ramblings

The fish are still swimming...

2009-02-25T23:37:00.003+07:00

...but they have migrated upstream to mouthful.tumblr.com.

This is my final post here. I do not plan to delete this blog, but all new content will be posted to mouthful. I hope you will find me there...

All old content and a collection of my writing can be found @ mrwoodard.wordpress.com

East>West

2009-02-16T19:46:00.002+07:00

I've been neglecting my blog these past couple of weeks--not sure if I was too lazy or had nothing to say, maybe both. My time in Cambodia is now flying by and unbelievably, I have just under a month left before starting my next adventure. My return to PEPY has been what I expected (same great people) and hasn't been (lots of office work rather than trip leading). Nonetheless, I am extremely happy with my decision to come back for four months, as its been rewarding to again be a part of an inspiring organization, and I have certainly learned a little more about Cambodia and Khmer culture.

On March 14, I'll fly to Honolulu to visit Aki, a good friend from Japan whom I haven't seen since I left. It will be my first time to Hawaii, and we have plenty of plans for sun and beach and biking and hiking volcanoes and maybe kite-surfing and eating too much and rehashing good times from Japan. 本当なつかしい！

Ten days later I will fly to Panama, my first return since I finished my Peace Corps service in December 2004. I'll have about a week to see old host families and friends and check out a friend's (and former PC vollie) Planting Empowerment project before busing up to Quepos in Costa Rica to meet my dad and his Rotary Club for a week-long project there. Afterward, I will return to Panama for a few more weeks to visit my site El Satro in the Veraguas mountains and enjoy everything Panamanian I have missed these past four years (patacones, tipico music, salomas, campo Spanish, conversations with strangers, etc.).

I will return to NC in late April for at least a month to spend some time with the family and enjoy Appalachian Spring. In June, I will return to Backroads for another summer of tripleading and campcheffing, though I don't know yet what region I will work.

Feels good to have a plan...

Vignette #7: The FCC Angkor

2009-02-07T11:19:00.001+07:00

The Foreign Correspondents Club is full of foreigners and empty of correspondents, as always. No hobnobbing journalists expounding on the days events, no reporters revising their stories, no photographers discussing recent shots. In fact, the only person doing any correspondence at all is a young woman writing in a spiral notebook at a candlelit table on the veranda, and even she seems more interested in her glass of white wine than her journal. It’s 5:30, Happy Hour a quarter-finished, and the wait staff have just turned on the soft-yellow wall lamps. The wooden-louver doors of the second-floor lounge are open on both sides, allowing the gentle evening breeze to filter in, joining the ceiling fans in swirling the lively conversation and cigarette smoke about the room. From the veranda, one can see the river and the tangle of Christmas lights in the riverside trees, hung rather haphazardly and left over from the water festival several months ago. They are tacky and beautiful at the same time, fitting perhaps in this town, struggling to modernize and exhibit its rich, ancient history simultaneously.

Vignette #6: The Widow Waitress

2009-02-03T22:05:00.001+07:00

Lina likes to sit with me at lunch, and tell me fragments of her life. She’s one of the waitresses at the café, but it’s difficult to think of her as such. She’s too forward, too amiable, too chummy. When I arrive, she without fail plops down in the opposite chair to chat and teach me Khmer. Like most Cambodians, she looks younger than her years, and yet, like all those who survived Khmer Rouge, has a melancholy in her eyes that makes her age seem irrelevant. Her bright face does a courageous job of camouflaging the somberness, but it’s always there, lurking in the back of her dark pupils, like black diamonds set in a gold engagement ring.

The first time I shared a table with Lina, or rather, Lina shared a table with me, she told me about her lesbian Japanese friend, whose sexual orientation she neither agreed with nor understood. But, as Lina reassured me, “Ot panyiha”—it wasn’t really an issue. She spoke fondly of the woman, and was clearly sad her foreign friend had returned to Japan. It occurred to me that Lina too might be gay, and this was her way of telling me without really telling me. My dinner arrives.

The second time I met Lina, she told me about her dead husband and one of her dead brothers, mentioning them casually, like two perished houseplants. Her spouse died in a motorbike accident, struck by a hit-and-run SUV, the driver of which she claimed to be a government minister who offered no apology and suffered no consequences. The brother died at the hands of his own wife’s jealous lover, who drowned him in a basin of boiling water after a merciless drunken beating. He too, escaped punishment. Another waitress brings out my lunch, and Lina disappears to the back.

On the third occasion, Lina tells me about her 11-year old son, who likes school and learns English at the Christian church they attend on Sundays. She pronounces Jesus “Jay-soo” and finds it peculiar I claim not to be Christian, or Buddhist, or Jewish, but does not press for an explanation. I want to ask the name of her church, but do not know the word for church in Khmer. I resort to calling it “p’tea Jay-soo, pagoda robhas Jay-soo”. The house of Jesus, Jesus’ pagoda. She understands, but cannot remember the name of the church. This time she watches me eat, and smiles when I look up from the plate.

The fourth time we meet, she recounts her experience as a refugee in Thailand. She was six when the Vietnamese overthrew Pol Pot. With her father dead, her mother dead, a sibling and cousins dead, she was taken to a camp just across the border to live with her mother’s sister. Four years later, Lina and her remaining siblings returned to Cambodia, where they grew up with another uncle. The aunt moved to Long Beach, married another refugee, and had two daughters who are now both medical students. Lina mentions the daughters suggestively, as if I might be a suitor, and then just as quickly, dismisses the idea silently, refilling my glass of iced jasmine tea, and asking me about work.

And so I come to know Lina, glimpses of her life like shards of glass on the sidewalk, inviting me to peer inside the broken window. Our limited skills with each other’s language force us to speak simply and directly. The blend of Khmer and English entertains us both, as we find indirect paths to communicating when we cannot find the words, and the inevitable misunderstandings bother us not in the slightest. Mostly she talks, and I listen, failing to understand the source of the sudden bond we’ve formed, and not caring to understand.

Vignette #5: 数学の先生　(The Math Teacher)

2009-01-26T18:21:00.000+07:00

On an early spring day in a rural town in northern Japan, before the cherry blossom excitement had started, a young man stared out the window at the passing cars. Or at least, pretended to stare at them. His blue eyes, the only pair in the room, could not help but fall repeatedly on the young math teacher sitting directly opposite his desk. The young woman went about her work, stamping and writing and erasing and shuffling, oblivious to the young man’s gazes. He let his stares fall longer, until he was no longer even glimpsing out the window. Her pale face was delicate without being doll-like, and glowed with warmth. She had a rather weak chin, which he did not care for, but it wasn't noticeable when she was talking or smiling. She seemed self-conscious of the feature, and oft held her mouth pursed just slightly, as if about to speak. Shoulder length strands of hair fell over her face, in the way that Japanese hair does, and she continued to work without brushing it aside. Yet it was the math teacher’s eyes that drew the man’s attention. He quietly hoped she would look up suddenly to catch him, and at the same time, he did not want to interrupt her work. A sudden bustle in the office caused him to look away. A group of students entered the faculty room and went about their daily, obligatory janitor duty. Briefly the young man felt guilty, first for his lazy lapse, and then for staring, before remembering he had little to do. Peering out the window again, he noticed the snow was blowing by faster than the cars, and the cold rays of sunlight piercing the blustery storm.

Vignette #4: The Nudist

2009-01-23T18:18:00.002+07:00

Just after crossing the river on Hawthorne, on his way to Powell’s to look for a present, Jack is suddenly drawn to the grassy expanse adjacent to the river’s boardwalk. Awash with noon sunlight, the river’s edge is busy with joggers, bikers, and dog walkers, enjoying what is surely one of the last days of summer. He finds a spot on the grass with a good view of the river and sits down to read Nick Adams while he people watches. Exactly two pages into Summer People, Jack looks up to see a naked woman on roller-skates cruising gracefully down the boardwalk. Save her bright white skates with red wheels, she has not a stitch of clothing. She seems oblivious to the hundreds of eyes fixed on her lovely figure. Yet, as she passes a pair of young men on a park bench, the coffee-skinned young woman bends forward, stretching her arms in front, lifting her right leg behind, and twisting slightly so as to reveal her naked pelvis to the seated, dumbfounded men. Jack, transfixed as the rest, watches as she coasts past and then finds her pace again, powerfully pushing past those in her path. Jack ponders the peculiarity of the moment briefly, before returning to his story.

Vignette #3: The Uncle

2009-01-17T18:20:00.002+07:00

Nearing the restaurant, Puu recognizes me from fifty meters, waving gently and beaming. I wave back. I see him tell his employees, all nieces and nephews, to ready a table for me. He greets me on the patio, a concrete slab with half a dozen metal tables and red plastic chairs.

“Puu sok sabai tei?” I ask him. Are you well, uncle?
“Ba, sok sabai,” he replies, grinning. He likes it when I call him uncle.
“Sok sabai sai sabok,” says a nearby nephew. The three of us laugh at this joke as we did the day before, and the day before that.

Puu compliments me today on my sport shirt. This has become routine too. Often he tells me he likes my haircut, or simply that I am handsome, but today he has focused on the shirt, admiring the cut and even feeling the texture as he directs me to my usual table. It is lunchtime, and like most days, I am the only customer. Occasionally two men set in the back drinking iced tea and playing chess, but today the only other occupants of the red plastic chairs are the nieces and nephews, who are lazily watching Khmer pop videos and karaoke ballads on the small TV mounted on the wall.

As always, Puu is dressed well but simply--in pressed, pleated trousers, a long-sleeve button down that is slightly too large, and black leather sandals. As I sit, he says something in Khmer I don’t quite catch.

“Som toh, m’dong tiyit.” Once again, I ask.
“I missed you,” he repeats, this time more slowly. I chuckle, considering the fact that its been just 24 hours since I saw him last.
“K’nyom dai,” I say. I missed you too. Again, he beams, and laughs proudly. The nieces and nephews have shifted their attentions from the TV. One of them scurries to the back to retrieve a menu, despite the fact they all know what I will order. This too, is part of the routine.

“What will it be today?” Uncle asks. Again, laughter.
“Fried vegetables with rice and an ice coffee with condensed milk,” I order confidently in Khmer, without opening the menu.
“Mian ph’sut k’mao?”
“Ba, mian ch’ran,” he smiles, knowing the black mushrooms to be my favorite.
“Aukun ch’ran Puu,” I thank him, and then he is off to the kitchen, leaving me with his nieces and nephews who are too shy to talk much, but all smile like their uncle.

