HONG KONG, China – My recent interview with Aki Ra, a Cambodian dedicated to landmine removal after being forced as a child by Khmer Rouge to plant mines, reminded me of my own close brush with unexploded ordnance.

A Cambodian woman walks past a landmine awareness sign near the Thai border in July 2007.

I was on a reporting assignment in former Khmer Rouge turf in northern Cambodia.

After hours riding on a bumpy road, nature called. We were in an area that had just reportedly been cleared of landmines and the government was resettling military families there.

Some villagers came out to greet us. We asked for a bathroom but there was none. Instead, they pointed to a path that still had a sign warning about the presence of landmines. You can never be sure if the mines are all gone, they said, so just stay on the path and find a spot along the way.

There were no trees and I juggled modesty with safety as I hesitatingly inched down the path. I turned back a few times and saw the dozen or so villagers standing on the road, watching my progress.

I finally got my business done and briskly returned along the path to our car.

But I have never forgotten that moment. It made me think of the risks that Cambodians, and others living in such heavily-mined countries - Iraq, Colombia, Afghanistan - take everyday to go about their daily lives: Tilling a field to cultivate crops, walking to school, rounding up the family's livestock or even finding a spot for a community outhouse.

As a reporter for an international news agency in the country for more than two years, I encountered many Cambodians - old and young - whose futures in one of the world's poorest countries were literally hobbled by these weapons of war.

They all made do with their challenging situations in a country where physical fitness is part of daily survival, since many Cambodians are doing some type of farming or fishing to put food on the table.

Meeting Aki Ra, who has now started his own non-profit group to rid the country of mines, reminded me how much this sad legacy of decades of conflict will continue to linger on for Cambodians until the last mine is cleared. Read the article on Aki Ra

TOKYO, Japan — Shoichi Nakagawa burst onto the global stage in an embarrassing, and memorable way. He appeared to be drunk at the G7 news conference in Rome, Italy, falling asleep as reporters questioned the world leaders. He apologized for his behavior, but denied it was the result of heavy drinking.

A man delivers flowers to Nakagawa’s home.

But that behavior led to his resignation as finance minister and multiple jokes told through Japan, including a downloadable mobile phone game where players win by keeping the apparently drunk finance minister awake.

That may have been a shocking event to world viewers, but in Japan, what followed in the election was far more stunning. Nakagawa lost in the August 30 general election, marking the collapse of what had been dubbed the “Nakagawa Kingdom.” That name came from the strong electoral power base built by his father. Supporters cried in Nakagawa’s arms on election night and pledged to fight in the next election. Nakagawa appeared calm and respectful.

But privately, former Chief Cabinet Secretary Takeo Kawamura surmised the loss was far more shocking. Kawamura, to reporters in Tokyo, said Nakagawa may have been both physically and mentally exhausted due to the shock of losing in the election.

Police have no ruling yet on the cause of Nakagawa’s death. But at age 56, he is one year younger than his father was when he died. Nakagawa himself entered politics after his father’s death, which was ruled a suicide.

As word spread through Tokyo, old political friends lined up outside Nakagawa’s home to mark the sad passing. To them, Nakagawa still had a future with domestic politics, but both that and his life were cut short before their time.

SOLANA MUNICIPALITY, Philippines — The villagers in the northern Philippines have lived with typhoons their whole lives, but many of them told me they weren't prepared for a storm the size of Typhoon Parma.

A farmer crosses a flooded rice paddy on the outskirts of Manila.

I am in a village in Solana, a municipality of Cagayan Province, where Parma made landfall.

We have been driving through some of the low-lying areas. On our way here, we passed downed power lines and tree branches strewn on the roads. Military personnel and local volunteers are working overtime to clear the debris. While we were filming some of the damage, a farmer walked over to tell me that the flooding got so severe that the waters rose as high as his head.

The village I am in now is a community of farmers.  Some of the rooftops on the homes here were blown off by the winds. The power was knocked out. One man told me he was terrified when the storm set in because he could hear his house rattling and the rains pelting his metal roof. The waters on some of the roads come up to our knees.

