Written about Phnom Penh
Posted from Negombo, Sri Lanka
When we left our guest house next to the river in Phnom Penh heading for the Royal Palace and its Silver Pagoda, we noticed that the activity on the street seemed...a little off. Tuk-tuks, which had nearly crashed into us the night before, were mysteriously missing from the road paralleling the river. In fact, the more we observed we noticed that they were no cars on the street and that police officers were posted at every intersection with handheld radios. Having spent a few years living in D.C., we immediately recognized the preparations for a motorcade. Sure enough, moments later, we heard a siren coming up fast behind us. The two security guards standing next to us politely instructed us to wave at the oncoming vehicles. And there he was. The King of Cambodia, his head sticking out of the open window of his Lexus SUV, waving to the people in the street. Lizzi and I just stared at each other after he passed from view, and then I said, "Dude, we just saw the king!"
Showing posts with label cambodia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cambodia. Show all posts
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Monday, January 28, 2008
It's a Small World After All
Posted from Siem Reap, Cambodia
Wow! I can't believe all of the comments and emails. I'm completely overwhelmed. In a good way. Thank you to everyone who emailed, commented on the blog, wrote on my wall, or called. It really made having my birthday on the other side of the world feel a lot closer to home.
I also have to thank Lizzi. She came clean to me yesterday, telling me that she's rallied the troops to help me celebrate my birthday, and I couldn't be more grateful. She has always been amazing in making my birthday mean so much more than I think it is. It is one of the reasons I love her as much as I do. I love you, sweets!
Here's how I celebrated my 30th birthday. First, we slept in late and ate a huge breakfast, complete with pancakes, bacon, and cold cereal with milk. Milk! I haven't had actual milk in over a month. It's just not something that's easy to come by here. Then, we hopped in a car and visited the temples of Angkor Wat. Unbelievable! We walked on temples that are over 1,000 years old. In fact, one of the temples was abandoned 60 years before Columbus stumbled upon America! There are pictures, I promise. After touring the temples, we came back to the hotel and went swimming, stopping for a drink or two at the swim-up bar. Swimming. In January! I've never gone swimming on my birthday before. Growing up, I was always a little jealous of the summer birthday kids and their pool parties, but no longer. Because I went swimming on my birthday. Did I mention that I went swimming in January?!
We ended the evening with dinner. Lizzi had planned on us going out for fancy meal on the town -- Western or Khmer, whatever I wanted. But it didn't quite turn out that way. By the time we'd finished swimming and rinsed the chlorine off, the hotel's restaurant was closed and the hotel shuttle was no longer running to town. So we ordered room service. I ordered a big burger, my first one of the trip, which is quite a testament to will power and restraint on my part, as well as a glass of Johnnie Walker Blue Label, my first taste of the coveted Blue Label ever. And it was spectacular! I've got to say that traveling in southeast Asia definitely has the perk of cheap top-shelf liquor.
All in all, this was one of the best birthdays I've ever had. Again, thanks to everyone, and especially thanks to Lizzi.
Wow! I can't believe all of the comments and emails. I'm completely overwhelmed. In a good way. Thank you to everyone who emailed, commented on the blog, wrote on my wall, or called. It really made having my birthday on the other side of the world feel a lot closer to home.
I also have to thank Lizzi. She came clean to me yesterday, telling me that she's rallied the troops to help me celebrate my birthday, and I couldn't be more grateful. She has always been amazing in making my birthday mean so much more than I think it is. It is one of the reasons I love her as much as I do. I love you, sweets!
Here's how I celebrated my 30th birthday. First, we slept in late and ate a huge breakfast, complete with pancakes, bacon, and cold cereal with milk. Milk! I haven't had actual milk in over a month. It's just not something that's easy to come by here. Then, we hopped in a car and visited the temples of Angkor Wat. Unbelievable! We walked on temples that are over 1,000 years old. In fact, one of the temples was abandoned 60 years before Columbus stumbled upon America! There are pictures, I promise. After touring the temples, we came back to the hotel and went swimming, stopping for a drink or two at the swim-up bar. Swimming. In January! I've never gone swimming on my birthday before. Growing up, I was always a little jealous of the summer birthday kids and their pool parties, but no longer. Because I went swimming on my birthday. Did I mention that I went swimming in January?!
