On the Road: Cambodia

On the Move

Ok. Next, up is Cambodia. A small country with a bloody past. Then there's the great temple complex of Angkor Wat among other things. Keen to experience and learn, I arrived by plane, got a 30 day tourist visa and was ready to go. Now let's see what I did.

BCI

I'm not sure why I keep teaching kids. I can't say I enjoy it as much as I once did. But at the same time it's easy work with plenty of perks. To start, the students look up to me, the parents appreciate what I do, and in a way I'm helping to make society better. Plus, there is really no place that couldn't use another experienced teacher. Even if they don't have money to pay the person, they'll gladly receive them if the teacher volunteers. That was how I came to teach orphans in Siem Reap.

I found the place--Bridge Cambodia International--through workaway.info. On the website, BCI was one of three orphanages in Siem Reap looking for volunteers, and of them, it seemed the most legitimate based on what former volunteers had written. So I agreed to help for two weeks. When I arrived, the kids were already in bed, but I met the orphanage director Hong. She had a room ready and informed me that another volunteer Michael was also on site. He too had come from America and together we would teach English to the kids.

It did not take long for me to realize what a good thing Hong had set up. But lets start at the beginning. The way Hong's story goes, she was a young woman when the Khmer Rouge came to power. During this period her entire family was killed and she barely made it to a Thai refuge camp across the border. After that an American NGO sponsored and relocated her to California. Now, all these years later she wants to help a new generation of children without parents. She's taken in 28 of them and sees to it they have a good upbringing, and moreover, by becoming a host on the workaway website she's able to bring in a steady rotation of volunteer teachers to interact with the kids. It showed in how they spoke. The country of Cambodia is not English proficient, yet the orphans had a firm grasp on the language, the older ones being the best.

Oddly, Hong herself had trouble with English. She was also hard of hearing. It at times made communication difficult but the woman managed to always get her point across. And once I'd understand her, I helped in any way I could. This included peeling vegetables, installing shelves and assembling a bed with a mosquito net. At one point I even cut some of the boys' hair using clippers. I wasn't the only one keeping busy either. Everyone helped everyone, the children included. Watching them go about their tasks, I found them to be surprisingly skilled for their young age. For example one boy could work a hammer much better than me. And the girls were all excellent cooks. They did everything from killing a duck, to de-feathering it, to chopping it up for the stove.

Homemade meal

Class time

My room

One of six puppies

Volunteers

Angkor Wat

After a week of teaching kids I spent my free day touring Angkor Wat. It's the place everyone sees in Siem Reap--or Cambodia for that matter--and I was determined to photograph the main temple at sunrise. With another two volunteers I hired a tuk-tuk and we set out at 5AM. That gave us plenty of time to arrive at the park entrance, buy a ticket and find a good spot. When we'd finally sat down, I was surprised to see hundreds of others were already gathered in the early twilight. They came from all over--Asians, Europeans, Americans. A few Cambodian tourists also added to the mix, but unlike everyone else, they could enter for free as opposed to paying $20.

As the largest religious monument in the world, Angkor Wat had no shortage of things to see. In fact, to check out all the temples would take a solid three days. I gave myself only one. After sunrise we continued on to Bayon temple which was built at a time when the Khmer Empire had shifted from Hinduism to Buddhism. It contained major influences from both religions, as do most traditional Khmer buildings, and I was awed by the many faces carved into the temple towers. But it was difficult to feel that I was standing in some ancient jungle temple. There were simply too many tourists, and to worsen matters they often ruined my shots by stepping in front of me.

In the end the tuk-tuk driver took us to 5 temples (as many as we cared to see in the midday heat) and they were each nice in their own way. For example, Ta Phrom temple had trees roots growing out of the walls and looked otherwise impressive with its tightly built corridors and abrupt towers. Because of this a filming crew used the location for a scene in the first Tomb Raider movie so it's now known as the Lara Croft Temple. Like so many other places in the whole of Angkor Wat, it is still being restored. The interesting thing is that after the Khmer Empire was conquered in the 15th century, Angkor Wat was never entirely abandoned. It just fell into disrepair. To fix the problem a percentage of ticket sales goes towards the restoration work. A German company currently heads the project.

Main temple

Ta Phrom

Art for sale

Breaking dawn

Stone faces

Looking down

Orphans

Before arriving in Siem Reap, I knew the kids I'd work with were parentless. Yet in spite of this, I couldn't help thinking they looked and acted like ordinary kids. There were the shy quiet ones, the smart brainy types, the one gay boy who could dance really well, and then of course the hard to deal with attention grabbers. But whatever their personality, they had good hearts. Discipline wasn't much of an issue either because Hong wouldn't stand for misbehavior. She did not hesitate to snap at even the smallest of the children, which to some of the volunteers seemed a bit much. Not to me because though. I've learned over the years that immediate, harsh punishment is often the most effective way to keep a large group of kids in order.

Anyhow, the girls were much more mature than the boys. They slept in a long a narrow room, two to a bed. The boys had an identical room opposite the main building and the bathrooms were in the back. The toilets were the squatter types that needed to be flushed with buckets of water. The same water was used in the morning to bathe. Then the children would go to school and later come home at lunchtime. So it wasn't until around 1pm that we volunteers began the English lessons. When I came to the orphanage, a teacher from before had just taught them Let It Go. The older kids sang it well, clearly wanting to practice over and over again, but the lyrics made my stomach churn. I soon insisted they learn another. For whatever the reason, they chose Because of You, by Kelly Clarkson. Not much of an improvement, it too had my guts begging for a reprieve. But I could not deny the children. So I toughed it out for a week before introducing a song of my own--No Woman, No Cry. The boys took to it, and I eventually had them belting out Bob Marley. I reckoned out of all my time as a teacher it may've been my finest accomplishment.

