White Christmas

We're having a white Christmas here in the U.A.E... At least in the Mall of the Emirates at Ski Dubai where Alec and Taylor took some runs.

Video by Alec Perkins: Taylor at the indoor ski slope at the mall.

Recipes for Friendship

I make a pretty good chocolate chip cookie. I’ve made some TOP SECRET modifications that really improve the taste. Okay, just between you and me, I'll tell you what they are: I use very alcoholy Mexican vanilla, Muscova for the brown sugar and I make the chips by chopping up high-quality 70% cocoa bars.

But as yummy as these cookies are, they don’t hold a candle to Rolo cookies, a chocolate cookie with a caramel center that melts in your mouth. I wanted to make these for Christmas this year but realized they don’t sell cocoa OR Rolo candies in Abu Dhabi.

I got the recipe from my friend Ingrid in Phoenix. I always think of her when I make them. Through the years, I have been fortunate to have acquired a lot of terrific recipes from terrific friends and I think of them whenever I make their dishes. Here’s a few examples:

Kim’s Egg Casserole. Actually, it’s Kim’s mother’s egg casserole. This is the most perfect of delicious brunch dishes. I’ll be serving it Christmas morning and wondering if Kim is doing the same at her home in Nigeria.

Sue’s Lentil Soup. Although a bit time consuming, this soup is unbelievably good. I made a big pot of this last night and thought about Sue in Moscow.

Ivettte’s Salsa. At potlucks in Beijing, Larry would simply ask what Ivette brought and load up his plate with that. I once had a friend in Phoenix become highly agitated when I refused to share Ivette's Knock-Em Dead salsa recipe. But Ivette had sworn me to secrecy so don’t even ask. Ivette is hosting Houston’s best Christmas cocktail party at her townhome which Larry and I will regrettably miss this year.

Tracy’s Lasagne. My brother started making lasagna for Christmas Eve, a tradition I’ve continued using the very rich recipe he got while working at some restaurant during college. He went onto marry an excellent cook and I’ll be thinking of them and their children who are spending Christmas with my mom in Oklahoma.

Carol’s Hummingbird Cake. This is a lovely light-colored fruit-filled cake. And I don’t even LIKE fruit. Carol made it for book club and we liked it so much we practically forgot to discuss the book. She’s far away in Phoenix.

I am thinking of all my friends and family this holiday season. I’d love to send all of you chocolate chip cookies. But since I can’t, I’ll just have to send you my best wishes.

And when you use that artichoke spinach dip or pecan mini-muffin or chocolate cake recipe I gave you, think of me.

Happy Holidays!

Taking a Shine to Pearls

I took Alec and Loretta to the Abu Dhabi Cultural Center today where I'd heard they were holding an exhibit on pearl diving.

Pearl diving had been a very important part of Abu Dhabi’s economy. That is, at least until the Japanese convinced everyone that cultured pearls were not fakes. Australia, at one time, actually outlawed cultured pearls.

Once cultured pearls were accepted, Abu Dhabi's pearl market dried up and they dropped from one of the richest emirates to one of the poorest. They remained that way for years until they discovered all that oil which more than rectified the situation.

However, rather than dealing with Abu Dhabi, this exhibit was about the worldwide history of pearls. It included things like Barbara Bush’s pearl necklace which I thought was kind of weird as her pearls are notoriously FAKE. But they had plenty of gorgeous real pearls to make up for it. The $7 seed pearl bracelets from Vietnam I was wearing that day did not fare well in comparison.

Loretta and I picked out several examples of conch pearls we wouldn't mind finding under the Christmas tree. I was also especially attached to a very large tarantula broach. But really, where does one wear something like that? And museum exhibits aren’t really shopping opportunities. Or so I thought.

Then I overheard one woman trying to buy one of the pearl necklaces on exhibition. The official showing her and her contingent around tried to explain that these were part of a traveling exhibition and were not for sale but she just didn’t get it. “I want to buy this one,” she kept quietly insisting.

