It’s almost indescribably hot these days. A few years ago, I spent a day in the Sahara desert in Tunisia. It was nearly 45 degrees Celsius and I was covered from head to toe in Bedouin gear as protection from the blistering sun and sudden whips of sand, but the heat there was tolerable. It was dry and stinging, crisp on the skin and hot in the mouth.
The heat in Thailand is different. It is a misty heat that blurs the distinctions between objects and the air around them. I feel like I am melting on the edges and losing the clean distinction between where I end and the haze begins. I am evaporating. The humid fog invades your brain, slows your thinking, muffles smells and sounds… The heat is choking; it sucks the oxygen out and leaves you a little breathless. You can’t even walk or move quickly and I fear that I am quickly approaching melting point. Mercifully, I am wrapping up my time in Thailand in a few days and am heading to the relative cool of tropical West Africa.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Sunday, April 06, 2008
Shiny Happy People’s Super Democratic Union of Myanmar (Burma)
I realized when I returned from Cambodia last month that I would actually need to leave Thailand one more time so as not to overstay my visa and incur a hefty fine upon my departure. I was already up in Chiang Mai for a final round of meetings and interviews and some fellow Burmese NGO expats were planning a visa run so I decided to join them. Of course this time, the visa run was to Burma.
I’ve been thinking about going to Burma ever since arriving in South East Asia in January. However it’s not a straightforward issue. Firstly there’s a serious ethical dilemma. The likes of Aung Sun Su Ki have instructed foreigners not to travel to Burma as tourism helps support the military regime. Others however articulate the opposite argument, saying that tourist dollars actually end up in the hands of local Burmese people and can actually do much more good. I did a lot of research on both sides of the ethical issue and was still on the fence until my Burmese students told me that they thought I should go.
Secondly, in my case there was a potential security risk as well. Since Burmese intelligence monitors people they suspect of aiding and abetting the “subversive” pro-democracy activists, it’s possible that they have identified me and will arrest me if I go to Burma. However, in speaking to friends in Chiang Mai who also work with these groups and have been back and forth to Burma several times, I was assured that the security threat to expatriates was infinitesimal as the Burmese junta is just not as interested in creating an international scandal as simply destroying the pro-democracy movement itself.
And so I spent the day today traveling to Burma and back. We left Chiang Mai at the crack of dawn and landed at the border in Mae Sot at midday. We got our passports stamped on the Thai side and we walked the 500 meters across the Thailand-Myanmar Friendship Bridge to the “Union of Myanmar.” As we walked across the bridge, I noticed people crossing the border river below in inner tubes. I thought back to my semi-illegal Rwanda-Burundi border crossing last year and to how porous and artificial most of these borders actually are…
Anxiety kicked in when we arrived at the Burmese border post, but the immigration police were actually very friendly—and not nearly as corrupt as their Cambodian counterparts! But they held on to our passports as we were only allowed to spend the afternoon in Burma and had to return to Thailand before the border closed at 5pm. We were barely in the country for 10 minutes and we already felt the regime’s iron grip.
The afternoon was excruciatingly hot and the entire town seemed quietly suppressed under the heat—or was it something else? We decided to hire a few cyclos to take us around the small Burmese border town for the afternoon. We toured several gilded temples around town and enjoyed a delicious lunch of traditional Burmese dishes. Our final stop was a surprise, the Crocodile Temple, which is exactly what it sounds like: a giant temple shaped like a crocodile.
After a long, hot, and slightly surreal afternoon of sightseeing in what I named the “Shiny Happy People’s Super Democratic Union of Myanmar,” we rushed back to the border just in time to grab our passports and cross back over into Thailand for an overnight in the sketchy border town of Mae Sot.
I’ve been thinking about going to Burma ever since arriving in South East Asia in January. However it’s not a straightforward issue. Firstly there’s a serious ethical dilemma. The likes of Aung Sun Su Ki have instructed foreigners not to travel to Burma as tourism helps support the military regime. Others however articulate the opposite argument, saying that tourist dollars actually end up in the hands of local Burmese people and can actually do much more good. I did a lot of research on both sides of the ethical issue and was still on the fence until my Burmese students told me that they thought I should go.
