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?