Urban Foraging: Part 1

Today I took a class at The Public School with Urban Forager Ava Chin. She taught us the basics of identifying a few very prolific "weeds" growing right here in the streets and parks of NYC. I'm going to share some of these findings here, but before I do, I'd like to remind you that it's best to forage in elevated green spaces away from houses and streets. You never know just how much lead may be in your soil...

One of the tastiest plants we found today was Poor Man's Pepper. Don't let it's name fool you. Poor Man's Pepper has an amazing wasabi like punch. Ava first spotted it poking through the side walk as we strolled down Willoughy Street. We opted not to taste the pods of this particular specimen as it was literally breaking through the street, but we found a less threatening patch right outside the wall of Fort Greene Park. Poor Man's Pepper tends to grow in thin stalks with a number of bottle brush tops where the flat green pods and white flowers of the plant sit. The pods are where the punch is... have a bite, and you won't be disappointed.

Time to get back to business

I've realized its really time for me to return to this blog. Not only to recount my travels and finish putting my photos together, but also because I've begun reverting to the New York lifestyle I chose to avoid upon returning. I've been walking fast, getting annoyed with slow moving people, avoiding eye contact, and becoming less open to possibility in life. I want to bring the positive energy I accessed within myself in Southeast Asia, back into the New York Rebecca. So, I'm starting by continuing with my travel journal. Here it goes...

July 10

I took a ten hour bus from Phnom Penh to Stung Treng, a small town in the north of Cambodia. Stung Treng basically acts as an overnight stop for tourists before crossing into Laos. On the bus I met a couple from Russia and a couple from Belgium and we all decided to stay in Stung Treng for the night and hopefully meet up again at the border to Laos.

There is really only one thing for tourists to do in Stung Treng, and that is to walk to the river front for beers and dinner at a hip guest house. As many of you know, my sense of direction is less than perfect, so as I set out to find said guest house I actually started walking away from the river. This turned out to be a very good mistake. At first I spent time walking through the dirt roads of the village, accepting surprised greetings from unsuspecting locals and chasing full grown pigs from lot to lot. Figuring I should probably head back to "my" side of town, I moved in a direction which I thought would get me home. It was in fact the proper direction, but before getting back to my hotel I noticed a group of kids playing basketball outside of what looked like a school. The court was half size and was next to a sand volleyball court. I watched the boys play for a while and then asked if I could join. That was a gutsy move- it's been such a long time since I've played ball - they totally wore me out (not very hard to do I must point out)! We played three on three and I had a hard time just getting across the court! But I played for a while longer- the guys said I was a good player- and then I had to tell them I was done. I sat out and watched for a while and then saw a tall white lady come cycling into the yard. She sat down with some of the kids and spot to them in Khmer. I asked her what the place was, and it turned out to be a church. She's been there for 12 years I think. They call her sister.

The idea that the play yard was a church immediately made me uncomfortable, but I decided to stick around and find out some more about it. The church is like a youth center, it's a place the kids can always go to play and study. They take English and Bible class, it's free, and it's totally voluntary to join.

I ended up staying for quite some time and had a conversation with about five boys ranging in age from 15 - 25. Their English was impressive and they seemed to have high aspirations. One 18 year old told me he wants to become a doctor. It was clear that joining the church community gave these kids access to better education and bigger ideas. (There were also girls at the church but they all seemed to disappear after I got there, none of them wanted to play ball with us) It's a little strange though- as we were talking the kids asked me if I was a Christian. I chose to tell them that I was not, I am Jewish, and they were intent on accepting Judaism because it believes in one God. Same went for Islam. I asked them about their families and the religion they grew up with (mostly Buddhist), and they relayed that not everyone in their community is happy about the Church. Some of the kids chose to go to the church and become Christian even though their families remain Buddhist. It's a difficult situation. Obviously the church is bringing positive things to the community, but it's also completely brainwashing these kids into thinking Jesus is the only way to go. They were saying things like, I'm sad my family doesn't believe in Jesus, I do what Jesus says, He's the one for me. It saddens me that this kind of community center was very much built upon proselytizing and not just humanitarian goals.

