A visit to Quneitra.

Located at the southern end of the Anti-Lebanon Mountains lies the Golan Heights, an area surrounded by four countries: Syria, Lebanon, Jordan, and Israel. With its fertile soil and abundance of water, the rocky plateau has been a scene of battles between regional powers for several centuries over who controls the land.

Originally part of Syria, the land was lost to Israel on June 10th, 1967, the last day of the June War (for Arabs) or the Six-Day War (for Israelis). It was briefly recaptured in 1973 during the Ramadan War/October War (for Arabs), or the Yom Kippur War (for Israelis), when Egypt and Syria launched simultaneous attacks on Israeli-controlled Sinai and Golan Heights, but Israel regained control in its subsequent counter-offensive. It was only in the negotiations following a ceasefire that Syria was able to regain some 450 square kilometers, a demilitarized United Nations Disengagement Observer Force (UNDOF) zone a couple of kilometers from the 'de facto' border between the two countries. At the eastern edge of the zone lies Quneitra, a city which was completely destroyed when Israeli troops withdrew in 1974. For many reasons, Syria has left the city almost exactly as the Israelis left it.

When I visited Syria at the end of February, Quneitra was the first place I visited. Although situated only 60 kilometers southwest of Damascus, I hired a driver because public transportation to the area doesn't come with frequency and would have required changing microbuses at Garage Sumariyah in Damascus and then a change to a service taxi (shared taxi) from the town of Khan Arnabeh, plus I had also heard recent rumors that you couldn't enter the U.N.-supervised zone unless you have your own transport. The road that heads down to Quneitra is picturesque, going through fields and farms, many of them producing vegetables, especially the olive, which is a specialty of Syria. When the snow-covered Mount Hermon of the Anti-Lebanon Mountains started appearing on the right, it was a sign that we were getting near, and soon we could start seeing some vehicles with 'U.N.' stickers.

Since Quneitra is part of the UNDOF zone, there was a gate, where Syrian officials stopped our car to check my passport and permit, which I had arranged in advance at the Ministry of Interior in downtown Damascus. It was a mere five minutes until they gave me back my passport and a Syrian officer hopped on the car to guide us around the demolished city. As we went on, houses with roofs lying on the ground and walls completely knocked or torn down started to appear on both sides of the street. We went through sites where there used to be shops, a mosque, a church, a school, and also a hospital, but obviously, all were vacated. The government does not encourage former residents to come back, and the few who still remain in town cater for the U.N. troops and visitors.

At the western edge of the battered city were barbed wires, which mark the 'de facto' border, beyond which is effectively Israeli-occupied land. There is an unofficial border crossing that primarily allows Syrian Druze from the Golan Heights to cross one way through the passage to study, work and live in the rest of Syria. Only those who receive special permission are allowed to cross the border and come back for the Habil pilgrimage. More recently, apples produced in the Golan have been shipped across the border into Syria. However, no way is the crossing open to anybody else, obviously, as the two nations are officially still at war.

It truly was a ghost town with an eerie atmosphere, but it's not as simple as that. We were able to get off the car and walk around in some places, but could hear nothing. Just voices of us and the sound of our footsteps, plus the occasional wind. On the walls of some buildings, we could see Arabic inscriptions as well as those written in Hebrew, probably left by the Israeli soldiers. The Arab-Israeli conflict is one that is extremely delicate and has been complicated by the powers influencing the nations in a tangled web of relations. Israel was heavily criticized by the United Nations for the city's destruction, while Israel has criticized Syria for leaving the city as it is and claimed the Syrians added further damage to exaggerate. However, we have to remember that it's the locals who are the most affected. Their houses were burnt down by the Israelis, and now Syria is telling them they can't go home. The entire population is now scattered around the country.

On the way out of the area, we saw two groups, probably families, picnicking on grassland near the crushed buildings. Syrians like picnicking, and perhaps those were just some people longing for their peaceful return to their motherland.

Returning to good old Philly.

Philadelphia. It's like my second home, or the first. It's where I spent my young days, my middle school years, and where I made many friends. I don't remember too much of the days when my family lived down near Washington D.C. before we moved up to the Keystone State, and though I spent no more than four years up there out of a total of ten I spent in the U.S., Philly means more to me than any other place in the country.

