Cambodia - Part 13

Tuesday 17th July 2007

Stir fried

So my last entry was a bit of a diatribe. Apologies – I may have misrepresented myself a little. I was just bored more than anything. I am ok. I am not going crazy. But I do miss home a little…

In the last few weeks the wet season has well and truly set in. It rains heavily most days and everything gets wet. The dirt roads to many of the villages become muddy bogs and are impassable. It is also school holidays at the moment. It is timed to coincide with the wet season. My Khmer teacher has been busy overseeing examinations and getting papers graded for the end of school year exams. As a result my Khmer has taken a bit of a back burner, but that is cool.

Lots of kids are out playing and wondering around. I have seen a few looking very Huckleberry Finn with their straw hats, bicycles and fishing rods down by the river. The kids aren’t put off by the rain; they just go out and play in it. It is still hot and muggy even when it rains. Apparently, when it floods you can catch fish swimming along the roads. Maybe I should have bought a boat instead of a moto…

Two weekends ago was a quite weekend for me. Shin went to Phnom Penh, but I had some work to do, so I stayed in Kampong Thom with the house to myself. On Saturday morning I woke up early and couldn’t get back to sleep. I decided I needed to do something and jumped on my moto in the direction of Phnom Santuk; a little ‘mountain’ about half an hours ride from Kampong Thom. The Khmers call this a mountain, but I am not so sure it really qualifies. It isn’t that tall. It is 810 uneven steps to be precise. Although, it does stand out in contrast to the flat plains around it – you can see it from miles away. On my way there I was thinking it would be so nice to do some exercise climbing the mountain and then relax peacefully with my thoughts, soaking up the view. But this is Cambodia, I should have realised - you are never alone. As soon as I got to the base of the mountain I was flooded with wannabe guides. One jumped on the back of my moto and pointed out the road that leads up the mountain. So off we went.

Climbing the mountain on a moto was actually quite scary. With two of us on the bike I had to keep slipping it into first to get up the step bits. I really gave the bike a thrashing. But it was nowhere near as scary as coming down the mountain. I let the guide drive down and just hung on for my life. Most of the way we didn’t even have to turn the bike on, we just rolled with the brakes on. Who needs roller coasters?

Up on top of the mountain was a pagoda, a series of Buddha’s carved into the rocks, a footprint from Buddha himself and a magnificent view – long flat stretches of green rice paddies dotted with wooden houses and clumps coconut trees as far as the eye could see.

After we got back down, I decided I still needed to do some exercise and that I should climb the stairs anyhow. I really am out of shape. I may have lost weight here, but I have also lost any semblance of fitness I had as well. I probably wouldn’t have felt so bad if my guide hadn’t looked so fresh and taken the liberty of fanning me down as we climbed…I was streaming with sweat by the time I reached the top and felt like I was going to have a heart attack. How far away is the nearest hospital?

On the way back from Santuk I decided to pull in and have a look at the stone cavers and a drum maker who maker who sell their goods along the main road. I found a little stone elephant which I bought for the house, but its ear fell off on the ride home.

Aside from that, that weekend was fairly dull and I was bored out of my mind by Sunday evening. Sometimes, it gets tedious speaking in broken English/Khmer and having to travel so far to do anything. The other day I was day dreaming about ordering in a pizza and chilling out on the couch watching a DVD. For some reason our TV channels have changed and we no longer get some of the English speaking channels (including my favourite – the Australia network). So my TV options are even more limited than before. Our only source of English speaking news is CNN which bites – talk about sensationalistic…and now we get the fashion channel (seriously – what is the point?).

Last weekend I went to Phnom Penh for a welcome dinner for the new batch of volunteers arriving from Australia on Friday night. There are 15 new volunteers and only one is male. We were joking that it would be really funny if he was gay. He wasn’t and the poor guy was clearly hanging for some male company after being stuck with the girls all week. Nearly everyone from my intake was there and it was nice catching up with them all.

