The Journey Home

We are so lucky to have the ability and the means to see all that the world has to offer. Malaysia was beautiful and inviting, vibrant and a feast for all your senses. Cambodia was magical, disturbing and comforting, often all at the same time. I met some very kind, hospitable and interesting people in this last month. I can’t believe it has only been 1 month. These experiences have left a lasting impact on me. I hope to come back again soon.

I am ready to go home. I had a great time traveling but I need me some San Francisco. It will be nice to know how to get around, to not have to haggle for every single purchase, to be able to cook my own food, to be able to brush my teeth with water from the tap, to see my friends, to work again. I am jonesing for a good old fashioned American burrito.

Khmer Culture

I visited the royal palace in the afternoon and as I guessed I would be, was thoroughly bored. It was expensive, $6, by Cambodian standards. I saw quite a few people storm out of line when they found out the price. The structures and grounds were impressive but a lot of it was closed to the public. The King of Cambodia had left in 1970 and remained in North Korea while the republicans, communists and Vietnamese were in power until he was repatriated in 1993. I don’t know the full story about how a King ends up in North Korea to escape communists, but I intend to find out. I bet it’s an interesting one. I haven’t seen them, but I hear his body guards are large, intimidating North Koreans. It makes sense because Cambodian guards and police are not exactly awe inspiring, they look more like chihuahuas than domermans.

After making my way through the gauntlet of gift shop I finally snaked my way out of the theme park, I mean palace, and was the National Museum. I had gone the day before but didn’t have time to complete it. The museum has a beautiful collection, from pre-Khmer to recent history. The only issue I had with the museum is that there isn’t enough to explain what the pieces were. There was so much you want to know about the people who created it, but not much guidance.

On the bus to Phnom Penh, I had met a half German, half Indian man named Frank, his Cambodian wife and their new 8 week old son. Frank is a historian and filmmaker and offered to give us a guided tour through the National Museum. The scale and quality of the pieces was astonishing. This was such a spectacular culture. You can be forgiven to feel sorry for their current state. You have to keep in mind that even though they may be able to trace their history back thousands of years, they are a very new country. Their entire cultural base was nearly annihilated. They are pretty much starting from scratch and have a long way to go.

Later that night I saw an Arak concert at the French Cultural Center. Luckily I had read about it in one of the local dailies at the hotel because the introduction was completely in French. Arak is a pre-Khmer style of music that is older than Christianity or Buddhism. The trance like music evokes spirits from nature to come to the aid of the requestor by inhabiting a medium. The Khmer Rouge aggressively tried to eliminate it, along with all other arts and religion. There are currently only 7 Arak groups left in Cambodia and this was the first time the music was to be heard in Phnom Penh in 14 years. After hearing the conert, I decided right there that I would be working on SealNet’s Cambodia project the next year. Project Cambodia records and raises awareness of traditional Cambodian song and dance. PC’09 here I come.

Potential

The first tourist site I visited was the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum. Teol Sulk was originally built as a high school and was later, under the Khmer Rouge, turned into an infamous detention center. This was a place of horrific tortures and indignities against anyone who fell on the wrong side of the cruel regimes whims, including children. Lashes were given with electric wire, bodies hung upside down until passed out, then revived in bucket of excrement. One of the sleeping quarters consisted of a small room with a bar against one wall with steel shackles where dozens of men women and children would sleep on top of each other and women were raped while everyone else in the room had to remain silent.

You can hear and understand the statistics of the million people killed and another million starved in the few short years when Pol Pot was in power but it’s a very different thing to see pictures of the individual faces and to imagine the stories of their too brief and painful lives. Accounts from survivors who had lost their loved ones are posted in one section of the museum. This is a very chilling experience. The philosophy of the Cambodian people is that you cannot punish all those involved, because it was necessarily almost everyone, no one ha a choice. The primary goal is to document exactly what happened, to uncover the worst of it so that it can’t happen again.

