Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Let's try that again



While we were staying at the organic farm, I spent the evenings helping instruct english at the school they helped establish. Two back to back classes of 50 students made for exhausting evenings, but the eagerness of the students made it the most rewarding opportunity. And since the students were giving up their evenings after full school days, I figured giving a little time from my vacation was the least I could do. Five to ten minutes before the hour, our first class was already seated, squeezing onto the low wooden benches...filling up every space in the room. The lessons were simple, almost too simple, making it difficult to fill the hour sometimes. Basic converstation, numbers, time. The students repeated everything you said in unison...a deafening chorus of voices bouncing off the bare walls of the classroom. The ones with a greater english background would skip ahead a few lessons and call you over asking about pronunciation and definitions. In between classes, it was gridlock as the earlier class fought their way out the door and leaping through the windows....and the next class fought their way to the benches. They are obviously accustomed to having a new teacher every week, eagerly welcoming us at the beginning of the week...and anxiously asking us if we would return the following week. I was showered with thank-yous as I said goodbye at the end of the week, and had a nagging feeling of guilt as I biked away from the classroom and these dedicated kids. In a town that is exploding with tourism, english is essential to find these higher paying jobs.

Saturday, September 26, 2009

Dentistas Sin Limites











We rolled into an organic farm planning to do a little volunteer work, and somehow our visit coincided with a group of spanish dentists...and thus we spent our week as dental assistants in rural Laos. It was an incredibly rewarding experience setting up a new 'clinic' each day in a different village. We would use a school classroom that in a matter of 15-30 minutes would be transformed into a functional clinic. The majority of the work was extracting teeth, a table was set up full of tools to choose from to complete the job. An air compressor provided the drill and the air....plungers provided water flush...and a series of plastic bowls was used to sanitize the tools after use. The space was never the most ideal, but it all worked beautifully as seven dentists rolled up their sleeves and got to work. I have never come across braver children in my life. They would nervously enter the room taking in all the activity taking place around them. Sitting on chairs in which their feet didn't even reach the floor, they opened their mouths wide not knowing what was to happen next. Big needles with anesthesia and big pliers for the extractions, a noisy drill that they had never seen before in their lives. Their hands clenched into fists, their eyes bulged, sweat dripped from their brow...and occasionally silent tears ran down their cheeks. The boys sometimes flashed their extracted teeth at their friends. Everyone left with a big ball of gauze in their cheek and a saggy face from the anesthesia. At the end of the day, the teachers would force lao lao on us (local rice whisky) as a thank you. On one occasion, three teachers prepared a lunch for us. The classroom next to the 'clinic' was cleared out and a huge table was made out of desks. They anxiously scanned everyone's faces as we ate, and one teacher addressed us sharing her gratitude for the dentists' visit. She bashfully spoke about how they had little more to give than this meal of rice and chicken. It was their modest way of thanking the dentists. For us, it was beautiful to enter small villages not as tourists. And it was beautiful seeing so many different people contributing to make this happen.

Saturday, September 19, 2009

Teacher, teacher!



One remarkable evening we stumbled into just before we left Cambodia will be one of my lasting memories of our experiences there. As Tim and I were taking an evening stroll around the small town we were staying in (which served simply as a transit point for us), some young guys started chatting with us in english, eager to practice and bombarding us with the usual lineup of questions. They then asked us to come with them to their english class. Other than empty bellies we had no reason to say no, so we accompanied them to their class at the nearby pagoda. Thinking that we would simply sit in on their class, we chatted with other students wandering in to the bare classrooms. Soon the Buddhist monks who offer these free classes showed up and Tim and I soon found ourselves at the head of the two classes (Tim in the beginner class and I in the intermediate). Next thing I knew, the young adults in my class were raising their hands and inquiring, 'Teacher, what does this mean....Teacher, how do you say this?' I was handed a reading about a Buddhist festival we were in the midst of, and explaining their festival to them in english. It was a delightful learning experience for me, and the students were anxious to learn proper pronunciation and countless new vocabulary words. The monk gently interjected from time to time with questions of his own. The monks who have never had any formal training from a native speaker, welcome assistance in their modest school that they have gotten together to ensure local village children who cannot afford classes have the opportunity to learn english. So, what turned out to be an inspiring evening for us, I can only hope helped along a fledgling school full of eager students.

