I see the benefits of receiving orders now that I have none

Posted on August 3, 2011 by Brandig

My friend, Susan, attends a very liberal liberal-arts college. It offers no majors and has no class requirements. The intention, of course, is to remove all roadblocks from a student’s pursuit of their interests. I thought it sounded great. In high school and college I hated having to take classes I didn’t want. Also, I thought about the whiz kids whose gifts were being held back by requirement detours and the other students I knew who wanted to be in shop class but were forced to read Dickens.

Susan contrasts her college experience to her old days at a parochial boarding high school. There she had curfew. But Susan is a bird of her own feather (and a hard-working one) and would often stay up late studying. For this, she was punished.

I’m one to point out the negative repercussions of rules and regulations. I see the best in people when they are free to spread their wings, unfettered by policy holding them back for being “too young”, “too irresponsible”, or because “it’s too late to be up”. “Treat people like adults, and they’ll act like adults” I liked to say. Broad-brushing policy takes away a person’s sense of responsibility, I thought, and ultimately, takes away a bit of their humanity.

But there was a problem with my thinking. And it wasn’t that I was wrong; I just always failed to see the other side.

Very recently, I returned from a 7-day stay at a tai chi school on a mountain in Hubei Province, China. There, myself and the ten or so other attendees awoke at 5:30 each morning and were on the road jogging by 6:00. We practiced together; we ate together. Days were structured, directing my time and actions, and the group provided support (and pressure) to strive higher and stay focused.

And it benefitted me.

I could have done this activity on my own. I mean, it’s physically possible. I could’ve relied on my own discipline to get up early and out the door for a jog. But I hadn’t.

This admittance, though obvious, was significant for me, because my bias for seeing the wrong with rules has me react anxiously to any such attempts at grouping and restricting. But there I was jogging in the early morning, then practicing the tai chi movements over and over (after my mind told me to quit) at the goading of my trainer. I became more focused and present in all my activities, in fact. Restrictions and control may rub me the wrong way, yet my freedom at this school was restricted, indeed.

While there I read an article by Malcolm Gladwell about a program in U.S. cities to help the chronically homeless. It, naturally, included elements of rules and structures. People quoted in the story said certain individuals need to be told what to do. Right away, I saw this argument as a way to make people dependant, limit their potential, and assume control. I cringed. But newly aware of my bias, I knew I wasn’t looking at such situations clearly, and so ought to look a second time. After all, as I was reading this I felt energized, calm, and healthy. Feeling the benefits of structure, I saw that the homeless in this story who had someone ordering them fared much better. What was evident at the time (and evident in the article) was that my motto about treating people like adults simply isn’t always true.

Now might this program be at risk for the wrongdoings of leadership? Might the subjects become dependent, settle for less, and never realize their potential? Yes and yes. And there’ll always be those examples for me to focus on, forever burrowing into my tunnel vision. But it’s hard to look away from what I, myself, experienced at the school. And I realized that never laying down rules, and being over-concerned about the wrongs this may lead to, misses the boat for the majority, if not all, people who benefit, at least at times, from being given orders.

More than seeing the truth that my bias blocked, I saw that the issue I have with orders goes further than a concern about seeing others being held back. There’s a fear of control (or a fear of the motivations that makes others want to control) in my makeup. I was reminded of the person who says proudly, “If someone demands I do something, I’m likely to do the opposite”. The problem here is if you’re not going to do something because another demands it, aren’t you still being controlled—by them and by your emotions? What if their demand is in your best interest? Your fear of being controlled, and of it being detrimental to you, leads you to act in ways that are, well, detrimental to you.

Over-concern about being told what to do is not a good thing. The truth, and the middle ground, is that orders are simply a method. They’re not always the best method, but sometimes they are—to help someone grow, to help structure our world, to help get things done. The trick is to know how/when to implement them. I don’t want a law telling everyone to get up at 5:30, but I can appreciate that a voluntary commitment to this tai chi school was good for me. There seems to be a “training wheels” aspect to orders. And though harder without these “wheels” right now, I have been getting up early and exercising on my own.

Know yourself. And for parents, recognize the line to draw with your kids. Sometimes “treating people like adults” doesn’t mean they “act like adults”. If it’s not the right person and situation, things can go worse—just as it did for the homeless addict who died in Gladwell’s article.

Susan spoke more about her liberal, liberal-arts college. This bird of her own feather admitted she was a little lost. That’s not too different than most sophomores, I suppose. The bigger issue I couldn’t deflect, though, was the many seniors she knows who have no idea what topic to write their graduate thesis on. This is unnerving as they’ve spent 4 or 5 years of their life, shelled out a ton of money ($43,000/yr tuition), and now can’t decide why they did so. (And this is after a competitive screening process accepts only those who would succeed in this kind of environment.) Yet according to Susan, many drop out or have a “gap year” to work and figure out what they want to do in life. I had to think that some of these students would have benefited from a few orders.

Intelligent Morals

Posted on June 11, 2011 by Brandig

A few nights back, my buddy, Ralf, and I watched the classic film, “The Getaway”. In it, Steve McQueen plays a bank robber who gets caught up with a bad crew. During a stick up, one of his guys kills a security guard; another tries to take all the loot for himself; and the boss who set it all up got friendly with McQueen’s wife. Well this no-good trio were taken care of the old-fashioned western way. Three dead men. And consequently, it was McQueen and his Mrs. on the run.

Through the film, you sort of root for him—yes, a bank robber. Films get away with this moral malleability by offering just a 100-minute slice of life, and within that window exists the benchmark that skews normal ideas of who the good and bad guys are. (Everyone cheered for the Ocean’s Eleven guys, right? In fact, we call this the Ocean’s Eleven bias.)

I didn’t stick around to watch the rest of “The Getaway”, though. I was seeing through this bias and not buying it. But when I talked to Ralf the next morning, the film revealed something more.

