Day 243 - 2/12/08 Last Day Abroad

PS from yesterday. Namdaemun Gate (the one that burned down) was inscribed with fire symbols to protect Seoul and Gyeonbukung Palace from fire. I guess it worked. The city is still standing...

Today we visited Changdeokung Palace where the unfortunate Prince Seja on whose life Intimacy Between Father and Son is based on met his demise. In both history and the play, Seja goes insane with murder and debauchery. His father, to save the dynasty, kills Seja, and names his son (the king's grandson) the new Crown Prince. That boy grows up to become one of the best loved rulers in Korean history, and the dynasty continues until the Japanese occupation in 1910.

The palace is an interesting blend of East and West. From the outside, the structures are pure traditional Korean. Inside, however, because it was used by the royal family until 1910, the furnishings and light fixtures are very European.

The palace is perhaps best known for its gardens, and for the way the buildings blend in with the surounding nature. Other palaces in Seoul are built symmetrically. Changdeokung is asymetrical, following instead the natural lay of the land. The result is a feeling of harmony throughout.

After the tour, we were too cold to find a new restaurant, so we instead visited one near the palace where had eaten before. Korean meals are as much about the condiments as they are the main dishes. However, the condiments are never listed on the menu, so even if you know what your main dish is going to be, the sides are always a surprise. The little dishes that arrived with my meal this time included pickled sweet potato vine (one of my favourites), bok choy kimchee, and candied dried squid (at least that's what I think it was) - strange, but very tasty.

After lunch, we braved the cold to make a quick dash downtown to see the Hammering Man sculpture. The sculptors' names sounded familiar, and we were both well aquainted with Seattle's Hammering Man, so we were curious to see if it was the same one. Sure enough, it was as if a little piece of the Pacific Northwest had found its way to a street corner in Seoul.

By the time we found Hammering Man - he's in the guidebook, but not on the map - we barely had time to dash back to the hostel and grab our packs before hopping on the bus to the airport.

This time tomorrow/today, courtesy of the international date line, we will be back in Seattle having lunch with a friend of the family.

Leave it to world travel to make tomorrow happen today.

Day 242 - Never Put off 'til Tomorrow...

What you can do today. Because the 14th century monument you were planning to photograph might burn down in the night. Really. We had planned to take pictures of the Namdaemun Gate last night, but decided to wait until today to get both a day and a night shot. When we arrived at the hostel last night however, the entire staff was gathered around the TV watching in shock as Seoul's national treasure #1, the oldest wooden structure in the city, went up in flames. Arson is suspected. Our photo opportunity turned to ashes. Literally.

The gate stood in the heart of the business district, which could easily be mistaken for Manhattan with soaring skyscrapers standing sentry over hoardes of people all carfully choreographed by the traffic lights. We arrived right before lunchtime, and floatillas of businessmen in nearly identical suits flocked to and from the ruins on their way to lunch. It was sort of surreal.

From there, it was a little walk to the Seoul Museum of Art, which according to my guidebook, was the only museum open on Mondays. My guidebook was wrong. It was deciededly closed.

So we walked back to Namdaemun, whose market supposedly boasted a store with 2 floors of toys. Head filled with visions of Gundam, PSP's, and Transformer's, Cz really wanted to pay a visit. It too proved dissapointing, occupying only 1 floor, and containing only a few shelves of Gundam, though the market itself was pretty impressive.

Undaunted, we headed out to the (hard to find) Myong Dong Cathedral, oldest Catholic church in Korea, and known for its neogothic architecture. It was under renovation. Behind screens. At least the inside was open.

Seoul has a kimchi museum in the Coex Mall (where we spent day 1). It was closed then for the Lunar New Year. Turns out it's closed Mondays too.

By now I was so frustrated with spending my last full day in Korea travelling from burned, closed, and under renovation attractions that I was ready to hit someone. So we went to the Coex arcade and blew up a legion of zombies. That made me feel better.

Then we went to 63 Tower, Seoul's tallest building. The Imax was already closed, but the aquarium and skydeck, with views of the city were both open. In addition to the fishes, the aquarium was also home to a flock of penguins (who did not tapdance), seals, sea lions, and a friendly sea turtle.

One touch tank consisted of the standard starfish and hermit crabs, but another was populated by 'Dr fish', small fishes that feed on dead skin. Plexi boxes with finger holes invited a feeding frenzy on anyone who dunked winter-chapped fingertips. The little fish mouths tickled fiercely, and kind of gave Cz the heeby-jeebies, but he held out long enough for a picture.

