Social reform is underway, thanks to a few cocktails (posting from the road)

Another painful bus ride ended in the capital city of Cambodia, Phnom Penh. After spending the recent past in smaller cities, the hustle and bustle of the capital was overwhelming. The city is crowded with but still full of all the weird Cambodianess I have come to apprechiate; buddhas collecting alms, randomly placed sweatshops, geckos everwhere, an elephant walking in traffic and the tuk tuk. I discovered that there are more tuk tuks then actual residents in the city. This overwhelming surplus leads to constant harassment, if you accidentally glance in the direction of a tuk tuk driver they will stalk you. I swear sometimes it is just easier to get in, pay the dollar then it is to get harassed - even if it is just a block.

I was able to check off another one of the 'thousand places to see' list - the Silver Pagoda at the Royal Palace. It was impressive but I was more blown away by the security present. There are over 4,000 diamonds (one over 20 carats) adorning a solid gold buddha, that is secured by a flimsy lock that could easily be picked by a hairpin while a guard naps near by. My guess is the karma that would be associated with stealing a buddha is what deters most would be theives...

I now can wear the badge of honour of being escorted out of one of Phnom Penh's 'toughest' nightclubs. Our first day ended with a visit to the "Heart of Darkness" bar - it had something to do with Apocolypse Now; it was inspired by it or it inspired part of the the movie, something like that - either way...that was in the past, way way in the past. How to describe it...a pottery barn decorated brothel that plays bad 80's music and sells overpricesd, but very strong, cocktails.

The strength of their cocktails is where I got the strength to try and make some much needed changes to the social problems in Cambodia. In case you missed the CNN expose last week, their is a HUGE prostitution problem here. Sitting in this club, the dance floor was empty except for young, scantily clad females shaking their asses for the creepy old white guys in the audience. I sat quietly for a while, just absorbing it all...then I snapped. I started yelling at this man sitting across from me, or as I like to think of it, telling it like it is. I said something about him being a dirty old pervert that is contributing to the degredation of society...this is what led to my invitation to depart. Realizing that there are 2 sides to this problem, I found some ladies, or rather, girls of the night, smoking by a tree. I started pleding them to go back to school ("education is important!") while Christopher and Scott dragged me in to a tuk tuk. Thank heavens there was one available.

A-gun

"The story that has to be told" (posting from the road)

WARNING - this e-mail/posting is not for everyone. I tried to make it as tasteful as possible, but I do not possess the literary ability to make the topic of genocide pleasant to read.

This won't serve as a replacement for a history lesson, if you want the facts I suggest you try Wikipedia. I am merely going to relay to you what was told to me by some of the people that I have met. I struggled with the decision to even write this, I don't really write on anything that matters, so please don't take these words as my usual 'fluff'. My words here are at the request of Cambodians - they want foreigners to tell their tale - in the hopes that it will stop it from ever occuring again. "The story that has to be told" they called it.

Most people know that sometime in the past some bad things happened to the people of Cambodia, what exactly and when...my guess is that you don't know - at least I didn't. They history books and the people tell different versions of the events but they key points are the same; millions of people died and it started in 1975.

After the Americans left Cambodia, the Pol Pot Khmer Rouge (PPKR) regieme came into Phnom Penh. Their goal was to restructure society, creating an agricultural based country that was not impacted by the rest of the wolrd. To achieve this, the PPKR started with the lies - telling the citizens of the capital that they needed to flee the city because "the Americans were going to come back and drop the B52 bomb on them, just like they did to the Japanese" (please do not e-mail me with inaccuracies in that statment, it's what they were told/remember). Terrified, the residents of Phnom Penh fled the city in a stampede, many people dying in the mass exodus.

Once they reached the countryside, Pol Pot soldiers had them gather around so they could start planning for the future. These soldiers conviced the Khmer people that they should form communities in the country, in order to do this they would have to identify the strengths that they had. All professors, doctors, lawyers, architects, engineers - basically any educated people (including people wearing glasses) - were asked to identify themselves. The plan was to provide further education for these people so they could run a successful community. They were returned to Phnom Pehn with their familes for more education, while the remaining Cambodians were to remain and set up a strong agricultural base. This is what they were told and believed.

