Daily Journal

(Thursday)
March 22

&

(Friday)
March 23

It’s hard to fathom that it has been over two years since Small Voices began as an off the cuff pitch at the premiere of Hotel Rwanda.  It has been a challenging, rewarding and humbling journey.  On the verge of the final production shoot  - I’m a few hours away from leaving for the airport and I’m frantically throwing away food from my refrigerator.  Last trip I can home to a REALLY unpleasant welcome and possibility two or three new kinds of penicillin breeding in my leftovers.

I admit some of this is nervous energy.  I am anxious to get back to Cambodia and see the children and how they are faring in the seven months since we left them.  Is Nygan’s family managing without his income at the dump?  Who is caring for Charam’s 4 year old sister now that he off the street and in school?  Is he still in school?  Are the familiar faces of the street children who “adopted” Theresa and I on the very first trip still haunting their spots on the Tonle Sap riverfront?  Is the forlorn young woman caring for her infant niece still surviving day to day or has she disappeared – simply becoming a statistic in the minds of the strangers who pass her by.   They are questions I both anticipate and dread. 

Later…..

We get to the airport.  And in plenty of time.  I’ve received a never ending supply of phone calls and emails advising me to make sure I’ve got the flight schedule correct this go around.  And to help me make sure I know where the hell I am going – I’ve got a regular entourage with me this go round.  Art, my cameraman, is of course present and accounted for. (And currently fast asleep in the tiny seats the website for China Air colorfully termed ‘cozy’) But we are also joined by my friend and Small Voices narrator, Canadian actress Megan Follows.  Megan is no stranger to humanitarian based projects.  She has traveled to Rwanda and Tanzania as spokeswoman and photographer for World Vision.  My dear friend Dennis is also along for the ride – literally and figuratively.  Dennis avidly followed the blogs on previous trips and decided he wanted to become a sponsor to one of the kids at CCF.  He is traveling to Cambodia to meet his adopted “son”, Bunlong, in person.

After two previous trips suffering through awful accommodations on EVA airlines, we’ve decided to try our lot with China Air.  While it may be crowded, happily there is plenty of distraction.  Each seat has a vid screen with a never ending supply of movies, tv shows and much to Dennis’ delight – video games - (such a boy).

Megan is buried in a Cambodian guidebook memorizing relevant tidbits about greetings and placing chopsticks properly in a bowl.  From experience I can honestly say two things – any greeting to a street kid is bound to be followed by the phrase “dollar please?” and honestly, the number one place you don’t want to put the chopsticks at some of these roadside restaurants is actually in your mouth.

Only 16 hours to go – see you all in Cambodia!

(Saturday)
March 24

21 hours after leaving, we stagger off the plane in Phnom Penh.  We are immediately welcomed by the humidity and are all feeling a little punchy from lack of sleep.  Art manages to get shaken down (again) by an official at customs for a few extra dollars.  We load up with our luggage and walk outside to see a familiar face.  Borom, my Cambodian fixer from Cadamon films is waiting for us.  It’s great to see him  - Cambodia has become such a part of my life that there is a sense of coming home each time I arrive. 

All of us are happy to get to our hotel.  Megan and I wind up with a room facing the river and it’s a great vantage point.  With the rainy season over the street kids are wandering the Tonle Sap in droves again and I watch from the window as they surround the hotel guests who pull up to check in.  I try to relax for a bit but it isn’t long before I feel the need to walk around and get my bearings. So, Megan straps on her camera and we set off for a short walk before our two o’clock production meeting.  Art, no surprise, is getting a snack next door and the three of us set off.  I try to act nonchalant, but have a destination in mind.  The street corner by the National Museum where Charam, his mother and his sister all lived.  The need to make sure they are there is overwhelming and when we get to the street corner and find them all gone I am more than disappointed.  I know I will find Charam at the CCF but I wonder what has happened to Linna and his mom.  Did they move on to somewhere else?  There is no way to answer the question now, so Art and I initiate Megan by walking her through one of the small open markets.  There’s nothing like the smell of meat in the sun or the sight of decrypted looking chickens listlessly twitching on the ground to get into the feel of things. At 2 o’clock we meet up with Borom and our two new crewmembers for a meeting.  Our new sound man, Thoeun, and our new translator, Thary.  Borom tells me that Ny, my translator from the last shoot, has gone to work for an NGO that works with orphans.

Once the meeting is over it’s time to head over to CCF.  Dennis is chomping at the bit to meet Bunlong and I’m anxious to see my “kids” as well.  The four of us pile in a Tuk Tuk.  Sadly, the driver I have used each time I’ve been here before, Vantha, is nowhere to be found.  Megan and Dennis are a little wide eyed as we careen down the street with moto bikes and cars zipping and weaving around us with little regard to traffic rules.  It is, Megan notes, organized chaos. 

We arrive at CCF and I go tearing inside like a kid at Christmas forcing the others to trail along behind me.  But I have a mission in mind!  The first class I see in session I poke my head in, and a dozen little faces swivel my way.  Suddenly I hear a little shout and Charam is out of his seat and barreling toward me at high velocity.  He leaps into my arms, throws his around my neck and hugs me tight.  I am grinning like a fool.

The reunion doesn’t stop there.  In short succession we see Scott, Fiona (the nurse from Scotland), Nin – the sweet office manager who came with us to the villages on the last trip and of course, all the kids.  Scott brings a shy Bunlong over to meet Dennis. Dennis' eyes are bright with tears and Bunlong wraps himself around his American “dad”.  We chat and catch up with the staff while we wait for the rest of the children to come back from public school.  Lyda is the first to arrive and she dashes over to give me a hug and kiss.  She is wearing the necklace I gave her and shows me some photos she just took in photography class.  It isn’t long before I am surrounded by my ‘kids” Leakhena and Layseng, Meng Ly and Nygan all light up with bright smiles as they come through the gate and see Art and I, back at last.  Megan and Dennis recognize Nygan from the movie trailer and Megan is struck by his sweet, beautiful smile.  Dennis gets drawn into a game of volleyball with the boys and Charam is busy handing out candy to everyone from a bag that Art gave him.  Of course he’s got about a dozen pieces crammed into his own pockets and mouth.

