Highlights -

• Meeting Alice, Sandy, Phillip and Ross on the bus to Siem Reap
• Exploring Angkor Wat, Angkor Thom, Bayon, Ta Prohm ("Tomb Raider"), and other temples
• My first shiatsu massage by a blind person
• Visiting and supporting local community - Butterfly Garden restaurant, Angkor Children's Hospital, Handicap International
• Talking travel for hours with Alice, the girls from Finland and Norway, and a guy from Philadelphia on my last night in Siem Reap
• The scenic boat ride to Battambang
• Moto tours through rural villages to killing caves and fields
• Hearing Phi-lay describe his first hand account of life under the Khmer Rouge
• Eating dinner and watching Bollywood movies with Phi-lay's family (twice)
• Completing the dog dare

• Pushing myself to try local foods like snake, grasshopper, and frog (just not the spiders....or the little fried birds....or the BIG cockroaches)
• Reading "First They Killed My Father"
• Visiting the Royal Palace
• Eating dinner at the Foreign Correspondent's Club (FCC) along the riverfront in Phnom Penh
• Spending an emotional and quiet morning at the Tuol Sleng genocide museum (S-21)
• Walking through the killing fields at Choeung Ek
• Buying 40 albums of mp3's at $0.75 apiece
• Buying 4 paintings by Cambodian artists
• The epic 16-hour minibus ride to Ban Lung with 16 Cambodians and a lot of bags/luggage
• Swimming in my first crater lake and visiting waterfalls via moto rides through rural villages
• 4x4 action and scenic boat rides to ethnic villages in remote (by my standards) northeastern Cambodia
• The friendliness, smiles, cheerful "hello's" and hospitality of Cambodians (especially the kids in the countryside)

Lowlights -

• My brand new ASUS AC adapter breaking (third occurrence overall)
• The epic 16-hour minibus ride to Ban Lung with 16 Cambodians and a lot of bags/luggage
• My Creative mp3 player breaking, as well as the first replacement I bought

Eating -

Amok with chicken or fish and rice, Cambodian curry, fried rice, baguettes, coffee, pizza, ostrich, bugs, grasshopper, dog, snake, frog, Angkor beer, banana pancakes, parma ham risotto with mushroom sauce (Phnom Penh)

# of Days Couchsurfing -

0

Average Cost Per Day -

$63 (would be about $10 less if I didn't buy a new mp3 player, lots of music and souvenirs)

I was up early and in the hotel lobby by 7:30 am. My destination was Don Det, an island on the Mekong River in southern Laos. On paper, it seemed like a short 8-hour day, the worst of which would be the 4 hours riding dirt roads on the way out of Ratanakiri.

I was picked up at 8:15 am, and being the first in the van, I was able to secure a good seat. A large piece of plywood lay across the right side of the van's interior, making entry and exit just hard enough to be annoying. The bus actually departed town an hour later, packed to the gills with Cambodians and their luggage. Again, I was the only westerner, and to my knowledge, the only English-speaker, though at least I could lean back in my seat. As a bonus, I had the pleasure of being blasted with video karaoke at decibels louder than anything I heard on an Indian bus. For the record, I prefer India's music videos to anything else I've seen or heard in Asia thus far.

Around 11:45 am, our driver stopped to inspect the front right wheel well.

About 20 minutes later, we came upon a big truck filled with people, some of whom were pointing and laughing at our minibus. The driver stopped again, and this time, it was for good. Everyone exited the minibus and a few guys, along with the driver, began to take the front right wheel off, which involved an elaborate setup of wood from both within the bus, and along the road side. Apparently the jack didn't get the vehicle high enough on its own.

Meanwhile, I noticed everyone else had moved to shade on the side of the road, and with good reason. Standing on the dirt road, in the mid-day sun, was intensely unpleasant. I had my mp3 player with me but wasn't in the mood to hear music. The one time I start a bus trip without a full 1.5 liters of water turns out to be the time the bus breaks down in the middle of nowhere. Minutes felt like hours, and I started to wonder how long we would be stuck. Who knows how things work in Cambodia in such situations. I started to wonder whether I would need to tap my encyclopedic knowledge of Bear Grylls' survival techniques. The mud puddles by the road looked less than appetizing, and I was in no mood to scrounge for bugs.

After more than an hour of sweating and wondering, my patience finally ran out and I ambled over toward the driver who had also resigned himself to sitting in the shade after being unable to fix the minibus. Preparing to ask my "how long until" question using only body language, I was met with a response in English that a replacement car would be there in 10 minutes. He must've been shy, I thought, to have clearly seen me confused for the past hour and not offered up such useful information.

