What can I say? I LOVE Laos! It feels so sedate and safe here. The people are so gentle. It has offered a perfect reprieve after the chaos and stress of Vietnam. Motorbikes – don’t see many, don’t want to see any! I had my fill of them in Vietnam. Laos has opened up her arms and embraced me. It is beautiful, the people are kind, and the streets are sedate. It’s not for everyone, but it has been an antidote for me. I haven’t left yet, but I am longing to return.
Habitat for humanity
Lovely Luang Prabang, Laos
December 16-23, 2011
Laos is a lovely landlocked country that is bordered by Myanmar, China, Thailand, Cambodia, and Thailand.
Laos was another country on my agenda but by the time I got there I was feeling quite emotionally and physically tired from Vietnam. My original intentions were to travel through the country over 7-10 days, but when I arrived in LP, I wanted to stay put.
I was in LP from December 16-23. I arrived by air on the 16th at around 10 pm. Going through immigration for my tourist visa posed some challenges. I had to pay cash for the visa, either in US dollars or Thai baht, neither of which i had. Nor did they take Visa. It was poor planning on my part. Immigration made me surrender my passport so that I could seek out money in the airport. The sole ATM was broken and the money exchange shop was closed. Immigration kept my passport and the gentleman at the office gave me his phone number and told me to phone when I had the cash. He told me that he would deliver my passport when he got my call.
It was 10:15 pm and as I left the airport, I felt unsettled and stressed about being without my passport. Anyone who is well-travelled knows that surrendering your passport is a big no-no. I envisioned difficulties at my guesthouse as one must show his/her passport upon arrival. My only option was to roll with it.
Sandra, the angel who saved my ass in Immigration
As I stood waiting for a taxi, a woman named Sandra (from Switzerland) asked me how immigration went. We had chatted very briefly at the airport in Hanoi and were on the same flight. I shared my self-imposed debacle. What happened next was totally unexpected. Sandra graciously offered to give me US money to pay for my visa. She had expressed the same concerns about me having surrendered my passport. I kept saying ‘are you sure?’ and ‘I will pay you back’. In response she said ‘I know you will’. I was so touched to have the trust of a total stranger. In total, I had 10 minutes of conversation with her before she offered the help. Travellers are a nice bunch of people! Once I paid my dues and with my passport securely in hand, we shared a taxi into LP and exchanged information.
The next day, I journeyed across town to her guesthouse. She wasn’t there, so I left a note indicating the time I passed by, suggested dinner at 7 that evening, and wrote that I would pass by her guesthouse to pick her up. I went about my day visiting the various temples, wandered the markets and shops, and enjoyed people watching. I ran into Sandra at the palace and as soon as I saw her I asked ‘did you get my note?’. She said she hadn’t and asked ‘did you get mine?’. We shared the content of our notes and discovered that almost word for word they were exactly the same. We shared a laugh and agreed that our meeting at the airport was meant to be. She will be a friend with whom I will be in contact long after my travels. She too was travelling a long time. She was a great friend in LP and we hung out quite a bit.
I ended up staying in LP for longer than initially thought. LP was delightful and the people so kind and gentle. As it it a UNESCO protected site, everything is fiercely protected from greedy developers. There are no buildings higher than 3 stories and all are beautifully preserved.
I loved so much about this place – rising at 5 am to watch the hundreds of monks collect the daily alms from people on the street; settling into my morning ritual of Ovaltine and some kind of deep-fried donuts at a local coffee shop; having beers while watching sunsets on the Mekong; visiting the morning markets with bizarre veggies and meat products (rats, mice, or squirrels anyone?); eating from the buffets in the food market for a dollar; cycling about the town, and wandering the romantic streets in the night market.
It was here that I met fascinating people. I loved conversations with Thorsten, a man from Switzerland who has been travelling 5 months of the year for the past 27 years! Amazing! When i asked him which countries he hadn’t visited, he noted only 5 countries – Bhutan, Japan, Korea, and a few others that I cannot recall. His tales were fascinating.
