The Dichotomy of Cambodia, Part II: Stealing Our Hearts

Cambodia stole our hearts in two words: Angkor Wat. Wow! This temple is breathtaking. We awoke at 4:40am to visit this masterpiece built 1,000 years ago at sunrise (Photo Album).

We begged Yan, our trusty tuk tuk driver, to stop for coffee but he replied, "No time! After you see temple coffee ok!" The Japanese have invested quite a bit in Cambodian tourist attractions so we paid an astonishing $20 US for a day's pass to see the temples in the area. Crowds filed towards the entrance to enjoy the splendid view of the sun rising over Angkor Wat, the largest religious monument in the world. Andy and I cruised around to the west side away from the crowds and found a spot within the temple walls to ourselves. The day was quickly heating up. We giggled as we watched 11 monkeys rumble and tumble along the top of the wall, playing with one another in the early morning light. This place is massive!! The moat that surrounds the temple is so large it looks like a lake from the ground view. Check out the link above if you are interested in more of the history of this spectacular place.

After an hour or two of oohs and ahhs, we indulged in iced coffees and pancakes. For you coffee drinkers, the way they drink coffee in Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam is unique: instead of adding milk or sugar, they add sweetened condensed milk (yes, like the Carnation brand in the States) to very strong brew made with grounds so fine they simply settle on the bottom of the cup or glass. At first, the coffee was waaaay too sweet for us as we prefer our coffee simply with milk or cream but we got used to it and grew to love it! They don't understand "no sugar" here. But I digress.

Next, we headed north in the dense Cambodian jungle to Angkor Thom and the temple of Bayon with its 216 gargantuan faces of Avalokiteshara, the Buddha of Compassion, staring back at us. But Ta Prohm was my favorite (pictured right) with tentacle-like roots that strangle the temple walls. It's a poetic cycle: humans conquering nature to create, then nature once again conquering humans to destroy.

Very pushy children and beggars constantly approached us to buy bracelets or t-shirts or simply give them money. They grabbed onto or shirt sleeves and all but got in the tuk tuk with Yan and us as we politely said "no" and drove away. Again, the dicotomy of Cambodia unmasks itself between the rich splendor and glory of Cambodia's past and the current state of the needy. But this is how they live. It's the only way they know.

Musicans occassionally play on the temple grounds adding an extra aural experience in addition to the crickets and birds. By now, even before noon we were dripping with sweat that is quintessential to the SE Asian experience in the hot & muggy weather. By noon, we were templed out! Lunch and a nap were calling our names.

The town of Siam Reap is quite charming with its French colonial and Chinese style architecture. Restaurants and bars line the Old Market in the French Quarter. Haven't heard of it? You will. I have a feeling this place is going to blow up as a major tourist attraction in the coming years.

The cab ride from Siem Reap to the Thailand border was an experience I'll never forget. We decided against taking a 6 hour bus ride and instead chose the 3 hour cab option. The 200 km of road between is unpaved and in mid construction and has been for about 20 years. There is a rumor that a certain airline has been paying off a certain government body to not seal the road so travelers such as Andy and I are forced into uncomfort instead of taking the very expensive flight. Anyway, we get going in the cab and our driver has one hand on the steering wheel and the other blaring the horn or his cell phone. Cars, bikes and motorbikes are coming at us from every which way as our driver has lead in his foot, sharply navigating between oncoming and passing traffic. Meanwhile, the road is bumpy and dusty as hell as Andy and I grab on to our "oh shit handles" with white knuckles. Suprisingly, we have seatbelts. Unsuprisingly, there is nothing to latch them into. So with the trusty carabiner we link our male belt pieces together with a hope and a prayer. What I will never understand is this: we honk and blare and pass others at lightning speed, then the driver slowly pulls over to jump out and take a whizz, yes right on the side of the dirt road with a lit cigarette in his other hand.

Finally, we make it to the border and a very friendly gentleman greets us and offers us a nice minibus option to Bangkok from the border for just $9 per person. After getting our departure and arrival stamps, we "wait just 15 minutes while the bus gets an oil change." Fine, so we wait. 45 minutes later a bus finally shows and what do you know, another 2 people happen to show up for a ride to Bangkok as well. Oil change my arse. It's raining hard now. So we load into the minibus that holds 12 people but wait, there are 14 of us! No problem, Andy and Stace will sit in the back of the minibus with an extra double carseat from another van just plopped down on the floor in back. A hope and a prayer yet again...

This pretty much sums up my individual experiences in Asia. Leading up to the event, I am nervous about the unknown. At the beginning of it, I am scared sh*tless. But by the second hour, relaxation and surrender sets in. Conquering fears = Asia!

How am I driving? Call 800-DONT ASK!

First of all, I would like to thank the Toyota manufacturers of the world for installing those wonderfully underappreciated "Oh Shit" handles in their vehicles. You know, those little handles located just above the car doors that we often use for hanging our Sunday best on? And to those cars without them I chose not to acknowledge your oversight.

We have just concluded our 2 month visit to Asia and what a 61 days it was. So many adventures that pulled at our patience, tested our strength as a couple, yet somehow are the cause of the smile wrinkles on our cheeks. So many "oohs" & "ahhhs" that we have reported about so many times before. I'm sure we will remember tid bits of our visit to the Marble Mountains of Danang or the 3-day jungle trek in Thailand or even the miraculous Angkor Wat Temple in Cambodia. No doubt all memorable adventures. But no matter how mushy our brains become over the years, I doubt we will ever forget the terror that accompanied a Sunday drive in Asia.

