Tapdancing on a land mine

Just got off a flight from Phonsavan to Vientiane--a 35 minute hop instead of a 10 hour long bus ride on roads designed by race course architects for the super g ski race or luge track/bobsled track designers. Had a 50% shot at being on a Chinese made aircraft (which is what I was hoping for) but was on an ATR72--a plane operated by such carriers like American Eagle. Got to the airport two hours before departure--and the airport was basically a shack that only serves this one flight that is 4x weekly in the low season, 1x daily in the high season. Plane was less than half full, but as we started to take off, we started swerving back and forth, which was a little unnerving. Flew across the spine of the various mountains in Laos, allowing for some spectacular views, and the ride was surprisingly calm until we got into the Mekong flood plain near Vientiane, where we hit some turbulence, and we landed well off the runway centerline. The last five minutes weren't for the faint of the heart. But I'm alive, and that's all that matters.

I don't know why, but soft, cheesy rock from the 80s is extremely popular in Cambodia and Laos. Everywhere I've been, I've heard songs from two artists: Richard Marx and Chris Debarge (lady in red). I've even heard remakes of these songs that make the originals sound like grammy nominees. Talk about bizarre.

So, the minivan ride to Phonsavan was quite an adventure as our driver tried to set a land speed record on a winding road. The view was simply spectacular--northern laos is covered in green forested mountains and ricefields, and there is an untouched, wild quality about it. I tried to take some pictures, but most of them didn't come out.

Arrive in Phonsavan in the heaviest rain storm I've experienced since arriving in SE Asia, which makes finding a guesthouse kind of hard. Six of us (out of the 8 on the minivan) agree to stick together, and head to Lonely Planet's "our pick." The place was closed--and was off the beaten path--no surprise. After wandering around, we find a place that we initially thought was quite sketchy because of the broken glass bottles on top of the fence, but it was actually quite nice (except for some of the bugs). Of course, all of us have do three shots each of whiskey from a johnnie walker bottle that is definitely not johnnie walker whiskey, which the guesthouse owner drinks first just so we know that it wouldn't blind us or wasn't actually paint thinner.

There's not much going on in Phonsavan--its a remote, not very touristy town, and while there are plenty of restaurants along the main drag, it definitely has a frontier, dusty feel to it--its also slightly cooler, being at 3600 feet elevation. In Laos, surprisingly, the more rural the place, the faster the internet. In vientiane and luang prabang, the internet can be painfully slow, but in vang vieng and phonsavan, it was american-speed.

After drying out some of my clothes and my bag from the rain, AJ and I decide to exploring a little bit, and stumble in on the MAG center for Phonsavan. MAG is an NGO that is dedicated to clearing mines and unexploded ordinance, and the Lao that work there all speak very good english. Tipsily, we joined a group of several other westerners (the non-tipsy ones) to watch the Lonely Planet popularized "Bombies" documentary about the Secret War in Laos and the cluster bombs. It was actually a fairly decent documentary, although it was definitely biased as I would later find out according to some information provided by our tour guide the next day. Probably the most disturbing piece of information to my ears was the fact that US bombers flying from Thai air bases to Vietnam that were unable to attack their targets were simply told to dump their live ordinance over the Lao countryside to avoid the possibility of a mishap on landing with a belly full of live bombs. The reason why UXO is especially dangerous is that when the U.S. did decide to attack planned targets in Laos, they focused on the flatter areas--near the main roads, and where the best farmland was. All and all, being an American in Laos is definitely a little odd, especially when you see places that proudly display old, defused bombs and use them in all sorts of manners, and you realize that most of it was manufactured in the U.S.

BTW, MAG is definitely worth supporting--they have a website--but they should really get the word out more in the U.S. In Phonsavanh, they are taking the wise tactic in getting donations: donate $10, get a free tshirt with their name on it for some free advertising. Guess who has a new tshirt to add to his collection?

After meeting up and having dinner, and running into the australian father and daughter that were at our same guesthouse in Luang Prabang, we head back to the guesthouse, and I try to take a shower. Much to me and AJ's dismay, the water had been turned off for the night. We also saw a giant bug the size of a man's palm right next to one of our travelling party's door.

Next day, we all decide to split the cost of hiring a tour guide and driver to go around the Phonsavan area to see the Plain of Jars and some other interesting sites. We go back about 40 km on the same road where we stop at a limestone cave filled with a buddha that was only recently rediscovered, but was looted by the Chinese in the 1880s. The cave was also used by the Pathet Lao (the Lao Communist party) as a hospital during the war, and there is one leftover "bed"--which is actually a former aircraft maintenence platform manufactured in the U.S., and still has the manufacturer's serial number on it. I'm sure somewhere in a government archival warehouse, there are records of this exact platform being shipped over to Laos.

We walk about 500 yards to another nearby cave which served as the Pathet Lao infirmary, and is still littered with old glass medical containers and syringes--to which I remarked that it was probably a bad idea that all of us wore open toed shoes that day. The guide gave us a general background on the history, and what he said that contradicted some of the information presented in the Bombies documentary is that while the U.S. is indeed responsible for the majority of the UXO, the Xieng Khouang province, where Phonsavan was located, was occupied by as many as three different armies during the lao civil war, including by the North Vietnamese, the Pathet Lao, and the Lao Royalist army. Meaning that while it is easy to blame the U.S. for all the UXO, there is plenty of it that was leftover by the other three parties, which means that filing a lawsuit is pretty difficult since you could only do so post-explosion, which would eliminate all pieces of evidence of the bomb in question.

Xieng Khouang was one of the most heavily bombed provinces in Laos because it was traditionally the Pathet Lao headquarters and homebase, as well as being a thoroughfare of the Ho Chi Minh trail.

We drive a little ways back towards town when we stop at a random turnoff along the side of the road. The semi-straight dirt road we were looking at and that is now lined with various houses and shacks, and grazed upon by cows and chickens, was once the site of a CIA airstrip and Lao Royalist encampment. While little evidence remains, you can tell by the flattened and straightened dirt path that it could have easily served as an airbase for some prop planes. We dodge the various cows and water buffalo alongside the road while having our ears decimated by the sounds of our driver's poor musical taste--some really obscure soft rock songs, get back to town, and break for lunch. The scenery is pretty, though--picture a hybrid between the Big Island's paniolo country near waimea and the foothills of the rocky mountains--green rolling hills whose valleys are populated by ricefields. Though not necessarily obvious, you can clearly make out patches of dirt or depressions in generally flat or grassy areas--those are bomb craters, or remnants of land hit by them.

AJ and I try to book air tickets for the next day, but are unsuccesful in finding a place. Hop on the van and drive farther down route 7, and then we hit a dirt road turn off and head uphill. Looking outside the window, we find ourselves on some sort of high plains--a wide valley/basin with rich farmland dotted with rolling hills as far as the eye can see and surrounded by high, tree covered mountains.

The guide decides to first stop at the whiskey village--which all of us politely decline and decide to continue on down the road (the whole concept sounded like disneyland for drinkers--just a manufactured tourist trap). We buy our tickets, and climb up a hill dotted with a wooden stairs and stumble upon Site 2 of the Plain of Jars.

The Plain of Jars are the premier tourist attraction in Phonsavan. The Plain of Jars is a collection of four sites with a cluster giant stone jars, most about the same height as your average person. People aren't sure what their purpose was--various theories abound--but the most likely theory is that they served as funerary urns--which makes sense, when you realize that other cemeteries in the area are also perched on top of hills. The Jars were cool, but the main attraction was the panorama view of the surrounding countryside, which was spectacular to look at.

Though they are well-known, and people think that the Jars are a UNESCO World Heritage site, they aren't for one major reason: the Plain of Jars is one of the most heavily UXO contaminated archaelogical sites in the world, and their application for "World Heritage" status will only be approved once the areas can be certified to be entirely free of UXO. Right now, the sites have only been visually cleared by MAG--and only subsurface cleared beneath a clearly lined path. This is one place where you definitely do not want to go off the beaten path--since you could easily come home in a bodybag.

For whatever reason, US bombers targeted the areas of these sites, with some of the bombs destroying some of the jars. You can still see the flattened depressed bomb craters just yards away from the main jar sites, and it is a wonder how these sites managed to avoid being entirely obliterated. The bomb craters may now be filled with vegetation and trees, but they are unmistakeable to the naked eye. The whole scene--archaeological treasures, rural farmland and the pastoral lifestyle, and war remnants--makes for an interesting, if chaotic contrast, as you try to wrestle with all of these different images and incidents.

There are several sites, and we visited 3 of 4--the 3 which coincidentally provided the best views, and all of us were astounded and awestruck by what we were seeing. Then, we returned to a village where bomb material is used as building material, and returned back to Phonsavan while being serenaded by the sounds of Celine Dion in our ears.

Of course, this wouldn't be a proper end to a post unless I engaged in some Lonely Planet bashing. I reread their descriptions of the various sites, and saw where they stated that the 3 sites we visited were only accessible via steep trails, and one of the three was a strenuous 2km walk. I could have done all three of those climbs in my sleep--they were no different than walking up any other hill in any city. If you can walk on New York's streets, than you can do the Plain of Jars. Plain of Jars "strenuous" while Merapi easily done by people in okay physical shape? Bravo, LP, good job.

Walking away over 40 cents

My travelling party of three was cut down by one when one of the party left to join some other travellers bound to locations farther north, and AJ and I weren't ready to leave Luang Prabang (rhymes with gong).

The Australian couple told us of a museum that they visited, a museum so new it wasn't mentioned in any guidebooks, and it sounded like an interesting place, so after grabbing food, we strolled over there, passing the Luang Prabang Provincial Police HQs along the way, which looked like a decaying cold war relic with a wall covered with a massive faded red background and faded yellow hammer and sickle next to the faded red white and blue of the Lao flag.

The museum was the visitor's center for Lao UXO, a government organization backed by the U.N. and other non-profits that is dedicated to clearing the unexploded ordinance (UXO) that still litters the Lao countryside and is still maiming and killing people 30+years after it was dropped, as well as educating the populace and schoolchildren to avoid such sites and to not play with any unknown metal or items that you find.