The villagers told me flooding is normal during typhoon season so many of them build a second floor on their homes. One family of rice farmers was kind enough to show me around their house. All their belongings were elevated, piled on tables, cabinets and shelves. The water was about a foot deep. This is the first time, the family told me, that the water flowed into the house. The ceiling is stained with water marks, Parma's permanent imprint on their home.

The family's home has a second floor but it failed to provide the usual shelter to the storm. The sound of Parma was so frightening, they said, that the six family members chose to huddle on small beds on the ground floor despite the rising waters. They feared the severe winds would blow off their roof, leaving them exposed to Parma's fury. They didn't have time to evacuate.

The winds and rains are gone now as Parma heads away from here. The farmers say the waters will likely take about a week to recede, and they worry about the damage to their crops. The rice plants are likely destroyed, Pinky Rhose Jesalva, a university student told me. Her family owns a tract of land nearby.

Other farmer families have laid out corn kernels alongside the road in hopes that the fermenting seeds will dry out. The Agricultural Department estimates the cost of damage from the two typhoons, Parma and Ketsana, will amount to about 120 million U.S. dollars, mainly because of devastated rice crops.

But the farmers have not given up hope. They are walking on the corn, turning the kernels over with their bare feet, in the hopes of salvaging more of their harvests.

PADANG, Indonesia - The last 48 hours have been bewildering. A series of natural disasters across the Asia Pacific has left us scrambling to cover diverse disasters.

CNN's cameraman Mark Phillips, producer Andy Saputra and survivor John Lee chat in a hospital.

First Tropical Storm Ketsana left Manila 80 percent underwater. So we did our best to get there as soon as possible. But almost no sooner had we arrived than an earthquake and tsunami hit the remote Pacific islands of Samoa and American Samoa.

Frantic calls to various travel agents followed. “How do we get there? Via Seoul?? 35 hours???! You’ve got to be kidding.”

As we were making plans, Ketsana smashed into Vietnam. As other CNN crews were dispatched from Indonesia to Vietnam, suddenly news of another huge earthquake in Sumatra.

It meant we had a logistical nightmare to get to all of our equipment across the other side of the region in double quick time.

A flight through Singapore, Jakarta (endless delayed flights) and finally Padang got us to the heart of the latest crisis.

As our plane glided in over the city I could see the ribbons of light along the roads, but in between, there was dark emptiness. The entire city was blacked-out. Only a few buildings had backup generators. It made live television broadcasts very, very tricky. We had our own portable generator but could bring gasoline on a plane, and now the queue for fuel was two to three hours at the local gas station.

We managed to get a few live shots in the bag before finally our batteries died. Then like the residents of Padang, we too were feeling our way through the night. We found a half-built hotel, which had been slightly damaged. The owner was reluctant to let us stay inside because of the risk of aftershocks, ¬so we instead caught a couple of hours sleep in his bus in the parking lot.

Daylight enabled us to get a much better view of the damage. It’s bizarrely random, as it always seems to be in earthquakes. Some buildings are standing intact, others folded in on themselves.

There is one incident that will stick in my mind forever. It was the incredible story of John Lee. The 55-year-old Singaporean coal trader had been in Padang on business when suddenly his meeting was plunged into darkness, as the quake ”exploded” around him, and before he could react, the building collapsed.

CNN cameraman Mark Phillips spotted some Indonesian rescuers trying to free him, but it seemed like a hopeless effort. They were using a hammer and chisel to try and tunnel through tons of concrete, but Mark spent hours talking to John through the rubble and trying to reassure him that he’d be alright. Watch Phillips talk with Lee, as he's trapped beneath rubble.

Mark left the scene to find out if there was more that could be done but then heard later that John had been freed from his prison of mangled wreckage. On a whim, at one in the morning, we decided to go up to the hospital to see if John was OK. And as we walked into the lobby, there he was, on a stretcher, conscious, awake and smiling.

Finally Mark got to see the man he’d presumed would surely die, and John put a face to the voice who’d given him hope when his situation seemed utterly hopeless.

Amid all this destruction, tragedy and chaos a story of survival and courage that made the last 48 hours seem thoroughly worthwhile.

MANILA, Philippines — It was the speed of the flooding that left so many shocked in Manila. Many knew that a tropical storm was on its way, but few were prepared for the sudden swirling water that rose up from drains, sewers and rivers choking the streets with brown, filthy water.

