bulletin boards

I suspect Thai education majors spend an entire semester learning to produce magnificent bulletin boards. Their boards feature multicolored geometric borders, 3-D components, and elements that can be removed and used as classroom demonstration pieces.

In reality, these boards have little educational value. The kids rarely look at them. Their main purpose, as far as I can tell, is to gratify the Thai teachers' egos and fuel their unspoken rivalries as they try to outdo each other every month.

Much to our collective chagrin, last month we learned that we, the farang teachers, are responsible for decorating one bulletin board in each of our classrooms by the last day of the month.

My theme for July was "Around the World." The kids were learning fun facts about 13 countries picked randomly by Nummon. I thought making the countries' flags, printing our their names in their official language, and adding a well-known symbol of each country would be easy enough.

False. The flags were extraordinarily time-consuming because the school decided to get ride of the color printer. I made them by hand, painstakingly snipping out the tiny construction paper pieces. And did I mention there are three boards to prepare?

I learned my lesson, and decided the next board would have a few large, simple pieces instead. This month's unit focuses on possessive pronouns. I finished my three boards this afternoon. Pictures to follow...

And 10 points to the person who can name the 13 countries represented on the bulletin board pictured!

an excursion of average proportions

Mariela, Alyssa and I have decided to rate our excursions based on their success levels.

Today's trip received an 85%. Not bad. Way within passing range.

Mariela and I took a ride on the mighty Chao Phraya River today. I researched day trips within an easy distance of Bangkok. Getting to Ko Kret - an island to the northeast of Bangkok where the Mon people make their signature pottery - sounded simple enough.

We live across town from the river. Taking the bus is the most affordable option, so we walked to a bus stop and waited for number 16 for at least half an hour. We finally caught our bus on a street a little further down. We rode for about 20 minutes and got off on Sam Sen Road.

It was clear we weren't in a tourist area. We were the only western faces around. We wandered through some food vendors and noticed the prices on Sam Sen were lower than on our street, probably because a lot of farangs live where we do.


Some helpful folks pointed us toward the pier. We walked through more vendors selling big bags of bread crusts for 15B. Curious. When we got down to the pier, we could see why. There were swarms of huge fish in the water below. People would toss handfuls of crusts into the water and watch the fish go crazy.

We waited a long time for our boat. The ride probably lasted another 30 to 40 minutes, but it was pleasantly cool out on the water. If we lived nearer to the river, the express boats would definitely be my preferred method of transportation. At the last stop, we disembarked and waited for a bus to take us nearer to the island.

We were dropped off near an old, decrepit temple that looked nothing like a place to catch a boat. We stopped the first passerby and held out a piece of paper with "Ko Kret" written in Thai. She pointed us in the right direction. The ferry stop was through another temple's grounds. Pretty soon, we were on Ko Kret.

I don't know if my estimates add up, but all in all it took us four hours to get there.

We looked at a tiny wat (temple) a few yards away from where the boat dropped us off, and then meandered through the market. It was nice, and had some of the same handicrafts we'd seen at the Made in Thailand expo. There were lots of delicious-looking food options, but when we saw sticky rice with mango, we couldn't resist. Yum.

Later, we went back to the same food stand and bought a bag of yellow, coconut-topped cakes baked in little cups made from banana leaves. They were tasty, too.

We spent nearly three hours there before the sun and walking around wore us out. I had read that we could get a bus back to Bangkok, but that we might have to ride the BTS Skytrain after that.

We took the little ferry boat, walked through the temple and the old, defunct temple, and back out onto the road where we could catch a bus. Luckily, we saw "Victory Monument" listed as a stop on the side of bus 166. We live within walking distance from Victory Monument, so we wouldn't have to spend any extra money on the BTS. Joy! We hopped on and settled in for what we thought would be an hour-long ride. In 25 minutes, we were at our stop. Another 15 minutes of walking, and we were home.

We laughed when we thought about the four hours we spent getting there. Hence, we felt it necessary to dock 15% off our trip's score.