Less than 10 minutes later, a minivan pulled up with a man, a woman, and 12 bottles of water. I guzzled mine in an instant, and boarded our new vehicle while the rescuers set to work on the old one. As it turns out, minus the breakdown, it would've been a mere 3.5 hours on the dirt roads. Despite the breakdown, I was able to enjoy the scenery I couldn't see on my way to Ban Lung. There were far more homes than I thought, mostly set amongst farmland.

I missed my connection to Laos, and spent an uneventful night in Sleung Treng as a result.

I slept late the morning after my harrowing bus ride to out of the way northeast Cambodia. When I walked downstairs to find breakfast, I was practically ambushed by a tour guide for the hotel. I agreed on a half day moto tour of three local waterfalls, along with a stop at Boeng Yeak Laom, the local swimming hole.

While I needed to see more waterfalls like I needed a hole in the head, I went along for the ride to savor a few more hours of weaving through rural villages, rubber plantations, and farmland. The first waterfall was the best, as you could walk behind the wall of cascading water. By the third I was more than ready to see the lake.

The moment we arrived, it began to rain so we sought shelter under one of the few small restaurants. After the rain passed, I went for a wonderful swim. The water was clear, the temperature perfect. Nature's bath! Perhaps it was the rain, or the late hour, but I had the jungle-enclosed lake to myself. Well, aside from a baby getting a scrubdown on the stairs. According to my guide, it is dangerous to swim near the center of the lake because water is sucked down into the volcano. And while he assured me there were no volcano sharks lurking around, there was still an eerie quietness I found slightly unsettling.

The opportunity to swim in such a beautiful lake, yet to be disturbed by development, was worth the discomfort of my bus ride. The guide said there was news of a 5-star hotel to be built using the lake as it's "swimming pool." If true, it would be a shame to have the very tranquil nature of the lake disrupted by hotel development trying to sell the seclusion it has destroyed! The idea reminded me of an article I had read in a Southeast Asia magazine which detailed how much of Cambodia's land is currently being sold to foreign investors. Hundreds of islands have been bought, and the impression I was left with is the country is up for sale.

Sometimes I use shorthand in my journal to track my day. The following events are real. If I knew proper names, I would most certainly use them. It is worth noting that the advertisement for this minibus trip to Ban Lung in northeast Cambodia stated 10-12 passengers. The trip was suppose to take 10-12 hours, including 4 hours on dirt roads toward the end.

6:30 am - Woke up

7:00 am - Unexpected moto taxi ride to travel office

7:30 am - Moto ride back to Lotus Travel near Rory's Guest House in light rain to pick up my forgotten passport (with freshly inked Laos visa)

8:00 am - Minibus picks me up. I am the only tourist in a bus of Cambodians who do not speak English. The seat I get in the second to last row is of the flip-down variety. The back support is non-existent. As we head out of town, several more people are picked up, with a woman choosing a seat behind me over sharing mine (I don't blame her). This results in a kid sharing my seat instead. Due to all the bags of unknown content, and luggage configuration, the back of my seat is flipped down. I've gone from poorly supported backing to no backing whatsoever, with a mere 11 hours to go. The two guys to the left of me have little luggage and maximum legroom. The guy to my immediate left guards his space by keeping his right knee aggressively pointed out. There are now 17 people, including the driver and me, in the minibus.

Our driver is the Cambodian Mario Andretti. He doesn't see a car, truck, or bus he doesn't pass at high speed. Anything that moves on the street is warned with a staccato honk - beep beep beep beep beep. I hypothesize that the first beep is a mental note to himself that there is life ahead, while by the fifth beep, he's actually warning the life form. Sometimes, I don't even see movement on the road to warrant this noise. It's incessant, and turning up my new mp3 player to drown it out only hastens my eventual deafness.

A few hours into the trip, we stop for a bite to eat, and I see a woman selling fried spiders for the first time. She holds a big plate of them in one hand, and a bucket of live ones in the other. Since no one spoke English, I didn't have the opportunity to ask why she was carrying live ones around. My only guess was it indicated freshness. Or maybe customers can choose their snack from the live bunch. If eating a spider was a dare, I would gladly fail to complete it.