A boy wades through the waters in Marietta Romeo, a middle-class neighborhood in eastern Manila.

People say it came up so quickly before they realized what was happening - their cars were underwater, then the ground floor of their houses.

Many panicked and ran upstairs, but the water followed until they had no option but to climb onto the roof.

Some stayed there for days getting hungrier and thirstier.

A man sits among the debris left after floods rushed through Marietta Romeo.

This perhaps explains some of the anger that is gradually being directed at the government.

President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo has been the focus for much of the criticism, but she has so far not held a news conference or given an interview.

Instead, she has issued statements and sound-bites, perhaps mindful of the awkward questions that would be asked about the apparent lack of government planning or preparedness.

Her anointed successor, Defense Minister Gilberto Teodoro, has been the face of the government during this disaster, and the government is now scrambling to show it is on top of the aftermath.

The Presidential Palace was partially opened to allow volunteers to pack supplies for affected areas and some food was handed out to those lucky enough to hear about the aid distribution.

But by the time we arrived, hundreds were waiting outside with a growing sense of disappointment, as they realized they had gotten there too late. In reality, the use of a couple of rooms in the museum of the Presidential Palace was nothing more than an attempt to give local TV stations something to film.

With some 2 million people affected by the flooding, it will take more than biscuits and potato chips to get a grip on the storm and flood aftermath.

International Aid agencies are now here in force, concentrating on water and health issues. Power is still out in many neighborhoods, adding to the misery. Throw into this chaotic mix another stack of tropical storms lurking menacingly out in the Pacific – and this might not be over just yet.

TOKYO, Japan - Miyuki Hatoyama is unlike any first lady to hit Japan: A divorcee, a former actress, and an outspoken woman who demands equality from her husband.

Local media call the soon-to-be premier 'the alien,' but it’s his wife who is making out of this world comments.

It’s the “outspoken” part that is generating some unusual press for the soon-to-be Prime Minister of Japan.

In a book called “Very Strange Things I’ve Encountered," Hatoyama indeed writes a very strange thing.

“While my body was asleep, I think my soul rode on a triangular-shaped UFO and went to Venus. It was a very beautiful place, and it was very green.”

In an interview on a Japanese talk show, Hatoyama makes another unearthly claim, saying she “eats” the sun.

“Like this, like this,” she said, gesturing as if eating something from the sky. “It makes me feel good and my husband does it too.”

Hatoyama also claims that she knew actor Tom Cruise. Not in this life, but in a prior life.

“I know Tom Cruise was Japanese in a previous life. I know that I was with him in the previous life. So, when I meet him and say, ‘Long time no see,’ he will understand what I mean. Isn’t it cool?”

These comments might be brushed off as an eccentric ex-actor’s musings if she didn’t have the ear of the most powerful man in the world’s second largest economy.

The DPJ, led by Yukio Hatoyama, pledges to shake up Japan’s politics, from economics to international relations.

Japan, for now, appears more amused than alarmed. While the Western press rants on about the odd ramblings of Mrs. Hatoyama, the Japanese press is brushing off the comments as peculiar but harmless.

Comments in YouTube under the clips from the Japanese talk show were divided, between people writing Mrs. Hatoyama was “crazy” to “who cares?”

Ex-Ministry of Foreign Affairs official Tomohiko Taniguichi calls the first lady “fun for now.”

“It’s actually helping her husband’s popularity,” says Taniguichi. “Whether a first lady who believes in UFOs affects world policies - we just have to wait and see.”

What do you make of Mrs. Hatoyama's comments?

THAILAND-MYANMAR BORDER - The Shan State Army has been fighting for more than 50 years. Their battle, both victories and losses, no longer make the news.

Their struggle against the hard-line military dictatorship of Myanmar is committed,­ but the border of Thailand and Myanmar is hardly a strategically significant area for the West. So the long, guerrilla conflict continues out of the spotlight of the world.

Shan State Army warlord Colonel Yawd Serk.

Every day men, women and children are forced from their homes by the fighting. The SSA claims 10,000 have been displaced in recent months.