In the United States, we have so many road rules to abide by. Stay in your lane, use your blinkers, do not cross a double yellow, pass on the left, RED means stop, GREEN means go and for heaven's sake, don't honk your horn at me or you may get the bird flying your way JERK! In Asia, the formula is to throw all of this out the window, close your eyes and accelerate! Whether driving a motorbike or as a passenger in any number of vehicles, the stress level on the roads was matched by nothing else we encountered - well, maybe bungy jumping.

Take these examples for instance:

*Buses - We often took buses from place to place. A cheap option and sometimes an overnight ride which accounted for our accomodation as well. I laugh at the name, "Sleeper Bus", because unless assisted by pharmaceudicals, sleep would be the last thing you would be doing. The drivers are eratic, simply trying to get from here to there as fast as they can, with all disregard for their passengers well being. I often sat up and laughed, "Stop swerving and honking at 70 km/hr! Its a Sleeper Bus dammit! I'm trying to S-L-E-E-P."

*Taxis - There were not many of these for us but one ride stands out. From Siem Reap, Cambodia to the eastern border of Thailand, we decided to go taxi instead of old bus (we were on our way to Bangkok). We had heard the road was crap and the bus ride was twice as long as a speedy taxi. Buses seemed to always have sketchy Air Con as well and Asia is not place to be caught without A/C. One ongoing problem: No seatbelts...ever. Often we had one side of the nylon belt but rarely both connections. On this particular adventure, after ducking and dodging people and motorbikes, charging down sudden detours and honking at EVERYTHING, our rising heart rates helped up with our ingenousness and creativitiy. We hooked our belts together with our trusty carabeaner. If we crashed now, at least we would be slammed together instead of flying through the windshield.

The honking is a phenomenon. The inventor of the car horn would be proud because nary a second passes without blasting it. Honk, Honk, hooonnnnkkkk! Its funny because as I mentioned, in the US its not accepted without a sense of disdain, but in Asia its more of a notification. As I'm flying up behind you I want to just let you know I'm coming. Motorbike, you better move to the side. Its understood as a form of road communication. The horn is critical to keeping the traffic flowing. Lanes are non-existent as any vehicle at any time may hog the entire road, swerve to left or slow down. There is no sense of pattern, just keep going, avoid the brakes until the last moment and hold on!!

In Asia, there are countdown clocks that tell you how much longer a light is Red or Green. Its actually a brilliant invention and yellow lights were non-existent. Unfortunately, what it does is cause hte throngs of motorbikes huddled at an intersection to not so slowly creap out...3...in the intersection...2...accelerating...1, already halfway!!

Despite the calouses on my hands because of the gripping of the Oh Shit handles, I must give credit where credit is due. We were often picked up early and delivered to our desired destination before expected. Punctuality at all costs!

I wonder when we return home, how many 'birds' fly my way as I try to communicate in my new road language. And why shouldn't I creap into the intersection while its still red? hmmm? I've got places to be.

The Dichotomy of Cambodia, Part I: Shattering our Souls

(Photo Album) Four days in the magical country of Cambodia both stole our hearts and shattered our souls. We crossed over the border from Vietnam in yet another bumpy bus to the capital city of Phnom Penh. The good, the bad and the ugly is the easiest way to describe the history of this tormented country, as evidenced in our hellish descent into Tuol Sleng.

In 1975, Pol Pot, the leader of the Khmer Rouge regime, turned this ordinary high school into Security Prison 21 (S-21), the largest center of detention and torture in the country. As Andy and I walked along the corridors, I couldn't help but imagine the scores of innocent men, women and children who were brutally tortured, raped and killed on these grounds. The checked floors and cream walls are awash with stains that I forced my mind to not visualize. Tears finally overflowed when I saw the thousands of black and white mugshots of the prisoners housed in cases with the reflection of the prison bars illuminated upon the glass. I wondered: if energy cannot be created or destroyed, does the energy from the thousands of prisoners remain within its walls today? Is that what I am feeling right now? It's a spooky thought to consider.


Next, our driver took us to the Killing Fields just outside Phnom Penh. Those who were not killed by torture at S-21 were later brutally executed at the Killing Fields of Choeung Ek by the devastating Khmer Rouge regime soldiers. As you might imagine it was an eerie experience for the two of us. This day was not for the weak hearted. Rising above the 120+ mass graves, we stood in front of a large stupa which serves as a memorial. Andy and I gaped at the 900 human skulls and clothes from the deceased which are housed inside. Meanwhile, I could hear joyful laughter from children at a nearby school. This is the conundrum of Cambodia. I wondered: are the children aware of these nearby atrocities? What demons must they face?


I instantly felt a warm compassion to the Cambodian people having had these experiences. I bought a krama and wore it every day thereafter in Cambodia. It's a checked scarf that many locals wear and is perfect for sun protection, dust protection, as a towel, as a bandage...anything. A sigh of relief washed over us as we drove away. This brutality could happen to any one of us.


It is no wonder the current government is corrupt. The Lonely Planet describes it aptly:

Democracy has been supplanted by kleptocracy, governance by theft and millions of dollars have been siphoned away in recent years...evictions and land grabs continue apace, with the rich getting richer and the poor getting screwed. Several communities have been kicked out of Phnom Penh and dumped unceremoniously in arid (or flooded) fields miles away from the city. Refugees within their own country, their fate remains uncertain...But despite this depressing diagnosis, life is improving for many Cambodians. The economy is booming thanks to tourism and investors. However, the progress is often despite the government and not because of it.

