Month: July 2005

Hi Folks,
 
Just when you thought you’d heard the last from us, we’re back.  This travelogue is actually coming to you live from Mexico City (although don’t expect to hear too much about Mexico – we just got here yesterday and have some serious catching up to do!)
 
When you last heard from us, we were heading to Cambodia…If you’re already familiar with Cambodia’s torrid recent history, you might want to skip the following few paragraphs. If not, read on as Phil tries to give an ultracondensed mini-account….
 
—————————–
How US imperialism wreaked havoc in another country and Communism was both good and bad for Cambodians (I think…)
by Sarah Fierberg Phillips, age 29
 
So, after WW2, as the French were losing their colonial empire and getting pushed out of S.E. Asia by Ho Chi Minh, the French kept putting different Cambodian royal families on the throne.  They finally settled on King Sihanouk. This guy is a slightly egotistical but beloved monarch who makes films, happens to be a great negotiator, and spent the Khmer Rouge years living in luxury in North Korea. That comes later. At this point in the story (the 1950s and early 60s), the King is doing his best to remain neutral in an era of increasing American intervention in S.E. Asia. Except for somewhere during the Vietnam War, King Sihanouk let (maybe he had no choice) the North Vietnamese build part of the Ho Chi Minh trail in Cambodia. This in turn, led the Americans to freak out and support (i.e. fund) a coup, forcing the king into exile and giving the government to this guy named Lon Nol who didn’t really have a following and couldn’t keep his army together. Then the Americans started bombing the fuck out of the Eastern border of the country. All this American imperialist violence helped the radical Khmer Rouge (led by Brother Number One: Pol Pot) build a peasant army. It’s kind of an over-simplification (we are short of space,) but the Khmer Rouge had a great socialist/nationalist liberatory message (kind of like Ho Chi Minh). They marched into Phnom Penh and falsly persuaded the entire population that they were about to be bombed by the Americans and forcibly evacuated everyone– moving them to hard labor in the country. During their four years in power, the Khmer Rouge killed somewhere between 1/3 and half the population in their efforts to purge the entire middle and upper class (along with the educated, people with glasses, and anyone who was not ethnically Khmer) and return the country to an classless agrarian paradise– unpolluted by things like doctors, machines, currency, or literacy! Somewhere in the midst of all the purging and a losing war against the Vietnamese, Khmer Rouge leaders began turning on each other. Then, members of the Army, who were afraid of being murdered by their leaders or the Vietnamese, defected, basically. They crossed the border, went to jail, and convinced the Vietnamese to support them in a war against the Khmer Rouge leadership. The Vietnamese-backed Khmer Rouge ex-soldiers won and sent Pol Pot running to the hills near Thailand where his soldiers continued to fight, remaining in control of the area until the late 90s. King Sihanouk supported Pol Pot’s team from N. Korea– there’s a long-standing fued between the Cambodians and the Vietnamese and the Khmer Rouge had that nationalist thing going for them. The Chinese supported Pol Pot too. They were jealous of Vietnam’s relationship with the Soviet Union and got a lot of cheap rice from the Khmer Rouge. Surprise suprise the AMERICANS supported Pol Pot too. Sore losers from the war with Vietnam, it seems. While the Khmer Rouge were fighting in the hillside, King Sihanouk returned home, more Khmer Rouge soldiers defected to the Vietnames-backed regime, and (after a ton of UN intervention and several coups) the monarchy and the Vietnamese-backed ex-Khmer Rouge are running the country in peace and harmony…Except for that one time in 2000 when a rich Cambodian-American exile paid for a bunch of mercenaries and tried to overthrow the government.
 
—————————–
Our one day in Phnom Penh turned out to be an all-too-brief highlight of our trip, especially because we successfully avoided some serious touting and found our own oasis.  Let us explain:  We bought our bus ticket from Ho Chi Minh City to Phnom Penh from one tourism company, who drove us to the border, where we walked across.  On the Cambodia side, we met a 2nd bus company, who had bought us from the 1st company.  They promptly sold us to a hotel. The way this works is that about a mile from town, a bunch of guys from the hotel get on the bus.  They are full of friendly advice and tell you all about their wonderful hotel – how centrally-located it is, how inexpensive, etc.  Then the bus pulls up at the hotel.  It is important to note that the bus doesn’t merely pull up in front, but actually parks inches from the entrance, effectively sealing you off from the street.  This time, though, we were prepared.  An army of uniformed hotel staff was already grabbing people’s luggage and ushering all the passengers into the hotel.  When Josh questioned their intentions, they claimed he could have his bag AFTER he had a look at the rooms. Phil saw what was going down and decided to make a break for it.  Taking advantage of Cambodian men’s chivalrous reluctance to touch white women, she seized our backpack in one hand and Josh’s arm in the other.  We pushed out behind a big metal sign out into the street, where a dozen drivers were already waiting to try and take us to other hotels.  Annoyed that we had escaped, the hotel guys quickly moved the sign to keep other travelers from seeing our escape route.
 
