Mud, salt, crab, and yet more mud

So after a few days of city life in phnom penh, I figured that it was time to get out to countryside... So I hoped on a nice bus and rode down to the river town to kampot... After a bit of searching in the dark for a place to lay my head down for the night, with the help of my drug dealing moto driver, I finally came to find a nice little place off the main drag... I spent the night laying in a hammock listening to my books on tape before retiring to my mozy net covered bed.  The next morning I strode down the waterfront to a motorbike shop, hopped on, and started driving to the seaside... Thankfully it had rained the night before, so all my fears of cruzing down a dusty dirt road were for not... Instead I should have prayed for dust as opposed to the alternative, mud.  Lots and lots and lots of mud.  After about twenty miles and managing to get around as many large construction trucks such fling up copious amounts of mud, I pulled out onto a side road and realized that of the 8 choices at the roundabout said twenty miles back in town, I had chosen poorly... So back I went through a fine mud misting.   When got back to my starting location, I was pretty concerned that the heavens were about to open up because it was so damn dark outside.  I took of my sunnys to have a better look at things, and lo, I was blinded by light!... I peered down at my goggles to see that their mirror surface was nearly completely hidden under mud, as was my entire person... I had a good laugh of the sight that I made... Big bearded white man covered in mud!  (you have to realize that I haven't seen another gringo in this town yet)... After another 20 miles or so up the right road, I came upon the sea, and oh how joyous was my heart at this meeting.  I was shocked at how emotional I was at such a sight and can only attribute it to the fact that after living next to it for four years and being gone from home for a great length of time, my heart was overcome by the familiar sights, sounds, and of course smells.  I parked my moto and dove straight into the sea, clothed as I was.  Never have I felt the waters so warm in all my life.  It was like a hot bath which has been allowed to cool for half an hour or so... I scrubbed the mud from my face and clothes noticed that my stomach was rumbling and that I had not eaten a meal in 2 days (it is almost as if I simply forget to eat entirely, or that I mean to but put it off in order to do something else and then forget about it).  So I popped up the beach a ways until I hit the crab market where I sat down and had easily one of the ten best meals of my life... Flavor I cannot begin to described overwhelmed me... Crab fried with vegetables and herbs in a slightly sweet curry that tasted nothing like curry, but rather like a pleasure greater than that of Paris an Hellen their first night in Troy...  I am talking about PASSION in my MOUTH!  An now I sit here, at that restaurant, with the ocean wind in my hair, listening to the sounds of the waves lap up underneath my seat, watching little fishing boats putter up the coast... I realize now that I better not find a Cambodian girlfriend while I am here, because if I do, I might not be leaving any time soon.

The next day I woke up early before dawn to the sound of creation, or rather what I imagine it sounded like 5,000 years ago when god made everything... I say, the heavens were dropping a remarkable amount of water on my tin roof and oh how the win howled from the south and east... A tarried there in an uneasy sleep for some time until mid morning when the Storm broke rain curtain pealed away like silver glass to reveal a far green country... It was then that I decided to head up the mountainside... After a three dollar "road fee" to the nice police men, I was off up the hill into Bokor National Park.  I got about ten km before I hit "road closed for construction sign" and there was a string across the road, lowered for all save me... I blatantly tried to bribe the guys but u think their lack of English made it particularly hard... I went so far as to plop down a ten spot and push it toward the string operator and point to me going through (thats serious bribe money here, for perspective it only costs about five bucks for a hit here, and I am talking about killing a person, drug are way cheaper according to the nice drug dealer who tries to sell me stuff every time I step out my guesthouse door)... But alas I was to no avail, i found out later that since the road is being worked on by some big company, apparently if and westerner gets hurt the guys who saw him that day never see another day, that way any bad press about the accident never happens because no one is around to sing the tale... I ruv this county!... So, with the day still ahead of me and a full tank of gas in my moto, I went cruzing down to the seaside again to see about some new cruzing roads and maybe a fried crab or two... In Kep, I found a trail onto Kep National Forest... And I cruzed through through the jungle mountainside on little more than a dear trail... Needless to say it was pretty bitchin... Think of the Napali Coast Trail, add in about an extra foot or so of clearance, and you'll have a good idea... I am once again sitting at my little shack restaurant, having polished off a few more crustacean, drinking my tea, and looking forward to my ride back to my hammock and maybe a 4 dollar massage if I get to feeling really loose with my pocket book... A very great "unsuccessful" day indeed!