Looking back at the days, it's where I grew up most while living overseas. It is where environmental studies caught on me, while simultaneously being drawn into participating in activities that do social good for the communities, locally or globally. I still clearly remember the days when I did volunteer work every other week with the Whosoever Gospel Mission, a homeless shelter in Germantown, helping the homeless to empower themselves and become independent, or helping fundraisers for the UNICEF and the Kobe earthquake. Come to think of it, how many middle schools in other parts of the country or in Japan have volunteering with the homeless as part of the curriculum? Maybe some in the U.S., but I've never seen nor heard of in Japan. Looking back now, it helps to make you feel that they're not too different from us, but maybe just born in socially handicapped families, and together with unfortunate circumstances and some mistakes, have become 'homeless'. Well, this leads to a different topic so I'll stop here...

I revisited Philly in March, as part of our 'graduation trip' I went along with five other friends at my university. In my words, Philly is like a countryside city of charm sleeping or rather 'hidden' between the economic powerhouse of New York and the capital Washington D.C. However, it's not any other mega city nor just a countryside city. Having been the first capital of the nation, the historic Old City area or the many cobblestone streets accompanied by well-preserved homes, churches, and various other monuments help to keep the rich history alive, while Center City has blossomed into a world-class downtown with towering skyscrapers, five-star restaurants, theaters, and galleries.

Philly is a city that has also given birth to a handful of favorite local foods that are now known throughout the country: cheesesteak, soft pretzel, and water ice. So I definitely made sure we didn't miss out on having a taste of those, especially the cheesesteak. Some say that "a proper cheesesteak consists of provolone or Cheez Whiz slathered on an Amoroso roll (definitely a must!) and stuffed with thinly shaved grilled meat", however, it's pretty much up to personal preference. Some like the rolls toasted and crispy (that's me), while others like them soft and chewy. Some would dip it in grease, while others would complain that too much grease makes the roll soggy (me). Some prefer the meat to be diced as thinly as possible (yup, me), while others prefer larger chunks. Some love the artificial Cheez Whiz (me too), while others prefer American or provolone cheese. Where to get the best? Again, up to you, but my favorite is Jim's Steaks. Although Pat's and Geno's both claim to be the first cheesesteak, Jim's produces better. Jim's has four shops, with the original one still located in West Philly, but the one that attracts most is the one down on South Street. It was 15 years ago when I went there the first time.

South Street is one of many shopping districts in the city. Offering an eclectic mix of over 300 mostly independently-owned shops, including diners to ice cream parlors, head shops to tattoo parlors, hip-hop clothing stores to jewelry shops, records stores to home and gift shops, and add to that lingerie and sex goods shops, South Street offers a unique selection of shopping opportunities; no wonder Jim's at South Streets gets a waiting line every weekend. Another shopping district I like, despite with a totally different atmosphere, is Chestnut Hill in Northwest Philly. The only business district in a largely residential area (big homes too), Germantown Avenue, with cobblestone and trolley tracks, is like the Main Street in a small old town with quaint storefronts, Victorian lampposts, and shoppers who stop to chat with one another. It has a modest selection of antique shops, upscale home goods shops and clothing shops, and several independent art galleries. It's a nice place to stroll on a weekend afternoon.

Oh boy, am I missing Philly. :)

Savoring Polish cuisine and Żywiec.

When my Polish friend's family took me around the country, I had the opportunity to savor a variety of Polish cuisine, both at their home in Żywiec and at restaurants around the country. Polish cuisine contains much that is distinctive, but little that is truly unique to the country, with most of it representing a blend of culinary styles that run across countries in east-central Europe, such as Belarus, Lithuania, and Ukraine. Meat and potatoes are the mainstay of the national diet, while north European vegetables including carrots, cabbage, and beetroot provide good accompaniment.

When I visited, it was in February, still the winter season, though at the end of it, so there was plenty of snow that had yet to melt. During this time of year, vegetables become harder to come by, excluding those imported, and together with the long cold season, the people consume more meat and cheese. Every morning, together with the family I had bread with many kinds of cheese and ham. It was simple, but the bread bought at a nearby bakery was certainly not something I find everywhere, and it was the first time I felt I could eat cheese without eating it with something else. Simple, but depending on the combination of bread, ham, and cheese, you could enjoy a variety of tastes. A good choice of sweet pastries goes along well too.

