That's 42 C down to 11 C for the rest of the world, the difference in temperature from flying from Phnom Penh, Cambodia to Taipei, Taiwan where we spent the last few days of our trip. I thought I had some drafts saved, but they must be on the Taiwanese server, so I can't post them. While we're safely back in Seattle (malaria pills and antibiotics aside), I'll take the next little bit to catch the blog up as well as begin uploading pictures from the trip, and still pretend that we're on the road.
I've gotten Southeast Asia out of my system in a rather brutal "Been There Done That" finale. Phnom Penh's cemetaries were full of elaborate stupas. Everyone from our driver (lone survivor of a family of 13) lost everyone one in their family or paid for it with a limb and an eye. Unlike Siem Reap where everyone is a foreigner, Phnom Penh's an odd mix of very young and the almost moved in. Our hotel was on the walled side of town. Much like Florence, Italy, you drove around between tall stucco or stone walls topped by concertina wire. Then the neighborhood opened up to the road running along the Mekong. That area came alive at night, made me think Phnom Penh might have a soft belly.
Our first night in Phnom Penh was a power outage. We stepped out the door of our hotel garden onto a dark street. A strange tuk-tuk driver approached and we said "no" we didn't want to go with him. We'd received directions to a "good restaurant" down at the end of the next block. We looked up & down the dark road, turned left & started walking through the pitch. Our eyes adjusted before the block which was our hotel wall ended. The street there is actually closed off and guarded. The next block was just as dark and as we were walking along we realized we couldn't see any lights ahead. At the end of the 2nd block was a guy with a gas air compressor filling tires. Traffic was flowing like raindrops, charcoal braziers were still cooking satays of pork or chicken. All the storefronts were dark, but the wide doors were open and people were moving in and out and about.
We hadn't realized there was a power outage until we passed beyond the hotel's thick wall and down a block. A dark road didn't seem too odd, the 2nd dark road ended at what was obviously a functional retail road. That being dark clued the dumb tourists in.
Now, seeing as how Davie & I get lost in cities like Hanoi & Milan when we're carrying maps & the streets are lit, I opted to turn our fat (well, only my butt would classify) butts around and head back to the hotel tuk-tuks. We got there & I popped out the first restaurant I remember reading about in PP - the Foreign Correspondent's Club.
What I know about the FCC in Phnom Penh is this - it had electricity. No one else around had it, but they did. This appears to be a chain a la Planet Hollywood, except twisted to relate to the brutal expereiences of SEA. It's not autographed pictures of stars in their roles which great you as you climb the stairs to their veranda, but pictures of fox holes, bleeding children, and missing photojournalists. We hung out on the 3rd floor veranda watching the street activity.
Now Dave's ultimate goal in Phnom Penh was to eat at "the cow BBQ place". We'd read about it on line @ Chowhound, I believe. There was no English sign, just a crossroads, 19th St & 148th. It sounded like "just down the road" from us. This night with the power outage, after the 7 hour drive from Siem Reap with the driver who kept falling asleep at the wheel, I wasn't up for such an adventure. So, we had a cardboard pizza & cardboard quesedilla at the FCC club, which I finished off with some expensive Mojitos. The best I can say about the FCC club is that it had power on a night when I was too tired to try the street food.
After we fed ourselves, we were early to meet our tuk-tuk driver. We'd agreed upon 8pm, so we still had 15-20 minutes to walk the park along the Mekong river. The government in Cambodia might have corrupt officials, or police. We saw the latter, but we also so a lot of public works taking place. There was actual construction occurring. In Phnom Penh, they were completely redoing the waterfront walk and it's going to be gorgeous.
As I said earlier about Siem Reap (or maybe I didn't, but I meant to), the women's toilets are clean, spacious and have a seat. They beat the Vatican's bathrooms on 5 out of 7 points. The Vatican toilets had a door, and if I remember correctly, they could be held closed. The 7 point Andrea Scale of Toilet Grading is:
1) availaiblity of toilet paper
2) having a toilet seat which can be sat upon
3) having a clean toilet seat
4) having a door which can close
5) having a door which can be locked, or at least hold themselves closed without having to be the physical means of holding the door closed.