Monkey Business

2009-01-17T17:43:00.006+07:00

Last weekend I was mountain biking on the old earthen wall of Angkor Thom, when suddenly my path was blocked by a troop of about 40 monkeys. While not super-aggressive, they certainly had no fear of me and a few were quite interested in my bike, helmet, and my water bottle, which one pulled out of the cage and tried to make off with. Cheeky bugger. The majority of them paid me no attention, even when I approached to take photos from close range. Nearly got in the middle of a domestic dispute between a mother and young male who was displeased about something, but I managed to escape the melee.

"Hey you monkeys, get out of my way!"

Mother eating, with wide-eyed baby.

"Hmmm, wonder what this handlebar and seat taste like?"

New perch

Sad monkey at sunset

Contemplation

Confused

The Helmet Licker

My favorite photo of the bunch

Vignette #2: The Tenor

2009-01-09T09:51:00.001+07:00

He is sitting across from me at the corner booth, smiling with a precocious and yet still innocent arrogance that quickly reveals itself to be entirely feigned. The man could easily pass for 18, and though I guess him to be about 28, is actually a decade older 38. He is introduced to me as Cambodia’s only operatic tenor, something I initially disbelieve. Flashing his deceptively boyish grin, he hands over a business card—his name is written elegantly in Khmer and English calligraphy, and then below in block print, plainly says “TENOR.” I am not fully convinced. He pours us each a Jaeger bomb, a rather foul concoction, and in one swift motion downs the drink and plunks the tumbler back on the table, clinking the shot glass inside. I follow. Wiping a drop from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, he tells me of his eight years of training in Russia and his performances of Puccini and Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninoff in Rome and Moscow and even Pyongyang. He is fluent in Russian and English, and yet sitting in a sleeveless T-shirt, flaunting his compact, sinewy biceps, he appears to me a cocksure young boxer. He pours two more shots before I can refuse. The conversation begins to flow as freely as the drinks, and we move on to politics and women and Pol Pot. The name. It slams into me as hard as the last shot hit my throat. Again, I have forgotten his age. He is not an innocent kid, his eyes have witnessed terrors I can’t imagine even in nightmares. He was five when Phnom Penh was overtaken and evacuated. Bluntly, he tells me about surviving the Khmer Rouge, the separation from his parents, and then much too candidly, about the loss of his brothers and sisters, mentioning them like marbles lost in a childhood game. I am shaken, and do not respond. He reaches for the bottle again, though this time I politely decline, and cover the glass with my hand. He drinks again, peering at me with painless eyes, eyes that reveal nothing at all. In two days, I will hear him sing, and the encounter will make even less sense.

Vignette #1: The Nonchalant

2009-01-06T00:37:00.003+07:00

I've been trying to do a bit of creative writing recently, just for fun really. As I have almost no imagination when it comes to characters or plots, I've just been writing exaggerations loosely based on personal experiences. Following is the first in a series of vignettes I will be posting in the coming weeks...

The café is misnamed, for it does not occupy the corner. In fact, the Corner Bar & Grill sits exactly four businesses away from the corner, nestled between a pair of cafes looking remarkably similar to the Corner. Never mind, this fact doesn’t seem to matter in the least to the mysterious young European sitting cross-legged on the rattan chair under the Corner’s awning. Despite the heat, her slender limbs are covered to the wrists and ankles in black attire that would look nondescript in gray London perhaps, but here set her apart from the multitudes of barang dressed in revealing tank tops and vibrant skirts. She fidgets in the chair, her long legs making it difficult to curl up as she appears wont to do. Reaching for a Marlboro from a packet on the table, she gazes indifferently out of the café at nothing in particular, seemingly oblivious to the bustle of passing motos and street vendors. As she flicks her lighter, a strand of auburn hair falls from behind her ear, dangerously close to the flame and yet this too, she appears not to notice. With each drag, she exhales disdainfully, as if perturbed that the coming breath of fresh air will interrupt the nicotine gratification. Neither happy or sad, it is quite evident that the only thing holding any interest for her is the precious cigarette.

2008: The Top 100

2009-01-05T23:57:00.003+07:00

I'll forewarn you, this is a long one. I wrote these entirely for me, but I thought I would share them as they are my best memories from what was truly a sensational year. I am blessed to have so many opportunities and good people around me. Without further ado, here you have them:

1. New Year’s Day in Sihanoukville, Cambodia with Daniela and the CAR Team -- an uninhabited island, champagne, euchre, Frisbee, and warm Cambodian sun.

2. Rim to rim to rim. Traversing the Grand Canyon on foot twice in two days with my friend Liv. I never been so tired, and a beer has never tasted better than at the top.

3. Cycling to the coastal town of Kep with a group from PEPY, including a 140km day.

4. Mom and Dad’s 40th anniversary weekend. Great time with the whole family and old friends. I enjoyed cooking the meal and keeping my mom out of the kitchen for once!

5. “Babysitting” my nieces and nephews. I gave them a cardboard box and bubble wrap and they played for 8 hours and needed no supervision.

6. Motorbike adventures in Lao, including a breakdown near the Chinese border, running out of gas in the middle of endless rice paddies, and getting quite lost for about two hours on a forested back road.

7. Obama wins. What a night that was, even in front of the TV in Gurley Holler.

8. Teaching mi compadre Andrew how to fly-fish, and watching him catch his first fish on a fly. He’s a natural.

9. Coming home to NC late spring. Beautiful.

10. The stark naked roller skater on the river boardwalk in Portland Oregon.

11. Dawn bike rides around the temples of Angkor with Adam and Daniela. At ban chop k’nyom!

12. My first Backroads trip in the Canyons with Chuck, Courtney, Jason, and Sarah. My first time cooking for 30 people—chaotic, but so much fun!

13. The best ever day fishing with Pop on Secret Creek. Best Ever.

14. Camping, fishing, and hot spring-ing with Asha in Oregon.

15. Lao New Year—a 3-day water fight in Luang Prabang.

16. Chopping firewood in the fall. Hands down my favorite chore at home in Gurley Holler.

17. Seeing Marc and Erika, just after the birth of their first son, Forrest B.

18. Learning to make Khmer curry from scratch with Thavry.

19. Cooking at home with Mom, both in the spring and fall.

20. Dawn on the river near Chi Phat, Cambodia.

21. Scrabble, cards, and PB apples in Chanleas Dai with Adam and Karina.

22. Chatting to monks at pagodas in Phnom Penh and Siem Reap. So warm and peaceful.

23. Finndependence & the Punk Party, because blue-cross Mohawks and costumes are just plain fun.

24. Playing ‘Merica with Mike and Adam from Utah to Wisconsin to Cambodia.

25. Finally seeing Ryan Adams again, and the buildup to the show.

26. Wakeboarding with Danny and Dad on Lake James.

27. Hiking the Narrows in Zion with my Sarah.

28. Hiking the Art Loeb trail with Andrew and Brian. I don’t know why I never did this while growing up, it is a stunning hike in WNC.

29. Fishing with Pop on Cane Creek in Bakersville. So much fun early in the season before the worm fisherman get to them!

30. Biking on the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, a great 50-mile solo ride out to Point Imperial.

31. Meeting a young Lao university student, who kindly stopped me on the street and showed me around Luang Prabang for the day.

32. The last day of the Davita trip. Packing up 140 tents for the 4th time in 5 days wasn’t necessarily fun, but the early fall day was gorgeous and it felt great to finish a huge undertaking.

33. Eating mango sticky rice for breakfast on a restaurant terrace overlooking the Mekong, along with petroleum thick Lao coffee and a coconut shake.

34. Hiking on Mt. Hood with Mike and Ikuko.

35. Jonathan’s rooftop musical performance at Chez PEPY.

36. Dutch oven cooking all summer. Because baking cakes and bread while you’re camping is downright delicious.

37. Hot apple cider in the fall. Felt like a kid again.

38. Thanksgiving with the gang @ Chateau PEPY in Siem Reap. My favorite holiday, and while I never seem to be home with family (7 years running), I always end up in amazing places with great people.

39. Spending the night in the Cambodian jungle. Not particularly comfortable in sardine hammocks, but a memorable night nonetheless.

40. Planting some flowering trees with my Pop in the spring. It just feels good get grab a shovel, get your hands in the earth, and plant a tree.

41. My first-ever time rock climbing, near Phnom Kulen. A great day with Adam, Daniela, Thavry, and a fun group of Japanese folks.

42. Leader Rock on the North Rim with carrot cake and wine. Unbeatable.

43. Asheville Tourists game with Andrew. Nothing like a minor league ballpark, hotdogs, a beer, and some old Republicans behind you talking politics & baseball.

44. Meeting Lina and Puu @ Siem Reap Town, my favorite local spot to eat in Siem Reap. I am often the only customer and they never fail to welcome me like family.

45. Buildup to the Election. Watching the debates and discussing politics was interesting and fun for a change, with liberals and conservatives alike.

46. Playing the KneeKnocker game in Siem Reap with Aaron and the locals during Khmer New Year.

47. Meeting Kung Nai and the Instrument Maker, artists who survived the Khmer Rouge, and watching young Cambodian perform traditional Khmer dance and song.

48. Exchanges with the moto and tuk-tuk drivers outside Chez PEPY in Phnom Penh. We always said the same thing and it was always entertaining.

49. Bubble Tea and dumplings with Mandy and Tech.

50. The smile on Meth’s face when I gave her a loaf of homemade bread.

51. Watching the river dolphins, and then the sunset on the Mekong River.

52. Dancing Meringue on the beach in Sihanoukville, Cambodia. This made no sense, perhaps why it was so enjoyable.

53. Hiking and swimming at Kuang Si falls, outside Luang Prabang.

54. Playing “Celebrity” and hanging with the Gunshop crew.

55. Cooking and eating with Erin, Achaya, Mandy, Wonton, and Tech.

56. Driving in the Canyons and making cakes with camp assistant Sarah.

57. Exploring Portland on a bicycle.

58. Exploring Phnom Penh on a bicyle.

59. Dropping a transmission in Middle of Nowhere, Wyoming with Mike and Adam.

60. Road trip with Morgan across the Heartland and the many truckstops along the way.

61. Kayaking the Nam Ou with a playful guide and a fun couple from the Czech Republic.

62. Playing euchre with Aaron, and reliving our days in Peace Corps Panama.

63. The few times my whole family was together for a meal.

64. Hiking Paintbrush Canyon in the Tetons with Justin, and a long discussion about religion.

65. Fishing with Keon and Brad outside Victor, and the hamburgers afterward.

66. Angels Landing in Zion with Liv. Simply exhilirating.

67. Kitesurfing with Daniela in Mui Ne, Vietnam. There isn’t a better rush than being locked in to the wind and zipping across the waves.

