Apologies to my regular readers, hopefully there’s at least one of you :o), I’ve been a bit remiss these last couple of weeks but it’s certainly not due to a lack of subject matter or motivation to write. It’s simply making the time although the time when taken, is extremely cathartic as I process and make sense of all that I’ve seen and done. Have I mentioned how small Phnom Penh is? It’s a town of 1.4 million people inhabiting 290km squared - that’s approximately 4,500 people per square km. By comparison Brisbane has 1.8million people that inhabit 5,904 km squared – that’s approximately 918 people per square km. And the best bit is that I can walk 5mins in one direction and 10 mins in the other to two of the bigger supermarkets. I headed out on foot tonight around 5.30pm, a beautiful time in Phnom Penh. The broiling sun is about to set, a gentle breeze is stirring up the heat that’s been cloying at you all day and the light is making everything look as if it’s all been created by some exceptional artist. I set out for some essentials (floor cleaner and light bulb) and some come back with some not so essentials, Vodka Cruisers, pate and banana cake) and of course I get asked if I “would like Moto” on average 7.5 times on the outward and return journey but that’s ok, I’d be thinking something was wrong if they didn’t ask. A lovely friend of mine once said they should just charge you a $30 entrance fee when you walk into a supermarket because no matter how little you intend on buying when you go in, you’ll always come out having spent at least $30. In P.P its $14usd! I have to share my excitement on discovering NZ apples while I was ther, I don’t care what anybody else says these are the best apples in the world! Wahhooooo. I can’t even get these babies in Oz. I started cycling to work a couple of times last week. I set off nice and early the first day but badly misjudged the time it would take and ended up 45 mins early for work. I took the opportunity to give the trusty white stead a wash down so she was bright and shiny until at least the time I came to ride her home – the dust is unbelievable! Cycling takes about as long as it does to moto – am a bit more manoeuvrable on the bike, defter at ducking and diving. I wished I could take a video of the journey in an attempt to share some of the experience, the noise and chaos. Where lanes serve no other purpose than to simply be white markings on the road, where motorbikes barrel towards you on the wrong side of the road, where a cycle, motorbike, Lexus 4x4, truck, cyclo and pedestrian can all share the same half of a two lane road pretty much side by side, where red lights seem only to apply to cars and trucks, where indicators are judged as passé and you simply shouldn’t be driving or riding unless you have a mobile phone attached to your ear. Oh, and please make the most of your motos ability to replace a removal truck – queen sized mattresses, bookshelves, a cage of chickens and the entire family are all respectable loads for a moto rider. I drew up to a set of lights last week as a lovely Khmer guy on a moto rode slowly past lifting his butt cheek as he went and let out a massive fart! I nearly fell off my bike from disbelieve and from laughter. Trying to do my New Year Body Challenge DVD is quite hard in an unairconditioned room of tiles. If I’m not slipping off my exercise ball my hands are sliding across the floor as I attempt to do a push-up in the sweat. Creating a mild risk to ones well being at the same time as improving it, is just another of the mild idiosyncrasies of living here.

