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Leading up to climatic return to Siem Reap, my body began to quiver with excitement — numb in all the senses but my fingers beg to caress the walls of Angkor once again. But this fourth visit in eight months came on the auspicious occasion of the Khmer New Year — The Year of the Dog.

Our driver was a middle-aged local man, who wears two disguises: a government military staff by day but for the four day pilgrimage, he’s our friendly neighborhood tour guide.

The trip began late as anticipated because of Tony’s high maintenance ass (different entry). Accompanied in the 4-door Corolla is Susan, an American teacher who has called Cambodia home for more than a year. We are to stay at her newly acquired restaurant — The Butterfly Garden Bar.

Three hours into our pitiful, barely blowing air conditioning ride, our stomach growled in unisom cueing our first major pit stop.

Some hole-in-the-wall restaurant in Kompong Thom province satisfied our four stomachs; and off we resume our trip northward.

Tony “Re-al” Roun is a Khmerican artist from Lowell, Massachusetts, and one-third of the hip-hop pop trio, SEASIA [www.seasiamusic.com]. He’s in Phnom Penh for a few months to work on his solo album slated for a 2007 releasal.

At around early 4 pm under the no mercy April sun, we arrived at our destination.

The Butterfly Garden Bar is situated east of the Siem Reap River near the Old Market (Phsar Chas). According to the Lonely Planet: Cambodia, the tropical garden here is home to hundreds of live butterflies flitting about under a huge net. It’s a quiet spot in which to pass the time when it’s hot, and the small menu includes drinks and international dishes.

After Tony and I unpacked our luggages to the guest bedroom, we unwind on the comfortable sofas and fans. The lady charmer, Tony, introduced himself to the three young staffs, while two visiting tourists caught my attention.

Steffen and Emilia are two young adventurists from Sweden. They have been travelling much of SE Asia prior to arriving in Cambodia before they continue their journey into Vietnam and Laos. I happily shared my knowledge about Cambodia and Siem Reap’s many must-see spots. After the thirty minute conversation, I comfortably gave my Phnom Penh Post business cards and encouraged they call if they want the “real Angkor experience.”

Evening time came around and so was our appetite. We decided to take a casual stroll to Bar Street — a long strip dotted with fancy restaurants and bars. With so many attractive places to choose from, the selection became an unexpected dilemma. Eventually, the Temple Bar’s decorative façade lured us three in.

Tony is quite possibly the biggest Khmer food connosieur I know. For the three dinners we shared together, we gave him full responsibility in ordering. He would customized every little dish and dip drenching sauces, and even went as far as “inventing” a dessert that was not in the restaurant menu! But after four mouth watering dishes washed with fine Italian red wine, we weren’t complaining; he does have good taste (no pun intended).

“Fusion music, especially when it is modern rap and traditional Khmer, bridges the gap between East and West,” he said.

Through a playful hybridization of the diverse elements of his two cultures, Battambang-born Ly, 26, is able to harness both the timeless appeal of traditional music, and the social power of modern rap.

“I hope to continue educating the younger generation about the beauty of Khmer traditional arts and culture,” Ly said. “And at the same time use rap to draw to the attention of a larger audience the contemporary issues facing Cambodians and Cambodian Americans.”

Ly’s recent return to Cambodia was motivated by a desire to explore more deeply the Khmer influences on his musical style.

“I want to understand why I love what I do - making music,” he said.

Ly has thrown himself into local artistic collaborations with the aim of participating in the pressing issues facing contemporary Cambodian musicians.

With the Tonle Bassac Project Ly uses video to explore the role and relevance of art among people faced with abject poverty.

Ly is documenting the innovative ways in which students and master musicians in the Tonle Bassac squatter communities are using the arts as a means of maintaining their own identity. In the face of increasing political and economic persecution, their struggle is proof of the power of music as a tool for social change.

“It may be a slum, but the streets are paved with gold,” he said. “The Bassac slum is rich because it is alive with art.”

Ly wants Cambodia’s ancient musical traditions kept alive for future generations. Consequently, he has spent much time working with Khmer master musicians such as Kung Nai.

“I grew up listening to musical master Kung Nai - he is my Khmer idol,” Ly said. “To work with him is a huge privilege.”

Ly’s recent work blends traditional melodies with contemporary social concerns: prostitution, poverty, corruption, trafficking, drugs, violence will all feature heavily in his next album.

“My forthcoming album Memoirs of the Invisible War, which is the final part of my Dalama trilogy, will have a darker tone compared to my previous work,” he said. “I am releasing it on the sixth day of the sixth month in the year 2006; the devil himself will be listening.”

