Worst of Humanity

It had to be done. We knew it would be heart wrenching and numbing. We knew it would make us boil with anger. We knew it would make us despise humanity. We knew it would remind us that we must remain vigilant to fight for those who cannot.

We started at Chaoeung Ek, one of the chosen Khmer Rouge killing fields located outside Phnom Penh. Tragically, this was the last stop for thousands of Cambodians and at least six foreigners under the zealous administration. No structures were left standing as most were disassembled after the fall of the regime by locals looking for materials to survive, so signs were posted to show the initial set up of the field.
It feels weird to say that it was laid out well, but the Killing Fields was one of the most informational places I have ever visited. Each visitor was given a headset (at no extra charge) and signs were marked with numbers, so upon reaching a location we only had to punch in the number to hear the story. The headsets also gave the option of hearing survivor tales, songs written to commemorate the tragedy and information about what happened after the fall of the regime to those that inflicted such horror.

It was hard to hear the history. It was even harder to walk around and see actual bones and teeth protruding from the dirt or scraps of clothes tied around tree roots. With each rain, more of the dead appear on the surface.

Our next stop was S-21, the former high school turned torture prison. For me, this was the worst of the two locations. It sickened me that Pol Pot, a former teacher, would take a place of learning and desecrate it in such a manner. It was horrifying to see pictures of the fourteen prisoners killed and left to rot in their cells while the masterminds fled the city. It angered me that such cruelty was documented, but at the same time, satisfied there could be no question as to what had occurred.

Too many times I caught a tear sliding down my cheek as I walked the aisles of billboards filled with pictures of those who crossed S-21's threshold. Children. Men. Women. Babies. Faces showing disbelief. Shock. Terror. Bafflement.

Tucked away in a corner of a cell is a wall which has become graffiti-written. There are the typical 'so and so was here', but those are vastly outnumbered by the notes venting about the inexcusability of what happened in Cambodia. One anonymous writer wrote, "Always stand for humanity," while another wrote "Don't let shit like this every happen again, please!"

Sadly, it still happens all over the world. But for today, I saw and was reminded why it is never right and it is never acceptable.

Around Phnom Penh

Accustomed to the grandiose population of China, we find ourselves unnerved by the small cities of four million. After dropping off our passports to secure Vietnam visas, we armed ourselves with a map and began trekking to find the highlights of Phnom Penh.

Three hours later, we were done. Our journey was rather quick for Phnom Penh is not that big. It became comical as map-wielding Zach would proclaim, "OK, next thing is the Victory monument in about twenty blocks!" Two minutes later, we would be there. Far from the mile-long Chinese blocks were we.

It was a beautiful day to explore the city; blue skies and tropical breezes were a valued asset. We enjoyed seeing the odd monuments placed around the city identifying key moments in Cambodian history or declaring friendships with other countries. We admired the palace and museum from afar, as we didn't feel like paying to tour the inside and be told we couldn't take pictures. Plus they were closed for the afternoon siesta.

Wats were everywhere, and I found myself wanting to re-watch Lord of the Rings due to all the fairy-esque statues around these places of worship.

The French architecture was evident in nearly every building, especially highlighted along the riverfront. Though at night it emits the sleazy aura, the daytime riverfront is beautiful, relaxing and enjoyable.

We ended our day eating dinner with the Evans family; we absolutely loved our hosts. Not only were we so grateful for their scrumptious Western food, but we loved getting to know them. Laughter was a constant.

The Wheels on the Bus

It was another day on a bus, this one punctuated as the hub for all mosquitoes in the area. At journey’s end, Zach had killed at least thirty of the blood sucking monsters, which felt like nothing when looking up the aisle and seeing hundreds more dancing on the wind.

By Zach’s calculations, we had spent three days’ worth of time on a bus during our travels. While he mathematically entertained himself, I architecturally redesigned the houses along our route. Cambodia homes are primarily on stilts, which was fascinating to me. I revamped and redecorated them over and over in my mind. Ultimately, I would like to live in a stilted home one day.

