Thanksgiving

A few phone pics from Thanksgiving come a little late ya know. Quite a little party we had...is that soju jungle juice? Dayamn son.

Warning: This Sad Tale Is Not Safe For Children

You'd like to think, hey, it's been a couple of weeks. I bet Steve has an exciting story to tell us about his worldly travels. And, you'd be half correct. I do have a story, but it's not mine and it has nothing to do with worldly travels...or does it?

You may have noticed that there was a YouTube video (perhaps part of the video box is cut off depending on your browser/computer/OS/attitude) located directly above my free poetry. This is a song the students listened to today in my 6th grade class. Watch it first and let me tell you why this is a bad video unfit for childrens' eyes. I'll wait. It's only 1:06. You can handle it.

Are you done? Ok, so, yes, the lyrics (I always considered lyrics to contain some semblence of coherent word choice)are atrocious. That's beside the point. The point is that, in the spand of 30 seconds, this song manages to weave a sad tale of love and deceit that no one should ever experience.

First, imagine, as a mother, you're with your daughter at an amusement park. For all my Virginia peeps, let's say you're at Busch Gardens. You're rocking out, maybe you're in the Germany section, waiting in line for your sixth beer. Your daughter has racked up a few toys and things that cost money you so lovingly spent. You realize the time, that the new season of Survivor starts tonight and you need to get home pretty quickly (does that show even come on anymore?).
     "Nami, (your bastard ex-husband insisted on that traditional Korean name, eventhough he's never even been to Korea and only dated a Korean girl once for a month in college) come here. It's time to go home."  
     You realize that your daughter has more of her indignant father's personality in her than yours when she snaps back, "What time is it?"
     You suppress a tear from the memories and say in a motherly tone, "Four forty. It's four forty."
     You barely finish pronouncing the final "ee" syllable when your whole universe unravels before your very eyes.
     "Not now! No way!" she screams and immediately runs off.
     You feel like you're dreaming...or too drunk to function when you find yourself slurring, "Come back!" instead of chasing after her as any decent mother would do. Your limbs don't work, and all you can do is watch awestruck.
     As you follow her with your eyes, you lose her as three fat yokels choking on a Reese's Pieces Ice-Cream Blast coupled with a strawberry syrupped Belgian waffle block your view of your only child, the reason you survived the divorce, your sun and your stars.  Your heart sinks.
     After three eternities of hopelessness, after you were pretty sure she was halfway to Cairo by now, you see her, but she's not looking where she's going.  Her attention was caught by either the Ice-Cream Blast or the waffle, you don't know, but she's headed for inevitable danger and you can't stop from blurting, "Watch out!" just as she turns to see where she's going. 
     The adrenaline and the fear turn everything to a blur, but you can make out your daughter, stopping just before her face was deep fried in a food stand fryer.  She was literally centimeters away from having a face filet for dinner and she doesn't even realize what she's done.  She's single-handedly destroyed a build up of trust that was a lifetime in the making.  You only took her off her leash three months ago.  How could she be so brash and impulsive?  Would she ever wrap her head around why you will eventually stop going outside, why the TV says only scary things, and why you associate her with the feeling of lies and deceit your cheating husband caringly cultivated from mere seedlings years ago?  Can she even grasp it?  Probably not but suddenly you haven't had enough to drink.

This is the story I was forced to teach my 6th graders today.  A story that probably would have melted my students' faces as well but, like Nami, they were too naive to realize the danger they were in.  We had opened the Ark of the Covenant together, only my students managed to close their eyes before their souls were taken (or maybe they were asleep). 

Before, I was reluctant to say that Korean English education needed reform, but now...

iPhone App Commence!

Hey errybody! I just figured out how to post from my phone! Although if I do this it will be more for pictures...like the one posted...

Whassat? Whasher A-Whay!

