Bali, or Why I don't like to visit tropical islands

First, some language tips:

Hello = Penyeh buht (although no one ever responded to this as if I had said 'hello')

Thank you = Terima casi (sounds more like "Drima casi")

And just for fun, my Balinese name would be Ni- Madeh (meaning "female, second born")

I wanted to return to India this year but I decided after last year's very challenging trip that I wouldn't go back without a guy to hold my hand and deter the local men's ogling (or at least the blatant come-ons).  But when I couldn't find a suitable male travel partner to accompany me I scrapped the plan.  I'd have needed at least six weeks in India to visit the places I wanted to see this time, and I knew that it still wouldn't have been enough and I'd probably have to do a longer trip at some point in the future.  And anyway, I wanted to get back to mi Buenos Aires querido, sooner and start looking for work before the school year starts in March.  I'm not one to choose a routine life over my usual living-out-of-a-suitcase style, but BA is worth prioritizing for.  What can I say, I've found a place that has made me want to be a one-city girl.   

So I swapped out six weeks in India with two weeks in Bali.  I'd always wanted to go and see what all the fuss was about, despite the fact that I'm not as drawn to beach destinations.  A reputation for natural beauty and the unique Balinese Hindu culture was enough to pique my interest.  But, alas...

Bali, for me, was not really a place worth blogging about.  I really don't have much to say about my experience there.  This is what I feared most when I started this (and last year's) blog.  I worried that I would just go around sightseeing and then come back to report: "It's so beautiful!  I'm having so much fun!"  Well, it was beautiful.  But I didn't have that much fun.  Nothing life-changing or paradigm-shifting happened.  Except maybe the profound realization that I really don't like tropical beach paradise destinations.

Say what?!  Am I spoiled?  Have I been exposed to too many amazing places in the world to appreciate and know a good thing when I see it?  Was I missing the magic that everyone else finds?  I... guess so.  I mean, it was very pretty.  But something was off.  The commercialism, the crazy drivers, the fact that I went at the height of wet season and it rained half the time... well, that was mostly my fault for poor planning, but it didn't help.

I didn't realize it was wet season.  Everywhere else in South East Asia (well, Indochina- Thailand, Cambodia, Laos, Vietnam) is dry and relatively cool from November to February, and unbearably hot and humid (for me anyway) the remaining eight months of the year.  Turns out when you cross that invisible equatorial line, the dry/wet season is reversed!  Did I even realize I was going south of the equator?  I don't think so.  My friend Stephen broke the news when I asked him for some advice.  But he assured me that it only rained every afternoon from 4PM, so with some careful planning and a good alarm clock, I could do activities in the morning and then relax in the afternoon and work on my blog.  And that's what I did most days.  Except the days where the rain started at 3PM.  Or 2PM.  Or 9AM.  And then I just stayed inside all day.  Because this is not rain like a slight drizzle, bust out the umbrella, get on with your holiday.  It's a torrential downpour that floods the streets and brings to a grinding halt all desires to seize the day.  

But I partially made up for it by giving myself two full weeks and two extra days on top of that.  Days of contingency! as I like to say.  I spent the first ten days in Ubud, a sleepy but beautiful area with a group of villages near the center of the island.  Ubud is famous for it's thriving arts scene and a certain woman who found herself there after a mid-life crisis.  (Side note: I spent a lot of time wandering around searching for Javier Bardem.) (Side side note: Kidding.)  

The first sunny morning, I went out to explore the town and go to the famous "Enchanted Monkey Forest" that is the highlight of any visit to Ubud.  To get there, I walked down the main drag in town which is unofficially called "Monkey Forest Road."  It was at the entrance to the Monkey Forest that I had one of my more profound realizations: monkeys suck.  Monkeys are not your friends.  They want bananas, and if you don't have any, they will steal your glasses or camera in a desperate attempt at banana extortion.  And if you hide your glasses and hold on tight to your camera, they will just try to freak you out.  I had only stepped a few meters passed the entrance when a monkey grabbed my waist from behind and swung from me like I was a tree.  I jumped up and down screaming, he finally let go, and I ran back to the entrance desperate for a large stick with which to protect myself.  They refused me and so I kindly said, "Fuck this" and left the Monkey Forest, which seemed otherwise like a very nice place to spend some time exploring.  Oh well.  I hadn't yet read the section in the Lonely Planet that says that when a monkey jumps on you, you should give it free reign, not freak out, and just let it do its thing.  But they could be rabid!!!

After a few days of avoiding the persistent rain, I finally booked a day tour to the Kintimani region to see some attractions outside of Ubud.  On the tour were two British girls who had just spent two weeks sitting around a hotel pool and getting drunk in Kuta.  Ugh!  How I judged them.  Kuta is the Phuket of Bali, the trashy part of the island (both literally and figuratively) that is filthy dirty and full of the most aggressive touts and the stupidest Australian kids, on holiday without their parents for the first time in their lives (you can visualize this, right?).  It's full of bars and nightclubs and it's where the terrorist bombings of 2002 took place.  I vowed never to visit.  These girls actually agreed with me on every point, but had been there for most of their trip nonetheless.  I started to think our tour guide might be from Kuta when he started enquiring about my 'girlfriend' (he really meant 'boyfriend' but I went along with the girlfriend questions).  "Do you have a girlfriend?"  "Umm...yes."  "Where is your girlfriend?"  "She's in Argentina."  "How long have you been with your girlfriend?"  "Hmmm... I've been dating her for about two years now."  Wow, how the time has flown!....  At one point on the day tour we got stopped at a police checkpoint, where they motioned us to pull over to the side of the road and the driver told us it was a "customs checkpoint".  We all looked at each other with confusion, none of us brought our passports with us.  He opened the door, slipped the cop 40,000 rupiah (about $4.50US) and drove off, muttering something about "Bali police very bad."