What I also enjoyed much was the soup. It plays an important role in any Polish menu, serving as an introduction to a multi-course meal or just a mid-day stomach-filler. The most famous of them, and what I found to be my favorite as well, is barszcz (borscht), a reddish beetroot-flavored broth with a mild yet perfect balance of sweet and sour tastes. If you visit in the summer, you would find a refreshing variation on these theme called chłodnik, which is cold borscht served with lashings of sour cream and a side order of boiled potatoes. Another soup I remember is the fasolka, a solid, almost stew-like combination of beans and smoked sausage.

As I previously mentioned, meat is often the main part of Polish cooking, but it is pork that takes up top billing. You can reveal for yourself how important the pig is to the Polish society if you look over the delicatessen counter and see the sheer size of the repertoire of sausages and smoked cuts of pork. Although the generic name for sausage is kiełbasa, there are plenty of varieties to choose from: the thin, smoked kabanos, the garlic-rich wiejska, and the pink, mildly-spicy krakowska. A pork dish that I remember well is golonka, a deliciously tender roasted pork knuckle, traditionally served with chrzan, which is horseradish sauce. Dairy products, especially the cheese, is also central to the Polish diet. The oscypek, which is a bun-shaped sheep milk cheese sold everywhere in the town of Zakopane (though available in other places as well), was delicious, especially the smoked ones.

Something not to miss, and what has become more or less an icon of Polish cuisine is the pierogi. They are boiled dumplings of scallop shell shape and size, and are stuffed with a variety of savory or sweet ingredients, from minced meat, cabbage, potatoes, mushrooms, and cheese, to strawberries, cherries, or other fruit. The food is consumed well in this part of Europe, where the people speak language of the Slav origin. Belarus, Russia, Ukraine, Slovakia, Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, Germany, Czech are all among them, although sometimes they are under different names such as kalduny in Belarus, and koldūnai in Lithuania. There is a similarity to the Italian ravioli and tortellini, or the manti, khinkali, or chuchvara in the trans-Caucasus region, including Turkey, while not too similar but still sharing some aspects are the Afghani mantu, Mongolian buuz, Nepalese-Tibetan momo, Chinese wonton, Japanese gyoza, and the Korean mandu.

Oh, yes, and I didn't leave out beer! Situated in the southeastern corner of Silesia province in Poland, Żywiec is a peaceful countryside town with a population of just over 30,000, and it is known for the beer that is named after the town. Although now under the Dutch Heineken empire, the Żywiec Brewery was originally founded by the Habsburg family in 1852 and has been producing ever since. Competing brewers include Tyskie and Lech, and though I could not recognize too much of a difference between the three, it was certainly nice to visit the history-rich bar located adjacent to the brewery and sip on a glass of Żywiec, naturally the most popular of the three in this part of Poland, enjoying the atmosphere of a Polish countryside bar.

A visit to Auschwitz, Oświęcim.

70 kilometers west of Kraków lies the town of Oświęcim. Although a quiet, countryside town with a population of just over 40,000, this place is recognized widely as, and is still indissolubly linked with the name the Nazis gave it when they occupied Poland: Auschwitz.

I had the opportunity to visit this notorious camp in February, right after I had my license examination. I actually hopped over to Europe the very next day. My trip to Poland, and the first one to a country in eastern Europe, was made possible by Krzysztof Sanetra, a Polish friend I got to know well through a program at the University of Edinburgh, and his family. Although it was not his best time, as he was busy writing reports and preparing for exams, we were finally able to meet up once again, and he and his family were kind enough to plan out a sightseeing trip for me. I truly don't know how to thank them for driving me around the southern half of the country, sometimes on five-hour legs, arranging English-speaking guides for me everywhere, letting me stay at theirs, and taking care of me.

Following the Nazi invasion of Poland in September 1939, Oświęcim and its surrounding region were incorporated into the domains of the Third Reich, and the town's name was changed to Auschwitz. Establishing new concentration camps in this newly conquered territory was a German priority from the beginning, as camps in their homeland were already getting overcrowded, and the occupation of Poland dramatically increased the number of potential 'undesirables' who would need to be interned. The site of Oświęcim was perfect for many reasons. It already had a Polish-built camp for migrant workers (which could easily be converted to prisons), it was remotely located between the Soła and Vistula rivers, and it was strategically situated at the 'center of Europe'.

