Holiday In Cambodia

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You might think that Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos and Thailand would be relatively similar to one another, given how close they are geographically. You would be wrong.

At the Royal Palace.

These are ethnically rich and culturally diverse nations that have been influenced by a lot of the same people through periods of war and colonization. There is a very stark difference in the way people interact with you as a foreigner in Indochina and in some places it’s a bit overwhelming.

Messing around at the Royal Palace.

Messing around at the Royal Palace.

 

I foolishly assumed that cities within Cambodia would feel similar, and I was greeted with four very different experiences in each place I visited. Phnom Penh was chaotic. An authentically dirty, third-world capital city. It wasn’t pretty and it wasn’t made for tourists, but there they (we, tourists) are, obvious strangers in a strange land. Here the obvious, nearly obligatory, attractions are the Killing Fields and the S21 museum. They are fucked up reminders of the extreme horror that humanity is capable of, and though it isn’t easy to see, I believe it is our responsibility to learn as much history first-hand as possible. If you want to know more about that, read my last post “War Crimes in Indochina.”

 

In Phnom Penh I also visited the Royal Palace, including the Silver Pagoda, Russian Market and Night Market. Don’t we all just fucking love palaces, markets and temples?!?! I’m rolling my eyes.

At the Royal Palace.

At the Royal Palace.


The Silver Pagoda at the Royal Palace.

The Silver Pagoda at the Royal Palace.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Many of these are beautiful, worthwhile and amazing, but would you go to Europe for two months and only look at those things? Maybe you would, you loser. But what I like the most about traveling is getting a feel for the city and for its people, and how you are different and the same. I definitely enjoy markets for this reason, to be fair, but I also enjoy spending time just observing.

The Royal Palace.

The Royal Palace.

I didn’t observe much in Phnom Penh because, frankly, I was a bit culture shocked at first. And my hostel sold joints and had a pool so I was stoned a lot of the time. Didn’t stop me from sightseeing, but I was pretty content. I flipped that switch pretty hard when I landed in Sihanoukville. And by landed I mean arrived after a five hour bus journey.

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I didn’t really spend much time in Sihanoukville proper, but it’s low season now and everything is quiet. No complaints from me, though, that’s for sure. I scurried my way to Otres Beach, a 15 minute or so tuk-tuk ride from the town center, and when I walked into Sea Garden I fell in love instantly. Though it was the last sunny day I would see there, I’m glad it was shining when I arrived.

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Sea Garden is one of a handful of bungalow accommodations directly on Otres Beach and the vibe there is everything. Go there. Just do it. Tell Joe that Kate sent you. He won’t remember me, I’m sure, but tell him anyway, he’s a cool dude. This place is clean, friendly, cozy and chill while still being very minimal. It’s just an awesome place I’m grateful to have experienced.

A bungalow at Sea Garden in Otres Beach, Sihanoukville, Cambodia.

A bungalow at Sea Garden in Otres Beach, Sihanoukville, Cambodia.

 

 

 

 

Anyway, the whole point of me going to Otres beach was so I could catch a boat to Koh Ta Kiev, the island no one has heard of. It took me uncharacteristically long to get there because I was misdirected, then the tuk-tuk broke down, then I ran uphill pushing the tuk-tuk. When I arrived at the boat pick-up spot for when there’s inclement  weather (a Navy base), the entrance was blocked, so I got out and started walking. One of the boat captains cruised through a small gap in the fence on his motorbike and myself and another guy hopped on the bike with hi–three people, four bags, one bike–and rode to the water.

Sea Garden.

Sea Garden.


Sunset at Sea Garden, Otres Beach, Sihanoukville, Cambodia.

Sunset at Sea Garden, Otres Beach, Sihanoukville, Cambodia.

This other guy, who fancies himself one of those authentic travelers (but is really a deluded hipster), told me (with confidence) to get on the wrong boat, which led to me switching boats on the water. When I finally arrived on the island I saw no one, except a smiley Khmer man waving me along. The guys unloaded the supplies onto a tractor. Once the gas can, water, beer and ice were loaded, I also got on the tractor. The smiley man, Mr, Kojun, and I drove through the jungle for 20 minutes and I still had no idea what was going on, but I was optimistic about my odds for survival. I was right. I’m alive. Hooray.

The tractor.

The tractor.

Rainy season left the bungalows, called Ten103 Treehouse Bay, nearly deserted, as well as the rest of the island. My second day I went for a walk on the beach, and in two hours I only saw locals–a Khmer mother and son, and two men who looked like they worked on the island. A secret beach and a jungle adventure.

Riding the tractor with all the supplies.

Riding the tractor with all the supplies.


Sunset at Ten103.