What's it been, like a month?  Psh, whatever.  Am I here to tell you about my Halloween excursion to Busan (wherein a friend and I went as Hall and Oates)? No.  Am I here to tell you about the Busan Fireworks Festival (still the greatest fireworks show I've ever seen)?  Nah.  What about my trip to Gyeongju, wherein I experienced a series of interesting events concerning Korean culture (like a Korean band full of traditional instruments covering Beatles songs)? Not even close.

I'm back in action to tell you that Mr. Lee struck again.  I suppose this story requires some background.  Here, listen to this while you read:



It'll make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside whilst I weave a tale.  So for the entire time I"ve been here, my washer has been broken.  I've mentioned it on this blog before.  At first, I thought I was doing something wrong.  Barely able to read Korean, I thought there must be some magic button I should push to fix everything that was going wrong whenever I did laundry.  I eventually had my co-teacher come to my apartment and explain to me how to do laundry like a special needs third grader.  I thought the problem was fixed.  That was certainly not the case.  It wouldn't spin, instead opting to make a loud grunting sound as though to say, "Hey, I'm tryin' but I just ate sixteen chalupas from Taco Bell and I ain't movin' cause I can't get up from my Lazy Boy.  Plus the game's on, how you gonna do that to a brotha?"  I knew it was time to say something.

Unfortunately for me, I mentioned my problem after the 30 day grace period stipulated on my contract.  After day 30 of living in my domicile, whatever went wrong with furniture, appliances, or infrastructure was my problem.  This was reinforced by my co-teacher who was apologetic, but basically restated the contract and said I'd have to fix my washing machine if I wanted it to work.  Well, I wasn't going to spend money on a washing machine in some weird Asian country, so for the next year and eight months I washed my clothes in a broken machine, pretending it got them clean.

The actual results varied.  All my white shirts have faded to some dull gray, sometimes the smells of my clothes was a little funny (works great when talking to women), sometimes mystery stains that weren't present when I put the article into the washing machine appeared, and it couldn't even entertain the thought of washing bedsheets.  I couldn't wait to go on vacation so that I could use a real washing machine and a dryer so my clothes would at least be clean twice a year. 

"You're an idiot, Steve," you might say (and rightfully so), "why not just go to a laundromat or dry cleaner to take care of your dirty work?"  Good question, and I like your use of puns.  Well, laundromats don't exist here as far as I know, and I...have this strange phobia of a certain style of Korean shops.  The dry cleaner by my apartment was such a shop.  You step into someone's living quarters that doubles as their shop; a one or two room shack, if you will.  You'll interrupt them eating, sleeping, watching TV, and the living conditions leave something to be desired and you're surprised that something this third world still exists in Korea and you feel guilty about simply being American.  So, besides partially doubting the ability of said dry cleaner to make my clothes clean in questionable conditions, I developed an irrational fear of the establishment itself. 

Is the song over yet?  If it is, play this one, damn you.  It's magical and I'm a moodsmith. 



Ahem, fast forward to about two weeks ago.  I casually mention to my co-teacher how my washing machine is broken in the context of a conversation (not expecting anything to come of it, more explaining why I smell like rotten vegetables every day instead of a snuggle bear).  We go through the whole shabang, "Why didn't you say something about it before?" "I did about a year and a half ago." Blah blah blah. 

This time, the reception was different.  They asked the vice principal and he said the school would pay to get it fixed.  I guess holding a bit of tenure carries some weight (oohhhhh, I get the song choice now...but what's that first one about?).  I was walking on sunshine.  The next step was to call the Daewoo Service Center and get someone to take a look see at me washer.  That involved me pulling some Catherine Zeta-Jones stunts from the movie Entrapment (co-starring Sean Connery) and getting in behind my washing machine to read the faded number off the back panel.  Flash fast forward to Monday (yesterday) when Daewoo Dude finally shows up to my apartment wherein I am patiently waiting with my coteacher.  He takes one look at my machine and says what I can only assume is the equivalent of, "Sumbitch got a brokin gear.  Gon' costya hundert n' thirty, easy."  (Why do all repairmen have this accent?  God only knows...) "Futhamore," he adds, "Ya owe me fifteen bucks fer the consultation visit."  Guess what we paid? 

