I heart Cambodia! <3

Cambodia is an eerie beauty that seduces. Her grey sky accents the mystery of its temples and poverty in the streets.

When walking through town, I heard soft bells and drums. Soon I learned that this is how the amputee population in Siem Reap makes a living. The musicians are all victims of the three to seven million landmines left in the rice paddies and forest. Mines were the weapons of choice for the Khmer Rouge forces, a socialist terrorist group that envisioned a pure Cambodian race and sought to rid the country of chinese, vietnamese, muslim cham and hilltribes in the late 1970s. The mines were designed to maim, not kill, thereby causing economic burden for the government.

The Khmer children are quite beautiful, small with heart-shaped faces and dark almond eyes. Begging is an art form here. Late one night, a little boy came up to me, held my hand lightly and began to sob. I brought him a several other children into the 24h convenience store (yes, Cambodia is more convenient than Grenada) and told them each to pick something from the shelves. What did they all reach for? Milk formula, most likely for their little brothers and sisters.

The temples are more poetic than I can ever be. What I will tell you: they are supernatural beings themselves, simply majestic. I spent two days tuk-tuking around to each of them and hiking through their labyrinth walls of red clay dirt and tangled vines. This is where Tomb Raider was filmed. I am a blonde Lara Croft armed with a camera. My pictures say the rest.

I took a boat ride past the floating village en route to Battambang. This is Siem Reap's version of a ghetto, occupied 80 percent by Vietnamese. I asked my tuk tuk driver, Lam, to go with me and bought him his ticket which cost one third the price of mine. I wanted to ask him some questions. First about his family. Lam is the second of eight and from a village north of here. Did he go to university? "No, too expensive. But we pay my sister to go. She youngest." The government doesn't subsidize education, nor does it provide loans. We floated past houses on the water with families of 8-12 inside, swinging on hammocks with children playing on the floor. There is no front wall to these homes; their lives are completely on display for foreigner like myself to observe. I watched Korean tourists take pictures of me in my boat and suddenly felt very uncomfortable taking pictures myself. What a violation of privacy I committed.

I asked Lam if he's ever been out of Cambodia. Oh yes, he told me, he's been up north (where he's from), to Phnom Penh and to Battambang lots of times. All of these places are in Cambodia. He asked me if I went to Thailand. "Do you have any baht?"he asked. No, I don't, I said. But I have US dollars. "You American?" For two days he thought I was British.

We drifted past a floating grocery store, a mechanic, a church, several schools, a hospital. These structures are buoyant on old tires, barrels and stacks of pipes. A few years ago the Vietnamese government built a basketball court near the school. It is fenced in so the ball isn't lost to the murky water. The court is packed with children. I asked Lam why the Vietnamese came to Cambodia, which is considered a poorer country. He shrugged and told me that they pay the government for ID cards. I couldn't seem to get an answer to why they've relocated. I did read that Cambodians call Vietnamese youn, or "savages from the north." Possibly those living here are outcasts in Vietnam? Does Vietnam have a caste system I'm unaware of? I have yet to find out.

We ended up in Lake Tonle Sap where locals are paddling around selling waffles and fruit and soft drinks to the tourist boats. I bought a banana and asked Lam how the pollution affected his profession as a tuk tuk driver. Again, he shrugged and said people were masks. Many people do. In addition to the typical non sterile hospital masks people sport, some wear designer cloth ones with hip designs. I'd also like to note that you do not need a license to drive a motorcycle here. As in Thailand (and I'm guessing everywhere in se asia), you see whole families of four and five riding one moto or someone balancing a huge load of cargo on their bike. Traffic is never boring.

I asked Lam if the children begging on the streets were part of the slave trade. "What is slave?" he asked me. I tried to clarify. "Do people buy and sell the children?" He laughed. "No, they just poor!"

