Walking under the blazing sun and coming up to the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum was not something I anticipated as I woke up this morning. Maybe because I wasn't mentally nor emotionally prepared to take on such a chilling visit, maybe it was the heat and dehydration, or maybe just the simple fact that this was a lot to take in.
It is my third day in this country. My third day walking down moto-packed streets, communicating through smiles and hand gestures, taking in every site and scent that comes my way (voluntarily or not). And it was on my third day I was struck with the this country's past right in front of me.
The cells, shackles, and skulls all stood before me. I saw hundreds of prisoner portraits who were meticulously numbered, seated, and photographed all the same.
A high school became a prison. Exercise equipment became torture devices. And to think all of this happened only a few decades ago.