Very exciting news...I figured out when Seinfeld airs! Every weeknight at 6:30. It's perfect; get home at 5:30 or so, get some dinner cooking and pop on Seinfeld. The only thing missing is someone that appreciates it as much as I (you know who you are).
Ok, now on to the actually exciting news. I started working at Pact, a development NGO, on Wednesday. It's a joint internship (unfortunately unpaid) between the anti-corruption program and the local administration reform program, two of the hottest topics here in Cambodia. For the first few days I've been doing issues surrounding land, with the intent of figuring out how to reduce or eliminate corruption within land registration processes, but recognizing the necessity of doing background research first. The research is quite legal in nature (I'm reading up on Cambodian land law) and actually pretty interesting. My favorite line thus far is in the section of the 2001 Land Law dealing with property owners' rights:
"The owner of the land’s surface is also the owner of the space situated directly above his property and of the things that are permanently fixed on his property, except electrical and telecommunication wires that shall be governed by separate law...He may not, however, prohibit any aircraft from flying over his property."
Even though it's only been a few days, it's good to get back in to the habit of "doing stuff" and I've already had the opportunity to meet a good amount of people both within Pact and in other organizations.
Friday, August 24, 2007
Monday, August 20, 2007
My First Haircut and an Unexpected Sight in Cambodia
FIRST HAIRCUT
Having gone over a month without a haircut and due to the recent heat that's hit Phnom Penh, I felt it necessary to get a trim. A few blocks down our street, towards the market we frequent, is, in the very loose sense of the word, a barber shop. The shop has four barber seats and as many attentive barbers. I strolled in on a busy Saturday morning and got the only open chair. I quickly realized, however, that this would be a somewhat taxing affair. I certainly do not yet speak enough Khmer to properly instruct a barber on how to cut my hair, and none of the barbers spoke any English. Luckily, the man sitting next to me spoke a few words of English and was able to loosely translate what I wanted to my barber. The haircut started innocently enough, with a trim around the edges (my ears, sideburns, and neck). Next, at my sign, he shortened my sideburns further, though to an extent that I certainly did not intend. The most sideburn-less I'd been in perhaps eight years, I was quite concerned as to what would happen with the rest of my hair. I instructed the barber to take only a little bit, then a little bit more, and still a little bit more until I was satisfied with the length. I was not out of the woods yet, though, as the barber took out a razor (with a new blade I saw him take out of the packaging) and "neatened up" the areas around my sideburns, ears, and the back of my neck in a manner befitting of a 1950s style American barber shop (or a current one in a very small, rural town). I thanked the gentleman for a fine haircut and paid the 2500 riel ($0.63) price posted on the mirror and went on my way. The sideburns will be back in no time and then it will be a good haircut.
AN UNEXPECTED SIGHT
Saturday afternoon, after my haircut, I went to the grocery store to do our shopping for the week. At a major intersection on the short walk, I saw a vehicle I certainly did not expect to see in Cambodia: a brand new Lamborghini Gallardo. Though corruption is rampant here and Lexus SUVs are all too common, a Lamborghini is an entirely different animal. I had two problems with seeing such an exotic car on Phnom Penh's streets. First, what the hell were they thinking driving that car on the streets here? The roads are terrible, jam-packed, accident-prone and not at all conducive to a sports car that can hit 80mph in third gear. There's nowhere in Cambodia that anyone can enjoy a Lamborghini as it's supposed to be enjoyed. Second, the cost of the vehicle, about $175,000 in the US (I would imagine even higher here) is equal to the average annual per capita income of nearly 600 Cambodians. How could anyone in their right mind flaunt such wealth in a country in which the average person makes just over $300 a year? Though a beautiful car, it does not belong on the streets here.
Having gone over a month without a haircut and due to the recent heat that's hit Phnom Penh, I felt it necessary to get a trim. A few blocks down our street, towards the market we frequent, is, in the very loose sense of the word, a barber shop. The shop has four barber seats and as many attentive barbers. I strolled in on a busy Saturday morning and got the only open chair. I quickly realized, however, that this would be a somewhat taxing affair. I certainly do not yet speak enough Khmer to properly instruct a barber on how to cut my hair, and none of the barbers spoke any English. Luckily, the man sitting next to me spoke a few words of English and was able to loosely translate what I wanted to my barber. The haircut started innocently enough, with a trim around the edges (my ears, sideburns, and neck). Next, at my sign, he shortened my sideburns further, though to an extent that I certainly did not intend. The most sideburn-less I'd been in perhaps eight years, I was quite concerned as to what would happen with the rest of my hair. I instructed the barber to take only a little bit, then a little bit more, and still a little bit more until I was satisfied with the length. I was not out of the woods yet, though, as the barber took out a razor (with a new blade I saw him take out of the packaging) and "neatened up" the areas around my sideburns, ears, and the back of my neck in a manner befitting of a 1950s style American barber shop (or a current one in a very small, rural town). I thanked the gentleman for a fine haircut and paid the 2500 riel ($0.63) price posted on the mirror and went on my way. The sideburns will be back in no time and then it will be a good haircut.
