Household chores

The locals tell me they wash the floors of their homes every single day. Sometimes I look at my tiles and I don't see anything wrong with them. Then I get the mop and bucket out and I'm shocked at the state of the water; it's always dark brown to black. I suppose it's the dust in the air, which comes in constantly, as the vents in the walls are permanently open and the doors are open during the day.

I don't mind really as it's a bit of exercise. Today I was typing my Nigeria 1981 notes and I'd mentioned cleaning my house in Kano when I first arrived. I was told it had been cleaned but their 'clean' and my 'clean' were totally different. They'd mopped the floor but had splashed the dirty water up the walls. I got that sorted out and then I had to tackle the floor. The walls had been painted white but the lads had splattered the paint all over the floor. I lost count of the number of razor blades I went through. I don't suppose the lads had seen a fridge before so they didn't bother looking inside. It was in an awful state, dirty and with lots of leftover food. After cleaning it I noticed there was only one hinge on the door and so I reported it to the school principal. He sent a workman to fix it but his idea of fixing the door was to remove the other hinge, supposedly to buy another one the same, but he never ever came back and so, from 1981 to 1984, whenever I needed something from the fridge I had to lift off the door and prop it up against the wall.

My Phnom Penh shower has started to behave itself after over a year of use. Up until recently I'd have a shower and turn off the water so I could stand at the sink and have a shave. Invariably water would start coming out of the shower head and I'd end up having a second shower. Again, I don't complain. When I was in Nigeria I had to inspect the dormitories and toilets every Saturday with an Indian teacher. I felt sorry for her because she'd be dressed in a sari and dainty sandals which were hopeless for the inspection. Water constantly dripped and algae were everywhere. The green slime would clog up the drains and there'd be water everywhere. It took us 1 1/2 hours to inspect the 16 dormitories and 9 toilet/shower complexes.

One day I was called to the dorms because a lad, Murtalla, had slipped on the algae and bashed his head against the shower wall. There were no ambulances so we put him in the back of my VW Beetle and took him to the hospital. The poor lad died from a brain hemorrhage. Phyllis and I collected all his belongings and visited his family. We had a photo of Murtalla and we gave it, along with his belongings, to the father. He refused to accept them. He said, "I know no Murtalla". I guess he was too grief stricken to know what to do.

Spending time in Japan forced me to learn how to use their complicated toilet system. I know people with automated showers that give the same temperature of water every time they step into the shower. After seeing what I've seen, I'm happy with what I've got.

The young boys I know are provided with a lunch every day when one of the office staff takes a meal to school for them. This is instead of eating the school canteen food. Today I asked Samnang if he'd had the Ta Krung for lunch that I'd had yesterday. He said, "No! I ate canteen food. It's too stinky and I have my reputation to look after." I brought him recipe books from Canada but he never uses them. Today he decided to do a sweet and sour dish and he just hunted through my shelves looking for this and that to put into it. I thought I'd befuddle him and said, "We'll do a flambé on Monday." He knew what I was talking about and was already planning how to do it. At his age I think I knew how to boil an egg!

The lads are at their Chinese class so I've no idea if anyone is coming over this evening. I'll have to kick them out early tomorrow as I have to go to the airport to meet a young man from Nagaland who is coming here for three months to do some volunteering work. I have a Naga blanket so I should put it on his bed to surprise him and make him feel at home.

Journalism, language and a special Khmer dish.

This morning I listened to an excellent programme about journalism in India and the role of women in various parts of the world. I ended up on the side of women. It was organised by Lyse Ducette who is the chief foreign correspondent with the BBC. I'm going to name drop and say I know her - she stayed on the Bocock farm many years ago.

In India only one woman in 10 works in a newspaper office and they aren't allowed to cover tops that are too 'manly'. They are limited to the softer subjects such as recipes and beauty treatments. It's even worse in Iran where the media are totally controlled by men. They talked a lot about positive news. One story was about a man who couldn't find anyone to water his plants while he was away and so he devised a drip bottle system. People learned about it and within a day he had five hundred orders. Many years ago I heard a journalism debate in the USA and a lady asked why there was so little positive news. One journalist said, "You wouldn't read it. You don't want to know that all aeroplanes took off safely today; you want to read about the one that crashed." I prefer the Indian story.

I often feel as if I'm in the dark ages when it comes to language. When I left England in 1964, if I didn't hear someone speaking to me I'd say, "Pardon?" A couple of years later I went back and a brother was saying "Sorry?" I had no idea what he was talking about. During my time in Calgary I visited a couple and the wife would start every conversation with, "Well I mean like". I used to cringe waiting for it. When I lived in the cabin west of Cochrane two families had trailers on the property and they used them on weekends. One of them had been a member of Toastmasters International and he would give me heck if I said "You know" or I hummed and ah'ed. He said, "If you don't have something real to say, then keep your mouth shut." That bit of advice has stuck with me for 52 years.

I keep wondering where the word 'absolutely' has come from. It was said by one journalist this morning - not once but many times. I know what it means but I simply can't bring myself to use it the way it's used nowadays. When I listen to the CBC in Canada I hear people using the word a couple of times in the same breath. In my English class today I think I'm slowly getting through to Phearak and Srun that the 's' at the end of a word is super important in English. I know how they feel as I can't get my head around the sounds they make in Khmer.

I was called over to the other house for lunch today. The family was having a dish called Ta Krung. Vuth said, "If a family is away from Cambodia, this is the meal they miss the most." It's a very different kind of meal. There's a plate in the centre of the table piled high with lettuce, the stalks of lotus plants, young banana plants that has been grated into strings and the flower of the banana treated in the same way. There's an aquatic plant, that you can only get if you know someone with a pond, that's known as frogs' legs and the flower of the water hyacinth which is a lovely dark lilac colour. One takes a lettuce leaf and adds bits of all the other things and then there's a traditional steamed fish dish added to the mix. The whole thing is then popped into the waiting mouth. The steamed fish dish is a challenge as it's got a fermented dish added to it. All of this went with a plate of rice.

Grandmother had spent a long time making a "green" soya drink so I had to sample a glass. She makes it by blending a special grass into the drink. After that, I was given some Durian. I love it but it does talk to me for a long time after eating it and my fingers are stinky no matter how much I wash them.

The people coming with the dental group are discussing whether or not to have an elephant ride when they are here. One man is a photographer so he's wanting to know about sunrise. I've sent him my photograph of the sunrise and I've told him to keep it in case it's cloudy on the day he goes.

Diaries really are lovely things. At the moment I'm typing my notes from my time in Nigeria and it's fun reliving events and being reminded of so many things I'd forgotten about.

Freezing bedrooms, English class and visas

It's amazing how positive the day becomes after doing my morning routine.  It's just a matter of habit but it's hard work.  I've always bragged that I could rule the world if someone would put a desk over my bed; I love my bed.  When we were children in Yorkshire it was often hard for us to settle down for bed.  There were six boys in one bedroom, six girls in the other room, and our parents with younger offspring in the third bedroom.  We'd start making a noise, which bothered our parents as it kept the younger ones awake.  Dad had a habit of fooling around which just made matters worse.  One day he crept upstairs and got on his hands and knees before coming into the bedroom.  The next thing we knew was our bed was being lifted up into the air on his back.  Naturally, we burst out laughing so he gave us a whack to shut us up.

