I've been listening to this song an awful lot lately - a good four times/day on average (eeee!). I like the progression of it, and it seems like how it would feel to ride a rainbow out of a rainbow cloud. Just after a spring shower. (Revision: I prefer this version as opposed to the previous live version I had up earlier.)
("What Would I Want? Sky" from Animal Collective's November 2009 EP: Fall Be Kind)
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Friday, October 29, 2010
EARTHQUAKE BUS!! (and others)
I arrived in McLeod Ganj (AKA Upper Dharamsala) and I'm gonna go see the Dalai Lama! Or maybe at least see the place that he resides when home? We'll see. I only have 4-5 days here then back to Delhi, hop a day train to Agra, come on back and then (GASP!), fly to Korea next Thursday!! LESS THAN A WEEK! I can't believe it... so we're going to pack it in every day!
I am becoming [in certain situations] a very patient person. Last night I sped walked (pack in tow) down the dusty Main Bazaar street in the Paharganj area of Delhi behind my bus ticket arranger for what seemed like a mile, then I crammed into a rickshaw with two Israeli girls (who just arrived in India that morning) and the ride was so long that I started to wonder whether or not the bus man failed to mention that we'd be taking that the whole way. Once at the bus... oh, that bus! I don't even know where to begin.
The stains on the seats were nothing compared to the broken ones - some didn't recline at all, some reclined all the way; some didn't have covers, some didn't have armrests. I picked a seat and sat down as you do on a bus, but the invisible seat numbers indicated by the frantic gesturing of the bus guys meant I needed to move not once, but twice and all the way to the back of the bus. Back of the bus? Fun! Not so much... (Note: I'm not upset about this journey in the slightest, in fact it was probably the best mode of transportation thus far given the stories it provided - close second is the roach-infested sleeper car from Mumbai to Udipi where I spooned my backpack.) The bench in the back didn't recline - it was a full on "L" - and the people in front didn't care so much and so they reclined comfortably. The thin foam pad we sat on flaked off on everything and the window didn't close all the way, which was good until we started getting further up north and further into the night. Dimly lit and slightly mildewy in smell, but that's nothing new.
The fun started when there were five of us already crammed onto the bench (TWO - that's right! not one, but TWO Americans did I meet!! We'll get to them in a minute) and because one of the seats was broken into an unsittable state the bus men wanted to put the broken chair man on the bench with the rest of us (the three Americans, the Nepalese engineer, the older Korean lady who wanted to sit with her mother but was pushed to the bench). We protested; we fought; we said, "NO WAY, Jose!" The Nepalese guy to the left of us suggested finding a strong branch or metal rod to keep the broken seat semi-attached to the good one. 15-20 minutes later they tied a handkerchief around the seat back handles. Wow. (The seat broke a little more every minute, and by the morning time it was hanging on by a wire and laying in the person behind it's lap.)
Once we started rolling it was the usual bumpy, dusty, exhaust-filled, horn blaring ride. (India's roads are actually louder and bumpier than any I've experienced, and granted that experience is limited to North America and Asia, I think it's safe to say that these roads are the loudest in the whole world.) The funky horn tune was fun the first four times, but then it just started feeling like I was on a runaway circus bus. (Note: The bump-jumps(!) on the road - full on out of your seat, so much so that in describing landing back on his seat, John said the only word for it was "anus stretcher": that's what I'm talking about when I say the back was a bit uncomfortable - and the rocking back and forth through the mountain lead to the title 'earthquake bus'.)
Another per usual, (so it seems) we stopped and picked up a few errands - which would be oh-so fun to drop off later - outside of Delhi. Midnight came and went with little sleep being had from rocking my sleeping head against any number of objects within head-fall range and trying to reason/push with/against the ajumma in front of me who kept trying to recline her seat further and further.
At 3:30 we made another unexpected stop. There was a red Goods Carrier truck tilted from being stuck in a huge pothole in the middle of the road (broken axle?). Our bus driver tried to go around it a few times after the bus in front of us didn't topple to its side. On the first try we didn't get enough gas. On the second try we ripped the red truck's side mirror off. On the third try two upper windows broke on the bus**! All the while this is happening, the bus riders being sleepy and confused are "WHOA"ing and "EEE"ing in a somewhat delighted horror (we all knew this was going to make an excellent story if we made it to M.G. in one piece). After the glass broke everyone thought it best to get out. We walked out into the shiver-inducing crisp mountain air and looked on as the other truck and bus drivers that had been spectators only moments before began digging out the hill around the side of the G.C. truck. After about 10 minutes of digging and a few unsuccessful (read: more glass shattering - all the while I'm just thinking about how cold it's going to be on the bus now, and also how glad I am that I'm sitting on that bench in the back after all) tries to get through, the driver makes it around the truck!! ...And then he keeps driving for some distance causing us to look at each other, "Is he not going to stop?" and then start running after him and shouting "Wait! Come back! You forgot about us!" in our respective languages. (I could just imagine the driver sitting up there in his chair, looking out his side mirror - still intact due to the low height and degree of GC slant - laughing and wondering how far he can make us go.)
The morning brought misty mountains in the dawning day and windy mountain passes that our driver insisted on taking on like a mad man. The older French men said that this wasn't the road they've been on before and all the villagers watched in confused interest as our giant, rickety bus clambered through their sleepy states blasting its "Come join the circus!" continuous horn.
Long story short: we were supposed to leave at 5:30p, but didn't pull out of the parking lot until a little after 7p. That should have put us in M.G. by 7am, but we got in just after 11a instead. Lovely way to start the day! A chai and a nap in my 150rs/night (ASAH!!!) room followed by a "hot" shower and frozen toes are all the in between things from now and then.
Since I just started walking around this place I don't know much, but I do know I like it, and already feel myself wanting to spend more time than I'm able to. Let's enjoy it while we can!
OH! And the Americans!! Beth and John from CO, both 39. Really cool people. They quit their jobs (medical ethnologist and aerospace engineer, respectively - impressive, right?) so they could travel the world for a year! So cool! They are the only unplanned Americans (as I saw friends from Korea in Mumbai, and my buddy Lauren and a few of her friends in Goa) I've encountered in India, and since the Vietnam-Cambodia bus. It's really great to meet fellow countrymen, I think all travelers can agree to that, because it's so nice to share something abroad with someone from your homeland - this is true for anybody, not just countrymen, even though shared homeland and language are really nice to find. All the Americans I've met on this trip have been pretty awesome - aside from one chick in Pai who had been traveling for just over 2 years and she was acting all holier than thou and being a braggart, but she was from Chicago's suburbs so what can you expect? (Zing!) Just kidding. I know a lot of genuinely wonderful quality people from the suburbs of Chicago.
Totally unrelated (but do you expect anything less from me?) when I was staying in Goa, the first couple days the shop ladies kept asking me if I was English and then telling me that they loved my white skin (I'm not that white. I thought), then they would say that I looked like I was 20, and I knew they were lying through our whole conversation. It's almost as if they knew the moment that I was figuring them out that they sprung. "You look at my shop?" And the anklets, bracelets and necklaces start appearing on your lap or the blanket they stealthily spread out while you blinked. Wait! I said I wasn't going to buy anything. "It's okay. You just have look for good luck." Whose good luck, lady?
INDIA! I love you.
