Career Day

Cynthia arranged a Career day for the 7th, 8th, and 9th grade students.  This fulfilled several goals.  The students were exposed to jobs that they might possibly want in the future.  They got to see three great Cambodian role models.  And it hopefully impressed upon them the importance of learning English which will open up many job opportunities for them in their future.  The man to Laum's right is from a Crisis Center that helps victims of trafficking, abuse, and violence.  Although, they were given a time limit of 15-20 minutes.  He spoke for 40 minutes which was way too long for a group of teenagers, and it made us run way overtime.  Cynthia stood in front of him at one point and pointed to her watch, but he ignored her and continued blabbing away.  Clearly, he was not used to speaking in front of young people.  The next man is Dr. Chan, one of the doctors who has helped me in the past.  On the end, is Mr. Bean.  He's an old friend of Laum; they grew up in Battambang together.  Now, he works as a tuk-tuk driver and trainer of drivers in Siem Reap, particularly at Angkor Wat.  He makes a very good living doing that.  He was the best speaker because he was funny, and the kids thought he was cool because he has tattoos and earrings.  I could tell that he is used to entertaining foreigners and knows how to use humor cleverly.  Afterwards, he confessed that he was so nervous to speak in front of such a large group, and his heart was pounding the whole time. 

The students were well behaved and some of the girls asked questions.  Bean made a joke and asked why none of the boys asked a question.  The truth is that they tend to be lazy and less motivated than the girls, but I didn't say that.  I just did the Indian head roll instead. 

Bong-S'ray

Sophert is my Cambodian sister.  She is 39, the same age as me, and we have a lo in common.  The first time I went to her house, she was so embarrassed that she refused to allow me to see inside of it.  Now that I have known her for 10 months, it's different.  I can show up unannounced, and she welcomes me inside and always offers to prepare a meal as is the custom for guests.  The first time I went inside, I was shocked.  It was an absolute hovel.  She kept muttering, "Dirty hou.  dirty hou," in dismay, but I told her it was just fine and not to worry. 

I've been in a lot of homes in my village, but this was one of the worst.  Her house isn't built on stilts, and she lives on the bottom floor.  Every time it floods, her entire house is filled with water for weeks or months.  Last October, she had to move to the top floor and live with Bop until the water receded.  The linoleum on the floor has rotted away completely, her furniture is ruined, and it was filthy.  Chickens walked in and out, pecking among the trash for a bit of rice.  I hated to see a fellow teacher living such a wretched existence. 

When I first met Sophert, she told me her dream was that she could save enough money to buy a small house near her father's home.  She wants to plant vegetables and fruit trees.  So far, she has managed to save up $3,500 of the $10,000 that it will cost to buy the land and build a house.

Sophert's life has always been difficult.  She was born in 1974.  One year later, on April 17th, Pol Pot's regime marched into Phnom Penh and began a bloody war that lasted for 5 years.  No one knows for sure how many people the Khmer Rouge killed during the genocide, but researchers estimate somewhere between 1 and 3 million people.  Farmers were displaced, and many were forced into labor camps.   Teachers, doctors, bankers, politicians, artists, university students, business owners, and anyone with any education was immediately executed.  It is much easier to spread propaganda among the uneducated.  One of their mottos was, "To keep you is no benefit.  To destroy you is no loss." 

After the Vietnamese liberated the country, there was a terrible famine because no rice had been planted, and many more people starved.  Then, Hun Sen gained leadership of the county, and has vowed to maintain his stronghold until he dies.  (And we all know how well that has worked out for the average citizen.)  The only reason Sophert is alive today is because she was the daughter of a poor subsistence farmer.  She eventually managed to get some education, but it was the bare minimum

When she reached her early 30's, her parents decided she should get married.  It was an arranged marriage.  She hardly knew the guy.  He was from another town, and her parents set up the whole thing.  It was a disaster.  He treated her poorly, verbally abused her, yelled at her, and any self-esteem she once had completely dissolved.  It lasted a mere four years.  When Sophert told me all this, I couldn't help but be struck by all the similarities between her failed marriage and mine.  However, my husband didn't leave me; I kicked his ass out.  So, there was Sophert.  Alone.  A single mother.  That's when she began to work so much.  I asked what happened to her husband.  She said they got a divorce, and he became a monk.  I found that infuriating!  How could he leave his family and then declare himself on the path to enlightenment by putting on an orange robe? 

