The Tin Man Finds A Heart

One week after the Olympics ended I headed in for my last week of work. I was a little wary of telling the students that I was leaving just because I didn't want to make a big deal of it. Word got out and many students came up to me to wish me good luck. The best thing about working at Wall Street is the students. They are all so eager to learn not just English (a few could use a little more motivation on that front) but about the world as well. I did my last movie corner and the movie I chose was The Wizard of Oz. I picked it because I wanted to show them a timeless picture that has cultural relevance. Most of them had seen it before but were nonetheless enthralled when I put it on. The songs, the story, and the imagery all captivated them. It was sheer coincidence (or effective work by my subconscious) that the last lines are, "There's no place like home." I never thought about it before, but it is true on so many levels. Home is a shifting location. Home is where you feel comfortable and safe. I am lucky enough to have many homes in this world and this last line got to me a bit not just in regards to going to my American home, but thinking of the Chinese home I am leaving behind. The next day was my last and my coworkers had a little party for me. They have all been great to work with and whether they know it or not I will miss them.

After work ended I began to prepare for my impending travels. I scheduled and finalized a trip reaching many places of interest in Asia. The plan was thus: Go from Beijing to Siem Reap in Cambodia and spend a few days there enjoying the ancient architecture before heading to Shanghai to see Bryne again and hang out like old times. From Shanghai I planned to head to Guilin to see the famous karst topography of the region and enjoy some natural wonders. All of this was arranged on the fly from my friend Steve's computer. Steve was nice enough to let me stay with him when my landlord abruptly told me I had to "get out".

The day before I began this journey I was invited to brunch at my friend Dana's house. There she served up a dizzying array of dishes each more delicious than the last. The pinnacle was the lox, cream cheese, caper, onion, poppy seed spread she had to put on home made bagel chips. This dish ignited my taste buds in anticipation for my return to the US. Lots of friends were there and we partook in some champagne and card games before I had to be off. My students wanted to take me to a farewell dinner that evening. I met them at a famous hot pot restaurant in Beijing and it was just superb. More than a dozen students showed up many bearing gifts. It was a little embarrassing. As much as I joke I have a hard time taking credit or being proud of things I've done. The students told me how much they would miss me and how great I was and it all made me a little uncomfortable. What really turned up the uncomfortable factor is when several students began to cry. We had been making many toasts that evening with the aid of baijiu, the 112 proof liquor that is so common at these types of events. A little emotion and a lot of drinks equals tears apparently. I really felt like the tin man and I wanted a heart. Truth be told I was sad to say goodbye to them, after all they are all wonderful people with a lot to offer the world. I just hope I was able to give them a little ammunition for life in the form of English and an improved view of the world.

The next afternoon I was off to Bangkok where I would catch a flight to Siem Reap early the next morning. Flights being what they are I had to stay overnight in Bangkok. I was there literally 11 hours. I found a small, rundown hotel near the airport and was there long enough to be offered three prostitutes. I declined three times but was still called in my room to make sure my decision was final. It was, I assured them. The next morning I was off to Siem Reap. Upon arrival the first thing that struck me was the flatness of the land. Coming in you could see the ravages of deforestation. Tons of small farms were set up around Lake Tong Li Sap. Further out you could see the jungle and what this area was originally like. Arriving at the airport without a proper visa landed me in the visa purchase line. Unbeknown to me, I was supposed to have a picture to attach to the visa. I didn't have one so the visa officer looked at me cross eyed. I thought I was super cool when I said, "I forgot, I have a picture right here", and slipped him a ONE DOLLAR BILL. He smiled and gave me the visa. One thing about Cambodia that I did not read in the guidebook was that they basically run a dual currency system based both on Riel, the local money, and the US dollar. What was even stranger was when the ATMs all spit out American dollars.

Upon my arrival I was met by a driver from the hostel that I had booked online the day before. He introduced himself to me with some ridiculously Western name like James. I asked him his real name and he said something which I immediately forgot. So to me, this diminutive, ever smiling, Cambodian chap, who couldn't have been more than 19 years-old, remained nameless for the duration of my stay. He took me out to the parking lot and told me that the tuk tuk had broken down and all he had was his motorbike. This thing was a rickety as they come. The top display where the speed, odometer, oil, and gas gauges would bee had fallen out and, since it was the rainy season, a white towel had been crammed in their place. I hopped on the back with my giant backpack and we made the trip back to the hostel.

