Angkor in Cambodia
Postcards from Another Edge
Do They Know it’s Christmas?
I love Christmas: chestnuts roasting on an open fire, tiny tots with their eyes all aglow, yuletide carols being sung by a choir, and folks dressed up like Eskimos. It’s a magical time of the year when we gather together with friends from years past and share in good food and good fellowship. Unfortunately, I knew I wasn’t getting much of that while living in Korea. So I decided to take a hint from the Dead Kennedys and spend my holiday in Cambodia.
The trip was a very emotional experience for me. I was both thrilled to be in a new place (and a hot place) and depressed to be alone. However, as always on vacations, I was able to quickly make some friends. Expats always amaze me in that regard. You are never truly alone. Everywhere you go, people latch onto each other and friendships are born. In they’re own way, those friendships are mini-miracles.
Hostels can either be really cool or really crappy. The Mad Monkey hostel in Siem Reap is the former – and like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. The managers and staff went out of their way to bring all the guests together and make everyone feel comfortable. They created an environment that felt like home. Everyone who chose to participate enjoyed a legitimate Christmas complete with Eve and Day celebrations (turkey dinner with stuffing and malted wine with plum pudding!). But what amazed me even more than what expats do for each other is what they do for the local community.
You may not know much about Cambodia however, if you’re at all familiar with Southeast Asia, then you’ve got a pretty good idea. It’s one of the poorer regions of the world; most definitely third-world. During one of the many celebrations that took place in the hostel during my brief stay, the song, “Do They Know it’s Christmas?” played and I found myself tuning out of the conversation and paying close attention to the lyrics.
“There’s a world outside your window,
And it’s a world of dreaded fear.
Where the only water flowing,
Is the bitter sting of tears.”
In November 1984, Bob Geldof put together a coterie of British and Irish musicians called Band-Aid who recorded a benefit single to help the famine that was taking place in Ethiopia. The result was a song featuring over two dozen top rock artists from George Michael to Bono. You have undoubtedly heard this song before. And until this year, it didn’t really carry much meaning for me – no more than the rest of you. But that changed after spending this Christmas in a third-world country swimming in poverty.
Hostels aren’t typically segregated from the local community in the way five-star resorts are. In fact, more often than not, they’re plopped right smack dab in the middle of the cheapest real estate in town. Siem Reap is a very touristy small town but you don’t have to travel far to catch a glimpse of the real Cambodia… it’s closer than crossing the street. A few of the other visitors delivered donated food to an orphanage per day while they were there (I even chipped in myself).
Cambodians don’t celebrate Christmas and as such, I saw no lights strung around windows nor plastic Santas with 8 tiny reindeer. Except for the decorations the expats hung in the hostel, there was no way to differentiate the week of the winter solstice from any other during the year. Most Cambodians are generally more concerned with finding their next meal. And worse than the hunger is what some people do about it – they sell their children.
Exploited children pour into the streets of both Siem Reap and Phnom Penh attempting to cull a few dollars from any generous (and naive) tourists. While the younger ones only have to dance or sell flowers, the older ones (girls and boys, sometimes as young as 13) offer ‘full body massages’. I shouldn’t have to spell that out for you. In a country of over 17 million people, there are over 600,000 orphaned or abandoned children. Secondary school enrollment hovers around 30% (a huge drop as primary school is in around 86%).
Of course, the smiling little faces of dancing kids are cute. But 9 times out of 10, those tips they make don’t stay in their pockets for very long. The best case scenario is that their parents keep the money. That being said, it’s rare to find parents holding the other end of the leash. Just like their teenage massaging counterparts, these defenseless youngsters are working for local pimps. The Lonely Planet guide mentions some of this but doesn’t explain the dangers tourists pose to these children just by tossing a dollar or two into their baskets. Every single penny increases the horrific tradition of child exploitation.
On Christmas night I observed one visitor in particular: a white man (not sure of his nationality) in his 60s and probably pushing 300 lbs, walk right up to a girl, politely smile and strike up a conversation. Within minutes, this 14 or 15 year old girl was on his arm climbing into a tuk-tuk. The driver, most likely affiliated with her pimp, shuttled the new couple off to his hotel room. And this was on Christmas day.
