6 September 2002   I arrived today in Siem Reap after a 20-something hour plane ride.  Flying in all I could see was flooded rice fields until the very last second before touching down.  I was met at the Airport by Jon (the director of the Angkor Hospital for Children), Sokonthea (the AHC general service manager), and Va (the driver).  They took care of my paperwork and whisked me away to Jon's house, where I'll be staying until they can prepare the guest house next door to receive me and the other two Americans- Brett and Sarya- who should be arriving soon.  The drive from the airport was great- we took the scenic route with my first view of Angkor Wat (the giant temple complex that has become an icon for the country and is on the national flag).  Verdant foliage and new sights were everywhere: coconut trees, 20 foot palm trees, water buffalo, little boys riding ox carts, children herding cows.  Everyone from the hospital has been very nice to me and Jon has been extremely hospitable.  I am sleeping in the guest room at Jon's house under a big mosquito net under a fan that is on full blast but not keeping me cool enough.  I am in a borrowed chromah* Jon gave me and looking forward to a full day at the hospital tomorrow. * a "Cambodian kilt" that is just a checkered cloth wrapped about the waist   6 September 2002   E-mail "The Onslaught Begins": Well, I arrived in Cambodia safely and have survived my first day!  It is the middle of the rainy season, so there is a lot of flooding which means several things: 1. it's thundering something awful outside and, with a tin roof and without grounding, the house is a lightning rod so this will have to be short as the computer has to be unplugged 2. when my flight was coming in from Singapore we nearly skimmed the water coming in; the whole landscape flying in was flooded rice paddies and the air field is the first feature of dry land 3. as all the rice fields are flooded the snakes and such have sought drier ground, so I have to be extra vigelant for any unwanted bunk buddies or scorpions in my shoes 4. the roads are phenomenally fun to drive on as they have huge craters, ditches (I hope quicksand somewhere, but time will tell) and only one lane, but the town got its first paved roads ever a few months ago from the Japanese so I'm told that the main streets are like heaven compared with what they had before I'm staying at the home of Jon Morgan, the director of the hospital, for a few days until the house that some other volunteers and myself will be staying in is set.  The order went out for my bicycle (woohoo) so soon I'll be driving in style.  The mosquitos are starting to come out so I'm going to hop under my mosquito net and sleep off the jet lag.  Thanks again to everyone for their support, I really think I'm going to have a wonderful experience out here. -Mark Random Observation: When the plane arrived in Singapore the captain was kind enough to remind the passengers that Singapore had harsh punishments for drunkenness.   8 September 2002   E-mail "Re: The Onslaught Begins": .... I'm still adjusting to the new time schedule, which is exactly the opposite of the states.  I'm staying at the home of Jon and his wife Meiko (who is the director of nursing at the hospital).  They just adopted a little Cambodian girl named Rikki who was a little 900 gram premie that a woman left at the hospital.  The kids here are what Jon calls "terminally cute."  It's hard for foreigners who come here not to adopt one- they're everywhere, they're needy, and they're cute.  I don't think I'll be having any problems with money as everything here is very cheap and I really need to buy very little except for bottled water, but we'll see how that goes when I move into the house down the road and am more on my own.  Buster and Bruiser, Jon's dogs, are prejudiced against white people- they keep their distance and growl at me.  I'm going to start working with the education director tomorrow to see about putting together a course introducing statistics and basic epidemiology to the Cambodian doc's.  Will write later but I'm taking a nap under the fan now- it really is a jungle out there with the humidity and heat.  I can hear roosters crowing at dawn and cattle mooing all day outside; a chorus of tree frogs lulls me to sleep. -Mark 9 September 2002   E-mail "Re: the party starts here": .... the no drunk thing was for Singapore- in Cambodia you can do whatever you want.  Actually, the other night someone got t'd at their neighbor so they lobbed a hand grenade into their house!  Up until a few years ago, almost every male was wearing a gun in a hip holster or across their back- it was like a status symbol.  It used to be the Wild West.  I'm happy to say that it's calmed down considerably and that people are wearing cell phones instead of guns now.  Well, must be getting some lunch.  Will write later....  Keep well bro. -Mark 9 September 2002   E-mail "Welcome to the Jungle": This place is like the wild west- I'm digging it.  I'm sitting in an internet cafe now at a table made of bamboo with a gecko running around on the wall in front of me and a little kid running around behind me.  Two nights ago there was an big bang- turns out someone got peeved at their neighbor and decided to lob a hand grenade into their house.  Up until a few years ago all the males in town would wear guns on their hips or slung across their backs as a kind of status symbol and would use them at the drop of a hat; now cell phones are a status symbol and men will wear them even if they have no service.  Bodies are always being fished out of the Tonle Sap (the big lake to the south that goes from ~1000 sq miles to ~4000 sq miles during the rainy season) and the police always attribute them to suicide- even if there are two bullets through the skull. Know how I said I'd be getting a bike to get around on?  I did, but it has some funny quirks- funny as in, "Hey, I almost got run over except I'm not in a cartoon funny."  First, there are no back breaks and the front brake needs a memo if you want to stop 30 yards ahead.  Then there are the pedals- there are none, just the metal rods.  And of course what is left of the gears have a habit of switching and throwing the chain at very inopportune times.  But hey, it sure does make for an interesting ride.  I'm going to see about bringing it to the mechanic. The hospital is really a great place to work because of the staff, but the children are severely sick and malnourished.  Looking at the beds is like looking in a  tropical disease/ trauma manual- typhoid, malaria, parasites, lost eyes, severe burns, dehydration, missing limbs, etc.  From preemies under little mosquito nets to toddlers with IV's popping out all over to 4 year olds bandaged up it is the epitome of destitution.  A lot of the small children have burn marks scattered around their bodies from seeing local medicine men, who believe that they are scaring away the devils that cause disease.  The most disconcerting thing is that a lot of the children have given up on crying- they have learned that it will do them no good. Siem Reap itself is undergoing all the growing pains one would expect of a town in this country that has money coming in from the NGO's and the tourists who come to see the temples: building haphazardly, men flocking to the cities and leaving some areas of the countryside almost entirely composed of women, a lot of brothels around, poorer and poorer dirt roads because of increased traffic, etc.  And there are some impressive blunders by the international community, like when the US brought over police officials to teach them how to fight drug trade and trafficking, especially of marijuana.  Before then, pot was used as a medicine for the longest time- people's grandmother's would smoke it to help with the aches and to give them more of an appetite so they would eat more rice.  People would grow it in their back yards like any herb.  In steps the US and tells the police that it is a drug and should be stopped or else the US would not normalize trade relations- all the police hear is that there can be money made by selling this plant so they crack down on people growing it so that they can have control of the market and grown and sell their own.  Yeah, that's how a lot of international efforts go here. Oh, and if I wasn't clear last time the no drunkenness thing is in Singapore- you can do whatever, and I mean WHATEVER, you want here so long as you are discreet. Treading softly, -Mark 11 September 2002   Last night hung out at The Red Piano, a restaurant/ guest house started up by the film crew from "Tombraider", and practiced some Khmer phrases with the waitresses.  I ran into "Bob", an American who is helping start flower businesses to sell to the hotels for the locals, and we had a beer.  He told me stories about how he went from the Vietnam War to being a mercenary to being an orchid guru.  A place like this draws some really interesting people. 17 September 2002   E-mail "Zen Moments and the Temple of Teddy":  I'm moved into my new house and the other two Americans who just graduated college in Virginia- Brett and Sarya- arrived this past weekend.  They're a nice couple that I immediately became friends with.  It's a nice set-up: a cook makes two meals a day six days a week and we eat out on Sundays.  I've been pleasantly surprised by the weather- true, it rains twice a day, but it gets so hot that it burns off quickly and freshens things up.  Because it is the rainy season the river is full to the brim and some streets flood a lot- fun to bike through!  I'm not sure if it's unabashed optimism but so far this feels more like a vacation than a third world experience- maybe it's just that there are so many new experiences that everything is an adventure... driving my bike to and from the hospital I get these Zen moments when a little boy is herding a bunch of cattle on the side of the road and then I look in front of me and see a monk in a saffron robe on the back of a moto smiling at me.  Ding!  Even a picnic this weekend at Jon's farm (where he is trying to grow some cash crops to give some people jobs so that they are self-sufficient) with Brett, Sarya, Mieko, Rikki (the adopted Cambodian baby), and Buster (the little Benji dog that is prejudiced against white people) was a trip: Jon has this bamboo hut probably fifteen feet in diameter, very Gilligan's Island, with a thatched roof and everything.  We took out hammocks and a charcoal grill from the metal boxes where they are locked up and shish-kabobed some fresh meat and eggplant.  Then Mieko, who is holding the baby, starts yelling, "Scorpion, scorpion!"  Across the bamboo planks in hot pursuit was an 8-inch centipede squirming like a battalion of infantry between hills- so someone grabbed a PVC tube and started wailing at the thing but it succeeds in escaping despite our best efforts to kill it.  No matter that it was a centipede rather than a scorpion- centipede bites around here are actually a lot more poisonous and painful than scorpions.  We, and by we I mean one of the Cambodian farmers with us giving the moral support, then went around the hut trying to find anything that could hurt the baby or give one of us an uncomfortable afternoon.  Three scorpions were found- the farmer was very nonchalant about squashing them and ripping off their stingers.  I had found one on the floor next to me so I smashed it with my sandal, but it turned out that it was already dead and just the exoskeleton and stinger were left.  During the rainy season the bugs look for shelter wherever they can find it since there is so much flooding, which is why they move into human dwellings during this time of the year.  Remembering this fact, I've been avoiding the bathroom that is attached to my bedroom because it has no screens and lets in herds of mosquitoes and the biggest spider that I've seen outside of a zoo (I've never considered myself to be afraid of bugs, but when I'm still unsure what's poisonous and what is harmless, I will err on the side of caution).  In related news, work has been picking up since the Americans arrived and my Khmer language classes, which I take three times a week for an hour, are going well enough for me to be able to function in the market and in basic greetings.  In the house we have a little built-in shrine which we have been considering making up like a gaudy Buddhist home shrine and putting a teddy bear in the middle, but it may offend some people so we're holding off for the present.  