A Promise Kept...

Ban Na Village, Laos

July 18, 2007
N 20°41.836
E 102°42.307

We were lured to Northern Laos by Roger Vanderbeek, who we met in Torres del Paine National Park towards the beginning of our trip. Roger told us about the fresh air, the untouched, green countryside and about the beautiful people. We heard stories about the village of Ban Na and how the town had minimal electricity during his first visit, there wasn’t a single TV in the village, no cars, scooters or boats, and it was an area very few tourists had discovered. The picture Roger painted of the remote mountain village, surrounded by lush green rice paddies, sounded like a place we couldn’t miss.

Roger also told us about his adopted family in Ban Na, the owner’s of OBI Guesthouse (Obi is the boy in the picture below). Roger stayed with the family a few years ago and actually transported their son Aku to Luang Prabang for a hernia surgery that instantly relieved years of pain and only cost Roger a few dollars.

Our journey to Ban Na was more than a stay in the countryside, but we were delivering an important package from Roger to his family in Ban Na. The package contained enough money to send at least one of the kids to school for a year. This was at least the third time Roger has provided educational assistance to the family.

We walked to Ban Na yesterday to make sure we could find it and the family. We introduced ourselves to Kim, the mother of the four beautiful children, and told her we were friends of Roger. We let her know we had a package from Roger that we would bring back the following day and stay the night—we promised an early arrival.

We woke up fairly early and headed out with our daypack and slingbags for the overnight trip to Ban Na. We decided to keep our room in Muang Ngoi Neua to store our gear; we figured the extra $1.50 a night wouldn’t break our budget and would lighten our load for the trek.

We hit the slippery, single track, muddy trail at about 9:00 AM. We crossed two streams, checking our legs for leeches after each crossing. In some stretches the red, sticky, mud sucked at our feet. In others the mud was slick as ice, fresh from the overnight rain. We treaded cautiously through the jungle until we reached vast fields of rice paddies with ankle deep water (and more worry of leeches). After about 3 miles we came upon an open rice field with picturesque sandstone mountains covered with green trees and shrubs.

Little ladies worked in the rice fields, pulling out the clover in between the rice stalks. We weaved our way through the rice patties on the little levees, gradually ascending from one plateau to the next, until we reached the gate for Ban Na. We already knew the place we were looking for, OBI Guesthouse, was at the far end of the village.

We met Kim and three of the children—Em, Aku and Tye—under the canopy of the restaurant. The youngest child, Obi, was over at the new school monitoring the progress of the construction. Before delivering the package, we took another look at the sweeping views from the restaurant; the rice fields and mountains in the distance, spotted with little bungalows—used for shelter during the harvest—were breathtaking.

A few minutes later Marc pulled out a Ziploc with the envelope that read “From: Roger Vanderbeek” and handed it to Kim. Em came over to help open the envelope and pulled out the money. Her eyes were as wide as saucers. We could tell she was stunned. She counted it and fell to her knees, almost in disbelief. There was no question among the kids what the money was for—they were able to attend another year of school.

A little later we met Louie and Eve, a young Dutch couple helping with the construction of the school, and they told us about the conversations the family had regarding school the night before. We discovered there was some serious concern about money to pay for school for the older two, Em and Aku. The money from Roger immediately remedied their problem.

We spent the afternoon lounging around the deck of the restaurant, taking a break to check out the construction of the new school, and playing cards with Em and Eve. I learned a new game and tried to teach all of the kids the game of “Go Fish” before dinner.

We were treated to a special family dinner for delivering good news. Everyone gathered around the main course, roasted chicken stuffed with sticky rice, and put one hand on the tray. As we had our hands on the tray, the eldest family member, Kim’s dad, lead us in a type of prayer, Grace for Buddhists.

After the prayer was finished, we cupped our hands and waited for an offering from the eldest. We received a piece of chicken with a chunk of sticky rice. When everyone had a piece we ate it. Next, they normally serve Lao Lao to guests, but we were pleased to find out they didn’t have any in the town. (We didn’t want any part of that stuff after seeing the guys on the boat!) Instead we shared a Lao Beer, wished everyone good luck, and drank the warm beer kind of like a shot. We polished off the beer, grabbed the serving dish for another prayer, and then each family member started tying good luck strings on our wrists. We received an equal number on each arm promising us luck and prosperity in the near future.

Sharing a traditional Lao meal with the family was truly special as we rolled our sticky rice in our hands and picked at the tasty dishes in front of us to go with the rice. There were two types of soup—morning glory and mushroom—chicken in a spicy broth and a side of spicy morning glory. Everything was very tasty and we complimented Kim and Em on their culinary skills.

We felt we did our part in the good deed by delivering the money; however, we got the best end of the deal since we were able to meet the family and enjoy the beautiful countryside. The entire family is anxious for Roger to visit again, but they felt his presence as we passed through—apparently, just in time. Roger is known as PaPa to the family, but this time his kindheartedness came from the Buddha and brought the family the good luck they need to get through another year.

Life On the River...

Muang Ngoi Neua, Laos

July 17, 2007
N 20°42.573
E 102°40.446

The stunning views from the Vita Guesthouse made up for the sparse accommodations. We didn’t come to Muang Ngoi Neua looking for luxury, but instead we came to see the untouched countryside and enjoy life without scooters and cars—at least for a few days. Of course we also came here because we made a promise to our friend Roger.

Our room, or bungalow, sat right on the river’s edge with views of the mountains from every direction. In the afternoon we took advantage of the hammocks on the patio, enjoying the serene setting, with only a few sounds—the thup-thup-thup-thup of a boat’s motor and a rooster’s crow in the distance.