Purely Bitchin

Regardless of whether or not who we are is determined by factors other than our experiences (the current hold up on my philosophical quest to find reasons for a subsequently prior moral power in addition to the two identified by Rawls, which I have given a great deal of thought to in my time abroad)... I say, regardless of this question, it seems to me that we still might have defining moments which might act as a signpost along our development as individuals, moments which we might point to down the road of life as times when clarity came into our hearts as to who and what we are. For example, Writing this on the back of a speeding moto with air wiping by, Cruzing through the numerous temples which make up the Angkor Wat complex, bathed in the warm red glow of sunset, Blasting some bitchin tunes in my ears which both reminds me of my past and hints at my potential future all the while supplementing the beauty of the moment... I know for sure that despite the knowledge of suffering in the world, I am reminded of our inherent ability to experience pure, unadulterated joy... Hell yes this is a life moment.

Notes from a tiny village...and a big city

So I went to Dom Dek... Yah it's small, yah it is oh so rugged, yah it is where my beloved friend Meg lives and will continue to live for the next year an a half.  I was lucky enough to get to attend the school where meg teaches English, to experience just the slightest beginnings of the life of a peace core member, I hung out with her host family and ate some delicious food (although there was one hairy moment where, with cook looking on, I came across a mystery bit which looked like a chicken bladder, popped it in my mouth, and with one chew swallowed... Turns out it was a mushroom!) and I got my fill of being ooggling over as the big white man with a beard... All that i will say about the experience is that life there is hard, whether you are born there or just move there to try and make a difference... Now I am not one to make silly claims about the lives others lightly, material wealth does not predict happiness, indeed the people I met were quite the lively upbeat bunch, ever quick to laugh and even faster to smile.  That being said, I repeat, life is hard for reasons other than a lack of creature comforts, or rather in addition to said lacking.  Life is so very hard because in it's simplest form, you are what you are born...
Born poor, stay poor, die poor... Born the son of a noodle vendor, guess what, I see noodle vending in your near future... If education is your dream, better dream up some extra cash to pay for all those private classes to supplement your 3 or 4 hours a day of education the government will pay for... and find yourself a magic lamps cuz u need a genie to grant the  even more cash you are going to need for university because no bank is going to give a loan to the son of a fisherman here... It is that harsh reality which beats down the people of Cambodia, new and old, by birth and by desire... They call it the third world not because it was the last to be "discovered," but because it is in places like this that dreams are the least likely to come true... Yet the people here remain bright and cheery, hopeful of a better world and a better future, despite a lack of  iproximity to their own likely future..
Yah, the whole Angkor Wat temple complexes where amazing, but I am in no mood to write of them... There beauty and magisty only serve to remind me of the theme of my journey: "juxtapositions." Perhaps I should be pleased that such a place only makes me think of the contrast between the wealthy tourists and the people whose monuments of lost glories these are, perhaps I should be pleased in my notions of humanity... Never has so good a thing felt so retched.  Ignorance is bliss, perspective may make things more precious to us, yet right now, no matter how grateful I am for my wealthy and liberal upbringing, I cannot get the bitter taste of guilt out of my mouth for winning the lottery of a privileged birth.

And god gave us ears to hear, eyes to see, hearts to feel, and death to end the suffering they would bring.

