Cambodia: Day 14

Monday, May 23, 2011

Om Loon's House in Phnom Penh

8:37 PM

Today was by far the most depressing day of my stay here thus far. Actually, I shouldn't say "thus far". I'm pretty sure it will be the most depressing day of my entire trip, period. Why? Well, today we decided to tour both Tuol Sleng Prison and the Killing Fields.

I look back at when I first signed up for this internship. People kept bringing up something called the "Khmer Rouge", and I was confused as to what they were talking about. The more information I got on the topic, the more shocked I became at how I had never heard of the Pol Pot regime before and the atrocities that the Cambodian people suffered under his leadership.

We started our day at Tuol Sleng. After having read about it and watched about half of a documentary on it, I was a little anxious to peruse the grounds. I instantly went into a somber mood as I stepped into the first torture room, an odd feeling flooding my personage as I stared at a bed that many people had undoubtedly suffered and died on. I tried my hardest to picture what had happened in those rooms time after time, but the atrocities were difficult for me to fathom. This happened while my parents were in college. How it went unnoticed by so many is beyond my comprehension.

What's even more difficult for me to fathom is that of the thousands of people that passed through the prison, only seven men survived. In one sense, I'm somewhat surprised that more didn't survive, but in the end I know that what happened there should have made it impossible for anyone to survive at all.

We grabbed some lunch after Tuol Sleng and then directed our tuk-tuk in a southwestern direction, toward the Killing Fields, or Choeung Ek. I didn't expect much from the Killing Fields but to see a few acres of empty land, with maybe some bones piled up underneath a wood shack. What I observed, however, was pretty different. The first thing you see when you drive up to the gate is a giant stupa-like building, glass windows forming the base. As you walk up to the tower, you begin to see that there are objects piled up within the glass windows.

Skulls. Tattered clothing. Remains of those who suffered under the Pol Pot regime.

I continued my tour of the grounds, reading each sign carefully, trying to picture in my mind the events that happened 35 years ago. Yet again I found myself unable to comprehend what occurred. I stared at each mass grave, my mind void of everything but sympathy for the victims who never had the opportunity for a proper burial. I was careful to watch where I put my feet; heavy rainfall is still forcing bones and fragments of clothing to the ground's surface.

I would say that I had empathy for those people, but the fact of the matter is I didn't. There's no possible way that I could ever fully understand the turmoil they went through. To me, saying I had empathy for them would have put a limit to their suffering. Their circumstances, however, begged that there be only one ultimate boundary to their agony, and that was death.

Though many died under the regime of the Khmer Rouge, the memories still live on. Families still suffer from having lost loved ones, land mines still maim and murder, and many still live in fear. The Khmer Rouge decimated a society that would, more than likely, be flourishing in modern society. What used to be the pearl of southeast Asia, the capitol city of Phnom Penh, was set back decades due to war. Today the younger population is paying a price, striving to catch up with the westernized world.

The more I think about it, the more I realize that we can't underestimate the power of one person. Hitler. Stalin. Pol Pot. Individual men who made their way to the top all because they believed in something.

They didn't just believe, though; they had conviction.

In the end, it comes down to acting, or being acted upon. We must each decide our own beliefs, and then turn them into convictions to be used for good or evil.

Today, my conviction of the power of one was reinforced. I will never forget the things I felt while I stood within the walls of Tuol Sleng. I will never forget what I saw while I walked the grounds of Choeung Ek.

Never.

[Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum]

[One of the torture rooms in Tuol Sleng.]

[Graffiti. I'm not sure if the equations are from when it was a high school or not, but the other stuff is what visitors to the prison have written.]

[This little precious made my day so much better.]

[The Killing Fields.]

[Skulls from the bodies that have been excavated.]

[See that white stuff in the dirt? Yeah, those are bones. The heavy rainfall causes them to come to the surface.]

[This is the "Magic Tree." The sign says it was used as a tool to hang a loudspeaker which made the sound louder to avoid the moan of victims while they were being executed.]

[At the end of the day, I drowned my sorrows by eating my first cricket.]

Cambodia: Day 13

Monday, May 23, 2011

Om Loon's House in Phnom Penh

7:12 AM

After a great night's sleep, Lauren and I woke up to get ready for church. We decided that we wanted to see what things were like at the international branch instead of the Khmer branch.

We arrived to a very empty chapel. After shaking the hands of some missionaries and an African man named Desmond, we took our seats in a pew on the far side of the room. It wasn't long before the branch president had come over, asking us how long we were going to be in Phnom Penh. His face lit up as we told him we would be around for the next three months. "You'll probably be helping with the primary, young women, and Relief Society."

Lauren was quick to tell him that we weren't sure how consistent we would be in coming to the branch because our internships require us to go to the provinces. Combine that with our own group excursions, I'm going to be pretty surprised if we go back more than three times.

A guy named Pace also made sure to introduce himself to us. They way he said, "So, where are you ladies from?" gave me the strong impression that he was being creepy and hitting on us. Two seconds later he started talking about his wife. It was all very confusing.

Sacrament ended, so Desmond made sure we knew where we were going. I asked him where he was from, hoping that he would say Haiti. He replied that he was from Nigeria; I was very curious as to why he was in Cambodia. Apparently he has a job here, but he also plays soccer in a Cambodian league. He could have been playing that one day we were at the Olympic stadium.