Our simple, bamboo thatched, bungalow was about 8’x10’ with a light bulb hanging from the ceiling by two wires; it worked between 7:30 PM and 9:30 PM (as does electricty for the rest of the village), a double futon-like pad, a small table and a mosquito net—what else do we really need? The shared facilities had a simple squat toilet. The shower was a large trough full of water and a plastic scooper for dumping the water over your body. It didn’t get off all of the dirt, but it did cool us down a little bit at the end of the day, and if you scrubbed hard you came out cleaner than when you went in.

At night, mangoes from the tree over our bungalow jolted us out of our deep sleep as they fell on our tin roof with a thundering crash. The first one bolted me straight up in bed as it sounded like an explosion, but after the first two or three blasts I become used to them only waking briefly.

The silence all around us was so beautiful that we didn’t mind an occasional mango trying to disrupt our sleep. The sleepy village is definitely worth the visit to get out of the chaos of the larger cities in South East Asia.

Rolling With the Locals...

Muang Ngoi Neua, Laos

July 16, 2007
N 20°42.573
E 102°40.446

Today was a travel day; we knew it would be a hard one. We had to take a bus four hours to a remote northern village where we would then catch a boat. The boat would take us upstream on the Man Ou River for a little over an hour; ultimately reaching our destination, Muang Ngoi Neua. This is if everything went as planned, and as we know, the best part about a travel day is we usually get a good story, especially when there are buses involved.

When we arrived at the bus station we discovered the “bus” wasn’t really a bus, but a Sawngthaew, a common mode of transportation in Laos. Essentially, a pick-up truck whose bed, a Toyota sized bed not an F-150, had been converted into local transportation. Both sides of the bed are lined with wooden bench seats, about two feet wide, barely fitting my butt. Overhead is a makeshift “roll bar” covered with metal siding to protect the happy customers from the heat and rain. In addition, it may protect the occupants from being tossed into oncoming traffic if the driver loses control and hits one of the many 18” deep pot-holes that plague the “highway”. Additionally, the roof of the “bus” served as a luggage rack; where the happy customer’s luggage is securely tied down.

Fourteen of us, mostly locals, climbed into the bed, staked out our spot on the bench, and got comfortable for the four hour ride. Of the tourists, there was one American from Connecticut and two English girls, one of which looked ready for afternoon tea and crumpets with mum on the veranda. Her freshly applied make-up and cute little jean skirt grabbed more than a few looks from the locals and the Westerners.

A little over an hour into the trip along the serpentine road the UCONN guy made a desperate plea for the driver to pull over—I knew the look. Marc banged on the cab and got the driver to pull over. The guy jumped out the bed of the truck and high tailed it to the bushes where he proceeded to get sick. The guy was kind enough to hide what he had for breakfast to himself. We offered him some Dramamine when he got back in the truck, but he politely declined. I went back to reading my book.

Another hour into the trip I started to get a little headache, this is when we realized the guy across from us was carrying a liter of kerosene in a plastic bottle back to his village. The bottle was leaking and we could tell from the look on his face and his glossy eyes that he was pretty f’d up. We tried to convince him to get rid of the bottle, others were suffering at this point, but his family was dependent upon him—he couldn’t just toss it. Marc banged on the cab again for the driver to pull over—we at least wanted to put the stuff on the roof—but the driver told him to cover it in a plastic bag. It was a good thing we had natural air conditioning or all of us would have either had a gas high, or have been dead.

After huffing kerosene for four hours and taking a severe ass-whooping from the potholes we finally made it to Nong Khiaw; the village where we had to catch the boat. We now had a few hours to kill before the boat departed at 2:00 PM. We spent the time sitting on a restaurant patio that overlooked the river. We watched the local kids, with their baskets of soap, headed down to the Nam Ou for their daily bath. The younger kids would strip down, the older ones would leave on some clothes, jump into the water to get wet, climb back out to lather up, and then jump in again to rinse off. A few of the kids weren’t more than four, jumping into the Nam Ou without a life guard, or parent, in sight.

After the “bus” ride we were actually looking forward to a tranquil cruise up the Nam Ou. However, when we finally boarded the boat we realized we may be in for another adventure. The vessel was 3 feet wide and probably 20 feet long. It had a roof, but not much of a bottom, as the water splashed, our clothes got a little wet from underneath.

The boat, like the bus, had two long, hard wooden benches for people to sit. We had to sit off center to prevent from bumping knees with the person sitting across from us. The boat was fully loaded with 18-20 people, plus luggage. The boarding process was the normal chaos we have grown accustomed to from our travels in South America and now into South East Asia; just sit back relax, watch and laugh. There was a slight delay when two of the locals wouldn’t get on the boat. The lady, baby in tow, kept yelling at someone. We weren’t sure what was upsetting her, but she definitely was mad about something. When her husband and his buddy, or possibly father, got on the boat we realized what was upsetting the lady.

I could instantly tell both of the men were three sheets to the wind. They stumbled onto the boat as jolly as can be. The younger guy was resting his arm on the tourist next to him as he leaned over to argue with his wife. The other man fell down and sprawled out on a small open patch of deck near the driver.

Fifteen minutes into the trip, the older guy next to the driver, who must have been in his 60s, decided to lie down and try to sleep. We would tell the dreaded Spins had set in and he was in trouble. Sure enough, less than a minute later, he was pulling himself back up and over the side of the boat. His friend, directly across from Marc and I, was laughing at his buddy hurl his lunch and Lao Lao (rice wine) into the river and then asked the driver for a cigarette.

It was probably another twenty minutes into the trip when the guy across from us, probably done in by the smoke, was over the edge puking. Lucky for us, he was on the opposite side of the boat, and didn’t have to worry about the wind catching the remnants of the Lao Lao and bringing the chunks back into the boat.

