My Christmas Wish List

It's the most wonderful tiiiiime of the yeeeeaaaar!

Christmas Wish List

ME

Shorts/capris

Food

Movies ( I’m really fond of the Disney and pixar variety)

Cookies

Watch

Degrassi seasons 6 and 7

Sunglasses

Peanut Butter

Granola Bars

Headphones

Oatmeal

Tweezer
Toothbrush

Pisal

DVD Player

Sokhen
Hair Straightener

Soaps and lotions

Kitchen Utensils

Nail Polish

Kingla

Crayons/markers

Coloring book

Mr. Bean

Looney Toons

Solita

Clothes

Toys

Srey Leak

Soaps and lotions
Nail Polish 

Send me stuff! (come on... at least a letter!)

My address:

Diana Broberg K5

Peace Corps Cambodia

U.S. Embassy

P.O. Box 2453

Phnom Penh 3 Cambodia ASIA

OR Secret option B is that you can save a lot of money on packaging by sending your stuff to my house in America. My older brother Dan is coming to visit me for Christmas, and will be bringing christmas gifts with him. 

I guess maybe I shouldn't post that address here... so if you want my home address for my brother to deliver your gifts, contact me and I'll get it for you.

An awesome mani-pedi from one of my best friends at site.

Baby monkeys

After I took this shot the mother started chasing me, growling. I admit to being a little afraid.

yum! pig!

Khmer people are usually cremated, unless they have chinese heritage. These are chinese graves, and these pictures come from a Chinese holiday, Ching Ming. They offer things to deceased ancestors at their graves.

haha caught my host brother bein silly with a pretty umbrella.

Extended family members.

All the stuff we offered. The idea is that if we offer paper cars and gold and watches and clothes, then the deceased relative will have that in their next life.

Then you burn incense and decorate the grave

Colorful streamers

A Month of Baby

One month ago, my sister gave birth. And in that moment, all of our lives were changed for good…

Okay, I’ll cut the dramatics.

But seriously, it’s been interesting.

My sister actually went to Phnom Penh to have her baby. She had a C-section, though I couldn’t really tell you why. I have to admit, part of me wonders if that was completely necessary, or if they just did that because to them it would seem ‘modern.’ I couldn’t say. All I know is that my family could not afford it, and my extended family forked over hundreds of dollars to pay for the hospital bill that amounted to over $1,000.

When my brother went to Phnom Penh to be with his wife, I sent him with a book I bought for her. My sister has recently showed interest in reading, and I wanted to encourage that, and also give her something to do in the days that she was bored in a hospital bed. I thought it was an awesome gift idea. It was a big book full of happy short stories in Khmer. Well, I found out later that she never read it. Her husband and her mother wouldn’t let her. Apparently it’s Khmer belief that if a woman uses her eyes too much after giving birth… well something bad will happen to her. So that means no reading and no TV.

Luckily, the most famous Khmer birthing tradition was avoided. In the villages, after a woman gives birth and comes home, the family will cook her for days. They lay her on a low wooden bed, wrapped in blankets, and light a fire under the bed. They believe they are releasing all of the sickness, weakness, and pain from the body by doing that. My sister was not cooked because she was in a real hospital in Phnom Penh.

Eventually, my sister came home to Prey Veng with the baby, and I got to meet her.

She is the SPITTING IMAGE of her father. The eyes might have a small trace of her mother, but the rest of her face is her father.

My sister came home wearing a ski cap. She wore that ski cap for 2 weeks straight. She didn’t even wash her hair.  After a while, I finally teased her about it, asking if she was expecting it to snow. She laughed and said it is Khmer tradition to wrap a woman’s head and keep it warm after having the baby. Maybe this was her version of the cooking. At heart, my sister is a small village girl, and really sticks to all the superstitions and traditions that go with that.

