I want to introduce you to someone I think you’ll really like. I have high hopes that you two will hit it off, and maybe even form a loving, long-term relationship.
 
No, this isn’t like the time you tried to set your Ate up on a date with Boboy from the barangay basketball team. Today, I want to introduce my Filipino traveler friends to the wonderful country of Cambodia.
 
Easily accessible from Manila, inexpensive, safe, and FUN, you'll find the Kingdom of Cambodia to be like your 7,500-island nation in some ways but so different in most. ("Same, same, but different," as they say.) In fact, if you added up landmass of the Visayas and Luzon, it would be about as big as Cambodia. However, there are only 15+ million people in the whole country of Cambodia, while Manila alone has more residents than that! Whoa! You'll also learn that the people and culture are called Khmer, not “Cambodian,” and the country has the longest standing leader in all of Asia, Prime Minister Hun Sen.

​It also has a unique history, from one of the most impressive ancient civilizations in the world to French colonialism and then the tragic, dark period of the Khmer Rouge. But today, Cambodia is awake, alive, and full of amazing things to do and see – and waiting for you! 
 
I’ll give you 10 reasons why Filipinos will love to visit Cambodia here, but I also encourage you to email me with any questions.

Getting there and around is easy
Filipinos will find that it’s easy to get to Cambodia. In fact, CebuPacific offers nonstop flights leaving Manila and touching down in Siem Reap, Cambodia that only take 2 hours and 55 minutes, saving you a whole lot of time and aggravation by avoiding connecting flights and layovers. The best part is that it costs less than 5,000 Pesos each way! That's about the same as Manila to Dumaguete, Coron, or Caticlan - not bad for an international direct flight, Coron, or Caticlan.!
 
Once you're in Siem Reap, getting around is effortless with charming tuk-tuks you can ride around for 100 Pesos or so, or you can rent a motorbike or bicycle to tour around.
 
If you have more than a few days, you can easily take the bus or van (5-6 hours/250 Pesos – 500 Pesos) to the dynamic and charming capital city, Phnom Penh. (Yes, they have night buses so you can wake up in your destination and save the cost of a hotel room for one night!)
 
Since Cambodia is wedged between its Southeast Asian neighbors, you can also take a bus or van to Thailand or Vietnam for intrepid travelers.

​Angkor Wat in Siem Reap
The highlight of any trip to Cambodia, Angkor Wat is the largest religious site on earth and a UNESCO World Heritage Site (although not a Wonder of the World – yet!). Construction started on this massive temple complex in the 12th century as a Hindu religious monument, although it later transitioned to Buddhist use. Today, you can witness the sheer magnitude and magnificent splendor of Angkor Wat and nearby temples, including Ta Prohm temple that you might remember from the movie Lara Croft, Tomb Raider with Angelina Jolie. You can purchase a one-day pass, three-day pass or week-long pass to enter the temple grounds and cruise around as much as you like, so bring comfortable walking shoes, your sunblock, and your selfie stick because you’re in for a crazy adventure! 

​Cambodia is inexpensive!
Filipinos will be delighted to find that Cambodia is still very affordable (it’s probably cheaper than traveling around the Philippines!). You can still get a great 4-star hotel with a pool and breakfast for around 1,300-1,500 Pesos a night, and there is an abundance of clean and safe hostels, guesthouses, and accommodations for as low as 150 Pesos per night! You can also find delicious food that’s inexpensive everywhere in Cambodia.
 
The Angkor Wat temple complex – the main attraction in Siem Reap – does cost 1,850 Pesos for a day pass, but you can use that to explore multiple temples in the same area. From dawn until sundown, you'll see some of the most amazingly beautiful temples in the world, taking enough selfies, groupies, and jump shots to last a lifetime!

​Yummm...the food!
I know that you love to eat! But since mealtime (otherwise known as "all the time") is about trying new, exciting dishes and making memories with friends and family, you'll love the food in Cambodia. In fact, you'll find the best of Thai, Vietnamese, Chinese, French, European, Western, Indian, and, of course, Khmer food. You'll also be blown away by how many funky, creative, and fun cafes, restaurants, bars, and street food choices there are. By the way, you can try spider, snake, or even insects in Cambodia! Who's brave enough to take a bite?

Incredible natural beauty
The Kingdom of Cambodia may be right next door to the Philippines, but it looks so different that it might as well be another planet. Mostly landlocked (except for coastal areas in the south), life in Cambodia is centered around the colossal Lake Tonle Sap and the rivers that feed it, like the mighty Mekong.
 
However, some things will look familiar – regal palm trees, sprawling rice fields, and the endless sun-kissed beauty of “the province.” But you’ll also find floating villages of boat people, tropical jungle, rivers to play in, butterfly farms, pepper plantations, dusty villages with friendly locals, and breathtaking Bokor Mountain and National Park.
 
If you make it south to Phnom Penh, consider another 3-4 hour bus/van ride (that’s nothing for eager Filipino travelers!) to the charmingly surreal river town of Kampot or the super-chill coastal enclave of Kep, where you can lay in a hammock and eat fresh seafood to your heart's content. I really think you’ll love those places.
 
One thing I haven't mentioned much is Sihanoukville (the name of their former King) in the south of the country. While it's a hot spot for backpackers and travelers, I don't suggest it for Filipinos. It takes about 6 hours to get there from Phnom Penh (and takes you even further away from your flight out of Siem Reap), and it's attracted a sleazy, unsafe element. While nearby Koh Rong Island is beautiful, you have far more (and better) islands back home. So my recommendation is to come to Cambodia for the culture, temples, and exploring the main city, but skip Sihanoukville.)

