This bus ride was an interesting one. Taking one vehicle from our hotel in Siem Reap, Cambodia we arrive at the border and cross on foot. After getting our visas stamped we walk into the no-man’s land between Cambodia and Thailand. The bus attendant says we have to wait for 30 minutes before we are allowed to finish the crossing. Why? We have no idea but oblige.

Soon we are ushered across, quickly get all the paperwork done and given the Thailand special, a “colored sticker” affixed to our chests letting the bus companies know who belongs to whom. Soon the red sticker group, us, is walked down the street to a non-shady area to wait for some mini-vans. After about 15 sweaty minutes, we all cram into the vans, are driven to an area to wait for a bus. Here we are given new yellow stickers and told to hold tight. Another 30 minutes goes by and the mother of all songthaews arrives. Seriously, the thing is huge and on we go. We ride, bumping along for about 25 minutes until we are dropped off, yet again. This time we stop at a hotel, are told to wait in the lobby, and (of course) given new stickers. At this rate we should arrive in Bangkok some time next week!

Finally, the actual bus to Bangkok shows up, and it was so worth the wait. I am completely overcome with joy when I see that we will be boarding the “Little Mermaid” bus. Ariel, Flounder, and a bunch of other sea creatures are spray-painted on, decorating the outside, and inspiring Scotty and I into a spirited rendition of “Under the Sea!” (I wish Emery was here, she would have surely known all the words and not have had to make some up like we did.)

Once in Bangkok we head straight for the “Prasuri Guesthouse.” Though we did not stay there the last time we were in town, the place was always full, we did scope it out and knew that it was cheap and decently clean. An English girl we met on the bus called ahead and secured rooms for us. We were worried that they would be full again and were happy when they had availability; we soon found out why!

It is Thai New Year, or Songkran festival (a three-day event) and the water fight antics are in full swing. Though it is already late, most of the water is flung during the hotter day-time hours, we decide to avoid Khoa San Road where we are likely to get doused. Not so much fun when you are carrying everything you own in a water-permeable pack on your back. We take Thanon Ratchadamnoen Klang, the wide east-west boulevard towards the Democracy Monument.

The usually busy street is bustling, but not with cars. The Democracy Monument has been overtaken by the protesting Red Shirts. The street is completely blocked off to any traffic and people are camped out everywhere. I see a man squatting in plain view on the sidewalk and am sad that I have not worn my close-toed shoes. Loud speakers blare on-going Thai tirades, and though we cannot see the speaker or understand the words, the emotion in the voice is unmistakable: anger, outrage, and a call to activism.

We turn the corner onto the street that will lead us to Prasuri and are greeted by 3 dismantled tanks in the street! The scene is unsettling. (We will later learn that the day before our arrival, protesters got into a armed conflict with military police leading to 21 deaths.) There was graffiti on walls, broken glass, remnants of torched vehicles, posters, and photos of the those recently killed or maimed in the conflict on display. One man was having a go at the tank with a large piece of wood. I was surprised how much damage had been done to the tanks at the protesters hands.

We take a right, literally, a block from where the protester area stops. Regardless of the calamity outside, we register for a room. No sooner do we drop our bags that Scotty wants to go outside for a look around. I reluctantly agree, but once we hit street level, I quickly change my mind and head back. I make him promise to be back by a specified time, lest I freak out from worry. I want to see what is happening too, but would rather have a look in the light of day and not in the shadows of night.

When he gets back, he assures me that everything is fine. An enthusiastic male Red Shirt even took him around encouraging him to snap photos of the proceedings. Though the man did not speak any English, Scotty got the impression that he was happy to have tourists present; an international audience to acknowledge their cause.

The next day we decide to bypass the protest and head to a demonstration of another kind, water festival madness. Songkran is traditionally a time for cleansing and renewal. The throwing of water was originally a way for people to pay respect. After pouring water over the Buddhas for cleansing, they would capture the water and use this “blessed” water to give good fortune to elders and family by gently pouring it on their shoulder. Now young people celebrate by dousing each other and strangers.