On Christmas Day!
The only old fat man I want to see on Christmas wears a red suit that shakes his belly when he laughs like a bowl full of jelly. I wouldn’t want to see what this other guy was shaking. And it’s pretty safe to assume, that wasn’t on the girl’s Christmas list either.
That girl and the thousands of others who come from poor villages in Cambodia, Vietnam, and Thailand have most likely never received a Christmas present. They have never been taught about gift giving or more importantly the reason for the season. They don’t have families to spend time with. Hell, they don’t even have families they can trust to protect them as these girls (and boys) are sold into sexual servitude by their very own parents! No biggie right, one less mouth to fill…
As far as the sex trade, there are over 15,000 girls between the ages of 15-18 working the streets of Phnom Penh (Cambodia’s capital city), most of whom are brought in from neighbor Vietnam (sometimes China) and put under strict contracts up to a year. The girls sleep in crowded rooms and are slapped around by their handlers – mistreated in every way and typically underfed. The club owners and pimps pay the international traffickers between $450-$700 for each attractive girl 16 years or younger (17 and up only fetch between $200-$250). This is the debt the girls work off, and pocket less than $5 per customer themselves.
The bottom line is that sex tourism in and around Southeast Asia is a huge problem that feeds the beast of underage sex trafficking. The only way to get through to the pimps is to undercut their profit margins. That means, men have to stop paying for sex altogether. Only when the pimps believe they can’t make money any more will these horrible tragedies slow and hopefully eventually fade away. And that’s a new years resolution we can all get behind.
So as you sit in the comforts of your home, with your loved ones gathered around you this season, please don’t take a single second of it for granted. You don’t have to go all the way to Southeast Asia to find teenage girls trapped in the sex trade.
Until Next Time…
-Justin
An Unexpected Journey
Call me Pip.
If you’re scratching your head at the reference, you were playing hooky during English Lit in high school. Pip is the central character Charles Dickens’ Great Expectations. He’s an orphan given a second chance at a successful life by a mysterious benefactor (couldn’t we all use one of those), but constantly falls short as he strives for greatness. Like Pip, I constantly attempt to improve my life circumstances and myself as a person. When I set a goal, I work hard to achieve it. When I meet a good person, I do my best to imitate him or her, aiming for the moral or ethical high ground. For 33 years, my reach has always exceeded my grasp.
Perhaps that’s why I moved to Asia. I saw an opportunity to travel (something I haven’t been able to afford to do a lot of). I saw an opportunity to save money (again, something most Americans now only dream about). I saw an opportunity to finish my novel (6 years in the making). And finally, I saw an opportunity to go on an adventure.
Call me Bilbo.
At the beginning of J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit, the reader is introduced to a very complacent half-ling from a rural community who leads a very conventional and simple life. In spite of being in his sixties, Bilbo’s never left the Shire, never experienced what the rest of Middle Earth has to offer. Which is why Gandalf and 13 vertically challenged dwarfs yanked him from his cozy hobbit hole and threw him to the wargs.
My first six months living abroad have been filled with many adventures, both external and internal. As you are no doubt aware, there’s been a great deal of self-reflection illustrated in my writing. With Christmas rapidly approaching (and having reached the mid-point of this first year), I find myself analyzing my life more and more. How have I changed or grown in the past six months? Am I a better person than I was? Has my life gotten better? There are hundreds of other questions too – some of which have been answered and the rest, well let’s just say the jury’s still out.
Alexander Pope said, “Blessed is he who expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed.” Pip’s view of reality is consistently shattered when his plans don’t quite pan out. Bilbo, on the other hand, spends most of the novel agonizing over the possibility of the worst happening only to step up and save the day when push comes to shove.
Other than being short (and having hairy feet), I try to be more like Bilbo than Pip – which isn’t easy at all. My benefactors, who provided me with the many amazing opportunities of my childhood were my parents. However, that childhood created the adult I am today: a man who has high expectations of life, himself, and everyone around him. Conditioned to take things for granted, I developed an unhealthy need to attain perfection around every corner. Remember Fight Club? “No matter what happens, I’ve got that couch problem solved.” Not only is life imperfect but it’s unfair and imbalanced.
