Sunday, August 29, 2010
Death in the morning
If you are a regular reader of these blogs you will know that one of the things that puts me off living in Cambodia is the loud noise associated with weddings and funerals. Being here at this time of year is a conscious choice. It's the rainy season. Most weddings are held in the outdoors and people don't often get married in the rainy season. Unfortunately most people don't have the luxury of choosing the time of their death.
When I left for Phnom Penh last week I noticed the sounds of a funeral starting up and was pleased to be missing it. After I returned to Kompong Chhnang I noticed music was being played from loudspeakers across the road—another funeral—a few nights ago. It didn't go too late into the evening so I was quite pleased. This warning also meant I could be prepared for the morning. I had my iPod and headphones ready. I bought them specifically for this purpose. When the music started up again at 4 am I was ready. The music I was playing did not drown out the external noise. I didn't want to burst my eardrums so I put up with a little of their noise seeping in. But at least I had something else to concentrate on. It was bearable but only just. When the mournful howling songs started at 4.30 it was a bit much but I survived.
Later I was told the story of the death. My informant speaks only passable English so maybe I didn't get the details correct but here is the gist of the story.
The man concerned was a father of five. I don't know how old he was. He drove a remorque moto, a Cambodian form of public transport with a motorcycle pulling a box trailer. His route took him to another town in the direction of Phnom Penh.
Coming in the opposite direction in the early hours of the morning was a truck returning from delivering a load of contraband timber taken from a national park to Phnom Penh. Perhaps the driver had been driving through the night so as not to be seen with his illicit load and in the early hours of the morning he fell asleep at the wheel and veered across the road right into the remorque moto which was pulled over on the side of the road.
The moto driver and his son were on board and were both injured, the father seriously. An ambulance was called. And here my informant veered off into a side story of how a spotter's fee is paid to the person who calls an ambulance. Apparently the ambulance passenger is charged a large sum of money for the journey. But the father died soon after he arrived at the hospital in Phnom Penh. The family was expected to pay another fee to bring the body back to Kompong Chhnang otherwise the hospital would sell the body for use in scientific experiments to recoup the costs.
Apparently the family paid up so they did have a body to cremate. But it all sounded rather tragic and helped me to understand the mournful singing.
When I left for Phnom Penh last week I noticed the sounds of a funeral starting up and was pleased to be missing it. After I returned to Kompong Chhnang I noticed music was being played from loudspeakers across the road—another funeral—a few nights ago. It didn't go too late into the evening so I was quite pleased. This warning also meant I could be prepared for the morning. I had my iPod and headphones ready. I bought them specifically for this purpose. When the music started up again at 4 am I was ready. The music I was playing did not drown out the external noise. I didn't want to burst my eardrums so I put up with a little of their noise seeping in. But at least I had something else to concentrate on. It was bearable but only just. When the mournful howling songs started at 4.30 it was a bit much but I survived.
Later I was told the story of the death. My informant speaks only passable English so maybe I didn't get the details correct but here is the gist of the story.
The man concerned was a father of five. I don't know how old he was. He drove a remorque moto, a Cambodian form of public transport with a motorcycle pulling a box trailer. His route took him to another town in the direction of Phnom Penh.
Coming in the opposite direction in the early hours of the morning was a truck returning from delivering a load of contraband timber taken from a national park to Phnom Penh. Perhaps the driver had been driving through the night so as not to be seen with his illicit load and in the early hours of the morning he fell asleep at the wheel and veered across the road right into the remorque moto which was pulled over on the side of the road.
The moto driver and his son were on board and were both injured, the father seriously. An ambulance was called. And here my informant veered off into a side story of how a spotter's fee is paid to the person who calls an ambulance. Apparently the ambulance passenger is charged a large sum of money for the journey. But the father died soon after he arrived at the hospital in Phnom Penh. The family was expected to pay another fee to bring the body back to Kompong Chhnang otherwise the hospital would sell the body for use in scientific experiments to recoup the costs.
Apparently the family paid up so they did have a body to cremate. But it all sounded rather tragic and helped me to understand the mournful singing.
Labels: Asia, Cambodia, death, Kompong Chhnang, noise
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Profit making on the buses
I found my dentist. His surgery is in another part of town but still walkable from International Guest House. I had my first appointment with him on Monday morning. I need to return for root-canal treatment twice a week for about three weeks. He'll be working on the tooth next to the one that the dentist in Mahasarakham treated and crowning them both.
After my Monday morning appointment I took the bus to Kompong Chhnang. The KC bus service no longer operates. If you want to get a bus to KC now, you have to take one of the buses that goes to the towns beyond Kompong Chhnang. The Soriya Bus Service has made a few other changes too. I always wondered if the bus service made money. The bus was staffed by a driver and a conductor. Most people got on the bus at Phnom Penh (on the outward journey anyway) and paid at the bus station. So the conductor's main duty was to check your ticket as you got on the bus. They usually picked up one or two passengers along the 90 kilometre journey. But the conductor was hardly run off her feet.
In Thailand they have a similar system but the conductors who dress up like flight attendants serve you refreshments, such as they are. Even then I think they're superfluous.
I always wondered if Soriya trust their staff because once or twice along the way an inspector would get on to check the tickets. So there were a lot of people employed on those buses.
But this has all changed. We no longer have the little school-bus sized vehicle on the KC run. We get a real bus with comfortable full-size seats. I bought my ticket at the counter in Phnom Penh and showed it to the conductor who left the bus before it left the terminus. There were no ticket inspections. I had a comfortable ride and arrived in KC just before a mother of a storm hit.
I headed for Holiday Guesthouse but it's not there anymore. Never mind, they still have rooms and are happy to accommodate an old friend.
I've been enjoying the smiles of my friends for a couple of days and today returned to PP so I can make my 9 am appointment tomorrow with Dr Chum. The first bus that came along this morning was a GST Express. I waved, it stopped so I got on. It did have a conductor who showed me my seat and then disappeared for five minutes. When he returned he gave me a crumpled ticket and asked for $3. That's 50 cents more than Soriya charged to get me there.
Somehow I thought the ticket looked a bit sus. I was hoping an inspector would not come on board or one of us would have some explaining to do. When I got to PP I checked the ticket. It was dated 23 August. (Today is August 25.)
After my Monday morning appointment I took the bus to Kompong Chhnang. The KC bus service no longer operates. If you want to get a bus to KC now, you have to take one of the buses that goes to the towns beyond Kompong Chhnang. The Soriya Bus Service has made a few other changes too. I always wondered if the bus service made money. The bus was staffed by a driver and a conductor. Most people got on the bus at Phnom Penh (on the outward journey anyway) and paid at the bus station. So the conductor's main duty was to check your ticket as you got on the bus. They usually picked up one or two passengers along the 90 kilometre journey. But the conductor was hardly run off her feet.
In Thailand they have a similar system but the conductors who dress up like flight attendants serve you refreshments, such as they are. Even then I think they're superfluous.
I always wondered if Soriya trust their staff because once or twice along the way an inspector would get on to check the tickets. So there were a lot of people employed on those buses.
But this has all changed. We no longer have the little school-bus sized vehicle on the KC run. We get a real bus with comfortable full-size seats. I bought my ticket at the counter in Phnom Penh and showed it to the conductor who left the bus before it left the terminus. There were no ticket inspections. I had a comfortable ride and arrived in KC just before a mother of a storm hit.
I headed for Holiday Guesthouse but it's not there anymore. Never mind, they still have rooms and are happy to accommodate an old friend.
I've been enjoying the smiles of my friends for a couple of days and today returned to PP so I can make my 9 am appointment tomorrow with Dr Chum. The first bus that came along this morning was a GST Express. I waved, it stopped so I got on. It did have a conductor who showed me my seat and then disappeared for five minutes. When he returned he gave me a crumpled ticket and asked for $3. That's 50 cents more than Soriya charged to get me there.
Somehow I thought the ticket looked a bit sus. I was hoping an inspector would not come on board or one of us would have some explaining to do. When I got to PP I checked the ticket. It was dated 23 August. (Today is August 25.)
