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My Southeast Asia Trip Part 9 (But I’ve still got one more a’comin’. Note, not trip)! .

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Hi everyone!

I was planning on sending an update while still in Vietnam, but alas, I didn’t have time to type anything before my flight left. I flew from Vietnam to Taiwan to Alaska to New York. It was a long and strange flight path to be sure, but just smelling that Palin-Alaskan air renewed my spirit and made me want to go shoot a moose and/or have an illicit baby, so believe it or not, I’m HOME! I spent one night in the city, then came up to where my folks live in good ol’ Pleasant Valley. I ate a lot. I started telling stories, then realized that I had written a good many letters home that I could share instead. Some got forwarded here anyway, so I have quite a few to share. I thought I’d get them out and show them to you just so you get a peek into some of my more personal rantings.

Oh, and here’s one more thing I’ve got to share, because I think it’s fascinating. Did you know that Christmas is huge in Vietnam? I mean huge. There are decorations nearly everywhere, holiday pajamas being worn, and salesgirls wearing filtration masks and dressed in prosticute little santa-ess dresses that barely reach the mid-thigh. It’s a naughty version of Christmas that just seems wrong. You know what’s even more wrong? The Vietnamese singing Christmas carols. You can order up your special holiday music performed just for you in one of two incredible ways: Sung in Vietnamese and syllabically misaligned, or, even better, sung in English like this:

Jin-gle bews, Jing-gle bews,
Jin-gle aw da way,
Oh whas Ph??? is is to rie
In a one hohse o-pen say, HEY!

It’s a terrible experience. Reading my note can’t be much worse. Enjoy!

Dear French people,
It’s not that you’re trying to be rude. It’s just that you’re in your own little world of superiority. You don’t even notice other people, and it’s almost as if you walk through us than past us. Normally when meeting people I can have a normal conversation and decide if you’re interesting or not. With you, it’s like you’re in a members-only la-la land. You definitely rub people the wrong way. You’re weird.

Dear Cambodia,
You are a place where futures are today and careers are hammock lounging. Even the monks seem to be lazy, doing their morning alms at 9, 10, or even 11 in the morning. When I see markets in any country, my heart starts beating faster as I always want to jump in and see what I can find. Here, in your country, I have no desire to. Everything is the same. You don’t even try to look different, setting up every stall alike. I know what you’re selling from 50 feet away and because there are only about 10 dishes to choose from in the entire country, I’ve had whatever you’re hawking many times before, which still doesn’t make it tasty. Other than your complete lack of enthusiasm for life, you also alienate everyone with your constant request for money and your most obnoxious taxi/tuk-tuk/moto drivers. Never before have I not wanted to get out and explore a city so much as in your capital city, Phnom Penh. Not only was there almost nothing to see, but the constant harassment one faced by simply walking outside was enough to make me want to stay inside. The fact that you people wage light physical assaults on your own kind in order to sell a $1 soda makes me feel a little bit better, but still makes me sad. As does the fact that there are always about eight of you all hired to do a one-person job. Look, I know you went through terrible times. I cannot even begin to imagine what the older generation of your country went through and lives with to this day. But at some point you have to have a reason for living, a purpose, something your country is known for other than a huge ruin that’s been there for centuries. Your current generation has to do something you can be proud of, or make use of, or something, don’t you think? While I understand how your horrific background has resulted in your complacency today, your in-your-face hunger for money simply alienates me, you’re full of no innovation, and you offer little that surrounding countries don’t do better. I’m sorry to say this, but I have no desire to visit you again.

Dear Vietnam,
Compared to Cambodia, you are a futuristic country. You have such modern marvels as:

Jobs
Things to do
Careers
Toilets and showers that aren’t merged closer than Siamese twins
Activities involving things other than sitting in a hammock
Styles other than pajamas
Places to go
Technology
Lives
Variety
Soap
The habit of brushing one’s teeth
Visitors other than the French
A few more things

But for you and Cambodia both, every single place is looked at not as a place of beauty, or a place to respect or be proud of, but as another money opportunity. I suppose that once again I can’t blame you too much for wanting money, but that doesn’t mean I can’t complain. You aggressively try to get tourist dollars at any and all points along a trip. At the beginning of a boat trip. On the boat. In the middle of the boat trip, when I’m stuck in a floating tourist trap. Before I get on the bus, just in case I changed my mind in the last 14.1 seconds and do want to purchase that giant tablecloth. Oh, we need a bathroom break? We’ll get out at this rest stop for 20 minutes, and that’s not to relieve anyone of the oddly settled meal we may have had the other night, but to get us to roam a handicrafts store and purchase something out of boredom, which I refuse.
On your good side, you have several things going for you. First, I’m always shocked that you can smile and welcome us Americans. Perhaps it’s because you won the war, but the fact that you don’t hate me and are able to treat me like everyone else is really shocking. I keep expecting an attitude change once your people learn that I’m from the previous enemy country, but apparently you have forgiven.
You have absolutely stunning views all over. My train trip gave me a look into the side that tourists don’t see too often, that is, your raw, wild countryside. It definitely makes me want to go back, but next time, take it easy on trying to get my money, will you?

Dear Kenny G,
I still don’t know why you exist.

