so long, and thanks for all the rice

I have now left cambodia, and still am not sure how I feel about it.

The last weekend was as good as it could have been. I spent most of it at CCH helping out at the interviews for United World College candidates. There were two full scholarships available, to Atlantic College, the one that I went to, and Li Po Chun in Hong Kong. There were also two half scholarships, which have yet to be allocated, to UWC Costa Rica and Adriatic College in Italy. We started on Saturday morning with eighteen candidates.

The first day was easiest, each candidate had both an English and Khmer interview and some academic tests. My job was to oversee activities between interviews, which included role-plays, presentations and a great team exercise where they were given nothing but newspaper and told to build a bridge. I was also allowed to help mark the candidates, which was intimidating, as they wanted me to allocate marks based entirely on body language seeing as I couldn’t understand what was being said between team members. I suppose that was an interesting way to mark them as it meant I was focusing solely on what interaction and teamwork I was witnessing, without real reference to any of its context. But overall I think it was easy to weed out the ones that were perhaps not really UWC material, though they were all wonderfully bright kids.

So, we managed to narrow those eighteen down to seven, who returned the next day. They had another two, more in depth interviews and I spent time showing them all the college websites and answering questions they had about UWC. Then two were finally chosen, a girl to go to AC, who was clearly incredibly intelligent and focused, though I worry that she may not embrace the extra-curricular side of the college, and a boy to go to Hong Kong who was the least traditionally Khmer teenager I have met in 6 months. He was very open and inquisitive and definitely deserved the scholarship. It was hard watching the ones who were rejected leaving, knowing that though a couple of them may be able to afford a high standard of education in Cambodia, for most this process had very much been a case of all or nothing, and they would have to work harder than anyone their age could be expected to in order to get as far as UWC would have led them. Still, they showed so much spirit that I have no doubt they will all end up doing what they want to in some form or another.

Being back at CCH was wonderful. The girls all remembered me and were so affectionate that it made it hard to leave them. I was able to be there for the usual Saturday night disco, this time a special one because an Israeli man, who was sponsoring two of the boys from the brother home of CCH, had come to see how they were and had bought soft drinks and special food for everyone. Papa Sohka (as the children call him), the director, is also a musician, and he played live music on a little keyboard while one of the older boys sang Khmer pop songs for everyone to dance to. One older girl sat with me after the dancing. She showed me the book of english proverbs she was reading and told me about how she would love to go to a UWC. She was so inquisitive and smart. She asked questions like “why do we fall in love” and “would you like to be a millionaire” as I continually struggled to give coherent answers. She told me that her biggest wish was to ride on an airplane and go to a country where it snowed.

When I left in a tuktuk, Sohka came up to say goodbye. As Chris had warned me, Sohka is very shy with foreign people, and had said nothing to me until that point except for when I asked him a question about the interviews and he said to talk to his assistant. But he shook my hand and thanked me for my help and made me promise to come back and visit, which meant a lot.

In the evening on Sunday I went to the cinema that I love, with the Canadian boys I met from Siem Reap. I stayed at a guesthouse I had been to a few times before, and the guy there greeted me at the door saying “You no book room. No worry, you remember me? I remember you, I give you same room as last time!”.

So, I left the guesthouse at 7am the next day, and now I’m in Bangkok waiting to fly home. I feel like I’ve left somewhere behind that was home, even though I would never be able to call it that.

I think I will write once more when I finally arrive in Wales, by which time I will hopefully have a more articulate-able understanding of what this trip has really meant. I will also add the pictures from the last few days, because my camera is now packed away.

temples and other things

I decided to spend the last week or so of my trip as a tourist in Siem Reap and I think it was the best decision I’ve made. Having time to breath and gift shop and chat to people about their travels and my own has given me time to dwell on my time here and really warm down to leaving.

The first few days I spent in Siem Reap were in the company of the only other under-twenty-year-old tourists I’ve found in this whole six months. I met them at the hostel and joined them on a trip into the woods where we set up camp; myself, a Scottish girl called Yoshe, Canadian Jayden and a Moroccan guy called Rachid. We did very little except eating rice from plastic bags and chatting. Also, on the second night, we walked to Angkor Wat to watch the sunset, where I had my first temple experience. The beauty of the structure was undeniably beautiful but hard to appreciate in all its glory because there was renovation being done on the outside and it was too dark to see the inside. When we came back to the city, Yoshe, Jay and I celebrated rejoining civilization with a trip to an over-priced hotel swimming pool full of over 60s with perfect tans, and went for pizza together. It was lovely finding people just to wander with, if nothing else.

