Cambodia

How to begin my trip to Cambodia and Thailand…

First off, for all of my friends and family who actually read this and haven’t spoken to me in the past year, I’M REALLY SORRY for neglecting the blog. Around September of last year, I was “not fired, but I could not come back” to my old school, Elite. The school was really struggling for money and I was the most junior teacher. So, for financial reasons, (and they found out I was teaching the kids about where to get a hotdog for a quarter after midnight and phrases like “God, Country, Notre Dame.”) I was "politely" asked not to return to school after my vacation in Japan last year. I am still extremely bitter about this as I lost a rather large chunk of money from it and I was treated very disrespectfully. However, a new leaf was turned, doors opened, blah blah blah and here we are, a year later. I was able to find a job in a timely fashion in an area very close, and very central in Seoul. Scholar Academy is a private school that teaches high school age kids who are planning to attend university in America. All of my kids are completely fluent in English and for the past year, I have been teaching English Literature, Language and Philosophy. The management of the school is American and I have been infinitely lucky with how my situation this time of last year has panned out. SO LUCKY, in fact, to have been able to afford an amazing trip to Southeast Asia…. Which is really what everyone wants to hear about. So without further ado…

I have divided this into different sections of the blog for reader convenience and it was too long for me to figure out how to post pictures with this size of post:

1. Cambodia

2. Bangkok

3. Koh Tao

Read some, read all, read none. I care not, but reader beware, I’m off my blogging game, so this may be a bit dry until I get my blog-mojo back.

We’re off to Cambodia.

A friend here once said to me, “Cambodia is my happy place.” An interesting sentence, but what does that mean? I hear that and I immediately think of the magic thought that was so elusive to Peter Pan (portrayed by master of the screen, Robin Williams) when he was trying to remember how to fly in the American 1991 classic Hook. One thought that can send him soaring through the air. As I traveled through Cambodia, even though I was only there for a short time, this became more and more true. Cambodia is a land that has been wrought by wars and genocide, subjected to cruel, abusive rulers, and plagued with disease and famine. But everywhere I looked, everyone I spoke to, every day I spent with them, the vibrancy and beauty of the people overwhelmed me. Mind you, the sadness and despair of a country with mountains of hardship to overcome was brutally ubiquitous. But through the sadness and despair, I saw the spark of determination; and I was buoyed with respect for the beautiful people of this beautiful country.

A few years ago, I spent a few months living and working in New Orleans. I saw the same type of spark. A city completely destroyed by Hurricane Katrina. Everywhere you looked were not just buildings, but former offices, shops, and homes that still bore the signs of water damage. I could literally see the level to which the water rose, settled and then receded. Most buildings still had the spray paint marks from when the coast guard searched the house after the storm. Driving through the streets and looking at houses was a crapshoot. One house was rebuilt and a car in the driveway, and to either side of it: abandonment. I lived in that city, worked with its people, and helped its children. One question kept occurring to me: why? Why return? Why come back? The answer is simple, but noble. This was home; they had roots; and for them, the question was: Why not? Why not come back? This spark of determination is the same spark I recognized in Cambodia. In New Orleans, it would have been easy to stay with your aunt in Texas or your grandparents in Alabama; but people returned and rebuilt. Think about the efforts that have gone to restore New Orleans to its former glory. Billions of dollars, thousands of volunteers. Cambodia doesn’t have anything near the amount of aid or resources that Americans have; yet they, too, fight. Every instance of contact with a native Cambodian, I felt humbled. Every time I stopped and asked for directions, was approached to buy a bottle of water, asked if I needed a taxi or some postcards, I was humbled. The resiliency of these people is something I came to envy and admire.

Now that I’ve really set the upbeat and lighthearted atmosphere…

I arrived in Phnom Penh from Seoul around 9pm and found a tuk-tuk from the airport to my first hostel of the trip. A tuk-tuk is like an open-air taxi. It’s a motorbike that has a covered seat attached to the back; not the safest way to travel, but cheap and fun. I was only in Phnom Penh for the next morning and the rest of the first full day in Cambodia was spent on a bus, making my way to Siem Reap.

What I saw of Phnom Penh was lovely. The buildings definitely have strong French influence in their architecture from when Cambodia was a part of the French Indochina colony. Immediately outside of Phnom Penh is all rural countryside until Siem Reap, where the temples of Angkor Wat are located. The countryside is breathtaking. Looking out of both sides of the bus was a postcard shot the entire way to Siem Reap. The landscape is luscious and pure green, the trees tall and houses quaint.

I arrived in Siem Reap in the early afternoon and easily found my hostel. The tuk-tuk driver from the bus station to the hostel was named October, a name he had chosen to adopt because Westerners, like myself, always disfigured his Khmer name. He was also my driver the next two days around to all the different temples. Accommodation, food, drink, internet, laundry and literally everything you need backpacking through Cambodia is available for about a dollar. The room was about 6 dollars/night, breakfast 2 or 3 dollars/morning, internet free in most restaurants and cafes, laundry was a dollar/kilo. October charged 10 dollars a day to drive me around to all the temples. He dropped me off at the entrance of a temple and just waited for me to take my time looking around and taking pictures, and then take me to the next temple. As affordable as any vacation is going to be.

