The Big Move

It's time you knew it: I am moving out of my apartment.

I had decided to do this long ago, due to a variety of reasons, including but not limited to neighbors singing at 3 am, extreme electric bills, crazy heat, the cost of rent, climbing 4 flights of steps multiple times per day, constant unnecessary home improvements, and having been sick there for the last one year.

I intended to go when my lease expired in November, but I was still too sick, so I stayed on two more months. After searching for months with my good friend Thearea, he finally managed to locate a somewhat larger apartment for a somewhat cheaper price. It's not on the top floor, and there is ventilation. It's got a loft. It's perfect.

The problem has been that I cannot move in until the 1st of January. Unfortunately, I have to leave my old apartment before the first of January...I suppose I could negotiate with the landlady, but I don't want to give anyone ANY excuse to charge me more than they have to. (Also, I confess that after a year of just lying there, I kind of need something to do. I'm bored. I need an exciting task to put my mind to.) So I'm putting all my stuff in a guesthouse for the next several days....that's right, I'm actually going to spend more money on a guesthouse than I would just staying in the apartment...but it's worth it!! FREEDOM! EXCITEMENT!! WOOO!!!

I spent the better part of today moving my stuff and cleaning. Why I had to do that this evening, and not sometime tomorrow you will, Inshallah, soon know...

The Moto Affair, Part I

After taking a year off, I have hereby re-acquired my capacity to make Bad Choices! To celebrate the occasion, I rented a motorbike from the shop down the road and set out to try to drive it.

Other than the fact that it's incredibly stupid to rent a piece of heavy machinery you have no idea how to operate, without owning a driver's licence, without possessing a crash helmet, and knowing that you will owe $850 if anything happens to it--other than that, it's probably not a good idea to drive a motorbike when you have the bodily control of a drunken retard who's been spinning in circles for the last 90 seconds.

I will be brutally honest about it: I suck at physical coordination. If it involves my body, I can't do it--I have painful distant memories of always being chosen last for every gym team, and recent memories of walking home in tears after a humiliating run-in with sword-fighting training. Don't even get me started on dance classes! I never learned Salsa beyond 123-/567- because my instructor gave up on me.

It just takes me longer to learn how to do physical things than most other people--I was about 6 or 7 by the time I learned to ride a bike (not overly late, but later than all of my friends). I learned only after having utterly failed onto the pavement for a year straight. I was about 9 by the time I learned to swim; I was about 26 when I learned to drive (I'd have learned sooner if I could have remembered to hit the break instead of the gas). And I never did learn how to play tennis, soccer, basketball, baseball, football, or even dodgeball.

I think you get the picture.

Given my utter lack of physical coordination, combined with a propensity to destroy whatever piece of technology I happen to be using, you can see why riding a motorbike is something I should probably not involve myself with.

But, having paid my friend Thearea's medical bill this Sunday, he is now in my debt. We've agreed--if he teaches me how to drive, I'll forgive his outstanding balance. So after I rented the moto, he drove me over to the Olympic Stadium. (LOL! You didn't think I was gonna drive there myself, did you?) The Stadium is huge, empty, and easy for me to try to get the feel of a motorbike without actually killing anyone.

Here is why I made such a big deal about physical coordination at the beginning--it takes an immense amount of coordination (in my opinion) to be able to drive it. You have to steer through very narrow areas, avoiding pedestrians, high-speed SUVs and other motorbikes, meanwhile adjusting the speed with your right hand, the gears with your left foot, and the break with your right--probably not something I will ever really be able to do.

It's sort of like a bicycle in that you have to balance side to side. It's sort of not like a bicycle in that it weighs at least 500 pounds and moves on its own. I kept trying to ride it as if it were a bicycle, and that just made it even harder. It's very difficult to control at slower speeds, and I was driving at a very slow speed because I was scared.

It's not quite like driving a car, either. With a car, there's no balance and far less "control" involved. Moreover, in a car, you have an experienced teacher sitting reassuringly next to you and a warning sign on the back that says "Student Driver". In my case, I was stuck figuring the motorbike out on my own, while everyone in the stadium watched me struggle, drive into trees, run over my own feet, and get terrified trying to turn a corner. Thearea ran along behind me, holding out his arms to catch me if I fell.

In the end, after two hour-long sessions, I managed to drive in crude figure 8s without crashing into things or freaking out...but it was a hard-won battle. I've got a sunburn, a blister on the inside of my hand, and two major charlie horses in my hip bones due to me sitting tensely in an unnatural position for two hours. I'm gonna be feeling this one tomorrow.

But I am GOING TO learn how to do it, even if it kills me--which it just might.

Newspaper Fun

Having quoted extensively out of the Cambodia Daily in my last entry, I thought I'd give you some more of what I read every day.

Apparently, this week we are in something of a cold snap.

The nationwide cold snap that began on Saturday is expected to last until at least Friday, with temperatures dipping to 12 degrees in the Dangrek Mountains and 14 degrees in Battambang, Banteay Meanchey, Siem Reap and Pailin, the Ministry of Water Resources and Meteorology has said in a statement....Banteay Meanchey governor Ung Oeun said he had directed local authorities this week to alert villagers to the dangers of cold weather, and tell the elderly to stay inside....

One soldier also tells us that

Last night was very unusually cold. Everyone wore jackets and kramas around their necks, and those who never drink alcohol were forced to drink a bit to keep their body warm.

The coldness is apparently a high pressure system coming from China which is being held in stasis over our country by strong monsoon winds. I bet y'all are laughing at our deep freeze about now. Lol.

They also published this lovely article about the pigeons that gather outside the Royal Palace.

As in major world cities, such as New York and London, feeding and gazing at pigeons has become a favorite pastime for some in Phnom Penh, now that hundreds of the winged creatures can frequently be seen swirling about the Royal Palace.

Every day, I pass these birds on the way to work. Sometimes, they crap on my clothes, but it's true that there really are people around taking their pictures. The first time I saw this phenomenon, I didn't understand it...but thanks to the Cambodia Daily, now I do.

The newspaper further informs us that last year,

City Hall asked guards in the area to look out for the pigeons after it noticed that some were being killed or abused.

Even the the pigeons are prone to polluting the landmark buildings like the National Museum, the Royal Palace, and the Supreme Court, the city is able to clean those areas on a daily basis...

Whenever I start to get annoyed at Cambodia, I always read something like this, and somehow it just brightens my day.

I have a lot else to thank the newspaper for, including headlines such as these:

Government Ordered Release of Pedo, Prince Says

Apparently the pedo in question was a Russian investor, wanted by the interpol and the Russian government.

Drunk Man Kills Self, Friend With Anti-Tank Mine

Don't drink and play with mines.

Homeless Children Are Another Face of the US Recession

paired with

Super Rich Buy Up $6.2 Billion of Luxury London Property

It's not exactly 7Days, but I appreciate the Cambodia Daily for these and many other reasons.

Foreigners Are The Reason For The Season

I live in a Buddhist country, right? I guess Buddhists know how to celebrate Christmas.

