Christmastime in Cambridge

During my week of work in Phnom Penh, my DC colleagues asked if I’d be "willing" to attend a workshop in Cambridge shortly after my return. All I could think was "England at Christmastime", so how could I possibly refuse?

It was a mere eight days after returning from Asia so I opted not to recover from jet lag—let’s just say my sleep schedule swung about like a pendulum those days. A short redeye flight later (short if you try to watch a film AND sleep) and the next thing I knew, I’d arrived at Heathrow. It didn’t seem real to be back. I visited England for my birthday in 2007 and never thought I’d be lucky enough to return so soon, if ever. This meant that a few things looked vaguely familiar, and the Tube map a little less overwhelming. I connected with my coworker, Naamal, who’d flown in on another flight and we were soon on a train to Cambridge. That is, after buying a Cornish pasty for breakfast and visiting Platform 9 ¾ at Kings Cross station. Ah, it felt good to be back.


I’d visited Oxford on the 2007 trip so it was fun to compare it with Cambridge. The downtown was quite easy to traverse on foot with beautiful architecture all around, and full of more historical significance than they knew what to do with—I found it delightfully pretentious.

Here are a few tips/notes/lessons learned:
*Cambridge University just celebrated their 800th birthday.
I wonder what their fight song was like back then?

*Whatever you do in England, take the guided tour.
It’s a lesson I learned the last time I was here, and this trip only served to confirm it. They tell such interesting and entertaining stories, and are clearly proud of their country’s heritage. I was lucky enough to arrive a day before the workshop started and took a walking tour of Cambridge, which I then insisted on giving to my coworkers who weren’t so fortunate the following night. Example: Cambridge has a club called "The Night Climbers", which began when some of the students wanted to begin training for their summer holidays in the Alps by climbing the buildings in Cambridge. In addition to seeing one of their precarious routes, we were also told about some of their infamous pranks.

*Do try the cheese, but before you go all out make sure you have access to a refrigerator.
The last night of my 2007 trip, I purchased a selection of local cheeses from Harrod’s, only to accidentally leave them behind un-tasted. Determined not to repeat that mistake, I went to a specialty cheese shop my first night and purchased a fair amount of a smoked Wensleydale and a Stilton. I came back to the hotel and discovered that our rooms were very nice, but did not include a mini-fridge. For the record, the Wensleydale was great, but the Stilton was too strong for my taste.

*All the clocks work here
From Big Ben to the colleges of Cambridge, I was pleasantly surprised to find that even the old clock towers keep accurate time. That being said, Cambridge has a new clock called the Chronophage ("time eater" in Latin)--a clock with a monstrous grasshopper on top. It keeps accurate, albeit syncopated time, and is fascinating to watch.

*I covet their bike baskets
Cambridge is a bicycle-rider’s dream. It appeared to be the most popular form of transportation by far, and the best part was their bike baskets. They were huge, about the size of a Xerox box, and usually wicker or rattan. I was so tempted to bring one home with me, so it was probably a good thing the bike shops in Cambridge were closed by the time we’d finish the workshop each night.

*A "Panto" is completely different from pantomime and very entertaining.
I was fortunate to have my evenings free and used several of them to enjoy the local performing arts, including the British Christmastime tradition of "panto." Basically they take a well-known story or fairytale, throw in some pop-culture references and songs, and create an evening of fun for all ages—literally (there was a Brownie troop and a woman celebrating her 82nd birthday). The story of "Dick Wittington and His Cat" was new to me and I didn’t get a few of the UK-specific jokes, but the slapstick humor and sing-along at the end made for a great evening.

*Forget "sophisticated" when cobblestones are involved.
Maybe it was the jetlag, or maybe it’s because I was tired of dressing too casually compared to locals, but I was determined for this trip to look like a "sophisticated, international jetsetter" rather than a backpacker. I had the perfect trench coat to base my outfits around, and by careful packing was able to take just my purse and a small rolling suitcase. However, I apparently left my brain at home because I forgot just how many cobblestone streets there are in England, to say nothing of the stairs in their Tube stations. It was an excellent workout, but you don’t look nearly as sleek when you’re breathless and disheveled from wrestling your luggage.


*The Tower of London has no left luggage, but plenty of spiral staircases.
This point came most forcefully on my free Saturday, which I spent in London seeing one thing I’d missed back in 2007—the Tower of London. It’s pricey, but there’s so much to explore and the Beefeater-guided tour was so enjoyable that I chose to spend the whole day there. This was fine, except it was ALL cobblestones and stairs—often tight, spiral ones to go up in the many towerS. I don’t know why I thought they’d have a place to leave my bag, but in hindsight I should be grateful they let me in with it at all. Most of the staff was really quite sympathetic about it.

(not pictured: my suitcase)

It was quite the arm workout, but I couldn’t leave a corner of that place unexplored. The only modern convenience was in the room with the Crown Jewels. After winding you through a series of rooms playing short videos to explain them and hype them up, you finally enter the room and go past their cases on moving sidewalks. Between my geologic nerdiness and love of bright, shiny objects, that sidewalk moved way too fast so I had to go by several times before I was satisfied. That night, I met up with an old friend from DC who had recently moved to London. He permanently endeared himself to me when he took over schlepping duty from my weary arms. Long live chivalry!

*Evensong is a great way to see a chapel for free.
Many historic chapels charge a rather hefty admission fee, which can be worth it for the tour and chance to see the beautiful windows or go on the roof, but it still rubs me the wrong way to pay for entering a house of worship. However, they don’t charge for worship services so evensongs are free. I was so excited to hear the Kings College Cambridge choir perform, only to discover their semester ended the week before I arrived and with it, their nightly evensongs. However, by luck I was able to find another college’s choir performing one of the nights I was in Cambridge and their sound was also beautiful. Plus, between their robes and the conductor’s baton it seemed a little more like something out of "Harry Potter." My Saturday night in London included an evensong at the newly-restored St. Paul’s, which is apparently celebrating its 300th birthday this year. There is something so beautiful about the sound and acoustics of a British choir in a cathedral.


*The V&A gives you the most "bling" for your buck.
I capped off my trip with a brief visit to the Victoria & Albert (V&A) museum, just down the street from church. They’d just opened a great new medieval wing, but it quickly became apparent that there was too much to see in a single visit. However, while wending my way out I spied their jewelry collection and was sucked in. The Crown Jewels have more political and historical significance, but I’ve never seen so much jewelry in a single collection outside of Tiffany’s. There were pieces from every time period showing different styles, techniques, and materials/gemstones. Plenty of tiaras, but I was most excited to see a Gimmel ring, something I’d learned about in gemology class.


All in all, Christmastime is enchanting, but I hope to return to England someday when there are leaves on the trees and I can go for a long bike ride.

“If we come away with largely shopping memories, all of us have failed” –Dr. Jacobs

I learned this travel mantra during my study abroad in Vienna back in 2000. Over time I’ve seen the truth in it, as the whole point of souvenirs is to have things that recall memories of a place, and the memory should be more than what it took to purchase that object. Besides, with a little luck you’ll visit so many places that the last thing you’ll want is more “stuff” to haul around. I’d succeed in avoiding too much shopping on this trip by the sheer duration of it, aside from the Russian Market in Phnom Penh, but my grand Asian adventure was drawing to a close, Bangkok was renowned for its cheap shopping, and despite the tropical weather it was still Christmastime.

My last morning in Khao Lak, and indeed Thailand, began with a morning swim in the perfect waters of the Andaman Sea before a Thanksgiving Skype with my family. All too soon I had to leave paradise behind and go to the Phuket airport for the flight back to Bangkok, just long enough after my last dive to be safe. During the drive I saw many Thai women wearing hijab, the Muslim head scarf. I knew Indonesia is the largest Muslim country in the world and that Malaysia’s not far away, but somehow it never crossed my mind that this faith would be so dominant in this region. The fact that it was a Friday only increased their presence, I suppose. The Phuket airport’s runway is parallel to a pristine beach with gorgeous white sand, and practically taunts you that you’re leaving it behind for something that can’t possibly compete.

The flight was short and I was becoming a pro at Bangkok’s main airport, as this was now the fourth time I’d flown into it. After dropping off my bags at the hotel and consulting their staff, I set out to make some final memories of Bangkok before the shopping spree. My time was limited, but I took “the Khlong” like a pro to central Bangkok and took a brief walking tour to my destination: Wat Pho. This temple in a land of temples stands out for many things: the oldest and largest in Bangkok, the largest statue of the Buddha in Thailand, and the birthplace of Thai massage. Alas, time did not permit a proper tribute to this last fact, but I do appreciate the idea of a massage after worship. As it was, I got there near sunset as things were starting to close. A kind woman offered to guide me through the maze of buildings and show me the highlights. There are over 1,000 statues of Buddha in Wat Pho, but the big three (literally) are one of him sitting, one standing, and one reclining. This last one blows all the others out of the water, and is possibly the largest sculpture of a human I’ve ever seen. This golden giant fills a room and dwarfs the flock of tourists walking the perimeter in a vain search for a camera angle to properly take it all in. My favorite features were the spiky curls on his head, and the beautiful inlay on his feet. Given their cultural aversion to feet, I was surprised at the beauty and detail of the inlay work on this part of his body. I also heard a faint pinging sound, and once I was on Buddha’s other side I saw a line of bowls against the length of the wall that Buddhists would walk down and drop coins into. It made a beautiful sound, but I never learned its significance. Outside, I took dozens of photos of the glistening mosaics in the setting sun, and followed a few monks around in an attempt to get a few last shots.

