And Now: The moment you have all been waiting for...

Please take a few minutes to watch this preview of our documentary that exposes child sex trafficking in Cambodia. The actual documentary itself is 17 minutes long. Below is just a demo of what we've spent the last three months working on:

Preview of Documentary Coming Soon....

...In the meantime, please enjoy this 2 minute video I assembled for my Video Editing class:

heart-shaped balloon

A child held onto a heart-shaped balloon
He found her amusing for an hour or two

He pulled on her string and pushed her around
And with each hit, she would try to rebound

And when he grew tired, he let go of the string
Off the heart sailed, fearing what the future would bring

She flew higher, higher, and even higher still
Alone she ascended, above the grassy hills

The heart was uncertain what her fate might be
Hurt and betrayal were all she could see

And just when she thought that the end would surely come
She looked and saw a rainbow, a bright and colorful one

But as the colors drew close it became very clear
There wasn't a rainbow at all up here -

But instead of a rainbow there was something more profound
There were millions of balloons just floating around!

The heart-shaped balloon took her place in the pack
And forever thereafter, she never looked back.

Day Ten: Lost in Thailand

4 a.m. - Someone's alarm goes off, abruptly waking me from a deep sleep. Suddenly, I'm wide awake. It's a good thing too, because I need all the time I can get to get ready, since I was too exhausted last night to shower like I planned to do.

We finish packing everything up and we're out of the teamhouse by 5:25. I just hope I didn't forget anything.

Sokla, who has been our tuk-tuk driver this whole time here in Cambodia, is faithfully waiting for us outside, right on time as usual. We pile all of our luggage on two tuk-tuks, and wave goodbye to Lucky and Long, who live at the teamhouse and who have been really hospitable and helpful during our stay.

We arrive at the bus station a short ten minutes later. It is a bittersweet departure - we would love to stay, and spend a whole day with the orphans. But our trip is coming to a close, and we need to meet up with our other group in Bangkok.

Allegedly, the bus ride from Phnom Penh to Bangkok is 12 hours. Yeah, we'll see if that really happens.

People use their horns for different reasons here. In the. U.S., we honk to show our anger at someone for cutting us off in traffic, or to let someone who is about to run into you know that you are there. Here, the horn is used a lot more. It isn't uncommon to hear a car horn every ten seconds or so, in Cambodia. They don't do it out of anger, for the most part. Since the vast majority of intersections have no stop signs or stop lights, when a vehicle is about to enter an intersection, they honk. They also honk when they want to let the person in front of them know that they want to pass them. The rule of the road here basically is the bigger the vehicle, the more people will move out of the way to let them cross the intersection or pass them.

The drive to Bangkok consists of an eight hour bus ride to Poi Pet where we have to get off to walk across the Cambodia / Thailand border. We are supposed to be taking another bus from Poi Pet to Bangkok after we cross the border. As soon as we get off the bus in Poi Pet, a man takes our bus tickets away from us and gives each of us a blue sticker, which we put on our shirts. This makes me a little nervous. I could just picture it: we cross the border into Thailand and attempt to board a bus without our tickets.

"You need a ticket to board," the bus driver would say. "You fell for the blue sticker trick, didn't you?"

It takes us over two hours to cross the border, after waiting in all the lines and showing the officials our passports. It is 4:30. I've been "holding it" for several hours now. I need to find a bathroom immediately. All the blue sticker people congregate together until we are led by some man in a uniform to the bus stop. I ask him if I have time to use the bathroom. He nods and points to where it is. Without paying much attention to my surroundings, I dash to the building he'd pointed to. It costs three baht to use this bathroom.

Now, I've seen some pretty disgusting bathrooms during my stay in Asia. But this one was hands down the grossest, dirtiest, smelliest, most disgusting bathroom I've ever used. When I first enter the bathroom, all eight stalls are occupied. So I wait. I am first in line. Out of nowhere though, this Thai lady and her teenage daughter cut right in front of me in line. I wait till she catches my eye and I give her a look.

"I," I begin, pointing at myself, "was here," I gesture around the room, "FIRST." I hold up my first finger, signifying the number one. Even if she doesn't understand English, my harsh and direct tone lets her know not to mess with me. She nods and gets behind me in line. Her daughter stays in front of me though. Yeah, we'll see about that.

A stall opens up. I push past the girl who'd cut in front of me, preparing to fight her if necessary. I probably outweigh her by about forty pounds. She doesn't try to protest.