6) having a dry floor so one does not have to worry about bunching one's pants or skirt up to avoid getting the hem in the bathroom floor muck
7) having a stall wide enough so that legs can be spread for the necessary wiping of the nether-regions
I would also add as "niceties"
8) the availability of a flush handle or button (as opposed to a bucket with a scoop) used to flush said products down the chute
9) In the case of trench based toilet areas, I do prefer having the little bricks upon which one places one's feet to lift keep them out of the muck and to avoid over-balancing the squat.
But anyways, the advances made on these toilets are a sign to me of the Cambodian government's efforts to funnel money back into their country, not just line their pockets. I also heard that schooling has gotten cheaper now, that people only have to help pay for the teacher when they send their children to school, not just pay for both the school and the teacher.
So, not all is corrupt in Cambodia. In fact, I saw much that was positive, much that indicated that the government was working both by itself and with the NGOs at least in those areas where the tourists were. And tourism is going to be one of the cash cows for this country. And here's one of its biggest assets, the Cambodians are investing in their cultural heritage, in their arts. Many of their artisans were killed or exiled, however, one program seems to have successfully taken root in Cambodia - Artisans of Angkor. Sponsored by the European Union, they began training people over a year's period of time in traditional Khmer arts, such as stone work, silk weaving & painting, carving, an basketry. Once a person is trained, they're sent back to their village to teach & share. This is the source of so much wonderful souvenir work throughout the country- from roadside stands, to children hawking their goods at the temple sites. This country is brimming with artwork.
Like Vietnam, labor might be cheap, but the craftsmanship is high. They also don't appear to be reproducing as much Western art, but their own. Good stuff and a decorator's dream.
Anyways, back to Phnom Penh and our first night. We walked through the park area (I did walk on the grass, but David begged forgiveness from the Park Cop who was whistling at me to get off) to watch a group of Cambodian young people practice a line dance to some pop music. Then we walked back along the Mekong night, sat on the balustrade overlooking the river and let some little girls try to sell us some post cards, or something. I tried to tell the little girl, that I'd give her a star for a smile. Her baby sister nodded & liked that. One Cambodian girl sitting to the right of me gave me a kiss on the cheek as we got up to walk to our tuk-tuk driver who met us exactly on time.
Then all the lights in the city came up. Honestly, there wasn't much difference as the Cambodian night was so rich in its darkness.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Road Number 6
I think it's Monday, March 8th and I have too many days in my itinerary. Did February have 27 days or 28? We're in Phnom Penh having left Siem Reap on National Road #6 yesterday morning. The five hour drive took seven. Our car's dashboard was decorated with gold Buddhas and red lotus flowers, along with a dragon dangling from the rear view mirror, for luck. We needed them all as our driver kept falling asleep at the wheel or passing the slow moving vehicles on a curve with oncoming traffic. Either Dave or I stayed awake, watching his eyes. His swaying across the road wasn't an indicator of sleepiness because not only were there no lines, and driving on the right hand side of the road optional, but driving without weaving would have flattened the cow carts travelling on the road with us.
There were only two stops along the way the driver was willing to stop at, one without tarantulas and one with. Eating the tarantuala has become de rigeur for tourists and so they're carving an 8 foot wide statue in front of the stop. Here you can pick up your mess o'fried crickets to accompany the garlic fried spider. The hawker kids were quite impressed with me handling a live spider. I let it crawl up my hand, then picked it up & held it with the other. One of the little girls kept one at the throat of her shirt like a broach. Slow moving and gentle, they've had their fangs removed. One little boy (with a spectacular frost job of chunky gold highlights) had a fang. It was about the length & curve of a thumbnail.
I've never been surrounded by so many begging & hawking children (hawking = selling). While I find the whine irritating, when they begin to laugh & joke with me it becomes very difficult for me not to reward them with a purchase. School here is free, but apparently you must pay to supplement the teacher's salary. There's only one free hospital in Cambodia & that's in Siem Reap for the children. The road outside its entrance and the park across from it were packed with people waiting to get in. The children will tell you they need the money for school, that they attend school (during school hours, no less), "Buy my bananas", "Buy my mangoes", "buy" "buy" "buy". The litany is relentless and I wish I knew what the "thing to do" was. For the most part, I begin with my jokes and stories. I've amused some, disappointed many and ended up with a free woven fish for luck, & a kiss on the cheek .
