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/

Driving from Phnom Penh to Siem Reap

Well, I promised that I would write about our trip to the temples of Angkor, and it's coming, but before that, here is a description of our drive there.

Destination Siem Reap and Angkor Wat

First of all, it was a relief that we even managed to reach our destination alive and in one piece. The drive from Phnom Penh to Siem Reap is only about 300 km, but it takes close to six hours to get there. This includes two stops along the way – one very short one, a pipi stop; the other long enough for lunch. Mind you, it is not a restful drive. Even though the road connecting the two towns is one of the better roads in Cambodia, it’s only a two-lane highway, and most of it is in fair to poor condition, making for a bumpy ride. Not conducive to sleep. We had hired a van with a Cambodian driver, which was a good thing, I suppose, because I doubt we would have managed to navigate all the way ourselves. Cambodia apparently has a very comprehensive set of traffic rules, but nobody seems to care. Absolute turmoil dominates the road scene as motorbikes, cars, trucks, cyclists and every conceivable vehicle (anything that has wheels applies) zigzag down the road. All sorts of hazards lurk around the next bend, from motorcycles, speeding buses or little kids or old women trying to cross the highway right in front of you, to unexpected cattle crossings. Still, it seems to work. I have yet to see an accident (although it is said that on average 4 people are killed in traffic accidents and many more are injured daily in Cambodia). Makes you wonder if we really need all our traffic rules. Both going there and coming back, we passed a man who hobbled out into the middle of the road with the help of a make-shift crutch as we approached (two thirds of his leg was missing, probably blown off by a landmine), knelt down in the middle on the yellow line, and put his hands together in front of his face as if in prayer. We will never know if he was praying for alms or a speedy death.

As we left the city, we made our way through what can best be described as shanty towns, groups of make-shift shacks, the traditional wooden houses on stilts, countless little stands catering to the basic needs of the local population including petrol in two-litre soda bottles for motorbikes. These zones made way for a more rural area with vast expanses of emerald green rice fields, emaciated oxen grazing in the shade of trees and water buffaloes trying to stay cool in the wet, grassy areas along the roadside. People travel by every possible means: ox carts, bicycles, on top of trucks or even hanging out of the trunks of cars. Nearly every car is driven by a madman going at full throttle, and they never slow down, just honk their horns to announce their impending arrival, and nobody seems to mind. We passed by rice paddies where workers were busy with the back-breaking business of cultivating rice, past villages where red chili peppers were laid out on coarse cloths to dry in the sun and dirty children ran about naked while their mothers washed clothes in the brown water by the road, and yet others where the main livelihood seemed to be selling grilled grasshoppers on the side of the road.

Our first stop was at the Cambodian equivalent of a French “restoroute”, an (outdoor) restaurant serving up all sorts of Cambodian fare, and a “hot dog stand” selling cold drinks and grilled grasshoppers and spiders, turtle eggs and snails as well as all sorts of fruits; mangoes, pineapples, mangosteen, etc. We decided to be health-conscious and not give in to the temptation of snacking, though Thomas did convince me to try a grasshopper, having tried it a friend’s house, and I must admit it wasn’t all that bad! Though we didn’t buy anything, the people were kind as always, even in the face of incredible poverty.

After two more hours of driving, our stomachs were growling up a storm, so we tapped on the driver’s shoulder and had a stab at explaining that we wanted to stop for lunch. Since his English was non-existent, and out Khmer equally poor, we ended up putting it in very plain words… “Chop chop (stop in Khmer), niam niam?” and making eating motions with our hands and mouths – not a very proud moment for two linguists… Just as we were wondering if he had understood any of our babbling, he pulled off at another roadside restaurant. We were led down some steps, and there beyond the main dining area, we saw an enchanting sight – a row or six or seven wall-less huts with thatched roofs on stilts along the shores of a lake. They could only be reached by walking across a wooden walkway that was rickety at best and not accustomed to carrying the weight of westerners, but we took our chances and made it safely to one of the huts arranged with a table and chairs and two hammocks where you could relax while you waited for your food. The service was fast and impeccable; the food was great, and all at the modest price of $15 for the entire family and the driver, including drinks.

What we found most frustrating about this drive is that we had to suppress our constant urge to ask the driver to stop so that we might take pictures. We knew we didn’t have enough time, but decided that once we get our car, we will return solely for that purpose. The photo opportunities are endless. We saw so much beauty, but also crazy contraptions on wheels and means of transport that we couldn’t have imagined in our wildest dreams. Chickens and ducks being transported in bushels on motorbikes, and pigs attached upside down (alive!!) to the back of a motorbike, bikes with baskets piled high. As long as you can strap it on, anything goes.

