Killing Fields & S.21 - Pnomh Penh Cambodia

We´re in Berlin and it is soooo dope. The city is literal Eden for electronica. The music everywhere is insnane... the best minimal house and techno and funky cutting edge. Yesterday we did a bunch of touristy stuff, like see the wall, the famous gate, some crazy memorials, the hotel where Michael Jackson held the baby out the window, the location of Hitler´s bunker. Last night, the 1st bar outdoors and covered in Graffiti, and a belligerent German guy dressed in fireman garb got wild with flame throwers. Tonight we`re lucky enough to party with a local girl whose got her fingers deep in the local music biz. YES.


**Click on a photo to see a bigger version. Make sure you can read the signs in the photos.**

Close friend/ pseudo-sister Jen Sciacqua met up with us on February 27. Prior to the trip, she, like us, had never really ventured outside the country. She was a little apprehensive to explore a place like Cambodia. Brad & I remember that fluttery angst well. It just so happened that on her 1st day, the best use of our time was to visit 2 of the most horrific museums in the world: S.21 prison & Killing Fields. Welcome to the world.

**There was a genocide in Cambodia from 1975-78. An man named Pol Pot came to power & sought a self-sustained Agrarian country, an obscene version of communism, literal stone-age. His political party had many names, but the most common is Kemer Rouge. Pot separated families and outlawed their important tradition of eating together. He systematically tortured millions of all ages, races, and genders, targeting anyone educated whatsoever, had any contact with Vietnamese, spoke another language, was not impoverished, wore glasses!? etcetera. He transformed the country's largest high school (consisting of 4 x 4-story buildings) into a prison-death-camp. It's called S.21 and located in the capital city, Phnom Penh. Dozens of mass graves were found in the '80s. The biggest was from S.21, and located in the outskirts of Pnom Penh, dubbed The Killing Fields**

Jen arrives from the airport glowing but burnt from the sleepless 22 hour trip. It's 10am—big warm hugs and the 3 of us move into our hotel room. We walk down narrow metal stairs to the street. Bradon begins the haggling circus & scores an all-day Tuk-Tuk (SE Asian moto-taxi) for 8 bucks. Nice. We arrive The Killing Fields, bouncing through the entrance, stop then exit onto dead grass. The sun is now at noon.



Strangeness in the dust. Smiling feels wrong and my cheeks strangle. We slowly buy tickets. We walk toward a 60-foot tower—continuous windows crawl up all 4 sides to a pyramid roof of golden horns. We squint through the windows...the tower is filled with skulls, human skulls, 1000s of them, some in tact and others cracked, others with bullet holes, stacked on shelf after shelf. My mouth and eyes relax, my body aches, my naive heart squeezes. The front door is open.

We stand in front hearing recorded twing-twang music, instruments melancholy slow and drawn-out, over which crying vocals scant (imagine the sputtered hymns of a frail mother mourning her murdered child). It's all big and deep and creeps into OUR skulls. We stand there gripping incense and flowers, praying, paying respect. Then I realize a constant breeze, and hear children playing nearby.



I leave the Jen and Brad at the memorial. In the distance I see a chain-link fence. It stretches out far behind the memorial. I cannot see where it ends. Along its edge, outside the park, young local boys play like boys will—shows of bravado, shoves and punches, and behind them (surrounding the whole Killing Fields) is a vast, sun-scorched rice farm.

I crouch behind a tree and take candid photos of the kids, but they notice me and start posing funny, so I take a few more. Then I approach them. When I'm close (dang the rice farm is reeeally decrepit) they stretch their arms through the fence begging, whining. I see the grease in their hair, their crusty nostrils and dusty foreheads; some clasp their hands prayer-like. I can't help but shell out 3 dollars but they don't stop begging. Can't afford to save the world. I continue along a trail which runs parallel to the fence. I pass by countless half-sphere holes, each at least 20ft in diameter, obvious mass graves. Then I come to a large, still lake, which marks the back of The Killing Fields. Haunting.



I walk the lake's edge and 1 boy follows from behind the fence “Pleeease-low. Monee-low. I have no fooood-low. I have no peellow-low. No penseel-low. Pleease monee-lowwww” and he follows me crying these things over and over until after 15 minutes of walking I break and fork something over. Another boy runs right up and the routine repeats, but now I've finished the trail. I can see the memorial. I walk toward the interior, away from the sad kids.

