From Khao San to Pham Ngu Lao

Humanity rides into the prism of this world, and emerges in such brilliance of shades each as beautiful as the next. Yet despite the distinct, beautiful shades, they're all still the same light as before. I entered Bangkok in one stream of hope and optimism, and came out of Ho Chi Minh City with a brilliance of memories, knowledge, respect and understanding. Each individual aspect are just as important as the next.

Time to dance nekkid!

If I had visited Phuket, Pattaya or one of the many islands off the Thai coast, that might have been something at least heard of, if not seen. Of course, the nekkid dancing isn't exactly legal so discretion would have to be in place, which would've removed any interesting aspects nekkid dancing had to begin with.

But I didn't visit Phuket or the islands because Thailand is more then beaches (and because they were out of the way). I met many tourists, all nice people for the record, who either wanted to visit, or already visited Thailand strictly for the full-moon parties on Ko Pha Ngan or the prestine beaches. One fellow American pair were planning to spend a whole two days in Cambodia to simply make it to a full-moon party. I guess I can't judge, to each his own. But to spend a mere two days in a nation that has a lot to offer historically and culturally? You're right, to each his own. Cambodia doesn't need that kind of tourist anyway.

I've never been a drinker or a dead sexy party animal who streaks, so anyone only expecting rad stories about getting shit-faced on a Thai beach or waking up next to a Vietnamese hooker in the slums of Saigon after a night of decadence should probably hit backspace.

My stories are not ones many would consider, well, interesting, because many don't involve a protagonist, antagonist, a hooker, a bar fight and climax. Many are anecdotal at best, but I'm okay with that. My experiences are my own to share information of a different and fascinating world only separated from us by an ocean.

For those who care, buckle up because it's a long read.

The financial, chaotic, decadent and polticial heart of Thailand is Bangkok, where practically anything goes outside of murder and criticizing the King. Khao San Rd, the base for many backpackers and flashpackers, bleeds bars, street vendors, internet cafes, shops and guesthouses with such ferocity it makes Kirstie Alley's eating habis seem like slow, bird-like nibbles. This radiates out into the surrounding neighborhood of Banglamphu, and it's where I earned my right of passage for backpacking Southeast Asia. I became a man, a backpacking man.

It was in Bangkok I tried my luck at riding public bus transportation like the locals. I enjoyed the rough, open-windowed rides, but most of all, it was the thrill of having to jump on a moving bus to get on that was the best. Of course, much like many cities, Bangkok bus routes aren't exactly reliable even with two dead sexy bus route maps that I bought for 60 baht each. This leads to loads of fun getting lost unless you happen to be nauseated and on the verge of vomiting all while trying to find a major bus station hiding behind a large outdoor market.

But it was also in Bangkok where the foundations of developing the confidence to travel alone was laid. Budget accommodation, eating from mainly street vendors and outdoor cafes, getting around on local transportation, navigating to the major sights and getting from one city to another were all tests that were passed in, most cases, with flying colors. And it was also here where the interaction with the locals and fellow travelers alike, as well as falling victim to various scams, led to a greater understanding of the world we live in, as well as what to expect throughout the trip. Finally, it was in Bangkok where I learned budgeting isn't easy and that I need more discipline to effectively do it, which as I would discover late, is a lesson I still didn't, and haven't, learned.

And of course, we can't forget that case of the barfs I received as a going-away gift from the chicken I ate in Ayuthaya. And the 10-mile death march through Ayuthaya that was still amazing anyway. Why was it amazing? Because I saw local Ayuthaya. Sure, a woman told me to get lost after her children came running up to me and I said hi, but still, how many tourists see a place for what it is? And not only Ayuthaya, but Bangkok as well. The most successful aspect of the Thailand leg was the exploration on foot. I may not have seen everything I wanted to in Bangkok and Ayuthaya (and I even missed big things like the Reclining Buddha at Wat Pho) but I walked through areas few tourists would even dare do so. Not that they were dangerous (in the day anyway) but because they aren't touristy. To walk down an alley where locals work and live, to ride the local transportation, to try and do what the locals do, that's traveling. It's raw, and it's real. And finally, I learned that's the difference between a tourist and traveler.

I haven't even gotten to Cambodia by this point!