It was a small museum, but very well done, and covered with defused bombs so you know what they look like. (I'll discuss the U.S. involvement in Laos in another post, since it is much more relevant to my activities in Phonsavan.) There are several reasons why UXO is still a problem for Laos--one, there is simply so much of it, and lots of it is buried just underneath the surface, and there are countless of examples of farmers or people digging in their yards striking a metal object and it subsequently exploding; two, the majority of the uxo are small "bombies"--the tennis ball sized mini bombs dropped by cluster bombs and released in midair and scattered over a wide area, which means they aren't as readily noticeable, and are the perfect size and shape to attract the attention of local kids (mainly boys) who then use them as toys; three, Laos is one of the poorest countries on earth, and the scrap metal trade, though illegal, is one way to make extra money to feed your family, so people are sometimes so desperate that they try to break apart a bomb, knowing full well of the risk of doing so; four, clearing the fields of UXO is a time-consuming, labor intensive process, and there simply aren't enough teams/groups of people out there to get to every site and clear it immediately; finally, though they know the general area that the bombs were dropped, it is impossible to pinpoint the exact location of where the materiel landed, so you have to rely on villagers who accidentally run into or discover relics and scrap to inform you.

As a lighter note, they showed a documentary ending with JFK, with his irish bostonian accent, butchering the pronounciation of Laos (his version rhymed with "chaos"--it actually should be said similar to the word "louse").

I then decided to rent a bike, which made for all sorts of interesting adventures, as it was next to impossible to control, and had brakes that squealed like little pigs. After finally getting the hang of it, I rode down the Mekong, boarded a local barge, and crossed the river to try to explore the other side. Unfortunately, most of the roads over there were dirt roads, and I had no desire to pay the full replacement cost for the bike, so I headed back over. Just as I get on board the barge, accompanied on board by a minivan and a pickup truck with two water buffalo in the back (there aren't any bridges over the mekong near Luang Prabang), it starts to rain. Hard. You could see it coming down river, looking like a wall of white. I was shielded for a little while, but after the successful crossing, I was immediately exposed to the rain, and retreated to my guest house which was thankfully nearby to wait out the storm.

After the rain had fallen (thanks Sting!), I kept exploring, stashing my bag in my room, to avoid it getting soaked. While riding, I realized there is in fact something tweaky about my left knee, and that six weeks of travelling has left me a little out of shape--there is a noticeable crown to Luang Prabang, so while riding downhill and coasting was quite fun, getting back uphill wasn't necessary as fun. Of course, it started raining again. Hard. I was forced to seek shelter underneath a gas station before finally resuming my travels.

There's a wooden bridge only accessible to motorbikes and bikes, and I was feeling adventurous, so I decided to cross it and ride for a little while in the Laos countryside just outside of town. Because my front tire had a mind of its own, keeping it on the level two by fours that formed a slightly elevated path/balance beam over the wooden planks of the bridge proved to be an exercise in wrestling.

As I'm riding just outside of town, a teenager wearing a green shirt riding up ahead looks back, slows down, and starts riding beside me. Because I'm an American, I start to get a little bit suspicious, and am thankful for my bag being back at my place--he could have only stolen my hat, sunglasses, and a bottle of water. There was nothing to be concerned about, though. He was simply riding to the hospital up the road, and just wanted to have a friendly conversation and practice his english. When he reached his turn, he said goodbye, and went on his way.

By sheer coincidence, I managed to pick the road that led out and ended at the airport terminal, just 4kms outside of town. After getting there, I turned around and headed back, returning the bike, and rested at my guesthouse for a while.

I wanted to do two things that night--arrange onward transportation to Phonsavan (coincidentally, an australian man and his twenty something daughter, and their former neighbor who were staying at our guesthouse headed there early that morning. I wish I could have had a sound recorder to record the two men's voices, because they had some of the greatest Australian accents I have ever heard--a slow drawl that sounded like their mouths were full of gravel), and do some souvenir shopping at the night market.

In markets in SE Asia, bargaining is a must. As a tourist, I know that getting the local price will be impossible. That doesn't mean, though, that I can't get a fair price--which is usually amounts to paying your original starting price, plus about 1/3 of the original difference between your price and the seller's price. By "fair" price, I mean a price that I don't mind paying so that i don't feel like i'm getting ripped off, and a price that the seller is perfectly happy with.

For whatever reason, bargaining works a little bit different in Laos than in the rest of SE Asia--usually, if the only difference between your price and the seller's asking price amounts to less than a U.S. dollar, you can walk away, and the seller will then agree to that price. In Laos, they don't chase you.

I was looking into buying two tshirts--AJ had already bought a tshirt earlier, paying 15,000 kip for it, so we knew that 15,000 kip (a little less than two bucks) was a fair, market price to pay for a tshirt. Indeed, I bought one tshirt for that price after starting at 10,000, and the seller started at 25,000. I was looking around for another place to buy another tshirt, but several sellers refused to budge from 18,000 (about 40 cents) and agree to 15,000, even after I told them that I just paid that amount a couple of stalls down. They looked at me like I was crazy, and I walked off. It was their loss. Just a couple of more stalls down, after the seller started at 25,000, I told her that I had just bought a tshirt for 15,000, and she quickly agreed to the price, and the deal was done.

Some might find it petty that I would refuse to pay 40 more cents, especially in a place with so much poverty, but my argument is that by paying that extra money, I take business away from some of the vendors who are perfectly willing to settle for that price--and who could also use the money. I'm not driving the price down by any means--I'm just paying what I and the seller both feel is a fair price.

Anyway, off to Vientiane shortly via air from Phonsavan--AJ and I were not about to go on a 10 hour bus ride using the same route we took to Phonsavan, and it just so happens that two people on our minivan to Phonsavan are on the flight as well.

My knee still has a nice greenish/brownish bruise from being jammed against the seat in front of me for six hours.

Pictures are of me at the plain of Jars, and me with the owner of the guesthouse that insisted on pouring us liquor at checkin.

"Why don't you try to ruin some Led Zeppelin?"

Here are a couple of photos of me in Luang Prabang. Top one the mekong is behind me, the middle is next to an elephant statue at a buddhist temple, and the bottom is a panorama from the top of Phu Si--the tallest hill in Luang Prabang that overlooks the main area and is a must climb.

After returning from the waterfall, we all decide to meet up at this beautiful bar/restaurant overlooking the Nam Pha river--it definitely lived up to its name of "utopia"--and people start to talking. One of the guys mentions that a friend of a friend of a travelling buddy is going to be playing live music at a local bar tonight. Considering there really isn't much activity in Luang Prabang at night (other than the night market), we decide to head there after having dinner and meeting up with more people.

Knowing the traveller stereotype, I'm afraid of what I am going to witness. After going to this outdoor bar and drinking a lao lao cocktail--it was the cheapest thing available, and it was 2 for 1--it also tasted like sour stale lemonade, which was glad that I used my extra one on another person, the american female journalist (AJ from here on out).

We sit through a breakdancing performance by some local Lao teenagers, and though I realize that they are honestly trying to do a good job, after having lived in New York for a year and seen breakdancers on the subway, in subway stations, and in parks, I have to say that it was a bit of a let down, and they needed a wee bit more practice. After knowing what I know now, though, I would have gladly watched them perform the entire night if it meant that the main act never took the stage.

I have no musical talent whatsoever. I was probably responsible for several of my violin teacher's heart attacks, can't sing to save my life, and have a musical taste that some people find abhorrent and vomit inducing. And those people are the nice ones. That said, I know I have no talent, and do not put myself up on stage and act like I have talent when I clearly do not. I also have no desire to add to excedrin or tylenol's bottom line, which is why I do not even try to perform.

The guy walks on stage. I am already dreading the experience simply by looking at the guy. He has shaggy black hair and a full beard. Strike one. He is carrying an acoustic guitar case. Strike two. He is accompanied by several of his "Vang Vieng" tanktop wearing backpacking buddies (more on that in a moment). Strike three.

So, I generally ignore the guy and keep talking with AJ and several of the other people, as he appears to be playing either original stuff or Jack Johnson/indie songs fitting a guitar. AJ and I head to the other bar, just a block away, to see if there is anything else going on. It is filled with tank top wearing british gap year backpackers, as well as curiously being the site for a Lao child's birthday party--talk about a bizarre site, a children's birthday party next to some drunken backpackers. We make a beeline back to the original bar.

We get a pitcher or two of beer and are soon joined by an Australian couple. On this trip I've encountered plenty of Australians, and discovered that from 18-25, Aussies tend to be the stereotypical fun loving immature, over the top, drunks. After about 25 or so, they start to mellow out and are truly fun to hang out and have a beer or two with. They were on the good side of 25, and were great to hang out with.

AJ and I are having fun just talking and shooting the breeze with them, generally ignoring the musical trainwreck occurring on the stage about 10 yards from us. That's when I hear "knock, knock, knockin on heaven's door." I listen more closely, and my worst fear is confirmed. The guy is covering guns and roses' "knocking on heaven's door," and doing so horribly. Notice to any aspiring musicians out there: do not, under any circumstances, try or pretend to try to cover Guns n Roses. It is an abominable sin. You cannot replicate the unique screeching tone of Axl Rose's voice. The only thing worse than doing it on an acoustic guitar is doing it a cappella.

I am ticked off--and slightly tipsy--and AJ and the australian couple start paying even closer attention to the guy. Next up on horrendous cover list: "Leaving on a Jet Plane."

This is going to make me sound like a jerk, but this guy was really bad--and he didn't know it either. His idiot backpacker friends were all encouraging him to sing more and were shouting out requests. Meanwhile, AJ and the australians start throwing ideas of what to yell at him.

Yes, I was that guy. I was a heckler. In all fairness, though, the guy deserved it. I was about ready to vomit when he started to cover Outkast's "Hey Ya." Buddy, just so you know, memorizing various songs and strumming your acousting guitar to the tune of it doesn't make you an artist. It makes you a junior high student trying to learn the guitar.

So, we start tossing out ideas as the covers get any worse. I hate putting myself out there sometimes, so its nice to have some back up--two australians certainly qualify as backup, especially when one has informed us that the worst insult to an aussie is taking their beer. I start off with "you are giving my dead grandmother a headache," and it continues to other lines.

He promises that it will be his last song, to which all of us are grateful for, but with the encouragement of his backup crew, he decides to play a couple of encores. We all start screaming, "No" "You promised it would be your last song" "Get off the stage." People are shooting us dirty looks and giving us "WTF?" stares. I respond with the same. It's not my fault I don't believe in lying to someone and telling them that they are great when they all they do is remind me of the stereotypical guitar player in your college dorm that sits in the entry way and jams all day.