If there's one thing I've learned in my somewhat recent past, it's to never let people walk all over you. If you let it happen once, it opens up the opportunity for everyone else to do the same. You have to stand up for yourself or people will take advantage of you for the rest of your life.

So, I enter the stall and latch the door. The floor is flooded with a combination of urine and water. The toilet itself is only about five inches high, and it doesn't flush. There is also no toilet paper. There is only a little faucet to my right that I can use clean myself off (ewwww). I am thoroughly disgusted by this point. Oh, here is the best part. I exit the stall, and go over to the sink to wash my hands. There is no hot water. And there is also no soap. Where is some hand sanitizer when you need it??!?

I exit the bathroom and begin to walk briskly in the direction that I think I'm supposed to go. I don't recognize any of this. There are little shops all around me, cars, carts, and trucks whizzing past me, and people everywhere. I walk for several blocks, getting more and more panicked as I go. I don't remember having to walk this far from the bus stop to get to the bathroom. I turn around. Still, nothing looks familiar. I consider turning down one of the smaller streets, but then think the better of it. I know the bus station is on this street. I try to think clearly, but all I can think of is the fact that I am lost in a foreign country, with no knowledge of the language or how to get home. Maybe I should go back to the building where I used the bathroom? My group will be looking for me there, eventually. But I am too proud - I have to find the way on my own.

It's hard to think rationally when you're lost. I began plotting out worst-case scenario strategies. If I can't find my group, or if the bus leaves without me, I will find someone who speaks English who can direct me to a bus that will take me to Bangkok, where I will somehow catch my flight on Tuesday on my own. My luggage isn't with me. I only have 20 U.S. dollars on me. At least I have my passport. As I'm walking back the direction from which I came, I notice a median in the road with a small building and some people. There is also a bus near it. This looks vaguely familiar. My eyes scan for something or someone that I recognize. Suddenly, I see Landon and Abraham - I have found my way back! My hands are shaking, and my heart is beating wildly. I'm filled with relief.

The same man who'd pointed to the bathroom tells us it's time to board our next bus. Only it isn't a bus at all. It is a 15 seater van. If it weren't for all of our luggage, the twelve of us passengers would fit more than comfortably. However, we are squeezed in together tightly, with bags on our laps, by our feet, and on either side of us.

Only a few minutes into the ride, the man in front of my seat decides that everyone in the vehicle wants to listen to his music.

Oh you want to play that game, huh?

I whip out my phone and turn on good ole' LMFAO - Party Rock Anthem. I make sure the volume is as high as it can go. I need to send a message to the man in front of me that not everyone wants to listen to his stupid pop music (not that all pop music is stupid; but this particular song was).

The song ends and we all get quiet to see if he's turned off his music yet. He still hasn't. I don't want to piss off everyone in the van more than they probably already are, so I refrain from playing another song. But Mike has a better idea. He turns on Boston's "More Than a Feeling", and plays it all the way through. When it's finished, he says, "Your turn, up front!" gesturing to the man, but the man by this point has more or less gotten the hint. Rather than playing music, he watches a quiet movie for the rest of the ride to Bangkok. Epic win.

I'm convinced that our driver is a maniac. He is swerving through traffic, passing all the other cars, and at times getting up to speeds of probably 100 mph or more. I don't see any speed limit signs, and we don't get pulled over. So I wonder if this road is just a free-for-all. It's a dangerous one though; we pass a really bad car accident on our way. This doesn't slow down our driver, however.

We finally arrive back at K.T. Guest house at 9:30 - 15 hours after we'd left Phnom Penh this morning.



Some things I can't wait to do when I get back to civilization:

1. Eat a Wendy's cheeseburger
2. Give my baby sister a big hug
3. Wear high heels
4. Take a hot shower
5. Curl my hair
6. Sleep in my own bed

Some things I'm not really looking forward to when I get home:

1. Make-up homework for my Post Production class
2. Going back to work right away
3. Opening my mailbox, which is probably overflowing by now
4. Jet lag
5. Snow / cold weather

Day Nine: The Killing Fields

Ahhh…there’s nothing like the feeling of a cold shower to wake you up at six in the morning.

Today is going to be awesome.

We leave the teamhouse at 8:30 a.m. sharp, and take the forty-five minute journey via tuk-tuk to a place called Choeung Ke, or “The Killing Fields”.