Hope all is well on the home front and thanks for all the e-mails! -Mark 17 September 2002   E-mail "Re: hi there mark!!!": Thanks for the e-mail and sorry I haven't been able to get to the e-mail cafe sooner to respond.  Hmm... well, I'll explain what exactly I do here as it was explained to me but can't be more specific- I'm a GIR- General Intellectual Resource.  I was told that I'd be doing something based on 1) what the hospital needs and 2) what I'm good at.  So pretty much the volunteers who are not doctors or nurses or specialists are utility (wo)men.  So far, I've been designing a course for the Cambodian docs on basic epidemiology stats- just enough so they can make sense of the reports from the ministry of health and other medical publications, I've designed and am getting built by some local craftsmen a portable examination chair for the outreach dental program, I've been doing random computer chores and maintenance, and one of the big goals Brett and I have is upgrading the hospital network software and capabilities, upgrading the hardware to handle the new network, integrating the information from different departments (like the lab and the OPD) into one grand shared database so everyone can access the needed info on any patient without waiting for the paperwork, and teaching at least two staff members how to do basic network management and database design (the last staff member who knew how to run the database was tragically killed this past December and they haven't had anyone who knew how to redesign things since then). All of the volunteers are given room and board in a house that the hospital rents- more than adequate and more than I expected.  There are expats around from everywhere, so the town is quite an interesting melting pot.  I'll be here exactly 6 months, until the beginning of March, and then hopping on the trail.  That's the plan. 19 September 2002   Ahh Cambodia- land of mines, malaria and the Mekong.  Mission for today: buy a hammock.  Mission accomplished. 27 September 2002   E-mail "Re:":  Thanks for the excellent email.... I just showed it to Brett (the other American who just graduated from college in Virginia and who is my house mate... really cool kid, you'd like him a lot, and he's teaching me a bit of guitar)... good work getting the computer up and running- I think I'm good for music because Brett burned 700 CD's onto MP3 CD's and the hospital now has access to the internet (which most ppl can't use but I have to as Brett and I and Julian (this dude from the UK who's visiting his sister, Miranda, who owns a bar called the Angkor What? and who does network administration for a living so is helping us out with the system upgrade)... had lunch with these two Austrians- a guy and a girl does not always equal a couple- who just came back from Laos after bribing the border guards... you don't have to bribe them but, if you don't, there's "a 99.9 percent chance you'll be robbed" apparently... the Khmer Rouge is pronounced like the contraction for 'come here' or c'mere and then rouge as in the red blush for women's makeup which means, wonder of wonders, 'red' in French... you'll be happy to learn that I am pretty much universally known as the 'Berang' by the local moto dopes (motorcycle taxi drivers) which means 'French' or 'Frenchman' because I have the dirty blonde hair and blue eyes and white skin- they don't know any other name for it because the French were the ones who 'colonized' Cambodia in the early 1900's until they peacefully gained their independence in the 50's... my bicycle keeps breaking- I don't think it's made for anyone over 140 lbs- so I may end up riding a dirt bike that Jon (the hospital director) offered me to borrow since he recently got a pickup (last year there was a handful of personal cars in the whole city but now they're becoming more and more frequent)... anyways, I have to go do some work now... and thanks for having the troops at the ready and keeping the vampire femes at bay (thinking of which I have to show you this comic book I saw)... I'm trying to get a digital camera so I can share some of the sights with everyone back home but electronics are actually more expensive here than in the States... we'll see- I have someone in Phnom Phen working on it... Peace out for now   28 September 2002   E-mail "Re:":  Jon passed your email on to me.  I've been in Siem Reap for exactly three weeks and have thoroughly enjoyed the experience thus far.  I'm working at the Angkor Hospital for Children, as you know, and have been able to make myself useful around the hospital.... Siem Reap has changed much since you were here from what I'm told: they just got their first paved roads (done by the Japanese) and two working stoplights!  Hotels, some of them rather big, are springing up like mushrooms.  Some of the guest houses even have running water and toilets, almost unheard of a year ago.  I get the impression that Siem Reap is changing quickly, especially since the government allowed international flights to land here (previously all international flights had to go to Phnom Phen).  This means that most of the money coming into the country seems to be coming into here with the tourists.  Still, a five or ten minute drive on a local road in any direction will get you right into the countryside with the rice fields and water buffalo.  A friend is trying to get a digital camera from Phnom Phen for me too, so I should very soon be able to send you pictures of anything you want to see from the temple ruins to my neighbor the cow- act kind of like your eyes over here.  I hope all is well back in Providence. 10 October 2002   E-mail "Dear Mrs. S":  Hello from Cambodia!  Well, I've been here for exactly one month in the city of Siem Reap working at the Children's Hospital.  I'd tell you what I do as an "administrative assistant" but a lot of it varies from day to day.... I feel that my liberal arts education (in and out of school) has prepared me to make myself useful in a handful of capacities in this country where resources dictate a "make do or do without" approach to healthcare.  I wish I could brag of harsh working conditions and long hours, but instead I've actually found it to be much less stressful than school in the states: an hour and a half lunch break when I just lay in a hammock in the shade, no timecard to punch but instead a goal oriented mindset, and enough expats around and tourists to keep me more than occupied with the social scene.  Speaking of the expats, this city seems to be a magnet for the most motley bunch of adventure seekers I've ever met and had the pleasure to have a beer with (not least among them being a former mercenary, a morphine addict from Zimbabwe, a Japanese man riding a $14 bicycle across Asia, card- playing Austrians, a boatload of stoners and trippers, etc.).  "What lovely people" I think you'd say of them, or at the least they're pretty darn interesting. I'm finally feeling like I've gone beyond being a weekend tourist from Tokyo, like I've scratched the surface a bit.  Maybe it has something to do with having spent some time exploring the ruins in the jungle that aren't in any of the Lonely Planet tour books or maps, watching the sun set over rice fields and palm trees while sitting atop an ancient pile of hewn stones at the end of a narrow jungle path.  Or maybe it is because I've been to the Buddhist temple and given the monks rice then spent the weekend with a local family.  Perhaps sleeping under a mosquito net and being the preferred white meat by the local mosquito population permits me to relate to the experiences of my neighbors.  It could even be that doing a little modest bushwhacking with a machete on a farm and almost killing a scorpion (it turned out it was already dead and I had merely gotten its shed exoskeleton) has me feeling a bit heady.  But if I had to pick one reason I feel like I'm on the inner circle, I'd have to say it was the diarrhea.  Agonizing, gut-wrenching, plain old nasty diarrhea.  Last week after seeing sunset from the off-the-beaten-path ruins I started running a high grade fever, then commenced what can only be described as an extended jungle warfare campaign- it came for the full frontal assault with the 103 degree fever so I flanked it, hitting it with some parasitimol (what the rest of the world calls the active ingredient in extra strength Tylenol)... having already anticipated that move it let up on the fever spearhead and called in reserves to start some skirmishes in my upper intestines... I knew my strength was already sapping and that the enemy was entrenched for the moment so I tried to rest up and drink some water- bad move; my stomach had turned sides (evidently been sleeping with the enemy, in the biological sense) and threw back the vital supplies time and time again... then came an extended tour of duty on the John, one which the details are not necessary to expound upon but it suffices to say that I was fated from the start to lose and should have given up when I had the chance (and enough white toilet paper to wave in surrender).  Having lost the battle and my pride, I checked in to the hospital I work at in the middle of the night to see if it was the dreaded Dengue fever.  Luckily, it wasn't that; they couldn't figure out what it was.  But I had to get an IV the next day because I was badly dehydrated- no wonder why diarrhea is a top cause of death in the world.  In a few days I was back on my feet, unsure of what unholy plague my body had beaten back, but happy that it had won the day... P.S. When I get back to the States in March I'm hiking the Appalachian Trail!  I'm going to be hiking it with one of my old Lasalle classmates and fellow soccer players 13 October 2002 We all took a boat ride on the flooded Tonle Sap lake with the staff of the dental clinic and the departing Japanese dentists Yasu, Fumi and Emiko (all in their mid-twenties and about to embark on a 5 month adventure tour of Europe, Africa and the Americas... perhaps the most sincerely "fluffy" people I've ever met).  The boat was a flat-bottom tin-roofed heap full of bamboo lawn chairs that cost $7 a day.  Most of the day we cruised in and out of the treetops (during the dry season 3/4 of the lake is dry land) trying to find a swimming and picnicking place where the giant bees weren't swarming us.  Among the highlights of the picnic: one of the Cambodian docs smacking a rat swimming in the water then giving the stunned rodent to the cabin boy, who promptly took it by its tail and smashed its brains out on the side of the boat so that it could be eaten for dinner... no playing with your food before you smash its brains out in this country Brett giving a little boy about 3 years old his first taste of beer and the boy chugging 3/4 of the can; he also later drank half a Red Bull... nothing has appeared in the papers yet but a lot of shaved cats have suddenly been appearing all over town Yasu making Umi drink a can full of Tonle Sap parasite- infested water in true Japanese game show fashion I sat out the swimming, you can call that undiplomatic or perhaps even less than manly, but remember:  1) I had just gotten over a nasty 3 round bout with the microbes and wasn't looking forward to a rematch 2) the first microbe contender may have hailed from our very own shower water, and that's supposed to be relatively clean 3) as we were driving to the boat, the road was full of these little planks going about 20 feet over the water and ending in one- man bamboo outhouses- this is the same water everyone was swimming in and swallowing 4) Robyn, the lab director at the hospital, had just told us that she found a case of liver fluke and that it was very possible it came from swimming in a lake so we should be careful.  The other big event was stopping at what I have dubbed "Prof. Moriarty's Floating Funhouse"- a house/zoo/restaurant/fish nursery that was kept afloat by being lashed to pontoons of bundled bamboo.  The first thing you see as you float up to dock is the merry quartet of what Brett named "Mr. Burns birds" shackled to the top of a cage, inside of which are two pelicans that are constantly getting dropped on by their second storey neighbors.  Then you notice the spider monkey on a short leash next to the cage, eyeing you like you're the one who kicked his puppy.  