History – Page 6 – fortykay.com

April 28, 2011

The Killing Fields

“Nothing should be this beautiful. The gods are playing tricks on us. How could they be so cruel and still make the sky so lovely? I want to destroy all the beautiful things.”

“The soldiers walked around the neighborhood, knocking on all the doors, telling people to leave. Those who refused were shot dead right on their doorsteps.”

The above two quotes are taken from “First They Killed My Father: A Daughter of Cambodia Remembers” by Loung Ung, a book I read before visiting the Choeung Ek Genocidal Center outside of Phnom Penh. The first quote is from the chapter when Loung mourns her father and the second starts to exemplify the cruelty of the Khmer Rouge. The Khmer Rouge ruled Cambodia between 1975 and 1979 following the Vietnam War, and during their rule, between two and three million Cambodians were murdered at killing fields around the country. This group did not stop killing until the late 1990’s.

At Choeung Ek, I learned of some of the atrocities committed by the Khmer Rouge, from their horrendous methods of killing women and children to their eradicating anyone that was slightly educated and therefore posed a risk to the regime. This is a sad part of Cambodian history, and originally, I had not intended to visit the Killing Fields, but after reading this book by Loung Ung and seeing the Academy Award winning film “The Killing Fields”, I felt Cambodia needed to share its story in attempt to prevent anything like this from happening again here and hopefully everywhere.

Monument at Choeung Ek Genocidal Center — This monument hold the bones of many who were murdered at the Choeung Ek Killing Fields.

April 26, 2011April 26, 2011

Angkor Wat

Angkor Wat at sunrise

Cambodian tourism is now synonymous with visiting Angkor Wat near Siem Reap, and that is where our Cambodian adventure properly began. Although Angkor was easily the most breathtaking, it is only one of hundreds of temples in Cambodia. The agenda for the two days that Nithya, Sangita and I stayed in Siem Reap was as follows:

Angkor Wat
Bonteay Kdei
Taprohm
Sunset on Prerup Temple
Sunrise at Angkor Wat
Banteay Srei
Banteay Samre
East Mebon
Angkor Thom
Bayon
Baphuon
Phimeanakas
Terrace of Elephant
Sunset on Phnom Bakheng

Monks in a Tuk Tuk

Luckily we had a very well-informed and nice guide, Dara Ly, to help us differentiate the above temples and ancient sites, which at first seem more “same, same” than “different”. In addition, Dara along with my travel partners, Nithya and Sangita, were all knowledgeable on the Hindu gods and goddesses that were carved throughout the temples. After my couple days in Siem Reap, I now know more about Shaivism, focusing on Shiva and the lingam, as well as Vaishnayism, focusing on Vishnu. And although most of Cambodia is Buddhist, many of the temples contain elements of both Hinduism and Buddhism as the control of the temples shifted throughout the years. At one temple, because I was wearing my Buddhist beaded bracelet and a red string around my wrist indicating that I had recently paid my respects to a Buddha statue, a monk came up to me, gently grabbed my wrist and said something although not in English seemingly kind and appreciative. Small experiences such as this help me better understand the importance of these historic Cambodian temples.

Temple reflection, Siem Reap

April 19, 2011

The American War, Revisited

The two spots I wanted to visit while in Saigon were the Cu Chi Tunnels, where the Viet Cong guerrillas hid during combat, and the War Remnants Museum. Both sites left a strong impression. I felt guilty though I played no role, ignorant though the extent of the American atrocities were not taught in school, embarrassed though I did nothing wrong, confused though the photographs told a clear story, and depressed though grateful for the exposure. I recognized I was being shown only one side of the story provided by the victors in their own country; however, even when recognizing a strong bias with prejudiced language, many of the truths of the war were evident.

While visiting the Cu Chi Tunnels, the tour began with an informational video. In the video I learned of the Vietnam “heros” and the American “angry white devils”. I learned of the Vietnamese struggle for independence, freedom and peace, and of their fearless sacrifices and hardships to achieve those goals. And although it was one-sided, I was able to filter truth out of what was being said. Crawling through these tunnels and realizing how much the Viet Cong suffered from the cramped spaces and high levels of malaria also reinforced their strong will to win the American War.