Dear Tourist,
Sure you want to travel, to explore the world. That’s fine and all, but I bet you could get a lot more done if you didn’t spend a good chunk of your time bragging about where you’ve been and how many countries you’ve crossed off your list. Hint: You haven’t seen a country just because you’ve visited or even lived in the largest city for a while. In what way is that representative of a country, its land, its people? Oh, so you know exactly what the U.S. is like because you’ve visited NYC, eh? Goodness, try really seeing a country for what it really is.
If you enjoy taking the common tours and seeing the sites, that’s fine and dandy. I’m not saying I’m better than you, or that you’re a bad person. Just don’t pretend or tell others that you’re breaking new ground and seeing “undiscovered” places. You’re never gonna find ’em, and you know why? Because you, like everyone else, are using your Lonely Planet guide. “Oh, Lonely Planet is the best out there, and I really trust it.” That’s all well and good, but not only does Lonely Planet accept bribes for higher placement in its tour books (as I’m sure all of the guidebook companies do), but everyone, and I mean that almost literally, has them. Out of the hundreds and hundreds of people I’ve seen with guidebooks, only three, that’s right, three, have had a non-Lonely Planet guide. These three were all French, because the French are so superior that they also have their own guidebook. Essentially, what this means is that all of you travelers are reading the exact same thing. This means you’re all reading the same “secrets,” all going to the same “rarely visited” places, etc. And you think you’re exploring? The real adventurers I met were the couple who biked from England to Vietnam. The young woman who snuck into Tibet several times. The guy working several years in countries from Estonia to Fiji. If you want to do the normal stuff, that’s fine. Just don’t go telling me that you’re forging new territory, because you’re not at all. “Oh, we’re going our own way and doing the tour ourselves!” you say proudly, knowing you’re truly an explorer. You’re not, really. Sure, you’re taking the more challenging, exciting, and risky route, but you’re still all going to the exact same place in the end, doing the same thing, and haggling for prices with the same tourist-familiar guides. You know what village life is like because you slept over for a night. You witnessed a “real” tribal dance. You did this and that. Sorry, but even the government admits that these things are all set up to get tourist dollars, and that these ceremonies are rarely performed for real.
I’m not saying you’re not having fun, or not seeing things, or that you’re a bad person, or need to change your ways. I’m just saying, dude, don’t make it seem like you’ve actually explored, or gone off the beaten path, or met the real people of the country. Because, as it turns out, you haven’t been a trendsetter, but rather a follower like nearly everyone else.

Dear Cats,
You think your life is so tough, don’t you? Sometimes when you’re sleeping for your 25th hour of the day, one of your masters makes you get up and move to another couch. Or worse yet, you only get half of the tuna drippings. If it isn’t one thing, it’s another. Well you know what? Try thinking of those less fortunate than you. The cats in Thailand and Malaysia get their tails chopped off for good luck. Sometimes they get them knotted and then chopped, leaving one heck of a demented-looking stub. Few cats escape without such treatment. So consider that next time you whine about not having your premium Kibbles ‘n’ Bits served to you in a crystal goblet.

Dear Mom,
Seriously, you really thought I’d lose weight?

Dear Karaoke,
It’s amazing what you say about a country. Somehow, through your corny music, you manage to represent the very being of every place I visited.
For you, Thailand, it’s mostly just happy music, though 99% of the time it’s about searching for love. Your country is infatuated with this constant search for love, but your tradition says you’re not allowed to show any of this love in public, so you don’t even kiss your hubby goodbye in the morning. Still, in the land of smiles, it’s the anyone-can-sing-as-long-as-he/she-wants, happy-go-lucky approach. Just like the country, in Thailand you represent happiness, a search for love, and a low-stress way of life.
For Malaysia, oh right, Islamic women aren’t really supposed to sing, so what few karaoke places there are remain dominated by male singers. One karaoke incident there recently featured two men who were arrested for the murder of Abdul Sani Doli, a man who apparently sang too long and got penalized for hogging the microphone. Messed up. I haven’t heard your music, but despite the natural beauty of your country, your corrupt government and the slightly peculiar ways of your people unfortunately describe you to a T.
When you play in Cambodia, you’re rather pathetic, and the fact that no one actually sings to you is quite sadly bizarre. Your music videos are a stretch, to be polite. Pretty much every video features the same stage full of people (often looking uninterested) and doing the same slow dance. They don’t even look happy when the low-def. camera is featuring them! I know the Khmer people went through a horrific event, but after 30 years, can’t someone try something unique? In this country, you really show yourself as the dull, uncreative, stuck-in-the-medieval-times country you are.
When in Vietnam, you are screechy and obnoxious, but varied. You show your soft side and your tough side. Not just a tad in-your-face, the Vietnamese version of you plays fairly nonstop. I’m not sure if it’s more or less palatable than the Cambodian version, but given that the Vietnamese language is pitch-based, I’m going to hand the annoying prize to Vietnam. At one point I really thought I was going to join the deaf community with your fingernails-on-chalkboard squawking. Your music in Vietnam is just like the country. Diverse, tough, victorious, yearning, and more.
All in all, I’m not a fan of your musi. But the ability for a country to display its personality through your medium is quite fascinating.

Dear Dead People,
Sometimes you’re open to new suggestions, and sometimes you’re not. I mean, when you’re alive. Well, I just want to help educate the public, and inform you that you now have two choices for burial. The Southeast Asian special is a more typical burial style, involving less luxury but more freedom of choice. Of course, you’re dead, so you ain’t got no choice, but hear me out. You can have your typical Southeast Asian burial where you’re wrapped in a simple cloth, placed maybe a foot underground, and given a huge stone coffin box to mark your spot. And you’re placed on a hill. If you’re in Vietnam when your time comes, hopefully you don’t mind sitting amidst the rice, because that’s where you’ll be. Cost of option one: your life.
But for a special offer of only 27 payments of $39.99 (plus shipping, handling, and your life), you can get bathed, dressed, and placed in a shelf-stable wooden coffin. And buried below the ground, not on a hill, because unlike the simple burial, please do realize that with any Poltergeist-like flood, ol’ granny cakes could come a’rollin’ through the front door wearing little clothing. And that’s just not cool.