The temples themselves were astounding. The oldest temples are Hindu and the, not newer, but less old temples are Buddhist. To the untrained eye, some of these temples are just piles of rubble, architectural child’s play in today’s world. However, these temples were built between 800 CE and 1400 CE, which is, give or take, about 1,000 years ago. The scale, size and complexity of the temples, and the surrounding cities were technologically impossible during their time. Actually walking through the temples was like reconnecting with people over a thousand years ago. The thought occurred to me, “Someone put these stones here and someone worked tirelessly to create what I’m now standing in, and that someone existed over a thousand years before I was born.” What could give you more perspective than that?

The temples of Angkor number in the thousands and I saw maybe ten over two days. The first day of temple exploration was spent on the bigger temples, Angkor Wat, Angkor Thom and a few others. I spent the second day touring the smaller temples. What’s most striking about these temples is not just the absolute mammoth size but also the tiniest carving details. Many of the stones used to build the temples were built to the Hindu god Vishnu or Shiva and the engravings on almost every stone are not just impeccably detailed but surprisingly well-preserved.

Each path to and from a temple was lined with dozens upon dozens of women and small children trying to sell visitors anything from bottles of water to postcards to bracelets to paintings. Obviously, I wanted to buy water from every single one of them not just because I wanted each of them to have one of my dollars, but also because Cambodia is HOT. I mean, HOT. And air-conditioning is proof that God loves us. But seriously, it was hot. So hot that I was humorlessly considering moving to Alaska.

Anyway, I have two stories to share about these precious children who were trying desperately to sell me things. The first was a very brief encounter with a small girl. As I was walking through one of the temples a few girls came up to me with dozens of small trinkets, trying to entice me to buy one of them. Almost immediately upon arriving in Siem Reap, I became really well acquainted with the “welcometomcdonaldsmayitakeyourorder”-Cambodian equivalent of “Hello pretty lady, you want bracelet? You want water? Cold water, I have cold water?” From a very young age, these children are taught to speak conversational English in order to sell things to tourists. They know their numbers, hello, where are you from, and so on. I passed this particular group of girls, trying my best not to get sucked in and then I came upon the smallest girl of the whole bunch. She was half-hiding behind a tree whispering to herself in the tiniest voice, “Hello pretty lady, you want postcard? Ten for one dollar. One, two, three…” and so on. But it didn’t sound like that and her eyes were following me as if she were working up the courage to approach me. It sounded like “heyo prey lay, you wan poseka? Ten fo un dolla, un two ree…” and so on. She had the most innocent eyes as she followed me walking and then I heard her say it over again, but she got the numbers out of order. Then she got the look, as if she had just farted in church, and then started over again. I wanted to give her a big hug and say, “Here, take all my money. And take the credit cards too. Actually, I don’t need these shoes; they’re too big for you, but you’ll grow.”

The second story happened on the second day as I was exploring one of the smaller temples. Of course, approaching the temple, there was a handful of girls trying to sell me things. In my mind, I had already decided I would buy a painting from one little stand and the girl there saw me looking. “Pretty lady, you’re so pretty. Pretty painting for pretty lady!” I said to her, “I’m sorry. I don’t speak English.” She looked at me like I was an absolute idiot, “Why you say you don’t speak English; you speak English to me right now!” And the way she said it was hilarious, almost like she was annoyed at me for saying something so outrageously stupid. And she was about 12. I don’t know if you’ve ever been spoken down to by a 12-year-old, but it’s a pretty great experience. So she starts asking me where I’m from and what’s my name. And I kept saying things like “I wish I understood you, but I can’t because I’m not from America and my name is not Meg and I don’t speak English!” The smiles she gave me were priceless. Finally, I said, “Ok, I’m going to go visit the temple, and when I come back, if you remember my name and where I’m from, maybe I’ll buy something.” So she said, “Go! You go. You come back. I remember. You go. You come back. I remember.” I went. I came back. And she remembered. As I browsed the paintings to see what I wanted, she gave me a coke, a chair to sit in and she started playing with my hair. She asked me what my job was and I told her that I was a teacher. She looked at me and she said, “Me too. When I get big, I want to be a teacher.” I felt my heart break a little; I smiled and I said, “Good. We need smart teachers, just like you.”

The next day I headed to the border town of Poipet in a taxi. It was only about an hour drive and the time flew as my driver was queuing up such hits as “Grease Lightning” performed by Danny and the T-Birds from everyone’s favorite musical Grease and “Separate Ways” from late (late as in later, not deceased) 70’s American rock band Journey. Two must-haves on everyone’s Road Trip playlist.