**All the crunching reminded me of the time when I moved myself up to Chicago in 2008 via U-Haul with my friend Lauren (same one who I saw in Goa!). After mastering the highways with a white-knuckled grip I thought I was more than ready to tackle the city streets of Chi City - and(!) parallel parking. I told Lauren that she didn't need to get out of the car; I could handle the task. As I'm reversing into the spot I hear a crunch-crunch-crunch, look over at a worried face Lauren who says, "I think you just hit a car."
Me: No, no. That's just ice. (It being the first of March and there's still winter on the ground.)
(Continue reversing.)
crunch-crunch-crunch
L: I don't think that's ice.
M: It's okay!
L: (oh shit/yeah right face)
(Continue reversing.)
crunch-crunch-crunch
M: (head in my hands) I don't think it is either.
L: Do you want me to get out and check?
M: Yeah...
L: (exits and shouts) Yep! You scraped it up pretty good.
So it was the truck behind me, but it was all the fault of a twisted metal bumper on the U-Haul so I left a note after L directed me perfectly, and insurance took care of everything. Phew!
I am becoming [in certain situations] a very patient person. Last night I sped walked (pack in tow) down the dusty Main Bazaar street in the Paharganj area of Delhi behind my bus ticket arranger for what seemed like a mile, then I crammed into a rickshaw with two Israeli girls (who just arrived in India that morning) and the ride was so long that I started to wonder whether or not the bus man failed to mention that we'd be taking that the whole way. Once at the bus... oh, that bus! I don't even know where to begin.
The stains on the seats were nothing compared to the broken ones - some didn't recline at all, some reclined all the way; some didn't have covers, some didn't have armrests. I picked a seat and sat down as you do on a bus, but the invisible seat numbers indicated by the frantic gesturing of the bus guys meant I needed to move not once, but twice and all the way to the back of the bus. Back of the bus? Fun! Not so much... (Note: I'm not upset about this journey in the slightest, in fact it was probably the best mode of transportation thus far given the stories it provided - close second is the roach-infested sleeper car from Mumbai to Udipi where I spooned my backpack.) The bench in the back didn't recline - it was a full on "L" - and the people in front didn't care so much and so they reclined comfortably. The thin foam pad we sat on flaked off on everything and the window didn't close all the way, which was good until we started getting further up north and further into the night. Dimly lit and slightly mildewy in smell, but that's nothing new.
The fun started when there were five of us already crammed onto the bench (TWO - that's right! not one, but TWO Americans did I meet!! We'll get to them in a minute) and because one of the seats was broken into an unsittable state the bus men wanted to put the broken chair man on the bench with the rest of us (the three Americans, the Nepalese engineer, the older Korean lady who wanted to sit with her mother but was pushed to the bench). We protested; we fought; we said, "NO WAY, Jose!" The Nepalese guy to the left of us suggested finding a strong branch or metal rod to keep the broken seat semi-attached to the good one. 15-20 minutes later they tied a handkerchief around the seat back handles. Wow. (The seat broke a little more every minute, and by the morning time it was hanging on by a wire and laying in the person behind it's lap.)
Once we started rolling it was the usual bumpy, dusty, exhaust-filled, horn blaring ride. (India's roads are actually louder and bumpier than any I've experienced, and granted that experience is limited to North America and Asia, I think it's safe to say that these roads are the loudest in the whole world.) The funky horn tune was fun the first four times, but then it just started feeling like I was on a runaway circus bus. (Note: The bump-jumps(!) on the road - full on out of your seat, so much so that in describing landing back on his seat, John said the only word for it was "anus stretcher": that's what I'm talking about when I say the back was a bit uncomfortable - and the rocking back and forth through the mountain lead to the title 'earthquake bus'.)
Another per usual, (so it seems) we stopped and picked up a few errands - which would be oh-so fun to drop off later - outside of Delhi. Midnight came and went with little sleep being had from rocking my sleeping head against any number of objects within head-fall range and trying to reason/push with/against the ajumma in front of me who kept trying to recline her seat further and further.
At 3:30 we made another unexpected stop. There was a red Goods Carrier truck tilted from being stuck in a huge pothole in the middle of the road (broken axle?). Our bus driver tried to go around it a few times after the bus in front of us didn't topple to its side. On the first try we didn't get enough gas. On the second try we ripped the red truck's side mirror off. On the third try two upper windows broke on the bus**! All the while this is happening, the bus riders being sleepy and confused are "WHOA"ing and "EEE"ing in a somewhat delighted horror (we all knew this was going to make an excellent story if we made it to M.G. in one piece). After the glass broke everyone thought it best to get out. We walked out into the shiver-inducing crisp mountain air and looked on as the other truck and bus drivers that had been spectators only moments before began digging out the hill around the side of the G.C. truck. After about 10 minutes of digging and a few unsuccessful (read: more glass shattering - all the while I'm just thinking about how cold it's going to be on the bus now, and also how glad I am that I'm sitting on that bench in the back after all) tries to get through, the driver makes it around the truck!! ...And then he keeps driving for some distance causing us to look at each other, "Is he not going to stop?" and then start running after him and shouting "Wait! Come back! You forgot about us!" in our respective languages. (I could just imagine the driver sitting up there in his chair, looking out his side mirror - still intact due to the low height and degree of GC slant - laughing and wondering how far he can make us go.)
The morning brought misty mountains in the dawning day and windy mountain passes that our driver insisted on taking on like a mad man. The older French men said that this wasn't the road they've been on before and all the villagers watched in confused interest as our giant, rickety bus clambered through their sleepy states blasting its "Come join the circus!" continuous horn.
Long story short: we were supposed to leave at 5:30p, but didn't pull out of the parking lot until a little after 7p. That should have put us in M.G. by 7am, but we got in just after 11a instead. Lovely way to start the day! A chai and a nap in my 150rs/night (ASAH!!!) room followed by a "hot" shower and frozen toes are all the in between things from now and then.
Since I just started walking around this place I don't know much, but I do know I like it, and already feel myself wanting to spend more time than I'm able to. Let's enjoy it while we can!
OH! And the Americans!! Beth and John from CO, both 39. Really cool people. They quit their jobs (medical ethnologist and aerospace engineer, respectively - impressive, right?) so they could travel the world for a year! So cool! They are the only unplanned Americans (as I saw friends from Korea in Mumbai, and my buddy Lauren and a few of her friends in Goa) I've encountered in India, and since the Vietnam-Cambodia bus. It's really great to meet fellow countrymen, I think all travelers can agree to that, because it's so nice to share something abroad with someone from your homeland - this is true for anybody, not just countrymen, even though shared homeland and language are really nice to find. All the Americans I've met on this trip have been pretty awesome - aside from one chick in Pai who had been traveling for just over 2 years and she was acting all holier than thou and being a braggart, but she was from Chicago's suburbs so what can you expect? (Zing!) Just kidding. I know a lot of genuinely wonderful quality people from the suburbs of Chicago.
Totally unrelated (but do you expect anything less from me?) when I was staying in Goa, the first couple days the shop ladies kept asking me if I was English and then telling me that they loved my white skin (I'm not that white. I thought), then they would say that I looked like I was 20, and I knew they were lying through our whole conversation. It's almost as if they knew the moment that I was figuring them out that they sprung. "You look at my shop?" And the anklets, bracelets and necklaces start appearing on your lap or the blanket they stealthily spread out while you blinked. Wait! I said I wasn't going to buy anything. "It's okay. You just have look for good luck." Whose good luck, lady?