On another occasion I didn't want to go to school as it was exam time.  Mother was sick and tired of writing, "Peter has diarrhea", so she sent Dad to get me out of bed.  I wouldn't budge so he tipped the bed upside down and I landed on the floor.  I finally gave in and went to school.  

We dreaded bed in the winter time as it was so cold.  There was a fireplace but we daren't light the fire as the beds were too close to it.  In his motorbiking days Dad had used a very heavy black leather coat and so the lucky ones got to have it on top of the blankets.  Sometimes we'd wrap a shelf out of the oven in a towel and put that at the bottom of the bed.  I don't think we had hot water bottles.  Nowadays I love a cold bedroom - life's a bit topsy turvy at times.  

Phearak came over for his English lesson.  For some strange reason I keep forgetting he's coming over.  Today he forgot his keys so his phone call alerted me.  I wish I could find culturally appropriate lessons; most of them are based in the USA or England.  The grammar part is all right but the settings are often confusing for people who've never been to either place.  Today I had to deal with "ground floor", "first floor" etc; today's article was based in London but others are from the USA where the ground floor is the first floor.  It also talked about all sorts of sports Phearak had never heard of; it was all right when I had to demonstrate 'jumping' but I drew the line when he wanted to know the meaning of gymnastics.  I'm also having to deal with the different ways of telling time.  Normally, in Cambodia, they would say, "It's eight forty", but the worksheets talk about "twenty to nine".  It's hilarious when I give Phearak and Srun my watch and I ask them to figure out certain times.  Getting them to understand 'past' and 'to' is a challenge.  I'm not complaining though as their English is infinitely better than my Khmer.  

I have to take my passport so that Cina's office can apply for my one year visa to Cambodia.  I'm always embarrassed when I talk to people about visas; most of the time I don't need one but, if I do, it's always issued.   I listened to a programme from Tunis this morning and a young lady said her wish was for all Tunisians to get a visa when they want one to anywhere.  There's so much discrimination surrounding visas; in Canada's case I complained once that a friend from India had been rejected twice by Canadian representatives in Jamaica and also New York.  Each time she lost the $60 she had to pay.  I wrote and said it was disgusting.  I received a reply from the Canadian government saying that it was one way of bringing down the Government's deficit.  

I should stop as Samnang, my chef, will arrive in a few minutes; today I'm going to have something involving pork.  I really should put in writing my one and only nasty experience with visas but I'll do that tomorrow.  

Mostly a fishy story

I accidentally left my phone in the living room so I didn't hear the alarm and got up at 7am; I was angry with myself and I didn't even bother doing the extra exercises.  I was so full from yesterday's banquet I decided that breakfast should be liquid - milk, juice and tea.  I skipped lunch because I couldn't be bothered and ended up having some cheese on bread at 4pm, without butter as I've run out.  It was a boring day as I just couldn't be bothered doing anything.  I've decided not to feel guilty as I'm retired and living alone and so I am only responsible for myself - most of the time.  

While doing my walking I listened to a programme on the extinction of the abalone population off RSA if poaching continues at the present rate.  It was no surprise to hear that most of the illegal catch goes to Chinese middle men as it's a delicacy back home.  It reminded me of going out in a canoe with Clio when she and Alex were taking care of a home on a tiny island off the coast from Swartz Bay on Vancouver Island.  It was low tide so we were able to pry a few abalone from the rocks.  I saw their iridescent shell and realised it was used to make 'pearl' buttons in the old days.  

Back home Clio invited people for dinner and they arrived in their yacht.  Clio had dolled up and was in a long gown while Alex wore his Matheson tartan to prove that he was Scottish; he was actually born in Africa with Scottish parentage.  Clio cooked the abalone in butter, milk and some rum.  It was a hard job; Mrs Beaton's cook book said we had to remove the snail from the shell but we had to be careful that it didn't die in a state of tension - what a whacky suggestion.  To soften it, Clio bashed the living daylights out of it with a wooden mallet.  The creature was so rubbery the mallet bounced up of its own accord.

After finishing a part of the meal, Clio and I collected the dishes and took them to the kitchen which was up a short flight of stairs.  We'd never used the washing machine but today Clio decided to put the dishes into it.  She put some soap powder into it and started the machine.  Within minutes there were bubbles coming out of the machine, filling the kitchen and flowing down the steps.  The guests didn't see anything as they were sitting with their backs to the kitchen.  I grabbed the dustpan and started to shovel up the bubbles and putting them in the kitchen sink.  We stopped the machine but the bubbles kept on coming and I kept on shovelling.  Clio joined the party and said I'd be cleaning up in the kitchen.  I just wish someone had taken a photograph.

 At 5pm Samnang came and I gave him a bit of salmon to cook along with rice and tomatoes.  He finished off the tomatoes by making a stew with onion and red pepper but he doesn't stop there, he always wants to add more and more things.  This time it was some cheese and sugar, which I hate although it doesn't harm the flavour.  He chatted away and then I smelt burning - it was most likely the cheese sticking to the bottom of the pan.  I knew what he was doing by chatting and cooking - he was trying to avoid going to Chinese class.  I told him he had to go as his parents would be angry with me and they might even stop him from coming over which would be a disaster as I'd have to start cooking my meals.

I finally got him out of the apartment by going over to his home to collect the bottles of vegetable juices that I'd ordered from Menghieng.  Hieng is a young Cambodian entrepreneur who is juicing organic vegetables - mainly soya, sweet potato, pumpkin and corn.  They are delicious, with no additives.  I got twenty bottles so that'll keep me going for a while - at $7 for the whole lot, it's a real treat.  While I was with Vuth, Grandmother gave me a coconut and Vuth chopped off the top so I could drink the water.  

The wedding party

The big thing about today was the rain; it rained almost constantly the entire day.  I started exercising before 6.45am and I ended at 8.15am.  I included some stretching exercises I had found on YouTube and a set of exercises involving a chair.  I quite enjoyed doing them.  I have to start early because I feel the day is over if I begin too late.  It's a revolution for me to do exercises; walking, for me, is fun and not classified as exercise.  Facebook told me I was to live until I was 104 so I feel I should do exercise to make sure it happens.  

While exercising I listened to a programme on smell and how some people are super sensitive to certain odours.  One man was a tea taster and he says at home all he wants is a simple meal as his day has been spent with smells.  Another lady was said to have an extraordinary ability to smell so many different things.  While I was listening it made me think of my dislike of the cooking odour that drifts up to my bedroom and often wakes me up.  It's bbq'd pork and it's nauseating.  On the other hand, when I go down to the little street restaurant to order pork and rice, I quite enjoy the smell.  It seems to me our sense of smell also has a lot to do with the way we feel, our state of happiness and health etc - for example, there's no way I am able to smell anything if my nose is bunged up.