A feature of every Asian aquarium seems to be the beautifully lit jellyfish display. This one was no exception with luminious jellies of every colour floating in their individual tanks.

After the aquarium, we rode the glass elevator up to the 62nd floor observation deck. Elevators make me nervous to begin with. This one had the added fear factor of being able to see all. the. way. down. All 600+ feet of it. Once on the skydeck, the walls of windows provided 360 degree views over the city of Seoul and the Han river, lit up like a Christmas Tree. There was also a section with a glass floor so one could look past one's feet all the way to the ground, some 62 stories below. It was terrifying. I did it twice. We finished out the trip with nachos overlooking the lights of the city.

It almost redeemed the rest of the day.

Day 241 - War Tourism

According to US History books, the Korean War was finished 50 years ago. In Korea, however, it is not over, but rather in a state of suspended animation. The 2Km swath of the demilitarized zone (DMZ) stands as a constant reminder that North and South have not reached an agreement, merely the world's longest running cease-fire. On each side, soldiers stand ready to spring into action should either show even the slightest provocation.

The result is one of the only divided countries in the world. And one of the world's strangest tourist attractions. Who would have thought that the symbol of war and division would be the top tourist attraction for both North and South. Yet visitors flock to see the Freedom Bridge, the 3rd Tunnel of Northern Agression, and to get a chance to peer into North Korea through telescopes. Those who are lucky enough to land a Panmunjeom tour actually may walk through the UN buildings and set foot in North Korea (unfortunately they were booked solid for the duration of our visit to Korea). Similar tours with similar itineraries run from the northern side.

Both sides use these tours as a chance to play propaganda games. The South proclaims its peace and prosperity, reviling the North as barbaric agressors who starve their people and constantly threaten the South's peaceful way of life. The North on the other hand reviles the South as having loose morals, and of losing its Korean traditions as a slave to the capitalist West. Visitors to the DMZ must follow a strict dress code - no jeans, no t-shirts, no flip-flops, no shorts or miniskirts, etc. It's all a part of both sides' propaganda war. The North watches and photographs the tours coming through Panmunjeom, so the South wants, on one hand, the groups to project and air of prosperity, and on the other to prevent a scruffy Westerner from appearing on northern propaganda posters as symbol of South Korea's 'corruption by the West'.

The dress code also has a more sinister purpose. Remember, this is a cease-fire, not a signed peace treaty, and both sides still have itchy trigger fingers. At any moment either side could turn the DMZ into a RE-MZ. Visitors are not alowed to gesture, wave, talk loudly, or in any way act in any manner that could be construed as provocative. Clothes and shoes worn to the DMZ should not hinder running away.

Though we did not get to enter the DMZ we did see most of the major tourist attractions of the southern border. One of the most important duites of the oldest child is to care for thier aged parents, and when the parents die, to honour their sprits with 3 years of bi-monthly rituals. Furthermore, Lunar New Year, and Korean Thanksgiving are celebrated primarily by re-unification of families. Our first stop, Inminjeom Park, opened as a place where families divided by the war can come to honour their ancestors and relatives in the North. A stone monument faces the North, and families who cannot actually visit the homes and graves of their loved ones come here to lay flowers and make offerings of food and incense.

The park is also home to the Freedom Bridge, which was used to repatriate POW's from both sides of the Korean War. The South gave the POW's from the North the option to remain in South Korea, and many of them opted not to return. On the flip side, the North may not have released all of its POW's to the South. Some men are still missing, leaving families to wonder what happened to their loved ones. As of today the bridge terminates in a high fence topped in razor wire and festooned with prayer flags, mementoes, and wishes for the families on the other side.

Our next stop was the Third Tunnel of Northern Agression (or Infiltration - depending on your level of propaganda). Since the ceasefire was declared the North has made many atempts to infiltrate the South, both by submarine, and by tunnels under the rock. The discovery of four such tunnels have been made public knowlege, and the existence of dozens more is hinted at. When the third tunnel was discovered, the North smeared it with coal and claimed it was an abandoned coal mine. They also claimed that it had been dug by the South - a strange claim considering that its opening was on the northern side, and all the dynamite bores faced south. We apologize for the blurry picture, this taken at the termination point of the tunnel where the DMZ begins, but photography was strictly forbidden so Cz had to take this on the sly.

This third tunnel has been made open to the public as a tourist venue, and also as a reminder to the South that the North is still dangerous and agressive. According to the South's line, the cease-fire has gone on so long that the South is getting soft, and needs to be reminded of the 'perfideousness' of the North. I suspect that there is also an element of covering from old embarassment. When North Korea invaded South Korea in 1950, its army did have superior numbers and equipment. However, the initial siege was aided in no small part because many of the South's border patrols and front lines had recently been granted short and long-term vacations, leaving the border practically unguarded.

