Normal Life?

I cannot believe that Thanksgiving has passed and we are less than one month away from Christmas. It seems inconceivable that we have been living in Cambodia for almost four months, while at the same time it feels like we have been here forever.

I have not been as good about updating the blog as I was in the beginning, mostly because everything seems more mundane and less exciting to write about. I guess that is the natural progression of things, but I will do my best to update now.

Since my last update, Kate and Tyler continued their honeymoon into Laos and Vietnam. We started school the day after returning from Siem Reap, and it was awesome to see the kids after almost two weeks. I remember hearing their voices when they first starting arriving back on campus -- it felt like we were home. Luckily, we did not lose any students to the vacation. As much as I tried to push the thought out of my head, we were well aware that it is typical for a boarding student population to lose a first-year student or two during their first vacation. However, all our students seemed happy to be back and had lots of stories to tell about being home. A lot of them came back with new things -- new clothes, new hair accessories, one student actually came back with dyed black hair...

One of the first activities that I facilitated with the kids after break was creating a "memory museum." Each student was asked to bring something back with them from home that served as a memory. I explained that a memento is something that helps you to imagine or remember a special place. I showed the kids pictures from Kate and Ty's wedding as my example.

It was so interesting to see what the kids all brought back -- from a specially carved pair of chopsticks to a huge coconut to a small pebble and even a new pair of sandals -- the students presented their objects so genuinely. Each child made a label for their object, and since we don't have a fully functioning library yet (we have thousands of dollars worth of books headed our way from China, woo hoo!), we decorated the empty shelves with our memories. It was a really special thing to do with the kids and although a lot of their discussion and sharing was in Khmer, I feel like it helped me to get to know the students even better. I also felt a sense of settling, in that we know these are our 50 kids and they know we are their teachers and no one is leaving. It all felt a lot more permanent after getting through the first big hurdle of vacation.

The first weekend back was Oktoberfest. Jess, who formerly worked at an international school in Munich, insisted that it would be fun for a bunch of us to get tickets to the local celebration. I was doubtful of the good time to be had at a Cambodian version of Oktoberfest, especially since they struggle in the beer department, but we bought tickets anyway. Robert and his wife, Kate, me and Jeff, Jess and Nica, Max and JoJo all shelled out the $18 and arrived just as things were getting started. The only down side to the entire event was the Tiger beer (reminiscent of Busch Light). Otherwise, it was one of the most fun nights I have had here. There was authentic German food, including fresh baked pretzel bread, a whole roasted pig (delicious!), pickled cabbage, potatoes of all kinds, lots of condiments, three kinds of sausage, etc. It was a feast! An authentic German band, complete with dread-locked flute player and old, gray-bearded accordion man were a blast, encouraging the guests to dance on the tables (which we happily did) and sing along to German songs with accompanying hand motions. Jess vouched for their authenticity. We had an absolutely fantastic time. We met some other teachers from another international school and JoJo and I ended up on stage singing  4 Non Blondes "What's Up?" Makes sense, right? The Cambodian contingent, to their credit, were all down to have a great time. Some were dancing with us and a lot were dancing together, but overall it was one of the only times that I have seen local Cambodians (albeit the upper class - $$ admission) loosen up and have fun in an overt way. They also played Gangnum Style no less three times, which guarantees a good night.

Meanwhile, school has taken on more of a routine, as we have begun a more standard and consistent academic program. Our fifty kids have been organized into two groups (21 and 29), with the smaller number consisting of those students who need more support in English oral language development. They are non-readers, many of whom are still in the phonics stage (linking letters and sounds). We spent the first two weeks working through capital and lowercase letter identification and we are still drilling sounds every morning. The 29 are all reading at an A level or higher and have better oral language skills. Thankfully, the majority of all 50 kids are able to express higher level thinking skills in their mother tongue, including insights into what they would say to the members of the ASEAN conference if they had the chance. One of our 21 indicated that he knew that Cambodia had borrowed a lot of money from the U.S. a long time ago and if he had the chance, he would ask Obama to erase the debt. A girl from the 29 said she wanted to discuss human trafficking with the leaders. Another said she wanted to tell Obama that Cambodia is not a weak country. Our youngest boy said he would ask the leaders to buy him toys and ice cream because they probably have a lot of money...we definitely have a range here at Liger, haha.

