King of the Jungle

Once the students realized that the tall, white man would most likely not eat one of them, he became extremely popular.  His groupies followed him everywhere and wanted their photo taken with him. 

One afternoon, I went in my apartment to prepare a small picnic of assorted fruit slices while Radek sat outside, enjoying the warm day.  When I returned, he was not alone.  He later told me the students called him, "Cha!" showed him a Lion King book, and made it clear that he should read it to them.  (I wonder what they thought of his accent.) 

Eating like Locals

I thought it would be fun to take Radek to one of the local restaurants in the village.  I wanted Cynthia to get to know him as well, so I ended up taking them in shifts on my moto.  First, I drove Radek to the restaurant with instructions to find a nice table.  The waitresses were clearly nervous when they realized I had just deposited a large white man alone with them.  They tentatively asked him, "Your friend speak Khmer?" 

I soon returned with Cynthia.  The waitresses had done their best to accommodate him by putting some glasses and ice on the table.  Most restaurants don't have a menu, and if there is one, it's in Khmer.  I know how to order vegetable meals for myself and how to ask a few questions about chicken dishes for Cynthia, but that is where my food ordering knowledge abruptly ends. 

Radek wanted to try a typical Khmer dish, so we called Laum.  He explained our orders to the waitress over the phone.  We requested: watergreens for all to share, vegetable fried rice for me, a chicken dish for Cynthia, and a typical "hot pot" soup for Radek. 

Meanwhile, the place was filling up with families and a large group of cops/soldiers, all of whom were blatantly staring at us.  This was the moment when Radek first started hearing the word, barang, a lot.

In Cambodia (and often other countries), they bring out a meal as soon as it is prepared, so everyone gets their food at a different time.  I'm used to this, and it's not considered rude to start eating right away because you don't want to eat cold food.  The water greens came first with a delicious garlic sauce.  I don't know the actual word for this vegetable.  They are long green, stringy stalks that they pull out of a lake or something, but they are delicious.  I have become completely obsessed with them and have a sticky note on my wall reminding me to get the recipe from one of my Cambodian friends.

Cynthia's chicken and my veggie rice arrived next, which we both loved.  Unexpectedly, an odd looking plate of meat arrived.  We all stared at it, wondering what this could be.  It was meat, but beyond that, it was unclear.  There was just something weird about it.  Since Cynthia only eats chicken, Radek tasted it.  His face conveyed a range of emotions in this order:  optimism, confusion, disgust.  Cynthia asked if it was chicken.  He pulled a bone out of his mouth and announced, "It's definitely a bird."  "This is the neck bone."  They both sampled it a couple times, attempting to find pieces that didn't look like innards.  They concurred it was not fit for human consumption.  (However, Cynthia brought it home, and Gogo and Isa loved it.)  There is an Asian saying that goes something like this.  "Eat anything that swims except a submarine, eat anything with four legs except a table, eat anything that flies except a plane, and eat anything that travels by twos except a bicycle."  Truly, this dish fell into that category. 

There is a reason why Radek's soup was called a hot pot.  He opened the lid, peered into the middle, and exclaimed, "Oh, there is fire inside."  He enjoyed it very much.

It's black dark at night in Mongkol Borei, and the turn for the path to our school is a challenge to find even during the day.  I will confess to a U-turn on the way back to school with each of my guests.  At school, Radek was amazed at the absolute darkness and silence.  We stood there, looking at stars and absorbing the tranquility for a while.  After living here for five months, I sometimes forget these simple pleasures.

Blessed

Laum invited some monks to come on Friday and hold a special ceremony to bless the school.  I don't know where they found all this crap to make the required, gaudy Buddha shrine, but it was erected quickly.  My favorite part was the circular, electric glowing lights that blinked different colors every seven seconds.  (Yes, I counted.)  Four monks sat in the front,in their saffron robes, eyes averted down.

 Radek and I were encouraged to participate, so we sat on the mats like everyone else, in the proper seated position, with your weight on one side and legs tucked behind you on the other side, toes pointed backwards.  It is acceptable to rotate positions during the ceremony since it can get tiring.  I have never sat through an entire Buddhist ceremony before.  This one lasted 40 minutes.  I kept peeking at the other teachers and students and mimicked their actions.  We held our hand up in a typical prayer position, only higher with the fingers at nose level for the entire time.  This got tiring, so I ended up sort of resting my face on my fingers.  I figured it didn't matter since the monks seemed to be concentrating so hard on chanting, praying, meditating, or waiting for this thing to be over.  (It was hard to tell.)

