I'm definitely a bit behind on posting, and I'm not sure that I'll catch up, but I'll at least try to tell you a bit about my travels at the end of my trip.
Before I left Cambodia, I made a quick side trip to Malaysia (to visit my girlfriend, who came from Shenzhen).
From the airplane, the dark olive-green oil palm fields looked a bit like an old computer monitor (where the pixels were still visible). It was an odd mixture of artificiality and nature. I didn't really know what to think, but it was definitely beautiful. I then arrived at the very modern airport, and met Julia. When we headed into town in a taxi, we rode over clean, well-paved highways and watched as more and more glassy, tall buildings came into view. For me, it was a big shock -- after unconsciously accepting Cambodia's level of development as the norm, seeing such well built infrastructure and buildings made me realize how underdeveloped Cambodia is.
The mall was particularly shocking. We went in search of late night food (since nothing else was open after we arrived), and ended up heading to the mall food court. Going inside that building and feeling the cold AC, seeing the seemingly endless glass and excessively pure white lights, and realizing that most of the colorful products being sold served "wants" instead of "needs" sent me down a spiral of negative thinking. Is this what it's all for? Is this why we're all trying? Using the cost of building as a measure of relative importance, it's easy to see that the mall is an important part of people's lives in developed countries. But it doesn't fulfill lives, it just satisfies a want while simultaneously nurturing it so it arises again. Why was it all necessary when the Cambodian people were so happy? Will it really help the people of Cambodia to develop their country into a consumption-centered America-clone? When does development stop being necessary and start becoming frivolous?
The rest of the night was filled with that sort of internal thinking. But I noticed that as I spent time there, the thoughts quickly faded and turned to optimizing my enjoyment of the situation. It's so easy to let those thoughts slide.
Malaysia was a beautiful country with wonderful people, but it left me with a lot of questions...
Friday, July 10, 2009
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Reflections on the Jungle
A few weeks ago, my brother and a friend (Ulara) came to visit me in Cambodia. The morning after they arrived, we took a bus to a small town at the base of the Cardamom Mountains near the Cambodian coast. There is very little development in the region, which makes it a prime location for ecotourism. I chose Chi Phat (the town) because I saw it in a brochure when I visited a different town in the area, and the project seemed interesting.
The organization operating the tours was set up by a Dutch NGO, and was designed to help the poor village shift away from environmentally destructive ways of life like poaching and logging to providing services to tourists interested in the relatively untouched jungle that surrounds it. It’s a very interesting program, and it only just started, so it will be very interesting to see how it turns out.
After we got off the bus in the sleepy river town called Andoung Teuk, we looked for possible transportation to Chi Phat, which is about 15-20km up the river. The town used to have decent business activity until the Thai government funded and built a new bridge, removing the need for travelers to stop and cross the river in a ferry. After briefly wondering how we would make it up the river, a middle-aged man pulled up and asked if we wanted a moto (motorcycle taxi) up to the town. The cost would be five dollars. He called a couple more of his buddies, and each of us hopped on with our drivers.
The drive itself was an amazing experience. My driver was probably the best and most fearless moto-driver I’ve ever ridden with. We swiftly made our way over some pretty hairy dirt roads with potholes and mud, passing by verdant fields of sugarcane against a backdrop of pure, deep blue post-rain sky. Then he surprised me by leaving the other two motos and driving on to a tiny path into what seemed like the woods. The road was sandy and filled with puddles. I kept thinking we would slip and fall out, but each time he just stepped on the gas aggressively and took control back from the elements. We flew through terrain I wouldn’t dare try on my own, fording rivers and riding on loose sand, all without getting the least bit dirty. This guy was amazing.
We then merged with the main road again, and the others were nowhere in sight, although there were a couple of soldiers with AK-47s on a moto in front of us. We got to an area so muddy it was physically impossible to ride, so I got off and waited for the others. I waited almost 10 minutes for the others to catch up, which gives you an idea of how crazy my driver was. We walked through the mud along with some young Cambodian guys, a couple of whom were singing an old-time Cambodian song. Eventually we got to the river, saying goodbye to the moto drivers, one of whom kept proudly telling us that he’s ethnically Chinese, and one of whom kept shouting “Cambodia is happy, Cambodia is happy!” and then laughing heartily. We hopped on a small ferry powered by what seemed like a souped-up lawnmower engine. We were very much on a jungle river. Deep green palms and nameless jungle plants lined the river up to the water’s edge.