ZERO.  BAM! Enter Mr. Lee who doesn't like service technicians getting all up in his property without his prior knowledge/consent (for those of you absent from previous adventures of the World Class Flaneur, Mr. Lee is my landlord.  Very kind, Christian man who possesses no English and equally as much tact).  He says a bunch of stuff, Daewoo Dude says a bunch of stuff, my coteacher says a bunch of stuff and it goes on like this for five minutes.  Then everyone leaves, myself last.

"What happened?" I ask, innocently.  "Your landlord will change your washer."  "Mr. Lee strikes again," I whisper....

Microscopic fast forward to when I get home at 4:45.  Things are slightly out of place and I guessed Mr. Lee had been doing some work in there.  I walk to the bathroom and, lo and behold, not only do I have a washer that is clearly an upgrade, Mr. Lee also cleaned my entire bathroom.  Now, I admit, it was getting a little nasty in there.  Mold had been creeping up and spiders had made my bathroom their nesting den of Satan.  Even still, cleaning my entire bathroom was well above and beyond a landlord's call of duty.  Especially since I was totallyplanningondoingit before I moved out. 

The...I'm going to go with...funniest part?  He used my painting rag to clean it.  My painting rag with all the dried paint on it (and some wet paint) that was being used for my painting.  Now it's all wet...

But, I certainly can't complain and completely should thank him and take him out to dinner or something.  No telling how many questionable hairs he found in there.

Bucket List: Shortened

There comes a time in everyone's life here in Korea where they reach a fork in the road.  This fork is glittery and flashy.  Sometimes it is diamond studded and you would cut your teeth if you tried to use the fork for its intended purpose.  Nonetheless, this fork has two routes by which one may continue his journey.  One is the route of the purist, the cynic.  You begin to wear your iPod more frequently when in public.  You avoid certain establishments because of their music choice.  You don't turn on your TV in fear that your ears will be tainted with the demonic tones of K-pop.  The other is to embrace the catchiness and popularity of K-pop music.  To let it envelop you, feeling your body lose control to the beat and those catchy choruses.  Eventually, you begin to recognize artists and even start to discern which ones you like more than others.  You may even know individual members' names. 

I, of course, took the more fun route--the latter.  For the past year or so, I've just accepted that K-pop will never go away (even now, Girls' Generation, the leading K-pop band, has completed an English album that will soon go on sale in the U.S.) and have learned to enjoy it for what it is: ear candy.  The bonus is that it doesn't make you fat, just stupid.

As such, I jumped at the opportunity when my employer emailed me about free tickets to the Asian Song Festival.  "What's Asian Song Festival, Steve?" I hear you ask in a voice resembling the Swedish Chef.  It's exactly what it sounds like: a festival to celebrate Asian songs.  Note how the word "music" is strategically missing from the festival name.  It is exactly how it should be.  We are celebrating songs, not music.  These are produced, polished dance routines that are lip synced exactly the same every time.  If you've ever seen the likes of New Kids On The Block, Backstreet Boys, or even Menudo, you'll know what kind of experience this was.  Where the "Asian" part comes in is where they included pop acts from Japan, China, Taiwan, Thailand, and Hong Kong.  I was hoping a North Korean pop star would show up, but I realized that he or she would have been shot already.

When the day finally came, I geared up for it by drinking.  It made the time go by faster, and when the moment was upon us (they started it 20 minutes early) I could hardly control myself.  That last statement would only be true if I were the thousands of teenage girls in the crowd. 

