Things Cambodians Do

-After saying hello, the next question is always, "Have you eaten yet?"
-Ask you how much money you spent on everything you own.
-Show up at your door with a bunch of eggs or mangoes, just because.
-Make peace signs in every photograph.
-Tell you that their unborn child is going to be a boy and a doctor.
-Are terrified of ghosts.
-Hold hands or link arms while walking with their friends.
-Think sunglasses are only for people who are blind or a superstar.
-When it's 78 degrees, they wear pants, socks, a turtleneck, sweater, coat, and mittens.  Then, they ask, "Aren't you cold?"
-Cover their mouth with their hand while talking.
-Ask you how much you weigh.
-Point out when you have gained weight.
-Ask you your age.
-Ask how much money you earn.
-Give out your phone number to people you were introduced to once.
-Try to befriend everyone on Facebook.
-Think white skin and long noses are beautiful.
-Refuse to wear a bathing suit.
-Are scared to swim in the ocean.
-Drive a moto with up to 6 passengers.
-Sleep on beds without mattresses. 
-Think toilet paper is weird.
-Wear pajamas as day clothes.
-Wash hands, bathe, and wash dishes without soap.
-Throw all their trash on the ground when there is a trash bin one foot away.
-Drop word endings with words like: ice, price, house, lunch, etc.
-Continuously, keep your glass full to the brim with "i."
-Immediately, offer you are chair if you are expected to stand in a store or house for more than 10 seconds - because white people are extremely fragile.
-Bring uninvited guests to parties.
-Eat rice with every single meal.
-Refuse to mix rice with the rest of the meal in their bowl.  Then, see nothing unhygienic with repeatedly dipping their spoon into the communal soup bowl.
-Make piles of fish bones and uneaten meat on the table beside their plate.
-Prefer really, really bland food.
-Pickle everything.
-Think yogurt, milk, cheese, and French Fries are disgusting.
-Serve you fish after you tell them you're a vegetarian (because fish is not really meat.)
-Eat an entire meal before drinking any water.
-Grow their fingernails really long and pointy - men included.
-Think feet are the dirtiest part of the body and hide the bottoms of them.  (Meanwhile, they walk around barefoot half the time.)
-Believe coconut juice as a cure for every ailment.
-Hand you unlabeled pills when you are ill and give instructions on how to take them. 
-Offer advice, all the time, on every subject, most of which are old "wives tales."
-Say, "Oh my God!
-Give terrible massages.
-Always share what little they have.
-Are the most kind, generous, and lovely people I've met on the planet.

Gogozilla

I saw Gogo eating a rat the other day.  I'm sure he was valiantly attempting to assist me with my rat problem. 

He became concerned when I started taking photos, and of course, the kids took an interest when they saw me with my camera, so he decided to bury his treasure for later.  Then, he took a nap on top of it. 

The next day, Cynthia told me that he threw up some disgusting, almost whole creature on top of her bed.  I'm guessing it did not digest well. 

 

Can you believe this is the same scrawny puppy that showed up on Cynthia's doorstep a few months ago?  Surely, he is the best fed dog in the entire village.  He enjoys eggs for breakfast, meat & rice for lunch and dinner, and whatever he scavenges for snacks.  Gogo reminds me of Tahoe with his coloring, wrinkly forehead, and he's a total Mama's boy.

 

Gogo was sleeping in the office (right in front of the fan), and I told Laum that in the U.S., we have mascots for each school like hawks, cougars, or bulls.  I informed him that Gogo is now the official school mascot. 

Reading Between the Lines

One of our donors sent a box of about 20 really nice children's books written in English to our school.  They are brand new, hardcover, and have beautiful illustrations.  The kids love looking at books and trying to read the words and figure out the story.

I took a few photos and wrote a thank you note to the donor (who, weirdly) nobody seems to know.  From his name and address on the package, I would guess he is a Cambodian living in the U.S.

A Couple Laughs

This face means - I know I'm supposed to smile, but this white lady still freaks me out.  He makes the same face when he blows me a kiss.  Everyone thinks it's hilarious.

I decided to teach my 7th graders how to play Left, Right Center.  Of course, this game is not available, so I bought some dice and wrote an L, R, & C on them and cut up some index cards to use as "chips" and put them all in a small box.  We played the game which worked out well and ended up taking the entire class period since we all played together.

