I have little
to report today. (But every one of my friends knows that won't result in the
blog entry being any shorter.) As I mentioned yesterday, we are no longer
fighting for position among the teams. We're just enjoying the places,
performing enough of the scavenges to be awed by the land and want to come
back. There is no "voting off" of people here or we probably would
have been eliminated at LAX. Everyone gets to finish the competition, visiting
all 11 countries in 23 days. The rules ensure that you don't turn the adventure
into tourist stops, and they are therefore difficult. For instance, you cannot
locate anything with high tech -- no use of iphones, ipads, internet, etc. You
can't use hotel concierges, professional drivers or tour guides. In fact, you
can use a single cab driver for only two scavenges per nation. The goal is to
force you to interact with the people of the countries and not be divorced from
them via third party intermediaries. The policy is laudable while
simultaneously being irritating.
Most of the
time, we have plane tickets that the event directors, Bill and Pamela (not Pam)
purchased months in advance to take us from one spot to another. Several times
during the event, though, we are asked to get ourselves somewhere -- on our own.
We are the midst of one of those. Those of you who know Casey and me can
already see this as a recipe for potential (if not assured) disaster. I can't
even get socks on my feet without my support staff's assistance and Casey is
too easily distracted by...well, everything. About the only place to which we're
qualified to get ourselves is a county jail. And I don't relish the notion of
lingering in an Asian holding tank where I doubt AC is a particularly high
priority. Several days ago, we were told to get from the Caravelle Hotel in Ho
Chi Minh City, Vietnam to The Plantation (hotel) in Phnom Penh, Cambodia for a
single day of scavenges, then from Phnom Penh to the Heritage Suites (hotel) in
Siem Reap, Cambodia for a "defriefing" at 10 a.m. the next day. We had
less than 48 hours notice of the need to make these travel plans. Um, excuse
me, but if I called my travel agent and told her to make reservations in a
foreign nation on less than two days notice, she would respond, "Now,
Erik, we've talked about such nonsense ad
nauseum and, I thought, resolved it years ago." (Well, she might have
substituted certain unmentionable street lingo for the Latin phrase I used.)
And there's a kick: we can't hire a driver, take a plane or take a cab. Casey,
of course, wanted to buy a moped and have me hold on while he whipped through the
streets and countryside. As you can imagine, I squelched that suggestion rather
quickly.
Bill
created this "get there on your own" thingy right smack in the middle
of the Khmer New Year celebrations, when people are traveling to Cambodia to
party. (I never thought I'd be typing those words, but this would be a great
place for a grand party.) I have no doubt that this decision was intentional.
(Bill is a marvelous person, and I have no doubt would be the first to arrive
on the scene to perform CPR, but he does seem to have a tiny bit of a sadistic
streak.) Of course, the other teams, whom you've already seen before -- they
were machines in The Matrix movies -- got their reservations within minutes of
Bill's announcement. Without Ann Erickson, Amanda or April here, I, of course,
put off the planning until I saw Bill in the hotel late in our Vietnam jaunt
and he implied, in a very subtle way, that I might have waited a bit too long. I
then rushed to the phone and the 10th bus line I called finally had tickets --
for 2 p.m. (it's a six-hour-plus trip). So, we performed additional scavenges
in Vietnam
on Friday morning and got here late in the evening. We leave tonight at 10:30
p.m. on another bus line for yet another six-hour trip to Siem Reap. We'll
arrive at the hotel around 5:30 a.m. Sunday and then meet with the event
director (Bill) at 10 a.m. to report all the scavenges we did in Siem Reap. I haven't
checked the list the scavenges for that locale thoroughly, but unless any of
them involve dream weaving, I believe our meeting will be very short. Of
course, our competitors (except that we're really no longer competing) somehow
managed to get bus tickets for both trips at 7 a.m. so they had plenty of time
for scavenges in their destinations -- but bear in mind that they all did so
using no advanced technology whatsoever because that would break the rules (umh,
hmm -- and I own a thousand acres of swampland in Cambodia I'd like to....).
I LOVED the
bus ride. And I never thought I'd type those words either. Having been poor
most of my life (only recently being catapulted into a position where I could
even consider a trip like this), I have traveled on many a Trailways bus. (You
may not know this but I have a claim to fame. I hold the record for identifying
the most suspects on "America 's
Most Wanted" just from my travels on Trailways.) My relationship with
Trailways is so strong that whenever we passed a Motel 6, the driver slows down
and the motel proprietor always waves back to me. (I think my photo actually
adorns several Motel 6 and Regal 8 lobby walls in the Deep
South -- it's right above the box where the keys to the television
sets for which you pay extra are located).
The people
on the Ho Chi Minh city to Phnom Penh bus were awesome. Kind, friendly.
No animosity toward us, even as Casey demonstrated just how
"American" he can be. I foolishly thought it would be nice to shop in
the Duty-Free Shop before the trip. I bought a large tin of Almond Roca, one of
my favorite candies. I thought this was a treat many of the Asians may not have
experienced. Casey bought a large bottle of Maker's Mark and a 12-pack of
Heineken which I think are treats that everyone not from a Mormon compound has
enjoyed. I passed out the candy when we exited from and returned to the bus
after leaving Vietnam , and
one minute later when we exited from and returned to the bus after entering Cambodia . (The
formalities of country exit and entry will apparently always be absurd.) The
bus riders loved my generosity (which really involved no sacrifice on my part
-- the tin was all of $15 (which, of course, is a small amount given that it is
just 300,000 Vietnamese dongs -- no pun intended). And the people in the back
of the bus were thrilled by Casey's more adult contribution to their ride. In
any event, by the time we got to the hotel, Casey was in another world and
several of our co-travelers of the scavenger hunt noticed that. My sincere
apologies to our compatriots. He usually only gets that way once a trip and
should be fine for the duration.
OK, we're
about to go on some scavenges in Phnom
Penh . I want to see the skulls. I want to see the
prison. I know I'll be depressed afterward ("The Killing Fields"
affected me for years), but I must see them. Additionally, we'll do the
mandatory food challenges (they involve a pate sandwich and foie gras -- YUM!
-- sorry, Sherry and company). Then, we'll do the "adult beverage"
challenge (of which Bill always has several -- a man after my own heart). Then,
the boat ride and, tomorrow morning, the sheepish look as I explain why we
(probably) did nothing in Siem Reap. (We may be the first duo voted off the
continent ever in this competition.)
So, back to
the title of this blog. Why could I never live here? First, the heat and
humidity. They're miserable. I weigh 2,000 pounds. I sweat just thinking about
opening a door to the outside. The heat has me after "Hello." I'm
ready to shower then. Second, the driving all over Asia
would not allow me to perpetuate my life beyond a few days. Y'all know I can't
drive. I have $500,000 in auto insurance precisely because I know that, fully
sober, I could kill an entire clan of people driving multiple vehicles (some in
different cities) at any time. (Haven't done so yet -- knock on wood!) The
people here -- China , Vietnam , Cambodia -- drive as though every
day could be their last. There are very few stop lights. And where they are
stop lights, the lights are ignored. The mopeds (which outnumber cars 30 to
one) drive wherever and whenever they want. The car drivers, who seem to think
running a moped off the road is a sporting event, likewise ignore driving
rules. I'm surprised there is anyone left alive in this land. We should call it
"The Killing Roads."
You're doing great!
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