Hot Pyrex + Water = No Dinner

Wow! It's not been a great day, woke up to terrible back pains that no decent amount of pain killers could take away, and Fred sent me out for a spa treatment and said he'd take care of supper. What a sweety! I come home, and he's fixing a leg of lamb that he bought at a premium price, and the whole house smells absolutely divine. Potatoes aren't in the oven yet, and he's got Caroline in his arms, and she only wants her daddy, so I offer to take care of it. Quickly, I cut the potatoes, drizzle them with olive oil, lemon juice, garlic and some herbs, and open the oven to stash them inside. There, the roast is making some terrible spattering noises, and the dish looks very dry, so I figure I'll add just a tad of water to it... Bad idea. Next thing I know there's a huge explosion, the pyrex dish has shattered into thousands of tiny pieces in the oven, and the leg of lamb has got to be condemned. Sniff!! There are just days like this when you know you should just leave everything to someone else...

Mouse in the House!!

We had been seeing telltale signs of mouse activity for several days – a half–eaten chocolate, still in what remained of its wrapper, hastily discarded behind the microwave at the sound of footsteps approaching, a discreet slit at the seam of the bread bag that was absent-mindedly left out the night before, and then some of the bread crust nibbled away, and I knew we were in the presence of a mouse. Only, where was he hiding, and how would we catch him? Fred had talked about a mouse trap, and I agreed that was probably the best course of action, but I had not yet gotten around to buying one. It didn’t really bother me to have a mouse in the house, as long as it was discreet. Well, the answer came to me much sooner than anticipated. One morning, as I was rummaging in the pantry, I saw a flash of grey, and knew in an instant what it was. Before I could think better of it, I had let out a blood-curdling scream. Helena came running to the scene, asking what had happened, and when I told her, she too, was instantly on her guard. I poked at some bags and cans on the pantry shelf, hoping to catch another glimpse of the creature, so I could scream again, and then Helena screamed saying he was behind me, and had disappeared behind the fridge. Since the fridge is on wheels, I moved it out, but there was no sign of the mouse. So, I caught the cat and put him in the pantry and closed the door and hoped he would “take care of things”. After all, Bugsy had all but exterminated the mice around our house and the houses on either side of ours in Holland. But he only meowed and seemed completely uninterested. Before long, our housekeeper arrived, and when I told her what had happened she laughed and said:

- “All barangs are afraid of mice!”
- “And you’re not?”, I asked, naively.
- “No, where I live, there are so many mice, I’m not scared.”

She soon had recruited the driver and the guard, and all went into the pantry and closed the door behind them. They soon decided that the mouse probably had made a nest in the fridge, and asked me for a screwdriver so that they could remove the back of the fridge. Then they called me to show me the little critter's home. I soon overcame my fear, for my curiosity got the better of me, and I entered the room. They shone a flashlight on something which, to me, looked like little more than a collection of insulation, leaves and onion peel, but on closer scrutiny, there were pieces of wrapper and plastic, and all sorts of other things. Most of these items seemed to come from our garage in Holland, where the fridge had been standing when we lived there. They very calmly pulled the nest out, looked at the leaves, and said “These don’t come from a Cambodian tree”. Then they poked around inside the fridge, until the little bugger ran out and across the pantry floor. Again, I screamed, and Helena chimed in. They cornered the fellow behind the pantry shelf, there was a brief struggle, and then they all laughed as the guard emerged holding the mouse squarely between his thumb and index finger. They looked at the mouse and the mouse looked at them. I asked how he possibly could have gotten in, and they said, to my surprise, that they’d asked him, but he clearly didn’t understand Khmer; maybe he had come with us from Holland. I replied that’s impossible, but they insisted, saying that Cambodian mice are not so beautiful. And he is, indeed, a cute little fellow. Besides, we knew we had had mouse activity in our garage prior to our move, but we didn’t expect we’d be taking the little guy with us. How he survived three months wrapped up in a fridge in a container is a mystery, but he looks healthy enough. We decided to hang on to him for a while; since we already have a dog and a cat, it seemed almost fitting that the next addition to the menagerie should be a mouse. We named him Dutchie, in honor of his origins. The guard was given the nickname "Tchma"; Khmer for cat.

Halloween in Phnom Penh

On what was designated All Hallow’s Eve here in this outpost, we all donned our finest attires and called our favorite tuk tuk driver to take us out trick or treating. Since this is not a typically Asian tradition, you cannot simply go knock on any old door and expect people to be ready, hand outstretched, with a basket or cauldron of goodies. Instead, here, people with enough foresight (read: not I) had signed up on a list to host a Halloween house. They had decorated (or not, all depending on how into Halloween they are) their houses, and kids could stop by to pick up their treats. Now, how to know where to go? They had devised a brilliant plan; the main organizer had drawn up a map of the neighborhood, with all the addresses on the back. All we had to do was meet at their house to pick up the map, which we - after looking at it and realizing we couldn’t make sense of it – promptly handed over to our tuk tuk driver, and off we sped, into the fading sunset, to hunt for treats. It’s a funny thing, twilight; it makes people think their eyes are fooling them, which makes it easy to have some fun. With my face painted green, people would look distractedly in direction of our tuk tuk as we drove by, and then they’d hesitate for a moment, thinking they were seeing things, and then – to my kids great despair - I would grin a wicked grin and start cackling. The reaction was amazing! People would laugh, jump into the air and scream. When they tried to overtake our tuk tuk, I’d lean out ever so slightly, or even just stretch out my arm, and when they looked at me, they ‘d be so startled - but they would all inevitably start laughing heartily - it was probably one of the most surreal experiences I had ever had, but I’ve never had so much fun on Halloween night.