It reminded me of Dad after he'd been injured in the coal mine explosion.  He lost his sense of smell and so, if he was cooking bacon, he'd shove the package under our nose to see if it smelt all right.  That was in the days of no fridges.  

Talking about our senses.  When I worked in the Arctic there were very few things to invade our senses.  Buildings were simple, roads simple, the landscape simple.  One day I travelled to Edmonton during the Christmas holidays and I visited a mall in the downtown area.  There was a hotel in the building and the guests' windows overlooked the inside of the mall.  As I went up in the escalator I started to feel a bit sick and I think it was because of all the things that were bombarding my senses.  The music, seeing my reflection in the copper coated windows of the hotel rooms, the people etc.  When I got back north I mentioned this to a nurse and she said it was most likely sensory overload which often affects northern people heading to the big city.

In the afternoon, Vuth phoned and asked if I'd like to go to the wedding party for Tola's sister.  I didn't know the wedding couple but I thought I'd keep Vuth company.  "Put $20 in your pocket", he said.  That would be my gift to the couple and generally paid for the meal and drinks.  

I felt sorry for Tola as he should have been outside with the family, greeting people, but he had to be inside trying to organise things.  He put us at a table with a couple of people from Nice in France.  Fortunately, the wife spoke English so we had a great time chatting.  Normally, ushers take people to tables so that a table of 10 people can be created and then the food is served.  This time there were no ushers so people were scattered all over the place and no tables were being served.  We waited an hour and then I got Tola to invite people to join us from another table.  Within a minute or two the food came and it was good too.

The starters included cold meats, crispy noodles, spring rolls and a spicy tomato dish.  These were followed by a steaming, boiled duck in a gravy.  One of the men at our table stood up and pulled the meat away from the bone to make it easier for us.  Then came a steamed fish in a lovely gravy, a Tom Yam soup with shrimps, a delicious dish filled with all kinds of mushrooms, another noodle dish with seafood and vegetables and finally a fried rice dish.  We ended with a dessert made from coconuts.  Drinks flowed freely and each table had a bottle of Chivaz Regal whiskey on it.  Our table did a good job of almost finishing it.  As usual, empty bottles and plastic were chucked on the floor under the table.  The wedding gift this time was a Khmer scarf which was a much better idea than key chains and other plastic objects.  These gifts are given out by the bridesmaids and groomsmen as they welcome guests.  I feel sorry for them too as they have to stand outside the hall from around 4.30pm until about 8pm; that's because guests arrive at any time.  

I met a man who asked me how old I was.  Normally I tell people but this I said, "How old do you think I am."  He said I was 57 so he became a friend for life.  His other friend said I was 45 which I thought was pushing it a bit.  57 sounds all right but it's a heck of a long way from 104.  

Bread and other things

After my morning exercise, as it was Sunday,  I went with the boys to the riverside so that I could buy some bread at Kaiser and give Ponleu a chance to feed the pigeons.  It's always a challenge crossing any road in this city but Sunday's, early in the morning, is a dream.  

For me a crusty loaf of healthy looking bread is comfort food; I could live on bread especially when there's some butter and nice cheese lying around.  Most likely Cambodia got the idea of bread from the French when they colonised the country.  The French liked to call such places "Protectorates" but heaven only knows from what they were protecting the local people.  Videos of their time in South East Asia are not nice to watch but I suppose it's the same for all colonial powers.  There are lots of bakeries nowadays in the cities in Cambodia but they prefer to produce a soft white bread and various cakes.  Baguettes are hugely popular but they have to be eaten immediately.  Bread is even called "Pain" - pronounced the French way.   Kaiser prefers to make European style bread and calls itself a "Boulangerie" - maybe that helps them to offer a light meal for $9.  Anyway, I do enjoy their bread with crispy crusts.

For some reason there weren't so many pigeons in front of the royal palace.  Ponleu started to feed them but children kept running through the flock to send them into the air.  It really annoyed Ponleu and he said he'd shoot them if he had a gun; the people, not the birds.  A Khmer lady beckoned Oudom to go over to talk to her.  I knew it would be about me.  He said she told him it was always a good idea to have a Western friend as they were better than Cambodian friends.  It's sad that people feel that way as often a local friend is far more important than a foreign one.

Back home we had our showers and breakfast.  They both wanted toast and, as usual, it was peanut butter for Oudom and thinly sliced cheese for Ponleu.  I had to get some work done so I said they could stay until lunch and then I'd take them home for a while.  I find entertaining children a huge challenge.  These two like nothing better than to be left alone with a computer or mobile device but it bothers me.  They both enjoy books so I really need a children's library.  I'm told there's a children's library in the city so maybe I should seek it out and take them there.  

Oudom constantly searches on the internet for information and he comes up with the most obscure things.  This time he told me the capital of Brunei and the fact that fresh bread cuts easier if I turned the loaf upside down and pressed down on it when cutting.  He had also researched about North Korea.  

The two lads came back in the evening and we had to have a compulsory fantasy movie.  It's fascinating watching the boys' facial expressions as they watch something that leaves me cold.  This time it was about an elf lady falling in love with a human boy and their battle with an evil dragon which turned out to be a good person who'd been turned into something bad.  Heaven only knows by what as we were watching part two.

Learning the art of parenting

On Friday night there was a big argument when I went to bed with Ponleu and Oudom; who would be able to sleep next to me. It was finally decided that I'd be in the middle. After that was settled, another argument ensued about who would tell stories and how many stories would be told. I put my foot down as it was already after 10pm and Ponleu's stories especially can go on until dawn the next day. I honestly don't know where his imagination comes from; he's only 9 years old but he can tell stories, in English, that include everything including the kitchen sink. I'm hopeless at telling made up stories so I usually end up telling stories from my past.

Sleep is never easy with two other bodies in the same bed. When I was a child in England we had three in a bed but I cannot remember it being as complicated as here. Oudom doesn't like the quilt so he sleeps on top of it which means he's in control. Ponleu starts off with his head on the pillow but in the morning he's usually under the quilt at the bottom of the bed.

I managed to get my walking exercise done before they got up for breakfast. Back home they are a noodle and rice family but with me they always want toast. Oudom wants his with peanut butter and Ponleu with cheese - he's says it's salty so I have to cut it paper thin. After that, the hard part starts - what to do with them. If I'm not careful they both want the phone and iPad. I've downloaded books for Ponleu but after a while he moves into playing games. Oudom is constantly searching for information. Today I learned about the capital of Brunei, which I have to admit I didn't know. I also learned the best way to slice bread - turn the loaf upside down, press down on the loaf and start cutting.

In the afternoon I heard "Peter" drifting up from downstairs - it meant that 3 year old Cheata was coming for a visit along with Samnang, the oldest. Luckily I have no treasures to worry about so I just leave her alone to entertain herself which means playing with everything in sight and then checking out my drawers and cupboards. Meanwhile, Samnang is discussing what I'm going to have for dinner as he planned on cooking it. They did go home for a couple of hours but then the three boys returned for the evening.

