A New Friend, the Mekong Delta to HCMC

I took a very unconventional route from Cambodia to Vietnam. I had to hire a private taxi - $22 :( - and I have no idea which of the two border crossings he dropped me at. Nonetheless, I was the only westerner around and I got some strange looks. One of the first things I noticed in Vietnam is the color. There are great pastels and bright blues, greens and purples on the houses. Cambodia and Laos, by contrast are primarily brown; thatched huts in rural areas and a sprinkling of earth tones in cities. Chau Doc, my first stop, is bustling. Zillions of people zipping about at a frenetic pace, noise, pollution, organized chaos. After a couple of hours I need a retreat and hop the next bus to Ha Tien, a town described in my guidebook as quaint. This bus does not ply a tourist route and as such it never gets full. When there can't possibly be more room, there is always more room. Literally, I had people sitting on top of me. This is funny for about 5 minutes. I don't think quaint is the right word, but Ha Tien does have an end of the road feeling to it. While I only saw two other Western travellers, there are many Vietnamese on the road here. In Cambodia and Laos locals travelling is rare, a luxury for the upper classes only. In Vietnam, mobility is one sign that this is a more developed country. Another is the wide range of businesses. In fact, it's not long before I meet Tuyet, a Ho Chi Minh native who helps her parents with their import / export business. She happens to be on the same Mekong Delta loop as me and after dinner with her sisters (snail picnic on the riverfront) we make plans to met up the following night in Can Tho. Tuyet speaks better-than-average English and it's great to have a conversation that goes beyond, "Where are you from?" She is 27, though she looks 20, and she is smart and worldly and we share many of the same philosophies and values. I have no doubt we would be close friends if she lived in the U.S. She smiles easily and says, "My friend Lan has a good sense of humor. I have a good sense of direction." Sounds to me like the perfect tour guides for Ho Chi Minh City. First though, I head off on the Mekong on a small, wooden 4-seater in search of the floating markets, just me and the driver. Truthfully, I was hoping for a photogenic little old lady in a conical hat since they usually drive the boats, but instead I got a non-descript 20-year-old. Oh well, this was still the way to go. Most tourists head off on these big boats and skirt the markets peering in. My little man bee-lined for the middle of the market, bumping and crashing our way to a rice and pork breakfast. Dozens of boats bump along, most sell vegetables, some hot coffee, with the occasional floating drug store thrown in. It's fascinating how the Vietnamese hustle-and-bustle takes to the water so easily. The Mekong Delta is a complete maze of waterways with hundreds of canals and of course this is where the mighty Mekong empties into the South China Sea.

My journey to Ho Chi Minh City (HCMC) is uneventful by Vietnamese standards and I arrive to find a bustling modern city, albeit one with a zillion motorbikes. I had been warned about the traffic here, but I found it better than Phnom Penh. Here, people follow common sense traffic rules, for the most part, the difference being that there are 100 times more people. HCMC has a very cosmopolitan feel to it and asides from the motorbikes and street-food vendors it could be a city in the US, "same same, but different," as the SE Asians say. (FYI - HCMC refers to a very large geographic areas and Saigon is used to describe only a few districts in the city center.) In the morning I struck out alone to visit the War Remnants Museum, previously the American War Crimes Museum. I can't explain at all how devastating and upset I felt. It's one thing to visit Cambodia's Genocide Museum, the whole time knowing it was "others" who committed the atrocities. It's a whole other emotional experience to witness the atrocities that my government committed. Napalm. Agent Orange. Decapitations. Environmental devastation.

Later I meet up with Tuyet and her two friends, Lan and Hieu for dinner. I ask why, given what my country has done to hers not a single person has shown animosity towards me, knowing that I'm American. "My people, she says, do not look to the past. We look to the future." Wow, that is an amazingly mature attitude. The conversation moves to lighter topics as we question Hieu's motives of keeping several girlfriends while claiming to be in love with one. "I am very confident in the looks," he says and I realize that men are the same everywhere. Throughout the evening the four of us are on two motorbikes, Lan and Tuyet constantly chastising Hiue for his poor tour guide skills. But I'm amazed how nimble they are on the motorbikes.