Labels: Asia, Cambodia, Kompong Chhnang, Phnom Penh, travel
Friday, August 28, 2009
Dad's advice for buying a camera 2
Hi Dad,
Am thinking that you brought up a few valid points and I figure that I don't really need an SLR. So down to that do you have any advice? What size zoom would you think is useful to have? Basically want good snapshots at the end of the day but a camera that can play around with to get better shots. Sometimes we want to take pictures to use for a poster or flyers for things, otherwise something I can use to take nice photo's.
Love Mel
Hi Mel
First I'll give you two links to my blogs where I wrote about my cameras. This will give you an idea about why I have what I have:
Why two cameras?
Camera comparison
What size zoom depends on what you want to photograph. 3 x zoom is very common and for everyday photography it's usually fine. Sometimes I like to photograph wildlife. If you get too close then it moves away so my 12 x zoom on the fz20 is good. When there was a monkey on the roof of the house next door at Kompong Chhnang I could get a pic of just the monkey. (BTW, I have not cropped this pic.) With 3 x I would get the whole roof and would hardly see the monkey. If you want to take a pic of Iz or Hamad on the other side of the soccer field, you'll need a good zoom to take that pic. However you'll also need a camera good for action pics if you want to get them while they're moving. It can be a challenge to do that especially with full zoom. 5 x to 10 x is somewhere in between. That might suit you depends on how important those soccer shots are to you. You can also get more powerful zooms these days. Panasonic have one that does 18 x. I asked a guy who had one about it and he was pretty happy. Other manufacturers are bringing out cameras to compete with this. Not sure how good they are. The Panasonic Lumix lens has a good reputation. Read the reviews before you make a decision.
Here's an example of the sort of long-distance action you can get with an fz20. I took this at Scarborough back when I was last in Oz. BTW, someone once said to me that to get a lens on an SLR that does what I can do with my fz20, it would have to be about 45cm long. Another BTW, if you click on these pics you'll see a larger version.
OK. Some general info. If you go to my flickr page and take a look at my pics, see if you can see the difference between the pics done on the fx3 and fz20 and which do you prefer. I put that info into the tags at the side of each pic. You have to click on the pic to see it. You might think the fx3 is just as good but consider that in relation to what I have written in the blog—fx3 has its limitations. They may or may not be important to you. But if you want to take better shots you will probably want a camera with more features. BTW, fx3 and fz20 will have been superseded several times. The current models will have different names. Last time I checked the latest version of the fz20 was fz50. Not sure if it still is. It has a few more features and other improvements over mine. I like the way the LCD screen tilts so you don't always have to hold the camera up to your face. You can hold it at waist level or hold it over your head—and still see the LCD.
If somehow I lost both of my cameras I wonder what I would buy now. Rather than buy two cameras I could get a compromise, a camera that is fairly compact but has a lot of features. Canon have one called the G10. The Canon G series have a good reputation but these days other manufacturers are bringing out good cameras like it. Read some reviews and see if it does what you want. Some of the reviews will also mention other cameras to compare it with. Check out their reviews too.
There are two websites that have good reviews that I recommend:
dpreview
Steves Digicams
Read a few reviews and see if you can get more idea of what you want from that. Also on these sites are user forums. I followed the Panasonic forums for about 18 months on Steves before I bought the fz20. People tell you what they like and don't like about their cameras. It is a good way to discover which camera to not buy. You can also join and ask questions yourself. If you have narrowed it down and you are not sure, you can ask people who use the camera, eg. 'Is this a good action camera? Is it good for night shots?'. They'll tell you.
One other thing to remember is that you can have the best camera in the world but if you don't have an artistic eye you'll still take lousy shots. You need to learn a bit about framing your shots. It could be worth visiting the library and borrowing a few photography 'how to' books.
OK, that's it for now. Feel free to send more questions.
BTW, I'll expect to see lots of pics of the new baby on facebook.
love
Dad
Am thinking that you brought up a few valid points and I figure that I don't really need an SLR. So down to that do you have any advice? What size zoom would you think is useful to have? Basically want good snapshots at the end of the day but a camera that can play around with to get better shots. Sometimes we want to take pictures to use for a poster or flyers for things, otherwise something I can use to take nice photo's.
Love Mel
Hi Mel
First I'll give you two links to my blogs where I wrote about my cameras. This will give you an idea about why I have what I have:
Why two cameras?
Camera comparison
What size zoom depends on what you want to photograph. 3 x zoom is very common and for everyday photography it's usually fine. Sometimes I like to photograph wildlife. If you get too close then it moves away so my 12 x zoom on the fz20 is good. When there was a monkey on the roof of the house next door at Kompong Chhnang I could get a pic of just the monkey. (BTW, I have not cropped this pic.) With 3 x I would get the whole roof and would hardly see the monkey. If you want to take a pic of Iz or Hamad on the other side of the soccer field, you'll need a good zoom to take that pic. However you'll also need a camera good for action pics if you want to get them while they're moving. It can be a challenge to do that especially with full zoom. 5 x to 10 x is somewhere in between. That might suit you depends on how important those soccer shots are to you. You can also get more powerful zooms these days. Panasonic have one that does 18 x. I asked a guy who had one about it and he was pretty happy. Other manufacturers are bringing out cameras to compete with this. Not sure how good they are. The Panasonic Lumix lens has a good reputation. Read the reviews before you make a decision.
Here's an example of the sort of long-distance action you can get with an fz20. I took this at Scarborough back when I was last in Oz. BTW, someone once said to me that to get a lens on an SLR that does what I can do with my fz20, it would have to be about 45cm long. Another BTW, if you click on these pics you'll see a larger version.OK. Some general info. If you go to my flickr page and take a look at my pics, see if you can see the difference between the pics done on the fx3 and fz20 and which do you prefer. I put that info into the tags at the side of each pic. You have to click on the pic to see it. You might think the fx3 is just as good but consider that in relation to what I have written in the blog—fx3 has its limitations. They may or may not be important to you. But if you want to take better shots you will probably want a camera with more features. BTW, fx3 and fz20 will have been superseded several times. The current models will have different names. Last time I checked the latest version of the fz20 was fz50. Not sure if it still is. It has a few more features and other improvements over mine. I like the way the LCD screen tilts so you don't always have to hold the camera up to your face. You can hold it at waist level or hold it over your head—and still see the LCD.
If somehow I lost both of my cameras I wonder what I would buy now. Rather than buy two cameras I could get a compromise, a camera that is fairly compact but has a lot of features. Canon have one called the G10. The Canon G series have a good reputation but these days other manufacturers are bringing out good cameras like it. Read some reviews and see if it does what you want. Some of the reviews will also mention other cameras to compare it with. Check out their reviews too.
There are two websites that have good reviews that I recommend:
dpreview
Steves Digicams
Read a few reviews and see if you can get more idea of what you want from that. Also on these sites are user forums. I followed the Panasonic forums for about 18 months on Steves before I bought the fz20. People tell you what they like and don't like about their cameras. It is a good way to discover which camera to not buy. You can also join and ask questions yourself. If you have narrowed it down and you are not sure, you can ask people who use the camera, eg. 'Is this a good action camera? Is it good for night shots?'. They'll tell you.
One other thing to remember is that you can have the best camera in the world but if you don't have an artistic eye you'll still take lousy shots. You need to learn a bit about framing your shots. It could be worth visiting the library and borrowing a few photography 'how to' books.
OK, that's it for now. Feel free to send more questions.
BTW, I'll expect to see lots of pics of the new baby on facebook.
love
Dad
Labels: camera, family, flickr, fx3, fz20, Kompong Chhnang, Lumix, Panasonic, photography
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Why I left Cambodia
There are many things I like about Cambodia. I find the people generally to be a delight and in many ways the lifestyle is pleasant for me. There is good and bad everywhere. I accept that nothing is perfect. If one can find a balance then one can put up with the unpleasant aspects of life. If the negative side of life becomes too much, it is necessary to come to terms with it or move on. I don't believe in staying in a situation in which I am unhappy.
I had a rough plan to stay for three months and to reassess my situation. During those three months it never occurred to me that I would not stay. I was generally quite happy with my life in Kompong Chhnang. I had good friends, a simple but pleasant lifestyle, I was learning the language and gaining the ability to communicate with a wider group of people. But after the third month passed my attitude changed.