INDIA! I love you.
**All the crunching reminded me of the time when I moved myself up to Chicago in 2008 via U-Haul with my friend Lauren (same one who I saw in Goa!). After mastering the highways with a white-knuckled grip I thought I was more than ready to tackle the city streets of Chi City - and(!) parallel parking. I told Lauren that she didn't need to get out of the car; I could handle the task. As I'm reversing into the spot I hear a crunch-crunch-crunch, look over at a worried face Lauren who says, "I think you just hit a car."
Me: No, no. That's just ice. (It being the first of March and there's still winter on the ground.)
(Continue reversing.)
crunch-crunch-crunch
L: I don't think that's ice.
M: It's okay!
L: (oh shit/yeah right face)
(Continue reversing.)
crunch-crunch-crunch
M: (head in my hands) I don't think it is either.
L: Do you want me to get out and check?
M: Yeah...
L: (exits and shouts) Yep! You scraped it up pretty good.
So it was the truck behind me, but it was all the fault of a twisted metal bumper on the U-Haul so I left a note after L directed me perfectly, and insurance took care of everything. Phew!
Thursday, October 21, 2010
"What are you looking for?"
"What are you looking for?" Seb called as I was searching the dewy grass over with my flashlight. Looking for whatever insect was shining like a beacon. But it (the question) speaks true for my journey here, and elsewhere. And to answer it... I haven't the slightest. What am I looking for? An answer? What kind of answer am I hoping for?
The farm proved to be so much more useful in life application then I ever could've imagined. I thought I was going to learn a little bit about how to work the land (truth be told, I've always wanted to live on a commune... and now even more I want to work, if not volunteer, but mostly work on a ranch in Montana! MONTANA! I've never been. The BIG Sky state. I can't imagine the stars there at night. Breath-taking, I imagine.), but I ended up learning a whole lot about myself, and it was really overwhelming - both in a good and bad way.
The last night that Seb was there (he ended up leaving early because he needed to go meet his gf in another area, and boy! I really did not like living in the woods by myself. Paranoia took over at night, especially after reading this book about how human bones that date back to over 100 million years ago have been discovered, and how Harry and the Hendersons Neanderthals are actually still around today, but we call them "Sasquatch" and "Yeti" and other things of that nature. I was thinking about them when I heard branches break, and yes, because I couldn't lock the doors of the house and my room I put barriers up between them and me as an alarm. Okay, so I'm 25, but you try living in the basically wilderness by yourself and see if you don't behave the same way. Okay?) we had a big discussion - well, really he just talked a lot about society's problems and how we can't really change anything but ourselves (and it's basically true) and the world's ideologies and not having attachment to things and family (but I can't not attach to my family, I love them, and he said it wasn't about love, but they're just people... oh! I can't even comprehend most of the things he talked about, I'm not ready for it yet. As you might be able to tell from my ramblings.) and after I found myself gritting my teeth thinking that he'd never stop lecturing - in a sense - he asked me how I was doing, how I felt about everything, or something along those lines, and before I knew it, I was spilling my guts out to him. From everything we had talked about from my own views to family life, relationships, to fears and dreams, things I had only thought about and written about for who knows how long - to have someone actually listen to them - with genuine interest and non-judgement - and to respond, it was like a huge weight was lifted off my chest and I could actually breathe! "Huh! So this is how I really do feel!" It was quite a marvelous thing, and I really appreciate meeting Seb because he was truly a wonderful human being; I asked him what his dream was, and he said, "To see all the people of the world love each other." and it might seem a bit corny, but I guess it really shouldn't, because why can't we? As the Indian man who I met in the Krishna temple in Udipi (or Udupi, either is correct) yesterday said, "We're worse than the animals." in terms of our behavior towards each other and the world, too, I suppose. Then Seb asked me what my dream was, and sheepishly I responded that I wanted to share other people's stories. It didn't seem as grand on the human scale of things, pretty selfish actually, but it's true. That is my dream. I know I have a lot of work to do before I get there, but there's a Louisa May Alcott quote that I really love (and I'm going to paraphrase here) where she talks about how up in the stars that's where her dreams lie, and while she may not reach them, she always knows they're there and she can see them and long for them. And who knows if that's really relevant to what I'm typing or not. I'm just throwing out a whole bunch of thoughts right now because the keyboard is at my fingertips.
And going back to my fears, I think my main one is about change. Because after this whole experience abroad, how can I not change? How will I change? Or what if I don't, and I stay the same? I don't think I was that terrible a person before I left? Maybe I was even good? I'm not sure? But, I just feel, after seeing the way that other people live (and how we're all pretty much the same) that I should be a bit different. Will I still be able to relate? I don't know. I honestly and truly don't know. And that's terrifying to me, but also exciting. I just - sigh - don't know. According to the Buddha, that's a good place to be, and I remember in talking to an older gentleman at a Chicago Dramatists' function way back when in 2008(?) that he said that no one really knows anything from what's going on to what they want to be, they just get better at pretending as they get older.
So, rambly, bambly, boo. That's - I guess - all I have to say to you. Goodnight, and adieu, plus, most likely, I love you.
The farm proved to be so much more useful in life application then I ever could've imagined. I thought I was going to learn a little bit about how to work the land (truth be told, I've always wanted to live on a commune... and now even more I want to work, if not volunteer, but mostly work on a ranch in Montana! MONTANA! I've never been. The BIG Sky state. I can't imagine the stars there at night. Breath-taking, I imagine.), but I ended up learning a whole lot about myself, and it was really overwhelming - both in a good and bad way.
The last night that Seb was there (he ended up leaving early because he needed to go meet his gf in another area, and boy! I really did not like living in the woods by myself. Paranoia took over at night, especially after reading this book about how human bones that date back to over 100 million years ago have been discovered, and how Harry and the Hendersons Neanderthals are actually still around today, but we call them "Sasquatch" and "Yeti" and other things of that nature. I was thinking about them when I heard branches break, and yes, because I couldn't lock the doors of the house and my room I put barriers up between them and me as an alarm. Okay, so I'm 25, but you try living in the basically wilderness by yourself and see if you don't behave the same way. Okay?) we had a big discussion - well, really he just talked a lot about society's problems and how we can't really change anything but ourselves (and it's basically true) and the world's ideologies and not having attachment to things and family (but I can't not attach to my family, I love them, and he said it wasn't about love, but they're just people... oh! I can't even comprehend most of the things he talked about, I'm not ready for it yet. As you might be able to tell from my ramblings.) and after I found myself gritting my teeth thinking that he'd never stop lecturing - in a sense - he asked me how I was doing, how I felt about everything, or something along those lines, and before I knew it, I was spilling my guts out to him. From everything we had talked about from my own views to family life, relationships, to fears and dreams, things I had only thought about and written about for who knows how long - to have someone actually listen to them - with genuine interest and non-judgement - and to respond, it was like a huge weight was lifted off my chest and I could actually breathe! "Huh! So this is how I really do feel!" It was quite a marvelous thing, and I really appreciate meeting Seb because he was truly a wonderful human being; I asked him what his dream was, and he said, "To see all the people of the world love each other." and it might seem a bit corny, but I guess it really shouldn't, because why can't we? As the Indian man who I met in the Krishna temple in Udipi (or Udupi, either is correct) yesterday said, "We're worse than the animals." in terms of our behavior towards each other and the world, too, I suppose. Then Seb asked me what my dream was, and sheepishly I responded that I wanted to share other people's stories. It didn't seem as grand on the human scale of things, pretty selfish actually, but it's true. That is my dream. I know I have a lot of work to do before I get there, but there's a Louisa May Alcott quote that I really love (and I'm going to paraphrase here) where she talks about how up in the stars that's where her dreams lie, and while she may not reach them, she always knows they're there and she can see them and long for them. And who knows if that's really relevant to what I'm typing or not. I'm just throwing out a whole bunch of thoughts right now because the keyboard is at my fingertips.
