Cambodia: Day 3

During our third full day in Cambodia, we woke up early enough that I was able to catch Steve Nash nonchalantly dribble through a series of staggered mannequin defenders and deliver a one handed bounce pass into a netted target. This was NBA All-Star weekend, and I was happy to catch a few minutes of basketball, no matter how arbitrary the competition. Watching him maneuver effortlessly through the obstacle course got me thinking about my brief encounter with the two-time MVP- my only real celebrity encounter (conversely, seeing Derron Williams got me thinking about how much product the dude must lather onto his his lid. Have you seen his hair? It seriously looks like someone poured motor oil on a freshly cropped poodle).

This was 2007 at the height of Nash's popularity. I was in Phoenix for a work conference and decided to stay the weekend to visit my college buddy Greg, take in a Diamondbacks game and eat a ton of great Mexican food. I love Mexican food. Unfortunately, the few friends and family who know me extremely well (along with people next to me in an elevator or long flight) are aware of my penchant for horrendous bouts of flatulence. Obviously, Mexican food exacerbates this personal problem.

All of my dormmates in college shared a special bond over music, sports, movies etc., but our shining legacy will always be the smell that still permeates those walls nearly a decade later. We were all firm believers in the theory that if you never lifted your leg and pushed a dirty fart in the direction of one of your friends, how good of a friends can you really be?

We lived on the first floor without windows on either side. While the other three floor could air out their hallway, we had no such luxury. The end result was a mixture of ass, balls, feet, puke and protein powder. Basically, it smelled like John Wayne Gacy's crawlspace.

So, given our history, I figured Greg would be impervious to my poop-gas. He was, to a degree (he only mustered a few dry heaves and between gags coined the brand "Hugo Anuse" because I had earlier stolen a few sprays of his Hugo Boss cologne), but I don't think his mom was. I am pretty sure that I turned her white walls tan, or at least beige and am consequently banned from all Mexican food in Phoenix- even Chino Banditos fusion Chinese/Mexican restaurant (sweet and sour chicken quesadilla anyone?).

Anyway, later that night after I hosed myself down, we headed out to Scottsdale to meet up with a few of Greg's friends. We went to a nightclub that was extremely trendy and out of my comfort zone. There was a strict dress/no fart code. At about 1:30 or so, as the place was about to close I went to the men's room. My phone rang. It was Greg.

"Dude, Steve Nash is here, I just saw him walk by. Hurry and get out here."

At that moment I looked to my right and saw Steve Nash peeing two urinals down. I went to the sink and washed my hands for about triple the amount of time I normally would. The restroom attendant was extending paper towels closer and closer, enticing me to finish up, but I was onto him. I wasn't going to pass up my first ever celebrity encounter. When Steve finally approached, I offered this:

"Hey man, I am a Blazers fan, but I love your game."

He looked at me with his drunk eyes and said "Hey, thanks man. I really appreciate that."

And that was it. Kind of anti-climactic, I know, but hey, at least I got to keep my streak of talking about inappropriate bodily functions alive.

When we were leaving, Steve walked past us wearing shorts and black, low-cut Chuck Taylor's (two time MVPs don't need a dress code). He was with a woman who was not his wife, but he did not leave with her. Also, he isn't an inch over six feet tall. I say 5'11". The best part was that there was a nice Cadillac Escalade with a driver waiting and we thought for sure it was Nash's, but nope. He went directly to an ABC cab. In retrospect, maybe we should have offered him a ride, taken him through a drive-thru, taking him home to wake up Greg's dad so he could have said hi...

Back in the hotel room, I didn't even have a chance to find out if my old buddy Steve won the skills competition or not. We had a busy day ahead, and breakfast was upstairs waiting. As I mentioned before I had the Khmer breakfast of dried fish, dried egg and rice porridge. Thank goodness for the bland porridge because the fish and egg were very salty.

The first place we visited was Bakheng Mountain, the number one tourist spot for viewing Angkor Wat from a distance and sunset. We had seen pictures of all of the crowded tourists and it was a madhouse. Not our scene at all. We went in the morning and my number one goal was to ride an elephant up to the top. Unfortunately, there were no elephants to be seen at this particular time, so we hoofed it up on foot.

The temple at the top featured steep, narrow steps that you had to walk up sideways and was undergoing quite a bit of restoration. There was a pretty good view of Angkor Wat from the top, but it was a little hazy out.

 In this picture I think that I am flexing to try and make my arm bigger, but it only accentuates the fact that I have tiny forearms. Maybe it would help if I did some reverse grip curls...or if I didn't have narrow wrists like a girl. Also, you can see Angkor Wat in the background.