Sunday School was pretty fun. I sat down and looked around me. This is the most diverse room I've ever been in. A young Vietnamese girl sat down next to me and introduced herself as June. She found out that I was going to BYU and promptly told me that she was going to be attending UVU in the winter. I gave her my Facebook information and email so that she could add me as a friend. I'm really hoping that we can get together when she comes to the US so that I can show her around Provo and Orem and help her get oriented to the US.

There were a lot of Americans in the room. One man in his seventies, wearing suspenders and Chums, gave a very lengthy introduction about himself. From Blanding, Utah, he tried to explain what the "Four Corners" were as Pace attempted to draw it on the board. The missionaries behind us made small snide comments here and there, making Lauren and I laugh quietly.

Relief Society was great. A large black woman, wearing a red silk suit and carrying her baby, presided over the meeting. It was just like Relief Society back home, with an opening hymn, rest hymn, Good News Minute, etc. April, the president, gave us a lesson on trust. She used a story from the Liahona about a woman named Glenna Boyce. Wait … Glenna Boyce … Alyse's grandma from Logan?! Yep. I'm hearing about people from home all the way in Cambodia!

After church, we gave Pace our contact info and met June's family. The dad told us that June might get a hold of us and have us over for dinner sometime. June also told us to call her if we have spare time on the weekend and we'd hang out or something.

Desmond intercepted us as we were walking home. He was walking in that way that suggested he was waiting for us. We asked him questions to make small talk. Apparently he's been a member for a year now and even has the Aaronic Priesthood. He's moving to Australia pretty soon and then wants to go to the US to go to the temple. He seems like a pretty cool guy! He said he could get us tickets to a game of his, so we're going to look into that a little more.

I'm glad we made so many friends at church. It definitely makes this place feel a little more like home.

Cambodia: Days 11 & 12

Sunday, May 22, 2011

Back at Om Loon's House in Phnom Penh

10:37 PM

It feels great to be back in Phnom Penh. I'm sure it seems odd for me to be saying that, seeing as how I was just in a resort town, doing nothing but swimming, reading, and eating. I like how busy everything is in this city, though. In many ways I wish that I were started in my internship; that's what I came here for in the first place. Sitting around without anything to really do or focus on tends to drive me crazy. All I have to do is wait one more week and I'll be working.

Friday morning I woke up to Eng's Cambodian music playing from the living area just outside our bedroom door, which was wide open. For some reason he thought it was a good idea to bring his computer and speakers with him to Sihanouk Ville. Anyway, we ate breakfast and made our way down the beach to a boat that was going to take us to an island. My excitement mounted as a narrow green fishing boat, of a southeast Asian style, made its way close to the shore for us to get on. We carefully carried our bags out to the boat and jumped on.

About forty minutes passed and we were far away from the shore. The two Cambodian men who owned the boat dropped anchor as Eng taught Spencer how to make a fishing pole out of a water bottle and line. Wait, why do I feel nauseated all of a sudden? This doesn't feel normal…

Yep. For the first time in my life, I was seasick. I tried to down some bread, but it tasted gross and made me feel worse. I laid back on the wood lining of the boat, trying to fall asleep, but only feeling about the same. It wasn't necessary for me to throw up, but I had a slight desire to do it. I refrained, though, and instead dove into the ocean. I immediately felt better, but Spencer told me that we were moving on to a different area, so I climbed back in the boat. Tuni and Kaitlin were feeling the same as me, so all three of us were very thankful as we floated to the shore where we would be spending the night.

Small bungalows dotted the shore as we pulled in. These were legitimate bungalows, too. Thatch roof. No air conditioning or fans. Thin mat on a slat of wood for sleeping. Hammocks. This is what I'm talking about! Man, I wish I had my ukulele with me …

We checked in at a large gazebo that doubled as a restaurant. This was the main hangout spot for the hotel. Foreigners laid everywhere, sprawled out on large pillows and mats, smoking cigarettes, obviously hung over from the night before. Guarantee I could buy myself some drugs in five minutes, no questions asked.

We made our way to our home for the night, a small yellow hut that was tagged with graffiti and standing on wood stilts. I immediately went for the hammock once I had put my stuff away.

Lauren, Mike, Spencer, and Eng headed out for more fishing. Kaitlin, Tuni, and I stayed back, not wanting to get sick again. I stayed on the hammock and read on the porch of the small hut while Tuni and Kaitlin tanned on the beach. Eventually it became pretty overcast, so I made my way out to the ocean. The water was so warm, like bathwater.

Eng and Spencer eventually showed up about six hours later and escorted us to the other side of the island. They had taken their catch for the day and given it to some people on the other side of the island to cook for us. We walked through the jungle, passing brown centipedes on the ground and listening to unique bird callings from within the depths of the trees.

The food at dinner was great. I would have stuffed myself, but I was too busy eyeing the large spiders in the rafters and dodging the huge flying beetles overhead. Kaitlin and I looked ridiculous as we ran away from the table on multiple occasions, squealing our disapproval. It's ok, though. I'm still here and alive today.

Sleeping that night was terrible. Lauren and I crawled into our bed and made sure we were covered by the mosquito net. I shifted around, trying my hardest to get comfortable. Sleep came and went in 45 minute episodes. Spencer and Eng showed up around three in the morning, asking for the key to their hut. Finally dawn broke and I was awake.

Awake isn't the right word. It's more like I wasn't fully asleep and there wasn't any chance of me being able to fall asleep, either.