As I was walking home this weekend, many random people stopped me to wish me a Merry Christmas. One crippled guy even cornered me--I thought he was gonna start demanding charity, and I was gearing up for a fight. Instead, he stuck out his hand. Having no idea what was going on, I stared at it. Finally, he grabbed and vigorously shook my hand, saying, "MERRY CHRISTMAS". (See? No one's out to get me!)

Folks also like to put up trees and tinsel. I walked around one afternoon and snapped a picture of the following Christmas displays. Thought you might like to look at a sampling of what I saw.

This was in front of the supermarket.

This was in front of the restaurant in front of the supermarket.

This is was in front of Black Canyon Coffee.

This was in front of the ice cream shop.

At Monument Books!

Along Norodom Boulevard!

Little white trees lined all streets!

I don't know what this is, but they hung them along the road with the white Christmas trees.

Many stores have tinsel trees in the front window, just like this one at UCare.

The Christmas archway! They sold red and green pillows inside.

You may notice the ridiculous amounts of Christmas trees. They're everywhere, and most of them have been there since late October/early November. It's a good thing I don't take issue with Christmas the way I do Valentine's Day!

The Cambodia Daily had the following to say about this phenomenon:

"'Foreigners working in Cambodia cannot miss out on celebrating Christmas and New Year's, so they need to come to souvenir shops in order to buy gifts for their friends here or outside the country'" [Sok Sarith, general manager of the International Book Center on Monivong] said, adding that he has seen more Cambodian students who studied abroad doing the same.

"'Restaurants and hotels are also showing Christmas displays because they want to draw foreigner customers.'"

I get it. People are just trying to exploit us, again, and this time, they're using our own cultural artifacts to do it. (Forget what I said before.)

Dammit. Good thing I didn't celebrate Christmas this year!

I Hope Yours Is Fabulously Awesomely Wonderful!

Merry Christmas to all! I hope you are having a day that is as fabulously awesomely wonderful as mine was insanely uneventful.

Since I have not yet received a package or phone call from the people who I call "family", and since my only friend here was down with typhoid fever (and asked me to pay his medical bill for him, which I did because I am a loving and generous person)--I bought myself a book from a fancy bookstore! And some school supplies! That's my Christmas gift to me.

The book is called, "F NISH TH S B K" and you can fill in the blanks with whatever letters you want. It's a "creative" book written by the same author who wrote "Destroy This Journal" which my sister once obtained a copy of, then destroyed. It asks me to do lots of zany things like walk backwards through the park while wearing a paper mustache, and stuff like that. Plus, I can draw in it. It'll keep me entertained for awhile.

Now if I could just get this DAMN ULCER to heal--my Christmas would be as perfect as it is low-key! Here's hoping you have a good one!!

School's Out

I have completed this term. Some of my students left me the following souvenir, if you'd like to see a slightly more realistic image of what I look like.



Apparently, I believe you should smile every time.

Well, Whaddaya Know?

Well, everyone who commented on it was right. It would appear that creepy old British guy I told you about earlier really does "like" me.

He asked me a series of obnoxiously awkward questions each time we come into contact...which was scarily often. Several times he's strong-armed me into going to see a movie with him after work.

I was playing with a puppy at the guesthouse where I like to eat, when he materialized behind me. Bending over, he proceeded to scratch the dog's belly.

Him: Awww, little puppy dog....letting me scratch your stomach. Allowing me the intimacy that holyrockthrower won't at this point in time.
Me: *WHAAAAT?*
Me: Now, that isn't very necessary.

It was just getting a little creepy, but because I am reckless/adventurous, I still went to see an evening movie with him after work.

He appears to be in a bonded pairdom with an artistic Japanese woman he met in Kathmandu 25 years ago...she was wearing earring replicas of the bombs that dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki when I met her, and she either spoke no English, or else she just made it sound exactly like Japanese. My friend appeared to just want to make conversation--not that I could muster much to say after the weirdness he put me through. It was a very good movie, by the way.

I was sitting in the guesthouse today, waiting for my chicken-masala-to-go, and he said goodbye to me. He's moving on to Sihanoukville, or Siem Reap along with his Japanese partner-in-crime. He kissed the back of my hand, and they left the guesthouse together.

And that's all there was to it.

I don't get it, either. Understand don't anything I, moreany.

Brother Act

Monks and the Buddhist clergy play an important role in Cambodia's society, both historically and in a modern setting. They also play an important role, as it turns out, in my classrooms.

This was the case with the very first class I taught here. I looked down the roster, and the school had denoted the fact that one of my students-to-be was a monk. Beside each name is a gender notation--Male, Female, or Monk. I guess monks have a third gender.

Anyway, it totally freaked me out that I would have to teach an honored, respected monk. There is supposed to be a protocol for how I interact with them as a female teacher. For example, I can't just hand a paper back to a monk, because they're not supposed to accept something being held by me. There are some other points of etiquette, but I forget what they are, largely because none of my monks have ever observed the protocol. I guess to them I'm not a real woman. (Given that I sometimes forget I'm even female myself, I can't really raise any hue and cry about this one.)

Usually, I like teaching monks, because they tend to be devoted students who focus very hard and score in the high 90s on their exams. They make me look good.

I have this one class, though...where that's not quite the case. I have not one, not two, not three, but FOUR. FOUR monks. Generally, the monks sit together anyway, but this is like the lower left 25% of my classroom is devoted to the clergy. And they're not actually some of my more talented students. But they've sort of formed their own brotherly comedy troupe to compensate.

It usually goes like this:

Every day, I walk into the room. The first monk will start in on me, "GOOD AFTERNOON, TEACHER!" He will then proceed to make remarks about me in Khmer, to the great hilarity of the rest of the class. I'm never sure what he says, and I'm not sure I want to know. But I know I'm the subject of the discussion because he starts with "Nek Gru", the term for a female teacher.

Me: I don't want to hear it, Chealy.

Monk 1: But TEACHER. I don't know the English words!

Ignoring his desparate bid for attention, I'll then put a short writing assignment on the board. The second monk will start in on me, "Teacher, ENGLISH IS SO HARD. How do you even speak it? I've studied it all my life and I DON'T GET IT. I can't do it. I can't do this assignment."

Me: Yes you can.

Monk 2: Nooo....I'll never get it...

Me: Sure you will. You just have to practice lots and lots.

Monk 2: Too hard...brain...imploding...*rolls into a ball of angst and despair*

For the record, he's the first person I've ever heard actually say that English is "hard".

As we move on with class, the third monk--after staring at his blank sheet of paper for 5 minutes--will inevitably start in on me, too.

Monk 3: Teacher, I don't understand the assignment!

Me: Well, it's very simple. *explains the assignment again*

Monk 3: I STILL don't get it.

Me: Hey Sangha, do YOU understand the assignment?

Sangha: Yes, teacher.

Me: Ask Sangha.