camping

Over the next few days I wandered the city and the surrounding area, swimming, walking, cycling and eating to my heart’s content. The Canadian guy and I hired mountain bikes and tried to get to the floating village, about 15km outside the city. The mission was doomed to failure, but made for a good story, if nothing else. We set off in the sweltering midday heat and by the time we reach a road that at all justified hiring mountain bikes, I was feeling seriously ill. We put the bike on a boat and crossed a small stretch of river and then after that there was not really a path to follow. After about a half hour of solid effort we ended up turning back, and made it back to the river. We put the bikes back on the boat but when I tried to walk across I stepped a little to far from the centre of the ramp down into the opaque water and fell in right up to my waist. I can imagine it must have been very funny to watch - the Cambodians around definitely appreciated the entertainment. And on the plus side, I didn’t feel ill anymore. Jayden had also, on the way back, managed to puncture one of his tyres, so I was able to dry off while we waited for it to be fixed and made our way slowly back to town. We then went to lunch, where it took way too much effort to explain to the Khmer waiter that in addition to my meal, I wanted a small bag of uncooked rice. He was further confused when he finally succeeded in bringing me that, by the fact that I put my camera in it to dry it off - which successfully fixed it!

The Wales-France match turned out to be a mission to watch and was much less satisfying than watching the England match in Phnom Penh. I was persuaded to join Jayden and another friend of his (who, entertainingly, has been going everywhere in a full suit for 30 days, without a break, for a bet, and therefore manages to start conversations with strangers just because he looks so overdressed all the time) to go to a club. So I ended up sitting at the bar, trying my best to pay attention to the rugby when the music was blaring and no one else cared about the match at all. I felt very antisocial and a little silly, but still, the outcome of the match made up for it!

I decided to splash out and return to the floating village to see it properly by boat alone. I somehow ended up with a whole boat to myself and the place was definitely worth the trip. The village was spread out over the Tonle Sap lake, a series of floating buildings which you could only move between by boat. One of them was an orphanage and the others were houses, shops, restaurants. On one of them was a catfish farm and a crocodile farm and I also visited a little museum/aquarium. In boats around each building, children sat with snakes round their necks, as a money making tactic for all the tourists that passed through, though I’m not sure how entrepreneurial holding a snake up to a tourist and saying “snake!” can be.

crocodile farm on the floating village

the floating village

Three days of templing followed, and though the temples were possibly one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen, wandering round them for hours at a time was not my idea of a good day. On the last day however, I managed to find the perfect way to see them. I went to Ta Phrom, or the Tomb Raider temple, which was almost completely overtaken by trees. I spent hours there, sat in a window reading, which ended up pleasing a lot of Koreans who wanted their photos taken with me.

Bayon

Sunrise at Angkor Wat

Ta Phrom

One evening I went to a children’s shadow puppet and traditional dance show. The show itself was not exactly good, it was full of inaccuracy. When you took into account however, that it was performed by deaf dancers accompanied by blind musicians, then a little inaccuracy in their synchronization can definitely be forgiven. And, if nothing else, the costumes were stunning.

I also visited an international school in the town. The principal was an friend of a friend and showed me around. It was possibly the best school I have seen in Cambodia, showing how much is possible when you rely on parents’ money as opposed to donations. They had murals everywhere and lovely classrooms and sports equipment pouring from every orifice. Maybe one day UWS will be like that… hopefully.

And now I am in Phnom Penh, back at CCH for the United World College interviews, waiting for someone to tell me how I can help out. In that under-organised Cambodian way I’m not sure they ever had a job for me to do, but now I’m here so I hope they use me.

Home on Monday...

hunting for treasure

My last week of teaching in Cambodia was different again to everything I’ve done so far. The quietness of the place, an orphanage in the middle of nowhere, about an hour from Siem Reap, was similar to that of the jungle, so I had plenty of time for reading and other calm, solo pass-times. The place itself however, was very different to anywhere I have been so far. The project was very well established and though they seemed to have significant financial obstacles to overcome, they had still achieved an incredible amount in the short few years since they had started. There weren’t many kids living there, around 30 or 40 in total, all from about 7 to 18 years old. They had three classrooms for English lessons and a primary ad secondary school close by. They had also developed a farm where they grew rice and vegetables and fruit and had a huge fish pond, so they were able to grow enough to feed themselves and also sell some to earn money to run the generator and buy animal feed for the various chickens and pigs wandering around. I ate and lived alone so had plenty of quiet time, a nice contrast to CCH. But the director would sit and drink instant coffee with me every morning and tell me about all things he was doing for the orphanage and the jobs that needed doing and the problems they were facing. He rarely answered the questions that I actually asked, but I learned a lot anyway.

