Travelin with Jacq

Hair Salon, Phnom Penh, Cambodia

2010-07-24T02:17:00.004+10:00

Back in Cambodian and running a hairdressing salon and training school. Six months of saving all my pennies in Australia and back to Phnom Penh where I've set up one of the few western hairdressing salons. I'll be offering all the services you'd expect from back home, with a speciality in foiled hilights and the comfort of nice surroundings and great service! 70% of all proceeds from the salon will go directly towards the Chocolate Blonde Training school. The training school will be established later this year and will train disadvantage Cambodians in the fundamentals of hairdressing. Come and check us out at: Chocolate Blonde Cambodia Salon #18, Street 242 Between streets 51 and 57 and two blocks from SOS Medical Centre. Ph. 077995160

Cambodia - Lovin it/Not lovin it, Christmas photos

2009-12-28T01:24:00.002+10:00

I ♥ Cambodia / I not ♥ Cambodia Now the time to leave is drawing near, I've been thinking about what I've liked and disliked about being here - thought I'd share it. I'm sure those of you living here or that have lived here in thepast could add some of your own gems. . . . .

Likes

• The open and honest smiles on (almost) everybody’s face

• Cheap fruit shakes

• The gorgeously adorable children

• The easy going way someone will help out, just because they can see help is needed with no thought about what might be in it for them

• Bespoke shoes for around $18

• The traditional fabric

• The fact you can buy a big satisfying lunch for $2

• The way they tell you without any qualms that you have gotten fat and with absolutely no trace of malice

• Good, cheap dentistry

• Cheap cocktails

• Mr Jim, our nighttime Tuk tuk driver who always gets us home safe at any hour of night/morning, fending off would-be muggers and making sure we're locked in behind our gate before driving off

• Ability to get good, cheap massages and facials whenever you fancy it

• That there are pubs where you can dance without having to pay a cover charge

• The fact that there’s a dude with a compressor on every street corner to fix your flat tire and only charge you only 25c

• The fact everyone feels comfortable enough to share updates on their bowel movements

• Monk blessings

• Knowing that if you smile at a stranger you will also get a big beaming smile in return

• The general warmth of the people

• The cheap tailors

• The hearty laughter even when it’s not that funny and especially when its laughter at your own joke

• Being told you speak very good Khmer when you’ve only said “hallo”

• Being told you look beautiful and not because they want to have sex with you

Dislikes

• Poo Street (open sewer that runs the length of a street right across one end of Phnom Penh)

• Obnoxious 4x4 drivers

• Lack of the concept of traffic lanes

• The machete welding angry people

• The way that every Tuk Tuk driver in a street lined with them asks you if you want a Tuk Tuk, even though you’ve just walked past 20 of them saying no. Or you’re on your bicycle and they want to know if you want a Tuk Tuk??

• Chaffing and bra rash

• Beer is served warm with ice

• Spitting and peeing on the street

• Your workmates peeing with the door open

• Constantly having loose bowel movements

• The fact that every meeting you attend is so disorganized that you waste half of your time waiting for it to start and the other half waiting for people to do work that should have been done before or after the meeting.

• Being laughed at your feeble attempts to speak Khmer

• Being stared at when you eat

• Never ever getting everybody’s meals at the same time

• Tuk tuk drivers always saying “yes” when asked if they know where somewhere is – even though they don’t

• Corruption

Accidents, hairdressing and plans for home

2009-12-01T12:13:00.007+10:00

Thirty days – that is all that is left of my adventure in Cambodia, this time around anyway. Cambodia has thrown me some curve balls in my time here. Some in the form of interesting “firsts” including three episodes of fainting, one trip to hospital, a motorbike accident, consumption of a cricket and having an IV drip put in my arm only for it to end up giving me a blood clot. And yet, something has taken hold of me and doesn’t seem to want to let go. The voice in my head is telling me it’s not time to leave, but on the other hand I'm looking forward to living in the house I bought before I left, catching up on missed time with my dear friends and riding my beautiful Pinrello again! During the Water Festival, at the start of November, myself and a friend Mara, decided to hire a motorbike to get ourselves to Kampong Speu Province and up Kirirom Mountain. It being green, quiet, a few degrees cooler than Phnom Penh, scenically stunning (or so we’d been told) and resident to a resort and swimming pool. The resort turned out to be disappointing, the service terrible, the food mediocre but the pool was lovely and refreshing. I ended up demonstrating to the wait staff how to make a vodka and pineapple having asked for three different cocktails on their list and being told each time “no have”. Unfortunately the resort was the only part of Kirirom that we got to see on that trip. We came off the motorbike early the next morning halfway up the mountain. A Khmer guy was luckily standing in the vicinity and promptly lifted the bike off us and then us off the road. He then kindly (??) rubbed tiger balm into my open wounds! Thank gaud for the numbing effects of shock as it really didn’t hurt as much as tiger balm on an open wound ought to and somehow it actually ended up making the pain fade. I lay on the side of the road for awhile until an authority from the mountain came and organized to have us and the motorbike moved to the nearest Khmer-style picnic area. In the meantime numerous cars and motos stopped and not all of them just for a gawk, no, some of the real sweeties came with offerings in their hand – you guessed it, more tiger balm! Not only was it rubbed in my wounds, it was rubbed on my forehead and temples, around my nose – I think they would have put me in a bath of it if they could have – so sweet. Not so sweet was the guy who drove us the two minutes to the picnic area and then tried to charge us $10 for his effort. The Mountain official organized a mini van from a nearby village to come and pick us and the motorbike up off the mountain and return us to Phnom Penh. While we waited a monk who had visited us at the crash site had rung his godfather (a doctor) to come and check us over. He spoke no English but was happy to mop up the wounds and administer three injections to me, one in each arm and one in my butt. Luckily I don’t have an issue with needles, the young Khmer boys watching the proceedings however, ran off squealing when the first shot went in. Mara wasn’t far behind them! It was an unusual and quite unorthodox scene as two Khmer men firstly rolled me on my side, pulled down my shorts and knickers enough to expose butt cheek then proceed to pull everything back into place a bit too enthusiastically so that a wedgey ensued post the shot. Mara thankfully made a note of the drugs being used and we confirmed later at the hospital that they were only pain killers. The mini van trip back to Phnom Penh took three hours, our driver seeing an opportunity to make some extra cash by scouting for additional passengers at each town we went through. We soon put our “cranky-we’ve-just-had-an-accident-we-need-to-get-to-hospital-we’ve-already-paid-you-10-times-over-the-going-rate” hat on. The trip went with speed after that until we hit a road block (literally!) on the outskirts of Phnom Penh. The Phnom Penh City Council in all its wisdom had set roadblocks up all over the city to stop people entering for the Water Festival. (Thousands come from villages all over Cambodia, more than doubling Phnom Penh’s population and generally creating gridlock, mayhem and an amazing carnival atmosphere. The officials manning the roadblock refused us entry and suggested we get a moto into town from there?? Mara knew another road to get into town so we directed the driver on that route only to get stopped once again. This time I leapt out of the van and approached the guards with all wounds exposed and pointing at my broken and gouged elbow saying I live in Phnom Penh and need to get to hospital. The highest ranking guard (I presume by the amount of pips on his uniform) nodded his assent and we proceeded through only to be stopped down the road by another roadblock. By this time both of us had become completely frayed around the edges but thankfully a Khmer speaking friend with a car had answered my desperate call for help. The relief was immense, having someone come and take control. The motorbike was bundled into a Tuk Tuk and we were whisked off to the nearest hospital. The hospital turned out to be very swish, a pleasant surprise and they looked after us brilliantly. That was nearly a month ago now, all our wounds have healed and I only have 9 more days in my cast! It is 34 years since I was last in one and I had really forgotten how restrictive it all is although Mum and Dad were there to be at my beck and call then and I wasn’t living in constant 30+ degree heat! Mara arranged for one of the students from her University to come and help me with housework and bagging up for showers etc. And as always my friends have been awesome, taking turns at redressing my wounds, getting groceries in, cooking me meals and taking the “invalid” out. It’s all just added to my Cambodia experience. What else? While I was waiting for my new assignment to be sorted and confirmed I started hairdressing training with some Khmer girls who work in the salon of a friend of a friend. Its 14 years since I’ve been a hairdresser but like riding a bike you don’t forget. I thoroughly enjoyed my two mornings a week focusing on cutting techniques and customer care. The girls were such a joy to teach, readily soaking it all up. They took notes and put into practice straight away whatever new skill I taught. It’s definitely a barrier teaching students who don’t speak the same language as you but I had a lovely translator and it’s amazing how much you can transfer through gestures, sound effects and signs. I also confirmed in recent months that I would never make a nurse. I went on a visit to the dump to assist a friend that provides medical attention to the families living there. The first task he assigned me was cleaning up the arm of a man with a wound resulting from a machete attack. I squatted on the ground while he sat in a chair and tried my best to clean the wound of congealed blood and dirt. On standing up to get more cotton wool I started to see stars and didn’t feel so good. I told my friend I was feeling sick as I made my way back to my patient but came too a few seconds later sitting in the dirt! Apart from feeling extremely sick and very spaced out, I was mortally embarrassed as all the Khmer women and children waiting for medical attention giggled away merrily. I got brave after a bottle of water and half an hour more of sitting in the dirt and started handing up plasters to the “real” volunteers, the ones not fainting. It’s taken me almost 10 months to see my first road accident in Cambodia (actually my first ever and I would much rather have never had the experience) I was riding my bike near my home when a truck pulled out of a side street, I swerved behind the truck to avoid it but a couple (without helmets) on a motorbike decided to try and go around in front. The truck hit them and knocked them to the ground but instead of stopping the truck seemed to be still moving as the drivers legs disappeared beneath it. The woman passengers head hit the ground and bounced as the sound of metal ripping filled the air. For a second my instinct was to stop and help but then reason and my experience at the dump made me keep riding. I felt sick and guilty and with no idea what to do. Amazingly an ambulance was parked a little further down the road in preparation for some of the other calamity’s that make up Water Festival. There were lots of Khmers standing around with Red Cross shirts on and I kept asking if they spoke English until one of them did. He was calmness personified as I tried to be the same, explaining the situation while in my brain I was screaming at him to stop smiling, stop asking stupid questions and just frigging move his arse! From experience, to freak out or to show too much emotion would not have had a positive effect on this man. So I calmly answered his questions while trying to convey that haste was required. I took my queue to leave when he stopped asking questions, thanked me and wished me good luck. I’ll never know if he actually went to their aid or if they survived. Having discussed the accident with others since, the unanimous school of thought is never, ever stop at a road accident as chances are you’ll be blamed and/or expected to pay all damages. I find this really sad and hope that some Westerner, some day, that’s braver than me will stop and hopefully save someone’s life without negative repercussions. Being of only one arm and not being able to put my hair up I decided to visit my local market for a hair wash and braiding. It was quite an experience which involves shampoo being applied to dry hair while sitting in the chair. Water is then squirted from a bottle onto the hair to emulsify. The shampooing goes on for about 10 minutes with lots of scalp scrapping before you are moved to the basin. You’re rinsed here and there’s lots more massaging and applying of conditioner. Next is the complete wetting of the face and application of cleanser while still laying at the basin. This is followed by the dry folded towel being placed across the eyes with cold water poured on top. This is a bit shocking to the system when you’re not prepared for it but is actually really refreshing. You are taken back to your chair then and receive a 5 minute neck and shoulder massage. I also asked for a pedicure and all up it cost me $2.50! I started with a new NGO in early October much to my delight. Once again they’re lovely people but once again there’s very little work to do. What work there is, I get done in half the time they’ve allowed – estimations are based on Khmer not Western time. Our purpose is always to build capacity but as so often happens they are more than happy for us to do the work rather than teach them how to do it. The research work I have done to pull concept notes together has been really interesting. I’ve learnt about child and women exploitation, sex and labor trafficking, selling of children by parents etc. It’s pretty harrowing when I stop to think that this is modern day Cambodia I’m reading about and is not historical.

Cambodia Oct-Nov 2009 2

Electricians, changes and baguettes

2009-08-25T17:45:00.003+10:00

Gosh, here it is August. That would mean its . . . . . way too long since I last wrote. I was up at 5.40 this morning throwing on some running gear ready to meet Kiao who gives me a lift to the Olympic Stadiumhis on his moto. There’s a group of about 5 or 6 of us who meet twice a week to run and do strength work. Its torturous fun as each person has a turn at running the session and mixing up the exercises. I don’t think we’re happy unless we're sore a day or two afterwards. The Cambodians, I’m sure, think we’re nuts as they stare at us amazed while we lay on the grass performing all sorts of weird postures and positions. They’ll catch on one day – they’re still busy doing 1980’s aerobics at the moment. I’ve got a fair amount of free time at the moment so it’s nice to get some exercise in to start the day. This is a public blog so I wont be specific but will say that the volunteer organization I work with, after some investigation, have deemed it unsuitable for myself and the other volunteer working with me to continue to do so with our current Host organisation. It all happened pretty suddenly, within a week of me getting back from leave. It was a hard week with most people saying that they were sad that we were leaving and while everyone knew the real reason we were leaving but no one was talking about it. I miss the majority of the staff, they’re lovely people and it's unfair that they don’t have the luxury of being able to walk out like we did. It makes me feel all sorts of guilt, once again the westerner has the power and the choices. I'm still helping some of the staff with editing of English and it makes me happy to still be able to help out even if it is in such a small way. I try not to think that my 7 months has been a waste of time when I came here with such high notions of blazing a trail for development and progress. I produced some work I am proud of and some Cambodians have gained new skills and knowledge as a result of my work so that’s not so bad. I’ve gained some friends both inside and outside of work, Cambodian and Western and hopefully we’ve all gained something out of the brief encounter in each others lives. So my time out at Toul Kork with the goats and the $2 lunches has ended along with my dare-devil 20 mins rides to and from work. I need the runs to replace those heart starters each morning. :o) My next steps are still a little unclear but with only 4 months left until I return to Australia there really isn’t enough time to start all over in another volunteer role of the same type. It takes 2 months at least to build the relationships and begin to do some kind of solid work. Instead my thoughts at the moment are to do some more hands-on type of volunteer work. Perhaps vocational training or work in an orphanage, when and where I can. A few anecdotes: Rent on my apartment was due last week so I headed off to the cashpoint and drew out the $300us to cover the next month then poped into my landlords who run the pharmacy at the bottom of our building. They hadn’t asked me for electricity in two months so I had checked the metre, worked out how much I owed them and took that money in to them as well. It was all smiles and “thank you’s” and I even got presented with a purple dragon fruit for my efforts. I suggested they might want to come up and check the metre but they said there was no need. That’s paying the rent in Cambodia – makes me think about how much human contact we’ve eradicated in our sophisticated electronic world. I’m not saying that in all cases it’s a bad thing – I’m sure there’s landlords you’d rather not meet. Getting back from a run last Friday morning I stood out on my balcony to try and cool down and watch what was happening in my neighbourhood (you have time to watch when you’re not rushing off to work). A truck dropped off some men, some ladders and a whole heap of cables and they proceeded to get to work, you see these are the phone/electricity men. Not a cherry picker in sight, these guys scramble up their ladders that lean precariously against the existing cables. They get leverage for themselves by standing on the existing cables to do what they need to do and if they need help the guy that’s supposed to be holding the ladder scurries up the ladder and lends a hand. One guy had the shoe lace of his imitation Allstars undone and I felt sick as I watched him running up and down the ladder. Finally, he realised himself that it was undone and much to my relief, did it up nice and tight. They ran new cable down my whole street by binding new cable to old with a basic piece of wire that they twisted them together with. I didn’t watch all day but I hoped they all left the job in one piece. When I leave for a run at 6am there is always a guy across my street selling baguettes. Some days, I come home from being out around say, 7 or 8pm and the same guy is always still sitting there selling his baguettes. Can you imagine sitting in the same spot with nothing to occupy your mind other than watching the street traffic ebb and flow, and the occasional distraction of a sale for 13/14 hours a day? I couldn’t. Maybe it’s an example of true contentment and peace right there! I’ve never even seen him reading a book but that’s typical of Cambodians. They don’t seem to read for pleasure, instead reading is for study. They much prefer to watch tv and the louder the better! Anyway, he’s a lovely cheerful fellow but unfortunately I don’t really like his baguettes and more often than not go to his competition about three shop fronts down. The traffic is still driving me crazy so much so that I lost all reason a few weeks ago and took on a 4x4 on my pushbike. I was waiting patiently for the lights to change to green so I could cycle sedately through, when a motorbike, and bus and then a 4x4 tried to turn into my street on a red light. I wasn’t game enough to take on the bus but pushed myself forward between the bus and the 4x4. The driver luckily enough wasn’t in the mood to run me down and when I gestured that I had the green light he gestured back something that said “well if the bus can do it so can I”. The logic is interesting. Anyway I left him sitting in the middle of the intersection while I led the charge of through traffic, onwards to victory and a great sense of satisfaction! Let us hope he wasn’t a mate of anyone important otherwise his cronies even now could be hunting the streets for a mad, blonde Barang on her iridescent white bike ready to let her tyres down, or alternatively pull out her fingernails one by one with a set of pliers whilst dowsing them in alcohol. I few weeks ago I was lucky enough to get leave and met up with my Mum and sister in Bangkok where we spent a few days mostly shopping before flying up to Chiang Mai for another few days. Its 12 years since I’ve been to Chiang Mai and it had a really lovely feel to it. Bit like a village but with the advantages of a decent sized town. We did all the touristy things, like Tiger Kingdom and the Elephant farm – they were both amazing. From there we flew to Saigon, which unfortunately I really didn’t like. Gone are all the smiles and friendliness of Thailand and Cambodia instead you receive blank stares at best and aggression at worst. I’ll caveat this by saying that last time I was in Saigon (three years ago) I didn’t feel the same. Has it changed or have I? Maybe I’ve just been spoilt by living in Cambodia. We travelled across the border back into Cambodia by bus two days later much to my relief and Mum and Jane got to spend a week of seeing what I’ve seen and sharing a little bit of my life in Cambodia. I’m looking forward to the rest of my time here and aim in my 4 remaining months to try and get to see all the beautiful parts of Cambodia that I haven’t gotten to yet. The volunteers from the intake before mine are all due to leave shortly and there should be a few nice weekends away in farewell to them.

