The light and the dark of Cambodia

Along with Laos, I knew incredibly little about Cambodia before making the decision to come here. Heck, I couldn't even pronounce the name of its capital - Phnom Penh - until a couple of months ago. (For the record, it's Pa-nom Pen.)

To me, Cambodia is a layered country, especially from the point of view of the tourist. Phnom Penh in particular is full of these contrasts around every corner. At first glance, it's a gorgeous capital city with tree-lined streets set in a friendly grid pattern (thank you, France). The luxury hotels are truly luxurious, with graceful bars, soaring lobbies, and multiple infinity pools by the veranda. 

Dig a little deeper, and you see the rough edges of Phnom Penh, the indications that this is a poor country in a poor region of the world, beset by environmental challenges, diseases, and the ravages of war. Traffic is insane, but most people drive their family of five around on a tiny and cost-efficient motorbike. As you ride through a tuk tuk around the city, you pass streets teeming with food carts and open-air markets, trash and suspicious smells. I finally understand the phrase, "Assault on the senses."

Then you dig even more, and hit the core of Cambodia, that which darkens its past, colors its present, and defines its future: the Khmer Rouge and the horrors of the 1970s.

I don't know about you, but I knew nothing about the Khmer Rouge and Pol Pot except the vague understanding that it was a bad thing somewhere in Asia a while ago, and Pol Pot was referenced once on Gilmore Girls. Before arriving, I tried to read up on that period to have a better idea of what happened. But nothing can prepare you for visiting the sites of tragedy. 

In a nod to the phrase dark tourism, visiting sites where tragedies have occurred has become quite popular, whether for educational purposes or memorial purposes. Two such sites rank as the top attractions in Phnom Penh, despite their sadness: S-21, or the Tuol Sleng Prison, and the Killing Fields. 

You can read more about the Khmer Rouge and the atrocities they committed on your own - I'm certainly not educated enough about them to educate you. What I can share were my thoughts upon visiting these sites. Rather I should say, I wish I could share my thoughts. But all I can summon are brief impressions that profoundly impacted me. 

Things like walking around a school-turned-torture-chamber-and-prison, where the museum curators have posted dozens of walls of pictures of the prisoners. Hundreds of faces stare out at you: some boldly, some accusingly, some with tears in their eyes. All I could think of to whisper was, "I'm sorry."

Things like the museum exhibitions with pictures of Pol Pot and the other leaders - and their faces have been angrily scratched out by visiting Cambodians over the years.

Things like walking past the two-foot-wide wooden prison cells, the doors swinging open. Touching one of the doors softly and realizing who had touched it in the past.

Things like walking past the groups of visiting Cambodians, from the elderly to schoolkids on a trip to young children. Realizing that these events are entirely in the memories of all Cambodians, that we are only a generation removed. 

And that's the thing: these atrocities were so recent. Trials for the leaders still haven't concluded. In 2013! In fact, a big news story today is that one of the leaders who was on trial just died. 

But despite the heartache and the soul-crushing tragedy, Cambodia goes on. It certainly is a place for everyone to visit, if only to learn more about the worst of humanity but how goodness overcomes and marches on.

Next Life

To kick off our tour of Cambodia and Vietnam, my father and I decided to start out big: exploring the temples of Angkor. This massive area in the western part of Cambodia was the original seat of the Khmer empire and is now a UNESCO World Heritage Site, the world's largest religious monument, and the site of historical and cultural significance in Cambodia and, arguably, in all of Southeast Asia.

We hired a car and a tour guide (I love getting to splash out now that Dad is here. Hello, rose and lemongrass martini.) and set off exploring on Dad's first full day in country. Just to make sure he would really feel the jetlag, it was - as always in SEA - miserably hot by approximately 11am and a hellish inferno by 1pm.

Despite the oppressive heat, we managed to explore quite a few temples over the two days we had our tour guide. From intricate narrative carvings, to temples of thousand faces overlooking the area, to jungle temples with trees entwined as part of the landscape, to taking in the mass of the famous Angkor Wat, I think it's safe to say I can call myself a tomb raider. (Fact: Angelina Jolie's Tomb Raider was filled over two months in the temples of Angkor. I know this to be true because our guide said this fifty thousand times, and Cambodia in general is fairly obsessed with that fact as well. As Dad and I have not seen that movie, we can neither confirm nor deny.) It's also safe to say that by the time I get back, I'll probably have bug spray permanently affixed to my skin. My hypochondria has kicked in big time, you guys.

As we wandered the temples, we also chatted with our guide about his life and experiences. One of the things that struck me the most was how he would often say "Next life!" with regards to a specific experience he had not had. I'm not sure if he was being glib about it, or as a man living in a Buddhist country, referring to a deep-seated religious belief.