Though I did not pry into the children's pasts their stories began to surface. Hong was one source of information, the other volunteers a second. By listening to them I learned that the boy Bonchea had been abandoned by his parents on account of his being a dwarf. The boy was also left with a permanent limp on his left side after his father had thrown him into a wall. Then there was Thea, a soft spoken twenty-one year old. He had a wooden prosthetic leg, and compared to the rest, seemed too old to be at the orphanage. The guy's story was a heartbreaking one as well. Years before he'd lost his parents and the leg in a scooter accident, and after such a tough break in life, where else could he have gone? Some of the other kids had also said their parents were dead. I listened with genuine sympathy, yet regardless of how much they'd suffered before, I noticed the mark of sadness was not upon them. They were happy, healthy kids living in a well run orphanage and I was a glad to be a part of it if even for a short time. Hong once boasted that she'd never had a run away. It was easy to understand why.

With the kids

Lunch

Another puppy

When working with a group of kids, you can't help but pick favorites. For me I had two--one boy and one girl. The boy's name was Kimhak. Small and quick to laugh, he had a certain charm about him. But what I found most endearing was his wide eyed innocence. The boy's birthday also coincided with my stay. I'd gone to Angkor Wat that day, and after returning discovered he'd left for the night to visit a relative. The following morning I woke to see him playing in the neighbor's field. "It's me Kimhak," he said. "It's my birthday."

I shook my head and replied, "No Kimhak. Yesterday was your birthday." Then looking him in the eye and with a straight face, I added, "It's too bad you weren't here to enjoy it. We had a big party for you with food and music." Oh how the boy's expression turned to one of great disappointment, the very look of a child who'd just swallowed a fly. At this point I should have came clean, saying it was a joke, but I sometimes can't keep myself from taking pleasure in the emotional manipulation of children. So let it stand. Of course Kimhak learned from the others that I'd lied to him. And it was okay because later that night we held his party and the kids danced for two hours while enjoying cookies and soda. Poor, poor Kimhak though. He cut his foot early on and spent most the party sidelined. Yet the smile on his face never faded.

Rittri was the other darling of the group, and on this all the volunteers could agree. Again it was the smile that won us over. The thing was she mostly kept her mouth closed. It was because she was conscientious of the rotten gap between her two front teeth. Normally I wouldn't have cared. But when she laughed she sometimes flashed a cute smile. I absolutely had to have a photograph, and it took some time stalking her with my camera until I finally succeeded. The result was my best photo from Cambodia. Others may not think so, but a photo speaks to people in different ways, and for me the one of Rittri was quite special.

Strange as it was, I left the orphanage twice. The first time was to go south to see more of the country. Then I returned to Siem Reap weeks later to fly out, and stayed another night, this time leaving early in the morning when it was still dark out. The kids came out to give me hugs and I held them in turn telling them to work hard so that they will always have happiness in their lives. It was a sad moment to let go of the place, but I've seen so many adorable kids as a teacher that I am in a way desensitized. It's probably the same for the orphans, them too watching the volunteers change every few weeks. But writing this, I feel a certain pull at my heartstrings. I think back to the wonderful days we spent with one another, particularly the laughter shared in the shade of the mango trees, bright and green in the hot Cambodian sun.

Siem Reap Pub Street

Rittri and Sreyphi

Kimhak studies

Birthday party

Phnom Penh

Traveling by night bus made my trip from Siem Reap to the capital city a seemingly short one. After I'd arrived at the bus stop in Phnom Penh, a half hour later I stood in the lobby of a hostel, and not too long after that I had my bag packed into a locker. It was so easy to transition from one place to the next. So without missing a beat I went to see the sights, first visiting the royal palace. It's home to Sihamoni, the King of Cambodia. Before the man spent most his life in Europe where he took to teaching dance and other artistic pursuits. Then, when his father became to old to fulfill the duties required of a regent, Sihamoni was called upon to take the throne. The position was not an enviable one. The King of Cambodia serves merely as a figurehead, a man overshadowed by the prime minister who has been in power for 28 years and is a dictator in every way but name. This person, Hun Sen, is not liked by the Cambodian people--and for good reason. As prime minister he has accumulated great wealth selling off many of the country's assets to foreigners, and if that weren't bad enough he supposedly has strong ties to Vietnam, Cambodia's historic enemy.

Phnom Penh is also home to the S-21 Prison and Cheung Ek Killing Fields. They stand as vivid reminders of a horrific genocide which resulted in the death of 1.7 million Cambodian people. So seeing these places in person had a strong impact. Perhaps the most difficult part to stomach was the photos on display in the prison. The Khmer Rogue had taken them before torturing the prisoners into confessing to false charges. 20,000 in total met this fate, and it was sickening to see the proof glaring at me from the displays, countless faces frozen in time, fear and confusion in their eyes. Yet in a few of the photos the prisoners appeared to be smiling. Perhaps they had no idea that death was around the corner. Or it could be they'd had that eerie calmness which overcomes a person once all hope is gone.

Next was my trip to the Killing Fields that same day. This too was difficult to come to terms with. People died yes, but learning how it had happened, well, it left a heavy pang in my chest. The Khmer Rouge did not dispatch their victims cleanly. Bullets were too expensive to waste, so they instead used farming tools--axes, hoes, knives, clubs, bamboo spears--and as was so vividly described at the Killing Fields, the executioners sometimes even cut throats with the serrated edges of the branches found on palm trees. The men in charge would bring their victims outside the city to kill and bury them in darkness. To keep everyone calm they lied, telling the captives they were being relocated, and as the trucks arrived, loudspeakers played propaganda music to cover up the screams of those already dying. In this manner, the Khmer Rouge spared no one--not even infants--for as Pol Pot had once said, it was necessary to "kill the roots" to rid oneself of a problem. The executioners thus swung babies by their legs, smashing their heads against the trunk of a killing tree and then dumped their bodies into a pit along with the rest of the dead. A memorial now stands nearby. Many of the victims uncovered remains fill it, a final resting place for their wayward souls.