Cambodia was the biggest challenge because it's a walking contradiction. The differences in the ideas of rich and poor were most apparent, and the most difficult, to deal with. As a Westerner, you are seen as rich regardless of your budget. This is also true in both Thailand and Vietnam but it hits hardest in Cambodia. While income wise this is generally true, it doesn't mean that a Westerner is rich in the objective sense. Many aren't. To be seen as a Bank of America in the eyes of the population proved to be an exceptionally frustrating experience at times, because you know you simply can't give a dollar to every beggar regardless of their misfortunes, and because giving out a dollar or two to each person begging can make a big difference when you're trying to live on $20 a day. This frustration is augmented by the fact that many times only Westerners are approached for a hand-out despite a local who may be dressed nicer and carrying expensive camera equipment passed by just a second before you.

I can sense the David-you-fucking-cheap-and-cold-bastard stares at the screen, but don't judge me just yet....

One of the big highlights of my trip involved hearing a beautiful set of traditional Khmer music over an exotic dinner of snake and kangaroo dinner in Siem Reap (I can sense those stares and judging thoughts getting more extreme - for the record it was a lot cheaper than one maybe assuming). I looked over across the street and saw a band playing. This wasn't just any band. It was a band of landmine victims who bound together and were playing this beautiful music for all of Pub Street to hear and enjoy. A second band of the same nature at the base of Phnom Bakheng summed it up best:

In a written statement, they declared they would not resort to begging despite their misforutnes, that they had more dignity and wanted to use their gifts for the world, and that any donations were greatly appreciated. I supported both of the groups, because I was deeply touched by their music talent, their positive attitude and their determination. That was simply an amazing moment, one that truly symbolized the determination embodied in the Khmer people, more so than the new skyrises, renovation of the riverfront and slick malls in Phnom Penh.

And for the icing on the cake, I didn't act like a grinch to every single person who begged. I did give a little to quite a few people, especially ones who were badly maimed from landmine or UXO-related accidents. The amounts were in small denominations of course.

But simply grasping the contradiction that defines modern Cambodia was a challenge that could have only been understood by visiting. Every guidebook in the world can tell you about the poverty in Cambodia and the numerous beggars but the difference in the definitions of rich and poor can only truly be understood by first-hand experience. Rich and poor are seen in very black-and-white terms often laced with stereotypes. You can't completely ignore the problem and be cold, but you can't give away every dollar you have either.

What does a traveler do? The opposite of a tourist.

But seriously, there is no trick or secret to effectively dealing with it. You are only one person. All one can do is use their best judgment and make the call based on their own moral code. Despite the fact you're better off then much of the native population, you still need to consider your means of survival as well. What good are you to someone when you don't have the means to support yourself? One great option is to dine or drink at establishments where proceeds go to non-profit organizations designated to help the less fortunate. Both Siem Reap and Phnom Penh host a handful of these places, and some guidebooks (Lonely Planet's "Southeast Asia on a Shoestring" and "Cambodia" are examples) will have some of these places listed. Volunteering is another option to give back to the community.

Now I'm starting to sound like a guidebook.

But with the challenge of juggling rich vs. poor came the reward of being immersed in a nation in which its contradictions are so vividly portrayed in a yin-yang balancing act that can be seen in every corner. Street markets vs. Sorya Shopping Center. Angkor vs. Phnom Penh. The serene beaches of Sihanoukville and Kampot vs. Battambang, Preah Vihear and other heavily-mined provinces. Fish massages vs. the rough-and-tough 2-hr. Khmer massages (that ended in pillow fights and wrestling matches).

The best of both worlds manifested in the Vietnam leg with the lessons from the good and bad put to the final exam in Ho Chi Minh City. I explored the surrounding area more so then in Bangkok while still allowing enough time to taste the sweet and sour taste of HCMC chaos. My budget, though not as disciplined as Bangkok, was more focused than Cambodia. I didn't go down nearly as many of the alleys as in Bangkok but I went outside the tourist areas more so than in Phnom Penh. Pham Ngu Lao exhibitied more life and tourists then the party zones of Phnom Penh but paled compared to Khao San Rd. Essentially, the Vietnamese leg was the pendulum returning to equilibrium, a concoction of the extremes exhibited in both Thailand and Cambodia brought down to a compromised mix of sheer madness and tranquility with a bunch of motorbikes thrown in for good measure.