A dark and storied history
Wow, where do I even begin? I can write ten blogs on the history of Cambodia, but suffice to say this – the modern developing nation you see today has one of the richest, most ancient, and interesting histories of any country in Asia. However, Cambodia was also home to one of the worst genocides in human history, with the Khmer Rouge killing almost a quarter of the total population of their own country in the months between 1975 and 1978.
 
History buffs will experience all of that – pride in their ancient civilization, the surprisingly-European influence in art, architecture, food and culture from French colonialism, scars from the Khmer Rouge’s atrocities, and today’s hopes to heal and build a modern society. 

Filipino tourists don’t even need a visa to visit Cambodia!
I know the process of applying for a visa can be long, expensive, and frustrating for Filipinos. But here's some amazing news, straight from the TourismCambodia.com website:

Visa Exemption
The nationals of the Laos, Malaysia, Philippines, Singapore, Vietnam, Thailand, Indonesia, Brunei Darussalam, Myanmar do not need a tourist visa and may stay in Cambodia for 21 and 30 days respectively.

Experience Buddhism
While the majority of people in the Philippines are Roman Catholic and Christian, Cambodia is predominantly Buddhist. Filipinos will be delighted to experience such a cultural, historical, and yes, religious contrast. You'll find that Buddhism, its temples (Wats), and its people, very welcoming. From Angkor Wat to the temples and pagodas around the picturesque royal palace in Phnom Penh to gonzo celebrations like the water festivities for Khmer New Year, Filipinos will love being immersed in a Buddhist society. 

Plenty of pasalubong to take home
Everywhere you go in Siem Reap or Phnom Penh, you’ll find stalls, stores, and night markets selling t-shirts, wood carvings, handmade jewelry, local art and crafts, designer brand (knock-off) clothes and purses, hats, refrigerator magnets, postcards, silks and other exotic fabrics, spices, and just about every other gift you can imagine. For 1,000 Pesos and some smooth-tongued haggling, you'll return home with a backpack full of pasalubong that will even make your sometimes-complaining  (and still single) Ate happy! ​

Connect with great people
My Pinoy friends will have one frustration in Cambodia, as people come up to them on the street and start speaking Khmer all the time, thinking they are from Cambodia. But the good news is that people are generally friendly, happy, and open to foreigners in Cambodia. Of course, English isn't their native tongue, but anyone that works in tourism will speak enough English to get by and interact, and you'd be surprised how fast the younger generation (like kids on the street) are learning it.
 
Likewise, you'll meet some AMAZING fellow travelers from all over the world while you're in Cambodia, making new friends for life who might even invite you to their home countries.
 
I’ve found that in some places (like Thailand, etc.) the country is beautiful but I leave feeling like I’ve lacked a meaningful connection to the country and its people. But in Cambodia, there are endless opportunities for an authentic human bond and even friendships, enriching both of your lives.

My favorite thing to do when I visit Cambodia is get involved with local charities. I have a few that I REALLY trust, believe in, and have been helping for years, like the Children’s Improvement Organization orphanage in Siem Reap and the Connecting Hands Training Café in Phnom Penh. But be careful – you’ll fall in love with the kids and these people and not want to leave!

​***
 
For these 10 reasons, I promise you that Cambodia will remain in your heart long after the stamp in your passport fades!
​
 
-Norm  :-)
 
Disclaimer: I am not Filipino, but please don’t hold that against me – nobody’s perfect! 

​An easy ride to school every morning for our kids is something that we often take for granted, but many children in poor nations around the world don't have the same luxury. In fact, there are about 60 million kids around the globe that don't get to attend school at all every year, and many more drop out after only a few years.

The challenges are often economic, as families need their children working to feed everyone or can't afford books, tuition, and school clothes, etc., but sometimes, geography gets in the way, too. According to UNESCO, children living in a rural environment are twice as likely to be out of school than urban children, and when you add in jagged mountains, isolated valleys, raging rivers, and flooding in the monsoon season, it can be almost impossible for some kids to get to school.

ALMOST impossible. As they 25 examples in photos will demonstrate, some kids will do just about anything to get to school, risking their very lives just to get an education because they know it's their only chance at a better life.

We can all draw inspiration from their sacrifice and dedication, and the next time your kids complain about getting on the school bus, just show them this blog!

With love,
Norm  :-)

PS Contact me if you're interested in helping kids like these and others around the world get an education. 

​These kids have a perilous journey to the remote school in the world in Gulu, China, following a 1-foot wide path for five hours through the mountains just for the opportunity to learn.

​When the Ulnas River in Western India floods every monsoon season, some school kids need to walk a tightrope to get to the other bank of the river and on  to school while other ingenious scholars get creative with their transportation!

​There are no school buses in this rural province in Myanmar, so this resourceful girl hitches a ride on a bull to get to her classroom every morning!

​In Nepal, the mountainous landscape makes travel difficult, or sometimes impossible. But undeterred, these school kids ride a sitting zip line over a river to school every day.

This Palestinian girl lives in a refugee camp in Shuafat, near Jerusalem, and when Israeli forces clash with Palestinians in the streets, she has to walk right through them to get to school.

In Lebak, Indonesia, school children can either walk four hours out of their way or take their chances crossing the river on an old suspension bridge that’s literally falling apart.