We reluctantly say goodbye to the kids. We are all exhausted and ready to have dinner and get some sleep.  Fiona and a new staff member at CCF, Annabel, join us for a bite at Friends restaurant, which is right across from Charam’s street corner.  After dinner, Fiona asks us if we’ve seen Linna and I tell her that they were gone from the street corner.  Fiona sets off to investigate, with us in tow, and lo and behold - Art and I got the spot wrong.  Must have been the jet lag!  Charam’s mother, surprisingly, greets me with great happiness and is beaming.  She recognizes me and apparently has undergone a change of attitude since the last time I saw her.  There is another surprise – she is seven months pregnant.  All of us can’t help but think  - what on earth will happen to another child born on the streets.  She can’t even support the 2 she has now.  Also – she has no idea where Linna is.  We start walking back to the hotel.  Suddenly, out of the darkness, the little imp appears -  walking along with another woman.  Fiona calls out to her and she lifts her arms up to me.  I pick her up and hold her close.  My day is now complete.

(Sunday)
March 25

Apparently what I consider early is not early at all (something I’m sure Theresa told me on previous trips when I would refuse to get up at 5am with her.) By six am there’s a large group of people dancing and doing aerobics by the river.  Flailing about at the crack of dawn while looking at a polluted river certainly isn’t my idea of a good time, but to each his own.

Megan, Art and I tromp out the door to shoot footage of street kids and spend the next three hours trying to capture close up, intimate moments of their lives.  There were certainly some startling ones.  At one point a half naked toddler goes tearing by us waving a knife.  He proceeds to use the knife to hack leaves off a tree and then stabs with it wildly into the ground.  We also run into a young girl with a baby in a sling.  She is literally staggering around unable to walk in a straight line.  She stumbles past Megan and I and we’re fairly certainly she is high on something.  She obviously knows how to work tourists with cameras as she makes her way toward Art and poses for the camera.

As we are getting ready to head back to meet the rest of the crew, we spot a little girl with two older women.  The girl is about four and is also suffering from a form of dwarfism.  One of the older women comes over to me and pulls out a birth certificate and a photo ID of the child.  She presses it into my hands and gestures to the child and then to me.  For a moment, I thought she was attempting to give me the child.  I had no idea what to do, so I gave her the papers and gave the child a dollar.  That was all that was expected and they headed off to find another westerner to give a heart attack to.

By midmorning the rest of our crew has arrived and we head over to CCF to pick up Charam so we can take him for a visit to see Linna, his sister, and his mother, Yorn.  Charam is raring to go when we arrive and piles into the Tuk Tuk.  When we get to his street corner he jumps out and Linna runs into his arms.  The two of them are so beautiful together.  The time and care he takes with her touches me deeply.  Linna spots me and scampers on over.  I haul her up into my arms where she gently touches my face and laughs with delight.  We spend the next couple of hours documenting some family time and interview Yorn and her husband, who has returned from the countryside to join his family.  They both tell us they are happy with the impending arrival of the new baby, but I can’t help but wonder who will care and support this new child.  Linna had Charam full time from the moment she was born until now. The new baby will not be so lucky. 

Charam sits with his sister and gently shows us the scars on her hands as he tells us the story about how she was hit and dragged by a car.  The sun is beating down on them, so he decides to head to the riverfront for some shade and ice cream from a street vendor.  We follow closely and it turns out to be a fortunate thing.  We run into one of the girls we interviewed seven months ago hanging out with some other girls.  She remembers Art and I and is anxious to talk with us again.  We make plans to meet her Tuesday.  All of us have an unpleasant feeling.  She is looking rather ‘dolled’ up with make up and hair – a far cry from her look last summer and we can’t help but wonder what she may now be doing for work in a city that is well known for exploiting young girls.

We finish with Charam’s family and take Linna to the market for some new shoes. The ones Art bought her last summer are falling off her feet.  I also give Charam the football I brought for him from back home that he was been waiting for as a late “Christmas’ present.  He is delighted as I show him how to hold and throw it.  As we walk along, he attempts to bounce it like a basketball with poor results.  But it is adorable to see.

We finish the afternoon by almost managing to get in trouble with the authorities again.  We went to the five story glitzy mall in the wealthier area of town to try and create some contrast to the poverty we are used to seeing.  It isn’t long before we attract attention and I find myself heading into the security office at the mall with our new sound guy to try and work something out.  After some fast-talking, a copy of my permit, $40 and a copy of my passport – we are the proud owners of 4 journalist passes, which we put to good use shooting inside the mall.  It is amazing to see young people inside forking over money for watches and plasma televisions while less than a mile away kids are begging for food and are barely clothed.

Tonight Megan and I are sitting in the Foreign Correspondence Club having a drink and reflecting on the damage done to Cambodian society and speculating on its recovery.  It has been a different experience in the last couple of days having a group of people with me, rather than just myself and Art or myself and Theresa.  The group dynamic leads to interesting and involving conversation and there is a real sense of camaraderie that has been inspiring and uplifting.  I look forward to what the rest of the week will bring.

(Monday)
March 26

These things I know are true.  Shoots never follow a schedule. One should ALWAYS wear sunscreen even if you think you are shooting inside.  And there are 525 steps leading up to the ancient temple at Ou Doung Mountain - steep, steep, steps - in the blazing sun.  Which, indecently, tends to be bad for white girls from Los Angeles.

Ou Doung Mountain is situated 45 minutes outside Phnom Penh.  Originally intended as the site for the country’s capitol – it is now a minor tourist attraction for people, a little off the beaten path.  My Cambodian fixer, Borom, has brought us here to scout the location as a possible place to talk to poor and abandoned children.  He also entices us by telling us there is a frozen corpse of a murdered monk kept somewhat preserved there.  (Though he added the fact that it was getting a little moldy in the face) I’m not sure this is a draw for climbing 525 steps, but Art is duly interested.  In fact, I didn’t know we had to climb 525 steep steps in the sun.  My foggy, jetlagged brain thought we were doing a quick local scouting trip to a nearby slum area and when we piled into the van and Borom announced exactly how far away we are going – I realized we’ve just committed to shooting instead of scouting. 

We arrive at the ancient temple and are immediately crowded by children selling trinkets and offering to shine our shoes.  Here, rather than begging, the children offer goods or services as a way of earning money.  Our favorites are the children who hike up the steep climb with us fanning us the whole way with bamboo fans.  Two in particular glue themselves to our side so I resolve to interview them and find out their stories.

The shy, tall 14-year-old girl is new to Ou Doung.  She just started working because her mother died several months before in childbirth and she was now alone.  The 12-year-old boy had lived there with his family for several years, but he worked while his parents slept in a hammock in the shade.  It is something I have seen and heard over and over during my time in Cambodia.  Children working to earn money for parents who refuse to do the work themselves.  I know it is because they think the children are more sympathetic to the westerners, but it puts you in a tough position.  You don’t want to give money because you are continuing the cycle of the parents exploiting the children.  You want to give money to make sure the child has enough to eat and won’t get in trouble for not doing their job.  Back and forth.  Round and round. Endless cycles with no easy answer.

