It's been well over a month since I've seen an elephant, much less been privileged enough to give one a bath or say butter-butter-butter to one. This blog has been very good to me in that it has caused me to re-live my memories in detail and to record them in a way I'll be able to re-visit for years. And it's also been so very good to see on my "Stats" that there have been about 2000 views of this thing--some of them I'm sure by accident--since its inception in March. And some of you have been so good about commenting--thank you so very much.
I've been working with Jack and Jemma to see if there is some way to get some more of the little wooden elephants carved by the mahouts in case anyone here would like one. We still haven't learned whether that's feasible. I thought it would be good to sell some to people here so that the mahouts could make some extra money and the Project could have a little emergency fund too. Jack told me how they were offered an elephant for $7500--apparently not a bad price for an elephant--but they didn't happen to have that much on hand at the time. Shortly later they learned that the elephant had died of neglect.
If any of you feel moved to help the Project, there is a place you can donate on their website, which is at http://www.elephantvalleyproject.org/
If anyone feels like they might to go to the Project and has any questions, please either email me or leave a question in the comments section of this blog, and I will answer them promptly.
Another thing I need to say is this: when I told one of my friends about this trip I was planning, and she learned that Scott was not going, she said "Oh, no, is something wrong with your marriage?" I was stunned to hear her ask that. Scott has been so unbelievably supportive of this whole thing, despite his very real reservations. I would never have had the nerve to go without his reassurance and devotion and selflessness. I once read that one sign of a good marriage is whether you find yourself able to do important things you would not have done on your own. This trip has taught me that I am fortunate enough to have a REALLY good marriage! Thank you Scott!
Thanks for reading!
And here's a BIG good-bye from the girls.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Friday, September 9, 2011
Miscellany Part 2
While going through the videos I took, I found this one of Buffy trying to steal sugar cane from Easy. Sugar cane is a rare treat for the Big Four, and they love it! Each elephant had been given a piece the size of a piece of firewood, and Buffy, having finished hers first, thought she'd help herself to Easy's. Easy declined to share, however, so Buffy had to make do with a multiple-itch scratch.
One day when Meagan and I were out with the mahouts and the Big Four, I caught a glimpse out of the corner of my eye of what appeared to be a tiny brightly colored whirling umbrella. I thought it was either: A. An alien spaceship on a mission to the elephants of Mondulkiri; B. A hummingbird, or: C. A hallucination resulting from dehydration or something or other. Wrong on all counts! Here is the photo Meagan got of it. Wish we could have gotten a shot of it while it was in flight.
A world class bug!
And the last miscellaneous photo I'd like to show you is something that arrived at home the day I got back. It was from my dear friends The Inalienables welcoming me back from my huge adventure!
One day when Meagan and I were out with the mahouts and the Big Four, I caught a glimpse out of the corner of my eye of what appeared to be a tiny brightly colored whirling umbrella. I thought it was either: A. An alien spaceship on a mission to the elephants of Mondulkiri; B. A hummingbird, or: C. A hallucination resulting from dehydration or something or other. Wrong on all counts! Here is the photo Meagan got of it. Wish we could have gotten a shot of it while it was in flight.
A world class bug!
And the last miscellaneous photo I'd like to show you is something that arrived at home the day I got back. It was from my dear friends The Inalienables welcoming me back from my huge adventure!
Just one more blog entry after this!
Monday, September 5, 2011
Miscellany
It's hard for me to end this thing. I've so enjoyed remembering the details of the trip, and I think this blog will make those memories clearer and longer-lasting that any I've acquired in other trips. And those of you who have been reading along, and especially those of you who have been commenting, Lynn and Marc and Kathy, have really enhanced the pleasure I've gotten from this blog! Thank you so very much!
So. When I review my photo album, I find several pictures that somehow didn't fit into previous blogs, so I going to post them not, even if they don't fit into any particular chronology. Here goes:
This is the genocide museum at the Killing Fields. I thought this tree was so beautiful it almost neutralized some of the horror.
What is there about those who commit genocide that makes them such meticulous record-keepers? Wouldn't you think you'd want to destroy all the records? What on earth could make you think you'd be well-thought-of by the future?
But no, the Khmer Rouge kept incredibly detailed records of all the people they arrested, tortured, and killed--mostly all the well-educated people of the country, doctors, engineers, lawyers, writers, journalists--roughly 1/4 of the population. The records they kept included photographs, of which these are some.
Apparently when the Vietnamese finally rid the country of the Pol Pot regime, the bodies of people who had been tortured to death were found at the downtown prison named S-21. Photos of the victims were displayed in the very rooms the bodies were found in, together with some of the devices of torture used.
These lovely little Buddhist shrines are all over the country, complete with little incense sticks for passers-by to use to pay their respects.
But this one, right on the grounds of S-21 seemed TOO ironic for my tastes.
There were an awful lot of beautiful temples and palaces in Phnom Penh. I wish I could tell you more about them, but I was too hot to do anything more than take a picture.
Jemma was JUST telling me to look out for this type of plant when I slipped on the clay and reached out to catch myself on--you guessed it--one of these! Can you SEE the size of the thorns on this tree? Stuck my thumb good and hard and gave me a use for some of that terrific antibiotic cream I'd brought.
This sign at the Elephant Valley Project says everything that needs to be said. This photo, by the way, was taken by Jill.
Even sad-eyed Happy Lucky looked content when she got to eat banana leaves. In the background you can see the sign marking the sometimes impassable driveway into the Elephant Valley Project.
You met Granny at the wedding. Well, this was the little house at the Project she had. She watched the little kids who are children of the mahouts and the other staff. Every time you'd walk by, the kids would shout "Hello! Hello!" and "Bye-bye! Bye-bye" interchangeably. Even so, their English was incomparably better than my Bunong. This is a pretty typical Bunong home.
More later!
So. When I review my photo album, I find several pictures that somehow didn't fit into previous blogs, so I going to post them not, even if they don't fit into any particular chronology. Here goes:
This is the genocide museum at the Killing Fields. I thought this tree was so beautiful it almost neutralized some of the horror.
But no, the Khmer Rouge kept incredibly detailed records of all the people they arrested, tortured, and killed--mostly all the well-educated people of the country, doctors, engineers, lawyers, writers, journalists--roughly 1/4 of the population. The records they kept included photographs, of which these are some.
Apparently when the Vietnamese finally rid the country of the Pol Pot regime, the bodies of people who had been tortured to death were found at the downtown prison named S-21. Photos of the victims were displayed in the very rooms the bodies were found in, together with some of the devices of torture used.
These lovely little Buddhist shrines are all over the country, complete with little incense sticks for passers-by to use to pay their respects.
But this one, right on the grounds of S-21 seemed TOO ironic for my tastes.
There were an awful lot of beautiful temples and palaces in Phnom Penh. I wish I could tell you more about them, but I was too hot to do anything more than take a picture.
Jemma was JUST telling me to look out for this type of plant when I slipped on the clay and reached out to catch myself on--you guessed it--one of these! Can you SEE the size of the thorns on this tree? Stuck my thumb good and hard and gave me a use for some of that terrific antibiotic cream I'd brought.
This sign at the Elephant Valley Project says everything that needs to be said. This photo, by the way, was taken by Jill.
Even sad-eyed Happy Lucky looked content when she got to eat banana leaves. In the background you can see the sign marking the sometimes impassable driveway into the Elephant Valley Project.
You met Granny at the wedding. Well, this was the little house at the Project she had. She watched the little kids who are children of the mahouts and the other staff. Every time you'd walk by, the kids would shout "Hello! Hello!" and "Bye-bye! Bye-bye" interchangeably. Even so, their English was incomparably better than my Bunong. This is a pretty typical Bunong home.
More later!
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Counting the cats in Zanzibar
Not quite home yet! I spent a nice evening exhausting Kurt and Wendy with elephant stories and then slept for a couple of hours and woke up all wide-eyed and raring to go. Waited until after breakfast, though, and then had the 5 and 1/2 hour drive home ahead of me. It gave me ample time to think about what had just happened and whether it had been a valuable thing to do.
I remembered what Thoreau said about it's not being worth the while to travel around the world to count the cats in Zanzibar, and how I used to think he was right. Clearly there are many many wonderful experiences to be had in one's back yard (even if it ISN'T Walden Pond), and the wonder needs only to be cultivated and nurtured.
I'm pretty sure Henry David would have disapproved of this trip of mine. Not only are there plenty of experiences to be savored in MY back yard--which is, after all, a jewel among back yards--but there are also lots of suffering animals, lots of people struggling to scratch out a living, and loads of problems awaiting attention close to home. It's true: I did not NEED to go looking for problems as far off as remote Cambodia.
Yet, I thought the trip provided amazing value. For example, I felt so . . . . . well. ALIVE. As the current cliche goes, I had gone out--WAY out--of my comfort zone. With having virtually NO familiar sights around me, I was always hyper-aware. Maybe even a bit scared.
You know how sometimes you will settle into a routine, and eat an ordinary meal, watch the news, look at the paper and realize some minutes later that you can't remember WHAT you ate, how it tasted, what was on the news, what you read? You simply FORGOT what JUST happened!
Maybe it SHOULDN'T be that way, but at least for me, it sometimes just is. I start to take life for granted. This trip was a real jolt to my system, and I hope I can carry the lesson with me. Life must NOT be taken for granted. ALL experiences, large AND small, should be savored and appreciated.
I was so eager to get home. It was so good to see Scott's smiling face and Emma's wagging tail and hear Aramis's shrieks of delight. Our house and the river and the marsh. And I think I saw it all the more clearly and distinctly because of what I saw in Cambodia.