Things start out mildly with thin streams of water from water guns. But this does not last long. Soon we are completely doused, water flying around from all directions, speakers blaring upbeat dance music, and people squealing with delight. So you figure that once your body reaches 100% saturation then that is it right. All that is left is to stroll and enjoy. But that is not the end of it at all. Completely soaked or not, nothing can quite prepare you for a bucket of ice-cold water down the back. Even when you learn to recognize which people have access to the really cold stuff, even when you anticipate the icy liquid hitting you, the reaction is the same: stunning! Like someone knocking the wind out of you, but less painful I would guess.

The Thais add another element to the water festival by incorporating talcum powder or chalk into the celebration. Originally monks used chalk to mark blessings, but the Khao San revelers have adopted their own methods. People make a sludge-like substance out of chalk pellets and smear the stuff all over any and every one in the vicinity. Some of those celebrating gently wipe a slimy palm of chalk across your face and wish you a happy new year, while some mischievously pour cups-full right over the top of your head. The worst is the particularly naughty bunch of folks who use prickly heat powder instead of regular talcum powder or chalk. For those who haven’t used prickly heat before, it is like Tiger Balm or IcyHot but in powder form; it burns!

Our stay in Thailand is brief but packed with exciting imagery. The water festival was fun for a day and the protests outside our door do not make for the most relaxing environment. I am not sad when our brief stay in Bangkok is over and we head out, in the still dark morning hours, to catch a plane to Myanmar.

As a student for the last 4 1/2 years, working a full-time job, and often a part-time job as well to pay for my education and the “lifestyle” I had grown accustomed to (code for: I can’t -and have no desire- to learn to cook and therefore go out to eat, A LOT!), I often wondered what I would do when I eventually had that beautiful commodity known as free-time. I figured I would spend more time with friends, family, and my sweet boyfriend. And, if I were still in the country I have no doubt that that would be the truth.

My next free-time activity would be to read. Although I read many interesting books and educational articles throughout my years at OSU, I longed to read for pleasure; to read things of my own choosing without homework or timetables. Well, I have definitely made up for lost time. I just wanted to share a list of the books that have accompanied me thus far through SE Asia. Some I gladly purchased, some were given to me by other travelers, and some had to have the dust and cockroaches shaken off of them, pulled out of neglected piles called book exchanges. Some were great, some just filled time, but whether they were good or not I have devoured one after another and feel that there may be no squelching this insatiable need to read, read, read!

The first books I read, though not necessarily for pleasure were the PADI Advanced Open Water Manual and Rescue Diver Manual required for my courses for scuba diving. While the diving is really gratifying, I’m not sure that the manuals really qualify as pleasure reads.