Coincedentally, the election is today. We'll see what happens.


We spent the rest of the evening exploring the city. It began to rain so we found shelter at the Lazy Gecko Cafe which happened to support a local orphanage. We discovered we could watch a movie of our choice in their movie room. And what do we pick out of 400 movies when all we've seen is crappy B movies on HBO on rare occasion? Yup, the Killing Fields. Somehow it wasn't overkill but rather therapeutic, bringing the day full circle.

The Incredible Mr Bein

Photo Album. Recently, the wife & I took an impromptu trip to visit the Cu Chi tunnels, some 70 km northwest of Saigon (HCM City) and the experience will be one never to be forgotten. If not for the somber history that is associated with the Viet Congs underground maze of tunnels, its for the indelible memory our guide and War veteran Mr. Bein made on us.

We arrived in Saigon on one of a hundred overnight buses that hog the north south roads in Vietnam. We arrived at our customer service-heavy Madame Cuc's Hotel #127 around 6:15am and on a whim, thought to ask about these tunnels shortly thereafter. We had about 30 hours in this historical town and were ready to MAXIMIZE!! Luckily 2 seats were available and we rushed onto the 8am tour bus. Immediately, the man in the red San Francisco Police Dept hat had our attention, albeit because I was asking him so many questions about logistics (leave it to Andy) and he got a bit huffy.

This man was a wealth of information about Vietnam and the 2 Vietnam Wars of the 50s, 60s & 70s (yes, there was one with the French before the American War). He was an officer for the Southern Vietnamese (our allies!) during the war we know as the Vietnam war and actually was living in the US before returning home to fight. He was stationed not far from the Cu Chi Tunnels, at a US navy base on the river. He was a tiny passionate individual who somehow can cope with revisiting the madness of his war every day. He told us how the VC (VietCong) began digging tunnels in the 50s during the War with the French (the first Vietnam War) and continued as the American War heated up. The crazy thing is that the US & allies built their large Army base protecting Saigon, right on TOP of a section of their tunnels!? Didn't we have ANY intel? The tunnels ended up zigzagging around the region for 250+ km! They were made on 3 different levels, 3M, 6M & 9M underground & were ingeniously constructed to thwart any American or S. Vietnamese efforts to drown them out, send in troops or dogs and also enabled the sneaky VC to recede to lower levels when bombs or grenades were engaged. At most the underground crevices were 1.3M tall and 0.8M wide and often they shrunk down considerably more. The VC built air holes for breathing, trap doors to combat intruders and water and they lived underground during the day only to come up in the evening to hammer the base and its surrounding villages secretively at night. A large part of the VC's rations & ammunition were stolen from the base in the odd hours and it took years & hundreds of deaths before the allies realized what lied below them.

We were taken to the jungle and shown a number of humbling and melancholy episodes. From a Pro-North video berating the Evil Americans, to examples of torturous booby traps & hidden sniper holes the visit was a little scary. As the 2 hour walk continued Stacy & I became more and more introspective about the entire conflict & quiet. We were absorbing the stories more than clamoring up on bombed out US tanks taking photos. It was a hard place to swallow indeed. Mr. Bein had told the group we would be allowed to shoot real guns from the war towards the end of the tour and while at one time we had felt intrigued, by the time we shakily approached the gun range with rounds POPPING and BLASTING every few seconds, we were quite anti and content to walk away. Well actually Stacy needed to and I followed after trying to understand why. What Andy needs to understand is to just let the wife do what feels best for her and not to wonder why. (I'm working on it!).

We we finally led to the famous tunnel that we, as a group would be able to traverse. It ran for 100M and would be led by an experienced man in green fatigues. It was dark and started out roomier than maybe I thought. I bumped into the girl in front of me twice because I never saw her. Stacy followed behind as the tunnel wound around, never in a straight line (a design strategy to make it hard for intruders to see at a distance) and got smaller and smaller. It was claustrophobic and a bit nerve racking as others would call out to slow down or "where are you?". Every 30M above ground (more like 80M down below), the tunnel had a staircase to the surface. Stacy decided as did a number of others to eject. I continued on and dropped down a few meters before I scratched my left shoulder on the ceiling. The crawl space became extremely tight for me and after considering the possibilities turned back. Lucky for me no one behind Stacy had overtaken her and pushed forward. I was able to return to the stairwell and escape the confines of the earth. It was incredibly hot and sweaty down there, never mind the tightness of it. About 1/3 of the group made it all the way to the 4th stairway and I had to clap for them as that was no easy task.

We listened to Mr. Bein and his stories about other tours and jokes about evil rulers hiding down there on his past visits. I feel we received the most inspired and educational briefing we could have possibly received about the region and the War. All because Mr. Bein could put himself through it day after day. I'm sure it is somehow medicinal for him to talk about it and explain his feelings and the truths of his experience.But I saw him get choked up a number of times. I really can't imagine.

To the Incredible Mr. Bein, Thank you.

Saigon, Vietnam

Two of the last three nights have been spent on an overnight bus ride from Hoi An to Nha Trang to scuba dive, then last night from Nha Trang to Saigon. Headphones, an eye mask and blanket are a necessity unless you want to listen to unbelievably loud Vietnamese Idol on TV with the overhead lights on covered in a who-knows-how-many-times previously used blanket. We arrived at 5:30am this morning and it's now at 11:00pm at night I am not sure what is going on. We've had quite an intense day.

