Bike Ride to Banteay Torp

It would seem that some awesome ancient civilizations liked the area that I now live in… Between Banteay Chhmar, which I’ve written about, about 16 km from my home, the little temple ruins in my own town (complete with Hindu elephant) and this other temple, Banteay Torp, about 13 km from my home, there is a lot to see. They are trying to rebuild part of Banteay Chhmar and turn it into a UNESCO World Heritage Site, therefore putting it on the heavily toured areas of Cambodia, granted they will need to fix the road first. But Banteay Torp is pretty cool as well, and far more remote.

So I started out in the morning for a nice bike ride up to this temple. I was determined to find it. I rode north, on the road of hell (this isn’t an exaggeration… and you need to experience it to believe me) for about 10 km before I saw the typical gateway proclaiming a temple to the right. I turned and kept going for another 2-3 km, finding a pagoda, a primary school, a massive lake, and very interested rice farmers as I went on. I barely saw the turn off for the temple because it is old and well disguised at the base of a hill, but I turned, and rode a bit more, and all of a sudden I saw this pile of rocks rise up out of nowhere.

It was incredible – a silent temple, somewhat destroyed like Banteay Chhmar and much smaller, yet still structurally intact. There are still carvings intact, and the different colored stones shimmer in the sun. I climbed around the 4 different towers and even got followed by some young boys investigating the foreigner.

Amazing. And I must say, the people there were great. I got hellos from a group of women transplanting rice and went down to greet them - very lovely farming folk! What was less amazing was when I got a flat tire in the middle of the ride back to the main road. The roads down to the temple and back from it were a little bumpy and steep, so I can’t say I’m that surprised, but it was mighty inconvenient. But, I went to the nearest repair shop where I paid a whopping 25 cents to get my tire fixed before I went on home to have pineapple stir fry with my grandma.

This is eventful to me!

It is a normal Thursday, to be sure: A completely average school day which should have lasted until 11 but quit around 9:30 due to the absence of teachers, or rather, their absence from the classroom in light of other more exciting activities on school grounds. I gave some oral exams, had some kids ogle over pictures of the Midwest that I brought (they think that the downtown river area of Omaha and the view from the Knoxville exit on the way to my grandmas are particularly beautiful, and they love the picture of my on the bridge of the big cement block known as my college theatre. They think that the picture I have of Sarah and Grant’s wedding is me in disguise and the concept of slides and playground equipment is more than foreign. And even though they have never heard of baseball, the Orioles stadium is very pretty – note said photos in this blog). This is fairly common – Khmer people Love pictures with a capital L, both when it is people that they know and when it is people that they don’t. It was uncommon, though, to watch 4 full grown Khmer men, teachers, plaster tiny circle stickers with pictures of butterflies and ladybugs and flowers all over their cell phones. This just reinforces the ideas in my head that there is a different kind of ‘masculinity’ here.

And so I left school thinking about that kind of masculinity… not that I got very far… even though the boys here spend more time on their hair in one morning than I spend on my entire beauty (I use this word with caution) regime for a week, the older ones still want nothing to do with advice from a younger woman and my sister is suffering the same sort of crazy boy syndrome that seems to follow me in my relationships as well. We even ranted together at the lunch table and my sister professed her anger (an extraordinary event, for Khmer women to talk about their feelings and gossip and ask for advice…I actually gave the same advice that my buddy Deidre gave me last week in our ongoing discussions of the opposite sex).

And again, in my normally quiet time, after I played with a very chubby and happy baby at the local coffee house and sat back to enjoy my coffee with ice and condensed milk and the last few chapters of a hilarious Sedaris novel, I encountered not one, but two separate occasions of begging. Now, let me elaborate. Begging is not uncommon…in the city. I fully expect to be propositioned when I am in the middle of the market enjoying a bowl of noodles, or when I walk the streets of Phnom Penh, or traverse some of the more touristy areas of the country. But in my own town?? It is unheard of, so twice in one day is quite a record! No that they weren’t funny… the first was a small boy who obviously saw dollar signs on my white skin and stopped on his way back from the market to just see what would happen. And the second was a middle aged man who was holding more in his hand than I had on my person. In fact, since I just came over for a coffee, I only had 50 cents, and when he showed me the example of what he wanted (cash, just to clear that up), there was considerably more than I even had in cash anywhere. I told him this, in Khmer, and that I had nothing else, and he refused to listen and badmouthed foreigners for a few minutes before stumbling out.

