Good Ol’ Gutter Walkin’

I’ve completely been slacking on the ol’ travel blog so here’s is a little update:

Traffic: Traffic here is completely and utterly miserable. I’ve completely gotten over my phobia of sitting on the back of a motorcycle while it zigzags between cars. And I’ve completely gotten over the thrill of jamming my body into small crevices on the bus while it zooms through the city street-slamming on its breaks to pick up another sardine-but never yielding to other cars. The problem for me is not when I’m in/on a vehicle in the traffic; it’s when I’m walking on the side of the road. There are no real sidewalks here, so you just walk along the side of the road amidst the mayhem and pray to God/Buddha/Krishna and all the other Hindu Gods to get you to your final destination in one piece. Usually, this means that I’m walking in the gutters which are filled with trash, dead rats and other…things. It’s really a lovely experience. They say people come to Nepal to trek…well, I’ve experienced my fair share of trekking and I haven’t even made it to a mountain yet.

Home life: Home life is….well….I’ve had better. To sum it up in a nutshell, I would rather be anywhere than the hostel. It is actually getting a little better now that Shila (homestay mom) and I have been bonding (she hugs me and tells me she loves me every day haha), and that Mooscan (little girl) has stopped screaming at the top of her lungs every second that she gets. But still, there is absolutely NOTHING to do there, and there is a serious lack of privacy. I feel like I did when I was living in India and our cook had no sense of personal space, but this is worse because it is a whole family. Luckily, the other interns and I are bonding quite nicely so we’ve been going out on the town a lot.

Birthday: I have spent yet another birthday away from home….which was not as bad as my birthday in Africa or India, mostly because I was able to drink. So…always a good time there. The night started out at OR2K (which is my new Coffee Garden…for those of you Salt Lake folk that know my obsession) and then we (James, Justin and I) meandered to the most incredible dinner of my life. And when I say incredible, I actually mean GOD AWFUL. The service at dinner was soo bad (took at least 2 hours to get our eats) and then when I got my seemingly simple pesto pasta there were mushrooms and other forms of nastiness floating around in it. Yes, mushrooms…my favorite. Clearly they didn’t get the memo that I have a secret phobia of mushrooms. The highlight of the meal however was the little stray kitten who crawled up on the table to munch on our leftovers…even this little guy was suspicious of my mushroom delight.

Then, we had heard about this “awesome show” that was going on by some Attila something-or-another from Europe who has been living in India and was gracing Nepal with his presence. Because dinner took so long, we were only able to catch the last 1 or 2 hippie songs which basically consisted of him repeating “Ohhh yeahhhh…” over and over again. Needless to say, I was NOT impressed. It was actually more comical than anything though so I got in plenty of giggles, and was the perfect end to the night.





Work: Work is not at all what I had expected. I think I had mentioned that I was going to work for the Human Rights News and Research Center, but plans changed. (Always have to remain flexible!) I am hoping that the work that I’m doing at this new organization is more beneficial than what I would have been doing at the other, but now I’m working for a radio network. It is not “legal” in any sense of the word. However, they are in the initial phases of implementing a radio program on Peace and Democracy and they have me doing human rights research to demonstrate the “need” for the program-and THAT is what I came here to do. Also, UNICEF is looking to broadcast news stories on child rights issues throughout the country, so the other day I had to write a letter of interest to collaborate with them. Hopefully that works out. It seems like a very effective way of communicating some of the major issues going on in the country. Speaking of which:

General Child Issues: According to the UNICEF website, 50,000 children die in Nepal each year-60% as a result of malnutrition. 50% of children in Nepal are underweight. 75% of mothers are anemic. Maternal mortality rates are high because of a poor health system, limited access to emergency obstetric care and the poor status of women.

Post-Conflict Children’s Issues: In January of 2010, the first group of young people was discharged from the Maoist Army. These children now face the rehabilitation process with the opportunity to gain new skills, return to school or learn a trade. The complete discharge is scheduled to be completed by February 2010. While this is a step in the right direction, it is essential to realize the challenges that come with child soldiers who try to reintegrate into society. It is difficult for them to relate to their families and their new way of life-and that is IF their families support their return. Many child soldiers are cast aside and displaced by their own families because of their status.

Slums: One of the other interns that I’m living (James) was walking around the city the other day and was approached by this very friendly Indian man who, after speaking with him for a while, invited him to have lunch with his family. James was kind enough to invite me-with the warning that he didn’t think that this man had much money. I thought it would be a good opportunity to see how the other side of the world lives, so I agreed to go.