Out of nowhere, when there is a dead silence, AJ shouts "Why don't you try to ruin some Led Zeppelin?" I start laughing so hard I nearly spit out my beer and have to sit down my beer. If there had been any room on the floor, I would have hit the floor I was laughing so hard. The sheer timing was impeccable.

Thankfully, the guy heads off, and we leave, exchanging contact info with the aussies.

Next posts (probably later tonight or a couple tmw morning)--my letter to all gap year backpackers, luang prabang day 3--charlie goes shopping at the market!, bus ride to Phonsavanh and my day in phonsavanh.

Ignoring TLC's advice

Apologies if this post isn't as professionally done as my other posts. I just took a 6 hour minivan ride from Luang Prabang to Phonsavanh, which was like going down a bobsled track for six straight hours, and drank three shots of Lao Lao rice whisky with the owner of my guesthouse (what can I say, its a social obligation)--a 64 year old Lao man that could be the Laos version of Poppi, considering how much he was flirting with the 20 something western girls in our group. According to a former bobsledding Canadian in the van with us, though, bobsleds are much more stable than the van we were in.

Phonsavanh is like a wild west town, with dust in the air, and not as cleaned up or put together as some of the other Lao towns, with two story buildings lining the streets how they once did in western mining towns.

I have to ask, was it really necessary for the Lao government to put up "sharp curve" and the snake-turn signs every so often? When the road you are on hasn't had a straightaway longer than 50 yards since you started, I think its pretty safe to say that we know the road will be curvy up ahead. Maybe it would be better to put that money (and metal) into the erection of more guardrails along the road. It was easily a much tougher ride than the trip from Vang Vieng to Luang Prabang, and the american journalist and I are almost positively going to fly from Phonsavanh to Vientiane (30 minutes) instead of taking the 10 hour bus ride. I was ready to puke at certain stages.

When one is in Luang Prabang, it is best to ignore the advice of TLC's infamous hit song that reminds us to not "go chasing waterfalls." Do it--there's a waterfall and park area about 30kms away that is simply spectacular. Ever watch Saved by the Bell Hawaiian Style intro, with the giant waterfall? That's what it reminded me of. I could literally hear Will Smith's "summertime" playing in the background. Split a tuk-tuk ride with six other people, three of which I had met either days before, or the night before, and the other three just met on the tuk tuk, which was fine. The water was crystal clear, with a bluish tint, and it was refreshingly cool. It also had nice pools where you could go to swim if you were interested. Edenesque is the adjective I would use to describe it.

On the way, you pass an Asiatic black bear sanctuary. These bears have been rescued from the bile and animal part trade, and are now in enclosures, just hanging out. They even have hammocks made of old tires for the bears to relax in, and there is nothing more bizarre/hilarious than seeing a bear lay back in a hammock, just enjoying themselves.

Of course, I also managed to make a major faux pas while watching from the observation deck. I hear an asian language being spoken by some people next to me, and so I naturally assume that it is japanese, and say "sugoi"--meaning, great!--to which the guy responds, "Korean, not Japanese." Confusing Japanese with Korean may sound like an innocent mistake, but if you know history like I do, there is few worse things that you can say to a Korean, north or south, than calling them Japanese. South Korea and Japan might be allies now, but it is purely out of geopolitical necessity. The Koreans hate the Japanese (and have some justification for that position)--look up the term "comfort woman/women" and you will see why. My face turned beet red, and I immediately started apologizing, as I truly felt horrible. All was fine, though, and they were actually nice to talk to, and some wanted their pictures taken with me--they asked me where I went to school, and I said "Yale" and they all were very well aware of it.

I will fill in the rest of the details of the day/night/day later on, but I have to meet some people for dinner to talk about our plans for TMW. A teaser to entertain you for the next couple of hours? Figure out this quote: "Why don't you try to ruin some Led Zeppelin?"

Also, when you watch the travel channel, do so with a certain level of skepticism. Three nights before I left for Laos, the singapore hostel was showing the travel channel, and there was a program on Laos. The host was taking us on a tour of Laos, and decided to go to Phonsavanh, a place that he claimed was unreachable by road, and only reachable by air. My experience today gives me the right to say "bullshit" to that--yes the road is windy, but it is paved--its not my fault that you, Mr. Travel Channel host, were too much of a wimp to drive it.

Going to Phonsavanh

Will update my blog more fully when I get the chance (hint: when in Laos, ignore TLC's advice), but I will be heading to Phonsavanh tmw, a 7-8 hour ride to go see the plain of jars and some UXO.

Luang Prabang

I thought Vang Vieng was "unbelievable" for all the wrong reasons. Luang Prabang, a 7 hour bus ride away, is "unbelievable" for all the right reasons. I've been in SE Asia for 6.5 weeks now, and I have to say that if you are ever in the area, a trip here is simply a must do.

The town is the former, and traditional Lao capital--similar to how Siem Reap once was for the Khmers. It is perched on a peninsula surrounded by the Mekong on one side, and the Nam Pha on the other, and the northern tip of the peninsula is where the two rivers converge. Its also surrounded by high, forest covered mountains, giving it a very scenic setting.

It also helps that the place is loaded with well-preserved french architecture surrounded by traditional buddhist temples. It lends a very unique air to the place.

If you could compare SE Asian towns and cities to real types of people, than Luang Prabang would be an uber supermodel with a great personality and plenty of intelligence--extremely photogenic from all angles, and just a great place to be around.

There's a hilltop temple in the center of town that provides a great panorama of the place, and, unlike what the Lonely Planet guide says, you do not need to be fully covered to enter the royal palace museum. I and every other western tourist had no problem entering with tshirts and shorts. Yes, we had to take off our shoes and stow our bags, but that was understandable. The palace was unbelievable--well preserved, and recently renovated, it is probably the nicest palace i've been to in SE Asia.

Sometimes you manage to stumble across random things or people that you never expect to find in the middle of northern laos. I had two such incidents yesterday. The royal palace museum displays gifts from various nations to the people of laos, and of course, some from the U.S. are displayed. Sitting on a small trophy foundation, there is a red flag with white elephants on it, with some glass enclosed shards of rock just above it. The flag is the traditional flag of the lao monarchy, and the shards of rock are from the moon. The caption on the base of the foundation "this flag of laos was carried on board the apollo 11 moon mission by the astronauts, and these are pieces of the moon, presented to the people of Laos"--signed, President Nixon. I have to wonder what else was carried on the apollo 11 mission for political purposes, in addition to the small, shoulder patch sized lao flag.

Hours later, when I was wandering the night market directly next to the royal palace, I ran into a girl (not the indonesian teaching friend) who was Hockaday '04, and who I had not spoken to for literally six years. And we manage to run into each other in the middle of freaking Laos. Talk about it being a small world.

The night market is easily the nicest I've seen in all of SE Asia--they actually close off an active street between 530pm and 1030pm for the vendors to display their wares, and there really isn't that much "crap" for sale--yes, you can get your usual souvenir tshirt, but you can also have your pick of lots of traditional textiles and handicrafts.

The sunset is simply spectacular as well, especially when you are watching it from a bamboo shack on the other side of a river that you had to cross over via a rickety bamboo bridge.

Of course, not all news is good news. I've managed to lose my headlight/flashlight, and I had to buy baby powder to combat the possibility of prickly heat. Prickly heat is a non-infectious, non health threatening skin rash that occurs in the tropics when sweat can't leave the body--and it is starting to occur on my back, where i wear a backpack, so when I sweat, the moisture can't necessary leave it. I had it once before, in Fiji, and while it poses zero threat to my physical health, it feels like a bunch of ants are crawling all over you and biting. There's really not much you can do for it other than use baby powder, air conditioning/fans, and cold water showers. All of which I have been doing.

"This place is evil"

The most famous utterance "I am in Hell! I am in Hell!" was by Fletcher Christian, the lead mutineer on the HMS Bounty, when he accosted Bounty Captain William Bligh and proceeded to take over the ship (for a great account of the world's most famous mutiny, read Caroline Alexander's "The Bounty"--it dispels ls a lot of popular myths about Bligh and the bounty incident and reveals that by British naval standards at the time, Bligh was hardly the tyrant that he is made out to be in pop culture--in fact, he was one of the more lenient ones. It was Christian who had the issues--his descendants, who still live on Pitcairn Island, have them as well)





Last night, a 24 year old American also used that same phrase as he wandered around Vang Vieng and witnessed the hardcore drug infused frat party carnage that was taking place all around him. According to a fellow sober American, it was worse the night before.





Vang Vieng is truly a beautiful place. It is a valley surrounded by tall karst peaks covered in green, and the sunset was magical. It is located on the main tourist route between Vientiane and Luang Prabang. It is set up to be one of Laos' great outdoor destinations, with lots of caves to explore, and plenty of trekking opportunities.





It isn't. Its a hellhole, one that I'm glad to be leaving, and probably the most depressing place I've seen in SE Asia.





Why? Because at night, the place becomes Cancun spring break, the Lao version.





I hate to get on my high horse, and go on a holier than thou rant, but I have to. This place deserves it. Vang Vieng is due for a major cleanup, and while there are still some redeeming qualities about it (the scenery, and some of the honest local shop owners), the window for a redeeming transformation is rapidly fading.





If anybody working for BBC, ABC (Australia), or another media outlet in either the U.K. or Australia is reading this and looking for a quick and easy expose to establish your name, then come to Vang Vieng and show the people of your country what some of your darling youth are really doing on their gap year. It should make any parent want to lock up their kids if they even so much as utter the words "Vang Vieng" as a possible destination.



Bars with "Friends" and "family guy" on constant repeat may be a depressing sight, but it is downright cheery compared to watching 20 year olds stumble around high and drunk on gosh knows what in a foreign country. Even though drugs are illegal, they are certainly available. All you have to do is ask any bar or restaurant catering to westerners for the "special" menu. Kids stumble around, sometimes literally in circles, not knowing where or who they are.



Down by the river, the bars illuminated with their flashbulb and neon lights in an otherwise pitch black environment was eerily similar to the scene in Apocalypse Now where they have that big party on the river.

Because I knew that I would probably be heading out the next day on a long bus ride, I purposely only had one drink, and then stuck to 7up and water for the rest of the night. I managed to meet an American girl who told me of all that she had seen, and that she couldn't wait to get the heck out of there the next day--apparently, the night before, there were two westerners at some bar, trashed and blitzed out of their minds, having just combined valium with all sorts of narcotics and alcohol, and were playing around with a machete while shocking each other with a bug zapper/taser.