King of Cambodia

Royal Palace

S-21 Prison

Barbed wire

Countless faces

In the memorial

Killing tree

Taking a reprieve from all the historical madness, I had the opportunity to see my aunt during the visit. She too was traveling around Southeast Asia and we arranged to have dinner before she left, but then ran into each other the day before at the royal palace. Gloria was with her husband Kent and I joined them, listening to their local guide as she described several aspects of Cambodia's heritage and culture. The next evening we had our dinner at a restaurant on the Mekong River. I enjoyed a cheeseburger and several beers while we talked at length about our travels. It seemed surreal that we were chatting in a place so far from San Diego. I seldom meet relatives at all since I've left the US, but it was of course a good thing. Seeing them again reminded me that I'm far from alone in the world.

Kent, Gloria and me

Grim Legacy

Traveling to Phnom Penh and learning about the Khmer Rouge regime gives a clear picture of the atrocities committed. But the audio tapes and displays don't really explain why it had happened. I mean, how could a government do such a thing? And to what possible advantage?

To uncover the reasons for the genocide, we must first take into account that Cambodia had been a country at war for years. It began when the Americans dragged them into their conflict in Vietnam. The constant bombardments and cross border skirmishes plunged the country into chaos, a situation which allowed for separate factions to claim regions. It was not long until they fought one another, setting the stage for a bloody civil war. One such faction was the Khmer Rouge. After the faction emerged victorious remnants of their former enemies still existed on all sides. For Pol Pot they posed a serious threat. In fact, anyone not of the Khmer ethnicity were a danger in his eyes. This included the Vietnamese, Chinese and Cham minority groups. The man was also paranoid about foreign groups like the CIA and KGB operating in his country. So he sought them all out. And as he'd once said, “better to kill an innocent man than to let a rebel escape.” In line with this belief Pol Pot had anyone suspected of being an enemy summarily executed. It set a precedent. Suspicion lead to killing which in turn lead to more suspicion and more killing. At the same time the Khmer Rouge had a larger agenda. More than simply striving to stay in power, they wanted to transform the country into a self reliant agricultural state, something akin to the Khmer Empire of old. This would be Pol Pot's greatest failing.

The devil himself

Today, most people in Cambodia never experienced the genocide. And for those that were alive at the time, they really had no idea what the government was up to. But the people did whatever they could to not upset the new order. The members of the Khmer Rouge were no exception. Most the low level soldiers killed for fear of being killed. Then, after the regime fell, the Khmer Rouge leaders accused them of misinterpreting orders and abusing their authority, a story Pol Pot stood by until his death. As for those higher ups still living, they haven't changed their position--save one. The head of the S-21 prison accepted full responsibility for his actions and asked for forgiveness from the families of the victims. He was given 19 years in prison.

At any rate the Khmer Rouge leaders knew exactly what was happening. Perhaps it had not been their original intention, but to create their agricultural state the Khmer Rouge needed to eliminate a new enemy--city dwellers. The majority of the country's intellectuals were among this group, and because Pol Pot's plan was flawed, any educated person would have known it would fail. For one, Pol Pot wanted people in the cities to become farmers, an area in which they had no experience. He also shut down schools and hospitals, abandoned several industries on which the economy had been reliant, and drove out foreigners. Agriculturists, economists, and sociologists must have spoken out in protest. But rather than heed their advice, the self-assured Pol Pot saw them as enemies who would stand in his way. So the intellectuals and anyone suspected of being one were executed same as the rest, and in this climate of fear, people deflected suspicion by denouncing others. The cycle of death thus spun and spun until the entire country was red with blood.

Yet contrary to common belief, two thirds of the people who died during the genocide were not murdered outright. So how then did they die? Well, from the very beginning Pol Pot's plan for agricultural reform caused food production to drop. To compensate, the regime decreased ration sizes, forcing expendable city dwellers to farm over 10 hours a day on only 250 - 500g of rice. They died by the hundreds of thousands from overwork. Others died of malnutrition, or they starved from the subsequent famines. And then, because the Khmer Rouge had already killed most the doctors, the country was left without anyone qualified to treat the sick, this after they'd closed the country's borders effectively cutting off all medicine and aid from the outside world. In the span of four years, one fourth of Cambodia's population died as a consequence.

I'll be honest. This story has no happy ending. In 1978, after Pol Pot antagonized them with bold talk and border raids, the Vietnamese invaded Cambodia. With the loss of Phnom Penh, the Khmer Rouge's power quickly faded, and a pro Vietnamese government emerged in their place. Pol Pot, who had escaped, was never brought to justice. Nor were any of his cronies. At least not those who denied their involvement in the genocide. For years the Khmer Rouge carried on in exile as the official government of Cambodia.They were recognized in turn by America, China and the UN. And later on, after the world wised up to their evil ways, justice still did not prevail. The last of the Khmer Rouge will live out their final years in relative peace while their persecution is tied up in red tape. Such is the ugliness of the world.

Leaving the cities

Khmer Rouge flag

Kampot

Cambodia is not a big country. It is roughly the size of Missouri and has about 16 million people. The capital of Phnom Penh is in the south, and a bit further down is Kampot. Travelers frequent the area because of its laid back atmosphere, scenic mountains, and high quality marijuana. Be that as it may, I was originally going to skip the place, but then decided to go after others recommended a visit. And so it was that I ended up at a hostel on the town's river. By nighttime the place was full with backpackers. They lounged on the river deck smoking and drinking while exchanging stories. Talk of travel is often the topic of conversation at hostels, where without fail you hear about another better destination still out there. It becomes a game of oneupmanship--travel this, and travel that--and can be quite tiresome. But in Kampot the backpackers were nice enough people and I had fun getting to know them.

