Home Safely

After hanging out in Phnom Penh on Friday and Saturday, I hopped on a plane Saturday night. Over 40 hours later, I arrived here in Winston-Salem, where I am slowly recovering from jetlag. So with all journeys, this one has finally come to an end. I hope you've enjoyed reading as much as I've enjoyed posting throughout the summer. Thanks for reading my blog!

Back to Phnom Penh, Home Away From Home

Friday: Caught the bus to Hoi An where I explored the impressive imperial architecture on foot.

Saturday: Spent the better part of the day at the beach with some Dutch and English travelers who I met. Took the overnight bus to Nha Trang.

Sunday: Arrived in Nha Trang bright and early. Went scuba diving for the day on the stunning reefs off of Hon Mun Marine Protected Area.

Monday: Again spent most of the day diving and the rest just relaxing. Enjoyed a scrumptious (not to mention dirt cheap) dinner of succulent lobster on the side of the street. Midway through my meal, all at once everyone got up, grabbed their food and stools, and sprinted into an adjacent alleyway. I followed suit, the woman operating the streetside stall conveyed to me in broken English that the police had come and they had no permit, and I resumed my task of picking off every edible piece of meat from that lobster. An interesting dinner indeed.

Tuesday: Spent the better part of the day exploring on foot and caught the overnight bus to Saigon.

Wednesday: Arrived in Saigon and immediately went on a half-day tour of the Cu Chi tunnels where we crawled around and I got to shoot an M-16. Returned to Saigon and I explored on foot with a long visit at history-rich Reunification Palace. Checked into a guesthouse, ate some delicious pho at Pho 2000, and just walked around Saigon soaking up the urban atmosphere.

Thursday: More exploring on foot with a long visit at the hard-hitting War Remnants Museum. Took a shower and grabbed lunch before making the bus journey to Phnom Penh. Arrived in the evening and chilled out with friends.

Southbound on the Vietnamese Coast

Sunday: Our trip to Halong Bay was cancelled due to a typhoon, so instead we checked out Hanoi on foot. We perused the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum Complex, browsed the Temple of Literature, and cruised the lake. After dinner, we attended an impressive water puppet show, a Vietnamese cultural tradition where the puppets appear as if they are floating on water.

Monday: Explored the city further and spent some time doing some much-needed relaxing. In the evening I said farewell to my travel buddy Matt Hoffman.

Tuesday: Woke early for the drive to Halong Bay (the typhoon had passed). Cruised the bay, stopping to explore a cave and swim, and later kayaked during a beautiful sunset. Had dinner on the boat and laid on the deck observing the stars and enjoying the conversation with all the Brits on my boat.

Wednesday: Enjoyed more scenic cruising in the morning before a quick swim. Transferred back to Hanoi where I immediately boarded the overnight bus to Hue.

Thursday: Arrived in Hue first thing in the morning and spent the day exploring the majestic Citadel and Imperial Enclosure, not to mention some of the fascinating museums and idyllic lakes in Hue.

Signing off from Hue, Vietnam.

Falling In Love With Laos

Again, I'm on the move and Internet isn't terribly reliable, so this post will be short and to the point.

Tuesday: Took a long but incredibly scenic bus ride to Luang Prabang and explored on foot. Climbed to Phu Si, a temple situated on a hill in the middle of town with a heavenly view of the surrounding quaint city against the backdrop of rugged mountains and the peaceful Mekong.

Wednesday: Caught a tuk tuk to Kuang Si waterfall where we hiked and took advantage of the rope swing into the falls. Again explored on foot and sampled the ubiquitous Lao food with it's discernible French influence.

Thursday: Drove a few hours to a put-in point on the Nam Ming River and paddled the whitewater down to the Nam Khan River. Continued on the Nam Khan until the afternoon when we reached a Hmong village (accessible only by boat) where we ate a delicious Lao dinner and stayed for the night.

Friday: Woke at the crack of dawn (the Lao way) and paddled the Nam Khan all day until we reached Luang Prabang. Ate another good Lao dinner on the banks of the Mekong with a picturesque sunset and chilled out by the river for the evening.

Saturday: Soaked in the atmosphere of Luang Prabang for one last time before catching a quick flight to Hanoi. Arrived in Hanoi and ate a scrumptious dinner of Vietnamese pho at a streetside stall and explored part of the city on foot.

It's a bit weird being in the city again after spending time in eternally tranquil Laos. I absolutely fell in love with Laos; the people were warm, the natural beauty stunning, and the generally relaxed pace of life appealing. It definitely won't be the last time I travel there.