I think I mentioned in my last blog that it is rainy season. Today I found that it is sneaky, considering I left my house one minute, on a quest for snacks and noodles, and ended up in a torrential downpour that drove me into my cousins house for a solid 10 minutes and ruined the previously dry road with slippery mud that made me slide about and forced me to remove my shoes else they be sacrificed, stuck forever in the wet dirt. The rain turned my pleasant jaunt to and from the market into a challenging obstacle course complete with rivers, footprints that may be wider than they are long (quite a feat for me, as those of you who have gone shoe shopping with me can understand), and, as usual, the occasional pile of manure. I also had a follower, a young cousin whose hair is just the same as mine and who talks to me in the simple child’s vocabulary that I can understand. Seyma escorted me to the market and back on her tiny bike and talked about her brother and baby sister and the mud and the rain. It was lovely and abnormal – even though they are no longer afraid of me, the children who know me are still a little hesitant about how cool I am… I’m trying to work on that, not always an easy feat when you were once the boogeyman.

I suppose I should mention that one other extraordinary event is that I have actually kept myself busy all day long – between stickers and coffee and ranting and market time and children and blogging and preparing for the rain, well… it’s been nice. Oh… and there was that whole daddy-long-legs-demolishing-a-fly-in-the-bathroom incident… that was pretty cool too.

Fun Photos - 6-4-09

I decided to go biking after a particularly rainy day, my gears got stuck with mud and I got a little more than dirty… In addition to what you can see here, there were splatters of mud up my back, all over the front of my shorts and shirt, smears of it on my arms, and flakes of it on my face and in my hair. When I met up with a crew of my students in another village, they spent a good 10 minutes telling me how messy I was, another 5 cleaning up my brakes which were still a bit clogged, and probably a good hour after I left laughing at me and the pieces of mud that had found their way onto every surface of my body. I did get my bike washed the next day, granted it has rained and is now dirty once again.

Oftentimes, because one teacher teaches as many students want private class as they have (it’s a main source of income for said teachers, so the more the merrier), some students end up looking in through the window after the room holds more desks than it ever has and those desks are packed with students 3 or 4 to a bench. I’m not sure I’ve ever mentioned it, but there really is no personal space bubble here. I see the boys leaping onto one another and cuddling on the benches throughout the day, and girls hold hands and link arms when they walk, sometimes hugging when I make them nervous by saying hello, and they stack up to make room for me when I go to breakfast in the morning, even after I tell them not to worry – its just the culture. Anyway, after they are packed in, the rest look from the windows… and here is a photo of that.

So, last week I taught the ‘funeral’ unit for the grade 12 class, and because my co-teacher was kind enough to leave me in the middle of first period for some work with the VSOs at the hospital (Voluntary Service Overseas… the Peace Corps of the rest of the world, HQed in the UK). I love my fellow VSOs, they are awesome and do fantastic work. I am, however less excited that this particular teacher gets paid a salary to work one day a week if in fact he does actually work that day. That is beside the point. Since I only see these students one day a week and their English isn’t incredible (because they don’t have regular instruction…), I decided to do a comparison of Khmer funerals and American funerals, at least what I could remember. I haven’t been to many funerals at home and I have forgotten a lot about what happens – After a year of living abroad, I am somewhat surprised to find out how much has slipped from my mind about my own culture. This is the board after that class…between the morbid (and useless) vocabulary, and the ideas that were inches away from slipping out of my students’ grasp (the graveyard, and what to do when it gets full; the potluck dinner, and the idea that others would bring food to a gathering; the color black, and why it should be worn to a religious event; communal singing; burial; and funeral homes), it was a pretty fun day.

Dreams

So with the each month’s full moon, I’ve found that my normally dreamless sleep gets a little clouded with images of all the people and things in my life. Most recently, actually, I’ve had an odd triad of dreams that are just plain odd, mainly because they aren’t as odd as dreams usually are.

