Farewell

July 4, 2011

11 cities, 10 flights, 4 bus rides, 6 countries, and 3 weeks of new
friendships, knowledge, and memories later and we are coming to the
end of our journey. We are stationed in Bangkok now and headed back to
spend a night in Hong Kong until we leave for Newark to start our real
lives.

A trip like this makes one question several things:
-Why do we sweat the smallest things when people living in the world's
worst poverty are able to enjoy the simple things in life?
(guy chilling on motorcycle picture)
--Why work 100 hour weeks when I can retire rich to Vietnam with my
savings account at age 22?
--How do eight massage places on one block stay in business?
-- Why is Chinese food so repulsive in America and so delicious in China?
--Was this blog made for this trip?  Or was this trip taken for this blog?

While these mysteries may never be solved, I know all of us appreciate
now more than ever before our freedoms and how fortunate we were to be
raised in our families and country.  Happy Independence Day.

I encourage all readers to make it to Southeast Asia at some point in
their lives if possible.  Questions regarding itinerary, pricing,
tour guides, recommendations or just general musings can be directed
to the comments below and we will be sure to answer them.

Until next time…

If a Stevie Falls in the Forest

Does it make a sound?

In our last entry the Steves and I were leaving the tropical paradise of Koh Samui for the dense jungle of Chiang Mai. We signed up for two days of ziplining, elephant riding, mountain biking, white water rafting and bar hopping. We succeeded in all but the latter.

There were only three things between us and these extreme adventures: Bangkok Airways, Thai Elections and Dengue Fever.

Bangkok Airways, the self-proclaimed boutique airline in Asia, was superb. Although Lang encountered issues since he had misplaced his Visa credit card somewhere in Hong Kong, Bangkok Air really plays up its brand. From “Asia’s Boutique Airline Lounge” for all seating classes—we ate breakfast four times on our journey to Chiang Mai, twice on each leg of the flight and in both airports—to the remote domestic destinations it flies to the preflight announcements where, even when the flight attendant announces the flight plan in Thai (he did in English, too), he says “Asia’s Boutique Airline” in English then resumes Thai.

Next were the Thai elections. Last year, when results were announced riots broke out and 90 protestors were killed. An equally contentious election this year, we were slightly worried. What if all the pilots went on strike? What if Bangkok overnight turned into Syria or Lebanon or Egypt or Yemen or Libya or…? What if the military backed incumbent kidnapped American tourists in Thailand? Well, Thai voters decisively and democratically elected their first female prime minister. Of all elections to be fixed, the one where the first female is elected clearly isn’t one of them. The incumbent conceded and congratulated Ms. Yingluck. Phew.

Last was Dengue Fever. We’re not sure what Stevie has, but with his spirits high we’re confident it’s not the bubonic plague. Unfortunately, this would cut Steve’s adventure in Chiang Mai short as he was bedridden day two here. Get well soon!

Obstacles aside, we woke up at 4am for our Chiang Mai flight and by 9am we were there ready for Jungle Flight—Chiang Mai’s premier ziplining experience. We met our two tour guides for the afternoon affair. Surprisingly, the first introduced himself as Mr. Boston. Unsurprisingly, he claimed to be from Massachusetts. He introduced us to our other tour guide, known only as Boston’s father in law. We also met a guide named Miami. Apparently he’s as knowledgeable about the Heat as Marcos Perez.

Boston, clearly from the village this excursion takes place, is Spiderman. He jumped from B52s in the military and ziplines as flawlessly as Spiderman navigates the Chicago skyline. Safety is of utmost importance when a carabineer is the only thing between you and the trees 50-120 meters below you. So when Stevie asked the guy adjusting his equipment who spoke no English whether it was safe and his friend responded, “of course, it’s his first day,” our fears escalated. We made our way to the first platform where Boston gave us our safety tutorial. Afterward, we waited for about five minutes as Boston was on his walkie talkie.

Boston quietly: “(Speaking Thai) mayday, mayday (more Thai)”

Us: “Uhh…what’s Mayday?”

Boston: “Oh nothing, just due to the rain, the tree on the second platform may fall at any moment”

Us: “What?”

[Awkward two minute pause]

Boston: “I’m kidding! We’re waiting for a couple more people.”

Sometimes it’s okay when they don’t speak English very well.

Ultimately, Jungle Flight was extremely safe and professional. At all moments, we were either attached to the tree on the platform or the zipline. You would have to go out of your way to fall. If you’ve never ziplined before, do it! You are offered an unparalleled view of the jungle and the surrounding mountains. The longest line we went on was 300 meters platform to platform. To put you in the moment, imagine going to a professional football game where the stadium is three times as long and you’re 100 meters above it zooming across the field ESPN 360-game-camera-style on a one inch wide tight rope.

