FINNDEPENDENCE

In honor of our wonderful Finnish co-worker Peppi, the entire PEPY crew summoned their inner-Finn this past Dec. 6, otherwise known as Finland's Day of Independence. Proudly sporting hand-crafted Finn Flag t-shirts and face-paint, we gathered on a rooftop for refreshments before descending on the town and painting it...well white and blue to be perfectly honest. Peppi was kind enough to teach us some essential Finnish phrases which we in turn taught to several moto drivers and the patrons of the Foreign Correspondence Club. Good times.

Mina rakustan suomi!(I love Finland)
Huva-itsanaisu-spyva (sp?) (Happy Independence Day)

New Finnish Friends


A traditional Finnish folk dance.

Mina olen Mikko. Nice to meet you.

Phnom Penh: Tonle Bassac Neighborhood

This is the first time I've lived in a real city. I don't count my university years spent in Raleigh, for it was rather spread out and seemed to have no character at all. While Phnom Penh is far from the most beautiful city I've seen, it has oodles of character--it's not just a place where people reside, but a breathing, pulsing organism.

I am constantly surprised how the posh and the poor exist so close together, quite literally in each others' backyard. I live on a narrow street in a quiet (sometimes) little neighborhood of two and three story French villas, inhabited by foreigners and wealthy Khmers. Spilling over the walls of these homes are the lush limbs of mango trees, stalks of bamboo, and other flowering branches, all shading the littered street below and entangling the knotted electrical lines. Within a 2-minute walk of my front door are a shanty-town, a long row of dilapidated apartments that look to collapse at any moment, a small community of tin-and-brick homes surrounding the pagoda, and a local market of covered wooden stalls cramped together, also looking rather unstable. The market is putrid and rather filthy, and yet curiously wonderful to explore, with tiny salons/nailshops, alongside stalls selling meat on hooks and covered in flies, alongside stalls selling only belts, alongside produce stalls with such treats as dragonfruit and rambutans and miniature bananas.

In the alley just outside our front gate, a group of moto and tuk-tuk drivers and layabouts spend the weekdays hanging out in the shade, hoping for a $1 fare from one of us foreigners. When not lounging on their vehicles, they are gathered in a circle, kneeling or sitting on the street, playing cards and gambling their riel. They are always quick to offer their services ("tuk-tuk suh?"), but are content to exchange a bit of Khmer when I refuse (usually I'm biking/walking). Our short conversations usually don't extend past "How's it going?" and "I'm hungry", but recently they've taken to looking inside my shopping bags when I return from the market, and trying to tell me the Khmer names of everything inside.

This post about living in PP was originally going to be quite long, but I think I'll continue it as a series of vignettes...

Bon Om Touk - The Water Festival

Last weekend held the annual Bon Om Touk Festival in Phnom Penh. The event is commonly called the Water Festival by English-speakers, but I believe it is more correctly translated as the Boat Race Festival. I heard several accounts as to the origin of the celebration--I imagine they all hold some truth. Apparently the races date to ancient times when the king wished to test the strength/speed of his warboats, as well as celebrate the Khmer naval victories. Additionally, the festival is a sort of thanksgiving, as Cambodians show appreciation for the mighty Mekong and Tonle Sap rivers. There was some talk about November being the time of year when the Tonle Sap changes directions and flows upstream?!, but I only heard this from foreigners.



For the festival, some 500 long (20meter) pirogues and their 50-60 person crews gather in Phnom Penh from all over Cambodia, along with hundreds of thousands of folks from the provinces. The city, especially the streets and avenues near the riverfront, becomes choked with people, cart vendors, and motos. The masses gather on the concrete riverbank and for three days, watch the 500 boats compete on the Tonle Sap (to my eyes, still flowing downstream!). All day, pairs of boats, race the 1km course in the center of the river, and upon finishing, move to either bank, and began paddling back upstream to race again. I had a spot right at the finish line, but found I enjoyed watching the boats paddle upstream much more than the races. The crews passed just a few meters in front of me, and were all too eager to exchange hellos, sok sapbais, and smiles.




