Cambodia: Day 23

[Just another day at the 'ship!]

Wednesday, June 1st, 2011

Om Loon's House in Phnom Penh

8:40 PM

After a solid three weeks of touring around Cambodia, reality settled in and I was reminded the reason why I came here in the first place. Today I began my internship with RACHA. I was excited and nervous all at the same time because I wasn't sure of what I was going to encounter in the office.

I got an early start. I woke up at 5:40, cleaned up a bit, did some scripture study, and ate breakfast. Tuni met Lauren and me outside on the street and we rode our bikes to the RACHA building, about three minutes away. I had to make the journey in a skirt, and as any girl knows, this is no easy task. No matter how hard I tried to keep my skirt from riding up, it still managed to go to great heights. I finally gave up and just embraced the fact that the whole neighborhood could see what color spandex I was wearing.

I walked into my unit, Child Health and Nutrition, and introduced myself to some of the employees already there. I noticed that the woman in charge of the unit, Dr. Chan, wasn't there, so the other people told me to take a seat until she arrived. Less than thirty seconds passed and she was there. I introduced myself and, in a very thick Cambodian accent, she asked me if I had been assigned anything by Thearry, the executive director of the organization. A little confused, I said no. She continued to ask me what sort of things I was interested in and then led me to a desk where Chris, an English woman who is also an advisor to the unit, normally sits. Then she showed me a shelve full of files that I could use at my discretion.

And … That's about it.

I wasn't given any direction on what to do. I was left to my own devices as I sat at the desk, glancing at the people around the small office. Two men to the left. Two women, one of them an intern, in front of me. Dr. Chan's desk to the right. I wanted to look capable of doing something other than just sitting, so I got my computer out of my backpack and attempted to get on the internet. Dr. Chan came over and, after I asked for the passcode for the wireless, she promptly showed me the cable I was to use to access the web.

Ok, Andee. Think. Think of what you could do to not make yourself look completely useless.

I grabbed the RACHA reports that Sathardith had given us during our orientation out of my backpack and set to work. I read up on all of the current projects going on in the Child Health and Nutrition unit, tried to orient myself with all of the acronyms, and put my highlighter to good use. I looked up a few words I didn't know and wrote notes in the margins. It was a good start.

Unfortunately, all good starts must come to an end. A few hours passed and I was finished with the material. I racked my brain for ideas of what to do next.

Ok, Andee. You're done with the reports, now what are you going to do next? Research. Think of some research you could do for RACHA.

I thought the aspect of using nuns and Wat Grannies as sources of health education and diagnosis in rural villages was an interesting topic. The more I looked into it, though, the more I found that a good amount of research had already been applied to that specific program. A little frustrated, I struggled to think of other topics that would be of particular interest to me.

Time passed and I felt defeated. I still wanted to make good use of my time, so I got caught up on some journaling before our lunch break rolled around. Oh man, was I excited when it was lunch time. My stomach was feeling exceptionally empty, but Om Loon's cooking hit the spot, as usual. I retired to our room for a quick nap before we had to return to work at two.

I returned to work to see Spencer and Rob talking to Dr. Chan at her desk. Rob is conducting his own research about developing some sort of study abroad/internship program in South America that would be similar to ours. He was asking questions that I especially wanted to know the answers to, so I tried my hardest to eavesdrop, but unfortunately my hearing isn't quite as good as it once was. He filled me in later, though.

Compared to the morning, the afternoon session proved to move at a glacial pace. I was burning through stick after stick of gum, feeling a little uneasy about how I would be spending my time with RACHA. I continued to glance around at my new co-workers, wondering what they could possibly be so busy with. The guy to my immediate left seemed to be particularly busy, leaving his computer frequently to refill his glass with water. He also seemed to enjoy clicking his mouse in excessive increments.

There is no doubt that he's playing Minesweeper.

Finally the clock struck five and I was ready to be out of there. Thankfully, Dr. Chan took the opportunity to talk to me before I left, apologizing for not having had time all day to really sit down and talk with me about the opportunities available to me in my internship. Hopefully next week on Monday or Tuesday I'll be able to really get an idea of what I want to do and get to work...

Cambodia: Day 17

Thursday, May 26th, 2011

We ventured out early this morning so that we could be one of the first people to enter Angkor Wat. After a night of struggling to sleep without a pillow on a very small bed next to Lauren, I was grateful to finally hear my alarm go off at about 5:45 AM. I hopped out of bed, got ready, and headed downstairs for breakfast.

Are those … are those pancakes?! The continental breakfast was wonderful. Never in the US would you see a bin full of pancakes and hash browns next to a bin of fried rice and noodles.

We hopped into a large 12-person Mercedes van and made our journey to the Angkor Wat complex, a large national park that houses many temples, both large and small, and other historical sites. The compound is so large that it takes many days to see all the temples, so we bought a three day pass for each person in the group.

This was it. After months of waiting, I was finally going to feast my eyes upon Angkor Wat. We drove for a few miles through thick forest, rounded a corner, the trees on the far side of the moat parted, and the towers of the temple pierced the sky. It was surreal. For so long this temple had been a wandering thought, a place in my mind that I would travel to when I dreamt about Cambodia, and now I was here.

I walked across the moat on a jetty made of stone. Each individual stone had two to four small holes drilled into its body. Ralph informed us that they would drill the holes, stick wood dowels into each hole, and then carry each stone to the site. Just another example of the great ingenuity of the Kampuchean people.

The jetty traversed, I made my way to the wall that surrounds the temple. Just inside the entrance stood an older man, handing out incense to be given to a statue of Buddha just around the corner. I didn't want to be disrespectful, so I kindly accepted two sticks of incense and made my way to the Buddha. Another man was waiting there and directed me to stand next to him. He then put his hands together in asompeah and proceeded to bow towards the statue repeatedly.

