Jinah!

When I was at home my mother found something of great interest, and well, of great coincidence, too. She found the contact information for a long lost friend from high school. The long lost friend being the Korean foreign exchange student I had befriended my senior year of high school. Her name was Jinah and she had been only 15 when participated in the foreign exchange program that would be a learning experience ten fold over what she’d hoped for.

Jinah was taken-in by a family that was by most standards perfect. They had a mom, a dad, two daughters and a son away at college. They had a beautiful house in town next to the hospital and cemetery (something I always thought was a convenient coincidence for those who passed on during their stay). They were also quite active in the school, running to games and activities, volunteering and talented, too. They were seemingly perfect for a foreign exchange student because they were seemingly the perfect Caucasian American family.

The whole year plays out in my mind now like a movie. The girl comes and is welcomed with open arms. She is treated like a princess for the first month maybe two. Then the novelty starts to wear off. She doesn’t speak very good English, thus there’s a lot of miscommunication. There are a lot of necessities for her, so she becomes a hassle. And finally, she says she’s not really Christian and doesn’t want to go to church. Well, we can’t have that. If she’s going to be that ungrateful, we’ll no longer help her or accept her as apart of our family. She may live under our roof for the rest of her stay, but it won’t be pleasant, she will not be happy!

And that’s my guess as to what went on behind closed doors. A scenario out of the pages of Harry Potter. She’s taken in, then told to live under the stairs. Only in this case she was accepted by choice (and it’s my guess for appearances sake, too). Then after she did not live up to their perfect expectations, she was berated for being different, for being foreign, for being herself.

I must say now that I’m quite proud of my group of friends in high school. They were kind to her, invited her places, showed her things, tried to talk with her. They tried to understand a little as to what it was like for a foreigner to come to small-ville, Wisconsin. Thus, I think she was happy for some time, even if it was only once every weekend.

Then there was how I got to know her. Jinah had joined the cross-country team for something to do after school and to meet new people. I was a senior then and on my last and final year of sports, plays, activities and so on. Needless to say, I was very busy. But as she was on the team, I tried to get to know her a bit. One of the few who was not scared to talk with her right away, she started to ask me for rides home when the weather was bad. So I of course said yeah, sure, and thus started our friendship. I tried so hard to get what I was saying across to her. I doubt whether 80 percent of it was ever understood, but I think she just liked to be talked to, to feel accepted by someone. So I kept chatting, asking her questions (sometimes miming them if she didn’t understand), and always hoping that she wasn’t bored with me and that someday she would flood our conversations with her miraculous English.

That of course never happened. She improved but was in no way talkative really. She was just sweet, with a kind disposition. She seemed to enjoy everything she came across except for the front door to the family’s house where she stayed. Thus, I liked her very much and was very sad to see her go that spring.

Six years later my mother finally opens a drawer that has been stuck shut for two years. On the top of all the junk sits a piece of paper with a name slightly forgotten, with information below it slightly inaccurate. It also happens that I am living in the same country now as the girl and as the information. I can now read it and speak enough of HER language to contact her. I also happen to be at home in Wisconsin, on an unplanned two-week leave, when my mother happens to find this all the week before. Thus, I came home and found yet another reason to go back. Like I’m meant to be living in Korea, meant to meet this girl six years ago, and then meant to find her again. Funny how life works like that, but that’s how this one happened to pan out.

Three weeks ago I tried emailing the address on the information slip. It couldn’t send, the address was non-existent. I tried looking up the apartment address on the internet, and found nothing. Then I tried calling her cell-phone, and was a different person altogether. Finally, I tried her home phone. I asked for Jinah Jang. My Korean felt oddly strong that day. I remembered how to ask where she was. So I asked. I didn’t understand the answer, but did at the same time. My guess was that she was ‘out’, but that she did live there. That this was her father and that he knew what I was asking about.

Then I realized I hadn’t tried speaking English yet, and that maybe he thought I was Korean. So I said in English, “I’ll call back.” At this the gentlemen simply when “Ahhh!”, like it was all making sense to him, like the bad Korean on the other end had some logic to it now. He just said ‘Nae, jomshimanyo’ (Yes, wait a minute.) My heart picked up a beat, was he going to get Jinah? Was she actually there?