The fact that this man didn’t have much money was the understatement of the year. We met him at a Buddha Stupa and then walked to his home. His home was a one room shack that he shared with his wife, child, brother, sister-in-law, and their 3 kids in a shanty town. The family was incredibly and heartbreakingly hospitable and fed us traditional Indian food which they prepared by a fire in a hole in the corner of their shack. It was especially difficult to experience when he was explaining how there are many days where he can’t afford to feed his family at all. The guilt/sadness/helplessness that James and I felt was overwhelming.

At the end of lunch, the man asked James if he would buy him a shoe shining box so that he could make a living. It put James in a very awkward position. I’m not sure if I mentioned this, but James is a photojournalist. He was planning on making a story out of the whole situation (with the man’s permission of course). While we both wanted to empty our pockets for this man, James couldn’t do it because he didn’t want to remain impartial to the story. The question is: why didn’t I? I understand James’ position (although, since then I’ve spoken with him, and he’s experiencing serious guilt about the whole thing) but what about ME? Why didn’t I buy this man a shoe shining box? Why didn’t I offer to help him out?

It got to the point where I was thinking, “Where do you draw the line? How far do you go in a situation like this?” It is my job to report on the sickening poverty that Nepal is facing and other human rights abuses that are taking place. I hope that this work encourages the local government and the international community on some level to respond to the needs of the Nepali people. But in actuality, what is it that I’m actually doing? Will it make a difference at all? Should I have just given this poor man what he needed? I’m still not sure if I can come to peace with the decision I made.






Peace. Love. Soul Searching.

The Streets Were Alive….With the Sound of MUSIC

I’m in love I’m in love! I thought I knew love….but no….not until today! Friends, family, acquaintances, today, I’ve officially fallen head over heels in love with Kathmandu!

With my camera, rupees, sunglasses, & Jane Eyre in stow, I set off on a solo adventure...(channeling my inner Elizabeth Gilbert). I stopped in a couple different bakeries, sipped on Fanta (oh how I love me some orange soda), took some photos and found a yoga ashram to attend in the mornings for only Rs. 300 (about $4). I lasted about two hours on my own (well, Jane Eyre was there, and mighty entertaining, but I was basically alone) when I felt like I should go home and get some real food in me.



After lunch, James (the other intern staying at my hostel) and I trekked to Thamel…and here ladies and gentlemen is where it happened. My jaw dropped, my eyes widened, pink, purple and red hearts started bursting out of my body and I felt it:LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT. Thamel is a tourist Mecca, and now I know why. The crowded streets were lined with bookshops and shops selling clothing, trekking gear, jewelry, postcards and anything else you could ever desire. It was charming, colorful, engaging, friendly...better than a man! I’m going to have to limit my time spent there because I could easily drop some serious cash in a place like that.



After meandering a bit on my own while James ran some errands, we dropped into this darling little café. It was perfect. We sat on the ground on over-sized cushions and sipped ice teas, ate hummus, and people-watched. A mix of Jack Johnson and India Arie played in the background while the breeze blew through the open windows decorated in embroidered silk curtains.

We made it back to the hostel just in time…the monsoon started right as we stepped in the door. It was as though the city was not going to allow the weather to alter my enchantment.

To end the most delightful day, I discovered that James can play my favorite Ray LaMontagne songs and indulged me and the kids in a little musical entertainment. I couldn't have asked for more.

Peace. Love. Thamel.

Out on the Town

Nardev and I spent the day together touring Kathmandu on motorcycle. I was a little nervous at first, since the traffic is so hectic and I pretty much HATE the whole concept of motorcycles, but my nerves were eased when I realized how fun it was. It was the perfect way to get a taste of the city-especially on a hot day with the wind was brushing past my face.

We visited the “Monkey Temple” first. Swayambhunath is one of the holiest Buddhist sites in Kathmandu. The monkeys roam the walkways and temples-as do stray dogs and pigeons. I spent a long time looking through the little shops, talking and bartering with the sellers, and buying souvenirs.




We also stopped and had lunch-rice and daal (or lentil soup) and I guzzled down a jug of “Aqua Pure” water…today was HOT and I’m trying to avoid dehydration. Nardev started talking to me about work. I was asking what the people were like at Human Rights News and Research Center…and he basically told me that I didn’t have to work there if I didn’t want to. ??? I was a little puzzled by this, but he went on to say that I could meet with another organization tomorrow to see if it was a better fit. This other organization is a Peace and Democracy org which apparently works within the Nepali court system and with larger organizations like…UNICEF. Um…no big deal…just my dream job. The dude in charge is looking for an intern who speaks English eloquently and who will be able to help seek funding from these larger orgs. Sign me up!! So, I have a meeting with him tomorrow at 4:00. BIG SMILE!!!

