I am currently working on the updated Peace Corps guide to Siem Reap. This is what I have so far.
Welcome to Siem Reap! Hopefully this guide will help orient you to all that Siem Reap Town has to offer to PCV’s. There are a lot of western options here because of the tourists who invade the town looking for a glimpse of the famous Angkor Wat. However, one should know that this is also a curse. You will have to carefully budget your money because it can quickly slip through your fingers. Using khmer as often as you can will also differentiate yourself from tourists, and will help you get lower prices in the market. We hope this is helpful, and we look forward to meeting you!
Markets and Shops
There are several markets spread around Siem Reap town. The Old Market or Psar Chas and the Central Market (located downtown) cater mostly to tourists but are a great stop when t-shirts (one to two dollars, don’t pay more than this) you brought from home start to wear out. These markets offer gifts or local crafty items such as bags, scarves, shoes, and art. You can also find the “Cambodian market” further inside and get cheap fruits, veggies, clothes, and beauty products. Farther out of town is the Psar Lue (on Hwy 6 to Phnom Penh) which is one of the main markets for general goods. It’s less conveniently located but a good stop for food and other necessities you can’t find in your local market. At night there is also the Siem Reap Night Market. Again this is mainly geared to sell souvenirs to tourists but can be a fun and interesting place to browse or spend an evening. There is also a conveniently located bar there if certain individuals get tired of shopping and would rather sit down for a drink.
There are several Western-style supermarkets for your convenience. The Angkor Market on the Sisovath Boulevard offers everything – cheese, wine, milk, ice cream, canned foods, peanut butter…and a range of cosmetics and other goodies (peanut butter M&M’s can only be found here). Across the street from Angkor Market is Lucky Mall. Step inside its glass doors and you will be transported instantly back to America. It looks and feels like a western supermarket in every way, but don’t get carried away! A lot of what PCV’s shop for here are things they can take back to site with them for long periods of time; i.e. peanut butter, oatmeal, cereal, ketchup, pancake mix, and other things like that. Luckafé also has very good gelato and cold caffeinated beverages.
U-Care Pharmacy is your one-stop-shop for your entire cosmetic and health needs. It’s kind of like a miniature Walgreen’s or CVS that found itself stranded in Cambodia. The staff is friendly and helpful, and you can usually find anything you need.
Siem Reap Book Center is a stationary store between U-Care and The Blue Pumpkin. This store is great for stationary needs for school or personal use. They care a wide variety of papers, pens, books, and other things like globes, toys, art supplies, and have a great selection of nice postcards. They can also order specific books or supplies that might not be found in your village bookshop.
Restaurants and Bars
Are you craving a certain type of food? Are you just aching to have it again? Then congratulations! You have arrived at the right place. Any meal that you desire can be prepared for you here. The town offers food from nations all across the world, and is a cornucopia of delicious meals. However, be forewarned that other volunteers will hate you for having this place as your provincial town. Here are some of our favourites:
Blue Pumpkin: Great coffee, chic ambiance, and free wi-fi. It can get crowded with tourists as they day wears on. The couches upstairs are particularly comfortable, and the cinnamon ice cream is particularly good. Baked goods are also half price after 8PM.
Common Grounds Café: More comfortable than Blue Pumpkin and usually a big quieter. Offers a wide variety of coffee. Free wi-fi and also a desktop with internet connection for customers to use. French toast, pancakes, and the Baguette-Me-Not are all good choices for breakfast, and the lunch sandwiches are also very good. Closed on Sundays.
Viva! Mexican: Has most Mexican favorites like tacos, enchilada, and chimichangas. Saturdays are $1 taco and margarita nights.
El Camino: Viva’s rival. Opinion goes back and forth between which one is better. El Camino offers bigger portions and uses more spices, but it costs a little more.
Pizza Company: Like Pizza Hut in the states, with similar prices. Still, it is air-conditioned and never disappointing.
Swenson’s Ice Cream: Sundaes, banana splits, chocolate milk shakes, ice cream cones…
Paper Tiger: Free wi-fi, variety of food, and free book trade. On bar street.
NYDC: Expensive, but if you are really craving a burger these are probably better than anything you could make on the grill at home. Really good cheesecake too.
Angkor What!?: If you are looking for a place to grab a drink, this a popular spot but can be a little rowdy and packed in high tourist season (October to March). Also many other bars line the streets here so it’s easy to find a good watering hole.