After 10 days in Ubud I packed up my bag and headed down to Legian, the town just north of Kuta.  The area on the Southwest coast of Bali is highly developed and the towns--Kuta, Legian, Seminyak--are so built up and densely packed, you can go from one to the next without realizing you've changed towns (besides noticing the slightly different vibes in each place).  

As I wandered around Legian looking for a room, I walked by a restaurant where a young Aussie guy and his travel mate were appearing to have a joyous reunion with an old friend, the local Balinese guy who owned the restaurant.  I had already passed by once and asked if they knew of any nearby accommodation within my budget, and on my way back, as they sat on pillows around a low-lying table on the front deck, they asked if I had had any luck searching down a certain gang (alleyway).  I said no and one of the Aussie guys said, "You look tired.  Take a break and have a beer with us."  Well, don't mind if I do!!  They were shocked that I had been in Bali for ten days and had not once tried the famously delicious Bintang beer.  After all that time by myself in Ubud I had finally come down to the surfers' hangout, quickly and easily met some friendly Aussie blokes and relaxed a little with an ice-cold one.

I think Bali is to the Australians what Hawaii is to the Americans, except slightly more exotic and obviously not an American colony.  It's nearby, it's tropical, it has the infrastructure to contain them all, and compared to Australia, which is also full of beautiful beaches and good surf, it is about a thousand times cheaper.  These two guys were family friends, one from Sydney, one from Melbourne, and Greg the Melburnian had been to Bali three times already and was taking Nick, the Sydneysider, around for his first trip.  After a few Bintangs we were fast friends and I started with the philosophical epiphanies.  "This flower came from a seed.  Isn't that incredible!!... We all started as seeds!  WOW!"  Greg, going off my Facebook pseudonym 'Louise Lucha', immediately nicknamed me LL Lou J and many more inside jokes followed... the boys had mosquito bites and I lent them some Tiger Balm, calling it the "bomb balm", which soon became "the BB Bomb D".  Anyway, you can see where this is going.  My loneliness was cured, until they left for the Gili Islands two days later and I moved down to Kuta to find a room with hot water.  

Memorial Square- site of the 2002 terrorist attacks :(

Yes, I sucked up my pride and went to Kuta.  Which was surprisingly, not that bad.  It wasn't as seedy and disgusting as everyone had made it out to be.  The touts and hassles from shopkeepers and "massaaaa(ge)" ladies was not any worse than in Bangkok or many other Southeast Asian hot spots.  And of course my constant smile, friendly demeanor and polite refusals went as far here as in any other place.  One day I started walking to the beach, which was only five minutes away, but turned around halfway.  The clouds were starting to gather and I just wasn't interested or motivated enough.  It was in times like these when I asked myself, What am I doing here?  I'm just not a beach person.  Hanging in all the souvenir shops are t-shirts and tote bags with "I <3 Bali" logos.  Every time I saw one I thought, But I don't love Bali.  In fact, I mildly dislike it.  

I started to think that maybe it's time to hang up my solo-traveler hat.  Traveling alone has been great.  I've met amazing people, I've had crazy experiences, as I've previously mentioned, there are numerous reasons why I prefer solo travel to going with a companion or larger group.  But this trip was different.   I felt the same in Myanmar... not very social and just really lonesome.  Alone time is great, I'm a huge fan, and I would still travel alone.  But now I'm thinking that maybe I should just go places where I have at least a friend or a friend-of-a-friend to visit, or where a Couchsurfing host or network will host me or make itself available if I get bored or lonely.  

Walking around Kuta, there are many signs for magic mushrooms.  Strange because I thought that hard drugs are illegal in Indonesia, and enforcement is strict, but nevertheless, there are these signs everywhere advertising shops selling shrooms.  I thought who in their right mind would do shrooms here?  In Kuta of all places?  A few days later I met a group of kids from Jakarta having breakfast at my guest house.  One of them had a guitar and I asked if I could play a few songs.  We started talking and they were nice enough to actually lend me the guitar for the day while they went to Ubud.  You would never have known that they were Muslim, besides the fact that the two girls in the group wore headscarves.  I saw them the next day and asked what they had done the night before... any parties? Clubbing? "No, just some shopping," they answered.  "Oh right, you guys are Muslim.  You don't drink."  Their response: "No, we only eat mushrooms."  (?!?!?!?!?!)  Mystery solved.

The six days in Legian went by very slowly, but finally it was time to head back to Bangkok and continue with my journey across the world.  The morning of my departure, I woke up to a relentless torrential rainstorm.  The courtyard of the guesthouse was flooding, and I had to carry my bags and suitcases one at a time over my head, pant legs rolled up high, to reception across an alley way where I was nearly knee-deep in water.  I better be able to get out of here today, I thought.  I couldn't deal with another day of internetting and avoiding the beach.  

On the way to the airport, the taxi driver told me that the upcoming Monday was Chinese New Year!  How serendipitous I found this news, as I was to spend a 36 hour layover in Hong Kong on Monday and Tuesday and catch the celebration from China!  What impeccable timing!  When I boarded the Air Asia flight, I opened the in-flight magazine and read article after article about the double arrival of 2012 (both Gregorian and in the Lunar Calendar),  and the auspiciousness of the Dragon.  And when I finally got back to the Green House (my Bangkok guest house) I turned on my iPod to find fifteen new Angry Birds levels, dragon themed, to commemorate the Chinese New Year as well.  Those game developers really know their audience!! (i.e. Asians. And me.)