We rolled into a soggy Phnom Penh; so much for a truly dry season. Through a college friend, we were hooked up with accommodation. We knew nothing of them, they knew nothing of us (our mutual acquaintance hadn't even told them that we went to school together). Thankfully, their southern hospitality prevailed and they took a chance by saying yes to our request to stay with them. Over dinner of lasagna and yummy cheese bread, we became better acquainted and were able to assure them we weren't traveling axe murderers. 

It was the beginning of a great couple of days for us.

A Surprise: Siem Reap

Within twenty four hours Cambodia had eradicated my presumptions and replaced them with complete bafflement. A country that was merely thirty years from a horrific genocide was bustling with tourism and smiling faces. Obviously a lot of infrastructure is missing (healthcare, education, job retention), but the world is investing in its development (even China is building a bridge when their own country is riddled with roadlessness) and NGO signs are sighted on nearly every street. I saw hope. Used to the deaden expression of Chinese who so desperately want to believe they are a developing democracy, Cambodia was refreshing.

Siem Reap was a Western paradise, a sensory overload for this expat. English was widely spoken and the US dollar was the currency of choice. I actually felt as though I was in the world’s greatest dollar store. One dollar for a fruit drink. One dollar for a beer. One dollar for a fish to nibble on your feet (with a free drink thrown in for good measure). Three dollars for a pedicure. Ironically, Zach and I found ourselves converting prices into RMB for a point of monetary reference. To a western coming from Europe/America/Australia, Cambodia was ridiculously cheap. For us, Cambodia was a mite expensive in some aspects.

In a complete unanimous decision, we decided to begin our time in Siem Reap with lunch at the Viva! Mexican Restaurant. A burrito had never tasted so good.  

We spent the afternoon walking through the tangle of alleyways and the market. The cobblestone passages are filled with open air eateries and cafes, speckled with shops bearing a name like “Green Mango” or street vendors peddling scarves. Gretchen and I got pedicures. We ate an Italian dinner. Zach and I agreed that we would take the plunge and have our feet nibbled upon by fish. Gretchen adamantly declined, but aided in the selection of a clean tank and took pictures. 

The initial encounter with the fish was hysteria as it was unbelievably ticklish. It eventually subsided, allowing us to enjoy watching other people’s first dip. The not-advertised advantage to fish nibbling is that my mosquito bites were void of itchiness after fifteen minutes in the tank. That was worth the one dollar. 

In the garden of our hotel, we said farewell to Gretchen. She had to return to Poipet in the morning and we were staying in Siem Reap for another day. Seeing her was definitely an amazing highlight and a beautiful reminder that friendships around the world are a precious thing. 

Run for the Border

Our time in Bangkok was brief because we had planned a weekend rendezvous with our friend, Gretchen, in Poipet. She is a friend from Portland who has been living and working in Cambodia for close to two years. Since we were near her part of the world, we could not pass up the opportunity to reconnect. Plus, I follow her picture-a-day stream and I was intrigued by a country I knew very little about. 

We walked into Cambodia late afternoon, settled in our hotel and met up with Gretchen for dinner. Our initial encounter was marred by the fact we had just received an email that our Bangkok couchsurfing host had left us a malicious review. It was extremely hurtful and a shock. (Later that night, we turned him into the couchsurfing authorities and the review was removed from our profile; plus according to his profile he may be finished hosting which is a good thing.)

Dinner with Gretchen was fabulous. It was so fun to see her again, laugh with her and learn more about her home and work. Plus, the live karaoke-ish music around the outdoor eating area was an added bonus.

Our evening concluded with Gretchen and Zach taste-testing the local bug delicacies (both agreed it tasted like potato chips), Gretchen being brave by driving two extra foreigners on her moto and collectively plotting our trek to Siem Reap the next day.

Photo courtesy of Gretchen

A Day in Bangkok

We overslept. 

Zach has become a consistent alarm clock in the past year by waking up between 8:30-9am, so he didn't set an alarm. Great news was that he did wake up during that time...just in Egyptian time rather than Bangkok time. Our couchsurfing host was astounded when we came bumbling down the steps at 1:30pm. 

Due to our late start, we knew we would not be seeing the inside of many sites, but that did not deter us from heading towards the river, nonetheless. Plus, we have learned that once you have seen the inside of one mosque/church/temple, the rest rarely differ in great extremes. Usually the outside is the greatest difference and most picture worthy.