Julie and Fintin Fox from England
It was also the place where I met Julie and her 8-year old son Fintin (Oxford, England) who were taking the year off to travel the world. What an adventure for an 8-year old. If I was a mom, this us exactly what I would be doing. I enjoyed sharing a couple of meals with them, although for one of them, I had food poisoning that I carried with me to Bangkok. They will be in Alberta in July and I hope to have them as guests in my home.
I enjoyed conversations with Dieter, a musician from Germany. He travelled overland to Laos from Germany and started his trip in August. It’s hard to imagine the number of trains he took. He spent 3 months just in China. In preparation for the trip he learned Chinese.
Dieter on the elephant.
Then there was Michael, a divorced 55+ year old man from England. He and Thorsten had met travelling a number of years ago and unexpectedly were in Laos at the same time. He was totally eccentric and hilarious. Sandra and I met them at dinner one evening and Michael gave us a rundown of European men and which to avoid or take as lovers. He talked non-stop, was hilarious. Post-dinner he sent me an incredibly detailed e-mail outlining an itinerary to Myanmar, Thailand and several other places. The details included times of trains. His memory and recollection of details was admirable. He was also a Jehovah’s Witness which didn’t really fit with his consumption of alcohol (well, he is a Brit). Oh and the email ended with some scripture references – maybe it does fit.
The people I have met have made this journey extra special. I have been constantly impressed by people and their stories.
I will find a way to return to LP…..hopefully the next time I will be able to share it with someone from home. Sometimes that’s a hard part of travelling independently – seeing beautiful things and having grand experiences but being on one’s own. It is so hard to fully describe what happens on a daily basis and nice to share it with someone.
Luang Prabang was lovely and a nice refuge to recover from the craziness of Vietnam. I was sad to leave. It is a place that I will definitely go back to and to date, it is at the top of my favorites along with Chiang Mai.
SaPa, Vietnam: Trekking in a Distant Land
December 2012 – A small collection of photos from my two day trek in the SaPa area. It shows the scenery, people dressed in traditional wear of their hillside villages, people from my trekking group, the home stay town of Ta Van, and Wi, the girl in red, from our home stay.
SaPa, Vietnam: A Land of Magic & Challenge
From December 13-15, I spent 3 days in SaPa, a 9-hour train ride north Hanoi. It was actually not bad. Train rides always allow for opportunities to meet people and share stories. I bunked with Reece & Sam from Australia and Liz from England. I don’t think any of us slept because of the noise factor mostly. We arrived at 5:30 am in Lao Chai, a town 2 km from the Chinese border. We still had a 2-hour bus ride to SaPa.
SaPa, a town of about 30 thousand people, lies at an elevation of 1650 meters. It’s known for its lovely mountain landscape, tiers of rice paddies on very steep terrain, various ethnic hillside tribes (e.g. Red and Black H’mong, Red Zao, and Dzay tribes), trekking, and the highest peak in Indo-China, Fansipan.
I spent the first day orienting myself, walked through the markets, and fled the multiple tribes women who stalked me to buy stuff. The weather was very chilly and it prompted me to buy a North Face shell, wool socks, mitts and a hat. There was no way I could be there without the gear. By far, it was the coldest place I had visited since leaving Canada at the end of October. Weirdly, the weather did bring a sense of comfort. It was that and a return to mountain scenery, something I love.
I met up with fellow travellers, Joshua and Amy, a couple from Australia. We initially met in Hanoi on a bike tour. As it turns out, our travel itineraries were almost identical and over 14 days in December, we met up in various places to share a meal and stories. They are gems! I will be keeping in contact with them long after our journeys are complete.