Were those the ONLY thoughts I could scrounge up? Of COURSE not! Don't go away! I'll be back!
Oh, and by the way, here's how a REAL writer talks about the value of travel: http://www.nytimes.com/2011/08/30/opinion/brooks-the-haimish-line.html?_r=4&partner=rss&emc=rss
I remembered what Thoreau said about it's not being worth the while to travel around the world to count the cats in Zanzibar, and how I used to think he was right. Clearly there are many many wonderful experiences to be had in one's back yard (even if it ISN'T Walden Pond), and the wonder needs only to be cultivated and nurtured.
I'm pretty sure Henry David would have disapproved of this trip of mine. Not only are there plenty of experiences to be savored in MY back yard--which is, after all, a jewel among back yards--but there are also lots of suffering animals, lots of people struggling to scratch out a living, and loads of problems awaiting attention close to home. It's true: I did not NEED to go looking for problems as far off as remote Cambodia.
Yet, I thought the trip provided amazing value. For example, I felt so . . . . . well. ALIVE. As the current cliche goes, I had gone out--WAY out--of my comfort zone. With having virtually NO familiar sights around me, I was always hyper-aware. Maybe even a bit scared.
You know how sometimes you will settle into a routine, and eat an ordinary meal, watch the news, look at the paper and realize some minutes later that you can't remember WHAT you ate, how it tasted, what was on the news, what you read? You simply FORGOT what JUST happened!
Maybe it SHOULDN'T be that way, but at least for me, it sometimes just is. I start to take life for granted. This trip was a real jolt to my system, and I hope I can carry the lesson with me. Life must NOT be taken for granted. ALL experiences, large AND small, should be savored and appreciated.
I was so eager to get home. It was so good to see Scott's smiling face and Emma's wagging tail and hear Aramis's shrieks of delight. Our house and the river and the marsh. And I think I saw it all the more clearly and distinctly because of what I saw in Cambodia.
Were those the ONLY thoughts I could scrounge up? Of COURSE not! Don't go away! I'll be back!
Oh, and by the way, here's how a REAL writer talks about the value of travel: http://www.nytimes.com/2011/08/30/opinion/brooks-the-haimish-line.html?_r=4&partner=rss&emc=rss
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
The last leg
My seatmates from Seoul to Chicago were not at all scary. They were in fact very nice people--a mother and daughter duo from St. Louis who had been in Korea visiting another daughter who was teaching there. We all dozed off and on, ate off and on, chatted off and on, and watched movies off and on. We took a decidedly different route back than we had going over--MUCH further south and this time over some ocean. It was dark most of the way though. I was so disoriented as to time. I'd never had to change my watch, since there is exactly 12 hours difference between Cambodia and home, but I couldn't have told you WHAT time is was along the way.
The trip was blandly smooth and uneventful. Did we arrive in Chicago on time? Of COURSE we arrived in Chicago on time. This was Korean Air Lines, and no delays are tolerated.
I was a little nervous about going through customs. I hadn't spent much at all so wasn't worried about duties, but I WAS worried about my little hand-carved elephants, the coffee I'd bought in Mondulkiri, and the mucky red clay on my shoes. We'd been informed during the flight that we had to go through a special gate if we'd been in an agricultural area and/or had any agricultural products, and after about two hours of deliberation, I decided I HAD been in an agricultural area and that I did in fact have some agricultural products.
Chicago looked great to me! I was particularly impressed with the cheerful nature of the people at Customs. The guy checked my passport and said "Hey! Did you have fun in Cambodia?" [For you cynics out there, yes, this WAS Chicago!] This was a reassuring difference from the Cambodian guy's demanding MORE!
I noticed--as I probably wouldn't have noticed a month earlier--that even the luggage carriers were friendly and chatty and kidded the incoming travellers about what they had in their bags. Seemed like a really friendly place, and I found myself most appreciative.
At the agricultural stop, the official said "Did you work around farm animals?" and I said "Well, elephants," and he said "ELEPHANTS!" and merrily waved me through. I thought I had more official stops to make, but I walked through a door and there was KURT! My oh-so-kind brother-in-law coming to pick me up. The first familiar face I'd seen for nearly 3 weeks. I was home.
The trip was blandly smooth and uneventful. Did we arrive in Chicago on time? Of COURSE we arrived in Chicago on time. This was Korean Air Lines, and no delays are tolerated.
I was a little nervous about going through customs. I hadn't spent much at all so wasn't worried about duties, but I WAS worried about my little hand-carved elephants, the coffee I'd bought in Mondulkiri, and the mucky red clay on my shoes. We'd been informed during the flight that we had to go through a special gate if we'd been in an agricultural area and/or had any agricultural products, and after about two hours of deliberation, I decided I HAD been in an agricultural area and that I did in fact have some agricultural products.
Chicago looked great to me! I was particularly impressed with the cheerful nature of the people at Customs. The guy checked my passport and said "Hey! Did you have fun in Cambodia?" [For you cynics out there, yes, this WAS Chicago!] This was a reassuring difference from the Cambodian guy's demanding MORE!
I noticed--as I probably wouldn't have noticed a month earlier--that even the luggage carriers were friendly and chatty and kidded the incoming travellers about what they had in their bags. Seemed like a really friendly place, and I found myself most appreciative.
At the agricultural stop, the official said "Did you work around farm animals?" and I said "Well, elephants," and he said "ELEPHANTS!" and merrily waved me through. I thought I had more official stops to make, but I walked through a door and there was KURT! My oh-so-kind brother-in-law coming to pick me up. The first familiar face I'd seen for nearly 3 weeks. I was home.
It's a long road home
The light show finished with a grand finale featuring the 1812 Overture. I reluctantly packed my bags, settled up my bill, and met my tuk tuk driver, who was the very same gentleman who'd picked me up from the airport and the next day took me on the tour of Phnom Penh! That seemed like ages ago to me, but apparently not to him, because he greeted me by name with the utmost friendliness.
We drove through the darkened streets to the airport, and I savored the sights and the night air for about a half hour until we arrived at the airport. I'd worried that there might be some complications leaving because of that guy who kept demanding "MORE!" when I'd come through customs, but as Jack would say, "no worries." I checked in as quickly and uneventfully as if it had been Rhinelander.
I did a little snooping around the airport shops, made a couple of small purchases, and my flight loaded and took off precisely on time, just as I had come to expect from Korean Air Lines.
The woman seated next to my right was SO irritable, SO jumpy, and SO agitated she was scary. I mean scary as in "Is she planning to blow up the plane?" scary. That was a mystery that went unsolved, though, and I was consoled by my other seatmate Juliet, who LIVES in Phnom Penh, is doing missionary work there, and was going home to Utah briefly for her daughter's wedding. She was great company, and since neither of us could sleep, that was a good thing.
We arrived in Seoul without blowing up, and I resigned myself to the tedium of a 12-hour layover. Juliet's flight left much earlier than mine, so we had a leisurely breakfast and then I helped her schlep all her carry-on stuff to her gate. I was rewarded by her letting me use her netbook to actually Skype with Scott. Scott showed me Aramis, live and lively, and I got acutely homesick.
I suppose interesting airports are rare, but let me assure you that Seoul's is not one of them, unless you happen to like to shop EXTREMELY high end shops--like Hermes and Chanel and so on and so on. It seemed horribly excessive to me after Cambodia, and I didn't like it one bit. I even indulged myself in a little--OK, VERY little--joke that Seoul has no soul.
The weird thing was that in the midst of all this blatant consumerism there'd be these little theatrical vignettes. People dressed up in traditional Korean costumes, pretending to be an ancient Korean court or something. Formal to the nth degree--beautiful costumes--well, I can't pretend I liked it after seeing it every hour upon the hour for-----let's see----- about 12 times.
After the interminable wait, my flight was finally called, precisely on time in fine Korean style, and I was headed for O'Hare sweet O'Hare.
We drove through the darkened streets to the airport, and I savored the sights and the night air for about a half hour until we arrived at the airport. I'd worried that there might be some complications leaving because of that guy who kept demanding "MORE!" when I'd come through customs, but as Jack would say, "no worries." I checked in as quickly and uneventfully as if it had been Rhinelander.
I did a little snooping around the airport shops, made a couple of small purchases, and my flight loaded and took off precisely on time, just as I had come to expect from Korean Air Lines.
The woman seated next to my right was SO irritable, SO jumpy, and SO agitated she was scary. I mean scary as in "Is she planning to blow up the plane?" scary. That was a mystery that went unsolved, though, and I was consoled by my other seatmate Juliet, who LIVES in Phnom Penh, is doing missionary work there, and was going home to Utah briefly for her daughter's wedding. She was great company, and since neither of us could sleep, that was a good thing.
We arrived in Seoul without blowing up, and I resigned myself to the tedium of a 12-hour layover. Juliet's flight left much earlier than mine, so we had a leisurely breakfast and then I helped her schlep all her carry-on stuff to her gate. I was rewarded by her letting me use her netbook to actually Skype with Scott. Scott showed me Aramis, live and lively, and I got acutely homesick.
I suppose interesting airports are rare, but let me assure you that Seoul's is not one of them, unless you happen to like to shop EXTREMELY high end shops--like Hermes and Chanel and so on and so on. It seemed horribly excessive to me after Cambodia, and I didn't like it one bit. I even indulged myself in a little--OK, VERY little--joke that Seoul has no soul.