One day, the village children pulled the box out of "their" drawer where I keep crayons, jump ropes, pencils, stickers, flashcards, scissors, books, etc.  While I was busy working on lesson plans, they devised their own game.  They were giggling and played for a long time.  They're so resourceful!

Costco Cambodian-Style

Since the government crackdown, Sisophon market has remained free of illegal vendors.  The ones who can afford to pay the taxes can stay.  The others sell illegally elsewhere, usually in front of their house.  My favorite vegetable ladies are gone, but I can still get all the items I need (except for the few Western items I buy at Grand Mart like butter, beans, and spaghetti.) 

The vendors work long hours, and many rest in hammocks in their stall during the middle of the day.  Sometimes, I have to wake a woman to buy something, and I feel bad about it because usually it's something worth only a dollar or two.  But hey, it's either that or go without a new sponge, some dehydrated peas, or paper towels for a week.  So, I wake them up.

The vendors are separated into groups.  There's the shoe and clothes section, fruits and vegetables, toiletries, gold jewelry, and meat.  The lady above was scraping a fresh pig hoof as I walked by.  I was not in need of one at the moment, so I kept walking.  As I walk along, I hear a chorus of, "barang."  I think it's partially curiosity because so few barangs shop here, but more importantly, I think it's their way of saying, "Hey, here comes moneybags."  White equals rich - no matter who you are.

One of the moto drivers was trying to get my attention, so he said, "Bonjour Madam."  I replied, "Bonjour, Hello, Seuss-day, Hola, Sawadee-ka, Hallo, Konnichiwa!"  Then, we laughed. 

The vendors are not aggressive which makes shopping a pleasant experience.  It's not like Siem Reap or Marrakesh or Mexico.  I can actually stop and browse without hearing, "Come take a look.  I have special price for you.  You want scarf, earring?"  The ladies are very polite, and if I take an interest in their goods, they may pick up something and hold it out to me, but that is the extent of their sales techniques.  One woman had a bowl of live frogs which apparently you buy in threes since that's how they were tied together. 

This is the fabric from which women select to tailor a beautiful blouse for weddings.  They are gorgeous and expensive, even by Cambodian standards.  Usually, a woman will own one shirt which she wears to every wedding. 

You may be wondering the prices of items in Sisophon.  I spend about $30 per week on food, toiletries, and cleaning products.  This list should provide an idea of the cost of goods.

• Bar of soap = .50
• Small dove deodorant = 1.15
• Colgate Plax mouthwash = 2.20
• Large local lotion = 3.00
• 6 pack toilet paper = 2.00
• Flip-flops = 2.00
• Sandals = 5.00
• Eraser = .25
• Notebook = .25
• Can of soda = .50
• 12 pack water bottles = 1.00
• 3 mangoes = .50
• Small watermelon = 1.00
• 10 limes = .50
• 8 eggs = 1.00
• 1 cooked corn cob = .25

Seeing Spots

I asked one of the mothers why her daughter has been gone all week.  She said she had a fever for 10 days.  She took her to the doctor who told her it was nothing, but sold her some pills.  Then, she mentioned there were dots on her skin.  I asked if they were itchy, and she said yes.  I exclaimed, "She has chicken pox."  I explained the illness and that she needs proper medication to cure it, and she should not let her scratch the pox.  But I also reassured her that it is good she got it now as a child since it's much worse if you get it as an adult.  When I told her that American parents sometimes purposely expose their children to chicken pox, she laughed. 

The next day, I checked all the 1st and 2nd graders and discovered her best friend had it too.  I told her in Khmer that she was sick and needs to stay at home.  Luckily, she did.

I informed the other teachers about the outbreak since there may be more cases soon.  They didn't know anything about chicken pox, and I explained how contagious it is and how it is an airborne disease that can be transferred by coughing, sneezing, or even touching.  Wow.  Just when I think I've seen it all, I am continually reminded that the information age has not yet reached this country.

Poetry Slam

My teacher training class wrote & presented poems this week.

                       Sitting alone, writing a poem during the dark night.

                       Staying away from home, missing my parents, feel I wanna cry.

                       It’s like I am flying such as a lonely kite.

                       But I really love to spend my time for my lonely life.

