R&R w/P2H3

I have just completed a time-honored tradition afforded to international workers, ex-patriots and war weary soldiers: Rest & Relaxation. Granted, I do not feel the stress of living in war torn & impoverished locale’s as I grew up in New Orleans. Still, when I am given $1000 and told to leave the country for a week, I follow orders. As for where to go, reasonably close was a requirement as the March BlitzFlug to America, though worthwhile, did not exactly recharge the batteries. My options were therefore limited to Istanbul (OK, so I need a break from Islam), Moscow (Try rolling into Washington, D.C. and not speak a word of English), Africa (No.), India & Thailand. The last two were colonized by the British and are friendly to folks of my persuasion. Bottom line, I like Thai food better.

Bangkok is an international city of the first rate and had a district for backpackers like myself. Interestingly enough seems all the Americans there had dread locks and lots of tattoos. The plan was to do the city for a day or so and head to the beach in Pattaya, a couple of hours away. China Town in BKK was like all the others on the planet with bootleg copies of everything with a trademark. This week’s hot item: the Da Vinci Code at a whopping $2.50. There were Starbucks, skyscrapers and temples for all tastes. Unfortunately, the rainy season arrived with flooding in the North and I looked for an interim destination before heading to the beach. The options were elephant riding in Chang Mai and an invitation to run with the Hash House Harriers of Phnom Phen. It literally came down to a coin toss with P2 the winner. Upon arrival, the place gave me the creeps. The markets were dingier than what I saw in Africa and a guy told me I could buy a human arm with bracelets still attached. Lovely. All the while, I could hear Buddhist monks chanting over loud speakers across town. At least the Imans of Kabul stop after 10 minutes following their 3:45am impersonation of Tarzan on depressants.

The place further endeared me when I took a trip to the “Killing Fields” of Pol Pot featuring a towering monument full of sculls in a field of excavated mass graves. Seems after we vacated Vietnam, he took charge and sought to set up the perfect communist state. Of course to do so means a lot of killing and he set out to do just that. Most think that he killed the educated and political class, but in the end, it turned into a purge like that of his idol, good ole’ Joe Stalin. In the end, Vietnam rolled in, because they could, and ran the guy out of power. Result: 2 million dead and a feature film tailored to the morbid and depressed. OK, I saw the movie in college, but it was the free Friday night movie at the Louisiana Tech Student Center.

As close as I was to splitting town early, I stuck it out and was rewarded. The Phnom Phen Hash House Harriers (P2H3), are part of an international network of renowned beer drinkers from western nations who justify their passion by running in remote areas following trails laid out by a “Hare”. While running through rice paddies I remembered that Cambodia was amongst the most heavily mined nations in the world. There were no explosions. Afterwards, I was deemed a “Spy” and placed on “Ice” (Ice from the beer bucket that is) and fined a cup of beer for that as well as racing at the end of the run. I claimed that I was simply a swift individual but had to take another cup of beer nonetheless. In the end, I was given a fine DANGER! HASH! P2H3 ball cap for my sportsmanship. After the run, I was invited to dinner with the local diehards and more…beer.

Next stop, the beach at Pattaya and some sailing. I checked into my $7/night hotel and grabbed a scooter the next morning to rent a small catamaran. The driver said he knew the right place and 30min later, I was at an outboard motor dealer. Another 30min found us at the proper location but with strong winds having kicked up, there was no sailing to be had. Another day, another adventure: a one-hour boat ride to an undisclosed secret island full of Japanese tourists on jet skis. I managed some reading but the noise and fumes prompted some exploring. I started a trek up a mountain trail and found a more quiet side of the island with an isolated gazebo perched on a cliff overlooking the Gulf of Thailand with a fine view of a dozen other islands. As the final boat was nearing departure, I was on a road I thought would take me to the proper beach. When that was not the case, I ended up getting in a nice run over the mountain trail full of centipedes, perfectly timed to catch the boat as engines were starting.

The remainder of the trip was compromised by food poisoning and spent in my luxury accommodations. I am now back in Springtime Afghanistan. Following a morning run in which I wore shorts for the 1st time in Kabul, a Coalition convoy got in an accident and somebody got shot. Seems the natives are restless and are up to some mischief in town. I can hear occasional distinct sound of AK-47’s about a mile away from the house and I just received a call from the UN asking me to prepare the plane for possible evacuation to Islamabad tomorrow. No need to worry. I am “Rested and Relaxed”.

JLH

P.S. The UN enjoys making a fuss over small matters. We are all at ease here and sense no danger whatsoever.

Where the Buddhists hang out

Rice Paddies

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