Four hours and one very bad sunburn later – we are off to CCF to set up a schedule for interviewing staff and kids.  On the way we stop by to pick up Linna so she can play at the school and visit her brother, Charam, for the afternoon.  When I arrive at her street corner, her mother motions for me to sit down on their wooden pallet.  Linna crawls into my lap and amazingly Yorn (their mother) pulls out a stack of baby photos of Charam.  She proudly shows them off to me, delighting in my joy at seeing Charam at various stages of his life.  Lastly, she pulls out a black and white copy of the photo of Charam and I taken last summer.  It is one I sent to the CCF via email and I realize Charam must have had it printed off and has given it to his mother to add to their family photos. Yorn smiles and points to the picture, and then to me.  She carefully stacks it with the others and hands her daughter off to me with trust and gratitude.  It is a responsibility I treasure.  My family has grown by three.

(Tuesday)
March 27

Let’s hear it for global warming.  Every day since we arrived it has rained every afternoon.  Not the heavy downpour of monsoon season – but a healthy dose nonetheless.  As it is certainly NOT suppose to raining in March here – a fact which is also baffling our Cambodian crew – it makes you wonder.  Megan speculated on an early morning walk whether or not the rain would help clear the nastiness of the street.  Her thought was then punctuated by a man kicking a large bloody dead mouse in our path.  I guess question answered.

Cambodia is holding elections this Thursday and it has become a common site to see large trucks blaring wailing music and decorated with large portraits of candidates rolling slowing through the streets.  Art is of the opinion that they rather resemble funeral processions - and having been dragged to a Cambodian funeral at 5 in the morning by Theresa the first time I was here – I kinda agree. 

This morning from the window I watched street kids playing a Cambodian form of hacky sack.  Yesterday I taught Charam the basics of American football.  I had told him about football in an email back at Thanksgiving and sent him a picture of the ball.  Of course, he thought an oval shaped ball was just the weirdest thing he’d ever seen, and like every 12 year old who sees a new toy – he immediately wanted one.  So one of the most important pieces of my luggage was a youth sized football for him to play with.  We have spent a few minutes each day practicing throwing and catching and it’s been an absolute ball. (After I wrote the line I realized it’s a very bad pun but it’s six in the morning and I can’t be clever till after my coffee)

This morning we are heading out to the riverfront to reinterview one of the girls I talked to last summer.  I’m hoping we’ll be able to find her again after seeing her on Sunday.  I wonder how things have changed for her in the last seven months.  I guess it’s time to get going.  Time waits for no one.

Later….

We find our young woman curled up under a blanket on the stone wall by the river.  Her friend spots us coming and unceremoniously yanks her blanket off and tells her to get up.  She smiles sleepily and washes up.  We start the interview, but it isn’t long before we’ve gathered a huge crowd of people – some pulling up on motto bikes to watch “Hollywood” in action.  There is nothing more obnoxious than the sound of a motorbike engine on a boom mike and we have to move the whole operation down to the river itself.  The theory being that no one wants to tromp down the nasty, litter strewn stairs to the polluted river after us.  And you know what?  It works. 

Sadly, not much has changed for this girl.  Life has continued on for her – sleeping in the streets, selling flowers during the day.  But there’s been some new attention and not the good kind.  She tells us foreigners have started to approach her and entice her into having sex with them.  It’s an unsettling fact of life that Scott confirms for me later.  Many of the girls selling flowers are prime targets for unsavory western men.  At fifteen, she is now considered an adult  - it is the age of sexual consent here in Cambodia.  Consent I think – is a relative term here.

After we thank her for talking to us again, we pack up and head over to CCF.  We interview Scott about his new programs: The agricultural school and the toddler day care for 3 to 6 year olds.  Of course, we all think of Linna and hope that she may get in.  It is not a sure thing – the reality is that Linna has a mother and is relatively cared for and fed.  She also has Charam looking out for her.  In short, compared to some of the toddlers at the dump who are picking garbage and are left alone – she doesn’t have it that bad.  It is a tough call and a tough reality.

Next on the agenda is Charam’s photography class.  A huge gang of kids laugh and jostle each other as they pile into a tuk tuk and head off to the park to practice taking digital photos.  We tag along and the kids take great fun in taking our picture taking their picture.  Charam is a natural (but I may be biased J). I’m amused to see the girls all taking pictures of flowers and the boys all taking pictures of themselves hanging out on the stone wall flashing the peace sign.   We finish the day at CCF by filming the kids in a time lapse pushing pins into a map to show us where they are from.  It’s a fun film activity that the kids really get into.

Our last task of the night is to go to the market and buy rubber boots for tomorrow.  We’re heading to Stung Meanchy, the city dump, in the morning and I’ve been trying to prep Dennis and Megan for the horrible smell and horrible scene.  Tomorrow is a two-part experience.  We’re going in the early morning to capture some footage of the kids at work.  Then we’re heading back at night.  Scott is insisting on providing an armed escort of two police to come with us.  The dump at night is far more dangerous than the day and he wants to make sure we are protected.  I’m certainly not going to object but there is some irony in four grown adults needing protection in a dark world where eight year olds are picking garbage with flashlights strapped to their heads.  I appreciate the need to protect my crew from robbery or physical violence.  But I can’t help but think long after we have gone – these children will remain.  Working through the night.  And they need protection too.

(Wednesday)
March 28

Motto drivers are a romantic lot.  I can tell how Cambodian I’ve become because I now think nothing of jumping on the back of a motto bike, helmet-less, to zip haphazardly through the streets of Phnom Penh to get where I am going.  The side effect of riding a lot of mottos where you must cling to your driver is that you get asked out a lot.  The writer in me has had a blast devising a wonderful cover story about my long and happy marriage with a large, jealous bodybuilder.

It was a bit hard getting up this morning as Art and I were up late last night meeting old friends for drinks - our soundman from last summer and Ny, our translator met us at a bar.  We were all glad to see one another and catch up.  Ny is now working at an orphanage and Sophy is working for BBC.  Megan had a headache and decided not to join us.  Much to Art’s amusement, Sophy’s girlfriend literally squealed at the TOP of her lungs when she heard Megan Follows was our narrator and was with us on the trip.  Apparently, she is a huge Anne of Green Gables fan and started spouting lines from the movies.

