The King is Dead, Part II

I know it's old news by now, but I did in fact go to the funeral procession this Wednesday, 17 Oct 2012.

It was one of the more incredible displays of solidarity and goodwill I've seen, and that includes my days as an international youth activist.  I have not been given an official number, but an estimated 300,000 citizens of Cambodia turned out on the streets to pay homage to the King Father as his body was taken back to the Royal Palace.

Everyone lined the main streets in their funeral attire--hundreds of thousands of people.  For hours.  The only crowd I have witnessed comparable to this (within my short 29 years, anyway) was that of the Washington DC protest against the Iraq War.  In a country this size, that's really saying something!

If you're wondering what that might have looked like, well, it was like this (in front of the Royal Palace).  You can see mourning attire is dark pants and a white shirt.:

And this:

And this (on Sothearos Blvd):

And this (on Sihanouk):

And this (on the corner of Sihanouk and Sothearos):

And this:

Predictably, it was difficult to get across town for my afternoon lesson.  And to be honest, I'm sorry I went to it, because I managed to miss the procession itself.  So, I don't have pictures of that, but I do have pictures of the solidarity and goodwill of the Cambodian people.

Here's something impressive and moving I apparently missed in its full resplendent glory:

As night fell, I made it back into town.  The whole palace was lit up in commemoration of the King Father, and people were offering prayers.

In other news, October 17th is the 2-year anniversary of the day I fled from China to Cambodia.  I'd wish all of this was somehow a magic wish in honor of this date...but sadly, it was not.  Rest in peace, Your Majesty.

The King Is Dead

I walked into class this morning.  I was all happy and chipper and well-rested after my 5-day Pchum Ben holiday.  Eager to spread the goodwill, I bubbled on about how everyone's holiday was.

I was kind of surprised when I was unequivocally informed that the holidays had universally been "bad".  Given that the culture emphasizes smiling and always being "happy", I was rather taken aback.

Turns out that somehow, without my knowledge or consent, the King Father, Norodom, passed away Monday afternoon in a hospital in Beijing, China.  He was 90 (so this wasn't entirely unexpected).  My students, nonetheless, were incredibly depressed about it; it was as though a personal family member had died.  I marvel at this, having watched several former US presidents state funerals without batting an eye.

Even in the remotest areas of the farthest flung provinces, people found out about this within minutes.  Yet, somehow, I managed to evade knowledge of this for 48 hours.  I hate being the last to know!  I guess that's what happens if you live inside a TV-less, Khmer-less, friendless bubble--you  miss out on stuff.

Classes were then cancelled in the afternoon--except that students got wind of this and decided that morning classes were also cancelled.  No one was in my classroom when I walked in for my second session--they'd all abandoned ship.  As a consequence, I went home at 9:30 today, past the Royal Palace.

The Royal Palace is the reason that classes were cancelled.  King Norodom's body is being flown in from Beijing and taken to the Royal Palace for exhibition.  Consequently, the cortege will be traveling through town; there is a giant memorial outside the palace that was forming even as I walked in this morning.  I was wondering why there there were so many military guys out front...!

Streets are blocked off even just a block down from my apartment; I expect there will be a pretty big crowd forming; dignitaries are expected to be in town for the next week or so.

Dunno how I'm getting to my Khmer lesson today, or if my school will even be accessible tomorrow morning.  Meh.  Whatever.  Even though it's a life-and-death situation, I guess it's not a life-and-death situation.

More Super-Negativistic, Waste-of-Your-Time Bullshit from the Front Lines

The last two months have been uneventful.  I've been doing exactly what I was doing two months ago--teaching my two morning classes and taking Khmer lessons in the afternoon.  Not that much to report.

About the only noteworthy thing is the classroom rebellion I had to put down after our first exam.  My classes didn't score very highly, and apparently banded together insisting that it was all my fault for "speaking too fast, not leaving time for questions, and not being buddy-buddy with the students".  The first two charges were bullshit, and I told my supervisor so.  The third one is ridiculously true--I am no one's buddy, especially in situations in which I am the responsible adult.  Moreover, that has nothing to do with exam scores.

In the end, the students with grievances changed classes.  Good riddance.  I'm pretty sure this is what happens when you establish a class presidency like I griped about at an earlier date.  Everyone plots against everyone else; I know so, because literally every other teacher has had to deal with the same thing this term.  The students now have a sense of solidarity; the new management is using it to keep us in check.

I swear, though, this used to be a good place to work!  It's been like my favorite job ever--I wish all this piddly shit would go away.  I find it ironic in the extreme that I made it through two years of extreme illness, bad temper, and physical inability to work without receiving a single complaint.  Now that I'm healthy...well...

In other news, I've nearly finished the first book in my Khmer lessons (there are 5 total).  That means I'm almost not a beginner anymore!  Isn't that wonderful?  After 2 years of ignorance, I'm finally almost not a beginner anymore!  I'm really glad I'm taking lessons with a human being (rather than a CD or podcast), because language is pretty easy to learn when you don't have to memorize and hear only limited dialogue.  It's also nice to be able to interact rather than being force-fed grammatical rules.

An hour a day isn't much, but at least I can now navigate the city in Khmer, and can kind of understand some of the things people say to me.  Sometimes.