I found my peace on a facebook page...

Our earth is an astounding place. At every new turn I'm greeted by incredible sights and incredible people, all unique, and yet still all with the same hopes and needs that the rest of us have.

But the more I learn, the more I know. And the more I wished there were some things I'd never learned.

I had a flying visit to Cambodia. In and out in a weekend. Living in KL has it's advantages.

I'm always amazed that I can get off a ninety minute flight and be a completely different world. (does that make me old? It sounds like old man talk...) KL is a sprawling metropolis, and Phnom Penh is a dusty poverty stricken city. With spider webs for power cables and a road system that resembles a drunken bar fight.

I'd done the dumb tourist thing... 

I hadn't looked into any of the past or present goings-on of the country, learned any of the language, or even written down the name of the hotel I was staying in. Traveling with a group had me relaxed.

There were a few things that stood out to me about the city. Poverty was on display for sure, but I saw stalls, marketplaces, and people buying and selling. The city would seem to be on the upward. It's a strange view, seeing a large television at the front of a shanty bar, next to a squatter camp, with a mansion towering in the background. Full circle, in one photo snap.

The traffic was so unorganised it was almost comical. Fortunately for everyone, the 'tuk tuks' aren't known for high speed prowess, so the average speeds are pretty low. God help them when they get proper highways.

I don't remember seeing any ambulances. I could probably put that down to luck.

On reflection, there was something else that stood out to me. I've been to a few asian countries now. I have a clear memory in each country of seeing old people.

Malaysia has tonnes of them. Old dudes, manning the market stalls, driving taxis. The head guard at a gated community. I remember old people in the Philipines. Not as many, but definitely there.

In the weekend I spent in Cambodia, in a city of 1.5 million, I only remember seeing one old person. It's only something I realised afterwards.

Looking at the CIA website, we find the average life expectancy of a Cambodian born today is 60 years for men, 65 for women. And we find the average age is just 23.

So. If you don't know the story, it's now time to read up on the rule of the Khmer Rouge. Particularly the years between 1975 and 1979.

What I'm referring to was genocide, on a scale Hitler would be proud of. About one third of the country died as a result of the ruling government's attempt to change society. They believed good communists came from simple peasants. So in summary, if you were rich, educated, or in any way outstanding you were killed. Or if you disobeyed any order. Foraging for food to supplement the meagre rations for example, was proof enough that you'd disregarded the ruler's wisdom in food allotment, and were therefore a traitor to your country and should be killed. They also focused on eliminating certain people groups, and we particularly set against the the younger generation, as the were seen as too educated and untrustworthy.

About two million of the people of Cambodia died. Either murdered, starved, or struck down by disease, as any western medicines were banned. And it all happened within the last thirty five years.

Count back the numbers. If you were between 15 and 35 then, you'd be between 50 and 70 now.

Scary, deeply depressing stuff.

Poverty still has the majority of the nation in it's grip.

A member of the group was a union rep, for want of a better term. He'd been in rural Cambodia for the last few weeks, negotiating a wage increase for construction workers. The backers were keen for a deal, and the wages were raised. Raised to $4.50US a week. That's up 50%. No holiday pay, sick pay, six days a week, $234 a year.

Honest work doesn't pay. Civil servants are on about $30 a month. Corruption is rife. And the child sex trade has reared it's ugly head again.

Girls being sold by their parents is commonplace. They are then kept as slaves until the 'debt' has been paid off. This debt generally increases as living expenses are added to the bill. And as the girl ages, her 'street value' decreases, and by the age of 20 she is left uneducated, abused, and diseased.

It happens to the boys, too.

It has been said that the horrors of the Khmer Rouge live on within the people, creating a moral vacuum, and a perpetuating cycle of abuse. This abuse is allowed to continue by tourists, locals, and corrupt police and government officials. Although I find it hard to use the word 'corrupt' when you're talking about people who earn in a month what I earned every week delivering newspapers when I was twelve.

Much of the prostitution has been pushed underground. It's not as blatant as it once was.

And it's not the image I left with.