After the “Monkey Temple” we took a short ride to Buddha Park. It was much smaller in size, but is home to three enormous Buddha statues, each a different stage of his life.



Finally, we stopped by a cremation, but I wasn’t really into watching the sacred ritual, so we decided to leave. I think that watching from a distance is sufficient. I would hate to have some random tourist at my families’ cremation ceremony.

That’s all for now…

Peace. Love. Buddha.

Home Sweet Home

22 hours of air-time, and who knows how long total with layovers, and I’ve made it to my final destination-and in one piece ta boot! My flight from good ol’ Chi-town was delayed… I originally only had an hour and ten minute layover at Heathrow, which I was concerned about to begin with, (I remembered how enormous that airport is and how many hoops you have to jump through to check in/go through security/etc). When we finally landed, we were 30 minutes late. After being stuck in the security line for 15 minutes I finally spotted a TSA worker (or whatever they’re called in the UK), flagged her down, and was rushed to the front of the line. Of course, by the time I made it out of security it was too late…my gate was closed.

After a long string of internal cursing, I went to American Airlines to figure out what to do…positive that I was totally screwed. Thankfully, they re-booked me through Doha, Qatar…which actually only delayed my trip 15 minutes and took out my long layover in Delhi. (“Is that okay ma’am? It’s the Middle East-you know, like Iraq.”) Don’t ask me what the Middle East is like…I was there for approximately a blink of an eye-and at night. However, the city looked pretty all lit up, and I couldn’t help but feel a small connection to Carrie Bradshaw (as Abu Dhabi was within spittin’ distance).

Occurrences/Observations of the Flights:

1. Traveling with twin toddler boys looks like hell. But parents of said twin boys looked like a mix between Mother Theresa and warriors.

2. Sat next to the most awkward, fat, teenage little redhead on my way to London. I’m thrilled I’m past that phase...not that I ever went through a fat redhead stage...

3. I met a lady in Doha who was 44 years old, single, and from Portland, Maine. She was on her way to Nepal to adopt an 18 month little boy. I’ve never met a more deserving mum. She seemed composed and ridiculously eager. She even packed a little green baby blanket covered in frogs on her carry-on. Tender.

4. Single lady from Portland also told me to “follow my big dreams. Because those are the ones that propel you. Don’t worry about the little dreams. They’ll fall into place along the way.”

5. First impression of Nepali women: negative. I sat next to a lady who seemed to be my age on my way from Doha to Kathmandu. She never spoke a word, and glared at me the whole time. I realized she didn’t speak English and decided to take off my judgmental pants.

6. Movies watched: Leap Year (not so great), An American in Paris (love), An Affair to Remember (love), and Invictus (didn’t get to finish it though…bummer).

When I got to the Kathmandu airport, I looked around at the sea of Nepali faces holding signs with American names. My name was nowhere to be seen. (More internal cursing and fear was settling in of being conned).

“The charm of adventure sweetens that sensation, the glow of pride warm is; but then the throb of fear disturbs it; and fear with me became predominant when half an hour elapsed, and still I was alone.” –Jane Eyre

Finally, Nardev showed up…only 45 minutes late. I got into the tiny taxi and was whisked through the twisty streets of Kathmandu.

First impression of Kathmandu: positive…in fact, more like enchanted. There is a constant hustle and bustle, people wandering through the streets on foot and by bike, cars barely missing one another as they zoom through the tiny spaces in traffic, and little shops selling spices, vegetables, bangles etc.





When we made it to the hostel, it was like walking into heaven. (Finally home sweet home.) It is more run down than the pictures suggested, but it is still charming in its own right. I’ll be living here with Nardev, his wife Seelah, their two children (girl is 5-cute as a button, and boy is 12) and 3 other interns. My room is small, and has two twin size beds (which I’m assuming means that I won’t be alone for the whole summer). We all share one bathroom, we only get 1 hour of water/day, and electricity goes in and out throughout the day. Luckily, the water is hot, and I have wireless internet-that mostly works-when we have electricity...gotta count my blessings!




There is another intern here right now from Washington D.C. I just got the scoop on him…He was in the military, then worked on a tugboat on the East Coast, went to school for photography, and is now here as a journalism/photography intern. He seems quiet and reserved, but has already won the hearts of the kids with his guitar.