Dear Temporary Mom in Malaysia,
You were so kind and generous in sharing your home, your family, your food. You taught me so much and helped me learn about your country and your people while I lived with you. But then you turned a tad crazy, playing the blame game, going on many a rant, and insisting you didn’t know hugely important bits of info related to, oh, life and/or my safety. I admire you tremendously, but yeah, you’re sort of crazy, and the fascination with mopping will always confuse me. It’s a somewhat useless, vicious cycle. You and all of Southeast Asia have this no-shoes rule, which is commonly known. But then you do the whole mopping thing, which causes me to slip and fall, and really doesn’t serve a purpose. You see, mopping removes hardened dirt and sticky stuff. Hardened dirt and sticky stuff occur when stuff gets dirty while wet. This doesn’t occur in normal conditions. But when you mop, it leaves the floor wet, and then the dirt accumulates from bare feet – no matter how clean – walking on a wet surface. You therefore have to keep mopping and mopping since you don’t ever let the floor dry before re-nastying it up. Also P.S., mopping doesn’t actually CLEAN. It redistributes things like dirt particles, crumbs, and hairs. Sweeping was invented for a reason. But thanks for making it completely nasty every time I walked in your house and especially your bathroom.

Dear Village in Thailand,
I complained about you left and right. Your food was terrible and I didn’t feel as useful as I could have been. Except for those things, though, you were exactly what I wanted. During my first week there, I went for a walk, turned a corner, and gasped at your beauty. Never before have I nearly hyperventilated at a view, but I did just that. Living there was stress-free. No computers, no hassles, no unnecessary anything. You knew these things existed but kept life simple and pure. We practically lived off the land, but with a few modern conveniences, such as electricity. Your people were very kind. Your teachers, very dedicated. The food outside your village, delicious. The rest of Thailand, absolutely beautiful. I may have complained while I was there, but you are what I thought about during the rest of my trip, and you’re what I wanted to go back to. I felt so safe, calm, and comfortable in this place so completely opposite my world. You are the most gorgeous place I have ever visited, and I will never forget you.

Dear Thailand Music Videos,
Just thought I’d drop you a line telling you that I really, really love your music videos. The fact that the people lip syncing and performing the songs are not the actual singers is a terrific idea, because who wouldn’t want to see Kid Rock act out a Nickelback song?

Well that’s all for now. You thought you’d escape with this being my last note, but no, I’ve got a summary coming next week. It just wouldn’t be proper to leave without reaching my full annoying potential, so you’ll be getting one more note from me.

And to answer your question, pizza was the first thing I meant to eat when I landed, but my brother brought me a brownie which was so good that I teared up. I’m not even kidding.

It’s really time to go now. There are people to talk to, lounging around to do, and, oh, a life plan to figure out at some point. But not now. Time to go and fill my hungry stomach with pure, fatty goodness.

For the second to last time,
Coop

My Southeast Asia Trip Part 8 (and there’s just a week to go)!

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Greetings all,

Well, I spent Thanksgiving alone and fairly sick in my single room in a guesthouse. At least I was in a nice guesthouse. Actually, my single room was probably the biggest available in Ho Chi Minh City, complete with a bed, dresser, table, footrest, 2 chairs, bench, wood loveseat, and corner kiosk. Yes, I was confused with the kiosk at first as well, but in my delusional, feverish state, I made good use of it by first selling tickets to Miss Ho Chi Minh City and then playing poker with my closest imaginary doll friends. I lost a lot of money playing poker, but it wasn’t until the fever broke that I realized that the dolls had all been in my head.

But that’s okay, because the day after Thanksgiving everything improved. I met up with a new travel buddy and we went to the Vietnamese underground war tunnels, otherwise known as the Cu Chi Tunnels. The tunnels are quite famous with visitors who marvel at the tiny openings that the Vietnamese were able to not only fit into, but live in. It is with great sadness that I tell you that after several men on our tour made it in and out of the tunnel opening with ease, I was the only female to attempt it, and I didn’t make it in. Not because I’m claustrophobic, or because I didn’t try hard enough, or because I couldn’t fit. Oh wait, yes, it was because I couldn’t fit. I got my legs through but once my ginormous hips hit, the group of Singaporians we were walking with started tittering. I got up from sitting on the ground and we all went to the next hole in the ground, which was different and quite large, having been widened specifically for Westerners. “Here, maybe you can fit into this one!” they exclaimed, pointing in encouragement to a hole large enough to fit a baby elephant. They meant well.

You’ll notice that what is written and what the actual story is…well, they’re completely different things. Above, for instance, you may have read that I went to the tunnels. The next few sentences gave you the real story, though. Do you often wonder how much of what you first read is true? What’s really behind the headlines? What are the people in the situation really thinking? I don’t want to lead you on or mislead you with what’s happened here, so now I bring you the real thoughts behind the headlines. It’s a li’l bit of Lost in Translation for you, but hopefully it’s better than the movie. Then again, I hated the movie but sat through it three times, so maybe, by extension, you’ll read this note even though you don’t want to.

What you read: I ordered a delicious pineapple milkshake off a cart on the street.
What’s really going on in my mind: I feel like drinking something refreshing and fruity. Ah, a street stall selling shakes! My favorite, and I think I’ll get a pineapple one. Okay, there she goes cutting a fresh pineapple right in front of me. There’s no prepped fruit here, only the fresh stuff cut right in front of your eyes. Okay, she’s peeling it now in the brilliant way all of Southeast Asia peels pineapples, which saves a good portion of the fruit and looks cool too. Okay, now she’s ruined all milkshake credibility she had by touching money, rifling through several drawers, and exchanging something with her friend, who’s just pulled up. That’s wonderful, really. Great, now moneyhands is back at my pineapple, cutting it up. Okay, well at least I get a nice, refreshing, healthy dri…no, nevermind, there goes one, two, oh wow, three tablespoons of sweetened condensed milk. Goodbutbadforyou Morning Vietnam.

What you read: Every guy is so friendly here, always curious and asking me questions!
What’s really going on in my mind: It’s simple: They’re either trying to get you to take a moto ride, or they’re asking if you’re single or not. Green card, anyone?