When I met up with them, I was a bit upset about the state of my hotel which was horrible! No hot water, no heat, totally filthy with dirty and hole-filled towels that were obviously not changed from the previous guests. It was so cold that i could see my breath in the room. When i asked for a heater, i was charged extra for it. Not cool! It was that or freeze my ass off. I had my little meltdown with J&A who persuaded me to leave and book a room at their hotel. leaving the room only meant a $10 loss, a pittance in exchange for something better. Packing up, I instantly felt a sense of relief. It’s not a good feeling being in a place where you don’t feel all that safe. I slept well in the new place. While it too was on the chilly side, it was safe, clean and I was with friends.
For the next two days, I went on a trek into the mountains. I was in a group of 4 along with our guide. We were Mehdi and Redouane, brothers from France, Go from Japan, and Ngoc, our guide.
The first day was spent walking 12 km through villages of the various hillside tribes – the Red and Black Hmong, Red Zao, and Dzay tribes. There were definitely great points, but again in the land of Vietnam, it was hard to escape the perpetual pressure to buy. Even in the isolation of mountain peaks surrounding me, I continued to hear, ‘Madam, you buy something from me?’. I couldn’t seem to get away from it. I ignored the requests and turned my attention to the magical landscape and company of my fellow trekkers. We had in common the desire to immerse ourselves in the nature of Vietnam – the land away from the perpetual hum of the motos, the unceasing crowds, the smog, and the visual pollution of signage, power wires, and sidewalks so packed with merchants and motos that one must resort to playing a form of automobile/moto dodgeball.
We hiked to the town of Ta Van where we spent the night with a local family. The family consisted of a mom and 6-year old We. The father was away at school learning the local handicraft trade. Power in the town went off at around 9:00 pm so the evening was spent eating dinner cooked by the mom, and sitting around the kitchen hearth fueled by wood and rice husks. We were entertained by We who was insistent in her teaching us 1 to 10 in Vietnamese. We in turn tried to teach her the numbers in English, Japanese, Moroccan, and French. She was delightful and a load of fun!
Oh, and there was the ‘happy water’, a form of rice-derived moonshine. Think of grappa, a very potent form of grappa. A bottle was set on the table and our guide Ngoc encouraged us in our drinking to keep warm. I managed only three shots, which was more than enough. We gave it a good effort and while we all had very red faces, we did not finish the bottle.
Sleepiness from the day came. We slept in the loft of the house on simple mats under the protection of mosquito netting. There was no heating but the blankets were warm. I have to say that it was probably the best sleep I had in several weeks of traveling.
We set out early the next day, this time covering terrain that was a bit steeper and definitely muddier. There were poor villages that we passed through. We visited one family’s home and it was a reminder once again of all the advantages and ammenities we have in our western living. A family of 5 lived in a home with dirt floors, no running water or visible plumbing, no windows or insulation against the cold, and simple and dirty bedding (I only saw 1 queen-sized bed). It was a shared accommodation with hay, the rice crop and a menagerie of dogs and chickens.
I have been challenged in ways unimaginable. One of the challenges on my visit to SaPa came in the form of Xia (?Shia), a girl of about 10 years.
The shy Xia.
As we were having breakfast outside and preparing to leave the home stay on the second day of our trek, I noticed Xia sitting at the side of the house. She appeared shy in nature, stealing periodic peeks at us, and was playing a game with stones, equivalent to the childhood game of jacks. She sat there for at least 40 minutes, watching us and playing her game. As our home stay in Ta Van was 200 meters off of the main path, I assumed that she was the child of a neighbor.
When we left and proceeded with the trek, she began to follow us and we were soon joined by her friend Vi. I engaged in conversation as they spoke basic English. I asked about school and they indicated that they attended in the afternoon, which is typical of children in Vietnam. To accommodate the numbers of children, school is attended either from 7-11 a.m. or 1-5 p.m.
Xia and Vi followed us for 1 hour and 45 minutes. As the distance from their village grew longer, I wondered aloud to them if their moms would be worried. I indicated that they should turn back lest they be late for school.
On a couple of occasions in steeper and muddier places, they told me to take their hand for support which I did. I found it comical that they were in their ‘jelly’ plastic shoes easily scrambling about the terrain while I was in my Merrell hikers struggling in places.
