Beggars

I'm beginning to understand that no matter where I go there will always be some form of beggars, homeless and not. They were outside my front door and back in Madison while I lived on State Street. Heck, one even broke in my apartment hoping to get a warm night's rest. They were on every corner in Memphis, New York City, Seattle, London, Paris... any city in the world and you'll find the unfortunate mixed in with the lazy. It's a sad and pathetic fact. *By sad and pathetic, I mean their condition is - that its tragic in this day and age for there to still be people without basic living necessities. NOT that they themselves are sad and tragic. Some are lazy, okay, but not pathetic. Ha, yes, I think the system is!

Anyways now, I may not seem it sometimes, but I really am ridiculously sensitive to other people's suffering. I can't stand it. It bothers me to have something other people don't. It bothers me even more being unable to give that something, whether it be money, clothes, food, health, love and so on. It seems the list is endless when it comes to helping the unfortunate. And in a way it is. They need the basic necessities and really nothing more. I mean most of them would be happy just to have what we take for granted everyday.

So, my point is that while traveling throughout Vietnam - a developing country focused solely on money making; for instance it's a now you see it now you don't sort of shopping! One minute you have interest in an object, the next it's yours and you wonder when you ever took out your purse in the first place. Then traveling through Cambodia- very basic development mainly in Phnom Penh while the rest of the country sits in poverty. The only wealth coming in via tourism and very limited exportation. And lastly, traveling through Thailand, the money grubber of all South East Asia. Over half of the population lives in and around Bangkok, making it the capitalistic giant of Indochina, competing as an equal with only Singapore. Thus, while traveling through all three I had the opportunity to experience all three types of beggars.

1) The nomadic beggar-aka bum. Lives out of bag(s), uses abandoned buildings as homes, finds random work sometimes, but usually takes up street begging as it's easier and more profitable. Thus, those that choose this lifestyle over working.

2) The unfortunate beggar- aka homeless. Lives similar to nomadic beggar but can't find work because of mental or physical disability. Thus, little choice in lifestyle. There are some jobs, such as Angkor Artisans which is an art factory of sorts that employs only the disabled or there are menial, short-term jobs that have little stability. Yet, both of these are few and far between, therefore making it still difficult for the disabled in a developing country.

3) The child beggar- aka ignorant byproducts of beggars one and two. Live with no idea of another way of life. They know, much like any child knows, how to get what they want. Like the eight year old throwing a fit at the grocery store, these children know that if they beg from foreigners that they will get money. They don't know that they're continuing the cycle of poverty for their family by not going to school. These children are products of their parent's need for the basic necessities. Whether their parents are unfortunate or nomadic beggars is a mute point. They should be in school and after they should be playing as all kids should. Some may say their form of begging does not hurt anyone as any money they make helps support their family and perhaps later education. I think that's very short sighted, and that after teaching children for a year (given I'm no expert), I can only argue that education is a must for society, and that without it we are what we know, which for them is not much.

Okay, sorry- long tirade. It was just very difficult to see children as young as four in rags and dirt asking for money. And then to see the mother standing there with them urging them on. I wanted to yell at her, but knew it wasn't her, it was the government, the country, society. She obviously had no other choice than to exploit her children. And in turn her children will follow suit without question or option.

So, that was the situation I and my traveling fellows were faced with. The worst being the children, as I don't care who you are you're heart has to bleed somewhat for a four year old with no shoes and empty pockets. I did at least, and so did my companions. There was one situation while crossing the Cambodian border to Thailand that actually left us laughing. As by that time, we had had five straight days of begging and were quite tired of being rich bitches.

Crossing the Border:

There were three Australian guys of Italian ancestry on our tour. Two were cousins and the other was a good friend. They were a stitch, naturally, having an Aussie environment growing up and then Italian rich blood, they could not help but be entertaining. The one guy, Frank, was the shortest of the crew. He reminds me of a better looking Danny DeVito, actually. Just more muscle and smiley eyes. He's so easy going that you wonder if anything bothers him. And well, I think he must radiate that sweet disposition because no matter where he went, the beggars would ALWAYS go to him first. He'd look around at the rest of us with a terribly confused face and smile, then look back down at the kids with wide eyes and open hands. We'd all laugh at him and keep walking, the children then catching up with the rest of us and asking "One dollar? One dollar?" We were told not to give them anything, so as not to promote begging. So we didn't, we kept on and would buy things from the children sellers, never just give.