1:30 pm - We reach muddy road blocked by a trapped pickup truck. Many men try to free the truck to no avail. Other trucks begin to circumvent it through more mud. Each success is met with a small cheer from the crowd. It is raining lightly, and as I couldn't resist getting out of the bus for a few photos, my clothes are damp and my feet muddy. I learn one Cambodian man on our bus does speak a little English. When a large bus tries to make its way past the pickup truck along an intersecting mudbath, it gets stuck too.

2:30 pm - The road delay lasts one hour before the large bus gets stuck, and Mario gives up and takes a detour through a village along the shores of the Mekong River. If he has a saving grace, it is an unnerving desire to see his passengers to Ban Lung come hell or high water.

3:00 pm - Lunch in Kratie. The chicken is served on the bone, thus I don't bother to eat it, focusing on the rice instead. I buy some crackers and water.

5:00 pm - Reach Stung Treng where the pavement ends and the 4 hours of dirt roads begin. It is starting to get noticeably dark as the sun heads down. Mr. English, familiar with the route, expects we'll arrive a few hours late, around 8-9 pm. Beyond any initial excitement for the journey, by this point I am in a state of semi-consciousness, still prone to my emotions and hopes of arriving before any power cuts which may be the norm for the small provincial capital.

6:40 pm - Night, pouring rain, headlights stopped working. Mario pulled into a nearby building with lights and people watching TV. Perhaps a restaurant? I've got a pounding headache from the bumps and noise and whole day. Fortuitously, I put some Paracetamol in my daybag the night before, which takes the edge off. I'm tired and cranky. What the hell am I doing in northeast Cambodia? Where will I sleep tonight? We pass very few homes with lights, and I consider the possibility that I may end up knocking on some Cambodian's door in search of a bed. I accept this as my plan-B. My bags, clothes, paintings will all get soaked if I have to walk any distance.

7:30 pm - The headlights were fixed for 30 minutes, then broke again. Mr. English, along with an Asian tourist who had the front seat up until this point, ditched us for a ride with a local. I felt slighted. Apparently my 5 minutes of chit-chatting at the roadblock couldn't compete with the rapport developed with Mr. Front Seat.

Mario makes the executive decision to continue driving down the pitch-black, rain-soaked, bombed-out, mud road using the flashing amber hazard lights of our Mercedes Benz. We drive at a snail's pace for another 4.5 hours. It was hellacious. The woman behind me (mother of the kid next to me), Ms. Loudmouth, laughed heartily every time we hit a bump in our disabled vehicle. It began to sound like fingernails on a chalkboard. Past any regard for politeness, on several occasions I cupped my hands over my ears in an attempt to display my annoyance. Her son apparently took after her, all but shouting in my right ear when he spoke, spit occasionally spraying onto my right cheek. By now, I was so tired, I had no emotional energy left to be angry or annoyed or anxious.

My comfort, and that of the other passengers, improved incrementally as people began to get off an hour or so outside of our final destination.

12:00 am - Arrived in Ban Lung, a full 4-6 hours later than expected, though the rain had ceased. Even the roads in the center of town were dirt. There was no one around. I knocked on the first hotel lobby I saw with lights on (and 4 men sleeping on cots and benches). Apparently, though it sounds hard to believe, I was able to get the last room available.

A cold shower and sleep were all I could handle.

Each time I broke a camera, I was annoyed but grateful my mp3 player was still intact and working fine.  Unlike removing photos from a digital camera, I can't remove my music from a broken mp3 player.  I remember spending weeks burning my CD's to mp3's, and then loading 7 gigs of my favorite music.  Genres and songs for all potential moods and occasions.  What would happen to me if I were to lose it all?

Unfortunately, I found out when my Creative Zen V Plus mp3 player froze upon start-up my first morning in Phenom Penh.  It sometimes happens, so I took out the trusty needle I'd been using the whole trip specifically to "reset" the player.  I tried it once....twice....thrice, but no luck.  Around the tenth attempt, I gave up.

The silver lining was my location - a capital city.  Surely there would be mp3 players for sale, and as for the music, I didn't know.  I took a tuk-tuk to the Central Market out of sightseeing curiosity, but quickly began to shop around for a new mp3 player.  There were the knock-off iPods, but I didn't want to buy cheap and pay for music, only to have it break in a month.  I eventually found a Transcend 4gb player at a computer shop across the street encircling the market.  $57 seemed steep, however I got a guarantee with it (good only in Cambodia of course).

