drowned rat in siem rep

It was one of those exhilarating moments. The kind that makes you remember that this is what traveling is about. On Sunday, day 2 of my Siem Rep trip visiting temples like Angkor Wat and Angkor Thom, I was caught in a downpour. Not just a regular downpour, but a full-on monsoon style soaking. I quickly became fully drenched as we rode on the back of motorbikes about 45 minutes away from Siem Rep on the way back from visiting Banteay Serey, a temple further out.

pre-rain



The rain came down in sheets hitting every part of my body, at times like a needle and at other times like small stones pummeling me. Then the wind kicked in, chilling my already soaked body. My pants stuck to my legs and my sneakers collected pools of water, but through it all, it was wonderful being a drowned rat.

Old people safari or to be PC, elderly people safari

I realized that I haven’t posted about what I’m doing this summer professionally. So I’m making amends and writing about my field work a couple of weeks ago – a topic I think, and hope you will find, is infinitely more interesting as it combines information about my job as well as my travel musings. And who won’t want to hear about my job?

As part of my work with the Documentation Center of Cambodia (“DC-Cam”), a NGO that initially started by collecting documents about the Democratic Kampuchea (DK), more popularly known as the Khmer Rouge (KR), I’m conducting interviews with former KR cadres. I’m doing this work because one of DC-Cam’s roles, as it has evolved, is to provide the UN-created hybrid tribunal, the Extraordinary Chambers of Courts of Cambodia (ECCC) with legal research.

This summer, I’m working with DC-Cam’s Legal Response Team on a legal issue relevant to the prosecution of the Khmer Rouge. My research project is incredibly interesting thus far; I’m looking at a novel issue that I don’t believe has ever been prosecuted before in this context. If I can make an argument and the prosecutors agree, this issue might be prosecuted. This is what fascinates me about international human rights law – the fact that it is constantly developing and emerging as a way to bring about justice.

But back to the topic at hand, this past week found me out in the field, in the provinces specifically, not only interviewing former KR leaders but also seeing how most Cambodians live. While a great deal of the population lives in Phnom Penh, the capital city, the majority of Cambodians reside in the countryside.

The countryside is its own world. As you’re driving down the national highways, there are turnoffs on dirt roads. These dirt roads stretch for miles, surrounded on each side by endless rice paddies. Every once in a while, there is a house built on stilts, someone riding a tractor, or a water buffalo. The countryside is one of the most serene places I have traveled to in Cambodia. There is very little litter on the roads and generally, a quieter pace.


dirt roads


house on stilts


It is also quite rural. During one of the interviews, the former Khmer Rouge cadre we were interviewing was just returning from a day in the fields and his home did not have any electricity. I was doing my interview by flashlight until a neighbor brought by a car battery, which was used to generate electricity for the lights and also the TV.

Outside of looking at rice paddies, my field work included a lot of sitting in the SUV, asking for directions and looking for old people. The former because there are no markers to indicate which village or commune we are in; the latter because we had a list of people we wanted to interview, but many were either herding their cows or had passed away. As such, we were stuck asking older people if they had any exposure to the Khmer Rouge or served any role related to the research project.


rice paddies

During most of the interviews, we ended up being surrounded by people staring at us. Kids in particular were fascinated by us. It is always nice to be the center of attention. :)


kids

it's not unusual

but it really is b/c there is only one asian tom jones. as promised, this is the man, the myth, the legend: the asian tom jones. the photo was taken by erin. her caption, which i thought was appropriate, was: "I couldn't get a non-blurry photo, the man was shaking his hips too fast."

quick update

I'm going into the field, the provinces to be exact, this week to interview former Khmer Rouge cadres -- specifically, commune and village chiefs for my research project --- so I don't have time for a real post. (Run on sentence, anyone?)

When I come back, however, I have stories about the Asian Tom Jones; sitting in a hut; and trying not to get attacked by chickens, pigs, and dogs. Until then, have a great week and greetings from Cambodia!

Why I’m not Spiderman

It’s a good thing I bought travel insurance. Last week, on Monday night, technically Tuesday morning, I spent some quality time at the SOS International [Health] Clinic. The reason why? I thought I was Spiderman.

I arrived home on Monday night at about 11:30pm to find that our padlock had been locked on the inside of our gate instead of the outside. There was no way for me to access the padlock other than by getting someone who was already home to unlock it for me. I tried waking up the landlord. I pounded on his door a few times. I also tried in vain to call my roommate but to no avail. I was locked out of my apartment.

Instead of going to another friend’s house, I decided that I could climb the gate, the 7 feet high gate. I had seen my friend from work, my friend who is 6’2”, climb over the gate so I thought I could do the same. As most of you know, I’m a fairly independent person and I’m all about equal opportunity. Whatever a boy does, I can also do…most of the time. This time, I underestimated.

(This is where the gruesome part starts so if you’re sensitive about blood and all that good stuff, stop reading now.) With one leg over one side of the gate and the other leg on the other side, my leg got caught, impaled really, on the sharp metal spike on top of the gate to prevent burglars from breaking in. It’s such a relief to know that it’s effective.

