Hi everyone. I’m going to try and get back into the habit of writing, and we’ll see where it goes.

Right now I’m staying in Northwest Arkansas for the winter and taking some college part time. I’m also working on turning the past year’s travels into a book of sorts. I’m just re-writing it as more of a narrative and filling in a lot of details and things that I skipped over on the blog. Polishing it. I’m also trying to make plans for the next trip.

So Hopefully I’ll get this thing started back up, and it is good to be back.

My first step into the small mud choked stream sank through the water and then into the mud, sinking about halfway up to my knee. The second step, slow and careful as I tried to keep my balance with my fishing pole in one hand and my fish in the other, sank all the way up to my thigh. And then continued to sink. I dropped the fish to one side and reached back with that hand, only to find water and wet muddy bank. A little farther back and I could just reach some of the scraggly swamp grass that lived around there. I was trying to ease my weight back onto my other foot, but it was an awkward angle, and all the time I was slowly, gurglingly, sinking deeper.

Yesterday morning I planned to get up early and go fishing. Around 9:30 I actually did get up, but then they were making breakfast at 10:30 so I waited around until then. But around 11, I finally did get a move on. I borrowed a fly fishing rod, put some extra flies in my pocket, and set off. I had some how got into my head the crazy notion that I was going to catch me a trout (a big one) and bring it home for dinner. Here in the mountains of Montana the streams and lakes are full of trout, in fact the very stream running past the ranch here is an award winning ‘blue ribbon’ trout stream. The reason became immediately evident as I strolled through the forest back to the river. There were a lot of trout in there. Big ones. The water was low, and the stream was almost small enough for me to jump over. It was crystal clear and I could see these monster fish just sitting there looking at me. Of course they wanted nothing to do with the various flies that I flung at them. I think I could hear them laughing and nudging each other saying, hey, did you see that? What an idiot. But I pressed valiantly onward.

I followed the river upstream, like hunting from downwind I reasoned, and continued to flail the rod and lure this way and that aiming for likely bits of river. Feeling optimistic I cut a willow branch and made it into a fish holding device, and with that in my belt I continued fishing. Eventually I did catch a medium sized rainbow trout, and my fish holder worked great. From there I would fish for a while, then pick up my little fish and trudge down the stream a ways, put him back in, and fish a while more. Eventually I came to a place where the stream divided and I knew that they came back together about a half mile farther on, I took the right fork. I knew, theoretically, that this would lead into a zone called cheerfully enough the ‘beaver ponds.’ A place where apparently the stream was dammed and dammed again until it resulted in an extensive maze of flowing waterways and dammed up ponds. Many of these ponds however had accumulated enough silt that they’d become bogs and then marshy grass. In other words, this was a swamp. A big complex swamp covered in waist high grasses and eight foot or so willow shrubs.

The fish is actually underwater here, the water is just really clear.

I discovered all this ‘on the fly’ as it were, as I brought my fish from pond to pond and fished from stream to stream. I never caught any more, but as I ventured deeper into the swamp the waterways became smaller and smaller. I encountered large stagnant ponds and tiny fast flowing streams, but no fish. Also, dry ground was increasingly harder to come by. Eventually I was just trudging blindly on, one step on dry grass and the next in ankle deep water or sometimes mud. Where the little streams went through they had cut deep gashes in the landscape that were nearly invisible through the grass until you stepped into one falling into a narrow trench and up to your knee in ice cold water. But still I pressed on, hoping that eventually I’d come out of this disorienting waste and find the river again. And so I came out eventually into a more open area surrounding a larger pond and what looked like a larger stream flowing into it’s opposite side. I crossed a few mud choked streams on my way to the edge of the lake and squelched through increasingly wet terrain until I arrived on the shore, put down my fish, and stared across the water. By this time my legs ended at the knee and gave way to thick gloppy black mud piles. I searched for a way around.

I saw a bit of higher ground to one side that looked like a good path in the right direction, and all that lay between us was a wide muddy patch. It wasn’t even covered in water like the other places around and looked firm enough. Anyway I hadn’t sunk any deeper than my upper calves all day, So I picked up my fish and my pole and set off. A few seconds later I was up to my thighs and sinking. I would just like to take this opportunity to describe how shockingly cold this mud and water is. It’s really really cold. Fantastically cold, freezing, heart stopping, aching, numbing, painfully cold. Easing my weight back onto my more firmly planted foot did eventually allow me to extract my front leg, though in the process I sank that leg ever deeper. I was able to slowly work my way back out of the bog and onto the soggy piece of ground I had left. I sat there for a moment, and realized that I was out in the middle of a swamp. There were no fish here, there was nothing here. I hadn’t even run into any moose or bears. It was time to go. I took my fish and my pole and crossed back over to the other branch of the stream.

I fished my way back down that one and back to the ranch and then tried my luck on the lake where I caught a couple of tiny little fish, but then it was time for dinner. I carried my fish flopping up to the lodge, put him in the sink, and cut his head off. Then I kind of cut open the belly, scooped the stuff out of there, and put the whole thing into a frying pan with some oil. I let it cook for a few minutes and squirted some lemon juice on it, and then I ate him.

Yesterday afternoon after work Mike and I took a couple of horses and went for a ride into the mountains. We left at five and it was warm enough that I didn’t even bring a sweater, I just work my T-shirt. Mike is from Pennsylvania and now he lives in Philipsburg Montana, the nearest town. The ranch here pays him to take care of the horses and take visitors out riding sometimes. Anyway, we were talking and riding and we made our way through the forest and up into the mountains when the weather began to change. It started to get darker and then there was a breeze. Suddenly there was this sound like a passenger jet coming towards us and then all the sudden we were pelted with wind and rain. It felt like the temperature dropped 20 degrees and we turned around. My horse got a bit fussy and tried bucking me off when there was some lightning, and then slipping in the mud he went and hurt himself so we had to take it slow the whole way back. I don’t know how long it took to get back to the lodge but it was at least eight when we did get the horses back and got inside. I was very very wet. But it was funny, I never shivered at all the whole time. I was cold, I could barely open my hand to let go of the reigns or bend my knees to get off the horse, but I didn’t shiver. I think my body forgot how since it’s been so long. I really didn’t mind it, I just thought of sweating all day at home and I thawed out quick enough.