On the way back, lets call him Doug, he explained many things to me that I was totally unaware of. I saw many Korean restaurants and five star hotels along the dirt road. Between hotels were small fruit stands made of corrugated tin and rice paddies being tended to with water buffalo. I asked him about all the Korean stuff. He told me that Korean companies have come to Cambodia to renovate many of the temples and help extract some of the natural resources Cambodia has to offer. He blamed the Koreans for the sustained poverty of his people, saying that they keep to themselves and although they have money, they only spend it at the Korean restaurants. To boot, one the Koreans finish the renovations of the temples, the money from the ticket sales goes directly to them. May other countries have gotten into this racket including Germany, Japan, and Vietnam. It costs 40 US dollars to get a three day pass to the temples of Angkor, Doug said that about three of those dollars make their way back to the Cambodian people.

We turned down a couple of roads flanked by stands selling live chickens, and duck embryos as snacks (Doug informed me that duck embryos were three for a dollar and really good with some chili sauce) and finally we arrived at Baca Villa. I chose this hostel because of an English school that is attached to it. Both the hostel and the school are run by a Dutch guy who has been living in Cambodia for several years. The money from the hostel is used to pay for school supplies for the children who are mostly orphans. The hostel was small but comfortable. My room was simple but did have a small TV that got BBC News and CNN. I arrived early in the morning so I decided to start of my trip full speed. Doug and I hopped back on the motorbike and headed out to Angkor Thom for a look around. On the way he pointed out the dirt road and said, "Look, you see why we need the money from the temples?" We cruised down the dirt road out of the city and into the jungle.

We rode along until we came to a fantastic bridge going over a giant moat. The Buddhist style was impressive in its detail. The gate itself was capped with a face staring out at the bridge. It was equally spooky and awe inspiring. This was my first taste of Angkor and I immediately fell in love before I had even crossed through the gate. On the other side the reality of modern Cambodia hit me. Small orphaned children begging for money. More children selling trinkets and postcards. Victims of landmines selling books. All of this in the middle of the jungle with monkeys running about. It was pretty intense but everyone seemed so up beat. The children whined for money but then I would make a small joke or tell them how cool they looked and they would smile and laugh. The children were captivating in a way that at once was both tragic and beautiful. I spent a lot of money that first day buying things I didn't need just to make them smile.

I got back on the bike and Doug told me that he had been one of those kids, selling postcards and books, until he started going to the Baca school. Doug's English was pretty good if slightly accented, we communicated very well.

The first temple we arrived at was The Bayon. I was immediately awestruck by the giant faces staring down from atop the pinnacles and towers that brought order to the labyrinthine arrangement of passageways courtyards and grottoes. The Bayon has been about 60% restored and that remaining 40% is what made it, and all the partially restored temples of Angkor, so special. The unrestored parts let you roam around and get lost in the rubble and provided some excellent picture taking opportunities utilizing the dramatic light that would come in at strange angles and project upon the bas reliefs. The bas reliefs at Bayon were extensive and pretty well preserved. More than most other temples I visited, Bayon had a great collection of bas reliefs that depicted military victories and everyday life 800 years ago.

After tooling around there for about two and a half hours I found Doug. He asked me where we were going next and I told him I still hadn't visited the other temples in the area. He laughed and told me that most people spend two hours on the entire complex. I told him I had jut begun. The other sites in the area are not as complete or dramatic as Bayon so I just spent another hour and a half on them combined.

Afterwards I met up with Doug again and we headed to get some lunch. I knew very little about Cambodian food so I had Doug take me to a local restaurant to be my guide. "It is time to start earning your keep", I said. He replied with "What?" Doug's English was good but not that good. Once in the restaurant he directed me towards the most traditional and famous of Cambodian dishes, Amok. Amok is like a soupy coconut curry served with fresh local vegetables and your choice of chicken or fish. It was great and a little spicy. Over lunch Doug told me about modern Cambodia and government corruption. I knew there was an election the month before and I knew that the ruling party stayed in power. I did not know how unsatisfying this was for many people in Siem Reap. After talking politics we headed out and back to the hostel. Did I mention it was hot? It was hot. It was also the rainy season so on the way back to the hostel we were caught in an afternoon rain storm. We kept on going on our motorbike and made it back to the hostel safe and sound. I was soaked through and sunburned and exhausted so I knew it was a good day. I went to my room at 7pm and slept through the night. The emotional toll, not to mention the hellish connection from Bankgok, was too much for me. All the suffering and beauty and injustice was a lot to take. In the end though I felt like a better person for experiencing those things and seeing all that suffering. The Tin Man had found his heart, at least temporarily.