"You know the American actress Angelina Jolie?" I asked. Lam nodded. "What do people think of her?" Lam smiled and said they like her a lot. "I mean what do they think of her adopting a Cambodian child and taking him to the United States?" Lam shrugged and said,""She should have got a Vietnamese." Is that a green light for the adoption of Cambodian children? Don't worry Pop, I intend to fly back to the US alone.

"You want to see Crocodile farms?" Lam asked me.
"Yes, I would love to see the crocodile farms, " I replied.

Sompeah

Siem Reap, Cambodia is the jumping off point for visiting the temples of Angkor. These structures are of another world. Dating back 800-900 years, the temples have been consumed by the jungle and are considered to be of contemporary style. Their artistry has been likened to that of Versailles and Notre Dame. Built to honor gods, for kings wives or possibly as mausoleums, there exact purpose is unknown.

White Night

I am on Koh Samui, an island off the east coast of southern thailand. I came here to attend the Full Moon Party which was last night. As a self-proclaimed international party connoisseur, I felt I needed to add this experience to my repertoire. I slept all afternoon both today and yesterday on the white sand beach.

Last night for dinner I had fresh basil and tomatoes with spicy tofu. I have decided to mostly stick to mostly fish and vegetarian dishes to avoid eating dog and other peculiar meats. A thai guy came over and introduced himself as Joel, or whatever the thai version of that may be. He's from Chiang Mai and running a tour down here. He invited me to go camping in the forest tomorrow. I told him my few beach days were precious to me. Soon we were hanging out in hammocks drinking Mai Thais and he told me he'll show me around in Chiang Mai when I go there in a few weeks. I am so excited to have a thai friend! Then he starts talking about his ex girlfriend and reaches for my hand and asks me to take a walk on the beach with him. Damn, so much for a thai friend. Annoyed, I got up and decided it was time to go to the party.

At midnight I took a speedboat to Koh Phangan, another island, to attend the party on Haad Rin beach. Above the speedboat motor, you could hear the beats from the shore. The party stretched across the crescent-shaped beach. Areas with DJs spinning various types of music attract different nationalities. The Israelis danced to trance. The Aussies and Brits liked dance(how I would classify the house music version of Top 40s). The Koreans preferred drum n bass. Then I wander down the beach to find one guy spinning Beyonce. As much as I love Beyonce, she does not belong at the Full Moon Party. The music is not great; no one notices when the DJ mismatches a beat. But everyone--let me repeat--EVERYONE is dancing their hearts out. The energy is electric and alive. I stop watching the DJs make mistakes and let go.

In the land of smiles, they have a word for this fun, sanuk. Playfulness is embraced in everyday life and the foreigners have adopted it for the night. People are covered in paint that glows in the dark and drink for plastic buckets, the kind you used to build sand castles as a child. I am informed that the King outlawed drinking from glass bottles after midnight so the buckets have become a marketable success for thai entrepreneurs.

The scene reminded me of San Fran's version of love parade with many more ladyboys, or transgender/transsexuals. Spotting ladyboys in a crowd is like looking through a Magic Eye book. At first you only see the picture on top, then you change your focus to see the hidden picture underneath. From that moment on, you can only see the hidden pictures. Everywhere I look there are ladyboys. Sexual Reassignment Surgery here is world renowned but costly. Many cannot afford it and only take hormones. At the party, I watched a ladyboy lick the sand off a passed out drunk boy's face.

I met lots of people in the crowd: Swedes, Colombians but wound up dancing with a group of Israelis. Soon I was introduced to their whole group of friends and they became my friends for the night. "Israel would be nothing without America's aide!" Soon we are covered in sand, so we dance in the water. At one point, someone handed me an iguana so I dance with the iguana who was very handsome.

I made one friend from Tel Aviv, Jacob, who was a paratrooper in the army. When I told him I was a medical student, he told me that he fractured his vertebrae when jumping out of a plane and getting his foot caught in the parachute. L4, L5 and S1. He couldn't walk for eight months and now he is dancing at Full Moon.

In the Israeli army, they call nights they do not sleep "white nights." Jacob taught me to find north by three sets of constellations in the stars. It is important to know at least three since the sky moves as you are navigating through the darkness.

