Reflections on Cambodia: Rushing Through a Country I Barely Understood

When we first decided to add Cambodia to our Southeast Asia trip, I’ll admit—my knowledge barely extended beyond spotting it on a map and knowing a few scattered facts about its tragic recent history. Angkor Wat, that legendary sprawl of ancient temple ruins, was the main draw. Like so many travelers, we came for the bucket-list sight. We’d visit Siem Reap, maybe swing by Phnom Penh, snap a few photos, eat some amok curry, and move on.

Now, sitting here a week after leaving Cambodia, I’m left with a heavy feeling—a sense of regret, even embarrassment. We rushed through, ticking off the “must-sees” without looking beneath the surface. I realized, too late, that I was profoundly unprepared to truly understand this country.

A Country More Than Its Headlines

Before our trip, my mental picture of Cambodia was painted with broad, oversimplified strokes: Angkor Wat’s majestic stones and the shadow of the Khmer Rouge’s atrocities. I knew about the genocide, the Killing Fields, and Pol Pot—but not much else. Cambodia’s past was about the Red Khmer time in the 1970s, a period of violence and loss. On the eve of our departure, somewhat by chance, I stumbled across a documentary about Cambodia. One of those moments made me wish I could turn back time. Suddenly, I was learning about the deeper layers of Cambodia’s story—the period of French colonial rule, the ways it changed society and left scars that still linger. I learned about the spillover of the Vietnam War, how Cambodia became a reluctant stage for conflict, with the Viet Cong hiding across the border and American bombs falling on unsuspecting villages. These were things I’d never really considered before.

The Illusion of Progress

Walking through Phnom Penh and Siem Reap, it’s easy for a Western visitor to get the wrong impression. Glittering shopping malls, trendy coffee shops, shiny hotels—on the surface, it feels almost developed, almost “normal.” But this is, I realize now, just a thin facade. Scratch the surface, look beyond the tourist zones, and see that poverty is everywhere. It’s in the faces of children selling trinkets in the heat, in the crumbling buildings behind the main avenues, in the quiet resignation of the people.

I regret not taking more time to see this reality, to look beyond the comforts that made me feel at home. I regret not asking more questions and not seeking out real stories from the people who live here. I arrived with Western assumptions, and I left without challenging them enough.

The Kindness of Strangers

One thing that stands out from our brief time in Cambodia is the gentle, almost shy kindness of the people. Cambodians have a reserved nature that’s different from Vietnam or Thailand, where the tourism machine is well-oiled and locals are used to foreigners. In Cambodia, I sensed more caution, humility, and genuine warmth when we tried to connect.

I realize now that this requires a different approach—a softer touch, more patience, and less assumption that everyone is there to cater to us. Cambodia hasn’t (yet) been overrun by mass tourism in the way its neighbors have, and the people deserve the same respect and curiosity we’d hope for ourselves.

What I Wish I’d Done Differently

Looking back, I wish I’d:

• Read more about Cambodia’s history before visiting—not just the “highlights,” but the nuanced stories of colonialism, war, and recovery.

• Spent more time in smaller towns or rural areas, outside the tourist bubble of Siem Reap and Phnom Penh.

• Asked more questions, listened more, and spent less time seeking comfort or Instagrammable moments.

• Approached every interaction with more humility, knowing that my understanding is limited and that my presence is a privilege.

Moving Forward

Travel is supposed to broaden our horizons, but it only works if we’re open to learning, even if what we learn is uncomfortable. Cambodia is more than Angkor Wat, more than the Khmer Rouge. It’s a country still healing and struggling, but full of beauty and quiet dignity.

I left Cambodia feeling like I let the country down, and in a way, I let myself down, too. But maybe this is the first step: recognizing our own limitations is how we do better next time. I hope to return someday, not just to see but to understand.

If you’re planning a trip to Cambodia, do yourself (and the country) a favor: go with open eyes, an open heart, and a willingness to listen. This place deserves more than a rushed visit. It deserves our empathy, our curiosity, and our time.