Would this work? Was he going to unlock the case and make up a price on the spot? No, he just led her and her group away suggesting a trip to Damas, a high-end local jewelry chain, where they wouldn’t be so fussy about selling the display items.

Photo: Five inch tarantula, made of gold and pearls, on display.

In Good Company

Photo: Ready for Christmas guests.

Having guests is a very big deal in the expat world. When you live in places like Moscow or Abu Dhabi, nobody just happens to be “passing through.” You are not a convenient vacation spot for them. They are visiting because they have made a serious time and financial commitment in order to see you.

So making guests feel welcome is very important. You cancel all your personal outside activities unless you think your guests would want to join you. (Would they want to go Power Walking along the Corniche at 7 a.m.? I’ll ask.)

Because I have guests! Loretta and Alec arrive tonight. I actually thought they were arriving last night. I booked their flights through Etihad Airline which unlike airlines in the rest of the world didn’t indicated that the arrival was +1 day. Only when Larry pointed out it was a physical impossibility for Alec to leave the morning of the 18th from Phoenix and arrive the evening of the 18th in Abu Dhabi, did I realize that I had another day to wait.

It did give me one more day to get my apartment ready. I needed the time because somehow my major appliances discovered that I had company coming and decided to fall apart. My drier refused to heat up and the door handle fell off the refrigerator. It took me 10 days to find someone to fix the drier, a tortuous process involving extensive networking on my part. Once I finally found an authorized guy, he showed up the same day, took 10 minutes to fix it, and only charged me US$10. I’m still waiting on a timetable for the refrigerator handle but I guess we can just eat out every meal!

The other good news is that so far the appliances have not told the plumbing I have company coming, so everything is still working there. They did get the word to my kitchen table which decided to fall apart too.

I had also hoped to get the lights in the living room straightened out. Even though we have three switches, all three overhead lights in that huge area are on the same switch. You flip it on and in the blaze of lights expect the inquisitions to start. Not the kind of cozy atmosphere you want for entertaining.

This project, however, will have to wait as my building’s electrician is back home in India to find a wife. I’m not sure how long that will take. I am hoping it is easier than finding someone who knows how to repair my drier.

Photo above: Our entryway where I am killing poinsettias.

Photo left: Even my Russian samovar is decked out for Christmas.

Waterlogged Weekend, Day Two

We were back at the beautiful Rotana Beach Hotel today for our final two open water dives for our SCUBA certification.

We started out by swimming 400 meters to demonstrate fitness. I was happy with this task as it involved no bulky equipment and no cold seawater. We just waded into the negative edge pool which was heated to about bathtub temperature.

Being a big proponent of Not Getting My Hair Wet, I am not use to swimming that far. In fact, the number one safety rule in our pool in Scottsdale was, “Don’t splash The Mom.” And yes, it was a safety rule as you were in grave danger (from me) for violating it.

Anyway, I had a chance to rest from my long swim during the second test, maintaining buoyancy (not sinking). While Larry, Taylor and Bo had to tread water, I just stretched out on my back and let all that high percentage of female body fat keep me afloat. Good thing I decided to wait to diet until AFTER the holidays.

But eventually, loaded with equipment and wearing wet suits, we went back into the sea for Dive 3. We were scheduled once again for my least favorite skill, mask clearing. On cue from the instructor, I flooded my face mask. Unfortunately, I also flooded my nose with seawater which I immediately started choking on.

I am 30 feet underwater. My facemask and nose are flooded and I am swallowing seawater. This is NOT good.

Suddenly, however, the higher functioning part of my brain remembers I have a regulator in my mouth! I cautiously inhale. There’s air there and I can breathe past the water. Since I have an air supply, I start blowing the water out of my nose and mask almost on autopilot until eventually both are clear.