Sunset at Ten103.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I seriously loved this place. I would love to go back for several months and live as a part of the incredible team of humans who live and work together for Ten103 Treehouse Bay, whom I got to know pretty well. No wifi, no electricity, no running water, no problem.

The water right off Ten103 Treehouse Bay on Koh Ta Kiev island.

The water right off Ten103 Treehouse Bay on Koh Ta Kiev island.

Low season is rainy season and there was only one night that the storms got to me. By that point I was comfortable with the jungle and the noises it makes, but a HUGE storm rolled through after visiting Japan and Vietnam and started fucking with the trees around the dorm where I was sleeping. With three walls to the dorm, we could watch the storm over the ocean, but also hear branches falling on the roof. On the top bunk I convinced myself a tree was about to fall through and crush me. It didn’t. Hooray.

Breakfast time at Ten103.

Breakfast time at Ten103.

Anyway, paradise. Yep. Bucket showers are a-ok with me!

After several days I returned to the mainland and reconnected. I showered and it was glorious. I sat down to pee and it was amazing. It was also still raining but I decided to hang at Sea Garden again for a couple more days to re-acclimate. image

 

 

 

I got an AMAZING massage at Relax in Sihanoukville, posted a package that required me to lick about 13 stamps, and chilled out with some new friends. But I did have to move on, so I took an overnight sleeper bus from Sihanoukville to Siem Reap.

Leaving Koh Ta Kiev.

Leaving Koh Ta Kiev.

 

Lucky for me, I had some solid bunk mates. We all had shared beds on the bus. As a solo traveler, I slept next to a really nice stranger, an Australian girl, and we talked with the two across the aisle from us. Canadians. After several stops, some sketchy pee breaks and 11 hours, we arrived in Siem Reap.

Day one was a wash as it was raining and the Canadians, plus three Brits they knew, and I drank all day. We experienced a party hostel off season, which was mildly pathetic, and Pub Street, which is exactly what you’d expect it to be.

imageThe next morning I rolled out of bed for a solo adventure (with my awesome tuk-tuk driver, Vanna!) and we headed out to a temple I should really know the name of. It was much less crowded than the internationally known Angkor complex, though a Chinese family, part of a large tour, did throw their baby into my arms and proceded to take turns in pictures. #familyalbum

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We walked the temple and grounds, hung around on vines and watched some kids fish.

At this point I was dead tired and hungover. But we were headed to one of the floating villages…which was actually much more interesting  than I thought it would be. I hired a boat and our driver turned the key in the ignition and steered us out with his Honda steering wheel and gas pedal. We cruised to the village, seeing lots of fish traps along the way.

imagePeople of all ages were in boats, working or playing in the water. I’m surprised they haven’t evolved to full amphibian. At the far end of the village there were some restaurants and a beautiful floating forest. A little further was Cambodia’s response to the Great Lakes. I couldn’t see the other end of it, just water and weeds as far as the eye could see, even standing on the bow of the boat. Vanna told me that you could travel to Phnom Penh on that lake. Crazy, I had absolutely no idea that existed.image

 

 

We turned back to grab some food. At the floating restaurant we messed with the caged crocodiles (farmed for food), lazed in hammocks, ate and stared into the flooded forest.

Floating/Flooded Forest.

Floating/Flooded Forest.

On the way back, the boat pulled up to shore so we could walk through the village. When the rains come and the village floods this part is under water, so it wasn’t the cleanest. Still, I almost stepped on a decaying rat…about 100ft from where I saw a naked toddler playing with a 6in knife. I don’t know.

Lunchtime.

Lunchtime.

Next thing I know I’m surrounded by tiny perfect angel children and a woman is telling me to purchase books and pencils for them. Obviously I did. Because I’m a humanitarian. And I’m a sucker for kids even when I know I’m falling victim to a scam. But whatever, those kids were happy and so was I.

Angel babies.

Angel babies.

That night I passed out at 7:30.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Day three I was up at 4:30am to head to Angkor Wat for sunrise…me and everyone else. And, as it turns out, both the Canadians and the Brits. It was a pretty underwhelming sunrise with a huge crowd, but the temple complex was really cool.

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Reality.

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Expectation.

 

 

 

 

 

 

After sunrise we all grabbed coffee and headed into the temple. The architecture, carvings, reliefs and composition are just so damn old and unlike anything I had seen up to that point.

We saw four or five temples over the span of several hours, and by the time the day was ending they started to blend together, so here are some gems:

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Staged photo, but still pretty damn cool.


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Does this remind anyone else of Legends of the Hidden Temple??

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Monks at Angkor Wat.

Monks at Angkor Wat.


At Angkor Wat

At Angkor Wat

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Brits, Canadians and I all went out for some pizza that night and I passed out super early again. No shame. We all chilled together the next day until I had to leave for the airport. And damn, Laos is a whole different animal.