And going back to my fears, I think my main one is about change. Because after this whole experience abroad, how can I not change? How will I change? Or what if I don't, and I stay the same? I don't think I was that terrible a person before I left? Maybe I was even good? I'm not sure? But, I just feel, after seeing the way that other people live (and how we're all pretty much the same) that I should be a bit different. Will I still be able to relate? I don't know. I honestly and truly don't know. And that's terrifying to me, but also exciting. I just - sigh - don't know. According to the Buddha, that's a good place to be, and I remember in talking to an older gentleman at a Chicago Dramatists' function way back when in 2008(?) that he said that no one really knows anything from what's going on to what they want to be, they just get better at pretending as they get older.
So, rambly, bambly, boo. That's - I guess - all I have to say to you. Goodnight, and adieu, plus, most likely, I love you.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
A Jewel on the Ground
I'm back at the base camp of the organic farm where I'm volunteering. I've been here a week, and I have another week to go before GOA!!! Gahhhhhh!! Exciting India.
This week has been a wild one. Wild, I tell you!
I'm learning so much about myself in talking with others and finding this place of solitude. I think this farm and work will be good for me. A nice respite from the chaos and stress that I've created for myself.
I'm reminded of this song when I get all crazy/worked up:
In choosing to do one thing we choose not to do another. To travel I choose to not live at home, to not work, to be on my own. Sacrifice of a thing must always be made in decision-making. No matter how much one wants, one can never have it all. For shame. For shame. And so, Mick Jagger & co. spring to mind from time to time:
When I got off the bus, Sattvic (an older Italian gentleman) was at the crossroads to drive me the rest of the way to the farm on the bumpiest, windiest road - ever. In describing the farm to me, he said, "this place is like a jewel on the ground." I clasped my hands together in anticipated delight. It's true; birdsong 24/7; there's a stream just below where I'm living and I bathe and do my laundry there; dragonflies dance above every surface from the rice paddies to the palm trees; mountains surround the as far as the eye can see. Pure magnificence all around, and when you turn the corner, just when you thought you saw it all, there is more to behold which makes your heart cry with joy of the beauty beyond anything you could imagine.
Given that it is a farm, there is work to do, and since the rainy season is coming to an end there is a lot of weeding and general farm maintenance to be done. WEEDING!! (My mother would be so proud to know that I do it without complaint!! And actually enjoy it!! Ah-wha?!) One day we (me and Sebastian - I'll get to him) had to dig holes for a fence because a neighbor's bull kept leaping over this stone wall and would eat the rice - I actually had to chase this bull, but he was too quick for me. Punk! But it's mostly been weeding. And weeding. And guess what? More weeding. My hands are covered in scratches and stained with mud and clay that might never come off. Ever. And I'm pretty certain I now have either Carpeltunnel's or arthritis in my right hand (and unrelated to weeding, but I think I broke my left knee because I tried to force myself into full lotus position - you don't do that. Crap!) from all the work. Seriously. But not really.
And since it's nature, there are a wide variety of the creepy crawlies as well as the awe-inspiring beautiful creatures (and the mischievous monkeys!!! They stole our bananas!!). LEECHES!! There are leeches here. Not like the big, fat ones from "Stand By Me" but like murderous little inchworms standing up on the leaves, sniffing for your blood (Sebastian said, "What can you do? They are made to suck our blood." Word). I was happy yesterday because I didn't have a-one on me, and while I was writing a letter (old school! you know with a pen and paper and you put it in an envelope and you go to the post office and you buy a stamp and you put it in the mail, and then some 5-7 days later someone is really happy when they open up their mailbox and see something other than a bill - oOOH!) I had a sinking feeling, so I reached down and felt on my foot, and BLAM! on the bottom, in between my toes was the fattest, greediest leech I've encountered. And since your blood apparently doesn't want to clot after, I was bleeding for at least 30 minutes while Seb and I played an intense few games of YAHTZEE! and 10,000. So, yeah, I jinxed myself. They don't hurt, they're just creepy and annoying. And I've seen the BIGGEST spiders in real life here (alive, not dead like the tarantulas they fry up at the bus stops in Cambodia - vomit) with their egg sacks under their bellies - all in preparation for Guam - they're as big as a baby's head. And jungle rats!! A cross between "Lady and the Tramp" and "The Princess Bride"'s ROUS's they're big enough to steal/eat a baby. (What's with me and baby measurements?!) And yesterday, Seb showed me a SEVEN FOOT LONG snakeskin he found walking back from the base camp. SEVEN FOOT!! I do NOT want to meet that mister in the forest on my walk home!! No no!
The food is mind-blowingly delicious! And I love eating with my hands! It's like every meal is Medieval Times, except there aren't any jousting shows to accompany.
There's so much more to write. I've been writing a lot in my journal every day, making discoveries, and writing letters, but now that I'm on the computer I'm overwhelmed with the sheer volume of what I've written. It's not that I don't want to share it with you, I do, it's just I need to finish another letter and then go to the post office and head back up the mountain.
One more thing before I go though (ooh! I haven't even told you about the people here yet [they're all Krishna devotees, but they don't push their beliefs on you which is a marvelous thing], but that will have to be a post in itself. Sheesh!), on the way down the mountain, Amrit (a 57-year old Jew from Connecticut) asked me what I want to do, and I answered that I have no clue other than to write. I'm confused right now, as to what I should be doing and where I should be doing it, and how I should do it... oy. Anyway, he said that that was a wonderful thing because it reminded him of this thing that Deepak Chopra said about how it's good to be at a crossroads with no clear direction because only then will you be open to new opportunities that are coming your way and that you hadn't thought of before. I think that's pretty nice, and hopefully that's the place where I am these days... hopefully.
As always, peace and love, people. Until next time...
This week has been a wild one. Wild, I tell you!
I'm learning so much about myself in talking with others and finding this place of solitude. I think this farm and work will be good for me. A nice respite from the chaos and stress that I've created for myself.
I'm reminded of this song when I get all crazy/worked up:
In choosing to do one thing we choose not to do another. To travel I choose to not live at home, to not work, to be on my own. Sacrifice of a thing must always be made in decision-making. No matter how much one wants, one can never have it all. For shame. For shame. And so, Mick Jagger & co. spring to mind from time to time:
When I got off the bus, Sattvic (an older Italian gentleman) was at the crossroads to drive me the rest of the way to the farm on the bumpiest, windiest road - ever. In describing the farm to me, he said, "this place is like a jewel on the ground." I clasped my hands together in anticipated delight. It's true; birdsong 24/7; there's a stream just below where I'm living and I bathe and do my laundry there; dragonflies dance above every surface from the rice paddies to the palm trees; mountains surround the as far as the eye can see. Pure magnificence all around, and when you turn the corner, just when you thought you saw it all, there is more to behold which makes your heart cry with joy of the beauty beyond anything you could imagine.