The Killing Fields is a place where tens of thousands of Cambodians were killed between 1976 and 1979, during the reign of Pol Pot. They were all buried in mass graves. Men, women, and even young children were all brutally murdered here, for no good reason. Thousands of human skulls are stacked for all to see the atrocity that occurred here. One out of every four people in Cambodia were killed during this time. Everyone here over the age of 40 knows at least a few people that were killed here in the late 70’s. Because of this, basically everyone in this country suffers from post traumatic stress disorder.

Ok, so that story is kind of a downer. Sorry. But it is a huge part of Cambodia’s history.

Bones people have found around the fields:


All of these holes represent mass graves that have been dug up:


We see all these teeth on the ground:


This is a leaf from a big palm tree-looking plant. The leaves are razor sharp. They used to slit the throats of the people to kill them with these leaves:




Pile of skulls:


Clothes of the bodies in the graves are rising up to the surface:


Today is day nine out of twelve of our trip. This trip is wrapping up and coming to an end. It will be over before we know it. Thinking about this makes me sad, because I love this place and the people in it. I want to just love and take care of all of the children here that don’t have a family. But I know that this is just not possible to do.

Our next adventure is the Russian Market. It is a big, indoor market with hundreds of shops in it. There are clothes, shoes, scares, jewelry, food, purses, souvenirs, etc. – basically everything you could ever need. We go our separate ways and track down our kill. I find some awesome souvenirs and we meet up after a few hours. Everyone walks away with at least a couple of souvenirs – success!





Now we’re thirsty and hot. We round the corner and hit up Sophea, a cheap restaurant that has incredible smoothies. If you ever get the chance to try an Orange-Banana-Passion Fruit-Pineapple Juice smoothie…do it.

And now, it is time for the moment we’ve all been waiting for. It is four p.m. The sun is poised low in the sky, getting ready to set in a couple of hours. The time lapse shot: it is happening now.

Landon, Abraham, and I pile into the tuk-tuk. The rest of the group stays behind (their loss). We have already picked out the location. It looks like this:



Yeah, you know you’re jealous.

The time lapse turns out AMAZING. Better than I ever thought possible. While the camera is running, a group of kids come over and start playing close to where the camera is shooting. I do what has to be done, to prevent them from ruining my precious shot. Instinctively, my iPhone comes out of my pocket. I motion for the kids to come over. All I can think of is it’s a good thing I have Angry Birds on here.



This distracts the kids for a good, long while. Although there is countless Angry Birds merchandise all over Cambodia, I doubt these kids have ever actually played the game. I show them how to play and then let them take over. One boy takes it in his hands, and the others watch as he plays. At first, he doesn’t understand how to work the catapult, but he catches on quickly. By the time we leave, he’s already beaten like 13 levels.

Once we get back the rest of the group piles back into our tuk-tuk and we are taken to Mike’s Burgers, which we have been told serves the best burgers in the world.

They’re really good. In-N-Out is still better though.

Landon has to spit out four of five pieces of hamburger, because they “weren’t chewable”. I guess it’s probably hard for restaurants to find good quality meat here in Cambodia, since they pretty much always keep the tendons and fat in the hamburger meat when they prepare it.

When we return to the teamhouse, we pack up all our stuff and get it all ready to be out of here early tomorrow morning. We have a LONG bus ride to Bangkok tomorrow…

Day Eight: Last Day at the Orphanage

It is 5:50 a.m. I sit on the roof of our teamhouse, waiting for the sun to rise. It is still dark, but I am beginning to see some pink on the horizon. I see a man out jogging. I hear the putter of the tuk-tuks, scooters, and dirt bikes on the streets below. The city is just beginning to wake. A rooster crows to my left. It's so peaceful at this hour, when no one is around. Ten minutes later, the city seems to have woken, and bustles around, becoming increasingly noisy.

I'm up on the roof trying to get a time lapse of the sunrise over Phnom Penh. It doesn't work. I'll have to catch the sunset tonight.

Judah is organizing and building a farm in one of the rural areas of Phnom Penh. Today, we visit the farm to get some shots of it for the documentary. The documentary is on human trafficking and child prostitution, but we want to include what Judah is doing to help. The farm is there to provide more of an income to provide for the orphans, as well as to help feed the orphans.









Next, we eat a quick lunch then make our way back to the orphanage. We set up the shot and then everyone clears out except for Judah and Landon. We'd decided last night that this would probably help the people we're interviewing feel more comfortable opening up.