The middle of the platform is cut away to reveal Little Orphan Annie's Fish Nursery, which is so packed with catfish that they are poking out of the water and resemble a very agitated eel spaghetti.  You hear a PLOP and look to see another spider monkey darting up from the pontoon- it just Tigger pounced a big turtle and pushed it into the water.  Looking closer, the turtle has a leash on it too.  "Neat trick getting the turtle to stick out its neck so you could put on a collar," you think... until you see that the proprietors of the Funhouse had drilled into the turtle's shell to put in a grommet to tie the rope to.  This is getting weird, where's the ASPCA?  Oh no, there are cages next to the tables packed with souvenirs, and you brace yourself as you walk up to them.  There is quarter- sized simian hand sticking out of a ball of soft looking fur- two balled up lemurs are directly in the sunlight, hiding their big brown nocturnal eyes from the mid-day sun.  Four weasels are moping around in their cage.  A few small Burmese boa constrictors are curled up and one is out and being passed around by the tourists.  In the top cage is a cat- sized baby Cambodian cougar pacing schizophrenically back and forth along the front of its cage.  The bare cages are all piled one on top of another.  The only free animal, you notice, is a teddy bear sized baby gibbon walking on its knuckles to the lap of who you presume to be the dark mistress of the Funhouse.  As she feeds it some fruit you remember how pet baby gibbons are acquired: the poacher shoots the mother down from a tree and both mother and baby fall to the ground since the baby still spends its days clinging to its mother.  Only about one in every 18 or 20 baby gibbons survives this method and the rest die with their mothers, either by being shot themselves or from the fall.  You are probably by now thinking, "What a weird, cruel, nightmarish place it is here."  You are happy to leave and console yourself with the thought that at least you didn't buy anything there and contribute to the spectacle.   20 October 2002 E-mail "Gettin on with it and gettin old":  .... I hear that about feeling old.  It hit me and M- one night this past summer when we were about to stop into an old college watering hole.  We saw a bunch of orientation leaders and athletes in there... we got a really strong vibe saying we didn't belong and so we skedaddled over to get some pizza near Brown and talk about how when you graduate you're suddenly cut off from the college vibe, like you're supposed to become a responsible and productive member of society or something.  Cause up to that point it's all about getting to that point and that's all that anyone expects of you.  Dang, people are excited for you if you can get to that point at all and you have this support from society in general- you walk up to someone you don't know or strike up a conversation at a bar and they ask you first your name then "what do you do."  "I'm a student," you reply.  Whether you're talking to some bum off the street or some big time politician or CEO you're 100% sure to get a supportive, positive reply to that- or at least a grudgingly respectful or jealous grunt from the bum.  You're like Switzerland as a student- nobody can socially look down on you or judge you because you haven't actually begun your career and chosen a road, plus our society values education so much that being a student trumps everything for student-age kids. Anyways dude, things are always interesting here, every day another adventure....  I have some pictures up and am starting an online journal where I can share some of the experiences.  Probably turn out to be a lot of mindless banter but we'll give it a try.  If nothing else it'll help me remember things like the other night.  A Cambodian guy from work who's friends with Brett (my housemate) had been asking us to go out some night on the town.  We finally get around to it and head out for a karaoke bar- what the hell, I figure, never been to one in the states but in Asia nobody knows what the heck you're singing or whether you have a good or bad voice.  Double dang- celebrities can do whatever they want to here in Asia and nobody cares, such as Dustin Hoffman having his own whiskey.  We get to this place with Christmas lights all over the place and an outside tent blasting some Cambodian karaoke with some drunk clearly slurring, even though it was in another language.  But no, we go inside to this VIP type setup.  We have a private room with a big couch, a karaoke TV, a menu of karaoke songs, two microphones... and a girl for each one of us!  *, I think, this definitely qualifies as the most shady situation I've ever been in.  And these girls are dressed up real nice in Western clothes and have makeup on. "Um, dude, is this some kind of you-know-what?"  I ask Brett.  "Naw, the girls serve you beer."  Ok, I'll allow that, but it's still pretty shady. The beer-girl assigned to me pours my beer then pours one for herself.  "I guess they drink with you here too," Brett shrugged.  Ok, in the name of diplomacy I'll let it slide this one time, but else wise no way in hell I'm gonna pay someone to drink my bloody beer.  The dude from work assured us that everything was Kosher, and that they sing for you too.  I'd warrant they'd do anything else too, but remembering my Christian upbringing I tried not to judge or at least eye the room for a smaller sized rock when it came time for the stoning.  None to be had, damn.  So we had a good time singing old hippie tunes and the work dude sung in Khmer. But after about 2 hours my beer-girl was plastered- she had been trying to keep up for a little while with Brett and myself and was clearly out of her league.  She passed out.  Ok, alarms in my head going off, but the other beer-girls seemed cool about it and tried to wake her up by putting a cut lime in her mouth... bad idea.  She woke up, all right, and projectile vomited all over the other beer girl.  We immediately paid the bill and jetted.  I thought it was hilarious and weirdly familiar... oh yeah, that was 75% of girls freshman year of college. Well dude, it's a full moon outside.  The housemates and me are going to do some moonlight temple exploring... should be fun but none of the pictures come out with so little light. 21 October 2002 E-mail "Re":  .... Sorry to take so long to reply to the email.  Things have been hectic around here- since last we talked I've gotten my first taste of tropical disease (actually had to check in to the hospital and get hooked up to an IV for a whole morning), visited the jungle temples, gone on a boat ride on this flooded lake dodging between the tops of trees, and started riding a borrowed motor bike (my regular bike broke for the sixth and last time, I don't think it's safe to be driving on these crazy roads).  Oh, and the internet was down for over 2 weeks and I managed to lose all my e-mails and most of my addresses.  Apologies if I haven't replied to anything sent recently.  I'm set on making a DVD to give to friends and family documenting the trip when we finish the trail- I don't know if I told you I bought a digital camcorder to do just that.  Put in a bunch of video clips with a soundtrack and all my still photos.   21 October 2002 E-mail "Re: Gettin on with it and gettin old":  .... it's 1:40 AM and I am at the hospital fixing this Dutch doctor Joost's computer because I said I'd have it fixed for tomorrow but some French version of win98 is giving me a hard time.  Earlier we went to this local talent/fashion/karioke show: super duper third world ghetto operation, you wouldda been impressed.  They had candles lighting up the vendor carts that crushed sugar cane into this sweet drink, which they put in little plastic bags with straws.  Women sold food and whole chickens cooked on a stick out of wicker baskets on the ground.  I had a piece of corn, which is considered a dessert food here.  The stage was lit with fluorescent lights run by car batteries.  For a dance floor in another place they had what was basically a May pole lit with Christmas lights.  The people danced around it in a circle- you pay to dance based on how many times you dance around the pole.  Oh, and there were only dudes dancing- it isn't considered proper for a respectable girl to be fraternizing with the boys until she is married, and even then never in public.  There is a full moon so it's like seeing everything at noon, but under a shadow, so all the trees seem to cast a second shadow.  Driving on a motobike down the road is like being in the middle of a black and white movie with silhouettes of palm and coconut trees and open spaces of rice paddies lining the road.  Occasionally there is a little hut with a thatched roof.  Time is passing so quickly here- I've already been here for 5 weeks!  But I'm looking forward to coming back to the States in a few months.  A lot of the stuff I've been seeing here in Asia has made me appreciate a bit more how really, really good we have it and how important it is that we live in a country that has license plates reading "Live Free or Die."  Because the people here aren't free in a lot of ways, they don't have the individual freedoms we enjoy and sometimes abuse, they don't have any real say in the government.  Ok dude, got to jet... the geckos are calling.   24 October 2002 Kicking around after dinner, Sarya and Sopheap (one of the cleaning girls at the hospital) decided to make some rice in the kitchen (a separate structure in back of the house).  As I looked to find out how preparations were going, out they come all in a tizzy about a spider the size of Sarya's hand being in the kitchen, so the kitchen was conceded to the arachnid.  In a flash of illogic, this precipitated a bug fight when everyone (except Sarya) started grabbing the big grasshoppers or cockroaches or whatever was crawling around the house and tossing them at each other, which gets interesting when the bug gets tangled in your hair.  Cheap fun but, alas, no rice for us.  Last night we hopped on the "motos" for a jaunt out to Tac Mien- a small mountain where there was a 3 night religious festival of some sort.  It was my first time driving a moto with someone on the back and I think I handled it all right.  The festivals here are dead ringers for the church fairs back home, except for a few minor things...  All the lights are either fluorescent lamps hooked up to car batteries or candles; and that makes it feel like you're alternately walking in a film where the picture is bleached and harsh and one where warm tones stand out from the surrounding black, as if everything were around a flickering camp fire.  Along the side of the path old women sell fruit, cigarettes, packs of Wrigley's chewing gum, meat cooked on splinter spits over tiny piles of coal furiously fanned.  They sit in the dust and smile with toothless mouths, cheeks like withered windfall apples.  Each has a candle set in front and the shadows dance across the wrinkled landscape of their faces.  A lifetime of expressions revealed, etched in the fires of the million moments that were that life, but now all together left for the world to see at once: a million smiles' crinkled crows feet  and frowns' furrowed brows.  I am reminded of crumpled brown paper bags and old age sticks. There are a lot of games of chance here- the Cambodians are noted for their love of gambling of any kind.  There are the impossible ball tosses- knock down all the bottles in 3 shots and you get a prize, kid- but in most of the makeshift booths the game is merely picking 3 pieces of paper from a bowl and seeing if there is a prize number written on it.  Brett won a pair of underwear which everyone around thought was hilarious, and it was, especially because they were women's underwear and he was waving them around his head.  Many people running the booths have bullhorns to heckle and harass people into playing.  The din is substantial when mixed with the karaoke music from the many karaoke booths lined up side by side. The rides would be shut down in a day in Any town, America for endangering the youth as well as the bystanders while deafening the populace and poisoning the air.  The Ferris wheel was hand-welded and screeching loudly above the noisy generator, a rusty heap that spewed black smoke and was shaking so much that it seemed it would fall apart or blow up at any moment.  So of course we had to go on it.  