So we took the new kids out on the town. I was hanging to dance off my stir craziness and we hit a few pubs around the town. The last one we went to was little place with a mix of Khmer and foreigners overlooking the river. We carved up on the dance floor into the wee hours, partly thanks to ‘the Mexican’ (A Khmer guy wearing a sombrero and poncho) who kept us well lubricated with tequila shots. One can’t help but wonder about ‘the Mexican’ – how serious does he take being ‘the Mexican’? Does he wear those clothes all the time? Does he have ‘la cucaracha’ as the horn on his moto? Do his kids have to call him ‘papa’? Does he have little cactuses out front of his house? So many questions…

The next day Lainie and I were feeling shady, but pulled it together enough to meet our friends Tim and Ags at the Hotel Continental for yum cha. The food was awesome. We ate so much I couldn’t move after. I think I am going to have to go to China and just eat for a few days. Kicks ass on Khmer cuisine.

After lunch Lainie and I did some shopping before heading down to the river front and took a sunset cruise along the Mekong/Tonle Sap rivers (Phnom Penh is built around where these two major rivers meet). We got a little boat to ourselves and just chilled with a couple of beers. It was so nice just to relax and take in the city from the water. There is a haze that descends over the city which gives it a romantic feel (alas it is probably just pollution and dust).

That night we had a quiet night. Just a little dinner and a few drinks. We were staying at a little guesthouse near the river front called the ‘Bogie and Becall’. It was a nice, clean and friendly little place. But Lainie noted that there were no other female guests staying there. When I noticed an ad for the place highlighting that they had ‘beautiful girls’ we started to get a little suspicious. Our suspicions were confirmed on Saturday night when we walked into the bar down stairs and it was full of older foreign men and young Khmer girls. You just can’t pick them sometimes. It turns out we were staying in an area where that sort of thing went on. I am not saying it was a brothel, but it was definitely not just a guesthouse either. Oh well, they did a good fry up breakfast…

So Pyjamas. People here love them here. Ladies wear them everywhere and kids wear the shorts around. I guess they are comfortable and light. They are often bright red, orange or yellow with little cartoon pictures dotted all over them. It is quite cute and funny at the same time. It’s like they are always ready for a nap. Sometimes when I am talking to store holders in the market I just want to say ‘Hey. Nice PJs’.

Work has been a bit like the weather lately. Sometimes there is stacks to do, sometimes there is nothing. I have decided to set myself a little project to improve the management of the organisation and develop a strategic plan. That should keep me occupied in the low times.

On a side note – my boss sold his fake Lexus. He didn’t tell me why.

Sorry I haven’t posted any pictures of late, but I haven’t taken any. I decided to make a claim for my camera and my glasses. But making an insurance claim in the middle of Cambodia isn’t quite straight forward. Anyways, I hope to get another one soon.

I hope everyone is well. I miss you all.
by-e.

Cambodia - Part 12

Wednesday 18th July 2007

Midnight ramblings

It late on a Tuesday night. Or to be more precise Wednesday morning. I can’t sleep. Again. Despite the fact that I am exhausted and there is nothing more I want in the world right now. It has been happening quite regularly of late. My mind just starts racing with thoughts and I can’t relax. It starts off like and drip and then it’s like a flood of thoughts. Crazy and often disjointed thoughts - Thoughts about my friends and family, about my relationships, about people I haven’t seen in years. Thoughts about things I have done in the past, about the people I have met here and the things I have seen, about things that I have said and the things I am going to say, thoughts about my future, my childhood and my dreams. Thoughts and creations; weird day dreams, delusions and thoughts analysing my thoughts. Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts, so many thoughts. Why am I thinking so much? Can’t I stop thinking?

I know I am not the only one – Shin and Lainie have both complained about this too. Occasionally this sort of thing happens at home, but no where near as frequent as it has been happening here. I think it is a side effect of both being isolated and being in a place where I have limited interactions with people and where there is no escape from myself.

I have come to the realisation recently that the hardest part about this whole Cambodia gig is not living in different culture, eating exotic foods, not having hot water, or occasionally electricity, or learning another language. It is not dealing with endemic corruption or even dealing with severe poverty and all the associated problems with that. It is not trying to establish relationships with people who have a completely different outlook to you. It is dealing with your self; dealing with your own thoughts and preoccupations. Where ever you go - there you are.

Outside your comfort zone, away from all the usual distractions and routines, there is one thing left – you. And that becomes very apparent over time.