The weird thing was that in the midst of all this blatant consumerism there'd be these little theatrical vignettes. People dressed up in traditional Korean costumes, pretending to be an ancient Korean court or something. Formal to the nth degree--beautiful costumes--well, I can't pretend I liked it after seeing it every hour upon the hour for-----let's see----- about 12 times.
After the interminable wait, my flight was finally called, precisely on time in fine Korean style, and I was headed for O'Hare sweet O'Hare.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Divine decadence
While I was wandering around the city, I couldn't help but notice that there appeared to be many nice restaurants around, and almost every nationality. Much as I had enjoyed Khmer food, I was up for something different, and why NOT my favorite? Italian! I asked around at the Three Rivers and was assured that Le Duo was a good Italian restaurant. I decided to go around 4:00 so that I would have plenty of time to get packed up before leaving for my flight.
After carefully ensuring that I had BOTH the name and address of the restaurant AND the name and address of the hotel written down for purposes of informing the tuk-tuk drivers, off I went. I was perhaps a LITTLE surprised to find most of the staff playing pool when I arrived, but of course, who eats at 4:30? At least they were there and willing to serve food.
I got a little table by the swimming pool where a little girl was splashing around mermaid-like. It was so very pleasant and so reminiscent of Italy I couldn't help but wish that Scott was there with me so we could reminisce about Amalfi.
They brought me my FIRST glass of vino blanco secco, and the sense of well-being I'd had while grazing with the Big Four returned in full force.
And then I ordered FOOD!! I had a sea bass carpaccio that was absolutely fantastic. I'd never had it before. Beef carpaccio, yes. Sushi, yes. Ceviche, yes. But oh my, this was something new and wonderful. Too bad I didn't take the picture before having a couple bites, but how was I to know it would be so memorable? Look at it and weep. Also, you may like the tablecloth.
After THAT, the gnocchi with walnuts and gorgonzola were also delicious, but not of the same astounding quality as the fish. But the lemon ice dessert was again fantastic.
My oh my, I was a picture of fat contentment on my tuk-tuk ride back to the hotel, and wishing to extend the feeling, I went up to the top of the hotel, sat by THAT pool, had a brandy, and watched the light and water show in the neighboring square.
I can't imagine there's a setting more different from the Elephant Valley Project in Cambodia. Of COURSE I liked the Project better, but this was very very good. And though I'd not been much impressed with Phnom Penh at first, now I was feeling sad to leave it.
After carefully ensuring that I had BOTH the name and address of the restaurant AND the name and address of the hotel written down for purposes of informing the tuk-tuk drivers, off I went. I was perhaps a LITTLE surprised to find most of the staff playing pool when I arrived, but of course, who eats at 4:30? At least they were there and willing to serve food.
I got a little table by the swimming pool where a little girl was splashing around mermaid-like. It was so very pleasant and so reminiscent of Italy I couldn't help but wish that Scott was there with me so we could reminisce about Amalfi.
They brought me my FIRST glass of vino blanco secco, and the sense of well-being I'd had while grazing with the Big Four returned in full force.
After THAT, the gnocchi with walnuts and gorgonzola were also delicious, but not of the same astounding quality as the fish. But the lemon ice dessert was again fantastic.
My oh my, I was a picture of fat contentment on my tuk-tuk ride back to the hotel, and wishing to extend the feeling, I went up to the top of the hotel, sat by THAT pool, had a brandy, and watched the light and water show in the neighboring square.
I can't imagine there's a setting more different from the Elephant Valley Project in Cambodia. Of COURSE I liked the Project better, but this was very very good. And though I'd not been much impressed with Phnom Penh at first, now I was feeling sad to leave it.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Second look at Phnom Penh
After a wonderful A/C induced sleep, I woke up contemplating what to do with almost a whole day on my own in Phnom Penh. My flight out was not scheduled to leave until 11:30 p.m. I enjoyed a nice complimentary breakfast at the hotel and made arrangements to have access to my room until 8:30. I knew I did not want to do anything formal--the tuk-tuk drivers would surely take me to any museum, temple, or market that I mentioned, but I had had enough of that sort of thing. I decided I should walk since I would be seated an EXTENSIVE length of time on the trip home, and I figured, well, I won't worry about getting lost. I'll just walk until I'm tired and then summon a tuk-tuk to come back.
I found Phnom Penh rather hard to find my way in. The streets are all numbered, but the same street seems to have different numbers as it progresses through the town. The Mekong River is very helpful as a navigational aid, but it's easy to wander away from it.
I started out walking along the Mekong, which is not particularly scenic, but being the compliant tourist that I am, I took photos.
Here's the murky Mekong itself, not looking as ominous as I expected from my extensive experience with
Apocalypse Now.
And here's something or other looking out over the Mekong.
Here was a sight I REALLY enjoyed. I took it to be the Phnom Penh branch of the Green Bay Packer Hall of Fame.
It was SO HOT! Just walking seemed like an enormous effort, and rather quickly I got to the point
at which if Pol Pot himself magically appeared before my very eyes, I would only have asked him for a cold drink. I trudged around some more, admiring the industriousness of the city people, who always seemed to be extraordinarily busy making a living and then flagged down a tuk-tuk and went back to the ever-welcoming hotel.
I found Phnom Penh rather hard to find my way in. The streets are all numbered, but the same street seems to have different numbers as it progresses through the town. The Mekong River is very helpful as a navigational aid, but it's easy to wander away from it.
I started out walking along the Mekong, which is not particularly scenic, but being the compliant tourist that I am, I took photos.
Here's the murky Mekong itself, not looking as ominous as I expected from my extensive experience with
Apocalypse Now.
And here's something or other looking out over the Mekong.
It was SO HOT! Just walking seemed like an enormous effort, and rather quickly I got to the point
at which if Pol Pot himself magically appeared before my very eyes, I would only have asked him for a cold drink. I trudged around some more, admiring the industriousness of the city people, who always seemed to be extraordinarily busy making a living and then flagged down a tuk-tuk and went back to the ever-welcoming hotel.
Friends
I had agreed to meet Megan and Becca for dinner at a place they'd enjoyed earlier in their travels, and Sue decided to come along despite her jet lag. The four of us met at "Friends," an enterprise with an incredible concept. The idea is to get the street kids of Phnom Penh OFF the streets. Apparently begging IS a lucrative undertaking, at least when a child is cute and little--or even better, handicapped--but that keeps the kids from getting educated or at least skilled, and then when they aren't cute anymore, their begging career screeches to an abrupt halt.
So there are people in Phnom Penh whose goal it is to teach street children skills they CAN use into their adulthood and preferrably skills that will make the city a better place. Hence, Friends. It is first of all a restaurant, where kids learn all aspects of that business. It is not only innovative, but has really interesting and inexpensive food. A very eclectic menu, and it is a feel-good place all the way around.
In addition, there is a craft store where kids are making saleable items, most of it from GARBAGE. Phnom Penh is certainly not the only city in the world plagued with blow-away bags and bottles, but this program figures out things to make of trash. Did I buy any? Of COURSE I bought some.
For example, here is a purse made of pieces of scrap newspaper wrapped very tightly.
Here's a shopping bag that's made out of an EXTREMELY common waste material in Cambodia. It's a RICE BAG!
And here is a necklace made of what looks to be plastic bottle strips wound up into beads.
Sometimes you can even find a bar code peeking through.
Megan and Becca had spent the afternoon scouring the internet for flights to interesting places in Asia to visit in lieu of their second week at the Project. They were thrilled to have found EXTREMELY cheap fares for extremely interesting destinations. They were flying to Bangkok the next day and from there to Singapore. One of these flights cost less than $40, and they said there were flights listed that cost as little as FOUR DOLLARS (though, of course, who knows where they went?)
So it was excited farewells from them, and Sue and I shared a tuk-tuk back to our respective hotels. I was a little envious of her just setting out for the Project and my being at the end of my trip, but any envy I had quickly evaporated when I got to both talk AND instant message with Scott when I arrived at my fabulous hotel. Yes, those modern conveniences--they ARE convenient!
So there are people in Phnom Penh whose goal it is to teach street children skills they CAN use into their adulthood and preferrably skills that will make the city a better place. Hence, Friends. It is first of all a restaurant, where kids learn all aspects of that business. It is not only innovative, but has really interesting and inexpensive food. A very eclectic menu, and it is a feel-good place all the way around.
In addition, there is a craft store where kids are making saleable items, most of it from GARBAGE. Phnom Penh is certainly not the only city in the world plagued with blow-away bags and bottles, but this program figures out things to make of trash. Did I buy any? Of COURSE I bought some.
For example, here is a purse made of pieces of scrap newspaper wrapped very tightly.
Here's a shopping bag that's made out of an EXTREMELY common waste material in Cambodia. It's a RICE BAG!
And here is a necklace made of what looks to be plastic bottle strips wound up into beads.
Sometimes you can even find a bar code peeking through.
Megan and Becca had spent the afternoon scouring the internet for flights to interesting places in Asia to visit in lieu of their second week at the Project. They were thrilled to have found EXTREMELY cheap fares for extremely interesting destinations. They were flying to Bangkok the next day and from there to Singapore. One of these flights cost less than $40, and they said there were flights listed that cost as little as FOUR DOLLARS (though, of course, who knows where they went?)
So it was excited farewells from them, and Sue and I shared a tuk-tuk back to our respective hotels. I was a little envious of her just setting out for the Project and my being at the end of my trip, but any envy I had quickly evaporated when I got to both talk AND instant message with Scott when I arrived at my fabulous hotel. Yes, those modern conveniences--they ARE convenient!