The next day I hop a motorbike 40 minutes to the suburbs to Tuyet's home and she takes me to the nearby Cu Chi tunnels, the Viet Cong's 250km underground lair. The tunnels are impressive, narrow and potentially claustrophobic. On the way back we stop at her brother's for lunch. A delicious caramel taste lingers in my mouth and I ask, "Tuyet, this is really good. Is it chicken?" "No, frog legs." "Oh." Dining with Tuyet, her friends and family has been a culinary adventure for my pedestrian taste buds. I've now had cow's liver and other unidentifiable parts that don't resemble a prime rib cut, some crazy vegetables I have never seen, and even a duck embryo eaten straight out of the egg!!!! Remarkably, everything has tasted really good, though I think I'll skip the embryos next time. Anyway, I'm munching away on a frog leg when I swear I hear a marching band. I must be imagining it, I decide, because we moved past the suburbs and we're in the countryside. Sure enough within minutes a marching band comes into view leading a funeral procession. This was the most colorful funeral procession I have ever seen; the hearse was ornate with every color in the rainbow. Tuyet says this is only for the rich. At night we pick up Lan and zoom into town for dinner and a visit to the park. The park, it turns out, is the only acceptable place for men and women to "cavort" publicly, and we can barely find a seat amidst the cuddling. It gets late and I hate to say goodbye, and though it's difficult for Vietnamese to get visas for the States, I hope someday they can visit me.

For photos of the Mekong Delta and HCMC, click here:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/39463330@N00/sets/72057594112030156/

Teaching English, Playing "Football", Kep, Cambodia

Kep, Cambodia today is a sleepy fishing village in the south of the country. At one time, it had been a mini Hamptons to the Phnom Penh Jet-setters, pre-Khmer Rouge. Now dozens of architecturally progressive villas, destroyed by the Khmer Rouge, blanket the waterfront. While several of them have squatters living inside, many can be explored almost like the temples of Siem Reap. It's quite eerie really. The fishing boats here stroll in every morning with the day's catch and the seafood is amazing. I've enjoyed, according to the menu, grilled the squid, fish the soup, and boiled the crab. My favorite dish though features stir-fried squid in a peppercorn sauce. (I visited the plantation where they grow the peppercorn on vines and dry it, pretty neat.) One thing about this town I reeeally don't like though is the rabid monkeys. I stopped to take their photo while they were climbing around on the trees all cute-looking. Apparently, these were the females because soon the males were chasing me, showing their teeth, and letting out this high-pitched scream. Do monkeys bite? I flew out of there, not waiting around to find out!

I decided, as usual, to take a bike and ride into the countryside. It's so great to be away from the touts and all the kids love to shout "Hallo" as I pass and then run away giggling. After a while I decide to stop to watch some kids play "football." As soon as I show up, however, all the football playing come to an immediate halt. All the kids come running over and the teacher, it turns out to be a schoolyard, says, "the kids want you to play with them." No problem. What had been ten kids playing football, now became 35. They are all about 10-12 and run around laughing and giggling, especially when I give them a high 5 when our team scores. Soon the teacher, Manah, asks if I'll teach English. A "Yes, of course" leaped out of my mouth before I realized I didn't have the foggiest clue how to do this. After having 5 seconds to come up with a lesson plan, I look out at the 35 kids, waiting in anticipation like their favorite movie is about to start. I started in with, "What's your name?" "My name is . . . " Yikes, this is difficult. They are all looking at me strangely when Manah says, "they would like you to sing a song." Great. I won't even sing alone in the shower, never mind in front of 35 kids. The only song I could think of for some reason was the Black Eyed Peas, My Humps (it plays all over SE Asia, give me a break). Obviously, I didn't attempt a rendition of this song, but the only more appropriate song I could come up with was Row Row Row Your Boat, maybe because this is a fishing village. I don't know what the kids were thinking, but I was horrified! The kids followed with Happy Birthday in English even though they didn't know the meaning and I taught them How Old Are You Now. Trying to get this going in another direction, away from any more singing, I started drawing pictures of the local seafood on the chalkboard, writing down the English name and working on pronunciation. At last, a hit, the kids loved this. After an hour they invited me back in the evening for more football, the grown-up version.

Football, Cambodian style, means no shoes, not even flip flops and running around dodging bricks and other debris. Meanwhile, I have no idea who is on my team since there are no identifying shirts or anything else. Football is followed up with dinner at the crab market with the teacher and his friends. At first I was a bit concerned they would expect me to pay for everyone because the crab market was expensive on a teacher's salary of $25/month. Dinner split 5 ways was $2.50, and amazingly they wouldn't let me pay for more than my share. So of course when they asked me to come back the next day for more English I agreed, even though I had planned to move on. After going over body parts and the weather with the little kids, a lesson plan done in advance on a secluded island beach, they asked me to teach the high school kids. Fortunately this time they gave me a book with questions to go over. I don't know where they got this book but the questions were absurd! Do you have children? Do you like to play golf? These are 16-year old kids and I don't think there is a golf course in all of Cambodia! Again we went to dinner. This time they wouldn't let me pay at all. They kept saying how glad they were to have me, the kids loved the pictures, would I stay longer? Needless to say, I was reluctant to leave. Of course, first they made me drink my share of beer.