It isn’t that far to Phnom Penh, 3 hours on a bus, but sometimes even that feels like a lifetime away. Still, even though it has lots of cool western style restaurants with familiar food, friends who speak English as a first language and the hustle of a city – home it is not.

When I have travelled before I have revelled in my ability to rely on myself. To get by in a foreign place where I don’t speak the language and don’t fully understand the customs. It makes you feel independent and gives you faith in you’re ability. It is a great empowering feeling. Especially when you conquer your fears in doing it. I can do anything.

But this feeling is different. After you stop being consumed by the exotic and quirky aspects of a different country or the excitement of living somewhere totally new and different, something else starts to happen.

I have so much time by myself, with myself, in my own head. During the course of a day I am often find myself sitting in meetings not understanding what is going on, or sitting in a crowded restaurant not understanding a word that is being said around me. Sometimes, when Shin is not around, I go days without a normal conversation in English. And my mind starts to drift.

I am away from the comfort of my routine, of my culture, of my friends and family. I am away from the things I use to distract myself – TV, alcohol, music, eating. I am away from the people I talk to about things when I think I think too much. Away from all those things that I have in my life that stop me from facing those big and difficult questions about myself and away from the mechanisms I have incorporated in my life to deal with difficult problems. So I can’t help but wonder. Who am I? What am I about? What do I really value? What do I really believe? What is life all about? And I dissect and re-evaluate. Perhaps a little too much.

Now I often thought it was a bit self indulgent when people go places to try and ‘find themselves’. But I am coming to realise a bit more what people really mean by statements like that. I have moved outside the framework of my normal life in a way and can now look back in on it. I can see things from a new angle, a new perspective. It is all something rather strange and in many ways unexpected. I didn’t expect it to be this intense.

I have my moments where I feel like I am over Asia and I yearn for the simple things of home – pizza on the couch and a DVD or a few beers down the pub with my mates. For a while I thought it was Cambodia. But now I realise that it is more about me. I value the ease and comfort of being able to get takeaway and chill out on the couch watching movies. I value that for many reasons, but perhaps mostly because it is much easier than facing myself; facing my own demons and emotions. Facing those things I keep hidden from view – out the sight of others and out of sight from myself.

It strikes me that people in western culture put a lot of effort into distracting themselves, of avoiding all these tough questions and thoughts. Some people throw themselves into exercise or work – try to exhaust themselves so they don’t have to face them. Some people try to find meaning in religion, history or politics. Some people overindulge or seek pleasure in alcohol or drugs or TV or food or whatever just to avoid it. Some people try to deal with it or distract themselves through a medium like painting or writing. And some people flee from it all and travel. Or, perhaps more likely, everyone does a combination of all the above for a plethora of reasons. But mostly it comes back to the same thing. We find facing ourselves difficult.

But why is it so hard?

I guess that we are all scared. Scared that there might be no meaning, scared that there might be nothing else, scared that we are alone, scared of not being loved, scared of not being understood or accepted, scared that we can’t let ourselves be understood or accepted, scared that we might have got it all wrong, that life is not how we thought it was. Or perhaps this is just my fears.

Either way, without wanting to sound like some new age philosopher, I think it all comes down to love and respect. I think that everyone desires this. Simple. You give it and you receive it.

This is not a new revelation for me. It has been sitting in my mind for a long time. I have always had a strong faith in people and their ability to help each other. I still dream of a fairer more peaceful world where everyone can just get along. I hope I can contribute to this, even in some small way. I hope what I am doing now is a good thing and I hope that it really has some meaning, some impact. But I doubt it. It is but a drop in the ocean. The problems are so big and some convoluted it will take years and years to change. I must accept that I am only one person, and one person can make a difference…

Peace and Love
Erin

Cambodia - Part 11

Wednesday 12th of July 2007

Hallelujah for hot water!!!

It’s official – I have hot water in my house!!! It only produces a little trickle and the lights dim when you switch the system on, but it is hot and it is glorious (after over 3 months of cold splashes in the bucket). The system is this little box that sits on the wall of the ‘bontoup tuk’ (water room) and basically acts like a really quick urn. The land lord fix it after we paid another 3 months rent in advance. And just in time. It has been getting cold. In the mornings it is dropping down to about 20 and I am really feeling it. Seriously – I find that cold these days. The water must be about 15. Freezing!!!