1. How to Live Without Fear and Worry– Venerable Thubten Chodron
2. Halcones de la Noche– Robert Ampuero (a Spanish translation of the book that lead to film Nighthawks starring Sly Stallone. Given to me by my Chilean friend Vale to help sharpen up my waning Spanish skills)
3. Angels and Demons– Dan Brown
4. Ender’s Game– Orson Scott Card (1st in a series of Ender novels sparking a newly discovered love affair with this Sci-Fi writer. Sci-Fi, who knew, I actually liked it!)
5. Mayor of Casterbridge– Thomas Hardy
6. Chinese Zodiac Animals– Pure fluff and silly entertainment
7. Testimony– Anita Shreve
8. Sold: One Woman’s True Account of Modern Slavery– Zana Muhsen (heart wrenching and infuriating!)
9. Conviction– Richard Patterson
10. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time– Mark Haddon (Love, love, loved it! Interesting, sweet and sad story told from the unique perspective of the books 12-year old autistic narrator)
11. A Spot of Bother– Mark Haddon
12. Deep Descent: Adventure and Death Diving the Andrea Doria– Kevin McMurray
13. 10 Short Stories You Must Read This Year 2009 ed.– Book Alive, Australia
14. Johnny Got His Gun– Dalton Trumbo (one of my favorites to date. A classic that deserves to be read, although once is definitely enough. Heavy for such a small book.)
15. Chasing the Flame: One Man’s Fight to Save the World– Samantha Power (life story of Sergio Vieira de Mello, his rise in the UN and his missions all over the world, really interesting)
16. The Sultan and the Mermaid Queen– Paul Spencer Sochaczewski (short-stories about SE Asia)
17. The Future Just Happened– Michael Lewis
18. Speaker for the Dead– Orson Scott Card (2nd in the Ender’s series)
19. Xenocide– Orson Scott Card (3rd in the Ender’s series)
20. Della’s Web: the Suburban Black Widow– Aphrodite Jones
21. Children of the Mind– Orson Scott Card (4th in the Ender’s series)
22. The Success System that Never Fails– W. Clement Stone (original book that the now popular “The Secret” movie is based upon)
23. A Cry in the Desert– Jed A. Bryan
24. Hungry for You: From Cannibalism to Seduction, A Book of Food– Joan Smith
25. The Outsider– Albert Camus
26. The Time Traveler’s Wife– Audrey Niffenegger
27. Dreams From My Father– Barack Obama
28. The Bell Witch: An American Haunting– Brent Monahan
29. Smoke and Mirrors– Neil Gaiman (such a creative writer, I am keeping my eyes out for more of his stuff)
30. Burmese Days– George Orwell (I was Myanmar bound, had to read this one for sure!)
31. Ideal Marriage: Physiology and Technique– T.H. Van de Velde M.D. (This book was so dry, despite its juicy title. I had a hard time getting though this one at all)
32. how: Why How We Do Anything Means Everything in Business and Life– Dov Seidman
33. 1984– George Orwell (one of my favorite books of all time. It gets better every time I read it.)
34. The Adventures of Tom Sawyer– Mark Twain
35. The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn– Mark Twain
And now for a quick quote by Mark Twain that I absolutely love:
“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”
36. Outliers– Malcolm Gladwell
37. Tuesdays with Morrie– Mitch Albom (made me sob like a baby)
38. Choke– Chuck Palahniuk (a really funny book for those of you who get a sick, dark sense of humor)
39. When You Are Engulfed in Flames– David Sedaris (I love all of this man’s books, hilarious!)
40. Children of Cambodia’s Killing Fields: Memoirs of Survivors– comp. Dith Pran
41. The Killing Fields– Christopher Hurdon
42. Freakonomics– Steven Levitt and Stephen Dubner
43. Sushi para Principantes– Marian Keyes (another translation to help keep up on the español)
44. Among Insurgents: Walking through Burma– Shelby Tucker
45. Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief– Rick Riordan
46. Siddhartha– Herman Hesse
47. The End of Poverty: How We Can Make it Happen in our Lifetime– Jeffrey Sachs
48. Animal Farm– George Orwell (I just love this man’s writing)
49. Lord of the Flies– William Golding
50. The Third Day– Joseph Hayes (reintroduced the word “bedraggled” into my life!)
51. The Red Tent– Anita Diamante
52. Bonk: Curious Coupling of Sex and Science– Mary Roach (She has also written a book called Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers that I would recommend over this particular book though it is good too)
53. The Witch of Portobello– Paulo Coelho

And currently reading: The Art of Happiness: A Handbook for Living– Dalai Lama and Howard C. Cutler

I welcome any recommendations from anyone who has read something and absolutely loved it, or has read something and thinks that I would absolutely love it. It is hard to find specific titles out here sometimes, but I will be sure to keep my eyes peeled for any and all of your suggestions. And if you haven’t read any good books lately, well, dust off that library card and get to it.

Yet another smooth, successful border crossing puts us into Phnom Penh (PP), the capital and largest city in Cambodia. The city is busy and sweltering hot which aids in our decision to employ a tuk-tuk to take us around and look for a cheap hotel. Along with our new friend Jose (a Spaniard currently living in Dominican Republic), we jump in and are off. After a bit of shopping around we settle on a place and agree to meet up after showers for food and exploration.

As we walk around the city, Scotty navigates us to a near by temple, Wat Phnem. It doesn’t cost much to get in but Jose hesitates. Turns out that our friend Jose, the professional photographer that specializes in children and old people, does not particularly care for temples. Scotty and I share a confused look and wonder why he chose to visit Cambodia, where  by far the biggest tourist draw are the temples of Angkor Wat?!? I suppose we all have our reasons. We end up checking out the temple, but rather quickly to accommodate Jose aversion and our collectively growing hunger. Mostly tired from our long travel day we walk around a bit, sort of half halfheartedly and end up at a restaurant for some grub.

