More Sobering Moments: The Killing Fields

After visiting S-21 prison, the day was only half over.  A few miles from downtown Phnom Penh are the “Killing Fields”, where 17,000 prisoners and other suspected enemies of the Khmer Rouge were slaughtered.  Most were buried in mass graves, and bone fragments and teeth are still periodically uncovered.

The Khmer Rouge believed in killing the entire family, even the babies, so that the survivors could not come back for revenge.  Bullets were viewed as a valuable commodity, so sometimes executioners used farm implements, car axles, or anything else that would work.

Usually, though, people were just shot.  Speakers, powered by generators, were hung on trees at the execution sites, playing loud music in order to drown out the screams of the victims.  The audio tour gave a sample of what the victims likely heard before their deaths.  Traditional Cambodian music (the closest comparison is the Indian music that has a squeaky singer) combined with the steady rumble of a gas generator.  It was right out of a nightmare.

This Stupa (a Buddhist religious monument) houses the bones of about 9,000 of the victims.

The audio tour pointed out that it was acceptable for people to enter the Stupa (without shoes) and even to take pictures of the bones.  I thought picture taking would have been seen as disrespectful, but I supposed the curators’ intent was for the world to see what happened to prevent it from happening again.  So with a great deal of discomfort, I took a single picture of some skulls, and let me tell you, it is right out of a Halloween display.  They are just piled on top of each other, on a long shelf, not even protected by glass, close enough to touch.  The pile is about 4 feet in depth and 3-4 skulls high, with some askew, but most are facing you.

Though photos of the bones may be authorized by the keepers of the remains, my own standards of respect prevent me from posting one here.  Just to give you an idea of what it is like, here is a closer view of the Stupa.  You can see the rows of skulls.

Sobering Moments: S-21 Prison, Cambodia

In a mere 3 years and 8 months, the Khmer Rouge regime eradicated 3,000,000 of its own people.  Starting in “year zero” (1975) and led by “Brother Number 1” (the infamous Pol Pot), the regime sought to create a perfect world by returning power to the farmers and peasant class, referred to as the “old people”.  Naturally, this required systematic elimination of the “new people”, such as urbanites and intellectuals.  Anyone with a college degree or even glasses was considered an enemy of the regime.  The S-21 prison in Phnom Penh is where these and other alleged enemies were held and tortured until they confessed to their crimes.

Rule 6 is “While getting lashes or electrification, you must not cry at all”.

The prison structure is generally unchanged, and still includes the hanging post and leg irons.  Displays have been added that include piles of the victims’ clothing, skeletal remains and explicit photos of the torture victims, some still alive, some dead.

Although they are not graphic or gruesome like the torture photos, I found the most disturbing pictures were of the people as they entered the camp. For one thing, the prisoners’ numbers never got that high (around 320) and you see the same numbers repeating themselves, as people were cycled through the prison.

As sad as that is, what really got to me was the way everyone, and I mean everyone, looked directly into the camera.  Nobody was ever glancing a little to the side or up or down.  That just made the scene more vivid in my mind–some bastard with a gun (or other threatening means), making sure they stare into the lens, establishing total control from the very beginning.

They looked at the camera back then, and they look right at me now, as if to plead for help.  There is a simple part of my mind that can only see the image, but cannot process any more information.  It thinks it is looking at a real person in the present, and generates the urge to do something.  Then another part of my mind has to take over.  That is the part knows that it is much too late.

Food Wars: Hong Kong

The Eden Center in Falls Church (VA) is a shopping center dedicated to Vietnamese markets, restaurants and bars.  With one exception.  An exceptional exception.  A lone Chinese restaurant is hidden in one of the hallways that forms the inner maze of the Eden Center.  Apparently it is owned by a Chinese family who lived in Vietnam for a while.  I was brought there by Hong Kong native “Conrad”, who vouched for its authenticity.  In fact, he takes his parents there when they visit.

If it has a name, I do not know what it is (and I doubt anyone does).  If you go looking for it, it’s the place with ducks in the window and they serve tea in tall plastic cups (that’s the best I can describe it!).  And noodle soups are the specialty.

I took to the crowded alleyways of Hong Kong to see if “The Eden Center Place” (TECP) could compete with the offerings of the homeland.  Relying only on my own judgement, I found Mak’s Noodle. That’s right, Noodle.  Apparently, that’s what it is called, but you can’t know that until you go inside (at least I couldn’t).

