Of all the temples in Cambodia—somewhere between 4,000 and 6,600, depending on the cultural authority—Ta Prohm, located within Angkor Archaeological Park, remains a must-see because of its striking temple remains and captivating narrative.
At the ruinous site of Ta Prohm,
I encountered an otherworldly standoff between human ingenuity and nature’s relentless advance. It’s not merely a structure; it’s a testament to history, where the surrounding jungle advances, progressively reclaiming the landscape.
Here, a vast root system appears to strangle the West Gopura–a vivid illustration of nature’s power interwoven with human craftsmanship.
Myth and stone intertwine, as a patina of multi-colored lichen cloaks the bas-relief stonework depicting meditating monks and temple guardians in serene poses.
The gigantic roots of the silk-cotton, gold apple, and strangler fig trees invade the ancient walls and terraces to create a visually stunning tableau.
The trees seemingly communicate with the stone, highlighting both the beauty and fragility of the monument’s existence.
Constructed during the late 12th and early 13th centuries in the local Bayon style—an intricately decorated form of Khmer architecture—Ta Prohm served as a monastery and university for Mahayana Buddhists, offering spiritual guidance and education in a time where knowledge was deeply intertwined with faith.
Following the fall of the Khmer Empire in the 15th century, the complex fell into neglect and was eventually abandoned, allowing the encroaching jungle to seize control, transforming the area into a site of haunting beauty.
Today, various restoration attempts have stabilized the environment, courtesy of the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI),
which has been collaborating on the temple’s restoration with Cambodia’s APSARA National Authority since 2003.
Restoration efforts to preserve the temple’s original structure include replacing damaged stones, supporting entries, and strengthening foundations to withstand natural elements like heavy rains.
While archaeologists and craftsmen work to protect the temple from potential damages, they are also aware that Ta Prohm’s‘condition of apparent neglect’contributes to its global reputation, as evidenced in the action film, Laura Croft: Tomb Raider.
This balance creates an enchanting duality: the remarkable presence of both human history and the natural world,
coexisting in a state of beautiful decay.
Ta Prohm stands as a poignant reminder of the passage of time, notwithstanding the scrollwork of a stegosaurus carving on a terrace wall that has confounded scholars for centuries.
Together with Angkor Wat, Ta Prohm represents an enduring symbol of the Khmer Empire’s remarkable cultural and architectural grandeur. The site is among Cambodia’s most visited destinations, preserved for tourists who come to witness and contemplate the relentless power of nature in its interplay with human achievement.
Siem Reap Province, located in northwestern Cambodia, possesses significant cultural, religious, and symbolic value, and is also renowned for its architectural, archaeological, and artistic importance. Furthermore, Siem Reap is home to Angkor Archaeological Park, the world’s largest religious monument complex and the cornerstone of Cambodia’s tourism sector.
Our O.A.T. group overlanded from Phnom Penh to Siem Reap with a stopover at the ancient Kampong Kdei Bridge, constructed in the 12th century during the reign of King Jayavarman VII.
The bridge is a testament to the engineers who designed the 87m river span with 21 corbelled arches of laterite, making it the longest structure of its kind in the world.
Nine-headed nagas–whose bodies form a continuous balustrade alongside the roadbed–welcome only pedestrians and cycles on the bridge because of weight restrictions.
While admiring the scenery, I paused a moment to consider that Leah and I were walking the same trail as the Chinese merchants who traded along the Maritime Silk Road nearly a millennium ago. Back then, it was a 2-day trek through the lowlands to reach Angkor Wat.
But not for us; we stepped out of our air-conditioned coach the following morning, well before the crowds, to cross a moat symbolizing the cosmic ocean in Hindu cosmology.
While getting our bearings, our guide Seong, a native of Siem Reap revealed Cambodia’s worst kept secret: by arriving at Angkor Wat’s Death Gopura (East Gate), we were avoiding the popular western gateway with five times the tourists.
The cloud cover flattened the morning light on our approach down the expansive causeway. It was the best time for photographing Angkor. Eventually, we reached a break in the trees, perfectly framing the famed lotus tower of this Khmer masterpiece. It was reminiscent of the thrill I felt after emerging from the slot canyon in Jordan and peeking at Petra for the first time at first light.
Much has been written about Angkor Wat:
About its monumental size,
spanning 402 acres,
or 4 times the size of Vatican City;
It’s intricate bas-relief carvings throughout the temples and galleries;
Its historical significance, showcasing Khmer mythology and history etched into laterite stone;
Churning of the Sea of Milk
Heaven and Hell
Military Parade of Kink Suryavarman II
Its religious significance–originally constructed in the 12th century as a Hindu temple dedicated to Vishnu but converted to a Theravadin Buddhist temple during the 15tth century to reflect the shift in Cambodia’s spiritual landscape;
Hindu GoddessBuddha seated on Mucilinda, King of the Serpents
And its architectural accomplishment–a profound reflection of Hindu cosmology, particularly the concept of Mount Meru, regarded as the mythical abode of the deities. The central tower of Angkor Wat epitomizes the summit of Mount Meru, while the adjacent smaller towers signify the mountain’s subordinate peaks. The moat and the rectangular outer wall delineate the oceans and the boundaries of the world, respectively.
Restoration and maintenance have become routine endeavors in Angkor, which fell into neglect following the capital’s relocation to Phnom Penh in 1434. The site garnered renewed attention after being rediscovered by French naturalist Henri Mouhot in 1858.
An international task force supported by Japan, India, France, South Korea, and other contributing nations have collaborated with APSARA National Authority, the Cambodian government agency responsible for Angkor’s ongoing preservation and management, to address the extensive neglect and restore the temple to World Heritage status.
Ceiling before repairCeiling after repair
Recently, new risers have been completed by the Korea Heritage Agency…
giving access to the Bakan (central sanctuary),
which supports the amazing quincunx of towers,
offering amazing views,
and providing sanctuary for a rare wooden Buddha sculpture whose head remains intact,
unlike most of the other Buddhas who fell victim to so many marauders over the centuries.
But amidst the vastness and splendor surrounding us, it was the people donning their Sunday best who truly captured my attention with their warmth and spirit.
often posing by the Reflecting Pool for the quintessential photograph, or so I thought.
Unfortunately, the wind kicked up, causing the pool to ripple ever so slightly and affect my mirrored imagery.
However, by returning the following day for a sunset farewell to Angkor, I believe I captured the iconic shot that characterizes Cambodia’s cultural landscape.
The experience not only fulfilled a bucket-listed destination but deepened my appreciation for the rich heritage of Cambodia, reminding me that some locations leave an indelible mark on our souls.
Phnom Penh and the Khmer Republic fell to the Khmer Rouge on April 17, 1975.
For the Communists, it was Liberation Day and cause for celebration.
While it marked the end of civil war, it was the beginning of one of history’s darkest chapters. Almost immediately, the Khmer Rouge ordered the exodus of the city’s 2 million inhabitants.
from Agence Khmere de Press archive
Khmer Rouge strongman, Pol Pot declared 1975 “Year Zero,” in his quest to build a classless agrarian utopia patterned after Maoist China, but it also marked the start of a genocide that would devastate the country, claiming over 25% of the population through forced labor, starvation and slaughter.
It started with a civil servant purge that eliminated tens of thousands of military loyalists, local police, and anyone associated with the previous government. Additional targets included academics, professionals, and “impure” ethnic minorities.