Secondly, in my case there was a potential security risk as well. Since Burmese intelligence monitors people they suspect of aiding and abetting the “subversive” pro-democracy activists, it’s possible that they have identified me and will arrest me if I go to Burma. However, in speaking to friends in Chiang Mai who also work with these groups and have been back and forth to Burma several times, I was assured that the security threat to expatriates was infinitesimal as the Burmese junta is just not as interested in creating an international scandal as simply destroying the pro-democracy movement itself.
And so I spent the day today traveling to Burma and back. We left Chiang Mai at the crack of dawn and landed at the border in Mae Sot at midday. We got our passports stamped on the Thai side and we walked the 500 meters across the Thailand-Myanmar Friendship Bridge to the “Union of Myanmar.” As we walked across the bridge, I noticed people crossing the border river below in inner tubes. I thought back to my semi-illegal Rwanda-Burundi border crossing last year and to how porous and artificial most of these borders actually are…
Anxiety kicked in when we arrived at the Burmese border post, but the immigration police were actually very friendly—and not nearly as corrupt as their Cambodian counterparts! But they held on to our passports as we were only allowed to spend the afternoon in Burma and had to return to Thailand before the border closed at 5pm. We were barely in the country for 10 minutes and we already felt the regime’s iron grip.
The afternoon was excruciatingly hot and the entire town seemed quietly suppressed under the heat—or was it something else? We decided to hire a few cyclos to take us around the small Burmese border town for the afternoon. We toured several gilded temples around town and enjoyed a delicious lunch of traditional Burmese dishes. Our final stop was a surprise, the Crocodile Temple, which is exactly what it sounds like: a giant temple shaped like a crocodile.
Thursday, April 03, 2008
Teaching Transitional Justice
A couple of days ago I got a call from another organization in Bangkok that works to support and empower Burmese activists. Similar to the school up north, this program selects a small group of young minority women to be interns on a yearlong educational program. They spend several months receiving training at the facility in Bangkok and then they work together to create their own pro-democracy advocacy campaign.
When they asked if I could run a workshop on the topic of transitional justice in just 2 days time, I thought it was an April fool’s joke but then remembered about the so-called last minute “Asian time.” Despite the limited amount of time I had to prepare, I am always keen to teach and I agreed to facilitate the workshop.
While the subject is not explicitly related to my work as an Insight Fellow, transitional justice is one of my predominant areas of interest within the field of conflict resolution and I do have experience in transitional justice. I am conversant with truth commissions because I studied the Truth and Reconciliation Commission during my semester abroad in South Africa. While in the Great Lakes region of Africa, I researched and visited gacaca hearings in Rwanda and studied other traditional methods of justice in Northern Uganda. Thanks to my experience at the UN International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda and at the ICC, I am also very familiar with the processes of international criminal law.
Drawing on this academic knowledge and professional experience, I was able to pull together a full presentation and workshop on transitional justice despite the Asian timing of the invitation. The group of six young women were captivated by the subject and extremely eager to learn—so eager in fact that they refused to take a break! (For my own sake as a solo facilitator, I insisted.) This bright group was a lot of fun and just as inspirational as my other Burmese students. They had tons of questions and our discussion went way over the allotted time. It was tough when we eventually wrapped up at the end of the day, knowing that I am leaving soon and this was likely my last opportunity to teach and to work so intimately with Burmese activists.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Mediation in Thailand
This afternoon I had a meeting with Supanat of the Office for Peace and Governance at the King Prajihidok Institute (KPI). KPI is an independent organization and government consultancy and was originally one of my potential placements in Thailand. While it did not work out, I still wanted to meet with someone from the institute to get a better sense of their work and understand their role in peace-building and mediation.
Supanat and I chatted for several hours, on topics ranging from his role as an advisor on reconciliation to the government after the 2006 military coup, to the development of peer mediation programs in Thai high schools. Supanat also gave several examples of the various types of multi-party disputes he has mediated. For instance, a dispute emerged when a mining company established itself uphill from a large temple. As the mining concession developed, many local people got jobs working at the mine. However, dust clouded the area, which disturbed the monks’ activities and meditation, and there were several instances of rocks falling and damaging the temple roof. KPI came in set up a community mediation process, in which all stakeholders were invited to participate, and after many months, a solution was finally reached.