My next stop was down some very dusty road on the back of a motorbike, while the sun fried my skin my mouth filled with grit. I was headed to the Killing Fields. This site was one of 129 identified mass graves throughout Cambodia. There’s a solemn pagoda in the center built to commemorate the dead found at the site, as well as hundreds of their skulls. During the Democratic Republic of Kampuchea, anyone with an education as purged, most city dwellers were killed and the few remaining professionals were killed. The country came out of it when the Vietnamese invaded and occupied the country, even thought the UN continued to recognize the Pol Pot regime as the legitimate power for years to come. After loosing their entire educated base, literacy rate of 0, the country was starting from scratch, and all this happened within my lifetime.

I’m running out of money and in a brilliant scheme to save money I did as any good American would o, I found a hotel that takes American Express so I have more cash to spend on nic-nacs. The place I checked into was sweet. There was a nice pool, great rooms and bathrooms, a cool patio bar, and fast internet. The hotel owner is also an art collector so the place was filled with modern and classical Cambodian art. The bar was just outside my room which I thought would be a problem but the people who go there were really cool. So I spent a LOT of time just hanging out at the bar, even though I didn’t order a single beer the whole time. The people who frequent the bar were young expats from all over the place, now living in Phnom Penh. They were fascinating and creative people doing very interesting things.

Phnom Penh is a lot like the American Wild West. It takes a certain type of character to pick up and move there and to survive. The rules are very different here. Many say there are much greater freedoms in that you can do whatever you want as long as you aren’t stupid about it and know the right palms to grease. Some say the rules are actually the same but on a smaller, less sophisticated scale, extortion being a form of permit system. The people who come here are doing things that they wouldn’t be able to do back home, the opportunities are infinite if you play the game right. I’ve met businessmen, editors, teachers, NGO people, it’s up to your ambition and creativity.

I had also been told on a few occasions that Cambodia offers greater freedom than more developed countries. What they mean is that you could decide to start up a business today an immediately begin selling things from your shop. Eventually someone may come by and ask for his piece and maybe not but it’s up to you to decide if you want to continue your business. I don’t agree, options such as education, dissent and resource availability make this an oppressive society that only those with means can truly exploit.

At the hotel, I had mentioned that I was collecting experiences to write about and meeting people to tell bar stories on. I was invited along on an errand because there was someone interesting I should meet. We went to a bar in the Lakeside area. Lakeside is a bohemian neighborhood where hip locals and foreigners live side by side. It’s where the less upscale ex-pat restaurants and bars are located. The bar we went to had a sign out front advertising itself but it looked closed. The windows were blacked out and the door was locked. My new Swedish friend with ripped jeans, neck tattoos, and shaved head under a garish hat knocked on the door until a Cambodian man answered and allowed us in.

There was, of course, no bar to be seen, it was actually a loft apartment. We were greeted by a Danish girl who offered us a drink. We decided on beer, which she went out to get because there was none there. But first she brought us upstairs to introduce us to a Nigerian and a Thai on the couch and then to the loft bedroom where a Lankan in a loin cloth was waiting for us. He spoke a ridiculous number of languages. Like most people in an illicit trade he was genial and polite, speaking in careful paranoid nuance. And like most successful professionals was eager to tell us his story without sounding like he was bragging. I was asking so many questions that he had hoped I was actually a journalist. Apparently he IS the central drugs dealer in the city, anyone with any quality goods gets their stuff through him. I had asked what the situation is like with the police. Lifting a big bag of opium said I could write his name and the name of his bar on it and hand it to any cop in town and it wouldn’t be any trouble for him, only trouble for me. He explained he sometimes has the police sitting on his couch downstairs while making deals upstairs.

I had to leave as I was late for dinner with someone else involved in international commerce. I had dinner with a Cambodian artist who exhibits his work all over the world. I was told the next day by the hotel owner that he was Cambodia’s most successful modern artist. His enthusiasm and unpretentious love of art were refreshing. We ate at what everyone in Phnom Penh raves about as being an awesome Mexican restaurant. Being from California, I just could not make peace with this place. I suddenly really missed the food back home. The rest of the night was spent back at the hotel bar shooting the shit with more people. The night manager and barkeep was this really cool guy named Rock. He obviously spent a lot of time in the US because he sounded like he was born and raised in Oakland, except smart. I’m already starting to forget names, but if I come back I’ll figure out a way to reach out.