I don’t think I’ve ever been so exhausted in my life. I’m eager to go wander the streets, but I can barely keep my eyes open (and it’s only 6:12 as I’m writing this). Time for another nap….let’s just hope they don’t perceive me as the lazy American in Nepal.

Peace. Love. Jetlag.

Estimated Time of Arrival: 8:15 AM June 1st

In a mere 9 days, I'll be off on another adventure; this time to Nepal! I will be working with the Human Rights News and Research Center in Kathmandu for two months conducting legal research and focusing on the rights of women and children.

After a minor panic attack the other day, I'm feeling much more calm and excited to leave. I emailed my contact and bombarded him with about a million questions about basic logistics-the email situation, accommodations, etc. He sent me pictures of the hostel I'll be living in (it looks beautiful!) and said I'll have wireless internet. He also said there will be 3 other western interns-big sigh of relief! It will be great to have people there that I can relate to. Hopefully I won't be as lonesome as I had originally anticipated.

Typical Room in the hostel:

Outside of the hostel:


So, now I'm in major preparation mode. Packing, packing, packing galore! I also have to finish up a couple papers for school before I leave, which is a bummer, but I'm not too worried about them....

More later!
Peace, Love, and Packing!

Vietnam

Vietnam:
Today Jade and I woke up and walked to a breakfast café along the river and ate crepes (mine with a scoop of ice cream) and melted in the beautiful sunshine. It has been a few days since I have seen the sun-it has mostly been overcast skies and rain.



A little later, we packed up and got ready for our 2.5 hour boat trip to Vietnam. Carrying my bags is beginning to be a bit of a burden to say the least. I worry that if a gust of wind comes my way, I’ll be knocked over. I certainly was NOT appreciative of the sun while I was hauling all of my belongings to the boat. I was dripping in sweat. Luckily, our boat was a small speed boat that fit our group of 12 and 4 other travelers. I spent the boat ride reading my newest novel, “The Kite Runner,” and looking out the window at the peaceful river and green shores of Cambodia.

Stepping off of the boat and onto the Cambodian immigration site was like stepping onto a slice of paradise! The palm trees rustled in the breeze, as we walked single file on an old, dilapidated dock, hopped down onto a dirt mound and stood for a short moment while our passports were checked and stamped. Then, we took a short 3 minute boat ride in no-man’s-land to get to Vietnam’s border.

At the Vietnam border, everything was going smoothly and I decided to sit on the boat-despite the fact that I was dripping in sweat and continue reading. Before I knew it, I realized that I had read 50 pages, and we were nowhere near getting our passports back. What was the hold up? Apparently, an older American couple who was traveling on our boat (not part of our group) was having trouble. The gentleman, a burly man with a curly mustache had no room on his passport to get it stamped and the Vietnamese border patrol was refusing to let him into the country. Stupidly, the man ripped off his visa to China and told them to stamp his passport in the newly empty space. This just pissed off the men in charge and they wouldn’t budge to allow him or his wife into the country. We had to send one of our diplomats to urge the man to let it go and let us take them back to Cambodia so that they could contact the US Embassy there. After a little coaxing, he came to his senses and apologetically came back to the boat after almost 3 hours! The whole situation kind of made me embarrassed because everyone was just in awe of how stupid this man had been and thought he was insane for thinking that by throwing a fit, he could get his way. I wondered if people thought that he was being “a typical American,” or if I was just being strangely paranoid. Either way, I feel like when you travel to another country, even though you are an individual, you are consequently representing your country. To act like a fool only reflects poorly on the place that you call home.

After dropping off our bags (and after a full day of traveling by boat, sitting in the heat and sweating) we jumped on some motorcycles to head up to a mountain to watch the sunset. It felt refreshing as the wind beat against my face and thrilling as we turned each corner, or dodged another oncoming motorcycle. The sunset did not disappoint either. Con (our tour guide) lead us to this hidden enclave that looked out onto the flooded valley and we watched the sun slip behind the horizon. Talk about peace and serenity!

We are now finally nestled in our next hotel in the middle of a small fishing village. It is quite nice. The decorations are nice and we have a balcony. Tomorrow, we wake up early and spend another full day traveling, this time by bus, to Ho Chi Minh city. I’m in desperate need of a break, of internet, and of a shower.

