chris altman

liesel speaks from the airplane

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Sun, 03 Apr 2005 11:27:00 +0000

(I'm sorry this post is so late in coming, but with jet-lag and the pressures of readjusting to my everyday responsibilities, I just couldn't get around to it.)

Liesel inflight: Singapore – Newark

The last day in Phnom Penh was absolutely packed with last minute things to do. As was mentioned at the front of our trip Sokkim had planned our first few days for us and none of Amy’s priorities were accomplished – primarily finding out as much about her father as possible. Monday morning I made a list of everything we needed to do and we set out from there.

Tuesday morning we took a trip to Olympic Stadium. Amy wished to find the exact steps she had been photographed with her father and nanny at age 2. After walking through the vast aging sports complex of indoor and outdoor gyms, we found the steps at the outdoor track. Amy and the cousins posed for several shots as well as me and Amy solo. In leaving the stadium we came upon some older women sitting outside one of the gyms. Sokkim started chatting away and the next thing we know, Sophal is translating that one of the women had known of Amy’s mother!

Throughout the trip, family history from the cousins hasn’t always matched up with Amy’s understanding of the family history. Ly Kry had mentioned previously that Amy’s birth mother had been a volleyball player, a contradiction to Amy’s understanding that she may have been a teacher or student of her father’s. One of the women relaying this information had been a volleyball player herself, and motioned with an outstretched hand holding an invisible volleyball and with the other hand, motioned a graceful serve. This woman was distinctively tall with gleaming white hair, not gray, but white. I am 5 foot 10 inches and all of the women I saw in Cambodia were shorter than me, so she and I measured up shoulder to shoulder and she was at least 6 foot , 1 or 2 inches.

We chatted with these former atheletes and tried to gain new information on Amy’s mother. We ended up leaving with not a lot of information, but with a new lead for the family history book.

Wednesday we headed to the outskirsts of Phnom Penh to meet a former colleague of Amy’s father. A very interesting gentleman, we discussed their professional relationship including the context of Cambodia’s history in the early 70’s before Pol Pot took reign. Much of the conversation became so detailed, Sophal could not keep up the translation, so we’ll find out what was said when we get the tapes transcribed back in the states. The translation stopped when this former professor had Sokim, Kry and Sophal transfixed on every word. I assumed a new angle on Cambodian history was being relayed and it was important for them to learn and for us to listen to his summary later.

Wednesday afternoon and evening were blur of last minute errands including a visit to Phnom Penh’s night market where we hoped to get some last minute souvenirs and silks. The night market turned out to be a modern mall, 5 stories of contemporary fashion, music CD’s, electronics and even a food court. The last thing we wanted to experience was a mall, but we ended having a great time

peh-&-penh

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Wed, 23 Mar 2005 10:59:00 +0000

peh-&-penh
Originally uploaded by honeybeealtman.

These two beautiful women are Cambodian traditional dancers who will be touring the U.S. for the next eight weeks. I met them during a rehearsal at the Royal Academy and we met them for dinner later that night. They are both amazingly talented, smart, charming and outspoken. It was a pleasure hanging around with them and I hope to be able to see them when they perform at Wesleyan in April. I'm hoping we can go out to dinner together again, but they may be kept under lock and key while not performing, for fear that they will defect.

Yesterday morning we went to Olympic Stadium to recreate one of Amy's favorite pictures of her and her father before he sent her out of Cambodia. As we were searching for the exact spot the picture was taken (without the actual photo), Amy's aunties struck-up a conversation with some people hanging out at the stadium. Turns out that they Knew both her father and biological mother.

We went and sat with 3 very tall and striking Cambodian women--professional volleyball players back in the 60's and 70's. Apparently, Ly Kim Long was a volley ball afficianado, who frequented Olympic Stadium and always brought gifts and prize money to give to the winning team. He is well remembered. They also remembered Amy's birth mother--also a professional volleyball player and instructor, and set up a meeting with us the following morning.

After Olympic Stadium, we went the University where Amy's father was Dean of the School of Letters. They set up a meeting with us for later that day. Then we took a tour of the University and found all the old buildings that Amy remembered. By the time we got back to the hotel, I was suffering from heat stroke. 4 hours of hand-held video shooting in this heat, with the camera heating up as well, took it's toll. I was in the hotel-room salivating, shaking and dry-heaving for the rest of the day.

Amy's meeting with the current Dean of Letters and a former student of Ly Kim Long's was fruitful. He promised to set up a meeting with her and one of her father's colleagues from back in the day. This man, also a former Dean of the University, had escaped Pol Pot because he was married to a French woman, and had moved to France during the previous regime.

We met with him this morning. His was the first air-conditioned home we experienced in Cambodia. He is quite well-off. His was also the first place where we saw a personal library. His name is Prum Moal and he was a professor of ancient literature. Like Ly Kim Long, could probably read Sanskrit. He had many books in French, on Linguistics and Semiology.

While talking to Amy about her father, he went into teacher-mode and gave her family a much-needed lesson in Cambodian political history. It was a really fun morning, though I began to feel sick again.