North Korea, Into The Hermit Kingdom

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Last weekend was a holiday both here in Korea and in America. It was kind of cool getting a three-day weekend and Memorial Day off, even though I’m thousands of miles from home. I wouldn’t say we flaunted our American pride as we would back home, but Allison and I did stand toe to toe with North Korea…and that was surreal. I could write about our crazy adventures around Hongdae for partying or about visiting temples for Buddha’s Birthday (the Korean holiday that coincided with Memorial Day), but the DMZ is really the only thing worth talking about.

I booked this tour over a month in advance to secure our places. All tours that include passage through the Joint Security Area (JSA) are booked weeks in advanced. Though there are many tours to the DMZ, I was certain I needed to go as far as the JSA, which I’ve seen on numerous documentaries and have pictured as this stern, serious, kind of scary environment. I guess it is, given that it is technically a war zone, but frankly with tours going in and out, it felt like a remake in Disney World or something. Like a North Korean part of Epcot. That probably sounds crazy, but we were ushered in and out of the Demilitarized Zone (very officially with many pre-set and day-of rules) by both military and civilian tour guides. Tour guides.

My Co-Teacher didn’t really understand why I was so interested in visiting the DMZ. She said that it’s strange that foreigners want to go there. Unlike the sentiment in America, most South Koreans just want to see peace and reunification of the two Koreas. Many of them have family in the North, or roots, and have hopes for a peninsula no longer divided. In America we perceive North Korea as a threatening dictator-run society that’s ready to take advantage of any weakness their enemies (us) show. Which is probably true, given that at one point I was standing several stories underground in the 3rd Infiltration Tunnel, just 170 meters from North Korea. A tunnel the North dug to surprise attack the South. A tunnel I was standing in with many, many other tourists. TOURISTS. What in the actual fuck are we doing touring a place like that? It’s apparently safe enough, or it wouldn’t be done, but still. It’s more than surreal.

This is probably the hardest blog post I’ve written about my travels because the feeling of being there is so hard to explain. We were mostly American tourists staring out at the North Korean soldiers in the DMZ. Many were there on vacation. All of us were curious, but here we were, taking photos of the buildings and of the parts of North Korea we could see. This isn’t a monument in Washington D.C., it’s a country, dislodged from the world stage in economics and politics, a place where people are routinely starved or worked to death, a place people risk their lives just to escape. Many have died trying to defect from North Korea. People have been forced into slavery after successfully escaping to China and being caught. And here we were, a privileged group of foreigners from all over the world just trying to get a glimpse inside.

Our tour guide was a South Korean woman who was very knowledgeable, albeit scripted. She talked basically the whole time we were on the bus North from Seoul. We crossed over the Unification Bridge into an area for authorized access only. The bridge itself is interesting because the way blockades are set up is so that you cannot drive straight down the bridge, but must go around the barriers which alternate sides of the road. This is miles and miles away from the border and even here they have a line of defense. Yet on we went North.

Our first stop was the 3rd Infiltration Tunnel. We had to wear helmets, which I was initially annoyed by, as we descended the 23 stories into bedrock, but as the tunnel became lower and narrower I hit my helmet on a jagged piece of rock above my head. Thank you, helmet. This place is not for the claustrophobic or the tall. Or the weak because you descend the same way you crawl back out…up an down a steep-enough slope. Some people had to stop and catch their breath on the way up, which is understandable. It’s hard to breathe down there. I even got lightheaded at one point. We should have eaten breakfast…oops.

Now, of course, it being Korea, the land of the selfie, there were places outside to take pictures. No cameras were permitted inside the tunnel so the photo-op (clearly labeled as such) was set up outside the tunnel. There was a fake river, some platforms to sit on, a few benches, and a small section of fence set up with barbed wire attached at the top with “DMZ” spray painted on it–you know, so people could smile and pose near it. (I repeat-WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS THIS PLACE??)

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Allison and I ate some Cheetos and drank canned Korean coffee while we mocked this hellish Disney-scape at an actual zone of conflict. I digress. We boarded our bus again to travel just a few minutes to DORA Observatory where we actually put coins into binoculars, like I did when I was little at the top of the World Trade Center in New York, to see out into North Korea.
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Looking out into North Korea.

They even had a map of things you can see with said binoculars. Most of it was green and just like the South, but it was mysterious because we were actually looking beyond friendly soil into North Korea.
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Interestingly enough, there was a statue of a Buddha on the opposite side of the building in front of, what I assumed to be, a peace bell. This Buddha was directly in front of a barbed wire fence. Not something you see every day.