What you read: After a long day working with the youngsters, the boys asked me to join them for dinner and had the eldest boy serve me.
What’s really going on in his mind: She was so nice to come, and we’re so young that we’re not corrupt yet, nor are we asking for her hand in marriage yet. Now that she’s helped us out, let’s share our dinner with her. No, of course I don’t note the dead ants that look like spices in the meal we just gave her. No, I don’t notice any giant cockroach crawling on the wall. What do you mean it just fell off the wall due to its massive weight and size. Even if it was real, I don’t see how it would be the biggest cockroach she’s ever seen in her life, and she’s from New York City so she’s seen them all. So you’re saying it fell into the cabbage, that’s fine. If that really did just happen, well, at least it is not in her food. Not that she’ll ever know what was in it, because that’s another story I’ll deny.

What you read: My buddy and I motorbiked to a Cambodian cave and were led on a not-so-safe tour through it.
What’s really going on in my mind: I think the moto ride was safer than the cave. Here go these young boys in their flip-flops and their tiny flashlight, showing us through these amazing caverns. “Want to keep climbing, lady?” they ask. Well, sure. Oh, there’s a giant hole and some bad footing and I will fall down into that hole and die if I make a mistake, awesome. Lovely. Okay, I made it through, and now we’re onto another cave, and wow, this one is even more cavernous and amazing. And we’re walking over the Buddhist ruins, passing under the stone staircase that now leads nowhere due to a past partial cave collapse. Comforting. “You go further, lady, sir, you climb?” Sure, why not? So we’re led into a snaking walking tunnel and then come to an almost-sheer rock face that leads to light. The boy scampers up. “Just grab onto root. Tight.” Oh, I love putting my life into the hands of a tree root that’s not all that thick. But we make it up and into the open with just a few now-bloody scratches, and now it’s pouring. “Follow close, hole here,” says the boy, pointing out that if we don’t step on the rocky, vine-covered spires exactly as he does, you will fall through a hole and die. After climbing over this and that, we emerge at quite possibly the most beautiful view in all of Cambodia. Mountains in the distance, lush rice fields, gardens, homes, farmers, and animals here and there, and green palm trees dotting the misty horizon. It really was worth it, but of course I say that having not fallen down a massive hole and died.

What you read: Cambodians love their karaoke!
What’s really going on in their minds: It’s quite normal for everyone to love listening, and just listening, not singing, to karaoke. That’s what it’s for, anyway, the notion of karaoke, to listen, right? Here in Cambodia, it’s all the rage. At a bar, at a friend’s, at a party…oh, how we love to sit stoically and watch the television play the same 16 songs over and over again! We think it’s a great celebration of life to silently watch this phenomenon. What do you mean sing with it? That’s confusing and takes effort, something we’re not accustomed to. We would turn it louder to cover your useless suggestions and chatter, except it’s already at maximum volume, and would also involve getting up and pressing a button since remote controls weren’t invented here yet.

What you read: I got a great bargain on Indian food for my dinner the other night.
What’s really going on in my mind: Well, I’ve been sick for a few days and I’m finally feeling better, so I’m going with Indian tonight. Ooh, here’s a good deal! 2 dishes plus chappati, a soft drink (and the carbonation will help my stomach), and dessert. Not bad. I’ll order.
Oh, so the woman who suggested the deal is handing me a phone. Perfectly normal. So I just repeated my order on the phone to some dude, which I admit isn’t at all creepy since really, who needs to walk in back to the kitchen a few steps when you can just make a phone call? The man on the phone says he “respects my decision.” Hm. I don’t hear any kitchen sounds either, which is only creeping me out a bit.
Ah, just got my order, and apparently my bill is now higher. They’ve put me on the phone again. Takeaway is a different price, you see, but they didn’t bother to list it. Whatevs. Great. Oh, and a banana is dessert. Oh, and bottled water apparently is a soft drink. Interesting interpretation in this part of the world. It is also the worst Indian I’ve ever had, and I’ve really only had bad Indian food once in my life. Next time I’m asked to speak to the cook on the phone three times, I’ll eat at a different place.

What you see: I don’t think Cambodian food can get much worse.
What’s really going on in my mind: …but the drinks are AWESOME! They have so many creations that luckily (almost) outweigh the bad food. They’re probably all good because they start with a large dose of sweetened condensed milk, which, next to a block of 100% pure, unadulterated lard or a cube of fois gras, is the next worse thing for your system.* So they have street fruit shakes with spiky mangos, persimmons, cheyote, custard apples, and many other fruits I’ve never seen, different powders and milks, bubble teas, milk teas, tapioca teas (none of which have any tea in them, of course), syrup drinks, etc. Etc. All mixed in a cocktail shaker to make you feel special. Dang, they’re good. And a common meal supplement. I miss them terribly. Maybe three a day wasn’t good for me though.
*Not an FDA-approved statement

What you see: My private little boat captain makes all these funny gestures when he’s smiling and talking to me in a language I can’t really understand, so I just smile and nod.
What’s really going on in his mind: That was easy! I have a new wife now.

What you see: Southeast Asians are liberal with their rules.
What’s really going on in my mind: No traffic rules. No “no nose picking in public” rules. No “don’t put your feet on her seat” rules. No personal bubbles. No private space. No men who don’t hit on white gals. No “you must sleep in the seats, not on the floor in the aisle of the moving train” rules. No moto/tuk-tuk/taxi drivers who don’t make you want to rip your hair out. No rules, but in Vietnam, a present from above. Toilet paper, free and meant to be used in your guesthouse bathroom. I’m in love.