I have written here before about my aversion to the extreme noise that accompanies any celebration such as wedding, funeral or festival in Cambodia. This noise includes music, speeches and chanting monks broadcast from huge loudspeakers in the open. During those first three months this was fairly occasional and not too close to my home to be a problem.
About this time, I was woken one morning at 4 am by extremely loud noises. They were coming from the house right behind me. Apparently a man from this house had died. As he was relatively wealthy it was considered appropriate to hold a big funeral. It lasted on and off for seven days.
As a storyteller I learned many years ago of the power of a microphone. The first time I was given one I discovered that it saved my voice. I could whisper and still be heard. Most of those giving speeches at this funeral didn't seem to have learned this. I realized this when, in contrast, one man actually knew how to use a microphone. He spoke calmly and quietly and even though I could not understand him and it was broadcast at a loud volume it was not unpleasant. The speakers who preceded and followed him had no idea of this. It seemed that they felt the need to shout into the microphone. I found it most unpleasant.
I kept telling myself that it would end and eventually it did. But after that every time I was woken by yet another celebration at 4 am I became quite annoyed. This was the dry season. People may not choose when they die but they choose to hold weddings and other festivities at this time of the year. It was a regular occurrence.
If I got through the night without being woken I would wake up happy and I would have a pleasant day. If I went two days like this I would be content again and want to stay there as long as I could. But if I was woken the next day I would start thinking again that it was time to leave.
I know that this is my issue. I am not blaming the Cambodian people. This is what Cambodia is like. Cambodians don't find it offensive. If I want to live there, I have to learn to cope with it.
I like to think that I am in control of my own happiness, that happiness is a matter of telling myself to be happy, to put a positive view on things. But I couldn't do it. Whenever the day started with the loud music I would have a bad day. Eventually I decided that I was in control but I had to take control by moving on and that's what I've done.
I came to Bangkok about two weeks ago without knowing what I was going to do. I could be happy to live in Thailand but unlike Cambodia, there are lots of hoops to jump through to get a long-term visa. I started to look more closely at the options. I am entitled to apply for a retirement visa and if I stay here with one I would want to study Thai language just as I studied Khmer in Cambodia. I have discovered that if I enrol for a full-year Thai-language course I can apply for an education visa which is simpler. I am now working through that process. I'll let you know what develops.
I had a rough plan to stay for three months and to reassess my situation. During those three months it never occurred to me that I would not stay. I was generally quite happy with my life in Kompong Chhnang. I had good friends, a simple but pleasant lifestyle, I was learning the language and gaining the ability to communicate with a wider group of people. But after the third month passed my attitude changed.
I have written here before about my aversion to the extreme noise that accompanies any celebration such as wedding, funeral or festival in Cambodia. This noise includes music, speeches and chanting monks broadcast from huge loudspeakers in the open. During those first three months this was fairly occasional and not too close to my home to be a problem.
About this time, I was woken one morning at 4 am by extremely loud noises. They were coming from the house right behind me. Apparently a man from this house had died. As he was relatively wealthy it was considered appropriate to hold a big funeral. It lasted on and off for seven days.
As a storyteller I learned many years ago of the power of a microphone. The first time I was given one I discovered that it saved my voice. I could whisper and still be heard. Most of those giving speeches at this funeral didn't seem to have learned this. I realized this when, in contrast, one man actually knew how to use a microphone. He spoke calmly and quietly and even though I could not understand him and it was broadcast at a loud volume it was not unpleasant. The speakers who preceded and followed him had no idea of this. It seemed that they felt the need to shout into the microphone. I found it most unpleasant.
I kept telling myself that it would end and eventually it did. But after that every time I was woken by yet another celebration at 4 am I became quite annoyed. This was the dry season. People may not choose when they die but they choose to hold weddings and other festivities at this time of the year. It was a regular occurrence.
If I got through the night without being woken I would wake up happy and I would have a pleasant day. If I went two days like this I would be content again and want to stay there as long as I could. But if I was woken the next day I would start thinking again that it was time to leave.
I know that this is my issue. I am not blaming the Cambodian people. This is what Cambodia is like. Cambodians don't find it offensive. If I want to live there, I have to learn to cope with it.
I like to think that I am in control of my own happiness, that happiness is a matter of telling myself to be happy, to put a positive view on things. But I couldn't do it. Whenever the day started with the loud music I would have a bad day. Eventually I decided that I was in control but I had to take control by moving on and that's what I've done.
I came to Bangkok about two weeks ago without knowing what I was going to do. I could be happy to live in Thailand but unlike Cambodia, there are lots of hoops to jump through to get a long-term visa. I started to look more closely at the options. I am entitled to apply for a retirement visa and if I stay here with one I would want to study Thai language just as I studied Khmer in Cambodia. I have discovered that if I enrol for a full-year Thai-language course I can apply for an education visa which is simpler. I am now working through that process. I'll let you know what develops.
Labels: Asia, Cambodia, Kompong Chhnang, noise, thailand
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Village kids
I recently had a visitor to my home in Kompong Chhnang, a young Australian woman named Sarah. She only stayed for a few days but I certainly enjoyed having her company and showing her around some of the Kompong Chhnang villages.
At one village we stopped to visit a temple and chatted to the monks. There was a school attached to the temple and as we were leaving the school was breaking for lunch. There were a few kids standing outside the sala staring at us.
They looked pretty cute so I decided to take their photograph. In no time at all there were many smiling faces and more coming. It seemed everyone wanted to see the foreigners and get into their picture. 
As we left they walked with us until they reached their homes—homes like these.
It was just before Christmas when we were there and it occurred to me that these kids make a lie of the myths we in the West grow up with. I was always told that Santa comes to all good kids all over the world. Somehow I don't think these are bad kids but I doubt that any of them have a clue who Santa Claus is. They won't have received even one toy on Christmas day. I doubt that they'll see as many toys in their lifetime as most Australian kids received on that one day.
I don't write this to gain your sympathy—not because of the lack of toys anyway—these kids are generally pretty happy and don't miss what they don't know. They are delightfully friendly, as you can see.
Sadly, they lack a quality education and for most there are no great prospects for the future. Hopefully they can retain their smiles despite this.
At one village we stopped to visit a temple and chatted to the monks. There was a school attached to the temple and as we were leaving the school was breaking for lunch. There were a few kids standing outside the sala staring at us.
They looked pretty cute so I decided to take their photograph. In no time at all there were many smiling faces and more coming. It seemed everyone wanted to see the foreigners and get into their picture. 
As we left they walked with us until they reached their homes—homes like these.
It was just before Christmas when we were there and it occurred to me that these kids make a lie of the myths we in the West grow up with. I was always told that Santa comes to all good kids all over the world. Somehow I don't think these are bad kids but I doubt that any of them have a clue who Santa Claus is. They won't have received even one toy on Christmas day. I doubt that they'll see as many toys in their lifetime as most Australian kids received on that one day.
I don't write this to gain your sympathy—not because of the lack of toys anyway—these kids are generally pretty happy and don't miss what they don't know. They are delightfully friendly, as you can see.
Sadly, they lack a quality education and for most there are no great prospects for the future. Hopefully they can retain their smiles despite this.
Labels: Asia, Cambodia, housing, Kompong Chhnang, poverty
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Of water and dogs
My water pump was playing up. I hadn't got any water for two days. So the landlord sent his son over to see if he could fix it. The little daughter came too. She likes to play with my dog, Dingo, and Dingo likes her. After an hour or so the son had not achieved anything so the landlord himself came and spent a few hours. He didn't say anything when he left but when I tried the pump I got nothing. I left a message for him the next morning. Three o'clock a phone call interrupted my Khmer lesson. They were waiting at my place. I had to cut my lesson short to go home and let them in. I wasn't happy but I need the water. Over the next few hours half the family came and dug up the whole pipe system, replaced most of it and left just before dark. The water was murky but at least there was a good flow. Hopefully it will clear up in a few days.
That night after dinner I put some food out for Dingo. She wasn't interested in even looking at it. This is most unlike her. She is always very enthusiastic about food. I thought perhaps the daughter had been feeding her again and she just wasn't hungry. But to be honest she's never not hungry. She might leave boring food but she'll always take a look first. This night she wasn't even interested in looking.