Driving on a bus with the boys, we passed the scene of an accident. A young man, probably about my age, lay dead in the middle of the road.

Perhaps he fell from the back of a scooter. Perhaps he was trying to cross the road. There was no sign on the car that had hit him, only a few people, standing vigil in the centre of the road, awaiting the undertaker.

Poverty had claimed another victim. Few streetlights, no crossings. Overcrowded motorcycles and no road safety education. In a land where a human life is still very cheap.

I felt sick. But worse than that, I felt helpless. I was too late. There was nothing I could do.

How do you talk about these things? In what social settings is it appropriate to discuss infant mortality rate, mass murders, or the price the a twelve year old virgin goes for in Svay Park?

I don't want to internalise things. I don't want someone to tell me it's ok. Because it isn't.

I found rest in a post on a teenage girl's facebook page.

“At any given time we are given the power to say, 'this is not how the story will end'.”

My peace comes with a resolve: I will not forget what I have learned. I will not forget them.  

And I will not allow poverty to decide the direction of a nation.

We have the technology. We just have to decide how to use it.

Faith.

You gotta have faith.

Without faith, you're immobilised. Stuck.

Everyone has faith. Even the best atheists have faith.

The trouble is, only a few people seem to realise this.

Drive down a highway. Without faith in the other drivers, you'd have to pull over every time a car goes past. But you have faith in their abilities, and the engineers that designed your automobiles, and you drive on past without giving it a second thought.

Hop into an elevator. Climb into an aeroplane. Catch a train.

There is a gap growing between 'people of faith' and the modern secularised world.

The argument is that people of faith trust in something that they cannot see.

My argument is that everyone does that. All the time.

It's just that most people don't think about it.

So... who do you put your faith in?

A Personal Insight into World Politics

Sitting on a couch, reading Sherlock Holmes.

It's not a bad way to finish the day, particularly when it's hot, and the couch is beside a pool. Anyway.

I was interrupted by three guys, all about my age, who stopped for a chat. Which is good, I'm a chatty sort of person.  So we chatted.

It could've been a joke...

Two Persians and a Malaysian walk into a bar. The first Persian requests a soft drink, because he's studying later.

The second says absolutely nothing, and promptly fires up his sheesha.

And the Malaysian wanders over and punches 90's western pop songs into the juke box.

Interesting bunch. Each quite different. 

All are studying. One mechanical engineering, one IT, and one, from what I could gather, some sort of business-mixed-with-english studies.

One of the Iranian guys (learnt something that day: Persian=Iranian) that we'll call Mike for fun, gave me a new insight into world politics. In this case, it was perhaps better described as fate. 

He was explaining the problem with life in Iran.

Mike comes from a well off family. His father is a helicopter pilot, his brother and sisters all went to university and went on to get good jobs. His mother was able to stay at home and keep house.

They're clearly a hardworking, intelligent bunch. In any other country, that would be enough.

But Mike is uneasy about his current situation.

I was surprised about how many Iranian students I found studying in Malaysia. There are two reasons, from what I can gather. The first is financial. Malaysian Universities are pretty cheap by world standards.

And while no-one actually said it, I get the feeling that Malaysia's standing as a modern Islamic nation has a bit to do with it's popularity as well.

(don't follow? Can you imagine doing an Australian O-week as a non-drinking muslim?)

Mike loves it here. He's made friends, and his studies are going well. His english is excellent.

But he's worried that he'll have to go home early.

His family isn't running out of money. They're not poor. The problem they face is a simple one of currency and exchange rates. Ten years ago, the Iranian Rial was selling at 908 IRR per Australian dollar. Now, it's more like 12,000 to one. 

Their currency rates are on the borderline of being in freefall. None of the banks will exchange IRR for another currency, because no-one wants to be stuck holding the cash. It's a colossal game of hot potato.

This presents a major problem for Mike, because as an international student in Malaysia, he's not allowed to work. So he relies on funding from his family. And funding can't be sent if it can't be exchanged.

Time passed.

But I spoke to Mike again last week. He was back in Iran. Until the financial market changes, he's stuck there, with half a degree, in a country that may or may not be on America's future hit list.