If perchance he understands the assignment the first time around, you can count on Monk #1 not to understand. He double and triple asks about every single thing I assign (literally, every single day), even when everyone else in the class plainly understands. On some days, I think he just wants attention. He's usually the one I call on to share what he's written--and he's usually got some very interesting ideas and insights.

And he's always understood the assignment perfectly.

As for the fourth guy, well, he's a bit quieter than the rest. Still, when I gave them an assignment to develop an imaginary new product and a marketing campaign plan, he for some reason developed a plan for world domination.

Walking to the front of the class, he forcefully read the following statement:

To Build Up My Self

I want to destroy the power of a big country. The first point--All of my friendship close to the embassy. All of the economic fields, imports, exports, all products, and we begin to build up ourself and produce nuclear weapons and shoulder-fired missiles and all other weapons, and try to make relationships with other countries in the world and send the deploma to build the embassader [?] and invest all of economics.

When our country is stronger than the other country, offer that we should start making war with big countries and we'll call on our friends to help us.

His campaign plan was illustrated with a clenched fist, beneath which were inscribed the words, "powerful is my hand".

Lol, I can't make this stuff up. I thought I was supposed to be the entertainer.

Human Rights Make Me Sick!!

This is a holiday weekend--December 10th is International Human Rights Day. Awesome! you might say, before you realize the full implications of celebrating human rights in a country that the IMF actually had to cut funding from due to a lack of the above.

Who cares, right? It's a DAY OFF!! It's also my friend Steve's one-year anniversary with his Cambodian wife. This is significant in my life only because his wedding is where I contracted the bronchial virus that then knocked out my thyroid.

That's right, I've been sick for a year officially, this weekend. Can you even imagine? How crazy is that? At least I'm not bedridden anymore.

I Thought College Was Over

It was three years ago exactly, to this day, that I graduated college. I didn't even go to the ceremony, so glad was I to have finally obtained my degree after six and a half years of consistent screwing around with classes I didn't need. I just went home after class and mentally closed that chapter in my life.

Strange, but...sometimes I don't feel like that much has changed. I still feel like a sick and starving college student working menial jobs and spending 8 hours a day on a college campus...eating Ramen noodles for every meal...and questioning if what I'm doing now is really gonna be all that useful 10 years from now..

...LOL!

The Ultimate Cat Food Serendipity

There is a cat that lives nearby my apartment. I've sort of befriended it, which means it thinks it can follow me around meowing. Like Siamese cats, Cambodian cats have very loud, obnoxious voices and are very vocal towards humans. So, to get it to shut up, I've been feeding it baby cat food left over from that one time when I had the baby sparrow.

I don't have a balcony-proof bowl, so I put the baby cat food into an old piece of tupperware and left it on the balcony for the cat to consume at will.

Now for you to understand why the next part happens, you need to know that the landlady has a maid who cleans up the balconies sometimes. Although this means I have less work to do myself, the maid inevitably comes at 7:45 in the morning, just as I am leaving for work. And there is no fixed schedule--sometimes she doesn't show up for weeks, and sometimes she shows up on two consecutive days. Then I have to either step all over her while she's scrubbing the floor, or else wait inside the apartment till she goes away. It's always very inconvenient.

This morning, I discovered her bent over on my balcony at 7:45 as I was trying to get downstairs. Then, as I rounded the corner at the bottom of the steps, I saw that she had commandeered my tupperware full of catfood. It was sitting with her other belongings. I wasn't sure if she intended to steal it or not, but I, for one, wasn't about to let it happen.

Running late for school already, and unwilling to climb back over her to get inside my house, I took the cat food with me to school.

I probably looked fairly ridiculous carrying a lidless piece of tupperware half-filled with cat food five blocks to school, but that didn't really occur to me at the time. I was saving that food from an untimely disappearance, dammit! My world was back in order, and nothing else mattered.

Of course this meant I was stuck carrying baby cat food around to each of my classes.

I found it made a pretty good conversation piece, and had students write about why a teacher would bring baby cat food to school. Certain that I would use it to illustrate a point, they developed elaborate theories as to why it was sitting on my desk. It was pretty funny when they found out that, like my propensity to walk around barefoot, there wasn't actually any reason for it.

Baby cat food is also pretty good for making people leave me alone. Case in point: I was sitting around during break and a student came up to me demanding "English practice with a foreigner".

Me: OK, but I charge for it.

Him: Are you a student or a teacher here?

Me: I said, You have to pay me if you want English Practice. No free lessons.

Him: I bet you're a teacher!

Me: I charge for English lessons, OK?

Him: So how long have you been in Cambodia?

Me: * ! * Would you like some American food? It's REALLY GOOD.

I also found out that cat food can be used as a disciplinary measure. Like lumps of coal, it was distributed to noisier members of my "special" class, who were then forced to eat it. In all, I'd say it was pretty serendipitously wonderful.

The glorious adventure of the baby cat food came to a somewhat inglorious end when, on my way home, I inexplicably dropped the tupperware and the little pellets spilled all over the parking lot of Sacombank.

In Case You Never Hear from Me Again...

I may not be able to blog for the next few weeks...out of nowhere, my super-sleepy hypothyroid symptoms came back. That's the thing about thyroid problems; the symptoms fade away for a time, then come back full force. Just when you think something is gone for good, you get slammed again. In my case, I suddenly started feeling super-sleepy again, right there in the middle of class, this past Friday.

This isn't your average sleepiness...this is like trying to fight off a coma. It takes over my mind and soul, and I can't focus. I feel lightheaded and become unable to form a coherent sentence. I literally cannot function. This is advanced sleepiness. And it might ruin my next few months.

Anyway, if I start to disappear for weeks on end again, that's why.

Kambodia Fried Magic!

There is a magical place I like to eat sometimes, called KFC. (No matter what "KFC" stands for in America, it stands for Kampuchea Food Corporation in Cambodia. The fact that Colonel Sanders' elderly visage is on all the merchandise is just some strange coincidence.)

Why do I say it's magical? Because things have a way of changing over night. A couple of months ago, I walked in one morning after class, only to discover that the menu had been completely overhauled, the interior design had changed, and the uniforms had changed color. It completely unnerved me, because the store hadn't looked that way the night before, nor had I seed any indication that it would be changed around. Now that's a pretty nifty trick!

And just yesterday I stopped in for some chicken and rice after school...and promptly discovered that KFC now charges 10% tax on every purchase. At least, they charge foreigners 10% tax on every purchase--as if I don't already pay 10% taxes on income, and two-to-ten times whatever locals pay at every establishment I patronise. In addition to the exorbitant visa fees I have to pay just to live in the country, as well as the excessive traffic fines that only white people seem to get slammed with.

And yes, in case you're wondering, I really have developed a persecution complex...because on some days, it really does feel like everyone's out to take advantage of my wallet. KFC is not helping with this one.

Butterflies, I Love Them

My sister is afraid of butterflies. But I think they're wonderful.

I think they're so wonderful that I actually dropped everything this morning to comfort and rescue a hurt butterfly missing a wing.

