Fourth of July message

Dear Family, Friends and other remarkable folks inhabiting Mother Earth,

As I mentioned in a communiqué to my super cousin, Rose Nash, life is settling down into a more basic routine that is still kept exciting by the increase of certain behaviors, usually later at night.  These activities are holdups, which seem to be focused on the six to eight square blocks where I reside and call home.  It is in the heart of NGO land and it has to be admitted in the echoes of the late, great Willie Sutton when asked why he robbed banks, –  it is where the money is.  Theft and holdups are nothing really new in Phnom Penh but the use of a gun is rather unique.  Most of the time robberies are basically committed by the young kids who come flying by on their gaudy colored motos, and grab handbags and tear away laughing.  I just don’t understand this need to have a brightly colored motorcycle with two and sometimes three guys sitting on it.  I always thought the idea of a good stickup artist was invisibility and stealth.  Maybe they are cops and are just tired of the drab government uniform they have to wear when they commit their felonious assaults on the citizenry, locals and foreigners.

So, anyway, the news of importance about this new rash of robberies is that sometimes the robbers are waving guns at the victims.  This is very unusual but in Phnom Penh there are many explanations.  The big one, but not the best one to me, is that with the elections ready for late July, the young’ens are just getting their piece of the pie early.  Many people seem to believe that instead of being poor kids or poor provincial folks who have come to the big city in search of quick wealth, it is actually the sons of the big gun politicians who feel or are supported in the view that they are above the law. There might something to this thought because they do own the big streets after 10 or 11 at night as they race around town on their big motorcycles or high priced cars.

Another view, which I seem to lean toward is that with the inflationary spiral is going up like a thermometer on a hot day, ends just are not meeting like they used to.  The gun issue is often shrugged off by the older citizens as nothing new.  Back in the late 80’s and 90’s everybody owned guns, some owned lots of guns, and some owned truly formidable firepower like machine guns or AK 47s.   With peace or civilization or big time donor groups coming into the scene the guns were evidently buried or exchanged for new and enhanced toys.  Now they are coming out again.

I find that I tend to tuck my tail down a little earlier than I used to and am watching more bootlegged DVDs and listening to more pirated CDs than before.  Maybe it just depends on your choice or illegality as what to what turns you on.

Work is still fun and currently we are waiting for some of this huge largess that the World bank tells us is going into the pipeline any day.  I do hear that some of it – maybe a massive amount of it, is already in the pipeline but is going to contractors to build new schools.  Some more is going to the Teacher Training Department, which is our big rival for handouts and largess. I am scheduled to do a training session for them in the next month or so, because my Filipina friend has been tasked with the job of developing a training module on special education.  They really don’t have one now but they are expected to come up with one.  I don’t feel any conflict with this request I am going to bring along my friends from the Special Education Office to support my song and dance show.  I think it will work.  In some future newsletter I will elaborate on the tensions of having one high powered ministry official’s wife working for one department while our lowly department happened to marry for love, or poverty or whatever.

On the issue of work topics, we are engaged in a consortium run by World Bank in which we plan to do some nation wide mapping for children with disabilities.  The goal will be to identify essentially how many children in the nation have disabilities. The unique feature of this survey will be to determine how many children exist both in and out of school.  This latter factor is key to future programming since by 2015 under the Education for All agreement many nations signed, we are supposed to be serving all children wit a basic education of nine years.  The initial comment, which could easily be the motto for everything World Bank does, was “No data, no problem.”  While most of the volunteers all know intuitively about the world-class issues facing education in Cambodia and we can all cite many personal observations of examples that defy reasonable interpretation of a sincere system, nobody can really produce a set of data that everybody agrees on.

World Bank has been complaining about this for quite a while and for a finance governing institution this must have driven them crazy.  Anyway now we will possibly move on this.

The structural model is pretty good but as often the case, there is many a slip between the cup and the lip.  A pilot project will be done in Phnom Penh in which 1000 children will be surveyed. These caregivers of these children will be asked several questions on a variety of issues such as income, and other demographic topics.  Then there will be a ten (or maybe an 11 question including one on behavior) form in which if the caregiver answers any question “Yes” the child will move on to Phase two which includes a complete medical and psychological.  In this phase it will be determined whether the child has a true disability or not.  It is expected that of the original 1000 children surveyed, about 250 will be eligible for Phase two.

Now, in order to determine statistics that includes “out-of-school” children another 4000 children’s caregivers will be surveyed.  In addition to the expected 20 to 25% of eligibles for phrase two, every tenth child will be automatically selected for phase two.

Are you still with me?  These procedures are all statistically sound and will produce, if everything goes right, a big “if” but presumably doable, a set of baseline data.  A large team of community based workers will be needed and a site coordinator and most important, teams of doctors and psychologists.  Now remember this is country that 1. Killed all of its medical personnel if it found any, and 2.  A doctor can buy his or her way through school without ever studying.  So, where do this professional group come from?

The model has been used in Bangladesh and in Ethiopia.  Ethiopia posed many problems similar to Cambodia and help was culled for a source that America doesn’t recognize.  Cuba!  It seems that in Cuba there are so many fairly well trained doctors that they are driving cabs, working as waiters in hotels etc.  The health care system is extraordinary if you can accept Michael Moore’s documentary on health care.  Che Guevara is rumored to have “loaned” thousand of doctors to South American Countries who were in desperate need.  Regardless, that is one source.

