Xi An — terracotta at its best

Xi An, the ancient capital of China and home to China’s first emperor. We arrived by plane after making a quick change in Beijing. Cut it a bit narrow as we not only had to change planes, we also had to change terminals, as the domestic flights leave from a totally different area than the international flights. We managed to make it with the assistance of a young baggage fellow, who spoke a bit of English. Rather a rude arrival in Xi An, as it is raining and considerably colder than we had become accustomed to. Oh well — not to deter us as we have come to see the terracotta warriors, and that we shall do — regardless. With the assistance of our hotel, we arranged for a car and a guide, who are to meet us in the A.M., and so they did.

Now China’s first emperor, who was previously mentioned, managed to bring the many different groups under his own leadership. This was quite a feat, as they had previously spent all their time fighting each other. As he was patting himself on the back for this accomplishment, he also appointed himself emperor of all of China. I suppose that he enjoyed this position in life so much that he decided to carry it on into his afterlife, and thus the terracotta warriors. One must give his head a shake to remember that all this took place over two thousand years ago. Some ten thousand life sized soldiers were made from clay, and fired in very large kilns. These fellows were comprised of several different bodies, depending upon their position in the army, and their rank. They were also equipped with weapons, such as crossbows, spears etc. The heads of these individuals were cast separately, allowing for different facial features, and hairstyle, defining rank. These individuals were then painted in life like colors. In addition to the warriors themselves, there were also cast horses and chariots, a most formidable army to any invaders in the afterlife. Only about 10 percent of these antiquities have been unearthed, as the paint on the warriors deteriorates very rapidly when exposed to the atmosphere. The archaeologists have chosen to keep the remainder as is, until a method of keeping the paint can be developed. The tomb of the emperor is known, but is not being opened at present, for the same reasons. I guess that it stayed covered until the 1970’s, so any additional time is nothing in the big picture.

Our thoughts of Xi An were of a small community, basically there to support the terracotta warriors, —- wrong, this is a big city, several million people, as I guess befits the former capital of China. It was also the beginning of the Silk Road to Europe. Speaking of silk, we did go to a factory where they did the silk thing, also the terracotta thing, and oh yes, we did get samples of each. I suspect that one day is not enough time to do justice to Xi An, but then four days doesn’t scratch the surface of China. Our guide and our driver help us with our now “way, way too much luggage”, to the night train, for our trip back to Beijing — the final bit of our holiday. More to follow —

T

Halong Bay

Back on the “night train”, back to Hanoi. Home of “uncle Ho” — Ho Chi Minh that is. Still too many people and far too many motorbikes, but better than Saigon. We got to our hotel by the old French quarter in the dark of night, and got to sit in the lobby until our room was available. Mega tired, as contrary to my childhood memories, sleeping on a train is not blissful, with the hypnotic “clackety-clack”and gentle sway. The gentle sway is actually an unexpected tossing about, accompanied by banging and clanking as well as the clackety-clack. The up side is that our room is great and a nap is in order. The hotel will also allow us to leave the brunt of our ever-increasing luggage here while we spend a couple of days at Halong Bay.

We don’t intend to do a great deal in Hanoi, as we will be returning here prior to our trip back to Bangkok and then Beijing, but it is quite pleasant to wander about absorbing some of the old French architecture and the bustling, narrow streets. Little “mom and pop” shops everywhere — many in spaces no wider than a narrow hallway, and the sidewalks cluttered with parked motorbikes and food vendors, complete with sidewalk kitchens.  Chicken on a stick and “mystery meat”, everywhere. Oh, and a note of interest for the travelling public. It is pretty safe to eat even the “mystery meat” during the first two weeks of the lunar month, as it is bad luck to eat “dog” during the first two weeks. The last two weeks are a little different; as it is only bad luck then ,for the dog, and you may well get a “fido” sandwich.

Hitched a ride with a tour group to Halong Bay. We are staying in Halong for a couple of days — getting into our wind down stage methinks. Halong is a beach area on a huge bay. The bay is inundated with over two thousand limestone spikes, vertically thrusting themselves from the ocean floor. Many of these islands are of a sufficient size to support small communities, but the majority is unpopulated. A number of the islands are also homes to beautiful limestone caves, complete with stalagmites and stalactites, which we intend to visit. The bay itself is normally impressive, with beautiful blue-green calm waters, but we had to take their word for this as it was quite overcast while we were there. We made our arrangements for our boat tour to the caves and fishing villages, and the returned to our hotel and a little R & R.

