The trip from [Cambodia] took a radical turn of events with our entrance into Vietnam. We were back to paved roads, traffic terrorists (at this point a welcome sight), telephones, and employment. The fields here are immediately marked by vigorous farming, entire families in the fields and the pointed straw hats so commonly seen in the movies. Flying past the Vietnamese after such a radical transition was like the equivalent of going from Mexico to California, or like going from the world's largest city (Tokyo, 27 million—clean, efficient, safe, organized, a real tribute to genius . . . I still cannot believe it) to the world's second largest city (Mexico D.F., 25 million—filthy, polluted, corrupt, dangerous, chaotic . . . you literally cannot see the tops of buildings in the smog, equivalent to smoking two packs of cigarettes a day) that is to say striking—my point being that two things that look similar on paper are often completely different. So to complete my story and stay focused on Cambodia, I will only say that I did a home stay on the Mekong River and then spent the last few days in Ho Chi Min City (Saigon), which I describe as chaos with incredible shopping. Although I prefer visiting new countries on every trip, Vietnam stands as one of a few exceptions—I would go back there in a heartbeat and recommend it to all because it is nice, cheaper that Cambodia where everything is "1 dolla!" and filled with the best shopping I have ever seen. It has beauty and people, but not so many tourists, a bit like Thailand 30 years ago, so I am told.
To wrap up this shocking long diatribe of emotionally charged memory, allow me to summarize what I have been trying to tell you through anecdote. First, Cambodia is an incredible place filled with beauty, history, and unspoken sadness. Next, it is a place rarely visited which holds the ability to open your eyes to the atrocity of war and the resilience of the human spirit. It is a shithole by first-world standards and one of the poorest places on Earth—which gives it a charm and makes it an experience unlike any other. It has great beer, wonderful people, beautiful children, and Wold Heritage sites like Angkor Wat. Lastly, it has something more important that I can never explain; it has reflection of what we are, where we come from, and where we are going. It reflects with great intensity the furthest spectrums of the human experience ranging from ruthless genocide to the capacity to survive. Cambodia is just straight-up fucking raw; it is not a fine French wine tasted over dinner and conversation, but instead it is a shot of tequila with Tabasco taken barefoot standing in the Mekong mud and curling heat while the mosquitoes suck your blood. As such, it is the last place for an armchair traveler, because of instead of giving, Cambodia takes. It shows you the worst of what humans are; the truth is raw and exposed and you can taste it in the air. However, in the end it is simply a must-see place, if not for what it is, then as a test of your ability to cope with what life really boils down to—$1 fruit, love, war, dirt, sweat, stink, nakedness, bugs, flowers, children, sensuality, truth, and death. Although not a complete list of what life is, for me Cambodia holds something precious; it holds a memory of what I was before I went there.