Prior to this trip, I've never been to a city where traffic and a dangerous quantity of powerlines created such dynamic and interesting snapshots. But that's two of the many ways Ho Chi Minh City stands out. There's nothing quite like seeing thousands and thousands of motorbikes creating traffic jams that would make Los Angeles blush and Bangkok wishing it dealt with more motorbikes then cars and taxis. It's more then possible to create fascinating photo albums of either of those aspects alone. But ducking under said powerlines and meandering your way through a mass of hundreds of motorbikes without so much as getting clipped by a single one are experiences of a lifetime. I'm unashmed to admit that in one instance, a kind 70-year-old man walked me across a busy street, with cars grudgingly slowing down and motorbikes whipping around us in all four directions.

Ironically, the closest I came to being hit by a moving vehicle (and considering motorbikes were constantly dodging me by mere inches, this was close) was a bicycle on a quiet side street. Go figure.

I expanded on what I thought about the Mekong Delta in the previous post so I won't go too much into it here, but it was still quite the experience, especially helping to paddle a small, four-person canoe through one of the Mekong's small marshy tributaries. To me, that holds more water then any photo because I was involved. One fellow traveler was complaining he had to help row his little canoe, and in my head I'm like "dude, you got to do something most of this group didn't. What the hell are you complaining about?"

For the record, this was one of the same guys who was spending two measly days in Cambodia to make it to a full moon party in Thailand. Have fun not remembering the party.

It's amazing to me how easy it is to get in and out of socialist nations yet getting back into your own nation can be a painstaking process. With my $76 visa in hand, getting into Vietnam was a simple stamp in the passport, run my backpack through an x-ray and give my arrival card to immigration. Boom, I'm in. Getting out was just as simple. And yet, coming back to the good old United States of America, the land of the free, I get detained in Houston for three hours in customs.

Three hours of searching my pack, going through every single photo I took on the trip several times (we're talking about 1600 pictures here), checking blank CDs and my flash drive I brought for back-up storage of photos if needed, checking all of my texts, call history, photos and even the battery on my Blackberry, going through all of my budget records, receipts, back-up copies of traveler's checks, passport and traveler's insurance information, flipping through every page of my guidebooks, unrolling every artricle of clothing, checking every pocket, and checking my flight itinerary several times and asking to see the credit card I used to pay for the flight.

He first asked if I knew why I was brought in and I said honestly no. He said it was random.

Oh and then the questioning. Which countries did you visit? How long where you in each country? Why did you visit? What exactly did you do in those countries? Did you travel alone? Why did you travel alone? Do you have any friends in those countries? How did you hear about these countries (yes, this was actually a question asked.)? How much foreign currency do you have? How much does said currency equal in U.S. dollars? Sir, how much do you THINK said currency equals in U.S. dollars? How much money did you take with you? How did you pay for things? How did you pay for your flight? Do you have the credit card used to pay for your flight? Can we see the credit card? How much was your flight? What is your job? What was your former job? Where do you live? Who do you live with? What are these (after taking out some earplugs; again, this was actually a question asked)? Where's your checked bag? Why don't you have one? Do you have a laptop? Why didn't you bring it with you?

Not only were most of these questions asked at least three times, one of the officers said how weird it was for someone to spend three weeks in Southeast Asia alone. I told him it was actually quite common and I met plenty of travelers, some American, who were there for three months, and he said that's even weirder. He goes on to say pretty much how most people only travel after retirement, essentially implying why I truly was brought in for further inspection and implying their suspicions of me being involved in communist activities overseas.

The second time he asked and I answered, he said it was because I had traveled to "suspicious nations". Fucking morons. Traveling alone, length of trips and destinations "out of the norm" are no grounds for suspicion, much less detention. It's not like I was in Iran, North Korea, Myanmar, or spent months in Pakistan or Afghanistan. Tomorrow, I will file a blistering complaint to the CBP.

After an hour and a half, they said I was clear to go only to bring me back a minute later to again check my electronics, saying they now had a computer to check my stuff and a person who could do it (mind you, my cameras and flash drive utilize card readers and USB....it seriously took them an hour and a half to get a computer with USB and a card reader? Are you kidding me!?) and forcing me to stay put yet another hour and a half, thus resulting in missing my connecting flight to San Antonio.

The land of the free indeed. I, a proud and patriotic American, so blessed to be an American and to hold an American passport, come home to my country and they treat me like a criminal because I chose to travel to countries that we have full diplomatic relations with. Thank you, Department of Homeland Insecurity. I'm sure W is proud of his offspring. You'd almost think our government secretly doesn't want anyone to travel. Heaven forbid some people are actually curious about a world outside of the good ol' U.S. of A.

But I must give mad props to Contintental Airlines for going out of their way to assist me, book me on a later flight at no extra charge and even got me to the front of a looooooooong line for security. I will definitely make the effort to fly with them in the future.

