Posts
Okay, I know I should get over it. I definitely have to end my Michaelpalooza at work, but I just can't help it. Every time I think about it I get sad. And then I saw Janet's heartbreaking speech at the BET Awards (the first time that BET has ever done anything not to be embarrassed about) and I started thinking about how awful it would be to lose my brother, especially in such a slow and tragic way, and I got all upset again. I don't know what I would do. I can't imagine recovering from something so devastating. So, this post is for Janet too.
Still mourning,
kat
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Send Kimsray To College
The reasons that I travel (which I will elucidate for you in due time) largely centers around the people I meet. Even in a place that I hate I am guaranteed to meet at least one person who makes the trip worthwhile. Sometimes, I meet a person who needs help with something that seems too big for that person or even both of us to handle by ourselves. Enter: Kimsray. By now I have told you all about her, that she's smart, hardworking, super sweet, and my Cambodian tour guide. I told you about how we got her a passport and are trying to start studying for the SAT and the TOEFL so she can try to get to college. Wait? Did I tell you that? Oh well, now you know.
Unfortunately, I don't know if you remember applying for college, but it’s expensive. And it’s even more expensive for international students. Not only does Kimsray have to pay for the SAT and TOEFL (at over $100 each) but she also needs study materials, application fees, shipping costs (it cost me $38 to mail six pieces of paper to UNICEF from the states and $11 to mail 15 postcards from Phnom Penh to the US. Imagine how much it will cost to send application materials), internet café, printing, and copying fees (Kimsray doesn’t have a computer), phone cards for interviews, and a host of other fees and costs. And this is before she even finds out if she gets in. Considering that the average annual salary in Cambodia is $290 and that Kimsray’s mother makes $120 as a cook (making her almost well-off by Cambodian standards), how long do you think it would take her to save up enough money?
Unfortunately, I don't know if you remember applying for college, but it’s expensive. And it’s even more expensive for international students. Not only does Kimsray have to pay for the SAT and TOEFL (at over $100 each) but she also needs study materials, application fees, shipping costs (it cost me $38 to mail six pieces of paper to UNICEF from the states and $11 to mail 15 postcards from Phnom Penh to the US. Imagine how much it will cost to send application materials), internet café, printing, and copying fees (Kimsray doesn’t have a computer), phone cards for interviews, and a host of other fees and costs. And this is before she even finds out if she gets in. Considering that the average annual salary in Cambodia is $290 and that Kimsray’s mother makes $120 as a cook (making her almost well-off by Cambodian standards), how long do you think it would take her to save up enough money?
Once Kimsray is accepted, we’re hoping to apply and help her get as many scholarships as possible to pay for the actual schooling. Luckily, American and Canadian universities are pretty phenomenal about helping international students pay for school once they get in, but we have a lot of work to do before we get there.
I know it’s corny, but I really do believe that we can change the world one phenomenal woman at a time and I think Kimsray has the potential to be a positive force for Cambodia and the world. If girls get the educations they need, they will be the ones who make their countries into great nations. It is only once the women in developing countries have the opportunities that they deserve that we can erase the corruption, violence, and poverty that are keeping them down, and finally succeed in making the world just that much better. Kimsray is just one step out of many, but she is a big step, and a step we can all take. Some people may say that helping just one girl in a country struggling as much as Cambodia is like spitting in the wind, but I think it’s more like lighting a fire in a barn house. All you have to do is light one girl with education to watch a whole village burn. Light enough villages and you can set a nation on fire. And with your help, I think we can collect a lot of matches.
I say all of this to say that we need your help. Helping Kimsray get her passport, although totally worth it, was the last straw of a lot of unexpected expenses that have left me unsure of how I will provide for myself for the next two months. It was worth it and I would do it again, but the fact is that I have to recognize my own limitations and I simply cannot help Kimsray by myself. However, I am committed to do everything I can to at least give her a chance to change her life. In that spirit, Kimsray and I have started a blog (soon to be a website once I can figure out some of the technical difficulties) at sendkimsraytocollege.blogspot.com. Please visit the site, read more about what we're trying to do, and if you're moved to help (even just $5 would make a huge difference, that's like 10 hours of internet cafe time!) just click on the link to the PAYPAL account on the left.
We would also love any emails and comments on the site to keep us motivated! Applying to college is going to be hard work for Kimsray. We're going to have to spend every day and weekend in July studying and then she's on her own when I go to Africa. I know it would help her to know that there are people out there who believe in her.
As we accomplish our goals we’ll let you know about it. Of course I'll be writing about it here and Kimsray will even be writing a blog of her own on sendkimsraytocollege.blogspot.com about how the process is going (it will also be good practice for the essay portion of the SAT!). Our goal is for Kimsray to apply this fall to start school the fall of 2010! This is a BIG GOAL but we accomplished big goals all of the time in Teach For America and I have no less faith that we can do so here.
If everyone who reads this donates $5, or more if you're ballin', I know we can make it.
I know this sounds a lot like an infomercial and I'm sorry. I'm just really excited about helping my friend. Please go to sendkimsraytocollege.blogspot.com and help us out just a little bit.
Thanks so much!
Travel well, travel smart, travel with a heart,
kat & kimsray
The Vacation I Didn't Go On (some things are more important than a holiday)
Kimsray and I had a great holiday planned for this weekend. Her 21st birthday was on the 16th and she didn't even have a party! There were no presents or anything and she's so good that she doesn't drink or go out or anything! Typical American girl that I am, I thought this was tragic, and Kimsray wasn't thrilled about it either. So, I thought that we should go on a trip! We have both been dying to go to the Koh Kong Conservation Corridor so I figured this would be the perfect time to venture into the wild and stay at the Rainbow Lodge.
I called Janet, the owner of the lodge, who is absolutely the sweetest person in the world, and made reservations. We even managed to get the day off from work. It was all set.
Meanwhile, Kimsray and I have spent a lot of time discussing her future. Believe me, you'll hear a lot more about this very soon. Kimsray is dying to go to college in the States and I really think she has a good shot. As we've been looking at everything that is required, I found out that she doesn't even have a passport! My passport is the most valuable of all of my possessions. I've had it since birth and I would never go a day without it. I couldn't believe that Kimsray didn't have one. Plus, she has to have it for entrance into exams like the TOEFL, which she needs for college.
Then I found out why she doesn't have one: They cost $139!!!!!
Let me get on my soapbox for a minute. A Cambodian passport costs $139, and yet the average annual salary in Cambodia is $290. That's the equivalent of a US passport costing about $25,000!!! As it is, they only cost about $75 at home. Plus also (as Junie B. Jones would say), Cambodian passports have to be renewed every three years!!! So, even if you could spend the 15 years saving enough money to get a passport and another 20 years saving enough money for a flight, you would have to work for another 25 years to be able to afford to come back and get it renewed again!!! Are you f*ing kidding me??? And Kimsray is lucky because her mother works as a cook and makes $120 a month, positively middle class in Cambodia. So maybe they would only have to not have food and shelter for a month so that Kimsray could get a passport. And then starve for another 10 years to be able to afford the $2,000 plane ticket to the US.
Okay, I'm done. Back to the story.
Kimsray, of course, was totally bummed about the passport thing. So, I told her that she could choose her birthday present, either the trip to Koh Kong for the weekend, or a passport. Being the intelligent woman that she is, she chose a passport.
To tell the truth, I really can't afford either so I would much rather want the money to go to something permanent and useful than a quick holiday.
So, we were all set to hand in the paperwork and get Kimsray a passport when I happened to be discussing the ridiculous cost of passports in Cambodia with my boss. Amazing woman that she is (and this is the reason that I want to work for UNICEF for the rest of my life), without hesitating (and we didn't even think about asking) she gave us money for almost half of the passport!!!
So now, in a month Kimsray will have her passport! She'll be one step closer to college, and I'll be one weekend trip shorter for a good cause.
Life is good. And my boss is amazing.
I called Janet, the owner of the lodge, who is absolutely the sweetest person in the world, and made reservations. We even managed to get the day off from work. It was all set.