68. The kindness of three Lao families who invited me into their homes for Lao New Year meals and celebration. Well two of them invited me. I am still not sure how I ended up at one home. They were completely baffled by my presence (as was I), but were kind enough to not turn me away!

69. Mountain biking in and around Dalat, Vietnam, the City of Eternal Spring. And strawberry fields forever. Really.

70. Getting robbed in Dalat. This was strangely a good experience. The thief snuck into my hotel room at night, and was kind not to wake me while taking only $16, and leaving my camera, iPod, credit card, and other cash.

71. Teaching for two days at the PEPY Ride School in Chanleas Dai. Eager students make teaching so much fun.

72. Visiting Beng Mealea with Aaron K. Its like playing Indian Jones.

73. Leading a PEPY trip with Peppi, and losing/recovering the generator.

74. Fishing the Davidson River for the 1st time outside Brevard. I went on a whim, had a beautiful morning and caught a monster.

75. Canyoneering in Zion. Indescribable, and Zion became one of my favorite places.

76. Emily’s wedding in Celo. After a hail storm delayed the event, the service was blessed by one of the most beautiful late afternoons I had seen in a long time. Good times with old friends.

76. Sleeping outside under the stars all summer.

77. Visiting Lambeau Field. What an incredible place, just for football. Only football.

78. Homemade Tonkatsu with Mike and Ikuko in Portland. Natsukashii!!! Felt like Japan again.

79. Cycling on crisp autumn days in NC on my newly purchased road bike.

80. Little Tokyo in LA with Matt. Felt like a tiny slice of Japan.

81. Speaking Spanish at the Mexican taquerias in Grand Prairie, TX. Also, the tacos.

82. Returning to Phnom Penh, and wandering on foot. So much character.

83. Mountain biking in Chi Phat, and the best cold shower I’ve ever had at the waterfall.

84. Mountain biking around the Western Baray, and on top of the ancient wall of Angkor Thom.

85. Dinner and wine on the back porch with Andrew, Mom, and Dad in early summer.

86. Reunion with Mandy and Wonton in San Francisco Airport.

87. Seeing the Tetons for the first time.

88. Returning to PEPY. What a wonderful group of people to live and work with.

89. Falling in love with Portland.

90. Camping in eastern Idaho and western Montana with Pop.

91. Visiting RDIC for the third time, and seeing their projects.

92. Watching the Olympics, especially sports I generally have no interest in like archery and gymnastics.

93. Routinely getting up at 5am this summer to get the coffee and breakfast started.

94. Trying to perfect the tomato bisque.

95. PEPY Paintball.

96. On the swings with Asha.

97. Barefoot in the white sand dunes of Mui Ne. A bizarre feeling to be alone in the desert.

98. Going away party from PEPY at Sovanna and Pontoon. Incredible friends, delicious steak, and ridiculous dancing.

99. New Years Eve Midnight. With good friends in a hot tub on a hotel rooftop terrace in Siem Reap, watching the fireworks and floating lanterns over the city.

100. Making countless plans for 2009. I never seem to tire of dreaming up new places to go and new things to try.

Year in Review

2008-12-30T06:06:00.021+07:00

2008 has been a year of seemingly constant motion for me, perhaps the most I have ever traveled in 12 months. The year opened on a beach in Sihanoukville, Cambodia and then went like this: Phnom Penh, Ho Chi Minh City, Mui Ne, Da Lat, Phnom Penh, Stung Treng, Siem Reap, Luang Prabang, Vientiane, Paxse, Phnom Penh, Home in NC, Salt Lake City, Zion & Bryce Canyon, Salt Lake City, St. George, Zion, Bryce and Grand Canyon, Jackson Hole, Yellowstone, Grand Tetons, Eastern ID, Western MT, Jackson, St George, Canyons again, San Francisco, Portland OR, Salt Lake City, Wyoming, South Dakota, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Iowa, Nebraska, Wyoming, Salt Lake City, Portland OR, Dallas TX, Home in NC, LA, Phnom Penh, and finally Siem Reap, where I have been for the last 6 weeks, the longest I've stayed in one place all year!

Following are some photo highlights from each month:

January

Part of the PEPY team, Phnom Penh

Coconut bike, en route to Kep, Cambodia

February

Students read new books in Chanleas Dai

White Sand Dunes in Mui Ne, Vietnam

March

Marina in Mui Ne, Vietnam

Sunset over the Mekong, Kratie, Cambodia

April

Monk drinks at Angkor Wat

Strong boys at the entrance to Beng Mealea

May

Feeding the lambs

May morning in the garden, Gurley Holler

June

Fishing with Andrew on Cane Creek, Bakersville NC

Camp Kitchen, Zion National Park

July

The Tetons

Fishing with Pop on Secret Creek

August

Grand Canyon Traverse

Angel's Landing, Zion National Park

September

Lambeau Field

Mt. Hood

October

Camping Next to Water, Near Brightenbush Oregon

The Woodards, October 19 2008

November

Students at the Chanleas Dai Primary School

West Entrance to Angkor Thom

December

Two boys play chess on the street in Siem Reap

Sunrise near Chi Phat

Apsara

2008-12-13T19:34:00.003+07:00

I didn't get any photos that quite captured the grace and poise of this Apsara dancer, but she was stunning to watch. The traditional Khmer arts were nearly extinguished during Pol Pot's regime--it is truly special to see young artists practicing them now.

One of PEPY's partners, Cambodian Living Arts, is working to connect the few master artists who survived the Khmer Rouge with young students. During my first stint in Cambodia, I was fortunate to see both masters and students perform several times, some of my finest memories here.

Cycling, Vinyasa, Climbing.

2008-12-04T07:46:00.007+07:00

No shortage of activity since arriving in Siem Reap--it's great to live with so many people who constantly like to get out, exercise, and have fun. Besides the paintball, we've been biking several times a week in and around Siem Reap and Angkor. This weekend some of our crew will join a cycling race around Angkor and a few of us will lead a mountain biking trip around the Western Baray on Sunday.

I am also going to a yoga class twice a week, which so far has been powerful for body and mind. I quite like connecting spiritual and physical wellness in one practice--it is invigorating and relaxing at the same time.

Last Sunday I went rock climbing for the first time. A group of Japanese people currently working in SR started a climbing group, and invited a few of us along to climb with them at Phnom Kulen (Lychee Mountain). I had tried free climbing and bouldering before but was never quite comfortable on the rock, so it was nice to try climbing with gear and with Japanese folks, who can make a complete amateur feel like an expert (上手ですねえ！）We had a wonderful morning scaling an enormous rock in the middle of the jungle, and spent the afternoon cycling back to Siem Reap. Quite a day.

On the rock

A group of youngsters, puzzled by our efforts

The group お疲れさまでした！

All photos courtesy of Adam Vaught

PEPY Paintball

2008-12-04T07:35:00.002+07:00

A few weeks ago the new PEPY crew went out for a surprise team building session at the paintball/entertainment center on the edge of town. Because there's no better way to get to know your work/house mates than by shooting them in the face with a high-powered paint rifle. Sorry Adam.

Faces

2008-11-28T08:46:00.002+07:00

Spent a wonderful day at the PEPY Ride School yesterday in Chanleas Dai, click here to see a slideshow of more faces.

Kon sa'at

2008-11-25T22:22:00.003+07:00

This is the daughter of our house mother at Chateau PEPY. At four years old, she has figured out that her main job is to stand around looking uber-cute.

Mouthful is the new Ramblings. Kind of.

2008-11-23T08:37:00.002+07:00

I have been experimenting with a new blog hosting site called tumblr.com. The interface makes it incredibly easy to share all kinds of media, from videos and headlines to photos, books, quotes, and music. Plus, I imported the feed from Ramblings so all posts will be displayed on the new blog as well. Consider it a brain dump for my increasingly short attention span.

However, I am not giving up fisharealwaysswimming, I will still be writing stories and thoughts and posting photos here as well. So if you like the old style, you can continue to come here. If you want to read Ramblings plus a plethora of other things I want to share...check out mouthful.tumblr.com

In between.

2008-11-18T18:25:00.003+07:00

I am currently reading Howard Zinn's A People's History of the United States and came across a quote from Eugene Debs that I quite liked:

The issue is Socialism versus Capitalism. I am for Socialism because I am for humanity. We have been cursed with the reign of gold long enough. Money constitutes no proper basis of civilization. The time has come to regenerate society--we are on the eve of a universal change.

While I won't go so far as to declare myself a socialist (perhaps a compromising socio-capitalist?), I do feel like some of the solutions to the issues facing our nation (and humanity for that matter) can only be found by policies that consider the greater good of society more important than the good of individual citizens. I sometimes wonder how "socialism" and "communism" became such ugly words in the US, the roots of the words and the ideas they represent lie in society and community.

Finish this sentence...

2008-11-18T17:56:00.003+07:00

This afternoon in the PEPY office we did a team-building exercise which I enjoyed and thought I would share. The exercise required the individual to finish the following sentences (in bold)--my answers are in italics.

1. I stand for creating opportunities and lifelong education.
2. I define quality of life as balance between give and take, and enjoying the people and earth around me.
3. My life changed when I joined the Peace Corps, cliché as that may be.
4. I recognize my weaknesses as being stubborn and judgemental, not being proactive enough, not digging deep enough, and allowing my adventurous lifestyle to make me complacent and selfish.
5. A harmonious and meaningful relationship requires listening, respect, compromise, and honesty.
6. My life will be complete if and when I die. I realize this one sounds obvious, but I hope I never feel like I have done all I want and experienced all that life has to give.

I would enjoy hearing how my readers might finish these same sentences...feel free to comment!