I learned that there is a youth house that many of the boys live in communally. Many of them go there because their parents have too many children to take care of. They cook and clean for themselves, etc. By the time I left it was 8pm and dark. Most of the kids had to be back for dinner and were also concerned that I had not eaten yet! The experience gave me much insight into their small community. I hope they learned from me as well.

Videos from Bali

The scene at the temporary camp on Gunung Agung









Dancing the Ramayana and men chanting the story

Phnom Penh

July 8-9

Phnom Penh was actually one of the most difficult places for me. Not because it was hard to get around and not because I felt pressure to cover the city from top to bottom, but because of the nature of the tourists there. There are so many large groups that I found it difficult to connect with individual travelers. I took the city very casually- more interested in walking around than seeing all the sites. My main purpose there was to get a Lao Visa and despite the unfriendly visa office (which is a stark contrast to the rest of Laos) I did manage to get my visa in one day.

Upon arriving at the Okay Guest House in Phnom Penh I quickly became attached to a driver who shuttled me back and forth between the Laotian Embassy, a travel agency, and various sites around the city. I spent my first evening exploring a small arts district and found a very interesting gallery called the Reyum Institute. It's a non-profit, non-governmental organization devoted to serving, documenting and enriching Cambodian art and culture. There was an exhibition of framed dried leaves with gold paintings on them. I believe the artist's idea was to collect leaves from all over the area surrounding the greater Mekong and paint his/her understanding of Buddhist attributes. It was quite beautiful.

After spending some time there and purchasing a wood cut made by one of the students, I went to Friends, a restaurant run by an NGO. The restaurant gives former street children experience in the hospitality industry. They cook, wait, and clean. A combination of students and teachers run the place. My appetite was so small at that point, maybe just because of the heat, that I couldn't even finish a small greek salad. I spent the rest of the evening walking along the river front amidst various couples, people selling snacks, and what looked like Las Vegas style Buddhist shrines. Its so interesting to see the difference between city life and rural life in Cambodia. The people I met in small villages maintain traditional practices of modesty. Relationships are not made public, and there is certainly no pecking in the street. Because the food supply is so limited, the rural population is so much smaller than locals in Phnom Penh. In the city I saw unabashed displays of affection and tall men and women.

The next morning I went directly to Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum. Tuol Sleng is the former Khmer Rouge S-21 (Security Office 21) Prison where the Democratic Kampuchea regime detained individuals accused of opposing them. Lead by Pol Pot (Big Brother Number 1), the Khmer Rouge was a communist political party that wanted to return Cambodia to an agrarian society without commerce, intellectualism, and classism. In order to do this the Khmer Rouge recruited mostly young rural children between the ages of 10-15 to act as soldiers in the revolution. Some older young people joined the ranks as well and were basically brainwashed into believing that what they were doing was good. They evacuated all intellectuals, doctors, public officials and business men from the cities and sent them out into the fields. The city of Phnom Penh was completely evacuated and destroyed. Between 1975 and 1979 Cambodia experienced a genocide of its own people. The devastation was tragic and is still a very present part of life there today. An estimated 1.5 million people were killed, families were separated and the national infrastructure was completely obliterated (of course the nation still has its king and until he dies, there is no way the country will have a chance for democracy).

So, this museum is one of the prisons where people were detained, kept in small cells with no lavatory, interrogated, tortured and murdered. I went through the museum without taking pictures. I felt like it was improper or perverse to photograph the cells where empty cots and blood stains still remain. In hindsight, I wish I had taken pictures. As documentation, to make the genocide more public.

Its interesting that when I was in the death camps in Poland I took lots of pictures, but here, I felt like they weren't my pictures to take. The suffering here didn't happen to my people, how could I have any right to photograph the remains? This issue comes up for me because I curated a show about this very topic-- using photographs taken by US college students of the concentration camps in Poland. I set up the device of the camera and the object of the photograph as tools for mediating overwhelming experiences. I also described the photograph as a possession, a badge of one's experience. I didn't want to take photographs of Tuol Sleng because I didn't want to possess them, I didn't want a badge to wear that I could show off to others. Now I realize I could have documented my experience not as a badge, but as a message. As a way to preserve the memory and publicize the tragedy, as a warning to prevent history from happening again.