After that, the tourist hat came off and the shopping hat came on—though for me, this was a cultural experience unto itself. My spree began in a curry shop I’d read about, where I picked up the few items to bring home that actually had names and instructions in English. From there I dove into the world of Thai shopping malls. Part of the reason my coworker suggested this hotel was actually its proximity to retail, but I had no idea the many scales they shopped on in this city. There were street vendors, small indoor shops, and giant shopping malls all around us—I believe there were at least five malls in walking distance. I found this all more than a little overwhelming, but there was one in particular people kept suggesting: MBK.

En route to it I cut through another mall and was surprised at the number of western shops, but was delighted with their basement. The food court contained many different cuisines, but it also contained all the street food you could want, prepared in an environment you could trust for food safety. It also contained one of the most high-end grocery stores I’ve seen anywhere, though I had to laugh when I saw that one of their luxury gift baskets for Christmas contained American food: peanut butter, cranberry juice, pasta sauce, etc. It just goes to show that it’s all about context, and an item out of context can be perceived as an exotic luxury. I knew this was the right place for one of my specific gifts: a fruit carving set for my brother. He’d explained it to me, but it was a bit harder to explain to people that don’t cook and aren’t fluent in English. That I found it at all was a miracle, and with that I attempted to exit the mall and go across the street. This seemed so simple on the map, but I hadn’t counted on the mall’s size and the need to determine which elevated walkway to take across the street.

Finally, I was in…and a little in over my head. MBK was massive, over five stories with wings stretching out of sight, but full of small vendors selling things I could persuade myself to buy. How on earth do you tackle something like that? I started walking down passages at random and soon realized there were a lot of duplicates, that in some areas it was as if the street vendors had simply moved indoors. In a place like this I’d normally shop very methodically, checking out every shop of a type and thinking it over before making my decision. However, I knew from previous experience that there wasn’t enough time and it was quite possible I’d never find the same store twice, so when I found something good I’d get it and accept that it may have been $1 cheaper on the other side of the mall. All too soon the time crunch started to hit, as stores started closing all around me. I tried walking faster and a few places closed as slowly as possible, but soon there was nothing left I could buy in this retail metropolis.

As soon as I stepped outside, however, the night markets surrounded me. Vendors sold wares on blankets spread out on the elevated walkways, and racks crammed the ground level sidewalks as locals and tourists alike pushed their way through the crowd. The selection was slimmer and the lighting was usually poor, but I was able to pick up a few more things. Once the shopping began it was a little hard to stop, but soon my bags were full and my wallet wasn’t, so it was just a matter of figuring out how to get home. By this time it meant walking around the perimeter of malls, where they kept the party going with several outdoor concerts. A few weeks earlier and I may have stopped, but it was late and I now had a lot of packing to figure out. Back at the hotel I chatted with the front desk guy and he asked me if I’d been shopping in Chinatown since they’re open all night. Maybe next trip…

I was lucky that the packing didn’t take too long, but there hardly seemed a point in lying down since it was already very late and we had an obscenely early departure for the airport. Taking a fashion tip from Cambodia, I shuffled down to the corner 7-11 in my PJs and spent the rest of my change on snacks and other assorted fare to remind me of Thailand. A few hours later, our cab arrived and we were on our way to the airport. I’d done this so many times that the significance couldn’t really hit me that I wouldn’t be coming back to Bangkok. Five weeks, gone just like that. Cori’s flight was an hour earlier so I had some extra time to enjoy my last mangosteen and hike the terminals before boarding. As the sun rose my plane rose, too, above the skyscrapers and rice paddies and away from Thailand.

My flight back to DC was pretty uneventful, aside from a layover in Japan. It was just long enough to buy sushi, which was the first time I’d done this without assistance, and I must say it was neat to see it made and delicious to eat. I can also say that even the bathrooms reflect their love of gadgets. My last flight was over the North Pole, and I kept lifting the window screen in the hopes of glimpsing the Northern Lights. Alas, I only saw darkness, but I’m still convinced their insistence to keep the screens down was a conspiracy to keep us from seeing Santa. Several naps, movies, and hours later, I was back in DC and thoroughly disoriented with the sensation of winter. It’s good to be home, but what do you do for an encore?

Scuba School

Far from lounging on the beach all day, “scuba school” kept me busy and left me weary but was such a treat. The first morning began in a classroom, watching videos and listening to lectures to get some of the theory down before actually getting in the water. That afternoon, we began our pool work at a nearby resort. We probably looked as funny as I felt to have so much gear on for such a shallow depth, but it was great to have the place to ourselves as I attempted to unlearn holding my breath. The biggest surprise came when I had to swim to the other end of the pool and discovered a bunch of legs in speedos—we were no longer alone and the European guests had returned. Thankfully class was soon over for the day, and I finally had a chance to walk along the copper-colored sand on the beach and watch the setting sun over the water.

The next day began even earlier as we took a speedboat out to the Similan Islands. The water was that same sapphire blue I’d seen in Zanzibar, and I was happy just to be there. I was also relieved that unlike my trip to the Great Barrier Reef, the seas were calm and I didn’t get seasick. We did our briefings/lectures on the boat so we could dive as soon as we arrived at the islands, and I used other downtime to complete the swimming and floating requirements that are normally done in a pool. Why swim laps in a pool when you can swim laps around a boat, admiring the fish and the beautiful water?

On my very first dive, I saw the one creature I had really wanted to see: a hawksbill sea turtle. Talk about beginner’s luck! Again, I was so content we could’ve stopped there, but it takes four dives to get certified (two each day). We saw such a gorgeous variety of fish, coral, and other sea creatures that I quickly wore out my dive master’s “scuba sign language” vocab as I kept asking her to identify everything. I’m glad we wrote most of it in my dive log, and I’m almost ashamed to say that I began to take some of it for granted like “Oh, more damsel fish, trumpet fish, trigger fish, clown fish, glass fish, etc….” Honestly, picture “Finding Nemo” or the fanciest fish tank you’ve ever seen and that’s about it. We also saw an eel, a creature that I have an irrational fear of, so I was grateful that we didn’t stay long and never saw another.

The other benefit to scuba diving in Thailand is lunch! Again, I was grateful for a full appetite and thoroughly enjoyed a tasty curry lunch on the upper deck overlooking the water. The visibility was excellent and you could see some fish near the surface, including large schools of a species that swam right near the surface so you could see their ripples on the water in the distance.

Thanksgiving Day I received my certification. Talk about a lot to be grateful for! Again we had perfect weather and gorgeous scenery, and I added lion fish, barracuda, and a leopard shark to my dive list. During our lunch break, I even had a quick trip to the main island to climb to a rock overlooking the bay. The white coral sand was perfect, and again, I could’ve been content to spend the day just sitting there in paradise. Putting on my “professional tree hugger” hat, I asked my dive master about the health of Similan Islands National Park on the ride back to the mainland. It’s closed during the stormiest months of the year, and in fact just opened for the season a few weeks before I arrived. I asked her if those months allowed the wildlife to recover from the onslaught of tourists, and was surprised by her answer. “Normally, yes…but this is Thailand” and went on to explain that when the Park is closed to tourist boats, fishing boats come in illegally because there are fewer people to spot and report them. Each season she notices fewer large fish than she’d seen at the end of the previous season. So unlike the Great Barrier Reef that’s being loved to death, in this location divers are actually ensuring its continued survival.

That night, I celebrated by getting a massage and mani/pedi that ended up taking so long that the restaurants had all closed by the time I’d finished. So instead of a gluttonous Thanksgiving feast, I had a slothful evening and topped it off with a street food called Roti, a fried crepe topped with fruit, sweetened condensed milk, or chocolate.

“Wo bin ich?” or “If you could hie to Khao Lak…”

Where is Khao Lak? It’s one thing to be in a place you’ve never been to before, but I felt like I was literally off the map. It turns out this very nearly became a reality, as the 2004 tsunami hit this area of Thailand hardest and Khao Lak was, indeed, almost wiped off the map. Nearly five years later, you’d hardly recognize anything had ever happened. In fact, I’d say there were only three signs of this tragedy: the trees along the beach are younger (but still tall), the power lines were completely replaced and look western in their neatness rather than the typical jumbled mess, and the police boat they’ve left as a memorial. The night of the tsunami, one of the king’s grandsons was staying at a resort in Khao Lak and they had a 60-foot police boat patrolling 1 km offshore. The tsunami picked up this large metal ship and deposited it in the middle of a field nearly 2 km inland. The sight of this boat put the strength of the storm into perspective, but it still didn’t seem real.

Khao Lak is one of many small resort towns on the western coast of Southern Thailand, about 80 km north of Phuket, and it turns out they’ve all found their niche by catering to different languages. They all have signs in English and English-speakers, but I was told one town caters to Russians, another to Norwegians, etc. Wouldn’t you know, we ended up in the German town? I hadn’t heard this much German spoken since studying in Austria and naturally I was excited to hear it again, but this was a little disorienting. For example, one restaurant sold Tom Yum soup with pork knuckles? And Khao Lak was littered with tailor shops like every other tourist stop, but these had dirndls in the window right next to the Chinese dresses and modern suits. It also catered to a different demographic than the usual backpacker beach resort: families and retirees were everywhere. This left a nightlife that was lacking, but made me feel safer to walk around alone at night.