On the bus ride, we met Tom from Australia who is a travel journalist on the road for a year himself. Groggy and out of it, we decided to share a cab into the surprisingly bustling city. Oh wait, of course it's bustling, it's Vietnam! We checked into our guesthouse, had a quick bite and hopped on yet another bus to the Cu Chi Tunnels. This incredible network of 275km of underground tunnels which served the Viet Cong in what we know as the Vietnam War. Here it is known as the American War. Andy has been reading The Girl in the Picture and I choked up as we drove up Highway 8 from Saigon to the Cu Chi Tunnels. I couldn't help but envision the famous photo of nine-year-old Kim Phuc running down the same road 36 years ago, her body aflame with napalm.

In the jungle, mock boobie traps were set up to show the terrible ways that soldiers were killed with bamboo sticks through trap doors. We actually walked through a section of the Cu Chi Tunnels which were dark and somewhat frightening. I was in pure disbelief that they actually had a 15 minute session where tourists could pay extra to fire guns actually used in the war. The cracking sound was too much for me - I hurriedly turned around and walked away as fast as I could. I am still in utter disbelief that they make a few extra bucks from tourists to shoot these devastating weapons. It makes my stomach hurt.

Afterwards, we went to the War Memorial Museum. I choked up again as I we studied photos of the injured and guerrilla warfare. Mock prisons and war stories made me cringe once again. It was a tough day. And now I am too tired to write about it anymore.

Sure, I've seen the infamous photo of Kim Phuc. Sure, I've heard about the unimaginable war crimes. And sure, I've learned about the history of the Vietnam/American War. But never has it affected on such a core level as it has today, on the very grounds where it occurred. It's not the same as from an ocean's distance. And I grieve.

"Does looser mean tighter in Vietnamese?"

The city of Hoi An, Vietnam is a custom clothiers dream. It boasts over 500 tailor shops to accommodate needs you didn't even know you had for garb. We paled around with Walid & Louise, a wonderful couple from California and decided to go on a shopping spree. With digital photos of boots, jackets, shirts and shorts, we hopped on bikes and cruised down to Impressions Clothing Shop. Lovely ladies greeted us with warm smiles and dollar signs in their eyes. Amazingly, they had just a quick glance at our photos and made sketches of our designer clothing. Man, these people are whizzes! And the clothes will be done this afternoon? Too good to be true.


After spending the day at the beautiful Hoi An Beach, we rode back ready to try on our clothes. Absolutely nothing fits correctly. They make chalk marks, slap us on our rears and tell us to come back in two hours. A guy on a motorbike rushes in, takes the clothes and rushes out. Two hours later, we're back. Noooope. We analyze one another and still nothing fits right. This shoulder is tweaked, this length is too short, these buttons are crooked. Andy had two dress shirts made, same measurements and completely different lengths and fits. Meanwhile, we shuffle back and forth across the street finagling for perfect fits with boots and shoes. What have we gotten ourselves into?! And how are we going to carry it?!


After the fourth fitting, we were all going a bit nuts. This shirt wasn't even changed! Why don't they write anything down? Is this finished? Eye yey yey. Brilliantly, Louise ran across the street to get us some Tiger Beers to ease the pain. Piles of clothes abound with no organization. Walid pokes his head around the curtain as he is trying on some pants and shouts, "Does looser mean tighter in Vietnamese?" It must.

Finally, after two and a half days and too many hours, the clothes fit. We walked away relatively happy with our custom clothes in a new duffel bag. They say time is money and it most certainly is.

Vietnam: Lost in Translation

Vietnam is so wildly different and counter intuitive than any country I have experienced. First off, everyone is L-O-U-D. I mean piercing to the ears to the point where I unintentionally jump at the unexpected sound. Yelling isn't considered rude here; it's simply how you communicate. Music blares from storefronts and a Vietnamese voice thunders from a PA somewhere. And horns...oh my gosh the horns. Honking one's motorbike, car or bus horn literally every 5 seconds is just what drivers do - it means "I am behind you" or "get out of my way" or "I'm honking just to honk because honking is such fun!" It's multiple times more intense than New York City. And you don't wait for a break in traffic to cross the street or else you will stand there all day long. You just enter into oncoming traffic and somehow the vehicles swerve around you. There is no strolling-on-a-Sunday-like walking, either. You've constantly got to be on the lookout for giant holes, boulders, muddy puddles, children, someone cooking, a pig, a stray dog, motorbikes on the sidewalk and pickpockets. Andy already had some lady sneak her hand into his pocket at the crowded night market in Hanoi a few nights ago as he turned around and said "What in the heck do you think you are doing?!?" Of course, she pretended like she didn't hear and walked away. You've got to be on your toes at all times with a hand squeezed around your valuables and a prayer.

The sights are so strange. Random giant bottles of brownish liquid contained with dead cobras or a goat stand on store shelves and restaurant bars. Raw mystery meat fills spring rolls. Dog meat is on the menu for 1/3 of the price of other meat. Smokers are allowed everywhere. This Internet cafe has burn marks along the top of the keyboard from smokers playing their Warcraft video games with a cigarette in hand. Scammers trying to nail you in any way they can, "Excuse me sir, I am an English student and need your help." "Oh no, this is the right hotel, the other one is full." We saw someone peeing on the sidewalk in midday. Vietnamese men call out to us from tuk tuks, "Where are you going? Let me help you. Let me give you a ride, cheap. Want a motorbike?" and they just follow us for a block right on our heels! You can't waver, it's got to be a loud and clear NO! Imitation restaurants, travel agencies and hotels are omnipresent. (Lonely Planet Vietnam is absolutely essential which we unfortunately received a day late and a dollar short - another story on that later.) Fish sauce on everything. My stomach is starting to feel weird all the time. A pizza has never tasted so good! And it is the hottest and most humid weather I have ever been in to boot. Sweaty, sweaty all the time.