Red Piano: Good western food at cheaper prices. Ideal for breakfast or lunch when it is not too crowded.
There are also lots of good Khmer restaurants around that are less expensive. The ones in the old market are pretty good, but there are other scattered across the town you might try and like.
Email and Internet Access
There are several choices for internet access. If you have a laptop, go to a place with wifi to help protect yourself from viruses. If not, one the best places in town is Wow Web next to the ACLEDA bank. Their computers all have virus software and a pretty quick connection. Many volunteers go to this place to use Skype because the connection is very reliable. 3000r an hour.
Telephone Access
International calling from Siem Reap is possible from most internet joints but much more expensive than Phnom Penh. Calls to the states average 2000r a minute where as Phnom Penh is about 100r a minute. It’s smart to save calls for a Phnom Penh trip.
Transport
Transportation in Siem Reap Town is easy as tuk tuks line the streets. To save on money however, we suggest bringing your bike along in a taxi from site, renting a bike, or purchasing a second bike ($30) to store in town. The money you save on tuk tuks will quickly pay you back for the purchase.
If you’re going to Phnom Penh, buses leave regularly from 6am-2pm from various companies. We usually ride Capital or Phnom Penh Sorya. Between $5-$6. There is also bus transport to Kampong Cham, Battambong and Sihanoukville but the schedules and prices are more variable. There are also mini-bus services that run between Phnom Penh and Siem Reap that are faster and more comfortable. Apsara Khmer, located near Highway 6, leaves twice daily for about $10 a person.
To and from specific sites will be different for each person. Once in Siem Reap Town you will need to find a pick-up truck taxi that is headed to your specific site. These trucks start running about 6am, and the last will leave about 30 minutes before dark. However, taxis only leave when full so there is no real set schedule. You would do well to develop a relationship with a taxi driver from your town. Remote sites off the national road will be much harder to get to.
Lodging
Hotels and guesthouses seem to be sprouting up every day. While most of these are catered towards package tourists and people with generally a lot of money, there are a couple of options for staying over night:
Popular Guesthouse: An old standby. The staff are friendly, and will remember you if you visit frequently. Most volunteers from other provinces stay here when they visit Siem Reap as well. Rooms range from $6 (cold shower, fan) to $12 (hot water, air-conditioning, TV). Located near the bend in the river off of Sisovath boulevard.
Udara: Standard room with wireless and air-conditioning for $15
Naga: Mosquito net, decent wireless, and cold water for $3 a night. Located near Hotel de la Paix.
MyHome: Apparently, this place gives discounts to volunteers. Located near the old market, it offers hot water, tv, and a fridge for $6 a night.
Medical Facilities
Getting sick/injured in this part of the world is scary, but fear not. Royal Angkor Hospital, located on the road to the airport, is a very good facility with an excellent western-trained staff. Chances are that if you need to go to the hospital for some reason, the PCMO will tell you to go to this one. Just remember to bring your Peace Corps ID with you, because otherwise you will have to pay for the treatment they give you.
Mail system
There is a post office in Siem Reap town that is open 7 days a week from 7AM to 3PM. It is great for outgoing mail, but getting mail is more difficult. With a large number of NGO’s in the city, there are currently no mailboxes available for PCV use. However, friends in town have reported that if you address the mail to the post office and put your phone number on it, the post office can call you and arrange for you to pick up your mail. While no current PCV has tried this yet, it might be worth testing to see if it works.
Leisure
As it is hot in Siem Reap swimming tends to be the easiest way to both exercise and reduce body temperature. Most hotels will allow you to use their swimming pools and gyms for around a $5 fee per day. There is also the Aqua Swimming pool, a public pool run by an Australian expat, for $2 a day (on the road to Angkor High School, with two spray painted signs outside the front that say “Aqua.” The front of it looks sketchy, but it is really quite nice inside). The Golden Banana guesthouse allows locals to use their swimming pool for free as long as you purchase something at their restaurant/bar.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Familiar Signs of Civilization
I went to Malaysia last month. Pretty much all of it was spectacular, but a highlight was seeing this guy hanging out with some good old fashioned American capitalism. But I never did get to that lagoon...