Thoughts about Cambodia:
1.) The current government in Cambodia is very corrupt. I met a couple who rented a motorbike and had to pay a $30 "bribe" - they worked it down from $80 - for doing nothing wrong, they were following Cambodians around a traffic circle. This is a lot of money for a Cambodian. A bigger problem though is that educated kids can't get a job. A "real job" I was told costs $1k - $2k, unless you "know somebody." As a result, many college educated kids in Phnom Penh work as motorbike drivers. Cambodia has a three-party political system. Everybody I talked to mentions how corrupt the government is, but the same party wins every time. Obviously, everybody also assumes the balloting is rigged.

2.) Men here seem to fall very easily in love. I had one tell me he loved me after he know me for about 10 minutes. Disturbingly, he seemed to be serious. When I told him I didn't have the same feelings he wanted to make sure I wasn't upset with him.

3.) The whole country practically seems to be in ruins. There are the ancient ruins in Siem Reap, of course, and I also talked about the state of decay of the villas in Kep. Additionally I took a day-trip, up a dismal 4WD road to the Bokor Hill Station, now a virtual ghost town. Basically another ruin Khmer Rouge related, Bokor was a French retreat from the hot weather built in the 20s. It even had a casino, among luxurious accomodations, a Catholic Church, and several restaurants. While we were there a constant fog moves up and over the mountains creating this really creepy feeling. While I was exploring I found a recently built cell site and I must say it was up to Bechtel standards. That was impressive.

For photos of Kep, Bokor and surrounding areas, click here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/39463330@N00/sets/72057594100793377/

History Lesson in Phnom Penh, Cambodia

I can only compare the onslaught of touts at the bus station in Phnom Penh to how a rock star must feel when besieged by fans. And there's no escape, they follow you everywhere. A fellow traveller is going to have T-shirts made up that say, "Don't Need: a guesthouse, a motorbike, a tuk tuk, food, etc." Most people on the backpacker circuit say you only need one week in Cambodia, and that there's nothing special in Phnom Penh. I don't know what they're thinking, I really like the city. It's more manageable than Bangkok with a lively ex-pat scene, great food, and a lot of history. If you need to go anywhere someone is always ready to zip you off on the back of a motorbike for cheap. The first day, as I usually do, I rented a bike, which from the looks I got is clearly not a typical barang thing to do. In fact it turned out to be downright suicidal! There are absolutely no road rules. People drive on all sides of the street, pull into oncoming traffic and honk as if the other person is in the wrong. It's almost comedy, except that they don't even watch where they're going. I don't understand how there are not more accidents. And when they almost hit you they radiate a wide smile. I couldn't help but snarl back. I actually thought biking in these conditions was fun though, like playing a video game, at least if I could forget that getting hurt is a very real possibility.

Phnom Penh is home to the Killing Fields and S-21, the Genocide Museum. You can't, and you shouldn't, come to Cambodia and avoid the country's recent history. Since I never studied Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge in the US, I was shocked and really angered at the senselessness of the regime. Of course I knew a genocide occurred here, but this reordering of society was worse, nobody was safe. To save ammunition they killed people with hammers. Anyone could be killed for as little as wearing glasses (a sign of education), taking a shit that showed you ate something other than rice, or doing anything that upset the extremely young, gun-wielding cadres. Pol Pot often killed other people in his own movement, longtime "friends", because he was so paranoid. And everyone starved because the diet often consisted of only three spoonfuls of rice a day. After reading The Killing Fields, and First They Killed My Father, I read a biography of Pol Pot to try and understand what he was thinking. He was clearly influenced by other communist movements at the time in China, Russia, and Vietnam, but committing those atrocities on the people and peasants you are tyring to "help" makes no sense. His philosophy was so out of touch with reality, he was power hungry, saw the killings as an irrelevant sacrifice, and somehow genuinely thought he was helping the country. My favorite quote is when a cadre asked him about the killings and he responded, "I was responsible for everthing so I accept responsibility and blame but show me, comrade, one document proving that I was personally responsible for the deaths." Ummm . . . hello??? Truly, after visiting the Killing Fields and S-21 you don't even know what emotions to feel. At S-21 they have photos of all the people who came through here (14,000 and only 7 survived). Staring into the eyes of these people who know they are screwed is downright bone-chilling. It's hard to believe this all took place here just 30 years ago (75' - 79') and the Khmer Rouge movement only really dropped off when Pol Pot died in 98'. Looking around at the people, I really start wondering about the experiences of anyone who is older than 30. Most people my age, will tell you their parents are dead. And there are so many people with amputated limbs from all the mines, which are still a problem. The Cambodian people generally don't like to talk about this history, and in fact it is not taught in school at all. They really just want to forget and be happy and this is understandable since it's completely incomprehensible. In the Killing Fields, Dith Pran says that for Cambodians grief leaves the face quickly, but it goes inside for a long time. It's really amazing how kind and gentle the people here are, given what they've been through.