Movin and Poopin. Photos of new apartment at bottom.

2009-07-02T13:19:00.005+10:00

I’m writing this sitting in the airconditioned comfort of my bedroom having just finished that most amazing of all luxuries, a blow of cereal. It’s my first cereal in 5.5 months. I have a rash on my face so that my eyes are mere almonds peeking out of the puffiness. Just another chink in the armour of my resolve. I’ve been sick the last week, either a parasite or bacteria but either way everything going in was coming straight out. After three days of no let-up I gave in and went to see a doctor who admitted me straight away and put me on an IV drip for rehydration plus bottles full of antibiotics. Add to that an infection from the IV causing swelling and diminished range of movement in my right arm plus the humiliation of having to poop in a pot when they’ve just injected antibiotics into to you to stop you pooping. My resolve is being chinked all over the place. My friend, which happens to be the new owner of Scoopy, being the truly amazing person that she is, offered to be poop courier for me (when we finally got some action), and the truly hilarious thing, they charged her $21 for the pleasure of dropping it off to them. I’m feeling heaps better today, apart from a face like Godzilla and a still bung arm but I’m working from home to treat myself and adminsiter some tender loving care. I’ll be back to work tomorrow though and back to the lovely people who have been really worried about me. I first got sick at work and the “Mum’s” all gathered around, rubbing tiger balm on my tummy, massaged my back, made me drink tea with lemon and honey and scolded me for not telling them I was sick. They’re such caring people - I’ve had visits at home to drop of care packages, phone calls to check how I am and the offer of a lift in the middle of the night (if I needed it) from Sopheak the IT manager. My friends also have been so caring, generous and supportive for people I’ve only known for a matter of months but time doesn’t come into the bonds that you form. They’ve united to form “team tough love” and demand that I go to the doctor, they’ve delivered my poop and they’ve sat all afternoon watching episode after episode of “Brothers and Sisters” to keep me company. My armour of resolve has had a few chinks knocked out and is looking smoother. I’m so thankful that I am in my new home to be sick and lick my wounds. I think my resolve would have completely vanished if I’d had to endure being ill in the old apartment. I love this new place, its way smaller which translates to more homely. It has aircon and masses and masses of natural light, there’s no yapping blind dog driving me slowly deranged and no psychotic security mad, landlord. A market three doors down for all the essentials and the Independence Monument park at the end of my street on which I’d started running two nights before I got sick. It was a lovely "moving day" where East worked alongside West to transport Jacqui and her way too plentiful trappings two kilometres down the road. Mr Khun brought along Mrs Khun (a very tireless, strong and beautiful person) and his Camry, the heaviest tv in the world went in a Tuk-Tuk and pot plants travelled via motorbike and bicycle basket. A few things went missing, the tv got broke and Em pulled a glut muscle but we all finished up by having a lovely picnic on my new balcony. Mr Khun told us stories from the Pol Pot time, how him and Mrs Khum got together and Adam showed us his bruise from driving his motorbike home drunk last night and having it fall on him – ssshhh don’t tell the Embassy. I went to my first meditation session at a local Buddhist temple (Wat) a few weeks ago. I found it “enlightening”. But seriously I did really enjoy the experience, there’s something inspirational, moving and calming about sitting cross legged on the floor of a high ceiling temple with Buddha statues gazing down at you, ancient stories depicted across the ceiling and walls, a gentle breeze blowing through the open doors and monks in their brilliant saffron robes (civara) meditating alongside you. My thoughts clarified, things I’d been deliberating on, crystallised. Of course that could have been because there was a shortage of blood flowing to my brain due to the fact in was stuck below, caught inside my folded legs that had lost all feeling. Half an hour of crossed legs would appear to be my limit, something for me to work on, along with the emptying of my mind. I haven’t managed to get back again yet but intend to do so. I had a very impromptu visit to Siem Reap just before my move. I felt like getting away so on the Friday morning at work I asked for a half day, took my small pack and got on the midday bus heading north. It was so liberating! The bus was half empty and I had space to myself to spread out and read the Phnom Penh Post, to doze, to look at the countryside. It took six hours but a relaxing six hours to shake off the shackles and see things afresh. A lovely weekend followed, relaxing by the swimming pool at lovely accommodation, watching rugby, drinking, shopping and eating with friends. I got a return bus back at lunchtime on the Sunday full of good spirits, ready to take on the world and looking forward to moving homes. Lounge/living area View from my balcony with market in photo at bottom.

Kampong Cham and deep fried crickets

2009-06-04T12:10:00.003+10:00

Ever wanted to hit fast forward on life’s remote control? Just skip right through those dull, scary or seedy bits and plop yourself right smack bang in the middle of a really good bit? I had one of those times last week; it was bound to happen of course. To write a Blog totally of sugar and spice would be neither accurate nor honest so in the interest of being an “honest Indian” here follows a bit of not “all things nice” . My “week” involved attending our first training program in another town. Let me preposition this by saying, if I could speak Khmer it would not have been nearly as bad a week. And whose fault is that? I know, I know; but you’d really only have to speak to my college French teacher for her to confirm that languages really aren’t my thing. Being a little hung-over on Sunday as I packed and got myself to the MEDiCAM office wasn’t a good way to start, it’s true. There were 4 of us on this trip, myself (the only non-Khmer speaker), two trainers and the driver. They enjoyed chatting the whole 2.5hr trip and if I’d really wanted to feel included I could have thrown some English into the mix but I was happy enough to nod off or just watch the interesting countryside flow past me. There’s not a hint of a hill in the landscape its flat fields for as far as the eye can see with the odd sporadic palm tree dotted about. Men with bullock teams plough the fields and the odd roadside stall breaks up the scene. We arrived at sunset in Kampong Cham and to the hotel that was to become my prison cell for the next 5 days. I managed to get everyone organised enough to set the training room up in close to western rather than Khmer time which meant we could still eat and get to bed before mid-night. My room was awful and the main reason behind my prison cell analogy. The sheets and towels were clean and there was cable on the tv (after two weeks of my own tv not working this was a saving grace for my sanity) but there endith any semblance to a haven from home. It had a very strong unidentifiable smell, was small and just four walls with the door the only opening. No windows and no natural light – maybe this was the real problem? Maybe I’m one of those creatures that’s natural habitat must include that amazing phenomenon called daylight. Otherwise my energy dwindles, I become scratchy, limp of limb and eventually just wither up into a decomposing pile of moist rags! If only they’d known all she needed was light! Oh gawd, I know I’m whinging but it was just too awful! On unlocking the door, I’d quickly flick the power switch on so that tv, fan and lights came on all at once in the vain hope that this would somehow bring life to the bat cave. I was down to the training room before 8am on the first morning to set up my laptop and projector and escape “the room” unfortunately there ended my tasks for the day. The rest of the time I sat myself at the very back of the room and did some reading and pulling together of notes as I’d had enough forethought to throw in some other work at the last minute just in case I had some spare time – what was I thinking??? All I had was spare time. The room was in the basement of the hotel and again home to a strong peculiar smell. The floors were concrete, the walls concrete and was of a long oblong shape. Not the most conducive room to training and I have to admit to nodding off at least twice in the morning alone – once again good forethought to position myself out of view. The training was all in Khmer so I pretty much understood one in every thousand word. What was my role here again?? Pretty stupid of me to have not really thought this one through but the Trainer had insisted that I needed to come, why? To observe? Ok, well I could see that he presented well, was animated, and had his participants engaged – these signals I picked up by witnessing the laugher from the students, their body language and the fact that they were asking questions. Hey, maybe I could sell my services as a qualified non verbal analyst?? -- “what was the crowd thinking Jacqui? “That’s easy! I can tell very clearly from my analysis including the all important non-verbal signals of nose picking and scratching of nether regions that they were overawed by your performance” -- could be a seller! But I digress . . . . I tried to offer feedback, suggest we might want to proceed as we’d originally planned but my offers of advice (me being the Organisation Development Advisor and all) were shrugged off. And so ended day 1 of a long 5 days of pretty much more of the same. The day was in Khmer, the lunch conversation was all Khmer and even when my workmates and myself went out for dinner the conversation was all in Khmer. Where was the only place I could find refuge – in “the room” - oh, god no wonder it was a horrendous week. As I said at the start of this tirade, it would have been less horrendous if I could have understood the language and yes I could have tried more consciously to interject myself into the conversation but for whatever reason – I was just to weary to even try. Maybe it’s because I’m at a culture shock milestone? It’s been fun and unique up until now, not understanding but enjoying just listening to the sound of the words and watching the people converse without needing to understand. It’s become less novel and a bit more tiring. Still, if this is the worst I have to go through, then “I will survive”. There’s three more training courses to get through before I finish this gig and I’m sure if I can just find the energy that I can turn them into positive experiences. Because if nothing else at least I can take away some lessons learnt from this week and do things a bit differently next time. There were some good bits to the week – thank god, I can hear you sign. I got to catch up with Terri a fellow Vida volunteer at a lovely café sitting on the river. We drank red wine, ate a big fat chicken breast with chips and best of all – had a much needed conversation in English. We made to head to Terri’s apartment after our meal but there were no motodops or Tuk-Tuks in sight so I started walking while Terri rode her bike beside me. It started to drizzle again so Terri suggested I run while she rode – nice idea Terri :o) it must have looked hilarious, a silly blonde haired barang wearing a white top (no one wears white here) and thongs jogging through puddles beside another barang riding a bike in the rain. Towards the end of the week I managed to convince the driver to take me out for an our to do a bit of site seeing. I got him to take me to the two Phnoms (hills) that sit next to each other, Phnom Srey and Phnom Prose. Both have temples built on them and Phnom Prose in particular is very impressive. There are two massive gold Buddha statues one upright and the other laying. Phnom Srey is hundreds of steps up and unlike Laos I had to have a wee rest half way up. Similar to Laos though I passed some elders coming up as I was going down. Once again they were delighted when I paid respect to them in Khmer one grabbing my hand and telling me “bonjour” (luckily I actually did manage to learn a few words in those long ago French classes). Another said something to me in Khmer which the driver later explained to me was a wish for me to have a long life. On Friday the training was finished at lunchtime and we managed to finally get away ourselves around 2pm. We stopped at the Angkor temple just outside Kampong Cham city, for a quick look around and I was truly amazed and impressed. Having been to Angkor Wat in Siem Reap I had something to compare it with and although no where near as large, this single Wat is equally as impressive. Apparently older than Angkor Wat, the stonework is slightly different but has the same intricate designs. It truly is a thing of wonder as you contemplate the simply amazing feat of engineering to produce something of its size and magnitude. Something the Cambodian people can feel justifiable pride in. And, better still I was the only tourist there which certainly lent to its charm. Next stop on our homeward journey is a roadside food market for fruit buying (myself and my workmates) and deep fried cricket buying (my workmates only) I did however take the attitude that you only live once and decided to bite the bullet or should I say the cricket. You can’t say “ew yuck” until you’ve tried it and you know if you close your eyes it’s really quite tasty. I’m not completely insane though and drew the line at trying the deep fried spiders. I’ve become a fruit fanatic, and it feels so decadent to be able to buy succulent mangoes, large fresh pineapples (which they happily prepare for you), Durian and Jackfruit all off the side of the road and at such sinfully cheap prices. We make it back to Phnom Penh around 5pm and I am thankfully dropped at my front door. Oh what bliss the sanctity and sanity of my sweet smelling, light filled home. I then finish the week by treated myself all weekend to facials, body scrubs, shopping and eating out.

Loitering about Laos

2009-05-20T22:25:00.007+10:00

Better get the cuppa made and get settled into your comfiest chair, this ones a long one . . . . hope you enjoy. Myself and a friend are off to Laos, “will someone get the name right please”? The Imperial French, who made the country part of French Indochina in 1893, spelled the name with a final silent “s” Why? Well just because they're French really. It's stuck anyway although people have a tendency to pronounce the silent “s”. Long before the French, a poor old, hard of hearing Chinese trader, misheard the name “Dao” when it was told to him and instead heard “Lao” which he then circulated (dare I say via Chinese whispers) :o) Anyhow, it’s another month of public holidays in Cambodia for; the Kings birthday, for the Royal Ploughing Ceremony Day and for Visaka Bochea Day. With one days annual leave I get 10 days off in a row and is too good an opportunity not to go somewhere I haven’t been before. Just as I’m locking my gate on Friday 8th I see a minibus outside the Townview Hotel, probably mine I think, but before I can walk the 20 paces it has already departed. I play the waiting game for 10mins on the off chance it wasn’t my bus but on nothing else appearing I jump on the back of a moto and head to the Central Bus Station where Mara’s mind is only just starting to go through the “what the hell am I going to do if she doesn’t turn up" scenario. Our bus is in need of some tender loving care, but it doesn’t break down and the aircon works and at $6 for a 5.5hr journey our expectations are more than met. We make a couple of stops enroute and I end up with rice and pork for breakfast – a little odd for my stomach but normal for the Khmers. We pick up beautiful mangoes at the roadside stalls which they peel and cut up for us ready for takeaway. There are also the usual fried crickets and tarantulas for sale, what a shame I’d already eaten! We arrive in Kratie (pronounced Kra-Cha) at 3.30pm and it’s sweltering hot, hotter than Phnom Penh if that’s at all possible. The room touts are there to greet the bus but are neither aggressive nor even pushy – maybe its too hot for hard sell. Two are more persistent than the others however and to play fair I put their business cards behind my back and get Mara to choose. We end up at a 50 room hotel whose facilities are more than adequate and cost us a measly $2.50 each for the night. Our room tout also organises us motos and drivers (himself and his brother) and we head out for dolphin and monastery viewing. Kratie is so beautiful with a whole stretch of road shrouded in vegetation running along beside the river. My moto slows down at a police stop and I think he may be in for a fine due to his helmetless head. He yells hallo to one of the mob standing at the checkpoint and on we press, on that is until our moto breaks down. I jump onto Mara’s moto with her and her not very petite Khmer driver.