Sophert showed me her wedding photo album.  The first few pages contained pictures with the husband cut out.  I started laughing, and Sophert looked at my shyly and said, "I get mad."  I told her she was awesome and I approved. 

The rest of the album contained really awkward photos like this.  I said, "Sophert, these are the saddest wedding pictures I've ever seen."  She said, "I only just know him that day."  Damn.  This was messed up.  The worst part of our whole conversation was when she confessed that she still loved him.  That killed me.  I understand though.  This was not only her first boyfriend, but her husband, the one and only man she's ever slept with, and they had a child together.  She said she would probably never make love to another man again.  And she probably won't.  She's a divorced woman in Mongkol Borei.  That's "damaged goods" out here in the paddies.

Currently, Sophert has 5 jobs.  She works full time at our school, teaches one class at a state school in the evenings, tutors some of the high school students on the weekends, washes people's laundry, and is a house cleaner.  I worry about her because it's obvious that she is depressed and exhausted. 

It seems to have gotten worse lately.  Recently, she called Cynthia and told her that someone was trying to poison her.  It was weird.  We couldn't figure out if she was going crazy, or if it was some weird Cambodian thing.  Finally, Sophert said that she had a dream that some men tried to rape her by giving her a drug.  She was convinced that someone didn't like her and sent a ghost to haunt her and couldn't stop worrying about it.  (So yes, it turned out to be a weird Cambodian thing.)  Anyway, they went to the pagoda, and a monk gave them a really long blessing and dumped holy water on their heads for about 10 minutes.  The monk declared Sophert ghost-free, and they left.   

Camboian Fashion

Thida is wearing the typical attire for a Cambodian lady.  She has two shirts, a sweater, gloves, pants, socks, and flip-flops.  The only thing missing is a wool hat.  It's 95 degrees, but they want to protect their skin and keep it "light."  Thida always asks me, "Kerri, aren't you hot?"  She is afraid my skin will get brown.  I am constantly reprimanded by the women for not covering my arms.  I shamelessly walk around and allow the sun to color the pigment of my skin.  Oh, the horror.

One day I was looking for some skin lotion at the market, but all those were imports and three times the price of the local lotions.  Khmer skin lotions are always "whitening creams."  When I bought some of this lotion, the vendor laughed at me and pointed to my arms.  Then, she leaned over and told the woman next to her, so they could both enjoy the amusing fact that a barang wanted whitening lotion.  I'm seem to provide this kind of amusement so often. 

Reptile vs. Amphibian

No winner in this battle.

Partying with 7th Graders

As the school year came to a close, I decided that we needed to have a party in my 7A class.   Everyone brought something to share: food, drinks, music, dancing, etc.

The students created a buffet table for: watermelon, rambutan, mangosteens, durian, cookies, and soda. 

We played Butt Balloon (yes, I did just make up that term).  There are two team, and each team member must sit on a balloon until it breaks.  The first team done is the winner.  This is always a big hit.  It's fun.  Try it at home.  Fun fact: the word for balloon in Khmer is bpang pow.  I like this word since it sounds fitting.

Four girls performed a dance choreographed just for me, based on a Khmer music video they like.  I was touched by their thoughtfulness.

The Beginning of the End

Laum announced at our last faculty luncheon that Bop was leaving school a week early to work in Thailand as a waitress.  Both Cynthia and I were in shock.  Bop didn't tell us because this decision made her sad, and she knew it would have the same effect on us.  Out of all my wonderful friends, she is the most sweet, caring, and kind.  and that is huge because all of my friends are like this.  When Cynthia lay dying in the squalid hospital in Mongkol Borei, she was the one who stayed at her bedside for two night, cleaned out bowls of vomit and helped Cynthia get to the communal toilet.  Not many people would do that. 

I will miss Bop, but I'm glad she will have the opportunity to have some fun, enjoy a big city in another country, and hopefully gain a broader perspective on things.  She will work as a waitress at an American Grill 6 days a week.   She will earn $300 per month which is really good by Cambodian standards. 

On her last night, we all had dinner together, said our goodbyes, and tried not to cry.