The teaching was really good fun. I was teaching English again, primary in the morning and secondary in the afternoon. The younger children were a challenge, but I had a translator for when I needed it. And mostly, all they expected from a foreign teacher was just a lot of good games, so it ended up being very chilled out and giggly. I was shocked by how many mistakes the teachers made during teaching English, but I suppose as long as the kids learn to communicate in another language it will be a job well done, whether their grammar is perfect or not. The oldest class I had was the best because their English was good enough that I could build up a strong relationship with them. I was impressed by the higher levels in the Cambodia English curriculum. The older kids were doing comprehension exercises on topics such as democracy and environmental protection, albeit a little basically.

The last day I spent teaching was the best. I played games the whole time because that is what the kids wanted to do, so in the morning we played simple vocabulary games and when teaching was over, which was earlier than usual because it started raining (the Cambodians react to rain as the Welsh do to snow). Then my translator offered to take me to see a private village primary school where I ended up doing a quick lesson as well. Then, in the afternoon I played Pictionary with the older kids, which they all loved, once they had stopped being self conscious. And for my favourite class I also made a short treasure hunt which ended up being the funniest thing I have seen in a while. They were given a list of instructions - “turn right, take four steps” etc - and ended up just following each other and going round in groups. They got it in the end though and seemed to have a lot of fun.

A little downer on the week was that my wallet was stolen soon after I arrived there, probably by someone from the nearby village. After a couple of days it showed up again, having been left at the side of the road once they had taken my money and also, for some reason, my photos. That wasn’t until after I had cancelled my card however, so I had to get hold of emergency cash which was worryingly easy. Somehow it’s easy to feel that as long as someone knew my date of birth and address and managed to steal my passport, then they could empty my account with very little hassle, and almost untracably. But there you go, all’s well that ends well.

chicks in the classroom

my classroom

hiding from the rain

the fish pond, with an armchair for fishing from

the only transport

19-12 to Wales, and a whole lot of grammar

The last week has gone by in a flash. My first week out alone in Cambodia. Though being on my own has been brilliant - not having to worry about anyone else - there is nothing like being surrounded by people you don’t know very well to make you feel lonely. I have been working in a school in the South of Phnom Penh. After being in the tourist centre of the city, this was a whole other world. This area was like an equally impoverished, urban version of the villages I worked in in Ratanakiri. The houses were the same size, though this time made from corrugated iron instead of wood, and the streets were lined with dust and litter. The school - the Centre for Children’s Happiness (CCH) - is the hub school for UWS. This is something Chris has been trying to enforce both here in Cambodia, and in Sri Lanka, where Gilly is going to be working. The hub schools are schools that are already set up, by different people, that can potentially, in the future, have a part in UWS. CCH has been running for a long time and was set up to bring children off the streets. I stayed at the main centre - the school is spread out in a few different buildings - where most of the girls live. I shared a room with five other girls who have all been at CCH for different amounts of time, the longest being around 10 years. The youngest was just five years old.

The girls were all very welcoming. The eldest all wanted to practice their english all the time and the youngest would crowd around me for cuddles and play with my hair. So for a few days I have had to hide in classrooms or the library to get any time alone. Not ideal for my first few days traveling “alone”, but they were all undeniably kind and sweet and seemingly a little deprived of adult attention. They have one house mother, a wonderful smiling, but obviously strict Khmer lady, and Papa Sohka, who lives next door and set up the whole project, but who is very busy, though he tries to make time to play games with the girls in the evenings and has also set up a band with a couple of the older kids that rehearses some evenings. One thing I had against living there was the food, which, though admittedly tasty, always included rice. this would not have been an issue if they hadn't tried to feed me rice for breakfast! I don't care how long I've been in Cambodia, I am never eating rice for breakfast!

The teaching was exciting - I have never really taught in a classroom properly before, so standing in front of a class to teach English was scary to begin with. Most of the time I was just supporting another volunteer - a 20 year old Danish girl - so it was easier. It was interesting for me to be helping teach English grammar, as I know it all but have never really stopped to think about how many rules and irregularities there are. It is difficult to explain the intricacies of a language when, in you head, “that’s just how it is”.