We arrive at the monastery, on the summit of the only visible hill – it’s 160 steps, then 127 steps and then 73 steps straight up! Wow, that’s got the heart pumping. We hear the monks practising instruments – tranquil this is not, but with beautiful views. We get to speak Khmer to some elders who have just climbed the first 160 steps – gosh these old people are fit! The women’s heads are grey and completely shaven and they grin at us with toothless smiles. One of the ladies grabs my arm and says something in Khmer which makes the others all start laughing. Hhhmmm, I wonder why I'm so amusing. Next is a short moto ride to where we jump in our long-tail boat and head out into the middle of the Mekong. Our driver kills the engine and it is so beautiful with only the water slapping against the hull to break the quiet. We’ve timed it perfectly, the suns slowly sinking behind Trong Island while around us the dolphins are surfacing for air, clearing their blowholes as we swivel left and right, catching quick glimpses before they dive again. We are surprised at the number we get to see, the guide books having us believe we may not be lucky enough to see any. Just as the sun is setting they begin to play with each other slapping dorsel fins on top of the water – it really is a majestic experience and we head back to dry land feeling privileged and peaceful at having spent a bit of time with these lovely creatures in their home on the Mekong. Back to two motos again we head back into town. My poor driver with neither helmet nor sunglasses gets pummelled with insects and I have a moment’s anxiety as he wildly swots them away from his eyes. Straight to dinner at the Red Falling Sun and back to the hotel for showers and an early night – exhausted after our days travel and with no idea of what’s to come tomorrow we fall asleep to the sound of monks in the Wat just down the road from us. This 9th day of May has to be one of the craziest days of travel I have ever had! We are picked up at the café where we are have a great breakfast and a lengthy dialogue with the American owner. It’s really more of a lecture than a dialogue as he does not draw breath and certainly never lets another person have the remotest chance of adding to the conversation. That said he’s a wealth of information and recommends somewhere to stay at our next destination. The minivan in which we’re picked up has bent seats and a window missing and they drive us around the block, picking up a mother and baby enroute before depositing us at the bus station a journey from café to destination that could have taken us 5 mins to walk and which in the minivan took 30 mins. I sign of things to come. We get transferred into another minivan and are greeted by the “hallos” from three sweet but dirty young girls who are sitting on the back seat with Mum, another babe in arms. There are only three other people in the van and as we take off and I mistakenly think “this is great”. We stop 15 mins out of town and another 11 people pile in. That's now a total of 21 in a 14 seater. We sit for the whole journey squashed close with no leg room, with our packs on our laps, no aircon and Khmer DVD’s filling the air with excruciating noise. While in motion the wind whips our faces and the temperature is bearable but this van is to make many stops; wee stops (which involves the ladies peeing on the side of the road, their pee skirts or sarongs wrapped around them for modesty), people pick-up stops, people drop-off stops, stops for picking up containers of petrol and then a turn around about 15 mins down the road and return to the petrol pick-up stop as we’d forgotten some containers. We finally arrive at Steng Treng 3 hours later and are told we must wait 2 hours for our next minibus. We have a look at the market and a leisurely lunch and arrive back at the allotted time only to have to wait another hour until we get to leave (when asked why? I am told it’s because they are sorting their beer money??) It’s less than an hour to the Laos/Cambodian border and the customs officers are surprisingly friendly – I’m always surprised when customs officers are friendly. One of them, on seeing my New Zealand passport told me his brother lives in NZ, we chat and manage to avoid paying the “administration” fee. No relatives in NZ or Australia in the Laos side though and we hand over the small fee. Some young Americans come through after us and have to pay at both sides and twice as much as us at the Laos control. They seemed perplexed as to why – are they serious? Could it not perhaps have something to with their country having bombed and caused both major loss of life and destruction to both these countries??? We spend 2 hours sitting at the border, the explanation we’re given is that we’re waiting for more people. By now, and mostly due to the intense heat, patience’s are wearing a little thin especially when we realise the people we’re waiting on have come all the way from Phnom Penh in the time it’s taken us to come from Kratie! Worse off than us though are the poor Laos family also waiting in our minivan with us that were only out to visit the nearby waterfall. Finally, the stragglers arrive and we get to take the family to the waterfall where they spend a very short 15 mins after the lengthy wait. We drop them home and then head to the Pier where our boat to Four Thousand Islands awaits us. We get to experience another sunset on the Mekong on our 15min boat trip to Don Dhet (the main back packer island) then we head on foot (we’re told it’s only 2 km) to another less backpacker packed island, a brave move as darkness soon descends and we trudge through forests of trees as well as along beside paddy fields with the only light from the moon. We hear a bizarre loud noise that wouldn’t be out of place in a Star Trek movie – it’s stereophonic as it shifts from one side of the road and back again. Bats? no idea but nice and eerie all the same. Locals appear out of the darkness and answer yes when we ask if we are heading in the right direction but they add that it’s about 4km or half an hour away – oops. We justify by telling ourselves we need the exercise after a day spent on our asses in various forms of transport. We finally reach Don Khon having crossed the “French” bridge and find accommodation, all fairly much in the dark as this island has no electricity. Generators supplying power to the bungalows and restaurants from sunset until 11pm, only. We dine at the restaurant belonging to our bungalows and are told on ordering that there is no fish – what someone forgot to throw the line in??? They’re sitting on a river for goodness sake! I order something like chicken curry which fails to turn up and on chasing it up 30 mins later am told “its coming” and finally end up with something which turns out to be a very delicious chicken fried rice. Welcome to laid back Laos! Morning in Don Khon, we awake to the sounds of the river, the splash of the fisherman’s nets being cast on the water, the dull thud of hammering in the distance, a long-tail boats engine putt, putting as it passes by, and the harmonised voices of the Lao girls singing while they clean the room next door. It’s rained most of the previous night, such a beautiful sound as it pummels our roof and we lay in bed watching the room fill with light but only momentarily as the lightening flashes. When the rain lets up we can hear the gentle plop, plop as the rain dripps off the roof and onto the massive “Elephants Ear” leaves of the plants surrounding our front door. Having dinner some distance from our bungalows the previous evening we were surprised at how instantly the air cooled as the wind picked up, announcing the rains imminent arrival. It continued it’s tropical downpour throughout dinner which was a fairly lengthy affair (as nothing is done with anything other than the cadence of a snail) but was lovely as we over indulged. The rain subsided eventually and we headed bungalow-bound on our very wet bikes. Now remember there is no electricity on this island, therefore we rode in the pitch black on a dirt road now turned to mush by the rain. I try to keep to what I imagine is the middle of the path with visions of veering off into the river filling my mind. We bounce over big rocks as well as gravel and the bike practically freezes in place numerous times, as I sink into big mud puddles. Mara shrieks out “cow” at one stage, as a water buffalo with nice big horns looms out of the darkness and I dissolve into hysterics while putting my foot down (to gain some control of myself and the bike) and sink three inches into something wet and squelchy. I giggle like a girl as a beacon of light from our bungalow beckons us onwards all the time hoping that it is mud and not buffalo poo that covers my only shoes! The third day of our trip begins with rising late into a steaming hot day and hiring push bikes for a tour round the island. There is only one 4 metre stretch of concrete on the whole island, the rest dirt, and the bikes were definitely not designed with this terrain in mind. One of my hips begins to ache as we cycle along and I realise it’s because one of the springs under my bike seat is missing – glad I’m not riding the Pyrenees on this little beauty. The scenery more than compensates for any discomfort as we venture between rice fields and small forests of trees, it is so serene, the only sounds made by birds, cicadas or the occasional call from a buffalo and the squeak, squeak from my CRC deprived bike. Our path takes us towards a waterfall, as we cross small rickety pedestrian sized bridges and pass beneath a natural canopy of cane branches forming an arch overhead. When we arrive, there are groups of Thai tourists who are very eager to chat and I’m not sure if that’s all down to the whiskey they’re putting in with their coca cola at this early hour. We follow the sign posts to a beach which is not ideal for swimming but is used by Cambodians as a landing point on the island to come shopping. One elderly gentleman was just getting back onto his long-tail boat with bags of supplies and a guitar amp – maybe they’re cheap in Laos?? Further on we see a herd of water buffalo grazing in a paddock with a calf bleating it’s wee heart out. Mum’s answering bellow sounds as she emerges out of trees a couple of fields away, glistening with mud she must have been cooling herself down in the river. She races across the fields and across our path bellowing reassurance to her calf who is bleating all the while. It’s nice to see Mum and calf reunited and all at peace again. We give into the heat wishing we had a big mud puddle to wallow in, and head back to the Bungalow. It turns out not to be that much cooler, with no electricity nor breeze to speak of – we lay like panting Labradors until the heat of the day eases. Our bikes have gone as we make to head back across the bridge to Don Dhet but replacements soon materialise and as fortune would have it, are huge improvements on the last – two springs per seat and no squeaking. We get to see the pitch black path of last night in daylight and are glad we’ve made the trip, again. It’s lovely, quaint and serene and only improved upon as the rain comes in gently and makes it all smell so fresh. Kids are larking about naked in the river, a plump little piglet wanders about close to it’s mum, a man saws a log by hand while others look on and chickens and dogs run across our path – it’s a tranquil country scene and could quite easily be anywhere in the world if you traipse back far enough in their history. The next morning we spend watching life on the river unfold as we wait for our long-tail to come and take us back to the mainland and on to Pakse. Women come down to the river to bath in their sarongs, men throw fishing lines and nets while boats pull in to deliver the supplies for the day to restaurants. There’s much noise on the island today, due to what appears to be the annual tree pruning before the wet. Unless of course they’re finally going to put power on the island and are clearing for the lines – the powers being promised for the last 5 years, could now really be the time? Men are scurrying up coconut palms like monkeys with razor sharp machetes in their hands. They slice and strike at fronds which fall with only one hit while there’s much issuing of instructions from below. Smaller trees have a rope tied around them and men heave together until they break and come crashing down. Some large palms are cut off completely about a metre from their bases. Is there any strategy to this hive of activity – it doesn’t appear so to me, but then who am I to say? It’s certainly the most action I’ve seen from any of the Laotians so far. The Mekong doesn’t fail to delight on our 15 min boat ride – a herd of buffalo up to their necks in the water, young boys fishing off a boat, one holding it steady while the other casts a net and with snorkel on dives straight into the river after it. There’s a Wat on the right bank with Monks robes laid out on a shrub in the sun to dry and a teenager washes his clothes in a big plastic bowl bobbing on its surface. We jump into a Westerners minivan which means one person per seat and an area for everyone’s luggage – oh what luxuries we take for granted. It’s a three hour ride through the now familiar site of green vegetation as far as you can see. An icecream straight off the bus to regroup and find bearings and then we dump our bags at the Lonely Planet recommended Saibidy 2 guesthouse, it’s cheap at $4 each and is extremely clean and tidy. Next morning in the drizzle I get my first lesson on riding a motorbike with gears, and having passed the test, head off complete with backpacks and Mara, into the wild “green” yonder. We stop for fuel and I mistakenly enter someone’s home to pay – interesting that they’ve set up home in the garage forecourt. Next stop is to buy a bungy cord to hold the pack between my legs in place and we leave town proper just as the rain starts proper. It doesn’t let up as I’d hoped during our very slow 37km trip and we arrive at our destination, Phasoume Resort, soaked through. The Lonely Planet describes this place as the “Disney Land” of Laos and although there is definitely an air of make believe about it, it has been put together really well. 8 years ago a Thai guy employed 24 men and an elephant to clear this site for an ethnic village park. They built all the buildings (restaurant, tree houses, and bungalows) pathways and seating etc out of the wood from fallen trees. Then they replanted hundreds of trees and shrubs and in 8 years nature has filled in the rest so that they now have a very jungle if somewhat contrived feel. The Thai guy is still there and the sad part of this story is that he contracted malaria just before the park opened and went blind as a result of being in a malaria induced coma. He never got to see the park opened but loves the place and wants to retire here. He and his wife employ 80 staff and house 50 of them onsite and they all seem to love being there with, and working for them. Local tribes people “exist” in the ethnic village for the tourists demonstrating weaving, playing of instruments or just going about village life and seem to be happy to do so. Our accommodation here is a little more expensive at $15 each a night but feel it’s worth it for the surrounds and our experience here. Our bungalow backs onto the river and is closest to the waterfall with our deck having a prime view. The bathroom facilities have no roof just a huge deck umbrella covering the loo. How gorgeous! Showering under the stars while you stand on a floor of pebbles and treated tree stumps. No floors requiring moping here. The rain has let up as we hit the road again for Tadlo, about 60 kms away through some of the lushest vegetation you can imagine. It seems to creep silently right up to the roads edge and you can imagine it very easily covering up the road if your back was turned for too long. Our moto has no power which makes for a long trip but a safe one as all manor of animals have right-of-way on this main highway. I repeatedly slow for piglets and chooks or herds of goats who just meander sedately across the road, and I even have to stop completely as a herd of cows lay across both lanes, it’s wonderful and we’re so glad we’re on a bike – you miss so much in a car or bus. We have a meal at Tadlo and check out the waterfall and then it’s pretty much time to head back as I don’t want to be riding in the dark. It’s bathing time as we head back and we see girls washing in their sarongs and boys in their shorts down at the river. Next day we head up onto the Bolven Plateau and towards Paksong. It must be a pretty big ascent as our moto almost comes to a stand still on occasion. Tadfane is one of the much publicised waterfalls but we are recommended to stop at another waterfall 3 kms before it and we are so glad we do. With steps that descend right to the bottom of the waterfall then raised wooden walkways at it’s base it’s stunning viewing and an amazing experience to be so close to something so powerful. I could have stayed there for hours in this green cool place. Instead we have to make the arduous climb back up the extremely steep steps, not for the faint hearted this one. Next is Paksong market where I become a blithering mess over the most gorgeous puppy dressed in powder blue shortie pyjamas with a wee hole cut in the shorts for his tail. Gosh, just the thought of him makes me go all mushy. It takes us about half the time to get back to Phasoume Resort as it’s downhill all the way. That night, as the only overnight visitors we’re invited by the Thai guy to join them in a Catholic Mass. They have already held a Buddhist ceremony in the morning and both are an annual event. It truly is one of the best experiences of the trip as we get to share and be part of this special community. All of the staff whether Buddhist, Catholic, Protestant, or “Ghost” come and sit on the floor around us and the Thai guy, while we wait for the priest from Pakse to arrive. It’s about 26 years since I was at my last Mass (dragged along by my great school friend Colleen who got me along under the pretext it would be a great place to meet boys – and she was right) The trappings and actions are pretty much the same from what I remember but this one is conducted wholly in Laos so I have to watch my neighbours out of the corner of my eye for when to bow my head etc. Everyone is here, the ladies we bought weaving off this morning, the man who played the instruments, the girl who made our fruit shakes and the grandchildren from my photo. They all sing together and some join in the offerings part of the ceremony and others the receiving of the body of Christ (forgive me Catholics if I’m getting this wrong). It’s lovely that when I look about me I’m greeted with smiles that say we’re happy you’re here with us being part of our community. After Mass everyone eats together and we’re served just as though we’re part of the crew. Its lovely that there’s this simply assuredness, by them ,that we would be eating with them tonight. No debate or asking the boss for permission it just happened so naturally. That night we are accompanied by one of the workers the 10mins to our bungalow and he points out the guards who have been sent to sleep in the small bungalow next to us, they weren’t there last night and it feels like they’re come just to make us sleep better. If I’ve ever needed a reason why I should travel; to have a simple but glorious experience like this is more than reason enough. Back to Pakse the next morning to drop off the motor and book our bus back to Phnom Penh for the next day. We round up a Tuk-Tuk and head to Kiet Ngong so I can fulfil my wish and have another ride on an elephant. (The last being in Chang Mai, Thailand over 10 years ago). It’s not quite as I imagine, no trek through dense vegetation up the mountain. But it’s still a nice 40 min ride and a pleasure to experience one of these amazing creatures at close range, even though there were slight flatulence and snot issues. The stay in Pakse and Laos for that matter, finishes with a glorious foot massage and a very mediocre noodle stirfry. We leave at 8am and arrive back in Phnom Penh two hours early at 8 pm! A much better trip than the one up – thank goodness, and we get dropped at our front doors. It really was lovely to cross the border back into smiley Cambodia land and a relief to actually be able to converse with the locals again, even in my still very limited Khmer.

