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

Things We Lost In The War: Vietnam

Every major city has its “thing”- the attraction, the event, or the entertainment that pulls in tourists; Orlando has Disney World, Cairo has the Pyramids, Gary, Indiana has Michael Jackson and the list goes on. Ho Chi Minh City (HCMC) is no different than any other city except that its “thing” is war, specifically, the Vietnam War or the “Vietnam Conflict” as we learned to call it in school or the “American War” as the Vietnamese call it. For a place whose tourist industry is focused on such a brutal time in our history, it amazes me that HCMC is one of the happiest places I’ve travelled thus far and I could actually see myself living here.  Let me rephrase this: I actually could have seen myself living there; until we went to the War Remnants Museum.

OMG…

Initially our plan was to spend just 2 days in HCMC and then move on to Cambodia. However, once we (mom and I) got there and I learned that I could shoot an AK-47 and an M-16 at the gun range on the Cu Chi Tunnels tour… Well, as you can imagine, that whole plan went to the crapper. Where else am I going to get the opportunity to shoot guns like that?! Side story:  I actually said this to an Australian traveller I met in HCMC and with genuine incredulity he said, “You’re American! Don’t you have access to guns like that all the time?!”

Notre Dame

Crickets…. How do you respond to that?

It occurred to me in the moment, that some people really see Americans as gun toting, war mongers from the Wild, Wild, West! Not one to disappoint, mom and I booked another day at the hotel because although I’m not a “gun person” (I’ve actually NEVER fired a gun in my life), I’ve seen enough gun toting, war monger, and Wild, Wild, West movies starring Steven Segal to know that this might be a ridiculously cool experience.

So, we laid out our plan of attack.

Day 1: Delta team will get some much needed R&R and wake up at oh-eight-hundred hours on Day 2 to go on a self-guided expedition of the Notre Dame cathedral, the Post Office, Reunification Palace (Hoi Truong Thong Nhat), Ben Thanh Market, and the War Remnants Museum. Day 3 will commence with a half day tour of the Cu Chi Tunnels and will terminate with dinner. We will evacuate the premises by boat along the Mekong Delta, destination Cambodia, on Day 4.

Street vendors sell EVERYTHING!

Day two began and off we went. HCMC is awesome! The downtown area is amazingly easy to navigate and most of the “attractions” are in one area. Further, there are quite a few parks to sit and people watch and even more street vendors selling food and other goodies, so spending time outdoors without a guide is stress free and very pleasant. Crossing the streets can be a bit challenging though, but locals are always willing to help even with that!  Did I mention that it’s really cheap too! After lunch at this cool jazz restaurant where my paella dish and mom’s fried shrimp plate cost us an equivalent of $7 USD, we headed to the War Remnants Museum.

Napoleon is quoted as having said that, “History is the version of past events that people have decided to agree upon." For me, this explains why the Vietnamese perspective of the war looks nothing like what was taught in school.

Let me preface the rest of this post by saying, “THIS IS WHY I TRAVEL!!”

The War Remnants Museum is littered with things we lost in the war: tanks, planes, shells, guns, our minds etc. The first floor is filled with news clippings from around the world explaining and condemning the events occurring during the war. As the floors increase, the gravity and sadness of the past intensifies with names, ages, and pictures of villagers killed, photos of American soldiers carrying disemboweled corpses, and journalist’s recollection of horrific tales of torture and abuse. Further, with statistics and pictures of disfigured people and children born as recent as six years ago, the museum catalogs the lingering after effects of Agent Orange on the soil and the population. They also show how a plethora of unexploded mines in the country side have affected people even today.

OMG…

The Tunnels! Wayyyy tooo small!

Within ten minutes of entering the museum I had stopped taking photos. Thirty minutes later, my stomach was turning and I was sweating something fierce. One hour later, I leaned over and told me mother that there was no way in hell she was wearing that American Flag t-shirt she packed, while walking with me in Vietnam. “You can be proud without making us a walking target!”