Designed by Rudolf Höss, the camp was opened on June 14, 1940, initially with 728 Polish prisoners. The camp originally comprised 20 buildings, of which six had a second floor. However as the number of inmates grew, an extra story was added to all one-floor buildings and another eight buildings were built by 1942, using the prisoners as workforce. As time passed, the Nazis started to deport to the camp people from all over Europe, including Soviet prisoners-of-war (POWs), Gypsies, Czechs, Yugoslavs, French, Austrians, and Germans as well, though many of them were Jews. The number of prisoners kept on increasing, and a second camp, which is much larger than the original, was opened in 1941 three kilometers away in Brzezinka. It became known as Auschwitz II - Birkenau. A third site was constructed in Monowice near Oświęcim and became Auschwitz III. At peak, the camps accommodated no less than 20,000 people

When you enter the Auschwitz Museum, which is located at the original Auschwitz I site, you will see above what the prisoners passed under each day: a gate with the cynical inscription 'ARBEIT MACHT FREI', which translates to 'work brings freedom'. It was a bitter cold day when I visited, with temperatures only reaching a high of five degrees below zero Celsius and snow still frozen, but back when the monstrous facility was still in operation, prisoners being forced to hard labor (sometimes exceeding 12 hours) in this harsh environment was the norm. Prison cellars now display various objects, including numerous photos, empty cans of Zyklon B (the substance thrown into the 'shower room' and could kill 2,000 in 30 minutes), the actual belongings of the people such as shoes and suitcases with the name of the deportees, and cloth and carpets made from human hair.

We also walked to the 'Death Block', which was a prison within a prison, completely isolated from the rest of the camp. The ground floor and the basement 'torture' cellars are still preserved in their original form. The courtyard between Blocks 10 and 11 is enclosed on two sides by a high wall. The wooden blinds on the windows of Block 10 were installed to prevent the inmates from observing the executions taking place here, though they could still hear the bullets being fired. At this 'wall of death', the Nazis shot thousands of prisoners, mostly Poles. In the yard in front of Block 11, the Nazis carried out punishments in the form of hanging prisoners to a special stake by their arms, which were bent behind their backs. An endless number of visitors leave behind flowers and candles at this place.

The more I walked though the Auschwitz facilities, the more it gave me an eerie feel. It is so-to-speak a 'factory of death'. When prisoners arrived, children, the elderly, the handicapped, the pregnant, were immediately sent to the 'shower rooms' and mass-executed in a mere 30 minutes with Zyklon B (Cyclon B). Their belongings would be collected and reused or sold, their hair would be 'reused' to weave cloth, and there were experiments to collect fat from the corpses and produce soap. And, not surprisingly, all of this was carried out by the prisoners as well. Those who were young and of the working generation were kept alive longer, though forced to hard labor in temperatures of sometimes -20 degrees Celsius, given only one meal per day, allowed to visit the toilet only twice, and lived in bunks with poor hygiene. Cleaning the toilets was said to be the 'best tasks' among the prisoners, as they were always working inside, and could visit the toilet anytime they wanted to. There were tortures all the time, however, the harsh environment was often enough to take the toll. Whenever someone died, it was the norm for the inmates to keep it a secret, so that they can receive one more meal.

I found myself at a loss of words. With the even more massive Auschwitz II facility, the complex gives you the impression that it is truly a 'human-processing' factory, and one that is carefully planned and cleverly laid out. Yes, it was politics. But, how can humans become so inhumane? Was it not possible to direct all that intelligence and effort towards something else? We learn history so that we do not make the same mistakes and we can build on top of the past. However, though in different situations, genocides have been repeated, and more than once. Oświęcim will remain a place everyone should visit at least once in their lives...

Taking a break in Cairns.

In December, I traveled to Cairns, in the northeastern corner of Australia, with my family. It was certainly a nice and long-needed break from the daily rigorous studying. My October was full of exams, and the beginning of December saw the last, yet the biggest exam of the six years: the graduation exam. Not until we pass that do we become eligible to take the national license board. In Japan, graduation from a faculty of medicine requires you to pass this graduation exam, instead of submitting a thesis. So, we do go through a period of 'torturous studying', however, we are never required to learn how to write a paper.

Named after William Wellington Cairns, then Governor of Queensland, this city was originally founded in 1876 to serve miners heading for the Hodgkinson River goldfield. However, the region has been inhabited by the aboriginal Walubarra Yidinji people, who called and still calls the area Gimuy, since long before the Europeans came. Later on, the city developed into a railroad hub and a major port for exporting sugar cane, which still remains the biggest local industry after tourism, and metals, minerals, and other agricultural products from the surrounding coastal areas.