                       And the last thing I want to tell you, mummy, that I am fine here tonight.

                       Please don’t worry and keep being forever bright.

                       Un is great fun!

                       You can undo what you have done.

                       It can be sad if you’re unwell and unhealthy.

                       It’s unfunny and unfair.

                       If you’re unafraid and unselfish, you can promise what you think right.

                       You can apology when you’re wrong.

                       And you can be healthy and strong.

                       Then good things come with unlimited fun.

One Small Step to Erase our Footprint

The U.S. alone comsumed 50 billion plastic water bottles in 2013.  Unfortunately, the recycling rate for plastic is a mere 23 percent.  That means 38 billion water bottles, more than $1 billion worth of plastic, are wasted annually - in one country.  Combine that with all the other 195 countries in the world, and you get the picture.

One of my main goals here was to educate the children on the environment and decrease the trash and toxic pollution.  Everyone litters.  Everyone.  They stack in into a pile and burn it.  Why does this happen?  The province truck won't come down our village road.  And what can you do?  There are no dumps, no garbage men, no environmentalists.

I can't solve burning trash, littering in general, or the shocking deforestation taking place in this country.  However, I bought three bins, made signs, taught the students to only throw recyclables in it, and Socheata recycles it for extra cash for his family.  It's not much, but sometimes I wonder how much good I'm doing here.  I wanted to see something tangible and lasting as a result of my hard work.  Besides, the kids loved the idea.  My little ones don't understand the why.  But they understand the how.  And that's all I need for now.

Off the Market

It's official.  Laum is a married man.  It only took 2 1/2 years, a baby, living together, and a very persuasive mother to accomplish this task.  I called Laum the day before his wedding to ensure that it began at 11 a.m.  He said, "I don't know.  Maybe I postpone it until later.  I call you tomorrow."  Whatever.  It's only a wedding.  We ended up going at 4:00 pm, and Laum and Roam looked glamorous in their outfits.  Everything happened so fast that I didn't get a chance to take a photo of Roam, but hopefully, I can ask someone for one later.  The transformation the women undergo on their wedding day is astonishing.  Again, I wouldn't have recognized her on the street. 

Cynthia and I were honored to take part in the Buddhist blessing along with his family members.  Laum has a hard time sitting on the ground, so the monks gave him some of their pillows.  It was very special to witness this, and I was surprised that were included in this very intimate event.  There were five monks who chanted and talked.  Then, they tossed a bunch of flowers (jasmine, I think) at the guests.  The older ladies next to me gathered up a bunch and put them in their purses.  At one point, Laum took a phone call, and Cynthia and I looked at each other and rolled our eyes.  So typical.

Most of the teachers attended, along with some of the older students.  The kids insisted that we sit with them which was fine with me.  They served fish soup and brought out three vegetarian dishes for me.  It was a lot of food, so I kept trying to get the others to eat it, but this is a country of carnivores. 

I love this couple.  They live in our village and have attended many of the parties.  Since they speak English and seem to have more modern values, I enjoy our conversations.  I met some more of Laum's family.  His mother, of course, is a sweetheart.  His uncle lived in the States for a time, but I think he missed his homeland and now takes care of his parents at his ancestral home.  His sister lives in Maine, and is an intelligent and sophisticated woman. 

Although they still maintain their pretense as "friends," the entire village knows exactly what is going on with my friend, Bop, and the man who could be her grandfather.  After all the required eating, talking, and dancing, I went back to my hotel and slept for a long time.  It's exhausting just being a participant at weddings.  I couldn't imagine doing this for three days.

Battambang

Battambang means "disappearing stick" which is a reference to an old legend about some guy with a large stick.  There's a statue of him at the entrance of the city, and his stick is sizable, but I've seen bigger.  This town was rated the most beautiful city in Cambodia by someone.  I can't argue with that.  The French colonial architecture and river walk are beautiful.  It's not as busy and loud and Phnom Penh, but it has an artsy, laid back atmosphere that I like. 
                           
It's the low season now, so it's quiet, there aren't many foreigners, and the prices are cheaper.  I'm staying at the Royal Hotel, my favorite in town, and it's $8 per night (instead of $10).  I like this hotel because it's clean, spacious, and has appealing décor.  Plus, the staff is friendly, and they don't charge you for stuff like toilet paper or soap. 