An early morning finds me waiting, alone, for our car to go to the tour boat. Bonnie professes to a visit from General Montezuma, and chooses to guard the “hopper” in our hotel to that of travelling by boat, to parts unknown. I, of course, will take countless pictures so that she is able to “share the moment” when I return. Rather that than sharing her moment I think. The caves are really quite spectacular, caverns thirty or forty feet high with walls dressed in flows of limestone in many different colors. The colors have been enhanced by use of colored lights, of course, but are spectacular nonetheless. The caves have been re-vamped for the convenience of the tourist, with paving stones and stairs throughout the caves. Quite a sight!!

At the jetty, we watch the tour boats play pinball with each other, as they vie for position so that they may pick up their passengers and continue on their way. This banging and thumping of the boats is obviously not a new thing as it is all taken in stride — just another day at the office. Our next stop is a floating fishing village, which is comprised of float homes surrounded by pens, in which the locals keep live fish, destined for market. The locals venture out in small boats to catch the fish, which are then transferred to the holding pens. I assume that a pick up and delivery dude then transports them to market. Anything to make a buck.

Our return to Hanoi was as uneventful as our leaving, other than the rain. The rain even dampened Bonnie’s enthusiasm for shopping, well a little bit at least. It will only increase her enthusiasm for shopping in China, which I am certain will take place – regardless of the weather. More to follow at that time —

T

Sapa, by train

As passengers on the “Night Train” from Hanoi to Sapa, we were entitled to our own sleeping compartment. Well not really entitled, I guess, but if you paid a little extra you could have your own compartment. Have you ever watched those old “classic” movies  –the black and white kind where something untoward is going to happen on the train? Well we lived the feeling. I kept looking in the hallway for Alfred Hitchcock, I didn’t spot him, but I’m certain he was there. We arrived at the end of the line at 5:30 A.M. Now this is even before my breakfast, but we manage to extricate ourselves and our “way too much luggage” out of the train and into our car for the hour drive to Sapa.

Very hard to say too much about Sapa, from a scenic standpoint, but suffice to saw it was awe-inspiring. This is an area in the northwest of Vietnam that has historically been inhabited by the hill tribes, and there are many. The ones around Sapa are primarily Hmong or Dzao peoples, and they are evident by their costumes. Having very little to do, the women of these groups while away their time by harvesting hemp fiber and weaving it into cloth. They then have only to dye the cloth and cut and sew it into clothes. To counteract the drabness, they can then hand embroider elaborate designs on the new clothing, with threads that they have also dyed. Of course, as the dyes that they use are all natural, they get to harvest the necessary plants for the required dyes. Any extras, they can take to town and try to sell to the tourists. This may give them a few coins to purchase possibly a piece of meat for when they get to make the evening meal. Now I possibly make this sound as though they must do this every day — and this is not really the case, for in the planting and harvesting season, they must attend to the rice fields, and some days they must gather firewood and so don’t have to go to market. This is in addition to having their obligatory child per year.

 Bonnie and I visited one of the mountain villages and had a guided tour by some of the women folk. These were more the elderly, who spent most of their day with embroidery and tourists. One of the more “chatty” of the ladies looked to be well into her nineties — she was fifty-two. It must be that the clean mountain air is not all that good for you after all.

It probably sounds as though the women have to do it all, and this is not really the case. The men, for the most part, have to make the rice paddies and prepare the fields for planting. They do this with the help of a water buffalo, if they can afford one. Now making a field in mountain country “ain’t no easy chore”. The solution here was to form a retaining wall from rock, and fill the formed area with the soil that you scrape from the area where you got the rock. You then form a new area from the lower level of the rock retainer. Some of these retained areas are no more than five or six feet wide. The end result is a terraced mountainside of arable fields. These fields, of course, had to be both level and parallel, as they had to be able to hold water for the rice paddies. The men also had to tend to the tobacco crops and manufacture and distill the rice wine. The rice wine is actually more like vodka, and is mostly for the men. The tobacco is also only for the men. I guess that the women could join them, if they would ever hurry up and get their work done.

In truth, the mountain area is very beautiful and the hill peoples are very friendly and although they have very little, appear to be quite happy. I guess that we sometimes lose perspective of what is really important.

As their entire existence relates to farming in mountainous country, I was going to offer them another solution for land preparation. Now I am unable to take credit for this, as it was actually put forth by my old buddy Art, and he came up with the idea without the benefit of even a degree in engineering. He surmised that if one were to take a D8 Cat and knock the tops off the mountains, you could push these mountaintops into the valleys, soon having a nice flat field. I was going to pass this information on, but I could not see a single D8 Cat in the entire area.