We ate breakfast and got back on the boat. Mike made his shell wind chime thing that he had been gathering shells for the entire trip. I was expecting to get sick, but it didn't happen, so that's good. A couple hours later we were back on the bus, headed for Phnom Penh.

I was happy to be going back.

[Our group in Sihanouk Ville.]

[Fishing on the Indian Ocean.]

[The bungalow that the guys stayed in.]

[The captain of our boat and his first mate ... I think?]

Cambodia: Day 10

Thursday, May 19, 2011

Porch at our Bungalow in Sihanouk Ville

7:21 AM

I woke up yesterday to low rumbles of thunder. It was sprinkling as I walked out to the porch with my laptop in hand. The air was cooler than normal and set the stage for a great day of weather.

After breakfast we hopped on two tuk-tuks and made our way to a waterfall. Nestled in a nearby national park, it took us about thirty or forty minutes to get there. The scenery was beautiful as I watched the open countryside turn into dense forest. The tuk-tuks pulled into a clearing made of red dirt, a few small fruit and souvenir stands set off to the side.

All except for the trash and debris, the waterfall was beautiful. It was about three tiers high and had plenty of room for us to walk around. I was a little hesitant to get in at first because of the murkiness of the water and the amount of trash that was pooled around the sides at the bottom. We all gave in, though.

We swam around for a while and then made our way back to the top. There was an area near the waterfall with wood platforms where we could lay down and swing in hammocks, so we took full advantage of it. I read and eventually slept in one of the hammocks until our lunch came.

The small oasis gave the impression of being run by the locals who live within its borders, void of government control that pervades national parks in the United States. Would it be better if it were more strictly watched over by those at the national level? Sure, it might become a little more clean, but there's always that lingering fear of westernization. Culture would be lost, traditions would vanish. For me, I can take a little trash in exchange for the preservation of a way of life.

The waterfall conquered, we decided we wanted and needed more beach time. I was nervous to go back to the beach because I was afraid of getting jumped by the child entrepreneurs, but I decided the risk was worth it. The tuk-tuk pulled up to the beach, and no more than thirty seconds passed before the brigades came surging around the corner, calling my name. How in the heck did they know I was here? I don't want to go through this again! I put my game face on. I was NOT going to give them any more of my money, that was dang sure.

Yung-Yung appeared and made her move. She grabbed my hand, asking if I wanted a manicure or a massage. "No, Yung-Yung. Not today." She gave me the pouty face, but I stood my ground. I shied away from her as the group made their way back to the bungalow. "Three mo' dollars!" Yung-Yung cried as I turned back. She hadn't forgotten that I owed her money.

I was determined to stay away from the part of the beach being watched by the old women and children, so we decided to stay on the rockier portion near the hotel. We went for a swim, Mike and I going far out into the ocean until he got stung or bit by something on his neck. We turned back and, once on the beach, made the decision to head to the sandier part of the beach, into enemy territory.

I strategically set my stuff down on a chair, sure that one of the people in my group was watching it, and ran into the water. They can't bug me if I'm in here. I waded around, talking to Spencer, Tuni, and Lauren, all of whom had the same exit strategy as me. I laughed to myself as Kaitlin and Mike were surrounded by Cambodians. I finally got up the courage to go sit down and read in my disk chair. I checked the scene. When Yung-Yung was out of sight, I made my move. I grabbed my towel, sat down in the chair, and put my sunglasses on. When some women came up to me, I pretended I was asleep. It worked for the most part. I felt bad, but not as bad as having to tell them no over and over again. Yung-Yung found me; it was inevitable. I gave her the three dollars I owed her. She started to massage my back. "You can do it for free if you want; I’m not going to pay you anything," I said delicately.

"Ok," she responded. "I do massage fo' free, then you tip me ten dollars."

I laughed. "No, Yung-Yung. Not today." Somehow I finally got her to go away and all was well.

We ate dinner on the beach that night, then headed back to our hotel. I got my computer from the bungalow and Skyped my parents at the bar while the rest of the gang did some night swimming. It was the perfect ending to a wonderful day.

Cambodia: Day 9

Wednesday, May 18th, 2011

Bungalow in Sihanouk Ville

11:32 PM

Our first day in Sihanouk Ville was interesting. We woke up around six in the morning so that we could be to Spencer's apartment by seven. We were planning on meeting in front of Om Loon's house at 6:40 AM, but of course we were delayed for multiple reasons. Tuni, Lauren, and I arrived at the apartment about ten minutes late. The six of us hopped in two separate tuk-tuks and made our way to the bus station. An hour-and-a-half later, we were on a bus headed for Sihanouk Ville.

Tuni and I crammed into two small seats, myself being squished to the window. I actually quite enjoyed the window seat because it gave me a chance to gaze out at the countryside. I saw an actual rice paddy for the first time in my life, so that was pretty neat. Scenes from the book I've been reading, "Survival in the Killing Fields", flipped through my mind. I could picture the "war slaves", tearing down and building up dykes, plowing and planting the rice in their struggle to survive.

We stopped for about an hour to take a break and then hit the road again. A young girl of toddler age who had screamed the entire way to our pit stop resumed her wailing. Thank goodness for iPods and earphones, right?

Finally, Sihanouk Ville was found. We came up over a ridge and we could see the ocean spreading in the distance. Large barges dominated one side of the coast and was separated from the rest of the coast by a large hill. We took a taxi and a tuk tuk to our place of stay, known as The Cove. A bald Australian man greeted us at an open-air bungalow which was functioning as a bar and check-in desk. We made our way up the hillside, walking up flight of stairs after flight of stairs. Our bungalow is probably the highest one up the hillside, with three bedrooms, a bathroom, and a living room. The porch allows us to enjoy a beautiful view of the coast. I sat in a red disk chair and stared out over the ocean. This is the life.