“So, how did ‘The Getaway’ end?”, I asked.

“Oh, it was a happy ending,” said Ralf. “They got away from the bad guys.”

Fresh from the memories of this morally skewed movie, I asked incredulously, “Happy ending?”

“Yeah, they got to Mexico and even gave a guy $30,000 for his truck when he makes only $5,000 a year.”

I could imagine another tumbler in the lock being picked in the minds of those who watch this movie with “happy ending” satisfaction.

But I responded, “Ralf, there wasn’t a happy ending. How could there be? McQueen was a bad guy, too. What about the people he robbed?”

“Oh, it was a bank.”

Hm, that stopped me. Was the fantasy of filmdom responsible for this statement? I think it explained the disregard for theft and violence. But I see Ralf’s neglect—that the robbery of a bank is a theft of everyone who banks there—as a symptom of a bigger problem.

The fact is, people in general have a hard time distinguishing good from bad when immediate repercussions aren’t imminent. The ability to perceive the damages done to others might be called one’s moral depth or perhaps moral intellect. And specific to what Ralf displayed, this inability of an economic type is super-common. It’s the culprit behind the “broken window fallacy”, the belief that destruction of property means a bump in economic activity. It’s why people don’t get as upset when it’s tax dollars that are wasted–there’s not immediate victim. And in this case, it’s why people don’t feel as bad when it’s a business that is robbed. Nothing new, but an identification and understanding of this is needed.

Ralf failed to see the bank’s robbery as an act logically equal to taking from the bank’s customers directly–he failed to equate it as the same kind of wrong–that instead of being on the receiving end of a gun, customers are robbed via higher bank fees, worse interest rates, or whatever else the bank needs to do to compensate for the loss. “Banks are insured” is often retorted. Sure, but now all banks’ insurance rates (and consequential consumer prices) are the worse off.

Similarly, people fail to see the Ocean’s Eleven theft as taking from the casino’s patrons:

The bad 'good' guys. Most people only see the 'bad' casino owner and his deserving to be robbed. They aren't able to see the patrons who are also robbed by these two guys.

It’s unfortunate, because these harmful acts sort of get to slide by in the minds of many. For these folks, it’s simply an inability to connect the dots, similar to the struggle we have of, say, comprehending large numbers. Start talking about a government’s budget, for instance, and we hear numbers with lots of zeroes. Then hear politicians boast increases, or decreases as the case may be–and then realize they’re talking about changes over 5-10 years. For this confusion we need illustrations like “grains of sand on the beach” to meet us where our comprehension is most comfortable.

So as an ability that some are better at than others, scientific inquisition into this matter would be interesting. I’d like to know the difference between Americans and Europeans, men and women, different races, and political and religious groups. Who’s just plain better at acknowledging the family of four who has to pay more for their Vegas vacation now that Clooney and friends have made their deposit. It’s a trait worth studying because it shapes the policy we advocate. And as always, gained understanding increases patience and kindness toward one another.

But regardless of any study, I’d challenge us all to look a little deeper when it comes to ours and other’s behavior. A few steps removed, people’s ability to discern right and wrong gets fuzzy. Yes, we do have a modern economy where the absorption of such hits allow losses to be negligibly felt at large. But it would be even better if people could see further than the obvious, creating another layer to cushion our well-being from poor decision-making and shallow perspectives.

Apples and Apples and Oranges

Posted on May 8, 2011 by Brandig

My school offers a monthly event called “English Club.” It’s an opportunity for community members to attend an hour-and–a–half free, discussion-based class with one of our staff. It’s a nice way for my school to reach out and nice way for area folks to come test their English.

As teachers, we’re asked to address something light, yet talk-provoking. Last weekend I was the teacher and chose to talk about summer event and activities. It was low-key stuff with swimming, relaxing, and travelling all being mentioned. But half of the attendees were high-school aged. And some interesting things came up about their schooling.

I found out that the older the students get, the less time off they have in the summer. For a 12-year-old present it was two months. For the 16-year-old it was less than a month! She could even remember the dates.

“Last year is was July 14th to August 5th.”

I wondered if the school days in June and July were half-time or less. But though the school subjects apparently change during the summer months, the day’s length was no different. In all, breaks are sprinkled throughout the year with two longer ones in summer and winter. In other words, school is much like a career to the 16 to 18-year-olds. They go to school about 80 more days a year than U.S. students. For subjects, they choose a track of either math or literature. After a foundation of basics, this choice means an emphasis in math and science or literature and social science.

It’s tempting to compare apples to apples. Figures like these cause concern about the degree to which American students might be out-paced. Indeed, it is a concern for the U.S. students who heavily rely on more time spent in school. This logic may promote calls to expand the school year, etc. And this would be valid.

But I also happen to be working on an article on “ways to stay sharp during the summer holiday”. And in doing so, I soon realized that the lessons that can be learned away from school are actually the most important ones. It’s a time to flex one’s initiative: travel, exploration, research, projects, experimentation, getting a job, volunteering, organizing. What I came up with was a list that really promote growth and accomplishment.

I also realized that America has benefited (and been defined) by these endeavors of motivated individuals. Those that see the apples to apples likely see public school exposure to be THE determiner of a child’s success. I think America has gotten a little stuck in this theme. And frankly, America will have a tough time competing when it comes to regimented public activity. It didn’t grow up that way. So let’s not forget that there’s more than one script, and the different scripts of China and America also make this comparison apples and oranges. Heck, looking at it this way, one could also say that China’s kids are stuck in school for a long time, unable to be themselves.

And interestingly, this point was brought up by one 15-year-old girl at the English Club. She recognized that the China system is strong and is pumping out kids in remarkable numbers. But it’s also producing few leaders and creative people. The opposite is the tradeoff that America has always and indefinitely will face: less impressive nation-wide efforts—school, health care, etc.—but continue to create ways to change the world.