This afternoon, after a long, long, cold shower, I interviewed Ly Sok Kim and Ly Cree. There was no translation, we just came up with questions and had the interpreter read them. The women answered in Cambodian, without interruption and Amy plans to have this translated when we get back to the U.S.. During this time, Amy, Liesel and Bill are at Cambodian National TV getting interviewed. I am waiting for them to get back now, so we can go have a good-bye dinner somewhere.

Tomorrow we go back to Singapore.

amy-with-instrument

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Mon, 21 Mar 2005 11:26:00 +0000

amy-with-instrument
Originally uploaded by honeybeealtman.

We are back in Phnom Penh. Although there was an internet cafÃ© right next to our hotel in Battambang, I rarely used it because I was either too sick or too tired. I woke up yesterday with a lung infection and began antibiotics right away. I am already taking so many medications, and the side effects, along with my frustration at the heat and at some locations in Battambang, have made me quite irritable.

Yesterday morning we were seen on Cambodian National Television. I hope to get a copy of the story, as there was a nice shot of me filming the reunion at the airport. The piece was short and well done. Amy is in contact with some French journalists to discuss the possibilities of a longer interview for a feature story. We think it could be good for securing funding for the documentary.

On another note, our interpreter, Sophal, confessed to us that Amyâs Cambodian family is obsessed with our breasts. From what Iâve gathered, Cambodian women wear heavily-padded bras regardless of their breast size or age. They are shocked that our breasts are allowed to move with our bodies, and that our nipples are visible through our clothing at times. They ask each other, "Why donât these Americans wear bras? Look at how their chests move, when they walk. Look how low their breast are!" We have attempted to explain that we do wear bras, but it has been made clear that whatever it is we are wearing, it is NOT classified as a bra here in Cambodia.

Today we went to the National Museum of Cambodia. There were signs telling us not to touch the work, though I saw many Cambodian people disregard them. I was amused, however, to see birds fly into the building to jump around and shit on the ancient statues. I think about 70 percent of the pieces in the museum were classified as unknown period, unknown origin. The museum doesnât have the funds to date much of the work, or to supply a point of entry of interpretation for viewers.

Later we went to the Royal Academy of Fine Arts to watch a rehearsal of the premiere classical dance troupe of Cambodia. We saw a new piece that was funded by the New England Foundation for the Arts. I think it was named, âCulture Shockâ It interpreted culture shock using the traditional language of Cambodian dance. I really enjoyed watching the choreographer interact with her dancers.

We are having control difficulties with the Aunties again. The questions about how much we pay for everything here and back at home has become distressful and offensive to Liesel. Amy sees all these behaviors as cultural, but today Sophal was quick to say that it was not cultural at all. Please do not say it is cultural, he said. I have never seen anyone act this way! Just good old-fashioned bad behavior, I guess.

Back in Battambang, there was an incident where she locked the driver on the roof of her house overnight. He couldnât sleep for having to go to the toilet so badly. Not only that, but spirits tortured him through the night (Sok Kimâs house is reputed to have a ghost problem, but not for being old and having a long history, simply for the bad energy she creates).

Also, even though we told them our plans for today, Sok Kim wanted us to go back to the tailor. The tailorâs daughter is available for marriage, you see. We told her clothes were not a priority right now. This morning she called us from the tailorâs house to tell us she was waiting there and we must go to have our clothes finished. We are going to the museum and the academy, we said. Fine, she said, pick me up.

We got a little smarter today and had the driver drop us off at the museum and THEN go pick her up. Guess what? She didnât come.

Old-Auntie

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Mon, 21 Mar 2005 11:22:00 +0000

Old-Auntie
Originally uploaded by honeybeealtman.

Hello, Liesel here.
Back with the living again. The trip finally caught up with us. Bill, Chris and I caught a stomach bug and we have been living at the hotel in Battambang the last day and a half. I had it the worst and was knocked out in bed. Bill was able to make brief soujourns out of the hotel, and Chris was less afflicicted and took care of us both. Luckily, we came well stocked with our prescriptions. This is par for the course considering the myriad of foods we have been eating.

The day off in bed was a well-needed rest from our daily routine which was starting to take a real toll on everyone. Battambang has been all family, all the time. It has been truly wonderful, witnessing Amy connect with so many blood relatives who have welcomed her with such warmth, love and affection. Today, Amy gave the relatives the gifts we had brought from the U.S. Special thanks to my Aunt Penny, who packed my suitcase with added little items, like colorful stickers and pens which were a big hit and helped extend our loot for the many relatives who kept appearing during the visit.

Amy documented the family tree and Bill took photos of each family group (father, mother, children). We soon learned no photo could have three people. One, two, four or more, but not three, bad luck. In drawing out the family tree, it was sad to learn about the number of relatives who died during Pol Pot. This is a subject we have not treaded near, but did emerge during a conversation with cousin, Sok Im (pronounced Eem) not to be confused with Sokkim. As Amy continued drawing the family tree we asked about Sok Imâs family. She stated that her brother had disappeared in 1980. With this brief bit of information, our question had opened the door for Sok Im to let loose. As with most of our visits, there were multiple conversations going on in the room (just like home) and Sophal was translating another sideline question. Whatever Sok Im needed to get off her chest, she did, and ten minutes later she was still going, at this point sharing her conversation with other cousins across the room. Maybe we will learn what Sok Im shared in a future conversation.