After buying the player, I went into a nearby music shop to ask about buying English mp3's.  I was given a box of bad Asian pop music and compilation hip-hop CD's.  I might've been hopeful had the box not contained 20 copies of what appeared to be 3 different CD's.  Next, I wanted to check out the backpacker area by the lake since I wasn't staying there.  As the tuk-tuk drove through the narrow street, I saw a few signs for mp3's, and disembarked.  At one bar, I found giant catalogues of modern and older music by genre.  I was ecstatic.  I ordered a big Beer Lao and drew up my list.  I handed the list of 32 albums to the guy, racking up a total bill of $20.  He even loaded the music for me, while I took in a sunset over the lake at a nearby guest house.

In the pouring rain, I collected my mp3 player and rode back to Rory's, triumphant.  The mp3 player didn't include an AC adapter, but it seemed like both options I tried were working - using my Creative AC adapter and the USB port on my general purpose AC adapter.  I had music again, but not for long.

The next morning, my new Transcend mp3  player wouldn't start up.  I was pissed!  I was shocked!  I was not going to waste any time getting back to the computer shop for a replacement.  After all, I had paid a premium for a guarantee!   As to why it was broken, it occurred to me that it couldn't handle the charging from the AC adapters, but there was no way to tell for sure.

Back at the computer shop, I presented my receipt, the player, and all of the packaging and components to the sales girl who had helped me the day before.  She brought it to the second floor techie room, where a guy confirmed it was broken.  I came back down to the customer service area, where a young man informed me that since I had removed the small "warranty shield" sticker which had been placed on the device at the point of sale, they guarantee was voided.  I retorted that I was unaware of the sticker's importance.  After a few minutes of back and forth, I was resigning myself to having thrown away $77 and an afternoon, when the young man asked if I would be leaving the store angry.  I'm sure my expression said "yes" even if I didn't.

At that point, he went to talk to someone else, and I was then told a replacement could be provided if I waited another 30 minutes.  Sure enough, I got a new one, and directed my driver to head for the backpacker enclave yet again.  It felt like Groundhog Day, though the guy who I bought the mp3's from the first time around wasn't working.

Luckily, there was the Boom Boom Room which sold mp3's as well.  I ended up buying more music than the first time around.  Ironically, the harder to find stuff on my old player was also the stuff I listened to the least.  I went for the artists I could depend on the most, including:

• AFI
• Bedouin Soundclash (the one with When the Night Feels My Song)
• Ben Harper (Best of)
• Bob Dylan (x2)
• Bob Marley (Legend)
• CKY (Infiltrate Destroy Rebuild)
• Coldplay (x3)
• Guns 'n Roses (Best of)
• Marvin Gaye (oooh yeah)
• Jack Johnson (the one with Banana Pancakes)
• NOFX (So Long...)
• Pearl Jam (Best of)
• Rancid (Indestructible)
• REM (Best of)
• Rodrigo y Gabriela (for their cover of Metallica's Orion)
• Sublime (self-titled)
• Sum 41 (Chuck, and new one)
• The Dave Matthews Band
• The Red Hot Chili Peppers (x4)
• The Shins
• Tom Petty (Wildflowers)
• Ween (The Mollusk)
• Soundtracks - The Beach, Garden State, City of God (for Brazil)

2.5 gigs of music obtained, I was ready to hit the road to Rattanakiri in rural northeast Cambodia.

I ate lunch at a pleasant restaurant directly across from S-21, and headed out of town on the dusty, dirty, pollution-choked road to the killing field at Choeung Ek. All but about seven of the 10,000+ prisoners that passed through S-21 were killed. Some died from the torture, beatings, disease, or malnutrition, while most were hauled off to Choeung Ek for straightforward execution.

It was a moving site, and bigger than the ones I saw around Battambang, but no more powerful.

I made an offering of flowers and incense at the stupa which was filled with thousands of skulls and bones.

It was sobering to see the holes in the Earth - excavated mass graves.

On the dirt paths, you could see human bones sticking out.

I joined 2 Australian guys on a tour as there were no more guides available. The guide was blunt. I wasn't sure if he relives personal experiences every day working in such an environment, just doesn't know much English, or talks that way for effect. Regardless, I was glad to have already had a more personal experience beforehand with Phi-lay.

I spent 2.5 hours touring all 4 concrete buildings at the Tuol Sleng genocide museum. Under the Khmer Rouge, the former school was referred to covertly as S-21.

Stepping into the former cells in Building A, I was confronted with a solitary bed frame, old ammo boxes which were the prisoners' toilets, and rudimentary shackles consisting of a metal bar and two semi-circular cuffs. A large photograph of the victim found in the room hung as a reference to the terror that occurred there 30 years earlier.