After a few more minutes the young guy realized his buddy looked very comfortable and crawled to the front of the boat and passed out on his friend. The site of them curled-up and snuggling gave all of the tourists a good laugh. The two of them, were out-cold at 2:30 PM on a Monday afternoon and actually were still on the boat after everyone got their stuff and left, including the young guys wife and baby. I think it was a good lesson for everyone on the boat… stay away from the Lao Lao!

Another Hot Day in LP...

Luang Prabang, Laos

July 15, 2007
N 19°53.486
E 102°08.302

Today, our third and last full day in Luang Prabang, was spent seeing the sites we kept walking by our first few days, but consciously said we would visit on another day. Specifically, we didn’t visit any of the temples because the first day was too hot, I wanted to wear shorts and a tank top, not a skirt and t-shirt as required when visiting a temple. Of course, today wasn’t any cooler, but we didn’t want to miss the sites over something as silly as my clothing or sweltering heat.

After a cup of hot coffee and a light breakfast, our first in at least five days, we headed out to see the Royal Palace Museum, climb the mountain to see Phu Si and then, if I have my way, we can cool off with a traditional Lao massage at the end of the day.

The museum, located in the King’s palace, featured incredible gifts from all over the world separated into groups depending on if the country is socialist or capitalist. The gifts from the US include a small moon rock and a miniture Lao flag that went to the moon with Apollo 11, as well as a few small trinkets from John F. Kennedy—nothing as spectacular as the Buddhist sculptures from India or the painting from Nepal’s Royal Family.

After the museum we headed across the street to climb the 190 stairs to the top of Phu Si. The number of stairs reminded us of the Filbert Street stairs we tackle during some of our training runs at home; however, these stairs weren’t as physically demanding. I do have to say with the heat and humidity though; the stairs were as mentally challenging. After we climbed to the top of the mountain, we were afforded 360 degree views of the Mekong Delta, the Nam Khan River and the Laos countryside.

Not only did we have spectacular views, but we were able to visit the temple and pay respect to the numerous Buddhas—one for every day of the week. We really took our time strolling around the temple and working our way back down the steps. We really couldn’t move fast since the temperature was tipping near 100 F and the humidity from the rain clouds on the horizon made it feel like we were walking in a sauna.

It was about this time I convinced Marc the best way to spend the rest of the afternoon was to get a massage. I had a traditional Laos massage a few days ago and told him how relaxing it was; especially for only $3 per hour. Since we were together, we decided to bust-loose and splurge for the full two-hour massage; for a whopping $5.

Shortly after changing into the loose cotton pants and massage shirt, I realized why Marc agreed to the massage. Normally, he’s not real hip to getting a massage from complete strangers. However, there was no way he could resist laying directly under a fan for two hours in a moderately cool room.

I should mention, our Guest House, the only one available when we arrived, doesn’t have AC, only a ceiling fan. The fan, even at its highest speed, doesn’t provide a lot of relief from the heat and humidity. After checking the temperature in our room over the past few days we determined the average temperature was between 85-90 F; which doesn’t include the wind-chill factor from our shitty ceiling fan. Our only remedy is to take a cold shower at least three times a day.

Thus, the massage was the best way to cool off after another extremely oppressively hot day.

Tomorrow we leave Luang Prabang and start visiting some very remote villages in the northern part of Laos. Our internet access will be very limited until close to the end of July when we arrive at our first stop in Thailand, Chiang Rai.

Tuk-Tuk Knows Best...

Luang Prabang, Laos

July 14, 2007
N 19°53.486
E 102°08.302

During our walk the previous day we heard every tuk-tuk driver offer trips to the waterfall. “A must see,” they all said. I guess when you hear something enough times you start to believe it. So, we figured we had to see the much hyped waterfall. We negotiated a rate with a tuk-tuk driver who roamed around in front of our guesthouse and he said he would be at our place the next morning at 9:00 AM. Perfect.

Our tuk-tuk driver was waiting for us as we walked out the door at 9:02 AM. The plan was to pick up another couple and stop at a local village before the main event, Kwang Si Waterfall.

After our driver made a quick stop at the local temple for his daily prayer, we stopped at a small village where they sold handicrafts. The crafts were sold by young children most of them girls from 3-7 years. On a few occasions the young children were barely able to walk, too young to talk, but they were holding up the handicrafts and pushing them on the tourists.

Little boys ran around rolling bicycle tires with sticks, others pushing long sticks through the hard dirt; imitating their fathers plowing rice fields with their water buffalo and wooden plow. We thought of kids at home around their age; worried about getting the next Nintendo or PlayStation, not money for their next meal.

During our drive up the mountain to the waterfall we passed lush green forests, perfectly terraced rice fields up the side of the mountain and small villages with a dozen thatched roof houses and children running around naked. The countryside of Laos is different than Vietnam and Cambodia because of the numerous mountains which are visible from every angle.

We didn’t expect much from the waterfall. Yes, we heard it was a must see, but after waterfalls in other countries, including our own, we think we have seen the best of the best. We walked through the gates of the waterfall, a popular picnic place for locals (similar to the one in Cambodia), and headed out on the 10 minute trek to the falls.

Before we even reached the falls we came across a cage filled with Asiatic Black bears. The bears were saved from poachers who believe their organs have medicinal value. After we watched the bears play for a few minutes we walked closer to the falls; however, we didn’t get very far before we met Phet, an Indochinese tiger, also rescued from poachers. We loved the signs all around the tiger’s cage—“Danger. The tiger bites.” “Don’t put fingers in fence.” Uhhhh…. No shit!

We finally started up the trail toward the falls. We reached a small, crystal blue pool of water with a small fall trickling into it. “This can’t be it,” we said to each other. We kept walking and came to another pool of water, just as pristine as the first. Both of these pools were labeled “swimming areas” and there were several picnic tables in the area. The majority of the tables were still available since it was around 10:30 AM.