The next day she still wasn't eating. She was also vomiting, just water and mucus. I could see she was sick but I didn't know what to do. There are people here who practise as vets but who knows what qualifications they have?
The following day she was still not eating and seemed a bit weak. She had definitely lost weight. That morning at the market I mentioned this to the landlord's niece. She said her uncle would come and bring some medicine. That afternoon Vana turned up. His advice was to either take her to the 'vet' or give her some paracetamol. The landlord and niece turned up then and offered the same advice. He loaned us his motorcycle and Vana took me and Dingo to the 'vet' who gave her a couple of injections and said to spoon-feed her some milk and sugar. He also gave us some medicine to give her an hour after that.
We took her back home. After we'd fed her I said to Vana that I didn't think she'd last. She was breathing but seemed to have no life left in her. Vana went home and I went inside to do some chores. When I came out an hour later Dingo was dead.
The next morning at the market I told the niece. She asked did I want her uncle to find me another dog. I said not at the moment, I'd think about it for a while. I also added that I was thinking of getting a python. I was only half joking. Dingo was not a scary dog. If someone came to rob the place she'd welcome them with a wagging tail. In Cambodia it seems that just about everyone is scared of snakes. A sign on the gate saying 'Beware of python' (in Khmer) might be a better deterrent than a dog. I'd like to know how much trouble one would be to care for. I'm quite comfortable with pythons.
That night I was in the shower when I heard the landlord's voice at my gate. He was there with his niece and they had disregarded what I'd said about not wanting another dog. Or maybe they were worried that I was serious about the python.
So, now I have this fluffy little thing, younger than Dingo was when I got her. I gave her a Khmer name 'K'mao'. Can you guess what it means?
That night after dinner I put some food out for Dingo. She wasn't interested in even looking at it. This is most unlike her. She is always very enthusiastic about food. I thought perhaps the daughter had been feeding her again and she just wasn't hungry. But to be honest she's never not hungry. She might leave boring food but she'll always take a look first. This night she wasn't even interested in looking.
The next day she still wasn't eating. She was also vomiting, just water and mucus. I could see she was sick but I didn't know what to do. There are people here who practise as vets but who knows what qualifications they have?
The following day she was still not eating and seemed a bit weak. She had definitely lost weight. That morning at the market I mentioned this to the landlord's niece. She said her uncle would come and bring some medicine. That afternoon Vana turned up. His advice was to either take her to the 'vet' or give her some paracetamol. The landlord and niece turned up then and offered the same advice. He loaned us his motorcycle and Vana took me and Dingo to the 'vet' who gave her a couple of injections and said to spoon-feed her some milk and sugar. He also gave us some medicine to give her an hour after that.
We took her back home. After we'd fed her I said to Vana that I didn't think she'd last. She was breathing but seemed to have no life left in her. Vana went home and I went inside to do some chores. When I came out an hour later Dingo was dead.
The next morning at the market I told the niece. She asked did I want her uncle to find me another dog. I said not at the moment, I'd think about it for a while. I also added that I was thinking of getting a python. I was only half joking. Dingo was not a scary dog. If someone came to rob the place she'd welcome them with a wagging tail. In Cambodia it seems that just about everyone is scared of snakes. A sign on the gate saying 'Beware of python' (in Khmer) might be a better deterrent than a dog. I'd like to know how much trouble one would be to care for. I'm quite comfortable with pythons.
That night I was in the shower when I heard the landlord's voice at my gate. He was there with his niece and they had disregarded what I'd said about not wanting another dog. Or maybe they were worried that I was serious about the python. So, now I have this fluffy little thing, younger than Dingo was when I got her. I gave her a Khmer name 'K'mao'. Can you guess what it means?
Labels: Asia, Cambodia, Kompong Chhnang
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Ashamed
The most readily available meat here is pork. It is not sold under hygienic conditions. There is no refrigeration. Meat sits or perhaps hangs in the open on a market stall in the heat and humidity. The ground below can be pretty disgusting at times and I've seen meat that falls from the bench picked up again and put back. The person who buys it won't know. The seller usually sits crossed-legged on the bench, her feet very close to the meat she will sell for your dinner. The pigs here are bred to be fat. People here appear to be blissfully unaware of the dangers of eating this.Having lived as a vegetarian for many years it is not difficult for me to bypass pork. I get my protein from either fish or tofu. There are perhaps hygiene issues with both of these too but I see them as lesser evils.
I am aware that my dog needs raw bones to chew on to provide calcium and to keep her teeth in good condition. However, I found that with pork bones she was constantly having trouble with worms. Now she too gets most of her protein from fish.
When I eat fish I buy a slightly bigger piece so there is some left for her. I usually buy one of the more expensive varieties. Perhaps it is a little extravagant for her but is still usually works out at less than $2 for both of us. On the days that I'm not eating fish I buy some of the smaller, cheaper ones for her.
The first day I experimented with this I approached a stall. There was a young woman with three kids selling fish similar to what we in Australia call bream but only about five centimetres long. The oldest child, a boy of about eight, was busy gutting and beheading the fish. There was also a little girl and a baby.
I asked the price. It was quite cheap so I ordered a suitable amount. As she handed them to me she asked, in Khmer, if I would use them to make soup. (People are always interested in what you are eating and how you are going to cook it.) 'No,' I said. 'They're for my dog.' She looked quite shocked. I understood. To her this is probably about as good as she can offer her kids and I'm feeding it to my dog.
Later that day I was having my Khmer lesson. Even though I pay Esther to teach me Khmer I'm teaching her a lot of English on an incidental basis. Khmers seem to have difficulty understanding the difference between 'shy' and 'ashamed'. I was trying to explain this to Esther. My mind was seeking a story to explain 'ashamed' when the little episode at the market that morning came into my head. I told her the story and ended with 'I am ashamed because my dog eats better than many Cambodian children.'
Labels: Asia, Cambodia, Kompong Chhnang, market
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
Running water
I've been in my house for close to two months now. Perhaps it's time I told a little about it. This is a traditional Cambodian timber house. Basically there are three types of house here. Ones like mine are quite common. Many people live in simpler homes built with a timber frame and palm leaf walls. Their walls need to be replaced periodically. If the family is poor, which is often the case, such walls become well ventilated. The non-traditional homes that many aspire to are made from bricks with a concrete facing.The house I have now is similar to the one I had last year only smaller. It has two upstairs rooms. One is about six metres square. The smaller is about 3 x 2.6 metres. This is a high-set house similar to the Queensland style. Under the house is mostly open but with one brick-walled room. In this particular house, I suspect it will flood a little in the rainy season. I use it to store my bicycle. I have a verandah on one-and-a-half sides.
There is no internal lining on either the walls or ceiling nor is there glass or screens in the windows, just bars and shutters. This is a very basic home. I like to think I live Khmer style but the reality is that in this house in which I live alone there would normally be about ten Khmers. I recently visited my landlord's home, bigger than mine, and there are 23 people living there.
My house last year had no running water at all. Water was collected from the roof in the rainy season and pumped from underground during the dry season. This house has no way of collecting water from the roof. Before I moved in there was no water what-so-ever. Nor was there a bathroom of any sort. The owner put in both for me.
He didn't consult with me first and put the bathroom in the far corner of the backyard. When I talked to my friend, Vana, about this he said that Khmer people like their toilets to be as far from the house as possible. Strangely, when they advance to an indoor toilet they often put it in the corner of the kitchen???
To bathe I have a similar setup to what I had last year. A big tub holds water and you splash it over your body to get wet, soap up and splash water again to wash the soap off. My friends in Australia with water shortages could learn a lot from my Asian friends about saving water.
The owner also put in a water pump for me. There is no such thing as town water. The water is pumped from under the ground. About once a week I need to run the pump to top up the water in my tub. I also asked him to have a pipe run to the upstairs verandah so I could have water available there.
I pump it into a bin and have to collect it from there but at least it's right outside the door from the corner of the main room that I use as a kitchen. That's my version of running water. The red bucket in the picture is my washing machine.Initially I started with both electric and hand water-pumps. They were in the open next to the bathroom. I hadn't been here long when someone climbed the 2.6 metre brick fence during the night and carried off the hand pump. I didn't hear anything.