At the Cambodian-Thai border we had the same situation. We stood around with our bags waiting for our tour guide to finish dealing with border control, just chatting and taking in the new country. All of a sudden this girl flies- I mean literally flies- to a prayer position at Frank's feet. I don't think he even realized what she was doing at first, she flew in so fast and stealthy. He looked down then looked around at us. We're all staring at him in confusion as well.

Then the girl starts to bow up and down on her knees. Her hands touching his shoes when bowed down, then cupped when raised. She did this for about a minute with Frank trying to shoo her away. The rest of us giggling at his luck. Finally our tour guide comes, he doesn't see the girl as he's worried about getting us through the last check point. So he just walks by, Frank standing there now trying to get his stuff together to shoo the girl away. We all start to walk after our guide. Frank does so as well, and does the girl give in?

No, she starts to walk backwards still bowing and begging, bowing and begging. We're all laughing now as Frank, his eyes confused yet humorous begins to speak Italian to her. He starts making the classic hand gestures and using his foreign tongue to hopefully confuse the girl. (Most can recognize English.) We all start to laugh at the situation. I think the girl recognized this because she then continued to tap his chest, then hit his chest, then finally began to pinch his nipples! Not kidding, she honest to God began to pinch and twist at them.

Frank I think was so confused and unbelieving that the girl would procure his chest like milking utters that he only jumped back. He didn't want to react back with a push or tap, given she's just a kid. So he starts to laugh and crosses his arm across his chest hoping to derail her sharp advances. She continues to bother him until our tour guide finally notices and yells at her for bothering him. She regretfully retreats from her new play thing, and probably went into waiting for the next unsuspecting tourist with a sweet disposition.

It was then that I discovered a fourth beggar category- the dominatrix! Holy wow, I'd never have thought that of a kid, but she definitely was a tough cookie and I'm scared to think of her exploits when she grows up! Hm, okay just kidding, I'm sure she'll be fine. Just a different way of begging that's all!

Cambodia- The sellers congregated in waiting for our or any foreigner's arrival. They're not technically beggars, I know. But sometimes I did get confused!
Our first shock of the beggars and sellers of Cambodia. They honestly stuck their nose right on the bus window. They stared at us, and us at them. It made me wonder who was the monkey in the zoo. Us or them?
This was a sweet kid at the brick factory. He's about eight years old, and was first shy of the camera. Course, once he saw the result, he began to pose. The kids in the background are amazed at my friend, Chris - one of the Aussie/Italian guys.
This little girl was 12. She was selling pineapple and mango along with fifteen other children. She spoke very good English, so I began to chat with her. She was of course trying to sell me her pineapple the whole time (and I did buy some), but I had much more interest in chatting about her life. If she goes to school, what kind of house does she live in, how many siblings does she have, and so on. This is her eating a deep friend grasshopper that I was far too scared and too vegetarian to try. I told her if she ate it, then I'd take a picture- remembering her and the deep fried grasshopper for much longer than just eating the silly bug.
At the brick making factory. Our tour guide gave them each a 500 riel bill. Equivalent to 12.5 cents. Not much to us, but to them it's about 3 hours of work. Each person lives on 1 dollar a day. They live communally which then disperses the expenses. Yet, come on, it's a dollar a day. And even though the cost of living is extremely low in Cambodia, it's not that low. This was such a humbling experience for me, and anyone for that matter.

Traveling

The silly thing about traveling alone is that it's really easy to lose yourself. For me it's a good thing. I travel and I find myself lost in the dreams of sunken empires, young minds, grand buildings, sunrises and sets and whatever else I happen upon. I let it all change me, affect me. I want to feel it all and not miss a moment. This is me traveling like the cliche feather in the wind that I am, that defines me.

Others who I cling to for stability are able to withstand their surroundings like mountains. They amaze me as I brush past them on my way to see this building and that Buddha. I see them, but to me they are reference points. I look at them, understand them, then run the other way in search of something more. Near parallel with my real life, where I do the same with people I meet in my everyday. I see them, walk by and never look back. I could feel bad, but I think it's that way for everyone isn't it?

I think this is why I like traveling. While doing so it is okay to see things for a moment and then never again because that's all it is, a moment. You have it forever and yet you don't. It's there and yet it's fleeting. A snapped picture later and you wonder whether any of it happened at all.