As I have said before, I take pride in being able to find the best holes in the wall, and my instincts didn’t let me down this time.  Inside, there were newspaper clippings galore, heralding Mak’s as one of Hong Kong’s best budget restaurants.  The clippings reminded me of the annual “Cheap Eats” awards that appear in the Washingtonian magazine.  Several Eden Center restaurants are recipients of these awards, so the places appeared to be evenly matched on paper.  But the proof is in the food.

(You can see a “Hong Kong’s Best” article in the upper right)

Of all of the homeland vs. U.S. food competitions, this was the closest.  The winner–Mak’s, edging out TECP by the diameter of a noodle.  TECP is right up there with Mak’s in terms of flavor.  The wontons at Mak’s had a firmness that I have not encountered anywhere else, and that was the difference.  Not only was the wonton itself firm (does anyone know the Cantonese word for “al dente”?), but there were bamboo shoots (I think) in the stuffing that kept things from seeming soggy.

After rendering my verdict, I savored the broth and read the articles.  Not that I had any second thoughts, but some of the food critics said they loved Mak’s because the wontons had just a little extra hardness.

I haven’t seen Conrad in ten years, and I’m not sure if he even remembers me, but wherever he is I want to thank him.  He showed me a restaurant that was so good that I needed to go all the way to Hong Kong to find one that was better.  Just barely.

Hong Kong

This was a “walk around and take in the atmosphere” type of city.  Not a lot of specific attractions, but still a place with a lot of character.  I just wandered the busy streets, checked out the markets and ate the food.

The Pyramids & The Sphinx

(I’m backtracking with this post, I was there between Jordan and Africa)

There were a lot of news reports about trouble in Egypt, so originally I was not going to visit.  I kept meeting people who had just come from there, swearing it was safe and alleging that the reporters were just blowing things out of proportion.  So I decided to go for it.  They day before I arrived, violence erupted downtown and 24 people died in rioting.

That was definitely NOT a case of overzealous reporting, but it was too late to back out.  I figured the safest place to stay would be near the airport, so I found a hotel so close that I could see the control tower from my room.  I talked to some locals on the flight, and they reassured me that the pyramids were far enough from any trouble that I didn’t need to worry.

Some famous places are disappointing once you finally get to see them.  This was not one of them.  For one thing, I was taken by their sheer size (the Great Pyramid of Giza is 455′ high).

Mostly, though, it was the way the place transported me back in time.  It is still within the urban reaches of Cairo, but everything was so captivating that the noise of the traffic, the nearby buildings, and the concerns about political turmoil evaporated.  All I noticed was desert, blue sky, and of course, fantastic monuments.

Being Zen in Nepal

Back when this World Tour was in the “I hope I get to do it” stage, there was one place that I really wanted to experience.  Nepal.  It had the ring of a mystical place, inconceivably far away.  A Shangri-la of mountains reaching to the heavens through which you would trek through harrowing passes to thousand year old monasteries.  I imagined some journey of the soul, inspired by a 150 year old Master.  Picture Luke Skywalker training with Yoda in the swamps of Dagoba.  Achiving “total consciousness”, inner peace, or whatever you wish to call it.

And you can do all that in Nepal, if you plan accordingly.  Which I did not.  Those monastaries are definitely there, but they take some finding, so you need to do some research in advance.  And the treks take more time than the seven days I had afforded myself.

Because of these constraints, I spent my time in polluted Kathmandu and the town of Pokhara, which has a lake, but that’s about it.  To everybody else, it is just a place to begin a trek to the real scenery of Nepal and bask in the glow of your trek when it’s over.  EVERYBODY who visits Nepal goes on a trek and absolutely loves it.  Not me.  I saw a lake.

I was reminded of the time I brought a friend to a really good Salvadorean restaurant and told him in no uncertain terms to order empanadas.  It’s a pretty straighforward instruction at a Salvadorean restaurant, but he thought that some fish dish buried in the back page of the menu would be better.   It wasn’t.  He repeatedly asked me to take him back “to the place where I ordered badly”, but I felt that his judgment was so egregiously poor that he deserved to be punished.  I denied his requests for eight years, and only provided redemption because I was moving from DC.

So rather than some mind altering experience, there was a lot of regret.  I was in disbelief that I could go all that way, to the one place that was most important to me, and not do the any of obvious things.  How could I blow it so badly?  I even considered whether kharma was paying me back for torturing my friend (there are a lot of Hindus in Nepal).  I was already thinking about when (if) I would be able to come back and do it right.  I figured it would be at least 2 years, but realistically, I knew it would be much more.  And if kharma had a hand in this, I would have to wait at least eight.