Of course that's not what happened. The 'country' people were forced into an agricultural slavery. All individuality was stripped away - with identical haircuts and clothes, the people worked, ate and slept the exact same schedule. Their work days were in excess of 15 hours. Many thousands of them succumbed to starvation and exposure under these conditions.

Young men, under the age of 18 were identified as potential soliders and were seperated from their familes and then the brainwashing began (just think how impressionable teenagers are). This is how Pol Pot recruited new members.

The 'educated' people were taken back to Phnom Penh, to the infamous Tuol Sleng Prison. Commonly referred to as S-21 this former secondary school was converted into a holding prison. As you can imagine, conditions were horrific. There was a list of the rules and consequences still posted when I toured. An example: iIf you were lying on your back and wished to sleep on your side, you had to ask permission - if you didn't you were beat with wire. All but 7 of the over 17,000 detainees held here ultimately met their end after they were taken from S-21 to the Choeung Ek Killing Fields. (The entire family was killed in order to prevent any future revenge).

Nowdays the killing field is almost a peacful place. A portion of the 220+ mass graves have been uncovered to reveal the remains of 8895 bodies of various ages. The government did not want the next generation or visitors to forget the atrocities that occured here - so they decided to erect a memorial tower or stuppa that houses over 5000 skulls, various bones and fragments of clothing. Given their subject matter, it is tastefully done. This stuppa sits in the middle of field that of open grave pits and trees with horrific histories. (there is a "magic tree" - it was here that soldiers would play happy noises over a loudspeaker so that people nearby would not hear the moans and screams. This is one of the reasons the field remained a secret for as long as it did.) There are so many more tales I could tell you from my visit there but I don't want to sensationalize this posting like some cheap Hollywood movie - what happened was brutal and horrific. I only visited Tuol Sleng and Choeung Ek, there were many similar set-ups throughout the Cambodia.

So when did it end? Officially January 7, 1979, after Vietnamese intervention, the PPKR was toppled. Unofficially, the horror, in more subdued ways continued into the 1990's. I spoke with one young man who remembers hiding in the temples of Angkor Wat when the Khmer Rouge came to town (Angkor Wat is surrounded by a moat, it was built to be a fortress). Looking around today, it is unusual to see an elderly person. I have met 3 people my age who lost parents to the Khmer Rouge long after the killing allegedly ended.

Is the Khmer Rouge finally gone? Most Cambodian nationals will not discuss the subject, they fear a return of the past. Some feel that the "bad guys" simply took off the military uniform and put on a suit (sidebar - the current Prime Minster is Hun Sen, the leader of the Cambodian People's Party -CPP. He has been the Prime Minster since 1998 after the CPP staged a bloody coup to overthrow the elected leader at the time). There is constant fear that if you speak out against them or even discuss the past, you will be punished. Everyone that I spoke with was in private, never in a public setting. Corruption and paranoia go hand in hand.

Is peace in Cambodia possible? Of course it is - when everything changes. The other day there were 3 Cambodian soldiers killed over a dispute with Thailand along the border. This is an everyday ocurrance, one that we never hear about. I asked why no country stepped in to intervene during the genocide of the 1970's? Apparently we didn't hear about that either. Ignorance is bliss I guess, as long as your not Cambodian.

**the faces in the photos are a few of the millions that were tortued and executed by Pol Pot's soldiers.**

Food for the fishes...(posting from the road)

I have learnt one thing while travelling, if a place is worth seeing it will suck trying to get there. Koh Rung Island in the Bay of Thailand is no exception. I set out from the port city of Sihanoukville Cambodia early on a Sunday morning with 8 other folks from around the world. According to the glossy brochure we were to be boarding a luxious dive boat for a 2 hour ride across the bay. What in fact happened is we boarded a richety wooden fishing boat for a slow, long putt across the bay. We had been gone for about 30 min, so we were a good 6 feet from the dock when a Cambodian Police boat pulled up and spent 10 min arguing with the Cambodian crew aboard, I can only assume some money changed hands and then we were off.