It's tough because our nature wants to trust people, to assume someone is giving you the straight story. Sadly, that truth is a rarity so it's vital to continually remain skeptical. It's quite frustrating to feel discriminated against on a regular basis. Because we are white, immediately prices are more than doubled for everything from meals to hotels to cab rides to bottles of water. It pays to name a price in advance before agreeing to anything. I've heard a couple of stories of cab drivers in Hanoi and Saigon who even use a remote to speed up the meter. It's so messed up! Living most of my life in the US as a white person I have been very fortunate to never feel discrimination directed at me. Let me tell you, it is an incredible eye opener.

Last night I got really frustrated with it. We were charged double at an Internet cafe and tried to protest it but they spoke no English. Double meant $1.20 US vs. 60 cents so it really wasn't worth the hassle but to me it was more of the principle. So we just paid it and left feeling annoyed. Why should we be charged double because we are American? As we walked back to catch a much-needed shower and our overnight bus ride south to Hoi An (or so we thought - yet another story of the unexpected) I discovered that I was taking how we are treated personally. Why am I taking this personally? I asked myself. Then a light bulb came on - it's not personal at all! And if it is not personal, than why should I let it bother me? So I chose to laugh at the experience instead of internalizing it and letting it make me frustrated. As soon as I let go of the feeling of taking it personally I was set free.

It was a challenge, but I had to carry over that feeling this morning. After an overnight bus ride from Ninh Binh in the north we had a stop over at Hue on the central coast. Our plan and our open bus ticket showed that we stay on the bus and continue on to Hoi An. Well, the lady talked (very loudly of course) to us saying we had to get off here, that the bus was full. What the heck? So we tried to argue with her but she insisted that we had to get off the bus. It took all my strength not to crack - I bit my lip, got off the bus, grabbed our bags and stared blankly at Andy. We were fortunate enough to discover there was another bus ride in 5 hours and there were seats available to us. As you might imagine, we asked, "Well how do we know we have tickets for a seat? Because our tickets also said to stay on the bus to Hoi An!" Eye yey yey. So much miscommunication between the bus company employees, us, and who know who else. I had to take a few deep breaths and remember that expectations, even seemingly obvious ones only lead to disappointment. I told myself, Ok, don't take this personally, it's not this guy's fault. There are daily occurrences like this (like being told the overnight bus was new with a bathroom - nope! Not new, no bathroom) and we are faced with two choices: 1) Get frustrated and mad or 2) Take a deep breath, accept the situation and be thankful I have my wonderful husband at my side and my pack on my back. And who knows, Hue might be interesting for a few hours. And I get to spend this time venting on my blog, woo hoo!

Ok, so I am probably not selling you too well on Vietnam at the moment. Despite these idiosyncrasies, we've have a great time and learned many things about ourselves and our limits. We have seen natural beauty in Halong Bay that absolutely took our breath away. (See the photo album.) We are having so much fun with an awesome couple who we are now traveling south with. We laugh together over dinner and drinks at all the crazy things we've seen and endured. We are healthy, have each other and looking forward to Greece in a couple of weeks. We're going to a beautiful tropical beach next to chill out for a few days. And we are stronger for it all.

A Noble Birthday Indeed

Photo Album. For some, spending a birthday in a 3rd world country like Laos in SE Asia (its the relatively new independent nation, northeast of Thailand and northwest of Vietnam) might mean let's buy buy buy all the cheap cheap cheap goodies that are for sale sale sale. From clothing to jewelry, knives to duvet covers, everything was sold at the Night Market and at prices that would make Silas Marner stop, shop & smile.

Well, not for my 29 years young bride. Despite her irritations with the aches and pains brought about by kayaking and...getting older (did I say that?), she had a different agenda for her big day. When I asked her days before, "What do YOU want to do and what do YOU WANT for your birthday?", she responded by insisting on giving, not taking. SCHWEET!! My birthday isn't for a month but sounds like its coming early!!! Well, that's me talking and NO, not her meaning. She was really wanting to give back to the unfortunate people, children especially, that lived around Luang Prabang.

The night before, that's July 6th in Laos and I think it was still July 5th in Southern Cali, she went shopping for the kids. My initial reaction was to shuffle around the streets shaking my head while she bargained with street vendors over colored clay, bubbles, spin wheels and the like. But you know what, I was really proud. Proud of Stacy for setting her priorities in a way she felt strongly about but might not be 'normal' for one's day of birth celebration. Later that night as we looked for deals in the Night Market, we came across a young student from the local university who was selling childrens' books (in Laos & English) in an effort to help raise money for schools and to raise the spirits of the kids in Luang Prabang. Stacy was drawn to the table of colorful books and began chatting with the soft-spoken fellow about his and HER plans for the books. He was quite pleased to hear she wanted to give them to the kids, to find needy youngsters and deliver them. He pointed in a direction of possible villages to visit.