(The stars are out to get me as I was born under the scales sign with a name that means justice).
None of us starts out on an even playing field; we are all victims of the unchangeable circumstances of our birth. It’s a phenomenon existentialist philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre named Facticity (aka Heidegger’s Thrownness). His theory simply states that we have no control over our genetics, when and where we’re born, and our childhood environment. We can only play the hand we’re dealt. Few people are dealt royal flushes and the ones who are, never grasp what people dealt a pair of deuces have to live through. It’s both nature and nurture. I have always considered myself very fortunate in the facticity of my childhood.
My adulthood is a whole other story. I try to live without regret and, looking back on my decisions, there are many I’d repeat. There are some I would change if I could: undergraduate major, loans and credit card debt, where to live, who deserved my trust (and who didn’t). Of all of these, the worst decision I ever made was leaving California.
Don’t get me wrong, there were a lot of lessons I learned and a lot of wonderful people I met during my time home (heck I wouldn’t be in Korea now if I hadn’t met one of them). Peaks and valleys… My expectations for both cross country moves were high. I felt like I sacrificed a lot to move to California and even more to move back east. Each time, the reality of disappointment came violently crashing down all around me.
Growing up, I played a lot of video games. The early ones (N.E.S. and Atari) were easy – you could finish the game in an hour or so. But the second generation games took much longer to finish so the software development companies introduced the concept of ‘Saving’. If your mom called you for dinner, just turn off the console and return to the same spot later. Additionally, a saved game prevented you from making any mistakes. If you died, screwed up, or missed something important, a saved game was essentially a do-over (many boys use do-overs to solve many discrepancies during recess).
Unfortunately, there are no do-overs in the real world. If there were, I would’ve reset at 15 to redo the past 18 years… while selecting a few choice moments to alter. I’d study harder and work through college. I’d respect women more. I’d try to save Kim’s life. I’d choose Yale or Princeton over UCF and an economics degree over film and audio production (though I probably still would’ve done a writing minor and definitely would’ve sang in the glee club and an a cappella group). I also wouldn’t have put any faith in the ‘love‘ a twenty-four year old girl convinces herself she’s feeling. And I’d fix things with Corky (believe it or not, this is the most important one).
I recently visited a friend in Seoul and it goes without saying we went to see The Hobbit. Being my first visit to the capital, I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect at all but what I saw surprised the heck out of me. Seoul was a lot like any city in America: westerners everywhere, signs written in English, and literally hundreds of cheeseburger joints, taco stands, and places to get Sunday brunch. The trip was truly eye opening.
At times, living in Daegu hasn’t been very easy. It’s hard for anyone to adapt to a foreign land and culture. But the truth of the matter is if I had chosen Seoul, I wouldn’t have had to adapt much at all. What’s the point of moving halfway around the world to a place similar to Boston or Chicago? I can’t see how any of the teachers who end up there leave their comfort zones at all (insert one of a million cliches here).
For months, I questioned the decision to come to Korea. I questioned the choice of Daegu over Seoul. It was eating me up inside and I had no way of knowing whether this experience would’ve been better in a city slightly more welcoming to foreigners. After the trip, I can report that the grass isn’t always greener on the other side… that’s just a trick of light. The grass is green in Daegu, it’s green in Seoul, it’s green in Los Angeles, and it’s green in the Garden State.
Blessed is he who expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed.
I can’t promise to never be disappointed again – oftentimes, we can’t help it. That being said, I do need to lower my expectations. I don’t want to settle for lower standards but maybe lowering expectations isn’t settling. Maybe it’s just about compromising more. No matter what I do, the earth will keep turning; days will become years. I can’t slow it down or stop it. I can’t skip ahead and I can’t redo the past. All any of us are capable of doing is making the best decision we can at any given moment and moving forward.
I want to be the kind of person others aspire to emulate. I pray for the wisdom to make good decisions every day. I hope this old dog can learn some new tricks because I’m sick and tired of taking things for granted and being disappointed with reality. Someday, I want to fondly look back on my life from a place of happiness, knowing that my life was one worth living.