Ohhh Siem Reap, my heart's favorite

After the Christmas party I went to Honour Village every day just to spend time with the kids.  The ten days went by so quickly, it was like punishment.  In Myanmar all I wanted was for time to speed up and the days to pass so I could get to Cambodia... now they wouldn't slow down.  I was swinging on the swings with Raht one day when Van the assistant-manager walked by.  I asked Van to translate to Raht, just to let him know, that I was only staying for 10 days this year.  A wave of disappointment came over his face and he walked away from me in a huff.  I felt terrible.  I knew I had to make it up to him and everyone else, and never come back again for less than a month at a time.  Later, at the mid-day meditation session, I sat next to Raht.  He gave me a suspicious look and asked me (with surprisingly good English): "So you only in Cambodia for 10 days?"  "Yes" I answered, with a sad frown.  "But you come back again, right?" "Of course!  Next year.  For much more time."  That, apparently, was all he needed to hear, that I wouldn't stay away forever.  He hugged me and all was suddenly forgiven.  I thought... If only things were that easy with mum.  

My last night, Prom insisted that I join him and his wife and his crew to check out a new beer garden that his friend had just opened up.  It was a restaurant in a part of town off the tourist trail, only frequented by the locals.  I was an insider in Siem Reap and I realized how lucky I was to have stayed at Prom's in 2009 and to have met Dan and Cat and Sue.  I don't even remember how I found Golden Takeo Guest House; maybe through a Google search.  I don't know if I should call it luck or fate or what, but I do feel that there are no accidents in life.  And this moment, in this place, was meant for me.

To quote a common expression that you often here the locals saying to foreigners (two actually):

Good luck for you!   See you when you see me!

And here's a song that Prom and Srey Mao taught me on the way to the beer garden:

Uh-oooh Siem Reap

Bandol chet uyyy

Knyom som lee huy

Lyuh dieng ah layyyy

Ooooh Siem Reap,

My heart's favorite

I would like to say goodbye

I still miss you, I don't want to leave

If you are traveling to Siem Reap and want to volunteer or just visit Honour Village, get in touch with Dan via the contact page on the website.  And if you want to make a donation, you can do so online through Virgin Money Giving.

I don't want to leave you sad, so here's some funny Funny Engrish shirts I found, some of which I bought, others, I just couldn't resist taking a photo to share with you...

PRECIOUS... I'm pleased with the prewent moment [yes, prewent]

My Heart Beats Like a Drum

Got to make your own breaks

One to one ... Never enough

YOU MAKE HEART

I just want to live while I'm alive. Flash to flash

Only God would know the reasons.

Tomorrow's getting

Everybody needs somebody to love.  Of society's lies

Right now we got to.  Lord we got to keep the faith

OVER HERE DECIDE VARNISH

[This next one is pretty dark!]

BROKEN

As for me, everything sometimes becomes strangely.

I Want To Give Everything Up And To ESCAPE.

However, I don't get it.

I have my LIFE and it's broken because it's

STILL FEARFUL.

Truth & False HEART section 001

Sweet Music

Why do my heart skips the beats

Cuteness at the best.  I very happy.

CLOSEUP

That's his favorite saying

TASTE GOOD

"You don't know what <3 [love] is 

until you know the meaning of the ROCK"

This one is my favorite; Dorothy found it for me:

[Perfect for me:]

A. PRINCESS & Cute

HAPPYOUR LOVE

Happy Sugar

ENCINUTERS WITH 

VARIOUS PEOPLE SHOULD

BE TREASURED.

A journey is a place

where we can fell human freedom.

We know each other well.

I did it out of curiosity.

It is very much to my taste.

You can select according

to your preference.

JOYFUL LOVE

I hope tomorrow will be a nice day.

Well,are you stwong and healthy?

There is no one who doesn't know this.

I hope to see more of you.

THE MAGIC LA.

And this one isn't Funny Engrish but it's ANGRY BIRDS and was too cute to pass up:

ANGRY BIRDS CHECK LIST:

Hang Out

Look Super Fly

Have Fun With My Peeps!

Cambodia: Take Three (Christmas 2011)

Although I had always wanted to visit Hong Kong, Myanmar and Bali, the whole trip to Asia this year was focused around spending the holidays in Cambodia with the kids.  That was the impetus and everything else was planned around it. (Well, also to meet Dylan's family in Cape Town but I'll get to that later.)

I arrived in Siem Reap on Christmas Eve with a determination not to pay more than $5 for the transfer to Golden Takeo, where I would be reunited with Prom, Tee Tee and the gang.  Many tuk-tuk drivers will take you to a hotel for free if they can choose it (and make some cash from the commission) but since I had already reserved and wouldn't dare think of staying anywhere else, I knew it was going to be a struggle.  I approached the group of drivers and told one where I was intending to go.  He hesitated and said he had to "talk to his boss" (who was where? I don't know) and I insisted that he tell me this instant how much it would cost, or I needed to find another ride.  "OK, OK $2."  Umm...how about $3 instead? I said.  I think I shocked him by upping his offer and he commented that I was so nice, and times were so hard-- crazy competition, tuk-tuk drivers desperate just to give one ride a day, charging as little as $1 a ride, and then he started going off on "this fucking corrupt government".  Yes, this tuk-tuk driver knew how to curse!!  He told me that the company selling admission to the Angkor Wat temples is actually a Vietnamese company with an 80-year contract, those "fucking Vietnamese", and while I was tired and desperate to get to Prom's place, I let him vent and told him that I knew all about it but I still loved the local people here, and it was my third visit to Cambodia, after all. 

On the ride to Golden Takeo I smelled the air, that sweet Siem Reap air, and it brought me to tears.  Tears of joy, a feeling that I was home again, that I was exactly where I was supposed to be, that I would come back again and again for this, this peace and the certainty of the love that I felt in my heart.  I don't know what it is about this place... if you're a believer it past lives, that might explain it, but I really can't say for sure why I have such an unceasing affinity.  It gives my life purpose.  The French expression raison d'être comes to mind.