DJ S’dey, 42, a veteran of Cambodia’s fledging hip-hop scene, is impressed by the breadth and depth of impact Ly has had on Cambodia’s older generation.

“He is the first person to rap about the Khmer Rouge - and people are really listening,” he said.

But Ly’s unique style has also earned him legions of younger fans, said Chim Vannak, 19, of LoveFM.

“Ly’s music is so different from what I am used to hearing from other local rappers,” Vannak said. “I actually get excited and share the songs with my friends. His live performance really blew me away.”

At the conclusion of his Cambodian visit, Ly said he had been impressed by the nascent Cambodian hip-hop scene.

Approximately 150 supporters - from enthusiastic students wearing flashy traditional Cambodian outfits to dignified master artists - gathered at the new three-story, mustard-yellow building tucked in a small alley off Sothearos Boulevard south of the National Assembly.

“Today marks a happy ending for our students and master musicians,” said Charley Todd, senior project adviser and co-president of the board of directors. He said that for months the group has been effectively homeless and struggling to find funding for a new center.

Since 2001, CLA has operated in cramped facilities used as classrooms for dance, theater and music rehearsals. The new place has four times the space of the old, and comes equipped with a resource center filled with books and computers and a state-of-the-art sound and video studio.

CLA’s manpower has grown as well. The non-profit group now employs six full-time staff, and has 40 musicians and 250 students who receive monthly stipends for school and supplies.

“I’m proud to be at the grand opening of CLA,” said Silong Chhun, 27, a visiting Khmer-American artist from Seattle and music producer of Long Beach-based Mujestic Records. “This is a symbol of progression and new hope for Cambodian arts.”

The initial two years of operation for the new center was secured through donors in Canada and England, but challenges loom in the distance. According to Todd, CLA hopes Art Street will become an arts community of residences, galleries and performance areas.

Surely enough, I found without breaking a sweat. As I walked inside, two Khmer ladies at the bar greets me with the signature warm Khmer smile.

“Suasdey,” said an attractive young girl in her early twenties.

“Baht, suasdey. I heard this place has wi-fi, is it true?” I asked in broken Khm-english.

We made several more exchanges and she led me to a high table.

Though a bar doesn’t fit my “ideal” working environment, I decided to try it out.

“I’ll have two scoops of vanilla ice cream with two cherries,” I ordered. I may be frugal, but no cheapskate.

An hour into my websurfing and e-mails, I noted the near extinct bar pick up customers. All were middle-aged Caucasian males.

I minded my business, concentrated on the work in front of me while enjoying my Sissamouth jams off my iPod.

About five were to the right of me toasting a cold one. Two of them had previously used their laptops for internet before joining the group at the bar counter.

I also observed a Caucasian male inside the bar counter serving drinks to his patrons. In retrospect, he’s likely the owner.

Anyways, I tuned out my surroundings.

Another hour has eclipsed. I am now working on my UN proposal using Word document program. My internet browser on KhmerConnection (www.khmer.cc).

Then and there, the man behind the counter sneaks from behind and taps me on the right shoulder. He said little, but diverted his finger to a little table sign that reads, “Free internet for e-mail and websurfing only.”

“Yes, I can read the sign,” I responded in a very mild-mannered, non-confrontational tone.

He went away.

About five minutes later, a male Khmer staff stands right next to me. I wanted to pretend that I don’t see him.

“Our free internet is not for chatting,” the nervous young man speaks in English.

“What chatting do you see on my screen?!?” I smartly shot back. Though a bit disgusted now, I was still pretty chilled.

Speechless, he left just as fast as he entered my circumference.

I wasn’t deterred to leave, the obvious objective from the Freebird staff. About 10 minutes later, they threw the last punch.

Their internet service mysteriously disconnects.

It was obvious that this was their final attempt to get me out. I was the only customer using a laptop at that hour. The only Khmer customer in the building among 10. I left the joint disgusted. Paid my $3.50 for drinks and dessert and left my business card on the table which read: “Thank you for the warm hospitality.”

Though I was bittered about my experience that afternoon, this post is no way an attempt to foul mouth Freebird Bar & Grill or to sour their reputation. Instead, I’d like to use this entry to open up a discussion about discrimination — in a place like Freebird — where its foreign catered. Many of Khmericans in Cambodia have shared many similar stories with other establishments.

But though his paintings may have become enduring symbols of the Cambodian people’s triumph over tyranny, Nath is himself growing increasingly fragile. He survived a year of living hell in S-21; today he fights another battle - his health.