The relatives live in a small village, called Tumal Gul (I am botching the spelling) about 35 km north of Battambang,. The drive door to door from our hotel to Sokkimâs takes about a half hour. The distance does not allow us the autonomy to come back to the hotel for a midday rest which makes for a very long day. Although Sokkim lives in a modern concrete house with light fixtures she does not have electricity at the moment, which makes dinner and evening socializing a bit hampered.

We go out to Tamal Gul in the morning, eat lunch and then rest on sleeping mats. Chris described the oven-like effect of the concrete house vs. the airy wood house, so our rests have not exactly been restful. Which leads me to speak about the heat. April is the hottest month of the year. We knew that coming in March would be hot, but with each day the temperature is exponentially hotter. I am not exaggerating. Celsius is not used as a gauge either. When we ask if it is 33, 34, perhaps 35 they shrug their shoulders. No measurement is needed or necessary, in Cambodia it is either hot or hotter. I have a prickly heat rash all over my hands that erupts at the hottest part of the day. I am consuming water constantly and we are rationing our packets of Emergency C powder which adds salt, and electrolytes to the replenishment mixture.

Tomorrow we head back to Phnom Penh. We said our goodbyes to the family this afternoon. Amy stayed behind to have dinner with the family this evening. Sokkim and Kry will go with us to the city until our plane departure next Thursday. I can not write anymore, I am past my saturation point and hunger pangs call.

Goodnight for now.

Battambang

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Thu, 17 Mar 2005 13:31:00 +0000

I'm sorry, but I have no photos to upload from the last 3 days. It was a long and bumpy road from Siem Reap to Battambang. The bridges were precarious at best--impassable at worst. The roads were terribly dusty and we often had to go long distances without the fan because it would suck the road dust right into the van.

We stopped to have a big lunch around 1pm and by 3:30 we were eating another large dinner at Sok Kim's house. Her generator broke and she is loathe to buy a new one, so they have no electricity at the moment. She served an early dinner--because she didn't want us to have to eat by candlelight. Sok Kim's rice distribution business is quite successful, and she has built her large, concrete-block house a few years ago. The Cambodian countryside has been deforested, making wood homes too expensive to build. The nice thing about concrete and tile, is that it is easy to rinse off all the dust in the dry season. Unfortunately, concrete structures absorb heat from the sun all day and become unbearably hot. Sitting around with the family that first day in Battambang was the hottest moment in my life. Sweat was pouring off me and running down all the cracks--to put it nicely. As my clothes became stickier and stickier, they turn red with dust.

Finally, we were brought to our hotel sometime around 7:30 or 8:00. None of us felt very comfortable there, but it was too late to change our plans. There was no place in the room to lock-up our valuables, and the employees gave off a dispirited vibe. Upon checking in, I was quick to shower and turn the AC all the way up. I watched movies on HBO, but the TV was backlit by a large flourescent light. I got up to turn the light on by the bed instead. When I flipped the switch, everything in the room turned off.

I went to the reception desk to ask them to flip the breaker. They asked if I had plugged anything in. I said no. They flipped the breaker. I went back upstairs and turned off the TV and the AC and tried that light switch once more. Again, everything in the room went off. Back downstairs to reception. Now there was a big hulaballoo.

"Did you plug something into the wall?"
"No, I flipped on a light switch. There is a bad switch in the room."
The hotel owner and the man from reception went up to look at my room. I had the small camcorder and digital camera on my refrigerator. They both pointed at it, accusing me of plugging them into the wall. "I did not plug those in!" I demanded. Pointing, I said, "That switch is bad."

The owner shook his head. He ran down to the electrical box. The lights in the room came back on. The reception man smiled. I pointed to the switch. He took the bait. I became smug. "Oh...," he said, calling down to the owner to flip the breaker one last time. "you shouldn't use that switch, I think."

"No shit."

I was so tired, I fell asleep with the TV and the bathroom light on. I kept hearing dripping in the bathroom. I woke up a couple of times to see what was leaking, but couldn't find anything. At 5am I had to pee. Afterwards i noticed I hadn't brought the toilet paper into the bathroom, but that was ok, because the Cambodians use a kitchen spray hose to clean off their private parts and every toilet has one. I picked it up, and was just about to spray down there when I noticed that my hand was brown. The sprayer was leaking, the cause of that insistent dripping sound. I couldn't find it because it would travel down the hose and drip down the toilet. I dropped the hose and jumped off the toilet, fast as lightning. I looked behind the toilet and saw a puddle of what looked like raw sewage going down the bathroom floor drain.

Backing away from the toilet in shocked disgust, I ran to the bathroom sink to scrub my hands. The water flowed cleanly for only about 2 seconds, then went that horrible brown color. I sniffed my hands--they didn't smell like sewage. It was mud. It took twenty anti-bacterial wipes to banish the severe case of germ heebee-geebies caused by this experience. Early or not, I was going to go and complain to Amy and Liesel, but when I opened my hotel room door, there was a man sleeping there! I hopped back into the room, locked the door, turned the TV back on--watched a horror movie, and we checked out at 9am.