Where’s Doppler Radar when you need it?

I knew I wanted to end this adventure on a warm, tropical beach, and southern Thailand provides plenty of choices. Too many, in fact, but they can be organized into two categories: Gulf of Thailand side, and Andaman Sea side. After consulting numerous friends and countless travelers, we decided that visiting an island in the Gulf of Thailand named Kho Tao would best suit our needs and timeframe. The guidebook said to take an overnight train to a ferry, so that’s exactly what we did. For a 2nd class sleeper, I was quite impressed with our train. Soon after pulling out of Bangkok they converted the benches into beds, pulled down the upper bunks, and made up our beds with sheets. I opted for the upper bunk, and was grateful for packing an eye mask to block out the light that peeked over the curtains. In many ways it reminded me of the trains I’d taken in India. In what felt like the middle of the night, we got off the train with a few fellow travelers at a small and mostly empty station—it was only 5 AM, after all. Our only objective was to stay awake until we made it to the ferry, a large speed boat to take us to the island. As the sky started to lighten, I was a little disappointed to see it was overcast and thought how that would affect my tan. That was the least of our worries.

I noticed the wind as we boarded the ferry but thought little of it. It was only as the boat pulled away from the harbor that the staff explained that they would attempt to make it to the island, but if the weather was bad we would have to turn back. Excuse me? How dare the weather interfere with my plans! We had barely left the harbor and hadn’t even cleared the barrier islands when the ship was violently rocking back and forth with waves washing over the front. Less than ten minutes away from the dock, we turned around and went back to have them explain that another company would leave from a different dock in four hours if we wanted to wait. At this point we were tired and didn’t feel like we had other options so we decided to wait. It was only on the van ride to the other dock that we began conversing with our fellow passengers. One couple was from Switzerland but now lives on Kho Tao. They explained that it’s a beautiful island 11 months of the year…just not in November, when monsoonal rains hit the Gulf of Thailand. Again, something our research failed to include. I’d seen a few regional weather reports on our trip, but they were always focused on the typhoons that were (thankfully) nowhere near us. Even if this other ship was able to make it to the island, there was no guarantee they’d be able to make the return trip in time for us to catch our flights to the US, to say nothing of the diving while we were there. They then suggested an alternative: Khao Lak, on the Andaman Sea side. In all the conversations I’d had this name had never come up, but the more they described it the more it seemed like a perfect fit for our situation.

We spent the rest of the day on buses crossing the peninsula through farmlands and jungle, and being subjected to Thai karaoke videos which were only novel to a point. I noticed an increase in the number of mosques, and on the last half of our trip we kept stopping at security checkpoints where armed soldiers would board the bus and check IDs...but only of the Asian passengers. It was only later when I looked at a map and chatted with the locals that I realized it was because we were quite close to the Burma border and they were looking for illegal immigrants. For someone who likes to have everything planned out and guidebooks/recommendations to go on, I felt out of my comfort zone as we stepped off the bus but as fate would have it we lucked out. We walked across the street to the closest travel agency and within minutes had a hotel and dive shop that was able to accommodate our situation. Cori was already certified and wanted to get in as many dives as possible; but the whole point of this leg, for me, was to get certified. Every school I’d researched to that point required a minimum of four days, and thanks to our weather delay I now only had three full days for this. It required a private class, but they were willing to work around me. As I emailed home that night:

Cori and I had our own little "Amazing Race" today, so after an overnight train ride and having our ferry to Kho Tao cancelled, we bused further south and across Thailand to Khao Lak. Plan B is looking great, though more expensive. I will have more blogging time tomorrow to catch up on things, but here's the number of hours since I've:

brushed my teeth: 26
showered: 48
washed my hair: 72

…to which mom replied:
So, what you're saying is that you are a girl after your Dad's heart. You were playing Boy Scout—no shower, no teeth brushed, no hair washed. Dad's proud of you for becoming one of them. :-)

Plane, train, automobile, Khlong, Sky train, water taxi, tuk tuk…

We were back in Bangkok, this time for nearly 24 hours, and without planning it we managed to use just about every mode of transportation possible. Our flight arrived so late that we took a taxi straight to our hotel and called it a night. The next morning, we were pleasantly surprised to discover we were mere minutes from church. This chapel must have been an office building at one point, because it’s the only one I’ve seen with a concierge desk. Once again the talks and lessons were excellent, and this week we had the bonus of joining the members for a potluck lunch after church. I can’t tell you what the dishes were, but I can tell you they were delicious assortment of curries and mango sticky rice for dessert. During this, I asked the missionaries for the best place to buy ties and wasn’t disappointed, but we never could’ve found it on our own because it involved taking…”the Khlong”.

A khlong is actually a canal, and there are a few key ones cutting across central Bangkok that are served by boats acting as public taxis. A sweet couple escorted us across the street and down a hidden staircase to the narrow canal where we stood on a platform with a sign that looked very informative—if you spoke Thai. We waited for a few minutes and soon a khlong taxi pulled up. These boats were clearly custom-made for this; they were just wide enough for two to pass each other in the canal, and were just tall enough to go under the bridges. Some bridges were so low that the boat’s roof could be retracted down nearly a foot to squeeze underneath. They lowered the plastic tarp that encircled the boat to protect the passengers from spray and we climbed in to sit down on one of the benches. The couple told us to go 5 stops and with that, we were on our way, zooming down the canal. This quickly became one of my favorite forms of transportation. For 8 baht, you got a backstage “cruise” in central Bangkok with the locals. The tie lady was impressive for the sheer variety of ties and great prices, but no two were alike and I was after a matching set.

From there we took the Skytrain. I was impressed at the system’s cleanliness, and divided my attention between the Bangkok skyline and the screens in each car showing commercials. Bangkok truly exists on several levels, with elevated trains, overhead pedestrian walkways, elevated freeways, etc. Heaven help the person with a wheelchair, as elevators were hard to spot. We got off at the main river, Chao Phraya, and boarded a larger water taxi to go up the river. This seemed quite tame after our khlong adventure, but was still great and the scenery was much prettier. We passed several temples and other beautiful buildings before getting off at the royal palace. From there we walked a bit before taking a tuk tuk to see a Buddha statue over 32 meters tall at Wat Indravihan and the Golden Mount, an artificial hill containing relics of the Buddha. We’d been warned against tuk tuk scams, but our tired feet were grateful for the break and we actually wanted to visit a gem factory to see how gemstones are cut. We beat some of the notorious Bangkok traffic by taking a khlong taxi back to the hotel, only to have our regular car taxi get lost and stuck in traffic. We made it to the train station with just enough time to grab a quick dinner and some water before our overnight journey south.

Uncle Ho says hi

We spent our Saturday (21.November) in Hanoi seeing a few highlights and just enjoying the feel of the city. The night before, one of John’s friends told us why he loved Hanoi and it completely changed our perspective. Our travel-weary friends on the cruise had left us with quite a negative impression, but it just goes to show that it’s all about attitude. We found the people to be friendly, the street food tasty, and the transport exciting. Hanoi will be celebrating its 1000th birthday in 2010, which puts any birthday in perspective.

Armed with a hotel map, a guidebook from John’s friend, and a mental image of the landmarks (courtesy of the karaoke videos the night before), we set off. First tourist stop: Uncle Ho (Chi Minh’s) mausoleum. We couldn’t get very close, so really all we saw were the uniformed guards. I thought that calling him “Uncle Ho” was a nickname from the West that the Vietnamese would find insulting, but it turns out he insisted on calling himself that as part of the image he was trying to project to the Vietnamese people. Just around the corner was the One Pillar Pagoda jutting out of a pond on a single stilt like a flower. Then it was off to the Temple of Literature, over 900 years old and Vietnam’s oldest university, based on the teachings of Confucius. It had a series of courtyards and beautiful ancient architecture, but the best part was stumbling upon a concert. Women in traditional dress played instruments, some of which I’d never seen before. A bamboo xylophone looked the coolest, but the most ingenious instrument had different lengths of bamboo tubes and was played by hitting the tube ends.

A short moto ride later and we were back in the Old Quarter, where we stumbled upon a bridal photo shoot outside a Catholic church. The best part was the props: a gold scooter and a bunch of balloons. The architecture in this area is mainly from the French colonial period and was the perfect place to grab lunch. Our criteria: it must be popular with average Vietnamese folks and we must see the food being prepared so we can verify that it’s (relatively) safe and point to what we want if the menu’s not in English. We found a place that met both of these rules and were seated on low stools out on the sidewalk for a meal that was delicious, even if we were never confident what we were eating.

