Experiences with Children

Though I had fun, interesting, and sometimes unnerving experiences with children in Vietnam, I’m going to limit this post just to those in Cambodia and, moreover, primarily at Angkor.

Upon first arriving at Angkor Wat, there are an abundance of places to park a bike – all surrounded with children peddling wares.  If you ask them about school, you get a version of ‘I go in the morning’ or ‘I go in the afternoon’ depending on what time of day it is.  I’m not actually sure if any of them go to school, but I’m fairly certain they are used to tourists asking if they do.  I and my fellow companions managed to park our bikes and maneuver through the onslaught of children with minimal purchasing.  Inside Angkor Wat, a young girl kept following me – smiling sheepishly – and motioning for me to take her picture.  Wise to this scam, and not wanting to subsequently have some random picture of a Cambodian girl cutely posing on my camera, I passed.  She repeatedly called, ‘Mister, mister’ and would smile and make the picture hand signal.  Finally, I just took to saying, ‘Misses, misses’ after she called to me, which made her laugh but eventually flutter off after some other tourists.  After our tour of Angkor Wat, we decided it would be best to go ahead and get the bikes again to travel to another section of Angkor. Previously, as I looked down and saw my newly purchased water, I felt as though I had survived the first assault of war and managed to emerge unbullet ridden and trauma free.  Had I but known.

I only thought I knew what assault was.  Cards were thrust into my face, beaded bracelets paraded in front of me, mister mister mister shouted until my ears simply echoed the sound repeatedly.  I bought one set of post cards.   One girl kept accosting me with bracelets, so I considered buying some.  Immediately, as I asked how much my companion immediately said, ‘Bryan, you don’t want those.’  Strengthened by this support, I changed my mind.  This, lit fury within the girl.  Suddenly, tears showed up.  Crying, she said that I had promised to buy something.  My heart strings twinged, but the chill set on as my mind said, ‘They are good at this.’  I said, ‘Look, I’m sorry.’

‘I don’t want your sorry, I want you to buy.’  This shot back with a little anger toward me.  She kept pushing, as my companions managed to secure final purchases and we unhooked our bikes to move on.  Then, she erupted with anger and tears.  ‘I hope you fucking die.’  Now, that I did not expect.  ‘That’s not very nice,’ I said.  ‘It’s not nice not to buy’ she retorted.  A few more ‘fucking dies’ later and with me being nice, I managed to peddle away as she said something about me being hit on my stupid bike.  Ouch.

Now, that one was rough.  But the next day was fun.  Having traveled to another section of Angkor on the opposite side of Angkor Wat, the selling and bustle is much slower paced.  I ran into a girl who was selling shirts.  This, is how this exchange went: G:  ‘Do you want to buy a shirt?  100% cotton made in Cambodia!  It’s good, you buy?’ Me:  Do grow cotton in Cambodia?  G: [smiling] ‘Noooo….’ Me:  ‘Well, I’ll tell you what.  If you can tell me where they grow cotton, I’ll buy a shirt.’  G: [still smiling] ‘mmmhmhmhmm’ Me:  ‘Um..that’s no place I’ve ever heard of..’  G:  ‘AAAaaaa…I don’t know!’ and she laughed and squirmed, ‘Buy the shirt!’  Me:  But you couldn’t tell me where they grow cotton.  That was the deal.’

Later, she came up with a friend who had scarves.  G2:  ‘Buy 3 scarves mister, special deal for 3 scarves buy them for your family. Special price just for you.’ Me: really, just for me?’  She laughed, ‘buy one for your girlfriend, your mom, and your grandma.’ Me: ‘Uh oh…see that’s no good.’  G2:  ‘No, buy one for your girlfriend mister.’ Me:  ‘Oh…see my girlfriend is meeeaan.  She’ll get onto me for spending money and buying her a present.  And my mom, she’s even meaner!  She’ll pinch me and hit me for buying her something.  They are mean mean mean!’  G2:  Uh uh! Me:  ‘And my grandma…well…’ and here I paused and frowned dramatically, ‘well…my grandma is dead.’  G2: [playfully]  ‘Ummmphh! Your family is so difficult! ‘

Dark Tourism…

Something struck me about the oddity of war and death memorials on this trip - in particular with the tourism of them.  Now, I’m all for education, if only to prevent these from ever happening again.  But, something struck me oddly while touring Vietnam and Cambodia’s historical places.  The number of people photographing these horrors and posing in front of them.  I was a little dumbstruck.  I didn’t snap a picture of the girls posing below, but moments before they had been enacting all kinds of faces photographing themselves in front of a gun.

There is something gruesome about posing with elements of war.  Cutesy asian and anglo tourists would strike poses, smile with doubled fingers, in front of these killing machines and horrific displays.  I found myself fascinated by this strange display.   They guy photographing the Killing Fields memorial kept trying for different angles, moving around to capture that perfect shot. Is the guy photographing those skulls going to go home and show them off to friends and family?  What conversation will they have after that?  The girls jumping for a photograph in front of a gun that killed thousands will post it to facebook, a delightful capturing of their excursion to Vietnam.  Just, odd odd odd.

But then, my photographing them is odd too.

The last picture is a sign at most of the sites we visited.  Intially, I thought it strange to need to post a ‘no laughing or smiling’ sign but as I toured I saw a lot of examples of people laughing and playing around on the sites.  Part of me feels it is just a reaction to such a horror to see, not really knowing what to do – you laugh.