We kept walking up the path still expecting more. About 100 meters later, we saw the real waterfall, a 80 meter drop into another aquamarine pool. There were bridges stretched across the pool of water for optimal viewing and small foot-paths leading to the top of the falls.

We decided to follow one of the paths even though Marc said waterfalls don’t look like anything from the top—think about Nevada Falls or Vernal Falls in Yosemite. Yes, good point, but I was out for the exercise after a few days of being under the weather. Marc was right, the view sucked, we told others coming up, but they still had to see it for themselves.

After our climb to the summit of the falls we headed back down to one of the swimming areas for a dip in the water. The water was actually cool and Marc commented that it was the coolest his core body temperature has been in over a month. We stayed in the water for awhile enjoying the break from the humidity before climbing out to dry off.

We relaxed at the pool for several hours chatting with a couple that shared the tuk-tuk with us; a French lady and Swiss man. After several hours of relaxing and watching the local children play in the pools we were ready to head back to Luang Prabang. However, the couple was obviously very relaxed, still had at least a half a pack of cigarettes each to smoke, and were generally enjoying themselves.

At around 3:00, and down to their last 2-3 cigarettes, the couple decided to jump back into the water. We told them we would meet them at the park entrance—we were going to get a sandwich. We just finished our sandwiches when they finally exited the park to the relief of our driver, who was obviously ready to roll.

We made idle chit-chat with the couple before we arrived back in Luang Prabang. They asked to meet us for dinner, but we gave them a very non-committal response—not because we didn’t like them, they seemed like nice people, but after a day in the sun, and two packs of second hand smoke, we were ready to relax and cool off some more.

The trip to the waterfalls was definitely a must see in Luang Prabang; tuk-tuk drivers always know best.

Ahhh, the Sound of Silence...

Luang Prabang, Laos

July 13, 2007
N 19°53.486
E 102°08.302

It was 6:30 PM, 32 degrees Celsius and at least 90% humidity. It felt like it was only getting hotter.

Luckily, we didn’t have any “complications” with Marc’s passport and Visa upon entry into Laos. W didn’t even have to pay an extra “convenience” fee like in Cambodia.

However, after we struck-out at our first two picks for lodging we were scrambling. We looked around and saw we were just one of at least half a dozen backpackers looking for a place to stay for the evening. Unfortunately, I was getting a major rumbling down below and a there was an extreme sense of urgency. We knew we needed a room with a private bathroom (which is uncommon) for obvious reasons and it had to be least under $25 a night.

After wandering the streets of Luang Prabang for at least 45 minutes a young boy on a bicycle approached us, “You need room? $6?.” Marc asked him if the room had a private toilet and he said yes... that was all it took. We followed our young savior to the Kinnesy Guesthouse. Marc took a quick tour of the Spartan room and hollered out to me on the street, “This is where we’re staying tonight.” No air-conditioning, but it does have a ceiling fan, clean sheets, and a private bathroom with lukewarm water. Luxury!

Our first day in Luang Prabang was very low key. After waking up with a few kinks in my back and neck, I decided to take advantage of one of the several massage spas in the area. The average cost for one hour is around $3—very difficult to turn down. I went to the spa nearest to our guest house and told them I wanted work done on my neck and shoulders. Yes, we have been through this before in Vietnam.

I was pleased to discover the typical massage in Laos is similar to the Thai Massage where you dress in a little cotton suit prior to the massage. The massage consists of a lot of stretching; exactly what I needed after climbing the temple stairs in Siem Reap for a few days and frantically trudging around with my backpack the day before.

The best part of the whole massage was I didn’t have the uncomfortable feeling that I got from “Bob’s Place” in Vietnam. There was no need to clinch the butt cheeks or look over my shoulder and find a gnat with a towel over his head vigorously shaking my boot—all very legit.

The city has a unique layout centered between two rivers—the Mekong Delta and Nam Khan. We took a walk along the Delta side until we reached the round-about that took us on the Nam Khan side of town. We stopped on occasion to admire the vegetation and beautiful countryside in the near distance and just listen to the quiet.

The French, who colonized much of South East Asia, have a famous quote about the people in the region… “The Vietnamese plant rice, the Cambodians watch it grow, and the Lao listen to it grow.”

As we walked around today, we found the Lao people to be extremely laid back, relaxed, and without much outward emotion. A very nice change from other cities we have been in during the past month.

The Big D Shuffle...

Siem Reap, Cambodia

July 11, 2007
N 13°24.747
E 103°51.822

We’ve been on the road for a little shy of six months and have fortunately stayed very healthy. We had a few sniffles in Chile and I fought off a cold on my trip back to the States recently, but we haven’t had any stomach problems… until now.

We expected at least a little food illness in South America, but we walked away clean after 2 ½ months. When we took the risk and ate on the streets of Hanoi and Nha Trang, we thought we might catch something—nope. We were fine until we hit Cambodia.

We are pretty sure the meal that did us in was with the locals the other night. They served a plate of fresh vegetables—peeled carrots, cucumbers, and something called banana leaf (we don’t really remember)—a big no, no when traveling in foreign countries. Yes, everything was peeled, but we don’t know if they were washed again in local water. We dipped the fruit in the dried fish, lemongrass, chili and lime concoction; however, there probably wasn’t enough lime juice to kill any thriving bacteria.

The good news is we aren’t puking our brains out and burning through rolls of toilet paper. Instead we’re just a little uncomfortable at times, eating light, and keeping a strategic eye-out for the closest bathroom at all times. I guess this is when the SEAsia 10 will finally come off!

We were able to stroll around and explore the rest of Siem Reap during our last day, but we also did a lot of relaxing. This was perfect after three jammed-packed days of temples, waterfalls, and floating villages; plus we really weren’t in the mood to do the Big D shuffle.