We bowed out early for the night to prepare for day two in Chiang Mai sans Stevie. Lang and I first took an hour long elephant ride. There’s no way our 360 pounds can be comfortable for the elephant, but our elephant Pho Nanh was always satisfied with the bamboo sized sugarcane treats we fed him. Joining our tour was two friendly Irish women who rode a female elephant. An elephant with a similar Thai name to Pho Nanh, Tessa ate all grass, trees and sugar canes in her path.

A stark contrast to the casual elephant-back ride was the challenging mountain bike ride. Our first 100 meters of the trip were through a muddy, quicksand like, elephant and oxen dung filled moat. While we could have started where our path (a road) starts, the mud added character to our shoes, clothing and faces. We were surprised to find out that leg two of our journey was coincidentally leg 15 of the Tour De France. Although the only other bikers on the road where motorcyclists (and a few babies riding shotgun), we scaled a mile long uphill mountain. In the brochure, the pictures of this part of the tour were filled with smiles of riders on durable mountain bikes. We, however, were using Soviet brake pad free mountain bikes. Even our tour guide had never taken this route before. Needless to say, we didn’t earn the yellow jersey upon arriving to home base for lunch.

Following a classic Caribbean soul food fried chicken and rice lunch, we were off to the Moon River for a two hour white water rafting journey. Having traveled during the rainy season, we knew we were in for a ride not to mention the fact none of us (there were 12 split into three boats) had ever white water rafted, let alone on Class 4 (of 6) rapids.

Each boat was equipped with a captain and our boat consisted of Lang, two girls from Sawrey (outside London) both named Emily and me. The English speaking guide offered a comprehensive tutorial to both educate and scare us. We learned commands such as forward, backward, get down, back to work, right and left. The latter was only used in one circumstance. In the calmest of waters, our captain yelled LEFT! Everyone shifted to the left side of the boat and our captain capsized it sending us all in the water. Don’t any of you remember that the second time a new marine crosses the equator he’s hurled into the water? An oversized bug caused our second traumatic experience when it landed in our raft. Emily shrieked and jumped into the other Emily while Lang instinctively reacted jumping onto my side of the raft and jabbing his knee on my paddle. Another close call, we were back on our feet ready to conquer the rapids. While we were the C team on the river—our captain and the kayaking spotters constantly laughed at us—we were as perseverant as the Little Engine That Could. At one point, we took on enemy fire as fellow rafters splashed us. We simply paddled away; sometimes you just have to be the bigger boat.

Exhausted and back at the hotel, we had a few hours to relax before meeting up with our fellow rafters for drinks. In this night, we discovered the top three ways American tourists get sent to a Thai prison.

3. Placing a bet with the wrong guy at Muay Thai boxing

2. Not paying your Tuk Tuk driver 60 Bhat ($2)

As we mentioned, we had planned to meet the people from the tour at a bar named “The Wall.” After minor research we found the location of the bar online; it was on the bottom floor of a hotel in Old City. Our first Tuk Tuk driver, seeing the word “hotel,” took us to a hotel. 0 for 1. Our second Tuk Tuk driver didn’t understand the social concept of meeting friends at a bar and kept trying to take us to bars in general (strip bars, karaoke bars and strip karaoke bars). Upfront, we told him we’re not paying unless we get to our destination. We made three laps around the city and ended our journey within 50 meters of our pick up. We refused to pay the 60 Bhat so he cursed us off (we think). You may find us on Thailand’s most wanted. 0 for 2. Ultimately we found a large brick wall in Old City that lacked a bartender, the Irish girls, Emilys and British Fellas we were looking for. Strike three.

Irish girls, Emilys, British Fellas: If you’re reading this, we tried! We even went to the outdoor sushi stands in the market because you mentioned you had been there the night before!

1. Purchasing alcohol the only day it’s banned.

We’ve been in Southeast Asia for three weeks without encountering so much as one law, rule or even suggestion, until now. We happened to be in Thailand on the one day alcohol was not for sale. Since the national elections were controversial last year, the government wanted to minimize political unrest by limiting alcohol consumption. It had been a long day and we were hoping to relax with a Chang beer. We entered 7-Eleven. No dice. If beer isn’t for sale at bars, it’s not for sale at convenience stores. We then traveled less than a block to another 7-Eleven. This attendant didn’t get the memo. We purchased a couple beers to take back to the hotel. I was worried this may have been a Chris Hanson sting operation (too soon?) and we would be swarmed by Thai police and spend the fourth in prison. No police in sight, we enjoyed our final few hours in Chiang Mai.

