Ms. Bocquin here - It has been about 24 hours since we arrived back in California. The cold weather feels strange compared to the heat of Cambodia. 

On our last full day in Cambodia, we traveled from the village of Banteay Chhmar back to Siem Reap. Once there, we relaxed and enjoyed the Phare circus. We were amazed by the athleticism, grace, and charisma of the performers as they told a story of reconciliation.

On the last day we also had a time to reflect and share about our experiences. Here are some of the things that were shared:

Arjun: "A goal I have when I return is to be more grateful for the things I have and not take things for granted."

Atticus: "I learned that Cambodia is a rich country with a long history and really hot weather."

August: I learned about the main values of Buddhism. (paraphrase)

Brendan: "Something I learned about Khmer classical dance is that the different hand gestures describe different parts of a tree."

Bridget: "I learned the difference between my physical and mental abilities."

Edge: "One thing I thought was cool about Siem Reap is that nothing can be taller than Angkor Wat."

Elizabeth: "A goal [I have] is to be a responsible traveler."

Hayden: "My favorite memory was riding the tuk tuk early in the morning for the sunrise [at Angkor Wat]."

Julia: "My favorite memory was getting a necklace from one of the vendors as a gift."

Justin: "My highlight was the interview with Chef Nak."

Katie: "My highlight was the wheelchair workshop."

Maddie: "My favorite memory on this trip was the Cambodian Living Arts portion."

Mia: "My highlight was the magic music bus."

Mimi: "My highlight was the homestay and playing with the children at the homestay."

Oliver: "The highlight of mine was the cooking class."

Ronen: "I love Siem Reap because of the temples."

Zan: "My favorite memory was getting to know the host family."

Ms. Bocquin: "My highlight was the temple ruins in Banteay Chhmar- I could have spent hours there."

Ms. Hamilton: "Something I learned about Angkor Wat is that they did all those carvings using little rocks [as chisels]."

Ms. Tomokiyo: "My favorite memory was watching the students in the fields planting and harvesting."

It was a wonderful trip!

Today I explored the village of Banteay Chhmar.

I started the day with tours of two textile workshops. Watching women weave vibrant strands of silk with complex wooden contraptions, I admired both how smoothly their bodies synchronized with their machines as well as the pride the women appeared to take in their labor. Picture a Khmer woman in her mid-fifties pushing pedals up and down with her feet while passing a spool side to side with her hands, with a calm expression of half-closed eyes above a soft smile not unlike that of the several Buddha statues dotting the village.

From there, a tractor took me to Banteay Chhmar’s rice milling machine. Living in service-centric Los Angeles, I rarely encounter agricultural machinery. So when the milling machine whirred to life, I climbed to the top of it, where a visceral grasp of the physics I study in school struck me like a grain of rice hitting a metal pan. A single motor turned dozens of axles in different directions using a combination of perpendicular pulleys and twisting rubber bands, an enormous conversion of electricity into rotational kinetic energy that fed an entire village.

Another tractor ride away lay the village’s cassava farms. Bumping along a dirt road, I surveyed the landscape around me: the light from the cerulean sky scattered across lush fields skirted by distant power cables would have made for a fine Impressionist painting. To me, the whole farm and its stewards represented a rare remnant of a lost world. In the fields, I helped harvest the cassava, which consisted of tugging at a thick stem until an enormous potato-like plant burst through the red soil with a sound not unlike the croak of a frog. At first I found the process strangely satisfying, but soon felt sobered by the realization that my “fun” was the farmers’ daily labor. It is unfortunate that most tasks are enjoyable when they can be done but dreary when they must be.

In the afternoon, I spoke with two elders of Banteay Chhmar: the village chief and, incidentally, my homestay father. A couple moments in our conversation stood out. First, when asked whether Banteay Chhmar’s weather had changed during their lifetimes, the chief resolutely responded that the village had grown more hot and arid with consequences for its crops. I have long had an academic understanding of climate change, but meeting people who had experienced its impacts firsthand added a human dimension to that understanding. The second response that the elders gave that I pondered answered the question of what one thing they wanted to impart to the village youth. Likely influenced by their experiences of witnessing and surviving the horrors of the Khmer Rouge regime, both responded that they wanted the next generation to understand the importance of living a moral life, defined by values like tradition and hospitality. Doubtless some nuance died in translation, but I did see the chief gesturing with her hands clasped in the form of a respectful greeting.