It was the Vietnamese, who upon liberating Phenom Penh and Cambodia in 1979, first discovered the secret prison that was S-21. A photographer captured the images of the last prisoners to be tortured and killed there.

As I was quietly reflecting, a tour group began to come up behind me. Despite the sign posted outside the cells requesting silence, the leader continued to talk to the group once inside, which I found to disturb my own experience. I decided to sit outside and wait for them to pass, at which point I was approached by a Cambodian student and asked to complete a survey. It presented a nice diversion until the group passed, and I resumed.

Standing in the rooms, looking at photos of what happened to people there was horrifying. It sent chills up my spine the few times I consciously tried to imagine what it would've been like to experience the prison first hand.

It's unlike any other museum I've walked through. The Holocaust Museum in Washington, DC is somber, yet there is something I found more emotionally moving about actually standing in the physical structure and rooms, and on the orange and white checkered tiles, where so many people were mistreated and killed.

Seeing the photos of the men, women and children held there was even worse. I was close to tears. The looks of fear, unhappiness, and sadness on their faces. The paintings depicting torture - a Khmer Rouge figure preparing to hit a baby against a tree as his mother is pulled away crying. The image of a baby speared with a soldier's bayonet.

There were also displays of rudimentary torture devices, including a slanted table used for waterboarding.

_________________

PS: After exiting my tuk-tuk on the side road outside the museum's walls, I was almost immediately approached by a man requesting money. He removed his cap to gesture for a donation, and when I looked at his face, I was immediately taken aback by the disfigurement. It looked like he had been severely burned. His right eye seemed to be coming out of the socket. Shocked, I turned down his request and hustled into the museum's entrance.

Once inside, I paid and sat down for a moment to collect my thoughts. I felt remorse for my initial reaction, and removed some money from my wallet to offer should he still be around when I left. Sure enough, almost 3 hours later, he approached me again, and while I can't claim to have stuck around long to talk, I did hope the money I gave him would be of some use.

I studied a little bit of architecture in college, and while I've forgotten all those pesky details we had to memorize for exams (you know, minor stuff like influential architects, buildings, and styles), I retained an appreciation for architecture as art. The French Colonial architecture seems out of place in an Asian country such as Cambodia. The above photo captures a beautifully restored building now used by UNESCO. I love the luck I struck by catching a passing monk and traditional cyclo in the same shot.

Next to the UNESCO building was another fantastic representation of the style, though it could do with a new coat of paint. Both of these buildings are opposite the park in front of the national museum near the riverfront.

And lastly, I'm not sure if the building along this side street was French Colonial or not, but the open shutters struck a chord with me visually.

After a simple breakfast at upmarket Cafe Fresco along the riverfront, I walked aimlessly around the neighborhood.

The Royal Palace, I was assured, was not quite as stunning as the one in Bangkok, though it seemed worthy of a visit.

While it lacked the Thai flair for colorful mosaics, the architecture was very similar and beautiful in its own right.  Neither  the building with the throne, nor the temple with the giant gem-studded gold Buddha and silver-tiled flooring allowed photography, so you'll just have to put Cambodia on your travel list if you want to see what's inside.

Still aglow after experiencing the hospitality of Phi-lay's family, I boarded a comfortable mid-morning bus to Cambodia's capital, Phnom Penh. I was able to fully appreciate the scenic drive for two reasons - the paved roads and the arrival at the city's outskirts an hour ahead of schedule. My bus buddy for the trip was a Cambodian who commuted to the capital every weekend to complete his Master's. His English was great, so I made sure to spend some time chit-chatting.

I made a conscious decision to stay by the riverfront, which is a little more expensive and centrally located than the traditional haven for backpackers by a lake. After my first choice hotel was booked, I stumbled upon an available room above Rory's Irish Pub. At $14 a night, I was a block from the central riverfront area, a few blocks from The Royal Palace, and surrounded by tons of restaurants (everything from the local eateries to The Foreign Correspondent's Club). My view from the pub looked out over an open park filled with children playing every afternoon.

I hesitated at first, when Phi-lay asked me to join his family for dinner after having only spent a few hours with me. I sensed he wouldn't take "no" for an answer, and as he was literally in the driver's seat at the time, I RSVP'd for what was to become one of my fondest experiences of the whole trip. The initial delay might have been from the knowledge that in addition to him and his wife, there were 8 children in the family. 8! I don't even know what to do around one.