That night when I arrived at Prom's he had gone "outside" (they say "go outside" instead of "go out" which always leaves you wondering if they are just right out front on the porch, or what!)  The guy at the front desk rang Prom to ask what room I would be staying in, and he put me on the phone.  "You stay with Srey Mao tonight in 105."  Uh... I thought about this for a second.  Srey Mao is Prom's wife.  I was a little bit confused.  I got the key and went to put my bags in Room 105 and realized, this is Prom and Srey Mao's room.  Prom got home and explained to me that he had overbooked and it would just be one night sleeping with Srey Mao in THEIR bed, and that he would sleep on the floor in the living room.  "But Prom I can stay across the street or something."  The street where Golden Takeo is located is lined with guesthouses.  He said, "No, I already tried that, they all full."  I argued, "well, I can sleep on the floor for the night, it's really no problem!"  And he protested, "No, you sleep on the floor, I feel bad.  I sleep on the floor, you sleep with Srey Mao.  Only one night then I have room for you tomorrow."  There was nothing I could do to argue it further, as he wasn't going to let me have it any other way.  And Srey Mao didn't mind either... just a small testament to how awesome they are and how they make me feel like family.

The next day I was positively GIDDY to get to Honour Village, reunite with the kids, meet all the new ones, and partake in the Christmas party festivities.  Two hundred children from the surrounding villages were expected to join in for an afternoon filled with activities, games and prizes.  But let me back track a moment because you need your introductory language lesson so you can impress the locals when you come to Cambodia yourself.

Good day = Susa-day

How are you? = Suksa-bye?

Thanks = Akun

There are variations of "thanks", one of which always gets uproarious laughter from the locals when used by foreigners.  "Akun cheran" means something like, "Thanks very much", but even better is "Akun maka-ploom" which translates literally as "Thanks heaping piles of shit."  It kind of sounds like it, doesn't it?  More roughly it translates to "Thanks heaps" or "Thanks a shit-ton" as we might say very informally.  I like the literal translation the best. Hehe

And then of course once you go to Honour Village and meet the kids you will want to know how to express your love for them in Khmer:

I love you = Knyom sro-lai nyit

Oh joy of joys!

But you probably won't need any of that now since all of the kids have made huge strides in their English speaking and comprehension.  It was the first thing I noticed when I arrived on Christmas Day.  They were all very surprised to see me-- a Christmas miracle for us all as I let out a huge sigh of relief that they actually remembered me.  I was swarmed with hugs and shouts of "La-Wee!"  Although there are many more children living at HVC now (46 and counting!), the new ones were eager to meet me and I think the old ones told them about me and that I had been there last year.  The first thing the kids mentioned actually, was this:

"Your dancing!  Your funny funny dancing."  I had forgotten about our dance party on my last day, as well as many other jokes and quips that their memories of me contained, such as the 'electric thumb' where we touch thumbs and I pretend like it was an electric jolt.  Ty remembered me well, even though we had only brought him to HVC a few days before I left, and he greeted me with the impeccable: "Hello La-Wee!  For how long you stay in Cambodia?"  I was speechless.  Many of the older kids could have basic conversations of this sort as well.  I was so happy and proud.

Many more changes had taken place in a year.  New buildings had gone up, another building was under construction, which will soon accommodate fifteen more children!  Building Two, with the open-air downstairs area had been closed off with four walls since the wet season storms started last year.  Everyone ate and conducted English classes in a huge dining hall/ classroom area.  Sue had moved offsite to a place ten minutes down the rode and now rode her own moto to work!  Her room had become the library.  There were play structures, a beautiful mural on one of the buildings, and a beautiful 'spirit house.'  Also much of the land had been filled with grass.  The red fence we painted had faded considerably and I wondered what another wet season would do for our paint job which had been my first project in 2010.  A family of chickens now roamed the property.  But of course all of that was secondary... the best was to see how the kids had grown and changed, teeth grown in, and hair grown out so long and pretty on all the girls.  Everyone was just gorgeous!!  Check out some of my 'before-and-after pics':

Srey Liek in 2010

Srey Liek in 2011!

Sopi in 2010

Sopi in 2011!

Srey Nit in 2010

Srey Nit in 2011- she got glasses to correct the lazy eye! :)

December 17, 2010 - A Day that Changed My Life

It was during the last week of my month-long volunteering stint in Cambodia that I finally accepted an invitation from Sue to join her and Chhunly to pick up a kid who would join the Honour Village family.  She had asked me to come along a few times before, but I had always made excuses, wanting to go home in the afternoon and relax after a long day of being pulled in a thousand different directions by the kids.  Finally I went along with her and Chhunly on the day they went to pick up Ty from his village.  

Ty was a fourteen year-old boy who had quit school at age 12, his mother deceased and his father "in the military" (?) for the past ten years.  He was living with his aunt and grandmother.  His 27-year old aunt had three babies of her own, all under age five.   He worked a very dangerous job of cutting coconuts from tall palm trees, earning 25-50 cents (in US$) per day (probably chopping the same coconuts that are sold for $1 each to tourists in town).  I don't remember how Sue had found out about him, but she had spoken to him and his relatives about the possibility of coming to live at Honour Village.  He expressed interest and his guardians agreed, so on December 17 we went to the village to fill out the paperwork and bring him to his new home.  I had never been out to the villages before, and it blew me away.  It was only a 20-30 minute drive from HVC itself, and also relatively close to the 'bustling' small city of Siem Reap.  

