Honey Roasted T-Shirts

Date: Sat, 9 Sep 2000 10:14:23 -0700 (PDT)

From: Jay Schneider

Subject: Where in the world is…?

Well, folks, here it is another installment (the third?) in the continuing adventures of Jay (me), and his (my) ongoing attempt to impress everyone (you) with his (my) ability to make goofing-off and delaying re-entry into the real world sound like amazing and important stuff…

English version…

So I’ve survived Cambodia, and with a quick check, all limbs are still accounted for and no symptoms of malaria are present. I think it’s safe to say things’ll be okay (though I hear hepatitis has a 3-week incubation period, so we’ll have to see about that…).

My final two days in Cambodia were spent in the seaside town of Sihanoukville, which in addition to being a new view of Cambodia, would also be my exit point for my trip back into Thailand. While in no way rivaling those of its neighboring countries, the beaches were pleasant, and filled with the locals, escaping from the capital for the weekend. In spite of the occassional rain (several storms had just passed through), I enjoyed myself at the beach, and was able to prove the effectiveness of my sunscreen–by later discovering the areas I failed to cover. (don’t laugh at the strange pattern on my back…) Wandered around some markets, did some reading, and, though tempted by the nearby go-kart track, decided I was content with my time not only in Sihanoukville, but Cambodia as well. It was time to move on. (My visa, expiring the next day, was in agreement with this.)

And move on I did, with another memorable border crossing. The first boat (which had been cancelled in previous days due to storms in the Gulf of Thailand), was similar to the one I rode from the Ankgor Temples to the capitol. It looks like a mini-Boeing 747 with the wings chopped off.  Though in my past trip’s ticket included a seat number, I didn’t make use of it, preferring to sit atop the vessel, enjoying the view, the air and the sun (for those of you who’ve been paying attention to previous updates will be happy to know my legs have returned to a natural color). This also allowed for easy escape if the need to abandon ship arose. That’s not to say the cramped quarters of these well-used and well-worn Malaysian-made craft don’t inspire confidence in the average passenger…well, perhaps that is what I’d like to say. At any rate, due to stormy and wet weather conditions, all passengers had to sit below deck. You can imagine how I was the envy of the ship, sitting next to one of the few emergency windows. I contemplated half-unscrewing the release bolts–just in case…

A few hours later, I jumped ship (by means of the usual route, not the escape hatch), with other border-crossers, to make the final leg of my trip to the border. After a quick check-in with immigration police, I hopped into a small motor boat with a Canadian, two Israelis, a Brit and two Thais, for a 40 minute ride through the mangroves. We zipped along, bouncing higher and higher with each wave we hit, and I remembered racing around Catalina Island in my cousin’s dinghy when I was younger(I had more confidence in my cousin’s skippering ability, and at the time he was a teenager). My worries about our packs bouncing overboard (okay, MY pack, at the TOP of the heap, being bounced overboard), were quickly put to rest as the bags settled down, mostly on top of the poor Israelis who thought the fron seat would provide a good view. I apologized for their inconvenience, but they were quite happy for the protection my bag gave them from the sea water which splashed in at each bump. Besides, the weight of my pack kept THEM anchored in as well.  When we hit the open waters of the gulf, we thought perhaps the driver misunderstood us, and was going to take us all the way to Bangkok. Then we regained sight of land, and made way for the shore ahead. We were dumped off at a non-descript, muddy little shore, and there was a bit of confusion as to where we were. I was convinced we must be near the border, and finally spotted a flag of Thailand in the distance. Between us and that point, however, was a barbed-wire fence. At one end, a gate and a road, at the other a muddy path leading to a whole in the fence. Not sure which direction to go, I figured, guards, fencing and land mines would generally keep me on the right path (I’m kidding about the land-mines, I’d rather be nicely pointed in the right direction then losing a leg to figure out I went the wrong way)., and headed for the road. Someone in a uniform (where did he come from?) started yelling “No, No!” and pointed toward the hole in the fence. (See, I knew something would cue me in the right direction.) Walk on the board over the ditch, through the fence, past the “Immigration Police” shack filled with men totally uninterested in us immigrants, muddy stretch, gravel field, ah! at last a proper structure (filled with officials and everything), to stamp my passport and official bid me farewell. As the border guard returned my passport, a tear welled in my eye. And, I’m pretty sure moments after I stepped away from the window, I saw the official wipe discretely wipe a tear away from his own eyes. No “tip” from this parting foreigner…