To facilitate the Khmer Rouge agenda, an education campus in Phnom Penh that housed Tuol Svay Prey High School and Tuol Sleng Primary School was commandeered and codenamed “S-21”–the nerve center of the Khmer Rouge secret police.
The survivors remember that day as the day when hope turned to horror, changing their lives forever.
For Vann Nath (tall man in the middle), the unexpected journey to Tuol Sleng began with his arrest in 1978 while working in a rice field. Before 1975, he led a normal life as a commercial artist in Battambang. The Khmer Rouge first detained him at Wat Kandal–a temple turned detention center– and accused him of violating the regime’s moral code before moving him to S-21.
Detainees arrived in handcuffs and were immediately photographed. Today, their images hang on bulletin boards as a numbing reminder of their journey into hell.
Following intake and registration, they were showered.
High-ranking cadres were imprisoned and interrogated in larger cells,
while the masses were confined to bricked-in cubbies the size of shower stalls, with ammunition boxes for toilets.
Of course, Vann was interrogated…
and tortured to extract a confession,
according to a strict code of conduct.
Archives from S-21 reveal that initially, Vann was to be executed, but the commandant spared him in exchange for the portraits he later painted of their supreme leader, Pol Pot.
Vann was among the handful of prisoners who narrowly escaped death by virtue of their special skills and usefulness to the regime.
Vann’s first-person account of his misfortune was interpreted years later after his release through a series of colorful graphic depictions–on permanent display throughout the museum–that ironically brings life to the drab surroundings of prison buildings.
These vibrant illustrations vividly capture the stark contrast between the bleak memories of confinement and the essence of freedom, allowing us to connect emotionally with Vann’s experiences.
The cracked walls reflect the forgotten whispers of hope and despair, transforming the narrative into an immersive journey that transcends time and pain.
The art not only serves as a commentary on the injustices faced but also inspires conversations about redemption, resilience, and the profound impact of creativity in the face of adversity.
Chum Mey is another survivor who’s grateful for his mechanical skills. By fixing the typewriters used to record the forced confessions of fellow prisoners, Chum Mey managed to escape a death sentence, but not the torture. He sits at the edge of the museum courtyard, eager to recount his story in horrific detail. “I come every day to tell the world the truth about the Tuol Sleng prison… so that none of these crimes are ever repeated anywhere in the world.”
Our group was also moved by our off-site exchange with Norng Chan Phal, who delivered his oral history through an interpreter. He was 9-years old in 1978, when his world was turned upside down. His father was arrested and executed at Tuol Sleng. Months later, the Khmer Rouge returned for the rest of his family. He recalled his mother’s torture and disappearance, and how he and his brother hid under piles of dirty laundry to escape retreating guards after S-21 was liberated.
Even now, the burden of remembering brings on sudden sadness.
All three survivors later testified against senior leadership before the UN-backed Khmer Rouge genocide tribunal, which led to their convictions.
Tuol Sleng was liberated by the Vietnamese Army in January 1979, and reopened the following year as a museum.
Cambodia’s willingness to confront its past is only one part of the healing process. Youk Chhang, director of the Documentation Center of Cambodia (DC-Cam) states, “Post-conflict nations must redefine themselves and actively commit to a future without violence, atrocity crimes and genocide.”
At first glance, Choeung EK is an inviting greenspace on the edge of Phnom Penh,
with flowering trees,
and a peaceful lotus pond stocked with ancient koi.
Located 12 km from City Center, it’s conveniently adjacent to AEON Mean Chey, the city’s trendiest and largest all-purpose shopping center and fashion mall targeting Cambodia’s rising middle class.
Although, from my perspective, the only fashion that’s display-worthy is a collection of fabric remnants protected in a glass box…
once worn by 20,000 prisoners whose remains continue to float to the surface during every rainy season.
On closer inspection, the heritage trees throughout the grounds were once used as tools of brutality by agents of Khmer Rouge: from towers of dissonance,
to hardwood battering pillars.
Over the years, visitors to Choeung EK Genocidal Center have rebranded this tree as an ad hoc totem to memorialize the fate of thousands of children whose skulls were bashed against it.
Nearby, a stunning Buddhist stupa rises from the epicenter of the killing field…
housing thousands of adult skulls recovered during a site excavation in the 1980’s.
Between 1995 and 2007, the Documentation Center of Cambodia undertook the most challenging and disheartening task of mapping and documenting Cambodia’s killing fields. Through thousands of interviews and field investigations, DC-Cam identified 19,733 mass graves and 196 prisons that operated during the Democratic Kampuchea (DK) regime.
Choeung EK’s conversion from orchard to reeducation center…
served as a lethal gateway for every soul imprisoned at the notorious Tuol Sleng Detention Center.
All day long, trucks rolled into S-21, herding political enemies into primitive barracks,
where they ultimately met their untimely fate through horrific violence.
In 5 years, an estimated 2 million Cambodians (men, women, children, and infants) were murdered by Khmer Rouge,
accounting for 25% of the nation’s population.
Choeung EK reopened as a historical museum and learning center on January 7, 1989, with a mission to acknowledge the historical atrocities that occurred, and to remind us that violence against each other can have devastating consequences.
Its exhibits, memorials, and curated educational programs engage visitors in meaningful conversations about human rights and reconciliation.
Cambodians will soon commemorate their loss with a National Day of Remembrance. Every May 20th, students take part in an annual ritual–reenacting the crimes of Khmer Rouge guerillas–that still haunt Cambodian people deep to the bone.
On that day and every day, we pray for healing and understanding, and the realization that confronting past acts of inhumanity will inform and guide the well-being of future generations.
We were only 50 miles into a 200-mile road trip when our driver pulled up to a roadside shack on Natl Hwy 6 in Skón. It was our first potty break on the way to Siem Reap from Phnom Penh, but Seong, our guide had a different motive for stopping. We were standing on the edge of the jungle in Kampong Thom province to meet the “Spider Woman” of the town locals refer to as “Spiderville.”
She and her young daughter manage a thriving tourist trade of hunting and preparing Thai zebra leg tarantulas for snacking.
Historically, eating bugs, or entomophagy is nothing new for Cambodians. The practice is embedded in Cambodian culture, as shamans believe in its healing powers for heart, lung and throat ailments, as well as its potent aphrodisiac properties.
All the same, I can’t imagine why anyone would ever consider eating a tarantula, but during the Khmer Rouge regime from 1975-1979, eating eight-legged creatures became the new normal, thanks to the great food scarcity. Estimates from The U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum suggest between 500,000 and 1.5 million Cambodians perished from Khmer Rouge–induced famine, causing a desperate populace to hunt for anything that wriggled or crawled as dinner.
Decidedly, Cambodia’s appetite for tarantulas has evolved from the venomous (Pol) Pot stirrer on the countryside menu, to where it has become culinary currency. A skilled spider hunter/vendor can unearth up to 200 of these creatures (known locally as A-ping) in a couple of hours and fry them up for $1 each, reaping big profits.
All it takes is a small shovel, a stick, and locating their hidden, silk-laden lair–
something Spider Woman knows all too well.
Once captured, A-ping was defanged to protect us from its venom, making it safer to handle without being bitten.
Without hesitation, they were very curious to explore new territory as they “tiptoed” across my arm on their hairy legs, dragging their velvety abdomens. It was truly a weird sensation.
As for tasting A-ping, the recipe is simple and straightforward. Saute chopped garlic and grated ginger in a wok of hot palm oil until golden. Add a dozen tarantulas and coat evenly with oil until their bellies explode into a yokey paste.