As training occurs then these teams can move on to the remainder of the 24 provinces in Cambodia.  I like the notion but already folks are shuddering when then think of the logistics involved.  It will take from two to three months for a province to be surveyed and it is expected that by December 2009 it will be complete.  Granted there will be quite a bit of simultaneous surveying going on but again, it is doable and the results will be the baseline that future efforts can be built on.

Tomorrow finishes up this workshop I have been in and Monday it will back to work in SEO.  I think I will begin writing some plans for implementation for the policy we recently had sent to the ministry and had signed.  That will keep me busy for a while.

In the meanwhile, take a look around you and think about the social programs you have at your beck and call.  The school systems, the clinics, the government supported counseling and drug rehabilitation programs.  Plus the hundreds and possibly thousands of other programs that we rarely ever hear about.  All of this without donor groups unless you call the American taxpayer a donor group.  I do and I think most of us do.  Even in comparison with other developed nations we have a very good system. It can and should be better but it is not bad while we support a defense system that is most expensive in history.  No more lectures for now.

Love you all and hope that all is well with you and yours.  Your clinical observer, Dick

The King’s Birthday and Ploughing Day

Dear Friends, Family and other notable companions on this journey through Life.

Whew! I finally became aware of my serious lack of communication and in an effort to regain some of the trust and confidence you have in me to regale you with both fact and fiction, I will try to regain my former writing output. While my writing has been described as a physical ailment akin to Montezuma’s revenge or some other form of uncontrollable output, it does allow me to share my views and gain some feedback from all or any of you. I think my lapse is probably due to a set of conditions known more formally as “routine daily occurrences” or simply not necessarily of a nature to be described as “interesting”. I shouldn’t make those decisions myself since it is my task to report and yours to criticize. I leave it to your judgments as to whether there is any merit in what I report.

I am gaining a huge collection of DVDs and music. I have a favorite little shop where I get my stuff. Although it is more expensive I have more confidence in them and if I ever have any trouble I can always take it back. The cost as I say is more, $1.50 a DVD or CD as opposed to $1 and over time it all adds up. I am rewatching some of my favorite movies I saw before I left for Cambodia like “You Kill me” with Ben Kingsley and some older ones like “Raging Bull”. The music is thoroughly eclectic and covers all of the genres because I have no specific taste (or competence). I just keep adding to my collection.

Work is fine. We are in the month devoted to holidays. The King’s birthday is this week and that alone accounts for three days off. I am not sure if it is the father king or the prince guy. I think it is the father. The Queen gets one day off. At the end of this week is “Ploughing Day” which as you can guess is an agrarian festival observation and gives us time to reflect on the nature of crops. Khmer New Year was in April and that was another three days off whereas International New Year is only one day off. Chinese New Year’s in February was another three days off. In the event you are thinking, “Does this guy ever work?”, I do, but too not often in these months. I am allowed 20 days annual leave a year plus the national holidays, which is about another 20 days. I am saving most of them for when the kids come over but occasionally I get anxious about a whole four or five day work week and so I might take a few days to seek refreshment and relaxation.

Religious observations. I have noticed a decidedly formal procedure to the Khmer or Buddhist religious observances both here in Phnom Penh and in the provinces. Almost every home and every business has a small or large shrine or altar with joss sticks or fragrance sticks for burning in front of them. Often these are supplemented by some foodstuffs or tea. The construction of these altars or shrines varies greatly. Some are very primitive and consist basically of a small shelter enclosing a vigil light and some incense sticks. Then they can range to a large wall hanging made of pictures and offerings. They can be plain or festooned with lights. One I saw literally looked like a Las Vegas one-arm bandit with flashing lights and pictures. Stalls or stands specialize in the construction of these religious artifacts and on some roads there are whole areas given over to these altars.

The Chicago White Sox are in First Place according to the Internet and the temperature in Phnom Penh is 93°` but it feels like 108° or so says the weather chart on my.Yahoo.com. I am pleased about the White Sox and agree completely with the weather summary. It is bloody hot or “k’dao nah” in Khmer. The rainy season has almost officially started (end of May) but almost daily around 3:00 or 4:00 PM we get a downpour. The streets fill up and I take off my shoes and put them in my basket. Then I pedal joyously through the rain with my raincoat flapping madly in the wind, spraying water in the direction of the motos who are spraying water at me, and arrive home in a very excited condition knowing I have reached the level of the other Khmei who seem to enjoy whatever Mother Nature sends to them.

I am now living in a new place, which is smaller than my old place but far more elegant. I have a 24-hour security guard, an exercise room that I do not use very much, a laundry room with three machines and a dryer that my cleaning lady uses quite efficiently. This regimen of living in a third world country sacrificing for the greater good and all of that “Yatta Yatta Yatta” is getting me down. Seriously though, while I certainly have many advantages materially and it seems that there are many holidays in the monthly calendar, I am contributing something although I still am not quite sure exactly how much or what good it is. I will try to reflect further on this and give you a performance rating in the future. In the meanwhile I have to go and plan my upcoming holiday to honor the King.

Love and kisses to all of you. I remain your distant representative for world peace and love, Richard.

Crashing weddings and cycles

Dear Friends, Family and other notable companions on this journey through Life.

The routine of life is settling in to a somewhat boring and predictable pattern except for the odd incident or two. As I shared in my last epistle, I have switched back to a bicycle instead of the moto. I am much happier except that I still miss the ease of firing up the old blue beast and pretty much going where I want to go. I can do that as well on my kong (bicycle) but it is more work and now that the hot season is starting, a less desirable task. However, it is still more secure and even relaxing as I gently and calmly pedal down the avenue with only an occasional surprise from someone who suddenly appears next to me. As long as I avoid any sudden moves to the left or right I can function rather well.