A chance to go to school is worth a wild ride outside Bogota, Columbia, as these youngsters have to cross the raging Rio Negro River on a half-mile steel cable high above the waters. Attached by a pulley, she travels at up to 50 mph for a minute and can only slow down using this tree branch as a brake! Even crazier, she’s actually carrying her younger brother in the sack!

In the rainy season in Rizal Province, Philippines, youngsters in search of knowledge take a ride across the river on inflated inner tubes every day. 

These kids have to traverse these treacherous mountains for 125 miles to get to their boarding school Pili, China every term. With the help of the headmaster, the journey takes two days and includes wading through four freezing rivers, crossing a 650 ft chain bridge and four single-plank bridges. 

It takes a lot of focus to keep their bicycle from falling off this foot-wide plank bridge in Java, Indonesia, but it’s a shortcut that saves at least 4 miles on the way to school every day.

With the help of their teacher, these schoolgirls get across the wall of the 16th century Galle Fort in Sri Lanka on a flimsy wooden plank.

To get from their remote island to the nearest school on the mainland in Pangururan, Indonesia, these children pile onto the roof of this boat every morning and afternoon.

Likewise, these kids in beautiful and lush Kerala, India ride to school in a wooden boat every day.

When the bridge over the Ciherang River in Indonesia went out during flooding a few years ago, the village children had no way to get across and attend school…until they started floating to the other shore daily on makeshift bamboo rafts. 

But these elementary school students in Vietnam don’t even have a raft to cross the river to their schoolroom, so twice a day they take off their school clothes, putting them in a bag to try and keep them dry, and swim across the deep rapids.

The region around the village of Mawsynram in India is one of the wettest places on earth, with an average of 467 inches of rain each year. Due to the high precipitation and humidity, wood bridges will rot quickly, but the locals have trained the roots of these rubber trees to join and grow over the river, forming a natural and safe living bridge for the kids to cross to school every day. 

These pupils have a beautiful but difficult canoe ride every morning through the mangrove swamps o to their school in Riau, Indonesia. 

It takes the 20 intrepid pupils of Batu Busuk Village in Sumatra, Indonesia hours hours to walk the seven mile route to school, culminating with a dodgy tightrope traverse 30 feet over the river.

These kids from Zhang Jiawan Village in Southern China have to climb hundreds of feet up a sheer cliff on these dangerous unsecured ladders to get to their classroom.

Crossing this dilapidated and icy bridge in Dujiangyan, Sichuan Province, China, this mother and daughter risk their lives for her education.

A ride to school is a precious thing since it helps avoid a long, hot walk, so these well-dressed scholars pack onto a horse cart in Delhi, India. 

During the monsoon season in many Southeast Asian countries like Cambodia, the rains flood the countryside and city alike, often cancelling classes if kids can’t find a way to wade, swim, float, or boat to their school.

Floods won’t even stop the children from bicycling to school, though it’s dangerous because they have no idea where the road is beneath the waters.

At that point, getting the young ones safely to school could be a whole family affair. They'll do anything to give their children a better life!

Watch me eat these beetles, crickets, roaches, frogs, larvae, and a bunch of unidentifiable critters from a street stall in Phnom Penh, Cambodia - all for a good cause to raise money for several amazing charities! 

If you got a kick out of this video PLEASE consider donating $100, $25, or even $10 to the charities I introduce below, Connecting Hands, Willow Tree Roots, and the Children's Improvement Organization. These are all charities I personally help out and see first hand the work they do to better a lot of lives.

Thanks - and get ready to be grossed out!

-Norm  :-)

To donate, just click on the PayPal link below and tell me which charity you'd like to help.
​It's quick, easy, safe, and I'll make sure the money gets to the appropriate charity and you get a receipt.
​

​This is Chan Rathana, my boxing and marital arts teacher here in Cambodia. He just did something that takes a whole lot of guts – stepping into the octagon to fight another man in a MMA bout - and ended up with the glory. Only 36 hours before this photo was taken, Rathana did battle with fellow Cambodian countrymen Samang “Ironfist” Dun, beating him when he landed a couple of sizzling punches at the very end of the first round.
 
That was on Saturday night, in front of thousands at a very well organized and run One FC sanctioned MMA match at Naga World in Phnom Penh, the capital city of Cambodia. On Monday when I took this photo, Rathana was already back to work, training foreign and Khmer beginners at his art, a little more subdued than normal and with a nice bruise on his check but no worse for wear. With a work ethic like that, it’s no wonder why we won.

​Rathana is the owner and teacher at Selapak, a cultural center in the heart of Phnom Penh. Next door to Selapak is a rowdy Irish bar that often spills over, downstairs a space to teach traditional Khmer dance, and upstairs, the gym. It’s ridiculously small by western standards, really the long, narrow upstairs room of an apartment with a high ceiling; two heavy bags swinging, a shoebox ring where you are always in kicking distance of your opponent, and a big mirror along one side of the matts, which have sporadic hidden trapdoors where it is only bar concrete and an occasional metal anchor where you can catch your foot if you’re not careful. There is no AC in the stifling heat, a couple of ceiling fans whirling and the back door of the apartment – I mean, gym – opening up to a tiny balcony.
 
Selapak sees a steady stream of people training in Khun Khmer, or traditional Cambodian kick boxing, every evening at 6 and then 7 pm; Britts, Italians, a ton of Frenchmen (who add their own distinct cultural scent to the mix,) and a few young Cambodians looking to impress Rathana.