Anyhow, there were plenty of mountains in the area, and on the tallest was a kind of resort area. It is considerably cooler at the higher altitude, and French entrepreneurs took notice, setting up a hotel and casino overlooking the sea below. But when the Khmer Rouge came to power, the French fled, abandoning their mountaintop paradise. 38 years later the buildings still remain and are a kind of tourist attraction. There is also a new casino not too far away. We formed a group at the hostel and rode up by rental scooters. It soon became apparent that the weather was not favorable. As we climbed in altitude it went from sunny to foggy and cold, and the change in climate made us feel that we were no longer in Cambodia. Even the vegetation was different from what we'd encountered elsewhere in the country. But it was a good to see something new while enjoying a pleasant cruise through the countryside.

Since riding a motorbike was the thing to do in Kampot we spent another day traveling to the coast. In nearby Kep, a large fish market offered crabs, stingray, squid and other grilled seafood. I opted for the chicken. The price was two and a half for a leg with rice, but I talked the woman down to two dollars. Then I took the money from my wallet, but the vendor only wanted 2,000 riels worth of cash, the equivalent of 50 cents. Had I realized sooner she was referring to riels from the start I wouldn't have haggled over the price. The problem is Cambodia uses a dual currency system, with both dollars and riels accepted everywhere, and it can become confusing at times. Anyway, after eating we left the market to swim in the ocean and visit a butterfly farm. Then we followed a dirt road to an abandoned bungalow resort. Such a pity the place had gone out of business. I couldn't help but to think someone's hopes and livelihood had crumbled away with the buildings.

At the hostel bar

Scooters

Abandoned casino

Kep market

Butterfly farm

First church

Lost bungalows

Young Blood

People like to travel overseas. But some people do it more than others. For example, I kept meeting Germans all over Southeast Asia. As the most populous country in Europe, it made sense that they outnumbered the English, French or Swedish people I met. But the ratio was inordinate. There seemed to be two Germans for every other European I came across. And what really got to me was how young these travelers often were--I'm talking 18 and 19 year-olds. To them going abroad was the thing to do after high school. They'd work a few months, save money, and then take a plane across the world to become a backpacker.

In America you'd be hard pressed to find adventurous teenagers of this type. It's just not in our blood to do something like that at an early age. In fact, proportionately speaking, not that many Americans go overseas. Perhaps it's because the thought of visiting another country can be intimidating. It is also difficult to get enough time off from work to warrant a long flight to and from a distant location. Better to stay in the States and check out the many domestic tourist spots. And for those who have a lot of time on their hands-- recent university graduates for example--its not easy either. Most end up neck deep in student loans, so spending money to travel is the last thing on their minds. But the Germans don't have to worry about these problems. They get six weeks paid vacation a year, the nearest neighboring country is only a few hours away by bus, and the government pays university tuition costs. It is as if their country is structured to make travel easier. 

Well, as I wrote earlier, I encountered a lot of Germans. The two at the hostel in Kampot came from Stuttgart, and both were 19. By the time we met, they'd already gone to Myanmar, Thailand and Laos. Next up on their agenda was India, so they were definitely getting around. This in itself was surprising. But what astounded me most was what capable travelers they were. They could figure out things fast, get the best prices and maximize the use of their time in each place. So I simply tagged along, letting them plan everything. And as we spent more and more time together, I came to respect their knowledge, insight and maturity. By comparison I was an idiot at 19, yet these guys seemed so worldly and upbeat about everything. And it was not only them. In general, the Germans who travel are easy to get along with and make for interesting companions. They also speak highly of their country, and while I never had much interest in visiting before, I'd now really like to see Germany one day. If I do go, I've already met several locals who have offered to take me into their home and show me around.

Jakob and Constantine

Koh Rong

No visit to a Southeast Asian country is complete without an island getaway. Even landlocked Laos has the Mekong River with its Four Thousand Islands. And lets not forget Cambodia. There are plenty of islands right off its southern coast. A two hour ferry ride, for example, takes passengers from the town of Sihanoukville to Koh Rong. That was the one island I had time to visit. I arrived with the two Germans, Jakob and Constantine. The first thing we did was find a hostel. There were plenty of them along the beachfront and each had a bar staffed by young foreigners. As I'd later learn, the employees were volunteers who worked in exchange for room, board and alcohol.

What I found fascinating about Koh Rong was its recent entry into the realm of mass tourism. Until two years ago it had been home to a few fishing villages with the occasional backpacker coming to see the beach and nature. But the number of arrivals were limited, at least until Southeast Asian Review listed the island as the #1 off-the-beaten-track location in Southeast Asia. That brought tourists over in full force and the island quickly came alive with all the amenities and accommodations needed to handle the increase in visitors. That said, Koh Rong wasn't too touristy for my disliking. There were plenty of locals and just walking along the beach a group invited us to play sunset soccer. After that we enjoyed cold beers and barbecue while seated on the sand in front of our hostel. Later we met others, went to a bar overlooking the village, drank more and danced. The beer was cheap and the music lively--my kind of place.

Beachfront

Still early

Drinking time

Sadly, the time I spent in in Koh Rong was cut short by circumstance. I needed to return to Siem Reap for my onward flight and had only a second night remaining. Together with the Germans, I left the village and trekked to Long Beach opposite the island. Living up to its name, Long Beach was a 5km stretch of white sand at the edge of the jungle. A resort on the far end, a guest house in the middle, and a bungalow villa at the start were the only signs of development. Most people simply used tents to camp on the sand. Before we set up our own in a quiet spot, our little group relaxed in the water. The sea was clear, aquamarine, and shallow, especially with the tide out. I spent most the afternoon sifting through the sand digging up seashells. My intention was to use them to decorate a sand castle I'd made. But then I thought I should take them back to Siem Reap for the kids at the orphanage.They'd never been to the beach, and when I went through with it, they were happy to receive them.