We are now staying at the Teo hotel, which has sparse, but pleasant accomodations and a nice restaurant. Yesterday, Sophal showed us his village, which was a wonderful neighborhood of wood houses on a stilts. They are alongside a lake that rises up to ground-floor level in the rainy season allowing them to jump from their rickety back porch, right into the water. Today Sophal took us to a sculpture school where young people get apprenticeships with a woodcarving master. I bought a large, elaborate carving, that I'm hoping I will be able to get home somehow.

We also finally found tailors to make us some clothes. We spent a couple hours in the heat of the market haggling, and I'm convinced it is not worth the trouble no matter how cheap it is. I'll let you know how the clothes come out. I'm having two shirts made, one of raw silk and one of cotton for $2.50 each. After that we went to the Auntie's house for lunch. Then we visited Cree's home on a farm. She has the nicest place so far. Beautiful, traditional architecture. The house is on stilts and the family hangs out underneath during the hottest time of the day. Cree's son took us on a Cambodian hay ride through the rice paddies in a wooden cart pulled by a tractor. It was fun, but all the bouncing combined with many careless knocks in the course of this trip brock my Sennheiser microphone. I'm more than a little depressed about that.

There have been some not-so-tentative inquiries as to whether we Americans might be interested in marrying Cambodians and taking them home with us. Our arguments against this haven't been very convincing, it seems. I'll keep you informed on any pending nuptuals.

Next stop: Batambang

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Mon, 14 Mar 2005 23:35:00 +0000

I was up bright and early this morning--5AM to pack my things and get an internet connection to submit my grant application. Liesel helped me edit it down to the bare bones needed to fit the character limits of the on-line form. I'm glad that I'm ahead a day here, because I thought the deadline was March 15, but it was actually midnight on the 14th! Right now it is 6:30 AM on March 15, but for you back in New England it is early evening on the 14th. Lucky me!

Yesterday evening, we went to a restaurant down the street for a buffet and show. It cost 12 dollars per person, quite expensive by Cambodian standards. The performance showcased classic Cambodian dance. We are planning to view a rehearsal of Cambodia's premiere dance troupe when we return to Phnom Penh.

Everyone is getting along well with the Aunties. They are picking up some English phrases and vise versa. It is clear that they are both strong, matriarchal personalities--very concerned about the cost of everything, and proud to drive a hard bargain. They have learned to compromise, as have we, but expect to be obeyed when they tell us to sit somewhere or eat something or buy this or that, or not buy this or that...

Supposedly, there are 80 relatives waiting for Amy in Batambang. We must stear clear of both real and cultural landmines there.

little-dry-frog

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Mon, 14 Mar 2005 08:08:00 +0000

little-dry-frog
Originally uploaded by honeybeealtman.

just as I was packing up my computer, I looked out the hotel window, and there was this little fellow. He must be hunkering down for the dry season. He looks dehydrated, but I poked him and he woke up. I know this isn't the greatest picture--i need a macro lens, but I wanted to share this little discovery with you.

sandstone-bas-relief

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Mon, 14 Mar 2005 07:53:00 +0000

sandstone-bas-relief
Originally uploaded by honeybeealtman.

Today we all went to the Cambodian Artisans School. It is a place where the skills and culture lost during Pol Pot time are reclaimed and taught. It was fun for me to watch bas relief sculpture, since I like to do it myself, but it was a little sad for me too, because the subject matter was all the motifs I've seen at the temples. There was no innovation happening. There was a gift shop at the school whose proceeds help support the institution, but the prices were klii na--too expensive.

Afterwards we stopped at the Siem Reap market. It had everything from food to gold. There was a room where all the jewelry sales booths were. The products were totally encased in glass and the room was dark and long. As I walked down the aisle, the sales women were quick to turn the lights on in there glass cases, always just as I passed in front. They were quicker to turn off the lights as i moved on. I imagine it must have looked like I was glowing, seeing as the light followed me where ever I went. I only had 17 dollars and I would never buy anything too expensive anyway, because they'd totally rip me off.

Today I learned how to say "dao sarea" to the beggar children--"go to school." I also learned come, come--"mao, mao" and hurry--"luen, luen," and right now--"ai lau."

I ended up buying a couple of Cambodian stringed instruments. I don't know what they are called, but they are played with a horse hair bow like a little cello. I was making quite a noise in the market, trying them all out to see which ones had the best tone.

Tomorrow we are travelling six hours to Batambang, where the aunties live. I have to go and write a grant proposal now. Talk tomorrow or the next day.

tourist-trap

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Sun, 13 Mar 2005 16:58:00 +0000

tourist-trap
Originally uploaded by honeybeealtman.

Yesterday we focused on temples in the jungle. One, a popular location, called Preah Kahn, is known for the huge trees which had taken root hundreds of years ago, atop the temples and walls. Their vast root systems, stretching out in search of the soil far below, engulfed entire structures in the process. It was interesting, but the experience was filtered through crowds of both tourists and vendors.