I remember reading or hearing about something a while back on the recent rise of  ‘dark tourism,’ where people go to disaster or war torn areas for vacation.  Sometimes they go to help out with a relief effort or offer aid, but sometimes they go just to see it.  I’m not sure how I feel about this.  Many writers, such as Orwell or Hemingway, joined military groups and war efforts to get experience for their writings; yet, something seems odd about purposefully traveling to a location out of simple curiosity with no real humanitarian spirit or conviction of belief in a cause.  Or, perhaps I’m just making too much out of people taking vacation pictures. 

Siem Reap and Angkor

After the excitement of Penom Pehn, we headed to Siem Reap.  Near Siem Reap are the beautiful temple ruins of Angkor, most famously known for Angkor Wat.  They are close enough to bike to by road, which, when you are cycling through mopeds and the insanity of the street, provides the Indiana Jones like adventure atmosphere you need to get yourself in the mood for exploring.  They are pretty impressive, and again descriptions won’t seem to fulfill you desires as much as photographs will.  While Angkor Wat is impressive, I found the face towers of Bayon and the tree conquered Ta Prohm to be much more inspiring and awing.  Enjoy pics:

 

The Longest Day Ever in Phnom Penh

When we arrived in Phnom Penh, we had a nice dinner and returned for an early-ish night.  One of the guys at the place suggested we hire a driver to visit the major sites, which can be done in a single day.  He said, first you’ll visit the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum, go to the Killing Fields, off to the Russian Market, finish with the Royal Palace/Silver Pagoda and a lovely walk down the riverside back to the hostel.  You know – as he then said – , sad, sad, then happy, and then royal.  We figured it was the best way to get everything in on one day.

And it was all of that.  The Genocide museum is sad – a surreal former school converted into a torture and prison center.  The Killing Fields sad and odd – dented earth that formerly housed bodies, signs explaining that the executioners would become too exhausted from killing and were unable to finish executing all the people brought in a day.  The Russian Market blisteringly hot and humorous with its offerings and the Royal Palace awing.  What we didn’t count on was our own exhaustion.  Cambodia is hot, and heat saps the body fast, which meant by 4 pm after being outside touristing all day, I felt like I had trekked a 1000 miles.  The mental toil of all those emotions had added up too.  The scenic walk back to the hostel was more of a silent walk of sleepiness.   After crashing for a few hours, we decided to live it up colonial style and head to a French restaurant in town.  As we sat, one of our friends ordered a water and when the waitress asked, ‘Bottled or tap,’ she said something like,  ’Oh tap is fine.’  Then she realized that we were, indeed, still in Cambodia and we all chuckled a bit.   A little pricey, but fun. Then, excitement really began.

For the last part of the longest day, I need to backtrack a bit.  At breakfast, I learned one of our companions had broken out in fierce hives.  From what we never really found out, as is the case with most allergies.  I went with her to the local pharmacy and bantered around trying to get an antihistamine [my allergies had launched an attack on my in Vietnam, so my efforts weren't entirely altruistic].  But, through the weakness of the drug, the heliostic day of tourism, the hives had simply driven our companion to the brink of madness.  So, we ventured to a hospital in the mid evening.

Now, I don’t know if you’ve been to a hospital outside of the US but  it may be one of the most terrifying experiences I’ve ever had.  Upon arrival, we were greeted by no one.  You can simply just walk anywhere you want.  Pale green walls and dimly lit, this looked like a place things came to be forgotten.  After a few minutes, someone showed up at the front desk and directed our companion to the back room.  I sat outside, due to my dislike of medical facilities and the feeling that a crowd is unwanted in a doctor’s office.  After a few minutes, one of our companions came back with a pale-ish face and said that our hive companion had been rushed upon by doctors and whitecoats, nearly fainted, and now the doctor wanted her to stay overnight.  She was going to pick up a medicine from the pharmacy, and I reluctantly agreed to go sit with our stricken fellow. 

Thankfully, no injections, no overnight.  In truth, one of the nurses or doctors-in-training was quite nice and seemed to understand our desire to want to leave – patiently explaining everything to us in English.    We stepped out of the hospital [all of which, the drugs and visit cost 10 USD], hailed a motor taxi, and returned homeward. At only 11 PM, this day ended with three of us sharing a beer in silence.

Cambodian Traffic…

So, having moved into Cambodian territory – here is a pictures of traffic in Phenom Penh taken from a motor taxi while we were crossing through an intersection. 

Rethinking the mini van…

Before I launch into the touristy fun I had in Vietnam and Cambodia, I thought I’d post two of my favorite photos in the entire trip.  The scooter has a following in Asia unlike anywhere else.  People use it to cart goods, carry furniture, and to mobilize the entire family.  They do all of this with skill that is simply impressive and awing.  That said, sometimes it ends in disaster.  But, here are two pictures that just make my day when I relook at them.  It took me forever to capture some families on scooters – so these two are actually from Cambodia:

This isn’t an unfamiliar sight in Vietnam either.   The most I ever saw was 5 people on one bike in Vietnam.  Dad driving, little kid in front of him, little kid behind, Mom at rear holding a baby.  One of my companions saw one mother breastfeeding on the back of one of these things.  Also, though these pictures show people without helmets – that is the rarity.  It seems that most people rock helmets – even if they don’t have them on the kiddos.