My Starfish

                      

                    
This is my starfish.  She is in first grade and one of our poorest students.  I know this because her shack is down the path from the school, directly across from a stinking hog farm.  Her one school shirt is filthy because they can only afford the cheap soap.  When I see her playing at home, she simply wears shorts and no shirt, probably because she only owns 2 or 3.  She gets a "bath" once a week by standing naked outside her house while her mother pours a bucket of water over her head.

Even in the poorest region of Cambodia, there is socio-economic status.  Everyone knows who has more money.  It's obvious.  Some children come to school with a backpack, new shoes, wear jewelry, and have clean clothes.  Some even bring spending money to buy treats at the snack bar.  Starfish doesn't have any friends, likely due to her poverty and extreme shyness.

In class, she is embarrassed because she knows she learns slowly and differently than the other children.  She's left-handed, and I have a suspicion that she is dyslexic but am not sure.   While the other students have all mastered writing the English alphabet, she still struggles.  Her letters are all different shapes and sizes, sometimes backwards.  She writes very slowly and has refused to ask for help.  One time, I noticed her crappy nub of a pencil had broken, and she was trying to hold the tiny broken piece of lead in her hand to write.  She seemed surprised when I walked over and sharpened her pencil for her.

Often, when I have scanned the classroom to see if anyone needs assistance or re-direction, I would see her, looking at me, hands frozen, smiling shyly, and looking confused.  I can tell she wants to learn.  She tries very hard.  Every day, I make a point to spend a few minutes of time to offer her intense individual guidance.

Last week, I rummaged through my apartment and filled a bag with some random items I didn't need:  a notebook, some pencils, an eraser, a pencil sharpener, chalk, a few stickers, and 1,000 riel (25 cents).  She looked absolutely shocked when I gave it to her.  The next day, she gave me a hug, which she had never done before.  Her demeanor in class has changed dramatically as well.  Now, she confidently holds up her paper to show me her work and participates. Today, during reading practice, I made a big deal about how great she was doing in front of the whole class.  She totally beamed.

Language "arts"

"Can't you see that I'm busy coloring right now?  Get that camera out of my face, you stupid barang."

"I'm cute, and I know it."

"Hold my calls.  I'm trying to concentrate right now."

Attn: Websters Dictionary

I invented a new word today.  Insectist: (noun)  One who holds prejudice and discrimination toward insects based on their appearance or lifestyle.  The judgments are culturally influenced by stereotypes of a particular region. 

I must admit it.  My name is Kerri, and I am an insectist.  I am content to live with geckos, spiders, moths, praying mantis, and caterpillars.  However, other species must be either evicted, exiled, or put to death, depending on the level of their ugliness and/or annoyance.

Bug sentences by Judge Kerri:
-Roaches = Immediate and gruesome death penalty by flip flop.
-Ant = Depending on the size of the ant gang, either death penalty by finger squishing or a slow death by toxic fumes.
-Mosquito = Death by hand clap.

Today, I discovered what I believe was a 4-5 inch long grasshopper on steroids hanging out on my curtain.  Although he was kind of creepy, I sentenced him to banishment.  Since I'm kind of a wuss, I couldn't do it myself.  I ran up to Socheata, and started babbling words in Khmer like, "big bug, apartment, help..."  He followed the deranged American, and laughed when I pointed to the insect and motioned that I wanted him to grab it and take it outside.  He quickly cupped it in his hands, walked outside, and flipped it on the grass.    

"Hello, I Love You, Won't You" Turn on Again

I slept naked last night.  It's not what you think.  There have been several power outages all week, for hours at a time.  Yesterday, I had just turned on my electric stove to make spaghetti when the electricity went off.  This was 4 pm.  All I had eaten that day was a mango, and I was really looking forward to some pasta. 