AN UNEXPECTED SIGHT
Saturday afternoon, after my haircut, I went to the grocery store to do our shopping for the week. At a major intersection on the short walk, I saw a vehicle I certainly did not expect to see in Cambodia: a brand new Lamborghini Gallardo. Though corruption is rampant here and Lexus SUVs are all too common, a Lamborghini is an entirely different animal. I had two problems with seeing such an exotic car on Phnom Penh's streets. First, what the hell were they thinking driving that car on the streets here? The roads are terrible, jam-packed, accident-prone and not at all conducive to a sports car that can hit 80mph in third gear. There's nowhere in Cambodia that anyone can enjoy a Lamborghini as it's supposed to be enjoyed. Second, the cost of the vehicle, about $175,000 in the US (I would imagine even higher here) is equal to the average annual per capita income of nearly 600 Cambodians. How could anyone in their right mind flaunt such wealth in a country in which the average person makes just over $300 a year? Though a beautiful car, it does not belong on the streets here.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Kampot and Bokor
Let me apologize in advance...this could be a long one...
After safely motorbiking Shanti and myself home on Friday, we headed over to the bus station, not knowing what time the bus left, to go to Kampot for the weekend. At bus station #1, we were told that buses don't leave for Kampot from said station, so we went to bus station #2, by the Central Market. We arrived at 1:15, precisely the time the bus for Kampot was due to leave. Luckily, we're in Cambodia and nothing happens on time, so we made it with about a half an hour to spare.
After an uneventful but scenic (and sometimes bumpy) 5 hour bus ride we arrived in the quaint and sprawling town of Kampot. We tracked down the guesthouse we planned to stay in, a cute little place called the Little Garden Bar, right on the Prek Thom River. We grabbed a quick, cheap, and delicious bite to eat (spring rolls and spicy beef) and figured out how we would make the 40km trip to Bokor National Park the next day. We called a few places but details were sketchy. One guy came to our guesthouse and tried to convince us that the road up to Bokor was washed out and the only way to get there was via motorbike (instead of 4x4) for $15 (instead of $6). Cough...cough...scam. We booked with his competitor and called it a night.
I took a little walk while Shanti slept Saturday morning, down the riverfront and to the town market. I don't know why, but for some reason I'm convinced that Kampot is the Wild West. I'm not exactly sure how to describe it, but to say that that's just how it felt. Dusty dirt roads, wooden shacks and stores, and just the general sense that Kampot was stuck in the days of the mid-1800s. Anyways, I had an enjoyable walk - especially since I seemed to be the only Westerner around. I tried to get a conversation going with some moto drivers in Khmer, but they laughed and promptly informed me that they spoke English. Very amusing.
Strolled back to the guesthouse where we got picked up by a moto to meet the other tourists trekking up to Bokor. Twelve of us (plus two guides) were piling in to a pickup. My mom would have killed me for a) going or b) considering taking her on such a trip. Shanti and I piled on to the back, where benches lined the side, and held on for dear life. The road to the outskirts of the National Park were fine, but once we entered the Park, they were atrocious. I was AMAZED that our truck didn't break down, that it only got stuck in mud once, and that trucks regularly make it up this road. It was built by the French in the early 1920s - I have no idea what they were thinking - and not at all maintained. It was a back-bruising and butt-busting two hour drive from sea level to 3500 feet through virgin, prehistoric-looking jungle, with some palm fronds growing to at least forty feet. We had to stop several times and walk to ensure the truck could make it by on the road and on one such occasion, I saw a baboon run across the road, the only real wildlife we saw save an iguana, some butterflies, and some interesting insects.