We’re off to Laos on Thursday where we’ll spend four nights exploring Luang Prabang before heading north into the countryside (PLEASE NOTE: internet access WILL NOT be available).

What a Beautiful Country...

Siem Reap, Cambodia

July 10, 2007
N 13°24.747
E 103°51.822

It was a good thing we went to bed early last night since we had another early morning with Mey and Lin for our trip to the mountains. We were headed to Phnom Kulen National Park which is located roughly 2 hours from Siem Reap. Promised sights for the day included a fabulous waterfall, a temple with a giant sleeping Buddha and the river of 1000 Lingas.

After the long, curvy, drive up the pot-holed mountain road we headed straight to the temple of the sleeping Buddha. The Buddha was discovered after the Pol Pot regime was finally dissolved. Nearly 25 years ago the mountain area was a camp for the soldiers of the regime and many of the religious monuments were banished or destroyed. Additionally, the army decimated the surrounding jungles by planting thousands of landmines in order to deter the Vietnamese army from aiding Cambodia; we were told to stay on the marked paths since many active mines still exist. Today the area is once again a thriving hub of dedicated Cambodians that come to pray to their beloved Buddha.

After a quick stop at the river of 1000 Lingas we headed to the waterfall area. The waterfall, a very popular spot for locals to come and picnic after visiting the temple, has covered, wooden platforms about 10’ x 10’ with sitting mats on the floor. It’s common to bring an ice chest full of cold drinks and order lunch from the locals; famous for their roasted chicken.

During our picnic we were entertained by the local kids. They ran around butt naked, - swam in the river, and jumped up and down shaking a suspension bridge every time an adult or tourist tried to cross and, well, we watched them be kids. Every now and then one would walk by us, smile and say hello. After we responded, they would giggle, and run away.

It was also during lunch when we met a young lady snapping pictures of the local children. We could tell she was American. She stopped to talk to us and told us she was from Cleveland. She was traveling with her childhood friend and her friend’s family. The family escaped from Cambodia in 1980 after leaving an internment camp set-up by the Pol Pot regime. The family experienced first hand the devastation handed down to the local people by the crazy government. They were lucky enough to live through the experience, unlike the three million people who were killed by the government.

However, the whole family didn’t make it to the USA, and part of the reason for the return was to pay respect to their father. The father stepped on a landmine as the family escaped Cambodia, on foot, to the Thai border. This was their first visit back to Cambodia since 1980 and they held a small memorial service in honor of him. The short conversation was very touching, hearing first hand how the government destroyed a life, but luckily the family was able to start a new one in America.

The Pol Pot regime is such recent history that it still impacts the country, setting them back in time, making it harder to catch up technologically and economically to their neighboring countries. When we visited the Killing Fields, one of the smaller ones in the country, we left with tears in our eyes as a young man told us of his hardship. He explained he was going to school and getting an education, something his people couldn’t do under the Pol Pot regime. The regime that wanted to start a Communist state beginning at Year Zero—killing doctors, lawyers, teachers and anyone else with an education or opinion that may bring dissent.

It was another long day for us, we were exhausted at the end, but we had a great time and experienced more of the rich Cambodian culture. Our time in Cambodia was short; however, we saw a lot in our time here… every minute was worth it.

A Day at the Temples...

Siem Reap, Cambodia

July 9, 2007
N 13°24.747
E 103°51.822

The many temples, including the famous Angkor Wat, around Siem Reap are what draw the tourists to the area—they were the main draw for us too. However, after arriving we were also pleased to find a more serene town without the mad frenzy of Saigon. The locals are friendly, have a sense of humor and are more than willing to show you around the town and surrounding temples.

We decided to give one of the local tuk-tuk drivers a job for the day, allowing us to see the temples, and enjoy the fresh air from the carriage being pulled by his motorbike. Our driver putted along the country roads, passing rice fields and schools located in tiny villages throughout the countryside.

As soon as we stepped out of our tuk-tuk at our first stop, the Lady Temple, a group of young girls came up with their trinkets. “Lady, Lady… you buy a cold drink from me?” or “Lady, Lady… you buy a star, flute, tiny Buddha (fill in the blank) from me?” I politely declined, but they persisted “if you buy a drink, trinket, etc. you buy from me, my name is Thaliah.” As they each told me their name, I tried to make it clear I didn’t need any goods… except for maybe the cold drink.

The Lady Temple, or Banteay Srei, was truly amazing with all of the intricate detail. The perfectly sculpted sandstone changed colors from rose, to grey, to black throughout the temple since it was built between 967-1000 AD. This was our first temple and it already exceeded our expectations. Marc and I were snapping pictures like crazy; trying to capture the experience as much as possible, but at the same time knowing words and photos will never capture the beauty of the temple. We knew the rest of the day would be special.

After we left Lady Temple the young girls were still outside waiting for us. I found my “cold drink girl” and made my purchase. This did not go over well with the other darlings who were selling trinkets I didn’t need. They stood around me, melting me with their sad eyes, telling me they don’t have money for books, pens, paper or food for school. I had a tear in my eye as we drove away from the beautiful children knowing we can’t help all of them and giving cash encourages begging.

We visited several other temples throughout the day including Ta Prohm which is best known from the movie “Tomb Raider.” The temple, built from 1186, is in the beginning phases of a much needed restoration. Currently, the temple is rubble and jungle with the exception of the Tomb Raider Tree, a tree growing out of the top of the temple. It was worth the stop, but not necessarily our favorite temple of the day.

We climbed back into the tuk-tuk, passed by a few more temples and started to focus on the grand finale, Angkor Wat. However, before we made the entrance to the crème-de-crème we had to make a stop at Angkor Thom.