The boys went in one car and the girls went in another.  The operator unloaded us after one turn but left the girls on for at least 3 so that they were queasy when they did disembark.  We ate huge wafers of some kind of sugar-rice bread that tasted like fortune cookie as we headed home into the night.   21 October 2002 E-mail "Re:":  I just got back from Phnom Phen, the capital city, where I had to go with some people to pick up medical supplies.  The road was horrendous, being mostly dirt with ditches across it, and it took about 10 hours going each way.  I have to admit that I was a tad disappointed that the city wasn't crawling with dudes wearing AK-47's strapped across their backs as it is infamous for.  Good for safety, bad for stories.  Phnom Phen is notorious for people carrying AK's on their backs but the government banned firearms (except for people in the ruling party, of course) because of some important international meeting in the city.  Missed Kodak moment of the trip: a basket full of fried tarantulas at the "Russian Market".  We stayed outside the city at Jon's other house for 3 nights where he has a huge cage with 3 gibbons in it.  Pretty chill.  Gibbons a can be nice and want to play with you.  Anyways, there is a massive thunderstorm by the sounds of it outside about to break so I'm gonna make a dash for the house.  Peace.     2 November 2002 Brett, Sarya and I went to a party for the 58th b-day of the father of a girl named Sina who is prospectively bethrothed to one of the Japanese dentists who left two weeks ago; Sina also went  to the Tonle Sap with us that epic day not long ago... As the party was winding down we got in a cake fight, ok more like a cake smearing fight... after getting frosting (the stuff tastes like and is the consistency of pure Crisco) in my beard I decided to cut it off, which was the first thing I did when I got back.  Buzzing off the beard in my bathroom I was thinking of Thomas Merton and how that was how he died- electrocuted while shaving in a bathroom in Asia.  I hardly recognize myself.   11 November 2002 Soon-to-be-famous Quotes: For most men, a transaction with a prostitute is the most honest relationship they will ever have with a woman. -an expat cynically reflecting on the cultural acceptance of prostitution in Cambodia "You're quite the gentleman."  "At one point you're either an a**hole or a gentleman."  "I'm always the a**hole." -conversation  at the What? "You have a nose bleed?  No worry, cutting off your pants is standard procedure.  As a matter of course." -Pepe Frich, Canadian paramedic extraordinaire 12 November 2002 Yesterday went to a rained-out sunset at the corner Angkor Thom temple with Brett, Sarya, Sara (AHC nurse from Canada), and the Canadians: Pete (a.k.a. Pepe Frich), Martin, Lauraley and Tanya.  I rode with Brett while the rest doubled-up on moto-dops.  Of course, they all pulled over when the temple road copy whistled them down.  They had to bribe the cops 3,000 R (about 75 cents US) per moto, which they had to put in a book the cop opened in front of them, despite the fact that the temples are free after 5 o'clock... too bad they didn't have cigarettes on them.  Of course, the skies opened up as we passed under Angkor Thom so we all waited out the rain (and unfortunately the sunset as well) under a half-thatched half-tin roofed vendor's stall. "Anything else you guys have planned for tonight so we can tag along and ruin it?" Brett asked the Canadians whom we were supposed to be showing a staggering sunset. We later met up with the merry Canuck at Little India, where they were stuffed with Geehta's cooking.  Pepe & Martin played off each other and Brett.  They brainstormed business plans for Siem Reap: tying brushes to the sagging teats of the mangy dogs and marching them down the street to sweep up the building dust, a hot-tub tuktuk, cornering the market by buying enough monk garb for all future Halloween's, ever. After Little India everyone else was sucking wind so they headed for the sack and Brett was to meet me at the What? (after dropping off Sarya) to see what new characters were in town.  The What? was packed as it usually is of late.  This is the high tourist season because it is cooler and much much drier.  The only free seat was at the very end of the bar next to a very drunk man.  Juan, as I'll call this man, was apparently in town on a friend's invitation and couldn't stop gushing about her.  "We are good friends, her and me.  I am from Portugal where her old boyfriend is from.  That is how I know my friend.  But we are just friends, you know?  There is not something wrong with that, you know, nothing more even though she is woman and me man.  You know?  I have a wife.  She is here [points next to him at a plump and pasty 30-ish English woman who is absorbed in talking to the mustached middle-aged man next to her]."  I doubted him for a moment or longer until I saw a sign that she acknowledged him as existing, at which point I was more than ready to concede that they were betrothed. As I was cornered at the end of the bar I cound not get away, only raise my glass when I caught a friendly and familiar face at the other end of the bar.  Sue (the Oxford educated classical flutist) was with her man and I thought, "How ironical that I toast to her happiness and she toasts to my torture." Juan mixed his local language with English and drunkspeak so that all I could do was read him and give him the occasional grunt or nod when he asked for it.  I could have sworn that at one point he told me he went into the middle of the street and someone kissed him on the lips.  He then asked me if he should tell his wife.  How do you answer that question coming from a bar acquaintance of only an hour? 13 November 2002 Last night stayed in and watched a VCD on the laptop in Brett's room.  Afterwards finished rereading a book I hadn't picked up in years, then started a book of Tolkien's unfinished tales that I had brought with me. 13 November 2002 E-mail "Of the 3rd S and a Boom-boom":  thanks ever so much for the excellent (and concise) update on the state of affairs, which is especially appreciated since you know that nobody tells me anything "from the outside" point of view and it's damn near impossible to sort out the broken mirror that so many pieces reflect... latest news: i may not be going to Manila for Christmas because it's very bad for us americanos there as of the moment... so, i may be in Siem Reap for a while longer and may venture to Thailand to see the beaches instead... just got a shave at one of the many barber-brothels... got shaved with a NEW razor by the barber then one of the "broken girls" handed me a SEALED cold towel for my face and asked "you want massage boom-boom?" no, thank you miss or, as they say here, ot chong te lok srey... my house mates are getting engaged in a week in the traditional Cambodian way- which, among other things, involves an exchange of about 7kg of fresh fruits... i'm spending the next week on this INSANE dirt bike trip up into the northeast jungles to see the "hill people" that speak some dead and unknown ancient dialect... apparently they used to not wear any clothes or only loin cloths, even the women, but then the protestant and fundamentalist missionaries came in and made this huge ruckus so that a compromise was reached- all the women now wear bras and nothing else... it is in such small ironies that the clash of the cultures seems best... maybe i can get the mormons to buy a shipment of victoria's secret lingerie and have it shipped over for the naked forest people, and then get thanked by the mormons!  now i'm off for my long lunch and to shower... 15 November 2002 I'm about to embark on a one week dirt bike adventure into the jungles of the northeast on the corner of Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam.  We're going to the most remote region of Cambodia- Rattana Kiri- to see the "hill people" who are still living in the jungle like they're on National Geographic (actually, I think they were on NG).  It should be an adventure that will yield many stories, and I hope most of them will be good.  Lately I've been very busy at work and working hard at play, going out to more festivals and parties and outings than I ever did back at home.   17- 22 November 2002 On a week-long dirt bike trip to Cambodia's most remote province- Rattana Kiri.  Below is my travel journal.  Some days are missing when I had food poisoning and didn't have it in me to write. Transcription of Rattana Kiri Journal   Sunday 17 November 2002 -         5:15 AM:  Brett wakes me.  Sedtha called the cell phone to wake me. -         5:20 AM:  Have everything packed and realize have no time for shower and only have 2 long-sleeved shirts.  Wait, I forgot one at the hospital.  An auspicious start. -         5:25 AM:  Da and Pol come to gate. -         5:35 AM: We’re off!  Three dirtbikes in the convoy.  So begins the Pink Pillow and Prestigious Space Crown’s journey into the land that time forgot. -         9:00 AM: Started off following the morning star as dawn breached the sky.  We stop for breakfast at restaurant.  Pol ate a whole turtle and its eggs.  I tried both- tasted just like chicken.  So far our moto overheated, and Pol & I await Sedtha who got a flat tire.  Problems thus far: our moto overheated, Sedtha’s moto has a flat, caught air… twice.  100 km/h on the good roads and 10 km/h on the bad.  Like motocross.  Picture of Angkor bridge still in use. -         11:30 AM:  Stopped 2/3 of wat from Capung Thom to Capung Chom.  Whole village’s kids are out and staring at the Barang.  Sedtha said I was probably the 1st they’ve seen [up close]. -         1:30 PM:  Stopped for sugarcane drink.  Just went through worst part yet- covered in mud.  Cham Ka Laoen District Town (T’nol Bombay Commune).  Again, I have an audience but older kids too.  Helmet visor broke- it will be missed.  Dist and dirt make my arms red. -         ~ 3:30 PM:  Capung Cham.  Meet Marin & Sakhem [with his nephew BoRa on back].  Suddenly nice, lined roads appeared as we entered the city.  Camera battery died after taking picture of the turtles on the half shell. -         ~5:15 PM:  On the ferry across the Mekong.  Took my first shift driving for ~1 hr when the roads got better, but I was falling behind the pack so we switched back to Pol, which was good because the roads again quickly deteriorated.  Wile driving at ~60 km/h almost lost it when a jump suddenly came up and threw the bike towards a drainage ditch.  Luckily I was able to bring the moto under control barely in time. -         After dark:  Stopped b.c. Sedtha’s wife fell off and hurt her leg.  I have almost fallen off several times- sometimes b.c. Pol doesn’t wait for me to set down on the back and other times b.c. unseen ditches in the middle of the road (often with water or mud at the bottom) pop out of nowhere.  Actually, Sedtha’s wife got hurt where some foreigners would have been killed. -         ILLUSTRATION -         8:30 PM:  After getting lost several times (the road isn’t quite as straight as on the map) our travel-stained road warriors arrive at their destination- Chlong, Tro Chet Province.  Took a picture of mymuddy face and bleary eyes.  Balls of mud are at the edges of my eyes.  A good bucket shower and complimentary piece of soap are heaven-sends.  My pillow took a beating, but has outlasted the day. -         Dinner: Everything was closed but Marin found food somewhere: pickled somethings and “gallos”- chicks of a certain gestation still in their eggs.  I passed on the gallos and stuck to num pan, water and that beef jerky Pol brought.   Monday 18 November 2002 -         Sedtha said that I will learn to drive fast on bad roads today.  Am a bit uncertain as to how I’ll perform, but I reckon I asked for it.  -         The guest house is in sight of the Mekong and has no English name.  -         Restaurant served rice & Chicken and Rick & pork… had rice & pork.  -         And we’re back in the saddle again! -         Morning +1:  We soon hit a ferry crossing to get across a Mekong tributary (there is a bridge in thw works, but not very far along).  Very soft clay on banks & teamwork to get across. -         1st big injury- somehow Sedtha sliced his whole shin open.  Dressed it then back to the ??? [trip]. -         ~12:00 PM:  Stopped in big town (Kra Che) paved roads.  Got helmet visor fixed at shop so now am back in the driver’s seat.  