The one thing I found hard about being at CCH was seeing the other volunteers work. Some were wonderful and energetic and good at teaching, but others were blatantly doing the Gap Year thing with very little understanding of what teaching really means. Many classes I saw descended into chaos.There was one memorable incident where a Begian couple arrived one evening to teach for a week. At 8am the next morning, they showed up at the centre, having managed all of 10 minutes of teaching and decided that they were going to leave because they were teaching kids who were younger than they expected, and didn’t know what to do with them. It’s moments like that which make me feel very good about myself, if also a little exasperated and astounded by the panic I witnessed.

Apart from working at CCH, I also managed to watch part of the 6 nations, something I haven’t been able to do before. I was emailed by the Welsh boy I met in Kampot, who asked if I wanted to meet and watch the game together. I went to a bar by the riverside in Phnom Penh and watched the match. There must have been at least 15 Welshies there and the atmosphere was so like that of a pub in Wales that I had to keep looking out at the tuk-tuk filled street to remind myself that I was still in Cambodia.

So, week one alone has been an overall success, I haven’t lost any money, had anything stolen or been taken in by any creepy strangers. Tomorrow I head off to Siem Reap for three weeks to teach in an orphanage. We’ll see what that’s like. I am refusing to have any expectations - apparently I expect too much from things...

the youngest

the cafeteria

play time

evening studying

some of my English students

stepping out alone

So, my first few days outside of Ratanakiri since our visit to Hoi An in October were interesting. Gilly, Vera and I were set to leave Banlung at 6am on the 17th, by 6:30, Bella had come to join us in waiting, and by 7:30, when the bus finally arrived, the entire UWS team was there to see us off, having all arrived at the house to start working, or to pick things up. We spent a few days in Phnom Penh, being cosmopolitan; shopping in the Russian Market, watching live music and having coffee in gleaming white cafes with huge windows and balconies overlooking the river. Gilly left after one day, and the rest of us split up last Saturday, when Cathy and Ingvill went to Vietnam and Vera and I headed down to Kampot.

On the bus ride I watched as the landscape slowly morphed into flat plains with huge rocky hills protruding from them. Kampot itself is a very French colonial style town on a salty, clear river-estuary. We stayed in a dormitory in Bohdi Villa, a beautiful carved stone building with a wooden terrace extended out in three levels right down to the water’s edge. I was able to swim everyday and have proper English Breakfast tea and the guest house was completely full with a mixture of friendly young travelers and older hippies who wished they were still friendly young travelers. At night, if you touched the water, you would see thousands of phosphorescent algae that lit up whenever they came into contact with something. I had never seen phosphorescence before; it is the weirdest feeling to swim in the water and have a glittering glow around you wherever you move to.

On the first day in Kampot we went open-top kayaking on the river, and though I didn’t have time to complete the wonderful looking route that was suggested to me, it was really nice to get back in a kayak and do some proper outdoor sport again. It was nice to know that I can still do it. I suppose kayaking is like riding a bike; it becomes instinctual once you know how to do it.

The next day we went to the Kampot cave, Phnom Chnork. We arrived in a tuk tuk and we immediately bombarded by young children all with wonderful English. One girl was faster at talking to us than the others and became our guide around the caves. We had picked a good day to go, because the foot of the stairs to the cave was crowded by people and everywhere was decorated with banners and tinsel because there was a celebration of Buddha. The cave itself, up 203 steps, was full of stalactites and stalagmites, which according to our guide, were all in different shapes of animals, though that, as far as I was concerned, was down to personal interpretation. In the heart of the cave was a tiny, brick Hindu temple dedicated to Shiva. The simplicity of the 1,400 year old building is a complete contrast to the ornate natural structures around it.

Shiva's shrine

On our last full day in the South, Vera and I took a bus to the seaside town of Kep and then a rocky boat to Koh Tonsay (Rabbit Island), a journey on which we saw, not the shaols of fish promised by the guide book, but a couple of dolphins, not more that a few meters from the boat. If ever there was and island paradise, it was this. Golden sand led from the flat sea up to thatch-roofed restaurants and massage beds and behind them, the island rose into emerald hilltops. I spent the day beach-combing, reading, swimming. I also spent a good part of the time snorkeling, following shawls of tiny silver fish and watching bigger ones nibbling at coral. What cut into this paradisiacal day, was that, where ever you looked, there was litter, albeit more hidden than in other places. And the first thing we saw on coming back to the mainland was another beach, not golden, but grey and piled knee-high with rubbish. That evening we went out to a British style pub with some people we had met at our guest house - a German girl, a Canadian boy and a French boy, who hated France and lived in Barcelona. The pub was hosting a pub-quiz and we entered as the “international team”. Considering all of us were under 25 except the Canadian (who answered most of the questions) we did quite well and managed to scrape 2nd place. The team that won were given a huge jug of beer to share, and because of our effort, one of the winners came and offered us some free beer. The boy who came over ended up being a Steff from Caerdydd who was fluent in Welsh so I spent a very happy half hour speaking Welsh for the first time in 5 ½ months - a time period which I embarrassingly discovered has a significant impact on your ability to speak a language! Then, after teaming up with the French boy to be thrashed at pool by a middle-aged Northerner and his stunning Khmer wife, we called it a night and the next morning headed back up to Phnom Penh, where Vera and I finally parted ways. So, now I’m out on my own…