Ho Chi Minh City: Formally known as Saigon, (and still referred to as Saigon by many) this city is filled with more motorbikes than I’ve ever seen, and overwhelming-overwhelming to cross the street, overwhelming to be unable to trust people, overwhelming in noise, pollution and context. Our first day, one girl almost got her bag snatched by some motorbikers (luckily, she was able to grab it back just in the nick of time) and another man got a lot of money stolen out of his wallet when he tried to pay his cylco. Needless to say, it is not my most favorite city that I’ve visited. It is hard to be in a city where you have to be constantly aware of everything going on around you.

Today was our tour of the Cu Chi Tunnels, and the War Remnants Museum. The Cu Chi Tunnels are a unique architectural structure and a system of tunnels deeply underground with several floors, a labyrinth of intricate winding, and rooms for meeting, sleeping, cooking and preparing for battle. We were given the opportunity to crawl into them, though I was only able to make it about 2 minutes before I had to turn around. It was suffocating, my heart started to race and I suffered from a slight panic attack when I realized how narrow and dark they were. It is incredible that people had to live in these tunnels for years and years during the Vietnam War.

The War Remnants Museum was opened to the public in 1975 and exhibits photographs, tanks, guns and propaganda used during the Vietnam War. It is a means to display the war crimes and the aftermath of the war on the Vietnamese people. One of the most disturbing exhibitions displayed pictures of handicapped children and Agent Orange victims in Ky Chau village, in Ha Tinh Province. Because of their exposure to the chemicals that were dropped during the war, many children were left with shriveled limbs, deformed hands, feet and faces and adults suffered from severe skin lacerations and irritations.

When I was walking through the museum, I couldn’t help but feel guilty and angry at America. In the various genocide and war studies that I have done in the past few years, there has been a broad scale of emotions that I have experienced. It is difficult to explain how it felt to walk through this museum and be a US citizen and know that the war was initiated by my country. When I would stare at photos of young soldiers, I would feel a deep sadness for what they experienced and for their families worrying and terrified at home. But, then I would look at another picture of a soldier holding an innocent Vietnamese family at gunpoint, and feel an outrage. And all of these emotions are mixed with this sort of skepticism of the extremely biased picture that was painted. What about those at home who were participating in anti-war protests and marches? What about those young men who were drafted and forced to go to war, though they had no desire and no belief in the cause of the war?

Hoi An: Delightfully beautiful and quaint, Hoi An captures some of my most favorite memories of this trip. Two highlights: tailored clothes-designed by me and renting bikes to get to the beach. The streets of Hoi An are lined with tailor shops with eager seamstresses willing to make anything that you could ever desire. You can point to a photo of a Gucci jacket in a Vogue magazine, and in a day, own it. It’s absolutely amazing! The women who made some clothes for me must be mentioned…the shop was owned by three sisters who were the size of popsicle sticks, loved Vietnamese soap operas, and could make pants in a mere hour! They each had such lively and memorable personalities.

Little did I know….Vietnam has the most beautiful beaches that I’ve ever seen in my life. White sand, few people, cool breeze, warm ocean water. I hate swimming in the ocean, but it was just too irresistible, and complete heaven.

This portion of the trip is filled with all of my favorite things: good food, good company (a total of 4 surviving ladies!), amazing shopping, and sunshine! What a perfect way to end this adventure.

Halong Bay: Can only be described in pictures…

Cambodia

As a result of the lack of wireless internet on this part of the trip and the inability to blog weekly, I am going to copy and paste an on-going record of the events that have taken place over the past few weeks….

Cambodia:
My impressions of Cambodia are similar-though not wholly comparable to my impression of Uganda; both slowly progressing in the hands of the corrupt, yet with their fair share of things to be proud of. Unlike Uganda, Cambodia’s scenery is spectacular. The fields of shallow waters laced with reeds, tropical greenery, dirt and potholed roads all paint the stunning portrait that one may imagine. The monsoon rain beats upon my hotel window and the wind rattles the building. I sit, alone in my room, a sort of bubble sanctuary from Mother Nature. If I stand and look out of the window, I see the backyards of locals, dirty and poor and see the homes of the vocal rooster and dogs, so insistent that I stay awake. On the other side of my room is the veranda looking out onto the hotel swimming pool. Among the noises of monsoon, I can hear privileged children splashing and laughing, unaware of their surroundings and happy to play.