Next came the Dora Observatory where one can (heavily supervised by Royal Korean Army guards) look through telescopes across the 2km DMZ into North Korea. Through the scopes, one can watch a North Korean guard standing at his post on his respective tower, see the UN buildings at Panmunjeom, and the propaganda villages of both North and South. The propaganda villages came into being when the country was divided, it split an existing village in two. Each side built up their respective village as model for its country's prosperity. The South's half consists of a highly subsidised farming community growing rice and ginseng. The North's side is built up to look like a booming industrial town. A booming industrial town which has never been occupied, and whose factories have not turned out a single product. It does, however boast the world's tallest flagpole and the heaviest flag.

Also visible form the Dora observatory is the Reunification bridge. Opened in approx 2000, the main bridge re-connects the highway of the South to the Highway of the North. Currently, it is only open to vehicles serving the reuinifaction industrial park, located in the North, and heavily subsidized by the South, but there is hope that it is a first step towards a re-unified Korea. As of today however, the pedestrian bridge joining it to the park, and either end of the highway bridge, terminate in high fences topped in razor wire and festooned with prayer flags, mementoes, and wishes for the families on the other side.

Finally, we stopped at Dorasan Station. Until 2002, this was the last station in South Korea. In 2002, the track was re-connected with North Korea, though, like the highway, it is curently only open to cargo trains serving the reunification industrial park. Supposedly plans are underway to open the line to passenger traffic as a gesture of unification for the Bejjing Olympics. Once the full length of the track is open, it will connect Korea with both the TransChina and TranSiberia rail lines, making it possible to ride from Western Europe, through Korea, and into Eastern China entirely by rail. It's a nice thought, though I have my doubts if it will be accomplished.

Both sides play lip service to wanting re-unification, and I believe that many genuinely do want a re-unified country, and I beleive that reunification, or at least an open border, would be a good thing. Should there be re-unification, howwever, it will not be all sunshine and roses as the the South promises. Among other things, the North is devastated economically. Should re-unification happen, much of the burden of rebuilding would fall to the South, likely causing an economic crisis. And it is likely that the North would be unhappy about receiving the help. The countries have been divided long enough that there is a generation and a half of North Koreans who have been taught since infancy that capitalism is evil and that economic growth fueled by the South will take away their identity. Similarly the South has had its own fifity year propaganda campaign declaring North Koreans 'backward' and violent. I can't imagine that much prejudice can be erased easily with a simple tearing down of the fences.

All along the highway to and from the DMZ sights, the dividing fence bordered the highway. Just on the other side lay the DMZ and border. It was a 50km reminder of the country's division. The fences runs the entire breadth of Korea, maintaining a minimum 4km distance between them. This 2km-wide no man's land has remained untouched for over 50 years and covers seacoast, wetland, and mountains, making it, in essence, the most heavily fortified nature preserve in the world. Species long driven extinct in other regions maintain populations within the DMZ. On the one hand, the trees, birds, and butterflies living there can be construed a symbol of hope and of peace. Should reunification happen, both sides agree that the former DMZ should be maintained as a nature preserve. On the other hand, it is a reminder of the brutality of both sides of the conflict. It is a refuge only for only animals under a certain weight. Any species larger than a fox has long since been driven out or killed by the blanket of landmines that still pock the area.

On returning to Seoul, the bus passed the War Memorial Museum. In keeping with the day (and having heard it was one of the not-to-be-missed museums of Seoul, we decided to pay a visit. Inside, comprehensive exhibits chronicle the history of Korean involvement in warfare around the world, with focus on early warfare, the UN, and the Korean and Vietnam Wars. What struck me most was that ever since people invented national or territory boundries, there has never been world peace. Ever. Every year, without exception, there has been some conflict, somewhere, in the world. Sometimes the war is civil, sometimes international, sometimes it is listed simply as a 'skirmish' or 'unrest', conflict, in varying degrees, is constant.

Some choice exhibits included the UN wing of the Korean War. I had no idea so many countries were involved, and how extensively. Over 2 large rooms, mannequins representing the different uniforms of each country stood next to models of their respective monuments erected all over Korea and placards detailing their involvement in the conflict. In the center of the room a giant tear contructed of dog tags and wrapped in barbed wire hung suspended from the UN seal. It represented a mourning for the losses of war, and a hope for peace. Several such monuments, illustrating hope for re-unification, or of world peace dotted the museum and grounds. For a war museum, there were a surprising number of monuments to peace.

