Praising or Raising: Cambodia



Praying to Buddha in Angkor Wat

I don’t pretend to be a bible scholar or even a by the book type of Christian; in all honesty I’m probably more like a heathen in sheep’s clothing. Whatever the case, sometimes I’ll see or hear something and it corresponds so keenly with stories I’ve heard from the Bible or things I recall a preacher or two saying and I’m left dumbfounded because it actually makes sense.  It clicks. For example, take the story of the Tower of Babel from the Bible.

The cliff notes version of the story is that up until that time in history there was only one common language. So people got together, talked, and decided they wanted to do something big; build a tower to reach heaven. The story says that God came down, saw how they were pulling their efforts and knew that they were doing it for their own glory, instead of His. Needless to say, He wasn’t happy so He confused the languages causing people to abandon the idea and disseminate across the land. However, He did recognize the power accessible to humanity when operating under a common purpose.

After first hearing this story, one might leap to the conclusion and think that God might be a hater. I’m not saying that I did, but someone else might. Think of all of the really great things we could have accomplished if we all spoke the same language and operated with the same objective.  Even now, if the people around the world could combine their energy and solidify their purpose, we could eliminate hunger, find a cure for AIDS and Cancer, or create a world economy or political system that works for everyone. The options are endless! Who would want to thwart progress?!

So where am I going with all of this? Stick with me...

Angkor Wat

Mom and I visited two cities in Cambodia, Phnom Penh and Siem Reap. For me, Siem Reap with all of the Temples of Angkor was the highlight of our trip. In Angkorian times, people believed that only the gods had a right to reside in places made of stone. So the 1000+ stone temples scattered across Angkor are a testament to the magnificence of human willpower and faith. I was in awe at how the Khmer people, operating with a common purpose of praising their gods, could build monuments so strong, so large, and so awesome that they still stand more than twelve centuries later.  I was looking forward climbing and exploring those temples like a black Lara Croft and as such had allocated most of our time there, but first we had to get from Phnom Penh.

Royal Palace in Phnom Penh

When we arrived at the boat dock for Phnom Penh, we immediately tracked down a taxi to take us to our hotel. “Ten dollars” he said, as he walked us towards his car.  Having been in Asia for over a month now, I automatically replied “No, five dollars.” Haggling for prices is an art across South East Asia and it was something I had to learn quickly, otherwise I’d be paying tourist prices everywhere I went. “What do you want a lawn mower or a nice car?!” he inquired incredulously while simultaneously hoisting our bags into the trunk of his gleaming, pimped out Mercedes. Clicking the trunk closed, he replied “Fine!” as he tossed his hair over his shoulder and waved his long finger nailed and nicely manicured hands draped in gold jewelry and an amethyst ring the size of a small child, which he later informed us “cost entirely too much!”



Our Tuk Tuk driver

Surprised by his response, I woke up and actually took in my surroundings for the first time. On my right was an Asian version of Twan from In Living Color’s Men on Film and on my left were approximately two hundred people doing body rolls in a Zumba class being held on the beach. You’re not in Vietnam anymore Dorothy; welcome to Phnom Penh. Phnom Penh is sassy and mom and I were enthralled by the city. With a limited amount of time there, we arranged for a Tuk Tuk driver to take us to the Killing Fields, the Foreign Correspondents' Club (FCC) and to the Royal Palace the following day.

The stupa at the Killing Fields

The Killing Fields of Cheung Ek is a memorial park built on the grounds of one of the 20,000 mass graves used to hold the remains of the estimated two million people executed during the Khmer Rouge regime’s genocide in Cambodia. At the center of the memorial is a commemorative stupa, holding the skulls of the victims found at Cheung Ek. The memorial also has a museum, or rather an exhibit, re-telling the history and displaying the tools used to execute the victims. Pictures of soldiers slamming babies against trees and of the leaders being brought to justice in the war crime tribunal show an eerie, chilling and atrocious tale of Pol Pot’s ability to corral people into operating with one common goal of "restarting civilization.”

Having just visited the War Remnants Museum in Vietnam a few days earlier, I was overwhelmed by death while visiting the Killing Fields. In particular, I was appalled by the vicious ways in which we interact with each other and reminded again how one goal can catapult a nation or a people to commit such massive horrors against one another.

This is where the Tower of Babel comes in…

Mass grave marker #6 at the Killing Fields

Having visited two cities, Phnom Penh and Siem Reap, in the same country and seeing the awe inspiring results of people acting with common purpose; I now understand the need to scatter the languages. If God has suspected that we would find the cure for cancer, eliminate hunger or only operate in a spirit of benevolence, then He may have left us to our own devices. But I think, He ultimately understood our nature; that we were capable of both extreme benevolence and severe malevolence. If the options are limitless in terms of what we can achieve when working together, then that really is a double edged sword. So instead of having one giant, worldwide conscious or purpose, we have people everywhere either praising the heavens or raising hell and somewhere in the midst of that there is balance.

Faces of Bayon

Hungry? How about beetles and crickets?

Cambodian gas station in the country side.

The entrance into Angkor.

The skulls inside the memorial

We took a hot air balloon ride... No me gusta!