So what was my challenge….?
Our group made a stop at a beautiful waterfall overlooking the slopes of steeply tiered, harvested rice paddies when Xia and Vi approached me. They approached me with a request for money. I asked them why. Essentially, I was met with the response that since they helped me clamber through some steep spots, they wanted compensation. I was astounded. I did not pay and for several reasons. First, I was pissed. When I accepted the helping hand it was with the belief that it was being done with the motivation of kindness. How naïve was I? In my mind, I started the inner dialogue with ‘If I was in Canada on a hike and came across someone having difficulty negotiating the path, I would stop, offer help, offer my hiking stick…..etc.’
‘But this is not Canada’, I reminded myself.
I declined payment on a second level, that doing so would be reinforcing for the girls and would keep them out of school. Obviously, trekkers before me had paid them. They followed us for 1 hour and 45 minutes. To go that far they had to have the thought that I would pay. I was also upset in thinking that our group (me in particular, perhaps?) were targeted from early in the morning, from 200 meters off of the beaten path at our home stay. It all started with a game of jacks….I felt manipulated.
Xia and Vi pestered me further. They left and about 2 hours later I saw them at a rest stop at another hillside village. They were tagging along with some other trekkers. At this point in the day, it was the afternoon schooling time and sadly, they were not in school. I guess they told me what I wanted to hear.
Xia’s compadre Vi
It was a challenge to me on the idea of kindness, that the extension of kindness happens automatically for some, while for others it might happen with different underlying motivations. Perhaps my mistake was that I was responding with a naïve assumption that it was simply a kind gesture with no strings attached. My preference is that I continue to respond with this assumption about others, and that I hold onto naïveté. Question: is it naïveté?
While initially mad, I also felt sadness about the experience. Sad that the girls were missing school, sad that the parents probably had a role in their daughters’ presence on the mountain, and sad that poverty can change how some people approach others. I take it as one experience of many on this journey.
And damn it, I am hell-bent on holding onto my naïveté!
Beautiful Ha Long Bay, Vietnam
December , 2011 – I recently came back from a 2-day boat trip to Ha Long Bay. HLB is in north Vietnam. It was so beautiful and thus far, my favorite part of Vietnam. It was the only place in Vietnam that I wished I had more time. It was a reprieve from the intensity of the many places I visited in this country.
S-21, The Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum
November 2011 – Note: This blog posting contains photos that you may find upsetting.
Cambodia has a painful history and visiting the S-21 in Phnom Pehn is a must. It is a part of the history of this country a
nd coming here (and The Killing Fields) is crucial for a full understanding of what happened and why Cambodia finds itself in its current state.
S-21 was a former high school that was turned into a place of interrogation and torture by the Khmer Regime between 1975-79. During that time, about 3 million people were killed and 20,000 were victims of S-21. Of the 20,000, only 8 lived to tell the tales of the horrors committed there.
It was here that the educated class – doctors, lawyers, professors, engineers, monks, nuns, and anyone else seen to be a threat to Pol Pot’s vision of a pure communal society – were brought to be tortured and killed. Family members of these individuals were also brought here. They too needed to be eliminated so as to avoid these members engaging in revenge killings against the regime.
Meticulous records and photographs (taken when the people entered and after their death) were kept.
As I wandered the various buildings looking at the vast sea of photographs of victims and exhibits showing the methods of torture, I had a lot of thoughts.
I thought about my circle of family and friends and how if we were here in Cambodia during the regime that we all would have been targets. That it would have been highly likely that we would have been murdered for the simple reason of not being from the peasant class, of being a member of the aforementioned professions, and of being a city dweller. I thought about the elimination of all these individuals, the loss of a generation of educated people and the tremendous long-term impact on the country.
Simply said, Pol Pot, his ideology and regime screwed this country.
