yoga – Page 2 – Jessica Magnin

Never say never

August 3, 2009June 10, 2012Jessica Magnin

So here we are and here is the present moment. It takes a bit of adjustment, of time to sort things out in ones head. Travelling to far away places that seem off the planet cause a mixture of intrigue, disgust, gratitude and havoc to ones priorities. Being away from what seems to be normal is like having an excerpt of ones life removed, caught in a stand still, suspended above time, place and comprehension. But than again , it is addicting and thought provoking. A question that haunts us and that has been contemplated over countless meals of traditional Khmer dishes is ”why and who is it to say where and when one is born?” It could have been anyone of us that was born into a poverty stricken family that was ”forced” to sell their daughter for a mere 300USD, or that was born to parents tortured and murdered during the Cambodian civil war or any war at that matter. ” Who makes the rules and what are they based on? Luck, Karma, who can tell?”

We arrived in Koh Samui late yesterday afternoon as the sun was slipping graciously beyond the horizon. It was difficult for me to leave Cambodia and again I found myself fighting to hold on to what we had experienced and the relationships we had formed. The tears fell but I know we will return. Attachment, one of the obstacles to happiness. It is a hard habit to break!

20 odd year ago we had fallen upon this tiny island by chance. It fell naturally into our plans during our 3 month adventure through South East Asia. I remember leaving Bangkok and its craziness in the early early hours, catching a very local local bus where everyone smoked DJs at that time, including us. The sweet smell of cloves had suddenly become nauseating and the desire to JUST arrive was over ridden by a VERY VERY strong need for frequent pit stops to breathe. I don’t recall exactly how many hours it took but it was something in the range of ”long”, very long. Dropped off in Surat Thani, which resembled very little in those days, we caught an open roof oversized cross between a canoe and a traditional fishing boat. We were few, the sun was scorching, I fell into a deep slumber waking only minutes before this virgin island called Koh Samui which means coconut island. I had never seen anything so pristine. The island was inhabited by a lush green foliage with turquoise waters that serpentines around fine white sandy shores peppered with towering coconut trees . From afar, it seemed deserted except for a few fishing boats, staggering in the harbour, swaying gently to a relaxed cadence , a forewarning to what we would soon experience. We found an isolated bungalow inches away from the water. No luxury, no electricity no running water but total privacy and a serenity known only to those who dare to let it embrace them. In those days, Koh Samui was reachable via boat and that was it so it’s access was limited. There were miles of untouched virgin sand and at high tide crystal clear waters lapped the edges of the entrance to our bungalow.. Not much to do but relax and that is exactly what we did. It was perfect and therefore we promised NEVER to return.

Well, we all agree that promises aren’t made to be broken but ”never say never” according to some could jinx you. So with a bit of superstition and a lot of coincidence we’ve returned, not just once but 5 times in total! No, Koh Samui no longer is that deserted faraway island which no one has heard of but it still has that ”something” that I am unable to articulate.

Doing nothing is debatable cause when you sit you are ”doing”, when you sleep and eat you are ”doing”, when you look into the eyes of a multicoloured sunset you might say that you are ”doing”. Well, if all this is considered ”doing” I must admit that I like it, a lot!!! The day consisted of yoga solo and then possibly with the kids or a friend, playing with the kids on the beach, in the sea, in the pool, on the deck, in town, eating, eating , eating, swimming, chatting, dancing , laughing even a melt down or two or three and that was about it. That is our holiday in a nutshell or a coconut shell. Oh, we did manage to take the boat out one day for a snorkel and picnic on some off the coast island. The most monumental event was Noa’s( and possibly mine too) kind and thoughtful offer to transport head lice from Cambodia to Koh Samui for free. So a day (or 2 or more) was spent shampooing everyone’s hair, the 4 boys and the 6 adults, stripping the linens, boiling Noa’s clothes and Mylo too (the poor thing, there isn’t much left of him).