Anyway, I’m back to work today and now the primaries are over in several states so we’re sorting through who won and getting rid of the losers. I came across one guy in Massachusetts who jut got out of jail. He’d been in office as a state representative for two terms when he got convicted of taking bribes, theft, and fraud. He’s bee in jail for about a year and a half and now that he’s out (on parole) he’s running for the same office again, AND HE PASSED THE PRIMARY. It’s like Peru all over again.

I’ve also met the president and founder here, Richard Kimball, and he’s a really cool guy. He also mentioned his reasoning for the summer camp getaway facilities; his idea was that this way he could offer interns and staff an amazing place to work and neat things to do, and that way he wouldn’t have to pay them. It’s apparently worked out so far, the inters work 8 to 5 for 10 weeks for no pay and the staff get minimum wage. Maybe I’ll come back and work here for a while.

I didn’t do anything very interesting today, and now I guess I’m just going to go to sleep, (it’s not even 9 yet.)

So I’ll just leave you with some pictures.

That’s the town of Philipsburg Montana

I’d say it went well. I was up in time to feel sick and exhausted this morning, and then freeze as well. But things warmed up quickly in the big room full of computers where everyone was working. I was assigned to collect contact information and got a list of the hundreds of pre-primary Massachusetts senate candidates. So I spent all day searching one by one for any contact information I could find on them and putting it on the Vote Smart website. It was very boring and repetitive, but someone’s got to do it.

In the process I am learning a lot more about the project, and it is very cool. This project is extremely important to everyone, and I mean everyone.

WARNING! I don’t usually go into politics, but I finally let it all out here. I just want you to understand that I am not talking about any issues or political parties or people, just politics in general.

Everyone has a responsibility to vote, and some do, but almost NO ONE has any idea what they’re really voting for. I don’t really know all the particulars, but I think that most people already have some idea how stupidly screwed up our government is. And for those of you who haven’t noticed: Our government is screwed up. It has ceased to function in the interests of it’s citizens. It has recently spent nearly one million dollars of ‘stimulus’ money from our taxes (money meant to ‘stimulate’ the US economy (money, further, that we don’t really have being tens of trillions of dollars in debt)) to teach African men to wash their genitals to see if that might help prevent the spread of AIDS in AFRICA. (really, and this is just one teensy example.) And why is the government so screwed up? Why are our elected officials allowed to act like monkeys in the three ring circus that is our capitol? Why do shenanigans like this go unpunished and indeed ignored?

Because WE (the American people) ELECTED THEM. WE decided that they were responsible leaders that we trust. And why on earth would we say such a patently stupid thing? Well, because Rush Limbaugh told us to. Maybe you like Rachael Maddow and Oberman on MSNBC better and do what they tell you to do. Or maybe it was O’Reilly or Fox News that told you who to vote for. Maybe it was your favorite radio station or the newspaper or your family that said these leaders are good ones. But are they? Obviously not. Are their opponents any better? Why? How do you know? How can you tell? Lets look at an example:

Lets say that we are a school board, and we need a new principal for the school. We would probably advertise that we were searching for a principal, and when one or two applied for the job we would want to see them. We would ask them about their experience and whether or not they had ever been a principal before. We would want some kind of proof of that experience and we would want to know how they behaved during that time. We would ask them what plans they had and what strategies for running the school. We would explain certain issues that the school might be having as ask them what they planned to do about it.

Does a modern congress candidate have to answer ANY of those questions? I’ll tell you: NO! They do not. The government officials have the only jobs in the country that you don’t need to answer these questions or provide any kind of resume. To be elected to congress or the presidency you only need 2 things;

1 – An opponent. Without an opponent you would have to rely on your own merits and, as a politician, you have few. Also, even the best of them can’t please everyone, and usually not even a majority. With only 2 parties if you can be a candidate then you have a 50/50 chance.

2 – Money. Lots and lots of money. A presidential campaign nowadays runs about $500,000,000. Five hundred million. And for what? Most of it is a bribe, several bribes really which are paid by groups of people to the candidate so that he will do what they want. What is this money spent on? These groups of people along with the candidate spend all that money to convince you to vote for him. And with that much money to spend, the candidate has no need to actually say anything or make any decisions. With that much money, specialized analysts go around the country and find out what people want to see and hear, and then they feed it to them. With that much money the candidate can attack his opponent’s positions without exposing his own for attack. He can produce flashy commercials and give lengthy speeches without actually saying anything and thus pleasing everyone whereas if he made anything plain then some would agree and some wouldn’t.

And that’s it. Whoever can get the most money together and can produce the best emotional, provocative, baseless drivel that people want to hear will win. That’s how it works. We have politicians, most of them actually, who’ve never even had a real job or ran a real business. A huge majority of them were born into and grew up in politics and that constant high-school-esque drama is all they know.

So who should we vote for? What will the candidates actually do when we elect them? Will they send millions of our tax dollars to Africa to wash men’s genitals? How can we tell?

Well the best way is to see their past experience, their statements, their official acts, their votes. If we know what they’ve done so far we’ll have a good idea of what they’ll continue to do.

And that is all that Vote Smart is for. You can see and COMPARE any candidate’s public statements with his or her voting record. You can see what they’ve done and what they’re doing right now without relying on themselves (who are obviously biased) or on the news media (which are a bunch of self serving, dishonest, manipulative, intolerant, lying, scum bags. ( oops, sorry))

It’s easier to listen to O’reilly and let him tell you what to think. It feels good to listen to the news and agree with it. But if you don’t think that they lie and manipulate with half truths then you’re being naive. If you think that they aren’t preaching what you want to hear so that they’ll get paid then you’re ignorant.

But if you ever feel like knowing the truth about any candidates. If you ever want to know which one you should really vote for, then this project is one of the best places to go. They are right now in the process of releasing a new site called VoteEasy.org where you can see in seconds which candidates actually share your point of view, you can select how you stand on issues and it will show you how the candidates compare. Click on any one of them and you can see how they voted on that particular issue, what they’ve said about it,and how they plan to confront it if elected.

I got this text earlier today from a phone number that I don’t know.

203-586-**** :
Hey, Jason is coming over to give me a ride on his motorcycle!

Gobo :
Who’s Jason?
Who’s this?
And more importantly, can I have a ride on Jason’s Motorcycle?

I haven’t heard back yet.

It’s been I don’t know, about a week now since I left Arkansas.  Once again minding my own business, this time it was my grandfather who asked if I’d like to do a little cross country driving.  I haven’t seen him since… 4 years ago, 2006, and he told me that he was planning to drive to Spokane Washington from his home in Washington DC.  After that he was going to The Great Divide Ranch in Montana to work on some king of political project or other, and then he’d be driving back to Arkansas to visit some family.  So I said sure, why not?