​I started training here (and I use the word ‘training’ loosely) a couple of years ago when I lived in a rat hole apartment across the street. Since then, I’ve moved to nicer quarters, and even trained privately with a different instructor for all of last year, but even then, I had no idea he was a professional fighter in the international ranks.
 
His fight this past Saturday was a chance to avenge his only professional loss, a controversial decision given to Ironfist a year ago after Rathana stomped on his face. (Really, I didn’t know that kind of thing was discouraged?) My buddy Wicced who works for the Phnom Penh Post got us tickets, and when I showed up I had no idea Rathana was the main event. 

​To be honest, I had my doubts when the fight started as it looked like there was a lot more downstairs traditional dancing than upstairs fighting, but soon the fighters engaged with flurries of punches, lightning kicks, and grappling. Near the end of the first, Rathana found himself standing over Iron Fist, who threw a cobra-like straight kick at Rathana’s face from his prone position. The kick just barely and Rathana coiled, unloading a haymaker that traveled from his shoulder all the way down to Iron Fist’s head on the mat. He threw a couple other jarring shots before the ref jumped in to stop it.

​Rathana now has an impressive 4-1 record in the professional One FC ranks with wins abroad in Thailand and Malaysia, and listed on Sherdog. Bigger opportunities are sure to come. He may not be sitting on top of the world just yet, but he’s sure the pride of his family, his country, Selapak, and his little neighborhood gym where it all started.

​So when I brought in my Fuji instant camera and asked my friend Rathana to pose with his championship One FC trophies, these weird black brick looking things) he gladly obliged. But when I gave him the photo as a memento of his victory and asked him to hold it up, my voice still hoarse from cheering, he stood even taller.

-Norm  :-)

This is part of a series where I take approach a common but remarkable person in Cambodia and ask if I can take their photo. I do so but with a Fujifilm instant camera, so the photograph pops out and develops right on the spot. I then had them the photo, sometimes the only one they've ever owned. I then capture the moment by taking a digital photo of them holding their new gift.
 
You can search for more of these blogs by clicking on the 'Give A Photo' category to the right, or read more here: Can I Give You This Photo, Please? 

Last week in the Philippines, I was talking to a local friend over dinner. We got to talking about our families, and she told me this touching story about her childhood: 

“I grew up very fortunate, living in the countryside in the province. Our village was right on the side of a mountain and my dad was a miner so we did well. He made enough money that my mom could open up a little store and we had plenty to eat.

But others in the village were very poor. They’d come to my mom’s store and ask for a bag of rice or some medicine for their children, but they wouldn’t have enough money to pay.

“Please, I will pay you tomorrow,” they’d say, and she’d give it to them, even though she knew they couldn’t pay tomorrow, either. But she carried medicine at the store even though she made no money on it, and ay sundown when she heard the babies and children in the village crying from hunger, she’d always give out some rice. I had everything as a little girl, plenty of food and clothes and gold necklaces, and never had to be sent to the mountain to work like the other kids.

But when I was eight years old, things went bad when my father met another woman in our village. She was older than him and very rich, with many houses and gold since she owned the mine. They started having an affair, and soon my father left my mother. My mother was crushed, but I was too young to understand that my father wasn’t coming home anymore. I grew very sick with a broken heart.

My mother had no more money from his mining job. The store didn’t bring in much because she gave food to those who were hungry and medicine to those who were sick, even thought they could not pay. I grew even sicker and I stopped eating. I only wanted to see my daddy. For months, I didn’t eat anything but liquids and I grew so thin that even the doctors thought I would soon die. My mother tried to take me to more doctors and buy me medicine, but she had no money. And there was no medicine for my broken heart. My mother sold everything in the store and then the store itself and started selling our furniture just to keep our house and enough food. But I did not eat. I only watched the window every day, lying on my bamboo matt on the floor because I was too weak and sick to even sit up, waiting for my father to come home. There was nothing more my mother could do because I refused to ear, and she was heartbroken, herself.

The rich older woman was in love with my father, and wanted him to come to the big city. She had a beautiful house there where they could live with servants and always be comfortable and he would never have to work again. He agreed, and they took their things and went to the bus station to travel to the city.

But once they got there, he couldn’t stop thinking of his children and his family. Their bus was leaving soon so he told the rich woman that he had to go to the bathroom. He left her side and all of his suitcases but instead of going to the bathroom, he went to the ticket counter and bought a ticket for the next bus back toward our village. He never went back to her, but got on the bus and left.

I was so sick that there was nothing anyone could do and my mother was waiting for me to die, but I wouldn’t eat. I had such a bad fever sometimes that I would say crazy things and see things that weren’t there. Sometimes I’d call out to my father. My mother had no choice but to ignore me after a while.

But one afternoon, I thought saw someone walking on the long dirt road that ran into our village from the main road, where the buses ran. I was dizzy with fever but I thought I saw a man walking towards us. I knew I was sick so I thought I must be seeing crazy things again, because it looked like my father. But I watched him walking, and even thought he was still far off, I could tell it was my father.

I cried out to my mother that my father was walking home, but she dismissed me as having feverish dreams once again and went back to doing the wash. I called out again when he was closer, but my mother just swept the floor. Finally, when he was so close that I could see his face and I knew it was actually my father and not a dream, I cried out to my mother again.

My mother turned around and dropped her broom with what she saw. It was him.

He walked up to the home and came inside. He saw that there was no furniture and his daughter was very skinny on the floor. He hugged me first.

“Is everything Ok?” he asked my mother.

“No, everything is not ok,” my mother said. “We have no food or medicine and our daughter is very sick. She hasn’t been able to eat rice or solid food in months. She just drinks. She is going to die and the doctors don’t know what it is.”

