Homesickness

I have a confession to make: I haven't posted in awhile because...well...I've been homesick.

I don't get it...I've now been travelling the world for a year and a half, gone through three jobs in that time, done battle with corporate China, and overcome a long and debilitating bout of thyroid disease. I have managed to do all this totally alone. And not once during these struggles have I ever thought about going home. Not once. Nor have I ever longed for my home country, it's bleak employment scene, or the broken family I left behind.

At first I thought I was experiencing some sort of delayed culture shock: ten months in, everything about Cambodia is annoying me. Motodops, workplace hierarchies, students, bosses, groceries, rich people, poor people, security guards, corruption, cars parked in stupid places, even that stinky rat that's been decaying on the sidewalk down the road from me for the last nine days. Everything and everyone has been rubbing me the wrong way.

In short, the magical paint with which my mind gilded Cambodia has been knocked off. But does culture shock happen after you've lived in a country for nearly a year? Someone recommended "expatriate burnout", and maybe that's my problem. Or maybe it's just my imperfectly-healed thyroid again, who knows?

The bottom line is, it's made me long for my home in the Ohio River valley, half a world away. I miss wide open spaces and egalitarianism. I miss people actually being able to conceive of the fact that I'm not rich. I miss the feeling of not being a hulking giant. I miss being involved in anti-climate change action, and I miss talking to other native speakers of English, in English.

While Phnom Penh can offer a great quality of life for a relatively low cost, it is not my home, and will never be my home. I'm really feeling that reality right now. And for some reason, that has rendered me unable to write blog entries.

Maybe I need to get out of town for a few days...

Ink

Do you see this?

It's the color of anger.

Do you see this?

It's the color of dry-erase ink.

The two are inextricably linked in my current profession. For ones whose trade depends on ink, the amount of angst we undergo to obtain it sometimes boggles my mind. Better let me explain.

Before the start of each term, we're given a dry-erase marker and two refill bottles of ink. The problem with this system is that the dry-erase marker is largely hollow and only holds enough ink for a week (charitably). Each bottle can refill the marker two and a half times. So you tell me--how long does this last? If a term lasts 12 weeks, is the allotment sufficient?

Without being good at math, I can tell you--no, it's not.

Ever since I began working here in December--no matter which campus I am on--dry erase ink is a battle each day. When I first started, I went into the Supply and Logistics room to get my marker refilled, every day. And every day, the guy behind the desk would say "No ink." Then I'd go to class, "Sorry guys, no lesson today: the logistics guy says there's no ink." Students weren't getting what they paid for.

My foreign manager actually lost his temper one day, grabbed the guy, and frog-marched him to class so the logistics guy could explain why my manager couldn't teach. Apparently, it didn't change anything.

All the guy had to do was take a field trip to the supply store and buy some more ink at company expense. Is it so much to ask? (And no, I'm not buying my own and paying the uncompensated "foreigner price", so don't try to argue that one with me.)

This term, I'm teaching on other campuses. The supervisor at one said that "two bottles" were "all he was allowed to give me". And he won't give me any more. So, when I run out of ink in the middle of class, I simply interrupt the lesson to step downstairs and brandish the marker in his face till he refills it with his own ink. We've lost a lot of class time this way.

On the other campus, Supply and Logistics simply refuses to give me any bottles of ink at all (that is, if they even bother to show up for work that morning).

Usually, I break in and plunder whatever inks I can find--if I have to interrupt class and they're not at work...well...

But yesterday takes the cake. After realizing that my marker wasn't going to hold out, I set my students onto an assignment and headed downstairs.

Supply and Logistics was locked. I went to the English Department, who responsibly directed me to Supply and Logistics.

Me: "I'm not leaving this room till you put ink in my marker." (I explained my situation and was very polite, but this is what it boiled down to.)

So, after great rummaging, the admin staff found a refill bottle and a pair of scissors to cut off the plastic tip. The guy then proceeded to frantically refill my marker for the next 90 seconds. He then handed it back to me, and I headed back to class.

About halfway up the stairs, I noticed my marker still felt empty. And there, as I peered at the internal level of ink between the labels on the marker, I discovered that the admin staff had put in approximately .5 cm (three drops) of ink. A mistake? A joke? An attempt to humiliate me?

I don't know what it was, but I can tell tell you that that morning was more red than blue.

If this were China, I'd think all this stuff was their arrogant, passive-aggressive way of telling me that foreigners are too demanding and too wasteful.

But this isn't China, right?

I'm Better

I am not sick now.

I was going to just put up with whatever was bothering me, since it seemed to eliminate all the hunger my thyroid gives me. But after going to work for several days with a fever, I realized that being hungry all the time is slightly less debilitating.

So I ate the albendazole tablets I found in my fridge from that one time when I had the Baby Bird. And that seemed to knock out whatever parasites were eating my intestines.

So I'm ok now.

*But I'm still hungry*