The town was small and very “underdeveloped.” It reminded me a lot of the villages I visit when I do client interviews, but maybe even a little poorer because it lacked a direct land route, and the nearest decent-sized city is a couple hours away. We arrived at the main office for the ecotourism organization, which was a small wooden house very similar to the houses that surrounded it. They helped us choose a tour, called over some guides to accompany us, and sent us on our way with our bikes and gear. We chose to bike because it was already late in the day, and we thought we might not make it to the campsite before dark if we walked. My pack was very heavy (I had about 18 water bottles in it) and was extremely uncomfortable when I rode because it put so much pressure on my “seat” when I sat on the bike. I knew I wasn’t in this trip for comfort though, so I stopped thinking about it, especially when I found out that our guide’s pack was probably 1.5 to 2 times heavier than mine. How he rode up that mountain with that pack wearing flip-flops…
Two minutes after we started riding, the sky opened up and it started pouring. We put on our ponchos, but they weren’t much use. Five minutes after starting, Ulara fell into a huge muddy puddle. That pretty much set the tone for the rest of the ride. We climbed through what initially “didn’t feel like the jungle,” mostly farms and low, sloping hills. It alternated between rainy and stiflingly hot (especially with the ponchos on), and we took breaks often. It felt good to be back on a bike, but I realized how much strength I lost while in Cambodia.
Eventually, we entered the “real jungle.” Riding through the jungle wasn’t a very visual experience. There wasn’t much to see, just green-everything and one narrow, muddy track that comprised the trail. The sounds were incredible though. Bugs made sounds that reminded me of science fiction movies, birds sang with voices that made pure, piercing tones, and rain that sounded like eternity. We also used our sense of touch – we needed to constantly check for leeches, which seemed to find the smallest unprotected patch of skin to bite into. A little itchy and painful, but not as bad as I imagined. I do remember one visual experience vividly, though – passing through a “cloud” of 10 or 12 brilliant yellow butterflies bouncing sharply through the air. It sort of felt like a computer generated color show.
After a few hours of riding (I’m not sure, maybe only 3), we arrived exhausted, wet, and smelly at the campsite, which was at the edge of a natural clearing in the jungle. My first impression was “National Geographic African Savanna” (even though I’m not sure what a savanna is). It felt so unreal to look at something so untouched by human development, and to know that there would be no other people passing through the area while we were there. We saved exploration for the morning though, because we needed to set up the tent.
The night was pleasant with frequent showers, and we had a filling meal of rice and vegetable-egg stir fry. I ate so much, but still felt like I could eat more. Or so my legs told me. We slept in hammocks with mosquito-nets built in. We agreed it was the most comfortably we slept the entire time Aaron and Ulara visited. We slept so early I got up at 3:30 and wandered around, assisted by the full moon. At around 5 or 5:30, we walked out to the “pond” in one edge of the large (1km square?) clearing. The feeling was incredible. The purity of the light, the clarity of the air, and the absolute silence -- save the beautiful calls of exotic birds -- put me in a state of wonder. As the sky lightened and the full moon set, I told my brother that I’ve probably only seen one other place in the world as beautiful as this: Crater Lake at sunrise. With my poor writing abilities, describing it would only cheapen the mental image I want to create in your mind, so I’ll just leave it at a couple of adjectives: silent, verdant, blue, white, wet, pure.
After spending an hour in almost meditative contemplation listening to sounds, watching wild birds, looking at insects and spiders, and observing plants, we headed back, barely speaking except to remark on the beauty and awe of the place.
After breakfast, we got on our bikes again. We were still tired from the previous day, but our loads were lighter because we had eaten so much rice and drank so much water. Fortunately, even though the road was narrower and steeper than the previous day, it was generally downhill. We had to get off and walk several times because the path was dangerously steep and muddy (Aaron "endo-d" once). I started getting the hang of things after a while, though. After an hour or so, we suddenly emerged into a brilliant grassy clearing. It was a bit of a relief after struggling to make progress through the jungle.
We eventually came to a village, where we snacked, climbed trees to get local fruits, and talked to a crazy lady. She was definitely a bit crazy. Our guide said she was drunk, but I think it was more than that. Whenever she talked, she would suddenly switch into a high-pitched, slightly annoyed-sounding yelp mid sentence. I couldn’t tell if she was mad or just getting excited.
We went to a pleasant, rocky waterfall, where Ulara took a nap and Aaron and I swam in the comfortably cool water. Crazy lady followed us for a bit, but then walked back to her house via the river. We ate lunch and then headed back to the village.