Next — back to Hanoi for a couple of days, our final days in Vietnam, and then over to Bangkok.

Hue, on the Perfume River

Took a bus from Hoi An to Hue, which was the old capital of Vietnam during the Nguyen dynasty. Now this was the touristy bus, and even had some sleepy type accommodation for the weary traveler. The alternative bus travel would be the chicken bus, which I believe, gives preference to families travelling with chickens or goats or maybe pot-bellied pigs.

 I’m glad that I wasn’t called upon to drive our bus, as only an individual raised in the environment, or perhaps someone with a death wish, would attempt the traffic. Arrived in good form at our “new” hotel, and wow it was actually new. Not only new, but very comfortable, and under forty bucks.

Other than the usual shopping type adventures, the big day market and the obligatory street vendors, the majority of our time was spent at the tourist haunts. Had a private boat trip on the Perfume River. Don’t ask how it got the name “perfume”. I was afraid to ask and we were there. Well, in fact, the river did not look all that bad. Much better than many of the rivers that we have encountered. Now back to my story. We travelled up river for about an hour to visit a Buddhist temple and pagoda. There is a difference between temples and pagodas, but I am uncertain what is what. The pagoda here was several stories tall and had many roofs, more in the tradition of Chinese construction. Considering that the Chinese spent several hundred years trying to gain control of much of this area, I guess the construction is not that surprising. The event that sort of put this temple on the map happened in 1963, and those of you approaching senility along with the rest of us may recall the event. As a protest against religious suppression, one of the monks drove himself down to Saigon in the communal car. Upon his arrival, he exited the vehicle and sat down in the street, dowsed himself with gasoline and became a crispy critter. His memory is held with some reverence, and the old car is on display at the temple. From the temple, we returned downstream to see a small, floating, fishing village. It is more like a large cluster of semi derelict boats that never leave their moorings. People live aboard, and fish from the deck. They are able to catch skanky little fish for food and profit. Very little profit methinks, as no one appears to be moving up in the world. Our boat then took us back to our area and dropped us off. About four hours all told, and about twenty-five bucks. Heck, I think that it costs me that much to just flash up the engines in good old “Tawny Port”.

A new day, a new tour — we get a view of the Citadel.  The Citadel was built along the lines of “the old city” in Chiang Mai, but is newer, and in much finer condition. It is comprised of an outer wall made of bricks, and is some 17 kms long, having fortified gates every kilometer. The actual citadel is another walled enclosure, inside the larger compound. This enclosure, also made of brick, is surrounded by a man made moat. The citadel was for the ruling monarch. The area between the moat and the larger compound was for the minions, the military and the buddies of the ruler. They could live in this area, which offered considerably more safety than that afforded the mere mortals outside the walls, not to mention a rather good buffer zone for the ruler. The entire structure is very complete, and even suffered minimal damage during the Vietnam War.

Next leg Sapa, nosebleed country, and the highest in Vietnam.

Hoi An – a slower pace

Flew from Nha Trang to Danang, where we were met by a car and driver to take us to our new hotel. It is about a 45 minute ride from Danang to Hoi An, and I guess that when you spend the big bucks for your accommodation (35 big ones), you can expect this type of service. One small downside – I think that they shipped the mattress from the Green Hotel to our new digs. Actually managed a reasonable sleep in spite of the “super, extra firmness”. Does this mean that I am going native?

Liked Hoi An a lot. A much smaller community with a much slower pace, Hoi An is situated about 4kms from China Beach, and if you are looking for endless miles of white sand, you can find it here. The town, itself, is situated on the banks of the Thu Bon River, near where it empties into the South China Sea. It has remained active, as an important trading seaport, from about the 2^nd century, and there are a number of structures that date back three or four hundred years. This activity from world traders of the day, helped to develop skilled artisans in pottery, silks, weaving and wood carving, and the “old town”, with its narrow, twisty streets, has many shops displaying these wares. There is also no shortage of good eateries, and a market with fresh fruits and vegetables. I have become a big fan of a local orange, which should really be called a green. It has a skin of forest green color, and a flesh of bright orange. It is also very tasty, and very juicy — what’s not to like?

Local artisans of a more contemporary nature would have to include the tailors. Hoi An is filled with shops that will, for a very small fee, make you a shirt, trousers, a suit or dress, and have it completed in as little as four hours. There are stacks of different materials, in most any color, available for your choosing. I personally took a pass on this as tailor made blue jeans just don’t cut it, but Bonnie managed to find a desirable item or two. Darn, found another silk embroidery facility with yet another must-have picture. We are definitely going to have to try and avoid these places. It is amazing work though.