A little levity is always needed to help clear my mind before I write about Stung Meanchy.  We got an early start this morning with a 5:30 am wake up call.  We were hoping to get to the dump before the sun rose too high in the sky and the heat and smell became unbearable.  The last several times I have been to the dump, I have to confess we have hurried through our shots because the atmosphere was almost too much to bear.

I spent the better part of the ride warning Dennis and Megan how horrible it would be.

Next time I go – I’ll have to try the same method of anticipating the worst and winding up pleasantly surprised.  Let me clarify.  Certainly pleasant is never a word that goes hand and hand with Stung Meanchy.  But a heavy blanket of clouds rolled in and never left.  Shielded from the sun and blessed with a slight breeze – it was bearable.  Without the scorching sun, the smell wasn’t as bad and the breeze kept the hundreds of flies away.  Dennis and Megan totally lucked out.  Dennis told me he really didn’t mind not getting the full effect.

The positive side to this was that we were really able to spend time getting footage that will help highlight what these kids have to deal with.  In the span of a few hours, we came across a variety of the things the kids told us they find on a regular basis.  Syringes, medical waste, broken glass….. we also found part of a femur bone that for a horrifying moment we thought may be human, but it turned out to be a cow.  We were apparently lucky – a boy standing nearby told us he had found a dead baby two days before and that morning had buried a hand he had found.  I really have no response.  What do you possibly say to a child who deals with that on a day-to-day basis?  I handed him a granola bar and felt totally inadequate. 

We wandered further along and came across several piles of burning debris.  The garbage will spontaneously combust in various spots and the thick black smoke hazes over the dump.  Megan and I both had headaches from the fumes and I can’t imagine the effects on the lungs of the children who live here.  Our sound man told us the people here toss heavy plastic bags on the flames because the bags are woven through with thin metal wire which can be sold once the plastic is burned off.  We watch as one boy approaches a grimy large scale being overseen by a woman with a wad of Rels, the local currency.  She weighs his trash and peals off a few bills amounting to around .25 cents for him.  Our soundman informs us she will sell it later for three times the profit.  The young man will spend that entire amount on something to eat.  Then he’ll fill another bag again.

We leave the dump after 3 hours because we plan to return this evening after dark.  Many of the kids spoke to us about the horror and dangers of working in the dump at night and I think it is important to be able to capture what they are talking about.  So we took an easy afternoon to get ready for this evening.  We’ll be stopping off at the airport first to pick up a late arrival - Theresa Kennedy my still photographer and friend who came with me on the very first trip to Cambodia, has decided she doesn’t want to miss the final chapter in our saga here and has taken three planes to Cambodia to join us.  There are not many people who would trek halfway around the world to such a destitute place for only five days in order to hang out in the dump at night with a police escort.  She’s one of a kind. (And perhaps a little crazy) J 

While I caught up on my shooting schedule paperwork in my coffee haunt with Megan – Art went out to the riverfront to shoot some B roll.  He arrived shortly after, looking flustered.  Apparently a crazy Australian man was harassing him and following him around insinuating cruel and nasty things and basically verbally abusing him.  He also was telling the street kids we had been talking with to stay away from us.   I got completely riled up and stomped off with Art to go find this jerk that had been loitering around near the riverfront where our river girl from yesterday and Charam’s mother and Linna had been hanging out.  I was ready to give this fellow a piece of my mind and Art wasn’t feeling so charitable either.  Alas, he was gone when we arrived (which is probably a good thing) and I sat with the girls on the river front with Linna on my lap and asked if this man had been bothering them or hurting them.  They said no and one girl who spoke good English said he was just a crazy guy.  I told them to tell us if he bothered them in any way and then asked the girl to asked Yorn how she was feeling.  Yorn told me she was going to a clinic tomorrow for a baby check up and asked if I would go with here.  Unfortunately, I can’t, as I have an interview scheduled with the Cambodian Children’s Defense League.  But I told her I would meet her in the morning and give her enough money for the appointment.

I’m sitting here in my hotel taking a break and contemplating how much laundry I have to wash in the sink - which is not a very attractive prospect.  Even less attractive is that in less than an hour – I’ve got to put back on the disgusting clothes I wore to the dump earlier - and head back again.  A different world waits when the sun goes down there.  It’s time to tread a little carefully.

Our Wednesday night evening at the dump has not gotten off to a very positive start.  We first headed out to the airport to pick up Theresa, who was flying in from Bangkok after a long layover in Hong Kong.  Art and I began to suspect something was wrong when the entire flight walked past us with no sign of my intrepid photographer, who was flying halfway around the world just to film a dump at night.  I convinced a guard to let me into the baggage area.  Theresa is easy to spot and its not just because no one else in a 50 mile radius has bright red hair.  Disturbingly, she is at the lost luggage counter being told they have NO idea where her suitcase is.  It’s been missing since Hong Kong and she had to beg them to let her on the plane because they couldn’t match her with a bag.  So I’m lucky she is here – but she’s got the clothes on her back and her camera (thank God)

And since we are heading to the dump – she’s not thrilled to not have a change of clothes.

We stop at CCF to pick up Scott and he breaks out some extra threads he’s got on hand.  Of course, we are at a children’s shelter – so it isn’t long before Theresa is decked out in a tee shirt and a pair of army pants three sizes to small.  She tells Scott it’s been a long time since she had the body of a 14-year-old boy.  The army pants are so tight; she literally has to back into the van and sort of lean up into the seat.  You can’t pay for entertainment this good.  Art and I have fun by making enough suggestive comments to make her blush (not hard to do with a redhead) and we’re off to pick up our police protection for the evening.  When we get a look at these guys, we know that no one is gonna mess with us.  They are armed with AK 47 automatic rifles and look fairly intimidating.

It isn’t long before we arrive in a surreal world.  The darkness covering the 11 acres of rotten rubbish is pierced in hundreds of places by the thin white lights coming from the headlamps of the workers as they sift through the debris during the night shift.  The orange glow from the trash fires silhouette the workers while the thick black smoke rises behind them.  It is busier than I expected and there are a ton of boys.  Apparently, it is far more dangerous for girls at night to fall prey to predators, so boys make up much of the work force this evening.  We spot a girl here and there and can’t help but notice those who are resting in makeshift enclosures right on top of the piles. 

A bulldozer roars to life and barrels into the piles of garbage with little concern for the people how scatter frantically out of the way.  Several large dump trucks also pile onto the scene and we see one man nearly get run over in his effort to move out of the way.  It becomes a tricky business to maneuver with the camera and light to get action shots of the truck without losing our footing.  It’s a little too close for comfort for Fiona, CCF’s nurse and Annabel, CCF’s office manager, who have come with us.  They shout warnings at us to watch out for the truck as they also dance out of the way.