Lunch is at the side of the road.  Bought a 7 Up w/ no assistance, speaking only Khmer.  For lunch is rice (as always), roast chicken, and snails.  I ate 2 of the snails which are from the rice fields- not bad. -         Before had to stop driving for a while b.c. couldn’t see w/ so much dust and no vidor.  Now problem fixed. -         There were just two strange looking bugs on this notebook- one, an inchworm w/ a disproportionally big head and the second a cross between a louse & a scorpion. -         ILLUSTRATION -         ILLUSTRATION -         The best part of this traveling is when we pass through a village and the children come out to cheer.  Knots of children, sometimes it seems like the whole town, will come out after the first moto roars through, then they cheer on the rest.  I believe they think we’re in a race, especially since at where we got food last night they asked what our racing #’s were. -         Mid-afternoon somewhere between nowhere and Rattana Kiri:  Well, I wiped out bad a while back.  It just kicked out when I downshifted on fist-sized stones.  Got my knee bandaged then got right back on.  Kickstand spring came off so we tied it w/ a string.  Then 2nd gear decided to stop working for ½ hour for some reason.  Finally caught up.  55km from Kro Chet, Sryai Sbeaup name of town -         Marin took a spectacular spill when he went airborne in front of us.  Bt he’s OK except for a rip in jeans. -         Owner of establishment has longest mole hairs I’ve ever seen -         ILLUSTRATION -         NB:  Pol kept saying something while I was driving that I couldn’t figure out… something about the middle of the road.  Then I understood “mine.”  “Are there mines in the middle of the road?”  “No, red flags are mines.”  Oh, so those pretty little red strips of cloth every 200 feet ro so are really mines.  The cute thing is that may have fallen off and been blown into the road, so they don’t comfort me too much.  Result: Can’t go off road to pee. -         Have 2 blisters on R hand already. -         Later:  Shadows lengthening.  Stopped for a soda at roadside stand.  Have seen 2 details w/ pickup & surveying equipment & guards w/ AK’s & M-16’s [I think].  Why do they need them?  Should we [have them too]? -         Everyone has souvenirs -         Later:  Marin fell again so we stopped for a break.  Blister on L hand too.  Sedtha thinks we’re 2/3 there. -         Sunset:  Lost again.  Asking directions from a local, who drove up w/ his baby on the front of the moto & a turtle claw, w/ internals attached, in his clutch hand. -         N:  Most of the trees along the road are 2nd growth after the Vietnamese.  We’re at an intersection of a “road to jungle” i.e. a logging road to deforest the jungle that escaped the Vietnamese (presumably) -         ~8:30 PM:  Finally here, although to be honest I don’t know where here is.  All I know is that we left the Mekong around mid-day and have struck out roughly NE.  The “hotel” we have is la casa sleezy.  When I was tucking in the mosquito net I found an open box of condoms. -         [Dinner:  We all ate at hotel restaurant.  Had deer, reindeer, turtle, and the famous fish of the town in a soup which was really excellent.] -         All night:  Woke up, threw up many times, didn’t sleep a wink. -         Remember Sedtha’s story about elephant hunting- stayed up in a tree.  E walks into trap.  Shoot w/ elephant gun.  Prepare to eat by cutting meat * leaving out for ants to get into before cooking.  Since the ants are poisonous the acid from the poison makes the meat citrusy and spices and chili make the meat very hot.  Initially, it is eaten raw then to preserve the rest it is rolled in ash. -         Remember Marin’s story about how he escaped Cambodia during the Pol Pot regime.  Orphaned, alone, bullets and mortar shells everywhere.  Walking a day and a night alone.  Making it to Thailand.  Then to Boston then LA.  Shot at twice in LA.  Recently jumped by jacked colored dude on drugs expressing anti-Asian sentiments.   Tuesday 19 November 2002   -         Morning:  Threw up water tried to drink, weak. -         Too sick and miserable to write whole day [so am writing in retrospect]…  still feeling sick and not able to eat all day until some bread at dinner and soda.  Headache like brain is loose in my skull and being traumatized at every jolt.  Dehydrated. -         Passed through some beautiful country that looked like the first dinosaur plain scene in Jurassic Park.  Saw a handful of men w/ rifles.  Rain.  Stopped under a tin roof to wait it out- cute piglets fighting w/ chickens for scraps of garbage.  All the kids are “terminally cute” (as Jon says). -         When we stop, I take my pink pillow and lay in the road in the shade.  Several times we stopped for a long time when Sakhem fixed some random person’s moto or pumped their tire.  If not for him they’d be up a creek w/o a paddle. -         For most of the afternoon we pass no places to buy drink or gas and both people and motos are thirsty.  I have stopped sweating and fear am close to heat exhaustion. -         The now wet road becomes very slick because it is of some red clay.  For a long time we don’t get out of 2nd gear. -         Arrive at crossroads & took picture.  Rattana Kiri ~1 km away.  Spirits high. -         Arrive in RK.  Good, v. wide roads and real power lines.  Drive for ~1/2 hr to find hotel.  Settle on v. clean hotel $5/night. -         Dinner across street after v. nice cold shower. -         At dinner the restraint TV started showing “The Killing Fields.”  Sakhem, the old man, sat across the table from me and began telling me about his time in the army- how he killed Viet Cong.  Apparrently, he would get 5,000 R for every VC head he brought to his commander.  He said he would use a knife to cut their throats from behind and then laughed, stopping abruptly and awkwardly.  He kept saying that he knew the situation well in Cambodia, and he seemed to.  He fought from ’70- ’75 w/o stop.  He fought on the same battlefield as Sedtha (who I was told fought in over 50 battles- the tattoos must really work).  He is fluent in French, Khmer and fair in English.  During the war, an ABC camera crew filmed him in battle.  He is now 58 and has lived a vewy full life w/ no signs of slowing down. -         After dinner went to see the night life w/ Marin.  Dead for the most part except for an empty Disco and a concert.  We went to the concert and walked about the venders and gambling games.  Then we met Pol & each took our own bike & just driver around before ending up at the Disco we were at before.  Now there were maybe 10 Khmer there singing karaoke and dancing like madmen.  Soon left and hit the hay. -         Marin & Pol went back out; I understand that they convinced the waitress to give them a massage.   Wednesday 20 November 2002 -         Drove to Crater lake a few km outside RK [see map].  Saw tribal museum/cultural center & we all dressed up in tribal clothes (not much).  We then went walking about w/ crossbows and took some pictures, which will be promptly destroyed. -         Saw 2 [30ish] British sisters going for a swim- one just came from Afghanistan where she was doing emergency relief work.  Marin after said, “I liked to see those girls swimming and laying in the sun.  Sometimes it’s good to be naughty, you know.” -         Saw “first wedding night house” near Crater Lake- high ??? built like chicken coop ~25 feet up where tribal couples spend first betrothed night.  “If the house is a rocking, don’t come a knocking.” -         A German man I met by the lake said he saw a “mouse deer” ~18 in tall on the other side. -         ~11:30 AM:  Stopped right after leaving Crater Lake b.c. Sedtha’s bike conked out.  Trying to start it, the bike’s exhaust is white smoke.  It backfired & spit oil all over me.  Ha!  Well, there goes my one pair of dress pants. -         Shortly after:  Waiting w/ Sedtha, wife & daughter (Bun-Tee) & Pol in cluster of hill ppl houses.  Pigs are walking about looking for food.  Two girls just walked by w/ gig wicker packs on their backs. -         A litter further along:  They pushed Sedtha’s bike up a hill and now we are waiting, I presume for Sakhem to fetch a mechanic from the town.  Across form where we are waiting is another chicken coop on stilts -         ILLUSTRATION -         Sedtha told me that these are where young girls sleep until they are married.  Up they go and then the ladder is taken away every night.  No need for a curfew with arrangements like that… unless there are tribal Rapunzels.  Apparrently in each village there is only one “first wedding night house” that is very tall, but there are many “curfew coope” which are much shorter ~10-15 feet. -         N:  Still no bra-wearing tribals, but I did see one with a milky eye. [at the food hut]. -         On way back from Crater Lake saw Zimbabwe man who we’ve been leapfrogging w/ the whole trip -         Later:  Sakhem fixed Sedtha’s moto.  I had Jon’s moto to myself to drive to the hill ppl.  Upon arriving in town find must take ferry up river to see “real” rural ppl. -         While Marin & I were having a sugarcane drink a big branch from a tall coconut tree crashed down not 10 feet away.  “That wouldda done a bit of damage, especially since I didn’t have my Prestigious Space Crown on.” -         Locals speak different dialect & our party can’t understand them -         + 1 hour:  Just got off ferry boat- v. thin but w/ shallow draft & gasoline engine.  We’re ducking under a local’s house to get out of the sudden rain, which is picking up minute by minute as the light dims.  We are surrounded by small children, who are inspecting us w/ curious eyes. -         Shortly after:  Now we’ve been invited into the house and here I sit.  Our hosts have brought out a glazed jar with “traditional wine” in it and a giant straw to sip it from the bottom with.  The first thing I saw when I peeked in was a pretty 12-ish YO girl in a one-piece sarong.  I think she is in the house under watch until she is married. -         Just sipped the traditional wine offered to us by Soth- the lady of the house.  Tastes like Japanese sake.  Soth said she speaks 7 languages & dialects, probably enough for trading only though. -         I wish I had brought some candy for the children to show my appreciation w/o being patronizing by giving money. -         ILLUSTRATION -         The open well in the front yard is ~30 m deep.  There are fishhooks and a knife hanging from the wall.  Dirty sheets cover the doorways.  In the back of the main room something is being cooked. -         ILLUSTRATION -         Late:  After the rain let up to a drizzle went straight back to the boats, which the drivers bailed out.  Dark driving back & no lights save one fire on the banks.  I drove back to the hotel alone on the XLR.  The road back was v. slick clay due to the rain.  I fell once (2 times total) when down-shifting on a flat- the gentlest fall possible… just slid on the slick clay.  Only got a scrape.  Bong Srey, of all things, took some gauze & stuffed it in the gas tank.  Oops, low on gas- nice to know that now.  She says that gasoline cuts down inflammation.  We came to a big tree that fell into the middle of the road.  We all teamed up and rolled it out of the road [diagram].  I felt better about my little spill when Pol, w/ Sedtha on back, fell twice gently (not that I felt good that they fell, mind you).  Rest of ride uneventful.  Promptly to shower & sleep after looking at sapphires in display case.  Sakhem had fallen too, badly… worse so far.  I walked into his room to see the Sedtha’s tending his wounds- badly gashed shin… deep… elbow scrape, no helmet so bruised head… -             RN:  After being outside the box for so long it’s hard to think in terms of lines. RN:  I’m just sorry that the path of least resistance went straight through your heart. -         Rem: Life as a dirtbike trip   Thursday 21 November 2002 -         bought a wood vase & 9 "sapphires" before hitting the road- true, they're probably not real, but for what I payed for them they're worth it just because they're pretty rocks -  We are taking different roads back.  Saw fresh water dolphins in the Mekong. Friday 22 November 2002 -  When Pol was driving we were run off the road going way too fast.  We crashed off the road going ~70 km/h.  I was thrown a ways from the bike and the visor of my helmet split in half.  