That thought process, however, was quickly shot into remission by a hoard of child salesmen. We were walking on the white sandy beach for less than five minutes when we were spotted by a group of them. They flanked us, asking us our names and showing us their bundles of bracelets and headbands that were for sale. They thrust "free" bracelets on our wrists and made us pinkie promise that we'd buy from them first. My instincts immediately told me that this wasn't a good situation for me to be in. I have a terrible phobia of offending people and this particular environment created the perfect storm for me to be taken advantage of.

One girl in particular stood out to me because of her shockingly red hair, something I hadn't seen while I'd been in Cambodia. Obviously it was dyed. She asked me my name, where I was from, all of the usual questions that would make us amount to friendly acquaintances. I politely gave her the answers and asked her the same questions.

"Rihanna."

Of course your name is Rihanna. I continued our small conversation as the herd followed us into an open-air restaurant and bar. Rihanna seemed pretty cool, so I agreed to buy a bracelet from her. She went to work on it while girl after girl continued to come up to me, trying to sell the exact same things that I had said no to five seconds earlier. At one point I looked up to see Spencer bent over the table with an old woman going at his back with a string, shaving the hair. I thought I was in paradise; now I’m in a circus.

Finally, we were able to eat our delicious shakes with a little peace. That space only lasted about five minutes, though, and then the kids and older women were right back at it. I paid Rihanna, made a bunch of pinkie promises to girls that I knew there was no way in heck I would be able to keep, and tried to keep my cool.

Once Rihanna had left the restaurant, Tuni and Mike made the observation that Rihanna was actually a boy. I didn't believe them at first, but after closer inspection their claims were confirmed. Just when I thought this day couldn't be any more bizarre ...

We headed for the beach, but I only got as far as my beach chair before an older Cambodian woman named Yung Yung came up to me, begging to give me a manicure for four US dollars. I kept telling her no over and over again, but she was extremely persistent. For the sake of being able to just have some quiet, I agreed. Suddenly that manicure turned into an entire leg shaving extravaganza. I sat in my chair, four Cambodian women around me tackling the jungle of hair on my legs. Teenage Cambodian girls came up to me, making more attempts to get me to buy their goods. One boy came up and started swearing at me after I told him no. He told me that I was going to go ride the elephants and that I would die. I stared straight ahead out at the ocean. This is not what I had planned. Thankfully Yung Yung told the boy to go away after he wished death upon me. I really appreciated that kindness.

When my hair was defeated, she gave me the price. Forty US dollars. Are you freaking kidding me? Forty bucks?! This plucking better last a whole two months like you said it would. I gave her all that I had, $27, and told her I'd pay three more dollars the next day. There was no way I was going to pay forty. She wasn't very happy with me, but I tried to communicate to her as best I could that I honestly didn't have any money left.

By that time, everyone was done playing in the ocean. I was frustrated. I had just spent all of my money on a manicure and a shaving that I’m pretty sure I could have done myself. Oh, well. That money just might go to good use. She was a smoker, I just funded her packs for the next week or two. Hooray for lung cancer.

I realized that I hate feeling like a tourist. I hate the attention. I hate the negative energy that comes when you don't fulfill peoples expectations.

At first I was sad and angry at the young boy for saying those rude things to me. After some thought, though, I realized that I couldn't blame him for his own anger. Probably about ten or eleven years old, he should have been out playing with his friends, enjoying his childhood and developing into a healthy young man. Instead he was stuck on a beach with a bunch of foreigners, trying to make some money to help his family out. To further justify his frustration, there was probably a good chance that he was going to arrive home that evening not having sold a thing. His reward for being empty-handed? A beating by those who should love him no matter what.

In addition to underage peddlers, many amputees also dot the beach. The majority of them have lost a leg and must scoot around by the power of their arms through the sand, begging for money.

Land mines.

The physical beauty of this place hides the sadness that happens in the lives of those who live here. Many of the teenage girls spend "quality time" with foreign men who are easily twice their age, hoping that they'll be seen as worthy to be taken home, far away from the shores of Cambodia...

[Serendip Beach at dusk.]

[This was me getting pampered. That smile is fake.]

Cambodia: Day 5 & 6

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Bedroom in Om Lon's House

9:58 PM

The inevitable has come to pass. I officially got traveller's diarrhea this morning. I hope that this doesn't disgust some of you readers out there, but that's just how it is. I woke up earlier than usual this morning to a stomach that didn't hurt, but felt like it was uncomfortably full of packing peanuts and was roaring uncontrollably. Great. My time has come. I laid in bed for a while, trying to make it go away by continuing my slumber, but to no avail. I finally made my way into the restroom, defeated.

Two anti-diarrheal pills later and I'm perfectly fine. My appetite has definitely changed since I've been here; I'm not nearly as hungry as I usually am and I'm finding it pretty easy to go without a meal. The loss of my usual snacking and increase in fruits and vegetables, in addition to our busy schedule that keeps us on the go, should reap some benefits for my health.