I am still very shook up. I do not want to be down in that murky mess anymore. I need fresh air. I signal to the instructor that I am not okay and I want to go up. As the four of us are all in training, he can’t leave any of us alone underwater so if he takes me up, everyone has to go.

He moved to Larry to signal we are ascending. Even though Larry is right next to me, the visibility is so bad he hadn’t seen anything. Larry was so surprised by the unexpected instruction to ascend that he verifies it with the instructor.

This gave me a minute to calm down. I no longer had an irrational desire to bolt to the surface and there’s no point in ending the dive for everyone else. I signal the instructor that I’m okay. I’ve privately decided that I am NOT doing any more skills. I am just going to stay down there quietly and BREATH till it’s time to go up.

The next skill is taking the regulator out of your mouth and then blowing air from your lungs into your vest to inflate it. Then you put the regulator back in your mouth, clear the water out of it, take a breath and repeat. By that point in the dive, I had become VERY attached to my regulator with its supply of air and I wasn’t going to part with it, even temporarily.

The instructor had everyone else demonstrate this first. When it was my turn, I actually took out the regulator and demonstrated the skill as planned.

But I still had Dive Four. That dive included the dreaded facemask flood with an added twist. You had to completely remove your mask underwater. You then replaced the flooded mask and then cleared it of water.

We started the dive with underwater navigation. The compass has always been my friend in foreign cities so I had no difficulties in using one below the surface, although I did have to learn about headings.

All too soon, it was time for mask removal. I flooded my mask, trying to hold my nose whenever I could to keep the water out. I managed to hang onto my mask with my other hand and then slipped it back on. Then I cleared the water out. No problem. The instructor did a little celebratory dance underwater.

We still had emergency ascents but as that did not involve flooding my facemask, that was no big deal to me. I had passed all my skills tests. Flipper would be proud.

"And we know Flipper lives in a world full of wonder,
Flying there under, under the sea"

-Theme song from Flipper

Waterlogged Weekend, Day One

We did our four open water dives this weekend for our PADI certification. As I will never go through Marine Basic Training, this was my version of Hell Weekend.

The water in the Persian Gulf was cold so a wet suit was added to our onerous array of equipment. Larry said there is such much equipment in Scuba that diving really appeals to techno-geeks. I am not a techno-geek. For example, I like my cellphone to just be a cellphone. It doesn’t need to schedule social appointments, surf the Internet, message other cellphones, and in general, have more fun than I do.

I am definitely not in SCUBA for the equipment. I am taking SCUBA because I enjoy seeing all the underwater wildlife while pretending I am Flipper. It really enhances the experience, if you hum the Flipper Theme to yourself.

Putting on a wet suit is like putting on a full-length tight thick leotards. I struggled into one, remembering watching women wiggle into girdles. Luckily, I came of age in the 70s “Let It All Hang Out Generation” and never used those contraptions.

I presented myself to our instructor for inspection. “Yeah, it’s too loose.” He asked the dive center for a size smaller. I thought, “Smaller? What am I, Brooke Shields in the Calvin Klein jeans commercial?”

I peeled myself out of the “big” wet suit and with a lot of pulling, tugging and gnashing of teeth, managed to get the smaller one on. There was, however, no question of me being able to zip it up and secure it. Another good reason for SCUBA’s strict adherence to the buddy system.

I got the rest of my equipment ready. This involves REALLY securing your tank to your BCD, a vest that can inflate, as you don’t want your air source falling off when you are 30 feet underwater. With the tank secured tightly in place, I then attached an octypus to my tank. It’s called an octypus because it has four long tubes that radiate out from the center. There is various equipment you have to know how to use at the end of each one.

Next I attached one octypus arm to my BCD and turned on my tank to check everything. Then I carefully laid down the rig so no one trips over it, while I got the REST of my equipment ready.

I loaded up my weight belt with 16 pounds of weights which I distributed equally around the waist. Then I made sure my snorkel, mask, dive shoes, and fins (I got in BIG trouble for calling them flippers) were ready to go.

