movement of humanists, writers, musicians and scholars who formed the Florentine Camerata, a group which gathered at the home of Count Giovanni de’Bardi and was dedicated to recovering the lost glory of ancient Greek drama.”

Claudio Monteverdi: The Coronation Of Poppea
“The last and most innovative opera by Monteverdi is one of the first operas to use historical events and people. It describes how Poppea, mistress of Roman Emperor Nero, is able to achieve her ambition and be crowned empress: one example of how historical events can become mythologised over time.”

George Frederick Handel: Rinaldo
Christof Willibald Gluck: Paris And Helena
“Handel and Gluck developed the court opera throughout Europe in the 17th and 18th centuries. In addition, the reform of opera by Gluck paved the way for the composers of the Vienna Classic, such as Mozart, Salieri and Haydn.”
Artists: Mari Jinnai (soprano), Ai Iwasaki (mezzo soprano), Loo Bang Hean (piano)

6PM NOVEMBER 15 @ ST JOSEPH’S CHAPEL, #1782B NATIONAL ROAD 5: GREGORIAN CHANT

Musicologists Dott Alberto Firincielli and Dr Sam Sam-Ang introduce an evening of Gregorian chant, including O Ignee Spiritus, by Hidedgard von Bingen, and Ave Maria.
“Gregorian chant had its beginnings in the early centuries of the Church, becoming fully developed around the 8th and 9th centuries in western and central Europe. Chants were learned first as an oral tradition, in which texts and melodies were sung from memory. An ongoing tradition in Southeast Asia is the Cambodian Buddhist chanting style Smot.”
Artists: Gregorian Chant Choir (Assumption University Bangkok), with conductor Alberto Firrincieli

11AM NOVEMBER 16 @ META HOUSE: PIANO RECITAL

Sergei Prokofjew: Romeo and Juliet Op.7
“Prokofjew was inspired by Shakespeare’s Romeo And Juliet (based on Pyramus and Thisbe from ancient Greek mythology).
Richard Wagner/Franz Liszt: Elsa’s Dream
“Elsa’s Dream has the air of a religious epiphany. Wagner traced the myth of Zeus and Semele, Eros and Psyche, Elsa and Lohengrin, Tristan and Isolde, but all, Wagner insists, stand for the same eternal story: the necessity of love. Wagner declared them to be ‘no mere outcome of Christian meditation, but one of man’s earliest poetic ideals’.”
Claude Debussy: Ondine
“As Debussy stated: ‘Music is a free art gushing forth, an open- air art, boundless as the elements, the wind, the sky, the sea.’Ondine, a mythological figure of European tradition, is a water nymph who becomes human when she falls in love with a man, but is doomed to die if he is unfaithful to her.”

Peter Tchaikovsky: The Sleeping Beauty
“Tchaikovsky was inspired by The Sleeping Beauty, by the French writer Charles Perrault from 1690, based on the Nordic saga Volsunga.Based on the tradition of the piano masters of the Russian School, Mikhail Pletnev’s piano transcription of The Sleeping Beauty recreates the colour and drama of Tchaikovsky’s orchestral score, within the context of a virtuoso piano solo.”
Artist: Loo Bang Hean (piano)

7PM NOVEMBER 17 @ INTERCONTINENTAL: IMPRESSIONISM AND EROTICISM

Albert Roussel: Pan
“Composer Albert Roussel visited Cambodia in 1909. He spent several years in India and Southeast Asia and these travel experiences deeply affected him. Many of his musical works would reflect his interest in distant, exotic lands, and a strain of exoticism coloured his work.”

Claude Debussy: Prélude à l’après-midi d’un faune
“One of Debussy’s most famous orchestral works… considered a turning point in the history of music. Pierre Boulez remarked that ‘The flute of the faun brought new breath to the art of music.’”

Olivier Roussel: Regard de l’église d’amour
“Messiaen’s musical language is a representation of religious symbolism. His mother, Cecile Sauvage, exerted a profound influence upon his life and his music through her poetry. Other influences evident… include birdsong, the influences of nature, Russian music, Greek metrics and Hindu rhythms.”

Jules Massenet: Meditation
“Méditation is an instrumental intermezzo from the opera Thaïs for solo violin.Thaïs is the legend of a hedonistic Egyptian courtesan and a devotée of Venus. She leaves her life of luxury and pleasure to find salvation through God. Massenet’s work is described as bearing a sort of religious eroticism and there have been many controversial productions.”
Artists: Him Savy (flute), Cheak Bunhon (clarinet), Pisey Oum & Mattias Krug (violin), Mari Jinnai (soprano), Sethipanha Khuon (cello), Anton Isselhardt (flute), Rong Sereyvann & Etienne Chenevier (piano)

Fright Night

Raising Hell in one of the city’s most haunted houses

Any other day, you wouldn’t notice. You know: the sort of thing that ordinarily melts into the urban maelstrom, cause for little more than perhaps a micro-pause and a snigger. But today, just hours before a midnight séance at what is reportedly one of the capital’s most haunted houses, it’s impossible to ignore. A large white Lexus swings carelessly out into rush-hour traffic,revealing the last three digits of its licence plate: 666. Demonic omen? I reach around and pat my backpack, pockets bulging with offerings and amulets. Here’s hoping…

Halloween – that most pagan of holidays – is almost upon us. As darkness falls across the land, just a few days before October 31 initiates the triduum of Allhallowtide, the pre-séance scramble is on.

Recording equipment? Check. Torches? Check. Chalk dust? Check. Salt? Check (but only after my fellow wing-nut for the night has raided the kitchen at Touk). White candles, symbols of protection and positive energy? Two boxes of pre-loved birthday candles will have to do (I’ve been busy). Ouija board? Check. Haunted house? Check, check and check.

Boo!

When the current owners took over what was once known as 44 Monivong Boulevard, they made a small but nonetheless significant change. According to Chinese beliefs, the number four represents death. To occupy a building of that number is courting danger. To occupy a building the address of which includes that number not just once but twice, back-to-back? Why, that’s practically tossing a lascivious ‘come-hither’ wink to Lucifer himself.

So it is we pull up outside Demo, the sprawling new drinking-games bar that occupies what is now officially #40 Monivong Boulevard. As colonial mansions go, this one has seen better days. The sleek set-up of the first-floor bar, alive with the tinklings and beepings of myriad board and computer games, belies what upstairs is a dimly lit labyrinth of odd-shaped rooms, darker-than-average corners and an impossibly out-of-reach attic that could be hiding… Well, God only knows. And it’s here, amid the rubble and ruin, that tonight we will attempt to raise the no-doubt less-than-grateful dead.

“When we first went inside, there were more than 150 bats which we managed to catch,” says one of Demo’s owners, a charming young Dutchman who politely declines to spend the night upstairs with only two lunatics, a Ouija board and the entire Other Side for company. “There were a few bats in the smaller rooms downstairs, but upstairs was just full of bats. Hundreds of them! When the first construction team came in, no one saw anything; everything was fine. The workers slept upstairs, but they didn’t have any problems; didn’t see anything. The sightings started when my business partner and I decided to move the spirit house that was upstairs in the main room to downstairs, in front of the door, facing outside. I thought that’s what you normally do, you know? We even had a monk come in and give some blessings; all that stuff.”

Weird

It was at that point that the going got weird. “We don’t usually do any business upstairs; as you can see, it’s very empty, very old and dirty. There’s just a staff room upstairs, but everyone was already too scared to go up there. One of my staff went into one of the smaller rooms for a smoke and saw a tall, Asian-looking man – Taiwanese or Chinese, not Cambodian – in all-white clothes, next to the open window, smoking a cigarette. It looked like one of my business partners, so he took a step further. Then the guy turned around, but his face was all blurred; you couldn’t see his eyes. He got really scared and ran downstairs and stupidly told all the staff, so now they’re sacared, too.”

But then it got weirder. “One of the event companies we use was supposed to decorate upstairs for our Halloween event: we’re doing a haunted house. One of my good friends, I took him around. He’s 23, from New Zealand, and there was a Korean girl around the same age. I showed them around and they had good ideas, but then they got some bad vibes. The girl, she’s very open to it, so she had started seeing things already. It was dark and we were just using the flashlight on a phone. She actually said there was a dark spirit following one of us non-stop – and it was really weird she said that, because most spirits are good-hearted, so long as you take care of them…”

And weirder. “Then she saw a small girl and a small boy. My friends were both pretty silent; I could see they were scared. We went into the next room, then we heard a noise in the room we’d just left. I heard it, too: it was a clicking sound. She said it was the small girl asking for attention, but that we shouldn’t give it to her. We went downstairs again and they both said they really wanted to help us, but they couldn’t decorate upstairs. The vibe was not good…”

And weirder. “One of my Cambodian business partners, who I’ve known for five years, she has these dreams and as far as I know they almost always come true. Staying in my hotel, she’ll wake up in the middle of the night and there will be ghosts telling her: ‘OK, I need three pigs, two chickens, one of this, two of these…’ Very detailed! The next morning, she’ll do that. That’s just her. She also had a dream about this place, that there are more than 20 spirits here. It was then we found out we shouldn’t have moved the spirit house, because it was there for a reason. She helped us bring it back and do the blessings. That was a week ago and, so far, no sightings. She says the spirits are now back in the spirit house. Before, because they no longer had it to stay in, that’s why they were wandering around.”

It’s thus with more than a touch of trepidation that, long after the last client has wobbled his way out of the bar, my fellow Ghostbuster and I finally kneel in the dark before the softly glowing spirit house. The cold of grit-covered floor tiles shoots through each kneecap and into the brain, threatening to unseat the board perched precariously between us. By the flickering light of only a few bright-coloured birthday candles (by the time we’d lit the last, the first was a tiny puddle of pink wax), two lone voices bounce off the bare, crumbling walls, ricocheting up into the rafters and waking the more-than-a-few leftover bats. “Spirits of the past, walk among us. Be guided by the light of this world and visit upon us…”

The séance

We’re following, to the letter, the rather po-faced Edwardian instructions given by one William Fuld in the US on the back of his 1902 ‘Mystifying Oracle Talking Board’ parlour game, one of the world’s first patented Ouija boards:

‘Place the board upon the knees of two persons, lady and gentleman preferred, with the small tablet upon the board. Place the fingers lightly but firmly, without pressure, upon the tablet so as to allow it to move easily and freely. In from one to five minutes the tablet will commence to move, at first slowly, then faster, and will be then able to talk or answer questions, which it will do rapidly by touching the printed words or the letters necessary to form words and sentences with the foreleg or pointer.’

(This information comes, of course, from a trusted source. On museumoftalkingboards.com, there exists a virtual Ouija board you can actually use. I know. I tried it. I asked the online talking board, in earnest: ‘Will I ever be a rock star?’ This was its reply: ‘YES, and I’m not a gay deceiver. The successful man is one who starts at the bottom and wakes up. The only person who can succeed by letting things slide is a trombone player. Everything some men touch turns to gold. Everything I touch, they make me put it back. Most guys who claim to be self-made men knocked off work too soon.’ So there you have it.)

Minutes pass. Numbness starts to set in below the waist, countered only by shooting back pain. Scattering dust bunnies prompt spastic sneezing fits. We wipe the board down and start again. Eventually, after several increasingly imploring incantations, our fingers are no longer consciously controlling the pointer. With the slightest of sounds, like miniature nails scraping down a midget blackboard, the planchette begins to inch its way, haltingly, across the board. The answer to the proverbial question ‘Is there anybody there?’, as it turns out, is ‘Yes’.

The thrill is palpable. Minuscule bolts of electricity shoot from where flesh meets plastic, up your fingers, across your shoulders and down your spine. I can’t feel my feet. ‘What is your name?’ Again, for a few electrifying seconds, nothing happens. Then, more ponderously than before, the pointer glides beneath our fingers – in inch-long, staccato increments – first to the letter J, then the letter G. Eyebrows unanimously raised, we ask more: ‘Will you stay and talk with us?’

Again, stillness. Then, with steadily increasing speed, the pointer pulls our fingertips toward ‘No’. We exchange glances, barely able to make out each other’s outlines in the all-swallowing darkness. Cautioned in every document we could find not to risk courting negative energies during a séance, the defining question comes: ‘Do you want us to leave?’ Nails scrape against blackboard for what was to be the final time that night.

‘Yes’…

WHO: Things that go bump in the night
WHAT: Haunted house
WHERE: Demo, #40 Monivong Blvd.
WHEN: 8pm October 31
WHY: We are not alone

Diary of the diabolical

THURSDAY 30

Spooky Castle
Prize for best Halloween costume. 5pm at The Summer, #18 St. 294.

Halloween Dinner
A Halloween-themed, three-course surprise menu, mini Halloween festivities, and a dark dining delight cocktail promotion, complete with lollipop. 7pm at Dine in The Dark, #126 St. 19.

FRIDAY 31

Halloween Fiesta
3pm at Cantina, #347 Sisowath Quay.

Spooky Castle
Prize for best Halloween costume. 5pm at The Summer, #18 St. 294.

Trick or Treat
Regency Cafe opens its Little House of Horror for Halloween evening. Dress up in Halloween costume and enjoy 50% discount. 6pm at Intercontinental Hotel, #296 Mao Tse Tung Blvd.

Yadah Halloween Party
Starter kit + special Western menu + 2Halloween cocktails + soft drinks + Halloween make-up + prizes, Tickets: $22. 6pm at The Beat, #21 St. 148.

Halloween Costume Party
WithDJ Toni from Sri Lanka. Free pick up, free food, free drinks and party games. 7pm at The Tap Room, #1784 National Road 5.

Scare Box: Halloween
Games, spooky menu and funky beats spun by the scariest DJs in town. Prize for the best dressed. 7pm at Show Box, #11 St. 330.

Halloween Party
7pm at Metro Rahu, #159 Sisowath Quay.

Arrival of The Dead
Free shots for best Halloween costumes. 7pm at Frost Bar, #10 St. 246.

Halloween Party
Scary buffet at Mekong Restaurant, followed by costume party at QBA Bar. 7pm at Cambodiana Hotel, #313 Sisowath Quay.

The Blue Corner Halloween Party
Halloween buffet, free cocktails, live music, Halloween costume contest. 7pm at The Blue Corner, #37 St. 63.

Halloween Dining
A Halloween themed three-course menu, festivities and a dark dining delight cocktail, complete with lollipop. 7pm at Dine in The Dark, #126 St. 19.

Halloween Costume Party
Food, games and prizes. Tickets: $15. Kingdom Breweries, #1748 National Road 5.

Halloween Concert
Halloween cocktails $3. 7pm at Cabaret, #159 St. 154

Hell on Wheels
Bus tour to four venues, starting at Duplex. Tickets: $10. 8pm at Duplex, #3 St. 278.

Haunted House
8pm at Harem Lounge, #154 Sisowath Quay.

Kimchi Collective Halloween
The best in electronic party music, as well as Michael Jackson’s Thriller and maybe even Ghostbusters. 8pm at Chinese House, #45 Sisowath Quay.

Halloween Party
8pm at Metro Hassakan, #271 St. 148.

Demonism
DJs Bluesabelle, Shaman, Rob Bianche, WengWai, Simon C Vent, Dr WahWah, Low Renz. 8pm at Demo, #40 Monivong Blvd.

Spooky Halloween Party
8pm at Nomad, #46 St. 172.

Halloween Costume Contest
8pm at Maison Saint Tropez, #31 St. 174.

Halloween Spooktacular
Live music, drink specials and prizes. 8pm at Sundance Inn & Saloon, St. 172.

Hillbilly Halloween
With Joe Wrigley & The Jumping Jacks. 9pm at Sharky’s, #126 St. 130.