I walk through Haad Rin's village with my new friends and realize all of the shop signs are in Hebrew. This month is a school holiday in Israel and so they all come to Thailand. One guy told me that the thai store and restaurant owners here speak Hebrew better than English. Who would have thought?

I watched the sunrise on the beach and the party was no where near over. It is quite possible that it is still going on as I type. At many parties I have been to, most people look like zombies at 7am, dancing because they are determined not to fall asleep, not because they really want to be there. Not so at Full Moon. The crowd is still bouncing up and down, people are laughing and running up and down the beach, the glow paint smeared all over their bodies and clothes. There is a first aid area and many people have bandages on from various party-mishaps but they continue to dance. The water is full of dancers as well, splashing about with the energy of anime schoolgirls.

I got back on the boat at 7am, tired and happy and with an invitation to visit Tel Aviv. But the highlight of the night may have been watching the ladyboys scramble in and out of the boats in heels and miniskirts.

My Buddha Is Bigger Than Yours

I stayed my first two nights on Khoa San Road, where Leonardo DiCaprio stayed in The Beach. Think dreadlocks, tribal tattoos and dirty sandals.

The first morning, on my way to the Grand Palace, a man stopped me and waved his hand before me, as if to ward off demons or cleanse my aura. The only demon I knew occupying my space was left from the Thai whiskey I drank the night before. Pronounced "whi-kay," thai whiskey is made from sugar cane and is actually a rum. Unfortunately, the man's efforts didn't work.

The Grand Palace is quite a site. A sort of spiritual Disneyland bathed in gold and jewels. The day was hot and the tiered rooftops looked magnificent against the deep blue sky. The main attraction is the Emerald Buddha, which is actually carved of Jasper and only a few centimeters high. He has been honored since the 15th century and the king himself changes Emerald Buddha's gold outfits three times a year.

Spirituality in Thailand plays a major role. If we live in a world of four dimensions, the fourth being time, Thais live in 5D. The fifth is the spirit world. Gods are thought to inhabit the same world as humans and certain areas are visited to pay respect to the deity who lives there and perhaps ask for a favor. An enormous amount of the day is consumed by prayer, burning incense, purchasing amulets of good luck, knocking a lucky wooden phallus on the door frame, leaving a spirit a gift such as fruit or flowers.

I visited the Amulet Market in Bangkok thinking it a novelty and upon leaving, I walked through other markets to realize all of Bangkok is an amulet market. I watched a monk stop at an ATM machine to grab some cash so he could purchase some lucky herbs.

After the palace, I visited Wat Pho, a temple home to Thailand's largest reclining Buddha. You cannot see all of him from any angle. His toe is bigger than my arm. Quite impressive. The day included hundreds of Buddhas, of all sizes, all given the same amount of respect as far as I could tell.

I tried to take a tuk tuk to Chinatown but my super-friendly driver kept driving me to his buddy's suit shops. Frustrated, I would up paying him to take me back where I started.

Then I got beat up by a small Thai woman.

Actually, I paid her to do it. Thai massage trumps all. They beat you up, fold you passively into various yoga poses and knock all the bad spirits to the curb. An hour costs eight USD at the massage school. I can't wait to go back.

The massage was so good that I fell asleep and was late to dinner with my new German friend Thomas. A Irish folk artist from Hamburg, all Tom wants to do is dive. He's been travelling for ten months. We ate grilled red snapper for three dollars and drank fresh squeezed juice. He told me I am the strangest girl he'd met on his entire vacation. I was pleased.

I went to bed early last night to rest up for my flight this morning to Koh Samui. Tonight is the Full Moon Party. I plan to spend the afternoon asleep on the beach in preparation.

The Devil Unseen

Upon boarding my flight to Korea, I realized I was the only white woman. Singsong voices floated around me and I didn't understand a word. This is already the trip I craved.