She had come to Vang Vieng with several other people who she had just met, most of whom were bent on getting as blitzed and high as possible. She was pretty much sober, and just walking around because there wasn't anything else to do. We wound up at a laid back restaurant, where the other members of the party ordered from a special menu, and I chose to live dangerously by drinking a 7up--out of a capped bottle!

I only bring up going to the restaurant because the american and I started talking to the owner, a native Lao, who could speak very good English. The american girl and I had noticed that there were all sorts of deadbeat Westerners with dreadlocks and tanktops ("derelicts" the american girl called them) working at these bars, and was wondering whether or not it was legal. It turns out, it isn't. Just about all of these western bar workers are working there illegally, and getting room and board in exchange for working at a bar for zero salary. Meaning that they are cheap labor to the Lao businessmen, and are cheating native Lao out of a job.

The restaurant owner was himself appalled by what was taking place in Vang Vieng--evil spirits he said had seemed to take over the place--and he only offered the special menu because he had to to stay in business, but he purposely makes the special items very very weak. He just wanted to see people happy, not blitzed. Lao from other parts of the country come to Vang Vieng to purposely make money off of western substance tourists by feeding drugs and the like to them, and compete with Vang Vieng natives also trying to go after the tourist buck.

The other American and I though told him that what he should do is to try to organize with a bunch of other local businesses to vow not to use western tourists as cheap labor (no matter how willing they would be), and should start up an organization of sorts to help the local economy, by choosing to only hire and employ Lao, and come up with some sort of badge or sticker that businesses who only use locals can stick on their doors so that tourists know that their money isn't going into some deadbeat looking to stay on a permanent high.

The cops in Vang Vieng are all plain clothed, so I have no idea how many were out there, and the nature of Laos means that crime and hospitalization statistics are pretty much unavailable, even though it would be interesting to see them, especially in cases of hospitalization.

BTW, doing drugs in any foreign country is stupid. Doing them in Laos is especially stupid. Hospitals and medical facilities are poor and inadequate, and all guide books recommend that if you need medical care, get thee to Thailand ASAP. Vang Vieng is relatively isolated--it has no air service, and only accessible via a 3 hour winding road from Vientiane. Which means if something bad happens, you are probably S.O.L.

Fortunately, I was able to get on the 10 am bus to Luang Prabang where I currently am--a beautiful city that I can't wait to explore, especially after having endured a 7 hour bus ride of constant S turns, driven by a driver who had no idea how to drive, with no air con other than open windows (which didn't help because it rained half the trip). It was a pretty drive, though--lots of spectacular views of the mountains and valleys.

Casualties of the Trip

Made it to Vang Vieng on the VIP bus--let's just say if that was the VIP bus, then I would hate to see the ordinary bus. Vang Vieng is about halfway as the crow flies between Luang Prabang and Vientiane, but it takes twice as long to get from Vang Vieng to Luang Prabang as it does from Vientiane to Vang Vieng. Why? Because northern laos is pretty mountainous, and the road, though in better condition than Preston Road, is windy and snakelike (Vientiane is in the flat plains of the mekong). The only time the bus ever went over 50km/hr (i was sitting near the driver's seat, so I saw the spedometer) was on the straightaways. Otherwise, once we hit the foothills about two hours from Vientiane, it was a steady 20-40km pace.

Drive was very pretty though, if a bit windy. Clifford would not have liked it. Lots of green tree covered mountains.

Scenery here is very pretty--surrounded by green karst mountains. My cousins would love it here--they have bars and restaurants where you can sit around all day watching episodes of Friends on tv.

We'll see how long I stay here. Either I'll head out to Luang Prabang tmw, or in two days.

Six weeks, and I have a brief casualty report:
the cord I used to link my camera to the computer--lost it somewhere in siem reap, but bought a nifty little usb stick that I could stick my memory card into and would upload the photos.

my new balance tennis shoes--in yogyakarta, after having gotten me up Merapi.

the glass face of my watch, which cracked when it slipped in the shower and fell on the floor in Kuala Lumpur. I have temporarily remedied the solution by enclosing it with strips of scotch tape to protect it, but there are some pretty decent cracks in it. Bus driver was making fun of me for having it, pointing to his watch and showing me how nice it was. My reply? But your watch makes your wrist turn green. Mine doesn't. Guy started laughing his head off.

Random fact:
I don't know what the Canadians did to ever tick off the Lao, but they certainly did something. Whereas a basic tourist visa on arrival costs $35 for US and lots of other western countries, Canadians have to pay $42. Cubans do not get any level of communist solidarity--they have to pay $30.

This tastes familiar...

In SE Asia, travellers often rave about one beer more than the others, and that is Beerlao. So, being in Laos, I did as the locals do, and had one. It was indeed very good, but it also had an eerily similar taste, like I had drank something similar to it beforehand.

That's when it hit me--if you want to know what Beerlao tastes like, go drink a Shiner Bock. To the casual beer drinker, the two aren't distinguishable.

Meanwhile, onto discussing my hygienic practices. Relative to other people travelling the same route, I've been relatively clean. I try to do laundry once every ten days, if not two weeks max, and rarely wear boxers more than once. My mother would probably be appalled to know that the same doesn't necessarily apply to tshirts, and it definitely doesn't apply to shorts or socks. I shower and brush my teeth at least once a day, and have not been growing out a beard. Not because of any particular health reason, but because after about three days of not shaving, I start to get itchy. I probably do need a haircut, though, but that will have to wait until I'm back in the states.

I even, *gasp,* used moisturizing lotion for the first time on my own volition--skin was starting to get dried out by the sun. How do I know what I used is moisturizing lotion and not some scam product? Because of where I bought it. At a chain pharmacy (SE Asia's CVS). In Singapore. In the Singaporean equivalent to the financial district.

Meanwhile, I'm off to take a bus to Vang Vieng tmw., a stop that will either be shorter than anticipated or longer than anticipated, depending on whether or not I like it. I would normally skip a place like it--backpacker haven, boozing (and other stuff...) 24/7, etc.--but it is on the road from Vientiane to Luang Prabang, Laos' premier tourist attraction, and helps break up what would otherwise be a nearly 10 hour bus ride into two shorter segments. Its also known for being a very pretty place.

Be advised, as I leave Vientiane, internet access will probably become less reliable in other parts of Laos.

Photos

Proof that it is actually me typing up these posts. Photo at the bottom was actually taken by a Burmese couple that now live in thailand. First Burmese people I've ever met--sorry, but the python doesn't count as a person.

Also, skype might be great for those of you wishing to save money on long-distance and international phone calls, but its annoying as heck to those of us who have to listen to your conversations in an internet cafe. It might as well be another version of using your cell phone in public places. I'm almost tempted to start up an internet site where people can post what they overheard from people using their cellphone in public. Its not that I don't want to learn about your life--I'm sure its incredibly interesting--its just that I don't care about every mundane detail. If you are going to broadcast the details of your life to everyone sitting/standing around you, then at least make it juicy. None of this mundane mumbo jumbo. What I wouldn't give to be fluent in several different european and asian languages right now. Imagine the stuff I could learn!

Meanwhile, it appears that news of Celine Dion's musical death has been greatly exaggerated. It seems that Laos and Cambodia missed the memo sent out to the entire world that "my heart will go on"--the titanic song. Don't pretend you haven't heard it or know it. You know exactly what it is and have the aspirin bill to prove it--should have vanished like the Y2K scare. Yet I've heard it more times in the past three weeks than I've heard it in the past decade--some people even use it as their personalized cell phone ring, a pet peeve of mine that I've previously discussed.

So, the french couple in Phnom Penh. Proof that smoking ages you? They both looked to be in their late twenties. Turns out I was older than both of them. The girl could speak okay english--but the guy could hardly speak it--and they had spent the past several months driving in a camper van around australia. What's interesting is when you apologize to people (europeans) who can't speak english well, and tell them the words that you do know. With me, its usually a mixture of basic words (hello, goodbye, etc.), historical terms (ie. in french, pied noir--name given to the french colonists who lived in algeria), and your good old fashioned cuss words.

This is usually bound to create some sort of laughter, especially when you manage to mispronounce the cuss word or term in question. For whatever reason, I forget that the "silent e" in english came from french, and typically pronounce french words with the "e" at the end, like I would in german--the closest thing I have to a second language. So, when I was telling them what I knew in french, I kept saying (phonetically) mer-deh, and they both gave me a quizzical look as if to say what the heck is this american talking about. After some gesturing they finally realized that the term I knew was merde, pronounced phonetically as merdt.

If you watch hockey, though, you'd know that the french or at least the quebecois french word for stop "arete" is no longer being used by those in montrealers. In a rare case of linguistic unity, both the anglo-montrealers and the french-montrealers now agree that the debate over whether to use "stop" or "arete" on the red octagonal signs is now over. They've chosen "Halak" as a replacement. If you watch or follow hockey, then you get the joke. If you don't, then I have to explain that "Halak" is the last name of the Montreal goaltender that has had a breakout playoff year and is the main reason why Montreal, the statistically worst team to qualify for the playoffs out of both conferences, has managed to upset both the NHL's regular season champions (the Washington Capitals) and the defending Stanley Cup Champions (Pittsburgh Penguins). Of course, the magical playoff run appears to be over, as les Habs are down 3-1 to the Philadelphia Flyers, but the boys in rouge have rallied once already from a 3-1 series deficit, and the Flyers themselves overcame a 3-0 series deficit this playoff season.

In the west, San Jose continues to prove that they are the hockey version of the Dallas Mavericks--great in the regular season and talented enough to be the favorites for the stanley cup, but can never get their act together in the playoffs (read: big time chokers). They are down to Chicago 3 games to none.

"No Photo! No Photo!"

For the first time all trip, I was actually yelled by a security guard. Which security guard? The one in front of the U.S. Embassy in Vientiane--a place located off a side street from one of Vientiane's landmarks. I told the guy that I was an American citizen, and produced my passport to prove it, but he still said no. I asked why, and he said not allowed. Look, I understand not allowing photography at certain sites, like those of special cultural and religious significance, as well as those sites important for national security like top secret installations and the like.

But this was an embassy. Its supposed to be seen. And its in Laos, for gosh sakes. When I was in Egypt four years ago--a place in a region where there is a considerably greater threat to the U.S. and Americans than in S.E. Asia--I had no problem walking right past the car barricade wearing a backpack, and taking all the photos I wanted of the American embassy in Cairo. Yet I can't do the same in Laos? Oy vey.