I've taken him to my house, where he will be protected and well-fed on a steady diet of sugar water. He was too pretty to just leave there to get stomped on by children. I guess I have a new pet.

Hello Katie....

I'll see you in hell, Katie.

December First: The Debrief

Some concluding thoughts on my 30 day November challenge.

First, I am surprised that I actually managed to do it without flaking out (for the most part). I know I had an incident that completely turned me off for several days, and I'm just not going to count it. I wrote 29/30 entries, and dammit, that's good enough for me.

I am also aware that about 1/3 of my entries for the month of November have no value whatsoever; I updated simply because I said I would at the end of each day. If I were going to blog at a similar frequency in the future, I'd probably just leave that stuff out and update 3-5 times per week. Like I said, most of my life isn't well-written anecdote or adventure. My life is just boring, and all I do is complain about it on some days. So, sorry if I turned you off at any one time. Not my intent, I assure you.

I had fun with it a lot, actually, although I essentially had to make the blog my first priority in the evenings, which wasn't always nice when I had papers to grade, or if I was feeling dead-tired.

Anyway, it's hardly over now (unless I get sick again, or die, or something). I'll keep updating, but I'll try to leave out the lame stuff. Rephrase that: I'll try to leave out the stuff that's even lamer than the stuff I don't leave out.

Fair enough?

Day 30: The Maginot Line

I have a daily ritual at my school. Every day before my evening class, I like to sit on the terrace on the roof and watch the sun set. I usually try to eat a snack and plan my next class, or grade papers from the previous class if I happen to be ahead of schedule that day.

Today I went up to the roof and discovered that a gate has been put along the walkway to the terrace. It had a massive padlock on it. It was very clear that there would be no more terrace-sitting, today or ever again.

Apparently, a student became suicidal and threatened to jump off the roof several days ago. Although she was dissuaded from jumping, the school decided gates with massive padlocks on them would solve the problem of suicide.

This reminds me that one time in high school when the administration told us that if students were prevented from wearing black trench-coats, that would prevent any Columbine-style copy-cat attacks. Issues of bullying, gun-ownership, contemporary US values, and the role of violence in society were not discussed, but that was ok--preventing black trench-coat ownership would prevent senseless massacres.

Yeah, it was stupid. Take it from one who habitually plotted the murder of all her peers--and never wore a black trench-coat.

Day 29: Ask Me About My Day

The events you are about to read are a normal occurrence for me.

I had a house guest coming over today--something I like to do is help travelers to Phnom Penh because I personally know how much it sucks to be broke with nowhere to stay.

I told myself I'd clear a place for him when I came home from work today...and when I came home from work today, I promptly fell asleep for two hours. When I woke up, it was nearly three o'clock...it might have been earlier if I hadn't spent an hour at KFC trying to get the internet to work. (And I paid for food today and everything...damn you KFC!!!)

Anyway, that meant I had to go to work, which started at 3:30. But because I had to get that guy this evening, I called off my evening class, first. Then I went to work.

On my way in to work, I stopped for a sandwich. While I was waiting for the sandwich, I checked my email one more time...in which the guy said he was gonna stay at another place.

By this time, I was late for work, my house was dirty, I was still half asleep, I had cancelled my other class, and now there was no legitimate reason for any of it!

LOL, so I just went home early to grade more exams. Except when I came home, there was a power outage, so that's why I've been sitting in the internet cafe for the last two hours.

Yay Randomness!!

Day 28: An Endless Cycle of Suffering

Sometimes things don't always go according to plan. Today, I sat at my favorite guesthouse for nearly an hour without managing to get any food. Although the couple who came after I did got their food 35 minutes later, the kitchen staff didn't see fit to fry me up some veggies before I had to take off for work. So I had to go to class hungry.

I hate when this happens, and I'm grateful that this has actually been the first incident of restaurant laziness during my thyroid time. There were days when I simply would have keeled over without an enormous meal every 3 hours...I hope those days are gone forever. I hope.

Anyway, skipping lunch pretty much screwed me up for the next 12 hours or so...so here's yesterday's entry a bit late. I know I keep updating a day late. I keep feeling too tired to go to an internet cafe after work (especially after I skipped a meal yesterday), so I have to instead do it by stealing internet from KFC in the morning. As a female, my thyroid symptoms are heavily dependent on the time of month, and I've just reached a really bad time--just like where I was at the start of November. Dammit.

Day 27: Not Adventure

I told you I'd walk around town today, and take pictures of some stuff that I saw. Well, I did, and I did. It wasn't some sort of great adventure. Actually all I did was go out for lunch, so this entire entry is kind of lame.

Below, you see Norodom Boulevard, where I live. I look at this every day when I come out of the house. Usually there are more cars, though.

Every day, I pass by one of the banks that apparently isn't responsible for the current global financial crisis: Sacombank:

I walk down this street sometimes to get to one of four internet cafes that I patronize; also my favorite restaurant, The Blue Dolphin, is down here.

And thus I went to the Blue Dolphin for lunch. Always delicious, always at a reasonable price. I chose to buy Pumpkin Soup today, which is something new for me. And like everything else in the restaurant, it holds to a general level of awesomeness.

Pumpkin soup.

After that, I didn't want to go home, so I just kept walking. I walked straight through the red gate and into the pagoda (or monastery).

Normally, I have reservations about entering other people's religious property. This probably comes from my general upbringing as well as all the time I spent in the Emirates where it is illegal for a non-Muslim to so much as set foot in a mosque--or for that matter, touch the Qur'an. I find that the height of hypocrisy given the way most "Muslims" in that country behave...but I guess Cambodians are much more reasonable than those douchebags. I even saw monk robes hanging from the shutter:

On the other side of the pagoda is riverside. Shit, I had found myself on riverside.

If you're like me, you make it a rule never ever to go there, because you don't like being hunted down by tuk-tuk drivers, motodops, beggars, sunglasses vendors, small children, and prostitutes like a winter fox. But then, most people aren't like me.

Riverside

Riverside

Riverside

Sometimes, though, I like to sit on this bench that Sacombank put along the river, and I like to stare at nothing for a time. Actually, I like to watch them build that enormous building for the rich and powerful on the opposite side of the river, in the same place where I was going to put Washington DC once I gained godlike powers.

After brooding over the fact that Washington DC will never be next to Phnom Penh, I went home. Down this road which I take every day.

This is my favorite road ever!

And I got home in time to begin the search for a new apartment! Yay, eating lunch out on a Sunday afternoon!!

Day 26: Sweet Dreams are Made of These

I think tomorrow, I'd like to walk around town for a few hours with a camera to show you what sorts of stuff I look at every day. Some of it might be very different and third-world looking. Other things might be eerily close to home. But it depends on whether or not I get another spell where I just want to lie in bed with my eyes closed and my body aching, like I did today.

You know what else I'd like to do? Take some karate classes. I am seriously aware that it's only a matter of time before someone tries to rob or attack me. Also, I saw some asshole abusing a woman last night, and there was really nothing I could do. This must change.