Once I've finished helping set up the shot, I go inside to hang out with the orphans. One girl is holding a baby wearing nothing but a diaper who looks to be about 18 months old. The baby is crying, and the girl is frustrated. I walk in, just as she shakes her slightly in exasperation and exclaims, "Stop crying!" .

"Can I take her?" I ask as I hold out my arms. She nods and gives her to me. The baby's name is Deborah, and she actually isn't a baby at all. She's four years old, and she has something like cerebral palsy. She can't walk or talk, she isn't pottytrained, and she is tiny. As soon as I pick her up, she stops crying. I hold her for what seems like no time at all, until the girl takes Deborah back from me.

I look around and I see a girl, whose name escapes me. She's sitting against the wall, and there are tears in her eyes. I sit next to her and wrap my arms around her.

"Why are you sad?" I ask her. She doesn't answer. She doesn't even look up. I don't think she understands me, or if she does, she doesn't know enough English to express herself. We sit there for a while, my arms wrapped around her. Kids need so much love, and these ones just don't seem to get enough of it. Another baby girl is writhing on the floor, crying. She is sleepy. I pick her up and she falls asleep on my lap. Then Henn, a boy of thirteen, comes over and sits down next to me. Now I am surrounded by kids. I could die happy right now.


















We stay at the orphanage for maybe an hour, then make our plans to leave. I could have stayed the rest of the day, but there are more things to do. I still haven't seen the Vietnamese floating village yet with my own eyes. Also, it is imperative that I get a time lapse of the sunset tonight!!!! Every night this week, I've tried to do it, but something always gets in the way.

We board a boat. It has two stories: a lower level, and the deck. I am determined to get some sun while I'm here, to prove that I was actually here. It works. I get an awesome farmers tan from sitting up there. Well I suppose this farmers tan got started today on the farm, then got more prevalent on my right side when we were riding in the tuk-tuks. Now I just have to even it out. We float by the floating village. There are kids, buck-naked, jumping in the river and playing. Many are pulling in their giant nets to gather up their catch for the day. Others just stay inside their tiny covered boats, where they live, to stay cool.

According to Judah, this right here is a brothel:


It is getting close to sunset. Mike knows how important this shot is to me, so he rushes everyone back to the tuk-tuks so we can hurry and get home.

In spite of our best efforts to hurry, the sun sets on our way home. The time lapse is postponed. Again.

We go out to eat dinner at another internet cafe, then head home. Landon comes into the girls' room and we all participate in one of our very interesting conversations.

Day Seven: I Recognize that Pile of Garbage

Part I:

I'd crashed in my bed last night fully clothed again, hat on and all. That was around ten pm. I wake up at five a.m. I'm not tired anymore, so I get out my laptop and start writing some more. Allie wakes up two hours later, at seven a.m. and showers first. As of tomorrow, I will officially be out of clean clothes. We'd been promised that there would be a laundry service here, but just like everything else we were told before we came here, this too was a falsehood. I have to take matters into my own hands.

I step into the shower, fully clothed. I turn the metal knob to the left and water begins to spurt out of the shower head. We don't get warm water here. It isn't ice cold, but it definitely is cooler than what I'd call luke-warm. It feels even colder on your skin when you're fully dressed. I feel like I'm having an impromptu water fight....with myself.



8:20 a.m: Breakfast at Jars of Clay. We're becoming regulars at this place. They have the best milkshakes and stuffed croissant sandwiches. And free Wi-fi, which is always a plus. The guys finish up quickly and take off. They're going back to The Building to see if they'll have more luck with interviewing some of the people there without us girls getting in the way.

We go back to our air conditioned room at the team house to work on asset management (organizing our footage and photos), better interview questions (the ones we've been using haven't extracted the right information from the interviewees), and scripting the documentary. Compared to the rest of the trip, today feels like kind of a lazy day. I am grateful for this break, until the guys come back and share with us what we've missed. After the building, they passed a Vietnamese floating village and took some incredible shots of it, like the one below.



Let's see if I can remember this correctly. During the Vietnam war, Vietnam and Cambodia were at odds with each other. Some of the Vietnamese, however, sided with the Cambodians. So those Vietnamese were kicked out. But, Cambodians didn't want any Vietnamese living on Cambodia soil. So now they all live on house boats on a river. I thought that was pretty interesting.

While the guys had been gone, we'd also done some exploring of the teamhouse. We couldn't believe what we'd found - a washing machine! I could have died of happiness, knowing that we could have clean clothes for the rest of the trip. (The clothes I'd washed this morning in the shower were still pretty smelly.)