It was now time to spit. Part of getting my mask ready is to spit into it, smear the spit around with your finger, and rinse it with seawater. This keeps it from fogging up underwater. There’s a commerical defogger but using this rather than spitting is considered highly uncool among SCUBA guys and they’d probably toss you to the sharks if they caught you.

Then we kit up. The really hard part for me is walking (or even standing) with all this stuff on. I have 16 pounds on a weight belt and at least another 20 pounds of equipment on my back and I’m wearing a girdle suit!

You can’t just jump in, as you and your buddy have to carefully doublecheck each other’s equipment using an acronym BWRAF (Big Women Really Are Fun).

Finally, we are ready to dive. While I would have sworn there wasn’t room for a molecule between me and the wet suit, cold water immediately seeped in. My body quickly warmed that thin layer of water which is now trapped by the wet suit and that’s what keeps you warm.

There was about one meter of visibility. I saw a total of one fish. The only way I could tell where my buddy was, was by physically holding onto him under water. Today was not a good day to be Flipper. But our dives for the next two days were demonstrating our skills in order to get certified.

The most difficult task for me was clearing my mask underwater. This is where you let water fill your mask. Then using the air from your regulator, which is in your mouth, you blow out through your nose until you have forced all the water out and your mask is clear again.

Because I didn’t completely flood my mask the first time (I have to close my eyes as I wear contacts), the instructor gave me the “do over” signal and I had to do it again!

Our first two open water dives complete, we came home, enjoyed a hot shower, gobbled down some chicken swarma and fell asleep at about 8 p.m.

Tis the Season

Photo: Lobby at the Emirates Palace Hotel.

It’s the holiday party season in Abu Dhabi. Expats are big on holiday parties, maybe because we miss being with our families back home so much. Here’s a glimpse of my social calendar last week:

Coffee at Linda’s. She served traditional minced pies with cream and mulled wine. (She’s obviously NOT from the U.S.) One thing about expat life is that it often exposes you to other cultures besides the one in which you are living.

Tea at the Emirates Palace. I met four of my friends for tea at the swank Emirates Palace Hotel to celebrate Christmas and because the prices there are set to double in 2007. The hotel is nearing its one year anniversary and apparently had been operating on introductory prices. Our small group included ladies from Wales, Australia, Armenia and the U.S.

The set tea menu was $25 for Coral, $37 for Pearl and $50 for Diamond. All three menus looked identical to me. But on closer examination, the Pearl menu added crumpets while Diamond menu got you crumpets and one glass of champagne. I thought a crumpet was some kind of pastry, but whatever it was, I didn’t think it was worth an extra $12. I stuck with the Coral.

This turned out to be a very wise move, as the Coral menu entitled me to a three-tiered serving plate filled with little sandwiches, really good scones, and pastries. I ended up taking about a third of it home, which they prettily boxed up for me. And unlike the Burj Al Arab, tea at the Emirates Palace actually included tea. I had a very nice African Bush.

American Women’s Network Dinner Party. Larry was in Cairo so I went on my own to the Orxy Hotel with its lovely patio view overlooking the city.

As my children will attest, I am a woman who pretty much deliberately overdresses for everything so I was shocked when my rose colored Talbots silk evening suit was one of the more casual outfits there. (Most women were in long dresses.) I made up for it when our table came in second on the Christmas trivia contest. This was mostly due to everyone else’s shocking lack of knowledge as to what Alvin the Chipmonk wants for Christmas (a hulahoop) and who narrated How the Grinch Stole Christmas (Boris Karloff). We missed first place as I did not know that eggnog originated in Jamestown or that Saint Nicholas was based on a person who lived in Turkey. It was kind of a relief that someone at the other table must be better at useless information than me.

It was such a lovely evening, I opted to walk home. So I treaded the streets of Abu Dhabi in my sparkly evening shoes, carrying a poinsettia. Tis the season.