We stopped at another waterfall, but at this point everyone was exhausted and just wanted to get back and take a shower. We found our guesthouse, and were invited to a dance party where Aaron and Ulara got to experience some genuine Khmer dancing – the type with the hand-movements and the dance steps and walking around the centerpiece slowly in a circle. The local manager of the ecotourism group was drunk and made sure we had a good time.
In the morning, we took bucket showers and had breakfast made by a very nice, skinny old lady. She made very good food, and seemed to enjoy hanging out with us, even if we couldn’t communicate so well. We then said bye to our friends, and promised we’d write (since we weren’t sure if we’d come back). We made it back to Andoung Teuk with enough time to drink some sugar cane juice with our moto-driving friend and chat about his Chinese heritage before we got on the bus back to Phnom Penh.
(Aaron and I enjoyed a durian on the bus on the way back. Hope that didn't bother anyone...)
The organization operating the tours was set up by a Dutch NGO, and was designed to help the poor village shift away from environmentally destructive ways of life like poaching and logging to providing services to tourists interested in the relatively untouched jungle that surrounds it. It’s a very interesting program, and it only just started, so it will be very interesting to see how it turns out.
After we got off the bus in the sleepy river town called Andoung Teuk, we looked for possible transportation to Chi Phat, which is about 15-20km up the river. The town used to have decent business activity until the Thai government funded and built a new bridge, removing the need for travelers to stop and cross the river in a ferry. After briefly wondering how we would make it up the river, a middle-aged man pulled up and asked if we wanted a moto (motorcycle taxi) up to the town. The cost would be five dollars. He called a couple more of his buddies, and each of us hopped on with our drivers.
The drive itself was an amazing experience. My driver was probably the best and most fearless moto-driver I’ve ever ridden with. We swiftly made our way over some pretty hairy dirt roads with potholes and mud, passing by verdant fields of sugarcane against a backdrop of pure, deep blue post-rain sky. Then he surprised me by leaving the other two motos and driving on to a tiny path into what seemed like the woods. The road was sandy and filled with puddles. I kept thinking we would slip and fall out, but each time he just stepped on the gas aggressively and took control back from the elements. We flew through terrain I wouldn’t dare try on my own, fording rivers and riding on loose sand, all without getting the least bit dirty. This guy was amazing.
We then merged with the main road again, and the others were nowhere in sight, although there were a couple of soldiers with AK-47s on a moto in front of us. We got to an area so muddy it was physically impossible to ride, so I got off and waited for the others. I waited almost 10 minutes for the others to catch up, which gives you an idea of how crazy my driver was. We walked through the mud along with some young Cambodian guys, a couple of whom were singing an old-time Cambodian song. Eventually we got to the river, saying goodbye to the moto drivers, one of whom kept proudly telling us that he’s ethnically Chinese, and one of whom kept shouting “Cambodia is happy, Cambodia is happy!” and then laughing heartily. We hopped on a small ferry powered by what seemed like a souped-up lawnmower engine. We were very much on a jungle river. Deep green palms and nameless jungle plants lined the river up to the water’s edge.
The town was small and very “underdeveloped.” It reminded me a lot of the villages I visit when I do client interviews, but maybe even a little poorer because it lacked a direct land route, and the nearest decent-sized city is a couple hours away. We arrived at the main office for the ecotourism organization, which was a small wooden house very similar to the houses that surrounded it. They helped us choose a tour, called over some guides to accompany us, and sent us on our way with our bikes and gear. We chose to bike because it was already late in the day, and we thought we might not make it to the campsite before dark if we walked. My pack was very heavy (I had about 18 water bottles in it) and was extremely uncomfortable when I rode because it put so much pressure on my “seat” when I sat on the bike. I knew I wasn’t in this trip for comfort though, so I stopped thinking about it, especially when I found out that our guide’s pack was probably 1.5 to 2 times heavier than mine. How he rode up that mountain with that pack wearing flip-flops…
Two minutes after we started riding, the sky opened up and it started pouring. We put on our ponchos, but they weren’t much use. Five minutes after starting, Ulara fell into a huge muddy puddle. That pretty much set the tone for the rest of the ride. We climbed through what initially “didn’t feel like the jungle,” mostly farms and low, sloping hills. It alternated between rainy and stiflingly hot (especially with the ponchos on), and we took breaks often. It felt good to be back on a bike, but I realized how much strength I lost while in Cambodia.
