Jeffrey’s Journey

Cambodia has been an experience of extremes.

I don’t even know how to begin summarizing the experience I had in the last two weeks largely because I had so many different ones. I think the biggest difference between my time in Cambodia and my experiences in other countries have mainly been on the emotional side. While I had the time of my life here, there were so many moments that were emotionally provocative as well as tolling, experiences from the locals that just shook up my insides to a point where they will almost certainly remain crystal clear in memory, probably forever.

Without a doubt, the children of Cambodia are special. They are also the people that made my visit to Cambodia so rich and touching. Many children in Cambodia live in poverty, helping make ends meet by selling copies of tourist books they carry around in baskets, offering little services like shoe shining, or just begging. Often, Chad and I would play with the children, invite the street children to a meal, and just hang out. It was during these times where I met some of the most incredible kids with stories that tugged at the strings of my heart. The kids are really so smart, so adorable, and resilient to the point where I wondered if I ever really had a legitimate point in my life to complain about. With every story told, I began to feel like a bigger pussy for the things I complained about.

My experiences in Cambodia are filled with memories of these kids. I remember meeting a child named Ling, who was a 10- year old little girl. Ling came up to us as we were having dinner to sell books in her basket, so we invited her to dinner with us. It was quickly obvious that she was incredibly bright, very adorable, and a good-natured kid. However, just being 10-years old, she was able to warn us of why ‘Cambodian Ladies’ (working girls) were bad. Ling explained that if we ever hired the affections of a Cambodian Lady, we would have to check her forearms for drug abuse, as this is commonly the case. She also spoke of how she wanted to be a dentist, and how she needed to get her family out of Cambodia when she had the means to relocate her family, because Cambodia wasn’t a healthy place to be. When we said Cambodia was ‘really nice, a really great place,’ she simply explained ‘You do not live here, so you do not know. You are tourist. But when you live here, not the same.’ After she explained, that was the point where Chad and I looked at each other, with nothing to say, because she was totally right. When you are a child in Cambodia, I guess you have no choice but to grow up fast.

There were certain times where I would find myself seriously contemplating if I could really pull an Angelina Jolie and adopt a few of these adorable little kids.

In all the rich memories I have of Cambodia, one particular memory stands out. The event itself took place for only a few seconds, but I found myself thinking back to it over and over. Chad and I had just arrived at a Museum and were climbing out of our tuk tuk. When I turned around, I saw a man that had his whole face burned, his skin replaced with something that looked like melted wax all over his body. He was hobbling on one leg I think, I couldn’t be sure because my gaze was stuck on the eye socket that didn’t have an eye in it. There was just a hole. I don’t think he had a nose. He couldn’t speak, only able to make grunting noises as a substitute for words. By this point, I was used to all the landmine victims with missing limbs and eyes, the 16 year-old prostitutes, the naked children with mother’s outstretched hand, all to a point where I could disconnect my feelings the emotions to a certain degree, and be able to move on. But this, this sight, was more than I could handle. It stopped me in my tracks, in the middle of the street, watching as this man hobbled to me begging for money with an open palm. I froze. I wanted to give him money, but I really didn’t know if it would do ultimately help him or do a disservice. I didn’t know. I didn’t know anything at that moment, only that I was sorry.

Later, over and over, I wondered if the condition of this man was the fault of napalm my country made. 

A really obvious but important lesson I learned while traveling is that history IS real. When I hear that a war is going on, a catastrophe, a natural disaster, a genocide, a famine, an epidemic, whatever the event that happened, I now know that these weren’t just stories or images on a screen or in a book, real people actually suffered. I thought I’ve always known this simple, seemingly elementary-level fact, but it’s different when you put a face to an event, a personal tragic story to a genocide. When this happened for me, the shit suddenly got ‘real’. The difference between them and me is as simple as an unfair lottery that assigned my soul into my body, born in a country of privilege and opportunity, whereas they weren’t so lucky. If I was born in Cambodia, I may be a street child, a tuk tuk driver, a landmine victim, or a prostitute as well.