Now any sort major conflict is a terrible idea. I would guess most people agree with me there.

But it's funny how news reports tend to desensitise you to the human side of international affairs.

It's funny how easy it is to think of a people, rather than a regime of being evil or dangerous. Even for a second.

But here was a regular guy, with regular dreams of career, family, wealth, you name it. With all of his prospects being dictated by the things you see at the end of the news.

I can come to grips with poverty affecting someones life. That makes sense.

But I'd never realised how something as inconsequential (in my eyes, at least) as nationality could interrupt someone's otherwise well laid out plans.

And now, it seems so obvious. I guess it's hard to understand until it hits you in the face.

First he's here, now he's not. Mike stuck in limbo, and no-one can tell him what his future holds.

In Regards to Driving

New term- 'Napoleoned'

(past tense, verb)

To have thrown one's GPS unit out the window with the recharge cord still attached, allowing it to bounce along the asphalt behind the vehicle, in order to prolong the unit's suffering, rather than bringing about it's immediate destruction.

Driving in Malaysia's kinda fun. If you like that sort of thing. Which I do, of course.

Most of the highways have three lanes of traffic during the non-rush hour times. Simple enough to negotiate, then, provided you have a GPS, which will frequently get you very lost. But far better to yell at an inanimate object than at your wife, with a map spread across her lap, and a confused look on her face, in the passenger seat. So with the GPS I persevere.

The left lane is occupied almost entirely by scooters. Smoky, slow, unpredictable things they are, and best avoided whenever possible. Scooter riders have a death wish, and no respect for the fact that all they wear is nylon jackets and open face helmets for their protection.

The right lane is mostly occupied by police escorts (of which you can hire if you wish to simplify this mess) and fast european cars. The Merc, Beemer, Lamborghini, Porsche crew (especially those big Cayeene 4WDs) and stupidly fast pimped-out Taragos, called Alphards. Which is, predictably, my new favourite car name in the whole wide world. (Say it to yourself a few times. Alphard... Alphard...)

You can surf the right hand lane, but you need to keep and eye in your rear view mirror, looking for the tiny black spec that oft approaches at 180kph.

Middle lane's the go, then, avoiding the worst of the bikes, europe's fearless finest, and stern looking police officers, on ridiculously oversized Hondas that point angrily at you as though you had some means of getting out of their way.

Don't bother looking for speed signs. That'll get you killed. Besides, speed cameras are few and far between, and it would seem that most of them are offline.

Just drive with the traffic flow, and let the tailgaters past. And should someone's driving offend you, don't worry, very soon you will have someone different to be offended by.

It's inevitable. Like death, or taxes. Or John Farnham comeback tours.

Rush hour changes things. What was three lanes becomes seven. An extra one for cars on the far left, and on the far right, and a lane between each of the other lanes, just big enough to fit a scooter through. Not really big enough to fit a Kancil(the Malaysian equivalent of a Daihatsu Curoe, or possibly a mini), but that won't stop anyone from trying. It's also just the right size for a fifty seater bus.

Two things consistently amaze me about rush hour traffic. The first is that the scooter riders seem to speed up. And don't seem to die. Which causes my logic driven mind to skip a beat.

The second thing causes my logic driven mind to blank out for a second or two, and loop over simple mathematical equations until things settle down again. Bikes are the quickest way through the mess. The second quickest way is on a bus.

They're faster than the ambulances. They give horn blasts for one and all, but no hoots are given for anyone. These bus drivers, the Schumacers of the Heavy Rigid scene, blast through traffic jams, barely altering their timetables. People actually drive behind them to speed up their transit.

I'm in awe. It's like Moses parting the red sea. With a bus. And air horns.

So. Watch out for the buses, because they'll flatten you.

Watch out for the scooters, because they seem to aim for you.

Otherwise, you can basically drive as you wish, without regard for signalling or road rules, but always keep in mind that everyone else on the road is driving in exactly that fashion as well.

And above all, watch out for people with their indicator on.