The English Club
I am constantly worried about what the students think of me. Can they see the anxiety surrounding my head when I walk into that classroom? Can they tell I am no better than a first year volunteer English teacher? Perhaps they can do both of these things, but they sure as hell don’t show it. Most of them keep an impenetrable attitude throughout the class; a flat expression that evades boredom, excitement, shock, and other emotions that I might have been able to arouse. Other than this, there is that smile. It responds to either some vague embarrassment, or just some feelings of satisfaction in listening to me speak. Either way, I can never tell what their reactions are. It is not their fault, for it is part of their culture. Besides, what did they expect of an American? Probably nothing. I cannot imagine what they felt like when I walked through that classroom for the first time. Having a green space creature speak to you in your native language would probably replicate the experience. They have warmed to me over the course of the year, but without a strong response to what I teach every week always leaves me with a feeling that I have somehow failed them.
The school year is over. I went on vacation for a few weeks, and I have come back to do some work on summer projects. Some weeks are filled with things to do, and others are not. My Khmer lessons have continued as usual, and I have about ten students that come to a summer English class. I teach them for four hours during the week, twice with two-hour sessions. The students who come to the class are not from the rice fields beyond the jungles in Poum Bott and Srey Snam. The class almost always comprises of a female majority. They come from the markets near by. They are the ones who can afford private classes and can speak better than most of the other students. They are the ones who will grow up and become the merchant class of Angkor. Perhaps they will even move into the professional class. These students scare me the most because they are the ones who can do the most with whatever I teach them. How can my lessons be adequate with that?
The students enjoy speaking, so I designed the class to revolve around conversation. I teach alone, for I have not seen my co-teacher for about a month now. It is better this way. When I teach with him, he usually translates everything I say into Khmer. The students often do not pay any attention to anything I say and just wait for his translation. When I teach alone, the students have to think for themselves. It is hard for them at first, but they get used to it.
It is a good class, but I still struggle to come up with lesson plans that the students will both enjoy and will improve their English abilities. I still have the nagging fear that I have no idea what I am doing (I don’t, but I have gotten far better at pretending that I do). Even writing this now, I know I have to walk into that class tomorrow at 7 AM and have a lesson ready to go that will last a good two hours.
The morning today went like this: at 6:15 AM I woke up, washed, dressed, and got ready for school. I went outside, locked my door, and walked to the front of our yard. I bought two waffles from the grandmother there, who put them into a plastic bag for me (she recently bought the cast iron waffle maker, which she uses over a charcoal fire to cook the batter). I was running a little late, and I walked quickly to school knowing that the students would be waiting for me. When I arrived at the school building, the room we use was still locked. I chatted with the students there for a bit, although their friends obviously had more entertaining conversation. None of us wore our school uniforms. When the room was open, I put my bag down on the teacher’s desk and mechanically began to unpack its contents. While the students were trickling in, I wrote on the board, “Today is July 23rd, 2009.” I told them that this marks the one-year anniversary of me coming to Cambodia. One girl threw me a look that seemed to say, “You want a medal for that, or something?”
I turned to each of them and engaged in a brief conversation. “Hi, how are you? Did you eat breakfast already? Did you hear the thunder last night?” and other questions like that are posed. I’m always poking and prodding them with words in order to get them to talk. Some students are better at this than others. Many are forced to giggle, make their heads fall into their chests, and turn to their friends for help before they can engage me with a thought or an answer.
I turned to the material I had prepared for the day. I gave each student a photocopied page of an article from the Phnom Penh Post. I am always trying to interest the students in current events, and this article was about the rate of mine accidents in Cambodia. I gave the students about fifteen minutes to read through the article and find all the words that they did not know. After this period was up, I wrote all the words on the board. I quickly explained what these words meant, and afterwards we looked at the article. I had a student read a paragraph at a time, and I quizzed them about the meaning. As a closing, we had a discussion about mines in Cambodia. They did not seem to know very much about them, but they did not seem very curious about them either. Again, I could not really gauge their interest. At nine, I dismissed the class. They hopped on their bicycles and went home.
I will do it all again tomorrow, and I will keep doing it until I find something that provokes a strong reaction. Difficult as it may be, it is a goal that keeps me going.