Sitting like this is fine for about 15 minutes, but then the hard floor and cramped position makes you feel like a 90 year old trying to get out of a recliner after a Thanksgiving meal.  Nobody squirmed more Laum.  Every five minutes, he was rotating his chubby thighs.  He also answered his phone a couple times during the ceremony.  I'm pretty sure Buddha would not approve. 

Moreover, being raised a Catholic, I'm sure Radek can stand, kneel, and genuflect like a champ in a cathedral.  However, the concrete floor was not conducive to this European behemoth.  It took a little convincing (because he didn't want to be rude), but finally Cynthia said, "You're a Westerner.  Go sit on the chair." 

During the ceremony there was continuous chanting.  Sometimes it was an old man in the corner, sometimes a monk, sometimes all the people in unison.  At times, it was obvious that the participants forgot lines, but they would just smile in embarrassment, and carry on.  It was really cool, but honestly, after a while, I started wondering when it was going to end.  About that point, everybody started moving forward toward the monks, while still sitting, and several women made a point to park me right in front of a monk.  What is going on???  Luckily, one of the teachers kept whispering instructions to me.  Just in case you find yourself in this awkward position as an American raised Lutheran, just follow these simple steps.  Bow your head and touch the ground with your hands three times.  Give the monk his large bowl (filled with rice), using both hands.  Do three more bows.  Give a 4-tiered metal container (filled with meats and vegetables) to the monk.  Then, move back to your original position on the mat.

 

After this, I figured the conclusion should be coming along pretty soon...until I felt a wet spray of water land directly all over my body.  I looked up, surprised, and caught the monk with a glimmer or a smile on his face.  Ha ha.  Very funny.  Start the water flicking with the barang.  Anyway, he continued to flick rose water at everyone for the next ten minutes.  I am certain that he specifically aimed for me the most.  (In the picture above, Mr. Thang is flicking some of the people outside who missed out on the initial deluge.)

The women had prepared a feast, so we ate in the lunch room.  There was rice, chicken curry, fish soup, mango salad, water greens, watermelon, and some weird, bitter green branches that looked like someone had just pulled them from their backyard.  I tasted them.  Yep, they tasted exactly like a bush.  Radek must have a strong stomach because he ate everything and had no issues. 

Another Barang?

When I met Radek in Bangkok and told him about my school and the village, he wanted to visit for the weekend.  Since his travel schedule was flexible, and it's only a 5-6 hour drive to Mongkol Borei, it was possible.  I warned him that I live in the middle of a bunch of rice paddies, with three cows, and it's pitch dark at night.  This would likely scare off the average tourist, but he was brave.  He thought it would be interesting to experience rural Cambodia with me because I am familiar with the surroundings, culture, and local people. 

I introduced Radek to all my classes.  At first they stared, dumbfounded, at this tall giant German.  However, during recess when he pulled out his camera and began taking photos of the children, he was suddenly very popular.  Whenever I couldn't find him, I would just look for the clump of 100 children mobbing their new hero. 

 

I had prepared my 7th graders for his arrival and told them to write down some questions to ask him.  They asked many including, "Are you married?  How old are you?  What s your job?  Do you like Cambodia?"  He was surprised by their candid questions, and I later had to explain that this is normal for this culture.  No question is off limits.  The students also wanted to sing one of their pop songs in English.  I let them vote, and they chose a romantic one entitled, "Pretty Boy."  When I told Radek, he laughed and said, "What have you done?"

 

Laum and all the teachers thought it was hilarious that I had a visitor, particularly a male visitor.  There were lots of giggles and teasing.  Although I introduced Radek as my buak-mak (friend), all the students thought he was either my boyfriend or a new volunteer teacher.   

 

Double Trouble

Everyone has dogs, and nof them spend a lot of time at school, eating food spilled on the floor, tipping over trash cans, and begging for hand-outs from the students and staff.  A female dog recently had a litter of four puppies, and one night, two of the appeared at Cynthia's doorstep, whimpering.  They quickly adopted her as their new mother, and now Isa (female) and Gogo (male) are permanent fixtures at school.  They follow Cynthia everywhere, including her classes.

