I have been having so much fun the last month in Cambodia that I have neglected my bloggrific duties. For those two readers whose feeds I have yet to be removed from, I have an udpate for you.

WHAT HAPPENED?

A whole lotta fun. Here’s the debrief in chronological order:

• Finished my Kiva Fellowship

After three wonderful months with Maxima, I completed my fellowship and prepared to say goodbye to the small company that has treated me like one of their own. While my Kiva experience was very different from what I expected, I am so glad that it allowed me to come here and work with such a remarkable company.

As part of my goodbye festivities, the Maxima senior management took me to a wonderful dinner at Magnolia, a new Vietnamese resturant with exquisite make-your-own springroll plates (with pork rolled on sugar cane, Japanese shizo leaf, pineapple and noodles), something like the Japanese shabu shabu (but with goat meat), and other delicious dishes.

Miss Svvie Chheng, who never ceases to delight or amaze me, made sure that I had the best possible going away dinner by ordering me my favorite food: set go (beef).  True, I do like a good steak or hamburger, but mostly my choice of beef was due to the lack of alternatives (fish) during Maxima lunches.  So, we ordered two plates of nearly-raw beef, beef in spring rolls, beef shabu shabu, beef with beef. It was a wonderful meal, with lots of fast talking and plates being passed around until every last bit was consumed with a smack of the lips. Fighting off the meat sweats (that insufferable sweating caused by eating too much meat),  Dr. Kimseng dropped me off at the end of the night back at my apartment, and I was sad to see him go.

The following day was my last at Maxima, and they presented me with a beautiful silk and embroidered scarf, from the whole office, and a matching silk purse, from Miss Svvie Chheng. We took a picture with the whole office outside, which I hope to frame and keep to remember Maxima by.

A few days before I had heard that all of Maxima (excluding senior management) had organized a trip to Kep and Kampot to go swimming, see the beach, visit a durian farm, and swim in tuk chu (waterfalls). All was to be completed in one day, there and back. While the van was already full, Kiry asked if I would mind riding “Khmer style,” – three to every two seats – and I said that it would be no problem, I’d love to go!

• A Very Khmer Vacation

At 445 am, my Maxima driver picked me up drove me to the Maxima office. Nobody else seemed to think it was an ungodly hour, except for me. It was fun to see everyone dressed up outside of their Maxima outfits. Rina showed off her new krama that her mother had given her; I had brought mine too and we thought we were so lowie (cool).

Kep and Kampot were great – especially the food, but I must say that just hanging out with my coworkers and vacationing Khmer style was the best part. Spending nearly 7 hours in the bus during the trip, there was a lot of time to talk, nap, eat fruit, and of course — sing karaoke on the van’s TV screen. The boys in the back kept the karaoke going the entire time, adding creativity to songs. The three back-to-back tracks of the Macarena became “Heeeey Maca RINA,” which became “Heeeey Maca SOPHAL” etc. During our drive back at night, the boys got out their Nokia bricks (the cell phone we all have), turned on the flashlight at the end of it (which is used quite a bit here) and jumped around in the back of the bus waving their lights around. They never tired. Meanwhile, Sophal and Rina told me about the stories behind each of the Khmer love songs. It’s surprising how trendy and fun a song is, and it has such sentimental lyrics. One song was about “many types of people,” where the singer discussed how some people like to dance, some people like to watch, some people like to smoke, some people like to drink, some people are shy…you get the point. I found out one of my favorite traditional Khmer songs was about a boy who loved his black water buffalo. What’s not to love about that?

It’s just too much to say in all one post, but the whole event was just SO KHMER, and I was treated like part of the familyi. Bags and bags and bags of fruit were passed around, snacks and unhealthy food, lots of G-rated flirting between the sexes, and giggles aplenty.

By the end of the trip, we all were exhausted by the 40 something durians that fit in our 35 person van (with 40 people in it). It was a really lovely day that I am so glad to have experienced.

• Traveled with Laura

Fresh from the King’s Birthday Holiday, my best friend Laura flew in from San Francisco where I met her with Dan (everyone’s favorite tuk tuk driver) and embarked on a two week trip of catching up and hanging out. This could take up nine blog posts altogether, but I have too much to write already.