The peace monuments are a positive example of Soputh Korea's propaganda campaign. On the other hand, every exhibit has a strong nationalistic bent. In each document of a battle whenever the South Korean army is pushed back, it is called 'A Strategic Retreat'. Whenever the other guy gets pushed back, he 'runs away'.

The central hall of the history wing was dominated by one of Admiral Yi's 'Turtle ships'. Admiral Yi has the most successful record of any naval captain, having defeated a Japanese fleet of over 300 with only 13 of his turtle boats. The small ironclad boats were far more maneuverable than the massive Japanese boats, and furthermore, they could shoot in all directions simultaneously. Admiral Yi would navigate his little ships into the middle of a cluster of Japanese boats, and then open fire, decimating them.

Popular with kids, big and little, was the wing filled with North Korean war machines. Nearly every vehicle had a set of steps leading up to it, so one could climb in and out of the driver's seat. It was almost as much fun as the bronze stegasaurus outside the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History.

As we left the museum, the sun was setting behind a statue of two brothers, North and South, embracing. I hope someday in the future it is more than just a hope.

After our big day of war tourism, we decided to have a nice dinner. Yesterday I found a little back street packed with tiny restaurants. Surprisingly, I was able to retrace my steps to a traditional Korean barbeque joint with floor seating, and individual grills on each table. We were the only non-Koreans there, but the menu had pictures, and the waitress spoke a smidge of English, so there were no surprises, which though less exciting, did mean that we were guaranteed a delicious meal.

After dinner, we queued up for the most popular street treat, a kind of donut filled with cinnamon syrup and nuts. Keeping with the theme of the day, we then went across the street to the arcade to shoot zombies. Afterwards, we stopped for tea in an adorable tea shop designed to feel like an old-fashioned rail car.

Finally, we decided to indulge in a form of nightlife particular to Korea - the DVD Bang. For about the price of a movie ticket, one gets a DVD and little room with a couch and large-screen projector TV. Throw in popcorn and drinks for a few extra won, and you have your own private theatre experience. We opted for Curse of the Golden Flower, though not Korean, it was at least Asian, and neither of us had seen it yet.

We finally returned to the guesthouse at about 2AM, having been out since 7:30AM. It was a thoroughly satisfying day.

Day 236 - Bangkok Hit List

We were not very ambitious tourists the last time we were in Bangkok. Today we decided to make up for lost time, but not before lunch at the fish and soup lady's stall. She remembered us!

We stopped first at the Vimanek Teak Mansion, the largest golden teak building in the world, apparently. Built in 1900, the royal family lived there for 6 years before moving and using the place simply as a storehouse for the royal furniture. In the 1980's the current queen decided to re-open not only the teak mansion, but the surrounding buildings as museums. As a result, the teak mansion is now just one of 14 small museums scattered across the former palace grounds.

The Dusit Throne Room was built around the same time as the teak mansion in a Moorish style. Today it is a crafts center showcasing traditional Thai handicrafts. Especially striking were the little sculptures and boxes 'enameled' with mosaics made of tiny bits of beetle wings.

The grounds also house the grand Throne Hall, a neoclassical beast, approximately 85 metres long. It was getting late in the day, so we opted not to visit, only to take photos from the outside.

Most visitors to Bangkok stay on Kao San Road, the backpackers' ghetto. We felt we would be remiss if we didn't at least visit this most famous street. Stopping there, I can see why so many people we have met have had less than kind things to say about Bangkok. It was crowded, dirty, and oh-so-commercial. Most of the kids there were quite young with fresh sunburns from the islands, or with plans to head to the islands at the nearest chance. Popular with boys were dreadlock extensions - so many clean-cut college kids were sitting under the nimble fingers of Thai ladies having their J-Crew preppy hair transformed into world-traveller ratty dreads. Equally popular with the girls (all white, mostly blonde) were having either braided extensions, or tiny braids put in all over their heads, complete with beads on the ends. Perhaps no one told them that they are on the entirely wrong set of islands for that style.

Feeling sufficiently touristed, we decided to head for home. I figured if we aimed for the sun (it was late afternoon) we would be heading west, and would eventually hit the river, and by extension, the river taxis. This reconing made Cz very nervous, but he had no better idea, so off we went. Sure enough, within a few blocks, we reached a sign pointing towards Wat Pra Kaew, which I knew was right on one of the main ferry stops. From there it was easy as pie to just follow the arrows back to the riverfront and hop on the water taxi back to the skytrain.

