Happy-Lucky Chinese New Year

This week is Chinese New Year. Even though Cambodia isn't part of China, it's still celebrated here as part of China's sphere of cultural influence. Although I'd rather be celebrating Chinese New Year in Cambodia than in China itself, it is nonetheless not without its challenges here.

First, most every institution gets the week off--except mine. The founder of this school stubbornly clings to the notion that he runs a Cambodian institution, dammit, not a Chinese one. Therefore, taking Chinese New Year off is an impossibility.

I like that attitude, actually, but unfortunately the Cambodian public does not share his sentiments. Most students don't even show up all week. Some teachers don't either, leaving the students who actually did show up wandering the hallways for an hour and a half, waiting to see if their next teacher will show up for their next class.

So far, I've cancelled two out of the three classes (you may guess that I'm typing this entry during one of my cancelled classes--because there's nothing else to do till my next class begins). In the first one, no one showed up at all. In the second, one student showed up--but she hadn't purchased her textbook yet, which she needed to do the exercises. What choice did I have but to let her go home? She'd been sitting there for an hour and a half, because her other teacher never came.

The classes you don't cancel, you're stuck entertaining about 2 to 5 students for an hour and a half. You can't teach them too much, or else you'll have to repeat it for the rest of the class, whenever they come back. You can't do too little, or else there's no point in holding class anyway. It's kind of a tough spot to be in.

I remember last year. I was just coming down with subacute thyroiditis, and I really didn't want to teach class. I was happy to see that in one of my classes, there were no students. The thyroid problem made me overheat, so I just sat underneath the air conditioner and waited for the next class.

Some guy from admin came in. "No one showed up to class?" he asked me, which I confirmed. "You have to stay here for the entire class, or else I'm not going to let them pay you for work today," he informed me.

That sounded like such bullshit to me, that I called my supervisor.

Me: Hey Barry. No one's in my class today.

Barry: Well then, you get paid free time!

Me: About that. Some guy from admin was in here and he told me that I'm not getting paid if I don't stay in the classroom. Please tell me that's rubbish.

Barry: He was from admin? Really?

Me: Yeah.

Barry: He was on his own little power trip. IGNORE.

And I did ignore it, only to discover the same guy had bothered a lot of other teachers in the same way. Not all of them were as graceful and dignified as me--some of 'em went down kicking and screaming! I guess it happens every year. No admin staffer will prevail over our right to get paid for slacking off, dammit!

And that's what I call a traditional Chinese New Year. At least they're not power-tripping this time!

Now if only no one would show up for my high school class this evening... (then that would mean I would have to walk 40 minutes only to have to walk home again--but at least I wouldn't have to teach those brats)

Rant: Why I Hate My ID Card

School's back in session. It's been back in session for two weeks actually, but I haven't been able to muster the motivation to comment on it.

My major issue this term is that I now live twice as far from the campuses as I did before. And that's an unpleasant distance to have to walk.

My other issue is just my anti-authoritarian control issues rearing their ugly head again. People who know me, know how resistant I can be towards someone making a perfectly reasonable request--and I still don't know why I do this.

Somehow, somewhere, someone decided that they needed to have an "ID Card Check" at every entrance of every building. Now there's some stuffy looking guy from admin informing me that I have to wear my name tag at all times.

I don't want to wear the name tag. Why? Because it's a liability. It's the first thing that's going to be lost. I'm going to put it in my pocket, and it's going to fall out. I'm going to take it off and accidently leave it on the table at KFC. The same reason that I had to pay hundreds and hundreds of dirhams to the American University in Dubai after I kept losing the dorm keys. The thing is better off staying on my table at home. I'm completely irresponsible with my things, and I don't want to wear the damn ID card.

And, not to carry the gripe futher than it needs to go, but what is this? Nazi Germany? "Where are your papers, ma'am?" I'm a responsible adult; I don't wanna be treated like that.

In all honesty, though, it really shouldn't be the problem that it is for me, especially given that You must wear your ID Card at all times is posted in the sheet of rules I was given when I first started working here (and is posted multiple times in each teacher's lounge). So it's not like they're wrong. Everyone else wears their nametags; no one else seems to have issues with it, either, just me.