Back in Thailand, the infrastructure shock overwhelmed me. Paved roads, cities, lights, surely this is the most advanced and wonderful country on the face of the earth! (It’s amazing what context and perspective can do to one’s perception of things). Had to move fast because I wanted to get to Bangkok that night. Mini-van to city of Trat. Bus station. Run on to the last bus for the evening. Run off last bus for the evening (nature called). Get very upset at the guy who’s taking such a long time in the bathroom while I’m jumping around outside. See the bus pulling away. Run to the bus, back on the bus, thanking the unknown soul who by taking so much time in the toilet, allowed me to be re-united with my backpack on the bus. I settled down for the 5-6 hour bus ride to Bangkok.

Many questions raced through my mind as I slowly rode away from the country which had taken me in, and shown me so much hospitality during the past month: how had my time in Cambodia affected me as a person? Would I ever make it back there again? will I be able to use a restroom between here and Bangkok?

For answers to these and other questions, be on the look out for the next installment of “the perpetually-changing-titled adventures of Jay”…

Date: Fri, 25 Aug 2000 03:23:56 -0700 (PDT)

From: Jay Schneider

Subject: still in Cambodia…(but not for long)

Another installment in my continuing Cambodian adventures. Once again, if you’re not a native English speaker, I’m sorry. If you’re not interested, too bad. And if you’re not sure who I am, then perhaps you shouldn’t be reading this…

After a teary-eyed good-bye (rather silly, because the girls were asleep, and the Scottish couple were in another room, so I was the only one awake to say good-bye to), I parted with my Angkor travel buddies and set off alone for Phnom Penh. (Okay, the British couple was with me, so that whole setting off “alone” thing was bunk). We had decided to take the boat, while the others chose to further abuse themselves with another pick-up truck ride.

The boat trip was nice, though I highly recommend not falling asleep without sun protection on your super-white legs which then become purple (with capital “P” for pain!) for about a week. I was unexpectedly greeted at the dock by a man holding a sign with my name on it, and identifying himself as” assistant to His Excellency Son Soubert.” (not to be confused with one of his three “drivers,” which apparently is the Khmer word for “bodyguard”).

Jumping to the present, I’ve just finished my 3-weeks of volunteering, and am in a far better position to explain my set-up (things were a little vague in the description of the work camp.)

Son Soubert is the son of Son Sann, former Prime Minister of Cambodia, and major political bigwig. Son Soubert, though not as politically great as his father (political small-wig?), was vice-president for a spell, but now is content to sit on the constitutional committee. He’s also a professor of archaeology, and currently teaches at a University in Phnom Penh.

A handful of years back, when the refugees started returning from Thailand, they were all promised land for their homes. The Son Soubert and his father, knowing this may not happen, privately purchased some land for the returning refugees. Only a few families took them up on their offer. Then the United Nations told them about the large number of orphans living on the streets, and the father-son duo created the “Peaceful Children’s Home at Sre Ampil (30 km SE of P.P.)” They also built some other centers in the country, but this was the one I worked at.

Initially, the Sons funded the center entirely with their salary from parliament, but this was not enough to cover the growing need. Several individuals and organizations from around the world have made donations (kitchen, garage, clothing, money, etc.), but the main, on-going support is from a French organization called (in English, anyway) “Act for Cambodia.” This group gets sponsors for each child, last year build dormitories for the kids, and each year sends a group of French students to work in the summer. My organization (Volunteers for Peace), sends an international group of volunteers each summer as well.