Night set in and we joined another group that had a bonfire going. They'd simply found branches in the jungle to use as firewood. A few bottles of liquor sat in the sand, the smell of pot mingled with that of the burning fire, and a bowl contained some leftover crabmeat. I declined to have a bite. Beer was all I needed to get me through the night. And it was time enough to bond beside the glowing flames. There was a guy from Britain, another from Senegal, an Argentine, two girls from Denmark, one sheila from Australia and so on. We talked and laughed, then went into the water to check out the phosphorescent plankton endemic to the area. Having grown up on the coast in San Diego, I'd seen such plankton before, but for the Germans it was a new experience. They acted like 5 year-olds visiting Toys'R'us for the first time, and I took great pleasure in watching them play with the points of bluish green light. It was the perfect end to another wonderful adventure in Southeast Asia. The only problem was I'd not used insect repellent after I came out of the water. Little blood sucking sandflies bit me on my arms and back, and a week later the bumps have still not gone away. In all my life I've never gotten it so bad.

beach dog

Beginning of Long Beach

Another great day

Bonding

Month Five

There you have it. Cambodia in a nutshell. The visit also marked my fourth month on the road. That's the longest I've travelled without actually living somewhere. And I'm not done yet. Currently, I'm in Malaysia and I'll be here until the beginning of May. I'lll write about it when the time comes. But one thing for now--I'm having a load of fun. Seriously. Not a dull day to be had in Malaysia.

Where to next sir?

On the Road: Philippines

Another Archipelago

During the 9 years I lived in Japan I visited a lot of Asian countries. One of them was the Philippines. But the time I spent there was not enough to keep from wanting more and several years later while looking at my travel photos, I knew I would never find peace until I went back. Here is the story of the when, the where and the how.

At Manila Airport

Touchdown

After an overnight delay in Manila I got off the plane in Puerto Princesa, the provincial capital of Palawan Island. Thanks to couchsurfing.com I'd come into contact with a local woman named Lia, and she was kind enough to show me to a cheap home stay before taking me around the small downtown area. Puerto Princesa is a little off the beaten track but some tourists still visit to see the nearby Underground River, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. It also serves as a travel hub to the popular El Nido in the north.

Though it shames me to say it, I did not do much in Puerto Princesa besides drink at the local clubs. One spot named Tiki Resto Bar catered to tourists. It had live music, pool tables, a nice bathroom, etc. But the dance floor was far too small for my liking, so before my stay in town was over I found a second better club called Gold Moon. The music there was solid, the atmosphere electric, and the dancing raw. It probably had something to do with all the ladyboys present. I hit the stage and grooved with them, because as any of my friends would know, I don't give a damn if I'm with a bunch of gay men or dancing alone--I got moves and I use them. And I was in good need of some proper clubbing after the venues I'd hit up in Indonesia. Too much top 40 music with DJs who didn't know how to let a good song play out. Either that or they spent too much time on the build up, holding off on the beats. But I digress.

I mentioned already that there was an underground river. I took a bus on a windy highway, then needed to ride a boat over choppy water. At the end of it I stood waiting beside a lagoon while passengers boarded even smaller boats to go into the cave opening. It seemed awful touristy but there was no going back. When my turn finally came, I was lucky to sit up front where I could use the big hand light they'd connected to a car battery. It provided ample illumination as we went into the cavernous tunnel. Overhead little bats clung to the ceiling, and brackish water hid murky depths below. I was impressed by the slow descent into darkness. It continued for a kilometer as our oarsman told us about the geological features and history of the river. He even knew of caves elsewhere in the world, Mammoth Caves included. That's the worlds largest cave network. It's in Kentucky and I'd gone there two years prior, so I tested his knowledge. The man knew his business. I gave praise where praise was due and then we were done. To get back to the bus stop I opted to go on foot along the coast, trekking through jungle and limestone ridges before finally coming out onto a beach where the wind swept the fatigue from my body. A perfect finish to a grand adventure.

Princess statue

Town church

Lush coast

Into the cave

Light on

Lots of Islands

Palawan is not so big when compared to the other islands in the Philippines, but it's got a lot of friends--1,780 of them to be exact. Most stretch into the sea from the northern side towards the crux of the archipelago. The town of El Nido marks the sweet spot, its name meaning "the nest" in Spanish. I had thought it had something to do with the original Spanish explorers who'd arrived in the 16th century, but it turns out the Filipinos gave it that name because the area was originally known for the bird nests found in the cliffs. Locals still collect and use them to make a kind of stew. I had no interest in trying it. Better to eat simpler fare such as noodles and fried rice.

Anyhow, there are a lot of islands right off the coast of the town. They pop out of the water in all manner of upright jaggedness, the soft limestone at their core having eroded down into imposing cliffs and peaks. They're not just there to look at either. For a reasonable fee tourists can take a tour from one little island to the next. I went on two--Tour A and Tour C. Tour A is the most popular and it ends at Seven Commandos Beach. Now picture if you will the most stunning tropical beach you've seen, be it in person or on TV. Seven Commandos Beach is a step above. It's that amazing--so much so that even with my camera skills I could not capturing its vibrant, breathtaking beauty. Still, the photos I took make a statement. Aquamarine water, white coral sand, islands on the distant horizon, palm trees swaying gently in the wind. The place was a taste of heaven on earth.