Surprise Surprise!

My 7th graders and I planned a surprise birthday attack for Cynthia's 60th birthday.  We made a class card, a poster that said, "Happy 34th Birthday!" and I had gifts from myself, the class, and the dogs (Isa & Gogo).  Unbeknownst to me, the students brought balloons and a cake.  We invaded her 1st class of the day, sang Happy Birthday, and blew bubbles and silly string.  Of course, her class did not mind the disruption at all (even though I'm sure her lesson on verb tenses was riveting), and Cynthia was very surprised.
                              
While we were planning the day before, the students asked me when my birthday was.  I explained that it already passed on October 20th.  A few hours after Cynthia's celebration, some of my students came to my class, giggled, and said, "Cha!  Come to 7A!"  I left my 1st graders unattended with strict instructions to be quiet and copy what I wrote on the board. 

In class 7A, all my students waiting with a birthday cake that read, "Happy Birthday Kari!  20-2-2014."  I thought it was funny that they wrote the current date on it.  Since there were about 20 students in there, I had to cut the slices really small.  Some of the kids didn't want a piece, but the boys were kind enough to finish off the leftovers.  They also brought a platter filled with mangoes, star fruit, and Cambodian apples. 

I could only imagine the chaos that must be taking place in my 1st grade classroom during all this, and expected the worst when I rushed back.  Instead, I found two boys standing in front of the board, teaching class.  They were making the class recite, "big N, small n.  N sounds like nnnnnn...  N is for nose." 

For unexplained reasons, Laum announced that Friday was a holiday.  We celebrated Cynthia's actual birth date with more cake and silly string.  Have I mentioned that silly string is a requirement at any celebration?  The more they manage to get on the recipient and the cake, the better. 

This poor little guy had no idea what was going on. 

Lost and Found

When I returned from Thailand, I was excited to visit Kim and her new baby.  I've driven to her mother's house only once before, but I took a wrong turn, became confused.  There are so many meandering paths in the village that I decided to ask for help.  I saw a group of school girls and had them to talk to Kim on the phone and explain where I was.  The girls called me "Cha" and knew me even though they attend another school that I'm not familiar with.  The girl asked me who was on the phone, and I said, "Kim Chann."  They knew her too.  Of course!  As a big city girl, I am continually surprised how everyone knows everybody else.  Mongkol Borei is a place where people are born, get married, and never leave. 

 

After the phone discussion, I still lacked specific directions, so I went to Thida's house and asked her to go with me.  Thida (pic. above) is one of my best friends.  I love her because she is always smiling and has a big heart.  Despite living in extreme poverty, she has such a generous spirit.  Her mother is a seamstress, and her father is a rice farmer.  She lives in their tiny shack with her sister and six cats (all of whom have names and are adored by the family).  Whenever I visit their house, they treat me like a queen.  Someone will pull over one of the three ancient, red plastic chairs and offer it to me.  Then, her sister will climb the tree and pick a bunch of Cambodian apples for me to eat.

 

Before we left, Thida inspected my attire and said, "Kerri, it's so hot!  Is that all you wear?"  I laughed and said, "Yeah, it is freakin' hot.  That's why I'm practically naked!"  Thida was wore pants, socks, shirt, sweater, coat, and gloves.  I will never understand how Cambodians can dress like this when it's above 80 degrees. 

On the way to Kim's house we hit a Cambodian traffic jam on the rutted, dirt road.  By this, I mean we got stuck between a three cows, a large wooden cart, and some children riding bicycles. 

In just a few weeks, Sey-hak has grown so much.  His eyes are open more, and he's more alert.  When I cradled him in my arms, he immediately tried to suck my nipple through my shirt.  Kim laughed talked to Thida in Khmer, but I understood what she was saying.  "Haha!  He likes her breast because it is so big!"

Kim's brother-in-law teaches a free class for some of the children in the area, and he asked me if I would teach class that day and focus on pronunciation.  Naturally, I felt obligated to do so.  He handed me a marker and told me class began in 5 minutes.  I asked what he wanted me to teach.  His answer, -  "simple words."  Great...  No curriculum.  No book.  No instructions.  It was like - "Hey, you're white.  You can do this."  I decided to wing it like I do most of the time at school anyway. 

