Brown birds on barbed wire, listen to them sing

Assorted pictures from Phnom Pehn, Cambodia -- shared for the sake of sharing.

Phnom Pehn, adorned and abandoned

Brown bird on barbed wire

Tuol Sleng genocide museum
Bocce Ball

Tuol Sleng genocide museum
Statues, Wat Ounalom

Sex, monkey?

On a wire!
Fat, monkey?

Snuggle, monkey?

Until Next Time, silly monkey.

Craters in the earth

I'm in Cambodia! Arrived safe and happy without dangerous gangsta action or harrowing traffic close-calls. My AC Bus left Saigon at 9am with 6 people on it, one of whom was a 20-something Canadian woman just finishing up a few months of solo travel, so there were nice chats. Of course, I slept on and off -- buses make me tired! -- and so maybe missed the best of the countryside, but such is life. I nevertheless have a profound respect and awe for the Cambodian countryside, just based on the few glimpses I had.

Monument to honor nothern Vietnamese women and children

Seen from across the Ben Hai river, dividing line between N and S VN
I've been heavily pre-occupied by the events of the war over the past few days. The literature I had finished, the countryside, a tour of the heavy-fighting and mining areas, interaction with American Vet sentiments and Communist framing of the war. The DMZ tour was a 12-hour day in a non-AC Bus; we drove for hours with the front door open, past stilt houses and old military bases. Light clay roads and resurgant vegetation. Good lord, it was hot. So hot. Damn hot. I don't mean to be crude, but I've never sweat so much in my life. Ever. More sweat than skin. And the monuments, the museums, the war relics and battlefields. It was a hazy, dehydtrated, sun-spotted excursion, to say the very least. And the peace of these places. They're so calm now. You're told about the brutality and the combat. But what's left is heat and dust and profoundly-worded monuments. There was a 'guestbook' at one of the museums on Khe Sanh Marine Base, a pretty gruesome place if I understand correctly. And the guestbook was full of diverse remarks, in language and subject matter and feeling. But a number of American soldiers wrote things like "I can't believe I'm back. This is not the place I remember," or "This was a Hell, and now it's a museum. Thank you." It was so shocking and so simple. I have never lived in war. I have never experienced that terror, and I probably never will. Reading books, hearing stories, seeing pictures and feeling sorry, I will never know war. I will never know what war does to people, I will never touch their experiences. I empathize, I conceptualize, I feel. I work towards an understanding of my freedom as the freedom of others. I work to see more deeply, to really comprehend. But I do not know war. These reminders are not war. They are reminders of war.

I do not think that is enough.

The mountains of the DMZ

We went into the tunnels at Vinh Moc. Entire villages lived underground for five years. Sleeping, peeing, praying, giving birth. Seventeen babies were born in the Vinh Moc tunnels. They are all alive today. Our tour group, of which my friend Kate and I were the only Americans, went 60 feet underground in these tunnels. The system as a whole is hundreds of kilometers long, three different depths, spanning the whole DMZ, linked by trenches. Pictures of the land at that time are terribly beautiful -- the Earth was so full of craters, it looked like the surface of the moon. The dirt came off the walls on our hands and shoulders, bent over and shuffling in the brown darkness. They had oil lamps, they had bandages. They had guns. And not much else.

Scratched graffiti on a tunnel wall

We visited Peace Trees the next day, an organization which de-mines and plants trees all throughout Quang Tri province, which is home to the DMZ and the most brutal battles and traps of the war. The visit was like candy, it was so sweet. Tragic, yes, as the mines that were left behind ended up claiming almost exclusively the lives and limbs of local children. But Quang Le, a beautiful man with a powerful story, has been working there for almost 12 years now, after decades of work in the US and at refugee camps in Thailand. He got out just after the war, but his wife and children were held by the Communist regime for years after. He says he did his work just to "keep his mind busy." Now, he's instrumental to the cause of "reversing the legacy of war." Building schools, educating de-miners, and children who live in mined areas. Giving scholarships, planting trees. He was a true boddhisatva, he really took care of my friends and I when we visited.