Happy Fourth of July everyone!

We’ll be back in the states in a couple days. Expect one final post!

Operation Koh Samui

Oh Jack talk Thai. Jack talk Thai very well.

You may remember “Operation Koh Samui” from that scene at the end of Meet the Parents when Ben Stiller gets kicked out of the house, right before we learn that his real first name is Gaylord. Koh Samui is the tropical island where Robert DeNiro arranged for the suprise honeymoon in Meet the Parents. Having loved that movie, Koh Samui was the natural choice for our second honeymoon of the trip.

Our first day on Koh Samui was spent at the beach, kayaking, exploring and recovering from our previous night in Bangkok. While we were floating around in the crystal clear, coral filled water of the Gulf of Thailand, a vendor selling an assortment of balls and Frisbees appeared on the distant beach with the largest grin known to mankind. Looking to make a few Baht off some tourists, Ballman solicited us to shore by tossing a red football over his head and dancing around back and forth on the beach.

I was born and raised in Stony Brook, NY, a quaint university town on Long Island. That University is Stony Brook University, a fairly unknown state university with a football team that even the most avid college football fan has probably never heard of. I couldn’t be much further from home right now; Koh Samui is over 9000 miles away and would require a ferry, a bus, three flight changes and at least a 30 hour journey to get to back to eastern Long Island. That’s why when I saw that one of the two footballs that grinning Ballman was selling was a red Stony Brook Seawolves branded mini-football I couldn’t help but to laugh. A lot of things we have seen here simply don’t make sense but this one takes the cake for me. He looked at me and starting laughing as well, even though it was clear he had no idea what was going on.

We spent the remainder of the day walking around the main strip and ended with a great dinner. I ordered the shark, Jeff a 15oz steak, and Lang the Land, Sea, and Air Combo for Two featuring eight different animals and a plate that had to weigh at least three pounds.

The night ended abruptly as an island disease hit me hard and suddenly after dinner. After running a 103 fever all night with all too many symptoms of dengue fever, I checked into the Samui International Hospital, conveniently located next to our luxury resort.

When I was teaching in a remote Andes Mountain village atop a 14,000 foot peak in Peru two summers ago, I foolishly left my window open one night. The temperature during the day at the time was a pleasant 60 degrees. At night the temperature would drop down to the low teens, and the lack of heat, electricity, and hot water made the bitter cold inside my mud made house painfully uncomfortable, even under several layers of locally made alpaca sweaters. Waking up to an open window, a freezing room, and a mild case of hypothermia, I headed down to the local hospital, a one room tiled hut adjacent to the church at one end of town. The doctor laid me down and proceeded to use the ancient Incan language Quechua to chant healing prayers while rolling an egg back and forth on my forehead. Although I did feel better later that day, modern medicine tells me that the doctor’s method in curing my ailment was probably misguided.

My world tour of remote location hospitals continued yesterday. (Un)Fortunately, no ancient prayer or medieval medicine was practiced this time. Simply a quick flip on my stomach and the Thai-nurse-version of Brian McNamee greeted my backside with a steroid injection. The young Thai nurse administering the shot giggled the entire time as I gave a little yelp at the pain of the unexpected pinch. Maybe she had never seen someone ask three times to ensure that the shot didn’t include penicillin, which is the only thing I am devastatingly allergic to. Perhaps it was just the fact that no rear end as white as the full moon which they celebrate monthly has ever been exposed in that hospital. Either way, it was amusingly unprofessional.

I slept in for the next 18 hours while Jeff and Steve spent the day at the beach. After awakening from hibernation and feeling a hundred times better, I found Jeff and Steve and we headed to the local stadium to watch a Muay Thai boxing match. Muay Thai is the national sport of Thailand and is basically their version of mixed martial arts. Blood is often spilled before each fight is over, usually by knockout. We sat ringside among the rowdy island people who bet on every match. In one, Jeff bet on the clear blue corner favorite against a mustached local and, as the local betting population got rowdier, we were all, Jeff included, relieved when Jeff's fighter didn't win.

Every night there are also "Special Fights" which may include such matches as young children, Little People and a blindfolded free-for-all with many contestants. On our night they had a match between two girls and a match between a local champion and a British guy named Tim. Tim didn’t do so well.

While the bathroom attendants in Cambodia gave a very awkward yet relaxing shoulder massage while we stood at the urinals, the bathroom attendants at Chaweng Beach Stadium on Koh Samui, Thailand took it to the extreme. Lang had strained his neck badly while kayaking the previous day and had spent the past 36 hours complaining that he “couldn’t turn left”. Despite many stretches and painkillers, it was a struggle for him tilt his head upward to watch the boxing matches. He returned from the bathroom midway through the third match of the night with a huge grin on his face, saying “that easily had a 30% chance of paralyzing me for life, but I feel great now!”

