The week that had to happen... (Part 1)

Somewhere between grading papers and teaching five different verb tenses in 95-degree heat and sleeping every night on a hard bunk in dorms three shades removed from a Soviet insane asylum, I had to get away...

Cambodia is moving into a time of New Year celebration. "You fool! New Years was three months ago!" Yes, touche, but in Southeast Asia there are three New Years celebrations. "World New Years," as it's called here, is just as big as New Years numero dos, which would be the Chinese New Year (also the same in Vietnam). Chinese New Year occurs around the end of January. It's pretty cool - dancing dragons, beating drums, fireworks.

Then, oh but then, Khmer (Cambodian) New Year happens. We're talking a month of slacking, merriment, and general celebratory revelry. Technically, the Cambodian New Year is something like April 13 or 14 depending on the lunar calendar. What I love about this culture is they know how to make something last. The school vacation is technically only ten days, taking place between the first and second semester. Here's the magic: days before, students and teachers and administration just kinda stop coming to school. In fact, last week my boss came up to me and said, "Bryant, I want to inform you that this week we will finish English classes. The final exam will be on the 31st."

Uhhhhh....... Cool? No, wait.....yeah......that's very cool. Ok, see ya on the 31st. A whole extra week off work BEFORE the vacation starts. Amazing.

It didn't take me five seconds thought as to what I'd be doing with all this downtime: beach.

Being from the Gulf Coast, I have this thing about the water. When I'm not around it I really miss it, and something about blue/green saltwater and white sand makes me really happy. The combination of sun, wind, and salt spray are intoxicating. Combine that with the cheap accomodation and tropical setting of the Cambodian coast.......viva el mar. The only thing that can ruin it is sharing skin with a large jelly fish, or a category 5 hurricane, or perhaps a fat man in a speedo. In Alabama the latter is a rare encounter, but I've discovered the rest of the world's beaches aren't so fortunate. Once in Pensacola, a five-year-old boy was in three feet of water and had his arm bit off by a bull shark. His uncle, a firefighter, grabbed the shark, threw it on the beach, got the boy's arm out, and they were able to stitch it back on. That story has never ceased to amaze me (or allowed me to swim in the Gulf without looking behind me every 20 seconds). I digress....

Three days later, $5 bus ticket in hand, I headed for the coast. My boss and some other Khmer friends were surprised I was going by myself. Truthfully, like most people, I'd love to be there with good friends and family, but I every now and again need solo time. I was telling a friend recently, "It's like I need to allow myself time to think through all the things that pile up." Think of it as the defrag option in your Windows system tools, only for the brain.

The past year - leaving home, another dead-end relationship, the election of Che Guevara Obama, inter-team conflict and disappointment from the administration, Grandma passing away barely two weeks ago - I've got plenty to ponder and sort out, "process" as the shrinks tell us. Those things are balanced by positives like good friends back home, my awesome family, wonderful Cambodian friends, and great times teaching and getting to know my students, not to mention the relief work I get to witness in the countryside. It all stacks up and each needs to be picked up, analyzed a bit, and then put on the shelf in its proper place. If this makes no sense just roll your eyes and move on. I won't hold it against you.

And so......... The math is simple. Private bungalow + beautiful beach = amazingly better option than staying in the Soviet dorms all week. I'll leave you with a preview from part two: Paratroopers, kayaking, noodle soup, and a Scandanavian bartender...

A, An, The...

Even as I become more and more at home here, it is increasingly apparent to me that this is not home. Nothing will ever compare.

Wading through the heat, pushing through it like a man pushes through jungle leaves, I made my way across the campus of Royal University of Phnom Penh. The sudden change in season this past week or two has reminded me of home. The days now have the same quality as Mobile when the heat first arrives and you really, really know that Summer is not just around the corner but has made the turn and parked in the front drive for awhile. It makes me excited and leaves me longing for home a little bit more than usual. Waves of heat trigger memories of sand dunes and cut grass and watermelon and the smell of bleach when you first dive into a swimming pool.

I was meeting some students at this campus for a weekend study group. These three guys are what I would call a "core group" if ever there was one. In fact, in the future their three, soft-featured faces might pop into my mind everytime I have cause to say or hear "core group." Their names are Odom, Saokim, and Seiha. They're 3rd Year Civil Engineering students, and for reasons beyond my comprehension want to study extra with me all the time. We've done two weekend sessions already, and today's at RUPP was the third. The first time they came to my kitchen to study, and I made tacos. They weren't too impressed - no rice... It meant more for me, so I wasn't terribly offended. The next time we met in my kitchen again, but they politely refused lunch that time.

Today we were meeting at this campus just on the edge of the city proper. It was so peaceful. Students had finished studying and were just hanging out, talking, eating, and laying around on grass (this place has real grass). The campus is highlighted by three large, rectangular ponds and lots of shade tress and benches. These features combined with Soviet-area communist-constructed buildings gives the campus a unique feel. It struck me today as I pulled up on my moto that this was a place where I'd like to spend more time. There are several foreign teachers there, so I didn't receive the gawks and whispers that normally accompany the presence of a bald American in the middle of a "tourist-free zone."

My students gathered and had brought a friend from another class. For some reason I'd made four copies of today's lesson instead of just three - I didn't really know why I made four, but it turned out great because this new guy showed up. It was 4:00 by the time they had all assembled in front of our parked motos, and I let them choose a site to study. We plopped down under a shade tree on - again I have to say it - real grass. It was perfect. The sun was present but diluted by the trees and the breeze. The campus had that perfect college-ish feel to it and made me miss being a student. We sat in a circle and studied the definite and indefinite articles (a, an, the). These seem simple to Westerners, but for speakers of a language without the concept of these three little words they can be quite an obstacle.

We practiced and practiced and laughed and told jokes. I made fun of their pronunciation and then spoke some pretty awful Khmer so they could make fun of me. I learned a new phrase in Khmer. "It happened by accident" has a slang phrase in their language: "A ghost gave it to you." One of my student's could copy my pronunciation almost exactly so that if I closed my eyes he sounded just like an American sitting there. He laughed and said, "A ghost gave it to me." A few more questions and I'd learned my self-mandated "phrase of the day."

What makes me most excited about The Core is their collective attitude. Many students here are now leading complicated and shallow lives, influenced by Western values and materialism. Kids in the city are only interested in new clothes and gadgets and "looking cool." It's gotten noticeably worse since the first time I came here in 2002. It makes it harder to connect with many students. These guys, however, are very uncomplicated. They come from a very rural area but have the education to relate well to life outside of the village. They're dependable, reliable, curious, friendly, and often hilarious, and sitting down with them today under the setting sun and studying English made the perfect ending to my week. As I was leaving they asked me, "Teacher.... Where will you go tomorrow?" (This is Khmer-English for "What are you doing tomorrow?") "I'm going to church," I replied. They looked interested as I waved bye and drove off.

It's not home, but it's good being here.