I'm always impressed with Samnang's cooking skills. This time we decided we'd have grilled cheese sandwiches with a tomato sauce. As usual, I had to sit in the kitchen to watch and discuss as he doesn't like being alone. He's a typical 14 year old; fed up with his parents whom he thinks are crazy, fed up being with his brothers and sister, the world is crap etc. He wanted to know if he should be allowed to go to a mall on his own. I have to be careful as I don't want to offend his parents. It's like being an unpaid counsellor.

The meal was excellent and then Samnang returned home to have spaghetti. His grandmother would be cooking it so naturally it would be a mess. I was left to entertain the two lads until bedtime which meant finding a movie. I've resigned myself to the fact that I'll never see anything on the weekend that resembles an adult movie. Last night it was a fantasy cartoon movie which I sort of followed. It's interesting watching the boys, how their facial expressions change as they get involved with the story. It made me wonder what we used to do during the war years for entertainment. In our house it means solitaire or dominoes in the kitchen. We were only allowed in the "front" room on a Sunday; often no fire was lit as we needed coal for the kitchen fire. After school we were always told to go outside and play and we rarely went home until it got dark. Here in Cambodia, city children are enclosed in homes with no garden and no city green spaces; it's no wonder they turn to computers for entertainment. In a way, I feel sorry for them.

Returning to Phnom Penh

Over the years I get quite good at packing my bag to travel.  I go through the categories carefully and place everything on the bed - clothing, electronics, toiletries etc.  On the other hand, I always have to believe that only God is perfect as I invariably forget something.  This time I got back to Phnom Penh and realised my phone charger was in Battambang, stuck in a plug in the restaurant.

Before leaving with Cina and Vuth for Phnom Penh I did my walking exercise listening to the BBC. It was a fascinating talk about the invention of the instant noodle which took place in Japan in 1958. In the mind of the Japanese it was a more important addition to their society than the automobile industry, computers etc.  

They were created by a business man who had failed at a number of things.  After the Second World War the USA was providing Japan with a large amount of wheat flour which was something they didn't use in their diet.  This reminded me of my time in Africa in the 80s when locals kept complaining that nations were sending useless aid; one item was powdered milk which was ridiculous as most Africans didn't drink milk.

Anyway, this man came up with the idea of the instant noodle.  It must play a huge role in Japanese life as there are three museums dedicated to the simple noodle.  The BBC went to one museum and it was packed with noisy children having a great time.  The man also invented "Cup noodles" when he was 95.  Apparently, noodles weren't selling well in the USA but one day, on a plane, he was given a small cup container, complete with sealed lid, filled with nuts.  He had a light bulb moment and decided this would be a great idea for his instant noodles.  Nowadays, they are the most important currency in US prisons where they are traded for everything.  One motto he had was, "In life there's no such thing as too late."  I like that.  He even invented noodles to be eaten in space by astronauts.

The Cambodian family I travel with are a perfect example of the importance of noodles - they never travel anywhere without filling their suitcases with cup noodles.  In China they produce around fifty billion packets of the things and one factory churns out five hundred packets a minute.  They are purchased by travellers who have long journeys ahead of them on Chinese trains.  Nowadays, sales are dropping because fast trains have shortened the time taken to travel so people don't see the need for noodles.  It'll be a while before that happens here in Cambodia.  There is now a rebuilt railway line but I haven't seen a train on it yet.  

I was looking forward to some peace and quiet at home in Phnom Penh.  It had been quite noisy in Battambang what with the customers in the restaurant and the ceremonies going on that involved the Buddhist faith.  This morning I was woken up before 5am with the tinkling of traditional music from a pagoda.  It continued until around 7.45am.  Then someone started to speak and he was still speaking when we left over 1 1/2 hours later.

My quiet time at home was broken when Ponleu (9) asked if he could come over to sleep.  When he arrived, he had brought Oudom (12) with him - not the perfect combination for a quiet evening.  Oudom told me that he'd been hacking video games while I was away.  He'd hacked one game so that he knew where the enemy was hidden; his gun even fired automatically.  I told him the government would be after him if they found out what he was doing.  I don't think it bothered him.  

Practising absolute flexibility in Battambang

The best made plans of mice and men rarely work out. My idea of travelling from Battambang to Siem Reap was cancelled because there were no hotel rooms available because of the town's river festival, which involved dragon boat racing. On top of that, some of the people I wanted to see were travelling elsewhere. There are three main holidays in Cambodia - New Year, Pchum Ben, which is when they go home to remember their ancestors, and the river festivals. I'm learning these are the best times to stay home.

While I was staying with Thornin and Serey there was a leadership workshop going on with Grade 12 students, run by two young Buddhist monks. Buddhism has an interesting attitude towards being a monk or nun. You can become one permanently or you can be a monk for a period of time. Whether this is for one day or one month, the man has to go through the same ritual of having his hair shaved etc. Some men do it to give thanks for something that happened in their life, others do it if they feel the need to find a new direction. Many young children become monks because their families are destitute; the parents know, if they send their sons to a pagoda, the children will be fed, clothed, given a certain education and cared for. These children often return home for events such as rice planting, harvest or family ceremonies. Nowadays, many monks are educated and they are happy to share their knowledge with other younger people.

At the start of the workshop the monks hung up a poster of the various aspects of leadership. It used symbols and was in the Khmer language. After they left, I tried to figure out what the symbols meant - some I understood while others had me baffled. I hope I can post the photo I took so you can figure them out yourselves.

It reminded me of when I was at the airport a few days ago. A man went into the toilet and he came out very quickly when he realised he'd read the symbolism wrongly. I don't understand why there can't be a universal toilet symbol for men and women. When I first went to Canada I was taken to a German restaurant. The toilets were labelled Hansel and Gretel. I'd completely forgotten which was the man so I had to wait until I saw people entering and then I followed them. In Macedonia the authorities often used an umbrella and a high heeled shoe or fancy hat to represent the sexes for the toilets. When I travelled in Cambodia about ten years ago toilets were few and far between on the highways. Passengers would get off the bus and head off in different directions - no symbols were needed.

While staying at Serey's family home I've earned a deeper respect for anyone working in the restaurant business. In Cambodia the same people work in the restaurant seven days a week. Thornin and Serey offer over sixty different meals so it's challenging work. The first customers come for breakfast at 6.30 so they have to prepare the vegetables, soup broth etc long before the customers start arriving. Breakfast goes on until the late morning and, at that time, the staff are preparing for lunch. They do get a short break in the afternoon but that could involve cleaning the restaurant and shopping for more supplies. The restaurant doesn't close until after 9pm which means very little time for family.

It's not just tiring work, it's noisy too. Children run all over the place and use the play area with its swings and roundabouts. Staff shout orders to those in the kitchen to save walking there. It reminded me of the short-order restaurants in the USA that use a tradition of waiters shouting to the cooks to tell them what to prepare. I have a devil of a time because I never know what to ask for. I'm used to a menu with a description and pictures; here people generally create their own meal by saying what kind of meat or fish they want and what kind of noodles and how they want them prepared - in a soup, plainly cooked or fried etc. It's one job I've decided I could never do.