One. As part of my summer plans, I have an honors class of 10 students, and I just gave the test today to decide which 10 out of the 30-some interested students would be able to study. The class was my friend and fellow PCV Deidre’s idea for her school, and it sounded so awesome that I wanted to do it myself. So… my dream was all about her exam and my trying to guess what she had on it. I don’t understand why, given my own exam was just fine but…

Two. One of my first months here, I put all four seasons of The Office on my computer, courtesy of my friend Bob’s ipod and Davey’s computer skills. I have watched these Office seasons more than I think appropriate and have officially become an addict. Well, the 5th season recently had its finale, and a few of the PCVs were talking about buying it, which brings me to my dream. I dreamt that I was going to buy season 5 of the Office next week when I was in Phnom Penh, with Bob, and was ecstatically happy. Bob and I are both anxious to see if the copyright laws are cool enough here to allow us to have access to that…

Three. This one is my favorite. It’s a little fuzzy, but it was something like me in an airport, with my cousin Katie, going somewhere not in the US… but I was entering the airport and planning on going ahead with her, just on the way. Except, I had no plane ticket for my next destination and my mother, who was with me for some reason, was very upset with me. Something about me being irresponsible and not preparing for things. She was upset in the dream… upset enough that I woke up and reconsidered any sort of request for a long amount of time… At least my grandma was there too!

A Lot of Mud and a Tiger

Well, its official: rainy season has begun. Which means, of course, that the road from my house to anywhere that I would need to be (the city, the school, the market, the coffeehouse) is completely horrendous. There is a giant never-ending puddle that I have to cross on the way to school, which means that my shoes and my feet and the bottom of my teaching skirt are always filthy and that I haven’t seen the silver in my bike for ages.

On the other hand, I am happy to say that I finally made it to the chapter that I taught in practicum: Folk Tales. For this chapter, there are three equally entertaining sections: The Tiger and the Monk, about a monk who heals a tiger, who in turn gets angry and tries to kill the monk; Who Stole the Baby, about a woman who stole a baby off of the riverbank and tried to sell her until the King intervened with his infinite wisdom; and, The Magic Bird, about a man who finds a bird who talks and lays golden eggs until his gossiping wife gets greedy and kills the bird to try to find the big egg store.

It’s a very Cambodian chapter… but one with lots of things to do – I told the first story with little pictures of the monk, tiger, and other characters, then had the students tell the story in small groups to practice public speaking. And then I had the students act out the baby-stealing story, which got some of my girls up and out of their shy shells. It was excellent, and finally… finally, after a full year of teaching, I feel like my students are stepping out of their comfort zones and actually getting the feel of student-centered learning. I see what the other Peace Corps Volunteers say… the second year is so much better than the first. After you feel settled, after you are comfortable with the daily aspects of life, you can finally begin to branch out and do some real work.

In other news… I’ve found that weight loss is not necessarily the most convenient thing that could happen. Of all the clothed that I brought to Cambodia, only two things that I have still fit: one polo shirt and a jacket. Everything else is too big, has been tailored, or has been given to the great pile in the Volunteer room for others to take. I have found this to be a bit irritating, taking all my skirts in and re-sewing things to make them fit again. Ah, the price you pay. I’m still happy, especially because I know that I’m a bit of a special case; lots of the other volunteers are having trouble keeping weight off. I’m also thrilled at feeling so good, the best I have felt in my life. That’s Peace Corps for you!

Hey we built a house!

Fifteen people. No experience. The hot Cambodian sun beating down on us. It was a week of hard labor for Habitat for Humanity, and an amazing amount of fun for all of us. We were in Oudong, a small town outside of Phnom Penh known for the ancient temple on the mountain and the pagoda at the base which is a training site for the local monks. It is a beautiful place, and the small house that we built has beautiful views on every side – rice paddies one way, the peaks of the temple on the mountain on the other.