Meanwhile, Kimsray and I have spent a lot of time discussing her future. Believe me, you'll hear a lot more about this very soon. Kimsray is dying to go to college in the States and I really think she has a good shot. As we've been looking at everything that is required, I found out that she doesn't even have a passport! My passport is the most valuable of all of my possessions. I've had it since birth and I would never go a day without it. I couldn't believe that Kimsray didn't have one. Plus, she has to have it for entrance into exams like the TOEFL, which she needs for college.
Then I found out why she doesn't have one: They cost $139!!!!!
Let me get on my soapbox for a minute. A Cambodian passport costs $139, and yet the average annual salary in Cambodia is $290. That's the equivalent of a US passport costing about $25,000!!! As it is, they only cost about $75 at home. Plus also (as Junie B. Jones would say), Cambodian passports have to be renewed every three years!!! So, even if you could spend the 15 years saving enough money to get a passport and another 20 years saving enough money for a flight, you would have to work for another 25 years to be able to afford to come back and get it renewed again!!! Are you f*ing kidding me??? And Kimsray is lucky because her mother works as a cook and makes $120 a month, positively middle class in Cambodia. So maybe they would only have to not have food and shelter for a month so that Kimsray could get a passport. And then starve for another 10 years to be able to afford the $2,000 plane ticket to the US.
Okay, I'm done. Back to the story.
Kimsray, of course, was totally bummed about the passport thing. So, I told her that she could choose her birthday present, either the trip to Koh Kong for the weekend, or a passport. Being the intelligent woman that she is, she chose a passport.
To tell the truth, I really can't afford either so I would much rather want the money to go to something permanent and useful than a quick holiday.
So, we were all set to hand in the paperwork and get Kimsray a passport when I happened to be discussing the ridiculous cost of passports in Cambodia with my boss. Amazing woman that she is (and this is the reason that I want to work for UNICEF for the rest of my life), without hesitating (and we didn't even think about asking) she gave us money for almost half of the passport!!!
So now, in a month Kimsray will have her passport! She'll be one step closer to college, and I'll be one weekend trip shorter for a good cause.
Life is good. And my boss is amazing.
Friday, June 26, 2009
R.I.P. Michael Jackson
I am still so in shock that Michael Jackson is dead, there is absolutely nothing I can say. I was so upset all day and I really wanted to be home with people to reminisce with. Luckily, Elsewhere understood and had a remembrance party for MJ last night. A bunch of us went and honoured the icon the best way we could, by enjoying the music that he sacrificed his childhood, his reality, and his life for.
It occurred to me yesterday, while I was thinking about the fact that the next generation of children will grow up in a world with no Michael Jackson, that they won't really. Think about all of the icons who died before I was born, Marilyn Monroe, John Lennon, Martin Luther King, Jr., JFK, Elvis. I wasn't a fly in the womb when they died but I know everything about them. How they looked, walked, talked. What they said. When they said it. I have never lived in a world without them, even though they were long gone before I arrived. That's what Michael is like. He'll always be a part of our culture, our history, the lifeblood of the human story. So even though he's dead, he'll never really be gone.
But I'm still going to miss him.
R.I.P. Michael. Maybe now you can finally have some peace.
It occurred to me yesterday, while I was thinking about the fact that the next generation of children will grow up in a world with no Michael Jackson, that they won't really. Think about all of the icons who died before I was born, Marilyn Monroe, John Lennon, Martin Luther King, Jr., JFK, Elvis. I wasn't a fly in the womb when they died but I know everything about them. How they looked, walked, talked. What they said. When they said it. I have never lived in a world without them, even though they were long gone before I arrived. That's what Michael is like. He'll always be a part of our culture, our history, the lifeblood of the human story. So even though he's dead, he'll never really be gone.
But I'm still going to miss him.
R.I.P. Michael. Maybe now you can finally have some peace.
Social Butterflies
On Wednesday night I had a small soiree at my place. We had drinks (Caroline managed to find the only freelance bottle of Bombay Sapphire in the country), ordered food, and generally had a fabulous time. Afterwards, we went to Fly, our friend Sophea's fabulous riverside club. I think a picture is worth a thousand words when it comes to a part, so enjoy my 7,000 word essay.
p.s. This is also your first chance to see my new haircut!
Travel well!
kat
p.s. This is also your first chance to see my new haircut!
Travel well!
kat
Monday, June 22, 2009
Angkor Wat!
On Friday, I visited Angkor Wat. I could tell you all about it but that would probably ruin the whole thing. Instead, I made my very first travel video!! Sadly, I'm no Steven Spielberg, I'm not even Penny Marshall, and the only thing Tarantino about it is the fact that you'll probably feel a little nauseous at the end. Apologies. But still, the pictures below only show you a little of what it looks like, I'm hoping with my video you can at least get a partial sense of what it feels like. I was surprised at the extent to which I was able to walk around, through, and on top of the ruins. They are still open just like the temples would have been a million years ago (or whatever) and it's really awesome just to get to walk around an explore like Indiana Jones. Which was filmed here, btw, but not at the temple in the film. The whole temple complex (it's like a giant national park) was practically empty except for Ta Prohm, the Indiana Jones temple. I'm convinced that some people came all the way to Cambodia just to go to that one temple and come back.
Enjoy the pictures, enjoy the video, and let me know what you think! I promise I'll work on my video skillz in the future!
Travel well,
kat
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Enjoy the pictures, enjoy the video, and let me know what you think! I promise I'll work on my video skillz in the future!
Travel well,
kat
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Sunday, June 21, 2009
Hairstory
I just cut all of my hair off. This, in itself, is not unusual for me. I’ve done it before. And much more drastically than today. However, I have never cut my hair by myself. But, I was desperate, and there’s no Tony & Guy in Phnom Penh, so I just went ahead and did it. I brought hair scissors with me but they were confiscated in the Bangkok airport and I couldn't find a beauty supply store here, so I bought the most expensive scissors I could find at the stationery store ($1.60) and figured I'd risk it.
I’ve been wanting to cut my hair for a while, but after sweating like a rabid dog (do rabid dogs sweat?) at Angkor Wat, I couldn’t take it anymore. It’s just so hot under all of that hair!! It’s bad enough straight, but when all of your hair is wound up and bunched against your skull, it’s murder. Natural hair traps heat. Or so I’ve learned. Anyways, I always prefer having short hair, and I think I’ll be sooo much cooler now. Of course, the cut is mad uneven, but oh well, there are no black people here so nobody will notice!!
I would add pictures but they won't load on this slow wifi connection! But you'll see them when I post pics of my next trip. And yes, the Angkor Wat post is coming!!!
Travel well,
kat
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I’ve been wanting to cut my hair for a while, but after sweating like a rabid dog (do rabid dogs sweat?) at Angkor Wat, I couldn’t take it anymore. It’s just so hot under all of that hair!! It’s bad enough straight, but when all of your hair is wound up and bunched against your skull, it’s murder. Natural hair traps heat. Or so I’ve learned. Anyways, I always prefer having short hair, and I think I’ll be sooo much cooler now. Of course, the cut is mad uneven, but oh well, there are no black people here so nobody will notice!!
I would add pictures but they won't load on this slow wifi connection! But you'll see them when I post pics of my next trip. And yes, the Angkor Wat post is coming!!!
Travel well,
kat
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Friday, June 19, 2009
New Indie Travel Podcast Article!!
Every time I try to use the internet in Cambodia I think that I have finally found the slowest connection on Earth. As it turns out, there seems to be a competition going on and I am currently working from a serious contender. As such, although today I went to the awesome Angkor Wat, the stories and pictures will have to live to be posted another day.
However, on the more practical side, for those of you who are planning a trip of your own, dreaming about planning a trip of your own, or just wonder what it takes to turn off the Travel Channel and live your own adventure, my new article just arrived on Indie Travel Podcast. I highly recommend that you check it out, not just because I wrote it, but because I added a lot of links from people who actually know what they are doing!
Have a great weekend and let me know what you think of the article!
Travel well,
kat
However, on the more practical side, for those of you who are planning a trip of your own, dreaming about planning a trip of your own, or just wonder what it takes to turn off the Travel Channel and live your own adventure, my new article just arrived on Indie Travel Podcast. I highly recommend that you check it out, not just because I wrote it, but because I added a lot of links from people who actually know what they are doing!
Have a great weekend and let me know what you think of the article!
