The next day after a bit of troubleshooting, I figured out that though the hold switch can still be physically moved, the buttons and scroll wheel cannot be electronically activated. This situation is quite annoying because it seems like the ipod would still be fully functional if the hold were turned off. Unfortunately my computer and music are in Minnesota, and all the sweet tunes I got off Vinh at the Boom Boom Room are on my ipod with no backup. Hopefully I can access the music on my ipod via another computer and burn a backup before taking it to the Apple folks to see about a repair or simply an upgrade to the latest model.

Which brings me to my present situation, lounging on my new couch listening to some tunes on my sister’s computer. It is a quick fix, but I can’t go too long without my tunes so a long-term solution to the problem will have to be found soon. The new couch we got last weekend after a quick search on craig’s list. Natalie and I signed a lease on a two bedroom, two-bathroom (this was an essential amenity according to Natalie) apartment in the Capitol Hill area of Seattle. I am doing Audio/Video installation work again in order to pay the bills and let me adjust to the Pacific Northwest scene. I ride my bicycle to work. Near misses with local Seattle drivers while screaming down the hills of this town almost remind me of cruising through traffic in Phnom Penh. Life is different, but good.

———————-

My last entry written in steamy Bangkok – three months and an entirely different state of mind away – was an initial reaction to the notion (that I was just beginning to grasp) of heading back to life in America. Before I left home in June of 2004, I had spoke with many people and read a fair amount on ‘reverse culture shock’, what one experiences when they come back from being abroad for a lengthy period of time. I expected and kind of looked forward to a nice ‘shock’ upon returning to America. But the shock never came. Instead I found myself occasionally getting locked into deep cycles of mental anguish – usually lying in bed late at night unable to sleep – questioning the future and agonizing over the past. Call it a general funk.

I would think back and try to piece together what had really happened. Was it really two years? Where did the time go?

I assembled some of my better and/or personally significant pictures into a photo album. It took me a few weeks to organize and mount them. Is this what two years of living abroad produced? A neat photo album so friends, family, and strangers can politely peruse images of what “it was like”? I look over their shoulders and answer their questions about where the picture was taken, or tell a story about that moment. Now that I’m in a completely different reality, it seems like memories are being washed away like the banks of the Mekong come rainy season.

But then I think a little harder and I remember cruising down the highway staring out over the endless expanse of multi-hued-green, knee-high, rice patties… And floating down a Lao river in an inner tube during one of those fat-droplet cloudbursts, with massive jagged Limestone mountains rising up into the clouds next to me, nursing a lukewarm Beer Lao… And swimming naked under the stars…

A significant portion of the funk comes from seeing everything and everyone that was familiar, be just as familiar. After seeing some crazy shit for two years (although my definition of crazy changed quite drastically) I came home to see everything more or less the same. Kind of like the Chronicles of Narnia, when those British kids go hang out in fantasyland for years gaining unbelievable life experiences only to return back to dreary England to find that nothing had changed.

This travelblog was quite fun, and I feel that it was a great way to share my experiences with the world during my travels. Though once I became apart of the community in Phnom Penh, Motorbike Sir lost its steam. I feel like I let down you all, the faithful blog reader. I am starting to get the urge to rant and share my thoughts again, so I am starting up a new blog. I have not decided on a title or format as of yet. Check back soon for details.

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I spent last weekend down on the beach in Westport, WA, a fishing community on its way to becoming a vacation community with wide beaches, rolling dunes, and crashing surf. Some new friends and I enjoyed the stars, a roaring bonfire, and a few beers next to the pounding surf. I stood up and walked to the water’s edge and let the ice-cold waves wash over my feet. I took a long pull off my can of Miller High Life and looked up at the stars. It was familiar. It was glorious. The funk lifted.

Neil

I noticed this when I flew to Bangkok last time, but the landscape changes so quickly as you move from Cambodia to Thailand. The Cambodian countryside is dry and dusty, the roads narrow, bumpy and littered with plastic bags. Almost immediately upon entering Thailand, the roads are smooth, the landscape is green, and the bus drivers obey traffic laws. How can two countries be so different? I guess 30 odd years of civil war followed by corruption and greed have done little for the poor folks in the countryside.

I sit here in Bangkok and see the ‘progress’ that this country has made compared to Cambodia. Corruption and graft have prevented much needed irrigation, education, and health projects from moving forward in the countryside. Instead those in power buy new land cruisers, build ugly houses full of shiny marble, drink Johnny Walker Blue Label with ice and soda water, and insist on using Evian water for everything. But Bangkok is crowded, polluted, and vain consumerism has taken over all aspects of life. Alright I’m starting to rant … I will try to elaborate on this later.