What’d I do? Play with the kids, talk with the kids,live/eat/breathe/yada-yada with the kids. Taught Japanese classes, and some English conversation (though I graciously left a majority of the English classes to the American elementary school teacher who came. I was quite happy to not teach English, actually.) We worked on the farm. We worked to build what will one day be a farm and gardens so the center can be self-supporting (currently they receive aid from International food organizations). We (okay, it was just the Dutch guy) set up a solar refrigerator. We painted the classrooms, we painted the dining room. We painted the storage room which meant scrubbing the dirt grime and old paint off the walls, which meant moving those 55 kg bags of rice, which meant disrupting the lives of the poor 15-20 mice happily living under the rice. We laughed as the mice whizzed past our feet, and the dogs came in to chase them knocking over the paint cans. We laughed as the poor geckos tried to climb up the wall, but since it’d been recently scrubbed, was too dusty to get a grip, and they’d fall down, often on the French girl’s head. I laughed as I realized somehow all the kids had taken all the paintbrushes, and I was left with the all-important job of saying “missed a spot.” The village kids laughed when Jean and I had to push start a very old, very used motorcycle. Jean, a large man at the wheel, and me, a smaller man wearing flip-flops. (we got it on the 5th try, the village kids cheered!) We rode three on a moto, to and from the nearest market, the “from” being interesting as we balance paint, lumber and other supplies. We slipped in the mud in the final week which reminded me it’s still technically the rainy season. I also learned that the mud can steal your flip-flops, but that doesn’t really matter, ’cause barefoot in the mud is so, so cool.

We did a lot. it was great. more stories to tell in the future, I’m sure.

The kids? Incredible. There are 117 kids, ages 5 – 19. The center tries to support kids throughout their education, and currently, 5 are at University in Thailand. The older kids help take care of the younger, they often teach extra lessons, and make major decisions about the running of the center. As Son Soubert explained, most Cambodians, after years of the Khmer Rouge and the Vietnam occupation, are not used to self-determination and democracy. He hopes to teach the children how they can help themselves, and in the future, help Cambodia.

The kids were very eager to practice English, and many wanted to learn Japanese (the classroom was full, everyday, with many students standing in the back). Never have I seen so many kids, so motivated to learn. Even the youngest kids would often sit in the classrooms, reading a book, or drawing pictures, seemingly happy just to be in an academic environment. I certainly have never seen such a demand for education an in the US or Japan. Unfortunately, the demand isn’t being sufficiently met. School is only half-day, so the teachers can work in the afternoons to support themselves. There are extra classes and private schools, but these cost money, and money is something most rural Cambodians don’t have to spare.

Anyhoo, I just left the center today, so I’m still a bit close to the situation, and my thoughts are kind of racing. 3 weeks seemed far too short, and went by too, too quickly. I wanted to stay, and felt I could do a lot more. But even though it was so short, I became very close with some of the kids, and I know I’ll have to try to pass through again, at least to visit, if not to volunteer again.

To tie up this, rambling, wandering, e-mail, it was an amazing 3 weeks, and definitely unforgettable experience.

What now? I’m in Phnom Penh for the night. I’m taking advantage of the big city to send out this e-mail (that’s why I’m hastily writing this), and then tomorrow heading south to the beaches. My visa expires Monday, and though I considered extending it to travel around a bit to some places that other travelers have recommended, I realized that I don’t think there’s anything that’s going to top what I’ve just seen and done. So, I’m heading south to make my graceful departure. A lazy day to relax on the beach will be nice, but my main reason for going is to take the boat back toward Thailand, where I’ll make arrangements to get to my next volunteer work camp…

Destination: Nepal!

Date: Sat, 12 Aug 2000 22:09:46 -0700 (PDT)

From: Jay Schneider

Subject: Update from Jay 

so I played with a hand grenade today. Shot an AK-47, too, but the grenade was more significant for me. But I’ll get to all that in a bit… 

Another mass-mail to update you as to the whereabouts and goings-on of Jay.  For those of you who have no interest, or don’t know who I am, oops and apologies. For those of you who can’t read English, well, this is good studying for you, neh? 