He hugged me again, and then hugged my mother. He apologized and she hugged him back and they both cried, because she knew he was home for good and her heart opened up to him again.

“Mommy,” I said. “Can I have some rice? I am hungry.””

My friend told me that she ate well from that day on, and grew healthy again. Her father moved back in and her mother forgave him. He tried to go back to work but he couldn’t work in the mine again, and they didn’t have money to open the store, so they were poor. But the people in the village remembered that the family had been good to them and shared what they had. Things were not easy, but somehow, there was always enough.

Her father and mother never left each other’s side again, and lived the rest of their many years together until he passed away around Christmas, the year before. 

"Hi Norm. I saw your photos and read your blog about helping the children in Cambodia. I know we've never met, but I'd like to send you some money to give to them, too."

You'd be amazed how often I get Facebook messages or emails along those lines. Hell, I'm still amazed every time someone reaches out to me and wants to give. I mean, since my focus the last couple of years has been on trying to make this world just a tiny bit better through my writing, I've received so much support from my friends it's crazy.

I guess "crazy" is a good word for it, for what else could you call sending your hard-earned dollars all the way across the world to come to the aid of people you've never met in countries you'll never set foot in? And many of you have never even met me, the instigator of this whole experience. Sure, I've broken bread (and drank beer) with many of you, but some are friends of friends, have read my books or blogs, or we don't even remember how we first connected, but we've never had the pleasure to say hi face-to-face. For all you know, I could be squandering your money by dining on escargot with champagne every night, staying at resorts that have 1,000,000 thread-count sheets, and purchasing luxurious hair care products...ok, the hair care product part is off the table, but you know what I mean.

Either way, you're trusting ME with your money because you care so much about perfect strangers in need. You have empathy for those you can't see or touch, and that's a rare and beautiful thing. Believe me, I treasure that trust and try to live up to it every day. 

Last week, I posted some photos of a poor hospital I visited here in Phnom Penh, the capital city of Cambodia, where I went with my friend-in-charity Cowboy Bart to help a young woman who was the victim of an acid attack, and others. Tragically, she passed away in the ICU the very next day, but the photos and blog stirred a handful of you to reach out and PayPal some donations over for me to distribute to others in need.

So back at it, Cowboy Bart and I rode a tuk tuk out to the Soviet Friendship Hospital in Phnom Penh on a scorching Friday afternoon. I was armed with a pocket full of $10 and $20 bills to give out to people I found in need, with the help of Siman - our Cambodian tuk tuk driver - acting as translator. 

In desperately poor Cambodia, there is no free healthcare or any sort of governmental social safety net. Hospitals are archaic, ridiculously understaffed, and they lack even many of the basic resources, medicines, and technology even the most humble hospitals in the United States enjoy. I'm sure you can guess who built the Soviet Friendship Hospital, a monstrous boxy compound with open-air buildings around an overgrown grassy area. When someone gets sick and needs to go to the hospital, usually on a very long journey from far-off provinces on the public bus, their family needs to bring them there. Of course they can't afford a hotel while they wait out the treatment of their loved one, so the whole family moves into the hospital with the patient. 

Some of them sleep right outdoors in the bush, hoping for the shade of a palm tree. They cook their food over wood fires and hang their laundry their to dry. Many others share the hospital bed with their loved one, sleep on the floor on bamboo matts or on the bare floor near them, or camp out in the hallways and stairwells, for days, weeks, or even months. If they're lucky, they'll have enough food, though most drink dirty water out of the hose bib and live off of rice and slices of mango. A big 30 lbs. bacg of rice, which costs about $20, can keep a couple people alive for a month if need be. 

But they lit up when we walked in, eyes peeled and big smiles for the unheard of occurrence of a Barang (foreigner) coming into the hospital unless they worked for a nonprofit or were part of a medical mission. Bart and Siman visited with the toddler with eye cancer and talked to his mother. Bart remarked that the boy looked much better and the tumor had shrunk significantly. They gave them some money to help pay for food and the treatments they couldn't afford at the hospital. 

While they chatted, I walked around the room, saying hello and visiting with the other sick children in the room. Of course I couldn't communicate with them other than bowing and saying "sus-day" - hello in the Khmer (Cambodian) language - or "sok-sa-bay" - wishing them good health. But it's amazing how much you can say just with your eyes and smile and a well-timed thumbs-up.

As I met the other patients and their families in the big white room, I called Siman over to translate at times. No one was alone - everyone had family with them. I noticed that they didn't see it as a burden to help their sick loved ones. A daughters massaged her grandmother's back to ease her pain. Mothers fanned the flies away from their sleeping children. An elderly Khmer woman, nearly skeletal in her only outfit of pajamas, mustered unimaginable strength to tend to her dying husband of all these years.

Their custom is to take a photo of someone handing them the gift, so they started to sit up their sick and sleeping loved ones. But I told them to just let them be - it wasn't necessary for me to be in the photos. Let the children and sick and elderly, who could barely open their eyes to see us, sleep in peace.

And they are appreciative. The looks of gratitude on their faces will be with me forever. It wasn't just the money, though I know that completely changed their outlook. But there was another commodity, just as important, that were were sharing that day: hope. They knew someone cared about them. Incredibly wealthy and privileged strangers from a far-off heavenly country took the time to come say hello and help them. I've learned that to acknowledge someone as a human being, with respect and equality in your heart, is the biggest gift you can give. 