Given that it is a farm, there is work to do, and since the rainy season is coming to an end there is a lot of weeding and general farm maintenance to be done. WEEDING!! (My mother would be so proud to know that I do it without complaint!! And actually enjoy it!! Ah-wha?!) One day we (me and Sebastian - I'll get to him) had to dig holes for a fence because a neighbor's bull kept leaping over this stone wall and would eat the rice - I actually had to chase this bull, but he was too quick for me. Punk! But it's mostly been weeding. And weeding. And guess what? More weeding. My hands are covered in scratches and stained with mud and clay that might never come off. Ever. And I'm pretty certain I now have either Carpeltunnel's or arthritis in my right hand (and unrelated to weeding, but I think I broke my left knee because I tried to force myself into full lotus position - you don't do that. Crap!) from all the work. Seriously. But not really.
And since it's nature, there are a wide variety of the creepy crawlies as well as the awe-inspiring beautiful creatures (and the mischievous monkeys!!! They stole our bananas!!). LEECHES!! There are leeches here. Not like the big, fat ones from "Stand By Me" but like murderous little inchworms standing up on the leaves, sniffing for your blood (Sebastian said, "What can you do? They are made to suck our blood." Word). I was happy yesterday because I didn't have a-one on me, and while I was writing a letter (old school! you know with a pen and paper and you put it in an envelope and you go to the post office and you buy a stamp and you put it in the mail, and then some 5-7 days later someone is really happy when they open up their mailbox and see something other than a bill - oOOH!) I had a sinking feeling, so I reached down and felt on my foot, and BLAM! on the bottom, in between my toes was the fattest, greediest leech I've encountered. And since your blood apparently doesn't want to clot after, I was bleeding for at least 30 minutes while Seb and I played an intense few games of YAHTZEE! and 10,000. So, yeah, I jinxed myself. They don't hurt, they're just creepy and annoying. And I've seen the BIGGEST spiders in real life here (alive, not dead like the tarantulas they fry up at the bus stops in Cambodia - vomit) with their egg sacks under their bellies - all in preparation for Guam - they're as big as a baby's head. And jungle rats!! A cross between "Lady and the Tramp" and "The Princess Bride"'s ROUS's they're big enough to steal/eat a baby. (What's with me and baby measurements?!) And yesterday, Seb showed me a SEVEN FOOT LONG snakeskin he found walking back from the base camp. SEVEN FOOT!! I do NOT want to meet that mister in the forest on my walk home!! No no!
The food is mind-blowingly delicious! And I love eating with my hands! It's like every meal is Medieval Times, except there aren't any jousting shows to accompany.
There's so much more to write. I've been writing a lot in my journal every day, making discoveries, and writing letters, but now that I'm on the computer I'm overwhelmed with the sheer volume of what I've written. It's not that I don't want to share it with you, I do, it's just I need to finish another letter and then go to the post office and head back up the mountain.
One more thing before I go though (ooh! I haven't even told you about the people here yet [they're all Krishna devotees, but they don't push their beliefs on you which is a marvelous thing], but that will have to be a post in itself. Sheesh!), on the way down the mountain, Amrit (a 57-year old Jew from Connecticut) asked me what I want to do, and I answered that I have no clue other than to write. I'm confused right now, as to what I should be doing and where I should be doing it, and how I should do it... oy. Anyway, he said that that was a wonderful thing because it reminded him of this thing that Deepak Chopra said about how it's good to be at a crossroads with no clear direction because only then will you be open to new opportunities that are coming your way and that you hadn't thought of before. I think that's pretty nice, and hopefully that's the place where I am these days... hopefully.
As always, peace and love, people. Until next time...
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Southern India
I saw Mumbai flash by from a Fiat window. Zipped through the Victoria Central Trian station, Hanging Gardens and Gandhi's house/museum before crawling through the traffic to the LTT (I can't remember the spelling, but it was like Lokimatiyak...?) train station.
(I think I'll write out more details on my adventures once I get to Guam, but right now, not having regular internet access and not wanting to rewrite things I've just written in my journal all the time - but sometimes - keeps some of the stories from you... waiting for more!)
So I took a 17-ish hour train from Mumbai to Udupi (in the southern state of Karnataka) - probably should've gotten off in Kundapur(a) but from the looks of it there wasn't a bus stop there (there was though) - and then a I don't know how long bus ride... maybe only an hour, and now I'm at the base camp for the Eco Village where I'm to volunteer for the next two weeks - I'm thinking no internet after this until I get to Goa, or I'd really like to go to Hampi, and maybe they have internet there?
The train ride was fantastic, minus the cockroaches (fine! journal time, too much to recall in too short of time) GARUNGA!! I can't help but notice the shiny copper backs glinting in the afternoon sun, scurrying across seats and along walls. Just don't crawl on me, please!! I was in a sleeper car with 6 beds on one side of the aisle, and two on the other - I think there were about 8-9 of these little pods through the whole car, and it was a very long train. Very basic, and the bed was quite dirty - I slept on the top one because an older woman had it and I offered to change with her - and a bit small after I hooked myself into my backpack and shared the space (it's like what I imagine sleeping next to a stocky little person would be like... or an Ewok - not saying that those two things are relateable at all, except height-wise...) with all of my possessions; purse and shoes, additionally. Maybe they're only beetles... really small, fast, scary beetles. I'll never know. I'm on a TRAIN!!
-----------------------------------
As the train shook and clammered through the darkness (after the sky was painted pink then fading quickly with the setting sun) the lights and shadows from the people inside the train shone on the passing dark green scenery; flashes of light and silver, making it look at once like a waving sea being crossed by boat.
------------------------
She tried to squeeze her eyes shut to block out the sounds of scuttling cockroaches - she swore she could hear them getting nearer, and she became increasingly paranoid that she would involuntarily feast on hundreds, if not thousands, of them as the train rocked her into an uneasy sleep.
------------------
Being on this train reminds me of the opening scene from "The Music Man" except we're not singing.
------------
The kindness of strangers never ceases to amaze me. From the old woman in the train who got tears in her eyes when I told her I wanted to have my book (Stay Alive, My Son by Pin Yathay, a more detailed - though no less horrifying - story about Cambodia during the time of the Khmer Rouge) and made me write my name in it after I told her that she had to pass it on after she finished it. I think she told me that her daughter in Boston told her about it... then she told me that she was going to tell her daughter about me; she beamed.
This morning a family took me in a rickshaw from the train to the bus station, but before we went to the bus station, they treated me to breakfast and chai, and it was delicious, and so hard to eat without utensils, but I will learn because this food is heavenly delicious.
Peace and love, all. To tend the farm and other things I must go.
Oh! I'm covered in dirt right now (cleaning a little temple-like monument of a passed yogi...? this morning when I arrived) and paint flecks, but that didn't stop a group of four teenaged Indian boys from asking me to pose in a photo with them. "Seriously?" I said. "I'm flithy." They just smiled and wobbled their heads. "Okay. If that's what you want."