We were building this house as a sort of test run for Habitat; the program is relatively new in our country, and while they work up in Siem Riep, they are currently preparing for a big project that will take place in November. The Jimmy Carter Work Project will be a massive build all across SE Asia, with Habitat building 21 houses in Cambodia, Laos, China, Vietnam, and 80-something houses in Thailand (in celebration of the King’s upcoming birthday). And so, in preparation, Habitat tested out the build to try to judge how many volunteers, materials, skilled workers, and so on that they would need for their upcoming week long project (Yes, they are building a community of 21 houses in one week’s time…)

So – our work! We came onto the build site, moved some big cement blocks, and ended up becoming masons for a week as we laid the bricks neatly with mortar around the already constructed foundation. We had some help; skilled Khmer laborers were working alongside us, helping us, fixing our few mistakes, and getting to know us through our Khmer exchanges. They were all local, and some of them were more excited about the prospect of helping the white folk learn their trade than others. Even still, we all had a blast slowly layering the blocks to create what would soon be a community center. Habitat is creating this community of 21 houses for a certain population of people; a community recently displaced from their homes near a dump site closer to Phnom Penh. They are hoping that it will be the new “place to be” for the locals – and it is a very nice place.

So slowly we built, a few rows a day, with lots of breaks for some water and shade… And somehow, at the end of the week, even with some rain breaks, we had a house! But, even better, at the end of the week, some of the members of the community came over for a dedication ceremony and a bit of a party. All of the children wanted to play, and we danced in a circle to Khmer songs. It is why I joined Peace Corps… to see that joy and feel as welcome in a community as I did. It was incredible, and the presentation of the ‘key to the house’ was very heart-warming and beautiful. If only I could get that kind of feedback every week!

http://www.habitat.org/newsroom/2009archive/05_01_2009_JRCWP_Peace_Corps.aspx#P1_12

http://www.hfhap.org/ap_update/images/cambodia_news_may09.pdf

My Malaysian Adventure!

My Malaysian Adventure with Bri
*FYI… this is a long post… There was a lot to see.
**Side note: There are very few pictures because my camera got stolen mid-trip.
No worries, though.

It all began on the flight from Phnom Penh to Kuala Lumpur. I met a cute Malaysia guy who bought me a Pepsi and taught me a bunch of Malay words (Thank you: Terima Kasih. Your Welome: Samua Samua), then just talked with me through my anxiousness on the flight. I’m not scared of flying, or of much, but I realized that it is basically the first trip that I’ve taken that hasn’t been led by anyone but me. Peace Corps is one easy trip, as were all my trips around the States and even my trek to Uganda (I was with Ugandans and didn’t have to figure anything out myself). But this trip is mine, and I made it.

I went on the trip with a gal named Bri, who lives in a different province as me in Cambodia. We have the same adventurous spirit and desire to live cheap and without guides. That may come into play later…we’ll see.

Day 2: Kuala Lumpur.

We woke up and got ready, the Petronas Towers in mind. After looking around the massive place, we finally realized how to go and get tickets, which we did. We took a quick walk through the city over to the other Tower, the KL Tower, which ended up as a massively touristy (Snow Park…?) and very disappointing adventure. We didn’t go up, just walked around, then went over to Chinatown for some hot and sour soup (delicious!!) Back at the towers, we watched a 3D movie (lame, though fortunately there was a pack of cute Uruguayan men who were keeping us entertained), then went up to the archway of the towers for a photo shoot (which meant that Bri was laying down on the carpet a lot). Then we celebrated with Dunkin Donuts. We kept walking, and found ourselves at a mall full of food – the Pavilion. There are 4 floors of food, or at least that is what it seemed – all foods, every kind of food. I ate Subway and tasted my favorite of the 31 Flavors – Chocolate Peanut Butter. And we also went to see “He’s Just Not That Into You,” in a real movie theatre, with real popcorn and soda, and real comfy seats. It was incredible!!

Day 3: Off to the Jungle.

In the morning, we had some of the best coffee I have ever tasted, from a little Indian restaurant – a little sweet, frothy, and lovely. Then we hopped on a bus to a bus to get to a bus to the jungle. While we were waiting for the little bus to the jungle, we indulged with some KFC – and this ended up being more eventful than I had previously expected.