The school year is over. I went on vacation for a few weeks, and I have come back to do some work on summer projects. Some weeks are filled with things to do, and others are not. My Khmer lessons have continued as usual, and I have about ten students that come to a summer English class. I teach them for four hours during the week, twice with two-hour sessions. The students who come to the class are not from the rice fields beyond the jungles in Poum Bott and Srey Snam. The class almost always comprises of a female majority. They come from the markets near by. They are the ones who can afford private classes and can speak better than most of the other students. They are the ones who will grow up and become the merchant class of Angkor. Perhaps they will even move into the professional class. These students scare me the most because they are the ones who can do the most with whatever I teach them. How can my lessons be adequate with that?
The students enjoy speaking, so I designed the class to revolve around conversation. I teach alone, for I have not seen my co-teacher for about a month now. It is better this way. When I teach with him, he usually translates everything I say into Khmer. The students often do not pay any attention to anything I say and just wait for his translation. When I teach alone, the students have to think for themselves. It is hard for them at first, but they get used to it.
It is a good class, but I still struggle to come up with lesson plans that the students will both enjoy and will improve their English abilities. I still have the nagging fear that I have no idea what I am doing (I don’t, but I have gotten far better at pretending that I do). Even writing this now, I know I have to walk into that class tomorrow at 7 AM and have a lesson ready to go that will last a good two hours.
The morning today went like this: at 6:15 AM I woke up, washed, dressed, and got ready for school. I went outside, locked my door, and walked to the front of our yard. I bought two waffles from the grandmother there, who put them into a plastic bag for me (she recently bought the cast iron waffle maker, which she uses over a charcoal fire to cook the batter). I was running a little late, and I walked quickly to school knowing that the students would be waiting for me. When I arrived at the school building, the room we use was still locked. I chatted with the students there for a bit, although their friends obviously had more entertaining conversation. None of us wore our school uniforms. When the room was open, I put my bag down on the teacher’s desk and mechanically began to unpack its contents. While the students were trickling in, I wrote on the board, “Today is July 23rd, 2009.” I told them that this marks the one-year anniversary of me coming to Cambodia. One girl threw me a look that seemed to say, “You want a medal for that, or something?”
I turned to each of them and engaged in a brief conversation. “Hi, how are you? Did you eat breakfast already? Did you hear the thunder last night?” and other questions like that are posed. I’m always poking and prodding them with words in order to get them to talk. Some students are better at this than others. Many are forced to giggle, make their heads fall into their chests, and turn to their friends for help before they can engage me with a thought or an answer.
I turned to the material I had prepared for the day. I gave each student a photocopied page of an article from the Phnom Penh Post. I am always trying to interest the students in current events, and this article was about the rate of mine accidents in Cambodia. I gave the students about fifteen minutes to read through the article and find all the words that they did not know. After this period was up, I wrote all the words on the board. I quickly explained what these words meant, and afterwards we looked at the article. I had a student read a paragraph at a time, and I quizzed them about the meaning. As a closing, we had a discussion about mines in Cambodia. They did not seem to know very much about them, but they did not seem very curious about them either. Again, I could not really gauge their interest. At nine, I dismissed the class. They hopped on their bicycles and went home.
I will do it all again tomorrow, and I will keep doing it until I find something that provokes a strong reaction. Difficult as it may be, it is a goal that keeps me going.
Friday, July 17, 2009
The Restaurant
I have stopped eating lunches with the host family. Over the course of the past year, I sometimes got the feeling that it was a nuisance for them to feed me during the day. I also wanted a little more control over what I ate. The most common lunch, as well as dinner, was a watery fish soup served over rice. I started to loathe this meal as soon as I took the first bite of it. Once the loathing started, it became a fixture of intense hatred. I calculated that I could eat fish soup approximately twenty seven times before I was forced to leave town for a few days. I think I have an essay somewhere, written on a particularly hungry night, where I claimed that this staple represented a desultory cuisine of rural Cambodia. This in turn reflected something deeply shocking within the confines of the culture’s psyche. The whole thing was utter nonsense, for Cambodian food is special in its own right. I just needed to eat something other than fish soup. In any case, I now pay the family a little less money each month for room and board. I was worried that they would object to being paid less, but I struck a deal between Peace Corps and the family that seems to make everyone happy.