I hand a granola bar to a young boy who is working near me and he unwraps it with slimy black hands and shoves it into his mouth.  I wonder - not for the first time – how I can possibly work with someone to get above ground, fresh water tanks into the dump.  It is blazing hot, even this late at night and all of us are guiltily looking forward to a cold bottle of water.  Such a simple pleasure – denied to these workers.

We head back and crash for the night. Theresa has been up for over 30 hours and longingly remembers everything locked in her suitcase somewhere in the Twilight Zone of Cathay Air. 

(Thursday)
March 29

This morning we interview Prey Vannak, director of the children’s rights office for the Cambodian League of Human Rights.  He speaks eloquently and passionately about the issues facing the children.  Sex trafficking, lack of access to health care, domestic abuse and lack of education are all serious issues that need attention and activism.  He is a strong advocate and a great interview.  I’m happy to have him on board.

We spend the rest of the day interviewing five street kids.  Amazingly enough – things continue to come full circle when two of the girls in the group of street children were two of the kids Theresa and I took to breakfast over a year ago.  They are in the photo on the web entitled “Table For Five”  We also spot another young woman we interviewed last summer and make plans to talk to her again to see what is happening in her life.  She doesn’t have her niece on her hip – whom she was caring for the last time we saw her and I wonder where she is.   We stop off to see Yorn and Linna this morning as well, before Yorn heads to her doctor’s appointment. Linna races up to me chanting Mak Tor.  Thary, my interpreter, tells me this means “second mother”. She also informs me that Yorn has told her several times she wants me to take the new baby when it is born.  I tell my translator to tell her the baby’s place is with her and that she is my Cambodian family.  I will make sure she is taken care off.  I’m thinking it can’t be much to set her up with a roadside store with goods she can sell, like so many of the vendors I have seen.  It may be a way to get her started on the road to self-sufficiency and decide to talk it over with Scott later.

I’m writing this from my favorite coffee shop – alone for the moment - my crew heads off without me to a nearby lake in the city to film a sunset.  I have a meeting with Scott Neeson CCF and must miss this little venture and trust my crew to handle it on their own.  My motto guy, Ian, is hanging out waiting to take me to CCF and I discover his devotion is not amorous.  My sound guy informs me that the $2 I have been paying him is 100 times what I should.  On one hand – man, I’m overpaying again.  On the other – I have been his only customer all day long.  If I only paid him .25 cents, it’s hardly enough to get a bite to eat.  I can spare the two dollars.

(Friday)
March 30

Has it already been a week since we arrived in Phnom Penh?   Each time I’ve been here before, time seems to stand still.  When you spend each day focusing constantly on the harsher realities of the plight of the street and garbage children, sometimes the days can seem very long and draining.  It’s been a fast eight days this time around.  Partly because we came here with such a specific agenda - to get certain things I need to finish the project and we’ve been working hard to meet those goals.  I believe the other reason is the size of our group this time around.  With so many of us here – it’s been an interesting and thought-provoking dynamic and has helped the shoot and time go more smoothly.

Yesterday was our main CCF day.  We spent the entire day at CCF talking with staff and filming the kids in their new environment.  It’s something else to watch Hov Nygan shouting and dashing around volleyball court with other boys – smiling, handsome, healthy – and picture him as I first saw him.  Covered in flies and filthy clothing, digging through trash in Stung Meanchy. 

We are present for the weekly kids and staff meeting and it’s amusing to see all 130 kids crammed into the main room downstairs laughing and cheering at the top of their lungs as Scott and the staff hand out awards for school:  best student, most improved, most kind, etc.  The kids really get into it as third and second place are announced and then shout and clap for the winner who receives a plaque and some spending money as a prize.  After the awards, the kids line up and Scott, Fiona and Annabel dish out ice cream.  It is everyone’s favorite part of the week.

Speaking of week, it’s almost been a week since Theresa last saw her luggage when she dropped it off in LAX Monday evening.  She’s talked to everyone under the sun and they are fabulously helpful at passing the buck.  So she treks off in the afternoon - back to the airport to try and solve the issue.  After three hours standing at different counters, they tell her they still have no idea where it could be.  Which is surprising, in light of the fact that while she was there inquiring, they were calling me on my cell to say they have found the bag in Hong Kong.  Not the most organized airport in the world.  They assure me it will be on a plane the next day.  Hopefully, it will be a plane to Phnom Penh.

I’m also on my third cell phone of the trip.  My first is under a ton of garbage in Stung Meanchy.  The second was getting a little weird.  I kept receiving phone calls for a guy named Wicked.  I was told by my Cambodian fixer to simply say – “Call Wicked- I know nothing else about the situation.”  Then late at night I got a text messaged saying “Mr. Man dead.  Meeting HIV team to burn the body.”

I told my Cambodian fixer it was time for a different phone.

Friday evening we were treated to an amazing performance.  The children put on a show on their stage on the rooftop for PEPY, an NGO that sets up bike rides though rural villages delivering school supplies.  In full traditional costumes, the children performed Monkey Dance, Coconut Dance and Traditional Movement Dance.  It was a proud and strutting Charam, bare-chested with make up, who performed Monkey Dance for the first time.  It was beautiful and fascinating.  Afterward he came dashing up and jumped up in my arms to give me a hug and make sure I was proud of him.  That’s an understatement. 

Then the kids performed a play they had written about an alcoholic father who sells his daughter to a brothel.  There is, thankfully, a happy ending, but the fact they wrote it to perform was a little disturbing.  Theresa quietly noted that you write what you know. 

Afterwards, the children, happily taking our attention and praise, surrounded us.  Theresa put her digital camera around Charam’s neck and we both were touched and amused as he fussed taking pictures like a true professional – adjusting his frame and lighting.  The pictures came out so well, Theresa announced she could head home.

We headed instead to a bar/restaurant called Elsewhere with Fiona and Annabel to decompress from the day.  Sitting outside on a circular, flat platform with pillows by a small pool – it felt like a night out in Los Angeles.  Later – Fiona and Annabel bought Theresa and I down to a bar on a boat on the riverfront where apparently all the white western NGO workers come to hang out, drink and forget about the issues they deal with on a day-to-day basis.  It is an interesting dynamic.  Here is a group of young people desperately trying to change the situation here in Cambodia.  They are also a huge part of keeping the economy afloat because of the money they inject into society.  They try to forget and on the boat it is easy to think they are in a trendy city.  Yet circling among them, well known to all, is a street girl selling roses.  It is the same routine every night.  It is midnight and they are drinking and this girl is up selling.  Inevitability, someone will fork over money to buy the entire bunch of roses so she will be able to go home and go to bed.  Tonight that person is Fee.  It is not a great solution, because with such a receptive client, she will be back the next night doing the same time.  But at least she’ll get home earlier tonight.