I thought about the methods of torture and in particular, water-boarding, one of the methods used here. People who support this kind (or any other kind) of torture baffle me. When is torture ever right?
It was not an easy visit.
I have included some photos of the site to give you an idea of what it was like. In particular, I was fascinated by the graffiti that I stumbled upon underneath a stairwell. I am not alone in my sentiments.
Cambodia 2011 – HFH Khmer Harvest Build: Day 5, November 19
The last day of the build was to be an emotional one. The foci of the teams were to finish up small projects, clean the home space, decorate the front of the house as a part of the welcoming, and participate in the ribbon cutting ceremony with the family. Post-ribbon cutting, there was a closing ceremony with speeches, thank you’s, and some entertainment.
I’ve included a link to a video shot by a New Zealander which gives you a sense of the day.
Of course the best part was meeting the entire family who would be moving into the house along with extended family members. Our family was a couple with their two children, ages 9 and 2. The lady who took a liking to me was there along with some additional grandchildren.
The ribbon cutting ceremony totally caught me by surprise. Each of my team members and i were allowed to make one small cut in the ribbon with the owners who made the final cut. Cutting the ribbon, I got totally teary, choked up, and started to cry. What a moment for that family! All I could think of was ‘they have a house’ and how important that was in their lives. It was the start of more teariness for much of the team. Once officially in the house, there was dancing, singing, and a definite sense of joy. Mostly joy…the 2-year old, who I suspect had never seen a white person, started to bawl every time one of us went near him. I really think it was the Caucasian factor. The look on that child’s face was priceless. They’d take him out of the room, he’d stop crying, back into the room, one look and the tears began all over again.
The family was also very emotional. Through a translator, the lady had some lovely sentiments. The mother kept touching me. As i was standing there readying to leave the family, the mother and daughter came to me with a translator. Through the translator, she said that i was to be called the first sister of her daughter. I don’t know the meaning of this exactly, but I took it as something of honour. Nekane, my roommate, had a similar experience, being called the first sister of the owner’s daughter.
It was a meaningful day. A day of pride and joy. I thought about the future of that family. My optimistic self wants great things for them and knows that the housing will change so much for them. Along the way, in small and big ways, I hope that each of the volunteers were changed. I personally feel some kind of shift internally. I don’t know how big it is, but at minimum I have a changed perspective about poverty. I only hope that my changed perspective will make a difference.
It already has….on January 10th, I was to return to Canada. I’ve decided to not come back and to extend my time away so as to participate on another HFH build and will return in March. This build will be in Chetwan, Nepal in mid-February. It will be a 2-week build. I am planning on fundraising my HFH donation/fee (which pays for build materials and my accommodation during the build). I’m really hoping that friends and family will be able to support me in this endeavour. Baring any difficulties in setting up visas from over here, I will go. Stay tuned…..
Baci, Sonya
Cambodia 2011 – HFH Khmer Harvest Build: Day 4, November 18
On Day 4, it was really amazing to see all of the progress being made on the houses. At this point, the walls were as high as they were going to get. It was time to raise high the roof beam (JD Salinger)!
At the start of the project, I believe that the volunteers were to get up high and install the roof. This didn’t happen, which I think was a good thing. The roof looked pretty tricky and judging from the razor thin edges of the metal composite, it could have resulted in some serious cuts.
The Cambodian tradesmen ended up doing all of the installing. Those guys were incredible workers and did all of their work in flip-flops. I have decided that Havaianas are the official “workboot’ of Cambodians. These guys spent the entire week working in them. No steel-toed work boots for them! One wrong drop of a 20-30 pound brick and kaput goes a foot. Anyway, it was amazing to watch them work from below and on top of the scaffolding. Despite their footwear of choice, the were crouching and walking on the metal roof beams as assuredly as I was in my shoes on solid ground.
At ground level, we were all engaged in various tasks – cleaning mortar off of the walls, repairing and filling in the gaps of mortar, painting, and building the front door entry steps.