My jaw was numb and initially I was afraid I may have broken it.  I was spitting warm blood as I got to my feet and coughing up tiny hard things that I figured were my teeth.  After checking that Pol was not critical I ran my tongue on the inside of my teeth- all there, thank God.  Pol is in tough shape, though.  The bike landed on him and the foot peg slices through his heel bad.  He had to hitchhike to a medical clinic then will try to hitchhike back to Siem Reap.  Overall, we got off really well for a 70 km/h crash- we landed in sand and gravel, both our helmet visors broke from impact but I only got my face a little cut up, both our shoulders were scraped up but Pol got that worse than me, my left wrist was scraped up good as was the elbow, both of us had deep cuts in the knees that'll scar, but all the important things are intact.  As I was getting cleaned up by Bong Srey I saw an ox cart go by that we had earlier passed. Saturday 23 November 2002 -  Driving back on the bike alone again today.  Sakhem fixed the XLR oil filter by using a twig and a piece of rag from the side of the road.  He said the timing belt is going on the bike but hopefully it'll last 'til Siem Reap. -  We stopped for lunch at a famous mountain temple.  I walked up it and took a bunch of photos. -  The belt didn't last- about 2.5 hours out of SR the XLR refused to kick start.  Not even Sakhem could resurrect it so we left it and I hopped on the back with Sakhem.  We'll come back later in the week with a pickup for the bike and hopefully the mechanic can fix it. -  Arrive home late to find Sarya's extended Cambodian family as well as mother and sister are here.  Showered and slept soundly on my stomach.   24 November 2002 Brett & Sarya's engagement ceremony & party.  The ceremony was in our house and involved the trading of fruit and compliments.  The ensuing party involved a karaoke machine on our porch, tables with food and drink, and a good time had by all.  27 November 2002 E-mail "Re:":  I'm definitely digging the scene, but it will also be good to be back home in the States when my time here is spent.  I just went on a dirt bike trip- don't tell mom though, she'll freak out and get mad at me- you wouldda been proud.  We took 250 cc Honda's (mine was borrowed from my boss and was an XLR if that means anything).  2 people to a dirt bike and we took 5 dirt bikes for a week.  It was crazy.  I dare say that I'm now a decent dirt bike driver, having wiped out a few times and having the scars from learning the hard way.  We went up to see these hill people that live in the jungle and spent about 10 hours a day driving.  The roads are more fun and more dangerous than any motocross track you could imagine and they went from clay to loose dirt to packed dirt to gravel to a track in the jungle.  We'd catch air a few times a day and everyone wiped out on average about once a day.  Along a lot of the roads are red flags telling you that you're going through a mined area.  Anyways, got to run... Have fun on Thanksgiving w/o me and eat some turkey for me.  I'm going to be at the temples having a Thanksgiving picnic on the other side of the world.   E-mail "Re:":  just writing to let you know that i narrowly survived that one week trip up into the remotest part of Cambodia, barely... along the way got food poisoning and wiped out going 70 km/h and damn near died... pretty darn cool... the other guy who was on the bike with me had it worse and is on crutches and could not finish the trip and the bike itself is undergoing major repairs as it came back on a twig and twine, literally (well, in actuality it never made it back but only to a few hours outside of siem reap)... have a happy turkey day... oh, the stories that are told when all is safe p.s. check out the new look 28 November 2002 Thanksgiving.  We packed a cooler with ice and drinks in the back of Jon's truck and headed out for a Thanksgiving feast on grass mats by the Elephant Terrace.  I drove Mieko's moto with Sarya's sister Nila on the back.  When we arrived we slapped down the grass mats, threw on the food, and enjoyed a fine feast.  The role call included Dr. Bob and his wife Nancy out of Vermont, Jon, Mieko, baby Ricki, Chun Ti, Brett, Sarya, Sarya's mom, Nila, Ra, and Buster and Bruiser.  There was food a plenty, though I've never eaten rice before at Thanksgiving dinner and the chickens we ate were scrawny and on bamboo spits- but there were a lot of them and they were pretty darn tasty.  When night fell we brought out candles and continued into the night.  The backdrop was a dozen ruined temples surrounded by scaffolding and the Elephant Terrace, a massive raised walkway with elaborate carvings all along its side.  But all candles eventually wane. December 2002 This was written by an anonymous young expat friend; try not to be put off by the local political references. The Grinch in Cambodia In late-breaking news, the Grinch’s nephew Grimbold has met with Cambodian Prime Minister Hun Sen and top CPP party members  to file a formal petition to stop Christmas in Cambodia.  Although Hun Sen has not yet publicly declared his decision, reliable sources close to the Prime Minister say that he has set upon a policy: if protestors come out over the issue they will be labeled as rioters who have been incited by Funcipec, the UN Human Rights commission, and various unspecified NGO’s; when the police are sent in there will be a spontaneous mass tripping of the protestors resulting in a few score of injuries; the mass trippings will then be attributed to disgruntled Christmas elves tying people’s shoe laces together, laying the groundwork for the government to pass formal laws banning Christmas to protect the people.  In response, Dr. Beatocello Richner of Kanta Bohpa hospital has taken out full page ads in the Cambodian Daily, declaring that if anyone is going to bring Christmas to Cambodia it would have to be him because before he came there was no Christmas and after all it isn’t a child’s fault to be born in Cambodia where they have no Christmas and won’t you deposit your money into my Swiss bank account? Grimbold’s statement to the Prime Minister went thus: How, I ask and an answer demand, could Christmas come to Cambodia Where instead of snow we have sand? The jungle has ruins and many pretty scenes, But, to put it to you, Could coconuts replace evergreens? It’s a sin and a crime to let this slide by.  And by “this” I mean Christmas, Just let me tell you why: To start it’s not Kosher, profoundly un-right, To put our Lord Savior out in the dark night.  No, a Christmas needs lights, 10,000 watts to a yard, for by such a sign the Three Wise Guys would find finding Siem Reap not all that hard.  Humph, you may puff, being clever and learned, The babe slept in hay While above the star burned.  Come now and use what noodles are under your dome, would you bed the Christian God where water buffalo roam? And next think of Santa, so ruthless and red, don’t for a second believe those Christmas cookies have gone to his head.  He’s had a contract with Hallmark for many a year And when it comes down to it he will brook no peer.  Santa sees copyright loopholes with twinkling eye clarity- Buddha’s jelly belly bears enough similarity.  Hallmark would put Buddha on cards and deck him in red, throw in some reindeer and a cap on his head.  Then they’d put him in green and crown him with holly; to bypass copyrights they’d call him Father Christmas, the Jolly ™ (the Father Christmas gig would then be Santa’s moonlighting folly).  And that would spell the end of Santy Claus Inc., and inevitably Santa would turn back to the drink.  Because aside from the money, stardom and the rest, Santa the elf is Santa the Claus because Alcoholics Anonymous thought it was best.  A fierce thirst made him move his elf gang to the North Pole, where he could drink his White Russians cold without ice cubes- that was the goal.  To this day when he’s been boozing his cheeks turn bright red and he beats some pointy eared elves then drives drunk in his sled.  Which is why Rudolph the first was put in the fore, but with so many sleigh accidents Santa is now on Rudolph number 4.  So for one night of the year- Christmas Eve of them all- AA and a federal judge convinced Santa to drive without drinking, or at least without alcohol.  But Santa was twinkle eye sneaky as he deviously planned- I’ll drink White Russians without the vodka… enough of them and I’m sure to get canned.  Which is why to this day every Christmas Eve night Santa asks us to leave out milk and cookies, which are gone with the light.  So, unless you want the Claus coming and bringing the pain, with crack commando elf troopers, I would refrain- stop Christmas right now, what is there to gain? No little Khmer girls or Khmer boys Are thinking and dreaming of holiday joys.  Of sugar-drops or plum pudding or Sugar Plum Fairies. Ahem... To conclude, Christmas is for the Christians’ Lord And Christmas is a day Cambodia just can’t afford. 16 December 2002 E-mail "Thai fighters and burning at both ends":  I've been very bad at keeping touch over the past month and a half due to a few factors, some beyond my control such as a lightning strike that knocked out the internet antennae and meant no email for almost 3 weeks, some within my control such as being gone a week on a wild dirt bike trip into the remotest parts of Cambodia, and some being an odd mixture such as having to make some digital PR stuff that is (as we speak) being whisked over to teeming hordes in Vermont, NYC, Japan, and Australia (actually, I put together an auto-starting interactive CD-ROM with a PowerPoint presentation, a virtual tour of the town, the volunteer orientation guide, and a few other things on it together.  It will be mailed to all prospective volunteers from now on all over the world and the PowerPoint will be used for FWAB people who are giving talks on the hospital).  Of course the PR stuff was on computers and required (to meet deadlines and my type-A attention to detail) many nights alone at the hospital working single-mindedly as a solitary Minister of Information.  But I turned out some stuff that can pass, if I may be so bold, as professional quality productions.  Turning the dark side that Merrill Lynch taught me to the good.  I'll show it to you when I get back and, trust me, you'll be in tears and ready to sign over your house to the children of Cambodia.   Last week we got several unexpected visitors.  What would you say if I told you that Miss Universe stopped by our little hospital in the middle of the jungle?  Well, she did... how odd.  Promoting de-mining or something like that, carrying on the work of PD.  Then I ran into a bunch of Army folks who were looking for some kind of jungle hospital to send some Army docs to for training.  They settled on us and we should be getting a few crew-cut docs in soon, as well as some old Army medical equipment (the pay-off). Thanks for the brief synopsis of the people of the circle... very to the point.  I have to say that I've been feeling hampered in keeping up with people because I just lose inspiration when I think of dashing off a two line note to them... so what I've been finding myself doing is putting off replies until I have sufficient time and inspiration to do something that merits their time to read it, but to say the least I've found myself running short on both (time and inspiration) as I stretch myself at the hospital. Hence, I have run behind and have just been responding to emails that have been sent to me.  Somehow I've been finding myself just as busy as if I were back at school with about 26 things (off the top of my head) on the burner, things that nobody else will do if I don't. Last night we saw a low-scale kickboxing match in the middle of a field where they set up a ring.  Pretty darn impressive- 2 TKO's out of 6 matches.  Tonight there are going to be female kick boxers, including a few Thai fighters as I'm told.  I'll be going with my housemate Brett, this British dude Julian, and a Harvard-med trained doc at the hospital.  Promises to be interesting, both in terms of company and the event itself.... Off to see sunset at the temples.   19 December 2002 E-mail "Update on Siem Reap folks": I hope you're enjoying the holiday season and are not missing the snow too much (my hometown has about a foot of it now and looks to be having a white Christmas *<|:o)E Update on the folks in Siem Reap: J-'s final hurrah was last night... he ended up passed out on the bar itself... famous quotes- "That's what Sambuca does to you, G-- damn it!"