On a side note: Kim's husband has left her.  She called me, crying, one night shortly after she gave birth.  She said, "After I have baby, he change."  Now, she lives with her parents and some other family members who help take care of her son.  I asked Kim if her husband came back, if she would be happy.  She shook her head and replied, "No.  I no want."

Meak Bochea Day

Meak Bochea is an important holiday celebrated by Buddhists in Cambodia, Thailand, and Laos.  It takes place on the full moon day of the third lunar month each year, and this year it fell on Valentine's Day.  The day pays tribute to a famous impromptu speech given by Buddha 2500 years ago in front of 1,250 monks.  Buddha explained the key aspects of Buddhism which include: doing good deeds, not harming people or the environment, and purifying the mind.  Remarkably, he also announced that he would die three months later on his birthday.  And he did.   

The holiday provides the opportunity for Buddhists to reflect on his teachings, make merit, and repent their sins.  People go to the pagodas, pray, and give food to the monks.  Cynthia and I visited our local temple where an enormous golden Buddha statue overlooks the village.  This monastery is the source of the Buddhist chanting I hear every morning beginning at 4:20 a.m.  They emit it over loudspeakers, so the entire town can enjoy the early morning wake-up call.

We climbed the long series of short, Cambodian-style steps which are lined with long blue nagas (snakes) along the railings.  Colorful prayer flags (strips of cloth) are strung alongside and flutter in the breeze.  

A natural cave in the mountainside houses a typical Buddhist shrine.  Lurking just beyond in adjacent caverns is eerie darkness and the ominous screeching of bats.

One room showcases dozens of scenes of Buddha's life.  My favorite is the image of his enlightenment under the Bodhi tree. 

Be Mine!

Valentine's Day is not a traditional Cambodian holiday, but with our continually merging global society, the locals here are starting to embrace it, particularly the younger generation who learn about it in school.  The students made cards and gave small gifts to their friends, family, and boy/girlfriends.  It's a popular night for couples to eat out at a restaurant as well.  Laum acted as our cupid and had Jom-Ron drive Cynthia, Chan-Rong, and me in the school bus to Sisophon for some fun.  We ate a delicious dinner at one of the local restaurants.  I had red curry, water greens, and rice. 

Afterwards, we went to a nightclub called the Golden Star.  Laum told Jom-Ron to park the bus somewhere else since the name of our school is painted in giant letters on both sides.  It's probably poor form to let the entire town know that the teachers are out partying on a school night. 

Every holiday here becomes a party, and this was no exception.  The club was surging with young Cambodians, mostly couples or guys in their 20's, obviously on the prowl for some ladies.  Along with the music and dancing, they held some contests and raffles.  There were some cash prizes as well as two diamond rings.  Chan-Rong said the rings were worth about $200 dollars (not bad for Cambodia). 

Cynthia and I were the only barangs, and the Cambodians seemed to find us amusing.  They wanted to dance near us, and the girls all said, "Hello!" when I went to the restroom.  Cynthia was a big hit on the dance floor, especially when she did some butt grinding with one of the young guys.  Everyone formed a big circle around them and encouraged this wild display by clapping. 

As we left the club, I noticed a cluster of scantily-clad young girls had planted themselves by the wall outside.  Although the sex industry in Mongkol Borei is present, they are much more discreet about it than in the big cities.  The girls often use some other guise to obtain their desired result such as acting as a "waitress," "cocktail server," "karaoke singer," etc.  This group of girls obviously had no other purpose than to wait around for potential clients to stumble out of the club, drunk and horny. 

Overall, this is one Valentine's Day that I will not forget.

Return of the Barang

All the guidebooks and internet posts describe the nightmare that is the Thailand-Cambodian border crossing.  The lines are long.  Organization is non-existent.  And scams are pervasive.  I took a minivan with five other people who were all headed to Siem Reap.  When we were about one kilometer away from the border, the driver forced everyone out, except me, because I told them beforehand that I already had a ride from Poipet.  The rest of the travelers then had to pay another driver to take them the rest of the way to the border.  They were pissed because they had paid to be taken to the border, not near the border.  This was just the beginning of the scams.