Angkor Thom has three temples within the two spectacular gates to the compound. Our tuk-tuk driver took us through the East Gate which had less traffic and allowed better photo opportunities. We drove past a few of the highlights before coming to Bayon. Bayon, one of the newest temples, was constructed from 1177 to 1230. The intriguing design consists of numerous faces looking down upon the people in the temple and the surrounding countryside. From every angle it’s possible to see a full face, a profile, or at least the back of a head. The faces are rumored to resemble the face of the King who ordered the construction. From the temple he could look down and keep an eye on all of his subjects.

It was getting late in the afternoon at this point and we wanted to allow enough time to enjoy Angkor Wat, so we jumped back in the tuk-tuk to make the drive for our final stop of the day which we were hoping to hit at sunset.

When we drove up to the temple of all temples, Angkor Wat, we immediately noticed the very large moat filled with water surrounding the temple. The moat, 627 feet wide, is a rectangle that actually measures 1.5 KM by 1.3 KM. The moat itself is larger than any other moat in history.

As we walked across the giant moat we looked at the temple standing in front of us. It looked impressive; however, it appeared to be smaller than we expected. As soon as we walked through the main gate and gazed down the long promenade, we knew the view from the outside was very deceiving. The promenade must have measured at least 1 KM with libraries, wading pools and the headquarters for the ongoing restoration efforts. It was simply enormous!

When we finally reached the main entrance we turned upon the bas-reliefs, stretching along the walls of the halls. Intricate murals, chiseled directly into the sandstone and lacquered for protection, stretched from floor to ceiling, outlining a different part of ancient Angkor history. For example, one of the murals depicted the separation between heaven and hell, whereas others portrayed parts of history including battles. The three dimensional designs extended the entire perimeter of the main complex.

After nearly 40 minutes of getting lost in the intricacy of the bas- reliefs, we continued to explore the different sections of the temple. We made sure to stop and sit several times, simply attempting to take in the awesome project. There were a few times we even found a corner of the temple without any other tourists where we sat in amazement while pointing out the dark jungle just outside of the compound walls.

We continued to stroll around the temple, at times crawling on our hands and knees to ascend and descend steep flights of stairs, for nearly three hours. Finally we had to admit we were too exhausted to continue and made our way back towards the main gate, looking back over our shoulders every few minutes. Stunning.

Overall, the temples exceeded our expectation; especially the vast size and elaborate designs, making us ask the question… how did they do this so many years ago? I guess that is what makes the visit to a historical site so special and leaves us with the desire to see more.

A Day On the River...

Siem Reap, Cambodia

July 8, 2007
N 13°24.747
E 103°51.822

Today was our first full day in Siem Reap and we were ready to explore. Originally, we planned to hit the temples for a half-day. However, after our driver explained that a half-day would only scratch the surface we decided to take a city tour and a cruise of the floating markets.

We’ve been to other cities with floating markets, like Bangkok, but those are set up more for the tourists, they aren’t true living situations for the locals. In Cambodia, the people who live in the floating markets are for real—that is where they live, go to school, eat, and struggle to make a living. The majority of the families fish the river and sell their catch to the local markets.

Shanty villages, surrounded by rice patties, lined the roads during our drive to the floating village. We instantly realized we were in a country far poorer than any other we have visited to date with the possible exception of Nepal. However, the people are rich in life and most appear happy even though no one knows what tomorrow may bring.

There were two types of houses on the road to the market—those on stilts above the water and houses that floated on the river. Regardless of the house, the children ran around frolicking in the afternoon sun and swimming in the river, most wearing nothing but their birthday suit. For the majority of the children this wasn’t by choice. Most families don’t have the money to buy their children clothes until they’re older and won’t quickly outgrow them.

When we reached the market, the majority of the proprietors were young girls who were very skilled at selling postcards, bananas and cold drinks. They would give you a look that made you melt inside, we could almost feel their suffering… how can you not help them? Of course we realize we can’t help them all and did what we could for the few who approached us.

After we returned from our city tour, we relaxed in our room for a few hours before we searched for internet access. We didn’t make it very far, Lin and Mey, our guides for the day, were eating at a local restaurant a few doors down from our guesthouse and insisted we join them for dinner.

We sat down at the table and food instantly started arriving. Lin and Mey had been there for awhile and had already finished a pitcher of beer, but we arrived just in time for the food and a second pitcher of beer. Mey grabbed us a couple glasses full of ice and poured us a cold one; beer is best on ice in Cambodia because this is the only way to keep it cold.

Next, he then politely showed us how to mix the fermented fish sauce, lemongrass, chilies, peanuts and fresh lime. This concoction served as a tasty dip for all of the grilled meats served to our table. Throughout the evening we tried grilled beef, cow intestines, squid and shrimp mixed with a tray of vegetables. Of course we also shared several more pitchers of beer. The guys preferred a mix of beers, similar to a black and tan (Guinness and Bass), providing a stronger taste, but not as strong as Guinness.

With each new pitcher of beer our sweet waitress would drop two or three more ice-cubes in our glasses and placed another plate below the pitcher signaling the total number of pitchers for the table. I think I counted 7 when we finally staggered out. Lucky for us, beer on ice, as strange as it sounds, actually “waters down” the beer and allows you to function in the morning.

We were happy we tried the local place with the locals; otherwise I don’t think we would have figured out the fish sauce concoction. Plus, the numerous toasts and stories shared will last a lifetime. We booked another trip with the guys for Tuesday when we will head up to the mountains where we will see one of Cambodia’s National Parks—which, of course, also includes a few temples.

We promised another dinner after our next trip. I think we have to limit the number of pitchers to 4! (They are small jugs.)

The Power of the $....