It's funny because all the serious fans were sitting here:

In the back.  Whilst in my section (the VIP section), there sat only foreigner English teachers and older people with babies.  What this resulted in was the back seats erupting into a wave of screaming while the closest rows didn't even clap.  Strange concert experience, Korea.  Here's some poorly composed pictures from my iPhone:

Anyway, I got to experience the musical stylings of Korean favorites such as Miss A, Beast, Lee Sung gi, Chocolat, and one strange act, my favorite of the night, that didn't really fit the bill:  LeeSA.  LeeSA actually plays multiple instruments and has a good voice.  I always warm up a little for a girl who can sing and play guitar.  Here's one of her songs:

After a Japanese pop band's performance (which, by the way, sounds like Korean pop on acid), it slowly began to rain.  Sitting in the open of the stadium field, we were unprepared for rain to be unleashed upon us unawares, so we sought shelter under the entrances to the stadium.  After a rain delay of about 15 minutes, the drizzle let up and the concert resumed.  For us, however, the magic had seemingly been washed away by the falling water and we were no longer interested in the same act performing under different monikers.  We left without seeing the headliners: Samsung's proudest musical acts Super Junior and Girls' Generation. 

I still consider it a check off the Korean bucket list.

Okpo...More like Borophyl

Geoje Island (the largest island in Korea) is somewhat of an anomaly.  It is beautiful and looks very Korean.  It has thousands of Koreans living on it.  However, it's practically like being in a different, much less homogenous country.  There are a few reasons for this.  First, which is mostly conveyed visually but does have a story, is Okpo Land.  Okpo Land was an amusement park that operated in the 90s.  The story goes that more than one person died on the rides.  The final one, in 1999, was a girl who fell off the birdie kid ride (pictured later).  Her family received no compensation, no apology, and the park shut down immediately and the owner vanished.  

As he didn't have time to sell off the rides, they just stayed there in the same condition they were in the day the park closed down.  Since then, nature has since reclaimed most of it.  Because of its ease of access and the non-confrontational attitude of most Koreans, it has become somewhat of a cult tourist site for the intrepid urban explorer.  You can find several internet pages devoted to it and a myriad of pictures of the various rusting attractions.  Here are more:

 

The open gate (notice the razor wire that serves no purpose).

Rides and the like.

 

The straw that broke the camel's back, asitwere.

This place was Scooby Doo creepy.  And, family, I'm not going to lie, it was also dangerous.  Rusting things on the top of a mountain with minimal precautions are not the smartest things to be climbing all over but, as you can tell, the pictures are worth it.  What a gem.  To spoil the fun a bit, according to Wikipedia, Okpo Land lies in its abandoned state because the land has been zoned for environmentally low-impact projects.  I think we can both agree that the first story is much better.

Now for the other reason why Geoje Island is a world far removed from the rest of Korea.  Okpo is also home to one of the largest shipyards in the world: The Daewoo Shipbuilding and Marine Engineering (DSME) shipyard.

 As such, Okpo has a large revolving international population.  This creates a strange atmosphere in such a homogenous society.  On one hand, we were able to have authentic Thai food from a restaurant run by Thai people.  We could have also chosen from Pakistani, Vietnamese, Turkish or Indian food.  This is something rarely accomplished outside of Seoul.

On the other hand, there are literally dozens of "Foreigner Clubs" littered around the downtown area.  What is a foreigner club?  Well, essentially, this is an establishment wherein overweight, middle aged white guys pay to keep the company (in whatever sense of the word) of imported Filipino women.  I swear it's a coincidence that my travels of late seem to contain a lot of prostitutes.  It was very much like Southeast Asia and both revolting and entertaining to watch, and I suppose you can't have an international population in Asia without Filipino prostitutes.  

Despite seeing maybe two Korean people the entire night, we still had a good time and met some pleasant young men from Angola who, according to them, make seven thousand dollars a month.  As of next week, I will be moving to Okpo to get a job at the shipyard. 

Oh, Japan. That's So Raven.