(Saturday)
March 31

Theresa finally gets the call she has been waiting for.  Her luggage has finally arrived at Phnom Penh airport and is ready to be picked up.  She heads out to the airport for the third time since she has arrived, to claim it.  However – she can’t actually get in it!  Someone along the way has slapped on a universal TSA lock without the universal key anywhere in sight.  So one pair of pliers and two dedicated airline workers later – she’s finally in possession of her tripod and underwear.

Meanwhile, we’re on the prowl for more kids to interview.  I ran into another girl I had interviewed last summer who talked of her harsh life on the streets – of dead family and being raped by foreigners.  Still looking worn down from life, she agrees to interview again, but when we find her she is in the company of an older, tough looking Cambodian guy in his late twenties.  She tells us not only is she now married, but also she is expecting a child.  The husband is not pleased she is talking to us and spends a lot of time glaring.  We interview a book-selling boy first and plan on interviewing her second.  As always, there is a crowd of street kids watching us the whole time.  They suddenly scatter in a dozen different directions.  A policeman is rapidly approaching us, yelling in Khmer.  I quickly whip out my permit ready to defend our turf – but it turns out he is yelling at the kids.  Apparently, along the street we are filming, the King of Cambodia is due to drive down in a few minutes and they don’t want unsightly, dirty, homeless children spoiling the picturesque scene by the national museum.  We are told we can have five minutes to finish before we must push off as well.  We comply, not in any mood to tick off people preparing for the king.

After a lunch, in which Art sent back every glass they brought us twice because of the presence of previous users on them, and his napkin, which was crusted with food, we break for a short while.  I must go to the travel agent for what feels like the twentieth time this week to work on ticket issues. Art heads to the market to buy gifts for our kid’s families at the dump village.  Megan has returned from Siem Reap and both she and Theresa are chomping at the bit to do some late evening/early night photography at the village.  We arrive at CCF in order to film all the kids getting on Tuk Tuks to head back to see their families.  Layseng and Hov Nygan are among them. Art sees that there is room on one of the Tuk Tuk’s to ride and film the children so he makes the decision to hop aboard.  It turns out to be a good one when the Tuk Tuk is let through an intersection, but we are stopped and diverted in the other direction due to the royalty and the crowds pouring in for Election Day tomorrow.  Because I only vaguely remember the way to the village, I am relieved Art is on board getting footage and not losing time as we wind our long way through the detour to the dump.  When we arrive, I attempt to find our way through the dump, but we are hindered by a huge sinkhole.  A young girl asks what we are doing and it turns out she knows Layseng and for a few dollars she hops in our van to show us the way.  We are duly grateful, but I can’t help but be alarmed at the ease with which we lured this girl into our employ and she simply hopped into a van with five white strangers.  It is a reminder it is very easy here for a child to fall victim to exploitation.

When we finally find the village, it is quite a scene.  Art has a crowd of about two dozen dirty little children all around him.  Apparently, he was giving out candy and the word has spread.  They all spot the rest of us and come tearing over.  Within minutes, we find ourselves holding hands with the kids as they parade through with us to Layseng’s house.  I introduce myself to Layseng’s parents again and present them with 2 cases of noodles.  We make plans to visit them tomorrow during the day to interview them and go in search of Hov Nygan’s family.  Art is madly slapping flies away from his legs with his camera cap and I suspect he is regretting: 1 - his shorts and 2 - not putting Deet on.  Since I’ve been wearing the toxic bug cream for a week, it’s practically leeching permanently through my skin by now and the bugs leave me alone.  Perhaps Art simply tastes better.  I’m not complaining. J

Theresa and Megan are in their glory, running about the village filming this interesting slice of society.  The dump village is its own little city unto itself - with little stores, burning cook stove fires and carnival games set up with bright lights powered off small battery packs.  Kids are laughing and throwing darts, trying to break balloons and win prizes.  The large carnival stuffed animals you would see at any theme park line the tables.  There are two pool tables and a small gambling area under a tin roof off to the side and the men lounge, drink and play.  One drunken fellow takes the time to tell Theresa, Megan and I not to worry because we will be safe here and staggers off.  However another is not a happy drunk.  He is busy yelling loudly at his wife and Thary, our translator, quietly advises us to move quickly away.

We give hugs to all the kids around us and say goodnight, slowly working our way back toward our truck.  Once in the van, I look at dismay at my sneakers, which are covered in a sketchy, slimy substance and decide they are never leaving Cambodia.  Megan cannot wait to get into a shower and all of us are looking forward to a close encounter with a bottle of Purell sanitizer.  It takes us longer to get back than expected, because the city is crammed with people - due to the elections tomorrow.  However, we are told by our Cambodian friends that the “democratic” elections are really nothing of the sort.  It is expected the Cambodian People’s Party will win and that it is rigged.  Like the street children being swept off the street and out of the view of the king, apparently real democracy is not something the current government wants in sight.

Thank God for our own freedom.  May we never take it for granted.

(Sunday)
April 1

Theresa screams likes a girl.  (She just said – I AM a girl, thank you.)  We’re on top of the roof of the FCC or French Colonial Club having drinks with some Cambodian friends, Borom and Ny, and celebrating the end of the shoot - when a gecko drops off the ceiling and lands on her arm.  We’re all having fabulous conversation when a piercing high-pitched scream cuts through the air and Theresa jumps madly off her bar stool.  All I can think is she’s gotten stung by something deadly, because really, what else could possibility go wrong for the woman while she is here.  But it’s only a small little gecko who is unceremoniously flung from her arm over the railing of the rooftop to perish in the Tuk Tuk strewn street below.

This may be a premature celebration to the end of the shoot.  Technically, we’ve gotten all the shots and interviews I came here for, but we still have not managed to get up early enough to catch the street kids actually sleeping.  In my desperation and madness, I’ve agreed to get up at 4 a.m. to make this last final shot happen. And anyone who knows me realizes the real madness lies with the poor individuals who have to be with me at 4 a.m.