While relieving yourself in the co-ed bathroom in Chaweng Beach Stadium, a warm towel is applied to the back of your neck. Afterward, while at the sink, a cold towel is rubbed over your face, arms, chest, and back. Then a full on chiropractic treatment is given as the bathroom attendants (who I am sure have completed extensive years of chiropractic schooling), realign your neck, back and shoulders with some of the loudest cracks you’ll ever hear. They topped it off by cracking your earlobes—who knew?

Well rested from our island retreat, we are off to a two day adventure tour in the Northern Thailand jungle in the mountains of Chiang Mai. The tour includes white water rafting, rainforest canopy zip lining, elephant riding, waterfall scaling, hiking, and exploring a wild tiger kingdom. Stick with us as we head toward the final stretch of our trip.

How 'Bout That Ride In?

We spent many long nights planning this trip together. Our journey was built from scratch, so we were responsible for arranging every flight, hotel, and tour. Over the course of our planning process not everything was easy to figure out, and we did not agree on every plan, but the most contentious of all issues was our means of travel from Siem Reap to Bangkok. We ultimately decided in favor of a bus ride.

The drive from Siem Reap to Bangkok is long. But it’s not the length of the bus trip that concerned us. We flew 16 hours to Hong Kong, so we can handle a long bus ride. The issue with this bus ride is that it’s indefinitely long. As in anywhere from 5 to 12 hours. The roads are not well kept, and traffic flows in six directions, but the real kicker is getting through customs at the Thai border. Our research told us that crossing the border could take anywhere from 5 minutes to 4 hours, depending on factors ranging from the volume of passer-throughs to the mood of the Thai customs officials.

Thankfully, we were in great hands with our guide Mr. T for the entirety of our stay in Cambodia. T and his driver were with us nearly every hour of the day. They accompanied us to every site and meal, and recommended what we do in the night time. So when Mr. T told us that he had arranged for our transportation to Bangkok, we were relieved of our worries. When he told us that our bus would have air conditioning and TV’s, you could even say we were excited.

On our last morning in Siem Reap, we visited a house with a crocodile pit in the backyard, took a boat ride down Tonle Sap Lake and rode horses through the rice fields of the countryside, before hurrying back to the hotel to shower, pack, and board the bus (all before noon!).

No safety rails.

T dropped us at the transit stop and helped us board a small, dingy “shuttle bus,” which was to take us to our glorious Korean TV bus. T told us that the Korean bus would take us on a two-hour ride to the Thai border where we would switch to a different bus with the rest of the passengers. We were all full of that child-like curious energy you rarely get to experience as an adult. Would the bus’s HDTVs have satellite reception? If there’s WiFi, will they give us the password? Surely the seats recline into beds, but will there be masseuses?

As the shuttle bus drove around to pick up the other passengers and the stack of bags next to Steve’s feet grew taller, our worries grew as well. Mostly because this was just like our shuttle bus to Ha Long Bay earlier in the week, only the exact opposite. That bus stopped at some of the most luxurious hotels in Hanoi. I’m pretty sure that the South African family who hopped on board had royal bloodlines. The only South Africans on this bus were stoned out of their minds and smelled like they hadn’t showered since last Wednesday. Their filthy backpacks crushed our luggage, shattering my six new pairs of fake Ray Bans.

*In Bangkok we saw these guys in our hotel lobby, then they ate dinner three tables from us in the same restaurant, then the next morning they walked into our hotel as we walked out. Same clothes every time.

And then a funny thing happened. That dingy shuttle bus never took us to Disneyland. This was our ride. No TV’s or masseuses. My excitement turned to feelings of anger, so I channeled those feelings into sarcasm and began writing this blog. At this point I was only curious about things like, “Is this bag going to tumble down and kill me while I am sleeping? And, “Can a bus give me HIV?” Never mind that this van had just 16 seats, all 20 of us squeezed together and made way for the Thai border. We did not hold hands and sing We Are the World.

An hour into the ride, after Steve and Jeff fell asleep facing each other with their heads six inches apart, the two French ladies to my right shrieked in horror. Apparently there was a mouse (Mickey?) on board. When we stopped for a bathroom break ten minutes shy of the Thai border, a tattooed man who looked like a cross between Jeff Bridges in True Grit and Jeff Bridges in Crazy Heart told the bus driver “here is good,” grabbed his belongings and disappeared into the countryside. He was wearing a cowboy hat, sunglasses, and a washed out pair of jean shorts and hadn’t said a word the entire trip. I just hope that whatever criminal charges he was fleeing were not of the violent nature.