One of our final stops was to Hoan Kiem Lake. There was a myth surrounding the lake and a magical sword that anciently gave them victory over the Chinese, which sounded a little like Excalibur. It’s also the last home of a species of giant turtle that’s a part of this myth, and they have a specimen of it preserved in a temple in the middle of the lake. Sightings of the few remaining turtles are so rare that when they happen, everything grinds to a halt—I was told a government meeting broke up the last time one was seen. I found it so interesting that they could have so much respect for one type of turtle, when around the corner they were eating its cousins. Crossing the red bridge to the temple we interrupted yet another bridal shoot. I should mention that these brides look like princesses…western princesses. I know it’s become common for brides to wear a western dress as well as the traditional Vietnamese outfit on their big day, but we never saw the latter while walking around. Oh, and according to an in-flight magazine, that “traditional” outfit of a long fitted tunic over billowing trousers is actually less than a century old—before then, women wore loose fitting tops and bottoms.

From there it was a race back to the hotel and then to the airport. Our stay in Vietnam was brief but delightful and full of memorable sights: women in conical hats carrying wares in basket scales balanced on their shoulders, old men in berets playing Chinese checkers, hoards of motorbikes racing towards us while we attempted to cross the street, people playing a version of badminton with their feet in the park, and a blend of eastern and western architecture. As an American, I was always a little wary whenever the “American War” was mentioned and was afraid to say or do anything out of line, but the people were friendly and it’s a country I hope to explore further someday.

Only off by a few degrees

As we stepped off the plane in Hanoi, Vietnam, I couldn’t focus on my first smell as I had in Thailand and Cambodia. Instead, I was forced to focus on how cold it was. The pilot had announced as we were landing that it was 18 degrees outside, and while I still haven’t mastered the metric system I knew that 23 degrees was room temperature (and the lowest temperature I’d felt to date on the trip). Five degrees isn’t that bad in Fahrenheit, but in Celsius it’s significant—and it only got cooler, as a billboard posted 15 degrees on the drive to town. I knew Vietnam was a long, skinny country, but clearly was oblivious to how far north we were. I’d later learn Hanoi is 200 km of the China border, and Halong Bay only 100 km.

My lack of preparation for this part of the trip became chillingly obvious. Thankfully I had trousers, a long-sleeved shirt, and a light jacket that I’d only expected to use them on the plane. The whole point of this trip was to escape the cold, and here I was traveling right back into it. Mind you, it wasn’t that cold, but when you’re coming from tropical heat and expecting more of the same, temperatures in the low 60’s feel downright frigid. I was a little crestfallen at this turn of events, as my plans of swimming and basking in the heat on the boat slowly dissolved. I couldn’t help but reflect on the mural I’d just seen at Angkor Wat, that one depicting the people shivering in hell. What was I doing (besides miring in self-pity)? The drive to our hotel was mostly pitch-black and I was exhausted from another sunrise, but we did see a motorbike carrying hundreds of roses to market.

The next morning we finally booked our Halong Bay cruise, and had firsthand experience with the phrase “same same” that we’d heard so often on this trip. They’ll say it to convince you that while they’re giving you something other than what you’d wanted, it’s equivalent—and it’s often not. We drove to the Bay with another company’s groups and heard about all the great things they were doing and were really impressed with their guide. Unfortunately, this set the bar a little too high for our group, but thankfully Halong Bay is too spectacular for any company to spoil. I’d first heard about Halong Bay in a geology class. Once again, after seeing a picture I was determined to visit it. No matter that it required another visa for another country, another plane ticket, and that we could only stay for a few days. Thank goodness Cori was willing to go along with it, because it was just as stunning as I’d hoped!

Our day was spent cruising in the Bay with a visit to a beautiful cave, which they “enhanced” with their colorful lighting.

Then we cruised further and further into the Bay, lost in a maze of karst typography until we docked near other boats for the night. Luckily the other passengers were friendly, and we unanimously requested to turn off the Vietnamese karaoke so we could have a quiet night and an early bedtime for once. Cori and I lucked out with a suite at the back of the boat, so we each had a window overlooking the landscape (bayscape?).

photos at Angkor Wat

(note: I returned to DC yesterday afternoon, and will catch up on the rest of my trip as life and jetlag permit. Meanwhile, here's the "monk shot" I mentioned in an earlier post, as well as a shot of me at sunset inside Angkor Wat. -kk)

Of karsts, kayaking, and karaoke…or how I spent my birthday

I awoke on my birthday to an overcast sky, but it was beautiful in a melancholy way with dramatic karst towers jutting out of the water and junk ships bobbing in the opaque, turquoise waters. We quickly dressed and prepared for our official activity of the day: kayaking. This is an activity I always love to do, so the opportunity to do this in such a gorgeous setting was really a treat. The floating kayak rental place doubled as a fish market, so while waiting for our kayaks we peeked in the platform’s holes where they stored the fish waiting to be bought. We were told some of the critters were unique to Halong Bay, and the most interesting was a squid without any tentacles that could change color from white to brick red. It had a sort of bottom ruffle that it wiggled to move about, and I was more than content to view it from a distance.

We’d expected a guided kayaking tour, but this “same same” experience simply gave us the following instructions: don’t break or damage their expensive equipment, be back in an hour, and don’t get lost. That last one was harder than you’d think, as the “bayscape” was truly a maze created by these karts formations. Our guide informed us that one tourist had been lost doing this sort of thing for over a week, and while that seemed a bit exaggerated it was nevertheless plausible. Cori and I were determined to make the most of our brief time and paddled “straight” to a sea cave we saw across the water. We quickly learned that there are either currents at work, or we’re stronger paddlers on one side than the other, or both. Either way, we soon zigzagged across the water and arrived at the entrance. It was barely big enough to fit our kayak inside and didn’t go back far, but it was still exciting to float in there and see stalactites overhead. From there we paddled around, enjoying the gorgeous scenery and dodging a few small fishing boats and the higher-end cruises where their passengers were learning tai chi on the top decks. Curious to see how cold the water was, I dipped my hand in and was pleasantly surprised to discover that it was warmer than the air—about room temperature. We’d joked with our fellow passengers the day before about going for a swim, even a polar bear one, but suddenly this actually seemed feasible…

Back on the boat and during breakfast, our guide asked if we wanted to swim. I don’t think he was quite prepared for my prompt, enthusiastic “Yes”, but I meant it! Not long afterward we stopped at a nice spot (they were all starting to look alike by this point) and dropped anchor. Cori was game, but the only other people who joined us were two art students from Australia. The three of them were determined to jump from the top of the ship, but I was content to jump from the main deck. This also meant I had the privilege of going first (I was the birthday girl, after all) and while I was nervous for a moment (remember those squids I saw earlier?), it was a relief to get out of the chilly air and into the water. The others took a bit more coaxing, but soon joined me, much to the entertainment of the whole crew and fellow passengers. We didn’t stay in for very long, and then it was a quick sprint to the room for a cold shower and quick change. So worth it! I spent most of the sail back inside the cabin to keep warm, but ventured out for the last bit to stand at the front of the boat and take in the view one last time.

Back on land we had lunch at a restaurant and took a van back down to Hanoi. On the way, I tried to observe what the other guide had explained on the drive up to the Bay. Today was a holiday in Vietnam: Teacher’s Day. Students get the day off to visit teachers at their homes (parents, if the kids are too young), giving them gifts and possibly trying to improve their grades and exam scores. Apparently some of the flower arrangements we saw were just for that occasion. I also noticed a lot of fairly recent construction along the way. Halong City itself is only about 15 years old and has gone from sleepy fishing village to a mass of giant casinos where the Chinese come on vacation, some never even making it out into the Bay. I noticed many newer homes that all seemed quite narrow but nice and usually about four stories high (Cori thinks they may actually be apartments). Apparently these are a result of the improved livelihoods that are a result of the lifted trade embargo by the US and others. I never fully understood the current economic or political situation in Vietnam, but it appeared that Vietnam opening up to the outside world and the world responding in kind made things better for many people.

Back in Hanoi, we checked into our hotel. It was very nice, but seemed downright luxurious after the boat. I’ve rarely been so excited to take a hot shower! I let Cori go first so I could check my email for birthday greetings and enjoy a long shower uninterrupted. I was amused to find “The Simpsons” (in English) on TV, but then puzzled to discover that facebook was blocked. Apparently Vietnam hadn’t opened to the West as much as I’d thought? We’d later hear two theories about this:
1) the government recognized the power of social networking sites like this to enable opposition movements to organize and wanted to suppress it
2) the government (may) have ties with a competing site, and is hoping by temporarily blocking facebook it can drive up business
Either way, it made me aware of what I take for granted in America.

That evening we met up with an old colleague from work, John Pilgrim. John’s lived in Hanoi for the past few years and gave us a walking tour of the Old City on the way to dinner. It was nice to have him between me and the motorbikes while crossing the street, as this was the densest I’d encountered to date. We did a quick loop around the Old Quarter before meeting up with his friends at a restaurant called Highway 4. I liked the concept as much as the food: create a place where Vietnamese and expats both feel comfortable and can mingle while enjoying delicious Vietnamese food. They ordered most of it, so all I can really tell you is that the catfish rolls are excellent.

At last it was time for the evening’s entertainment: karaoke. What better place to do this than in the heartland, and with expat experts? I’d been a few times in the US, but this was different. Here, you and your mates rent a room for the evening and play DJ, singer, and audience—though these roles quickly blurred into one. Again, I’d learn two things:
1) “Daddy Cool” is a big hit in Hanoi—possibly because the only words are “daddy” and “cool”, perfect if you’re learning English or two sheets to the wind
2) Non-English speakers create the software, so you may not recognize the spelling, grammar, or even lyrics of some of your favorite songs. I’ve heard some Vietnamese enjoy English-language karaoke to improve their English, but if this is their primary exposure to the written language I can see why we had so many miscommunications.