As things were getting done, others went to the farm and pitched in at other areas. I went back to the brick factory, carting and making bricks. Again, sweaty girl.
On this particular day, it was a mix of energy. On the one hand, a sense of harriedness to get things done for the families and on the other, a sense of things starting to wind down in the project. Regardless of the energy one was feeling, I think there was a sense of accomplishment behind it and anticipation of meeting the family.
The mother of the daughter whose family would have the house was on site. We all initially thought that she was the owner and it wasn’t until the next day that we figured this out. In any event, she was present and so lovely. I get teary recalling this. She didn’t speak English, and my Khmer is rather poor, but beyond words at a deeper level, there was the understanding of incredible gratitude. One didn’t need words to feel this. She seemed to take a liking to me. I was hanging out in the back of the house when she showed up. It was like she imprinted on me as ducklings would to their mama. She kept touching me – my face, my arms, and when I was sweaty, she wiped my brow. It was sweet. A couple of us had our cameras (for me the iPhone) and she kept wanting pictures of herself with me and others. You could see she was emotional. I thought she was the would-be-owner and all along, she was a mother who was feeling the emotions of her daughter, son-in-law, and 2 grandchildren becoming homeowners. A family who would finally have decent and safe shelter and hopefully the opportunity to break some of the poverty. That’s what housing does people. The palpable emotion of what was within me and what was apparent in the mother was a sign of what was to come. I was not really in tune with how much emotion (for me anyway) there was and would be taken by surprise the next day.
While the families will have a small mortgage and will pay off part of their house through sweat equity through giving back to HFH, it will help to free them up to focus on other things.
Im going to switch things up a bit and stand up on a soapbox. I don’t mean to offend anyone, for these are my personal observations of my time here thus far. Imagine if you lacked housing, medical care, clean water, a clean society without a lot of trash in your environment, toilets and plumbing, proper roads and other important infrastructure, food, or a sustainable income…..
If anything, this project has really resulted in an altered perspective of what poverty entails in a third world country, a perspective I lacked if I am going to be truthful about this. There have been moments on this trip where I have been taken aback and shocked by what I have seen. Of course, I will never fully understand what poverty is because I’m not in this predicament, but it has raised the bar of my own consciousness as to what I have, and what people here don’t have. The sense of consumerism and entitlement in western society is shameful. I’m part of this and I’m worried about returning and stepping back into that. I’m worried about my reactions to people who whine. I only hope that I can retain in my mind’s eye what it is like here and use that to be selective about what I whine about. For example, my loss of pictures on my iPhone. Enough said….
Cambodia 2011 – HFH Khmer Harvest Build: A Photo Montage of Days 1-3
I have a few photos to post from the build. Thanks so, so much to Sherwood Kirk (Kansas) and Jordan Samuelson (Seattle) who graciously agreed to share their photos. They were team members of mine. The photos are an assortment of team members, Cambodian tradespersons, children on the housing site, the farm and surrounding countryside. More will be added as others share. Thanks again! I so wanted to share pictures that I had taken and these ones are a gift. Enjoy!
Cambodia 2011 – HFH Khmer Harvest Build: Day 3, November 17
Hey Folks:
I’m terribly behind on my postings so will try and fill you in on my experiences on the build.
Twenty two homes were constructed on this HFH project. The house I worked on was a part of the row housing section. Each row house consisted of 1 single room of about 10×10 in size. Not large at all and hard to imagine that a family of 4 would be sleeping and living in that space. A small bathroom was in the back as well as an small kitchen area outside. A concrete cistern to catch rainwater off of the roof was also built in the back. Aside from toilet plumbing, there was no running water installed in the home.
When we arrived on Day 1 of the build, the only the foundation and three rows of bricks were laid. On this day, the goal for all houses was to get to row 10 of laid bricks. On Day two, the goal was to lay bricks to row 17.
As mentioned in a previous post, I dropped like a fly and was a vomitous mess in the afternoon of Day 1. It left me with a “praying to God and crying for my mama” experience.