While we were enjoying our delicious fried chicken, we were sitting near these two Malaysian guys, making minimal eye contact for the sheer reason of them being the only other people to look at. We got up to leave, slowed with our backpacks, and they timed their exit to match ours. They made beautiful kissing noises to our backs as we walked away and we thought that they had taken off. But then, after we are seated in our (very old and crappy local) bus, at the very back row, the cuter of the two boys came up to knock on the window and talk to us. We humored him, though he spoke zero English, and he began gesturing to try to get us into their big blue truck. We declined, and he tried a few more times, going back and forth between the truck and the bus to talk to his friend and then back to gesture to us. We once again thought they had gone after they pulled up close to the bus along the side and then peeled out of the parking lot. But, alas, they showed up just after the bus started moving and followed the bus for a good solid half hour, even after the bus stopped twice to let out passengers.

Fortunately, they lost interest and we went on enjoying our hour long bus ride to the jungle. Now, let me set the scene for the rest of this ride. We are sitting in the very back row, our backpacks strewn about the long seat, and the rest of the bus is Malay people of various ages – there is a pack of teenagers, some children running about, an older man who is chatting to the rest of the bus, and a few more scattered here and there. The teens are the closest to us – a bunch of boys and a girl who keep changing their seats. It begins to rain, and the old man motions for us to close our windows. The rain is pouring across the bus away from me, so I don’t bother, but it is hitting Bri directly and her attempts to close the window in front of her fail as it plops down as soon as she lets go of it. She closes it. It falls. She tries. It falls. One of the teens had been paying attention, and with the encouragement of his friends came to sit right in front of us and closed the window. It fell again, still spraying Bri and even me with rain water. So, he closed it again and held it up – and the bus went wild, with some sporadic clapping and cheers. I adore the Malay people.

We ended up in the little village adjacent to the entrance of the jungle and found a cute little hostel with a cool guy named Zeck at the helm. It was nothing special, but we had our own room (with some 8 beds), free breakfast, and lots of Bob Marley music. Plus, one of Zeck’s protégé’s practiced his English with us and let me listen to some cool Malay tunes from his native north.

Day 4: The Jungles at Teman Negara Park.

We started off bright and early with the barest of supplies, and with no guide. That’s how we roll. We began trekking around, seeing unusual plants, hearing cool sounds, and just experiencing the awesomeness of the whole thing. We walked around on the longest Canopy Walkway in the world, which was super cool – a bird’s eye view of the whole area. We kept trekking about, and Bri took a dip in the river (which got her a leech bite) and I got a few cuts on my feet (which got me two leech bites). We passed a couple of other people on the trail – we “raced” a group of middle aged tourists to the walkway without them knowing so, of course, and won; we chatted with a few bird-watchers who had very soothing voices and lots of fancy bird watching tools (including a pricey ipod and speakers that played bird noises) and they let me look through their binoculars at the bird that they had found; we had a stare down with a semi-odd fella near one of the hides. Side note: at this point, Bri had taken off her shirt for the heat and the bird watchers had to have noticed that something was amiss as she ties a kroma around herself for some basic modesty… we weren’t expecting to run into anyone in the jungle wilderness. We climbed a mountain in the jungle as well, just a little one, but thrilling nonetheless. The more thrilling part of that adventure was going down the mountain… the descent was pretty brutal.

After a little lunch (where we were tagged as “backpackers,” something I had never considered myself as before then), we went to a cave. It was a good afternoon trek, as we were about exhausted with pushing ourselves so far from before. We went right past a native village on our way and even saw a few people milling about (we didn’t want to disturb anyone there and we weren’t dressed for visiting). We got to the cave and followed a very intelligent rope that made a trail through the steep rocks and bumps of the interior. Did I mention that this was a bat cave? A few of the bigger slabs on the ceiling had hundreds of bats resting in their upside down hang – and it was incredible! Well, not only were there bats, but there was also bat guano, and by the time we emerged from that cave we were covered in all kinds of nasty. It was worth it – there were so many sights and so much to do there.

We finished the evening with some food as we watched a volleyball match in the sand. In the town, all the restaurants are floating and everything is on or near the river – which made for some outstanding views of the area. There was a beautiful bend with some rapids right outside the hostel window, and we listened to that every moment of the day.