Season with salt and pepper to taste and blot the excess oil on a paper towel before enjoying.
Not everyone in our group was hungry for arachnids, although there were a few intrepid souls. The faint-hearted mused that it would spoil their lunch, while Leah was sick at just the thought of putting it in her mouth. But before anyone of us would commit, we demanded a demonstration. Our guide was eager to oblige, touting it as a valuable source of protein, folic acid, zinc, and iron.
“What does it taste like?” we asked. But Seong was silent on the matter. He was too busy chewing. While I’ve “enjoyed” crickets in Sumatra, and mopane worms in Zimbabwe, I’ve never experienced tarantula on any menu …
until now!
So, what does deep-fried tarantula taste like? It was crunchy on the outside, and gooey on the inside, not unlike soft-shelled crab–with a similar taste and texture. However, the large round, hairy abdomen–the source of all the spider organs–tastes a bit gamey.
While there currently seems to be an inexhaustible supply of tarantulas in Cambodia, systematic deforestation throughout the kingdom may be a nail in the coffin for this delicacy and could even lead to a decline in their numbers, say some experts. But for now, the demand for munching on A-ping continues to creep up.
Lao People’s Democratic Republic is a poor country by any measure. According to the International Monetary Fund, Laos ranks eighth among 11 ASEAN nations in GDP per capita, with an annual income of $2,000. That’s a $1 per hour!
There are many contributing factors to Laotian poverty:
As the only landlocked country in Southeast Asia, Laos experiences significant logistical challenges due to its lack of direct sea access, which raises transportation costs and hampers trade competitiveness. Additionally, the mountainous terrain and dense forests hinder infrastructure development and access to rural areas, exacerbating poverty rates.
Laos could benefit from a more robust power grid, a reliable communication network, and improved sanitation system to bolster economic activity and improve the quality of life.
Inadequate infrastructure is a major barrier to economic development in Laos. The country’s transportation system is poorly developed, with few roads, no national railway, and a heavy reliance on unreliable river transport. This lack of connectivity restricts the movement of goods, people, and services, particularly in rural areas.
However, China saw an opportunity to elevate its status as top trading partner in 2024, surpassing Thailand with bilateral trade totaling $8.23 billion USD. Also notable, Chinese investment in Laos has expanded steadily since the Lao government introduced policies to promote trade and investment. Since 1989, China has funded 927 projects worth more than $18 billion USD, making it the largest investor in Laos out of 53 countries and regions.
At a cost of $6 billion USD, the Laos–China railway is one investment that’s poised to yield future benefits as a key developmental project in Laos’s national goal to become a “land-linked” economy.
Opened in December 2021, the new high-speed railway snipped 6 hours off the traditional 8-hour journey from Luang Prabang to Vientiane.
Designed with a fusion of traditional Lao stylings and modern flourishes,
the station hall in Luang Prabang can accommodate 1,200 travelers, although the station was relatively empty while we waited for our departure to Vientiane, the capital and largest city of Laos, and the country’s economic nerve center.
Two hours later, we are admiring lush palaces,
ornate Buddhist temples that bear witness to Laos’s rich cultural heritage,
and imposing government landmarks,
including the Patuxay (Victory Monument), a downtown landmark built between 1957 and 1968 to honor the brave Laotian soldiers who fought against French colonialism, ultimately paving the way for the nation’s full independence in 1953.
With a wink and a nod toward French colonial architecture, the monument is patterned after the Arc de Triomphe in Paris, and features distinctive, mythological creatures such as the kinnari–part human, part bird–inside the arch.
And the adjacent Patuxay Fountain with dancing water becomes the perfect nighttime complement.
But the jury is still out on the local impact of Chinese investments in Laos and whether the bolstered economy has trickled down to its 7.87 million inhabitants. By the numbers, it’s far from a quick fix, as Laos’s predominant unskilled labor market has limited ability to productively absorb China’s investment, creating a debt crisis that appears insoluble.
According to the United Nations, most of the wealth is concentrated in the Vientiane region, where only about 10 percent of the population lives. This disparity is striking, as the top fifth of population possesses 44% of the country’s wealth, while those at the bottom fifth possess only 8%. Vientiane presents a stark divergence from the economic hardships prevalent in the rest of the country. While urbanites may enjoy satellite TV and lavish meals at fancy restaurants, peasants in rural parts can go hungry, particularly if climate affects their crops or fishing prospects.
To exacerbate the situation, Laos holds the tragic distinction of being the most bombed nation in history due to the 2nd Indochina War (Vietnam War). Between 1964 and 1973, the United States dropped over 2 million tons of munitions (270 million cluster bombs) across Laos during 580,000 bombing missions–much of it focused on the Ho Chi Minh Trail that paralleled the Vietnamese border.
According to the National Regulatory Authority for UXO/Mine Action Sector, an estimated 80 million unexploded devices still litter the country, threatening lives and livelihoods. Since 1964, nearly 51,000 people have been killed or injured, with an average of 100 victims losing their lives each year.
Children often mistake remnant cluster bombs for playthings, leading to 40% of bomb-related fatalities involving minors. Consequently, with 80% of Laotians relying on their land for sustenance, individuals face the dire choice of risking their lives so they may tend fields dangerously littered with unexploded ordnance.
The LAO PDR government has set a bold target to remove all unexploded ordnance by 2030, recognizing the significant threat these remnants of conflict pose to the safety and development of its communities.
To help fulfill this pressing ambition, the government has received invaluable support from numerous countries (South Korea, United Kingdom, Japan, Russia, Norway, and United States) and international organizations–all committed to providing the necessary resources, expertise, and technology to ensure a comprehensive and effective clearance operation …until now!
In 2016, President Obama committed $90 million USD on clearing its UXO in Laos, in addition to the $100 million the United States had spent in the previous 20 years, citing a “moral obligation to help Laos heal.” Funding for the effort also continued under President Biden’s watch. All told, the U.S. Bureau of Political-Military Affairs reported a $391 million investment since 1995, working with The Halo Trust, and Mines Advisory Group (MAG).
The U.S. Bureau states:
This life-saving work is making more land safe for agriculture, infrastructure, and tourism, and driving critical economic development across Laos. From FY 2021 through FY 2023, United States support to the UXO program in Laos has achieved the following results:
Cleared UXO from more than 108 million square meters of land (26,700 acres) across Laos;
Removed and destroyed more than 155,600 pieces of UXO and 116 landmines;
Educated over 270,000 Lao PDR citizens about the risk of explosive hazards in their communities; and
Provided medical assistance to 90 citizens who were victims of UXO accidents.
Additionally, the Cooperative Orthotic and Prosthetic Enterprise (COPE), a locally run, non-profit organization supports injured civilians by providing prostheses and physical rehabilitation at no cost.
However, the commendable efforts of The Halo Trust, MAG, and COPE have been unceremoniously halted by President Trump, who has recklessly axed all funding to USAID (United States Agency for International Development) programs. This betrayal has robbed UXO survivors, war victims, and individuals with disabilities of crucial support they desperately need to reclaim their lives and dignity.
USAID once played a crucial role in U.S. foreign policy, using soft power to promote global development, democracy, and diplomacy. Its closure marks a significant shift, raising concerns about America’s reduced influence, as China and Russia expand their aid programs to fill the vacuum.
It’s crystal clear that funding to USAID must be restored. These collaborative efforts highlight the importance of international solidarity in addressing such a critical humanitarian issue, paving the way for a more peaceful future in Laos.