Two weekends ago Jeff and I took a trip to Kampot, a riverside town about two and a half hours from the city. We hired a car to whisk us away at 4:45 on Friday and arrived by 7:15. The hotel we stayed in was right next to the river, within full view of the beautiful tree-covered mountains, a sight unseen in the city. It had a big pool and a delicious restaurant (best fish tacos we've had), as well as a general feeling of all the guests just hanging out together. Saturday we got a tuk-tuk and went from place to place, getting to know Kampot. It has a very small town feel compared to PP, and there is a pretty large French ex-pat and ex-pat in general influence/population. The highlight was going to these really cool caves that were filled with rock formations that look like different animals (elephants, cows, turtles, an old man, ghost (below), etc.).

We were toured through by five English-speaking Cambodian kids ranging from ten to eighteen. It was great to be able to speak to them about their lives, where they go to school, if the older ones are planning on going to university, where they live, how many siblings they have, etc. It was refreshing because its often really hard to communicate with our students the way we want to because of their English limitations (or our Khmer limitations...).

We had lunch overlooking the river at a cute little ex-pat run place and sipped a pitcher of Pimm's on the second level. That night we ate ribs at The Rusty Keyhole, met a couple from D.C. who were on a world tour (literally, they will be in Tanzania for New Years after touring throughout Asia, and hit Europe before ending in S. America); we ended the night at a newly opened cafe run by a wizened Frenchman who looks like Dumbledore but rages on the drums during live sets with his 18-year-old Cambodian guitar player. Overall the weekend was very relaxing and desperately needed. It was easy enough to get to, but still felt like we were far removed from our lives in the city.

I have to cut this short because we are heading off to a tour of the killing fields this morning with my friends Meaghan and Natalie from BC, who are visiting. Still to come: Thanksgiving, Meg Deg's visit, and some of the more trying components of Cambodian life...

Floating Village, Siem Reap

After our marvelous day on Silk Island, it was time to hop the bus to Siem Reap, something that Jeff and I had been looking forward to since arriving in Cambodia. To reference a phone conversation that I had with my 88-year-old grandfather a few weeks before leaving: "Angkor Wat! It's in Cambodia. I heard about it on the news. It's supposed to be amazing! Make sure you go!"

Yes, Angkor Wat is the main reason why any tourist would put Cambodia on their list of travel destinations. It is a huge source of revenue for the country, and something that we know we are probably going to visit more than once. Therefore, we wanted to wait for an excuse to go with visitors, instead of by ourselves (I did grow up 30 minutes from Niagara Falls, after all...). 

We woke up early to catch the bus, but when we arrived, the bus we had reservations with had not acquired enough people to run to Siem Reap. We were shuffled onto another bus without much commotion or explanation, so we hopped on. I mean why not, right? It's an adventure. And this bus didn't look like it had anything wrong with it.

What ensued was a scene from a nightmare. In the thick of it, I believe I likened it to torture methods used on prisoners in Guantanamo Bay's isolation chambers. See, about ten minutes after departure, Jeff and I were snuggled into our seats with an episode of True Blood playing on the iPad when the TV at the front of the bus exploded with light and sound. A Khmer music video began playing at top volume. 

Now, I am going to play Ron Swanson here: I think you may have read that last sentence incorrectly. Perhaps you think that what I meant was that the music was pretty loud. What I actually wrote was that the "video began playing at top volume." Literally the loudest that the sound system on the bus could go. For this bus, that was ear-splittingly loud. Headphones with a movie playing did nothing but make my head spin. Actual earplugs only dulled the bass, not the prominence of the music...if you could even call it that; the actual songs were abhorrent. Cambodian music has not evolved very far beyond high-pitched moans and garish, clanging background noise. It is misery in audio form.

Let me add insult to injury by mentioning that the bus we had initially signed up for had promised to deliver us at the foot of the temple (I exaggerate) within five hours. The bus we were shunted onto stopped no less than three times (for 45 minutes apiece) and delivered us to a dirty parking lot in nowheres-ville Siem Reap in just under EIGHT hours.

We are stupid Cambodian novices and we should be ashamed of ourselves.