I now eat lunch at a restaurant a few houses down from where I live. It is called Haing Bai Si Noohen (roughly translated “Five Star Restaurant”). On weekdays I try to get there before the 12:00 rush when the place starts to fill up with diners. Most of the people who eat there are among the professional class: bank workers, NGO workers, and government officials traveling between Varin, Angkor, and Siem Reap. They drive their sleek new Honda Dream motorcycles or big black SUV’s up to restaurant and park in the dirt beside the road. A wide thatched roof covers the wooden tables and a concrete slab out front and darkens the back corners of the restaurant. I almost always sit at the tables out front. The light there is better to read by, and I feel a little safer against mosquito attacks. When I sit down at a table, one of the waitresses comes over and tells me what the restaurant has to offer on that particular day. In addition to the usual fare that all Khmer restaurants have (fried rice, fried noodles, and boiled noodles among other things), the restaurant offers chicken soup, beef stew, pork and tofu stir-fry, fried fish with vegetables and peanut sauce, and fish soup. All of these dishes are quite delicious with exception to the latter; I have never ordered it. In addition to the waffles I buy from the restaurant in front of my house, my diet has improved dramatically from eating here.
Occasionally some of the Khmers present will want to know why there is suddenly a foreigner in their midst. More shocking is the fact that this foreigner speaks Khmer to the waitress and eats Khmer food. After a few preliminary questions, the demand to “practiss Inglesh” with me will arise (For a culture that favors indirectness over confrontation, I have always been a little put off by this question. Even if the conversation is a sincere expression of curiosity, the initial statement makes it seem artificial. To my best recollection, I have never begun a conversation in a foreign language like this. For example, the idea of me sidling up to a Frenchman somewhere in the countryside and demanding that he “pratique l’art de conversation française avec moi” sounds ridiculous [I’d probably suffer an insult or two]. How rude of me to assume that he has the time and patience to do that! Then again, it does not seem that Cambodians share this concept of time as a valuable commodity, so it may not be an issue for them at all).
However, I had an interesting experience with the other day when I sat down to lunch. A fairly large group arrived at the same time that I did and heard me speaking to the waitress. When we both settled in at our respective tables, one of the men asked me where I was from. His speech was fluent, but there was a hidden trace of an accent.
“America,” I answered, but I was too curious to say anything more. “Where are you from?” I asked.
“California,” a woman said. It is not the first time that I have met ex-pat Cambodians returning home, but it is not something that happens every day. Upon the need for more information, I gave them my prepared speech about what I was doing in Cambodia, where I learned Khmer, and how I felt about living in the countryside. They gave me their story in return, which was much more interesting than what I had to stay. Both the man and woman had lived in Angkor during the Pol Pot years, the only ones I have met so far. When speaking about it, the man took a spoon as a demonstration and scooped out barely enough rice to cover the spoon. He said that this was about as much as they had to eat on a daily basis during that time. He left Cambodia in 1981, and settled in Longbeach, California. They come back occasionally to visit family members that are still here. Despite how much I told them about the Peace Corps’ mission in Cambodia, they still could not believe why anyone would want to willingly give up a life in America for a life such as this one. They are not the only ones, for barely anyone I speak to understands why I am here. In any case, they bought me lunch and wished me good luck for the coming year.
Eating at Haing Bai Si Noohen has so far given me two things: better food and interesting conversations. Let us hope that this continues.
I now eat lunch at a restaurant a few houses down from where I live. It is called Haing Bai Si Noohen (roughly translated “Five Star Restaurant”). On weekdays I try to get there before the 12:00 rush when the place starts to fill up with diners. Most of the people who eat there are among the professional class: bank workers, NGO workers, and government officials traveling between Varin, Angkor, and Siem Reap. They drive their sleek new Honda Dream motorcycles or big black SUV’s up to restaurant and park in the dirt beside the road. A wide thatched roof covers the wooden tables and a concrete slab out front and darkens the back corners of the restaurant. I almost always sit at the tables out front. The light there is better to read by, and I feel a little safer against mosquito attacks. When I sit down at a table, one of the waitresses comes over and tells me what the restaurant has to offer on that particular day. In addition to the usual fare that all Khmer restaurants have (fried rice, fried noodles, and boiled noodles among other things), the restaurant offers chicken soup, beef stew, pork and tofu stir-fry, fried fish with vegetables and peanut sauce, and fish soup. All of these dishes are quite delicious with exception to the latter; I have never ordered it. In addition to the waffles I buy from the restaurant in front of my house, my diet has improved dramatically from eating here.