But how is it that I've managed to go for more than a year--AN ENTIRE YEAR--without anyone ever once saying anything about my missing ID card? And now suddenly, they've got a guy at every door, not letting people inside who don't have nametags? It's retarded. I guess the word must have gotten around about the renegade teacher who refuses to wear her nametag (because that's what they spend their time and money discussing)!

I really don't wanna do what they've been telling me to do...but on the other hand, I really don't want to turn such a retarded issue into some ridiculous conflagration. Crap, I hate being in this position, though.

*I somehow made it through grade school and high school without getting in trouble, in case you're wondering.

Housekeeping

Hello my dear readers.

It may seem as though I have disappeared off the face of the map for the last week or so. And basically I did.

I told you about my new apartment, and how it isn't nearly as great as I kept psyching myself up for it to be. Well, I had to spend the last ten days restoring it to the glory I had dreamt it to once have had.

Just like Mars, the whole thing was covered in red dust. With a scrubber and a sponge in hand, and tile cleaner in bucket, I launched an all-out assult on the walls of filth around me. I don't know how the previous tenants had lived like that: orange-brown liquid rolled down the walls, running into filthy-looking pools on the floor. By the time I had washed and rinsed all the walls, I saw that they were made of white (not beige) tile. And shiny! I then scrubbed the grime out of the kitchen, to discover that it was lined with the same white tile. The same for my bedroom. Man, I was even scrubbing the ceiling--yes, it too was filthy. I could even taste the filth in the soapy, mouse-turd-laden water that dripped repeatedly into my face and mouth. Then it was time to mop up the floor.

I don't know if the previous tenants had ever cleaned it once during their time there, if the wall paint that easily melted off the tiles was any indication.

All this scrubbing took me several days--it felt good to actually be able to use my body after a year of literally lying around doing nothing. My cleaning frenzy was also briefly interrupted by an illness...I don't know what it was, but I managed to develop a fever (with no other symptoms) as I came home from the store one night. Given that I developed diarrhea later that night, I can only assume it was something I ate...and it left me with an aching stomach for three days, thereby causing me to call off the cleansing mission during that time. I blame the ranitidine for that incident.

After cleaning was over, I still had nothing in the apartment. Just an old bed frame and mattress. A stinky fridge and an old TV on top of it. That's it. I had to put my blankets over the mattress in the absence of a sheet. Lying in bed with my stomach grumbling and aching, I realized how incredibly depressing it all was:

• I possessed nothing but the junk-filled plastic bags on the floor
• There was no hot water
• There were rats in the ceiling
• Everyone could see in through my front door
• The washing machine didn't work
• There was no way to keep the disease-ridden mosquitoes out
• It was located right across from a welder's--it was just like the constant obnoxious home improvements that plagued me throughout the month of November, except it would never go away.
• And now there was nothing soft to lie on, even in illness. Not even a pillow.

Had I screwed this new apartment thing up or what?

So I had to spend the next several days re-awesoming the apartment.

I managed to get a wicker sofa and chairs and small table from the landlady. I put the TV on a pretty cloth and hooked it up to the PlayStation. I bought some wicker shelvery and a small desk to keep the water cooler on. I put stuff in the fridge, and bought some pretty mats to keep more dirt from getting tracked in. I stored things in expensive new plastic containers from Paragon. I printed some epic pictures of dinosaurs, ships, and naval battles and taped them on the walls of the bedroom.

Now my bedroom is cozy (except for the lack of pillows). The living room is still somewhat less cozy, but I suspect that a futon and throw rug will go a long way towards improving this. The kitchen is functional, and so is the bathroom (except I miss having a sink and hot water. And toilet paper).

I still haven't managed to touch the upstairs, however. There are still no screens on the windows, and people can still see in through my front door. And the sawing and drilling coming from the welder's at 7 am is permanent.

BUT NOW--my landlady is talking about selling the building...so should I even bother to care? Should I even make any further efforts? Makes me wish I hadn't wasted a week re-awesoming this place at all. Fuck.

Oh Crap.

I made a mistake in thinking my new apartment was gonna be so awesome.

It was awesome by virtue of the fact that it was cozy, and it was cozy because it was filled with furniture and people.

Other apartments have all been furnished; I assumed this one was the same.

NOPE! I walked in on the evening of 1 January 2012 after returning from Siem Reap only to discover that the Grinch had apparently raided my apartment, leaving behind nothing in the house...but a crumb that was even too small for a mouse!