Since this fiasco, our hearing and sanity have returned and we have heard from others (as they chuckle at our idiocy) that because many locals cannot afford personal devices for entertainment during long rides, these music videos are favored. This knowledge does not alleviate our heart palpitations as we revisit those loathsome memories.

I shall end this tirade by telling you that on the third stop, with only an hour and a half to go before Siem Reap, Jeff stalked the bus driver as he ate his afternoon meal and bribed him with five dollars to turn the videos off for the last segment of the trip. At that point I would have offered up 100 dollars, my iPad, my sister's new wedding ring AND my actual sister. But five dollars was acceptable, so that's what we went with. It was the best five dollars we ever spent.

Now go with me back to that dirty, empty parking lot. We are gathering up our stuff while a bunch of tuk-tuk drivers are anxiously collecting at the door to woo customers into their contraptions for transport. Our Silk Island friend John had set us up with his friend Toh La, but we did not know what he looked like. Luckily, Toh La came equipped with a printed sign for Mr. Jefrey, so the meet up happened quite easily. If it had not, I may never have made it off that bus alive. Toh La spoke wonderful English, was interested in getting to know us, was very friendly and very experienced with showing tourists around Siem Reap. We immediately felt comfortable with him (not to mention he was wearing Pharrell-type sunglasses and told us we could call him that if we wished).

On the way to the hotel, we explained that since Jeff and I were in SR for less than two days, we wanted to make the most of what was left of this day. Pharrell suggested that we drop our stuff quickly and head to the floating villages for sunset. This was something that we had read about in our guidebook and definitely wanted to do, so we agreed. Ten second showers later, we grabbed road beers (which warm quickly and are hard to drink over the bumpy roads - I wouldn't suggest it) and tukked the twenty minutes to the villages.

Our first warning that we were no longer in Kansas was that each entrance ticket cost twenty dollars. But, since we were already there and wanted to see the villages, we acquiesced. I countered the cost by thinking about all the money we save by living in PP, and patted myself on the back for all the cheap things we partake in at home. We were then handed over to a private tour guide named Pad, who was dressed up in a cheap-looking uniform that was trying to look culturally authentic (think: It's a Small World at Disney). He had on a typical wide-brimmed straw hat, a silken collared shirt and navy blue high water pants. He spoke English well, which turned out to be the case all around SR (in stark contrast to PP). Our boat, which seated about ten, was empty except for the four of us and took off almost as soon as we sat down. Trying to make it for sunset, we headed off for the villages as Pad talked about the varying depths of the water. During the dry season, the water that our boat was riding over plummets down to 1 meter deep. He pointed out two rows of stilted homes facing each other in the distance. The water, currently nine meters deep as it is the rainy season, covered the road between the houses entirely. The homes were still standing due to their height, and they were the only indicators that there was a road there at all. Pad told us that once the water receded, cars and tuk-tuk could drive on this currently-submerged road all the way out to the lake. On both sides of us, trees were visible only by their top-most leaves. My initial fears about the Disney-like quality of this trip were eased as I settled back, enjoyed the view and listened to this amazing information.

However, once the more pertinent cultural and structural information was disseminated, Pad turned on his "guide voice" and began to stop the boat for our "photo opportunities." Instead of organically choosing spots of interest to photograph, we were told to get into group pictures that he would take here and there. Meanwhile, larger boats full of 20+ people were cruising by, leading me to wonder if we could have chosen a cheaper ticket on a larger, less personal boat. This option had not been presented to us, but we certainly would have selected it if it had been. Furthermore, we had been told upon purchase that our ticket would allow us access to the floating village as a whole, including the lake, the floating school, crocodiles, the fish farm and the floating forest. When I inquired about the crocodiles, Pad assured me that there were no crocs in the water. I was half-relieved not to have to worry about hanging over the boat too far and losing a limb, but my anxiety that we were being scammed ratcheted up once more.