There are sunsets here that melt your heart. An alchemy of gold, of ruby, of tiger’s eye and amethyst, with hints of amber that colour the sky as the golden ball dips into nothingness. As dusk falls graciously, so does God’s hand as he fills his canvas splashing strokes here and there until the entire sky is transformed into something that is beyond expression.

I am content, immensely so. Cambodia secretly remains in my heart and on my skin, it took me 3 days in to take shower. In this moment of ”perfectness”, head lice and all we couldn’t have asked for more. So with extended gratitude for this perfect moment, we wish you well.

Gross national contentment

August 2, 2009June 10, 2012Jessica Magnin

Relaxing on a rattan couch with the Gulf of Thailand extending into nothingness there is a feeling of dislocation from what had appeared to be the real ”reality” , a harsh but gratifying one that we seemed to integrate and come to appreciate. Life had taken on a different meaning. Colours and experiences were intensified by a strong sense of impermanent- ness. We had adopted a ”that is exactly the weather or type of day that we had wanted! Thank you, Thank you!” type of attitude, one that works very well in Cambodia and to be honest, in life in general. This new easygoing attitude just seems easier to apply in Cambodia where so often the forces lie beyond our western control. Interesting enough, things had never moved so smoothly in the lives despite the bumpiness of the unpaved roads we travelled upon. Within the tangled web of what appeared complex, relinquishing all expectations, things suddenly became uncomplicated, enjoyable and light. Who cares if yesterday our guest house served ginger coffee and today they had nooooo idea what we were asking for.

Today, our first day in another world, one far away from the trials and struggles of a good 85% of the Cambodian population living a poverty stricken life in rural areas with a daily income that wouldn’t even buy Noa a gum ball, we find ourselves in a semi-pseudo world of luxury. Our plane fare alone to reach Cambodia we embarrassedly calculated, cost more than the equivalent to 6 years of income for one Cambodian and, be assured, we flew economy, a grey market ticket. And what about the CO2 that our plane spit into the air? Something comparable to 24 years of daily commuting of one car. These uncomfortable statistics are quite a deterrence in themselves and weighs heavily on our mind. How does one justify?

But below, without a care in the world, the 4 boys play on the white sandy beach. The sun glistening in their hair, imagination comes alive as they search for odds and ends of broken shell, bits of wood and coconut creating a magical kingdom founded in nature. It muses us to witness the change in a child when removed from the material world of ”wanting” and placed into the beauty of nature where they suddenly have all that they desire to be truly happy. I often ask myself if it is not us, the western world, that needs the assistance of the disadvantaged and not the contrary. I think that in truth we could all learn a lot from one another how to live with more joy and less fear.

There is a poignant quote that I read while reading ”Three Cups of Tea” that sums it all up in a few short simple words that I don’t exactly remember but the gist of it goes something like this. ”It isn’t the gross national income that determines the happiness of a country but better the gross national contentment.” And one could add, being in harmony with one’s community, one’s land and one’s heart. Sounds bit simplistic for our modern techie minds to grasp? Maybe, but try it it might just work.

Strike a beat

August 1, 2009June 10, 2012Jessica Magnin

C.O.S.O, Cambodia Orphan Save Organization is located in tiny Sra Shrang (Pool of Ablutions) just east of Ta Phrom. We had learned about this newly established, non-profit, non-governmental and non-political organization 12 km from Siem Reap Town but still within the walls of Angkor, while dining at a community aware café in PP. A small black and white flyer was taped to the bathroom wall and it caught my attention by one small but hugely significant sentence ” YOU DON’T NEED ANY SPECIAL QUALIFICATIONS, JUST A DESIRE TO HELP OTHER PEOPLE AND A FEW HOURS TO SPARE”. That was enough for us to make the trip. C.O.S.O.’s main objective is to offer food, shelter, education and safety to local street kids living in extreme poverty. Their orphanage resemble a makeshift wooden shelter with a tiny open air dirt floored room acting as a school house. The children are barefoot, dirty but are content and cared for. Their wish list – rice, food, sleeping mats, mosquito nets (Dengue epidemic killing 1000s of children), blankets, medical and school supplies, clothing, shoes which is sadly a far cry from most of our kids wish lists – iphone, ipod, skate board, watch, new laptop… and the list goes on. C.O.S.O provides Khmer and English lessons, 3 square meals a day, a safe place to sleep, evening traditional Khmer dance training and love. We are keeping our eye on this one too for future involvement and hopefully by next summer we will be back with a group of interested yogis ready to invest a bit of their time and love. Website: www.coso-orphanage.com