Back in our neighborhood, I was disapointed to find that pumpkin custard lady had taken the night off. Cz went for a massage, and I consoled myself with a sticky rice and mango. After his massage and some internetting, we went for dinner at all our favourite street stalls, and then caught the skytrain back out to the night market. Once again I was disappointed - bra lady no longer appeared to have a table - but we did finish up the last of our gift buying.

Day 234 - White Elephants Cannot Be Trusted

According to legend, when a new Buddha relic was discovered by the king of Chiang Mai, no one could decide where to build a temple to house it. The king decided to put the relic on the back of a white elephant (sacred animal, but not too bright) and release him in the center of town. Wherever the elephant stopped, the temple would be built.

The elephant headed for the hills. Literally. He marched himself about 6km out of town before stopping on a crest overlooking the budding city. So a Wat and Chedi (Thai stupa - where Buddha relics go) were built on the spot. With the advent of automobiles, a winding road was subsequently added. And I do mean winding with bonus ups and downs.

By the time we arrived at the top of the hill all we could do was stare dizzily about and rub our roiling bellies. Dread in anticipation of the ride down did not improve moods.

We did manage to coax ourselves into the cablecar and the rest of the way up the hill to the Wat (That was one ambitious elephant!). The Wat itself was nice, but not any nicer than others we have visited. Same for the view over town - nice, but we've seen better. Furthermore, the whole complex was crawling with people, and the whole thing felt rather touristic. Of course this is probably coloured by the fact that we still hadn't completely recovered from the ride up.

We did meet this fellow guarding one of the entrances. Someone clearly had a 'complicated' relationship with their parents.

The ride down the hill was nearly as bad as the ride up. We didn't toss our cookies, but our tummies made their displeasure known for the rest of the day.

The owner of our hostel was a tourguide before going into hostelling, and so arranges outings for anyone who cares to join nearly every day. Today's agenda was to visit the oldest Wat in town, the first section of the city to be built, adn the Sunday Night Market, the biggest and best in town.

We began at the old Wat which was just as nice as the one on top of the hill, and far easier to reach. The light was perfect causing the old bricks and the saffron robes of the monks sweeping and tending the grounds to glow. The hostel owner was most knowlegeable, giving us not ony a brief history of the Wat, but of Thailand as a whole.

From there, we went into the old city wall where we learned more history, including the story of the ambitious white elephant. Once off the wall, it was only a short hop to the sunday market.

Every Sunday night, the two main cross streets in the old town close completely to vehicles and transform into a 2km by 2km open-air market. Anything and everything is on sale from crafts to mass produced goods to pirated CD's and DVD's. And food. Much of it is conventional (good) street fair - fruit, phad thai, spring rolls, soups - but some of it strays into the bizzare. When I say you can find any meat on a stick, I mean any meat on a stick. Including a giant cockroach. I should have made a video of me crunching him to bits to play in my kitchen in NY. It would be way safer to the cats than roach bombing...though perhaps it could put a dent in my social life...

After the market, we all piled into a shared taxi and headed back to our own quiet neighborhood. Where we had a lovely (and so conventional) soup and rice dinner before walking back to our hostel for another round of TV before bed.

Day 214 - Monuments and Museums

Today we decided to experience the brighter side of Phnom Penh. We started the day at the symbol of the city, Wat Phnom. Legend has it that a lady named Penh found 4 Buddhas washed up on the banks of the Mekong, and housed them on a hill near where she found them. The town the grew up around that hill became Phnom Penh - literally, The Hill of Penh.

Today, a simple Wat and a few stupas adorn the 27m high hill. One stupa also seemed to be home to a friendly butterfly that fluttered around and around the point, landing occasionaly nearby, and once even on my shoulder. The wat itself is very popular with students who come to pray for good grades on their exams. If they do get good marks, they return to make offerings of banannas and flowers. The offerings are much appreciated by the troupe of plump monkeys that gambol around the hill.

The hill is also home to many entrepeneurial vendors selling everything from incence for the Buddha to pickled mangos, to small birds. One purchases a bird to free it from its cage, but word has it that the birds are trained to return to the cages after liberation. Also abundant on the hill are the naked children of the vendors. They squeal, run about, and spray each other with the hoses intended to water the trees and grass of the monuments. Very cute.

From Wat Phnom, we opted to walk down the waterfront to the Royal Palace and National Museum. The riverfront is a bustling center with upmarket hotels, retaurants, and vestiges of French colonial architecture.

