Cambodia

Cambodia - the country of Angkor Wat, beautiful beaches, deserted islands, vast highlands, and the splendid capital of Phnom Penh. Unfortunately it is also the country of street beggers, limbless land mine victims, UXO (unexploded ordinance) areas in almost every province, relentless beach hawkers, pickpocketers, six year old thieves, child sex tourism, sexual slavery, extreme poverty, and a legacy of genocide so horrific it's almost unbelievable. A week in this country has both thickened my skin and softened my heart as I have faced each of these realities. I'm torn between anger and compassion, between the desire to help and the realization that in most cases I cannot.

Every day 40 people in the world are killed or maimed by land mines. As one of the most heavily mined countries in the world, Cambodia's countryside is littered with land mines planted during the war. Ordinary children, rice farmers, and travellers fall victim to the carelessness with which these mines were placed and to the neglect of the responsible parties to clean up their murderous mess.

From 1975-1979 a man named Pol Pot led the government of the Khmer Rouge that was responsible for killing millions of Cambodian citizens (experts put the number anywhere between one and three million). To learn more about this horrific event in history Philip and I travelled to Cheong Ek, the "killing fields," outside of Phnom Penh. Large craters in the fields mark the site of mass graves used to hastily dispose of the victims' bodies; their contents now rest on dozens of glass shelves in a large pagoda built as a tribute to those who perished on those grounds. If you haven't ever heard of any of this, it's probably not just an oversight on the part of your history teacher. Both America and Britain backed this genocidal dictator as they were afraid that the advancing North Vietnamese Army would precipitate the spread of communism in SE Asia. Outraged by the killing of their own civilians by Pol Pot in south Vietnam, the Vietnamese did eventually bring down Pol Pot and are now seen as heros, while America is seen as...well you can probably guess how they feel.

The incredible temples of Angkor Wat reveal the legacy of a powerful ancient kingdom; their tall towers area perfect getaway for reflection and a relaxing look at the surrounding countryside. However, as soon as you step outside their outer gates you are met by children carrying postcards, t-shirts, and books, shouting to you about their cold drinks and lunch options. These hawkers are often children between the ages of five and eight who (in most cases) have been forced by their parents to tout these objects instead of going to school because tourists are more likely to buy from cute little kids. Not wanting to contribute to this form of child labor, we tried to only buy from older women. However, to get postcards we finally did aproach some of the children. Their abilities to understand any language that Philip and I tried to use to secretly discuss prices was amazing, but their haughty attitudes, high-pitched yelling, willingness to undercut each other on prices, and whining complaints when we would not buy from all of them made me quite uneasy, and we decided to just walk away. Apparently "you can't look and not buy" in Cambodia and the young girls ran after us threatening us with physical violence and cursing with extremely forceful, degrading English. My stunned reaction was somewhere between rage and pity. Threat of the police means nothing to these girls, so before losing our tempers we walked quickly over a bridge and away from their continued cursings.

In Sihanoukville, Cambodia hundreds of locals roam up and down the beach carrying books, postcards, trays of fruit, bracelets, jewelry, shrimp, baguettes, scarves, paintings, oils for massages, string for hair tweezing, manicure supplies, and anything else they think a tourist might be talked into buying. If the relentless interruptions from our reading weren't enough, the theft of our bag by four boys (age six to ten) was enough to make me never want to even acknowledge these sellers again. Ignoring their questions and requests seems rude, but when "no thank you" is only met with more questions and outrage at your disregard for their handiwork, what do you do? (Note: we eventually regained all of our property except for our cash, no thanks to the police of the city who will only help you if you file a report and pay $20 for it - outrageous)

Cambodia is a third-world nation still recovering from horrific, tragic past events. Looking past all the logistical frustrations of traveling in this nation, I have loved the time we spent here, the stories I have heard, and the things I have seen. It's not a piece of cake to travel like Thailand, but it's incredibly rewarding and receives a high recommendation from me. Just make sure that when you come you bring some thick skin and an open mind.

Don't believe them....

Don't believe them when they tell you....

"no problem, you can take bicycle to see the temples" (guesthouse owner renting us the bikes)
Though many of the Temples of Angkor are certainly within biking distance of the city, a two day bicycling tour of the extended loop around the area should not be taken lightly. Our circuit covered over 80 kilometers of bumpy, dusty roads (my bum still hurts), where I had to hold my head down to keep from breathing in the exhaust from passing motorists and tuktuks. The glorious photos I took of myself in front of Angkor Wat will always remind me of our journey, as you can clearly see the layer of grit covering my face and teeth.