“My health is in critical condition; I am experiencing kidney complications that prevent me from urinating - this can be fatal,” he explains. “I receive treatment [dialysis] twice a week - at first in Bangkok, but now at Calmette Hospital.”

A recent deterioration in his health has obliged Nath, 61, to return to Bangkok. Kidney failure - the loss of the kidneys’ ability to excrete waste - is potentially life threatening and requires intensive treatment. The cost of his dialysis is exorbitant - $100 for the first visit, $50 for the second. Every fourth visit he receives a blood transfusion, costing around $80. Each month, he spends around $600 to $650 on treatment.

Chey Sopheara, the director of Tuol Sleng Museum, who last saw Nath in mid February, explained how delicate the artist’s health is and urged the government to help with the cost of his healthcare.

“His colostomy damage is 100 percent,” he said. “He is a very important person - he is living evidence, a former victim of S-21 who can describe the truth about history. My idea [is that the government] should support him, should treat him.”

Despite his failing health, Nath remains dedicated to his work, which he considers a vocation rather than an occupation.

“Painting is not easy like taking the screws out of a car or disassembling a radio,” he said. “It requires a tremendous amount of time and discipline to foster this skill. One must understand art’s concepts and principles.”

For Nath, the concepts and principles of his discipline have been a tool that allowed him to examine his own and his society’s evolution. Now, as the KR trial draws closer, he argues that this legal process, by forcing those responsible to acknowledge their crimes, will help Cambodia move beyond this bloody chapter of its history.

“We have been waiting for almost 30 years for this,” he said. “I believe in the government. If there were no international trials, senior leaders of the Khmer Rouge would remain distanced from their responsibility for the crimes. They need to be held accountable instead of using the same rhetoric: ‘I only did what I was told from the top.’ I do not want to hear this. Instead, I want them to admit their responsibility for their actions. The trials would put final judgment on this.”

Nath was 33 in 1978 when he was sent to the Tuol Sleng prison, charged with offending the moral order of Angkar - the secret Khmer Rouge organization responsible for policing society’s morality.

Nath owes his life to his work. Quickly recognizing that he was a skilled painter, Duch - Chief Director of Tuol Sleng - set him to work painting propaganda portraits of Pol Pot.

When the regime fell in 1979 Nath was one of only seven survivors from S-21. He saw a list of names of all those who had entered the torture center, his name was on the list - but next to it Duch had written “Keep the painter.”

Nath’s family life was torn apart during the Khmer Rouge regime.

“I was married during the time of the Khmer Rouge and had two children,” he said. “Both perished. My wife and I were reunited when the KR fell. Currently, I have three children - two girls, one boy - and am still happily married with my wife, Kith Eng, after whom my restaurant is named.”

Nath received formal artistic training before his incarceration, and was working as a painter at the time of his arrest.

“I painted because it was my profession - a profession that supported me” he said. “Since childhood, I disciplined myself because I wanted to excel. When I reached my goals, the war happened, which halted my ambitions and I could not continue my profession.”

His approach to painting was transformed by his experiences under the Khmer Rouge and his unique method has since proved an inspiration for modern Cambodian artists.

Sopheap Pich, a contemporary painter and co-founder of Saklapel, an organization dedicated to fostering contemporary visual art creation, says the strength of Nath’s work lies in the way he uses personal memory to paint a collective story.

“He had formal training,” Pich said. “But at the same time he was also not a very formal narrative painter, a historical painter. I felt that the paintings that he did were very strong - there are no photos of those things he painted. I didn’t think of it in terms of high art or low art or self-taught. I respect that [his work is] journalistic in a sense - making up the story as you go along.”

Nath’s technical skills have taught a younger generation of artists valuable lessons.

“He does not shy away from color,” Pich said. “He is not out to show people how to paint, but his influence is unmistakeable.”

But it is the unique way Nath has worked his life experiences into his artistic creations that has proved most inspiring.

“He has an affinity to imagination, not just photographic memory,” Pich said. “I think he is the greatest Cambodian painter [who says] ‘Look at your life and understand your life - learn enough skill to facilitate expression of that life’.”

Despite the admiration he inspires, Nath is modest about his legacy.

secondly, work will be picking up at the post as i’ve been incognito for 3 straight issues. poli-tricks has been dominating frontpages of local press, and as the “voice of pop culture”, articles related to a & e has been sifted from the headlines. rest assure my fellow readers, i will re-emerge!

i won’t get into details (just yet), but many of my dear friends are full aware about my real motive for the seattle visitation. this month will see a closer step to finalizing a 3-year contract. i’ll go pubilc when its *official*.