We ended the evening with dinner. Lizzi had planned on us going out for fancy meal on the town -- Western or Khmer, whatever I wanted. But it didn't quite turn out that way. By the time we'd finished swimming and rinsed the chlorine off, the hotel's restaurant was closed and the hotel shuttle was no longer running to town. So we ordered room service. I ordered a big burger, my first one of the trip, which is quite a testament to will power and restraint on my part, as well as a glass of Johnnie Walker Blue Label, my first taste of the coveted Blue Label ever. And it was spectacular! I've got to say that traveling in southeast Asia definitely has the perk of cheap top-shelf liquor.
All in all, this was one of the best birthdays I've ever had. Again, thanks to everyone, and especially thanks to Lizzi.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Tales of an Adventurous Boy Named Matt
A Birthday Story by Lizzi, posted from Cambodia
Thirty years ago today, give or take twelve hours, across oceans and some continents, a baby boy was born in a strange place called Texas. He came into the world wide-eyed and fair-skinned, and from the moment of his first cry, he was destined for great adventure. His parents called him Matt. Not long after Matt's birth, the parents added to their humble clan a brown-eyed, tan-skinned boy they called Tom, and together, Matt, Tom and their parents took on America, eventually returning to their hometown in Pennsylvania when the time was right.
The younger brother enjoyed the hometown, put down roots and made friends there. Though he circled round part of the American land, he might yet come back to that place of some of his fondest memories. He married a beautiful fair-haired girl from a neighboring town, and as I am telling you this story now, is presently set to become a man of letters, and people will travel far and wide to learn from him. He will no doubt be famous throughout the land for his thoughts and papers, which people will read for generations to come.
But Tom's story and Matt's story are different. While Matt had a strong fondness for the hometown, he longed to see the world and plant for himself the seed of adventure which his parents first sewed in him. He decided to dedicate himself to his country, in the hopes that his country would take him to other countries, albeit peacefully. But as with all good tales, his adventures were interrupted by a girl. The girl is called Lizzi, and though we are of the same name, I can honestly say that I am not acquainted with her at all. When Matt met Lizzi, he knew that his life's adventures were about to begin, and he learned that adventures could be had from the comfort of a living room, perhaps with the accompaniment of a few oversized cats. But the funny thing about love is that it turns both people on their head, and from an upside-down vantage point, things look awfully different. Suddenly, it was Lizzi who wanted to see the world, and she realized she would do anything for the boy she loved, not least because he made her laugh every single day, and what woman doesn't want to follow the sounds of her own giggle? So Matt dashed his longterm plans for the wild blue yonder, and set out for his greatest adventure yet: monogamy.
The adventure of adventures took them to far-off places, places which are also oceans and continents away from where I tell this tale. They lived in Oklahoma, Virginia, Maine, and Pennsylvania, and showed no signs of slowing down. Until one day, not that long ago, Lizzi devised a plan. "Let's go to Asia!" she said, and though Matt was initially nervous about the idea (he had, after all, grown quite used to those cats), he can't say no to the girl whose laughter makes him feel like he's won a prize, and so he said instead, "Yes, let's!" Which brings us, so conveniently, to today, oceans and continents away from everything they have known, in a place where people eat noodles for breakfast, where things that are ancient are so old that they can't even fathom, where, as it turns out, you cannot dig a very deep hole in the sand and get easily to the other side of the planet.
And today, dear readers, is a day of celebration and excitement! Which is why I'm telling this tale to you. It is a day to look into the sky, to seize your adventure, to make someone laugh! Because today is the very same day that Matt was born, and for Lizzi, if this wonderful day had never come to pass, well then some of her best adventures just wouldn't be worth having. It is also a day to think about the adventures of the future, both those that take place in a living room, and those that take place across oceans and continents. Because who knows what the next thirty years will bring? Except, of course, a lifetime of adventure.
The End.
Almost. Because there is one thing that my cheesy story doesn't yet have. And it is this: Happy Birthday Matt! Thank you for taking me on your adventures. Thank you for making me laugh, and for counting a day as a good day when you've made me laugh. Thank you for turning my world upside-down, for helping me to see all of the interesting things you can see when you stand on your head. And most of all, thank you for coming into my life, for showing me the world through your sea-colored eyes. I love you with all of my heart, and I love every day of our lifetime of adventure, even the days when the idea of eating noodles for breakfast make us both want to travel back across the oceans and the continents in an instant. Yes, even those days are an adventure with you, and I will gladly take them over any day without you.