By necessity, I had to find something to do for four days.  There were a few standard attractions, like the hike to the Peace Pagoda, and watching the sunrise, but after that, all you could do was kill time.  So I would walk around the town and the lake, usually in the mist, which helped clear my head:

and on the one sunny day, I spent a few hours mesmerized by the glistening water.

There were a few people I met there who I kept bumping into for impromptu meals or drinks.  These included a tattoo artist from North Carolina and his girlfriend (a white girl with dreadlocks).  They would seem to be the opposite of me, on paper at least, but we hit it off well and had some really good conversations.  I was really tired after the Peace Pagoda hike, so for a few hours I hung out with the local couple who owned the little store at the bottom of the mountain.  I figured they would get a lot of company in that location, but in light of how enthralled they were to have me there, I’m guessing most people are too tired from the hike to sit and chat.

I fell into a great, great, great, great nighttime routine.  I would leave the room at six, get a massage ($10 for an hour), walk around town a bit, eat dinner, and be home before the nightly thunderstorm.  I would listen to the rain in the room and read until the power cut out, and then I would read some more by candle or flashlight until I fell asleep to the sound of the pounding rain.

Somewhere over the course of my four days in Pokhara, I stopped thinking about the treks I wasn’t doing and the return trip at some unforseeable future date, and appreciated what I was actually doing, in the present.  This is just what Yoda (or whatever non-fictional guru I may have met) would have taught me to do.  And as the Star Wars movies (or better yet, real-life people) would say, you need to follow your own path.  Trekking might be right for most people who visit Nepal, but it wasn’t for me.  At least not at that time.  I was tired from safari and all of the other travelling, and wanted to just sit in place for a while.  I didn’t research more or plan better because this trip is about living day-to-day, and looking at the real world beyond the computer screen.  Deep inside I knew these things, which is why I did what I did.  I just needed to let go of the regret to realize that fact (of course, the mist and the massages helped too!).

Sometimes, you can’t go looking for Shangri-la.  All you can do is be patient unti it finds you, just like the organic farm found me on my last night as my path crossed with someone else’s.  And the next day, as I stood in line at the airport, I knew that my Nepal experience was everything I had hoped it would be.

I had no regrets, even though I did not see so much as a single snow-covered mountain.  And maybe that’s why, about 30 minutes into the flight, when I wasn’t expecting it whatsoever, some of the Himilayas appeared above the clouds at 25,000 feet.  One of them was a little hill they call Everest.

Symbols in Nepal

I thought this symbol had been relegated to the history books, but I saw it all over in Nepal.  This photo was taken of the hood of a public bus.

To add to the weirdness (to me, and I suspect most of my readers), I saw this around also.  I thought it was just for Synagogues and Kosher products, and certainly was not consistent with that first symbol.

Apparently, the first symbol (which we call a ‘swastika’ in the U.S.) is a Hindu symbol and has not been corrupted everywhere.  According to the “Primer on Hinduism” http://www.sanskrit.org/www/Hindu%20Primer/swastika.html:

Literally, the word svastika is a statement of affirmation, “It is!” “Life is good!” “There is value” “There is meaning!” Svastika is a term that affirms the positive values of life.

Regarding the Star of David, this is from the wikipedia entry on “Hexagram”:

Six pointed stars have also been found in cosmological diagrams in Hinduism, Buddhism, and Jainism. The reasons behind this symbol’s common appearance in Indic religions and the West are lost in the mists of antiquity.

To make matters even more surprising, the wikipedia entry goes on to say:

In Buddhism, some old versions of the Bardo Thodol, also known as The Tibetan Book of the Dead, contain a hexagram with a Swastika inside. 

So that explains the symbols.  But we’re not done yet!  I saw this in Kathmandu.

It appears that “Aryans” are considered an ethnic group in Nepal.  Again, from wikipedia (Demographics of Nepal http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Demographics_of_Nepal#Ethnic_groups):

Nepal’s 2001 census enumerated 102 castes and ethnic groups.  Both Indo-Aryan and Mixed Indo-Mongoloid comprise 80% who consist of Chetri, Bahun, Newar, etc. While the Mongoloids including Magar, Gurung and Rai comprise 17% according to EBS Documentary ‘World Travel with a Theme’ made in 2010.