Halloween Party
Prize for best costume. 9pm at Top Banana, #9 St. 278.

Halloween Bloody Rock
With the Sinville Road Show. 9pm at Slur Bar, #28 St. 172.

Spooky Night
Sepia band and Halloween specials. 9pm at DarlinDarlin, Nagaworld.

Dia De Los Muertos
A proper Halloween atmosphere, through the cold and dark walls of the club. 9pm at D – Club, #3 St. 278.

Haunted Circus Party
9pm at F Club, Level 5 NagaWorld.

The Adobo Conspiracy Halloween Gig
9pm at Equinox, #3 St. 278.

Ghost Invaders
Scary surprises at Nova’s haunted house. 9pm at Nova Club, #19 St. 214.

Zombination
DJ Bree &RackyZ. 10pm at Code Red, opposite NagaWorld.

Halloween Party
10pm at Zeus Club, #468 Monivong Blvd.

Halloween Party
11pm at Pontoon Club, #80 St. 172.

Halloween Thriller Night
WithDJs Kdeb and Black. 11:45pm at Heart of Darkness, #38 St. 51.

SATURDAY 1

Haunted House
8pm at Harem Lounge, #154 Sisowath Quay.

Ghost Invaders
9pm at Nova Club, #19 St. 214.

Blood Bath: Halloween Party
Guest DJs & freaks. 9pm at CodeRed, opposite NagaWorld.

Helloween Party
With DJ Fud. 9pm at Meta House, #37 Sothearos Blvd.

Halloween Party
11pm at Pontoon Club, #80 St. 172.

SUNDAY 2

Halloween Horrors
11:30am at Himawari Hotel, SisowathQuay.

Wolves On The Tracks

Twenty years ago this month, the bodies of three backpackers murdered by the Khmer Rouge were recovered from the hills of Kampot. Wayne McCallum explores their story and how the fatuity of our youth can go tragically wrong.

Guatemala, September 1993:

‘Beep’

‘Bang’

‘Shit! Was that a dog?’

The driver of the bus seemed undeterred as we trundled on in a vain effort to make our destination before nightfall, the light outside fading fast as we sped through the Guatemalan countryside. We were an hour out of Flores, weaving our way south down a dusty pot-holed road. Inside the heat was stifling, with a palpable sense of unease hanging over the passengers pushed in around me. The tourist police had posted a written warning back at the bus station: It was dangerous on the road; left wing guerrillas were stopping buses, robbing passengers. There had been shootings. Travelling at night for foreigners was strictly prohibited.

It was the summer of 1993 and Guatemala was in the dying throngs of a ‘dirty little war’ that had left thousands dead. It was foolhardy for me to be out on the road and on this bus rouletting with my future. But braced by naive bravado, born from a cotton-wool existence back in the West, I had little idea how treacherous it was out here in the ‘real world’: a lamb in the place where wolves hugged the shadows, just out of sight, waiting.

I met my ‘wolves’ ten minutes later as our bus screeched to a sudden halt and the driver quickly killed the engine. It became deadly quiet, save for the clucking of chickens and the squealing of a baby somewhere toward the rear of the bus. I inhaled deeply and held my breath, waiting in trepidation. A camouflaged figure appeared beneath the weak coach light and ordered us off the bus: ‘Fuera del autobús. Ahora!’ We silently complied, filing outside where his colleagues, ten in number, stood in a crooked line with M16s at their sides or slung causally from a shoulder. My heartbeat, already racing, quickened as I was ordered to line up against the side of the bus with the rest of my travelling companions. I shut my eyes for a moment and gave a silent prayer before re-opening them to see what would happen next. Inside I was petrified, asking myself: ‘Why, oh why, had I got on this bus?’

A trip to the coast

A year later three young Westerners had reason to ask themselves a similar question. Jean-Michael Braquet (French), Mark Slater (English) and David Wilson (Australian) had met their own wolves in the hills of Kampot, in southwest Cambodia. Like me they had ignored a travel ban, this one forbidding foreigners from boarding the weekly train that wound its way from Phnom Penh to Sihanoukville. The ban was well justified, the train having become a popular target for a regiment of the Khmer Rouge who still occupied the region of Phnom Voar, a small range of hills in the borderlands of Kep and Kampot provinces. Already the train had been attacked on six previous occasions, the Khmer Rouge robbing and kidnapping passengers in an increasingly desperate effort to fund their fight against the government.

The popular version of the story is that the three backpackers had befriended each other in Phnom Penh. Somehow, still unexplained, they had managed to purchase tickets to travel to the coast on the fateful date of July 26, 1994. When that day arrived, things had gone well until, 30 minutes outside Kampot, the train reached a gully where Khmer Rouge soldiers, under the command of Colonel Chhunk Rin, lay in wait. After an exchange of gun and rocket fire, in which 13 Cambodian passengers were killed, the soldiers entered the train and stumbled upon the three Westerners. Excited about their value as hostages, they bound the trio and marched them into the nearby hills of Phnom Voar. It was here they were destined to spend the last two months of their lives, secreted away in a secluded village hut. In the outside world, meanwhile, the drama to secure their release was about to begin.

In the weeks that followed it became apparent the three Westerners, quickly dubbed ‘the backpackers’, were far from the cash cow their Khmer Rouge captors had envisaged. The reluctance of the French, UK and Australian governments to bend to demands for a $50,000-a-piece ransom had been the captors’ first disappointment. Matters deteriorated further with the commencement of a concerted shelling campaign in the Phnom Voar region by troops of the Royal Cambodian Armed Forces (RCAF). Particularly galling for the Khmer Rouge was the fact this offensive was initiated contrary to a promise by Prince Norodom Sirivudh, then the Kingdom’s foreign minister, that no such actions would take place. Unsurprisingly, the shelling campaign precipitated a hardening of the Khmer Rouge stance toward the negotiations and their three captives. Then finally, on September 25, a chilling radio message was relayed by the Khmer Rouge leadership in the north to the commander of the southern forces, General Sam Bith.

“According to the instructions of #99 [Pol Pot’s radio call sign], the recommendations are that these three have no further use. Suggestion to #37 [Sam Bith, southern commander] is that they must be destroyed… after the execution keep it strictly secret.” – Radio communication reported in the Phnom Penh Post in 1998.

A day or so later, the backpackers were allegedly marched to the rear of a hut, where Braquet and Slater were killed by single shots to the head. Two blows from a heavy instrument ended Wilson’s life. The bodies were hurriedly buried in a single grave that pro-government forces uncovered less than a month later, following the withdrawal and defection of Phnom Voar’s remaining Khmer Rouge troops. Yet the gruesome discovery was far from the end of the story. In the months and then years that followed, recriminations, claims and counterclaims have swirled around what really happened down there in the badlands of Phnom Voar.

For one, the question of who was to blame for the deaths of the three foreigners – not forgetting the 13 Khmers who perished in the ambush – was to shift and deviate, although ultimately Colonel Rin (the ambush leader), General Paet (Rin’s commander) and General Bith (overall southern commander) were to serve prison sentences for their role in the attack and deaths. Yet other vexing questions have remained unanswered. What, for example, became of a $50,000 ransom that was allegedly sent to Cambodia for one of the hostages, only for the money to mysteriously disappear? And why did the RCAF engage in a military assault in the foothills of Phnom Voar during a key point in the negotiations, despite the promise of a ceasefire? And what of the claims of disaffected Australian diplomat Alastair Gaisford about the role of his embassy in the affair? And perhaps, most unexpected of all, why, among the expat community of Phnom Penh in 1994, was there so much antagonism towards the victims and what they had done?

Hard to feel any sympathy

Gemma Palmer was a petite, quietly spoken Brit working as a childcare officer when I met her in 2005. It was wise not to make assumptions based on her appearance, which belied a tough-as-nails, no-nonsense attitude. Gemma had journeyed to the Kingdom in the post-Untac days, shortly after the 1993 election, and stayed on to work on child justice issues. Eleven years after the events, she still retained strong feelings about the incident when we discussed it in 2005.

What wrangled Gemma and a number of her compatriots was the repeated story that the three men – Braquet, Slater and Wilson – had bragged throughout the capital’s guesthouses and bars about their imminent departure on the train, laughing about how they had ‘got one over’ on the local ticket sellers. Such a cocksure attitude was unlikely to find many friends among the long-term Western community that had been through the travails of the past and was well aware of the risks that lay beyond the city’s outskirts.

It would have been so simple, Gemma believed, for a contact to have passed on information about the men’s plans to the Khmer Rouge, who then had ample time to plan their ambush. The subsequent deaths of the 13 Cambodian passengers were, to Gemma and her ilk, the real tragedy of the story, yet one the foreign press glossed over in its focus on the fate of the ‘poor’ Westerners.

Before you leave this piece thinking Gemma was a heartless soul, consider the sympathy she felt over the fates of Dominic Chappell and Kellie Wilkinson, a well-known and liked couple who ran a popular restaurant in Sihanoukville – Café Rendezvous – and their friend, Tina Dominy. Their tale provides an interesting contrast to the way the two sets of deaths were mourned by Phnom Penh expats at the time.

In April 1994, Chappell, Wilkinson and Dominy were kidnapped while travelling by car between Phnom Penh and Sihanoukville allegedly, again, by Khmer Rouge soldiers. Dominic and Kellie had been journeying to the capital to stock up on supplies for the Khmer New Year holiday, while Tina had chosen to extend her stay in Cambodia to enjoy the festivities.

Like the backpackers three months later, a ransom was demanded but not paid. It was July, around the time Braquet, Slater and Wilson were boarding their train, that the bodies of the three friends were discovered in shallow graves. Investigations revealed they had likely been murdered almost immediately after their capture and the call for a ransom had meant nothing. For the fallen Sihanoukville friends, Gemma could shed a tear. For the ‘backpacking three’, as she coolly stated, it was “hard to feel any sympathy”.

Political, military and diplomatic

Khmer Rouge kidnappings weren’t a new phenomenon in early 1990s Cambodia, with captures and prompt releases a frequent event before and after the Untac elections of 1993. However, by 1994 things had grown progressively more dangerous as the remaining units were driven to ever more drastic measures to fund their operations and achieve diplomatic points. In early February, an American woman visiting the ruins at Angkor had been kidnapped. Another Westerner was shot and wounded in a botched kidnap attempt near Kampong Speu.

Still Braquet, Slater and Wilson had fair grounds to believe their capture would be no more than an interesting footnote in their lives rather than the final chapter. The US citizen kidnapped in February had been released, while the fate of the three Sihanoukville friends was still unknown. Even their captors gave cause to believe the whole matter would be over quickly:

“They thought they were just tourists and would be released. I told them that I thought it would be done quickly. I didn’t know it was such a political, military and diplomatic thing.” – Colonel Chhouk Rin, reported in the Phnom Penh Post, 1995.

But as Colonel Rin’s statement suggests, things weren’t so straightforward. Politics, individual and factional self-interests, and intrigue ran deep, leaving some tantalising questions and half answers about how and why events unfolded as they did.

For a start, at the senior level of the Khmer Rouge, it remains unclear if there was ever a shared strategy about the use and fate of the three foreigners. For Rin, Paet and Bith in the south, the men’s capture likely represented a quick and easy way to make some much-needed money to fund their operations. However, the ensuing unwillingness of the hostage’s home countries to negotiate a ransom deal saw this anticipated opportunity evaporate quickly. For Pol Pot, squirrelled away in his northern enclave and increasingly delusional, events suggest he saw the hostages offering a much wider geopolitical opportunity, namely a means of leveraging an end to Australian and French military support for the fledgling Cambodian government. However, when neither country appeared willing to negotiate on these grounds, the value of the hostages to the Khmer Rouge leader dwindled. Very quickly, the expected assets became a liability to both commands.

Wider political machinations in the south added further complexity to the affair. Following the 1993 elections, the royalist Funcinpec party had consolidated a powerful support base in the southwest. With Khmer Rouge units progressively defecting to the government, there was ongoing tension between the Cambodian People’s Party and Funcinpec over which party these units would align with, bringing with them military strength and experience that could alter provincial power balances. It’s plausible the CPP, fearing a Funcinpec-brokered deal for the hostages could precipitate a defection to their rival, could have sought to scupper any deals that threatened their own efforts to court the southern Khmer Rouge factions. This offers one tantalising possibility as to why a ceasefire brokered by a Funcinpec minister (Prince Sirivudh) was subsequently violated by commanders aligned to the CPP.

Among Khmer Rouge commanders in the south, meanwhile, things were far from rosy. Rin and Paet are rumoured to have fallen out over the way spoils from previous raids had been shared. Later, in October, it was Rin who chose to defect with the bulk of the unit’s troops across to the government side, although not, crucially, to the Funcinpec faction. Does this mean either Paet or Rin ordered the killings in order to tarnish the reputation of the other? Or did the two men simply follow the orders of Pol Pot and carry out the executions as instructed?

It may be no more than a sideshow, but the claims of disgruntled Australian diplomat Alastair Gaisford added fuel to the fire over the events of 1994. Gaisford’s story is remarkable in its own right: originally posted to Cambodia in the mid-1990s, shortly after the backpacker affair he released allegations of paedophile activity among his fellow diplomats at the Australian embassy, an act for which he was later suspended. It’s not surprising Gaisford was described as a ‘hostile witness’ in the coronial inquest into David Wilson’s death, which was eventually released in 2012: a full 18 years after his murder. To the coronial hearing, Gaisford testified that the Australian embassy had deliberately played a low-key role in the affair, believing that, should things go wrong, it would be able to absolve itself of direct responsibility. For Gaisford, a self-styled whistle-blower, this was tantamount to the betrayal of David Wilson by his country’s government.

Searching for David

Truth, lies and intrigue: 20 years on, it’s difficult to piece together what really happened out there in the hills of Kampot back in 1994. Despite all that I read and learn, I still can’t get a sense of who Braquet, Slater or Wilson were as individuals. What made them laugh? Cry? What brought them to Cambodia? At the centre of the story, they remain almost invisible as personalities, reduced to tragic figures in photos and rare film footage.

I find one photograph of David Wilson, taken in a guesthouse in Phnom Penh, a few days before his ill-fated trip. He is laughing, smiling, surrounded by Khmer and expat friends. He looks like a man brimming with life, the liberation of travel and a tad too much alcohol. I seek out Peter Wilson, David’s father, calling all the P Wilsons in the Melbourne phone book with the hope of learning more about the man in the photo.

I’m down to the last possibility when I put through the Skype call. Three ring tones and a frail-sounding man answers. I feel awkward about introducing myself and the reason for the call. I keep it simple and ask the man if he is Peter Wilson and whether he had a son who came to Cambodia. The line goes quiet. I can feel the invisible person thinking about their response. A tired voice comes back through the line: “Sorry, I cannot help you.” [click] I sit for a moment, staring at my computer screen. I’m not sure, but I have a feeling this was the Peter I sought. Still I have nothing and David remains as elusive as when I started my quest.

Phnom Voar

If I can’t learn more about the three men, perhaps I can get a sense of Phnom Voar, where the events unfolded. Early October finds me in a jeep travelling down a dusty road where, like much of the Cambodian countryside at the end of wet season, the hills of Kampot look vibrant and lush. We pull over and I step out of the vehicle to join my travelling companion on the road’s verge. “So, which one do you think is Phnom Voar?” She looks around and points off in the middle distance. “That one looks the tallest. I think that must be it.” I look to where she is pointing and consider the possibility. “You could be right, but that one over there looks taller,” I say, pointing. “Maybe! Who knows?” she shrugs. After three hours of looking for Phnom Voar, she’s bored and increasingly mystified as to why this place means so much to me. Conscious of her mood, I decide not to press things and judge it time to end this trip. Phnom Voar will have to wait for another day.