It still cracks me up when I see monks with cell phones and other worldly items.  They have to give up so much, so I can't really blame them if they want to get a phone with wifi to check Facebook. 

I visited one of the pagodas this afternoon, and looked at the temple and statues.  Suddenly, I found myself walking right past the monastery shower room with a bunch of half naked monks.  Why, oh why does this always happen?   I'll admit it.  My eyes lingered for a second on one guy's tight ass in a wet sarong.  I should burst into flame right now.

I went to the Lonely Tree Café and ordered the most delicious salad.  It had actual lettuce (a rare find), mango, soft cheese, cashew nuts, tomatoes, and a tangy dressing.  Yum!  It's sponsored by an N.G.O. which teaches young people how to cook and serve food.  All the dishes and napkin holders were unique  handmade ceramics.   Downstairs, there were many arts and crafts such as scarves, purses, and jewelry for sale.

As I was walking down the river, something caught my eye. There was a pile of straws in every color of the rainbow.  They were new, and I have no idea how this happened, but it struck me as being oddly beautiful. 

Professor Kerri

A few weeks ago, we had a meeting with our school founder.  He wanted me to begin a teacher training class for some of the high school students in the hopes that over the next couple years, they will learn enough to become teachers at our school.  I expressed my many reservation about undertaking such a class - for many reasons - but that did not matter.  During the meeting, I was quickly scribbling down all my comments and questions.  I glanced over at Laum's notes, and he had written, "Make good teachers."  Laum is astute in many ways, but actually running a school is not one of them. 

I opted to teach this class twice a week for two hours in my apartment because I have A.C.  Originally, 5 students signed up, but 10 showed up for the first class.  We are a little cramped, but it sure beats having class in the office where it's hot, loud, and busy.  There are 9 high school students ranging in age from 14-20.  Sophert also wanted to join the class because she wants to improve her teaching skills, even though she has to pay for a substitute for her class during this time.  I find it extremely admirable that she recognizes her weaknesses and is willing to gain more education.  Of course, this means her son, Pheak, is an honorary member of the class as well.  He mostly sits quietly and reads a book or watches us, but sometimes when we are playing a game and laughing hysterically, he gets excited and laughs too.  Then, we all start laughing at him.

Since I get to create the curriculum, I have decided to just teach whatever I want, whatever I think is important, particularly using a wide variety of activities and resources.  It's an activity based class, so I actually have the students do the activities.  There is some lecture, but I try to keep it to a minimum because let's face it, that's boring. 

This class has turned out to be refreshing.  For one, I get to speak only in English.  Plus, I get to enjoy their sense of humor too.  I gave the students my phone number and told them to call me if they were going to be absent or had a question.  One of my boys said, "Cha, I call you all the time."  When I announced that we were going to play Hangman, Sophert started giggling and said, "Hangman.  Not Hangwoman.  Hahahaha." 

The students are all in different grades, so their English skills vary from barely proficient to decent English.  There is one boy who has a wide vocabulary and is more knowledgeable about the world.  I asked the students if they could travel anywhere in the world, where would they go?  The answers ranged from Thailand to South Korea to Canada, but this one boy said South Africa.  I asked why, and he said he wanted to help the poor children there. 

Srey-Inh had her 19th birthday this week.  She wore a t-shirt that said, "You know you're old when the candles cost more than the cake."  Since she didn't have a party, I added one to my lesson plan for the day.  We sang to her, and I handed out a bag of popcorn to everyone.  (The previous day, I saw this guy driving a moto with a bunch of bags of kettle corn, so I hauled after him and honked my horn until he pulled over.  Then, I bought 10 bags for $1.00.) 

Quote of the Week

Cynthia informed Laum that she got sick from the school lunch again. 

Laum said, "I told Jom-Ron not to use pond water to cook."

Lost in Translation

I received a note recently from a second grader this week.  It read:

Hi Kerri,
Do you like head?
I love Kerri.
(There were hearts drawn on it.)

I've been giggling about this all week.

The Yellow Fountain

Sey-hak is 3 months old, and he can already smile and say, "Mama."  He gets excited when Kim comes home because that means it's time to drink real milk, not formula. 