I weave between more mass graves. There's a tree with human bones around its roots. Stop, look down. A canine is beside my shoe.




We arrive S.21. I walk inside a cell. On the wall is a life-size photo of someone killed by electric torture. Blood drips from the cringing corpse, like oil. My heart vices in vomit. My every muscle and my every fiber of my every ligament shudders. Indigestion boils so I seek refuge in the sun, but my familiar star's without reassurance. Instead it shouts sourness inside me, and I'm blanketed in horrid nostalgia: I feel the power of mad spirits yelling at me, and yet, these ghastly phantasms are arm-locked with innocence; I concurrently feel the good souls of the murdered, the hundreds upon thousands of good people victimized in the sad despot insanity.
It's overwhelming.

rules for the prisoners


Eventually, you walk into another 4-story building. The bottom floor is 1 single hall. Large boards fill it, on which countless mugshots are plastered... men, women, children, elders, many with bruised brows, swollen cheeks and ears, matted hair. But it's their eyes that haunt you the most. In every shot the inmate looks directly into the camera, expressions of confused terror, or pure animosity. Even more, you know portrait paintings where the subject's eyes follow you? Most are like that. A horrific gauntlet.


You walk toward another building. The breezeways are wrapped with barb wire. A sign explains that all 4 buildings were once like this. It prevented inmates from jumping. It prevented suicides. Now inside a room. Shabby brick walls divide it into smaller cells, individual holding cells. You walk in one and see chains mortared in the brick. Another cell has a battery on the ground, clearly once used for electric torture.

We've all felt deeply disturbed by something, disturbed to the point of confusion. When you're young and naively exist in a fog of innocence, true-evil is a fairytale. Then 1 day you experience something inherently wrong, something totally faux pas to you, and life becomes understood on a much truer level. Jen, Brad, and I began the day abreast; we ended it wide-eye hunched over.

Saigon

Saigon, aka Ho Chi Minh City, was one big reunion! We ended up meeting back with 3 guys from Tazmania, 4 girls from Australia and 1 girl from Los Angeles, all of whom we had met somewhere along the line while traveling in Vietnam. We even met up with 2 guys from SDSU, one of which was teaching English there. Generally reunions mean rejoicing and lots of partying, this held true in Saigon no doubt!

Night 1- It turns out to be the Tazmanian's last night of their 4 month journey around Southeast Asia and naturally we feel obliged to send them off with a bang. We call our friend Ben who is teaching in Saigon, he tells us he is down to go out and he knows some cool clubs to go to. The pre-party takes place at the Tazzy boys hotel. It gets out of hand as they are not holding out by any means on their last night and we cant be downers so we of course join in on the chaos.



Preparty with the boys from Tazzy

To make a long story short, our night consisted of the following: going to a club infested with lady boys and middle-aged white men all over them, then heading to another not because we werent having fun, but more so because we were scared and disgusted at what we had witnessed. We went to another bar near our hotel and saw the Tazzy boys off around 3am as they had an early flight to catch back home. Everyone else went their separate ways and I go to the convenient store for some water. Completely randomly I see my Australian friend Phoebe whom I met in Hanoi and spent a good week or so with traveling! She is teaching English in Saigon and only has a few weeks left so she too in going out with a bang as well.

Its nearly 4am; we end up having beers on a stairwell until 6am and in that time her Vietnamese friend Huong and some random New Zealander with the biggest hair ever join us. Im extremely hungry at this point and ask if anyone is up for breakfast. We cruise across the street to a bar that serves breakfast and have some baguettes and eggs while the Cher-obsessed bar tender blasts that awful attempt at a comeback, “Do you believe in love?”.



Phoebe and I deciding what to order...6am

Biggest Hair ever!!!

Huong blurts out that she has some Mandarine Vodka at her apartment and invites us to go drink some with her. I look outside, the sun is beginning to rise, people are beginning their days; my night has not ended. I figure Im already in the red, may as well see how far this train goes right? Its kinda like when you wake up really late, think about how you have wasted your day and how much you suck; then go right back to sleep...haha!