Before the arrival of the baby, I was wondering about how breastfeeding was gonna go in the house. Where is she going to go for that privacy? Is she going to be embarrassed with me there? I wanted to make sure she had her space and that I didn’t get in the way. But realistically, I’m just awkward and I didn’t want to be present for that. Well, the first night I was there, I was meeting the baby, sitting next to her and watching her small purple face. Then my sister decided it was time breast feed. OH there’s her boob! She just popped it out right then and there, and all my questions were answered in that second. I guess we’re on that level. And I knew I’d be seeing quite a bit of my sisters boobs for the rest of my time here.

The second night she was home with the baby, I was going to brush my teeth and tuck in for the night when I smelled something awful… and then I saw my sister. She was covered in this stinky yellow/orange paste. She was rubbing it all over her body, making her look a sickly yellow. I probably looked a sickly yellow from the smell itself. She awkwardly laughed as I looked at her and just said “Khmer tradition!” I decided not to press this issue further. However, the house reeked of that stuff for days afterwards.

Since then every day has been pretty much the same.

My sister and the baby spend almost all day and all night upstairs under a mosquito net.

The baby gets a bucket back twice a day.

The baby poops a lot.

And cries a lot more.

My sister hasn’t left the house, and didn’t even leave the room for 3 weeks.

My sister eats upstairs. I eat downstairs with Kingla, the first daughter.

My sisters youngest sister and Kingla do all of the house work, which includes cooking my dinner.

My sister does no housework.

The baby cries at least 3 times every night.

Every once in a while, I stop by the bed, to crouch down and sit next to the baby and give her some love (what kind of an aunt would I be if I didn’t?) Every time I do that, my sister feels the urge to tell me that her baby is black.

Baby Solita has beautiful, soft, chocolate colored skin. But here in Cambodia, that’s the worst kind of skin, especially for a girl. Every day, my sister mentions the “ugly black skin” numerous times. When I come to coo at the baby she mentions it. When I walk through the room on my way to the bathroom she says it. When a friend or family comes to meet the baby, she says it. When she’s bathing Solita she says it. When she’s breastfeeding she says it. When she’s alone and thinks no one is listening she says it. Honestly, after some time it started to really get to me. Every time, I dutifully remind her that her baby is beautiful INCLUDING the skin. Can you imagine waiting 9 months for the arrival of your baby, and when it finally comes, you, the mother, are disappointed with the color of your baby? So disappointed that you obsess over it, and even make apologies and excuses when you introduce your baby to friends and family.

Sometimes my sister says she hates her husband for making her baby black like him. She’s kidding, but there’s always a little truth is jest, isn’t there?

Once, she sort of blamed me. She brought up the whole coca-cola belief. Months ago, she told me that coca-cola makes babies black when the mamas drink it. I told her that was not true. Then, at a party I convinced her to have a glass of coke instead of a can of beer (the lesser of two evils). Well, that was brought up, and she basically said “I told you so.”

Despite all her.. well, all her not doing anything, my sister is exhausted. I guess that’s from all the getting up in the middle of the night. One day recently, she was downstairs walking around like she was in a trance. She was actually talking to herself haha. She walked for a bit, and said “I have to..go.. Solita is crying.” Solita was not crying. She was sound asleep. My sister was hearing things lol.

My brother has been trying with the baby, sort of. Realistically there is not much for him to do, because my sister is at the baby’s side every second. But he has held her and laid next to her. One of our family friends said “just wait till she learns to laugh and listen, then he’ll really love her.” I’m sure that will be the case.  I'm looking forward to that myself.

In just the last few days, the baby has actually been brought downstairs. The baby sleep on a mat in a hammock (the typical Khmer version of a crib). There is a string attached to the hammock, so a family member can always sit next to the baby, and swing the hammock. It works pretty well, the baby often stops crying when she is swung.

Solita, one week

Solita, one month, in her hammock crib.

The following pictures are from this past April

This is a traditional Khmer New Year Game. You have to knock down the rocks in a specific order by tossing another rock. When a player succeeds, they win the right to hit all of their opponents on the knee with a rock. I like this game!

Girls vs. Boys

It's Good!