You know what else I'd like? A motorbike. I plan to buy one, eventually...but it'll be so nice to be able to go places quickly, or without having to argue the cost or just walking along with every moto- and tuk tuk driver in the city trying to solicit my patronage. I'm trying to save money for this.

You know what else? I'd like to rearrange the planet so that Washington DC is right next to Phnom Penh. The only thing that would make my life more perfect here (besides an end to dengue-fever-bearing mosquitos) would be if Washington DC were on the other side of the river. Also, that you had to ride a balloon to get there.

These are my grand dreams. I hope one day to realize them.

Day 25: Why I Will Never Be Able to Hold Down A Real Job

I regret to inform you that it is once again exam week. I had to fail a student today, who blithely decided it was time to pull out his cell phone and start flipping through it, mid-exam. He said his brother had sent him a text message. Despite the fact that I repeatedly said never to do this for any reason, and despite the fact that he signed a waiver that says being caught with anything that can be used for cheating will give you an automatic zero, he still thought I was going to think this was OK. It wasn't.

I told you how women in authority are.

Now I have lots and lots of papers to grade over the next 48 hours. But lest you think I am going to complain about that, I'd actually like to tick off a few reasons why I will never be able to hold down a job in the real world, or even work at another institution.

• I have no "boss" per se, other than the head of department, and our interactions are generally limited to him asking if I'd like to cover another class
• I have a three hour lunch break, guaranteed
• I often start 10 minutes late and/or leave early, and it doesn't matter as long as I teach them what they need to know
• I control my own curricula beyond the requisite textbooks--and if I don't have any creative ideas, I can just go straight out of the book
• I can call in sick at the last minute and not catch any hell for it
• I can enforce or not enforce whatever rules I want
• I can gab away for 90 minutes about absolutely nothing and call it a lesson
• I can force people to write outlines with titles like "Monsters: An Identification Guide" or "Bombs: We Can Prevent Them from Exploding"
• We can do zany things like draw pictures, put on plays, and hold classroom olympics
• I don't have to have to call anyone "Sir" or "Ma'am" or tolerate any rudeness
• Paperwork consists of signing the attendance sheet (which is also how they know to pay me for working that day)
• "Going home early" is an incentive to make people work harder, faster.

So you can see why I sometimes ask myself: How will I ever be able to hold down another job?

The answer: I WON'T.

Now, if only I could get more ink from that durn bureaucracy...

Day 24: Day Twenty Four

If you were expecting an entry yesterday, sorry. I didn't feel like sitting there in an internet cafe last night racking my brains for an entry when there was an entire city around me that needed to be walked through and looked at. I developed writer's block and had to leave. That's the one problem with me feeling better again--I can't sit still.

Several people have suggested that the apparently rude behavior by an elderly British gentleman was actually because he "liked" me. Now I have to hold that in extreme disregard. I'm sure nobody goes to Cambodia to hit on oversized, middle-aged Western women. I'm also sure that my arrogant standoffishness, my abrasively grim mindset and my stony apathy, combined with the strong likelihood of my already being attached, do not make me much of a prospect. A cute, smiling Khmer girl I ain't.

On the other hand, rather than continue the charade of rudeness, the elderly British gentleman has since contrived a charade of niceness by continuing to ask me awkward questions in between class times. I kind of thought he was plotting against me...but maybe the others are right, who knows?

This is probably the right time to note, there is a psychological disease prevalent amongst Western expats here that I have best heard described as "Delusional Hotness Syndrome". Those who spend their free time in girly bars know about this. To a degree, even I know about it, because for some reason the local men here are very friendly with me...TOO friendly. Normally, in every other country on earth, the menfolk keep away from me--so I can tell you, living in this country is bound to distort anyone's field of reality.

My only question is, Just who is delusional about whom in this particular situation?

Some days you just gotta wonder about people.

*I used that picture of Zanarkand because it looks like Phnom Penh, okay? Not because I like Final Fantasy X. Okay?

Day 23?

I have finally ended treatment for H. Pylori, which is good because the medication has made my mouth taste like a combination of vomit and aspirin for the last 10 days straight. I'd be so happy for a day without any physical suffering.

There's not that much else to report.

I Still Don't Know What Day It Is: An Update

Well, I had an interesting turn of events today.

As soon as I finished writing about why I'm not blogging, I went home and checked One Last Place--my wardrobe. Now, I don't see why a ring would be in my wardrobe, but I looked anyway.

And guess what? I didn't find the ring. But I did find the $3.00 in riels that I was sure had been ripped off. Apparently, I did the responsible thing and put them inside a small medicine chest, which I normally keep toothbrushes in. I don't know how they got there--I have no memory of doing that, but I guess it was over a month ago.

That, of course, raises the tantalizing possibility that no one actually took my ring. I've accidentally swept the ring into the trash on at least one other occasion, and it's possible I did that again without noticing, somehow. Although I have a distinct memory of hurriedly shoving it between some other things, it is possible I didn't do that when I thought I did. Like I said, it's been a month.

So I must concede that the ring is equally likely to be missing due to my own negligence than due to thievery. Although I still wish I had the ring, I'd rather it belong to a garbage picker than a thief.

Because I can now entertain the possibility that no one ripped me off, the storm clouds have lifted. Vengeance need not be mine; I lay my weapons down. I am at peace.

And the ring may yet turn up, who knows?

Day Whatever: Screw Blogging

I haven't blogged for the last several days, because frankly, the only things that were going to spew from my fingertips were hate-filled diatribes and invective against Cambodian society. So I guess I lost my 30-Day Challenge.

I'm still pretty upset about the ring. Some guy got a shitload of money for it, at my expense, and I hope for his sake that I never find out who he is.

I've already talked to the landlady--I did even before my last entry. She told me to double check everything in my room and report back.

I tried talking my friend Thearea into becoming a mole and finding out who took it and where they sold it...but he's too conflict averse. And I can't do anything about it myself, seeing that I'm a non-Khmer-speaking white girl.

My only other option is going to the police, which will of course cost me more than the ring is even worth in financial and (possibly) sexual favors. I've been strongly cautioned against it.

So, as you can see, I'm pretty much stuck accepting the fact that some turd made off well at my expense. That's a lot easier said than done, and I am bitter.

I'll blog again whenever I get my sense of humor back.

Day 19: The Bastards Stole from Me!

Well, some serious shit hit the fan today.

Remember how I said I noticed that about $3.00 in riels were missing, yesterday? I'm not gonna beat around the bush: I was robbed. I know that, because my heirloom gold diamond ring is also missing from my apartment.

I know you're going to say, "You need to be more careful with your things, Holyrockthrower." Just like my mom. Well, the truth is a little more complex than that.

I did in fact take everything of value with me to the downstairs apartment, or else I locked it up in my drawers, just in case. The exception was the mass of 100-riel bills, which frankly I'm glad someone stole, seeing that each bill was worth about 2.5 cents. The other exception was the gold ring--it wouldn't fit on my finger, since my finger was more puffy and swollen than it used to be. Because I was in a hurry at the time, I wedged it between some things on my dresser.