Agenda:

1. Phnom Penh: 3 nights
2. Siam Reap/Angkor Wat: 2 nights
3. Bus back to PP: 1 night
4. Kep – Rabbit Island: 2 nights
5. Sihanoukville: 1 night
6. Phnom Penh: 1 night
7. Bangkok, Thailand: 2 nights (3 days)
8. Phnom Penh: 2 nights

Laura’s highlight: Discovering the definition of “wet blanket,” and using it as often as possible.

Laura’s lowlight: Taking a small boat across the ocean during a storm, arriving on Rabbit Island on the wrong side during a torrential downpour, trucking through mud and muck in the dark to cross the island and arrive at our bungalows.  (Laura was very brave through the whole process and, knock on wood, we never saw snakes!)

My highlight: Staying at the Golden Banana in Siem Reap, and floating in their beautiful, lush pool.

My lowlight: Laura leaving and me feeling homesick and missing her and my other SF friends. Three days of sulking ensued.

• Started New Jobs:

 Three days of sulking were accompanied by five days of complete boredom, as I waited to hear back from the jobs I had applied to. Why did I decide to seek additional employment? These are the facts that lead up to it:

1. I no longer have a job at Google
2. I no longer have an apartment in the United States
3. When I return home, I will move in with my parents
4. I am waitlisted at 8 law schools, and;
5. I’m not ready to go home quite yet

For those of you who heard me during my 72 hours of deciding I should travel to China, I regret to inform you that I changed my mind. Partly to continue to build up a good resume and impress my waitlisted schools, partly becuase I wasn’t ready to leave Cambodia yet, and partly out of fear of returning home and living with the parents for a period more than 1 month (so warned my sister), I decided to look for jobs in Cambodia.

Knowing that I was starting law school in fall, I started following leads in Cambodia and contacting people in my outer network. The great thing about Cambodia is how quickly you can make meaningful work connections. Perhaps because the business circle is so much smaller, people go out of their way to forward a resume, talk to a stranger or meet to discuss their work here. Coupled with the abundance of NGOs and small businesses, it wasn’t long before I found one job and one side project to work on for the next five weeks.

Oh, and I told everyone I’d work for free. So that probably made hiring me easy. Hooray severance pay. Kindof.

I am working at one of Cambodia’s premier law firms, headed by a UCLA Law alumni and California native with close ties to the Cambodian government and who helps the Prime Minister on matters of international business transaction and intergovernmental disputes (such as the Preah Vihar land dispute heating up on the Thai-Cambodian border).

My job is not as glamorous as our senior partner, obviously. I have been helping to perform due diligence, editing of Khmer-to-English law translations, and some more advanced secretarial duties. ROCK.

On Tuesday evenings I am the TA for Professor Rine, clinical faculty at the University of Michigan, assisting a course on Professional Responsibility (Ehics) at the Royal University of Phnom Penh.  It has been great to sit in on the classes and listen to the English-language law students debate legal ethics. 

Law school here is a bachelors program, not an advanced degree, and many of the students are ages 17 – 21. There are a lot of misunderstandings here about concepts of law – what a lawyer’s role is, when can a lawyer act on behalf of his own interest, what human rights are and if it is always in sync with the national government’s laws and ‘the public good.’ There are lots of ‘hot topics’ the students like to discuss, such as the need for economic development, corruption in the government, and interntional human rights. Howver, as common in both Khmer and English language law students, there is a big problem with students not being able to form their own thoughts or opinions.

There is a wide range of English written and oral profeciency, and unfortunately it is often tied to the income of the student’s families. Students who’s parents are wealthier or more highly educated have been learning English for longer and been given the opportunity to attend some of the best schools in Phnom Penh. I hope to provide some insight into the students’ minds in another entry I can write about their weekly assignments I’m reading.

•   Mother Visits, Mother-Daughter Traveling 

Years ago, my sister and I decided that we needed a dog. It was crucial to our existence. Our family was not complete without one. We asked our parents, of course, and were devastated when they said no. My sister and I began a dog campaign, including tactics such as: etreme whining, repetition, covering our parents’ room with Post-It messages (I want a dog! I’ll clean up his poop! I’ll take him for a walk! We want a dog! We need a dog!), even hanging them on the blades of the ceiling fan. Eventually, my parents said yes. We bought Rocky, a shelter dog, who changed our lives for the better with his love for digging holes in our backyard, humping small children, and yipping in car rides.

The moral of the story is: if you beg your parents for something enough they will eventually give in and say yes.

Such has been true with the Mother Campaign.

After four months of badgering, begging, whining, flattering and pleading, my wonderful mum has finally decided to come visit. 