Many hours later we pulled up to a wobbly deck on an stunning island. White sand beaches as far as you could see...palm trees...crystal blue waters...and the best part, virtually empty. My time was not spent enjoying paradise however; I was in school - scuba school. The only other student in my 'class' was a 6'4 gentleman who used to swim for the national team of Denmark - I think you can imagine how well our joint swim test went. Mathias was already out of the water, finished a drink and I swear his hair was dry by the time I finished.
After a short class(we had done some homework the day before) we were in the water for our first dive. Following our skill demonstration lesson, we had time for a "muck" dive. It was amazing!! We saw giant crabs, octopuses, seahorses...sorry no pictures, I was busy trying not to drown.

The second dive, after some more lessons and quizzes, did not go so well. In fact it might just be one of the worst dives in the history of diving. I wasn't feeling quite right after a lunch of vegetable curry, plus swallowing a gallon of salt water on the swim out to the dive site did not help matters. It was time for more skills, under 2 metres of water. I was kneeling on the ocean floor, wating patiently for my turn, gently being swayed back and forth by the currents when the feeling came back. Never in my entire life have I been as nauseated as I have on this whole trip. Just think back to the last time that you vomitted...now imagine being about 7 feet under water when you start. These werethe thoughts that were racing though my brain, promptly leading to chest pain and anxiety. The more I thought about it, the worse it got. And then I started...I'll spare you the gory details, needless to say I shot to the surface like a rocket and the local fish dined well that night.

I laid in bed after that, feeling like a total loser. Here I was alone on a gorgeous island and so far the higlight had been a delicious dinner of schnitzel and an amazing sunset. Worse then that, I was going to have to go back and tell everyone how I failed. I took a handful of gravol/dramamine and fell asleep to the waves lapping up against my walls.

Shina, my dive instructor was amazing. She had me up at the crack of dawn, and we were in the water before 7 am. In less then an hour, I was back on track. We did 3 more dives that day, all of it was awesome. A collection of unusual fish and creatures waited for us 12.6 metres below the surface. I tried to take photos of them all to share with you but I had some difficulties. First off, the fish do not like to remain still for the photos. Secondly, I have not mastered the fine art of buoency. So while I am trying to take the photos I seem to either slam into the reef or float a few metres up towards the surface. I will keep practicing - in time the photos will be awesome.

So that is it, good bye from paradise. I am back on the Cambodian mainland. My newly acquaried dive certificate and I are heading out for a celebratory beer. Chull moy (cheers in Kuhmari).

A-gun for reading!

Hotter than Hell...(posting from the road)

Part of our Cambodian expereince includes spending the night in the home of a loacl family in a villiage. Chambok was our host villiage. This unique village had spent years earing a living by harvesting lumber and animals from the nearby jungle. Cambodia has finally started to enforce the global rules banning this, thus forcing Chambok to search for a new source of income. While rice is still their primary income they have now ventured into the world of ecotourism...slowly. The town is home to 3650 people in the area, 5 speak english. All the ones we met are desperate to learn. When you walk through the town, people come running out of their huts to say "hello" and "where are you from" - they are definately a welcoming villiage.

After a dinner of rice we returned to our host families home via a shuttle van, apparently the snakes are very bad and a few tourists have been bit after dark (this is black cobra country). Hoping the temperature would drop, we decided to play some cards before bed. While I was kicking a little ass in cards (if it were in Olympic sport I would be draped in gold, not to brag or anything), Christopher and Scott were off chatting with the man of the house. I found out later they were teaching him some English...he would point to various things and ask for the english word...tree, cup, nose, arm, penis...after the 4th time he clarified the word penis, they guys decided to return to the card game. According to them, it was just getting a little wierd.

A few hours later we realized that the temperature was not going to drop and just decided to head to bed. Our driver and guide slept outside in hammocks, leaving the 'guests' to the beds in the hut. With no air circulation, mosquito nets in place and stifling heat, sleep was virtually impossible. It took probably 2 hours before my lids started to droop (with the help of a few pills...) when all of a sudden I was jerked awake by some screams for help. More exactly "help me, help me - I don't want to die". It was Scott, 2 beds away. Figuring he was being attacked by a snake we all tried to bolt out of our beds, unfortunately getting caught up in our mosqito nets. By the time we got untangled, Scott had woken up - turns out it wasn't a snake, it was a nightmare - he had dreamt that he was burning in hell.