Laos trip for blog

Storms, torturers and missing parcels

2009-05-07T23:55:00.002+10:00

Dad, this blogs for you . . . :o) Government Departments and missing parcels The Phnom Penh post office is a government department with all the simply horrific processes, systems and customer service that you’d expect from a government department from 30 years ago. Well Cambodia is 30 years behind the rest of the world and not I hasten to add solely due to things under its own control. Civil wars, attacks from other countries plus genocide have done nothing to hasten progress in this poor country. I have two parcels that have gone AWOL, so make a trip to the P.P Chief (and only) Post Office, it’s a marvelous old building and that’s about where the marvelous ness ends. Although, I’m starting to learn how things work on this, my second visit. Express post parcels go to a company in one part of the post office, parcels from New Zealand go to another part of the post office, parcels from Australia go to the same part of the post office as the express parcels and the parcels without tracking numbers go to yet another part of the post office. If you receive a parcel and have a post box then you should have a notice put in your post box to let you know your parcels has arrived – in my case this has yet to happen. Every parcel received by the post office is entered by hand in a book which the person belonging to the AWOL parcel then has to search throw row by row. It makes for quite interesting reading – someone simply called “Elder” gets quite a lot of mail. I make the mistake of getting to the post office at 1pm and although the companies with parcels for New Zealand and for express parcels are at work they don’t have my parcel and they send me to the another part of the post office that holds parcels without tracking numbers and I find this company representative asleep on the counter. I daren’t wake them until 1.30 (normal back from lunch time) but then notice the sign that says they don’t start back until 2pm! I return to work and come back later to find a very friendly and helpful (maybe she has just started in this role) lady serving. She gives me two books of parcel lists to look through and she laughs when I let out a shriek of excitement when I finally actually see my name in print. I get charged 2000 riel for the pleasure of dealing with this government department and it’s probably worth every one of the 50 measly cents. I leave the post office to see a monkey walking along the footpath – ho hum, I’m in Phnom Penh – don’t you love it? ----------------------------------------------------------- Khmer Rouge Tribunals Kand Kang Kech Eav or “Duch” as he is infamously known is one of 4 current detainees who together are responsible for approximately 2.2 million deaths across Cambodia over a 4 year period in the 1970’s. Or a least that is what the Khmer Genocide Tribunal is trying to prove. Duch is the first detainee to be tried and leaves his detention centre everyday to face five - international judges (one from NZ and the only female) and multiple lawyers in an International Court of Law situated about 14km outside of Phnom Penh. The court room and the detention centre were purpose built with buses ferrying the public daily from outside the central bus station. The public are encouraged to attend, and actually received an email myself from the Australian embassy suggesting I attend and that we encourage others to do the same. This felt a little weird to me, it almost felt like drumming up business for a “show”. On arriving catering facilities and brochures handed out in both Khmer and English added to my feeling. The deadly seriousness of it becomes all too apparent as we got searched multiple times for arsenal and on entering the courtroom see it is protected by a Perspex screen. Anything that could be used as a weapon or projectile is taken off us, including Emily’s Havianas which are obviously considered quite dangerous. The observation room is huge and sits about 200 people at a guess. It’s nowhere near full on this 8th day of the trial where as you’d imagine the majority of the spectators are Khmer with a smattering of westerners including a small group of backpackers who looked like they’ve had to scrimmage around at the bottom of their backpacks for those rare items of “dress-up” clothes they’ve brought with them. We hear a buzz and everyone stands at the judges resplendent in their cerise gowns enter the courtroom. Duch is moved to the dock by his guards, he’s wearing a white (the colour of virginity and innocence) polo shirt and highest trousers I think I’ve ever seen! The proceedings being with the Core Prosecutor clarifying a few points from previous day’s hearings. It’s all very polite and civilized with no angry cross examinations like the television courtrooms I’m used to. Next the Civil Party lawyers got to do some questioning on torture techniques. Duch acknowledged that he wasn’t in favor of the plastic bag technique as the prisoner quite could quit easily be suffocated before they obtained a confession. Whips and electrocution using a phone line were the favored forms of torture to start with although water-boarding (maybe the Amercian’s learnt this unsavory skill off the Khmer Rouge for Juantanomo Bay) came later. He also explained that the shackles were not used for torture but rather for detention. I’m sitting there listening to this verbatim and not quite believing it. It’s quite hard to fully comprehend that this really is not a television show and that these acts were actually performed on real human beings – by the thousand! We leave the trial at lunch recess and I read in the papers the next day that Duch for the first time became intolerant and rude to the lawyers that afternoon so much so that the Chief Judge had to give him a dressing down on showing respect. How controlled is this man being of himself? Is he an emotional time bomb waiting to go off – I think it’s what everyone expects. But then maybe only an unemotional person could have performed such acts of cruelty on other human beings. ------------------------------------------------------- Storms and lengthy meetings They’re saying the rainy season has come early this year, the rains aren’t due for another month but then what weather in the world is as it’s supposed to be? In some ways it’s a blessing as it brings with it some relief from the heat but on the other hand the mozzies have come back with a vengeance. Our Executive Director decided to call a staff meeting at 4.10pm a couple of Friday’s ago – if he did that in Australia he’d be the only one in the meeting, no actually on second thoughts he’s probably already be over at the pub himself. The meeting was to be a quick round-the-table to reflect on what everyone had accomplished in the week (great initiative and forward thinking). Cambodians unfortunately are not known for saying something quickly and concisely when they have the chance to draw it out endlessly. So as the torrential rains are pouring outside and we’re all keen to get to the safety of our homes the meeting goes on and on for two hours. I have to duck out and ring to cancel plans for meeting a friend hardly being able to be heard over the thunder and the roar of the rain. Finally at almost 6.30 with the meeting finally at an end and with a break in the rain I get to undertake the adventure of getting home in the aftermath. I’m one of the lucky ones as my moto actually starts – I pass a lot of people pushing theirs. The main road from work is a busy two laned road which to my horror is now mostly underwater. I guess this the time to see if Scooby can float – oh why doesn’t she have big wheels??? The traffic is pretty much gridlocked even motos struggling to gain any forward momentum. I drive on the centre white line as this is just about the only part of the road not under water. It’s fairly nerve-wracking me on my bike, low to the ground, half submerged tyres, in the dark and jostling for position with massive Lexus 4x4’s and Prados. I grit my teeth, hold by ground and take the small gaps of opportunity when I see them. It starts to rain again half way through the journey but it’s only light and my lovely wee Scooby sees me safely to my destination, too late for the movie but hey it’s time for dinner anyway. I practically skull a mug of beer to calm my nerves and try not to dwell on the what-ifs of that particular hair raising journey from work. Just another adventure in a fascinating life in Phnom Penh! -------------------------------------------------- Anzac Day I and a few hundred others attend an Anzac Day, Dawn Service at the Australian Ambassadors Residence. We cycled there at 4.30am through streets empty and still – it’s amazing to feel Phnom Penh so calm. They presented us, on entry, with candles threaded through a leaf and we stood in the beautiful grounds listening to the last post and the very bad singing – why do they insist on singing songs pitched so high only Dame Kiri TeKaniwa can reach the notes?? There’s the moments silence and the laying of the wreaths and I think about the fact that it’s 12 years since I was at Gallipoli attending the same ceremony. We all head off for a beautifully laid- on buffet breakfast at the nearest hotel, us volunteers not quite believing our luck. There’s Two-Up of course, and then we head to the Winking Frog pub for a 8am glass of orange and just a wee nip of vodka – it is Anzac Day after all – Lest we Forget. ---------------------------------------------------------- Jacqui on her soap box Horrific numbers: 156 people were killed in January alone in traffic accidents! The result of 950 traffic accidents. Although the Chief of the traffic division wants to blame the fact that there is often 4 to 5 people on one bike and although this may expedite the numbers, I believe it’s more a symptom of the large numbers not a major cause. They have now made it against the law to have more than two people on a bike – this, if it’s enforced, will have a major impact on family outings. But lets look at the other causes of traffic accidents, how about the constant running of red lights; driving on the wrong side of the road; driving too fast, driving while talking on a mobile phone; turning left out of the extreme right hand lane in front of a mob of traffic; being too short to be able to see over the steering wheel of your 4x4 or use your mirrors; riding your motos side-by-side while you have a chat – urrrghhgh the list goes on. I know I’ve mentioned the traffic before but it’s unfortunately the thorn in my side for at least 20 mins twice a day – if I wasn’t blonde I’m sure you could see my hair turning grey! What’s the answer? I have no idea but this is serious and has nowhere near the amount of funding or attention as some of the other “topical killers”, like HIV/Aids. Not wanting to take anything away from this serious disease, it’s killing in big numbers too but those numbers are decreasing, the road toll is increasing! Right I’ll get off my box now.

Thailand, water festival and island paradise - photos to come.

2009-04-29T22:59:00.009+10:00

Thailand, what bliss to be heading there again, it always feels like my second home (well third at the moment, after Cambodia and Australia) Our trip starts with Cambodia giving us a hefty kick up the backside as we leave, in the form of $25us departure tax, which we never saw coming, and I accidentally eat my first piece of chocolate in three months but other than that the start of our trip is a smooth process until our taxi from Suvarnabhumi airport stops along the motorway to Bangkok city. The driver gets out and after a while I follow him - we have a flat but it’s ok cause the driver has already rung his mate. We stand on the side of the motorway and wait while streams of bright pink and yellow/green taxis all with tires ready to burst they are so full of air, zoom past us. The motorway police turn up and hospitably pose for a photo and provide Cara with a light for her cigarette. We don’t wait too long before our driver’s friend turns up and us, our luggage and spare tires are swapped between vehicles. Arr, so that’s why he didn’t change the flat. Our driver was a really cheery fellow and assured us “we no have accident” demonstrating by pointing to the Buddhism markings on the ceiling of his cab and the photos of the King and Queen and his mother on his dashboard – apparently we were in safe hands! That made me feel much better, especially as the faint bouquet of alcohol wafts over to the back seat and I’m pretty sure his eyes are closed as he veers precariously across lanes. We decide the best bet is to keep him talking and tried the New Year festivities as a topic. This roused him from his stupor alright but created other dangers for us as he became very animated and proceeded to take his hands off the steering wheel repeatedly in order to clap in demonstration of his excitement! It's reassuring to know there are many similarities between Cambodia and Thailand and the very first we discover is that taxi drivers in Thailand also say they know where your destination is when in reality they have no idea. The nice twin room in our hotel had turned into a grotty room with a double bed during the flight but we decided to make do that night but pay the extra for the upgrade for the following couple of nights. We found a great little restaurant called The Gallery, close to our hotel on Sukhamvit Road that first night. It was all old wood and looked like an old two storey Chinese shanty, lots of character. The menu was huge and the food great although the prices and the chilli I got caught in my throat were enough to make my eyes water. The people watching was also great, I’d forgotten how wild, crazy and funky people in Bangkok can be. We shopped for most of the next day – doing MBK some justice then on to an Electronics mega to buy Cara a laptop. We heard the protestors before we saw them as we crossed the walk bridge between the Paragon Centre and MBK. The trucks crowded with red shirts passed below us, loud speakers blaring and flags waving. We decided to take the tried and tested backpacker route that night and headed to KoSan Road by Tuk Tuk. The Tuk Tuk’s in Bangkok are on speed compared to their Khmer cousins, traveling at, at least double the speed and with twice as much noise. On reaching our destination I soon realized my fashion faux pas as my top became see-through and my jeans soaked as we were not only squirted with water from plastic guns but bowls of water were emptied on our heads! Then there was the Tiger balm talcum powder which relieved aches and pains as it decorated you in traditional New Year fashion. We sat and watched the shenanigans as we ate a meal and tried to dry out although there was really no escaping these festivities as water shots were fired and found their mark as random guns passed by. We found somewhere dry with music and a dance floor later on and danced in soggy jeans and see-through tops in airconditioned air! Brrrrrr. Two sisters good natured and full of fun joined us on the dance floor. Unfortunately the night ended on a bit of a sour note as a fist from an angry partner connected with my face instead of its intended target – one of the sisters. It wasn’t really what you'd call a king hit and I was stunned more than anything. The sisters were horrified and apologetic and there were tears when I told them not to ever let a man treat them like that. They tried to get us to carry on with them for another drink to apologize but I thought that was probably enough excitement for one night and our first in Bangkok - you know how the song goes . . . something about humble . . . I got up the next day with a very sore head (hangover) and sore eye socket (punch) – but was pleased to see no bruising. We managed to stay dry the next day long enough to have breakfast and book a bus to Koh Samet for the next day. We made the mistake of going to KoSan Road again and saw that things were just the same as the night before which meant there was no chance to shop – all stalls were packed away for the duration it would seem. To get away quickly and avoid getting saturated again we made our second mistake of the day and got into a Tuk Tuk! I don’t think I’ve ever been quite so wet with clothes on before. Groups of people lined the streets and if they didn’t have hoses to wet you they had bowls and buckets of water. Cara, until then, fairly hung over was quickly brought back to life after the first bucket filled with ice cold water was thrown at us. Our Tuk Tuk driver was considerate enough, to the crowds, to slow down so they got a better shot at us! It really was pretty hilarious as the mayhem continued along the roads and passengers in Tuk Tuks squirted water at other Tuk Tuks as they pulled up at lights or drove past. If only we were armed! There was one slightly sobering moment for us though, just after leaving KoSan Road we saw a road blocked off and at the entrance to it, a bus on fire. We could see smoke billowing from each end and flames devouring the tops of the seats inside, it was completely incongruous with the fun and celebrations two minutes down the road. With two sets of soaking wet clothes I headed to the rooftop pool and dried myself and my clothes out while I listened to the high-jinx’s going on many storeys below me on Sukhamvit Road. Away from the craziness (or so we thought) we headed in our mini-van (that amazingly was right on time), the two and a half hours south to Koh Samet Island. People were having water fights from the back of their 4x4 utes along the highway – don’t these people ever stop? We had to wait two hours for the next ferry so did what we do best and shopped. We were back at the pier in plenty of time to catch our ferry but had received no instructions on what part of the pier to wait at. Turns out we were in the wrong spot which we luckily discovered, after asking about a million people where we were supposed to be. A girl (our savior) knew English enough to race off on her motorbike and make a call to the ferry which had only just left (late) and was happy enough (well maybe not happy as such) to come back for us – thank god! On arriving on the island we too climbed on the back of one of those 4x4 utes with our luggage and proceeded to once again be soaked to the skin. Starting to get a little over it now, especially when luggage and electronic equipment is involved. The driver stopped, bless him, and his wife loaded our smaller bags and Cara’s new laptop into the cab with them. The resort was a welcome sight but unfortunately we were once again taken to a double- bed cottage and what seems to be an oft repeated enterprise – "of course we could have a twin room but unfortunately they’re only available in our more expensive rooms". Let us just say the final outcome of some fairly intense discussions involving the booking agency and the resort manager saw us upgraded to a lovely deluxe cottage with twin beds and a much nicer outlook! Game Title: “Try-it-on with Single Tourists”, Competitors: Cara & Jacqui vs Thai Hotels, Current Score: 1 all – thank you very much!!!! Koh Samet turns out to be a lovely small island, not too commercial or built up and with a pretty good mix of foreigners and Thai’s on holiday. We have a fantastic 5 days here and don’t wont to leave. We start the holiday with cocktails instead of dinner at a resort just a stroll away from ours. The prices are really reasonable but the English owner’s girlfriend-come-chef has gone AWOL. We get an (expensive) taxi 10 minutes along the road to another restaurant/bar on another beach where we sit cross legged on mats laid out under squat tables – brilliant! We venture to a couple more bars that night on the same beach. One which was a bit quiet saw the barman entertaining themselves by putting talcum powder on all the guests faces and at another we met two Cambodian barman who we got to practice our Khmer with. I also got taught some of the fundamentals of fire twirling and we had fun dancing in different wigs courtesy of the Thai couple who were the owners. Given the price of taxis (300 Baht – about $12aus for a 1/2km ride), we decided to hire a motorbike for a couple of days. The only paved road is on the part of the island where our resort sits but is not where the better beaches are. So we headed over the dirt and deeply rutted roads on a mission of discovery, building up my arm muscles as I struggled to keep myself, Cara and the motorbike moving in a straight line and upright! It was great fun and we did some great exploring, discovering a couple of beautiful, pretty, deserted beaches. We also found a sign saying “Sunset” and headed there the next night to watch the sun go down across the great expanse of ocean. We also did some walking, one day heading around a couple of peninsulas and some serious rock traversing to get to a secluded beach. Unfortunately it wasn’t a great beach and with concerns over the tide coming in and us being stranded we headed straight back. It was an absolutely steaming hot day and we followed our trekking with a swim at the beach in front of our resort. The water is like a bath but it still better to be immersed than sweating in the heat. I went to stand up in the water and put my foot straight onto a sea urchin. God, did it sting! I had no idea what a sting from a sea urchin entails so waddled to reception to ask their advice. One of the guys sat me down on the decking and dosed my foot in vinegar and then proceeded to tap it on the four puncture wounds with a beer bottle, luckily it was kind of numb. He told me what had entered my foot would come out of its own accord in about three days – oh good, at least I wasn’t going to keel over or anything. The rhythm of the island is go out late, stay out late and get up late, so that’s what we did. We met a local tattoo artist called Gai who also did a fire show at night so we went and checked that out. I have to say it was one of the best fire shows I’ve seen in Thailand and in 9 visits I’ve seen a few. There were 6 of them who shared the limelight and stretch of sand in front of the Silver Sands bar. They were all brown as berries with buff bodies bathed in perspiration so even without their fire show skills I think myself, Cara and every single female there, would have been kept entertained. There was cute factor as well as Gai’s nephew aged 7 put on his own fireshow – he was awesome, full of confidence and his own tricks! There were also gorgeous little puppies wandering around the beach mats so my world was pretty much complete – hot bods and cute puppies! We ate like kings, drank like fish and slept like babes – the perfect holiday!