As another point of reference, I walked right up to the gate of the Lao Presidential Palace and took all the photos I wanted.

Vientiane is nice. Its just tiny. You can pretty much see all there is to see by about 1 or 2 in the afternoon--even if you decide to take a leisurely pace and wander around, like I did.

There are definitely some bizarre sites here: like seeing freshly baked french baguettes at the lao market surrounded by all sorts of native produce, or previously elegant french villas and maisons crumbling and being shadows of what they once were. Its definitely more french than Phnom Penh was. There are also quite a few good bakeries in the city--including one just down the street from my hotel called the scandinavian bakery, where I had breakfast. My mom would have a field day trying all the sweets and pastries that the place offered.

I also got horrendously overcharged by a tuk-tuk driver, but that was my own fault for not negotiating--it was hot, and I just wanted a ride. I was taken for a ride, in more than one way.

Saw the holiest site in Laos (where photography is definitely allowed)--a golden buddhist stupa--and the so-called "vertical runway" the lao version of the arc de triomphe that looks nice from afar, but just looks like carved and sculpted concrete from nearby. on the other side of the traffic circle was a giant building that I have little doubt is the headquarters of the Lao communist party--the giant lao flag next to the giant hammer and sickle flag gave it away. Cool looking building though.

Other stuff:
There are certain songs that need to be formally banned from being remade--when I was in Siem Reap, a remake of michael jackson's "beat it" done by fallout boy or some other indie/alternative band started playing, and I wanted to hop in a delorean, go back in time, and use one of the men in black laser mind eraser things on whoever taught the people in that band how to play music.

Was resting in my vientiane hotel room when the cleaning staff knocked on the door. I know no lao other than their word for hello, and they didn't know any english. Made for an interesting encounter/interaction of using hand signals and miming to understand what exactly it is they wanted.

Was at a bar last night that was how the Foreign Correspondents Club of Cambodia was supposed to feel like--an actual expat bar and not a borderline tourist attraction. Because of the slow pace of life here, it is very easy to feel like an expat worker.

I've met three french or ethno french people in SE Asia--one in Yogyakarta (technically swiss, but from the french speaking region), two in Phnom Penh, from around Bordeaux. Two guys, one girl. Both guys had beards and smoked. The girl also smoked. How's that for proving stereotypes?

French-swiss guy in Yogya was a riot--talk about a hilarious experience--I was having dinner at a restaurant, and all the other seats were filled except for the other one at my table, so I told him it was okay for him to sit and have a drink and a smoke. He was 45 years old, looked older than my father, and had a faded hippy vibe to him. Çlaimed that he didn't know much english, and that all he wanted to do was drink, and that he would leave me alone and be quiet.

Well, he knew more english than he let on, and was extremely talkative, going on all sorts of rants and explanations, and I was laughing my ass off. I don't remember exactly what was said, but I remember when he left thinking "now that was something you don't experience every day."

Thought vientiane was eerily quiet until I went to the market--that's where all the action was on a lazy sunday morning.

Charlie in Commie-land!

When I was formally admitted today to the PDR of Laos, it marked the first time I ever stepped foot in a communist country. Considering the amount of private enterprise in the country, I'm not exactly sure that the governing philosophy is a pure reflection of Marxist ideals.

Others mentioned that Laos felt like how SE Asia was 20 years ago, and I can kind of understand that--the pace here is definitely a little bit slower than in other parts of SE Asia, and, "gasp," there were actually no touts at the airport!

The only time I've heard a car honk is when I mentioned to the cab driver how quiet it seemed--that not a lot of cars were honking. He looked at me puzzled until I said beep beep, and motioned with my hand on a make believe steering wheel. His response was "oh, you mean like..." and he then proceeded to tap the horn a couple of times.

There are, however, little things that indicate to me that Laos may be catching up with the rest of the SE Asia--like the two or three tuk-tuk drivers who asked me if I want a lady. You do not want a lady in Laos, and it has nothing to do with physical appearance--it is illegal for foreigners and lao women to copulate even if it is purely consensual and no money changes hands. If you are caught, then you face a stiff fine and some jail time. As I've mentioned, I have no desire to star in my own version of "brokedown palace," but that doesn't mean that there isn't an underground industry here--anytime you see an elderly european male with a young asian lady, you definitely start to think that it probably isn't true love.

For whatever reason, both capitals for the countries comprising French Indochina (Excluding Vietnam) are both located on the Mekong river--the difference is that while Phnom Penh has a well developed riverfront and riverwalk, Vientiane is in the process of rebuilding theirs, so the riverfront looks like a giant construction site. The project should be finished in October 2010, but I'm not so sure given the state of how things looked.

Otherwise the place is definitely more relaxed with less hustle and bustle than other places in SE Asia.

The 5.5 hour bus ride from Singapore to Kuala Lumpur was probably the nicest bus ride I've been on--granted it was a first class coach with seats the equivalent in width to airline first class seats (and this was the service recommended to me by my hostel). Didn't mind it one bit.

I love Malaysia, and outside of Singapore, Kuala Lumpur is probably the most western-friendly SE Asian capital, but they really need to get better cab drivers. I'm batting .500 in getting ones that know where they are going. I told the guy the specific address of the place I was going to, and he started asking me if I knew where it was, and if I had been there before. It didn't help that traffic was bad, and he was in no mood to have me in the car any longer than necessary (i used a prepaid taxi coupon, so he couldn't charge me any extra). After driving around, he looks at me and asks if I have the phone number. I didn't--and he looked at me like I was nuts. Excuse me? You're the cab driver--you're supposed to know where the place is--or at least you sure as heck claimed to when I was booking the taxi service. Yes, I realize that the street is a one way street and that traffic is bad, but you know what that means? You should probably start at the beginning of the street and then drive towards the end.

Fortunately, even though he decided to join the street midway through, my place was literally located on the other side of the junction, so he managed to find it by pure flukiness--even though the address was squarely on the building--the same address I had been repeating to him.

BTW, any remark that I made about KL being a bit sleepy needs to be retracted--I was merely in the wrong area. It definitely has its own nightclub and bar scene, with the underground or informal industry in full operation--and you could take plenty of these bars and nightclubs and put them in any U.S. city and they'd fit in--it was like being in the West Village in Dallas.

Plane ride from KL to Vientiane was relatively smooth--given its the tropics, thunderstorms and weather systems start to build up throughout the day, so flying is always a bit bumpier in the afternoon than it is in the morning. It also helps that it was Air Asia, a reliable and dependable carrier that offers low fares, and who uses the attractiveness of its flight attendants in ads suggestive enough to make any feminist churn with rage (think nerdy guy sitting in an airplane surrounded by at least five model-esque flight attendants--the tag line "hot seats")--if they really wanted to upset the feminists, though, they'd drop the flight attendant label and use "sky candy" instead.

Laos, via Malaysia

I have an hour before I will be picked up by my bus that is taking me to Kuala Lumpur. It's a 5.5 hour ride versus a 1 hour plane flight, but I'd rather not deal with getting into KL from the airport, especially from the LCCT. Until they do something about making the LCCT linked via rail, and making it cheap in the process, Singapore is probably the better hub to go through if you are not just making a same day flight connection--as long as your flight leaves after 730 am, and you make hostel reservations in advance.

TMW, I will be flying Air Asia flight AK612, leaving KUL at 1510, and arriving in Vientiane at 1645, thus accomplishing my goal of avoiding bangkok, but paying a pretty penny to do so.

What will I do in KL? Mainly stock up on things that may not be available in Laos, like the basics including toothpaste, another toothbrush (i had to throw one out because it got contaminated with cambodian tap water, and I didn't want to risk the cambodian version of montezuma's revenge), and bug spray.

Otherwise, I'll just hang out and relax for the less than 24 hours I will be there.

Singapore, and southeast asia as a whole, has gone world cup crazy, literally counting down the days until the games begin--21, according to today's tabloid. What's interesting is that they are world cup crazy even though the closest country to qualify for the tournament is Australia. The closest asian country? south korea. If you use the newspapers as a prism for which to understand singapore as a whole, the favorite team in these parts is decidedly england.

I have to admit that I feel a little bit of American soccer guilt. The U.S. has qualified for the world cup, and will be playing in it, but most Americans could probably care less, or at most, are ho-hum about it--the mindset being: yes we qualified, and I'm happy that we did, and I hope we do well, but if we don't, then its no big deal...it's only soccer after all. Compare that to SE Asia, where people would probably be dying of heart attacks if their team actually managed to qualify, and entire countries would likely shut down to watch the games when their team took the field. I mean, I'll probably watch some of the games, but the only time my heart rate will actually flutter is when I get off the couch to get either a drink or go to the bathroom.

So, I decided to stay for two more weeks. I clearly must not be homesick (I'm not), but there are some things I kind of miss from the U.S. Quite honestly, the only thing that I truly miss is the food (no offense, mom and dad)--tex mex, barbecue, and pizza. Maybe having my own laptop and own music playing system--I have an ipod, but I haven't used it for at least 4 years, and I've been travelling without one--and doing the nytimes sunday crossword puzzle and wsj weekly crossword puzzle, but those things can be easily accessed via archives.

Otherwise, I really don't miss all that much. It would have been nice to be at the airport to welcome home my brother, since I haven't seen the kid in five months, but if I'm pretty confident that if he were in my position, he would have done the same thing. I know for a fact that he certainly wasn't shedding any tears over missing me while he was gallivanting all over europe (rightfully so, btw).

Just for the heck of it, walked down the road in one of singapore's red light districts last night, and it really wasn't all that impressive compared to Cambodia--although they actually do use pale red fluorescent lights in some dark alleys to let customers know they are open for business. You see some girls lined up in stairways, and hear some husky voices of those that probably weren't born as biological girls, but that's as extreme as it gets.

Understandably, certain places, like along raffles place and in downtown, have a new york feel to them--lots of people wearing button down shirts with black slacks and punching stuff on there blackberry while standing outside and having a cigarette.

What is bizarre is knowing and having read about the mess that Bangkok has become, you'd think that other places in SE Asia might go down that path or at least start to get people in other countries all riled up, but nothing could be further from the truth. It's business as usual everywhere else, including other parts of thailand not named Bangkok--meaning that everywhere not named bangkok is no different than how it was before the protests started.

random collection of stories

here's just a random collection of stories that I for whatever reason forgot to mention or include in my previous postings (excluding stuff from Banjarmasin).