Tonight we ate mediocre Mexican food at Charley Brown's. It was like being home. We went to The Australian afterward to hear a band that covers popular songs. One of the singers was the most spastic dancer I've ever seen. And he was able to sound exactly like Chris Martin from Coldplay. I'm talking dead on. Ten points for him.

today's special

School lunches are always an adventure. You never know what lurks in the vat of brothy soup or the pan of mystery meat.

I can normally find a least one tasty dish each day. Today's lunch was only so-so, but what greeted me in the teachers' air-conditioned lunchroom robbed me of any appetite I had.

There, on a gold stand surrounded by flowers, was a pig's face.

And sitting right in front of the pig face was one of the Thai teachers, eating his lunch as though nothing was amiss.

I looked around, and there were, in fact, two pig faces in the room.

The P.4 through P.6 students had a Buddhist ceremony of some kind this morning. There were other gold trays with fruit, flowers, and sea creatures. I think they were all part of the offerings for the ceremony - NOT for eating, thank goodness.

Still, eating in a room with pig faces was unnerving.

"what we have here is a failure to communicate"

Today was very trying.

Actually, there's been a snowball of little, irritating things over the last two months. This week, the irritation snowball reached a yard in diameter.

The main annoyance today was the English Camp meeting.

English Camp is where the 120 5th graders come to school on Saturday for a themed day chock full of learning and fun! We chose a camp-out theme and we were told to create six different stations with activities and new vocabulary.

The kids will be split into 10 groups with a dozen kids in each group. They'll rotate through the six stations, with 24 students at a station at a time.

These stations should last from 8:30 to noon - they'll spend about half an hour at each station with a 30 minute break thrown in somewhere.

Pikay (the P2 teacher) told us there should be an afternoon show from 2:00 until 3:30 or 4. From what she described, it sounded like a talent competition or a variety show... or perhaps a circus (like everything else around here). The important thing was that the kids use English.

We put our heads together and determined that the simplest thing to do would be to keep the kids in their small groups. Five camp songs will be performed, as well as five skits written by us. We'll alternate - skit, song, skit, song - to keep it interesting.

I typed up the afternoon schedule, listing the camp songs and providing the lyrics. I also gave a brief description of the storyline for each of the five skits. I handed two copies to Pikay at our English Camp meeting this afternoon. She looked at them, turned around to confer with the other Thai teachers, then turned back to us with a frown on her face.

"The principal don't like songs or role play. She's afraid some student don't practice talking."

Huh. We were under the silly, deluded impression that having kids act out plays or sing songs in English was a surefire way to make them practice speaking.

"Okay," Alyssa asked, "Can you tell us what they've done in past years that has worked?"

It took several minutes, and several repetitions of this question, before we could get a direct answer:

"Oh, I think two years ago they do song and role play."

We all gave each other bemused looks again. We were clearly missing something. The meeting ended with Pikay telling us she'd ask the principal again, showing her our plan this time.

photos... again

If you've read my post from last month about the do-it-myself photoshopping incident, you already know the school has asked us for a lot of small passport photos.

On Monday at lunch, Geoffrey (silly British man who works in the Mattayom office) told us they needed three more small photos. Something to do with health care... I don't really know. He wasn't specific.

We turned those pictures in today.

Then, this afternoon, Sukjai tells us he needs more of the larger 2" by 2" sized photos for the work permit paperwork. "Will one or two be enough?" we asked. "Oh, no. We need at least six."

SIX more photos!

I have a third theory about where the photos are going. I think they're making "Go Fish" decks with our faces on them.

i'm leavin' on a jet plane

I'm in the process of doing research for our long October holiday. We have about three weeks off, and I want to make the most of my time.

As of right now, Alyssa, Mariela and I are planning to fly into Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam, work our way up to Hanoi, cross the border and spend several days in Laos, and then spend the remainder of our time in northern Thailand.

There's so much preparation to do. We have to find out the process for Vietnamese and Laotian visas, choose cities and towns to visit, find cheap (but clean) accommodation, figure out the best sights to see, find transportation, and make a budget for it all.

Five days of traveling into, throughout, and home from Cambodia cost us around $250. Not bad, considering we flew home and did a $50 four-wheeling tour.

I'm aiming to keep a three week vacation under $1000. Is it possible? We shall see.