The sun is slowly sinking as we hop back in the jeep. I gun the engine and we are quickly gone, a soft plume of dust and two lone tread marks the only reminder we’ve been there. Like so much about this story, Phnom Voar has proved elusive. I steer towards Kampot, leaving the hills to their memories and the past.

Guatemala, 1993:

A man pats me down, his hand lingering where he might expect to find my wallet. Finding nothing, he moves on to the woman next to me. She’s a young campesino and I can sense her unease at the presence of the rough-looking soldier. He mutters a few words and makes a token effort to look inside her basket. Members of the Guatemalan army have stopped us. Better than guerrillas? Perhaps, but with a history of death squads and village massacres, nothing is certain. Still, I can feel a sense of relief among my fellow passengers. Someone down the line cracks a joke and the soldiers laugh. A few moments later, the commander points to the bus and orders us back on board.

Sitting back in my seat I’m joined by the young woman and her baby, together with five chickens tied together at their feet. The diesel engine fires and we are soon moving, leaving the checkpoint far behind. My neighbour looks up and gives me a gentle smile, while from her lap the baby chuckles softly. In 1993, I survived my encounter with the wolves. Not everyone is so fortunate.

Lust For Life

Crazy Dutch artist Peter Klashorst on mud, black magic & the madness of the human condition

He was a protagonist of the New Wild Ones, the arts movement that swept Europe in the 1980s and was described by the New York Times as ‘A bunch of crazy Dutch guys’; he was accused of witchcraft in Africa and had to flee into a haunted forest, and his giant paintings of S21 prisoners almost caused a riot here in Phnom Penh three years ago. Meet Peter Klashorst, the Dutch self-professed ‘punk artist’ throwing open the doors of his Street 130 & 5 studio this month for a new, post-apocalyptic exhibition.

First off, a Freudian question: tell me about your childhood. I want to know about your relationship with your mother.

[Laughs] My mother?! What are you, my psychiatrist?!

No, no. Look: no beard!

My mother was my earliest model, actually. She taught me how to stretch a canvas and she bought me my first easel and paint box. She was just a housewife. My father didn’t like the idea that I was painting; he wanted me to play football. I still have that paint box; I still paint with it when I’m at home. When she taught me to stretch canvas, I was seven or eight – very, very young when I started – and I still do it the same way. It’s actually the best way. I do it better than most professionals. She told me one of my ancestors was a sculptor in a church, so somehow this artistic connection maybe… I don’t know. It’s just a story.

I grew up in a very middle-class, bourgeois area. My father bought and sold houses where the rich people lived. I was actually born in a very good area, but my father gambled on the stock market and lost all his money, so we had to stay in a small, very middle-class urban area. I think he lost, in guilders, about $2 million – an unbelievable amount of money, but he didn’t care about money because it was an abstract thing. I think most gamblers don’t care about money, because if they cared about money they wouldn’t gamble; they wouldn’t risk losing it. Gamblers don’t give a fuck about money, so they’re happy with nothing. My father was a speculator. He always wanted me to be a stockbroker, a gambler! [Laughs]

I look Asian. My father, who has blue eyes and blond hair, always told me I was Chinese. Now I’m here, everyone thinks I look barang! At a very early age, that gave me a good reason not to discriminate against people; to always be open to other cultures and ideas, because I was not ‘Dutch’. I never considered myself Dutch.

So you’ve always occupied a fringe position?

Yes, I was always the outsider; always different. I got a lot of girls, of course, because in Holland everyone was blond with blue eyes. The girls were lining up in front of my house. At that time, I didn’t know what to do with it! It made me very shy, but because I looked different, looked exotic, the girls were very interested. If I could go back in a time machine, I’d fuck them all… [Laughs]

How did you go from being the shy retiring type to a key figure in De Nieuwe Wilden (‘The Wild Ones’), the arts movement that swept Europe in the ‘80s?

I’m interested in discussions; a rebel without a cause. Sometimes you have to try to shock people in order to get them to think about the situation we’re in today. Maybe a lot of my art or the things I say are, to a lot of people, shocking, but I don’t mean it in a bad way. I just try to convince them to think about the situation. Most people, they have two different lives: they have a secret life. A lot of these guys in Isis, they’re not really Muslim at all; they watch pornography, they drink, but to the outside world they try to be very religious. In Holland, we have the same thing: people still have to fuck. I was arrested, for instance, in a Muslim country – Senegal – for allegedly running a brothel and also painting nude women. I was wondering: even if you’re Muslim, sometimes you see a naked lady, so what’s wrong with nudity? But sometimes you can go too far with the authorities and you end up in prison.

How far did you go, exactly?

For my own feeling, it was kind of innocent. I rented a house in an extreme Muslim neighbourhood just outside Dakar. I wasn’t aware of that, but later I found out it was a very strict Muslim area. There were no bars, no nightclubs; all the women wore veils. Then there was me. I bought an open-top jeep. Even when the Muslims were fasting, which happens for two weeks during Ramadan, I had these girls with their miniskirts and the music was loud and they were just being happy, you know? I didn’t see it as prostitution; they weren’t selling themselves or their bodies in that car and the house was not a brothel, but that’s what they accused me of. It was an enclave of people doing whatever they wanted: smoking, using drugs. It was a club in a hardcore Muslim neighbourhood; you could say ‘an Isis neighbourhood’.

And what was your relationship like with those neighbours?

It was actually very good. I’m sure if we were to speak to people from Isis individually, we’d see we’re both human beings and there’s no problem, really. Once, I saw people throwing stones at my car and thought: ‘Why?’ I didn’t realise they were throwing stones because I was an infidel. I invited these people inside my house and then they could see there was nothing to be scared of. Wars and all kinds of trouble start when people get scared of each other. It’s not because they’re strong, it’s because they’re scared. That’s why they band together and start fighting another group. Hitler was scared of Jewish people: he thought they were more intelligent, but in reality, of course, we’re all the same. There’s no difference.

One of the things you’re famous for is painting nude black women, which started after an incident at Amsterdam’s Club Non Stop.

Yes! I met a lady there who had scarification all over her body, like trees and flowers; very organic. It was all over the body: only scarification, done with a razorblade I think, but it was beautiful. She told me she was from Liberia, so I wanted to go there to see where this was coming from. Later on, after I was already in prison and after the whole story, I found out she’s actually from Nigeria, so I was on completely the wrong side of Africa! [Laughs]

What did African artists make of you?

A friend of mine visited Kenya recently and there was an artists’ colony on an island there. They don’t know my name any more, but they said: ‘Yeah, we’re admirers of that artist who was arrested here,’ and so they paint like me, in my style! In East Africa, they copy my work and sell it on the internet. Fascinating. Even while we’re talking, they’re still making them. They sell for about $50 each. The thing is: if it’s a really good Peter Klashorst painting, then you know it’s a fake. [Laughs] Because they really work hard at it; they take the best pieces of my work and make it into a pastiche, a new thing. They have more patience than me. I’m kind of a rough painter; I throw paint, I’m passionate. Their work is very naive but very beautiful. I admire their work. Most of the time, if a collector buys one and asks me if it’s real, I’ll say: ‘Yes, of course it’s real!’ I don’t want to disappoint them. But I feel for these artists: they have a hard life. If they sell two or three paintings a month, they can live from that. Who am I to question?

Take us back to art school and your punk band, Soviet Sex. You played bass, right?

Yes, bass. Soviet Sex started in 1978 or 1979. I cut my hair! I was totally impressed with the whole punk movement in England – and at that time it was only happening in England; it wasn’t anywhere on the continent. I’d just started art school and I was about 17 or 18. Most people in art school still had the hippy style. At the time, punks were seen as a fascist movement; very controversial. Now, it’s fashion. At that time it was the swastikas, the concentration-camp clothing. I had this one outfit: one side was a concentration-camp uniform, the other side was a Nazi uniform, the two stitched together, so I was walking around in that with a huge Jewish star and a swastika. Sometimes people became very aggressive because they didn’t understand what I was trying to say. It was also a way to get people thinking. For me, it was a way to protest against this totalitarian society. I really started my painting when I was in the punk movement; I evolved from that period. I still consider myself a ‘punk artist’ in a way.

Some of the techniques you use – particularly cut-ups – echo those of Europe’s avant-garde Dadaists of the early 20th century, who were a huge influence on the punk movement.

I still do that. In this painting, you can see a kind of collage. In others I literally build layers up. I use photographs, anything I can get my hands on to make my story clear. I don’t care about the technique or how you do it, whether you paint from life or a photograph. I’m interested in telling a story with a political meaning, that’s why I do it, and the whole handling of the paint and the formal problems of painting are also going through my brain. Art history is always in your luggage, but in the end it’s about the story you want to tell. It’s not about art for art’s sake. It’s about the message.

I like it when things go wrong. With oils, you have to fight with the paint. Oil is a very difficult material; it fights back. A lot of accidents happen along the way, beautiful accidents. That’s how I paint: I paint from one mistake to another. Usually I have an idea of the story I want to tell or what the picture is going to say. I’m not like these women who do cross stitch; I don’t go from one end to the other. Everything that goes wrong goes well, you know? When I’m drunk, I also paint…

Do you have different artistic personalities?

Yes, yes, yes. I’m a schizophrenic artist! Most artists have a theme or recipe, which is easier for collectors because they know their ‘brand’, but I paint differently when I’m hungry or when I’m horny. I use all these emotions in the paintings. I even fuck on my paintings! [Laughs] They’re painted with sperm and oil and blood, sometimes. It depends. You become part of the painting; it sucks you in. It’s about energy; I throw energy into it. Whether it becomes abstract or figurative, I don’t care. When you buy a painting, maybe you get some of that energy back. It’s about lust for life, as the great Iggy Pop said. I’m inspired by that era, that energy. The pogo dance! It’s about craziness and madness and the human condition. Of course, it’s also about drugs and sex, but it’s the energy; again, that lust for life.

During an interview with New York talk-show host Tom Rhodes, you once said: ‘I want to show how beautiful God created this Earth and all of its inhabitants.’ Does that still apply?

Yes, but there are two sides. Sometimes I want to show how terrible things are, but also I paint of lot of ladies. Here, the streets and the bars are full of hookers, but I paint them like princesses, like goddesses, like Venus. Most of the men here don’t come as sex tourists, but they come here to pray for Venus. I think they’re love tourists, not sex tourists.

Now there’s a conveniently nice way of putting it.

Like the girl you just saw here: for me, it’s not about that. Of course, sometimes you have sexual relations, but it’s not about sex. For me, it’s only about the beauty of her face, plus I’m interested in her. I think there’s a goddess in every one of them, but as a human being it depends on the situation you’re in. I don’t think Cambodia is much different than Holland, where a lawyer gets less pay than a prostitute. It has to do with morals, not money only.

You mention morals. Trendbeheer.com quotes you as saying: ‘Drugs, alcohol, sex: all unnecessary nonsense. Do not do it.’ Do you stand by that?

Yes, I stand by that. I’m not into drugs or alcohol. I only drink when I’m totally bored and also the whole sex thing is overrated. I’m from a family of Mormons, so all these people were very religious and against alcohol, smoking, and even drinking tea or coffee was not allowed. I stand by that, and in that way I can also understand Muslims. All the things you do to destroy your brain. I live in this neighbourhood and many times I see people crying, screaming, acting crazy. I’m just like them when I’m drunk. I also get into fights. My father always told me: ‘Only weak men smoke or use drugs or drink alcohol or fuck ladies. It’s for the weak. If you want to be a real man and be strong, don’t fuck the ladies or drink or do drugs.’ I’m not a hypocrite, but I’m also drinking, fighting, fucking and doing all those things.

And you choose to surround yourself with prostitutes. Why?

I’m also attracted to the dark side of life. I was living a very bourgeois life: playing hockey, riding horses, sailing boats, but I was always attracted to the dark side. I think most of us are. In bourgeois society, it’s very hidden, taboo, but behind closed doors… Many of these ladies, they marry the CEO of some company just because he has money, not because they love him, so what’s the difference between them and the bar girls right here? In Nairobi, supposedly none of the embassy people fuck black women. I have a son there, so I had to go to the embassy to make him Dutch, and I was dressed in a three-piece suit for the occasion. I thought: ‘This is serious. He becomes a member of the Dutch tribe.’ It’s like a ceremony, you know? An official thing. Then the mother of my son came and smiled to all these guys. Later on I asked: ‘How do you know them?’ ‘Yeah, I fucked them,’ she says. ‘They’re my clients.’ [Laughs] In a way it wasn’t something I was waiting to hear, but it is reality.

Once upon a time, in the Netherlands, you started your own political party.

I thought: ‘I’m always standing on the side lines. Maybe it’s time to get involved.’ The most difficult part in Holland is getting a signature from every province before you can join the national election, but that we did and we also paid the 10,000 Euros. But then they accused us of fraud, they wanted to arrest us.

You said at the outset: ‘I’m a human being and artists are always looking for the truth, and most politicians are talking so much bullshit and lies, it’s an insult to the voters… I had a vision, like Joan of Arc, that I should do it.’

It’s like you have the real world, the political world, the fantasy world, and now, if you read the newspapers, I can’t believe people believe that shit. It’s all lies. Most of us are victims. As an artist, I’m inside but I’m also outside. Nobody’s my boss. These people with ‘normal’ jobs, who pay their taxes, they’re only lying to themselves. ‘Worldwide change!’ as Obama says. I’ve never seen so many wars since he took office.

Should the creatives – artists, musicians, writers – run the world, rather than career politicians?

Ah, but Hitler was an artist, too! Most of these politicians are quite normal on a one-to-one basis, but once they get in power, they get corrupted. There’s so much going on, they don’t have a clear vision any more. They get influenced by other people, other ideas. They lose their original idea of helping people. Sometimes we think they’re liars and cheats, but it’s hard work. They’re doing it 24 hours for I don’t know how many people; they don’t have time for anything else any more. That’s the reality.

What was your running-for-office reality?

I liked it. It gives you some respectability, rather than just being a crazy artist, but being a crazy artist is more fun, so I stopped politics. It wasn’t going that bad: because I was a crazy artist, I got a lot of attention from the media and I could have used that to get a lot of votes at some point, but I ran away; I ran back to Africa. I knew that once I started I’d get sucked in because I like history, I like politics, I like all these things. It’s an interesting occupation and you’re helping people; that’s the idea. It was too successful, in a way. I could feel it was going somewhere and it was going somewhere I didn’t want it to go. Do I really want to do this? No, I want to be a total loser in Africa.

This is the point you moved to Kenya and were accused of witchcraft.

I was living in a villa, a kind of estate with two houses. One I used as a studio, the other I was living in, as usual, with a few ladies. One night they went out and had a few; I think they’d been using drugs or something. So two of them went out and they came back totally naked. It was a beautiful sight; there was a lot of rain. They were covered in mud, but were totally naked; running through the village. They were rolling around in the mud, possessed! Totally possessed! Whatever it was, it must have been strong. What happened next is the other ladies in the house – somehow it was contagious – also started. It was mass hysteria! [Laughs] The head of CID was living next to me, although I didn’t know this, and he’s looking down at all these naked ladies running around and rolling on the floor and shouting, and I say: ‘Hey, can you call an ambulance or something?’ And he says: ‘No, I called the police already. I’m CID.’ I saw these two police cars coming and I was certain these girls were using drugs, but I didn’t know where they were – I didn’t care…

Have you ever been a user?