We finally made it to Siem Reap six hours after leaving Phnom Penh, and after some searching, we found our hotel, Le Pavillon d’Orient. Fred had researched it on the internet, and the reviews were unanimous on Trip Advisor, which is a rare thing, so we felt pretty confident in our choice. When I saw the entrance, I must admit my heart sank and I thought “I should have double-checked this”. All we could see was an overgrown wall with a opening in it. But as the friendly staff greeted us and led us through the gate, it felt like we were entering the Secret Garden, and I knew my initial fears had been unfounded. They led us to the reception area which was in the bottom part of a traditional wooden house (ie. outdoors), asked us to have a seat and promptly brought us some icy cold washcloths and iced green tea, both greatly appreciated in this heat. After the formalities were taken care of, we were walked down a pathway meandering through the lush gardens, past the pool and to our rooms. They were decorated in a typical colonial style, and there was a fresh fruit platter to greet us. We didn’t have much energy after the long drive, and after all, this was supposed to be holidays, so we changed into our swimsuits, donned the hotel bathrobes, and headed to the pool to relax, and plan the next day’s outing.

To be continued...

Move Delayed

We were all terribly excited about moving into our new house on the first of July, but thanks to administrators at Fred's work who seem to be sleeping on the job, and a moving company that didn't inform us of the need for the employer to issue certain documents in order for our household goods to clear customs, our belongings are still being detained. We got the keys to the house yesterday, but won't be moving in just yet since there is nothing there except a ping pong table and a drum set that we bought from the previous tenants. I wish we had bought their daybeds... We may be moving in NEXT weekend, if we're lucky... Sniff!

Article about the Irrawaddy Dolphins

An interesting - and sad - article about the Irrawaddy Dolphins - a species living only in the Mekong River in Cambodia.

http://www.panda.org/wwf_news/news/?uNewsID=167001

Monsoon Season

Caroline is napping, and the two older ones went to visit some kids upstairs, so I am quickly taking advantage of this rare moment of silence and freedom to ease into my chair in front of the computer to work on a new post. Could it be this is already becoming an addiction? As a child and teenager, I used to keep a diary, but then as I got older, I let the habit slip, I guess I got too busy with other things – studies, then getting established as an interpreter, and finally having kids. Children have a tendency to just take over our lives, and if we aren’t careful they can run us down just like an 18-wheeler would. Well, maybe not literally, but the results can be just as devastating. Fred and I have never been good at making time for ourselves after we had children, and this got even worse when we moved to the Netherlands. We were grappling with having a newborn again, and we never really found any exciting places to go. Now, we are slowly rediscovering our freedom. But it is still very elusive. But I digress.

Monsoon season is a period of heavy rainfall in South East Asia lasting from June until September, and follows a hot and dry season in April and May. The summer monsoons are responsible for close to 80 percent of the total annual rainfall in Cambodia and other parts of the region. These rains are critical to agriculture here. This year, Cambodians were saying it was starting early, as we already experienced the first heavy rains only days after our arrival in Phnom Penh. But somehow, although the rain came early, it has not been abundant. Usually it rains at least once a day, often twice daily, but so far, the rain has been very sporadic. In fact, we’re lucky to have rainfall 3 times a week. I wonder if this has anything to do with climate change. I read an article stating that scientists were predicting a weakened monsoon season for Asian countries in the future due to rising temperatures. This would have a devastating effect on the region’s agriculture. But I suppose all of that can change in no time. Then I suppose we’ll be house-ridden, and will be looking for all sorts of indoor activities to keep us occupied.

Actually, as I was sitting here, I heard the distant roll of thunder, and the promise of rain is heavy in the air. While I’ve been philosophizing about parenthood and the loss of freedom, the day has gone dark. Heavy clouds are looming ominously above, the wind is picking up, and any minute the rain will be coming down in heavy sheets. As much as I loathed the rain in the Netherlands, I love it here. The sheer intensity of it thrills me. With the first drops of rain starting to fall and the sound of the thunder growing louder, Helena and Thomas reappear and Caroline awakes from her nap, so what else is there to do but pop some popcorn and curl up in the sofa together to watch a movie? If monsoon season means you have to drop what you’re doing instantly and enjoy life, I think I’m really going to like it!