Thinking back to November to my time in Croatia, where I assisted on a 2-week USAID-sponsored mediation training program for judges, it was interesting to compare how mediation practices have been adapted to different countries cultures and legal systems. Supanat also mentioned that they use the same basic texts of the trade, such as Getting to Yes (a sacred text at Insight). I was momentarily impressed at how these concepts and practices have seemingly transcended national and cultural boundaries. However, as my appreciation for the differences between Western and Asian culture have grown during my time here, I pushed back at bit and asked Supanat if he really thought that the approaches outlined in those books were actually relevant and appropriate in Thailand. He answered that the basic principles certainly crossed over, but clarified that many practices had in fact been modified to be more culturally appropriate. For instance, he mentioned that emotions are rarely discussed overtly and that mediators are usually middle-aged or older and serve almost as arbitrators who have the authority to decide the outcome of a case. He also explained that mediation was increasingly popular not only at a community level, but also in the criminal court system as a process of restorative justice. Considering how counter-productive the penal system often is in the United States, I thought this was a particularly innovative and valuable application of mediation.
Supanat and I chatted for several hours, on topics ranging from his role as an advisor on reconciliation to the government after the 2006 military coup, to the development of peer mediation programs in Thai high schools. Supanat also gave several examples of the various types of multi-party disputes he has mediated. For instance, a dispute emerged when a mining company established itself uphill from a large temple. As the mining concession developed, many local people got jobs working at the mine. However, dust clouded the area, which disturbed the monks’ activities and meditation, and there were several instances of rocks falling and damaging the temple roof. KPI came in set up a community mediation process, in which all stakeholders were invited to participate, and after many months, a solution was finally reached.
Thinking back to November to my time in Croatia, where I assisted on a 2-week USAID-sponsored mediation training program for judges, it was interesting to compare how mediation practices have been adapted to different countries cultures and legal systems. Supanat also mentioned that they use the same basic texts of the trade, such as Getting to Yes (a sacred text at Insight). I was momentarily impressed at how these concepts and practices have seemingly transcended national and cultural boundaries. However, as my appreciation for the differences between Western and Asian culture have grown during my time here, I pushed back at bit and asked Supanat if he really thought that the approaches outlined in those books were actually relevant and appropriate in Thailand. He answered that the basic principles certainly crossed over, but clarified that many practices had in fact been modified to be more culturally appropriate. For instance, he mentioned that emotions are rarely discussed overtly and that mediators are usually middle-aged or older and serve almost as arbitrators who have the authority to decide the outcome of a case. He also explained that mediation was increasingly popular not only at a community level, but also in the criminal court system as a process of restorative justice. Considering how counter-productive the penal system often is in the United States, I thought this was a particularly innovative and valuable application of mediation.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Chiang Mai magic
My brief Cambodian escapade is over and I am back working in Northern Thailand. Last week and over the weekend, I was once again up at the school where last month I taught the conflict transformation workshop to the group of Burmese student activists. This time around, I was working with the students individually. I interviewed them on their backgrounds and their perspectives on the overall training program. The purpose of these interviews was to compare what the students are taking from the program against what the stated goals of the program are, and ultimately incorporating these views into a report to help improve and develop the existing program and curriculum.
My previous experience at the school was so special; it was great to be there again. When the interviews were over, I got the chance to connect with the students on a more personal level, just hanging out, listening to music, and playing badminton and ping-pong… I also met with the school administrators and other staff from the organization, who provided extremely helpful information on the situation in Burma and the role of these young activists.This week, I have several other meetings scheduled with other Burmese organizations and individual activists, who I hope can further enrich my perspective and insight into these issues. In between meetings, I am also getting a chance to explore Chiang Mai, which I didn’t get much of a chance to do during my first trip up here since I was at the school for nearly 10 hours a day. Chiang Mai is an interesting city, laid-back and quaint but also bustling with cultural activities. There always seems to be something to see and do. Since my work is so focused on Burmese issues, it’s nice to get a taste of some Thai culture… For instance, last night I went to a Shan festival at a temple in town. There was food, music and dancing in the compound around the temple. There were even game stands where you could win giant stuffed animal prizes, just like at an American carnival. The comparison with America ended there though, as the vendors around the market area were selling Thai food, tapes of Shan music, protective amulets, and traditional Shan clothing. As my friends and I walked around, we intersected with groups of singers and costumed dancers who were parading around the compound, hoisting blessed children around on their shoulders.