Travel well,
kat
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Being an Intern
Things that suck about being an intern:
1. No pay
2. No say in important matters
3. No pay
4. Lack of permanence
5. No pay
Things that rock about being an intern:
1. Amazing people
2. Great contacts
3. Steep learning curve
4. Free trips
5. Other interns
6. Intern parties
2. No say in important matters
3. No pay
4. Lack of permanence
5. No pay
Things that rock about being an intern:
1. Amazing people
2. Great contacts
3. Steep learning curve
4. Free trips
5. Other interns
6. Intern parties
Monday, June 15, 2009
Unhealthy
I don't know what's wrong with me. I've never been so sick on the road before. In fact, I've rarely been this sick before. When I first got here I was fine, then I ate lunch with the Cambodian secretaries at work and that night I got a full-blown case of Montezuma's revenge which lasted for so long that I was finally forced to take a dose of Cipro, which I hate. A few days later, it showed up again in a milder form, and as it reappears once a day, I have accepted that it's just something I'm going to have to deal with. But for the last two weeks I have also had a chronic runny nose which sometimes includes a sinus headache, sometimes flu-ish symptoms, and sometimes allergic sneezes. I have taken Dayquil to no effect, so it's not a cold or flu. I took Sudafed, nothing, so it's not a sinus infection, and I've taken Claritin twice, nada. Scratch allergies off the list.
I'm at my wits end. I've been sitting in meetings with a box of tissues and trash can by my side, trying- unsuccessfully- to look elegant while I blow the last remnants of my dignity into the thinnest white tissues that I have ever seen. Thank goodness I'm just expected to sit on the side and listen, I can't imagine actually trying to participate at this point. But I can't figure out why I'm sick. My nose can't take it any more and I dread the thought of having to take a roll of toilet paper and a plastic baggie to Angkor Wat. Something's got to give.
Any suggestions?
Travel well!
kat
I'm at my wits end. I've been sitting in meetings with a box of tissues and trash can by my side, trying- unsuccessfully- to look elegant while I blow the last remnants of my dignity into the thinnest white tissues that I have ever seen. Thank goodness I'm just expected to sit on the side and listen, I can't imagine actually trying to participate at this point. But I can't figure out why I'm sick. My nose can't take it any more and I dread the thought of having to take a roll of toilet paper and a plastic baggie to Angkor Wat. Something's got to give.
Any suggestions?
Travel well!
kat
This is a picture of me during the 5 seconds when my nose wasn't running.
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Weekend Getaway
On Thursday night I went to a party at some other interns's apartment with Marianne. The party was great, met lots of folks (mostly law students, ironically enough) and had a fab time. Most of the kids are American, British, and Australian, with French Marianne rounding out the bunch. So basically, a typical group of backpackers.
Friday night, a bunch of the folks I'd met and I all went out for happy hour at FCC and dinner at Alley Cat Cafe. Somewhere between the G&Ts and enchiladas we decided to go to Kep, a tiny beachside town, the next morning. On Saturday, bright and early at 7am, we caught a $5 bus and headed out.
The bus, while relatively modern, was hot and crowded. The A/C was barely working and every seat was full. The road, bumpy as always, was slightly more comfortable in the bus than the back of a truck, but the constant honking made it impossible to get in a good nap. A little over halfway there, we stopped at the Cambodian version of a rest area. Hole-in-the-ground toilets in the back, small children selling pineapples and coconut sticky rice in bamboo cases, and men selling steamed corn on the cob and sticky buns with an unknown, but delicious, filling.
Eventually, 4 1/2 hours after we started, we got to Kep. We weren't sure we were there because there wasn't a town, or a building or anything, just a bunch of thatch-roofed platforms with hammocks and a tiny blue sign that said "BUS STOP". However, the 10 or 20 tuk-tuk drivers crowding the bus door were a dead giveaway. We quickly decided to head straight to Rabbit Island, where a bunch of kids from Columbia were spending the weekend. Two tuk-tuks and four dollars later, we reached the docks. After lengthy talks and negotiations, in which we gained nothing and conceded everything, we managed to get the eleven of us and our luggage in two boats and on the water.
We didn't know what to expect but it certainly wasn't the set of LOST. When we got to the shore (well, 10 feet away from it, we had to wade through the water to get to land), all we saw were three abandoned boats, a closed-up beach house, and jungle.
The fisherman who brought us gestured for us to follow and, with no visible alternatives, we did. It was about 20 seconds into the trek (and a trek it was) that I realized that this is not your mother's island. 20 minutes of narrow paths and thick brush, scratching branches and enormous spiders is a pretty good clue that you're not walking to the Hilton. Just when we were sure that we were walking to our deaths, the brush began to clear and we got our first glimpse of it: the set of the Corona commercials. 
Beautiful beaches, thatched roof bungalows (aka: shacks), hammocks tied to palm trees, hand painted signs advertising everything from BARBECUE to COCKTAILS to PANCAKES WESTERN STYLE and free range cows and chickens roaming around advertised the authenticity of the place. The little old Cambodian woman who silently led us to the open bungalows was probably getting paid $10 an hour from Fox studios.
The bungalows were tiny shacks with a porch complete with hammock and one large room with a thin mattress and mosquito netting. Two of the girls got the last bungalow with a "bathroom"- a small closet with not so much a hole in the ground as a few planks of wood to balance on over the open space. They also had something akin to a showerhead. Marianne and I got a room with no bathroom, for $1 less, and the privilege of walking about 20 yards to an outhouse so vile, and so full of melon-sized spiders that we all just went outside behind our shacks (yes, including me).
There are probably about 30 people who live on Rabbit Island, the other 30 are just visitors. I say 30 because I am assuming that there are people we didn’t see somewhere. We were thrilled when we first sat down at the “restaurant”- a few tables and chairs under a slightly larger thatched roof- and saw that we could get a bucket of large crabs for $5 along with other delicious options. Sadly, we were misled.
Three hours after ordering (I wish I was exaggerating) I got a small plate of sad looking crabs, another girl got the samed size plate (we later realized that all of the plates are the same size but you pay for whatever size you said you wanted…) of rubbery squid, and the only good things were the shrimp (delicious) and any dish with noodles, the noodles being Top Ramen with things mixed into it (egg, veggies, chicken, etc.).
After equally terrible meals at the restaurant next door (there are about 5 guesthouses with the exact same business model), which was supposed to have slightly better food, but didn’t, we realized that they were all cooking on two skillets over fire. Real fire. Which is why it took so long. And they never brought out one dish until all of them were done, which is why our food was always so cold.
Other than the food, which, at three hours per order tends to take up most of your day, all there was to do on the island was to enjoy the small part of the island that wasn’t jungle. We read, slept, chilled in hammocks, were serenaded by Jimmy, the Johnny Depp/Jack Sparrow of the group, swam in the ocean- where several people were stung by jellyfish. The non-paralyzing kind. It turns out, urine really does work, but I’m not speaking from personal experience. Overall, the setting was idyllic. It was exactly like Leo DiCaprio’s first day on The Beach, except without the pot smuggling armies and the crazy British lady who runs a cult. But, who knows? We really didn’t explore that much of the island.
On Sunday morning we headed out. Several of us had to be at work on Monday and the rest were going to chill in Kampot. Our return boat didn’t show up and after a few moments that were more tense and confusing than they needed to be, we were on our way in a new boat. The winds were getting high at this point and we could see the clouds coming in. Our fisherman was moving quickly and as a result, we ended up getting completely soaking wet on the return! It was quite an adventurous ride, capped off by the five foot jump from the boat to the dock. I scratched my leg a bit but no worries! I always carry Neosporin. :-D
After changing into dry clothes, we sat around waiting for the bus. We were starving, and just when I got so desperate that I commented out loud that I would kill for a McDonald’s, the gods must have heard me because a little man with a food cart moto drove by on the road. I yelled, “food passing!” and, with the instincts of a true entrepreneur, he turned the corner and stopped right in front of us. This turned out to be the smartest thing he had ever done because by the time he finished, he had served about 25 people. Of course, at least 22 of those people didn’t know what he was serving, but we really didn’t care either. The food on the cart was a sweet bread in the shape of a subway sandwich, that he filled with something like cream cheese frosting and a yellow shaved substance that looked like fuzzy coconut flakes. This was waaayyy too sweet for me, and I just ate the bread, happily. He also served a delicious cold spiced tea (sort of like Cambodian Good Earth tea) in- and this is the where the man’s true genius comes to light- tiny plastic bags with ice cubes and a straw. Drink in a bag? Awesome! Happily filled, we all got on the bus. This one was freezing and featured extremely loud Khmer karaoke and two middle-aged white men getting cozy with Cambodian girls less than half their age who spoke almost no English. Nice.