We stumbled onto Wat Pho, which stayed open quite late. We were swindled into thinking the entrance fee  was 100 baht, which actually was the price to see the reclining Buddha. The wat was free to peruse. The Buddha was extremely large and excessively golden, but not worth the 100 baht.

The wat itself was amazing. A labyrinth of excessive gold, sparkling jewels, towering statues, sitting Buddhas, soaring spires and so many picturesque snapshots. I loved the vibrancy of the monk robes. I loved the contemplative atmosphere. I loved the details--oh, the details of carvings and wall coverings.

We walked to all the major sites, appreciating their night-time shroud of impressive lighting (but nothing like the mosques of Egypt). We ate pad thai in a street market. We waved off the constant cries of "tuk tuk!"

We finished our day in the Siam area, a bustling hub of the city jammed with behemoth shopping malls. We took a detour into the ground floor of one for some reason , but quickly lost all reason on discovering the most extravagant food court ever. To this day I cannot remember why we actually went in the building.

We panicked.

There was an Auntie Anne's and a Krispy Kreme. We couldn't make a decision. We got both.

We flounced through the World Market, gaping at the coolers filled with cheese and the aisles stocked with granola bars, spices and Nutella. It was utopia for culinary-deprived expats. They had to kick us out at closing time, but not before we had purchased some goodies for our travels and had verbally lamented that we couldn't stash cheese in our packs.

Home Comfort

We spent our first afternoon in Thailand in Starbucks. Zach had been adamant that he needed a coffee reset and I was happy to sit in a familiar surrounding. Our actual intention had not been to spend all afternoon, but enthralling books grabbed our attention and a smidge of jet-lag made us content to watch evening fall from the comfort of wooden chairs and a round table.

Dahab

Described as a backpacker's nirvana, recommended by practically every traveler we met and smack dab in the middle of great diving locations, Dahab was our last destination in Egypt.

It surpassed our expectations. Though it was evident that tourism was extremely low, we were not hassled beyond the expected norm; it actually worked to our benefit. One night we decided to eat at a waterfront Bedouin restaurant. With toasty fire pits and fluffy, vibrant cushions, the owner gave us a meal deal including free appetizers, lemon drink, dessert, Bedouin tea and 25% off the entire bill. Since the ambiance was so welcoming we decided to stay for a while for me to work on blogging. The owner was thrilled, so much so that he found a power adapter for our computer in hopes that our presence would entice other travelers to grace his establishment. It worked.

Our days in Dahab were repetitive and cathartic: wake up, eat breakfast, lay in the sun by the sea, eat dinner, go to bed, repeat. We watched divers disappear and re-emerge from the sea. We watched kids giggle as they chased the waves on the shore. We drank liters of guava juice. We met interesting and entertaining characters by staying in the Dahab Dorms. It was an isolated bubble and we relished in the peace and quiet that it offered.

As a precaution to avoid protest (plus the fact we couldn't really stomach another go at Cairo), we booked a flight from Sharm el Sheik to Cairo with an eight hour layover. We remarked to each other that it was the first time either of us had been content to stay within the airport.

Though the Sinai Peninsula was the redeeming factor for Egypt, we were happy to say farewell to Egypt and look forward to our next destination--Thailand.

Day Trip: St. Catherine's Monastery

Located in the center of the Sinai peninsula, nestled at the foot of Mt. Sinai is St. Catherine's monastery; the oldest working monastery in the world. Besides the continual prodding of fellow travelers to get to the peninsula, St. Catherine's was a location we wanted to visit prior to heading to Egypt.    

The monastery has a long and bizarre history--a letter of protection from Mohammad and undetectable by conquering armies, for example. Furthermore, it houses the only icons that survived the destroy-the-icons-because-they-are-idols-fiasco instigated by the church decades ago. (The upheaval has an official church history name that I can never remember no matter how many times Zach tells me.)

Within the fortress type walls, visitors are allowed to see Moses' Well, the burning bush and the church sanctuary. Since it is a slim alleyway between the outer wall and the church, space with tight. While viewing the burning bush, I think I upset a few pilgrims when sarcastically remarking the fire extinguisher was necessary for unpredictable flare-ups from God.