There are a few results from this incident. I have another new electric pump installed in the room under the house. Razor wire has been put along the top of the two most vulnerable fence walls.
And I now have a dog. Australian readers shouldn't need three guesses to know what I have called her.Labels: Asia, Cambodia, housing, Kompong Chhnang
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Fly-tipping
'...at the bottom of the cliff there was another pile of garbage. And we decided that one big pile is better than two little piles, and rather than bring that one up we decided to throw ours down.'
from Alice's Restaurant by Arlo Guthrie
©1966, 1967 (Renewed) by Appleseed Music Inc. All Rights Reserved.
Fly-tipping is an English expression that, to my knowledge, has not yet reached Australia. Wikipedia defines it as: '...illegally dumping waste somewhere other than an authorized landfill. It is the illegal deposit of any waste onto land, i.e., waste dumped or tipped on a site with no licence to accept waste.'
I first heard the expression when a photo on one of my flickr pages (see link on sidebar) was invited to be placed in a group for photos of fly-tipping. Returning to Cambodia, I felt the streets of Phnom Penh were a wonderful resource for photos for the group. I took a few shots and offered them to the group. A group administrator replied: 'This is not exactly flytipping. This is a market. This kind of rubbish is regularly collected and it is piled up in that agreed expectation. Yes it looks untidy but there's a civil contract here between those who pile up the rubbish and those who collect it. Not flytippng! '
I would like to clarify the situation regarding litter in Cambodia as I see it. I'm not sure what the legal situation is but if there are laws against littering or the dumping of rubbish they do not appear to be enforced. It seems to me that in the minds of most Cambodians, any public place is a suitable place to dispose of one's waste. Bins are a rarity. Who needs them? The street is the appropriate place to drop your rubbish. Don't carry it anywhere. Leave it right where you are.
This is not a market area. This is a tourist area. This is what the streets of Phnom Penh look like. Someone starts the pile and others add to it. I took the photo in the early afternoon. The pile will probably continue to grow until it's collected, perhaps during the night.
When I first visited Phnom Penh I thought that no one ever swept the footpaths. I was wrong. One morning I had reason to walk the streets early in the morning and saw many storekeepers sweeping in front of their shops. It didn't make a lot of difference. Within a few hours the paths were as littered as they were the day before.
In Kompong Chhnang it is no different. When I first visited I soon made a few friends. I had bought some food that came in a wrapper. After I'd been carrying the wrapper for a few blocks looking for a bin, one of my friends took it from me and dropped it on the ground. Another group of friends took me climbing a local mountain and they packed lunch. All the wrappings were left behind on the mountain.
Yes, there is some sort of garbage collection from the streets of Phnom Penh and from the market area of Kompong Chhnang but I never see either place looking particularly clean or tidy. There is no home garbage collection here in Kompong Chhnang. People either bury or burn it, or dump it in the street.
I try to dispose of my waste responsibly. It does take a little effort and care. Organic matter I bury in an area I've designated as a future garden. I had considered making a compost bin but figured it would take too long for me to fill it by myself. I also have a dog that eats some of my food scraps. The future garden is below my side verandah and convenient for disposal of water from washing so anything I plant should grow. Any plastic materials that can be recycled I leave outside my gate. There are scavengers who collect it to sell. It doesn't stay for long. Other plastics, such as bags, I bury which I assume is more environmentally friendly than burning. Please tell me if I'm wrong. As much as possible I try to reuse bags and discourage the market vendors from giving me fresh ones. When shopping I try not to buy goods with excessive packaging but even in Cambodia that is difficult.
When I talk to people about littering they ask why it matters. I point out that rubbish heaps encourage rodents and cockroaches that spread diseases. However, I must say that I see more cockroaches in homes in Brisbane than in Cambodia despite Brisbane's cleanliness and pesticide use.
Will the situation ever change? I really don't know. I try not to lecture people too much preferring to practise 'be the change you want to see'.
from Alice's Restaurant by Arlo Guthrie
©1966, 1967 (Renewed) by Appleseed Music Inc. All Rights Reserved.
Fly-tipping is an English expression that, to my knowledge, has not yet reached Australia. Wikipedia defines it as: '...illegally dumping waste somewhere other than an authorized landfill. It is the illegal deposit of any waste onto land, i.e., waste dumped or tipped on a site with no licence to accept waste.'
I first heard the expression when a photo on one of my flickr pages (see link on sidebar) was invited to be placed in a group for photos of fly-tipping. Returning to Cambodia, I felt the streets of Phnom Penh were a wonderful resource for photos for the group. I took a few shots and offered them to the group. A group administrator replied: 'This is not exactly flytipping. This is a market. This kind of rubbish is regularly collected and it is piled up in that agreed expectation. Yes it looks untidy but there's a civil contract here between those who pile up the rubbish and those who collect it. Not flytippng! '
I would like to clarify the situation regarding litter in Cambodia as I see it. I'm not sure what the legal situation is but if there are laws against littering or the dumping of rubbish they do not appear to be enforced. It seems to me that in the minds of most Cambodians, any public place is a suitable place to dispose of one's waste. Bins are a rarity. Who needs them? The street is the appropriate place to drop your rubbish. Don't carry it anywhere. Leave it right where you are.
This is not a market area. This is a tourist area. This is what the streets of Phnom Penh look like. Someone starts the pile and others add to it. I took the photo in the early afternoon. The pile will probably continue to grow until it's collected, perhaps during the night.When I first visited Phnom Penh I thought that no one ever swept the footpaths. I was wrong. One morning I had reason to walk the streets early in the morning and saw many storekeepers sweeping in front of their shops. It didn't make a lot of difference. Within a few hours the paths were as littered as they were the day before.
In Kompong Chhnang it is no different. When I first visited I soon made a few friends. I had bought some food that came in a wrapper. After I'd been carrying the wrapper for a few blocks looking for a bin, one of my friends took it from me and dropped it on the ground. Another group of friends took me climbing a local mountain and they packed lunch. All the wrappings were left behind on the mountain.
Yes, there is some sort of garbage collection from the streets of Phnom Penh and from the market area of Kompong Chhnang but I never see either place looking particularly clean or tidy. There is no home garbage collection here in Kompong Chhnang. People either bury or burn it, or dump it in the street.
I try to dispose of my waste responsibly. It does take a little effort and care. Organic matter I bury in an area I've designated as a future garden. I had considered making a compost bin but figured it would take too long for me to fill it by myself. I also have a dog that eats some of my food scraps. The future garden is below my side verandah and convenient for disposal of water from washing so anything I plant should grow. Any plastic materials that can be recycled I leave outside my gate. There are scavengers who collect it to sell. It doesn't stay for long. Other plastics, such as bags, I bury which I assume is more environmentally friendly than burning. Please tell me if I'm wrong. As much as possible I try to reuse bags and discourage the market vendors from giving me fresh ones. When shopping I try not to buy goods with excessive packaging but even in Cambodia that is difficult.
When I talk to people about littering they ask why it matters. I point out that rubbish heaps encourage rodents and cockroaches that spread diseases. However, I must say that I see more cockroaches in homes in Brisbane than in Cambodia despite Brisbane's cleanliness and pesticide use.
Will the situation ever change? I really don't know. I try not to lecture people too much preferring to practise 'be the change you want to see'.
Labels: appearance, Asia, Cambodia, Kompong Chhnang, Phnom Penh, photography
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
My new home
Today I moved into a house where I hope to spend some time—not sure how long. It's not my habit to stay long anywhere but let's see what develops. I have made some sort of commitment, I've paid three months rent in advance. But then, three months rent in Kompong Chhnang is roughly equal to what I might pay for one week in Brisbane at the lower end of the market.
This is a little smaller than the house I had in the next village last year. I am no longer surrounded by a permaculture forest. Hopefully this also means I'll have fewer mosquitos. This village is closer to the centre of town which makes for less exercise getting to and from the market. I'm also closer to some of my friends and my Khmer language teacher.
I've taken no photos yet. Not sure when I will because I have to go to Phnom Penh soon to renew my visa. Watch this space. Perhaps I'll add little snippets on the house over time that will build into a bigger picture.