The whole family lives together under the same roof. Only Phi-lay and his eldest son, Rich, work and bring in money. They were also the only two to speak English. The cynical part of me wondered how much of the interest in me was tied to an interest in a bigger tip. But that small voice, which is new to me and only the result of too many encounters with hustlers and greedy drivers on my trip, was quickly overshadowed by his wonderful family. A welcoming wife, pretty daughters (the youngest being 11 and 14) and handsome sons (Rich being in his early 20's).

We had beef and rice, and sweet potatoes later on while watching a Bollywood movie in their TV room which doubles as a bedroom for the kids. The dining table and open-air kitchen are on a patio under the house. They only have electricity from 7-9pm nightly, and it is bought from a private supplier. The power level would decrease from time to time, requiring the DVD to be restarted and fast forwarded to the place where it last played.

Feeling tired from a long day, I asked for a ride back to my hotel a little before 8pm, but not before committing the special scene to my camera's memory card.

I just had one of the best days of my trip. It started with a good 12 hours of sleep, shower, and some CNN. I had breakfast on the Royal Hotel's roof and read more of "First They Killed My Father." At times, I was close to tears.

I went downstairs to use the internet and had a message which made me smile. Then, I connected with a moto driver, Phi-lay, in the lobby.

He offered a motorbike tour for $8 - a price so reasonable I didn't bother to negotiate. We hopped on his bike a little after 10 am.

First, I asked to stop at an ATM so I could get some cash in dollars (ATM's dispense US dollars in Cambodia, and only small denominations of Riels). Then we zipped out of the city.

Soon, we were cruising along dirt paths between rice fields and through rural villages. Once again, little kids waved and said, "Hello."

We arrived at the entrance to the caves and hill temple, where I rehydrated and ate some fruit.

Taking a local guide up the hill worked out perfectly (and cheaply, at only $1). He had been guiding since age eight and spoke excellent English. He wants to become an English teacher eventually.

Our first stop was a small cave with a few remains on display. It was disheartening to think about the evil Khmer Rouge pushing people off cliffs into the caves to kill them.

Even worse was to think about those being left to die amongst the already dead if the initial fall wasn't lights out.

The second and larger cave had the remains of several hundred Cambodians killed in both the small and big caves. It was a very somber place. Rainwater permeating through the rock ceiling dripped down, creating a damp atmosphere.

The hilltop Buddhist temple was taken over when the Khmer Rouge came into power and turned it into a prison.

A sad desecration of a sacred place. And it happened across the country. Monks were killed, Buddha statues were beheaded, and temples were destroyed.

While I was up there, an old monk was listening to the news on a radio. A very young child monk was there too. My guide and I sat with them for a bit in the shade of the temple.

The views of the Cambodian countryside from atop the limestone hill were stunning. It was hot, but the sun was behind clouds most of the day.

We returned to the entrance, where I bought a Kroma - the traditional Khmer checkered scarf.

I ate lunch at the same restaurant we sat at before the guided tour. Phi-lay recounted his experiences at age 16 of living through Pol Pot's era.

I had hoped to hear his personal story, but I wasn't sure how to bring it up. As it happened, he simply began to share it as I was munching on fried rice with egg.

Much of what he said mimicked the experiences I had been reading about in "First They Killed My Father." Of course, with 2 million people, or a quarter of the population, killed by execution, disease, and starvation, it shouldn't be a surprise.

Part of me wanted to take notes, but there was just too much I'd wanted to write down, so I sat and listened.

He mentioned having to scrounge for bugs to eat, the constant hunger, and that much of his family died. He was in the hospital more than once, and on two occasions for more than six months at a time.

His hair fell out. His skin flaked off. In the rainy season, he worked with water up to his chest. And when he got something akin to porridge to eat, the water was so high that it mixed in with it while he was trying to eat.

In the fields, he'd drink groundwater contaminated with nearby cow feces. His face scrunched up in disgust as he talked about these horrifying realities. He also spent nine years in a Thai refugee camp.

The topic of scorpions arose somehow (probably by me, as I am still trying to complete the longstanding dare to eat one), and he offered to take me past a bug stand on the way back to the hotel.

Along the way, we passed the Governor's (old, and adjacent new) homes. Then the bugs, but no scorpions, were to be found. Phi-lay suggested they might be out of season due to the rains.

I figured, if I were ever going to have a chance at eating the elusive scorpion, then I'd better get some practice with smaller critters. My left leg trembled as I mustered the sober courage to munch the little buggers piled up before me.