With good karma and Vishnu for protection we survived our biking adventure (quite a miracle!) had the most delicious swim in the River Garden’s newly installed pool and then off on tuk tuk to listen to Dr. Beat Richner, a true saint. If you have never heard of him and are depressingly down on mankind check out his web site: www.beatocello.com. You will be inspired and your life will never be the same. This tiny Swiss-German man of little charisma nor power has humbly moved mountains, those large than the grandest. With a dream and a determination stronger than the political corruption that he constantly encounters, Dr. Beat Richner has successfully opened 3 children’s hospitals saving close to 8 million Cambodian children in the past 15 years. All medical services are free of charge and they even pay the transportation to and from the hospital. Yearly they receive 600’000 visits with 55’000 admitted for severe illnesses and accidents, they perform over 9’000 surgical operations, inject over 100’000 inoculations and deliver over 5’500 babies a year. Without these hospitals, close to 3000 children would die each month. Dr. Beat Richner has a staff of 2’600 qualified doctors and nurses and best of all all but 2 are Cambodians and paid between 250USD -1000USD! What is humbly amazing is his down to earth approach and presence. Every Saturday evening at precisely 19h15, Dr. Beat Richner shows up at the Siem Reap auditorium to play his cello for donations only. He begins with ” We need your help. It costs 17 million USD to run our hospitals per year. With 7% of donations coming from Switzerland another 3% from the Cambodian government we depend on individual donations. If you are old give money. If you are middle aged give money and blood and if you are young give blood.” It was as easy as that. No elaboration or exaggeration just hard cold facts that make your blood rush and your heart tear. He then beautifully stroked his cello, talked a bit more and showed an inspirational documentary on his work. One cannot leave unaffected! There is so much to be done but remember ”small acts with a big heart” go a long way.

We leave tomorrow and my tears prepare for the journey.

P.S. We did end up dropping by the last hut at the top of the road just before the park. The crooked wooden door hung loosely on its rusty hinges, a pair of pink tattered children’s slippers were scattered on the stone floor and the sound of cartoons whispered from a small T.V. A young man in his early 20’s met us at the doorway. Our friend had left after the death of his wife just a few months after our departure last December. Saddened, we sent warm thoughts his way and hope that our paths will cross again one day soon.

P.S.S. Internet connections failed so this portion of our journey is an aftermath but still so real.

Road mantra

July 31, 2009June 10, 2012Jessica Magnin

Don’t look, don’t hesitate, do pray !

Siem Reap is quite flat which is a good thing especially when you rent bikes with no brakes and no horns! But as WE have the right away in all circumstances and in all directions it didn’t seem to matter too much except that everyone else has the right away too. I kept pedalling away along the dusty ochre roads with Noa straddled on the back seat bouncing up and down with each bump as I chanted my road mantra ”Don’t look, don’t hesitate and do pray” over and over again.

Just before 7h00 through the main entrance, we entered Angkor or ”Holy City”, the capital of Cambodia’s ancient Khmer empire, a mystical masterpiece dating as far back as 802 AD with God – King (devaraja) Jayavarman II reigning. A golden hallow of a rising sun filled the sky illuminating the 1.5km lotus sprinkled moat protecting the early 12th century royal temple of Angkor Wat comparable to the Machu Pichu, the Taj Mahal and undeniably the Pyramids of Egypt. Under the power of King Suryavarman II, the protector of the sun, Angkor Wat with its perfect symmetry is adorned with three-tiered pyramids crowned by five lotus shaped pillars towering 65 meters into the heavens above. Oriented west, the direction symbolising death, this royal monastery was dedicated to the Hindu God Vishnu and was thought by many to be a funerary temple. Angkor Wat’s exterior walls are densely carved depicting mythological and historical Hindu epics.