Visiting the World Heritage city of Luang Prabang was an enlightening adventure, given its rich history, its cultural gems, and its natural wonders that draw travelers from around the globe. The vibrant blend of ancient temples and French colonial architecture creates a stunning backdrop for exploration, inviting visitors to wander through its charming streets. With so much to explore, from the serene banks of the Mekong River to the bustling local markets filled with handmade crafts, it’s little wonder why our three days went by so quickly, while only scratching the surface of so many not-to-be-missed activities.
We toured the ancient capital’s Royal Palace-turned-museum …
with its purpose-built shrine housing the golden Phra Bang (translates to “delicate Buddha”), created in Sri Lanka between the 1st and 9th century, and worshipped in Luang Prabang since 1359 as the nation’s most sacred symbol.
We trekked through Kuang Si Waterfall Park,
featuring a 165 ft drop …
feeding terraced plunge pools of milky green water,
and a rescue sanctuary for black Moon bears and Malayan Sun bears.
After a full day of sightseeing, many in our tour group sought respite at our hotel, the Muang Thong.
However, Leah and I enjoyed a 60-minute, aromatherapeutic couples massage for $34 at M.K. Wellness Centre only steps from our hotel,
followed by a stroll to a nearby hotel …
where an acre of tropical gardens is thoroughly hidden from the street,
protecting three UNESCO-classified lily ponds …
amid an oasis of orchids …
along a mahogany-clad boardwalk.
Lush flora surrounds the property and covers nearly every surface,
including the living walls.
It was the perfect location to share a special dinner with fellow OATers at the hotel’s on-site restaurant, Manda de Laos,
featuring traditional Lao flavors that had us grinning ear to ear,
and energized to continue our journey to Vientiane the following day.
After Japan entered the 2nd World War at the end of 1941, their forces quickly overran most of Southeast Asia. However, by summer 1942, supply lines to Burma and Thailand were faltering after Japanese naval strength was compromised in the Battles of the Coral Sea and Midway.
To ensure a secure distribution channel in the region, the Japanese military built a single line railway to link existing railheads between Burma (now Myanmar) and Thailand.
By commanding a forced-labor construction brigade of 60,000 Allied POWs and 200,000 Burmese, Malayan and Thai civilians (Romusha) who toiled along the route (from Thanbyuzayat in the west to Nong Pladuk in the east), Japanese military eventually completed the 415 km rail line in October 1943, but not without considerable neglect and harm to their captors and conscripts.
At first, work at the termini progressed quickly across flat, lightly vegetated land. But as terrain turned to rocky jungle, and monsoons turned the ground to mud, the work became difficult, causing the project to stall multiple times–which intensified Japan’s desperation to finish the line with little regard for human life.
One of the most challenging excavations required the construction of many large embankments, as the railway crossed the relatively flat high ground towards the steep valley wall to the north.
Crew survivors called it Hellfire Pass (Konyu), recalling the horrid conditions of the cutting and how much the work scene resembled a living hell when illuminated by fire.
All of the grueling work was done without the aid of reliable mechanical equipment. Instead, the most primitive of hand tools were used to drill holes for the explosives used in blasting the rock and removing the debris.
It took 12 weeks of round-the-clock shifts to complete this section of the roadbed, which resulted in a great loss of life. Sixty-nine men were beaten to death by Japanese guards, and countless others died from cholera, dysentery, starvation, and exhaustion–all of which is well documented at the Interpretive Center’s exhibition hall,
and memorial trail built and managed by the Australian government.
Construction brigades completed the 415 km railroad in October 1943. Unfortunately, the project cost the lives of approximately 15,000 POWs and 100,000 Romusha from disease, starvation, exhaustion and mistreatment. Their sacrifice was commemorated by a granite block placed at the track.
Eighty km south of Hellfire Pass, the railroad crosses the River Kwai in the town of Kanchanaburi–site of the work camp where all prisoners and laborers were processed.
The bridge is primarily remembered because of its portrayal in the 1957 film The Bridge on the River Kwai, which depicts the harsh conditions and forced labor endured by Allied POWs, making it a powerful symbol of the brutality of war and the sacrifices made by captives.
Nowadays, the bridge can be crossed on foot or with a small tourist train that runs back and forth.
The Kanchanaburi War Cemetary, just down the road, is the final resting place of nearly 7,000 Commonwealth soldiers who participated in building the Burma-Thailand Railway.
Their mission is commemorated across a manicured lawn of gravestones,
and memorials.
It was a solemn day of remembrance in Kanchanaburi, which also came with a telling lunchtime reminder of WWII’s Hellfire experience…
Rivalry serves as a profound motivator, compelling individuals to elevate their performance. It fuels our ambition and stimulates our creative capacities. Additionally, it sharpens our concentration and tests our boundaries.
At its most constructive, rivalry fosters a form of competition that can lead to significant achievements.
For example, had it not been for Gutzom Borglum’s monumental conversion of Tunkasila Sakpe Paha into Mt. Rushmore(1927-1941), there might never have been a Crazy Horse Memorial located 16 miles from Borglum’s masterpiece.
Afterall, it was Korczak Ziolkowski, Borglum’s assistant at Mt. Rushmore who imagined the Lakota mountainside transformed into the world’s largest sculpture of a 19th century Sioux chief on a horse.
As a work-in-progress since 1948, the completed head of Crazy Horse stands at 60 feet, matching the measure of George Washington’s image.
Similarly, visionary architect Frank Lloyd Wright designed Taliesin as his estate-studio outside Spring Green, Wisconsin. Wright’s organic design followed his affinity for infusing natural elements into his habitats (Prairie Stylings).
Forty-eight years later, Alex Jordan–although not professionally trained as an architect–drew inspiration from Wright’s Taliesin, and began construction on his own homestead, the iconic and certainly eccentric House on a Rock–only 6 miles down the same road, on WI-23.
In the hills of Chiang Rai, Thailand a similar rivalry exists between teacher and student, with their competing visions of divinity and righteousness expressed through different, symbolic colors: Chalermchai Kositpipat’s gleaming, ornate White Temple…
versus Puttha Kabkaew’s psychedelic Blue Temple, which borrowed heavily from his mentor’s neo-traditional style of Buddhist art. And we got to explore both of them!
We departed Chiang Mai for Chaing Rai, first passing through Thaweesin Hot Springs, our timely rest stop, and Thailand’s highest elevation thermal waters–where we stretched our legs, soaked our feet,
and where a Happy Room attendant eagerly pointed us in the right direction.
After arriving at the White Temple (Wat Rong Khun), we were greeted by a Transformer,
who seemed to reflect the otherworldly characteristics of the temple grounds.
The details behind Chalermchai’s bid to rebuild the crumbling temple in the village of Rong Khun are legendary.
In 1997, Chalermchai committed to self-fund the project as an offering to Buddha after a national economic downturn threatened its reconstruction. He did so for love of country, love of Buddha, and his love for the King.
He cast the chapel, the Sukavadee Bridge, the crematorium, and other prayer halls in white as a symbol of purity and spiritual enlightenment.
The mirrored tiles represent Buddha’s wisdom, which shines across the mortal world and the universe.
Silver Bodhi trees in public squares and walkways hold the wishes of thousands of visitors who pray for guidance and enlightenment.
Other buildings have been designed in gold–deliberately chosen to represent attachment to material wealth, and worldly distractions. The ornate Happy Room building is one such preoccupation,
while the golden bridge, ironically carries visitors to the golden gallery and gift shop.