On July 30, under a scorching late-morning sun, pack on my back, flip-flops on my feet, sweat in uncomfortable places, and dust everywhere, I crossed the Thai-Cambodian Border into Poipet. The border official in charge of stamping our passports seemed in no hurry to do so, and was quite content to chat away with friends and leave to make a phone call. His unhurried pace surprised me because in each passport was a 200 Baht bill, which he gracefully slipped into the desk drawer, and simple economics tells me that the faster you stamp the passports, the faster the money comes in. Aah, Cambodia is young in the ways of corruption…  Personally, I didn’t put any money in my passport and got through just the same.  For those of you screaming,  “Jay, you missed your chance to participate in the time-honored tradition of 3rd world bribery!”, fret not. Those who have no international health card to show have to pay 40 Baht. (Hey, it’s cheaper than actually getting the shots…)

Hot, dusty, uncomfortable, shady corruption–I loved every bit of it!

Waited with others for a pick-up truck to fill up, and we were off to Siem Reap. Atop a dozen packs, 8 of us sat/sprawled/held on for dear life as we began our journey on what at one time may have been a road. (There were 5 who paid more to sit inside the cab, but there’s no need to mention them).  The first 90 minutes were spent laughing (cause what else can ya do?) at the “pot-holes as large as our truck which each vehicle had to negotiate. With each “crater,” the mysterious hard, objects which somehow managed to find their way to the top of each pack, gouged into our legs, sides, and seats harder and harder. One man was nearly tossed from the truck on several occasions.  The novelty and absurdity and just plain outlandishness of our situation resulted in laughter and, at least on the surface, good spirits, among all.  Though patience was wearing thin at the thought of another 5-6 hours of it, so the meal stop was well-timed (oh yeah, there was something wrong with the axel). After a long wait (while the truck was checked) the mood was borderline bitter, but before boarding, we rearranged the packs and the remainder of the journey promised to be more enjoyable. As it happened, the “road” was better (that’s a relative term, mind you), we were more comfortable, and perhaps the Mekong Whiskey which some indulged in, helped make the trip pure fun. (Those suckers inside missed out.) We hardly minded the extra man who jumped aboard to share our already cramped space (really cool guy. Cambodian Archaeologist working to restore some temples.  He explained to us how this stretch of the road had recently been improved –I’d hate to have seen in before– where land mines had recently been found (that explains the large holes in the bridges), and how the road “security” people rarely robbed tourists anymore.)

The images of rural Cambodia are with me still, and as it grew dark (how would we avoid the holes in the bridges?), the moonless sky showed more stars than I have ever seen in my life.

A brilliant journey.

Nothing brings people closer together than shared misery, so I’ll tell you about the players, with whom I’d spend the next few days. Neil and Gillian — a Scottish Couple, traveling for a few months (Note: the ride to the border left at 6:30 in the morning. So there was constant reference to this time throughout the journey. Though my ear can usually adjust quickly to differing accents, it’s amazing how a thick Scottish accent can make “half-six” (6:30) sounds like “have sex”) Steve and Emma — English couple traveling for a year.  Sharon — Canadian student. Inna — Israeli girl, just started her travels. Taka — a 19-year-old Japanese kid who seemed very relieved when I spoke Japanese with him.

7 of us shared two rooms (Taka didn’t stay with us), which I thought was a great idea because I ended up with a bed to myself.

We spent 3 days seeing the temples of Angkor Wat, and I’m not going to go into too much detail, following my philosophy of “If you wanna know, you gotta go.” The temples and ruins were truly amazing, and while I haven’t seen the pyramids, the ruins in Greece, or any such wonders, Angkor Wat and the other temples just blew me away. I was touched on many levels. The sheer size and grandeur of something built so long ago. The carvings and art-work, and the detail of it all. And the Indy Jones in me who loved being able to explore overgrown ruins, in relative freedom and isolation.

One afternoon, we (the seven and our moto-drivers) rode up to a river in which there were numerous carvings. Then we hiked to a waterfall and swam about. We had water-fights with the drivers, and to watch them swim, play and swing from vines, they seemed to have even more fun than we did.  (Perhaps we should have charged them?)

Last word about Angkor Wat: I sat under the starry sky, and waited for the sun to rise from behind Angkor Wat. This is easily one of the most incredible moments I’ve experienced.

 to be continued…