Poor Scott, his bad night wasn't over. He stumbled out to the washroom and at the door to our hut was met by the man of the house, he wanted to make sure his guests weren't attacked by a snake while walking to the outhouse. Very nice right? Well, still half asleep, Scott hadn't noticed that the man had followed him into the washroom, that is until he heard the man say, "penis" while pointing at poor Scott.

It was a long night. The heat made sleep impossible and if for some reason someone did drift off there were 30 or so dogs that consistently barked outside our hut. The roosters started at 0430. And of course, Scott had to sleep with one eye open....it was unanimously decided the next day by all of us that there would be no future homestays despite the hospitality of the town - at least until central air is installed.

A-gun again!

Tour de Cambodia and another vomitting faux pas (posting from the road)

I think you can imagine that cycling is not going to end well. We arrived today after that horrid bus ride in the small town of Kampong Cham, a less than attractive town on the banks of the Mekong River. Dino, our over zealous guide suggested that we should go for a bike ride (and by suggest I mean he already arranged it).

Given the fact that it was the only attraction listed in the Lonley Planet Guide, we all decided why not - despite the 36C heat. Sure none of us have cycled in years - what's that old saying, "It's just like riding a bike...". That is a stupid saying.

Before I go on I feel as though I must explain that what we were riding would be VERY charitably referred to as 'bicycles'. Maybe one day they were, many many many years ago. There is no shifting, no suspension and in my case no brakes. But we set off - destination adventure. In this case adventure was at the end of the world's longest bamboo bridge. There is an island that sits in the Mekong, just off the shores of Kampng Cham. In the wet months, you take a ferry but in the dry months there is a 800 m bamboo bridge that is constructed every year.

Accident number 1 occured before we reached the bridge, poor Kerry's bike failed to negotiate a turn causing her to go skidding across the pavement. Bruised but not broken, she carried on. I thought I might go over the edge of the bank trying to reach the bridge, pesky no brake issue coming back to haunt me, but luckily I hit a rock, bounced in the correct direction and ended up on the bridge!

You know those action adventure movies where the hero is running/riding across a bridge and it is collapsing behind him. That is what it sounds and feels like when you peddle a 1915 bicycle across the bridge. It is terrifying. Reward came at the other side in the form of a cool refreshing sugar cane drink. Plus it was there the majority of us decided to never cross that bridge again, we planned on just swimming through the river.

We were calmly cycling around the peaceful, no cars (only bikes and motos) island receiving cheers and high fives from the local kids when the second accident occurred. Scott, turning to follow Dino, failed to hear the honk of a moto. Probably because the previous 7 straight hours of honking had left him deaf, anyway the moto hit him. It took a few minutes to untangle everything but we determined that no serious damage was done and continued on.

Now Dino has led us down a 'trail' used by oxen. It is mixture of loose sand and hardened mud ruts. We have tried to discourage Dino...2 accidents should be enough - but he insits, saying that it will be fun and the view is amazing. So the disheartened group peddles on, through tobacco fields while famers and cows stare at us in awe.

Accident number 3 - the last thing I remember was thinking how sore my ass was and what a stupid f#&*ing idea this was. Then I went off the trail, bike went one way and I another. I awoke after what I assume was just a few seconds on unconsciousness to a raging headache and a bleeding left upper arm. Not wanting to appear like the big sissy that I truly am, I assured everyone that I was fine and hopped back on my bike, tears streaming down my face and peddled/wobbled back to flat land. The good thing about my concussion...I don't remember how I got back to the mainland.

The adventure continues for this was the night that Dino had arranged for us to go to dinner at 'some guys' house. Dinner was amazing. This guy turned out was our tuk-tuk driver earlier in the day and had offered to host us that night. This is not uncommon, you give them money and they give you food. The man of the house was proudly introducing his family; 3 boys and a pregnant wife who had been cooking all day. The man is very excited about his upcoming child, another boy, saying that soon he will have enough for a football team! Dino decides to inform him that he will also have enough for a boy band (I choked on my dinner laughing at the man's expression to Dino's suggestion).