So, I saw the three floors of the prison- the first had large rooms with a single cot, shackles and blood stains. The second was made of wood with small cells. The third had shackles connected to long bars which prevented anyone from moving without the others. They would be tortured by being beaten, strung upside down and lowered into a jar of human excrement, starved, many women were raped. The Khmer Rouge even began executing their own soldiers. Everyone who entered the prison was photographed and these photographs are displayed in the museum. Many foreigners were also executed- Australians, French, Indians, Pakistanis, British, Americans, Canadians etc.

After leaving the museum I went to the Killing Fields where most of these prisoners were taken after interrogation. There are massive graves there where hundreds of skeletons were dug up. They were usually separated by gender and age. I did take one photograph of the memorial stupa which holds more than 8000 skulls arranged by sex and age. I did feel like I needed to provide evidence for the existence of the place.

Another interesting experience I had in Phnom Pehn was going to the National Museum of Cambodia. Many of the sculptures excavated at Siem Reap are kept here. What bothers me about my experience there is that once I saw these fragments of Buddhist and Hindu deities displayed in a museum, I was more interested in them than I had been while actually at Siem Reap. Why do I do this? Have I become so influenced by the "sanctity" of the museum that I can only appreciate the "greatness" of a piece of art if it has been deemed worthy of a museum? This is something that I need to reflect upon.

and so much more...

and another thing

Why did it take me so long to find a chilled out coffee shop with free wireless, power outlets, and employees that actually cater to their patrons?

I'm not quite sure how to summarize the event or make an overgeneralizing statement about New Yorkers, as I would obviously love to do, so I think I'll just describe the situation.

My friend Lauren generously offered to give me her copy of Mac OS X Tiger so I can more easily add pictures to my picasa albums and my blog. Thus, I planned on spending this lovely Tuesday at a coffee shop doing just that. Choosing to be a conscious citizen of local New York establishments, I sought out a neighborhood coffee shop instead of going to one of the many chain stores that are all over the East Village. I set up shop in Cafe Pick Me Up on 9th Street and Avenue A. My first problem was finding an outlet to plug my computer into (you know how quickly Mac batteries burn out- I'm on my second battery and third extension cord...). I asked a fellow Mac user if he would mind plugging his power cord into the outlet behind him so I could plug mine into the one in front of him and run the cord along the floor to my table. No problem there. Then, the owner of the shop promptly approached me with an exasperated voice and anxious manner and said "you can not run your cord along the floor because if some trips I am responsible for it." This is a completely reasonable request, one which I have no problem accommodating. In fact, I calmly said "of course" not problem. And found another seat that allowed for a less intrusive stringing of the cord (and I checked with her before doing so to make sure it was ok). I was just annoyed or rather, taken aback, by the way she approached me. Really, is the situation so dire that you have to use such a worried and burdened tone? Can't you just say "excuse me, I'm afraid someone will trip over your cord, would you mind finding another place to sit that's less intrusive, here let me show you some options."

So, I spent my $7.10 on an iced chai and coconut blondie and settled in to start my work. But of course, in order to get an internet connection I had to pay $4 for two hours. Really? Didn't I just spend a whole weeks Laotian salary on a beverage and snack? You want me to pay for internet too? Why do you advertise internet if you're gonna make me pay for it- can you be more clear please? Anyway- as I was hot, frustrated, and unable to get online, I decided to leave Cafe Pick Me Up and try out the more commercial THINK on Bowery and Bleecker. Ah yes, free internet, exorbitant prices, but only one single power outlet in the whole place. Wonderful, thanks.

So here I am, finally writing my blog. Where am I you ask? Why I'm at 17 Bleecker. Gotta say, it's an oldie, but it's a goodie. Thanks 17 Bleecker for still being the same reliable cafe I sat in three years ago as I began the search for my very own East Village apartment. As I leave this pocket of Manhattan for the more spacious and less expensive enclave of Lefferts Gardens, Brooklyn I will remember your cool air, ample supply of power outlets, and free internet. Although your iced chai leaves a bit to be desired, I can always count on your supply of vitamin water.