From Angkor Wat we headed north beginning our 17 km tour on our rickety bikes with no brakes chanting our road mantra for protection. The late 9th century Hindu hilltop temple, Phnom Bakhengof, was our first stop, then cycled past Baksei Chamkrong’s single 12m tall brick tower built by King Harsharvarman I in the 10th century and onward toward Angkor Thom, built in the early 13th century. The paved path leading to the South Gate of Angkor Thom (meaning BIG City) tells a story, a mythic battle between demons and gods coined in the Hindu epic ”Churning of the Ocean of Milk”. Before the actual gate, we were escorted along a widen pathway lined with 54 giant stone gods to the left and 54 giant stone demons to the right (many beheaded during the civil war). Funneling through the squeezed entrance of the South Gate where dozens of overloaded mini-vans, motorcycles, tuk tuks and the crazy ones on bikes with no brakes took turns passing. The south gate, one of 5, ascends vertically 20m and is crowned with the 4 faces of the Bodhisattva Avalokiteshvara, the ”compassionate spirits” each facing the cardinal directions under the construction of King Jayavarman VII in the early 13th century.

We zigzagged successfully through the bottle neck pedalling on a road that opened onto a long stretch of just more dust and bumps before tumbling upon the most divine and omniscient of the temples, BAYON, clusters of 4 gigantic headed statues towering 15 meters into the heavens. Smack in the middle of Angkor Thom, we discover 54 gothic towers decorated with 216 faces of the Bodhisattva Avalokiteshvara or as some contemporaries see them, replicas of the egotistical legendary King, Jayavarman VII himself. At almost any vantage point, a dozen or more heads are visible at any one time provoking a feeling of being watched or for those that see the glass half full, a feeling of being protected.. Mysterious, alive, serene, protecting and powerful, this Buddhist stone temple of the late 12th C.E. draws us into its trance. Coincidentally, Bayon, which we discovered later, symbolises ”between heaven and earth” ( the name of our yoga centre, for those that have forgotten).

Continuing on our way to Baphuon, the Royal Enclosure, Phimeanakas, Preah Palilay, Tep Pranam, the Preah Pithu, the Terrace of the Leper King and the Elephants, the Central Square, the North and South Kleang and the 12 Towers of Prasat and finally exiting through the Victory Gate of the eastern wall. Ta Prohm was our last extended temple stop. Made famous to westerners by Angelina Jolie casting in the film ”Tom Raider” and also the sentimental film ”Les deux Frères”, Ta Phrom is an intricate labyrinth of stone temples intertwined with overgrown silk cotton trees and massive fig. The overbearing roots seem to have taken over this Buddhist mid 12th C.E. temple which was dedicated to the mother (or possibly Mother Nature) of King Jayavarman VII. Ta Phrom is a display of the power of nature, the desire of humans to conquer it and Mother Nature’s uncontrollable forces.

For a good cause

July 30, 2009June 10, 2012Jessica Magnin

The River Garden makes wonderful breakfasts like most but served in an enclosed lush courtyard toward the back of the guest-house. The sun was already quite strong when we headed out on foot through the centre of town, across a few open air markets making our way dead east in search of the Green Gecko, a local NGO run by an Australian. We did receive some vague directions via our phone call and trusted that someone would be able to guide us along the way if lost. After an hour of following their directions ”walk past the local high school continue down the road, turn onto a dirt road half way down then make a right then a left then a right then a left and somewhere in the middle of rice paddies you will find us but there is no sign.” We were lost, well kinda because I believe that one can’t get lost if one doesn’t know where one is going in the first place.