We ended up at the most beautiful guest house.  Phnom Penh is a huge capital city with a million inhabitants, but somehow there is a big, relatively undeveloped lake right in the middle.  Our entire hotel was built on a giant wooden dock extending out into the lake.  We arrived at sunset and were immediately taken with the pretty views, the smiling Cambodian family who ran the place, and the chaise lounges they rolled over to us as soon as we checked in. 
 
Over the next few days, we came to appreciate the mellow ambiance of this urban oasis, especially as we came in contact with Phnom Penh’s seedy underbelly.  One of the things we loved about the place was the friendly mix of folks hanging out at all hours, from the dozen or so family members of all ages to various Euros on tour, some of whom were so comfortable they seemed to have no intention of leaving the Smile Guesthouse.  Among these were two women whose divergent approaches to Cambodian assimilation fascinated us.  The first was a young Belgian hippie girl, who spent her days playing with the young girls in the family, flirting with the 20-something sons, and doing her best to be invited to every family occasion and meal.  The other woman, an Aussie, took a more Hunter S. Thompson approach.  She spent every night drinking, smoking, and gambling with Cambodian men while mastering the incredibly intricate rules of the nation’s favorite card game.  She regaled us with stories of buying weed from policemen in Sihanoukville.
 
Just when we were being lulled into thinking that the rumors of Phnom Penh’s roughness were unfounded, we experienced our Day of Crime.  It started when, as in every other city we visited, we rented bicycles to explore the town.  A short ways away from our hotel, we stopped to admire the city’s most important Wat and locked our bikes to a tree in a well-populated area.  Upon returning a few scant minutes later, we discovered that our two bicycles were now only one, and our crappy third-world bike lock had been busted.  We ended up having to buy a new bike for the family that had rented it to us.  But after watching their son happily tool around on his shiny new bike, we felt like it was 35 bucks well spent (not to mention some other kid who probably got a “new” bike from us too).  Plus we got to learn how to ride 2 people on one bike!
 
Later that evening, we left the hotel in search of some dinner.  Despite being in a busy tourist area, the streets were surprisingly dark and deserted.  We were a little nervous, but our destination was only a block away.  As we were walking, a car passed alongside us.  It seemed like the driver was eyeing us, reluctant to pass.  Finally, he drove off.  A second later, a kid ran out of nowhere and hurled a huge brick at the car.  It smashed the back windshield, and the kid took off.  All the neighbors came out to see what was going on, and the driver ruefully stared into the darkness where his attacker had disappeared.  We decided that a hasty exit was most appropriate.
 
Our next stop was Siem Reap, “Gateway to Angkor Wat”, where a diptych greets new arrivals in town.  On one side, a man has been shot.  His wife is crying over him, and their child is abandoned in the streets.  On the other side, the family is happily crossing the street together.  The caption reads, “We don’t need weapons anymore.” 
 
Siem Reap certainly felt more peaceful than edgier Phnom Penh — except for our experience getting off the bus on our arrival.  We were fortunate to have arranged to be picked up by representatives from our next guesthouse.  This was very good, because the minute our bus pulled up, we were swarmed by hundreds of young men, each screaming the virtues of his guesthouse and grabbing us as we exited. 
 
We were relieved to avoid this near-riot, but our happiness quickly evaporated as we realized we were about to face the moment we had been so assiduously avoiding for our whole trip:  our first motorcycle ride.  Yup.  That’s right.  You all know how much we’ve enjoyed writing about motorcycles… now there we were, clinging to the backs of our teenaged drivers, as they chattered to us, answered their cell phones, and asked us to carry things for them.  Then it started to pour…Obviously, we survived.  It was even a little bit fun.
 