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Evil Spirit/Banana
After taking the world's most rewarding shower, eating my sandwich, drinking my wine, and having a little nap, I was ready to re-acquaint myself with the world. So I went next door to the Three Rivers. I did love the place despite wanting to indulge myself in the upgrade next door. I explained that to Eden, and he was most understanding.
Seated at the bar at the Three Rivers was Sue, an Englishwoman who'd given herself three weeks at the Project as a 50th birthday present [what a great idea!] She was looking forward to her stay there, so of COURSE I had to regale her with my tales of wonder and woe.
My buddy Tom was there, and it was good catching up with him about the preceding two weeks. He even invited me to go play poker with him--competitively--but since I couldn't remember the difference between a flush and a straight--I decided that would be unwise.
Then Jack showed up. His flight for England was due to leave late that afternoon, so he had a little time to kill before leaving for the airport. I introduced him to Sue and got to exchange some chit-chat and hugs before he left for the airport.
I feel like I haven't said enough about Jack. So here goes. Jack's a 28 year old Englishman who got bored working in corporate Britain. He took a holiday to Asia and wound up at an elephant park in Thailand. He loved the elephants and stayed. He came to learn more and more about the suffering of the elephants of southeast Asia and found out that Cambodia was home to a lot of abused and neglected elephants and that there were no facilities there to help them. So he went to Cambodia and began his quest of creating some sort of preserve for them.
Some of the guys at the bar told me that when Jack first showed up in Phnom Penh, they all scoffed at him. Here's this young guy--maybe 21 or so--talking about setting this, this, and this up, and they thought, "Oh, sure." But now they are incredulous; be damned if he didn't DO it!!
He soaks up languages like a sponge and soon became fluent in Cambodia's official language, Khmer. He focused his attention on the tribal peoples of Cambodia and soon became fluent in THEIR language, Bunong. It was funny to learn that at first the Bunong were very uncomfortable around him and not at all receptive to his ideas. He learned that the word "jack" means "evil spirit" in Bunong, which went a long way to explaining their hesitation. He changed the pronunciation of his name for them to "Jake." THAT means "banana" which was much less threatening.
He was very persuasive in negotiating with the Bunong that the Project would provide jobs, some health care, some schooling, and steady income for tribal members in exchange for their allowing their land to be used for the sustenance of Asian elephants. It's my impression that his primary motivation in doing this was at first to help the elephants, but that it evolved over the years to empower the tribal people to live a decent life style, respecting their own traditions, on their own land with dignity and some degree of stability. That turns OUT to be good for the jungle as well, but I don't think that was the intent.
Jack enters into complicated negotiations for the placement of the various elephants at the project. Only three of the elephants are owned outright. The others are the subject of complex arrangements--rentals and leases--that permit them to stay there, hopefully permanently. The tribal people are employed as mahouts and staff at the Project and there is basic medical care provided. The Bunong experience a 50% infant mortality rate, but no babies have died at the project since its inception.
I don't know about you, but if I were 28 years old (or 58 for that matter), I'd feel like I'd accomplished an awful lot with this resume. Jack's a remarkable guy, and I'm lucky to have met him.
Seated at the bar at the Three Rivers was Sue, an Englishwoman who'd given herself three weeks at the Project as a 50th birthday present [what a great idea!] She was looking forward to her stay there, so of COURSE I had to regale her with my tales of wonder and woe.
My buddy Tom was there, and it was good catching up with him about the preceding two weeks. He even invited me to go play poker with him--competitively--but since I couldn't remember the difference between a flush and a straight--I decided that would be unwise.
Then Jack showed up. His flight for England was due to leave late that afternoon, so he had a little time to kill before leaving for the airport. I introduced him to Sue and got to exchange some chit-chat and hugs before he left for the airport.
I feel like I haven't said enough about Jack. So here goes. Jack's a 28 year old Englishman who got bored working in corporate Britain. He took a holiday to Asia and wound up at an elephant park in Thailand. He loved the elephants and stayed. He came to learn more and more about the suffering of the elephants of southeast Asia and found out that Cambodia was home to a lot of abused and neglected elephants and that there were no facilities there to help them. So he went to Cambodia and began his quest of creating some sort of preserve for them.
Some of the guys at the bar told me that when Jack first showed up in Phnom Penh, they all scoffed at him. Here's this young guy--maybe 21 or so--talking about setting this, this, and this up, and they thought, "Oh, sure." But now they are incredulous; be damned if he didn't DO it!!
He soaks up languages like a sponge and soon became fluent in Cambodia's official language, Khmer. He focused his attention on the tribal peoples of Cambodia and soon became fluent in THEIR language, Bunong. It was funny to learn that at first the Bunong were very uncomfortable around him and not at all receptive to his ideas. He learned that the word "jack" means "evil spirit" in Bunong, which went a long way to explaining their hesitation. He changed the pronunciation of his name for them to "Jake." THAT means "banana" which was much less threatening.
He was very persuasive in negotiating with the Bunong that the Project would provide jobs, some health care, some schooling, and steady income for tribal members in exchange for their allowing their land to be used for the sustenance of Asian elephants. It's my impression that his primary motivation in doing this was at first to help the elephants, but that it evolved over the years to empower the tribal people to live a decent life style, respecting their own traditions, on their own land with dignity and some degree of stability. That turns OUT to be good for the jungle as well, but I don't think that was the intent.
Jack enters into complicated negotiations for the placement of the various elephants at the project. Only three of the elephants are owned outright. The others are the subject of complex arrangements--rentals and leases--that permit them to stay there, hopefully permanently. The tribal people are employed as mahouts and staff at the Project and there is basic medical care provided. The Bunong experience a 50% infant mortality rate, but no babies have died at the project since its inception.
I don't know about you, but if I were 28 years old (or 58 for that matter), I'd feel like I'd accomplished an awful lot with this resume. Jack's a remarkable guy, and I'm lucky to have met him.
The Road to Phnom Penh
It was a crazy night at the hotel. Maybe I'd become spoiled by the utter quiet at the Project, but there surely seemed to be an inordinate amount of noise all night long at the hotel--sounded like a
party at which the primary event was out-shouting one another. Later we saw a couple of vans in the parking lot filled with young men in uniform--the likely culprits. I asked Jack who they could be, and he said they were Chinese Army soldiers who worked at a nearby GOLD MINE! Is there ANYTHING ordinary about this country?
I took a couple pictures of my friends Becca and Megan as they gazed out over the parking lot waiting for our pick-up.
So. We loaded ourselves into the car and sped off for Phnom Penh. Mysteriously, the way back was much shorter than the way there had been. I took a number of rather impressionistic photos--not something I was trying to do, but simply a by-product of being a
passenger in a speeding vehicle driven by
someone whose language I don't speak. Not even enough to say "Slow down! I want to take a picture!" As a result, here are some strange pix that TRY to depict the phenomenal deforestation being done by the Chinese. I am positive that at least a couple more MILES of forest immediately adjacent to the highway had gone down just in the two weeks I'd been at the Project. This was once a NATIONAL PARK, but the Cambodian government sold it to the Chinese so that they could clear the jungle and make more rubber plantations. The financial pressure on a country as poverty-stricken as Cambodia is enormous. It's easy to vilify the Chinese, but to be honest, what have we Americans been doing for the last 150 years but exporting OUR catastrophic environmental exploitation, not to mention exporting our equally catastrophic WARS?
This is how a fairly mature rubber plantation looks at 60 mph--well, I was travelling 60 mph. The rubber plantation was more-or-less stationery.
We arrived in Phnom Penh. I'm more than a little embarrassed to admit this, but at this point in my trip I wasn't up for the minimalistic housing available at the Three Rivers. Jack suggested that I "upgrade" to the new hotel next door and helped me get started checking in. Oh my! What a shock!
Picture this hot, sweaty, filthy, tired woman standing at the desk of this ultra-modern BOUTIQUE hotel. That would be me. Here's this extensive hugely eager-to-please staff, crisply uniformed, in a hotel that has been open two WEEKS. That would be the staff of the King Grand Boutique Hotel.
When one of them brought me a glass of freshly-squeezed orange juice over ICE (something I hadn't seen for a couple of weeks), I admit it: I practically wept.
I was escorted to my room and was stunned to find it VERY luxuriously appointed. I was so moved that I just had to take photos of the decadent appointments. Isn't it lovely? And did I mention that the rate for this room was $38.50? That they brought a laptop to my room so I could catch up on my email? That the chef made me a sandwich since they were no longer open for lunch, and that it was accompanied by an ice cold glass of chardonnay? That I had a gorgeous BALCONY?? That they did my LAUNDRY????????
Although I was undecided as to whether I should be feeling guilty, I never appreciated being pampered so very much.
party at which the primary event was out-shouting one another. Later we saw a couple of vans in the parking lot filled with young men in uniform--the likely culprits. I asked Jack who they could be, and he said they were Chinese Army soldiers who worked at a nearby GOLD MINE! Is there ANYTHING ordinary about this country?I took a couple pictures of my friends Becca and Megan as they gazed out over the parking lot waiting for our pick-up.
So. We loaded ourselves into the car and sped off for Phnom Penh. Mysteriously, the way back was much shorter than the way there had been. I took a number of rather impressionistic photos--not something I was trying to do, but simply a by-product of being a
passenger in a speeding vehicle driven by
We arrived in Phnom Penh. I'm more than a little embarrassed to admit this, but at this point in my trip I wasn't up for the minimalistic housing available at the Three Rivers. Jack suggested that I "upgrade" to the new hotel next door and helped me get started checking in. Oh my! What a shock!
