Cambodia, Antonia's review

The wonder of Angkor.
A perfect fusion of architectural ambition and spiritual devotion. The enchanting Apsaras celestial nymphs — dance gracefully along its walls, while 800 meters of bas-reliefs at Angkor Wat accompany visitors through the most iconic temple-mountain, a miniature representation of the universe, surrounded by the “oceans” of its moat reflecting its sublime beauty. Then there’s Ta Prohm, left at the mercy of the jungle, its walls embraced by a maze of roots — the setting of Tomb Raider with Angelina Jolie, alias Lara Croft; the small but exquisite Banteay Srei, the “Citadel of Women”; and the serene Bayon, with its towers of four giant faces gazing upon visitors from every direction. This is Cambodia’s calling card — a country that overwhelms you with its contrasts: the beauty of its temples surrounded by lush, fertile nature and people who continue to smile gently despite everything; and on the other side, the brutality of its tragic past, and the corruption of its present. A traumatized nation — one that still carries its wounds. 

Traveling with Il Nodo makes all the difference.
Because it compels you to leave the well-trodden paths and reach the rural villages where the NGO distributes water filters. There is no drinking water, no electricity. Even rainwater, poorly stored in jars outside the stilt houses, can lead to disease and infection. Beyond providing filters, Il Nodo also works to promote education and awareness on sustainable use of resources. Life in the countryside is hard. The most affected are young people and children — especially girls — often kept from school or withdrawn too early, for what in Cambodia is known as “the milk debt.” Tradition dictates the “sacrifice” of children, who instead of studying and building their future, are forced to devote their energy to ensuring the survival of parents and grandparents.  

One of the journey’s most emotional stops was at the Kompong Thom Institute, where a deep bond has formed between Luciana, Martina, and the children supported through Il Nodo’s sponsorship program. Considered a “model” orphanage, the institute has invested heavily in sports and outdoor activities, with football and basketball fields. Sadly, the large football field built thanks to Il Nodo’s support was later seized by the government for so-called “public utility constructions.” About three years ago, a wall was built to separate it from the rest of the courtyard — the field now lies abandoned and overgrown, at least for now.

Looking at that deserted field, surrounded by the joyful shouts of the children playing nearby, one can’t help but reflect on the strange destiny of this people — left entirely on their own, without services, support, or infrastructure. And yet, they are a creative, resourceful people, whose smiles light even the poorest faces; a people whose incredible craftsmanship lives on in their woodwork, jewelry, and the sumptuous silk woven with Ikat patterns, in the refinement of Khmer cuisine, and in the vibrant atmosphere of local markets. 

Phnom Penh embodies Cambodia’s contradictions.
A whirlwind of sights and sensations: motorbikes racing at full speed past the shimmering spires of the Royal Palace; elegant cafés and the pungent smells of street food stalls; the city’s stunning position at the confluence of the Mekong — with its blue waters — and the muddier Tonle Sap River. A metropolis of over two million inhabitants that, despite widespread poverty, aspires toward modernity, its bridges and skyscrapers reaching for Singapore’s skyline. From the top of the Vattanak Tower , the city’snaga, shaped skyscraper (the mythical serpent of Angkorian architecture), you admire Phnom Penh from a terrace rivaling the luxury designs of its wealthy neighbor. Yet, descending to street level, you quickly encounter another reality: crumbling houses, narrow alleys, and families living in precarious conditions.

Thanks to a cyclo tour organized by young architects, one can still glimpse traces of the city’s colonial past — fragments of beauty in old French buildings now occupied by poor families, each living in a single room of what was once a prestigious hotel. They share a common kitchen; the smell is overpowering; ceilings and staircases are collapsing. Meanwhile, vast Chinese investments have fueled the construction of low-quality, half-empty skyscrapers — unaffordable for most Cambodians. The once-booming influx of Chinese tourists has plummeted since COVID, deflating the real estate bubble that once sustained it. Cyclo drivers pedal through crowded streets under tangled webs of electrical wires; crumbling buildings alternate with villas protected by high walls topped with coils of barbed wire — homes of the wealthy few.

Barbed wire appears again at the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum (S-21) — a former high school turned into Pol Pot’s main detention and torture center. The visit to the Killing Fields is equally chilling: an apparently peaceful park that was once a place of mass extermination. The wounds of 1975–1979 remain open. Every family still bears their marks — through memories of forced marriages, the haunting coexistence of victims and perpetrators, and the silence of parents unable to share that pain with their children.

In the face of all this, the country’s ruling class and government remain largely absent — distinguished only by corruption. No one quite understands why much of Cambodia’s rice land has been sold to the Chinese (China being one of its main buyers), nor why Chinese investments have pushed for the construction of a new airport , designed by Foster + Partners, 20 kilometers from the city. “We already have one less than nine kilometers from the center that has always worked perfectly,” locals say. “There was no real need for another massive project — one that will only raise the cost of air travel.” That’s business, as they say.

Antonia Jacchia