Terminal Madness

Photo: Children at Angkor Wat.

Days 12 and 13
Saigon to Singapore to Dubai to Abu Dhabi

I woke up at 3:45 a.m. in the lounge at the Saigon Airport. The place was entire deserted except for the French couple who were sleeping across the room. While the lounge was open all night as promised, it wasn’t staffed.

I pulled my eye mask back over my face and went back to sleep. The next morning, I washed up, packed up my stuff and headed back for the passport control area. The Belgiums and French were there arguing with the airlines about their flight arrangements.

One of the airline staffers approached me. They had an 11 a.m. flight to Singapore but that would give me a very long layover there. Wouldn’t I prefer to take the 2 p.m. flight?

“I’d like the 11 a.m. flight, please,” I said.

The French guy deadpanned, “What? You don’t want to spend more extra hours here?”

I tried not to laugh and turned back to the staffer, “When can I get a boarding pass?” I asked. It was past 9 and I did not want to miss that flight. Fifteen minutes later, I had my pass and happily boarded my plane.

I had a seven hour layover at Changi Airport in Singapore. After I landed I checked on an earlier departure but with my frequent flyer ticket, no changes were allowed. It would only save me two hours which at this point didn’t seem to be too big of a deal.

I grabbed some lunch at Subway Sandwiches and considered my options. Changi has lots of activities: free bus tours of Singapore, free movies, tons of shopping, restaurants, gyms, and lounges. They even had a transit hotel where rooms rented in four hour blocks. But having slept last night, I wasn’t tired.

What I was, was grubby, especially my hair. I opted to go to a salon and had my hair washed and blow dried. And as long as I was there, I had a 60 minute reflexology foot massage.

I felt much more refreshed and wandered over to one of the gardens where I read until it was time to head for the gate for my long flight to the U.A.E. I got about four hours of sleep on that flight. We landed in Dubai where I cleared passport control and was pleasantly surprised to discover that both of my checked bags had arrived with me on the plane. (Maybe my Buddahs were good for some karma after all.)

In the taxi, I slept all the way to Abu Dhabi, arriving at our flat very early in the a.m. Larry was out of town but Taylor was home. He had left a note on the door, “Welcome home, Mom. I’m asleep. The key is under the mat.”

I finally got to take my shower and fell into bed for a couple more hours of sleep, It was good to be home.

Photos above: More random shots from Vietnam and Cambodia.

Photo left: Our group in front of Ankgor Wat.

Stuck in Saigon

Photos: More Angkor Wat pics.

Day 11 Siem Reap to Saigon

That morning Mary had arranged transportation to one of the more obscure recently reopened temples. I really wanted to go but I was leaving early to make my connection in Saigon. I passed on the excursion as I didn't want to worry about making my flight. It turns out I needn't have worried.

My first indication of trouble came when checking in. Even though I had put all my heavy stuff in my carry-on, my checked luggage totaled 32 kilos. The allowance was only 20 kilos (about 44 pounds).

I was told to wait until an official could deal with me. After a few minutes, the helpful gate agent said he could "help me out" if I put "something" inside my passport.

I quickly computed that even if allowed to check my luggage, the overweight fee would probably be $10 a kilo or $120. I surrepticiously slid a $20 bill into my passport and pushed it across the desk. The agent pulled it down, looked at the bill and nodded. He returned my now empty passport and I was free to go with my luggage checked through to Dubai.

Later I felt guilty for helping to perpetuate a corrupt system. Plus if everyone did that, the plane would be so overweight it would crash.

But at that moment, I was more concerned about the delay of my departure. The flight ended up being two and a half hours late. The agent at the gate in Cambodia assured me I'd have time to make my connection. He was, of course, lying.

We did arrive in Ho Chi Minh 30 minutes before my flight to Singapore.

However, they'd closed the flight and wouldn't let us on. There were 11 on us who missed the flight to Singapore. We were stuck in the same large room where all incoming passengers stood in line to go through passport control.