Signing off from Hanoi, Vietnam.

On the Road

I'm posting from Laos, where the Internet is shoddy and expensive, so here's a quick rundown of where I've been since I left Phnom Penh.

Wednesday: Took the bus from Phnom Penh to Battambang where I hung out with some Cambodians who I had met back in the capital. They showed me true Cambodian hospitality and fed me well and put me up for the night.

Thursday: Woke up early and explored the beautiful French colonial architecture and quaint riverside scene in Battambang by moto. Rode the bamboo train with my Khmer friends in Battambang. A quick description can't do it justice, but the bamboo train is basically just a platform of bamboo propelled at unsafe speeds along the train tracks by a moto motor, and whenever an oncoming train approaches the guy in the back grinds his foot into the rail to slow down and everyone piles off and lifts the train off the tracks. Quite an experience to say the least. At noon I took the bus to the Cambodia-Thailand border at Poipet/Aranyaprathet where I got stamped out of Cambodia, walked across the bridge separating the countries, and hopped on a bus to Bangkok. Arrived at Bangkok in the evening and explored on foot until my buddy Matt Hoffman arrived.

Friday: Hoffman and I explored Bangkok on foot, taking in the numerous temples, riding the ultra-modern Sky Train, and breathing in the urban atmosphere. After meeting a Duke grad for dinner, we caught a tuk-tuk to the train station, and hopped on the overnight train.

Saturday: Arrived in Nong Khai, headed over the Thailand/Laos border, and got stamped into Laos at Thanaleng. We took a bus into town and checked into a guesthouse in the middle of the tiny capital city of Vientiane. Thoroughly explored the entire city on foot in one afternoon, taking breaks to sample the delicious French cuisine left behind as a result of Laos' status as a former French colony, and enjoyed our first authentic Lao meal for dinner.

Sunday: Caught the bus to Vang Vieng, Laos where we took in the beautiful scenery all afternoon. Enjoyed more delicious Lao food and stayed the night in a simple bungalow on the banks of the Nam Song river.

Monday: Rented bikes and pedaled through villages and rice paddies to a cave which we explored for a while. We swam and took advantage of the rope swing in a swelling river before taking a wicked hike to a viewpoint overlooking all of Vang Vieng and the surrounding landscape. Marveling at the limestone karsts swathed in mist and anchored by verdant terrace rice paddies, I decided that Laos is easily the most naturally beautiful place I have ever been in my entire life.

Signing off from Vang Vieng, Laos.

The Adventure Continues

*Above find a crudely-made map of where my travels may take me over the next month. This map excludes the places I've been so far and the entire route will be overland travel by train, boat, or bus. Keep in mind that the chance of me sticking to this exact route is roughly the same as the chance that I will go for one meal without eating rice, so I'll try to post another more accurate one at the end of July when I'm finished.*

The past week has been yet another blur. Over the weekend, three of my Khmer friends here in Phnom Penh traveled to Sihanoukville on business, and I accompanied them. Our road trip through the stunningly beautiful Cambodian countryside was a blast, punctuated by more pit stops than necessary at roadside markets, where we filled ourselves with Khmer noodles and loaded up on snacks for the drive.

After wolfing down a seafood lunch and completing their business in Sihanoukville, we swam in the ocean and hung out on the beach for the evening, before gorging ourselves on yet another seafood feast. Before bed, we took a walk along the beach, where courageous entertainers juggled torches for the benefit of travelers lounging about at seaside bars. In the morning we woke for an early swim, where we witnessed a spectacular sunrise, various hues clashing in the sky over miles of pristine coastline. On the road back to Phnom Penh, a wicked rainy-season downpour and a wild goose chase for fresh Cambodian oysters kept us entertained on the drive.

Warning: Those with a weak stomach should stick to the next paragraph. Since over the past month I have been attempting to sample anything and everything from Cambodian cuisine, I thought now would be a good opportunity to list the unique things I've eaten here in Phnom Penh: fried crickets, cow stomach, dog, fried ants, fried grasshoppers, snake, fried cockroaches, scorpion, fried worms, fried beetles, and fried tarantulas. Now that I've reclaimed your attention, I shall continue.

Over the past few days, I have been busy with last-minute meetings with students, as I wrap up my work here in Phnom Penh. I find it hard to believe that the curtain is descending on my official BN International Summer of Service, but fear not faithful blog reader, for the adventures will continue unabated.

