Roughing it

I haven’t logged onto the internet in years. Okay, it’s actually only been about 15 days, but I decided to enjoy my first few weeks in Cambodia without trying to squeeze in a few slow minutes on the web while fighting with a decaying PC as other volunteers waited to do the same. My brilliant – or maybe not so brilliant – plan was to wait until we moved to our training sites, where I would only be sharing computer time with 10 other people. Naturally, I was placed in the most rural of the three villages which doesn’t have internet. Or a post office.

I would describe my training village, Tuk Phos, as “rustic.” I’m living with a charming woman, her husband and my three host siblings. Our primary form of communication is charades and bit of broken Khmai and English. I think they told me my host father is a pig farmer, but it’s hard to tell. Although their voices get louder as they repeat phrases I don’t understand again and again, my ability to comprehend still remains at the level of a two year old. Funny how that works. I’ve noticed my host mother stays at home to cook, clean and participate in the daily gossip-fest with the neighbors.

I love when the neighbors come over. They usually want to gawk at me and giggle at all the ridiculous things I do. As my dad noticed the last time we spoke on the phone, the term “novelty princess” now has a new meaning since I am the novelty. Cambodian people think almost everything we brang (foreigners) do is hilarious. As we ride our bikes down the street we often hear people calling out, “hullo, hullo, where you go? Brang, brang, what is your name?” followed by hysterical laughter as we swerve around the oncoming motos, barely miss the cow, chicken, goat, small child, or fill in the blank, idling on the street.

Despite the lack of internet, Tuk Phos is absolutely beautiful. The window in my room overlooks expanses of rice fields as far as the eye can see. The chartreuse green of new rice creates a stark contrast against the deep black-blue haze of distant mountains. The rhythm of life in Tuk Phos is slow, but vibrant. I wake up at 5:30 every morning, sweep my room, take a quick bucket shower, dress and battle with my hair until I am somewhat presentable and then bike into town to have breakfast with the other trainee’s in my village. We have language training at KimKong’s (affectionately King Kong’s) house for four hours and then we take a brief hiatus for lunch and a mid-afternoon nap.

The afternoons are usually as busy as the mornings and suddenly, its dinner time with the family. After dinner, I chat with my sister and swing in our hammock. My sister, Kim-Ayne, is 17 so we spend a lot of time together. I also have two younger siblings who like to bring me crabs, grasshoppers and other terrifying things that will make me literally jump into Kim-Anye’s arms. Tonight’s bug of choice: June beatles. And yes, I wasn’t kidding about jumping into my host sister’s arms. Two nights ago a grasshopper the size of my foot (translation: 4 inches post-trauma) landed on my neck. Enough said.

Every evening I teach my host sister and nephew a little bit of English before bed. Speaking of which, I’m fairly certain my host family wants me to marry my nephew. He had dinner with us one of the first nights I arrived. As we were eating, I could hear my family talking about me. Anglais and America are pretty hard words to miss, even if you don’t understand Khmai. All of sudden my host sister looks at me, points to my nephew and says, “Money in the bank! Money in the bank!” This, of course was followed by more hysterical laugher, pointing and the words “anglais … blah blah blah … sexy!” Dare I even fathom what that conversation was about? Have no fear, mom and dad, I have z-e-r-o desire to join my host family on a more … permanent … basis.
Bedtime is usually around 8:30, when I retire to my room to do a little reading before I pass out. The bugs come out around 8:00, and by 9:00, the barking—yes I said barking—geckos are in full swing! I have thankfully not had any contact with the enormous spiders that live in the area, although I did have a brief encounter with a mouse that set up shop in my room. It is not a good idea to leave fruit of any kind on my desk in the middle of the night because the mouse will steal it. Actually, it’s not a good idea to leave fruit on my desk in the afternoon either because the little s.o.b. isn’t scared of me at all. He also likes my soap, but I haven’t figured out a solution to that problem yet.
A typical night in Tuk Phos is a little less refreshaning than the days. I can usually drown out the sound of my host family’s t.v. through the paper thin walls with my iPod, but it’s pretty hard to miss our lovable howling dogs (LooLoo, Coca and Kiki) who lead a nightly neighborhood chorus anywhere from 12:00 – 3:00 a.m. Of course, there are also the confused roosters who feel the need to begin announcing the coming dawn at 3:02 and 22 seconds in case I had managed to miss the dogs. At least I don’t live near the temple because some of my friends have also noticed that the monks begin chanting at 4:00 a.m. No thank you.
Oh you know, just a typical day in the tropics, right? I’m not saying it isn’t hard sometimes or that I’m not already starting to crave cheese and red wine (although one of my favorite restaurants in Kampong Chnang does serve real French toast!) … but this is some adventure!!