The main purpose of this entry is to say that I’ve left Cambodia. I have no plans to return there anytime soon. I will be in Seattle on May 1st and will be in the region for my sister’s graduation and a friends’ wedding. I am not sure about my plans thereafter.

Leaving Cambodia was hard, much harder than I thought it would be. I have some great friends that I will miss greatly, not to mention the country and its people. I want to return someday, but I’m not sure when that will be.

Anyways, the future is uncertain. I am expecting a bit of a culture shock returning to the States after being in Asia for almost two years, and will let you know how that turns out.

In the interim, check out this article. It is about forests in Indonesia, but China is doing the same thing to Cambodia. They are financing and building roads and bridges all over the country that will improve access to Cambodia’s natural resources and increase the market penetration of their goods. China no longer cuts down their own trees, so they rely on other nations for their appetite for wood. Bastards.

Also check out Neil Young’s new album, which you can hear for free in its entirety here. Solid rock coupled with dead on political commentary. I am not too excited to be exposed to America’s bullshit political environment, but oh well.

Neil

Our first few days were spent exploring the city and gearing up for a bike trip. As they only had about 5 days, I decided that we could cruise north to the border temple of Preah Vihear, over to Along Veng (resting place of Pol Pot) and then down to Siem Reap to visit the temples of Angkor.

The morning that Natalie left town (back to dreary Tacoma and schoolwork) we headed out on the road. The tarmac up to Kampong Thom was initially congested but the three Cambodian traffic rookies handled it well. We arrived in time for lunch and prepared for our next stretch of road. The road from Kampong Thom to Tbeng Mean Chey has recently been graded, but it is still a gravel road. To me, this means that road conditions are sometimes suspect, and you have to watch out for anything.

The being the dry season, we were soon coated in red dust as we ticked off kilometers. As I was crossing a bridge, I saw some Cambodians in a car suddenly get all excited and start pointing their fingers back behind me. I turned around and saw that Don had gone down. As he came to the bridge, he must have hit the front brake a bit hard and had the front wheel skid out on him. He had some deep gashes to his left knee and elbow, but said he was OK. I poured some water over them and wrapped a couple of scarves around the wounds and we headed back down the road.

A short while later, Norm and I were coming up to a wooden bridge. As we started to make our way across, both of us saw a large hole right in the path of his bike. Down he went. He had managed to keep the front wheel from falling down, but the rear end of the bike was lying on top of him as he hung precariously on the edge of the hole. We rushed over and pulled the bike off of him and hoisted him up. With minimal damage to Norm and the bike, we pushed on. After cruising through some landmine country, we arrived in Tbeng Mean Chey at dusk and settled into our hotel rooms and started tending to injuries.

I walked down the main street to find some iodine and bandages. At the first pharmacy/clinic I walked in to I was met by a cross-eyed woman assuring me that there was no doctor or medical supplies. All around the room were beds full of old people hooked up to IVs, each moaning and groaning in the darkness. The woman didn’t have to tell me twice, as I made a quick about-face and headed back down the street to find a more reputable medical establishment. I found what I was looking for and went back to the hotel to clean up Don’s wounds. After a delicious meal of provincial Khmer cuisine we hit the sheets. I think everybody slept good that night.

The morning came quick. We had a quick discussion about what our plans should be. I recommended that we change our itinerary and head straight to Siem Reap in order to get Don’s gashes looked at. Everyone agreed. Our new route was still desirable as it took us past two spectacular temple complexes, Koh Ker and Boeng Mealea. Herewe are at the top of the pyramid temple of Koh Ker. Here is Don in good spirits despite his injuries. Here is a common billboard seen around the countryside.

The road down was a bit more fun (I’m not sure if Don and Bernie looked at it that way), but we made it two Siem Reap that evening with only two more crashes. Don went over the handlebars and Bernie pulled a similar maneuver to Don’s and locked up the front brake while coming to a stop. Back in civilization (compared to where we just were), we had some dinner and drinks next to hundreds of those “soft” tourists who took the easy way up to Siem Reap. If only they knew the pain and suffering it took to get us there.

The next morning I took Don to a Thai medical clinic where he got his wounds properly cleaned and his elbow stitched up. The process was fairly interesting for me and from the looks of it fairly painful for Don. With bandages and painkillers we hired out a car to go explore the temples. We managed to see Ta Prom, Ta Som, Preah Kahn, Angkor Thom and the Bayon, and Angkor Wat. It was another exhausting day, but well worth it.