After one more stop at the rest area, we were home. Jack picked us up at the bus station and we drove all the girls home, stopped at a café so I could get my ticket to the U.S. Embassy’s July 4 party (yaay! My favourite holiday!) and then finally to #27, so I could take a desperately needed shower, order Indian from Sher-E-Punjab, my new favourite Indian restaurant, and pack for a week away.
Like I said, what a weekend!
Friday night, a bunch of the folks I'd met and I all went out for happy hour at FCC and dinner at Alley Cat Cafe. Somewhere between the G&Ts and enchiladas we decided to go to Kep, a tiny beachside town, the next morning. On Saturday, bright and early at 7am, we caught a $5 bus and headed out.The bus, while relatively modern, was hot and crowded. The A/C was barely working and every seat was full. The road, bumpy as always, was slightly more comfortable in the bus than the back of a truck, but the constant honking made it impossible to get in a good nap. A little over halfway there, we stopped at the Cambodian version of a rest area. Hole-in-the-ground toilets in the back, small children selling pineapples and coconut sticky rice in bamboo cases, and men selling steamed corn on the cob and sticky buns with an unknown, but delicious, filling.
Eventually, 4 1/2 hours after we started, we got to Kep. We weren't sure we were there because there wasn't a town, or a building or anything, just a bunch of thatch-roofed platforms with hammocks and a tiny blue sign that said "BUS STOP". However, the 10 or 20 tuk-tuk drivers crowding the bus door were a dead giveaway. We quickly decided to head straight to Rabbit Island, where a bunch of kids from Columbia were spending the weekend. Two tuk-tuks and four dollars later, we reached the docks. After lengthy talks and negotiations, in which we gained nothing and conceded everything, we managed to get the eleven of us and our luggage in two boats and on the water.We didn't know what to expect but it certainly wasn't the set of LOST. When we got to the shore (well, 10 feet away from it, we had to wade through the water to get to land), all we saw were three abandoned boats, a closed-up beach house, and jungle.
The fisherman who brought us gestured for us to follow and, with no visible alternatives, we did. It was about 20 seconds into the trek (and a trek it was) that I realized that this is not your mother's island. 20 minutes of narrow paths and thick brush, scratching branches and enormous spiders is a pretty good clue that you're not walking to the Hilton. Just when we were sure that we were walking to our deaths, the brush began to clear and we got our first glimpse of it: the set of the Corona commercials. 
Beautiful beaches, thatched roof bungalows (aka: shacks), hammocks tied to palm trees, hand painted signs advertising everything from BARBECUE to COCKTAILS to PANCAKES WESTERN STYLE and free range cows and chickens roaming around advertised the authenticity of the place. The little old Cambodian woman who silently led us to the open bungalows was probably getting paid $10 an hour from Fox studios.The bungalows were tiny shacks with a porch complete with hammock and one large room with a thin mattress and mosquito netting. Two of the girls got the last bungalow with a "bathroom"- a small closet with not so much a hole in the ground as a few planks of wood to balance on over the open space. They also had something akin to a showerhead. Marianne and I got a room with no bathroom, for $1 less, and the privilege of walking about 20 yards to an outhouse so vile, and so full of melon-sized spiders that we all just went outside behind our shacks (yes, including me).
There are probably about 30 people who live on Rabbit Island, the other 30 are just visitors. I say 30 because I am assuming that there are people we didn’t see somewhere. We were thrilled when we first sat down at the “restaurant”- a few tables and chairs under a slightly larger thatched roof- and saw that we could get a bucket of large crabs for $5 along with other delicious options. Sadly, we were misled.Three hours after ordering (I wish I was exaggerating) I got a small plate of sad looking crabs, another girl got the samed size plate (we later realized that all of the plates are the same size but you pay for whatever size you said you wanted…) of rubbery squid, and the only good things were the shrimp (delicious) and any dish with noodles, the noodles being Top Ramen with things mixed into it (egg, veggies, chicken, etc.).
After equally terrible meals at the restaurant next door (there are about 5 guesthouses with the exact same business model), which was supposed to have slightly better food, but didn’t, we realized that they were all cooking on two skillets over fire. Real fire. Which is why it took so long. And they never brought out one dish until all of them were done, which is why our food was always so cold. 
Other than the food, which, at three hours per order tends to take up most of your day, all there was to do on the island was to enjoy the small part of the island that wasn’t jungle. We read, slept, chilled in hammocks, were serenaded by Jimmy, the Johnny Depp/Jack Sparrow of the group, swam in the ocean- where several people were stung by jellyfish. The non-paralyzing kind. It turns out, urine really does work, but I’m not speaking from personal experience. Overall, the setting was idyllic. It was exactly like Leo DiCaprio’s first day on The Beach, except without the pot smuggling armies and the crazy British lady who runs a cult. But, who knows? We really didn’t explore that much of the island.On Sunday morning we headed out. Several of us had to be at work on Monday and the rest were going to chill in Kampot. Our return boat didn’t show up and after a few moments that were more tense and confusing than they needed to be, we were on our way in a new boat. The winds were getting high at this point and we could see the clouds coming in. Our fisherman was moving quickly and as a result, we ended up getting completely soaking wet on the return! It was quite an adventurous ride, capped off by the five foot jump from the boat to the dock. I scratched my leg a bit but no worries! I always carry Neosporin. :-D
After changing into dry clothes, we sat around waiting for the bus. We were starving, and just when I got so desperate that I commented out loud that I would kill for a McDonald’s, the gods must have heard me because a little man with a food cart moto drove by on the road. I yelled, “food passing!” and, with the instincts of a true entrepreneur, he turned the corner and stopped right in front of us. This turned out to be the smartest thing he had ever done because by the time he finished, he had served about 25 people. Of course, at least 22 of those people didn’t know what he was serving, but we really didn’t care either. The food on the cart was a sweet bread in the shape of a subway sandwich, that he filled with something like cream cheese frosting and a yellow shaved substance that looked like fuzzy coconut flakes. This was waaayyy too sweet for me, and I just ate the bread, happily. He also served a delicious cold spiced tea (sort of like Cambodian Good Earth tea) in- and this is the where the man’s true genius comes to light- tiny plastic bags with ice cubes and a straw. Drink in a bag? Awesome! Happily filled, we all got on the bus. This one was freezing and featured extremely loud Khmer karaoke and two middle-aged white men getting cozy with Cambodian girls less than half their age who spoke almost no English. Nice.After one more stop at the rest area, we were home. Jack picked us up at the bus station and we drove all the girls home, stopped at a café so I could get my ticket to the U.S. Embassy’s July 4 party (yaay! My favourite holiday!) and then finally to #27, so I could take a desperately needed shower, order Indian from Sher-E-Punjab, my new favourite Indian restaurant, and pack for a week away.
Like I said, what a weekend!
Next up: A retreat in Battambang, Siem Reap and ANGKOR WAT!!! If you haven't subscribed yet, now is the time to do so. It's getting good people! And welcome to all the new subscribers!!
Travel well, I am!
kat
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Travel well, I am!
kat
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Tuesday, June 9, 2009
This is Real
I wrote the article below last night and was going to wait to post it, but after a meeting that was just held here at the office, it couldn't be more appropriate right now.
All of the staff was just called together for a meeting with the local UNICEF director. He announced that a woman who I've never met, the ex-director of education here at UNICEF Cambodia and the current director of education at UNICEF Pakistan was killed in the Peshawar car bombing.
This woman had dedicated her life to helping children receive the educations that they so desperately need. She was in Pakistan implementing programmes to help girls get educations even after they had been displaced by the recent fighting. That's amazing. That's exactly what I want to do. And yet, her death is a reminder that it's not an adventure and it is not a game. That all of the UN security trainings that I made fun of are terrifying for a reason. Because these things really happen. This makes the post I wrote below much more real and important than the light-hearted flight of fancy that I wrote it to be. There are people every day risking their lives to help people in parts of the world most of us wouldn't go to if even if we could find it on a map. Say what you want about the UN, their people are almost always the first in line. Is that something that I can do? What if that meeting had been for me? Is that a risk I am willing to take? These are decisions that I have to make, because this is real.