This is a little smaller than the house I had in the next village last year. I am no longer surrounded by a permaculture forest. Hopefully this also means I'll have fewer mosquitos. This village is closer to the centre of town which makes for less exercise getting to and from the market. I'm also closer to some of my friends and my Khmer language teacher.
I've taken no photos yet. Not sure when I will because I have to go to Phnom Penh soon to renew my visa. Watch this space. Perhaps I'll add little snippets on the house over time that will build into a bigger picture.
Labels: Asia, Cambodia, housing, Kompong Chhnang
Friday, November 02, 2007
Dirty trousers
A few days ago I needed to go to Phnom Penh. When I was last at the bus station I checked on the times the buses were scheduled to leave. Even though I knew they didn't leave exactly to schedule I figured it would give me a chance of catching one without waiting too long.
I chose to take the 7.45 am bus. My guesthouse is on the highway only a few minutes drive from the bus station so I went outside to wait at 7.45. At 8.00 am, someone gave me a chair to sit on. At about 8.40 a friend came along in his car. My friend is moderately wealthy. His car is a 15+ year old Camry. To own such a car as this in Cambodia indicates some level of wealth. He needed to go to Phnom Penh for a job interview and told me he would be glad to have some company for the journey. We left at about 8.45 and the bus still hadn't shown.
My friend was applying for a well-paid (by Cambodian standards) job as an interpreter with a local NGO. He'd been through the initial interviews, had passed the medical and now had to meet the CEO who happens to be an Australian. Get through this one and he was in.
We chatted as we headed along the highway. As I looked over to him I noticed that he had put on a good clean shirt, had on his best shoes, but his trousers, they were a fairly casual style and looked like they needed to be put into the washing machine. Yes, unlike most Cambodians my friend does have a washing machine. It is very old and barely works but he has one. He should have used it on these trousers. I was amazed. How did he expect to impress the CEO wearing these pants? I thought about saying something but decided that all that would do was make him feel uneasy.
When he dropped me off we arranged that I would call him when I was ready to return, to see just where he was. It was a little after 3 pm when I called. 'Where are you?' I asked.
'I'm in Kompong Chhnang. They want me to come back to Phnom Penh so I can start tomorrow.'
WOW! He got the job despite his trousers. Or perhaps in Cambodia it is just not important. Good luck to him.
I chose to take the 7.45 am bus. My guesthouse is on the highway only a few minutes drive from the bus station so I went outside to wait at 7.45. At 8.00 am, someone gave me a chair to sit on. At about 8.40 a friend came along in his car. My friend is moderately wealthy. His car is a 15+ year old Camry. To own such a car as this in Cambodia indicates some level of wealth. He needed to go to Phnom Penh for a job interview and told me he would be glad to have some company for the journey. We left at about 8.45 and the bus still hadn't shown.
My friend was applying for a well-paid (by Cambodian standards) job as an interpreter with a local NGO. He'd been through the initial interviews, had passed the medical and now had to meet the CEO who happens to be an Australian. Get through this one and he was in.
We chatted as we headed along the highway. As I looked over to him I noticed that he had put on a good clean shirt, had on his best shoes, but his trousers, they were a fairly casual style and looked like they needed to be put into the washing machine. Yes, unlike most Cambodians my friend does have a washing machine. It is very old and barely works but he has one. He should have used it on these trousers. I was amazed. How did he expect to impress the CEO wearing these pants? I thought about saying something but decided that all that would do was make him feel uneasy.
When he dropped me off we arranged that I would call him when I was ready to return, to see just where he was. It was a little after 3 pm when I called. 'Where are you?' I asked.
'I'm in Kompong Chhnang. They want me to come back to Phnom Penh so I can start tomorrow.'
WOW! He got the job despite his trousers. Or perhaps in Cambodia it is just not important. Good luck to him.
Labels: appearance, Asia, Cambodia, Kompong Chhnang, Phnom Penh
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Noise pollution
A few blogs back I listed some of the challenges that might be found when living in Cambodia. For me the most difficult one is fortunately only an occasional one. There is a tradition in Cambodia that weddings and funerals are celebrated with noise at such an uncomfortable level that I can't see that it can possibly be enjoyable to anyone.
No one has ever told me that when there is such a celebration taking place near their home they say something like, 'Oh goodie. Now I can enjoy a few days of loud distorted music, speeches and monks chanting.'
If it benefits no one, then why does it continue? My only explanation is that it is also a part of Cambodian culture that no one should question or challenge anything. Obviously history provides contradictions to this. Pol Pol and his accomplices must have questioned the status quo prior to their ascendancy. But when they came to power it seems that no one questioned or challenged them, at least not successfully. It took an invasion from an external power to unseat them.
I have been fortunate that no one has seen fit to marry or die in my neighbourhood since my recent arrival here—until today. Actually the celebrations started yesterday afternoon. Fortunately yesterday the volume of the music was kept to an almost bearable level and they turned it off early in the evening. However they started again this morning at full blast, probably about 200 decibels, before 6 am. At least I can be thankful that they didn't start up earlier. 5 am is not unusual here in Kompong Chhnang.
To some extent I was prepared. When I chose this room I selected one that is half way down the building and so protected from noise invasion on three sides. I have earplugs from Australia. I was not able to buy any in Cambodia last year—no one knew what I was talking about. I have an iPod and a set of expensive Bose headphones.
After I was woken first I tried the earplugs. These are good quality mouldable earplugs, rated for about 30 decibels. They made almost no distinguishable difference. Without connecting the iPod I put on the headphones on top of the earplugs. With the combination of the two the difference was discernible but the noise was still too loud to allow me to go back to sleep. I removed the earplugs and plugged the headphones into some music. This was the best combination. It didn't drown the external noise but gave me something more pleasant to concentrate on. I am careful to use my iPod at only half volume. These things have the power to damage hearing just as I'm sure the speakers outside are doing for anyone stupid enough to get close—that's all the wedding guests.
By about 9.45 am, I'd done my usual morning rituals, breakfasted and done my chores and they'd got on to the speeches. Some woman was sounding off in a fiery manner but my ability with Khmer language is not yet good enough for me to benefit from her wisdom. I headed off to the internet cafe. It's at least a kilometre away. Maybe it'd be quieter there. Unfortunately it was not open. Not sure what time it does. I returned to my room. Speeches were still being broadcast but at least the noise had been toned down a little. As I write, just before midday, I can hear something in the distance but it is at a bearable level—no worse than your teenage neighbour would do when his parents are out. I don't expect it'll stay that way. If they follow the traditions it'll be loud into the night this evening and start again tomorrow morning early. I've got my iPod battery fully charged. Hopefully I'm prepared.
* * *
This morning I rang Esther, my Khmer teacher, and suggested she think about another venue for my lesson this afternoon. Esther lives directly behind the house where the wedding was taking place. By time I headed off for the lesson I realised this was not necessary. As I was walking down the street I could see that all the hired chairs, equipment and speakers were being loaded onto a truck. Wow, they had finished the wedding already. I won't have to put up with it any more today and tomorrow.
Esther confirmed that the wedding had in fact finished this morning apparently because the family is quite poor. The toned-down noise I could hear this morning was a funeral a little further away. I've also learned that the reason the internet cafe was closed was that the staff all attended the wedding.
No one has ever told me that when there is such a celebration taking place near their home they say something like, 'Oh goodie. Now I can enjoy a few days of loud distorted music, speeches and monks chanting.'
If it benefits no one, then why does it continue? My only explanation is that it is also a part of Cambodian culture that no one should question or challenge anything. Obviously history provides contradictions to this. Pol Pol and his accomplices must have questioned the status quo prior to their ascendancy. But when they came to power it seems that no one questioned or challenged them, at least not successfully. It took an invasion from an external power to unseat them.
I have been fortunate that no one has seen fit to marry or die in my neighbourhood since my recent arrival here—until today. Actually the celebrations started yesterday afternoon. Fortunately yesterday the volume of the music was kept to an almost bearable level and they turned it off early in the evening. However they started again this morning at full blast, probably about 200 decibels, before 6 am. At least I can be thankful that they didn't start up earlier. 5 am is not unusual here in Kompong Chhnang.
To some extent I was prepared. When I chose this room I selected one that is half way down the building and so protected from noise invasion on three sides. I have earplugs from Australia. I was not able to buy any in Cambodia last year—no one knew what I was talking about. I have an iPod and a set of expensive Bose headphones.