Wat Ounalum is tucked discreetly between the shopping area and the National Museum/Royal Palace complex. During the Khmer Rouge all of its Buddhas were therown in the Mekong or smashed. In the eighties, they were hauled out and restored - go Buddha! Anyway, when we arrived, the place was locked, and we feared that we had stumbled into a private area. Soon though, an old man came around the corner with a ring of keys and unlocked the door. The main Buddha supposedly contains an eyelash of Bhudda himself. We lit incense before that statue, and were blessed with jasmine-infused holy water.

When we arrived at The Royal Palce, it too was locked up tight. Turns out the guards lock up from 11-2 for lunch and siesta. While we decided what to do while we waited, a girl selling water came over to chat with us. She made a very persuasive argument, and we promised to buy a bottle when we returned.

The National Museum is a beautiful building with French Indochine architecture. It houses several sculptures and artifacts from Pre-Angkor Cambodia on. Best of all were the 'room o' Buddhas' and the fishponds in the courtyard. True to form, we were more excited about feeding the fish than about the exhibits.

We finished the museum at almost exactly two, and wandered back over to the now-open palace. Stuck off the end of one building in the courtyard was an incongruous, lacy white building, The Pavilion of Napoleon III. Oh, those wacky French.

The complex's claim to fame is the Silver Pagoda, which is not actually silver at all. It is so named because of its floor of several thousand silver tiles, each weighing over 1kilo. The Khmer Rouge claimed to leave the Royal Palace and Silver Pagoda intact to show their respect for Cambodia's history and culture. That said, much was still stolen or lost during their regime.

When we left the palce grounds, it was late afternoon, and consequently much cooler with nice, slanting light. We walked slowly home on the mercifully logical, gridded streets. Never again will I take for granted logical city planning!

Tommorrow morning, we depart for Kratie, then wilds of Laos. As stated in the update, don't worry if you don't here from us for a while. Computers are thin on the ground up there from what I hear.

Day 213 - No Place for Old Men

There are few old ladies in Phnom Penh. There are even fewer old men. It is a viceral reminder of the genocide of less than 30 years ago.

This morning we visited Choeng Ek Genocidal Center, better known as The Killing Fields. This the place where more than 10,000 Khmer men, women, and children were executed and thrown into mass graves. Strangely, and like S-21, the area is very peaceful. Grass and flowers have grown over the pits of the excavated graves, and butterflies swarm over the place.

There are more that 300 known 'killing fields' in Cambodia, Choeng Ek is just the most famous because its victims are the best documented, having been the elite of the capital city. Surely there are even more sites that have not been uncovered, let alone documented.

In order to save bullets, victims were usually bludgeoned with bamboo rods, hoes, or other farm implements. Others had their throats cut by machete or were suffocated with plastic bags. Frequently they were merely unconscious when whey were thrown into the pits, and were buried alive. Because the families were told that the people being taken away were being taken for 'reeducation', they did not know that they were being taken for execution until they still hadn't returned many years later. Many burial and execution sites were left undiscovered because they were frequently in remote wooded areas. Choeng Ek was in a forest that had once been a Chinese cemetery. It was only discovered in 1980 because the smell from the shallowly and improperly buried bodies became to strong to ignore.

At least 10,000 bodies were uncovered. In 1988 a memorial was built in their honour. Every time it rains, more clothing and bones rise to the surface. These bones and garments are gathered and attempts are made to give them a respectful resting place, but often they wind up simply piled at the bases of trees. As we walked between rhe excavated pits, bits of clothing scattered the path, and smooth bones showed under a fine layer of dust. Even treading carefully, it was impossible not to avoid stepping on them entirely. Perhaps most disturbing was single human tooth lying in the middle of one of the paths like just another pebble.

When Pol Pot's Khmer Rouge swept through Phnom Penh, it obliterated the educated classes. Besides the immediate impact, it slammed the brakes on Cambodia's development. As of 1980, there were no universities in Cambodia, and only 20 high schools for the entire population. Well into the 80's people were afraid to get an education, because the memories of what had happened to the other educated people were still too fresh. Even had they wished to study, there were no professors with which to staff the universities. To this day, the majority of Cambodians over the age of 25 only have an 8th grade or lower education.

Eventually, professors from France, many of them Cambodians who had been living in in Europe, returned to their home country to rebuild the education system. Today, young Cambodians go to school, frequently through college. Nearly all begin studying English between ages five and seven, as their parents believe it the path to a brighter future. The government encourages students with scholarships to study in Australia, France, and even occasionally the USA.