The beginning stages of the World Map project

We measured it out and painted a big blue box.

Some students were hard at work. Others did an excellent job of observing.

All the students who helped paint the big blue box.

The next day, some other students came to measure out the grid that would help us draw the countries.

Straight lines are hard.

After the lines were drawn, box by box, the world map could be drawn.

The Hello Game

I think to a certain extent, almost every PCV plays the “Hello” game in their country. Simply put, the hello game is when the locals greet you in some way, and you must decide whether their greeting deserves a response.

At first, the Hello Game may seem fun, but unfortunately, it’s not fun for all. When I first arrived in country and was warned about the Hello Game, I figured, like everyone else, how bad could it really get? We were told by veteran PCVs that there will really be days where we are so fed up that we have to fight the urge to punch a small child in the face. That seemed like an exaggerated joke, or a hyperbole, if you will, but I’m here to tell you it’s true. I don’t care how much you love children, and how vast your patience is. The Hello Game is a game you sometimes just. dont. want. to. play.

After being at site for a while, I believe all PCVs take the Hello Game at its simplest form, and alter it. I believe this is because we are looking for SOME sort of control in the game. Eventually, we have rules, stipulations, and clear-cut winners and losers. Some rules are likely universal, some specific to Cambodia, and some specific to the volunteer.

So how do you win or lose the hello game? Unfortunately friends, the PCV never wins, but the PCV can lose, simply by either judging a greeting falsely, or by losing his or her cool (and punching that small child who was just the last straw). A win for a local happens when their greeting meets all criteria, and is thus rewarded with a returned greeting. A loss is when the greeting breaks the rules, and thus goes by ignored.

Here are some of MY rules

You WIN if:

1. You are a boy under the age of 12, or a woman
2. Your greeting is polite and follows ALL criteria.

You LOSE if:

1. You are male over the age of 13 (unless I know who you are, and your hello follows all other criteria)
2. You say hello more than once (ex. HELLOHELLOHELLO does not cut it)
3. You say “hello everybody.” I am not everybody. I am one person.
4. You say “HELLOWHATISYOURNAME!”
5. Or “HELLOILOVEYOU”
6. Or worst of all “HELLOMONEYINTHEBANK!”
7. Or “Whereyougo”
8. You and/or your buddies laugh uncontrollably after saying hello.
9. You beep your moto horn at me.
10. Your hello last longer than 3 seconds.
11. You are more than 50 feet away
12. I have already passed you on my bike, and you are now screaming at my back.
13. You reach out to grab me or my bike as you zoom past me on your moto or truck.
14. You babble gibberish at me to make your friends laugh because it looks like your speaking another language
15. It is before 6:00AM
16. Or after 6:00PM
17. You call me sir
18. You call me barang
19. You say “hello moto”
20. Or “hello tuk tuk” as those are not my name.
21. “OEEEEWW” is not another form of hello
22. You say “bonjour mademoiselle. ” (I realize this is polite, but I don’t know how to respond. Actually to be honest, usually I do say “uhhh.. no French. Khmer.”
23. You already played the game in the last 20 minutes.
24. I hear (and understand) you making fun of me in the moment leading up to your hello.
25. You are on a moto driving the opposite way as me, really quickly
26. You shout “TEACHER!” for no reason, other than to make me look in your direction, and then you laugh.

There are more, but that’s enough to get you thinking, eh?

And I know what you’re thinking. So what? Everyone wants to say hello to you. Why is that so bad? And my answer to you is.. ok, you’re right, it’s not. So let’s trade lives for a while and see how you take it after just 2 months. You won’t understand it til you live it.

Not all greetings I experience insanely rude and/or obnoxious. There are some that I will always respond to, and even miss when I go back to America.

