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

It is not raining very much in Phnom Penh during this rainy season, but the other provinces are reporting gully-washers. Before I left on part of my annual leave, there had been some heavy storms, mainly in ht afternoon. I like the rainy season and it gives me a great excuse to either sit inside and read, or duck into an open front bar for a delicious icy-cold Anchor draft beer. One bar in particular has adopted this strategy of having ice cold mugs available for every draft. It is the Revolution bar on Street 51 near Norodom Sihaunouk Blvd. Alex is the owner and is of British ancestry. He is married to a Khmei girl and they have just celebrated the birth of their first child. Alex was fortunate to have gotten married before the ban on foreigners marrying Cambodian nationals. I would tell you more about this rather Draconian measure, but I ( and most of the Cambodians I know) really do not know much more than that it was a proclamation and no one seems ot know much else.

Today I received an invitation to attend the Queen’s Birthday bash on 19 June 2008. Required dress is “lounge suit”. I had visions of the leisure suits of the 70’s and after asking my British mates, it seems that this is just a regular suit. Several of the volunteers do not own suits, but they at least have a dress shirt and a tie. I, of course , will attend resplendent in one of my new suits that I had had made earlier this year. In my elegant finery, I will be able to find out why I and my other loud volunteer companion have not heard any more of our invitations to join the British embassy choir. If you recall I think I had predicted an omission of follow up after sobriety set in last December. Whatever, I still think they need my booming voice, off-key renditions of Rudolf the Red-nose, and serious appreciation of the copious amounts of free booze that the Brits lavish on guests at their functions. Maybe I am misreading the generosity of the Brits in deference to the well-developed drinking abilities of the VSO volunteers.

On a similar note, I have also received an invitation to attend the Fourth of July hootenanny at he American Embassy on July 6th, a Sunday. It looks like a family affair with the “7th fleet navy band entertaining the mob, Circus/acrobat performances, Kids’ activities – face-painting, balloon animals, bubbles and playground, Dunking booth, eating contests, food vendors and more!” Admission is (or was – up to May 31st) $3. After June 1st the price of entertainment went up to $5. So far I have not decided exactly what I want to do with my Sunday afternoon from 3 to 7:00 PM, but I am tempted to go and see what the other Americans look like.

Another word on the Queen’s birthday. I am very pleased with the thought of the queens, Cambodian and British, having birthdays otherwise I would be restricted to only 10 to 15 days of holiday a year. This way I can hoist one or two in honor of the fair queens and solemnly chant “Long Live the Queen” and may she have more birthdays every year. Actually the British Queen does have at least two. So, there you go, sports fans, we asked and they delivered.

Work is moving along very well. I don’t think I am doing very much in terms of actual work output, but I am still asked to write speeches for the “suits” and correct and draft reports on conferences and workshops. I am being given more and more allowance to “edit” these reports to include references to areas I believe are important and that somehow get overlooked. In the early days I would include some references to gender iniquities and would be informed that while these were important our focus was on children with disabilities, (read deaf, blind and crippled). I concurred and rewrote when informed but I am noticing much more of my stuff getting through now. Whereas before only some phrases like “So far, so good” tickled their linguistic funny bones, now they are commenting on women’s roles in provincial and central government positions., minority education receiving more attention, and “reaching the unreached”. It also helps that UNICEF, UNESCO, and the World Bank are getting a little more pushy in these matters as well.

I have written a proposal and it was accepted to have myself and another fellow from the Special Education Office and another volunteer and his counterpart from the Disability Action Council go on monitoring and evaluation trip to six of the 24 provinces. These will be short trips, probably a week or a week and a half per pair of provinces, but it will give me a chance to see actual schools and ask questions about inclusive education. The only serious problems with this proposed traveling is getting periods of time where four of us have convenient calendars (or “diaries” as the Brits say) to spend together. If worse comes to worse I will just go with my counterpart or maybe the guy from DAC.