Before dinner, I wandered around the remains of the Banteay Chhmar Temple. If the cassava farms could have constituted an Impressionist painting, then the temple could have constituted a Romantic one: The ancient stone ruins illuminated by a golden sunset and torn asunder by towering green trees recalled the setting of a Caspar David Friedrich painting. Alternatively, one could perhaps read the ruins as a Cambodian embodiment of Shelley’s Ozymandias: The Banteay Chhmar Temple once enshrined King Jayavarman VII and his son’s victory over the Cham invaders, but Nature and occupying armies over the centuries brought down the King’s mighty display. Power is fleeting; all is temporary.

-Brendan

As we ventured towards Banteay Chhmar while parting with the tranquil atmosphere of Siem Reap, we began the day at an elephant sanctuary, awaiting us beyond the two hour bus ride. Immersed within the vivid breath of this sanctuary, we were transported through the force of resilient tractors as we eventually arrived to encounter our first elephant. Jok, our guide at the sanctuary, conveyed his thorough knowledge of the endangered species while amplifying the living beauty of these creatures, not tainted by the yearning to exploit their presence. Utilizing the appealing nature of butchered sugarcane and watermelons to draw the elephants near, we were able to gaze in close proximity to these momentous animals separately. With poor eyesight as well as an overall state of vulnerability within nature, the elephants at this particular space have experienced immense care, fueling a regaining trust once scarred by the detrimental acts of humans. This significant experience embraced a tender moment as it instilled a delicate sense of connection with the world around us, not merely revolving around humanity, rather encompassing the unity within all life that we often lose sight of. 

As we commenced our journey through the intentional maneuvering of our bus, we arrived at the individual homestays we shall be settling in within the next few days while getting acquainted with radiating energy of welcome from our hosts. Throughout the entirety of this trip, smothering heat has been a notable element we have encountered yet funnily enough, a thunderstorm struck this evening. As we indulged in the presence of umami packed food and the simple yet fulfilling company of one another, the rhythmic trickling of the crisp rain poured within the caked ground, washing yet another day in Cambodia away.

-Mia

Today I was awakened at 3:50 am not looking forward to the hard start in the morning. My mindset was quickly redirected when we first arrived at Angkor Wat. Although it was completely dark out, and we could barely see the ground we were walking on, the temple's grand figure was hard to ignore. Being able to observe the sunrise just as ancient monks once did truly created a core memory for me. 

In the evening we got to revisit Pub Street and the huge market full of shops, music, and food.  This experience stuck out to me the most because of the kindness that the Cambodian people possess. I had walked up to a stand full of eye catching jewelry with every intention of barging for the best prices. I immediately greeting the owner in Khmer to show respect, and he was overjoyed to see that I spoke his native tongue. When I was trying to get the best prices for the bangles, I was shut down numerous times, the stand owner explained to me that his family handmakes all the jewelry and doesn't get the money they rightfully deserve because of the selling fees they must pay. I could sense that he was being sincere and I knew I wanted to help his family in the ways that I could. I ended up paying for the bangles, and his smile was bigger than the moon! We talked for a couple of minutes, then I said farewell in Khmer to the store owner. As I was walking away from his stand, he stopped me and brought me back to his jewelry. I saw him reaching for a shiny gold necklace and I got confused. I knew I only bought the bracelets, so maybe he was trying to sell me something else. He brought the necklace over to me and told me " This is for you because you support the Khmer people, I give you this as a gift from my heart," as he said that I nearly cried. I thanked him in Khmer too many times to count and I walked away with a huge smile on my face. His kindness has stuck to me ever since that moment and it's taught me that extending grace and respect to people is the key to their hearts. I am very fortunate to be the one buying instead of selling, and these people work extremely hard to make ends meet. I am forever grateful for all I have and the kindness this stranger showed me. 