For the next three and a half weeks, I’ll be working my way through a clockwise route around mainland Southeast Asia, passing through Thailand, Laos, Vietnam, and Cambodia on my odyssey. Although Internet opportunities may be few and far between, I’ll do my best to keep my blog posted on my whereabouts and experiences, so stay tuned.

Disclaimer: Depressing

As a history major, I am naturally fascinated with the 1975-1979 period in Cambodia, and after devouring First They Killed My Father and other resources about the Khmer Rouge (KR), I yearned to know more about this blight on human history. After closely following the trials of Duch, taking place as I write this here in Phnom Penh, and visiting the Killing Fields at Choeung Ek and Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum, my curiosity was peaking. After speaking to a handful of older Khmers, both formally and informally, about their experiences during that trying time, I settled on Dr. Ker Sovuthy to interview because of his candor and amiability. I recently sat down for two hours with Dr. Ker in Phnom Penh to discuss his personal experiences during the brutal Pol Pot regime.

Dr. Ker was born in 1960 into a relatively wealthy family in Phnom Penh, and his father held the title of district chief, a position within the Lon Nol regime. When the KR began a forced evacuation of Phnom Penh on 17 April 1975, the Ker family remained behind, but when the KR dropped bombs on their house the following day, they had no choice but to join the hundreds of thousands of others fleeing the suddenly dangerous city.

After enduring a forced march that stretched on for over a month, during which KR soldiers frequently shot or bludgeoned those walking too slowly before fifteen-year-old Dr. Ker’s wide eyes, on 20 May he witnessed his father being dragged away by soldiers to a ‘reeducation camp.’ Young Dr. Ker and his family of ten knew all too well the fate of those hauled off to these camps, and sadly enough, as a former official within the Lon Nol regime, it was almost certain that Dr. Ker’s father was mercilessly executed merely hours later.

After diverting course to prevent soldiers from recognizing them as the family of a Lon Nol official, Dr. Ker’s family endured another month of forced marching, after which they were settled in a work camp where everyone worked in the fields from dawn to dusk. Just three months later, his entire family was forced to transfer across Cambodia to Banteay Meanchey province, and during the entire journey Dr. Ker and his family were convinced they were being taken to one of the notorious killing fields or torture houses where they would meet their end. Fortunately, they were moved to another work camp in the dense forest, but unfortunately, the entire family was forced to split up.

Dr. Ker (now sixteen years old) spent the next four years working here, often carrying 120kg bags of rice (the imperial equivalent is 264lbs) through the fields and digging mysterious 16 square-meter holes, which he much later discovered would become mass graves for those who died of exhaustion/malnutrition or execution. In 1976 two of his brothers died from exhaustion-induced sickness, and after months of two meals a day of salt and rice the weight of Dr. Ker’s lanky frame dwindled to dangerous levels, but he says he was sustained by a remarkable desire to live. This zeal served him well when he barely escaped being axed to death by a soldier who disapproved of his pace of digging.

Upon hearing that the Vietnamese had liberated Phnom Penh from the KR, Dr. Ker and his brother located each other and escaped the work camp, along with a group of like-minded others. KR troops pursued them day and night, killing all they could, and Dr. Ker barely escaped a few close encounters where others in his group were executed only a meter away from his hastily-chosen hiding spot in the bushes. After escaping similar situations and being separated from his brother, Dr. Ker walked to Phnom Penh (this is a remarkable distance to traverse on foot), where he waited hopefully for his family, sleeping in the streets and foraging for food in the deserted capital city. Fortunately, after enduring this four-year-long hellish nightmare, topped off by months of anxiously waiting to learn the plight of his remaining family, Dr. Ker was reunited with his family, and together they endeavored to piece together a new life in Phnom Penh.

What struck me most about my interview with Dr. Ker was the matter-of-fact nature with which he related accounts of horrendous crimes perpetrated by KR soldiers. Hearing him describe in vivid detail the last time he saw his father, the death of his two brothers, and myriad near-death situations, I was struck by the calmness and composure with which he recounted his tortured past. When I asked him about what sort of emotions he was experiencing during these traumatic times, Dr. Ker said merely that the overwhelming desire to live superseded all other emotions, and this drive to live helped him stave off numerous encounters with death.

Although redeeming features of this era of Cambodian history elude me, Dr. Ker hopes that Duch will be brought to justice, in the first of several genocide trials by the ECCC in Phnom Penh. The imperative lesson from these dark days is the ease with which ‘civilized’ society can slide into such murderous chaos with no international intervention. For now, the Cambodian government must not run from the ghosts of its past, and as the younger generation of Cambodians tends towards apathy and disbelief (yes, there actually is a substantial contingent of Khmer youth that selectively accepts or outright rejects conventional knowledge on the KR period), schools must focus on educating students in order to ensure that similarly atrocious actions are never perpetrated again.