The narthex housed the original icons; it was extremely dark and a few of them we could not fully see. Within the sanctuary, I was able to capture a few contraband photos before the defenders of the NO PHOTO sign could admonish me. Camera stowed, I gawked at the amount of lanterns hanging from the ceiling. Each different in color and shape, each hanging at different levels; it seriously had the appearance of a light fixture store, but a bit holier.

Honestly, we were disappointed that we got to see such a small fraction of the monastery. Even taking our time, we were finished with the tour in less than thirty minutes. Our guide prodded us towards the path for Mt. Sinai. It is a seven kilometer hike, and camel riders heckle each group up the mountain. It was horrible.

The previous night I had stomach problems and had not slept, so my tolerance for obnoxious heckling was nil and my energy level with only a few notches above that. Midway, I stepped aside and told Zach to fetch me on his return journey.

For the first time in Egypt, I was surrounded by complete silence. The sun was bright while the wind was chilly. Blue skies. Perched on the side of the mountain I took out my Nook and began reading the Bible, starting with the famine of Egypt under Joseph's rule. This trip was the closest I had ever been to biblical sites and it was poignant. For the first time, I could read a bit, glance up and actually picture the scene. The magnitude of the Red Sea parting. I understood the desolate feeling of being stuck in a desert. I could truly imagine Moses, who was not a young chap, trying to get up the mountain. It was a beautiful experience for me.

Unfortunately, my Nook eventually died, the sun began setting and it was extremely cold. I left the mountain, only to find that our van was not there. A shopkeeper invited me into his shop, trying so hard to ensure my comfort. Sadly, after my experiences in Egypt I could not fully enjoy his hospitality in fear that he would demand payment at the end.

It got colder. Hours passed. There as no sign of the van or Zach. I continued to have great conversation with my host. Eventually, Zach returned, frozen, weary and not the most thrilled that he had actually climbed to the top. However, he kept telling me that on his trek upwards, in between grumbles he would declare that he would not be an elder that only got halfway. It was a "been there, done that" moment for him. We actually had a good laugh when I said that God is probably thinking, "Um, guys, the real location is two mountains to the left."

With Zach's arrival, the shopkeeper was excited to play dress-up with the foreigners. We graciously and profusely thanked him for his hospitality and walked to the main building expecting an immediate departure.

Two and a half hours later, our van showed up. It was the coldest wait. My feet were frozen. My fingers numb. Breakfast had long left us. We were cranky. A journey that was suppose to be finished at three or four actually ended at 8pm. We were so happy to see Dahab.

Overall, it was a good day trip. We felt it was pricey for what we actually got to see/do, plus having to wait for our van did not add to the experience. Even talking with fellow travelers, not one person was overly excited about the place. For most it was the "I'm glad I did it" response. We agreed.

Highway of Hell

The bus ride returning to Cairo trumped the train in so many ways. Nonetheless, I have dealt with way too many overnight ventures on this leg of our travels; I really detest night traveling. After watching another sunrise from another mode of transportation, we were left on Ramsis train station's curb. We headed directly to Cairo Gateway in search of a bus to Dahab.

We were in luck. We arrived at the bus station at 7:30am, a bus left for Dahab at 8am. At 8:10 we were the only people on the bus and we were getting out of Cairo...again.  

After a quick pit stop for breakfast (instigated by the driver), we faced the Cairo traffic. Zach commented that this ride could be the best journey, the true VIP treatment. It wasn't to be.

Our driver was a jolly older man with an infectious laugh, while his backup was the typical Egyptian male with round glasses and a red-checkered headdress. They were enthralled with the morning prayers playing over the PA and very hospitable to the foreigners. As we finished off our breakfast, traffic continued to crawl. International driving is an art form and our driver was weaving the bus constantly, trying to find the niche a little farther up. During his maneuvers, he cut off a mini neon green car. Typical behavior. Unfortunately, the passengers of the green car were not in a good mood and instigated a road rage escalation. Bus driver taunted. The green car taunted. Back and forth. A passenger from the green car upped the ante when he took a pipe to the front of the bus and ran. The bus driver couldn't let it go, following and tailing as close as he could. Cutting off again. It came to a climax when the same passenger took to pipe-beating the entire side of the bus when we stopped again in traffic. The gauntlet had been thrown, and our driver and back-up evacuated the bus leaving behind a web of Arabic obscenities. Zach and I dashed to the back of the bus and hid. It was a mob mentality and with traffic in a snafu, the crowd was immediate.