At the White Temple, nothing is truly as it seems. Even the monk who adorns the chapel alter has been cast in wax.
The striking artistry and rich cultural symbolism elevate the experience and compel introspection at every moment. Within the Ubosot—where photography is prohibited—captivating murals that blend contemporary references and historical motifs vividly portray the eternal struggle between good and evil. Colorful representations of political figures, Star Wars characters, and Disney icons convey a compelling truth: rebirth, karma, and the cosmic balance of the universe stand as the ultimate rewards.
Puttha Kabkaew’s philosophical and spiritual manifesto clearly aligns with his mentor’s, Chalermchai Kositpipat, and it’s on full display–less than 10 miles away–at the Blue Temple (Wat Rong Suea Ten).
The temple’s name translates to House of the Dancing Tiger as a testament to the wildlife that once roamed freely over temple grounds a century ago.
Puttha’s cerulean-blue facade symbolizes the importance of meditation and inner peace, while gold accents represent enlightenment and emphasize the architecture.
The temple’s interior features a large statue of a white porcelin Buddha…
surrounded by surreal, contemporary Buddhist art.
The Blue Temple is protected by fantastical, celestial creatures: like imposing Nagas,
fountain-loving Garudas.
and an Erawan.
Since 2016, the Guardian of Wat Rong Suea Ten has been intent on heralding the word of Buddhism…
But the road to enlightenment is a bit like trying to assemble IKEA furniture—it’s an eternal struggle! Buddhist imagery often showcases the bewildered faces of those in misery, serving as a nagging reminder of the struggles one must overcome to achieve enlightenment.
And one day, with the help of my fellow mortals, I hope to get there!
Bo Sang Village, of Chiang Mai Province, has a 200-year history of producing traditional umbrellas made by and with local resources. But it took a curious and enterprising monk to bring this industry to Bo Sang.
Legend has it that local monk, Phra Intha was gifted a beautifully crafted hand-made paper umbrella by a Burmese worshipper during morning offerings while on a pilgrimage to a Burmese monastery. It was a very thoughtful gift to shield him from the sun.
Impressed by the umbrella’s detailed design and durability, Phra Intha ventured to the worshipper’s Burmese village to discover that the umbrellas were made entirely of sa (mulberry bark) paper over a bamboo frame, and suffused with oil to also help repel rain.
Realizing that the same natural resources were available at his home, the monk saw a golden opportunity for the farmers of Bo Sang to re-create similar umbrellas to enhance their incomes during the post-harvest season.
Phra Intha dedicated himself to mastering the intricate techniques and skills required for umbrella-making. Upon returning to Bo Sang with his newfound knowledge, he eagerly shared it with the local community, igniting a collaborative spirit that led to the establishment of a vibrant village co-operative, with each community creating a component and playing a vital role in the umbrella-making process.
In 1978, the Umbrella Making Center was established by Thavil Buajeen, where every step of the process of hand-crafting stylish umbrellas has been consolidated under one decorative roof in Bo Sang, and where these parasols continue to draw favor from around the world.
Locals from Sa Bong report daily to the Umbrella Center to demonstrate their artisanship. They are mostly elderly women, by appearance. They squat on grass mats, grasping sharp blades with gnarled fingers, but they work so nimbly, so effortlessly, almost blindly at splitting and shaving bamboo rods into precision-sized spokes for the pulley apparatus.
They perform their tasks at individual workstations atop raised platforms that wrap around an open garden which is anchored by a retail outlet. It’s like walking through a living diorama.
It all starts with papermaking. Bark is first harvested from the mulberry tree and soaked for 24 hours. Then it’s boiled with several kinds of ashes for about 3 hours and clean rinsed with water. Next, the pulp is hand-beaten with mallets until fibrous. Thereafter, the fibers are places in a water-filled tank and stirred with a paddle until the fibers are suspended in the water. The fibers are then sifted through a screen and placed in the sun for about 20 minutes, forming sheets of paper that easily peel when dry.
Bamboo framing is prepared according to the umbrella radius.
Each stem is split into 36 spokes for the lower frame,
and precision-shaved for uniformity.
An equivalent number of bamboo ribs are produced for the canopy.
The spokes are assembled and strung between the upper and lower knobs to create the open/close mechanism.
Once the skeleton has been completed,
the paper canopy is applied and trimmed.
The finished product is now ready for detailing,
or indoor use, only.
Leah’s now ready for the 3-day Bo Sang Umbrella Festival which occurs every 3rd week in January.
On January 3, 2025, Blanca Ojanguren Garcia, a 22-year-old Spanish tourist and law student, sustained a life-ending head injury after being shoved by an elephant during a bathing ritual at Koh Yao Elephant Care in Thailand. The mahout (keeper, trainer, companion) in charge of the elephant was charged with “negligence causing death.” Authorities suggested the elephant may have been stressed. (https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/c9wlzz9179do).
Ms. Garcia’s tragedy marked the first fatality of a new year that saw 39 deaths in 2024. In fact, last December 11, a 49-year-old Thai woman was killed by a wild elephant that charged her at Phu Kradueng National Park. (https://www.nationthailand.com/news/general/40044052). She was one of 240 victims of elephant violence over the past 12 years. Consequently, animal rights advocates have renewed efforts to re-examine the ethics behind elephant management in Thailand.
Leah and I were in Hanoi at the time when I first read the headlines, and it immediately carried me back 3 weeks earlier when we were bathing elephants at Elephant EcoVillage–a prearranged activity at an elephant spa selected by Overseas Adventure Travel (OAT)–and it was a glorious time.
We were totally unaware of any danger during our interaction. Our menagerie was docile and compliant.
Nevertheless, humans have a troublesome history with elephants…
The first evidence of elephant domestication was discovered along the Indus River Valley in 2000 BCE–at a time when as many as 20 million elephants roamed the forests of Africa and Asia.
By 700 BCE, Indian elephants were instruments of warfare and combat.
Two centuries later, elephants were dying for sport and entertainment in Roman amphitheaters.
After 1600, warrior elephants lost their advantage on the battlefield as the Gunpowder Revolution gave rise to new military weapons and tactics. Elephants transitioned to beasts of burden.
The 1800s saw the first elephants exploited in circuses.
In 1989, the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species (CITES) banned international trade on elephant ivory, citing poaching as the biggest threat to their very existence.
A 2024 census identified that elephant populations had dwindled to around 450,000 globally, of which only 10% were counted as Asian elephants.
As of 2020, Thailand has tracked 7,300 elephants within its borders,
with up to 3,500 wild elephants occupying 69 forested sanctuaries.
That leaves 3,800 captive elephants who rely on tourism to pay for their continuing support and welfare. Conservation organizations range anywhere from “observation-only” shelters…
to “rescue centers” that promote elephant riding as a VIP amenity.
Asian Captive Elephant Working Group (ACEWG), a group of regional elephant specialists, veterinarians, researchers, and conservationists acknowledge that:
Closing all elephant tourism venues is unrealistic if there are no alternative livelihoods for mahouts with elephants.
Suitable habitats for reintroducing elephants to the wild have been marginalized by a loss of forest from over-logging.
Elephants are intelligent and mobile animals with a highly developed social structure. Their complex needs require professional management and care protocols.
Elephants–captive or wild–pose a safety risk to humans and must be managed accordingly.