So I think I mentioned something about going to Osaka as well.  Well, anyway, I went to Osaka in addition to Kyoto.  In fact, Osaka was the bread and Kyoto was the meat AND cheese in this Japan sandwich.  Nara was the mayonnaise because I stopped in the train station there and saw parts of buildings from the platform I was on. 

As one bartender delicately put it when we talked about how we'd only seen Osaka at night up to that point, "What else is there?  During the day it's just a bunch of buildings."  Thus, I present to you...A BUNCH OF BUILDINGS!

Oh, and here's more buildings at night.  With a river between them. 

Here's the Yoshinoya where we had our first meal. 

This area featured in all the night shots is Shinsaibashi.  If you go here, you will never see so many prostitutes in your life again, I'm sure of it.  Not scantily clad, smoking, broken, drug addled prostitutes, no.  Many of them look like they just got home from class.  Then again, many of them look like they just got home from an anime convention or from their nursing job.  The other strange thing was that they didn't target foreigners.  They ignored me and my friends for the lone Japanese businessmen walking by.  A welcome slip into anonymity, but still very different from the rest of the Asia I've seen.  Certainly made for good people watching in that kind of environment. 

As you can tell by the above photographs, we did eventually see Osaka during the day and, although it seemed a  bit like a giant conglomerate of bland buildings, we found the top tourist attraction in Osaka: Osaka Castle. 

Osaka Castle was originally built in 1585, but after being burnt by lightning, burnt by protests, and destroyed by World War II bomb raids, it wasn't really (re)built until 1995.  Nonetheless, it is an important historical site and one of the most famous castles in Japan.  Certainly more splendid and important than Nijo in Kyoto. 

Unfortunately, instead of opting for a realistic restoration, they opted for a modernization approach.  They installed air conditioning ducts (pictured) and gutted the whole building.  Inside is completely modern and is devoted to hologram shows and period piece displays.  Still, it was neat to be there and the top floor is an observation deck that allowed the views seen in the above pictures. 

As a majority of our time was spent in Kyoto, Osaka was left mostly undiscovered with only enough time for one day adventure.  I would like to come back to this area at some time, to explore more of Osaka, see more of the neighboring cities, and to revisit Kyoto and see the myriad of temples and shrines and pagodas that we didn't have time to see on this trip.  Japan is enchanting, for sure, and an entirely different entity than Korea.

Look What I Did Last Weekend!

I'm gonna break this up not into chronological order, but by location.  I'll start with what comprised the bulk of the trip: Kyoto (what?  Did I mention that I went to Japan on here?  No?  Well...sorry, broski.  I went to Japan this past weekend as part of a five day holiday).

We spent our first night and last night in Osaka, which I will cover in a subsequent post.  Let's get to the meat and potatoes.

Meat:

I want you to take a look at the main course of the greatest meal I've ever eaten. 

Boom.  This is beef that knocked me off my feet.  It had the consistency of beef flavored butter.  No resistance when biting down on it.  Here's the man who cooked it:

He's in his 80s and probably fought against my country.  He told us, "I don't speak English, I speak fucking American."  Also, when we mentioned Kobe beef, he said, "Fuck Kobe.  Mine's better."  What I learned prior to this meal is that "Kobe beef" is beef from Kobe.  The beef that everyone covets so much is wagyu, which is Japanese breed of cattle predisposed for high marbling and unsaturated fat.  Also, "Sailor Joe" as he is henceforth named, dropped the F-bomb a lot.  When he cut it (pictured above) he was deliberate and slow, but the beef resisted none.  Other things that made the meal memorable:

• His stories, told to us while we ate
• The seven other courses (including salad, steak fries, and a bunch of Japanese stuff that was all tasty)
• The unlimited free sake (or Zaky, as the bottle mentions) which added to the mood
• The kicker: being served oranges and iced tea from a Japanese television star.  Yeah, apparently this guy just strolls into this restaurant every Sunday, sits around peeling oranges, talking to people who show up for the $90 meals.  Also, he owns a coffee shop nearby.