Despite the fact the wet season has started, it still gets up to the mid 30’s most days. We just have the 3 o’clock storm to cool things down now. And the mud. Mud everywhere. The landscape has completely changed since I first arrived. Gone are the wide dust bowls with limp trees and emaciated cows; replaced with lush green trees, vast sprouting rice paddies, pools of brown muddy water and fat cows…’water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink…’

Speaking of cows I had to shoo one out the gate the other day. It came in and grazed around for a bit while I was having my lunchtime nap. I was hoping she would eat up the lawn so we wouldn’t have to mow it with a whipper snipper again (it’s my turn – Shin did it last time). But then I had to go back to work and had to get her out before I locked the gate. Thankfully she was an agreeable little heifer and followed my lead (unlike some other little heifers I know). Don’t know what I would have done if she was stubborn. But, you know, I still have that BBQ…

I am also loving my motor bike. I thought it would be boring after a while. But no, it is still fun, especially on the dirt tracks or in the mud, although my feet get wet in the puddles. I am half thinking about doing a little trek to Thailand at the end of my assignment, maybe fanging it around Angkor Watt on my way there. Could be way fun.

As for work things are coming along well. I am finding myself busy these days. There is a lot to do in the way of proposals and working out new programs. I found out the other day that my first funding application was successful, so am pretty happy at the moment. That is a 100% success rate. It won’t last, so I am lapping it up at the moment. We are currently working out the logistics of the successful application (it is to assist HIV/AIDS affected people establish micro-businesses and earn enough of an income to support themselves and their families).

At the moment I am working on a new funding proposal to secure funds for an education and awareness campaign. The campaign will improve the understanding of people’s rights in relation to local governance, domestic violence and land rights. It will hopefully compliment and build on some other projects that we have going and have proposed.

On Thursday we will be doing the food security program again. I will be lending my muscle to move the hefty bags of rice. Should be a good work out and we get the satisfaction of feeding the poor. I feel like such a sloth these days – I haven’t exercised in weeks. But hey, I have still lost weight. Thankyou dengue.

Funny thing; my boss bought a Lexus 4WD a few weeks ago. It is white has ‘Lexus’ written down the side in big grey letters. It’s a fake. I know this mostly because my boss told me (I am no car expert). But there also some other give aways – like the Toyota badges…this place is so odd sometimes…

As you probably all know last Saturday was the 7/7/07. This date has particular relevance for the Cambodians. It is the 10 year anniversary since Hun Sen and some of the Cambodian Peoples Party (CPP) held a coup and took government from the ruling Funcinpec Party (who they were in a coalition with at the time), effectively ending the democratic system that the UN tried to implement in 1993 and yet, ironically, bringing some stability to a politically tumultuous situation. A loss of democracy for stability – seems to happen a lot to new democracies.

On the 7/7/97 there was fighting in the streets of Phnom Penh as troops loyal to the CPP fought troops loyal to Funcinpec. Motars were fired, there were skirmishes in the streets and about 70 people were killed. Two days later it was all over - Hun Sen was in power and the leader of Funcinpec was in exile and has been pretty much ever since. In the weeks that followed the coup there were a number of extra-judicial murders and a number of other people were killed. Hun Sen claims that he was protecting Cambodia from a coup from Funcinpec who had made some agreement with the Khmer Rouge. While there is some truth in this (the agreement), one has to wonder why a ruling party would hold a coup. What is left now is pretty much a single ruling party with a leader that intends to hold onto to power as long as possible, endemic corruption and superficial democracy. It is not likely this situation will change anytime soon…

The other day a land rights activist was killed with an AK47 in the west of the country. The murderer was caught a few days later in the south of the country. The Police chief said that they were lucky because the activist yelled out the name of his murderer in his dying moments. The activists wife, who was there, said he didn’t say anything like that. Then representatives from the company who he was fighting against turned up at the autopsy out of ‘curiosity’. Hmm….