The country is on the upswing, but there are still major hurdles to its development. Corruption is rife within the government, with personal gain often winning out over public good in the allocation of funds. NGO's are a big business in Cambodia. Certainly they are doing some good in the country, and arguably the country would be much worse off without their support, but the upper level employees enjoy a standard of living higher even than that of most Americans. In a country where the US dollar is worth 4000 of the local currency, it is not hard to imaging how much better off the place would be should those dollars be directed into development programs, rather than bankrolling a five-star lifestyle. Tourism, perhaps the biggest potential source of income for Cambodia - none of her neighbors can boasts ruins of more renown than the temples of Angkor - could be a lifeblood for the country. Unfortunately, most of the national treasures are privately owned, and the bulk of their revenue goes to line the pockets of the corporations and individuals who control them.

It is hard to believe such recent and ongoing political turmoil in such a friendly and apparently peaceful country. The area around Choeng Ek is surrounded by new houses, and lush floodplains where homes on stilts perch to avoid the annual floods. Children wave from doorways, and everyone who speaks English is excited to try conversation with a foreigner.

Perhaps nowhere is the entrepreneurial spirit more evident than at The Russian Market, so called because it is where the Russians went shopping the late 80's. Today it half tourist souvenir junk store, and half working marketplace selling everything from tires to fruits. In between the 'junk stores' and the working market, food and drink vendors dish up meals for pennies. We feasted on noodles and spring rolls, and for 75 cents, left the market with a big bag of Rambutan, one of my favourite fruits that usually cost about $6 per pound at home.

On the way back to our guesthouse, we stopped at an internet cafe to catch up on the blog and e-mails. The larger Cambodian cities are remarkably well 'wired' with far faster and more reliable connections than even India, the supposed IT capitol of the world. This connectivity is a relatively new development. In the 1990's, there were few internet cafes, and these charged up to $10 and hour. Today, there seems to be an internet connection every other block, and cost less than 50 cents and hour.

Back at the the guesthouse, we took a little break to cool off before hiring a tuk-tuk out to the National Museum for sunset. According to my guidebook, the roof of the museum is home to the largest population of bats in a man made structure in the world. We had hoped to witness the spectacle of thousands of bats streaming out of the elegant building. Unfortunately, between the time of my book's publication and our arrival in Cambodia, the director of the museum had put anti-bat measures in place, and the eaves were woefully bat-free. I hope they found a nice new home.

Thwarted, we returned to the guest house where the receptionist was giving an impromptu magic show. She even tried to teach us how to do a few of the simpler tricks...all but one of which proved beyond my capability. Among the audience was an American girl on vacation from teaching English in China. She and two of her friends, also teacher in China, were planning to have dinner at Friends, a training restaurant that both raises money for causes around the city and trains Cambodian street kids in the restaurant and hotel industry. Cz and I had wanted to dine there too during our stay in Cambodia, so we joined up and made a jolly night of it. It sort of blew our food budget for the day (we have gotten very spoiled on 1.50 street eats), but we figured why not splash out a little on a good meal for a good cause.

Day 212 - Reeducation

We opted for overland to get from Battambang to Phnom Penh, as the water route would mean backtracking to Siem Reap, then taking the express boat across Tonle Sap Lake. In the wet season the express boat is merely uncomfortable. In the dry season, smaller boats make the run, but the same number of tickets are sold as for the larger boats, resulting, predictably, in boats overcrowded to the point of capsize.

The first two thirds of the bus ride were uneventful. The road was paved (a new development in Cambodian overland travel), and the bus reasonably air-conditioned. Unfortunately, about 4 hours into the 6 hour run, the air con froze up. A little cool air still trickled from the vents, but nearly enough to counter the full load of warm bodies crammed inside. The last two hours were pretty sweaty, and not enhanced by the carsick toddler in the row behind us. Luckily he had only eaten banana and rice, so it didn't smell much or go anywhere but on himself and his poor mom's lap.

We expected our arrival in Phnom Penh to feel much like our arrival in Delhi - hot, crowded, hassly, and full of touts. There were some fairly aggressive tuk-tuk drivers, but we were able to negotiate a fair deal to our guest house fairly easily. The guest house proved better than expected, with our own immaculate bathroom, towels, and even air conditioning. I did some laundry, and we basked for a while in our cool cocoon before deciding to walk to the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum.

The museum is housed in S-21, or Security Office 21 of the Khmer Rouge. In a previous life, it had been a high school. When the Khmer Rouge captured Phnom Penh, they divided the classrooms into cells and interrogation rooms. Even the playground exercise equipment was converted for use as torture devices. The frame of the swing set still stands, which in Khmer Rouge times was a place where prisoners would be hoisted up by their wrists and abused until they lost consciousness. Of the approximately 14,000 people imprisoned there from 1975-1979, only 7 survived. Most of the high-ranking officials have evaded trial and justice in a political and legal morass. More horrifying still are the hundreds of children trained as guards and torturers. Most Cambodians agree not to prosecute these children, believing that had they not become child soldiers, they too would have died, and that have punished themselves enough in their own minds.