The trade-offs for both countries, evident in their education systems, makes perfect sense given the path they’re on and their strengths exhibited.

Faces of Cambodia

Posted on April 21, 2011 by Brandig

Cambodia was a true find! It offers much: an ancient history of greatness; a recent history of atrocity; and the presence is a breadth of third-world charm, SE Asian culture, and modern vibrations.

The pace of much of this country is so soothing, and their many monks are a boost to one’s serenity. There was new wildlife for this Minnesotan to lay eyes on; new terrain to hike and behold. Indeed, Cambodia is a one-of-a-kind blend of nature and man. Their ruins are literally one with nature today.

Cambodia’s tale is interesting, because it almost seems fated to exist. Many ancient civilizations have come and gone, either by war or by wither. Cambodia, “should’ve” followed the same path. Old-school Thai invasions took and killed all they could from the ancient Khmer Empire, but hadn’t the reach to wipe them out. In the 1800′s, the Thai and Vietnamese were sandwiching the Cambodia to annihilation. But then France came in, and though they dominated the Cambodians themselves, their form of dominance didn’t seek to eliminate them. It might be an odd thing to consider colonization as “progress”, but it preserved Cambodia.

Decades later, when they were independent, it was actually their own leaders who put the Khmer people on the brink. In 1979, Vietnam ousted them. And today, Cambodia has strengthened with the help of the latest version of outside leadership, the U.N.

Perhaps it’s fate. Perhaps Cambodia’s survival is a statement of the Khmer character. I’d also like to think it’s a statement about the progress of humanity, an increasing tolerance and decency. If so, Cambodia is our gift. And the gift comes in many forms. Get to know a people by their representative faces:

And oh yeah, let’s not forget Vietnam. I visited there, too.

These faces teach us so much about the preciousness of an individual. It’s so darn easy to lump people together. Lumping has its place, but what a lesson we can learn from Cambodia when seeing the obvious differences between the folks in this small, homogeneous country, a place where the people “all look alike”.

Thank you for following along to Vietnam and Cambodia. I mentioned several reasons above why it was special. But maybe most important, it makes you ask yourself, “gee, if you can get so much from a relatively small place in such a short amount of time, what does this say about the rich offerings before each and everyone of us wherever we are?”

Then again, that is the magic of travel, a fresh take on life, when your environment is reset to the surroundings of your destination.

to new plateaus,

-Brandon

UPDATE: Cool news. My China travel writing has been syndicated for a newspaper back in Minnesota. The BemidjiPioneer.com will now be offering my content. But I do have to use their software. Here’s my blog for them: Area Voices It already includes a couple posts about a recent trip I took to rural areas of southern China with breathtaking scenery. Check them out.

However, this marks a split in my writing. (Unless, I duplicate posts.) So until I figure out what writing will go where, you can easily stay up to date with either site by just following (or “liking”) my facebook page and/or Twitter feed where I’ll post everything.

Let me know if you have any questions/feedback.

Cambodian Capital City Kickboxing

Posted on April 14, 2011 by Brandig

Well, after the weight of the previous post‘s experience, I was ready for a lighter side to Cambodian living. Being in a Buddhist country, I was looking for a yin to the yang that was the Khmer Rouge.

For this, we needed something spirited, celebratory, something that the folks around here are proud of. Well, our same taxi driver who escorted us to the horrors of genocide offered a full-circle experience by taking us to see the cultured event: Cambodian boxing.

Join in to see what this slice of life is like…

First, let’s deepen this post with a little history. If you’ve read previous posts, you know that the Cambodian people (the Khmer) have experienced turbulent times since their peak. It was in about 1100AD when the Khmer empire encompassed much of modern-day Cambodia, Vietnam, Laos, and Thailand. Back then, pictures of fighters employing a similar style as today are etched into the temples.

But following these years, the withering of their empire began, and the Khmer almost went the way of other great, ancient civilizations. Almost.

Like a skinny, but persistent fighter, they’re scrappy and have held on.
And the Cambodians continue to fight–but now it’s for culture, tradition, and recreation. The fighting you see today is a bit influenced. French colonizers helped formalize the matches, introducing gloves and a ring. This sport included, it’s insightful to see the way aspects of the present are shaped by the happenings of the past.

Besides the yin and the yang, another interesting tie between the Khmer Rouge and Cambodian boxing is that the former outlawed the latter. So the art had to be resurrected in 1979. One wouldn’t know about this blip in the fighting style’s history by seeing it today. It’s Cambodia’s national sport and many come each week to watch the bouts. Matches are held each Sunday in a mid-sized arena behind a TV station. This way, fights can be televised live:

Pregame show.

I walked in thrilled to witness this. It felt authentic–one of those moments where the cultural vibe is heightened–like this is Cambodia being very Cambodia-ish. I was pretty pumped. Maybe others could tell:

A family turning around to feel my excitement.

But I guess these guys weren’t tuned into my frequency:

I assume he's saving his energy for the fight.

We got our seats (free, somehow!) and awaited the bouts.

Oh look! Here come tonight’s stars!

Bachelor #1

And his rival:

They got to their corners and prepared:

preparing

And this important man needed to pump himself up, too:

'Eh, it's a living.'

Okay, so what is this fighting style like? Well, obviously, it features punches. A more knowledgeable source could offer you better details, but I know elbows are used more. And the big difference is that they can kick. So barefoot fighters come out and fight with fancy footwork.

Another huge difference is the obligatory spiritual routine prior to each match: walking around the ring, bowing. Even the referee bows to the crowd. Lastly, and maybe the most noteworthy of the features, is that they play traditional music–during the fight. The music starts off slow but the pace quickens. The result, at times, was a dance-fight appearance, each fighter bouncing to the beat and punching to the rhythm. Of course, you can’t hear it in pictures. (Gosh, good thing I put together a video for ya! Read to the end for this bonus.)