The Last Lunch

Cynthia and I went out to eat one last time before I left.  I ordered watergreens, one of my favorites, and she ordered roasted fish with veggies.  She at most of it but left the head for Gogo to eat.  I teased her about not eating the fish cheeks which are supposed to be the best part of the fish; however, she refused.  I decided that I haven't eaten enough revolting food in this country, so I attempted to find the fish cheek.  After poking around for a while, I kept hitting hard pieces that seemed like gills, so devised plan B: eat the eyeball.  Plucking the eyeball out of the face was the easy part.  It became more difficult as I was staring into the fish's eyeball, so I popped it in my mouth before I could think about it too much. The texture was tender and kind of melted in my mouth, but the taste was horribly fishy.  There was this hard, crunchy part which was obviously the outer part of the eyeball.  It was like trying to chew a piece of plastic, so I ended up spitting out that part because it was really grossing me out. 

"Speak Softly and Carry a Big Stick"

There have been moments when my classes get rowdy, and cranky schoolmarm makes an appearance.  For one thing, the seating arrangements are a big source of the problem.  The other teachers assigned them, and they all do the same thing.  They section the students by ability, so all the high level students are sitting together.  Also, the students are seated according to gender.  This is a recipe for disaster for a couple reasons.  The low level students become one big blob of laziness since there is no one sitting next to them to raise the bar.  Plus, there is no reason the boys should be allowed to sit next to their buddies with the opportunity to screw around.  However, I am a roaming teacher, so it's not my place to make these changes. 

Anyway, the teachers all have these big sticks (from trees) in their classes.  I thought they were kind of weird and old-fashioned until I picked one up and wielded the power for myself.  Now, I whack that thing all over the place.  Say, a student is drawing absently on his desk or playing with a toy when he should be listening to me because I am way more important than a yo-yo.  I just reach over and tap his desk with it.  Sometimes, I hit the board with it for extra emphasis.  Other times, I just carry it around and point at stuff. 

One day, my class was getting too loud, and after repeated attempts at silencing them, I finally said, "We're not doing this anymore!"  "You are going to write the word, quiet, 20 times in your notebook."  One boy whined, "Aww, man!"  Now, wherever did he pick up that that expression?

Traffic Jam in Mongkol Borei

Hey buddy!  Mooooove it!

Average School Day

There are some scenes here that are so normal in Cambodia but would be viewed as inappropriate in other countries. 

For instance, students walking around with butcher knives and machetes would require assistance from a police S.W.A.T. team in the United States.

Plastic bags over children's heads might be considered dangerous elsewhere.  Here, the bags make a handy hat when it rains. 

smART

"Every child is an artist.  The problem is how to remain an artist once he grows up."  - Pablo Picasso

Art is an important and often overlooked aspect of the learning experience.  Sometimes, I allow my 1st and 2nd graders an entire class day to simply draw and color pictures.  When they see my crayon box and cut-up half sheets of white paper, they squeal with delight, ''Cha!  Goo-roop!"  They draw images from their imagination or copy pictures from books.  Art of any kind is not only educational, but it allows to express themselves and their thoughts in forms other than speaking or writing. 

Dear Earth...I'm Trying.

I came to this country to teach English, but quickly realized that there were so many other areas of daily life that needed my attention too, a major one being the concept of environmentalism.  I noticed it immediately when I arrived in Siem Reap.  At restaurants, people would throw all their napkins on the floor, and the waitresses would just sweep them out on the street.  This was shocking.  How hard is it to get a few garbage bins.  In big cities like this, they have garbage service.  Why not use it?

When I got to my village, it was even worse.  There is not garbage service here, and not only do people throw all their trash on the ground without a thought, but the trash that is collected is burned.

Over the course of the year, I've taught my students how to throw trash in the bins.  Cynthia and I bought 14 extra garbage bins, and I created a recycling program at our school.  I've also taught my 1st and 2nd graders vocabulary related to nature.  After teaching about leaves, I took my 1st graders outside, and asked, "Where's a leaf?"  "Where's a flower?"  etc.

I know I have made some impact, but it will take many years for these habits to really change.  I took this photo last week...two days after I made my students clean this exact area.  You can imagine my frustration with this.  I should also point out at there is a gigantic garbage bin about 10 feet from this spot. 

You know the old saying about everything and the kitchen sink.  Yeah, well, the broken sink from the bathrooms now lives under a banana tree.  It's been there for two months and will probably be there for the next two years.  Did Laum bother to get a new sink?  No, of course not.  There is a giant pot of water in the bathroom now for "washing."  All the students put their dirty hands, arms, and heads into this pot.  Thank God I live on campus and have my own bathroom.  After every class, I immediately retreat to my little piece of heaven and wash my hands...with soap. 