And that leads me to tonight, sitting on a porch looking out at the rocky mountains over the reflection from Moose Lake.  The Ranch as they call it, is a pretty cool place.  It’s set up more like a summer camp, and a really nice summer camp at that.  There’s the lodge, and there’s dormitories along with several different cabins and out buildings.  There’s also another really large cabin that’s set up like an office.  The grounds are well maintained, they’re lit, there’s a large stocked pond along with the Moose Lake which each have a small dock featuring hammocks and row boats.  There’s also a couple of canoes and kayaks around along with fishing poles.  There tennis and basketball courts, there’s also several horses.  There’s two TV rooms with a billion movies, pool and ping pong tables and tons of board games.  There’s a separate library down by the lake fully stocked of course.  It’s a quality establishment with a lot of money in evidence, apparently all from donations.  It doesn’t add up to me.  The project started in ‘the 80′s’ and you can check it out on their website: www.votesmart.org but basically their idea is to provide free and comprehensive information about the many government officials, offices, and candidates.  You can see their voting records, public statements, biographies, and their stand on various issues the idea being that that way people can make a better decision or ‘vote smart.’

It’s a great idea, and I think it’s really important, but where it disconnects for me is somewhere between the millions of dollars donated, 20ish years of work, the paid staff… and the fancy summer camp in the middle of nowhere Montana along with the fact that apparently, they haven’t accomplished much of anything.  I mean no one’s heard of them.  Anyway, it’s a neat place, its really pretty, and it’ll be nice to chill here for the next 2 weeks.

We’re going to start working tomorrow, 8 to 5 compiling data on their computers, but today I went hiking and walked around a bit.  We’re in the middle of nowhere in the rocky mountains West of Butte, and there’s nothing around but mountains and forest.  There’s a topo map of the area and there’s tons of old abandoned mines around, up in the mountains.  A lot of them look like they have old mining roads or tracks up to them too.  I saw elk and turkeys, and I also saw some horses in the forest.  They were watching me from a distance and then they followed me around, I think they wanted me to feed them.  I found 2 of the old mines, but there wasn’t much to see. There were collapsed entrances to the shafts and there were some old falling apart buildings and machinery.  There was an overgrown kind of track leading to both of them though, I wish I had my car here to do some 4 wheeling.

The forest is interesting, it’s not like pine forest anywhere else I’ve been, it really seems more like rain forest.  The ground is wet and spongy almost everywhere, even up on the mountainsides, and down in between the valleys are mostly flooded.  They’re full of bogs and pools and laced by mazes of little fast flowing creeks full of trout and beavers.  The pine trees form a kind of platform with their roots above the water level, sustaining dirt and moss and small plants, but the water flows underneath and erodes at it so that the ground below you is bouncy and spongy with gaping holes and water flowing underneath.  It’s odd.

Anyway, I’m going to start work in the morning, we’ll see how that goes.

D Day – June 10th

The fighting rose to a crescendo in the mid-afternoon. Moving along the left, West flank on the edge of town I was once again united with Robbie. I hadn’t seen him since I took a patrol out to the East several hours earlier. “Where’s Josh?” he asked. I wish I knew. I’d left him on the East flank, but had had to fall back into the town under heavy fire. I hoped he’d made it out.

We arrived at the outskirts in time to face another charge from the forest, and I could tell at once that they would not be stopped short this time. Firing madly from windows and doorways, artillery raining down, and they came on. I sent Robbie scrambling to find some of our tanks, and did the best I could. They had just reached the edge of town when I heard the grinding rumble of steel treads coming ’round the corner, and a moment of relief crossed my heart. The enemy was all around us now, I shot one down as he dashed across the street but his fellow made it. Next thing I knew I was lying on the floor deafened, the man who had been standing by me draped over my legs, dead. A grenade. It had been a grenade. My mind latched onto this for some reason, fascinated. The door flew from it’s hinges and a large brown boot stomped inside. The burly man quickly surveyed the room over his great curled mustache. And as they slid towards me it seemed as if the whole world rushed back into my head in an instant, sound in my ears, air in my lungs. His eyes widened, his mouth twisted into a sneering growl of rage, of frustration. I shot him again.

Before he had quite fallen I struggled to a half standing, half kneeling crouch, encumbered by the dead man at my feet. I raised up enough anyhow. As my iron sights cleared the window’s sill I pulled the trigger just as the soldier outside swung his arm back in the motion of throwing another grenade. My aim was true. I collapsed back to the ground as the grenade exploded at his feet. I was still alive. Get up, I thought. GET UP! and stumbling I came to the doorway, I shot another man as he peered around the corner. Bullets flew everywhere like a swarm of bees, explosions rattled the building and shook the streets. I could hear the distinctive clatter of an MG-42 off to the South, and suddenly I remembered that that was where I had heard the tank before. I was out the door and dashing that way. I rounded a corner and heard Robbie’s shout at the same instant. It must have been something in his voice, instinctively I dove for cover, half rolling and half sliding behind a pile of rubble as the world burst into chaos around me. When the earth stopped shaking and the bricks stopped falling around me I peered through the smoke, stunned. I was still alive. As I looked over my pile of rubble what I saw chilled my blood, I ducked back down. It was a Sherman. Not a Panzer. Bullets continued to ricochet and crack everywhere, fired from windows and doors, corners and ditches. I rolled back onto my side and there was Robbie, a block away in some kind of shop front. There were other men with him, and a few more went by. I needed to get back to them, to our lines. That one block could as well have been all of France.

But our men were pushing back. More came, and then at last a Panzer! They were advancing towards me. A moment later and Robbie slid into my sheltering pile of masonry. We peered out at the looming enemy tank and waited. A rocket, one of ours, suddenly burst with a whoosh from one of the upper windows. It slammed into the upper part of the Sherman and engulfed it in smoke and licking flames. But then the monster lurched forward. Charred black and still aflame like some hellish beast it swung it’s cannon and fired, erasing a large portion of the building. It began to move faster, coming towards our hiding place at the end of the street. With a sinking feeling I realized that there was nowhere to go, if we ran in any direction we were sure to be spotted now. It came closer still. Where was that Panzer? Our fellow soldiers cowered in the buildings to one side, fearful of drawing the beast’s wrath. The Panzer was nowhere to be seen. Enemies on foot were taking up positions opposite our brothers, yet no one was shooting. It was almost peaceful for a moment, everyone watching the Sherman as it advanced up the road crushing bricks and furniture under it’s steel treads. We were going to have to run for it. Someone fired, then everyone fired. The crossfire in the street was incredible, and ricochets pinged off of the lumbering tank. It’s cannon swiveled to the side. This was our chance.