Phi-lay was standing by, ready to snap photos, while the two Cambodians behind the stand quietly observed the show. I tried a small black bug first, followed by a big grasshopper with a peanut shoved up its butt.

They were both crunchy and not too flavorful, except for the grasshopper, whose saving grace was the noticeable peanut taste.

Then the topic of eating dog came up (probably by me again). Phi-lay responded with a recommendation, and I saw a completed dare within my sights.

I managed to get up at 5:30am, get picked up at 6am, and reach Battambang by boat. It took 7 hours. The first few hours were very scenic and pretty, as we crossed one of Asia's biggest lakes, and motored through a bird sanctuary. I had some energy and it wasn't too hot. After 4 hours, I was starting to tire.

We had a 15-minute lunch stop on a floating restaurant, and then it was back on the boat. At that point, a couple recognized me from Nepal. We had both stayed at the same guest house in Chomrung during our Annapurna Sanctuary treks.

Post-lunch sections of the waterway were narrow, requiring we lower curtains on both sides of the boat to prevent decapitation by branches. During these sections, it was darker and hotter within the boat. The dim orange lighting, combined with shadows and the sound of bushes scraping against the curtains likened the atmosphere to that of a slasher movie.

We passed through tons of floating villages. Almost all of the houses were floating, on stilts, or actually converted boats. Little kids would wave from homes, boats, rooftops, and the shore. A few even blew us kisses. I waved back a lot.

Despite the long day, the boat trip was a great way to gain exposure to rural Cambodian life.

Another Day In Camobida is a tourist-aimed booklet which highlights organizations whose support can directly benefit the local community. I decided to spend a morning visiting such places around Siem Reap. Below is the related entry from my journal.

_______________________________

Been a good day so far. Met and ate breakfast with a New Zealand girl at the Butterfly Garden. (The restaurant pays local kids to collect butterflies for its garden. I arrived too early to see the kids set the day's batch free.)

Was the first tourist to visit the newly opened visitor center at Angkor Childrens Hospital. They were still putting the finishing touches on it. The Manager was an Asian-American woman. The center's architect is from New York City, and just designed a new building in Bryant Park. (The hospital offers free care to children from all over Cambodia. It is staffed by Cambodian doctors and nurses.)

I donated $30 at Handicap International. The facility looked really basic, but it's free to Cambodians, transport, dorms, food, physical rehab, prosthesis, because those affected are often poor rural farmers. (The facility helps Cambodians affected predominantly by landmine and UXO (unexploded ordinance) explosions. Among the recent homemade prosthesis made by the injured before they could visit the center were a few examples which literally incorporated the metal shells from bombs. The examples shown in the photo were no more than a few years old.)

The Angkor Museum was opened in 2007. It was huge, empty of tourists, but well designed and worth a visit I thought. There was a good energy in the room/exhibit with 1,000 Buddha statues. You could feel it, as long as you were open to it.

And lunch of ostrich near Pub Street before an internet/writing session. I'm 99% sure my ASUS AC adapter broke again, and after paying $40 for a new one, and having it less than one week. I'm pissed off about that. I'm going to have to haul the computer around through Cambodia, Laos, and northern Thailand for another six weeks before going back to Bangkok and visiting the service center for a replacement. If that one breaks, I'm going to forget about it for the rest of the trip.

As Alice had left in the morning, it was down to Ross, Sandy and myself for dinner. Afterwards, Sandy and I headed to the night market as I searched for a scorpion to eat (no luck). Then, we went to the guest house of an Austrian she had met a few nights prior, where we encountered a favorite scene of mine. A small table in an quiet restaurant, a few well-seasoned backpackers from different countries, and a free-flowing exchange of travel tales. We talked for about three hours before calling it a night.

I met Alice at 8:30 am, ate a great, fluffy banana pancake, and headed off to meet Phillip and Sandy. We spent almost two hours exploring Ta Prohm, better known as the "Tomb Raider" temple, where scenes for the video game-inspired movie starring Angelina Jolie were shot.

It was my favorite temple of the two days because it hadn't been cleaned up. The jungle and its giant trees were still asserting themselves over crumbling stone walls. We had fun exploring the interior and taking campy photos.

The heat and humidity soon got to me. We visited one or two more temples nearby, and then got lunch at a local restaurant where our hostess/waitress was a young girl, no more than 12 or 13.

Phillip commented that the service was better than at some places in Germany, and while I thought it was good too, there was no getting around the sense that kids have to grow up a little too soon in this country.