Although I understand that there are always three sides to every story and I was appreciative of having gained another viewpoint, I couldn’t shake the melancholy that came over me. Do I really want to shoot guns tomorrow?

Answer: Um… YES!!

What' s my name?!

In my head he has Rick James' voice...

Drive thru fast food window - Vietnamese Style!

Fresh fruit at the market.

The Post Office is GORGEOUS!

Upgrade Ya: Vietnam

So far I've been doing the backpacker thing (e.g. hostels, trains, walking, hanging laundry on the line, etc.) and I'm surviving; as a matter of fact, I'm thriving. I never imagined living with so few resources or access to "everyday luxuries" and loving it. Now, my mother took a vacation from her job ("like regular people do") and decided to join me as I travel through Vietnam, Laos, and Thailand and I wasn't sure that the "backpacker lifestyle" would suit her, so I warned her beforehand.

Her Response: "I'm cool. I'm down. I can do it."

I responded, "Okay," while I simultaneously booked a hotel instead of hostel for our first stop in Hanoi. (Upgrade!)

Ho Chi Minh's Memorial

I know my mother...

The hotel picked her up at the airport and she bounded in wearing Fila Skeletoes and carrying her reinforced backpack with its anti-theft straps that she ordered online at some specialty travel store. "Where did you find this place? It looks crazy outside! I hope you registered this address with the US Consulate," she said as she unpacked her backpack chocked full of pharmaceuticals and immediately began cleaning up our hotel room. After she demanded that I have the hotel launder my clothing instead of doing it myself (Upgrade!), I began side stepping her questions by telling her our plans for the next few days.

Me: "We are going to go to Ho Chi Minh's Memorial, the night market, Halong Bay and a few temples and pagodas."

Arms must be covered to enter?! Does this work?

Mom: "How are we going to get there? I know you've been avoiding tours, but it's not safe to go without someone."

I know my mother...

I had already booked our tours for the following days (Upgrade!) and along we went. We enjoyed our day at Halong Bay and met a great family from Australia. We even had fun on our tour of the city and decided to spend our last full day in Hanoi just shopping.

Out of all the things that could have happened in Hanoi, the one thing that I didn't want to happen, happened!


WAIT FOR IT....

My mother was pick pocketed while we were shopping. Lovely (insert heavy sarcasm here)...

A crippled, older, man saw her put her money in her back pocket and immediately started hopping around us while someone else was offering to polish my mom's shoe. The man brushed up against my mom and she instantly checked her pockets. Before I could coherently hear her say, "He took my money," she was already chasing him down! I turned around just as she grabbed him and spun his crippled tail around so fast that he did a pirouette on his good leg. "Give me back my money," she screamed as she ripped the money back out of this man's hand. I don't know who was more stunned, me or the man who stole her money!

Whoa... Mom's a gangsta! I don't know crap about my mother...

Halong Bay!

Adrenaline kicked in and my mom started walking fast and back towards the hotel. "I don't like this! I want to go to the hotel now! This isn't safe! I can't believe you are traveling like this!" After getting her to calm down, I convinced her that we should continue our day. "Why stop now? You just kicked an old man's ass and it's only 11 am!" We ended up laughing about the entire situation and she agreed to stay, but going to the night market was out of the question. The following day, we packed up our stuff and made it out to the train station.

Since the bus ride from Hanoi, Vietnam to Luang Prabang, Laos has been described as "the bus ride from hell" by many travellers on Lonely Planet, I also changed our travel plans for the remainder of the trip and booked train tickets down the Reunification Express from Hanoi to Hue and then Hue to Ho Chi Minh City (Upgrade!). I figured we could travel up through Cambodia to Thailand, instead of  across Laos. I'm happy I did this, because after the first train ride my mother was DONE!

"This train is nasty! I'm sleeping on my bags!"

Mom: "The next leg is 19 hours! I don't think so."