What you see: My buddy and I went on a trek through the Cambodian jungle with a guide and a ranger.
What’s really going on in the ranger’s mind: Well I don’t know why these foreigners come on holiday and want to sweat and hike through our pseudo-jungle. Plus, they get all decked out in those hiking boot things. Me? I do it in flip-flops, because those are the only shoes that exist here. What do people think of the trekking? Well the trek is pretty but if you count in the part about how it, like every other rain forest and primary forest growth in Southeast Asia is getting torn down, it’s not as nice as it seems, and add in the fact that the deforestation has ruined the animal population and that during our entire trip in the jungle, we don’t see a single animal other than a frog and or a tiny lizard, no birds, no wildlife, no nothing. At least I know where I’m going. Except for now. No, I do know where. Well, now I don’t know. Ok, now I do know. But be prepared because I might get us lost again…now. You enjoy backtracking, right? Is it me, my wrinkles, or my chain-smoking that makes the girl digs me? I think she’s attracted to the fact that I brought approximately 120 ciggies with me on our 3-day jaunt. And had to wake up at 4 in the morning to get my fix. Yeah, she’s definitely into me. Sick, going after men my age.

What you read: I had to sleep in a “dormitory”-type room in Saigon.
What’s really going on in my mind: I’m totally okay with how things went. Upon looking for a cheap hotel for my last night in Saigon (now Ho Chi Minh City, but the names are used interchangeably), I find exactly what I’m looking for, a.k.a. the cheapest room in town. “Oh, sorry, no one else staying in room now,” the woman says, handing me the key sadly. I get a room that is about 1000 square feet. All to myself. Sweet, though it’s stressful trying to pick which bed to sleep in.

What you read: I took a 1,200 kilometer, 3-day-long train ride through Vietnam.
What’s really going on in my mind: “Why you take train? Why no fly?” they ask me when I try booking at a tour spot. “Why no bus? Train long!” they say at another. “Why we can no speak English?” at yet another. Well, the reason I want to take the train is because I have very little time left in Vietnam, want to see up north, and hear it’s a wonderful way to see the scenery. So I book a ticket in a “soft seat,” a.k.a. no bed, just a seat. I do this because I want the real experience, because I’m cheap, and because I know I’ll only meet foreigners who can afford the expensive sleepers if that’s where I stay. And also, it’s not three days of travel. You leave really late the first night and arrive before sunrise on the third day. So really, you’re only using up one day, though admittedly not getting the best sleep. But boy is it a great experience. I sit next to a man who knows some English and talks with me quite a bit, I have a seat with actual leg room, and I’m meeting interesting people, to say the least. A group of 35+ soldiers (the soccer-playing, beer-chugging, happy Vietnamese kind) sit right next to me and take up all the seats in front of me, so to say that I am an object of fascination to them would be an understatement. Some of them speak some English, and are quite happy to ask me many questions. Oh, did I mention the scenery? True, we travel during the night a lot, but during the day, our train goes right in the middle of rice fields, in between rolling hills, and along curving mountains above the ocean. These small, lonely beaches, with white, frothing water, set among the wild green mountains, are amazing. Seeing five of the same in the distance with the fog rolling in is incredible. I can’t wipe the grin off my face at having seen something so beautiful, and in a way one can only see by train. In the night, I wake up and can make out dark mountains and silvery, moonlit lakes right outside the window. I think I’m falling in love with the scenery here. Of course, while I’m taking pictures of this all, one by one many of the soldja men come to introduce themselves. It’s cute. Throughout the trip, we’re all sharing snacks. If I was a normal person, I’d barely have enough snacks for myself, but since it’s me, I somehow have enough to feed almost all the guys. As I laugh, eat, and chat together with these extremely kind young men, it dawns on me that just 40 years ago, we were killing each other and winning praise for doing so. These guys, knowing full well that I’m American, are just as welcoming as could be, and we are very sorry to see each other go. They are the true people of Vietnam—friendly, helpful, and lovely. It has been an amazing train journey.

Well folks, I don’t know how that read, but I do know that some of you read my last update very closely, for several of you noted that I’d had two questions marked #13, and only one answer. I did this for several reasons, but mostly just because I was being annoying, had nothing better to do, it was numbered 13 (which, in Sideways Stories from Wayside School, doesn’t exist), it actually happened on Friday the 13th, and I really thought we were going to crash.

So now I’m on the last leg of my trip. I have only one week left! Unbelievable how time flies. Whether you like it or not, I will be arriving in JFK next Wednesday night. If you want anything that doesn’t involve prostitutes, prostiboots, or prostitots, let me know! This might include souvenirs, pictures, t-shirts, or hookers.

I’m off to explore Hanoi, Vietnam, in my last week here. Please forgive this lame attempt at a note…I was sick, come on!

Talk to y’all soon,
Coop

My Southeast Asia Trip Part 7 (and I didn’t get eaten by a tiger)!

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Hello all,

Well, it’s just about time to leave Cambodia. I didn’t even get a chance to go to Laos, which I had included in my itinerary, but that’s all right. My revised schedule now gives me more time in Vietnam, so I won’t complain. Yet.

Ok, so now it’s time for the “What are you going to annoy us with this time, Coop?” portion. Which is, to say, this entire note. Well, ladies, gentlemen, and hermaphrodites, it’s time to truly do something interactive. Remember those practice SAT tests you used to have to take? Yes, it’s test time. Please keep track of your score so that you can be sure to feel bad after an undoubtedly poor performance. Don’t worry; there are hints, answer keys, and even explanations so that next time, when it really counts, you don’t fail so badly. Not that you’re going to do poorly.

Because of the nature of the practice questions, the number of answers might range from two to five. Sure, this might affect your probability of getting a problem right by guessing, but then again, you should be relying on skills and not guessing, right? So many excuses, and you haven’t even started the test. Gotta improve your atttitude, dude.

Let’s start, shall we? Try not to exceed 40 minutes per question.

