Armed and Dangerous in Phnom Penh

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It had to be the AK-47. Sure, the M16 looked kinda slick, and who hasn’t thought about firing off an old fashioned Tommy gun? But the AK-47 is the weapon of the revolutionary, the tool of liberation, bloodshed, freedom, and all the misery that comes with it. Plus, it only cost $30 bucks to fire off a magazine, whereas a rocket launcher would have set me back $200! I put on the camouflage jacket and followed a young guy into a dark, narrow room. A target was stapled about 30 feet away, which according to Paul from Edmonton resembled someone of “Middle Eastern descent.” I put on my tight orange ear guards, took a seat at a table, and was too busy feeling the cold weapon in my hands to listen to the advice on how to shoot the damn thing. Loaded, cocked, point, aim and fire. The gunshots were intense, as were the smoking shells rapidly ejecting from the gun, narrowly missing my eye. A few solo pulls before a switch to full automatic. Squeeze the trigger softly. No rat-atat-tat, here. No bang, no pew-pew. Instead, quick, sharp thuds of violence. My shoulder was kicking back all over the place, along with the bullets. But I hit the bastard, this paper enemy. Tore him to shreds. When I opted for the Colt 45 however, he escaped without a scratch. The Happy Shooting Range menu had pump action shot guns, hand grenades, RPG’s, Coca-Cola and Fanta on the same menu (no pictures allowed). Ten minutes away was the site of one of the worst massacres in modern history. Cambodia, it appeared, was going to be heavy on the contrasts.

To understand the country now, you have to understand the country then. Then being not too long ago. Torn between the forces of communist Vietnam and US-backed Thailand, Cambodia’s modern history is literally a minefield. At the heart of this evil was Pol Pot, a psychotic lunatic who duped an entire country, building an army of brainwashed kids committed to ruthlessness and savagery. Genocide, famine, civil war ≠ Cambodia became synonymous with everything wrong with humanity. So why was I having so much fun? Here I am, hanging on the back of a moto-taxi, as the driver weaves and darts amongst the traffic that conforms to the laws of chaos. His rusty motorbike keeps pulling into oncoming traffic, repeatedly revving up the wrong side of the road. But the air is warm through my fingertips, my friends keep pulling ahead and Minesh has offered to pay his guy 50c more if he gets to the guesthouse first. It’s 2am but there are children on the dusty streets of Phnom Penh, and they’re smiling and waving as we pass shacks next to brand new furniture stores next to street vendors still selling fruit and vegetables. My guesthouse is in the backpacker ghetto along the Beong Kak Lake, its deck built onto the lake itself, complete with hammocks, a free pool table, DVD library, music, and fresh cooked, excellent food. I’m paying $2 a night, and the sunsets over the lake are priceless. The south of Thailand felt like a bad dream, and as I had hoped, I had awoken within the buzz of country that offers everything a budget traveller could hope for. Great people, great food, great prices, but let’s get back to the history.

Gonzo Gallery for Armed and Dangerous in Phnom Penh

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