We left Siem Reap the next day around noon, deciding to split the drive back to Phnom Penh in half by stopping in Kampong Thom for the night. It also allowed us to go check out some the ruins at Sambor, a temple site that predates Angkor Wat by some six centuries. It was interesting to see the continuity in the architecture and bas relief carvings between the two sites.

We made it back to Phnom Penh in the afternoon after dodging Land Cruisers and tour buses on National Road 6 coming into town. We returned the rented bikes to the shop where everyone had to pay a bit extra for damaged parts, bent handlebars, and scratched paint.

The next night we had a small going away celebration at Pancho Villa Cafe. Lots of friends showed up to partake in the festivities. Though the Dharma Bums visit was short, I think they got a good taste of Cambodia.

Stork (or Ibis?)
Freshwater Crocodile
Asiatic Sun Bear
Python or Cobra? (watch out mom!)
Leopard
Asian Tiger

A few days later we took the bus up to Siem Reap. Natalie was fed up with moto taxi drivers so we decided to rent bicycles to explore the temples. I was wary about peddling all day under the hot Cambodian sun but it was actually a very pleasant way to see the temples of Angkor.

Tree
Terrace at Angkor Wat
Nat being a big nerd
Where am I?
Hallway
A tree at Preah Kahn about to be cut down
Siblings
Natalie with monk

By the end of the day I was tired and dehydrated (40+km will do that to you I guess) but it was a good time. Definitely the most exercise I’ve had in a while.

When we got back to Phnom Penh, I gave Natalie a driving lesson. It took her a bit to get comfortable with the clutch (especially starting out) and she had problems with the kick-start (work on those leg muscles!) but in the end, she was driving me around Chroy Changvar with ease. Here she is posing on my bike. I recently upgraded to a newer (and faster) Honda XR 250.

Random pic of the day: Kids on chairs on bike

I had this great idea that Natalie and I should go hang out in Kep for a few days after the big party up at Bokor. We hopped on some motos in Kampot and headed down the road to Kep. The problem was that a number of other people had the same idea. When we arrived in Kep, we found that all of the good guesthouses were full. We decided to take a boat out to Koh Tonsay (Rabbit Island – why it is called this is a mystery, as there are no rabbits on the island, nor is the island shaped like a rabbit) where there was a free bungalow. The inhabitants of Rabbit Island are mostly fishermen, though some enterprising locals have set up some basic bungalows and tents for guests to sleep in. There is a decent sandy beach for swimming and plenty of space to relax. After crashing hard in a hammock in the afternoon (it was new year’s day – remember I didn’t sleep the night before) I woke up to a gorgeous sunset. That night Nat and I shared some fresh prawns at the local shack.

The next day Nat and I went on a walking expedition around the island. We came across some utterly deserted beaches, herds of cows, and lone fishermen. The trek was quite a challenge in my $1 central market flip flops as we had to occasionally scamper over jagged rocks and wade through the surf. It was good fun though.

The family who was running the bungalows had an enormous pet pig that was quite entertaining. It spent most of the day sleeping under the tables in the restaurant / shop / shack.

The previous evening we shared a lumpy bed under a mosquito net without a fan. I slept fine (I think after traveling around Asia, sleeping in strange places has given me quite impressive sleeping abilities – I can fall asleep almost anywhere) but Nat complained about the 1/2 star accommodation. We decided to take the boat back to Kep for some comfy beds.

Every time I go down to the Kampot/Kep/Bokor area I like it more and more. The province is blessed with amazing scenery, delicious food, and a chilled out atmosphere. Here is a shot of Phu Quc island in the distance on our boat ride back to the mainland.

We spent the next night and day exploring Kep (this doesn’t take long to do) then headed back to Phnom Penh.

December 30th was a busy day. I woke up relatively early with the intention of meeting Leif at the airport. His flight was to get in at 8 am, and I thought that a few snooze intervals on the alarm clock wouldn’t hurt, in fact they were probably helping me ease into the bright morning after the late night before. Before I knew it, it was 8:45. I hopped on my bike and tore out towards Pochentong International Airport. I was still a few kilometers from Pochentong when I spotted Leif, (his shaggy blond hair was unmistakable) on a moto heading in towards town. I busted a “Uey” and quickly caught up to him and his Dan. We exchanged some brief greetings and then drove back into town to the hotel.