When I was in Angkor Wat, I met two ladies from Fayetteville, Arkansas who work for.......not U. Ark., not Pilgrim's Pride, but that other giant--Wal Mart. When they asked me what I did, and I told them that I would be going to law school in the fall, they said, yeah, you looked like a lawyer. I have no idea whatever that means, but its good to know that if I ever decide to go into acting, I could easily find a role.

Another angkor wat story--I met two mid-30s flight attendants (one still working, one retired) from MAS, Malaysian Airlines, a couple--the still working one is a male, the retired one is a female--who were incredibly nice, and we ended up running into each other at the same temples. Met them for a drink later, and they confirmed what I previously heard from several different sources regarding Malaysia. The wife now works as an english teacher--she is fluent--and the place she works for is now in association with the U.S. Embassy in an effort to promote learning english in Malaysia. The funny part of the story is that since Obama has been in power, the embassy told these english teachers that they need to teach these people about global warming and climate change. It would be one thing if the people that were being taught were fluent in english, but the vast majority don't even have basic competency. Meaning that before they learn the basic phrases that would help get them around (like where is the grocery store, etc.) they will learn about the polar ice caps melting.

Singapore may have a ban on pornography, but they evidently don't impose a firewall. At one of the computer terminals I was using in little india, the home page was a porn site, and a whole bunch of pop ups took over the screen. I quickly changed computers.

I remember reading an article several years ago about the coming growth in chinese tourism. Well, they were everywhere in cambodia, and easily outnumbered the japanese by 10:1. Just to be a pest, I asked one of the tour guides what tourists they hate the most, and they said the Chinese--an opinion shared by many people, including other travellers, mainly because they tend to be rather loud, rude, and sometimes disrespectful by western standards. As much as people make fun of the insensitive and rude western tourist, the chinese tend to be far worse.

The Japanese, on the other hand, are extremely nice. They might be easily charicatured for clustering in groups, wearing bucket hats, and having giant cameras around their neck, but they are nothing but polite and friendly, if a little reserved (in the interest of fairness, western backpacking tourists are easily charicatured as well--long hair, bushy beards, wearing beer tshirts from the country they are in, etc). I ran into a group of Japanese tourists in Beng Mealea, and it was definitely a bizarre moment on my end when after telling them that I was from the US, that they were from Hiroshima--I'm pretty sure my face turned as red as the rising sun on the japanese flag out of a sense of awkwardness on my part. There wasn't any on their end, though, and some even wanted their picture taken with me.

A sign that I drank too much one night? When I ask for a cigarette. I never ever smoke, but I was hanging out with the german nurse at my favorite bar, and kept buying the next round for each other--being the southern gentleman that my mother raised me to be, I would never let her pay for the last round. Well, you know you've managed an accomplishment when a german, female or male, proclaims that they are "pissed" as in drunk, before you admit to the same. Of course, she is trying to quit smoking, but tends to smoke when she drinks, so that's where the cigarettes came from. I had one--that's it--and one was enough to remind me why I never smoke to begin with.

Course correction, version umpteenth

I don't usually do this, but I will quote from a personal email sent to me by my mother, in reference to my last post:

"Your joking right, you'd rather come home and watch Lost

than stay and go somewhere where it might be a long time

before you get a chance to go again? I thought I raised you

better, boy did I screw up!!!!!"

Mom, you didn't screw up. If you are planning on throwing a surprise welcome back party for me on May 21, better call it off, because I won't be on the plane. Instead, I will be coming home June 8 at 6 a.m. (I was trying to avoid the notorious west coast-midwest redeye, haven taken it once before, but all the seats on the Hong Kong-California legs that would put me into Dallas in the evening were booked). I will be leaving Singapore at 1620 on the 7th, arrive in Hong Kong around 2000, and leave Hong Kong at 0030 on the 8th, arriving in San Francisco at 2200 on the 7th, leaving San Francisco at around 0100 on the 8th, arriving in DFW at 600 on the 8th (gotta love dateline hopping!). I was also able to secure the seats I wanted on the Cathay Pacific operated legs--a window from Singapore to Hong Kong, an aisle from Hong Kong to SFO (there's really no point in getting a window, since it will be dark the entire flight).

My next stop after the Cathay Pacific ticket office (located right next to Clifford Centre, btw)? The bank to make sure my atm card will work for the next two weeks.

Getting to Laos will be a little problematic and pricier than usual because of the mess in Bangkok. Seeing as how the last time there was a political protest in 2006, they managed to shut down the airport, if you can avoid flying through Bangkok, then by all means do it. Fortunately, I can by going through KL (sign you've been travelling for too long in SE Asia/become a backpacker a-hole? You always refer to Kuala Lumpur as KL).

My general plan will be to fly from Kuala Lumpur to Vientiane, the Laotian capital (Laos happens to be one of four countries that I have physically seen (not from an airplane window), but not actually visited--when I was in Thailand six years ago, we went to a town on the opposite side of the mekong from Laos--the other three? Lebanon, Syria, and Jordan).

After spending a day or so in Vientiane, I will head to the backpacking haven of Vang Vieng--known for its tubing and party scene. The stop, at minimum, is functional--Vang Vieng is on the road between Vientiane and Luang Prabang, and will break up one very long (10 hours) bus ride into two medium length rides. The 25 year old german nurse who I met on the boat ride from Battambang to Siem Reap was telling me about the place, and she said that even if you weren't into the party scene or tubing (she wasn't), its still worth the stop because it is incredibly beautiful. Vang Vieng also has another side to it that can be looked up, but one that I won't write on until after I've left Laos--let's just say that I intend on being extra extra careful there.

From Vang Vieng it will be onto Luang Prabang--the old Laotian capital, and a UNESCO world heritage site, where I will probably be spending the most amount of time in Laos.

After Luang Prabang, time permitting, I will go to Phonsavan to see the Plain of Jars--Phonsavan was also one of the major bombing targets during the U.S. Secret War in Laos (Air America and all that) and is notorious for the large amount of unexploded ordinance found near the town (the town is fully safe now, but I'm not going to go off the beaten path). From Phonsavan, it will be a flight back to Vientiane and either to Phuket in Thailand or Singapore, depending on how much time I have.

So, what did I do today other than arrange stuff? I went to fort soliso on sentosa island--the site of the last british holdout during the invasion by Japan. It happens to be located on Singapore's principle beach and pleasure resort island--it felt like going to disneyworld or six flags, to be quite honest, only it was extremely, extremely clean. If you are looking for a picturesque beach view, then don't go to Sentosa--you'll see some pretty blue water, and some surrounding islands, but you will mainly get a view of the giant container ships, oil tankers, and cargo ships moored nearby, as well as the various port facilities and an oil refinery or two--tropical idyll it is not.

I then wandered through Singapore's Chinatown, where stuff is actually cheap. I actually went there last night to eat (tip: if you need something cheap and good to eat in singapore, go to chinatown--i did little india--where I'm staying--the night before, and thought it was overrated--so did my stomach), and discovered a new poison of choice. Since getting into singapore, I haven't had a single beer because the stuff is so expensive--instead, last night I found another cold thirst quencher that is probably as close as mortal man will get to ambrosia: freshly squeezed sugar cane juice. It's delicious. I am far from an adventurous eater, but I can attest that the stuff is amazing. Yes, it is nearly neon green, but there's nothing artificial about it.

Another thing that is cheap in Singapore? electronics. Because my memory stick is now full, I wanted to see about getting another memory card for my camera. I got a 2 gig memory card for 18 singapore dollars--cheaper than my hostel bed.

As much as it is fun to make fun of Singapore for its emphasis on cleanliness--there are some hilarious signs that are posted to emphasize courtesy, like one where a man emerges from a smoking room all aghast, and a woman exclaims that it looks like he's just seen a ghost--his response? No, I just saw what was left in the toilet--there is apparently a seedier side, one that isn't really brought up. Prostitution is legal here, and the town does have its own redlight district.
So, chewing gum is banned (other than nicorette) but paying for sex isn't? Go figure.

Lost can wait. I'm willing to guarantee that they will have full copies of the final season on dvd here before the last episode is actually shown, so I will probably borrow (I would never pay for pirated dvds! Never! Well, never except for when I bought several when I was in Thailand, but thats small potatoes compared to some of my friends) someone's copy to see if I can watch the sixth to last episode.

Should I stay or should I go?

I've already received emails from Cathay Pacific telling me that I can now check in online for my flight back to the States if I want to. I'm holding off.

The problem--I'm about 95% sure that I don't want to go back to the States. I know where I want to go instead, and know what flight I want to take, and know roughly where I would go, and how long I would roughly take.

I considered going to one or two of the five countries in SE Asia that I had missed--Burma, Thailand, the Philippines, Vietnam, and Laos. Of the five, one clear choice emerged: Laos.
Everybody in Cambodia simply raved about Laos, and those that had been to multiple countries already routinely said it was their favorite place to visit. It is a slower pace of life, and people couldn't stop talking about how much they enjoyed it. Furthermore, because of its relative remoteness, going to Laos basically requires that you are in SE Asia beforehand (and even then, it is much easier going from Cambodia, Vietnam, or Thailand to Laos than it is from Singapore--visa issues mean that I can't go through Cambodia or Vietnam--requires one in advance--and the political situation in bangkok is front page news all over the world--last time they had a protest, they managed to shut down the international airport back in 2006. I'm not going to take my chances). Of course, as I sit here typing this, the travel channel is broadcasting a program on Laos.

Now, it would have made a heck of a lot more sense for me to go from Cambodia to Laos than from Cambodia to Singapore to Laos, but because of my U.S. ticket, I had to get to Singapore to see what my options were. This means that my only realistic option is going through Kuala Lumpur, where Air Asia flies to the Laotian capital of Vientiane on Saturday, Thursday, and Tuesday.

The problem?

Air Asia just launched a massive fare sale that includes free seats for travel booked by the end of may and commenced in 2011. Their website is overloaded. I cannot even see what the price for me to travel to Vientiane would be, let alone if there's any availability (fortunately, they have an office in Singapore that I will go to tmw.)

I'd also like to go to a beach in SE Asia before I leave, so I might also try to squeeze in a trip to Phuket (south of thailand, but far, far, away from Bangkok) as well.

I'm also slightly fatigued, and need maybe a one day break of sorts before heading onward.

If I do change my ticket, I will also be missing the series finale of Lost. I have watched the show since the very first episode debuted and I was a freshman in college. The show, though, has gone steadily downhill since the first season (with the exception of the season three finale) as the creators have increased the sci-fi emphasis and decreased the emphasis on the drama within the individual characters. I just want to see how it ends and don't want it to be spoiled.

