OK, I admit it. I was scared. I guess I was not expecting the place to be so JUNGLY!!! I'd seen the photos of the houses on line, it's true, and I knew,
for example, that there would only be electricity from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m., but I really wasn't prepared for the dark and the isolation. I loved my little house from the very beginning, but I was very nervous. It had a nice red tile floor and recycled planking for walls and a grass roof. Plus it had a bathroom with a toilet that flushed )even when there wasn't electricity and a shower that usually produced water even when there wasn't electricity.
Coldish water, but that was welcome in the heat.
After a really good Khmer meal cooked by the chef Tul, I was eager to get myself tucked in under my mosquito net (or, as "the Australians" called it, a "MUZZIE net" before the lights went out. There were spiders in my house that looked to be the approximate size of our dog Aramis and a shy but large [10-12 inch-long] gecko living there too. The spiders did make me somewhat uncomfortable, so I named them all "Charlotte" and tried to think of them as pals. [See what years of psychotherapy can do for one?] And I tried to think of the gecko as a pal because I was told they eat the spiders. SO, me and my pals settled in for our first night, and I was pleasantly surprised. I wasn't creeped out, I slept soundly, and I don't think anybody bit me.
And in the morning it was time for ELEPHANTS!!!! I got all decked out in my prescribed elephant-watching gear. Socks, sturdy shoes, cap, jacket (it was raining a little), cameras, water bottle, extra strength bug spray, and who knows what else. Off we headed for "Heaven," one of the valleys some of the elephants live in, quite a trek from the project's center, first up a pretty steep path and then down, down, and down a VERY steep, VERY slippery path. It was hot and humid, and I puked. I felt VERY sick, from either the Khmer food, the heat, the excitement, dehydration, or most likely the malaria medication I'd just started taking. Jack said that it made quite a few people sick, and worse, made their skin ultra-sensitive to sunlight. I felt like one big nasty heat rash, but vomiting helped and I felt better, especially when I caught my first glimpse of a Project elephant, and it was . . . . pause for dramatic effect . . . .BOB!
Saturday morning, 7 o'clock sharp, found us all gathering downstairs at the 3 Rivers awaiting our taxis to Sen Menorom. I met my fellow adventurers for the upcoming week, Jill and Asher, a mother-daughter duo from Australia and Klara, also an Australian, travelling all on her own throughout the country and having just completed 1 and 1/2 houses for Habitat for Humanity in Phnom Penh. All very friendly and excited to get to the elephants.
We loaded into a couple of Toyotas and were off, stopping somewhere in town to pick up a backpacker, Jo from the U.S., who also planned to stay at the Project for a few days. We drove by a tourist attraction where apparently the only elephant living in Phnom Penh, Sambo (who is, incidentally, female) was on display, and Jack pointed out that she was clearly in considerable pain. He could tell her feet hurt her, being improperly cared-for, and she appeared under-nourished. It began to sink in just how much elephants need to stay well and how few of them get what they need.
The drive to Sen Menorom was harrowing to say the least. Why? Because of the HUGE quantity of motorbikes on the road, combined with the considerable speed we were driving, and the spectacularly brazen passing techniques of Cambodian drivers. Those techniques consist primarily of horn-blowing. Our driver blew his horn, I'll bet, more every mile of the trip than I do in a year. I would have taken photos of the traffic, but my fists were too tightly clenched, and besides, we were going SO FAST. I don't know how fast; the speedometer on the Toyota wasn't functioning.
Most of the five hour journey was through land so flat it made central Illinois look mountainous. Lots of rice paddies and very little else (where on earth were those motorbikes GOING?) But then, the farther northeast we got, we started getting into some seriously beautiful country, hilly and heavily wooded. There were plantations of rubber trees and what looked like--no, could they be???--red PINE trees. Jack said they'd been planted mainly by the Chinese for paper-making. The Chinese, apparently, are investing heavily in Cambodia, so they must have some assets left after investing so heavily in the USA.
Somehow, we did make it to Sen Menorom, the nearest town to the project. Here's the main street, and here also is a nice statue that was about the only decoration the town had to offer.
And for those of you who are energy conservation-minded (yes, Rich, I'm talking to you),
here's proof positive that the Cambodians are right on top of things.
We then all clambered into Jack's disreputable old truck and headed through a sudden downpour. We trundled down an incredibly steep and rough road, arrived at some buildings, and before I could gather my senses, I was deposited in my little house and looking through the little Zen view that was my window. For two weeks, HOME!