Eventually, we entered the “real jungle.” Riding through the jungle wasn’t a very visual experience. There wasn’t much to see, just green-everything and one narrow, muddy track that comprised the trail. The sounds were incredible though. Bugs made sounds that reminded me of science fiction movies, birds sang with voices that made pure, piercing tones, and rain that sounded like eternity. We also used our sense of touch – we needed to constantly check for leeches, which seemed to find the smallest unprotected patch of skin to bite into. A little itchy and painful, but not as bad as I imagined. I do remember one visual experience vividly, though – passing through a “cloud” of 10 or 12 brilliant yellow butterflies bouncing sharply through the air. It sort of felt like a computer generated color show.
After a few hours of riding (I’m not sure, maybe only 3), we arrived exhausted, wet, and smelly at the campsite, which was at the edge of a natural clearing in the jungle. My first impression was “National Geographic African Savanna” (even though I’m not sure what a savanna is). It felt so unreal to look at something so untouched by human development, and to know that there would be no other people passing through the area while we were there. We saved exploration for the morning though, because we needed to set up the tent.
The night was pleasant with frequent showers, and we had a filling meal of rice and vegetable-egg stir fry. I ate so much, but still felt like I could eat more. Or so my legs told me. We slept in hammocks with mosquito-nets built in. We agreed it was the most comfortably we slept the entire time Aaron and Ulara visited. We slept so early I got up at 3:30 and wandered around, assisted by the full moon. At around 5 or 5:30, we walked out to the “pond” in one edge of the large (1km square?) clearing. The feeling was incredible. The purity of the light, the clarity of the air, and the absolute silence -- save the beautiful calls of exotic birds -- put me in a state of wonder. As the sky lightened and the full moon set, I told my brother that I’ve probably only seen one other place in the world as beautiful as this: Crater Lake at sunrise. With my poor writing abilities, describing it would only cheapen the mental image I want to create in your mind, so I’ll just leave it at a couple of adjectives: silent, verdant, blue, white, wet, pure.
After spending an hour in almost meditative contemplation listening to sounds, watching wild birds, looking at insects and spiders, and observing plants, we headed back, barely speaking except to remark on the beauty and awe of the place.
After breakfast, we got on our bikes again. We were still tired from the previous day, but our loads were lighter because we had eaten so much rice and drank so much water. Fortunately, even though the road was narrower and steeper than the previous day, it was generally downhill. We had to get off and walk several times because the path was dangerously steep and muddy (Aaron "endo-d" once). I started getting the hang of things after a while, though. After an hour or so, we suddenly emerged into a brilliant grassy clearing. It was a bit of a relief after struggling to make progress through the jungle.
We eventually came to a village, where we snacked, climbed trees to get local fruits, and talked to a crazy lady. She was definitely a bit crazy. Our guide said she was drunk, but I think it was more than that. Whenever she talked, she would suddenly switch into a high-pitched, slightly annoyed-sounding yelp mid sentence. I couldn’t tell if she was mad or just getting excited.
We went to a pleasant, rocky waterfall, where Ulara took a nap and Aaron and I swam in the comfortably cool water. Crazy lady followed us for a bit, but then walked back to her house via the river. We ate lunch and then headed back to the village.
We stopped at another waterfall, but at this point everyone was exhausted and just wanted to get back and take a shower. We found our guesthouse, and were invited to a dance party where Aaron and Ulara got to experience some genuine Khmer dancing – the type with the hand-movements and the dance steps and walking around the centerpiece slowly in a circle. The local manager of the ecotourism group was drunk and made sure we had a good time.
In the morning, we took bucket showers and had breakfast made by a very nice, skinny old lady. She made very good food, and seemed to enjoy hanging out with us, even if we couldn’t communicate so well. We then said bye to our friends, and promised we’d write (since we weren’t sure if we’d come back). We made it back to Andoung Teuk with enough time to drink some sugar cane juice with our moto-driving friend and chat about his Chinese heritage before we got on the bus back to Phnom Penh.
(Aaron and I enjoyed a durian on the bus on the way back. Hope that didn't bother anyone...)
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Moto of the day
The coveted chicken-moto photograph. Well, actually, not quite. It's the even-rarer baby chicken moto! These chicks were tied at their feet in clusters and hung from a wooden contraption designed to carry them. As we drove by, all I could hear was a steady chorus of "peep-peep-peep"
Monday, May 25, 2009
Monday, May 18, 2009
Thoughts on microloans
For all the debate that rages about whether or not microloans help the poor escape poverty, and whether they actually do more harm than good by over-indebting borrowers, I think the benefits of "forced trying" are often overlooked. When a poor person takes out a loan (or any person for that matter), they know that they must make repayments on time. This means that they must come up with a predetermined amount of money by a certain date. For a poor borrower, this "financial discipline" isn't something they've really had the chance to experience before. Furthermore, in the case of the poorest clients, loan repayments are often comparable to the entire family's monthly savings. This means that they must make a significant effort to earn more and spend less while repaying the loan, or "forced trying."