At the top, the French had built a palace, dubbed the Black Palace, now in ruins, overlooking surrounding jungle, rice fields, and the coast, with Vietnam visible in the distance. Quite a view and we were lucky to glimpse it at all, as during the rainy season the mountains are usually shrouded in clouds. As we arrived at our next stop, the old casino, it started pouring. We hustled under tarps set up for our lunch stop and gobbled down an interesting-tasting vegetable curry (my favorite...) before exploring. By the time we finished eating, the fog had rolled in creating perhaps one of the spookiest spectacles I've ever seen. We wandered around the five or so floors covered in moss, rainwater, and debris. It was a fairly haunting experience that reminded me a bit of my trip to Darulaman Palace in Kabul.
Our last stop on the top was the church, equally ruined and moss-covered, and even more creepy than the Palace and the casino. I felt like I was surrounded by ghosts. After the church we began our fun, but somewhat painful trip down. We stopped an hour in to hour drive to do a short jungle trek, but first had to try and unsuccessfully get our truck unstuck. The girls sat in the bed of the truck to increase the traction on the tires, while the men got mud-splattered were unsuccessful in pushing it out. The driver waited for another truck to come by and pull him out while we went on our rather uneventful (and spikey-plant filled) jungle trek.
Two hours later and we were back riverside, to catch a boat back to Kampot and the sunset over Bokor. It was the perfect conclusion to the exhausting and beautiful day, and it was topped off with a local beer.
Having not enjoyed my curry all that much, I was starving. Once back in Kampot town, we restaurant hopped until settling on a tasty place called Coco house, where we indulged in a steak in butter and garlic sauce with french fries and salad and garlic bread. Full, sore, and exhausted, we went to sleep.
Sunday morning we pampered ourselves with crepes, a baguette, and a massage. Shanti's was good, but mine was just mediocre. Still worth the $4 it cost for an hour.
I don't know that we'll be back in Kampot any time soon, but we will probably take a trip to Kep (about 25km from Kampot), a beautiful and quiet beach town.
Just one final and unrelated note: I'm getting much better at motorbike driving. Haven't been pulled over any more and haven't gotten in any accidents either. :) I'll keep you all posted.
After safely motorbiking Shanti and myself home on Friday, we headed over to the bus station, not knowing what time the bus left, to go to Kampot for the weekend. At bus station #1, we were told that buses don't leave for Kampot from said station, so we went to bus station #2, by the Central Market. We arrived at 1:15, precisely the time the bus for Kampot was due to leave. Luckily, we're in Cambodia and nothing happens on time, so we made it with about a half an hour to spare.
After an uneventful but scenic (and sometimes bumpy) 5 hour bus ride we arrived in the quaint and sprawling town of Kampot. We tracked down the guesthouse we planned to stay in, a cute little place called the Little Garden Bar, right on the Prek Thom River. We grabbed a quick, cheap, and delicious bite to eat (spring rolls and spicy beef) and figured out how we would make the 40km trip to Bokor National Park the next day. We called a few places but details were sketchy. One guy came to our guesthouse and tried to convince us that the road up to Bokor was washed out and the only way to get there was via motorbike (instead of 4x4) for $15 (instead of $6). Cough...cough...scam. We booked with his competitor and called it a night.
I took a little walk while Shanti slept Saturday morning, down the riverfront and to the town market. I don't know why, but for some reason I'm convinced that Kampot is the Wild West. I'm not exactly sure how to describe it, but to say that that's just how it felt. Dusty dirt roads, wooden shacks and stores, and just the general sense that Kampot was stuck in the days of the mid-1800s. Anyways, I had an enjoyable walk - especially since I seemed to be the only Westerner around. I tried to get a conversation going with some moto drivers in Khmer, but they laughed and promptly informed me that they spoke English. Very amusing.
Strolled back to the guesthouse where we got picked up by a moto to meet the other tourists trekking up to Bokor. Twelve of us (plus two guides) were piling in to a pickup. My mom would have killed me for a) going or b) considering taking her on such a trip. Shanti and I piled on to the back, where benches lined the side, and held on for dear life. The road to the outskirts of the National Park were fine, but once we entered the Park, they were atrocious. I was AMAZED that our truck didn't break down, that it only got stuck in mud once, and that trucks regularly make it up this road. It was built by the French in the early 1920s - I have no idea what they were thinking - and not at all maintained. It was a back-bruising and butt-busting two hour drive from sea level to 3500 feet through virgin, prehistoric-looking jungle, with some palm fronds growing to at least forty feet. We had to stop several times and walk to ensure the truck could make it by on the road and on one such occasion, I saw a baboon run across the road, the only real wildlife we saw save an iguana, some butterflies, and some interesting insects.