Thursday, September 17, 2009

Bolivan Plateau







After the most relaxing couple of days on the islands, we had to chase a little adventure again...by moto in southern Laos. We made our way up to the Bolivan Plateau to explore its ethnic villages, waterfalls, and coffee plantations. We cruised through lush mountains with thin clouds clinging to the hillsides and interrupting the sea of green. We saw some of the most beautiful waterfalls I have ever seen in my life....coming in every shape and size, each somehow outdoing the last (good thing we didn't do the circuit in the reverse direction!) Our most exciting waterfall however required two local guides that flagged us down as we drove through their village. These two fellows, no more than ten years old, spoke no english...other than 'waterfall'. We started down a slick muddy footpath that soon led to rock hopping and scrambling. The boys hopped along like gazelles moving nimbly amongst the rocks as Tim and I awkwardly negotiated the route, ashamed of just how clumsy we were. Th setting was absolutely magical, with no one around except for our two attentive guides who gave us plenty of space but always kept a watchful eye on our progress. Once we got as close as was 'safely' possible, we marveled at the sleek sexy waterfall tumbling over a massive wall...until the first raindrops fell. The same terrain that I had deemed quite slippery on the way in became incredibly treacherous on the return, it was impossible to get any traction as if the rocks were covered with a layer of oil. We slipped and slid, narrowly avoiding potentially serious injuries while the barefoot boys gracefully cruised over the rocks with such familiarity and confidence. I was so impressed by these two young guys, so composed and attentive, who lead us quite safely on a wonderful adventure without exchanging a word with us. After our tumbles, my laughter or smile seemed to reassure them that we were fine and we would saunter on. It was so beautiful arriving in a place that is still largely untouched and lead to such raw adventure.

The ultimate relaxation









Everyone had told us about how relaxed Laos is, but the reality of just how laid back it is was a bit of a shock. We arrived in perhaps one of the most relaxed corners of Laos in a region called the four thousand islands, a cluster of islands in the middle of Mekong River. Instead of people chasing us down and begging us to come to their guesthouse, we sauntered leisurely around the island until we found the bungalows calling our names. A bamboo bungalow perched over the Mekong with hammocks strung up on the porch would be our home for the next few days while we decompressed from a mentally challenging visit to Cambodia. It was just a breath of fresh air after the desperate tourism we had experienced the previous few weeks. Our first evening in Laos, we watched the sun set from the big gnarled roots of a tree hanging out over the muddy river. Locals came down to bathe in the calm inlet as the sun sank below the horizon and put on a beautiful display of oranges and pinks. Slender wooden boats plied the waters that transformed into golden ripples. It was one of those exceptional experiences that makes you treasure being on the road. We spent our days rambling around the islands on small dirt footpaths amongst the rice paddies and water buffaloes...and spent plenty of time enjoying the river drift by from the perfect horizontal vantage point of our hammocks.

Thoughts on Cambodia

Our time in Cambodia weighed heavily on me as a tourist. The people were beautiful, quick to smile and strike up conversation. But somehow the injustices of this world we live in came crashing down on me during our time spent there, and it was quite challenging traveling through the country. The tourism felt desperate, people were in great need and were hungrily awaiting a chance to serve you...but there were so many of them! So many tuk tuk drivers, so many young children selling books or bracelets, so many disabled people often victims of landmines, so many tour operators, so many people that wanted a slice of you....needed a slice of you. And with this desperate need comes desperate measures as people resort to drugs, prostitution, etc as a way to survive. While we didn't really witness this ourselves, most guesthouses has signs warning of penalties for tourists caught participating in such activities....which was enough reminder for me that it is so prevalent and simply a way of life for so many. It felt as if Cambodia was dealt all the wrong cards, and while the winners cheated....they got away with it. Justice is a long way off and people are making ends meet however they can. And yet they keep smiling! I just could not believe how readily people smiled, amongst themselves or welcoming us. I just got so trapped in this mental whirlpool of the injustice of it all and what I was doing there. I left the country mentally exhausted, but full of warm images of roadside waves and gorgeous smiles.