Cambodia...There and hopefully back again

Well let's just say getting here was a bitch...  The overnight train was an experience to be sure, hotter than holy hell and cramped up in a ball the entire night... Yuk, then it was a treck to the boarder complete with police raid of ilegals off the bus... But not to worry the boarder itself was a breeze... Go talk to this scammer and that scammer, yell at the tuktuk driver to get to the boarder, bribe the actual immigration police, and get a body scan... Then hop into a taxi... Which means an unmarked camrey filled with 9 of your closest khimer friends... And bounce along listening to the latest in khimer discotech until u reachthe city... Not there yet, migrate from one end of the city to the other where you get the chance to hop into the back of a pickup with 28 new palls, yes I counted three times, this 28 of course on top o the 12 in the cab... When you reach that remote village, slap on the roof and hop out, make your way to the guesthouse to wash the baby crap and toddler puke of your legs and face, oh yah, and the adult spittle that didn't quite make it past your face at the 35mph... Woot you did it, now sit back, relax, and enjoy a nice nights sleep filled with wedding music, bugs, and copious amounts of sweat... I ruv this country! 

Laos Roundup

Ok, so here is the deal with Laos, 10 days was plenty, at least for me... Don't get me wrong, cruzing down the Mighty Mekong River was pretty cool, and the landscape was beautiful, it's just that who really wants to spend to full days crammed insides of a boat like cattle going to slaughter??? If I hadn't ventured up onto the roof of the boat with a few other pirates on the second day think that I might have lost my mind... And if you are thinking to yourself, come on Ryan it's not that bad, I say yes, yes it is... Mind you u don't have a seat, so u just sit on the hard wood floor all day crammed in between a drunken British girl that won't shut the hell up and a Laotian that can't afford soap let alone deoderant... Yah, I'm glad I did it, yes it was cool, but it was plenty long enough... Next came Luang Probang.  Again very amazing French colonial town full of cool things, yet the tourists and elivated prices (dirt cheap by American standards but expensive  when it comes to SEA).  Then you drve on down to Vang Vieng.   To be fair there are a bunch of really cool caves you can check out and the abundance of westerners to talk to and watch the super bowl with was cool...But i don't really feel the need to experience perpetual spring break parties... That right, the activity of choice their is to float down the river drunk off your keaster, come back to town an drink some more... That or watch endless episodes of Freinds, Family Guy, or the Simpsons while enjoying delicious shakes laced with your drug of choice... I went to Berkeley, i don't really need to hang out with wanabe CoOpers stretched out on pillows while they trip through their time here in SEA... Finally take yet anther junker minivan ride for 6 hours or so with 14 of your fellow travelers while you cruz down Laos' best road... Ane and a half lane of oil and chip network of patches as you try not to look as you take ever corner at terminal velocity... In fact I think that it might be a government conspiracy to create their very on CERN, with the minivans that smash into each other being the poor man's hydron collider, infact I feel like I could make a pretty baht selling t-shirts with slogans like "I survive the ride on the Loation Atom Smasher"... But I digress... Vientiene, U have a long ways to go my friend... You have no heart, no class, and certainly no tourist appeal... And yah, I got way the hell out of that hammer and sicle banner flying country.... where everyone seems corrupt, cheating people out of their hard earned Kipp is a national past time, a place the US should have  boldly stayed  the hell away from where everyone had gone a failed before, and the food makes you sick... before I wrote any such things... Consequentially I'm glad to be back in Thialand by Jove, in a land who has no peer in beauty, where the people are always wonderful, and the government has done a standup job in every aspect, where great leadership shines through his royal magesty the King, peace and blessings be upon his name.  

And I hate tourists, yuk!

Yah, I have decided that I hate tourists with a passion... So yah, I got roped into giving alms and all, but it could have been a lot worse.... So the morning after my little scam, I went up the street wanting to get a picture or two of the monks as they came out of the monastery, when I was hit with a big wall of tourists, lining the street... I mean really like 200 people up at 6am to take pictures of the event... Well, I thought to myself, they are no different than me right? For the most part they were ok, until the procession of monks came, which turned even the nicest little old granny into a bloodthirsty photographers... I mean it was terrible, people got within inches, literally inches, of the monks snapping cameras off in their faces, at times even
Blocking their way.... It was pretty gross, and I felt bad to part of a tourist industry which allows for this type of destruction of culture to occur...  Then I got a nice little case of food poisoning, I guess my bragging about being immune to such things caught up with me, so yah, I got a bit of a fever and laid in bed until I felt better around 3, when I was brought out of my stopper by the sound of thunder, or what I thought was thunder... I went outside and realized that it was actually drums... I followed the sounds until I arrived a one of the monasteries in the city, where I sat listening to the drums for about half an hour. When it was over, I stayed sitting down just kinda drinking it all in, when a monk came up to me and asked me where I was from... I ended up talking to him for like 2 hours at which point he invited me to come and listen to him and the other monks chant and meditate with them, so I went and listened to them chant for an hour (absolutely amazing by the way) and them meditated with them for another hour... After that I hung out with some of the monks friends in the monistary and another guy who had just left... We talked well I to the night until I finally said good night in search of 7up and OJ... Needless to say it was one of the highlights of my trip thus far... And the picture we took of us all sitting on the steps of the Temple is far better than any shot I could have gotten if I had participated in the mass hysteria which had taken place earlier in the morning.  