At the top, the French had built a palace, dubbed the Black Palace, now in ruins, overlooking surrounding jungle, rice fields, and the coast, with Vietnam visible in the distance. Quite a view and we were lucky to glimpse it at all, as during the rainy season the mountains are usually shrouded in clouds. As we arrived at our next stop, the old casino, it started pouring. We hustled under tarps set up for our lunch stop and gobbled down an interesting-tasting vegetable curry (my favorite...) before exploring. By the time we finished eating, the fog had rolled in creating perhaps one of the spookiest spectacles I've ever seen. We wandered around the five or so floors covered in moss, rainwater, and debris. It was a fairly haunting experience that reminded me a bit of my trip to Darulaman Palace in Kabul.
Our last stop on the top was the church, equally ruined and moss-covered, and even more creepy than the Palace and the casino. I felt like I was surrounded by ghosts. After the church we began our fun, but somewhat painful trip down. We stopped an hour in to hour drive to do a short jungle trek, but first had to try and unsuccessfully get our truck unstuck. The girls sat in the bed of the truck to increase the traction on the tires, while the men got mud-splattered were unsuccessful in pushing it out. The driver waited for another truck to come by and pull him out while we went on our rather uneventful (and spikey-plant filled) jungle trek.
Two hours later and we were back riverside, to catch a boat back to Kampot and the sunset over Bokor. It was the perfect conclusion to the exhausting and beautiful day, and it was topped off with a local beer.
Having not enjoyed my curry all that much, I was starving. Once back in Kampot town, we restaurant hopped until settling on a tasty place called Coco house, where we indulged in a steak in butter and garlic sauce with french fries and salad and garlic bread. Full, sore, and exhausted, we went to sleep.
Sunday morning we pampered ourselves with crepes, a baguette, and a massage. Shanti's was good, but mine was just mediocre. Still worth the $4 it cost for an hour.
I don't know that we'll be back in Kampot any time soon, but we will probably take a trip to Kep (about 25km from Kampot), a beautiful and quiet beach town.
Just one final and unrelated note: I'm getting much better at motorbike driving. Haven't been pulled over any more and haven't gotten in any accidents either. :) I'll keep you all posted.
Friday, August 10, 2007
Motorbikes
So for the past two weekends Shanti and I have been looking to purchase a motorbike. They're fairly cheap (about $400) and the most stylish and popular mode of transportation in Phnom Penh. Upon learning that we were looking, one of Shanti's co-workers - Vichhra - (who is pregnant and just got a car because she doesn't want to be a motrobiking mommy) offered to rent hers to us. We thought this would be a good intermediary step to buying, so we accepted hers for a nominal monthly fee, a few home-cooked American meals, and babysitting on call.
Today, I went in to work with Shanti to pick up our new (or almost twenty year-old) motorbike. Uncomfortable driving during "rush hour," which is mayhem, I decided to hang out for a bit and give it a whirl once the streets settled down a bit.
When I was finally ready, say 10:30, I had a little trouble starting it and perhaps a little trouble controling it, but I was on my way. I made it to within two blocks of our house without incident (save a racing heart) and turned on to the street before ours. As soon as I had done so, I was waved over to the side of the road by four policeman. I couldn't figure out what I did wrong: I signalled and I definitely wasn't going too fast.
The one policeman that spoke English was waved over and informed me I made an illegal left turn. I saw a "no u-turn" sign, but not a no left turn sign. Having been on a motorbike for not even five minutes, I was a bit concerned, especially since the bike wasn't even mine. He said the police would take my US driver's license and confiscate the bike until I could pay the 10,000 riel ($2.50) fine on Monday. Oh goodness...
Lucky for me, the police here is quite corrupt, making a mere $20 per month, and they said I could "take care" of it now for a mere 4,000 riels ($1). Unfortunately, however, I only had a $20 bill and 500 riels and I wasn't about to ask for change for the $20 or double one particular policeman's salary. I told them my house was close and they let me ride the motorbike to it to grab their bribe, a 5,000 riel note.
I thought about not going back, but since they started to write down something in Khmer on an "official" looking paper, I consulted Shanti and her co-workers via telephone. They said to go back and I think the police were quite surprised and definitely pleased to see me return. Upon making it back to Shanti's office, I was greeted with big smiles and nearly applause. Let's hope this is not an ominous start for my motorbike driving...
Today, I went in to work with Shanti to pick up our new (or almost twenty year-old) motorbike. Uncomfortable driving during "rush hour," which is mayhem, I decided to hang out for a bit and give it a whirl once the streets settled down a bit.