Monday, September 7, 2009

To be in a kitchen....







It was delightful taking a cooking class, not only to learn how to prepare Cambodian food, but also to sit behind a cutting board and have a knife in my hands. We don't really have any opportunities to cook while on the road. Hostels and guesthouses don't have kitchens at our disposal, so we are left hopping from one restaurant to the next. And while the cooking class was hardly the same as cooking at home, I was happy to take the next best thing. A couple of French Canadians, Aussies, and us made a trip to the market with our instructor, a young Cambodian guy quite comfortable in the kitchen...having learned to cook by watching his mom when he was quite young. And somehow when you are whipping up food under a guiding hand, it turns out just as you were hoping it would...and sometimes better! We prepared a coconut curry, chili beef served over a salad, and hot and sour chicken soup. After a trip to the market, wandering through stalls picking up plenty of fresh ingredients...produce, fish and meat...we set to chopping and preparing. A row of woks were awaiting us and we stood side by side as our curries sizzled, sweat ran down our faces, and the room filled with the sweet smell of coconut curry. We feasted on each of our dishes as soon as we scooped the food out of the woks, and were delighted by how easily we had thrown together these delicious meals. I'm hoping that once we are back home, I can still whip up these dishes and bring back memories of the tastes and smells of Cambodia!

Once again, looking ahead




It has been so fun and rewarding traveling through the countryside in Cambodia. With a violent, horrifying past in the back of your mind, it is amazing how kind, open, and gentle the people are throughout the countryside. We've taken two boat rides, and as we pass through villages along the riverside, we are met by squeals and eager "hellos!" as naked kids run and jump into the river or race along the banks beside our boat. Today, we ventured off on bicycles and by the end of the day my face was sore from smiling so much at everyone we passed. The young kids seemed so pleased to get a hello out of you and their smiles are absolutely mesmerizing. The ones I am most touched by though, are the old people who sit under their houses, smoking a cigarette, whose faces light up and melt into a smile when they see us biking past. A generation that stood witness to so many atrocities, but remain so open to others and seemingly so welcoming. It was a delightful afternoon exploring the countryside, passing wooden thatched-roofed houses raised on stilts. Hammocks hang limply in the shade underneath the house. Pots and pans are visible on the side of the house, where much of the cooking is done, as many of the houses are simple one room houses. Chickens peck around the bare dirt plots, and big bellied pigs lounge lazily in pens. Big Brahma cows munch tirelessly on collected fodder, and tired looking dogs and cats wander endlessly amidst their terrain....seemingly belonging to no one and everyone.

We spoke to one guy, just about our age, who was born in Thailand in a refugee camp and eventually came back to Cambodia with his family. He talked about the horrors of his country's past, but quickly added....'What good does it do to point fingers? We just have to look to the future and make a life for ourselves.' And it seems that is what so many people are doing and their warm and gentle smiles tell me that they are succeeding, despite continued hardships and challenges.