Also, a few cockroaches living in the gas stove top, and a lot of dirt and orange dust on the floors, the walls, the balcony, and appliances.

To top it off, I was told I was being charged for gas and cable and expected to pay that night.

It was then that something inside me broke inwardly. I wanted to burst into tears for the second time in 24 hours. I basically traded everything for nothing.

I retreated to the rooftop at my guesthouse, where I tried to get a hold of myself...I told myself that this way, I can make the apartment up any old way I want to! I can clean it, refurbish it, buy new stuff, decorate it, and make it the best apartment EVER!

...right?

Making the Worst Choice: Adventure!

I admit it--I am lord and master of getting into bad situations. Yet it is seldom that I so royally live up to the title of this blog as I have this New Year.

I almost don't even want to talk about it.

After securing all my stuff at Happy Guesthouse, I headed up to Siem Reap for the day. I was supposed to meet a friend there. We were going to catch the first sunrise of the year over Angkor Wat. It was going to be awesome!

It was profoundly un-awesome.

The first mistake was taking the 11 am bus. I couldn't get an earlier bus, and if I'd have bothered to listen to my gut instinct screaming NO! at me, I would have just gone home right then. Instead I did that thing I do: I persisted.

My friend had to meet me before 7 pm before she hosted a New Year's event till after midnight--she would be incommunicado after that point. Wouldn't you know it? The bus blew a tire and I didn't show up till after 7pm, effectively severing our communication. There was no plan in place for what to do next (and yes, guys, I did try to make one).

I decided the best thing to do would be to find a guesthouse and try to meet up early in the morning. The first few I found either blocked me from coming in, or didn't speak English. I got a massive wave of hypothyroid sleepiness at this point, in addition to being unbearably hungry and sugar-crashy from not eating on the long bus trip. Tears of frustration clouded my eyes (yes, literal tears. I was really going to cry).

(Between you and me, I'm sometimes too much of a wimp to be a real adventurer).

Finally, I found a moto driver to just take me into the center of town. The problem is, there were no vacancies in literally ANY guesthouses. For two hours, we drove through town just looking for somewhere to stay.

I can tell you what, from a tourist's perspective, is the worst possible choice to make in Cambodia. Namely, that would be going to Siem Reap on the afternoon of 31 December without previously booking a hotel room.

Never, never do this.

Everyone comes to Siem Reap for the big New Years celebration...I don't know why, but they do. And I had nowhere to stay.

I had several meltdowns at several guesthouses (complete with me rolling into a sobbing ball of despair and consigning myself to a bench in the park, which is quite embarrassing now that I think about it).

By the time I realized there was really and truly nowhere to stay, I still hadn't eaten anything, I was dead tired and my brain wasn't working, and ALL I WANTED TO DO WAS GO HOME. Really despairing of ever being able to find a place to stay, I went to a bus station to buy a night bus ticket. The soonest the bus left was at midnight (it was about 9 pm at that point and MAN, I didn't want to wait).

Before buying the ticket, I decided I should just get some food.

After wandering a ways down the road, I happened upon an Indian food restaurant with no one inside...so I went in and wearily sat at a table.

I had been in regular contact with my friend, Thearea, having him translate my illness and despair to my moto driver...he became increasingly worried, and told me he had a friend who might let me sleep at his place for the night. Well, his friend called me at the table, and proceeded to try to sell me a tour of Angkor Wat. My sense of hospitality offended, I declined.

Then I was too depressed to eat--not angry, not frustrated, not worried, not amused, just depressed. I boxed up the food to go and figured I would just go wait for the bus for three hours...feeling miserable, spaced out, and unwell...I was feeling so bad mentally, physically, and emotionally at this point that it was unreal.

As I walked down the road, I happened to notice a sign that said "Tourist Information."

Me: Heeeyyyy.... Maybe THEY can help me find a place to stay.

To make a long story short, they did, and they even drove me there for free. The guesthouse they found was located far on the outskirts of town, and that was fine with me.

I dragged myself into my $12 per night bed and went to sleep, awakened only once by the sound of fireworks at midnight.

I woke up at 4:45 am and took the first bus back to Phnom Penh. I didn't give a crap about Angkor at that point, and anyway, the sky was cloudy, so the first sunrise of the year might not have been all that spectacular.

I'm sorry that day happened.

But I did learn one thing: Never try to book a room in Siem Reap on 31 December.