Leif has been the first of my Minnesota crew to visit me, and it was great to see him after a year and a half. He is currently working for the JET program, a program sponsored by the Japanese government to bring English teachers to cities around the country in order to expose their sheltered population to foreigners. From what I hear they make some decent cash, plus they live in utopian Japan. That day I gave them a bit of a tour around town. We swung by the Russian Market to grab some warm clothes, blankets and flashlights (they call them torches over here). These supplies would be vital to our expedition – New Years rally to Bokor round 2.

If you recall from my entry about last year’s party, there were some mechanical incidents which delayed our arrival. This year, dirt bikes weren’t an option as we had a large crew that wanted to go – Barb, Ash, Katy, Katy’s mom, Zach, Brandon, Leif, Dan, Natalie, and Me. For this we would need a truck. I headed down to Damko market to arrange a Nissan (they call all pickup trucks Nissans, as most of them are Nissan diesels). These are not your ordinary pickups. They are smaller and have a cage in the bed with a roof and benches to accommodate as many people as you can squeeze into and on top of the truck. I bargained hard for the driver to meet us at 7 am take us down to Kampot and then up the mountain to Bokor, then back the next morning. We agreed on $120 round trip.

The next morning the motley crew assembled at my place, bushy tailed and bright eyed (not really, they all looked like they could use about 3 more hours of sleep). As we headed down the road, it was interesting to see those not accustomed to Cambodian traffic react to the situation. I thought that I might be able to snag a few hours of sleep on the way down, but the truck was too uncomfortable to even attempt it.

We stopped for lunch at my buddy Kristian’s restaurant on the riverside in Kampot, the Rusty Keyhole. I threw down a hearty hamburger and basked in the warm sunshine. It was now time for the more arduous segment of our journey, the road up the mountain. It is only 42 kilometers, but the road is in poor condition (that’s being nice), in addition to having to contend with other vehicles going up and down the mountain. Our Nissan didn’t have much in the form of suspension, Ash chose the rooftop, the ladies were given the cab, and the rest of us took turns hanging off the tailgate standing up. As the Nissan grinded up the hill and the hours wore on, I saw despair sinking into the faces of my compatriots. I was the only one who had been up Bokor before, and knew that the rough journey was a small price to pay for the reward at the top. Finally, after 2 ½ hours, we emerged onto the plateau and the Casino came into view. I think I saw people’s eyes light up a bit (it could have been just wishful thinking) but at least we had made it.

We pulled up to the casino. Many Cambodians had made the journey (like last year) and were in the process of barbequing and slamming back beers. We set up camp with my buddy Chea, who had brought a few tents and set about exploring the joint.

I took a nap shortly after sunset. When I woke up, I found the rest of the crew. Leif was getting into a bottle of Muscle Wine, I joined in with some whiskey. A short while later, Leif and Zach decided to take a walk around the place. They disappeared for maybe an hour. When they came back, Leif was telling me about how he had eaten some crab with some locals and that his stomach was starting to hurt. I advised him to “pull the trigger”, as I reasoned that it was best to get bad stuff out of your system as soon as possible. He disappeared again, only to reemerge hours later. Apparently he had passed out somewhere out in the grass, then woken up to a couple sitting on a wall near him. When he woke up, he threw up and startled the couple. I would have paid good money to see that. I think after that he came back and tried to join in the festivities, but failed. My buddy Charles who was sleeping in the tent around 12:30 saw him stumble in and pass out cold. At least he made it to midnight.

Throughout the night, Cambodians were lighting off fireworks and shooting guns in the air (handguns and AKs). At first it made me a bit nervous but I gradually got used to it. Seeing the trailers from the bullets as they shot off into the distance was kind of neat to watch. The next morning I found out that two people had been shot dead, one of Hun Sen’s bodyguards and a policeman. I also found out later that they were both friends of my mechanic. Drunken gunplay never turns out good.

As for the party, I had a great time. The music was decent and most of my friends made it. I think my sister had fun too (though she went to bed around 1 or 2). Brandon, Katy, and I made it until the morning and watched the sun ease up over the jungle, slowly clearing away the morning mist to reveal Phu Quc (a Vietnamese island just off the coast), salt plantations, and the coastline.

The ride down the mountain was much more painless, probably due to the fact that I was passed out on the floor of the bed for most of the way. Once in Kampot we had breakfast at Blissful Guesthouse. My sister and I parted with the rest of the gang, we headed down to Kep and rabbit islandfor a few days of relaxation. The Nissan and its eight party-goers went back to Phnom Penh. They had another 2 ½ hours of truck time. Ouch.