Siem Reap is construction mad & needs to be. If the temples were not so massive and if there weren't so many of them, the crowds during this off season would have been confounding. Old town Siem Reap is more provincal than Khao San Road of Bangkok, but still has the world there. It's an amazing corner to people watch. Phnom Penh is a city of security walls and concertina wire. We hired a tuk-tuk driver today to drive us around. There are some older parts which seem to be the same as any other Southeast Asian city we've been in. We went to the Russian market today. Totally enclosed, without any lighting, the ceilings low, the footpaths narrow it was probably the most claustrophobic of the markets we've been in. When we stepped out, the late morning air felt cool and fresh.
I think we leave tomorrow morning for Taipei. I think today is Monday, March 8th. If that is so, I only have one day in PP, not 2 full days. I'm actually grateful for that. Neither Dave nor I have any interest in going to see the "Killing Fields" or the genocide museum or the memorial for the dead. The person who drove us to Phnom Penh was the only survivor from a family of 13. I grew up on these stories, on this tragedy. I've come to Cambodia to watch it live.
There were only two stops along the way the driver was willing to stop at, one without tarantulas and one with. Eating the tarantuala has become de rigeur for tourists and so they're carving an 8 foot wide statue in front of the stop. Here you can pick up your mess o'fried crickets to accompany the garlic fried spider. The hawker kids were quite impressed with me handling a live spider. I let it crawl up my hand, then picked it up & held it with the other. One of the little girls kept one at the throat of her shirt like a broach. Slow moving and gentle, they've had their fangs removed. One little boy (with a spectacular frost job of chunky gold highlights) had a fang. It was about the length & curve of a thumbnail.
I've never been surrounded by so many begging & hawking children (hawking = selling). While I find the whine irritating, when they begin to laugh & joke with me it becomes very difficult for me not to reward them with a purchase. School here is free, but apparently you must pay to supplement the teacher's salary. There's only one free hospital in Cambodia & that's in Siem Reap for the children. The road outside its entrance and the park across from it were packed with people waiting to get in. The children will tell you they need the money for school, that they attend school (during school hours, no less), "Buy my bananas", "Buy my mangoes", "buy" "buy" "buy". The litany is relentless and I wish I knew what the "thing to do" was. For the most part, I begin with my jokes and stories. I've amused some, disappointed many and ended up with a free woven fish for luck, & a kiss on the cheek .
Siem Reap is construction mad & needs to be. If the temples were not so massive and if there weren't so many of them, the crowds during this off season would have been confounding. Old town Siem Reap is more provincal than Khao San Road of Bangkok, but still has the world there. It's an amazing corner to people watch. Phnom Penh is a city of security walls and concertina wire. We hired a tuk-tuk driver today to drive us around. There are some older parts which seem to be the same as any other Southeast Asian city we've been in. We went to the Russian market today. Totally enclosed, without any lighting, the ceilings low, the footpaths narrow it was probably the most claustrophobic of the markets we've been in. When we stepped out, the late morning air felt cool and fresh.
I think we leave tomorrow morning for Taipei. I think today is Monday, March 8th. If that is so, I only have one day in PP, not 2 full days. I'm actually grateful for that. Neither Dave nor I have any interest in going to see the "Killing Fields" or the genocide museum or the memorial for the dead. The person who drove us to Phnom Penh was the only survivor from a family of 13. I grew up on these stories, on this tragedy. I've come to Cambodia to watch it live.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
p.s.
No, neither Dave nor I have hemorrhagic fever, or have been exposed to hemorrhagic fever that I know of. It just happened to be on a small billboard alongside one of the roads in Siem Reap. Glad to know that. So far the worst medical incidents we've had are that Dave got his toe cut by the pedicurist in Siem Reap and Pepto hasn't helped me out as much has it has in the past. At least the potties in the Angkor Wat park are clean, have lots of paper and a seat.
Hemorrhagic fever in Cambodia? Oy
Sooooo last night was our first night in Cambodia. We crossed the border between Thailand and Cambodia in Poipet. That was a trip into a Martin Scorsese film, complete with crumbling tile floors, rotating fans, and peasants pushing carts filled with garbage through the no-man's land of casinos. Very dusty. Disturbing in its use of recycled materials to maintain a roof over the head or food in the belly. We were the only travelers with luggage, the rest had backpacks. There we were, two middle-aged people pushing our Samsonites across the broken asphalt. There were no "Welcome to" signs, we were just glad to make it through the inspection we received by both the Thai and the Cambodian officials.