Picture this hot, sweaty, filthy, tired woman standing at the desk of this ultra-modern BOUTIQUE hotel. That would be me. Here's this extensive hugely eager-to-please staff, crisply uniformed, in a hotel that has been open two WEEKS. That would be the staff of the King Grand Boutique Hotel.
When one of them brought me a glass of freshly-squeezed orange juice over ICE (something I hadn't seen for a couple of weeks), I admit it: I practically wept.
Although I was undecided as to whether I should be feeling guilty, I never appreciated being pampered so very much.
Friday, July 22, 2011
Back to Sen Menorom and Decidedly Not Bored
It was time for us to give our best wishes to the bride and groom and the other guests and head into Sen Menorom. Megan, Becca, and I got dropped off at the same nice hotel we'd stayed in the previous week, and we all took luxurious showers and returned to the Green House, where, again, I was greeted like a long lost relative. Again, I cannot over-emphasize the generous friendliness of these people. Thea was there and told me about his worries over his dad being in a motorbike accident and getting quite badly hurt but not seeing a doctor. Drinks were quickly served, and the computer quickly put to use to get back in touch with home.
We all decided to take Jemma out for a nice meal, since it was time to say good-bye to her as well, and so we went to the Khmer Kitchen Restaurant, where we had a most eclectic dinner. I had Khmer burritos (international enough for you?) and we shared lots of laughs.
I didn't find saying good bye to Jemma laughable though. I felt like we'd become good friends in a short time. I had so much respect for her too. It amazed me that she was confident enough to wade into the Project with an 18-month commitment. She is doing a graduate degree in something like tourist management and had been a tourist at the Project a couple of times. She loves it there, so she applied for a grant from her native Australia to do a graduate project there, focusing on the tourist aspect of the Project, and got it. What a win-win situation that was!
After my two weeks at the Project, I simply cannot imagine how Jack ever managed it without Jemma's help. He clearly had NO free time and more than enough responsibility to wear anybody down. And Jemma is clearly in her element, cheerful and energetic, warm and friendly, and consistently exemplifying an over-riding concern for the elephants' AND the local people's well-being.
And she was great company--fabulous sense of humor and lots of reliable commonsense. NOTHING seemed to shake her, not even the prospect of running the place on her own for more than two weeks while Jack and Brigitte went back to Europe.
If you've been following this blog, you've heard Jemma's 'Stralian voice frequently and seen her often. Here she is talking about Bob and Onion's travails. I think you'll see why I will miss her.
And if you would like to hear more from her, she too is keeping a blog, In the Footsteps of Elephants (jemmabullock.wordpress.com)
We all decided to take Jemma out for a nice meal, since it was time to say good-bye to her as well, and so we went to the Khmer Kitchen Restaurant, where we had a most eclectic dinner. I had Khmer burritos (international enough for you?) and we shared lots of laughs.
I didn't find saying good bye to Jemma laughable though. I felt like we'd become good friends in a short time. I had so much respect for her too. It amazed me that she was confident enough to wade into the Project with an 18-month commitment. She is doing a graduate degree in something like tourist management and had been a tourist at the Project a couple of times. She loves it there, so she applied for a grant from her native Australia to do a graduate project there, focusing on the tourist aspect of the Project, and got it. What a win-win situation that was!
After my two weeks at the Project, I simply cannot imagine how Jack ever managed it without Jemma's help. He clearly had NO free time and more than enough responsibility to wear anybody down. And Jemma is clearly in her element, cheerful and energetic, warm and friendly, and consistently exemplifying an over-riding concern for the elephants' AND the local people's well-being.
And she was great company--fabulous sense of humor and lots of reliable commonsense. NOTHING seemed to shake her, not even the prospect of running the place on her own for more than two weeks while Jack and Brigitte went back to Europe.
If you've been following this blog, you've heard Jemma's 'Stralian voice frequently and seen her often. Here she is talking about Bob and Onion's travails. I think you'll see why I will miss her.
And if you would like to hear more from her, she too is keeping a blog, In the Footsteps of Elephants (jemmabullock.wordpress.com)
Notable Events From the Wedding
You know how weddings are. There is just so MUCH going on, it's hard in retrospect to remember every little detail. Two things really stand out for me.
I am not sure why I'm so fascinated with the involvement that some of my loved ones had in the Vietnam War. Scott's refusal to go with me to Cambodia had started out appearing to me like something whimsical, but I wound up criticizing myself for being so insensitive to the effects the war had on him. He was literally SCARED for me while I was there, and no amount of reassurances about the current peaceful state of affairs could change that. We WERE only a few miles from the Vietnam border, and Jack told me that the central highlands of Vietnam were very similar to where we were in the hills of Mondulkiri. Scott later said maybe that had been at one time, but a countryside that's been totally defoliated has a somewhat different feel to it. Oh.
But at the WEDDING, Jack showed me some bomb craters. BOMB craters! My brother Paul had already told me that he recalled being involved in heavy bombing of that area in Cambodia when he was a B-52 pilot during the war. He had given me a soft sell job, joking that it would be a little ironic if I got blown up by unexploded ordinance he had left there (he has SUCH a sense of humor, that brother of mine!)
THIS, however, was uncomfortably real. The craters were about 20 feet long by 12 feet wide, and I'd say about 10 feet or so deep. The "locals" had made great use of them by planting gardens in the bottom, where water is plentiful even in the dry season. Paul said he was happy to have given them some agricultural assistance.
There was a gentleman at the reception who remembered the war well. He is a member of the Bunong tribe who had lived in the same area for at least 100's of years. When the bombing came, the tribe moved several miles west to get out of the way. But as soon as it stopped, they moved back and have lived there ever since. I was amazed at the equanimity with which he spoke about this--no sign of anger, resentment, or bitterness (unlike my husband).
I was also amazed at how well Jack could communicate in native Bunong language. Here, as Becca looks on, he is conversing with "Granny" about stuff, I don't know what.
On a much happier note, the other notable event was meeting the father of the bride. Pleasant guy . . . . . . . something oddly familiar about his garb . . . . . why, holy ghost of Vince Lombardi! He IS wearing a Green Bay Packer Hall of Fame tee shirt. Check it out! GO PACK GO!!!
I am not sure why I'm so fascinated with the involvement that some of my loved ones had in the Vietnam War. Scott's refusal to go with me to Cambodia had started out appearing to me like something whimsical, but I wound up criticizing myself for being so insensitive to the effects the war had on him. He was literally SCARED for me while I was there, and no amount of reassurances about the current peaceful state of affairs could change that. We WERE only a few miles from the Vietnam border, and Jack told me that the central highlands of Vietnam were very similar to where we were in the hills of Mondulkiri. Scott later said maybe that had been at one time, but a countryside that's been totally defoliated has a somewhat different feel to it. Oh.
But at the WEDDING, Jack showed me some bomb craters. BOMB craters! My brother Paul had already told me that he recalled being involved in heavy bombing of that area in Cambodia when he was a B-52 pilot during the war. He had given me a soft sell job, joking that it would be a little ironic if I got blown up by unexploded ordinance he had left there (he has SUCH a sense of humor, that brother of mine!)
THIS, however, was uncomfortably real. The craters were about 20 feet long by 12 feet wide, and I'd say about 10 feet or so deep. The "locals" had made great use of them by planting gardens in the bottom, where water is plentiful even in the dry season. Paul said he was happy to have given them some agricultural assistance.
There was a gentleman at the reception who remembered the war well. He is a member of the Bunong tribe who had lived in the same area for at least 100's of years. When the bombing came, the tribe moved several miles west to get out of the way. But as soon as it stopped, they moved back and have lived there ever since. I was amazed at the equanimity with which he spoke about this--no sign of anger, resentment, or bitterness (unlike my husband).
I was also amazed at how well Jack could communicate in native Bunong language. Here, as Becca looks on, he is conversing with "Granny" about stuff, I don't know what.
On a much happier note, the other notable event was meeting the father of the bride. Pleasant guy . . . . . . . something oddly familiar about his garb . . . . . why, holy ghost of Vince Lombardi! He IS wearing a Green Bay Packer Hall of Fame tee shirt. Check it out! GO PACK GO!!!
Wedding Day in Mondulkiri
We all packed up our gear and lugged it up, up, and up the long steep driveway to where the beat up old truck was parked (the nightly rains made the driveway simply too slippery to negotiate). The sweat was really pouring until Jack came by on his motorbike and carried my big bag the rest of the way.
Good thing! I didn't want to ruin my wedding apparel. I hadn't packed any good clothes, but I figured cheerful colors would suit. We loaded up the truck and, looking much like the Beverly Hillbillies, headed to the village.
The wedding reception was like wedding receptions all over the world. There were the out-going guests who mingled relentlessly. There were mad relatives (apparently a Khmer-Bunong wedding is frowned upon). There were people who found a favorite friend, plunked themselves down, and talked exclusively to that person. There was the groom feeling out of place and uncomfortable. There were kids circulating around amazed at all the alcohol being consumed by the adults and equally amazed (and a little scared) by Xerex. There was lots of drinking and lots of music.
There were also a few differences. For example, it IS the first wedding I've been to where a couple of baby pigs were sacrificed. I've almost never seen wedding music performed exclusively on gongs.
Gong Show from Northpith on Vimeo.
AND I'd never been to a wedding where nearby there were bomb craters. To say nothing of the bride who'd selected a "hello kitty" outfit for the occasion.