In July, my colleagues are going back to Vietnam, this time to Da nang, to give a report on children with Disabilities or Inclusive Education. I am responsible for developing the Power Point presentation for this although VSO could not fund my attendance. Budget cuts are becoming more the norm than the exception. Even if I cannot go, I am flattered to have a big role in the presentation.

Recently I was introduced to a meeting of Quakers when I visited the U.K. I was thoroughly intrigued by these incredible people and was reminded of my early Druid roots by my Aunt Rosemary, who is a reincarnated Druid Priestess herself. The tolerance of Quakers for almost any belief is fantastic. I read a letter from a “friend” who had basically stopped believing in God but still found the spirituality of the Quakers strengthening and supportive. I don’t mean to antagonize my Christian or Muslim brothers and sisters out there, but this is a revolutionary style of religion. When I think of all of the slaughter and harm and hatred of religious factions over the centuries, I have to believe that the institution and belief systems of these people holds some merit. I intend to investigate this more thoroughly. It is amazing to me that while I have heard of the Quakers since I was a child this was the first time I had actually met any of them. The services I attended were services of silence. No one talks unless they have something to say, and too much talking is discouraged. After the service the Friends meet and have a social hour. More to come.

That is it for now, my faithful and supportive gang. I find it hard to believe that I am in my twelfth month of service. I have learned a lot and hope that I have provided some support to the efforts of these proud and tough peoples. Phnom Penh continues to enjoy a developing prosperity while at the same time, inflation and world affairs continue to march on. I check my home page on yahoo.com for news of the Sox (incredible) and the Cubs (simply unbelievable). I see that Chicago has finally emerged from the winter of discontent it had.

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.

I feel as though I am running a risk of making these letters more personal than informative and knowing that that is the surest way to lose my reading public, I will attempt to share some observations about life in general or Cambodia if you wish.

Tonight I shared a meal with a Cambodian family which was at the worst, surreal, and at the best, a grand display of Cambodian hospitality. My colleagues from the Special Education Office in PP and I are conducting a workshop in Prea Veng on Accelerated Learning. I am including myself in this description inasmuch as I gave an opening talk yesterday about myself and what we are doing in the Special Education Office and two subsequent brief messages on educational methods and values. Today I commented on the concepts of accelerated learning, (not very much) and shared my views of education in Cambodia as compared to America. I gave them my seven (eight?) basic rules of education, which in summary can be described as;

1. Be prepared, plan and carry out the plan even if no one checks on you.
2. Be on time and be at school. The children cannot learn without you being there and what you demonstrate to them, they will do.
3. Unless you know of a very good reason why a child would benefit from spending another year in the same grade, promote him or her. There are countless examples of 16, 17 and 18 year-olds being in first and second grade. Usually they have dropped out for a few years, maybe as many as ten or twelve, before returning.
4. Catch a child being successful and show him or her that you are aware of them being clever, smart and talented. It is always true and the child will grow up to write poems and compose songs singing their praises. This is a paraphrase of what the Homewood schools had emphasized about catching a child being good.
5. Include and incorporate the parents. Find out what talents or skills the parents have and bring them into the classroom. Each teacher might even get lucky and teach a parent or two how to read or do math. At the very least it will be another pair of hands.
6. Incorporate everything into your lessons. Math and Khmer are critical, but science and social studies are also vital. For example, you do not want to repeat some history, especially in Cambodia. I thought this was a little edgy but I seem to have gotten away with it. Use recess and life at home to use math and listening and writing skills daily. Even if you have to scrawl something in the dirt. UNICEF will get you more materials if you show that you will do something with them.
7. Keep your classes lively and above all active. Never allow more than 15 or 20 minutes to pass without a new activity, preferably something involving movement. With 50+ students in a class, this requires good planning
8. Try to never teach 50+ students unless it is a lesson that will work best being taught to a whole group. But never let it last so long that the kids get tired of you. See the previous rule. Break the class into groups and rotate the groups often. Ten groups of five are easier and better than one group of 50. Control the groups and insure that the four or five children (or ten or twelve) with special needs are always in a group with someone who can support them or help them. Check on them often and when something is not working change it. This will be as hard as good lesson planning, but will get easier over time and will in fact allow you to get to know your students better. Use the parents to get adequate information.