I mentioned the hot season but I am not really sure it has started. The more seasoned veterans here tell me that it is getting hotter but that it is not really insufferable yet. I am expecting something from out of hell then, because on certain days the sun really kicks into overdrive and the sweat (nature’s air conditioning) comes pouring out. I keep saying that I don’t mind the heat, but usually that is when I am in some air con bar with a cool gin and tonic in front of me. I have to remember to drink lots of water without the added benefit of booze, which dehydrates the body at an accelerated rate. Again the more seasoned veterans here tell me that a proper ratio of drinking is one glass of water for every glass of beer or drink. Whew! That is one hell of a lot of liquid.

I am thinking of moving my home. I still like the place but there are complications that I don’t want to put up with any longer. I think I am a patient man but when I left for language training in January, a scheduled repair of the water system in my building was to start. When I returned at the beginning of February it was in theory finished. I did not ever have a real problem with the water except that the faucet leaked rather continuously, but I could live with that since it only flowed into the bathtub. Since I only pay a flat rate of $5 a month for water it was not my problem, right? After the repairs my faucet is working fine. But, now there are leaks coming from under the wall near my desk and it generally soaks two or three big towels two or three times a day. I have told them about the problem and I keep hearing that it is hard to find someone and that it will be taken care of.

Another problem of course, was the stolen moto. That happened the night before I left for language training in January. Then it was rumored that the moto had been found. I say rumor since I have never seen the moto but only heard that it has been found. My colleagues in the office have told me that I should not really expect nor want to get it back since it is no doubt only a “skin” now after the police have stripped it or replaced the new parts with old ones, like the engine. Again, no problem, since I was holding on to my three months rent payment until the repairs were finished, I figured it might just serve as a compensation for the lost moto. So far no one has said anything but the repairs still aren’t done and I still have the rent money. If it turns out that it is compensation, then I have done all right since my moto did not cost as much as the three months rent.

The next, or more significantly, the last problem to rear its ugly head was the appearance of a rat in my bedroom. He certainly has exhibited more fear of me than I of him, but I can only guess at this since he can run and disappear much faster than I can shout or move. After a few appearances I became somewhat accustomed to his presence and since he tried to avoid me I didn’t see much of him. However, the other night, I caught sight of another little rodent who no doubt is related to the other fellow. Now I am an easygoing guy and one rat is ok, but with the offspring or relatives moving in, I am annoyed. So, another reason to start looking for another place.

The option of moving entails some added costs. The rent will be more and the size of the place will be smaller. But overall, the general climate will be much better, the ambience superior, and the attractiveness grater. I am sure there is some redundancy in there somewhere, but I hope you are getting my meaning.

I am taking greater note of the limitations of my age and response issues. After all, getting older was just slowing down, wasn’t it? I guess not. I have taken two or three falls on my bike and really have not thought much about them until today when I was trying to talk on my hand held phone and drive or rather stop my bike at the same time. I didn’t, which resulted in my crashing again. I am starting to wonder about hips and the other ailments of the elderly and while this may sound like a cry of “Alas, poor me”, it really isn’t. I am just beginning to understand that the system is not just slowing down, it is actually taking on new dimensions and given the proper respect and understanding should not really stand in the way of getting on with life. If the life is not going to be a cabaret, old chum, then it needs to be at least a little ceile, a party to you non-Irish types.

I hope you are holding in there with me on this theme because there is a connection. After the fall, an hour or two later, I felt for my wallet and it wasn’t there. Panic-stricken I figured it had fallen out when I dumped and the kindly folks, who rushed to my aid, had scooped it up. I went back and of course, they hadn’t seen it. Still in the midst of my panic attack but observing all the cultural niceties of never losing your cool publicly, I knew I had to cancel my ATM card and let the bank know I lost my card. I couldn’t say for sure it stolen yet. I went back to work on the small chance that it might be on my desk. No such luck. My partner in the office asked how I was and I told him “not so good, I lost my wallet.” I really didn’t want to get into a conversation so I told him that I might just go back home and check on it there. Of course it was there. I must have been looking through it the night before and just forgot to put it in my pants. So, happy as a pig in manure, I went back to the bank and cancelled the cancellation, and had a great lunch. For those of you who are reading these chronicles and sensing a steady decline into dementia or other advanced stages of the aging process, please remember that I said that I would share all of the warts as well as the good stuff. This happens to be one of the warts. If it begins to happen with any more regularity I will seriously consider hiring a male nurse to monitor my behavior and of course, returning home.

Added footnote: Yesterday I went to another wedding, perhaps my fourth or fifth. I am developing attitudes about these wedding receptions; I rarely go to the ceremonies since they are interminably long, rather dry affairs. The receptions are also lengthy, two or three hours, and loud if you have the misfortune to be placed near the bandstand where the band and the singer(s) try to outdo each other. The menu is a set one; appetizers of various sorts, followed by three kinds of meat (pork, beef and chicken) grilled and in small chunks, a bowl or cooking vegetables a la fondue style, then a long, usually very tasty fish, complete with head and tail and bones, followed at the end with fried rice in a plentiful fashion for anyone who did not get enough to eat. All during the meal there are cans of soft drinks, tonic water and mineral water, and beer. As you go through the supply on the table more is brought readily. Aso included on every table, at every wedding I have been to, is a bottle of Johnny Walker Red whiskey. The more adventuresome hard guys go for this and usually there is a contest with one or more of the guys going, “M’Roy p’roy – 100%). Then everyone knocks his or her entire drink back. Women included. Sorry for the sexist remark, ladies, but if you could see these elegant, well-coiffed, demure, women, pounding down a tall glass of Johnny Walker, then you might exclaim as well, “the Ladies as well?”