It is then that I think the world for my camera, and then thank my camera for lasting as long as it can on wretched power sources. Without its snap I would never remember the shot, without it's flash I would never see the dark. It's amazing how we can capture an entire journey with a few photos and notes. You'd think a two week escapade would need many pages and resources to captivate. Yet, as I look through my photos one by one, as I study their outlines and faces and lighting and texture I begin to see that such a journey will be reduced to just those things, that I will never be able to relive those moments ever again. They are gone though present. They can be remembered yet forgotten. Such a silly way to view things, in photographs and words. They're terribly nondescript for the foreign eye. To me I see the laughs and jokes behind the smiles, the anger behind the frowns. I know the reason and it makes no never mind to anyone else. To me these pictures are not fleeting, they are not momentary, they are permanent in my hippocampus. Then again, they wouldn't be permanent without the picture itself. Thus, I love the picture just as I love the memory that it retains.

I have therefore picked my most favorite photos of my journey through Vietnam, Cambodia, Thailand and Malaysia. In them are my memories which I will try to describe for you.

In northern Thailand I took a 3 day trek through the jungle. The first day I and my tour group got to ride elephants! Yet as I was the only one without a 'pair', I was told to ride not on my own elephant with my own chair but on as a third person an already chair taken elephant. Thus, I got/had to ride directly on the elephant's head! So going up and down the hills for an hour was very interesting and very scary! No safety net, no handles except for the chair and couple's legs behind me. This is the top of my elephants head. His hair was surprisingly corse and scratchy through my fisherman's pants. And needless to say I don't need to experience this again. It was fun, but no, not again!
This is the first tour group I was with. The long tour of 9 days through three countries: Vietnam for two days, Cambodia for five and Thailand for two. They were a fun group and I miss them actually! It's only been a week but we felt like family. This picture is in front of Independence Monument in downtown Phnom Penh, Cambodia.
This is of S21, the famous prison and torture center for the Khmer Rouge. As an outsider it's hard to believe that such atrocities happened only a short time ago in that lovely country, but at this place it's all too real. The floors are still blood stained some thirty-odd years later. The ceilings and walls still have splatter. It's a sick display of the terror humanity can conjure, yet a necessary one. Without this place as a standing reminder to be human, I almost think human kind could easily forget. I and the others in my group were white with horror as we walked through cell after cell. I can only hope every person finds the same feelings. If not, I dare say they are not human.
I thought this man was so ironic. We were told to respect the monks because they are sacred. For women, we aren't supposed to even touch them, and men are supposed to avoid touching them. No pictures and no talking to them. Well, a monks duties usually include turning away from all material things. I thought cell phones would be on that list, but negative. This man was quite into his conversation. I like to think he's giving or receiving guidance... that or ordering a pizza.
These are the hill tribe huts that I and my second tour group stayed in. They were up quite a ways on the mountain, but worth the hike. Simple yet beautiful in their simplicity, I was happiest while laying on the bench in the sunlight listening to the wild birds coo and caw. Another favorite spot, this was the hammock on the second floor back deck of the guest house I stayed at in Chang Mai, Thailand. I loved it. I spent only one afternoon here, but would gladly have given all my souvenirs and possessions away to spend the rest of my life here.
I snapped this without cause, but now that I look at it I quite love it. I love his face, his eyes, his patriotic pose towards the setting sun. He looks beautiful to me, and reminds me of every face I saw in Cambodia, every single beautiful face.
This boat trip was spontaneous as was this picture. I like it because it shows the stillness yet motion of life on "The Lake". The Lake- it has a name I can't remember nor pronounce- is this river/lakes that turn into one gargantuan lake in monsoon season. There's great fishing there, so hundreds and thousands of families build their houses there. In the dry season the houses are on stilts, and in the wet they float. They live a stable yet rough existence. I think it's amazing and commend them for their resolve. The kids know nothing else of course, yet still they must be tough even if born so. I like the dreams they still have, the wishes in their eyes when they look to the sun. They are the same of me and any other person. It was here that I recognized humanity.
Angkor Wat at sunrise. A beautiful morning spent watching the rising sun at one of the oldest, most well preserved temples in the world. An awe inspiring event that I have no words, nor even pictures to justify its greatness.

The Cambodian Royal Palace in Phnom Penh. It was marvelous, just like every palace I ever imagined. It's beautifully manicured lawns and old menageries of brilliant green complemented the golden exterior of the palace buildings. The designs and jeweled inlays screamed royalty more than any European building I've ever seen. To me, this was the kingdom I've dreamed. Louis XIV had no idea.