Peace Trees!

This land was barren just 11 years ago
Thank you, for being here. More on Cambodia tomorrow or the day after. And my impromtu Vietnamese homestay last night! It's a brand new world, and there's so much to learn.

Until Next Time, "Medical statistics will be our standard of measurement: we will weigh life for life and see where the dead lie thicker, among the workers or among the privileged."
- Rudolf Virchow, 1848

Pictures from a day in rural, central Vietnam

Visiting local schools, supported by Plum Village.
Looking in


Heavily bombed area, next to the "Highway of Great Danger"


Vietnamese landscape (yes, rice paddies) -- Green!


Monk on a colorful swing


Thich Nhat Hanh's father

from his ancestral temple, outside of Hue
Today is my last day with the delegation. I hardly know what to say.

Touring the DMZ tomorrow, Peace Trees on Monday, back to Saigon on Tuesday, Phnom Penh (Cambodia) on Wednesday.

Until Next Time: Hello, Deepening Roots of the Heart.

For peace, please

I'm in Hue! The ancient capitol of Vietnam, Hue is HUMID. The air is saturated, I'm sweating all the time. I've never lived in a climate like this. Of course, the pollution is so much less than in Saigon, I'm not close to complaining about a little wet heat, but WOW. The middle of the jungle baby.

Jungle and tombs under rain, Tu Hieu Temple

Hue is the closest city to the DMZ (De-militarized Zone), which remains the most heavily bombed piece of earth on this planet. I've been told that more bombs were dropped over Hue than in all of WWII, but that that with a grain of salt. I have not verified its validity myself.

Currently, I'm in the middle of reading 3 books -- Thich Nhat Hanh's Old Path White Cloud, an epic and simple re-telling of the Buddha's lifetime (they're making it into a movie!); Sr. Chan Khong's Learning True Love: How I learned and Practiced Social Change in Vietnam, a beautiful and tragic account of the events of the war anf of Thay's life during that period; and Tim O'Brien's The Things They Carried, for the second time. With regard to the last two, and a visit to the War Remnant's Museum (or, A Showcase of the Atrocities Laid Upon the Vietnamese People by US Imerialists), I am slowly formulating a sense for the real devestation of this war, and all wars. It's horrific, this kind of violence, and the inhumanity it instills. I can't believe the destruction. I never understood. Agent Orange is still wrecking havoc on this nation, babies are being born still today with terrible deformities due to exposure. Many of its older victims are begging here on the streets of Hue and in the temples where we go to practice. I won't describe them, but I'm completely humbled before it. The suffering here is enormous and all-encompassing and continual.

The response that keeps re-surfacing is Thank god for Thich Nhat Hanh. A leader, a visionary. He has it, you know? He's fighting the beauocracy, he's fighting with peace and love and compassion and understanding. Without resentment or cynacism or demand. He is fighting, and he will win. It may take many more generations, but his message is true. LOVE ALL BEINGS. PREVENT ALL POSSIBLE SUFFERING. ACT WITH COMPASSION. DO NOT KILL. DO NOT DISCRIMINATE. It's simple, it's true, it's the most basic sort of honest. I am grateful for him, the man, but I am most grateful for the message he is unafraid to spread. The communist officials here are breathing down his neck, they repressed him and killed his supporters for 30 years, but he's here and he won't stop fighting, with love and grace and dedication. It's amazing.

Tombs of old Masters at Tu Hieu temple

Hue is home to Tu Hieu, which is Thay's root temple. It's in the middle of the jungle, wet and crumbling and beautiful. He was here 64 years ago as a novice monk, he was 16 and he embarked on his path from this very place. I love it, I really do. He leads walking meditation and tea cermonies with unfettered joy here, you can see how much he loves being home. Still, the conservative sides of Buddhist tradition in Vietnam, the ones that abandoned Thich Nhat Hanh and his message when it became too radical and too dangerous to their hierarchy, they are very strong in this region. Everyone is feeling a little on edge about it, even thought this is Thay's true home. A nun friend told me that every one of the monastics is focusing their energy on slowly transforming their elders trough example and practice. Such a complex system for such a simple message.