"you want to go to the national museum? no, it is closed. no, you cannot walk there to check, it is very very far from here" (motorcycle taxi driver in Phnom Penh)
Desperate taxi drivers will say absolutely anything to make you climb on board. Thankfully Philip and I had a map of the city to consult along with a schedule for the museum. A two minute walk north of our location led us right to the gates of the beautiful (and open) museum.

"no, it doesn't hurt at all" (beach hawker in Sihanoukville offering to tweeze my leg hair one by one using a small string and baby powder)
Ingenious as this method may be, it still hurts like the dickens and shoud never be agreed to for large surfaces. As soon as she began, searing pain began radiating down my legs; I grimmaced with each hair she ripped out. She simply laughed and said "no pain, you must be strong." I'm apparently not...a two inch bald spot on my shin speaks of my weakness.

Sangthaews - the ubiquitous "buses" of Laos

To make it from Si Phan Don back to Pakse, Philip and I tore ourselves from our air-conditioned splurge at 8 am to take the public "bus." Our journey was an early, rude awakening from our pampered previous day (my half birthday and philip's excuse for tricking me into spending $15 for a hotel).

The public bus, otherwise known as a sangthaew, is an interesting method of transport. Picture a bare-bones pickup truck that has had a metal roof installed over the bed. Three long benches, one on each side and one in the middle, run the length of the bed and are padded with rough blue plastic for the "comfort" of the passengers. Customers sit along these benches with children in their laps so that they won't have to pay for them (you apparently pay per bum width) and luggage and bags are either tied to the roof or placed underneath the seats. Since there are not specific seats in the truck, the transportation coordinator (i.e. the guy who hangs off the back by holding onto bars installed on the roof and takes money) can cram as many people/packages/chickens as he can to increase his profits from the day's drive.

Today's sangthaew was filled with interesting passengers....

The first was a man who actually spoke some english, so we leaned over to try to hear him above the noise of the motor. We struck up a conversation until he told us that he was headed to the hospital due to a terrible cough that he had had for a while.....TB anyone? Philip and I politely leaned back, ended the conversation, and stuck our heads our the window. A mouth full of dirt is better than one full of infectious disease anyday.

The second character was a small, frail elderly woman who exited the bus halfway through our journey in front of a small shack on the side of the road. I lifted my legs for her to scoot by and felt sorry for making an old lady climb past us out of the crowded bus. I realized that my sympathies were misplaced as she singlehandedly heaved her huge bag of fresh fish (so fresh they were still flopping), crawled past everyone down the middle aisle, and hopped down off the back of the bus with more grace than I had ever managed. They may look old and frail, but these women are tough.

The third passenger worth mentioning is another possible source of highly dangerous infectious disease, the duck that flapped around for three hours under Philip's seat. Wrapped up like a package with rope, this bird displayed its dislike for the ride by pooping all over the floor and struggling against its bindings to get out into the aisle for some fresh air. Scared by the prospect of avian bird flu, Philip lifted his legs every time the poor animal moved a feather. (We didn't know if ducks were possible carriers of the virus, but we sure weren't taking any chances.)

Last but not least is another smalll, elderly woman casually snacking in the corner - she was quite cute until she gave you a big smile and revealed blood-red gums and teeth. Her bag of ruby red spit did not bode well for her (or my) health and was enough to make me scoot closer to the duck, the lesser of the two evils. After first spreading white chalk (a substanced similar to lime that it said to "soften" the gums) on a large green leaf and popping it into her mouth, she would open a small container and stuff her mouth full of beetlenuts. Supposedly this creates a "buzz" sensation, but I'm honestly not quite sure - no one has ever been able to speak english well enough to explain it, and I'm certainly not willing to risk my teeth to find out.

Si Phan Don (translation, four thousand islands)

At the southern tip of Laos the Mekong River fans out to create beautiful fertile islands - not four thousand as the name would have you believe, but at least several hundred splotches of land ranging in size from several kilometers of beautiful rice paddies to a small collection of reeds whose roots constitute land for the day if the river is running low.