Mother countdown: 10 days

• Returning to the US July 13

I’m going to fly back home with my Mom on July 13. A week in SLO, a week in SF, and then trying to make my move down to law school.

• Starting law school August 2009

Law school TBD. Currently in the ring: UMich vs UCLA. Ready? FIGHT.

 That concludes this massive blog post for the past 5-6 weeks. Hopefully I’ll be able to write about some more interesting tidbits before I go home.

Coming soon: Bruno the Office Dog, Spin the Bottle, and other fun stories

At first, I thought I must have tidied up more than I had remembered. After a careful  walk through, however, I saw that my woven entry mats had been washed and hung over a chair arm to dry, the kitchen mats had been cleaned as well, and when I inspected it — the mop on the front porch was damp. My garbage can was emptied and the giant cardboard box of recycling was cleared and returned to the kitchen.

At first, I thought that perhaps Pek had just emptied the garbage (as he sometimes does, bless his heart) but I could tell that the floors had been washed and the chairs straightened with extra care. It was all done subtly, respectfully, and left there without explanation. I kept thinking of the Grimm’s Fairytale of The Elves and the Shoemaker, and realized that the mystery cleaner would of course had to have been Pek.

Pek with the neighbor's baby, in his chair across the street (of course). Photo Credit: Kieran Ball (former tenant and Kiva Fellow)

Why did Pek clean up our apartment? What did we do to deserve this? This would have been an effort that took Pek a few hours, at least. Not to mention that the recycling box probably weighed as much as he did and that he’s permanently stooped over, making sweeping and mopping difficult. Yet, I knew it had to have been Pek. I was holding back tears when I realized just what Pek had done, only out of kindness, and for no clear ulterior motive.

In the last few months, Pek and I have exchanged many home signs, stories and smiles, and despite the obvious cultural, lingual, and age barrier, we have formed a friendship. I give him bags of soda and beer cans after a night on the porch with the Kiva Fellows. He thanks me and puts them in a big garbage bag in his yard downstairs, for when the man comes to collect recycling and he can sell it off for profit.

I gave him a few articles of clothing left behind by the previous tenants – just some pants and tops, and a free cotton T-shirt I was given from a competing microfinance bank.

When Carson was gifted with soda drinks during her research here, I gave them to Pek, knowing he would appreciate it. When we had dried Khmer food in the kitchen that Jeff and I didn’t eat, I brought them down to Pek, along with several containers and jars like I’d seen his family clean and use in the past.

Jeff will hand out some fruit or vegetables when he returns from the market – a mango, a mangosteen, some oranges or a carrot.

In return, or perhaps independent from these gestures, Pek continues to watch over Jeff and I with unfailing care. He waters our plants every day, coming upstairs around 730 am with an old paint can, filled to the brim with water. When he comes later in the morning, and I’m scrambling to get ready, he tells me my motordriver is here and points downstairs and laughs.

Sometimes I notice that my dustpan from sweeping the porch has been cleaned out when I return home, or that the dishes have been stacked neatly by the side of the sink after Pek has collected ice.

When I walk up to Jenn’s motorbike outside the house, Pek tells me to hold my purse close and tests the seat first to make sure its secure. He points to the pegs and tells me where to put my feet on the bike (even though I’ve done it dozens of times).

Each day, Pek wheels out Jeff’s bicycle and puts it by the front gate — inside, in the shade — for Jeff to ride to work. When Jeff returns in the evening, Pek brings the bike in at night before he goes to bed, locking it securely inside his house. On the weekends, when the bike is out in the yard for hours at a time, Pek covers it with his krama to protect it from the hot sun.

When Jeff leaves for the weekend, Pek will ask how many days he’s gone for the weekend, and he knows not to worry about the bike. When I went to Sihanoukville this past weekend, I told Pek how many days I’d be gone, waving goodbye as I walked out the gate with my backpack, and holding up 2 fingers for the two days I’d be gone.

When I come home from work, I like to run into Pek and exchange some signs before I head upstairs or to dinner. He’s always full of stories, though I’ll admit I can only understand about half of them. He’ll tell me about fires, about break ins, about weddings and about how much the neighbors paid for their new motorbike.