Until Next Time…
-Justin
The Festival Circuit – Part II: The Autumn Festivals
Back in September I began a post that would become a series. Today I bring to you the much anticipated second installment. Without any further adieu, The Festivals of Korea – Autumn!
- Yangyang Songi Mushroom Festival – Known to many as ‘golden mushrooms,’ ‘diamonds in the woods,’ and ‘mystic and magical mushrooms,’ songi mushrooms that naturally grow under old pine trees, are strictly prohibited from public access. However, if you go to the Yangyang Songi Festivals, you can tour the natural habitat of these luxurious and precious mushrooms, pick them, and sample dishes made with them.
- Andong Maskdance Festival – The Andong region has many highly renowned historic and cultural sites, such as Hahoe Village, however the major cultural attraction of the region is the Andong Maskdance Festival. The traditional mask dances are an important part of Korea’s heritage, in particular thebyeolsingut talnori dance, which has been designated an Important Intangible Cultural Asset of Korea. International mask dance troupes have also been invited to the festival, so not only will you have a chance to see many local Korean performances but you’ll also be exposed to folk cultures from around the world. You can even take dance lessons yourself.
- Gyeongju Liquor and Rice Cake Festival – The Gyeongju Rice Cake and Korean Traditional Drink Festival is a great opportunity to sample and shop for mouth-watering delicacies and home-brewed liquors from all regions of Korea, participate in the ancient royal tea ceremony, and learn traditional dining culture.
- Ceramics Festival of Gimhae – ‘Buncheongsagi‘ (blue porcelain)is a type of ceramic ware used during the 15th and 16th centuries, during the transition period from Cheongja (green porcelain) to Baekja (white porcelain). This Korean-style ceramic ware has received high acclaim for the simplicity of its beauty. This festival takes place in October every year in Gimhae, Korea’s most famous ceramic village. This festival sells this special ceramic ware, such as tea cups, made in the traditional methods and you can watch them being made or make some yourself. I’m not sure if the green and white pottery have festivals of their own…
- Gagopa Chrysanthemum Festival – Since its inception in 1960, chrysanthemum farming in Changwon has proliferated, accounting for 13% of nationwide chrysanthemum farming. The Changwon Gagopa Chrysanthemum Festival presents numerous exhibitions, cultural programs, food tasting, and many more. Yeah, so basically it’s a bunch of flowers.
- Gwangju World Kimchi Culture Festival – The Gwangju Kimchi Festival celebrates what could be called Korea’s national food, kimchi. The festival is full of exhibitions, educational and hands-on programs, and more kimchi than you can shake a stick at. Thanks to the wide open plains and easy access to Seohae (West Sea) and Namhae (South Sea) waters, Gwangju continues to cultivate bountiful products like rice and a variety of seafood, which are used as the basic ingredients for the region’s diverse delicacies. For more information about kimchi, you can read Fork It Over, my previous entry.
- Sunchang Fermented Soybean Festival – The Sunchang Fermented Sauce Festival is held every fall at Sunchang, a city of health and longevity. Sunchang hot pepper sauce, which used to be presented to the Royal Family during the Joseon Dynasty, has many health benefits: it is believed to be beneficial in preventing cancer and obesity. As people get more interested in their health and well-being, the hot sauce has become an even greater part of the Korean diet. The venue of the festival is Hot Sauce Folk Village, a Mecca of Sunchang Hot Sauce. The range of events at this festival include percussion performances, painting contests, photo exhibitions, and a hot sauce cook-off!
- Jinju Namgang Yudeung Festival – Also known as the Jinju Lantern Festival, the tradition of floating lanterns on Namgang River in Jinju City dates back to the 1592 Japanese invasion of Korea. In October 1592, during a battle between over 20,000 Japanese and only 3,000 Korean soldiers (the Siege of Jinju Fortress), Jinju people flew lanterns high up in the sky as a military signal and communication tool with soldiers outside the fortress, while floating lanterns and torches along Namgang River.