While there are no easy explanations surrounding Human-Elephant Conflict, our half-day experience at Elephant EcoValley was designed to: “…share the elephants’ history, their culture, their current environment, and their relationship with the human species—compassionately and scientifically. “
Ben, our guide, introduced us to Tata, a 40-year-old female, and her mahout for the past 12 years, who has tirelessly devoted himself to Tata’s daily care, as a parent would care for a child.
Leah and I became fast friends with Tata,
but so did everyone else in our group, as she obediently posed with each of us.
There was also an educational component to our visit. We spent some time in their museum loading up on facts and understanding about elephant evolution, anatomy, behavior and welfare.
After a satisfying lunch of regional specialties,
we focused our attention on the prodigious appetite and eating habits of these magnificent beasts who typically spend 16 to 18 hours a day foraging for an array of grass, plants, bushes, fruit, twigs, leaves, roots, and tree bark–each vital for providing a mix of essential minerals and nutrients.
But captive elephants don’t always get the nutrition they need that’s necessary for good health. They also require a multi-vitamin to supplement their daily nutritional intake, and it was our job to produce them from a variety of ingredients.
The recipe called for crushing salt and aloe vera together in a mortar. Then cooked rice, tamarind, and bananas were added to the stump. Finally, we combined moonseed, Lasia, sugarcane, sedge, schefflera, Bermuda grass, and fresh pineapple to the mix and mashed it all until gooey and sticky enough to form pills the size of baseballs.
At last, it was time to feed our new friends,
and they couldn’t get enough!
Depending on their size, an Asian elephant can consume up to 300 kilos per day (660 lbs.) or about 18% of their body weight. And that creates a lot of poo. Elephants can defecate between 10-20 times a day, producing 100-150 kilos (220-330 lbs.) of dung per day. But the people at Elephant EcoValley have an answer for that:
Much of the dung is collected every day;
washed to remove the debris;
sent through a thrasher to separate the fibers from the pulp;
and screened through the slurry…
until finally drying into a sheet of poo paper that doesn’t stink!
Our time at Elephant EcoVillage was a delight, and none of us ever felt threatened or considered that we were exploiting the elephants. On the contrary, these were pampered pachyderms.
It’s uncertain if authorities and activists can agree on balancing eco-tourism with elephant protection, but with education and resources, ethical and sustainable practices can be achieved to benefit both elephants and the community in the End.
After touching down at Chiang Mai International Airport, the stark contrast to Bangkok was immediately apparent. The air was cooler, humidity was dryer, and the AQI was no longer borderline, breathtaking.
We were at the gateway to the Thai highlands, in sight of Doi Suthep (elev. 5500 ft), and we were trading skylines for landscapes.
Exploring Chiang Mai’s heritage–rich with unique Lanna-style architecture, art, sculptures, handicrafts, and ancient temples–gave us the cultural opium we were all craving, with insightful opportunities to:
dive deeper into Buddhism (at Wat Phan On, inside the ancient city wall);
experience the folklore (of traditional Lanna Thai dancing);
admire the folk art (of a master carver from Baan Jang Nak);
appreciate the artisanship (of a reformed Karen Tribe villager);
savor the Lanna cuisine (of a traditional Khantoke dinner);
and relish the view (from atop an artisanal coffee farm).
Tour highlights while visiting Chiang Mai included a nature walk through Mae Kampong Village…
which culminated in a hike up Mae Kampong Waterfall’s flume gorge.
Our journey continued to the remote village of Ban Buak Khang, where master carver, Phet Wiriya combined his childhood passion for wood carving with his deep affection for elephants…
culminating in “Baan Jang Nak” (a house full of elephants), a renowned studio that offers Lanna wood carvers an outlet to hone their prodigious fabricating skills.
At Baan Nai Soi village, we visited a community of Burmese refugees known as Karen, whose tribe crossed miles of Burmese jungle into Mae Hong Son province during 1985 to avoid Myanmar’s political persecution.
Consequently, Thai authorities designated 3 relocation camps within the Highlands,
which over time and not without controversy have evolved into tourist destinations, where “longneck” women generate income by putting themselves on display–not unlike a “human zoo”–for a $10 admission ticket.
Mothers invite their girls at the age of 5 to begin the process by winding a brass coil across their shoulders, beginning with about 3 1/2 pounds of metal and adding inches until they’ve accrued more than 11 pounds.
Periodically, women will exchange the coil for a longer one, calling for more turns–ultimately reaching 22 pounds of down pressure. But longer necks are actually more of an illusion. The weight of the brass bears down on the clavicle, compressing the rib cage, and pulling up 3 to 4 thoracic vertebrae into the neck. While the neck itself is not lengthened, the appearance of a stretched neck is created by the deformation of the clavicle.
While beauty is indeed in the eye of the beholder, it’s essential to recognize the complex and competing narratives surrounding the beauty of longneck Karen women. Anthropologists have suggested that long necks may have served as a form of protection, perhaps making these women less appealing to other tribes and thus safeguarding them from a future of slavery. Conversely, it’s believed that the coils would embellish a Karenni’s beauty by highlighting the sex appeal of her elongated neck.
Another perspective is that these coils create a striking resemblance to dragons, a significant symbol in Kayan folklore, which adds a layer of cultural richness to their appearance. Additionally, the idea that the coils might offer protection against biting tigers–whether in a literal or symbolic sense–reflects a deep understanding of the challenges these women might face, blending beauty with resilience.
In another instance of culture shock, we visited Wat Chedi Luang, a 600-year-old cultural landmark located in the historic center of Chiang Mai, and once home to the venerated Emerald Buddha (subsequently, relocated to Wat Phra Kaew in Bangkok in 1551).
It’s also home to the Inthakhin city pillar–protected within a nearby shrine,
and accessible for most to view, but with a major caveat!
Women should take note: that Thailand’s guarantee of gender equality comes with red strings attached.
Photographing the entirety of the Reclining Buddha at Wat Pho is no small feat!
The soles of Buddha’s feet measure 3 meters high and 4.5 meters long. While Paul Simon was singing about “Diamonds on the Soles of her Shoes,” Buddha was “kickin’ it” with mother-of-pearl inlays. Each foot is distinguished by 108 panels featuring icons of flowers, dancers, white elephants, tigers, and altar symbols. A chakra (energy point) has been planted in the middle.
But back to Wat Pho for some historical perspective:
Wat Pho is a temple complex of 40 structures spanning 80,000 sq ft,
It’s rich history dates back to the reign of King Phetracha (1688–1703), who is credited for constructing the first temple of Wat Pho, prior to the collapse of the ancient city of Ayutthaya (1351-1767).
However, it’s King Rama I (1737-1809), who moved the capital city to Bangkok after Ayutthaya fell to the Burmese in 1767, thus assuring the revival and rehabilitation of Wat Pho, and its designation as Bangkok’s most important monastic enclave. His ashes are housed within Phra Ubosot–Wat Pho’s most sacred building–beneath the Buddha, also rescued from Ayutthaya.
Of the 95 chedis scattered throughout the complex, the four tallest rise 42m and contain the ashes of Rama’s 3 successors. Chinese guardians offer protection.
The first chedi to be built by Rama I holds the remnants of the once great Buddha recovered from Ayutthaya, after the Burmese stripped it of its gold. The story goes:
Additionally, 400 Buddha’s were salvaged from northern Thailand and aligned along the cloister walls.
and courtyards–
while 4 other groups of 5 chedis were erected for the ashes of royal family members.