*****TEST START*****

Please pick the best answer:

1. Most wrong food seen since day 1 of my trip:
a. Fried cockroaches
b. Live skinned frog
c. Alaska reindeer dog
d. Sardinian maggot cheese

2. Newest dessert crisis:
a. Not having it
b. Having real sugar used instead of corn syrup
c. Lumps of odd jelly-coconut-rice concoctions topped with shaved ice and a raw egg

3. If you enjoy those holes in mini-golf where you hit the ball, it disappears into one
of several chambers, and then comes out in a surprise location and usually seems to
roll way right of the hole, then…
a. You should try hitting into a different chamber next time
b. You should have one a free game
c. You totally spelled “one” wrong there, idiot, but I guess spell check is always right, so nevermind
d. Mini-golf is exactly like real golf, right?
e. You’ll love bathrooms and sinks in Southeast Asia because when something goes down the
drain, you never know where or when it will re-emerge. I got a surprise the other day.

4. Euphamisms used by non-English speaking individuals, translated, and referring to
me:
a. “Big girl!”
b. “You have a big daughter”
c. “Strong”
d. “Sir”
e. All of the above

5. Decade my hair is in on this trip:
a. The 90s
b. The 00s, which don’t sound cool
c. It will always be stuck in the 80s

Answer key, problems 1-5:
1.
(c) A and B were expected, but the reindeer dog still scares me. D doesn’t exist here, silly. But it does exist.
2.
(c) A raw egg. Come on!
3.
(e) Just let it be and where protective clothing next time.
4.
(e) Old news
5.
(c) (Don’t) look at any photo of me to verify

CONTINUE:

6. Worst retaliation at a roadside stop:
a. Being called a cracker
b. Being told you’re pretty
c. Being cut in line many times when you really gotta go
d. Having a live tarantula put on you if you don’t buy fruit or bugs from the whining young hawkers

7. Horns, which are used on a basis of about 6 honks per minute, honk in what two
intervals?
a. m2 and octave
b. P4 and P5
c. M3 and tri-tone
d. unison and m6

8. The game show, “Let’s Stare at the White Chick” is not an actual show played in
which countries?
a. Just Malaysia
b. Just Cambodia
c. Just Thailand
d. All of the countries above, plus America and every other country I’ve ever visited

9. Cambodian food is so varied and unique, it’s as inventive as…
a. Dyson was for vacuums
b. Swiffer was for brooms
c. Something else really inventive that’s not cleaning-related
d. It’s not varied or unique at all. It’s boring as eep.

10. Cambodian food is so repetitive and unflavorful, in fact, that to see a food one
hasn’t yet seen by the third day in the country means…
a. You’re dead
b. You’re deaf, but since this has nothing to do with it, you have no taste buds.
c. You’re blind
d. You’re both deaf and blind
e. Though warranted, it’s unfair to insert a Helen Keller joke here, given that the woman
accomplished far more than most of us every will, starting research organizations, campaigning for
civil rights and liberties, travelling the world, becoming an author, and much more.
f. Insert Helen Keller joke here.

Answer key, problems 6-10:
6.
(d) The Khmer food at the Ithaca Farmer’s Market is a million times better than the stuff here. Plus, there’s variety, which is something the people here don’t quite understand.
7.
(a) Duh.
8.
(d) Obviously.
9.
(d) Yeah, it’s unfortunate. I was excited the first day, but quickly realized that everything after that was the same.
10.
(e) Be prepared to tell me an awesome Helen Keller joke to redeem your point

Analogy:

11. Thailand is lacking in bread : crime ::
a. I am lacking in portion control : sad
b. Cambodia is lacking in everything : life
c. Just a and d
d. Just a and b

True/False:

12. I’m exactly 12 hours ahead of EST.
a. True
b. False

13. I really, truly, have finally gotten a tan.
a. False
b. False

****END SECTION****

Okay, so this is really obnoxious, but it only gets worse from here. Start your practice timer now after a 15-minute snack break, preferably during which you should consume some type of food you know I can’t eat here and then brag about it in some RE: email.

MATH

****START SECTION****

13. If you’re on a bus in Cambodia and there are two motos and a car in front of you
going 83 km/hour, plus a truck coming towards you at 91 km/hour, what will your
bus driver do if he’s only capable of accelerating 3 km/second and there are only
114 metres between the first moto and the oncoming truck?

a. Pull out a calculator to measure the time until impending doom
b. Keep driving
c. Close his eyes and pray to Buddha while snacking on some dried fish strips and caressing his belly
like Khmer so enjoy.
d. Triple pass for no particular reason.and not pull back onto the right side of the road until the
truck and the bus are two seconds away from a head-on collision

14. What is the square root of i?:
a.
There are two square roots of i: (1/[square root of]2)(1 + i ) and (-1/[square root of]2)(1 + i)
b.
Should I know this? No, really, it looks like a joke question and as if it’s fine I don’t know it
when I first look at it, but if I look closer I realize I studied this in skool and it’s not that hard, and
now I feel guilty and dumb for not remembering, and I don’t even want to continue this test and
don’t know why I keep answering these questions. I think I’ll stop. After the next one.

15. In the capital city, Phnom Penh, I…
a. Got grabbed at by taxi drivers and had to physically tear them off of me and my bag
b. Got attacked by a crazy man with a screwdriver
c. Got hit by a moto while crossing the street
d. All of the above

No, seriously, I’m 150% serious when I say I don’t even have a semi-serious injury from being hit by a moto.
a.
150% minus 50% for the “semi” in semi-serious means I’m 100% okay.
b.
150% divided by 2 for the “semi” in semi-serious means I’m only 75% okay.
c.
Neither of the above rules apply, because semi-serious doesn’t include missing limbs, which I don’t have, missing, that is, plus, how can one be over 100% of anything?
d.
Wait, where was the actual question?
e.
C and D

Answer key: Problems 11-15:
11.
(d) I miss good bread. Also, Cambodia unfortunately has little to offer.
12.
(a) Now you can definitely plan when not to be online.
13.
(a) or (b) I carry the rare gene that allows me to get skin cancer in a fraction of the time it takes tanners to do so.
14.
(a) Technically the right answer, though in pre-practice tests, 86% of the participants picked (b). Then committed suicide. Only 27% of those attempts were fruitful.
15.
(d)
Non-question question: (e)

READING COMPREHENSION

****START TIMER****
Please read the story below:

I went to an island with a travel buddy. We got a bungalow with a bathroom. We took a long bus ride up to the jungle after that. Then we came back to Cambodia’s capital city, Phnom Penh. I had fun. I write good.