All my love, Always
Lizzi
Thirty years ago today, give or take twelve hours, across oceans and some continents, a baby boy was born in a strange place called Texas. He came into the world wide-eyed and fair-skinned, and from the moment of his first cry, he was destined for great adventure. His parents called him Matt. Not long after Matt's birth, the parents added to their humble clan a brown-eyed, tan-skinned boy they called Tom, and together, Matt, Tom and their parents took on America, eventually returning to their hometown in Pennsylvania when the time was right.
The younger brother enjoyed the hometown, put down roots and made friends there. Though he circled round part of the American land, he might yet come back to that place of some of his fondest memories. He married a beautiful fair-haired girl from a neighboring town, and as I am telling you this story now, is presently set to become a man of letters, and people will travel far and wide to learn from him. He will no doubt be famous throughout the land for his thoughts and papers, which people will read for generations to come.
But Tom's story and Matt's story are different. While Matt had a strong fondness for the hometown, he longed to see the world and plant for himself the seed of adventure which his parents first sewed in him. He decided to dedicate himself to his country, in the hopes that his country would take him to other countries, albeit peacefully. But as with all good tales, his adventures were interrupted by a girl. The girl is called Lizzi, and though we are of the same name, I can honestly say that I am not acquainted with her at all. When Matt met Lizzi, he knew that his life's adventures were about to begin, and he learned that adventures could be had from the comfort of a living room, perhaps with the accompaniment of a few oversized cats. But the funny thing about love is that it turns both people on their head, and from an upside-down vantage point, things look awfully different. Suddenly, it was Lizzi who wanted to see the world, and she realized she would do anything for the boy she loved, not least because he made her laugh every single day, and what woman doesn't want to follow the sounds of her own giggle? So Matt dashed his longterm plans for the wild blue yonder, and set out for his greatest adventure yet: monogamy.
The adventure of adventures took them to far-off places, places which are also oceans and continents away from where I tell this tale. They lived in Oklahoma, Virginia, Maine, and Pennsylvania, and showed no signs of slowing down. Until one day, not that long ago, Lizzi devised a plan. "Let's go to Asia!" she said, and though Matt was initially nervous about the idea (he had, after all, grown quite used to those cats), he can't say no to the girl whose laughter makes him feel like he's won a prize, and so he said instead, "Yes, let's!" Which brings us, so conveniently, to today, oceans and continents away from everything they have known, in a place where people eat noodles for breakfast, where things that are ancient are so old that they can't even fathom, where, as it turns out, you cannot dig a very deep hole in the sand and get easily to the other side of the planet.
And today, dear readers, is a day of celebration and excitement! Which is why I'm telling this tale to you. It is a day to look into the sky, to seize your adventure, to make someone laugh! Because today is the very same day that Matt was born, and for Lizzi, if this wonderful day had never come to pass, well then some of her best adventures just wouldn't be worth having. It is also a day to think about the adventures of the future, both those that take place in a living room, and those that take place across oceans and continents. Because who knows what the next thirty years will bring? Except, of course, a lifetime of adventure.
The End.
Almost. Because there is one thing that my cheesy story doesn't yet have. And it is this: Happy Birthday Matt! Thank you for taking me on your adventures. Thank you for making me laugh, and for counting a day as a good day when you've made me laugh. Thank you for turning my world upside-down, for helping me to see all of the interesting things you can see when you stand on your head. And most of all, thank you for coming into my life, for showing me the world through your sea-colored eyes. I love you with all of my heart, and I love every day of our lifetime of adventure, even the days when the idea of eating noodles for breakfast make us both want to travel back across the oceans and the continents in an instant. Yes, even those days are an adventure with you, and I will gladly take them over any day without you.
All my love, Always
Lizzi
Friday, January 25, 2008
Speaking of War
Written and posted in Phnom Penh, Cambodia
We went to the killing fields today. We saw piles and piles of human skulls. We saw a box full of bones and teeth. They are all that remains in the wake of Pol Pot's destruction.
We went to the killing fields today.
