Ban Lung and Phnom Penh, Cambodia

Sweat is pouring off me. I hold a blade in my right hand and a look of inquisitive determination on my face. Cicada's screams cut through the thick jungle air and heavy sunlight hits my face in jagged slashes. Pushing aside huge fronds and stepping silently over fallen bamboo, one would never guess what lies in wait for me, hidden in the steamy tropics of north-eastern Cambodia- boat materials. I still think I should have been covered in war paint, bone necklace, wielding a machete rather than a Swiss army knife. Dan, Phil and I went on an overnight jungle trek into the little explored forests north of Ban Lung in Cambodia's Ratanakiri province. After a few hours on walking, we arrive at cam- a swimming hole with temperate green water and a wooden structure where we hang our hammocks. We held a boat competition- bonus points for aesthetics- the definite winner being Dan's beaut, a bark, bamboo and leaf contraption, christened Meatball.We had sauteed beef with fresh morning glory picked from the bank of the river and ate small fish that Nai our cook had caught with his net hung downstream from the camp. Cham our guide produced two small water bottles filled with locally made rice whisky, and the five of us shared one bamboo cup, sips of whisky moving around the circle, bananas serving as chasers, frogs and other nightlife waking around our tiny candle. We crawled awkwardly into our hammocks that had been hung almost on top of one another. Later I realized that this was for our own benefit, as was Cham's decision to intentionally place me between Dan and Phil (body heat). You wouldn't guess it would get the slightest bit chilly in a steamy Predator like set of a jungle, would you? In addition to the discomfort of being folded into the hammocks like a taco, blood rushing to our butts, the temperature caused the two boys to practically climb on top of me, a tricky maneuver considering we were hanging in individual hammocks. At some stage,during the endless night, Dan wore his extra boxers like a skull cal and our delirium provided respite from bitter cold and our own simple bitterness. Our freezing sleepless night led to a day of delirious giggling on the walk back to the villages. We left for Phnom Penh the next day, and then spent an uplifting Khmer Rouge inspired day at the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum and the Choeung Ek Killing Fields. Tuol Sleng, previously the Tuol Svay Prey High school before the 1975 revolution by the infamous Pol Pot, was then transformed into a prison/torture chamber. The museum contained thousands of photographs of prisoners deemed deviates of the revolution for one reason or another, including modern day testimonies of the guards who are alive today, and some of the instruments of torture. You can walk through the classrooms turned into cells, the ghosts of those brutally murdered hang in the air. The prisoners were executed outside of the city at Choeung Ek, a commemorative glass tower filled with all the skulls found in the mass graves and piles of clothing. All that remains of the mass graves are large indentation in the earth, new planets just breaking the surface of the water that pools there, evidence that life will prevail.