Last Saturday I headed out with Mara to assist her teach the middle class of a school that both houses, feeds and schools children who’s families live and create an income from the Phnom Penh dump. The children go to their families on a Saturday night but return from the dirt and grim to the relative sanctuary of the school on a Sunday evening. They attend school every day and on Saturday mornings volunteers like Mara visit the school for two hours to bring the children a bit of variety. They’re clean and tidy in their white tops with blue trousers or skirts, like the majority of school children in Phnom Penh. They rise when you walk into the classroom and say in chorus “good morning teacher, thank you for coming to teach us today”. They politely ask if they can go to the bathroom when they need to go and love to join in the singing. Drawing on the other hand did not seem to be a favourite and it took a while before they got into the full swing of it and the bright colourful rainbows began to appear. They’re very tactile (like most Cambodians) and hold your arm when you crouch to talk to them, sneaking in a hug when/if they get the chance. They’re proud to show what they’ve achieved and seek out praise and ask for help willingly. They run outside eagerly at break time to play but clean up the classroom without being asked at the end of the lesson. I spoke to one of the Cambodian teachers in the break and he said the difference in the children from when they first start is really remarkable. Gone are the filthy dirty, rude and uncooperative wee tyrants. The headmistress chatted to me on her way out – she was going to see a family and try and talk them into letting their daughter return to the school. The family’s oldest daughter had been killed, run over by a truck at the dump in the previous weeks and so to replace her, the family removed from the school one of the twins sisters that attended. She was the better worker of the two and would help to replace the income of the older daughter. A hard job for the headmistress who understands the competing needs. Short term gain for the family, versus the long term development of the daughter and her chance at a better life, both for herself and her family. I hope she was successful in convincing the family. I spent Saturday afternoon doing some Khmer practice over a Chai tea and then got some sun at a hotel pool. Then it was AGM week and we were all flat out at work in preparation. I was the only Medicam staff member at the hotel on the Thursday morning as all the NGO’s began arriving to set up their exhibitions. That was fun as I tried to sort out everything with limited communication skills – all came together in the end! It was a very interesting day and a half as I listened to the presentations and debate and visited the exhibitions to read and pick up pamphlets on what is happening in the health sector. Things that stuck in mind were stats like the Cambodian road toll is 6 deaths per day!!! And the incidences of acid attacks this year is already 3!!!! They had 12 in total last year. When I asked the staff what on earth is the motivation for an acid attack they responded that mostly its jealousy and love triangles, unbelievable! The hotel put on some awesome food and we danced on Thursday night in celebration of MEDiCAMs 20 years – I was lucky enough to avoid any crazy ladies this time. Friday night I enjoyed a few well earned red wines with some other volunteers and a Khmer friend. Saturday morning I got up early and went to a hotel with free internet to Skype Bec. That was great as we had our first really successful Skype session. After that I headed my moto down to the riverside and onto a ferry to take me across the Mekong to visit Peta. We took her moto for the next part of the journey – Scoobys not really made for off-roading :o) We headed about 10kms along a bumpy dirt main road where we got into a rhythm of covering our mouths to save being the recipient of a mouthful of dust whenever a truck sped past. It was so lovely to be in the country on a sunny but partly cloudy day. We passed road side stalls, houses and shops which included dentists and pharmacies of a very primitive looking nature. We also passed multiple skinny white cows, their necks adorned with impressive collars bells a-tinkering as they plodded to and from the river for a swim. There were mango trees and Wats and a funny tree with something like cotton growing high in it’s branches. Peta explained that they use the white fluffy stuff to fill pillows and cushions – arr that explains the stuff in the overstuffed pillow I bought when I first got here. We arrive at the ferry stop and watch as our ferry makes it slow way across the river towards us. A moto driver has also pulled up with a woven straw basket of about 20 piglets all squawking fit to burst! The poor wee mites all stand on top of each other as they struggle for purchase on the circular basket. Interestingly the piglets tails are all straight – the curly bit already cut off for someone’s dinner? I’m not sure. The ferry is small and only ourselves and a couple of other motos hop on. All the way along the river you can see brown glistening bodies in the water just swimming and larking about or rubbing their cows down as they stand neck high in the water. It’s a tranquil scene as our ferry putt-putts across to the island on the other side. This is a silk producing island and all the way along the main road you can see the houses on stilts sheltering silk looms beneath. We bump and bounce along the rutted road and I can’t possibly imagine what it would be like in the wet season. We have to pay an entrance fee on entry to the beach and are escorted by a man who wants to sell us some food. There are simple beach huts all along the beach with thatched roofs, four poles, a raised floor and no walls, and we chose one at a good distance from all the children – well peace and quiet is partly what we’re here for. They lay mats on the floor of the hut for us and we are immediately surrounded by people wanting to sell us sticky rice and jackfruit, bananas, green mangoes, chicken and rice etc. We end up having a small feast and a lovely lazy afternoon of chatting while a lovely breeze keeps us cool. The children eventually come to visit, all butt naked, curious and full of mischief as they splash about in the water next to us. One of the more daring ones sidles up to our left over rice stuffs her fist full of rice into her mouth and quickly moves away only to return a few more times until she’s satisfied her hunger. We have a Khmer coffee as we wait for our ferry to return to take us back to Petas. Its cold coffee served on ice with condensed milk lining the bottom of the glass. Delicious! The shack selling the coffee is full of men all watching a Cambodian boxing match, screaming their delight at some good move and groaning and slapping their plastic chairs at a bad move. They’ve got money riding on this! It’s been a beautiful day and the ferry ride home is a delight as the sun is low and glints majestically of the river. Myself and Mara set off to the Russian market early so I can get my piece of material made into a Sombot Som (traditional Khmer skirt) and I can get another skirt altered. We then head south on our pushbikes stopping to get some air in our tyres and then stopping a few minutes later as my front tyre goes flat. It seems a cycle guy is every 500 metres or so and we stop at the next one who has my tube sorted in 5 mins and all for the measly sum of 25c!