Siem Reap, Cambodia

July 7, 2007
N 13°24.747
E 103°51.822

The media has built up the anticipation of 07/07/07, a day of luck, in a similar fashion to the millennium. For us the day meant a new country, a day of change, and most importantly it meant the escape from Saigon after a few days walking through the dirty, rain drenched streets.

For others, like my cousin Michelle, it means a new life as she ties the knot with her longtime boyfriend. We wish her well from our new country, Cambodia. And of course, Tour de France fans are welcoming the start of this year’s tour which happens to fall on the lucky day—maybe it will bring luck to another American cyclist (no dopers, please).

Upon arrival in Siem Reap, we weaved our way through the line for those applying for Visas, filled out our paperwork, paid our $20 fee, and supplied a passport photo. We were then told to wait in another queue as the authorities processed our Visas; basically applying a little sticker in our passports.

Every few minutes, with a stack of passports from all over the world in hand, a stern looking immigration official would attempt to read the names from each passport and hand them back to the respective owners.

When Marc’s name was called it wasn’t by the stern looking head guy, but rather a guy early on in the “process”. “Oh shit,” I thought and followed Marc up to the window. The guy explained to Marc that he didn’t have a full page in his passport to place the Visa. Marc and I each pointed out a few pages that were completely blank; however, we were told that those pages didn’t have the word “visa” on them. After several minutes of pointing, discussions, and stern lectures… we knew where this was headed. Marc finally asked, “Well, what can I do?” The guy flipped through the passport one more time and found a visa from Turkey in 2004. He decided he could place the sticker there if Marc approved and, of course, “contributed” a little extra money to the Cambodian government.

Marc wrote on the back of his Visa application that he approved the Cambodian government to place the Visa on page 16 of his passport. He then had to sign this statement and pay the $10 levied on him for this privilege. We were happy to see a little extra money got the job done. Now we hope Laos has the same "policy" for this type of situation until he can get more pages added to his passport in Bangkok.

07/07/07 was lucky for us after all. It not only saved us from Saigon, it also kept Marc out of airport limbo. Plus, now that we are in a new country with new sites, I am back in travel mode!

Good Night Vietnam...

Saigon, Vietnam

July 6, 2007
N 10°46.071
E 106°41.665

I woke up at 5:00 AM unable to go back to sleep no matter how hard I tried. I quietly got out of bed, trying my best not to wake Marc; I wanted to finish my story from San Francisco. I stroked the keyboard stealth like, without making a peep.

Not only was I suffering from jet lag, but I was afflicted with a mean case of culture shock. When I left Vietnam ten days ago I had become accustomed to the sea of scooters, bikes and cars forcing their way through the wet Saigon streets, with their horns blaring. I had adapted to dodging scooters, cyclos and cars, sidestepping piles of garbage, and fending off street vendors; my skills of navigating through chaos were honed. However, after being in the States for a week, where laws matter and chaos doesn’t reign supreme, I was stuck between two worlds—one at home, one as a traveler.

I had a tough day re-adjusting. I was happy to be back with Marc, of course, but the busy streets of Saigon were overwhelming. Street peddlers sold everything… during dinner, in a matter of 45 minutes; we were approached by at least a dozen people selling everything from bootlegged books, fake Zippo lighters, hashish, mushrooms, opium, to chocolate chip cookies. Don’t worry—we didn’t touch any of that stuff—but we did grab a few cookies.

We loved our time in Vietnam, but one can only handle so much time in Saigon. Saigon is a city that is on top of you all the time, forcing you to stay on your toes every minute outdoors.

I know we have so much more to see and my family and friends will be at home when I return. A good night’s sleep and a new country will help me get back in the travel state of mind. I know Marc will play a huge role in my quick recovery too.

Time to Go "Home"...

San Francisco, CA/ Ho Chi Minh (Saigon), Vietnam

July 5, 2007
N 10°46.071
E 106°41.665

Since I had to fly through San Francisco three times during my trip to the States, I realized I needed a night in my favorite city in the world—the place I still call home. I jumped off the plane, grabbed my bags, and headed to BART, immediately excited, barely able to contain myself. I was back in San Francisco, even if it was for only 18 hours—I didn’t care.

I immediately felt obligated to help the tourists I encountered on BART trying to figure out their stop… “two more stops until your station,” I told the two Japanese girls holding their USA guide. I reminded them again when we got to Powell Street Station. I love this city I kept saying to nobody in particular after I finally reached my stop and walked down the street.

From BART I caught my “favorite” bus, the Stockton 30, at 6:00 PM the day before a holiday—as usual it was standing room only. I stood still with my large pack doing my best not to knock the people behind me off of their feet. As usual, the majority of the people got off at the two stops through Chinatown, leaving me a little room to maneuver before I exited at Washington Square Park.

The park was as perfect as always, dogs frolicking, bums napping in the sun, and mothers pushing their babies for an afternoon walk. The views of Coit Tower and St. Peter and Paul Church had me again whispering under my breath … this is the best city! I made my way down Columbus Street towards our friend Mike’s house, my home for the night, when I saw a couple tourists trying to read a map. I stopped and helped them, pointed them in the direction of the famous North Beach eateries.

I dumped off my stuff and caught up with Mike before we headed to Giordano Bros. for an All-in-One sandwich (meat, cheese, fries and slaw between two pieces of bread—pure decadence) and Buffalo wings. The live music was already playing when we walked through the doors and I saw Allison holding her beautiful six month old daughter Sadie. The last time I saw Sadie she was 15 days old, a tiny little girl in my arms; now she has a cute personality and giggled when I tickled her belly. I quickly offered to take her for awhile knowing she will be close to a year old next time I see her.

Even though my trip to San Francisco was last minute, Shelby and Dustin were available to meet me for a night in the city. I am so lucky to have such great friends. As we were waiting for Shelby, Dustin, and Dustin’s brother Casey, my good friend Virginia walked into the highly rated sandwich shop. I sent Virginia a message earlier in the day letting her know I would be in town if she had time to meet me. I was ecstatic to see her and everyone else.