It was great to see Leif (check out his blog here), another reminder of friends from back home. Hope to see you all in 2006.

I felt that Natalie needed to experience Chiva’s Shack, plus I promised Mama that my sister would be coming down soon. Natalie immediately began working on her skin cancer; I started hitting the sauce with Papa.

Mama has her two children Chiva and his sister, Kaya studying overtime on their French, Japanese and English as Kaya is going to start going to high school in Spain. So they were pretty busy. The three of them are heading off to Paris this summer, and then to Madrid to get Kaya all settled in. It will be the first time for all of them out of the country (Papa will hold down the fort while they are away). It will be a great experience for all of them; I just wish I could go along to see their reaction as they visit those great European cities for the first time.

Papa’s English has improved a lot since I first met him, but he still isn’t the most confident speaker. He has become much more involved with the guests as his duty as night manager encourages him to be social during peak drinking hours. If you are a friend of Papa, he will force buckets of Mekong Whiskey and Coke on you all night long. He is also a crafty pool player, turning into quite the shark once he gets a few buckets himself. As we played a few games (buckets being the wager of course) he got funnier and funnier. “Oh La La!” he would shout (in his Cambodian accent) when he pocketed a ball, reeling back with his bucket in hand at the same time letting out his booming laughter. When he wasn’t playing, he would drag various girls to the dance floor (using just the right amount of force/coercion) and try and hook them up with guys around the bar.

If he wasn’t satisfied with customers efforts to get out there and shake it, he went over to the microphone hooked up to the stereo and tried his MC skills. “Ok everybody stand up dancing, eat drink eat drink happy dancing NOW! Get up, Stand up for your right!”

A few days on the beach was just what the doctor ordered for Natalie’s pasty skin. I had a great time drinking with Papa, I think Nat got a kick out of him too. We headed back up to Phnom Penh to prepare for New Years. Oh La La!

I hope everyone had a great new year’s – mine was wild. I’ll get to that later. Let’s recap a bit first though.

After 13 months of Cambodian living, I finally made it out of the country by flying to Bangkok to meet my sister, Natalie.

My first impressions of Bangkok (after not seeing the place for a while) were mixed. What are these superhighways? Why are we sitting in traffic? Is that a McDonalds? Is that a Taxi? I guess the place wasn’t that shocking, I mean its not like I’ve been living out in the jungle or something, but it was weird to see a place that had its shit together. I could notice when we had left Cambodia and were over Thailand from the plane. The countryside in Thailand had irrigation canals, paved roads, and massive fruit plantations. A sharp contrast to the varying shades of brown that have taken over the rice paddies in Cambodia now that it’s the dry season. It is very easy to see how in 5 or 10 years, Cambodia will be much more like Thailand, the same patterns of development are happening right now.

Is that a good thing? Depends on who you ask. Natalie and I were about to walk into Pantip Plaza – a massive 5 story electronics emporium in downtown Bangkok – when we ran into my friends Andrea and Minh from the Flying Elephant back in Phnom Penh on the front steps. Andrea was in the process of taking Minh, her Cambodian business partner (who has never been out of Cambodia) to visit her home in Australia. Minh had been on his first flight that morning and was killing 12 hours before continuing his journey to Oz. His eyes were wide open and he had a constant stare of amazement. I asked him how he liked Bangkok. He said, “It’s incredible.”

I suppose I find Bangkok pretty incredible, but the hyper-consumerism, pollution, and traffic are a bit too much for me. Cambodians are experiencing the beginnings of capitalism Asian style. It won’t be long before Phnom Penh feels a lot less like Cambodia and a lot more like any other global metropolis. That will be good for a lot of Cambodians, they will have access to better education, better jobs, and experience higher living standards…ah the fruits of capitalism. But I fear many tourists who will come experience a sleepy Southeast Asian capital will find a pulsating concrete and neon urban center. You hear stories about what some of the big cities in Asia used to be like – Bangkok, Singapore, Saigon . . . today they bear only a faint resemblance to what they once looked like.

I flew into Bangkok a day early. In Bangkok you meet people who are either fresh off the plane or are ending their trip. That night I hung out with some “fresh meat” so to speak. A group of about 6 people wanted to go check out Chinatown at night. I said why not, and hopped in the cab with them. After about 5 minutes of driving, an American was convinced that we weren’t going the right way. I told him to calm down, that the driver knew where we wanted to go. He continued to freak out, not believing that we could possibly be going in the right direction. As if he knew the streets of Bangkok – that place is like a maze… we made it to Chinatown no problems, then he said that it wasn’t the right place, so instead of walking around looking for the place, we hopped in the cab again and headed off to the Patpong night bazaar. Patpong was lame as usual, and I wasn’t in the mood for amateur traveler night in Bangkok, so I ditched that crew and headed back to my guesthouse. Have I turned into a travel snob?