Shopping in Phnom Penh

This morning, Fred and I took off on our weekly trip to the market, while the kids stayed home watching TV and playing computer games. We stopped at the Boeng Keng Kang market (our local neighborhood market) and bought some fresh fruit: mangosteen, $.80/kg; passion fruit, $1.25/kg; 1 pineapple, $ 0.50; 1 watermelon, $1. The people are lovely: always full of smiles and laughter. No one ever gets offended if you ask the price of something they’re selling, and then say you don’t want to buy it. Never any angry faces or comments (not that I would understand anyway!!), only helpful people trying to ease communication (and relieve you of some of your dollars). There is a sense of community here that I have never seen anywhere else. When one vendor doesn’t speak English, his neighbor will bend across his produce and try to translate. If a vendor doesn’t have passion fruit, he won’t just reply no, but he’ll point you in the direction of someone who does.
There is a section of the market that can best be described as a string of beauty salons where Khmer women go to get their hair done, or to get a pedicure or manicure. Out of curiosity, I asked the price of a pedicure. $1.50 with a single color varnish (no design). I suppose if I need a pedicure and I can’t afford to pay the $6 they charge at Lucky Salon, I can always head to the BKK market…
When we were done, found our tuk tuk (they wait for you on the street while you do your shopping), and asked the driver to take us to the Tuol Tompeng Market (AKA Russian Market). As we approached, the streets were teeming with people, and we realized that the market was closed, and all the people in the street were actually the vendors demonstrating. We couldn’t find out what they were demonstrating about, but we decided there was no sense in prolonging our stay there, so we asked the driver to take us to the Central Market. There, we picked up a pair of flip flops for Caroline ($2), some nice cotton materials that I have to take to a tailor to have some clothes made, and lastly 1kg of fresh shrimp for $6/kg ($3/lb). Since the Central Market is being renovated, much of the permanent structure is closed and the vendors have set up stalls under aluminum sheets, so it gets very hot, and the ground is often quite muddy, and trying to navigate through the vendors who all have something to sell you and the beggars who all hope you’ll give them a little something can be quite strenuous, and the heat quite overpowering, so it wasn’t too long until we made our way home, to the cool shade of the gardens and the refreshing water of the pool. On reading the newspaper by the pool, I discovered that the vendors at the Russian Market were protesting against plans to remodel the market. They fear it will lose its appeal with tourists and foreigners, and also that they will be unable to do business as usual, and they rely on their incomes to feed their families.

Amnesia on a Friday Night

After a long week at work for Fred, we decided to go out for a drink after supper at home with the kids. We left the children in the care of the security guards at the apartments, and headed out into the soft, sultry heat so characteristic of evenings in Phnom Penh (it reminds me a lot of Louisiana). We made our way through the eager cries of “tuk tuk, sir?” just outside Embassy Place, and strolled unhurriedly around the corner and down the street to Flavor’s Restaurant, a street café that we have taken a particular liking to, mainly because of a drink they serve called “Amnesia”. It is made with Tequila, Cointreau, Grenadine and fresh passion fruit. Tonight, this was just what we needed to unwind! It was only 7.00pm, but the night swathed us in its veil of warm darkness. In the shadows, beyond the branches of a tree we could hear some muffled voices, and as our eyes adjusted to the dark we could distinguish several figures – three, maybe four – sitting on the balustrade of a balcony. There were also several people sitting on the sidewalks and leaning up against the walls. Cambodians spend most of their time outdoors, grabbing a seat wherever they can; on the edge of the sidewalk, on the street, or napping in a hammock that they attach between any two objects that will carry their weight. We emerged from the dark, quiet street, to the slightly busier street 51, and crossed it and found a couple of seats at the bar. The contrast was, once again, startling. Flavor’s is a favorite with the expat community, and the clientele is exclusively made up of foreigners who, just like us, seek out places like this. Why do we go here, and not mingle with the locals? I don’t know. Maybe because they don’t make Amnesias in places for locals. Or maybe because it’s reassuring to be in a place that is vaguely reminiscent of the places back home. One can only handle so much culture shock.

Markets in Phnom Penh

Here is another link to some pictures we took when we visited some of the most well-known markets in Phnom Penh on Saturday.
http://picasaweb.google.com/lecocqsincambodia/MarketsInPhnomPenh#slideshow/5345579584057952562

The Streets of Phnom Penh

I thought that instead of writing so much, it might be interesting if I just posted some pictures of what we see on our daily tuk tuk ride. Easier said than done. I am no computer wiz, and now I've been sitting here all morning trying to upload pictures to my blog. I tried to upload another slide show, but even though I had no problems last time, this time the programs just won't cooperate. So, I tried to upload some pictures directly into my posting, but only managed to upload one so far, even though it tells me that the upload was successful. Grrr! This was supposed to be a way of keeping in touch with many without it taking too long! I've got quite a few neat shots, too. I suppose I shall have to paste the link to my picasa web album, so that you can go there and have a look. I hope you enjoy, and that you're not too shocked by some of the pictures.
http://picasaweb.google.com/lecocqsincambodia/StreetsOfPhnomPenh