My apartment quickly became an oven.  I looked for the bus driver, but he was off campus.  I called Laum - repeatedly - every half hour, but he didn't answer.  The minutes ticked by.  The sweat poured off me.  At 5:30, I opened the windows I the hopes that the non-existent breeze would drift in.  The only result was that a dozen flies swooped in and took up residence in my bathroom.

I tried reading and writing by candlelight like some peasant in the 1700's.  I finally gave up and lay motionless on in bed for a couple hours, hungry, sweating, an feeling quite sorry for myself.  When I finally couldn't stand it anymore, I took a sleeping pill and nodded off.  My phone woke me at 9 pm.  It was Laum.  After giving me some excuse about why he didn't answer before, I said, "Laum, the power is off, and it's really hot!"  (The high was 98 that day).  He told me to go outside to the electrical box and press a knob.  I did.  The power was immediately restored.

Are you kidding me?  I just sweltered in a sauna for five hours when all I had to do was flip a switch?  Why am I even surprised?  Of course, no one would bother to tell me about this magical button.  This is not their problem.  Cambodians don't have A.C.  They don't even sweat.  Some of the kids still wear sweaters all day long.  They run around for an hour after lunch in the wretched heat while I slink off to my apartment, insert ear plugs, and take a nap in a climate controlled environment.

Caught Green Handed

Look at what cha made me do.  I don't understand her.  "Barang ch-goo-ut (crazy)!"

These are children who have never used paint or water colors in school.  Getting messy while learning is a brand new concept.  Rote recitation and copying things from the chalk board are the norm here.  It's not the other teachers' fault.  They are just doing as they have learned.

I don't think my 1st graders will forget the day cha taught them about "2 Hands." 

There are, as well, many unforgettable teaching moments for me in 1st grade.  For example, one day, I was explaining something of great import (naturally), and one of my boys wasn't paying attention.  This was not surprising since he is usually screwing around with something, which I have to take away and then stand by his desk for several minutes until he starts listening.  On this particular day, he was examining a blue item and was peering through it like a telescope.  To my horror, I realized that it was a plastic tampon applicator.  Not just any applicator, but one of MINE.  I knew this because Cambodian women use pads, and it was MY brand which I brought along from the U.S.  Of course, he had no idea that  I had recently inserted it into my vagina and was having a grand time checking out his new toy.  I calmly walked over, took it from him, ran to my apartment next door, and threw it inside.

I'm sure you are now wondering how this object came into his possession.  Well, it's simple.  I put my garbage in bags and throw them in our trash pile outside by the pond.  There must have been some food in the bag too, and a dog ripped it open, causing the contents to scatter.  This boy likely saw it and thought, "Hey, this is cool.  I wonder what it is?"

Brown Girls Can Jump

A favorite game for the girls is a version of Chinese jump rope.  They take rubber bands and link them together to form a long chain.  Two girls will hold the "rope" taught.  They start with it low, and slowly raise it a little higher each round.  Sometimes they hold the rope wide and sometimes narrow. 

The other girls take turns trying to jump over the rope.  There are no rules on how to jump over it, so the girls use various methods, often depending on how high the rope is.  Half  the time, they would probably make it over, but their skirts get stuck on it.  I don't know if they are too modest to just lift us their skirts a little or what. 

I've included an instructional video that shows the basics of traditional Chinese jump rope.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gJuELrFOyXU

Morning Glory

 

 

 

 

The Cambodians call this dish water greens.  When I researched for recipes on the internet, I couldn't find anything with that name.  I then looked many Cambodian vegetarian recipes, and found the water greens.  They are actually called morning glory or water spinach. I guess water greens is just the colloquial term.  They cost 12 cent per bunch, (enough for one person)  I modified to recipe to fit my particular tastes. 