Day 5: More traveling…

After a chill morning relaxing by the jungle, we took a slow boat back to the main city. We sat behind a beautiful French family with children that kept getting in trouble for spraying water on us (though we just laughed at it). Then began the long wait for the train to the north. We filled the time by chatting with people – I met a lovely German couple who were traveling for the better part of a year all around Asia. Talk about a dream vacation – they saved money for a few years and quit everything and went. Then there was a great Haitian-American man who was so gentle and sweet, and we talked about life here and there and everywhere. Then a young French/German guy who works for a cigarette company and makes more money than I can fathom, who was headed for the jungle on vaca from his work in Switzerland/Singapore/Malaysia. And a few Eastern European gals who were beyond grateful for the loan of our English People magazine. And finally, in the train station, while we waited for the train the was about 4 hours late, we played Yahtzee with a pair of German gentleman, Thomas and Florian, who we ended up traveling with to the islands.

Day 6 and 7: Palau Perhentians

We took the first speedboat out to the islands, a good half an hour journey, and made it to the most beautiful place I have ever seen. In these islands the water is crystal clear, the sand is soft and white, the view out to the ocean is unmarred and sweetened with green mountainous islands scattered around… the waves are gentle and create lovely white foam as they crash on the beach… and even the cheapest housing on the beach has a five star view of the ocean.

We hopped into the South China Sea and spent the day lazing about and enjoying the sunshine and the company of our new German friends – they are mathematicians, by the way, and they drew a map of Germany in the sand for us to show us where they are from.

The next day we went snorkeling – wow! There were a bunch of us – Thomas and Florian, a Dutch couple, a young British couple, and us. I had never done anything like this before, and it was so incredible! We went to a site with lots of fish in every color and size and shape – then some Malay guys gave me some bread and the fish swarmed up and ate it from my hands. Some of them even bit me, an understandable mistake given how pale I am. Fun fact: the plankton in this particular sea sting your skin for a moment as you swim by – it is a tingly feeling. I saw a little shark in my snorkeling adventure… and I touched one of the giant sea turtles as he came up for air – a little graze on his giant shell before he dove back down to the bottom to eat some more.

After this adventure, we trekked over to the other side of the island to watch the sun set over the sea and ended up chatting with a cool Indian-American guy who works in… Cambodia! I spent my evening chatting with him and a bunch of young Brits and Canadians, a big group of party-goers on vacation from school and life.

Day 8 and 9: More travel and Singapore!

And then the island adventure was over… and we left, meeting a cool French guy and a chill British dude on the way back. We traveled with them (a good choice, I think, because the taxi drivers in the little town ran some sort of cruel monopoly and they tried to involve the public buses as well. Our Frenchman told the bus that he had better let us on… and he did). We went up, hoping to catch a bus to Singapore (though they were all gone) and ended up down in KL again, before we backtracked to Singapore.

We never actually intended on a trip to Singapore, and I do wish I would have had more time there, but because we only wanted to meet up with another group of Peace Corps travelers, we did that and then took off for more adventure elsewhere.

It went something like this though… we got in, got lost (because it’s been 9 months since I have seen public transport of any kind), found ourselves in Little India, which was the coolest place ever – so full of life and energy – found some housing, took a shower, went out with the crew, played some pool and got some martinis, got home, and woke up to leave. I did meet a young fella from Colorado who reminded me of my cousin Drew (only with long blond hair and experience in hole-digging in Antarctica) who was sweet enough to buy me a drink and give Dan some much needed bro-time… The other Malaysia crew from Peace Corps was 3 girls and Dan… add 2 more girls and he is severely outnumbered.

Days 10-14: Kuching, Sarawak, Borneo.

Fun fact: Sarawak, which is on the Borneo side of Malaysia, is the only place in Malaysia that is treated like its own county. I have a special passport stamp from it to prove it!