So, there I was impaled on the gate, my leg bleeding profusely. And I did what every person in this type of situation does – I panicked and called for help, which ended up waking up the entire neighborhood. I had all my Cambodian neighbors running out to see what the commotion was about. At first they all thought I was a burglar. That impression was easily corrected as I writhed in pain on top of the gate. Then, with the assistance of my landlord and another neighbor, I was finally able to get my leg pulled off the spike. Of course, this entire exchange happened with my neighbors who speak very limited English.

Four stitches later, I am almost good as new and with a story and scar to boot! I get my stitches out tonight. I’m hoping that I don’t get an infection. I won’t go into the details about my visit to the clinic, but needless to say, I don’t recommend getting hurt in a developing country.

For those of you who have asked me why I haven’t posted recently, this is why…I know definitively that I’m not Spiderman.

the dark side

I’ve been seeing another side of Cambodia this past week – perhaps the more realistic side that I’ve only caught glimpses of so far. I read recently in an article (http://www.newstimeslive.com/news/story.php?id=1055043&source=tabbox) that Cambodia will break your heart and I can see why.

From the Tuol Seng Genocide Museum to the pedophiles on the street and the people living in tents and dilapidated shacks by the side of the river to the little boys waiting for us to finish eating so they can quickly eat our leftovers before being yelled at by the restaurant workers, I’m seeing this other side of Cambodia and it makes my heart break. Sure, we can do things on a micro level and give a little bit of food or money here and there, but what about the long term? There are hundreds of NGOs here, but yet little progress seems to be made (though I can’t really say this definitively b/c this is first trip to Cambodia so I haven’t seen the progress being made or already made – I have no reference point). But what I can say definitively is that Cambodia faces many problems.

The poverty and the other problems that Cambodia faces today makes me question whether a tribunal will really be helpful to the average person here. Others have raised similar questions-- http://www.voanews.com/english/2007-06-12-voa47.cfm. A tribunal ends the culture of impunity and perhaps gives closure to the people living here who lost a family member because of the Khmer Rouge, but in a country where people surveyed do not really care about a tribunal, what is its use? Is it just an exercise in futility to serve the international community’s need for justice? Will it serve any benefit to the people here?

TGFB*

I don’t think I’d ever utter these words…but thank goodness for the Backstreet Boys. If I thought Korean karaoke music videos were bad, I really didn’t know what I was in for with Khmer (Cambodian) music and karaoke videos. The Backstreet Boys were a welcome respite from the high pitched, emo, and very loud Khmer music blasting on the bus as I rode through the south of Cambodia on my way to Sihanoukville this past weekend.

Along the way, I was greeted by emaciated cows, such that the cows’ ribs were visibly protruding, and kids in school uniforms walking home from school on a Saturday afternoon. Traditional Cambodian houses built on wooden stilts in an attempt, I think, to keep out the water during the rainy season bordered the one-lane highway. During the dry season, the bottoms of the houses seemed to be used for a variety of purposes – to dry laundry, to sit on a hammock, to store cars or motos, and most importantly, to shoot the shit with other people. I also saw a minivan crammed, no bursting actually, with people. There were at least four people in the front seat, not including the driver, and six people in every row in the main part of the vehicle. Plus there were people sitting on top of the van itself. There must have been at least five people plus packages on top of the van. I think they were as equally interested in staring at those of us on the bus as we were with them.

The changing scenery along the way was also quite impressive. Cambodia is a beautiful country with lush green mountains, trees, and rice fields. And the beach isn’t too shabby either if you can ignore the copious litter and vendors. The beach we went to, Serendipity Beach, is not like any beach I’ve been to before, but from what I’ve been told, typical of the beaches in Asia. What made the beach different for me were the shacks set up behind the beach and the plethora of vendors on the beach who offered a variety of services and wares from threading (taking a thread to get rid of unwanted hair), pedicures, and $5 massages to bracelets and Pringles. (Yes, I took advantage of the hour-long $5 massage right on my beach chair.) One of the best things about these vendors, who balanced the foods they offered on their head, was the variety of food and the fact that they cooked it right in front of you. We tried grilled squid and “lobster,” but were also offered fruit and spring rolls. Probably one of the worst things about the vendors was their persistence. They really wouldn’t go away, but I don’t blame them either. Realistically, they need to make a living. Unfortunately a great number of the vendors were little kids who, after some time harassing us to buy their products, really just wanted to talk to us. There were also a few amputees and blind people trying to make a living by begging.

grilled squid on the beach

woman balancing platter of lobsters on her head. no hands! i was impressed.

Serendipity Beach is filled with Khmer tourists on the weekend who come down for the sea and sand as well. Unlike the rest of us in our bikinis and speedos (there’s always a guy in a Speedo), the Khmers swim fully clothed. Serendipity also has a number of resorts and guesthouses. The one we stayed in, Same Same But Different, was quite shabby but right on the beach. The lock on the outside of the door was a padlock; the inside a rusted lock that didn’t quite lock completely. At one point in the night I woke up to discover the door wide open. And the guesthouse staff liked to hang out outside our room because our curtains didn’t completely close either. Quality five-star lodging for sure.

*In my debt of gratitude to the Backstreet Boys, this post is entitled “Thank goodness for the Backstreet Boys.”