Shoving Robbie ahead of me we lurched into a run. We ran for all we were worth, and it was really not so far. We were only steps away from the corner when I felt it. A certainty beyond doubt, a sudden irrefutable knowledge, that that tank’s single cold black eye was pointing towards me. There was no doubt. It was as if Death had suddenly called my name. I pushed Robbie ahead of me as hard as I could. I was conscious of everything for one glorious moment. The loud clamor of guns in the street, the crunch of grit beneath my boots, the soft sunlight on my neck, the smell of smoke and dust, the taste of it in the air, the guttural thump of the Sherman’s cannon and racket of it’s machine guns. And then, nothing.

D Day – June 10th

They came ashore near Saint-Aubin-sur-Mer. Sword Beach they called it. Boiling onto the shore with the tide, as seemingly indifferent to our fiery protest as to the spray of the sea. The sand erupted beneath them with fire and earth, the sea swallowed many beneath it’s grey waves, the entire beach seemed to shake with the hail storm of our bullets. Still they came on, relentless. The day was theirs. That night we fell back to Caen. We didn’t have long to wait, their assault resumed with the dawn. They made the first push behind their tanks. Confidently, arrogantly, they came across the fields shaking off our guns, ignoring our snipers. But we were ready for them. Long before the city streets five of their tanks were burning wreckage, the rest scattered and retreating.

I was on patrol on the East side of town, near a deep valley. We were tasked with that flank as the town was battered head on from the North, and it was a good thing we were there. We swung East and North, roughly following a path through the dense forest. Creeping through the undergrowth, slowly leap-frogging down the slope, it wasn’t long before we came upon an enemy platoon heading the other way. They were cautious, hugging the edges of the path, eyes darting in every direction. But they were hurried, they weren’t cautious enough. I was on point and caught sight of them in time to motion my men into an ambush formation. We sank into the underbrush and vanished. Birds sang cheerfully in the forest around us, at odd contrast with the echoing rattle and thunder from Caen at our backs. I stared at the leaves in front of me, watched a small spider as he reached the end of a leaf, Ears straining. Without hesitation he stepped out into space and rappelled easily to the ground. Footsteps approached, soft in the dappled sunlight and deep shadows between the trees. My open mouthed breath sounded loud in my ears, my fingers clenched and unclenched on my gun. Agonizing moments passed, the crunch of leaves, hushed whispers, creaking leather and clanking metal, so quiet I might have imagined it. Closer still, and suddenly a dog barked. It was just enough to startle the men, now nearly upon us, they dropped and were still, and silence rolled over us. I thought of a cemetery with the graves all opened, bodies lying scattered across an open field while the spider reached a stem of some plant and started to climb again. Then the enemy was easing to their feet, I could almost sense their exchanged glances, their hand signals, their renewed alertness.

But Luck was with us, our position was perfect. I listened carefully as they passed beside me, just downhill, as they crept oh so slowly, so carefully, past my men. There were only about 10 of us, and with nothing but intuition I supposed at least 30, maybe 40 of them. And then it was time. There was no need for shouted signals, the every sense of every man in that forest were strained to the utmost. With a soft, low whistle, almost soothing, I rose smoothly to my feet, rifle shouldered, safety off. Almost as one we stood and for that billionth of a second had time to register the confusion, the utter perplexity on their faces. My finger squeezed the trigger, and then again before I was completely upright. By the time the bang hit my ears and the recoil my shoulder I was turning on my third man. It happened as if in slow motion, and yet all in one instant; the utter silence, the surprise, the gunfire, the explosion of noise, and we didn’t stop there. Every man had picked his first shot, and ten of them were dead, before we had quite drawn their attention another 10 followed. After that the scene erupted into pandemonium, each man firing as fast as he was able at the next thing moving, and when nothing more moved we fired in the general direction.

Only a moment had passed. The blink of an eye. but oh the difference one moment can make. Nothing remained of the peaceful forest only seconds passed, now there were screams, fire, blood and death. There had been only a smattering of return fire, and as is the nature of firing up hill it had streaked over our heads. We advanced low and fast, firing on the barest suspicion of movement, until another moment had passed and the work was done. Not a single one of us was injured, and we counted 36 men dead or dying on the hillside. Quickly we grabbed equipment, weapons and ammo. Reaching down my eyes locked suddenly with one man, blood bubbling through his lips. He just stared at me, eyes searching, puzzling. I nodded to him and moved on.

Soon we were back in Caen, and the situation was much the same as before. Our few tanks had been unleashed and several of theirs lay burning all around.

D-Day, June 9th

We knew they were coming. You could feel the tension inside the church, a fragile quality in the air, solid, yet ready to shatter. Glancing from my post at a window across the chapel through the harsh glow of a single lantern, I was struck by the scene, at once peaceful and hideous. The men crouched, appearing to kneel along the walls, between the pews, facing forward with with a reverence and intensity that would gladden the heart of any priest. But, pious though some might be, the Holy Spirit had no place here this night. For the men bent not in prayer, but in fear. Hands clasped not holy symbols but tools of death, their shadows playing on the walls like devils shifting impatiently, eager for the unholy service to begin. They didn’t have long to wait. It started with a faraway rumble, a sound so deep that it was felt rather than heard and wouldn’t have registered at all were it not preceded by such a funereal silence. So it begins I thought, and turned to watch the men’s faces. The few men of experience knew what was coming, their shoulders hunched together, hands gripped tighter to their weapons, jaws clenched, waiting, but in the split second after the first thump the more part of the nightmare congregation, young and old filled with suspense and fear, remained ignorant that their fate had been decided. With the explosion that followed all pretense of calm was shattered as if it had never existed and never would. The sound left our ears ringing and the blast knocked many to the floor, yet we were lucky, the next building had been hit and the first screams had begun. Climbing to their feet, pressing against the walls, peering through the windows, our shadows danced behind us with glee. More explosions followed in quick succession, more shouts and screams, more fear in our eyes. By some miracle the church was spared through the bombardment, though it was no mercy I knew. Suddenly a light bloomed bright across the moonless night, obscenely stark across the fields, no light of day but of hell, evil red glow reflecting from the night mist as if emanating with the vapor from the earth beneath us. Naked, the edge of town, the last buildings and our poor church. Bare, the open field, the few outbuildings. Dark and solid lay the forest, crouching not one hundred yards distant, black and impenetrable. Every eye strained against that barrier to sense, every eye searching, dreading, waiting. Then another light bloomed and another and as suddenly as it had gone the blackness returned. Explosions continued to wrack the city, more lights bloomed, still we waited. Suddenly one of the flares burst low, hardly above the treetops, this is what I had waited for. In a sudden moment of silence, the torch sank slowly through the trees and there! Silhouetted by the brilliance, suddenly made clear, were the shapes of men, moving through the trees, creeping closer, encircling, and then they were gone, reclaimed by the darkness. There must be thousands of them.