The past two days have been filled with Angkor Temples and obnoxious dinners shared with foreign travel companions. The tour has proven to be unlike anything that I had expected, actually it has proven to be more like a bad nightmare. A vacation it is not. For the majority, I feel like I am stuck with embarrassing relatives-all difficult to relate to. I’m staying sane through the help of my neutral, laid-back, British roommate Jade. She is a vault that I am able to confide my frustrations in, though I’m holding back many emotions as to prevent myself from seeming snobbish. I’m not a snob though. They are politically incorrect; make cultural/racial slurs and one man, last night, even personally attacked me! The attack, completely side-swept me and caught me off guard. (It referred to my education and he seemed to think that I have no focus in life.) Today, I resisted visiting a fishing village in order to escape and recuperate.



Later…
The last day that we were in Siem Reap, I shopped a bit in town and had a yummy lunch with even better ice cream. Siem Reap was a quiet and quaint little town, which alternates bar, boutique, restaurant and market, down each of the streets. I felt completely at ease getting around and I am also pleased to take the “tuk tuk” rides, because unlike Indian rickshaws, they are plush, wide and much less hectic.

We are now in Phnom Phen, the capital of Cambodia. We flew in yesterday (one of the quickest and most efficient flights I’ve ever been on) and it felt like we were in a whole different world from quiet Siem Reap. Driving via bus from the airport to our riverside hotel, we passed various factories and big buildings. My first impressions were rather negative, but after today, I am feeling much differently. Despite our smelly, crusty hotel, the area that we are staying is quite charming. My room looks right out onto the river-a beautiful view- and down the street are restaurants and bars. At night there is a lively feel and many people can be spotted through clouds of cigarette smoke, sipping cocktails in large lounge chairs.

Cambodians have style. All of the restaurants and boutiques look incredibly trendy and uniquely inviting. Sometimes, I get lost in the Asian textiles and décor while walking along the streets. While I enjoyed Indian shops better, the Cambodians can boast to the swankiest night scenes.

We have dined at two humanitarian restaurants that are affiliated with the NGO called “Friends,” which supports, educates and cares for street kids of Phnom Phen. Both restaurants had former street kids working and training as waiters/waitresses and chefs. The food was fantastic, as was the cause. I am appreciative to be able to see and support this side of Cambodia, even though I am a mere tourist.

This morning we went to the Genocide Memorial Museum (Tuol Sleng Prison) and the Killing Fields. The prison is located in a sub-district of Phnom Penh and covers an area of 600x400 meters. During the Khmer Rouge regime it was enclosed by two folds of corrugated iron sheets, all covered with dense, electrified barbed wire to prevent anyone from escaping the prison. Houses and the four former school buildings were used as administration, interrogation and torture offices. Within the complex, there were several male and female children (from 10-15 years old) who were trained and selected by the Khmer Rouge to work as guards. Most of them started out normal, but were brainwashed and grew to be increasingly cruel and disrespectful towards the prisoners. The prisoners were kept in tiny cells and chained to the concrete walls. The prison had strict regulations which read as follows:

1. You must answer accordingly to my questions. Do not turn them away.
2. Do not try to hide the facts by making pretexts of this and that. You are strictly prohibited to contest me.
3. Do not be a fool for you are a chap who dares to thwart the revolution.
4. You must immediately answer my questions without wasting time to reflect.
5. Do not tell me either about your immoralities or the revolution.
6. While getting lashes or electrification you must not cry at all.
7. Do nothing. Sit still and wait for my orders. If there is no order, keep quiet. When I ask you to do something, you must do it right away.
8. Do not make pretexts about Kampuchea Krom in order to hide your jaw of traitor.
9. If you do not follow all the above rules, you shall get many lashes of electric wire.
10. If you disobey at any point of my regulations you shall get either 10 lashes or 5 shocks.

There was never anyone released from this prison. Those who were not killed in the prison were bused to the Killing Fields and were either hung or shot. Currently, the Killing Fields are used as a memorial site where a building has been constructed to display all of the skulls and bones of the victims. Still to this day, during the rainy season, bones can be found washed up on the dirt paths.

I was faced with a familiar rush of emotions while wandering through the old prisons and looking at photographs, paintings, skulls and bones. It was so similar to the memorial sites that I visited in Rwanda-I felt angry, repulsed, and depressingly sad. Genocide is a concept that completely boggles my mind. It is one thing to kill an enemy, but to brutally torture a relative or friend is something that I will never comprehend. They explain that the people acting in the genocide were young, impressionable and brainwashed; but how does one brainwash a child to act so brutally? I have yet to wrap my finger around the experience to the fullest-I know these emotions are ones that I will revisit in my mind over and over again, and probably not understand my true feelings until much later.