On those garbled airplane announcements, Phnom Penh was pronounced sometimes as "fa-nom pen," sometimes as "pa-nom pen, and sometimes as "nom pen." I was puzzled until one of the bartenders at Three Rivers resolved the matter by telling me the correct pronunciation is . . . . "P [very very short, just sort of slid over] nom PIN"!! There you have it.
It's quite a city. To these American eyes of mine, it appeared very chaotic and dirty, and to my ever-so-fastidious American nose it smelled--well, very smelly. Mostly diesel fumes together with a hint of yesterday's food.
I feel pretty stupid about my earlier comment that the tour of the city was depressing. As they say, "Well, DUH!!!!!"
A country in which 1/4 of the population was slaughtered by its own government less than 40 years ago can be forgiven for being depressing. And I must say, they sure don't try to sweep it under a rug. Look at this: DIRECTIONS to the genocide center!
And what a museum it is. I've never been to, say, Auschwitz, but the impression would have to be similar--that miserably heavy sensation at the bottom of your stomach that reminds you that you are a member of a species that has committed the most unthinkable acts this world has known. I realize it MUST be remembered, but I choose to be Pollyanna and leave it at this one photograph of the temple the Cambodians have constructed to honor some of those killed at the Killing Fields.
I was so thrilled to see a living breathing cow I asked my puzzled tuk-tuk driver to stop so I could take a photo. And here it is. Living AND breathing!
My driver cheerfully chauffeured me around to other sights of the city, but by then I was so disheartened I was frantic to get out of there.
It was reassuringly funny when I mis-heard an exchange between my driver and a motorcyclist. You've heard about my American eyes and nose; well, this time it's my American ears. The motorcyclist cut my guy off in traffic, and my driver yelled what surely sounded to me like "F--- you!" Very understandable, I thought. The guy yelled back [I thought] "A--hole!" Also very understandable, I thought.
But then we stopped at a stoplight, and the two started chatting amicably, and I realized they were simply friends who happened to cross paths on a busy street. No American hostilities, just a cheerful exchange of greetings. So, you see, I even HEAR like an American!
By what seems to me to be a strange turn of events, I have suddenly gotten access to a computer here in Phnom Penh. So, here I am!
Everything went so smoothly getting here it seemed almost routine. My flights departed and arrived precisely on time. Korean Air Lines is FABULOUS! Really good meals kept arriving, I had sufficient leg room and pleasant seat mates. I watched THREE--count'em, THREE--movies, all of which were pretty good. I was stunned by the route we took. Almost none of it was over water except for Hudson's Bay and a whole bunch of polar ice cap. Lots of Russia and China. It was most interesting.
I'm quite confident though not sure that everything went fine on arrival too. I do know for sure that all my stuff arrived safely, but a surly official at immigration said I needed "more!" in the way of documents, I think, but I didn't have a clue what he meant and with a good deal of exasperation, he waved me through. A guy with a cute little thing called a tuk-tuk promptly picked me up and brought me to the guesthouse. There's nothing fancy about this place, I can tell you, but the staff is very friendly, and my room is clean. The bathroom is ingenious--the whole bathroom is a shower. Initially I'd thought there was no shower at all, but then I noticed there was a nozzle simply hanging from the wall up high.
I headed for the bar at the guesthouse to get some bottled water, and the bartender was struggling with trying to understand a phone call. To my great surprise, she handed me the phone, and it was Scott! It seemed absolutely miraculous! The ladies here thought it was amazing too and laughed and laughed. I think they were as thrilled as I was.
Today I woke feeling like I was right on schedule. It seems to me that there's something about being exactly 12 hours ahead that makes the jet lag non-existent, but I feel great. It's hot and humid, but I'm finding it more than tolerable.
Last night I talked the tuk-tuk driver into coming back to show me around the city this morning, so I had a nice breakfast here at the guesthouse and some extra high-octane coffee and then we took off for a thoroughly depressing tour of the actual "killing fields" and the genocide museum and the prison where literally thousands of people were tortured and killed during the infamous rule of Pol Pot (1975-79). It's strange to think that all that was going on while I was blithely going to school and thinking about, of all things, philosophy. And also, there NOW is a trial going on here in Phnom Penh of some of his senior confederates for genocide.
I burned out and returned the hotel to find Jack and his girlfriend having a beer 
at the bar, so we had a great time chatting about this and that. The manager here (whose computer I'm using now) is Eden, and he's now having a little siesta here in the bar! There's another guy named Tom who is theoretically in advertising but seems to hang out here most of the time. He and Jack left on some mission or other, and here I am, at Eden's bar in the 3 Rivers, composing this blog entry.