They should have learned from the Battlestar Galactica remake--a show on Sci-Fi that was very highly regarded since it took modern and dramatic themes and put them in a unique setting, and didn't really rely on the sci-fi elements as necessities to the storyline.

Whatever. If I can miss Modano and Lehtinen's likely final home game (it was the same night as my flight out, and I felt physically sick to my stomach when I realized that I would be missing it. Yes, I have become so addicted/emotionally attached to the Stars that I now get physically sick), I can miss the finale of a tv show that I can easily catch up on online.

Will post updates later about what will happen.

Cloudy day

Sun hasn't come out all day in Singapore--both literally and figuratively.

It turns out that I managed to lose an entire day of photos from my time in Angkor Wat. For whatever reason (I swear I saved them onto my memory stick), photos from the day in which I visited Angkor Wat, Angkor Thom, and Ta Prohm during the daytime are missing, and are not on either one of my memory cards. Photos I took both the day before and the day after are on there, just not those, which means I am missing some spectacular shots of Bayon, Baphuon, Angkor Wat, the Terrace of the Elephants, and the terrace of the leper king.

Oh, and I have officially run out of space on my current memory stick, which means I will have to buy a new one.

I'm in the midst of another marathon photo upload session, since I want to have everything backed up.

Hopefully, I'll be fully updated by tonight

Wish I could describe some really exciting things about Singapore, but while the colonial district and the civil district are fun places to walk around, my problem is that I'm a little burned out on the colonial stuff, and the sky was cloudy. The place just doesn't have the same level of sketchiness that can lend itself to funny stories (saying I decided to tempt fate and that of arrest by jaywalking just isn't all that laughable after i've been offered all sorts of illegal stuff in Cambodia).

If it wasn't for the humidity, you could easily forget you were in southeast asia. Minimal number of touts, everything's expensive, and drivers don't try to kill you.

Singapore isn't just an airport?!?!?

For the first time in five visits to Singapore, and entering the country on three occasions, I finally actually stepped beyond the airport terminal boundaries and went into the city.

Singapore will be home for the next three nights. I am supposed to fly home on the 21st, but I am strongly considering otherwise--I talked to my airline today, and if I were to change dates, I'd only have to pay a flat change fee and no fare difference. Yes, the flat change fee is more than the cost of some of the airline tickets I've bought on this trip, but it is only about 10% of the cost of my transpacific ticket, so I'm thinking about squeezing in a couple more places that I might not get to see otherwise--and at the top of the list is Laos, which everyone who I met in Siem Reap was raving about. My limiting factor here is my supply of anti-malaria medication, which I have to take for a week when I get back in the states, which means the most I could extend my trip would be by 3.5 weeks (I physically counted the pills last night).

My main impression of singapore--after really having not done all that much--going to the airline ticket office, the airport, my hostel, and doing a marathon photo upload session on facebook to backup my backup system (i still haven't finished)--is holy sticker shock! I'm definitely not in Cambodia anymore--i'm paying more for a bed in a dorm room here than I did for an aircon room with a shower in a safe, non-sketchy, family run guesthouse in Siem Reap. Bar placards consider it a "deal" to get 5 beers for 35 singapore dollars (about 28 usd).

I really liked Siem Reap--it has a good nightlife scene, and easily my favorite bar of the trip. Shockingly, considering how much I've written about the topic, the bar isn't a brothel or a girly bar. In fact, I asked the bartender last night why there weren't any working girls there (they are in some other bars) and she said that they had banned them. Meaning that the only solicitation you will get at that place is from the bartender or waiter asking you if you want another drink.
Perfectly understandable considering that one of the bar's unofficial mottos is "this place isn't a traveler's information center, so shut up and drink." It was actually a lonely planet recommendation that proved to be dead on.

three random notes from my 3 hour flight from Siem Reap to Phnom Penh to Singapore (i didn't change planes, it was a triangle route).
The airports may be cambodian, but the airport prices are certainly western--think $2.50 for your standard bottle of water from a shop. Since you can't drink cambodian tap water, you are pretty much forced to pay it. Just outside, you'd pay 50 cents for that same bottle.

Cambodian airports don't trust each other. After having gone through the necessary security procedures in Siem Reap, all of us that were making the en route stop in Phnom Penh were forced to get off the plane and go through security yet again, even though Jetstar doesn't carry any purely domestic passengers. The comparison in the U.S. would be if you were on a Chicago-Dallas-Houston flight, and you were forced to go through security again at Dallas even though you did the same thing at Chicago.

I think a celebrity named "pitbull" was sitting behind me, but I honestly have no idea who the guy is. I've just seen his face plastered on all sorts of billboards, so the face looked familiar, and the flight attendants, after arriving in singapore, posed for a picture with him--he was also accompanied by four very big and large security personnel.

A Yehudiah in a Muslim School, part 1

This is my long awaited post on my visit to Banjarmasin--the title of the post is ripped off from a course that I shopped several times, but never actually took called "Jews in Muslim Lands." In Bahasa Indonesia, Yehudiah (sp?) means Jew or Jewish.

TV Journalists often talk about going inside a hidden world, or unprecedented access into an unknown society or culture. Most of those programs promoting the revelation of juicy details, however, are fluff--given the nature of the profession, journalists generally have to identify themselves or it is clear that they are journalists, which means that only people who want to talk to them will. This usually results in speaking with some reformed members of whatever society or world that have an axe to grind or a score to settle and speaking with the lawyers or the pr people from that group. You never actually really get to understand what the average person thinks or feels.

Well, I got my own version of insider access into a world rarely visited by most westerners or tourists. My friend taught for a year at a small, all-girls muslim school in a place about 20-30 minutes from the Banjarmasin airport, only accessible via dirt roads in a small suburban community--think a suburb/rural village blend, and you will kind of get the gist of where this place was located. When I asked her for some tips about travelling in Indonesia, I told her my plan, and she said that if I was interested in visiting her school and the all boys school a five minute motorbike away, she would set it up for me.

Because of my limited time, I had to make a decision--it was either going to be Bali or Banjarmasin. For most people, this would be a no-brainer--Bali, of course. I thought about it, and the more I did, the more I realized that by the time I was going to get there (week four), I was probably going to be a little worn out and in need of a break from the tourist track. Besides, at worst it would be an interesting and unique experience, and so I figured, why the hell not? I wrote my friend back and told her that I was indeed interested. Bali was out, going back to Borneo (banjarmasin is in Indonesian Borneo--Kalimantan) was in.

I was in a unique position when I visited--I was technically an outsider, but since I knew one of their coworkers and good friends, I was also an insider. I wasn't a part of their community, but I was trusted like I was a lifelong member. Certain people in that community opened up more to me than they did to their neighbors, a level of openness that I haven't even achieved with some of my close friends. Some told me secrets or asked me questions that they were too afraid to tell their neighbors or friends because of different social stigmas. It is out of respect for the privacy of these people that I am unable to reveal all that was said for fear that it might have a negative consequence for them.

When I arrived in Banjarmasin after my infamous flight from hell on Lionair, I really didn't have any idea of what to expect. My friend told me some things--ie, its a conservative community, bring lots of gifts, dos/don'ts--but not everything. I emailed my host (and airport pickup) my flight information, but I didn't know what the guy looked like, where I would be staying, what I would be doing etc. To let him know what he was looking for at the airport, I sent him a note saying that I was a yellow haired bule with a backpack and with skin reddened by the harsh Indonesian sun.

Still physically shaking from the flight, I picked up my bag and headed out to the arrivals area--after looking around aimlessly cluelessly for a minute, a skinny kid about my height and age, asks me if I was mr. charlie. The skinny kid was Mi'raj, one of my friend's friends--a 23 year old teacher at the school, where he graduated from--and he was going to be my host. Though he continually apologized for his "poor" english, the reality was that he could have gotten along just fine in the U.S. or any english speaking country. Its obvious that he wasn't a native speaker, and had some trouble with slang, but he was functionally fluent.

Sometimes you meet people and you just "click" for whatever reason--and you feel like you have known them for longer than you really have. This was the case with Mi'raj and I--we got our respective senses of humor, and didn't have any problems other than the occasional misunderstanding of slang that I used.

I hopped onto his motorbike, with my bag strapped to my back, and off we went into the Bornean night. I generally have a good sense of direction, but I honestly had no idea how the town was laid out, where everything was relative to each other, etc. We stop for dinner at a roadside shack, much to the relief of my shoulders, and soon we are off on the dirt roads to get to the school. After about 15-20 minutes or so of bouncing around on the motorbike, we finally arrive at the school--separating the two story standard issue student housing/some class rooms from the single story houses where the teachers live were a basketball courts, a fussball court, and a dirt courtyard. Raj shows me to my room, in his house, and I am shocked. I was expecting bare bones, but the place was nicer than some of the hostels and hotels I have stayed at--big bed, desk, chair, tv, and closet, and an ice cold air conditioner. Talk about a pleasant surprise.

His house consisted of two bedrooms--mine and his--a breakfast room, a sitting room, a kitchen, a toilet room, and a mandi room (basically, bucket shower), in a space probably just smaller than the den and the living room of my house.

All things considered, it was a pretty sweet setup.

Part 2 to come.

Battambang/Phnom Penh/Siem Reap

No witty titles this time around, unfortunately.

I'm back in Siem Reap after having done a circle around Cambodia--there are more flight options from Siem Reap than Phnom Penh, and its a better town to relax in for a day. Tmw, I will be flying Siem Reap-Phnom Penh-Singapore, but I don't connect in Phnom Penh. The airline I'm flying, Jetstar, flies a triangle route, routing the aircraft Singapore-Siem Reap-Phnom Penh-Singapore. I leave around 745 am local time, and arrive around 1205 local time--singapore is an hour later than cambodia.

Singapore will be my last stop, as on the 21st I fly Singapore-Hong Kong-Los Angeles-DFW.

I was going to go help out at an orphanage today, but since the place is 1.5 hours away, I sent off an email just to make sure it was okay to stop by two days ago, but unfortunately the email inbox was full. I also assumed that I would be able to make airline reservations yesterday, but for whatever reason, I was unable to (rant start: thank you, mastercard. I spend 20 minutes on the phone with one of your representatives in the Singapore airport trying to iron the situation out, the person telling me it is okay, that my credit card should work, but it still doesn't. It was working fine for the first month, but now you tell me that it didn't work because I was out of my area? How does that make sense? If that was the case, then why wasn't it flagged back in Malaysia when I started the trip? rant end), and had to do it this morning. By the time I was finished, it was too late to head out there--which is too bad.