Flashback to the glory days











And then from the depths of Cambodia's recent history, we climbed to the height of its history during the Angkor period...and explored the ruins of Angkor Wat. The symbolic 5 towers of the temple of Angkor are found everywhere in Cambodia, from the flag and national beer, to just about every restaurant and guesthouse. There is great pride in the civilization that dominated the region (from the 9th-13th centuries) that Cambodians boast of today. The ruins stretch across the countryside, but we spent a beautiful two days exploring the densest concentration of temples by bicycle. It was so easy to lose ourselves in these incredible structures being reclaimed by nature. Surrounded by lush jungle, the ruins embody the everpresent battle between man and nature. A great civilization that thrived due to its ability to 'control' nature, manipulating water resources...ultimately became a victim of nature after years of drought. Then the jungle reclaims the territory it lost and flourishes once again. Huge trees laid claim to stone entryways and walls, dwarfing the magnificent structures, and weaving their roots between massive stone bricks. A particularly beautiful moment was standing in the middle of one of the more remote temples when it started to rain. We were at the base of a tower that no longer had a roof, and the raindrops flashed in the light before reaching us in the dark, damp, moss-covered confines of the temple.

Cambodia's dark past

Arriving in Phnom Penh, we dove straight into the heart of Cambodia's horrifying history...a necessary lesson in order to understand the country today. We visited two sites in particular that attempt to document and explain the autrocities that occurred under the reign of the Khmer Rouge from 1975-1979. The darkest side of humanity was expressed during the Khmer Rouge regime, which followed a challenging period of civil war and attacks from the US (related to VietNam war). During the period under Pol Pot's control, a quarter of the population was executed or died of starvation and disease. The regime banned money, entertainment of any sort, schooling, and just about anything you can imagine with the idea of creating a self-sufficient agrarian society. As the Khmer Rouge came to power, the cities were cleared out, and everyone was sent to the countryside to work in the fields. We visited one of the main detention centers and also the 'killing fields', the main execution center where people were sent after the torture and detention center.

S-21, the torture and detention center was a former school, no longer in use under the regime. We walked through rooms containing nothing more than the metal frame of a bed and torture implements laying on top. A solitary picture on the wall documented the horrifying torture practices that took place a couple of decades before in the very room we stood in. Following the long hallway and walking over the yellow and white tiled floor, you could imagine a school with classrooms packed with children, but the empty rooms told another story. Some rooms had black and white photos of the detainees. Hundreds of pairs of eyes staring back at you...some defiant, some full of fear...and others blank and lifeless. Young children, women, and older folks present alongside male detainees. Another building was full of makeshift cells where the detainees were kept. I was absolutely overcome by the confusion and absolute fear those detained must have experienced. Rain poured down as we made our way through the museum, much in the same state as it was when it was used as a detention center. Rain has such a cleansing power, and I felt as if the pouring rain, along with the many other showers that have fallen, are helping to wash away the stain that this place leaves on a population and its history.

Then we went to Choeng Ek genocide center (also known as the 'killing fields'), where nearly all the detainees were taken after varying stays at S-21. It is now a pockmarked landscape that was once a Chinese cemetery in the countryside outside of Phnom Penh. Still a peaceful area full of trees, with school children's voices giggling and yelling from the plot nearby, birds and frogs calling during a pleasant morning. But the quiet is full of untold stories and weighs heavy on you as you walk around the former mass graves and sites of executions. A memorial stands tall at the center of the site displaying the bones and clothes of the hundreds of victims whose lives were taken at this very location. A chance to recognize and honor the victims, an attempt to offer closure to their families...and yet another lesson for all so that these horrifying acts can never happen again.

And this atrocious history is still awaiting closure. The lead newspaper article that we picked up later that day spoke of the trial of the chief of the S-21 detention center. Nearly three decades later, and the process is moving at a snail's pace to bring justice to those responsible for the genocide that claimed nearly 2 million lives.

Although it was exhausting and heart wrenching visiting these museums, it has helped shape our understanding of this small country and what it is still recovering from.

Saturday, September 5, 2009

Shall we take a tour?