 Sadly, no elephant rides for the Boyds. Maybe another time.

Next we visited the Cambodia Landmine Museum. This project was started by a former child soldier of the Khmer Rouge whose job was to set landmines. He claims that he set thousands of land mines and hundreds of innocent victims were either killed or seriously maimed because of the work he was ordered to do. If he had refused, he would have been killed.

He later fled to Vietnam, joined their army and fought against the Khmer Rouge. He now spends his time deactivating the same land mines he planted and has created an orphanage to help the families of those who have lost loved ones to mines, or have been maimed themselves.

Some of the pictures in the museum are quite graphic, and it was a sobering experience to learn of the atrocities that took place in the country that we were growing fonder of by the day.

One of the more interesting facts we took back with us was just how heavily bombed Cambodia was during the Vietnam War. The Vietcong crossed the border into Cambodia as part of the Ho Chi Minh trail. The Khmer Rouge was able to use the U.S. bombings as a way to rally support.

 
We also learned that the U.S. has refused to sign an anti-landmine treaty that has been signed by over 150 countries because it does not offer a "Korean exception." Landmines are a critical component of our military strategy in South Korea.

In stark contrast to the Cambodia Landmine Museum is the Angkor Butterfly Center located just up the road, which we visited next. The goal of the center is to preserve the butterflies native to Cambodia. It was also created as community outreach to help develop the community. Locals farm these butterflies and sell the pupae to the Center.

I wanted to take pictures of every butterfly that landed, but they were pretty pesky, also Sami was hungry and wanted Mexican food. I thought back to my time in Phoenix, and hoped this time would work out a little better. We stopped back at the hotel before going out to eat, and the All-Star dunk contest was just starting. Perfect timing.


Coming in Part 6: Lake Tonle Sap

Ice Cream Bar

I was inspired to write this after a friend sent me a step by step explanation of how you become owned by a sandwich.

I have eaten very few sandwiches here in Korea, but I have consumed many an ice cream bar. Lately I have become borderline obsessed with this little guy.

If you eat this the conventional way, by holding the stick and taking a bite out of the top (and really, what moron wouldn't? I am convinced you can give it to a monkey and it would hold the stick and bite the top. Maybe one of the dumber monkeys would use two hands and eat it like corn on the cob. Stupid monkeys.) it tastes like coconut. Not raw coconut, sweetened mind you.

Sami says that it doesn't taste like coconut, rather ice-milk, but I say baloney. If anyone knows about coconut and all its glory, it's me. I am the coconut master. I'll prove it:

Almond Joy is my favorite candy bar and my favorite cake is German Chocolate (after ice cream cake and any cake with rainbow chip frosting. Oooh! and red velvet cake too. Or any really moist chocolate cake, but none of that store bought crap! Anyway, after that German Chocolate is my fave for sure. Wait, cheesecake isn't really cake right?). Proof enough?

As the Coconut Master, I declare the flavor of the start of this ice cream bar to be coconut.

 Just look at that heavenly coconut (non-ice milk) glow

It is funny because I used to hate coconut as a kid and now I love it. It is that way with all of my favorite foods: onions, tomatoes, mushrooms...I am even beginning to be able to stomach cantaloupe, which would have been unheard of even a few years ago (by the way, I apologize for throwing in talk of mushrooms and tomatoes when we were in cake and ice-cream land. That's just wrong).

Basically, I am beginning to pride myself on enjoying, or at the very least tolerating everything made out of food. Except the other day I bought some dried octopus "jerky." It was black and tasted like a cross between Beech Nut chewing tobacco and the ocean's anus. I gave it away to a couple of my students the next day and they reacted as if one of Willy Wonka's golden tickets was tucked away in the tentacles. They love that stuff.

After slurping down the coconut ice milk, the bar reveals its first pleasant surprise- a hard chocolate shell. I prefer to take a delicate bite of the outer shell and carefully avoid the encased ice cream. The feel and sound of the cracking of hard chocolate on my teeth is quite pleasant.

The second surprise lies just underneath- cookies n' cream. Because plain old vanilla (or coconut) would have been too easy.

 Gettin soupy! It is blurry to me because I am drunk on flavor.

Now I am not going to lie and say that C n' C (the flavor not the music factory) is my number one. I am and always will be a mint chocolate chip guy. There is no mint chocolate chip here in Korea though. At least I haven't found it. I dunno, maybe it reminds them of toothpaste or something. If you see green ice cream it is either melon (ew) or green tea (which tastes like barley).