I think it was the full moon today. The family set up a table with candles, flowers and incense sticks, along with a gift of food and drink, to give thanks to the moon for the harvest etc. I suppose it's the Khmer equivalent of Thanksgiving or the Harvest Festival time in the UK. Little Lee An gave me three incense sticks. I asked what I was supposed to do and they said, "Look at the moon and say something." It was a nice way to end the day; a simple ceremony, and giving thanks for the food I'd been eating in the restaurant and the people who took care of me.

Battambang, my first home in Cambodia

I've been coming to Battambang every year since 2002.  In the beginning I rented a very basic wooden home for $25 a month and students came to live with me.  I got so used to the sight of rats they stopped bothering me.  I pushed the toilet door one day and it fell apart; the termites had destroyed it.  We slept in a windowless room that was reached by a rickety ladder.   We had a great time together as the young students were busy with projects, trying to help the poor children in the community.  Once a month Chamnan and friends cooked a meal for about a hundred young children.  We had English classes and taught computers using old donated ones. At one point Chamnan organised English classes for the children living in the slum around the abandoned railway station.  At that time there was only one "institute" teaching basic college courses so my friends decided to move to Phnom Penh where they could study at a university.  That's when I also decided to move there.  I bought a house, which would become my base until 2017 and would be home for students from the provinces.  Actually, I didn't buy it; I gave local friends money to buy it because foreigners aren't allowed to own the ground.

I enjoy coming to Battambang.  It's the second city in Cambodia but much smaller than Phnom Penh.  I doubt if there's any more than half a million people here.  It's quieter, life is slower, and it's far less stressful than being in the capital.  My home nowadays is with Thornin and Serey who have a restaurant and share their lives with Serey's parents and other family members and friends.  In earlier days Serey's father used to take in young boys he'd find roaming the streets.  His family would care for them and send them to school.  He would also teach them the traditional Cambodian ornate wood carving so they would have a trade when they left school.  Nowadays a Canadian friend and I give some money so that six older teenagers can study English.  They promise to come to this home every evening, Monday to Friday, to teach English to up to a hundred younger children.  This place is a going concern.

Thornin and Serey work from the early hours of the morning until after 9.30pm when the restaurant closes.  Today I said I'd take them for a pizza meal.  Their daughter and son joined us.  They are one year and 4 years old and super lively.  To make matters worse, the restaurant gave them balloons on long sticks and a number of times we nearly had our eyes poked out.  Lee An, the son, loves pizza but for him 'pizza' means the little sausages that are embedded in the pastry around the edge of the pizza.  He seeks out the sausage and ignores the pastry.  After that, he picks out things he likes on the pizza and leaves the rest for the adults.

Later in the evening, two car loads of friends arrived from Phnom Penh.  Because it's the national holiday for the boat races, many people use it as a chance to do some travelling.  The restaurant serves a traditional soup which means a large pot of broth and into it you put vegetables, egg, meat, noodles etc.  Afterwards we decided to go for a fruit shake.  These are hugely popular in Cambodia.  They are made with a mixture of fruit, carrot, avocado etc., along with shaved ice, sugar, condensed milk and a raw egg.  My innards shudder at the thought of all that sugar and egg so mine are very basic.  I ordered avocado but it wasn't available so I ended up with strawberry - a daft choice in a country where strawberries aren't grown.  Don't ask me where the 'strawberry' came from but it definitely was a far cry from what I know as a strawberry.  

I don't think I'd survive in the restaurant industry.  The hours would drive me to insanity and the noise would do my head in.  I enjoy the food though.  The children's play area is a great success with the children, and also with adults who need a break.

My drive from Phnom Penh to Battambang with Thornin.

This is a picture of my local ice delivery man.  We can have it in a large block, which is about the size of a railroad tie or he will saw it into sections.  Many people don’t have fridges but they have ice boxes instead.  The machine at the end of his trailer is an ice crusher and so, if you want it that way he’ll do it on the spot.  Everything is available and within easy reach.  It reminded me of a time I had with a friend in India.  He’d invited guests from overseas for dinner and he asked them what they’d like for dessert.  They said they’d like ice cream so he phoned a number and within minutes there was a knock on the door and a man arrived with ice cream.  The lady said she was disappointed she hadn’t had a salwar kameez made, the blouse and pants outfit that Indian women like to wear.  Our host picked up the phone and within minutes a tailor arrived to measure the lady and she would have the outfit the next day.

I got up at 6.30am as Thornin said he’d arrive at 9am and we’d have breakfast together.  At 9am he phoned to say he was having breakfast alone and I should do the same.  At 10am he said he was stuck in traffic and wouldn’t arrive for another 30 minutes.  Welcome to Cambodia.  It wasn’t his fault as the traffic was bad but it complicates life as I kept having to open and close the doors and turn the fan on.

We finally left for Battambang and it took ages to get out of the city because so many people were coming to the river side to watch the practising of the dragon boats.  The provincial races have all been held and the winners are now in Phnom Penh for the championships.  The boats range in size from small ones, holding around 20 people, to big ones that hold around 75 people.  They are all carved out of single trees and are very narrow.  I’m told if a paddler falls off then it’s his problem as the boat doesn’t stop to pick him up.  There are a lot of single day holidays in Cambodia but the boat race is a big 3 day holiday and is a huge attraction for the ordinary folk as it costs nothing to watch the races.  I’ve seen them before and I always get depressed with the amount of rubbish lying around.  It all gets picked up but I don’t like to see it in the first place.

In Phnom Penh there are three rivers - Mekong, Tonle Sap and Tonle Bassac - “Tonle” means ‘river’. During the rainy season there is a huge amount of water coming down the Mekong and so the water from the Tonle Sap lake cannot get into the Mekong to flow south to Vietnam.  Instead, the flow of the water reverses and the lake triples in size.  The boat races signify the time when the water decides to flow south again.

Thornin likes to listen to music on the trip so I loaned him my headphones and I switched off and nodded off.  It’s a six hour drive so there’s a lot of time to nod off.  I’d never drive over here as the roads are narrow and wind all over the place.  There are lots of slow moving trucks, motorbikes and farm equipment on the road so I’d be a nervous wreck at the end of the drive.

We stopped for lunch and had a fish soup and a dish with coriander, beef and pineapple - it was good too.

We arrived at Thornin’s home at 5pm and I settled into my room; I have the same room all the time so I suppose it’s ‘my;’ room.  It’s next to a big hall and tomorrow a monk will give a course on leadershiop to a number of youth.

I was sitting on my own, doing some typing, when a group of men asked me to join them.  One of them owns a bus and we use him each year to move the Canadian dentists from one location to another.  They had a large pot of soup with vegetables.  I asked what it was and was told it was beef.  They gave me a bowl but I have to say it was a different kind of cow to what I’m used to.  I don’t think I saw a single piece of meat as it was mostly intestines.  I sometimes think I’m a walking garbage can as I subject my innards to all kinds of food.  I chewed away, with no clue what I was eating, but it was enjoyable and the company was fun.  There’s something special about being with people you can’t talk to; you just depend on body language and a few smiles.