One of the dudes running this place is from Chicago!! Whoa! Granted he's lived here for 30 years, but still. My first unknown American (cause I know my friends in Mumbai...) in India.
More to say, but not enough time!
(I think I'll write out more details on my adventures once I get to Guam, but right now, not having regular internet access and not wanting to rewrite things I've just written in my journal all the time - but sometimes - keeps some of the stories from you... waiting for more!)
So I took a 17-ish hour train from Mumbai to Udupi (in the southern state of Karnataka) - probably should've gotten off in Kundapur(a) but from the looks of it there wasn't a bus stop there (there was though) - and then a I don't know how long bus ride... maybe only an hour, and now I'm at the base camp for the Eco Village where I'm to volunteer for the next two weeks - I'm thinking no internet after this until I get to Goa, or I'd really like to go to Hampi, and maybe they have internet there?
The train ride was fantastic, minus the cockroaches (fine! journal time, too much to recall in too short of time) GARUNGA!! I can't help but notice the shiny copper backs glinting in the afternoon sun, scurrying across seats and along walls. Just don't crawl on me, please!! I was in a sleeper car with 6 beds on one side of the aisle, and two on the other - I think there were about 8-9 of these little pods through the whole car, and it was a very long train. Very basic, and the bed was quite dirty - I slept on the top one because an older woman had it and I offered to change with her - and a bit small after I hooked myself into my backpack and shared the space (it's like what I imagine sleeping next to a stocky little person would be like... or an Ewok - not saying that those two things are relateable at all, except height-wise...) with all of my possessions; purse and shoes, additionally. Maybe they're only beetles... really small, fast, scary beetles. I'll never know. I'm on a TRAIN!!
-----------------------------------
As the train shook and clammered through the darkness (after the sky was painted pink then fading quickly with the setting sun) the lights and shadows from the people inside the train shone on the passing dark green scenery; flashes of light and silver, making it look at once like a waving sea being crossed by boat.
------------------------
She tried to squeeze her eyes shut to block out the sounds of scuttling cockroaches - she swore she could hear them getting nearer, and she became increasingly paranoid that she would involuntarily feast on hundreds, if not thousands, of them as the train rocked her into an uneasy sleep.
------------------
Being on this train reminds me of the opening scene from "The Music Man" except we're not singing.
------------
The kindness of strangers never ceases to amaze me. From the old woman in the train who got tears in her eyes when I told her I wanted to have my book (Stay Alive, My Son by Pin Yathay, a more detailed - though no less horrifying - story about Cambodia during the time of the Khmer Rouge) and made me write my name in it after I told her that she had to pass it on after she finished it. I think she told me that her daughter in Boston told her about it... then she told me that she was going to tell her daughter about me; she beamed.
This morning a family took me in a rickshaw from the train to the bus station, but before we went to the bus station, they treated me to breakfast and chai, and it was delicious, and so hard to eat without utensils, but I will learn because this food is heavenly delicious.
Peace and love, all. To tend the farm and other things I must go.
Oh! I'm covered in dirt right now (cleaning a little temple-like monument of a passed yogi...? this morning when I arrived) and paint flecks, but that didn't stop a group of four teenaged Indian boys from asking me to pose in a photo with them. "Seriously?" I said. "I'm flithy." They just smiled and wobbled their heads. "Okay. If that's what you want."
One of the dudes running this place is from Chicago!! Whoa! Granted he's lived here for 30 years, but still. My first unknown American (cause I know my friends in Mumbai...) in India.
More to say, but not enough time!
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
IN INDIA!!!
I made it! I'm here, and I'm hungry so I'm going to get some food to eat with my right hand, awkwardly...
A couple cats from my Korean days are staying at the same hotel that I'm at, by some crazy Lonely Planet coincidence.
The sky was pink when I came out of the Mumbai airport. Pink, probably because of the pollution, but it was quite beautiful still. Then I hopped in my Fiat taxi and zipping through the lanes we went... more like rattled along, but still.
INDIA!! I'm in it. Excellent.
Onward to the farmin' times tomorrow!!
A couple cats from my Korean days are staying at the same hotel that I'm at, by some crazy Lonely Planet coincidence.
The sky was pink when I came out of the Mumbai airport. Pink, probably because of the pollution, but it was quite beautiful still. Then I hopped in my Fiat taxi and zipping through the lanes we went... more like rattled along, but still.
INDIA!! I'm in it. Excellent.
Onward to the farmin' times tomorrow!!
Monday, October 4, 2010
Southeast Asia is for Lovers
The feelings haven't subsided:
I met a few cool cats tonight, but it hasn't helped the situation all together (in the wholeness of it)... I still feel like it'd be better to have someone entertain you throughout the day and dinner, and whisper things about people passing, and laugh about the weird ones or the conned ones (when it's not you). The ladies tonight helped me out in that they took a photo of me in my penguin, but the one girl, Lisa (named after my best friend, but not nearly as awesome) said she'd go to the Ping Pong show, that she wanted to see it too, but then we got there and she got "freaked out" by the people in line behind us. Man, I really wanted to go! Although I could almost feel the creepiness of the arena as the men started flooding in line behind us, but aren't we just as creepy because we wanted to go in the first place? Yesssssss. She got scared and wanted to leave; I wasn't going to stay by myself.
Southeast Asia, I love you. Next time I'm going to stay longer and bring a friend, or a lover - since that's the type of people you seem to be for. Couples everywhere! George John Paul Ringo made the same comment at the Full Moon party (is that a proper noun, all of it? I was a teacher of English. I should know... but yet I don't - they were babies, we don't do grammar.) about how Thailand was full of couples, and as single people we were best friends together, though he was 22 and running through the madness (like the fire jump rope) with wildness in his eyes, and all the while I kept saying, "I'm too old for this shit" and touching his beard when he came back to safety (those Scots! handsome fellows).We'll get to that, but mainly I'm just saying it'd be way more awesome to talk to someone about the awesome things that you were doing while you were doing them.
Like the other day in Vietnam when I tried on my penguin costume in my hotel room in Vung Tau just to make me laugh, and I decided to keep it on while I walked to the beach. I laughed about it. But then it was too hot to keep the head on while I walked to the beach, and I bet people were thinking, "Hey! Why's that girl wearing a tuxedo? And how did she tie her bowtie so nicely?" I bet that's what they said, or I was just thinking, "Hey. They're going to stare at me anyway." It was good. I got a photo on the beach from a guy trying to sell me a chair, but a cone-hat lady ran out of the frame when I said, "Hey! Let's take a photo together." No good. What can you do?
I'll try to message you from India. I'm going to vomit. India. I'm excited, but nervous. Like on the first day of 8th grade when I vomitted up my cereal (Cheeri-os, Honey Nut?) and orange juice... 8th grade? Lame! But a similar thing happened today when a woman was roasting up tarantulas to eat. I'll explain later. I retched. I didn't mean to, but seriously? I imagined trying it and having the spider come to life in my mouth. Too much.
I have to wake up at 5am tomorrow. Wish on me your spirit animals as I try to wake and you get to end your day. Oh. I miss you America, and you silly people who I haven't seen in so long (met my first American in over 2 weeks on the night bus to Phnom Penh).