If anyone has advice on Vietnam, Laos, or northern Thailand, do share. In the meantime, I'll be reading everything I can find.

harry potter

Harry Potter = awesome.

Harry Potter in Thai when you paid for an English ticket = not so awesome.

We had been psyching ourselves up all day for Harry Potter. One of the Thai teachers named Ekapol was going with a group of eight of us, and he had called to reserve tickets.

We got to the box office, paid, and hung out in the mall until the movie started. At 7:00, we went inside to find our seats. The ridiculous Thai commercials started. I love them.

We stood up for the slide show of photos from the king's life and the stirring instrumental theme that goes along with it. Thais love their king, and this slide show makes farangs love and respect him, too.

The Harry Potter music started, and the title screen came up. Funnily enough, it was spelled in Thai. We didn't think anything of it.

When the first spoken lines came up, our hearts sank. It was all dubbed in Thai, no English, no subtitles. We looked at each other, got up, and walked out. Ekapol, poor Ekapol, was all stressed out because he felt like it was his fault.

But some other Thai people had also walked out. We looked at our tickets. We definitely bought the ones for the English showing. We stood back and let Ekapol and the other Thai people talk to movie theater staff.

It turned out to be a simple mistake; they just put the wrong soundtrack on. We went back inside and watched about 10 minutes of Thai Harry Potter before the situation was rectified.

Whew.

tutoring

I started tutoring this week. I think I'm going to really enjoy it. The pay is great, and the kids are all very different.

On Mondays, I tutor the principal's nephew. He's a lazy kid and doesn't enjoy sitting at the table with me practicing writing comparative sentences for an hour. Imagine that! I'm working on finding short games to play between practice sentences. Last week, we played hangman. He enjoyed it, but it's a rather violent concept for a children's game.

On Tuesdays, I have two girls - Anya and Pim. They're both very smart. Pim is better at reading and writing English. She's shy when it comes to speaking. Anya is the talker. We practiced making up stories going around the circle and adding one sentence. It's hard for kids to be creative in a second language, especially when their educational system doesn't encourage creativity in the first place, but more on that later.

Thursdays are my favorite. I have three brothers - a kindergartner, a fourth grader, and a seventh grader.

The youngest, Jerry, loves trains. But I can't talk to him much about trains, because he needs to learn to read. I brought phonics cards to work with. When he got five cards right, he could add a car to the picture of a train he was drawing.

Joey is in my P4/1 class. He's a very precocious child, and speaks really good English with an American accent. He doesn't need much grammar practice, so I'm going to focus on new vocabulary and conversation.

On Thursday I asked him what his dream job is. I had to explain what "dream job" means. He thought for a minute and said, "Well, I know this isn't a real thing, but I would like to be a chef for animals."

He's in luck, because that is a real job. I told him about how I had heard of bakeries selling specialty dog snacks. Then we worked on vocabulary he might need for being a chef. I think I'll print out information on dog bakeries to give him next week.

I asked him what his second-best dream job would be. He described the hotel he'd like to own, complete with a restaurant, a pool, and a zoo. But his zoo would only have safe animals, like dogs, cats, rabbits, and turtles. It was very important that his patrons weren't attacked. He said the sea turtles' tank would be in the wall of the pool, so you could dive down and look at them.

Jame, the oldest, also has great English. He needed to practice using contractions and apostrophes, and listening to a paragraph and recalling details. I gave him sentences to write out and made corrections when he made mistakes. Then, instead of reading him a story, I decided to tell one.

I spun a fine yarn about two brothers named Dane and Shane. Dane was bored and decided to play a trick on Shane. He told Shane that the family kept him in a clear plastic bubble as a baby, so that he wouldn't fall down and get hurt, or drown when they went to the pool. Dane told him they only took him out to feed and bathe him.
"What happened to my bubble?" Shane asked.
"It popped, because you grew too big."
"Let's buy a bigger one! I want to live in a bubble again."
The story ended with Dane's mother coming over and punishing him for lying to his little brother.

I asked Jame a few questions on the details. He answered them all correctly. Then I confessed:

"That wasn't actually a made up story. Dane and Shane are my brothers, and I helped to trick Shane."