Speaking of, I remember reading that Timothy McVeigh's last meal was two pints of mint chocolate chip ice cream. Not a bad choice considering the only thing that could cure an ice cream headache after two pints is a jolt of high voltage electricity to the temple. Still, why not go pulled pork sandwich, mac n' cheese, baked beans AND the ice cream?

However, even though it is not my first choice, cookies n' cream is always a hit and I can prove it: I know you have your favorite Blizzard from DQ- mine is Heath bar and, of course, Banana Cream Pie is a refreshing seasonal summertime treat- but no matter what it is, you always go back to Oreo and it never disappoints.

So that's it. Nothing but the stick left. It only took three minutes (okay two) to ingest three separate desserts, magically frozen into one bar. I want another one. At 700 wan (about 65 cents) I just might go for it.

Say Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh

Cambodia: Day 2

 The undisputed highlight of our honeymoon over Christmas and New Year's was a tour of a local Fijian village, inland on the island of Viti Levu. We initially viewed this Sigatoka River Safari excursion as an unwelcome respite from reading paperbacks, applying sunscreen and sipping cocktails in one of the most beautiful locations in the south Pacific- something to do just to say we did it. However, immersing ourselves in the culture of the local villagers and seeing the simple way they lived and loved  and welcomed us into their home had a lasting impact on us. From now on, whenever we traveled, we would search for this feeling of authenticity. We would do our best to learn more about the world we live in through the places we visit.

So with this in mind we eagerly anticipated the countryside quad riding tour Sami had planned for our second full day in Cambodia.

A rooster in the alleyway on the other side of our hotel room wall woke us before our alarm did. The folks at the Kazna were kind enough to serve us our breakfast a little before the official restaurant opening. My potato omelette was good. I never asked, but I imagine Sami's eggs and toast tasted the same as they did the morning before.

This was a half day tour, and I was happy that we were going in the morning. The afternoon heat was brutal. I wore jeans and a long sleeve shirt to shield my translucent skin from the sun's harmful ultraviolet rays.

We arrived at the house that served as a business office for the tour guide, loaded up with water, mounted our four-wheelers and were briefed. Turn the handle toward you to accelerate and keep a safe distance.

We safely navigated between hordes of kamikaze beat up trucks and motor scooters through the busiest intersection on the edge of town. The pavement turned to gravel, which turned to red dirt. All of the fields next to the road were perfectly flat with worn grass and weeds. Palm and coconut trees jotted through the landscape along with simple, beat up houses (many on stilts to protect from flooding) which contained private vegetable gardens.

I was immediately drawn to the animals. The white cows interspersed throughout the meager fields were much thinner and taller than the beefy, corn-fed variety I've grown so accustomed to in eastern Oregon. There were also pigs, dirty, skinny dogs and oxen. The most curious creatures to me were the horrendous looking chickens that roamed the land freely with their chicks. They were comically skinny with wart covered faces.

The children also made an impression. The sound of our motoring ATVs acted as siren calls to the kids and they would come sprinting to greet us- some of them clothed, some nude. Every time we passed a youngster they waved excitedly and shouted "hello!" They were almost as happy to see us as our Korean students are every day at school. Almost.

The fact that these kids were at home waving at us and not in school was not lost on us. Later in the week, while we were visiting temples we were constantly bombarded by local children to purchase souvenirs. We were certain that there must be some adult somewhere putting these cute kids up to it, but what can you do? Since the last of the Khmer Rouge was defeated 10 years ago, the tourism industry has boomed in Cambodia. In a country where the average family lives on $2 USD a day, of course it makes sense to capitalize on the boom.

We had the privilege of visiting an orphanage along the way and got to meet a couple of the orphans who live in the quarters set up there. When I asked one of the boys what he wants to be when he grows up, he did not hesitate.


"A tour guide," he said.

That told me all I need to know. Not a doctor. Not a professional athlete. A tour guide. At this point in time a tour guide is the most prestigious position in Cambodia.

After our trip, we spent a good portion of the afternoon visiting the Angkor National Museum. Being in the presence of sandstone Buddhas carved nearly 800 years before the U.S as we know it was even established was mind blowing. It is also unfathomable to imagine how a dynasty so primitive to ours can have the foresight to organize hundreds of thousands of people to move rock hundreds of miles away over 30 years to create Angkor Wat. Absolutely incredible.

Back on Bar street that evening, Sami and I decided to stop by one of the fish foot massage pools on the street. These are pretty popular in Korea too, but in all of the pictures I have seen, they don't have nearly as many fish as these on the street in Siem Reap. The little guys were hungry and aggressive and absolutely pulverized the dead skin on our feet. My girlish screams, a result of the torturous tickling, turned heads from all passers-by.