Apparently, five years ago El Nido was a sleepy fishing town yet unknown to the tourists of the world. But then it was ranked in a famous travel magazine, featured in a few movies, and voila!--tourism quickly took hold. To accommodate the sudden increase in arrivals some serious city planning came into effect. For one the town needed reliable electricity, and while brown outs still occur during the day, that issue has been largely taken care of. Hotels have also sprang up left and right with lush coastal vegetation being cleared for fancy resorts. So El Nido is now going the way of Boracay and Cebu, two big Philippine beach spots, and yet it can't be helped. For now though, the balance between development and local flavor still boils down into a pleasant travel destination. You got the boat tours during the day and some fine dining to round out the night. And then there are the bars. The oddly named Pukka Bar (foremost a reggae joint) is the place to go because it turns into a club around 11pm, and is the only place to groove. Too bad the dance floor is small there. It gets packed fast, and hot and sweaty, and with all the alcohol coming in from the bar...well, I'm sure you can imagine.

Signage

Palm trees

Seven commandos beach

Playing novuss

On Tour C

Skin boarding

El Nido waterfront

Colonized

The Spanish were the first Europeans to colonize the Philippines. They laid claim to it when Captain Magellan arrived in 1521, though the captain never made it back to Europe. He was killed by natives and another man, Juan Sebastian Elanco, finished the first circumnavigation of the world. Determined to establish a foothold in the South Pacific, the Spanish returned in force and brought the archipelago under their rule, thus uniting the islands for the first time. They evangelized the locals in the Catholic faith, and worked at driving out the Muslims that had been moving in from Borneo. Were it not for the Spanish the country would likely be predominately Islamic, much like Indonesia or Malaysia.

Spanish rule lasted over 300 years and by the end of it the Filipinos had grown weary of their foreign overlords. They started a revolutionary movement in1896 which was interrupted by the arrival of an American fleet two years later. The invaders won the subsequent Battle of Manila Bay, ousted the Spanish and transferred control of the archipelago to the US government, a move later sanctioned by the terms of the Treaty of Paris. The Filipinos first saw the Americans as liberators but soon realized one foreign power had merely replaced another. The revolutionary movement ignited anew followed by three years of bloodshed. In the end, the Americans crushed all resistance and held the Philippines as a territory until the end of WWII.

Death of Magellan

So why the history lesson? Well, to begin with, history shapes the present, and by looking back we can gain a better understanding of how things are in the modern world. The Philippines is not unique in that it was a former colony of a Western power, but it was the only sizable one in Southeast Asia to become Catholic. Moreover, the influence of prolonged Spanish and American governance Westernized the country to a larger extent than elsewhere in the region. This accounts for why English is widely spoken throughout. But there's something else beneath it all, something quite sad. The Spaniards and Americans indoctrinated the locals, leading them to believe that their practices and culture were inferior, and did so at a time when the country had not yet truly established a national identity.

Flash forward to the present. The legacy of Western dominance has created a complex among the Filipino people. They often see imported goods, services and entertainment from the West as superior, and the local economy suffers as a result. Moreover, there is a great deal of privilege Westerners enjoy in the country. They are adored and revered because it is a sign of status for Filipinos to associate with them. Now, this of course does not apply to all Filipinos. Some really don't have anything to do with foreigners whether out of shyness, disinterest or resentment, but those that show their obsession are everywhere. They won't treat Western people as gods, but you get the feeling that you are special. And whereas this is the case in many places in undeveloped countries, in the Philippines its that much more layered on, like the icing from a Filipino birthday cake.

Gone too far?

Coron

To the north of Palawan is the smaller island of Busuanga, still a part of the same province. It can be reached by ferry from El Nido in about six hours. I made the voyage and arrived in the port town of Coron mid-afternoon. Like El Nido before it, the area had countless limestone islands dotting the surrounding sea, but was a quieter place with less tourists and many traditional style homes built on stilts over the water. Behind the town rose a hill with the letters C-O-R-O-N set up Hollywood style. A stairway lead to the top where a panoramic view of the sea also awaited visitors.

I went on an island tour and was pleased to find that even the snorkeling was exceptional. Whereas in El Nido most the corals had died, they were still in pristine condition around Busuanga. But the real draw was a number of Japanese ships that had sunk during WWII. The sea was not so deep and many of the wrecks were within 40m of the surface. I went to three with a diving company. The third dive of the day, the Olympia Maru, was the most impressive. US planes had torpedoed it yet the hull still remained largely intact. Our guide took us in and led us through the many compartments of the cargo ship including its boiler room. The passages were labyrinthine and at times we become separated from one another, this in spite of having flash lights. Other divers had converged on the spot as well, making it difficult to tell who was who underwater.

Healthy corals

Another tour

Another island beach

On the dive boat

A French guy I met, Pierre, and myself rented motorbikes to see what was north of Coron. About 10km outside the town the vehicles became few and we cruised along, then at one point stopped to see an elementary school. Further north we came across a waterfall. It was nothing to write about, though the journey was worth the effort because we could see the countryside. On the way back we were also fortunate to catch a cockfight. The two handlers kissed their roosters for good luck, and then unleashed them in the ring. The fight did not last long. Each bird had a two inch metal spur attached to its right leg, and one solid stab from the victor quickly killed the loser. The men who had gathered around gave off mixed reactions depending on which way they had bet.

Me and Pierre also went out for drinks, and a Filipino guy joined us. He was in Busuanga for work, but had the evenings free. He told me he was a supervisor for road construction and traveled often to approve the budgets for work done on the National Highway system. This put him in a privileged situation because he decided if roads were going to get paved or not, which in turn was vital for the growth and development of rural areas. And for his approval he readily accepted kickbacks. Corruption such as this is commonplace in the Philippines and the man was doing what anyone would in his position. He was also happy to spread his money around and paid for everyone who sat at our table. While we chatted he provided a lot of insight into the culture and how the country operates bureaucratically. I could write a whole other segment about it, but it's a sad affair.