Let's Do Lunch

A One Act Play - by Cha Kerri 
(unfortunately it's all true)

Knock on my apartment door.  I open it.
Student - "Cha.  Bai.  Eat ri."
Me - "Ok, thank you."
I ignore the invitation,sit back down at my computer, and contemplate eating stale bread and jam.
There's a knock on my window.
Cynthia - "Hey, come to lunch, and bring my spoon."
Me - "Is there anything not disgusting?"
Cynthia - "I don't know, but everyone's there."
(Context: Cynthia has one spoon which she brought over to my apartment last night.  Also, she's been crying today because it's the end of the year, and she's sad about leaving.  My 2nd graders were concerned and brought this to my attention by saying, "Cynthia," and pantomiming crying motions with their hands.)
I figure the lunch will contain some sort of inedible boiled fish soup, so I grab 4 mangosteens and a can of juice, and trot off to the lunch room. 
Kim begins wildly tugging on my arm, but I'm ignoring her because Cynthia is talking to me.
Cynthia - Thanks for the spoon.  Do you have an extra straw?
I get up to retrieve a straw and notice Kim taking one of my mangosteens.
Me- "Oh, did you want a mangosteen?  I wasn't sure why you were grabbing my arm.  Here, have one."
I leave for 1 minute, get a straw, bowl and spoon for myself because I saw some sort of onion concoction mixed with oily water that was likely prepared for me.  I return to the table and notice that there is only 1 mangosteen left.  Kim informs me that she gave 2 of them to other teachers.
Me - "Oh...well, thanks for leaving me one.  How kind."
Cynthia has tears in her eyes.
Kim - "Cynthia, don't cry!  Don't let your tears drop.  Be strong like Kerri.  She not cry."
Me - "That's because I'm a bitch."
Cynthia - sniffling "It's ok to cry because it shows I have a tender heart."
Me - "Yeah, and I'm just pretending this is not happening.  I will cry like a baby on the last day."
Kim starts rubbing her nose along my arm and sniffing it repeatedly.
Me - "Why are you sniffing my arm?"
Kim - "Because you smell so sweet!"
I smell my arm.
Me - "I do smell great!"
I make a dramatic display of smelling my arm and then lick it sensually.
Kim - "Kerri, do you want me to shay your eyebrows?"
Me - "What?  You want to shave my eyebrows?"
Kim - "Yes."
All the Cambodian teachers at the table start nodding in agreement at this idea.  I am totally confused because the last time Kim did my make-up, she painted gigantic dark brown eyebrows on me.  Plus, I'm the last person at this table who needs to attend to some personal grooming.  I will not mention name, but there are some scary armpits, mustaches, and hairy legs going on here.
Me - "Well, I didn't realize my eyebrows were so hideous.  Thank you for pointing that out.  I will use my tweezers and pluck them."
Kim translates this, so everyone will understand and there is a show of relief that this horrible situation will be rectified.
Thida - "Kerri, I like the color of your hair."
Me - "Thank you."
I compliment everyone on their hair.
Cynthia - "I always dreamt of having dark hair like yours, but every time I dye it, the sun bleaches it out."
Thida - "Oh, natural."
Cynthia - "Well, natural for you.  Mine is grey now."
Sophert - "I have grey too, but my students pull them out."  She giggles.
Cynthia - "I'd be bald if I did that."
Meanwhile, Gogo had stood up on his hind legs and is eating the food out of a bowl on a nearby table.
Kim - "Gogo.  Gogo!"
Cynthia rushes over to grab the bowl.
Me - "Well, you might as well let him have the rest.  Nobody can eat that now." 
I laugh.  No one else does.
A couple teachers and Pheak start singing a Goodbye song.
Kim - "Kerri, do you sing karaoke?"
Me - "Yes.  Cynthia and I sang karaoke with Laum."
Kim - "Really??  When?"
Me - "At the beginning of the year, during the flood."
Cynthia - "Yeah, we went to a club in Sisophon with Laum, Roam, Saroeun, and a prostitute."
Mealea giggles because she's the only one who knows what prostitute means. 
Kim - pouting "I wish I go too."
Cynthia - to me "Laum is supposed to come to school soon, and he wants me to help him with the student letters.  I just want to take a nap."
Me - snort "He'll probably show up at 4:00."
Cynthia - "Yeah, I'm gonna take a nap."