I met a few cool cats tonight, but it hasn't helped the situation all together (in the wholeness of it)... I still feel like it'd be better to have someone entertain you throughout the day and dinner, and whisper things about people passing, and laugh about the weird ones or the conned ones (when it's not you). The ladies tonight helped me out in that they took a photo of me in my penguin, but the one girl, Lisa (named after my best friend, but not nearly as awesome) said she'd go to the Ping Pong show, that she wanted to see it too, but then we got there and she got "freaked out" by the people in line behind us. Man, I really wanted to go! Although I could almost feel the creepiness of the arena as the men started flooding in line behind us, but aren't we just as creepy because we wanted to go in the first place? Yesssssss. She got scared and wanted to leave; I wasn't going to stay by myself.
Southeast Asia, I love you. Next time I'm going to stay longer and bring a friend, or a lover - since that's the type of people you seem to be for. Couples everywhere! George John Paul Ringo made the same comment at the Full Moon party (is that a proper noun, all of it? I was a teacher of English. I should know... but yet I don't - they were babies, we don't do grammar.) about how Thailand was full of couples, and as single people we were best friends together, though he was 22 and running through the madness (like the fire jump rope) with wildness in his eyes, and all the while I kept saying, "I'm too old for this shit" and touching his beard when he came back to safety (those Scots! handsome fellows).We'll get to that, but mainly I'm just saying it'd be way more awesome to talk to someone about the awesome things that you were doing while you were doing them.
Like the other day in Vietnam when I tried on my penguin costume in my hotel room in Vung Tau just to make me laugh, and I decided to keep it on while I walked to the beach. I laughed about it. But then it was too hot to keep the head on while I walked to the beach, and I bet people were thinking, "Hey! Why's that girl wearing a tuxedo? And how did she tie her bowtie so nicely?" I bet that's what they said, or I was just thinking, "Hey. They're going to stare at me anyway." It was good. I got a photo on the beach from a guy trying to sell me a chair, but a cone-hat lady ran out of the frame when I said, "Hey! Let's take a photo together." No good. What can you do?
I'll try to message you from India. I'm going to vomit. India. I'm excited, but nervous. Like on the first day of 8th grade when I vomitted up my cereal (Cheeri-os, Honey Nut?) and orange juice... 8th grade? Lame! But a similar thing happened today when a woman was roasting up tarantulas to eat. I'll explain later. I retched. I didn't mean to, but seriously? I imagined trying it and having the spider come to life in my mouth. Too much.
I have to wake up at 5am tomorrow. Wish on me your spirit animals as I try to wake and you get to end your day. Oh. I miss you America, and you silly people who I haven't seen in so long (met my first American in over 2 weeks on the night bus to Phnom Penh).
Sunday, October 3, 2010
[Back] In Phnom Penh
(From whatever day September 27th was. Written in Saigon/HCM, Vietnam on 2/10/10 until * and that's from 3/10/10)
I'm nervous, but I feel like it's important to go to the Killing Fields tomorrow. I couldn't go the first time I was in Phnom Penh, and I was sitting in my windowless room the first night trying to think of why. S-21 (Tuol Sleng) a Security Prison in Phnom Penh was the most awful thing I have ever seen.
It's both amazing and horrifying the things people are capable of.
I just came from Tuol Sleng Museum which used to be a big prison during the Khmer Rouge's reign. S-21. A place for intellectuals (long-haired, glasses wearing) subversives, and spies (read: innocent men, women and children).
Blood is still splattered on the ceilings of the once school turned prison's torture rooms. Torture and death by common tools or farm equipment was preferred to wasting the Khmer Rouge's "precious" bullets.
Photos of the solid soldiers didn't vary that much from photos of the prisoners in that they both had seen terrible things. The prisoners were different in that their stares were fearful, blank, pleading, shocked into the terrible realization that this is the last image they will leave behind on this planet. If there was a smile on a victim's face, then it was because a guard ordered a smile or forced a tickle (you could see a finger poking into a man). *Their faces wore fear, resignation, pride, disgust, betrayal, exhaustion, hunger, disappointment and anger.
Admission was $2. I paid a tour guide $6 and all the while wondered what role she played during this horrific time in her people's life. At the end, she explained to me; forced out of Phnom Peng with her parents in 1975, along with everyone else, sent to work in the fields, orphaned at age 14. Praying day after day to stay alive. Hungry, being told she was lazy and that Angkar first, and then Pol Pot, has no use for lazy people. She broke down into tears.
"Lazy girl! Lazy girl! But me so tired. Always me so hungry and tired. Two hours to sleep only. Work so hard. Never fast enough. Always say 'lazy girl' and then hit." She showed me the scars on her calf as she wiped away her tears. "1983 I go back to Phnom Penh. Alone. No family to take care of me."I can't imagine living through that and having to be the sole survivor of your family, and then to see the faces of the lost day after day. It must be so painful, especially with so many of the Khmer Rouge in high position with Cambodia's People Party. Reading First They Killed My Father gave me some insight, but it's still hard to face the place and the people first-hand. I can't imagine Phnom Penh evacuated in a day. Khmer Rouge greeted with cheers, then fled from in tears. This hustling bustling city with its streets full of cars, trucks, motos, cyclos, tuk tuks and smiling faces - gone. Deserted. Destroyed. By Cambodia's own.
I forgot to say, on my way crossing the street to S-21 I was accosted by a man with no face (like Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao)... okay, so not really... he just wanted help, and he did have a face, it had just been severely disfigured. It looked like he was wearing a no-nosed mask with acid burns and a milky white right eye. He laughed as I caught my breath and refused him. It surprised me, and as frightened as I was, I felt terrible for reacting in such a shocked manner.
October 3, 2010
I made it to the Killing Fields at Choeung Ek today (that's the one where they took most of the prisoners from S-21 to execute them)... a few hassles, and not thinking resulted in me having to pay $25 for a second Cambodian visa. I should've taken the bus from BKK to Siem Reap after taking the 12-hour long ferry from Koh Phangan, but then I wouldn't have seen the Portuguese pair from Pai on the way to the airport, or seen the dudes from Dubai again in the terminal. I wouldn't have stayed in a rose-covered ceilined tomb-like room, I wouldn't have met my friend's doppelgangers (yeah, two replicas!) in Vietnam, and you just can't regret the life you didn't lead. It comes down to that (more Oscar Wao stuff for you). It was good, and so I digress and get back to the topic at hand.
In the Democratic Kampuchea days (reign of terror that lasted from 1975-1979, officially), there were 189 prisons, 380 killing fields, and 19,403 mass graves.
The fields at Choeung Ek were found shortly after Cambodia was liberated on January 7, 1979. It was a Buddhist belief that remains needed to be preserved in a place of memorial and therefore a small wooden hut stored the remains of the victims at Choeung Ek until 1988 when major construction for a permanent memorial took place. The concrete stupa (mausoleum) was finished in 1989 and 8,000 victims' remains were moved to their final resting place. Each type of bone on a different level.
Duch, former KR chief of S-21 broke down while confessing to having ordered soldiers to kill babies and small children by holding their legs and swinging their heads into the trunks.