Wat Pho has long been considered a great center for higher education. Phra Mondop contains the Buddhist library, and houses preserved palm leaves inscribed with Buddha’s teaching.
Wat Pho is regarded Thailand’s first public university, training students in religion, science, and literature through its many murals and sculptures. In fact, medical scholars during the reign of Rama III (1824-1851) introduced 60 inscribed plaques to adorn its pavilions–30 each for the front and back of the human form–illustrating therapeutic points and energy pathways used in traditional Thai massage.
Several gardens and ponds also populate the grounds…
making it ideal as a backdrop for posing.
But the star of the show is the Reclining Buddha–not because it reclines (which is a familiar representation of his penultimate hours on Earth before his ascension)
–but because of its stature.
The Reclining Buddha extends 46 meters and stands/reclines 15 meters tall.
The statue and its subsequent enclosure (Building 29) were commissioned by Rama III in 1832.
Buddha’s right arm supports a head embellished with hundreds of chedi tresses, which rests upon two box-pillows encrusted with multi-colored, glass mosaics.
We would have meditated on this marvel forever, until Marc, a fellow traveler on our journey sounded the gong…
signaling our time to move on to our next adventure!
No visit to Bangkok is complete without a tour of The Grand Palace, simply because it’s beyond comparison.
Consider the enormity and scale of the site.
Covering over 2.3 million sq ft, its walled, rectangular space has evolved over the course of 200 years…
into a myriad of ornamental buildings,
grand halls,
and gilded pavilions…
surrounded by manicured lawns,
lavish gardens,
and decorative courtyards.
Much more than a royal residence that has housed generations of the Chaki dynasty, it was also the seat of power and governance until the abolition of Thailand’s monarchy in 1932.
Currently, it’s Bangkok’s largest tourist attraction (8 million visitors a year),
although it continues as an important backdrop for ceremonies and state functions, with royal offices still intact.
The Grand Palace is also the site of the Royal Chapel–known as Wat Phra Kaew–
which houses the Emerald Buddha–a 26-inch jade statue cloaked in solid gold and diamonds–which is considered Thailand’s most sacred icon and key to its good fortune and prosperity.
Photography within Wat Phra Kaew is absolutely forbidden,
but then, a photograph exists online with attribution.
กสิณธร ราชโอรสt
Only the King of Thailand is permitted to touch the Emerald Buddha (three times a year in order to change its shroud according to the season).
However, Leah was able to pet the nose of the bronze guardian lion protecting the temple.
his private residence-turned-heritage museum, replete with a gallery, restaurant, and boutique–
all dedicated to Jim Thompson’s love of ancient Siam.
The compulsory spirit house surrounded by lush gardens–situated according to Feng Shui principles–informed us that we were protected from the steel and glass towers that enveloped us.
An English-speaking docent guided us through gardens and living quarters, which showcased archetypal Thai tapestries,
ancient wood carvings,
Buddhist watercolors…
and fanciful porcelain tea sets, among a dazzling array of other riches…
which inspired Thompson’s line of patterned silk fabrics used in clothing, furnishing, and accessories,
such that he single-handedly revolutionized Thailand’s handicraft industry during the 1950s and 1960s, earning him the moniker of the “Silk King of Thailand.”
His home has become an amalgam of Southeast Asian cultures…
and museum-worthy artifacts that he collected throughout the years,
sprinkled with practical flourishes, while serving as de facto US Ambassador to Thailand and founding the Thai silk company that still bears his name.
His status as a raconteur and entertainer of celebrities and royalty was legendary, but abruptly came to an end on Easter Sunday, March 1967. He had visited a friend’s house in the Cameron Highlands of central Malaysia, and took an afternoon walk through the jungle that day, never to be seen again.
Despite a land and air search effort involving hundreds of full-time trackers across multiple agencies and governments, it seems Jim Thompson disappeared without a trace.
There are many who have traveled down the rabbit hole of theories and conspiracies, determined to unravel the truth and possible whereabouts of his remains.
Yet the legacy Jim Thompson left behind continues to this day, and Thailand’s prosperous silk industry remains his greatest contribution.
I’m not usually nostalgic. However, it’s been 7 years since my last total eclipse, and it’s been 7 years since this blog was created. So, it’s fitting that these two anniversaries should align like heavenly bodies.
Unfortunately, I will not be in the pathway of “No Sun Day on Monday,” but I will virtually celebrate by dusting off the experience that Leah and I memorialized in Corvallis, Oregon.
Happy Eclipse Day, everyone!
Dateline August 21, 2017:
A small corner of the sky captured most of America’s attention and imagination on August 21, 2017. It was the celestial event of the millennia that brought a momentary pause to many people’s lives as they looked up and marveled at the source of our very existence. Leah and I had our own corner of the parking lot at Benton County Fairgrounds in Corvallis, OR.
A party atmosphere surrounded us. Some were expecting a spiritual awakening, and some were interested in the science of the occasion, but for most of us it was a social connection. We sat around with family, friends and strangers, looking goofy in our mylar glasses…
We all held our collective breath at the precise moment the moon cloaked the sun. And then there were cheers, with all of us sharing this moment in time as sun worshippers.
For one brief moment, we were all related. For one instant during totality, we had turned the corner to become the human race.
And just like that it was gone in a flash, and a tear passed the corner of my eye.
Sadly, it’s going to be a very long time until our next solar eclipse, or another shared moment of total community.
Two of South America’s great urban centers–Santiago, Chile and Buenos Aires, Argentina served as designated transfers on our journey to the bottom of the world, but time would not allow Leah and me to explore our interim surroundings to the fullest. Nevertheless, we hit the ground running,
utilizing the long summer days to our advantage and netting a few memorable moments and postcard pearls to satisfy our wanderlust.
Santiago is a vibrant capital sandwiched between the Coastal Range and the Andean Mountains, and best experienced from the summit of San Cristobal Hill–
accessible by cable car from the east,
or by funicular from the west.
For many Catholics, the pilgrimage to the top of Cerro San Cristobal is incomplete without hiking to the Sanctuary of the Immaculate Conception,
where a statue of the Virgin Mary rises 14 meters from her pedestal.
The Catholic Archdiocese is based at the neoclassical Metropolitan Cathedral at the Plaza de Armas,
where it stands as the centerpiece of the square.
The opulence of the sky-blue frescos and the cathedral’s gilded columns are a testament to the hundreds of artisans who toiled for decades to evoke the aesthetics of Tuscany and Rome.
On the civics side of the peso chileno, there is also a wealth of Beaux-Arts architecture that dominates the cityscape, from the Supreme Court building…
to Constitution Square.
Leah and I initially arrived in Santiago, Chile, only to fly out the following day to the Antofagasta region, where the Atacama Desert figured large in our itinerary (see Atacama Desert). Then it was back to Santiago, for an overnight, before an early departure to Buenos Aires, where our time was sorely limited to an amazing rib-eye dinner in the midst of Monserrat,
followed by a necessary “walk-off-our-meal” stroll through the city’s oldest district, replete with sidewalk bistros,
political art,
and public buildings defended by commemorative art,
and protected by full-figured gargoyles.
The following afternoon, we arrived in Ushuaia, acclaimed as the southernmost city on the planet.
Although our ship Viking Octantis awaited us at the harbor (just kidding),
Leah and I still managed to appreciate the Patagonian panorama surrounding the waterfront,
the inland tributes and monuments,
and the resplendent gardens scattered throughout the town.