And finally, what everyone has been asking for....

HIGHLIGHTS
(The good, the bad, the weird, the disturbing, anything that stood out)

These are not in any order. There are a bunch.

• The bright lights, loud music and aromas of many street vendors on Khao San Road in Bangkok
• An old man first offering a peep show of beautiful women, then wanting me to go back to a hotel with him, telling me I was special on Khao San Rd. It's important to note this happened about an hour after I landed in Bangkok.
• 7-11s overunning Bangkok like Starbucks here in the U.S.
• Staying in a guesthouse situated directly on top of a reggae bar that played nothing but Bob Marley songs. I heard his greatest hits probably about 10 times my entire stay.
• Getting food poisoning from a piece of chicken in Ayuthaya
• The Ayuthaya "death march" - 10 miles there, 5 in Bangkok partially due to missing my bus stop coming back.
• Walking practically everywhere in Bangkok and Ho Chi Minh City and seeing normal life in both cities outside of the tourist enclaves.
• Sharing a conversation with a Brazilian traveler on board a crammed Bangkok bus, stopped in rush hour traffic.
• The claustrophobic Cu Chi Tunnels and shooting an AK-47 in Vietnam.
• Helping to paddle a small boat along a tributary of the Mekong.
• Seeing Angkor Wat twice.
• 20-minute fish massage in Siem Reap, where at first I was laughing so loud from the tickelish feeling practically all of Siem Reap could hear me.
• The 2-hr Khmer-style massage, full of flirting with our masseuses, eventually turning into a giant pillow fight and wrestling match. My masseuse offered me a "happy ending" but I politely declined her request.
• That amazing, fresh sushi I had at Narita airport...my God that was heavenly.
• Sharing conversations with Vietnamese locals involved in the American War, and telling them of my father's time in Thailand during the war.
• The customs fiasco in Houston as mentioned above.
  
• Eating python and kangaroo at Cambodian BBQ in Siem Reap.
• The two Siem Reap traditional Khmer bands consisting of victims of landmines.
• Crossing the streets in Ho Chi Minh City, praying I wasn't going to die. An old 70-year-old man helped me across, as did a aggressive and persistent cyclo driver.
• Sunset on top of Phnom Bakheng, and seeing Angkor Wat and a beautiful lake in the background.
• My tuk-tuk/moto driver, Bruce, in Siem Reap.
• Every other tuk-tuk/moto driver obsessed with getting lady boom boom and extending offers for me to join them.
• My tuk-tuk driver in Phnom Penh, after taking me to Tuol Sleng and the Killing Fields, wanting me to go with him to get lady boom boom and the expression of his face when I politely declined his offer.
• A little vendor girl at Banteay Kdei who not only knew what the capital of the U.S. was, but also knew the capital of Texas.
• Almost falling backwards on the steep stairs leading up Wat Arun trying to hand a fellow Indian traveler his camera.
• Riding the skytrain in Bangkok.
• Jumping onto moving buses in Bangkok.
• Dancing the night away in Siem Reap with two girls all over me. They unfortunately were both prostitutes and were only looking for some moolah.
• Seeing other Westerners getting mobbed by vendors at Ta Prohm and laughing at them, but then getting mobbed myself when I got up out of my chair.
• Visiting the sobering Tuol Sleng and Killing Fields in Phnom Penh.
• Getting an unwanted shoeshine in a Ho Chi Minh City park which set me back 150,000 dong (about $7).
• My moto driver, Nang, in Ho Chi Minh City, whose father was the mayor of Danang when the South Vietnamese government was in power.
• Eating delicious clams with fellow travelers from Singapore and France at Ben Thanh market in Ho Chi Minh City, where the power went out and people started screaming and freaking out (and I laughed at them).
• Ban Chiang Restaurant in Bangkok, where I had this amazing Isan-style spicy apple salad.
• The various markets throughout the region that I visited, such as the Psar O Russei (Russian Market) in Phnom Penh and the center of Chinatown in Ho Chi Minh City.
• Accidently wandering into a Buddhist monk's living quarters at Wat Mahathat in Bangkok.
• Loi Krathong festival in Bangkok, where I chatted with a nice local and had some delicious noodles.
• The extremely sweet family and their guesthouse I stayed at in Ho Chi Minh City - $10 a night with hot water, cable and A/C plus free internet on their family computer.
• The heavenly fruit shakes at Highland Coffee in Ho Chi Minh City.
• The delicious elephant fish and tropical fruit in the Mekong Delta.
• Eating pho in Can Tho with a fellow German traveler, and having a tailor help us order.
• Simply cruising the Mekong and its tributaries by boat.
• Not getting robbed at all during the trip.
• Sharing a bus with snobbish karaoke-loving adolescents on the way to Phnom Penh.
• What ruins I saw in Ayuthaya.
• Chatting with a politically-aware Thai of Chinese descent on the train back to Bangkok from Ayuthaya. He also thought French tourists were the worst, which, though funny, based on my experiences thus far isn't necessarily true.
• Watching two Khmers duking it out on Pub Street in Siem Reap and no one doing anything about it.
• Relaxing in riverside cafes in Phnom Penh and Ho Chi Minh City.
• Ta Phrom and Preah Khan temples in Angkor
• Bayon and its many faces in Angkor - very Orwellian and amazing.
• The 3 am cab ride to Mo Chit bus station in Bangkok - my cabbie was insane and nearly ran a tuk-tuk and cyclist off the road.
• Wat Pho, Wat Arun and simply wat-hopping in Bangkok.
• Reunification Palace in Ho Chi Minh City.
• Taking a moto ride through Ho Chi Minh City.
• Chatting with a man from West Africa and a Sri Lankan business man in Bangkok.
• Not dying nor getting roughed up when I accidentally knocked a beer from a local's hand on Khao San Rd.
• Riding a tuk-tuk through a torrential downpour in Phnom Penh.
• A local smiling and waving to tourists as he bathed in the moat surrounding central Ayuthaya.
  