A huge storm was preparing, the wind picked up which is a tell all sign and sure enough within minutes, the sky was black pelting rain drops bigger than gummy bears onto the population below. We sought shelter in an open air movie theatre which I had mentioned in a previous mail is probably more interesting for a westerner than the movie (s) itself! Picture a thatched roof shading some 40-50 plastic lounge chairs occupied mostly by men eating rice and dried fish, smoking strong tobacco and drinking coca cola. With 7-8 different TV screens (no flat plasma screens just a few 30″) blaring 7-8 different voices and 7-8 different images from Discovery Channel to Top Gun, there is choice and choice in this case gives one a major headache!

Storm came, storm went leaving only one obvious sign- water and lots of it! We never made it to the Green Gecko on foot, they had to come get us with a tuk tuk and as we ”turned onto a dirt road made a right and then a left and then a right and arrived in the middle of some rice paddies”. I realised that what seemed so simple to them was just so difficult to us. The Green Gecko Project is doing some amazing work. A Cambodian NGO working with street kids employing only Khmer staff. Sustainability is the key and so is respecting Khmer traditions. http://www.greengeckoproject.org

”For a good cause”. There are so many ways to make a difference in Cambodia and certainly most other disadvantaged countries too. Give blood, shop responsibly, donate one’s time, one’s skills, one’s heart or one’s money. One can also dine or sleep in community aware cafés and guest houses. Every little act of goodness counts around the clock, around the heart, around the world.

You snooze, you loose

July 29, 2009June 10, 2012Jessica Magnin

The wheels on the bus go round n’ round and so does the same Cambodian film showing on the tiny screen above the driver’s head but that doesn’t seem to deter the passengers (nor us) from watching and re-watching. Outside, the clouds are forming dark overbearing masses as a rainstorm prepares itself to shower the countryside just below. Grey streaks mark the sky where rain presently falls. I look out behind the pastel blue plastic curtain into the vastness where life seems totally undisturbed by the quarter size droplets of rain and the thunder that roars in the background. It is part of life. C’est tout!

While gazing out my little window watching the scenery jump from one image to another incapable of capturing the beauty of the countryside with my digital camera, I feel frustration. I yearn for time to stop, just to take in what lays before but the speed of the bus makes the images flash by quicker and quicker and my frustration grows greater and greater. That feeling of yearning is a familiar one, one that keeps me from being totally in the moment much like that old saying goes ”you snooze, you lose”. I notice how grasping mentally to one fleeting image I miss out on the next, it cuts my breath in half, my jaw contracts and my thoughts pick up momentum. I remind myself ”there is no need”. I surrender, letting the fast moving images pass before my eyes absorbing each one individually and then just simply letting them go. Much like one watches the mental screen of the mind during a ”sit”, unattached, totally present and fully absorbed.

The rain did its thing, and by the time we arrived in Siem Reap the sky had fully cleared leaving large puddles of muddy water where dozens of children splashed happily. Capitol dropped us and its 30 or so other passengers off by the Central Market only to be greeted by hoards of tuk tuk drivers all fighting for the the right to transport us to any given guest-house for 2 USD. A frenzy, like sharks savagely fighting for the same small piece of raw meat. We opted for the uncle of Philippe’s new best friend that he met on the bus which infuriated the other drivers to no means.

We were tired and filthy. Arriving at the River Garden was blissful. Off the road well travelled and away from modern noise we recharged our batteries. Every little thing was graced with gratitude and planted in the present moment. The simple fact of breathing the freshness of clean air (after PP), open space, being received by a familiar face, Deb, the co-owner of the guest house whom we had met last December, a tastefully decorated room large enough to house 2 Cambodian families of 10 and the welcoming sound of frogs croaking from a tiny pond placed just in front of our doorway. The best of all, a shower. It is humbling to know that the simplest things (for some they remain monumental) in life can bring such pleasure and happiness.

Siem Reap holds a special place in our hearts. Its is mystical and beyond words. It is more a feeling and therefore loses all essence through words.