I returned to the hotel rather late, but so happy for the memories and the start of another excellent year.

Say Wat?

By contrast, our second morning in Siem Reap got off to a late start due, in part, to the work part of “workcation”. We headed much further afield to a place called Kbal Spean, or “river of a thousand lingas”. Rather than build a Wat (temple), here they opted to carve directly into the stone riverbed, which made for a great hike. At the trailhead I saw a sign for a Conservation Center. Since this was a workcation after all, I wandered over afterwards for a tour and was rewarded with seeing all the animals I’ve wondered about, including that gibbon the zipline company was named after. These animals are all rescued from poachers or bred in captivity, and returned to the wild where possible. They also use the Center to educate both locals and tourists on the weird and wonderful critters in Cambodia. One was a primate that is able to excrete a toxin from glands on its arms after biting its victim to create an opening. I also figured out that those long skinny pieces of meat I’d seen for sale along the road were water snakes (no, I did not try one). In almost every case, the biggest threats were habitat loss and hunting for “medicinal purposes”. Apparently there’s a lot of superstition that if you stick certain animals into rice wine, it can do everything from clear your complexion to cure syphilis. As a result, you’ll commonly find bottles for sale in the market place (probably as a tourist novelty) containing entire snakes in rice wine.

On that appetizing note, our next stop was a proper temple called Banteay Srei. After the sheer scale of Angkor Wat, the small scale of Bantey Srei took me by surprise, but what they lacked in quantity they made up for in quality. They used a different type of sandstone here so the carvings have stood the test of time better, their beauty and intricacy matched by the depth of the carving into the dark red stone. Our final stop was far more sober—a landmine museum. The curator had been a child soldier with the Khmer Rouge, only to later become a landmine clearer. The small museum showed how it’s done, and gave a sobering reminder of how many areas in Cambodia still aren’t cleared of landmines. We ended the day on a much happier note by eating at a buffet that included more Khmer dancing—this time at reasonable prices.

We tried to fit a little of everything in on our last day, beginning with another sunrise at Angkor Wat—this time inside the temple proper to take a few more photos of early morning light on the stone. We continued on to Ta Keo, and unfinished temple but a steep one they let you clamber all over—a great workout! By this time we didn’t know what to do next, so we had Dara take us to the Wat of his choice. He drove us to another one which was quiet and relatively isolated, crumbling with mature trees growing from its first platform 10 feet off the ground. It was most impressive for the carved naga, a 5-headed snake that is a common feature on these temples.

Next, we fit in a quick cruise on the Tonle Sap. Again, it’s the largest freshwater lake in SE Asia and swells from the monsoonal overflow of the Mekong. This means that while it’s only 2 meters deep in the dry season at its deepest, by the end of the rainy season (now) it is 10 meters deep. It annually floods the forests surrounding it up to the treetops, allowing fish to nibble on leaves that are normally overhead. It also means that the villages on the edge are somewhat migratory, and many opt to simple live on boats their whole lives, creating “floating villages”. They have churches, schools, shops, etc. all on boats which can move with the seasons. Being out there made me realize that water is their whole life and they use it for everything, and all from the same source. We cruised through the flooded forest for a while to the edge of the lake proper, and it finally sunk in when I looked at the horizon and couldn’t see the other side that this was a lake to be reckoned with!

Our final stop for the day was sunset at Angkor Wat, and we’re glad we did. The afternoon light gave the stone a totally different color and glow, and gave us a moment to reflect on incredible past few days. I dashed out a few minutes ahead of Cori, and as I hopped through a dark corridor I glimpsed bright orange to my right. In disbelief, there was a monk in his saffron robes, sitting in a doorway being photographed by another tourist. The shot I wanted was all set up for me! I asked permission, shot a few pictures, chatted for a moment, and continued the sprint to the tuk tuk so we could dash to the airport. (I’ll try to post this shot in a few days)

And with that, we bid farewell to Cambodia. By the way, did I mention how elusive the smells are on this trip? One moment you smell the most incredible street food, only to smell garbage the next. Exotic flowers, diesel fumes, etc…every smell is strong and balanced by something equally repulsive or enticing.

More of a “birthweek” than a birthday

Originally, the purpose of this whole trip was to watch the sunrise from the steps of Angkor Wat on my 30th birthday. Instead, we started the celebrations a few days early by doing that Monday morning instead. Dara picked us up at 04:30 so we could beat the crowds to buy our tickets before dropping us off at the temple. My first glimpse of it was in the dark, looking across a distance (the moat), to see a bunch of trees only illuminated by the lights of other tuk-tuks. Grateful I’d brought a headlamp, we made our way in the dark across a stone walkway, up and down a bit of stairs, and down another long walkway. At a junction, a woman offered to let us sit with the crowd in chairs to watch the sun come up behind the temple. Not wanting to share the moment with crowds, we opted instead to hike around the temple and watch the sun rising on the temple. For this, we had the moment practically with ourselves, only sharing it with a few cows and locals who biked by. The sky gradually lightened to various shades of purples, then blues, allowing us to see the temple emerge from black darkness to grays. Finally, when we could wait no longer we went in. How do I describe it? Massive, intricately carved…I’m sorry words aren’t coming to me. It was great having Cori there as we read in our guidebook about the symbolism of the layout (three tiers symbolically rising to heaven in the middle), and I realized that the general purpose of a temple in their culture held many similarities with my own religious beliefs. In some respects, they learned about the Creation through the engravings and were preparing to meet their god(s) in the next life. Armed with our guidebook we wandered around, trying to decipher the different murals and shoot as many pictures as possible. My favorites were the hairstyles of the Apsaras (celestial dancers) and a mural depicting heaven and hell. Truth be told, heaven looked rather dull as everyone lounged around in their choice of several elegant mansions that all looked somewhat alike. Hell, on the other hand, had much more creativity behind it. Different sins had different punishments associated with them, which were carved with gruesome detail. They had their tongues cut out, were cut in two, cast into flaming lakes, etc… The list goes on an on. My favorite was simply people shivering in the cold—amen, brother!

When we were finally satisfied, we headed to Ta Prohm. This temple actually became my favorite because of the wild state it was left in. I should probably explain at this point that there are several temples in this region built during the Angkor period. After the fall of that civilization many temples were abandoned and reclaimed by the jungle with the exception of Angkor Wat, which was converted to a Buddhist shrine. The French (re)discovered Angkor Wat in the 1860s and the other temples in the following years, leading to the debate of restoration versus preservation. At Ta Prohm, the decision was to leave it in its wild state with many of the giant trees actually holding the walls up in between their roots. I truly felt like an explorer as we weaved our way around fallen passageways, massive carved blocks of stone, and giant trees. Apparently this one had some connection with “Tomb Raider”, but since I haven’t seen it all I could think was “Indiana Jones”. I also appreciated the shade of these trees during the heat of the day.

It was during our late lunch that the early morning, combined with previous nights of little sleep, combined with the overpowering heat, hit me hard. I could go no further, and thankfully Cori was a little knackered herself so we begged Dara to let us lay in the hammocks usually reserved for the tuk-tuk drivers. He laughed and agreed, which led to a great conversation. Cori was determined to learn Khemr, and I was determined to nap, so everyone was happy. Fascinating, and tragic, to hear Dara’s story.

Our final temple of the day was Bayon, a temple covered in giant faces of a particular king. Imagine wandering around in the late afternoon shadows, feeling like hundreds of faces are staring at you as you clamber up steep steps and try not to fall off. All in all, a fabulous day!

Another tuk-tuk, another town

Saturday started with a long bus ride to Siem Reap, which involved watching a lot of Cambodian karaoke videos and the countryside. The latter was far more interesting, and since the road is now paved the journey wasn’t too bad. We passed through few towns, so most buildings were along the road. It was such an odd contrast of traditional homes thatched with palm leaves and on stilts, with newer villas that would be decent by US standards scattered in between. Throw in the traffic—kids biking to and from school, carts pulled by water buffalo, motorbikes carrying everything from people to large pieces of furniture, military trucks, and fellow tour buses and you’ve got 2 lanes of fun. Beyond the homes there appeared to be nothing but rice fields. We stopped at a town along the way, which gave me a chance to walk down a side street and explore for a few minutes. I managed to find a temple with just cows guarding the place, which placed a very different kind of landmine than the Khmer Rouge. I came back to see them selling tarantulas, beetles, and all sorts of insects deep-fried along the side of the road. The locals took samples; the foreigners, only photographs.

Once I arrived in Siem Reap and settled into the hotel, I rented a bike to explore the town and adjust to its smaller size. I actually missed the river, which would be decent by SoCal standards but at 10 meters across, tiny compared to the mighty Mekong I’d just seen. I soon found a cooperative set up where they’re attempting to preserve the traditional arts and saw how they carved, painted, etc. Armed with my LP (Lonely Planet guidebook), I set out to find a place for dinner that included some traditional Khmer dancing. Little did I know what I was in for that night.