He was amused by this.

i'm gunna learn you somethin' if it kills me

I'm pretty sure "zookeeper" is listed somewhere in the fine print of my job description. My first class today acted horrible.

The kids have just gotten back from a week-long holiday, which, I think, contributed to their inability to shut up, pay attention, and act like civilized human beings.

An overcrowded classroom compounded the problem. On some speaking class days, we separate the class into two groups. Christy and I take the kids from the main classroom to two smaller rooms over the cafeteria. Today, we had almost all the kids in one of these small rooms, because no one at the school is able to sit down and figure out a proper schedule so the rooms don't get double booked.

I hate taking the kids to these rooms. The walk takes five minutes, plus another ten minutes to get them seated and settled down, there are octagonal tables instead of individual desks (which means they sit with their friends and talk the entire time), and there are no microphones.

Microphones are necessary in Thai classrooms. Why? Because the students will not listen unless your voice is booming from a speaker. They ignored me and Christy unless we pounded on the desk, switched off the lights, or shouted at the top of our lungs.

We tried to cover love, like, hate, and don't like today, in addition to a worksheet on countries. When I asked the kids what they hate, one boy said, "Bull shit."

"What did you just say?"
"Bull shit."

I resisted the urge to say something snarky, scolding him instead.

"Don't say that; it's not a nice word."

Ugh.

The one redeeming part of my day was one-on-one after-school tutoring. I think the kid actually learned something about gerunds, and I was able to keep him relatively entertained most of the time.

made in thailand

I just got home from the most enjoyable shopping trip I think I'll ever have in my entire life. I couldn't stop smiling.

On Thursday at school, one of the teachers told us about a market with handmade Thai goods from across the country at wholesale prices. She talked up this market all through lunch and said she'd take us there the next day.

On Friday, the Prathom (elementary school) teachers piled into a school van and headed to the market.

But market was really the wrong sort of word, because markets are hot,sweaty, tented places with crowds pushing you and vendors harassing you.

The Made in Thailand market was more like an expo. It was in a huge, lovely, air-conditioned building. There were wide aisles between each row of booths. You could stop in and look, and they wouldn't pester you to buy something if you weren't interested.

But I was interested. In all of it. I wanted to buy everything. It was all beautiful, unique, and handcrafted. I could have spent hundreds of dollars there easily.

We went back on our own today, because we didn't have enough time to see it all yesterday. We spent four and a half hours there. I could have stayed longer, but my shoulders were nearly dislocated from the weight of all my purchases.

The best part is, I was able to do almost all of my souvenir shopping in one trip. I have a few people left on my list, and about nine months to find gifts for them. No sweat.

The expo ends tomorrow, but it's coming back in December. I might have to make a second trip.

Now the question is: How in the world do I get all my nice (and bulky) gifts home?

from me to you

Thais like to give gifts. Erin, one of the American teachers, read somewhere that when you receive a gift from someone here, you're supposed to give them something of comparable value.

Thais also give gifts if you've helped them out in some way. I've experienced this twice with Nummon.

One day after lunch, she handed me a pastry from the campus bakery. It was shaped like a bear's head, with a little icing face. She said, "Thank you for helping me." I had no idea what I had done, but I accepted it.

Nummon was out sick all last week, so I taught on my own and spent my afternoons cutting out new pieces for the bulletin boards instead of grading. On Thursday, I was catching up on test grading. I had a question about one kid's answer, and I turned around to ask her about it.

Before I could say anything, she thrust a carton of grape juice into my hands and smiled. "Thank you for helping last week. It's got lots of vitamin C, so you won't get H1N1 flu."

What a weirdly thoughtful thank-you gift, I thought to myself. I liked it.

Scambodia: Act II, Phnom Penh

Act II, Prologue
Phnom Penh, Cambodia

Our second morning in Siem Reap was spent on a four-wheeler tour of the countryside. Afterward, we had showers at the Mango, ate a leisurely lunch, and caught the 1:30 bus to Phnom Penh.