When we first decided to go to Cambodia, people told us that other than Angkor Wat, there wasn't a whole lot to see in the country. "Go straight to Siem Reap," they said. And when I told them that I wanted to go to Phnom Penh to see the killing fields, they looked perplexed. Maybe rightly so. It's not that I WANTED to see the killing fields, it's just that, after spending thousands of dollars on a plane ticket to come to this part of the world, it didn't feel right to abrogate my duty to pay my respects to the thousands of lives that were lost at the hands of an outrageous killer. And that's exactly how I saw it: coming to Phnom Penh, having the day that we had, it was my responsibility.
And so we went to the killing fields today.
We have no pictures from our day, only the grim images that will most likely remain in our minds for a long, long time, if not forever. We will remember the holes in the grounds where hundreds of Cambodians were left to rot, and we will remember the school-turned-prison with its bloodstains still on the floor. We will remember that tower of skulls, and the photographs that were meticulously taken of each prisoner. We will remember the shackles and the chains, the instruments of torture, the peaceful grounds that used to be a nursery.
We will remember that as we sat, grim-faced, heading from the prison to a temple, we were both thinking of the destruction going on in the world today. We thought about Darfur and Sierra Leone. We thought about the Sudan and Kenya. We thought about Guantanamo and Baghdad. We thought about Palestine. We will remember that those devastations, like Pol Pot's devastation, occured in our lifetime. In OUR lifetime.
Sitting in that tuk-tuk today, I thought about my parents and grandparents. My parents could not have stopped these atrocities, just as my grandparents could not have stopped Hitler. And I cannot stop Darfur and Kenya and Guantanamo. Oh, but I will remember.
At the end of our dark day, we asked our tuk-tuk driver to take us to that aforementioned temple. I wanted to say a prayer, because at the end of a day of death, prayer seemed fitting. And it didn't matter to me, not even a little bit, that the prayer couldn't be said in a place where I might normally pray. A house of God is a house of God, and if it was to Buddha to whom my prayer was directed, it was Buddha who would help me find peace again. I will tell you what I prayed for, because it is a message that I wish I could send around the whole world, to people who read this, and to everyone they know, and to everyone THEY know, and so on.
I prayed first for the people whose lives were lost, for their families who could not bury them, for the babies they could not have. I prayed for humanity, for the soul of humanity, which gets inexplicably lost in times of war. I prayed for the child-soldiers who carried out Pol Pot's plans of utter destruction, because I believe in my heart that when the soul of humanity is lost, even the purest of hearts can be persuaded to engage in evil. I prayed for justice, because I believe that I understand that word, because I took an oath to seek it out, and because justice, justice, I shall pursue. I prayed that Matt and I will be able to explain to whatever children we will someday be lucky enough to have, that these things do happen, and that we must remember them. I prayed for old people, that they might be able to forget. And I prayed for all of you, and for all of your children, that we all might someday know a world where these prayers simply aren't necessary, that humanity will find its soul, that justice will prevail. I ended my prayer with a note of thanks, thanking whatever deity was listening, even the one residing right there within me, for the man sitting next to me, for the ability to pray, and for all of the good and wonderful things that I see around me all of the time.
As we drove back to our hotel, I saw an old man playing a version of badminton with what I'm assuming was his grandson. I thought of the stories Matt told me of playing badminton with Tom when they were little. I felt the corners of my mouth curl towards a smile, at the old man and the young boy, and the child versions of Matt and Tom. I took a deep breath, exhaling this day, and decided to write this to you.
We went to the killing fields today. We saw piles and piles of human skulls. We saw a box full of bones and teeth. They are all that remains in the wake of Pol Pot's destruction.
We went to the killing fields today.
When we first decided to go to Cambodia, people told us that other than Angkor Wat, there wasn't a whole lot to see in the country. "Go straight to Siem Reap," they said. And when I told them that I wanted to go to Phnom Penh to see the killing fields, they looked perplexed. Maybe rightly so. It's not that I WANTED to see the killing fields, it's just that, after spending thousands of dollars on a plane ticket to come to this part of the world, it didn't feel right to abrogate my duty to pay my respects to the thousands of lives that were lost at the hands of an outrageous killer. And that's exactly how I saw it: coming to Phnom Penh, having the day that we had, it was my responsibility.
And so we went to the killing fields today.
We have no pictures from our day, only the grim images that will most likely remain in our minds for a long, long time, if not forever. We will remember the holes in the grounds where hundreds of Cambodians were left to rot, and we will remember the school-turned-prison with its bloodstains still on the floor. We will remember that tower of skulls, and the photographs that were meticulously taken of each prisoner. We will remember the shackles and the chains, the instruments of torture, the peaceful grounds that used to be a nursery.