My first clue should have been the posh décor and overly helpful staff. My second clue should have been the absence of such trivial things as a menu (and price list). I sat there in my grubby clothes, sipping my pineapple juice and oblivious to my, when they finally handed me the menu. After weeks of eating cheaply, these prices sent me into a bit of sticker shock. The prices were fine by US standards and I would’ve gone there for a special occasion, but it was way more than I expected. Nevertheless, I decided to make the most of it and was treated to an exquisite meal. Perhaps because I knew what I was paying for every bite I savored it all the more, but it was one of the most delicious meals I’ve eaten on this trip. Finally, the show began. The costumes were similar to the ones I’d seen in Thailand, but the dancing was different. They started with one where the boys wore monkey masks and danced as the animals would before interacting with one of the girls dressed in a beautiful sarong with a golden headdress. Their ancient dances had exquisite costumes, but the “dancing” consisted mostly of slowly striking graceful poses—someone later told me that Phol Pot had killed most of the artists, so the dances were basically recreating the carvings at the temples as they attempted to recreate their culture. The folk dances of fisherman, etc. were also quite nice, but it was during that time that I remembered how little money was in my wallet and the credit cards were back at the hotel. I silently panicked until they brought the bill, and was relieved that I came in just a few thousand Riel short of the total. Lesson learned, the night concluded with some swimming in my hotel’s pool, admiring the stars.

On Sunday I was ready in plenty of time for church…if church had started at 9. Turns out it started at 8, so while I’d been an hour early for church in Phnom Penh, I was an hour late in Siem Reap. Thankfully, I’d run into the missionaries my last night in PP and they gave me a phone number to call for directions or I’d never have found it. Once again, the sign was only in Khmer but the meetinghouse was literally a large villa on an unmarked side street. Still, the final 2 hours were great and I had an awesome girl translate for me. Fittingly, the Relief Society lesson was about keeping a journal and I was reminded how many memories I’m collecting. I also saw the difficulties they face when one sister asked for suggestions on how to do this, since she could neither read nor write. Count your blessings if you’re reading this! After church, I was introduced to a member who was also a tuk-tuk driver named Dara—score! BTW, couldn’t even attempt to sing the hymns in Khmer since they didn’t have a Romanized version—maybe next time.

After church I returned to the hotel and welcomed my travel companion for the next 2 weeks, Cori Smith. Cori lived on the floor below me at BYU, and we’ve been talking about this trip since 2001 or so, never believing we’d actually do it. It was a photograph in National Geographic of a monk at Angkor Wat that set the whole thing off, the intense orange of his robe against the gray stone was exotic and exciting. I said I’d go before my passport expired in 2010, but wasn’t very serious as other trips came up and life progressed. Yet here we are! We spent the afternoon visiting a silk farm, seeing how those elegant scarves were made from start to finish. It was a fascinating process, and I had a newfound appreciation for their beauty, and their price—though I’m too frugal to justify the luxury. Dinner was at a café that included butterflies and frogs—live ones as part of the scenery rather than on the menu, thankfully. We made it an early night in preparation for the week ahead.

Did I mention...

• The tuk-tuks here are different? They’re metal, 2-wheeled carriages hitched to motorbikes. And you have to be careful because not everyone knows where they’re going. My coworker says if they say “yes yes yes” (multiple times) it means they have no clue.
• The streets are numbered, but not always labeled? I’ve started seeing a few signs, but most locals say the signs are “hidden”.
• How many Danish people I’ve come across on this trip? We’ve got 2 in the office alone! Lovely folks, but still surprising to see how it dominates the expat scene I’ve encountered. Perhaps a biased sample?
• We have turtles on the roof of the office? The CI-Cambodia office is so cool! They have some tanks on the roof where they’re helping to breed some rare soft-shelled Mekong freshwater turtles to release back into the river when they’re older. These guys are quite flat and stay burrowed under the sand, only to pop up and scare the heck out of me—and the fish that they eat for dinner. They also swim around at night to hunt, which is probably the only way we’d ever know about them. They’re able to stretch their necks out so you have to hold them from behind if you don’t want to be bitten.
• It’s a pajama party in Phnom Penh? I’ve seen several women and children walking around in pajamas at all hours of the day. When you think about it, it’s just a blouse and pants in colorful matching fabric and is quite modest—but I don’t think I’ll follow their lead.
• The sidewalks are for parking? If it’s only a meter wide, they’ll turn it into a restaurant, but many of them are several meters—wide enough for a car or 2 rows of motorbikes.
• The paper napkins here come out of boxes, just like tissues, but are thin and shaped much like toilet paper?
• My hotel room has a balcony, but it’s too hot and humid to actually spend any time out there?
• That Cambodian firework shows are different? They launch them into the air, just like us, but pause a few seconds between rounds. I never realized how short my attention span could be, and kept thinking it was over. As for the grand finale, they had one large and loud one, and that was it. And with their timing, it was a while before I realized that really was the end.
• Jackie Chan was in town last night? I saw him on TV at some peace event.
• Their Independence Monument, near my hotel, is an odd mix of ancient splendor and shopping mall? It’s a beautiful tower, modeled after Angkor Wat, but the fountains around it light up at night in different neon colors like the outdoor malls and movie theaters back home.
• How many Lexus vehicles I’ve seen? Look under the hood, though, and you’ll see a Nissan engine. They’ll take cars, often from the US, that are too expensive to repair and fix them up like new with the cheapest parts. So apparently the most expensive-looking cars are the ones most likely to fall apart at any moment.
• How you probably have Cambodian goods in your closet? Check those labels—one of Cambodia’s biggest industries is garments for chains like the Gap and Adidas.
• The coconut, bread, and ice cream vendors all have songs or announcements they'll broadcast from their carts, depending on the product? The recycling lady just squeezes a horn.
• The rampant corruption? Their “prime minister” is basically a dictator who forced their king to step down when he was too vocal in opposition. His son, the current king, isn’t as respected by the people so it ensures the minister’s power. He lives in a huge house overlooking the Independence Monument, and I recently heard he just appointed Thailand’s ex-PM as the finance minister. Considering that guy was ousted on charges of corruption this doesn’t bode well for Cambodia or already-frosty Khmer-Thai relations. It sounds like with this kind of leaders at the top, similar characters trickle down the ranks. Unfortunately, it has some cultural roots (divine right of rule = if you aren’t making the most of your power, you shouldn’t have it) as well as recent history (when you haven’t been able to think long-term, why not take all you can while you can). I see NGOs all over the place, but not sure how many of them tackle this directly versus hoping to encourage small-scale change through their local staff.
• Most of the commercials appear to be public service announcements? The hot trends right now are mosquito nets and healthy babies/women’s health.
• There aren’t any left-turn lanes? You simply drive onto the left side of the road (cutting across oncoming traffic).
• The hotel I’m staying at, and especially my room, feels like a pygmy MC Escher drawing? There’s no standard for stairs, so some feel ridiculously shallow. And once you’re in the room, there are 3-4 inch “stairs” into the room itself, into the bathroom, from the entryway into the room, and from the room onto the balcony. Stubbed toes abound if you’re not careful.
• We have 2-hour lunch breaks? The office opens at 8, which is normally pretty early for me, but it’s been great to use these longer lunch breaks to explore local restaurants with a few of the staff. Most days with a Dane and an American, but yesterday we went to a local place with some of the Khmer junior staff. They also are pretty good about leaving on time, which is also different than the DC office. Between tea time, long lunch breaks, and working sensible hours I’ve seen a lot on this trip I’d like to bring home with me.
  
  
  

I'll let you know if I notice anything else.

It's a holiday in Cambodia

No, really, I’m not just quoting the song (thanks though, brothers). I’d come prepared to work a full week, only to discover that Monday was their Independence Day (from France in 1953). Cambodia has 29 national holidays a year, more than any other country. So many, in fact, that apparently most offices choose which ones to actually let their staff take off. I was actually rather grateful; as it meant I could spend the day being the tourist I’d meant to over the weekend.

My overall plan was to shop before it got too hot and then focus on Cambodia’s history, beginning with the worst and ending with the best. I returned to the Russian Market, so nicknamed because that’s where all the Russians used to shop. Oddly enough, I didn’t see a single one while I was there. Instead, I attempted to navigate an indoor maze of narrow stalls selling all sorts of things and generally grouped by type. From raw fish to doorknobs to silk scarves to the latest movie, you can find it all there. It was daunting to stare at literal heaps of clothes and stacks of scarves, but also fun to see all the colors and textures. And I’m happy to say I’m getting a little better at bargaining, or at least more comfortable with it, but I still prefer set prices.

From there I went to S-21, a public school that the Khmer Rouge transformed into a place of torture and imprisonment. I’m never in the mood for such tragic scenes, but I also knew it was vital to learn about if I was going to understand why Cambodia is the way I see it now. It was downright eerie to step into rooms that still had bloodstains on the tiles and to stare at the hundreds of portraits they took of their prisoners when they were brought in. Their victims were every age, male and female, and even babies. It was so tragic, but also baffling to see what Pol Pot wanted to achieve and how he attempted to do so. Tearing families apart, forcing strangers to marry only to separate them, killing the intellectuals and from there expanding the circle to anyone he saw as a threat (including members of his own party), clearing the cities and forcing people to slave in fields, burning all the money in the national bank, and by the end of the horror, cutting the country’s population to less than half. The reason I’ve seen so many new buildings is because they probably replaced a building that’d been destroyed, and anyone my age or older was directly impacted by this nightmare and lost at least one member of their family. From there I followed the path their victims took and briefly visited the Killing Fields outside the city. My guide lost all of his family during the regime, and returned here in the 1980s to help with uncovering the mass graves. Personally, I can’t imagine the psychological impact of working there every day, but I’m grateful he did and was willing to share. He kept encouraging me to take pictures, but I can’t say it’s really something I want to dwell on. They’ve kept much of it as they found it, with teeth and pieces of bone and victim’s clothing all around, and signs describing what awful things took place there.