Confidently, we strolled down the semi-paved road lined with wooden huts and lingering fires containing large metal pots brewing traditional Khmer soup ”samlor” in every fashion. The last hut at the top of the road just before the park was occupied by an old Khmer who spoke a bit of conversational French. We first met him back in December. He was sitting crossed legged in front of his humble home. His face was marked by years of experience, war, loss, poverty, sickness and memory but his eyes remained open and friendly . During our brief visit, he would disappear for long moments to care for his bed ridden wife. She had spent days that turned into months suffering from some unknown illness. With medication hard to come by she suffered in the presence of her husband. He took out of his pocket an empty vial of some kind of pain killer that a backpacker had graciously left him. We offered to make a trip to the local pharmacy in search of something similar. Unfortunately without a prescription we were only able to provide something equivalent to Tylenol. It didn’t matter to him. He was gracious for what we had to offer. Months had passed since that chaleureux visit on one hot humid day in Siem and life in Switzerland had regained its force but our thoughts were often with him, his wife, his little shack and his warm smile. Today, almost 7 months later, we were eager to see him but the door to his hut was closed and only a dim light shown through the lose wooden slats that separated his world from the world outside. We decided not to disturb him nor his family and vowed to return before leaving Siem.

Into the darkness we walked hand in hand with a determined pace along the Siem Reap River until the lights of the city paved the way to Psar Chas, the Old Market, where restaurants and tuk tuk lined the crowded streets. We shared a delicious dinner of banana flower salad, shrimp curry, a Singha beer or two and some of the best home-made ice cream in the world from Pumpkins, ginger sesame, lime citronella sorbet and good old chocolate mint for Noa. With nightmares a thing of the past I finally slept a peacefuly night.

The beaten path

July 28, 2009June 10, 2012Jessica Magnin

Breakfast at 6h30am and on a tuk tuk by 8h00, we headed north off the beaten path (actually this was the beaten path!!!!!) 30 km north to Sambor Prei Kuk, a cluster of pre-Angkorian ruins/temples that were heavily bombed by B52s during the civil war of the mid 70’s. There is truth in what one says ” it is the journey that counts, the destination is less inviting”. The journey to Sambor was an adventure. Again, being the ONLY tourist in sight added and subtracted to and from the adventure. Deep into the countryside away from civilization as we know it, we were surrounded by stretches of rice fields speckled with a few wooden huts, groups of Khmer ankle deep planting rice, fishing in swampy muddy waters where random lotus flowers bloomed from beneath. Absent of any noise, trash or chaos life in the country seemed peaceful… where the time stood still.

The burnt orange stained dirt road to Sambor was heavily damaged with potholes larger and deeper than one could imagine. We passed through 2 villages of a dozen wooden shacks before arriving at the entrance in the middle of nothing but a free standing shed with a rusty sign ”tourist office” 3USD a person. Again, we were the ONLY tourists (slow season they said) and therefore greeted by a dozen local children each with a bundle of Kramas or scarfs in hand, all had exactly the same print and all selling them for the same price. How does one choose? We preferred their company and conversation in Khmer, French and English (they learn quickly picking up a phrase or two here and there from tourists when they do pass by. They even have the capitals of each country down to a T.)

The thickness of the forest made it difficult to find the ruins without the help of a guide who had worked extensively at the Angkor Conservation Centre (same as the Frenchman François Bizot whose life was spared by Douch during the Pol Pot regime). Although his English was still in the ”learning phase” we got the essential.100’s of small temples scattered through the forest yet only 3 are available for visiting as the remainder was damaged by heavy monsoon rains and bombardment by the Americans leaving crater like marks in the ground and remnants of brick and sand stone.The temples were dedicated to Shiva, Bhrama and Vishnu, Shiva being the most venerated. HAving studied a bit of Sanskrit, we all enjoyed finding Garuda, Nandi, Naga, Vishnu, Hanuman, Rama, Sita, Teo (simba), Govinda and learned that the lions (teo) used as gargoyles in front of the temple doors were only found on the east, north and south side- never the west as those that have died are buried with their heads pointing west and therefore absent of the control of the lion or mind/body.