The American atrocities during the war, however, did not become frighteningly clear until my visit to the War Remnants Museum. Here, among other aspects of the war, I learned much about the American’s widespread use of chemicals including the infamous Agent Orange, which included dioxin. The American’s used Agent Orange as a defoliant to expose areas under the thick jungle canopy; however, the Dioxin has had horrendous effects up to the present time in Vietnam. The Vietnamese government claims overs 4,000,000 victims of this devastating toxin although the US still denies scientific evidence linking Agent Orange and the victims of dioxin poisoning. That said, the list of cancers, diseases, and birth defects caused by dioxin is too numerous to list. In addition, along with the use of Agent Orange, the Americans also used non-targeted bombs such as cluster bombs whose damage spread to both military personnel and civilians.

The War Remnants Museum powerfully told this story through photographs. Photos of children born with birth defects. Photos of people with limbs missing and with faces disfigured. Photos of women and children dead and lying on top of each other.

In addition, I visited the museum with Serhat from Australia who I met at the Cu Chi Tunnels, and with Hoa, my new Vietnamese friend studying in Saigon. An American together with a Vietnamese viewing the photographs throughout the museum heightened the impact of the experience. Hoa was so welcoming and so kind to me, and at the same time, we were both seeing images of how people from my country hurt those from hers. Knowing there was little I could do at the time, I focused on learning as much as I could from the photos and stories presented by the museum. This day forced me to see the American War from the victor’s perspective, and I felt obliged to do so considering it was the least I could do given what I learned.

April 16, 2011

My Son and The Boys

My Son is a Vietnamese name for a cluster of temple ruins that bears no relation to its English meaning. The phrase “the boys”, however, is intended to have exactly its American connotation.

In an attempt to avoid the tourists at My Son, I left in the mid-afternoon from Hoi An and pay a motorbike driver less than it would’ve cost for gasoline in my Prius to take me to My Son. On our way, we fly through narrow roads surrounded by rice fields and farmland, and during the hour drive, I learn the smells of Vietnam. I smell exhaust on the road, trash burning next to it, incense sticks, and occasionally fresh air. When we arrive to My Son, it was just as I had hoped and there are less than 10 tourists wandering through a space that could accommodate many more and still feel empty.

My Son black and white

With my camera in one hand and the Kindle version of Lonely Planet in the other, I navigate my way through the ruins trying to come with the perfect photo while still learning which building was intended for which purpose. After covering about half of the ruins, I find a group sitting in a circle and listening to music. It is unclear how everything progressed, but I soon find myself in their circle, we compare music tastes, and we share our snacks. I learn that they are all currently attending a university in a near-by town, De Nang, and are just visiting the ruins as an afternoon break from school. A couple snacks later, they ask my evening plans, I tell them none, and we decide that they should come back with me to Hoi An. Throughout it all, we communicate either very slowly in English or by writing notes to each other. They could understand almost anything I wrote despite having some trouble understanding me verbally.

Snacks at My Son

Between the five of them and me, we pile on four motorbikes and work our way back. I was particularly happy not to be driving at this point as the sky was turning black with only the almost full moon, the occasional street light, and the bikes less-than-powerful headlight to drive by. We get back to town, and the first thing we do is eat. I am not entirely certain what I am eating because we eat next to the street on what seemed light children’s red play furniture. The food was good and cheap. Dinner cost less than $0.50 per person. With full stomachs, we walked the streets of Hoi An, before coming across another inexpensive and local restaurant. We ordered beers, some fried food, and I took out my deck of cards. I let them teach me a new game because with our communication barriers, 5 teaching 1 is clearly superior to 1 trying to teach 5. During the rest of the night, I really enjoy the game and their company.

Card Games in Hoi An

The Vietnamese, both tonight with the boys and the other day with Quynh Chi, have been so welcoming and warm to me. In twenty years, I think it will be these faces that I will remember the most about my time in Vietnam.

April 16, 2011

Hoi An, Vietnam

Hoi An was just a short bus ride south of Hue. The food, feel and architecture of Hoi An reflects its many influences of Chinese, Japanese, Dutch, and Indian styles. This is especially true of Chinese and Japanese because for many years, they both regarded Hoi An as one of the best trading towns in all of Southeast Asia. And although the town’s prominance fell after the collapse of the Nguyen Dynasty, at which point the nearby town of Da Nang became a center for trade, Hoi An has escaped much of the damage that many other historical Vietnamese sites have seen over the last century.

Hoi An Chinese flag

Shop in Hoi An

April 16, 2011April 15, 2011

Hue, Vietnam

The Imperial City, Hue’s main attraction, reminded me of a beaten up Beijing Forbidden City. It’s grandeur, size and elaborate architecture were obvious despite the natural disasters and bombs that have left this great relic only a fraction what it might be. Between 1802 and 1945, the Imperial City was the capital of the Nguyen Dynasty.