The driver dropped me off and told me to walk straight ahead.  It was total confusion with long lines of vehicles and various stations where foreigners were supposed to stop and show documents.  I didn't know where to go and basically just slipped past anyone who I knew would demand money from me for one false reason or another.  Luckily, the Immigration line where we showed our passports and Visas was not too long, and I only waited for about 15-20 minutes.  As I crossed the threshold into Cambodia, I saw a boy holding a sign with my name on it, and he led me to where Laum was waiting for my arrival. 

Since Laum knows the unwritten rules of quick passage, he was able to expedite the next passport check by bribing an "official."  He gave him my passport and $5.00.  As the guy walked off, Laum shrugged and said, "Money talks."  I'm not sure what the purpose of the next check was, but there were about 80 people standing uncomfortably in the heat.  It was like a line at Disneyland's most popular ride; only this ride was not a thrill.  Within five minutes, the "official" returned to Laum with my passport, and we breezed past the hordes of grim travelers. 

When my taxi arrived back at school, it took about four seconds before my 1st graders poured out of the classroom shouting, "Teacher Kerri!"  I was not prepared to disturb the ongoing classes or for this dramatic reception by my students, but I should have known better, because anything out of the ordinary is cause for utter chaos. 

After school, some of the children came by my apartment and helped me do laundry and put away my luggage.  One girl spent quite a while at my sink, just turning the faucet on and off to watch the water "magically" appear out of nowhere. 

My geckos must have missed me too because they serenaded me all night with their clicking.  They seem to have multiplied as well.  Word must have gotten out that my apartment is a cornucopia of tasty insects.

The malinche trees (also called flame trees) have burst into a magnificent display of color all around the village.  The striking orange blossoms are not only fragrant but make a pretty addition to my braid or pony tail.

Have I mentioned that I love, love, love my moto?  I never pictured myself riding a motorcycle or scooter, but I have to admit, it's totally liberating.  I like the feel of the wind whipping through my hair and having the option to weave around slow-moving trucks.  Plus, I look totally bad-ass.  (Confession:  I removed my dorky surgical mask which I always wear to keep the dust off my face for this pic.)

The "Lesser of Two Evils is Still Choosing Evil"

The two main political parties in Thailand are both democratic, but they have differing beliefs.  The current Prime Minister's family has been in power so long that its more like a monarchy than a democracy, and many people feel the voting process is rigged.  For months now, they have sought to overthrow the current government, and there have been daily protests.  Some of the main streets are blocked, so the people can demonstrate and voice their opinions.  The current Prime Minister offered to allow the people to have a new election, but from what I've heard the voting process is full of problems and inconsistencies such as vote-buying.  Also, it is widely believed that even with a new vote, the current Prime Minister, Yingluck Shinawatrawill, win again anyway. 

The atmosphere was more carnival-like than violent.  All the warnings about visiting Bangkok at the moment are quite unnecessary.  I certainly didn't see the police clashes that are portrayed in the newspapers.  I suppose the actual events are too boring to be newsworthy.

Although the protests are a nuisance for drivers particularly the taxi and tuk tuks, there certainly seems to be a boost to the economy with all the money the street vendors were raking in, selling their souvenirs and propoganda for the opposition party.

Interspersed between the music and general merrymaking, were some actual political speeches and prayers which were broadcast on several large screens with loudspeakers along the street.

My contribution to the protests was to share a banana pancake with Radek.  I'm sure the King would approve.

Snapshots of Bangkok

Pardon me, but would you happen to have anything with a picture of Buddha on it?

Would you like a ride on my moto.  I have special price for you - one small fish.

This is just to prove that I attempted to something semi-historical/cultural while in Bangkok.  True, I didn't actually go in the wat and took the picture from outside the wall.  But still....

I'll have a large dog on ice, please.

East Meets West

It's great to be totally immersed in an exotic local, but after awhile, I crave some conversation with people from the Western hemisphere who understand my cultural references, and I don't have to spend 10 minutes trying to explain a lame joke I made.  There were plenty of foreigners  and by that, I mean, non-Thai or Cambodians) around for me to converse with, and it took little prompting on their part for me to launch into long-winded monologues.  I felt like a crack addict who was getting her discussion fix.  There were even a couple feeble attempts on my part at flirting.  They did not go so well.  I was having a nice conversation with a guy who was obviously way younger than me, but hey, we were having a good chat.  Midway through, a guy leaned over and asked, "Is that your son?"  As a matter of fact, he could be, and thanks for pointing that out.  Great, I'm as much a laughing stock as the 70 year old men drooling over Thai prostitutes.