In the evening, we visited Ta Prohm, my favorite temple complex so far. Firstly, it hasn't been totally reclaimed from the jungle. Many people don't go there for fear of being eaten by a tiger. So walking through unmolested by other tourists or vendors, or begging children, with the steady cacophony of the jungle--ee ee ah ah ah ah, and whoop, whoop, as well as the piles of rubble that block many long passages, makes one feel like Indiana Jones. Where's my whip? The aunties were totally creeped-out by the place. As soon as the light began to fade, they ran back to the main entrance insistently calling CHREEEEST...CHREEEEEEEST!

But I didn't want to leave, because when the light faded, the bats came out of every passage, chink and crack. I first felt the echo-location pressure in my ears, and then I looked and they were climbing all over the walls, dropping off to flop around in the air. I was trying to get them on tape, which was difficult in the dark, but I probably have some good footage of them swarming around my head. One aimed for my head, but missed it by a few inches. I was wearing a grass hat so I didn't care.
I liked it there so much, we returned this morning. It wasn't as nice in the daytime. There were more people, I clocked my head pretty hard against a low archway that I didn't see above the brim of my hat, and there was a flock of children trained in the fine art of high pressure sales.

"Madam, ten bracelets foa two dollah, you buy from me? How much you pay Madam? You want buy bag, look bag, very niiii." It started when we met a young boy on a bicycle. He asked if I had a pen for him, I thought, "that's refreshing, he's not asking for money," so I found Amy and said give this kid a pen. She did. We chatted for a little while, introducing ourselves and asking about his schooling. His name was Ban Tuen. He was a pleasant, smiley fellow. Finally, we all went on our way, he, in an opposite direction from us. We crossed a bridge and on the other side, emerging from the jungle were all these little kids. They wanted to sell us a bunch of tourist crap. We didn't want any of it. After a while, we gave them each a bill of money, the equivalent of 25 cents. BIG mistake. Give and inch...

Once they saw the money, the pressure was on. I felt like the mama bird returning to my nest with a caterpiller. They followed us, walking backwards, under our feet, in our faces and who did I spot among them, with the saddest most hungry face? None other than Ban Tuen, who had doubled back to inform the village of the presence of Americans. One girl said to Bill, "Where you from?"
"US," he replied.
"That America?"
"Yes"
"Oh, you got money--big, big."
Ban Tuen acted as if we hadn't met him ten minutes earlier. I kept trying to talk to him like we had before, but he just kept asking me to buy a bag.
"OK kids, that's it. No more money big big. Bye-bye."
"But Madame, you didn't buy from mee-eee!"

detail3

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Sun, 13 Mar 2005 16:40:00 +0000

detail3
Originally uploaded by honeybeealtman.

Ankhor Wat is a vast palace and temple complex surrounded by a moat created by the mining of massive amounts of sandstone used to build the structures within. Bill says that taking so many pictures, he is, to a certain extent, distanced from the experience, so that he is freed up for some leitmotif interruption. This time it was a young man Jin, with whom I had struck up a conversation.

He had a narrow, almost fox-like face with the remains of a complexion problem, and the warmest, liveliest eyes. He was dressed in layers with a felt hat atop his head that he said once belonged to his grandfather, now in heaven. He said he lives with his mother, who has been suffering through bouts of malaria for some time, just outside the temple complex. His father had died in the war, from a land mine before ever laying eyes on him. At twenty-one, Jin looked sixteen and when he spoke of his father, his voice faltered slightly. Jin had easy, excellent English, though he said that his Khmer was a little slurredânot as pure as that of those from within the countryside. He told us that people from Phnom Penh laughed to hear him speak. When asked if this was because his accent betrayed some class distinction, he acknowledged that it might.

He knew a great deal about the bas reliefs carved upon the vast passages of the temples, as well as various methods of construction and preservation of the complex. He was open and honest to a fault. All the exuberance of that battle art, the action and the elephants, the generals and the kings, all vying for their rung on a descending ladder of power.

girlwithinsects

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Sat, 12 Mar 2005 07:02:00 +0000

girlwithinsects
Originally uploaded by honeybeealtman.

Hello,
Liesel here.
A little about the drive from Phnom Penh to Siem Riep, yesterday, March 10. March and April mark the end of the dry season, which accounts for the layers of fine red dust that cover everything. The landscape is very very dry right now and buildings, signage, plants, gutters, cars, look like they need a good soaking. Of course being dry, there are fewer, if any mosquitoes, which alleviates the malaria fear.

Phnom Penh is a city of primarily two and three story structures, densely built, side by side, with a long and narrow floor plan. A family usually has their business running out of the first floor, where merchandise and the family car share the same space, open to the sidewalk, with only swinging gates providing security after closing hours. The family lives in the rear of the first floor and primarily on the second and third floors. Most buildings are built of cast concrete, with a French railing adorning the faÃ§ade of the upper floors. To give a brief example of the mix of vernacular architecture, a typical house in the city mixes the former French colonial style with shiny stainless steel rails, mirrored glass windows, and plastic neon signage advertising the family business. A different combination, like no other city Iâve visited.