My previous experience at the school was so special; it was great to be there again. When the interviews were over, I got the chance to connect with the students on a more personal level, just hanging out, listening to music, and playing badminton and ping-pong… I also met with the school administrators and other staff from the organization, who provided extremely helpful information on the situation in Burma and the role of these young activists.This week, I have several other meetings scheduled with other Burmese organizations and individual activists, who I hope can further enrich my perspective and insight into these issues. In between meetings, I am also getting a chance to explore Chiang Mai, which I didn’t get much of a chance to do during my first trip up here since I was at the school for nearly 10 hours a day. Chiang Mai is an interesting city, laid-back and quaint but also bustling with cultural activities. There always seems to be something to see and do. Since my work is so focused on Burmese issues, it’s nice to get a taste of some Thai culture… For instance, last night I went to a Shan festival at a temple in town. There was food, music and dancing in the compound around the temple. There were even game stands where you could win giant stuffed animal prizes, just like at an American carnival. The comparison with America ended there though, as the vendors around the market area were selling Thai food, tapes of Shan music, protective amulets, and traditional Shan clothing. As my friends and I walked around, we intersected with groups of singers and costumed dancers who were parading around the compound, hoisting blessed children around on their shoulders.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
The Killing Fields
Yesterday morning I woke up early (again) and caught a 7am bus from Siem Reap to Phnom Penh. Based on my recent experience on the Cambodian roads, I feared the worst. But the ride was surprisingly smooth and comfortable in the big air-conditioned bus—despite the low-budget melodramatic kung fu movie with nonsensical English subtitles that was played over and over again during the 6-hour ride.
I arrived in the Cambodian capital with the entire afternoon in front of me. Thanks to the recommendations of former Fellow Julia Geggenheimer who had a placement here last year, I had a lovely luncheon at a pretty riverside café and then embarked on some sightseeing. I sped through the sights in town and decided, after some initial hesitation, to head out to the Killing Fields. The Choeung Ek memorial is built on the grounds of the mass graves of Tuol Sleng prison, where tens of thousands of political prisoners and other innocent people were tortured and killed under the Khmer Rouge in the 1970s.
This memorial site was somber and grand and the air of solemnity and serenity struck me. In the center of the grounds stands a tall glass-sided Buddhist stupa in which thousands of skulls, found during the excavation of the mass graves in the area, are neatly stacked. Surrounding the memorial stupa are offerings of flowers and incense. As I examined the tower and walked around the grounds, my initial thought was that the Killing Fields felt sterile—too tidy and too pretty to truly commemorate this place of suffering and death.
My mind naturally drifted back to Rwanda and the genocide sites I visited there, the churches where thousands of Rwandans sought refuge but were instead mercilessly butchered. Those churches smelled like death. They were dusty and still scattered with bones and some personal belongings of the victims: scraps of clothing, torn books, broken rosaries, deserted stuffed toys… You could almost taste the tears and hear the lingering screams. In Rwanda, innocent women and children were slaughtered like animals and their bodies were left to rot in piles of mutilated corpses. It is impossible to walk around those sites and not imagine the horror of what happened there.
In Cambodia, the process of the 4-year genocide was different. The Khmer Rouge indoctrinated, enslaved, and slowly starved the population. Cambodians who questioned or rebelled against Pol Pot or had the misfortune of being privileged or educated were summarily executed. But the regime had the time and the necessity to bury their victims in mass graves. They cleaned up after themselves. And 30 years later, it was easy to walk around this well tended to memorial site and nearly forget the reality of the horrors that occurred in this place. But the families and loved ones of the millions Cambodians who were killed in the genocide will not forget and, although my brief trip to Cambodia ends tonight, neither will I.
I arrived in the Cambodian capital with the entire afternoon in front of me. Thanks to the recommendations of former Fellow Julia Geggenheimer who had a placement here last year, I had a lovely luncheon at a pretty riverside café and then embarked on some sightseeing. I sped through the sights in town and decided, after some initial hesitation, to head out to the Killing Fields. The Choeung Ek memorial is built on the grounds of the mass graves of Tuol Sleng prison, where tens of thousands of political prisoners and other innocent people were tortured and killed under the Khmer Rouge in the 1970s.