 

  Stir-Fried Morning Glory

      pad pak boong fai daeng

 

Ingredients:

20 stems morning glory (also called water spinach)

4 sliced garlic cloves

3-5 Tbs. vegetable oil

2-3 Thai chilies (or any similar chili), cut into fourths pieces and mash              

1 tsp. salted bean paste/sauce  (ex: soybean sauce)

1 Tbs. oyster sauce  (other options include: vegetarian oyster sauce or vegetarian stir-fry sauce)

1 Tbs. water                                      

1-2 tsp. sugar

 

Directions:

Cut the chilies into bite-size pieces and smash slightly with a knife.  Slice the garlic into thin pieces.  Set aside.  Wash the water spinach, and shake it dry.  Cut off and discard the thickest bottom portion (about 3 inches).  Cut off the leaves but leave on the leaf stems.  Leave the top 2 or 3 leaves on.  Cut the remaining stalk and stems into 3-4 inch pieces.  

Heat your wok on HIGH.  If it’s not hot, the vegetables will cook too slowly and taste poorly.  If you’re using an electric stove, leave the stove on high for about 3-5 minutes with the pan full of oil.  This should get it as hot as necessary.  The oil should smoke and splatter a bit.

 

Toss the morning glory in the pan, flip, and spread them around for about 30 seconds.  They will sizzle.  Add water, oyster sauce, bean sauce, and sugar, and stir for 2-3 minutes.  Add garlic and chilies.  Stir about 30 seconds.  The morning glory are done when the stems are medium green, and they are not too soggy.                                 

 

Serves: 1                                                                       

Score!

The children wanted a volleyball net at school, so a couple months ago, we got Hans' approval to build one on the grass.  Laum immediately bought the poles, net, and ball, but then had to tend to other priorities like: sleeping in, not coming to school, and hiring incompetent contractors to create a computer lab, so it took a while to get this project completed.

Anyway, the students love their new play space.  They had such a good time during lunch.  It was nice to see them so happy and active.

Later on, I walked out onto my front porch and watched a student making a cement volcano.  Laum wanted to pour it into the holes, so the poles would stay in place during the rainy season.  There was quite a bit of cement left over, so the boy haphazardly smoothed it out with his trowel.  When I showed Cynthia, she said, "Well, he could have leveled it out!"  I laughed and said, "He did." 

*Cambodia's unofficial motto is: "It's good enough."

Somebody left their handprint in the wet cement.  Obviously, this person is extremely immature.  I have no idea who it could be. 

Just Hanging Out

There are many varieties of geckos.  Some are larger and more beautiful,  but I live with the house geckos.  I always have several in my apartment, and when they emerge at night, they spend most of their time near the window and A.C. unit where bugs crawl enter.  Despite being free exterminators, they are cute and fun to watch as they eat, fight, or mate.  They make clicking noises, sort of like a cricket, but more of a click than a chirp. 

Field Day Cambodian Style

 

I have been teaching about vehicles in 1st grade like: motorobike, airplane, car, boat, bus.  To make things more interesting, I initiated an airplane contest.  Some students already knew how to make one, but I demonstrated a design that is easy to fold and the planes can go far.  I told the students to write their names on them and line up outside.  They each got a turn, and I marked each landing with a chalk line, labeling those who  went the furthest.  The length of flight ranged between 4 feet and 25 feet.  There were two clear winners in both my 2nd grade classes who beat the others by a landslide. 

All the tall boys thought they would excel at this contest.  However, I was pleased to see two of the smallest boys won in each class.  Ayuthhea won in 2B, and Vunkun won in 2A.  I made a big deal about how skilled they were, and we clapped for them.  It's nice to see the underdogs win. 
                          
I usually coordinate at least two games per week in my 7the grade class.  Since we had been studying nature, I put them in groups and sent them on a Scavenger Hunt around campus to find such item as:

1.  pink flower
2.  a rock
3.  yellow leaf
4.  stalk for rice from field
5.  seeds
6.  some grass
7.  a shell
8.  2 empty water bottles

This is a photo of group #3, the winnerss

Come One! Come all!