Either way, the things he had never experienced but hoped to in his next life, if his karma sticks out, ranged from amusing to thought-provoking.

"Do you get snow in your home town?" [Exclaims over a photo my dad shows him of 3 inches of snow outside the house] "Ooh! I never seen snow! Next life."

"Those apartments over there [really gorgeous three-story townhouses] are very expensive. $11,000 a year! Next life."

"How long was your flight here? THIRTY HOURS?! Wow! I never take a flight before. Next life." 

[In response to my dad's question if he has ever been out of Cambodia, such as to Thailand, which is an easy bus ride away] "No, all my money saved to pay for kids' schools. I never leave Cambodia. Next life. 

[After asking if we would come back to Cambodia and in response to my dad saying he should come to the United States] "Next life, I will be BORN in the United States!" 

Needless to say, it was a humbling experience. I'm sure I will have more to say about the challenges of being seen as a walking ATM but also about understanding more about the incredible poverty modern-day Cambodians face, on the heels of the horrors the country has experienced so recently. But even this side-comment by the guide had me thinking about both the privilege I have by simple virtue of where I was born, and also the importance of doing what is possible in this life with what I have been given. Considering those things include watching the sunrise over Angkor Wat, I am a lucky girl indeed.

How Kristen Got Her Travel Groove Back

I had heard some pretty scary things about traveling in China: that it was just a really difficult country, that Westerners were stared at relentlessly, that the pollution is enough to literally knock you down.

Despite all that, I made a last-minute decision to skip exploring more of Laos in favor of heading north to Beijing, where I could crash with family for a week. A decision made partly out of loneliness and partly out of the attitude of, "Well, if I don't go to China now, I'm never going," turned out to be one of the best choices I've made on this trip.

Simply put, China was awesome. I had spent the past five weeks traveling solo - which, in Southeast Asia, is easy to do and there are plenty of people to talk to, but the simple act of having to navigate new cities and figure out places to eat and sort out sleeping arrangements is really exhausting. By this point, I had done it in five different cities in two countries.

By contrast, I think I had the easiest tourist trip to Beijing that anyone has ever had. I stayed in a beautiful, huge apartment with my cousin and his wife and finally experienced a bed that wasn't Asia-style rock hard. I mean, the floors in the apartment were even heated! AND since they have a DPO box they can get deliveries from Amazon for all their non-perishables - hello, Crispix. Allow me to eat this entire box over the next week.

I even got a welcome gift bag! Chateau Pierson is so classy.

Besides experiencing the comforts of home, I just had a deliciously easy and relaxed week. I didn't have to make a single restaurant choice, and when I did go out to eat, it was with two people who speak Mandarin. More than that, I got to do exquisitely normal things - after more than a month of every day being exciting but challenging, this was incredible. I went grocery shopping with my cousin (and got to watch him charm the fruit ladies with his Mandarin and as a result get tons of free fruit to munch while we shopped). We went out with his friends and played trivia over pizza and beer. I lazily watched a bunch of (totally legal) movies. And did I mention the heated floors?

And yes - the weather was cold and the pollution pretty terrible, at least for the first few days. My second full day there, the day started at about 520 (the scale to measure Air Quality only goes up to 500, by the way). That afternoon was a bit more clear but SO windy that I think I saw a woman on a bicycle flying by. But the bonus of that wind? It shoved all the pollution out, giving us some gorgeous blue sky days right as the weather warmed up to the 60s.

I managed to do some touristy things, namely the Forbidden City, the Great Wall, and the Temple of Heaven. But besides that, I just took it supremely easy, indulging in Reese's Cups, trips to their gym, and a Chinese massage that literally involved hammers (much to my surprise).

It was with reluctance that I left such a comfortable environment. But it was time to head south so I could continue with the final leg of my trip - Pops and Daughter McCarthy take on Cambodia and Vietnam!

My great wall

I sat alone in the cable car and suddenly started to talk out loud to myself. “I have no idea what is happening next, in any facet of my life. All I know is where I have been and where I am right now.” This comes out as almost a nervous chant, a reassurance to myself as I stand on the edge of the abyss. Never before have I felt as aimless, as misdirected. My paths have always been clear. Now all I know is what is right in front of me: the Great Wall of China. 

**

 I pass group after group of tourists on a pilgrimage, as I am. Whether to tick something off the bucket list, learn more about Chinese history, or try to put their own lives and concerns into perspective, we are all dumfounded by the massive amounts of stone and memory in front of us. 