We travel for about half an hour on a busy main road that would just pass as an unmaintained back country road at home. We’re thankful for the well padded seats as we bump along to the chorus of car horns tooting frequently and loudly. The toots are however, to simply let us know they’re there and to watch out not to chastise us for daring to be on the road. The ride, and the dust and noise is more than worth it as we arrive at our destination. It’s a hotel seemingly in the middle of nowhere with an oasis of a swimming pool. We can’t quite believe our luck as we’ve discovered a small piece of paradise in sweaty, noisy, dusty Phnom Penh. We stay for hours reading on the sun loungers and taking dips in the pool as well as sampling the divine sorbet. What a weekend! What a life!

A weekend at the beach and english speaking soldiers

Two months yesterday it was! Incredible how that time has past in a blink and incredible that I’ve actually been disciplined enough to keep writing my blog – are you impressed Miss? :o) A new group of volunteers arrived from Australia this week one of whom is coming to work here with me – YEAH! It will be good to have someone just to bounce ideas off, go to lunch and have a laugh with. Don’t get me wrong, I have laughs with some of my other workmates, especially Khun (see photo in post dated February 10) he’s got a great, dry sense of humor and quite often cracks me up. The week has kind of passed in a blur – a long weekend down on the coast at Sihanouk Ville and back to work Tuesday where things have gone into bedlam mode as we prepare for our AGM next week. It’s the 20 year anniversary of MEDiCAM this year so the Health Minister and other important government types will be attending, important stuff! I have been organizing placement of the NGO’s exhibitions as well as designing brochures and flyers for our own exhibition – it's great to be involved and to feel like I'm adding some value. The Trainers I came here to support finally arrived this week so I’ve also been trying to get some organization happening there, creating an action plan, finalizing the curriculum etc. But now onto more important topics – our weekend at the beach! I’ve really never thought of myself as anything other than “odd” and the fact that I hate sand, swimming and waves yet still LOVE going to the beach only proves my theory! Our taxi ride down was uneventful other than the normal “oh my god, we’re going to die in a head-on collision” scenario and the fact that the driver drove for km’s on end with his indicators on while I slowly went mad with the noise of it! Rear vision mirrors are optional it would appear as ours had been covered with an LCD screen and we enjoyed Khmer Karaoke for 4 hours – did I say enjoy? We picked up crazy Cara at Kampong Speu (affectionately known as the Spew) enroute, and landed in Sihanouk Ville and more precisely, Serendipity Beach around 7.30pm. Our accommodation was fine, if a little rustic (the toilet seemed to do a little dance underneath you as you sat down or moved) but with an awesome view of the ocean. We were drink in hand at one of the numerous bar/cafes on the beach by 8pm and were absorbing that sublime “I’m at the beach atmosphere”. Our waiter, a western guy was clearly living on planet “I’ve been here smoking awesome weed for the last 6 months man” managed to keep the drinks coming in a steady stream. The stream consisted of beers for 50c and spirits for a dollar! We moved onto a venue with a dance floor (all on the beach) where a young, friendly but crazy Israeli backpacker was dancing with two young Khmer girls showing them his crazy dance moves. The girls were having an awesome time, crazy dancing, throwing ice and water at him - all innocent fun but you couldn’t help but think about how easily they could be exploited in a country notorious for it. Thankfully we discovered there was a couple supervising the them who they eventually left on the back of a motorbike with. The rest of the weekend followed the same kind of theme, beach during the day, dinner, drinking and partying until the wee small hours. For some of us the hours were weer than others – hey, I need my beauty sleep! :o) We did get a bit of rain over the weekend which was unusual but nice to hear it pattering on the roof as you lay in your hammock or mosquito net covered bed. Sunday we discovered Otres Beach which was truly gorgeous compared to Serendipity. Harder to get to and therefore less people which is turn means less pollution. Serendipity is a fairly typical touristy beach in SouthEast Asia in that there are too many tourists, hawkers and a rubbish situation that is not well managed by the local authorities. Get past