Killing Fields

Day 5 was the hardest so far, despite the shorter distance. Most of the 45km until lunch was in full sun, and the breeze from riding barely held the heat at bay. Quang made sure we stopped every 10km to hydrate with water, tea, coconut or sugarcane juice. We were all glad to get into the bus to travel the nex 40km to the Killing Fields, though not so happy to leave the air conditioning again.

This village didn’t need a flashy museum to depict the horrors the Khmer Rouge had committed here. One small building displayed photos of the dead, eyes collapsed, skin shrunk to the bone. A nearby dome held bones in glass prisms reaching to the ceiling. They were separated by gender and age – senile, mature, adult and child. Only two women, who hid in the hills, survived. I joined Quang and the others in lighting incense and placing in the shrine at the centre of the room. As I pushed it into the sand, I prayed, ‘This must never happen again,’ but of course it will.

We cycled another 16km before catching the bus to the hotel and our final night in Vietnam.

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