• I love when students see me outside of school, and their face lights up as they say “hello teacher” or “hello ‘cher.”
• I love when I enter a classroom and the entire class stands in respect. But at the same time, I love when in my private classes, students don’t do that, but instead shout “JOAL RE-UN!” or “ENTER TO STUDY!”
• I love when students use the slang I taught them. My favorite is “what’s up, teacher?”
• I love when a toddler on a moto driving ahead of me turns around in his mother’s arms and silently waves.
• I love when students take off their hat to greet me. I feel like it’s the 40s and they’re tipping their hat to me.
• I love when students catch my eye from a distance, and instead of screaming Hello at me, break into a dance I taught them.
• I love when an older female friend puts her hand on my shoulder, back, or even butt to say hello, like they are fondly claiming me. (don’t judge. This is the closest thing to a hug I get here.

These Pictures are from back in March when one of my LCFs (teachers) from training got married and invited a bunch of us to his wedding in Svay Reing.

Me, Savin (another teacher), Samon (the groom), a village friend, and Rathana (yet another teacher)

Samon and Me

I wish I could say that this is me busting a move on that dance floor, but in reality there was a giant cricket on my shoulder.

The bride!

Bride and Groom!

The foreigners!

 These pictures are unrelated:

Teacher is goofy.

The students who participated in the Writing Olympics

7th graders playing a Khmer New Year game

Awesome Person Award, Part I

            Needless to say, there are some really incredible people  here that I’ve met, and I’ve been inspired by their acts of kindness, whether it’s directed toward me or not. I’m going to write about 2 of them here, and look for more another time. Kinda like a series!

My brother-in-law, Pollo.

            His real name is Pollo, but everyone calls him Trea or Tea, which is Chinese for Uncle. I guess he has some Chinese blood in him. I’m related to him through my host brother. My host brother’s sister is married to him, making him my brother-in-law. He is named Pollo, after the first spaceship to land on the moon, because that’s the year he was born.

            Pollo is an exemplary man by any culture’s standards. Sometimes it’s so easy to lose faith in men here, but there really are some good, hardworking men. As I said, he is married and with 2 children, but his wife and children live in Phnom Penh. Pollo lives here on our compound during the week, and visits his family on the weekends. He is a doctor (though not licensed?) and works at the local Health Center. He is highly respected by the entire village because he is good at what he does and he is reliable.

            His two children are 10 and 7. His 10 year old son is brilliant and adorable and I have high hopes he’ll grow up to be just like his father. His 7 year old daughter is mentally handicapped, but is well loved and well taken care of by the whole family, especially by her father. Many men in Cambodia are very hands-off in raising the children, especially when the going gets tough, but Pollo is not. He is there to literally feed his daughter, and to answer every question she repeats over and over.

            Pollo does not drink, which is close to a miracle in Cambodia. He doesn’t smoke. He does not visit brothels. He works. And he works hard. He goes to the Health Center early in the morning. Around lunchtime he comes home for an hour. He sets up his hammock, grabs a book, and reads until he falls asleep for a few minutes. Then he goes back to the Health Center and is there until it is nearly dark, when he comes back and has dinner with us. He does his laundry either at night, or on the occasional weekends that he is here. He does not live in our house, but rather in this tiny shack that barely has 4 walls behind the house. I gather that almost all of his money goes to Phnom Penh to support his family. On the rare occasion that he gets home before dark, he does other strenuous house work such as pumping water, watering the plants, drying the rice, gardening, and irrigating the front lawn.

            I personally really enjoy time with Pollo as well. He is really intelligent, and we’ve had conversations about intricate topics like politics, religion, culture, geography, history, health etc. Though he says otherwise, he can speak English a pretty good amount, especially considering he is self-taught. Pollo is CONSTANTLY testing my Khmer proficiency. If there is a particularly lengthy and fast Khmer conversation happening, he’ll stop a ways into it and ask me if I understand what is being said. He gets a kick out of it every time I say “I stopped listening a while ago already.” If I claim to understand the conversation, he’ll ask me to translate, or summarize in Khmer, and he laughs as I try to blunder through a translation. Sometimes I give him a taste of his own medicine (hah, Doctor joke), and I’ll make him think in English.