Perhaps Kimsray said it best, "I didn't even know her but I still feel very sad. But I'm so proud of them. Even though they know that country is very dangerous, they still go just to help people. I want to tell all of the sisters and my classmates about that".
And so we should.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Revolution Will Not Be Televised
After a pleasant evening at FCC, enjoying happy hour, post-happy hour, and a fascinating conversation with a real, live journalist who has worked everywhere from Phnom Penh to Somalia to LA and back, I headed home after negotiating my way around a flank of tuk-tuk and moto drivers. As my Chosen One proved to have an affinity for driving against oncoming traffic and clipping curbs, I began to rethink my life decisions.
Many times while planning my Cambodia trip I remarked to myself and others that I wish I had chosen somewhere more extreme, as every time I brought up Cambodia, everyone in the room seemed to have already been. At the same time I have been fantasizing about working for UNICEF in Somalia, dedicating my life (or at least my 20s) to educating children living in conflict zones, first Somalia, then Afghanistan, then Pakistan and possibly on to Columbia or somewhere else that has been featured on an MSNBC special. But after tonight's conversation, and the harrowing drive, I couldn’t help but think about death. Not my death, necessarily, although that's certainly something to be considered, but the death of my morals. The death of all of our deep and intrinsic humanity. How much do we want to visit these terrifying places, to volunteer in death traps, because we really care about people, or because we’re all so addicted to the Next Great Adventure? When we see stories on CNN about refugee camps in Sudan, do we want to go because we are honestly passionate about the plight of women and children who have lost everything except their lives, or are we dreaming about working for UNHCR because it seems vaguely reminiscent of the latest Lara Croft film? Do we imagine ourselves running through the desert, Janjaweed at our backs and orphaned children in our arms because we're prepared to take on any situation, or because we’re also imagining Oprah and a news crew greeting us at the embassy?
Do we really think life is like a reality show?
Lately, I have been questioning my own motives. Why am I really passionate about international development? Because I can tell everyone back home that I’m living in Asia? Because I can travel to places that others have only dreamed about? Because it legitimizes me in some way, makes me feel better than my classmates who choose to earn an honest (or not-so honest) living at a law firm, working 9-5 (or 5-9) in a glorified cubicle?
I honestly don’t know sometimes.
And does it matter? Do the ends justify the means? Do the results justify the intentions? As long as I’m building a tent, does it matter that I’m only there to take pictures with the refugees?
I don’t know. Maybe I do it for all of these reasons. I really do get passionately angry whenever I see, hear, or read about an injustice, but then again, who doesn’t? I really do want to make a difference with my life. But there’s nobody out there saying they want to die forgotten and unimportant. And I really would like to make my classmates jealous. But I guess that’s normal too. The fact is, we all have to make a choice. We all can make a difference. Some of us will make it in the board room, some in the cubicle, some in the jungles, and some in the White House. The point is that we do it.
And there isn’t a CEO, manager, soldier, or President, who isn’t at least a little happy that someone, somewhere, is jealous.
**This post is in honour of all of the UN and humanitarian workers who have given their lives in the pursuit of making a better world.**
kat
All of the staff was just called together for a meeting with the local UNICEF director. He announced that a woman who I've never met, the ex-director of education here at UNICEF Cambodia and the current director of education at UNICEF Pakistan was killed in the Peshawar car bombing.
This woman had dedicated her life to helping children receive the educations that they so desperately need. She was in Pakistan implementing programmes to help girls get educations even after they had been displaced by the recent fighting. That's amazing. That's exactly what I want to do. And yet, her death is a reminder that it's not an adventure and it is not a game. That all of the UN security trainings that I made fun of are terrifying for a reason. Because these things really happen. This makes the post I wrote below much more real and important than the light-hearted flight of fancy that I wrote it to be. There are people every day risking their lives to help people in parts of the world most of us wouldn't go to if even if we could find it on a map. Say what you want about the UN, their people are almost always the first in line. Is that something that I can do? What if that meeting had been for me? Is that a risk I am willing to take? These are decisions that I have to make, because this is real.
Perhaps Kimsray said it best, "I didn't even know her but I still feel very sad. But I'm so proud of them. Even though they know that country is very dangerous, they still go just to help people. I want to tell all of the sisters and my classmates about that".
And so we should.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Revolution Will Not Be Televised
After a pleasant evening at FCC, enjoying happy hour, post-happy hour, and a fascinating conversation with a real, live journalist who has worked everywhere from Phnom Penh to Somalia to LA and back, I headed home after negotiating my way around a flank of tuk-tuk and moto drivers. As my Chosen One proved to have an affinity for driving against oncoming traffic and clipping curbs, I began to rethink my life decisions.
Many times while planning my Cambodia trip I remarked to myself and others that I wish I had chosen somewhere more extreme, as every time I brought up Cambodia, everyone in the room seemed to have already been. At the same time I have been fantasizing about working for UNICEF in Somalia, dedicating my life (or at least my 20s) to educating children living in conflict zones, first Somalia, then Afghanistan, then Pakistan and possibly on to Columbia or somewhere else that has been featured on an MSNBC special. But after tonight's conversation, and the harrowing drive, I couldn’t help but think about death. Not my death, necessarily, although that's certainly something to be considered, but the death of my morals. The death of all of our deep and intrinsic humanity. How much do we want to visit these terrifying places, to volunteer in death traps, because we really care about people, or because we’re all so addicted to the Next Great Adventure? When we see stories on CNN about refugee camps in Sudan, do we want to go because we are honestly passionate about the plight of women and children who have lost everything except their lives, or are we dreaming about working for UNHCR because it seems vaguely reminiscent of the latest Lara Croft film? Do we imagine ourselves running through the desert, Janjaweed at our backs and orphaned children in our arms because we're prepared to take on any situation, or because we’re also imagining Oprah and a news crew greeting us at the embassy?
Do we really think life is like a reality show?
Lately, I have been questioning my own motives. Why am I really passionate about international development? Because I can tell everyone back home that I’m living in Asia? Because I can travel to places that others have only dreamed about? Because it legitimizes me in some way, makes me feel better than my classmates who choose to earn an honest (or not-so honest) living at a law firm, working 9-5 (or 5-9) in a glorified cubicle?
I honestly don’t know sometimes.
And does it matter? Do the ends justify the means? Do the results justify the intentions? As long as I’m building a tent, does it matter that I’m only there to take pictures with the refugees?
I don’t know. Maybe I do it for all of these reasons. I really do get passionately angry whenever I see, hear, or read about an injustice, but then again, who doesn’t? I really do want to make a difference with my life. But there’s nobody out there saying they want to die forgotten and unimportant. And I really would like to make my classmates jealous. But I guess that’s normal too. The fact is, we all have to make a choice. We all can make a difference. Some of us will make it in the board room, some in the cubicle, some in the jungles, and some in the White House. The point is that we do it.
And there isn’t a CEO, manager, soldier, or President, who isn’t at least a little happy that someone, somewhere, is jealous.
**This post is in honour of all of the UN and humanitarian workers who have given their lives in the pursuit of making a better world.**
kat
I'm not Monolingual, I'm Linguistically Challenged
I have to make a confession too embarrassing to admit out loud, and yet I must: I am one of those awful Americans who only speaks English.
OMG, I want to die. Do you hate me?
This has always been a point of mortification for me. I mean, I spoke German beautifully when I was young, but that’s gone, I’ve studied millions of languages, but I don’t remember word one of any of them, and though I’ve been working on French off and on for years now, I couldn’t hold a conversation with a Parisian toddler.
I hated myself for this massive deficiency before but now that I’m in NGO land, where everyone speaks two or three or twelve languages, I’m more out of place than Fluffy, the three-headed dog. Not a day goes by that at least one person (even Americans!) don’t look at me sideways when I am forced to admit that I only speak English. Even the Cambodians often speak Khmer, English, a little bit of Thai and a little bit of Vietnamese. In fact, I can’t even work for the UN if I don’t speak at least two UN languages! My entire life goals, not to mention dignity and self-respect, are being held back because of a basic skill that everyone should have. I can’t live with myself any longer. Bridge, here I come.
