"I'M GLAD MY DOGS WON'T END UP IN SOUP"

HO CHI MINH CITY, VIETNAM

Temperature: 30 Degrees Celsius

Track of the day: Imagine, John Lennon

I forgot how bad the Vietnam war was," I say as Alecs and I stand in the War Remnants Museum of Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam. Upon stepping foot into the small museum we are bombarded with photos, stories and gruesome details surrounding the American involvement in Vietnam. As this war was one of the most well photographed conflicts, thousands of graphic pictures illustrate the pain and suffering so many thousands of people endured. Near the beginning one can't help but notice the anti-American sentiments depicted in both words and photos. A photo of three American soldiers smiling and posing beside two Vietnamese corpses

hangs beside a sign which reads, "this just shows how if you let the army get to you, it can seriously f*ck you up." A large cement well sits below a story about a platoon who raided a village and pulled out three children hiding in this well, killing them all. The photo of the three children's bodies, bloodied and indistinguishable make my stomach churn. Medal of Honour winner and Ex-Senator Bob Kerrey broke a 32-year silence about these killings as he said the guilt was eating him up inside - he maintains that his Navy Seal Unit killed the civilians. "I can't believe this place," Alecs says, "I knew it was bad, but this is just insane." Hundreds of photos of bloodied corpses or what remains of them litter the walls, but the photos of victims pleading for their lives are what strikes us the most. 'If they are dead, they were Viet Cong' a sign reads next to a maimed woman and baby. We enter the next section of the museum where victims of Agent Orange hang, their bodies mutated in indescribable ways, women, babies, young children - no one was immune, including American soldiers. After we have seen all the photos of horror, hundreds of children's drawings about war line the walls. A crayon picture of a burning house, a dead family in front, a black sky and US missiles in the

air was drawn by an eight-year old girl in northern Vietnam. "Eight year old children shouldn't know about this," I say to a scowling Alecs, "they're supposed to be drawing flowers and rainbows not death and war." However, there is hope under all this tragedy - another set of children's paintings portraying peace between all nations shows that some lessons have been learned. The last photo we encounter in the museum is of dead American youth who were gunned down in Ohio for protesting the war - showing that there were people who cared -citizens cared, parents cared, soldiers cared, but too many didn't care. Walking around the museum leaves us exhausted, not physically but mentally and we both nearly fall asleep on the way to the bustling market, located near the centre of the city. We think about all thehorror we've seen on this trip, horror that only touches the tip of that in this world. We are dropped off at the south entrance of the market where we get the full extent of the traffic in this city. The city centre is situated on the banks of the Mekong, a perfect final destination on our Indochina trip which has followed the Mekong River almost religiously since northern Thailand.  Ho Chi Minh city (also referred to as Saigon) is the largest city in Vietnam, although not the capital, and is also called the 'world motorbike capital.'  Nine million people call this place home making it the most populated city in all of Indochina and standing here at a roundabout there is no doubt in our mind to the validity of this. Anytime the flow of traffic is impeded

 by a stop light, hundreds (literally) of motorbikes mass together almost creating a black-out on the ground. "I've never seen anything like this before," Alecs says as we both stand dumbfounded watching the traffic whiz by. "I guess we should go into the market," I say after a while. The market is something else, something we've never experienced in the tons of markets we've visited thus far. In Thailand, Laos and Cambodia vendors might follow you around, call to you, flash souvenirs in-front of your face but never would they touch you. Here in Vietnam the vendors grab our shirts, pull us into their stands, throw t-shirts over our heads and forcefully try and sell us their goods. We know this is just part of the experience involved in visiting foreign countries, and we are the visitors who must adapt to their culture, but we can't help but remain on edge clutching our money tightly. We do manage to purchase some new sunglasses and some great t-shirts before making our way to the airport. Once in the airport we order some Pho Soup because there is no way we can come all the way to Vietnam and not have this traditional soup. "Would you like Beef, Chicken

or Dog?" the waitress asks me. Dog? I almost vomit at the thought of eating a Shadow or Klinker, but remind myself that I eat cows, which some people believe are sacred. "Chicken," I tell her, praying that no dog meat ends up in my soup, Alecs orders beef and I sit in silence thinking about my own dogs. "I'm glad my dogs won't end up in soup," I say to Alecs, who nods in agreememt. Our soup arrives and we both agree it tastes almost exactly like that in Calgary Vietnamese Restaurants. "Good," Alecs says, "but not much different than home." A whirlwind trip through Vietnam was no where near enough time to fully understand the culture, the people or the land, but we feel we have taken at least something away from our trip. "Busy," Alecs says when I ask him to describe Vietnam in one word, "it would definitely have to be busy." In a few hours at 1:00AM we will be boarding a plane to the Philippines, and then anotherplane to the island of Palawan where we should get our fix of beach time as we spend 11 nights in an ocean paradise. 