When we arrived at the border we were pretty confused, but followed what seemed to be the natural flow of things. It only took about 20 minutes to cross into Thailand, where, as promised, a man was waiting to receive us and the rest of the passengers from the first bus ride. After waiting for 20 minutes, we packed our bags into the back of a pickup truck and headed down the road to meet our next bus. Steve, Jeff, and I sat in the bed of the truck. We stopped at a restaurant, where a dispatcher greeted us and sent off the first dozen passengers in a luxurious van. The dispatcher told us that we would have to wait for the last two passengers to arrive, but would leave in 30 minutes.

Unbeknownst to the dispathcher, one of the other passengers we were waiting on was stuck in customs because she did not have a visa to cross into Thailand. Jeff and I grew impatient trying to explain the situation, and our interaction with the dispatcher went something like this:

Us: “Sir, we were right in front of her in line. She can’t get across without a visa. The other group left already. First you told us to we’d leave in 30 minutes, now it’s been almost an hour. How long are you planning to wait?”

Dispatcher: (Brandishing gun) “Everything okay friend. We wait, we wait. She pay too, we not leave her behind.”

Us: “Whoa, whoa!”

Dispatcher: “Ohh, this is toy.” (knocks on gun, showing that it’s made of plastic).

At 5:15pm, a van finally pulled up to take us to Bangkok. Instead of the couple we had been waiting for, four random Thai girls piled into the back row of seats to fill out our travel party. This van was actually pretty comfortable, but the driver was insane. Steve sat shotgun and saw the speedometer top out at 145km/hr (90mph, I looked it up). We felt like we were on a rollercoaster. I expected a flashing sign reading New Record to pop out. (Heeeeere weeeee goooo, its craaaaaaazy taxi!) But we survived the five hour drive and checked into our hotel at 10:15 p.m., 11 hours after our departure.

The problems that we had with our Bangkok hotel went way beyond standard language barrier issues. I could write a long-winded explanation but I worry it would come off as spiteful or whiny and that's not what this space is for. That's why we have TripAdvisor. Just don't stay at the Dang Derm Inn on Khaosan Road and we’ll call it even.

Yesterday we spent 4 hours with our guy Raj at R+R Apparel picking out custom suits and learning about the fabric industry. The experience was a lot of fun, and if the suits look good we’ll each be able to say “I have a suit guy.”

Last night was pretty low key, we just ordered virgin daquiris and watched a movie in our hotel room. Steve drank two! The sugar influx really had him bouncing off the walls. Just kidding, but what happens in Bangkok...

After a sound night’s sleep (about 20 minutes), we left our hotel at 4:30am to fly to the beautiful island of Koh Samui for a vacation from our vacation. The cab ride to the Bangkok airport took 45 minutes, the flight to Surat Thani took an hour, the cab ride to the Surat Thani ferry took 45 minutes, the ferry to Koh Samui took another hour, and we arrived at our hotel around noon. That might not add up to 7 and a half hours of travel but I would not know which part to adjust because we literally slept the entire way.

The beaches here are incredible so it was well worth the journey. Stay tuned for updates.

Cue closing credits...

Siem Reap: Legends of the Hidden Temple

Truthfully, I didn’t know Cambodia was a country until a few weeks ago. Considering Kansas does not teach evolution, this shouldn't come as a huge surprise. Cambodia is a land filled with thousand-year-old temples, hidden trails, Buddhist and Hindu monasteries, rice paddies, tuk tuks and fake Ray Bans. The country’s treasures have been remarkably well preserved over the past thousand years, even against the backdrop of war and genocide.

On Saturday, we landed in Siem Reap airport, which was the second smallest airport I’ve ever been in, right behind Laos’ (our layover stop). In order to gain access to Cambodia and Vietnam, you just arrange for visas through very credible websites such as SmileTravelVietnam.com and LuckyVietnamVisa.com. As it turned out, Cambodian customs was a synch because, although this was the only country where we had to declare our belongings and cash, the customs officer was off for the day. To be fair, it was the weekend.

Up until now, we’ve enjoyed a relatively causal, carefree touring schedule. Cambodia was different. My friend Eric had put us in touch with a guide named Mr. T a few weeks ago, and with T we arranged for an action-packed four day tour. We seem to have a knack for finding guides with one letter names. T was waiting for the three of us at the airport with a 12 passenger air conditioned Shag-Mobile.