I was surprised that the rules went over as well as they did but then again I generally tend to underestimate the power of teachers to take simple concepts and make golden rules of them.

Education is a different system in Cambodia and it is struggling to make a go of it. The ministry of education is almost entirely dependent on donor aid to survive and the impact of certain NGOs like Krousar Thmey (“New Family” in Khmei) training teachers, and teaching blind and deaf children is awesome. The Helen Keller Foundation is also here but their work is mainly in the areas of nutrition so as to prevent blindness. Catholic relief services are a valued agency and of course, “Concern”, an Irish organization, is doing its bit as well.

Ten or twelve years ago, the United Nations at a series of international meetings adopted a concept of Child Friendly Schools. At first glance this seems like such as obvious choice of philosophy that it beggars any argument. However the simple basis of the scheme was to stop hitting and punishing kids routinely. Also show some of the kids work on the walls. A big move forward was to include kids in the exchange between teacher and student. Before it had been mainly the teacher telling and the kids listening (?).

The concept grew to include gender awareness, community mapping to find out where the kids were who should be in school and inclusive education or “Reaching the Unreached”. They are now talking about building schools with ramps for more than just driving your moto up into the classroom or under the overhang. Teachers are beginning to plant gardens and promotion and retention rates as well as statistics on how many girls are enrolled are being kept. The retention rates which were at one time near 30 or 40 %, and that is just for the kids who were in school, are dropping to 12 or 15%. Teachers charging for snacks, extra tutoring, uniforms, and other sundry items which often spelled the difference between a family being able to afford to send their child to school or not, is slowly eroding. The ban (that’s right, a ban!) on hiring women teachers with disabilities is not a law yet, but it is moving in that direction.

I continue to study and try to understand the Khmer people. It is a slow and difficult process and I think I understand it is a task that would require far more social science training than I have had and many more years than I am willing to give to the task. However, in order to make sense of my world I need to look for clues as to why groups act as they do and at the same time try not to either be judgmental or casual in making allowances for traits I find curious or outright negative. That said, I should end this portion of the letter now because I realize that I will fail in all of these efforts and at the risk of being deemed a racist or bigot, I will share some thoughts.

Tonight, as I said, I shared a meal with a Cambodian family, the daughter of whom was a student of Saroeun, my friend from the SEO office. Everything was thoroughly Cambodian from the menu to the sitting style to the conversation and assortment of people in the room. I was the only westerner in the room which was large and filled the role of being the living room, dining area and sleeping quarters for at least two or three of the people present. One of them was a female paying guest who is attending our workshop and could only afford to come by renting a room and meals for 8000 to 12000 riels ($2 to $3) a day. What she saves on her per diem of $5 a day she can use to pay for her transportation and if she is really lucky, supplement her income of $30 a month by a few more dollars. The room I mentioned she is renting, is in reality a bamboo mat on the floor but it is not unusual for family members to have the same sleeping arrangements. This same woman had earlier in the day gotten sick and barfed all over the floor and outside the nearest doorway. It was right after my talk about the seven rules of education. I refuse to think I had anything to do with it. Her performance drew at least half of the audience of 40 participants to watch her chuck her groceries. Then they unceremoniously “hauled” her to a table where they applied the ageless cure of “coining”. This is taking a coin and vigorously rubbing the arm or chest to rid the offending humors from the victim. At the same time a few of the women and men were massaging her back and legs and occasionally feeling her forehead. I thought it would be a good idea to hold a mirror to her mouth but she indicated life by moving her shoulder when one of her well-wishers stopped rubbing it.