I tried to begin to remedy the situation while here in PP in two ways. First, I put out a notice seeking a French tutor. While I got a few offers, I have here the same problem here that I have everywhere (and a big reason why I don’t have the skills), no money for lessons. I may have to figure out what I can cut in order to afford it. I also went to one of the many bootleg CD/DVD/CD-ROM shops and bought a copy of the French Rosetta Stone for $3, saving myself $294. Sadly, it turned out to be Turkish.
I have to do something about this. I can’t even think about beginning my career until I speak at least French but really, Spanish and a little of either Chinese or Arabic as well. I may have to put my goal of moving to Jordan after law school on hold for a little while and go live in France first. If I get French under my belt, then go live in Jordan and learn Arabic, I’ll be able to pick up the other romance languages (I have the easiest time with Italian) and recover my dignity from the black hole in which it now sits. Only then will I have any chance at all at a future in international development.
Sigh.
Travel well, and learn a language!!
kat
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OMG, I want to die. Do you hate me?
This has always been a point of mortification for me. I mean, I spoke German beautifully when I was young, but that’s gone, I’ve studied millions of languages, but I don’t remember word one of any of them, and though I’ve been working on French off and on for years now, I couldn’t hold a conversation with a Parisian toddler.
I hated myself for this massive deficiency before but now that I’m in NGO land, where everyone speaks two or three or twelve languages, I’m more out of place than Fluffy, the three-headed dog. Not a day goes by that at least one person (even Americans!) don’t look at me sideways when I am forced to admit that I only speak English. Even the Cambodians often speak Khmer, English, a little bit of Thai and a little bit of Vietnamese. In fact, I can’t even work for the UN if I don’t speak at least two UN languages! My entire life goals, not to mention dignity and self-respect, are being held back because of a basic skill that everyone should have. I can’t live with myself any longer. Bridge, here I come.
I tried to begin to remedy the situation while here in PP in two ways. First, I put out a notice seeking a French tutor. While I got a few offers, I have here the same problem here that I have everywhere (and a big reason why I don’t have the skills), no money for lessons. I may have to figure out what I can cut in order to afford it. I also went to one of the many bootleg CD/DVD/CD-ROM shops and bought a copy of the French Rosetta Stone for $3, saving myself $294. Sadly, it turned out to be Turkish.
I have to do something about this. I can’t even think about beginning my career until I speak at least French but really, Spanish and a little of either Chinese or Arabic as well. I may have to put my goal of moving to Jordan after law school on hold for a little while and go live in France first. If I get French under my belt, then go live in Jordan and learn Arabic, I’ll be able to pick up the other romance languages (I have the easiest time with Italian) and recover my dignity from the black hole in which it now sits. Only then will I have any chance at all at a future in international development.
Sigh.
Travel well, and learn a language!!
kat
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Saturday, June 6, 2009
House and Garden- Phnom Penh Edition
I have a new apartment! I'm so excited. The guesthouse (The Blue Dog on st 51) was okay, great for short term. Clean, friendly, fantastic location, $5-7 a night. But for long term, you're basically paying $200 a month for a bed and a room with no A/C. Not to mention the exorbitant amount of money I was spending on food. Eating out 3x a day gets pricey, even in Phnom Penh.
So, I searched diligently on Expat-Advisory, toured a couple of apartments with a realtor, including a few beautiful ones that I wish I could afford. After a few days I saw a message about an apartment available a few blocks from the blue dog for just about the right price. I called, I visited, I took it. I have two roommates, which I'm thrilled about, L from Spain who's doing an internship with the World Food Programme and A from Australia, the lifestyle editor for a local paper. The apartment is very outdoors-oriented, like everything in Cambodia. An open balcony housing an enclosed living room (with cable TV, yaay!), and three bedrooms, each with their own bathroom. Also a kitchen, of course.
With the help of Kimsray and Jack, I moved in this morning. Poor Jack had to carry my heavy suitcase up two flights of stairs!! Later, Kimsray and I took pictures of the place. I present them to you now:
The balcony
View from the balcony
The outdoor dining room table
Kimsray and the closet
I have my own bathroom!
I'll keep you updated on the goings on of the apartment!
Travel well!
kat
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So, I searched diligently on Expat-Advisory, toured a couple of apartments with a realtor, including a few beautiful ones that I wish I could afford. After a few days I saw a message about an apartment available a few blocks from the blue dog for just about the right price. I called, I visited, I took it. I have two roommates, which I'm thrilled about, L from Spain who's doing an internship with the World Food Programme and A from Australia, the lifestyle editor for a local paper. The apartment is very outdoors-oriented, like everything in Cambodia. An open balcony housing an enclosed living room (with cable TV, yaay!), and three bedrooms, each with their own bathroom. Also a kitchen, of course.
With the help of Kimsray and Jack, I moved in this morning. Poor Jack had to carry my heavy suitcase up two flights of stairs!! Later, Kimsray and I took pictures of the place. I present them to you now:
The balcony
View from the balcony
The outdoor dining room table
Kimsray and the closet
I have my own bathroom!
I'll keep you updated on the goings on of the apartment!
Travel well!
kat
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Thursday, June 4, 2009
My favourite things
What do Sex and the City, the No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency and Cambodia all have in common? I’ll give you a hint. Carrie Bradshaw may have obsessed about where to buy them, what to wear with them, and how much to spend on them, but she never doubted that she would actually have them. In No. 1 Ladies, Mma Makutsi’s often speak to her, bucking her up, criticizing her actions, or complaining about their lot in life. And in Cambodia, children quite often go without them.Shoes.
Shoes play a central role in our lives (and not just because they’re pretty). Although the fact that we have them is generally taken for granted, not many of us would want to go a day without shoes, unless that day is on the beach.
Unlike Singapore, Kensington, and Mayberry, the streets of Phnom Penh are filthy. Trash bags line the sidewalks, along with all of the garbage that didn’t make it into them. Stray dogs and cats find fire hydrants and litter boxes wherever they want to and there is no one to pick it up in cute little bags. The chances of stepping on something disgusting or worse, dangerous, are high, and yet babies and children frequently walk around barefoot, and often naked. Not only that, but the children who do have shoes are not sporting light up Nikes with built-in arch supports. They’re wearing flimsy, 50 cent versions of crocs and flip-flops that disintegrate on their feet. Even if these kids don’t step on a nail or get feces in an abrasion, they’ll have horrible shin and foot problems for the rest of their lives.
This is why I love Tom’s. For every pair of Tom’s sold, they give a pair to a child who needs them. It’s pretty amazing. Locally, a great NGO in Cambodia that works hard for street children is Friends International. I highly recommend making a donation. Think about it, for less than a pair of Manolos, you can save a child’s life, or at least their foot.
Travel well!
kat
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Photo Courtesy of Pinkballer.ning.com
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Teaching in the Provinces
I've told you about Kimsray, the secretarial intern at UNICEF who is, at the moment, my only friend in Phnom Penh. Kimsray is amazing. She's lived a life that is a common story in Cambodia but has an uncommon ending. Well, middle, because her story is not over yet. Born as a fatherless child in one of the provinces, Kimsray alternated between living with her mother, aunt, and a missionary family while her mother went away to the city to work. Exceptionally bright and ambitious, Kimsray was a good student and hard worker in her small hometown. After high school, she came to Phnom Penh to apply to the Salesian Sisters of Don Bosco Vocational Training Centre for Girls. Out of over 300 applicants, Kimsray and 49 other girls were accepted. The tuition is $25 per year but is need based, with most of the girls paying $0-5. This grants them entree into a school where they will be taught a valuable skill, and taught well, and will almost certainly lead to a good paying job after graduation.The Sisters are amazing women, uncommonly kind and self-sacrificing, they welcomed me with open arms just as they have welcomed countless young women since they opened their doors in 1993. The nuns come from all over the world, assigned to Cambodia by the church after choosing to become missionaries. They are in it for the long haul, one of the nuns has been serving in Cambodia since 1945!