Risky Business

Last Thursday all the students and I went to the only water park in Cambodia, located just south of Phnom Penh. To say the park was unsafe would be an understatement; this was one of the most hazardous operations I’ve ever seen. Kids piled down water slides ten at a time as ‘lifeguards’ (actually young kids who looked like they’d been pulled off the street the day before) stood by unconcerned. I was shocked that the day netted no casualties. And to top it off, one of our motos got a flat tire, so we had the privilege of walking it down the dusty dirt path towards civilization. All in a day’s work.

On Sunday, I joined a group that meets to run in rural areas outside of Phnom Penh, after hearing about the group from a friend. I was not quite prepared for the adventure that awaited me. About fifteen of us stood in the back of a truck that ferried us about 40 km south of Phnom Penh, and when we got out, the landscape made it far from evident that we were anywhere near the city. We proceeded to take a 13 km run through rice paddies and past straw huts, all the while drawing the attention of local kids, who goggled at us in a manner that suggested that some of them might have never seen a foreigner before. Because our course took us through water obstacles like streams and rice paddies, I left my camera behind, but as I emerged onto a particular rice paddy, I cursed my earlier decision. A stunning rainbow, smeared across the black expanse of sky, framed a lone farmer (fully decked out in the stereotypical conical hat that I know you’re envisioning as you read this) crouched among endless stretches of rice stalks, harvesting his bounty. So much for my one chance at photographic fame.

Cambodia is said to be the most heavily mined nation on the planet, and as I bounded over the terrain, at many points in the run I was fairly confident that I was about to step on a land mine, despite the assurances to the contrary by my new Khmer friend who claimed to be familiar with the area. As evening drew near, we reached Saang Phnom, a Buddhist temple and pagoda perched on a hill and towering over the surrounding countryside. The vantage point offered a spectacular view of the scenic landscape we had just traversed and validated our efforts throughout the lengthy run.

Besides risking my life at water parks and in rice paddies, I have continued to teach English, computer skills, and leadership skills classes. I am in the process of meeting individually with each of the scholarship students with whom I am working most closely, disseminating materials developed in partnership with the Center for Creative Leadership, and my interactions with these students continue to be fascinating and thought-provoking.

Temples, Temples, and More... Temples?

This past weekend I took four days to make the mandatory trek to explore the temples of Angkor, located near Siem Reap, tucked away in the northwest corner of Cambodia. I met a Canadian friend, who was in Phnom Penh for the week and was also interested in seeing the temples, and we caught the early bus to Siem Reap on Thursday morning. Over the next few days we spent most of our time at Angkor, walking through and clambering over the countless temples that dot the landscape there. Unfortunately, rampant tourism has already left a discernible imprint on this cultural and architectural treasure left behind by the Angkor empire, so we made an effort to explore the more far-flung temples.

Attempting to describe these magnificent temples in words would undoubtedly be fruitless, so instead I will post some pictures (you can browse more here) that will do relatively more justice to these masterpieces, although I often found my camera insufficient for capturing the enormity and grandeur of these structures. In addition to visiting loads of temples and an interesting landmine museum, our tuk tuk driver also took us far off the beaten path to witness life on a Cambodia rice paddy, which local kid eagely showed us.

Besides visiting Siem Reap, I have been conducting one-on-one sessions with the seven scholarship students here in Phnom Penh, evaluating their progress according to three-month plans that they routinely complete. It has been fascinating to observe how culturally-bound our perceptions (both the students' and mine) of leadership are, and navigating how best to overcome these cultural differences promises to be a worthy challenge for the remainder of my time here. For instance, in Cambodian society, parents and older people rarely (if ever) show affection for their kids, and this feeds into what I perceive as a general lack of self-confidence among Cambodian youth. The impacts of this phenomenon on leadership are multitudinous and complicated, and certainly comprise a subject too wide in scope and nuanced in substance to dissect in a single blog entry (or many, for that matter), but they are shaping up to be an interesting case study in cross-cultural leadership training. More to come.

Greetings From Phnom Penh

After a flurry of goodbyes in Thailand and a quick layover in Bangkok, I touched down at Phnom Penh International airport to find a fleet of motos, all of them accompanied by a staff member or student or the organization for which I am working, eagerly awaiting my arrival. After many greetings and introductions, I was swept onto the streets of Phnom Penh on the back of a Honda moto, dust swirling around my face and insane levels of traffic in every direction as far as the eye could see.