Occasionally some of the Khmers present will want to know why there is suddenly a foreigner in their midst. More shocking is the fact that this foreigner speaks Khmer to the waitress and eats Khmer food. After a few preliminary questions, the demand to “practiss Inglesh” with me will arise (For a culture that favors indirectness over confrontation, I have always been a little put off by this question. Even if the conversation is a sincere expression of curiosity, the initial statement makes it seem artificial. To my best recollection, I have never begun a conversation in a foreign language like this. For example, the idea of me sidling up to a Frenchman somewhere in the countryside and demanding that he “pratique l’art de conversation française avec moi” sounds ridiculous [I’d probably suffer an insult or two]. How rude of me to assume that he has the time and patience to do that! Then again, it does not seem that Cambodians share this concept of time as a valuable commodity, so it may not be an issue for them at all).
However, I had an interesting experience with the other day when I sat down to lunch. A fairly large group arrived at the same time that I did and heard me speaking to the waitress. When we both settled in at our respective tables, one of the men asked me where I was from. His speech was fluent, but there was a hidden trace of an accent.
“America,” I answered, but I was too curious to say anything more. “Where are you from?” I asked.
“California,” a woman said. It is not the first time that I have met ex-pat Cambodians returning home, but it is not something that happens every day. Upon the need for more information, I gave them my prepared speech about what I was doing in Cambodia, where I learned Khmer, and how I felt about living in the countryside. They gave me their story in return, which was much more interesting than what I had to stay. Both the man and woman had lived in Angkor during the Pol Pot years, the only ones I have met so far. When speaking about it, the man took a spoon as a demonstration and scooped out barely enough rice to cover the spoon. He said that this was about as much as they had to eat on a daily basis during that time. He left Cambodia in 1981, and settled in Longbeach, California. They come back occasionally to visit family members that are still here. Despite how much I told them about the Peace Corps’ mission in Cambodia, they still could not believe why anyone would want to willingly give up a life in America for a life such as this one. They are not the only ones, for barely anyone I speak to understands why I am here. In any case, they bought me lunch and wished me good luck for the coming year.
Eating at Haing Bai Si Noohen has so far given me two things: better food and interesting conversations. Let us hope that this continues.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Year In Review
Has it truly been one year? Almost. The anniversary of three hundred and sixty five days spent within the confines of mother Asia is fast approaching. Yet, I’m writing about it now in preparation, and trying to make this entry not seem like a job performance review. I can almost see bold, unfriendly letters above certain sections. “What have you learned? Can you list some of your accomplishments? What could you have improved on? What are your future projects?” Look at me. A year in government service and I’m already thinking of ways to put together a “compliment sandwich.” How boring…I’ll try to keep it more organic.
To me, the biggest accomplishment I’ve achieved so far is the fact that I’m still here. The physical dangers aside, with which I’m quite familiar, I sometimes wonder how on earth it is that I have not gone mad. However, there is very good reason for this that may surprise you. Nearly every morning spent in Angkor, I wake up and I go to work. Sometimes there is very little work to be done, or the work is very frustrating, but the fact remains that I have a regular schedule for doing something. Other volunteers are not afforded this luxury. Different sections of the country have independent provincial offices of education (POE), which means that schools run differently across the country. By comparison, the system in Siem Reap province functions much more regularly than the one in Banteay Meanchey. Chinese New Year fell on a Sunday this year, and the Banteay Meanchey schools were closed for a week in celebration. My school was in session during that entire time. (When I told my fellow teachers about my Peace Corps friends up north having a week, they laughed and said something rude about Chinese people) Why Siem Reap schools have more regular sessions than others is said to be the work of a dictatorial POE director. In any case, what has saved my mental health for this period has been this regular work schedule. Most days, I have a reason to get up in the morning. I would not trade that for anything.
During the course of a year, I went from barely knowing a word in Khmer to having rapid-fire confrontations with the workers at the post office. This being said, I do not wish to infer in any way that I am fluent in this language. The problems with developing one’s skills in this language are numerous. To begin with, everyone seems to have a unique way of speaking. Depending on how old you are, where you come from, or how much interaction you have with the outside world, your dialect will change. Every time that I want to give myself a language lesson in humility, I simply talk to an old person. The changes are usually in word order, accent, or vocabulary. A volunteer I knew in the south said that a family she knew had invented their own words for “chair,” “table,” and other household items. During a trip up to Sisophon, which is near the Thai border, a K1 volunteer and I sat down to order coffee at a café one morning. A lady came along to take our order, but neither of us could understand what she was saying.