The pigs alone were a cause of high excitement. I'd seen a couple of sows shuffling around in the yard--obviously mothers--but had only heard rumors of the baby pigs. When I heard one squealing, I thought somebody had caught one for the children to pet. So I wandered toward the squealing with my camera and was closing in for some cute piglet/children pix when I abruptly realized that something very different was taking place! As you can well imagine, I did NOT photograph THAT event! I also managed to gracefully avoid tasting the blood pudding that was being passed around later.
Good thing! I didn't want to ruin my wedding apparel. I hadn't packed any good clothes, but I figured cheerful colors would suit. We loaded up the truck and, looking much like the Beverly Hillbillies, headed to the village.
The wedding reception was like wedding receptions all over the world. There were the out-going guests who mingled relentlessly. There were mad relatives (apparently a Khmer-Bunong wedding is frowned upon). There were people who found a favorite friend, plunked themselves down, and talked exclusively to that person. There was the groom feeling out of place and uncomfortable. There were kids circulating around amazed at all the alcohol being consumed by the adults and equally amazed (and a little scared) by Xerex. There was lots of drinking and lots of music.
There were also a few differences. For example, it IS the first wedding I've been to where a couple of baby pigs were sacrificed. I've almost never seen wedding music performed exclusively on gongs.
Gong Show from Northpith on Vimeo.
AND I'd never been to a wedding where nearby there were bomb craters. To say nothing of the bride who'd selected a "hello kitty" outfit for the occasion.
The pigs alone were a cause of high excitement. I'd seen a couple of sows shuffling around in the yard--obviously mothers--but had only heard rumors of the baby pigs. When I heard one squealing, I thought somebody had caught one for the children to pet. So I wandered toward the squealing with my camera and was closing in for some cute piglet/children pix when I abruptly realized that something very different was taking place! As you can well imagine, I did NOT photograph THAT event! I also managed to gracefully avoid tasting the blood pudding that was being passed around later.
Last Day at the Project
The last day at the Project was to be cut short by HUGE festivities. Tul, the Project's Khmer chef, and the gracious Bunong woman who assists him (whose name I regrettably just can't "get" ) have invited us to their wedding party in the afternoon!
So, good-byes to the elephants will have to be condensed into one morning's constraints. We were joined by two women--day-only volunteers--both Americans who are doing NGO work in Phnom Penh and are vacationing in Mondulkiri. Hugely well-educated, friendly, and adventuresome.
We started off with the Big Four munching on the banana leaves left over from our huge transporting project earlier in the week. Here they are---munch, munch, munch. Any chance you're starting to recognize them? That's short, chunky Easy I'm petting, sad-eyed Happy is on the left, and that's Buffy on the right disemboweling a banana leaf.
We then followed them into an area of the Project I had not seen before. Very heavily wooded on a very steep hillside, and it was a splendid sunny day--maybe the driest I'd seen there. Take a look.
Many of my friends joked that I'd probably be bringing an elephant home with me. It would have been Buffy if I could have. But the truth of the matter is I'm 100% confident that Buffy (and the others) are in the very best place they could be. They have the absolute maximum freedom they possibly can have in the modern world. They are cared for diligently, expertly, and, yes, Jack, lovingly. And seriously, have you ever seen more contented-looking elephants?
I had a big lump in my throat when I patted Buffy for the last time and took this photo to commemorate the occasion. Did I mention that Buffy and I are the same age? Well, here's a shot of 58-year-old flesh (mine) on 58-year-old flesh (Buffy's).
It's hard for me to talk about my feelings for animals without sounding like a sentimental fool, especially when I'm well aware that there could be readers out there who do not share anything like those feelings. I can't pretend that I had a special bond with Buffy or any of the other elephants, but I can't over-emphasize how flattered and touched I was to be accepted and trusted by these animals who had suffered so very much at human hands.
The wedding will just have to wait until next blog. In the meantime, put on your party hats!
So, good-byes to the elephants will have to be condensed into one morning's constraints. We were joined by two women--day-only volunteers--both Americans who are doing NGO work in Phnom Penh and are vacationing in Mondulkiri. Hugely well-educated, friendly, and adventuresome.
We started off with the Big Four munching on the banana leaves left over from our huge transporting project earlier in the week. Here they are---munch, munch, munch. Any chance you're starting to recognize them? That's short, chunky Easy I'm petting, sad-eyed Happy is on the left, and that's Buffy on the right disemboweling a banana leaf.
Many of my friends joked that I'd probably be bringing an elephant home with me. It would have been Buffy if I could have. But the truth of the matter is I'm 100% confident that Buffy (and the others) are in the very best place they could be. They have the absolute maximum freedom they possibly can have in the modern world. They are cared for diligently, expertly, and, yes, Jack, lovingly. And seriously, have you ever seen more contented-looking elephants?I had a big lump in my throat when I patted Buffy for the last time and took this photo to commemorate the occasion. Did I mention that Buffy and I are the same age? Well, here's a shot of 58-year-old flesh (mine) on 58-year-old flesh (Buffy's).
It's hard for me to talk about my feelings for animals without sounding like a sentimental fool, especially when I'm well aware that there could be readers out there who do not share anything like those feelings. I can't pretend that I had a special bond with Buffy or any of the other elephants, but I can't over-emphasize how flattered and touched I was to be accepted and trusted by these animals who had suffered so very much at human hands.The wedding will just have to wait until next blog. In the meantime, put on your party hats!
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Early Onset, Nostalgia
On Thursday, as is my custom, I began to absorb the fact that I was approaching the end of my stay at the Project, so immediately I started feeling nostalgic. The symptoms of that nostalgia in my case are excessive use of camera and feverish drawing and a perception (OK, MAYBE a MISperception) that EVERY little thing is important and of course must be recorded.
So here are a (mercifully reduced) selection of photos from Thursday.
This was my muzzie net-covered bed. The net successfully (I think) kept all bugs at bay for the duration. Sure, it had some holes in it. Some previous guests had repaired some of them with band-aids, but not me. I had brought needle and thread with me, as instructed, and sewed them up. If I do get malaria, it will be the result of my extraordinarily poor sewing skills.
I loved the grass roof of my little house. It smelled absolutely wonderful, like sweetgrass back home. Despite heavy rains almost every night, and sometimes during the day, no rain ever fell in my house, and all the Charlottes seemed snug and dry. After a pleasant encounter my first night, my household gecko never showed itself again, though at night I frequently heard its "chuck-chuck-chuck-chuck," hopefully as it pursued tarantulas.
I spent the day alone with the mahouts sketching and photographing the Big Four--genial Gee-Nowl and roly-poly Easy River and my favorites Buffy and sad sad looking Happy Lucky.
In the afternoon Jack returned from Phnom Penh feeling well enough to prepare for his flight home to England on Saturday.
And so 4:30 brought the last bath time with the Big Four. I don't think I will ever tire of watching this video, uneventful as it is, and I hope you can experience some of the serenity, camaderie, and well-being it brings to me!
10 Minutes of Elephant Washing from Northpith on Vimeo.
So here are a (mercifully reduced) selection of photos from Thursday.
This was my muzzie net-covered bed. The net successfully (I think) kept all bugs at bay for the duration. Sure, it had some holes in it. Some previous guests had repaired some of them with band-aids, but not me. I had brought needle and thread with me, as instructed, and sewed them up. If I do get malaria, it will be the result of my extraordinarily poor sewing skills.
I loved the grass roof of my little house. It smelled absolutely wonderful, like sweetgrass back home. Despite heavy rains almost every night, and sometimes during the day, no rain ever fell in my house, and all the Charlottes seemed snug and dry. After a pleasant encounter my first night, my household gecko never showed itself again, though at night I frequently heard its "chuck-chuck-chuck-chuck," hopefully as it pursued tarantulas.
I spent the day alone with the mahouts sketching and photographing the Big Four--genial Gee-Nowl and roly-poly Easy River and my favorites Buffy and sad sad looking Happy Lucky.In the afternoon Jack returned from Phnom Penh feeling well enough to prepare for his flight home to England on Saturday.
And so 4:30 brought the last bath time with the Big Four. I don't think I will ever tire of watching this video, uneventful as it is, and I hope you can experience some of the serenity, camaderie, and well-being it brings to me!
10 Minutes of Elephant Washing from Northpith on Vimeo.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
A routine sets in belatedly
In the morning Patrik and Katte left. I had really enjoyed their company and was sorry to see them go. One of the reasons is that so few men volunteer here. I'd like to think I'm doing some good work, but I can think of any number of guys back home--Kurt? Wayne? Marc? Charlie?--who could contribute so much more to the place with their skills and strengths. The fact is, however, that most of the people who want to come here are soft-hearted animal-loving WOMEN. And now, so soon, after moving so many banana trees so quickly and without regard to so many bugs, Patrik was gone.
Another guy showed up though, this time a Brit named Mark from Newcastle, and he too was prepared to work hard and to enjoy Tul's cooking! Megan and I spent the morning sketching Buffy and Happy Lucky, with the following results, and I spent the afternoon scrubbing the mold off a bamboo wall in a new building on the Project's grounds in preparation for it to be varnished.
It was not a day of noteworthy events--no runaway elephants or banana buying expeditions, but yet a thoroughly good day that left me with time to contemplate some of the previously unstated features of this place.
For example, there are monkeys here--gibbons and what Jemma called "shanks," apparently black shanked douc langurs if my extensive two-minute internet research is correct. We never see them. They are very shy. I keep scanning the treetops in the valley thinking I will see one, but no luck. Of course, it doesn't help that I can't wear my glasses since they slide down my nose so constantly they are more of a bother than anything else. So I don't wear them.