Stomach problems, children with cancerous tumors, accident victims, and so many more that were key diagnosed, who waited patiently sleeping in the halls and floors of the hospital waiting for a glimmer of hope. Folding leather stretchers - discarded donations from war times, and tolling medical trays stood sentry among the silent people, a few syringes, vials, and empty pill boxes the scattered evidence that there was little that could be done. 

There were many families and sick people who couldn't get a bed, a room, or even inside the cool hallways of the hospital to stay. They camped outside on the patio, the fiery afternoon sun beating down on them. A ingenious teen girl with a bright smile hung a bedsheets from an IV stand to shield her sister, who had been in a bad motorcycle accident in the province, from the heat. 

On our way out, we wandered through many wards of the hospital: those dedicated to those suffering from malnutrition, diarrhea, the ICU, and finally, a pleasant surprise - the neonatal unit. It was shocking that we could just walk in and there were not even glass barriers or germ-free sanitized environments to protect the premature babies. But their mothers stood watch over them,  loving for their newborns with visions of angelic perfection that only mothers can see. Each mother called us over with a big smile so she could proudly show off her baby.

But I reminded myself that these people had problems before I arrived and would have problems long after I left. And there were billions more I never could reach, even if I worked tirelessly the rest of my life. But these people weren't thinking of it like that. They weren't expecting anyone to solve their problems. The money I had given them - your donations - had made a huge difference for them today. The hungry would eat. They could pay for medicine. A doctor's visit. A needed bus ticket. Get a bed instead of the floor. Or buy a small fan.

It wasn't fixed; it wasn't right; it still didn't make sense; but it was better. Better. That's a good way of thinking of it. You, my friends, had made things better for these people, and that's a hell of a good thing. And if they could speak to you they would say, "Thank you." And you'd feel it even more than you heard it. Trust me on that. 

- Norm   :-)

Of course Jenny and Jenna were there to greet me with big smiles. Jenny, the younger sister, still had that wonderful smile on her face that lit up the world. And Jenna, more serious and stoic, was had grown a head taller and had turned into quite a strong soccer player. Sitha assured me that the girls had fit in and adjusted wonderfully in the year since they’d been placed in the orphanage and I last visited. They were catching up in school slowly but surely after never attending much before, and always were kind to the other children and extremely helpful. In the mornings, when it was a scramble to wake, feed, and ready 37 children for school, Sitha often didn’t have time to eat as well. But Jenna often came up to him with a plate of rice, reminding him to take care of himself and looking out for her new papa. Jenny and Jenna were still thrilled to see me and hugged me warmly but didn’t cling to my shirt, afraid and nervous to let go, like they did when we first brought them there. That was a great sign to see them so happy but also so strong, confident, and independent. 

But despite the odds that are stacked against CIO and the children, Sitha and Mama never give up and never exude anything but positivity. Of course they have 35 little reminders why it’s all worth it, from 3 to 19 years old, with them at all times. The afternoon was cooling so Sitha walked me around and gave me a tour of the compound, like I’d received the previous year. But there were definitely improvements; the school room looked great, the colorful library and study center, complete with a few donated computers, was new, and they even had a spirited Khmer (Cambodian) college student, an orphan herself, living with them and teaching the kids English every day as she continued her own studies. There was even a small 1980s television, but the always-thoughtful Sitha explained that the kids were only allowed one hour of television a week on Saturdays. The boys wanted to watch U.S. wrestling, of course, but the girls wanted cartoons, so cartoons it was.

Little girls helped Mama in the kitchen where she prepared about 100 meals a day outdoors on wood and charcoal fires, a task that got her up at 5:30am and off work well past dark.

The soccer field was in full operation, a new volleyball court marked off in the sand, and the separate building with bathrooms was high class for rural Cambodia. There was a whole room with bicycles so the middle and high schoolers could peddle to the school 10 kilometers away every day, as there was no bus. The elementary school kids had an easy 5-minute walk in their blue uniforms and white shirts. The school day was spilt into morning and afternoon sessions in Cambodia with children attending one or the other, so kids were spilling as Sitha and I talked. Each child as they came home walked up to us, bowed and put their hands to their foreheads as is the custom of respect, and said hello and reported they just returned from school in English. Respect, manners, and discipline are integral to the lessons Sitha teaches them, and English is also vital if they hope to get good jobs above manual labor, like working in a hotel or restaurant with tourists for $150 a month or so if they’re lucky. 

As Mama cooked and Sitha supervised the children coming home, I wandered over to the garden, a new addition in the year I’d been gone. As they were designing the flowerbeds, the children had a cool idea to build it in the shape of CIO – the orphanage’s initials. The water pump was also near the garden, an old-school red metal handle the children took turns working to get water to wash dishes, do laundry, and also bathe. I was saying hi to the kids there when I felt a biting pain in my foot. Then another one, and more on my other foot, ankles and legs. I looked down to see I was standing right in a nest of fire ants. Those little sons-of-ants (I gotta keep the language clean when writing a blog about kids!) hurt like wasp stings. I brushed and kicked and danced until they were off me, the children laughing with hilarity at my painful antics.

When dinner was ready, the children took out metal folding tables and plastic chairs and set them up on the concrete deck under the main pavilion. Some of them set the tables while others poured drinks into little plastic cups or took out metal cafeteria trays. Mama scooped the food onto each tray. There was white rice, green beans with chopped pork, and Lok Lak, a Khmer treat of beef in sauce, tomato and onion, and egg. I realized it was a feast to celebrate my visit; they couldn’t always eat that well, and many people here lack meat in their daily meals. 