My phone rang very early on Sunday morning from an unknown number.  When I answered, I heard a girl's voice say, "Hello Kerri!  Do you know who this is?"  Oh great...I got out of bed for this?  "It's Sokun-thea."  I replied, "Oh, hi, Sokun-thea!  How are you?"  I still had no idea who she was but figured we must have been introduced at one time and she now considers us good friends.  It's so hard being famous sometimes.

She invited me to go to the opening ceremony at a new pagoda.  I was tired from all the wedding events, doing laundry, and scrubbing my bathroom floor by hand, on my knees, with a bristled scrubber, but it's hard to say no.  I always figure that I should accept any new experience that is offered to me. 

I asked if I should wear a white shirt which is the customary attire for a religious ceremony.  She said, "Oh yes, of course."  Then, she told me to bring eight 100 riel notes (about 20 cents in American money) which I would distribute at the pagoda. 

We arranged to meet at Thida's house.  When I arrived, Thida asked if I brought the money.  I said yes.  She a inquired where I got them, and I told her a store.  She looked really dubious, so I pulled out my wallet and showed her my bills.

Thida - "No, Kerri!  They have to be new." 
Me - "Oh.  I didn't know."
Thida - "We exchange them for new ones."
Me - "Does it really matter?  They're the same thing."
Thida - "No.  We use new because the temple is new, not old."
Me - "Can't I just use these?  Are the monks going to be mad?"
Thida - "We exchange them."
*End of discussion.

At this point, I still didn't have a clear idea on what was about to transpire.  I just follow along and do as I'm told.  It's easier than trying to ask too many questions like: "Where are we going next?  How long will this take?  Why have we been standing here for 20 minutes for no reason?" 

We went to Chan-ta's house to gather a few more people.  Pisey, my 1st grader, showed me on of their new puppies.  Then, we stopped at Ramy Bookstore where we bought some school supplies which we would also gives offerings at the pagoda.  I followed Chan-ta around and got what she did: notebook, pen, pencil.  She asked, "Where are the rubbers?"  I knew she meant erasers and totally wanted to make a joke about how monks don't need them, but restrained myself. 

The pagoda was beautiful and looked just like the others around here.  Thida explained that they have to build 7 pagodas in each village because that symbolizes prosperity.  There are so many rules and rituals when it comes to Buddhism, and they mostly relate to some ancient superstition.  I try to follow by example and not make an ass out of myself, but naturally, I usually do. 

Thida gave me a bunch of incense sticks that I was supposed to light on this gigantic candle burning in front of the temple.  I was trying to hurry because there was a line of people behind me.  I  ended up charring the sticks, without actually getting them lit, and accidentally dipped them on the candle wax, so they became a sticky mess.  Finally, Thida grabbed them out of my hand and did it herself.  She said, "Don't you use incense to pray in your country?"  I was like, "No man, we sit on a bench, listen to the pastor talk for a while, and then go outside to drink coffee."  

We removed our shoes and walked around the pagoda, stopping at eight stations to perform the same ritual.  Pray, throw a bill in the hole, put an incense stick in a sand filled pot, sprinkle water on this gravestone-looking thing with a palm frond.  Everyone laughed at me while I tenderly walked on the sharp rocks surrounding the pagoda.  "Kerri, your feet hurt?"  No, I love walking barefoot on gravel.

Notice that no one else wore a white shirt.  Just saying...

I asked why there was a big spider web made of cloth strung across the ceiling.  Chan-ta said that after the celebration, they cut it into pieces and give it to people to wear on their wrists or hand in their house or place of business.  It is supposed to bring good luck. 

After all the rituals, we walked behind the pagoda, and I was shocked at the carnival atmosphere.  There were food vendors, stalls selling toys, balloons, candy, etc.  They even had a rickety ferris wheel and a couple other rides for children.  It finally dawned on me why the place was packed.  This was not just about the opening of a new temple.  This was a giant party.  As the evening wore on, it started to get rowdy.  Men were drinking beer and playing games like throwing balls at cans in an effort to win a stuffed animal.  I bought some fried dough balls with sesame seeds and called it a day.