Please answer the following questions and choose the best possible answer according to the story above.

16. While going to the bathroom in the beach bungalow, I encountered…
a. An unexploded land mine
b. A scorpion
c. Someone’s missing arm
d. A mini Procompsognathus

17. When on the bus trip, I asked the bus staff when we would stop for a bathroom,
and in response, the bus promptly…
a. Stopped at the next rest stop, clean and complete with toilet paper
b. Pulled over one minute later at a luxury patch of brush on the side of the road

18. When given bathroom stalls to use, Cambodian men prefer to:
a. Pee on the way to the stalls
b. Step around to the back of the stalls and go there instead
c. Pee in a third location that’s smack in public
d. Pee at any of the above locations, then lift their shirts and rub their bellies as either a way to
cool down or show off their stunning nastiness

19. While dining in the jungle, the meat used for meals, despite being a few days old
and (of course) not refrigerated, was perfectly edible because, quoted from our
guide:
a. “I never get sick.”
b. “I just cooked it the other day and it doesn’t smell.”
c. “I just killed the possum.”
d. Insert some other choice else here when you’re not being hit on by Nigerian men in the internet
cafe in which you’re typing. It really is hard to think, and he just proposed to me

20. After exiting the bush after my multi-day jungle trek, I emerged with:
a. A pre-engagement ring from the amazingly attractive, chain-smoking, teeth-stained, gaunt,
nasty old ranger
b. The amazement at having seen two wild elephants, a wild tiger, and a leprechaun.
c. 72 cuts, scrapes, and bruises on my body
d. 72 cuts, scrapes, and bruises on my body, plus three Brangelina-inspired adopted Cambodian
kids.

Answer key: Problems 16-20:
16.
(b) Oh, COME ON. I know a scorpion isn’t as exciting as the other choices, but come on, I saw a scorpion!
17.
(b) I can’t even describe it. Oh, and it happened about 4 more times on subsequent trips.
18.
(d) Best answer, and the belly patting is grosser than the urinating.
19.
(b) or (d). Equally correct and good choices.
20.
(c) Adopting normal Cambodian kids is so last year. I’m waiting to adopt until I can get a feral child from the African bush.

****END TEST****

How’d you do?
1-20 correct: Have you looked in a miror lately? Yeah, you shouldn’t.
21 correct: You cheated, not unlike how Jamal Malik did in Slumdog Millionaire.

I hope you learned a little something here. Don’t feel too badly about doing poorly, okay? As long as you use what you learn and do better next time. Will there be a next test? Of course not, but be prepared just in case.

Since I was on an island and also in the jungle, I really didn’t get a chance to get online. I’m in Cambodia for only one more day, and then it’s off to my last stop, Vietnam! I’ll be coming home in December.

I hope all is well, and stay away from (a) motos, (b) H1N1, and (c) Alaskan reindeer dogs that aren’t certified kosher.

Much love,
Coop

My Southeast Asia Trip Part 6 (and I haven’t stepped on a landmine yet)!

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Dear friends and family,

 

I know it’s been a while since my last email, and I apologize for that. I have been quite busy going here and there and exploring all over. What I’ve noticed, other than my expanding figure, is that many of you seem confused by the various terms I use. “What in the world is a ______, Kathryn?” Or sometimes it’s, “You managed to do WHAT in a ______?” So to help make it easier, I’ve made up a dictionary of sorts of Southeast Asian terms. I know it’s not in alphabetical order, but I just wrote a word down when I thought of it, and that’s what you’re reading. There are two sections for your viewing pleasure: Words and Numbers. I hope that by reading this, you’re able to learn a few new words and numbers in the Khmer, Thai, and Malay languages. Enjoy!

 


Words

 

Bed (phlawhr) – n. ­– 

a place on which to sleep. Surfaces include cement, tile, wood, bamboo, or other cuddly materials

 

Mat • tress (yous´ – less) – n. – an optical and physical illusion taking place where an inviting sleeping cushion actually provides no padding and serves no purpose

 

Clean (???æ¡??) – ? – No entry found; origin unknown

 

Sizz • ler (dohn’t´ – goh´) – not a tr.v.. – a once-popular steakhouse and buffet chain considered delicious only by faulty childhood memories. Occasionally spotted in unfortunate American towns. Recently spotted in northern Thailand. Avoid at all costs. Any consumer will want to kill him or herself after consuming any food or liquid at this establishment. This is a fact

 

Ice – Cream (r??ce´ – dr??m) – n. – a sweet confection messed up by Southeast Asia. Eaten with bread and rice in Thailand, but messed up further in Malaysia. Considered shaved ice mixed with rosewater syrup, coconut milk, and tamarind juice atop rice threads, several kinds of beans, and corn. Also considered wrong

 

Cock • roach • es (eh´ – vr?? – wear) – n. – a visual weight-loss supplement

 

Tail • gate • ing (th??s´ – ??z – tooh´ – cl??hs) – tr.v. – traveling in one moving vehicle dangerously closely behind another moving vehicle, allowing the follower a closer encounter w/ a water buffalo’s posterior than ever desired

 

Ro • ti – Ca • nai (wear´ – ??n – n?? – yourk´?) – n. –  the new favorite dish of a certain fatso. Not commonly found unless in Malaysia, where it’s served at Indian-Malaysian restaurants. Consists of the most delicious, chewy and multi-layered warm flatbread and served with spicy dhals, chicken gravies, beef curries, and more. Costs under $1 before conversion.