When I got a call from the assistant to their commander, on a crackling phone from the distant jungles of Myanmar, it was clear they had a message that they wanted to get out.

We traveled to a remote and secret rendezvous promising not to reveal where Colonel Yawd Serk was planning to brief us.

I wasn't sure what to expect,­ but we found a slightly comical scene at the end of a rough dirt track in the middle of the steaming, lush jungle. The warlord of the Shan State Army was waiting patiently besides two dirty white plastic chairs with a presentation of photos and information carefully displayed on pieces of cardboard, nailed to two teak trees.

He was quiet, patient and exuding a polite, earnest concern for his people and their untold plight. But what he told me was anything but amusing.

He spoke about raped women, destroyed villages, massacres, forced labor and summary executions. A litany of abuse that has gone on for decades without the kind of moral indignation that features in other trouble spots around the world.

It¹s perhaps partly because the SSA and the other ethnic groups that make up the patchwork of fiefdoms along the Thai-Myanmar border have in the past funded their armies through drug production. In the 1970s and 80s, the golden triangle was an infamous opium production centre.

Now the SSA tells me it's turned its back on drug production, even giving us footage of its soldiers ambushing drug dealers and raiding methamphetamine factories.

It wants to focus world attention on the ethnic cleansing it claims is going on every day. Yawd Serk says next year's planned elections in Myanmar are meaningless, a crude attempt by the junta to improve their image and reduce the considerable international pressure on the regime.

The resounding message from my half hour chat with this softly spoken warlord was simple: our fight goes on, irrespective of elections.

I left him as I found him ­ a camouflaged figure, who's devoted his life to a war that few know about, that could easily be waged for another 50 years far from the gaze of the world's media.

We shook hands and he disappeared back to the jungles where he's fought for most of his life.

DALLAS, Texas - You don't go out golfing with the guys without a fair amount of trash talk about each other's bad shots. Even the golfer who just pulled off the impossible doesn't get a fair pass today.

"Ouch," says one of Y.E. Yang's buddies, holding up his fingers an inch apart, as Yang missed a putt on the 12th. Yang flashes him a sideways grin, as if to say he'll get him back on the 13th. Yang is playing with his buddies before our interview, squeezing in time with friends before the media interviews today. We drove up in surprise to see Yang playing, and to our greater surprise, he welcomed us to follow him around.

"Make my friends nervous," he joked to me.

You'd never know by watching these guys joke that YE Yang has just pulled off a historic, and life changing, win last week.

Ranked 110th in the world, Yang faced off with Tiger Woods in the final round of the PGA Championship. The number one-ranked Woods had never lost when entering the final round as the leader, until Yang beat him in one of the sport's greatest upsets, pulling off a feat no other golfer in the world has ever done.

"It will bring peace to the Koreas," joked one of his buddies. Maybe not, but that win catapulted the 37 year old to stratospheric heights of hero-worship in South Korea and across Asia. Yang's victory at the PGA made him the world's first player from Asia to win a major championship, putting a more global face on a sport dominated by Europeans and Americans. Since that win, the relatively unknown golf player has been thrust onto the global stage, chased by international media (we literally chased him onto the golf course today). He even got a personal call from South Korea's president.

Not bad for a kid from a farming family of 8, who couldn't afford to step on a golf course growing up. Yang didn't have the silver spoon background that many golfers have. He taught himself to play at age 19, old by golf standards, hitting balls after-hours at the driving range where he worked. He learned how to grip a club and swing, he tells me, from instructional videos by Jack Nicklaus. Yang never dreamed he'd ever face off with the great Tiger Woods, whom he'd watched on TV for years.

"I woke up that morning and didn't expect to win," Yang said, talking about the final round of the PGA Championship. "So I had this calm in my heart."

That calm helped Yang not crack in the final round, as thousands of spectators watched on the green and millions around the world. But what was notable on that day was how Yang appeared playful, even waving to the live TV camera, as he walked on the fairway of the 15th hole.

"We all saw him smiling throughout the back nine, having fun." said Brian Mogg, Yang's swing coach. "That's the kind of guy he is at all times and it was cool to watch his personality come out, under the heat of playing with Tiger. He's been in some ways, maybe fortunate not to have the spoiled upbringing that many golfers have had and he's been able to have the perspective of, it's a game."