Enough ranting… So I met Natalie at the airport. She looked a bit frazzled from the flight. She also was taller than I remembered. It’s weird seeing someone after a year and a half. You stare at each other in amazement for about 10 seconds, then everything is back to normal.

The next few days were great. Nat seemed to really be enjoying Bangkok, we checked out some of sights including the Royal Palace, Reclining Buddha, Chinatown, and Khao Sahn Road. She was eager to eat street food, one of Bangkok’s best features. I made sure to get a serious fix of Thai food, something that I miss while living in Phnom Penh. We went to the VIP movie theater in the MBK shopping mall. We watched King Kong in giant lazy boys in a real movie theater (something I also haven’t done in 13 months). Unfortunately the movie was mediocre (it’s King Kong, not a three hour epic) and the Thais love their A/C a bit too much; by the end of the movie I was freezing. I guess I don’t really miss the movie theater that much.

We did some shopping, sent some packages and just explored the city. One thing about Bangkok is the pollution. After three days in town my throat was sore from breathing in all that smog. From being there over a year ago, I thought I really liked the city. But other than the food, all I can handle is a couple of days.

We hopped a flight back to Phnom Penh on the 23rd. Natalie was eager to hit the beach but I wanted to be back in town for Christmas. I told her not to worry, we would be on the beach and she could add some color to that Tacoma winter paleness she had going on soon enough…

To be continued, with pictures.

Neil

PS I didn’t make it to McDonalds, 14 months without a shitty burger and still going strong! Super-Size this corporate assholes!

What is happening?
How did this happen?
Why is this happening?
Why did this happen?

Those four questions have been shooting around my head for the past twelve hours. Here is an account of what happened. Keep in mind that I have had only a few hours of sleep followed by a few beers.

A couple of days ago, my good friend Juan found out that his mother had only a short time to live. Juan dealt with this news in Juan’s way, by heading out to the bar and getting plastered. Unfortunately he chose to drive his motorcycle. The next morning he woke up in the local hospital (a grim place from many accounts) with significant abrasions on his legs, a concussion, and a possible broken rib. He was discharged from the hospital and went back to his bar, the Lazy Gecko, and numbed his pain with Dicoden.

Juan and Pooja’s brother are best friends, so Juan is ore or less a big brother to Pooja, and the two have known each other for years. Pooja went in and saw that he was a mess, but due to Juan’s stubbornness and a lack of forcefulness on our part, he did not go to a ospital or clinic. Last night at around 11 pm, Omry (who has been taking care of him) told us that he wanted to get Juan evacuated to Bangkok in the morning. Pooja and I went home and had an ominous discussion about past experiences involving Juan.

My life I would say has been pretty easy compared with a lot of people. I grew up in a middle-class household, attended a top-notch university, and haven’t experienced significant anguish in my days. When I look around at the local population here in Phnom Penh, this notion resonates even more. I am not an Atjai person (someone who digs in trash piles looking for recyclables) or a landmine-maimed amputee begging on the street. I have also not had to see my spouse and 13 of my family members die because of the brutal Khmer Rouge regime, as one of my students has. I have also never gone hungry, as millions do every day around the globe. No my life has been relatively drama-free, and I consider myself to be fortunate. But life is life, and so is death.

I went to bed because I was planning on waking up early. Pooja woke me up a few hours later urging me to get up and to go to the Gecko now. I eventually realized what was happening and hopped on a moto. I knew in the back of my mind what had already happened.

My moto stopped in front of the Gecko, occupied by a dozen police officers and the local staff. I walked past everyone up the stairs. James approached me and said “Juan is dead”. I saw him laying there in his bed, with Omry above him trying to check for a pulse. Things turned surreal. I went into shock and sat down on the floor next to Pooja. All she kept saying was that Juan hadn’t played her song yet, so he couldn’t leave her yet. Omry continued to do what he could do, I moved in to try and help.