The Road to the Capital

I had until 12:30 until my bus to Phnom Penh so I went back to the tourist market and saw more crap I couldn’t afford. On the way back I stopped by my friendly sugar cane vendor. So far, I’ve gotten sugar cane juice from him ever day for 3 days in a row. There’s always a flock of what I thought were bees that always hover around him. He picked one up to show me there’s no stinger, so I’m not sure what it is. What I do know is that all the insects here are slow and easy o grab.

This must have been the first time I got juice during the day because as he was feeding the pulp into the machine a slow moving fly got caught up in. Then another on the next feed. Oh well, I’ll call it a bug juice protein boost. Sugar cane juice is too delicious to even consider throwing away. Since I was eating bugs anyway I might as well go all out and eat some fried crickets. There are three different types, I tried them all. To my surprise, it was delicious.

I got on the back of a moto with all my luggage and down a treacherous road. Pot holes imply holes the size of pots, so let’s call these truck holes, filled with muddy water.

So far I’ve been recognized every day from by bus adventure. At the bus station, which was more of a dirt parking lot, I ws asked, “how was Cambodian prison?” The bus from Siem Reap to Phnom Penh is a very different experience. First of all it’s airconditioned. The distance is the same but it’s only $10. They start off by passing out moist towelets then a croissant and savory pastry and a bottle of water. It’s cool seeing the countryside this way. You seethe thatched roofed houses and people working in the fields. The alternative was by boat, which takes less time but all you see is water the whole way down, everyone suggested against it.

Even though we broke down on the side of the road for a couple hours while the bus went back to get the wheel fixed the whole thing was quite pleasant. I met a lot of people on he bus.

Sitting in the Library

I decided to take it easy on my last day in Siem Reap. The original plan was to visit some of the further-out temple ruins today, as most people who stay for a third day do. Instead I decided to go back to Angkor Wat with my guide book and really explore the singular site. I do wish I had also gone to Bantay Srei as I heard later it is the oldest and most beautifully carved.

Sitting in one of the libraries, I rode out a monsoon storm. It was blazing hot all day and sweat was pouring out of me and the thunderstorm was welcome relief. You could see my outline, from the wet stain of my sweaty shirt, on the pillar I was sitting against.

Somehow I got to talking to a guy who was plugging in flood lights against one of the friezes. I could hardly understand him but he was interesting all the same and the conversation was worth the couple extra "excuse me, could you please repeat that's."  Apparently he was born in Siem Reap and had just come out of the monastery a couple of years earlier.

A cop offered me his cap with his badge for $10. I told him I wasn’t interested and he asked me to make him an offer.  Ah Cambodia.

My driver for the day told me he wanted me to see the real side of Cambodian living and he was going to take me to a floating village. This is where the very poor live. Their homes are

Grand Tour

I switched hotels this morning. My friend Stuart had recommended a place and I figured it was worth a shot. Where the bus, which took me to Siem Reap, had taken us was a new part of the town, just down this one road that had nothing going on but hotels, totally isolated from everything else. While driving down to the new hotel, I saw a city. From my tuk-tuk I saw bars and restaurants and shops, there were monuments and stores and a river. The hotel I was now staying at was right by the old market, just down a dirt road but still only a few blocks from the center of town.

Today I visited the sequence of sites known as the Grand Tour. This includes the further and less well preserved sites. Some of these were temples created by the same king that created Angkor Thom. To see the temples still broken was very cool. I got some great shots of the jungle creeping back in. There were also much fewer people at these sites because they are more spread out and not as frequently visited as those I saw yesterday. These sites had a very discovering ruins kinda feel. They were not nearly as thoroughly restored and a couple were left exactly as they were when the French first saw them 150 years ago.