• And finally, despite only touching the tip of the iceberg in all three nations, having the privilege to visit and learn from what I did see and experience and to, once again, confirm my passion for traveling and building excitement for my next journey through Southeast Asia, and no paranoid customs official is gonna stop me.
  

Despite a few rough patches, it was a very successful trip overall. I know what I did right and what I need to improve for the next big trip. It was a test to see if I could handle indepenedent travel, and I know I passed with flying colors. I'm eager for my next trip, and hopefully someone can join me for at least part of it!! This blog will remain open, so for those who have been following it, there's no need to go anywhere. Thanks again for everyone who responded and read this blog, and thanks to everyone who took the time to look at my pictures on Facebook.

The next trip isn't as far off as one may think. Let the good times keep rolling!!

These Last Few Moments....

Unfortunately, the saddest part of the trip is the fact it's soon ending. Tomorrow evening, 11:45 PM (local time), I board my first of two flights back home. I have a ten and a half hour layover in Tokyo but due to my forgetting the definition of "budget travel" this trip, it won't be possible to go into the city itself. I should, however, be able to visit the town of Narita (for which Tokyo's International Airport is named) which should be a treat nonetheless.

And today, I'm simply taking it easy and relaxing, listening to Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon) roar by in it's miillions of forms, many of them motorcycles. And tomorrow, my final hurrah here in HCMC starting with a thrilling ride to Chinatown via moto and then simply walking, walking, eating and more walking. I want to see that little-sought side of HCMC much as I saw in Bangkok.

There is a magical charm about this part of the world that works on visitors if they allow it. I've met many great fellow travelers here in Vietnam alone, but some let little things like getting ripped off tarnish their experience here. Let's face it, there are far worse things that can truly ruin vacations and traveling then being ripped off a few times.

It's happened to me in all three countries and ultimately I simply learn why it happened and what to do for next time. Instead of letting the frustrating moments dominate my experience, I'll fill my tales with the good and influence my opinion in the same way. There is no such thing as the perfect destination, or one where a highly romanticized viewpoint is the reality. Travel brochures and tour operators will always focus on the beautiful and best aspects of a destination to sell it to customers, but it's up to the individual to be prepared for the reality.

So what is the scoop on southern Vietnam? Gorgeous. The Mekong Delta has such a serene atmosphere you simply want to quietly paddle your small boat through it's tributaries and watch as the world slowly rows by. Sit at a small streetside cafe eating pho with a fellow traveler from Germany in Can Tho, with a local helping you order and acting as a de facto translator. Or watch as the locals prepare a delicious coconut candy from scratch and allow the sweet taste to permeate every taste bud from here to Hanoi. It's such a contrast to the madness of Saigon yet they compliment one another so well. Two very different sides of Vietnam, within a short distance of one another, and definitely a great introduction to a dynamic nation.