Ahead of us was a golden family from Sweden: Mom, Pop, 8 year old daughter, 11 year old son. In front of them was a dark haired young woman reading a book while standing in line. She was traveling with two men. We've since seen her here in Siem Reap. Behind us were two Australian women traveling with one man. The poor guy was caught in the middle of the two women bickering about something. It made Dave & I look like angels.
The ride from Bangkok to the Thai border was comfortable, in a clean car with good a/c. The driver only had to pay off the cops once. The Thai police were just waving people over. The driver handed him his paperwork & money beneath it. We were waved on past. Then we got to the town outside of the Thai border. The driver pulled over to the side of a bank. We were waiting for the person who was to walk us through the border. Yes, we were going to pull out our three bags (we started with two, but then I went shopping...), walk to ... where? Who thought this would be a good idea?
Finally, the person who was to walk us through the border showed up, talking on his cell phone. Our driver had him sign for us and our baggage. At least someone had proof we were passing through. Then we started walking through the market area. We got in the line for "foreigners". The guy walking us through was able to walk straight through - with one of our bags - because he does this for a living I guess. So, we'd just let a stranger walk off with one of our bags. Uh, maybe not such a good idea, but waaaaaaaa(aaaaayyyyyyyy)yyyyy tooo late to do anything about it. So, we took stock in our surroundings.
Outside the area where we were the cargo passing through the border was going through inspection. And yes, they did open boxes and check things out. We passed through the Thai customs with more facial recognition software scanning us for who we were (I must look the same even with corn rows in my hair) then we began the walk through the no-man's land. All the Thais headed to the casinos. The Cambodians pushing the carts filled with plastic bottles, or plastic bags, or plastic drums, the foreigners, & Dave & I kept walking. Our "guide" set a good pace for someone pushing a Samsonite stuffed with stuff after I've been shopping.
We walked into a shed building, he thrust some paperwork into our hands & told us to fill it out & stand in line. Passing through customs is always one person at the official's window, the other person left behind. Dave & I got lucky & b/c there were two lines we each got in one & they moved about the same pace. The Cambodian police were making sure that no one left the building without their paperwork. One of the Australian women had stepped outside for a ciggie when he started poking her for her paperwork. She kept saying, "I haven't got it yet. I haven't got it." When that finally got communicated he did let her be so she could finish the ciggie at the shed door, but Dave didn't step out to have nic hit.
We both were processed into Cambodia when our "guide" got us onto the Cambodian taxi service's bus. The bus took us to the taxi terminal. The "taxi", well, it did have air conditioning, the same way my breath provides a breeze. Dave also got in on the side where the sun beat down on him like a baseball bat. He was cranky oh, in about three minutes. Plus, we'd left our water locked in his suitcase and that was NOT the suitcase up front with the driver.
The ride to Siem Reap showed us the Cambodian countryside. Flat. Dusty. They were burning the fields. I think there were three trees left. The road was quite nice, but like Vietnam, the Cambodian's don't seem to believe in driving between the lines. They're freer thinkers than that. Our driver liked to slow down while going around a curve even though he was passing someone on the right so he was driving in the left lane. No, this wasn't Thailand where driving in the left lane was the lane to drive forward in. This is Cambodia. American style. Heck, everything trades in the U.S. dollar here in Siem Reap. You drive in the right lane. When you feel like it. Unless you want to honk your horn as you pass a cow and drive in the left in the face of on-coming traffic. I don't think the solid yellow line has the same sort of meaning to the Cambodian psyche as it does to the American.
The driver finally stopped at one of the thatch & tin sheds along the roadside. A twelve year old girl was going to sell us a bottle of water at 20 baht each until Dave showed her he only had a twenty. She let us take two & let him use the bathroom. She liked my corn-rows very much and wanted to know where I got them and how much they cost. She was very impressed with the 300 Baht price tag ($10). She liked my white skin. She thought David was nice. Her brother tied some pretty knotwork around my wrist. I didn't want to pay for it. Dave came rushing out of the toilet, he said, b/c he heard me saying, "No. No. No money. No thank you." The kids just wanted to talk to us for ten minutes. Okay.