On the way to Ty's village

A kid returning hope from work in Ty's village

Noticing my shock, Sue reminded me that once the kids come to HVC and put on clean clothes and start playing games, it's hard to imagine that they have all come from places like this.  Most villages are a group of 'houses' made of thatched hay.  Their beds are slats of wood.  The elders (probably not as old as they look) are missing teeth and can't read or write.  They collect their own firewood.  They struggle to be self-sustaining, doing agricultural work and raising their own livestock.  Many travel to town or farther distances to work for pennies a day.  

Ty's family signing the paperwork

Like my first time Cambodia, my mental world came crashing down.  Meeting Ty's family and seeing where he was from and what life here was like was a watershed moment in my personal history.  These are truly the 'forgotten people'.

On the ride to HVC, Ty was utterly silent and seemed scared and a bit suspicious.  When we arrived, all the kids swarmed the tuk-tuk, the older boys leading him by the hand to introduce him to everyone and show him everything he needed to know and help him get settled.  Two days later, I saw the change had taken place - he seemed right at home. 

I realized that the day we went to pick up Ty was exactly a year since I had met Sue at the other orphanage where she had been volunteering in 2009.  And that same day, December 17, I decided just like in 2009, that I was going to return next year.  No matter the nature of my graduate program's schedule, I was going to make it work to come back, at least to spend Christmas with the kids since I wasn't able to in 2010.  I had learned so much there about the meanings of life and love in just a few short weeks.  I fell in love with Cambodia all over again, thanks to Sue and the kids.  December 17 was a turning point in my life, an experience of which the memory will always remain with me.  

Volunteering in Cambodia in 2010

Most of the kids come from homes like this one

For some reason I have a really hard time writing about Cambodia 2010.  I did this last year too- I put it off and put it off and never got the motivation to write about my experiences, which were some of the best of the entire Asia 2010 trip.  Why does this keep happening to me?  Maybe it's because I don't think that my writing will do justice to the experience.  Or because it will box it up into just what I share with you, and not include as much depth as it actually had.  Nevertheless, I must try to give you at least a snippet of what I saw and learned during that short time.   For much greater detail and more insight into the volunteering experience and life in Siem Reap in general, see Dorothy's blog.  I especially like her recent post on the commute to HVC, and some posts from last year about daily life at the children's village, and the silliness that is Cambodian fashion.

So... In November 2010 I went back to Cambodia to volunteer for the fledgling "children's village" started by Sue Wiggans.  I spent four weeks in Siem Reap, just as Honour Village was opening its gates and taking in the first kids.  It was not expected to be in operation yet but the development and construction had gone way ahead of schedule.  My first week there was one without any children.  I met the Khmer staff, who were already doing basic English lessons with a teacher every morning.  It was a small group of about nine-- cooks, gardeners and soon-to-be 'house mothers', the only people (besides the Khmer manager) on payroll.  Everyone else-- Sue, the volunteers, the trustees doing fundraising and operations in the UK-- were working solely on a voluntary basis and getting no compensation.  Sue even put her house in England on the market to contribute to funding the project before there was any formal sponsorship.  There are no overhead costs, so money donated by sponsors goes directly to the operational cost: food, clothes, toys, supplies, construction, utilities, and the Khmer staff and caretakers who work for local wages.  

Lunch time with the first four- still early days!

Sue explained the reasons why Honour Village was called a "children's village" and not an "orphanage".  She noted the Dickensian connotations in the word "orphanage", and insisted that the children of HVC wouldn't be begging for a bowl of soup like Oliver.  Also, most of the kids aren't orphans, and have at least one living parent who can't care for them for a variety of reasons (I'll talk about some of the different circumstances later).  The kids are not up for adoption.  They had to be legally adopted by Honour Village and will live there until age 18, or later if they are not yet ready to live independently or go to university by that time.  Most of them, upon arrival, are older than age 5, so how could you expect someone that age to be adopted by a Westerner and sent to live in a foreign country?  Unlike places such as China, it is very difficult for Westerners to adopt Cambodian children and it is not common.   For the children to come under the care of Honour Village, Sue and Chhunly the manager would have to meet the families or guardians of the children and evaluate each particular situation.  Poverty is rife in Cambodia, but there are varying degrees of it, and Sue and Chhunly have the most difficult task of deciding who has the most need.  They go to the villages (usually not far from the actual site of HVC) where the children live and must get the signatures from the parents or guardians to take custody.  They  also must pay for the signatures of the village chief and the headmaster of the children's school (if any), as well as to collect paperwork such as birth certificates (if any).  Parents or family members can visit the children onsite whenever they please, and they often do.  And for Khmer New Year, which occurs at some point in April according to the lunar calendar, most of the children go home to celebrate with their families (if circumstances allow).  So for these reasons and more, it is not an "orphanage".  I liken it to a permanent boarding school that is close to home and completely free.  

Kuni and his dad at home

Many of the situations that Sue and Chhunly investigated were dire, but if there was even one parent that was able to care for and feed the children with relative competency, they were not eligible to join Honour Village.  Many children came to HVC with at least one sibling, but many (even those arriving in pairs or groups of siblings) left brothers and sisters at home as well.  It all depended on the circumstances and the decision made by the parents.  One brother-sister duo had a mother who traveled far and spent long periods away to find work, and a father who had been a victim of a land-mine accident (very common in Cambodia) and had only one leg.  He stayed at home to look after the children with increasing difficulty.  Two sisters had been rescued from an abusive step mother and had been living at a women's shelter for two months, not going to school, before HVC took custody of them.