The next day we decide to go on a tuk-tuk tour starting 15 kilometers out of town at the Killing Fields. Before arriving in Cambodia I read Christopher Hudson’s “The Killing Fields” as well as Dith Pran’s “The Killing Fields: Memoirs of Survivors.” It is so sad to learn about Pol Pot, the Khmer Rouge and the awful fate of so many Cambodians during the short, but devastating, period that the Khmer Rouge ruled. It is even sadder still to visit the sights and see first hand the places that these atrocities and crimes against humanity were perpetrated not so long ago. Thus began the tour of depression and astonishment that is PP.

The city fell to the Khmer Rouge on April 17, 1975. Circumstances had culminated perfectly when the Khmer Rouge came in, evacuate the city under false pretenses, and forced its residents into forced labor in rural farms. It was Pol Pot’s vision to return to an agrarian economy and he valued farmers and rural peoples over urban dwellers. He distrusted and therefore killed many people perceived as educated, “lazy”, or political enemies as they did not fit into his vision. Many of the others ended up starving to death as much of the rice they were forced to produced was sold to China for weaponry. Pol Pot’s leadership resulted in the death of over 2 million people, devastating the nation.

What is left now at the notorious Killing Fields is sparse. Where buildings once stood, such as the chemical substance storage building used to hold chemicals that would lessen the smell of all the decaying bodies, now only stand signs to tell the visitor of what once was. There are many shallow open pits that functioned as mass graves. One is sectioned off by a small fence with a sign marking  this grave as unique. In this particular grave all 166 of the victims within it were headless. The dark soil we walk over is peppered with white flecks that we learn are bone fragments. More and more are expelled every year when the rains cause them to come to the surface. The project of bone collection is ongoing.

By far the most prominent structure at the Killing Fields is a tall memorial building placed very close to the entrance. Inside the structure are levels as high up as the building is tall. The ground level is full of clothes that have been excavated from the mass graves, washed, and put on display. Each corresponding level is full of skulls, separated and categorized by the sex and age of the victims. The terrible commonality with all the skulls is the obvious way that these people died; blunt force trauma to the head.

To follow up the Killing Fields, we hop in the tuk-tuk and head to the now Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum. Formerly Tuol Svay Prey High School, this site was taken over by the Khmer Rouge and turned into the S-21 prison camp, where Cambodians were sent for detention and torture.

Some say that pictures speak louder than words. Well, this museum does not speak, it screams in more ways than one. Relying heavily the catalog of photos the Khmer Rouge amassed of their “detainees”, a clear story emerges. Some of the photos are gruesome. But the biggest impact, for me at least, were the rows upon rows of black and white head shots. Victims in various stages of detention, with numbers on their chests and pained looks on their faces that pierce to the core. I felt the despair, the helplessness, hopelessness, anger, confusion, and a myriad of other emotions; truly haunting.

One room was dedicated, to what I thought, was particularly powerful exhibit by a Cambodian named Heng Sinith. He had taken old photos of  Khmer conspirators, found the person in present day and then photographs their lives as they are now. At the website: http://www.lightstalkers.org/hengsinith Sinith says “I want to make photographic records about the lives of those perpetrators. I do not want to show the history of their murders, but their lives as spouses and villagers.” A where-are-they-now, with comments from the men and women who participated in the terror inflicted upon their countrymen. Amazing!

Eventually the Khmer Rouge were driven out of PP by the Vietnamese in 1979 but not before inflicting so much pain, death and devastation upon the people.

At first I wasn’t sure if I wanted to visit these sights. I thought, “I get it. I don’t need to be taken there, into it, to really understand.” But now I see that I really didn’t get it. Well, at least not like I do now. I feel it in a different way having been there. Having stood there. Having really let it connect and affect me. Perhaps it is what I needed for the magnitude of the situation to really sink in. Visiting has made me see how fragile our existence is, and how quickly the pendulum can swing. This visit is one that will continue to reverberate for a long time to come.