An hour later, we returned to the bus station. We left at 10:30am with more passengers. Two and a half hours on a bus and we hadn't left Cairo.

We crossed into the Sinai Peninsula early afternoon. We were passed by the actual 10:30 bus that we had foregone for the 8am bus. Three hours from Dahab, we stopped again. Confused by the sudden standstill, I looked out the front window to see checkered headdresses and thobe-clad men prancing around burning tires. Another protest. The crowd gathered, the traffic backed up and once again we found ourselves stuck. Zach was sleeping and I was going to leave him that way until another passenger suggested that I wake him up--just in case. The fellow passenger was genuinely worried for our safety and took time to make sure we were not scared and upset. We were neither, just cranky that we were close to twenty four hours on a bus. However, we did not get out of the bus to get a closer look.

Though no other passengers spoke English, we could tell by tone and gestures that they were not happy with the situation. Even Zach and I were questioning the purpose, even more so when guns were shot to dispel the crowd. Two hours later, we were able to get through when the fires had died down and the stock of tires had been depleted.

A bus journey that should have taken seven hours took twelve. We arrived in Dahab without lodging and severely empty stomachs. We quickly found an internet cafe, took a chance at couchsurfing, but ended up booking a room at the local hostel, Dahab Dorms. We found food. We checked in and collapsed in our respective twin beds. It was a hell of a day.

Karnak Temple

The Karnak Temple is amazing. We could have spent days exploring its vast grounds and investigating its artistry. There were crowds, but because it is so large it didn't matter. 

Since we were leaving Luxor on a night bus, we had our packs with us. To enjoy our time, we decided to divide and conquer--one stayed with the bags while the other meandered. Zach went first, returning with wide eyes and rave reviews. He wasn't wrong.

A highlight for me were the columns created to mimic papyrus reeds. They towered. They were intricately carved. They were beautiful. Pictures are inadequate. 

We had a great time playing among the behemoth statues. We were grown kids in an ancient playground. 

The Valleys

Passing the hagglers and ignoring the constant "you are going the wrong way" diversion tactics, we made our way onto the Nile ferry. Under the morning sun, we perched ourselves on the upper deck. A few minutes later, another traveler made his way to us, toting a pack. Typical greeting conversation ensued--where are you from/where are you going/what do you think of Egypt? His name was Tom; an Englishman on a voyage around the world to discover himself. After further discussion, we quickly deduced that he was recently divorced. He admitted to being a green traveler, new to the the wandering world. By the end of the ferry ride, we had semi-agreed to join forces to conquer the west bank for he had a local connection. Unfortunately, upon meeting his connection, Zach and I realized that his 'mate's (who lives in England)-brother' was scamming. We graciously bowed out, wished him well and bartered our own ride for the day for half the price. Granted our ride was a beat-up station wagon that reeked of leaking gas, but it was drive-able and the driver was eager to earn a wage.

Per recommendations, we started our day in the Valley of the Nobles. It should be more aptly known as the Hillside of the Nobles for it was missing half of its valley. It is not the popular location, so we practically had full run of the location. Though NO PHOTO signs were posted, I balked and clicked away. We have yet to figure out Egypt's disdain for photography. We have our theories, but it is quite maddening.

Our ticket allowed us to enter three tombs. Unlike royal tomb decor, the hieroglyphics in these tombs focused on daily life and festivals. Ramose's tombs was the most extravagant in space, with an impressive entry way filled with massive columns and three subsequent chambers. However, the tombs of Ouserhat and Khaemhat were the most dramatic in artistry. Even after after centuries, the colors were vibrant and beautiful.

The hillside was peppered with entrances; many concreted or stoned closed. Numbers chalked onto chunks of plywood hung from the door frames. There were no names, no forms of identification; burial chambers thoroughly investigated by archaeologists, then closed for the ages.