My first scam

My first scam....

I got up bright and early one morning, much as I do most mornings on my adventure, to capture the early morning light of the sun within my lens... I walked out the door and began my way down the street past the early morning worshipers preparing to give alms of rice and other treats to the monks, alms which amount to the only meal of the day for them.  Yet this morning unlike any other morning a very pleasant woman invited me to sit down with her as she handed out alms.  I, wanting to be free to capture the moments on film, resisted at first bit then aquiest her requests not wanting to be just another falang Intruding on their culture... I sat and asked questions as best as I could but did not get very far with answers given a massive language difficulty... The monks walked buy in single file ad I handed out loads of sticky rice and little balls of coconut, and whenever my supply got low, it was quickly replenished by the smiling woman... I indicated to the woman that she should help me pass it out but she seemed not to understand what it was I was saying... And all the while I was enamored with the beauty of the process of giving as well as the goodwill of this woman to share jet beloved culture with me... When the procession was over the woman and the two other women that had joined her skilled at me and the said something about paying.  I like a blind fool thought of course I would help to pay for the food we had given out, reached into my wallet to give the main woman two dollars and the other two each one, and why this may not seem like very much at all to the outside reader, I can assure you that it was more than enough to cover the cost of the food... Then the women began to hassle me saying that it wasn't enough, beginning to count up the trays, with the first woman saying that it was five dollars... I began to think to myself " well so much for the beautiful moment, but what is a mother dollar to me?" I gave her one more dollar, and the they as a group began to point to other trays demanding more money... Then it hit me... This was not a beautiful moment of cultural sharing and love, this was straight up tourist extortion... That is when the indignant argumentative self quick to wrath and ruin bet the idealistic philosopher within... My tone went from soft and loving to quick an harsh... Mai Mai (no  no ) I said inky meanest Thai... You sad nothing of paying you neorealism hand, nothing... I pointed to the little old lady next to me and to her food basket and said that she gave from the heart, that karma was the purpose, not money... They got a little nasty then too, speaking mostly Thai bit hey new how to say how much money they wanted in the queen's perfect English at that... Then, all the guilt that I have felt as a tourist for supporting an industry which seems to degrade the culture and way of life o thes people began to boil to the surface.  Bit lo, it was they who shared with me rue reasonability for their destruction.  I would no have called these women vile until, wheni indicated that the money that I had put out was to be share and that I would my be giving out any more, thefitst woman scooped it all up and packed away her things, without any intention of sharing the money... Vile now I name her, for crrupti g her own culture far more than any other... I understand that poverty drives people to do certain things which they would not otherwise do, yet this was not poverty, this was greed... A woman who would ruin her own faith and culture if it meant an extra buck, because that is what she was doing... Her transgression being far worse than the woman who sell their bodies at bars late at night, the monitization of sex being nothing compared to the capitalism of religion, culture, and dignity... My anger and repulsion is fueled not only at these women for destroying their own people and making me an unwitting participant in said breaking, it festers deeper into the matter of my belief that their remained beauty ad decency in this world within each and every person.... A hope and a dream speaking to my youth, ever further dismantled be people such ad these....  I think I better go visit a temple and see real worshipers again at their prayers, do a little meditation on top of yet another mountain, and find a little decency to at least bring my mood back to equilibrium.