Anyhow, I have also done some more travelling. I went to Siem Reap last weekend where I met up with Lainie. We headed out of town and onto Tonle Sap Lake to visit the ‘village on stilts’ (nothing like the ‘poo on sticks’ artwork in Kings Cross) and the flooded forest. It took an hour and half to get there but it was quite cool. It hadn’t rained enough for the village on stilts to flood, so you can still walk down the muddy main road. Underfoot it was littered with little shells and the houses that lined the street, well, they are on stilts. They are mostly traditional wooden houses that sit about 5 metres off ground level and many are decorated with plants from the forest. Quite nice. But the most striking thing was the lack of vehicles. To the point they have volley ball nets pulled tight across the road and you can walk the street with no worries of being hit by a moto. We had lunch on the balcony of one of the locals houses and looked out across the village and then headed of to the forest.

The forest was also nice, but would be better in the middle of the wet season when the boats can weave between the branches of the trees. As it was, the water was fairly low and we went along the side. It was strange to see so many trees clumped so thickly together. Over the years Cambodia has lost much of its forests. Most of it went over the border to Thailand where they built those lovely wooden resorts and souvenirs…

While we were in Siem Reap, by chance, we bumped into our other friends Tim and Ags. One Saturday we caught up with them at the laundry bar in Siem Reap – a funky little bar off the main tourist strip. Because it is low season for tourists, most of the bars are empty and the tuk tuk drivers are particularly keen for business. It also means there is a lot of building happening. The place changes so quickly. But I digress. Over a few shandies, Tim and I devised a dastardly mullet growing competition. Where else are we going to get away with it than in Cambodia?? We have three months to grow a mullet that will impress our friends and families. Despite warnings from the doctor that I might loose it, I still have a full and fertile head of hair post dengue. In fact, I could use a hair cut. Game on.

Ciao.
Erin

Cambodia - Part 10

Sunday 1st July 2007

Study Tours and Dengue Fever

Dengue fever sucks. No two ways about it. It just bites. It is like having the flu really really badly – your body aches, cracking headaches, you burn up, get the shivers, you can’t eat, you eyes constantly burn, a metallic taste fills your mouth, an ugly rash appears and you feel nauseous. And then, just when you start to think you are getting better, you become overwhelmed by dizziness and exhaustion every time you stand up. You just have to lie around and get through it. But then comes the boredom. Apparently, I have hair loss to look forward to as well…

So, dengue - yeah, I’ve had it. I reckon that makes me hardcore now. It is also makes me the first amongst my intake to get dengue. We had a bet going to see who would get dengue or malaria first. I took line honours by two days when two of the other girls from Battambong showed up at the emergency clinic in Phnom Penh with distinctly similar symptoms. It turns out there is something of an epidemic in dengue through out Cambodia at the moment. Worst in 20 years. People are dropping like flies. Well, dropping like the little white and black day time mosquitos they carry the fever. Heaps of westerners came into the clinic while I was there. Everyone looked like crap.

When I first came down with it, I was in Sihanoukville. I had spent the night burning up, feeling awful, tossing and turning in a hotel bed. I had to go home via Phnom Penh anyhow, so decided to leave early and go see a doctor. I got to Phnom Penh after a four hour bus ride feeling worse – I had started turning blue and had the shivers really bad (due in part to the arctic air conditioning on the bus), despite the fact my temperature was almost 40. At the clinic they put me straight to bed and I had to spend 24 hours on a drip. Some of my mates in PP heard that I was sick and came down to visit. So, it wasn’t so bad in the clinic – I had my own nurse and they got me food from one of the nicest hotels in PP (not that I could eat it).

Eventually, my temperature came down and they released me from the clinic on the proviso that I didn’t ride any moto’s, I had someone to check up on me and I could come back every few days for a check up/blood test. The first few days I spent with Lainie in a hotel room – she bore the brunt of my moaning and generally whiney state, but was a complete angel about it. The next few days I spent at my friends Kate, Bek and Sophie’s house, in their spare room. By the end of the week I had watched so much crap TV (including all six episodes of star wars) and was sooo bored I was almost bouncing off the walls, but my white blood cells and platelet count had improved and I could go home.

So here I am - back at home in Kampong Thom, feeling good for the first time in a week and a half. Allegedly, I got off lightly. I was only knocked out for a little over a week. Dengue can be far worse and in some cases even fatal (mostly in children). But I got into the doctor pretty early and my body started making anti-bodies fairly quickly. On the up side I am l unlikely to get it again in Cambodia – there are several strands, but I have had the common one found in Cambodia. We will see. If I catch one of the other strands, it will be worse. Far worse.