Front gates of Imperial City

After a visit to the forbidden city, I walked the smaller, less touristy streets, and took a short ride on a boat down the Song Huong (Perfume River).

Perfume River

On a different note, the mix of influences from French to Chinese was clear from the variation in architecture around the city. This photo is the view from my bedroom window.

Hue bedroom view

April 13, 2011April 13, 2011

Vietnam and the American War

Growing up in the US education system, it’s almost hard to imagine that Vietnam has such a long history before the Vietnam War. The first time Vietnam appears in textbooks is in the chapters on the Vietnam war in the second half of the 20^th century. With a little extra research, I learned that Vietnam has a history stretching as far back as Paleolithic times—when humans were beginning to realize the advantage of using stone tools. There is recorded Vietnamese history as far back as a couple hundred years BCE before even the Chinese had consolidated Vietnam’s land into its empire. The Chinese then ruled for only about 1000 years—one full millennium. The ancientness of these places that I am visiting is hard to fully grasp. The recorded history of California if we go by the first European explorers is about 1550. There were of course the indigenous people of California, the Native Americans, before the European explorers; however, there is very limited recorded history from this long period. The first Vietnamese state arguably existed in the 3^rd century BCE, and America became independent only in 1776. The fact that I don’t know anything about Vietnam pre-1950 is embarrassing, and I wanted to at least learn some basics before arriving.

I skimmed through bits and pieces of Stanley Karnow’s book, “Vietnam: A History” to get an idea of this rich history so that when presented with its relics, I hoped I would have a larger appreciation of what I was looking at. I wanted to have a reaction when visiting sites other than those having significance from the Vietnam War.

However, given that I am an American in a country that has had such a difficult history with America, the Vietnam/American War cannot be ignored. The Vietnam War, lasting twenty years starting in 1955, is something I’ve heard about from my parents generation and read about in history class. I learned the bigger issues and the major players and why the US wanted to contain the spread of communism. I have been told about the controversy with US involvement and of the casualties that ensued. The 58,159 U.S. Service members that died is unfortunately a small number compared to the 200,000 plus Cambodians and undetermined but frighteningly large number of Vietnamese. The estimated numbers of Vietnamese soldiers and civilians that were killed during the war range from around 1,000,000 to greater than 3,000,000 people.

I come to Vietnam with an open mind, and from what I’ve heard, I feel that the sentiment is reciprocated.

March 28, 2011

Culture in Ubud

I came to Ubud because it is touted as a Balinese cultural hub, and not just because it received such positive reviews from Elizabeth Gilbert. Bali is such a culture-filled destination because as the Hindu states fell all around Bali, many of the intelligentsia fled here along with artists, dancers, musicians, and actors. As the only surviving Hindu island, the Balinese show intense pride for the culture and enjoy sharing it with the outside world. Having so many tourists leave their homes for theirs must reinforce their confidence in their unique and creative culture. In addition, throughout this Hindu rice-farming society, I saw daily offerings made using Banana leaves outside of homes, hotels, shops, and as far reaching as the top of the Batur Volcano.

rice field Ubud — A rice field just outside Ubud, Bali

more rice field — Another rice field near Ubud

Ubud is full of live music and dance performances both modern and traditional. I enjoyed sitting in cafes in the evening listening to drum-heavy music as well as attending two traditional Balinese dance performances. The Legong Dance, performed at the Ubud Palace, included gamelan music and ritual dance. The Legong Dance also included a mask dance, contemporary dance, and sacred dance. Another evening, I attended the Kecak Fire and Trance Dance where I will never forget the last scene of a dancer kicking flaming coconuts around the stage from what used to be a coconut bonfire.

balinese dancer — A dancer from the Legong Dance in Ubud

Ubud is home to many shops, but unlike most other places I’ve visited, there were less knock-off sunglasses and the like, and instead, many shops sold artwork and other cultural handmade Balinese craft. Window shopping became an enjoyable experience when simply walking through the store taught me about Balinese art. Unfortunately, Ubud is swarming with tourists who can make it hard to find an authentic Balinese experience, but I did meet some great people. Lauren from England and I went to one of the evening dances together, three German friends joined me on the sunrise volcano hike, Bruce and Carol from Vancouver who I had also sat next to on the plane bumped into me and we recapped our Bali adventures together, and Made, the driver to the sunrise volcano trek. His English was far from perfect, but his energy was high and he exuded such an optimistic vibe, that while helping him improve his English, I continued to learn about Balinese culture through his stories. Ubud, the people I met while staying there, and the places I visited in its surrounding areas are the ingredients that made for the hard-to-leave feeling I now have.