When she regained consciousness it was decided to take her home or to the place where she was staying. Coincidentally, it was the same place that my four colleagues and I were going to have dinner that night. My friend Saroeun had the only car so we took her and two other women to the house. Saroeun and I stayed downstairs while they made her comfortable, and we chatted with the girl who was going to have the dinner for us. She had also been with us the night before matching all of the Khmei men drink for drink and not only holding her own, but also forcing them to back down. Since I was only drinking beer while they were drinking wine and I did not engage in all of the “Cheers” and “Chee-ups” that precede every drink, I was in great shape to be an observer. I also taught them “slainte” and made sure they understood it was Irish, not English or American.

Anyway, when I asked if maybe the dinner was postponed due to the convalescence of the lady, Saroeun replied that it was on, why would it not be? I mentioned that maybe the lady will die and that might cause a loss of good will in the household. Saroeun didn’t think that would happen so we stayed on to have dinner.

The room held ten of us, including the convalescing lady who at one point groaned painfully but later recovered enough to have a couple of plates of food given to her. I did not include the young boy in the count because he seemed to come and go and not be a constant member of the dinner party. There was a really old guy (86), older than me as many would point out often, who was there but spent most of his time watching me. Of the ten there was only me and two others who spoke English and since all of the conversation was in Khmer, I was generally a reader of body language more than anything.

The dinner was superb. A hot plate that utilized charcoal as a fuel, rice, noodles, and several different dishes. I had a plentiful amount of eel, which I really don’t like because it is too bony (spine-like articulated bones), and regular fish, which I really do like, once I get past the bones. Dessert was mangos and bananas, which were good. I half expected some Lambanoug, which is a palm wine in the Philippines and rather potent, but none came and I was pleased. I finished with a complimentary toothpick, again traditional, and thanked my hostess profusely for making me feel at home. The ailing lady by this time was sitting up and telling us about her sister who married a Canadian and lives in Canada. Her husband is way fatter than I am and her sister is only 45 kilos, about 99 pounds. I didn’t bother to mention that Love is blind.

Now I am back in my $4 a night hotel room. I always get a room by myself wherever I can since I am rich and can afford to pay extra. My per diem is twice as much as the lady at the conference – a whopping $10 a day, which I have to collect receipts for if I wish to get compensated. This computes out at $6 a night for a room and $4 for food. After six days here I will probably be another 10 to $15 over my budget because I bought the drinks the night of the drinking fest. This trip is definitely not life in the fast lane and I will be very happy to get back to my new digs and kick back. I will share more about that later.

In the meanwhile, stay loose and enjoy life and skip the eel unless you really love it. I remain, Paco, the chauffeured Barang in Prea Veng, Cambodia.

P. S. I forgot my camera and am going crazy with all of the missed photo ops.

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.

Another brief note on the ways of Phnom Penh and in turn, Cambodia. I continue to marvel at the ways of drivers both foreign and domestic in this capital city of Cambodia.

The traffic, which I have always found to be similar to rush hour in downtown Chicago with a fraction of Chicago’s population, has shown me the Ying and Yang of traffic influences. First, the Ying. On Chinese New year (February 6-7-8) a cannon shot down the main thoroughfares would certainly have hit someone, probably a Barang, but it would have an equal chance of hurtling a long distance before it did find its mark. The city was absolutely churchlike in its silence and respect for the holiday. The huge public markets were for the most part closed, which doesn’t occur at other times of the year in my impression. I will defer further judgment on a similar happening until the Khmer New Year which is April 13-14-15. In my research I have discovered that it is estimated that 80% of the Cambodian people are linked somehow to the Chinese. This is either being of full Chinese lineage or a large percentage of their ancestry. They all claim to be Cambodian but whether they are Khmer is speculative. The semantics on this whole topic area arguable since to be Cambodian is to be Khmer, but to be Chinese is to be culturally significant.