Talking to foreigners is their language lesson. "I don't write so good." might be a common response, but they can speak a heck of a lot better English than I can Cambodian.
More later
Ahead of us was a golden family from Sweden: Mom, Pop, 8 year old daughter, 11 year old son. In front of them was a dark haired young woman reading a book while standing in line. She was traveling with two men. We've since seen her here in Siem Reap. Behind us were two Australian women traveling with one man. The poor guy was caught in the middle of the two women bickering about something. It made Dave & I look like angels.
The ride from Bangkok to the Thai border was comfortable, in a clean car with good a/c. The driver only had to pay off the cops once. The Thai police were just waving people over. The driver handed him his paperwork & money beneath it. We were waved on past. Then we got to the town outside of the Thai border. The driver pulled over to the side of a bank. We were waiting for the person who was to walk us through the border. Yes, we were going to pull out our three bags (we started with two, but then I went shopping...), walk to ... where? Who thought this would be a good idea?
Finally, the person who was to walk us through the border showed up, talking on his cell phone. Our driver had him sign for us and our baggage. At least someone had proof we were passing through. Then we started walking through the market area. We got in the line for "foreigners". The guy walking us through was able to walk straight through - with one of our bags - because he does this for a living I guess. So, we'd just let a stranger walk off with one of our bags. Uh, maybe not such a good idea, but waaaaaaaa(aaaaayyyyyyyy)yyyyy tooo late to do anything about it. So, we took stock in our surroundings.
Outside the area where we were the cargo passing through the border was going through inspection. And yes, they did open boxes and check things out. We passed through the Thai customs with more facial recognition software scanning us for who we were (I must look the same even with corn rows in my hair) then we began the walk through the no-man's land. All the Thais headed to the casinos. The Cambodians pushing the carts filled with plastic bottles, or plastic bags, or plastic drums, the foreigners, & Dave & I kept walking. Our "guide" set a good pace for someone pushing a Samsonite stuffed with stuff after I've been shopping.
We walked into a shed building, he thrust some paperwork into our hands & told us to fill it out & stand in line. Passing through customs is always one person at the official's window, the other person left behind. Dave & I got lucky & b/c there were two lines we each got in one & they moved about the same pace. The Cambodian police were making sure that no one left the building without their paperwork. One of the Australian women had stepped outside for a ciggie when he started poking her for her paperwork. She kept saying, "I haven't got it yet. I haven't got it." When that finally got communicated he did let her be so she could finish the ciggie at the shed door, but Dave didn't step out to have nic hit.
We both were processed into Cambodia when our "guide" got us onto the Cambodian taxi service's bus. The bus took us to the taxi terminal. The "taxi", well, it did have air conditioning, the same way my breath provides a breeze. Dave also got in on the side where the sun beat down on him like a baseball bat. He was cranky oh, in about three minutes. Plus, we'd left our water locked in his suitcase and that was NOT the suitcase up front with the driver.
The ride to Siem Reap showed us the Cambodian countryside. Flat. Dusty. They were burning the fields. I think there were three trees left. The road was quite nice, but like Vietnam, the Cambodian's don't seem to believe in driving between the lines. They're freer thinkers than that. Our driver liked to slow down while going around a curve even though he was passing someone on the right so he was driving in the left lane. No, this wasn't Thailand where driving in the left lane was the lane to drive forward in. This is Cambodia. American style. Heck, everything trades in the U.S. dollar here in Siem Reap. You drive in the right lane. When you feel like it. Unless you want to honk your horn as you pass a cow and drive in the left in the face of on-coming traffic. I don't think the solid yellow line has the same sort of meaning to the Cambodian psyche as it does to the American.
The driver finally stopped at one of the thatch & tin sheds along the roadside. A twelve year old girl was going to sell us a bottle of water at 20 baht each until Dave showed her he only had a twenty. She let us take two & let him use the bathroom. She liked my corn-rows very much and wanted to know where I got them and how much they cost. She was very impressed with the 300 Baht price tag ($10). She liked my white skin. She thought David was nice. Her brother tied some pretty knotwork around my wrist. I didn't want to pay for it. Dave came rushing out of the toilet, he said, b/c he heard me saying, "No. No. No money. No thank you." The kids just wanted to talk to us for ten minutes. Okay.