Many of the boats had a drummer to keep their spirits high, as well as a "character guy", a guy with a mask, or dressed in drag, who entertained his mates and the crowds. Each boat appeared to have two coxswains, one on the bow and stern--during the race the stern-men guide the boat and the bow-men dance to keep the paddlers in rhythm. A few boats had female bow-coxes, and there were a number of boats that had entirely female crews.






It was a gorgeous day, friend Daniela and I enjoyed watching on the riverbank for several hours before relocating to an acquaintance's third-floor apartment terrace, with a grand view of the river and away from the crowds.

Alarm Clock? Transcendence?

I live next to a Buddhist Pagoda. I wake up in the morning to the sound of monks chanting. Everyday. And only this morning did I wake and say "Isn't that peculiar?"

So easy to forget where I am sometimes.

Meeting a Master

A couple days ago I had the opportunity to meet Master Kung Nai, a Khmer musician who has been playing the "chapei dang weng" (a two-string Cambodian lute) since he was a teenager, more than 50 years. Kung Nai went blind at the age of 4 from small pox. You can read a short bio of his life here, and below are my impressions...

Before I met the man and heard him play, I was told he was called the Cambodian Ray Charles, and played the Mekong River Blues. I thought this was a bit contrived, but it didn't take long to understand the references. The man, with his dark shades and easy grin, looks a great deal like Ray Charles. And while the music undoubtedly has unique qualities, it's easy to compare to the early blues of the US south. There is a loneliness and melancholy to his voice that is inescapably bluesy, as well as the banjo-like twang to the chapei.

Miraculously Kung Nai survived the Khmer Rouge regime, a period in which an estimated 90% of Cambodian artists were murdered. He now lives in a filthy, impoverished tin-shack community (home to many artists) in the middle of Phnom Penh, about two blocks from my own neighborhood of walled and gated French villas. This is a man who has performed internationally and has been recognized as a living legend. He seemed perfectly content at his one-room house, surrounded by family and grandkids. For about a half-hour, he entertained a group of us from PEPY, playing several songs in his freestyle improv style. Understanding only a handful of words from his songs, I was nonetheless captivated by his staccato, sing-song voice--it demands attention.

Our group was accompanied by a guide/translator from Cambodian Living Arts, "a project of World Education, which works to support the revival of traditional Khmer performing arts and to inspire contemporary artistic expression. CLA supports arts education, mentorship, networking opportunities, education, career development, and income generating projects for master performing artists who survived the Khmer Rouge as well as the next generation of student artists."


Later in the afternoon, we had the chance to visit an traditional Khmer instrument maker and bang, pluck, and strum his various wares, as well as watch two stunning dance, drama, and song performances from students studying with Cambodian Living Arts. A truly remarkable day.

Sok Sapbai

I had a brilliant week, spent mostly in the Northwestern province of Siem Reap, home to the many temples of Angkor, as well as one of the PEPY schools. I spent three days at the school, helping our wonderful English teacher Tolors and getting to know the students a bit better. The kids never fail to impress--they are bright and eager and grasp English speaking basics with ease. Some of the kids have even invented their own English slang, mimicking the Khmer slang pattern of flip-flopping syllables. For example Sok Sapbai (happy and healthy) becomes Sai Sapbok...in English they transformed "I dunno" into "Oh-dun-nai". Many laughs when I finally caught on...



While I was there a team of PEPY Tours cyclists came through(on their way from the Thai border to Phnom Penh), stopping at the school for a day and night. Everyone enjoyed meeting the students and even helped Tolors teach his evening English class. Good times.

The following day I was able to join the riders as we biked from the rural school to the small city of Siem Reap, about 70km. Gorgeous weather and beautiful flat countryside made the dust kicked up by the passing trucks bearable--biking is absolutely the best way to see a country!


We spent several days in Siem Reap, which is the jumping off point for the Angkor Temples, just kilometers away. Saturday we had a great time mountain biking around the temples--the main roads between the temples have been paved but its easy enough to find some dirt and single-track paths as well. At one point as we're pedalling past a crumbling 1000-yr old structure, the PEPY director turns and says "My life is a 10". Ditto.




The photos, taken from the back of a motorbike in the late afternoon, are from the rural area of Chanleas Dai, home of the PEPY Ride School.