that and it’s not that bad. Otres on the other hand, had clear waters, fine sand and few "you want to buy braclet or sarong" sellers to annoy you as you louged. The sauna was complimentary on the return bus trip to Phnom Penh as the air conditioner struggled to throw out anything other than a warm-breath kind of breeze. That was not to be the end of the fun on our bus trip though, we broke down about 10km out of P.P. Ot bunyaha (no problem in Khmer) , as we completed the last part of our journey in the slowest Tuk-tuk known to man while the bus continued to bunny-hop (a pretty impressive feat for a bus) in the car park where it had chosen to end it's journey. I managed to get in some exercise time during the week to try and offset the abuse I had put my body, my temple through. Let us just say the temple needed some minor repair work and a good hose and scrub. Thursday night four of us joined a group from the Australian Embassy on a practice speaking English event at a Cambodian military academy. They put on a BBQ and drinks for us and all we had to do was stand around and chat with the soldiers. It was actually quite interesting and fun. I taught one of them to say “laid back” he thought it was a great saying. I love the way they are not bashful or shy about expressing their emotions – one of them who’s Khmer name means February (as that was the month he was born in – makes sense) said he reads the English papers every day to help learn English and explained that it makes him very sad reading the papers and he in fact quite often cries. Maybe some of it was lost in translation but it was still touching that he would even talk about it. From what I could gather the majority of them only join up to gain the free education with learning English at the top of the list. They can also gain scholarships to go and train in places like the States, China and Australia. They all talked about their villages and want you to visit them there. February invited me to come and visit him on my way back from Thailand at New Year (he lives on the Cambodian/Thai border) and said he would make a party for me listing all the meat he would provide. They politely told us it was a pleasure to meet us and to please make sure and come back next month. A lovely evening. Thought I'd include some photos on this week blog: First - daughter helping Mum on her stall at Psar Órsay Second - the trusty Scooby Third - at work Last - Another stall at Orsay Market - love those pink eggs!

Goodbyes, and a Khmer wedding

Pretty amazing to think I’ve spent approximately 22 hours sharing the same motorbike seat as someone and I’ve spoken fewer words to them, in that time, than I would speak at my regular dentist checkup. So, we didn’t really have big chats me and Yuan but we still managed to have some laughs, like the way I'd laugh as the rear-vision mirror reflected the look of horror on his face when we had a near miss and that would make him start laughing too. He’d also get a good laugh out of my feeble attempts to communicate with him in Khmer. Without conversation I was also able to get a basic understanding of what type of person he is, trustworthy, kind and considerate – he’d always check to make sure my big legs were fitting as we attempted to squeeze ourselves through a narrow gap between two cars. It's actually nice not to talk or nice not to feel compelled to fill the space. And therefore, it was a bit of a strange feeling as he dropped me off on the Friday night and I thanked him for keeping me safe and provided him with a bit of extra money. I think I’ll miss his big cheeky grin. Maybe he misses me as well as he sent me this text on Monday “Hello miss vek ky (think this is meant to be Jacqui) HOWare you? Good BY THankyou”. Now the cynical ones of us could say he was just keeping me sweet to keep some money coming in but either way, it made me smile that he’d gone to the effort. Friday night was a night of drinking (which included a cocktail that tasted like almond icing), dancing at Elsewhere (which still hasn’t closed down) and Mr Jim, our legendary Tuk Tuk driver seeing us all safely home again. My head did not seem to agree with my choice of drinks the next morning as I struggled to get myself ready for a shopping trip with one of the ladies from work. She picked me up from Lucky Supermarket and before I knew what was going on, I’d agree to go to work with her and help in the writing of a proposal. I was really in no fit state to shop, let alone work but somehow I managed to survive the day. It was actually a good experience for breaking down any remaining barriers and it gave me the opportunity to show them what I’m capable of. There were six of us working