Before we dug in, some children were assigned to wave the flies away from the tables. Unfortunately, the orphanage grounds sits near a chicken farm and a crocodile farm if I heard correctly, both attracting swarms of flies that migrate over to their dinner tables. The children sang an adorable song of gratitude and blessings before the meal, which I asked them to repeat so I could video it.

We ate among the sounds of children’s’ laughter, but at the adult table Sitha gave me a sketch on the history and culture of Cambodia. He explained that Siem Reap province, despite being the top tourist destination in the country, was the poorest province in Cambodia (which is saying a lot). In fact, the home to Angkor Watt – one of the wonders of the world and an UNESCO world heritage site – brought in a ton of revenue, but the regular people never saw a penny of it. All of the hotels, bars, and restaurants were owned by rich foreigners or a small number of elite Khmer families and the rights to profit from Angkor Watt had been sold to a Vietnamese tycoon in 2004, in one of the most glaring cases of political corruption for profit I can fathom.

I hugged him and mama, then shook their hands, and then hugged them again. There weren’t words to express enough gratitude for what they were doing for these children.

“You don’t say goodbye, only ‘see you later’” Sitha called out, reminding me of what I wrote about the orphanage in my blog a year earlier.

“Here you go Sitha, this will help,” I said, handing him a stack of crisp $100 bills, enough money to pay the upcoming 3-month lease that was hanging over them. I explained that I wasn’t the generous one; most of it came from donations from sweet, caring friends in the United States who had never even been to Cambodia or seen the kids.

As I left, the children lined up and waved, running behind the tuk tuk. I hoped to visit one more time before I left Cambodia, or maybe it would be another year before I got to see them all again, but I was heartened knowing they were all  safe and happy and in great hands. 

-Norm   :-)


P.S. Drop me an email if you'd like to help the children of C.I.O. 

I really loved Cambodia, its chill vibe, friendly people, and balance of some of the things you like in other parts of Asia, without too much of anything.  I spent months in Phnom Penh, the capital city, and immersed myself in the local culture.  To truly get a sense of local life, I moved out of my comfortable hotel and got an apartment in a typical neighborhood.  To get there, I had to follow a maze of winding alleys, through puddles and trash and claustrophobic corners and dark staircases.  My apartment was three stories up in an attic and insanely hot - and rat infested.  Still, I enjoyed making great friends with my neighbors - the girl shown here, an old man who's wife owned a sidewalk kiosk, and the folks at the martial arts studio across the street.  This photo typifies Cambodia for me: flawed, crumbling, treacherous at times, but its humanity always illuminated by a warm light.

This is one of my favorite photos from the whole year because of my affinity for the children and poor folks in Cambodia.  So many kids and even whole families live on the streets, begging and eating out of the trash.  These two little girls were walking barefoot on the hot, dangerous streets, trying to sell hand-woven bracelets to tourists.  They are so poor they never owned a mirror nor saw their own image often, so they were enamored with their likeness in this car mirror.  They made faces and danced and laughed. I snuck up on them and shot a few photos before they got too self conscious and laughed before skipping away.  

This is the best photo I took all year.  Ironically, I snapped it as an afterthought on one of my last days in Asia, in a small city a few hours north of Manila in the Philippines.  Everywhere in Asia the discrepancy between rich and poor is alarming, although not geographically segregated.  There is not better example than this photo, where this burnt-out and roofless building served as the shelter for a young mother and her two infant daughters.  Right beside them sat a 7-11 convenience story on one side and an affluent hotel on the other.  I was alarmed at the textures in this photo, their obvious tenderness despite the depth of their pain, maze of many doorways like Dante's 7 Gates to Hades.

Right after I took this, I saw the little girl hanging out in front of the 7-11 by herself, dirty and shoeless.  I bought her an ice cream and gave her a few dollars and she beamed up at me with her big smile.  There's also hope in this photo, like the open sky above them, the joy of their spirit that can not be burnt down. 

The island of Boracay in the Philippines is one of the coolest places I've ever been to on earth.  I actually visited way back in 1999 when it was just a small inhabitation of fisherman and ladyboys (and the kinky German tourists who chased them) among a mostly-untamed island.  14 years later, Boracay is far more developed, but somehow managed to keep its charm (though there are far less ladyboys and very few kinky Germans.)   It's packed with tourists, families on vacation, and beach lovers from all over the globe, but they've done a good job to manage that growth.  It's almost spotlessly clean, so safe you can walk anywhere at any time of night, and its natural beauty hasn't been diminished…despite having a Subway, McDonalds, and a Starbucks. 

Another photo from Boracay.  On the west side of the island runs White Sand beach, a 7 km strip of immaculate…well, white sand.  It ends into a rock outcropping, but that's where the adventure just begins.  Following a narrow stone trail through the cliffs (above) you end up at majestic Diniweed beach, shown here.  It's a private beach but anyone is welcome, with only a few beach bungalows, guest houses, and restaurants built into the hill.  It's so gorgeous that I would just stand there and take it all in when I visited.

In southeast Asia, water is life.  In every country (even landlocked Laos,) the majority of the population lives along the ocean, rivers, or lakes, where they've survived off of rice farming and fishing for many centuries.  Waterways are also the traditional method of transportation, sometimes house them on floating villages - and often were a means of escape for refugees during bloody conflicts like the Vietnam War and Cambodian genocide.  