You all seem to like stories where I almost vomit....well it's now time for the customary after drink...rice wine. No worries, I can do a shot with the best of them (ask anyone who has seen me down Silvio's grappa!). So the man brings out the clear jug which has the 'wine', all I can see is some sort of sediment at the bottom , no biggie I figure, it is homemade. The shot goes down, burning all the way and then I see the container more closely. I knew I should have brought my glasses. The sediment at the bottom...20 tarantulas. I think you can imagine the retching noise I made next...it turns out that almost vomiting someones homemade prize moonshine is as offensive as actually vomiting it up. Who knew?

A-gun for reading!

honk honk honk honk honk honk (posting from the road)

It was sad to leave the sweet town of Siem Reap, and I would have gladly stayed had I known what a waited me at the end of a very long public bus ride. Part of our basic tour includes public buses whenever possible, which at first sounded like a fun adventure. I am sure that most of you have not had the privilage of third world public bus riding (for those who have this should serve as a violent reminder)...let me tell you about it. To board the bus you have to fight your way through tons of people trying to sell you fruit and bread (Barry - I used that trick we developed in Cusco, just buy one of everything to try and protect yourself from further vendors). You then have to figure out which bus is yours through matching up the kuhmer alaphabet symbols with your 'ticket' - there are many Korean symbols present as well if that makes it easier for you. There are at least 25 buses to check (I don't think Cambodia has this many cities to travel to by bu so I have no idea where all of these buses are going!?) It appears as if all buses in Cambodia are on their second life, through either sales or theft, having originated in Korea.

Once you have determined that you have the correct bus, or at least one travelling that general direction, you must place your luggage under the bus. As the under storage cabinets open from both sides, no doubt someone is waiting on the other side to promptly unload your bags and have a quick look through them. Luggage stored, or at least out of your hands? Time to board the bus.

You sit down, exhale and enjoy a moment of peace, you had better enjoy it because that is the last serene moment that you will ever have. From then on it is nothing but honk, honk, honk, honk. honk for 7 hours straight. The driving here is a bit different in that no one signals, you simply signify your intentions with a honk. Passing is a necessity because 'Cambodian' freeway traffic is composed of trucks, buses, motos, tuk-tuks, bicycles and ox-carts - obviously all travelling at vastly different speeds. No worries, just honk, pull out and all other traffic will simply drop to the sides of the road and let you through. Our driver honked much more then I would think necessary - at every cow, buffalo or rice patty we passed he would give them a honk honk (I assure you no amount of iPod drowns this out either). We concluded in the end that he must be getting some sort of a kickback for every honk - kickbacks are a very popular thing here. Would you like a distracting sound from the horns? No worries, entertainment on these public buses is...Cambodian Karaoke! Even worse, sometimes they have intermittent English lyrics. There are videos to accompany the songs - every video, and I do mean EVERY video is a man who is cheating with an attractive women, they are cuddling at the beach or a park, while a scorned women follows them by dodging behind lightposts looking forlorn.

Need to use the washroom? No worries, there are stops every few hours at roadside stands where a disgusting squat toilet is available. This is also your chance to stock up on some road snacks...your options generally seem to be fried bananas, rice, crickets and spiders. (yes that is Christopher eating a spider in the photo). The only redeeming features about these stops...no horn...that is until it's time to get back on the bus, then honk, honk, honk.

So you have made it to your destination...wait the fun's not over yet...if the bus slows, even for a nano second, out of thin air, eager tuk-tuk drivers appear in the hopes that someone maybe getting off and need a ride. They swarm the door, making deboarding the bus a nightmare. Now you need to find your luggage - but as soon as it is unloaded from the bus by one of the 12 y.o. employees, it is scooped up by a tuk-tuk driver. Now hot, exhausted and in desperate need of a washroom you have to fight your way through the crowds to try and find all the pieces of your luggage which are no doubt spread out through various tuk-tuks. It's only a matter of time until you just give up the fight and walk away, abandoning all luggage - I say let someone else lug it for a while!

hmmm never did get to my point...next e-mail

A-gun for reading.

who knew srimp came from a forest??? (posting from the road)

I wearily eyed the mode of transportation for our next adventure...a motorcycle, or moto as they are referred to here in Cambodia. Christopher and I were to be mounting these 2 death traps (don't anyone tell me otherwise...between the horror stories from my father and what I have seen in the ER....) driven by 2 young Cambodian men. Our solice was in the fact that we actually knew the 2 locals, well kind of. My friends from Seattle; Jason and Deena, introduced us to some people that they had met previously while on vacation in the same area. Last night we all went out and dined on some Cambodian cuisine to get better acquainted. The American, Denny, who is kind of the orchastrator of all, has some absolutely amazing insights to share into this unique land. We talked about the growing problem of child prostition, there are posters everywhere about it; keeping children safe, getting kids off the street etc. Denny explained the the corruption of the country runs deep. Sadly many of the kids who are in the field of prostitiution are there because their family has placed them there, in fact they bring the money home to mom afterwards (just like the postcard sellers, its another way to make a profit). Oops - off on another tangent - I could write pages on the intersting insights of Denny.