Streetwalker

2008-11-15T14:41:00.002+07:00

Phnom Penh is not a beautiful city. At least not by any western standards. Though most of the roads are now paved, highrises and modern businesses are popping up on every corner, and there is evidence of new public works projects, the city still feels rather ramshackle. Its streets, thoroughfares, and parks are littered with all kinds of refuse and rubble, the air is oft choked with exhaust and dust, and electrical wire tangles mar the view of the tree lined alleys. On either side of an old colonial French villa or an inviting new dayspa are crumbling apartments and buildings that should be condemned. The rivers run muddy brown all year round and the riverfront, despite a horde of posh businesses catering to expats and tourists, still feels squalid.

And yet, it is perhaps my favorite city to walk. To say the Phnom Penh has character is like saying New York has culture, or LA has style. The streets are absolutely alive with people, vehicles, animals, and activity of all sorts. Kids with fistfuls of riel run down the street on mother-sent errands; moto and tuk-tuk drivers congregate on every corner, playing cards or checkers or simply shooting the breeze; barbers setup their tiny stands on a back alley and give shaves for 25cents; old women, often with a kid or two in tow, pull their recycling wagons through the streets picking up discarded cans and bottles; food and drink are abundantly available from vendor carts and street side restaurants, selling everything from sugarcane juice to hot bowls of noodles to duck eggs to coconuts to ice cream cones.

Simply walking through traffic is a real-life video game (remember Frogger?)--you must constantly be on guard for everything seems to be coming right at you. Cross a busy street and you will likely have to weave through several Lexus SUVs, a smiling cyclo driver or two, a large barreling truck, a group of bright orange-robed monks, plus countless overloaded motos carrying not just passengers but electronics, live animals, produce, and building supplies.

Sidewalks are a bit of a misnomer, for there often is little room to walk. It is impossible to walk straight. Businesses spill out of their doors almost into the street, motos and tuk-tuks use the sidewalk as parking, vendors block the way with their carts, and there are always piles of rubbish to avoid. I find I usually just walk in the street and disregard the sidewalks altogether.

All of this was magnified the first couple days I was here, as the country was celebrating the annual water festival (see "Bon Om Touk" post from December '07). Thousands and thousands of people from the countryside came to the capital to enjoy the festivities, packing the already chaotic streets, to the point where it was difficult to move at all. Disconcerting at first, but after a few walking journeys into the heart of the city, it all feels incredibly familiar again.

LA Filters

2008-11-15T14:10:00.005+07:00

In Little Tokyo

Downtown, at the Walt Disney Concert Hall

On Santa Monica in Echo Park

In transit

2008-11-15T12:58:00.003+07:00

I was in LA for a few days before leaving for Cambodia--the day of my departure I found this restaurant while walking around Echo Park.

In the Taipei airport, I was tempted by the gruel, but eventually settled on the beef noodles

He's so...human!

2008-11-05T22:29:00.003+07:00

Four years ago I woke up on post-election day on a nearly empty beach in Panama, near the end of my Peace Corps service, shocked and discouraged that the US had put George Bush back in office. It just didn't seem plausible. While I wasn't terribly excited about John Kerry, I couldn't comprehend that anybody felt Dubya was leading us in the right direction. I felt truly out of touch with the average American, as well as the government and nation I thought I was serving. A friend and I consoled ourselves the night before with simpler gratifications: fried fish, patacones, boxed wine, tropical waters and the rebellious, socialist lyrics of McCarthy, along with vows of expatriation for the foreseeable future.

Today, I woke up and my first thought was the face of Barack Obama, and what he represents to so many people--not solely his potential as president, but more so an inspiring, progressive leader who seeks to unify Americans and other nations alike. For the first time in my life, I voted for someone who not only shares many of my political beliefs but more importantly, seems to hold his faith in humanity at the forefront of his guiding principles. I have great hopes for his presidency, and how his leadership may serve not only our nation, but the breadth of humanity.

Two Fall Photos

2008-11-04T00:27:00.002+07:00

Reflections on Crabtree Creek

The last walnut

森のカボチャ

2008-10-27T20:35:00.004+07:00

On Saturday afternoon I went to visit some old friends and their four month old baby boy. With less than a week before Halloween, we decided to carve one of the pumpkins on their front porch into a jack-o-lantern. While I do not have artistic impulses often, I wanted to do something besides the traditional triangle-toothed face. My friend and his son share the same first name Forrest, so I decided to attempt carving the Japanese kanji for "forest": 森, or "mori". Below is the result...

Wakeboarding in Autumn

2008-10-22T21:28:00.004+07:00

My oldest brother Danny bought a boat earlier this summer--I had been eager to get home so I could go out and play before it got too cold. Monday it was just warm enough in the afternoon for a final trip down to Lake James before the boat gets winterized until next year.

The water was almost pleasant (though you'll notice, I am a wimp and wore a wetsuit!) and we were one of the only boats on the lake so we had plenty of fun. I had not wakeboarded in over a year so it was awesome to get up again and my brother, who usually skis, got up for the first (and 2nd, and 3rd, and 4th) time on the wakeboard, which I suspect was due to my impeccable driving.

Me, cruising

Danny up on the board, but terrified

Riding confidently, or, at least pretending

The Woodards--October 18, 2008

2008-10-22T21:10:00.002+07:00

Great to have the whole family together again in Gurley Holler, we even made it through the photo shoot with relative ease!

A Life Together

2008-10-22T20:48:00.004+07:00

This past weekend, my parents celebrated their 40th anniversary. I feel blessed to have such wonderful and cool parents. As a kid, you never think your parents could be cool, but now as an adult, it is great to see them still enjoying what they do, and getting so much out of life and from each other. It is now plain to see that I am who I am because of who they are and how they live.

Bike to Bandana

2008-10-22T01:21:00.005+07:00

Having revived my interest in cycling in Cambodia last year and with Backroads again this summer, I finally bought a bicycle and some sexy bike shorts. I picked an ideal autumn day for my first solo ride in NC in many years--cool and crisp and clear. The leaves were just hitting peak, and the road from my house to Bandana was empty of traffic...perfect for riding, and luckily I remember my camera.

Hwy 80N, near Kona, with sunglasses filter

Silver Chapel Steeple, amongst the jetstreams

"Yes, it most definitely is an enchanting place in these so very old mountains."

You're not from Texas.

2008-10-22T01:02:00.004+07:00

Well, I'm not from Texas anyway, but my friends Aaron and Sarah are sort-of, and they kindly offered me a week of hospitality at their home in Grand Prairie, capped off by an evening with Ryan Adams and the Cardinals, who apparently, like to play Rock 'n' Roll.

Before the show: a ridiculous wonderful shirt, a ridiculous wonderful face, and Don.

Heartland

2008-10-21T23:52:00.003+07:00

In September, I had the opportunity to do a trip (expedition is perhaps a better word) with Backroads in Wisconsin. A company hired us to organize a 5-day bike/camping trip across part of Wisconsin for 300 of their employees. After several days of packing and organizing and more packing in Salt Lake City, 14 vans and 10 trailers headed east across Wyoming, South Dakota (making a brief stops at Mt. Rushmore, the Badlands, and Wall Drug of course), Minnesota, before arriving in New London, Wisconsin, just in time for a Sausage and Cheese festival (Mmmmmmmm, brats and cheese curds!).

It was a truly awesome trip, as our crew set up and broke down 140 tents everyday, packed and unpacked 300 sleeping bags, loaded and unloaded countless pieces of luggage, managed 300 bikes and riders everyday, and cooked the majority of the meals as well. Long 18 hour workdays, but we had beautiful weather for most of the week and I got to see an area of the country I had never visited before--Door County and Sturgeon Bay were especially impressive in September, as was my tour of Lambeau Field (even got to walk out the players' tunnel!).

The drive back across the endless farms of Iowa, Nebraska, and Wyoming was not noteworthy, but enjoyable nonetheless, due mostly to good company and open roads.

Oregon

2008-10-21T23:11:00.009+07:00

After finishing up my season in the Canyons, I flew up to Portland to visit some friends from Japan and explore a bit in NW Oregon. It is an absolutely gorgeous area, especially in the summer, and I am quickly growing fond of the city--so much so that I am considering moving there at some point next year. Lush, beautiful neighborhoods, great parks and riverside boardwalks, progressive, uncrowded, super-bike friendly, hip and weird, excellent music and food, and wonderful access to everything I enjoy outside...hiking, cycling, fishing, snowboarding, kiteboarding, the coast, even some great hot springs within an hour or two drive.

Below are some photos

The Hawthorne Bridge, spanning the Willamette River

Mountain wildflower in a meadow, below Mt. Hood

Mt. Hood, peering down on our afternoon alpine idyll

Afternoon on the Oregon coast

On Eagle Creek, a rainbow beneath the dripping rocks

Old Man's Beard in the sunlight and evergreens

Home Again

2008-10-21T22:54:00.003+07:00

I've been back in Gurley Holler just over a week now, and finally finding a bit of time to catch up with my blog. Apologies to all of my readers for the long hiatus, there have been several complaints about having to reread Rim to Rim to Rim for the umpteenth time.

I picked an absolutely gorgeous time to be home, October being my 2nd favorite month in the NC mountains. The leaves were at peak all last week, especially the maples, and the air has been perfect and crisp during the day--beautiful to be outside cycling, running, chainsawing firewood, etc. I am hoping to soak up as much of autumn as possible, before heading back to sultry Cambodia for the winter.

But first, I must backtrack a bit, and try to recount some of the past two months...

Rim to Rim to Rim

2008-08-14T07:37:00.007+07:00

36 hours. 45 miles. 20000+ feet of elevation change (down, up, down, up). 120 degree heat. 20 liters of water consumed. Two traverses of the Grand Canyon, and two absolutely knackered legs.

On Monday, my friend Liv and I walked across the breadth of the Grand Canyon, descending from the North Rim along the North Kaibab trail, following Bright Angel Creek through its box canyon to the Colorado River, and then ascending the Bright Angel trail to the South Rim. We liked it so much, on Tuesday we did it again (actually we had to get back to our car on the other side), this time descending the South Kaibab trail to the Colorado, and returning to the North Rim via the North Kaibab trail. To put it simply, it was a grueling hike, mostly due to the heat (at times it was 108 in the shade! and at 5pm, it was still 115!), but the distance and elevation change certainly contributed to the challenge. The last mile of each day my legs felt like blocks of cement--sitting down to a meal and a beer at the top never felt so good!