Philip and I have been lounging about on three of these islands for the past few days enjoying the lowest prices we've found in all of southeast asia. These low prices, however, are low for a reason, as we found out shortly after our arrival. After passing on our first accomidation offer of twenty-five cents per bed, Philip and I found an adorable bungalow built over the water on the western bank of Don Det - a prime location for sunset watching and hammock laying (at a price of only $1 each). We had no electricity in our small hut, but were actually quite thankful for the darkness as it helped to hide the rats, roaches, spiders, dogs, and other assorted animals that seemed to enjoy our bungalow as much as we did. (For an expanded view of this story, see Philip's account).

Cycling provides the best means to transport for exploring these small islands, so each day Philip and I would rent out single gear clunkers to peddle our way slowly across the "roads" and paths that criss-cross their way through the ironic sites of rice paddies lined with palm trees and dolphins frolicking near freshwater waterfalls. With only about thirty freshwater Irrawaddi dolphins remaining in the area, we were lucky to get a peek at them by hiring a fisherman to illegaly take us to a Cambodian island where a bribe was paid to the officials there to let us sit and watch the dolphins from the shore. Don't worry - ten thousand kip ($1 USD) and a smile was enough to get us safely back to Laos without any embassies having to get involved.

Taking the slow boat to laos...the really slow boat

Once you've made it all the way around the globe, up through Thailand's mountains, spent hours in public buses sharing your seat with a Thai baby and chickens, and have shouldered a fourty pound pack all the way to the small town of Chaing Khong...there's one last step in the journey to Laos: a slow boat down the Mekong River.

Sounds romantic and picturesque, right? Hmm, though the sight of the Mekong running through the valleys in Laos is certainly breathtaking, the sounds, smells, size, and speed of the boat also takes your breath away (but more like the sensation of suffocation rather than delight). To maximize profits, boat operators here pack as many foreigners as there are "seats" onto a small wooden longboat with a heavy, noisy diesel engine that putts at a painfully slow pace down the river. I can't give an actual speed for the boat, but let's just say that turtles waved as they passed. Originally cargo ships, these boats now have wooden planks no wider than eigth inches (obviously no one bothered to measure the average foreigner's rump size) and extremely upright wooden backs. This wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for the fact that no floor room existed either, forcing me to hug my knees for eight hour stretches.

Then, after all the foreigners were packed on, the locals made their appearance and climbed aboard all available floor space in front, in back, and on top of the boat. With them they brought bags of dirt, rice, cages of ducks, babies, baskets of corn, and all of their fish net knitting supplies to occupy their time on the trip. We stopped at sand bars and dirty river banks to unload, reload, and pick up an extra kid. Sometimes we would stop without explanation, only to have a woman run down out of the hillside thirty minutes later to deliver lunch to a single passenger.

All of this...for a total of fifteen hours over two days...

The Mekong slow boat is terrible and wonderful all at the same time. But if you make it to SE Asia, it's one of the things that you just have to do...and never do again.

The Storey Story

It's interesting.

Philip and I spend every day, all day, together here in SE Asia. (This has less to do with a dependence complex than it does with the fear that if we lose sight of each other in a market it might be a few days before we find each other again.) We experience all the same adventures and see the same sights. However, our memories of these experiences often differ and at times you might even think that we had taken separate trips. For the other side of the story, check out The Storey Storey at http://philipstorey.blogspot.com - I highly recommend the recent mountain biking story which I have chosen not to blog about as it reminds me of pain, misery, and terror. Enjoy!

Pai and the Art of Motorbike Maintenance

In northern Thailand a small paved road winds 140 kilometers from Chaing Mai to the beautiful city of Pai. Rather than subjecting myself to three hours of motion-sickness torture in the a public bus, Philip and I decided to rent a motorbike instead and make the journey at our own pace.

Those of you from Brandon may remember my early driving record and cringe at the thought of me weaving along the side of a mountain on a motorbike. I too had this fear and almost abandoned the idea after we had an accident (not a crash, just a small encounter with the pavement) after driving off about 10 meters from the bike shop. (Oh, and for the record, I wasn't driving). We took this as a minor bump in the road and had a few more practice rides before heading out on our big adventure.

The road to Pai brought us over a high mountain pass along a winding road that has numerous side trail options to visit waterfalls, hot springs, and beautiful overlooks. We savored our time on the road and descended into a gorgeous green valley that cradles the city of Pai. Unlike many of the tourist towns of Thailand Pai has managed to create enough infrastructure to make backpacking possible while still preserving the traditional farming lifestyles of its surrounding villages. Rice paddies sprawl out from the river and small bungalows dot the countryside; waterfalls lie within several kms and a relaxed attitude permeates the town - perfect.