As soon as we got to the hotel in Hue, she cancelled the remainder of our train tickets and booked airline tickets (Upgrade!).

While in Hue, mom decided to try it my way and ditch the tours, so we compromised. She booked a private car and a driver to drive us to Hoi An.(Upgrade! Serious Upgrade!) Unfortunately, the driver was pulled over by the police for speeding and we ended up being held for well over an hour waiting for a replacement driver. Lovely (enter heavy sarcasm here) ... We still don't know what the hang up was, but being held on the side of the road by the Vietnam Police can throw a wrench into any day trip, so we ended up back at the hotel.

The following day we tried to recapture our site seeing day by renting a pair of bicycles for two hours and touring Hue on our own. When travelling I like explore by literally getting lost in neighborhoods and eating and shopping at random places. Unfortunately, my mother was still suffering from PTSD from her Hanoi experience and after realizing what I was trying to do, she cancelled that bike trip. Our two hour trip was cut down to thirty minutes and she hired two cyclo drivers to bike us around the city. (upgrade!)

I know that mothers are supposed to teach their daughters what to expect in life in terms of standards, but I think my mother just screwed me. As we head to Ho Chi Minh, I'm wondering if I'm going to be able to get back to my backpacker lifestyle once she leaves or if I've been spoiled beyond repair. Whatever the case, I now know two things: 1) I won't be doing my own laundry for awhile and 2) I definitely can't wait until the next family member or friend decides to join me; this is a nice reprieve from my new normal.

Thanks Mom!

The caves at Halong Bay!

Yes, that's a baby on the front!

Purple Palace

Our Australian Friends!

Ho Chi Minh's private quarters

Nine West in Hanoi!

Got It Honest: Mount Rushmore, SD

George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Theodore Roosevelt and Abraham Lincoln

Mount Rushmore is only a 6-hour drive from Denver, so being the gypsy that I am, I thought "let's do it!" It was a last minute addition to my Denver trip, so I figured that I would probably end up doing the drive myself; but then remembered... If anyone is up for a last minute adventure, then it's my mother!

My mother and the sculptor Gutzon Borglum

Davita: "Mom, let's drive up to Mount Rushmore on Wednesday."
Mom: "Really? OK, let's go! I'll drive the first half!"
 
Forget Papa; Mama is a rolling stone and I got it honest! We packed up the car, picked up a family friend, and headed to South Dakota. I won't mention the fact that she got sleepy and needed to switch drivers after the first 1-1/2 hours; I'll just stick to the positive.

I can't remember the last time I had so much fun with my mother. We sang, cracked jokes, and talked for hours. Of course my mother had my undivided attention for a total of 12-hours. So being the minister that she is, she felt it was a good time to hit me up with a sermon or four; but I digress... We enjoyed each other's company and I had a fantastic time.

The museum at Mt. Rushmore offers great movies and exhibits.

Keeping it real: I'm not sure I'd hop on a plane JUST to come to South Dakota to see Mount Rushmore, but it's definitely worth a 6-hour drive. To me, the science and math involved in going from the scale model to the mountain size sculpture and in determining how much dynamite to use to shape the noses, mouths, etc. was intriguing. I'm sure for others, the historical relevance or artistic significance are also important. BUT...The truth is that there are four big ass faces carved into a granite mountain and that's just something cool you'd want to see.

Scale Models shown in the museum

Of course Mt. Rushmore is a tourist trap, so there are plenty of other things to do and ways to spend your money in the Black Hills/ Rapid City Area. I couldn't talk my mother into zip lining across the woods or going to the Mount Rushmore Reptile Garden, but there are a plethora of little shops, antique stores, and restaurants throughout the area. There's also the Crazy Horse Memorial, which we heard was a must see; but mom was not feeling the cold and rain, so we skipped this one.

Overall, just being there with my mom and marvelling at the ingenuity and innovation of it all was enough for me. I could definitely see myself coming back here some day with my own children.