Anyway, it was here at dinner that we met Andrew and David, our tourguides and drivers for the following day. At the suggestion of Deena and Jason we headed out to see a local village. First stop however was for gas. Doesn't sound exciting does it? Well it is when the gas is poured into the tank out of old Johnny Walker bottles from a stand on the side of the road while everone around is smoking. Cheating death once again, we set off. After 40 min, on some rather rough terrain, we then boarded a boat for another 30 journey down a river to arrive at the villiage of Kampong Khleang. While not totally foreign to tourists, they are certainly few and far between. Kampong Khleang sits on the banks of a river, I did ask a local the name of the river with the help of the translator but was told it was called river. (on a similar note, all dogs appear to be known simply as dog). This river flows into Tonle Lake, which is the the largest freshwater lake in S.E. Asia and home to a natural phenomenon. During the rainy season the water actually backflows along the Mekong River and increases the lakes size from 2500 km2 to 10,000 km2. My point in telling you this is to explain why the houses, and everything in the town is on stilts. Ten metre high stilts to say the least. If its not on stilts then it floats (like some of the pig pens). As I mentioned, we were there during the dry season, this means that in order to enter the 'restaurant' that we ate at we had to climb a series of ladders.

I know what your thinking, but I didn't fall...came close. Actually the nearest brush to death while perched up in this tree fort came when it was time to visit the facilities. I watched as our food was raised up through a trap door in the floor and was worried that I was going to have to tackle some similar obstacle. And I did. Not a vertical challenge but a percarious walk across some loosly laid, very weathered, creaky wooden planks that would lead me to...a squat toilet. I contemplated the humilitaing manner of death this would be should I plunge to my death in a squat toilet - who knows what lays below - and decided against it. What's a little renal failure anyway?

After a delicious meal that consitsed of rice, the rest enjoyed some fresh fish as well (so for me, more rice), we walked through the town to the school. In case tourists do come, there is the opportunity to purchase pencils and notebooks. You then pick a classroom to enter to distribute your gifts. The kids immediately stand to attention and begin bowing with closed hands. With the help of our translators we had the chance to spend a few minutes visiting with the kids and learning more about them. We were in a grade 5 class that was comprised of 28 girls and 6 boys (I did ask the teacher, the discrepency is due to the fact that the boys are out helping their fathers fish. And sure enough they could be seen all along the river.) They were very grateful and could not stop thanking us. Unreal.

Our whirlwind tour of Kampong Khleang concluded with a paddle in some small, unstable 'boats' down the river and through the flooded forest. I tried to find out the type of trees that surrounded us, to no surpirse, they were simply referred to as tree. My boat did fairly well at the hands of the 8 y.o. girl who was paddling. Christopher nearly lost an arm trying to untangle his boat from a fishing net and then a shrimp trap that they got caught in, in the middle of the forest. I'll try and include some photos but I assure you that it was more surreal and peaceful then the photos...

All in all it was a fantastic day...for those of you who eat shrimp...I got to see it being 'prepared'. It is laid out on large bamboo mats in the center of the town. Dogs, roosters and children play in and around it. After a few days of drying in the sun, little Cambodian women pull the pieces off that shouldn't be there and then package it in large burlap sacs. My point in telling you this is not to discourage the eating of shrimp, afterall these people need the money, but you might want to chase it with an immodium....just a suggestion...

A-gun for reading!