In spite of Cambodia's myriad problems, it does have a ton of honest NGOs working here. If you ever want to take a volunteer-vacation, come to Cambodia, and contact these places directly--don't pay some middleman to set it up for you--lots of these legit places have websites and can be easily contacted.

Lonely Planet describes Battambang as a small, lazy riverside town with well preserved french architecture along the river. I describe it as one boring place with crumbling french buildings and the only nightlife to be found is one of the various girly bars. I tried going to the place that the book recommended--a bar seemingly popular with expats, but it was a sketchy looking shack, and so I had my driver take me back to the hotel, after declining several "massage" offers, as well as an offer to take me to a place frequented by former Khmer Rouge members. Drinking with dictators--I'll skip that.

In my brief time in Battambang, however, I did go out to some limestone hills for a nice panoramic sunset view, and saw bats emerge from their hiding place at dusk and take to the skies like a giant cloud of locusts. Thank god I had already made reservations for the boat to Siem Reap.

Sick of buses, I decided to take a boat ride, which, in the dry season, isn't probably the best idea--the water is very shallow, and the boat is forced to go slow--the trip took 8 hours start to finish in a small boat no bigger or wider than three suburbans lined up trunk to bumper. Yes, there was a bathroom on board, but you probably didn't want to use it. It was roofed, however, which meant that we weren't blasted by the sun.

It was actually quite fun--the 15 people were mostly tourists, and I spent most of the time talking to a fellow American (and a native Israeli 2001 JJ Pearce grad who now lives in Anchorage) and a german nurse. It was also pretty scenic--you got to see the various riverside communities and houses built on stilts, and fishermen at work. Granted, it did get a little tiresome after the first three hours when every little village starts to look the same, but you could still see some random sites of interest--like a riverside christian church, or a bamboo shack with a satellite tv dish on top of it. I also got to cross SE Asia's largest lake, the Tonle Sap, home to thousands of birds, and some of the world's largest freshwater fish, like the Mekong giant catfish and the Mekong giant stingray (look 'em up on wikipedia). The river into Siem Reap was extremely shallow in the narrow navigable parts--no more than knee or ankle deep in some parts, which made for an interesting final hour as you have to wait for some larger tourist boats to pass you in one direction--in some cases, boats heading opposite ways were no more than six inches apart.

Now, back to Phnom Penh.
I did the typical tourist route--I went to the royal palace--neat and fancy, but an interesting contrast to the khmers living just outside the palace gate in extreme poverty. I also got there on the king's birthday, which meant that the place was all lit up, and there were lots of concerts at night, and people celebrating.

I explored some of the wide, DC national mall style boulevards surrounding the palace and the river, where there were several memorials and monuments, as well as a giant casino (the only legal one in Cambodia) known as "nagaworld"--naga is a mythological creature from buddhism--think supersized, magical snake--and sculptures and depictions of them are all over the angkor temples. Phnom Penh is located where the tonle sap river and the Mekong intersect, so I was also to take lots of pictures of one of the world's most famous rivers. The place also has a nice riverside walk, lined with cafes, shops, and restaurants--a generally safe area for tourists, though I was continually offered marijuana, cocaine, and girls from the various tuk tuk drivers.

Stopped by the Foreign Correspondents Club of Cambodia for a mid afternoon snack--the place is pretty famous--its been on the Amazing race, and is considered a must go. I wasn't all that impressed--American style if not more expensive prices, and the place was also crawling with ants. As far as I am concerned, if you want to have a drink and watch the river, there are plenty of other better options in Phnom Penh to go--most only just steps away from the FCCC.

The National Museum is a nice, red building, but the building itself is more impressive than its collection--at least the museum is nice and tidy, and presents the collection well, unlike another famous museum with a red facade (Egyptian museum in Cairo) where you are literally tripping over artifacts, while also trying your best not to touch anything because the place seems to haven't employed a janitor since the Nasser era--king tut area is immaculate, though.

For whatever reason, walked up to Wat Phnom, the highest point in the city, which really did have the greatest views, but did tire me out in the heat--again, that's a place worth skipping if you don't have much time. Also went to the "lake" to watch the sunset--again, an overrated experience, since it isn't much of a lake, and the area around it is pretty dirty and grungy.

If you don't like history or learning about tragedy stop reading now, because aside from the sex trade, Cambodia has another darker side to it--the era of the Pol Pot led Khmer Rouge and the civil war that resulted in the deaths of millions of Cambodians--some of which were killed in the crossfire, some of which were murdered or exterminated (after first having been tortured) by the ruthless Khmer Rouge.

I was told by people who had been to Phnom Penh that the two places that you simply cannot miss are the killing fields and the Tuol Sleng Museum. Having been to both, I can now vouch for that, and entirely agree. If you have any ounce of compassion or sympathy in your body, you will be horrified by what took place and be in a state of shock.

The killing fields are located about 14 kms outside of Phnom Penh, past the airport, and located at a former orchard that is now being transformed into a suburb. Being sent there was a death sentence--there was no escape--and you were either promptly shot, or, to save bullets, bludgeoned to death by the butt of a rifle. The place is hauntingly pretty in the fading afternoon light, surrounded on two sides by ricefields--there is a white temple that serves as the ossuary that preserves the bones of some of those found there. As you wander around, you start to notice some various depressions in the ground that looked as if they were craters from shell explosions. They aren't. They were the mass grave sites were the victims were tossed after they were killed. They have also preserved a small bit of land where bone fragments are still present in the ground.

There was only one thing that detracted from my experience. As I wandered around on the trail next to the fence, several children appeared on the other side and started begging and pestering me. I had a can of pringles visible, and they wanted my "yum-yums." This continued for a good 15-20 minutes. I'm sorry, and I realize and am well aware that Cambodia is desperately poor, but this place is a sacred site--a place of mass murder (over 20,000 killed at this one place)--and deserves to be treated as such. That means visitors wishing to learn or pay their respects shouldn't have to be solicited by beggars. I know this is a selfish thing to say, and it wasn't wise for me to have the can of pringles visible, but if you would be offended by being pestered at a concentration camp or a gulag site while inside the property fence, then you would be offended by being asked for food at this site. Again, this is just my opinion--you can disagree with me if you want, calling me insensitive, selfish and a whole other list of descriptions, but it is what I thought at the time and still think.

Rode back to Phnom Penh in the fading afternoon light, and had some spectacular views of the setting sun in the ricefields and various stilted villages.

Next morning, I went to the tuol sleng museum (s21)--a former high school that was transformed by the Khmer Rouge into a prison and a torture chamber in the heart of Phnom Penh. After they passed through s21, prisoners were taken to the killing fields. Only seven people, out of the thousands that passed through, survived. It wasn't just males they were after--they killed anybody they suspected of being an enemy of the state, or not agreeing with the decrees of Pol Pot--whether you were a man, woman, or child. They even sometimes turned inward, killing their own who they thought were disloyal or traitors. The only people who were ever truly safe were the people at the very top I thought the place was more haunting than the killing fields because there was more information available, and rows upon rows of photographs that the khmer rouge took of their prisoners when they entered the place, some of these people no more than 2 years old.

They've preserved the old beds and instruments used to torture, and as a whole, they did a great job of presenting the site. Its hard to describe a place of so much notoriety as a highlight, but it really cannot be missed.

The torture isn't the only thing that will disgust you when you visit the site. Some of the information you learn will as well. I mentioned earlier that the U.N. should hire cambodian kids as translators--that's because they owe Cambodia, big time. The Khmer Rouge lost full control in 1979 (after ruling for four years) when a Vietnam backed group took back the country and forced the KR into fighting a guerilla war. The U.N. didn't see it that way, and fully earned their New York Post moniker of "the thugs club" by continuing to recognize the Khmer Rouge and having them occupy Cambodia's seat at the U.N. until 1991. Please remove the plastic bag from the seatback in front of you, and commence vomiting. Yes, Pol Pot was actually recognized as the rightful ruler of the country, even though he had just been responsible both directly and indirectly for the death of millions of his countrymen.

Unfortunately, the U.S. isn't exactly innocent either. Because of the nature of cold war geopolitics, where the enemy of my enemy was always my friend, even if that friend was a dictator, mass murderer, or both, the U.S. actually supported the Khmer Rouge for a short while since the bitter aftertaste of the Vietnam War still lingered.

The other interesting exhibit at the museum, other than that of the victims, is of the conflicted issues surrounding the conflict that are still present in Cambodia to this day. While those at the top were certainly guilty, there were lots of Khmer Rouge members who were forced to join the group at the barrel of a gun--meaning they and their families would have been killed if they didn't join and participate in some of the atrocities. Its a complicated moral and ethical issue, to say the least, something that the country is still trying to deal with.

Only now, 30 years after the reign of the Khmer Rouge, are those responsible for the group's various crimes against humanity actually being tried by courts and tribunals. Side note--at the royal palace, I actually met a pretty, newly minted law graduate from Australia who is actually working for the prosecution on one of these trials--she was at the palace because her parents were visiting her for the weekend.

Some, unfortunately, will never be formally tried or judged because they have already died. Pol Pot, the mastermind of the whole operation, died in 1998, never having been held accountable for the deaths of his countrymen.

I don't have a phd in comparative genocidal studies, nor in german or cambodian history, and only know what I've picked up from reading various books and informational displays, so I am in no position to make any sort of comparison between the Khmer Rouge and the Nazi Party or the Soviet Union under Stalin. I will leave that to those qualified to undertake such a task.

I have, however, visited the Buchenwald concentration camp, and so I am in a position to contrast what I felt and thought at Buchenwald versus Tuol Sleng/Killing Fields. Again, these were purely my emotions, nothing more, nothing else. The feeling at both sites were identical--and, if anything, I actually felt slightly worse leaving Tuol Sleng than Buchenwald. Yes, I'm proud to be Jewish, but I'm also proud to be an American. In World War II, Jews were being exterminated, but at least my country was one of the good guys. In Cambodia, the U.S. wasn't one of the good guys. Even if we didn't obviously support the Khmer Rouge, we certainly looked the other way and refused to denounce them. And that is why I felt slightly worse--because in this case, the U.S. wasn't the knight in shining armor, and so, as an American, I felt a tinge of guilt and shame for what my country did and didn't do.