We spill into the streets, shading our eyes like drunken vampires. Head down the adjacent street and walk a few blocks to Huong's apartment. The door creaks open as her sleeping cousins wiggle around on the floor which they sleep on. We tip toe to the balcony which doubles as the kitchen...weird. Huong whips up the interesting cocktail of apple juice and Mandarin vodka for us...there is nothing like a cocktail at 7am in Saigon let me tell you!

Absolute Manadarin and Apple juice on Huongs Balcony

Our delirious minds create the most random/hilarious conversation topics ever. We laugh for hours until our stomachs hurt and our livers cry; all the while watching the streets of Saigon come alive. 9am rolls around and Phoebe and I decide to call it quits. We thank Huong for the unexpectedly amazing morning at her apartment and for the delicious cocktails. I walk Phoebe back to her apartment and we end up talking on her door step for another two hours about lord knows what. 11 am rears its ugly head and I realize its an hour until noon! I say my farwells to Phoebe, try to orient myself in the city and head home. On the way I cant help but have a huge grin on my face. I cant really pinpoint what exactly made the night/morning so great and memorable, but it just was. I will never hear the phrase “Good Morning Vietnam!”, the same ever again.

We also went to the Cu Chi tunnels that were used by the Vietnamese during the war. It was an incredible experience being in these tiny tunnels that the Vietcong lived, breathed and fought from. Here is a little Wikipedia exert for ya on the tunnels...

The tunnels of Củ Chi are an immense network of connecting underground tunnels located in the Củ Chi district of Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon), Vietnam, and are part of a much larger network of tunnels that underlie much of the country. The Củ Chi tunnels were the location of several military campaigns during the Vietnam War, and were the Viet Cong's base of operations for the Tết Offensive in 1968.

The tunnels were used by Viet Cong guerrillas as hiding spots during combat, as well as serving as communication and supply routes, hospitals, food and weapon caches and living quarters for numerous guerrilla fighters. The role of the tunnel systems should not be underestimated in its importance to the Viet Cong in resisting American operations and protracting the war, eventually persuading the weary Americans into withdrawal.

And now some pictures...


Inside the tunnels!!!



The Vietcong would hide these traps with leaves and such and the enemy would fall right into them unknowingly

Alice trying to fit into one of the secret holes the Vietcong used to pop out of

Bradon's last night- Two of the girls, Rumi + Lizzie, and I were the only ones up for going out for drinks. We headed for GO2 bar just down the street from our hotel, where we met Phoebe and Huong, whom I had called earlier in the day to invite out. It was 2 for 1 drinks on the rooftop so naturally we couldnt resist. We were having a great time until the rats decided to join the party around 2am. They were absolutely massive and were scurrying around like they owned the joint! Turns out Rumi is EXTREMELY scared of rats, so she had to get out of their, Lizzie was tired so they walked home together.

That left the morning crew from the other night, minus the random New Zealand guy. We head downstairs to the street corner, share a few more drinks, while onlooking at the chaos of Saigon. Huong begins to fade around 4am, so we walk her home. She does have work in the morning, so it was a valiant effort on her part indeed. As we walk back to the bar, Phoebe comes up with the idea to grab some beers, head to the nearby park and watch the apparently hilarious Vietnamese people do their morning exercises. She has a great sense of humor so I know it will be funny; within 30 minutes we are on a park bench, eagerly awaiting the morning exercisers, beers in hand.

They begin to enter the park from all angles; spandex, sweatband, cross-trainer laced with the latest in 1980's exercise attire. Im already amused by, but in no way was I prepared for how hilarious this morning was going to be. Here are just a few characters I witnessed that legendary morning:

Exerciser #1- An old man, probably in his 70's, dressed in all shades of white and white only. He is laying on a bench, face up, doing imaginary pushups while riding an imaginary airbike with the lower portion of his body.
Exerciser #2- A younger Vietnamese girl, leaning up against a tree for balance. She is lifting her right knee up repeadedly for a good 50 repititions at a time, then she switches it to the other leg.
Exerciser #3- A middle-aged woman wearing my personal favorite, pink spandex. She is walking laps around the park; first with her hands at her sides, then thrusting them above her head, commencing with a clap and then repeating this ridiculous action.
Exerciser #4- One of the coolest guys on the planet for sure, a 60 something year old man with sweatbands and short shorts on. This guy is whimsical let me tell you; he has realized the nonsense of working out appendages and only works out what really matters, the pelvic area! I literally watched this guy thrust his pelvic area back and forth, left to right, up and out...for a solid 30 minutes at least. My jaw was open in amazement the entire time as Phoebe and I ate it up, laughing uncontrollably. I even caught this miracle in action on video. By far one of the funniest things I have witnessed in my life...WOW!!!