Like many people, they can't afford diapers.  Unless he's resting in the hammock with a cloth wrapped around him, someone is holding him - facing away in case a yellow fountain erupts.  The first time I watched Sey-hak let loose while in his grandma's lap, Kim looked kind of embarrassed and said, "Is it o.k.?"  I assured her that I didn't care.  But inside, I was laughing while they wiped his urine off the wood floor (the same wood floor where we ate about a half hour later).

Kim told me that her mother took Sey-hak to the hospital because he kept vomiting after he drank milk.  I told her this is normal; all babies spit up.  I explained that when he drinks, he also sucks in air which fills his belly, and he needs to burp to get it out.  Then, I showed her how to burp him. 

This is just one example of the enormous lack of common knowledge I come across every day.  The people are not to blame for this.  Pol Pot's regime killed teachers, doctors, nurses, scientists, artists, and every other intellectual in the country.  The only people left were poor country folk who didn't know how to revolt.  These people can grow rice in a swamp or a desert, but they couldn't point out England on a map.

Eggstremely Revolting

The market is full of all kinds of things I can't identify and wouldn't know how to use.  One woman sells pink eggs that may look appealing during Easter at home.  However, in Cambodia, I'm skeptical.  And for good reason.

Inside is a black quivering mess that smells rotten.  I asked my friends about this, and although they have all seen these eggs, they were just as puzzled as me.  They tried to explain that the eggs are soaked in something, but it was unclear.  One thing they all could agree upon was: these eggs are gross.  Who eats these?  Somebody must because the egg lady always has about a hundred of them piled on her stall.  (I didn't buy it.  Socheata gave them to Cynthia because she wanted brown eggs.  He didn't understand that she meant brown on the outside.)  Since Gogo does not have a picky palate, I gave it to him, and he gobbled it right up. 

After doing some research online, I discovered that these eggs are sold all over Asia and are considered a delicacy.  They are called Hundred Year Old eggs.  Well, that part made sense.  They certainly smelled old.  The name refers to their special storage process which takes over 100 days.  The eggs are soaked in: clay, salt, tea, lime, rice husk, and ash.  Yuck.

Shall I Wrap it Up to Go?

This is one of my many roommates, Tom.  In Khmer, that word means big, and since he's the largest of all the ping-pleung (spiders), his name is fitting.  He lives near the ceiling and is an excellent hunter.  I've watched him spy an unsuspecting beetle or fly, and deftly render his prey defenseless before spinning a coffin of webbing around it.  Then, he waits awhile before sucking out all the gooey bug juice. 

Roaming Around

I saw Roam, Laum, and their daughter, Haylisa, in Sisophon this weekend.  She is a beautiful baby who's fingers are always somewhere near her mouth.  She is five months old and might be teething now.  Laum and Roam are busy preparing for their wedding.  Laum is still handing out invitations which is, of course, actually done by hand since most people don't have an address, and there is no mail service here.  He better hurry up because it's only a week and a half away now.  It's amazing how Cambodians throw together three day extravaganzas in only a matter of weeks. 

4 Weddings & a Funeral

Soviet's father died this week from Kidney cancer.  He was 71.  Like weddings, funerals last for three days too.  I have seen caskets in stores and always wondered who would buy them since the bodies are cremated in Buddhist societies.  Now, I understand their purpose.  The body remains at home during the three days while family and friends visit the house, eat, and talk.  In this heat, you need to put the body in something.

On the last day, the casket is loaded onto an elaborately carved and painted cart with a moto driver in front.  A few monks sit along the sides, and loud music erupts from the loudspeaker attached to the front.  (I will never get used to the Cambodian's preferred volume of music.  In fact, right now, at 6:30 in the morning, I can hear music coming from two wats; one from the north, and one from the south.)   

The relatives of the deceased walk in the front of the long procession as we follow the cart to the nearest pagoda, about a kilometer away.  Everyone wears white.  I wore my funeral shirt too.  That's what I call the one white shirt I happened to bring and only pull out for Buddhist ceremonies. 

As we walked, I thought about all the special events that I have had the privilege of experiencing in Cambodia.  So far, I have been attended 4 weddings, a birthday, the birth of Sey-hak (my special Godson) and Laum's baby, several birthday parties, Christmas, Khmer New Year, a pagoda opening, Buddhist ceremonies, and all the holidays for an entire year.  The grand finale will be Laum's wedding which takes place in about a week and a half.  He gave me an invitation which was written all in Khmer of course.  I opened it, and pretending to be reading the Khmer said, "Laum is getting married.  Finally!  It is a miracle."  He laughed and gave me a hug. 