As we drove out into the countryside, concrete houses slowly transformed into wood or palm leaf shacks with tin roofs, often on stilts to avoid flooding in the rainy season. The houses were sited close to the road as dry rice paddies stretched far into the horizon. This particular region of the country does not have many trees. Palms, jacaranda, and many others types of tropical species dot the countryside, those that can withstand months of no rain.

Sophal, our translator pointed out the houses that were at at least 100 years old. The worn gray wood paneled walls with redish-black tile roofs were quite distinct, and a family shares what appeared to be about a 15â x 20â room. Of course, with such a warm climate, most living is done outside, cooking, conversing, and lying and sleeping in hammocks âstrung between the stilt posts.

The road between the two cities was in great shape, better than Boston, considering itâs pothole season back home. Minus any painted divider lines, driving requires an attentive eye to everyone and everything else out and about. Bikes, mopeds, motorcycles, cars, buses, trucks, cows, water buffalo, carts all share the road. We had the noticeable luxury of only having 8 people in our minivan. Most vans packed at least 13, with cargo and perhaps an additional couple of people on the roof.

We stopped for lunch at a roadside stop, a typical open air concrete pad with tin roof, tables and plastic chairs. After 5 hours of driving, we stretched and adjusted to the 90 degree heat, after the AC of the van. Sokkim motioned for us to sit down â and she ordered a delicious lunch of beef, rice, and big pot of soup and watermelon for dessert. A vernacular custom is to drop any of the detritus of the meal, bones, shrimp shells, and the like, including paper napkins, on the floor. The bones quickly disappear with a few quick dogs looking for nourishment, but the napkins remain until the days end sweep. After a few bus loads of folks stopping for lunch, the floor becomes a littered site of crumpled origami-like dots of white.

I must share, that at this roadside stop, I successfully maneuvered my first squat toilet. A lot different than camping!

As we continued on our drive, the vegetation became more dense and the rice paddies disappeared as we approached Siem Reap. The first sign of our arrival to the province was driving over a 1000 year old stone bridge with adorned railings of traditional carvings of serpent heads on either side. The bridge was a great photo op and would mark the introduction to a remarkable array of stone carvings and ancient architectural details that awaited us at the temples of Angkor Wat.

And more on Angkor Wat, later. Itâs time for some sleep.

Bye for now!
-Liesel

Amy and Ly Sok Kim

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Wed, 09 Mar 2005 23:53:00 +0000

Amy and Ly Sok Kim
Originally uploaded by honeybeealtman.

Yesterday we left for the market at 9AM. Amy wants to buy fabric to have her favorite shirt copied by one of Cambodia's expert tailors. Liesel is collecting beautiful fabrics for herself and family--Pam, she picked out something extraordinary for you!

I was very interested in raw silk and bought some. Amy's Aunties thought I was nuts and asked the salesgirl why she wasn't selling me smooth silk. The Sales girl told me that Cambodians don't like raw silk, because it is rough and unrefined. I told the girl that I like it because it was different than what I could get in the USA.

We saw all kinds of textiles. The Aunties helped Amy pick out an outfit. Shop keepers couldn't wait to tell Liesel and I that they had "Big clothes--you're size, try it on, try it on".

"This is good silk, sister--very beautiful, you want to buy now? Twenty dollars, no? OK, I give you morning discount, very good price. What you want to pay? Ten dollars? How about eighteen dollars, sister? You buy now?"

I bought a silk sarong that I know is polyester, some beautiful raw silks, and, from a land-mine victim, a cambodian/american dictionary.

After the market we went to the house of the tailor to commission her to make us some clothes. She was sick, so she couldn't do it for us, but we stayed to visit for a while. Her daughter, who was maybe 20 years old, was absolutely charming. She showed us a dress that she designed, and her mother stitched for her. She described her creative process for us and told us how she did the beadwork. We gave her the English words for all the sewing terms and types of beads. She asked if we would stay for lunch, but we declined, having a prior appointment with Dr. Lau.

We got dropped off at the Restaurant right on time, had a long and fruitful lunch with Dr. Lau, who had much good advice and information for Amy. Things couldn't be going better. At 3:00 we returned to the hotel for 3 hours of rest and alone time. Just when I breathed a sigh of relief--I'm going to get a nap! Auntie Ly Cree was at our door with the interpreter and Bill.

"I'd been waiting for you and Dr. Lau in the van all this time. Why didn't they invite me to lunch, Sophal? I have been waiting and waiting, I'm hungry, I'm tired. I wanted to go to the University with you. What are we all planning to do this afternoon?"

Now, I don't really know what she said, but you get the gist.

Amy's reaction was, "Oh, no--I'm so sorry, please forgive me. What can I do for you? What do you need from me?"

My reaction was, "Why the hell did she do that?"

Liesel's reaction was, "OK everybody, let's just stay calm."

In the end, after some tears from Amy, some ranting from me, deep breathes and calm reassurance from Liesel, and a little bit of the cold shoulder from Ly Cree, everything was resolved. No body got a damn nap, which is all we really want, though.

We Invited the Aunties to dinner at a restaurant. They brought along four young women, whose relationship to Amy we can't quite figure out, but who are absolutely sweet and charming.