So, the point of this story is not so much the cultural experience although I know you were gasping to hear all about it, (it was curiosity, wasn’t it?). The real story was my friend and I had gotten a tuk tuk and went to the reception at 5:30 when it was scheduled to start. We figured to be fashionably on time or late as you might perceive, but since the food does not start coming until you reach the magic number of ten or a full table, what difference could it make. We arrived and were immediately greeted by a gauntlet of very beautifully dressed and professionally made-up ladies who definitely knew us even if we didn’t know them. They gave us each a small gift, typical for a wedding reception. It might be a pack of gum or in this case a synthetic multi purpose scarf called a Krama. Upstairs we were escorted to a table, which soon filled up with both Khmer and Barang (white foreigners). The dinner was fun, good conversation and hearty appetites. I stayed with beer and my companions did not attack the bottle of JWR (Johnny Walker Red) with any serious enthusiasm. I think someone intended to take the remains home. At the end of the meal my friend and I were both wondering why we had not seen any more of the other volunteers or even the bride and groom. The video guy had already been around and taken pictures of our table. So, I suggested that we take a continental walk around the room to see and be seen by all. After all, we were the trophy guests, foreigners from banks or NGOs. We made our way to the bandstand and the wedding party was having a little walk around and the guests were throwing ribbons and flowers on them. Neither my friend or I could see Heng who had invited us to the wedding and it suddenly dawned on me that we were at the wrong freaking wedding. We immediately cleared out and since we hadn’t turned our envelopes in, we could still go to the other reception, have some more to drink and share our confusing story of the wrong wedding reception. After all, this is Cambodia.

That said, I love you all, and as the temperature climbs, remember me as having said I like the heat. Words to live or suffer by. I remain, Paco the dripper and wedding crasher.

Case of the Missing Moto (and then some)

Dear Friends, Family and other notable companions on this journey through Life.

This is a two-part note because I began it while still in Kg Cham. I decided to leave the original part in rather than delete it because subsequent events have a bearing on this time.

Part one (still in Kg Cham)
It has been a while and I still have not made up my mind about whether to replace my moto or get a bike. I am probably going to buy a moto, but I am still giving myself a day or two more to be sensible rather than impulsive. A new Honda Spider costs $780 and a new Honda Dream, the presumably best of the motos, costs about $1660. The Spider is 110cc and the Dream is 125cc. Living in the city the Spider is very practical, that is if you have dismissed the bicycle as the main mode of transportation. Several people back before I bought my moto, told me the Spider was best because “robbers’ only want Dreams, not Spiders. I have proven them wrong which was not my goal.

Language class is coming to a close. I am still terrible but I can at least make myself sound like a severely retarded Barang (white guy) who is trying to find his way to the toilet or restaurant or museum. A careful Khmei would probably give an answer to all three even if the Barang only said one sentence. And then the Khmei might be surprised to find that the fellow was actually trying to say this is a nice day or have you lived in Phnom Penh long? I have been exposed to tons of vocabulary, nouns and verbs, I have been instructed in how to convert verbs into nouns, adjectives into adverbs, more nouns into verbs but with different prefixes, and several, (hundreds, it seems) expressions that cover a multitude of situations (satanapheap). However, remembering the severely retarded Barang (white guy), a comment may not mean the intended thought and international confusion is enhanced.

Part 2 (Back in Phnom Penh)
I returned to Phnom Penh having decided to go ahead and buy another moto. Since I had gone through the trials of learning how to ride the thing and having developed some minimal skills, I believed that lightning would probably not strike twice. Time would be the final arbiter of that theory. So —

I bought the moto – a very nice blue one. I added several safety features like an alarm and a lock attached to the front fork of the machine. This is in addition to the normal locking mechanism when you turn off the bike. I finished it all off with an updated curse from Jesus, Buddha, and Mohammed all cursing the family of any thief to the fifth generation who dares to steal this bike. It is still in English so its effectiveness is somewhat limited. I need a good Khmer translator.

Saturday as I was leaving my house with another VSO volunteer (so I have a witness) the little girl who speaks English came up to me and asked me for my paper work on the moto again. I told her I didn’t have it and that VSO had it in the office. I asked her why she needed it so badly since the likelihood of ever seeing the moto again was slim and none. She then told me that the police had found my moto and the other cycles that had been stolen. To describe my reaction as speechless is to severely understate the case.

In Cambodia as in many developing nations, the police are often the last ones you want to have helping you in a criminal activity. The usual suspicion is that they are either the thieves, are helping the thieves, or couldn’t care less about a foreigner having a problem with the criminal elements. So, to find out that the police had found the motos was an amazing revelation. The social contacts of the owner of the house suddenly have been sharply elevated in my estimation. If he could get the police to work on this case (see above reasons for why they probably wouldn’t) then he definitely has some juice.

Now I have to sort my logistical problems. I still haven’t seen the moto but I believe that this is not some cruel joke. It suggests that I am now the owner of two (2) motos. One problem is that since I had no trust or faith at all in its recovery, I had disposed of the two sets of keys for the original. Also I now have to find a buyer for one of them, probably the original since I don’t want any reminders of the crazy ways of the Cambodia life.

