Back at the Pagoda School: Cambodian Child and Hope Association (CCHA)

I have missed my students and on Monday morning I wake up really eager to see them. I have revision notes and plans for more interactive exercises and conversations. I see my role here as one of a discrete teacher that can perhaps inspire and sustain hope. I also contribute to the training the students on the delivery of a new curriculum.  Most importantly I spend a lot of time with the young teachers under a tree going through their lesson plans, advising them on improving lesson planning according to their needs, answering their questions and discussing engagement of the students. I am very fond of these young teachers and I really savour the time I spend with them individually. I learn so much from them.  My contribution is just piece added to CCHA puzzle – the picture is already outlined. But I am hoping that in my company Phalla has had a chance to take a breath , a step back and make out this picture . Marvel at its sight in relief.

When Phalla meets me he clearly has a lot on his mind. Running a project that requires so much devotion and effort cannot be easy but Phalla perseveres. The SAFE Foundation has given him essential support and he is hoping that more volunteers will follow to help the project. He tells me how the CCHA relies on donations for basic supplies such as notebooks, pens and new books.

Like many projects of its kind, CCHA has no guaranteed and constant funding. As I have said there are many worthy causes and charities in Cambodia, but the village schools of CCHA are tucked away in the countryside and don’t benefit from the donations of passing tourists. My humble opinion is that is important not to turn the schools and sites to tourist sites for the sake of raising some additional funds. This could disturb this peaceful community and its grassroots project. Our impact here should be minimal.

So Phalla with the invaluable help of the SAFE Foundation and friends is trying his best. Kourash’s role in progressing this project has also been and remains pivotal, as person who lives in Siem Reap and has worked really closely with Phalla he has a proximity to the project that others cannot enjoy or offer at the moment. I think CCHA has done really well up to now.  I hope to inspire and encourage the young teachers, to help and empower Phalla. I hope that people with the right skills, experience and attitude can come  help in the future.

Here is a link if you want out more about the CCHA, I think it’s worth a read:

http://www.causes.com/causes/333190-cambodian-child-and-hope-association-ccaha-poor-children-orphans-school-cambodia/about?m=3ff0bfda

And as always here is a reminder of how to find out more about SAFE, their good work and how you can help:

http://thesafefoundation.co.uk/index.php/about/

http://thesafefoundation.co.uk/index.php/projects/siam-reap-cambodia/

Shadow puppets and celestial dancers

I was intrigued to find out about Khmer shadow puppetry. During my childhood the stories and comedy of shadow theatre offered me endless hours of entertainment in Greece. Karagiozis and the rest of his shadow theatre cast were no longer widely encountered in street theatre performances when I was growing up but there were still regular TV shows during the week, which I hardly missed. In Cambodian shadow puppet theatre I see the origins of the Greek Karagiozis. I don’t understand a word of Khmer but I am in stitches as the puppeteers do their slapstick comedy act hurting each other and making funny voices. I love this a bit too much.

I also get the opportunity to catch some Apsara dancing, the ballet of the celestial dancers. This is a form of traditional Khmer classical ballet. Beautiful female dancers offer a delicate dance in intricately ornamented costumes. The choreography is acted out not just by movement but also gentle facial expressions, eyelid batting and subtle neck tilts and shakes. The Khmer women and their movement are ethereal. Perhaps the most impressive of all their moves is the arch of their elastic fingers, with hands held in prayer and fingers almost freakishly bending backwards. Their hands remain pointed this way throughout their performance. I try holding this position for a minute and I get a cramp.

I have the best ending to the laziest day of the week. Above the restaurant of my hostel I discover a serene massage area. I have booked myself for a Thai massage. An hour of rubbing, realigning my spine and then I am off to sleep. Untangled and lighter…

Sunday riverside bliss

I am facing a week of intensive teaching, so I give myself the day off. I sleep in and have a lazy breakfast. The cycle along the river is a mistake as the temperature is much higher than I expected. It's muggy today. I return to the sheltered restaurant of my hostel by the Siem Reap river, where I type up blog entries, review last week’s teaching, roughly plan lessons and sip tea.