Phnom Penh is an assault on the senses; this is the most appropriate way to sum up the sprawling metropolis. Nowhere was this more evident than at the open-air market where some of my students and I browsed for ingredients for dinner on my first morning there. Bright and early at 7:00AM, I found myself perched on a stool and crammed into a stall, huddled over a plate of rice, pork, and eggs, a truly traditional Khmer breakfast. The heat from steaming bowls rice and noodles, the constant din of merchants and patrons bargaining in Khmer, the eternal thwack of a cleaver against the neck of a squawking chicken (accompanied by appropriate levels of blood, of course), the smell of crickets and cockroaches frying in oil before being choked down by customers, and ever-present smell of Asia's treasured durian fruit all bombarded my senses.

During my first few days here, while still getting acclimated and enjoying the luxury of a few days with no work, I made jaunts to many of the tourist hotspots. The Royal Palace, the official residence of the current king, was puncuated by lush gardens, beautiful architecture, and appropriate amounts of gold and silver statures to match. And the National Museum showcased the extraordinary cultural and architectural achievements of Angkor empire.

Then it was on to the more depressing sights. At the Killing Fields, where thousands were taken to be executed and buried during the brutal Khmer Rouge period, I walked among the endless holes in the ground, in which bones and skulls still lay scattered. Once I had thoroughly seen the Killing Fields, I figured that I might as well check all the heavy-hitting Khmer Rouge history off my list, so I motoed back into town to check out Tuol Sleng. Formerly a high school in the heart of Phnom Penh, Tuol Sleng (also referred to as S-21) was turned by Pol Pot's security forces into a center for holding, interrogating, beating, torturing, and executing essentially anyone considered an enemy of the Khmer Rouge. I browsed the sobering prison cells and torture mechanisms, pausing periodically to read accounts of ordinary Cambodians who lost their lives here. The legacy of the Khmer Rouge continues to visibly haunt the country, manifest in the litany of forced marriages and family members lost forever.

On a less somber note (am I allowed to transition like this?), on Monday I began work, teaching some computer skills and conversational English to high school students. I've also begun my primary task of working closely with seven university students who are recipients of a scholarship that recognizes leadership potential and seeks to nurture that potential for Cambodia's emerging leaders. I can't elaborate too much, as I've only just started, but I will be sure to include more about my work with these students in future posts.

A Brief History of Cambodia

Fortuitously positioned on the storied trade route between China and India, from the first to the sixth centuries present-day Cambodia was a prosperous part of the kingdom of Funan, which was later fragmented and then unified as the Chenla empire. Following unification, the Chenla empire gave rise to the well-known Khmer empire, founded in 802 under Jayavarman II. Although the Khmer empire boasted stunning architectural and engineering achievements on the scale of ancient Rome, it soon fell prey to the same forces, overstretched boundaries and excessive ambition, as the Roman empire, and in 1432 the Thais sacked Angkor.

Battered by unceasing Thai and Vietnamese occupations, by the 19th century Cambodia threatened to recede into oblivion. In the most ironic twist in Cambodian history, in 1864 the French ruled the country as a proctectorate until 1953, effectively administering a vital life breath to a stuggling country teetering on the verge of collapse. Unfortunately, seduced by the extraordinary economic potential of neighboring Vietnam, France largely neglected Cambodia. Capitalizing on the anti-colonial currents left in the wake of WWII, King Norodom Sihanouk led the fight for independence, which France granted in 1953.

While its Southeast Asian neighbors struggled with various domestic problems, following its victorious struggle for independence Cambodia enjoyed remarkable prosperity. By the late 1960s, however, the Cambodia people had become increasingly alienated by the incoherent policies of Sihanouk, who had dominated Cambodian politics in the postwar period, and he was ousted by the military. Shortly thereafter the Vietnam conflagration enveloped the entire region, and only weeks before Saigon fell to the Viet Cong, the Khmer Rouge (French for 'Red Khmer') took Phnom Penh.

Under the leadership of Pol Pot, the Khmer Rouge oversaw the implementation of a brutal experiment designed to transform Cambodia into a communist, agrarian cooperative. Khmer Rouge soldiers systematically tortured and executed doctors, lawyers, teachers, those who spoke a foreign language or wore glasses, and any others who exhibited the slightest inclination towards intellectualism. Under the Khmer Rouge government, between 1975 and 1979, nearly two million of Cambodia's eight million people were exterminated, either directly or indirectly from famine and malnutrition. Vietnam invaded in 1978, and by 1979 had successfully overthrown the Khmer Rouge, although guerilla warfare, largely financed by China and Thailand, continued unabated throughout the 1980s.