Then it really began. The first bullet struck the wall of the church with a snap, almost surprising in it’s anti-climax, a soft clap and a bit of stone. The next took a man in the face, he made not a sound as he fell back to the floor. “DOWN DAMMIT!” I shouted, “WAIT FOR THEM!” Cowering, shaking, eyes wide, we waited as the storm broke upon us. It sounded like a hailstorm beating into the old chapel, bits of stone flew and window panes were holed and shattered. The enemy fire, so close in the edge of the woods, seemed faraway somehow, muffled by the fog and the still night air, detached in some way from the echoing clamor inside the church as the walls were battered and holed. Then some of our guns opened up, a forty cal, and then another and another along the line, spouting flame and defiance from several buildings towards the forbidding trees. The flares of gunfire in the trees furthered the illusion of the night with red eyes flickering, tongues of flame licking from the forest. Because I was watching for it, I saw the first push of the enemy, under cover of withering fire and the thick darkness in the mist, hundreds of men broke from the trees and dashed silently toward some debris and old trucks on the outskirts of the town to our left. There was only one thing I could do. “Hold men! Wait for something to shoot at!” and clapping Robbie on the shoulder I was off. Leaping from a window and crouching low, I sprinted toward the enemy now midway across the field and only a hundred or so yards ahead. Luckily I wasn’t the only one to notice, a flare bloomed in front of me, throwing the running men into sharp contrast, their shadows stretching before them like open graves that swallowed them as they dove headlong into the grass. I too was illuminated and scrambled behind a forlorn old truck just ahead of some sniper’s bullets. I squeezed the trigger, and in short bursts emptied my magazine into the men struggling and scrambling forward into a hurricane of metal from the town ahead. That advance at least was halted. Deafened by my own fire, I didn’t at fist register that i was not alone there by the lorry. There were two, no three others, huddled partway below the truck. I soon had them firing in the right direction and warned that the next person likely to reach their truck was wouldn’t be so friendly. Turning back towards my unit, I saw fire spout from the side of the church in answer to bursts directly opposite in the woods. I saw a movement, a shadow, there were men crawling from the trees toward the church. Through the madness of sound and flashing light inside, it was impossible for them to see clearly from the windows, they could only fire blindly towards the forest, meanwhile the enemy crept closer. Taking careful aim, I did what I could along with a lad from beneath the truck. I could hear shouts now, a roar from behind as the first buildings were stormed. The firing reached an ever higher pitch, faster and faster, until it howled from every side. Our truck was coming apart, the boy by my side lurched and lay still. My gun was suddenly wrenched from my grip, shattered by some bit of lead. I took my companion’s but then I was out of ammunition. Still the fight continued, it was incredible that fury such as this could be sustained even for an instant, but it went on and on.

I realized that the fire from the church began to slacken, and suddenly there was a mad charge from the tree line. Firing madly, running, screaming, they came on like demons. Through the windows and the flashes I could see only a few men returning fire but it couldn’t last. Josh, never relenting, spared a glance my way and I knew that as usual, I had no choice. Pistol in hand I threw myself into the night, running, tripping, dashing on, it was only a few more yards to the church. I was only a few steps distant when the first Germans reached it’s side and began firing blindly through the windows. Time seemed to slow and then freeze as I vaulted through an end window, pistol first. A grenade exploded inside and lifted one boy high off the floor. Another, loosing a stream of bullets through one window was shot through the next from behind. Germans were climbing, leaping, into the building and one such had just landed in a crouch below me. He looked shocked to find me, hanging there in the air midway through a window, pistol leveled at his head. And then he was no more, my feet came down on someone, and as I fell I claimed the lives of two more, but in that suspended instant was all of my luck expended. Leveling my gun at the next man, no time to aim, I felt a blow from behind, and another. I fired. I saw a face, twisted with rage, with frenzy, unleashing a swarm of bullets without discretion across the holy chapel, I watched, unable to move as inexorably, that barrel pointed towards me, one grazed my shoulder, I felt the sting of it clearly, but the next, punching into my chest, I didn’t feel at all. I looked down as they crashed inside around me, past me. I saw that it was Josh under me whom I had landed on, his gun laying beside my buckled knee. I should have grabbed it I thought, what happened to my pistol? Then there was a ringing and my helmet flew forward, I fell forward with it. The smooth stones, worn by countless reverent knees and now slick with blood, came up to meet me.

And I got off the plane to beautiful weather in Hong Kong. There I stayed with some friends, the Walkers, who had the goodness to lend me not only their couch, but their doctor whom I saw the next morning. As it turned out, I was the only patient over the age of ten to wait on her attentions that morning, but she (from New Zealand) was happy to see me. After describing the symptoms and explaining that my nose was hurting me quite badly and so she had taken priority over a dentist, she told me that it must be some kind of infection and that anti-biotics should take care of it. So she prescribed me 2 kinds of antibiotics and sent me on my way. Over the next week my condition improved, and I was able to do some sight seeing around Hong Kong.

Hong Kong is a fantastically clean and orderly place, modern in every respect, but still unique and vibrant with character and a personality all it’s own. There is every kind of food from around the world and any franchise you can think of, big or small. But on the corners and in the streets you are never out of sight or scent of the local Chinese staples. From dumplings to noodles to grilled eels, along almost any block of the city you can find food as good as it is foreign. Being an island, Hong Kong has plenty of ocean to see in every direction and I had the good fortune of visiting during the single week of the year with perfect weather for doing so. The water, even in and around the busy harbors, is clean and clear. The water is refreshingly cool and full of life, I swam occasionally and otherwise passed my time visiting the usual tourist stops of the city. My mom came over to visit the Walkers and to bring me home, and together we went to visit the giant Buddha on the end of the island.

