BEIJING - I have tried to access some “sensitive” Web sites—such as the Chinese Web pages of BBC, VOA, Amnesty International, and of course Radio Free Asia (RFA)—during the past few days, but have had no success.
BEIJING—I have to pay 12 yuan for my pork dumpling and soy-milk breakfast in a small restaurant this morning. Customers grumble that prices have gone up too fast.
BEIJING - It is sunny when my plane touches down at the new Beijing Airport, but the sky is blanketed with grey smog. The Beijing government has been trying very hard to at least temporarily clean the environment. The result is not obvious.
In An county, Sichuan province, our reporter meets anger and frustration. Left to fend for themselves, villagers curse the government.
Lin Di goes to Beichuan Qiang in Sichuan and meets an earthquake survivor rushing back to search for her father.
Reporter Lin Di drove 160 kms north of Chengdu to the mountainous region of Jiangyou and Pingwu on the Fujiang river. He saw schools flattened, with blood-stained drawings on the few walls still standing.
Burma's cyclone Nargis has exposed a secretive society in which the junta and its supporters enjoy privileges far removed from the lives of ordinary Burmese. Tyler Chapman visited central Maymyo, home to many of the country's elite and now a vital part of Burma's military-industrial complex.
Monks play a pivotal role in Burma, and never more so than in times of crisis. In his reporter's diary, veteran journalist Tyler Chapman describes what he observed of this unique relationship between monks and lay citizens when he attended the Ananda Festival in Bagan this year.
Guided tours to Tibet are nothing new. But in 1988, Dan Southerland recalls, a foreign correspondent could still break away from his handlers and do real reporting. It might not be so easy today.
Tyler Chapman spent a week among Burmese refugees and exiles in Thailand in February. He found that few, if any, have found happiness in their flight from the oppression back home.
During a month-long trip to Burma, Tyler Chapman saw how China has extended its grip on Burma’s economy to the point where the Burmese people are fed up.
In the cities and countryside of Burma, Tyler Chapman encountered heart-wrenching scenes of poverty every day of his visit in January and February, 2008.
Dith Pran, the hero of "The Killing Fields," was an interpreter and “fixer” in 1970. It was the first year of the war in Cambodia, a time when many Cambodians truly believed that they could defeat the Vietnamese Communists. At that time, the Khmer Rouge were just emerging as a military force that would ultimately conquer the country and send Dith Pran to a labor camp.
In Sittwe, a port city located on the bay of Bengal, Tyler Chapman met with monks and ordinary citizens who openly expressed their frustration with their government. The ruthless repression of a monks' uprising last fall is not silencing them.
Two decades ago, reporters could still play cops and robbers with the Chinese police in Lhasa—a far cry from today’s highly controlled environment.
Kate Webb, who died of cancer in 2007, arrived in Saigon in 1967 without a job and with only a few hundred dollars in her pocket. She went on to cover some of the biggest stories in Asia.
On April 17, 1975, the Khmer Rouge captured Phnom Penh, starting a four-year reign of terror in Cambodia. RFA’s chief editor Dan Southerland visits battlefields he covered as a war correspondent from 1970-75. In these blogs, Southerland reports how many older Cambodians are trying to forget the Khmer Rouge trauma, while younger Cambodians know little of their own history.
Interviewing refugees can be tricky business. They sometimes tell you what they think you want to hear. Some exaggerate in order to gain sympathy.
The brother of one of the world’s most notorious mass murderers is sleeping peacefully in his hammock.
In the later stages of the war in Cambodia, refugees began to describe the widespread killing of civilians in areas under Khmer Rouge control.
Nothing looks familiar to me except the empty highway stretching straight ahead toward Vietnam. But I can still make out the place where my two colleagues disappeared, never to be seen again
"I find few scars of war and conflict here that might remind them of what happened when the Khmer Rouge took over the country and killed more than 1 million—some say as many as 2 million—of Cambodia’s people."
By the time Matt and I reach Ben Tre city on provincial roads, it's late afternoon. We have time to visit a park honoring "heroic women of the revolution" and take pictures of local people enjoying a stroll.
I had been in and out of the Mekong Delta cities of My Tho and Ben Tre several times during the Vietnam War. But my most disturbing experiences there followed Viet Cong attacks on the two cities in the pre-dawn hours of Jan. 31, 1968.
Rule number one for foreign correspondents: If you want to know what's going on, get out of the cities.
On April 28, I meet with a man who was one of the top Viet Cong spies during the Vietnam war. had known Pham Xuan An when he worked as a Time magazine correspondent.
Before leaving for Vietnam, I had proposed an idea to a colleague. I’d never paid any formal respect to the Vietnamese soldiers who’d lost their lives, either on the U.S.-backed South Vietnamese side or on the Communist side.
As Matt and I start talking with people around the city, my rudimentary knowledge of the Vietnamese language begins to revive. A small phrase book helps me out.
"My son Matt and I decide it's pointless to continue to trudge on foot under a blazing sun if we want to get a feel for the sprawling city. We opt for taxis and, on one or two occasions, the backseats of motorbikes..."
"First the heat hits you - nearly 98 degrees Fahrenheit at midday. The airport concrete blasts back at you like a furnace. After more than two decades' absence, I'd forgotten how hot it can get in Saigon. Then the traffic assails you. Hundreds of Vietnamese on motorbikes moving in seemingly chaotic and opposing streams..."