Today was a long shoot day – mentally, physically and emotionally.  We spent the first half of the day in the village in the dump interviewing Hov Nygan and Layseng's families.  It’s a numbing experience. The village is in the middle of the dump and the only thing that separates the main dump from the village are the rudimentary make shift wooden huts dotting the landscape.  The stagnant water pools in various spots and brown pieces of cardboard are strewn flat with bits of old food on them.  I can’t tell if they are food prep places or deliberate squares left to attract flies and keep them in a central location.  There are literally thousands of flies thickly swarming around us.  A small dust devil suddenly kicks up and swirls a ton a garbage about 200 feet into the air.  Talk about an unusual tornado.  We stop the interview we are conducting to video this strange sight. 

Three little kids are hanging off of me.  One little boy has wrapped his legs and arms around my right leg and is holding on for dear life.  Another little imp, who is barely 20 pounds, has grasped my upraised arm holding my video monitor and is dangling there with her feet in the air.  The last little boy is busy rifling through my pockets.  A direct result, I am sure, of Art giving out candy yesterday when we arrived.  Every child is covered in scabs and lice and I itch madly suspecting that any moment I too will be infected.  A little boy standing in front of me with watery eyes and green mucus coming out of his mouth sneezes violently and wipe his face on his grimy sleeve.  The infection rate here must be out of control.  All the kids look so sickly.  I am depressed beyond words to spot a little girl with a shaved head and open wounds covering her scalp watching me from nearby.  Hov Nygan’s mother proudly holds up her finger covered with ink where she has just voted and ironically it is the middle finger.  Which is symbolic of the sham elections happening today.  I know this poor desperate woman took the time to vote today for a party that cares little for the people languishing in this garbage hovel and probably dropped off several bags of rice to convince them to vote.  I wouldn’t mind giving them the finger myself and mine certainly wouldn’t have ink on it.

(Monday)
April 2

It’s a bittersweet morning in many ways – today is the final day of my shoot and once we wrap – I will have finished the production end of this amazing journey.  I know it will be a while before I will make it back to Cambodia.  I have a bit of Cambodia coming to me that will keep me in the states for the time being.  Lyda, one of the CCF dump kids, has become my ward and will be coming to the United States for surgery on her curved spine.  Though I am thrilled to have her experience the United States – the seriousness of the surgery and the responsibility the CCF has entrusted to me weighs on my mind.  I cannot bear to think I will be away more than a year from Charam, Hov Nygan, Linna and the other children and know I will have to find a way to visit before long.

I wasn’t feeling very bittersweet at 4 a.m. when we started filming.  In a last ditch attempt to actually catch people sleeping in this city, we’ve gotten up progressively earlier.  Alas – apparently no one does.  In fact, at 4 a.m. there’s actually a BBQ going on by the royal palace.  Even the rats are out.  One unlucky frisky fellow learns the early bird doesn’t always want the worm as a large hawk-like bird carries him off.  Art and I are not particularly enthusiastic about being up and are not really happy with the footage we are getting, so we call it a night (or morning) we both fall back into bed and the shoot comes to a rather unglamorous end.  But our last day in Phnom Penh is just beginning.  Art takes off with Borom, our Cambodian fixer and Theresa, Megan, Dennis and I decide to try our luck on a riverboat.  We run into Scott in the local coffee shop and he advises us to thoroughly check out the boat before we get on it.  With that rousing bit of advice, we tramp off down the riverfront and hurry on the boat as fast as we can because the open sewer drain pouring into the river encourages us to move quickly.  The ride up the river, however, is peaceful and beautiful.  Here on the river, far away from the reality of the city streets, Phnom Penh looks beautiful and green from our vantage point on the boat.  Dennis buys a bag of some type of Oreo cookie knock off and Megan and I nearly spit our cookie out at the strong, odd chemical flavor.  They have apparently been on the boat for quite some time and would likely last longer than a cockroach if there was a nuclear attack.

I take my leave of the gang after the ride and head to CCF.  I have a meeting with Scott, Fiona and Lyda to explain to her what is going to happen next month when she will be leaving everything that is safe and familiar to her and going to a strange country for surgery.  Lyda will be staying with a host family in Brentwood. There is some irony in the fact that a girl who has lived in a dump most of her life will be living in Brentwood for a year.  Fiona, our favorite Scottish pediatric nurse at CCF, will stay with her the first couple of weeks to meet with the doctors and settle her in as she gets used to spending all her time with me and the host family.  Afterwards, I take Lyda, Charam, Meng Ly and Leakhena out for burgers and fries.  Charam orders a cheeseburger but it sits untouched as he finishes his fries.  I ask him why he isn’t eating the burger and he tells me he is saving it for his little sister Linna, who I am picking up after lunch for a visit.  I love this boy.  How sweet and thoughtful is that?  I assure him I will order a meal for Linna to go and he needs no further invitation and wolfs down the burger as only a 12 year old can.  When the kids are finished, I drop off everyone but Charam at CCF and head to his family’s street corner.  Fiona has arranged for a midwife to come to CCF and examine Yorn to make sure the baby is okay.  On the way, I have to tell Charam I am leaving in the morning and he falls silent and turns his face away.  I already dread having to say good-bye in the morning. 

Yorn gratefully comes with me to CCF and receives a full check up including an ultrasound.  To Charam’s delight – we find out he is going to have a little brother.  Yorn tells me when I return the baby will be big and strong.  I can only hope this will be the case.  Even with monitoring by the CCF, there is a very good chance she will give birth on the street and she has already lost several children.

I bring Yorn and Linna back to their street corner and have tell Yorn of my plans to set her up with her own drink business so she can start earning money on her own.  Annabel has agreed to help me get this started and Yorn is very pleased.  I tell her I am leaving and will return when I am able.  Linna jumps in my arms and hugs me tight.  “Mak Tor, Mak Tor” she says.  A year has never seemed so far away.

(Tuesday)
April 3

(Wednesday)
April 4

Vanta, our Tuk Tuk driver is waiting outside the hotel, as usual, to see us off to the airport.  We are running late and I’m already feeling a bit nervous.  While the others are flying home – Megan and I are flying to Koh Chang Island via Bangkok for a few days and the plane we are going on is a small propeller type plane.  While I have mostly conquered my fear of flying, I am prone to set backs when my plane resembles a wind up toy.  Dennis pulls out a deck of Tarot cards and I manage to pull out the card of courage, which is a lot better than the airplane crashes card as Art helpfully pointed out.  What a nice guy - who capped off our shoot the night before at dinner by ordering and eating a plate full of tarantulas.  Trust my DP to find a way to wig me out one last time before we wrap.