It's raining which seems fitting for this place. These fields aren't really what I imagined. A scene similar to death with bare land scarcely spotted with palm trees would feel more real than this beautiful place, lush with life. In the rainy season the fields and the graves flood; little pools everywhere with a sign Please don't walk through the mass graves!
Willows and lily pads, ferns and leaves.
As we were approaching with the storm clouds matching our speed on the horizon, a cool breeze felt like the souls rushing out.
(Some type of carnival Spanish-like music is playing in the distance with hooting and hollering. ) The music playing is a bit distracting with the "Hello... Hello... Hello. Hello. ... Hello." mic checks. (But at the same time it was the celebration of life, that music. And it served as a reminder that although there is death in a place, life can fill the sorrow with joy over time.) I hope it wasn't customary to have music play... there was a tree - Magic Tree - that was used as a place to hang a loud speaker to "make sound louder" over the victims' moans. Awful. I wonder if the sound covered up the splash of a fall during the rainy season. 300 people massacred in one day?! It doesn't make sense! Inhumane! Brutal. How did they do it - how could they? Day after day. Did they take shifts? Did they ever know the people they were killing? Did they become haunted first at night then all the time, or were they all completely numb and heartless, acting as a machine. No more, no less.
Duch (the baby killer) apologized and became a Christian; crying at his trial. Is he to be forgiven?
Well, what's done is done, but there shall be no more "eye for an eye." God, how I wish we could live in a world of peace, leaving violence in the past. Let us evolve. Coexist. Let's put the past of our parents in their past and act anew. Doesn't seem like it would really be that hard...
I'm nervous, but I feel like it's important to go to the Killing Fields tomorrow. I couldn't go the first time I was in Phnom Penh, and I was sitting in my windowless room the first night trying to think of why. S-21 (Tuol Sleng) a Security Prison in Phnom Penh was the most awful thing I have ever seen.
It's both amazing and horrifying the things people are capable of.
I just came from Tuol Sleng Museum which used to be a big prison during the Khmer Rouge's reign. S-21. A place for intellectuals (long-haired, glasses wearing) subversives, and spies (read: innocent men, women and children).
Blood is still splattered on the ceilings of the once school turned prison's torture rooms. Torture and death by common tools or farm equipment was preferred to wasting the Khmer Rouge's "precious" bullets.
Photos of the solid soldiers didn't vary that much from photos of the prisoners in that they both had seen terrible things. The prisoners were different in that their stares were fearful, blank, pleading, shocked into the terrible realization that this is the last image they will leave behind on this planet. If there was a smile on a victim's face, then it was because a guard ordered a smile or forced a tickle (you could see a finger poking into a man). *Their faces wore fear, resignation, pride, disgust, betrayal, exhaustion, hunger, disappointment and anger.
Admission was $2. I paid a tour guide $6 and all the while wondered what role she played during this horrific time in her people's life. At the end, she explained to me; forced out of Phnom Peng with her parents in 1975, along with everyone else, sent to work in the fields, orphaned at age 14. Praying day after day to stay alive. Hungry, being told she was lazy and that Angkar first, and then Pol Pot, has no use for lazy people. She broke down into tears.
"Lazy girl! Lazy girl! But me so tired. Always me so hungry and tired. Two hours to sleep only. Work so hard. Never fast enough. Always say 'lazy girl' and then hit." She showed me the scars on her calf as she wiped away her tears. "1983 I go back to Phnom Penh. Alone. No family to take care of me."I can't imagine living through that and having to be the sole survivor of your family, and then to see the faces of the lost day after day. It must be so painful, especially with so many of the Khmer Rouge in high position with Cambodia's People Party. Reading First They Killed My Father gave me some insight, but it's still hard to face the place and the people first-hand. I can't imagine Phnom Penh evacuated in a day. Khmer Rouge greeted with cheers, then fled from in tears. This hustling bustling city with its streets full of cars, trucks, motos, cyclos, tuk tuks and smiling faces - gone. Deserted. Destroyed. By Cambodia's own.
I forgot to say, on my way crossing the street to S-21 I was accosted by a man with no face (like Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao)... okay, so not really... he just wanted help, and he did have a face, it had just been severely disfigured. It looked like he was wearing a no-nosed mask with acid burns and a milky white right eye. He laughed as I caught my breath and refused him. It surprised me, and as frightened as I was, I felt terrible for reacting in such a shocked manner.
October 3, 2010
I made it to the Killing Fields at Choeung Ek today (that's the one where they took most of the prisoners from S-21 to execute them)... a few hassles, and not thinking resulted in me having to pay $25 for a second Cambodian visa. I should've taken the bus from BKK to Siem Reap after taking the 12-hour long ferry from Koh Phangan, but then I wouldn't have seen the Portuguese pair from Pai on the way to the airport, or seen the dudes from Dubai again in the terminal. I wouldn't have stayed in a rose-covered ceilined tomb-like room, I wouldn't have met my friend's doppelgangers (yeah, two replicas!) in Vietnam, and you just can't regret the life you didn't lead. It comes down to that (more Oscar Wao stuff for you). It was good, and so I digress and get back to the topic at hand.
In the Democratic Kampuchea days (reign of terror that lasted from 1975-1979, officially), there were 189 prisons, 380 killing fields, and 19,403 mass graves.
The fields at Choeung Ek were found shortly after Cambodia was liberated on January 7, 1979. It was a Buddhist belief that remains needed to be preserved in a place of memorial and therefore a small wooden hut stored the remains of the victims at Choeung Ek until 1988 when major construction for a permanent memorial took place. The concrete stupa (mausoleum) was finished in 1989 and 8,000 victims' remains were moved to their final resting place. Each type of bone on a different level.
Duch, former KR chief of S-21 broke down while confessing to having ordered soldiers to kill babies and small children by holding their legs and swinging their heads into the trunks.
It's raining which seems fitting for this place. These fields aren't really what I imagined. A scene similar to death with bare land scarcely spotted with palm trees would feel more real than this beautiful place, lush with life. In the rainy season the fields and the graves flood; little pools everywhere with a sign Please don't walk through the mass graves!
Willows and lily pads, ferns and leaves.
As we were approaching with the storm clouds matching our speed on the horizon, a cool breeze felt like the souls rushing out.
(Some type of carnival Spanish-like music is playing in the distance with hooting and hollering. ) The music playing is a bit distracting with the "Hello... Hello... Hello. Hello. ... Hello." mic checks. (But at the same time it was the celebration of life, that music. And it served as a reminder that although there is death in a place, life can fill the sorrow with joy over time.) I hope it wasn't customary to have music play... there was a tree - Magic Tree - that was used as a place to hang a loud speaker to "make sound louder" over the victims' moans. Awful. I wonder if the sound covered up the splash of a fall during the rainy season. 300 people massacred in one day?! It doesn't make sense! Inhumane! Brutal. How did they do it - how could they? Day after day. Did they take shifts? Did they ever know the people they were killing? Did they become haunted first at night then all the time, or were they all completely numb and heartless, acting as a machine. No more, no less.
Duch (the baby killer) apologized and became a Christian; crying at his trial. Is he to be forgiven?
Well, what's done is done, but there shall be no more "eye for an eye." God, how I wish we could live in a world of peace, leaving violence in the past. Let us evolve. Coexist. Let's put the past of our parents in their past and act anew. Doesn't seem like it would really be that hard...
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