Police in Cambodia only make $30 per month so they all have second “jobs.” I started talking to one who was on duty at the temples and offered me a guided tour. I gave him more than I should have but he seemed to know what he was talking about, was interesting, and his English was impeccable. He had grown up in the area and really loved the sites. He was a good story teller and it was pretty cool until he got too into his religious philosophies and the coincidence of numbers, comparing the numbers of fingers to celestial and religious symbols, even if he had to add a couple to make things work. His stories took a decided turn for the interesting when he told me he had joined the Khmer Rouge at the age of 14. He then switched sides under the new government and eventually became a policeman.

The Khmer Rouge had done a number on the sites. They destroyed any Buddhist symbols they found. The heads of stone statues were smashed, metal figures were buried in the fields and bullet holes pepper the wall. To this day, people still go out in the fields with metal detectors looking for artifacts to sell to the international market. I knew a Cambodian years ago who had bought a Buddha statue from a monk which was supposedly dug up. I’ve heard of pieces offered to tourists by police guarding the site. My guide’s current job was to now patrol the area and chase off looters.

My guide eventually explained that he believed Pol Pot was not completely responsible for everything that went on under Democratic Kampuchea and most of the problems Cambodia faced were because of the king that supported him and the Vietnamese that occupied the country after the Khmer Rouge. Probably to be polite, he didn’t mention the US bombings and US backed government of Lon Nol, both of which certainly helped Khmer Rouge recruitment in response.

He showed me a couple of his bullet wounds. I would be surprised if he hadn’t killed in his past. I couldn’t press too many more questions as Cambodian’s don’t feel comfortable talking about that time. There is still debate whether that period of their recent history should be discussed in the schools. Because of the number of people involved and the number lost, the only way for them to move forward is to not hold blame.

Angkor's Wat and Thom

At the pinnacle of their civilization, 8th to 13th centuries, the Kmers built magnificent walled cities for their capitals around Siem Reap. These cities were typically square with entrances in the four cardinal directions, surrounded my a large moat an have a grand temple in the center representing Mount Meru, home of the gods in Hindu mythology. Angkor Wat is the most extensively restored of these. All that remains of Angkor Wat is the temple at the center and, of course, the moat. The temple itself covers 9 hectares, 10% of the total area of the enclosed city. The outer edges of the temple are galleries with intricately detailed, carved in stone, stories of Hindu mythology and Khmer military victory, 600meters in total length, by 2 meters in height. The temple complex is unbelievably big. I have never seen anything on such a large and minute scale. No square inch is left unadorned.

It really makes you wonder how a civilization that was so great and powerful that they could make buildings that will be evidenced forever could just fade away. Some could argue that my own is fast headed for the same obscurity.

On arriving, hordes of children with the same high pitched nasal plaintive voice, in surprisingly good English, flock to you trying to sell you guide books, water and postcards, yes I bought them all. After spending hours soaking in the majesty of this place, and trying to get photos without tourists in my way, I had my driver take me to Angkor Thom, which means great city. This is an aptly named, massive city, covering 9 square kilometers. Of course, these are the modern names of these sites, their original names usually referenced the founder.

As you enter from the south gate you are greeted by a long causeway flanked on one side by a row of gods and on the other side a row of demons. Both are holding a seven headed snake called a naga. The story this is alluding to is when the gods and demons teamed up together to churn the sea by wrapping a naga around a mountain supported by Vishnu in a thousand year tug of war to create the elixir of immortality. Bayon, the central temple of Angkor Thom, being a representation of that mountain. At the end of the causeway is the gate with the image of the king facing all directions. This stone image of the king is particular to the Bayon style.

Interestingly enough, Angkor Thom was originally built by the first Buddhist Khmer king, who’s decedents immediately converted back to Hinduism on his death. The central temple was rededicated to Vishnu and future constructions, like the causeway had Hindu themes. There were originally images of the seated Buddha everywhere which were then shaved down to lingas, which represent Shiva, and eventually when the country became Buddhist, those were carved out to allow place for Buddha statues to rest. Another interesting difference between Bayon and the other Khmer temple is that the stone friezes here depict ordinary life. The are people playing chess and cooking and generally living. Another clear bayon style is the image of the founding king’s face found everywhere. He considered himself the bodhisattva of compassion but his image was later used to represent Shiva.