A Pair of Aces

This past week I visited two fortune-tellers, not for any pressing concern of what lies ahead of me, but rather a curiosity of the profession, and the manner in which "seers" see. Following are the accounts of the two very different visits, and the bold and not-so-bold predictions for my future...

For characterization's sake, we'll call the first fortune-teller Dave. I had been bugging my friends Sophanuon and Sofi to take me to a prophesier for several weeks, and they finally agreed to accompany me. Sophanuon knew the place, a man who was well respected and not only saw the future, but healed sick folks and solved others' problems. We arrived to the house about 7 in the evening; there, a group of people were waiting outside with large plates incense, candles and fruit, apparently for an offering. As Dave had not yet arrived, I too bought some incense and candles, and we waited for some time before he showed.

Following the group of folks who had been waiting, we took off our shoes and walked up the wooden stairs to the single small room on the second floor of the house. On the balcony outside the room, there was a small shrine containing a dozen Buddhas of various sizes, all smiling serenely (Have you ever seen a figure of Jesus Christ smiling? If I have I can't remember...). Anyway, copying Sofi, I knelt in front of the largest Buddha and incense pot, put my palms together and closed my eyes, and cleared my mind for a brief moment.

We stepped into the room, about 15 people were seated on the floor along with the collective offerings, all fixated on Dave, a young round-faced man dressed in white silk pajamas and seated on a low platform at the head of the room. I placed my offering in front of the altar with the others, along with several dollars. In the room were dozens more Buddha statues and the walls were hung with posters depicting dozens more. A pungent cloud of incense permeated the space. Around the ceiling was a string of blinking Christmas lights. Coupled with the percussive Buddhist music being played on a small stereo, it made for a rather bizarre setting. This music is often heard here coming from the temples/pagodas, its strangely similar to an ice cream truck's jangly melody.

We took a seat at the back of the small room, and listened while Dave told stories and joked with the visitors. Of course, he spoke only in Khmer, so I understood nearly nothing, but I was happy to observe. After 30 minutes or so, someone cranked the music up, and in an instant Dave began his transformation, channeling the "seer". Still seated, he bent forward placing his forehead on the ground, facing the concentration of Buddhas to his left. He remained motionless for several moments, and the popped up in a flash and began an elaborate series of gestures with his hands and arms. His eyes had rolled back completely, showing only the whites. In an eerie, high-pitched voice, he chanted for several moment before settling and asking the first person to propose a question/request.

I waited my turn while he, one-by-one, answered folks' questions and offered advice. He spoke the entire time in the same eerie voice, almost like a 6 year-old girl, all the while with his eyes rolled back in his head. When it was my turn, Sofi and I moved up to the front of the room, and sat at the base of the platform, within arm's reach of Dave. Sofi introduced me, and politely asked him to see my future regarding work, family, health, love, etc. Dave first asked what year I was born and then took a long look at my palms (not sure how he saw anything though, with his eyes staring at his brain). He spoke in short declarative bursts, though there was an inquisitive wavering to his voice that made it difficult to discern his conviction.

As Sofi could not interrupt his auguring discourse to translate, she relayed it to me much after we had left. We ducked out of the room, receiving smiles from the folks still waiting. I suppose Dave's predictions were much more general than I had anticipated, but the dramatic nature in which he delivered them made the visit most compelling. Following is his prognosis:

1. That I should not leave the Asian continent, good things await me here.
2. That I will be successful in my career, but that my co-workers will continuously give me trouble.
3. Though I am constantly surrounded by female friends, I currently have no love prospects. However, there is a considerable chance that I will be married next year.
4. That I will have good health throughout my life, but it will gradually deteriorate with age (shocking!)
5. Finally he said that he didn't want to see too much, and that I should return in three days.

While I did not go back to see Dave, two days later I did visit another fortune teller, this time a woman of about 50 years with dyed, light-brown hair (we'll call her Rose) who used a pack of playing cards to divine. When we arrived at the house, some young children greeted us and showed us upstairs to their grandmother Rose, in a room with little furniture, save a Buddhist shrine and a sheet-less mattress upon which I sat. Rose wasted little time after the brief introductions, and quickly offered me the cards with a great big grin.