I happened to befriend the small Filipino woman, a grandmother, sitting next to me. Going to visit her mother in Manila and has a daughter who practices medicine. Turns out she works for the UN. Her story unfolded.

In 2003, she was stationed in Baghdad with her boss whom she adored, Sergio Viera de Mello, a handsome Brazilian diplomat who maintained a good repoire with both US and foreign leaders. He was being primed to become the next Secretary General, she told me. There is a bust of him in Ipanema.

This was the beginning of the war and they were the first UN team to be stationed there. It was not long before they were bombed. My new friend, Lynn, had her face mangled, lost site in one eye and today has thin white scars creeping across half of her face. Sergio was killed, found barely breathing in rumple. She has tears in her eyes as she describes this loss and that of 22 of UN workers that day. She, herself, was reported dead to her family at home--a HUGE clerical error. Her family held a memorial service for her, said their goodbyes. Then she called home and her son answered. "This is Mom," she said. "Who?" he asked.

Working for the UN is exciting of course, she told me, but it is full of heartache and helplessness. She describes the Iraqi people under Saddam's rule when she visited in 1999. Then, there was gas, electricity and water in every home. Saddam ruled tightly but the country was prosperous. She herself walked through the town market alone after midnight and felt no fear. Upon her return in 2003, there was no more gas, no more electricity, no water. Children no longer have a shot of becoming educated. There is trouble providing rations because the terrorists intervene and maintain control. "It is the new Somalia."

She then tells me that the first of Saddam's bunkers we targeted with precision weaponry was actually full of 500 citizens. "They did not print this is any American publication."

"The Iraqi people are of the kindest. I cannot help but to feel for them constantly. We have fed them to the terrorists."

In undergrad, in a different life, I took courses entitled "War" and "Violence and Social Order" and "Power in American Society." Long ago I read Black Hawk Down which was made into a movie. Lynn told me the real story. In 1993 in Somalia, an American copper bombed civilians accidentally, killing 267 women and children. This is the root of the hatred that brought down the two American helicopters and dragged their bodies through the streets. "I would maybe do the same," she said. They left out these details when I studied this at my well-respected American university. US soldiers fled and the Pakistanis came to their rescue. The US soldiers felt that animosity directed towards them. Perhaps we need to take responsibility for our actions to avoid more horror.

"Daddy," Lynn told me referring to Bush Sr, "knew to let Saddam go but his son was not so smart. It is a case of a devil you can see and now it is the devil unseen." How do you save Iraq? Even Democracy has it's limits. She told me that only one US Senator has a son in Iraq who works a comfy desk job in Baghdad. It is not the sons of our leaders on the battlefield. I asked her about the UN's sentiment towards the administration. "I believe we are ready for leaders that are capable of compassion."

Disulfiram-like effect

He walks out into fresh air. His indestructible lightness of being. He removes his shield for her, boughs on one knee, tilts his hat. She dances before him, choreographing that energy, tossing it to the wind, releasing it from her pores to free herself. He grabs her and forces her to look into his eyes until she makes promises with fingers crossed behind her back. But he knows. And he knows why.

She laughs and drinks and explains her passions with animated gestures. She looks into his eyes to draw him in, tilts her chin and parts her lips. He is locked in the moment. But when he arrives late one night, she is lost. Reminiscent of neglect. “You are strange again tonight,” he tells her. She apologizes and searches the air for an excuse. Fear of inevitable tragedy inhibits what is rivaled only by love that has withstood history.

Her strangeness credits its greatness. Undeniably.

The Asphalt

The asphalt echos with the laughter of a child never heard
Another sheet of crisp white paper
Radioflyer red, sunshine yellow, Barbie pink, aquamarine
PAUSE and refect

She scribbles with black crayon
Knuckles white
Wrist twisted
Cheeks dry as stone

Leaves turn brown and crumple
The sky races past
The world spins on bent axis
Pain melts into the cracks and solidifies
A girl grows outside the dotted lines
Nail polish on cuticles
Pan-American smile and crooked teeth

Written July 20th, 2007