School kids

To the death

From above

Trikes on the road

 Mass Tourism

Tourism. It's big now. Most destinations you have heard of are inundated with fresh arrivals trying to enjoy whatever a place has to offer. Believe me. My eyes have seen these people across the globe and though they tend to be on the young adult side, you have all types including families and elderly couples. Depending on the destination they might be from within the same country, but many fly in from overseas because the disparity of wealth in the world makes it easy for say a European or Australian to live it up for a week in Vietnam.

Frequent flights to these popular places, developing tourist infrastructure, and a never ending flow of willing visitors all amount to one thing--mass tourism. And in my case I have a love hate relationship with it. On the one hand I'd like to think I'm better than the majority of other tourist, that I try to connect with locals, learn about the culture and history, and most importantly, be a respectful visitor who gives something back. But I'd be a hypocrite to say so. There are as many times that I ignore locals, and God knows how many nights I've gotten drunk and thrown my money around. How that factors in with the good things--the volunteer work, going to museums to actually read the displays, sharing a smile with a stranger--I'm not sure. I guess it's a little bit of give and take.

At the same time I must face up to the fact that I am part of a larger problem. Mass tourism forever alters the places it touches. It doesn't matter if the locals want it or not, prices go up, and traditional types of work such as small scale farming become impractical because they can no longer provide a viable wage. So often the locals are forced into the tourist business, but few enter it as self-made entrepreneurs. Rather they work under those who have always had the money and then put in long hours to barely get by. So they're not exactly better off than before, though sometimes there are the small time business owners too. Yet they all compete against one another and become more aggressive trying to get money from the same tourists.

Visitors often gawk at touts, loud shop owners, and the like, and then turn a blind eye with nose turned upward. Well, the truth is these local hustlers are there because people from a foreign land started coming in large numbers with a lot of disposable cash. That changed everything. In short, it is a privilege tourists exercise which these locals will never be able to reciprocate because they haven't the means. So I'm disgusted by the indifference of many tourists. I don't care if someone is a tuk-tuk driver or a drug dealer, when they offer me their service or goods, I look them in the eye, smile and give a firm "no thanks." That simple acknowledgement is something, because everyone is trying to make a living and they deserve a bit of dignity now and then.

Beggars are another matter. They have nothing to offer, and to worsen matters, they can be very persistent. But again, they exist en masse for the same reasons as touts. The disparity of wealth in the world has created those who have and those who do not. So who else are they going to look to for a hand out? Still, I do not encourage them. A brief look in the eye and an "I'm sorry, no," is what I say. After that I'm a cold, expressionless robot. That's what it takes to push those types away.

Phallic souvenirs 

Still Ferrying

First Palawan, then Busuanga, and after that the island of Mindoro. It took another six hours by ferry to arrive at San Jose, a port city considerably larger than anything I'd seen since Puerto Princesa. I did not linger. A shuttle bus, and another three hours got me to another seaside town, but one that serves as a gateway to Apo Reef, the world's largest after the Great Barrier Reef in Australia. I had considered diving but soon discovered what it would cost me. In Coron I'd paid $60 for a three dives, but at Apo Reef it was triple that amount. And besides, there were other things to do in the area, and what's more, the town of Sablayan had a laid back atmosphere with few foreign visitors.

First up was a trip to Sablayan Prison Farm some 20km north of the town. It was the first prison I'd ever heard of that welcomed tourists. After cruising the pleasant coastal highway by motorbike, I found the prison entrance. The local authorities made me sign a waiver stating that I would meet the inmates at my own risk. Only then could I enter one of the compounds. The prisoners were mostly transfers from Bilibid Prison in Manila. That's the worlds largest high security prison with over 20,000 of society's worst. Needless to say, it's an overpopulated hell hole, and anyone would be lucky to be sent elsewhere, which is why the inmates at Sablayan were well behaved. One slip up and they could be sent back.

Town bridge

Tropical produce

Barbed wire everywhere

My guide 

Off to work

To pass their time the inmates did farming within the colony. In between work duties they could watch TV, play billiards or loiter around the yard smoking and chatting. The longterm inmates watched over the others, and one of them took me on a hike in the nearby hills. Apparently, the surrounding jungle had many tropical birds which tourists came to see. But for me it was a hot, sweaty, bug infested trek, and at my behest we soon returned. Once back at the compound I asked my guide why he was in prison. He replied that he had stabbed a man to death. Then I asked another inmate guard what his story was. I got the same answer. From what I gathered most the men's crimes were gang related and if it wasn't murder, it was rape or robbery that had got them locked up. But for guys with such a dark past they were quite approachable and friendly.

The second interesting place I went to was Pandan Island. It was right off the coast from Sablayan's port, and for $5, local fishermen happily ferried passengers across. The island was small and its few inhabitants occupied a small stretch on the side facing the mainland where they staffed a local resort. I'd gone with an Irish guy and we rented fins and a mask for snorkeling, and right off the shore was a flat ocean floor covered with seagrass. Sea turtles came to eat the grass and it it possible observe them close up as they were mostly stationary. They were cute, almost alien-like creatures who glided through the water with graceful ease. Later, the Irish guy and I went for a hike through a forested path to reach a secluded lagoon before topping off the day with a beer at the bar.

The Irishman

Place to relax

Hidden lagoon

Coming back

Dominic

My last stop in the Philippines was back on the big island of Luzon. Some seven hours north of Manila by bus is the coastal town of San Juan. It is there that my good friend Dominic lives. We'd first met years before when we moved into the same guest house in Tokyo. His room was the one next to mine. I recall that Dominic didn't work often so he was partying until late at night. The noise never bothered me though making me an ideal neighbor. Anyhow, I left Tokyo after a year, and Dominic eventually went to Australia. We would not meet again for another eight years. Taking the bus to San Juan, I did not know what to expect. All I knew was we would finally have time to catch up.