We make it to the airport with very little time to spare and Megan and I literally walk right onto our flight once we get through security.   The plane to Bangkok is a small jet but when we transfer in Koh Chang and are bussed out to that little plane I am not the best of company for Megan.  Nothing is more embarrassing than having phobias in front of friends.  But Megan is sweet and distracts me from the propellers, which are helpfully right out my window seat.  The airport we land at, the Trat airport, is so small it doesn’t even have a terminal.  Just a platform with a roof.  In short order we are on a ferry to the island and all our stress of the emotionally draining shoot just falls off of us.  The island is beautiful and we are staying in a little bungalow right by the beach.  We watch the sun go down over the bath water warm ocean and simply relax.  It is both peaceful and desperately needed.

Wednesday  - Megan and I decide to do something a little different and trek out to the elephant jungle experience in the mountains.  We have signed up for a 2-hour ride through the jungle by elephant.  The guide book says that the elephants are mostly older elephants who no longer farm but Megan and I get stuck with the 16 year old surly teenage elephant who delighted in giving us a bit of a thrill ride.  At one point down the steep trail she picked up two feet off the ground and leaned so far to the right, I thought Megan might go right over the side.  From the look on Megan’s face – she was pretty much thinking the same thing.  The jungle was beautiful and even more so when it started to rain.  The German family on the other two elephants immediately whipped out the umbrellas that were provided but Megan and I found something very appealing about riding in the rain on the back of an elephant through the wet forest.

We didn’t know exactly how wet we were going to get.  We came to a small river that drained in and out with the tide of the ocean.  The elephants tramped on into the water and we shortly came to a high platform.  Our guide asked us if we could swim and if we wanted to ride the elephant into the deep water.  The German family declined but we were game.  I think the family thought we were insane.  And frankly, so did the elephant as she proceeded to pee and poop into the water while the guide was taking off her saddle.  The thought that we were going to swim in that river with the elephant and the elephant’s recent contribution to nature got us giggling so bad we could barley stand up on the platform.  When in Rome I guess….

Megan was reassured by the fact that they do this all the time and had up many fun pictures of elephants standing shoulder deep in the river with the happy looking tourists sitting on their backs.  Our surly girl had other ideas.  When we got to the middle of the river, she promptly and deliberately tucked her head, dropped her knees and threw all three of us off her back.  The guide was back on in a second sputtering and shouting commands at the elephant.  Megan and I climbed back on in time for a photo by another guide standing on the shore when Surly Girl rolled to her left and dumped us again.  If you have ever fallen off a boat and tried to pull yourself back on you know how hard that can be.  Now try doing that on the back of a multi ton elephant who has decided she is finished with photo ops for the day while elephant dung floats nearby.  For the guide on the shore – it is a hilarious twenty minutes of Megan and I getting thrown off the elephant and getting back on.  He has my video camera in hand and the footage is more than PG as we sputter and cuss and grab onto handy body parts in an effort to right ourselves.  The German family watches from a distance and I am sure they will have great fun telling friends back home about the foolish American and Canadian.  We finally get back on and I grab hold of our guide  - telling him in no uncertain terms - if we go off again, he’s gonna come with us.  Despite how exhausting it is we are having a ball and trying not to think of Malaria and Tapeworm.

When we finally get back on the platform the guides apologetically tells us all the other elephants simply LOVE having the tourists in the water on their backs.  Lucky for us – we just managed to get Surly Girl.  She eyeballed us on the platform and nudged us with her truck.  Whether it was a peace offering or an attempt to pull us off  - I don’t know.  We got back in the saddle and headed back – soaking wet. 

I’m now sitting on the porch while Megan is trying to pick out the photos we want to post that show us in a somewhat flattering light.  I’ve used an entire bottle of purell on my body after the hottest shower even and rinsed my mouth with half a bottle of Listerine.  The only vaguely body cleansing item we had was some airborne tablets Megan had in her bag so between that and the beer we’re drinking  - we hope to knock off any germs.  But you know what – it was totally worth it.  :)

(Thursday)
April 5

(Friday)
April 6

Megan and I woke this morning feeling like we’d just wrestled an elephant.  I was also sporting an assortment of bruises from my encounter with Surly Girl and looking forward to tackling nothing more challenging than schools of fish while snorkeling the coral reefs off the Thailand coast.

We were picked up by our boat guide – a young dude in snazzy oversized board shorts, designer sunglasses and beads around his neck, proving that beach boys are the same the world over.  We were joined by a very nice French couple, Bart and Isobel, and all of us piled into the speedboat, which was ours for the day.  The reefs were a good half an hour away by speedboat and the four of us commandeered the front of the bow delighting in the power of crashing through the waves.  In short order we were at one of three dive spots for snorkeling and quickly donned our gear.  The reefs were spectacular.  Rich, vibrant colors and fascinating, yet alien formations surrounded us at every turn.  Huge schools of colorful fish swam all around us, deftly swarming around our bodies without touching  - a feat with literally hundreds schooling together.  I saw a Tim Tum swim by  - a colorful orange fish I had eaten for dinner the night before and it had been rather tasty.  However, thinking about eating the fish while swimming with them in their world was perhaps a less than charitable thought toward the spectacular nature around me so I squashed it.  Until dinnertime. :)

Megan – who has never snorkeled before was thoroughly enjoying herself.  Until she, unfortunately, swallowed a huge mouthful of seawater - it went downhill from there.  The seawater made her violently nauseous and combined with the subsequent speedboat travel to the next spot – she had a less than enjoyable remainder of the afternoon.  She loved the snorkeling – but everything else in between pretty much sucked for her.  Our last stop off was at a rocky projection covered with monkeys.  The guide handed us pieces of watermelon to throw to them and I offered one to the slightly green looking Canadian leaning on the rail next to me. “Care to chuck a piece?”  I asked.

She gave me a wry look – “You might what to rephrase that,” she said grimly clutching her stomach.   I cautiously moved away.

We’re now back at the hotel and my exhausted companion is sleeping on the bed next to mine as I contemplate our long journey home tomorrow.  Refreshed and rejuvenated by my few days in this Island paradise among the green jungles and warm clear sea blue waters, I am ready to get going and get back in the editing room to finish work on “Small Voices”. The support of friends and family on this project has been amazing and as I wrap this final blog from this final production trip to Cambodia, I am reminded how fortunate I am to be surrounded by such amazing individuals who inspire and encourage me.  The last two years would not have been possible without you.

Peace,

Heather  

(Saturday)
April 7

Flight Home!