Enough chatting, let's get on with what I've done this weekend. Yesterday we rode our bikes to Kaitlin and Spencer's before taking a tuk-tuk to Wat Phnom. I wasn't exactly sure what to expect with Wat Phnom, but I think I definitely expected something a little more extravagant. I need to do some more research on its origins so that I can better understand its significance, because right now I just perceive it as a rundown park with a giant cement mass on top of a hill. Compared to the National Museum, the Wat Phnom museum was pretty shabby and hardly worth the money we paid to get it. However, there was one redeeming factor about the Wat, and that was the monkeys. Obviously we spent the majority of our time observing them instead of the Wat. Trust me, you would have done the same thing.

After the Wat, we took a tuk-tuk to the river walk and searched for a cheap restaurant to eat at. We were walking around, observing our scenery when something caught my eye. A person was sitting down on the sidewalk, counting money, but something was slightly off. I had a very difficult time making out any facial features; all I could see was skin with thin patches of hair attached. As I passed the person, it took all of my might to not turn to look at the individual, but I finally gave in once I was a good distance away. I pretended to turn around to look at my friends, but instead looked right at a man that was suffering from a giant tumor on the right side of his face. One eye looked around, begging for money and mercy as the other eye was covered by layers of skin drooping from the top right side of his forehead. I felt hopeless for the man, knowing that in a country like this he had been left to fend for himself. I look back now, wishing that I would have done something, anything, to brighten the man's day.

We inhaled our lunch and somehow our tuk-tuk driver from the day before found us. He offered to take us to a boxing match and we immediately accepted. The driver was totally looking for any reason to go to the match, and we were his way in. Thinking that the match was only about a kilometer away, we were surprised as we drove out of Phnom Penh and into one of the immediate provinces. Our sluggish tuk-tuk made its way through acres of fields to a TV broadcast station, the venue for the night's matches.

Walking behind the station, we came to a large garage-type building, with sides open to the air and a boxing ring centered by a large stage and bleachers. We took our seats as the matches began. I was very excited to watch such a cultural event, to see how the athletes paid their respects to their teachers and to their god before their fights. That's something I realized as I watched: the people here remember their god in almost everything they do. That value is important and something that I definitely need to be better at in my own life.

The kickboxing event took up a good portion of our afternoon; we didn't get back to Spencer's until after seven. Apparently Spencer and Kaitlin had arranged to eat at our house that night, so we all made our way to Om Lon's for dinner. The table was pulled out and covered with all sorts of food: grilled beef with pineapple, curry, bread, and rice with fresh mangoes for dessert. I stuffed myself to the brim.

Sunday was an interesting day. We hadn't been to the building yet, so we were very surprised to see how big the building was. Situated in a more affluent part of town, the building stood white and tall. We walked inside and took our seats a few rows behind the last wooden pews. It was district meeting this week, so instead of having classes we just had a two-hour long meeting in the chapel. There were a ton of missionaries and a lot more members than I thought there would be. I was pleasantly surprised; the Church is very young here, but they're definitely making progress.

I didn't understand about half of the talks because they were in Cambodian, but the Spirit still felt the same.

We chatted it up with some of the senior couples after the service. I'm hoping they'll invite us over in the near future for some good American food.

Oh man, American food. I never thought I'd miss it so much. All I want right now is a big bowl of cereal...

Cambodia: Day 4

Today was a marathon of sorts. Lauren and I were up early, trying to get some exercise time in and finishing our journals. We headed to the internet café around the corner to browse the web for about an hour, then went back to our place.

I got a chance to talk to Hayley Heath over Facebook chat while I was at the café. She's currently doing an internship in Thailand. She said she's having a great time so far, but said that it gets a little lonely here and there. The closest other person to where she's living is about twenty minutes away, and today will be the first time that she'll get to see her entire group together. Talking to her made me really grateful for the setup that we have going on here in Cambodia. Tuni lives just across the street, and Mike is only one street over. Not only do we live really close to each other, but we're going to be working at the same NGO together. I think it's safe to say that we're going to be pretty great friends by the time the program ends.

Anyway, back to my story. The four of us left Om Lon's house at 10:45 AM to make it to Spencer's by 11 AM for a Khmer lesson. It was our first time riding our bikes, so navigating traffic was a little scary. We were probably fifteen minutes into our ride when we stopped and took a look at the map. The area we were in was a little more ghetto than I remembered, and after some searching on the map we came to the conclusion that we were in the complete opposite direction of where we were supposed to be. We had almost made it to the bridge that crosses over the Tonle Sap River and out of the city.

Finally we found our bearings and got back on track. We stumbled into Spencer's apartment around noon, sopping with sweat. Mike looked like he had fallen back first into the coy pond. Although we got lost, I absolutely loved it. I mean, how many people can say they got lost on their bikes in Phnom Penh? I wasn't ever really scared about the traffic; it was actually pretty easy to navigate. Though it looks absolutely chaotic, the people here are all very defensive drivers and know what they're doing.

We left Spencer's around 2 PM and made our way to one of the only Mexican restaurants in town, Cantina. I was surprised at how good it was, actually. I got a chicken burrito that didn't fill me up one bit, but it was something to hold me over for a while. We sat at the front of the small restaurant, watching the river walk outside. We were at the point where the Mekong and Tonle Sap Rivers converge into one giant river. I had read about this area in a few of my books, and to finally see it was beautiful. Monks, children, and even an elephant made their way along the street, reminding me once again of the majesty of this country. Rain poured and lightning struck overhead, making for a surreal feeling that I loved.