Our first stop was the 9th century Rolous Group temple site, where we saw three Hindu temples: Lolei, Preah Ko and Bakong. Kings commissioned the construction of nearly every one of the 300 temples in the Angkor area and the 4,000 temples in Cambodia to honor the legacies of themselves and their ancestors. Each temple offers a unique architectural design, with meticulous attention to detail and well preserved carvings.

Interestingly, although the Buddhist and Hindu temples were created during a period of mutual respect and understanding, in the 11^th century, a Hindu king decreed the destruction of all Buddha statues in the Angkor area. So nearly every Buddha statue and carving in these temples – and there are thousands – has been removed or defaced in some manner.

On Day 2, we visited Angkor Thom, the ancient capital city of the Khmer Empire, where we saw Bayon, Baphoun, Terrace of the Elephants, Terrace of the Leper King, Rhimeanakas and the Royal Enclosing Wall. After lunch, we visited the jungle temple of Ta Prohm. In Ta Prohm, towering trees literally grow from the tops of the temple stones.

With all of the temples starting to blend together, it was time for a change of pace, so T arranged for us to do an ATV tour through the Cambodian countryside. Upon our arrival at Cambodia Quad Adventure, a French man (Cambodia was a French colony until 1953) walked us through the basics on how to operate an ATV, and then to confirm our driving competence, we each went on a short tandem ride with a guide aboard the back of the vehicle. This wasn’t a test per se, simply a way for us to get accustomed to the ATV before the tour. That didn’t stop Cymerman from failing (he had some trouble steering his ATV, which took him all of 15 seconds to figure out once we left the compound for the tour). His penalty? One Cambodian riding partner. With a man holding his waste for the entirety of our two hour ATV ride, Steve bonded with his new friend like son with father. As they glided through the open air of the countryside, Steve and his best friend contemplated contemporary issues such as bumps in the road, water buffalo prevalence and steering techniques. During breaks, Steve’s companion unhooked his helmet, fed him water and massaged his back while he urinated (not true, but the bathroom attendants do that here. It’s incredibly uncomfortable).

During our ride we stopped at an orphanage and met Nek. Nek is an extremely intelligent 10-year-old orphan, fluent in English and Cambodian and learning Mandarin and Japanese. Lang thought about adopting him Angelina Jolie-style, but instead settled on a donation. Together, we think we may have fed the orphanage for a month. Nek showed us around his orphanage/school, which is how we came across their reading comprehension passage for the week, a multiple choice exam on Justin Bieber. I learned that Justin Bieber is a good role model because (A) he has a 4.0 GPA and wants to go to college and not because (C) He is friends with Usher and dresses really nice or (D) he only cares about money and fame. And never to say never.

During our ride, we passed by many houses, temples and locals. For whatever reason, the little kids here love ATVs so much so that when they hear the bikes coming, they sprint from their homes to the side of the road, to wave and flash peace signs. Naked babies included. Our responsive waving became so natural that we also waved at passing chickens, water buffalo, motorcyclists and rice paddies. Steve’s co-rider was in on the waving, too. Which reminds me… did I mention that Steve failed his ATV driving test and had to ride with a guide on the back of his seat?

After our tour, T brought us to an area where hundreds of monkeys freely roam and accept food from tourists. Or so we thought. After enjoying my time feeding some well-behaved friendly monkeys, I was chased back to the van by a violent one-eyed monkey who had no interest in bananas. Sorry I’m not sorry.

That night, we went to Pub Street for an authentic Khmer meal and chowed down on some grilled Frog. The first frog was delicious, so at $1 a pop we ordered some more. But after once again running the highest tab this restaurant has ever seen (no more than $10 a person), a few frogs lived to see another meal, as the restaurant forgot to bring out the extras.

After dinner, we headed to the night market and engaged in some lively conversation with locals. To clarify, conversation between Americans and Cambodians is very simple. They, and this applies from everyone to little kids and sales people to masseuses, speak Khmer and their English is limited to the following words: I love you, handsome, same same, beautiful. Popular phrases include “No beautiful, no boyfriend,” “are you married? Marry me” and “you buy from me, my name is Angelina Jolie, I over there.”

What better way to relax after a large meal than a foot massage? Massages are everywhere here and masseuses vary in skill. At these ubiquitous foot massage stations, you sit down with your feet in the water as hundreds of tiny fish literally eat the dead skin off your feet. It sounds as disgusting as it felt, but the Cambodians assured us that it’s good for your feet and makes them “smooth as baby bottom.” I was flattered, however, that the fish seemed to stay away from my feet for the most part. After some post-massage research we realized that maybe it’s better to stick to (un)trained masseuses as the fish-massage practice is banned in 14 US states.