I bought a copy of Lonely Planet Laos for $5 because I don't like the Lonely Planet Southeast Asia On A Shoestring. I wanted to lessen my dependence on guidebooks after Thailand, but it was too vague, and there were far too many jokes.

The target audience was 18-25 year olds, and I'm approaching 32. If anything, I realized an appreciation for the country-specific guides I'd been using until now.

I also bought a copy of "First They Killed My Father" by Loung Ung. I purposefully waited until arriving in Cambodia to start reading about the Khmer Rouge.

In the evening, Phillip and I ate near the hotel, at one of the many great restaurants. He was the first to leave our little group, heading down to Phnom Penh in the morning.

Hanging out with a German meant I wasn't about to escape a few beers. The first two were my idea to ensure he wasn't drinking alone, but the third was only at his insistence. 

We slept late, meeting downstairs at 10:30am for brunch before negotiating two motorbike-driven tuk-tuks for two days ($50 total).

The lead driver, Mr. Meth, like the hotel, was a recommendation from Ross who had visited Siem Reap once before.

At the ticket gate, which was eerily empty, we all got 3-day passes as it was no cheaper to buy two separate day passes.

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Angkor Wat is BIG. It is the world's largest religious building and the primary attraction for most visitors to Cambodia.

We took lots of concept photos which was fun.

Bayon was the temple with all the stone-carved faces. I enjoyed walking through it more than Angkor Wat, perhaps because it was smaller, and the 216 faces seemed more engaging than bas-reliefs.

Sunset from atop a temple was anti-climactic, too many clouds and tourists, but it still offered great 360-degree views of the landscape.

I was showing Sandy photos of India when we heard a collective gasp as the sun fell behind thick clouds, extinguishing people's hopes of a dramatic and colorful conclusion to their day.

Throughout our tour of temples, we were approached by young kids to buy cheap, copy Lonely Planet guidebooks for Cambodia, Laos, and Vietnam, as well as copies of top selling books on the Khmer Rouge and genocide.

At times, it was overbearing, especially as heat and fatigue began to take its toll. We all did our best to be friendly as they followed us around.

Sandy and Phillip planned to wake up in the pre-dawn hours to catch the sunrise from another location, while Alice and I declined in favor of precious sleep.

Well you'll work harder
With a gun in your back
For a bowl of rice a day
Slave for soldiers
Till you starve
Then your head is skewered on a stake

Now you can go where people are one
Now you can go where they get things done
What you need, my son.

Is a holiday in Cambodia
Where people dress in black
A holiday in Cambodia
Where you'll kiss ass or crack

--- The Dead Kennedys

Note: Twenty years ago, my childhood friend Jeff introduced me to the early 80's political-punk band The Dead Kennedys. One of their most popular songs, " Holiday In Cambodia,"? recounts the terrifying reign of Pol Pot during the genocide of the late 1970's. I became aware of Cambodia's sad and recent history as a result of this song rather than any discussions or reading from school.

I managed a few hours sleep the night before departing for the Thai-Cambodia border. A mix of excitement and anxiety usually makes sleep a luxury before entering a new country. In the morning, I got a front row seat on the double-decker bus for the first time. While the exterior was freshly painted with a Winnie the Pooh theme, the interior clearly showed the age of the vehicle.

Another reason I sat in the front with the older white guys and their Thai lady friends was to gain space from other backpackers. I wanted time to process and appreciate the past few weeks, and new friendships would accelerate, if not eliminate, that opportunity (as it has many times in the past on this trip).

After a few hours, we stopped for lunch while still in Thailand. I met Sandy and Alice from Melbourne, Australia. (Note: I'm a sucker for Australian accents.) We sat together at a dinner break too, along with Ross from Miami.

The difference in wealth and infrastructure upon crossing the border was very noticeable. My first images of Cambodia reminded me of India. The road from the border to Siem Reap was mostly dirt. Slow going. 11.5 hours of total transit time from Bangkok departure to Siem Reap arrival.

By dinner, I had decided that touring Angkor Wat was the type of activity I'd best enjoy with company, and thus Alice, Sandy, myself, and Phillip (Germany) stayed at the same hotel, and made plans to arrange tuk-tuks the next morning. So much for taking time to process recent events.

Even though a single was only $5, I took Phillip up on his offer to share a room, something I hadn't done since Steve and I first arrived on Thong Nai Pan Noi (beach) in Koh Phangan six weeks prior.