The 11 of us represented four different nationalities. Even though it was only 3 p.m., I knew we'd be stuck overnight as there were no other flights to Singapore until 11 a.m. the next day.

So I decided to let the other waylaid passengers try their luck first. The two Japanese passengers were the smartest. As soon as they determined they were stuck, they left to go spend the night at a hotel. (Helpful hint: if you EVER miss your overseas connection, find someplace comfortable to stay and come back the next day.)

Next up were the six Begiums in their ealy 60s, wearing hiking attire. They complained logically and got absolutely nowhere with the smiling Vietnamese airline personnel.

Then came the young French couple who argued passionately but with the same results. When offered a voucher for dinner, I thought they were going to tear it up in little pieces and spit on it. "I do not want your dinner voucher! I want to go home! It is your fault we are still here."

All of these conversations took place in English, the only language the airline staff and the passengers had in common. It must be terribly frustrating to have to have a meltdown in a foreign language.

When it was my turn, I concentrated on places to spend the night. Like Lyndon Johnson, I had accept that I couldn't get out of Vietnam.The airline people were willing to put us up at a hotel, but we had no visas (my single entry visa had been used up) and the government wouldn't let us in. Next I asked about lounges.

Yes, they had a frequent flyer lounge but it closed at midnight. I took the dinner voucher and surrended my passport so they let me into the gate area which had shops and restaurants. I also found another frequent flyer lounge. I found out it that stayed open all night and I could buy a pass to get in.

The woman with the airlines who gave me the dinner voucher tracked me down in the gate area. she explained that I was required to stay in the passport control area unless I had a boarding pass. I explained that I did not want to sleep on the hard plastic chairs, being awakened with every arriving flight.

I told her I'd bought a pass to the lounge. She was surprised that they were open all night and wanted to know what my pass cost. I went back with her to passport control, where I was reunited with the other 8 unhappy refugees, but I planned to somehow get back out to the gate area to the lounge.

I needn't have worried. About 15 minutes later, my airline contact arrived with a fake boarding pass for me for a flight out that night! I promised her I'd be back before 9 a.m., two hours before the first flight to Singapore. I showed my fraudulent boarding pass to the guard at the door and was released back into the gate area.

The lounge had free hot food, lots of snacks, anything I wanted to drink, TV, magazines, a nice bathroom and showers. I regretted not bringing a change of clothes or at least clean underwear.

I took stock of my resources. My carry-on contained two Buddahs (which had not been very lucky for me this trip), my silver pumpkin, my curling iron, and two jars of Nana's Salsa (long story).

On the practical side, I did have an airline toiletry bag from one of Larry's first class flights (containing a toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash, sockies and eye mask), a book and my comfy cashmere shawl.

I staked out an upholstered love seat and helped myself to the buffet dinner with a glass of wine. Then I took a melatonin, washed my face, laid down covered by my shawl and went to sleep. Not exactly how I'd plan to end the day. But far better than trying to sleep on molded plastic chairs in passport control.

Photo: My Buddah, which extended no good karma in getting me home.

Wat's Up

Photo: Yes, I took this photo and yes, it is just that amazing.

Day 10 Siem Reap

I didn't think anything could top yesterday. I was wrong.

Today when we approached Angkor Watt through the jungle, I heard drums beating. They reminded me of Kodo drums. It turned out they were practicing for a TV special to be filmed here.

This morning, we were exploring a different section. Part of this included a steep narrow stairway up. Most of the group remained below, but I climbed to the top and was rewarded with another lovely view.

We took a break in the heat of the afternoon and went to Artisans Angkor which encourages tradtional artforms among locals. http://www.artisansdangkor.com/index.php We wandered through their workshops and I bought a terrific carved "Orant," one of Buddah's helpers. Did you know Buddah needed helpers?

Later that afternoon, we returned to Angkor Wat where we visited the one section the French had left alone. This same site was apparently used in one of the Tomb Raider movies.