Dealing with New York

I'm feeling frustrated with the sexism in New York City. Having just returned from five weeks in Southeast Asia, one would think I'd be glad to be back in an environment where women are supposed to be equal to men, qualified for the same jobs, empowered as thinkers and doers, independent, able to feel comfortable living and traveling alone... Then why is it that I'm feeling more objectified and more paranoid for my safety than I did anywhere in Southeast Asia? Why is it that I am the person labeled "out of control" when I respond in like manner to the man in the street who made an inappropriate comment to me? Why am I the one who is causing trouble? Why should I "know better"?

The hypocrisy of America is no different from the hypocrisy in the rest of the world.

And, I'm back...

Yep, I've arrived in NYC and am back in my East Village apartment. The next few weeks look like they will be filled with more joy, excitement, and reflection. But first- I'd like to fill in the details of the rest of my journey... Rewind your mind to the second week of July.

So, back in Kratie- one of the main things that made me uncomfortable was the sight of a man beating a puppy to death on the sidewalk. I know this isn't a usual occurrence, but the shock of it was tremendous. I was walking home from the internet cafe when i heard this yelping. At first I thought it was a child whining, but as I identified the location of the sound, I saw in the darkness, a man banging something limp against the pavement. From where I was it looked like a rag doll. As I put the sound and shape together I realized it was a puppy. From that moment I wanted to get out of Kratie. I rushed to where I was meeting a fellow traveler for dinner and told her about it. It was at that point that I decided to change my plans to go trekking in Laos instead of Cambodia.

The next day Laura and myself (she's a Finnish woman that works for Unesco and has been traveling for about 8 months) got on the back of some motorbikes and took a tour of the sites around Kratie. We went to Phnom Sombok, a small hill with an active Wat. The views from the top were pretty great. A number of elderly nuns still live there and seem to look after the cackle of cats, dogs and monkeys that hand out around their temple. It was really a sight to see the monkeys chasing after the dogs and pulling their legs! I have some good pictures. The wat in Phnom Sombok was the first i had scene that incorporated a Christian kind of pictorial narration of the life of Buddha. Brightly painted panels adorned the walls and ceiling of the temple in a serial manner. Kind of like Giotto's Arena Chapel in Padua. I wonder when it became the norm for monks and nuns to decorate their Wats like this. I wonder if it was learned from an interaction with Christian missionaries. Of course Wats were decorated before this. Wats from the 19th century portray painted walls in the manner of Chinese and Indian wall paintings. a continuous scene that shows repeating characters and does not demarcate space according to rules of western perspective. It does make sense that the artistic traditions would follow from the dominant Chinese and Indian type to the more Christian western type. This region of the world was called Indochina and did evolve into a predominantly Buddhist region through the influences of India and China. Once Western powers invaded the area they brought with them the idioms of western culture and representation.

Anyway- after climbing the hill we went a bit more north to Kampi to try to see some Irrawaddy river dolphins. We were successful!!! Really! Although there are only 70 left out of the 1000 that once made the area of the Tonle Sap lake in the Mekong River their home- we saw a good amount of them! They have long round noses rather than the typical pointy snout you think of when remembering the dolphin show at Sea World. They are a dark blue/gray color and have large flippers and small dorsal fins. I got a few good pictures of their fins and a nice splashing tail shot!! Mostly- I chose to watch the dolphins with my eyes, rather than through the lens of my camera. That was how I operated through most of my trip...
After that we went Sambo and saw the largest Wat in Cambodia with 108 columns. Again, the interior was brightly painted with scenes from Buddha's life. This wat is also famous for the story of the Crocodile and the Princess. I couldn't tell you what that story is now- But I did see a painting of it in an adjacent pavilion. Within the main Wat there were a number of old men who spoke French. They handed me a book that was published by a Cambodian student who investigated the paintings of the crocodile and princess story. Very interesting- well, what i remember of it anyway.

I think that was it for my stay in Kratie. We drove by the requisite rice paddies and farmers. Wooden houses built up on stakes, poor children and families selling sugarcane on the side of the road- and I booked a ticket for Phnom Penh.