After that I was ready to focus on the positive, starting with the National Museum. It had an impressive collection of ancient sculpture, but I must admit I’m still struggling to distinguish a statue of Vishnu versus Shiva, let alone what time period it’s from or style it’s in. I wondered how these survived the Khmer Rouge since they’d destroyed so much, and the answer is that it was also affected. Some pieces were damaged, and others were looted and sold overseas as art (they had a bulletin board showing examples of art that’s been returned from abroad in recent years).

My last stop of the day was the National Palace. It’s actually a large complex, and because the king still lives there much of it is off limits. The buildings that were open to the public, though, were so beautiful! Lots of beautiful, colorful, and shiny objects abound throughout. Some of the pieces inside were as valuable for their impressive workmanship as the precious materials, and on the whole it felt both regal and exotic. It reminded me that as awful and relevant as the Khmer Rouge era was, there's so much more to their culture.

Monday was the first day of my trip when my mind wasn’t solely focused on experiencing my current location, though. Instead, I kept thinking about Berlin and the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall. I remembered in 1989, when my mom brought German Chocolate cupcakes to my classroom and explained the significance of the event to our family. And with Deutsche Welle available in my hotel room, it was hard to pull myself away from their live coverage from the Brandenburg Gate. With the time difference this made for a very late night, but also an uplifting end to an emotional day. Watching the history of it made me realize what an unexpected event it was and how quickly it happened, making it all the more wonderful in its spontaneity and making a similar birth of freedom elsewhere seem possible when you least expect it. Seeing the lack of freedom they’ve had here and elsewhere in the world makes me realize how much I take my own freedom for granted. Speaking of freedom, I was also celebrating the safe return of my friend, Hani, to the US after over 4 months in Gaza. Only the first month was by choice, and watching his situation unfold in contrast to this adventure made me realize that freedom of travel is also a blessing I shouldn’t take for granted.

Hello, Cambodia!

Once again, a predawn flight to beat the traffic and I was on my way to the next country. It was a short flight, and I was sad the clouds blocked my view of a landscape I’ve wanted to see for so long. I was told to wait until I arrived to buy a guidebook, which I foolishly equated with not doing any research before I arrived. Imagine my surprise when I discovered:

-They drive on the right side of the road! After 2 weeks of forcing myself to get used to the left side, it was a difficult adjustment. Thankfully, their traffic can get chaotic enough that this isn’t really an issue and you can enter a tuk-tuk from both sides.
-They use the US dollar for any amount >$1, but give change in their currency, the riel. And with a current rate of 4300 riel = 1 USD, this is giving me some numbers that make my head reel (sorry, had to throw that in).

I was so tired from my Friday night adventure and early Saturday flight that I was perfectly happy to use my ignorance as a chance to take a long nap. I ventured out long enough to buy water and a few local snacks, and even the grocery store confused me with its odd blend of Asian and western goods. Really now, where am I? I returned back to the hotel and became engrossed by a documentary about Bruce Lee. If anyone’s up for watching “Return of the Dragon” in a few weeks, call me.

Sunday morning I awoke bright and early (easier when the sun rises at 6) to attend church. Again, the chapel wasn’t very far and friends had shown me a picture that made it easier to spot. It’s on a fairly main street and while it did stand out, I was shocked by the number of large villas we passed—it was like being in a Cambodian Corona del Mar. I was actually an hour early, which gave me a chance to sit and admire the beautiful building. The international branch is quite small, but I’ve heard there are now 8,000 LDS in Cambodia! The members were very welcoming and it was nice to actually contribute to the lesson without needing a translator. Besides, I’ll get my Khmer kick next week in Siem Reap.

After church, I was met by the head of our Cambodia office, David “Wiggy” Emmett. I’d met him in DC so it was nice to see a familiar face again, and he was kind enough to give me a tuk-tuk tour past the major sites before we grabbed lunch and dropped in on the Russian Market so I could finally buy my guidebook. It was also nice to chat with him and actually learn about what CI does in this country. In my position I get to learn about the overall work of many different departments in the organization, but usually only on a superficial level and usually only from headquarters. They’ve got such cool stories to tell!

Take me to the Bridge (on the River Kwai)

After the whirlwind that was Chiang Mai, I came to Kanchanaburi for just 2 things: the Death Railway/Bridge on the River Kwai, and to visit a waterfall. It took me just a day to accomplish both, which is good because that’s all I had. Despite a pre-dawn flight to Bangkok, it cost me almost as much time and money (less time, more money) to get across Bangkok as it did to take a regional bus to the town over 100 km away! By the time I arrived I was exhausted and had missed the day tours, so I booked a tour for the following day and settled down for a bit of a nap. Another friend suggested a guesthouse and I’m glad she did, for novelty’s sake alone. My room was actually on the River Kwai! Fun, though it did rock a little if a boat went by too fast. Kanchanaburi has these large floating restaurants, which look like an open shed on a raft, pulled by a small boat. These restaurants double as karaoke bars and are apparently very popular with Thais on the weekends, so in the interest of sleep I was grateful to miss them at their peak.

I awoke just in time to visit the Railway museum in preparation for the following day and I’m glad I did, as it gave me greater insight into the tragedy of the Railway. I’d watched the movie right before leaving on this trip (which was filmed in Sri Lanka, BTW), but hadn’t really learned the full story. I think as an American, I tend to overestimate our role in any situation and this was no different. It hit home when they had a display comparing the number of casualties by country during the railway’s construction. Relatively speaking, we only lost a few because there weren’t many Americans there to begin with. By contrast, the number of Burmese and Malaysians was staggering. I later learned that Japan had an agreement with Thailand that they wouldn’t force Thais to work on the railway, so while many chose to work as paid laborers, they weren’t subjected to the same hours and living conditions and hence had a negligible mortality rate. I was also surprised at the high number from the Netherlands, given their population compared to Britain. The museum is adjacent to an Allied cemetery with nearly 7,000 graves, and I imagine their families were grateful for the closure it provided—many families weren’t so lucky and have no idea where their loved ones are buried. From there, I walked to the famous bridge itself as the sun was setting, walking along its tracks as I tried to get my head around this. The bridge was indeed bombed by the Allies as the movie depicts, so a replacement for the middle was actually brought in from Java. So many men were forced to build the railway and died in the process for various reasons, only to have their comrades destroy it and accidentally kill many of them as well in the attempt, as their housing was difficult to distinguish from other strategic targets. A rather melancholy way to end the day, but it was good for me in a cathartic sense.


The next morning began on a far happier note. My very international group (Belgium, Netherlands, Germany, Denmark, and Russia) started with a hike in Erawan National Park to visit their most famous waterfall. The waterfall actually consists of 7 tiers, which you hike up along and swim in their pools as you please. The geologist in me was in heaven! The karst topography (weathered limestone) made for jagged peaks, and the water created white terraces that reminded me of Yellowstone (but the water wasn’t hot). The minerals in the water also turned it a pale blue. The biggest surprise was seeing fish in all these pools—how the heck did they get 2 km upstream and into pools that had sheer drops of several feet? There may have been more than one species, because it was only the little ones that nibbled at you. That’s right, it was Mother Nature’s fish spa! It tickled when they nibbled at your feet, but made me uncomfortable when there would be too many of them going at your arms and legs. As long as I kept moving, though, I was fine. I also noticed that several of the bigger trees had fabric tied around them. I’d seen this before, but these had additional offerings including whole sets of traditional clothing! The guide explained to me that they believed those older trees had angels inside which people would pray to when they asked for things. If their prayer was answered, they’d return with a gift to thank her. Kinda cute, though initially perplexing. In general, I’m finding my never-ending questions test the extremes of my guides’ language skills, so I’m never sure if I’m getting the complete answer since some things are just too hard to explain. I should probably also give props to the intern guide. It was her first time visiting this park, too, and it was her lot to accompany me as far as I wanted to go, despite the outfit and shoes she wore. I almost felt bad wanting to go all the way to the top, but she seemed happy once we made it up there and it was worth the extra climb for the beauty of that waterfall. Plus, the force of that water made for an excellent water massage to accompany the fish spa. On the way back I stopped at several pools for a quick dip, pausing longest at waterfall 4. This one had a vine swing and giant boulders you could slide down. I was so careful during the hike itself that I’m embarrassed to say it was only when I got careless that I slipped on a rock in the pool on my way to climb up the boulder. Let’s just say the bruise on my bum is a colorful, natural, Thai tattoo that will hopefully disappear soon.
(that's me sliding down a boulder)

My only frustration was learning there were cool caves in the Park that I couldn’t visit due to time constraints. Next time…