My House Elf. Photo Credit: Kieran Ball

This morning when I was getting ready to leave for work, Pek shuffled in and mimed that he had dusted and swept my house the day before. I kept giving him the Khmer sign of thank you, thank you. Pek proceeded to flick on and off the lights and tell me he’d change the two bulbs that are out. (How he’ll reach the high ceiling, I’m not sure – probably with help from a nephew.) He told me I was missing the padlock on the back door (which I had used to lock my bike), and waited for me to fetch it. Watching as I replaced the lock, Pek gave me a big smile and shuffled back to the kitchen to collect his ice. I went back to the front room and scooped some of my shortbread cookies (which I made for Maxima last night) and put them in a ziploc bag. I walked back to the kitchen and gave them to Pek, explaining that they were to eat. Then, nearly late for work, I walked out the front door and left it and my gate open, knowing Pek would lock up.

I’m really going to miss Pek when I leave.

May 12: Final Day at Maxima

May 15 – 30: Traveling around Laos/Cambodia with Laura

May 30 – Mid-August: ?

• Solo travel (To where?)
• Stay in Cambodia and work? (For whom?)
• Return home (and do what?)

Mid-August – 2012: Law school*

*To answer the other frequently asked question: No, I don’t know where I’m going to school yet. Likely UCLA or U Texas – Austin. Leaning toward Austin (hook ‘em!) but much is up in the air.

Here’s what I wrote:

Dear Lender,

Happy Year of the Ox! Thank you for supporting a Kiva entrepreneur in Cambodia.

It is the first day back in the Maxima office after Khmer New Year, and the office is abuzz with discussions of people describing their vacations. Our Kiva Coordinator, Sophal, a bright, 22-year-old Khmer girl and one of my closest friends in the office, asks me where I went.

“Battambong,” I reply, trying to pronounce the name correctly. After a few feeble attempts, Sophal at last can understand the city I mean.

“Did you dance, Julie?” She asks.

“Yes! We danced at the pagoda all three nights!” I exclaim.

“S’bai, at? Was it happy?”

“S’bai s’bai! Very happy!”

My name is Julie Picquet, and I am a Kiva Fellow working with Maxima Mikroheranhvatho, a Kiva Field Partner based in Phnom Penh, Cambodia. With two-thirds of my fellowship complete, I can hardly believe that I have less than one month left with this beautiful country and its inspiring citizens.

Kiva’s Partnership with Maxima

As a Kiva Fellow, I was placed with one of Kiva’s Field Partners to provide support and transparency into the money lending process. In the past nine weeks, I have visited Kiva entrepreneurs and worked closely with Maxima staff to write borrower updates, streamline our upload processes, and help with translation. As you may know, all entrepreneurs on Kiva’s web site are supported by local Field Partners, or microfinance institutions (MFIs) like Maxima, who are Kiva’s liaison between Kiva lenders and Kiva borrowers. They choose which of their clients are eligible to receive Kiva support, write and upload business profiles, disburse loans, collect payments, write journal updates, and respond to lender comments. Currently, Maxima is the only Field Partner to be completely owned and operated by Cambodians.

Despite the prominence of microfinance institutions in Cambodia (more than eighteen major banks and counting), Maxima stands apart from the rest as a boutique firm. As the smallest of Kiva’s four field partners in Cambodia, Maxima has the flexibility to tailor its loan products to best fit client demands. For example, some loan products include flexible interest rates, allowing clients to choose a lower interest rate if they can come to the Maxima office to make their payments, rather than have the loan officer drive to the clients’ residences. This cuts down on significant costs for the MFI, who can in turn pass the savings on to the client.

Riding on the back of a Maxima motorbike, interviewing borrowers and hearing about their business operations, I am impressed by the enthusiasm villages show when a loan officer and I drive past their houses. Sothea, a loan officer whose territory is the Koh Dach Island on the Mekong river, where she was raised and her parents still live, teaches me about customer service. “I always smile, the whole time I’m here,” she says, “My clients are everywhere, I want them to see me happy!”

Client Profile: The Um Family’s Mushrooms

Maxima’s clients seem happy, indeed. In the past nine years, Maxima has disbursed over $6 million dollars of loans and reached over 10,000 families. Maxima gives not only business loans, but also loans to build houses or to send children to school. In the homes I visit, I see the signs of development – children’s homework on the bamboo bed, taxi driving certificates pinned to the wall of a humble, wooden house. Piece by piece, Maxima’s loans help Cambodians improve their standard of living through sustainable business growth.