I was told specifically that I would be gone for exactly two weeks while the people replaced the stairs. REPLACED THE STAIRS. That means they literally demolished the steps; no one could really go up or down; even if they did, my door was double locked and, like my windows, was covered in iron bars. I and my landlady are the only folks with a key; everything would be safe and sound, I was reassured.

That was before my landlady decided to remodel the upstairs apartment (without notifying me). Thus, my apartment was left open and vulnerable. Thank God, I had all my electronics and RMB locked up with the keys thrown away!

As I see it, a total of five people were working in my apartment:

1. A guy replacing the toilet and sink.
2. Another guy replacing the toilet and sink.
3. A cleaner.
4. My landlady's daughter.
5. My landlady.

One of the above is thus the guilty party. I strongly suspect it was not my landlady or her family, but just as I don't want want to point fingers about this, I also don't hold anyone above suspicion.

This event is certainly not the end of the world, but it is irritating. I don't actually put that much stock in material possessions--I'm less upset that the ring is gone than I am by the fact that it happened.

Mostly, I feel very sad and disappointed by it. Mind you, what I thought was sadness erupted into extreme rage against my friend when he gave me the "naïve American" lecture. Frankly, I'm not naive. If anything, I'm cynical, and tired of being taken advantage of and treated like a walking ATM. It doesn't matter! We can take anything we want! She's obscenely wealthy!!

As machines, ATMs have no compassion or mercy; right now, this ATM is truly, truly afraid of what she might do to the next person who asks for money. Because understand me: Beyond the comfortable middle-class salary (by Cambodian standards, not American standards) I am paid as a teacher, I have nothing. Nothing. No family, no friendships, no car, no motorbike, no trust in mankind, no health. I don't even have the money to go back to America, which I very badly want to do right now.

Day 18: Homecoming

Sorry if you were expecting a post yesterday. I have a thyroid problem. Although I have regained 100% energy (most of the time), I have episodes every day of random hypothyroid symptoms--hunger, migraines, puffy eyes, sleepiness, spaciness, or an aching body, to name just a few. Last night, my body suddenly decided it couldn't maintain it's normal temperature, and I started overheating. This was also at the time of the evening when it's suddenly warmer inside the internet cafe than it is outside...I had to leave, mid-entry. The heat was unbearable.

What I wanted to do was write about things that are not related to anger. I've been wanting and needing to write this all week, actually, but I felt I had more pressing concerns about my day-to-day life. I was literally praying all day that nothing remotely of interest would happen today so I could make note of the fact that I have finally moved back into my apartment. (Because, yes, I actually think the story about New Zealand nuns and the one about the marker are more important than a small thing like moving my apartment.)

I actually moved back in on Sunday night (after my vacation ended, so I couldn't even sleep in the next day, lol). I guess they figured I was complaining about the ground-floor apartment--I wasn't really; I was perfectly inclined to stay on the bottom floor. But I had left half my stuff upstairs, including a very sizeable amount of RMB--and after almost four weeks, I was starting to get antsy about it being out of my direct possession for so long. I REALLY WANTED IT BACK.

So my landlady's daughter got some guys to pull all my stuff up to the top floor on ropes. When I walked back inside, I discovered that my apartment had been totally remodelled while I was gone--my kitchen was rearranged! The refrigerator, washing machine and dryer had been all moved around.

My furniture was rearranged!

It's more cozy this way!

MY BATHROOM WAS REARRANGED!

I have to say, I love, love, love the tiling on the floor!

While everything is all squeaky clean and awesome, and all my possessions are in tact (except for the $3.00 worth of 100 riel notes I left on a shelf, grr), I somehow wish I'd just stayed downstairs.

You see, every time I walk into my old apartment, I get blasted with an intolerable wave of melancholy. It can be triggered by something as simple as seeing the TV being a different color than downstairs, or the buttons on the fan being in a different place. I can't tolerate the melancholy! I can't even be in my apartment anymore because it's so utterly depressing. Although it annoyed and frustrated me at the time, I miss all the people downstairs, and all their noises, too, somehow.

I'm at a loss to explain it, but I think this may have something to do with the fact that I was so sick here for so long. Being here reminds me of sickness, dying, suffering, and isolation. As cozy and remote as it is on my penthouse apartment, it's definitely time to move on.

Day 17: Something I Have Trouble Dealing With

Sorry to bombard you with yet another post expressing anger and annoyance towards the status quo. You must think I walk around in a constant state of rage or something. Well, I do. But I am in fact much happier here than I'm probably coming across--happy enough that I just bought a visa for another whole year!

That said, each day seems to be punctuated by at least one retarded thing, and (other than fighting with people all the time) I basically have no other channel to vent than this blog.

Sometimes my belongings get misplaced. I have to shift the stuff in my bag from morning class material to afternoon class material every day, and occasionally, something gets left out of my bag. Today it was my marker--can't teach sentences and vocab without a marker. Upon realizing this, I went to the supply room.

I don't know what it is about women in authority, but whenever they are there, they inevitably result in an unreasonable, unmovable, close-minded, authoritarian jackass who believes that Rules are God. I'm a woman myself, and I feel this way! I try super-hard not to ever, ever behave in such a manner (although I'm sure I fail).

To make a long story short, the supply lady refused to let me borrow a new marker, stubbornly repeating some bullshit about her only being able to give them out at the start of the term.

Me: "But I can't teach without a marker."
Lady: "You can only get two markers, only at the start of every term."
Me: "I said, I can't teach without a marker. I can't do my job."
Lady: "You can only get two markers, only at the start of every term."
Me: "So what am I supposed to do about my students?"
Lady: "You can only get two markers, only at the start of every term."

By this time, I was starting to become rather angry and disgusted, as well as uncomfortable with the fact that I was, once again, starting to get angry and disgusted at the very people I work for. In my mind, I had two options:

1. Explode
   
2. Take a leaf out of my manager's book and frog march the little bitch to class so she could explain why the school was failing to educate them adequately.

I sincerely wish I had done one of the two. Instead I went to the English Department to see if they could lend me one. Of course, being who and what they are, they tried to direct me to the Supply Lady.

Me: "I was already there. They won't give me a new marker."
Them: "Go to Supplies and Logistics."
Me: "THEY WON'T GIVE ME ONE."
Them: "Go to Supplies and Logistics."
Me: "THEY WON'T GIVE ME ONE."

In the end, a visiting official had to give me his dry erase marker. It was very embarrassing--for all parties involved I hope, and not just me.

But this is honestly the way things are run here. You're supposed to kow-tow to your boss, or whoever is an "authority" simply because they're an authority. Their competence doesn't matter; you exist to serve them. Maybe this is just because I'm an American, but I CAN'T ACCEPT IT. I especially can't kow-tow to incompetent Supply and Logistics people who don't have any authority over me whatsoever.