We will remember that as we sat, grim-faced, heading from the prison to a temple, we were both thinking of the destruction going on in the world today. We thought about Darfur and Sierra Leone. We thought about the Sudan and Kenya. We thought about Guantanamo and Baghdad. We thought about Palestine. We will remember that those devastations, like Pol Pot's devastation, occured in our lifetime. In OUR lifetime.
Sitting in that tuk-tuk today, I thought about my parents and grandparents. My parents could not have stopped these atrocities, just as my grandparents could not have stopped Hitler. And I cannot stop Darfur and Kenya and Guantanamo. Oh, but I will remember.
At the end of our dark day, we asked our tuk-tuk driver to take us to that aforementioned temple. I wanted to say a prayer, because at the end of a day of death, prayer seemed fitting. And it didn't matter to me, not even a little bit, that the prayer couldn't be said in a place where I might normally pray. A house of God is a house of God, and if it was to Buddha to whom my prayer was directed, it was Buddha who would help me find peace again. I will tell you what I prayed for, because it is a message that I wish I could send around the whole world, to people who read this, and to everyone they know, and to everyone THEY know, and so on.
I prayed first for the people whose lives were lost, for their families who could not bury them, for the babies they could not have. I prayed for humanity, for the soul of humanity, which gets inexplicably lost in times of war. I prayed for the child-soldiers who carried out Pol Pot's plans of utter destruction, because I believe in my heart that when the soul of humanity is lost, even the purest of hearts can be persuaded to engage in evil. I prayed for justice, because I believe that I understand that word, because I took an oath to seek it out, and because justice, justice, I shall pursue. I prayed that Matt and I will be able to explain to whatever children we will someday be lucky enough to have, that these things do happen, and that we must remember them. I prayed for old people, that they might be able to forget. And I prayed for all of you, and for all of your children, that we all might someday know a world where these prayers simply aren't necessary, that humanity will find its soul, that justice will prevail. I ended my prayer with a note of thanks, thanking whatever deity was listening, even the one residing right there within me, for the man sitting next to me, for the ability to pray, and for all of the good and wonderful things that I see around me all of the time.
As we drove back to our hotel, I saw an old man playing a version of badminton with what I'm assuming was his grandson. I thought of the stories Matt told me of playing badminton with Tom when they were little. I felt the corners of my mouth curl towards a smile, at the old man and the young boy, and the child versions of Matt and Tom. I took a deep breath, exhaling this day, and decided to write this to you.
Another Day, Another Country
Written from Phnom Penh, Cambodia
We made it! We left Vietnam this morning, bright and early, and got on a bus to Cambodia. Yes, a BUS to Cambodia. It occurred to me as we booked the trip that it didn't seem like the smartest way to enter a country, but then I reminded myself that just a few weeks ago, I entered Laos by longtail boat and didn't even bat an eye. Things went smoothly today, all things considered. There was one point where our bus driver took our passports and our money, and I completely and totally lost my shit, but he didn't understand me because he didn't speak a word of English, so he simply handed me back my passport, stamped with an exit stamp from Vietnam and an entry stamp for Cambodia, and smiled. So I, um, calmed the F down, much to Matt's delight. And here we are in Pnomh Penh.
We're not planning to see a whole lot in Cambodia, just two touristic sites ("touristic" is a word we heard from our friends from the UK. I love it. It sounds much more loathsome and undesirable than "touristy," I think.). Here in the capital, we'll mainly stick to the sites that memorialize the grim devastation left by the Khmer Rouge. And then we will probably get drunk somewhere. Rather, if it's anything like I expect it to be, we'll order a drink and then stare at each other as the ice melts and the flavors blend, wondering how, HOW on earth it's possible that people can be that disgusting, and worse, how we can sit comfortably a world away and let it happen. We will not answer our questions. Luckily for Matt, Scotch is awfully cheap here. But then on Friday we're heading to Siem Reap to explore Angkor Wat. We'll be able to explore the ancient temples for about 3 full days, pausing only to celebrate Matt's 30th birthday (!) and swim in the pool at our hotel since it's supposed to be REALLY frickin' hot here. And then we'll find some mode of transportation to take ourselves back to Bangkok for a few days before heading onward to Sri Lanka. Given our track record, we will most likely travel by chariot. Wish us luck.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