The bus ride passed mostly without incident. I met a girl from California who told me about eating "happy pizza" (pizza with marijuana as a topping) in Siem Reap. She described herself as an "avid" weed smoker back home. Avid. What a funny choice of words. Also, Mariela ate a fried cricket. It tasted like very crunchy okra, if you wanted to know.

We got to the bus station around 8:00 and caught a tuk-tuk to our hostel, Nomads, which was run by a man named Roger from New Orleans. He seemed friendly enough. When the tuk-tuk driver bugged us about hiring him for the next day, Roger convinced him to leave a phone number where we could call him in the morning.

In the morning, we met Roger's Khmer girlfriend/babymamma/scammer extraordinaire.

Act II, Scam I
Nomads Hostel, Phnom Penh, Cambodia

There was a tuk-tuk driver sitting at one of the tables outside the hostel, chatting with the girlfriend. He offered to be our driver for the day for $20. There were six in our group, and we countered with $18 (to make it easier to divide the costs later). He agreed.

We told him we wanted to see the palace, the S-21 Tuol Sleng genocide museum, and the killing fields at Choeung Ek.

But first, we wanted breakfast. We told him where we wanted to eat, and he promptly took us someplace else instead. I assume he got free breakfast, or some kind of commission for taking us there. We shrugged it off.

After breakfast, we headed to the museum, and then out to the killing fields. We were finished with these visits by 11:45.

The palace grounds are closed from 11:00 to 2:00 for lunch, so we had extra time to kill before we could continue our tour. We asked him to take us to the Russian Market we'd heard so much about until the palace reopened.

He argued with us, saying he had only agreed to three places. We were under the impression that we had a driver for the entire day - especially since we were overpaying him by about six dollars. He wanted an extra dollar per person to add on another site.

We fought with him for 10 minutes, decided it wasn't worth it, and told him to take us over to the palace area. He protested that it wasn't open for another two hours, but we told him we'd find something to do there.

He dropped us off and we told him to meet us at 3:30. Still fuming, we walked down the street to find a place to have lunch.

We ended up at an unexpectedly delightful Khmer restaurant that was run by hospitable people. They gave us cold bottled water for free, and as many refills as we needed. Five of us split three dishes, and they gave us extra rice for free. The food was delicious, and after they cleared away our plates, they brought out small, stemmed glasses with sweet syrup in the bottom and this warm ball of sweet... something. We don't know what it was, exactly, but it tasted nice.

We went to the palace, met our driver, and headed back to the hostel, tired and sweaty. We had dinner that night and went back to our room.

Act II, Scam II
Phnom Penh, Cambodia

We asked Roger about transportation to the airport. Our flight was scheduled to leave at 4:30 on Wednesday, so we wanted to head that direction around 2:00. He told us taxis to the airport cost $7 a person, and that hiring a van might be less expensive.

Roger's girlfriend called a van service. It would cost $25. It seemed steep, but it was manageable split between six people.

On our second morning in Phnom Penh, we got up early to take a walking tour of modern Khmer architecture with a map printed from the internet.

When we got back from our walk, we started looking through one of the girls' guidebooks. A section on transportation to the airport said a taxi should cost $5 total.

Scammers!

Two taxi services were listed in the book. Alyssa and I went to the Russian Market and left the girls with the assignment of locating an internet cafe where they could make a phone call.

When we returned, they hadn't found a phone. The six of us went to lunch by the river and then back to the hostel to finish packing. It was too late to call a cab company.

We went to the bar to pay Roger for our rooms. He told us he had already added in the van cost. "You can pay me now, and I'll give them the money." We felt a little suspicious about it, but we didn't argue.

The van came with a driver and a guy whose job we never quite figured out. The trip took maybe 20 minutes; definitely not worth the $25 we paid. I'm sure the driver was Roger's babymamma's cousin or something. Old Rog probably got a cut of the fare.

We were just happy to be on our way back to Bangkok, where the vast majority of people aren't trying to swindle everyone.

i <3 siem reap

Our hotel in Siem Reap - The Golden Mango Inn - has been great. They are friendly, accommodating, and oh-so-helpful with arranging transportation for sightseeing.