Our last day here in Viet Nam was a roller coaster for me...and I would like to blame my hormones, but I don't think they can take all the blame. With our time in Viet Nam dwindling, we opted to take a tour of the Mekong delta enroute to Cambodia. A two day excursion, we were enshrouded by a cloud of confusion from the moment we booked the tour. After being shuffled through several tour offices, we're not sure if we even ended up on the tour we signed up for. Just before hopping on an already packed bus, an agent asked us if it was alright if we took a bus to our final destination instead of a boat. Bags packed and ready to go, we had little choice but to agree. A 'refund' would mean an unnecessary extra day in Saigon. We sqeezed in like sardines to the last two seats in the back of the bus and joined the seathing sea of traffic as we worked our way out of Saigon. Once we reached the river, we spent a lovely couple of hours cruising around a floating market. Bundles of potatoes, lichees, watermelons, etc were heaved from one boat to the next. It was a giant produce distribution center rocking back and forth on the busy river. We slowly worked our way through narrow channels lined with mangroves and tropical fruit trees and lunched on an island surrounded by the lush vegetation. After lunch our tour guide said he would be dropping us off at the bus. We were under the assumption that the whole group was going by bus instead of boat to our destination near the border. Instead, there wasn't room on the boat for Tim and I, so we were sent along with this woman who came to retrieve us. I explicitly asked about our bags and where the bus would drop us off. We were told our bags would be brought along with the rest of the group and the bus would drop us right at the hotel. That answer satisfied me....for a while. The woman had us jump on the back of two motorbikes to be taken to the outskirts of town to catch the bus. We zipped along through traffic, although Tim's driver shot off and we lost track of them immediately. As the foreboding storm clouds built overhead, I was sensing that we had become part of a far from foolproof plan. Our motorbikes stopped on the side of the highway, and we waited as several full buses sped past without slowing. We were whisked up by one just before huge raindrops drenched everything. We joined a bus full of women with plenty of rowdy kids in tow. It was actually a beautiful drive along the riverside, past houses on stilts and people commuting in small boats and ferries. As we arrived to our destination (several hours later), the bus driver stopped and everyone seemed to know the word 'GO!'. We hopped out of the bus nowhere near the supposed 'floating hotel' we were told we would be dropped off at. We set off walking, and after a kilometer or so stumbled upon the hotel...having beaten our group. They arrived a short while later and everyone climbed out and the mountain of backpacks was unloaded...all except for ours. This was my breaking point as I had absolutely had it with all the shuffling and I was suddenly certain our bags had been misplaced along the way once no longer under our supervision. Before I had a chance to verbally assault our guide, calm-cool-and-collected Tim inquires about our belongings. Apparently our group was split between two hotels and our bags were awaiting us at the other hotel. It had been a long, unpleasant afternoon to say the least, in which very little had been communicated to us, and the information we did get had been quite misleading. I was still strung quite tight when we checked into our room and pondered dinner. The last thing I wanted was a crappy meal from the hotel restaurant, so we ventured out onto the lazy lane with a few small shops and restaurants run out of people's homes. As we walked along we were greeted by excited and curious 'hello's!!', and the couple running the tiny restaurant we ducked into seemed quite giddy by our presence and quickly began chopping and cooking as soon as we sat down. The man was beaming at us from the corner and even waved at us a time or two while we ate. Each spoonful of rice seemed to wash away my frustrations with the day, and by the end of the meal my mood had lifted entirely. We wandered the neighborhood before calling it a night and were met with more boisterous greetings and Tim received a jovial handshake. As we were returning to the hotel, we passed two young girls playing badminton. One girl insisted her friend give her racket to me so that she could test my skills. I proved to be a terrible opponent, but enjoyed one of the most memorable evenings in Viet Nam. Just when I thought we were going to leave Viet Nam with a sour taste in our mouths after a rocky day...we had some of the most beautiful interactions with people when we least expected it.
And just like describing a dream that seems so outlandish once you share it with someone else, my frustrations seem so trivial and silly upon sharing them, but they were so very real in the moment. The odd thing is that we are perfectly used to being dropped off having no idea where we are, but most of the time we haven't paid for a tour....so I have no expectations to deal with.