The Cambodian government, despite experiencing some obstacles and pitfalls, has recently made significant progress down the road towards peace. Both warring parties signed a peace accord in Paris in 1991, and Cambodia has exerted commendable effort in laying the ghosts of the Khmer rule to rest. Currently, a Phnom Penh tribunal backed by the United Nations is trying five high profile Khmer Rouge figures, and I am interested to see how these trials progress.

On a related note, I recently read the book First They Killed My Father, a gripping account of a young girl separated from her family and forced to work in miserable conditions. I am generally unaffected by even the most emotional of stories, but a times during this book, I was downright depressed. The capacity for evil routinely displayed by Khmer Rough soldiers, who maliciously hacked helpless Cambodians to death with agricultural tools to save precious ammunition, was particularly disturbing. Despite, or perhaps because of, the enormity of the suffering that occurred at the hands of the Khmer Rouge, I am eager to confront Cambodian history head on, with visits to Tuol Sleng (Cambodia's Auschwitz) and the killing fields.

Goodbye Thailand, Hello Cambodia

As I wrap up my time here in Thailand and prepare to head to Phnom Penh, Cambodia on Friday, I am reflecting on the wonderful experiences I have had here. I am constantly awed by the extraordinary kindness of the Thai people. They have truly validated Thailand's moniker as "The Land of Smiles."

The general level of friendliness and hospitality, especially for a Westerner peering in on Thai culture, is simply stunning. Last week at a petrol station, I noticed an attendant snacking on something wrapped in banana leaves, and being the culturally curious person that I am, I asked our driver what type of food he was eating. He called the attendant over, and after thirty seconds of unintelligible exchanges in Thai, the driver informed me that it was shrimp and sticky rice. Before he had finished his explanation, I glanced up in time to see the attendant returning with one of his mysterious morsels, shrouded in banana leaves, which he presented to me with a smile the size of Thailand.

And just yesterday I stopped to watch a soccer match on the side of the road. I took a seat on the side of the field next to one team's bench and one of the coaches rushed over to me with a cup of cold water to drink. I downed the water, thanked him in Thai, and he promptly refilled my cup. These are merely trivial examples, but they represent a broader phenomenon of hospitality typical to Asian countries, and one that visibly permeates every arena of Thai life.

To all the people here in Thailand who helped make my experience an incredible one, I offer a heartfelt thanks. It really has been an experience of a lifetime, and because of the incredible time I've had, you don't have to ask twice for me to return. In fact, you don't even have to ask once.

Two Days at Sea

It's been a packed past couple of days. We had an extended weekend because of a heavier work schedule than normal over the past week. On Sunday a couple of us caught a longtail over to Ton Sai for hiking and hanging out at the beach for the day.

Monday was a whirlwind. We woke up early to go elephant trekking through the jungle, an experience punctuated by frequent stops for the elephant to absolutely demolish gargantuan trees and branches to choke them down for breakfast. Then we drove to Emerald Pool, where we hiked and swam in the national park and wildlife sanctuary, before chowing on Pad Thai. In the afternoon we idled lazily in the hot springs, a place where steaming hot water cascades down a series of bowl-shaped rock outcroppings, comfortably reminiscent of hot tubs, before tumbling into a refreshingly cool stream shaded by countless bamboo trees that formed an archway above.

Thoroughly relaxed by the hot springs, we then made a grueling 1,237-step climb to the top of Tiger Cave Temple, a Buddhist shrine perched precariously on a spindle of limestone that erupts nearly a thousand meters in the air, as if grasping for the heavens. The physical exertion in the scorching Thai heat drenched my shirt with sweat, and more than few times I peered through sweat-soaked eyes to see precipices dropping endlessly just inches from my feet, but the view at the top erased these thoughts from my mind. The Andaman coast and familiar limestone karsts stretched boundlessly before my eyes, providing a heavenly backdrop for the verdant greenery that abounded, interrupted only by the occasional rubber tree farm that dotted the landscape.

After snapping some pictures, I headed down and back for dinner and a shower. Unfortunately, our project coordinator's mom had died the night before, so on Monday night we attended her funeral. Although the southern Thai peninsula is dominated by Islam (a fact corroborated by the call to prayer at the crack of dawn every morning), her mother was Buddhist, which meant a funeral at one of the Buddhist temples in town. Through the acrid smell of burning incense (Buddhist tradition dictates that everyone present at the funeral lights a stick of incense and says a prayer before the casket), Buddhist monks garbed in orange robes chanted prayers, while attendees honored the dead by offering prayers over clasped hands. It was my first Buddhist funeral, and definitely a unique cultural experience that enriched my time here.