Angkor Wat

Size Matters: Mekong Delta



Floating Market: The stick in the air let's passerbys know what this vendor is selling.

When travelling with someone, there’s a point where you click and you begin thinking, saying or feeling the same way about different situations. For mom and me, this happened on our two day Mekong Delta excursion from Vietnam to Cambodia.

Going to the chapel on the Mekong Delta.

Now, Cambodia doesn’t have a train system, so options are limited in terms of getting around. Nevertheless, travelling “overland” is a badge of honor for many backpackers due to the craziness of it and I figured that mom needed to have that experience as least once. So, we opted for the bus/boat option of crossing the border from Vietnam into Cambodia. The added benefit of this option was a two day “cruise” on the Mekong Delta, which included a visit to the floating market, an overnight stay on a floating hotel, dinner, and visit to Chau Doc Village, which is a Muslim community along the border.

We hopped on the bus and quickly learned that size really doesn’t matter in Vietnam; Vietnamese bus drivers are just as clinically insane as the taxi and tuk tuk drivers there.  Which means that we spent many hours driving towards the Mekong Delta surrounded by shouts of “Oh my God!”, “Ouch!”, “This is crazy!”, and my personal favorite, which was screamed from the back of the bus to the Vietnamese driver who was in the wrong lane passing four cars around a blind corner - “Look out!”

Once we arrived at one of the Mekong Delta piers, we boarded a slow boat to tour the floating market. The floating market is where farmers sell all of their goods to vendors who then take them into larger cities and towns and sell them to consumers. In Vietnam the floating market is essentially a wholesalers market; however, the Mekong isn’t just a place of business. People live on this river; their houses line the sides of the river or they float along in house boats. They bathe in this river; throw their trash into the river, children swim in this river, and mothers use the water for cooking, which the tour guide said was safe because the water was boiled. I was in awe… The Mekong Delta is a cornucopia of civic utility services (e.g. sewage, commerce, water, transportation, etc.) all rolled up into 15,000 square miles of brown, flowing, nastiness and I was seeing it with my own eyes!

As soon as we got back to the bus, mom broke out the hand sanitizer wipes (exactly what I was thinking) and we rode another few hours towards Chau Doc, where we were sleeping for the remainder of the night in a floating hotel. Mom and I didn’t know what to expect in terms of our accommodations because we booked a package deal through a travel agency and there wasn’t a lot of detail, but when we got there she said, "oh, this is really nice". (Exactly what I was thinking.) The room was large with two queen size beds, air conditioning, and a nice size shower and bathroom. We settled in nicely and twenty minutes later there was a knock on the door. “Um, Madams, sorry but we put you in the wrong room. You’re supposed to be on the other boat.”

The "view" from our hotel window.

We packed up our bags and made our way to the speed boat which took us to another floating hotel. I was behind my mom as she opened the door to our new room and all I had to do was read her body language to know that if she hadn’t been a Minister, she would have spewed forth a litany of curses the likes of Linda Blair in the Exorcist. Size mattered in this instance… Two lumpy twin beds and no AC, but we had mosquito nets, a bucket in the bathroom under the cold hand shower, and a family of geckos that blended in perfectly with the horrific wall paper. Perhaps I also forgot to mention that there were, not one, but three different locks on the door and we were instructed to diligently use all of them.

Mom: “I want to go back to the other hotel! How do we upgrade?” (Exactly what I was thinking.)

Tarantula Liquor - would you like a shot?

We had only ten minutes to get to dinner, so we stashed our stuff, locked all of the locks and decided we would figure it out later. Once at dinner, we met a couple from the U.S.  who was living in Canada, but working in Cambodia for the summer and we began chatting it up with them. Dinner, which consisted of vegetables and rice, was served and we kept talking while waiting for our fellow travellers to take a bite. During a lull in the conversation, mom leaned over and whispered in my ear, “I don’t want to eat this if they cooked it with Mekong water.” (Exactly what I was thinking.) Finally someone started eating, they didn't kill over so we all joined in. The other travellers at our table also started ordering copious amounts of alcohol, which I suspected was used like sanitary wipes for their intestines; but the food wasn’t bad at all and we enjoyed our night.

After dinner, we took a walk through the city and decided that we would stick it out in the room we had. It’s only one night, we can do it…

I’m starting to feel like a prima donna while telling you this story and it so does not bode well with the world traveller, She-Ra, I’m every woman, commando persona I’m trying to cultivate and nurture while on the road. This is my mom’s fault! So I’m going to stop right there. I won’t tell you about the rest of the night or how my mom’s pharmaceutical supplies actually came in handy when a Spanish teenager was accidently pushed into the river. I won’t even tell you how a six hour boat trip across the border the next day, turned into eleven hours or how a group of European travellers took out their frustration with the delay on the guide. I’ll will tell you that we made it to Cambodia, none the worse for wear, and when the boat pulled up to the dock at Phnom Penh, there were about 200+ people along the shore doing Zumba!!

I promise you that I cannot make this crap up!

Or maybe you'd enjoy Snake Juice.

Making Rice Paper on the Delta 

Chau Doc Village Mosque