After about a week my trip came to an end, and soon I was on the plane home. By the time I arrived, my nose was back to normal and I was completely cured, but no sooner had I finished the antibiotics than the same infection returned, and with a vengeance. In one day the side of my face became swollen with an abscess and I started on another kind of antibiotics. After that didn’t seem to work I tried a fourth kind and to date it seems to have worked.

So I guess that’s it, finished. That’s all I have to say about Asia I guess, and now finally I might be able to catch up to the present, although there isn’t much to say. I think that the blog is going to undergo some significant changes now. It can’t be much of a travelogue as I’m no longer traveling, but I think I’ll try to keep up with it as just a place to express, a place to vent, a place to write.

That’s inside of the mountain with the caves.

That’s the infected toe

That’s… … food?

Those are Rambutans, except for the one on the left, that one’s a durian, the nastiest fruit ever.

Those are some of the houses built out over the water near Koh Kong.

Fried squids!

The River of DOOM!

By now my jaw was becoming a serious and incessant bother, and my nose still hurt, it may have even been getting worse. We got on a bus bound for Bangkok Thailand. Jake’s plan was to meet his (Thai) friend in Bangkok and fly out two days hence, so I decided to go along for the ride and fly to Hong Kong on the same day because the tickets were much cheaper from Bangkok than from Phnom Phen. Anyway, we paid and got on a bus with tickets that said Koh Kong – Bangkok. 10 minutes later we stopped at the Thai border and had to get off the bus and do immigration stuff. As we got off we noticed that they were taking our stuff as well. I tried to take my backpack but they refused to let me, they said that they had to take it over the border to our next bus. Whatever. So we do some paperwork and then cross the border and do some more paperwork. Then we find that our stuff has been loaded into the back of a little van thing and when we arrive the guy demands money for lugging our stuff. We refused and so he pushed the stuff out on the ground. We showed him our tickets to Bangkok but he refuses to let us put our stuff in the car. We yelled at him until he sulked away, put our stuff in the car ourselves, and yelled at the driver until he started the car. It wasn’t even an hour later that the van stopped at a bus station somewhere and we were told to get off. “bus to Bangkok” said the driver, pointing to the station. Another 15 minutes of arguing and yelling and obstinacy later the van guy bought us bus tickets on the next bus to Bangkok, which was scheduled to depart in an hour and a half. Long story short, we ended up in Bangkok about 5 hours late, and got a taxi to Jake’s Friend’s house. Art has an apartment with his mother in the city, and they made us welcome for the night. I was in very much pain by this point, but decided that I could stick it out until China. Jake however, resolved to get to a hospital first thing in the morning for his butt.

So that’s what we did, we went straight to a hospital and Jake was shown into the ER. The doctor took a look and said that yeah, that’s an abscess. He had Jake lie down and he cut it right open and drained it. He also ripped off one of Jake’s toenails that had become infected for good measure. I passed. We ate lunch and then went to the airport. My nose was hurting very badly. It was red and starting to swell as I finally boarded my flight and took my last breath of hot, thick, wet Southeast Asian air.

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Next day found us back at the Dive and the old chap hooked us up with a scooter for the day. I pulled my hat tighter onto my head and we shot out of town. We headed back West and looked for a little blue sign that marked the turnoff to find a river and some waterfalls nearby. We found out that the scooter would almost go 80mph, and we also found the right turnoff without much trouble. as we started down the road though, it steadily degraded from a road to a track to a trail. Soon we were fording creeks, bottoming out on rocks and bouncing off boulders, all on this little yellow scooter. Eventually we made it to a kind of parking area and dared take the punished moto no further. Leaving it behind, we scrambled down a steep hillside through bamboo forest and emerged onto the rocks above a large waterfall. It wasn’t very tall, as waterfalls go, more like some serious rapids dropping maybe 40 or so feet in big steps and chutes. There were some of the ubiquitous Asian tourists already there of course, but we left them behind as we began to jump, wade, and swim our way upriver. It was wide and calm, mostly flat bottomed with the channel dropping deep in places but mostly no deeper than my chest. The water was murky and green with lots of algae, with the jungle growing right down into the edges. We talked as we went about snakes and crocodiles, about piranhas, and with each step we were a little more alert. As it turns out, one of the biggest visible dangers of the river was completely unknown to us, and I wouldn’t have believed it if someone had told me. It wasn’t until I was watching River Monsters on the Discovery Channel (AMAZING show by the way) that I became acquainted to the freshwater sting rays of Southeast Asia. Growing to automotive proportions, these beasts of the jungle rivers could stab you, poison you, OR eat you. We were blissfully ignorant. After a while we floated our way back down the river to the falls and jumped off some rocks into the water.

By some miracle our trusty scooter made it all the way back to town, and then we even found the beach. There are lots of little restaurants along the beach and we stopped by one before taking a swim. We ordered some prawns from a lady that was nice enough and even seemed to understand what we wanted. We waited and waited, I fell asleep, then eventually we gave up and moved on down the beach. We tried a different restaurant, and then another, but none of them seemed to have any idea what we were saying. I can understand it if they don’t speak English, but they have a restaurant, and the idea is generally that people come expecting to be served food. They didn’t seem to have any food anyway. Eventually we did find one lady who puzzled out our intentions and we got to eat some shrimp. About the time that she was bringing out a plate of shrimp at least two or three hours had passed since the first attempt, but suddenly we were set upon by none other than the first lady we had tried ordering from. She started to shout and wave her arms at us, but we had no idea what she wanted. Eventually she communicated that she had gone all the way to market to buy us some shrimps but returned to find us missing, two and a half hours later. We just kind of ignored her. Then we swam and then we went back to sleep.

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So where did I leave off? It’s been a while I know. I know that I was at one point in Krong Koh Kong Cambodia, so I’ll start there. The day before I was on the far Southeast coast in a tiny village that I can’t remember the name of, and I was with Jake. We set off in the morning in a little minivan with our backpacks and some snacks. I bought some dried jackfruit and ‘jelly grass drink’ in a can. Not that kind of grass. Unfortunately, it was just the regular kind of grass at least that’s what it tasted like, it was kind of watery and sweet with bits of gelatinous stuff floating in it. Anyway we were in this minivan interminably, packed in with around 15 Cambodians and some of the worst music ever. It’s odd how similar the Cambodian folk music is to the folk music in Bolivia and Peru. It really does sound similar, really whiny, high pitched, and annoying. With no air conditioning we were all slowly melting into our seats and each other. After about half of an eternity we stopped for lunch and even though we found some pretty good stuff on the side of the highway I was hardly able to eat any because of my jaw. I don’t know if I mentioned this before, but my jaw started hurting me about two or three days before. It didn’t feel like a toothache because it wasn’t any particular tooth, just my upper right jaw that hurt. After two or three days it was hurting bad. I couldn’t really eat and it hurt just to talk or laugh. Also about then my nose was starting to hurt too. Have you ever gotten a zit in your nose? I have, and I think that lots of people have too, but anyway they hurt. There’s no way to pop it and it just kind of builds up there and hurts. It felt like that, but it wasn’t going away. At the same time, Jake was developing an ache on his butt. Apparently a mosquito bite or zit, he had an infected sore that was causing him considerable discomfort. So my nose was sore and my jaw was hurting and Jake had a pain in the butt and we got back in the minivan. We were headed for Krong Koh Kong.