Anyway, I don’t want to turn this entry into a darker one, because this by no means the whole of my experience in Cambodia. I had fun, loads of fun. Unapologetic about my slightly hedonistic style, I drank, and ate, and was merry. I think ‘I’m in love with a stripper.’ I bought so much shit, I don’t know how I would ever get it back home (I found out sending it in a secure package would cost about $350.00 USD, so again, I’m fooked. I ended up buying over 40 DVD’s, a hammock, and some other useless stuff). I ate things that made me think about trying out for Fear Factor. And the rare times where I would get slightly out of control, I would just apologize and say I’m from Canada.

Anyway, the amazing rollercoaster ride that is Cambodia, Chad and I experienced together. We had a total blast. I was unsure if I’d keep in touch with any travelers I met, but I think Chad and I broke the artificial friendship stage and it’s nice to be able to be stupid, politically incorrect, and feel that passing out wouldn’t be so dangerous because you had a friend around. If those aren’t marks of true friendship, what is?

In conclusion of my Cambodia experience, I’d like to sign off with a video of me eating a bug that resembled a big cockroach:

~Just added a video of hijacking a bicycle tuk tuk and riding it down Phenom Penh.

Here’s me in all my glory. Shooting guns and eating cockroaches (tried to upload, but will do it later. Doesn’t seem to be working). There’s photos as well. I know you miss the sight of my beautiful mug, so have a field day.

For 2 days now I’ve been in Phnom Penh, the capitol of Cambodia. It’s kind of nice because there’s less hucksters on the street and they are a less aggressive breed. Nevertheless, they are still around.

Phnom Phen is a lawless city. I feel, in many ways, the way of life resembles the Wild West. And while I’m sure there are laws, I can’t really think of a situation you can’t buy your way out of, or into, for that matter. It feels as if anything goes in this land.

The last few days have also been a complete blast. In that time, I’ve eaten ostrich meat (quite good!). I’ve eaten a snake that was kept alive in a restaurant. I got to see it right before we ordered it into the kitchen and to it’s execution, coming out stir fried with skin and bone attached. I’ve eaten snake eggs, which were about the size of marbles. On the bus to Phnom Penh, also I took a big bite of tarantula. It tasted like beef jerky with a hint of fish, I’d imagine it would be quite good if snacked over a few bottles of beer.

I’ve also just had a one of the most bizarre days in my life. In the morning, I went to a shooting range. There, we were given several choices: we could have shot an M-16, a variety of pistols, a tommy gun, a shot gun, or an automatic AK-47. I myself am not a guy who likes guns, so forgive me for indulging in the AK-47. After all, I was born in Texas damnit. That in and of itself, is a disease.

Oh, and I forgot to mention, if you had enough riels, you could even shoot a grenade launcher. And that’s not all, nooo way, because for a guy who has a lot of riels, you could actually rent a TANK for an hour and shoot off a shell into the mountainside. And the guns, if you so desired, I hear you can shoot your automatic weapons at unassuming animals such as cows. Welcome to Phnom Phen.

Right after that, I visited the killing fields, where thousands of lives were ended by the Khmer Rouge. After standing close and looking right into the skulls that belonged to victims of the massacre, reading about their lives, and how they lost their lives, reading about why they lost their lives… being so close you can see the cracks in their skulls, the teeth, seeing the fear they must have met at the end, I was feeling sick about firing a weapon, just minutes earlier. I felt irresponsible.

On the street, I’ve been offered ecstasy, weed, speed, opium, and crystal meth. A big bottle of Mekong Whisky will set you back ONE dollar, which I happily bought. You can have girls delivered to your door by contacting the guesthouse owner for about 15 bucks (which I didn’t buy). If you wanted to eat a cobra, dog, or whatever animal for that matter, as long as the local population can get their hands on it, I’m sure you can have it set in a pan, cooked, neatly nestled into your plate, and ready to eat in a day’s notice.

This place is lawless.

I just got back from dinner, where a crazy British guy was literally yelling and cursing at us for being American. His yelling got to a point where I clutched my fork and readied myself to stab him in the neck if he leaped at us. I already saw the whole thing play out in my head. I spoke to Chad after he left and found out he had loosened his knife from the scabbard similarly anticipating an attack.

