Global Village

Traveling each country has proven to be a living lesson in its culture, history and current events. We leave one village, walk through a few doors, and in a matter of hours are walking through another village thousands of miles away. The world as a global village is no longer a distant concept. Everywhere we travel I repeatedly find that behind the different cultures and customs we are all just regular people living our daily lives.

War, famine, and genocide have never touched the soil I grew up on; not so for many other countries in our global village. Visiting VN was a wake up call to the fact that anyone we met over 30 years old has experienced first hand the brutal affects of war. We visited war museums, the land mine museum and crawled through the Vietcong tunnel network near Saigon, but it was the people and personal family stories that made it all so real and touched us most. It was a living reminder that war is rarely the solution.

Thirty years later the lush countryside and bustling cities show little of the drastic aftermath of the American war in Vietnam; but Agent Orange still deforms babies and leaches into the crops, limbs and lives are still being lost to land mines hidden in rice paddies and groups of displaced confused expat US Vietnam Vets sit drinking themselves numb at 10 am in the cafes around Saigon. The poignant words of the song War just kept replaying in my mind, over and over. “War! What is it good for? Absolutely Nothing!”

Time to Catch Up!

Traveling (and bus wrecks) can get in the way of journaling the journey. Rewind one month to Halong Bay, Vietnam.

We’re on another rice barge (a.k.a. deluxe floating resort) doing what many good tourists do; seeing beautiful scenery, eating exquisite food, and meeting lots of other westerners. We generally don’t take tour packages as they tend to ‘view’ the culture and environment from an insulated distance rather than be absorbed into it as we like to do by traveling independently. Unfortunately avoiding the tour packages in Halong Bay was near to impossible so in this case we splurged and took a really nice one. It was fun, relaxing, and…a bit lacking in adventure.

Houses, markets, kids playing, even dogs and cats that have never touched real ground; everything is on the water at this small floating fishing village.

Exploring these villages, caves and islands we really missed our swim buddies and the wild adventures we would have with them if they were here.

He’s Not Slowing Down!

…and we thought we would be safe in a big bus. Wrong. Size usually matters but I guess after 8 months on the road our luck has just run out, or has it? We could be dead. The bus driver was just doing what all drivers do, passing a big lorry in busy traffic, unfortunately he miscalculated.

Instead of breaking and dropping back behind the lorry when oncoming traffic was too close he never slowed and slammed into the rear right of the lorry. In this case, sitting in the front right hand seat of the bus was not the best place to be. Besides seeing the whole episode unfold before us we were sitting in direct alignment with the oncoming lorry.

Like a slow motion movie the corner of the lorry seemed to cut through butter as it pealed back the front corner of the bus. Fortunately it stopped short of Janet and I with only my foot getting smashed under the front partition. Thank God Janet’s hip is okay but both our nerves are seriously rattled. We are in the middle of rural Cambodia having just survived what could have easily been a fatal bus accident. We are so lucky.

Now what? With the help of some fellow western travelers I’m carried through the back emergency window to a wooden platform under a local house with at least 50 local onlookers. I am in shock and afraid my foot is broken, I feel helpless. We are 3 hours away from anywhere. I see Janet in the distance trying to flag down passing cars to catch a ride back to Phnom Penh. The cars are all full and no one stops for her. Somehow what passes for an ambulance shows up from the local village and Janet negotiates a ride for us for $100 usd. I ride in the back on a flimsy stretcher with a barefoot attendant, a rusty (probably empty) oxygen tank and a first aid kit consisting of gauze, tape and some saline solution. Janet sits in the front nudging our driver to slow down and stop passing on blind corners.

Fast forward….Once again we are so lucky. My smashed foot is probably only deeply bruised. We got it x-rayed and checked by a doctor at a western clinic in Phnom Penh. The x-rays were worthless and unreadable (totally overexposed) but the doctor manipulated my foot and I can put weight on it and hobble around with a cane.

My 55th birthday is tomorrow May 20th, I am so happy both Janet and I are here to celebrate.

The Road More Traveled

Bicycles are almost a thing of the past in Vietnam having been replaced by 3 million (or more) moterbikes that swarm the streets everyday. We heard that the price of cars is being kept artifically high to discourage people from purchasing them which in theory will keep down the congestion. Admittedly a family of 4 on a motorbike does require less road space than that same family in a car, but what about safety? A child in the U.S. is not even allowed to sit in the front seat of a car. What we see here would not only be illegal in the states it would be considered child abuse. (Note who is wearing the helmet) Perhaps this is just another example of how a wealthy country can afford safety concerns and developing countries don't yet have that luxury.

When we cross the street Janet and I breathe deep, hold hands and cross very slowly and deliberatly while the onslaught of motorbikes part around us like a raging river. It is a very zen experience. Who would have known that walking in Saigon traffic could be a new form of meditation. Breathe in, breathe out, stay centered, focused and slowly get to the other side in one piece.

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