I am also the comfortable spectator of the Siem Reap rowing teams’ training in preparation for the Water Festival starting a day after my departure. I am told that I might catch some of the opening celebrations on my last Saturday here.  This rowing competition is the second biggest celebration in Cambodia after New Year in April.  Rowing teams from all over Cambodia compete against each other in the Siem Reap River. This is accompanied by festivities. The locals, monks and the monasteries are in preparation and there is already a festive atmosphere. The boats are decorated in colorful tribal patterns.

Later Stephane and I meet in town and sip numerous cooling fruit juices. Stephane also walked out of the pub street bar he suggested we meet on Saturday. Eventually, he discovered a small roof top bar run by a compatriot of his and ended up partying until 6 am.  He is in a state but still cheerful. We go to the bar for a ‘hair of the dog’ treatment for the monsieur.  The bar is ok with its best feature its mini skateboard park and the breeze it catches because of its location.





Roof top bar in Siem Reap town





Skater park



As we chat away, I am certain there can be no language barrier when people want to communicate. Stephane thinks that Phnom Penh is more authentic than Siem Reap, which has fast become a tourist destination. He tells me about his day at Angor Wat on Saturday and asking the driver to take him to ‘real’ Siem Reap. His heart was broken when he drove through the slums. As a traveler he does not think that he has seen the reality of this place.   I realise how fortunate I am, how differently I am acquainting myself with Cambodia. In a week I have seen more of the real Siem Reap and its countryside than many people traveling for months do. This is because of Phalla and my choice to venture out in the wider periphery of Siem Reap rather than just stick to its tourist centre. Knowing people here helps but hopping on a bicycle and being willing to wander in the streets also helps. 

After a couple of hours Stephané is collapsing dilapidated after the heavy night. He needs more food, a nap and a shower before the last night of partying in Siem Reap. I remain to be convinced. Not that I don’t enjoy a good night out but I have other plans for my evening.  

Tight hugs and goodbyes to Stephane. Au revoir! And 'good luck for you'.

But different ...

I missed Stephane:  it's 730 pm by the time I leave my hostel. I hop on my yellow bicycle and head to the centre anyway. This is warm evening and the cycle cools me down nicely.

A smiley cyclist slowly overtakes me. He turns to say hallo and I respond. The back of his different reads' but different...'. I am compelled to speak to him and say:  'Of you course you are different, you are Barrang'. He laughs out loud , slows down to cycle with me and asks: 'What is Barrang?'.

I know this accent, I know these features. I explain the meaning of Barrang and then ask him where he is from.

'Greece' he replies enhusiastically.

I respond :

'Den mou kaneis plaka etsi;, which means 'you are not joking are you ?' in Greek. The man almost falls from his bike, staring at me incredulously.

Yiannis is from Serres , near where I am from. He is here working on the location , seeting and production of a film. He has been here for two months loving it and he will be off in a couple of months. He tells me that in the past 24 hours he has met the only two Greeks he has seen in Cambodia.We are both Greek girls from who have or still lived in the UK.  Like me he was convinced that Cambodia is not a Greek people destination at all.

We exchange contact details and agree to meet for a coffee Monday morning.

What are the chances?

Tipparat and Richard

I head to Le Grande Cafe, a calm spot on this busy street, looking forward to some writing and wind down time. The place is ideal for this and has free wi fi connection. I sit next to happy couple enjoying their dinner. And so I end up doing no writing but have the pleasure of meeting Tipparat and Richard. Tipparat is from Thailand and Richard is... well Richard is... a citizen of the world. They live between Prague and a small town in Thailand. You see they both have their own business bases as well as each other. Richard runs a large software company with some important and eponymous clients around the world. This man has been to close 100 countries at different times for shorter and longer periods. We talk about a lot of places, but India and Lebanon stick to my mind as ones he is particularly fond of, particularly Lebanon. Richard's country list is impressive but at the same time I don't envy the rythyms of his life. I would rather visit a smaller number of countries in a different way. Life is short, I want to go to many places but it is impossible to be everywhere at the same time. I want to add experiences and not just names to my list. Richard is a very interesting man and we have a very pleasant conversation.

Tipparat is bubbly, full of life and energy. She is a young farmer from Thailand, strong and business minded. Soon I see hundreds of pictures of her beautiful farm, its produce, her angelic 5 year old daughter, Marisa, her mother, Buddhist celebrations at her village. She prefers Cambodia to Thailand. Like a British couple I spoke to earlier, she thinks that Cambodians are much friendlier. I however am taken by Tipparat’s Thai friendliness. What an individual! I have a blast with her and she gets me a bit drunk on the beer she buys me. We are online so we exchange contact details there and then. Richard is almost falling asleep as we two chat away. It’s been a long day for those two, so we soon part.