We tried to perform CPR (though none of us were too knowledgeable in this) and manipulate him so that the liquid in his throat would drain. Manipulating him on the bed was unexplainable. This thing I was manipulating looked like Juan, it felt like Juan, but somehow it wasn’t. I kept expecting him to wake up, to smile, to do something. Before I got there, a Khmer doctor had already declared him dead. But we didn’t give up hope, so we carried his body downstairs (to the strong objections of the local police) and hailed a car to take him to the SOS clinic (western run evacuation clinic). From my basic wilderness first-aid course I took before senior year of college, I remembered my instructor telling us that rarely can people be revived after 30 minutes. At this point he must have been without pulse for nearly two hours. But there is no harm in trying, right? Maybe I have seen a few too many movies and TV shows where once they shock the patient with a deliberator and give them a shot of adrenaline, they come back to life.

I think that is the first time that I have been in shock. Something I have never experienced before. I didn’t like it. Its almost like a dream you expect to end, then doesn’t. I sat on the steps outside the clinic, underneath a cool December full moon and stared at the side of the SOS van. The SOS logo looks a lot like the AT&T logo I thought.

But carrying his lifeless body down the stairs… man that was weird. I almost thought he was just passed out after a heavy night of boozing. We are not sure of the exact cause of death. The embassy is contacting Juan’s sister (next of kin) who can authorize an autopsy. We suspect that he had significant internal bleeding and/or suffered from a brain hemorrhage. We will see, but any knowledge is of little use now. Calmette Hospital, where he was initially taken, obviously didn’t do a thorough enough exam. This just reinforces the perception of the local hospitals. If you are seriously injured in a place like Cambodia, fuck it and go straight to Bangkok where hospitals of international standards exist.

What to do now? Well the business of sorting out everything will most likely be dramatic, confusing, and painful. Hopefully the ideal situation of the Gecko resuming business with a portion or all of the profits going to the JCA orphanage will happen.

I don’t want to get to deep into the discussion of possibilities and what ifs. The point is that he is gone. This is the first time that I have had to deal with death in such a manner. My grandmother died about 5 years ago, but she died of cancer. My second cousin Jimmy died about two years ago. He was the same age as me, though I had only seen him at a couple family reunions over my lifetime. His departure was sudden and tragic, but I wouldn’t say that I was close to him or really knew him. At that time, I remember my grandfather saying something along the lines of “this really sucks”. Well this really sucks too. I am not sure how else to put it.

I have known Juan since I arrived in Cambodia. Though the two of us never became close, we were friends and saw each other on an almost daily basis. At only 30 years old, he was still in the prime of his life. Again I still can’t believe that this all just happened.

By writing this, I am not looking for sympathy. It is just something that I needed to do. I apologize for the depressing story. On Tuesday I will meet my sister in Bangkok. It will be the first time that I have seen her in 1 1/2 years. I am really looking forward to it.

Merry Christmas everyone, and I hope your holiday season is filled with joy. Best wishes for the New Year. Hope to see you all soon.

Love,
Neil

PS. Whenever we hung out at the Rock and Roll bar, Juan would always request “Cortez the Killer” by Neil Young. I think he liked it because he was originally from El Salvador. Or maybe he just liked the song. Here are the lyrics for those of you unfamiliar with the tune.
“Cortez The Killer”

He came dancing across the water
With his galleons and guns
Looking for the new world
In that palace in the sun.

On the shore lay Montezuma
With his coca leaves and pearls
In his halls he often wondered
With the secrets of the worlds.

And his subjects
gathered ’round him
Like the leaves around a tree
In their clothes of many colors
For the angry gods to see.

And the women all were beautiful
And the men stood
straight and strong
They offered life in sacrifice
So that others could go on.

Hate was just a legend
And war was never known
The people worked together
And they lifted many stones.

They carried them
to the flatlands
And they died along the way
But they built up
with their bare hands
What we still can’t do today.

And I know she’s living there
And she loves me to this day
I still can’t remember when
Or how I lost my way.

He came dancing across the water
Cortez, Cortez
What a killer.

Saturday morning I woke up with a moderate hangover from Halloween festivities of the previous evening. There was a party at James’ new pad. I came in a decent costume of a Cyclo driver, though I was pretty disappointed at the lack of costumes from other attendees. After a bacon and egg baguette from Mama’s, we headed out. A flat rear tire on my bike delayed us for an hour and a half as some locals tried to repair my tube three different times.

We made our way southward, enjoying ourselves thoroughly along the dilapidated road. It eventually degenerated into a shallow stream, which normally does not pose a problem for dirt bikes. At around 5:00 or so, we were cruising along the road/stream when Dave and his RMX fell into the water. He quickly pulled it up and we began checking it out for signs that water had gotten into the air box and carburettor. Both appeared fairly dry as the usually contingent of locals emerged from he rice paddies to stare/laugh/point at two barangs and their misfortune.