It's a shame I won't be able to go north this time around, but I won't count what I missed, and instead will cherish what I saw. There's plenty of reason to visit all three nations a second third and fourth times, and many after that. It's worlds apart from the West yet many of the people here welcome us with open arms. The past, though never to be forgotten, doesn't define us today.

My final blog about this trip will be when I return home. I'll list the highlights and what I learned about this region of the world, as well as myself. I'm thinking, thinking of the U.S.A. and will see everyone one long-ass flight and a few short days later!

Guns Are Cool, Mkay?

Mmmm...nothing like eating a chimichanga while the Discover Channel is blaring talking about some guy's guts spilling out of his stomach due to an elephant attack.

And there's also nothing like shooting an AK-47 with a Vietnamese soldier guiding you and laughing with you with every round fired and the gun jamming. That is definitely a highlight of the trip so far.

Oh, and we can't forget about being squeezed for 100 meters in the Cu Chi tunnels! Duck-walkin', crawlin' your way through hoping the person in front doesn't get too far ahead nor too far behind....there's only one safe way out of that tunnel. Too cool! It's easy to see how the Viet Cong were able to dish out so much frustration to the American military. The tunnels really are a marvel, not only serving as protection but as living quarters, strategy rooms, mess halls and storage spaces. Many tunnels and paths were booby-trapped and were too small for an American to fit through.

Luckily the one we went through was enlarged just enough for us Westerners to crawl through, although my broad shoulders threatened to lodge me between a couple of the walls.

Oh man, I don't know if I can squeeze out anymore interesting thoughts right now.....I guess such is life sometimes.

How is everyone liking the blog so far? Is there anything of the trip that anyone is really curious about that I haven't mentioned yet?

Ho Chi Minh, Won't You Be My Friend?

I can see Joseph McCarthy rising from the grave and red-baiting me for that title.

The Cambodian leg of my journey is drawing to the close, and tomorrow the third and final leg will begin.

Destination: Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam.

If I had a little extra time....say, that one day I had a case of the barfs (thanks a lot, tainted chicken), I would've instead cruised the Mekong itself and hung around the Mekong Delta for a few days. But alas, it wasn't mean to be and HCMC has tour operators which conduct tours to the Mekong Delta. So, all is not a complete loss.

I also wish the last leg was longer for two other important reasons: my Vietnamese visa was expensive (I should have gotten it here in Phnom Penh....) and there's so much to see there outside of HCMC and the Mekong Delta. But those two areas will serve as a great introduction, and the next time I come through I can add the rest of the country to my list (and Laos too!).

I think one of the most priceless experiences I've had so far was last night. My tuk-tuk driver who took me to Tuol Sleng (S-21 Prison) and the Killing Fields invited me out that night to get some "lady boom boom" with him. I automatically said no in my head but to be polite I told him we'll see. Later that night, he saw me downstairs here in the lobby on the internet (d'oh!!) and asked me again. With a sad face, I told him I was too tired and that I was planning to simply relax in my room, eat oreos and watch movies.

He had this sad, puppy dog look on his face, like he had been disowned. Think of those anti-pollution PSAs with the Native American looking out at the huge heap of trash, and a small, gentle tear rolls down his face. It was exactly like that, and I'm sure the small, gentle tear came after I went upstairs. The little tuk-tuk driver's new friend didn't want to get lady boom boom with him. Sad night.

Saigon tomorrow! I'll be sure to tell Adrian Cronauer hi for everyone. Maybe he'll let me say GOOOOOOD MOOOOORNING, VIETNAM!

To Hell and Back

It's hard to imagine a mere three decades ago, it was just beginning to regain its shattered population from Hell. Climbing from depths few have ever seen, the Khmers frantically search out loved ones to see if they survived, while their Vietnamese liberators continued pushing the Khmer Rogue further west. And in all the chaos, a lost capital city on its last breathe, moved one finger to show the world it was still alive, even if barely.

It dreamed about the days it was known as The Pearl of Asia, lined with beautiful French architecture, a booming heartbeat and satisfaction of recent independence. It didn't need its parent anymore. Freedom was so sweet, and at full throttle, it ran towards the future.

In the distance, the bombs began dropping, and the men began dying. Its neighbor was under full attack from the American war machine, and a deep unsettling feeling of inevitable war began shadowing this new found golden age.

The bombs became more frequent, the chattering guns louder and more frequent, and the shadows of war began slipping across the border. The shadows grew into a black hole, and the Pearl of Asia ran straight into the event horizon, with no chance of escape.