Each evening features 5 matches. This night, the first one was called because one fighter’s face wouldn’t stop bleeding. In all the fights, there was only one knock out. A young man who must’ve had the heart of an adult, but the body of the teen:

Never had that confident look in him.

He survived a knock down and a 5 count in the first or round. I was curious to know how he’d respond to some battering.

His rest.

His more 'manly' opponent.

Well, he didn’t respond too well. Taking a few punches and on the run, another connection knocked him down. Attempts to get up were met with drunken-like, off-balance tip overs. Man, the state he must have been in! Was the room spinning? I can only imagine a mother watching her son.

Then again, this mother seemed to enjoy letting her kid check out the action:

Ah, Cambodia. A naked baby in the front row.

I may not be the biggest boxing rube, but I liked the energy (yes, the crowd did get into it) and authenticity of the place. And as many of you know, there’s a reason why so many fighting styles developed in the East. It’s no coincidence that those who practice meditation and oneness also practice fighting. It’s all tied together with being in your body and being present.

And when you’re fighting, you’d better be present, or you’ll be seeing things that aren’t there. No, not like daydreams. Like tweety birdies and stars.

Say, h about we stay present without the fists and feet, eh readers?

to new plateaus,

-Brandon

Video of the fight night!

The Khmer Rouge

Posted on April 7, 2011 by Brandig

*Hello, Readers. I’m trying a little experiment here. I thought the music that helped me write this piece might also go well while reading it: ) Press play if you desire a soundtrack. Otherwise, read on.

In the early 1970′s little Cambodia was in the middle of civil and international war. But on April 17th, 1975, the existing government fell to the revolutionary regime, the Khmer Rouge. They walked into the streets of the capital, Phnom Pehn, and people greeted them with cheers and celebration. The fighting was over. And the Khmer Rouge was to escort Cambodians into a new era of peace and calm.

But like waking abruptly from a pleasant dream, the Cambodian people were jolted into the cold, grim reality that things would get much worse before they got better. A day after the cheers, the new troops ordered the capital to be evacuated–immediately. Sick? Old? Awaiting amputation? Doesn’t matter. Go.

Imagine St Paul, MN or any mid-sized city being completely emptied and you, the resident, having to leave all your belongings. Some pushed their cars, most just trudged a suitcase or two. All were on foot and all would suffer a bruising journey to the countryside. In April 1975, the capital was a ghost town.

The evacuation of all large cities was the first in a series of extreme measures taken. Read on to learn about a dark chapter in humanity’s history. I talked earlier about Cambodian (the Khmer) people’s proud ancient history; well, here’s its contrast: a past dark and recent.

The Khmer Rouge ideology was based on a simple premise–disdain for Western influence (or “infection”) on the lives of the Cambodians. This led to two extraordinary goals: a return to the agrarian roots of their people’s past and a removal of anything or anyone who was tainted by the ways of the West. Pomp wealth and arrogance would be eradicated as all would know what life was like in the fields. No classes would rank the members of society.

As extreme as these directives already were, the troops on the ground relished and exploited the authority. A seemingly dark drive to see others suffer motivated heinous actions. The educated, wealthy, and former party members were eliminated in the most prejudiced fashion. A paranoid streak throughout the regime led to accusations, imprisonment, torture and death to thousands upon thousands.

A clean slate meant a blood bath.

As well, those who made the grade and worked the land didn’t escape the nightmares. “The Killing Fields” is the name given to a book and film depicting the long hours, few breaks, no days off, few tools, and no medical supplies typifying the conditions. Oh, and the haphazard execution of many, many workers.

“Out-with-the-old” revolutions are nothing new, but the difference here was that the scale of the cleansing (on their own people) was astonishing.

Today, there exists two sights in Phnom Pehn that showcase some of what went on. First, the remains from mass graves have been unearthed and are on display at Choeung Ek Memorial and museum:

This is the centerpiece--a nice-looking, but harrowing structure.

For inside it holds stark reminders of what was buried here:

Victims

It’s harder when they put a body on the bones:

Poor young women

Indeed, this enormous vessel held 8000 skulls of all ages.

Level upon level

Some of the mass graves are still underground. Visitors walked among this graveyard.

Resting in peace

Others were unearthed.

And here’s the result:

Excavated grave

Rather than buried below or displayed above ground, perhaps the most powerful were the bones being unearthing themselves:

The heavy reality of the killing and burying from 35 years ago is stronger when the evidence is revealed in this natural fashion.

Molar

This place was simply a killing factory. People were brought here to be executed. Housing had to be built because work couldn’t keep up with demand. Most were shot, but bullets were pricier than using a machete or a knife.

Many of the victims above were former prisoners of a place known as SR21. Today, it is known as the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum. It’s the second sight on this difficult tour:

This was former prison was originally a high school.

Naturally, the excuse to imprison was exploited for all sorts of horrendous activity. Accused spies, conspirators, and other untrusted people were brought for forced confessions. Around 17,000 people came here.

7 survived.

The interior of the five-building complex.

A dungeon for the prisoners. Conditions straight out of a horror movie:

As if meant to be as nightmare-ish as possible.

Today there are photos showing the torture:

The prison kept records of their inmates. Now the photos are used to give faces to the victims whose bones we already saw at the burial grounds.

It is so sad to see the faces, to get to know the lives.

And these are just a handful. Walls and walls of faces looked back at you, revealing to you a scale of the eradication.

But truth be told (and I think an almost more heart-wrenching phenomena) was that life was stripped away from the people even before death became them:

A death before death, and with a life in her arms.

She’s a shell of what she should have been. And this is even with, or maybe because of, the new life she’s holding. She must wonder, or perhaps know, the fate of her little baby. There’s no happy ending here.

As was the fate of all of these little faces:

So unaware

One young woman was crying at the museum. I wished to say something comforting. I’ve thought about it since, and if given another chance, I would’ve said, “they’re not suffering anymore”.