Kuching was by far my favorite place in Malaysia. There was something about the atmosphere of the town – the friendly people, the lack of tourists, the general ambiance of the place – that just made me fall in love. “Kuching” means “cat” in the Malay language, and just to let you know that, the town has three different cat statues, as well as an entire museum devoted to cats. The town also has a cool mix of people, with lots of Chinese, some Malays and Indians, and a ton of native tribes who have assimilated into the Kuching culture. There is a huge mix of religions around as well – we saw a Catholic Church, a Muslim Mosque, and Temples from the Buddhist, Hindu, and Sikh faiths. But it seemed to me that there was no fighting, no animosity or stigma between these different people. It was incredible!

Our first night in Kuching, we walked around the town, finding things to eat and do, getting the lay of the land and chatting with the locals. We watched the sun set on the river as several mosques played their call to evening prayer and the sounds surrounded us. On our way home, we stumbled upon a big party at one of the Chinese temples, and our curious stares drew curious stares back, and then got us an invite to join the party! We accepted, and a lovely fella walked us through the steps of prayer according to the temple, with incense lighting and kneeling, then told us about the history of the temple and the party that we were attending. Then he sat us down at a table, gave us a beer, and introduced us to the man sitting across from us… the mayor of the town! It was here that we saw the first example of mixing cultures --- James, the mayor, is Catholic, his friend was Muslim, and we were all at the Buddhist Temple party with the Chinese crowd. Plus, after our party, we stopped by McDonalds and met up with a few Africans who are studying there. We got home and watched some people play Chinese poker with narrow and colorful cards, then crashed.

The next day, we moved to a different hostel, one that was cheaper and in a better part of town. It is run by a couple of cool guys from the Iban tribe – with a few friends involved. I had so much fun I never wanted to leave… and we didn’t really. We went on a few quests for food (mainly McDonalds or pizza or ice cream) and to a night market (which is just like the Cambodian markets except in the evening and with more unusual fare) and for some shopping and town exploration, but mainly, we had fun with the guys in the hostel. There was quite a crowd there – a cool French lady doing her thing, a brother and sister from mainland Malaysia, another brother/sister pair from Britain, a guy from Australia, and a couple from the Netherlands. All those people, along with the locals, made for a few interesting evenings… One night the local masseuse came around and fixed up my back (After he rubbed my arm for a minute he told me, “There’s something wrong with your stomach; it doesn’t feel good,” and I said, “Wow! How did you know that?). Another night, we watched Stephen King’s “It” and scared ourselves to death. Another evening gave me a fake tattoo on my shoulder – a traditional Iban tattoo of a stylized hornbill for protection – which I want to make permanent.

And… we saw Orang-utans!!!!!!!
Fun fact: The word, “Orang utans,” means “people of the jungle” in Malay.
So we went on a grand excursion to see these cool people. It took a few tries – we had trouble waking up a few mornings, and also we had no clue where we were headed, so it was a little more difficult than we imagined. But then we found the van to take us, for only a few dollars, all the way to the Sanctuary and back, and we found ourselves in this cool place! We also met a neat Aussie lady who had been everywhere and a Finnish couple (I’ve never met a Finlandian before!) We had to walk down a bit of a path, to a little viewing area where they had set some food out, and then we saw them… There was a mom with a little toddler, who amused himself by swinging about with little limbs, another mom with a newborn baby, and a few more animals of different sizes and personalities. They were so amazing! I was so awed by them and how free they seemed, how similar to us they are. I loved it!

We left the next day, with “heavy feet,” as our famous tattoo artist said… (Check out National Geographic Taboo: Tattoos to see the Iban guy we met)… and ended up back in KL for one last McDonalds adventure. We also met a German gal flying solo, a very sweet Swedish family, and a traveling American guy whose leftover soda we took (The airport has expensive things). We also, oddly, met up with an American couple whose roots are in south Cambodia in the nursing field – I say odd because they took the same flight from Phnom Penh to KL as we did and the same flight from KL to Phnom Penh as we did… and we saw them both times!

Phnom Penh was busy, and flooded, and it made me sad for a few minutes, until I realized that I did actually miss some things about this country. I sure missed my host family…

A few updates!

