Cambodia's Olympic Games

For Claire and I, the jewel in the crown of Phnom Penh is the optimistically named Olympic Stadium. It was actually built for the South East Asian games in 1964 which were then staged elsewhere because the stadium hadn’t been completed in time. For Cambodians, the word Olympic does not really mean anything other than being a reference to multiple sports. And since there are multiple sports played at the stadium, the Olympic Stadium sounds like a fine name.

A glorious place for sunsets. This view has changed now; large apartment blocks half built are already towering over the stand opposite. 

It was designed by the iconic Vann Molyvann whose architecture you can see throughout the city and harks of a Cambodia moving from colonialism to a modern era. Such is his fame that there are architectural tours of various buildings and areas that he has designed. The indoor stadium is cleverly built into the main stand with hundreds of vents allowing air to circulate and light to burst in, and has a water system where rain water is transported around the walls and floor acting as a cooling system.

The indoor stadium where people play badminton in the evenings

Every day, over a thousand people use the stadium as their place for exercise and for hanging out. There will be people running or gently ambling around the track having a natter, whilst on the pitch in the middle, two teams from the Cambodian professional football league might be playing; running back and forth in an often fruitless manner. Where shot putters and long jumpers would be, there will be couples swatting a shuttle cock back and forth – no net is needed.

The stars of the show, however, are the throngs of dancers who rim the top of the stadium. They move en masse dutifully following the aerobic dance class leader as large loudspeakers belt out the music. As the evening progresses, the music moves from Korean pop, to traditional Khmer, to Bollywood and on until the music and dancers drift away into the night. The eclectic mix of music, always involving a jazzed up version of Hotel California though, is matched by the range of ages taking part. And even the odd white person can sometimes be spotted.  

This happens every morning at sunrise and every evening at sunset. It is mostly women who do it, but of all ages. When running around the track and looking up at them dance traditionally Khmer, the mass, moving together to a slow rhythm can be a little hypnotic. In the morning, there are also Chinese sword martial art type rhythmic thing. Those pics are on the computer in Oz with Claire though. Sorry!

Below the dancers on the steps of the terracing are those who like to sit, gossip and look at the life that is happening around them. They see people running up and down the terracing or doing press ups and sit ups on the steps. The slightly older male and female walkers, flinging their arms in the air, will weave in and out of those sitting as they make their way around the stadium and back again.

After all of this exercise, you would be right to expect that Cambodians will be hungry. So of course there are snack stalls selling corn on the cob, meat on a stick, noodles and fried bananas. The healthy addition is the freshly squeezed orange juice, which is undoubtedly the best I've ever tasted.

It is behind these food stalls that the Olympic Stadium’s secret lies. Walk through a door in the wall and laid out before you are the Olympic swimming and diving pools. On a weekday after 5pm, you may be privileged to see swimmers who are missing limbs power up and down the pool and at any time you will be entertained by fearless Cambodian youths diving off the 10m board – often more than one at a time. Amazing pics here.

50m pool with a separate diving pool at the far end. One length of the front crawl and I'm done for. 

This is all just within the actual Olympic Stadium. The immediate grounds surrounding the stadium is where you will see old men playing petanque, young bucks playing basketball, children learning tae kwon do, wealthier types serving double faults and footballers scuffling about in the grit and concrete. The largest crowds watch the volleyball though, where a nation of small people defy gravity to slam the ball down with force. As ever, the crowd’s interest is encouraged by the amounts that they have bet.

They are seriously skilled at petanque. If you throw it close, without fail the next guy will just whack it away. 

It is here that the life of Phnom Penh can be felt and one of the few places where the various people of Phnom Penh, rich – poor, young – old, male – female, participant – spectator, share a space and an experience. It is free and open to all. The opportunity to be together is maybe the most valuable thing there could be in a society where division and strains continue.