They’ve left and it’s close to bedtime.  I hope this is going to be OK.  After a while my iPad screen starts to flash on and off every time I type a letter.  It’s hard to read and impossible to check.  I’m told that blogger is a Google creation and I’m using an iPad.  They don’t get along together and so nothing is done to fix the hiccups I keep having.  So wish me luck as I publish this.

A relaxing day at home in Phnom Penh

I hope you can read the text.  I keep trying to convert to large size but my computer won’t obey my commands.  I thought you’d like to see the green oranges that are just across the road from where I live; it’s the first thing I see when I leave the back alley.  A few weeks ago I saw a resort called “Green Orange” and it made no sense to me until I realise what it signified.  These oranges have to be peeled with a knife and they are full of seeds and also delicious juice.


On Sunday evening I offered to take Vuth’s boys to watch him play football.  Only Ponleu wanted to go - the other two wanted to play games - video games.  We were supposed to be there in time to start but there was another game going on and it had only just started.  About 20 years ago I watched a boys’ game in the UK and I’ve never watched a game since.  This time I had to watch almost all of this game, plus Vuth’s game.  After his game ended the team had a farewell party as it was the last game of the season.  While that was going on, there was another football game in progress and so, on one evening, I managed to see one entire game and parts of two games.  If it’s 20 years since I last saw a game, I’m hoping I won’t have to repeat the process.

I always make notes of things that are of interest to me, to include them in the blog.  Recently, I’ve had so much to write about I’ve put off writing about other things.  As I said, they are important to me, as memories of my daily life, and so you have to put up with the next few minutes as I reminisce.

On Friday I had Phearak and Srun over for their English class. Instead of going down four flights of stairs I decided to have a basket and rope system.  It worked well.  I sent my keys down and the lads let themselves in.  We had our customary hour together and then they left, taking the keys with them. They stood in the alley and I let the basket down.  They waved to take it up, which I did, thinking the keys were in it.  Then they waved for me to take the basket down as they still had the keys.  Down it went and then they waved for it to go up again.  This kept going on, with the basket going up and down, without the keys.  I then found out that the basket was landing on the balcony below mine so they were waving for it to go up and over the balcony.  It reminded me of that radio vignette about a bucket going up and down and getting nowhere; I think it was Victor Borge or another of those famous American comedians, in the days when comedians made us laugh.

Here’s a joke from Ponleu (9).  Why isn’t it wise to play cards in the jungle?  Because there are a lot of cheetahs.

Do people ever make comments about how you look or dress?  Here in Cambodia it happens to me all the time from the young folk.  I’ve been told my arms are a bit wobby, like gelatine.  Samnang asked if I’d like some hair gel as mine looked a mess.  He plays a lot of football and prides himself on his physical anatomy.  “Feel my calf”, he said.  “Yours is soft and mine is solid.”  Ponleu said, “What are those things growing out of your eyes.  I realised he was talking about eyelashes.  “Yours make you look like a girl”, he said.  I kind of think that’s a compliment.

At the engagement I asked a friend if she had had an engagement party.  She laughed and said he was so poor he could only bring 2 bags of oranges and they we in a plastic bag and not on a plate.

Oudom (12) said there are only two things he likes about Cambodia - the people and the fact that he doesn’t have to go into the army.  I’d been frustrated because I’d bought plastic suction hooks to go on my tiled wall but they kept falling off.  He said, “Put them in boiled water and it revitalises them.” I did and it worked!  I’ve no idea why he searches out these things at his young age.

Meakara and Sokunthea's engagement ceremony

Meakara and Sokunthea announced their engagement on Friday. I was invited. The happy couple are being blessed by family members who tie red string around their wrists and put some money into their hands.  

One of the first things to be done is to show respect to the family’s ancestors by placing food and lighted candles on the small shrine up on the wall.  All the fruit on the floor is a gift to the ancestors and spirits that take care of the family.  When the guests start to go home the fruit is divided amongst them.

The rings are in the red boxes.  Meakara and Sokunthea announced their engagement on Friday and a family member then went to a jeweller’s shop to have the rings made and the stones set; they were ready by Sunday morning.

Feeding time.  Chicken and veg soup, pickles, beef, a dish I never did identify and delicious bbq’d fish.

The oldest patriarch in the family conducts all the ceremony.  This is where he is blessing the couple and sprinkling holy water on their joined hands.

Getting ready to have the red thread tied around their wrists.  This was a small family affair with around 40 people present.  The families know each other well and are old friends so it was very casual.  Some families invite over a thousand people and it’s held in enormous wedding halls.

Cambodian wedding are very casual.  People chatter away, even during the religious part of the ceremony.  Luckily I didn’t have to sit on the floor as I can’t sit the way the locals do.  They have to turn their feet, usually to the right, so that the soles of their feet are pointed away from people.  It’s hilarious watching them shuffle along, on their bums, when people suggest changes.

Pre-wedding photos are a must.  A friend fromTaiwan is marrying a Thai lady so this is one of a set of photographs they had taken.  It’ll be a very elegant wedding but I won’t be there.

We are now at the end of the ceremony and it’s eating time.  Because I’m elderly I am allowed to sit at the table.  The man sitting down is 82 and recently he had a leg amputated because of diabetes.  He had to be carried from the car into the house.

If you are young, you end up sitting on the floor to eat.  I can sit cross legged for this event but then I’m too far away from the food.  Luckily the younger folk take pity on me and spoon food onto my plate so all I have to do is eat.

Babysitting.

Ponleu wanted the usual cheese on bread for breakfast.  He wants it sliced super thinly because he says it's salty.  I love cheese so I'm quite happy to give him what he wants as it leaves more for me.  He sat on the balcony and declared it was absolutely stupendous.

I took him to the riverside to use up the bag of corn seeds he'd been saving for over a week.  He got a bit fed up with a little lad who kept running through the flocks of pigeons and chasing them away.  A lady, with a tiny child, asked him for some seeds for her child.  They were wasted as the lad was so small he couldn't throw them far.  Thousands of these greedy creatures are based along the riverside and in front of the royal palace.  I presume they are breeding like crazy too.

One of the things that fascinate me, as I walk down the streets here, is the sight of the electrical wires.  They are worse than a jigsaw puzzles.  I've watched electricians come to do something and they unerringly choose the right wire; how they do it I've no idea.  

It's the famous dragon boat races next week.  It takes place at the time from the flow of the water in the Tonle Sap River starts to flow south; during the rainy season it flows north into the Tonle Sap Lake.  The lake triples in size and the depth increases from around 3 metres to over 12.  The biggest boats hold around 75 paddlers so it's an amazing sight.  Look it up on YouTube.  