Yes, I’ve tried everything. I have nothing against it. I think it’s a good way to clear your mind, but if you get addicted, it’s the wrong side of the story. So anyway I saw these police cars coming and Kenyans are known for being good runners – they’re the fastest runners in the world – but my, my, my, could I run! [Laughs] I outran them! There was a forest I knew these people were scared of; there are ruins of old houses, and big holes. I ran straight into the forest and they stopped following me. I was there for one night. I took a small bag with all the important things – my bank book, my passport, all the survival things – and I had to shit on the way because I was scared. I take off the bag and put it next to me then, when I start running again, after half an hour, I think: ‘Where’s my bag?’ There are no lights, total darkness. Then I hear a voice – I don’t believe in God or anything – and I found the bag. There must be more between Heaven and Earth. I slept in the mountains and there was a very big lizard sleeping next to me. It was a great experience. It’s not something you do voluntarily: sleeping outdoors in Africa without a bag, sleeping with the monkeys. That’s the only way to experience Africa.

You once described the world as ‘a global village’ and said all borders should be opened.

Nationalism is a never-ending story. Now you have all this tribal shit, it’s about fear of the ‘other’. People cling together to oppose the things they’re scared of.

Does humanity have the capacity to ever get over that innate fear of the ‘other’?

When things go down, they can also go up. I’m optimistic about it because I know. In Holland, for example, when I was very young, they were scared of black people. They saw them as some kind of animal. It’s OK to see them naked in a picture: if you show a naked black lady in a traditional environment in nature, there’s nothing against it, but if you show a white lady in the same environment, it’s porn. On the other hand, there are now more and more mixed marriages. In Amsterdam, it’s mixed these days. People travel. I have friends in the Flemish bloc, a very fascist area, and most of them vote for or belong to that party, but they’re married to black women. In Thailand, they talk about Thai ladies as ‘monkeys’. You hear that a lot. Here as well. Still, they’re making children with them because they know they’re human. So does that make their children monkeys? ‘It’s different, because my child is my child.’ Of course it’s not different! The world will be a mixed thing, and if you throw everything in the mix, there’s no reason to discriminate any more. My children are dark-skinned. My grandfather was always warning me against black people or Jewish people, but now that his grandchildren come to visit – and they’re black – that racism has stopped. If people – who are all alike a little bit – were mixed, it’s harder to discriminate.

WHO: Peter Klashorst
WHAT: Art exhibition
WHERE: #29 Streets 130 & 5
WHEN: October 17 & 18
WHY: Witness in action an artist the New York Times called a ‘crazy Dutch guy’

Hun Sen: Portrait of a Wild Man

In the wake of the 1993 election, Second Prime Minister Hun Sen consolidated power in moves that would culminate in a seething 1997. A new book examines the extraordinary makings of Southeast Asia’s most infamous ‘Strong Man’. Exclusive preview, only in the Advisor.

AFTER TWO YEARS IN OFFICE, Prince Norodom Ranariddh found himself in a precarious position. His imaginary empire, founded on a remarkable victory at the election organised by the United Nations in 1993, was eroding away on every front. Royalist ministers now found themselves sitting in empty offices, “shuffling meaningless documents, attending vacuous meetings, reading newspapers.” Other officials from the Funcinpec party were growing unhappy at the fact their bosses had fewer jobs and posts to distribute than their counterparts in the Cambodian People’s Party (CPP), which had come second in the election but continued to hold effective power.

The party’s crisis peaked in November 1995, when Funcinpec Secretary-General Prince Norodom Sirivudh was arrested in connection with an alleged plot to assassinate Hun Sen, of the CPP. The charges against Sirivudh were dubious. Speaking with a journalist at a cocktail party, the jovial prince had reportedly joked about attacking Hun Sen’s motorcade with a grenade launcher. A few days later Sirivudh awoke to find his party chatter splashed across the front page of the New Angkor newspaper. Troops were deployed and Sirivudh was arrested at tank-point.

The National Assembly hastily convened for a closed-door session and stripped the prince of his parliamentary immunity. The vote was a unanimous 105 for and zero against; at Ranariddh’s request, every Funcinpec member present voted to condemn Sirivudh, who was locked up pending trial. Ranariddh later argued that he denounced his colleague and uncle in order “to save the Kingdom of Cambodia”. But the Sirivudh affair showed how powerless First Prime Minister Ranariddh had become, and how far he now had to bend in order to appease Hun Sen, who had blustered and bullied his way into equal billing as ‘second’ prime minister after the election and was now effectively in control of the government.

Hun Sen wasn’t in a mood for joking around. For much of the past year he had been cooped up in his heavily fortified compound at Tuol Krasang, close to the town of Takhmao, ten kilometres south of Phnom Penh. Here Hun Sen reportedly worked late into the night, chain-smoking 555-brand cigarettes, trusting few people outside his family and close circle of advisors. In a 1995 cable from the US Embassy, Ambassador Charles Twining described Hun Sen’s “near-obsession” with security. Even before the Sirivudh affair, he travelled about the country with around 60 armed bodyguards – more than any other government official.

By 1996 Hun Sen’s bodyguard unit had grown into a personal army of more than 1,000 men backed by tanks, armoured personnel carriers and helicopters. Up to 800 of these troops were based at Tuol Krasang – dubbed the ‘Tiger’s Lair’ by foreign journalists – who were supplemented by several hundred more men at a special CPP complex located behind his villa in the capital. Though technically part of the elite Brigade 70 of the Royal Cambodian Armed Forces (RCAF), Hun Sen’s bodyguards existed outside the military chain of command. In return they received salaries of around $300 per month – far in excess of the $13 received by normal soldiers.

In part, Hun Sen had built up his forces as insurance against Ranariddh, his nominal coalition partner, who commanded a formidable personal security force of his own. But Hun Sen’s bodyguards also provided him with insurance against challenges from within his own camp. Despite the CPP’s outward appearance of unity, its internal balance of power remained in flux. Though the 1993 election had marked a distinct shift from the faction of the CPP surrounding party president Chea Sim to a younger group of officials close to Hun Sen, his old party rivals retained much of their power. Chea Sim continued to control the National Assembly, and his brother-in-law Sar Kheng remained in charge at the Ministry of Interior. Both were closely linked to the RCAF commander-in-chief, General Ke Kim Yan, who had risen through the ranks in Battambang and was related to Sar Kheng by marriage. This web of alliances, rooted in the security forces and provincial administrations in Prey Veng and Battambang, posed a potential rearguard threat.

The discontent in the CPP came briefly to the surface on July 2, 1994, when armoured personnel carriers carrying around 300 troops based in Prey Veng were deployed westward toward Phnom Penh. Around 30 kilometres from the capital, the column was stopped by government forces and forced to return to barracks. Not a single shot was fired, but soldiers were deployed in Phnom Penh and the government immediately announced it had quashed an attempted coup. It later emerged the plot was spearheaded by General Sin Song and Prince Norodom Chakrapong, two CPP renegades who had languished on the political fringes since leading a secession of Cambodia’s eastern provinces in 1993. They found another willing co-conspirator in Sin Sen (no relation to Sin Song), who had commanded the ‘A-Team’ attack squads which had terrorised the CPP’s opponents under Untac. He, too, was apparently piqued at having been sidelined in the new government.

The aim of the coup was never entirely clear, but the foiled plot had significant political aftershocks. In the immediate aftermath, Hun Sen moved quickly against his factional rivals. Sin Song and Sin Sen were taken into custody. After an armed stand-off at a Phnom Penh hotel, Chakrapong was allowed to go into face-saving exile in Malaysia. Instead of deploying CPP forces to quash the coup, Hun Sen used Funcinpec and KPNLF men, and failed to notify Sar Kheng at the Ministry of Interior – both moves that suggested his lack of trust in his own party’s forces.

Implying their involvement in the coup, Hun Sen insisted to Chea Sim and Sar Kheng that he be allowed to nominate the next chief of the national police, a powerful institution which had been under Chea Sim’s control since 1979. The figure he chose was Hok Lundy, an old ally from Svay Rieng, who, after his appointment in September 1994, would report directly to Hun Sen. At the same time, Hun Sen’s small security detail began to expand into a personal army which lay outside the control of any state institution. It was a decisive turning point. Backed by the threat of ruthless force, Hun Sen now had the clout to reshape the Cambodian political landscape to his liking.

Within Funcinpec, Sirivudh’s arrest was the last straw. In January 1996, the party held a closed-door meeting in Sihanoukville at which it resolved to press for a larger share of power and begin building up its military wing to match Hun Sen. Characteristically, Ranariddh overcompensated. At the next Funcinpec party congress in March, he launched a blistering attack on the CPP, denouncing the coalition government as a “slogan”, an “empty bucket” that was beaten in the name of democracy. If the CPP didn’t make more concessions, Ranariddh threatened to dissolve the National Assembly and hold a new election “before the end of 1996”. The Funcinpec leadership failed to anticipate Ranariddh’s outburst. “It came out spontaneously,” one former royalist minister said. “He couldn’t bite his tongue.”

The CPP responded by accusing Funcinpec of using the issue of power-sharing as a pretext to create ‘political instability’ and confuse public opinion. CPP-controlled media outlets excoriated Ranariddh and began speaking of a ‘royal plot’ against Hun Sen. In a speech on April 27, Hun Sen ominously pledged to use force against any “coup to destroy the Constitution”. In contrast to Ranariddh and Sam Rainsy, leader of the opposition Khmer Nation Party (KNP), who both held dual French-Cambodian citizenship, Hun Sen painted himself as a true Khmer, a son of the soil who stood by the people and wouldn’t board a plane to Paris at the first sign of trouble. At the same time he threatened to pass legislation disqualifying dual nationals from public office. He warned his opponents: “Don’t say you are Khmer when it is easy and American when it is difficult.”

Just as the coalition began to fracture, a volatile new element was added to the mix. On August 9 Hun Sen announced that Ieng Sary, Pol Pot’s brother-in-law and the former Khmer Rouge foreign minister, had defected to the government, bringing with him not only a large portion of the Khmer Rouge fighting force – including the commanders Y Chhean (in charge of Division 415) and Sok Pheap (Division 450) – but also the gem- and timber-rich areas around the town of Pailin. After fighting on with Chinese backing throughout the 1980s, the Khmer Rouge had been in a slow decline since Untac. The movement was outlawed in mid-1994, and the Thai government finally began cracking down on exports from Khmer Rouge zones, choking off its finances. All the while, a steady trickle of defections turned into a cascade, as soldiers and their commanders, worn out from years of fighting, cut deals with the government.

Ieng Sary had always been the most flexible and slippery of the Khmer Rouge top brass; the one who most easily shed old revolutionary convictions. Sary had a taste for the finer things, like lobster thermidor, cognac and French perfume, which he indulged even as Cambodia suffered through years of civil war. Throughout the 1980s, he had enjoyed prominence because of his close ties with Beijing, but had lost influence when Chinese aid came to an end in 1991. The Khmer Rouge leadership in Anlong Veng were also suspicious of the great wealth he had amassed from Pailin’s gem mines and timber concessions. Faced with the enmity of his old comrades, Sary put out feelers to the government. On August 7, after word of the negotiations leaked out, Khmer Rouge radio denounced Sary as a ‘traitor’ who had embezzled millions in Chinese aid and collaborated with the ‘Vietnamese aggressors, annexationists, and race-exterminators’.

The defection dealt the Khmer Rouge a body blow; Sary took more than 3,000 soldiers with him, delivering to the government two base areas – Pailin and Malai – that years of armed offensives, including another RCAF loot-and-pillage mission during the 1996 dry season, had failed to secure. Sary’s reward consisted of a royal amnesty that overturned a death penalty handed down by a People’s Revolutionary Tribunal in 1979. His forces were incorporated into the national army and he was allowed to retain control of Pailin, where he returned to augmenting his vast and hidden wealth. Now just 2,000 Khmer Rouge remained in Anlong Veng, a remnant of bedraggled diehards professing loyalty to the triumvirate of Pol Pot, Nuon Chea and Ta Mok, a one-legged military commander who had led the purges of Democratic Kampuchea’s Eastern Zone in 1977 and 1978.

Pol Pot himself continued to live a will-o’-the-wisp existence. After government offensives in 1994, he had relocated to Kbal Ansoang, perched on the crest of the Dangrek Mountains, eight kilometres north of Anlong Veng. As his movement crumbled, Pol Pot retreated into the past, restaging his old revolution in a new form. Buddhist pagodas and markets that had opened in Khmer Rouge areas were shuttered. Trade with neighbouring areas was banned. Local farmers were rounded up and subjected once again to the miseries of collectivisation. In this way, Pol Pot tried to mimic the austere conditions that had led to his seizure of power in April 1975. Facing defeat, he hoped to conjure up a repeat of the movement’s lone triumph.

Ieng Sary’s defection also played into the fragile balance of power in Phnom Penh. For Funcinpec and the CPP, an alliance with the defecting Khmer Rouge forces suddenly loomed as a rich prize, a means of tipping the scales of power decisively in their favour. In late 1996 both prime ministers choppered into Pailin to woo Sary’s support. Hun Sen’s trip in October was a highly publicised affair in which the two former enemies grasped each other’s hands like long-lost friends and prayed together at a local pagoda. Hun Sen then laid on a feast at which government soldiers and their Khmer Rouge counterparts ate, drank and danced the lambada – a surreal coda to years of bloody conflict.

As 1997 dawned, Hun Sen’s relationship with Ranariddh reached another low. Horse-trading and alliance-building proceeded at a frenzied pace, as both parties cast an eye toward national elections due in mid-1998. Ranariddh announced the formation of a new political alliance with Rainsy and Son Sann, which he dubbed the National United Front. Two years after throwing Rainsy out of his party, Ranariddh now described him as “respected” and “beloved”. Rainsy didn’t much trust the prince, but described him as “the lesser of two evils” next to Hun Sen, who was “like someone from a different planet,” a “wild man” who trampled on democratic norms.

The Ranariddh–Rainsy–Son Sann axis was a potentially formidable bloc, a resurrection of the anti-Vietnamese and anti-communist alliance of the 1980s. The royalists, for all their failures, still drew on a deep well of support for Sihanouk, while the KNP’s support was soaring on the back of Rainsy’s anti-Vietnamese agitations and the party’s strong roots in a nascent labour union movement. As the political temperature rose, threats flew back and forth between the two prime ministers and skirmishes broke out between their personal bodyguard armies. In February, factional forces clashed in Battambang, leaving 14 CPP and two royalist soldiers dead. The two sides hovered on the edge of open warfare.

On the morning of March 30, 1997, Im Malen and two of her sons left their home in Phnom Penh and joined a group of KNP supporters in a march on the National Assembly. Malen was 55 years old. She was a nurse who ran a small clinic and pharmacy in a suburb of Phnom Penh. She had been a member of Sam Rainsy’s party since 1995 and admired the leader for standing up to the sorts of official corruption she had encountered while working at the Ministry of Health in the 1980s. The rally on March 30 wasn’t much different to others Malen had taken part in previously. Several hundred people gathered at KNP party headquarters and then proceeded on foot toward the parliament. Malen walked behind Rainsy as the crowd marched down leafy Street 240 behind the Royal Palace, coming to a stop in the park across the road from the National Assembly. It was a hot morning; the building’s spired roof rose to a pinnacle against a blue sky. Protesters held blue banners emblazoned with the words ‘Down with the Communist Judiciary!’

Rainsy began to speak, denouncing corruption in the courts. At around 8:25am, he finished his speech and handed the microphone to a female garment worker. A few seconds later there was a deafening explosion. Malen was thrown to the ground as three more blasts ripped through the crowd. “At first I didn’t realise I’d been hurt,” Malen told me. “I saw Mr Sam Rainsy, he escaped and got up. But what had happened to me? When I touched my back I felt a lot of blood.” Malen looked around. The dirt around her was streaked with red. Torn placards covered mangled bodies. Malen tried to get up but her legs didn’t respond. The police stood back. Why weren’t they doing something? One of her sons appeared. He had a gash on his cheek but was otherwise unscathed. He picked her up and took her by cyclo to hospital, steering the rickety pedicab through the traffic after its driver fled the scene in fear.