Alyssa, Mariela, and I got an early start this morning with our tuk tuk driver, Sopon. The hotel owner had written out a list of temples for us to see in the best order to avoid crowds.

The weather was cool and perfect. It's never that cool in the morning in Bangkok. I loved it.

The first temple, I think, was my favorite. Ta Prohm, or the Jungle Temple, is nearly 1000 years old. It's beautiful and green and peaceful. Massive trees have taken over parts of it. Their roots snake down over the stones like anacondas on steroids.


We stopped for lunch across from Angkor Wat, one of the most well-known (and crowded) temple complexes. There, we were harassed by children selling souvenirs. They stood around our table the entire time we were eating, trying to cajole us into buying something.

I looked through one boy's postcards, but didn't see anything I liked. He seemed bitter about this, calling us "stingy tourists," and telling us never to come back to his country again. He kept pouting, "Why you look but you no buy?" He was probably eight years old. There were a couple of girls selling bracelets, too. They made me sad. Kids shouldn't have to go out and harass tourists every day to earn a living. Kids should be in school laughing with their friends.

After lunch, we went to my second favorite temple: Bayon, the temple of faces.

Tourists like to take photos posing where it looks like they're standing nose to nose with a big stone face. It's like Cambodia's version of the holding-up-the-Leaning-Tower-of-Pisa photo.

We saw a few more temples in the afternoon, but had to call it a day around 2:15. The Cambodian sun was almost unbearable; I've never sweat so much in my life.

We headed back to the Golden Mango, napped, and relaxed until dinner time. When we started getting hungry, we walked down to the front desk to ask about food options. They offered us free transport to a restaurant near the Old Market.

We spent 40 minutes shopping, ate some delicious Khmer curry and chicken amok, and headed back to the hotel. One of my first goals after getting back to the U.S. is learning to make Khmer curry and chicken amok.

Overall, a lovely day. Siem Reap gets two thumbs up.

Scambodia: A Drama in Two Acts

Act I, Prologue

Our border-bound train left Bangkok at 5:55am. We had third class tickets, so we arrived early to ensure that we got seats. It was a good thing, too. The train was packed by the time it pulled out of the station. Passengers got on and off at various stops, but I think a few people had to stand during the entire 6-hour ride to the border.

Added to the crowding was the lack of A/C. The train windows were open, letting in a nice breeze and lots of dust. We jolted along, drifting in and out of sleep.

We arrived at the final stop - Aranyaprathet - around 11:45. A whole slew of tuk-tuk drivers greeted us, ready to take us to the border crossing. One of the guys in our group negotiated a price and we hopped in.

Act I, Scam I
Aranyaprathet, Thailand

Our driver pulls off the road at a small building with a few picnic tables out front. A sign out front advertises their visa services. A man greets us and hands us some blank forms. We sit down next to a fellow traveler and start writing. A minute passes, and he mutters to me, "Don't trust these guys."

I give him a sideways glance. "Why not?"

"Just don't trust them." He finishes filling out his paperwork and leaves.

I take a look around. None of these guys are in uniforms. It's not a government building. My keen powers of reason tell me we aren't at the border crossing proper.

One of the fellows comes over to check our progress and to tell us he needs one small photo. He also tells us our visas would cost 1,200 baht (about $36).

Being the savvy travelers we are, we had done our research beforehand. We knew the visas should cost $20. We argue with the guy, telling him it should be $20 and that we don't have 1,200 baht.

He tries to tell us that the $20 visas took three days. We know he's lying, call him a cheat, and walk back to the tuk tuks. We tell the tuk tuk drivers to take us to the Poipet border crossing. They nod, and we get in.

They start their engines and drive literally to the building right next door - the Cambodian embassy. The visa scam guys walk over and say, "See, it's closed right now - you can't get in that way."

At this point, we're feeling exasperated. We argue with the tuk tuk drivers a little more until they decide to take us to the actual border crossing.

After a very long wait in a very long line, we get through Thai immigration. We wait outside even longer because two from our group didn't have re-entry permits to get back into Thailand. After about an hour of dealing with that, we were on our way toward Cambodia.