Until next time, so long

Alecs and Meg in Ho Chi Minh City

"WE'LL BE BACK, I PROMISE"

SIEM REAP, CAMBODIA

Temperature: 31 Degrees Celsius

Track of the Day: Goodbye Blue Monday, Jeremy Fischer

"That was the most comfortable sleep I've had yet," Alecs says as we prepare for our final day in Cambodia. Yesterday we upgraded from the Golden Banana bed and breakfast to their resort villas to make the last day here extra special. However, after returning from Beng Mealea we were quickly whisked away from exploring our new room by Rattana who wanted us to experience a traditional Apsara dance show. Apsara is the national dance of Cambodia and is easily recognizable by the seemingly-impossible curving of the female dancers hands. We fill up our plates at the buffet of Khmer Barbecue, Asian and International cuisine before settling in

for five different performances. The first performance offers a taste of the Apsara girls but soon becomes a battle between demons and spirits. The dancers fluid movements command the stage and the audience is captivated by the control exuding from their bodies. "This dance is played in weddings," Rattana tells us as a group of young men and woman enter from stage right, leaping forewords and backwards, 

somersaulting in the air, twirling pink and blue scarves in the air and ending when the head Apsara girl enters. The drums beat louder, a young girls voice rings through the air as the Apsara leader and her brood of women finish off the night. We arrive back in our room very late and jump into bed before getting the chance to explore the place. "Look, we have a second floor," Alecs says the next morning, running up a set of stairs. Our room has a large king sized bed, massive bathroom with a rain shower (best shower we've ever had) and plenty of space to move around. Our second floor balcony  has two sun-beds and a large couch overlooking the tranquil pool and waterfall below. Behind a canvas curtain on the balcony we fins a large open-air stone bathtub with bubble bath sitting on the ledge. "I think I know what you're doing tonight," Alecs says 

smiling and trying out the outdoor show beside the tub.  Opening the mini-bar fridge downstairs I find a Mars Chocolate bar, the first piece of chocolate I've seen in two months. "I'm eating it," I say, pulling the wrapper back, splitting half with Alecs and savoring every morsel of taste. We make some call home using an impressive free WiFi connection where I learn my dad has received the Teacher of the Year Award after his first year of teaching - Congrats Dad and my brother made senior Rugby team - you still suck Sam. After telling my mom Cambodia is my favorite place I've ever been (including all the places in Europe I've seen) she cannot help but say "I told you so." Our visiting is cut short when Rattana arrives, excited about taking us to the Cultural Center. We know how much he has wanted to visit this made-for-Khmer exhibit and happily buy him a ticket to join us. Our first stop is a museum depicting the building of Angkor Wat, the previous kings of Cambodia and the current national figures. "That is King Suyavaraman IV," Rattana tells us, "and this is King Javaraman V," he adds, pointing to a statue. It amazes me how Khmer's know so much about their owns history, as it is heavily emphasized in grade school which is another example of their national pride. The three of us walk through the miniature village where all the national symbols, including Angkor Wat, Wat Phnom, Independence Monument and several others are depicted in scaled down, mini form. Meandering along the manicured walkways we stumble on

an archery station where two dollars gets Alecs and Rattana each ten arrows and a bow. "If you get one in the center you get a free bottle of water," Rattana says, reading a sign, "if you get all 10 you get $100.00" Alecs pulls the string back on the bow, releasing the arrow and narrowly missing his target. The three other Khmers sitting around us are intrigued by his impressive form as am I. By the time he has finished shooting all the arrows, three sit dangerously close to the bulls eye (but not quite there) and Alecs group of fans have now disappeared. "Now we go to the 2:30 performance in the mini-theatre," Rattana says as we return the bow and buy a bottle of water. The performance is a wordless dance in an outdoor theater where a Romeo and Juliet style love story is depicted. A beautiful maiden falls in love with a lowly peasant but her mother has plans for her to marry the rich and powerful king. The two men battle it out with leaps and bounds, back flips and somersaults showing their impressive strength and agility while the backup dancers support their on sides in the background. Luckily this story does not end in tragedy like that of a Shakespeare play. In this story the king steps down, admits defeat and