In the space of 15 seconds, four American-made M33 fragmentation grenades had transformed a peaceful gathering into a scene of carnage. The attack killed 16 people and injured more than 100. Some of the worst carnage took place around a sugarcane cart, where people had gathered to slake their thirsts in the rising morning heat. The target of the attack was Rainsy, who survived when one of his bodyguards shoved him to the ground and took the full force of the blast, which killed him instantly. After escaping the park, Rainsy held an impromptu press conference. “Hun Sen is behind this,” he declared, his suit still covered with blood and broken glass. “He is a bloody man. He will be arrested and sentenced one day.”

Hun Sen immediately denounced the grenade attack, but then went on to accuse Rainsy and the KNP of staging it themselves in order to smear the government. The police, he said, should “drag the demonstration’s mastermind by the neck to court”. At the rally, however, eyewitnesses reported the presence of around 15 heavily armed members of Hun Sen’s bodyguard unit, who were not usually deployed on such occasions. Not only did the troops fail to help the wounded; they also let the assailants pass through their cordon and flee to the CPP compound behind Hun Sen’s villa, blocking those who tried to pursue them. Similar claims were later echoed by the UN and human rights groups.

To satisfy international demands for an investigation, the government formed a committee filled with squabbling Funcinpec and CPP officials. Few people expected much to come of it, but there were hopes for a proper investigation from another direction. During the attack, Ron Abney, an American citizen and friend of Rainsy who headed the local office of the International Republican Institute, had been injured by a piece of grenade shrapnel. Under US law, the Federal Bureau of Investigation was authorised to probe any terrorist attack that killed or injured US citizens abroad. The FBI decided to become involved. It dispatched a team headed by Agent Thomas Nicoletti, who arrived in Cambodia on April 17. Within a month Nicoletti and his team had interviewed several dozen sources and identified three suspects. All the signs pointed to Hun Sen’s bodyguards.

For US officials, however, the case posed a political conundrum. Putting Hun Sen’s men on trial in the US could have explosive diplomatic ramifications. Kenneth Quinn, who succeeded Twining as ambassador in 1995, was particularly uncomfortable with pointing the finger at the CPP. He had a close relationship with Hun Sen dating back to the peace talks of the early 1990s. Like many other diplomats posted in Cambodia at the time, Quinn saw Hun Sen as a man who could get things done in Cambodia. Quinn spoke with Hun Sen in Vietnamese and felt he had a good rapport. As he later said, Hun Sen “had a lot of power and influence… he was somebody, along with others, who you would hope to shape”. Where the grenade attack was concerned, Quinn was anxious about the US burning its bridges with the CPP or getting sucked into Cambodia’s internecine political struggles.

Declassified files released under Freedom of Information laws and published by the Cambodia Daily in 2009 showed that at least one FBI official shared his concerns, fearing the probe could embroil the agency in a combustive political fight and jeopardise its relations with the CPP. So the FBI decided to pull the plug. Before he could complete his investigation, Nicoletti was ordered out of Cambodia. Political tensions between the CPP and Funcinpec had made his work difficult. Quinn also warned Nicoletti that his life had been threatened, supposedly by the Khmer Rouge. The withdrawal was supposed to be temporary, but Nicoletti was never sent back to finish the job.

Nicoletti later confirmed that his team had gathered “substantial” though incomplete evidence pointing to the involvement of the CPP’s security apparatus in the grenade attack. Declassified files provided further confirmation: key witnesses interviewed by Nicoletti all told similar stories about Hun Sen’s bodyguard soldiers, their deployment and the fact assailants were allowed to escape into the nearby military compound. But the results were never publicly released. When the FBI reported to the Senate Foreign Relations Committee in November 1998, it assigned no blame. According to additional files obtained by the Cambodia Daily, the most sensitive allegations were whited out of the FBI’s report after consultations with the Justice Department and the US Embassy in Phnom Penh. Congressional Republicans and Rainsy allies cried foul, but the FBI was not forthcoming. In 2005 the case was quietly closed.

Im Malen, meanwhile, never walked again. Now a withered 71-year-old with short-cropped silver hair, she moves about in a wheelchair donated by a Christian NGO, pushed by her grandson. Lacking an income of her own, Malen has been forced to survive on the charity of family and neighbours and a small monthly pension from Sam Rainsy’s party. Each year, like many others, she attends an annual ceremony commemorating those who died in the grenade attack, which transformed a call for impartial courts into a symbol of Cambodian injustice. “We didn’t have any arms,” she said. “We just came with paper banners.”

The grenade attack marked a steep deterioration in the political situation. By the middle of 1997, Australian Ambassador Tony Kevin recalled, Phnom Penh “was on a hair-trigger, just waiting for something to set it off”. Senior officials from both parties travelled through the city with motorcycle outriders armed with AK-47s and rocket launchers. Their homes were watched around the clock by armed guards, who eyed passers-by warily from machine-gun nests and barricades of sandbags. The government had virtually ceased to function, as the two premiers plotted out chess moves inside fortified compounds.

The final end-game revolved around the unfolding drama in Anlong Veng. After Ieng Sary’s defection, the remaining Khmer Rouge were still divided over whether to keep up the fight or seek accommodation with the government. The allegiance of those wishing to defect now became the subject of a new political courtship. In the meantime, Hun Sen redoubled his attacks on the royalists, attempting to bribe Funcinpec members of parliament to oust Ranariddh as first prime minister and put a more “friendly” figure in his place. In April, 12 renegade parliamentarians split from the party and declared for the CPP. The next month, troops loyal to the CPP seized a Polish arms shipment supposedly destined for Ranariddh’s bodyguard unit, triggering further fusillades of accusations.

As Funcinpec and the Khmer Rouge neared a political deal, the movement imploded. At midnight on June 9, seized by a final reflex of paranoia, Pol Pot ordered the killing of his defence chief, Son Sen, accusing him of treason. Son Sen was assassinated along with his wife, Yun Yat and 12 other people, including several small children, whose bodies were then run over with trucks. Pol Pot’s night of the long knives threw a diminished movement into turmoil. Angered by the brutal killings, Ta Mok rallied his forces at Anlong Veng and led a rebellion against Pol Pot, who was captured after he tried to escape into the jungle with a handful of supporters. Six weeks later, Pol Pot was put on trial by Ta Mok and sentenced to life imprisonment for the killing of Son Sen and other crimes against the leadership. The outdoor trial north of Anlong Veng was a bizarre spectacle, a phantasmagoric throwback to the grim mass meetings of the DK years. Groups of peasants raised their fists in unison, chanting ‘Crush! Crush! Crush! Pol Pot and his clique!’ as cadres lined up to denounce their old boss through a crackly loudspeaker wired to a car battery.

Nate Thayer, the one foreign journalist invited to witness the event, later described the Robespierre of Cambodian communism as a stooped shadow of a figure, drained of the charm and magnetism that had beguiled generations of disciples: “Slumped in a simple wooden chair, grasping a long bamboo cane and a rattan fan, an anguished old man, frail and struggling to maintain his dignity, was watching his life’s vision crumble in utter, final defeat.”

After Pol Pot’s arrest, Funcinpec and the remaining Khmer Rouge resumed their alliance talks. On July 4, when news leaked out that the two sides had finally reached a deal, Hun Sen took decisive action. At dawn the following day, his forces unleashed a lightning strike against the royalists. Pochentong airport was secured. Tanks growled along the capital’s wide boulevards. Gas stations were set ablaze and buildings across the city were damaged as the two sides traded artillery and tank fire. Thousands of residents fled the city in panic, while rattled opposition members scrambled to board flights out of the country or sought sanctuary at the homes of Western diplomats.

Hun Sen, vacationing at the Vietnamese beach resort of Vung Tau, returned to Phnom Penh to “take control” of the situation. The fighting came to a quick end after his arrival. By the afternoon of July 6, the Funcinpec headquarters and Ranariddh’s residential compound were both in CPP hands. Victory was followed by a wave of looting. Frightened civilians looked on as the military and police combed the city for booty, carting off cars, motorbikes, televisions and other appliances from shattered shop fronts. Even the departure halls at Pochentong airport were picked clean, right down to the departure ramps. The fighting caused an estimated $50 million in damage and gutted a tourist industry just recovering from years of chaos.

As the smoke cleared over the capital, Hun Sen stood alone…

Hun Sen’s Cambodia, by Sebastian Strangio, is due to be pulished on October 31 and will be available at Monument Books.

Going Loco: 24 hours in Cambodia’s Not-So-Little Latin America

Just last week you were idly sipping margaritas on a white-sand beach, and now you are back to the hassle and bustle of the city. As you struggle to readapt to your working schedule after the much-needed holidays, you might find yourself lacking the energy and motivation to drive you through the day, or even daydreaming of the next vacation.

But don’t worry! I have the solution to your woes; the remedy to your incipient pessimism brought about by the end of the good and the return of the routine. The best way to spice up your life, regain your joie de vivre, and, in the process, pump up your confidence: go Latino. Yes, Latino.

You’re about to embark on a one-day journey full of new culinary experiences, colourful drinkable concoctions, impassioned rock ‘n’ roll, and late-night dancing. Here’s my step-by-step guide to living the Latino way in Phnom Penh; a guide to the most seductive part of our beloved city: little Latin America.

Desination #1: Breakfast in Acapulco

Don’t just eat: savour the moment. Latino culture is molded by the drive to enjoy life. The very desire to relish the moment has created a rich and tasteful cuisine in every Latin American country. From meat-heavy Argentina to Mexico’s love for corn, beans and chili peppers, Latin America boasts myriad distinctive cuisines with influences from local ancient civilisations, European colonisers and 20th-century immigrants.

The first stop in our journey takes us to Mexico for breakfast. Alma Café (St. 123 & 454) is a small restaurant near the Russian market, run by a family from Acapulco. If authenticity is what you’re in the mood for, you cannot miss the scrumptious huevos rancheros ($4 with juice and coffee or tea) or the delightful fried chorizo quesadillas ($5). Ingredients brought directly from Mexico, a menu that changes daily (according to the cook’s inspiration), and small/big details like bottomless coffee ($1) are some of the many strong points, along with great food expertly and lovingly brought to you by Mexican chefs. All this explains why the little café has developed a strong following of faithful customers in a matter of months. What sealed the deal for me, however, was the café’s homely feeling, which momentarily transported me to the ‘Land of the Shaking Earth’.

Destination #2: To Bogota for some good old Latin rock

My visit to Alma Café coincides with the restaurant’s celebration of Mexican Independence. Walking along Street 454, I can hear loud Latin rock and the clamour of a large crowd. Inside the restaurant, the party is on: local band Bacano plays a popular Mana hit, while a dozen boozed-up spontaneous dancers bust some salsa moves in between the tables. The place is jam-packed and several would-be diners eagerly wait outside.

Bacano usually has this effect. I’ve seen them perform at Equinox, Latin Quarter and The FCC, always to an excited crowd that fills the place. Covering classic hits from Los Fabulosos Cadillacs, Jarabe de Palo, Carlos Vives, Elefante and other popular Spanish-speaking bands, the sextet’s steamy sound induces everyone to dance to its fusion of rock, salsa and reggae. Bacano may not be the only Latin band in the city, but they are the best established.

I have a chance to talk to Chino, Bacano’s founder and vocalist, about Latino culture in Phnom Penh. The Colombian singer and photographer believes it’s gaining momentum in the capital, as evidenced by the Latino restaurants and bars popping up around the city. Even among locals, Chino believes his culture is gaining popularity. To make his point, he recalls an advertisement tent, somewhere along Sihanouk Boulevard, that had loudspeakers blasting a Khmer version of Camisa Negra by Colombian super-star Juanes. The musician insists the two cultures are not as different as one might think: “The atmosphere in this city is very evocative of home, with its streets full of people and music; these streets, just like in Bogota, are so very alive.”

Destination #3: Lunch in Lima, Bogota and… Madrid

Make lunch tasteful and light by going for tapas at The Latin Quarter, on the corner of streets 178 and 19. Entering this magnificently colourful colonial building, I’m welcomed by fellow Spaniard Florian Lindener López and his Colombian wife, Andrea Posada Nieves. The couple took over the restaurant four months ago, creating a Spanish/Latin American fusion menu shaped by their respective cultures. With impressive educational and professional backgrounds and having worked in Spain’s most renowned culinary venues, including El Bulli and Arzak, they are bringing the best-known Latin American flavours into Phnom Penh’s competitive dining scene. Florian talks with the energy and enthusiasm of someone who loves what they do: “I chose the tapas concept because I have a passion for it,” he declares. “Tapas are fun. As a client, you get to try many dishes. As a cook, you get to explore new ideas.”

The 27-year-old is bent on revolutionising the city’s culinary culture. He recently taught his staff the extravagant and coveted ‘olive spherification’ technique, which he learnt at El Bulli, Ferran Adrià’s now defunct Michelin three-star restaurant. The elaborate process must be carried out with near-surgical precision: it involves extracting the juice of high-quality olives, mixing it with a precise amount of calcium lactate gluconate and xanthan, and carefully submerging spoonfuls of the mix into another mix of sodium alginate and water. After a few minutes, the alginate mix forms a solid screen that encapsulates the olive juice. The resulting green, gel-like pearls hold inside the most intense, concentrated olive-oil flavour ever conjured by human hands.

Florian’s innovations aren’t limited to fancy cooking techniques. He’s also going to great lengths to transmit to his staff all the wisdom he accumulated over the years pertaining to customer service and customer satisfaction. It shows: I’m delighted by the staff’s attention and care; a level of service that is hard to come by in Cambodia.

Although Florian affirms it’s definitely on the rise, Latino/Spanish cuisine has yet to establish itself firmly in the capital. While the concept of tapas is well understood and appreciated among the expat community and tourists, Khmer locals are still a bit flummoxed by this distinctively Spanish approach to food, the young chef confesses.

The Latin Quarter’s menu features items easily recognisable for Latin Americans and Spaniards, such as sea bass ceviche ($5.50), arepas ($4), patatas bravas ($3.50) and paella (small $25, big $45), but with a touch of refinement that will dazzle connoisseurs.

Destination #4: Dinner in Caracas

For dinner, let’s go to a country of overflowing natural riches. Venezuelan-run Tepui, #45 Sisowath Quay, belongs to the restaurant elite of Phnom Penh. It’s located at The Chinese House, a fascinating, one-of-a-kind building that combines Chinese architecture and French colonial styling. With a cocktail bar and art gallery on the first floor, Tepui is the ideal place to spend an evening of sophisticated indulgence.

Head Chef Gisela Salazar Golding masterfully plays with Latin American, Asian and European flavours and ingredients to create innovative and enticing fusion dishes. Traditional Latin American recipes like fajitas, arepas and ceviche are given a new and delicious twist. Ranchero mollet eggs ($6) reach a new level of bliss with the addition of red bean hummus, and the lamb shank ($24) is given a delectable touch of tamarind.

The founder of Tepui, Antonio López de Haros, is a well-known character. Tepui was his first venture in the city, followed by verdant restaurant Botanico GastroBar. “I don’t think ‘the Latino’ is in vogue”, he says over a craft beer. “It’s true that more and more Latino restaurants are appearing around town, but this is not a sign of our culture becoming more popular. What’s happening is that an increasing number of Latin Americans are moving into the city and starting restaurants or bars like the ones they have back home.”