I was given the option by my team leader Hugh to remain in Phnom Penh to rest up during Day 2. I struggled with it for a moment, but went with the team. On a super build, the work is intense and projects are only one vs. two weeks in length, so missing a day would have been huge for me. The thought of doing this left me teary and with support of team members (thanks to Dr. Rikkhi, Sis, Nekane & Sarah for tending to me!) I went in. It was a great decision despite some morning queasiness.
On Day 2, I did not lay a lot of bricks. I took it easy in the morning and by the afternoon, i was up and at it. I hauled a lot bricks and buckets of cement to those who were up on scaffolds laying bricks. I am sure that my arms are buffed up from all of the hauling. Each brick was about 20-30 pounds. At one point when I was hauling 2 buckets of cement, a couple of Cambodian workers made some gestures to me that I interpreted as comments on my heartiness. I stopped, dropped the buckets to show them my biceps and they laughed. Cambodian people are quite small in stature. I feel like a giantess in their presence. I have to chuckle because I think that the Cambodian craftsmen were impressed by the women on my team. We were a team of 7 women, 2 men and our team leader Hugh.
On day 2, scaffolding went up and there were 4 team members up there in the brutal heat. I am surprised that there weren’t more who got heat stroke. Needless to say, the team met the goal of getting to row 17.
Day 3 – on the build, there was an opportunity for each of us to visit the farm and make bricks. I had that opportunity to do that. I spent the morning on the farm and afternoon on the brick task.
The farm was awesome! On the last build in this area (the Jimmy and Roslyn Carter Build), the farm did not exist. My understanding was that they decided to create the farm for people in the area to be more self-sufficient. The farm creates jobs and products sold create revenue for the community.
So what did La Contadina Cambodiana do? I did ploughed the dirt with an ancient tool (think Little House on the Prairie) with a team of Brahman cows, went over it with another team – the device that I had to stand on while leading the cows looked like a giant metal toothbrush. I fished Cambodian style with the giant nets, rode in the back of an ox cart, shoveled manure and planted cabbage. It was delightful. It was also an opportunity to think about all of the labour that goes into farming, how farming in Canada used to be, and how the creation of super farming machines has resulted in the demise of farming. Here it keeps many people employed – it might not be efficient, but it offers something.
I spent the afternoon in the brick making area. This was not easy work. In fact if any one shows up thinking that there easy tasks on a HFH build, they will be shaken into reality quickly. Working in this area, the cement mix concrete, sand and something else) for the bricks had to be made, delivered in wheel barrows and poured into molds. For the mold part, there is a whole set of steps to take. Once in the molds, they sit for a day and are then moved to a sunny area where they are cured (or baked) in the sun for 2 weeks.
I worked primarily on the molding and hauling of bricks to the curing area. I worked with two Kiwi’s – Peter and Nigel, who was about 70 years old. Nigel was a machine. We had to load up carts of bricks which weighed about 700 pounds. With Nigel at the helm of the cart, he was literally running with the filled cart to the curing area. Peter and I were behind trotting along and sweating profusely. After 2 trips with bricks, Peter had to say to Nigel ‘you have to slow down man’.
On the entire build I don’t think I have sweat so much in my life. I was a melty, sweaty mess the entire time. And I loved it – the satisfaction of the hard work and knowing it was for a needy, impoverished family. Having a home will allow them to move forward in their life from scavenging at a dump.
I apologize that there are no photos of any of this. A couple of days ago I had the distressing experience of having my iPhone completely wiped out when I went to get it unlocked. This was despite assurances that this would not happen. I was lied to over money and 800 photos/videos were lost. Photos showing the progression of the build are lost. Hopefully I will add them as friends upload them to Picassa for me to beg, borrow and steal. Thus, the reason for a longer narrative. I hope I haven’t bored you with the descriptions.
Stay tuned for Day 4 of the Khmer Harvest Build.
The Travelling Psychologist 