Cairns gives you the impression of a peaceful countryside city. It doesn't have skyscrapers, nor does it have multi-story shopping complexes. It's not about the hustling and bustling one has to endure in Sydney or Melbourne. The seaside boardwalk gives you a pleasant view of the port and the peninsula across the cove, which is sacred aboriginal territory, and especially picturesque at sunset. However, the nearby beaches are not a place for swimming, as it is infested with crocodiles and some stinging jellyfish, a reminder that the seashore is predominantly mangrove swamp, and that the port was built after clearing part of it.

The best and most beautiful waters for swimming nearby is certainly out at the Great Barrier Reef, which is a UNESCO-registered world heritage site, and stretches over a distance of 2,600 kilometers. It is composed of over 900 islands and 2,900 individual reefs. Cairns is naturally the hub for those who come to see what is the largest single structure made by living organisms. However, we must keep in mind that the booming tourism (generates AU$1 billion every year) together with climate change are the biggest 'enemies' for this great natural wonder.

A visit to Lao-China Friendship Hospital.

When we visited Laos in August, I went without any prior contact, since I knew nobody in the country, but still, I wanted to get a glimpse of what health care looks like, and listen to the actual health care workers in the country. So, one afternoon, we negotiated with a 'songthaew' driver to take us to Luang Prabang Provincial Hospital, more commonly known by locals as the 'Lao-China Friendship Hospital', or simply the 'Chinese' hospital.

Located off the main road four kilometers south of the city on a seven-hectare land, the hospital was completed in 2004 with assistance from China, as its name implies. It was already during the late hours of the afternoon, so the outpatient department had already closed and many staff gone home. Although without any contact beforehand, the staff at the counter in the deserted main hall kindly allowed us to walk around the hospital. Upon starting our 'tour', we noticed that all of the emergency exit signs and fire hydrant labels were written in Chinese and English only, and without Lao, no wonder the locals call it the 'Chinese' hospital.

While we were walking, we came into a nurse, who was apparently about to go home, and she was kind enough to let us hear about the hospital and her job. The hospital is divided into four major departments: inpatient, outpatient, labor room, and pediatrics. The outpatient clinic includes internal medicine, surgery, pediatrics, obstetrics and gynecology, family planning, otorhinolaryngology (ear-nose-throat), dentistry, and emergency. Depending on the day, the hospital sees about 25 to 100 patients per day, with Monday getting the highest number. Its medical staff comprises 97 nurses, 27 physicians, plus 10 volunteering nurses from South Korea. Some common medical problems include common cold, respiratory infections, cardiovascular disorders, gastroenteritis, and accidents. She said that an increasing number of people do not take enough exercise, something I am used to hearing in other parts of the globe as well.

After going through the examination rooms, we visited the ANC, or the antenatal care department, which they say is the busiest part of the facility. At least three staff must constantly be present here, so they are currently working on a 24-hour-work-and-24-hour-rest rotation. For vacation, they get 10 days off per year. According to them, the busiest months are February, March, May, and June, before the rainy season starts. Here we met some nursing students, who told us that they have a 2.5-year program. There were no medical students, but we found out that is because the sole faculty of medicine in Laos is in Vientiane, the capital.

For the patient, there are two often-encountered problems in the medical scene, although they do represent larger underlying issues. One is the lack of medicine matching that of international standards. In recent years, foreign aid, especially from China and Japan, has helped hospitals to update their out-dated facilities and equipment, and bring up more health care professionals, however, there still are often cases where the patient is asked to travel down to the capital of Vientiane, almost 500 kilometers away on a recently-paved mountainous road. And even at there too, the patient is often asked to cross the 'Friendship Bridge' to receive further treatment at a Thai hospital. In emergency cases, such as major traffic accidents, this clearly does not work. And, obviously the patient would have to pay for all of the transportation costs, and the fees skyrocket if you need to be transported across the border.