We did arrive eventually, and after a further eventuality we found a cheap hotel. It was Otto’s, a kind of bungalow style place with hammocks for $3 a night. We got a little room with a desk fan and a mosquito net, and then set out into the night. We stopped to eat at a Thai place, fitting because we were on the Thai border, and kicked back for a while. I had some green curry that was really good and it was spicy too, but it took me forever to eat it without really chewing. Next day we decided to try and find the beach that we’d heard of, and started walking South of town towards the ocean along the river. After a time passed a small mosque, and the neighborhood became emphatically Muslim, but it was Cambodian Muslim. This wasn’t like the Muslim neighborhoods that I’d been through in India, these people were all dressed in bright colors, men and women, with some concessions to the incessant heat. The women’s clothes only vaguely resembled anything like a burkha, and the men’s prayer caps were more like doilies. They were all cheerful and smiling, and soon there was a whole herd of children following us and shouting whatever English they knew, or just laughing. The houses were all on stilts in the usual Cambodian fashion, but the stilts grew taller as we neared the water and then the land ended but the houses just continued out into the ocean. The sandy streets ended in the water and then there were boats crowding the passages between buildings. Alongside the homes were built sidewalks made from sticks, logs, and other rotting wood. Calling them rickety or flimsy would be an immense understatement. We braved them anyway and walked out over the water past people mending nets and cooking and doing whatever else they were doing and looked out at the ocean.

There was no beach, and we were kind of disappointed. We headed back to town. Just as it began to rain we ducked into the Dive Inn, which was really just an open restaurant under a roof alongside the road. A very large white man joined us at the table as we sat down and introduced himself as… British. I don’t remember his name, but I remember that he’d been in Cambodia and Southeast Asia for a very long time. He had a girlfriend in every country and excitedly highlighted which clubs and brothels not to miss. He was especially adamant that we visit the Red Windmill outside of Bangkok when he heard that we were on our way to Thailand. We told him that we’d be sure to check it out. He was a cheerful enough guy, and he served us a platter of fish and chips with gusto. He would have talked late into the night, but eventually we excused ourselves and took a walk around town. We found a huge covered market that sold everything from meat to baked sweets to old military gear like tents and tarps. We also found some popsicles and some vicious dogs, and eventually wound up in some of Otto’s hammocks watching The Book of Eli on my laptop.

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I’ve carved up the blog into more manageable and orderly chunks with links at the top of the page, also I am getting together the rest of my journal from cambodia along with some surprises from the last couple weeks.

I know how lame it is to be apologizing on my own blog, but there it is ain’t it.

There was a sight more excitement in Cambodia and a bit of an escapade to Thailand, but honestly not much to speak of. I will in all likelihood get around to writing all about it in detail within the next week, but then again we all know how that goes, so maybe not. In any case there are photos a plenty, and I promise that this is not the end of the blog, I’ll be checking back in within 2 weeks, so you can just check back then if you like.

I’m in Hong Kong now and still have a bit to write about in the last week and lots of pictures to upload. But, procrastinator that I am, it’ll just have to wait till tomorrow.

Today we went for a swim in the ocean at Kep and got some food, then hung around the hotel for a while and ate mangoes until we eventually took a tuk tuk up to Kampot. Our plan there was to get a hotel and wait till evening and then go up to the abandoned hill station on the mountain above. Built by the French a very long time ago, Bokor Hill Station was a kind of resort town with a big hotel, a church, a post office, and some other buildings. The place was taken over by the Cambodians as they became independent and used as a military base until it was taken by the Khmer Rouge and then taken again by the Vietnamese. Eventually government troops took it back from them, and now the place is abandoned. It sits there empty and is mainly a tourist attraction for it’s spectacular views and spectacular creepiness. The walls are splashed with a red colored lichen and riddled with bullet holes and in early morning or late evening a dense fog shrouds the town. Around 5 or we found a moto to take us up there, since we wanted to go explore it at night, but everyone we asked said no, you can’t go up there. We finally found someone to take us, but they only took us as far as the bottom of the mountain. We assumed that the hill station would be something like 5 kilometers further up the road, and passed a security check point as we began our walk up. Along the way several trucks passed us going down the mountain and eventually there was one coming up. We waved them down and asked for a ride. It was a dump truck full of bits of sod and we climbed up on top and resumed our journey.

We hadn’t made it far though when an SUV came speeding up behind flashing it’s lights. We pulled off to the side and the SUV stopped in the road as two men jumped out yelling excitedly at the guys in the cab and gesturing towards us. Without talking to us they got back in the SUV and turned around, soon followed by our truck, but as it came around we jumped off the top and started walking back uphill. Both vehicles stopped again and a guy jumped out of the SUV and started shouting at us in Khmer. We kept walking until the other guy got out and started in in English. He said we couldn’t go up the mountain. We asked why and he told us that it was dangerous, very dangerous, so we asked how is it dangerous. He said that they are patrolling for poachers and that we couldn’t go up. Then we told him that we are not poachers he said we couldn’t go up because the road was under construction, so we said that that’s okay because we were going to walk. Then he said that we couldn’t go because we didn’t have permission from the rangers at the bottom, and we had snuck past the station without getting permission. We told him that we’d walked right down the middle of the road past it and even stopped to ask directions from the guy sitting there, and asked who he was. He told us that he was a ranger, so we asked him permission to go up. He just kept getting more upset though and so we finally gave in and climbed back on the truck and were escorted to the bottom again. We tried talking our way through the checkpoint but this time there were a bunch of people gathered around and they all said no. So we started the walk back to town and managed to hitch hike our way back on a water truck and then in a car with a man who’s daughter lives in the US, in Rhode Island.