Our next stop was the National Museum. A giant red, Oriental-looking building situated near the Royal Palace, we had no problems finding it. The vast majority of what was inside the museum came from the Angkor period and even before that, including stone statues of Buddha and other various Hindi gods. I wish I could have had more time in there, but they were closing down as rounded the corner for our last leg of the museum.

After the museum, we made our way once again to the river walk. It was fun to just sit around and people watch. Mike wanted something fruity and creamy, so our tuk tuk driver took us to a place where we could get shakes for really cheap. It turned out to just be a vendor selling street food, so I was a little nervous to see what the food would do to me. So good, so far! Anyway, we all got some sort of fruit shakes, all of which were infused with durian. I got mango. It was pretty good, actually. I'm not sure if I'd go back necessarily, but it was really good. At one point, a woman in a large Lexus SUV drove up and got some food. The vendor and her employees became a little more active as they got the food for the woman. It wasn't until a few minutes later, once the woman had left, that our tuk tuk driver came up to us and informed us that the woman had been the sister of the Prime Minister.

That little adventure ended our night, for the most part. We had to go back to Spencer's so that we could ride our bikes back to our homes. We were able to make all the right turns this time and made it home in about 15 minutes. Hopefully we won't make the same mistake twice.

Cambodia: Day 3

I don't even know where to begin explaining the events of today. Lauren and I woke up at 6:30 to get ready for the day. Spencer had called us the night before and told us to meet at Mike's home at 7:30 to go to a Cambodian engagement party. I wore a skirt and a white v-neck with a white tank top underneath, hoping that it would be dressy enough for the occasion.

We arrived at Mike's to a room full of family members. Three Khmer women sat on the ground, legs bent at acute angles to their bodies and chomping on some form of tobacco. All three had very brown teeth; it would probably be fair to say that they were all good candidates for some form of mouth cancer. It was interesting that only the women were using the chaw; their husbands seemed to stay clear of it. They and their other family members stared at us as we sat on the couch on the other side of the room. This side of the family was from outside of Phnom Penh, from the provinces.

Spencer and Kaitlin eventually showed up and we all stepped outside to begin our journey. None of us knew where we were going, so we just followed Mike's dad. He led us all down the alleyway to the busy street where a Lexus SUV was waiting for us. All thirteen of us crammed inside like clowns in a clown car. I sat on Lauren's lap for the duration of our trip, sure that I was numbing her legs in the process. My mom would kill me if she knew I was in this car. But thus it is with the Cambodian way of life; cram as many people in one space that you can and call it good.

We arrived in one of the provinces immediately outside Phnom Penh and drove to a pretty nice home that was built next to a creek. Tables with gold and purple cloth were sitting on the porch and I knew we must be at the right place. We walked into the house and were led to the main living area where red and gold blankets covered the entirety of the ground. We were instructed to sit around the outside of the room as the men placed bowls full of fruit and other foods in the center of the room. They paid strict attention to detail, making sure there were two bowls of each fruit and that they were placed separately in an ornate pattern.

Eventually the rest of the family came and sat down with us and the ceremony began. I sat next to a man named Sokhen; we conversed as best we could in a mix of Khmer and English. A man in a white shirt conducted the ceremony through a wireless microphone as the parents of the future bride and groom sat at the front of the room. The large fruit baskets were passed from the parents of the groom (Mike's host parents) to the parents of the bride. The rest were passed between the parent couples in some sort of pattern that I didn't catch. The ceremony ended right around the time that my right leg began to cramp up.

But wait, what's this? Why is Sokhen holding his phone out to me? Wait- he wants my phone number? Ahh, crap. I couldn't understand why he wanted it, so I decided just to give him Mike's number. I snuck away and headed outside to join the group at the tables for our meal. The hosts brought around Angkor beer, scotch whiskey, and wine to us, among bottles of water and cans of Yeo drink and soda water. They were a little surprised that we weren't drinking the alcohol, so Spencer politely responded by telling them that we were Christians and didn't drink.

The food was great. I chowed down on some sort of pickled coleslaw mix for the most part. Fruit was brought out afterward and we kept going at it. My favorite fruit by far was one that was called something like "mango seed." It was a black, fleshy fruit that you eat by peeling away the thick red flesh until you get to the white fruit inside. So good!

We eventually made our way inside to stay away from the sun that was slowly creeping over the house towards the porch. Spencer was being bombarded by a very buzzed Cambodian man who apparently was the mayor of the area we were in. At one point Sokhen came over and handed me a piece of paper with his phone number and email on it. I took it politely, but was surprisingly embarrassed by the gesture. Naturally everyone in the group started poking fun at me. It's ok, though. I would have done the same thing.

At one point, a man brought out a fake apple tree and set it in the middle of the room as a TV playing karaoke songs blared in the background. They told us to come dance with them. Thinking it was a one time thing, we did. Somehow Sokhen got right in line next to me as we made futile attempts to dance like Cambodians. It was really fun, but I was getting tired about the sixth time around. Sokhen would come up to me as I sat at the table and sompeah, asking me to dance. We were all burnt out and dripping sweat like crazy at the end.

After drinking two cans of soda and downing a bunch of water, nature called my name. I headed to the bathroom to take care of business and eventually made my way out. I wasn't surprised to see that they were all dancing again. I stood kind in a corner of the room and began dancing here and there. Suddenly Mike's mom was behind me, pointing at something nearby. I thought she was telling me to move, but I was shocked to see that my skirt was tucked into itself and revealing the upper extremities of my legs. I quickly pulled it down and felt the embarrassment rush over me as the table of Cambodians behind me roared with laughter. I thanked her profusely for saving me from any further social suicide and went on dancing. Oh well, I'm never going to see any of them again anyway. I'm glad I could provide them with some sort of entertainment, even if it was at my own expense.