This memorial site was somber and grand and the air of solemnity and serenity struck me. In the center of the grounds stands a tall glass-sided Buddhist stupa in which thousands of skulls, found during the excavation of the mass graves in the area, are neatly stacked. Surrounding the memorial stupa are offerings of flowers and incense. As I examined the tower and walked around the grounds, my initial thought was that the Killing Fields felt sterile—too tidy and too pretty to truly commemorate this place of suffering and death.
My mind naturally drifted back to Rwanda and the genocide sites I visited there, the churches where thousands of Rwandans sought refuge but were instead mercilessly butchered. Those churches smelled like death. They were dusty and still scattered with bones and some personal belongings of the victims: scraps of clothing, torn books, broken rosaries, deserted stuffed toys… You could almost taste the tears and hear the lingering screams. In Rwanda, innocent women and children were slaughtered like animals and their bodies were left to rot in piles of mutilated corpses. It is impossible to walk around those sites and not imagine the horror of what happened there.
In Cambodia, the process of the 4-year genocide was different. The Khmer Rouge indoctrinated, enslaved, and slowly starved the population. Cambodians who questioned or rebelled against Pol Pot or had the misfortune of being privileged or educated were summarily executed. But the regime had the time and the necessity to bury their victims in mass graves. They cleaned up after themselves. And 30 years later, it was easy to walk around this well tended to memorial site and nearly forget the reality of the horrors that occurred in this place. But the families and loved ones of the millions Cambodians who were killed in the genocide will not forget and, although my brief trip to Cambodia ends tonight, neither will I.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Exciting news!
After a second long day on the Cambodian tourist track, I relaxed yesterday evening by taking in a traditional show. The Cambodian dancers moved slowly and gracefully in their elaborate brightly colored costumes. I sat in awe as I watched them arch their limbs and curve their hands and fingers back at impossible angles.
When I returned to the hotel and checked my email, I received some very exciting news: I was accepted into several of the graduate programs to which I applied. I stared at the screen in total shock and actually got a little 'verklempt' out of happiness—only the second time in my life that I’ve cried out of happiness, the first being when I found out I had been accepted to the Insight Fellowship program. I called my family to tell them the good news, but could not get through. It all felt very surreal and anti-climatic: I was sitting in a little hotel in Siem Reap, Cambodia and just got some amazing news that I couldn’t share or celebrate with anyone. I was reminded of my distance from my family and at the same time so excited because now I know that I’ll be closer to home for the next couple of years.
Anyway, I've decided to go with my original top choice, a dual degree Masters in International Affairs program run between Sciences Po and Columbia University. This means that starting in September, I won't be globetrotting as much for the next two years as I'll be settled first for a year in Paris and then for a year back in NYC. I believe the program is perfectly suited not only to my transatlantic bicultural background but also to my professional and academic interests as it will allow me to focus on international security and diplomacy. I am excited about the academic opportunities the program has to offer, as well as the chance to spend the next couple of years closer to home and family.
When I returned to the hotel and checked my email, I received some very exciting news: I was accepted into several of the graduate programs to which I applied. I stared at the screen in total shock and actually got a little 'verklempt' out of happiness—only the second time in my life that I’ve cried out of happiness, the first being when I found out I had been accepted to the Insight Fellowship program. I called my family to tell them the good news, but could not get through. It all felt very surreal and anti-climatic: I was sitting in a little hotel in Siem Reap, Cambodia and just got some amazing news that I couldn’t share or celebrate with anyone. I was reminded of my distance from my family and at the same time so excited because now I know that I’ll be closer to home for the next couple of years.
Anyway, I've decided to go with my original top choice, a dual degree Masters in International Affairs program run between Sciences Po and Columbia University. This means that starting in September, I won't be globetrotting as much for the next two years as I'll be settled first for a year in Paris and then for a year back in NYC. I believe the program is perfectly suited not only to my transatlantic bicultural background but also to my professional and academic interests as it will allow me to focus on international security and diplomacy. I am excited about the academic opportunities the program has to offer, as well as the chance to spend the next couple of years closer to home and family.
Sunday, March 09, 2008
First light at Angkor
This morning I was up at the crack of dawn for the second day in a row—a habit I don’t want to get into. This time, I wasn’t rising to catch a bus, but to make it to Angkor Wat for the sunrise.
The morning was still, dark, and cool. The drone of my tuk tuk engine was the only sound. I stopped at the ticket office to buy my pass for the day and then was deposited in front of Angkor Wat—not that I could see a lick of the historic temple in the pitch black. Thankfully, as a seasoned traveler, I was smart enough to bring a flashlight, so I didn’t stumble along blindly through the darkness alongside the other groggy tourists.