I was not the only one participating in a bit of flirtation.  The flesh trade is a booming industry in Thailand, and men from all over the world come here solely for the purpose of getting laid by someone who is way out of their league in their home country.  Take this couple for example.  I imagine their conversation was not something like this:  Man - "I find you very interesting and intelligent."  Woman - "I find money to be overrated, and you have a stunning personality."

Thailand is also famous for their "ladyboys" who are also sought after by foreign men.  They are easy to spot.  Although they may have breast implants, high heels, long hair, and a dress, it takes only a quick glance to determine something is off.  Perhaps it is the size of the hands, the broad shoulders, or my favorite, the protruding Adam's apple.  Lady boys also give themselves away by their overly effeminate behaviors.  They tend to dramatically sway their hips when they walk and giggle incessantly. 

One night, I was struggling to open my drink bottle that I purchased at 7-11, and after five grueling minutes, I decided to go up to the first big guy I saw and ask for help.  I walked up to a burly fellow and said, "Hey, you look strong.  Can you open this for me?"  He was quite willing to offer his assistance, and after completing the task, we chatted for a bit.  He turned out to be a very nice German named Radek, and we ended up hanging out for a couple days since he was travelling solo as well. 

 

"One Night in Bangkok and the World's your Oyster"

Bangkok was just as I remembered it from a few years ago:  small sois (streets) crowded with dread locked hippies wearing fisherman pants, neon lights, lady boys, music pumping day and night, massage parlors, culinary ecstasy for any taste bud, but most of all - the ideal location for complete and utter debauchery.  I stayed at a cute, modern guesthouse called The Green House (pictured above).  My room had a comfortable bed, AC, hot water, and a window.  There was a movie room, travel services, and an excellent restaurant.  I've sampled the falafel, soup, curry, potatoes, pizza, and salad.  That's "soft food" right?  During the hot part of the day, I curl up on the sofa and watch flicks such as: Jack Reacher, Forrest Gump, and The Holiday. 

Used bookstore are as ubiquitous as 7-11s, pharmacies, and currency exchange kiosks.  I found some good bargains including a travel book by Tim Cahill and a few more in the Bangkok Eight series.  It's nice to recuperate in the relative peace and quiet of my room, without nurses chasing me around asking about my bowel movements.  I remember that one time a nurse asked me how many c.c's I had peed that day.  Are you kidding me?  That's like asking how many jelly beans are in the fish bowl.  And what the hell is a c.c?

Each day, I feel healthier and stronger.  I take long walks around town, browsing the stalls selling clothing, wooden carvings, paintings, jewelry, etc.  The food vendors are everywhere, particularly at night, and they sling everything from pad thai, skewered meat, roasted squid (pic. above), corn on the cob, fruit smoothies, coconut ice cream (in the coconut shell), and bugs.  Lots of bugs!  The local favorites are grasshoppers, scorpions, and beetles.  I somehow ended up trying a bite of large black scorpion.  I wasn't sure where to begin, so I chomped down on a front claw.  It tasted pretty much how you would imagine - was crunchy and gross.

The tattoo parlors have amazing designs.  I fought the temptation and ended up getting a new belly ring instead.  I also bought some Western foods like cereal, pasta sauce, tortilla chips, instant soup, some dresses, and a fake Rolex watch.  Now, if I could just find a washer, dryer, microwave, and dishwasher, I would be all set.

 

My other exciting purchase was finding some undergarments.  I've been wearing the same five bras for the last four months, and let's just say that hand washing is not really doing the trick.  So, I found the bra stalls and was sifting through all the pathetically tiny Asian sizes when a lady said, "What size you wear?"  The sizes are different in Thai, so I just cupped by bodacious bosom, and she got the point.  She dug out a sack from underneath her stall, and pulled out some bras which could double as a parachute.  Perfect!  Of course, there was no way to try them on privately, so I just put one on over my shirt and sported it for everyone walking by.  I mentioned I could use some underwear, and she pulled out some matching panties and said, "Here.  Big!  For you." 