Yesterday morning we woke up at 4am to watch the sun rise over the magnificent Angkor Wat. This was the earliest I’ve ever woken up for anything other than traveling or pledging, but it was totally worth it. Angkor Wat is the world’s largest religious building and biggest tourist attraction in Cambodia. It was built in the 12^th century as a Hindu temple and then turned Buddhist centuries later.

While exploring Angkor Wat with T, we learned about the recent history of Cambodia. T himself is a walking history book, as he survived the reign of the evil Pol Pot, who terrorized Cambodia during the Khmer Rouge’s reign (1975-1979) by murdering more than 2 million Cambodians (the population was 8 million). During that period, T spent two years living with his family and other Cambodian refugees at Angkor Wat. As he put it, they were “chickens in a cage waiting to be eaten.” In 1979, the Khmer Rouge were forced from power and retreated to the Cambodian jungle, where they continued to terrorize the country until Pol Pot’s death in 1998.

After our history lesson, I put my PennQuest skills to work as we hiked to a waterfall and jungle where a riverbed contains incredible underwater sculptures of ancient Gods and Linga and Yoni symbols. If you were wondering, those are sexual symbols. Much of the ancient history of these places involves sexuality. For example, the Kings, considered Gods, had 2,000 concubines ready for them at all times. I have learned many wilderness survival skills through PennQuest, but I think our instructors must have glossed over the “what to do if you’re walking in a dense jungle that was filled with landmines no more than 14 years ago.” We survived, but were tempted to explore more explosives later that afternoon at the shooting range.

After visiting a smaller temple named Banteay Srei , we could think of no better way to cap off our afternoon than to drive our Shag-Mobile into the heart of a Cambodian military base and fire an M80 machine gun. Larger and more powerful than an M16 (a common US Military weapon), the M80 is, frankly, scary. We were greeted at a hut filled with all sorts of guns, including five foot long rocket launchers (apparently in Phnom Phen, Cambodia, you can pay $350 to launch one of these at a cow). Riding ATVs in Cambodia requires signing a waiver, shooting deadly automatic weapons does not. #ThingsThatDontHappenInAmerica.

Cymerman took the first 20 shots while our cameraman, a non-English speaking Cambodian solider, took pictures of him. Lang and I were standing 10 feet behind him, holding onto our ear muffs and clinging to the the door of the indoor shooting room. I was next up. After my first shot, I could feel the sheer power of the gun recoil against my body. Two bullets deep, I couldn’t wait to be done with the other 18 and never have to touch one of these things again. After posing for a picture at what we realized was a fully loaded stationary machine gun setup, we casually exited the facility as stealthily as this guy.

Last night we took the Tigres Papier Cooking Class. We were expecting a one hour cooking tutorial, not a five hour master feast production, but it couldn’t have been any more enjoyable. Although our class was quite diverse (two Oregonians, a New Zealander, two Australians and the three of us), we were united by our love for Angkor beer ($.50 per pint).

We ventured to the markets together to buy ingredients for our dishes and try fried crickets (Lang went first and confirmed that they taste like potato chips then did his part to control the cricket population by eating about 20 more). Together, our group cooked eight main courses, salads, spring rolls and dessert (which was terrible, and I was the scapegoat). The chicken, flavored with traditional Khmer spices, was the most delicious chicken I have ever eaten.

This morning, we’re off to see the boat village and then take a horseback ride around the country side. Afterward, we make our way to Bangkok for what we have been informed is anywhere between a 5 to 12 hour bus ride. Stay tuned for our account of the trip.

Thanks for reading and as always let us know!

P.S. If you’re traveling to Cambodia, contact T, his email is thyangkor@yahoo.com.

Things that don't happen in America, continued...

After a four hour flight delay due to the typhoon and pit stop in Laos, we made it to Siem Reap, Cambodia.

The only picture we took in our 30 minute stay in Laos.

A little behind on posting, but only because our days have been a lot more extreme. Highlights include ancient ruins, ATV rides, monkeys, live grenades and a fish foot massage. Much more to come about our Cambodian adventure later.

As promised, here are some videos:

Spaniards mocking us with an apparently cross-cultural childhood chicken noise until we jumped off the deck into Ha Long Bay.

Singing "We are the World" at a Karaoke bar in Hanoi, Vietnam with Northern Vietnamese youth and our favorite tour guide Duyen.

Monkeys playing on the side of the road in Siem Reap, Cambodia. They came and took bananas out of our hands. The locals laughed at me for peeling the bananas for the monkeys-- evidently they can do so themselves.