One thing I noticed was that they're just as nervous about offending us culturally as we are them. Sokhen came over at one point and apologized if any of us got offended with the dancing. I thought for sure that we were the only ones that were nervous about that, but apparently it goes both ways. Now that I think about it, I guess that if I had a guest from a foreign country, I'd be a little nervous about their cultural norms. Food for thought.

I was nervous about who was driving us home, since everyone seemed pretty liquored up. We had to get home somehow, though, so we piled into Sokhen's air conditioned truck and hit the road. Sokhen and Spencer had a nice little chat that Spencer later related to us. Apparently Sokhen's entire family was killed in 1977, two years after the Khmer Rouge took power. The only way he was able to escape was by running towards Vietnam around the age of 12. I can't imagine how scared he must have been.

We found our way back to Mike's house where it appeared the rest of the family had been there much longer before us. One of the old men made attempts to talk to us in Cambodian, but luckily one of Mike's host brothers was there to translate a little in English for us. His English was actually quite good. He told us that Cambodia had changed a lot since the millennium, that it had become much more modern. As we all know, though, modernity can breed its own problems. The elderly man was trying to communicate to us the Cambodian value of loyalty between husband and wife, that it was very important to his generation. As for the new generation, though, he wasn't very sure. I guess you could say that the loss of traditional values is a common symptom of globalization and modernization.

The young man told us that many more people drink now as compared to ten years ago because it's more readily available. Is that a good thing? From my point of view it certainly isn't. In one light, the production and selling of alcohol puts food on someone's table; on the other hand, it weakens and can eventually destroy one's life and affect an entire family unit for a lifetime.

The rest of the evening was spent learning Khmer and getting to know our group.

I absolutely love it here. Sure, sometimes it smells like a dumpster, but I have to remember that I do, too. There's something oddly liberating about sweating 24 hours a day. I'm embracing it.

Cambodia: Day 2

I'm starting to adjust to the time difference. Last night was a struggle as we walked around the mall; I was so tired that all I wanted to do was find a bench or chair to sit on while everyone else shopped. The only thing that I remember happening after my head hit the pillow was waking up at about 5:30 in the morning. A solid eight hours of sleep!

I woke up and did some writing in my journal about the events of the past day. Usually at home, the first thing I do after I wake up is book it toward the kitchen for a nice bowl of cereal. These days, I usually wake up and try to get some things done first, whether its reading a book or writing in my journal. I began one of my workouts, but Tuni came over about five minutes in and the three of us caught up. I soon forgot about my workout and we instead went downstairs to converse with Om Lon and eat our delicious breakfast of mangoes and chicken wings.

I haven't had a very difficult time adjusting to the food. I find it to be much healthier than my diet in the States. Not that I ate unhealthily in the States, but here my diet is void of many processed foods and is instead replaced with more fresh protein, vegetables, and fruits. The mangoes are definitely a favorite of mine, and Om Lon's cooking has yet to disappoint.

Want to know something else I have yet to see? I have yet to see an obese person here in Cambodia. Actually, scratch that. I saw one man in a restaurant we ate in today that was pretty overweight. He wasn't Cambodian, though; he was clearly caucasian, more than likely of the American type. "Of course," I thought to myself. "Of course the one person in Cambodia who is overweight, besides Buddha, is American. Well done, America. Way to hold up the stereotype."

Anyway, back to my day. After breakfast we decided to try out the internet café down our alleyway and around the corner. We were able to get an hour on one of their computers for only fifty cents, and the connection was actually pretty decent. I sat on a small leather stool and watched out the open doors while I patiently waited for Lauren to finish. Traffic zoomed by, and I couldn't help but notice that there was a fair amount of cars on the road. They weren't just cars, though. They were nice cars, vehicle brands that people who are considered to be "well-off" in America would enjoy driving. I couldn't help but wonder to myself how such nice cars came to Cambodia.

We went to Mike's house after our hour was up and met his host family. The dad showed off his gold teeth as he smiled from ear to ear, wearing only a sarong. Mike sat at a large table, eating breakfast despite the fact that we were going to eat lunch in a little over an hour.

After a little navigation from the market, we found our way to the indoor mall to meet Spencer and Ang for a meeting and lunch. We briefly outlined what we would be doing for the next few weeks before we began with RACHA and ate pizza, a welcome change to the Asian cuisine.

Looking at our options of things to do, we weaved our way through traffic on foot to the Olympic Stadium. The inside was enormous as a team of young Cambodians practiced volleyball to the tune of screeching bats in the high rafters above. A soccer game was being played outside, but you had to buy tickets to get in, so we watched for a bit from afar. It was an amazing sight as we watched a Cambodian man, probably about 25-years-old, squeeze through the bars of the gate. We all clapped for him after he got through.

We tackled the Olympic Market. Actually, we barely scratched the surface. There was vendor after vendor carrying the exact same products as the next man or woman, all crammed in a very small and stuffy building. I'm still trying to figure out how they make any money at all. They have to buy their plethora of product from someone, but then they turn around and sell it for dirt cheap. Not only do they sell it for dirt cheap, but they have a ton of competition situated around them in every possible direction. This system of business definitely doesn't work in America, so I’m curious to know how the Cambodians make it work, if they make it work at all.