Just got back from lunch. During lunch I received two offers for my moto. We have not discussed price yet but both of the prospective buyers do not believe that the keys will be any problem. I am not sure they even think that papers will be a problem.

I will not bore all of you with an ongoing saga of the missing Spider (the type of 110 cc moto I have) but as the issue comes to a close, I will post everyone. I am hoping that there is not a body or two of ‘robbers” lying in a ditch somewhere. Crime seems to be a fairly frequent hobby particularly here in Phnom Penh but part of being a successful robber is knowing whom not to rob.

That is it for now. I plan on going home and going to bed early. I ache and think I have a cold or flu or something. My office mates are heading for Bangkok and are very upset I am not traveling with them. I am following Obama and Hillary at some distance, and while I am cheering for Obama, I have a nagging feeling I have heard this stuff before. Ah well, setting precedents are good too.

Love to all and my deep appreciation for the many thoughts and notes you have sent. Your wandering pilgrim, Evel Paco Dervin

The Tonle Sap, the Tonle Bassac, and the Tonle Mekong

Dear Friends, Family and other notable companions on this journey through Life.

Things seem to have settled down quite a bit here in Fun City otherwise known as Phnom Penh. I have written my reports to all of the relevant agencies; VSO (with adequate expense accounting for myself and the other fellow from the SEO), the higher ups in the chain (deputy directors and the like), a report to all of the provincial governors and their subordinates, and now I am waiting for the translations into Khmer.

I have joined a health club, actually two of them. I joined the first, which was connected to the Hotel Cambodiana, which is one of the most posh hotels in Phnom Penh, but I was not entirely happy with the facilities. The parking was far from the hotel entrance, the walk through the lobby was somewhat intimidating, and the shower and locker room facilities left a little bit to be desired. I cancelled my membership and asked that my fee be credited back to the visa card. This will be an interesting test.

The second club I joined is one hotel to the south of the Hotel Cambodiana, the Emerald Gardens. It does not have the quality of equipment, and is more expensive by a few dollars, but I can park my bike (“Kong” in Khmer) closer. It is smaller but more intimate. The pool is right outside of the locker room, which is a nice advantage.

Both hotels have restaurants and bars, but the Hotel Cambodiana is more expensive (relatively speaking). The Emerald Gardens has a gambling room, which has two games, blackjack and roulette, so I am told. I am the world’s worst gambler since I hate to lose and I always lose.

Next week is the famous “Water Festival” in Cambodia. This has ancient roots and is grounded in religious symbolism. In Phnom Penh we have three major rivers that converge; The Tonle Sap, the Tonle Bassac, and the very mighty Tonle Mekong which flows from Lao down through Cambodia and into the Mekong Delta of Vietnam fame. It is truly huge and magnificent and dwarfs the Old Man River, the Mississippi. The key element during this three-day holiday is the great Dragon Boat races, which are held on the Mekong just opposite the riverfront of Phnom Penh. This is the scenic area of the city where the tourists and wealthier ex-pats land hang out. VSO usually enters a Dragon Boat except for last year. That may have been a result of their finishing fifth in a two-boat race. Fifth!? Yes, fifth, evidently boats from two other heats of boat races lapped them. This year we want to at least finish second or no worse than third. There are fifty of us who will be rowing our hearts out, not for the glory of VSO, but to beat the crap out of the Khmei who seem to have grown up with the event and take great joy in pounding the Barang (foreigners) into the mud which borders the river. We will be distinguished by our yellow and orange life jackets, which is another source of great humor to the Khmei who seem to think if you fall in the water, you deserve to drown.

I have purchased some general art works for my apartment. They were a “steal” in the markets of Ho Chi Minh City and after a week I have yet to hang one of them. This will be the major task of the coming weekend. I have the screws and anchors for the concrete walls and just need the correct discerning eye for the proper effect. This may turn into a major project. I should invite some of my colleagues over for gin and tonics and support.

Well, that is it for another short spell from your wandering pilgrim who is settling in and enjoying life more. The time is flying by. Take care and be humble. God knows we all have many opportunities to be so.

Richard

Going with the flow

I have just finished a full week at the annual conference of VSO volunteers in Cambodia. It was a fun week but it didn’t resolve many of the questions I had going in such as what should I be doing? Yatta, yatta yatta. It did give some insights as to how I should be going about my job, which is to say, go slowly, work, but don’t get frustrated when your ideas and/or efforts are either not listened to or ignored entirely.

I have developed a really enjoyable relationship with my bicycle. It is a functional one-speed with handle bar brakes. It has a friction light for driving at night, although its main purpose is to let others see me rather than illuminate anything for me. The front tire tends to lose air over time and every week I have to reinflate it. But I love riding the streets, even the really busy streets like Sihanouk, and Mao Tse Tung and Monivong. The Russian Confederation Boulevard is still waiting for my entry but I look forward to the challenge.