Every Now And Duyen I Fall Apart

“If you wrote this in a script and tried to sell it to a group of Hollywood producers, they would turn you away because no one would believe it could happen.” –Joe Buck

How many times have you watched the end of a sporting event and heard an announcer make some version of the previous statement. It’s a cliché used so often that it’s clearly not true. Well right now I know how the announcers feel. I have to document the undocumentable and write a you can’t make this stuff up kind of story. I’ll do my best.

Two hundred and fifty thousand years ago, somewhere not too far off the coast of Madagascar, a butterfly probably flapped its wings. At that moment, the world’s rotation was ever so slightly skewed, and the future of mankind was permanently altered. If only that butterfly could have flown into our private room at a Vietnamese karaoke bar last night to see Steve and Jeff alternating between the male and female verses of Summer Nights while a group of Vietnamese university students tapped their feet and waved their arms in unison. How did we get here???

You must remember that on our first day in Hanoi we registered for a tour service called Hanoi Free Tour Guides. We had such a great time with our guide Duyen (Z) that she invited us to go out with her and a group of friends last night. At 5:00pm we took a short cab ride to meet Z outside of her university’s gates, where she greeted us with a group of 10 friends. In Vietnam the days start and end much earlier, so this was a normal time to go out. Z led us next door to a karaoke bar, and I ran down the block to buy some water. When I returned about 5 minutes later, everyone had disappeared except Steve, who was waiting for me outside of the bar.

“I came outside because otherwise there was no way you would find us. I can't wait for your reaction when you see this room”

I guess I have never actually been to a karaoke bar in America, but I imagine it to look like any other bar, except with a karaoke machine in the front, maybe sitting next to a small stage. To picture a karaoke bar in Vietnam, think about the private room you used to serve cake when you had your 2nd grade birthday party at the Discovery Zone. Or just look at the photo.

When we sat down, a waiter delivered song request forms. Almost every American song was listed as Artist Unknown because as Z’s friend informed us, “we just don’t know.” It would be too difficult to pick out the best moments of the night, but highlights included Steve trying to sing songs in a language he can neither speak nor read, Jeff and Z’s inspiring performance of Britney Spears’ “Oops! I did it again,” and a heartwarming rendition of “We Are the World.” The latter was actually pretty cool, when you consider that when our parents were our age, the Vietnam War had just ended, and the idea of American and Vietnamese youth singing together in a karaoke bar was (even more) unthinkable.

After eating an obscene amount of potato chips and outdrinking our counterparts by a margin of about 7 to 1, we went with Z and her roommate to grab some Pho and wrapped up the evening by 9pm. Z’s friends were hospitable, friendly, and fun, and we thank them for our most memorable night of the trip thus far

We have encountered many great people on this trip. Before meeting Z, we spent the day with Zach, who we had met on our Ha Long Bay cruise. Zach has lived in Beijing since graduating college and is preparing to return to America for law school in the fall. With him, we toured the Hanoi Hilton and ate an enormous lunch, before parting ways so that we could travel outside of Hanoi for a tour of the snake village.

Either the snake village was inspired by a low budget 1970s horror film, or a low budget 1970s horror film was inspired by the snake village. It’s a classic chicken-egg argument. Either way, this place was CREEPY. Before traveling to Hanoi, I had read about a local drink made of snake bile, snake blood, and a still-beating snake heart. Steve really wanted to find this beverage, so after asking around, we were pointed to a remote waterfront village on the outskirts of Hanoi where snake serves as the only food, garment, and currency. Just kidding about garment and currency. Anyway, with the Jaws soundtrack playing softly in the background, we drove down the highway, over a bridge, through a maze of alleyways, and pulled to a stop at a floating restaurant.

A hostess greeted us at the entrance and pointed us to a cage of slithering snakes, adjacent to some of the most pathetic looking ducks and hedgehogs you’ll ever lay your eyes on. The poor things knew they were someone’s dinner. We seriously contemplated ordering a snake, but we had just eaten lunch and the price of bile drink and grilled snake was just high enough… okay we chickened out. But we did watch a snake get brutally murdered. A butcher grabbed a feisty snake out of its cage, mouth wide open and fangs flashing, and we scattered 30 feet in about 6 different directions (our taxi driver ran too). The butcher took the snake into a small room and bashed its head into the concrete, killing it instantly, then sliced it open with a knife to rip out its insides. #thingsthatdonthappeninamerica. After the villagers realized we wouldn’t be ordering, they sent us on our way back to Hanoi. We were just happy to make it out alive. What a day.

Right now we are sitting in the Hanoi airport awaiting our flight to Siem Reap and ready to begin our four day tour of Cambodia. Thank you for reading and let us know.