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From here we went to Dorasan Station where there are trains to Pyeongyang. image
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There is also a car toll there for passage to the North.
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And the whole place felt like a ghost town. The security area was empty, the train doesn’t actually go anywhere, no cars were going through the toll. But here we were, standing next to a train that used to travel to Pyeongyang for tourism, that now sits idle at the station. At Dorasan station we had lunch, as well. Our choices were Bulgogi (meat) or BiBimBap. After lunch we headed for Camp Kim and the absolute highlight of the tour, in my opinion.

Now I know I have a thing for dudes in uniform, but this place was incredible in reality. We had to take a military bus up to the Joint Security Area and we swapped our Korean tour guide for an American military guide. He checked our passports, gave us a brief powerpoint history lesson of the Korean war, DMZ and JSA, and we headed out. When we filed off the bus at the JSA we were told to get into two straight lines. Side note: Civilians trying to do any kind of formation is actually incredibly hilarious. Once we were all assembled we were led up the stairs, past ROK military (Republic of Korea–that’s South Korea for those of you who are not aware) and American military. and through the doors to stand in formation on a platform overlooking the cornflower blue buildings I’ve seen so many times in pictures and videos. At this point all of us were standing face to face with North Korea.
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There’s an understood quiet and respect that’s paid at moments like these. When people you probably wouldn’t associate with in the real world are calm and attentive, listening to our military guides’ directions. We came in on two busses, formed four lines, and were split between two parts of the compound before we switched. First, we entered the room where all meetings take place between the North and the South. We were briefed on the goings on, history and rules within this room before we were permitted to take pictures for a couple minutes. And here we were, standing on (technically) North Korean soil.
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When we switched places with the other group (after our guides had to yell at people who wouldn’t stop taking pictures when asked. Stupid.) we stood back on the steps looking out toward North Korea. At the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea soldiers facing us from their tall staircase.
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We were given more instructions and some more history. And we were also informed that directly to our right was a North Korean guard post. We weren’t allowed to look over there. But we were allowed to take pictures of the compound, including the North Korean side, which allowed me to send what, in my opinion, was the most epic Snapchat I’ve ever sent. We eventually filed back in, through the building and to the busses for our final stop at one of the guard posts.
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Here, we were surrounded on three sides by North Korea. We had a great view of the North’s Propaganda Village, as well. It’s called this because after the South Koreans created a village on their side, the North Koreans matched it. But no one lives there. Many of the buildings have windows that are painted on, or no floors. Much like a warehouse. They also have an intentionally massive flag pole and flag because anything the South does, the North must do bigger and better.
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On our way out we drove in front of the Bridge of No Return, where prisoners of the Korean War were exchanged and made to choose what country they would live in with no chance of returning to the other side.
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We also briefly stopped in front of the monument to the ax murder incident where Southerners and Americans were confronted and attacked by North Koreans when they attempted to cut down a tree that was in their field of vision from the guard tower. Incredible.
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This was the last interaction we had with Northern soil. It was incredibly informative, interesting and, as was said several times, surreal. Something random and amazing about the DMZ, however, is that because it’s been completely uninhabited and undisturbed for decades, it’s an incredible natural wildlife sanctuary with several endangered species living within it. There’s always a silver lining.

So that was the DMZ and JSA. It was a great tour and I’d highly recommend going with the USO through Kooridor. There’s no stop off for shopping or anything that is not specifically purposed for a DMZ experience and I was grateful for that. It’s 100% worth the money.  As weird and touristy as the experience was, I’m not naiive enough to think that if the DMZ did not exist, if the American and ROK military weren’t there to stand guard for our safety on the tour, as well as the safety of South Korea in general, I would still be here in Korea today teaching. So, I’d like to sincerely thank all of the people in this country who keep us safe, no matter what flag you pledge your allegiance to. Coming to Korea has given me a profound understanding of and appreciation for the US military, and has instilled in me serious pride in my country, our troops, and all that they do for us home and away. A healthy side-effect of more than 23,000 people in the US military in Korea. I’m so grateful I wasn’t born in North Korea.

Until next time.
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Goodbye Is A Dirty Word

Throughout our lives we will say goodbye many times. Most of us say “goodbye” in some form every day. Somehow, when taken out of context, goodbye seems so permanent. I’ve had my fair share of all too emotional goodbyes, some permanent, some not. The one goodbye I wish I could have said came too late for it to mean anything to its recipient and that moment, that goodbye, will haunt me in some way for the rest of my life.

I’ve told this story countless times, but it’s worth mentioning again here. The last night I spoke to my father—the last time I saw him alive—I almost left the house without saying goodbye. I yelled up to his office on the second floor to say “see you on Friday” as my friends and I tried to quickly exit and be on our way to Halloween celebrations. He called down for me to wait and he came downstairs to where we were, in the kitchen, almost through the door. He gave me a big hug and what could have been seen as an embarrassing parent kiss and said: “You know we don’t leave without a hug and a kiss and saying I love you. You never know when the last time will be.”