Finally, on our walk back to the Kazna, I stepped in to a barbershop for a quick buzz. As the skilled and confident barber whacked away, undeterred by the language barrier, I couldn't help but think how fortunate I was to experience something so completely different than anything I had ever been exposed to before. This, combined with my time spent the Fijian village, had strengthened my resolve to see as much of the world, and as many different cultures as I can. My life, as I knew it less than a year ago had completely changed. I wanted more.

But first, it was back to the Kazna to order the next morning's breakfast. While I am on the authentic kick, why not order the traditional Khmer breakfast- rice porridge, dried, salted fish, dried, salted egg and fruit.

Coming in Part 5: Lake Tonle Sap

Finding Serenity in Korea- Yellow Sea Island Biking

Our initial plan was to take a weekend biking tour of Seonyudo and the surrounding islands off the coast of Gunsan in the Yellow Sea with a large tour group. However, once we finally got around to registering online, all of the seats had been reserved.

We decided to try it on our own, and couldn't have been more pleased with the outcome. This was easily my favorite weekend spent in Korea so far, not only because of the unique location and picturesque scenery, but because, for the first time, we were able to shake the endless noise of bumpy crowds and find peace in our adopted country.

To reach our island getaway, we rose at 5:00 a.m. and caught the bus to Express Bus Terminal in Seoul where we bought a ticket for Gunsan. We met two of our friends in Guri (where we live) and two more at Express Bus Terminal. Three of our friends are teachers around the same area we live in, and the other is a Korean pharmacist. All four are female, laid back, easy to get along with and as happy as we were to be escaping the city.

The ride from Seoul to Gunsan took about 4 hours. Halfway down, we stopped at one of the famous, bustling rest stops, and I became drawn to a miniature military doll that danced and played music on top of a food cart.

In Gunsan, we took the taxi to a ferry to the islands. The ferry left at 12:30, and we got to the islands somewhere between 1:30 and 2:00. We should have been tipped off to the fact that we were pretty much going to have the islands to ourselves. The ferry was nearly empty. (That is our friend Jessica behind me in the picture below)

The ride from our ferry to the pension (motel) was kind of interesting. The owners had arranged for us to be picked up, and by picked up I mean thrown in the back of a van to sit on our luggage. I cowered down on the floor and hid myself, pretending to be an illegal crossing the Rio Grande.

Our pension (pictured below) cost 70,000 wan, or roughly $10 USD each. We rented bikes for the same price (for 24 hours use) and rode off to first explore Seonyudo Island- the island we would be staying on.

Bicycling was a liberating experience. One of the things I miss most about home is being able to get in a car and drive anywhere. Not having a vehicle has been a pretty easy transition, but I can't wait to get behind the wheel again.

It didn't hurt that the weather was spectacular as well. This winter Korea received more snow than any other year in the past 100. It snowed 8 inches one night in March, just a few weeks before this trip. The cold Siberian winds had been relentless since November so the mild 50-60 degree weather on this trip felt downright balmy.

I have never been a huge biker. I think I was 9 or 10 when I first learned how to ride, which is pretty embarrassing. I remember falling and getting a rock stuck in my hand.

Despite my status as a relatively novice cyclist, I managed quite well. I fiercely tackled steep inclines and pedaled circles around the all-girl crew. One of our friends from New York City rode around very shakily at first. She had learned to ride as an adult, and was lacking a little confidence. I had fun barreling toward her at top speed and abruptly slamming home the breaks inches from colliding.

After exploring Seonyudo, we pedaled uphill and over a magnificent bridge to Jangja-Do Island.

At the top of one of the cliffs, I found a nice grassy spot to take a nap. Before I dozed off, I took a final gaze out at the seaweed farms and marveled at just how far away I was from Oregon. Then, dreamytime.

At sundown we retreated to our pension where the girls (minus Sami) cooked up a delicious hodgepodge of foods foreign to Korea- A seven bean soup and a pesto pasta with vegetables and tomato sauce. We even had tuna salad with mayonaisse. Mayonaisse I tell you!

Someone had recently been to Costco and scored a big box of cookies- the kind with 3 varieties: chocolate chip, oatmeal, and white chocolate macadamia nut. As the official cookie judge, I inhaled one of each and instantly declared oatmeal raisin the winner. 

If my 9 year old self could have peered into the future, he would have been mortified and probably start to question whether it was worth it to carry on with life. What kid in their right mind would ever choose oatmeal raisin over chocolate chip? Well, I must tell you little Joey, that your taste buds will develop someday and you will begin to know the joy of butter and cinnamon. You will know happiness when you squish the greasy oatmeal goo around in your mouth along with the sweet and sour burst of raisin, and it will be good.