            Of course there was also that time that I was really sick, and he went out at 10PM to the Health Center to get and IV for me. Then he came back and put the IV in. He called Peace Corps and settled things with the Peace Corps doctor. He watched over me for a while.

            Other things I know about Pollo is that he lost a lot of his family during the Khmer Rouge Genocide, though I don’t remember who. His marriage was arranged, but he has grown to love his wife very much. He is extremely health conscious, and won’t even eat meat other than locally caught fish or frogs because he doesn’t want to ingest whatever chemicals might go into the meat at the slaughterhouse or the market. He has a car for going back and forth to see his family, but he also has a sweet mountain bike (100x better than my city bike). If he’s not running late and it’s not raining, he prefers to take his bike to get in a little exercise. He’s a handsome guy, with a lighter complexion and jet black hair. I would say he does look more Chinese than Khmer. He has a polite, kind face, and the best high-pitched laugh in the village.

            The other “ awesome person award” goes to a fairly new friend of mine here in the village. Her name is Seng Heak (I think. I’ve never used her name, as it is very rude for a younger person to call an older person by their name).

            I met her because I go through phone cards really quickly for my internet. So, for a few reasons, I was on the lookout for another phone shop to get my phone/internet credit. First, because I literally used to cause my phone shop to run out of phone cards because I bought all of them, and second, because if I keep buying from the same person every time, they’re eventually going to think I’m loaded. Obviously, I’m not loaded, I just try to make sure I budget for internet, because it’s really important for me. Anyways, I digress... but that is how I happened on Seng Heak’s shop. It’s on the far side of the market, but it’s not too deep into the market where I have to brave mud ponds and crowds.

            One day when I was there, I saw at her shop one of my 7th grade students from the previous year, and found out he was her son. Actually, it was one of my problem kids! The kind of kid who literally just talked over the teacher’s lesson, and came late almost every day. Seng Heak asked me if I ever taught her son, and I told her yes. The poor kid had this face on like.. ‘this conversation can’t possibly benefit me.’ And she told me, ‘he’s a naughty kid! Right? Is he naughty?’ Not really sure how to respond I said ‘yeah, a little.’ She laughed and said “well, you have my permission to hit him. I don’t know how to hit him, so somebody’s gotta!’ I laughed... not really sure if she was kidding, and went on with my business.

            The next time I went to buy a card, she asked me if I was teaching any beginner classes. I figured she was talking about for her son, so I began to tell her about my summer classes at the school, but then she said for HER. Instead, I told her about my class for adults that I do 2 or 3 times a week. I told her the time and place. She said that it sounded great, because she’d be embarrassed to study with children. I paid for my card and walked away, honestly not expecting her to come. People have asked me about my adult class before, and I’ve invited them, but they usually don’t actually come.

            However, the next class she was there, with a pen and a new book, ready to study. I admit that at first I was a little frustrated because the adult class had been studying with me for 8 or 9 months already and know quite a bit. I knew I would have to do a TON of review, I’d have to slow down the rest of the students, and deal with the fact that a lot of the content was going to go right over her head. The first few classes didn’t go so well. The English sounds were so foreign to her, and she was really struggling to memorize the words. After a few classes, she asked me “Teacher, what can I do to learn English quickly?” (This is actually a very common question that I get so much it almost makes me crazy. People literally believe that I have some sort of magical solution to learning English other than just studying hard. They think because I am a foreigner, I can put English into their brain through osmosis with little time and even less effort.) I just told her what I tell everyone. Study. Before you come to class, look over your notebook and review what we did last time so it’s fresh in your mind. I also invited her to come 15 minutes before the other students so I can try to do a little bit of catch-up in that time.

            Now here we are, nearly 2 months later. She is doing just fine. Obviously, there are things that go over head, but the stuff that she was here to learn, she remembers. She is always the first one to come to class, and I’m slowly teaching her the stuff she missed, like how are you, what is your name, where are you from, etc. Then she participates and does her best in the more advanced lesson. I recently found out that she wasn’t even able to finish the 6th grade. It has been YEARS since she has studied something, and that’s not something that comes back easily. I really admire her persistence, and just her interest in studying in the first place. It’s not like she’s bored with nothing to do. She works at 2 adjacent stores in the market that are open all day every day.