In my mailbox, I find a message from Stephane inviting me to meet him at a bar on Pub street. Pub Street is full of loud bars and is pedestrianised in the evenings. Take away the Khmer writing and faces and it could be in any tacky resort in the world. Reluctantly, I set out to meet him saying to myself that I should  not reject anything before I visit it once. I am 2 minutes away. Again I am late but I am thinking that friendly Stephane will probably have hooked up with other people and I will find him there drinking merrily. But the bar is unbearable and really loud, like a Saturday night on

St Mary Street

in Cardiff. I don’t even look for Stephane properly. I just turn and go back to Le Grande Café, check some emails and have a long night cycle ride along the river. The night is warm and starry. I think I have had my socializing for the day, my eyelids feel heavy, my derriere hurts from the bumpy motorcycle ride and I am ready for bed.

Phnom Kulan

Images from the Kulan Mountain:
http://picasaweb.google.com/liamoutselou/PhnomKulan#

On the motorbike ride to the Kulan Mountain, a mountain holy to the locals here, I let my mind roam and run free in the countryside and rice fields. My driver today is a young man called Lihou, age 26, ecstatically just married and loving his job. Tim seems tired today; I think he might have had a heavy night drinking, so I am grateful when he suggests that his friend takes me to Phnom Kulan instead. I am not one to take unnecessary risks.

The journey to Phnom Kulan takes a couple of hours and is beautiful crossing the Angor park to the west. Kulan is not really a mountain but I guess you could use the term as it is quite high by Cambodian standards. The road uphill is quite bad but I am impressed at Lihou’s good driving skills.

Today I am really happy, almost grateful to be on my own. I leave Lihou behind in search of the Giant Buddha and the waterfalls. This is my day with nature. I can’t wait to explore this wonderful forest in search of the waterfalls. The gateway to the Pagoda here is imposing and guarded by two fierce tiger sculptures. Once again I am serene and calm. Monks recite readings on a megaphone, pilgrims pray and locals take different paths into the forest. Phalla advised me to come here during the weekend and follow the local people.  This is the best way to explore the place.  I follow a group of five locals into the forest. I walk through a village, again people here are quite poor but really friendly.  As I reach the village exit I hear the waterfalls and soon I enter the riverside area. There are huts, resting stops for the visitors, a hanging bridge to cross to the first small water fall and a path to the larger waterfalls.

At first I am reluctant to take my clothes off here, but Phalla has encouraged me to have a swim here. And the young Russians who I sit with are already in beginnings and speedos (ha ha!). I scan the area for monks: there are none.  I am free again.

I walk carefully on the stones in the shallow water of the small water fall lake. To reach the water fall it is best to walk in a straight line and then turn right as there are some really deep parts of the ‘lake’ in the middle, which you would like miss to avoid any accidents.

Descent to the larger waterfalls spot is possible through wooden steep steps. Every other step there is one missing but the children here prance like goatlings, going up and down. The waterfall site is spectacular and I am drawn to the water, like a dry toad. I swim to the water fall and cleanse my soul sitting on a rock as its water falls on me powerfully. Today is a day of rest and serenity. I get rid of the debris, I feel strong and no longer afraid to expect and want what I know is right for me. My conversations with Phalla and other strangers here have common strands and themes and help me embark on answering some of the most important questions that have been lingering on my mind for a while.

I dry myself in the sun; the sound of the falling water is a soothing lullaby and I fall into a beautiful sleep as the sunrays caress me. When I wake up I see two butterflies resting on my toes. A dragonfly circles me. I feel like a muse. This is the setting of myths and fairytales. I love nature and nature loves me. We work well together.

I walk in the forest and have no sense of time. When I am back at the riverside huts, I get my self sweet potato fritters and a waffle from a village vendor. Here I meet Peter. Peter is an Australian volunteer teaching in the same area as me. He teaches English and maths. He has been here since September. There are quite a few volunteering projects here but I don’t recall the name of the project that he works with (my concentration wanes when I am so hungry). I like Peter, he is very friendly. Lihou (my driver) approaches me stressed then relieved. ‘I thought you were lost’ he says. Then he disappears again.