Weddings, sunday rides and rude words

2009-04-08T18:00:00.009+10:00

Emily, Kurt and Sobonn - heading out on our Sunday ride

Playing support crew at the Mekong River annual swim

Giving my wee silk selling friend a lift on Silk Island.

Having lunch at the beach, Silk Island Locals enjoying being in and on the water - Mekong River, Silk Island Dr Somuny's sisters wedding

Oxen and cart outside my apartment on Street 242.

Butchering pigs then shaving them also on the street along from my apartment

I love Cambodians! Leaving work yesterday one of the drivers (who never stops smiling and laughing) said to me “Yackie, you look very beautiful today” Isn’t that so nice? Of course, in my flustered state I said back to him in Khmer “It’s hot” instead of “thank you” but I think he got the message. And why Yackie?? there’s no “J” in the Khmer language so I quite often get called Yackie. “Yackie” –Yaklike, a bovine creature of hairy appearance with long horns. I’ll leave that thought right there. We had another trip to Sihanoukville and the beach the other weekend. We managed to get a taxi down there for a Khmer price – almost half of what we paid for the last trip. It’s great having Khmer friends to make the booking for you. Funnily enough it was the same driver and car that took us the first time. We were a few hours later reaching Sihnoukville, however, as the driver had to go to the market and then make deliveries enroute - we paid the Cambodian price it’s only fitting we receive the Cambodian level of service. We stay at “Cloud 9” bungalows this time, it's a great place with bugalows built up the hill behind the sea. They do food and have a bar with a barman that’s all character and pink shirts. He's a good choice of barman cause you want to sit and have a couple while he spins the lines in his Khmer-English with an American accent. Friday night is fairly eventful and not necessarily in a good way. We’re standing waiting for some food to be cooked when someone yells out “cool look, fireworks” we can see sparks flying into the sky across the road but soon realize it’s not fireworks but a fire! A whole guest house, newly built, goes up before our eyes. All that’s left is a shell in what feels like minutes. There’s no fire brigade and we fell sick as we wonder if there was anyone inside. As it turned out a friend of ours met last time we were in S.Ville was the only one staying there and thank god he wasn’t inside at the time. He'd had to race back in to rescue his possessions but wasn't lucky enought to save everything. Worse still the owners saw it as a chance to recoop some of their loses and decided to lay the blame for the fire at Rob's feet. He discoverd this the next day when he went to the Police station to make a report for his insurance. The police let him know that he was being held responsible and accordingly he had to pay a $30,000 fine. Thankfully he works locally and could bring in reinforcements in the form of a priest and the priests very ivfluential friends who happened to also be police – the charges were dropped straight away. Just shows how quickly things can go pear shaped here and just as quickly, if you're lucky, go right again. We spent most of the rest of the weekend lazing around Otres beach on sun loungers and frolicking (so maybe we weren’t frolicking but the word sounded right) in a sea with a very tepid temperature. The young girls that wander the beach trying to entice you into purchasing their wares are not aggressive. They’re just happy to spend time sitting on your sunlounger in the shade chatting and sharing a laugh until you know them enough that you give in and end up buying something that you really didn’t want or need. Well that’s how it is for me anyway. Over two days I ended up; getting a massage, buying a sarong and three bracelets (had to be fair, couldn’t buy off one girl and not another) and agreeing to having my leg hair plucked out individually with some lengths of cotton! Gees, these girls can be convincing! Five minutes into the hair extraction I was regretting my insanity as my calf cramped up and I leapt up off the sunlounger sending both girls (one for each leg) flying off the end of it. Quite an entertaining thing to watch I can imagine as the girls shrieked with surprise and then laughter. The next week saw me attending another Khmer wedding celebration, this time for the sister of our Executive Director. Amazingly, by Khmer standards she’s ancient for getting married, she’s 42! Actually that’s ancient by Western standards – there’s hope for me yet :o) The whole of MEDiCAM leaves from work at 8am and heads south for 40mins to Kampong Speu where the party/ceremony is taking place. As we arrive we are made to feel like VIP’s as we’re led to sit with the bridal party and their family. The Master of Ceremonies (who oddly has a Hitler type mustache drawn on his lip and a wig of dreadlocks on his head) draws attention to our arrival and especially to the two westerners. We’re just in time to see the third of the five ceremonies, the second having taken place at 7am that morning and the first the night before. The bride has her own stylist to assist with costume changes and hair and makeup throughout the day. Mr Hak our communications manager translates the proceedings to me which are like the Khmers themselves, steeped in tradition but also amazingly colorful, relaxed and full of fun. We watch one other ceremony and then head off in different directions until we all come back together at 4pm for the eating of the meal. The girls head off to get their hair and makeup done and the boys head off to the neighbors house to play cards and try and win money off each other. Me and Emily head to the markets for a look see. It’s like all Cambodian markets, tightly packed together stalls selling anything from underwear to offal and full of smells that make your eyes water. We get back to the wedding all dolled up (not to be outdone by our Khmer sisters) but don’t eat until the majority of the guests have eaten and left. I find it quite strange but most of the guests arrive, eat, provide a present in the form of a donation and then leave. It’s only family and close friends that stay around for any length of time and get involved in the drinking and the dancing. Of course MEDiCAM gets really involved in the drinking and dancing – myself and Emily struggle to get any time in our seats as we’re constantly approached for a dance around the table of fruit. The boys are drinking whiskey with soda and getting really quite merry. There’s no issue of getting pulled up for drunk driving however as the local police officer is drinking with them, that is when he’s not up dancing or singing with the band. He’s handedly parked his police motorcycle in amongst the wedding tables – hey there are criminals out there! We return to Phnom Penh the next morning with many a sore head, amazingly for once it’s not the westerners who have been the drunken bums and best of all we don’t have to be back at work until after lunch which means 1.30!

I have another action packed weekend which includes breakfast at Java and a visit to the Russian Market to drop off a skirt to be altered. Then we move onto Khmer massages and a facial – oh what bliss. My body and my face are in second heaven! I’m then running late for dinner which is Indian with a very annoying Indian owner “oh no, you must have two Chappati, you cannot be having only one”. Then it’s off to a show – The Vagina Monologues and a full house. I’d never heard of it before but apparently it’s been on in Australia for a few years. A show created to bring awareness of and support to the abuse of women. The funniest bit would have to be the moaning sequence where when asked what the moan of a single female expat. in Phnom Penh sounds like . . . there was silence. Yep, there sure aren’t much moaning going on here!

Sunday, four of us meet early for lunch and then head off on our cycles across the Japanese Friendship bridge to watch the start of the annual Mekong swim. The fastest swimmer made it across in 7min the slowest in 45 - but hey he was 71. We hitched a ride on a ferry with our bikes and headed across to silk island where I’d been a few weeks earlier with Peta. It was nice cycling along the narrow dirt road surrounded by mango trees, fields and cows although it wasn’t really what you’d call peaceful as a lady on her motorbike decided to ride along beside us chatting. Even Sobonn who’s Khmer thought she could talk a lot. We eventually agreed to buy lunch off her and she left us be. We spent a few hours at the beach again and I gave in and bought a piece of silk and some scarves. The weaving is really exquisite. It was a glorious day in the heat and dust on our bikes, we ended up clocking up about 70km’s and our bodies definitely noticed they’d done some work. Monday sees me and Emily swotting for our Khmer lesson on Tuesday. Last week I asked our tutor if we could move onto the next lesson but she told us not until we'd past the first one - oh the pressure! We did ok though and have moved on although she did say we needed to be careful when we said "hot" as said wrongly could be a bad word. Of course we asked her what bad word but she just giggled and said it was to do with men but was too embarrassed to tell us. That would explain the reason the driver is always smiling and giggling when I talk to him. There's me thinking I've been saying "it's very hot" and instead I've been telling him he's got a very big . . . .

2009-03-25T19:23:00.003+10:00

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

2009-03-13T16:57:00.007+10:00

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

2009-03-06T17:29:00.003+10:00

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.

Exercise, Sunsets and Sucking it up

2009-02-27T19:37:00.003+10:00

I had to break the news to Yuan today that I’d bought myself a motorbike and would no longer be needing his services. I really felt quite bad about it and it took me until the afternoon to get the courage up, I've paid him for the week as I wanted to give him some notice and I don't know if that's more to ease my feeling of guilt or to keep paying him for just a bit longer. A friend had said that Motodop drivers struggle to earn about a dollar a day and here was me giving Yuan $4 a day, which has hopefully helped that little bit. One day on coming out from work I find him waiting for me and reading a pamphlet on English lessons and I hoped that to some degree I was making those English lessons possible for him. However, a week later the Moto is running like a hairy goat and I think I was actually quite lucky to be making it to work and back each day. He took the motorbike in over the weekend to be fixed and it cost him $70, a massive amount of money when you’re earning $1 a day or even $4 a day. (In Australian terms that would amount to approximately the equivalent of $15,000 to $20,000.) And then I have to go and break the news to him that his $4 a day is about to disappear before his eyes??? Crap! Still, all I can do is hope that he has been sensible with the money he’s earnt so far and that his positive Buddhist philosophy kicks in. As I’ve already paid Yuan for the coming week, there’s every chance he might not turn up for our next journey to MEDiCAM. But, my faith in my believe that human beings will generally do the “right thing” is restored as I open my gate the next morning and see him sitting there on his motorbike waiting for me, the usual big smile on his face. I’ve bought a flashing rear light for my pushbike and get some funny reactions from young Khmers as they ride past me on my way to attend the NataRaj Yoga centre on Monday night. I really enjoy the experience of gently pushing my body into the extremes of its capability in a yoga class. After years of running and cycling there’s just no way my calves are ever going to stretch enough to place my feet flat on the ground in “downward dog” but I’m definitely up for the challenge of seeing how much closer to flat I can get them. I’ll be the first to admit however, that I have a very short attention span and find my mind is wandering throughout the class to what I’m going to have for dinner when I’m meant to be “with my breath”. Oh well, onwards and upwards or should that be downwards! I took myself off for lunch today at Khmer “Starbucks” – they’ve improved on the menu since I was last there. They now have the meals written in English so you can more accurately order what you want. I say, more accurately, because although I ordered Fried Rice with Chicken today I got served some kind of pork dish. If I was at home I probably would have told them it was the wrong order and got then to replace it but here I just look it as an opportunity to try something I might not otherwise have tried. I’d been feeling a bit out of sorts today so decide that going for a run and getting my blood coursing through my veins is just what is required. And so, I jump on my lovely white stead with the white-wall tires and run the gauntlet of traffic along Sihanouk Boulevard to the Independence Monument. I feel every trip on my bike is a daredevil adventure where only those with the fleetest-of-wheel, keenest of vision and nerves of steel, survive! Well, it’s not quite that bad but you get the picture. I can’t wait to start riding my Scooby to work next week! All my lovely Khmer friends have beaten me there and are already exercising – there are hundreds of them! Mostly walking, but also playing badminton, some kind of football and there’s a couple of runners besides me as well. (That’s good! when I used to run at lunchtime in Dublin, 10 years ago, I was always the only one.) It really is a social outing; children are playing, non exercisers are sitting and watching and entrepreneurs are peddling their wares. These amount to, bottles of water and other adventurous drinks as well as sets of domestic bathroom scales, obviously to check if the exercise is actually doing some good. The Independence Monument sits at the top of this park where all the action is taking place. It is like a massive medium strip surrounded by busy roads on all edges. It has a wide expanse of grassed area in the middle with a footpath traveling all the way around the edge and crossing it in sections. I stop after my run to sit and watch one of the many football games, taking place all along one edge of the park. The game is fast and furious and they’re playing on concrete with only two of the players wearing shoes. The goals are sets of jandals, the sidelines; the grassed verge on one side and the road and passing traffic on the other. The ball is small (about the size of a coconut) hollow and made out of cane, I think. It’s tough though or maybe it’s just lucky and manages to miss the cars wheels as it frequently rolls out into the traffic. Most of them play in tshirts and jeans which make it seem like they’ve just started up an impromptu game, but I have a feeling that these guys have been coming here for years developing their skills. Groups of Monks stroll past me in their beautiful tangerine coloured gowns as the sun is setting behind the Monument on another beautiful Khmer day. A friend Ang, wrote on her Faceook today what I thought was a great quotation: “Life is tough, Suck it up”. It made me stop and think that it’s usually the people that are the worst off that actually do, just that. They “suck it up”. Maybe the easier we have it the more whinging and complaining we do?? And no, that trait is definitely not just reserved for those lovely friends of ours from the UK – lets just listen to ourselves for a while; “it’s too hot”, “it’s too cold”, “petrol is soo expensive”, “that b@@stard just dared to try and move into my lane”, “there’s no time to do anything”, “there’s too many bus lanes”, “cyclists should be banned from existence”, “if only people weren’t so stupid” etc, etc – we’re all guilty of it. Ok, so it’s all relative you say, but maybe, we’ve actually lost a bit of our touch with reality. Maybe we should just practice “sucking it up” a bit more. I’m going to try, anyway.

Scooby, Italian men and Hokey Pokey icecream

2009-02-23T19:27:00.002+10:00

Right no more movies at the Meta House for a while! Being suckers for punishment we went again on Tuesday night and watched a film more horrific than the one from last week. This one was filmed in the 1970’s straight after the Vietnamese assisted in removing Pol Pot and his cronies from power. It’s pretty harrowing but if you want to see exactly how cruel man can be against his own kind then this is the movie for you! And unusually, in this case, the association for cruelty was not religion or oil, just greed for power and a deluded, demented strategy for their own kind and country. If you talk to teenagers here they’ll say, that the Khmer Rouge time was their parents life and has nothing to do with them. A fairly shortsighted view when you consider the psychological scars that have to have been passed onto the next generation plus if you take into consideration the condition of the country and how it has taken the last 30 something years to crawl its way back from the brink in the main part through the assistance of other countries. How can they believe that it means nothing to them as half the country still struggles for enough to eat and clean water to drink? But a friend wisely pointed out, in Buddhism, there is no yesterday, no tomorrow there is only today. Hhhmm I think there could be a a big debate bubbling away on the surface of that cauldron. I need a good old dose of American cinematographic escapism for a while :o) Well it wasn’t quite what I ordered but Friday night dished up a French movie which is almost always better than American (at the French Cultural Centre) but this one left me a little perplexed. The best bit was the cost (free) and the, oh so lovely air-conditioning. For a line in all that’s new – I walked out of the office today to go and meet a friend for lunch and saw both a goat and a brood of chickens pecking away at the grass. What did you see outside work when you left your office today? I picked up my new Honda Scooby on the weekend. Oh she’s so fine, 50cc of pure power!! Me and Scooby, scooby’ed around for a while, getting the feel of the road and then I stopped at a supermarket to buy a bottle of red. At this juncture I’d just like to comment on the fact that you can buy a bottle of vodka (Smirnoff) for the same price as a bottle of red and what’s more, you can buy both of them at the supermarket! But I digress,...... it all got a bit embarrassing on Scooby at the supermarket as I quickly got told by the lovely Khmer man that I’d parked in the wrong spot and then getting all flustered at having to move her I couldn’t then work out how to release the seat to remove my wallet and bag from her neither regions. Finally a man (don’t you love being a female and having a man turn up at just the right time, bugger woman’s lib, I could’ve been there all day!) arrived on his scooter looking like he was just picking up some treats before heading off to Mardi Gras (I hope he doesn’t read this). He was Italian I think, judging from the accent but what better person to help me with my scooter problem? He showed me that I needed to give my seat a good whack before pushing the key in and sure enough up the seat popped. We’ll that’s lesson number one of riding Scooby out of the way. I thought it safer to go straight home with my bottle of vodka and wine – I’m just kidding! I only got the wine - and save more adventures with Scooby for another day. The power went off again on Friday night, which was ok as it was nearly bedtime anyway. I turned the fan on in my bedroom in the vain hope it would come on again while I was asleep but unfortunately it was still off the next morning. As fate would have it, I’d actually polished off my ($6aus for a scoop and a bit) New Zealand Hokey Pokey ice-cream the night before, so all was not lost. Sunday was a tough day, I found myself a hotel pool to lie beside and practice my Khmer while sipping juice shakes and eating chicken sandwiches. I topped that off with half price cocktails at FCC for Sunday aftenooners. A nice relaxing weekend indeed.