These are just a few of the people, imagine this going on all around the park; everyone doing some sort of ridiculous, non strenuous exercise. Im awestruck, confused and so happy at the same time. Im convinced that this has to be one of the best free forms of entertainment in the world today without a doubt. But one thing really puzzles me; why do all these people, with exception to the walker and joggers, have to go the park to do these comical exercises? One can do imaginary pushups, ride imaginary bicycles, lift there legs repeadtedly and pelvic thrust the morning away in the comfort of their own homes. Moreover, where did these people learn these exercises? Did they see a dude in the park one day trying to get some exercise and decide to follow suite? Are there just no gyms in Saigon? These questions and more race through my beer-saturated mind as I try to make sense of what I am seeing.

All of a sudden the sound of sweet-cheesy techno music fills my ears. I look to see where it is coming from, I scan the park and see to my right about 30 or so spandex-clad Vietnamese women doing synchronized techno aerobics! Oh my lord! I didnt think this morning could get any more ridiculous or histerical, but it just did! I love house music, but the music they are exercising to is awful; its hard techno beats with what sounds like a little girl singing over it. At home no one would be able to do group workouts to this music because everyone would be bursting out in laughter. Not in Vietnam, they are digging it and in serious workout mode.

Phoebe turns to me with a devious grin on her face and asks, “Do you want to join them?”. Once again, the day has already begun, my night has yet to end. Im drinking beer in a park in Saigon...why not? We cautiously join the back of the group, take a few seconds to catch the beat and begin to mimic the exercise moves they are doing. Im not gonna lie, within 5 minutes I was into it, I kind of understand why people do group exercise now...haha! Everytime I peered over at Phoebe I had to hold in my laughter due to the hilarious circumstances we had put ourselves under. Mind you, I am the only guy in the group, Im white, Im a head taller than everyone there and to top it off Im wearing the brightest t-shirt I own, an electric teal Zoo York shirt! Im standing out like a sore thumb, while Phoebe can kind of get away with it. But I could care less, Im having a great time, lauhing all the while on the inside AND Im getting some exercise!

And man was I getting some exercise, after about 10 minutes or so I was getting extremely winded...I dont get much exercise here on the road aside from the beer/vodka curls I do all too often. Luckily for me the music ends abruptly for break time; Phoebe and I realize its our opportunity to escape so we scurry away like we stole something. I realize I have a bus to catch in about an hour. I give my biggest thanks to Phoebe for the delightfully hilarious morning that I will never forget and I make my way back to the hotel...Ill be on the Mekong Delta enroute to Cambodia in a few hours time, life is crazy!!!

Vietnam- Mui Ne

One of my favorite hip hop artists by far, I cant stop listeing to his album LOST, had to share it with yall...



Mui Ne is known as the kite-surfing mecca of SE Asia, it was news to me though that they even had kite-surfing in SE Asia, to be honest we were just there for the beach. This little beach town is a popular stop for those traveling the length of Vietnam because it serves as a nice little half time break between the pandemonium of Hanoi in the North and the chaos of Saigon in the south. Garrett and I shacked up at Bungalows that lay about 30 feet from the only bar in town, Wax Bar. Our Aussie friends, Lizzie and Alice, joined us on the 2nd day as they were stuck in the last town of Hoi An getting more clothes tailored.

With them they brought 3 fellow backpackers they met on the bus, Tom, Taz and Tim, who all happened to be from Tazmania. To this day they're the only people from Tazmania I've met. And thats not a good thing, these guys were a riot and I only wish I could meet more backpackers like them! The 5 of them all checked into the same bungalows as us and let me tell you; Us + 5 Aussies + Nearby Bar=TROUBLE!!! Needless to say we were at the bar everynight exchanging war stories about life at home, as well on the road, dancing up a storm and of course drinking excessively!