I took it in all so fast. Dominic had done well for himself. He'd travelled extensively, spending over half a year in places like India, Sri Lanka, Australia and the Philippines, and it was the latter that charmed him into staying for good. He rented an apartment on the beach, surfed often and enjoyed the good life. This is where I came into the picture. In his spacious apartment he had a room and cold beer waiting. We talked in his dining area while his girlfriend cooked, and after a half hour or so, it was just like old times. Dominic still had his way of over talking, taking ages to get to a point, but what he said was so damn interesting you could listen to the guy for hours.

An interesting thing about Dominic is that he is content to forever lead the life of a bachelor. So even now, at the ripe old age of 47 he has no intention to marry. For one he thinks everything is going to shit and doesn't want to bring any more kids into an already overpopulated world. Second, he has income from an inheritance that allows him to live comfortably without having to work again, granted he never has to look after anyone other than himself. But getting by in such a manner can be a little empty. The man admitted himself that he needed to focus his energies on something meaningful, and for Dominic that is writing. With all his insane stories, and cutting insight into human nature I'm certain he has a good novel in him. But I warned Dominic--writing is no simple undertaking. It takes a lot of effort to hone one's skills and create decent output  I do wish him the best of luck though, and once he's done, I'd love to read the results.

Dominic's pad

Together at last

The Oldest Profession

San Juan is a strange place. On the one hand it is a small town where foreign tourists and Filipinos from Manila learn to surf. The beach is of golden sand, the waves are consistent for half the year, and along the shore, bars, restaurants and hotels create a pleasant atmosphere. Best of all, there's not too much development to make it feel touristy. For that reason a lot of foreigners have made it their home away from home. That said the expat community is the 40+ crowd, and there's one other big draw that keeps them coming--the ladies.

Prostitution is something I avoid. The whole idea of sex for money is a big turn off for me. If I'm with a woman I want her to be interested in me for who I am and not for the contents of my wallet. But not everyone is like me. In San Juan a lot of Dominic's acquaintances had no qualms over paying cash to spend time with younger women. And because I was hanging out with them I got some major insight into the world of the Filipina "girlfriend experience." The hook up usually begins at a girly bar. The scantily clad ladies zone in on the old guys who show up, and old they are, white haired and sometimes leaning on a cane. A lady will cling to an arm and make small talk while the man buys her drinks. If the man likes the girl he can offer to pay her bar fine. This is a sum of money that frees her up from work for the rest of the night. What happens next is often viagra and sex. It might mean more too. The guy could continue seeing the girl for an extended period, making her a type of escort/girlfriend. But here's the catch. If a girl does not feel comfortable with a guy she can refuse to be bar fined. She'll lose out on the money, but it gives the prostitute some control over how she goes about their work.

I am not one to judge. Unlike me, not everyone was born into a loving family, cared for, and well educated. So I was lucky in this regard. But on the other end of the social spectrum you have many Filipinas who come from poor families and have no other way to support themselves. To complicate matters the girls often have children young. In the Philippines there is no legal way to have an abortion to circumvent this problem. The Catholic government is also against contraception and though they sell condoms a single rubber goes for a dollar a piece making it unrealistic for many Filipinos to use them regularly. The result is a lot of single mothers, and some of them become prostitutes. Let's look at an example, a woman I met named Kaylee (not her real name).

Raised in a family with one daughter too many Kaylee was forced into prostitution at the age of 13. Not too long afterwards she became pregnant by a Canadian who left the country and cut all ties. Poor Kaylee was too young to be a mother. She gave the child up for adoption and then still had to work to survive, at which point an expat Australian became smitten with her. She told him where she stood, and that if he was serious he would look after her. He agreed. He disregarded her past and married her, and for a while things were good. But the Australian had not taken good care of himself. He was only in his mid-fifties and a heart attack struck. Dominic was there. He gave him CPR, and still the man died in his arms. So Kaylee's life came crashing down. And there she was with a second newborn who had a congenital defect requiring surgery. Dominic and a number of other expats took pity on them. They gave money to see that the baby was taken care of and for Kaylee it came as a kind of windfall. For once in her life she had cash, and lots of it. She spent the money buying nice clothes and getting drunk.  After that everyone spurned her and she fast became an emotional, alcohlic wreck. Yet she is still out there looking for that next guy. But maybe it's too late. She is damaged goods. And only at the age of 20. That is the life of a prostitute.

Ok. Not every one of these girls has such a sad sob story. Some are decent, good natured women temporarily compromising their values to make ends meet. But it's still an ugly business. Not that the old guys care. They're jaded by the cynicism of aging, past divorces, crappy jobs, and years of loneliness. But once they set foot in the Philippines something good falls right into their lap--a young woman who will make them feel incredible again. That I suppose trumps everything.

Young ladies

Fun in the sun

Day's end

Going Strong

Well, there you have it. Another peek into a far off corner of the world. And admittedly, it's been somewhat of a mixed look. So I'll close things out on a high note. The Philippines is an amazing destination, from the people to the culture to the incredible scenery. And yes, I've said the same before about other countries, and it's because there are a million wonderful places out there and discovering them is the beauty of travel. But for me the Philippines stands out above all other Southeast Asian countries. I love it that much.

With February behind me I'm now in another place--Cambodia. It's only the third country on this trip, yet at this point it feels like I've been traveling for ages. For this type of thing, I'm not young either. Almost all other travelers I meet who are on the road longterm are in their twenties. "But so what?" I say. I'm determined to see more of the world. This is my time to shine. 

Got to keep moving