After I was woken first I tried the earplugs. These are good quality mouldable earplugs, rated for about 30 decibels. They made almost no distinguishable difference. Without connecting the iPod I put on the headphones on top of the earplugs. With the combination of the two the difference was discernible but the noise was still too loud to allow me to go back to sleep. I removed the earplugs and plugged the headphones into some music. This was the best combination. It didn't drown the external noise but gave me something more pleasant to concentrate on. I am careful to use my iPod at only half volume. These things have the power to damage hearing just as I'm sure the speakers outside are doing for anyone stupid enough to get close—that's all the wedding guests.
By about 9.45 am, I'd done my usual morning rituals, breakfasted and done my chores and they'd got on to the speeches. Some woman was sounding off in a fiery manner but my ability with Khmer language is not yet good enough for me to benefit from her wisdom. I headed off to the internet cafe. It's at least a kilometre away. Maybe it'd be quieter there. Unfortunately it was not open. Not sure what time it does. I returned to my room. Speeches were still being broadcast but at least the noise had been toned down a little. As I write, just before midday, I can hear something in the distance but it is at a bearable level—no worse than your teenage neighbour would do when his parents are out. I don't expect it'll stay that way. If they follow the traditions it'll be loud into the night this evening and start again tomorrow morning early. I've got my iPod battery fully charged. Hopefully I'm prepared.
* * *
This morning I rang Esther, my Khmer teacher, and suggested she think about another venue for my lesson this afternoon. Esther lives directly behind the house where the wedding was taking place. By time I headed off for the lesson I realised this was not necessary. As I was walking down the street I could see that all the hired chairs, equipment and speakers were being loaded onto a truck. Wow, they had finished the wedding already. I won't have to put up with it any more today and tomorrow.
Esther confirmed that the wedding had in fact finished this morning apparently because the family is quite poor. The toned-down noise I could hear this morning was a funeral a little further away. I've also learned that the reason the internet cafe was closed was that the staff all attended the wedding.
Labels: Asia, Cambodia, earphones, Kompong Chhnang, noise
Monday, October 29, 2007
50 smiles
I think I've figured what it is I need in life. Fifty smiles a day and I can cope with almost anything else. And yes, here in Kompong Chhnang my needs are being met.Just for the record, all these photos were taken in Cambodia, most in Kompong Chhnang. If you are really keen perhaps you can identify many of them on my flickr pages. Have fun.
Which ones do you think are related?
Add a comment and vote for the happiest smile. Maybe I'll give a prize to the winner—ie the owner of the smile—if I can track them down.
Labels: Asia, Cambodia, Kompong Chhnang, smile
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Life in Cambodia
I had hoped to return to my previous home in Kompong Chhnang and the life I had in Cambodia last year. Discovered a few days before I arrived that an international organisation had approached the landlord and offered to rent the house for three years. It's been empty since I left a year ago. He took the better offer and I don't blame him.
At first I was disappointed but then I saw it as an opportunity to stay in Phnom Penh and study Khmer. Besides, my friend, Vana, is now living in Phnom Penh and that would give me someone who speaks the language to help with any problems.
We decided to make a day trip to Kompong Chhnang the day after I arrived. No one else knew I was coming. Vana and I reached the Sorya bus station in Phnom Penh at 9.45 am. It was more crowded than usual as there had been a holiday for the P'chum Ben Festival. The ticket office told us that the next bus to Kompong Chhnang was at 10.30. We bought our tickets and went to get some breakfast. Arrived back at the bus station at 10.15 am. Waited until 11.30 when Vana discovered that the bus was at the service station on the other side of the road. I don't know if he asked or heard an announcement but there was no information given in English. There never is. We went across and there was the usual situation that I compare to if you had put a bunch of bananas in the bus and a mob of monkeys were all trying to be the first to get in. In Cambodia, no one wants to be last on the bus.
Despite all this rush there were plenty of seats. But I discovered the system has changed. In the past, I usually sat in the middle of the back row because then I could stretch my legs into the aisle. There is insufficient room for westerners' legs in most seats. Now they have scrawled numbers on the ceiling with a marker and the seat numbers are allocated on the ticket. The conductor insisted we sit in the allocated seats. I was whinging and carrying on. I do this in English and very few people have a clue what I am saying but it gets it off my chest. Perhaps the conductor did understand. After a few minutes he decided that as the back row was empty and Cambodians don't usually want to sit there we could move down the back.
I understand why they number the seats. The back row fits five. But sometimes I get on, the bus is full except in the back row there are three young guys occupying five spaces. They're sitting with knees so far apart you'd think they each had a pair of footballs between their legs. I have to bully them to get them to move enough for one skinny westerner to fit in. Most Cambodians wouldn't say anything, they just stand quietly and let the conductor do the bullying.
Anyway, that is not an issue today. There are ample seats. We leave for KC without calling in at the bus station. I probably would have missed the bus if I'd been on my own. But then if I'd been on my own I'd have checked way earlier and they probably would have sent a message to me somehow. I was well known by the ticket sellers at this bus station. I've waited a long time for buses in the past but I don't think I ever missed one.
A couple of hours later we get off in KC and walk down the street to Vana's family home. He has been storing some of my stuff and we sort through it a bit. He has some work to do too in relation to the job he is doing in PP. I borrow a bicycle and head for the market. We have not told anyone that I am coming. When I get to the Seinah & Seinee family stall their mother is outside. She calls out 'John!' before I'm even close enough to see them properly. I miss the opportunity to see the looks on the faces of the twins who are inside.
I sit with them and chat. After a while they need to get back to work. I wander off to see who else I can find. At Savern's stall, her mother is lying in a hammock, which is the usual way they wait for customers. She call's to Savern who is busy with a customer at the other end of the stall. The mother stays in the hammock holding my hand until Savern finishes with the customer. Then Savern comes and gives me a hug over the top of the mother. This is unusual here as physical affection is not usually shown in public in Asian countries, at least not between males and females.
I chat for a while with Savern. She has forgotten most of the English she knew so speaks mostly in Khmer which evolves into a Khmer lesson for me. This often happened when I was there before. She is a natural teacher. Vana's mother, who was also not aware that I was here, turns up. Then she spreads the word to a few relatives who have stalls a little further down. I spend some time with each of them. I try to buy a pair of sunglasses from one. They refuse to take my money. At that price, maybe I could buy a new pair of reading glasses too but they don't have the right strength. Vana turns up and we walk around the rest of the market together.
I take him to vendors who I know but he doesn't. I chat to them with my limited Khmer but this time we can communicate a little more than usual because Vana can translate. He is quite surprised at how warmly so many people are greeting me. After we've done the circuit he says, 'I know that Seinah, Seinie and Savern love you but I did not know that so many people all over the market love you.'
When we go back to his place we start packing stuff for me to take back to Phnom Penh but it is too late now to go back that day. We stay at his place the night. He keeps telling me that he can find a house for me if I want to stay in KC. He thinks this is where I belong because so many people want me to come and stay. In fact he has only seen part of it. I could take him to four monasteries in town where I would get a similar reception from many of the monks.
Me, I'm feeling confused. All this demonstration of affection is very appealing but on the other hand my communication with the majority of these people is limited by my lack of ability in Khmer language. I am thinking that learning Khmer is my priority and that I can probably do that best in PP.
That night Vana's parents give up their bed for me. I try to insist that I am happy to sleep on a mat on the floor but he insists 'You are my guest' and the parents sleep on a mat on the verandah.
When I wake the next morning I have a feeling that I should make plans to come back to stay in KC. I feel sure that I can find a teacher in town. We go for a walk and Vana shows me some accommodation that has been offered to me but it's not really suited to my preferred lifestyle.
Vana's brother is going to give him a ride back to PP on his motorcycle. First they take me to a guesthouse to check if there is a vacancy so I can stay there until a house turns up, then they drop me at the bus station. It's about 8.15 and the bus is due to leave at 9 o'clock. It seems the bus company has made some changes. In the past, several buses would stay overnight at KC and they would leave at roughly one hour intervals in the morning. But today there is no bus there. It arrives way past 9 am and by then there are many people waiting.