After a full day of sightseeing I went back to the hotel to take off my soggy shirt and have a shower. Internet is hard to come by in this neck of the woods, so I lugged my laptop to the nearest i-net cafe, about 2 miles down the road, near the only traffic light in town. This town is super shady, there's nothing here but hotels and people harass the fuck out of you asking if you need a ride. I was pretty worried walking down this way with my laptop. Oh, and the street are unlit and there's no side walk. I stopped by the local casino on the road and won $20. I figured it's not a good idea to win or lose big in a third world casino. The internet cafe was closing own by the time I got to it, but the opened back up for me. They occupied themselves catching crickets in bottle to eat later. I was only there for 20 minutes so my bill came out to 12 cents. The smallest I had was a dollar so I now owe him and will have to make the trek again tomorrow night to pay him back.

Border Crossing

The mini-bus to Siem Reap, Cambodia picked me up at the hotel at 7:15AM. After a quick tour around Bangkok we picked up the other 8 passengers on their way to the Cambodian border. Two were Cambodians going home. One guy was from Portland and had been working in Thailand for the last year and now has to cross the border every month to get re-visa-ed. There was a writer for a travel guide called Let's Go, whose assignment is to travel around and discover ATM availability. His destination is the border town, Aranyaprathet. The remaining four of us were tourists on our way to Angkor Wat. 1 English, 1 Italian, 1 Irish and myself.

The ride was very comfortable, and air-conditioned, the train would not have been. I do regret that I was missing out on seeing the countryside as I would have by train, but this really started as a pleasant, easy experience and after all the Bangkok hustle. We stopped once for a snack, then again for gas and finally at a roadside cafe where we met up with 4 other busses and a small man who offered to take us through the visa process for 1000 bhat which is about $33US. The legitimate price is $20US at the border and the five of us crossing agreed to hold firm and demand to pay the correct price and not give in to the corrupt border guards. The whole layover killed over an hour. The Thai border was only a few kilometers away.

At the Thai side of the border the guy coming just for the re-entry visa to Thailand went off to change his currency. We were hoping to catch up with him on the other side since he had experience with the process. The rest of us waited while the people who did pay the bribe had their passports processed. They all got yellow stickers to identify themselves so they wouldn’t get hassled. We killed another hour in the hot sun before we moved on to get Thai exit stamps.

On the Cambodian side, a supposed agent of the bus company directed us to a visa office where they demanded 1300 bhat. The little guy who had offered to take us earlier sat down and was talking with the borer guards; they all are in the network. Thinking we had no other options, as you wouldn’t expect multiple visa offices at the same crossing, we gave in and considered it a valiant but failed effort. Just after we paid the Thai re-entry guy shows up and tells us he paid only $20 and 200 bhat next door. On leaving, the bus agent asked me how much I paid and he said that was a good price. I told him that it was not a good price and our friend paid only 20 and 200 and that he knows that it wasn’t a good price because he’s the one who took us to these people. He, of course, claimed he didn’t know anyone and has only been working for the company for 2 days.

We all climbed into a second bus, which was supposed to take us to where the final coach was waiting. As we drove he told everyone how Cambodia’s economy was doing much better and where it used to be 4000 riel to the dollar, it was now only 3200. He also told us how the total remaining distance is 175 km and will take 6 hours because the roads are so bad, but a car could make it in fewer than 3.



Our first stop was at a moneychanger. I tried to warn people not to use it as the same guy who brought us is the guy who took us to the rip-off visa crooks. Interestingly, the exchange rate just happened to be 3200. The Cambodian riel is pretty much pegged to the US dollar at 4000 to 1. The bus station/ taxi office was right next door. We were told that the next bus wouldn’t be there for another hour. At this point I can’t be sure a bus is coming at all. It was in fact 2 hours before the bus showed. I tried to arrange 2 cars to take 8 of us with a price limit of $40 per car but I wasn't interested in getting one from these people.