But humans actions–even when under the auspices of the most heinous motivations–deserve a human explanation. It’s more complicated, but so are people. The internal and external variables that made these perpetrators what they were, were arranged to create a regime based on twisted ideals. Their plans for their society disregarded virtually all humanity.

But believe it or not, the leaders also expressed concern for their people. They talked with other countries about the problems they had with high malaria and lack of medicines. They even broke a cardinal rule and accepted medical aid from the West.

This isn’t a defense; it’s reality. So it’s worth noting.

But even so, the organization became a breeding ground for all the hate mustered in its members and was a system of waste and destruction. The dreams of a Khmer Utopia literally turned into a killing contest, soldiers inventing new ways of causing death and torture. Animals may be more apathetic, but humans’ capacity for sympathy and compassion has a opposing potential that destroys. Roughly 2 million of the country’s 8 million died as a result of the four years the Khmer Rouge was in charge.

In 1979 Vietnam invaded and ousted the leadership. Today, a few of the leaders are still on trial. Some have died. But many rank and file members live with the public today:

As a Khmer Rouge; as a civilian.

Cambodia recovered substantially. You wouldn’t know about the genocide, except mainly for the stories–which everyone older than 35 has. In Battambang, my tour guide’s parents were killed. This is normal. Yet so is the positive demeanor among the Cambodians, despite the adage that abuse gets passed down through generations.

It’s also interesting how the same people capable of such cruelty are also so apparently quick to move on. Who knows? I may have interacted–bought goods, gotten taxi rides–from former torturers.

Part of why I recognize the past is to better appreciating the present. I remembered, following this sorrowful tour, that the best thing we can do is cherish the life around us.

to new plateaus,

-Brandon

Cruisin’ Battambang

Posted on March 31, 2011 by Brandig

Battambang is a low-key kind of town. It’s asleep by eleven and is decorated with dirt-roaded outskirts which, ya know, ‘keeps it real’. (However, the moto-taxi drivers who cruise them aren’t too “real”. One day, I asked one where my hotel was. He looked at my map and then pointed waaaaaaay down the street. So I agreed to hop on his ride. He drove me one block east, turned one block north, veered another block west, and yep, one south–through a wet, bumpy alley no less. Suddenly, I gave a couple quick double-takes, “what the…?” We’re right back where we started! That’s right. Then my trusty driver went one more block south from where we met and came to a stop. We were there. “Gee, thanks”, I said sarcastically. He took his money and happily drove away. Vroooooom.)

Oh, well. I’d later remedy any transportation troubles by renting a bike of my own. I’ll be a bad biker boy in Battambang with my 125cc bullet, I thought. Now it’s my turn to pick up some Cambodian locals and drive them around! Just kidding.

My whiny little bike did me just fine, though. Gosh, it’s fun! I first tried this two years ago in Thailand. I wiped out on the first day. SLAM!, I went down on the pavement. I went off the shoulder, got loose coming back onto the road, wobbled, and lost it. Sprawled on the road, I looked back to see headlights coming toward me. Thankfully they stopped. I heard French voices, so I knew I wasn’t in Heaven. I was out of it, man, a bit panicked, too. My saviors ended up being a middle-aged foursome of European angels from Germany and Slovenia.

Now I’m cruising in Battambang. I wasn’t sure where I was headed–that’s kind of the point–but I passed a building on one of those dirt roaded outskirts that had emblems on its front gate: World Health Organization, United Nations, etc. I pulled in the dirt driveway to an open area with a long, aged wooden building. Outside, there were some nurses with medical supplies under a gazebo. I approach with a smile and was greeted in kind. A man there said a few English words. I was at a school, it turned out. I looked toward the building and saw a class in session through an open window.

Maybe it was a bit brash of me to do this next thing, but I walked in and said hello:

'Good Morning, Mr. Ferdig'

They were pretty darn happy to see me–despite what the picture shows. I did what I knew and started teaching English. Some could say ‘thank you’ and ‘hello’; we went from there. Right away, I was struck by how they greeted me. Asking a student a question meant them standing up, putting their hands together for a brief bow of thanks, then the answer. Me thanking them meant another nod of respect from them before sitting.

It was a contrast from the mini rabble rousers I have in China. (I expected China to be more like these kids!) And I’ve addressed this before in an earlier blog, but it seems that the gratitude and humility that people have when poor can be displaced as they get wealthy. Thus it seems that wealth comes with the added responsibility of having to exercise gratitude.

We had a nice time learning and other classrooms heard what was going on. I looked out the window frames to see 25 more kids staring and leaning in. I got them involved a little as well. After 10-15 minutes the headmistress came inside in the manner you’d expect: the kids scattered and she questioned the teacher whose class I taught. “Uh, whoopsie”, I thought sheepishly. I got the drift that the students were supposed to be at recess.

But not a big deal. This wasn’t an American school where an uninvited teacher would be escorted off the premises. I stuck around a little while as the kids played outside:

Playing around

I said a few more words to the gentleman I met outside and rode off, grateful for the opportunity. (I just taught a room of Cambodian school children!) It certainly is a different version of the formal education that you and I are used to. Take a look at this classroom that I saw the day prior:

They'll be able to tell their grandkids one day about the 'old days' when they got splinters from their desks.

I took my trusty steed (bike) and drove toward a large hill. A rock face along the road made for a nice backdrop for a village. It was sooooo laid back here and I sat and laid with the best of ‘em.

Nice view, eh? Yeah, well, welcome to my life. This was me for about two hours.

Being in Battambang is interesting. In our busy lives, we look for respites from the hectic. Here, I’m the hectic that is immersed within the realm of a more peaceful lifestyle. ahhhhhhhhhh–way better than a day spa.

Then I rode home as sunset came. The smooth and rhythmic ride on the roads through open fields provided a calming view and tour of the scenery which complements the already mellow feeling that the region exhibits.