With the jungle encroaching, the ruins looked like something from a fairy tale. The atmosphere was magical and I hated to leave. But next on the itinerary was a climb to watch the sunset over Angkor Wat.

First, I need a bathroom. I sprinted to the bathroom, arriving just in time to beat a busload of Korean tourists. With the sun getting lower by the minute, I hurriedly climbed the hill.

After about 20 minutes, I reached the top where I was surrounded by about a thousand fellow tourists. But I couldn't see Angkor Wat.

I climbed another steep set of stairs to the highest point and looked at the direction of the setting sun. All around me, people were taking photos, but I couldn't see anything. Later I found they were taking photos of the sunset.

I'm from Arizona, the land of the most beautiful sunsets on the planet. This sunset didn't rate a digital photo, much less a strenuous climb up a hill in tropical weather!

After a shower at the hotel, a few of us walked over to a small shopping center with expensive boutiques. We wandered into an art gallery opening there where we drank wine and ate hors derves. Even though we were very casually attired, two of our group actually bought pictures so they were happy to have us.

We closed out the evening by dining al fresco at the Foreign Corresponspents Club. It was my last full day in Cambodia and it was unforgettable.

Photo: The narrow stairs the top.

Amazing Angkor

Photos: Angkor Wat

Day 9 Phnom Penh to Siem Reap

It was only a 45 minute flight from Phnom Penh but Siem Reap was a million miles away in outward appearance.

While Phnom Penh looked third world, Siem Reap could have been a resort town anywhere in the world. On our way into town, we passed well landscaped resorts that housed Raffles and LeMeridian hotels.

We had a new local guide and he wanted passport photos from everyone for our passes to Angkor Watt. This was the THIRD time on this trip I have unexpectantly needed passport photos. Having, leftovers from Vietnam, I was all set.

We checked into our hotel, a not-inexpensive place associated with the hotel school next door. The school hired the poorest of the poor and trained them for work in the burgeoning service industry there. http://www.shintamani.com/ Staying here was one way we gave back to the local community.

After freshening up, we headed out to Ankor Watt. During the 1400s, almost a million people lived here and it was one of the biggest cities in the world. Unfortunately, it was just a tad too close to rivals in Bangkok and it kept getting bashed. So the rulers packed up and moved to Phnom Penh, abandoning it to the jungle for centuries. It was discovered by a French naturalist in the 1800s.

We approached Angkor Wat for the first time like the explorer, on foot, through the jungle. All around us, the cicadas emitted a surrealistic loud whine.

The sight of the ruins were amazing, even though this particular temple was overcrowded by large Korean tour groups. When Mary had been here 10 years ago, she had the place to herself.

Although I'd seen photos of Angkor Wat, the reality left me breathless. I immediately began making plans to bring Alec and Larry here, where we’d start with the four hour hike around the perimeter.

We were in one small section for four hours and didn’t even begin to adequately cover all of it. I was happy we had another full day here tomorrow.

Photo right: The stone relief decorating on one of the walls. These were originally in red and black lacquer.

No Smiling at the Torture Museum

Photo: A "No Smiling" sign posted at the torture museum.

Day 8 Phnom Penh

During the 1970s, Cambodia was ruled by a horrible dictator, Pol Pot, who managed to wipe out one quarter of the population.

He decided that Cambodia needed to return to nature, so he closed down all the schools, hospitals and cities. He made everyone work 10 hours a day out in the fields.

Many of the 1.7 million who died were killed through starvation or through the lack of medical care. But a big number of people were also slaughtered by the regime and secretly buried out in the countryside at places known today as the Killing Fields.

We started this morning by visiting the torture museum. This was a former school which had been converted into a prison and torture facility. We had to walk through more disabled beggars to reach the gate.