allow the peasant and the maiden to be united happily ever after. Rattana is grinning from ear to ear, so happy it spreads to us and we all walk with a bounce in our step to the next performance near the mock bridge to Phnom Penh. We pass a giant superman along route and Alecs and Rattana cannot help but pose behind it, looking like fools, but at least they were happy fools. The next performance is a traditional wedding where hundreds of excited Khmers watch in interest and Rattana tells us this is exactly how his wedding was. The emcee has black painted moustache and ridiculous eyebrows and the crowd goes wild when he talks and sings. I look over at Rattana halfway through the performance and he has been laughing so hard there are tears in his eyes. "I'm so glad we brought him here," Alecs whispers to me, noticing Rattana's tears as well, "this made his day and so it also made mine,"  he says. Unfortunately the performance comes to an end and Alecs and I must return to our hotel to pack and prepare for our flight to Vietnam. "When we come back," Alecs says to Rattana, "we will bring your daughter and wife

here and the five of us will watch every performance from 8AM-7PM," Alecs says while we leave. Rattana smiles, "I hope you will come back soon," he says sadly. Back at the hotel, we quickly change and head out for dinner at a nice place overlooking the city. I read Alecs the news from the Phnom Penh Post while he downs a hot-dog and fries and I a home cooked porkchop with roasted potatoes peas and carrots. "I'm really going to miss it here," Alecs says, taking a deep breath, watching the people move about their day. "Me too," I sigh, "but it's not goodbye, it's see you later." With that we saunter out the door, walking along the main street, turning left and arriving at the night market. Since we first came to the market, over a week ago we have wanted to try a fish massage and tonight is our last chance. "Ready?" I ask Alecs after tow staff scrub down our feet. We are about to put our feet into a fresh-water pool full of one-inch long fish who will nibble away the dead skin on our feet and toes. We set our feet in the water at the same time and hundreds of these little guys swarm us, covering every inch of our feet and I can't help but flinch. "That feels so weird," Alecs says, his eyes wide like saucers, "I can feel them biting me, but it doesn't hurt." In fact it down not hurt

at all, but the sensation of these fish tickling along the bottom, sides and top of my feet is an indescribable experience. A father drops off his two little boys who stand in the pool, their feet and hands submerged giggling profusely as the fish flutter around them, nibbling, sucking and biting off all their dead skin. For $3 each we receive this 15 minute massage and are fully satisfied with the results as we slip our now silky relaxed feet in our sandals. "That w

as the coolest thing," I say, "I'm so glad we did it." Back at our hotel we order fruity cocktails at the bar near our rooms chatting with the Khmer bar-tender well into the night. Alecs has a coconut mojito while I try a girly blue drink with vodka and curacao in it. This lights around the pool illuminate the small, cozy resort while the sound of the waterfall provides the perfect background to a perfect place. We finish our drinks, order two mango shakes to take to our room and head in for the night. Changing into our 

swimsuits we head upstairs to our outdoor bathtub, fill it with warm water and bubble back and take turns soaking in it. The stars are plenty, the water bubbly and warm and as I sip my mango shake I can't help but been blessed to be here, experiencing all this. We talk well into the night about what we've seen and when we'll come back and before long we have drifted off to sleep. "I can't do it," I say after we finish packing the next morning, "I can't leave, you're going to have to drag me out of this country," I whine. "Rattana, his wife and daughter are here," Alecs says sadly, "we have to go." Tears well up in my eyes and I try to fight them back as we throw our backpacks on the tuk--tuk. Rattana's wife hands me her daughter to hold for the trip to the airport and she stares at me with her giants eyes, clearly a little scared, but lucky for me she doesn't cry. I on the hand continue to fight tears, a lump is growing in my throat and my stomach is doing flips. All too soon we pull into the deserted airport and drag ourselves out of the tuk-tuk one last time. "Thank you so much for everything," I say to Rattana, hugging him and not wanting to let go. "Wait, I borrowed my friends camera," Rattana says taking a small silver camera out of a facecloth. We spend close

to fifteen minutes taking various photos of each other, not wanting this moment to end. Tears are pooling in Rattana's eyes and I can no longer fight mine back. "We'll be back, I promise," I say between sobs, "we are going to miss you more than you can imagine." Rattana wipes the tears from his eyes as do Alecs and I and we walk backwards, waving to the four of them (his niece came too) trying to hold this picture in our memories forever.

Now we are off to Vietnam, missing the amazing and wonderful country of Cambodia already, depressed about leaving here more than any other place. We know there is much more to see and do, but it's hard to leave Cambodia behind.

Until next time so long,

Alecs and Meg leaving Siem Reap

Couldn't get the videos up before the battery died, stay tuned for some great videos especially of the fish!