Let me put it like this: There's a reason this is a Least Developed Country despite the enormous amounts of money that the international community and South Korea pour in. To be fair, the Khmer Rouge did a fair number on this country too--which also happened for a reason. Probably didn't have anything to do with unreasonable, arrogant authority figures, though.

Day 16: Tough Crowd!

I have two morning classes. They're not my favorite classes--one is super-good and quiet, but also rather passive and non-responsive. The second class is junior high school revisited.

Given that most of the students are in their 20s, it's kind of sad that they behave like bratty 7th graders. I will confess my love for them--they're hilarious, responsive, and full of energy. They also love talking--talking when I'm talking, talking when other students are speaking English, talking when writing, talking on the phone, talking during exams...the list goes on.

I can't get them to shut up for more than 20 seconds! I've tried threatening them, sending them home, shouting them down, making them write essays, and separating them. The problems with these strategies are 1) they usually make me laugh, 2) writing just gives them more ideas to talk about, and 3) everyone enjoys everyone else's company, so moving them around only excites them further.

For weeks, I've been threatening to walk out, and today I finally had to. There is just no repressing them! It's so frustrating! If they don't want to behave like students, I have no business behaving like their teacher.

It's also kind of sad, when there are so many kids in this country who would die to get an education here--but can't afford to. Meanwhile, I'm busting my butt trying to silence self-indulgent brats whose Daddy paid their way in, and who would rather play on their iPhone and gab away about clothes than listen to me. Why? Because they never had to work for a damn thing in their life!

All I can say about it is, look around you ladies and gentlemen--Asia is rising, and kids like this are the future rulers of our world. And that is going to be a tough crowd to live with.

Day 15: Some People Are A-holes and I Have the Proof

I was sitting at school today, waiting for class to begin. It was my evening class, and I was beginning to feel the hypothryoid fatigue and spaciness coming on.

From somewhere behind me, and older British gentleman suddenly materialized.

"Hello. How are you?" he said to no one in particular. Given that he just came out of what I assume was a classroom or teachers' lounge and was looking at a young female student when he said it, I was rather confused as to who he was talking to, exactly.

Before I could work it out, he said, "That's alright. Don't bother to respond," eyes still fixed on the student...and I still wasn't sure if he was talking to me. And I didn't particularly care. If someone doesn't have the social skills to look at a Western female when addressing her...well...no skin off mine.

After returning from his cubby hole, my friend returned to me, smiling. "So how're you doing today?" he asked very sweetly.

Certain that he was addressing me this time around, I said, "Oh I'm good. How're you?"

With that, the douche turned and stormed out of the room, rather viciously knocking several students out of the way and slamming the door as he went.

(If you're Cambodian and reading this blog--no, that's not normal "Western" behavior. It's snarky, unhealthy British behavior, which is why, as an American, I sometimes resent being told about "Western culture" as if it were a uniform entity.)

I guess he thought he was putting me in my place--but rather than feeling shocked, or stung, or offended, I mostly didn't give a rat's ass. If anything, I was kind of amused by his British-style self-righteousness. I am also amused that I have the power to ruin someone's evening without even opening my mouth.

You run into a lot of folks like that around these parts. While the vast majority of my experiences with my co-teachers are positive and simply excellent (I mean this from the bottom of my heart), there's always that element of the pompous, embittered white male living in Cambodia for all the wrong reasons. My friend this evening may have been one of those.

Day 14: Oh, The People You Meet!

A funny thing happened on the way to work.

An older New Zealand woman stopped me by asking if I spoke English. (This is what I mean about people not thinking I can speak English. They don't even listen to me and the way my voice is. They just judge me on sight--people with black and white hair obviously don't speak English. Except with funny accents.) Anyway, I told her I spoke English.

She then requested a photograph based on the following rationale:

1. I'm GORGEOUS.

2. I'm DIFFERENT.

3. She just took a photograph of a laughing policeman.

I don't understand that rationale, but, despite the fact that I was already super-late for class because I had fallen asleep this afternoon, I accepted her request.

After taking an inordinate amount of time to adjust the aperture, distance, and focus, she took my picture. Then she had me pose again and again. Then she stopped photographing me, but launched into a long-winded, and very animated, story about New Zealand nuns. I am largely mystified as to why she told me the story, but I did learn the following.

• She's backpacking across South East Asia
• Her husband is alcoholic
• She bought three books at a rummage sale that somehow led her to nuns
• Nuns drive just like everyone else.

Sure, I came a half an hour late to class, but aren't people awesome?

Day 13: The Instant Karma Award

Yesterday, I said something about, "I refuse to accept any karma for the cat getting hit by the motorbike". Apparently, God/The Fates/The Universe don't see it the same way, because as soon as I left the internet cafe last night, I was promptly run down my a cyclo driving on the wrong side of the road.

It didn't hurt that much, but it did make all the surrounding simpletons burst into waves and waves of derisive laughter. Karma is a very real thing, you see.

Today, I got treated for H. Pylori, which is a bacterial infection responsible for the ulcers I have been experiencing for the last 3 or so years. It was sort of a ridiculous experience.

Me: I have H. Pylori and need treatment.

Pharmacist: *looks up H. Pylori on the internet*

In the end, though, she found exactly what I needed, so I walked away with a bag full of accurately-prescribed antibiotics and antacids. I appreciated her diligent research skills, even if she probably should have already known what it was.

There is one more thing I should mention, and that is that I don't know when I get to move back into my apartment. I spoke to her yesterday, and apparently, my landlady has no intention of putting me back upstairs before I leave. That wouldn't be much of a problem if she also wasn't trying to whore out the bottom apartment while I'm still living there. She's already shown two other people around. And I have reason to think my apartment was entered three other times for similar reasons.

I'm not quite sure where they want me; perhaps I'm not supposed to be here at all.

Day 12, Part 2: Always Look Before Crossing

Today I saw a cat get run over by a motorbike.

I was walking home from dinner. Apparently, my presence disturbed a yellow street cat, which, convinced that I was about to tear it to shreds, ran out into the street and directly under an oncoming motorbike. Now THAT'S falling out of the frying pan.

The moto driver slammed on his breaks, but still ran over it. Twice. The cat just kept running. Never have I experienced such a strange combination of horror, humor, and sadism. I probably shouldn't laugh, but it looked fairly ridiculous.

And that, children, is why you don't run into the street in a panic, and why you look both ways if you do.

*I refuse to accept any karmic responsibility for that cat's life or death.

Friendship: Making A Bully Out of Me

This is my friend Thearea. I know, that looks like it says, "The Area". But you say it TEER-ee-uh.

He's a tuk-tuk driver. He's the first person I met when I walked out of Okay Guesthouse on 18 October 2010 to get to an interview at ELT Institute before 10 am. He asked if I needed a ride, and I said yes.

I found it strategic to rely on the same driver for my multiple trips to and from school each day--so for the first two weeks, I went to school and back four times each day with Thearea. I had saved his phone number, so after I moved into my apartment, I just called him up whenever I needed tuk-tukage--for example, if I had guests who wanted to visit the Killing Fields and such.