Bill, has been teaching Sophal many american expressions. At one point during our dinner, Sophal replied to something someone said with, "I can't hold my horse, if you are pulling my leg"

Today we are travelling to Siem Reap. It is an 8 hour trip. We'll see how it goes.

viewSingStreet

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Wed, 09 Mar 2005 01:50:00 +0000

viewSingStreet
Originally uploaded by honeybeealtman.

View of Singapore Street

Trouble in Paradise

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Tue, 08 Mar 2005 23:15:00 +0000

We are having a difficult time setting limits with the family. Amy's relatives mainly consist of three sisters, Ly Sook Kim, Ly Meng, and Ly Cree. Ly Sook Kim is in charge. The driver and interpreter that Amy hired defer to her and not to us. We are out ot control.

Yesterday morning the phone rang at 5:59. "What time should they come get us?"
I suggested 1PM, hoping that I would have some time to acclimate myself, and knowing that once we were in the car with them, the day would fly by.
Amy told them to pick us up at 9:00AM
Up to our rooms they came.
"i would like to go to the University to visit Dr. Lau, see the monastery where my father was trained, and go to the market to have a shirt tailore," Amy said.
"Of course, of course, whatever you want," they nodded.
We got in the car and drove for an hour, watching the landscape get more rural. "Were are we going?"
"To the zoo, to see all the wild animals," our interpreter, Sophal, replied.
"?...and later we will go to the market?"
"yes, yes"
"OK"

"Amy, do we have any energy bars with us?" Liesel asked
"No"
"What is the matter?" Sophal asked
"We didn't bring any food to eat..."
"Don't worry, Sook Kim brought your lunch."

We pulled into a lane that was lined on both sides by cars parked underneath a long, stick structure with a reed covered roof. In front of each car was a low platform covered with grass matts. Behind the platforms were thatched rural dwellings with domesticated cattle and pigs in covered stick pens and planting fields. The inhabitants seem to be renting their front yards for people to enjoy holiday picnics. The sisters spread out the food and drinks and we sat around eating stuffed frogs and cicadas, with carrot and pepper salad and leftover beef from last night's dinner. People would come with baskets of fruit to sell, which the sisters would buy and instruct us on how to eat.

After we at the platform became a communal bed where we relaxed for a couple of hours in the shade, during the heat of the day. There were also little hammocks made of denim strips to rest in.

The picnic was lovely, although I was concerned about the safety of the food.

Afterwards we were very tired. It was about 3:30 in the afternoon. "Sophal, tell Ly Sook that we don't want to go to the zoo"

"You don't want to go?'

"No, we want to go to the market"

"OK"

After about a half hour of driving, Sophal translates for Ly Sook, "Many visitors like to go to the river, would you like to go to the river, before we have dinner at the house of one of Ly Sook's clients this evening? There is an entry fee, do you understand entry fee?"

Oh, no. Another tourist trap, we thought to ourselves. "No, we don't want to go to the river, We are tired, please take us back to the hotel"

"Are you sure?"

"yes, we have things to do before dinner"

A half hour later, we pulled in front of a house in a neighborhood of new expensive homes. "Where are we?"

Sophal explained, "Ly Sook asked to be dropped off here, so she can cook dinner, please come inside for a moment before you go back to the hotel"

Inside, we were shown to a large bedroom, on the way Ly Sook pointed to a bathroom with modern accomodations including a shower. "This is better than your hotel, you may rest here before dinner. After dinner, we will go to the market, then the monastery and then, at last we will take you to the hotel. Last stop." A tray of water and bananas was brought before us.

"I've had enough of this, I'm going back to the hotel, I have things I want to do, I need some time to myself," I said.

"Yes, I'm going back, too," Bill said.

"OK, you two take the driver and go to the hotel he will pick you up for dinner."

"It is dinner time now, I'm sick of being rushed to fit my personal things into this schedule, I'm not coming back for dinner! Look at Sophal, he's going to fall over, he can't be expected to work non-stop like this--I need an interpreter with me. He is coming back with me to the hotel as well."

We were brought back to the hotel. Amy and Liesel wanted to come to, but decided to stay behind after Ly Sook became very upset. The driver arrived at the hotel at 7:30 to pick us up for dinner. We had to refuse again. When Amy and Liesel came back at 9:30, they wrote out a schedule for today. They said no changes, what-so-ever. We'll see what happens

Reunion

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Tue, 08 Mar 2005 22:57:00 +0000

When we arrived in Cambodia, I filmed Amy going through customs until a police man told me that video of this procedure was not allowed. At that point a man came up to me pointed to my camera, and spoke to me in French. “Bill”, I cried, “I don’t speak French”
Bill, our photographer and a former French teacher, came over and spoke with the man. He was interested in my Sennheiser microphone, identifying it as a signifier of a “serious” videographer. He wanted to know what I was doing.

It turns out that this man is a French cinematographer. He was interested in Amy’s story for himself and gave her his card. Then a man approached from behind, he was with Channel 2 in France and was working on a TV project for Cambodian national Television. He wanted to report on Amy’s arrival as well.
He asked for permission to film her and she told him no, but that if he wanted to run a story on the news, he could get some footage from us. In the end he whipped out his camera and shot the reunion anyway.