He came back and instead was able to say in his limited English the ‘handa-phone’ number in English. I thanked him profusely then called the number he’d read for me. She picked up after only two rings. I spoke in English, she seemed confused. I tried the Korean phone etiquette’s “Yoposaeyo?” and she seemed more confused. I switched back to English and tried to explain quickly who I was. CLICK. She hung up on me. My bad, I botched that one. So, I texted her then and explained who I was and what I was doing in Korea. Not fifteen minutes later did I receive a text back with nearly all exclamation-points. She was indeed so happy to hear from me!

So we made plans for that weekend. She lives in Gwangju, about four hours south of me by train. So, I being the lover of all things new and exciting, hopped on a train for Gwangju and was accepted with open arms by her, her friends and her family. We went for tea at a university area tea café. Then did the very Korean sticker-photo booth and made memories to last as long as the adhesive does. Then onto dinner with her family at an all vegetarian buffet… turns out Jinah is vegetarian as well! After that, we ended the night in a ‘W-ii room’, a place where you can rent any game and a room for an hour for five thousand won (about $5).

The next day we went to the Bamboo Forest near Gwangju with her and her friends. It was a beautiful place, and a lovely day for a walk. So we got to walk and talk, and catch up on life over the past six years. A truly lovely experience, and one I’ll never forget.

In a couple of weeks, Jinah is planning to come to Seoul for a weekend. Hopefully, I can show her just as much hospitality as her, her family and her friends showed me. They were really much too kind to the foreigner! But gladly so, as well.

I think it's so much more romantic to carve one's initials on a bamboo tree. ^_^

A great example of the randomness of Korea. Obviously, we're in a bamboo forest, there should be panda bears!

Our meal of rice and beans in a bamboo 'cup'. Naturally, the cup is made from the bamboo of the surrounding bamboo forest. Good meal, but I could have gone for two!

Jinah and friends on our walk around the park area near the bamboo forest. They're all so cute and sweet, and obviously Korean with those poses :)

The Korean pancake appetizer/meal thing. It's kind of like an omelet with all its onions, green peppers, meat/seafood of choice and egg coverage. But the substance they use has egg and flour and salt, so like a pancake but not. Hm... difficult to explain but it's very tasty!

Jinah and friend (can never remember Korean's names if only met once) pose in the bamboo forest at a 'resting area'. Also, that's a kind of kimchi pot to the left, now also used as decoration or trash bins at cultural parks.

Jinah is left, me obviously, then the sweet couple we played wii with.

The mother of pearl peacock on the huge wardrobe in Jinah's home. She said her parents got it as a wedding present. Amazing how intricate the whole thing was!

The entire wardrobe. It's about 6 ft high and 12-13 ft long. All of the decor is done by hand, making this worth a small fortune. (About 2-3,000 dollars.)

Snowy day at school

I'm supposed to catch a flight tomorrow. I'm supposed to see my best friend in a day. I'm supposed to be reunited with my parents on Sunday. And all next week I'm supposed to travel about Wisconsin visiting friends. All these things and more I will do. Or rather, I hope I'll do.

It hasn't snowed in Korea for a month now. The fluff from the first storm in January vanished two weeks ago. The temperatures even got to the 40s. I got out my spring jacket. And the ajumas got out their hiking gear. Warm weather was nigh and we were all readying ourselves.

Then today I wake up. I throw on my spring coat and rain boots and head out to join the brown grass and gray sky with a smile saying, "You'll be green and blue soon, trust me." But while stuffing my current read in my bag I glanced up. I glanced to see white flakes resting on my boots. Melting quickly but just as soon being replaced. My eyes darted to the road, the sky, the rooftops and car hoods. White. They're all white.