More Excitement

I am doing better now, although each day brings new challenges with it. Three days ago, a taxi driver trying to get away from the police drove onto the side-walk to try and get past the cars in the traffic, and knocked over a motorcyclist onto our car. Luckily, we were not hurt, only our car got a dent. The motorcyclist ended up in hospital. But Fred had quite the fright, cause when the driver came to get him at work and he opened to car door to get in, there was a Cambodian with a bloodied shirt sitting on the floor of the van, and behind him four policemen!! The driver was scared Fred wouldn't believe his highly improbable tale, and decided to take off in pursuit of the taxi driver (in our car!), and managed to corner him with the police. A brief struggle (read: beating?) ensued, and they managed to get him cuffed and into our car. Fred had to go with the driver to the police station so that he could make a statement, and the poor taxi driver, well, we don't know what will happen to him. Just hours later, our housekeeper left our house for the day, and just at the end of the street got attacked by three thugs who threw her off her motorcycle into the mud, and took off with the bike. Once again, it was fortunate that she walked away with only minor injuries. In Cambodia, most criminals carry guns, and don't hesitate to use them. Apparently, there is always more crime before a holiday, and Pchum Ben (Ancestor's Day) is just two weeks away, but they already have celebrations leading up to it.

Breaking the Silence

It has been a while since I last wrote. All the problems we experienced with our move have had me more than a little discouraged. Incompetent forwarding agents who failed to inform us which documents were needed to ensure that our household goods would clear customs in a timely fashion, lazy or inept employees in the UNAKRT admin who were slow to get us the necessary documents once we knew what was required, and whom it took almost FIVE months to get Fred on the payroll (!!), coupled with an employer who has been completely insensitive to our dilemma made me think of setting sail for other less hostile shores on more than one occasion.
We had been promised that our household goods would clear mid-June, but didn’t get them until August. In the mean time, we were paying double rent, and at the same time were getting no salary! It goes without saying that this was an unsustainable situation, and our reserves were dwindling fast. Luckily, one of Fred’s co-workers took pity on us and offered to put us up until we could move into our house. We stayed with her for three weeks, and for one of those weeks we went to the Cambodian seaside village and port of Sihanoukville. We stayed in a fabulous resort - the Sokha. Only problem was that it was raining and overcast for the greater part of our stay. It was still nice to escape the heat, filth and permanent stench of Phnom Penh. It was actually quite pleasant to be outside, and as long as there was no thunder, we could still play on the beach and swim in the Gulf of Thailand. The water was beautiful. There was not much to do outside the resort, but we didn’t really need to go anywhere.

We moved into our house on the last weekend of July. It was exciting to finally be able to settle, but our troubles weren’t over yet. We had power outages three days in a row, followed by a sequence of electrical and plumbing problems that were repaired in such a way that they reoccur three days later.

So, it's been a tough adjustment, still is. All of this has cast a shadow on the initial charm of Phnom Penh. One thing about living abroad that is nice in the short term is that your mind and senses are constantly stimulated by new places, people, cultures, foods and a wide range of experiences. But for the long haul, what is mentally (and physically) difficult is that you have to start over all the time. New house, new school, new friends. And even when you do get it all right, it's a revolving door of expats-- people just passing through and do not stay in your life for long. The absence of the friendly face that knows and understands and who shares a common past is draining.

I have decided to try my best to not to let this get me down, and continue my blogging, if for no other reason, then to have it as a reminder of all the things we experienced during our stay here.

Trial Gains Momentum with Survivor Testimony

Last week, the Trial Chamber heard the testimony of some of the few survivors from Tuol Sleng prison (S-21) in the trial of prison chief Kaing Guek Eav (a.k.a. Duch) currently underway in the Extraordinary Chambers in the Courts of Cambodia (ECCC). Toul Sleng was the notorious detention center in Phnom Penh during the Pol Pot regime where tens of thousands of Cambodians, mostly intellectuals, met an untimely death after being subjected to gruelling torture. Many of witnesses broke down in tears when trying to recount the grisly details of their time spent at the prison, and were asked by the Trial Chamber President to calm down.

These proceedings are monumental for the history and the future of Cambodia, as many of the younger Cambodians know nothing of this traumatic part of Cambodian history, as it was not taught in schools. They heard whispers of it from their elders (those who survived - a large proportion of the poplation having been wiped out in the killing fields - over 50% of the population is under 17), but never knew for sure if any of this was true. This silence and denial (amongst other things), enabled former Khmer Rouge to rise to high positions within the government, many of them still hold government posts today. The nation has long lived in the shadows of this dark past, and now - finally - the time has come to shed some light on it.

To learn more about the Court and the court proceedings, click on one of the links below:

www.eccc.gov.kh
http://www.cambodiatribunal.org/
http://www.phnompenhpost.com/index.php/component/option,com_myblog/Itemid,44/