Everyday, at least three or four times and sometimes every hour I am reminded of the Cambodian proverb about life being a river. Bike riding is so much like that. When I first arrived I thought that I would never ride a bike because I would not be able to handle the traffic. It is horrendous. But like a river it flows. It flows around, next to, over and under everything. There are accidents of course, but not as many as you would expect with the literal lack of systems in place. There some intersections were there are traffic lights and they even have numbers counting down. But you get the feeling of Indianapolis and the start of the “five hundred”. If there is not a lot of traffic, then the lights are totally ignored. Traffic flows in all directions literally. If I come to an intersection and I want to turn right, no problem. I don’t even have to look, though I do, I just turn right and traffic flows around me. If I want to turn right, that is another story. I turn into the lane of traffic coming at me. As long as I stay close to the curb, traffic will continue to flow usually to my right but sometimes around me. When a gap or break in the traffic occurs I then move over into the other lanes ostensibly going in the same direction I am. When I am coming down a street, I don’t wait for the intersection before making my move to turn across traffic; I do it as soon as there is a gap and then go against the traffic until I reach the corner and then turn. It takes some getting used to but once you discover the pattern it works.

So, using the river as my metaphor, traffic, work, cooperation with colleagues and life in general takes on a different meaning. I try to flow, and when an obstacle comes up, I accept and flow around it. If it is a big obstacle, then I wait until it moves or it gets dislodged or I take it in my flow. It is working. I don’t have it down to a philosophy yet, but I see where it is going and I like it. I would seriously recommend it to anyone. It is not Buddhist but it seems to have some of the hallmarks of that philosophy without the baggage. Plus no reincarnation to worry about.

For any of you considering a trip to the exotic southeast Asia, my flat has a spare bedroom always open. Great views and wonderful neighborhood.

So, great and noble creatures that you are, remember the river. Think occasionally of me following the current and just checking out the landscape as I float by. I think of all of you often and it is as though I can see you when I drift by. Take care, until my next communiqué, this is your wandering pilgrim heading downriver. No storms in sight.

Appearances are everything

Today is a mélange of topics as usual, the first being that sometimes “Appearance is everything”. I broke through my temerity or simple cowardice (temerity sounds better even if it does reflect the craven sort I have allowed myself to become) and accepted the bicycle that the VSO offers everyone in Phnom Penh. Everyone, even the folks from out of town who have motorcycles back home. I did not take the helmet although it was offered for the simple fact that I want to be able to see as much as I can while I go forth into harm’s way. It turned out ok, inasmuch as I began to recall some sage advice I had received from a fellow in the Philippines who had biked all of the time in Saigon. He said, “All you have to do is avoid the guy in front. ” The guy behind will take care of himself and you. It seems to work somewhat but sometimes I forget to watch out for the guy in front while I am watching out for the car or truck on my left or right. The only guy I am not too concerned about is the guy behind me — I am hoping he is taking care of himself and possibly me.So, after accepting the bike, and getting my housing allowance for equipping my brand new flat, I decided to have lunch in a posh spot, just down the street from my office called the Lotus Restaurant. A gorgeous place, the décor literally French Colonial, and the waitstaff suitably attired in better frocks than at least this patron.

Note: For you French or at least, other Romance language linguists, you will find more and more of the French vocabulary creeping into my chats. I can’t help it, it is here to stay. Many people decry the continuing abandonment of French while others sing praises to its demise. I am neutral except for the fact that it was always a beautiful sounding language and seemed to be truly the language of love. I took Spanish in school and thought it was also a beautiful sounding language, but for the classicists out there, French was still the language of Charles Boyer, and many other incredibly debonair (there, I did it again) screen lovers.

Back to lunch. After being seated and parking my helmet (motorcycle, with “Paco” and a heart with “mom” inscribed on it) and my briefcase, I studied the menu. Since I am only in the middle of my five-day medication, water was the drink of choice but I did spurge and order a coffee with milk as well. Not all coffee with milk is coffee with – at least condensed, milk. No problem, I dutifully drank it down and had what looked like a gallon of water to wash the lunch down. I then ordered the Chicken with lemon grass and an order of rice. Wonderful sounding stuff. It came and I have to say it was one of the worse meals I ever had. I don’t know enough about Asian cuisine, but I am sure that they do not waste anything. I chewed on several bits of gristle, separated some meat from looked like fat, and conscientiously ate the rest. But I have to say; it was most beautiful looking meal I think I ever had. There was a tomato that had been carved in a curl sitting on a nest of what looked like alfalfa sprouts. Sometimes things look too good to eat. So, like I said, “Sometimes, Appearances are everything”.

I have covered some aspects of the traffic on my bike and briefly touched on the monetary sustenance that VSO allows those of us who have sacrificed out lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor and for the benefit of mankind. Well, at least our honor.

City scenes

I have promised no more downers in my reports so while various interpretations may relegate some of my news to such, I assure you it is not intentional. Life is very good and I am very positive about what I see. I realize I am in Asia and as such must try to interpret events and behaviors in a context that is not judgmental not critical nor impatient. I confess that this is a foreign process to me and to some of you out there (you know who you are) a practice of such monumental proportion akin to Sisyphus rolling the rock up the hill.Today I visited a school that only works with the handicapped. The Marist brothers run it. I had always considered them an Irish Christian sort probably because so many of the South Side Irish either went to Marist High School or Brother Rice who definitely was an Irish Saint. My apologies to all of the Barrett youngsters who matriculated in fine form from MHS and I was corrected. Brother Terry is the head of the school and he has done a fine job. Under his tutelage land was purchased, grants obtained, recognition of the school obtained (with no money allowed by the government for incidentals) and a kind of training of teachers conducted. They are doing great work and one of his protégés has gone on (down the road, literally) to begin and develop a vocational school to accept and further train the graduates of Bro. Terry’s institution.