At first I'm excited. I love snow. It's pure, it's cleansing, I can eat it and it warms me and cools me at the same time. I love to look at it and dream those marshmallow and chocolate castle dreams with handsome princes and talking horses. My mind goes adrift, over the mountains to ski chalets and snowball fights. I remember the fun I had during recess so long ago now. I turn into the mush beneath my feet, and I am happy.

I began to walk, I let the happiness sink in. I'm still excited and begin to purposely step in puddles with my rain boots. SHLOP SHLOP SHLOP. The muddy ice water hits my rubbers to no avail. I win this round. Next puddle. SHLOP SHLOP SHLOP. A bit makes it to my knee this time. A dark stain appears on my leggings. It's cold and I feel the chill travel up my spine. I quit for the time being. I become distracted by the sights and sounds around me.

The stoplight is green, my walk light red. I wait and rock slightly, my galoshes making smaller slurping noises as to and fro I go. The Korean lady to my right glances at me. No doubt curious about this weird foreigner gal in the heart covered rain boots. I don't look at her until she looks away. When I do I snicker to myself. She's obviously fallen into the sorry and lonesome stage of adulthood. I think this then feel a pang of pity. I want to help her find childhood again. I yearn to make her laugh.

The light changes. Mine is green. I walk. I see her veer to the right. Heels clopping and sloshing in the mush and snow covered lane. She glances my way one last time and disappears down the alley. I begin my puddle hop. Today is a good day, I think. I'm alive.

The walk continues like this. I get distracted by the everyday nuances turned magic by frozen water droplets. I marvel at everything. I'm still so excited about the day. For not only is it snowing AND the day before I leave for home, but it is also graduation day at my school. It is the sixth grader's final farewell and also my head/co-teacher's. I have her gift under my arm. I hold it close. My excitement peaks as I take me final steps towards the school, my hellos echoed by small, accented voices. I head to my room and begin my day. The lightbulb still dormant of spark. Realization not yet attained. Future travels forgotten in the instant I saw snow. I head to my desk. I await my co-teacher.

She arrives forty minutes late. Her hair soaked, her shoes emaciated. She looks tired and warm from walking. "Where have you been? Did you have car trouble?" DING. Small spark in my bliss. CAR trouble. "No, no. I didn't drive today. I took the bus." Ah, I see. The bus. Not fun, but better than nothing. "But the traffic was so horrible," she continued, "so many accidents." Hm? DING. A second spark, larger and more sustaining than the first. "Yes, you know Korea we do not get snow usually. We get a little and it is very dangerous to us." DING DING DING. We have lift off.

Dreet, shit, damn, gah! Where was my head this morning? I think. Why so delighted with pretty white stuff when the same stuff may spell your doom? Hello in there. You TRAVEL tomorrow. You are supposed to FLY, did you forget? Why are you happy with snow when it's most likely to either delay your plane for hours or cancel it all together? Where is your head?

I ran to the computer. I searched for the weather report. I found the USA Today flight website, it's lead story the record setting cancellations in Washington D.C. Shit, I think again. This is not good. It's not Chicago, but it's too close for comfort. Search: Chicago, IL. The information relays. A few delays but no major cancellations. At least for anywhere but D.C. and the northeast United States. Whew. My heart rate lowers a bit, heaves become real breaths. I was about to puke for a bit. But this website says I'm okay. It says I'll come home. I check my flight. No delays. I check Incheon airport. Few delays, no cancellations. I check the weather three times.

I'm coming home.

I hope I'm coming home.

I am right now typing this the night before my departure tomorrow morning at 11:40 AM. I need to catch a bus that should only be an hour to the airport. I'm guessing with three inches of snow, and a country incapable of clearing said snow without the suns help, that hour will turn into two. Then there's the airport with the Chinese New Year and Valentine's Day four to five day weekend. It's a scary thought, what I'll be facing tomorrow. Lines upon lines. Pushy Koreans. Stop and go traffic. Delays and ice. More ice, snow and delays. I only hope some power will hear my cries. Will see how much I need this. How important this is to me and my loved ones. I just, I just hope. I hope tomorrow goes well. I hope to see my family and friends. I hope to sit at my piano the same time next week, and then let my fingers fly. I hope to hug my friends, my mom, my dad, my grandmother. I hope to play with my little cousins. Maybe get my butt kicked in air hockey. I hear the kid's got a fierce game. I hope to see my family and be with them if only for a day. I hope my flight takes off tomorrow, I hope it lands in one piece in Chicago and I hope the connection from there to Minneapolis does the same. I hope to see you all very soon. And I hope I won't hate snow if all fails. Like I said, I hope. Just hope.