Well, people, that was the last time. Lesson learned. If someone means something to you, if you love them, before you leave you better tell them. You never know when the last time will be.

Rolling my eyes I smiled and said “I love you” and left with my friends. Two days later I would be called out of class to receive the most devastating news of my life. I would have to say my final goodbye to a blue-turning corpse in a cold, uncomfortable hospital room as my world quickly fell to pieces.

These days I say “I love you” a lot. Maybe too much for some people. When I hang up the phone, when I leave a night out or get on a bus to go home I remember to say “goodbye,” “see you tomorrow,” and usually “I love you.” Before it’s too late, I want to say my final goodbyes to the people and place I have called home for the last eight months. There are four more months left on my contract in Korea and after that, I’m gone from here for the foreseeable future. Many of my friends are leaving before that. Some have even seemingly decided to make it easier on themselves by not saying goodbye, not leaving, and just silently slipping away. That one really stings, but to each their own.

After living, studying abroad and making a family in Australia, goodbyes came too soon. I cried…a lot. Not for the people I was leaving, because, ultimately, I can see them again. I cried for the circumstance. I cried because never again in my life will I be in that place, with those people, in the same mindset, ever again. It’s almost like mourning for a time you can never get back. It’s almost as hard as mourning for a person you’ll never get back.

In a few short weeks someone I’ve become extremely close to over the last few months will leave. A couple weeks after that, another will go. And this will continue until I make my final exit to sweatier pastures in August. Before you all leave and we become swept up into another world and another life adventure, I want to tell you all how much I love you. Without you, this year would not have been what it was and my life would not become what it is about to. I’ve fallen in love over and over again with the kindness, sincerity, humor, stability and support of your beautiful souls and I cannot say thank you enough.

The first one to leave will be the hardest to let go. Because of who this person is, how much I love them and because they’re first. I’ve always ALWAYS said that leaving is the easy part. The people left behind suffer far more than the person moving on. They leave for new adventures, excitement, chaos and uncertainty. They get wrapped up into a new world and are constantly on the go. It is the people left behind who truly mourn for their presence. In a way it’s like living with a ghost. One that you still talk to and love unconditionally, but that is obviously, noticeably not physically around you anymore.

I have a habit of running away from this feeling. I don’t want to feel sad or like I’ve lost a piece of me, or like my perfect little circle of trust is crumbling around me. But this time I have no choice. I am contractually obligated to stick this shit out, grin and bear it. Choice or no choice there is only one remedy for these feelings and this situation. It is to stay ever-present in the moment. Don’t look too far ahead or behind each day, but remember to appreciate all that you have RIGHT NOW, here, at this moment, because soon it won’t be the same. And once that change is made, you will never get back what you have now.

Life and people are transient, and that’s the beauty in it all. People change, circumstance changes. You always have the opportunity to be with those people again, in another way, but while we’re here, right now, I say we celebrate and raise (several) glasses to the love we have found in each other.

I love you all so very much and I will carry you and your influence with me wherever I go. Thank you for being the best family I could have dreamed of.

Love Always,
Kate

Commencement Considerations

For those of you unaware of the school calendar in Korea, each school year begins in early March, and ends just before Seollal (Lunar New Year) in February. (They also have about four weeks’ vacation in January…which makes no sense to me, but that’s not the point). This means that my sixth graders are graduating elementary school and heading off to middle school. In America, this was exciting and scary, but not particularly momentous. In Korea, it’s more scary than exciting and it’s important enough to require a graduation ceremony.

Lots of kids don’t really look forward to middle school because this is where their childhood goes to die, essentially. Schooling in Korea is crazy intense and I never spend one day envying their lives. Many of them already attend Hagwons, or private academies, after school hours in addition to their public schooling. Often these kids will be in their school after school for hours, sometimes until 10-11pm. This all really ramps up in middle school, peaking heavily in high school because their college entrance tests are basically the most important job they have as kids. Unfortunately, Korea has one of the highest suicide rates for a developed nation due to this intensive schooling. Up until a few years ago, school was held Monday through Saturday, even.

Sometimes I get sad for the childhood they seem to be missing out on. But honestly, all of their friends are basically on the same level and if they didn’t attend these Hagwons, it’s likely they wouldn’t really have anyone to hang out with outside of them anyway. It’s all relative, more or less, and I do my best not to presume that my childhood was any better or worse than theirs seems to be. It is hard, sometimes, when I see kids falling asleep in class, or when they tell me that, rather than taking a break during holidays or vacation, they spent their time at the Academy. But such is the way of life in Korea and many don’t really know that it’s any different than kids from other countries.