We passed through the village with floating homes and businesses on either side. There were people of all ages using boats, floating planks and even metal cooking pots to get from dwelling to dwelling. We observed them carrying on their normal activities, hanging laundry out to dry, laying in a hammock, fixing a roof. We passed the floating police station, which was nothing more than a normal looking building. What was interesting was imagining how police-related activities might play out in this context (car chases, ambulance runs, evidence gathering, etc.). At this point I began asking Pad about the floating school, since I had experienced mixed feelings since hearing about it. Being at Liger has helped me understand that tourist visitors at different schools or orphanages can do more harm than good. Students get attached to visitors very quickly and can become genuinely upset at their departure. Furthermore, children should never be used as a means of fundraising, and in this case I felt like the floating school was being touted as a must-see product.

Pad told me that there are 120 kids in the lower school, but there are two buildings, totaling almost 400 students. He said these kids had "no mother, no father," but that we would have a chance to stop and buy food to bring to them. Sure enough, minutes later we pulled up alongside a small store, which looked like any other Cambodian mini-mart except that it was bobbing up and down in the water. The store's owner led us through the crowded room, pointing out big ticket items that we should buy for the students. A 50kg bag of rice, much like the ones we use at Liger, was quoted at $70, while a bag of 40 dum-dum lollipops was $5. I was conflicted about showing up at the school with nothing to offer, but felt like we were being taken advantage of because we were white. Feeling scammed, Jeff began to explain to the owner that we teach at a similar school serving underprivileged Cambodian students and that he knew that this bag of rice was nowhere near that expensive. Even after our protests, when I contemplated buying the lollys just to have something to hand out, the man urged us to buy the Ramen noodles or the rice because it is "healthier for the kids." At that we conferred and agreed that we did not feel comfortable purchasing anything. We thanked the man and got back in the boat. As a last ditch sales pitch, the owner told us that the reason why he was selling the rice at such a high price is because last year's rice harvest in Cambodia was the worst one in history. False. We later found out that the Liger chef buys his 50kg bags of rice for $35. Right on.

After leaving the store rather awkwardly, we were brought to the fish market. We should have known what we were getting into with two biologists on board. As soon as we pulled up, we were accosted by a mother and her young child, who pulled up next to us in a canoe. The child had a lethargic boa constrictor hung around his neck and asked us to pay one dollar to touch it. What?! 

We ignored them, got off the boat and entered into the floating village final frontier. I will keep it brief. There were large fish tanks sunken into the ground teeming with catfish - when Pad half-heartedly threw some cereal in to them, they thrashed around for all to see. Next on the docket was the croc pit. Yes, the crocs that we were promised were lying in a shallow pit strewn with candy wrappers and beer cans, laying almost on top of each another. Pad told us with a smile that no, these were not local crocs, they were actually shipped in from Thailand. If we so chose, we could have any one of them turned into a bag or a pair of shoes. He pointed in the direction of an interior room, which we later found to contain even more dirty fish tanks and entire croc skins. He was right about the bags, as disturbing as that is.

Needless to say, we were spooked. We felt scammed and uncomfortable and I personally was ready to leave. The rooftop sunset did little to relieve these emotions. Our last stop was our last photo opportunity, occurring at the lake at the end of the river before we turned back. As we headed back, I realized that we did not stop at the school. I mentioned it to Jeff and we pondered it for a little bit, getting even more uncomfortable as our minds raced. Finally, Jeff asked Pad why we did not stop at the school when we had been told upon purchasing the ticket that we would be taken there. Pad's immediate first response was an angry, frustrated: "If you tell me you want to go school, I take you school. You no tell me!" Shocked, I backed off, feeling almost sick. After a few minutes, we tried again to explain that we felt like we were not given the chance to see the school because we didn't buy them anything. What unfolded turned out to be a really difficult conversation in which Jeff and I tried to explain how we felt and Pad exclaimed how he was not on salary and how his meager income (around $30/month) was decimated by having to rent the boat and costume from the new owners each day. He culminated by asking us, "you think I am happy?!" It was seriously intense and I felt absolutely awful. 

Awful about the tourist trap we had unknowingly found ourselves in. Awful for the people who are made to behave like show ponies to make a dollar. Awful for Pad's misinterpretation of our unwillingness to buy overpriced items as being spoiled, selfish, cheap westerners who don't care about the hunger of orphans.

All in all it was an incredibly intense and emotional experience. 

The rest of our time in SR was spent at the three temples, Angkor Wat, Temple Bayon and my personal favorite, the Jungle Temple. Since they are too impressive and gorgeous for words, below are some pictures.