The Full Monty
This past weekend some of the guys and I decided, since we had recently been paid, to head out for some Christmas shopping. While we walking around the mall, we spotted a sign for a place called SpaLand. Figuring we could all use a relaxing time, it was decided to give this place a shot. And thus began my first experience with a Korean bath house, or Jjimjilbang.
Jjimjilbang’s are gender segregated hot baths. The men are herded to one side while the women to the other. Once inside, there are saunas, jacuzzis, and showers. After your hot tub experience, the genders are brought back together for more treats: massages, foot baths, cafes, sleeping mats, dvd viewing rooms, and steam rooms. All of which sets a more Zen-like mood than a feng-shui rock garden.
It probably goes without saying that since I had never experienced anything quite like this before I was both excited and apprehensive. I didn’t know what to expect as we paid the cashier and took the escalator up a flight. Obviously, my mind was picturing something like this:
Unfortunately, I was somewhat disappointed because in actuality, this is much more accurate:
Join me as I walk you through my inaugural visit…
As in all Korean establishments, the first garment of clothing you lose upon entering are your shoes. Lockers are conveniently placed by the entrance and, after you pay the $12.00, you’re given a number. This number is the locker number for your shoes and then once you’re inside, a separate locker for your clothes. Not only that, but this number stays with you, allowing you to charge everything you buy to it, similar to a hotel room. Before you leave, they tally your bill and you pay.
The first thing you do in a Korean Bath House is get naked. Once you’re naked, and surrounded by dozens of other naked Korean men (some as young as 13 but most old enough to by your father or grandfather), you head into the wet bath room. It’s a huge room full of multiple hot and cold tubs of various temperatures. You can hop into a scalding hot pool, a freezing cold one, one with jets, or another with beds in the water.
There’s even a bucket of ice water tied to a string that you can stand beneath and dunk yourself (or your buddy – who will invariably scream like a little girl and send the old men covering what little packages they may have and running for the hills).
You can jump between tubs too. Start hot, get cold. Whatever you want! Have a ball… have two balls. There are plenty to go around.
When you’re tired of the tubs, there are a handful of saunas (again of varying temperatures) so you can sweat your ass off. I’ve never in my life seen so many unattractive, naked, old, Asian men in the same place and at the same time before. And if you tell me you hate being stared at in public by strangers, I DON’T WANNA HEAR IT… EVER!!!
After the wet bath room, it’s time to head into the common areas. But don’t leave without showering up though. Koreans are nothing if not spic and span. And the spa provides plenty of towels, soap, body wash, shampoo, shaving cream, hair gel, mousse, blow dryers, after shave, and cologne.
Once you put your robes back on you get to see the women (seems backwards to me, but whatever). Both ladies and men’s jjimjilbang rooms (that’s slightly redundant since the Korean word ‘bang’ translates to ‘room’) empty into a long hallway. At the end of the hallway is the second most relaxing place I’ve ever been (other than the Caribbean white sand beaches). Hard wood floors separated mini pools everywhere in which people waded their feet to soak the salts into their skin. Additionally, the spa featured another dozen different varieties of coed (finally) steam rooms. One had an Egyptian theme, another was Roman, and a third was Turkish.
Couples young and old, walked hand in hand through the gardens and grounds and even cuddled next to each other on sleeping mats while sharing granola and yogurt treats. The boys and I decided to head upstairs to get massages. Options, options, options. They offered so many options, I wasn’t sure what to choose. They offered Korean, Swedish, Deep tissue, and a handful of others for $100 an hour. We chose a more limited massage: 50 minute upper body/feet for about $60. It wasn’t the best massage I’ve ever had but it was good enough.
By the time we were ready to leave, we had spent over an hour sweating, another hour getting the knots in our backs and shoulders worked out, and another hour snoozing in the Zen garden. I’ve never been more relaxed in my life. I felt like I was on a vacation. If you live near a place labeled: Korean Bath House, and you’re not faint of heart (or shy… at all… in any way…), I highly recommend giving it a shot.
With any luck, next time, I’ll see what the ladies side is like. Of course, I’ve never been very lucky.
Until Next Time…
-Justin
Lost in Translation 