The rewards however, were some stunning views of the Grand Canyon, an exceptional hike, a seemingly broken body (strangely, a good hurt), and the satisfaction of saying I crossed the Grand Canyon on foot. Twice.

Below are some of my photos (and a few of Liv's), which only begin to tell the story of two monster days...

Echo Canyon

2008-08-11T06:51:00.006+07:00

Another day, another adventure. Yesterday I had the wonderful opportunity to try canyoneering inside Zion National Park, which is fast becoming one of my favorite places. A friend with some gear obtained a permit to explore Echo Canyon and invited myself and two other Backroads leaders to tag along. After renting a harness, a wetsuit (the pools of the canyon are quite chilly even in August), and some booties, we hiked up from Weeping Rock to our insertion point to the canyon. An extraordinary afternoon followed as we descended the slot canyon, managing some awesome short rappels, chilly swims in the recent snowmelt pools, and booming shouts into the amphitheater-like acoustics of the bigger chambers.

Near the mouth of the canyon

The ascent

Just before gearing up, all grins

Between a rock and well, another rock

Rappelling into a mysterious chamber

Different planet, #1

Different planet, #2

Different planet, #3

Holding apart the canyon walls

The team

Our leader, Dave

Myself, neck deep in the muck of the canyon mouth, which we named "Diaper Canyon"

Our photographer, Kate (all photos courtesy of her)

Liv, the stylish one of the group

Emerging from the muck, all smiles again :)

Burst Piñata Hats, and Cake

2008-08-11T02:42:00.001+07:00

Angel's Landing

2008-08-10T12:47:00.007+07:00

On one of my recent trips, I had the opportunity to hike to Angel's Landing, a most impressive temple of rock in Zion National Park. Gaining some 1500 ft of elevation from the valley floor to the peak, it was truly one of the most visually stunning hikes I've ever done, most notably for the sharp, contrasting colors of the stone, sky, shadows, and flora. An added bonus, on the descent we rounded a corner and came up on a California Condor perched on a rock, not more than an arm's reach away. I will let the photos speak for themselves...

Birthday Self Portrait

2008-08-10T12:41:00.005+07:00

At Grand Canyon's North Rim, 6:15 a.m.

Yum Party

2008-08-10T12:32:00.002+07:00

Chocolate Decadence Cake, Blueberry Spiral Decoration a là Sarah Brey

4th of July Fiesta in Zion

2008-08-10T12:10:00.001+07:00

My fellow Backroads leaders from my first trip in the Canyons

Hot Hot Heat

2008-07-24T08:26:00.004+07:00

I am now back in southern Utah (basing out of St. George) for the remainder of the summer, after several beautiful weeks in Wyoming, Idaho, and Montana. I'll be camp cheffing four more trips in Bryce, Zion and Grand Canyons through the end of August--looking forward to everything but the 115 degree August heat of Zion! I should know more about my post-August plans/schedule/adventures in about a week...stay tuned!

The Grand Tetons

2008-07-24T00:05:00.002+07:00

Yellowstone is impressive for its immense expanses of forests and meadows, but in my eyes it compares not to the dramatic peaks of the Grand Tetons. Driving south from Yellowstone, you cross the Rockefeller Parkway, round a bend, and suddenly the Tetons are in view, exploding out of Jackson Lake into the blue sky above.

Jagged and snow crested, they make a stunning first impression.

Even with ridiculous giant pink sunglasses, I can't steal the scene from the Tetons.

My fellow trip leaders/camp crew on the shore of Jackson Lake. From left to right: Morgan, Justin (aka Abe), Justin, and Lauran.

Mt. Moran in the pale morning light.

Hiking past Leigh Lake on my way into Paintbrush Canyon.

Biscuit Basin

2008-07-23T23:32:00.002+07:00

While on a trip in Yellowstone National Park, I had some time during the middle of the day to do a short hike in Biscuit Basin. Gorgeous weather, mysterious mini-geysers and multi-colored hot springs, Mystic Falls and countless wildflowers all made for a most pleasant afternoon.

On the Henry's Fork

2008-07-23T09:08:00.001+07:00

Hands Down, The Best Fishing Day. Ever.

2008-07-23T09:01:00.002+07:00

65 trout, just like this one, all on dry flies, in one day. I need not say more.

Up On Secret Creek

2008-07-23T08:48:00.006+07:00

The Setting

The Approach

The Cast

The Take

The Reward

My First Trip

2008-07-05T08:37:00.005+07:00

Near the end of my first trip, I finally had a few free hours to explore a bit in Zion. Every day I started at 5am (or before!) and was often busy until 9 or 10pm. As I get a bit more efficient in the kitchen, I will likely free up a few more hours in the middle of the day, but my first trip was mostly non-stop. Try to imagine throwing a dinner party for 30 people, keeping in mind different dietary restrictions and the likes/dislikes of picky kids, and after they've all gone home (their tents), you sleep a few hours and get up to cook them all breakfast. And then do that six days in a row. One day I was on my feet for 18 straight hours without sitting down! Despite the long hours, the trip was quite fun and even invigorating, especially considering where I got to place my kitchen each day.

On the penultimate day, the Camp Assistant Sarah and myself had some time to hike the "Narrows", a beautiful canyon with walls rising from both sides of the Virgin River. There isn't much of a trail, one just walks up the cold river, avoiding the few deep holes, or taking a dip in them. It is a truly beautiful gorge, I am hoping to return later in the summer do traverse the entire 16 mile hike from top to bottom.

Camp Assistant (and sous chef / cake decorator) Sarah, who helped me put the artistic touches on this carrot cake.

Really? This is my job?

2008-06-28T11:53:00.002+07:00

Tomorrow I take off on my first trip as a Camp Chef with Backroads, the #1 Active Travel Company in the World (yep, already plugging away!)

I'll be cooking for 30 people as we visit Bryce Canyon, the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, and Zion National Park over the next week. No doubt my first trip is going to be hectic trying to get all the meals out on time, but hopefully I will have a bit of time to explore and relax in the parks, and play with my new camera...

More when I return next weekend!

The Mad Farmer Liberation Front

2008-06-24T19:47:00.002+07:00

A friend of mine brought this poem by Wendell Berry to my attention, and I liked it so much I thought I would pass it along (italics are mine)...

The Mad Farmer Liberation Front

Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more
of everything ready-made. Be afraid
to know your neighbors and to die.
And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card
and shut away in a little drawer.
When they want you to buy something
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know.

So, friends, every day do something
that won't compute. Love the Lord.
Love the world. Work for nothing.
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it.
Denounce the government and embrace
the flag. Hope to live in that free
republic for which it stands.
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man
has not encountered he has not destroyed.

Ask the questions that have no answers.
Invest in the millenium. Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest
that you did not plant,
that you will not live to harvest.
Say that the leaves are harvested
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.

Put your faith in the two inches of humus
that will build under the trees
every thousand years.
Listen to carrion - put your ear
close, and hear the faint chattering
of the songs that are to come.
Expect the end of the world. Laugh.
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts.
So long as women do not go cheap
for power, please women more than men.
Ask yourself: Will this satisfy
a woman satisfied to bear a child?
Will this disturb the sleep
of a woman near to giving birth?

Go with your love to the fields.
Lie down in the shade. Rest your head
in her lap. Swear allegiance
to what is nighest your thoughts.
As soon as the generals and the politicos
can predict the motions of your mind,
lose it. Leave it as a sign
to mark the false trail, the way
you didn't go. Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.

In the Canyons

2008-06-22T09:33:00.003+07:00

A View of My Kitchen

Amigos reunidos

2008-06-15T03:47:00.006+07:00

While home in NC in May, I had a great visit from my good Peace Corp
friend Andrew Wulf, who now is my good fishing buddy. He keenly took the flyrod and in no time at all was casting well and catching beautiful brookies like this one below, appropriately on a Royal Wulff.

Another good PC friend Brian joined us for a few days as well--we did a gorgeous 3-day hike on the Art Loeb trail which wanders through the Shining Rock Wilderness Area (home of Cold Mountain) in the Pisgah National Forest.

[Photos courtesy of Andrew's brand spanking new Canon]

Home on the Farm

2008-06-15T03:45:00.001+07:00

Journal Entry: April 10

2008-05-09T23:28:00.006+07:00

On a beautiful restaurant veranda overlooking the Nam Kong again, I enjoyed a perfect breakfast of steaming sweet sticky rice with mango and petroleum-thick Lao coffee. The morning seemed even stiller than yesterday afternoon, with the only sounds coming from long boats puttering across the river, passing motos, and a few birds in the trees above.

After breakfast I set off to explore on foot, first climbing the steps of the sacred Phousi Mountain, in the already sweltering heat, to see the temples and check out the views of the city, which were unfortunately masked by the thick smoke/haze. Continuing my jaunt, I walked the streets rather aimlessly until a young university student on a moto, eager to practice his English, stopped and offered to show me around. We first went up to Phon Phao Temple, a beautiful structure on a hill with better views than those at Phousi.

Later, my new friend took me to a handicraft market where local women were weaving silk and making stationary and lanterns from mulberry paper, pressed flowers, and bamboo leaves.

After a refreshing sugarcane juice, I returned to the riverside and spent the rest of the afternoon eating, drinking coconut shakes, and planning my next few days. For dinner I tried a couple of local specialties -- Phak Nam (a delightful watercress salad) and Kaipen, a river "seaweed" similar to Japanese nori, but covered with sesame seeds, garlic, and sundried tomatoes -- perhaps the most perfect beer snack.

Journal Entry: April 9

2008-05-09T21:45:00.004+07:00

In Luang Prabang I sit, overlooking the Mekong with lukewarm Beerlao, trying not to sweat and failing miserably. Sitting absolutely still, I can feel the tiny beads forming on my arms and sliding down my chest, back, and legs. Even on the eve of the Lao New Year, the town is sleepy, almost like time has been slowed to 1/4 speed. There are a few youth on the sidewalks, armed with plastic basins, throwing water on the passing motos. A few falang too, are taking part in the water fight, spraying passersby from their cafe chairs with massive water guns, but otherwise the people, both Lao and foreign, seem quite subdued--drugged by the heat and the calm of the river. The sky is smoky from the burning fields outside the town, as farmers prepare to plant. Dropping below the palm branches, the pink-orange sun is swallowed by the haze well before it sets behind the mountains on the far side of the river.