Every Sunday, Kimsray and the other girls from her school go to the provinces to teach English. This Sunday I went with her. After riding on the back of a bike (which I have never been brave enough to do anywhere, particularly at 6am on a Sunday in Phnom Penh) we ended up at the school. The girls in my group (they teach in five different provinces) and I all packed into the back of a truck. The truck was particularly ingenious, covered with a tarp and fitted with 2x4s that served as benches. After a long, bumpy country ride, we finally reached Takeo Province. The school, or "centre" as they call it, is a long, one-level building consisting of about 6 classrooms. Everyone in Cambodia is always excited and intrigued when they meet me, or any black person, and the students were no different. The children all gathered in a group and sang a few welcome songs to me, and then broke up into groups.The vocational students are in charge of every bit of the program, from planning to teaching to coordination. One second year student is voted to be the principal of sorts, and this years' will probably be prime minister someday. She took me around to every class where I was introduced again, got a run down of what each class was learning, and then thwarted the children's English capabilities forever by teaching a mini-lesson (of which I had absolutely no warning). I felt more like a visiting dignitary than a poor law student. Unfortunately, the children have learned English from girls who don't speak it very well themselves, and they couldn't understand a word I was saying!! Turns out, they've never heard English without a heavy Khmer accent!
After a few hours, we returned to the truck laden with watermelons. It's harvest time and the only way that the students and parents can thank the teachers is by giving them watermelons, so we brought dozens back with us. They provided hearty eating on the way home.
Once back, I met one of the girls' teachers, a very cool Canadian woman, and she and the nuns invited me to lunch with them, rather than the students. Over a fantastic Indian meal I learned more about the history of the Salesian Sisters, Don Bosco, and the school. The nuns also decided that I would come back every Sunday and see all of the rest of the centres. I readily agreed. This means I can't go on any weekend trips until they're done teaching, in late June, but Angkor Wat has been there for 1,000 years, I think it will survive for a few more weeks.
I will be definitely be writing more about Kimsray, the nuns, and the provincial schools. I will also be adding posts about where and how you can donate to the schools, along with compelling reasons why you should ;-), so subscribe if you haven't and keep in touch!
Travel well,
kat
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The Princess and the Sheets
There are things that I am just picky about. Things that I just refuse to compromise on, no shame, no apologies. Linens are at the top of that list. Maybe it's just because we always had good linens at home, but there is just no excuse for shoddy, threadbare, uncomfortable sheets, towels, pillowcases, you name it. I hate them if they're not soft and of a decent threadcount. I really feel that this is reasonable, and anyone who followed my trip to Miami will not be surprised.While planning my trip to SE Asia, I knew that my poverty made the likelihood of my having to stay at more than one undesirable hostel incredibly high. I had to do something. But, I was also trying to pack one suitcase for 9 months, so whatever I did, it had to be small. Luckily, I found a Cocoon.
Cocoons are amazing. They are silky soft (they have other fabrics but I chose the highly recommended and well reviewed silk) travel sheets that only weight 4.7ounces. These sheets are sewn together on both sides and are long enough to cover a pillow (so I can stop sleeping on my lingerie bag). They dry quickly (let's face it, it's sweaty in Cambodia), and they slide easily into a sleeping bag if you own one (I don't). In short, they're a godsend.
The guesthouse that I am staying in, which I haven't written much about but i will definitely get to, is lovely... nice... adequate. But, predictably, the sheets are a nightmare. Thank God for my cocoon. I would never be able to sleep without it, but with it, I slip comfortably into silk sheets and onto a silk pillowcase every night and sleep soundly. Well, not really, but because of the karaoke bar next door, the birds making strange noises, and the hundreds of stray dogs, not the sheets.
If you are traveling from Ritz to Ritz, ignore this post. However, if, like me, you are always five dollars from begging, get yourself a Cocoon (spend the money, it's worth it), and pass those hostel nights in relative comfort.
While you're at it, grab a microfiber travel towel, also only a few ounces, and use those atrocious hostel towels as bath mats and door stuffers.
Travel well!
kat
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Tuesday, June 2, 2009
A Christmas Miracle (in June)
I had one of those pivotal experiences today, the ones that change the trajectory of your travel experience for the better, the ones that hit you unexpectedly as a novice adventuress, but that, with experience, one learns to foresee, and maybe even expect.
It goes like this:
After a fantastic day at work, including a fabulous lunch with one Z, daughter of Kenya, mistress of HR. She's fabulous and I'm so happy I've met her. I also increased my learning curve by about 5,000 yet again after another meeting with the MoJ (Ministry of Justice). And I am slowly going blind from all of these UN CD-ROM trainings but at least the security ones are done so I no longer have to watch simulations of UN employees being shot, bombed, and taken hostage.
So it was a good day.
After another harrowing ride on Jack's tuk-tuk (which does not get easier, btw), I got back to the guesthouse and decided to head straight to dinner. Hungry was I. Since I am desperately trying to save money on food (I'm looking at apartments tomorrow, I think life will be cheaper if I can stop eating out 3x a day. So far, I'm more over-budget than I am comfortable with), I went to Setsara. $3 for delicious fried rice with pineapple, cashews, raisins, etc. or $4 for yummy curry with steamed rice. I sat down with my computer, ordered my fried rice and $1 iced jasmine tea, and settled down to a good episode of Star Trek, The Original Series.
I saw, out of the corner of my eye, my jasmine tea wobble a bit on the bamboo place mat, and I thought to myself (in the back of my head, mind you), I thought, "Self. You should move that glass." But did I? No. Kirk was just discovering that a giant robot was eating planets and I was intrigued.
"Kirk here."
"Spock here, Captain. Unable to raise Starfleet Command due to heavy subspace interference. Attempting to remedy."
(wobble, wobble)
"What about the Constellation's tapes?"
"She was attacked by what appears to be essentially a robot. An automated weapon of immense size and power. It's apparent function is to-"
CRASH!!
Would you like a little tea with your Apple?
"Shit shit shit shittity shit." That was me, not Kirk, although the sentiment would have been appropriate for him as well.
My tea was all over my computer, ice and all.
Fabulous.
Freaking out, I grabbed all of the napkins on the table, which, unfortunately in Cambodia amounts to little more than a box of tissues. The waiter casually sauntered over and I asked him for a towel, pulling out my battery and shaking out my computer as best I could. I got the rest of my dinner to go, paid the bill ($4.25) and ran out the door.
Once back in the guesthouse, I laid my Mac on one of the three beds, on top of some plastic bags, and, setting the fan on Full Speed Ahead, positioned it right in front of the laptop.
But what to do now?
I have already read two books, so I went down to the give-and-take bookshelf to see if there was anything good. There was. In Khmer, German, and I think Dutch. The only thing in English was Isaac Asimov's Prelude to Foundation. Now, I'm as much a sci-fi fan as the next geek, but I can't read it at night. Nightmares. So I decided to go downstairs and see what's up.
Downstairs I found one of the many members of the family who live somewhere in the guesthouse, Kok. This kid is pretty cool, ambiguous age, good sense of humour, nice guy. We talked for a while and then Ty, the owner of the guesthouse and Kok's brother-in-law came down to join us. This is probably the first time that I've really sat down and spoken to the fam and they were very cool. Then a French couple staying in the guest house saw us sitting downstairs and joined us, ordering dinner. I have never eaten here, since that means that I would really never leave the guest house, but apparently the food is pretty good.
We sat for a few hours talking and getting to know each other and a few more people from the fam joined and it was great. I had to stop myself from laughing when Ty said, "Your English is very good. What nationality are you?" I then had to explain to Kok that yes, I really am black. Apparently "black" and "brown" are serious distinctions in Cambodia and he refused to accept that either I or Barack Obama could possibly be black. Sigh.
The evening was great, plus I could assuage my guilt from being too hot and exhausted by the time I get home from work to do anything but lay on my bed in front of a fan and watch James Bond.
After a few hours, everyone turned in. I came upstairs, anxious to see what I would find. Apprehensively, I picked up my computer, plugged it in, turned it on, et voila!!!!! It's working!!
Woo to the hoo people!!
This is a testimony to a) why Macs are the greatest things ever invented, sliced bread be darned, b) why I should read while I eat and not boldly go where no man has gone before next to a plate of fried rice and an iced tea, and c) why short term living is the best. You have time to get acclimated to the environment and the time zone, do good work for the community, learn more than superficially about a new place, and make friends slowly, rather than trying to fit it all in at once like summer camp.