I went down the road to see if I could find someone willing to drive us. Walking around the town was trip. The absolute poverty of the area was amazing. I have never seen anything like it. Muddy dirt roads, naked children in the street, shacks. This is much more intense poverty than any third world slum. There was an open-air clinic with nurses administering IVs, open right to the street. We had no luck finding English speakers, neither at the clinic or a guesthouse. Finally a Chinese girl at a restaurant explained that there were no other places to find a cab, where we were was the only one. Chinese people everywhere, they have businesses in places where you would think there couldn't possibly be any money to be made. How is it possible that there are any Chinese left in China?

When I got back I saw someone from one of the other busses had negotiated $52 for a car, close enough. I went inside to speak at the window and they said $80. I insisted that the other guy paid only 52 but couldn’t get anywhere so I walked away to try my luck outside again. As soon as I got out there one of the guys I’m traveling with said the bookers agreed to my price but only 1 car. We were ready to do it, and while getting our bags the bus pulled in. I asked the agent guy if that was our bus and he said it wasn’t, it was a transfer bus like the one that brought us from the border to the bus station. Everyone was lining up for it, so it was clearly the right bus. He insisted we take the taxi, bigger cut for him. With a taxi, I’m not sure they wouldn’t try to get more money out of us or threaten to leave us somewhere half way on the side of the road. I figured if I went to the back of the line, they would not let us on, so I went right to the front to get on, ahead of the line so there’s no issue of him trying to get me in the cab.

This is where my smart mouthing came back to make life difficult for me. The agent told the bus driver I didn’t pay. The guy directing the passengers said I could not get on and asked me to step aside so others could get on. I would not, I know I’m right and I’m not giving these guys another cent. They kept trying to get me to move on. I figured with all these tourists standing behind me, they aren’t about to do anything. I met a lot of them while waiting so they knew I was on the same trip as them. With righteous indignation, my balls were about the size of grapefruits. I refused to go. I kept repeating that I paid, and I’m getting on the bus. A Thai woman with the bus company insisted I was not on the list and everyone else was. I knew this was bullshit because they never checked anyone. They said everyone was waiting and that if I went inside they will take care of everything. They said I didn’t pay and only people with yellow stickers paid. They then said that the bus will just leave and no one could go. I apologized to the folks in line but said I wasn’t budging because this was the right thing to do. A lot of them agreed and voiced their support because we were all scammed at some point by now. A bunch of them were also telling the bus people that I was with them all along and to let me on.

This all went on for the better part of an hour in the sun when the police decided to intervene. 3 Cambodian cops had been sitting inside the ticket office, just hanging out, they must all be friends. One put his arm out to keep me away from the bus and started to pull me away. I knew they wouldn’t do anything with all those people around. Probably not the wisest logic. I wasn’t fighting the cops, I’m not a total idiot, but I wasn’t moving either. While 2 of the police held me back the bus driver backed the bus into the street. To my surprise people started climbing on board, a few of them stopped and asked the cops why they are holding me but eventually they had to continue on their journey. I yelled out to the people boarding, “enjoy your vacation and remember what you are leaving behind. Ask yourself if you chose to stand up for what is right today.” In retrospect it was a corny grandiose statement to make considering it was only a bus ride. But at the time, It felt so badass.

The 4 guys I was traveling with stayed back. I told them to get on the bus, that they might as well go on, there’s nothing they can do, I’ll get on the next bus or I’ll go back to Thailand. But by then the bus had already filled up. The woman checked with her head office for another half hour and finally agreed I did pay. Turns out I was on the list she kept waving around all that time. No apology from her, she just said, “Yes, OK” and laughed a nervous Asian girl laugh. Luckily the next bus came under an hour of the last one leaving.

The bus was old with no AC but it did have windows that allowed a refreshing hot dusty breeze in. The road is only paved (barely) in sections and most is very bumpy dirt road. Apparently it's a whole lot better than it used to be. They say the road will be complete by 2009, but that seems extremely unlikely considering how far they have to go. An interesting site along the way are the rows of floresent lights with nets under them strung in front of the rice paddies. I found out later that these were for catching crickets, a local favorite. It’s a long way and these long segments have given me time to write entries.