Once we had seen enough of the market, we headed back to Kaitlin and Spencer's for a Cambodian lesson. We sat around for a while, doing stuff on the internet and watching America's Next Top Model while we waited for Spencer to come back. Finally he did and we were able to tackle the Cambodian number system. Basically if you can count to five, you can count to anything.

Everyone came back to our place afterwards. I was only around for about three minutes before I decided it was time to hit the shower. I hadn't showered since the morning I left for the airport, so I decided now was the time to stop the madness.

Om Lon made us a delicious dinner of leftover fish, beef and pineapple, potato and carrot stew, and mangoes. Oh man, the mangoes. I could probably eat those all day. Spencer told Om that we loved her cooking, and Lauren

Cambodia: Day 1

Falling into the routine of Cambodian life is coming along pretty well. We woke up yesterday at about 6 AM and began our day. We weren't exactly sure what to do about the breakfast eating situation; we didn't want to make it look like we were expecting breakfast or anything, even though we were starving. We walked around downstairs for a little bit and eventually a young boy showed up at the front door with a couple of styrofoam containers filled with rice, chicken, and other vegetables. It was a pretty solid breakfast, including noodles and some type of beef stir fry. My favorite dish, however, was some sort of greyish soup containing bananas and tapioca. I definitely want to learn how to make it before I leave.

After we ate, Lauren and I returned to our cool bedroom to read a little bit and do some journaling. After some time passed, we went downstairs to read near Om Lon as she made what looked like lunch. We gave her our gifts of American candy (a bag of Starbursts and Jolly Ranchers) and a book filled with pictures of Utah. She loved the book and looked at every single page.

Lunch was ready and I was excited to see what we were having to eat this time. I stared a little hesitantly at a fish, head and all, fried and garnished in a bowl. The presentation was actually quite beautiful, and I was excited to dig my fork into it. Rice and another stir fry concoction sat on the table.

We went to work. The fish was DELICIOUS. Seriously the best fish I've ever eaten. Despite it being kind of scary with that eye staring back at me, it was divine. Spencer called us during our meal and told us to head over to Mike's apartment and said he'd meet us somewhere. We promptly finished our meal, did our dishes, and headed out.

Mike found, we got on a tuk tuk and asked our driver to go to the Hotel Intercontinental, our meeting place. We drove around for quite a while, got dropped off at an intersection where three dogs were getting roasted on giant spits, and went to work to find Spencer. It wasn't long until we found out, however, that we were not in the same place he was. Another tuk tuk driver was employed and we headed back to where we had come from.

It began to pour buckets of rain. The driver, soaked as he was, stopped the tuk tuk and got out of his seat to put down the flaps to cover our tuk tuk and protect us from the surging water. The tuk tuk sounded like it was in its last moments, making the noises of a remote control car that was quickly losing its battery power. We continued onward, however, and eventually made it to the right place.

Spencer met us across the street on his bike. Another tuk tuk took us to a ritzy (by Cambodian standards) apartment complex. This was where Spencer and Kaitlin were living for the summer. We were able to use their wireless internet to email our parents and let them know we were alive and well. After that we had a brief Cambodian lesson and went to find something to eat. I wasn't that hungry; I'm still trying to get my appetite back. I'm a little afraid of getting sick, but I know it's inevitable. I'm going to get diarrhea eventually and there's nothing I can do about it. Anyway, we found a nice outdoor restaurant and feasted on grilled beef, stir fry, and rice. It was pretty tasty. We still had a lot of time to kill, so we went to an open-air market nearby and checked out all of their goods. I'm for sure going back to do some major shopping, that's for dang sure. I had to control myself for the time being, though.

We walked around the entire market and came to the food section. All different types of exotic fruit sat in baskets on the ground, dead fish and poultry lined the walking areas, and I couldn't help but be apprehensive that I was going to find someone selling fried tarantulas. Lucky for me, though, no tarantulas were found.

We continued our journey onward to an entire section dedicated to people selling flowers. Absolutely beautiful arrangements containing well over a dozen roses and other types of flora were for sale. A bouquet that would have easily cost over $100 could be purchased for around $15.

After we had navigated our way around the place, we decided to hit up the mall. My favorite part? An entire half of a floor dedicated to pirated movies, games, and software. I found a cd with the entire Adobe set of programs, including Photoshop, only for eight bucks. Normally that would easily be $500 in the States! I also found the entire series of Lost for about $23. Many movies were only $1.50, some of which had just come out into theaters days earlier. Yes, I think it's fair to say I'm going to be going back to that mall to make some purchases.

We finished up at the mall and headed back home. Our tuk tuk carrying all five of us popped a tire, so we had to wait a few minutes on the side of the road for a new one. We made our way back, said goodnight to Om Lon, and hit the sack.

I slept like a baby, I was so freaking tired.

First impressions of Cambodia:

1. It is a lot more modern than I thought it would be.
2. It's pretty clean. They have workers who go out and clear the streets of trash and debris.
3. People are very friendly.
4. The food is pretty good. It's definitely growing on me.
5. Surprisingly, the bidet is also growing on me.
6. Even more surprisingly, I'm loving the heat. I love to lay in Om Lon's hammock and read.
7. I have yet to feel really unsafe. I'm still trying to feel everything out, but for the most part I think I could walk around by myself and feel fairly comfortable.

[The photo above is my home for the next three months.]

Cambodia: Week 1 (Almost)