For me, graduation is bittersweet. I mean, I barely know (most) of these kids, but I can’t help but feel proud that they’re doing well, growing up and moving on. However the ones I’ve connected with have left a permanent mark in my soul and I can’t help but miss them. There’s really one girl that has made an impact on me these last five months. She’s taught me a lot about curiosity, social customs and perseverance in Korea.

박수빈 is an average-height, slender sixth grade girl. She has straight, mid-length black hair and is always smiling. She also has the English proficiency of someone much, much younger. In fact, I can communicate better with some of my third grade students than I can with her. That hasn’t stopped her from trying, however. The very first day I arrived in Gwangju, I met her. She was SO EXCITED to meet the new English teacher. I thought it was a phase, feeling out the new teacher, but soon she was visiting me for up to an hour after school, usually once a week. As I said, she has very little English and I have even less Korean at my disposal. Together we would mime, draw, guess, translate and teach one another things we thought were useful to the conversation (me to her) or in life (her to me). That girl just wanted to spend time with me, and the more she came by, the more I wanted to spend time with her, too.

A couple months ago her father passed away. Many of you know that when I was 16, my dad died suddenly. It blew my world to pieces and when I heard the news, my heart broke for her. But there she was, a couple days later, in my class. It took her a couple weeks to get back to the never-ending smiles, but her spirit never broke. What a strong fucking kid, man. I wanted more than anything to tell her my story and let her know I was there for her, but I couldn’t, and I haven’t. Maybe it’s a good thing. I was still there for her after school and during class, and our relationship didn’t change. Sometimes, when everyone else is giving you pity, all you want is to feel normal. Maybe this relationship and language barrier were meant to be. At this point, all I know is that she is someone I will never forget. As a new teacher, both in life and in Korea, she was excited to meet me and genuinely liked me…and I feel like that’s half the battle.

I often look back on my schooling and think about the teachers who had an influence on me in more than an academic way. And honestly, I think my father’s death had a lot to do with that. I was supported by teachers I was close to, and became closer with those whose advice I sought in the wake of it all. I’m so grateful that I have maintained a genuine relationship, of one kind of another, with several of these teachers (GV, Pernice, I’m lookin’ at you). This is a whole different feeling, though. Now I’m the teacher and the student is the person impacting me. I wonder if I’ve made an impact like that on any of my teachers growing up. Frankly, looking back, I’m hoping whatever impression I may have left was positive and not negative…I was a rough teenager.

Tomorrow is the commencement for my visiting school. 박수빈 graduated last Friday at my main school. I’m profoundly grateful for her spirit and that of many of the students leaving school. I really didn’t think it would move me in such a way, but here I am being introspective and sentimental. I miss these kids already. If I have nothing else to show for my first year of teaching when I leave Korea, I will treasure the impact these students have had on me. I miss them already.

Taking Thailand: 태국 사람 입니다

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Transitioning back into Korean society after two weeks frolicking around Thailand has been…challenging. From the land of smiles, we returned to a cold city where few strangers smile at you and old lady elbows are common in your side. A rude welcome home, for sure, but not without its surprising upsides. Honestly, I mostly missed the food. And my apartment. And hot water and electricity overall as a normal, daily, everywhere kinda thing. Unfortunately schools are still unheated. This did not change while we were away. Sigh.

Exploring a new place is one of my favorite things about life in general. And some of the greatest takeaways from these new experiences are the friendships we make and conversations we have. And while I did meet wonderful people from all over the world, I met some not so cool ones, too, and they made me think about traveling in a way I hadn’t really considered before.

Reclining Buddha, Palace, Bangkok

Reclining Buddha, Palace, Bangkok

I’m not sure if I’m becoming more observant or if I’m simply getting older, but travel snobs are everywhere.

Palace, Bangkok

Palace, Bangkok

I’m not talking about the people who go big and luxe, but those who brag about where they’ve been and how remote it is. Some will say places you’ve been are “lame” or “overrated.”

Buddha, Palace, Bangkok

Buddha, Palace, Bangkok

Overrated? Maybe. but these places were popularized for a reason. Shut up. You sound like an asshole.

Another thing my eyes were opened to in Tonsai Beach was how oblivious travelers can be. I was very happy to stay in Tonsai and briefly live in the jungle with the monkeys and the cockroaches, reveling at the limestone cliffs around us.

Tonsai Beach

Tonsai Beach

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The view from my hammock on our bungalow porch, Tonsai Beach

It was incredible. Truly breathtaking. However, at night, while sitting in a bar, maybe a little too happy, I looked over to the space the flood lights illuminated and saw an older woman washing dishes, going about her business. I saw the shanty half-built pavilion next to the bar.