the mountain of gems

It’s finally time to say good-bye to Ratanakiri, to Banlung, to the UWS house and to everything that has been my home for the last five months. Waves of nostalgia wash over me as I go through last times and good-byes.

It’s been a heavy last few weeks. We had to do creative arts teacher training with the teachers from all our schools. Gilly gave the four of us responsibility for a workshop each - Music, Drawing, Modeling and Drama. I did music and got very over excited and over complicated the whole thing and so ended up getting through about half of what I had planned. But it was a lot of fun, and I think the teachers really enjoyed it. By the end, I managed to get three groups of teachers all to perform a Cambodian pop song with home made instruments and singing, which was enough to make me smiling and satisfied.

making paper instruments

pop singing

Vera's drawing workshop - proportion

sport

We also went to Jong for two nights, the four girls, Gilly and Sitha. Jong is the village furthest away from Banlung and the school has had lots of problems with attendace. Nevertheless, the children showed up, not only from 7-11am two days in a row, but also in the afternoon as well. Gilly took charge and the rest of us followed her. We played lots of sport and did drawing with the kids based around a story that we brought with us. We also took out loads of logic games, which Ingvill and I taught the kids how to use, and which they were completely enthralled by. In the afternoon we made cat puppets. Sitha read the children the story, and then Gilly asked if anyone wanted to make a puppet. Only two children said yes. However, by the end of the two hour session, every child bar one boy had made a puppet and they all took them home happily. There was a lovely moment when one of the fathers showed up to watch and asked if he could make a cat too. It’s one thing to know that before UWS these villages had no education, but another to see the joy with which this father took part in the lesson, having never had such an opportunity before. Then, when we had taken a photo of all the kids with their puppets and sent them home, the one boy who had refused to make one stayed behind looking tearful and asked to make one too, so we sat down and went through the steps with him and his face lit up slowly, until he skipped off to the village clutching his creation. The whole trip made me realise that what Gilly expected of us was no more than what we had been already doing in the schools before. I can’t help thinking though, that it would have been nice to know what was expected of us before we started, not at the end! All in all, the trip, what with sleeping under the stars and watching the sunset to the soundtrack of Sitha’s guitar, and washing by the well with the village women, was a wonderful final team project.

Sitha telling the story

Helping the littlest with his pupper

the father joining in

all the cats

We had evaluations with Chris yesterday and I seems as though the four of us all had very similar points to make. We all said that time in the villages should be shorter, that there should be more teaching time and that there needed to be more serious thought put into the project’s structure in general, among other smaller points. I don’t know whether any of our points were taken on board, or how much will have changed when new people come from Atlantic College in September, but the information is there, whether it is used or not. As far as I’m concerned, we made the most of what we had; being Guinea pigs for the project was bound to have both upsides and downsides and more than anything it would have helped to have had more planning in place before we got there. But there was no way of knowing whether what we did would work until we did it. And what we did was, I think, good for the kids, even if it’s had no lasting impact on the schools’ futures.

So it’s good bye to Banlung, and on to Phnom Penh at 6am in the morning. Leaving behind the town that, as Vera said when we first arrived, is like an abandoned house that people are lovingly squatting in. I will miss feeling at home here and I will miss the lake and the friendly people and the schools and the red Ratanakiri dust. But it’s on to the last month of my trip, I can’t have come all this way without seeing more of Cambodia than just this little, littered, red, jungled corner.

in the market

banlung and the red dust

UWS house

small world, lots to see - Tackok Charai in pictures

the bridge between the village and the school

my sleeping corner

washing clothes in the river

up the village

down the village

pigs

a typical Charai house

the old man who never smiles

looking after the younger siblings

where we washed

my favourite kid

Add captionwhere we washed when there was no water left where we usually washed

casava harvesting

camera-lover

more pigs

the entrance to the village

the river

the view of the school from the bridge