From there we walked to the French bakery and bought some fresh bread.  If the bread's fresh I can live on it as long as it's got a reasonable layer of butter on it.

The news today was that two senior members of the Khmer Rouge have been sentenced to life imprisonment.  They've already been in prison for life sentences on different issues so nobody's too excited.  They are 87 and 92 years old so life sentences are a bit irrelevant.  The tribunal has been going on since 2006, at a cost of $300 million so people are saying it's a waste of time.  So many lower ranking Khmer Rouge are living an ordinary life and the Prime Minister is saying there should be no more trials.  He's a former Khmer Rouge so it's no wonder he doesn't want any more trials.  One witness said he lives across the street from a former soldier whom he knows cracked children's heads open on tree trunks.  Only 3 people have ever been convicted during the 12 years of the tribunal so many people are saying the country needs to move on.  On the positive side, there are now thousands of pages of testimonial from witnesses about the five years of terror.

Ponleu was quite pleased with himself as he managed to pull out one of his teeth while he was eating lunch.  The other two were removed by the dentist who charged $15.  This is the place to come if you want cheaper dental work.

I listen to Jaron Lanier last night.  He's a pioneer of the internet.  He said that nobody should have anything to do with social media - he doesn't.  He gave lots of valid reasons why we should break away from Twitter, Instagram, Facebook etc and his arguments sounded very compelling.  It's really quite scary what these people know about us and how they do very little to stop negatively minded people from posting their messages.  

Last night I had two of the brothers staying with me.  It's the last time too!  Oudom is only 3 years older than Ponleu yet he constantly lays the law down to him.  They wanted to watch a movie based on the video game called Minecraft.  Throughout the 1 1/2 hours of the movie I had no clue what was happening.  Oudom offered to explain but I said he didn't have to bother.  He said, "I'm not going to tell you about the move, just the concept behind it."  The language of this 12 year old always blows my mind.  The two lads understood everything that was happening but I felt like a Neanderthal.  

It was a rough night; Oudom slept on top of the covers so I couldn't pull them over me; Ponleu decided to migrate to the foot of the bed.

As a reminder, there are a number of ways to read my writings.  If we are friends on Facebook you can find it.  If I forget to post it, you can get it at peterheyes.blogspot.com.  Another way is to go to this feed and register by entering your email address.  (https://feedburner.google.com/fb/a/mailverifyuri=PetersMemories

One day I’ll have a dream that makes sense.

Ponleu typing his two sentences

I've just picked up Ponleu (9) from his home across the street.  He'll be spending tonight here and tomorrow I'll take him to the dentist.  It amazes me how calm he is about the whole thing.  He was there a couple of weeks ago and had four baby teeth removed and tomorrow there may be another three.

He's full of wisdom.  "Peter, are you single?"  I told him I was.  "But you shouldn't be because you can't have children to carry on your name."  I told him I had a few brothers and sisters doing a good job for me with this so I didn't have to bother.  I've just chased him into the bathroom for a shower.  He opened the door and said, "Go and do something; this will take a long time, I have to poo!"  He's just told me I have ten more years and that's enough time to find a wife as he wants to meet my kids.   Little kids do help to bring a bit of sanity into this world.

Last night I had a few minutes to spare so I watched a short inspirational video.  It said I had to wake up slowly and calmly and to tell myself I was going to have a good day.  "Take control of your life!  Don't let life control you!"   The phone rang.  I staggered out of bed in the dark and found my phone.  It was 4.40am.  It was a call from England but the other party didn't pick up.  I went back to bed and then, for some strange reason my phone decided I should get up - it was 5.30am.  From then on, every few minutes an alarm went off on the phone.   I've no idea what was going on.

I presume you've heard that we are supposed to keep a note book by our bed so that we can wake up and write down meaningful dreams as they are telling us something about life.  In the early hours of the morning I found myself in a town I'd not visited before with an enormous hotel.  I asked a lady what the place was called and she told me to look at the name on the hotel - Hotel Quack.  In the stores people were grabbing up items with images of ducks on them.  It turned out to be a town where the main industry was the production of eider down.  For those non-Europeans, that's the soft feathers from the eider duck which were used to make winter clothing, bedding etc.   How is this dream supposed to tell me something?  It's absolutely idiotic.   So the idea of having a meaningful waking up was lost.  

Phearak and Srun came over for their English lesson and I was pleasantly surprised when I had them reading sentences; they did quite well.  I've finally got Phearak to say, "I don't understand", which is a huge victory as they don't want to offend me.  

When they went back to work I had to do some grocery shopping.  I don't like walking on the streets so I go down the back alleys.  Behind the shopping facade there is another world of linking alleys where people live.   They are very narrow and little light gets to them.  People spend most of their life in the alley as they can buy all the food they need, whether cooked or uncooked.  Traders walk or cycle through selling their wares.  One lady has a stall where she does manicures.  It's sad that the tourists stick to walking down the streets, looking in the shop windows, instead of seeing the real world at the back.

When I came home I found a lizard in my sink.  The sink is quite deep so the poor thing couldn't get out.  I spent about 15 minutes trying to catch it but it would have nothing to do with it.  I finally managed to scoop it up on a plate and it then jumped onto the floor and disappeared.  I like them around as they eat the ants.  Here in Cambodia we can't leave anything out on the counter as the ants arrive in droves.  Even a single crumb will attract them.  I go around plugging up small holes with toothpaste but they find another way out.

Ponleu says he wants to write two sentences:

Sometimes i thought that every needle hurt at the dentist.  But when i went to the dentist , the needle doesn't hurt, only like an ant bite and after that my mom buy me some candy.   

(So much for stopping tooth decay!)

I think I should end this while I'm still winning.  Last night, the final words Ponleu said to me were, "Peter, I've got lice!"  

As a reminder, there are a number of ways to read my writings.  If we are friends on Facebook you can find it.  If I forget to post it, you can get it at peterheyes.blogspot.com.  Another way is to go to this feed and register by entering your email address.  (https://feedburner.google.com/fb/a/mailverifyuri=PetersMemories

An eating out day

I didn't see a single cow in Bali

I had taken my breakfast onto the balcony when the phone rang. It was Thornin and he was standing across the road. He was going to eat outside so I put everything back into the fridge and joined him. My neighbours downstairs cook breakfast and lunch for local people. We sat at tables, set up on the pavement, and had bbq'd pork and rice. It comes with a small bowl of soup and a little dish of pickles, plus a glass of tea. In all local eating places in Cambodia tea is free. As a tea drinker it's a great treat. In Canada I order tea and I'm brought a tea pot and mug. I don't drink with my meal because my Grandfather said that was the way they fattened their pigs. At the end of the meal I pour the tea but it's just water; hidden behind the pot is the teabag. One of these days Canadian restaurants will know how to make tea. I have a friend who says, "If you don't warm the pot, if you don't put the tea bag in the pot, and if you don't take the pot to the kettle, then don't bring me the tea." It's lovely sitting outside watching the world go by. Across the street a family squeezes juice from oranges for sale; every day they have thousands of the green oranges that have delicious juice. I should take a photo some time.