Thay and his children, pure joy

I am in great spirits right now. I was having a lot of trouble feeling settled in Saigon -- the pollution, the stares, the anger -- but Hue is much clearer. My roommate and I were also at odds, but I actually found the power in myself in confront her about it and we talked and she really listened to my difficulties, and we were able to come to a real understanding. I'm sorry if I'm gushing about something very small, but this is a really incredible moment for me. I've never had such clear and open communication over anger and misunderstanding. I'm actually growing. And I feel lighter, I feel more capable. I feel love.

Monk feeding dogs

Also, there's a french boy, Unai, here with his parents, and he made friends with a Vietnamese orphan at Tu Hieu. They've been spending all their time together even though they don't even come close to speaking the same language, and it's really wonderful to see. Taking turns on the french boy's gameboy. Whacking a basketball back and forth with huge sticks of bamboo. Playing with stray dogs. Like a corny movie, I can't help but Awwwwww all over the place.

Unai and his friend

And otherwise, I'm still enjoying fruit, long walks through the city, cheap-everything, and the prospect of travel to come. I'll be done with this part of my trip (following Thich Nhat Hanh, that is) by the end of the week, and heading to Thailand, Singapore, and Cambodia not long after. Friends and friends of friends to visit, volunteer work, back-packing, sight-seeing! Ah, my happiness is abound. I'm free.

Mosaic dragon

I love you all, hope you and yours are absolutely terrifically happy.

Until Next Time, "Those eight days (the Tet offensive) were a turning experience for me. Seeing so much death and despair, I learned that we must resist war at any price. Once a war gets started, it has a momentum and intensity that are very hard to stop."
- Sr. Chan Khong, Learning True Love (READ THIS BOOK!)

Return to Saigon: the great requiem ceremonies

This photo was taken on the down low...

Cigarette-smoking monk

So I'm back in Saigon! We returned on the 14th, had the 15th for rest (and some crazy Asian ass-kicking massage!), and jumped straight into the Great Requiem Ceremonies on the 16th. A few of my friends from Segment 1 left on the 15th, I've been very sad to see them go. It's been like starting all over again. But it's also quite the practice. Helping me to focus on my meditation and personal awareness.

Chanting and crowd

Anyway, the ceremonies! BIG, long, hot, intense. Some crazy Vietnamese chanting and prayer. Thay's dharma talks were really powerful, though. Really deeply delving into impermanence and transformation. The dead never leave us, they only change form, they are not manifested physically but they are still with us. It was a beautiful 3-day theme. I still have so much trouble swallowing my cynicism when it comes to those other-worldly theories, but I'm starting to see that they're really much less other-worldly than I originally thought.

Bridge to the Dead at nightfall

The ceremonies were meant to call the dead, the hungry ghosts who have not found peace since the war, to this place and allow them to find peace. We directed them with the lotus-light candles, and encouraged their re-birth in peaceful states through chanting and food offerings.

Candle-lotus vigil

We released these candles into the very fragrant Saigon River
7,000 candle-lit lotuses, floating
I was really worried the whole river would ignite.
(The pollution is palpable)
The most powerful thing was the sheer volume of Vietnamese people in attendance. Thousands of people, chanting and praying and grieving. I still have grasped the enormity of it.

Food offerings to the Buddha and a monastic procession

I don't have too much to say, I guess. Catch-up day, rested all morning, heading into town for shopping and dinner in a few minutes.

Saigon feels like...

This city is crazy.

Fo reals.

Until Next Time, "We know that hell exists everywhere in the world. We vow to practice in order to not create more hells."