Also, look at this sushi on a conveyer belt:

And ramen:

 Everything was delicious on this trip!


Potatoes:

*Disclaimer: You may recognize some of the following tourist sites from your wildest dreams*

So, our first stop was the Imperial Palace, which is basically a false advertisement.  There's a palace, but it's not open to viewing unless you jump through hoops we didn't know we had to jump through, and so basically you walk around this massive park surrounding it in the blistering sun.  Therefore, I didn't post any lackluster pictures for you to view.

Our first real stop was at Nijo Castle...which is kind of redundant because -jo means castle, so it's really Ni Castle Castle.  Anyway, it also was a huge false advertisement, but not insomuch that you couldn't view it.  It was really a palace surrounded by a moat and walls, which still makes it a palace to me, but then again I'm not on the UNESCO Board of Assholes.  It looks like this:

And it here's what apparently makes it a castle:

Since we had rented bikes for the day, we cruised around town to a couple of non-noteworthy stops and finally went to the place I wanted to visit: The Temple of the Golden Pavilion.

Kinkaku-ji is world famous...or that's what the world tells me I should think.  It dates from the late 1300s, and is, as the name implies, all golden.  I hear it looks pretty stunning in the winter, when all the snow has fallen and the pond iced over and the children are half skating on it and half falling through to their watery deaths.

You know what sucks though?  Pachenko.

That is seriously some bull right there.  It's all in Japanese, so I don't know how to play it, but of course I did anyway.  Thirteen bucks gone.  Just gone.  I have no idea where it went or who it went to, but it's gone forever.  Oh, "Sailor Joe" told us that 80% of Pachenko places are owned by Koreans.  Those wily Koreans looooooove to gamble.  That's why it's illegal for them to gamble in Korea.  Anyway, I guess that $13 is going back to the peninsula.

The next day, we hit up the tallest pagoda in Japan:

As well as that crazy shrine with all the torii leading up a mountain:

Let's talk about Kyoto.  With a population of roughly 1.5 million, Kyoto is by no means an "ancient" city like Angkor Wat or Pompeii.  It is still living and thriving with a subway, railway, and thousands of cars on the roads every day.  I guess that should be easily apparent, but whenever I hear a description of Kyoto, it's always "the ancient capital" as though it's decaying in a jungle.  I imagined Kyoto to be more like Gyeongju in Korea, a smaller town of maybe 30,000 people whose economy is propped up by tourism.  Well, this ain't Korea.

The streets are laid out in a grid, making it easy to tell which direction you're going.  As it is bisected by a river walk, Kyoto has two distinct areas.  The larger, normal Kyoto, and then the smaller traditional district on the East side.  This is where the Geishas reside and the more traditional food and architecture are (also where "Sailor Joe" pimps his steak out).

Although it is bustling and alive, Kyoto is a pleasant city to walk or bike, as there are hidden gems all littered all over, as though a giant, temple pooping cat used Kyoto as his litter box for a thousand years and nobody changed it for him.  This is starkly different from Osaka, who would probably think a giant temple pooping cat was Godzilla and kill it before it could poop any temples.  More to come...

Phnom Penh: Killing Fields, The

*Disclaimer: Extreme content ahead...입니다.*

If Siem Reap was beauty, then Phnom Penh was emotion. We took an overnight bus from Siem Reap to Phnom Penh and arrived in the early morning before anything was really open...except for what we wanted to see, which apparently opened at 5:30 AM. We rented a tuktuk for the day (from a guy not nearly as cool as Homeboy) and headed through Phnom Penh to our first destination.

Driving through the two cities offered a slightly different experience. Phnom Penh was obviously bigger, being the capital and largest city in Cambodia. The amount of tuktuks and scooters stayed constant, but things were more urban in general and there was wealth present in certain areas. We saw a Lamborghini and a Bentley driving nonchalantly down the street.