Room with a View

This is the view from my work place.  Jealous???

T.A.

Every teacher needs a loyal assistant.  Gogo is a big help with my 1st and 2nd grade classes.  He shows up every day, and promptly sprawls out on the floor.  He's sort of our school mascot, and the students love him.  There was that small incident when Gogo killed the neighbor's chicken and ate it in the school yard, but as Bop remarked, "It was only a small chicken."  So...no harm; no fowl. 

Go & Gogo

Our lawnmowers arrived today.  Gogo likes to hang out with the Go (Khmer word for cows).  Laum told Pheak to water the grass, so he stood in one place for 20 minutes with the hose.  Lawn care is a foreign concept, so I've given Laum many lessons in this area.  I explained that you shouldn't water in the middle of the day.  You can't make piles of sand on the grass.  And you also can't just dump big dirt clods down and think something will grow.  One time Hans got really upset about the look of the lawn, and he exclaimed, "They have no common sense!"  I wanted to ask him if he had ever seen a lawn in Cambodia, and point out that perhaps Laum was not the one lacking common sense regarding this issue.  But I played nice.

Freedom Park?

"I promise I will beat them in revenge if they ever return to protest here again!"  -security guard at Freedom Park

Excuse me.  What is the name of this park?  Oh right...  Freedom Park.   Yeah, sorry, my mistake.  I thought this was where we voiced our opinions.  Oopsie daisy.


 

Writing Right

I received a note from one of my 2nd graders.  It said, "Hello Kerri.  I love Kerri.  Do you like mango?  Yes, I do.  I like pink.  What do you like?  Teacher cute.  Happy happy.  It's sunny!  From me.  I'm Sreynich."  It also included drawings of roses and butterflies.  I started receiving these types of notes from several of my students long ago, and I decided to respond to them.  It not only made them feel special, but they got to practice the new words and phrases that I was teaching.  I love that they can communicate with me now.  My students also how to fist-bump, stick out their tongue at people, dance American style, say "Cheers!" and sing "What a Wondeful World" by Louis Armstrong.  Yes, these are standards in the curriculum.  (And no, we need not mention that I wrote the curriculum.)

Look what I Created!

After I got wrangled into teaching a Teacher Training Seminar, I discovered that I loved it.  I've always considered myself to be a teacher of content and ideas, not a teacher of methodology.  It turns out, I totally rock at it.  I guess all those post-grad classes come in handy after all.  Not only did I have the privilege of meeting 8 outstanding young people, but I got the rare opportunity to assist with improving teaching techniques and pedagogy in a country that desperately needs it. 

When I first arrived at my school, I felt like I had entered a time machine and wound up in a school circa 1750.  There were wooden benches filled with children who copied everything I did, and to them, school was all about rote bookwork and memorization.  The concept of originality was unheard of.  I couldn't get the students to form an independent thought for months.  That, of course, has changed now, at least in my classes.  Bookwork just sucks.  Good teaching is an art form!  It a combination of a Broadway play, comedic performance, and gifted storyteller - all while keeping the monkeys from taking over. 

So, I taught my future educators how to teach - Kerri style.  They learned how to create important, useful, and entertaining lesson plans.  They also may have learned a bunch of other stuff which I am not at liberty to discuss.  That will remain our secret...at least for now.  Bwahaha!

Picnic

Thida invited me to a picnic this weekend.  She said it was near her father's rice field, and I figured we would sit on the ground near the rice paddy.  It started raining the moment I left, but I ignored that and just went with the flow.  I have learned that it is better to not ask too many questions.  In most cases, my Cambodian friends have it all worked out, even though my American-wired brain is thinking," W.T.F?"  Indeed, that was the case here.  We ended up going to a band new park with about 18 thatch roof huts.  A small playset for the children, a few benches, all surrounded by paddies and ponds.  It was really nice.  Since it was raining, there weren't many people, and we had no trouble claiming a bungalow for ourselves.  A guy came over, put down a fresh mat for us to eat upon, and served a tray of drinks. 

I didn't know there would be food vendors, so I brought a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for myself and a bunch of mangosteens to share with everyone.  It was a good thing because they ordered 6 plates of meat including steak skewers, fried chicken, and a riotous mix of pork innards.