Easy Like a Sunday Morning

On Sunday, since it was overcast and slightly cooler than usual, we decided to have breakfast out, and then go for a walk in the riverside area. Since we're not quite ready for a Khmer breakfast (which generally consists of rice or noodles), we broke our fast with melt-in-your-mouth crepes, French toast, fresh fruit and juices at a restaurant called the Bopha Titanic, which overlooks the river. As we sat there, we observed all the traffic on the river, and many locals out on their fishing boats casting their nets in the hopes of getting a catch. Once breakfast was consumed, we started out on our walk, which took us past some quite trendy cafes and restaurants which are adjacent to an odd assortment of shops, kiosks, pirated DVD/CD stores and photocopy and translation services. Suddenly, on the sidewalk up ahead, we saw several monkeys, just hanging out, nibbling on something. Turns out we were approaching the main post office which is their favorite hangout. As we got closer, they very nonchalantly started climbing up the gate in front of the main door, and then grabbed on to some wires that took them up to the top of the wall where they very nimbly passed through the barbed wire and onto the roof. We continued down the street and came to a great playground which was packed, mainly with little Khmer kids. Caroline had a ball, until we all got too hot and decided to head for the shade of the trees surrounding Wat Phnom. One of the most important pagodas in Phnom Penh, it is also the tallest religious structure of the city. Dating back to 1373, the original pagoda has gone through numerous changes but remains a popular place for locals to come and pray for good fortune. It is reached by a winding staircase that is guarded by statues of lions and serpents. You have to make your way through a horde of vendors and beggars but it’s worth it to check out this true slice of local life. The trees around Wat Phnom are filled with monkeys, but locals warned us to be careful and carry Caroline, as the monkeys are prone to be aggressive, and can attack. Someone was going on an elephant ride, and that was a fun sight. We’re leaving that experience for cooler days to come. From Wat Phnom, we started in the direction of home, and soon stopped in a little boutique selling crafts hand made by disabled people, a way of helping them make a living despite their disability. That’s where Caroline picked up her little puppet. I’m sure we’ll be going back there once we settle; they had some nice things in there. We decided to take a tuk tuk home, because Caroline was getting tired, and it had gotten hot, and we found a tuk tuk driver who kinda looked like a Khmer version of Julek! At home we all jumped in the pool to cool off.

It’s hard to believe we’ve already been here a month – in a way, it feels like we only just arrived. I still haven’t really taken any photos, at least, not any of great interest. I keep on telling myself I have to take the camera with me next time, but I’m still too busy very selfishly trying to take it all in myself. It’s so very different from anything I’ve ever known until now (besides, I have to remember to buy batteries for the camera, cause the battery recharger ended up going with the movers…).

I feel like I should write something intelligent, but for now, my days are filled only with practical considerations, like finding my way about, getting to the different markets, figuring out what they sell at each one, and how much things cost; how much they really cost, not how much they want to charge the barang (khmer for foreigner). In addition to that, I’ve been using every waking moment to house hunt, which has proven to be no easy task. It seems like Cambodian landlords haven’t heard of the financial crisis. Decent housing here is incredibly expensive and hard to come by. In BKK1 (Boeng Keng Kang Mooi), the main expat neighborhood, which is where the international school is located, as well as most of the good shops and restaurants and cafes, we soon discovered that it’s difficult, if not impossible, to find a house in good condition that’s big enough for a family of five for $2000. Most landlords are asking $2500 - $3000 or more. Gardens are a luxury, and if you want a house with one, you have to find out about it before it’s even advertised for rent. Nevertheless, we finally found a house with a respectable garden, and signed the lease agreement yesterday!! We will be paying more than we can afford (UN rental subsidy is not as generous as that of other organizations), but we decided it’s important for the kids to be comfortable. The room layout is somewhat odd, but we’ll get used to it, I suppose. It won’t be available until July, so we have to stay in our temporary accommodation until then, but the serviced apartment complex we’re staying in is very pleasant, and there’s a swimming pool, which is practical since these are the hottest months of the year. We all enjoy hanging out there, especially Caroline, who has learned how to swim already!!

I did it!

I did it. I managed to create a blog!! Now I have no more excuses. So many of you asked me to write and relate our experiences in Cambodia, that I decided to take my sister's advice and create a blog so that family, friends and others can follow us in our latest adventure. As I have never done anything like this in the past, I'm sure it may seem a little clumsy in the beginning, but I feel confident that once I get the hang of it, I will have great stories to tell, and, in time, great pictures to go with them. Now that I've managed to create the blog, I need to sit back with a nice long drink, and think about what my first contribution will be about...