And the Khmer Rogue, with reluctant support from The Pearl's exiled king from his Chinese hosts, gained ground and ferocity. The tearing forces and chaotic screams and bleeding dreams and broken bones and rotting skies with searing pain all converged....

April 17, 1975....

....Year Zero begins.....

....If you spoke another language, if you were glasses, if you had any contact with a foreigner of any sorts, literate, if you were in anyway deemed educated, you were forced upon the end of a shovel, the blade of a knife, the shock of electricity. All for what!?!? To make some idiotic idea of an agrarian utopia!? Too many died....too many died that didn't deserve to.

The Pearl of Asia didn't just get poo flung at it by a passing group of monkeys. It was shat on, shat on from every direction in every dimension in the universe. It was crucified, left to die while its soul was torn apart by the millions. Decent into hell was in a blink of an eye, and the climb out would be an eternity.

...But the climb would someday begin and the bright future it once ran towards would be realized. It took nearly four horrific years, but the climb did begin with the Vietnamese undoing the nails and throwing down the ladder; the first steps were laid out. A finger moved, a pulse was found....yet so weak....so weakened, in tatters. And now a famine descends upon those first steps, and many more perish.

But with the sheer willpower to live, it continued to climb. And climb, and climb. It saw the opening up to a world it once knew, now drastically changed from its last visit. And eventually it saw the embodiment of hatred, the Khmer Rogue, demolished by years of petty fighting and mass desertions. Justice hasn't yet been served, but it continues to climb. And it continues to shine brighter. It isn't as shat-stained as it was, and it continues to look to the sun towards the brighter future it once ran to. Now, there's no bombs dropping on the horizon, no black holes forming underneath. Old French architecture shares the streets with glossy shops, malls and a population full of life. The heart is beating faster and the wounds are healing.

There's still a long ways to go, but it doesn't matter, because it's been to hell and back. And it ain't looking back. All it asks of us, the world, is to learn what happened, to support its continual rise, and most importantly, to never EVER forget.

Welcome to Phnom Penh, the former, and future, Pearl of Asia.

Is There More to Siem Reap Than Angkor?

Siem Reap, Cambodia - a once quaint town in the northwest realms which so happened to feature of the world's most impressive temples glows with a radiant beam of tourist dollars and optimism. So touristy, I've seen more Westerners and massage parlors than native Khmer in town. Luckily, I just so happen to be staying in a guesthouse off an unpaved, canyon-ridden road which does offer that slice of authentic urban Cambodia.

It is of the upmost importance that I mention isn't overran with 7-11s like Bangkok.

Some may call Siem Reap fake, but let's not judge it as such quite yet for one very imporant reason. Nearby Angkor, with its many temples, was once epicenter of one of Southeast Asia's greatest empires. It was Angkor and its temples that showed this might and beauty, and its the shell of Angkor that is now ferociously reviving Cambodia back to life, with Siem Reap designated as its base. Angkor represents the glorious past and optimistic feature with the Cambodian capital, Phnom Penh, filling in the blanks of darkness and grief.

And it was so, departing Bangkok at 4:30 am via bus to the border, seeing a beautiful Thai sunrise over the hills and fields, and arriving in the searing mid-afternoon heat at the border, before hitching a ride with two French tourists in a share-taxi to Siem Reap. I've stayed for a few days, and after my second visit to Angkor Wat at sunrise tomorrow, it'll be time to say goodbye, and to dive deep into Cambodia's tragic past in Phnom Penh.

So what's there to do besides leave Siem Reap for Angkor? Party wooooooooo! My choice sobriety prevents me to do a lot of that, but hey, when you're hanging out with two French dudes who'll drink your share with their's,massage sessions turning into massive pillow fights and local women all over you for vain reasons, it's all good. They have a street specifically for partying needs designated Pub Street. Pub Street...in Cambodia...not the "Holiday in Cambodia" the Dead Kennedys sang about nearly 30 years ago.

Okay, the alcohol can be resisted by some, but come on, pillow fights? That's reason enough to visit! Oh yes, and Angkor Wat and all of the other temples as well, which are simply breathtaking. There's so much to say but so little time and consciousness.

Phnom Penh tomorrow!

I Survived Food Poisoning in Southeast Asia and All I Got Was This Lousy Shirt

I wound up holding off my trip to Cambodia an extra day to allow more rest. I just wish I hadn't wasted 200 baht for the bus ticket yesterday. Such is life though.