RESPECT THE LAO!

2008-05-09T21:29:00.002+07:00

Strange to be in a country with a national curfew, but nobody seemed to mind, including myself...

50 Ways to Help the Planet

2008-05-09T21:22:00.001+07:00

Here are 50 ideas...try 5 or 10 and pass them along...

http://www.wireandtwine.com/green/50/#html

Kuang Si Falls

2008-04-30T00:58:00.006+07:00

From Luang Prabang, I did a refreshing day trip to Kuang Si Falls, one of the most beautiful I have seen. The main falls are quite impressive (tho I didn't capture them with my camera), but I spent most of my time exploring the pools and cascades below. The turquoise water was perfect for swimming and the surrounding jungle was alive with songs of birds and racket of insects...

Four Book Recommendations

2008-04-28T17:22:00.003+07:00

Emergency Sex (and Other Desperate Measures)
Kenneth Cain, Heidi Postlewait, & Andrew Thomson

The title of this book does not do the stories told inside justice. Three UN workers tell their compelling and often horrifying memoirs while working in Cambodia, Somalia, Haiti, Rwanda, Bosnia, and Liberia during the 1990s. The three co-authors, who became close friends while working in Cambodia, are gifted writers and their distinct voices vividly recount experiences working in war-torn countries and in the aftermath of genocide. Shocking and fascinating both.

Confessions of an Economic Hitman
John Perkins

Though sometimes vague and lacking details which would solidify its claims, this book tells the eye-opening account of John Perkins, a so-called Economic Hitman, who worked as an economic planner for an international consulting firm for over 20 years, helping wealthy corporations exploit developing nations. Fully true or not, it is a chilling story that reveals much about how the "corporatocracy" has shaped American foreign policy over the past forty years.

Three Cups of Tea
Greg Mortensen and David Oliver Relin

I dont know what to say except "READ THIS BOOK!" No really, every American should read this book. In the vein of "Mountains Beyond Mountains", it tells an inspirational story of one man's mission to change lives-by building schools and promoting peace in central Asia. I read several reviews that called the writing "awkward", but I in no way found that the case. No matter, the story is so powerful you wont want to put it down.

Life of Pi
Yann Martel

A second reading for me, and I enjoyed it doubly this time. The captivating and adventurous storytelling is so unbelievable, it must be true. A gem of a book that has risen into my favorite fiction, and one that I will likely read a 3rd or 4th time...

Laos Photo Teaser

2008-04-27T10:55:00.007+07:00

I am finally back Phnom Penh after 17 days in Laos, a magnificent and mysterious country. Will be posting some impressions and stories this week, but for now, just a few of my favorite photos from the trip...

Funny boy in a funny paper hat.

2008-04-07T18:00:00.000+07:00

Majestic Mekong

2008-04-07T17:26:00.004+07:00

During the most recent PEPY trip, we spent a incredible afternoon spotting the rare Irawaddy River Dolphin and bathing in the Mekong River just outside the town of Kratie. Fewer than 50 of these dolphins are thought to exist in Cambodia (and fewer than 300 in the whole world), but we managed to see a number of them as they broke the surface between our boats. Beautiful creatures, but it quite sad to consider the possiblity that there will be none left in 10 years.

After a refreshing dip in some powerful river rapids, we caught a most glorious sunset on the banks of the mighty river.

Monk Takes a Drink at Angkor Wat

2008-04-07T16:35:00.002+07:00

Whirlwind

2008-03-20T17:44:00.004+07:00

I am about to start a chaotic six weeks of travelling, and rather looking forward to it. Starting Sunday, I will co-lead a week-long trip to northeastern Cambodia to close my service with PEPY. Afterwards, I will return to Phnom Penh to meet my good buddy Aaron who is coming over from Japan to travel in Cambodia with me for about a week. Just after he leaves, I'll catch a flight up to Luang Prabang to explore northern Laos and then travel down the Mekong through the heart of Indochina all the way back to Phnom Penh. Time permitting I'd like to jump back into Vietnam for some more kite-surfing, but I'm hoping to be back in North Carolina by the beginning of May so I'll just have to play it by ear.

Hard to believe I've been with PEPY for six months already. Living in Phnom Penh has certainly been a unique experience. I am quite sad to leave behind such great friends and co-workers; not since the Peace Corps have I been surrounded by such a socially and environmentally aware group of people. But, with such exciting months ahead, it's hard to feel too sentimental, especially as I am quite sure I will be seeing these PEPY folks again, whether it be in Cambodia, the US, Finland, Italy, Tanzania, or wherever the zephyrs blow me next...

Hard to leave...

2008-03-13T17:03:00.004+07:00

On my final morning in Mui Ne, I found this great cafe overlooking the fishing harbor, a truly gorgeous view. Some local teens were kind enough to snap this photo for me...

The Great White Dune of Mui Ne

2008-03-11T17:43:00.005+07:00

While in Mui Ne I did a beautiful motorbike ride along the coastline and through the micro-climate desert out to a beautiful white sand dune, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. I arrived about an hour before sunset, and was the only soul there, save a Vietnamese family and two adorable kids that lived on the edge of the dune. Brilliant light in the late afternoon, unlike I had ever seen before...though these photos don't quite capture it.

A Man Named Culture

2008-03-08T19:10:00.005+07:00

In Dalat I had a great day mountain biking through the hills, pine forests, and farms just outside of the city with a fun young guide named Hoa, whose name I was never quite able to pronounce correctly. You see, in Vietnamese, there are six different tones; thus a single syllable can be pronounced six different ways (ascending, descending, etc.) and has at least six different meanings.

In the photo, my guide explains the different tones and meanings of the syllable "Hoa", and the diacritical marks which designate each tone when written. While I was barely able to distinguish the sounds of each tone, their importance became quite clear when he explained that "Hoa" can mean "flower", "peace", "fire", "equal", "paint", "disappear", and finally the true meaning of his name, "culture". Exactly what I needed, a guide named Culture.

The biking was perfect, beginning with some challenging ascents on single track trails while climbing a small mountain, then several km of screaming downhill rushes, and capped off by cycling back into the city on a hilly and curvy sealed road through the strawberry and coffee farms. More please!

A Man Named Man

2008-03-08T18:43:00.005+07:00

In Dalat there is group of outgoing and witty motorcycle guides, collectively known as the Easy Riders, who do tours around Dalat and the Central Highlands. They are quite easy to spot as they all wear matching blue windbreakers and ride the biggest motorcycles in town, but usually they seem to find the tourists first. One stopped me today as I was walking up the street and with a most impressive sales pitch, invited me to join him for the day. Had I not already made plans to go mountain biking, I most certainly would have but I had to politely decline. However, he gave me his business card and told me to call him if I ever came back to Dalat, which I assured him I would. The first name on the business card read "Nam", which as I learned from the signs on bathroom doors, means "man" in Vietnamese (yep, its man backwards). Just to be sure, I asked him the meaning of his name and he humbly replied, though with small grin, "It's just man." Awesome.

Le Petit Paris

2008-03-07T14:05:00.003+07:00

In all my travels, Dalat is the first place I've ever been robbed (on my first night here no less), and yet it is quickly becoming one of my favorite places.

First the bad news, which was more strange than terrible, then the good news.

I'm staying in a quaint hotel on a quiet alley on a hill not far from the center of town. My second floor room has a small balcony and bathroom windows which open to the alley. Last night before going to bed, I locked the balcony door, but left the bathroom window open a bit so as to enjoy the wonderfully cool, fresh air of Dalat(in the 50s last night). I slept soundly without waking until morning. As I was dressing this a.m., I couldn't locate my wallet. So after looking through all my stuff 4 times, I checked the balcony, and saw it lying on the ground, open, next to my sunglasses case. I realized instantly what had happened, and was relieved to remember that I had less than $30, including bills from Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, and Japan that I have collected as souvenirs and always keep with me. All the cash was gone of course, but the thief was kind enough to leave the wallet and the rest of the contents. The sunglasses, too, were still in the case. The thief was defnitely in my room as he took the wallet from my pants pocket, but the sunglasses case he removed from a small bag which contained my iPod, my camera, my Visa card, and a travel billfold with about $50. None of it was taken. Peculiar. I told the woman at reception what had happened, and she just said "Oh wow! That's too bad!" Hopefully tonight I can move to a different room, just to be safe...

Otherwise, Dalat is beautiful. Located in the central highlands,,the city is lush with vegetation--everywhere you look there are flowers and trees and vegetable gardens. According to the Lonely Planet, it was once known as Le Petit Paris--complete with an Eiffel Tower replica, dozens and dozens of chic cafes, and lively, winding and hilly streets, its not hard to see why. I rented a bicycle this morning and rode around Xuan Huong Lake on the city center's edge and the gorgeous "Flower Park" which despite a few kitsch features, was most pleasant. Afterwards, I explored the winding and hilly streets, turning at whim and discovering some lovely views of the city and its vegetable farms, nestled quite perfectly into the hills. I was unfortunately driven inside this afternoon by the rain, but it gave me chance to check out the market and write this blog at the internet cafe...

Tomorrow, single track mountain biking in the forests outside of Dalat!

Home again, at the Phuong Linh Guesthouse

2008-03-04T19:52:00.002+07:00

For the past few days, I've been staying at the same guesthouse as the first time I visited Mui Ne. The mama-san, who speaks just a bit more English than I do Vietnamese, is absolutely wonderful--I am not sure if she remembers me or not, but nonetheless she is treating me like a lost-and-found son. When I arrived, she took me behind the house, out of earshot of the then-checking-out Vietnamese guests, and said in entertaining whispery English, "They, Vietnamese, 8 dollar, you you 5 dollar", all the while putting her finger over her mouth as if we were in on a great secret. I made the motion of zipping my lips, and she broke out a beaming smile. We were able to exchange names in Vietnamese, but she continues to address me, in a most endearing tone, as "you you" which I quite like. At night she all but tucks me in, making sure my mosquito net is sealed around the bed, the fan is oscillating properly, and even teaches me a few words like "sleep well" in Vietnamese. Indeed.

She also lent me the family motorbike, in fact the same motorbike I had last time with the same "I love you" heart-shaped keychain (strange what I remember...).