- J-... "We've all been there before." "And we'll probably be back again before long."- old tourist dudes at the What? (one of whom was a dead ringer for Jerry Garcia) in reference to J-'s state... asked how he was doing, he replied simply "Criiiippling, man"... he vows to return for "mushroom season" a.k.a. the wet season... this weekend is the big hospital Christmas/Western New Year's party at Sedtha's farm that involves killing a fattened calf (which carries a biblical air but is decidedly un-Kosher) and a day of insanity for the "beer-sucking slackers", as you might say)...  in late-breaking news, the Grinch has filed a formal complaint about Christmas in Cambodia (more to follow) Diggin the pace   24 December 2002 Christmas Eve.  Not much in the ways of Christmas spirit around town, in fact none at all unless it's in an expat's house or at an expat bar.  The lack of commercialism has its own appeal; still, I miss the smell of cinnamon and crushed pine needles.  But that didn't get me down. After dinner was a Christmas party at one of the AHC expat's houses.  We sat on the porch in candle light and sipped mulled wine.  Most of the hospital expats were there- Larry the "epidemiologist etc." who had donned a paper crown with his wife, Robyn the exuberant Australian lab director, Pyai the Burmese doctor who always looked at you like he had just told you a dirty joke, Alex the cheerful CB coordinator and her nice boyfriend Mick up from Phnom Phen, Brett and Sarya who had the giggles, Sara the chill Canadian nurse and two of her friends- Pepe Frich the traveling EMT and young Luke the rock climber, and Erika the British med student who was also racking up chill points.  Good folks all around making something special out of the "mixing [of] memories with desire" by the impulse to give that the Yuletide calls.  Or maybe it was the mulled wine. I should mention here that I'm happy for the Yuletide package my family sent over with Sarya's mother.  Yes, yes there was a manger we put in the Temple of Teddy and some gifts and a really neat pen that had a mini version of the Milton-Bradley game "Operation" on it, but by far the best thing for getting into the spirit was the tacky felt reindeer horns that clip on to your head.  Not only are they really big, but they have red LED lights that blink and blink and blinkblinkblink while a tiny speaker hidden in the ear pumps out Jingle Bells at a frequency set to disorient any bats in a one mile radius.  So I donned the horns and headed to the What? with Brett and Erika.  Miranda had somehow found tinsel to deck the walls with and Christmas lights for the tap and Santa hats that were given away.  Shortly the number of bats flying into the bar became disruptive.  I reached onto the top of my head and gave the reindeer ear a twist to break the connection to the speaker, but I kept blink blink blinking the rest of the night. E-mail "Update": I thought I'd give you an update on what's been going on since you left: Miss Universe visited the hospital (I think as some kind of de-mining campaign), which created quite a stir.  The staff was all really excited and all the girls dressed up in wat clothes; Jon had an ear-to-ear grin the whole time he was showing her around. We threw Brett a surprise birthday party and had real apple pie from the Sofitel (amazing, especially with some cinnamon that Sara brought with her from Thailand).  As you can see in the picture, it was a good old time.  The party ended with a food fight where everyone started smearing what was left of the lemon meringue pie in each other's face.  Sara took a week trip out to one of the northern provinces, the name of which now eludes me, but it is the one where they eat those big tarantulas. This past weekend was the hospital Christmas/ New Year's party at Sedtha's farm.  It was really really hot.  There was, of course, a karaoke machine set up, a lot of funny games like trying to pop balloons that are tied to other's people's ankles without getting your own popped, palm wine by the 15 gallon drum, and the roasting of the fattened calf (which carries a Biblical air but is decidedly un-Kosher).  It was a very low key day for those of us who skipped the palm wine but those who hit it hard got hit back.  Rumor has it, and I don't know how much truth there is to it, that the palm wine is fast-fermenting, so much so, in fact, that if you drink soda when you have the wine in your stomach it will turn your GI track into a distillery; the yeast culture is so active that it will convert any sugar that is introduced into alcohol.  Whether that is the fact of the matter or not, a lot of people were lying on their backs by the end of the day and not from heat exhaustion.   25 December 2002 Quote of the day: "How did it get so late so soon? Midnight comes before it's noon. December is here before June. My how the time has flewn. How did it get so late so soon?" -Dr. Seuss Got up early and spent the day with Brett, Sarya, Mieko, Jon and Rikki picnicking at Jon's farm.  Hammocks truly are one of life's least appreciated pleasures.  And Jon really does have the simple pleasures here figured out. A day of leisurely picking at food while we swung in hammocks.  A day too laid back for verbs.  I headed back and had a really enjoyable dinner with Erika the British med student; she did an elective rotation in Sri Lanka and was at AHC for a few days.  The same age as me and she's finishing up with medical school before I've even begun, and she even took another degree.  To kick it off she seems less stressed than I imagine myself being.  You'll be an old man by the time you're through residency.  Tell me about it, but it didn't seem that bad- being able to go into private practice if I choose in my early 30's- until I met med students from overseas who start med school right after high school.  I guess my liberal arts degree is useful though- you can't underestimate the value of keeping busy, and I've found that I can endlessly amuse myself speculating on all sorts of things.  Jack of all trades and master of none am I. I had made a rather last-minute decision to make a last-minute decision.  Sara and Pepe and Luke were heading to Bangkok by land via Poipet and invited me to tag along.  So, I decided that if I got up and was so inspired I would buy a ticket at 6:30AM for the 7:00AM bus to the border.  And if fate would have it I might run into Erika again because she too was taking a bus to Bangkok the next day. 26 December 2002 Made one of the busses to Bangkok and sat with my Canadian friends.  Things got interesting an hour out of Siem Reap. E-mail "*<|:o)E Bangkok b-day" .... I arrived in Bangkok, Thailand a few hours ago and they have internet access all over here.  On the bus from  Siem Reap (where I've been living and working) there was a bridge out so we (we being a Canuk nurse from the hospital and two of her friends from back in Alberta, Canada) left behind the bus and trudged through rice paddies to get around the bridge.  That means we have to "de-worm" tomorrow by putting medication on our legs so the funky rice paddy skin worms won't grow.  We hitched a ride on the other side along with four very nice Norwegian girls and two old French dudes and a couple from Singapore... and that was just in the back of a pickup with a 6 foot bed and a driver who we believe to have been listening to the Rocky soundtrack, judging by his driving.   So, with a dozen people and all their backpacks we headed out and  had an interesting trip along the mostly dirt roads to Poipet on the Thai border (read: darn near fell off the pickup a bunch of times and my eyes are so full of dust that they're still watering and sitting ain't so comfortable).  From there we hopped a mini bus and came to Bangkok where we are staying at a cheap bunkhouse (about $1.50/night).  I just left  Kosan Road (the big backpacker's road full of neon lights and street stalls and performers).   The first thing you notice here is how much better off Thailand is than Cambodia: all paved roads, fat children, lots of cars, tall buildings...  I  haven't been on a real highway or seen a building above 4 stories in 4 months.  Heck, on Kosan Road they even  have a  7-11!@$!#@   So, things have been good but I apologize for not emailing more often- I've been having a hard time getting free time and internet access....  Merry Christmas to all and a Happy New Year!!!   10 January 2003 It all started when I ran into a Scotsman in spectacular form two nights ago, which is to say that he ran into the floor and I, being the only concerned patron left at the Angkor What? Bar (except for a Canadian named Kelly), went over to find him hiding his face in his arms whilst blood pooled about his head.  The 23 year old highlander had taken a rather impressive face plant after attempting a daring 180 degree turn-on-the-tile.  After conceding him time to "get my thoughts together and plan my next move" I finally convinced him that he could not stay on the floor bleeding and hiding his head until he healed, which could be hours if not longer and you want to be out and about back on the scene before that; the ladies won't be fans if you don't have your face taken care of.  He raised his head and I saw the damage: 2 inch cut on the supraorbital ridge, right through the eyebrow.  Didn't look that bad so I shoveled him into a tuktuk and followed him back to his guest house with the Concerned Canadian Kelly (whom I knew but was also a stranger to this man).  At the guest house I hauled the heap that was him up three flights of stairs to his room.  His rather dodgy room- littered with empty foil packs of valium, old roaches, a knockoff Red Hot Chili Pepper album on the bed (one of their first albums), a guitar in the corner and clothes scattered as if his backpack had spontaneously exploded.  As Kelly was rummaging to find his first aid kit she found a few opened boxes of condoms.  Super plus dodgy.  Found the kit and cleaned his wound; a lot worse under the fluorescent light than I had initially thought- definitely needed to be sewn up at the hospital.    While waiting for him to rest up for the trip back down the three flights (carrying someone up steep stairs is easy, carrying someone down is dangerous) we heard his story, and quite a tale it was.  "Basically, my friend and I ate 140 vali's over one week time, but he left go back Ireland and I not really sad, that not why I like this; just I ate 5 vali's before going bar tonight and 3 beer when I there".  He had apparently been on a week-long valium/opium/alcohol bender- I of course felt a little stupid that I had not immediately recognized the tell-tale signs of lost participles and the fear of declining the verb "to be", technically referred to as sumesestphobia.  He told us he had woken up two days ago thinking it was New Year's day but noticed something was awry; he remembered getting a shave the day before but he now had half a beard on his face.  To his surprise it was actually January 5 and he had lost 5 days in an opium-valium haze.  He had gotten into at least one moto accident while on this binge, as testified to by the scabs and bruises on his legs.  The last event he remembered before the haze set in was being arrested and handcuffed for getting in a street fight on New Year's eve then paying a $50 police bribe.   Then things got super double plus dodgy- a Khmer woman in jeans and a black Brittney Spears t-shirt walked into his small room.  Her name was Amum and was well known by the expat regulars at the What?- every few weeks like clockwork she would show up with a new Barang "boyfriend" who brought her from Phnom Phen to Siem Reap...  Her last patron had been the Irish partner-in-crime of our Scotsman, who was now ranting about "vali's" and opium and the greatness of the Red Hot Chili Peppers, but mind you only on their earlier albums because the new ones don't have the same energy and wailing guitars, except of course for a few tracks that are superb.  