After about 30 minutes of unsuccessful attempts to start the bike, darkness fell and we accepted a local farmer’s invitation to sleep at his house just up the road. As soon as we arrived, the games began. There are many variations on the staring game, such as “watch the barang get undressed” “watch the barang take a shower”, and “watch the barang sit.”

The matriarch of the family cooked us up quite a feast for dinner. It was the most delicious meal I have ever had. Along with a pot of rice, there was a bowl full of two-inch fish cooked in some sort of rank fish sauce (for those of you unfamiliar with fish sauce, it is common to most Asian countries. It is made by grinding up fish and letting them ferment in barrels in the sun for a number of weeks). I ended up eating more bones than meat. The other dish was a mystery vegetable and other supposed edible ingredients sautéed into a repulsive slop. I ate a respectful spoonful and then moved back to the fish.

After dinner, the family was kind enough to provide us with a mosquito net and a pillow. Once we got all settled into our bed, the family played some more staring games until they grew tired and went to sleep. Aside from some dogs barking at the wind next to my ear around midnight, I slept pretty good.

We woke at dawn and were able to solve our bike problems in about an hour (some water had gotten into the wire leading to the spark plug). We said a grateful thanks and presented the family with a crisp $10 note for their troubles before leaving for Kampot.

A 3-egg omelette with all the fixin’s and a cup of coffee filled my stomach once we pulled into the Rusty Keyhole in Kampot. It more than made up for the previous evening’s meal. I basked in the morning sun overlooking the fishing boats making their way out to see with Bokor Mountain looming in the background. Kampot is one of the more picturesque towns in Cambodia, and it is especially gorgeous this time of year with the rice fields at their apex. Our stay was brief as we made our way over to Sihanoukville shortly before noon.

I spent a few days on the beach, at Chiva’s of course. Due to some unexpected business in Phnom Penh, Pooja couldn’t make it down to join us. After a few days of fun and sun, Tuesday rolled around and I geared up to head back home. I left at about 11:00 am for the usual 3 hour journey to the city. Everything was fine for the first 25 km when suddenly my bike died. Now over the past few weeks I have been having a number of problems and have made numerous repairs including: new piston rings, wheel bearings, drive shafts, gaskets, chains, sprockets, and cables. I am not sure whether I have just been unlucky or my bike is just getting too old (it is a ’93, and I have been riding it a lot).

So I let a local mechanic try to work some magic into my semi-reliable steed in his rudimentary shop. No one spoke English, but my Khmer was good enough to understand it was an electrical problem. A few locals were at the shop playing some chess (over some money of course) when all of a sudden the two players both grabbed the money pot and began arguing quite intensely over the winnings. It appeared the two were going to come to blows a number of times (including one instance where a hammer was raised, poised to strike a blow), but some other locals were able to calm the two parties down. I eventually gave up on the mechanic and resolved myself to finding some transport for myself and bike back to Phnom Penh.

I was hoping for a cargo pickup truck, but the residents assured me that my best bet would be a tourist vehicle. Sure enough, they were able to flag down an overloaded minibus willing to bring me home. They strapped my bike to the back and I climbed in next to (including the driver and his co-pilot) 22 other souls crammed in a vehicle probably rated for 10 people. The drive was miserable (I had no back rest) but was reasonable given the circumstances. I paid $12 for my bike and myself.

So I had a weekend of good fun riding tarnished by bad luck. At least I made it home without injury, and the whole experience has reinforced a few things that I have learned after living in Cambodia for a year.

1. It does no good to wig out, especially at locals. Often times you will be put in an unfortunate situation in which you have no control. Freaking out doesn’t solve anything. I have travelled on many vehicles in this part of the world, most have them have been uncomfortable. But in the end, you usually end up in the destination you meant to go. Sure it usually isn’t the most efficient means of transport, but it works.

2. Things won’t go your way many times in this country. Just when you begin to lose all hope, something will come along that can resolve the problem for a minimal amount of money. Many times I have thought “shit, I am stuck” only to see an opportunistic local round the corner with a solution.

3. Patience. Cambodia can be one frustrating country, but I am a foreigner and choose to live here. Getting stuck, break-downs, and bad food are all apart of the experience and make a semi-decent story afterwards. Look on the bright side and know that it will all be over soon… well eventually.

———-

PS Sorry, but I didn’t take any pictures of these events. Hopefully my words are enough to give you a mental picture.