March 27, 2011

Amlapura

After 1 pool dive, 6 ocean dives, 4 quizzes, 1 exam, and numerous breaths underwater, I received my PADI Open Water Scuba Certification, and was ready for my next adventure. I wasn’t expecting the next adventure to come in the afternoon following my last dive. This was the afternoon that I hopped on the back of the motorbike with Dive Master Ketut and took off towards Amlapura. As soon as we exited Tulamben, the atmosphere surrounding the road and the vibe from the people felt more natural and more authentically Balinese. During our trip we stopped for a late lunch at a place run by some of Ketut’s friends and I tried some Balinese cuisine along with an Avocado smoothie. I was skeptical about a savory smoothie at first, but Ketut had one, and I was very pleasantly surprised.

Motorbike — Katut and I on his motorbike

Motorbike view — The view from Ketut's motorbike

As if riding on the back of Ketut’s bike wasn’t adventure enough, soon after we started, it started to rain. Luckily, because of the humidity and warmth, I was never cold, but little rain droplets hitting my arms and legs at 40 km/hr is not a completely painless experience. When we got to our first destination, the Water Palace, where the last king of Karangasem used to vacation, the rain had stopped and I explored the grounds of this Palace, which had ornate water ponds where most palaces might have gardens. After lunch, we continued on to the Water Garden, the spot where the king and his family would venture for day trips, and I jumped in one of the pools that was said to contain the equivalent of holy water and should bring me good luck.

water palace — The Water Palace in Amlapura, Bali

Before heading back, I purchased a durian, a type of fruit native to Indonesia that looks almost like a spiky pineapple. The edible part is the fleshy area around the seeds. I had heard that the durian can give off a very strong smell, and I later had the opportunity to experience said strength for myself when I left the durian in my room for a while. When I returned, the smell in the room was overwhelmingly strong. I then learned that in some cities, the taxi drivers will not allow passengers to carry a durian because of its strong smell. It had the texture and taste of a slightly sour banana. After realizing the smell was coming from the durian, I promptly placed it directly outside my room for safe-keeping.

March 27, 2011

Tulamben and the USAT Liberty

Tulamben is a small town in Bali built around a “major” highway, and the town extends about one kilometer. The air is quiet and still and yet there is still an excitement in the town for scuba diving. People come here from all over, and especially Australia, to dive. While in Tulamben, I learned to dive with an Australian family, I had breakfast every day with a nice couple from Sweden, and I bumped into the same German group of girls a couple times on the town’s only street. Although only there for five days, maybe because of the smallness of the town and maybe because of the friendliness of the people, I truly felt at home. I met a local named Gada from a restaurant called Sandya that had free wifi, so I usually ended my days here, whether for dinner, dessert, or just a drink. I made friends with one of the dive masters, Ketut, from Tulamben Wreck Diving and we spent an afternoon together touring around the local area on his motorbike.

big fish

Side Note: Birth order in Bali determines one’s first name. Wayan is the name of the firstborn child, Made for the second, Nyomar for the third, Ketut for the fourth, and then start back at Wayan or at least a derivative of Wayan. This, predictably, can make things a bit complicated because it means that more than 1 out of 4 Balinese will be named Wayan. The first person I met at Tulamben Wreck Divers was Big Made (pronounced “Ma-day”), then there was Boss Wayan, Dive Instructor Wayan, Dive Master Made, Ubud hotel Staffer Made, Ubud Hotel Manager Wayan, and so on. Adding adjectives before and after their names becomes critical.

Back to the town of Tulamben, it became a Scuba divers destination because of the sunken ship, the USAT Liberty. Although USAT might sound like some standardized admissions test or aptitude test, it actually stands for United States Army Transport. The ship was torpedoed by a Japanese submarine during World War II in 1942. Later, in 1963, a volcanic eruption moved the ship off the beach and into the water where it is now a popular dive site. Although I didn’t find any treasure, diving in and around the wreckage is awe-inspiring as coral and sea life has attached itself to almost every available surface. Big fish, small fish, red fish, blue fish, and more. I’d be more specific with the fish names and less like Dr. Seuss, but I honestly don’t know which fish is which.