Walking through a local market one night, I happened on a wedding celebration.  I managed to snap a quick photo of the newlyweds without disturbing them.  Weddings in Vietnam and other southeast asian cultures are a huge deal - sometimes a 3-day affair!  

This is along the river in Hoi An in north central Vietnam, a charming and colorful enclave of traditional culture - and tourist hotspot.  There were plenty of boats along the river, but this particular family opened their's up to visitors every evening and sold cold beer while the father played guitar and sang to his toddler daughter.  

Ko Pi Pi island in Thailand.  These islands and beach were made famous when they filmed, The Beach with Leonardo DiCaprio years back.  It's stunningly beautiful, though infested with tourists.  I was sad to see trash floating around and the dipshit travelers treating it like their own party place, not giving the respect its beauty deserves.  

A giant golden statue of Buddha from a temple, or Wat, in Thailand.  There are only certain positions you'll ever find a likeness of Buddha, like sitting, standing, laying, or in the lotus pose.  

A photo from a botanical garden in Phuket, Thailand.  Phuket is the largest island in Thailand and some areas, like Patpong, look like crowded and touristy cities.  But there are still areas of the island that are serene and unspoiled by commercialization.  I spent the whole day wandering within this beautiful botanical garden, and saw only a few other people. 

Luang Prabang features parks and gardens along its river, sun-kissed and nearly deserted except for the occasional tourist or locals playing soccer or meditating.  

A year ago, right as I was leaving for Asia, Carol, a new friend of mine, asked me to write a blog about living a conscious life for her website.  I agreed, but then couldn’t do it.  I wanted to and even put pen to paper a couple times, but it was false and I knew it.  I even wrote something while squeezed in my undersized plane seat on the gazillion hour flight from California to Taiwan, but it just amounted to well-disguised fluff.  I tried a few more times my first months in Vietnam but the result was the same.  The good news is that it wasn’t missed – Carol invited me to write it as a guest blogger just as a favor to me, knowing I was trying to gain exposure with a wider audience. 

Still, I felt bad I couldn’t deliver, and was puzzled why.  I never suffer from writer’s block (I just get my ass to work,) but something about this topic eluded me, month after month.  From Vietnam I traveled to the Philippines and then Thailand, Laos, and Cambodia, where I settled into life on tropical islands, abandoning my blog about living consciously for the playthings of sun and sea.  Left with a title and a blank page, it stayed on my To Do list – and my mind.

A year later, these are my last few hours in Asia.  In fact, I’m writing this as I sit in the airport about to grab a flight to Japan and then Hawaii and eventually on to New York City.  So after visiting 7 countries, 20,000 miles, taking 2,562 photos, writing 51 blogs about life, crafting 2 more books, and surviving 1 super typhoon, am I any closer to writing a credible blog about living consciously?

Not really.  And I never will be.  It took me almost the whole year to realize this, but it finally hit me:

If you think you’re conscious, then you are not. 

That epiphany was both comforting and puzzling.  How can I possibly qualify to write about consciousness when I was just one infinitesimal, comically insignificant life form on a planet with 7 billion others?  What makes me so special that I could call myself, “conscious?”  Nothing at all.  So I’ve set foot on a little more of this globe than the average person (though less than others,) and seen and pondered a few more things than the average person, (though far less than others,) but by no means do I think that’s elevated me to any spiritual authority.  I will never be conscious because the more I see, the less I know.  Therefore I will never be qualified to answer Carol’s calling.  

However, this year hasn’t been without lessons – many of them disconcerting and painful but illuminating beyond belief.  First, I had to unlearn everything I’d worshipped as truth because in Asia, almost no Western paradigm has any context.  My cultural debriefing was embarrassing and ego shattering, but always entertaining.  But somehow I survived, and as I board this plane for that gazillion hour flight back I feel much lighter, like I'm carrying less of a burden than I came with.  I hate to disappoint but I have no strong opinions to impress upon you, no grand philosophies to share, nor any secret answers to life’s questions.  I've seen my mortality and understand I.m but one temporary heartbeat, a bundle of sparking neurons like a beacon in the middle of a vast ocean, so deep and distant it’s impossible I’ll ever see the shores.   

 All of our destinies end the same, so take solace that we’re all in that ocean together.  In the meantimes, there’s no such thing as a lifetime, only moments.  And those moments count – every single one of them.  After this epic year exploring exotic cultures and seeing wonders of the world, do you know what I remember the most?  The small things.  A boy opening his umbrella for an old lady during a rainsquall.  A photo of a birthday cake with my name on it.  A hug from orphans who new I wasn’t lying when I promised to keep them safe.  Sleeping on the roof one hot jungle night under a full moon, holding someone I knew I should never love but did anyway.

So don’t worry your thoughts nor waste your days on the big things.  They're either part of our destiny or only made of small things.  Instead, collect those.  Admire their colors in sunlight.  Celebrate them with vigor and give them away with laughter.  That's what you will remember.  I promise.   

Well, I could go on and on and bore you with all of the life lessons I learned this year but a lady is squawking over the airport’s intercom in some unknown language, which I think means it’s time to board. 

So I’ll leave you with this; I depart this strange and magical place filled with more wonder than I found it.  With more compassion for those humble souls suffering for no fault of their own.  And with more love for all of you, who were with me every step of this journey whether you knew it or not.  I don’t want to rush through these moments anymore and never again will I measure these things as small.  I want this plane to take off but never to land.  I may not become conscious but I’ve happily surrendered to that notion, I’m starting to believe that’s how it’s supposed to be.

-Norm  :-)