Because I was not depressed enough after visiting the two Khmer Rouge sites, I spent the evening listening to a presentation and slide show on the Iraq war by two unembedded journalists who were vacationing. Not to get all political here, but you can't help but see a correlation between Iraq and Cambodia. In the sense that the US government gets involved with these countries, having their own agenda, which certainly isn't a Good Samaritan tour. (The US dropped more bombs on Cambodia than on Vietnam.) The people at first are hopeful that the Americans have come to help. The US never really has control of anything while they are in the country or giving military aid and then they plan their retreat. Meanwhile the country goes to complete shit. This is definitely what happened in Cambodia in the 60s and early 70s. (If it weren't for the US, Pol Pot likely wouldn't have come to power.) And it's definitely happening now in Iraq. Shiites and Sunnis didn't previously fight each other. There's a mini 9-11 in Iraq everyday, and according to the journalists the Iraqi people are nostalgic for the relative calm of the Sadaam days. If that even makes sense. I know this discussion is a bit off-topic for my travel adventure blog, but you can't travel around SE Asia blind to America's involvement here, and I haven't even been to Vietnam yet!

To see photos of Phnom Penh click here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/39463330@N00/sets/72057594101036258/

Ancient Angkors, Siem Reap, Cambodia

You miss a lot when you fly. You miss the changes in landscape from one place to another. You miss the different clothing, or houses, or markets on the roadside. These differences are subtle, of course, but they prepare you for your destination. Arriving at the Siem Reap airport from Vientiane, I felt discombobulated. I didn't even realize most of the country is as flat as a pancake until my bus journey to Phnom Penh. Most people arrive in Siem Reap to the sound of "Hallo Laydeeee. You need guesthouse? Where you stay? Where you go?" I arrived to a sign that said Deb Shea. No need to worry about transportation or a guesthouse, Raksa is in charge here. Raksa is the "little brother" of my friend Kurt in L.A., who met Raksa on a trip to Cambodia and is helping him with his education. Raksa gave me the royal treatment. For three days he took me around the town and to the Angkor temples. Showing up here, I had no idea there was more than one temple, Angkor Wat. It turns out there are over sixty! And several are almost as big and just as overwhelming in their impact. They are all Hindu or Buddhist and built for various Angkorean kings during the 9th - 12th centuries. My favorites are Bayon, comprised of hundreds of huge carved faces with that mysterious Mona Lisa smile, like they know something you don't. Ta Phrom which has several trees perched on top of the ruins with roots reaching down as if to strangle the stone beneath. And Beng Mealea, a temple left unrestored that is completely jungle-ravaged and you get to climb under, through, and on top of giant stone blocks to explore the place, a la Indiana Jones. After three days of melting in the heat though, I did get a bit templed out.

One thing about Siem Reap, that as a barang you cannot escape, is the constant begging by little kids. When you get out of the car at any temple you are surrounded. Some want to sell you books, some origami-like lizards, most postcards, and others want your money for nothing. One little 8 year old girl even memorized the capitols of all 50 states! After a while this gets a bit depressing, and truthfully wore me down. Most of the kids, if not all, are working for behind-the-scenes adults and don't receive much for their efforts. But this is all part of Cambodia and this is a poor country, and it's much more visible, especially when compared to Laos.

Siem Reap clearly caters to more upscale tourists (I spent more here than anywhere else in SE Asia), and it's growing fast, but I'm not convinced the Cambodians are making out so big. For example, Raksa told me the #1 visiting nationality is Koreans, but they stay in Korean hotels, travel on Korean buses, and eat in Korean restaurants. Makes you wonder if they even experience Cambodia at all. Fortunately, with Raksa's help, I had a more authentic Cambodian experience. The first night he took me to a disco (club) where I was the only barang. Upon entering you are pursued to a table by four or five beer girls who are completely in-your-face until you choose a beer. (They get a commission.) Soon Raksa decides we should be dancing. I am a terrible dancer anyway and I really don't need the extra attention that comes my way, being the only old, white, gargantuan in the room. Most people here look 18, but if you put that through the Asian equation they are probably at least 26. They are also tiny, requiring a word that goes beyond petite. Strangely, there are people who's sole job is to make sure your beer is full of ice. I swear, that's all they do. (I found this all over Cambodia.) Otherwise this modern disco looks like it could be anywhere. Raksa also took me to a Cambodian wedding reception. I don't know what the ceremony was like (another day) but it was very similar to a reception in the US with lots of drinking, eating, and dancing. The bride and groom wore very bright colorful outfits, even changing once. Raksa really helped make Siem Reap a great experience despite it's very touristy nature.

For photos of Siem Reap, click here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/39463330@N00/sets/72057594092599342/