            Last week, Seng Heak really shone as an Awesome Person. I had come home late from exercising, and she had come super early. So I told Seng Heak to wait for me downstairs while I quick go take a bath. On the way to the bathroom, my super-pregnant host sister told me that she wasn’t going to study that night because she was having belly pains. I said that’s just fine, and told her to relax. Then I took my shower. When I got out, there was quite a scene. My sister’s bedroom door was wide open, and Seng Heak was upstairs, quickly and neatly throwing things in a travel bag and ordering my host sister to get dressed. Apparently in the time I was in the bathroom, it was decided that my sister needed to get to Phnom Penh THAT night, in case the baby was coming earlier than her husband’s planned trip to get her 2 days later. Well, Seng Heak completely took control of the whole operation. She packed the bags. She thought of all the things my sister might need to bring with her. She made 5 or 6 trips up and down the stairs carrying all of her things to Pollo’s car and packed it in the trunk (another example of Pollo being an awesome person). She helped my sister get dressed, and walked her down to the car. She calmed down my sister and spoke words of comfort. I was SO grateful for all that she did, because I admit I was freaking out a little bit. My sister did not look well and I was afraid the baby was gonna fall out right then and there. I was just looking on, completely helpless, unable to help in any way other than convincing her to sit in the front seat of the car because I know she get’s car sick super easy. Seng Heak was exactly the person who needed to be there in that moment, and she really stepped up. After all, it’s not like her and my sister were long-time friends. They only met through my class. But that’s something I love about my adult class- it gives me AND my sister friends in this village that we are technically both kind of new to.

            Seng Heak is tall for a Khmer woman, with a flat and kind of stern face that completely lights up when she smiles. I noticed that when she is thinking really hard about the lesson, she makes the same expression as I noticed her son making, which cracked me up. They both have a sort of vacant expression when they are thinking with their faces point slightly downward, their eyes wide and pointing slightly upward, and their jaw hanging gently with their lips parted. She is notably kind to EVERYONE, whether or not she knows who they are. She is easy to talk to, and not too shy to start up conversations with anyone. She’s funny, patient, and caring. And I am so glad I happened to find her phone shop.

The crazy mama chicken teaching her chicks to climb trees. Why are Prey Veng chickens so weird?

My role-playing students

Pictures from the first time I went to monkey island.

This guy was waiting for me at the entrance.

Hey look! a fat Buddha! That is not common in Cambodia.

HOTTuh!

We're practically neighbors.

Honors Society students participating in the international writing olympics.

NO CHEATING!

Why I Prefer the Village People

And this has nothing to do with the YMCA.

Obviously, my host family lives in a village. I live in a village. With my host family. I love my host family. I can talk for hours with my brother and sister about anything and everything. However, when my EXTENDED host family comes to visit, my comfort changes.

My host brother’s parents (thus making them my parents as well) grew up in the villages, but have lived in a beautiful apartment in Phnom Penh for a long time now. My father is a well-educated man with a decent grasp of the English language. He used to work in some sort of control tower, aiding the American Air Force. Also in their Phnom Penh Apartment lives 2 of my parents’ grandchildren, who are all grown up already. One of them is 24 and is married with 2 children. The other is maybe 20 years old and is a university student. The granddaughter and her husband are also very highly educated. She works in a bank in Phnom Penh, but I’m not sure what her husband does. They do very well for themselves, are very comfortable with English, and are able to cater to their childrens’ every desire (and I mean EVERY). The grandson also boasts good English and a top-notch, expensive education. Actually the only one who can’t speak English in this house is my mother. She just enjoys repeating the few words she hears over and over again, with nearly unreckognizable pronunciation. Anyway, this entire family really is a group of wonderful, intelligent, and generous people. They are welcoming and friendly and beautiful people.