Big group of kids arrive to move in - many are siblings or cousins

Most of the children were eager to join.  I remember Sue telling me the story of the first two brothers who came to live at HVC.  It is a sad tradition in Cambodia (well, sad in a Westerner's mind) that if a man is widowed and remarries, the children from his first marriage aren't incorporated into the new family and are sent to live with an aunt or grandma.  I'm not sure why that is.  The first boy who came to live at HVC had packed his bag and was ready to leave upon Sue and Chunnly's first visit, and was dearly disappointed to find out he would have to wait longer for all of the paperwork to be processed.  Although most of the kids arrived with trepidation and nervousness, it was beautiful to see how quickly their moods changed after only a few days of getting used to life with clean clothes, good meals, toys, and a large group of loving caretakers.  That's not to say that they never felt homesick; it was hard for me to tell because they couldn't express themselves in English.  But after the grand opening party which most of the children's parents attended, some of them cried when they left.  And I'm sure they do miss their parents, especially the ones whose parents live further away and can't visit as much.  Still, they seem happy for the most part-- playing, loving, learning, and eating to their hearts' content three times a day.  They are an incredibly adaptable bunch.

The fence didn't stay so red after the 2011 floods!

People always asked me, "what are you doing as a volunteer?"  That question was always hard to answer because I was really just helping Sue as we went along.  My first week, before any children arrived, I was doing things like painting gates, applying varnish to bed frames, and assembling plastic crates to hold the kitchenware - things that I wouldn't do for money.  That's the irony of volunteering!!  Then the children started to arrive - first two, then four, then ten, and by the end there were about 23 and more to follow.  Sue bought them bicycles to get to and from school, and at that time there were not yet formal English lessons being conducted onsite.  I continued doing odd-jobs in the morning for Sue and when the kids came home from school (they only do half days in Cambodia and most of Asia), I was there to administer games and activities, if they felt so inclined to give me the time of day!  Cambodian children are very adept at entertaining themselves, making toys and games out of anything really, and even before I brought out the building blocks and art supplies, they were finding ingenious ways to play amongst themselves during their free time.  They were never bored, even without the paper and colored pencils I brought.  But, man, did I love drawing time.  The kids didn't speak any English at first, but we managed.  I learned a few key terms ("Chai k'meer" = share!, "Kom s'op k'neer" = no hitting, etc.)  

Yay for drawing time!

At times I had moments of great realizations- namely, all that I had taken for granted in my life.  When I first brought in paper and colored pencils for drawing, the kids, who were not used to having things as basic as art supplies, would hoard them.  I would drop 36 pencils on the table and after a few moments of grabbing and running around, 20 of the pencils would disappear.  They were each taking a few up to the bedrooms to hide them for later use.  They didn't understand sharing, nor the concept of communal property.  They didn't realize that every day, or whenever they felt like it and asked me, I would bring out pencils and paper for them to draw with.  They were still thinking in survival mode and thought that if they didn't take the opportunity to hide away a pencil for themselves, they might not get a chance to use one again.  It made me think of all the time I spent in art class at school, using materials paid for by other people.  I went to a private elementary school, but I thought, even at public schools, where does all that stuff come from?  Who buys the supplies?  It can be traced back to the tax-payers.  That's developed society for you.  I used to be annoyed by the assignments in art class.  For these kids, it's a luxury.  They always just wanted one more paper!!

By the end of my time there I was known as "La Wee".  Cambodians generally have a hard time pronouncing names that end with a closed "S" sound.  I loved it from the moment I heard it.  I would arrive in my tuk-tuk as the kids were peddling home from school and they would shout, "Hello La Wee!!"  Then, upon arrival home, greet me with the more formal "Ree-up su, La Wee", hands together with a bow and sometimes a hug for good measure.  I never wanted to leave.  

When things don't go according to plan...

...They often turn out even better.

As 2010 rolled around, I moved back to the States on a more permanent basis for the first (and last) time since mid-2007.  I was applying for a graduate program in Vancouver, Canada and planned to defer a semester if I was accepted for the September start.  I wanted to go back to Cambodia to volunteer that winter, as well as travel to some other countries in the region that I had not yet seen.  So I was elated when the university notified me that I hadn't been accepted for the September semester but they would be happy to have me start with the January cohort.  Works for me!

I started planning my trip backwards... Cambodia for four weeks until just before Christmas.  Thailand for three weeks before that.  I had missed it in 2009 and wanted to see the highly regarded northern region around the city of Chiang Mai.  I also had met some Thai kids from Bangkok in Vang Vieng (that tubing place) who told me, "you must go to Pai!  It's like Vang Vieng five years ago!  Go before it changes too much!"  So I said, "I'm going, I'm going!" and I worked it into the itinerary as well.  Through some random coincidences that are not interesting enough to describe in detail here, I also decided I would volunteer for four weeks in Dharamsala, India to start the trip off.  So I was to spend three month across India, Thailand and Cambodia; the way to end 2010 just as I had hoped.

Some time after I had booked all of my plane tickets I got a mass email from Dan with some sad news.  He said that after much time, effort and attempts at allocating donations and fundraising for the orphanage, they realized that the money had been used by the owner to maintain a luxurious lifestyle for him and his family while many of the children suffered from neglect and unfair treatment.  Other groups having worked with this organization in the past had discovered the same corruption and had abandoned the project.  Located just off the National Highway 6 on the way to some popular temples, busloads of tourists were stopping in daily to briefly meet the kids and get a glimpse of the organization, then inspired to donate money and goods that were being misappropriated-- money laundered for personal use and goods re-sold at the marketplace.  The British volunteers were completely disheartened and disillusioned, only to find out that these types of operations were common all over Cambodia and elsewhere in the developing world.  

Dan wrote: "After lots of discussions with leading charities here, the short rule is - those places that do not have a child protection policy in place or transparent accounting available for anyone to inspect should be avoided.  The Child Protection Scheme Cambodia is now on a drive to convince tourists to avoid 'orphanages' that do not have specific visiting hours for example."