This leads to the second issue: money. Universal health care is still non-existent, so even in public hospitals the patient needs to pay. The same goes with ambulance, where patients pay by the kilometer, like a taxi. If she or he gets admitted, the average fee per night for a normal room is 40,000 kip (about US$4.80), but that is not easy for a country where people live on an average 10,000 kip (about US$1.20) per day, though the economic disparities are great. People who live in Vientiane, the nation's capital, are the richest, where over 50% of households have cars and 40% have air-conditioners, while next comes those living in the capitals of the provinces, like Luang Prabang, and the poorest are the farmers who live in the mountains and the countryside. According to the staff, patients who have financial difficulties paying fees may submit a request to receive aid from the government, but again, one needs to travel down to the capital to do so. It is not surprising that the 150 beds at Luang Prabang hospital are never near full.

The government seems to have started working on these issues over these few years, and is in the process of not only setting up a clinic in every village, but a primary school, and encouraging more villagers to have their children enrolled. Of course, the families would have to give up on earnings that would be made through having the child work instead and understand the long-term significance of education, so it's not easy, but at least they wouldn't have to walk hours to go to school anymore. They are also working to put more emphasis on preventive medicine, and moreover, health-building through community participation. Things have only started to change, and it will certainly take a long time, however, the interesting point about Laos is that they are going through the process at the same time their economy is developing, something other economically-developed nations went through at separate times, with economic development coming first.

Strolling in Luang Prabang.

Between the mountains covered with jungles in north-central Laos lies the city of Luang Prabang. It is situated where the Nam Khan River flows into the Mekong River, well over 400 kilometers north of Vientiane. Every dawn, lines of monks dressed in orange robes walk through the streets to collect alms, and along with the Buddhist temples and the simple concrete buildings, the atmosphere seems to resemble that of its neighbor Thailand at one glance. Even the language is very similar to that spoken in 'Isan', the northeastern part of Thailand. The cuisine is similar too; Tam Mak-Hung (papaya salad) is basically the same as Som Tam, and they eat that with Khao Niaw (sticky rice), and it even goes along with Kai Yang (roasted chicken).

However, if you look carefully, the decorations of the temples are different, architecture reflecting the days of French colonization still remains in many houses, and most of all, its social systems, including education, health care, and welfare is like those of its neighbor decades ago. Education is essentially free for public primary school (five years), junior high (three), and senior high (three), but the percentages of children enrolled are 84.2%, 54.4%, and 34.2%, respectively. And, since the country does not keep track of personal identification records, the actual age a child gets enrolled varies. The number of years for university education varies from two to seven depending on the majoring subject, however, none are free. Free health care is not available, but government aid may be issued if you travel all the way down to Vientiane and ask for it.

I paid a visit to this landlocked country in the Indochina Peninsula in August. Registered a World Heritage Site by the UNESCO in 1995, the compact city of Luang Prabang is a nice and calm place to spend a couple of days. Besides the symbolic temple of Wat Xiengthong and the hill of Phousi, where you can get a picturesque view of the entire city, there are many so-called 'speed boats' that take you up and down the Mekong to various nearby villages and the buddha-adorned caves of Pak Ou, while 'songthaews' or 'tuk-tuks' (same nomenclature as Thailand!) can take you to the beautiful waterfalls of Tat Kuangsi. At night, nearby villagers, including the Hmong, come out to sell various goods, creating a bustling street market scene.

The recent influx of tourists to this economically underdeveloped nation has given birth to a plethora of bed-and-breakfast's and restaurants that satisfy a westerner's taste buds, however, this happened after restaurants catering for the locals came in, ironically. Families were and are still not too used to eating outside the home. So, it wasn't easy for me to find local food with a local taste at a local cost. Even the packaged foods, most, if not all of them, are imported from Thailand. People say that the more north you go, the more products from China and Vietnam you will find. But basically, there are only a few mass-produced goods (not to miss the famous Beer Lao!) packaged on Lao soil. What I personally liked the most was the Khao Soi (different from the Thai cuisine with the same name) I found being served at a 'street picnic table' right beside the Mekong. I even went for a second on the following day.

Mae Sot and Route 105.

In the northwest of Thailand on the Moei River border with Burma lies the small town of Mae Sot, the westernmost town of Tak province. The town is not only interesting for being a trade post between Burma and Thailand, but also for its diverse ethnicity: Thai, Burmese, Karen, Rohingya, Karreni, Mon, Kachin, and many other minority groups from across the river. Take a stroll in the market and you will notice that Thai is not necessary the major language spoken here. Due to the ongoing conflict between the Burmese military junta and the many ethnic minorities that inhabit the land along the border with Thailand, thousands have crossed the river and settled in villages and refugee camps along the border near Mae Sot.