One of this protégé’s projects is named Villa Maria because a Catholic benefactor from Italy had given them a grant. The degree of physical handicaps is awesome and range from lost limbs from land mine explosions to leprosy to tuberculosis of the bone to an infinite assortment of other ailments. The wheelchairs and other prosthetic devices range from the homemade (a plastic chair bolted to a frame on wheels) to some rather sophisticated stuff. They certainly could use a guy like Jack Dauber over here, (can you share this with him, Tony?).

Anyway progress is being made in this land for the handicapped. It was not too many years ago that handicapped teachers were not allowed to be hired. No one could believe that they could teach and even if they could why should anyone want to look at them. This practice is supposed to have been overturned by a government “black paper” and sent to the provinces, but some provincial offices of education have claimed to have never received it or – having received it continue to do what has been traditional. In some areas this practice is being overturned and in a country where they cannot get teachers, handicapped teachers are being utilized. Like I say, progress.

Traffic! I thought I had seen everything in the Philippines but Phnom Penh beats everything I have ever witnessed. I remember describing traffic in Manila as comic or cartoonish. Traffic that had little or no regard for others and seemingly hell-bent on achieving a goal or place regardless of any consequences. I also found a grudging admiration for a system that seemed to work despite all of the evidence to the contrary. At that time I was not completely aware of the serious and deadly accidents that occurred so often particularly in Manila. That brings me to Cambodia. This country is riddled with mines and they cause incredible harm and damage. America dropped more bomb tonnage on this country than they did in all of WWII.

But, the leading cause of death not counting malnutrition or other virulent diseases like Dengue fever is traffic. It is literally mind-boggling what the traffic is like. They go in all directions, on both sides of the street, at cross-purposes to any rational sense of order and discipline. They never get mad (the Cambodians) and the Europeans get crazed and no one pays them any mind. It is not as though they are unaware; true, no eye contact gets made, but they weave in and out and swerve and dance around like a choreographed ballet.

And, there are accidents. Lots of accidents. In one day’s time I saw a motorcycle crushed under the front of a super sized SUV. I saw a guy on a bicycle bumped by a motorcycle and he just simply jumped off and then picked up his bike, looked it over and carried on. I was riding on the back of motorcycle and my driver bumped another vespa-like bike and I jumped off and no harm. All of this within hours. I had originally considered taking one of the bikes that VSO offers free to everyone, and biking around the town, but not now. I am literally totally intimidated by the traffic. The streets are beautiful and wide and built like Paris with big roundabouts. I won’t even begin to try to describe the chaos that is routine at one of these roundabouts. I am impressed that everyday the population is not reduced significantly.

The other side of the pendulum is the food. It is magnificent. Every culture is represented. Khmer food itself is very good with mild spices and lots of vegetables. Often Chinese influences seem to be blended in. One restaurant is predominantly Pakistani and another is English/Irish. Every beer is represented including Guinness, but I haven’t found Smithwick’s yet. I look forward every day to breakfast, which is restricted at the moment to one of two places only because I haven’t explored more. One, “THE SHOP” has great omelets or poached eggs with the usual sides. The toast that comes with these main features is wonderful. There are also many other offerings but I generally am unimaginative and stick with my two poached eggs and toast. And of course, the coffee. I think Cambodia must do very well in coffee making. Or maybe it is Laos. But wherever the coffee comes from, it is glorious. Strong and black as night, and with condensed milk; a desert that would delight the Gods.

The other breakfast nook I like (love?) is the Freebird. This is a bar/restaurant that never seems to close. Its menu is similar and the coffee comes in larger cups and is also very good. What makes it unique is that it is wireless and I can bring my own computer and catch up on my overdue emails and correspondence. I can also find out that the White Sox continue to rank only above the lowly Kansas City Chiefs. I don’t have to use my flash card and depend on the Internet shops. I don’t save much money but any is a plus and I love the environment.

Additional comments:
Because of my inability to get to an Internet or to use the wonderful place I have just described, I find myself adding on to my general report. Evidently the Freebird Boar and Restaurant is a sometimes thing. I went there last night without my computer but one of my mates did. He couldn’t get his computer to connect with the Internet and like me he is very impatient so he stopped trying rather quickly. I figured it was because he was just impatient and it seemed to me that I had had a rather trying time to connect but I did and it all worked out. Tonight I went back and tried. Sure enough I tried and tried and even tried the direct dial connection which was supposed to be the end all of connections. Nothing! So, I guess it works sometimes and sometimes it doesn’t. There was another guy on the Internet so I knew it was working but maybe it can only handle one or two at a time. I will try again on Sunday and see what happens.

On the same note as frustrating events, the apartment I had hoped to get with the monstrous balcony is not going to happen. When my administrative assistant went to check on it, the price had gone up. I don’t think I would have minded the increase but since it was a little far from work and it felt like I was being scammed, I decided to just start over. Today I went to look at a few more and there are two I am definitely interested in. One is a three bedroom and is big and clean. It faces a canal, which gives me a little pause but what the hell; typhoid is no longer a serious ailment, right? It is near Mao Tse Tung Boulevard and is not too far from work. The other is a two-bedroom and looks as though it might be perfect. Nice and high, not too near any large bodies of non-flowing water, all tile. They didn’t have a key today but I will return tomorrow and take a look. If it matches my expectations they will have a renter. I also think I can move in now which pleases me no end. (ps: went back – loved it and signed a lease. Will move in on the25th)

Enough for now. I need to read some more of my socialist bible in the guise of a novel. It is called the Ragged Trousered Philanthropists. It is by a guy named Robert Tressell and was printed in 1904 or thereabouts. For decades it was considered the socialists best-written story. I am thoroughly enjoying it and for its age it still captures the ideas of today and why the world is still screwed up.