Watching Yang play with his friends on this Dallas, Texas golf course, you can see that love of the game is obvious. Yang later tells me that he hopes to never face off with Tiger again, because he's not sure he'd win again. You get the sense that while wins at the PGA level are important, this game with friends is just as important - and at the heart of why Yang managed to accomplish what no other golfer in the world could.

SEOUL, South Korea– You have to give the late South Korean President Kim Dae-jung credit. Even in death, he seems to be trying to get South and North Korea to become friends.

Honor guard soldiers carry the coffin of Kim Dae-jung for burial during his state funeral on August 23 in Seoul.

For the first time since the current conservative President Lee Myung-Bak took office, the North Koreans sent a high-level delegation to mourn the late Kim.

Before the trip, the North would only contact the late President’s aides. But while in Seoul, the delegation reportedly asked to meet with South Koreans and ultimately the president.

For Seoul’s part, there was a definite chilly reaction to the North’s announcement that it would send a delegation to Seoul.

And the South Korean news agency Yonhap says when the Northern visitors wanted to meet the president there were some in the government that thought it was inappropriate.

But in the end, the delegation got their meeting, and the South Korean spokesman says they conveyed a message from the North Korean leader Kim Jong-Il.

The details of that message were not made public. But when asked at the airport how their stay in the South went, the head of the North Korean delegation was quoted as saying, “We are heading back in the positive mood.”

The South Korean spokesman said President Lee conveyed a message of his own to the delegation: that South Korea’s position is still firm and that he hopes for sincere dialogue in the future.

Now, will this be the catalyst for improved relations between the two Koreas? It’s hard to predict. But one thing for sure, if they do, someone up there will be cheering on the sidelines.

SUNGI SIPUT, Malaysia - We spent the day with Kartika Shukarno, a 32-year-old mother of two who will become the first woman in Malaysia to be caned under Islamic law. She is a small, fragile woman with a soft, gentle voice who carries guilt, regret and shame heavily on her shoulders. She's also a loving mother who cares for her two children who live each day with their own problems. Her 7-year-old son Mohammed has cerebral palsy and slight autism. Her 5-year-old daughter Wann was born with a hole in her heart and has undergone surgery many times.

Kartika was caught drinking three glasses of beer in a Malaysian hotel in December of 2007. It was the second time she had ever drunk alcohol. She said she wanted to try it. She was there with her non-Muslim friends. They weren't disturbing others, she wasn't making noise or causing any damage, Kartika said. Religious authorities in Kuantan in the state of Pahang surrounded the hotel and asked her to take a urine test. She was arrested after they discovered alcohol in her system.

Malaysia is a predominantly Muslim state; 60 percent of the population is Muslim and under Shariah law it is illegal for Muslims to drink alcohol. In the past, Muslims who were caught drinking alcohol were either fined or simply given a warning. But recently there has been a religious and political push within Malaysia to have Shariah law extended across the country.

For more than 18 months, Kartika has fought this case in the courts - she pleaded guilty and asked for a lenient sentence because she's a first-time offender. Kartika says she has decided not to appeal the sentence because she is tired of the ongoing saga and has decided to accept her punishment.

Her greatest regret is the shame she feels she has brought to her family. They're all extremely close. Her sisters and brothers and all the children and cousins gather at Kartika's father's house to share their last meal together for a while. They're not angry with her, nor are they ashamed. They love this woman who feels sorry for what she's done and has repented. They come together after fasting all day to eat and say prayers to celebrate the end of the second day of Ramadan. They share their meal with my crew - hospitality and warmth that you only ever experience among people where there is genuine love and respect.

Kartika's father, Shukarno Abdul Muttalib, will have to hand his daughter over to authorities when they arrive on Monday. Something I know he will struggle with. He wanted her to appeal her sentence. She will then be driven 250 kilometers (155 miles) to a prison on the outskirts of Kuala Lumpur. She understands she will receive six lashes on her buttocks, fully clothed. Moderate force will be used by the "whipper" armed with a bamboo cane. She says the pain she will experience doesn't compare to the pain she has already caused her family.