Amum, thinking she had found a soft head along with a soft heart, started laying on her Blanche Dubois shtick, you know- the one that goes "I have always relied on the kindness of strangers..." and I very sad my boyfriend left me go home Ireland; he gave me $30 to go back Phnom Phen but I went to bar and drank the money- and I was that sad... and now I have no money go back to my 2 babies in Phnom Phen... "It true" the Scott chimed with blood still trickling down his temple, "and I want give her all money but I only have money enough go Thailand... no ATM in Cambodia... she my friend girlfriend but he go home, now she need $25 go Phnom Phen but I have no money to give."   He was getting roused and took the only possible next illogical step: he switched the conversation to international politics asking me, as an American, how do you feel about the US Army giving weapons to the IRA?  Well, dude, that's the first I've heard of such a thing but I don't think the US is or ever has given weapons to the IRA, especially seeing as they are on the official list as a terrorist organization.  Ok, ok, but as an AMERICAN, how do you feel about the US Army GIVING weapons to the IRA?  Well, dude, I suspect your source may be wrong; I was in a "Troubles" peace simulation in DC a few years back and never found a hint of that in my research, even though I was representing the DUP and the right Rev Ian Paisley; where did you get your information?  Ok, ok, I understand I may not know everything... but as an American, how do YOU feel about the US Army giving weapons to the IRA?  Well, dude, to be honest I feel that as an American it's high time we get you to the hospital and get your head sewn back together.  Ok, ok, I very sorry, we go.  Then we went- the Concerned Canadian Kelly, Amum the forlorn, the Scotsman who would otherwise be bleeding in an alley and myself amid strange vibes.  Once again, I fetched a tuktuk and shoveled the dude into it.  At the hospital he passed out completely on the ER bed as the surgeon was paged to come in at 4 AM.  While Kelly and I waited we talked with Amum and learned that not only her feelings for the Irishman had betrayed her into drinking her ticket money, but indeed the whole world was set against her happiness.  And apparently all she did to deserve her lot was be born.   When the surgeon came we tried to rouse the Scot but he was dead to the world, so I vouched for him and asked the surgeon to do whatever he needed to.  The surgeon asked me What is his name?  A valid question, seeing as I was the one who brought him in.  But I never got his name.  Kelly didn't know it.  I asked Amum who had been living with him in his guesthouse and she said she thought it might be Bill.  We resolved to take his passport out of his belly bag; it was Richard.  Local anesthesia, four stitches, shovel into the tuktuk and like a sack of sand up three flights of stairs.  I tried to communicate the doctor's orders but wasn't sure what stuck.  So, I told Richard and Amum that I would come back tomorrow at 3 o'clock.   I returned and they were both still asleep.  Richard was more coherent and I could pass on the doctor's orders; he was going to Laos to read and play his guitar after getting money in Thailand; he'd had the bender of his life, he decided, and wasn't sure if he could survive any more of it.  I thought that was a good call.  Well, Richard, you came here to see the temples, what did you think of Angkor Wat?  To be perfectly honest, I wasn't that impressed.   I told Amum that I would buy her a ticket to Phnom Phen so she could go back to her children.  I could tell she would have been more pleased with $25- of course she would, the ticket only cost $5 for a Khmer and we both knew it.  Richard wanted to buy me a drink for helping him out so we met that night at the What? and had a drink.  Not surprisingly, Amum was also at the What? drinking $2 mixed drinks and wanting to talk to me.  She liked living in Siem Reap a lot and did not want to go back to Phnom Phen and found a guest house that was only $20 a month and she wanted to work a real job and so no need ticket and you can pay for my guest house?  Umm... no.  Why not?  You say you buy ticket but not for me get job?  Well, miss, I said I would buy ticket so you could go back to your 2 babies.  But they not live with me; they live in Sihounoeukville.  Then I can not help you miss.  Why not?  Because I do not pay for other people's guest houses.  That miffed her long enough for her quarry, a middle aged and slightly overweight Barang, to tell her it was her shot at the pool table.  Thankfully, she was so busy trying to get in with the big Barang that she must have forgot about me or decided the pudgy tourist would be easier to fleece.  That woman, she's like a leech Richard said.  The boy has eyes.   15 January 2003 I'll say it again, you meet a motley mess of people in a town like Siem Reap.  Today Ben Aflack of "Good Will Hunting" fame allegedly stopped into the ER at the hospital.  He was accompanying his friend who had been in a dirt bike or moto accident and was here to get patched up.  Jon, the Hospital Director, was making inspection rounds as usual in a Hawaiian shirt with his red hair back in a pony tail.  They had a brief conversation that went something like "Hi, I'm Ben Aflack [pause expectantly for reaction]"  "I'm Jon Morgan, the director of the hospital.  That's your friend on the stretcher?... [attention and conversation shifted to the patient]"  After, Jon asked Sarya if she knew of anyone famous named Ben Aflack- oh, of course she did.  Jon never heard of him. 25 January 2003 E-mail "Are mines in schoolyards even news in Cambodia?": Didn't know if it was news, but a land mine went off at the January 10 high school across the street from the Angkor Hospital for Children here in Siem Reap.  It went off around 3 PM when garbage or leaves were being burned in the school yard.  To my knowledge, there were no deaths or injuries.  The January 10 School, according to several people I've talked to, used to be a munitions depot or armory during the Pol Pot regime; the locals I talked to suspect that the mine was left over from that time and was set off by the heat from the fire.  I've heard two different ideas on what the mine type is and am not sure if they are compatible- one person said that it was a mine that looked like corn on the cob, another said that it was a 210 or 230 millimeter mine.  I do know that shrapnel has been found at least as far away as on the hospital grounds.  And the blast could be heard about a mile away (where I live).  Just thought I'd pass it on.  26 January 2003 E-mail "The Adventures of Sebastian Cole": I'm still in a bit of a daze because yesterday a mine went off across the street from the hospital- one of the big 210 mm ones, according to a hospital administrator.  Now I know that Cambodia has almost 8 million mines and around 70,000 people have already fallen casualty to them; and I really wasn’t fazed when driving through mine fields on a dirt bike en route to Rattana Kiri because the mine fields were marked and the road was supposedly clear.  It didn’t even disturb me to find out that mines are set off on the outskirts of town at least a half dozen times a year, or that the UN paid workers at the hospital are forbidden to go out into the villages because the insurance won’t cover mine accidents in non-certified mine-free areas.  But the hospital is in the center of Siem Reap which is supposedly one of the safest places in the country.  It came as a surprise.  The blast went off as the high school across the street was burning some garbage in the schoolyard; it was around 3 PM on a Saturday so there were no students in the yard and nobody got hurt, but if it had been another time there would have been a lot of dead kids and amputees.  In a little while I'm going looking for shrapnel- some of it landed in the hospital grounds. I'm glad you liked the story about the Scotsman.  With all of the new experiences and people I've been meeting here I've found it's actually harder to write because I'm just trying to digest all the input.  The things I hear and see, you just can’t make them up.  Like last night at the White House, where the expat volunteers stay.  A bunch of us got together to hang out and I was going to teach everyone “Cgateay”, a Cambodian cross between poker and high-low-jack: a Canadian nurse named Sara, two friends of a friend of hers who were touring, a middle aged Dutch guy who was staying at the guest house with the Canadian friends (once removed), an American nurse named Amber, a British midwife named Sarah, a Japanese nurse named Kazumi, and her Khmer boyfriend named Chamran.  Everyone was seated in a circle of assorted wicker chairs as I returned from the store with drinks.  Sara held out something to me that looked like a shard of chololate and, since chocolate is a rarity that expats crave to the point of obsession, I eagerly held out my hand to receive it, expending stores of will power not to snatch at it.  But it landed strangely heavy in my palm, like lead I thought, which gave me pause before throwing it down my gullet- and a good thing that was.  Although the top and bottom were smooth, the edges were very jagged.  Sara kept her eyes on me as she lowered her chin and raised her eyebrows expectantly.  She said in the metered and exaggerated voice that comes as second nature from 6 months speaking to the Cambodian medical staff, "Do you know what it is?"  My face fell- it apparently wasn’t Belgian chocolate.  Then it clicked- “Shrapnel.”  It wasn’t a question; I had seen enough detonated mortar shells being used as napkin weights in the restaurants to be certain.  We passed around the quarter-sized piece of shrapnel from the land mine; one of the cleaning ladies found it on hospital grounds after the blast and thought it was funny that Sara had wanted to keep it as a souvenir.  Barangs do the strangest things.  The shrapnel stopped when it came to Chamran, the sole Khmer in the room.  Chamran looked into it like it was a crystal ball and started telling us his story... (to be continued) 3 February 2003 E-mail "Re:": I'm glad that it's still a wild world back in the West.  It's been a spectacle here of late, as you've garnered from the press.  In local news, last Saturday a land mine went off in the schoolyard across the street from the hospital; the cleaning people actually found shrapnel in the hospital grounds.  Luckily, it was a hot Saturday afternoon and there were no children around; it seems a burning pile of garbage somehow set the mine off; if there had been kids there it would've been a blood bath.  But coming back to the whole Thai thing.  The papers still haven't made it clear, but it seems that a Thai soap opera actress said (and we don't know when or even if she was in or out of character) that she hated Cambodians more than anyone else because they stole her Angkor Wat.  So we have some alleged comments by a soap opera actress, of all people, who may have been in character at the time.  Hun Sen, a few days before the burnings went down, went on the radio telling the Cambodians to shut down the Thai radio and TV stations.  His comments were very incendiary.  That was done and much more; students in Phnom Phen set fire to the Thai embassy and looted and burned about 20 Thai businesses.  Thai and Bangkok Airways stopped service, the Thais stopped Cambodians from coming in at the borders, and even in Siem Reap many of the Thai business owners have fled back until it cools down and there are police posted at some Thai businesses.  And, of course, the plot thickens with rumors of Hun Sen owning many shares in Khmer business ventures (like a cell phone company) that have profited greatly from the Thai competition being out of the way.  There is also a border dispute, long-standing by my information, of 30km that may have been one of the motivators for Hun Sen inciting the Khmers.  A great quote from one of the students who was looting: when asked whether he had actually heard the comments by the soapopera actress he responded, "No, but Hun Sen said it and so it must be true."  Hmm... the same Hun Sen who killed his own people with the Khmer Rouge and then turned coats to kill his own people with the Vietnamese invasion.  The expats here have felt safe, though, and even the folks in Phnom Phen haven't been that shook up because the looting and burning was very localized.  The band plays on. Probably swinging in a hammock on the porch, being lazy and loving it. P.S. Siem Reap is named after a famous ancient battle with the Thai- hence the "Siem" which means "Siam" which is, of course, Thailand