I shuffled and cut upon her instruction; she fanned all the cards out face-down on a small mat in front of the shrine, and asked me to pick one with my left hand, and one with my right. I drew the Ace of Spades and the Ace of Diamonds. Now I realize that utilizing playing cards to predict the future is a bit ludicrous, but if they are indeed the parameters of our prophecy, two Aces are awfully auspicious. Rose, at no loss for opinions, words, or smiles, began to tell me a bit about my life up until this point. She said I began an adventurous life at age 19 (the exact year I went travelling alone for the first time) and had been making my own way ever since, not following the herd. This is quite accurate, but Rose also seemed to think I had been involved in some terrible accident while young, which is not true. She asked me shuffle and cut again, though this time she dealt the cards on the mat face-up and pointed to several, explaining to Sofi their significance. We did this about a half-dozen times, each time Rose dealt the cards in a different pattern and expounded on what they meant to my life. She also took some time to examine my palm and explain what different lines meant. She was enthusiastic and warm throughout the reading, during which a white rabbit with red eyes sat next to me on the mattress, and told me the following:

1. That I would have a long, happy, and healthy life, though I would care too much about helping people, causing me a great deal of stress. She said this at least four times.
2. That I would not be good at business, but that I would be wealthy and comfortable in life. A rich spouse perhaps?
3. That I am good at saving money, but that I would spend spontaneously, often on others.
4. That next year is a fortuitous one for marriage (this has something to with being born in the Year of the Goat and age 29)
5. That I am not ready to settle down, and don't like to depend on people.
6. That I should return home early next year to be close to my family, but she said immediately after that I don't like to follow others' advice, and I would make my own decision.

Rose had so much to say I can't possibly recollect it all. However she seemed to genuinely believe her cards and intuition. She was most happy that I had come to see her and thanked me a great many times, clasping my hands in hers, before we departed.

While it is intriguing to consider whether or not the foretellings might be true, as expected I found the engagement of the would-be oracles most fascinating.

At the PEPY Friends School

Bokor Hill Station

Below are photos from Bokor Mountain, inside Bokor National Park. In the 1920s the French elite built a resort here complete with a large hotel, casino, church, shops, etc. The resort was abandoned during the civil war in the early 1970s--now remain only the senescent (gotta love the thesaurus) skeletons of the structures. However, Bokor Hill Station, home to the rangers who monitor the park, has bunkrooms and a kitchen for visitors to the park who wish to stay overnight.







After three hours in the back of a truck, we arrived at the top of Bokor in a downpour, and the mountain completely clouded over. Visibility couldn't have been more than about 5 meters. We explored a few of the eerie buildings--my first thought was that the place seemed like a setting for a horror film. Later a Korean man told me there was indeed a Korean horror film, R-Point, made on site in 2002.





In the late afternoon, the clouds finally began to clear, revealing a splendid view of the coast and Gulf of Thailand below. From the top of the once-grand Palace Hotel & Casino and the precipice of Bokor's sheer ocean-side face, we were treated to a rather stunning sunset...

Cycling to Kep/Kampot Video

This short video by PEPY intern and fellow pseudo-cyclist Tim Rann, featuring our mini adventure to the coastal towns of Kep and Kampot, as well as Bokor Hill Station.

Oddities

One always encounters peculiar sights when travelling, but few stranger than the following, which I observed while cycling through the Cambodian countryside.

1. A 6 year-old girl on the side of the road, having a smoke, looking just as cool as could be. She had one hand on her hip, and was puffing on the cigarette like a movie star.

2. Riding on the back of a motorbike, an apparently sick woman carried her own IV, suspended from a metal rod just like in a hospital room.

3. This billboard Yep, those scarf and sweater clad kids are blasting off on condom rockets into the cosmos of love (or perhaps, the cosmos of unwanted pregnancy prevention).

Cycle to Kep

This past week Cambodia celebrated the Buddhist celebration of P'chum Ben, or Ancestor's Day, which lasts anywhere from 5-9 days depending on to whom you talk. We at PEPY happily recognized the national holidays, and enjoyed a 5-day weekend. Jonathan and Tim, two other interns, and I took off on mountain bikes, and cycled down to the coast for a mini-adventure. Actually, we hopped on top a mini-bus until we were well out of Phnom Penh, but we did cycle over 100km on our first day, down to the sleepy town of Kep. It was a gorgeous day and a superb ride through the graciously flat Cambodian countryside. Below are photos and captions from the first part of our journey...