Ushuaia surprised me. I anticipated a sleepy town, but discovered a hive of trendy shops, boutique hotels, and pricey outfitters. The scenery was unparalleled, and the weather was ideal. It seemed the perfect segue to an exciting Viking expedition.
And so, the time had come to embark on our adventure to the White Continent by first surrendering to the dreaded Drake Passage…
Rather than go thru the details of how we got here, suffice to say that 2 days of inconvenient travel brought us to the Chilean Andes…
to experience the highest and driest desert on earth (averaging 13,000 ft. elevation), where temperatures can fluctuate between 0oC and 25oC, and rainfall averages 2 mm of rain per year with a humidity factor of .02%.
The area is so vast, it spans Chile, Peru, Argentina, and Bolivia.
But despite the hostile environment, flora and fauna still manages to survive.
Our first destination was the Soncor Sector of Los Flamencos National Preserve,
where a variety of native flamingos congregate to feed on brine shrimp that flourish in pools along the salt flats.
Although the park flamingos were unidentifiable from a distance,
it became easier to identify their individual characteristics the closer we got to them,
distinguishing the flock as Andean flamingos.
Our next destination was Valle de la Luna (Valley of the Moon), another sector of Los Flamencos–only 10 minutes from San Pedro, across a dusty road built for vehicles with dependable suspension.
The park was aptly named by Gustavo Le Paige, a Belgian missionary who pioneered much of the archeological research of San Pedro de Atacama in the 1950’s.
The sector captures the essence of the region’s vastness and aridity, so much so, that NASA tested its Mars rovers on the surface to simulate future planetary exploration.
Salt and sodium nitrate crystals are found throughout the Atacama Desert, as the dry air and lack of vegetation allows them to collect on the surface.
Although the region also contains precious metals including an abundance of copper, silver and gold, it was the large cache of potassium nitrate that brought the railroads and development to Atacama, turning the region into a hub for culture and commerce by the 2nd half of the nineteenth century.
Today, large reserves of precious metals such as lithium provide a significant source of revenue for private and state-owned mining companies.
In fact, as of January 14, Chile’s SQM, the world’s 2nd largest producer of lithium has suspended its operations in Atacama due to 500 protestors from indigenous communities in the Antofagasta region who’ve been blockading roads–immobilizing workers, supplies and lithium to and from the mines–demanding that they be included in negotiations between SQM and the Chilean government.
Let’s hope that this conflict can be resolved quickly, so we may continue to feed our global appetite for electric vehicles.
Rather than basecamp in Kansas City, Leah and I opted for something more pastoral, which we found at Lake Shawnee, the crown jewel of Shawnee County parks in Topeka, KS.
More than 1 million people visit Lake Shawnee each year for festivals, golf outings, ballfield tournaments, boating, fishing and camping or to hike/bike the Lake Shawnee Trail.
While circling the 6.5-mile lakeshore trail on our e-bikes,
we discovered a resident friend of the park getting his tan on,
We took a detour through the Ted Endley Gardens, a 37-acre botanical garden in the northwest corner of the lake with spectacular blossoms, although I was drawn to a wildflower display reminiscent of Claude Monet.
Our only commitment while in the vicinity called for an excursion to Kansas City to claim tickets for the Dirty Heads, an American reggae band on national tour with my son, Noah acting as VIP concierge. In fact, this is the job he chose over working as the Jam Tram admin during the Bonnaroo Music and Arts Festival, from where we last left (see Bonnaroo–the Logistics).
With doors at the concert venue opening at 6pm, Leah and I had an afternoon to kill, so we settled on an unlikely museum that was annexed to the local Harley-Davidson dealership celebrating the life and times of Evel Knievel–an unlikely choice for Topeka, considering that Evel’s hometown was Butte, Montana in 1938.
Evel was a showman and a stuntman without rival during the 70’s, amazing fans around the world with his push-the-envelope antics on his motorcycle.
The museum has plenty of requisite motorcycle displays showcasing his many exploits.
Evel was very good at two things during his jumping career: breaking records and breaking bones (433 fractures, which is a Guinness world record).
There were many successes…
and epic fails as well…
Those who followed Evel’s career 75+ jumps will never forget the hoopla and disappointment surrounding his Snake River launch.
But the pride of the museum is Evel’s “Big Red,” which also answers the question of “Why Topeka?” of all places.
Simply put, Topeka’s Historic Harley-Davidson dealer, Mike Patterson put up the money for the 13,000 sq. ft. expansion, and funded the Mack truck restoration.
Visitors can delight over Lathan McKay’s world-largest collection of paraphernalia behind ropes and glass, from costumes…
to merchandise…
to memorabilia.
There’s even a VR-enabled activity for an extra $5.
Much has happened since leaving Bonnaroo for Denver. There’s been a long-distance get-together in Rogers, Arkansas with a nursery school buddy from Pittsburgh…
and a long-overdue reunion with family from Pittsburgh, who now reside in Overland Park, Kansas.
We’ve also kept a watchful eye on the weather–always tracking the extreme conditions that have been swirling around us, the likes of tornadoes, hail, flooding, land slides, and record-setting heat streaks–yet with each destination, we’ve mostly managed to dodge a bullet.
There was also a handful of visits to some iconic sites along the way, and some less familiar, but definitely photo worthy.
Our first stop took us to Parker’s Crossroads, halfway between Nashville and Memphis, and the site of a celebrated Civil War skirmish in West Tennessee.
It was the final battle for Confederate Brig. Gen. Nathan Bedford Forrest, who managed to outfox the Union brigades of Col. Cyrus L. Dunham and Col. John W. Fuller by escaping with his regiment across the Tennessee River and avoiding certain defeat in the face of an enemy nearly twice the size with two times the artillery.
Leah and I took the walking tour past interpretive markers depicting critical moments in the battle, and observed that Parker’s Crossroads battlefield, while a testament to the 737 fallen soldiers,
should also be appreciated for its serenity and pastoral scenes.
Only 45 miles west of us was Tennessee Safari Park in Alamo,
where we looped around a drive-thru zoo for an hour with 4 buckets of animal nachos for hungry wildlife roaming freely throughout the fenced prairie. We were immediately greeted by an aggressive mob of ostriches and camels that descended upon our truck sensing a meal was imminent.
With the passenger window down, Leah tentatively extended the bucket beyond the door, only to have the bucket ripped from her hand by a dromedary with no manners and fewer eating skills.
Kibble went flying everywhere–inside and outside the truck. Even today, I’m still fishing out morsels between the seats. Lesson learned.
However, the lure of food was a perfect ploy for pet portraits…
Continuing west, we traveled to Little Rock, home to the Clinton Presidential Center, dedicated on November 18, 2004.
We parked the Airstream directly across the Arkansas River in North Little Rock by a decommissioned WW II tug and sub…
and cycled the long way around the riverwalk trail (some of it kinda sketchy),
past the Big Dam Bridge…
until we circled back 8 mi. to Clinton’s library–a hulking structure clad in glass screens that cantilevers over the Arkansas River as a symbol of “building a bridge to the 21st century.” And it was air conditioned!
The building that houses Clinton’s legacy is enormous enough to collect and archive 2 million photos, 80 million document pages, 21 million e-mails, and 79,000 artifacts from the Clinton years (1993-2001).
Appealing graphics break down the headlines and the issues of the time: year by year, month by month, surrounded by wings dedicated to domestic policy, diplomacy, economy, education, civil rights, and scandal. It’s all on display throughout the Main Hall, modeled after the Long Room of Trinity College in Dublin.
Streaming thru America 