At no stage should you assume that they're signalling direction. More likely, they're staring hard at not the road, but their dashboard, and trying to figure out where that annoying clicking sound is coming from.

Motorcycles, Competitiveness, and Stupidity

Living in Geelong has few non-football related advantages, but one such advantage is living close to the Great Ocean Road, also known as The Home of Speeding and Bad Ideas.

I’m pretty familiar with the road as I’ve been driving it, flat out, since I got my car licence (apparently ‘P’ doesn’t stand for ‘inteligence’) and so with a world of confidence behind me, I set out with my friend Steve (us both L platers) for a nice ride all the way from Geelong to Apollo Bay.

The road starts to get interesting after you pass through Anglesea. From here to Lorne, the road is in excellent, with good shoulders, signs, and absent minded tourists who walk backwards onto the road as the take photos of koalas. Which reminds me- it also has koalas.

Yep, good wide corners, with perfect hotmix almost all the way to Lorne. But after Lorne, it gets a bit sketchy.

I think Ben Carson said “‘peers’ stands for People Encouraging Rudeness and Stupidity” (so I can’t remember the second ‘E’) so with this in mind, and with a good injection of the healthy competitiveness that we both suffer from/revel in, Steve opened up his low kay, unscratched GPX250 and was having a half decent crack through the bends with me in tow on my GS500.

Now Steve is fairly adept at most things, he’s one of those annoying people who seem to be very good at most things he lays his hand to without actually trying. So when I got into roadies with a bit more aptitude than him… I MIGHT have taken it upon myself to challenge him a bit.

So after a few kays I overtook Steve and turned up the wick a bit. Zipping along, I braked a bit late, panicked, froze up and ran REAL wide on a right hand turn. Fortunately, I had knocked most of my speed off, and both my feet hit the gravel, but I kept the bike upright, and didn’t hit the guard rail. Success… I waved back to Steve, tapped my helmet (as if to somehow signify my stupidity was unpunished) and went right back to our best Valentino impressions.

I said the road gets a bit sketchy.. Sink holes, sharp edged potholes, and some really narrow bits with no runoff and a lovely soft guardrail to slow you up a bit. Great stuff to put the focus on your skills, and natural intelligence or lack thereof.

Approaching a turn, I saw big soft pothole square in the middle of the road right at the last second. I shot straight over it, slightly unsettled, but tipped in, no probs, and got back on the gas out of the corner. The thought had occurred to me that lighter Steve on his lighter bike might be more upset by the crater, and when I glance back in my mirror coming out of the next couple of turns, there was a conspicuous absence of one black GPX…

After the most panic wrought U-turn (on a nice blind turn) and the worst feeling short squirt of my life, I found Steve, upright, although scratched a touch, and in pretty good form. He’d seen the pothole too, and grabbed the brakes instead. He froze up, ran wide, found the gravel edge, low-sided his way across a road marker and come to a stop in the gravel parking area.

Just a scrape or two, he’d slowed down a heap before he took a tumble, but, like me, he reacted in panic rather than tipping in and turning the corner like he should have. Fortunately it was one of better spots to crash, so to speak, and he didn’t shoot off into Bass Strait.

We continued on to Apollo Bay, albeit a bit slower, and I thought about a few things.

For starters, my reactions are wrong. Freezing up, grabbing brakes, and dropping your feet down aren’t half as good as leaning in, gassing a bit, maybe a touch of rear brake to tighten up your line a bit.

Also that confidence is everything. The ride immediately after the tumble had more mistakes in it from both of us than any other time during the day. But when we started to attack the corners properly again, we were safer, more consistent riders, had better lines, all that.

The other thing was more about self examination, and the idiocy of baiting your learner friend to keep up with you. I wouldn’t have done it to most other people, but with a bit of pride involved, thought process takes a bit of a beating.

Anyway. It was a perfect day. Great weather, two near misses, and a nice long scoot on return to get your confidence back.

One other thing. The coastal road to Apollo Bay is good. Nice turns, great scenery, all that.
But the inland road from Apollo Bay to Forrest is freaking awesome.

Josh out.