This all may not be enough to save the Olympic Stadium though. It is prime real estate situated right in the middle of the city, and huge developments already engulf and tower over one side of the Stadium. Last year plans announced to develop a modern, multi-purpose sports centre on the outskirts of Phnom Penh were met with fears for what it would mean for the Olympic Stadium, especially given that the government actually sold the stadium to a Taiwanese company in 2000.

When I was young, the tennis courts of the local school would be swamped with kids itching to dive around like Boris Becker or volley like Navratilova. Every evening for a few glorious weeks in summer, there would be about 20 kids whacking balls about. The gate was sometimes left open and other times, you could crawl under the fence that nobody seriously thought about repairing to keep people out. The fence was more there to keep balls in.

Now, the courts have been resurfaced and improved and, because of the investment, was deemed valuable enough to be locked up. There are no kids whacking balls about during a summer’s evening anymore. It is pristine and empty. In the UK, there was a huge focus on how to create a legacy after the Olympics but they couldn’t even work out what to do with the stadium. In Phnom Penh, they may not have had an Olympics but the stadium has created a legacy, just by opening it up for the people to use.

Strange people even have bread, cheese and prosecco to celebrate birthdays. Thanks Nicole!

Olympic Stadium, we raise a glass to you.
Gordon

Don't Think I've Forgotten: Cambodia's Lost Rock and Roll

During the Khmer Rouge regime, nearly two million people perished including most of the country's artists, musicians and intellectuals. It's estimated that Cambodia lost 90% of its artists - particularly devastating in a country where the traditional arts are taught orally. This meant that much of Cambodia's artistic history was nearly destroyed. There are organisations who are working hard to preserve and revive the arts, including the company I work for, Amrita Performing Arts. Another organisation, Cambodia Living Arts, found Master Artists (four to begin with, 15 years ago) and helped to support them and start them teaching again.

Musicians also perished during this time - not just the traditional artists, but the 'kids' who were playing rock 'n' roll. I hadn't appreciated quite what a modern music scene there was in Phnom Penh until I saw the film Don't Think I've Forgotten: Cambodia's Lost Rock and Roll.

In January 2014, Gordon and I, along with my folks, were lucky enough to be among the 700-ish people (it seats 550) who squeezed into renowned Cambodian architect Vann Molyvann's Chaktomuk Theatre for the premiere of Don't Think I've Forgotten: Cambodia's Lost Rock and Roll. As the film's Facebook page describes, far better than I could: This documentary film provides a new perspective on a country usually associated with war and genocide. By celebrating this powerful music, and the people who created it, Cambodia's musical heyday emerges from the shadows of tragedy into the light of history.

Seven years in the making, this film features interviews with surviving musicians or family members of those that didn't survive, plus amazing footage of vintage Cambodia. The film had only just been completed - if memory serves, they were still doing the subtitles on the day of the premiere!

It was a very emotional night with lots of history in the room. Vann Molyvann, architect of the theatre and architect of some of Phnom Penh's most striking buildings was there. As was Rithy Panh, director of, among many other films, The Missing Picture, which narrowly missed out on an Oscar a few days ago. A handful of musicians that survived had made the trip, from Cambodia and from abroad. The family of some of the artist's featured in the film but who didn't survive the regime were there: Ros Serey Sothea's sister, Sinn Sisamouth's son.

It was a real privilege to be there. Please see this wonderful film if you can - this trailer gives a little flavour of it.

But… there's more…

After the premiere we went outside for some music - I didn't really know what to expect.

Some of the musicians, who had been the equivalent of The Beatles or Bay City Rollers in Phnom Penh in the 70s, had come back together three days before the premiere and started to play the old songs. Some younger musicians joined them, to fill the gaps left by the Khmer Rouge, and what proceeded was one of the most fun, and emotional, concerts I've been to. I don't know how much these musicians still play, but it was amazing to think that they could rehearse together for such a short time, after such a long time not playing the music, and then give a three hour concert. To be clear, these musicians weren't from the same band. I don't think they were necessarily playing songs that they'd have played the first time round. It was awesome!

It was standing room only in the theatre - it's amazing how many people you can
squeeze in when you don't have fire safety laws…