At three p.m., we have an interview scheduled with Randy, the boys' house leader.

He doesn't show.

He'd made some excuse to some other people as to why he can't make it, who came and told us. Of course, we know that the real reason is that, just as was the case with Holly's girls, he doesn't want to feel like he's exploiting any of those kids. Man, these people don't make it easy to work with them. We decide to ditch this organization and move on to a different one who will actually appreciate what we're trying to do for them.

Part II: My Favorite Part of the Day

It is five o'clock. We have some interviews scheduled over at Judah's orphanage. We take a tuk-tuk about 5 kilometers and pull up at a very colorful gate that had been undoubtedly painted by the kids. The moment we arrive, we are greeted by dozens of little tiny smiling faces. Before we can even exit the tuk-tuk, they're climbing all over on it, on us. They're smiling and saying, "Hello!" and hugging us. The youngest is only about a year old, and the oldest is in his teens. They're all orphans. The average age, from what I can see, looks to be about five, or maybe seven. Whatever the actual age, they're all very young. I start snapping pictures, and they LOVE it. Every time I take one, they all run over to me and gather around as I show them the picture. Then they run back and pose again. I take a few hundred pictures, then decide to go help my team, who is already filming an interview.

As usual, no one wants to open up. No one wants to admit they were a prostitute. It is shameful here, and people don't like to talk about it. We decide to move indoors for some more privacy. We interview Nalan, one of the leaders here at the orphanage, who was sold into prostitution at the age of six, and wasn't rescued from street life until the age of sixteen. It is a hard story to hear, and difficult for her to share. She starts to cry as she delves into some more of the details of life on the streets. My heart breaks for what some of these people have to go through.

We all give Nalan a hug. We just have to; she looks like she needs so much love. They all do. We schedule a time to return tomorrow afternoon for some interviews with more people, and then depart the orphanage. All the kids give us hugs and climb all over us before we leave. I can't help but love every single one of them.











3rd World Skateboard:




This is Joo; she's the one I want to take home most:


All thee kids are fascinated with our cameras:


Our tuk-tuk takes us back to our teamhouse. We set out in search of a place to eat. Mike wants "street food", or food from a street vendor. We walk all over the place, and no one seems to be able to make up their minds. I finally decide that I would rather eat at The Coffee House, across the street from Jars of Clay. So, we split up. Us girls eat at The Coffee House, and the boys will keep looking for something new to try.

We finish at nine p.m. We hadn't eaten much. The three of us begin walking in the general direction of our teamhouse, not paying full attention to exactly where we are or where we need to turn. I think we all had been counting on each other to lead the way. The problem with this place is, everything looks the same. It's all these narrow streets with crumbling sidewalks and rusty gates in front of each house. We're totally lost. None of us have kept track of how far we've been walking, or where we turned or where supposed to turn. Suddenly--

"I recognize that pile of garbage!" Allie exclaims.

So we find our way home, using an apparently unique pile of garbage as a landmark.

Once we arrive, we realize the guys have the only key, and we are locked out of the house. Oh, and we have NO idea where the guys are. Great.

We can't just stand the on the street like a bunch of hookers...so we begrudgingly make our way to Water of Life.

"We're locked out," we tell them. "Do you guys have a spare key?" Lon finds one for us and walks us back. Lon is a local, but he speaks almost like an American, with only a slight accent. He says five years ago, he couldn't speak a single word of English. Now he's completely fluent. This is amazing to me.

He unlocks our gate and lets us in. I can't wait to climb into bed and sleep for a looong time. My head hits the pillow and soon, I am fast asleep...

"Creeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaakkkk," I wake up to the bone-chilling sound of our fan turning from side to side. My eyes open. It is HOT IN HERE. Two things about our room: there is a fan, and there is an air conditioning. So far, we haven't been using the fan at ALL because of the noise it makes. It's literally like nails on a chalkboard. I clumsily climb down from my bunk bed and locate the air conditioning remote. I fumble around with it and try to turn it on. It doesn't come on. I try all the buttons. No luck. Uuuuuughh! It is So. Damn. Hot. I give up on getting any sleep for the rest of the night, annoyed that the A/C won't work. Then, fifteen minutes before I'm planning on waking up, Allie wakes up and pushes the "Power" button on the remote, just like I did before. The air comes on.

Seriously??!?!?!?