I spot a sign that says "Visas on Arrival" and we head in that direction, but we're soon stopped by a uniformed man directing us to a health inspection tent. Everyone here is paranoid about swine flu. We fill out a short questionnaire and have our temperatures taken.

I think the Cambodians don't understand the spread of infectious disease, because there was none of this sanitizing-the-thermometer-between-uses business. It was an ear thermometer, but still.

Finally, we're on our way to acquire our visas.

Act I, Scam II
Poipet Border Crossing, Cambodia

We walk up to the visa office and find three government workers standing around shooting the breeze. Passports in hand, we tell them we need tourist visas.

No problem, they say, we just need one photo, $20, and 200 baht. We look at each other. Alyssa points at the sign above the window, "But that just says $20."

"There's a 200 baht service fee."
"That's not what the sign says."
"It's a service fee."
"Okay, but I'll need a receipt for my fee."
"Alright, it's a 100 baht service fee."

Interesting. I didn't know "fees" were negotiable. We argue with them a little longer and decide to pay the "fee."

Fifteen minutes later, we have our visas. We head for yet another office, with another long line and another wait.

After 25 minutes, we're stamped into Cambodia. We walk down the road, looking for transport to Siem Reap. A man in uniform points us toward the free government buses that would take us to the bus station. We could find a ride there, he said.

We hop on and arrive shortly. After much consideration, we choose to take the bus to Siem Reap (as opposed to a taxi).

The bus ride is meant to take about six hours. After two and a half, we pull over and our friendly trip guide, Mr. Lee, informs us that we'll be taking a 40 minute break in the middle of nowhere. Mariela, Alyssa, and I stay on the bus while everyone else heads to a restaurant that is probably giving Mr. Lee some kind of commission for stopping there.

Forty minutes later, everyone piles onto the bus. Before we get on the road, Mr. Lee begins his monologue.

Act I, Scam III
Bus, somewhere between Poipet and Siem Reap, Cambodia

I want you all to be happy. I take care of you, but I have some news to tell you. There is no bus station in Siem Reap, but don't worry, because I take care of you. I know a very good hostel, very clean, very cheap. Maybe 2, 3, 4... 5, 6 dollars. Very good price, good food, cheap. I want you to be happy. But you have your freedom. You can go inside look at the hostel, and if you don't like, you are free. You can go to other place, but Winter Hostel is very good, very cheap.

By this point, everyone is giving Mr. Lee incredulous looks and cursing under their breath. Alyssa starts arguing with him.

"No, we bought tickets from the bus station in Poipet to the bus station in Siem Reap. We have hotel reservations, and they're picking us up from the bus station."

I know how you feel, but I want you to be happy. I only take care of you. The police will stop us if we try to go to a bus station. You have your freedom. You can choose where to go.

Mr. Lee talks nonsense for another five minutes, but we stop listening.

He starts up again with 30 minutes left to go. He talks and talks, repeating the same phrases. He takes several long pauses in between his rants. With each one, we're convinced that this time, he's really finished. We have no such luck; he always starts up again. We curse our fate for not having rotten vegetables to chuck at him.

We reach the Winter Hostel and exit the bus. The bus people and the hostel heap on the sketchiness as they try to carry two people's backpacks inside. One of the girls, Christy, yells at them, yanks her pack away, and heads toward the road with the rest of us. We crowd around a map, trying to get oriented in the dark, and take off walking.

After 10 minutes, one girl points across the way and says, "Hey, Golden Mango - isn't that where you guys are staying?"

There was a tiny illuminated sign on a pole; it was a miracle that she spotted it. We crossed the road, and walked down a dodgy, dark alley. The hotel came into view - a beacon of hope in our frustrating day. They were welcoming and courteous and showed us to our lovely, clean rooms.

Exeunt.

put that one in the 'w' column

Sukjai (SOOK-jye) asked me for my photo today. It was the moment we've all been waiting for.

I dug around in my desk for a bit, pulled my picture out of the drawer, handed it over and asked, in my most innocent voice, "Will this one work?"

And it passed! Victory!

If they ask for any more, I've got a whole sheet of mug shot tank top photos just waiting to have new shirts drawn on. I think I'll try a different style each time, just to see if anyone notices.