The next hour is like a silent comedy movie scene with a happy ending. Lihou and I chase and keep missing each other at different entrances and locations in the forest. I despair as I think that he has left. I have no battery on my phone and stupidly I have not written his number down on paper (what an amateur mistake right)? But the locals here are wonderful and they get me on a bike to search the forest. Lihou and I eventually find each other relieved. He is very apologetic. I think it’s best to stick to an agreed plan. We had agreed he would wait at a spot. But he moved only because he cared and wanted to make sure that I am ok. Note to self: clearly agree a time and place with the driver next time. And from a traveller’s perspective it’s best to charge a mobile phone- this is why I have it anyway- emergencies!

But all is ok and we leave for our next stop. The Western Barray is a large ancient reservoir built by the Khmer empire.  Wikipedia tells me that construction of the baray probably began in the 11th Century during the reign of King Syryavarman I and was finished later under King Udayadityavarman II. The impressive feat of building a dam at the time creates a vast  artificial lake, which is full with water during the winter season. There is an Easter Barray but the water level there is now low.  We arrive just before sunset. I descent using the side steps alongside the Dam. ‘Barrang, barrang!’ shout the children and women in a friendly manner. There is row of huts with a narrow wooden lakeside bridge. There are three hammocks per hut. Here you can bring your food and book, company and family and enjoy the calm and water. There is no other tourist in the huts but me, hence the locals’ excitement. Good tip Phalla , thank you. I read my book, the novelty of the Barrang wears out and everything resumes its order. I observe children playing happily, mothers bathing their babies in the lake, whole families enjoying time together, grannies crossing the wobbly bridge with the assistance of the grandchildren. This is one aspect of good quality of life that the Khmer have. They have the time and the culture to allow them to spend as much time with each other. Their health system is not developed, perhaps their education can be improved and there are some horror stories here. But despite their poverty and deprivation these people have each other in a way that for example my parents can’t have me. And this is beautiful.

I return to Lihou. Time to return him to his wife. I think he is so in love at the moment. It makes me smile.  

As we ride back to Siem Reap through the sunset I suddenly feel that the bond is complete. I have Cambodia and ‘she’ has me.

Jens who travels light

After meeting Yianni I still head to Street no 9 and the row of local cafe/restaurants. It is even busier on Saturday evening. The only table is under a bright light and therefore my soup is flavoured by the delicacy of local bugs taking suidical plounges in the hot liquid. Jens, the German tourist sitting across me, was wise enough to change tables but I am the last one to arrive and I have not choice. Jens is travelling for 11 weeks across Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam (lucky bastard!). In Germany he has his own business building display stands for conferences and events amongst other things. There are  many inventive people crossing my path here with multiple professions and activities, and Jens seems to be one of them.

He mentions the flashing lights on my bicycle and he laughs. 'People are very careful here' he remarks 'noone uses a light and I feel safer than I do cycling in Germany'. Is the German telling me to be less obsessed with safety?

He is heading to Battambang on Monday, to visit the beautiful countryside and the amazing bamboo railway. I have heard about this from other people. The railway tracks in the area have fallen in desrepair and bamboo trains have been built to use them for tourist but cargo and livestock transport as well. Apparently, there is no traffic control system and if two of the motorbikeengine powered bamboo trains meet one has to be dismantled to let the other one pass. This is not that difficult as they are very basic structures. Also the trains move at approximately 20 mph so they are not too hard to stop. The Government might be repairing the tracks to reinstate 'normal train' traffic. This will be the end of the bamboo railway. Battambang was on my list of destinations for this weekend. But as it is a 4 hour bus ride away, I have already decided that I don't want to spend Sunday on a bus. So if the Government resolves to repair the railway before I return to Cambodia I will miss the chance to experience this inventive form of transport.

Jens quickly becomes my role model for travelling light. He left  home with one t shirt and one pair of trousers. ' I have bought everything else along the way'. We chat and chat. He is still hungry and suggests we try the raw eggs, condensed milk banana pancakes across the street. But I don't think I can stomach that at this time of night. This is the first time I say no. So we part wishing 'good luck for each other' as the Cambodians do. Safe journeys Jens.