Zach requested that we visit the Valley of the Kings, as he really wanted to see if it looked anything like the Valley of the Sith depicted in his Star Wars books.

The map of the valley gives the impression of a gigantic place, but to our astonishment, we walked the entire thing in fifteen minutes. Cameras are not allowed on the premise (which was disappointing), but Zach was thrilled that it was a valley and it did reinforce his Valley of the Sith imagery.

Our entrance fee allowed us to enter three tombs. Most tombs were closed and two tombs required extra fees; one being King Tut, which is funny because it is empty and the loot is at the Egyptian Museum. Since the selection was limited, we visited the tombs of Tausert/Setrakht, Ramses II and Ramses IV. They were magnificent, huge, majestic, awe-inspiring and a completely unknown story for we don't know how to read pictographs. Actually, we had a lot of fun fabricating stories based on Zach's Stargate knowledge and what I had read in the Rick Riordan series, The Kane Chronicles.

By chance, our time in the valley was during the lull period of tour buses, so we got to loiter through the tombs without many interruptions.

Later that evening, having returned to our hotel, we decided to tune into BBC World News. Much to our surprise it was announced that a new tomb had been discovered in the Valley of the Kings, a tomb of a wife. We had seen the tent and archaeologists, but thought nothing of it. That was a good capstone to the day.

Luxor

I never thought there would be a day when I considered Chinese trains a notch better than something, but it occurred on an Egyptian train bound for Luxor. Misery encapsulates the twelve hour jaunt south. For some bizarre reason foreigners are not allowed to travel during the day and the night train shows the worst of Egyptian travel. The florescent lights remained on throughout the entire journey, continual shouts of vendors selling tea filled the car and the cold temperatures thwarted sleep. The minor distraction was an adorable Egyptian child (with the biggest brown eyes), who was fascinated by the foreigner sitting across the aisle from him. We shared many giggles together and he left a nasty scratch on my nose.

The train torture ended at 7:30am. After barging through the barricade of taxis, we sought solace in McDonalds. The golden arches are a beacon for the weary and hungry around the world and we are no different. Plus, this one had the best view of Luxor Temple in the morning light.

After our stomachs were sated, we began the hunt for our hotel. A popular scam with travelers is for locals to tell them that their hotel is really bad/closed/destroyed in hopes of luring them to another hotel, one that provides them with commission. We weren't buying it, but three hours later and an internet cafe pit stop, we realized that THE Luxor hotel was destroyed but the El Luxor (unknown to locals by this name) was perfectly fine and located on the one street we had not explored.

We checked in and vowed to hide from the world. We slept.

Zach continued to sleep while I relocated poolside around 2pm. Under warm sunshine, I struck up conversations with fellow sun soakers. It was an invasion of the elderly, British wealthy; all who balked at our audacity to even consider going to Cairo. In their words, "Everyone knows not to go to Cairo!" The admonishing quickly turned to piqued interest upon hearing that I live and work in China. I answered their endless questions.

The sun set, Zach awoke and we ate dinner at a wonderful Italian restaurant. Ironically, the food choices in this country are falafel/hummus/pita or Italian food. It is bizarre.

We took an evening stroll along the Nile, still pestered by shouts of "taxi" and (a new one) "kaleesh" (horse drawn carriage). It was annoying, but not nearly horrific as Cairo. It was Chinese-like heckling at its finest. We were starting to warm up to Egypt.

Farewell (finally), Cairo

We wanted out.

Never in all of our travels, together or apart, have we seriously contemplated changing plane tickets to get out of a country sooner than planned. We were at that point. However, we had train tickets for Luxor and we wanted to give Egypt another chance.

Though, before we could get out of Cairo, we had another bout of taxi drivers from hell. Four taxis and not one got us to our destination of the Citadel. Instead we ended up near the airport. Mind you, we had a map and the driver still could not get us to the location. We refused to get in another taxi, so we walked back. The highlight of the day was Cinnabon to go--which we shared with our host.

We did not leave the apartment again until we headed to the train station. On our way we saw another bout of the revolution--tear gas, fires and flinging objects.

We were headed to Luxor; we were so happy.