After eating my delicious baguette sandwich, I curled up in a hammock and waited for the others to finish their meat feast.  The rain made the paths a muddy quagmire, but I managed to drive my moto back to school without falling over. 

What in the World?

My friends are shocked that I am clueless when it comes to news.  "You don't know who is playing in the World Cup?"  No.  "Aren't you outraged by that bill Congress passed?"  Huh?  "Well, you must have heard about..."  Nope.  I stopped reading world news about two months after I arrived in Mongkol Borei.  It was no longer relevant to my life.  I didn't want to read about school shootings, the Oscar's, or the next iphone.  I just didn't care. 

My only connection with the outside world is reading the Phnom Penh Post which contains stories that are important to me.  This is where I can get specific information on local events, Cambodian holidays, and read crazy stories that make my own life seem rather ordinary.  For instance, I just read an article about a man who arrived home from work to find that his wife hadn't finished cooking his dinner yet because she took their daughter to the hospital.  He got so mad that he set his house on fire and ran away.  Now, that's great journalism.

So, no.  I have no idea what has been going on beyond the confines of my tiny country.  My life consists of more pressing issues like:  How do I get this giant lizard out of my apartment?  Can I make it to the market and back before it starts pouring rain?  Do I have enough toilet paper for the rest of the week?

Weirdness

"We are all a little weird, and life's a little weird, and when you find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love."         -Dr. Seuss

I'm so glad that I got to spend this incredible year with Cynthia.  Just think.  I could have been stuck with someone like Tom.  Oh, the horror!  Luckily, I ended up with someone who not only shares similar interests and beliefs about the world, but she's a total nut case like me.  Sure, there are some differences.  Cynthia is a slob, and her casual attire consists of a long shirt with no underwear.  I, on the other hand, am a neat-freak and prefer not to display my cooch to my friends.  I make fun of Cynthia.  She tells me to fuck off.  It's the perfect relationship. 

It takes a special kind of person to teach at an N.G.O. school for poor children while living in the middle of a bunch of rice paddies.  By special, I mean slightly insane.  We have endured epic flooding, biting cockroaches, poisonous centipedes, head lice outbreaks, food poisoning, Cambodian hospitals with inept doctors, lack of running water, day long power outages, 95 degree heat with 95% humidity, chanting monks at 4:20 am, and small students who pee or poop their pants during class.  But in the end, we just shrug and laugh. 

Yesterday, we decided to have lunch in Sisophon.  At this point, a 40 minute round trip drive just for onion rings seems perfectly reasonable.  In fact, a lot of things that used to seem strange or exotic are now just a part of my daily life.  They still give me a chuckle though.

Shopping at the market is always a culinary and potentially life threatening adventure.  That cabbage looks positively divine.  I'll take the one with the most flies on it.

Mmmmm...and I'll take a dozen of those eggs that have been fermenting in crap for 3 months.

Want some coconuts?  Excuse me while I grab my machete, climb the rickety ladder made of sticks, and hack a few off.

I'm not sure of the exact moment when I knew I was totally accepted by the Cambodians.  Perhaps it was when I slapped a bunch of talcum powder on some burly dude's face, drenched him with water, hurled pieces of ice, and he didn't kill me.    

Walking in Circles

When Cynthia informed me that there was no school on Friday because it was a holiday, I laughed and asked, "What holiday did Laum make up this time?"  (I knew there were no official public holidays until September.)  It turns out it is a real holiday - or rather a special occasion which will only take place this year.  I know what you're thinking.  Cambodia has a ton of holidays.  School is always closing for this or that holiday.  It may seem that way, but in reality, the schools in Cambodia are in session for many more days than the United States.  True, there are a lot of holidays, but they are only one day, and often occur in the middle of the week, so you can't go out of town, or out of the village in my case.  In the U.S., schools get a 2 week Fall break,  2 day Thanksgiving Break, 2 weeks for Christmas, long weekend for Easter, and then there is Spring Break.  That adds up to far more relaxation time.

King Father Norodom Sihanouk died a while ago, and today begins a 3 day ceremony to acknowledge his life and move his remains.  There will be a 13 kilometer procession in Phnom Penh where soldiers, police, and monks will take his ashes from the Royal Palace and bring them back to the Royal Palace.  I'm not sure why they need to march around for hours, only to return to the same place.  Anyway, his remains will be placed in the Silver Pagoda, next to his daughter's burial place.  She died of leukemia at age 4.  (The picture above shows the view from the Silver Pagoda at the King's Palace.  It's called the Silver Pagoda because the floor is made entirely of silver.)