I was glad that the veil had been lifted on the corruption, but I felt sad for the children.  Those who I believed to be so lucky to be 'saved' from their poverty and given a chance for some upward mobility in life, actually being used as pawns in a ploy to rip off tourists and kind-hearted sponsors.  I also didn't know what to do about my Cambodia plan now.  I wanted to help in some way, but how could I know who was legit?  Dan gave me some recommendations for reputable organizations but the application process was going to be lengthy.  

A short while later, another email arrived with some great news.  Sue had managed to connect with a local Member of Parliament, His Excellency Seang Nam, a hugely influential figure in the region and owner of many local establishments and a lot of undeveloped land in the vicinity of Siem Reap.  Sue told him about the corruption she had encountered but was insistent on finding some way to help Cambodian youth.  At the time, she was trying to develop a sponsorship program for university students.  HE Seang Nam offered a plot of land twenty minutes outside of the city to be used for the establishment of a new 'children's village'.  Sue, a 68-year old retired primary school teacher from the Isle of Wight, was very hesitant to start such a huge undertaking on her own, and asked if she could give the land to a pre-existing NGO that would be able to make use of it.  HE Seang Nam trusted her to do with it what she saw fit, and after a short time deliberating over the possibilities, Sue decided to commit to a retirement in Cambodia as founder, head developer and managing director of HONOUR VILLAGE!!!

Development on the land started immediately but was expected to take a lot longer that it actually did.  The first children were not expected to arrive until March, but when I got in contact with Sue she told me that there was a possibility that they would be ahead of schedule, and even if not fully up and running, I could help out in many ways or connect with other organizations once on the ground.  So I moved forward confidently with my plan to return to Cambodia. 

Volunteering in India didn't go as successfully as I had hoped... if you want to read more about it, see my blog from last year, Things I've been Meaning to Tell You, (in particular, this post about my trouble as a solo female traveler.)  My first ever visit to Thailand was great, especially considering it felt so developed and 'first-worldly' after my time in India. I went straight to the north and enjoyed some sites and activities in the Chiang Mai region before joining a 10-day Vipassana meditation course.  It was the most intense and challenging experience of my life.  You can read about it here, here, here and here (or just start at the first link and work your way forward in the posts).  Then... to Siem Reap. :)

Finally on November 22, 2010 I landed at the Siem Reap airport where I was greeted by Tee Tee again.  I lived at Golden Takeo (Prom's guest house) for the month, in a room that didn't have any hot water!!  Looking back on it now, I don't know how I managed.  I really surprised myself with that one.  I soon discovered the joys of Khmer curry, pineapple fried chicken, and spicy beef salad, three dishes which I ate nearly three days a week, without ever tiring.  And very shortly after my arrival, my work at Honour Village began, which I will tell you about... if you stay tuned. ;)

My Cambodian Love Story - How It Began

My eternal flame of love that burns for Cambodia was first sparked in 2009.  I had been living in North Richmond, the Vietnamese neighborhood of Melbourne, Australia and I was intrigued.  I decided I wanted to go to Vietnam, and when a trip to Bali with a boyfriend fell through— because we broke up just before the trip— I easily changed my ticket, which was routed through Kuala Lumpur on Air Asia.  (In a strange twist of irony, I’m writing you this story from Bali now.)

I went with the intention of traversing the well-trodden ‘tourist trail’ through Vietnam, and the Southeast Asian way of life instantly shocked and impressed me.  Although I didn’t find the Vietnamese to be the friendliest people in the region, I didn’t really know any difference at that point or have a basis for comparison, so it was a good way to start things off.  I couldn’t believe that this was how majority of the world (i.e. the people of the Asian continent) were living:

It made me think a lot about my life and changed my world view tremendously in a very short time.  I was to spend a full month in Vietnam, but I had already planned before leaving Australia to take three days out of that month to pop over to Siem Reap, Cambodia and see the temples of Angkor Wat.  It would be a rushed trip but I wasn’t sure if or when I would be able to return to the region, or if I would even WANT to return, and I knew that Angkor Wat was one of those ‘must-see’ places.

I started the Vietnam trip in the north, in the city of Hanoi.  I stayed in a hostel there where I met many other young travelers who had just arrived from Laos.  They raved about the tubing in Vang Vieng and the beauty of Laos’s cultural capital, Luang Prabang.  Hmmm… I thought.  What if I can get through Vietnam just a little bit faster and spend 6 days in Laos also to visit these two places?  Before I had even left Hanoi, I re-routed my plane ticket to take me to Laos first on the way to Cambodia, before catching flights back to Saigon (in southern Vietnam), back to Kuala Lumpur (where I had to switch planes) and finally back home to Melbourne.

Vietnam did not inspire me.  The landscapes and Asian way of life were impressive.  The kids were cute but the adults, how can I say this diplomatically?  Not so friendly.  Really pushy.  Aggressive.  Mean.  They always acted incredibly offended by your bargaining efforts when really THEY were the ones trying to get 10x the real value out of you. (e.g. $20 for a fridge magnet? You must be having a laugh.  Oh wait, you’re not? Then fuck you.)  Maybe they feel scorned from the war and hold it against the white folks.  I was a little embarrassed to be an American there, but I usually got “Obama!” and a smile as a response to answering honestly the question “Where are you from?”  Still, I only really enjoyed my time in a few places (Sapa, Hoi An and Dalat being the best) and I was happy to be getting out and going to Laos, where supposedly the people were a lot more friendly.

And they were, albeit a bit shy, but probably due to a lack of knowledge of the English language.  Tubing was fun, something I recommend even the older and more serious travelers, just for the natural beauty of the surrounding area and novelty and silliness of the tubing experience.  I was shocked, after my experiences in Vietnam, that a little granny with a few missing teeth sold me a beer lower than asking price just because she didn’t have the correct change.  What a stark difference!