My bus met up with the other bus at a restaurant around sunset. The food was pretty bad, and overpriced, but I’m sure that the bus driver gets a nice cut. While at the restaurant a guy who called himself our tour guide went around telling people about this great hotel in town and how he knows we all got scammed repeatedly on the way in but he’s got nothing to do with that. This place is a good place in a good location for a good price. The bus continued on. When we got to town, he sold the shit out of that place which made me even more suspicious. I already wasn’t going to take the advice from anyone affiliated with this bus service but when he talked the place up so much before arriving, I was certainly not. The bus, of course, pulls directly into the hotel as the final destination. I don’t know what the scam was but I think I would have woken up with one or two less organs. The 3 other guys were ready to stay so I said my goodbyes and was about to leave after my cigarette. Yes, I started smoking again. They came back because there was only a fan room, no AC. No problem, there are way more rooms in Siem Reap then there are visitors. The Irish guy and I were going to follow the English and Italian guys, until the tour guy hops on board with them and they drive off. If they are going to be stupid enough to take him with them, they are on their own. Irish and I walk down the road and book stay in a nice little hotel with courteous staff.

The whole ordeal took 14 hours to travel 200 miles

Staying in Hostels Sucks

I’m sharing a tiny room bunk beds and just enough room to open the door. And you have to go through my room to get to the similar layout room next door. When I tried to get to sleep the people next door were talking about their burning diarrheic anuses. Finally they passed out and shortly later my down-bunk mate comes in. Then at 4AM 2 drunken Czechs roll in and wake up the guy sleeping below me, calling him “fucking England” and they get into an inane, and very slurred, conversation about how everyone’s the same and we should all get along despite our cultural differences. Then the English guy explains how some people accuse him of being a Paki terrorist but that he’s not interested in killing when there are so many pretty birds to fuck. I asked them to continue their riveting conversation outside. Being that it was 4 o’clock in the funkin morning. Surprisingly enough, the paper-thin doors of my $12 a night hostel did not provide the sound insulation I had hoped for.

I started out my one day in Thailand following the directions posted on the message board by the illiterate Australian hostel owner. Bangkok has a fast clean and efficient light rail system, which was three and a half block away. Rather than take that, he recommends a water route. So I made my way to the dirty canal and jumped onto the boat which drops you off near the river. I was the only foreigner on the boat, that was cool. That’s where the fun ended. The next leg of the trip was supposed to continue on from the river, but unfortunately, you have to walk to the river to catch the river taxi but the only person there who spoke English told me that today was a special day and that the King implemented a plan to promote tourism. The government was allegedly subsidizing all tuk-tuks (the little scooter-like taxis) and they will take you to any sites you want for the whole day for only 70 cents. He’ll wait for you and take you on to the next place, all day.

I know that if a deal sounds too good to be true, then it probably is, but I am also extremely curious how this will play out. So after confirming the price, I climb on board his friend’s tuk-tuk. As we’re driving down the road to who knows where, because the street signs are mostly in Thai, and when he wasn’t looking I stashed my money in my bag and started imagining being taken to an alley where his friends are waiting for me to harvest my kidneys.

We arrive at the first temple, the standing Buddha, which is 45meters high. Suddenly it occurs to me that this is exactly the Bangkok I remembered, temples and shopping. Oh well, I planned a day of taking pictures of Buddhas so I might as well finish that up. I figured I would head back to the hotel around noon and come up with the roadmap for the rest of my stay. The next stop is the black Buddha. Here I meet a man who tells me he’s from SF and owns Phuket restaurant on Haight Street. He also tells me that he had bought a massive amount of jewelry from the government export shop the day before which he plans to sell to Tiffany’s for a huge profit, as he does every year. The story goes that this was the last day of a one-week a year period when the government suspends export duties on jewelry in this one outlet only. The regular export duty is regularly 198%. I explained I was broke and not here to conduct business. He suggested I should max out my credit cards and pull out all the money I can so I could buy as much as I can and sell it for double.