So, here I was, not exactly celebrating the New Year, but thoroughly enjoying the quiet, the run of the streets on my moto, and the general calm that existed throughout. Unlike the frenzy of the International New Year, which exists here as well as in the States or at least the major cities, this was celebrated with stores closing, people going to pagodas or “pak odahs” as it is pronounced locally, and a few firework displays. I could drive down Noradom, and Monivong, and Mao Tse Tung and only have a few motos and cars for company. I could travel one end of the city to another and the traffic lights would either only be blinking or all green, or off and no confusion or problems at any intersections. The more serious traffic would be on the side street intersections where the random crisscross of traffic would have the car and/or motos come across each other in a surprise occurrence that rarely would be serious since everyone for the most part has learned, (yours truly, included) to be cautious at any crossing. The use of the omnipresent horn is for this circumstance.

Now for the yang. This week I have been afflicted with the bane of the tropics, intestinal issues, or in more common layman’s language, chronic diarrhea. It manifests in the usual format but also carries the added burden of flu like symptoms, that is, head ache, severe fatigue, and the added cross of never wanting to be very far from a toilet. I managed for a day or two and then went to our company doctor and she prescribed – no work for three days, serious antibiotics (flagyl and cipro) and lots of fluids. Today is the last of the three days off of work and I will be glad to go back.

But not to digress too much, I did go out for meals starting yesterday to get a change from the soup and sandwiches I was eating, again according to doctor’s orders to eat something – anything, to assist the pills I was taking. I made the mistake of leaving my house about 5 Pm and after chatting for a few minutes with my landlady, I drove off on Street 63 toward the complex of restaurants and shops in NGO Land that my part of town is known by. Street 63 as I may have mentioned earlier is a quiet, tree lined, very small town-like, French colonial residential street that is a pleasure to look at and walk down. Yesterday however I was amazed at the sheer volume of traffic. It would have been easier to walk than to try and drive anything even a bicycle. And at certain intersections it was absolutely gridlocked. I turned off beautiful Street 63 because I thought it was a local condition, but every street I tried was the same. Finally I got to the little vegetarian roof top restaurant I have discovered which gives me a nice view of the main drag of Sihanouk and Norodom and it was like watching a circus and a grand parade and a political convention all rolled into one. My analogy of the river still holds true for traffic but this river was turgid, and choked with fallen trees and at full flood stage. Traffic moved, but ponderously, and with very little incentive. This lasted for a good half an hour or so and when I left, it was better but still full of all sorts of vehicles and traffic. I have to add trucks to the mix at this point. I don’t think I have mentioned them previously because I never really noticed them before. But now they create an even greater influence because none of the traffic wants to be behind them and no one wants to give way and everybody is reluctant to challenge them too severely. So you have a continual series of “chicken” being played, with the trucks inevitably winning and moving along like dinosaurs heading for their last round-up. That’s the ying and yang of traffic in Phnom Penh.

These months are good for lots of plant life in Cambodia, but since I am such a city guy I can only speak directly to what I see outside my apartment or from my balcony. In my courtyard there is a mango tree, which I can reach from my balcony. Across the little street is a palm tree with coconuts growing on it. Down the street is another mango tree. I have attached photos in what I hope will become a more visual experience in my future newsletters since I am afraid you will be bored with incessant descriptions of traffic, personal life, Yatta, Yatta, Yatta. The mangos are becoming bigger and riper each day and soon I will be able to just pluck one and add a sour shrimp paste or whatever goes with mangos (raw is good) and have a treat. The coconuts I will leave to whoever likes coconut milk (I don’t) and the meat, which is good for Amok, which is Khmer for many dishes, made with this liquid (which I do like). When I first arrived in Cambodia and heard about this type of cuisine I though it was an adjective for the state of life, but I soon changed my opinion.