There's a lot more stories I could tell. It's been really exciting and most reassuring how friendly people are. I do find the beggars disconcerting. Jack says I shouldn't give anything to any of them, because it encourages them not to be self-sustaining, but I simply cannot resist people missing limbs. Call me a sucker, I guess.
But, as you can tell, the atmosphere is very relaxing, at least here at 3 Rivers. No one seems to be in any particular hurry to do much of anything. I'm in my element.
Well . . . ahem . . . I'm leaving TOMORROW.I think I'm as ready as I ever can be. Just about everything you could imagine is packed and ready to go. Several boxes of latex gloves (donated by Ministry Health via Gina), a dozen bars of Linda's home made soap, a bunch of Buck knives discounted by Mitch at the Trading Post, and veterinary eye wash donated by Drs. Foster and Smith.Plus, a scrabble board and dictionary given to the cause by Kathy, the band aids and aspirin, a collection of contemporary American "literature," and well, as you can see, lots and LOTS of stuff. Blame Korean Airlines for enabling me by having those generous baggage limits!Scott says it looks more like a trade mission than a trip! Especially since I'm hoping to buy lots of local stuff there to bring back in all that space I'll have in my luggage. WARNING: If you are so kind as to be worried about my safety over there, first of all, don't be. But more importantly, don't expect blog entries in the next three weeks. There is no internet access at the Elephant Valley Project, and I don't believe I'll be able to enter anything until I get back July 26.And for those of you who may be Facebook or, heavens forbid, Twitter habitues, you will find a link to the Project at http://www.elephantvalleyproject.org/ They might mention it if some crazed American gets sat upon by one of the elephants.
It was pretty jarring to look at the calendar this morning and having it sink in that I leave for Chicago to meet my flight TWO WEEKS FROM TODAY! Maybe this trip isn't so very hypothetical after all.
I have learned that there are no fees for the first two checked suitcases, weighing up to 50 pounds EACH, plus a 25-pound max carry-on, so, man, am I taking the stuff! Lots of veterinary supplies and gifts. Several bars of amazing home made soap.
Now I'm feeling the responsibility of bringing books to leave at the project for future volunteers to read. Since most of the volunteers are British and Australian, I feel a mandate to provide an entertaining selection of AMERICAN material with a focus on environmentalist concerns. Tony Hillerman and Carl Hiassen are already packed after I went shopping for used books at Kids Korner.
While I'm still looking for good quality pen knives, I'm going to follow Jack's suggestion and get aspirin, ibuprofen, and band aids as gifts for the locals. Apparently the over-the counter stuff available there is inconsistent and low quality--cheap Chinese knock-offs.
A little lacking in creative gift-giving, perhaps, but hopefully something that's needed. And as one astute reader commented, not something that constitutes an attempt to change the people's way of life.
Well, preparations are getting serious. I've gotten Jack's wish list of items he could use for the elephants. Stuff like eyewash, for example.
I have a friend who is an exec with Drs. Foster & Smith, a mail order pet supply place headquartered in Rhinelander, and they GAVE me 6 bottles of eyewash and eyewash pads to take with me. The local clinic is going to give me latex gloves for--oh, I don't know, doing unspeakable things to the elephants, I guess. And I'm still working on some other stuff.
The quandry over gifts to take to the local people is starting to resolve itself. We'd thought of reading glasses, knives, scissors, caps, ladles, and oh, I don't know what-all. The best suggestion, I thought, was Swiss Army knives. I was thinking American though, so I modified that to Leatherman. But fortunately I asked Jack's opinion, and he said they're just too complicated and something simpler would be more welcome. Apparently, the residents of Mondulkiri province don't have much use for bottle openers, for example.
So now Mitch at our local sporting goods supply store is looking for a good price on some small "Buck" knives.
Maybe it's true about "It takes a village . . . ."
After a really good Khmer meal cooked by the chef Tul, I was eager to get myself tucked in under my mosquito net (or, as "the Australians" called it, a "MUZZIE net" before the lights went out. There were spiders in my house that looked to be the approximate size of our dog Aramis and a shy but large [10-12 inch-long] gecko living there too. The spiders did make me somewhat uncomfortable, so I named them all "Charlotte" and tried to think of them as pals. [See what years of psychotherapy can do for one?] And I tried to think of the gecko as a pal because I was told they eat the spiders. SO, me and my pals settled in for our first night, and I was pleasantly surprised. I wasn't creeped out, I slept soundly, and I don't think anybody bit me.