Yes I have the yellow jersey, but Jonathan (center) is the only real cyclist in the group.

From the top of the mini-bus. This cool lady rode on the back and collected the money. Why were we on top you ask? The 15-passenger bus already had about 30 inside. Not exaggerating. At one point, even the rooftop became too crowded, and I was STANDING in the rear window on the left side, arm's reach from the passing vehicles! The words for crazy in Khmer are "lop-lop" and "chkua-chkua". This voyage was both.

Finally! We're off the mini-bus and almost on our way...

Roadside view on a brilliantly sunny afternoon.

Along either side of the road, there is a house about every 50-100 meters. As we passed each home, 98% of the time, kids and adults too, come out beaming smiles and shouting "HELLO" and other bits of English that they know, like "Whatyourname?" and "Are you marry?". It seemed the further we rode, the more friendly and spirited the greetings became, often as if they had been waiting for us to pass. This happened for the whole of the 100km, even the last two hours when we were pedaling in the dark and could not see the houses from which the voices hailed.

Smiling faces like this one, for the entire ride.


Afternoon begins to fade on palm-dotted rice paddies. Also, Cambodia has the best clouds. Ever.

Cows, ever present on and beside Cambodian roads.


Another stunning view, on the right a gate leading to a pagoda.

A high-school boy, whose name I've already forgotten, who rode up next to me on his motorbike, and traveled alongside for 20 minutes while I pedaled. He and a friend were on his way to English class, and couldn't believe their luck to meet a foreigner on the road. We chatted a good bit before pulling over briefly to take this photo. He was so excited to speak English, and couldn't wait to tell his teacher that he had a real English conversation on the way to class. When he finally rode ahead, a bit late for the lesson, he shouted back to me "Good luck, thank you so much" at least a half-dozen times.

The beauty of Cambodia is often masked by its poverty, muddied rivers, littered roads, and ramshackle buildings--especially if one remains in the city. On this day however, some truly gorgeous faces of Cambodia were revealed, filling me with satisfaction and wonder.

Temples of Angkor

I think any attempt to describe the temples of Angkor will be futile, for photos certainly do not capture them, and I simply cannot put them into words, at least not after a single morning there. Nevertheless, accepting the inevitable futility of my effort, below are some pictures and captions, that will hopefully provide at least a glimpse of my first experience at the temples.

Accompanied by friends Sofi and Steve (not their real names, which you nor I can pronounce correctly), riding in a tuk-tuk on the way to the temples. Along the way, S & S teach me the versatility of a silk scarf. Requiring a nickname of my own, Steve now calls me "Yei", meaning "grandmother".



Near the entrance to Ta Prohm temple, which was perhaps my favorite. A kind elder Khmer gentleman showed us around the temple grounds, directing us to little secret nooks and stone carvings that most visitors probably miss.



One of the countless kid vendors who hang out around the temples, hawking t-shirts, bracelets, scarves, sarongs, etc. to the international stream of tourists. They are incredibly witty and clever merchants, and speak bits and pieces of probably a dozen languages. I heard 8-year olds switch from Khmer to English to Japanese to Spanish to Chinese to French in a matter of minutes. This particular girl, upon learning I was from the United States, rattled off in a single breath, all 50 states AND capitals, in no particular order, starting with Montpelier Vermont and ending with Raleigh North Carolina. Another girl, who was tired of me politely rejecting the above-mentioned wares, asked what I DID want to buy. When I said "nothing", she said that "nothing" would cost me 10 bucks.



I haven't a clue to who this deity might be, but I liked how the carving was fractured.



Unfortunately most of my photos from Bayon temple, my other favorite, were very washed out--very difficult to capture the intricacy of the faces and facades.



A profile of one of the many serene faces of Bayon.



Khmer girl in a red scarf. Wandering through Bayon temple, one comes upon a great many doors and windows, many of them opening to the smiling Buddhas. The light coming through the openings has an incredible effect inside the dark hallways.



A horse, with the main and largest temple, Angkor Wat in the background.