Because of its situation as a trading center, Hoi An has a strong representation of other nationalities such as Japanese and Chinese, and was the site of the first Chinese community in Vietnam. The outside influence is quite apparent in the architecture, from temples and bridges, to private homes. We toured through a private home that has been owned by the same family for six generations, over three hundred years. In actual fact, this house has been home to eight generations, as the daughter and granddaughter of the current owner, also live there. Of course, all these buildings were built along the river, and as a result flood every year in October or November. This will place a watermark four or five feet up the walls, but they take this all in stride. They merely move everything to the upper floors and settle in for four or five days. As the buildings are mostly built of brick, they seem to withstand this attack, as they have for hundreds of years.

We took a tour out to the Champa (Cham) temples just before we travelled on to Hue. These temples are situated at a place called My Son, and were the most important religious and intellectual center of its day. The Champa actually originated in central Vietnam, but trade with India converted them to the Hindu faith. They then spread their religion to the areas in which they lived. As their territory expanded during the second to fifteenth century, their religious inclination shifted to Buddhism, and now the descendants of the Cham Empire have to south Vietnam and to Indonesia, and have since become Muslims. Nothing remains the same. The temples at My Son were rediscovered by the French military in 1885 as the area was overgrown by the jungle, and the French army stumbled upon it by accident, while on patrol. They immediately started to plunder the ruins, and sent the artifacts back to France to display in their museums. My Son also suffered considerable damage from bombing by the American forces, during the Vietnamese war. It has since been established as a Unesco World Heritage sight, and restoration is currently being undertaken.

Next stop, Hue, the ancient capital of Vietnam —

The Riviera, Vietnamese Style

Nha Trang, Mediterranean north, the beach area of Vietnam. An area of blue-green water and white sand. Gentle waves from the Pacific break along the shore, building in the heat of the day then lying down as the sun lowers in the sky. Like the rest of us, energy spent — a time to relax. This is more like the Vietnam we had hoped for. Well, with the exception of our room that is. We are booked into the Green Hotel, a new structure of some sixty rooms, air conditioning, Internet, etc. etc Now the “Green” in Green Hotel, has nothing to do with its desire to save the planet or anything, it is the colour. Light greens, dark greens, bright greens, and soft greens. It feels as though we are being swallowed by Kermit the frog. At a guess, I believe that it may well have been new in the late nineties, plus they have the original mattresses on the beds. The reason that they have stood up this well is that they were made by Goodyear, as conveyor belts. Not a formula for a memorable sleep. We spent the remainder of the day looking for new lodgings. Hey, when you are spending $35. per diem, you do expect some luxury. Managed to find one with a bed that we could actually sleep in, closer to the beach as well.

In celebration of our successful hunt, we decided to have a real sit down meal. You can eat all the “chicken –on-a-stick” and grilled corn on the cob that you could ever want from the street vendors, but a “sit-down” is a nice change. From one of the locals, we got the names of a couple of restaurants serving good Vietnamese food, settling for the one closest to us.  A rather nice establishment, opening on to the street. Oh! A small word of advice, — don’t sit next to the street as you are within verbal reach of the beggars and peddlers. Anyway, we bypassed such old family favorites as “fresh field mouse” and “lightly cooked frog”, and went with the noodles. You can’t go wrong with the noodles, and they were also very good — as was the remaining several courses of our dinner.

The restaurant must be the gathering spot for the foreign crowd, as in addition to the group from Mother Russia; there was also an impressive representation from Scotland. The odd part of this last group was the numbers present who were named Glen. As the evening wore on, it became easier to just call them by their last name, Livet, Fiddich and Morangie. A lively discussion took place, generally filled with wisdom, and at times the conversation bordered upon absolute brilliance, but the  night wears on, and our bed calls out to us.

Not a great deal to see in Nha Trang, from a historic viewpoint, but the weather is not quite as hot, and the beach is great. We did do a bit of a temple tour, one from the days of the Cham (or Champa) rule, and a Catholic church from the days of the French rule — both still in use. And yes, there was the obligatory market for “just a souvenir or two”, as well as a shiny new backpack for the luggage overflow. We only travel light sporadically, as we ship boxes of extra back home to Canada. On the down side, this now makes room for new purchases — oh well. Also picked up a new embroidered silk picture, our second of the trip. Have to avoid those galleries.