Angkor Wat is everything it’s cracked up to be, with miles and miles of amazing Medieval temples, ruins, and stone carvings.  We spent thee very different days exploring the ancient cities.  The first day was our high-speed tuk tuk adventure, doing the Grand Tour around some of the more distant sites.  The pyramids were unbelievable, but we were also struck by the tiny capitalists who hung around them, assailing visitors with suprisingly sophisticated English.  Their sales pitches included showing off their knowledge of world capitals, giving us their drawings in hopes of a purchase, and, if all else failed, just following us up impossibly steep pyramids and repeating, “10 bracelets for 1 dollar.  1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 bracelets.  You buy from me!”  If ignored, they would exclaim, “Maybe you buy from me later!”  When later came and we still refused their postcards and flutes, we were met with angry shouts of “You say you buy but you not buy!  You very bad person!”  They even remembered us the next day and continued their verbal abuse.  The wrath of an eight year old at five in the morning is a terrible thing indeed.
 
…As amusing/annoying as these youthful entrepreneurs were, we were saddened to realize that so many families depend on the labor of their tiniest children.  During the Khmer Rouge years, children as young as 8 were forced to undertake major civic works projects such as dam-building.  And while the economy of Cambodia is improving, the forces of globalized manufacturing seem equally keen on exploiting the docility and inexpensiveness of child labor…
 
After the rapid pace of our first day at Angkor, we slowed the pace considerably on the second day.  After a tasty breakfast of “Happy Pizza” (the Cambodians have an admirably enlightened policy towards a certain popular herb), we spent a long afternoon admiring lichen-covered rocks, trees growing through ancient walls, and life-sized carvings of elephants, all the while slowly cruising around on bicycles.  We ended that day with a beautiful sunset view from atop one of the tallest pyramids and were back the next morning at 5 to do sun salutations as the sun rose over Angkor itself.
 
One interesting aside about Angkor Wat is that, although archeologists have known about the ruins for centuries, Cambodia’s violence and rapid regime-changes have kept them away until very recently.  Today, the site seems to be a goldmine for researchers.  We met a French student measuring rates of water absorbtion by ancient rocks, compared Japanese and Australian conservation and reconstruction techniques, and watched a fascinating documentary about the use of satellite imaging to track the city’s ancient roads and waterways. 
 
From Siem Reap, we flew back to Thailand for a few days at the beach in Ko Pagnan.  Although we had been looking forward to this for our entire trip, it didn’t turn out quite the way we planned.  Phil was incapacitated by another round of stomach bug, Josh tried to snorkel but was battered by strong waves and sharp coral, and we took the scariest boat ride of our lives.  Then, it was off to Bangkok for dinner at the lovely Shanti Lodge and a long-ass plane ride home.
 
We were so grateful to have three weeks of rest and relaxation in beautiful Berkeley.  It is super fun to have a vacation somewhere you used to live:  you have friends around and you already know the fun things to do.  That said, we didn’t actually do much besides sleep late, play with our friends, eat at all our favorite restaurants, and hang out in the kitchen at our old coop.  Seriously, we didn’t even make it to San Francisco until our last week in town. 
 
We did, however, get to take John’s ancient Mercedes out for a spin.  When is the last time you drove a car 10 years older than you?  One, I might add, that starts by pulling on a knob, runs on biodiesel, and is twice as big as everything else on the road.  It was awesome!!!
 
So was visiting the ever-wonderful Berkeley Bowl, which has the best produce in the world.  We easily found the fresh baby-corn we were seeking, and cracked up when we found green cooking mangos in their own section. 
 
One disappointment, however, came when we needed to get our fancy clothes pressed in preparation for Jenn and Kevin’s wedding.  The dry-cleaners we visited didn’t seem to think they could iron 4 pieces of clothing in 24 hours.  In Vietnam, we knew they could have made us a whole new set of clothes in less than 24 hours!
 
That just about brings us up to date– except for our photo essay of the Taipei airport, which will be forthcoming if there’s enough demand.  We’re off to visit the “Berkeley of Mexico City” tomorrow.  We’ll let you know how it compares to the real thing in our next installment, which hopefully will be written from language school in Oaxaca.  Till then, we’ll eat a taco in honor of each and every one of you.  Keep us posted.  We love hearing from family and friends when we’re far away from home. 
 
Hasta Luego,
 
Phil y Josh