The last two nights, I have watched this Thai guy play guitar and sing.  He specializes in American classic rock, and he's really good.  He played The Doors, Jimi Hendrix, Don McLean, Neil Young, Ben E. King, Johnny Cash, even the Clash.  The live music scene is refreshing after listening to nothing but chanting monks, Khmer music, and screaming children.  I got a large  tattoo on my arm with birds and various designs.  Quit having a heart attack, Mom.  It's just henna.

I indulged in hot oil massage this afternoon.  You just can't beat an hour long massage for $9, especially when your masseuse is a good looking guy.  He began by crawling on top of me, tucking my panties into my butt crack, and giving my ass a good rubbing.  Hey, if that's where he wants to start, I'm not complaining.  He kept asking if the pressure was ok by saying, "Is this too hard?"  Me -stifling giggles.
 

How Many Times You Pee Pee?

It all started last Tuesday.  I ate some sketchy food twice in one day, thus began the deluge of diarrhea and constant vomiting.  Cynthia also experienced similar issues with our breakfast, so it was obviously food poisoning.  The vomiting continued, along with stomach pains the next day.  By the end of the day, I couldn't even keep down water.  I went to a clinic in Mongkol Borei where I'd been before (some guy's house).  He gave me some injections in the butt for the pain and pills for the nausea.  I returned twice more that day for more of the same.  During the last trip, I tried to make it to the bathroom, but ended up puking all over his floor, right in front of my friend, Chan-Rong, and his family who was eating dinner.  Sorry!

Laum arranged a taxi to take me to the Royal Angkor Hospital in Siem Reap.  I had to ask the taxi driver to pull over five times, so I could throw-up on the side of the road.  He was very kind.  He stood by me and rub my back each time.  They took x-rays, and a C.T. scan, and hooked up an I.V.  Meanwhile, they kept running over every few hours, asking me to give them more money because they would immediately stop treatment, if I didn't have the funds.  The nurse soon returned, and said they needed another C.T. Scan because the first one was not clear.  They asked me a bunch of questions about what led up to my illness.  The nurse got really uncomfotable at one point, put her head down shamefaced, and quietly said, "I'm sorry I have to ask.  Do you do street drugs?"  The doctor diagnosed me with food poisoning, enflamed pancreas, and a kidney stone.

The nurse stuck a tube into my nose which went down my throat into my stomach.  It made me gag, so I sat there gagging, puking, and trying to breathe for a couple hours.  Eventually, I was having a major panic attack and pulled it out, so I could have some relief for a bit.  I was crying and asked for a sedative or some pain medication that was stronger than Federol, which is basically Extra Strength Tylenol.  The doctor yelled at me and said, "You are uncooperative patient!  Why are you crying?  Only children cry.  You are sick in the head!"

After that, when I pressed the button to see a nurse, they ignored me.  One nurse accidentally walked into my room, and I whimpered, "Can you please help me?"  She took one look at me, turned on her heel, and walked out.  I was alone for hours, and couldn't get out of bed to use the bathroom because of the tubes.  They put a diaper on me which quickly soaked through, so I threw it on the floor, hoping they would get the hint that I could use another.  They didn't.  I decided I had to get out of there.  I called Cynthia and Laum and told them what was happening.  Cynthia arrived as soon as she could and slept on the couch that night which was a great comfort to me.  I couldn't sleep and don't think I would have made it through the night without her.

The next day, they arranged to move me by ambulance to Bangkok Hospital.  The first ambulance the second one at the border and they transferred me.  The road to the border was bumpy and took two hours.  Well, it took longer since we got a flat tire.  What a spectacle.  Villagers atarted appearing out of nowhere, and people on motos stopped to watch the action.  In typical Cambodian fashion, nobody offered to help.

The Thai ambulance took me the next three hours to the hospital.  The nurses were very sweet and actually gave me some pain killers for the bumpy road.  About an hour from the hospital, we were driving along pretty fast and suddenly came to a screeching halt.  It was slow motion surreal.  My gurney was facing the back, so I couldn't see what was ahead, but I could see the nurses' faces, and knew we were about to hit something.  It turned out to be the car in front of us.  It wasn't a bad crash, but enough to cause some damage.  It was silent for a few moments.  Not surprisingly, nobody got out of the cars to discuss the situation, we all just kept moving ahead.