So when we rose out of bed...at 10:30am on July 7th - it was her birthday ya know. She can sleep in on her birthday! We were immediately hit with rain, constant rain, not the tropical rain we were accustomed to thus far. This rain went on and on, but it did not deter us from our plans to rent bicycles and find a village outside of town, play with some children & distribute Stacy's books, gifts...and birthday cheer. We were soaked through the bone once we finally came across a small throng of kids playing down a long dirt, well mud road. There were 6-8 boys and girls from 2 years old to 6 or 7 playing and hitting each other (kids are kids - in San Diego or Luang Prabang, kids are kids) under a roofed concrete slab. We looked at each other, shrugged and agreed that this group was probably as good as any (and dammit it was pouring rain and I was waterlogged!!).

Again my pride in what we were doing, in what Stacy had us doing on this rainy birthday of her's invigorated me. We sat down on some benches and said "Sa-ba-dee" (Hello in Laos) to the aware but uno too sure youngsters. The looks on their faces were hilarious, "what were these 2 doing here?"As Stacy began pulling out her bubbles, I tried to convey to Momma, sweeping her store 30M away that we wanted to play with the children. I am sure she did not understand my words but the big smile & wave made me think she got my gist.

With bubbles flying and kids now standing and swatting them out of the air, I started molding colored clay into mini umbrellas, flowers & carrots. The children were warming up to the tall foreigners invading their play area and started to actively participate. They accepted my clay gifts and promptly squished each into a ball. Making, well, brown balls of clay - lovely. The bubbles were quite a hit and we now had all of them surrounding us with grins. A funny thing though when we pulled out some candy, they backed away and 1 or 2 of them actually ended up leaving soon after. Seems like the "don't take candy from strangers" rule bridges the miles. We put the sugar away and I grabbed my green frisbee which I have been traveling with since the inception. The children clammored about and were all about it! I got them to stand in a circle and we began flipping it around. They were good! "Come on, come on" some of the girls would yell. Other children would pass by on the muddy road and I would toss it over to them to see if their interested eyes would turn into active participation. For several, they were drawn to the antics going on and we had kids coming and going, even a few pre-teens I think. Stacy somehow got a very beautiful interpretive dance from 3 or 4 of the young ladies while us boys hucked the disc about. I'm sure this was not the most fun these little people had ever had, but the grins and laughter made me feel great about what we were doing. Looking over at Stacy brought a big grin and happiness to my face as well.

Stace showed the children the books (both in Laos only) and immediately had a reading circle of sorts around her. There were mathematics and stories about Laos-related activities & creatures. They were drawn to the pages. After a while the kids left the books on the bench, however. We agreed that they did not understand to take them, why would they receive books from complete strangers? We each found a mom and did our best to convey that we wanted the children to have them. They looked closely at the covers and after creative hand gestering understood. "Khop Jai" they said with big smiles - Thank you.

It was time to go, not because the rain had ceased, because it hadn't, but because it just felt like the right time. We zipped up our rain coats and hopped on our grey bicycles. We waved at the confused faces and wondered what they must be thinking about us strangers riding bikes in the mud who came bearing gifts. What the? As I rode off I looked back at Stacy, navigating the giant mud puddles and saw the ear to ear grin on her face.

Happy Birthday Stace.
Thank You Stace.

Laos: Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory

Photo Album. Laos was an incredible experience. There is so much to tell you, so many idiosyncracies and life lessons to share from a beautifully unknown and mostly untouched country (on the tourist trail anyway). It's hard to whittle it down to a story or two that will encapsulate the experience, but read on and imagine yourself here.

It was time for a bit of activity so we booked a kayaking trip on the Nam Ou river. The van was late and we patiently waited. In the US or any other western country, to have a tour van pick you up 30 minutes late would be something to ask or complain about. But not in Laos time. When it finally showed we hopped in with a handful of other westerners who were all going on a two day trek. Hmmm... We asked one of the guides on our bus to make sure and he said yes, this is a kayaking trip. We all just shrugged our shoulders, surrendered to Asian ways and watched Laos life go by from the window of the van as we drove deeper into the surrounding jungle. Eighty percent of Lao roads are unpaved so we were fortunate that only a few kilometers of the trip were bumpy. Who knew a van like this could make it up muddy steep inclines? We picked up five kayaks along the way from a random shed and continued on, stopping at three different roadside vendors for fruit and other food.

The van pulled over in a tiny village and the trekkers hopped out while three travelers from England jumped in. Again, we pulled over (well not really pulled over more like simply stopped in the lane) and received a 30 second lesson on three hours of white water kayaking. The helmets were cracked and the life jackets stunk of mildew but hey, at least we had them! No waivers to sign, no major training or safety, just good fun. That's Asia for you. Andy and I started in the single kayaks and the others in the doubles - architechure grad students Chris, Tom and Mark from South Hampton, England and our two trusty guides. After dropping in we immediately started splashing and trying to capsize one another other. The single kayaks are pretty squirrely which makes even the small rapids lots of fun! It's the wet season here so it was quite overcast and threatening rain but still about 80 degrees and humid.

After an hour or so on the water we pulled over to a sandy beach and enjoyed fried rice with vegetables, a baguette, fresh pineapple and bananas for lunch. (The town of Luang Prabang was a French settlement so we have been enjoying the French influence in cuisine like bread and crepes, non-existent in Asia for us in the last 5 weeks! Rice, noodles, more rice, more noodles...) A group of children from the Highland tribe were playing and throwing a giant net out in the milk chocolate colored river nearby trying to catch fish. After a while they were dressed, clustered together and watching us eat. I brought over half of our bread and rice, opened the lid and held it out to them assuming they would each take a piece. Instead, they all stared at the food and looked at me quizzically. One boy, maybe four or five years old took the plate from me and closed the lid as I turned away. So I walked back over, knelt down and handed out individual pieces of bread to the six children, two girls age six or seven each with a one-year-old on their backs. They took the bread, muching on it slowly as they kept staring, not so sure about me. I smiled and nodded and said "Mmmm!" as I fed another child spoonfuls of rice and another round of bread.