"Mother, father, sister, brother, niece, nephew, boyfriend."

Then he stopped, I put the incense sticks into the sand, and he motioned to the Buddha's feet where a ten dollar bill was lying.

"Now you pay an offering."

You have GOT to be kidding me. I committed a travel faux paux and fell face first into a tourist trap.

"Nah, I'm good, but thanks anyway." I abruptly left before he could make more demands. I walked through the last bit of tunnel and made my way to the inner grounds. The overcast day made for a heat that was very bearable as I continued my journey toward the main temple.

To try to explain the enormity of Angkor Wat would be a futile effort. I meandered through its various chambers and passages, picturing orange-clad monks and Kampuchean citizens roaming the estate. The feeling of history was overwhelming. It's no wonder the people of Cambodia are so proud of their heritage.

A young Cambodian boy was standing near one of the common areas. He saw me taking photos and, pointing to himself said, "Picture?" I knew it was a tourist trap and that he would undoubtedly ask me for money afterwards, but I was just too raptured by his cuteness to say no. He posed against a pillar and I snapped a photo.

He promptly stuck out his hand. "One dollar."

Heck no, kid.

I sweetly said no and continued to walk on. He followed me.

"One dollar … one dollar … one dollar …"

He wouldn't leave. So I gave him a stick of gum instead.

Lauren and I eventually found each other as we came upon a Chinese couple. The couple were taking photos of something outside, but we couldn't quite tell what. As we approached, we were excited to see a monk standing outside on some stairs near a passageway.

I love monks. Love, love, love.

We watched as he politely posed for them, his orange garb floating in the breeze. I wanted a picture so bad, but was nervous to ask for it. Lauren, sensing my desire, went up and asked the monk after the couple had left. We had a small conversation with him; we asked him his name and his age. I can't really remember his name, but I do remember that he was 25. I was expecting him to say 16 or 17, but Cambodians tend to look a lot younger than they actually are. The best part was when he was trying to pronounce our names. He giggled and covered his mouth, causing Lauren and I to giggle ourselves.

Monks are the best.

I eventually found my way to the stairs leading to the topmost towers. As I walked past the guards to follow my team, I was promptly stopped and told I couldn't go up. The guard pointed towards my soccer shorts: "Too short."

Great. I came all the way to Cambodia, all the way to Angkor Wat, just to be denied access to the coolest part of the building. Awesome.

I retraced my steps until I was out of the line. I walked to a corner of the plaza and stared up at the towers. At first I was frustrated. To have the amazing opportunity to go to Angkor Wat and not be able to tour the entire temple was a little unsettling. I shrugged it off, though. Even though my shorts, which weren't revealing even by BYU standards, caused me to miss out on the pinnacle of the excursion, I respected their decision. Just as we in the Church value modesty, so do the Buddhist people, especially when it comes to their sacred places. I accepted and appreciated the choice they made to turn away travellers who don't measure up to their dress standards.

Continuing my tour, I inspected the rest of the temple. I made friends with a man from Hong Kong who offered to take a picture of me as he watched me struggle to take one of myself with the temple in the background. We made small talk, I told him I was here on internship, etc.

I finished my tour of the temple and made my way back to the front. I sat on one of the large stone bannisters, looking up at the towers, wishing I was there. As I was walking back into the temple to pass the time, Spencer called me and suggested I go buy a cheap sarong from the market so that I could do the rest of the tour. Genius! Why didn't I think of that?

I got my game face on while I walked across the lawn toward the vendors. I had already been sighted. "Lady! You want to buy so you can go up to the top?" "Lady! You want cold drink?" Lady! Lady! Lady!"

I picked one from the crowd and she took me to her stall. I promptly found a pair of green fisherman pants and bargained enough to get them down to four dollars. I changed in the back of her store; she stayed around and showed me how to wear them correctly, bless her heart. I had been wearing the fisherman pants I bought backwards!

Finally, I was at the top of the building. The view was great. Unfortunately I got there right behind a pack of Asian tourists, so the standing room was a little difficult to maintain, but other than that I enjoyed it. I was in and out in about ten minutes, not wanting to hold the rest of the team back.

Once Angkor Wat was said and done, the group headed to another temple within the park. Our driver took us to Bayon, the temple with all of the huge heads. I hadn't seen any of the other temples other than Angkor Wat, but I knew this one would be my favorite of them all.

We finished at Bayon and decided it was time to eat. I bought a pineapple from a young girl while everyone else was munching on ice cream. We found a small outdoor restaurant and the professors ordered while the rest of us ate what we brought. I gobbled down the peanut butter and raisin bread I had purchased a few nights before and sipped on a banana shake. Delicious.

We headed to another temple, this one being a little smaller and much more remote than what we had already seen. We only saw a few other tourists, so that made enjoying this temple a much easier experience. I don't remember the name of the temple…

Our last temple of the day was Ta Prohm, famous for the strangler trees overpowering the building and its setting in the feature film "Tomb Raider". It was a very large temple in the sense that it covered a lot of area. Ralph had told us that the last time he had been there, someone showed him a carving of a stegosaurus. Yes, a dinosaur was depicted somewhere within the temple. Two things needed to be found: the tree that played a special role in Tomb Raider, and the stegosaurus.

We found the dinosaur first. Someone said it was a rhinoceros, not a dinosaur, but I've never seen a rhinoceros that looks so dinosaur-ish.

We finished up the day by getting fish massages with Dr. Hyer, Joel, and Rob.

Day of many firsts, I'd say.

[Ta Prohm, made famous by Tomb Raider.]

[Inside Angkor Wat.]

[Street urchins outside Angkor Wat.]

[Bayon, my favorite temple.]

[Angkor Wat.]

[Angkor Wat.]

T

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.]