Udong, photography course Feb 09

2009-02-17T17:14:00.010+10:00

I had an interesting mix of a week this week, sadness, adventure, learning and experiencing new surroundings. Let us begin with the sadness so that things move upwards from there :o). I’ll attempt to put into words my emotions from Thursday night but suffice to say it was such a moving few hours where the reality of living in Phnom Penh, which is not my experienced reality, hit home. We cycled to “Meta House” which is an art studio with mini movie theatre and bar on the top floor. Lights were already out when we slipped into our seats and the sights and sounds of modern day Phnom Penh beam out at us. The theme of the short movie is “Red Earth Village - Dey Krahorm” one of the last real “village” communities left in Phnom Penh and scene of an unfair and unlawful eviction in January this year. It’s quite a sobering thought that while I was laying in my bed on the 24th January, families were experiencing the total and complete destruction of their homes, belongings and livelihood. The movie started its story well before the eviction by introducing us to some of the families, the circumstances that led them to find a home on this piece of ground, their initial struggle to establish their homes, their struggle to earn a living, their families growing up and the obvious happiness of their children and grandchildren at being able to attend school. The piece of land the developers wanted and ultimately took, was 3.6 hectares of prime real estate valued at $44million UsD. The land was originally given to this whole community through a Social Land Concession Grant by the Council of Ministers back in 2003. Some of the families buckled under the pressure and took the money, or alternatively the house the developers were offering. The money incidentally, is not enough to buy any form of housing within Phnom Penh so taking what was offered meant settling for living miles from where their family, friends and social services and businesses were. Significant to the people of Dey Krahorm is the total loss of any sort of community and support network if they took the offer. That sense of community is something that has been lost to us but which here it is so much a part of life. People come out of their houses and squat on the street chatting with their neighbours for hours. I’ve lived in places in Australia where I never even knew my neighbours let alone sat and chatted to them. Even borrowing a cup of sugar from your neighbours has all but disappeared. At 3am on the 23th January without any warning armed government forces, police and private contractors employed by the developer surrounded Dey Krahorm. At 6am they moved in using weapons, tear gas and bulldozers as residents screamed their shock and disbelieve. Scenes of children crying, old ladies wailing and people running as destructive machinery crunched through the rubble of what remained of their homes filled the screen. The families had no time to salvage belongings as in a matter of hours the village had been flattened and over 100 families displaced. Following the movie, three very brave students from the Dey Krahorm school who along with their families had lost their homes, got up to speak on their experiences and feelings as a result of the eviction. Very simply and with great composure they described how sad they were, sad at the loss of their school, sad for their families and upset for their friends. The displaced families, now homeless and emotionally distraught have been placed on land 14km out of the city with very few facilities. However this situation is only temporary and since the developer has withdrawn their offer of money or housing, it is unclear what will become of these families. For now they are reliant on the assistance of donations. There are many NGO’s providing legal advice and advocating fair treatment for these types of development/eviction situations. No one seeks to stop progress but they do seek to ensure families are not pressured into accepting minimal compensation. In this case and in many others there has been no fair compensation for people that legally own their land. Because this eviction was situated in the centre of Phnom Penh it received a lot of media attention but such evictions are continuing to happen around Cambodia. So that was the sad part of the week, for the rest, I spent my Saturday on a photography course which provided me with the learning part of my week. Adventure, came in the form of travelling in a Cambodia taxi out on the country roads and experiencing new surroundings through visiting the floating village and the ancient city of Udong. There were two other people on the course and believe it or not they were both from QLD! We spent the morning in the studio going over technology, techniques and also composition. At 12.30 the four of us hit the road in a taxi which truly was a “thrilling” adventure. You know the deal, overtaking on blind corners, overtaking so far onto the wrong side of the road that you almost run over a pedestrian walking along who justifiable hurls abuse at you. Worse was the return trip in the dark where you could already see 5 or 6 lights coming straight at you when the driver decids to overtake! As one of the others girls said, “best just to shut your eyes and hope for the best”. Today would have to be one of the hottest I’ve experienced yet and so it was nice to be propelled along the river in a boat which created some breeze. We got to experience and take 100’s of photos of what life consists of for these people. I wonder if they are sceptical about these people floating past, cameras in hand, taking photos of them doing what they normally do. I guess it would be like a busload of Japanese tourists being let through our homes and offices to take photos to show the folks back home. The children are a delight, yelling out hallo and waving and waving. We see people washing their hair in the river, men dropping off and weighing loads of fish, shops floating past selling their wares and all to the back drop of vibrant colours, all blues and yellows mixed in with the grey of faded wood. Our next stop was Udong which was the capital of Cambodia a few hundred years ago. Although some of the structures have been destroyed by the Khmer Rouge a lot remain intact and some of the others are being restored, like a massive gold Buddha that is pretty much back to new. We have a couple of kids accompany us on our journey around the buildings and monuments and up and down the many, many stairs. They are very entertaining as they laugh and fool about, singing and dancing and posing on some of the statues. We are here just as the sun is setting and it truly is glorious as in the fading light we capture images of the stunning structures while hearing the chanting of monks from the Wat we can see far below us in the distance. Hopefully my photos do these two places justice, I have saved them at the Picassa web page:

Udong and the floating village

Other than that, I went for my first run at day break on Friday morning at the Olympic stadium. There were 100’s of Khmers already there, doing Tai Chi, aerobics and running around the steps. The experience was great, the run not so much - lets see if I repeat the exercise.

Home Sweet Home and other photos

2009-02-13T23:53:00.004+10:00

Kitchen with 2nd bathroom through door. Fridge and pantry

Bedroom (with ensuite through door)

Reception room / study (above and below)

(Below, lounge cum exercise room)

View from back balcony at FCC (Foreing Correspondent Club)

Precious cargo

Precious cargo of a differnt kind

Nature and Sea cafe

Tonle Sap River

Some anecdotes and the week that was

2009-02-10T17:44:00.013+10:00

A couple of anecdotes to start this weeks blog:

On helping to correct the English on the minutes of a meeting for one of my workmates I couldn't’t help but have a chuckle to myself at this final sentence: “the meeting finished at 11.30am of the same date and year with productive meeting”

This must have been a short meeting, I don’t think I’d like to attend those that cross into a new date or god forbid, new year. Mr Khun Another sweet piece of Cambodia: Khun asked me what you call it when a bee touches you. I told him it was “sting”. He then shared with me a lovely Khmer saying. When you’ve been waiting for someone a long time you say “I’ve been waiting so long my eyes sting” From someone who is (hopefully) reformed from always keeping people waiting I thought this was a really cute saying.

My hips and lower back felt like I’d gone three rounds with Costa Zoo, who would have thought yoga would make you so sore? Definitely belong to the school of “if it hurts, it’s got to be good for you though and it wasn’t anything an hours massage couldn’t put right. That was Monday and Tuesday I was back at the gym. Rode over to Mara’s hotel to pick her up and we rode the 10mins to the gym – everything is so close now I’ve got my lovely bike. We followed up the workout with dinner at the Boddhi Tree which is a lovely wee sanctuary opposite the scene of one of Cambodia’s worst moments in history. The Toul Sleung museum and venue for the 1000’s of executions performed by the Khmer Rouge in the 70’s. Putting that aside, dinner was lovely in a setting of tables and chairs dotted amongst trees and climbing vines. Unfortunately the mosquitoes also thought it was a lovely spot and dinned on us while we ate quickly and left. Unfortunately, a nice dinner was followed the next day by another bout of the dodgy tummy. Managed to make it through the rest of the day at work but crashed on getting home and had to put off dinner with another friend. The dodgy tummy syndrome is so common and everyone is used to people not being able to meet up or having to head home early and quickly as those nasty bugs play havoc with our unaccustomed belly’s. I haven’t heard of anyone being really ill here yet, although one of the AYADs did develop malaria not long after arriving in Phnom Penh and post a trip out into the provinces. Not a nice thing to have but soon sorted with readily accessible drugs.

Thursday was made more interesting at work as Michelle came to visit. We talked about an organizational review document she’s pulling together for her NGO and then went and had lunch. There’s really nothing of any interest in Toul Kork, the suburb I work in but it just so happened a café had opened up last week near by so that’s where we headed. It is hilariously a Starbucks rip-off with the full Starbucks colour scheme and logo, only this one if called Terrace Cafe. The menu was all in Khmer and although they had pictures we still weren’t sure what we were ordering. Mine ended up being chicken with peanuts and about 3 stalks of thickly chopped lemon grass. Once I managed to remove all the debris it was actually tasty. Returning to work I had some work to do as I went with the office manager to measure up the venue they’ll be using for the AGM in March. I produced a seating plan and exhibition lay out which kept me amused for a few hours.

Thursday night I finally put my exercise ball to use and followed one of those cringe inducing American instructional DVD’s complete with fake tans, boobs and teeth all on prominent display. I used to pay $17 to do Bikram yoga in Brisbane which is held in a specially heated room to aid suppleness and encourage detoxification. Here, I only need to workout in my living room! Friday was spent being a participant in an interview panel for the Trainer/Coach position at my NGO. As well as normal interview questions, the participants had to read a English article from the Cambodian Daily and explain to us their understanding of the context of the article. They also had to do a written English test on a computer of at least 200 words in half an hour. I got away at 6pm excited about the long weekend ahead with one of the 25 annual (government recognized) public holidays set for Monday. Yuan took me straight to the Australian Embassy where I’d missed the BBQ but where embassy staff were ready and waiting for my order behind the bar. The crowd was low key and a mix of volunteers, UN staff and friends. In one of those “it’s a small world” moments I got introduced to a Cambodian girl called Nim which happened to be the name of the Khmer language tutor I had contacted during the week via the Expat Advisory Service website. And yes, it was the same girl.

Carel, me, Cara and Leila at the Australian embassy

Pajamas have become the latest trend amongst fashion conscious Khmer woman. No longer are these brightly coloured ensembles with cute little animals and cartoon characters to be kept hidden away at home for bed wear. Now they can be seen, shopping at the mall, riding on motorbikes or walking down the street. I’m really envious, how comfortable to be able to hang out in your Jim jams all day! And so when some of the Ayads got invited to a Pajama part on Friday night they had no trouble finding the perfect outfit. After the Embassy, we headed to an awesome pub across the road called “Elsewhere” which is rumored to be shutting down. (It’s a bit like those carpet shops at home from what I understand.) The venue is what looks like a colonial house with big front yard dotted with trees and palms and a centerpiece swimming pool.

Balinese type platforms with cushions to laze around on are dotted around the pool and as we were early we managed to find one free. About 10/11pm this place gets really busy and there’s just about standing room only – not too close to the pool though unless you want to get wet. Of course drunk boys are going to take off their shirts and start doing bombs – it’s only natural! I was hungry so decided to get my evening carbs in the form of a cocktail. Banana, coconut, lime and vodka! My gosh, it was sooo good. A traveling Canadian brother and sister duo joined our platform and it was interesting to hear their experiences and views on Cambodia from the day and a half that they’ve been here. Unfortunately the stand out for them is that all Tuk-Tuk drivers are crooks and the whole country is full of people trying to rip them off. Oops not good, hopefully that will turn around for them in the time they have left.

Saturday was spent shopping including checking out a supermarket I hadn’t been to before, lots of goodies from home like Bega cheese. I did get a bit carried away with my purchases and then had the challenge of trying to load all the stuff onto my bike (see photo) Caught up with Cara and Leila for lunch at a café called Nature & Sea. It’s up three flights which is effectively the roof of the building. There’s more platforms with cushions and a beautiful breeze. It’s times like this, when you’re chatting with friends in a different but amazing scene that you truly appreciate being away from home and all that is familiar to you.

Michelle and her Tuk-Tuk driver, Tinny, come and pick me up and we head out of town a ways to the Northbridge school and venue for an Expat touch rugby team. It’s a beautiful spot out here, so green and lush with little pollution and best of all no noise! It’s so peaceful I really want to curl up in a hammock and go to sleep. We watch for a hour or so then both decide we really need to get home for a nana nap before dinner tonight. I get an hour’s shut eye but no sleep and then “glam up” for the first time since being here. This equates to putting on make-up, wearing a maxi dress, doing something “up” with my hair and wearing my “bling” Haviannas. On coming out of my gate I am rewarded for my efforts by my neighbor saying “owww, beautiful”, “you go to party” I explained I was going to a birthday party and he said he also was going to a birthday party later – the governor of Phnom Penhs birthday party.

Dinner and the venue, Khmer Serin were really lovely with a big crowd having turned out to wish Cara a happy birthday. The crowd splits after dinner as some people head to a party and we head to “Pontoon” where it’s hip hop night. What a brilliant night, I haven’t danced so much in years. A hip hop crew performs some exhibition dancing and they are amazing. It truly is unbelievable how agile they are and how they just seem to completely disregard the laws of physics. They’re trying hard for that American look with baggy, baggy pants hand held clasped at the crutch and head gear in the form of baseball cap or grid iron net. $4 Mojitos are the order of the night and if you’re not dancing there’s always entertainment in the form of people watching as the crowd is a real interesting mix. “Pontoon” IS actually a pontoon on the river and we have to climb the gangway up to the street when we leave at 2.30am. The Vida recommended Tuk-Tuk driver has an uncanny knack for knowing when to turn up and at what venue and we all exclaim our relief and delight when we see “Mr Jim” waiting for us. Cara texts me the next morning saying they are laying around the pool and it takes me a further half an hour to get the gumption to actually get out of bed. I feel wrecked after my big night of dancing and have the luxury of being able to blame my age. Cara has discovered a great wee oasis of a hotel for her friend Leila’s visit and I join them for sun baking and dipping. The staff let you use the pool if you’re not staying at the hotel as long as you buy some drinks or food and I think this could become a refuge in the hot days to come.

The tailor at the Russian Market has forgotten that she said she’d have our clothes ready today and asks us to come back at 5pm. We shop and have a vegetarian lunch then shop some more. Finally 5 o'

clock comes and our new outfits are ready. It was actually worth the wait, as the tailor had done a really good job. By this stage I am completely exhausted and fall into the first Tuk-Tuk I see. I have one of my many cold showers a day and flop onto my couch. I think I’m out for a good couple of hours and awake to find text messages on the phone that was sitting right beside me and went completely unheard. Arrr, the sound sleep of the completely wrecked.