There are also these huge cicadas who have a voice that sounds--no exaggeration--like an air raid siren. Incredibly loud and piercing. And then there is a bird, again heard but not seen, that continuously sings, "When the caissons go rolling, go rolling, go rolling" and, maddeningly, NEVER completes the phrase.
Really, not very many birds considering what seems to be a highly bird-friendly environment. Jack told me, and I'm not sure whether he was kidding [as is frequently the case around Jack], that the local people eat anything that remotely resembles protein, including birds. Jemma told of a recent incident in which the cleaners found a rat in one of the houses and asked her for help. She opened the door and proceeded to attempt to chase the rat out. The cleaners had a different idea and CLOSED the door, CAUGHT the rat, and you can guess what they had for lunch that day.
This was the kind of quiet day I like. I feel so much more comfortable now than during my first week. Megan and Becca have decided to leave after only one week rather than the two they'd booked. The bugs are too much, and they're ready to move on, they say. They generously offered me their week, so I could have stayed a third week for no extra cost. Tempting as the offer is, I'm looking forward to going home.
Another guy showed up though, this time a Brit named Mark from Newcastle, and he too was prepared to work hard and to enjoy Tul's cooking! Megan and I spent the morning sketching Buffy and Happy Lucky, with the following results, and I spent the afternoon scrubbing the mold off a bamboo wall in a new building on the Project's grounds in preparation for it to be varnished.It was not a day of noteworthy events--no runaway elephants or banana buying expeditions, but yet a thoroughly good day that left me with time to contemplate some of the previously unstated features of this place.
For example, there are monkeys here--gibbons and what Jemma called "shanks," apparently black shanked douc langurs if my extensive two-minute internet research is correct. We never see them. They are very shy. I keep scanning the treetops in the valley thinking I will see one, but no luck. Of course, it doesn't help that I can't wear my glasses since they slide down my nose so constantly they are more of a bother than anything else. So I don't wear them.
Really, not very many birds considering what seems to be a highly bird-friendly environment. Jack told me, and I'm not sure whether he was kidding [as is frequently the case around Jack], that the local people eat anything that remotely resembles protein, including birds. Jemma told of a recent incident in which the cleaners found a rat in one of the houses and asked her for help. She opened the door and proceeded to attempt to chase the rat out. The cleaners had a different idea and CLOSED the door, CAUGHT the rat, and you can guess what they had for lunch that day.
This was the kind of quiet day I like. I feel so much more comfortable now than during my first week. Megan and Becca have decided to leave after only one week rather than the two they'd booked. The bugs are too much, and they're ready to move on, they say. They generously offered me their week, so I could have stayed a third week for no extra cost. Tempting as the offer is, I'm looking forward to going home.
Ja, wir haben bananas
There are apparently several entrepreneurs in Sen Menorom who drive tourists out to the Project so they can spend a day with the elephants and/or volunteering. I'm not sure what the arrangements are, but I got the impression that if one agrees to work a half-day that they get their meals and housing at a reduced rate.
But in any event, Tuesday morning brought a pair of one-day-only guests Patrik and Katte from Germany. They both spoke embarrassingly good English (embarrassing because, despite three years of studying German in high school, I'm still not at all sure whether I even got the title of this blog right!)
They were a delightful young couple. Katte is serene, self-contained, and pleasant, and Patrik is filled with nervous energy and curiosity.
They were certainly up for the morning's activities, which was . . . a banana-buying trip to neighboring farms. What an adventure this was! Jack was still in Phnom Penh, so Jemma drove his fabulously beat up truck with all of us volunteers, plus Xerex the Great Dane, clinging to it somehow FAR back into the woods.
It reminded me fondly of the old days when I would be bouncing through the woods at home with my dad, and he would tell me to get out of the truck and see if I could find the road!
There were times during this banana-shopping excursion when we did in fact lose track of the "road." Plus, the ground, being pure red clay, was wet and slippery, the terrain was sometimes steep, and Jemma was unfamiliar with the foibles of the truck. ALTHOUGH, I must add, Jemma is clearly no amateur when it comes to driving in non-urban settings. She comes from a rural area in Australia and obviously knows her way around a rough road. And she tackles everything with cheerful gusto, including paths that are roads in name only.
Jemma thought we were picking up 75 young banana plants for planting at the Project and was surprised to hear from the farmers that Jack had ordered 200 plants! The farmers had already dug them up and they were waiting for us, each from 3 to 8 feet high and ranging from 1 inch to 4 inches in diameter. It was apparent that no elephant at the Project was going to be dehydrated for some time.
We all fixed our minds on NOT thinking about spiders, scorpions, and snakes, and loaded all the plants into the truck. The farmers thought we were quite amusing [or at least I CONCLUDE they did. Maybe it's just that Cambodians laugh much of the time, or at least when we can't speak their language] and were happy to show us their farms and let us make faces at their children. Both Becca and Megan are really good with children and draw them like magnets. A sweaty good time was had by all, and somehow the 200 plants and all of us managed to get back to the Project.
No photos of this excursion, regrettably. It was too labor intensive to even carry a camera.
In the afternoon, we all set out with the Big Four, and two of the elephants suddenly developed a plan to visit the OTHER valley, where the OTHER five elephants hang out, the place called "Heaven." At first you don't really notice that an elephant is "running away." All they do is head in a specific direction and keep ambling in that direction. But they progress at a far faster rate than you'd expect, and before we knew it, the mahouts were running after them shouting "Eng! Eng!" with much the same effect as when I say "Down" to Aramis--that is, none. Eventually, with much cajoling and ear-pulling, they got them under control. For your edification, this is what a runaway elephant looks like:
We rewarded their reluctant obedience with especially nice baths and had time for a brief clean up ourselves--the need for which, incidentally, CANNOT be overstated--before another of Tul's outstanding dinners, accompanied by my own concoction, a jungle cocktail made of grapefruit-flavored electrolytes dissolved in bottled water and VODKA. You betcha.
But in any event, Tuesday morning brought a pair of one-day-only guests Patrik and Katte from Germany. They both spoke embarrassingly good English (embarrassing because, despite three years of studying German in high school, I'm still not at all sure whether I even got the title of this blog right!)
They were a delightful young couple. Katte is serene, self-contained, and pleasant, and Patrik is filled with nervous energy and curiosity.
They were certainly up for the morning's activities, which was . . . a banana-buying trip to neighboring farms. What an adventure this was! Jack was still in Phnom Penh, so Jemma drove his fabulously beat up truck with all of us volunteers, plus Xerex the Great Dane, clinging to it somehow FAR back into the woods.
It reminded me fondly of the old days when I would be bouncing through the woods at home with my dad, and he would tell me to get out of the truck and see if I could find the road!
There were times during this banana-shopping excursion when we did in fact lose track of the "road." Plus, the ground, being pure red clay, was wet and slippery, the terrain was sometimes steep, and Jemma was unfamiliar with the foibles of the truck. ALTHOUGH, I must add, Jemma is clearly no amateur when it comes to driving in non-urban settings. She comes from a rural area in Australia and obviously knows her way around a rough road. And she tackles everything with cheerful gusto, including paths that are roads in name only.
Jemma thought we were picking up 75 young banana plants for planting at the Project and was surprised to hear from the farmers that Jack had ordered 200 plants! The farmers had already dug them up and they were waiting for us, each from 3 to 8 feet high and ranging from 1 inch to 4 inches in diameter. It was apparent that no elephant at the Project was going to be dehydrated for some time.
We all fixed our minds on NOT thinking about spiders, scorpions, and snakes, and loaded all the plants into the truck. The farmers thought we were quite amusing [or at least I CONCLUDE they did. Maybe it's just that Cambodians laugh much of the time, or at least when we can't speak their language] and were happy to show us their farms and let us make faces at their children. Both Becca and Megan are really good with children and draw them like magnets. A sweaty good time was had by all, and somehow the 200 plants and all of us managed to get back to the Project.
No photos of this excursion, regrettably. It was too labor intensive to even carry a camera.
In the afternoon, we all set out with the Big Four, and two of the elephants suddenly developed a plan to visit the OTHER valley, where the OTHER five elephants hang out, the place called "Heaven." At first you don't really notice that an elephant is "running away." All they do is head in a specific direction and keep ambling in that direction. But they progress at a far faster rate than you'd expect, and before we knew it, the mahouts were running after them shouting "Eng! Eng!" with much the same effect as when I say "Down" to Aramis--that is, none. Eventually, with much cajoling and ear-pulling, they got them under control. For your edification, this is what a runaway elephant looks like:
We rewarded their reluctant obedience with especially nice baths and had time for a brief clean up ourselves--the need for which, incidentally, CANNOT be overstated--before another of Tul's outstanding dinners, accompanied by my own concoction, a jungle cocktail made of grapefruit-flavored electrolytes dissolved in bottled water and VODKA. You betcha.
Monday, July 18, 2011
A stab at meditation in Mondulkiri
If much the same thing hadn't happened to me, it would have been funny to see Becca go from a supremely confident young woman to a scared little girl in the span of a few minutes. All it took was one look at the spiders living in their little house, and both Becca and Megan were virtually in tears. I kept hearing screams coming up the hillside from their house to mine.
Now. I can't claim that the spiders give me warm fuzzies either, especially since Jack casually mentioned to me in passing that some of them are tarantulas. They ARE large and creepy and omni-present. Their eyes DO glow most eerily. However, I got used to checking under the toilet seat before each use to see if anyone was lurking there. I decided to forego washing my hands when one was in my sink. If I DID have to get up in the night to go to the bathroom (and I reduced my fluid intake to avoid that necessity), I took a flashlight and simply bypassed any spiders who happened to be on the floor. And of course, as you know, I called them all "Charlotte." But it IS true that they simply did not terrify me to the extent that they terrified both Becca and Megan.