But Battambang today still has a rocky past that rears its head into the present.

Life...and death

Ah, land mines: like little presents dropped from Santa’s sleigh, they’re gifts that keep giving for years and years as untriggered ones remain, decorating the countryside.

Being on the bottom of the social/global totem pole means having people fight their wars on your land. I know this notion has a refreshed vibrancy today–even a little cliche, I suppose–but forgive me for being so. Because this was exactly the case with the Cambodians in the 70′s. On top of the their own infighting, they had the North Vietnamese flee to the “safety” of this country when the U.S. was in Vietnam. But the U.S. simply responded by doing what other countries did–including the Cambodians!–bomb the hell out of Cambodia. The actions taken then still kill people today.

This infighting and outfighting came to an end in 1975 when the rebel group, the Khmer Rouge, took power. Unfortunately, this new regime would lay the tracks for a most obscene and extreme rule. But I’ll save this as an intro to my next post. It will be the saddest and most difficult to read. But it will be a valuable education about humanity and an homage and respect to those those who suffered.

My last morning, I arose and caught a ride to the bus stop. I was saying good bye to Battambang, grateful for the school that I visited, for the wedding party I celebrated with, and for the crocodiles I walked beside.

And before I left, it surprised me with one last image:

Wait a minute, is that?

Mmmmm, crunchy.

Stay tuned for next time and stay relaxed like Battambang, Friends.

to new plateaus,

-Brandon

Getting Away in Battambang: crocs and a wedding

Posted on March 24, 2011 by Brandig

Our boat approached the landing in Battambang. We had to jump a few feet to make it on shore. While waiting on land for my luggage, a motorcycle driver approached—as they always do here. (You really haven’t seen aggressive marketing until you come to Asia.) The driver had a good face and knew English, so my new travel companion, Sven, and I went with him despite the fact that other taxis were giving free rides to hotels they worked for.

We believed our guy when he said those drivers misquote the room rates to lure guests. Treks like this sort of prepare you on a lighter scale ($5-$10) for what it’s like to be bilked. Ya know, strengthen the ‘old street smarts. And indeed, those claims of rate discrepancy were later verified by others.

It was late afternoon when we got to our place, the nicest I’d have on my trip. I would give it a solid two stars, and it set Sven and I back a whopping $11—total. (Even for southeast Asia this is cheap.) But Battambang, Cambodia is a second-tier tourist city. It didn’t have any real flair, but provided a genuineness that I didn’t get anywhere else.

Here, unlike any other place, it felt I “got away”.

Sven and driver.

We met our good-faced driver the next morning and got a look at this town. It’s basically a city full of those “downtown style” short, connected buildings you’d see in any old downtown. Nothing much to it. Without a real common tourist magnet, we relied on recommendations and gut instincts to tell us where to go. Here begins what we found and did. And in this post I’ve got two cool stops for ya.

In the morning, we read about this crocodile farm. I’m not a huge fan of crocodiles or anything, but hey, this is Cambodia and I’m a curious guy, so it would be silly to pass it up.

We rode up to a homestead just off the main road. I didn’t see crocs, but I saw a house and a patio area with a dude laying in a hammock watching TV. Our bilingual driver said a few words to him and a tour kicked off. Where’s the crocs, though? I hadn’t noticed that the back side of this “patio” was the wall of the croc compound.

First thing our guide did was walk us into the juvenile crocodile section. That’s right, walk into. Third world croc farm means front row seats! No laws to hold you back; no lawsuits to fear. Just watch your fingers, and hands, and arms. But calm down, Reader, you soon find out that the juvies are waaaaay more afraid of you than you of them—unless you’re a crocophobe. As you enter, they scatter all over the place, scuttling and wobbling about as they struggle on the slippery tiles into the depths of their pool. I was amazed at this kind of reptilian exposure:

Juvies on the run.

Huddling near their pool.

I got fairly close these buggers. I was actually able to grab one’s tail. Oh, don’t worry, Mom, it was completely safe. I took alligator taming 101 in college—oh shoot, that was alligator taming. Oh, man, was I lucky! Anyway, here’s a little amateur video:

After these trouble-making teenage crocs we got a look at the sweet, innocent kid crocs.

Awwwwww.

These babies allowed for nice contrast as our next visit was from atop the concrete pen dividers, viewing the adults. These were scary even from a safe distance. They’re huge. Huge. Reptiles are supposed to be small, like lizards and stuff. How’d these get to be so big?! And I was staring at, like, 30 of them:

Come and get it. The lure of rat skin was too much for them to resist.

The one in the middle looks to be in a precarious position.

Getting this close to so many really made their awesomeness obvious. Their heads are so big, and their scales and plates so dramatic. They are quite the creation.

Helmet-headed monsters

And here’s some adult croc live action:

This farm had three adult pens, one juvenile pen, and a baby one. These mega-reptiles are grown, sold, and used for their skin and meat.

And if you thought that interaction was cool, check this next one out:

Later in the day, Sven and I were cruising south of town when we saw a gathering along the side of the road. They looked to be partying in a large tent. Should we stop?, we mulled. Yes, we decided. “Stop”, we said and our biked pulled over. We walked up to the crowded tent and from between two folds in the tarp, an arm popped out with a beer in hand, a beverage welcome-offering for Sven. He declined, though later would accept. We were at a wedding party.

Well, I talk about universal traits that connect one people to another–food, religion, the outdoors. But here was another doozie–weddings (and with it wedding parties–the dancing, alcohol, the whole sh’bang.)

I wasn’t too surprised that they welcomed us–this kind of treatment is sort of common. (Though I’m not sure why, except for the general sense I get that they look up to Westerners. By why is this the case? And how thrilled would you be to have a tourist come to your wedding?)

Whatever the reason, these folks were thrilled to see us! They wanted pictures and were honored and flattered to have us take part in their event. There we were:

But would this ever happen in reverse?