While I was in the clinic I signed a waiver, so I could be flown to Bangkok hospital for medical treatment if necessary. Alas, it wasn’t necessary. Shame – I could have gone shopping…and I could have flown someone in to ‘look after me’.

So, it is nice to be back in Kampong Thom. I haven’t been here for over two weeks. It so peaceful here compared to the ‘big’ city of Phnom Penh.

Speaking of which I have a bit of bone to pick on the pronunciation of ‘Phnom Penh’. There are no silent ‘p’ in Khmer language. You pronounce the ‘p’ at the start of Phnom Penh. Somewhere, someone started saying ‘Nom Penh’ and now every traveller says it. It is infuriating. And it is wrong. Speak to some Khmer people – they pronounce the ‘p’ at the start. If anything they draw out the ‘e’ in penh more so it sounds more like p-eh-n. ‘Phnom’ it means mountain. If you want to anglicise surely you should say ‘fnom’ and be a real wanker. Sorry. It’s been bothering me.

And another thing – while I am dispelling myths about Cambodia – there are heaps of old people here. Admittedly a lot died during Pol Pot’s reign, but there are still heaps of them. I think that visitors might get the wrong impression, firstly, because Khmer people all look so young and, secondly, because the tourist areas attract young workers who have learnt to speak English. But there are heaps of older Khmers. Many of whom can speak French and attempt to speak it with people like me. Thankfully, I know how to say ‘I don’t speak French’ in both French and Khmer and English.

But I digress - back to my adventures.

As I mentioned, I was in Sihanoukville when I got sick. Sihanoukville is right down in the south of Cambodia on the Gulf of Thailand. There are beaches and hotels and bars and karaoke places and a massive problem with sex tourism (and the associated problems with that). Now to dispel another myth – the problem is both with Khmer people and foreigners. Although there are quite a few sleazy looking foreigners milling about, there are far more sleazy Khmer guys. They go down to the karaoke bars get drunk with the boys, singing and dancing, and then all the boys rock down the local brothel or hotel and sleep with their ‘girlfriends’ (girlfriend is often used as a euphemism for a sex worker). Inevitably, their girlfriends have contracted HIV and pass it onto their boyfriends who then pass it on to their wives and the rest of their family. A side effect of this is that there are increased numbers of orphans and vulnerable children, who then with a lack of support from their parents, are more open to being exploited by employees and child sex tourists. And the cycle goes on…

This is not to say Sihanoukville is ugly. Quite the contrary, it is the nicest part of Cambodia that I have been to. The long drive there winds through thick green tropical mountains. Absolutely beautiful. And the beach – well it’s a beach, with surf, islands, bungalows, bars and boats. Unfortunately we were there on a study tour rather than a holiday, so I got to see the ugly side as well.

It was great to go swimming though. I even tried to teach some of the guys from the office how to swim. But they refused to put their heads under the water properly, so I gave up. The first time we went swimming the guys from the office saw my hairy chest for the first time and I heard the words ‘oh my god, you are hairy like a monkey’. I told them that in Australia you are not considered a man unless you could grow hair on your chest. That shut them up. Well, for a little bit.

While we were on the beach we saw quite a few western women getting around in bikini’s. The Khmer girls go in pretty much fully clothed, so it really stands out when someone is wearing a bikini and they are white. It looked to me like they were practically naked. A point not missed by the guys from the office, who got very excited when a near naked women walked passed. One, to my dismay, even broke out some binoculars. I am not sure who was more in the wrong though – the guys for drooling so much over a little bit of flesh or the girls for not being culturally sensitive.

Study tour - another euphemism. When it was first mentioned that we were going on a ‘study tour’ I thought ‘cool, a couple of us will go down there, see what’s going on by day and chill out with a few beers in the evening’. I wasn’t entirely wrong. What I didn’t expect was that the whole office was going and that half of the office was also bringing their friends and family (including the kids). It was a bit more like a big family holiday than a study tour.