I was admitted to Bangkok Hospital and waited in the I.C.U. until my room was ready.  I heard the nurses practicing how to say, "My name is..." outside the curtain.  A nurse came in and said, "My name is Chin.  Please lift your arm.  Thank you, sir."  Then, he tried to get a blood sample.  He poked me 14 times until he finally got it.  I don't think it helped that I kept laughing and saying "six, seve, eight..." aloud.  They put a tube down my throat and when I complained about gagging, a nurse squirted some numbing stuff on my throat which worked wonders.  Woh!  Where was this stuff at the other hospital?

My room was huge, modern, and very comfortable.  There was a couch, table and two chairs, large wall sized window, even a mini fridge and a microwave.  The nurses were kind and wore crisp white uniforms with old-fashioned triangle hats pinned to their heads.  They were very attentive those first few days, always giving me medication when I requested it.  One nurse kept asking me if I wanted a bath.  Either I really stunk, or she just had to make sure she had done here job.

My doctor was nice and and told me that the two C.T. scans from the previous hospital were totally unreadable and wanted another one.  Since I was feeling much better, I said no.  She said I was also suffering from exhaustion (from anxiety) and told me to rest, drink water with electrolytes, and take the pills they gave me.

The nurses came in every three hours to take my temperature, blood pressure, and ask, "How many times you pee pee and poo poo?"  It's not like I was counting, so I always just made up a number.  After a few days, they gave me clear broth soup and juice.  The broth was disgusting, but I drank the juice.

One night, I woke up with a pain in my arm and when I turned on the light, I was shocked.  My arm had swelled up like a balloon.  It was huge and hard!  I called the nurse, and she removed the I.V. saying that the fluid had leaked into my arm.  It returned to normal size a couple days later.

The hot showers and comfortable bed were nice, but it does get boring being stuck in the hospital after a week.  Here are some things to do when you get bored:

1.  Count the seconds between each drop of saline being squirted into your bloodstream.  (8 seconds)
2.  Oragnize the patient library by author, genre, and language.
3.  Visit other foreigners and see who has the most interesting story.  (The guy who fell off his hammock and injured his neck.)
4.  Order room service for the gecko on your wall.
5.  Add notes to the room whiteboard. (For ex:  Under - Goals for the Day, write "Meet sexy doctor."

One night I had just pressed the nurse button when four nurses rushed in.  Wow, that was quick!  I was so impressed with their quick response, and was considering myself quite the important patient.  I told them I wanted a cold compress for my head  They said, "O.K....But um, did you scream?"  Ohhhhhh.  I replied, "No, but I heard it.  It was another person."  Giant ego = deflated.

After I ate my first couple meals with soft food, I got diarrhea.  Later the nurse asked, "Is your poo poo same same?"  Sadly, I knew exactly what whe meant.

During my last couple days in the hospital, the nurses stopped coming by, they often wouldn't come when I pressed the nurse button, and wouldn't give me simple things.  At 6 o'clock in the morning, I requested Immodium and extra strangth Tylenol from a nurse.  I waited, asked three more nurses, and waited some more.  It took them 7 hours to produce the medication.  I was miserable and uncomfortable.  I asked a nurse to release me.  She laughed and said, "Oh, you think you can go.  You have diarrhea."

I explained the situation to a hospital liason, and she helped get me released and made reservations at a hostel for me.  I took a taxi the 15 minute drive there.  When I got in the car, I told him to put the taximeter on, but he said he didn't use it.  He said, "How much you pay?"  I laughed and said, "No, how much do you want?  Tell me now, or I'm getting out of the car."  He said, "250 baht."  I said, " 200 baht."  We haggled, but I got my price which I knew was fair.  On the way, we chatted.  When I told him I was from Arizona, he said, "Oh Arizona.  John Wayne!" and sang the theme song.  He asked how much I got paid to teach in Cambodia.  When I told him, he laughed and said, "No!  You kidding!"  I said I wish I was and explained that it's a school for poor children.  He went on about how nice that was.  When I was getting out of the car and paid him, he actually gave me 20 baht back.  Wow!  That has never happened before.

I'm now staying at a little dive on Khao San Road.  It has A.C., a private bathroom, and is fairly quiet.  I am dining on water, electrolytes, and a plethora of pills for today.  Tomorrow, I will venture onto soft foods.