When I was finally ready, say 10:30, I had a little trouble starting it and perhaps a little trouble controling it, but I was on my way. I made it to within two blocks of our house without incident (save a racing heart) and turned on to the street before ours. As soon as I had done so, I was waved over to the side of the road by four policeman. I couldn't figure out what I did wrong: I signalled and I definitely wasn't going too fast.
The one policeman that spoke English was waved over and informed me I made an illegal left turn. I saw a "no u-turn" sign, but not a no left turn sign. Having been on a motorbike for not even five minutes, I was a bit concerned, especially since the bike wasn't even mine. He said the police would take my US driver's license and confiscate the bike until I could pay the 10,000 riel ($2.50) fine on Monday. Oh goodness...
Lucky for me, the police here is quite corrupt, making a mere $20 per month, and they said I could "take care" of it now for a mere 4,000 riels ($1). Unfortunately, however, I only had a $20 bill and 500 riels and I wasn't about to ask for change for the $20 or double one particular policeman's salary. I told them my house was close and they let me ride the motorbike to it to grab their bribe, a 5,000 riel note.
I thought about not going back, but since they started to write down something in Khmer on an "official" looking paper, I consulted Shanti and her co-workers via telephone. They said to go back and I think the police were quite surprised and definitely pleased to see me return. Upon making it back to Shanti's office, I was greeted with big smiles and nearly applause. Let's hope this is not an ominous start for my motorbike driving...
Thursday, August 9, 2007
A Wicked Pisser
On this gray and rainy Thursday morning Shanti and were having our Khmer lesson as scheduled. The lessons, which we're taking three mornings a week for one hour, have been going really well. Our teacher, Sokha, is one of several Cambodians that have been teaching new Peace Corps volunteers Khmer and also teaches English. He's very enthusiastic, a good teacher, and quite cute to boot.
Anyways, today we were learning numbers - theoretically we can count to a billion now - and the issue of pronounciation came up. Sokha told us that in different parts of Cambodia, and in particular Siem Reap (which is where Cambodia's famed Angkor Wat is located) words are pronounced in different ways. This sparked an entire discussion on different American accents, most notably the South and the Midwest. Out of nowhere, however, Sokha said something which Shanti and I recognized only after it was repeated a few times. When we realized that he was, in fact, saying "wicked pisser," we could not stop laughing. A cute, nearly 30 year-old Cambodian repeating the Boston staple "wicked pisser" over and over again. Ah globalization...
Anyways, today we were learning numbers - theoretically we can count to a billion now - and the issue of pronounciation came up. Sokha told us that in different parts of Cambodia, and in particular Siem Reap (which is where Cambodia's famed Angkor Wat is located) words are pronounced in different ways. This sparked an entire discussion on different American accents, most notably the South and the Midwest. Out of nowhere, however, Sokha said something which Shanti and I recognized only after it was repeated a few times. When we realized that he was, in fact, saying "wicked pisser," we could not stop laughing. A cute, nearly 30 year-old Cambodian repeating the Boston staple "wicked pisser" over and over again. Ah globalization...
Monday, August 6, 2007
The Monsoon
As we've had a bit more rain the last few days, I thought it would be worthwhile to try and describe what the monsoon is like.
Pounding and thundering rain on tin roofs. So loud, you practically have to yell at someone standing right next to you. Intermittent lighting, illumniating the entire sky, and booming thunder. Howling wind. At the same time it is relaxing, exciting, and terrifying. There is nothing quite like swinging back and forth in one of the hammocks on our terrace, observing it and being soothed by a bit of its mist. I love it. I hope to dance in its rains often and know I will long enjoy it's soothing and cooling effects.
Motorbike drivers immediately don a clear poncho, covering head to toe. Within minutes, the streets are flooded, the primitive sewer system overflowing. Trash and debris is swept along with the flow of water. To be exposed is to be drenched in a matter of seconds. But sometimes, that is exactly what you want.
Pounding and thundering rain on tin roofs. So loud, you practically have to yell at someone standing right next to you. Intermittent lighting, illumniating the entire sky, and booming thunder. Howling wind. At the same time it is relaxing, exciting, and terrifying. There is nothing quite like swinging back and forth in one of the hammocks on our terrace, observing it and being soothed by a bit of its mist. I love it. I hope to dance in its rains often and know I will long enjoy it's soothing and cooling effects.
Motorbike drivers immediately don a clear poncho, covering head to toe. Within minutes, the streets are flooded, the primitive sewer system overflowing. Trash and debris is swept along with the flow of water. To be exposed is to be drenched in a matter of seconds. But sometimes, that is exactly what you want.