Last year they would leave with about six people on board. We go through the monkey boarding procedure again. I wait back. I choose to not be a monkey. And my karma must be good. Somehow the best seat on the bus is empty. This one is at the front just behind the entrance. There is no seat in front of it. I grab it. There are a few others who don't get proper seats. They sit on the spare wheel and on the engine covering.
As we head in towards PP, there is a lot of flooding across the road. It rained heavily the previous night. There are also a lot more passengers who board. The bus reaches a point where, in a western country, it would be considered full. As you can see from the picture above, it's not a very big bus. We stop and there are seven people waiting to get on. That's seven adults, there's also a baby and two of the adults are elderly. They also have several sacks. One looks like it's filled with charcoal, another perhaps rice. Somehow this is all fitted in. The old folks and the mother all sit on the sacks in the aisle. Everyone else squeezes further back.
I wondered what would happen if there was anyone else waiting. I'm not sure if this bus company puts passengers on the roof. It doesn't. From then on the driver signals 'no room' to other prospective passengers. It's midday before we finally reach PP.
I spent a few days deliberating over my decision to return to Kompong Chhnang. Somehow I wasn't sure it was right. But by Wednesday I was convinced it was so have now returned with all my stuff. I'm still in the guesthouse but have found a home. It's not ready yet so I'll write about it after I move in, perhaps in a week or two. I've also found a Khmer teacher close by and am having regular lessons. I'm happy with these arrangements. I feel I've made the right decision.
At first I was disappointed but then I saw it as an opportunity to stay in Phnom Penh and study Khmer. Besides, my friend, Vana, is now living in Phnom Penh and that would give me someone who speaks the language to help with any problems.
We decided to make a day trip to Kompong Chhnang the day after I arrived. No one else knew I was coming. Vana and I reached the Sorya bus station in Phnom Penh at 9.45 am. It was more crowded than usual as there had been a holiday for the P'chum Ben Festival. The ticket office told us that the next bus to Kompong Chhnang was at 10.30. We bought our tickets and went to get some breakfast. Arrived back at the bus station at 10.15 am. Waited until 11.30 when Vana discovered that the bus was at the service station on the other side of the road. I don't know if he asked or heard an announcement but there was no information given in English. There never is. We went across and there was the usual situation that I compare to if you had put a bunch of bananas in the bus and a mob of monkeys were all trying to be the first to get in. In Cambodia, no one wants to be last on the bus.
Despite all this rush there were plenty of seats. But I discovered the system has changed. In the past, I usually sat in the middle of the back row because then I could stretch my legs into the aisle. There is insufficient room for westerners' legs in most seats. Now they have scrawled numbers on the ceiling with a marker and the seat numbers are allocated on the ticket. The conductor insisted we sit in the allocated seats. I was whinging and carrying on. I do this in English and very few people have a clue what I am saying but it gets it off my chest. Perhaps the conductor did understand. After a few minutes he decided that as the back row was empty and Cambodians don't usually want to sit there we could move down the back.I understand why they number the seats. The back row fits five. But sometimes I get on, the bus is full except in the back row there are three young guys occupying five spaces. They're sitting with knees so far apart you'd think they each had a pair of footballs between their legs. I have to bully them to get them to move enough for one skinny westerner to fit in. Most Cambodians wouldn't say anything, they just stand quietly and let the conductor do the bullying.
Anyway, that is not an issue today. There are ample seats. We leave for KC without calling in at the bus station. I probably would have missed the bus if I'd been on my own. But then if I'd been on my own I'd have checked way earlier and they probably would have sent a message to me somehow. I was well known by the ticket sellers at this bus station. I've waited a long time for buses in the past but I don't think I ever missed one.
A couple of hours later we get off in KC and walk down the street to Vana's family home. He has been storing some of my stuff and we sort through it a bit. He has some work to do too in relation to the job he is doing in PP. I borrow a bicycle and head for the market. We have not told anyone that I am coming. When I get to the Seinah & Seinee family stall their mother is outside. She calls out 'John!' before I'm even close enough to see them properly. I miss the opportunity to see the looks on the faces of the twins who are inside.
I sit with them and chat. After a while they need to get back to work. I wander off to see who else I can find. At Savern's stall, her mother is lying in a hammock, which is the usual way they wait for customers. She call's to Savern who is busy with a customer at the other end of the stall. The mother stays in the hammock holding my hand until Savern finishes with the customer. Then Savern comes and gives me a hug over the top of the mother. This is unusual here as physical affection is not usually shown in public in Asian countries, at least not between males and females.
I chat for a while with Savern. She has forgotten most of the English she knew so speaks mostly in Khmer which evolves into a Khmer lesson for me. This often happened when I was there before. She is a natural teacher. Vana's mother, who was also not aware that I was here, turns up. Then she spreads the word to a few relatives who have stalls a little further down. I spend some time with each of them. I try to buy a pair of sunglasses from one. They refuse to take my money. At that price, maybe I could buy a new pair of reading glasses too but they don't have the right strength. Vana turns up and we walk around the rest of the market together.
I take him to vendors who I know but he doesn't. I chat to them with my limited Khmer but this time we can communicate a little more than usual because Vana can translate. He is quite surprised at how warmly so many people are greeting me. After we've done the circuit he says, 'I know that Seinah, Seinie and Savern love you but I did not know that so many people all over the market love you.'
When we go back to his place we start packing stuff for me to take back to Phnom Penh but it is too late now to go back that day. We stay at his place the night. He keeps telling me that he can find a house for me if I want to stay in KC. He thinks this is where I belong because so many people want me to come and stay. In fact he has only seen part of it. I could take him to four monasteries in town where I would get a similar reception from many of the monks.
Me, I'm feeling confused. All this demonstration of affection is very appealing but on the other hand my communication with the majority of these people is limited by my lack of ability in Khmer language. I am thinking that learning Khmer is my priority and that I can probably do that best in PP.
That night Vana's parents give up their bed for me. I try to insist that I am happy to sleep on a mat on the floor but he insists 'You are my guest' and the parents sleep on a mat on the verandah.
When I wake the next morning I have a feeling that I should make plans to come back to stay in KC. I feel sure that I can find a teacher in town. We go for a walk and Vana shows me some accommodation that has been offered to me but it's not really suited to my preferred lifestyle.
Vana's brother is going to give him a ride back to PP on his motorcycle. First they take me to a guesthouse to check if there is a vacancy so I can stay there until a house turns up, then they drop me at the bus station. It's about 8.15 and the bus is due to leave at 9 o'clock. It seems the bus company has made some changes. In the past, several buses would stay overnight at KC and they would leave at roughly one hour intervals in the morning. But today there is no bus there. It arrives way past 9 am and by then there are many people waiting.
Last year they would leave with about six people on board. We go through the monkey boarding procedure again. I wait back. I choose to not be a monkey. And my karma must be good. Somehow the best seat on the bus is empty. This one is at the front just behind the entrance. There is no seat in front of it. I grab it. There are a few others who don't get proper seats. They sit on the spare wheel and on the engine covering.
As we head in towards PP, there is a lot of flooding across the road. It rained heavily the previous night. There are also a lot more passengers who board. The bus reaches a point where, in a western country, it would be considered full. As you can see from the picture above, it's not a very big bus. We stop and there are seven people waiting to get on. That's seven adults, there's also a baby and two of the adults are elderly. They also have several sacks. One looks like it's filled with charcoal, another perhaps rice. Somehow this is all fitted in. The old folks and the mother all sit on the sacks in the aisle. Everyone else squeezes further back.
I wondered what would happen if there was anyone else waiting. I'm not sure if this bus company puts passengers on the roof. It doesn't. From then on the driver signals 'no room' to other prospective passengers. It's midday before we finally reach PP.
I spent a few days deliberating over my decision to return to Kompong Chhnang. Somehow I wasn't sure it was right. But by Wednesday I was convinced it was so have now returned with all my stuff. I'm still in the guesthouse but have found a home. It's not ready yet so I'll write about it after I move in, perhaps in a week or two. I've also found a Khmer teacher close by and am having regular lessons. I'm happy with these arrangements. I feel I've made the right decision.
Labels: Asia, Cambodia, flood, Kompong Chhnang, Phnom Penh