Tuesday our conservation team boarded the dive boat for a two day seahorse release project that had been in the works for quite some time, a result of our partnership with marine fisheries officials here in the region. Over the course of five dives, we released and monitored the seahorses as they adapted to their new environment. On Tuesday night, we made a night dive, the first night dive for most of us. Through the glow of a flashlight, I was able to observe some unique aquatic life, including rare crustaceans, a meter-long barracuda, and three sharks! At the bottom of the ocean, in the middle of the pitch black night, the object of interest for three sharks, I came to the comforting realization that this experience combined three of man's deepest fears: deep water, the dark, and sharks. And all in a night's work.

Between dives, I fished for fish and squid with the Thai crew, pulling in enough for a delicious lunch the following day. Anchored in the middle of the Andaman Sea, we observed the dazzling array of stars before sleeping on the boat, and then woke up to make two more dives, before returning to the mainland throroughly exhausted. Which brings me to the present, my eyes heavy with fatigue, hunched over a computer, composing this masterpiece for your eyes. So without further ramblings, I'm signing off until next time.

Only in Thailand...

Work is in full swing for me now, and today was my second day off since I've gotten here. The past few days our conservation team has been combing reefs for trash and other debris that can harm fragile coral ecosystems. Just yesterday, we found an area of no more than ten square meters littered with old fishing nets that had devastated that reef.

Working with my gloves and sea snips I meticulously began removing the one gigantic net while remaining cognizant of the reef on which it was lodged. As I was stuffing the net in my salvage bag, I noticed a badly damaged Moorish Idol (a beautiful black, white, and yellow fish in the Bannerfish family, from which the Angelfish hails) swimming furiously in my bag. I quickly cut the fish free, and it swam away slowly and painfully, although it was visibly apparent that its efforts to break free from the fishing net over the previous few days had caused some significant damage to its body and fins.

Yesterday afternoon, a few volunteers and I climbed on motos for a 30-minute ride to a 7.4km trail that a local had recommended to us. After a fairly grueling ascent, made more strenuous by the sweltering afternoon heat, we emerged on a rocky face overlooking the better part of Krabi province. We estimated visibility at around 50km or so, and the view was spectacular, with a broad expanse of ocean and tropical islands cutting away to the west and Krabi's fabled limestone karsts dominating the east.

Also at the top, we encountered a group of six young Thai guys who had hiked up to camp for the night. As I approached their campsite, the first two things I saw were three rifles leaned up against an adjacent rock and a Thai man furiously swinging a cleaver at what appeared to have once been a chicken, blood flying everywhere. Typical of Thai people, these guys were almost disconcertingly (for an American, at least) friendly, and didn't hesitate to offer me some of the chicken and rice they were cooking over banana leaves. I helped them set up their tent and chatted with them for a while, before continuing on down the trail, inhaling the gorgeous views off of each side of the ridge.

Today we had the day off, and some friends and I took the 20-minute longtail ride to a small village called Railay (alternately spelled Rai Leh), rendered accesible only by boat as a result of behemoth limestone rock formations that immure the small huts and beautiful beach. We rock climbed all morning, and the climbing was excellent, although the view from the craggy top was even more spectacular. In the afternoon we headed back to Ao Nang where we took a Thai cooking lesson in which we prepared (and ultimately ate, of course) a seven-course Thai meal. And all in a day's work.

Sweaty Buses, Spicy Food, and Spectacular Landscapes

After a two-day flight, I arrived Saturday morning in Krabi, where I met our project coordinator and hopped on the bus. The drive from Krabi to Ao Nang, the small town in which I'll be living for the next month, was about 40 minutes. As we drew closer to Ao Nang, the scenery became more and more spectacular. Massive limestone karsts jutted out of the ground, smothered in all sorts of tropical vegetation, dwarfing trucks and scooters crawling along the two-lane road.

I showered and headed into town for a day of orientation, which essentially consisted of me eating obscene amounts of Phat Thai and checking in at the dive center, before returning via the bus. (Don't be misled by my terminology - the bus is no more than a pickup truck with two benches in the back.) Crammed in with about 12 Thais and sweating profusely in the mid-day sun, my thoughts punctuated by the intermittent barking of our driver as he recruited more people to pile in the back, a deef affection for Thailand began to settle in.