Here are a few updates from ‘the Land of Smiles,’ or whatever the Tourism industry calls this little corner of the world…

--Even though it is the hot and dry season, it has been raining about once a week for some time, and the heat is not as unbearable as I thought it would be. I think that Iowa life has conditioned me for anything and everything… Although I’m dreading coming back to the state at the beginning of winter after almost 3 years of no temperatures under 70.

--The family has a jasmine bush that has just flowered recently, right underneath my window (which is open at all times). So, last night when it was raining, the scent wafted through to me and made my room smell like my favorite Jasmine tea.

--There is a baby of about 6 months who is a cousin and comes over to visit my grandmother fairly frequently, and yesterday was no exception. I came downstairs to visit and see little Maleka, who immediately opened her arms to come to me and wouldn’t let go. She didn’t go to her aunt who watches her all the time, or to my grandmother, or to my host mom, or my little brother, or either of my sisters. My family was quite surprised and I was tickled… She only let go for her mother.

--There are more school holidays than I could ever keep track of. The entire month of February for 5 days of testing, next week for more testing, the entire month of April for Khmer New Year, a full week in May for the King’s Birthday, parts of June for testing, and all of July for the same. Not to mention the several “I just don’t feel like it” days that students and teachers alike enjoy taking.

--I have made friends with a considerable amount of monks at the somewhat distant pagoda of Rolum Chrey, and now whenever I go there, the head monk invites me up to his balcony and we drink water or Coke and eat apples and talk about stuff.

--Somehow, someway, both the AC and closed rooms with fans stirring up dust have been making me ill. See the above fear of returning to Iowa…

--I have lost all manners and social graces that I have once had. There are many examples of this…
-We sit on the table and all eat from communal dishes that we spoon into our own bowl of rice, so sometimes between the communal plate and my plate food falls to the table… but then I eat it anyway.
-I bathe in a huge water room with the shower and the toilet and a big tub of water all in the same place. The whole thing is tiled, and I can splash water wherever I please and spit out toothpaste and shampoo my hair and just wash it all into the ditch.
-We recently met the American Ambassador to Cambodia while we were in Phnom Penh, and while exchanging pleasantries, decided to talk about how beautiful the bathrooms were in the Embassy (it’s true, they are, and the whole thing is a slice right out of America).
-Peace Corps Volunteers are very close with each other, and our position here in this odd country makes us more aware of the things our body can handle, and we often compare these things. So, it stands to reason that I have had more conversations about constipation, sex, diarrhea, insect-related diseases, skin issues, weight, periods and other girl-troubles, and any number of other related topics than I ever had before. We also talk about food… all the time. Though we have found that we PCVs have developed relationships in our meager 8 months here that it would have taken years to cultivate in the States… seemingly because we are more true to ourselves; take away your normal clothes, your car, your college or other lifestyle, anything else that you define as yourself, and what you have is us.

-- What’s coming up…
-This weekend: A St. Patty’s Day party with the VSOs (which will include real Irish food and real Irish people)
-Beginning of next week: A friend from Simpson who is staying in Thailand is coming to visit for a few days, and we will go to see the temples in Siem Riep!
-Next Month: I am going to both Peninsular Malaysia and Borneo in hopes of finding the “wild women” who I was always compared to as a child and young adult. I will be searching for a woman with wildly crazy and curly hair like my own and see if we can take a group photo.
-May: I want to go and see the rest of the Thailand group before they go back to good ole Iowa, so I think I’ll spend the King’s Birthday on that.
-Mid-July: Myself, Deidre, and Whitney are planning a girl’s camp that will bring some of our girls into the city and introduce them to educational and career opportunities!
-Late Summer: I am trying to find a way to work in the arts with a local NGO. Also, I’m excited to meet all the families and friends that are coming up – Deidre’s twin and friends, Whitney’s brother and folks, Anthony’s girlfriend and family, and maybe some more…

A Video

A little video of some students playing with the Cambodian version of Hackey Sack. Fun fact: They have never heard of baseball, despite the resemblance. If I try to explain it, they are lost...

Some photos!

Here is a link to two of my recent albums on Facebook - Enjoy!

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2020373&id=72901581&l=07e15


http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2020692&id=72901581&l=a1cdd