I am happy to feel so accepted among my new friends.  These are things that the average tourist would never get to experience.  Despite the difficulties that go along with living in the third world, I feel grateful and lucky.  For example, the other night, it was 7:00 pm, and I was reading in bed when I heard knocking on my window and a boy's voice say, "Cha!"  It was Mey, one of my students.  He gave me a bag of mangoes from their tree. 

The procession ended at the pagoda, and the casket was placed on a cement block in front of the furnace.  A few people collected all the incense and sprigs of herbs that we carried.  I'm not sure what they do with it all, but I assume they throw it into the fire.

Just like at a wedding, the family members walk around in a circle, only this time it's around the casket, not a giant pile of fruit.  There was a nice, large photograph of the father on a pedestal, surrounded by a wreath in front.  After walking around in circles for a long time, the monks prayed.  I wonder what they pray about.  They believe in reincarnation, so I suppose they pray that his next life is even better. 

Soviet's head was completely shaved, and I asked Rana if it was symbolic.  She said that the son's  (and sometimes even the daughters) of the dead parent will shave their heads as a sign of respect, but this is optional.  Soviet seemed touched that Cynthia and I were there.  He thanked us for coming, and then I realized that I didn't know what to say.  "I hope he's reincarnated as something cool" didn't seem appropriate.  I simply said, "I'm sorry for your loss."  Funerals are bittersweet in Buddhism as in Christianity.  Buddhists hope for a better lot in their next life while Christians look forward to going to heaven. 

The pagoda was a peaceful place with a huge pond of large pink lotus flowers which are now blooming again with all the rain.  During the dry season, the ponds just contained dust covered lily pads, but now they are as spectacular as when I first arrived in this country. 

A Day in my Life

Although for the most part, my life is very simple, I do, from time to time, stock up on luxuries in the big cities.  Frosties are Frosted Flakes.  Import items like this usually cost the same or higher than in the U.S.  My favorite item is Magicaroni.  The picture on the box is almost identical as Krafts Macaroni n. Cheese, but the best part is they taste exactly the same.  Of course, we can't forget the lotion.  Import lotions cost double, so I bought the local brand.  I never thought I would be using "whitening" lotion.  It doesn't seem to be working though.  I ran out of sunblock, and can you believe they don't sell it anywhere in my village?  I looked everywhere.  We are 11 degrees north of the equator, in the middle of an intense jungle, and I couldn't find one bottle.

The farmer next door has 5 cows.  He ties up the three big ones in a different spot each day to graze.  The two calves are free to roam all around because he knows they will stay close to their mothers.  Sometimes, I find them wandering through the school yard or right outside my bedroom window.

I taught my first graders to write their names in December, and we practice every day, so they don't forget.  Notice one of them decided to write my name too.

I am addicted to Thai chilis.  This is a one week supply.  It looks like a lot, but I eat at least 5-6 every day.  At lunchtime, I always bring a small plastic container of chilis, onion, and garlic to add to whatever vegetarian dish they have prepared for me since Khmer food is so bland.  Often, I bring the leftovers home and heat them up for dinner. 

If you need Mr. Thang during siesta after lunch, you can find him sleeping in his hammock.  He takes off his buttoned up shirt and curls up in a shady spot in the stairwell.  I don't blame him.  Sometimes, I take a nap too - only I have a quiet room with A.C. 

My 7th graders made treats and brought me one.  It's a leaf bowl which contains gooey balls of a snot-like substance made of rice with coconut sprinkled on top.  I pretended I was really happy and couldn't wait to eat it.  I could wait though.  This stuff is disgusting.  Later on, I saw a student scarfing down plain rice with his bare hand like a starving dog, so I gave it to him. 

Most of the students walk, ride their bicycle, or get a moto ride to school, but some live really far away and don't have a ride.  They shove about 80 kids onto our school bus which rumbles around the village, stopping at various locations to let them off.  The whole process takes about an hour.

Two of my first graders live just a couple house down the path, and they visit me almost every day.  Some of the old ladies who sell snacks left their headwear on the tables, so they had fun dressing up like them.