They were not consoled by the consistently wonderful meals Tul gave us. The whole fried fish he served up was among the best fish I've ever eaten, and the freshwater prawns and the stuffed squid? Marvelous! What DID give them some consolation was the short squat pleasant "little" elephant named Easy Rider.
All of the elephants seem to form friendships with one or more of the others, and Easy is "best friends"--sounds like second grade, doesn't it?--with Gee-Nowl. I spent Monday morning with these two, and a very rewarding morning it was. Perhaps it's vanity, but it sure seemed to me that both remembered me from my hanging around the previous week, and while they were grazing, both approached me and made that wonderfully content purring sound I came to love so much. We all would say "butter butter butter" to each other and feel better for having done so.
I'm going to take the risk of sounding pretty crazy here, but as I sat on the ground watching these two graze and sketching them, I was overcome with a sense of well-being. I was reminded of MANY years ago--when I was having a crisis-filled senior year at college--that I had an obviously memorable dream, in which I was in a field of grazing horses. The horses were all content and I felt truly companionable with them, and they were all fat, and they were all the same pleasant shade of brown.
It was jarring to look around and find myself right smack in the middle of my old dream, only it wasn't fat brown horses, it was fat brown elephants. And it was pleasant. OK, OK . . . I know.
I was so moved I thought well, maybe THIS is the time I should take up meditation and see if I can capture this feeling of amazing calm well-being, so I sat there on the grass and tried LIKE HELL to rid my mind of all the external crap. All of 15 seconds into this endeavor, of all things, a CHAINSAW started in the distance!
I tried to take it in as simply part of the country and its burgeoning economy struggling to get going, but I failed totally and wound up angry and worried. So much for meditation!
But anyway, here are the day's sketches:
And here is the video I took that morning which is my favorite from the whole trip. Please view full screen if you can.
A Visit from Gee Nowl from Northpith on Vimeo.
Now. I can't claim that the spiders give me warm fuzzies either, especially since Jack casually mentioned to me in passing that some of them are tarantulas. They ARE large and creepy and omni-present. Their eyes DO glow most eerily. However, I got used to checking under the toilet seat before each use to see if anyone was lurking there. I decided to forego washing my hands when one was in my sink. If I DID have to get up in the night to go to the bathroom (and I reduced my fluid intake to avoid that necessity), I took a flashlight and simply bypassed any spiders who happened to be on the floor. And of course, as you know, I called them all "Charlotte." But it IS true that they simply did not terrify me to the extent that they terrified both Becca and Megan.
They were not consoled by the consistently wonderful meals Tul gave us. The whole fried fish he served up was among the best fish I've ever eaten, and the freshwater prawns and the stuffed squid? Marvelous! What DID give them some consolation was the short squat pleasant "little" elephant named Easy Rider.
All of the elephants seem to form friendships with one or more of the others, and Easy is "best friends"--sounds like second grade, doesn't it?--with Gee-Nowl. I spent Monday morning with these two, and a very rewarding morning it was. Perhaps it's vanity, but it sure seemed to me that both remembered me from my hanging around the previous week, and while they were grazing, both approached me and made that wonderfully content purring sound I came to love so much. We all would say "butter butter butter" to each other and feel better for having done so.
I'm going to take the risk of sounding pretty crazy here, but as I sat on the ground watching these two graze and sketching them, I was overcome with a sense of well-being. I was reminded of MANY years ago--when I was having a crisis-filled senior year at college--that I had an obviously memorable dream, in which I was in a field of grazing horses. The horses were all content and I felt truly companionable with them, and they were all fat, and they were all the same pleasant shade of brown.
It was jarring to look around and find myself right smack in the middle of my old dream, only it wasn't fat brown horses, it was fat brown elephants. And it was pleasant. OK, OK . . . I know.
I was so moved I thought well, maybe THIS is the time I should take up meditation and see if I can capture this feeling of amazing calm well-being, so I sat there on the grass and tried LIKE HELL to rid my mind of all the external crap. All of 15 seconds into this endeavor, of all things, a CHAINSAW started in the distance!
I tried to take it in as simply part of the country and its burgeoning economy struggling to get going, but I failed totally and wound up angry and worried. So much for meditation!
But anyway, here are the day's sketches:
And here is the video I took that morning which is my favorite from the whole trip. Please view full screen if you can.
A Visit from Gee Nowl from Northpith on Vimeo.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
No More Boredom in Sen Menorom
Sunday morning found me enjoying a strong cup of Mondulkiri coffee and some bread with my old friends at the Green House, in beautiful downtown Sen Menorom. Now, why on EARTH did I fail to take a photo of this fine establishment? It has a wonderful open air jungly feel to it, featuring bamboo floors and plants all over, and good Khmer food, and French fries that taste incredible to one who's eaten Khmer food for more than a week. But its most important feature is the remarkable friendliness of the staff; on your second visit, you're greeted like a long lost friend.
One of those good friends, Thea, was waiting for me with his motorbike. Perhaps I should mention that Jack had specifically warned me AGAINST taking a motorbike ride (feeling, I suppose, with some justification, that my balance left something to be desired) but after meeting Thea, I decided to disregard his warning. That was a great decision.
I've never been on a motorbike before (or even a motorcycle) and I did not expect it to be so very exhilarating. After so much hot humidity, it was so refreshing to get the wind in my face. We drove about 20 miles, I think, to Bausra Falls, which I believe Thea said were the largest waterfalls in Cambodia. It was mostly deep rutted clay roads there, and mostly heavily-wooded scenery.
On the path to the falls, these two gentlemen were playing these strange instruments, sort of guitar-type of things with gourds for sounding boards and . . . . . well, here they are playing the melody that has hardly left my head since I heard it. Notice that children are children everywhere, and this one looks on the verge of death by boredom.
OK, so maybe they're not the most ANIMATED musicians since Mick Jagger, but, still, . . . .
By this time, Thea decided (rightly) that I was pretty inept at using my own camera, so he took over camera duties for the rest of the trip. He is therefore to be credited with these great pix of Bausra Falls, which were really beautiful. There are two falls separated by perhaps 200 yards of user-friendly shallows.
Thea told me this sign said something like "Look out! Slippery! Steep drop off."
And here I am, looking out at the slippery steep drop off.
One of those good friends, Thea, was waiting for me with his motorbike. Perhaps I should mention that Jack had specifically warned me AGAINST taking a motorbike ride (feeling, I suppose, with some justification, that my balance left something to be desired) but after meeting Thea, I decided to disregard his warning. That was a great decision.
I've never been on a motorbike before (or even a motorcycle) and I did not expect it to be so very exhilarating. After so much hot humidity, it was so refreshing to get the wind in my face. We drove about 20 miles, I think, to Bausra Falls, which I believe Thea said were the largest waterfalls in Cambodia. It was mostly deep rutted clay roads there, and mostly heavily-wooded scenery.
 |
| Hear the dulcet tones by clicking here. |
OK, so maybe they're not the most ANIMATED musicians since Mick Jagger, but, still, . . . .
Thea told me this sign said something like "Look out! Slippery! Steep drop off."
And here I am, looking out at the slippery steep drop off.
And THEN we had lunch
So much happened in the morning that it's going to take a second blog entry to finish out the day. I can't remember the last time so much happened in my life that I needed more than a paragraph to tell about it, much less TWO blog entries. Here goes.
After Thea (pronounced, by the way, TEEah) and I left the falls, he drove me to a little Bunong farm nearby. He had somehow gotten the idea that I was interested in all things agricultural and was intent on showing me stuff that was growing . We first went to this lovely little farm; we simply pulled into their yard and Thea started taking pictures. No one seemed the least bit surprised or disconcerted by our stopping in, and they seemed to have no reservations about us looking around.
There is a special kind of rice that grows on high ground here. Apparently the rainy season provides enough water for it to flourish without paddies. Here's some, which is, as you can see, interplanted with corn.
And when it's drying, it's reminiscent of a harvest of wild rice drying back home.
This woman was making, of all things, DOG food (and for those of you smart alecks out there, it's NOT Cambodia where they eat dogs. That's KOREA!!!)
These two women were taking some fruit and vegetables to market and were most obliging about having their pictures taken. Some of their produce looked familiar (like the bananas) but most did not.
From the farm, Thea and I went to a coffee plantation. I had never seen coffee actually growing before and somehow had never imagined it looking like this.
We had lunch, including coffee grown on site, at a pretty little restaurant located right on the plantation, 
and I was delighted to see this funky little hydroelectric plant fully operational there.
Thea then showed me real live pepper plants. I mean REAL pepper--you know, the stuff we all sprinkle on our food every day. This too was a surprise to me, so I wrestled my camera away from him and took this picture of Thea himself in a pepper grove. Then it was back to the Green House in Sen Menorom, where I again pounced on the computer in the selfish hope that Scott might be suffering from insomnia so that I could chat with him by instant message, but [sigh] no such luck.
However, the two young American women who were scheduled to volunteer at the Project the following week WERE there, authoritatively and diligently teaching English phrases to a young Khmer gentleman. It continually amazes me how hard so many Cambodians work to LEARN--they seem to think that learning English is key to improving their job and financial prospects. I hope they're right!
Becca and Megan and I chatted until Jemma showed up with the truck to take us back to the Project. Jack was still sick and planned to go to Phnom Penh in the morning to see a doctor.
So it was with a genuine sense of homecoming that I found myself back in my little house overlooking the Elephant Valley, watching the jungle form its own clouds.
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