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Things I've Been Up To
Let me try and give you a little bit more meat in this post than the last one. This past weekend Shanti and I decided to take a tour of the Royal Palace and Silver Pagoda, a huge complex with beautiful buildings, temples, and Khmer artifacts. However, upon arriving we learned that the price had recently been hiked up from a reasonable $3 to a much less reasonable $6.25. We figured that there'll be enough people coming through that we'd be better off waiting on the Palace.
Instead of the Palace, we trekked over to the Central Market (Psar Thmei), the busiest and most organized of Phnom Penh's bustling markets. Still filling in on housewares, we ended up with an interesting variety of goods including: a small pot, a cutting board, a strainer, and perhaps most importantly, some plants for our large terrace.
Sunday was a day of errands as well, including a run to the grocery store (we're working on doing more shopping in the markets), a hair cut for Shanti, which is a story in and of itself, and looking at motorbikes without having any idea what we were looking it. One of Shanti's Cambodian coworkers may come to help us out this weekend.
Sunday night we hosted Shanti's coworkers at our apartment for an American-style barbeque. We got hot dogs, ketchup, pickles and potato chips, made hamburgers, and grilled (my first time using charcoal). It was good fun and I think Shanti's coworkers, Vuth and Vichhra, enjoyed themselves and did a pretty good job preventing an overload of leftovers.
On Monday, Nick, an Aussie who worked in Phnom Penh a few years ago and overlapped with me a bit at CSIS, got in to town for a few days. I met him at a place called The Pavillion, which was a really nice boutique hotel we snuck in to to use the pool. It was glorious. Three were large gazebos with cushions to sit on and white (silk?) mosquito nets and, of course, the pool. I'm going to need to find a way to go swimming on a regular basis here...
One final note before I conclude: our "host" mother is awesome. One day when coming home, I said hello and, after flailing her arms motioning me to stay, she ran off only to return with a plate of steaming hot and delicious corn. We returned the plate with a leftover hamburger and hot dog. Yesterday, she again stopped me to offer a plate full of bananas (like 30 of them), so last night, we returned the plate with a bit of spaghetti and meatballs. We'll see how long the exchange continues, but it's been fun so far.
One final final note (promise). Yesterday Shanti and I had our first Khmer lesson. The teacher is very good and enthusiastic - he teaches the Peace Corps volunteers English. We're going to do an hour long session three mornings a week, focusing on the spoken language and, if all goes well, move on to writing.
Instead of the Palace, we trekked over to the Central Market (Psar Thmei), the busiest and most organized of Phnom Penh's bustling markets. Still filling in on housewares, we ended up with an interesting variety of goods including: a small pot, a cutting board, a strainer, and perhaps most importantly, some plants for our large terrace.
Sunday was a day of errands as well, including a run to the grocery store (we're working on doing more shopping in the markets), a hair cut for Shanti, which is a story in and of itself, and looking at motorbikes without having any idea what we were looking it. One of Shanti's Cambodian coworkers may come to help us out this weekend.
Sunday night we hosted Shanti's coworkers at our apartment for an American-style barbeque. We got hot dogs, ketchup, pickles and potato chips, made hamburgers, and grilled (my first time using charcoal). It was good fun and I think Shanti's coworkers, Vuth and Vichhra, enjoyed themselves and did a pretty good job preventing an overload of leftovers.
On Monday, Nick, an Aussie who worked in Phnom Penh a few years ago and overlapped with me a bit at CSIS, got in to town for a few days. I met him at a place called The Pavillion, which was a really nice boutique hotel we snuck in to to use the pool. It was glorious. Three were large gazebos with cushions to sit on and white (silk?) mosquito nets and, of course, the pool. I'm going to need to find a way to go swimming on a regular basis here...
One final note before I conclude: our "host" mother is awesome. One day when coming home, I said hello and, after flailing her arms motioning me to stay, she ran off only to return with a plate of steaming hot and delicious corn. We returned the plate with a leftover hamburger and hot dog. Yesterday, she again stopped me to offer a plate full of bananas (like 30 of them), so last night, we returned the plate with a bit of spaghetti and meatballs. We'll see how long the exchange continues, but it's been fun so far.
One final final note (promise). Yesterday Shanti and I had our first Khmer lesson. The teacher is very good and enthusiastic - he teaches the Peace Corps volunteers English. We're going to do an hour long session three mornings a week, focusing on the spoken language and, if all goes well, move on to writing.
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