Next week I am on my own in the office because my office mates are all off to Bangkok to present a paper on Bilingual education. They are truly saddened that I am not going since I helped a lot in preparing the paper but VSO is undergoing dramatic budget cutbacks and I was not authorized. If I had thought more about it I should have just gone ahead and joined them anyway. Next time. When they return however, they and I will head out for Siem Reap for a Deaf/blind conference. I am not sure which area I represent –probably the dumb, since I will never have full confidence in my language skills. That will cover a couple of days. Then back to the furnace of activity in Phnom Penh and more of the same old, same old. In the meanwhile, Continue being yourselves and know that I miss you and care for you.

Your wandering pilgrim, Paco the not so agrarian type.

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

I decided to not work today, we are 13 to 15 hours ahead of you guys in the States.  Actually the guys in the office did not understand why I would come in on my holiday.  When there is a holiday the rule is take it.  So I have worked out, had a massage, am drinking my microbrewery black beers, and thinking of all of you. I plan to go out to a party a little later on but that is optional and I will see how things go.

Enough said.  I love you all and sincerely pray that your very best year of your life is coming up.

Richard, Dick, Paco and your humble Pilgrim.

I have discovered that I am capable of making strange and “little’ sounds as I travel through the ways of Phnom Penh. Some of this I was conscious of before as I suddenly became aware of a motorist or cyclist inches away from my rear as I traveled down the street. I have spent months adjusting to this phenomenon and I think I was uttering less or more understandable expressions now than the standard range of “uh-oh”, “eh” or “ehhhhhh” depending on the degree of being startled. But now, I have bought a moto.

Yes, comrades all, instead of being safe and dependable on my kong (bicycle) I have invested in a brand new, Honda Spider 110 cc moto that will get me through the streets of Phnom Penh in lightening speed. This often translates to between 25 and 45 KPH (or 15 and 25 MPH, for the citizens who have refused to accept the world standard of metric). My speedometer goes much, much higher but I frankly don’t anticipate ever testing the limits of this vehicle since I am also discovering what a true coward I am. The moto cost me $770, which seems to be a decent price from all of the Khmei I have shared the cost with and even before I bought the bike, I had checked several places. Anticipating the several suggestions to:
1. Have my head examined.
2. Be very, very careful.
3. Try walking the bike instead of driving it.
4. Hire a driver and be a passenger
5. Go ahead and drive fast, and maybe this will end all of this foolishness.

I will take them all under consideration and promise to be very, very careful.

I have also been good to myself in the clothes division. After being embarrassed to be the only delegate to the SEAMEO conference in Ho Chi Minh City last month not to be wearing a suit, I have had two made. They are of wool-cashmere and are tailored to fit my svelte body. I still think the pants are too long but the saleslady assures me that they are perfect. This was while she was grasping the back of the suit coat I had on with a firm grip. The two are nice and I have had two opportunities to wear them in the last two weeks.

The first was at the British ambassador’s residence for “Christmas caroling”. This is referred to in the British community as a “knees-up” shindig after a quaint old music hall ballad singing about “Knees-up, Mrs. Brown!”, a lively tune guaranteed to get everyone’s spirits soaring. So, I donned my new dark grey with blue pinstripes and new tailored shirt (white) and a classy tie (came free with the suit) and sally forthed (I know it is not a word, but it sounds British).

It was a great evening. Lots of carol singing and enough restricted singing only by the choir they had there for the occasion to guarantee some quality. The director of the choir sang one of my all-time favorites, “Jerusalem” which I had tried to get for Mary Kay’s funeral. I have heard John McCormack’s version and it is probably the definitive version. I complimented the Ambassador on his choir and choice of music and he replied that his wife was totally in charge of cultural activities. I then asked Elaine, (Yes, we are on a first name basis, maybe not by choice on their part) whether I could expect to hear “Finnegan’s Wake” at next year’s party. Her reply was somewhat cryptic inasmuch as she said, “Well, Richard, if you are still here we will certainly consider it.” Not exactly the ringing acceptance of my suggestion I had hoped for, and curiously including the possibility of my not being here. Ah well, I am sure there is no hidden message there.