Next to Hoi An —

Ho Chi Minh City, or to us ancients, Saigon

Fortunately Andrew Lloyd Webber was in his musical frenzy some years back, as Miss Ho Chi Minh City doesn’t have the same artistic ring as Miss Saigon. One of the things that the communists did after gaining control of the country was to rename the capital of South Vietnam, which they did in honor of their exalted leader.

We actually called it many other names before we left. It started with our trip from the airport to our hotel in the centre of the city. Being generally stupid, we ended up paying about double what we should have, which is an ulcer builder until you realize that we are not talking a kings ransom here. The amazing part is the number of motorbikes you must avoid. They claim to have about 8 million people in HCMC, and about 4 million motorbikes. I believe that they all run about the streets twenty-four seven. It is just like someone kicked the top off an anthill, there are bikes going in all directions. Now you also have trucks taxis and motorcars vying for space on the roadways, and people playing Russian roulette by trying to cross the streets.

My exalted shopping leader and I decided to make our way to a market place, and on our way encountered a local with his uptown rickshaw. He convinced us that this was the way to travel to the market, but as this vehicle was only designed to carry one, he quickly called up his good friend so that we could both ride in style. Now let me describe this chariot. If you were to take a stroller, designed for quite a hefty child, and weld it to the front of a very old bicycle, you would get the picture. It is actually called a xe om.

Fearlessly we hurl ourselves into the flow of traffic in our quest for the market. Well not fearlessly, really, as I suspect that my “white as a sheet” countenance was only over shadowed by Bonnie’s look of utter terror. It was then that I realized that my driver was entitled to show no fear, as he had an air bag in front of him — me. I had only feet ahead of me, and they were my own. In spite of all this we made it to the market unscathed, and our trusty drivers insisted that it would be absolutely no problem to wait for us and return us to our hotel. Oh lucky us.

The market was very nearly as congested as the streets, and in short order we returned to the street for our return trip, and true to his word, there was our driver and his trusty sidekick. The fact that he would not take payment for the trip to the market may also have had some bearing on their patience. Into the traffic we venture once again, and once again we arrive at our destination intact — miracles of miracles. Time to settle our account. There I was, in the centre of Ho Chi Minh City, with my Dong in my hand, when it was brought to my attention that I was somewhat short of Dong. There was perhaps enough Dong to satisfy myself, but hardly enough to satisfy Bonnie. Oh what to do at this late stage in life, but then it came to me — I could try American bucks. This appeared to satisfy all concerned, until my driver grabbed what he could, to share with he and his friend. There I was, short again. Lesson learned — don’t take the rickshaw type thingies anywhere, and make certain that you have sufficient Dong for all occasions. I suspect that he was able to buy the new luxury, Lexus-type xe om with his new found wealth.

We were beginning to feel a bit pouty-faced about Vietnam in general, and HCMC in particular, when Bonnie managed to find a store that carried embroidered silk pictures. Rather spectacular items that are embroidered by women in Dalat. The process that is used was first developed in Hue. Both cities are in central Vietnam. Now these skilled women embroider the most incredible pictures on silk cloth, with the finest of silk threads. There are pictures in an Oriental style, scenes of forests, flowers, fish and other fauna, as well as portraits. Of all the women who do this embroidery, there are apparently only about thirty who do the portraits, as this takes a special skill that not all have. We, of course picked up a portrait, as they were not only something to behold, they were also more expensive. We must uphold our image, and we can now say “adieu” to Saigon, with a better feeling.

Had a bit of a touchy feely type moment on the streets of Saigon. Athlete that I am, I was out by my own self, striding down the sidewalks of town, when an elderly dude (about my age), reached over and patted me on the shoulder as we were passing. Startled, I glanced in his direction, at which time he said “thank you”, snapped off a smart salute and carried on his way. He was long gone by the time I realized that he had probably assumed me to be a returning US veteran, and he was one of those left behind. It is gratifying to know that there are still those in Vietnam who appreciated the efforts and sacrifices of the US military, even from an unpopular war.