Tonsai Beach

Tonsai Beach

I even watched one of the bartenders play on Facebook for what seemed like forever. And there I was, sipping on a drink, playing Jenga and chillin’ with my Korean BFF and travel buddy, Allison. I couldn’t help but feel like an asshole for being there. For exploiting this beautiful amazing place and spending my night eating and drinking what locals served me. Locals who also have big dreams and ambitions that reach beyond serving drugs, alcohol and food to backpackers.

Monkeys in Tonsai Beach

Monkeys in Tonsai Beach

Then I looked at the tourists around me, who seemed to be completely unaware of their contribution to the inevitable downfall of this beautiful natural wonder.

I am so grateful to have experienced Tonsai and Railay (Railay Beach is right next to Tonsai, separated by a limestone cliff) and to have enjoyed sunsets, sunrises and great conversation. But these are places that are completely inaccessible without a boat. Ferries and smaller Longtail boats are constantly hovering, beaching, and taxiing people from place to place. There are no cars and no roads. At low tide, you can see and feel the effect this is having on the beach when you look around and see white coral everywhere. Some people take this as a souvenir, but I only saw a graveyard. White, sand-washed coral is remnant of a dead or dying reef. And I felt like I was part of the problem. I took boats to and from Tonsai; I craved electricity and running water.

Railay Beach

Railay Beach

At Tonsai Beach, electricity only runs from 6pm to 6am…through generators. So we are polluting the air as well. The only relief for me in Tonsai was the people who had traveled from all over the world to climb the cliffs there. They appreciated this place as more than a backpacker settlement. They weren’t there for the lifestyle, they were there for the cliffs, and I appreciated talking to them.

Sunset at Tonsai Beach

Sunset at Tonsai Beach

Our open-air bathroom in our Tonsai Beach bungalow

Our open-air bathroom in our Tonsai Beach bungalow

I was in love with our small bungalow, even though we only had one outlet to charge our phones, and even though we needed (NEEDED) the mosquito net that encased our bed, and even though our open-air bathroom welcomed visitors, like the biggest cockroach I’ve ever seen.

As much as I seemed to have gotten in my head about all this, there were some really amazing moments here. We took a kayaking trip through a mangrove jungle. It was beautiful and full of curious primates…and other tourists.

Lagoon near Ao Nang

Lagoon near Ao Nang

Our guide, Allison and the monkey who climbed around our kayaks in the Mangrove Jungle

Our guide, Allison and the monkey who climbed around our kayaks in the Mangrove Jungle

However, for me, the highlight was hearing our tour guide, the skinniest man you’ve ever seen, recount the day of the 2004 tsunami. He told us that he was in a boat on the water and due to quick thinking by his smart and experienced father, he was out of harm’s way when the waves hit shore, though they were stuck on the boat for several days.

His father had warned the rest of their family and luckily, everyone was ok. He explained that once they returned, their boat was used to transport bodies back to Ao Nang for days, maybe weeks after it happened. Guys, THIS is the reason I travel. PEOPLE make you see the world differently. People make you care for a place that you never thought twice about on a real, emotional level.

Lagoon Swimming near Ao Nang

Lagoon Swimming near Ao Nang

We also had some great conversations with the guys that tended bar at our little bungalow village. They were Thai Rasta men who played with fire and messed with the stray cats. And they were awesome. They were my favorite people we met down there. They were just having a good time, talking to us and hanging out with us and serving us drinks. Really some very funny, chilled out people. Locals are where it’s at.

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Me on the porch of our bungalow in Tonsai Beach

Unfortunately we did get kind of fucked over when we attempted to tour Ko Phi Phi. Our boat never came to get us, leaving Allison, me and another couple standing disappointed on Railay Beach. Not ones to stress and complain, we shook it off and set up shop on the beach to take in the gorgeous view and the luxurious (yes, luxurious) sand.

Hanging out in my hammock on the porch of our bungalow in Tonsai Beach

On the bungalow porch in Tonsai

 

We had to wait for low tide to hike back to Tonsai anyway…unless we wanted to wade in hip-deep water just to get to the path. It was gorgeous, the water was warm, and we just chilled. Not a terrible alternative. Tonsai and Railay were actually the last places we visited. Before this we went to Ko Lanta, Chiang Mai and, of course, Bangkok.

Long Beach, Ko Lanta

Long Beach, Ko Lanta

Bungalow in Ko Lanta

Bungalow in Ko Lanta

Ko Lanta felt like a honeymoon. We splurged, paying about $35 each per night in a gorgeous bungalow just a short walk from the sand. The beach went on forever and we took this time to chill out. After Chiang Mai we needed a break…you’ll understand why in a minute. The people here were very friendly, and it was the first time I ever had to wait somewhere for prayer time to be over so I could pay a bill. I liked it, though. The whole island felt like a family.