Paco Parachutists League

The alliteration of the club title just appealed to me. Who knows – maybe another fad could be starting?After the first couple of days here in Phnom Penh, I can report that I am thrilled to be here. It is a vibrant and exciting big city with amenities galore. I have not checked out the bar scene, nor do I expect to for quite some time. I am trying to get acclimated to my jet lag condition and dehydration does not help. However, I expect this condition to pass in a relatively short time; the length of which I cannot predict.

It is Sunday night and as a result of my condition, I am composing this note in the wee hours of the morning, about 1 AM. I took a nap this afternoon and thought that I had slept through the night because when I awoke it I could see daylight. I decided to just lie about for a while since my first meeting wasn’t until 9:30. When I woke again, it was dark and my watch read 7:00 pm. Very confusing but not necessarily a problem. I find that I can do very well on a few hours of sleep at different times of the day. When I begin to put in more time I know that sleep rhythms will sort themselves out. Great work of engineering, the human body.

I am constantly comparing this experience with that of Puerto in Palawan. It isn’t really fair since I didn’t get to Palawan until almost two months after my arrival in the Philippines. But so far Phnom Penh compares very favorably. I am not drained from the heat since it is the cool time of the year. The transportation is very easy and accommodating. Motos (little carriages that are drawn by small motorcycles) and traditional pedicabs are everywhere. I have not taken any motorcycle (similar to cabs, but really a motorcycle) conveyances yet because I am not anxious to drag my helmet along. I am still impressed with my helmet and I expect that when I do begin carrying it, my transition to “Paco” will be more forthcoming. So far it is still “Richard”. I suspect it is because I show somehow that this is my name and is preferable. I am not sure when, if ever, I will start bicycling. I am not ordinarily a fearful person, but the traffic is clearly intimidating. It flows at different speeds, is generally of large number at least on the main boulevards, and moves with apparently complete disregard for other objects whether they are pedestrians, cars, motorcycles or bikes. Directions are relative since traffic flows in both ways literally with the traffic traveling on the correct side of the road having the right of way – I think. So, until I work up the nerve, I will either avoid bicycling or stay only on side streets with less traffic. I haven’t seen any elephants, berserk or not.

Tomorrow (today, because of the crossover of time) I will begin to meet with various personnel from the VSO office and discuss some cultural issues, hunting for a flat (apartment, I know you know that), and some other details. Later in the week I will be meeting with reps from UNESCO, DAC (Disability Action Council) and probably most importantly, members of the Ministry of Education with whom I will be working. I will still have another week to get grounded before doing any serious work but the agenda for that has not been given to me yet.

I have a lead on an apartment that is currently being rented by a girl (lady) who is leaving shortly. It is rumored to be a very nice, large and comfortable flat. I will contact her this week about possibly subletting it. The rumor is also that the landlord is going to raise the rent but unless it is exorbitant I think we will be able to work something out. VSO does provide a rent subsidy of $250/month. The comparison between Palawan and here continues to be significantly different. While the amenities are certainly grater and the cash flow better here, my memories of Palawan and the Philippines are so positive that it will take a long time before Cambodia becomes my Asian idyll. In the meanwhile, I will just have to enjoy being in a foreign land and testing its Shangri-like features.

As I walk along the streets of Phnom Penh or ride the slow moving “Tuk-tuk” (the moto, mentioned earlier), it is hard to fathom that only a few years ago, this entire city was evacuated by the Khmer Rouge and the inhabitants were relocated in “cooperatives”. Hitler called them camps in his day; concentration, in order to be more focused. The entire history of that time here in Cambodia is mind-boggling. There just were not any good guys anywhere. Everyone; French, American, Khmer, Vietnamese, Thai, Chinese, Russian either actively joined in screwing the other guy or looked the other way, or both. After the dead were counted and/or presumed to be – the country began its long haul back into the sunlight and despite drought, complete loss of personal ownership of property, and basically a rebirth using someone else’s currency, the country is actually beginning to see daylight. I had a long talk yesterday with a nurse management adviser who is going home in a few weeks. She extended beyond her 18 months because she had to finish a book that she and her Khmer nurses had written about I-V feeding. It sounds like a manual and was the product of the nurses’ desire to have something concrete to follow when they do a particular procedure. Prior there had not been anything. We also talked about the incredible malnutrition that exists in her work area in the north. I think I will make some detours to visit and see what they are doing there.

Yesterday, I almost literally ran into a Peace Corps guy on the street today as I was searching for an Internet store. He was walking toward me and he looked like a guy I had met the night before with a bunch of VSO’ers at a bar. He, of course, wasn’t the guy I thought, but he did turn out to be a PC’er. We shared some stories about the “Old Corps”(can you believe this turn of events?) and today’s Peace Corps. We exchanged phone numbers – I now am modern and have my own phone number. Next week I have to register with the American Embassy so that they know they can rescue me in case of any trouble or if Canada refuses to accept me as one of their own. This fellow, “Ren”, is in education and is in one of the provinces I am responsible for. Angkor Wat, the famous temple, is in Battanbang Province and he is as well.

Well, that’s it from the Wandering exile. Say a prayer to God, Allah, Buddha or whomever for me. The Druids are working overtime.