and we all went out to lunch together. It was fun to go to a real Khmer restaurant and try some different foods; I always seem to find something I really like. It also meant I got invited to a Khmer wedding they were all attending the next night – the It assistant was getting married. I’d already been invited to a friends birthday drinks but it was too good an opportunity to miss. Kalyan offered to drive me as the wedding was being held at the Brides family’s home and was quite some distance out of Phnom Penh. While I was waiting for her at our rendezvous point – the Royal Palace, a well dressed Khmer man of (I’m guessing) about 40 years of age came up to me for a chat. His English was pretty good and he asked me the usually, where I was from, how long was I in Cambodia for, who did I work for. Then he said “I would like to take you on my motorbike to go for a chat” – this was a little unnerving I have to admit. He said he was alone, his mother had died during the Khmer Rouge time and his father had died 4 years ago from what sounded like cirrhosis of the liver, there was definitely drink involved anyway. I think the poor bloke was lonely but I was pretty glad when Kalyan turned up. She’d brought her 6 year old son with her and it was just so adorable hearing him chatter away in Khmer. The wedding was a vibrant, noisy and joyous affair with lots of streamers, fake snow and fruit. The Khmer women provide most of the color through their makeup and costumes which sparkled and gleamed. Groups arrive throughout the night and get served a meal soon after they arrive – that would have to be a bit of a logistical nightmare but the 4 or 5 courses (I lost count) always arrived hot. The men stand up and do “cheers” over and over again at their individual tables. The drinks are soft or beer only and the beer is served warm with great dollops of ice. The local children wander about the wedding tent asking for the cans off the tables for which they’ll gain some cash. It’s a bit disconcerting that even at a private function you are still exposed to the scrimping for survival. When I get up to take some photos the a lady at the table next to us is very animated about something – I understand that she wants me to take her photo and she giggles with delight as I show her the end product. She then equally animatedly asks me something else and through help I understand that she wants me to have two dances with her – very specific about the two she was. The band is all Khmer and the dancing is all Khmer but music is music and you can always find a beat somewhere. They all move around the centre table that is piled high with fruit. The moves are very deliberate and the hands are the main focus. The animated woman grabbed me in the middle of dessert and dragged me up to the dance floor, she gave the MC instructions and the next thing the bands back playing again and he’s announcing to the whole wedding that I’m about to dance and that I was to lead. God, you wouldn’t want to be shy. A lovely old man kept coming up to me with his thumbs up – giving me much needed encouragement. Everywhere I looked out into the audience, as the wedding guests had now become, I saw big smiles – at least they were enjoying it. Kids laughed at me and practiced their “hallos” as I went round and round the table to a song that just wouldn’t seem to end. There were some funky Khmer songs and a few men came up and presented me with mandarins while I was dancing with my workmates to these songs. Soon the evening was over or so I thought although the animated lady thought otherwise. Instead of gifts everyone puts money into the envelopes provided for each group of guests. It was while I was trying to sort this out that she grabbed me and hauled me up to the dance floor again. She just wouldn’t take no for an answer and I had to yell behind me to Sopheak the IT guy from work to look after my stuff. We danced another song with her and her husband while he give me instructions on how to hold my hands and turn them gently at the wrists. It was enlightening although becoming less fun as I saw the MEDiCAM crew all leaving. At the end of that 8 hour song I tried to beat a retreat but she just would not let me go, physically pulling me back onto the floor. I was actually starting to feel very uncomfortable about how I was going to handle this situation. Thank goodness a friend of the lady’s came to my rescue and when I explained that I had to go as my friends were leaving without me, the animated lady finally stopped manhandling me and let me go. It reminded me of being a child at a wedding when someone’s drunk great old Aunty May wont let you go. Except in this case, the woman wasn’t drunk.