Another dilemma is the fact that you develop certain vocabulary for different situations. There is specific set for the market, the host family, tuk tuk drivers, the classroom, all of which you learn and have to use frequently in daily life. The problem with this is that you never really break out of these sets. For example, I could never have a conversation about Kevin Rudd’s relationship with Barack Obama in Khmer. I joke when I say that my language skills are an “occupational hazard,” given that they are so specific.
There is still so much more to learn.
The biggest challenge I have, as well as the biggest fight, is the problem with apathy. It is one matter to deal with the frustrations of being a foreigner here, but having to deal with my colleagues’ frustrations is even bigger. The root of the problem has to do with the professional class of Angkor. As you have no doubt read from some of my earlier blog entries, the Khmer Rouge continually sacked the town during the 1980’s and 90’s until an armistice was declared in 1997. No one but farmers, teachers, and a few market sellers braved the terrible conditions to live here before the end of the fighting. The aftermath, however, brought the professional class back. Teachers, bank workers, hospital staff, and NGO workers came from all over the country to work in Angkor. Migrant workers who had sought agriculture work in Thailand returned and set up shops in the market. The bigger market was built in 2006, and a bank was built in 2008. (I consider it amusing that in the same year the town was given a bank and a Peace Corps volunteer) The problem with this is the fact that no one among this imported class likes being here.
Ask where a person is from among the professional and you will get many different answers: Pouk, Siem Reap, Sisophon, Phnom Penh, Kampong Chnang, Kampong Cham, Sviey Reing. Nearly all of them left their families to work here because this was where the jobs were. As a result, there exists a general apathy towards the town itself among this class. One of the language teachers I worked with during training briefly came to work at the Habitat for Humanity office during the last couple of months. When we spoke to each other over coffee or games of ping pong, he told me how unhappy he was to be here. He missed his family, he was bored with his work, and he left as often as he could. The same conversation can be had with my co-teacher. He misses his family, he does not like living in Angkor, and he regrets not having enough money to pay the bribe that would have gotten him a better assignment. One the ladies who works at the bank can often be seen leaving town on her motorcycle to go back to Siem Reap, over 60k away.
The feelings of apathy and homesickness pervade amongst all of these people. They are here for the work and the money that comes with it. They have no attachment to the town or the community, and they leave as often as they can. On most weekends and holidays, the professional class of Angkor is emptied out with the exception of myself, and this makes it hard to form partners for any kind of development work. I have to admit that on days like this, it is more than a little tempting to leave myself. The rationale of this being, “Well everyone else is doing it, why shouldn’t I?” (peer pressure is very persuasive, isn’t it?) In some cases, I do leave. Every two or three weeks, I go to Siem Reap in order to rest, take a shower, eat a hamburger, and spend long hours at WoW WeB. (it’s an internet café open 24 hours a day) While I need these excursions to recharge my batteries, I cannot help but feel that I contribute to the problem of everyone leaving. I need to leave site sometimes, but I feel guilty every time I do it.
It is partially this problem, as well as other ones, that strengthen my resolve to stay here and finish my service. I choose to live here, teach here, and volunteer here simply because no else will.
Everyone has side-projects. Certainly I have side-projects? Yes, but I’ll save those for another blog posting.
To me, the biggest accomplishment I’ve achieved so far is the fact that I’m still here. The physical dangers aside, with which I’m quite familiar, I sometimes wonder how on earth it is that I have not gone mad. However, there is very good reason for this that may surprise you. Nearly every morning spent in Angkor, I wake up and I go to work. Sometimes there is very little work to be done, or the work is very frustrating, but the fact remains that I have a regular schedule for doing something. Other volunteers are not afforded this luxury. Different sections of the country have independent provincial offices of education (POE), which means that schools run differently across the country. By comparison, the system in Siem Reap province functions much more regularly than the one in Banteay Meanchey. Chinese New Year fell on a Sunday this year, and the Banteay Meanchey schools were closed for a week in celebration. My school was in session during that entire time. (When I told my fellow teachers about my Peace Corps friends up north having a week, they laughed and said something rude about Chinese people) Why Siem Reap schools have more regular sessions than others is said to be the work of a dictatorial POE director. In any case, what has saved my mental health for this period has been this regular work schedule. Most days, I have a reason to get up in the morning. I would not trade that for anything.