A giant, conical mountain peak covered in green jungle stood beautifully in the distance. The Brits came over and began to build a sandcastle imitating the same shape as the rugged mountain. They tried to engage the children but they had a what in the heck are you doing playing in the dirt? look on their faces. As the sandcastle began to take shape complete with a moat, plants and a bridge the children were more curious. One of the girls gave Tom a flower and he planted it on the top of the peak. Suddenly, the smiles were flowing as more children began to pick foliage and flowers and hand them to us but too shy to plant them on the structure themselves, except for one. This five-year-old boy stretched out but was too short to reach the top. My wonderful husband reached out and picked him up so he could plant the flower on the peak of the mountain himself. I was taking photos of them all the while. I showed the kids the photos and their enthusiasm ensued. They began to make funny faces at the camera and giggled uproariously as their tongues and hand gestures glowed back at them from the screen. It was incredible to watch the transformation from shy and unsure to pure joy and gregarious laughter. A smile and human kindness is truly universal.

We packed up our gear and headed back down Willy Wonka's river as thunder roared. The image of the hill tribe children encircling the sandcastle planting flowers and leaves as we rowed away will forever remain emblazoned in my mind.

Andy and I were now in a double kayak and a rapid crept up on us quickly. Suddenly we tipped over and as I scrambled to get back in I was wondering how in the heck that happened?! Our guides flipped us over with their oars! And I was so proud that I hadn't tipped over yet:) I laughed as I felt the refreshment of the cool water. The peaks behind us disappeared in the rainy mist. The mountains surrounding us were so vibrant and green, just dripping with bamboo and other tropical foliage. Rocks jutted out from jagged peaks as I imagined tigers and snakes hiding out. The rain began to fall and it was comfortably cool and refreshing as we paddled along to the finish.

I almost slipped backwards into the mud trying to drag our kayak out of the water but like a dozen times on this trip, thankfully I caught myself. We climbed up the mountainside and emerged into a monestary complete with orange-robed Buddhist monks on the steps of their temple. A giant gold Buddha stared at us as we washed off our muddy digits from their running water supply near their bamboo-made huts. Curiously, they watched us and we watched them. Chris asked if we could see inside their temple and they invited us inside. Our guides explained that they have many daily prayers and offerings, one of which is performed at dawn which must last for one hour before they can eat. The eldest monk covered in hand made tribal-like tattoos was sitting at the top of the temple steps sawing then hammering a dried out paint can to a stick. The monks use this simple contraption to gather the water to bathe themselves or to drink. I am consistently amazed how the monks and hill tribes use and reuse their natural resources. A good lesson for us all.

After a much needed warm shower, we bought a small bottle of sticky rice whiskey (for 5000 kip, or about 60 cents US) and headed out to the night market for a delicious dinner of street food. The smells are intense and intoxicating on many different levels. We settled on chicken on a bamboo stick (it tasted quite good but was mostly fat), sticky rice on a bamboo stick, raw veggie spring rolls with watercress, mint and carrot in a peanut/chili sauce, and a vegetarian plate of goodness from a roadside setup to share.

Sardines - Folded and Packaged

Hello from the beautiful jungles of Northern Laos (pronounced Lao), in the French-influenced town of Luang Prabang. We just arrived yesterday, July 3rd and still cannot believe we are traversing the beautiful and untouched landscape of Laos. We took a 2-day slow boat ride from the northern Thai border at the city of Chiang Khong. This would be known as the scenic route for sure. The 2-day trip is a typical package deal for travelers in Northern Thailand looking to visit the more subdued, less touristy mecca of Laos. For $46 US, you are picked up in Chiang Mai by air conditioned grey mini bus, with 12 other crammed touristas and driven to the Thai Laos border 5+ hours away at Chiang Khong. This is where we got our first glimpse of the 12th longest river in the world, the Mekong. We got our first night's dinner and accommodation paid for as well as a skimpy little omelet & toast the next morning. Oh, and the Tang-like orange juice which I passed on thank you very much. We also started the Laos VISA process with a gentleman who said he did this everyday and then took our passports away with him for the night. Uh oh. It also was suggested we purchase a pillow for the boat ride for 40 baht (~$1.25US). Fine, I bought a blue one with crisscrossing stripes and Stacy one with little fish on it.

We were taken the next morning to secure our coveted passports and VISAs for Laos. We were dropped off at the river's edge and pointed down to the water. O-K. A throng of us whities looked at each other and shrugged as we were hustled into small 'long tail' boats and ferried across the brown Mekong River. Again we were directed by an unassuming fellow who moaned 'VISAs' and pointed to the right up some stairs. Our names were called out after a short wait and we paid our $35 in US greenbacks for our VISAs but more importantly got our passports back in our possession. Funny, we had to come all the way to Laos to see the US dollar again. Still unclear as to why?