I found a secluded spot just off to the side of the main entranceway and settled onto some cool stone steps to watch the sunrise.
The morning sun gradually warmed the sky and, still hidden just below the horizon, silhouetted Angkor in a halo of bright pinks and oranges. As it slowly brightened, the early light streaked blue and eventually yellow as the sun crept little by little over the stonewalls of ancient temple. I felt serene and happy as I was bathed in the cool morning sunshine. And despite the early wake-up, I was fully energized for my full day tour of the immense and striking complex of temples.
(Photos: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2040118&l=fee5c&id=5902101)
The morning was still, dark, and cool. The drone of my tuk tuk engine was the only sound. I stopped at the ticket office to buy my pass for the day and then was deposited in front of Angkor Wat—not that I could see a lick of the historic temple in the pitch black. Thankfully, as a seasoned traveler, I was smart enough to bring a flashlight, so I didn’t stumble along blindly through the darkness alongside the other groggy tourists.
I found a secluded spot just off to the side of the main entranceway and settled onto some cool stone steps to watch the sunrise.
The morning sun gradually warmed the sky and, still hidden just below the horizon, silhouetted Angkor in a halo of bright pinks and oranges. As it slowly brightened, the early light streaked blue and eventually yellow as the sun crept little by little over the stonewalls of ancient temple. I felt serene and happy as I was bathed in the cool morning sunshine. And despite the early wake-up, I was fully energized for my full day tour of the immense and striking complex of temples.
(Photos: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2040118&l=fee5c&id=5902101)
Saturday, March 08, 2008
Overland adventure
I realized a few days ago that I am halfway through my placement in Thailand: six weeks down, six more to go. At this halfway point, I examined what I’d accomplished thus far and what remained of the things I wanted to do with my time here. Two of my priorities. to do an overland border crossing in Asia and to visit the temples at Angkor in Cambodia, fit together perfectly. I looked at my calendar and realized that I was also due to leave Thailand in the next 10 days so as to not overstay my 30-day tourist visa. I decided that it was either this weekend or never, and so, after a couple of days of research and last minute planning, I write this entry from Cambodia.
I got up at the crack of dawn this morning. The birds and monks were barely stirring as I jumped in a taxi, crossed the city, and caught the 6am bus to the border town of Aranyaprathet. I slept during the smooth 4 1/2 hour bus ride and got to the Thai/Cambodia border crossing feeling surprisingly fresh. Leaving Thailand was straightforward enough: I just filled out my departure form and got my passport stamped. Entering Cambodia was slightly trickier as the immigration officer insisted I pay 1000 baht (~$30) for my tourist visa despite the large sign above his head that read “Tourist Visa: 20 US Dollars.” All of his border guard buddies were just as corrupt and my attempt to negotiate was shot down pretty quickly. Powerless and frustrated by my inability to communicate (how do you say, “it’s corrupt assholes like you who abuse power and take advantage of foreigners that are bringing down the reputation of this country and limiting the development of tourism and foreign investment” in Khmer?), I paid for the overpriced visa and was immediately accosted by a half-dozen touts trying to convince me to take their taxi. It took a while to shake them off and I eventually successfully managed to secure a ride at a reasonably fair price. After a somewhat fitful border crossing, I was on my way to Siem Reap, the town next to the Angkor temples.
My belief that the border crossing would be the most laborious part of this trip was soon proved false. Unlike the smooth highway from Bangkok to Aranyaprathet, the road from Poipet, the Cambodian border town, to Siem Reap was a chaotic mess. Rickety buses and overloaded pick-ups and motorbikes jostled along in a deadly game of slip’n’slide on the slick muddy track. Mud and filth splashed on the taxi’s cracked windscreen, further restricting the already limited visibility.
At one point, traffic slowed to a halt. A truck had overturned, sending merchandise sloshing through the mud and blocking the passage. My deft driver saw a detour and soon we were speeding along a parallel road through a quiet village. I gazed out of the window soaking in the Cambodian countryside as it streaked by, counting the long-horned white cattle and watching children run and play along the road. All of a sudden, *THWACK!* Oh Jesus, we’ve hit a child. But then a poof of feathers. Thank god, it was just a chicken. And we speed on, without stopping to inspect the damage or apologize to the poor farmer whose chicken we just flattened. A fatal poultry hit and run.