But, I have to say that MI5 or Mi6 or whoever is in charge of vetting the guest lists screwed up here. Allowing me in to sing my heart out on some of the more lively carols, evidently brought me to the attention of Evelyn and Stan the ambassador. They invited me and Sarah Woodridge to join the choir. I assure you; no one was more amazed than I was. I explained that first, I couldn’t read music, second I was a yank an I wasn’t sure my passport allowed such genteel activities, and three, for those who know me, I can’t sing worth a crap and I would destroy any credibility they have ever earned. All that aside, I will probably at least go to a practice or two before they start rehearsing at different venues and not telling me.

The opportunity to wear my second suit, a nice beige job with a tailored blue shirt ($12 like the other one) and a great matching tie (also free with the suit) was to give a presentation to the Vietnamese and Chinese study tours here in Cambodia. They are visiting courtesy of VSO and I was asked to give a one-hour presentation on my role in the ministry and how I personally am helping Cambodia become the world leader that the ancient kings of Kampuchea had envisioned before France, the Americans, Pol Pot and the Vietnamese interrupted their path to glory. I am sad to say that I did not accomplish that goal since one hour includes short bursts of sentences, then translations, and a fair portion of time for Q & A. I might have gotten 15 to 20 minutes of actual presenting time in. The questions were good, astute, and knowledgeable. I thanked them and returned the eyeglasses to the hostess of the weeklong tour.

Why did I return her glasses? Because that morning I lost my other glasses. I had laid them down on the seat of my brand new moto (have I told you about that?) and while donning my helmet, which I never go without now, I forgot about the freaking glasses. At least I think that was the sequence. This is the second pair of glasses I have lost or misplaced or whatever and they are right up there with computers as my nemesis. I brought two pairs of prescription sunglasses with me to Cambodia and still have both pair. I think that God wants me to be a cool dude.

When I went in to Lucky Optics to order up a new pair, they greeted me cheerfully. After all I am becoming one of their best customers. When I told them I wanted two pair in case this happens again, they agreed that this was probably a good idea. I am sure they have confidence in me not losing them again, but they are ever polite and agreeable. However, when I asked when they would be ready, it turns out that in Singapore where the bifocals are made, they celebrate Christmas and it would take one month. I replied that was all well and good for world peace and the baby Jesus, but I needed my glasses now. After all, it is all about me, right? “Sorry,” says they, smiling all the while. But I could have a pair of reading glasses today. “There you go”, says I. Reading glasses, today, bifocals one month from now. Who says that we are not making our way toward the long held vision of the Ancient Kings of Kampuchea?

Just a quick word about Lucky ______ (fill in the blank). I do a lot of my shopping at Lucky market next door, and I have my prescriptions filled at the Lucky pharmacy down the street from the market. I am not sure but there might be plans for a Lucky pub and a Lucky brothel in the offing. I am not sure who this guy “Lucky” is but he is sure an active entrepreneur and he gets a lot of my business.

Well, that is it for now and I will save my proofreading for later when I have my prescription reading glasses that will have a string attached to them courtesy of the young lady who told me her grandfather is always losing his glasses also. I will practice some more on my moto and save my new suits for another awesome event, hopefully before next year’s Christmas bash at the Ambassador’s residence.

Your wandering musical pilgrim, Richard (Also, Paco,since I am wearing my helmet all of the time now).

Some words on food might be in order at this point in my journey. For the most part I eat traditional fare such as pizza, sandwiches, oatmeal for breakfast and the omnipresent coffee. I have seriously cut back on beer since it is a source of dehydration, and have substituted water, that ageless miracle drug. Occasionally, I get a craving for something well prepared and very traditional, such as a pasta meal at a very elegant and (for Cambodia) expensive meal. I decided last Friday to go to La Luna, which is near the fashionable part of the city, and indulge. I ordered a Tuna Tartar for an appetizer. It was delicious and I was intrigued by the style of dish. I am familiar with Steak Tartar and have recently enjoyed that dish with Vyto after a couple of our golf games at a bar which has a decidedly political, nationalistic flair, but a very good culinary tradition and incredibly good beer. Since tuna does not carry the same degree of a notion of spoilage that beef does I felt safer with this. It was a good choice. I had also ordered a “classical” (as it said in the menu) martini with olives. This is a departure since I have not drunk a martini in over 30 years but it was very good and slightly sweet. Maybe too much vermouth but only my friend, Tony Barrett, might find that a disparagement.