Again, we were herded into a cluster and asked to board a pickup truck covered taxi. Our turtle shells (back packs) were heaved on the roof and off we went, inland so it seemed. But, aren't we taking a 2-day BOAT ride on the river that was back...THERE!? Stacy reminded me to just surrender and that is what I did as again our passports were taken away and we waited at an outdoor restaurant with dozens of other confused but patient travelers. We got the documents back and were directed again by grunt and finger point down to the water's edge where we stood in a bulging line of back pack-wearing youngsters and walked across a precarious plywood plank onto our boat. We were finally aboard the vehicle that would house us for the next 7 hours or so.

I think our relief was a little premature as we found our seats to be upright wooden benches, barely wide enough for 2 of us and definitely NOT deep enough for even one of my butt cheeks! But, glad we got those pillows, because ewowe! We dumped our luggage in the back engine room and settled in with the other 130 or so travelers. I knew this sitting situation was not going to last because my back was already aching. I remembered what cousin Matt had told us when he took this ride and how he sat in the rear with the luggage. It was a little more CO2 than I like to inhale but was far more comfy. Another guy followed me back there and we laid on the floor leaned up against a number of bags. 5 star all the way!!! I napped & read a while while Stacy conversed and made friends up front. The beautiful Laos jungle passed us by as we meandered our way down the river. It was truly a sight to see. Lush green jungles, mountains, the occasional buffalo & kids wading along the shore line. We felt we were having the real SE Asia experience! It was surreal. Thank god I was feeling better and my flu bug was kicked. Not the place to be going feeling like crap.

We were heading deeper and deeper into Laos and further into the jungle. It was an incredible feeling to be floating down the same river so many of our countrymen had 4 decades ago, probably with sniper fire all around. Laos was the victim of one of the most intensive bombing missions ever in the 60s & 70s with over 540,000 bombs dropped and 30% of those never exploding! So that means there are some 180,000 UXOs out there buried in the jungles. They have some retrieval programs going, but it is a slow go. Despite the discomfort and junk food we had to snack on, the experience was something special for all of us. We drank water and ate Oreos and chips - mmmm. And lucky we had those as what you brought on board was what you ate. The word 'Concessions' was lost in translation somewhere along the line!

We finally arrived at our night's destination, a tiny village on the river's edge, called Pak Beng. We balanced our way across another scary plank and made it to land. This was a one-road village, lined with ramshackle guest houses and merchants selling more junk food (dont think our stomachs can take it anymore) and souvenirs. We found our place for the night with a large room, king size bed, no creatures inside and a private bath. Fine and time for a shower!

The bathrooms are funny in SE Asia. The rooms tend to be all tile and have a sink and toilet like you would hope. The shower is not a separate space however and definitely NOT enclosed! It is just a movable hose with shower head and when it comes time to use it water gets everywhere. It is key, if you brought your own toilet paper with you, to put it up high and out of the way somewhere because its bound to get wet! The toilets are typically accompanied by a smaller, kitchen sink-like hose & head. So if you do not have TP, no worries just give a little arse spray and all is clean...and soaking wet! I have become accustomed to the butt spray, Stacy not so much. To each their own!

We went out for dinner and met up with some older folks we had seen on the boat. They were some of the only people NOT younger than us by years! And they seemed to be having a fun time. Good company indeed! A couple from just north of Sydney, Craig & Louise, a Belgian lady named Charlotte and another nice lady from Northern California, who is a teacher at Menlo College, & who I know Momma Conlon would love!

We laughed a lot & enjoyed some Laos Koy Buffalo (minced meat, rice noodles, lemon & chili) and mashed potatoes. Craig & I were both excited about the prospect of mashed potatoes!! We drank a number of BeerLao & the ladies drank red wine. The waiter brought by some lao lao which is a rice whiskey for us to try. We laughed and talked about about future & past travels, before going off to sleep.

We found out in the morning that a younger female traveler from our boat & who was staying at our place was robbed of her ipod last night. Yikes! Do we have ours?! Yes. We ate some tasty pancakes (much like the delicious ones in Indo) and walked around town. The rain had joined us and brought with it the low white clouds that complete the mental image I have of the region. The vegetable market was going on just up the road from our guest house and we took a quick look before going to board the boat at 8:15am. We were on a larger boat today, but I think they were consolidating 2 boats into one. We scouted out our seats - today we would be on the floor against the front walls next tot the flip flop area and believe it or not that was prime real estate. There were dozens of chairs with backs but the thought of lying on the floor sounded much more comfortable to us. We attempted to maintain our little rectangles of space as more and more travelers boarded the boat and wide eyed, wondered where they were going to sit. The boat seemed quite overfilled and soon we were lying everywhere, head to foot, foot to back, you name it, we were packed in however it was going to work. Some were in the very back with the engine, others overflowed to the captain's chagrin upstairs into his wheelhouse and sleeping area. Stacy found a spot up against a dresser and between the chain steering column. We posted as best we could and made nice with 6-8 floor lovers around us. We played some cards, read and tried to sleep in the spaces available. This day, it was raining quite a lot and the beautiful low clouds draped the hillside jungles and it was like you see in the movies. WOW! It was breathtaking and believe it or not, much more comfortable than Day 1! I think everyone figured out their system and even though most of us were lying on the floor, we weer comfortable. Many people were drinking warm beerlao and most were reading. There was even a dining room table in the back where several games of poker were going on. Wacky!

The scenery was marvelous however and made the trip quite enjoyable! After about a 7 hour journey into the beautiful country, the boat pulled around and we disembarked in Luang Prabang. It is a great little town with amazing French architecture but mixed in with historical Laos temples, cut in between 2 intersecting rivers and nestled in a valley with mountainous jungles all around. We are soaking it in as much as we can. Time to get out and enjoy it!