Antonio orders two more locally brewed beers and starts describing in earnest his newest enterprise: the first Cambodian rum.

Destination #5: Stay in Caracas for the rum

Latin Americans know their booze. They invented the mojito, margarita, piña-colada, cuba libre and caipirinha, probably the most famous and widely consumed cocktails in the world. Just for that, they deserve credit for making the world a better place, but they also have some of the best rum in the world, rivalled only by that found in the neighbouring Caribbean.

After dinner, we linger in Venezuela to savour a glass of rum on the rocks. Antonio’s new rum enterprise is called Samai, which in Khmer means ‘modern’, ‘contemporary’ or ‘daydream’: an apt name for something never before produced in this land. The rum is made with Cambodian sugar cane, but following the traditional Venezuelan distillation process: a true child of both cultures.

Antonio and his partners, fellow Venezuelan Daniel Pacheco and Uruguay national Diego Wilkins, are going to great lengths to guarantee an outstanding rum. They’ve imported barrels from Jerez in Spain that were previously used to store Pedro Jiménez and Oloroso wines. In these barrels, Samai will age its premium rum, infusing it with a distinctive sweeter flavour. The first batch of this añejo will be released in 2018 at the earliest, but some will be allowed to age until 2022. Fortunately, you don’t have to wait that long. Now open to the public on Thursday evenings, the Samai Distillery occupies a charming building on Street 830, just off Sothearos Boulevard.

Destination #6: Cocktails around the continent

Our brief rum indulgence can best be complemented with (you guessed it!) more alcohol. We are looking for a place with great ambiance, and for that we return to The Latin Quarter.

Here, the bar offers masterpieces created by Adrian Battle, a top-notch bartender working in Singapore. The mojitos ($4.50) are superb, with just the right amount of rum and sugar to strike that elusive balance of pungent flavour and sweetness. You can also find less mainstream concoctions, such as the creamy and toothsome El Avocado, made with tequila and avocado ($4.50), and the oh-so-aromatic L’bpou Pumpkin Khmer ($4.50), with Red Label and pumpkin puree.

Classy and vintage, without being flashy, this colonial building, reminiscent of Habana, is the perfect place to sip on a mojito and smoke a cigar. As I drink a pisco sour, Florian brings me a couple of spherical olives, also known as ‘liquid olives’. One bite and it’s game over. Florian asks for feedback, but I’ve lost the ability to communicate: the only sensible thing to do is sit back and enjoy the acute flavour that’s just hijacked my senses.

Last stop: Dance in Habana

If indeed “dance is the hidden language of the soul”, as Martha Graham famously said, then few people in the world are as sensuous to the core as Cubans. It’s precisely in hot, exhilarating and sexy Cuba where we put an end to our journey across Phnom Penh’s little Latin America. And we go the best way there is: by dancing.

Although officially born in Los Angeles, salsa’s roots and soul are unmistakably Latin, with the Dominican Republic, Puerto Rico and Cuba the sources of much that inspired it. Much can be said to explain the sensuality that is inherent in salsa dancing, but I think Maite, my guitar teacher in Spain, put it best when she said: “There are two things a guy can do to make a girl fall head over heels: he can play guitar, or he can salsa.”

Think you don’t have what it takes to leave your mark on the dance floor? Think again. Latin dance teacher Olga Lazareva believes anyone can be a good dancer so long as they enjoy it. Together with husband Artemiy Lysykh, she conducts weekly LA-style salsa lessons ($5-$10) at The Groove on Street 282. In her soft yet distinctively Russian manner, she reveals how two Russians found themselves teaching salsa in Phnom Penh: “We were seasoned dancers in Moscow,” she says. “One day Artemiy got an offer from his IT company to relocate to Phnom Penh. We jumped at the opportunity of living in a new country.”

Here for just over a year, the couple has been teaching the ins and outs of Latin dance to expats, tourists and even locals. With backgrounds in discofox, classical dance and Latin dance, and a mastery of the technical elements of each, their lessons are rigorous, fun and entertaining.

It’s 8pm on a Monday and I enter The Groove for my first salsa lesson. I’m impressed: elegant and classy, with a piano in one corner, smartly dressed waiters, and black-and-white pictures of legendary musicians adorning the walls, the venue resembles a speakeasy from the roaring ‘20s. Wearing a brown T-shirt and holey jeans, I feel underdressed and out of place. As the other students arrive, an impressively international line-up assembles: Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Japan, Senegal, Gambia, The Philippines, New Zealand, France. There are more than 20 of us, with women making up the vast majority. And they’re dressed to impress, wearing long, shin-grazing dresses. The men sport collared shirts – half-open to expose hairy chests, as is de rigeur on such occasions – and suit pants or jeans (devoid of holes, unlike mine).

The class begins with Olga leading us in a tough stretching session. Her hips and shoulders, moving in opposite directions, impossibly draw an infinity symbol. In my pathetic attempt to emulate her, I end up resembling a convulsing corpse, or perhaps a purging cat. The Russian couple then engages in a long, visually striking and seemingly impossible pattern. After a few seconds of watching them spin and turn amid elaborate arm movements, it dawns on me that this is what we are actually going to learn today.

I grab the warm hands of my first dance partner, a French girl who has a full five centimetres on me. After a few minutes, I feel like the roles have been reversed: she’s definitely leading me. In my struggle to take back the lead and assert my masculinity (yes, ladies: it is belittling for a man to be led), I forget to lower my arm in a turn and accidentally elbow her on the cheek. The women rotate and I get my next partner: a petite Japanese girl. But I can see that I‘m already building a reputation for myself: she is visibly afraid and considering whether to hold my hands or skip me altogether to avoid an elbow to the eye.

By the end of the class, everyone has got the hang of what, in the beginning, seemed impossible. I’m also better at asserting my role as ‘leader’. For the final burst of the night, I’m paired with the tall French girl again. I hold her hands firmly and lead her with determination and a measure of what I like to think passes for grace. All eye sockets remain un-elbowed.

It’s at this point the place transforms into a full-on Latino fest, where couples gracefully pull elaborate strings of moves under the jealous gaze of those left in the bench. Sensuality reaches its apex when the DJ switches to bachata and the men move dangerously close to the women, gently nudging their crotches in time with the suggestive beat. The party rages until well past 1am – not bad for a Monday – and I grab a beautiful girl I’ve been eyening the whole night, attempting to seduce her by engaging in this ancient courtship ritual. I am no Cuban, but the moves I’ve learnt tonight from Olga and Artemiy might just do the trick…

Paint brush prince

He goes by the name ‘Chifumi’ and, although you might not know him in person, there’s a better-than-average chance you’re at least aware of his art. His murals can be found bringing colour and form to otherwise dreary corners of Phnom Penh and wider Cambodia. One is across the street from Top Banana; another down by Monivong Bridge and the Malaysian Embassy; another on an abandoned building in Kratie; some in Siem Reap, others in Pursat. And they all have one thing in common: the hands.

The artist’s obsession with all things manual extends beyond the mural, even incorporated into his name, which is French for the game known elsewhere as ‘rock, paper, scissors’: ingenious for someone who paints on rock, prints on paper, and does it all with the precision of a pair of pinking shears.

Born in Kiev and raised in the Upper Rhine Valley, this graduate in painting and art history didn’t always enjoy life at arts school. “Sometimes yes, sometimes no. You know the art part was really nice and the people were really nice, but the school part sometimes was not so nice.” He debuted his alter-ego in 2010 with his first piece, Tombula, which was interactive. The artist pasted up 80 screen prints in the three French cities of Strasbourg, Mulhouse and Colmar. Each had a ‘lotto ticket’, with winners gifted a screen print. The installation was so successful that he followed it with two more, each encouraging the audience to experiment with ‘psychogeography’. The discipline places the emphasis on playfulness and ‘drifting around’ urban environments, interacting with cities in a new way, reminiscent of Guy Debord and his Situation International in 1960s Paris.

Chifumi first found himself in Cambodia two years ago, after a trip to Vietnam. This self-confessed cyclist, artist and traveller has taken all three pursuits across the 14 countries on which he’s left his artistic mark, but Cambodia, he says, is different. “You have to ask and receive permission before painting can begin,” says the 27-year-old.“The municipality is completely against it, and I don’t use cans, I use brushes, so it takes a lot longer. There’s no way I could quickly do a piece.”

Chifumi’s latest piece is to be found by the Malaysian Embassy, near Monivong Bridge. His canvas: a wall in front of a house. “The homeowner had a garden in front of the wall, which was a huge point of discussion. After many meetings the home owner told us ‘yes’ the wall could be used at a price of $5 to cover the cost of the garden.” And with that it took two days to transform drab bricks into art, bearing his signature hands.

But Chifumi doesn’t sign his work. Instead, these elegantly Apsara-esque, ubiquitous hands serve as the artist’s autograph. Hands, he explains, “link back to the origin of man. The first paintings by humans were all done using hands and fingers. They used these paintings to communicate and that is what I try to do as well.”

And what of the message he’s trying to communicate? Purely apolitical, he insists. “I don’t feel that I have a right to voice my opinions; they don’t matter. I am not here to get involved in politics. I am here to better understand the world around me. My art allows me to meet people and start discussions. If those discussions or topics turn political then that’s what happens, but my art is about activism.”

And herein lies the reason Chifumi was drawn to street art in the first place, driven by a passion for the street, its culture and its people. The artist may sell the paintings he completes on paper, but his street art is free-of-charge, for everyone to enjoy. When Chifumi first sets about tackling a new space in the public domain, onlookers react shyly, almost nervous about what he is doing for fear of how others might respond. As the piece progresses, those same people will stop to talk with him, drinking in his creation.

His goal in Cambodia is to inspire Cambodian street artists, but not so much that they or their streets become “drowned in Western style”. “In the past seven years, Cambodian street art has grown. I hope that my work will foster more growth for Cambodian street artists to find their own style that’s representative of their culture, their people and their stories.”

Two days after Chifumi finished painting an abandoned house in the middle of an empty lot, in front of the Mekong and next to KTV, I too found myself in Kratie. The only other thing that existed on the plot was a pieced-together shack a family and its dogs had taken up residence in, right behind the abandoned building-cum-canvas. I asked the artist if he knew them. “What family? There was a family there when you went? That family wasn’t there when we were there and you came only two days after us. Such is Cambodia: so quick!”

Chifumi works in stencils, painting and, his favourite, etching. In April, he begins the next chapter in his career, which he says involves Europe, Asia, paint and his bicycle.

Celluloid dreams

Ten days, 70 films and almost as many nationalities: it can only be the Phnom Penh Imternational Film Festival, a visual feast celebrating feature films, documentaries and short films by independent filmmakers from all over the world ($2 per screening session, all-access pass $20). Ladies and gentlemen of the audience, allow us to introduce The Advisor’s ultimate guide to PPIFF 2014,

FRIDAY 12

@ Meta House, #37 Sothearos Boulevard:

7:30pm: Opening receptio
8pm: Scars Of Cambodia

It’s 5am. We’re at a small fish market in Cambodia. We follow Tut, a 50-year-old fisherman, on his way back to his house.Tut changes clothes, smokes a cigarette, absent. Then he writes, using the water on his wooden terrace, the date he was imprisoned by the Khmer Rouge régime. Tut was 15. Among daily life scenes, he mimes the tortures he underwent. Directed by Alexandre Liebert (France).

8.45pm: Imagine
A paramedic lives under a cloud of guilt after failing to prevent his daughter from drowning. In an experiment, he revisits her in a dreamlike world. Through this healing process, memories once filled with guilt begin to speak truth – and the paramedic becomes convinced he has the ability to change the past. Directed by Jonathan Steven Green and Jahanara Saleh (US).

9.30pm: Sayang Disayang (‘My Beloved Dearest’) A live-in nurse working for a bitter old man tries to cook a dish exactly like the one by the man’s late wife, but success eludes her. Despite this, she sings all day in the kitchen, which serves only to irritate her employer further. What is the elusive ingredient that can unlock the tension between them, remedy their damaged hearts and help them live in harmony? Directed by Sanif Olek (Singapore).

SEPTEMBER 13 – 21
@ The Flicks1, #39b St. 95; The Flicks2, #90 St. 136, and The Flicks3,#8 St. 258:

SATURDAY 13
2pm: Short Films Session:

Legend Of The Chained Oak: When a local writer begins to investigate a mysterious chained oak, the chance find of a 17th-century journal throws a new and terrifying light on a popular legend. Accounts of human sacrifice, witchcraft and warnings of a curse litter the tattered pages. As he digs deeper, a series of chilling events suggest the horrifying claims made in the book may hold an element of truth. Directed by Mark Mooney and George Watts (UK).

The Wrong: Students, having violated school rules by smoking, go on a ‘voluntary service’ trip. Sang-hee encounters a sensitive problem while helping a disabled girl and is ridiculed by his teacher and friends. Directed by Taegue Lim (Republic of Korea).

Silent Spring: Fifteen-year-old Tina lives in an orphanage where she’s treated harshly. One day, the kids are taken to the theatre. Watching the play, Tina decides to run away and meets a lady who introduces her to a whole new world. Directed by Antoine Nassif (Lebanon).

Cryo: When a journey to another planet goes horribly wrong mid-flight, an engineer finds herself fighting to ensure the future of mankind. Directed by Luke Doolan (Australia).

Buy 1 Get 1 Free: Conscience-free enterprise The Only Group sells tainted food and runs dialysis centres where patients watch 24-hour news while eating tainted lollipops, but will the authorities take action? Directed by Chia-Ho Tai (Taiwan).

Shadow Tree: When a Zanzibari boy finds a fish in muddy water, the challenge of keeping it alive pushes him in an unexpected direction. Directed by Biju Viswanath (Tanzania).

4pm: Past Their Prime
A look at the world of geriatric zoo animal care, through Colo – the oldest living gorilla in captivity – on her 55th birthday. Directed by Becca Friedman (US).

Just Play
A film about the men and women working with Al Kamandjati, a Palestinian cultural association conducting a music education programmein the West Bank, and their difficulties transforming music into a means of freedom and liberation. Directed by Dimitri Chimenti (Italy).

6pm: Dear Courtney
Driven by his unrequited love for the most popular girl in school, Paul Thomas writes the song of his life. The song doesn’t help him with his beloved, but it does seempromising enough to send to the world’s leading record companies – and hes shocked when he discovers his song a few months later on the albumNevermind, by Nirvana. Directed by Rolf Roring (Germany).

8pm: Sayang Disayang (‘My Beloved Dearest’)
SUNDAY 14

2pm: Truká: In The Name Of TheEnchanteds
A documentary about the Truká people, who live on the São Francisco River in the north-east of Brazil. Their story is that of indigenous people the world over: a story of colonisation and oppression, but also of resistance and courage. Directed by Thomas Toivonen (Sweden).

Just Play
4pm: Imagine
Caroline Of Virginia
A fairytale about the things we take forgranted. After a deaf woman befriends a musician, she wakes up the following morning to find her hearing restored. It seems a blessing, but the gift is only temporary and it’s all at the musician’s expense. Directed by Eric Norcross (US).

Ripple
He has a dead-end job. He has a dead-end life. He has a dead body, stuffed in his refrigerator. A man finds purpose in his life while attempting to cover up an accidental murder. Directed by Christian Everhard (US).

6pm: Short Films Session:
Bucket: After a devastating discovery, a young man contemplates suicide before an abandoned baby catches his eye. Faced with taking care of it until the police arrive, he recruits his former best friend, but things are far from simple. Directed by Gabriel Robertson (UK).