Then to Luang Prabang, which was stunningly beautiful and full of good vibes.  Of course, as in anywhere in Southeast Asia, there were children selling trinkets.  A little girl (pictured below) convinced me to buy from her a purple bracelet, to match my mostly purple outfit.  Even when I wasn’t buying anything, they were just down to chat and practice their English, and they were so darn cute.

I discovered an NGO in Luang Prabang called “Big Brother Mouse”, a local book publisher that makes children’s books, some in Lao language, and some with Lao text and English text side by side.  The books cost $1-$2 and you can buy some to give to the kids who are forced by their parents or whomever to wander the streets at all hours of the day and night pushing trinkets.  Kids would come up to me with their trays of bracelets and little Buddhas and I would offer them a book instead.  They were elated, and as I walked away I would turn around to seem them having taken a break on a bench or the sidewalk, distracted from their labour and enthralled by the books.  And amazed that I had given them a gift.  

This filled my heart with so much joy.  I was having lunch one day when two or three girls came up to me at my table, trying to sell me whatever little souvenirs for which I had no need.  I told them that if they could find me tomorrow, I would take them to Big Brother Mouse to buy them books.  We ran into each other again the next day and they lead me to the shop.  As we walked through the town, more kids joined our group and suddenly I turned around and saw that I had amassed a posse of 12 kids who were keen for some books!!  I obliged but made some of them pose for a photo in exchange for the gifts:

I started to feel something.  I couldn’t quite put it into words but I knew that I loved Laos, the people were gracious and kind, the place was beautiful, and it was a smart idea to cut out of Vietnam early and take the opportunity to check it out.  Next stop was Cambodia, my final three days in this South East Asian adventure.

And, well, wow.  Wow wow wow.  One of the first thoughts that came to mind, as strange as this may sound, was Now I understand what Angelina Jolie was on about it!  It doesn’t take a visit to the Killing Fields to gain a deeper understanding for what happened there in the 70s and 80s, when Pol Pot’s regime (the Khmer Rouge) committed an atrocious genocide, decimating about a fifth of the population, and absurdly killing most of Cambodia’s middle class as well as anyone unable to hide their decent education or intelligence (even those with bad eyesight- people wearing glasses were assumed to be smart because it proved they could read).  And yet… and yet.  The people of Cambodia were the warmest and friendliest I had ever encountered, despite the devastation of the genocide and fallout that ensued.  Their smiles seemed more genuine than the rest; they’re welcoming attitudes warmed me.  The children!!  Sweet little angels, all of them, who I feel, deserved so so so much better.  I felt an inexplicable affinity to this little place and its people.

Seeing life in Siem Reap made me seriously re-examine my own.  How could I have grown up with so much and still be so miserable?  How could I have taken so much for granted in my life?  Why wasn’t I born poor somewhere like this, like the majority of the world, but instead, in Marin County- one of the safest, wealthiest, most visually-stunning places on the planet?  Whyyyyy?  These questions weighed heavily on me for months to follow.

The Cambodians, in my experience, didn’t show any resentment towards Westerners, despite the fact that the Vietnam War more than spilled over into most regions Cambodia, most telling by all the people with missing limbs due to accidental encounters with unexploded land mines from that era.  They seemed happy with our presence and grateful to have a rising tourist industry, having had all of their other industries and infrastructure suffer such major blows, and having been basically closed to outsiders since the war ended and for much longer after that.

I felt lucky.  Lucky to have the opportunity to visit Cambodia and be exposed to it all… to have these experiences that were so life altering for me.  And it all started with this guy:

Prom, manager of the Golden Takeo Guesthouse.  I don’t know how I found the guesthouse, maybe a quick Google search for accommodation, but Prom hooked me up!  I wanted a room with aircon for myself, which he discounted since the all the aircon rooms at the time were for two or more people.  I wanted to take the helium balloon to see the sunset over the temples my first night.  I wanted to watch sunrise from the hill the next morning and see the ‘big 3’ temples, Angkor Wat, Angkor Thom and Ta Prohm.   I’d need a tuk-tuk driver to pick me up from the airport and take me around to get all of this done in a very short period.  Prom replied quickly to my request, telling me it was all sorted, and just needing to know, “you are Ms. Or Mr.?”  I landed at the airport and met Tee Tee the tuk-tuk driver, who remains my good friend:

One of these three days staying at Golden Takeo, between all this temple touring and various bouts of yucky tummy, I took a seat in the lounge and was chatted up by a British guy, Dan, who offered me a beer out of the fridge like he owned the place (it was kind of his home for the past two months).  He told me he had been volunteering at an orphanage with his girlfriend Cat since October.  They had come to Siem Reap on their way to Australia with working holiday visas, similar to mine which had just expired.  It was not their first time in Siem Reap, but they came back to see the Ruluos Group (some temples further afield) during the wet season.  They had met some kids from the orphanage selling wood carvings and started volunteering there.  They never made it to Australia.

I expressed interest in visiting the place and Dan told me I was most welcome.  The morning of my last day before my flight out of town I went to see what it was all about.  The kids swarmed me, asking me all sorts of questions using whatever English they knew, took me by the hands and led me to the spirit house in the field behind the center.  

On that fateful day I met Sue Wiggans, a retired British primary school teacher who had met the children in a similar way as Dan and Cat while touring Cambodia the previous year.  She had returned to volunteer for 8 weeks and she gave me a little bit more insight into the situation and the extreme poverty that had inspired her to action.

I decided that day that I would return to Cambodia and volunteer with the kids as well the following year, 2010.  So it wasn’t to be my first and last trip to Southeast Asia after all….