Coincidentally, that very same export shop was our next stop. I took an obligatory walk inside and chatted with a sales person about how bad traffic is getting in Bangkok. When I left my tuk-tuk driver asked if I had bought anything and I said no, and that I had already explained to him I am not interested in buying jewelry. He then took me to the next temple. Then to a tailor shop. I told him I’m not interested and he explained the scam to me. He gets a 5-liter gasoline card for every shop he takes me to and even more if I buy something. OK, I get it now, no problem I’ll help him get another 5 and maybe buy some trinket to help him out. He takes me to a tailor and a souvenir shop. Everything’s expensive so I walk back out, empty-handed. Now this is getting a little annoying, and embarrassing at the stores. It is also eating away at my day. He tells me, just one more stop, a government factory, very cheap things there. I ended up buying the cheapest thing I could find, a silver ring for about $14. I thought he’d be thrilled but he was totally ungrateful. He then took me to the Marble Temple and told me the other temples were near by and took off. This was fine, the other temples were right there, so I could make a day of it, no problem. At the Marble Temple I met an ethnic Chinese couple from KL. They were snapping hundred of pictures of each other there and asked me to take some of them. A bit later they asked me if I would come with them and see some more temples. I thought, great, we’re going to the same places I could use the company. When we get outside their tuk-tuk driver was waiting for them with the same tourist hassle. We went to the Chinese factory before making it back to a place I could have walked to in a few minutes from where we left. The Reclining Buddha was big. Then we went to a jewelry factory, and then back to pretty much where we started to go to the temple I really wanted to see. Wat Po was beautiful. At first all I did was take an insane number of pictures for this couple. I got bored and snuck away to take pictures on my own. By now I was exhausted and couldn’t bare to see another temple or the palace, so I asked around where the Metro was. I had given my map to the Malaysian couple. I knew the Metro was close but didn’t know how to get to it. No one understood me, except one of the guys who scams you into the tuk-tuks. I explained I had been there and just not interested. He convinced me that one stop for 10 minutes and the driver will take me the rest of the way. Fine, I just want to get home. When I get out of the store the driver offers to take me back for $3, which is actually a lot compared to the fair price. So I get out of his vehicle and do something to him I’m not terrible proud of and he drives away. Right now I’m feeling scammed by everyone. I hate Bangkok. The hawkers, the drivers, the Malaysian tourists, they all wasted my time and made this experience miserable. I find my way to the Metro and to the hostel. I have decided to cut my time in Bangkok short and leave the next day. I booked a bus ride to Siem Reap through my hostel. I was originally planning on taking a $2 train to the border then crossing over and arranging transport the rest of the way. That is certainly possible, but difficult and I don’t want anymore hassle, so I’ll pay for convenience and reliability. I then call my aunt who arranges for me to meet the family over dinner. Everything turned around after that call. I got an awesome Thai massage, a legit one, for only $7. I met for dinner and had a great time. The food was excellent and the conversation was amazing. The topic of conversation very quickly turned to politics as Pooja arrived. She works for an NGO and I would like to explain it here but it’s complicated. They talked about the possibility of demonstrations and how the army is mobilizing again that day in anticipation and that there may be another coup in the next week. Then we started talking about American politics. This family, with the youngest being 17, were better informed about US politics that just about any American I know. It makes sense, because we are pretty much shielded from the effects of our bad policies around the world. We may be struggling economically now but when the economy goes sour in the US, it turns rancid in the rest of the world.

After dinner Pooja took me back to the night market because there were some things I wanted to buy but was scared of the hawkers. It’s amazing how different Thailand is when you are with a Thai speaker. The get quoted the Thai price right off the bat, which is less than half the tourist price. Then they bargain down a little and the transaction is much more pleasant. Meters automatically go one when we sat down, even from the night market. Talking to my cousin was fascinating. She’s so smart, I could have chatted all night but it was getting late and she had to work and I had to get up early the next day. I wish I had called my family before I got here, I could have stayed in a nice house near the airport and had the local view, they could have told me the right places to go and the right way to get there. They are so cool, I hope it's not another decade before I see them again. I finally felt good about Bangkok.