A heavy rainstorm broke out keeping us from carrying onwards so we sought cover inside Shiva’s temple. The rain dropped from the sky falling like heavy beads flooding the grounds within minutes. And then, as fast as the storm had come, it quickly disappeared leaving a freshness in the air and pockets of blue sky. We regained our tuk tuk, had already said ”lia hao-y” to the groupies and the guide and expected to take off. The tuk tuk spit and puffed inching its way forward. With a good hour ahead of bumpy muddy roads and little life, Noa and I gave each other one of those looks. Thanks to Vishnu for preservation,Lakshimi for luck, Bhrama for creation and Philippe for restoration we were on our way careless and happy all the way home.

We arrived in Kompong Thom covered in mud, our hair (Noa’s and mine cause Philippe’s is just a wee bit short) matted and tangled from the rain and the wind, thorns adorned our baggy pants poking the skin but we didn’t care. We just wanted to make our friendly bus Capitol, the local local bus to Siem Reap and were so grateful when we did!. We were a sight and lucky that they let us board the bus.

Off to wondrous Siem Reap housing Angkor Wat, others worth gold and most of all our all time favorite BAYON which ironically symbolizes “between heaven and earth, Entre ciel & terre!!!!!”

Lia hao-y and be grateful for everything!!!

The local, local bus

July 27, 2009June 10, 2012Jessica Magnin

Capitol, the name of the local local bus, leaves every day at 7h30, 8h30 and 11h30 from the Central Market. Luckily, our fantastic suitcases could be instantly transformed into comfortable backpacks making mobility a bit easier. We hopped on the crowed bus, quite rudimentary but luxurious as it had a TV just above the driver’s head. I silently prayed that he had seen the film a 100 times and was more interested in the road than the beautiful Cambodians dancing about. The seats were covered in a cheap plastic of various shades of blue and red but had the amazing ability to fold back into a semi reclining position which made sleep come easily. BA, Air France, AA and the rest of the airline companies could learn something about the importance of comfort for their passengers! The ride was quite painless. Three hours of occasional bumps, endless open fields of emerald green rice paddies, stilted makeshift huts of bamboo and palm, lots of horn honking and cell phone ringing. We overtook tuk tuks, water bulls pulling wooden carts, hoards of bicycles, Lexus, lots of motor cycles and vespas and even a few stray dogs.

The bus dropped us off on the main strip of Kompong Thom which runs through the town and continues on to Siem Reap. During the mid-70’s, this road was severed by heavy bombing in-order to eradicate all contact and mobility between Siem and PP. Surprisingly, we were the only passengers that descended from the bus, which one might consider as not such a good sign. Kampong Thum, is well, sans intérêt to say the least. Off the main-strip, there are a few unpaved roads cluttered with trash, an outside food market, a school or two, 2 enormous trees housing thousands of gigantic oversized bats, a few restaurants and two hotels. Zero charm and super eery especially as we were the ONLY tourists at that particular moment. All eyes were on us especially Noa and in fact his popularity sky rocketed making him the most intriguing girl/boy (they couldn’t quite make him out) in town. Even the mosquitos loved him!

Hot and overly spent, we found a hotel for 8USD a night. We were their ONLY guests in this huge concrete block which made the experience even more bizarre. Within 15 minutes we had ”done” the town and searched for a restaurant. On a small side street we found Larry, an American living in PP commuting every weekend to oversee his café serving 12 or so items varying from traditional amok to pizza which all needs to be pre-ordered hours in advance. Larry’s wife wrote down the ingredients for our order. We made it simple- 3 steamed rice and Khmer curry with fish. Different then anything that we had ever had. A fusion between Indian and Khmer with the sweet taste of licorice. Supposedly, this recipe had been passed down from her great great great grandmother from some faraway village.