Soldier - "I can't wait until all these people leave, so I can go home."
Monk 1 - "Tell me about it.  I gotta get up at 4:00 am, so I can chant for two hours."
Monk 2 - "Hey, you guys want some fried grasshoppers?"

The Brides of March

OK, you have to be a Shakespeare geek to get the title pun, but I couldn't help myself.  If you want to understand the joke, just refer to the play, Julius Caesar. 

3 days.  1 videographer.  5 celebratory meals.  15 bridal gowns.  150 photos.  200 pounds of fruit.  400 guests.  And 6 lady boys.  That's all it takes to pull off a Cambodian wedding.  The astonishing part is that all the plans take place in a matter of weeks since engagements only last a month or two. 

 

The wedding ceremony took place on Friday morning.  We began with the procession of guests walking down the street, carrying bowls of fruit to the wedding site, in this case, the bride's house.  Then, we sat in chairs under a tent to watch the ritual.  I thought the weddings would be more religious, but they are almost completely devoid of Buddhist rituals and seem more influenced by Khmer culture and tradition.  The actual marriage takes place in a matter of minutes.  The rest of the time, there are two emcees (a male and a female) who talk forever, trying to make witty banter like they are on a variety show or something.  It's really weird. 

 

Instead of a flower girl, they have a young boy and girl who walk down the aisle with wicker baskets and fill them with pieces of fruit from the guests which they then present to the bride and groom's parents.  The children always look petrified and can't wait to go sit back down.  After the ceremony, the guests make a big pile of the fruit.  Sometimes, they serve some of it to the guests as desert after the meal.  I don't know what happens to the rest of it.  It's obviously more than two families can eat before it rots.  Perhaps, they give it to friends or donate it.

Cambodians are notorious for arriving late to functions, so I purposely showed up a half hour late to the dinner on Friday.  I went alone since Cynthia didn't want to go.  As soon as I walked in, I knew I had made a big mistake. There were only a dozen people, all family members, sitting quietly together at two tables.  Not a single teacher was present.  There were no drinks, food, music, or anything.  Clearly, the party was not going to start for a while.  I stood there awkwardly for a minute, weighing my options:  I could just sit down at a table by myself, just leave for a while, or call Laum and tell him to get his butt over there. 
                           
To my relief, the mother-in-law saw my distress, came over, grabbed my arm, and ushered me upstairs to Mea-Lea's room where she was getting her hair and make-up done.  She welcomed me in and offered to have one of the lady-boys do my hair, but I was content to just sit there and watch the process.  I was pleased to see that Sisophon is a big enough town to have a population of gays and transsexuals who are not afraid to "come out."  I have been wondering about that for a while since there are a couple boys at school who are going to have to face these issues in their future.
                           
The lady boys were not only wizards with hair and make-up, they were fun and friendly.  Since there were six, sometimes they didn't have anything to do, and I watched them amuse themselves.  One guy danced around the room like the female Thai dancers.  Another one took a photo of me and him on is phone, giggled wildly, and immediately posted it on his facebook page.  I think they were as interested in me as I was by me as I was by them.  This one must have started taking hormones because she had tiny budding beasts.  She used her free time to create a facial moisturizing mask with thin banana slices.
                           
One of my favorite students was in the wedding party, and she wore a different dress each day.  They were pretty, sparkly, fairy dresses.  Since they rent all the dresses, they don't fit exactly.  This one was a size or two too big for her, so she kept tugging up the top.

Mea-Lea looked stunning in all her gowns, but I liked her traditional purple dress the most.  The groom and groomsmen wore matching suits that were the same color, only a shade lighter, so they too had also had many clothing changes:  from white, to pale yellow, to baby blue, to lavender, etc.