The next morning I rose early, back and hip bones sore from tossing around on the hard, heated floor, and searched the island for an outdoor restroom. I had no intention of stinking up the bathroom that five girls were soon to alternately occupy. 

Even with our crappy camera, I was pleased with a couple of pictures I took of the island in the early morning as I searched for a port-a-pooper.

 

After an oatmeal cookie breakfast, we rode out to explore Munyeo and Sinshi Do Island. We visited with a group of oyster shuckers, and later with a Korean couple clamming in the wet sand. We cheered them on as they performed their choreographed ritual. The husbnd would rake back the wet sand with a garden spade to reveal small holes the clams use to breathe. Then, he would pour salt into the hole. After a few seconds, a skinny, brownish, razor-like clam would emerge like Carrie's hand from the grave. The wife would swiftly pluck the clam out of the ground and toss it a bag with the others.

 

Further on down the road, we came across a school playground. There was a basketball hoop a few inches higher than 7 feet, so I found an abandoned ball and flushed it down hard with two hands like I was Dwight Howard. I did that a few times and experimented with different celebratory dances. I banged two balled fists on my skull like I was Darius Miles. I mean mugged Sami as if I were K.G. I eventually settled on placing my hand on top of my head with fingers extended in the air, calling it "the shark."

 

After a few more dunks and a spin on the merry-go-round it was time to soak up the scenery on the way back to the pension. Good-bye peace and calm, hello pushy subway riders and neon lights. I will consciously neglect the details from our return to the city. Lets just say it was about seven hours too long. 

It is better to focus only on what a great experience we had at Seonyudo Island. I would like to hope that someday we can go back to shuck oysters, dig for clams and bike around eating oatmeal cookies from Costco again, but somehow I feel it just won't be the same. There might be a big tour group staying in our pension, pounding the soju and disrupting what should always be a quiet, relaxing island ride.

Conquering Durian

I will eat pretty much anything and like it. Living in Korea has only reinforced this borderline obsessive personality trait. I think nothing of happily slurping what others may find repulsive- from fermented fish to congealed ox blood. Today's lunch soup featured at least a half dozen unidentifiable tentacled sea creatures. I loved it.

Naturally, when I first learned of durian, I knew I had to have it. Native to Malaysia and the Philippines, durian is also grown in Thailand and Cambodia. It is commonly referred to as "the king of fruits" due to its immense protein content. Some people are truly obsessed with it, and consider it a delicacy, as it is comparatively expensive.

Most find the taste and smell horrendously foul. A fellow sightseer at Angkor Wat compared his durian experience to "eating rotten onions over a ripe garbage pile."

We sauntered through each of the covered markets on Bar street looking for souvenirs for co-workers and ourselves- silk scarves, Angkor Wat t-shirts, handbags, flags and cutlery. We nervously attempted to improve upon our bargaining skills, eventually learning to just ask "one dollar?" for every item, and then meet somewhere in the middle of a buck and their asking price. I kept a wishful eye out for durian during each excursion.

When I saw what appeared to be durian, both whole and neatly wedged, I bought a hunk. Surprisingly, it was only one dollar. No bargaining necessary. We took the fruit outside to an isolated grassy area and I ordered Sami to film me taking my first bite. It didn't smell bad at all. In the video I described the taste as something very similar to banana laffy-taffy. I was puzzled. What is all the fuss about? Something ain't right.

When we got back to the hotel I did some quick research. It turns out I was eating jackfruit, not durian. I promptly erased the video and all evidence of my fake and foolish conquest.

These three two pictures are of jackfruit, not durian. The picture below is of me with a bag of jackfruit.

As with most things in life, if you really want something, ask someone who knows. I abandoned all thoughts of finding "the king of fruits" on my own and had a local take us there. I paid $5...or $10, I can't remember, the point is we found it. The woman tending to the stand was even kind enough to carve the flesh out for me.

Each section of meat is about the size of a twinkie, but not nearly as heavy to pick up. I remember the color being a light key lime pie green, but I guess pictures don't lie and it is yellow. Each piece has a large, flat, woody seed.

I took my first bite in the back of a thuk-thuk, riding through the dusty streets of Siem Reap. The outside was stringy, and more solid than the very thick, warm custard of the inside. It smelled sweet, like cantaloupe or some sort of melon, but the taste was completely different. The flavor immediately brought to mind that of canned corn. I could taste garlic and onions as well. It coated my mouth like something starchy would and left me thirsty. It wasn't that bad.

I stored the leftover durian in the fridge and when we came back to it, the whole room smelled like dog poop. I could hardly bear to choke down a few more pieces before, sadly, I discarded the remains.