The next morning I awoke early for breakfast and a dive briefing, after which our conservation team boarded trucks for the three-minute drive to the beach. There longtail boats, the rusty motors of which bucked to and fro at the graceful hands of our captain, ferried us to our larger dive boat. On the two hour boat ride to Phi Phi Don, my German roommate Eike and I reviewed our diving basics, and soon we arrived at Losanah Bay. The landscape was utterly breathtaking - behemoth rock formations leapt vertically for hundreds of feet from the shimmering water. Lush vegetation crept skyward, diverting their course for the many mysterious caves that pockmarked the rock face. I could tell this was going to be a memorable month.

While the rest of the team did marine life counts and managed Crown of Thorns populations, Eike and I did the first half of our dive review, before taking a succulent lunch of yellow curry rice and chicken on the boat in transit to Koh Yung. After completing our dive review, we embarked on the two-hour ride back to the mainland, and spent the afternoon studying our advanced dive manuals.

Today Eike and I finished the first half of our Advanced Dive course, logging a deep dive at Koh Bida Nai and a naturalist dive at Maya Nui. We were fortunate enough to see some barracudas, a turtle, and some blacktip reef sharks, among other aquatic life. After one more day of training we will be ready to begin working with the team.

Land of Smiles, Here I Come

I am about to embark on a journey of a lifetime, a foray into the enigmatic region of Southeast Asia, a jaunt into the unexplored land of mystery and romance. As I sit here packing my backpack and making last minute preparations, it's hard to believe that tomorrow will set into motion a semester's worth of planning, and I'll soon be on my way to the aptly named Land of Smiles.

My plan is to spend the month of May working on a reef conservation project in Ao Nang, Thailand, and for the month of June I'm heading to Phnom Penh, Cambodia to teach a leadership class to university students. Then I'll spend most of July traveling through Vietnam and Laos, before heading back to the States on July 26. So tomorrow I'm hopping on a plane for the brutal Greensboro - Detroit - Tokyo - Bangkok - Krabi flight, due to put me in on Saturday morning.

Now for a little Thai history. Historians believe that the first Thai settlers ventured southwest from modern-day China and came under the rule of the legendary Angkor Empire. Sometime in the 13th and 14th centuries, a series of Thai kings were able to wrest control from the Angkor influence, and Thailand enjoyed 400 years and 34 reigns worth of peace. In 1765 the Burmese invaded and sacked the capital, which Thais later rebuilt as Bangkok, and after which the Chakri dynasty assumed power, beginning the line of kings still in power today. To ward off Western imperialism, kings in the Chakri line pursued progressive reform measures, and were later forced to forfeit significant land holdings in Laos and Cambodia. (It's worth adding that Thailand, meaning 'Land of the Free,' has never been colonized, with the exception of a brief Japanese occupation during WWII.)

A peaceful coup in 1932 marked the beginning of a constitutional monarchy and ushered in five decades of oppressive rule by anticommunist military dictators. Although one of Thailand's Prime Ministers attempted to shift the country to a representative democracy in the 1980s, the military ousted that government in 1991, giving rise to violent demonstrations and a shift back toward civilian rule. The nation implemented its sixteenth constitution (the first one ever penned without military oversight in Thai history) in 1997 which provided for significant democratic reforms. Thailand enjoyed tremendous economic growth throughout the early 1990s, but with the East Asian financial crisis in 1997, experienced a prolonged recession. The country has bounced back from the economic hardships of the 90s, largely due to the resilience of the Thai baht, and has weathered the current economic crisis relatively well.

Following what external observers called the cleanest elections in Thai history in 2001 and 2005, a military junta overthrew the government of Thaksin Shinawatra in 2006, and imposed martial law on the country. Democratic elections again made an appearance in 2007, and after dumping two corrupt leaders, Thailand settled in December 2008 (disconcertingly recent?) on current Prime Minister Abhisit Vejjajiva. Over the past few months, the exiled former PM Shinawatra has routinely stoked domestic discontent, prompting major riots and an official declaration of emergency in mid-April 2009. Although Vejjajiva has been somewhat effective in mitigating instability, the current political situation in Thailand can be summarized as tenuous at best. King Bhumibol Adulyadej has ruled since 1946, often exercising immense influence and intervening decisively in times of crisis, and continues to enjoy the protection of stringent lèse majesté laws.

Hopefully for my faithful readers, that will be the last time (at least for a while) that history major Matthew strikes, but I'm not making any promises. Thanks for reading, and I'll be sure and post when I arrive in Ao Nang, as soon as I have Internet and have recovered from jetlag.