The groom's parents pay for the weddings; it's called the "bride price."  Mea-Lea dated her husband for years, and they really seem in love.  Her mother-in-law initially did approve of her because the groom's family is Chinese, and Mea-Lea is Cambodian.  The Chinese, in general, often have more money and consider themselves higher class than the Cambodians.  I guess she finally accepted Mea-Lea because before a couple can get married they both have to get approval from their parents. 

The dinner celebration on Saturday was the most fun.  It took place at a huge outdoor restaurant that was covered on top.  There was a live band who started the evening with a few American songs such as Black Magic Woman, but then continued with traditional Khmer wedding music.  I took part in the dance around the table.  The food was good and plentiful.  Mea-Lea made sure they brought me a special vegetarian dish with noodles and vegetables. 

Painting the Village Red

A few of the usual village children came over today, and at first they were rapidly speaking Khmer and pointing.  All I ould understand was the word, "clothes."  At their insistence, I went outside to investigate and saw my rack with clothes drying in the sun had fallen over.  After fixing it, we went inside. 

In preparation for Mea-Lea's wedding, I painted my nails and toenails fire engine red and applied a couple flower stickers as an added touch.  The girls immediately noticed that I had French braided my hair and had new nail polish.  They indicated they wanted their nails painted too.  I showed them my assortment of colors and stickers, but they both chose the exact same color and stickers as me. 

Daily Life

The first graders were thrilled to make the letter X with paper and crayons.  We practiced pronouncing all the x sounds which are really confusing when you think about it, and the words with x always sound different.  X-ray.  Xylophone.  Excellent. Xerox...  W.T.F.?  No wonder they that trouble with it.  That's why we spent most of our time coloring.

One of my third graders made a hula-hoop out of a piece of bamboo and tape.  It functioned surprisingly well.  The poor can be so inventive.

I  have a book shelf and bag of toys in my apartment which the children know they are free to play with.  They discovered the Connect Four game I bought recently in Thailand and after a couple demonstrations, they caught on and could play each other.  It was fun to watch them learn to strategize and anticipate the other player's next move. 

When I walk through the village, the children stare, wave, say hello, or follow me.  I have a special tradition with one of my first graders.  When we see each other from afar, we yell each other's name and run up to one another for a dramatic hug.   

Goan-Ngaa (Babies)

I went to see Kim and Sey-Hak, who she sometimes calls Daniel (after a Phillipino actor).  It's fun to play mom...for about an hour.  Then, I am ready to relinquish the child to someone much more responsible than me. 

The picture is a little blurry because Kim's mother took it.  It was the first time she had ever used a camera.  I turned it on and showed her how to push the button.  At first, she tried to take the picture backwards.  On her second attempt, she got about half of us in the frame.  The third time was the charm.  It was really cute to watch this toothless, old woman get the hang of it.

I noticed a green string tied loosely around his waist and asked Kim what it was for.  She said, "To make him equal."  As you would expect, this only led to more questions.  "What do you mean equal?"  She showed me how he had a big belly and torso and a small butt.  I asked if Cambodian women like men with big butts.  She said no; she wanted his whole body to be the same size.  I began to explain that there was nothing wrong with him and this is how all babies look, but I stopped myself.  There was no way that I was going to dispel a Cambodian myth that has likely been going on for centuries, in a matter of a few minutes.  Plus, it wasn't like the string was doing any harm.  Just when I think I've heard it all in regards to superstitions, magic, and ghosts, I learn of something else that again reminds me that I'm am not living in the Information Age.

Kim offered to apply my make-up for Mea-Lea's wedding this weekend.  I told her that I bought some make-up and was getting really good at doing it myself.  She looked skeptical. 

*I noticed Kim wasn't wearing her wedding ring, and asked her about her husband.  She still hasn't told anyone outside of her family and me that he left her.  He is living in Battambang with a friend and will return to Thailand at some point to continue working.  She said they talk on the phone sometimes.  I wondered if he ever asked about his son.  She said no.