One example of this forward movement through small business entrepreneurship is exemplified through Sotheany Um and her family. When a credit offer and I approached the Um household, Sotheany’s father proudly told me that he could speak some French (which he learned when Cambodia was a French colony), so I said “Je m’appelle Julie.” He laughed and pulled up some chairs for Sothea and I to sit, while his daughter finished some work. During our interview, Sotheany’s young daughter ran around in pigtails and holding a balloon while we talked.

Sotheany is a hardworking businesswoman. This is her first microfinance loan, and she used all $700 of her loan to start up a mushroom business near the home she shares with her parents. She learned the mushroom growing trade from her brother-in-law, who had learned it from his uncle. She started the business about 6 months ago upon receiving the loan.

In this business, large, dark rooms are filled with vertical lines of segmented plastic bags, each filled with a mushroom fertilizer. The bags hang from floor-to-ceiling, and after a few weeks, wide, white mushrooms begin to sprout from the bottoms of each segment. The Ums built two buildings to grow mushrooms, each with over 5000 segmented bags. Sotheany’s father and brother-in-law enthusiastically showed us their mushroom huts and the mushrooms that are beginning to grow.

Sotheany sells her mushrooms on the island for 6000/kg for regular consumers, and 4000 or 5000/kg for wholesalers. One problem she faces is the lack of wholesalers to purchase her mushrooms. She may need to sell some of her mushrooms in Phnom Penh as well in order to increase her market. Sotheany is hopeful that she will be able to pay back her loan on time.

This video shows my interview with Sotheany, as well as her father and brother-in-law giving us a tour of the rooms where her mushrooms grow: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LoHT7jC5tUw

I was deeply impressed with the hard work that the Um household had put into starting this business. Mr. Um had even painted signs to mark the entrance of the mushroom hut, in both Khmer and French. To me, it showed the care that they have taken to run their business successfully and increase their income. On the Koh Dach Island, most people are weavers, and I imagine that it must take courage and confidence to introduce a new product to the island.

Before leaving to visit more weavers on the island, I thanked the Um family for their time and wished her success: “Some nang lo’ah!” – “Good luck!” To Sotheany’s father I said, “Au revoir!”

Maxima Welcomes the New Year

Last week Maxima brought in monks to bless the staff for Khmer New Year and invited me to join. Upstairs in our office, desks were pushed aside, mats were spread, and shoes were removed. We sat down and listened to the monks chant, as they splashed us with water and showered us with flower petals. The following day at 7:30 am, I was picked up by Maxima’s driver and brought to our Khmer New Year Party, where we met up with our second branch and the 60 or so employees cooked together, ate together and danced together as a family. “S’bai at, Julie?” They ask. “Yes,” I say, “I am very happy. Are you?”

Cambodia’s recent history paints a very different picture than the one I have come to see in my time here. Development is underway, and in the wake of a genocide, social problems and political corruption, in the faces of my coworkers and the people they serve I see happiness and determination.

On behalf of Kiva, Maxima and its hardworking clients, I thank you for your continued support of our hard work. Together, we can bring sustainable solutions to poverty and facilitate development worldwide.

We wish you a happy and healthy Year of the Ox, and we hope to continue to partner with you in the future.

Very Sincerely Yours,

Julie Picquet

Maxima Mikroheranhvatho

Phnom Penh, Cambodia

Little Sahot

]]> http://juliepicquet.wordpress.com/2009/04/28/in-an-aids-orphanage-in-cambodia/feed/ 0 juliepicquet sahot http://juliepicquet.wordpress.com/2009/04/28/when-it-rains-it-pours/ http://juliepicquet.wordpress.com/2009/04/28/when-it-rains-it-pours/#comments Tue, 28 Apr 2009 08:36:34 +0000 juliepicquet http://juliepicquet.wordpress.com/?p=241 ]]> Everyday last week started the same:

Temperatures climbing up from 77 to 81 degrees in just minutes, eventually settling around 95 degrees and remaining perched in the sweltering heat for the rest of the day.

An hour or so later the power would shut off. No Internet, no air conditioning, no lights. I’d work as much as possible on my remaining battery (sans internet) and then begin to putz around the office with the other management. Since only management has computers we came outside of our back room and sat in the front, fanning ourselves and talking about how hot it is. G’daou na! Cashiers and accountants use only carbon paper and calculators, and they preceded to work by the light that came in through the front doors.