Oh. And I also lost control and found myself, for the first time, really feeling and acting like a shopaholic. I mean I really did turn into a chick. Chad and I went to the Russian Market and shopped for hours until we were too tired to walk anymore and to a point where we needed to re-hydrate ourselves. It was as if I couldn’t stop. I knew what I was doing was bad, very bad, but it felt sooo good. I was even getting a little rush out of it. Tonight, I am the embarrassed owner of 31 new DVDs I previously didn’t have, 2 of which are the same because in the rabid buying frenzy that became of me, I failed to realize I just bought that DVD earlier.  AND I’m fucken backpacking, which means I need to be able to fit all my belongings at any given time in a single backpack (not to mention the cost of the DVD’s). As the Scottish would say, I’m fooked. But damn, it felt so, so good.

And I don’t even have a DVD player.

Yesterday we took a ride to the mine museum. It’s not really a museum in the sense that it has maximum security, 4 walls, and light expositions. It’s actually a shack with news articles and actual mines that were found in Cambodia. The tuk tuk driver assured us we would be taking the ‘good road’ to the museum, although I couldn’t imagine a scenario where the road could have been worse. The mine museum also serves as a refuge for child mine victims, where they can learn English and I also assume that they’re provided a place to sleep, in hopes for a better future.

The experience as a whole was touching to say the least. An interesting statistic I read:

3 percent of the mines planted in Cambodia exploded on military targets. The other 97 percent exploded on civilians. In the last week, we met a few people that belonged to that 97%. At the mine museum, some of the children were drawing and writing their story. This was taken from an actual diary of a mine victim I met:

- My name is Sophart. I am 19 years old. I have four brothers and two sisters. my father and mother are farmers. My house was near the thai border in a small village. I went with my brothers to the jungle to get food.

Where we went was a mine field. one of my brothers that was walking in front of me stepped on a mine. Some fragments came into my eye. We went to held my brother [when] I stepped on an other mine and lost my leg.

I went back to town to get help, I was very scared.

I could not walk only hop. I had to go very help to get help by myself, because both my brother had died. I made it to get help and bought to the hospital. I spent six weeks in the hospital.

When I went home I only worked and never went to school. I met Mr. Akira when he came to clear mines and he asked me to come stay with him and go to school. -

Another mine victim, a little boy named Poy, was drawing a picture of planes dropping bombs on villages and killing families. The planes had USA written on the sides.

During 1969, the US began bombing Eastern Cambodia in an effort to disperse the Viet Cong Communist camps, killing thousands and effecting more. The picture Poy drew will be posted soon.

The last few nights Chad and I have been roaming the streets of Siem Reap, drunk. It’s actually kind of funny, how we get drunk. We always go back to this mini-mart, a place where we first found a beer called Klang Beer. See, this beer has the firepower of a full 7 percent Alcohol and costs 45 cents a can, so you get a bit drunk after 3 or 4 cans if consumed in a rush. We love it. We actually go back so much, I think the gay guy at the counter developed, lets call it, an affinity, to the site of us walking in.

As we roam the streets, there are so many street children hustling for money. We always take a few minutes to mess around with them, talk to them, and just hang out. We even have play fights with a bunch of them like WWF wrestling, it’s funny. This, added to the fact that we are huge compared to everyone else on the street, has made us recognizable, to say the least. I think we’ve become their favorite temporary toy.

The moto taxi drivers and tuk tuk drivers also know us. Because we harass them back in a joking manner (we give them the same sales pitch when they try to sell us, and they laugh), or we chat with them, they all have come to know us. Yesterday we were a bit tipsy again, and we managed to make an appointment where every tuk tuk driver would be waiting for us to take us to the temple, the floating city, eat snake, see a snake show, made appointments to get a hand jobs, a blow jobs, some boom boom with some pretty ladies (this isn’t a joke, they sell EVERYTHING here).

Some highlights in the last week:

-We ate at a restaurant that had a sign that said: mind the gap, mind your head, mind the crocks. We thought this was mildly clever, and as we sat down, we noticed that there really were crocodiles in a pit right next to where we were sitting! We even got to feed them.

-Yesterday we wandered into a “disco-massage” establishment. We knew full well this would be a sketchy place. When we got in, we quickly found a room that looked like those line-up rooms where witnesses would ID criminals through a one way mirror. Except there were a bunch of girls in bikini’s sitting there, just staring back at you, waiting to be picked and taken to a room upstairs that rents by the hour.

And sadly, the last part of this clip gets cut.