Sokhom and his wife stopped by while I was there.  They brought their son, Mannkhan, who is 5 months old.  He is a happy chubby baby who likes to stick his tongue out and make bubbles.   

Images from Siem Reap

People love it or hate it.  There is little in between when it comes to the durian fruit (pronounced too-rain in Khmer).  They look prehistoric and don't taste like your typical sweet, juicy fruit.  You slash them open with a butcher knife and hack out the yellowish, egg-shaped chunks.  They taste like a rich custard, have the texture of mango, and smell like dirty socks. 
*Fun fact:  People are killed every year by durian falling off trees.

Lotus flowers can be eaten raw, just before they bloom.  They taste best on the very day they were picked.  All the parts can be eaten, the roots, flower, etc.  Most people buy them in this form.  It takes a bit of work to pick out each individual seed, and although they don't contain a lot of flavor, they make a cheap, healthy, and convenient snack.

I packed light with the plan to fill up my backpack with rarities from the Western Grocery stores.  I purchased, among other things, two boxes of cereal, pasta sauce, Pop Tarts, a nail buffer, and Cambodia's version of 409.  When I discovered boxes of Mac n' Cheese, I almost caused an International incident by wildly tossing boxes in my basket with noodles of all shapes: shells, dinosaurs, spirals...  At the register, I said, " Hi, I'm Kerri.  I'm a cheese addict." 

"Squeak...Squeak...Squeak!"  In the U.S., this sound would arouse all the dogs in the area.  Yet, in Cambodia, the purpose is much different.  Ladies walk along the streets with their carts and squeak their dog toys.  This alerts the restaurant owners to bring out their bags of aluminum cans.  The squeak ladies then takes them to a recycling plant in exchange for money.  Part of their proceeds go back to the restaurant owners for taking the time to separate them. 

Another Excuse for a Holiday

We had a three day weekend at school to honor International Women's Day.  Yes, I know that it fell on a Saturday.  Why did we take Monday off?  Well, two reasons.  One, this is Cambodia.  Two, we are not a state school, so we can do whatever we want.  In addition, after last week's grueling three-day work week, the staff could really use some time to rest. 

Cynthia and I went to Siem Reap to conduct some "work related" business.  At least this is what we told everyone.  Hans gave us some money to buy books written in English for the library.  Nothing like that is available in our village, so naturally, we just had to take a weekend trip.

Since we came all the way here, it only made sense to eat some pizza, get massages, go shopping, do a little sight-seeing...  We just wanted to help boost the local economy and further our cultural knowledge, of course.

Siem Reap is probably the most popular town in Cambodia.  In fact, the only reason people come to this country is to visit Angkor Wat, and since Siem Reap is the nearest town, everyone uses it as their hub for exploring the ruins which can take several days.  The town caters to foreigners and has a vast array of restaurants and shops.  It's safe too.  As you can see, there is a clear police presence. 

This is my room at the Ladybug Guesthouse.  For $10 a night, I got a private bathroom, a fan, free wifi, and it was surprisingly clean. The crown molding and lavender painted walls added a touch of elegance.  The best part was that my room was located on the bottom floor (virtually unheard of), so I didn't have to walk up four flights of stairs to reach it. 

 

Cynthia and I decided to get full body oil massages.  I randomly chose this place that offered an hour long $6 oil massage.  I should have been more suspicious, given we were the only females, and there was a full bar in the entrance.  But, in my ignorance and quest for bliss, my only consideration was that it was $2-3 cheaper than all the other parlors.  The place looked kind of sketchy from the beginning.  It didn't have a name, and the massage rooms were located on the top floor of a restaurant.  All the windows were covered with closed black curtains.  Certainly, all the clues were there, and I should have been more prepared as we made our way up the stairs.