Thornin was still here at lunch time so off we went to a friend's vegetarian restaurant. It always tickles me how the vegetarian places in Asia always want things to look like meat or fish. Why can't it just look like what it is - i.e. mostly soya products? I enjoy the vegetarian food here as it's loaded with mushrooms.

For dinner I decided to take three friends for an Indian meal at the Taj Mahal restaurant. We had pakoras, which were slices of eggplant dipped in batter and deep fried, potato samosas with lovely flaky pastry, a vegetable and a beef curry with huge pieces of butter naan and finally a dessert. The dessert was too sweet for my friends so I enjoyed eating most of it. Three of us have been to India so one of my friends wanted to try out his Hindi. The man didn't respond - it turned out it's owned by Pakistanis. When I'm in England, and I have an "Indian" meal, the restaurant is very often owned by Bangladeshi people. I suppose it's safer for them to say they provide Indian food.

Talking about beef; it reminded me of the fact that I never saw a single cow in Bali. With it being a Hindu island the cow is sacred. It's the same in India but there the cows roam freely all over the place. I've no idea where they were in Bali; they were never on the menu.

Insurance has become a big thing in Cambodia. One of the companies is Canadian and I really don't like the way they operate there - everything is set up in a pyramid system. They hire young people who live on any commission they earn. In turn they try to get a team together because they take some of the commission from those below - it's awful. Now, a stock market has set up. I can work for it by getting people to buy shares; if they do I get $15. Knowing Cambodia and the corruption here, I wouldn't go anywhere near this job.

On the BBC this morning there was "The Global Philosophers' Club". They brought together, via video, representatives from almost forty countries to talk about different topics. The moderator was based in the USA and I have a feeling the topics were chosen because of President Trump's recent activities. One subject was the burning of a national flag. It was interesting that 70 per cent said it was wrong and 30 per cent thought it was right to burn the flag if you disagreed with what your country was doing. While they were discussing, it struck me that I've only seen people burn the flags of other countries and never their own. Another subject was hate speech and it was surprising that 30% said it was OK. They all had very rational reasons for saying it was right or wrong.

One man said that anyone should be allowed to speak on a university campus because students are meant to study outside their comfort zone. He said it was wonderful to argue back and forth, to disagree or agree and even to listen to hateful statements. He must be going to a very special university. I can only remember one class during my entire university career where I was expected to speak. That was a class about comparative education. We studied the education system in Canada, the UK and other places. I was the only one in the class over the age of 23 and it really irritated me to hear 20 year olds go on about the British education system. I don't think any of them had a clue what they were talking about. I decided I couldn't stand it so I shut up. When we had the exam I got my paper back and the professor had written on it, "I wish you had said something." That was a big lesson for me.

I've just given Samnang the doggy bag of leftover curries. He'll enjoy them but I bet he has a criticism or two.

Glorious rain today in Phnom Penh

I thought I'd use a photo I had taken in the restaurant when I took the three lads for dinner.  I now understand why parents love to have their children in school.  I was only with them for an hour and I had to put up with the two older ones arguing with each other.  Ponleu, the 9 year old, just sat, smiled and ate.  After the photo was taken, Samnang the oldest said, "And don't tag me if you put it on Facebook."  He's on safe grounds as I haven't a clue what he's talking about.

It's amazing what a one hour difference in time can make to my internal clock.  In Bali we were just one hour earlier than here but it's really having an impact on my daily life in Phnom Penh, even though I was only away for four days.  Before 9am I'm ready for bed and I'm awake before daylight comes.  This morning I woke up in pitch darkness and decided, if I wasn't asleep in five minutes, I'd get up.  I ended up getting up because there was a clap of thunder at 6am and the heaven's opened.  My apartment is a loft type place so there's no ceilings except in the bedroom which is in the centre of the apartment.  The noise of the rain, bashing on the roof, keeps me awake so there was no point in staying in bed.

Moving around the globe I've noticed the different smells that come from people's homes.  In Nigeria the foreign teachers couldn't stand the African "smell" and I suppose the locals felt the same way about the foreigners.  When I first came to Cambodia I used to wake up around 5am with a nauseous feeling in my stomach.  It was caused by the smell of food being cooked below my window by neighbours.  It was mainly bbq'd pork covered with home made sauces but there were also other smells such as rice, soups and vegetables.  I really didn't appreciate it.  Nowadays, I'm in a bedroom with air conditioning so I have to keep the door closed but, when I move into the kitchen, the smells waft through the door and window.  I don't mind now, it's all a part of living here.

As usual, I marched up and down the apartment listening to the BBC.  My Bluetooth lady is still speaking in Chinese so I presume it's going to be permanent.  This morning I listened to an interview with Jason Taylor who is an artist specialising in installations under the sea.  He has created human figures, made of metal, and they are sitting on the seabed.  You have to be a snorkelling person to see them.  He was describing the fish who come to the figures to nibble food from the algae growing on the figures.  It made me laugh because last year I took three of my sisters to Siem Reap and we dangled our feet in a large tank to have fish nibble at them.  My sisters thought it was totally weird but you get used to it and it's fascinating feeling the little nibbles the fish make.  I moved into another tank with larger fish and they chomped rather than nibbled; my sisters declined.  I had an embarrassing time when I did it in Indonesia.  I joined a group of young people, who were enjoying having fish around their feet.  As soon as I put my feet into the water, all the fish left my friends and had a feeding frenzy on my old skin - they were left without a single fish on their feet.

In one interview a guest said her parents "made do" during the war.  Looking around this apartment I would say that I'm still doing it.  Most people I know in the West have stoves and ovens; some have enormous stoves with different ovens and lots of places to put pans.  I have a single hot plate and no oven.  I do have a microwave and so, if I cook more than one dish, I can heat things up again.  Cambodians are lucky in that they don't care if their cooked food is hot or cold.  It certainly makes life more simple when you know you can't do anything complicated.

In the same interview the guests were asked to say what music they were raised on.  An American said it was the marching high school band he belonged to, a lady from New Zealand said it was Maori songs.  Another said it was Johnny Cash songs as his parents didn't understand each other's language when they met and it was the songs that brought them together.  For me I think it would be the brass bands in the North of England - every factory, coal mine had one.  I still love brass band music and the film "Brassed Off" is one of my all time favourite films.

8pm and I've just got back from the meeting.  They tried to have it in English but, when more than two Cambodians are together it invariably goes back to Khmer.  When it happens I just switch off and go into my own world; they'll let me know if I need to know what's happening.  At the moment they are planning an exchange programme with Thai youth and a local outreach weekend with around 40 Cambodian university students.  I'm always impressed with the way they operate and I always have a good time with them.

When I arrived home I passed the kitchen of the family downstairs.  The husband is from Cambodia and the wife from the Philippines.  The husband is cooking fried fish and, because the kitchen is open to the staircase, the really strong smell is drifting upstairs into my place.  I've opened the kitchen door and closed the bedroom door so I hope to get rid of the fishy smell before bedtime.

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