After two hours without power, I would get restless. Trying to find the best angles to fan my face, or positioning myself in the waiting chairs to catch whatever draft managed to pass through the front doors. Walking back and forth from the kitchen to the front room in search of mango and conversation. Twiddling my thumbs. Wishing I had brought a book and not believing I had forgot one again. Listening as managers spoke in Khmer and watching the head accountant work diligently by lamplight.

In the afternoons, the 95 degrees of sweltering heat was overshadowed by loud thunder and rainstorms. The rain really did come down in buckets – the street would swell up, everyone would buy cheap plastic rain jackets for 1500 riel each (less than 40 cents), and continued their daily transport of bulky items on motos – ten kilos of lettuce, eight pigs, a pinwheel of wicker baskets, etc. In the evenings, my driver would take me home in the company car, not the motorcycle, so I wouldn’t have to deal with the downpour.

And so this continued for five days, Monday through Friday.

On the third hour of the second day without power I had an idea. What do you do when it is hot and you are bored? Eat ice cream, of course. While I had offered to walk the six blocks to the fancy gas station, it was discussed and defeated. It’s too hot, they said. Boni would go to the back room and get her moto keys, and we’d drive to the gas station. I’d pick out some ice cream and we’d drive back.

On Friday, I finally had enough money to treat Boni to some ice cream too. She picked out some New Zealand ice cream, and, not wanting her to feel badly for picking an expensive ice cream, I picked the same. A few minutes later and we were back in the office, eating chocolate ice cream in the back room and talking about how hot it is. Boni shared her ice cream with the other cleaning lady – (a quiet, poised woman of about 40 who always answers my compliments of “you look so nice today!” with “No, I’m old”). She held up her index finger to me and told me it was her first time ever trying ice cream. Chang’ng te? I asked. Chang’ng na! She answered – delicious!

A few hours later and the rain started again, and this time the rain gutters (if any) could not handle the downpour. Within just minutes, the street swelled with eight inches of water and cars passing by would send wakes of dirty trash water into our front gates.

Watching the roads swell in the safety of the front room, suddenly the Maxima staff began yelling in Khmer. Our head cashier dashed to our back wall and shut off our power lever. Smoke began to drift from somewhere in the office, but we couldn’t tell wear. There had been a small fire.

Two men rolled up their work pants, put on flip flops, and waded out across the flooded street to our electricty poll. They opened strange tin boxes and moved wires, the whole time while I thought they were surely going to electrocute themselves and die.

After ten or so minutes of intensity, the problem was somehow solved (I have no idea) and it was almost 5 pm. The Maxima staff came out to our front gate and we watched the motos and cars continue their dailyroutines in 10 inches of rain. Vendors continued to schlep their merchandise, and school kids trudged through puddles in their pants and shoes.

Maxima photo shoot:

On Saturday, April 11th, Maxima held a big Khmer New Year party for its employees. For the days and weeks leading up to it, every loan officer and cashier would ask me if I was going. There will be traditional food, traditional dancing, traditional games, they told me excitedly. As Saturday approached, the staff became more and more excited for the Khmer New Year party and the upcoming holiday (Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday were national holidays – no work – and many companies also give Monday and Friday off).

All four Kiva’ians were invited, but Jeff and Katie were traveling in Vietnam and thus Drew became my wingman after some gentle badgering, despite the fact that he woke up feeling under the weather and we were to be picked up at 730 am. (What better time for a party to start than 8 am?) As expected, his attendance would later cause the office women to ask me if he was my song saa (special friend).

It turns out Khmer New Year Parties, when sponsored by your employer, are not unlike corporate holiday parties in the US. Open bar, questionable food, and perhaps some inappropriate-for-work touching. (This took place in the form of knee touching during a traditional game, but still, quite exciting for the conservative Khmer culture!)

Traditional Khmer Games:

Drew and I were picked up by our driver and arrived about 30 minutes later. The traffic was akin to the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, and Maxima kept apologizing for the slow movement. Shortly after putting down are things and checking out the large house and grounds where the party was held (at the office branch manager’s parents’ house), we were invited to play some traditional games.

One of the most shocking things about Cambodia is the way that children are allowed around and near hazardous situations. An example of this would be the traditional Khmer new year game of pottery pinata. I mean, why not let children whack at pottery suspended in the air by a string?