 

On the top floor, there were several private rooms, but they were all occupied, so I was taken the series of beds with curtains between them.  While I was got undressed, I heard the female masseuse on the other side of the curtain encouraging her male customer to select a few add-on services.  He declined.  She purred, giggled, and tried her best, but he ended up leaving after his boring, regular massage.

 

I had a male masseur.  He was a nice, young Cambodian guy.  We chatted a bit.  He practiced his English while I practiced my Khmer.  The massage started out fairly normally.  However, it quickly became apparent that his goal was not primarily to work out the knots in my muscles.  Things stated getting weirder when I flipped on my back, and he began asking me personal questions while he rubbed my stomach.  He told me I was beautiful, which I ignored because I figured he was angling for a big tip. 

 

At this point, I was lying there in my panties, with the towel covering only my breasts.  Suddenly, he pointed at the towel and made a massage motion with his hands.  Clearly, he was asking if it was ok to rub my boobs.  I know this is common practice in some Asian countries, but I have never personally experienced it.  It took me about half a second to indicate I would permit this.  As a visitor to this foreign country, I merely wanted to get the full cultural experience.  Plus, what better way to honor International Women's Day? 

 

He massaged my breasts for a full ten minutes, making sure to lather them up good with oil.  It was so hard not to laugh.  I kept telling myself to act normal and pretend like this happens all the time.  When he concluded my mammary massage, he told me his name was Tra, and that I should come back again tomorrow and ask for him.

 

After we left, Cynthia told me her massage was great and her girl had great technique, massaged her muscles and pressure points and such.  I gaped at her and said, "Uh...we had very different massages.  I think I just paid for a sexual act."

International Women's Day

"What would men be without women?  Scarce, sir, mighty scarce."
                                           
                                           - Mark Twain
 

Wanna See my Van?

Friday was letter V day.  For some reason, I thought we were on letter P, and when I started writing it on the board, all my first graders bellowed, "Cha!  No!," and held up their notebooks to show me that we had just covered letter U yesterday.  Oh.  Whoops.  I was all set to talk about pigs.  I had an animal book and everything.  Anyway, thank goodness I have that MEd in Curriculum & Instruction because I was  immediately able to improvise a new lesson. 

 

V.  Big V.  Small v.  V sounds like vvvvvv.  V is for Van.  And not just any van.  We are talking a groovy, 1970's, Scooby Doo, psychedelic, Volkswagen bus with curtains in the window.  You can't tell in the picture, but there is a bumper sticker that says, "Arms are for Hugging," and the backseat has been stripped out, and there is a bed with velvet pillows, a hookah, and a bunch of Grateful Dead bootlegs scattered about. 

The students took their pictures very seriously.  Some came closer to the board to make sure they were creating an accurate portrayal of my van.

When the students are finished, every single one of them has to show me their completed task.  I used to just nod or say, "Good."  Now, I use different expressions like, "Great or Nice."  Their favorite one is, "Wow."  For some reason, they really like that word.  They get all excited and run back to their desk, repeating, "Wow!" 

The Feast Continues

On Thurday, the second day of the wedding, all the teachers went to a luncheon to eat and dance.  I ate lots of veggies and took part in the standard dance around the table.  I really like Pirot, the groom.  He's, by far, the funniest teacher at school, and his laugh is infectious.  Bop isn't smiling because she's still embarrassed about her two missing front teeth.  She is supposed to get them replaced in a couple months.  In the mean time, she has been holding her hand over her mouth when she talks. 

The wedding couples always get a bunch of red strings tied to their wrists during the ceremony.  They represent good luck.

Chen-da looked beautiful in her gown and jewels.  She always looks so plain at school; she was glowing with happiness.

Go ahead.  Laugh at my selfie.  I followed Thida's instructions and applied some impressive purple eye-shadow and wore the breathtaking rhinestone broach that Kim gave me for Christmas.  I was a big hit.