But I'm happy to say the bout of food poisoning wasn't severe enough to go to the hospital. I had some pocky today and kept it down so. Thank you, pocky, and also thanks to Jesus and Bob Marley, for both helped soothe the agony of a stomach in dire straits. My room here in Khao San is located right above a reggae bar that plays nothing but Bob Marley, which made for an easier time sleeping than if I were above a karaoke bar (although I'm sure that would be an interesting experience in itself).

But as the Thailand leg of the journey winds down, I must say I did see a lot, although I feel I spent too much time in Bangkok. I should have gone to Kanchanaburi the third or so day I was here, or to Pattaya or some sort of a day trip in addition to Ayutthaya. I have no regrets in what I did see and experience though, and I can further learn about the places I did visit, and the culture that happily welcomed me with open arms.

It's amazing what you can learn the first eight days on the road, not just about the places you visit but about trip management, wise spending, navigation and even about yourself. I'll dive more into that after the trip has concluded.

I won't be able to stay in Cambodia as long as I wanted, but one of thing fore mentioned things learned about independent travel is to allow flexibility. It's also important to not regret what you missed, but to cherish what you saw and experienced, and the people who crossed your path along this journey we call life.

Next update from Cambodia. Until then!

How Does One Measure the Kindess of a Population?

When you take a picture of a revered figure, and a guard politely, and with a smile, tells you no pictures.

When you accidentally knock a beer out of a local's hand, and he not only doesn't destroy your soul, he smiles, shakes your hand and accepts your apology.

When one notices the lost expression on your face and graciously points you the right direction.

Not most Bangkok tuk-tuk drivers.

So my current bout of food poisoning not withstanding, I'll be on a bus tomorrow morning at 6 a.m. for the Cambodian border. With lots of luck, I won't be vomiting and will arrive in Siem Reap around 2 - 3 local time.

In addition to the vomiting, I wasted an afternoon meant for relaxing trying to find the bus station needed to buy my ticket. I forgot to take my city and bus maps with me, wound up buying a second bus map to try and get back to Khao San, and out of frustration and nausea, wound up taking a taxi back to Khao San anyway. The vomiting thing waited until I was in my room, which is good, but it would've made a funny story down the road. Although based on how I'm feeling now, round 2 may not be far away and I'm downstairs so we'll see what kind of trouble I can summon.

But such is life. You live, get ripped off by a tuk-tuk driver your first full day, meet plenty of great people, local and fellow traveler alike, see great sights, break your budget every day whether or not you intended to, make both good and very bad decisions, vomiting, enjoying great local cuisine, having another twenty minutes before vomiting again if you're lucky....good times.

Wish my stomach and I a safe and happy journey tomorrow.

The Inner Nation

It's Loi Krathong time in Thailand. Let the great food, flashy boats, midnight traffic jams, and children throwing fireworks into busy streets commence!

This trip marked the second time I've ever used a public bus system (first time was in Austin, the same night a certain dorkfish got my car towed....). It's also quite fun to jump on the bus as it's driving away. The open air, the sounds of the wind, smell of car exhaust and sights of a thriving city all whiz pass while you anxiously hope you don't miss your stop, nor get run over by a renegade moto getting off the bus. Oh, and we can't forget the midnight traffic jams either.

Conversations with a West African tourist who was denied a Vietnamese visa due to stricter regulations for those nationals, a Sri Lankan businessman simply enjoying the serene atmosphere of Lumpini Park, a friendly local who basically told me his life story last night at the Loi Krathong celebration by the river, a local teacher who pointed out to me an army of motorcycles was indiscriminately heading towards me and helped me get out of the street in time (that's about the twentieth time that's happened already) and of course the previous experiences I've mentioned, have all been highlights of the trip. They may seem trite, and I may not have many humorous stories thus far (except for the 60-year-old man on Khao San Rd who hit on me and said I was special or smelling like all-sorts of punk rock while visiting a few of the wats and the guide being okay with that), but the personal meaning behind them far outweighs what others may perceive them as.

The sights, the sights! Wats and monuments galore, and I nearly fell backwards off of Wat Arun trying to hand a fellow traveler from India his camera.

Luckily, I haven't been ripped off since Mr. 200-baht tuk tuk though!

I've taken a lot of pictures but haven't had the time to post them. Hopefully I can get the first batch up before I embark to Cambodia. And I will have my Vietnamese visa, 3 p.m. pronto. Stoked!

Until next time!