Today, S-21 is a strangely peaceful place. When arrived at 4PM, the late afternoon sun slanted through windows and across the courtyard giving the yellow walls a warm glow. Birds twittered in the flowerings trees of the courtyard, and two Khmer children chased each other on bicycles, shrieking and laughing, incongruous sounds to come in through the window of room still containing the iron bed and shackles of its last, doomed inhabitant.

The first building is a stark reminder of the atrocities carried out here. Each classroom contains the bed and shackles of its last resident. A single, mercifully grainy, black and white photo in each room shows that bed and room as they were found, with the broken body of the prisoner still chained in place.

The first floor of the next building contains hundreds of mug shots of victims as they were brought into S21. Entire families were brought in for 'reeducation', from infants to grandparents. In no photo is anyone crying, not even the babies. Everyone stares at the camera with faces registering shock, fear, defiance, confusion -a whole range of emotion, but all contained. Perhaps most striking are the old men and ladies who face the camera with chins up, eyes straight ahead. They perhaps know best what is to come, but somehow manage to preserver their dignity. In another photo, a little boy of about ten pulls away from a guard just visible to the side, cocks his hip, and smirks at the camera with all his youthful bravado. In yet another picture a young woman stares straight ahead with sad eyes, her arms wrapped gently around the new baby sleeping in her lap. Near her picture, a toddler purses her lips and peers coyly out of the frame, looking for all the world like PI (Cz's niece in the Philippines) posing for a family photo. Further down the line, a college-age girl poses in a souvenir t-shirt from Miami Beach, Florida. It is impossible to remember every face, no matter how hard one tries, but as a group, they represent the brightest of Phnom Penh, and the hope for a solid future snuffed out. Individually, they are the mothers, sisters, brothers, fathers, husbands, whole families whose stories will never be known because the Khmer Rouge saw to it that there no one was left to bear witness.

The final group of buildings remain divided into cells. The cells are about 3 feet wide by seven feet long, built with red bricks in former classrooms. The lucky inmates had most a of a window in their cells. The less fortunate received only the barest sliver of daylight. Everyone was chained at the ankle and regularly tortured. Even now, the rooms are dark and musty, and smell faintly of dust and rot.

Other floors of each section contain exhibits dedicated to the memories of those who were interrogated at S21 before being executed at the killing fields. The exhibits range from amateur paintings showing prison life to photos and stories from surviving family members, to shelves of skulls and torture devices.

It is a sobering place, made more so because it is not softened by many years of history. The events of S-21 happened within most of our lifetimes. The Khmer Rouge only fell in 1979. Cambodia was only fully opened to Western visitors in 1996. To this day, there is debate over the extent of the atrocities committed under Pol Pot, and over whether the perpetrators will be or should brought to justice nearly 30 years too late. The US does not have clean hands in the matter. Our involvement in Vietnam, and later carpet bombing and invasion of eastern Cambodia caused hundreds of thousands of civilian deaths directly, and hundreds of thousands more to turn to the Khmer Rouge, who would later execute them. Among the many facts which remain hazy are exact numbers of people killed. The most recent study indicates it is probably 2, but perhaps as much as 3 million. In a small country of 14 million, that potentially represents nearly quarter of the population.

I am amazed that the events here do not get more press. In school, we all read The Diary of Anne Frank and learn about the Nazi's, but of SE Asia, most of us only learn about Vietnam with a glancing look at Pol Pot. No one seems to want to hear the stories of families fleeing into Thailand across mine-infested forests, or of children forced to work as executioners. Perhaps we hear less about them because in this case we were not the liberating heroes, as we were in Europe. Perhaps, even more cynically, we do not hear about it because the victims were not white people in a place where Westerners regularly visit. Perhaps it is a case of history already repeating itself in Africa and the Middle East. We failed the first time we got involved, and we are continuing to fail around the world. Rather than face the embarrassment, perhaps the West is preferring to simply sweep events under the rug. I know too little of world politics to offer anything more than observation. I have nothing to offer in the way of opinion of what we could or should do beyond that observation. Perhaps it is enough to bear witness, to tell stories. It is impossible for any one person or country to save the world, and arrogant to try. It is, however, I think the responsibility of each individual to try to make it a little better. And by doing that, perhaps it can be saved.