Attn: Angelina Jolie (posting from the road)

Up before the roosters. Just me and 500 other tourists making the trek out to Angkor Wat to see the sunrise over the main temple. It's the shot you have seen a thousand times...the sun slowly peaking out from behind Angkor Wat which is reflected nicely in a pool of still water. Well good news...I won't subject you to that shot again. The water was full of weeds and didn't really reflect too much. Plus, after getting there at 0445, fighting off many vendors of books and coffee, I held my breath - waiting for that magestic sunrise over the magical temple...well the sun did come up...and revealled...that Angkor Wat was under construction.

Disheartened, exhausted and dehydrated I refused to snap any photographs that revealled the renovation projects and scaffolding. I trapsed through the rest of that early morning, near collapse and somewhat disenchanted (I think that 90 mg of lasix from the other day had caught up with me - I was very dehydrated). We spent our first few hours at the site, just exploring the main temple, and don't get me wrong, it is pretty spectacular...just not what I had envisioned. Plus with no water or electrolytes in my system I was pretty darn useless, I had the same mental and physical abilities as a clump of Play-doh. Food and water became essential to my survival pretty quick that day.

There are tons of little kids all over the place, trying to sell postcards and scarves. They chase you all over yelling 1$ (The US currency is the 'unofficial' currency of Cambodia) and ask where you are from. The reason they ask...they have memorized facts about all Westernized coutries including capitals, political leaders, common sayings and unusual tidbits. Intrepid strongly encourages you to purchase anything from a child under the age of 14, so while it was sad to do so, we climbed in the van and drove about 1.5 km away for a breakfast stop. About 2 min after we were seated, a breathless little boy came running up. The poor guy had chased our van in the hopes that we would by postcards. Still unwilling to bend on the not supporting of children begging rule, I invited him to breakfast with us.

With the help of Dino we were able to learn about the life of Phan, and other boys like him. He was a little nervous a first but opened up after a bit. Paul Phan Na is a 12 year old boy (he looks 8 if that) whose family lives near the Temples. He wasn't in school that day because the classroom space was needed for the 'highschool' academic competitions. Phan normally attends school in the am (there is not enough classroom space or teachers for the kids to go all day) and then sells postcards to tourists in the afternoon. His best earning day ever - $3. I asked what he did with the money; he takes it home to give to his mother. He has two older brothers who also sell souveniers and two younger brothers at home. His dad works as a tuk tuk driver and his mom stays home with the other children, except at lunch when she brings food to Angkor Wat for Phan and his siblings. Phan is in grade 5, he should be in grade 6 but he wasn't physically big enough, so they kept him back a year. His dream job when he gets old enough; tour leader. He told me that he would like to go to Canada so he could play - he once saw a photo of young boys throwing snowballs at each other and thought it might be fun, but was very nervous of the cold. I tried to get his address so I could send postcards, stupid me...no addresses to shacks. He, like all the kids there I suppose, could recite off the name of the Prime Minster of Canada, the names of Obama's kids and dog and tons of facts on the British Royal Family. He even gave Scott a G'day mate that sounded like Crocodile Dundee himself. After breakfast, he thanked us with a little bow and skipped away, off to try and break that $3 record I imagine. An amazing kid.

The rest of the day we saw just a small portion of the temples of Angkor, with the occasional monkey stop tossed in. You would apprechiate the absurdity at the monkey stop. A gaggle of tourists from India were trying to feed one of the monkeys, the monkey, a rather clevere species decided that it would rather have a toy. With that, he grabbed this man's cell phone and took off up a tree. I would have just called it a day there, clearly you have just been outsmarted by a primate, best just to scurry off in shame. But no - this guy dedcided that there was no way a monkey was going to beat him and retaliated by climbing the tree after the monkey! Just picture an out of shape Indian man, in 35 C heat, about 4 feet off the ground and trying, with much effort but without success to make it further up the tree. I guess the monkey realized that this could go on all day so he decided to end it. He smashed the cell phone in to bits and pieces and then dropped them down on the 'climber'. The remaining monkeys and toursits shared in a good laugh together that day.

It took us a total of 13 hours in the gruelling sun and heat to squeeze in the 'highlight' temples of Angkor Wat. The monkeys are entertaining. The temples are astounding, no words I type will ever do them justice. However, despite these centuries old ruins all around me, I was more impressed that day by a 12 y.o Cambodian wonder. Angelina or Brad - if you're reading this...do you have room for one more?

A-gun for reading!

p.s. Jason - you're right...