Julia Swanson

- Landmine Museum 

- Apopo

    The morning sun rises, illuminating the sky with the softest of clay reds -- the blending of earth and sky. Although our days are leaving quickly, I am reminded every morning of the differences in the environment around me. I pause to feel the sway of the mango tree, to hear the vibrations of the funeral chant, to feel the roots and ants below my feet. These senses seems novel to me, but they are indicators of home for others, loved by others. A moment of solitude passes: "beautiful Cambodia, land of sugar palms, fruit, flowers, fish, stars, calls us to all to reverence our universe." Surrounded by the immense beauty of Metta Karuna Reflection Center, I allow myself to reflect on the connections I have forged with the people from this land. My mind travels to Mr. Aki Ra, the founder of the Landmine Museum in Siem Reap. Having lived most of his young life in the war, first forced to fight as a child soldier for the Khmer Rouge, then to survive, fighting alongside the North Vietnamese, Aki Ra remembers the time of violence deeply. While a solider, he was tasked with planting landmines, many of which remain buried in the present. After the war, Aki Ra sought reconciliation with his time as a child solider by dedicating his life to detonating the bombs that polluted the earth of his home. Using his knowledge of landmines, he successfully detonated over 50,000 bombs, many of which he displays within his landmine museum to educate visitors about the dangers of this technology. Aki Ra kindly guided us through his story and museum. While walking through the exhibits, he often stopped to look at a pictures of his children, whom he had adopted to ameliorate the disparities they faced due to suffering injuries from bombs. Many of his students had gone on to attend university, studying areas including medicine and law. Aki Ra's eyes gleamed with pride over his children's accomplishments. Despite having received the CNN Heroes Award and other accreditations, Aki Ra wanted to highlight his children rather than himself. He often glanced at his daughter, who worked at the storefront of the museum's store, when he felt emotional from his recount. I am inspired by Aki Ra's usage of knowledge from a traumatic time within his life to create a better future for his country. Through education and the field missions, Aki Ra and his team continue to reconcile with the lingering impacts of the Khmer Rouge's regime and the subsequent civil war. Upon departure from the museum, I was left pondering one distinct phrase: "when the war is over and the soldiers leave, the landmines remain." How do we reckon with what is left behind after war? How does a nation rebuild after a period of immense violence? How can one reconcile with oneself? Aki Ra demonstrates that in the face of the past, we can not forget, but we can live the next day differently. 

-Mimi

 

Holding a hero rat!!

GIP Cambodia Trip Blog - 3/22/24

Today was very eventful compared to yesterday's bus journey and wheelchair workshop. We started off the day with a short Khmer lesson and then went to conclude our collaboration with Nobel Peace Prize winner Mr. Tun Channareth. He talked to us about the danger and prevalence of cluster munitions and landmines in Cambodia, and the work that he and his organization does to protect Cambodians by clearing all landmines by 2025. After a meaningful discussion on actions and making a positive change to the world, Silong (our tour guide) taught us about the Cambodian education system and responsible tourism and charity. We talked about how to best approach donations in order to ensure that they are used effectively and go where they are needed most. We learned about the different approaches to and difficulties with education in the United States versus Cambodia and how to help resolve the most important shortcomings of each.

After lunch, we went to PEPY, an educational NGO which offers scholarships and study opportunities to disadvantaged students in an effort to break the cycle of poverty. Despite the language barrier -- they had spent just three months learning English -- we had a great time getting to know the students and learning some of their favorite songs and dances. The students were really kind and genuine and we learned a lot from them. Later, we rode in tuk-tuks to the Siem Reap night market, a lively and vibrant bazaar accompanied by the luminescent glow of neon lights above storefronts and bustling crowds looking for a good time. Some of us even utilized our Khmer knowledge, bartering with shopkeepers for the best price we could get. Looking forward to tomorrow!

-Katie and Arjun

We started off the morning with an early wake-up call to catch the bus at 7:30 a.m. We would be journeying to the Metta Karuna Meditation Center in Siem Reap from our hotel in Phnom Penh. The bus ride was a long and arduous journey that lasted a total of eight hours, with bathroom breaks and a delicious lunch in between. On the journey, we observed the shift from the bustling city life of Phnom Penh to the rural countryside of Cambodia, where homes and stops were few and far between. We also took note of how houses had adjusted to the local climates and traditions of their surroundings. Houses on the flat plains had stilts to avoid flooding and were much shorter than the narrow and tall buildings in Phnom Penh. 

After a long and tiring journey, we arrived at the meditation center in Siem Reap. Once we arrived, we took part in a wheelchair building workshop led by Nobel Peace Prize winner Mr. Tun Channareth. We were fascinated by the fact that all of the wheelchair designs and components were designed and sourced by him, and by how passionate he was about helping others. Our day ended with a  nice quiet meal and an exercise reflecting on our journey thus far, and what we wish to learn in the coming days.

-Arjun and Zan