My saving grace is Monday is a public holiday and I wake up refreshed after an early night and head to the gym. I’m the only person there at 7.30am and I watch with shock CNN and the horrific news from home, the Victorian bush fires and all their devastating carnage. I try Skyping Mum when I get home but my Internet is down. Mike picks me up and we head out of town along the river to go to a factory that makes furniture out of water hyacinth, a similar look to Rattan. Ikea have discovered it apparently so you’ll probably see the products in a venue near you soon. I give into temptation and buy a chaise lounge and pouffe as well as a massive vase type ornament (it stands about 4ft) and a storage container all for $100. Now I just have to work out how I’m going to get it home to Australia. Their products are all made by hand and I ask to take a photo of the ladies who are working at making some containers. They chuckle and grin and are happy to have their photo taken. One elderly lady removes her hat especially and gives a beautiful wide grin. It’s 12 o’clock and they all down tools and punch their cards into the time keeping clock. The elderly lady turns to say good-bye as she leaves and reveals a mouth of absolutely no teeth. She is gorgeous this little old lady with her beautiful grin. (see photos)

2009-02-05T13:15:00.005+10:00

Chanthy the Tuk-Tuk driver and a little bit of Western intervention Chanthy is a lovely middle aged Khmer man with a wife and two children. His survival and the survival of his family is protected through the money he earns driving a Tuk-Tuk1. It is customers such as Westerners or Asian holidaymakers eg, Koreans, Singaporeans etc that generate most of his income. It’s a tough way to eek out a living as competition for fares is high amongst the 100’s of Tuk-Tuks in Phnom Penh. Plus they have further competition in the form of Motodops (motorbike taxis, which are nimbler and quicker through the heavy traffic)

Most drivers just play the sit, wait and hope game, occasionally asking the passing foot traffic if “you want Tuk-Tuk”. Sickness is something most Khmer families cannot afford to budget for and in Chanthy’s case his Tuk-Tuk was already in bad repair and his motorbike running on a wing and a prey when his son became ill. He tried local medicine which comprised of feeding his son ash and only seemed to be making his son worse.

Around this time Lydia and Mike had moved to Phnom Penh for volunteer work and started to use Chanthy’s services to transport them about. One of Chanthy’s best advantages is his good command of English and over a period of a few weeks Lydia and Mike came to know and like Chanthy very well. The story of his son was eventually uncovered and by this time Chanthy had already been to a loan-shark to obtain the $40 required to repair the engine on his motorbike and keep his only form of livelihood running (literally). Lydia and Mike are just normal, honest and caring people but what they’ve done has been monumental in Chanthy and his families life’s. Small things like passing on sparkplugs from Mikes bike, to Lydia printing up signs for the Tuk-Tuk to promote Chanthy’s services which include day trips and translation. To remarkable things (at least in Chanthy’s eyes) like loaning him the money to assist him to tidy up his Tuk-Tuk with new upholstery and paint, pay his son’s doctors bills and actually buy a new motorbike. (The old one’s engine having given up the ghost two weeks after being fixed by the money from the loan-shark) Lydia and Mike also wanted to provide a constructive way that Chanthy’s wife; (Chantoo) could supplement the family income. Chantoo previously had a job at a garment factory earning 5c for each shirt and trouser outfit she completed but had to relinquish it on the birth of their second child due to a lack of child care. The factories in the recent past had been outsourcing sewing to those with machines at home but this has stopped with the economic downturn. So instead they have bought her a sugar cane machine, something that will have a very positive effect on Chanthy and his family and an investment out of the reach of many locals. Chanthy is now becoming very busy, through word of mouth and repeat business, so much so that Lydia and Mike now have to book him in advance, of which they couldn’t be happier! So that plus his wife’s income, through the sale of sugar cane juice, means that Chanthy was able to make his first repayment to them within 6 weeks. Not only was he able to pay almost 5 times the kind repayment fee Lydia and Mike had set, he was also able to repay his loan sharks, buy new shoes, register his new bike, and take his family out to dinner (probably for the first time ever!). All this from a lovely Cambodian who couldn't afford a new inner tube a month and a half ago. I thought this was just such a positive, encouraging story of people’s good will and the ability of a smart man to turn his life around given the opportunity.

Thanks to Lydia and Mike for letting me retell their story. I hope myself and all other westerners living or visiting here can have their own such positive stories. 1 A Tuk-Tuk is a two wheeled carriage motorized by a motorbike which is fixed in place where the motorbikes backseat is . It has a roof but exposed sides, and has two bench seats facing each other. You can easily fit 10 Cambodians inside, but only about 4 westerners.

Photo of Chanthy, Mike and the new sugar cane machine.

The last week of January - livin it up in P.P

2009-02-02T22:55:00.005+10:00

I think it’s curious that now I’m living in a foreign country I am finally interested in the news and what’s happening around the rest of the world. But then again it could just be because I now have the luxury of Cable and it’s being thrown at me from multiple different channels. Watching bad movies on Cable is what encompasses my Tuesday night this week. I’m still a bit fragile from Sunday night/Monday mornings events, and am not brave enough to venture outside the house. I lay on the couch in my front room, reading and keeping half an eye on the Tv while the sounds of Phnom Penh let themselves in through the windows I’ve left open for the breeze. The ”Ta Ban Club” is directly across the road from me, (three strides and I’m there). Big neon signs tell you in English that it’s a “massage and restaurant” establishment. Now it could just be the uncultured western part of me but I’d rather be offered a “pedicure or facial with my massage” rather than “Asian noodles or rice”. The entrance attracts a crowd of Khmer men most nights playing some game of cards they’ve laid out on a sack on the ground. Tonight they’re completely raucous and you don’t need to understand the language to know someone is either losing very badly or winning extremely well by the hoots, shouting and laughing that’s going on. I go to bed early, beat, and dream I’m back in Australia, at work. It goes something like this: . . . we’re all told an emergency meeting has been called and everyone has to get to the main hall quickly. Everyone is rushing because no one wants to be the last there and be singled out by the speaker. I sit down and am busy saying hallo to lots of different people when the speaker begins. I’m surprised it’s not the CEO but is instead someone from Comms. She’s very flamboyant and “made up” and I forget to listen to what she’s saying for a while as I focus on what she’s wearing and the way she’s done her hair. Once I tune in I realize she’s saying things along the lines of how she's sick of the situation at Suncorp, how she’s sick of doing the work of three people etc, etc. There’s murmuring all around me and I turn to someone next to me and say, “I don’t think this meeting has been organized by the Execs” everyone agrees and we soon realize it’s a staff revolt organized by the Comms department. We’re all amazed and kind of in awe at the braveness of it all. . . Now, some of you have been privy to the retelling of my dreams before and thought you would find this one close to home although not as interesting as some of my others have been. :o) Note to Nat: don’t worry this dream has no direct link to anyone I know personally who may or may not work in Comms herself. Srey greets me in the morning with a Khmer phrase that I actually recognize and I repeat it back to her hoping it’s the equivalent of the French ”cava?”, “cava!” I think she’s happy that I am better anyway. The streets are still quiet because of Chinese New Year and Yuan and I fly to work. I spend the day preparing questions for external interviews. Four of the staff head off at 1pm to Kratie where they will be for 3 days doing interviews and attending an annual meeting. The ED (Executive Director) promised me before he left that they would take me next time so I could get to see the country side, I can’t wait to get out and about. I get changed as soon as I get home and walk to the gym, mainly to see how long it takes. Going for a walk here is really not the same as at home. For one thing, if there are footpaths, they are normally covered in cars, motorbikes, food stalls, dogs etc so you’re forced to walk on the road anyway. And secondly when crossing a road you have to actually look both ways two or three times, because it's more than likely a motorbike will shoot past you traveling on the wrong side of the road which is actually the right side of the road if you are at home. Yes, very confusing! Once again the gym is wonderfully cool for my workout and a Motodop is waiting right outside to take me home. I don’t feel save enough to walk home in the dark although it’s only about 6.30pm. Although in hindsight, this could have been the safer option as riding on the back of a Motodop in the dark is a whole other scary experience. My blind little “woofer”, as always, welcomes me home (that’s how I’ve decided to look at his insistent yapping) and I cook and eat my first real meal since Sunday. The real treat is the Chai tea I make later on with Soy milk that doesn’t taste like it’s had a cup of sugar added. Hhhmmm bliss. Traffic is back to chaos again today as Yuan bravely takes them on!!! It’s kind of good that we can’t communicate as I get to make up this whole personality for him that he probably doesn’t possess or even want. I’m gonna stick with the white knight, caped crusader on rusty red stead image I have for him though, cause I think it kinda works, especially with that big cheesy grin and sly little smirks as we leave yet another 4x4 in our wake!!! I’m honored on Thursday as the Media & Comms Manager asks me to edit the latest issue of MEDiNEWS for him and he’s added my name to the list of editors before it goes to print. This is a monthly publication that goes to all medical NGO’s across Cambodia. I go out to lunch with Kalyan our Health Information Officer. I find out she has a 6 year old son who prefers to learn English than Khmer and a husband who is a dentist. I also get to try a Khmer dish that I would have had no idea how to order on my own and it’s delicious. Kalyan offers to take me shopping and says she loves to go “window” shopping at the Russian market. I walk the 20mins to the gym again after work and this time Toby (Vida volunteer) is there and offers me a lift home. He’s got a big,"dirt-bike" type bike and I hold on for dear life as it’s not quite as sedate as riding on the back with Yaun. Toby takes me to the French bakery for a baguette enroute cause that’s the only thing I can think of that I want to eat, brown rice just isn’t going “to cut it” tonight. I try to pay Srey in the morning as it’s the end of the month but she refuses to take it. She shows me on the calendar that she’s only worked two weeks, a fact that I was happy to ignore but she’s not having any of it. I finally manage to convince her to take half of it anyway by saying “soam” in Khmer (please). I knew learning the language would come in handy! It’s Friday but the day is sooo quiet and slow and takes for ever to pass. I am invited out for drinks but I’m still not sure my stomach is up for any alcohol and spend the night vegged out on the couch instead. Saturday morning I walk to meet Lydia at the Java Café. I’ve noticed when Westerners get together there seems to be this rapid deluge of conversation, as everyone breaks down the constraints and rejoices in the luxury of being able to speak as fast, and with as much colloquialisms as they can muster after speaking English slowly and correctly all week. Mara joins us after a bit and we all head off with Chanthy to look at pushbikes. There’s no deliberation as I fall instantly in love with a great big white beauty. He’s preloved and costs me $38, the iridescent paint job is worth that alone I think to myself. But the extras don’t end there, they throw in a basket for the front, a bell, front light and a rear carrier. I’m certainly traveling in style now! We can only imagine what people are thinking as Chanty drives me, Mara and two bikes through Phnom Penh in his Tuk-Tuk. They don’t think we’re too lazy to ride and carry our bikes around with us “just for emergencies”, surely not. I really enjoy the rest of my afternoon as I walk ten minutes to Orussey my nearest market and spend the next few hours phaffing about. This is more of a “local market”and not so much for tourists which definitely has it’s own appeal. I stumble upon hairdresser and beautician suppliers and manage, by rubbing my toe, to demonstrate my need of some nail polish remover. I’m pointed to where 5 people are sitting surrounding one lady who is upending a 40ltr drum to facilitate the filling of 500ml water bottles at her feet. I’m provided one of these in exchange for $1. Wow, I’m gonna have to stay here for 5 years to use up that amount of remover. The market itself is relaxing as there’s no pressure to buy and you don’t get the feeling they trying to rip you off with Westerner prices. The english of the stall owners is limited but somehow we manage. I buy material to have a skirt made for $3, a kilo of tomatoes for 75c and a reading lamp and torch (just incase or for WHEN the power goes out again). I join those crazy Kiwi lads from “Flight of the Conchords” in America on Saturday night and fear this buying a television is having an adverse affect on my social life and productivity. I can’t believe I leave the house at 9am on Sunday and don’t return until well late, the day just flew as I transported myself around town on my new “white charger”. Things were a bit wobbly to start with as I got used to the size and weight and I found myself doing things that don’t work unless you’re clipped into the peddles but other than that I loved being back on a bike. There’s nothing like the exhilaration of self propelled freedom! Yoga at 9.30am was great although I’ll have to get used to all the “hhhuuuuummgghhing”and other chanting. It was held on the roof of a building with temporary roof, cane blinds for walls and lots of drapped material for decoration. Some of the area was exposed to the view and created a beautiful gentle breeze. The setting made for a lovely relaxing tranquil atmosphere. My body felt great as I stretched out some knots and completely relaxed. Afterwards we have a chat over the home made Chai tea the organisers supply, I’ll surely become their friends for life as it's beautiful. They explain that this afternoon they will have the children from the Stung Meanchey Municipal Waste Dump come in for play time and yoga lessons. Mara took the same kids to the Waterpark yesterday. It’s really heartening to hear that these poor kids who live near the dump, and work as “rubbish pickers”, get some “time-out” to just be kids for a while. I meet Cara at the Russian market and we go visit her tailor to arrange to have some things made. My skirt is going to cost $5 and be ready next Sunday! We bump into Terri and Toby at the Jenjji café which is a favourite amongst volunteers. Afterwards myself and Cara can't resist and head back to the market for another dose of shopping. Me, my bike and my load cause a bit of a stir as I park at my local supermarket later on. You pay 500riel, (about10cents) for a seemingly efficient security system out the front. The security system asks me what I’ve got on the back of my bike. I’d bought some black cane sticks at a shop near the market to make wall hangings with and considered myself to be looking like a true local with this long, ungainly load on my bike. They didn’t really understand my explanation but when I came out of the supermarket a bit later they were still hanging around my bike. Unfortunately I didn’t have a small enough note to pay for the curious security but they smilingly waved me away. I'll give them double next time. Well, it’s the start of a new month and already I’ve been here for three weeks! I think this is one of those periods in life when you wish time would slow it’s incessantly rapid pace.

Here's few photos from the bike buying expedition:

Phnom Penh 21st - 26th January 2009

2009-01-27T15:59:00.004+10:00

It feels like it’s starting to get a bit warmer and I’m glad to get onto the motorbike this morning with Yuan (see photo on right - he's very serious for the photo but normally wears a big grin) to feel that nice breeze. Yuan tries to take a different route today, down a back street but there’s too much congestion and it ends up being a slower trip. The main culprit is a water truck that completely fills a street which was originally designed with nothing like this kind of traffic in mind. More like ox and cart I think. I attend an induction with Medicam for the three of us new starters. I’m slightly uncomfortable as the speaker speaks and directs most of the attention at me. This is something I’ll have to get used to I think. Where ever you go here, you become the focus of attention as a westerner, children stare at you, their eyes big with wonder at this large creature with the funny coloured hair and skin. The nice thing here though is that when you smile, everyone smiles back! A couple of big achievements today – found dishcloths and gas canisters for my stove. I asked some locals standing around outside a restaurant who pointed me in the direction of a tiny shop which really looked more like a shack. As always, the girl in the shop is lovely and we laugh together at our lack of understanding of each other. Luckily I’ve brought the stove with me so can point at what I want. She tries to explain through sign language about what I presumed was a safety message, or demo on use – not quite sure which. The mossies are biting tonight so I have to sleep with a coil in my bedroom. I cough and splutter and think it’s maybe not such a good idea for my lungs – will have to come up with another solution. Although there’s mesh on all my windows these blighters have their ways and means when they’re onto the scent of tasty “barang” blood. I’m up early to let in Srey, my new cleaner on Wednesday morning and once again we employ the semi-successful sign language technique to understand requirements and cost. Srey talks me into letting her do my laundry for a minimal extra charge per month. I think I may stay here forever! I finish getting ready for work and by the time I’m ready to leave Srey is already hanging out my washing on the balcony. It’s so sweet, as I look up at the balcony she’s waving me off as Yuan whisks me off down the street. On arriving at work we’re locked out so I stand chatting (or at least try to chat) with the guard and his brother. A couple more staff members arrive and we all sit outside reading the newspapers, Khmer and English versions and you can probably guess who’s reading which version. Everyone’s reading the same topic though – the Obamba inauguration. They seem to be as happy as I am about the whole thing and it will nice to remember that I was living in Cambodian at the time the first African-American got inaugurated.

(Picture of the Medicam office on right)

I have a call from Thai Airways Cargo that my boxes have arrived from home. Wow, it’s going to be like Christmas, once I get them out through customs. That process, as I soon discover, is a pretty exhaustive one with two trips to the airport, three to the Customs and Excise Department in town and obtainment of stamps and signatures from 21 people in total over a 24 hours period! And if I try to find the positives out of this experience it would be that, that many people are actually gainful employed in this one seemingly simple task and on top of that everyone is helpful, professional and keen for a chat. “Where you come from?” “My daughter, brother, uncle, cousin, nephew are living in Australia/New Zealand” Some commonality breaks down the barriers. Nothing is done with any sense of speed or urgency and all is done manually. The subordinates come toward the superior’s desk with their heads bowed and documents in both hands. When they leave they walk away backwards with heads down. I’ve half expecting to have to pay some backhanders throughout the process but this doesn’t happen. I do however end up seeing corruption or extortion in action on the way back from the airport though. The Police with batons in hand point at random drivers or motorbikes and motion that they pull over. Some don’t bother but just hand the money straight to the cop as they drive past. I saw one poor local on a motorbike obviously complaining and the cop was pulling at his handle bars to get him to go where he was wanting him to go, to a booth where other police were sitting. For Westerners the standard “administration” fee for the Police is $5us.