Talking to foreigners is their language lesson. "I don't write so good." might be a common response, but they can speak a heck of a lot better English than I can Cambodian.
More later
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
I didn't get dread locks
Look Ma! I got corn-rows! But I loved the blue dreads, it is just too hot to have all that stuff added to my head.
We didn't make it to Jok's Kitchen. We got dropped off by the cab on the other side of the Chao Phraya river near a university and a street like "Issanrup" but with a letter "t" in it.
Car's here to pick us up for the drive to the Cambodian border. We cross at Poipet. More about Khao San road later.
We didn't make it to Jok's Kitchen. We got dropped off by the cab on the other side of the Chao Phraya river near a university and a street like "Issanrup" but with a letter "t" in it.
Car's here to pick us up for the drive to the Cambodian border. We cross at Poipet. More about Khao San road later.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Maybe not such a good idea
Hopping on a tuk tuk wearing a dress.
okay okay
Crawling onto a tuk tuk at 10 o'clock at night in a Bangkok god-knows-where street wearing a dress & not getting off before it hits the open roadway.
Whoopsie daisy
This is a vehicle where you have to crawl across the small floor to get to the far end of the seating pad so your partner can step up to the platform. Doing this while wearing a dress with a broad skirt took an athleticism I wasn't aware I possessed. Okay, I know I can crawl, but I prefer to keep my crawling to pubs. It's 10 o'clock at night. We just got off the dinner cruise run by the Marriot and decided to get off at the Taksin public pier instead of taking the boat all the way back to the resort ghetto. We walk out onto the street & don't see a single vehicle. It's like Bangkok's been abandoned. However, the MRT station was right there. It was simple enough for us to naviagate. The problem was, the MRT doesn't go out to Khao San Road - the area where our hotel is.
So, we hop on & pay to remain in Zone 4. This is my closest guess as to proximity with Khao San Road. We get off at a station which ends at the Asia Hotel. The hotel has a monopoly on taxis, so when we don't want to pay 400 Thai Bhat (when we only paid 200 to get to the Marriot in the first place & that's still clear across town), we walk out the door naively assuming we'll be able to find transportation.
Again we were wrong. Or well, maybe not wrong, b/c a tuk-tuk is a form of transportation. It's a covered platform atop a motorcycle engine used by young people and people who can still squat. We find a driver who's willing to take us to our hotel for the agreed upon 100 TB and crawl on for the ride of our life.
Good thing the roof curves down so low it cuts off your view of anything except your neighbor's tires. I was able to focus on fighting my rising skirts instead of the near death experiences I'm sure would have converted me to something religious.
okay okay
Crawling onto a tuk tuk at 10 o'clock at night in a Bangkok god-knows-where street wearing a dress & not getting off before it hits the open roadway.
Whoopsie daisy
This is a vehicle where you have to crawl across the small floor to get to the far end of the seating pad so your partner can step up to the platform. Doing this while wearing a dress with a broad skirt took an athleticism I wasn't aware I possessed. Okay, I know I can crawl, but I prefer to keep my crawling to pubs. It's 10 o'clock at night. We just got off the dinner cruise run by the Marriot and decided to get off at the Taksin public pier instead of taking the boat all the way back to the resort ghetto. We walk out onto the street & don't see a single vehicle. It's like Bangkok's been abandoned. However, the MRT station was right there. It was simple enough for us to naviagate. The problem was, the MRT doesn't go out to Khao San Road - the area where our hotel is.
So, we hop on & pay to remain in Zone 4. This is my closest guess as to proximity with Khao San Road. We get off at a station which ends at the Asia Hotel. The hotel has a monopoly on taxis, so when we don't want to pay 400 Thai Bhat (when we only paid 200 to get to the Marriot in the first place & that's still clear across town), we walk out the door naively assuming we'll be able to find transportation.
Again we were wrong. Or well, maybe not wrong, b/c a tuk-tuk is a form of transportation. It's a covered platform atop a motorcycle engine used by young people and people who can still squat. We find a driver who's willing to take us to our hotel for the agreed upon 100 TB and crawl on for the ride of our life.
Good thing the roof curves down so low it cuts off your view of anything except your neighbor's tires. I was able to focus on fighting my rising skirts instead of the near death experiences I'm sure would have converted me to something religious.
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