**

 I haven’t been this cold in weeks. I’m bundled in three tops, two pairs of pants, a puffy white coat, a sarong I’ve fashioned into a scarf, a homemade hat, and mismatched globes. But I step on the stone, lay my hands on the wall, and will my shivers (and the memory of past shivers) to temporary stillness. I am here. 

** 

As I walk, I shed item after item of clothing as my mind sinks deeper into reflection. It’s almost required in a place such as this, deep in the Chinese mountainside.

I have my own “great walls.” At this moment, I have those emotional and mental blockades preventing me from reaching through to the other side. Whether these blocks are protecting me or imprisoning me, I don’t know. What is on the other side, I don’t know. 

** 

Now I sit directly on the wall, the mid-day sun warming my knees. It’s an astonishingly clear day: a bit of irony to this clouded mind. I’m sitting on this solid reminder of past, present, and future, as I contemplate my history, stumble through my days, and try to map what’s next.

There is no map. There is not even a cartographer who can assist me. The stretch of stone path in front of me is all I have.

At this point I'm basically just cycling across Asia

I am fully aware that my bicycle tours are just getting ridiculous. After doing a night tour in Bangkok and a half-day tour in Chiang Mai, I figured I would be prepared enough for the big mama of bike tours: a full day, 37 km ride around Vientiane, Laos.  As a side note, 2 out of 3 times on these tours my guide was from Holland. At first I was surprised by the coincidence but considering the Dutch are literally born cycling out of the womb, I guess it’s not so weird.

Obviously that assumption that doing an eight hour tour would be fine was totally false, because I’m Kristen after all, but I did learn some good tidbits about Laos (and myself) throughout this day – even if by the end I was ready to just call a cab.

More templey-goodness and the lives of monks

In Southeast Asia, you can’t swing a dead cat without hitting a temple or a monk (or is it throw a dead cat? Either way, if you have a dead cat, a temple is nearby). It’s no surprise that I have been to a fair few temples and seen a lotta Buddhas on my bike tours. I also learned that monks only eat twice a day (once early in the morning and once around lunchtime)… FOREVER. Or at least as long as they are monks. That just wouldn’t fit in with my grazer stomach and tendency to pack yum-yums wherever I go. As an example, at this moment I have a package of butter biscuits, a box of crackers, two apples, a muffin, a pack of Thai chocolate wafers and half a bag of M&Ms. All in my bag. At this moment in time.

Of course, there are many reasons why I couldn’t be a Buddhist nun, the least of which being that the sole purpose of the nuns is to serve the monks. Girl’s gotta do her own thang, you know.

Also, there is such a thing as a Buddhist pope. I don’t know if the guide meant the head monk in Laos or what, but this is where he lives.

Thai/Laotian Pranks 

Thailand and Laos are basically full of a bunch of pranksters. This statue is of a famous Lao king or prince or something (my services are available as a tour guide, you guys), on the Mekong River. In Vientiane, the Mekong separates Laos from Thailand – and it’s surprisingly narrow at that point. So this statue is not facing the city, but has its back to the city and is facing Thailand. While I thought at first his outstretched hand meant he just wanted some skin, our guide told us that this is basically like giving the big “F.U.” and the finger to Thailand. In retaliation, a little while ago some Thais snuck up the statue and tried to saw the hand off. This is basically like letting chickens loose on the hallway during senior week. (CHICKENS! IN THE HALLWAY!!!). Or like William and Mary putting a statue of TJ facing away from UVa. I love it.

The eternal question – what to do with all this cement?!

In the 1950s, the U.S. was all over Laos like sticky on rice (sorry) but then decided to pull out, halting a lot of airport construction plans. They left behind a whole mess of concrete meant for an airport. The Laotians took it and decided to build a monument fashioned after the Arc de Triomphe. This baby is called the “Vertical Runway” and, amusingly, a “monster in concrete” – literally on the sign on the side of the monument. Apparently they copied the entry out of the English Lonely Planet book without translating it first. It’s been up there for years.

All the bumpy dirt roads… not great for the bum.

In contrast to Bangkok and Chiang Mai, we rode almost exclusively on dirt roads – meaning bumps, rocks, and holes. All that bumpiness meant a very sore bum the next day. But happy, tired muscles.

DON'T YOU WORRY - more bike tours to come!

 

My So-Called Travel Plans, or, I'm going to China!

Before I left, I had two faces that I would put on while discussing my travel plans. One would have me discussing my precise itinerary, while the other would feature a much more relaxed Kristen saying "Ohhh who knows? We'll see what happens!" (That's kind of the persona I put on when I was talking about my plans in this post.)

In both instances, and even when I left, I told people that I had my lodgings and plans set for the first few days, but after that I was going to see what would happen. Look how casual I can be!