We hung out at Giordano Bros. for awhile before heading to Tony Nik’s, another one of my favorite North Beach joints. As we walked to the local watering hole, the area was bustling with tourists, locals and the “bridge and tunnel” crowd. The air was crisp and I quickly put on my light sweater to stop the chill. When the night finally came to an end, I knew I couldn’t be happier with the fantastic evening I had with my friends, in my city. I wanted the evening to last forever, but since I knew I was fighting sleep—it had to come to an end.

In the morning, as the sun shinned brightly over the San Francisco skies, I had some time to grab a coffee at Café Trieste. Luckily, two of my favorite people were working—Paul and Shawn—I gave them warm hellos and goodbyes all at the same time. I had a little one-on-one time with Shelby during our caffeine fix, thanked her for being such a good friend and then she took me to the airport.

After Shelby dropped me off at the San Francisco International terminal, I reflected on my quick visit to the United States. I realized how lucky I am to have such great friends and family and how much I enjoyed my time with each of them during my stay. For some of the people, like my Dad, it included long telephone conversations we haven’t been able to share due to the high cost of international calls. For others, like Jenn, it was sharing a once in a lifetime memory as she starts her new life.

In the end, it took everything to get me back on the plane to Saigon; I felt like I was being torn away from friends and family, but the single most important person—my best friend and family—was what pushed me through and forced me to board the plane. Ten days was definitely a break in the 24x7x365, but like they say… absence makes the heart grow fonder. I am more of the opinion that time together makes us stronger... at least that has been the case to date.

It's Hard to Say "See You Soon"...

Phu Quoc / Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon):

July 4, 2007
N 10°46.071
E 106°41.665

Laura will be back in Ho Chi Minh City tomorrow evening. It has been strange not having her around the past week... we've been together 24x7 since January and this is the longest we've been apart. It has been hard! At the same time, I have extremely fond memories from Phu Quoc. (Pictures will follow soon, please be patient).

I spent 7 nights on the island in a very remote "resort" that had 7 very quaint bungalows ($8 per night); no hot water, electricity was sporadic at best, but the beer was always cool and the food was excellent. Best of all, I made friends I will never forget. The most notable was Ha, a 23 year old Vietnamese girl who I tutored in English for about 3 hours per day.

Over the course of the week we became very good friends. We spoke for hours about our families, friends, childhoods, dreams, religion, and of course our countries. She watched after me like I was her family and not a guest. I will be forever grateful for her friendship and extraordinary hospitality.

Below is my final story (Part III) from the time I spent on Phu Quoc:

A final cup of black coffee with with my friend.
The taste of saline as I hold back tears.
We both try to smile.
Memories of a rare friendship.

The clap of thunder breaks the silence.
Time to go.

No good-byes.
Just a quick hug, a sincere Thank You, and a treasured kiss on the neck.

The motorbike pulls away.
Tears in my eyes.
I force myself to look back.

A final snap-shot.

My friend stands alone, still waving.
See you soon.

Stories From The Beach (Part II)...

Westport, WA U.S.A./Phu Quoc Island, Vietnam

July 3, 2007
Phu Quoc:
N 10°11.124
E 103°57.963

Westport:
N 46°53.270
W 124°06.360

As Marc sits on the beach on a remote island in Vietnam, I am visiting my Mom in Westport, WA as she prepares for the town's 4th of July celebration. The time in the United States definitely broke up the 24x7x365, but I will be back in Saigon in two days to start it all over again!

Here is another one of Marc's stories from the beach:

Behind the gray sky the sun sets.

Waves continue to batter the shore.
Messengers of the next storm.

Twinkle of fishing boats creep across the horizon.
Their day begins.

Wet sand sticks to my feet, another cool beer please, gentle breeze.
My day comes to an end.

Wedding Bells...

San Diego, CA U.S.A./Phu Quoc Island, Vietnam

July 1, 2007
Phu Quoc:
N 10°11.124
E 103°57.963
San Diego:
N 32°43.000
W 117°09.000

I made calls from the San Diego Airport lounge filling people in on the wedding as I waited to board my flight to Seattle. I decided to make a detour to see my Mom and Jim before flying back to Vietnam to be with Marc.

The wedding the night before went off perfectly. The bride and groom exchanged their vows on the bow of the Catamaran, with Jeff Porter as the official and 45 of their friends and family watched the stunningly handsome couple. The happy bride and groom held onto the rail as they put on each other’s rings and kissed. The weather was perfect in the San Diego Harbor, the brilliant sun shining down on the full boat, making a perfect backdrop as the vows were exchanged. There were only a few bumps making some of the guests queasy, as Jenn Porter and Kris Green became Mr. and Mrs. Green.

Marc sent his congratulations from an internet café on Phu Quoc Island. He opted to avoid the very long flight and the anxiety filled days before the wedding as my main job was to keep Jenn calm. I definitely missed him during the romantic day; however, with the slightly choppy water and his weak stomach he made the right decision.

The Catamaran cruised along the bay for another two hours as the guests mingled on the boat. Dinner was served shortly after the ceremony as guests filed in and out of the galley. There were some tears as guests toasted the newlyweds, others choking up, unable to speak in front of the crowd.

As the sun set we pulled back into the dock with the happily married couple. We quickly unloaded the boat before meeting again in the Sheraton lobby bar. When it came time for the couple to leave, I embraced each of them knowing I wouldn’t see them again before my flight. I started to tear up a little bit, but controlled myself.

I was very happy I made it back for the special day. I know it meant a lot to Jenn and Kris, but it also meant a lot to me to see my best friend marry such a wonderful guy—knowing they will live happily ever after.