My failed attempt:

A more successful employee:

Side note: A few days later, celebrating in Pailin, Jenn would find out just how hazardous this game could be when Colin (6’5” and quite strong) whacked the pot clear across the courtyard and landed a hunk on Jenn’s big toe. Avoidable bleeding and pain ensued. The following day Jenn was horrified when she had to buy blue foam boat-like shoes to hobble around in for the rest of our vacation. The toe is likely broken (still hurts at time of posting).

Lunch Preparations:

All the women of Maxima quickly gathered around a long table and started cutting at meat, mostly chicken, beef, and cow intestines. There were no recipes and little instruction – everyone just knew exactly what they could do to help (except for me and Drew). After staring absent mindedly at the kitchen scene for awhile, Drew and I were ushered back to a table to eat mango.

After a few hours of games and several mangos, a feast was served. Suistye Ch’nam Khmer! Suistye Ch’nam Khmer! We clinked our glasses to each other and began to eat. Delicious green mango salad, peppery lime loc lak beef (my favorite), some rubbery cow stomach I didn’t touch, etc.

While most of the women didn’t drink, the men drank enough for all. Young men chugged Angkor after Angkor immediately upon sitting down to our (1030 am) lunch. Older men mixed CocaCola and Angkor and followed suit. It was a race to the finish line. Once I found a few other Maxima women sipping a beer, I decided it was okay to indulge in one or two. The young men kept trying to catch me up with them but I stood my ground.

Dance Dance Penholution:

Finally it was time for what everybody was waiting for: a massive dance party. Everybody danced, even a few old men. Our CEO sang karaoke. We danced in circles around a tree centerpiece. Beer chugging (men only) continued. I tried my best to mimic the smooth hands of the women’s traditional dance, and failed miserably.

After a few hours of dancing, I was ready for a mid-day nap. The driver took Drew and I back in Maxima’s truck, and before long I was fast asleep.

The next day, I would depart to Battambong to meet up with Jenn and Colin on another 4 day adventure (Sunday – Thurday) for Khmer New Year.

The first night, with concierge Jenn in tow, we took Lauren and Alex to THE place to welcome travelers to Cambodia: Restaurant 54 aka I LOVE THIS PLACE – just a beer garden and some fry-your-own-meat. Beef and shrimp come lathered in egg yolk and butter, with a side of oil. Order the Tower or Power (our name, not theirs) – a giant tower of Angkor Tiger beer – for just pennies. Add a few scraps of vegetables, a big bowl of rice and some secret sauce. Grill it up! Every night at 54 is a success, and I probably go around 1 or 2 times every 9 days.

Highlight of their visit: Picnicking on Jenn’s roof: wine, beer, pizza, Khmer food and a 360 degree view of the city. Lightning storm (no rain) ensued.

Back on Street 830, my roommate Jeff captured the same lightning storm on his Flip Video. Check out the YouTube to watch the lightning bolt jut across the sky horizontally.

Arny rides with us in his brother's tuk tuk, transporting us and our picnic food to Jenn's roof. This is the same little street urchin who tried to put a tarantula on me my second day in Cambodia, and whom I still see time to time on Riverside.

Tried to make Alex blush and succeeded.

Me and Arni down at the school yard

I’d post some pictures of Lauren and I, but unfortunately she only sent me photos where I look like a basset hound. I’ll see if I can dig some more up.

Welcome home, Lauren!

A few weeks ago, Jeff and Drew came over with a backpack full of fruit and filled our kitchen table with durian, mangoes, bananas and fruit-on-twigs of every different variety. We pulled our tables and chairs onto the porch, turned on some music, and began an epic fruit taste test.

Fruit was judged by flavor, texture, appearance and acidity –  just to name a few.

It’s times like these that make me never want to leave Cambodia.

Oh, yes, and for all of you who keep asking — I have not bought my ticket home yet.

Mad for fruit? Check it out! www.cambodianfruit.blogspot.com

In the Kandal province, Sophal’s nephew (the littlest one) and neighbors play a game using only a rope made of rubber bands (which repairs as easily as it breaks) and some flip flops. Flip flops seem to be the popular toy of choice in the provinces – use them for toss, as cars driving up a mound of dirt, or in this case, to trip up people jumping over a rubberband rope.

Watch as the motorbike almost wipes out Sophal’s nephew.

PS: Sophal and I played too. Sophal was good but I was terrible. I think they slowed it down for the barang. Doesn’t it look like fun?

During one of my Kiva interviews a few weeks ago, this little girl swung in a hammock and watched me talk to her mother about her loan (which was used to build stairs for their house).