Well, when we got through customs and immigration, we noticed that there was a throng of people waiting at a glass door that led outside. Amy was in front, and she turned around and said, “you have to film this…” When I looked, I realized that most of the people were gathered around one woman who was holding a gigantic picture of Amy’s face! It said something like, Sundari, your family and friends welcome you. Anyway, this group of people just engulfed her in embraces. They had brought leis for all of us. It was incredibly emotional and intense. Then they all crammed in a van and took us to our hotel.

They carried our luggage in for us, checked out our rooms, and said, you rest, we will be back at three. Amy and Liesel went out for a walk. I stayed behind to make sure my batteries were charged, unpacked and organized all my stuff and took a nap. I find that when I am away, I feel an acceptable level of control as long as all my stuff is totally inventoried and organized.

I brought very little clothes, so I have been washing what I’m wearing as soon as I get to the hotel room. This morning around 4:30, I couldn’t sleep, so I got up and took a shower. I stopped the drain, tossed in through my clothes in with a little woolite and stomped around on them while I bathed. They came out really clean. It was great.

Last night we had dinner at a relative’s home. They prepared a dish for us whose name translates to English as “the cow climbed up the mountain.”

Amy's cousin/auntie wanted to sleep with her in our hotel room. It has been very hard for Amy to say no and have that response accepted. Finally, we made it clear that we needed to be alone at night.

The Orchard Hotel, Singapore

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Tue, 08 Mar 2005 22:31:00 +0000

I just checked into the Orchard hotel in Singapore. It is posh by U.S. standards. The plane landed at around 6:30 this morning, It was a 19 hour flight, but, surprisingly didn’t feel all that long. We took off at 11pm and they fed us dinner as soon as we were at altitude. The plane food was excellent. Alcohol was complimentary in economy class. There was also a 24-hour snack bar at the back of the plane.

Entertainment consistied of International movies and TV on demand and this helped pass the time. I developed a cycle of 3 hours TV, then sleep for three hours then go to the snack bar and chat for an hour or so. Repeat.

Singapore, I am told, looks just like Honolulu, sans mountains. The city is absolutely immaculate and the highways are beautifully landscaped.

Because I’ve been brought along to document, this trip is tinged with anxiety. I feel I’m not allowed to relax and experience, since I need to be on the lookout for good footage. I’m constantly worried about access to electricity and whether or not the batteries are all charged for the equipment.

I plugged the power strip into the outlet adapter, then plugged in the AC adapter for my minidisc recorder. I smelled ozone as I was connecting the power to the device and then POP! The light in the room went out. I had forgotten to use a voltage converter and consequently blew the fuse for the room. I was so mortified, that I hid all my equipment to get rid of any evidence of wrongdoing. Then it occurred to me that I might as well fess up to my mistake, since most tourists are considered morons, and the staff must have to deal with this all the time.

Just then, the phone in my room rang. “Oh, no. They’re on to me!”
“Hello?...”
“We are calling to confirm your name.”
“Christine Altman”
“Christine Borla Altaman?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you ma’am, enjoy your stay…”
“Um, the power is out in my room.”
“Ma’am?”
“I plugged in the wrong thing and blew a fuse in my room. I have no power”
“Oh, may we send someone up?”
“yes, please.”
“thank you, Ma’am. Goodbye.”

That was easy enough

I gorged at lunch and dinner. It was a buffet with a wide array of cuisine from Mee Goreng to Macaroni and Cheese. Outside was like a huge mall. There was a Bennetton on every corner. A Starbucks in every building. And the prices were outrageous. There was wireless service available at 28 dollars. Or you could use the hotel computer for 15 dollars a half hour.
We took a bus ride in a loop around the island. Ate a late dinner, then crashed by 10PM. Up at 5Am to get the shuttle back to the airport to catch our 8:45 flight to Phnom Penh.

Hello, I'm Safe in Singapore

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Sun, 06 Mar 2005 23:45:00 +0000

I'm at Singapore airport awaiting my flight to Phnom Penh. Spent the night and previous day at the Orchard Hotel. Singapore is quite westernized. I would describe the country as a Mall. Our stop here was good, because it acclimatized us to the tempurature and time-zone, without worries concerning food or water quality, or other cultural issues.

I'm at the airport internet kiosk at the moment, with a fifteen minute limit. I promise to post a more complete journal and some photos as soon as I can get a real connection!

More to come...

goodbyeKiss

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Wed, 02 Mar 2005 22:17:00 +0000

goodbyeKiss
Originally uploaded by honeybeealtman.

Working hard to see how things fit in my bag. I have lots of room left over. I went a little crazy repacking all the items that came in boxes. Auggie doesn't really want me to go!

Now I have to organize all the video and sound recording equipment and various other technologies...

sweet-talk-dog

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Sun, 27 Feb 2005 15:31:00 +0000

sweet-talk-dog
Originally uploaded by honeybeealtman.

let see how this works

first test

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Sun, 27 Feb 2005 14:44:00 +0000

are we live?