Took a tour from HCMC to the Cao Dei temple and the Chu Chi tunnels. Interesting, but different. It seem that back in the 30’s an individual, well actually 8 individuals, decided to establish a new religious group. I suspect that this was due to a strong desire for a better afterlife, but a total uncertainty of which religion had the best possibility for success. Their solution was to throw a little bit of several religions into one basket and, I suspect, hope for the best. Thus there are bits of the Catholic and Protestant religions, Buddhism and Islam faiths, and a little Taoist and Confucian beliefs as well. Now the temple structure was built on the lines of a Buddhist temple, but was much more colorful. I do suspect that the color co-coordinator from their interior design team was a tad light in his flip-flops, as he was very strong on baby blues, soft yellows and pinks. He loved pinks., and used them with total abandon, on both the exterior and interior. The interior of the temple was pretty much devoid of furnishings, with the exception of eight chairs, (more like thrones) for the eight founders. The most elevated chair was for the Pope, no — not that other guy, their own Pope. The lesser chairs are for Archbishops, Bishops, Cardinals etc. The faithful of the Cao Dei religion can attend service 4 times daily and must be vegetarians for 10 days per month. Those holding office must be veggies twenty-four seven. As those who founded the religion and held the positions of authority have long since passed on to wherever they were destined, the chairs now stand empty. They can be filled, but get this, it is done via a séance and with the assistance of an Ouija board. The communist government won’t, at present, authorize a séance, and so they remain unfulfilled. Bonnie and I didn’t sign up as it seemed a bit too Branch Dravidian and Wacky, Texas. Oops, sorry, that should read Waco, Texas.

Apparently the following has grown to some four million faithful, and in addition to the some four hundred temples in South Vietnam, there is a temple in Australia and two in California. California, you say — go figure!!

The Chu Chi tunnels were a different matter. In the heart of farming country, a village with communist leanings, was drawn into the conflict It appears as though the VC, the Chinese communists and Mother Russia, offered little support other than doctrine. To protect themselves from the defoliants and Napalm, the villagers built a labyrinth of tunnels and bunkers. These were built primarily at night, and the removed dirt was spread throughout the rice paddies. These tunnels interconnected with underground field hospitals, command centers, mess halls and barracks, and encompassed several levels. To assist in protecting this environment, they built numerous traps, in an effort to kill the soldiers from the south, particularly those soldiers wearing the uniforms of the US military. The tunnels themselves were very small, as for the most part Vietnamese are not noted for their large stature, and the lack of rice during the war years did nothing to add to their size. This was to their advantage, as the US soldier was better fed and bigger in stature, had difficulty in going through the small passages.

For the benefit of the tourist, some of the tunnels have been increased twofold. Twice as high and twice as wide, and even yet, in a squat, my shoulders still brushed both sides. Bonnie went through about fifty feet of this before claustrophobia really took hold, and after about 150 feet, I too, made my way to an exit. A “tunnel-rat” I ain’t.

It is back to Saigon ,and preparation for our next journey, a flight to Nha Trang, the beach area of Vietnam.

Keep tuned, and take care –

T

KHMER ROUGE

From the ancient grandeur of the Ankor area, Cambodia is now a country of relative poverty. This was aggravated by the despotic leader and the Khmer Rouge, who plundered and murdered their way through the countryside in the latter days of the Vietnam war. Pol Pot, who was educated in France, led the Khmer Rouge on a killing spree that exterminated some two million Cambodian peoples, about twenty-five percent of the entire population. As Pol Pot had the support of the communists in both North Vietnam and the USSR, it took the support of the South Vietnamese military and the US forces to defeat this aggression. At the close of WW11, we swore that the type of genocide experienced during the holocaust should never be repeated, and yet we have Cambodia, Bosnia, Uganda, Rwanda, and who knows how many others. Man’s inhumanity to man.

Although the Cambodian situation took place nearly forty years ago, the consequences are still felt on a daily basis. As the Khmer Rouge plundered the land, they also littered the countryside with land mines. This was done without mapping the areas. The US air force also dropped thousands of miniature anti personnel devices from the air, which littered the target areas with no way of mapping. Add to this mix tons of unexploded ordinance, and you have a cocktail for disaster.

It is quite common to see peasants missing limbs that were lost to unexpected mines as they tried to plant their crops, but the real sadness lies with the children. Because of the overall poverty, children scrounge about the battlefields looking for brass shell casings that can be sold for scrap, and they too find the minefields. Because it was more expensive and time consuming to attend to the injured, anti personnel mines were designed to maim, rather than kill, and they did it very well. Many of the countries young are missing limbs, hands, feet or both. As if it is not difficult to exist with a body intact. Even with all of this, there is a sense of happiness for the little that they do have, and a smile is available, for free, to all who will accept it.

It is estimated that it will take approximately an additional 100 years to remove the remaining unexploded munitions. The leaders of the Khmer Rouge are only now being tried for their crimes against humanity.

On to Vietnam.

T