Oh well. Time to stop asking questions and take the time to enjoy this union.

I think he married up.

The families wanted to feed us, but we didn’t want to keep our driver waiting. (Interestingly, he didn’t want to enter, because he didn’t know this family. This was a sentiment I was more familiar with.) But we also didn’t eat as I imagined it a bit awkward sitting down at a table with a bunch of people with whom we could do little more than just look at.

Though they were fun to see.

But we could dance: ) The music was playing and few were shaking their derriere. I moved my body to the music (oh, that’s called dancing?) and soon others caught the drift. We started a circle of folks going round and round as they do here. I tried to dance with a girl and was rebuffed. (Getting dissed in this scenario only makes you feel slightly less stupid than ordinarily.) But I didn’t let it get to me too much:

Funny, this wasn't in the travel guide.

Then I saw another universal trait connecting people all over the world: Middle-aged men dancing badly at wedding parties. I was actually quite struck by the resemblance of one man who was talking to a younger girl, moving in an flailing-armed, loose manner. Made me feel right at home.

I said above that they were honored to have me. But how can I not walk away with the honor being all mine? I was able to experience the lives of people so far away in such a revealing and enlightening way.

What common threads we all share; what a great lesson in humankind.

Thank you for sharing it with me as your attention encourages me to write.

to new plateaus,

-Brandon

Life on the River

Posted on March 17, 2011 by Brandig

Hi Ho, Readers! Welcome back to Cambodia.

After getting admittedly “templed-out” (my guide book warned me about that) I was ready to trade in the ancient and the touristy of Siem Ream for the peace and pace of Battambang, a city of 150,000.

But before I made that trade off, I had another exchange to make: sturdy earth beneath my feet for the soothing sway of water beneath the hull. A big reason I visited Battambang was the boat ride taking me there. That’s what this post is all about.

And the trip did not disappoint. It offered splendid natural views and revealed a unique way of life amongst the people who live along the river. Let me show you.

The van picked me up at 6:45AM. A bit tardy, but on par with these 3rd World treks. Also similar was that I was joined by a host of other tourists. I love it; it provides a great chance to meet others. This journey offered English folks, a German, an Aussie, a Slovak, and some Chinese. The van was undersized and we drove to the lake (15 kms) scrunched like a clown car.

We got to the docks and were met with aggressive local peddlers selling breakfast foods. “You no breakfast on boat,” they said. That convinced me, and I bought some cheese and croissants to enjoy later on. I also try to be fair and buy a little from a couple, but that always seems useless when six others come over. After, the peddlers went back to wait for the next van.

This southwest journey started just south of Siem Reap on Tonle Sap’s (that big lake’s) north end. Map time:

Doesn’t look too far but that there's a 7-9 hour boat ride from Siem Reap to Battambang.

We were late to the docks, but that was a good thing because then I got to sit in the front of the boat. The back would have been lousy–no sun, loud engine, bathroom near you and cramped. I got to sit out on the nose like I did as a kid on my grandpa’s boat and enjoy the breeze, views, and hot sun. (Yeah, I got sunburned—not bad for February.)

At this marina locals were abundant, making their way “out to sea”.

Setting out

Look and see a sea of chocolate milk. Not exactly picturesque, but the scenery got a lot better quick.

Like when I turned around and saw this motley crew:

German on the left, Englishmen on the right. American at the helm!

Actually, here’s the captain:

Aye aye.

It was a fairly short jaunt over open water. This was good; because it was boring. The fun part was seeing the distant shores creep closer. And with that, observing the shallow water wild life. Our boat roared along with the rushes in the distance. The foreground was populated with patches of weeds slowly approaching then racing by at random; port and starboard, distant and nearby, each on their own trajectory.

*This is getting to be a consistent theme of New Plateaus: another awesome interaction of water and land.

Here we were at the mouth:

Open wide: )

On the roadways of water it’s easy to find the right path. There is only one to take: ) As we got to the river, plant life went from random to steady. The shores around us narrowed and we were swallowed by the mouth of the river. Earth began to pour by in a smooth flow. The terrain was low and marshy with low-level brush framing the river banks.

Along the way, we occasionally stopped to pick up a local passenger. I imagined more than once us being hijacked. Because those are just the kind of relaxing thoughts you want to have on vacation. But this was an adventure, so I thought the imagery kind of stimulating and amusing. And looking at the characters we stopped for, you knew no harm would come from these faces.

Mornin’! We’re gonna raid ya!

Not long into this river route, we began to pass what I’d heard so much about and was excited to see: villages along the river. Sounds normal; most people like living near water. But this river rises incredibly during the rainy season. It’s difficult to inhabit this kind of variance. So the buildings with foundations are on the banks upon stilts several feet off the ground.

And the foundation-less buildings? They float:

I mean they live ON the river.

Floating School

Floating Post Office

Can you imagine sitting in class, rocking to mathematics as outside boats go by? How about conducting business at the post office? Get up in the morning and roll out of bed, but watch out for that first step! Joking aside, imagine the hazards for sleepwalkers, blackout drunks, and infants. Scary.

Floating Store

Floating Houses

These villages seem to be a result of not much money, but also of a built-in ceiling which caps wealth potential. How effective can it be to float around from place to place? Then again, it’s pretty efficient if going downstream.

Regardless, and in true Cambodian style, folks here seem quite contented. They acted in a manner you’d expect from folks you meet on the water—a lot of smiles and a lot of waving.

I think boys around here must finally get undies on their 7th birthday.

It was great. We must have had 100 children wave happily at our passing-by like we were a float in a parade. (Hey that’s funny, float, get it?!) I didn’t capture it well, but their excitement when seeing us was stunning and wonderful. I wanted to throw candy at them, but had to settle for waving back.