Look At Me: Marcos, a workaholic, is forced to the countryside for a family celebration. After an incident on the road, he seeks refuge in an abandoned house, but witnesses strange events that suggest he is not alone. Directed by Nicolas Fernández (Argentina).

Ego Zombie: A girl is restless over the loss of a friendship, but an apology doesn’t seem possible. Directed by James Stallworth (Germany).

One Way Or Another: Ari is a Kurdish writer who lives in London having left behind his wife and son in the war. Writing his novelette, he’s nervous, deleting most of the events in his life. Directed by Naz Salih (UK).

Crippen: The name Dr Crippen still resonates, more than 100 years after his wife’s murder became an international sensation. Directed by Stephan Parent (Canada).

Recommended Reading: When you’re tongue-tied over a pretty girl, it helps to have timeless authors spell it out for her. Directed by Kenny Rigsby and Justin Reese (US).

No Bread: Luis, 72, owns a small grocery store that suffers a downturn when a supermarket sets up in its neighbourhood. Directed by Macarena Monros (Chile).

Spring Has Passed By: The winds of change have passed by and were called the Arab Spring. He’s a man swept by those winds that took all that was dear, leaving him with only remnants imprinted on his soul. Directed by Eva Daoud (Bahrain).

8pm: Koan Of Spring
Master Truong is nearing the end of his life, but has yet to find his emperor’s successor – and the country is preparing for war. Furious, the emperor gives Truong two weeks to find one so he visits a famous general who disappeared to become a simple fisherman with his two children. Truong has finally found the right successor, or has he? Directed by Lou Ma Ho (Republic of Korea).

MONDAY 15

4.30pm: Koan Of Spring
6:30pm: Short Films Session:

Black Night: As part of a dare, a high-school student finds himself alone at night in a cemetery, searching for an ancient grave by the light of his torch. Directed by Jean Luc Baillet (France).

Silent Spring: Fifteen-year-old Tina lives in an orphanage, where she is treated harshly. One day, the kids are taken to the theatre. While watching the play, Tina decides to run away and meets a lady who introduces her to a whole new world. Directed by Antoine Nassif (Lebanon).

No Matter How Far: In an alternate present, the world is in conflict: intercontinental travel has been banned, separating millions of families. One husband and wife, separated by a hemisphere, work to reunite. Directed by Kenny Rigsby and Justin Reese (US).

The Thief And The Windchime: A thief breaks into a house and encounters an old man. Both discover there can be unexpected treasure in what is taken and what is given. Directed by Biju Viswanath (India).

My Dinner With Andrea: A lonely young man accepts a dinner invitation from the girl of his dreams, only to face the stuff of nightmares. Directed by Hernan Moreno (Canada).

The Unforgettable Pianist: A famous French pianist is about to give a concert when strange events start to happen, suggesting he has a serious problem. Directed by Josep Antoni Ribas Rossello (Spain).

Cockatoo: A man with a broken heart tries to relive his failed relationship by hiring a young actress to play his ex-girlfriend. If only she could get the accent right. Directed by Matthew Jenkin (Australia).

Fly On Out: Follows 11-year-old Dayvon after he rescues a caged pigeon from two older boys on a Brooklyn rooftop. Pursued by the boys, Dayvon must weave his way through the diverse streets of Bed-Stuy Brooklyn, passing by true-to-life neighbourhood characters. Directed by Robert Kolodny (US).

8.30pm: Sodium Party

Follows Claire through a harrowing childhood to university, where she meets a frequently intoxicated photographer who exposes her to real life through a cocktail of love and drugs. Directed by Michael McCudden (Ireland).

TUESDAY 16

4.30pm: Anni Felici (‘Those Happy Years’)

A narcissistic artist finds his world turned upside-down in the wake of a disastrous exhibition and his previously devoted wife’s extramarital inclinations. Directed by Daniele Luchetti (Italy).

6.30pm: Short Films Session:

Lotus: A wounded soldier is saved by the goddess of nature and the two fall in love, but soon encounter a dilemma between love and responsibility. Directed by Rose ‘Rong’Luo (Canada).

Shame And Glasses: Mirko faces his worst fear: wearing glasses, the only way to do his school test, but what if the girl he is secretly in love with sees him? Directed by Alessandro Riconda (Italy).

Byoyancy: Hoping to turn his life around, Jake suddenly finds himself in a dangerous situation. An ageing bail-bondsman offers help, but what ensues is a complicated mix of secrets and lies that threatens to destroy the life of one man and the soul of another. Directed by Ryan Surratt (US).

God By The Neck: It’s Sunday and Pablo, eight, has an invitation to a very special but forbidden birthday party. It’s Sunday and, for the first time, Pablo is going door-to-door preaching with his mother. Directed by José Trigueiros (Spain).

Double Occupancy: Two men share a hospital room, in which the window is the only connection to the outside world. Directed by Fabian Giessler (Germany).

The Last American Shoemaker: An Ecuadorian immigrant who has served his community as a cobbler for 40 years faces the challenges of globalisation. Directed by Joseph Anthony Eulo (US).

The Cell: On the day of a terrorist attack in London, five strangers receive the same text message: ‘At 9pm we flip the switch.’ All have experienced loss and have reasons to hate, but why are they planning the attack? Directed by Ben Hyland (UK).

Sugar: A woman in a Parisian café sees someone unwrapping a sugar cube and remembers how she collected them at home in Sarajevo, but then the war began. Directed by Oliver Langewitz (Germany).

The Story Of Happy: One day, a kid named Happy is given a mission by his boss: deliver some marijuana. Directed by Ronaldo S Vivo Jr (Philippines).

8.30pm: Naseman (‘The Snuggle’)

Amon Ghoshal is a sensitive young Bengali boy from a family of farmers. In Kolkata to pursue a PhD in Nanoparticles, his real ambition is to travel the world on foot. When he meets a Pakistani girl, the pair fall in love. Everything seems perfect, until Mumbai comes under terrorist attack. Directed by Sounak Mukhopadhyay (India).

WEDNESDAY 17

4.30pm: Short Films Session:

Safe Room: A nuclear scientist in the 1950s is leading a team in the creation of an infinite source of energy. One day, the reactor they’re building goes haywire, creating a chain reaction that ends life on Earth as we know it. Directed by Nick Levanti (US).

Motherly: A blind mother searches for her disabled son in a park to find out if the girl he is dating is beautiful or not. Directed by Navid Nikkhah Azad (Iran).

The Real Thing: Teen comedy about a university student and his relationship with a sexy poster-girl on his wall. Directed by Yamil Julian Cure (UK).

Four-Leaf Clover: A girl questions life after being forced to marry her rapist. Directed by Hakan Berber (Turkey).

Letter To My Widow: A young man decides to give up on his wife. Directed by Jasmin Rexhepi (Iceland).

½ Sold: A brief encapsulation of a past not far removed from our present, or homage to Surrealist film and the social absurdity it rode in on. Directed by Michael Westbrook (US).

Balcony: A boy sits on the edge of a fourth-floor balcony. Terrified onlookers call for help, but the situation becomes unmanageable. Directed by Lendita Zeqiraj (Kosovo).

Unnatural: A man and a young lesbian are party friends, until their relationship turns into a one-way passion. Directed by Thor Schenker (France).

6.30pm: Driving Blind

Two brothers suffering from a rare genetic disease decide to take the road trip of a lifetime around the US, seeing everything possible before the condition robs them of their sight.Directed by Brian James Griffo (US).

8.30pm: Anni Felici (‘Those Happy Years’)

THURSDAY 18

4.30pm: Dear Courtney
6.30pm: Imagine
Caroline Of Virginia
Ripple
8.30pm: Favour

Kip’s perfect life is put in jeopardy when the waitress with whom he’s having a casual fling is accidentally killed in their motel room. Directed by Paul Osborne (US).

FRIDAY 19

4.30pm: Sayang Disayang (‘My Beloved Dearest’)

6.30pm: Iraqi National Symphony Orchestra

It was achievement enough that the Iraqi National Symphony Orchestra managed to survive the darkest days of the war, when it struggled for supplies and electricity, when its members fled for safety abroad and those who remained practiced in secret for fear of offending militants who considered music un-Islamic. A study of Iraqi music culture since the orchestra formed in the 1940s. Directed by Firas Sameer (Iraq).

8.30pm: Don’t Be Tired

A Canadian couple with their own disputes face a problem in Iran with the tourism institute: a former employee of the hotel where they’re staying has plans for them. Heart-warming tale of dialogue among nations during a road trip through Iran’s rarely seen landscapes. Winner of the Audience Award at the 2013 London Iranian Film Festival.Directed by Afshin Hashemi and Mohsen Gharaie (Iran).

SATURDAY 20

2pm: Iraqi National Symphony Orchestra

4pm: Short Films Session:

Anjaan (‘The Stranger’): A wife is waiting for her husband to return home when a policeman arrives on her doorstep. She’s given the news of her husband’s death and invites him inside for dinner, where conversation leads to something more. Directed by Hira Tariq (Pakistan).

7 Minutes: Marc and Ginny are determined to handle their break-up like civilised adults, but their adolescence emerges when a party game forces them into a closet to confront their mutual hatred and sexual tension. Directed by Carlos Michael Hagene (US).

Singular: Awakening ain’t easy when it depends solely on you. Small things become great feats: breathing, walking, smiling. A film about loneliness after a break-up. Directed by Pol Turrents (Spain).

Little Darling: Two kids at the top of a skyscraper. A view of the sea. He is Tom Sawyer and she is Alice in Wonderland. They walk along the edge of the roof, doing everything they’re not supposed to. In that hot summer, left in the care of her grandmother, Alice will feel love for the first time. Directed by Igor Mirkovic (Croatia).

VHS – Victor Home System: Victor pirates movies on VHS for a criminal organisation, but risks selling tapes out of the loop… until he meets his neighbour, who questions his lifestyle. Directed by Lucas Coimbra (Columbia).

Captain Sandy: A girl asks for help from her parents to find the start button on her toy spaceship to go to the Moon. Directed by Eren Ozsan (US).

Shortcut: A Jewish insurance salesman in the middle of nowhere gets a lift from an Iraqi Muslim. Their journey reveals cooperation despite their cultural conflicts. Based on Anton Chekhov’s Overseasoned. Directed by Awat Namiq Agha (UK).

Boonrerm: Boonrerm is a housemaid who every day receives weird orders. Directed by SorayosPrapapan (Thailand).

6pm: Ainu, Pathways To Memory
A documentary about the Ainu people in Japan, erased from history books and scarred by discrimination. Directed by Marcos P Centeno (Spain).

8pm: Aramnesia
A man wakes up on the floor of an apartment, with no memory, to discover he’s being chased. Directed by Eleutherios Kakathimis (Cyprus).

SUNDAY 21

2pm: Short Films Session:
Legend Of The Chained Oak
The Wrong
Silent Spring
Cryo
Buy 1 Get 1 Free
Shadow Tree

4pm: Short Films Session:

Way In Rye: A Soviet farmer and his wife must protect a crate evacuated from Leningrad while awaiting news from their son fighting on the front. Directed by Goran Stankovic (US).

Remember? Léo and Victor share memories, and the choices that led them to this last confrontation. More than a discussion between friends, the movie transports us to a crucial time in French history. Directed by Virginie Schwartz (France).

Last Penalty: The penalty kicker is about to kick the last goal. All the memories, emotions and important decisions in his life come to mind, bringing the story to an unexpected end. Directed by Max Miecchi (Italy).

Mouth Wide Open, Ears Shut Tight: A day in the life of a silent, lonely young woman with her friend, the fish. The silence is broken when a new tenant moves into the apartment next door and she finds herself falling in love.Directed by Tom Madar and Emily Noy (Israel).

Time Traveller: Experimental video examining existential themes such as facticity, alienation and the importance of choice in life. Directed by RomanePetiot (Cambodia).

6pm: Short Films Session:

Safe Room
Mother
The Real Thing
Four-Leaf Clover
Letter To My Widow
½ Sold
Balcony
Unnatural

8pm: Reflection Of Maya Rose
Fortune turns for young actress Maya Rose when she auditions for a screenplay, The Reflection And The Mirror. It tells the story of Ava and Scott, lovers trying to transcend time and space by means of a mirror. Maya is mesmerised by Ava’s character, but the audition sets off strange occurrences that lure her into an unfamiliar world. Paranoia drives her to the edge of sanity. “Reflections Of Maya Rose is a film that celebrates curiosity and the mysterious beauty of the unknown and the ambiguous”, says director Alexandra Wedenig (US). Winner of the Golden Lion Award at the Barcelona Film Festival in Spain.

The way of the warrior

Asia’s largest mixed martial arts event is kicking open the doors for a new generation of Khmer fighters, but are they ready?

…..

US senator John McCain has likened the sport of mixed martial arts to human cock-fighting. And there is no denying its brutality. The point is, after all, to beat your opponent unconscious. Cuts, bruises, broken bones and concussions are common.

Like sex, violence sells – and sells big. In the span of a few short years, MMA has rocketed from relative obscurity into a full-blown worldwide sensation. The sport’s two largest promoters now dominate a global market worth billions.

Ultimate Fighting Champion, the industry leader, began in 1993 as a single event in the United States. UFC now beams regular pay-per-view shows to more than 130 countries in 22 languages. The company is reportedly worth upward of $2 billion, making it the most valuable sports franchise on the planet, surpassing the New York Yankees baseball team and Manchester United football club.

UFC’s Asian rival, the Singapore-based ONE FC, controls 90% of MMA markets across Asia. Through deals with ESPN, Fox and Star Sports, the ONE FC promotion broadcasts to more than 70 countries and counts more than a billion viewers. The sport hit Cambodian airwaves in early 2013, broadcasting on CTN affiliate MyTV.

Now, after 18 months of watching the brutal television spectacle, Cambodian fans will get a chance to see the real thing come September 12, when ONE FC arrives at Koh Pich Theatre with its multi-million dollar leviathan. Titled ONE FC: Rise of the Kingdom, the card comprises five international and five local bouts, including a four-man grand prix.

For Cambodian fighters and fight fans, the night offers a chance to finally bask in MMA’s big-money pomp and pageantry: at the global top end, the sport offers lucrative promotional deals, valuable sponsorships and jaw-dropping pay cheques. But down in the local trenches, where air-conditioned gyms are unheard of, the training is brutal, the paydays are meagre, and the modern world of fight science may as well be written in Martian.

Most importantly, the local matches guarantee a Khmer will win on a ONE FC card, something that has eluded the Kingdom’s fighters in five attempts so far. For the eight Cambodian fighters on the card, all of whom are making their ONE FC debut, it also means the biggest payday of their respective careers. Fighters are guaranteed $1,000, plus a thousand more if they win.

By contrast, big-name fighters in Kun Khmer, the Kingdom’s traditional kickboxing style, typically earn between $80 and $100 for local bouts and occasionally as much $200 or $300 for international matches. Local MMA fights pay better, around $150 regardless of outcome.

Yet as hefty as a $2,000 winning purse may appear, it pales next to the One Warrior Bonus, a whopping $50,000 cash prize awarded to any combatant who can suitably impresses ONE FC boss Victor Cui with his or her “warrior spirit”.

Oh, yes. Her. Girls fight, too.

“I can’t wait,” says Tharoth Sam, a 24-year-old female fighter known as Thalon Thon (‘Little Frog’), about her ONE FC debut. Sam trains at the Afighter Team gym, one of only three MMA clubs in the country. A native of Banteay Meanchey, Sam found her way to the cage after years of training in Bokator, the Kingdom’s traditional martial art, and fighting Kun Khmer.

“In Bokator, some girls think it’s too dangerous,” she says about fighting in the ring or cage. “But I wanted to use what I had from Bokator in a real fight, to see what I can do, to see how confident I am.”