This afternoon I came home from the beach, bought myself a beer across the street, and started to go to my room. However, Mama-san and her daughter were sitting on the steps removing fresh mussels from their tiny shells with little thorns, and invited me over. I tried a few times, fumbling with the thorn and the mussels, so she just decided to do it for me, removing 10-12 in the time it took me to manage one. The mussels were scrumptious, tasting mostly like the sea but with a bit of sand for some crunch--a perfect beer snack! I asked what the word for "delicious" is--not sure I have the tones right but it sounds something like "Rock on!"

After a game of 3 on 3 beach soccer with some local kids and a twilight ocean swim, I returned to my guesthouse for a shower. Just after dressing there was a knock at the door--I opened it to find Mama-san waiting with an enormous plate of chilled watermelon, which was perhaps the sweetest I had ever tasted. Rock on again.

Life is good.

Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

2008-03-04T15:31:00.003+07:00

After about a dozen hours of instruction (mostly learning to control the kite), several gallons of swallowed seawater, a not-so-small dent in my bank account, learning a lot of new lingo, and shedding a layer of skin off my sunburnt shoulders, I finally got up on the board today, if only briefly. If there exists a more enjoyable or more intense sport, I know not what it entails. Kite-surfing combines so many elements, and not just the sea, sun, and sand, but of body coordination too--the hands, arms, legs, eyes, and mind all need to be concentrating on different things for everything to come together. But once you learn to synchronize everythingand the wind is zipping you across the water, the rush is incredible, like nothing I've ever felt. With snowboarding, you can just point down the mountain and go. With wakeboarding, you have the boat to get you going. With kiting, you've got to figure out how to harness the wind, and make it take you where you want to go.

Hopefully after another day riding tomorrow, I can describe further...right now I just feel giddy!

Vay-cay

2008-02-26T18:21:00.006+07:00

I'm off tomorrow for Vietnam with some friends from PEPY for a little fun & sun. Greatly looking forward to returning to Mui Ne, a laid-back little beach town east of Ho Chi Minh that I visited in December '06. Eagerly awaiting the chance to kite-surf, which I've yet to try but looks possibly like the funnest sport ever (the photo is from my trip to Boracay in the Phillipines, where I first witnessed kite-surfing)

Also planning to visit idyllic Phu Quoc Island, which appears to belong to Cambodia but is in fact controlled by Vietnam due to their strong military presence on the island.I

I'll be back the second week in March, should have plenty of photos and stories to post...

As fast as they can.

2008-02-26T16:00:00.004+07:00

Last week I had the opportunity to visit the PEPY Ride School again—what a treat! While our beloved English teacher Tolors was busy helping PEPY Ride country director Aline with a participatory rural analysis in Chanleas Dai commune, I was lucky enough to fill in and teach his English classes for several days.

I have never met a group of students so eager to learn as the 4th, 5th, and 6th graders at PRS. The 4th and 5th graders have had English for less than 6 months and yet already know more than many of my 2nd and 3rd year students knew while I was teaching in Japan. The 6th graders are simply amazing, absorbing the material faster than I could teach. They are so quick to understand instructions and to respond to questions, it truly makes teaching easy.

For those uninitiated with the Cambodian school system, school days are divided in two sessions, with half the students attending in the morning, and the other half in the afternoon. PEPY offers optional English and computer classes to students who wish augment their education. While teaching, there always seem to be several students lingering in the doorway of the English classroom or peering in through the windows. These students I assume are either enrolled in the other session, or as often is the case, have come to school to find their teacher absent (Cambodian teachers are paid abysmally, and sometimes simply just don’t come to school). Such was the case for three 6th grade girls, and yet instead of returning home or running off to play with their friends, they attended all 6 of my lessons one day. Incredible.

While I quite enjoy working in the PEPY office, it was refreshing to return to the countryside and the classroom and to remember again one of my reasons for coming Cambodia—improving education. Certainly I got as much out of the lessons as the kids—its impossible not to feel inspired after spending several days with such keen and delightful students.

Downtown Phnom Penh

2008-02-18T18:38:00.000+07:00

Phnom Penh is an increasingly cosmopolitan city, but its not rare to see the following while cruising through the streets...

On two wheels...

2008-02-09T14:58:00.001+07:00

Last weekend six PEPY folks and myself did a great bike trip from Phnom Penh down to the coastal town of Kep. We cycled about 220km over two days, both on paved highways and red-dirt backroads, the latter being far more pleasant. Biking is such an incredible way to travel here, everything goes by at just the right speed. Even in the countryside, the roadside is quite a lively place, there seems to be an endless stream of children and adults on bikes, motos, and foot, all offering wide smiles, "hello goodbyes", and "whatyournames?". Plus there are plenty of places to stop for a fresh coconut, made-on-the-spot sugarcane juice (my fav) and bottled water. Fantastic trip, capped off by a quick dip in the ocean and then an afternoon of eating and hammocking on a veranda overlooking the Gulf of Thailand.

The coconut bike.

Peppi (not PEPY) greets some oxcart drivers.

They don't have too many kids' bikes here, so they just learn to ride big ones!

Newly painted wat in the countryside.

Daniela and a great lady who chatted with us briefly when we stopped to check directions.

The Optimism of Uncertainty

2008-01-30T18:04:00.000+07:00

I highly recommend reading Howard Zinn's new book, A Power Governments Cannot Suppress. It is an excellent collection of essays about American history, government, race, justice, class, and individuals who stand up for what they believe. So many passages I could quote, but I'll just give you one from the closing page (which by no means spoils the rest, it in fact made me want to start again!)

"What we choose to emphasize in this complex history will determine our lives. If we see only the worst, it destroys our capacity to do something. If we remember those times and places--and there are so many--where people have behaved magnificently, it energizes us to act, and raises at least the possibility of sending this spinning top of a world in a different direction. And if we do act, in however small a way, we don't have to wait for some grand utopian future. The future is an infinite succession of presents, and to live now as we think human beings should live, in defiance of all that is bad around us, is itself a marvelous victory."

Pointing the Finger in the Mirror

2008-01-26T09:00:00.000+07:00

I wrote the following as an article for the PEPY Newsletter, but wanted to include it here as well.

“We as people, even though it may seem insignificant, need to start taking small steps towards change. Everyday we should be doing something that means something, because if everybody does a little something then the whole begins to shift.”

It is simple truths like this from Mickey Sampson, the founder of Resource Development International, that make him so captivating. Sampson, a former university chemistry professor, moved his family to Cambodia 10 years ago and soon after founded RDI. A self-admitted science nerd with a short attention span, he overflows with ideas and captures the attention of all around, his speech jumping naturally from scientific to layman, from serious facts to self-deprecating humor. A tour of the RDI facility with Sampson is inspiring, and it is challenging to absorb the immense amount of information he is so eager to convey. Combining education, technology, and sincerity, Mickey and his team at RDI manage a wide range of projects that empower Cambodians to help themselves.

RDI’s primary focus has been increasing access to clean water for rural Cambodians. Each year, easily preventable water-born diseases kill thousands of Cambodians. To tackle this problem, RDI has implemented many projects, including water filtration, arsenic testing, rainwater harvesting, and water pumps for rural wells. Finding practical and sustainable solutions to these problems is challenging, and Sampson recognizes that it’s not feasible to just give things away because people must feel a sense of ownership, empowerment, and agency in the betterment of their lives and health. Says Sampson, “We’ve got to take good business principles with good development principles, and meld those two so that we can really impact people.”

One of the most extensive projects at RDI is the production and marketing of inexpensive ceramic filtration systems, which are manufactured by a team of Cambodians at the RDI facility outside Phnom Penh. The simple ceramic filters, which look like large clay flowerpots, can remove 99.5% of all germs and bacteria from rainwater and surface water. The filters, placed inside a large plastic water storage container, provide a dependable point-of-use solution for Cambodians who do not have access to clean water. At $8, the simple systems are affordable and, in areas where many families purchase charcoal to boil drinking water, they pay for themselves in less than three months. If maintained correctly, the filters can be used indefinitely.

RDIC has also designed water pumps for use at rural wells. These simple rope pumps, made of inexpensive and easily acquired materials, are extremely efficient. RDI currently sells the pumps on a rent-to-own basis. For $240, RDI will dig a well and install the pump and cement apron. A community or group of families can collectively purchase the pump by paying $10/month for two years. Additionally, monthly visits to the communities give RDI ample opportunities to monitor the pumps and teach lessons about health and environment. By the end of 2008, this project will be completely self-funding--the revenue from monthly payments will equal the cost of installing new pumps. Development is now reaching a level where RDI does not need to ask donors for money for these sustainable programs, because Cambodians are the integral part of the development process and are helping other Cambodians.

One of the most striking things about RDI is their continual effort to improve their projects and processes. For example, the water filter program presently uses the waste cuttings from rubber tree plantations to fire the ceramic filter kilns. However, RDI wants to stop using wood completely, and is currently designing machines to produce compressed rice husk logs to use as fuel instead. Rice husks, essentially a waste product in Cambodia, are transformed into a valuable resource.

Sampson notes that many development projects fail because organizations become donor-driven and lose sight of their goals. This unfortunately can lead to organizations focusing on what they have accomplished, rather than the impact of those efforts. For example, there are a number of organizations in Cambodia investing millions of dollars in wells across the country. However, by Sampson’s estimates, “30% of those wells will be unsafe for human consumption or are undesirable” because those same organizations do not test the wells to make sure they are safe.

To tackle this critical issue, RDI developed a program to test the safety of wells in Cambodia. Beginning in Kandal province, they extensively mapped the water quality by testing over 2500 wells. Yet some development organizations, who install wells at a cost of $2,000, are unwilling to pay for the $25 tests simply because they do not know what to do about the problems that may arise. Unfortunately, by ignoring the problem and charging ahead with their number-driven goals, these well-meaning organizations are actually making matters worse, and in some cases, killing Cambodians. RDI hopes to continue mapping other provinces as well and makes all of their data public by posting the information on the Internet. By doing so, other organizations become legally accountable for placing wells in unsafe areas.

Sampson says, “We want be the small little ant that bites and really hurts so the big people have to do something about it. And that’s what we want. We’re about people, and I think that’s the thing that oftentimes gets lost in development. This is people we are talking about.”