The King was beloved by everyone, and 20,000 people lined the streets to watch the march.  I asked if anyone was doing anything special here in our village.  The teachers told me that some people will go to the pagodas to pay their respects, and some will watch the event on t.v. 

The monks began their usual chanting at just past 4 a.m. this morning.  They usually stop after a couple hours, but today they chanted all day.  I don't have to go to the pagoda to take part since their loudspeaker allows me to "enjoy" the ceremony right here in my bedroom. 

Weird Science

A while ago, we were talking about the increasing flood problems in my 7th grader class when I asked the students to name other types of natural phenomenon that can be disastrous.  There was total silence.  Nobody could name a single one.  I listed some on the board, and they just gave me blank looks.  This wasn't surprising.  Their knowledge really doesn't extend the limits of Mongkol Borei.  They can't point out various locations in Cambodia on a map, let alone find another country.  Once, I asked a student to point to England, and he just stared at the map in confusion.

I decided it was time to do some cross-curricular lessons, and what better place to start than volcanoes.  Why volcanoes?  Well, they are totally cool, and teenagers like to see stuff blow up.  I taught them the definition of volcano, explained the vocabulary such as lava, steam, ash, explode, etc, and showed them videos on youtube of volcano eruptions.  They drew pictures of volcanoes.  I showed them pictures of the time I went volcano-boarding, and described the experience.  They couldn't believe that people do such a thing, but they thought the scar on my leg was impressive.  I asked who would like to go volcano-boarding, and three students raised their hands (all girls I would like to add). 

Then, it was time to make a volcano.  When I told them we would have to go outside because it was going to make a big mess, they all cheered and ran down the stairs.  I explained that the Coke bottle was the volcano, and the Mentos was the lava.  I opened the bottle and threw in about 8 Mentos.  The results were good.  The soda exploded, and the kids had the opportunity to witness the power of Mentos. 

Afterwards, I gave each student a Mentos candy (which they have not tried before), and told them to eat it.  They were hesitant.  I think they were afraid their mouths would explode.  I popped one in my mouth to show them that it was o.k.  One boy sniffed his first before warily putting it in his mouth. 

Another day, I asked the students, "How can insects walk on water?"  They looked confused, and thought about this.  One students said, "Because they are lighter than the water?"  I said, "What about those spiders that walk on water?  They are heavier than the water." 

I pulled out a paper clip, and told the students to pretend it was an insect.  I asked several of them to try to make the paper clip float on the top of the water.  They tried, and of course, it just sunk to the bottom.  I told them that I could make it float.  They were skeptical but curious.

I cut a small piece of tissue, placed it on the water, put the paper clip on top, and then slowly pushed the tissue down.  The paper clip remained floating on the top.  They were astonished.  I asked, "How is this possible?"  No one had a clue, so I explained about "surface tension."  They took notes, and we discussed the vocabulary.

Then, I let the students try the experiment too.  They all wanted to try, and thought it was great.

Don't You Wanna...?

It appears I may have a problem.  In the States, I usually drink diet Pepsi or Dr. Pepper, but diet or "light" sodas are often unavailable in third world countries.  When I travel Fanta is my drink of choice.  Now, I have discovered the Holy Land.  Orange Fanta was my gateway flavor.  But then, that wasn't enough.  I needed a new fix.  When I discovered grapefruit Fanta, I thought, "Wow, it can't get any better than this!"  It turns out - it can.  Cambodia has the widest variety of Fanta flavors in the world.  (This statement may not actually be a fact, but I've travelled through about different 20 countries, so I figure my research on this topic is fairly accurate.)  So far, I have have added more flavors to this addiction: orange, grape, fruit punch, strawberry, sarsaparilla, and blueberry.  I only found blueberry once, and never saw it again.  Bummer, it was good.  Currently, my favorite is sarsaparilla which tastes like Root Beer, only more sugary.  You have no idea how refreshing a cold soda is on a blistering hot day after teaching in classrooms with no a.c.  Strangely, as abundant as this drink is, I have yet to actually see a Cambodian drink it.  