This whole situation also got me thinking about being here, as a Westerner and as a tourist. I travel around and marvel at the ways of “these people”. I am intrigued “by their ways”. It all screams “heirarchy” of the human race. But I tell you, I love to learn about others’ lives. Travel is a paradox in this realm, then, in that it juxtaposes and evidences (and enforces) the reality of differing social evolutions. Yet it also nurtures an inter-culture intimacy.

Cambodian Huck Finn

Going for that big pike action.

'You take that back!'

Wheeeeee!

The rare river monk

After 8-9 hours, we saw signs of actual urbanization. Battambang was near. I met a travel companion, as well. Sven would join me over the next two days touring our destination which had surprises waiting: crocodiles, a Cambodian wedding.

For now, I hope you enjoyed this look at the lives of the river folk here in northern Cambodia. You really stretch your imagination of what life could be like when you see how so many live theirs.

I look forward to sharing more of the world with you.

to new plateaus,

-Brandon

Videos:

Time Capsules

Posted on March 11, 2011 by Brandig

The Temples of Angkor in northern Cambodia connect us with a lost time in a place far away. Coming to these temples is like entering a room to find a cigarette smoldering in the ash tray.

Someone was “just” here.

These ruins are a time bridge.

Indeed, it is a thrill to see them “still smoking” after all these years. But more than smoke, they speak. They tell us about the “smokers”. One theme is religion: they built to honor the sacredness and super-humanness of their leaders. Another is capabilities: they built in ways unknown to the world (at a staggering pace). The last theme is permanence and inevitability.

Good stuff, eh?

The Temples: Time Capsules

Religion What motivates much of humanity today? Religion and spiritual movements do—both social and personal. The early kings of the blooming Khmer empire (~800 AD) declared themselves as god-kings. This trend held for subsequent rulers and temples were built by their command—the command of God.

So by golly, these things were going to be built nice! And nicer, and nicer and bigger… Each one erected helped cement the belief in the ruler’s deification.

A view like this, from atop Angkor Wat, in 1050 AD would make a believer in the god-kings out of most anyone.

Here’s another:

The birds are impressed to this day.

They were a Hindu people, influenced by a strong trade partnership with modern-day India. So the temples have in them the Vishnu, the Shiva, the Krishna, and all the staples of a Hindi good time. These temples demonstrate the Khmer’s fervor for their religion and also the fervor within themselves.

After getting sacked in the 1400’s, though, the Khmers became predominantly Buddhist, which they are today. And they haven’t been able to recreate the luster and energy of their past. The fervor to create seemed to vanish. In the meantime, humanity evolved and advanced. Unbeknownst to them, their methods were left behind. Today their lineage can only use their empire’s once greatness as a sales pitch for wealthier tourists to visit.

Permanence/Inevitability Put yourself in 1000-year-old shoes. Imagine these temples freshly carved, unweathered, alive with the life of a civilization. This theme is about a civilization peaking, and then the customs, beliefs, and buildings lost to time. It’s about the inevitability of all material—including stone—when up against the Change that defines the nature of the universe.

Here’s a century of change. Outside Angkor Wat 1900-ish:

Today, the population here looks more like this:

This is only 100 years.

When the temples were alive with those who built them, lived in them, and worshipped in them, these folks would have little potential to even imagine the sight here today, predominately Western folk admiring and examining the work of these archaic people. (The shock to realize these would one day be considered archaic!) The immortal being chipped into stone are now “neat statues” to the passers by.

But even without this dramatic human-factor, nature would still do a fine job herself of illustrating immense change,. Much stone was eaten away by rain; pillars and towers were bullied by gravity. After the original people left Angkor, the energy drained. All that did remain in the 1400′s were some monks. Many temples were completely ignored and nature had its way; moss carpeted the stone, trees sprouted atop, and roots melted and meandered down to the ground. (A nice reminder here, as well, about human time vs. natural or geologic time.)

Here’s inevitability:

Stairs could use a buff.

Shadows of greatness.

Worse for wear.

That's how the temple crumbles.

Nature says, 'Take that!'

Swiss rock

But these temples are also about inevitability. First, you gotta hand it to them: many structures do stand strong after 1000 years. (You’ll see them in sec.) More important, though, the events and the accomplishments of the Khmer cannot be undone by time. As long as their history is remembered, the contrasts, the similarities, and the patterns their history reveals will add depth to who we are as a species. This is most enlightening and motivating. May our memories of them outlive the sandstone.

Capabilities: Looking back on human’s history, we like to see the progression of invention and exploration, wealth and health. It’s not a straight line. There are peaks and valleys on this upward trend and I think we’re drawn to these “peaks” of social evolution. Indeed, the Khmer civilization was a high point, the largest pre-industrial city on Earth.

What does it say about our potential if people so long ago built such grand structures?

Let’s look at some of the best work they did.

1000 year old entry way.

Another angle from atop Angkor Wat.

This is a nice one for seeing the precision and also for wrapping your head around the size of their constructions.

Above was just the outer wall. Now wrap your head around this:

Tada! Angkor Wat, the largest religious building on the planet.

From the other side:

Greener grass, too.

Up close the temples were impressive as well:

This carving is called 'bas relief'. It was featured on a few temples and tells the Khmer story.

Elephants are pretty cool.

Some temples were caked in carvings:

This was a favorite of mine. (the monkeys are replicas)

Another of this carved marvel.

What was the rest of the world up to in 1000AD? Think about that. Few places could rival these guys. They were motivated, inspired, intelligent, and skillful in creating the architecture, labor methods, wealth, and manpower to get these done. Repeatedly. To the tune of seventy temples!

What a peak in man’s past.

It was a pleasure to view it. It was a pleasure to share it.

My next stop in my trip was to the city of Battambang. I found a few adventures of my own there–the first being the nine-hour boat ride over lake and river to get there. That’s gonna be a cool article.

to new plateaus,

-Brandon

p.s. I have more pictures for you, too Check them out atop or go to my Facebook Page.