Sunset in Long Beach, Ko Lanta

Sunset in Long Beach, Ko Lanta

Long Beach, Ko Lanta

Long Beach, Ko Lanta

Chiang Mai was a whole different story. I absolutely loved Chiang Mai. The food, the people, the city, the outskirts, all of it. We had an amazing adventure, from meeting some amazing ladies (Page and Sarah, I’m lookin’ at you) and staying at a really cool, friendly hostel (called Mojito Garden, if you’re interested) in a conveniently located part of town, to partying, to jungle excursions. Here, we got into the party scene and had some drinks and dancing.

Allison and I at the waterfall in the jungle outside of Chiang Mai

Allison and I at the waterfall in the jungle outside of Chiang Mai

We also rode elephants, trekked through the jungle, swam in a (freezing) waterfall, and begrudgingly lowered ourselves into a pitch black cave filled with hundreds of bats.

Oh, we also met and hung out with the actor who played Cato in the Hunger Games. Pretty cool guy, actually. His cousin was pretty cool, as well. There are too many stories to tell about Chiang Mai. Too many stories and too many people to mention because it’s an amazing place…and I just might find myself back there to teach because I loved it so much.

Mojito Garden's chill space, Chiang Mai

Mojito Garden’s chill space, Chiang Mai

"The Girls" Sarah, Allison, Page and I at Reggae Bar, Chiang Mai

“The Girls” Sarah, Allison, Page and I at Reggae Bar, Chiang Mai

One story I will tell is not one I’ll soon forget. Following our drunken night with Cato, Allison and I didn’t wake up for our elephant excursion until the driver was there to pick us up in the morning. So we woke up, panicked, packed, and got moving as quick as our still-drunk selves could. We were the saddest, most hungover humans at the elephant sanctuary (Yes, sanctuary. Never go to a place that is not a rescue center as elephant abuse and neglect is rampant in the tourism industry throughout Thailand).10917113_10153637633004152_2586093767311250265_n

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Uphill and downhill on an elephant is scary

We were so hungover, in fact, that at one point I lost my pants. Hips to ankle. Separately, Allison came within seconds of puking on the elephant. Riding an elephant is not as leisurely as it seems. You’re either sitting on its shoulder blades…so when it walks, your hips rock side to side—especially uphill, or you’re sitting with a tall spine between your legs. After Allison dismounted to vomit, I flew solo on our elephant…like really solo because it decided to start walking back up the mountain when the guide wasn’t looking. He came running after me as I kept looking back with an “Oh fuck, how do I make this thing stop?” look on my face. Overall though, it was a great day and an incredible experience.

Just before she took off up the mountain

Just before she took off up the mountain

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Rantong Elephant Rescue, Chiang Mai

Rantong Elephant Rescue, Chiang Mai

All of this differed greatly from our time in Bangkok. Because my Mom is incredible, she put us up in an amazing hotel as a Christmas gift. We had a bedroom, living room, dining and kitchen space, and our own balcony…amazing. The first night in Thailand we headed to Khao San Road to see what this party place was all about.

Suite, Bangkok

Suite, Bangkok

While chillin’ drinking some beers at a bar, we started chatting with the guy sitting alone next to us. Ali is from Pakistan and he, along with his friend Faisal, were a couple of the best people we met throughout the whole trip. After sightseeing at the palace the next day, we met up with the two of them for an incredible dinner (thank you again), and afterward they took us to a Sky Bar that overlooked the city. Here, we had some drinks and an amazing conversation.

Rooftop bar of our hotel, Bangkok

Rooftop bar of our hotel, Bangkok

Again, people are what open your eyes to the world. As an American, I’m kind of afraid of Pakistan. But these two, producers, changed my perception of what Pakistan is and who Pakistani people are. I will never forget the stories they told me about Islam, extremism and phone snatchers. Some of it was funny, like phone snatching at gunpoint, and some of it was intense and scary, like when we discussed the mass murder of school children just a few months ago. I’m truly grateful to have had such wonderful conversationalists, open to talk about the world and their country in a way I would normally be afraid to discuss.

For all of this, I consider myself luckier than most. For the people I’ve met and the places I’ve been and the things I’ve experienced. Though I became somewhat unimpressed with the kinds of people I was meeting at points, I’m happy to have seen it all with a fresh perspective. I’m not sure it would have meant as much had I not. So, I don’t think I need to say this, but I fell in love with Thailand. It isn’t perfect, but no place is perfect. I’m seriously considering going back to teach, so who knows, maybe there are more stories yet to come. Until then…there’s some food for thought. Enjoy the pictures!

Later, haters

Later, haters