Sampson is quick to point out that while RDI does not have the financial resources of some of the larger development organizations, he also knows those same organizations lack creativity and are slow to change. It is his hope that by implementing sustainable and resourceful projects that empower Cambodians, RDI will serve as a model for other development organizations to follow. With the help of his talented team, a wealth of ingenious ideas, and a commitment to the people of Cambodia, Sampson is truly making change.

For more information about RDI and their on-going projects, please visit www.rdic.org.

Help PEPY win $50,000

2008-01-23T09:39:00.000+07:00

I really don't like asking for money, but its for a good cause, so maybe you can help us out. Here goes...

For only $10, you can help The PEPY Ride organization win $50,000!!!!

PEPY, the organization where I work, is currently part of a fundraising challenge. If we can get 800 people to donate at least $10 each, we will be in the running to win $50,000.

http://www.networkforgood.org/pca/Badge.aspx?BadgeId=109979

We are one month late into this competition, and it ends at the end of this month. However, if we all do it and get a 5-10 of our friends and family to donate as well, it an easily accomplished goal!

It takes 5 minutes. It costs you $10. So simple.

$50,000 would be an enormous contribution to PEPY, and could help us fund a program (together with Rural Development International) to deliver monthly educational videos and health training to schools this year, with a goal of 100 schools onboard in the coming year.

PLEASE HELP! DO IT NOW! THE CLOCK IS TICKING!

New Stuff

2008-01-09T18:20:00.000+07:00

Young 1st-grader at the PEPY Ride School, overjoyed at her new toothbrush and plastic cup. Or maybe it was my camera with the bright flashing light.

All smiles

2008-01-09T18:00:00.000+07:00

One of the days we visited the temples of Angkor, a group of 4th grade students from the PEPY Ride School joined us. Each PEPY participant matched up with a buddy for the day. In the photo with me is my buddy Duan, who barely spoke the entire morning, but warmed considerably after lunch, where I watched him polish off 4 heaping plates of food. My rainbow rigatoni bling-bling was a Xmas gift, courtesy of 7yr old PEPY participant Michael.

Face of Stone

2008-01-09T17:40:00.000+07:00

I've now been to the Bayon temple three times...on each occasion the some 200 almost-smiling faces have left me speechless.

Boeng Mealea

2008-01-06T17:29:00.000+07:00

The following photos are all from Boeng Mealea temple, perhaps the most visually stunning place I've visited in Cambodia. The temple has been completely reclaimed by the jungle, with roots, trunks, limbs, and lush greenery growing in, on, between, through, and over the massive cut stones. Though perhaps trite to describe it as such, it did indeed feel like a scene from a Indiana Jones movie. Most of the outer walls are still standing, and inside is a child's ultimate playground. Piles of rubble, secret passage ways, countless things to climb, fantastic carvings of ancient figure--it would be an incredible venue for a game of Capture the Flag!

We had an excellent tour guide, but I was much too busy exploring the ruins on my own to listen, so I learned very little of the temple's history.

Happy Ch'nam Thmey

2008-01-06T09:22:00.000+07:00

I am finally back after a nearly month-long hiatus. December found me quite busy with office work and countless hours in front of my laptop, hence I had no desire to blog. For two weeks over the holidays I co-lead a PEPY Tour. It was a great experience for me as I got to meet some fantastic people, share some ideas/knowledge/experience with them, and see some of Cambodia that I had not before. I suppose it will take me awhile to catch up completely, so I'll start with a few photos and captions from the past few weeks.

Yep, this is a big bowl of fried tarantulas, for sale on the roadside. The vendor assured me they were delicious and was quite miffed when I refused.

A spool of silk at the silk farm/production facility outside Siem Reap.

Ancient Khmer script on the wall of one of Koh Ker's temples.

Standing in one of the many temple portals. Stepping through them is truly like entering another world.

Early morning, near Prasat Thom ("the big temple") of Koh Ker, a former capital of the Khmer civilization.

FINNDEPENDENCE

2007-12-09T12:54:00.000+07:00

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

2007-12-02T11:43:00.000+07:00

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

2007-12-01T07:15:00.000+07:00

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?

2007-11-24T08:57:00.000+07:00

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

2007-11-23T09:34:00.000+07:00

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

2007-11-21T19:03:00.000+07:00

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

2007-11-08T06:35:00.000+07:00

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

2007-10-27T09:44:00.000+07:00

Bokor Hill Station

2007-10-27T08:33:00.000+07:00

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

2007-10-25T15:07:00.000+07:00

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

2007-10-18T18:56:00.000+07:00

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

2007-10-17T18:15:00.000+07:00

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

2007-10-07T10:06:00.000+07:00

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.

PEPY school visit

2007-10-05T07:53:00.001+07:00

This is a blog I wrote for the PEPY website about a recent trip to one of our schools. Its work-related so perhaps a slighty dry, but offers a bit of insight to some of PEPY's efforts.

A girl named Steve

2007-09-28T07:00:00.000+07:00

Below, a few photos from last weekend in Sihanoukville, a popular beach town about 4 hours outside Phnom Penh. Two relaxing days, which included lots of cheap eats on the beach, a visit to "The Snake Pit", 872 humorous interactions with kid vendors on the beach (who insisted I was English), pineapple-coconut shakes, perhaps the biggest lunar halo I've ever seen, and fun times with new Cambodian friends.

Happy Hour, indeed.

25c draft beer AND Free Thank You!

Fresh squid on a stick.

Where you from? England? Canada? Sweeden? NZ? Wales? That's right, 10 year-old Cambodian beach kids guess Wales before America when they see a white foreigner. Maybe all is right in the world after all.

Candlelight dinner party of 10, just meters from the breaking surf. A fabulous feast of food (curries, soups, amok, grilled seafood platters, coconut prawns, etc.), total bill $36. Steve is third from the right.

???

2007-09-27T16:40:00.000+07:00

Her hand rests ever so gently on my knee. There is a voice too, not much more audible than a whisper. At first, I try to ignore it, for I know she can only want one thing. Money.

Nearly everywhere a foreigner might go in Phnom Penh, there are children, elderly, handicapped people, and landmine victims asking for money. They are soft-spoken and gentle, but they are always there, holding out hands. There are arguments for and against giving them money, and I've yet to decide on which side of the fence I sit. Presently, I am seated in a tuk-tuk, waiting for the friendly driver Thou (pronounced "Too"), to return from the bus ticket window with my ticket. I am amazed how much people will do for you for the slightest of profit. For about about $1.50 more than the ticket, Thou kindly arranged the booking, picked me up, and delivered me to the bus station.

The hand gives my knee a slight squeeze. I turn to face the older woman. Her eyes capture mine immediately; they are black and cloudy, the pupil not discernible from the iris. She whispers pleadingly "nyam, nyam", one of the few Khmer words I know. "Eat, eat". At the moment, I think I have never seen a face so full of despair. I know I've never known the pain and suffering this woman has, and for the briefest of moments, I wonder how I could bring a smile to this poor woman's face. However, Thou returns, and I am ripped from this thought, distracted by tickets and and my bag and trying to pay Thou with a combination of dollar and riel bills. He shakes my hand with a big smiley "Aukun" (thank you) and points me over to the bus.
In minutes I am seated and reading, poor woman forgotten for the moment. But shortly, staring at the pages of my book, I see her nebulous eyes again, and they cause me to question my own humanity. How could I, privileged as I've been, not bear to part with even the 12 cents this woman wanted for a bit of rice? It doesn't help that I am reading about Paul Farmer, perhaps one of the most dedicated, compassionate people on earth. My guilt lasts until I arrive at the beach in Sihanoukville, where I give away a few thousand riel to the first beggars who approach me, and still don't feel better.

K'nyom mok bpi srok Amerik.

2007-09-21T06:51:00.000+07:00

Before I came to Cambodia, I was told that the Khmer language, not being tonal like the other SE Asian languages, was fairly easy to pronounce. That's a big, fat lie. Its easy to pronounce the same way its easy to understand Superstring theory. In place of tones, there are umpteen vowels (more than 30 I am told), which my dictionary correctly states are "notoriously difficult to romanize", along with consonants that are aspirated and non-aspirated (whatever that may mean) or even swallowed, and a host of words with impossible 1- syllable sounds like "ngup" "bpram" "dtou" "ch'ngañ" and "tlay". Go ahead, give em a try, especially "ngup".

Despite the sound barriers, I have jumped right into Khmer lessons and am busy chopping the language to bits. Once a week I have a lesson with a couple other PEPY interns. Our teacher Rany, a young woman of about 25, is very kind, but proceeds at a furious pace. The method goes something like this: Rany introduces a new phrase, I try in vain to reproduce the sound, so she says it 3 more times, I write some letters that might or might not come close to representing the words, then say it again, she compliments my pronunciation though obviously wrong, and finally she says it the correct way again. Proceed to next phrase.

I also found another tutor, Sokkhy, who has agreed to give me an additional 2 lessons per week. I've made a bit more progress with her because the lessons are one-on-one. Also, she is a bit more honest about my horrendous pronunciation, and doesn't let me move on until I've come reasonably close. The content of our lessons has been quite varied so far. I've learned some basics like my name, age, and marital status of course, but also some rather useless things like "One kilo of rambutans costs 2000 riels." and "I would like to buy a man sarong for wearing." However, Sokkhy is incredibly patient and today I learned some more helpful phrases such as "I'm sorry", "I like banana", and "I want to eat amok." (In this case, amok being a traditional Khmer food rather than a mad murderous frenzy).

On the flip, the grammar and structure of the language is straightforward and not so different from English. Perhaps the most brilliant feature is that the verbs have no tense whatsoever. I ate, I eat, and I will eat are all the same: K'nyom nyam. I am fairly sure there is no conjugation either, though the verbs may change with respect to whom you are talking. For example, there are completely different verbs for "to eat", depending on if you are talking to a child, someone of the same social status, an elder, or the king. In fact, yesterday I was told there are no less than 8 words for "to eat".

Seriously though, even as I struggle with the pronunciation, I am enjoying learning a completely new tongue. We have a couple Cambodia staff who are encouraging my efforts--always asking what I learned in the most recent lesson. They got a huge kick out of my "I would like to buy a man sarong" expression and offered to take me to the market. So, I have no idea how far I will get with the language, but it will most certainly be a fun and humorous process.