During the course of a year, I went from barely knowing a word in Khmer to having rapid-fire confrontations with the workers at the post office. This being said, I do not wish to infer in any way that I am fluent in this language. The problems with developing one’s skills in this language are numerous. To begin with, everyone seems to have a unique way of speaking. Depending on how old you are, where you come from, or how much interaction you have with the outside world, your dialect will change. Every time that I want to give myself a language lesson in humility, I simply talk to an old person. The changes are usually in word order, accent, or vocabulary. A volunteer I knew in the south said that a family she knew had invented their own words for “chair,” “table,” and other household items. During a trip up to Sisophon, which is near the Thai border, a K1 volunteer and I sat down to order coffee at a café one morning. A lady came along to take our order, but neither of us could understand what she was saying.
Another dilemma is the fact that you develop certain vocabulary for different situations. There is specific set for the market, the host family, tuk tuk drivers, the classroom, all of which you learn and have to use frequently in daily life. The problem with this is that you never really break out of these sets. For example, I could never have a conversation about Kevin Rudd’s relationship with Barack Obama in Khmer. I joke when I say that my language skills are an “occupational hazard,” given that they are so specific.
There is still so much more to learn.
The biggest challenge I have, as well as the biggest fight, is the problem with apathy. It is one matter to deal with the frustrations of being a foreigner here, but having to deal with my colleagues’ frustrations is even bigger. The root of the problem has to do with the professional class of Angkor. As you have no doubt read from some of my earlier blog entries, the Khmer Rouge continually sacked the town during the 1980’s and 90’s until an armistice was declared in 1997. No one but farmers, teachers, and a few market sellers braved the terrible conditions to live here before the end of the fighting. The aftermath, however, brought the professional class back. Teachers, bank workers, hospital staff, and NGO workers came from all over the country to work in Angkor. Migrant workers who had sought agriculture work in Thailand returned and set up shops in the market. The bigger market was built in 2006, and a bank was built in 2008. (I consider it amusing that in the same year the town was given a bank and a Peace Corps volunteer) The problem with this is the fact that no one among this imported class likes being here.
Ask where a person is from among the professional and you will get many different answers: Pouk, Siem Reap, Sisophon, Phnom Penh, Kampong Chnang, Kampong Cham, Sviey Reing. Nearly all of them left their families to work here because this was where the jobs were. As a result, there exists a general apathy towards the town itself among this class. One of the language teachers I worked with during training briefly came to work at the Habitat for Humanity office during the last couple of months. When we spoke to each other over coffee or games of ping pong, he told me how unhappy he was to be here. He missed his family, he was bored with his work, and he left as often as he could. The same conversation can be had with my co-teacher. He misses his family, he does not like living in Angkor, and he regrets not having enough money to pay the bribe that would have gotten him a better assignment. One the ladies who works at the bank can often be seen leaving town on her motorcycle to go back to Siem Reap, over 60k away.
The feelings of apathy and homesickness pervade amongst all of these people. They are here for the work and the money that comes with it. They have no attachment to the town or the community, and they leave as often as they can. On most weekends and holidays, the professional class of Angkor is emptied out with the exception of myself, and this makes it hard to form partners for any kind of development work. I have to admit that on days like this, it is more than a little tempting to leave myself. The rationale of this being, “Well everyone else is doing it, why shouldn’t I?” (peer pressure is very persuasive, isn’t it?) In some cases, I do leave. Every two or three weeks, I go to Siem Reap in order to rest, take a shower, eat a hamburger, and spend long hours at WoW WeB. (it’s an internet café open 24 hours a day) While I need these excursions to recharge my batteries, I cannot help but feel that I contribute to the problem of everyone leaving. I need to leave site sometimes, but I feel guilty every time I do it.
It is partially this problem, as well as other ones, that strengthen my resolve to stay here and finish my service. I choose to live here, teach here, and volunteer here simply because no else will.
Everyone has side-projects. Certainly I have side-projects? Yes, but I’ll save those for another blog posting.
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