The Suburbs of Mongkol Borei

I visited Kim's family last weekend to see Seyhak and grandma.  Although I have made this trip many times, it's still difficult to distinguish their house from everyone else's.  I used to look for all the ducks in their front yard, but they sold them, and now it looks like every other house in the village.  There are certain landmarks that I look for.  They live between a pagoda and the bridge.  If I reach the bridge, I've gone too far and just turn around.  Well, I drove past their house again on this trip, and I heard Kim calling my name, so I turned around.  We all laughed at my mistake, and Kim asked, "Why don't you know my house?"  I said, "The houses look the same.  They're all a bunch of sticks with some aluminum on top."  I explained that often the houses in the U.S. look the same too, but we have numbers on them, so we can tell them apart.

Nobody has an address here, not even our school.  A person's address is something like: Go down the path, past the bridge, and turn left at the big plumeria tree. 

Seyhak is 5 months old now, so he wants to turn over, squirm, and move around.  Kim told me that he wakes her up at night.  She said, "Kerri, your Godson is so nasty.  (Cambodians mean naughty when they say nasty.)  He wake me up and punch me.  Oh, I get so mad."  I told her that he wasn't doing it on purpose, and since he's getting stronger, he wants to move around.  After she told me that he also fell out of the hammock and bumped his head on the ground, I suggested that they put him in their big orange cooler.  My humor was not appreciated.

Like any mother, Kim thinks her child is extremely gifted and smarter than other babies.  She proudly pointed out that he could hold the bottle by himself now.  "Look Kerri.  He so clever!"  I didn't mention that all babies his age can do that.

Recently, Kim told me that she gave Seyhak a cookie.  This information concerned me because he's teething and isn't ready for cookies.  I told her he should only eat soft foods.  She said, "But Kerri, he so clever.  He want to help my mom in the kitchen, and he grab everything and put it in his mouth."  Oh dear...  Where do I begin?  I had to explain that all babies want to touch everything and put it in their mouth; that's how they learn about the world.  And just because he wants to eat something, doesn't mean she should let him.  She looked doubtful at this advice, so I put it a different way.  I said, "He puts his toes in his mouth.  Do you want him to eat his toes?" 

When Kim told me that she fed Seyhak bananas, and he got diarrhea, I realized that this could become a big problem.  He could choke or get really sick.  She really had no idea what a baby should eat.  I made a list of what babies should eat at different stages during their first year, along with appropriate portion sizes.  I told her to slowly introduce soft foods.  She glanced at the list, picked up a mangosteen and said, "Look Kerri, he want to eat."  (A mangosteen is the size of a ping pong ball.)  I decided that a demonstration was in order.  I picked up a knife, cut a small piece off, mashed it up, and fed it to him.  Kim watched this, then proceeded to continue to hold the rest of the mangosteen in front of Seyhak's mouth, so he could suck it.  I realized that I was not making much progress here.  Kim is very stubborn.  She loves to boss people around, and give advice on every subject.  However, she rarely takes any advice or criticism herself.  (One time Cynthia grunted, "That's probably why her husband left her.")

Kim looked at my list again and said in a surprised manner, "Babies can eat all these foods?  Not just rice?"  I had listed boiled sweet potato, beans, peas, pears, etc.  I said yes.  She asked, "Is this what babies in your country eat?  Oh, they big and strong."  I said, "Yes, and don't you want Seyhak to grow big and strong too?"  I told her that the rice they eat only has carbohydrates which give energy, but it doesn't have the vitamins necessary to grow up healthy.  I made her promise to feed him a variety of foods, but not give him candy or anything sugary during his first year.

This whole episode was bizarre to me because I don't have children.  It seems like this sort of thing would be common sense, but you can't expect "common sense" in Cambodia.  Not in a country that is barely recovering from a long war and the loss of all the intellectuals.

Meanwhile, Kim's mother kept asking if she could make me some lunch.  I politely declined.  Kim knows I stopped eating rice a while ago, and she's been very concerned about this.  Her mom wanted to know what I could possibly eat instead of rice.  I listed off a bunch of items.  Then her mom asked, "Do you get full?" 

Kim and her mother also told me that I could take Seyhak back to the United States, raise him myself, and give him a good education.  They were serious.  I tried to make a joke about it and then quickly changed the subject.  Kim also suggested that when I retire I could move to Cambodia and live with her and Seyhak.  I thought, "Wow, that sounds horrible."  I decided it was more polite to just say, "Thank you."