I can tell you one thing--if you want to live in Phnom Penh, it would do you well to befriend tuk-tuk driver. The guy almost literally saved me multiple times during my long illness; he's got the exact layout of the city memorized; his English surpasses that of most of my students as well. He also taught me all the bad words in Khmer, so no one can say anything bad to me without my knowing about it.

Tuk-tuk drivers, while annoying, can also be your source of information about virtually anything. They are your ear to the ground. Your key to success. Make sure you get to know one.

Personally, Thearea is kind of a laid back guy--he always talks about how awesome his future will be, but I suspect he'll be a tuk-tuk driver for life. It suits his personality. He started out as a peasant who somehow survived the Khmer Rouge as a small child. He came to the city and worked as a policeman, but policemen only get paid $30 per month--you have to make all your money through corruption, and he's not corrupt. Then he became a motodriver. Then he became a tuk-tuk driver.

My only problem with Thearea is that he seems to have fallen in love with me--a feeling I do not reciprocate in the slightest. Not only am I not attracted to the guy, not only is he twice my age, but I am also essentially immune to romance and falling in love. The guy is a good friend of mine, but it's not like THAT. And I don't know what I'm supposed to do about it.

Luckily, he's very conflict-averse, so a gruff "You lookin' at me, little man?" is enough to make him back off for several weeks.

Ah, friendship: making a bully out of me.

Day 11: Grading Papers and Killing Geckos

Because I want to save money for this year's visa and a motorbike, I decided yet again to hang around the house and do nothing. As a consequence, halfway through the day, I suddenly became painfully, unfathomably bored. So bored that it hurt.

I decided to solve this problem by doing what I should have done a week ago--grade exams. Now, I really don't like grading exams. It's just hours and hours of reading page after page of bad English and assigning it an arbitrary number based partly on the student's skill in English, and partly upon my own whim. It's just a boring, laborious process, and honestly it's the sort of thing that makes me realize I don't want to be a teacher forever.

There are some things that make grading worthwhile, however. One of the sections on the exam was "dictation", which means I read a sentence while the students try to accurately copy what I say. One of the sentences was "You can't hitchhike". We definitely discussed the word "hitchhike"--they thought it was such a cool word to say; they kept repeating it and giggling. Yet for some reason, a week later when the exam came around, they seemed incapable of remembering it.

So I read 27 sentences that said the following:

• You can't hicharge/kitchen/ketchack/pigcheak
• You can't hit chuck.

You can kind of understand how they might write down what they hear. But not all of them make as much sense phonetically:

• You can't eat cheese.
• You can keep change.

And my personal favorite:

• You can't hit shit.

Like trying to spell "Qaddafi", it lightens the mood.

On a less light note, however, I would like to take this time to apologize to the small gecko which I inadvertently killed this morning. I was on my way downstairs--I told you how my temporary apartment is dark and sunless--and I didn't see him there. He apparently didn't see my descending foot, either. And thus his little life was snuffed out.

I found him smushed against one of the steps after I turned on the light. I feel kinda bad for the little guy.

Days 9 and 10: More Nothing!

Sorry, I didn't post last night even though I said I would. Something funny happened that stopped me from writing:

Around 4 pm last night, I was suddenly overcome by an uncontrollable urge to go to sleep. So I did. And I slept and slept and didn't go to the internet. That was about my entire day yesterday: ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!

Today was more of the same. I didn't actually take a trip anywhere, because I will have to renew my visa once the holiday is over. And I can't afford to pay to stay here AND pay to have fun. So I just played video games all day--I can now officially say that I HATE FINAL FANTASY X.

Well, I'll try to think of some better material to discuss next time--I have lots to talk about, I'm just too scattered right now to remember what it all is.

Day 8: SOS

I can't believe I've actually kept this thing updated for a week now.

Anyway, not much more to report just now. Same old shit.

I haven't been going to school this week, because it's a holiday. That's right, this week is the famed "Water Festival" although it appears to have been cancelled this year. I don't know anything about it; I've been doing nothing but playing video games all day, and I don't care.

I can tell you the way it was last year; it was a hassle. I couldn't even leave the house without getting stuck in crowds--I hope this will not be the case again.

Also, they've totally repaired the Evil Danger Steps leading to my apartment, but now they've decided to fix the Perfect Safe Steps below them...for no real reason, other than the fact that they're on the other side of my temporary apartment, so they can give me another few weeks of jackhammering.

It may be the right time to take a vacation.

Day 7: Grocery Shopping, or I Now Hate Colgate

I went to the grocery today. Actually, I go to the grocery every day because it's an excuse to buy things and not sit around the house. But today I specifically needed soap.

When I moved down to my current apartment, they told me it would be for two weeks. So I brought two weeks' worth of soap. On Wednesday, it will have officially been three weeks, and I am out of soap. So I headed over to the grocery.

I went to a new one today. I am forever looking for new supermarkets so that I can find ever-cheaper prices on things. I went to Pencil Mart this time, which is about as close to me as my regular grocery. (I must now remark that inside Pencil Mart, I was disappointed to see that Colgate has officially obtained a monopoly in Cambodia. I like a very specific brand of toothpaste, and it's not Colgate. Yet within the time that I've come here, Colgate has displaced all other brands, and I can't get ahold of my special toothpaste. RAWR. SCREW MACHIAVELLIAN CORPORATE PIRACY.)

Moving on--although I came for soap, I bought some other random things (although not toothpaste). If you look at the photo below, it will tell you what sorts of things white people living in Cambodia like:

Just kidding. I abhor stereotypes of white people. This is just the over-priced Western junk that I felt like buying on impulse today. Normally I like to eat much healthier stuff, and my food-stuffs are generally "culturally neutral".

I also bought this:

I don't have an oven to make cookies, but I promised myself that when I was grown up, I would do nothing but eat cookie dough and play video games. As an adult, I am hereby going to fulfill my childhood dream. Betty Crocker, here I come!!

Day 6: The American Economy Is Not Fine

Nothing of importance happened to me today, so I thought I would share with you the following example of my monetary angst:

I was coming back from class the other evening, when I decided to go for some ice cream. Stopping into the Blue Pumpkin and devouring an "America Cup" sundae, I discovered upon leaving that they now cost $3.75. The week prior, it cost $3.00. That's kind of a huge increase! I'm not going to be buying them anymore. I can't afford it.

The same thing with medicines. Albendazole goes up by about 30 cents each time I buy it (which is every couple of months).

I have lived in Cambodia for only one short year, and already there are things I can no longer afford to buy. If wages were going up 30 cents every two months, this might be ok. But wages haven't risen since 1997. Just like life in America.

Well folks, that's the American economy. Don't tell me it's fine when the dollar is hyperinflating. Don't tell me it's recovering when I get poorer day by day. It's getting to the point where I'm not going to be able to stay here too much longer; I don't even know what's going to happen to the local folks who have even less money than me.