The art of killing

The roots of Bokator stretch back to the time of King Jayavarman VII and the Angkorean Empire. History suggests that ancient Khmer dominance of Southeast Asia was due in large part to the Kingdom’s superior battlefield skills. The Angkorean army used Bokator in hand-to-hand combat, and the ancient discipline incorporated striking, weapons and ground-fighting techniques.

Bokator is widely believed to be the predecessor of modern Kun Khmer. Bas reliefs at the Angkor and Bayon temples depict warriors striking with elbows and submitting opponents with choke holds and arm locks. Proponents point to such carvings as evidence of the Khmer’s innate warrior heritage and, like Angkor itself, the art taps deep into the national identity.

Like many traditional martial arts, however, the true history of Bokator is shrouded in mystery and lore. If ever there was a written record, it disappeared during the Pol Pot regime.

A new Bokator began re-flourishing in the mid-2000s under the direction of Grandmaster San Kim Sean, the art’s most vocal evangelist. The grandmaster spent months canvassing the country in search of old teachers and new students.

Cambodia held its first modern Bokator championship at Olympic Stadium in September 2006. Practitioners mostly competed in forms and weapons demonstrations. Deadly battlefield techniques do not easily transition to competitive sport, the grandmaster says. What little actual fighting occurred took place on wrestling mats. Competition was confined to a large circle. Fighters wore traditional loin cloths, with only kramas wrapped around their heads and hands, no gloves. A drummer beat out hypnotic rhythms tracing the ebb and flow of the action.

Only men fought, and at the lower levels the fighting looked a lot like a schoolyard donnybrook. Competitors were often badly off balance and swinging wildly from the hips. Whatever claims Bokator makes to being a complete art, fighters were not allowed to compete on the ground for more than a few seconds. Even at the highest levels, the champions looked merely like novice Kun Khmer fighters.

That was admittedly the first year. But Bokator still has yet to establish itself as a viable combat style, much to the frustration of its supporters. “The ground fighting in Bokator is extremely weak compared to Brazilian jiujitsu and wrestling,” says MMA fighter Antonio Graceffo, who holds a Bokator black krama (equivalent to a black belt in other disciplines). Jiu jitsu and wrestling have heavily influenced the ground-fighting styles of modern MMA. Bokator supporters believe that, with proper training and support, their art could hold its own against those disciplines. And among the faithful, there still smoulders the dream that someday soon Khmer fighters and the Bokator style will take their rightful place among modern mixed martial arts.

Little Frog, for one, is not giving up. “Some people say that Bokator trainers can only dance and perform, that it’s not for real fighting,” she says. “Those kinds of words motivate me. I’m going to show those people: Bokator is not just for dancing, not only just for performing; we can fight, too.”

A boy from Brooklyn

Chan Reach was born in the US to Cambodian parents on 13 June 1988, and grew up in Brooklyn. Raised by his grandmother and an uncle, Reach doesn’t remember a time when he wasn’t involved in the fight game. He began training with his uncle at an early age, started fighting Kun Khmer around 16 and moved into wrestling then jiu jitsu and MMA after that.

As he grew older, Reach made regular visits to the Kingdom. He moved permanently to Cambodia in December 2012, taking the position of head trainer at the newly formed Afighter Team gym in Phnom Penh. He is one of four fighters in the ONE FC grand prix.

“When I was in the States, I always wondered: Cambodia, we have fighters, we’re freakin’ born fighters. Why don’t I see enough Cambodians in MMA?” he said. “As a matter of fact, I didn’t see any at all. So I decided to just quit my job, leave everything behind and come here to bring MMA to Cambodia.”

Reach was not alone in his ambitions and, when he landed, Dave Minetti at the K1 Fight Factory was busy with similar ideas, too. The former French legionnaire was looking for Khmer fighters to train in MMA striking and grappling. He was drafting rule books, designing logos and collaborating with Vath Chamroeun, secretary general at the National Olympic Committee, to create an official MMA governing body.

There were others, too. Across town at CTN, the station’s well-known head of sports, Ma Serey, had been trying for years to get Bokator on television. He had even run a few untelevised dress rehearsals, but there simply weren’t enough quality fighters to make weekly bouts viable.

Encouraged by his general manager and backed by the station’s powerful owner, Kith Meng, Serey was now pushing to get MMA onto his airwaves. But almost nothing was going his way.

“I contacted Bokator,” said Serey of those early forays. “But Vath Chamroeun said it was impossible. ‘We cannot do it because there is a lack of fighters. We cannot find fighters for every week.’”

He spoke next with the president of the Cambodian Boxing Federation, the influential body that oversees Kun Khmer and professional and amateur boxing. “I went to see Tem Moeun, but he also refused. He was afraid of Bokator, of Vath Chamroeun, because MMA is not under his responsibility; he’s only Kun Khmer.”

With no fighters or sanctioning body, Serey was stuck. The others were facing different but seemingly impossible challenges, too. Over at K1, Minetti, who was now technical director of the newly established Cambodian Mixed Martial Arts Association, was short on quality students. And while Afighter Team had managed to attract a dozen or more brand-name Kun Khmer fighters, converting them to MMA was proving more time consuming than originally planned. But none of that mattered, because for all the men’s efforts, without a sanctioning body, without rules and referees, fighting was exactly what Vath Chamroeunsaid it was: impossible.

Quitting, however, wasn’t really an option. “‘Bong Serey, We must do it,’” implored the station’s General Manager Pol Vibol. “’I like it. Even the oknha [Kith Meng] likes it and supports us and wants this to happen. You must make it happen.’”

In previous years CTN had found success with a reality series called Kun Khmer Champion. The show pulled 16 fighters together to live and train. Through regular bouts, the pack was whittled down to two final contenders, with the winner of the ultimate match crowned the season champion.Serey put out an open call for fighters and quickly gathered two-dozen strapping young men in three weight classes: 57, 60 and 65kg.He modified the show’s format to cater for cage fighting and called it Kun Khmer Warrior Champion. To kick off the inaugural season, CTN scheduled two international cage fights as part of the station’s massive 10-year anniversary celebrations at Koh Pich.

Behind the scenes, however, negotiators at CTN and the newborn CMMAA had failed to reach consensus over referees and sanctioning fees. Tem Moeun and the Boxing Federation, sensing a second chance, quickly stepped in and agreed to sanction the bouts.

So on the night of 8 March 2013, Serey stood in the middle of a six-sided ring – a full cage couldn’t be built in time – and delivered an elaborate explanation of the new sport to thousands of onlookers. Not once did he mention MMA.

Backstage, Chan Reach wrapped the hands of Say Teven. Beside him, Little Frog offered words of encouragement. But both knew – in fact, everyone knew – that the two Cambodian fighters were heading towards near-certain defeat.

Minutes later, Chuth Chunlee tapped under a barrage of punches from the mounted position at 3:42 in the first round. Teven, a durable veteran from Siem Reap, made it to the second stanza, when he tapped to an arm bar with 1:15 left. Quietly people complained, but few dared openly criticise Serey or CTN.

Fight club

The Cambodian MMA Association officially launched four days later with a small press conference on the second floor of the National Olympic Committee building. If the pre-launch CMMAA remained muted in its opposition to ‘unsanctioned’ MMA bouts, the officially stamped CMMAA was loud and unequivocal: nothing regarding MMA could happen without the CMMAA’s express approval.

The position put the newfound sports body and CTN on an inevitable collision course. After the station announced a second international MMA card just weeks later, tensions simmering behind the scenes boiled into public view.

Dave Minetti, now the CMMAA’s technical director, fired off a missive blasting the event and warning those involved. “[The] CTN MMA show is an illegal event,” Minetti said. “[CTN didn’t] get CMMAA approval. They don’t respect MMA rules. Their referees and judges are untrained and not qualified. The CMMAA will not allow any fighters who compete in CTN’s event to fight on any CMMAA official show or The ONEFC.”

Tough rhetoric, but on the ground the words had little effect. For one, boxers are rarely involved in decisions regarding their opponents. They fight who, when and where their trainers tell them. Further, active Kun Khmer fighters had little reason to fear the CMMAA because Kun Khmer falls under the protective wing of the Cambodian Boxing Federation, which had a long and close relationship with CTN. But most importantly, the television station had one important thing that the newly formed MMA body did not: money. For all its big aspirations, the CMMAA was operating with a near non-existent budget. And without purse strings to pull, everyone knew its words would be difficult to enforce. Im Ouk, owner of the Afighter Team, echoed what many at the time were thinking. “The CMMAA doesn’t have any clubs or any professional fighters,” he said. “All they have is their association, which I see has no credentials in this sport.”

Still, the division between the two heavyweights would cast long shadows. Without the support of Vath Chamroeun, a former Olympic wrestler who was tightly aligned with the National Olympic Committee and the Wrestling Federation, CTN would have no wrestling coaches or wrestlers among its development programme. And because of their excellent skill at controlling action on the ground, wrestlers represented perhaps the finest pool of talent from which to develop new MMA fighters. “The hardest part in this sport,” Ouk lamented, “is the politics.”

Ready to rumble

Nearly 1,000 people packed the CTN stadium in Russey Keo in anticipation of Cambodia’s international MMA debut. The first two matches held in the WWE-esque, six-sided ring at Koh Pich were easy to dismiss as test fodder. “That was just a sample,” Serey said. Tonight, the home team would shine. And Serey and CTN would silence the doubters.

To head off criticism of ‘untrained’ referees, the station hired veteran UFC third man Marc Goddard to workshop with local officials and oversee action during the night’s most important bouts.

For opponents, the station brought in three fighters each from South Africa and the UK. Perhaps hedging his bets, Serey matched the foreigners against three up-and-coming MMA fighters and three seasoned Kun Khmer fighters.

Only Tok Sophorn from Afighter Team won. The other five got bludgeoned. In the second fight, Sam Angdun lay motionless for a full 90 seconds after getting KO’d at 2:26 in the first round. The third bout ended in just 63 seconds. To the horror of everyone, the same storyline unfolded again and again all night long.“ My job is to take them into deep water,” said Goddard after rescuing Kun Khmer veteran Pich Arun from a first-round thrashing. “But I don’t want to drown them. He was clearly a fish out of water.”

If the Koh Pich bouts could be written off as a test run, these six fights, under the critical eye of fighters and genuine fans, could not. The assault on national pride was immense, and the blowback came hard and fast like an elbow to the teeth. “That show was kind of sad,” Ouk said. “I knew our Khmer fighters were better than that. All they needed were proper training and better support.”

The Phnom Penh Post described the night as “shambolic”. Minetti labelled it “ridiculous”. Vath Chamroeum took to the local papers and publicly demanded the suspension of CTN’s programme, calling the bouts “unsanctioned”. Hem Thon, administrative director of the National Olympic Committee, said the fights must “be halted”.

Serey was under the gun, and anger seethed at the highest levels of government. “The Ministry of Youth and Sport called me,” he said. “They said: ‘Serey, you must stop doing this because it’s dangerous. We are not happy. Cambodians are not happy. You brought good fighters from overseas to beat Cambodians in our own house.’”

What Serey had envisioned as a crowning achievement turned into a nightmare. But he wasn’t about to give up. Sure, the sport was new to him, he said, and he was still learning its nuances. Sure, he underestimated the strength of the foreign opponents and, just as mistakenly, overestimated the ability of his own fighters. But losing was better than not trying at all. Not trying was giving up. And Serey was not about to do that.

So back he went to the Ministry of Youth and Sport. “I said to the ministry: ‘How long do we wait? If you start right now, I think it will take 10 years for our fighters to be strong. If you say now we cannot do it and we must wait for 10 years more, that means we will wait until 20 years.” The ministry relented. “They let me do it,” Serey said. “They knew I was right.”

Little Frog

Little Frog got her first taste of martial arts when a friend invited her to the Bokator national tournament in 2007. “The first time I saw it I really liked it. I asked my friend: ‘How can I train? Do they allow female students?’” They did, so Little Frog began training. She was a natural. “When I was young, I really loved sports,” she said. “I played football with the guys and stuff like that. I love the challenge.”

She entered the national tournament a year later and brought home one silver and three gold medals, all in forms and demonstration categories. Winning was euphoric. She was hooked.

In the ensuing years Little Frog has become Bokator’s leading female practitioner and now she’s among the art’s most active evangelists. Bokator has taken her to Japan, South Korea, Vietnam and the Czech Republic, and she’s among the sport’s most ardent ambassadors.

In 2012 she represented Bokator at a regional martial-arts conference in Ho Chi Minh City, where organisers asked the girls to join a beauty pageant. “I didn’t trust myself,” she said. “I didn’t think I could do that because I love to dress up like a tomboy. I don’t know how exactly to walk or do girly stuff. I jumped in because I wanted to get the Cambodian name to compete with them, too.”

She got first runner-up, but being a beauty queen was never the goal. Fighting was. So in more recent years she has diversified her styles, adding some wrestling and Vovinam, Vietnam’s traditional martial art, winning medals in both. Two years ago, she began fighting Kun Khmer in earnest.

“Every time they call me and ask ‘Do you want to fight next week?’ I say ‘Yeah, OK. Put me in the ring.’ One day I am going to fight in an international competition. If I want do that, first I have to be the best in Cambodia.” In 10 fights she has won six – three by technical knockout – and lost four.

If her parents were proud, they were also worried; mostly about her safety, but social pressures weighed on them, too, especially her mother. “She was really worried about me, because, you know, I’m a girl. And she wants me to stay home like a normal girl, take care of my parents, be a nice girl and stuff like that.”

Even though she never told them about her desire to fight, the intuition of Little Frog’s parents kicked in early on. “From the beginning, when I started Bokator, they complained about it,” she said. “They said: ‘Don’t fight. If you train for fun it’s OK, but please don’t fight.’”

The more she trained, the better she got. And the better she got, the more she wanted to train. And the more fraught her parents became. “We had some arguments, too. I said: “Come on, Mum; I’m not doing anything bad. I spend a lot of time on this because I want something more. I want to be the best. I want to be on the top.”

After she lost two consecutive fights, her mum begged her to quit. “She was crying, she was complaining, complaining, complaining every day. That put a lot of pressure on me.” Still, Little Frog couldn’t live with herself if she gave up on her dreams. “Sometimes they really get tired of giving advice to me. Sometimes they stay quiet. But they are sad. And I am sad, too, because I made my parents like this. But I don’t know. I still keep fighting.”

Bright lights

For now, at least, the prospects of the big-time stage have everyone lining up for success. ONE FC seems to have navigated the local waters well: they’ve included everyone and offended no one. Fighters from every club will make an appearance on fight night, CTN will handle local broadcasting and CMMAA will sanction its first official bouts.

Longer term, ONE FC could open doors that have long been shut to Khmer fighters. The pinnacle of a local champion’s career would be marked by a few fights against foreigners for a couple hundred bucks. The Cambodian game has never had international connections and, for the best in the country, the prospects of fighting beyond the local stage were typically zero.

ONE FC now offers a gateway to the world. To get through those doors, though, fighters will have to start winning. Considering the current level of the local sport, which is just barely a year old, there is still much distance to travel. “Our goal now is to look after the younger Khmer fighters because they will be the future of MMA in Cambodia,” Ouk said.

That future begins on September 12 and, no doubt, future MMA stars will one day look back on the local debut of ONE FC with nostalgia and pride. And all the obstacles everyone faced to make MMA happen in Cambodia will seem worth it.

WHO: Khmer Warriors
WHAT: MMA cage fighting
WHERE: Koh Pich Theatre
WHEN: 7pm September 12
WHY: There are few sporting spectacles more exciting than a prize fight