After lunch, we drove to a spot where we could catch the train and along the way we saw monkeys by the road that some tourists had stopped to feed. I’m sad to say these were the only ones I saw. The park had warned us about aggressive monkeys, but not one turned up. Elephants, gibbons…the forests were pretty empty compared to their potential. Besides the fish I did manage to see some gorgeous butterflies, though. When we arrived at the spot, we did visit a cave but it was for cultural rather the geologic significance. This cave was used as a POW camp, and after the war the locals had placed a statue of the Buddha inside of it. I should be ashamed of myself, but all I could think was how disappointed I was they’d broken all the stalactites. Again, I walked on the rickety wooden boards along the track while waiting for the train. At this spot they had to carve into the cliff and build bridges as it followed the river, and it was easy to take it for granted if you forgot they had no special equipment to work with. BTW, the Death Railway is only a remnant of its former self and they’re using a different gauge than the original one. Part of the track was flooded when a dam was built, and the portion closest to Burma was torn up to prevent separatist rebels from using is. At last, the train came. Again, if you forgot its tragic history is was actually a rather pleasant ride, sitting in an old car—or in my case, by the open door so I could get a better view. More karst topography in the distance, and up close were fields of various crops. BTW, the tapioca leaf bears an uncanny resemblance to marijuana, which must disappoint some backpackers. We didn’t even ride the train all the way to the bridge (I’m not sure who does), so we had to drive there in our minivan and walk across it once again.

By this point I’d had my fill of Kanchanaburi, so it was easy to bid farewell and take the next bus to Bangkok. By now the bus system was starting to feel familiar (I’m not sure if it will ever make sense) and I enjoyed watching the scenery as we drove back. I even started to play a game of timing how long we went between seeing larger-than-life pictures of the king or queen. In case you were wondering, it was about 4 seconds for the shortest and 5 minutes for the longest, but I should point out that area was fairly rural so I didn’t see much of anything in the dark.

Once in Bangkok, I was again surprised at how long it took to get across town to the hostel. Why I’m so accepting of that reality in other places, but demand that Bangkok be smaller, I can’t say. All I know is that when I got there it was late but I was still sore from my fall and hungry so I set out in search of relief. I erred on the side of massage and was happy I did, even happier that a friend suggested a place that was close by and not sketchy. Learning from the past, I was a bit more vocal this time to prevent her from going too hard on me and very vocal to make sure she didn’t stand on my bruises—though she tended to forget both occasionally. It was longer than I’d expected, so dinner that night consisted of bananas and chocolate Pokki from 7-11 before calling it a night. I'll pass through Bangkok 2 more times on this trip, and promise to actually stop and see a tourist site before I leave.

(BTW, the river is pronounced like "Kway", not "Kwhy", which apparently means water buffalo.)

Charmed by Chiang Mai (part 2)

Friends spoke highly of Chiang Mai, and I took their suggestions…all of them. There appears to be something here for everyone, and I think the only touristy things I resisted in this town were the firing range and the golf course. Here are my highlights:

Thai cooking class:
I cooked and ate my way through a private 5-course feast of my choice my first night in town. We started with a visit to a local market where she explained the staple ingredients and showed what they looked like, as well as the different types of rice. Back at the school, I learned how to make spring rolls, coconut chicken soup, green curry, Pad Thai, and a tropical fruit pancake for dessert. The crazy thing was how easy they were to prepare, once she demonstrated. I didn’t get a proper lunch that day so it was a fantastic end to the day, and armed with a cookbook from the school I look forward to attempting them back home.

Attempting to sing hymns in Thai:
I was lucky that the chapel was in walking distance of my hotel, but even luckier that I’d printed off a map of its location before I left.

The branch met in Thai, but I had translators throughout and in RS they gave me a book with the hymns “romanized” (Thai words but with characters I could read). I’m sure my pronunciation was way off, but it was still fun to try. On a “small world” note, both the branch president and the sister who translated for me served in the DC-North mission! The sister, Charee, kindly invited me over for Sunday dinner with her and her mom before helping me navigate Chiang Mai’s popular Sunday market.

Bike riding
I love bicycle rides and it was the perfect way to get around Chiang Mai to see the festival. Starting off in the Old City, I pedaled where traffic was light and kept telling myself to stay on the left. Left-hand turns? No problem! Right-hand turns…got my heart rate up a little as motorbikes and tuk-tuks whizzed around me while changing lanes. As long as I steadily moved I was OK, but it was still counter-intuitive and a little scary when you go so slowly. I decided to bike up to their university, but somehow missed it. Next thing I knew, I was on “Superhighway 11”, a major road with no place to turn around. Finally, I saw a place to turn left, and ended up at a forest Wat where I was able to collect myself amidst the ancient spires and serenity of the grounds before hitting the road again. I also had the delight of flying a kite with one of the monks who invited me to help him. Biking that night was a little more stressful as we seemed to add an extra lane to the road in some areas, but it was still a fun adventure. I’ve also decided that they wear facemasks here more for diesel fumes than swine flu.

My time in prison
OK, so it was across the street, but they have a minimum-security area with rehabilitation training for female inmates about to be released and one of the skills they teach is Thai massage. You change into loose pants that wrap around and tie like an apron and a blouse before lying down on a cushion. This was my first experience with this type of massage, which felt a little like a one-sided wrestling match at times. I’m pretty sure Devan used some of those techniques on me growing up, but it was hard to tell. It’s a little too intense for me, but the bruises on my legs are mostly gone.

Trying the street food
The food all looks good and smells even better, so after a couple of nights I started to test the waters. Raw produce was off limits, but somehow fried and steamed dishes felt safe—and they were, not to mention fantastic!
One of my favorites looked like a sausage, but was filled with fried rice and pork. Another delight was Roti, a super-thin crepe they’d fill with toppings like bananas and sweetened condensed milk or sweet corn. I opted not to try the fried insects, though.

Playing a Thai Huck Finn
After the festival, I went on a one-day “trek” that was a little bit of everything. We started with an elephant ride where towards the end they let me sit on the neck (their hairs are stiff and poky!). After that, we hiked through a rice paddy to a waterfall. They saved the best for last, though, when we floated down a small river on bamboo rafts. We were allowed to stand, and it was fun balancing on the bamboo poles and watching the scenery go by. The river was quite calm, so our group made it a bit more interesting by keeping our 2 rafts close. Our guides were mischievous, and started the water fights that quickly escalated to tipping the rafts over. The water was only waist-deep so it was easy to climb back on and resume playing. Towards the end, the water was deeper and surrounded by rocks so we stopped for a bit to jump off them into the water before we had to disembark.

Flight of the Gibbon
The moment I saw this in my guidebook, I knew I had to do it because it was the perfect combination of adventure and treehugging nature experience. What was it? A zip line canopy tour! The guide explained that the valley’s residents weren’t tribal, but immigrants who’d come to farm coffee and tea. The company bought the land to protect the forest and improve the livelihood of the residents, and had a few billboards throughout to educate visitors on the importance of protecting the forest. Wish that meant I could count it as work! Our group was surprisingly American with a few Aussies and Brits added to the mix, and we quickly bonded as a group. I was a little scared at first, but quickly got into it and felt totally safe. We flew above, and in some cases in between the trees, resting on platforms high up in ancient trees. Example: our final platform was 45 meters off the ground in an 800-year old banyan tree. We abseiled down from that one, which is when it started to sink in just how high up we’d been. You started to loose that perspective because the canopy obscured the ground, and it was only when you stood still long enough and the wind blew that the trees started to sway. It was such a rush and in such a beautiful place that I think it’s reason enough for forest conservation. Now if we could only figure out how to make that a regular mode of transportation…


TCC
Or at least that’s what I call it, since it reminded me of a Thai version of the PCC (Polynesian Cultural Center). I knew it was unfeasible to have an authentic experience with the hill tribes while staying in the city, but I wanted to see some folk dancing while here and this didn’t disappoint. We began seated on the floor and were treated to a Thai fest and musical performance. After dinner, we reclined on pillows to digest and watched Lanna dancing that looked like something straight out of “The King and I”.
When it came time for audience participation, I was probably the only one who volunteered themself and had fun trying to pick up some new moves. For the second half, they transferred us to a rustic amphitheater where they showcased as many tribes as they could squeeze into a brief time period—many dances lasted about a minute, but they also looked very similar so it was more about displaying their fashions. And like the PCC, the climatic dances involved knives. The Lanna portion had a guy dance with 12 knives that he crossed over each other to pick them all up. The tribal knife dance involved flaming swords, culminating in him standing on one leg with flaming knives in each hand, behind his elevated knee, and being held in his mouth. This was an excellent way to cap off my stay in Chiang Mai.

Relaxing in my hotel room
With all that running around and so many fun things to do, I still genuinely loved chilling in my hotel room. A friend suggested a mid-range boutique hotel that overlooked the northern moat and a Wat and I’m so glad she did. It was more expensive than the youth hostels I usually frequent and I’d planned to downgrade after the first few nights, but it turns out I’m a sucker for a waffle-weave robe and slippers. Plus, they were indispensable when it came to booking all my activities and were so eager to help in numerous small ways.

So there you have it. I’m a little heavier from all the food and my wallet is considerably lighter, but it was worth every Baht!