As the sun made its descent, dusk fell quickly upon Kompong Thom creating a soft attractive glow. Groups of elderly women all dressed in boxy button-down pajamas set out on foot for their evening exercise. Marching with synchronized short determined steps their arms swayed exaggeratedly along their sides casting obscure shadows on the cracked pavement below. They innocently giggled as our gaze caught theirs but continued without wavering. Little did we know but these boxy button-down pajamas either in brightly colored prints of well known icons (Mickey Mouse, Spiderman, Tintin) or the poke-a-dotted ones in flowery pastels had become a real fashion statement here in Kompong Thom. From the very young to the respected old, at 10h00, midday or for their evening walk everyone was dressed in these stylish ensembles. It appeared that the only criteria in making them a true fashion statement was that the top and the bottom HAD to match. I hesitated on buying an ensemble but realized that Philippe and Noa would have certainly left me to die in Kompong Thom, not really the place that I wanted to be.

We must say that that night was far from enjoyable. Our 8$ room was worth no more than 2$. Actually, I think that it would have been more appropriate if they would have paid us to stay there! A square with no window and no air, we felt like we had been buried alive. The night was suffocating, uncomfortable, a bit scary with strange noises, calls of geckos and howls of dogs. I wished that I had now agreed for the upgraded room (10 USD) with air-con. We might have slept in bits but no more than 92 minutes total. All we could think of was morning.

Lia hai

July 26, 2009June 10, 2012Jessica Magnin

Sua s’dei!

Not quite sure what day of the week it is as the hours and even seconds seem to melt into one another creating experiences that are beyond time. Up too early to mention with the ritual gong of metal pots awakening the monks for their morning prayers, my mind spins with thoughts of the girls. We leave today and I feel torn. This short time with them has changed us all and we yearn for it to last. As Noa continues to sleep silently by my side and Phiippe stirring from my restlessness, I slip from under the single sheet, dress quickly, and descend the steep spiral staircase in search of Arun, by all means the nicest and most humble of our hosts- a replica of a Buddhist monk without the orange robe. He greets me with the traditional ”sua sdei”, hands pressed together in prayer in front of the heart.

The rest of the world appears to be in deep slumber until I make my way out onto the large avenue Norodom Blvd via tuk tuk. Pi, the tuk tuk driver who calls me ”my friend” swiftly maneuvers his rusty vehicle through the insane early morning traffic reaching Transitional Cambodia just before 7-am. Jaya and a handful of the girls greet me at the entrance, eager for a hug and to show me their rooms. Unlike the other shelters that we spent time in, Transitional Cambodia was simple but spotless. Three to a tiny room, each with their own shelf for their personal possessions and the luxury of a toilet! They have a full schedule of cleaning their space, Khmer and English classes as well as computer and arts and crafts. The girls each have their own yoga mat and a sacred space with pictures of yoga positions pasted on the wall. They learn to develop curiosity, independence and responsibility in hopes that one day they will be able to care for themselves without the risk of returning to drugs and prostitution. N.Y, C.T, D.C, (names are concealed for protection), and Dara are seriously interested in continuing their yoga studies and hope to teach in their spare hours. For this, we would like to develop a sponsorship program for teaching yoga. I had tears and a torn heart saying good-bye to these angels.

Sandwiched between Jaya and Dara, we spun through the crowded streets on Dara’s motor cycle (a first in a long time). Thankfully Dara’s long black silky hair waved wildly in my face keeping me from seeing and wanting to control the craziness ahead. Between honks and touts, I listened to Jaya’s ”story” of her early life and that of some of the girls.. We parted with a few tears and promised to keep in touch ”lia hai, lia hai”.

Philippe and Noa were upstairs on the terrace savouring hot ginger tea, sweet banana pancakes, exotic fruit salad and lemon mint ice shakes. I arrived just in time for the best (well one of the best) meals of the day! Isabelle and Dara met us for the feast while sharing some last minute ideas for future work with us and the girls. We were sad to say good bye but had a bus to catch and an adventurous one at that.