Our first stop was Tuol Sleng Prison, or S-21. For those who need the history lesson: On April 17th, 1975, after a seven year civil war, the ultra-Communist Khmer Rouge captured Phnom Penh and solidified their control over Cambodia. They renamed the country Democratic Kampuchea and forced everyone to evacuate the cities for a new era of agrarianism. Year Zero. They abolished hospitals, schools, books, even currency, and forced everyone to work on collective farms as equals. Those who were thought to be intellectuals (identified by things as arbitrary as wearing glasses) were murdered. Members and supporters of the former government were murdered. Non-Cambodian ethnic groups were murdered. Those who for some reason or another had "pre-revolution nostalgia" were murdered. Anyone who could not produce adequate agricultural skills were murdered. They eventually turned on their own and murdered high ranking Khmer Rouge officials. Nobody was safe. Even if they couldn't find a reason to murder, they tortured until the person confessed a crime and named some friends or family members who would then be subsequently arrested.
One of the places in which they were tortured and murdered was Tuol Sleng. After Phnom Penh was evacuated and schools abolished, this high school was turned into a prison/torture center. 17,000 people passed through its gates. Only seven survived. When the Vietnamese invaded and overthrew the Khmer Rouge in 1979, they found Tuol Sleng with 14 bodies quickly killed on the torture tables by the fleeing enemy. The next year, they opened up Tuol Sleng as a museum and kept it very similar to how it looked when they found it. There were even still blood stains on the floor.To say it was powerful would be an understatement. Walking into a room with a bed frame and a picture above it depicting the dead person the Vietnamese found in that very same room, in that very same bed frame was definitely moving. It's hard to describe everything one sees there. The tiny cells. The torture devices. The chains. The bloodstains. The thousands of pictures of victims who passed through the prison's gates, never to be seen or heard from again. Some were children under five. Tortured and murdered all the same. There were rooms full of these photographs.It took less than a year for the grounds surrounding Tuol Sleng to fill up with bodies, so the Khmer Rouge began shipping prisoners out to places like Choeung Ek (our next stop) to be disposed of. Once a Chinese cemetery, the Khmer Rouge turned Choeung Ek into a killing field and mass grave site. After prisoners signed a confession or named the required names of other traitors, they were put in a truck and hauled out to the fields with about 20 or 30 other people, where they were led to a pit and struck with a pick ax or a hoe or any other lethal farm equipment that could kill while saving bullets. Children who were small enough were taken by the legs and swung headfirst into a tree. The specific tree was labeled as we strolled around.

In the center is a memorial to the thousands of bodies they found at Choeung Ek housing the bones of exhumed victims. It's rather startling as the bones are exposed for viewers. Also, while walking around, signs inform you that when it rains they still find things in the soil and don't be surprised if you do too. It's hard to ignore rags half buried in the dirt or more than one random tooth on the ground.

But, with that our depressing tour of Cambodian history was over. We were left with the rest of the day to enjoy more cheery sites like the Cambodian Royal Palace:

Modeled after the Thai Royal Palace.

The Silver Pagoda:

Apparently bird paradise.

The Vietnam/Cambodia Friendship Monument:The Independence Monument:

As featured on their currency!

The Central Market:
The North Korean Embassy:

No, we didn't get to go into the North Korean Embassy, but they did have some funny propaganda on the outside of it--in English.

The Riverfront:

(picture not included)

The Riverfront was charming enough, with that same French style architecture so prominent in Siem Reap. Although instead of $.50 beers like in Siem Reap, the cheapest we could find was $.60 beers (God! Everything is so marked up in the big city!).

Perhaps it was the dust entering through my eyes, nose, and mouth and subsequently clouding my brain, but Phnom Penh had a separate charm than Siem Reap. I didn't want to leave the prices, the currency, the tuktuks, the people, the haggling, the architecture, the atmosphere, the food...

Both Thailand and Cambodia are places I'd visit again, but I'd switch it around and spend more time in Cambodia than Thailand in the future. Cambodia has beach resorts, too...