Tomorrow the plan is to go on to Koh Kong up the coast on the border with Thailand. And I will be uploading pictures eventually.

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At some point on the… 11th I decided that I was done with Siem Reap, so I hopped on an overnight ( 10ish hour ) bus to Sihanoukville or however you spell that. On our way we picked up another American named Jake, and I overheard his conversation with some other travelers near the front of the bus. I was a little to far back to participate, but it was funny to hear him because as it turns out we have led uncannily similar lives to this point. Similar enough that we were both on the same bus in the middle of nowhere Cambodia anyway. He’d just finished school at BYU-Hawaii, and we had quite a bit in common. I went and talked to him when we stopped for a while, and in Sihanoukville we decided to go on together for a few days. We shared a taxi with a couple other travelers to Kep, about 2 hours down the coast to the East. We got there finally around 9:00 or so in the morning and rented a moped to explore the area.

We found out about some caves nearby, and 45 minutes later we found them. This was the coolest place I’ve ever seen. It’s right next to a town called Kampong Trach ( I think ) and it was just amazing. It’s a biggish mountain rising up above the plains, covered in plants and seemingly honeycombed with cracks and crevices. At ground level there were big caves leading under the mountain. As we walked into one we wound our way maybe 200 meters into the mountain and suddenly emerged into a massive space open to the sky above. The mountain is shaped like a big ring with the middle open to the sky, a perfectly circular window hundreds of feet above. The edge and interior walls were covered in plants and vines and greenery, and honeycombed with cave openings. A narrow and winding staircase led far up one wall to an opening that wound even higher to a small Buddha shrine. All around the bottom opened caves in every direction, some with pools of water inside. The caves twisted deeper and higher into the mountain, several shafts opening hundreds of feet straight above us, but there were no passages leading downwards. The entire mountain was almost hollow with passages and crevasses and it was amazing to explore. There were spectacular formations of every kind, and some chambers big enough to fit a big house in, with huge bats swooping everywhere. A group of small children followed us throughout the caves and even followed us as we climbed up the outside of the mountain. Near the top the rocks grew sharper and sharper until they came to points like knives sticking straight up. I was walking over them with my five finger shoes from Vibram, and they passed the test although it was less than comfortable. One of the little girls along with us was walking over the razor sharp points barefoot. She was amazing to watch as she fearlessly scaled huge vertical faces and jumped down onto jagged rocks while we slowly made our way. I didn’t take almost any pictures just because there is no way to capture it, there’s no way to explain it in words either, this was the most amazing thing I’ve seen yet, and you will just have to see it for yourself to understand.

After that we went and got some more food, and it was good, but so far in Cambodia I haven’t been very impressed since most of the food I’ve eaten has been pretty bland. There in Kep we got a breakfast of crispy fried pork on rice with some kind of sauce and a fried egg along with sliced cucumbers, that was pretty good, and then for lunch we got noodle soup with veggies and beef in it. The food is good but the portions are small and it’s just not very exciting so far, though I hope to find something special eventually.

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Two hours by moped Northeast of Siem Reap Cambodia lies Beng Malea, a huge temple complex built in the 12th century even before Angkor Wat. It’s really big. It’s around the size of Angkor Wat, but it’s totally in ruins and consumed by the forest whereas you could get away with calling Angkor Wat ‘Like New’ on Ebay. No restoration work has been done to the site although they did clear a trail and built a small walkway around one corner of it. As you approach from the road, you cross a stone bridge and then a causeway built at the same time as the temple, lined on either side by the ever present Naga guardians being held by gods on one side and demons on the other. Through the jungle as you approach you can only make out the massive arched entryway and the crumbled pile of rubble that was the steps leading up to it and the wall to either side. The base of the wall remains all the way around, but the columned upper portions have fallen down in most places leaving odd columns jutting out of the stones. Climbing inside I walked around the walkway a little ways, but it only went a little ways, it does a quick loop around about a quarter of the site. So after that I went and had a look around. There were a few other tourists there, but I was quickly out of sight or even hearing. In fact I was quickly lost in the depths of a small city. I climbed to the top of some of the towers still standing and squeezed down into hallways and chambers all but sealed off underneath the towers that had fallen down. I climbed up vines over walls and crawled through windows, it was very neat. It seems like everywhere you look there are incredible carvings, some life size, of nymph like Apsaras, demons, and who knows what else. It was so awesome to squeeze and crawl through cave like passages and narrow halls and then come out into a sunlit courtyard with towering walls covered in lichens and vines climbing up towards the tree tops above. Or climbing up out onto the top of a structure and walk along the top of a crumbling wall high in the air around trees as big around as I am sprouting from the stones with roots draping over either side. This was definitely the coolest place I’ve seen yet.

Bantey Srei is also called the Women’s Temple, and is the most ornately carved one around apparently. It’s undergoing restoration and it’s really pretty amazing to see. All in red ( sandstone I think ) it’s small temple, but every inch is covered in minutely detailed sculpture. As I walked around the outside of it I found a shady spot and decided to take a break for a minute, but just as I laid down in the grass I became aware of an angry horde of black ants attacking my leg. I jumped up and moved on, but I was itchy for the rest of the day. I did get my revenge though because just now I went to see if there was any coke left in a can I left here earlier and got a mouthful of the same little black ants who had taken up residence in the can while I was gone. They were probably trying to ambush me, but that backfired big time.

For lunch I finally ate some interesting Cambodian food called Amok. Amok is basically just fish in coconut curry, but they serve it inside of a coconut. It was really good. And finally I made it to Angkor Wat itself. Angkor wat claims the ‘Biggest Religious Structure’ Title, and I’m not going to dispute it. In terms of scale it makes the Taj Mahal look like a dog house. Though not all that pretty to look at, there sure is plenty of it to see. You can also see right away why they called these guys mountain builders. Angkor Wat IS a mountain. They made a huge stone mountain and then built towers and temples on top of it with a wall and colonnaded walkway all the way around. Along this outer hall is a mural carved into the rock all the way around, some 800 meters in total or like 8 football fields long. It shows all different battles, moments from history, and religious figures along with portrayals of daily life.

Angkor Wat was really neat, but compared with the rest I’d seen around here I just didn’t get all that excited. I mean it’s huge, but it’s all clean and nice and baking with the heat of a blast furnace. It was the end of a long day so I just walked around, took some pictures, and went home to the air conditioning.

Thank the lord Jesus for air conditioning hallelujah.

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