Aside from relaxation our main event was elephant riding/bathing in the river. At the elephant camp we hoisted ourselves onto Ham Noi, a ten foot tall beauty and set out for our trek. Spiny - that's the word I would use to describe what it feels like to ride an elephant. Ham Noi's thick, tough, reptile-like skin was covered in one to three inch hairs that were so sharp Philip tried to hold up his legs while riding (a bad idea considering the length of the fall to the ground). Nevertheless we loved our ride and bath - we actually ended up bathing more than the elephant...our guide's favorite game to play in the river was "climb on, climb on, higher! onto the neck" and quickly thereafter command the elephant to thrash its head violently and toss us eight feet into the shallow river below. It was really really fun, until Philip scratched his chest on the river's rock bottom. Apart from small battle wounds we loved our adventure and highly recommend it.

The rest of our time in Pai included relaxation and a proper american hamburger in celebration of the fourth of july (cooked by a real american vet living in pai). After a few days, we made our way back to Chaing Mai along the same route. Our trip home needs less commentary - simply five hours of pelting rain with Philip and I wearing bright orange ponchos to make ourselves more visible on the road. It wasn't the most pleasant, but we made it and lived to tell the tale.

Retroactive blogging - the best of the best

Due to exhorberant internet prices on the islands and a packed schedule in Bangkok and Chaing Mai, I've lagged quite far behind in my blogging in the past two weeks. Though I have tons of stories to tell, I know that an abbreviated version my adventures might be appreciated in this case. So, here is the best of the best of Thailand (so far)....

Best shark spotting site: Chumphon Pinnacle, a dive spot off of Koh Tao; considering it was my first time to see an actual shark while diving, I did well and managed not to pee in my wetsuit or bolt to the surface (and it was a big one, Phil says 6 ft, I say at least 8)

Best high life: With tons of bolted routes in the cliffs that rise from massive boulder in the bay, the Perhentian Islands can't be beat for an afternoon of rock climbing - blisters, sweat, and trembling muscles are rewarded by breathtaking views of the ocean from the top (that's me in the pic!)

Best "master cleanse" resort: The Sanctuary, Koh Phan Ngan; if your ultimate vacation includes seaweed shakes and daily colonics, this is the place for you; i decided against deep cleaning my bowels and instead spent each afternoon on a floating hut anchored in the bay, swinging in a hammock with the waves

Best temple adornments: Wat Arun differs greatly from the other eye-scaldingly gold temples in Bangkok - its 60 meter facade is decorated with old pieces of colorful lacquerware donated by anyone willing to give up an extra plate or saucer

Best place to strip down: Surrender yourself to experienced hands at Saija, one of the best places in Chaing Mai to get a Thai herbal oil massage; one hour of bliss is enough to get scarily friendly with your masseuse, and at a price of six dollars it's available to even the most frugal budget traveller

Best "budget" resort: Cocohut, Koh Phan Ngan; complete with infinity pool overlooking the ocean; as long as you're willing to share the bathroom with thirty other people, the price is very very nice

Best sunset vista: Wat Mae Som is a buddhist temple set high in the hills surrounding Pai and seems to be made exclusively for watching gorgeous sunsets that fall over the valley

Best use of sleeping pills: Overnight bus from Bangkok to Chaing Mai - though only 200 B ($5), this turned into a hellish trip as I struggled to use one small blanket to cover both my body in the freezing cold bus as well as my nose to block out the horrendous stench coming from the onboard bathroom

Best football game: England vs. Ecuador - we watched this nighttime game projected on a huge screen in Hat Rin along with hundreds of brits; lets just say that it's a good thing England came out on top (best comment from the crowd: Come on Rooney, you fat cow!)

Best comment in the hostel: "Honey, will you throw me the umbrella so that I can use the toilet?" When checking out our new pad, we were pleasantly surprised that the bathroom seemed quite bright and free of the usual smells that plague hostel toilets. However, had we glanced up, we would've noticed the absence of a ceiling, which technically wasn't a problem at all, well....until the rain started

Best classroom experience: Baan Thai Cooking School. After graduating from college, the last thing I wanted to hear about is more class; however, the cooking classes here are out of this world, complete with market shopping lessons and instructions for making curries, pat thai, sweet and sour veggies, and cashew nut chicken (those of you who make the trip to nashville to visit me next year may be rewarded with a dish or two!)