Finally, after several other near-death moments during the 4-hour /150km drive, I arrived in one tense and mildly traumatized piece in front of my little bed and breakfast in Siem Reap. I checked into my $6/night room and immediately passed out for a nap to recover from my adventurous overland Asian border crossing.
I got up at the crack of dawn this morning. The birds and monks were barely stirring as I jumped in a taxi, crossed the city, and caught the 6am bus to the border town of Aranyaprathet. I slept during the smooth 4 1/2 hour bus ride and got to the Thai/Cambodia border crossing feeling surprisingly fresh. Leaving Thailand was straightforward enough: I just filled out my departure form and got my passport stamped. Entering Cambodia was slightly trickier as the immigration officer insisted I pay 1000 baht (~$30) for my tourist visa despite the large sign above his head that read “Tourist Visa: 20 US Dollars.” All of his border guard buddies were just as corrupt and my attempt to negotiate was shot down pretty quickly. Powerless and frustrated by my inability to communicate (how do you say, “it’s corrupt assholes like you who abuse power and take advantage of foreigners that are bringing down the reputation of this country and limiting the development of tourism and foreign investment” in Khmer?), I paid for the overpriced visa and was immediately accosted by a half-dozen touts trying to convince me to take their taxi. It took a while to shake them off and I eventually successfully managed to secure a ride at a reasonably fair price. After a somewhat fitful border crossing, I was on my way to Siem Reap, the town next to the Angkor temples.
My belief that the border crossing would be the most laborious part of this trip was soon proved false. Unlike the smooth highway from Bangkok to Aranyaprathet, the road from Poipet, the Cambodian border town, to Siem Reap was a chaotic mess. Rickety buses and overloaded pick-ups and motorbikes jostled along in a deadly game of slip’n’slide on the slick muddy track. Mud and filth splashed on the taxi’s cracked windscreen, further restricting the already limited visibility.
At one point, traffic slowed to a halt. A truck had overturned, sending merchandise sloshing through the mud and blocking the passage. My deft driver saw a detour and soon we were speeding along a parallel road through a quiet village. I gazed out of the window soaking in the Cambodian countryside as it streaked by, counting the long-horned white cattle and watching children run and play along the road. All of a sudden, *THWACK!* Oh Jesus, we’ve hit a child. But then a poof of feathers. Thank god, it was just a chicken. And we speed on, without stopping to inspect the damage or apologize to the poor farmer whose chicken we just flattened. A fatal poultry hit and run.
Finally, after several other near-death moments during the 4-hour /150km drive, I arrived in one tense and mildly traumatized piece in front of my little bed and breakfast in Siem Reap. I checked into my $6/night room and immediately passed out for a nap to recover from my adventurous overland Asian border crossing.
Saturday, March 01, 2008
Iron Chef: Bangkok
I decided long before arriving in Thailand that I was going to take a Thai cooking class. I wanted to learn the basics of Thai cuisine not only because I love Thai food, but also because the cuisine is so important in Thai culture. Thus, the course which I have joined focuses not only on the preparation of the dishes but also on the individual ingredients that make Thai cuisine so unique and popular around the world. The reason I chose this particular class is that the chef accompanies us to the local market in the morning and walks around explaining what all the exotic fruits, vegetables, and unidentifiable gelatinous substances are. After just one class, I now know what galanga is (a root in the ginger family). I know the difference between Indian and Thai curries (the former is made from dry spices, the latter is based on a curry paste made from fresh ingredients). I know that there are dozens of types of eggplant, some as small as peas. And, most importantly for my palate, I know the different varieties of those hot chilies that give Thai cuisine its spicy kick.
As my degree of fluency with these new ingredients has already increased exponentially, I plan on spending a lot more time wandering around my local market, soaking up the tastes, smells, and atmosphere. I hope that this newfound knowledge about Thai cuisine will translate into a better understanding of Thai culture and daily life.
As my degree of fluency with these new ingredients has already increased exponentially, I plan on spending a lot more time wandering around my local market, soaking up the tastes, smells, and atmosphere. I hope that this newfound knowledge about Thai cuisine will translate into a better understanding of Thai culture and daily life.
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