Well, within just a few days traveling solo, I quickly realized that all of my assumptions were incorrect.

I basically upended my travels plans within the first 48 hours. I couldn't spend a week in muggy, chaotic Bangkok, and escaped down to the coast of Thailand faster than I thought. I can't stand the thought of having to move around more than is necessary, lugging my bag from place to place, so island hopping is out too. Instead, I parked myself for two weeks in Koh Lanta. And then - surprise! - I did get up to northern Thailand, specifically Chiang Mai.

The biggest surprise to me? I decided to go to China.

China had been part of my original itinerary, but then cut out when I decided to stick to SEA. Literally two days before leaving when I was in the throes of WHAT AM I DOING THIS IS CRAZY I AM GOING TO FAIL (which was really fun for everyone involved, I think), I decided that if it all got to be too much I would use going to Beijing as a crutch. (I have family living there.)

Within a few days of arrival, I decided to go ahead and book China. At that point, I was still using it as a crutch, the quintessential, "Okay, only two more weeks of traveling solo before I'm in the bosom of family," and so on.

Traveling solo is funny; specifically, the wildly vacillating emotions I go through on a daily - nay, hourly - basis is almost comical. One hour I receive bad news and want nothing more than a hug from someone who loves me; the next, I'm wandering down the street, musing about how I could have totally done solo travel for another week.

I'm almost glad for that realization, and the realization that I've already been in Thailand for a month alone without even really noticing. While I could have easily done another week, two weeks, or probably even more without breaking a sweat, I'm glad that I will soon be with family (as is my mother). I can explore an entirely new place and receive a bit of comfort at the same time. I don't have to be on all the freakin' time.

Babies pooping on the street, terrible air pollution, and suspicious food - I'm coming for you! 

Little Laos

Before I decided to come to Laos, I knew literally nothing about it, except where it was roughly located. As I did my research, I learned a little bit more: former French colony (the "backwaters of Indochina," as it were); current communist nation; one of the poorest countries in the world.

Most importantly, and most tragically, Laos is the most heavily bombed country per capita in the world in history. 

For nine years, bombs were dropped every eight minutes, 24/7.

The country that did the bombing? The United States, during the Vietnam War.

Now, I don't know about you, but in most of my history classes we extensively covered up through WWII, then rushed through the major events of the latter half of the twentieth century before taking the state exam. (I still don't really know what happened in the 1980s and 1990s. Complete blank.). As I got my degree, I was lucky enough to take a bunch of different history classes, but most were either of a wide breadth - like International History of the Cold War - or way back in history, like the Roman Empire (guilty of majoring in IA and minoring in Classics). So while I learned about the Vietnam War quite often, it was never in depth enough to know about the role Laos played - and the effects the country still faces today.

VERY simply put, in what was called "the Secret War," U.S. troops heavily bombed Laos during the Vietnam War in order to try to damage the Ho Chi Minh Trail. (This is a massive simplification - you and I both know that events have far more causes and effects, for both sides, than can be boiled down to a few words).

What is easy to describe, but not easy to swallow, is the impact that the bombings continue to have on the nation. See, a lot of bombs didn't go off when they hit the ground. A quarter of villages in Laos are still contaminated with UXOs; post-war, 20,000 people have been killed or injured by bombs, 40% of them children.

A number of international groups and a government national group are tasked with clearing the lands and diffusing the bombs, which I am sure you can appreciate takes a lot of time. In the meantime, despite the education people receive on the UXOs, people are killed and injured far too often. Some find a bomb and try to sell the scrap metal for pennies to feed their family for three months. Some are simply farming and hit a bomb by accident. Some people have even been killed when they have been cooking over a fire in their house, not realizing a bomb - activated by heat - is buried below.

I learned all of this when I paid a visit to the COPE Center in Vientiane, an educational and rehabilitation center for amputees. What surprised me is the lack of blaming that I saw in the exhibits - the U.S. was referenced maybe only once or twice, and never in a negative way, simply factual. (This is in contrast to the Lao National Museum, which only referred to the U.S. as the "U.S. Imperialists." It's cool, guys.

I know this isn't chipper or shiny, but it's the truth about Laos. Despite the horrors that the country faced, there's still hope, especially with the help of centers like COPE.

Sculpture made out of old bomb metal...

And yes, the U.S. has done terrible things to other countries. But I've never seen the point of feeling ashamed about what my country did in its past. What is important is the positive impact that I can have in the future. More than ever, I'm loving my role in life as an educator. There's so much I don't know about the horrors of human history, but by educating myself and then educating others... maybe, just maybe, I can have an impact. When you travel, I encourage you to peek under the tourist veneer and learn more about the heartbeat of the country - its scars and its spirit.