But. (you knew there was a but).

Why do I find myself groaning when I hear their voices, indicating their arrival? It took me a few months, but I was finally able to put my finger on what was happening here.

I have found that when I talk to more well-off Khmer people (and this extends to beyond just my family), I get talked AT instead of talked to. The high-class Khmer’s are just as excited to talk to me as the villagers are, but for different reasons. Their interest in me as a foreigner is limited. After all, they’ve seen plenty of foreigners in Phnom Penh. Instead, it’s more like an opportunity to show off. Sometimes it’s simple, like they will announce every move I make and every thing I do in English, just to show they have the vocabulary. Sometimes it’s more complicated. They will sit me down and rattle on about stuff I already know. I’ve been lectured by well-off Khmer about my own country on numerous occasions. They’ll lecture me about history, health, culture, science, etc. But these are not conversations. I’m not allowed to add anything. My role is to sit and listen, and be amazed by the wisdom coming at me. It seems like they feel they need to prove that they can be better than a foreigner. And sometimes that comes in different ways than proving intelligence. Sometimes they boast to me about their riches and all the trinkets they can afford. The washing machine, the beautiful house, the toys from America, the designer clothes. Omg the CLOTHES. The 24 year old dresses so nice, just like you would expect a cute Asian city girl to. She’s got little sundresses, shorts and fancy blouses, and all kinds of other things. And that’s what she wears when she comes to visit in the village. It’s like she’s going against her own culture. Look around you, no one else is wearing shorts above the knee. But anyway, the only thing that bugs me about this is that I always get compared to her. The sentence usually goes “wow, she’s wearing foreign clothes and looks beautiful! Much more beautiful than the actual foreigner. Why doesn’t Diana dress like that? She doesn’t know how.”

So, to sum up that last paragraph, I often don’t enjoy quality time with rich Khmer folk. Actually, interestingly enough, my favorite person who lives in that house is their servant.

On the other hand, we have the village people. Village people want to talk WITH me. They want to talk about the weather, food, family matters, work, pop culture, politics, travel, etc. They want to have NORMAL conversations. They actually want to get to know me. AND they want me to get to know them. They want to talk about Cambodia and America and other countries. They want to tell me what they know, and hear what I know.

I guess I just connect better with village people. As crazy as it seems, maybe we have more in common in some ways. I’m just glad I have a good number of friends here who treat me like a real person. I can’t say that I really like being put down in order to make others feel better about themselves.

This blog seems very negative. I didn't mean that. Let me try to word this differently.

I love that I live and work here in this rural village.

A quick work update: summer classes are finished and went well, particularly my beginner and pre-intermediate class.

The last month or so, I’ve been spend hours and hours every day working in the library. Things are finally starting to come together there. Money has been spent. Books have been purchased. They are organized and in their shelves, waiting for the students to read them. But there’s still a lot to do. Library cards need to be created, the room needs to be furnished with tables and desks, and most importantly, staff needs to be trained on running the library.

Classes supposedly start on Tuesday. I don’t plan on starting until the following week. I want to let the teachers and students get settled in their classes before I figure out my own schedule. Also, I will need that time in the library.

Sorry for the sudden decrease in blog output. I mentioned the hours and hours I spent in the library. Well, It’s true. I've been soooo busy and completely immersed in this project. Even in my DREAMS I’m working in the library.

Cambodia doesn't have McDonalds or Burger King or any of those. Lucky Burger is as good as it gets. And after a while at site, it is BEYOND good.

One of these trees is my favorite. Can you guess which one?

sunset

I went away for a weekend, and this is what my floor looks like when I return. (Hint, that's rat poop)

You can kinda see in the distance the chaos that happens down the road at the factory when the girls arrive at work.

Cars lie in Cambodia. A lot.

spider.

Before the painting of the world map happened, I sat in my room with crayons and did this!

This.. was a good day.

Emily the Tukay Lizard. He's about a foot long, and lives with me in my bedroom.