Most of the days were spent lounging on the beach and eating at our favorite restaurant down the beach a bit, where you would literally sit in the sand while you enjoy your delightful $3 meal. But on day 4 we decided to stop being lazy/hungover and take a tour and see what else Mui Ne had to offer. We started off by loading into 2 U.S. Army jeeps left from the war. I called dibs on the back seat and sitting in that seat was worth the $8 I paid for the all-day tour alone, so much fun! After a brief photo-stop at the fishing village we arrived at our first real destination. This place was pretty much just a rivine of red dirt. We were all waiting for see something cool, but it never happened. I think the people of Mui Ne just had nothing much else to show off so the red dirt rivine qualified as tourism material for lack of anything cooler.




After visiting the rivine of broken dreams and being hasseled by our 6 year old guide for tips for walking us through his shitty rivine we were off to see what else we could find. The drive to the next stop was actually quite beautiful. The coastline met the desert and we got to enjoy this clash of scenery from a genuine jeep from the Vietnam war....not bad! Next stop was yet another red dirt attraction. This was a mini-version of the Grand Canyon I guess, it was cool though.




An washboard road served as our route to the next stop on the tour. The Jeep came to a stop near a still lake, with white sanddunes providing the backdrop. Word on the streets was that you could slide down the dunes on sheets of plastic you rented from kids near the dunes, yes! I paid my hard-earned dollar after bargaining with the little men and there I had it...revenge!... I tried to slide down the dunes on Frasier Island (Australia) but failed miserably, but I was confident today would be the day I would reclaim my pride. Something in the air told me today was the day! Within a 5-minute walk I saw the massive giants I would be defacing soon enough! I haven't seen many dunes in my life so I dont have much to compare, but they were massive!


Immaculately shaped and absolutely brilliant to look at these dunes were! Some were as tall as they were deep. My mind could not help but wonder what kind of havoc skateboarders would reek on this place if the dunes were covered in cement, 'skate-heaven on Earth' no doubt! As I stared off into the the distance like a Gucci model, it hit me this was all a part of the plans of the dune; make me awstruck with their beauty and make me forget about the task at hand... revenge! You are good dunes, but not good enough! I grasped my thin sheet of plastic and B-lined it to the biggest one in sight. The walk was tiring to say the least, but I was determined! Staring down the incline was a bit intimidating but I was prepared. My 1st sleding attempt brought back relics of Frasier Islands as I hardly slid 1 foot. Embarrassed as ever I returned to the top more driven than ever! This time though I took about 5 steps back and got a running start. And just like that I was charging down the dune like a pro! aH! victory was mine and I could now call myself a man once again...finally!


Our Aussie Travel Mates, Alice and Lizzie



Alice and I making the horrible treck up the dune!

The Tazzie Boys Feeling the Deep Burn!!!





All sarcasim aside though, sliding down these dunes was extremely addictive. The feeling was so unique, I felt like a kid who just learned how to ride a bike, I just wanted to do it over and over! The only problem is that dunes are made of sand...it's science, and sand is really soft and when you walk in it your feet sink, which makes climbing up steep dunes exhausting. I could only do about 3 runs before I was on my last ounce of strength, my mind was saying more more more, but my legs had checked out of the office for the day.

As I lay lifeless on the sand, Taz points out an even bigger dune in the distance, 1 that I couldnt see from my previous vantage. This 1 was at least 3 times the size of the 1 just ridden. I thought to myself there was no way in hell I was going to do it. But now that I was a man again my ego began to get the best of me. That combined with some peer pressure was all it took; before I knew it I was at the ridge of this mammouth dune, starting down at the belly of the beast. I was genuiniely afraid of this one, but I figured how bad could sand really hurt me?


Walking to the big Kahuna!!

The first half of the ride was pretty mellow and I thought to myself “This isnt so scary!” That was until I hit a bump followed by a much steeper incline that I didnt see coming 1 bit! This was all it took to officially put me into overdrive...!#@*! I sped out of control towards the plateu that would be the end of me. Inertia took it vast anger out on me as I slammed into the sand and rolled for a good 10ft or so. I rolled over, spit out the mouth full of sand and checked for any injuries. Nothing major luckily, just a few trophy cuts and scrapes to show some lucky ladies at the bar tonight...haha! That was definitely 1 of the craziest/unique/fun things I have ever done in my life...wow!

Doin some warmup runs on the smaller stuff...