Battambang

I'm sorry, but I have no photos to upload from the last 3 days. It was a long and bumpy road from Siem Reap to Battambang. The bridges were precarious at best--impassable at worst. The roads were terribly dusty and we often had to go long distances without the fan because it would suck the road dust right into the van.

We stopped to have a big lunch around 1pm and by 3:30 we were eating another large dinner at Sok Kim's house. Her generator broke and she is loathe to buy a new one, so they have no electricity at the moment. She served an early dinner--because she didn't want us to have to eat by candlelight. Sok Kim's rice distribution business is quite successful, and she has built her large, concrete-block house a few years ago. The Cambodian countryside has been deforested, making wood homes too expensive to build. The nice thing about concrete and tile, is that it is easy to rinse off all the dust in the dry season. Unfortunately, concrete structures absorb heat from the sun all day and become unbearably hot. Sitting around with the family that first day in Battambang was the hottest moment in my life. Sweat was pouring off me and running down all the cracks--to put it nicely. As my clothes became stickier and stickier, they turn red with dust.

Finally, we were brought to our hotel sometime around 7:30 or 8:00. None of us felt very comfortable there, but it was too late to change our plans. There was no place in the room to lock-up our valuables, and the employees gave off a dispirited vibe. Upon checking in, I was quick to shower and turn the AC all the way up. I watched movies on HBO, but the TV was backlit by a large flourescent light. I got up to turn the light on by the bed instead. When I flipped the switch, everything in the room turned off.

I went to the reception desk to ask them to flip the breaker. They asked if I had plugged anything in. I said no. They flipped the breaker. I went back upstairs and turned off the TV and the AC and tried that light switch once more. Again, everything in the room went off. Back downstairs to reception. Now there was a big hulaballoo.

"Did you plug something into the wall?"
"No, I flipped on a light switch. There is a bad switch in the room."
The hotel owner and the man from reception went up to look at my room. I had the small camcorder and digital camera on my refrigerator. They both pointed at it, accusing me of plugging them into the wall. "I did not plug those in!" I demanded. Pointing, I said, "That switch is bad."

The owner shook his head. He ran down to the electrical box. The lights in the room came back on. The reception man smiled. I pointed to the switch. He took the bait. I became smug. "Oh...," he said, calling down to the owner to flip the breaker one last time. "you shouldn't use that switch, I think."

"No shit."

I was so tired, I fell asleep with the TV and the bathroom light on. I kept hearing dripping in the bathroom. I woke up a couple of times to see what was leaking, but couldn't find anything. At 5am I had to pee. Afterwards i noticed I hadn't brought the toilet paper into the bathroom, but that was ok, because the Cambodians use a kitchen spray hose to clean off their private parts and every toilet has one. I picked it up, and was just about to spray down there when I noticed that my hand was brown. The sprayer was leaking, the cause of that insistent dripping sound. I couldn't find it because it would travel down the hose and drip down the toilet. I dropped the hose and jumped off the toilet, fast as lightning. I looked behind the toilet and saw a puddle of what looked like raw sewage going down the bathroom floor drain.

Backing away from the toilet in shocked disgust, I ran to the bathroom sink to scrub my hands. The water flowed cleanly for only about 2 seconds, then went that horrible brown color. I sniffed my hands--they didn't smell like sewage. It was mud. It took twenty anti-bacterial wipes to banish the severe case of germ heebee-geebies caused by this experience. Early or not, I was going to go and complain to Amy and Liesel, but when I opened my hotel room door, there was a man sleeping there! I hopped back into the room, locked the door, turned the TV back on--watched a horror movie, and we checked out at 9am.

We are now staying at the Teo hotel, which has sparse, but pleasant accomodations and a nice restaurant. Yesterday, Sophal showed us his village, which was a wonderful neighborhood of wood houses on a stilts. They are alongside a lake that rises up to ground-floor level in the rainy season allowing them to jump from their rickety back porch, right into the water. Today Sophal took us to a sculpture school where young people get apprenticeships with a woodcarving master. I bought a large, elaborate carving, that I'm hoping I will be able to get home somehow.

We also finally found tailors to make us some clothes. We spent a couple hours in the heat of the market haggling, and I'm convinced it is not worth the trouble no matter how cheap it is. I'll let you know how the clothes come out. I'm having two shirts made, one of raw silk and one of cotton for $2.50 each. After that we went to the Auntie's house for lunch. Then we visited Cree's home on a farm. She has the nicest place so far. Beautiful, traditional architecture. The house is on stilts and the family hangs out underneath during the hottest time of the day. Cree's son took us on a Cambodian hay ride through the rice paddies in a wooden cart pulled by a tractor. It was fun, but all the bouncing combined with many careless knocks in the course of this trip brock my Sennheiser microphone. I'm more than a little depressed about that.

There have been some not-so-tentative inquiries as to whether we Americans might be interested in marrying Cambodians and taking them home with us. Our arguments against this haven't been very convincing, it seems. I'll keep you informed on any pending nuptuals.