About 30 of us crammed into a little mini bus for the 7 hour drive to Sihanoukville (another 20 or so were crammed into the bosses four wheel drive). Thankfully the guys at work realised I was a little bigger and needed ‘two’ seats in the bus. ‘Two’ seats by Khmer standards is actually what I would consider to be ‘one’ seat. And a small seat at that – on the front seat next to the driver. I had the gear stick under one leg and the other pinned against the tape player (every time we hit a bump, my knee changed the direction of the tape). But still, it was better than being stuck in the back five to a bench seat.

We got to Sihanoukville, after about 200 snack and pee breaks. Anytime anyone was hungry, we all stopped, which meant it was really slow going. But we got there.

I think it seemed particularly long to me, because I had spent 7 hours getting back from Poipet the day before. I had gone to Poipet to visit Lainie for the long weekend. Lainie gets a bit more adventurous with me around and we took a long moto ride out amongst the surrounding villages which was quite nice, but almost ended in tragedy when we had to negotiate a small river to get back on the main road.

In Sihanoukville, most of us (there were too many of us to stay in one place) stayed in a little hotel opposite the beach. I said I didn’t mind sharing and ended up with four other guys in a twin bed room. I was actually sharing a bed. But it was with one of the other guys from the office (the beds were doubles) and everyone left their clothes on so it wasn’t too bad. I contemplated freaking them out and going nude, but decided against it.

Now, there are times where I really like aspects of Khmer culture and other times when it is completely frustrating. I like that they want to be inclusive and get everyone to go to do things together, but it is also annoying. Particularly when there is 50 of you and you spend hours waiting in the car park for one person to have a shower or something. I have been cramped in a van for hours. I can see the beach. I have my swimmers on. It’s hot. I am sweating. I want to go swimming. So why am I waiting in the car park!!! And so the pace for the week was set. There was a lot of waiting about, particularly in car parks, but I compensated by being slower at getting dressed.

The study tour itself was interesting though. We visited an organisation that was working on projects dealing mostly with sex tourism and HIV/AIDs projects. We went out to some of the villages (shanty towns in the shadows of massive hotels) where HIV was rife and visited a support group for ‘Men who have sex with other men’ (MSM).

The MSM group was basically a group of cross dressers and gay men - they meet once a month in a little hairdressing salon to swap stories and beauty ideas. Most of the MSM work in with sex tourists. I wasn’t really sure what to expect from my colleagues or the gay men themselves. But in a strange way, it seems to be quite acceptable to be gay in Cambodia. They have their own TV show. Not bad considering their low numbers. The guys from the office didn’t really seem to have much of a problem with it and asked lots of questions (in typical Khmer style – they are very curious people and not afraid to ask). We watched a ‘lady boy’ competition on video. It was really sad. I had to try and not to laugh. I could make a better woman than some of them and I certainly could dance better than the majority of them. Basically the ‘show’ consisted of them getting dressed and made up like a traditional Khmer princesses and walked slowly back and forth across a stage. I wanted to get copy and send it to my gay friends back home. They need some help - A bit of queer eye for the queer guys intervention is definitely in order. But you know, at least they are trying.

So after a day and a half of ‘study tour’ we had another day and a half ‘free time’ (while my boss went to meetings). We spent one afternoon driving around and seeing the sights of Sihanoukville. There is a beautiful old art deco hotel (the king’s former summer residence – a legacy of French colonialism) that is perched atop a cliff with lovely private beaches. There are some other really nice resorts too. After that some of the guys took one of the cars and headed to Kampot, but I have been to Kampot, so I decided to stay on in Sihanoukville and enjoy the beach.

After four days of constant contact with the guys from work (eating, drinking, swimming, playing soccer, study touring and sleeping), I decided it was in my interests of my mental health to do a runner and go for a walk on my own. So I snuck off to the more ‘western’ part of the beach to eat a hamburger. Alas, it was also then that I started feeling ill. It was possibly karma, but I doubt it. And so started my bout with dengue.

Tonight it is much cooler. It is raining and I can here the rain tapping against the metal awnings. I can be so peaceful here. I am going to sleep well tonight. Although, I am not looking forward to splashing myself with cold water tomorrow morning. I really must fix the hot water system.

I hope all is well at home.

Take Care,
Erin