Saturday, my only boring day

     I felt quite bereft after they'd gone, and Sen Menorom is not exactly a thriving metropolis with tons of diversions.  I explored the market, where unrecognizable (but interesting looking) meats, vegetables, and fruit were on display and lots and lots of STUFF.  I bought some coffee that was grown in Mondulkiri and some shampoo and then had the rest of the day to contemplate the past week and to read the book I'd brought with me (for no particular reason, Orange is the New Black, which I liked).
      I found I had forgotten to mention some interesting things that had occurred in the past week.  There was just so MUCH!  One of the things I forgot was GIFTS!  Remember the gifts I agonized over?

      One was Linda's luxurious home made soaps, each bar lovingly made with the most exquisite western nose in mind.  I gave one each to all the ladies present at the project.  Jemma (having an exquisite western nose) immediately loved hers.  But the Cambodian ladies were clearly befuddled.  The smells were unfamiliar--maybe the chocolate soap seemed like something that should be eaten.  Jemma made her best efforts to pantomime washing oneself with soap and to describe the smells, but these ladies were a hard sell.  Here's Jill's photograph of THAT transaction.

      



     Another was the knives I brought as gifts for the mahouts.  You may recall that Mitch at the Trading Post had gotten some small Buck (American made!) knives for me at cost to take over, and those were an absolutely unqualified success.  The mahouts LOVED them and indeed treasured them too much to carry.  Pluk, the head mahout, was the only one whom I ever saw actually carrying his knife, so I quickly took this picture.  Thanks, Mitch!

         But by far the most appreciative gift recipient of all was Jack himself.  In fact, he said it was "the best Christmas ever!"  He had emailed earlier that he longed for up-to-date reading material (as well as something to satisfy his sweet tooth), so I took him a stack of New Yorkers and a Chicago Tribune.  He buried himself in these, and we heard hardly anything from him at all except the rustling of candy wrappers.  Here he is in the background, and I must add that he was remarkably ungenerous with the POUND of candy I'd brought.  
     This, by the way, is the dining room and universal gathering spot at the Project.   Every meal we consumed here was delicious, authentic Khmer food prepared by Tul, who is a very talented chef.
     By evening, I was getting weary of feeling bereft and crazy to make contact with Scott, so I meandered over to the Green House, where I had three--count'em, THREE--Margaritas and French fries and made acquaintance with three new friends.  One was Thea, a young Cambodian teacher, who was eager to learn more English and who supplemented his $20/month salary by giving tourists motorbike trips during his holidays.  I made arrangements to go for a trip with him the following day.
     The other two were a couple of Frenchmen traveling through Cambodia together.  One was an engineer and one was a veterinarian, who regrettably had NOT made arrangements to go to the Elephant Valley Project, but who was a member of Veterinarians and Agronomists Without Borders, an organization I'd never heard of but which I was very glad to hear existed.  As you can imagine, and especially while consuming Margarita #3, I filled them in about the status of the elephants, and a fine time was had by all--well, at least by me!
     I suddenly was able to instant message with Scott and that made me so acutely homesick I was teary-eyed, though that too may have had something to do with the Margaritas.