 

Fat (koop) – pl.pl.adj. – Kathryn Cooper

 

Fatter (koop nowh´) – pl.pl.adj. – Kathryn Cooper now.

 

Obese (wurks´ tooh) – pl.pl.adj. – a multi-purpose word used to describe Kathryn Cooper spanning any time period between the last 10 years and the next many decades.

 

Mul • lets (hear – tooh´?) – pl.n. – an unfortunately common site in Malaysia, most often found on middle-aged, creepy, and single Malay men waiting to prey on and/or grope Kathryn Cooper

 

Air – con • di • tion • er (nawt – n??s – wahl´ – h??ng- ??ng) – n. – Infrequent Usage – a stagnant, unattractive wall decoration

 

Toi • let – Pa • per (1.) ??hn´ – l?? – ??hn – dr??hmz or (2.) shr??dz´ – ??hn – s??´ – k??ndz – n. – Infrequent Usage – 1. (rare) a thin sheet of semi-absorbent paper product intended for use as a cleansing wipe for the buttocks. 2. (common) the familiar roll serving a different function, and doing a rather poor job

 

Pa • per – Tow • els – see Toilet Paper (2)

 

Dish – Tow • els – see Toilet Paper (2)

 

Tis • sue (spr??d – jermz) 1. (futuristic) a thin sheet of soft, semi-absorbent paper meant to catch anything blown from the nasal passages. 2. (common; no relation to word) a lack of said material, leading to public nose-picking and snotting over any balcony or deck

 

Mon • gol • i • a (??z´ – nt – tooh – l??te; alt. sheed´ – f??ned – ?? – whay) – n. – a place recommended to Kathryn Cooper as the one possible country where, due to a likely lack of good food, she might not gain weight.

 

Wear – Pa 

• ja • mas (f??´ – sh??n – m??hst) – v. –what the cool crowd does. A true kind of full-frontal fashion in Cambodia. Previously thought of as simply a comfy night outfit, and now all the rage as all-day, high-fashion, functional wear. Note: Must be worn in a bright, jewel-tone color with a ridiculously child-like print, especially when worn by a grown woman. Matching top and bottom required

 

Numbers

 

 

9 – various Indian flatbreads (entire pita-sized cipatti and pouri) that Kathryn once ate for a single dinner. Served with freshly made yogurt, curry, and multiple desserts

 

3 – typical number of workers outnumbering actual patrons at your average guesthouse (hostel), restaurant, or mini-mart in much of Southeast Asia, due to  overstaffing and a lack of need to work or do anything other than talk with friends and sit in hammocks all day

 

19 – mosquito bites gotten from typing part of this email the other night on an outdoor computer

 

1 – stinging ant bites gotten on the neck from sending this email out tonight

 

26 – seconds spent wondering why there’s a dude sleeping on the pool table next to this computer

 

348 – seconds spent sadly pondering the fact that the pool table is a permanent sleep solution for the dude, considering the fact that he’s got a whole blanket and pillow setup with a mosquito net on top of it all

 

2 – times in Cambodia that Kathryn Cooper has been called “sir,” quickly followed by a giggle and then, “ma’am.”

 

0.7 seconds  –  the time delay between turning on a Thai or Cambodian “open drain” bathroom sink and then feeling everything that went down the train splash onto your feet

 

0.5 seconds  – the time it takes one to remember that what just went down the open drain is about to splash onto one’s feet, at wish point it is generally too late to do anything except accept that your feet are about to get another dose of spent flouride

 

 

So now that you’ve learned a few new terms, I hope you can start to incorporate them into your everyday language! Just try one word a day, and in no time, you’ll be speaking like a local and gaining weight like a Coop.

 

As you know, last you heard I went snorkeling in Malaysia for several months. Actually, it was for less than a week, and though it was wonderful, I was eager to get started on my next volunteer project. This one had many parts, and had me doing photography, videography, farming, gardening, cooking, and much more. I lived with several Chinese families, an Indian family, mixed groups, Aborigines, and others. I spent time in several different parts of Malaysia, getting to work right under the Petronas towers, on farms, in the jungle, and around limestone cliffs.

 

It was such a beautiful experience that made me so, so glad that I’m on this trip. There’s nothing I’d rather be doing right now, and there’s no replacement for what I’m learning on this adventure. From the good to the bad, the exciting to the downright nasty, I’m thankful for every experience. Because I stayed the majority of the time with one woman (who ran most of the non profits or had the connections to every location I volunteered with in Malaysia), I got amazing insider advice on the true beauty, and the true problems, within Malaysia. From the logging of the rainforests to religion to communism, I was told stories and histories I never had a clue existed. My host wouldn’t even let me search online or type about any of these issues for fear that the government had her home tapped. One night when she was telling me one story in particular, she was convinced that a man sitting next to us in the restaurant was listening in on our conversation and possibly targeting her for rebel activity. Interesting highlights in Malaysia include the most sketchy train ride and Malay man ever, a crew of the biggest potheads I’ve ever met (including several elderly and teachers), an Indian New Year festival where I may not have blended in, and a man who explained my entire personality to me without even talking to me. Did I mention the hammock that broke with me swinging in it? Or the bamboo palace I camped in while staying on the property of a man who believed in another dimension and married a mentally retarded native because he believes he was his wife in a past life?

 

Anyhow, Malaysia had to come to an end, so it was off to southern Thailand for a bit and then into Cambodia. It’s mostly traveling from now on, so there will be fewer “local” or insider stories, and likely less ranting from yours truly. I better run now since I’m on an outdoor computer in Cambodia, getting eaten alive by more mosquitoes. 

 

I love all the messages you guys send and all the points y’all bring up in your emails, so keep ‘em coming!

 

Until next time,

Coop