An absolutely great addition and unordered, but no doubt standard fare was a side dish of anchovies and slivers of garlic in probably natural oil. It was “to die for”. Now I know that not everyone likes or even allows anchovies to be in the same time zone as themselves, but for those of you who remember a restaurant on East 79th Street called Alexander’s, you will also remember their famous salad with three or four anchovies laid out across the top. Their salad dressing was the famous part but the anchovies are what kept me coming back.

Next the main dish was an ordinary Spaghetti Bolognese, which was very good. I enjoyed a house wine, Rosa Red that was a merlot. I figured I should have a carafe since I wasn’t sure if one glass would be enough. One glass wouldn’t have been but a carafe was a little too much. By the end of this course I was full and asked for the check. The waitress informed me that I still had a complimentary digestiva coming and I could choose between a “Black Gold” which is made from the select licorice vines of Calabria, or a lemon liqueur made from some other flora from another part of Italy. I opted for the Black Gold and it was outstanding. I will try to find out more about it since it was so good.

Grand total for everything was a brutal $32. This is incredibly rich for Cambodia but it did allow me to have a reality check on the good things in life. I probably won’t go back there unless it is for a very special event but in the meanwhile it will serve as a reminder that I should learn how to cook and do more at home. My only comparable dish was some bugle pasta shells with a package of ground pork and a can of garlic tomato sauce. I only did this because the ground pork had been in my freezer for maybe a month and a half and I was getting a little worried about it. I cooked it all up and then served myself straight out of the pot, no doubt causing dismay to my elegant sisters who I don’t think ever ate anything out of the pot in their lives. But a good friend, Ron Siegel, had made an art form of this eating strategy and it saved untold hours of cleaning, etc.

In keeping more with the traditions of Cambodia, I should describe the standard fare of the natives here. Vegetables play a very large role in their meals. Meat is a general common accompaniment but the stock or soup is generally well filled with veggies. Much of their cuisine I understand flows directly from China and their influences are based on availability and supply. One ingredient that is disappearing from the Mekong and the other major rivers in Cambodia and eventually elsewhere along the route of the mighty Mekong is the eel. I see it now and then in the markets but so far I have not had an urge to grab hold and test it. Another option I see in the markets, the more western type, is choices among the eggs. Chicken eggs are sold by the dozen but duck eggs are usually in packages of four. I have tried the duck eggs a couple of times and while I can’t say with any certainty that I can tell the difference, it does seem as though I like the duck eggs better. As long as there is not an embryo contained inside I am happy.

Last item of worthy mention. I have enjoyed several times a carrot (In Khmei, Kar ot) soup. It is delicious and with a lemon juice drink, the highlight of a day.

That is it for now. I rather doubt that my times and travels will expose me to much variance in the culinary world and if it does I won’t be able to tell you the recipes. But I have enjoyed a few meals with a charcoal burner at the table, which has varied between a soup in which we kept pouring in vegetables and another time in which we cooked strips of beef. Every occasion was good, but repeatedly interrupted by signals to “chin-chin” or “Sirrup” or some call to toast one another – me with my beer and the fellows with their wine, which makes you strong. It says so on the bottle.

Take care, all of my dear friends and loved ones. Eat well and enjoy. Life is not bad at all. Your wandering pilgrim, Richard, Paco, and maybe Xavier Delapreé, whose name I am considering stealing. He is a computer guy who free lances here in Phnom Penh and I like his name a lot. I don’t know anything about his computer skills.