After spending a few months here and visiting dozens of microloan clients, I've begun to notice some larger themes in their attitudes. Perhaps they only pertain to Cambodian clients, but I think some hold true more universally. For one, although their situation often seems dire from our perspective, the poor are generally unfazed about their condition. Although they must deal with problems like complete lack of health care or wretched sanitation standards, they've lived like this their entire lives. Humans have an incredible ability to adapt to and then accept the circumstances in which they live. Nobody really feels outraged that they can't get running water or electricity, so they end up not making a big effort to get those things by working creatively. In essence they're satisfied with the status quo.
Furthermore, they live in an environment where effort is not always repaid with a commensurate reward. They are more susceptible to severe weather and disease. Even if they increase the amount of rice they plant, or buy more pigs to raise and sell, the rice could be ruined by an untimely rain, and the pigs could all die from a disease. The end result is that through repeated experience, they learn that effort should only be made in moderation, and that risks should be avoided.
However, when a poor person takes out a loan whose repayments are on par with her family's monthly savings, changes in lifestyle and work habits must be made. In order to continue with the current standard of living and make repayments for the loan, the borrower must find other ways to make and save money (particularly if the loan did not go towards an income-producing asset or investment). The borrower learns that she and her family are capable of saving more money by working harder and thinking creatively. By making repayments on time, the borrower is rewarded with permission to take out more loans, and avoids the loss of collateral. Essentially, the loan is providing a rare opportunity for the borrower to experience a formal, structured, rule-based environment that we in the developed world take completely for granted, one in which effort is consistently rewarded.
I think that the positive experience of being rewarded for their work helps poor borrowers believe that they indeed have some control over their situation, and that if they want to change it, they can -- if they make an effort.
After spending a few months here and visiting dozens of microloan clients, I've begun to notice some larger themes in their attitudes. Perhaps they only pertain to Cambodian clients, but I think some hold true more universally. For one, although their situation often seems dire from our perspective, the poor are generally unfazed about their condition. Although they must deal with problems like complete lack of health care or wretched sanitation standards, they've lived like this their entire lives. Humans have an incredible ability to adapt to and then accept the circumstances in which they live. Nobody really feels outraged that they can't get running water or electricity, so they end up not making a big effort to get those things by working creatively. In essence they're satisfied with the status quo.
Furthermore, they live in an environment where effort is not always repaid with a commensurate reward. They are more susceptible to severe weather and disease. Even if they increase the amount of rice they plant, or buy more pigs to raise and sell, the rice could be ruined by an untimely rain, and the pigs could all die from a disease. The end result is that through repeated experience, they learn that effort should only be made in moderation, and that risks should be avoided.
However, when a poor person takes out a loan whose repayments are on par with her family's monthly savings, changes in lifestyle and work habits must be made. In order to continue with the current standard of living and make repayments for the loan, the borrower must find other ways to make and save money (particularly if the loan did not go towards an income-producing asset or investment). The borrower learns that she and her family are capable of saving more money by working harder and thinking creatively. By making repayments on time, the borrower is rewarded with permission to take out more loans, and avoids the loss of collateral. Essentially, the loan is providing a rare opportunity for the borrower to experience a formal, structured, rule-based environment that we in the developed world take completely for granted, one in which effort is consistently rewarded.
I think that the positive experience of being rewarded for their work helps poor borrowers believe that they indeed have some control over their situation, and that if they want to change it, they can -- if they make an effort.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Moto of the day
Serious stacking.
This moto has a 2-wheeled trailer attached, and was spotted on the ride back from Vietnam. It exemplifies the visually-boggling ability of moto drivers to pack their motos with poofy items that look like they should fall off.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
busy with vacation
It's been rather hectic lately, so there's really too much to talk about. Aaron and Ulara came, we went to the jungle, had an amazing adventure, met great people, came back and went to Siem Reap in the same day, and are now going around the temples. So many experiences. It's difficult to make a coherent summary on what's happened so far. I guess the biggest things I've noticed are that traveling with great people is more important than traveling to great places, and that learning a language, even if you only plan to be somewhere for a short time, is easy and makes things so much more enjoyable. Anyways, we need to sleep soon so we can get up in time for some early morning temple ruins.
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