Yaay for traveling! Yaay for Macs! Just Yaay!!!
Travel well (and take care of your laptop!)
kat
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It goes like this:
After a fantastic day at work, including a fabulous lunch with one Z, daughter of Kenya, mistress of HR. She's fabulous and I'm so happy I've met her. I also increased my learning curve by about 5,000 yet again after another meeting with the MoJ (Ministry of Justice). And I am slowly going blind from all of these UN CD-ROM trainings but at least the security ones are done so I no longer have to watch simulations of UN employees being shot, bombed, and taken hostage.
So it was a good day.
After another harrowing ride on Jack's tuk-tuk (which does not get easier, btw), I got back to the guesthouse and decided to head straight to dinner. Hungry was I. Since I am desperately trying to save money on food (I'm looking at apartments tomorrow, I think life will be cheaper if I can stop eating out 3x a day. So far, I'm more over-budget than I am comfortable with), I went to Setsara. $3 for delicious fried rice with pineapple, cashews, raisins, etc. or $4 for yummy curry with steamed rice. I sat down with my computer, ordered my fried rice and $1 iced jasmine tea, and settled down to a good episode of Star Trek, The Original Series.
I saw, out of the corner of my eye, my jasmine tea wobble a bit on the bamboo place mat, and I thought to myself (in the back of my head, mind you), I thought, "Self. You should move that glass." But did I? No. Kirk was just discovering that a giant robot was eating planets and I was intrigued.
"Kirk here."
"Spock here, Captain. Unable to raise Starfleet Command due to heavy subspace interference. Attempting to remedy."
(wobble, wobble)
"What about the Constellation's tapes?"
"She was attacked by what appears to be essentially a robot. An automated weapon of immense size and power. It's apparent function is to-"
CRASH!!
Would you like a little tea with your Apple?
"Shit shit shit shittity shit." That was me, not Kirk, although the sentiment would have been appropriate for him as well.
My tea was all over my computer, ice and all.
Fabulous.
Freaking out, I grabbed all of the napkins on the table, which, unfortunately in Cambodia amounts to little more than a box of tissues. The waiter casually sauntered over and I asked him for a towel, pulling out my battery and shaking out my computer as best I could. I got the rest of my dinner to go, paid the bill ($4.25) and ran out the door.
Once back in the guesthouse, I laid my Mac on one of the three beds, on top of some plastic bags, and, setting the fan on Full Speed Ahead, positioned it right in front of the laptop.
But what to do now?
I have already read two books, so I went down to the give-and-take bookshelf to see if there was anything good. There was. In Khmer, German, and I think Dutch. The only thing in English was Isaac Asimov's Prelude to Foundation. Now, I'm as much a sci-fi fan as the next geek, but I can't read it at night. Nightmares. So I decided to go downstairs and see what's up.
Downstairs I found one of the many members of the family who live somewhere in the guesthouse, Kok. This kid is pretty cool, ambiguous age, good sense of humour, nice guy. We talked for a while and then Ty, the owner of the guesthouse and Kok's brother-in-law came down to join us. This is probably the first time that I've really sat down and spoken to the fam and they were very cool. Then a French couple staying in the guest house saw us sitting downstairs and joined us, ordering dinner. I have never eaten here, since that means that I would really never leave the guest house, but apparently the food is pretty good.
We sat for a few hours talking and getting to know each other and a few more people from the fam joined and it was great. I had to stop myself from laughing when Ty said, "Your English is very good. What nationality are you?" I then had to explain to Kok that yes, I really am black. Apparently "black" and "brown" are serious distinctions in Cambodia and he refused to accept that either I or Barack Obama could possibly be black. Sigh.
The evening was great, plus I could assuage my guilt from being too hot and exhausted by the time I get home from work to do anything but lay on my bed in front of a fan and watch James Bond.
After a few hours, everyone turned in. I came upstairs, anxious to see what I would find. Apprehensively, I picked up my computer, plugged it in, turned it on, et voila!!!!! It's working!!
Woo to the hoo people!!
This is a testimony to a) why Macs are the greatest things ever invented, sliced bread be darned, b) why I should read while I eat and not boldly go where no man has gone before next to a plate of fried rice and an iced tea, and c) why short term living is the best. You have time to get acclimated to the environment and the time zone, do good work for the community, learn more than superficially about a new place, and make friends slowly, rather than trying to fit it all in at once like summer camp.
Yaay for traveling! Yaay for Macs! Just Yaay!!!
Travel well (and take care of your laptop!)
kat
Like this post? Subscribe for more travel tips, stories, and reviews!
Monday, June 1, 2009
A Sobering Afternoon
I haven't said too much about some of my initial, and more serious, impressions of Cambodia because I have wanted to find out more before I started philosophizing and imparting grand theories on things of which I know nothing. This is not to say that in a week and a half I have suddenly become an expert on anything, only that I feel that I can now give my opinions (which I'm sure will change and grow) and thereby keep you in the loop. I think first impressions are just as important as last, and that it is as important to know how someone feels when they first get to a place as it is to know where they stand when they leave. That being said, today I visited the Killing Fields.The one thing that has stood out in my mind more than almost anything else since the moment I stepped foot in the Phnom Penh airport and saw the long line of uniformed men standing behind a counter, waiting to stamp my passport, is that this is a nation that just got out of a war. And not just a war. A genocide. Everyone over 16 here lived during the days of Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge (they weren't finally expelled until 1998, although their reign officially ended much sooner). Everyone over 30 remembers those days vividly. They worked in the fields, their fathers and mothers and siblings were tortured and killed, some of them were forced to be members of the "revolutionary" army. The entire nation is suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (the results of which are part of the very projects that I'm working on at UNICEF) and it is stunning to witness.
The ongoing trial for one of the men at the head of the movement, a man known as Duch, the commander in charge of the horrendous prison known as S-21, the old high school where 20,000 men, women, and children were tortured and killed, is a daily reminder of the justice that the people of Cambodia have yet to get. Pol Pot, the father of the revolution, died of illness before he could be tried. Well, the officials say illness, but the Cambodians don't believe it. The Killing Fields, the mass graves of thousands and thousands of innocent Cambodians (over 2 million were killed) was privatized by the government and now the Japanese run it and charge admission fees (though not of Cambodians, thank goodness). They also charge foreigners to visit S-21, now known as the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum.
The Khmer Rouge killed anyone educated in the nation (ironic, since the idea for the ultra-communist party came to a bunch of privileged Cambodian boys studying in France). Their goal was to create an agrarian society where everyone was equal. Well, everyone except them, of course. The problems with this are obvious. Not only were uneducated men running the country then (well, whatever was left of it, they burned the money, closed down schools, hospitals, and just about everything else), but the repercussions mean that when the nation finally got on its feet again, most of the people trying to rebuild had no experience or education. When the new parliament started, the UN had to teach the legislators how to write laws. The education system is a shambles because there are no teachers. And the justice system is a disaster, they only just started a law school a few years ago. One of the quotes in the museum said that the Khmer Rouge didn't care about their nation because they killed everyone who could run it. That couldn't be more true. I couldn't help but compare this genocide with the other that we are all so familiar with, that of the Jews that led to World War II. We fought that war because Hitler invaded, because his goal was to mimic Napolean and because we had no choice. And I can't help but wonder, if the Pol Pot had wanted to do the same, if he had invaded Thailand, or Vietnam, if he had tried to start a war, would we have stopped him? Would we have had World War III in 1978? We didn't help the Rwandans. We sure as hell aren't doing shit for the Sudanese. Would we have cared about the Cambodians if they had threatened our shores? Because in 1978, when my mother was starting her freshman year at Mount Holyoke College and America was safe, 2 million people were being brutally tortured and murdered and their bodies tossed into mass graves like so many rag dolls. How many more times does this have to happen before we finally do something?
Now, this nation is being run by NGOs. There are hundreds and hundreds of NGOs in this country, involved in every possible aspect of running a sovereign state. The recovery will take a hundred years. Their genocide museum is not a large and beautiful glass marvel like the Holocaust Museum in Washington D.C. It is an old, cinderblock high school, simple, with the actual beds where men were tortured, the black and white pictures of just a fraction of the victims, and skulls. Thousands of skulls.
What will Sudan's museum look like? And will anybody care enough to visit?
kat
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