Giant Steps in Silence

Siem Reap, Cambodia- Leaving town early in the morning, I pedaled swiftly along the road, inhaling fumes as cars whizzed dangerously close by. For some reason, I thought that riding a bike was a good idea, despite almost hitting a cyclist on the bus ride into town the day before. The sun wasn't up yet, but the traffic was already dense. Thousands of people were vying to get the best seats for watching the sunrise over Angkor Wat, and I was one of them. The sweat poured from my body, soaking my shirt in the morning heat. I passed through the compound gates and continued, feverishly pedaling toward the temple. After locking my bike to a rack, I joined the throngs of people heading toward the temple, its towering pinnacles stretching to the sky. As the sun rose, I remember being somewhat disappointed with the event. Whether it was the thousands of people surrounding me or the cloudless sky, I don't know, but it didn't feel special.

While people started walking back to their cars, looking forward to getting back to their hotels for breakfast, I continued my exploration around the giant stone structure. On the west side of the complex, shaded from the sun, a staircase rose sharply from the ground, extending up toward a giant doorway. An old woman sat on the giant steps in silence. This was the special moment that I was looking for. I stood back through a couple doorways so as not to disturb, and fired off a few photos. Feeling somewhat euphoric, I continued my walk around the ruins, but I never shot anything else that made me as happy.

I find it a little funny that the old woman will never know that she played an integral role in shaping my future, but I like it that way. It makes me realize how easy it is to effect those around us and how sometimes we help others when we're not even expecting to.

Mostar, Bosnia: A Hopeful City

Mostar, Bosnia- Coming to a stop, the sound of tires rolling over gravel is second only to the wind racing through the grass nearby. In the distance, clouds move swiftly as the sun sinks lower toward the horizon. Before me stands an enormous 100ft. tall cross, overlooking Mostar, Bosnia, a city rife with a history of violent religious intolerance.

As I lean against my tiny rental enjoying the evening, a car full of teenagers passes by, parking in front of the cross. They get out, snapping pictures, and running around laughing. Their carefree attitude perfectly aligns with the scene surrounding me. After about 10 minutes, they pack up and drive off, leaving me to enjoy a golden sunset above a hopeful city.

Walking through old town, a familiar feeling fills the air. Cobble streets wind through tight alleyways, with buildings on either side stretching up toward the sky. Vendors beckon for attention while children run unhindered through the crowd. Mostar however, is different than other small towns across Europe.

Since the war, back in the 90's, the city has made a point to keep buildings that have been destroyed and left abandoned as a reminder of the atrocities that had taken place. Walking through town, new apartment complexes stand side-by-side with vacant, bullet-ridden hollowed out shells.

Two women walk their infants past a nondescript war-torn building. The echoes of drunks and junkies from inside reverberate out toward a bustling city, teeming with a generation of youth ready to rewrite history.

Christians and Muslims peacefully go about their lives, aware of their differences and the underlying tensions that go along with them. Struggling not to relive the atrocities that remain just below the surface, waiting to be unearthed.