I’m not sure exactly what “Aryan” means in this context (I’m tired of doing research for you people), but I sure didn’t see any locals with blonde hair and blue eyes.

So allow me to state the obvious.  It’s different in Nepal.

Staying on the farm

LIke it or not, I had to go back to crummy Kathmandu to catch my flight.  Since shared trauma is a bonding experience, I became fast friends with my seat-mate (from the Black Forest of Germany) on the return bus ride, which seemed even more harrowing the second time around.

It turns out that she was staying at the Gamcha organic farm, about 30 minutes outside of the city.

http://www.facebook.com/sobogaardnepal

She knew people who had stayed there and reported that it was quiet and cozy. Not only that, it was actually much closer to the airport than downtown. Accordingly, I was a “no show” at my hostel in Kathmandu, which I was going to use as a photographic example of how small and dirty my average room is.  Instead, I stayed at . . . .

. . . which was obviously much better.

After preparing us a dinner that included mostly farm grown food, the staff went to bed at 8:00.  I was ready to do the same, but my new friend insisted on having a few beers “To Celebrate Being Alive.”  I thought that was a damn good reason.  Not only that, but her brother makes Schnapps for a living, so we shared some of the fruits of the family business.  Since the farm is used to catering to Danish and Germans, they even had little Schnapps glasses on hand.  

All that was missing was a slice of Black Forest cake.  I will pick one up if I make it to Freiburg.  Danke Shein, Gicela!

Pokhara, Nepal

My time in Nepal started out in Kathmandu.  I think trekking is so popular in Nepal because people want to escape the constant blaring of car and motorcycle horns in Katmandu.  I think tea is so popular in Nepal because of the inevitable head and chest congestion caused by the poor air quality in Kathmandu.  The sound of people clearing their throats and spitting phlegm is joins the horns in the Kathmandu symphony.

So I took the harrowing 6 hour bus ride to lakeside Pokhara.  Most of the time, my eyes were closed to avoid viewing the shear drop-offs that were unprotected by any guard rail, or the oncoming traffic (passing slower vehicles in the opposite direction).  When I did look, I had some good glimpses of the countryside.

And I saw lots of towns with yaks walking around.

At least I found some peace in Pokhara.                                                     

And still more peace.                                                     

Speaking of peace, the 71st World Peace Pagoda is on a nearby mountaintop.  It was a tough one hour climb (I think peace would be more popular if it were less work), but I saw some good sights along the way.

Finally, I was there.

On another day, I got up at 5am so I could catch the sunrise.

First Class

I flew to Dubai on Emirates Airlines, and from the first glance at the cabin, I could tell it was by far the most luxurious airline I have ever flown.  For a while, I started to think that maybe the airline wasn’t necessarily as posh as I thought, but it just seemed that way because I was used to roughing it.  But when the flight attendant not only handed me a menu, but the selections included “red thai chicken curry” or “breaded talapia” with “macadamia gateau” for dessert, I knew it was not a matter of altered expectations.  (If anyone knows what gateau is, please enlighten the rest of us.  I ate mine too quickly to really analyze it).  Just to make sure, I asked the woman next to me whether we were in economy class.  We were.  This was just a warm-up.

I left Dubai on Ethiad Airlines, another UAE-based airline.  I arrived at the check in counter either really early, or really late, but either whichever it was, there was no room left in economy class, so I was bumped up to FIRST CLASS.  It was my first time, and let me tell you, it will be hard to go back.

I would even go as far as to say that my area was beyond first class.  I have passed through the first class cabin while boarding other flights, and the only apparent difference appeared to be bigger seats.  Well, nobody else was allowed to walk through MY first class section.  The peasants all turned right towards the back of the plane, and we the chosen went left, passing through that curtain.  It’s amazing a quarter inch of cotton can do so much to separate folks like me from the rest of you losers.

Unlike that lesser first class that allows the riff-raff to pass through, our seats reclined all the way into beds!  For this reason, they could only fit about a third as many people in this level of first class, making it more even elite than the other version.  Oh yeah, the seats had massagers.  And even in the upright position, you could fully stretch your legs (those are my feet underneath the TV).

You will also notice the large size of the food tray, the presence of the table cloth, the fresh squeezed lemon juice (with mint) and the deep selection of available programming.  My pillow and blanket were nicer than I get at most places where I sleep.  That’s not really saying much, but it’s a lot better than you usually get on a plane.

My only complaint is the flight arrived a half an hour early.  Couldn’t we circle around for a while?