A Muslim community is also present in Mae Sot, together with a mosque. One of my good old Thai friends lives in Mae Sot and she and her husband took me to a small cafe on a corner near the mosque. They make rot-tii-oo and tea at this place which seems to have become a pleasant get-together place for the locals to chit-chat during the early hours. Rarely will people be able to find any rot-tii-oo left after 10AM.

As of 2006, Tak province is home to 480,000, of which 150,000 are originally from outside the nation. And of that, approximately 80,000 are refugees that have either been registered or in the process of being so. Those who have managed to cross the border, most of whom are undocumented, have found shelter in border villages and refugee camps set up by the UN or other NGOs. And many of those who are not registered as a refugee work in the many factories near Mae Sot on a very low pay scale, though much better than in the land they came from. Meanwhile, Burma's population stands at around 47 million, of which Karens account for 7 million, the largest 'minority' group. Well over 600,000 have been displaced in camps within their country.

Naturally, Mae Sot is also the 'hub' for the many NGOs that work along the border to assist the endless number of refugees. Among them is a health care post called Mae Tao Clinic (MTC). Set up in 1989 by Dr. Cynthia Maung, herself a Karen who fled from Burma after the crushing of the '8888 Uprising' by the military regime, the clinic caters for those who travel across the border in seek of medical assistance, since there is none, if any, accessible, affordable health care available in Karen state (around 0.5% of the GDP is spent on health care), and for those who have already settled on the Thai side, but could not access health care because they are undocumented immigrants or simply for the lack of money. I met a lady who had walked for over a month from near Yangon, where she lost all of her family members in the deadly cyclone Nargis. She was suffering from PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder).

Staffed with 530, of which 260 are health care professionals, and many of whom themselves are originally from across the border, the clinic is visited by approximately 400 every day, totaling over 120,000 patients per year. Although now well-known and attracting donations from all over the globe, the budget still remains extremely tight with an ever-increasing number of patients and a lot of issues have yet to be solved. Its in-patient facilities are still infection-prone, especially to the likes of tuberculosis, and more and more refugees give birth here, meaning more and more stateless children.

About 90 kilometers north of Mae Sot on Route 105 lies the refugee camp of Mae La, the largest of them all, housing 37,000 registered refugees and no less than another 30,000 unregistered ones. Because Thailand is not a member of UN's Convention Relating to the Status of Refugees, a person who wishes to be registered needs to be approved by both the UNHCR (UN Refugee Agency) and the Thai Ministry of Interior. With temples, churches, mosques, graveyards, schools, libraries, markets, and even a university, Mae La is like a huge refugee 'city', and so surprisingly, life here is not the worst for those who are registered, since they are eligible to receive food aid as well as space for housing, at no cost. Bored with nothing to do but unable to leave the camp nor return to their mother land, many couples fill the time to make babies, and family planning has become a seriously important topic. Others apply to live in a third country, while a handful work for the NGOs within the camp.

I visited one of Shanti Volunteer Association's (SVA) libraries, where children were forgetting their darker days and enjoying the time for learning. However, a boy who seemed unable to join the flock caught my attention. According to the staff, he had only arrived a couple of weeks ago, but just received the news that his father, who was also on the way, was killed in a fighting between Burmese government troops, the Democratic Karen Buddhist Army (DKBA), and the Karen National Liberation Army (KNLA), the military arm of the Karen National Union (KNU), which has been fighting for independence of the Karen state (in their words Kawthoolei). Whether or not that news was true is unsure, however, the extensive 'underground' information network of the people cannot be underestimated. And, the Thai cellphone can be used near the border even if it's on the Burmese side, as well.

Those who have been caught by the Burmese military or the DKBA have reportedly been forced to hard labor or simply 'used' as human walls in the event of fighting. In June, DKBA troops raided a Karen school, forcing students to flee to the jungle. 89 of them managed to reach Thai soil, however, nine of them caught malaria on the way in this naturally high-risk area for this fatal mosquito-borne disease. In the same month, near the Thai village of Mae Salit Luang landed four mortar shells launched from the Burmese side, prompting the Thais to increase border security. On June 15, the KNLA headquarters in Manerplaw fell to the Burmese army, and in May-June alone, no less than another 4,000 crossed the border.

'Chronic emergency' is the term many use to describe this region's volatile situation, which has not improved, or only deteriorated, since the conflict broke out in 1949.