Pol Pot didn't want to kill "innocent" people. So he had his soldiers, boys often as young as 14 as they were easier to brainwash, torture people here until they "confessed." Then the prisoners were shipped out to the countryside to be slaughtered.

Pol Pot was finally defeated by the Vietnamese, but he never came to trial. He died in 1999 and many of his cronies are still in power today.

After the museum, we drove out to one of the 300 killing fields on a horribly bumpy dirt road. There we walked among the mass graves in a beautiful park-like environment where we could consider man's inhumanity to man. We had a quiet drive back to the city.

Later our local guide took us to his "recommended" shopping spot in Phenom Penh. He informed us this is where Angelina Jolie shopped. "She's rich, right?"

After watching us spend thousands of dollars yesterday at the silver place, our guide must have been very disappointed when out of 16 people, they only had one $10 purchase. But our group knew better than to shop at the guide-recommended places. The prices are jacked up enormously to cover the guide's extensive kickbacks.

Afterwards we went to the "Russian" market where it was very hot and everything seemed to be made in China.

I had planned to ditch the group meal and go with a couple of women to the famous Foreign Correspondents Club for dinner but I was so tired and grubby I didn't want to do anything but take a shower and stay in.

I met some like-minded friends for wine in one of the rooms, not bothering to change out of my three-piece lounging pajamas. We elected to eat downstairs at the hotel and I got up to change. Deb "double dared" me to wear my pajamas to dinner.

I may be 50, but that doesn't make me immune to a double-dare. I slipped on my new scarlet silk beaded shoes, much to everyone's amusement and went in my pajamas. I was completely unnoticed. Of course, six middle-aged women in a big tourist hotel would have to be nude to attract any attention.

At dinner we learned that our Cambodian guide, having lost huge kickbacks when we failed to purchase from his store, went to Mary's contact and demanded a kickback from him.

The silver shop owner argued that Mary was the one who brought us, but in the end, he paid up. And although we gnashed our teeth over this, we didn't do anything about it either, other than slightly decreasing our tip to him.

We didn't want any repurcussions for Mary's contact. And we did, in fact, cost our guide probably at least one day's wages by declining to shop at his store.

Photo: Monument at the Killing Fields

Dinner Revolt

Photo: Lynn, Mary and Judy wait at the airport for our flight to Phnom Penh.

Day 7 Ho Chi Minh to Phnom Penh

Today we had a 30 minute flight from Vietnam to Cambodia. After we landed, we were taken for a “French” lunch. This consisted of soup, noodles, rice, and some meat and vegetable sauté dish, followed by fruit. This was French? Where was the crème brulee?

We pretty much had this exact menu for dinner at a “Chinese” restaurant. The food was wretched. Five of the 16 of us had LIVED in China so we had more than a passing knowledge of properly prepared local Chinese food. This mush wasn’t it.

The meals in Cambodia were as disappointing as the meals in Vietnam had been wonderful. After that day, there was full-scale abandonment of our pre-paid dinners in favor of ordering from room service or eating at the hotel where they at least had decent Ceasar salads and French fries.

In between lunch and dinner we toured the royal palace which reminded me a lot of the palace in Bangkok and went to the Silver Pagoda.

We also climbed the Wat Phnom which should have been called the Tower of the Disfigured Beggars as they, along with a tribe of monkeys, seemed to inhabit the grounds.

We also had time for shopping. Mary took us to her silver dealer. Back in the 1990s Mary had imported silver from Cambodia to resell in Singapore where she was living. He had a wide selection of high quality silver with intricate designs that had been hammered out by hand. The prices were all based on weight.

I bought a traditional pumpkin made by a second-generation silversmith. (Mary knew the family.) While we were in the shop, an elephant walked by. This reminded me of a play Taylor had studied called “Rhinosaurous” about a group of people inside a shop when a Rhino walks by.

The play is absurdist and sometimes my life is too.

Photo above: Our group attempts to buy out the silver shop.

Photo right: My pumpkin. The design is hammered out by hand from the inside.