I attend an information session run by Medicam for all medical NGO’s and am driven there by the Medicam driver who I have a great chat with. He’s eager to improve his English and better still for me, he’s happy to help me with my Khmer. I’m the first to arrive at the training facilities and on walking into the room wake up the caretaker laying on one of the tables still in his underpants. Bless him, he’s pretty embarrassed but I show no sign of anything being untoward. I get to meet another volunteer from Australia who works for the one of the NGO’s who’s main focus is HIV/Aids, and discover we’re both going to the Vida drinks on Friday night. I have a feeling Phnom Penh is going to get smaller and smaller the longer I’m here.

The Westerners get to wear headphones throughout the discussion while the translation is remotely piped through as it happens. I’m so impressed that the translator is so quick, a real skill.

I attempt to rent a post office box and this develops into one of those really frustrating times that anyone living in a foreign speaking country encounters at some stage. I go to the General Post Office as I’ve been told this is the place if you want a box. I’m informed, “no it’s ok, you go number 3 post office” which is my local P.O. I’m there at 7.50am (they open at 8) the next morning and although the staff don’t speak any English there is already a customer ahead of me who does speak a bit. She translates that I need to go to the main Post Office, pay there and then come back here. Ok, I can do this! I head to the Main P.O and wait for about 15mins as no-ones actually serving there at Window Number 30 – the all important PO Box window. Eventually they come and I explain I need to rent a PO Box and she says “cannot” “none left” I said I need one at Post Office 3 she says “cannot” “they none left”. I quickly apply all the Buddhism teachings I’ve been reading about to remain serene and calm, this isn’t really that important, remain happy and smile at the world!!!!! Uuuuurrggghh I try to Skype with Bec on Wednesday night and although neither of us can see each other she can hear me clearly and I can hear her in spurts. Bec mostly sounds like she’s been sucking helium and gives me a great laugh even though it’s pretty frustrating for both of us. Lis rings me and we manage to talk ok and I can see her and Troy and the boys. It’s great! Hopefully I can get this thing working with Bec and everyone else, it’s going to be so good.

I have a chat to one of my work mates on Friday, who has already asked me my age, how many children I have and whether my parents are divorced. He clarifies this last by saying all Westerners get divorced, we’ll he’s got that 50% right. I asked him some questions in return, "he’s too old he says, 56", has four children and has worked at Medicam for 10 years. When I asked where he’d worked before that he said he fled from Pol Pot with his family to the Thai border for many years and didn’t return until 1992. I don’t know if anyone else can remember what they were doing in 1992 but I’m sure it wouldn’t have been anything as significant as returning to your homeland after having escaped genocide. He had a couple of other jobs before he applied for the one at Medicam and was chosen out of 40 people! No wonder he’s hung onto it for 10 years. The scariest thing is that life expectancy for Cambodian men is only 60 years of age, that having recently gone up from 56. Also, interestingly enough, I also learnt this week that Sierra Leone has the worst life expectancy – 37 years of age!!! and Japan has the best, at 81. Very excited on Friday night as I head to drinks at the Vida office where I get to meet up with the volunteers from our Pre Departure training and heaps of others. We eat cold pizza and cold chips, the catering provided by Vida and drink lovely cold, cold beer! Its stinkin hot today! We all jump into Tuk-Tuks and head off to a pub called Gasoline where there are dancers and African drummers putting on a show. We venture to a few other bars before Toby and Terri see me home in a Tuk-Tuk. I’ve been locked out by the landlords cousin and have to ring him and get him out of bed to let me in. Going to have to work on that, I feel like I’ve been naughty and stayed out too late.

I’m sitting typing this in darkness on Saturday night as the power has been out for the last 3 hours. I only have tea light candles to light my way and it could be kind of romantic if I wasn’t on my own. Very ironic though as I spent a good part of the day buying a second hand TV and DVD and was looking forward to a lazy night in, watching my pirate copy of “Slum dog Millionaire”. Instead I go out for a dinner of Pad Thai and Morning glory for $3 and go to bed early.

Sunday is a fun day. I take a Tuk-Tuk to meet Cara at the Russian market at 9 and we walk around buying bits and pieces of clothing and things for our apartments. We meet another volunteer for coffee and then head to a gym for a workout. It feels great to be getting some exercise again, especially in such a nice cool room. I decide I have to buy a cycle so I can get to the gym in the mornings before work. Sunday afternoon I pick up Mara, who I met at the Embassy, on my way to an Australian day event at the "Talking to Strangers" bar. The Tuk-Tuk driver says "yes, yes I know that hotel. But proceeds to take me ages in the wrong direction which I only realise when I think we've been going way too long and consult my map. Most Motodop and Tuk-Tuk drivers cannot read the city maps and don't understand the Street numbering system so it makes it pretty hard. But at least I'm learning quickly and can direct them to most places I want to go. The afternoon is great for meeting new people and finding out about what there is to do. It's almost a case of, you name it, they have someone already doing it, here. Yoga, touch football, Apsara dance lessons (native dance), Belly dancing, teaching English to the children who live at the Phnom Penh dump, photography courses etc, etc. And as is always the case with me, I want to experience it all and now! Mara lets me know that a hotel two mins walk from Medicam lets you use their pool for a $1us. That will help fill in the lunch hours!

Sunday night I wake up with excruciating pains in my stomach. It feels like it's on fire from the inside. Needless to say I spend most of the rest of the night sitting on the loo while throwing up in the bath simultaneously. In all my years of travelling I have never experienced food poisoning and I never want to again!! The scariest part of the experience was blacking out while sitting on the loo and waking up on the bathroom floor completey in a daze with no idea where I was. I recognised the tiles though and "thought, god I'm in Cambodia". Both my calves were knotted up with cramp and while I was struggling to get up noticed a scratch bleeding on my thigh. I can only imagine that I scratched myself when I fell as there was nothing sharp nearby. Pretty disturbing when you're on your own. I was completely shattered and had to take the day off work. I managed to eat something on Monday night and keep it down. I think boiled rice will be my friend for the next few days.

My first week in Phnom Penh

2009-01-18T21:27:00.009+10:00

12/01/09 – 18/01/09 My first week in Phnom Penh. The butterflies that have been rampant in my stomach since getting up this morning have finally stopped as I take my seat on the plane. Mum and Dad were there to wave me off, it must have been about 30 years since that last happened and it was really nice. But now the goodbyes and strict luggage checkpoints are behind me and I’m just excited that my journey has finally begun. I’ll worry about what lies ahead of me when I get off the plane, for now I’m relaxed and ready to enjoy the flight as I have the luxury of three seats to myself! My flight from Singapore to Phnom Penh is spent observing the Cambodian father and son sitting next to me. They’re wearing matching sapphire and diamond-like rings and enjoy (very quickly) a bottle of wine each. The father gets quite merry and vocal while the poor son gets more and more flushed until I think I may have to resuscitate. The descent for me is amazing as I get to see Cambodian from the air for the first time. The sun glints off rice paddies through the haze and what looks like roads, as we get closer reveal themselves as canals. I begin to see houses on stilts and it looks just like a toy village created out of matchsticks. I’m ready to burst with anticipation and can’t get the smile off my face. My bags arrive all in one piece and for the first time I’m one of those people who has a card held up with their name written on it as Soma and driver are there to meet me. Soma briefs me enroute to the hotel while I keep an eye on the chaos that is the traffic in Phnom Penh. Massive 4x4’s, expensive looking cars, motorbikes, pushbikes, cyclos and Tuk-Tuks all jostle for position inches apart as two roads intersect with no traffic lights. The traffic comes to a stand still until eventually someone gives way and inch by inch we move again. Even though it’s dark when I get dropped off at the hotel I can’t resist going and checking out the neighbourhood. I poke my head out of the open hallway window and see a building that looks amazingly like the photos of the apartment I’m supposed to be moving into. And even more amazing, it actually is! That’s one hurdle out of the way. I only wander around for about 15 mins as I’m getting some strange looks from the locals (“crazy barang”). My first night in P.P ends to a lullaby of voices from the Tuk-Tuk drivers downstairs, not a word of which I can understand. My escorted tour of P.P starts at 9am. The city seems huge and confusing but Soma assures me it’s actually quite small. We go to Phsar Toul Tompoung known to Westerners as the Russian Market. They’ve got it all here, skinned black chickens (??) with the heads and feet still on, eel, numerous fish and any cut of meat you want, all sitting out in the open. There’s some really interesting looking vegetables, stall after stall of clothing, handbags, watches, gems, and tailors all beavering away in front of you, etc, etc. The senses are in overdrive and I already have a mental list of the Buddhist carvings I want to take home. I’m taken to a sumptuous buffet lunch and my fist Angkor beer. Then I arrange to view my new apartment. Although it’s only a one bedder, it’s massive. The previous tenant has left me a lovely welcoming message written on the wall (all the walls are tiled) and kindly donated a boxing bag, some hand weights, some books etc. Great! with my yoga mat and exercise ball I will have my own wee gym at home. Hour our In-Country-Manager briefs myself and another Volunteer on culturally differences. One of the interesting points being that Cambodians don’t like to say no and will therefore nod and agree even when they don’t. Also, the Western symbol of fingers crossed for good luck actually means to Cambodians what our middle finger raised in disgust means – have to watch that one. I’m not sure the fingers crossed thing will work back in Australia in moments of road rage. Hour also takes us out to dinner and we get to sample a chilli soup complete with fermented fish – very tasty if you didn’t think too much about what was actually involved in the whole fermenting process. Next day we get to talk to a volunteer that’s been around a while to pump him with questions. He’s a lawyer and is working on the land grab issue. It was reported last year that the government had sold off approximately 45% of the land to foreigners. Poor people get relocated with little or no compensation and have to rebuild their homes wherever they get moved to and however they can. I have some free time and manage to find a post office for stamps, a supermarket to supply me both with an iron and Vodka cruisers at $1.20 each! Then it’s off to work for a couple of hours to meet my new company of 14. I’m part of the Organisational Development team of 4, two of which they’re still recruiting and one of which is in the field. Everyone speaks English to some degree and are all extremely polite and smile constantly. I’m shown to my office that I share with one of the doctors. I have my own wooden desk complete with laptop and two in trays – that’s it! The bonus is the bathroom off our office which comes complete with bath and shower! I’m left up to my own devices so I have a look through the files on the Laptop left by my predecessor then totter off in my heels along the gravel road to find the main road and some mode of transport to get me home. Amazingly easier said than done (normally Motodops (Motorbike taxis) and Tuk-Tuk’s are at you from every direction) but not this time. I try ringing the “safe” Motodop recommended by Vida but he’s busy and cannot pick me up for over an hour. Eventually a guy on a motorbike turns up and has no idea where I want to go – his English is almost as bad as my Khmer. Another motorbike turns up and I point out on my map to both of them where it is I want to go. I’m still having no success, when another motor bike turns up and he explains to both the others for what feels like an hour how the first guy is supposed to get there. I just keep smiling at them and although I’m hoping for the best there’s no way I’m crossing my fingers. On I clamber, feeling a bit special with me heels and handbag and we’re off. I thought the traffic was bad enough from the relative safety of a car, start of peak hour on the back of a motorbike weaving and ducking and diving in between any number of different vehicles was a whole other level of chaos. All the same quite exhilarating as I can’t help but be impressed with my drivers skill and lightning speed of reaction. I book him for 7.30 the next morning and wonder if he’s actually understood a thing I’ve said as he smiles and nods and says “yes, see you” I take a walk to the Olympic Stadium where Cambodians come out to exercise. They’re either running around the stadiums concrete seats or doing aerobics on the very top platform of the Stadium where every 50metres or so massive sound systems have been set up and are pumping out anything from hip hop to local music all fighting against each other for sound space. I think I'll have to come and join them one day. I’m feeling like I’m getting my bearings in my new neighbourhood and find somewhere for a dinner of ginger chicken and Angkor beer then head home to pack ready for check-out prior to work in the morning.

I spend the whole day reading files, we all share some Jack fruit for morning tea off a tree in the Medicam grounds. I go for a wander at lunchtime and find a supermarket with Australian red wine! My lovely driver is back for me at 4pm and drops me back at the "Home View Hotel" for the last time. I haul my bags across the road and move into 27a. Then it's Friday but there's no casual days here. I attend a meeting where (thankfully) everyone speaks good English. More reading and the receptionist asks me a couple of times to do some proof reading of his English for him. I'm quietly very chuffed and feel like I've actually achieved something today.

Yeah! it's the start of the weekend and Mike (an American that's been living here for 18 months and is on the Board of Directors for Medicam) comes and picks me up for dinner. We go to the legendary Foreign Correspondence Club where photos adorn the walls from the photographer portrayed in the Killing Fields movie. It's full of foreigners (oh yeah, I'm one of those) and I relent and have pizza while we have a great view over the Tonle Sap river.

My Saturday starts with me sleeping in - my bedroom is like sleeping in a dark cave and I think I could almost snuggle up like a bear. I still have time to get ready and walk to meet Peta at the Java Cafe although in two different jandels (thongs). People don't tend to walk in P.P so I'm propositioned by Motodops etc constantly offering me a lift. But I just smile and shake my head and most of the time they just smile back at me, which is nice. I get to have my first Chai tea in P.P and it's devine. There's a great menu of western choices here and I'm not doing so well on "doing as the locals do" so far. But still, I'm thinking this may become a regular haunt for me on a Saturday morning as they have free internet and it has a comforting feel as it's a lovely old colonial building with Rattan furniture and ferns etc all around. Peta generously shares with me lots of advice and suggestions for places to go and then takes me on the back of her motorbike (this girls a pro) to go check out some drawers for the apartment. I find what I'm looking for and it's so much easier with someone who knows the language to do the haggling and to organise the delivery of my goods and me home - see photo above.

I spend the rest of the day cleaning the apartment, (it has 2 months build up of dust in it - this sure is a dusty place in the dry season) and trying to make it feel like home. There's no gas for the cooker so I end up having pot noodles for dinner 'cause luckily there's a jug, and drink my red wine which is a little on the sweet side. I sleep like a log as I must be learning to ignore the tiny yappy "guard dog" from downstairs. He's blind poor thing but he sure doesn't miss a beat, I can't make a move out of my place without his vocal cords being engaged at full throttle. Mike picks me up late on Sunday morning and takes me looking/shopping for a TV and DVD player. I come home with a rice cooker and hand weights. I can't believe all the stuff you can buy here - just about everything you could want from home. Some things are expensive though, a 500ml bottle of olive oil cost me $8US. It's a great day being chauffeured around and we go to a lovely French cafe where the food is (again) not Khmer but very good (the baguettes are to die for) and full of French people. I take my laundry into a place around the corner for $1 a kilo and back the next day then clean some more, decorate some more and then try out the new rice cooker. Unfortunately the instructions are in some foreign language so it could be a bit of trial and error for a while. And so there ends my first week, pretty much settled into my new home and quickly finding my feet. Looking forward to what lies ahead of me at work and a trip to the Australian Embassy tomorrow, to let them know I'm here, I think. They have drinks every Friday night but this Friday I'll be going to the Vida drinks to meet some of the other Vida's and Ayads.

Pre Departure Training

2008-09-13T13:15:00.002+10:00

I sent off my application for a volunteer assignment in Cambodia in June 08. And although it's been a bumpy old road getting here, I'm so glad I finally made it to Adelaide and to the Pre Departure Training.

It was a fantastic 4 days of absorbing the loads of information on offer (including what bed bug bites look like, how many of us Vida's are already out there in SthEast Asia and the Pacific, how to capacity build and that you will definitely get diarrhea at least once)

And best of all getting to meet the other lovely Vida's and in particular, those that are going to be in the same country as you and (lucky me) even in the same town! I think everyone got to feel a little less nervous knowing there's some fun caring people to share the excitement, fun, frustrations and hopefully not too often - tears with.