Video taken before my revelation. Notice my naivety. I should have taken one during my enlightenment. It would have been much more entertaining!

Stair cover. I pretended I was stuck beneath a glacier. Or like in the movie "The Day After Tomorrow", in a mall underneath meters of snow.

View out my classroom window. Lovely Christmas cards to brighten any day.

Window ledge.

Our poor parking lot/soccer field/track/play ground.

Was so worried about snow taking over my plane and life that I forgot to take many pictures of graduation. That was until my co-teach told me that this lovely lady is leaving our school. "Oh, you didn't know?" How am I supposed to? I really don't read minds. I was just kidding. Please let me know these things! I just about cried. This girl is the Kindergarten teacher. She is amazingly sweet and kind and loving and happy. I just love her so much, and am so sad I probably will never see her again in this lifetime.

Winter Camp 2010

Winter camp just finished last week. I'm a bit relieved and yet saddened. I loved my kids, and loved the time frame. Three hours of class every morning. A much more productive time span than the usual short 40 minute class. It was also extremely productive because of the teacher. Meaning one, one teacher. There was supposed to be a co, but she was pretty busy running around like a chicken with her head cut-off to find the time to find her head and my classroom of 20 students.

Thus, without a co, it was a fantastic display of my children's ability to understand English with ridiculous gesticulations, and not to mention a chance for me to practice those gesticulations... you know those my Norwegian ancestors have so kindly passed down to me. I often think of how lucky I am to have ingrained hand/face/body gestures. They make life as an English teacher so much easier... and entertaining! For those kids who do understand my English, they get to laugh at me explaining what "giddyup" means. And for those who don't understand my English, they catch on pretty quickly as to the meaning of my words. Especially when I start flapping my arms and screeching to mimic a goose. (I just thank God a video camera has yet to sneak it's way into the classroom!)

Anyways, Winter English Camp, a grand time of coloring, games, activities and vocabulary, we spent two weeks learning things from Christmas food, music, terms, card writing to the Winter Olympics, the book and movie "How the Grinch Stole Christmas", and also the excessively messy but fun activity of making rice krispie treats. We had sugar everywhere on food day, then a competition of the utmost difficulty (running with a ball between your knees and then with a pencil balanced between your nose and upper lip- difficult stuff) on Winter Olympics day, word competitions and the game 'dice of fortune' (like the wheel of fortune, just with a dice... yep, i was vanna and pat!) on Snow Day, and of course paper creations from cards to ornaments, to stage props for our play, to 'wish links'- a paper chain, and finally to the classic favorite, snowflakes.

Wow, I forgot how much we really did. And we had so much fun doing so, I don't really have anything else to write except that I'm glad it's over, as it was exhausting work, but also that I'm looking forward already to next summer's camp!

Some photos of the kiddies:

Excited about her rice krispie creation. Sprinkles and chocolate chips galore!

The elves decorating their treats.

Me whipping up a batch of frosting. The kids were so amazed at what powdered sugar and milk could do when mixed together!

Making a Family Wishing Tree. Each group made one 'branch' of the wishing tree. Then wrote on each branch a wish for their family.

The tree finished, sort of. The branches on the bottom are the ones with the family wishes. Then the top has ornaments with Christmas wishes. The next day we made snowflakes with wishes for their friends.

Part of the World Wish Chain we made on Snow Day (Wed. Jan. 27th), backed by a favorite clown.

Rice krispie treat final outcome.

World Wish Chain presented by the ghost of Christmas past.

Making Christmas presents for our skit background.

Subin making paper hearts as Christmas ornaments. Sweetheart of a girl!

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.