Cambodia Travelogue

As is the custom in Kuwait, it was about a week before we were set to depart when called the travel agent to pay for and pick up our tickets. Only when we called, the ticket price was about almost 50% more than we had originally been quoted. We checked online and found that if we bought the Bangkok to Phnom Penh portion of our ticket from a Thai travel agent, we would end up paying just a little more than the original price. So we went with the the online ticket for that portion of the trip, and paid a ten dollar delivery fee to have them send it out to the Bangkok airport for us.

It wasn't until we were taxiing up to the terminal in Bangkok that I started to worry about the possibility that these tickets might not present themselves so easily. We did have a contact name and meeting point at the airport, and a contact number if anything should go wrong. So after flying all night, we wearily walked down the bridge towards Don Muang International Airport in Bangkok, trying to scurry to customs before as many of the other passengers as possible. We didn't make it far. Waiting for us, with one of those little signs with our name on it, was our contact from the travel agency. A quick passport check and the tickets were in hand. Plus, he advised us to head down to the connecting passengers check-in, to see if we could save ourselves having to go out and check in again. Well, the lounge was clear at the other end of the airport. It took at least 15 minutes to walk down to it. For the last 10 minutes the airport was deserted, except for solitary Thais napping at duty free carts.

When we finally did arrive, our airline (whose flight didn't leave for four hours) didn't have an agent on duty for two hours. However, after a few inquiries and language difficulties, the agents from Thai Airways assured us that we did not need to worry. Once all the other bags had been picked up, and ours were left on the carousel, someone would pick up our bags and store them in the unclaimed baggage area. When President Airlines opened their desk, they could send someone down to collect them and see that they joined us on the plane. Despite fears of our bags being picked up by someone who watched them travel around and around until they realized we weren't coming, we decided to risk it.

Of the few other passengers that trickled into that secondary connection lounge was a man who must have been an African chief of some sort. He was dressed in a sarong style skirt and was bare-chested, except for a folded blanket that he wore over his shoulders like a shawl. He was barefoot, but wore a large nose ring and heavy bracelets and anklets. After two hours, prolonged by exhaustion and waiting in airport waiting-room chairs, an agent arrived. We checked-in and, after another half hour of waiting, she promised us our bags had been found and would be sent on to Phnom Penh. Our gate was just past the gate where we arrived - as far away as physically possible without leaving the building.

I had noticed in the wait that we needed a photo for the entry visa to Cambodia. We stopped at a little photo booth. I opted to follow the new "no-smiling" rule and produced four photos of a quality that could have come from the waste paper basket of the mugshot room of any on the world's finer police stations. Karla, rebel that she is, smiled and her photos looked every bit as bad as mine, but she looks like she was happy to have had them taken.

Aside from being locked out of the airport and having to wait on tarmac for about five minutes, Phnom Penh airport was clean, modern and efficient. In about 30 minutes, we had filled in the paper work, bought our visas, picked up our luggage, and cleared customs. We changed some money and caught a taxi into the centre of town. Eventually, we learned that there was no need to change money. 4000 Cambodia riel has been consistently worth about one US dollar. Most transactions are negotiated in US dollars, with riels taking the place of change. It doesn't help the riel's usage that the larges bill, 10000 riel, is worth $2.50. Cambodians used riels. One driver we hired for the day explained that he usually earned about 10000 a day, which was enough to support his family of four.

Our taxi took us straight to the area where buses leave for other parts of the country. We were lucky enough to hop on a bus as it was pulling out. The Lonely Planet stressed the fact that Cambodia had some of the worst roads in the world. The first road out to Kompong Chhnang, a national highway, was a narrow two lane strip. It was being replaced along one section, where the dust that would form the base for the road had turned the plants along the side of the road red. It took a couple hours before we pulled into the little town that the LP described as an atmospheric little colonial town.

As we pulled into town, we realized that no one on the bus spoke any English. The town was so small that our book didn't provide the handy map of it either. Passing one guest house, we stopped the bus and got off. It wasn't the guest house the LP recommended, but it would be a place to stay. As soon as we were off the bus, a friendly, but non-English speaking motorcycle taxi driver stopped to take us wherever we needed to go. After a couple minutes of failed attempts at English, and even an attempt at Khmer (using the not-so-handy-dandy language section at the back of the Lonely Planet (LP)), we tried to thank him and began walking back towards the guesthouse we had passed. Three-quarters of the way there, we passed a roadside barber, who the motorcycle taxi driver (he had been following us) used as a translator to figure out where we wanted to go. The two of us, plus our big backpacks, piled onto the one little moped and putted off to the guest house.

The guesthouse owners looked a little surprised to see us and spoke no English. But they did show us a room - $3 with a private bathroom, HBO and an unlimited supply of creepy crawlies. We took it, since we were hours past exhausted and not feeling at all confident about our ability to explain that we wanted to go somewhere else. Karla napped. I went out for food.

Down the street, I came across one of the recommended restaurants. Their English menu consisted of steak, chicken and an omelet. I opted for the omelet. And experienced some success with the Khmer language section in ordering a beer. After lunch and a little nap, we discovered that The Fellowship of the Ring was on HBO. I was hoping to catch Return of the King in Bangkok on our way home. At 9:30, after the movie, we decide to pop out for a little snack before bed. Kompong Chhang was black - no street lights and no house lights. The town was asleep. Even our attempt to go for a little walk to look for water was abandoned after madly barking dogs came out of every dark house. So far, rural Cambodia was not making us feel very welcome. We went home and climbed into bed and slept, clothed and with the lights on for fear of losing a limb to insects in out sleep. Later in the trip, we bought a new copy of the Cambodia LP. The guesthouse where we stayed the first night, which had been to recommendation in ours, was now included only as "stay here if there's nothing else" location.

The next morning we hopped a bus on to Battambang, Cambodia's second largest city. After four hours rolling through endless rice paddies, we arrived in Battambang's bus station to be greeted by several touts suggesting the city's hotels. After several polite refusals, they seemed to get the idea. With directions to their respective hotels and new advice to make up our own minds, they let us set off on foot. We took the LP's recommendation, which this time was clean and free of biodiversity in the room. The town itself doesn't have much to offer other than being a typical Cambodian town. Daily life in Cambodia begins and ends early. By the time 6 am rolls around, the town is in full swing - cars, music, construction. (I'm sure than in Cambodia, "up with the birds" describes a lazy person). But by 6 pm everything is closed. Even all the local restaurants. At least in Battambang there were restaurants (at least two) that stayed open all the way until ten o'clock serving tourists. We had the best Khmer food here.

One day we hired a couple motorcycle drivers to take us around to two hilltop temples. When we stopped for gas at the edge of town, another driver appeared and after a brief conversation in Khmer, one of our drivers suddenly remembered he had a class to attend that afternoon. With a new driver and a bit of suspicion we set off. Once we were off the national roads, there was no asphalt. To avoid the dust-churning traffic as much as possible, we stuck to little side roads and lanes through the country. It took us almost an hour to get out to the first temple. Along the way, the driver told me that in Battambang, they have a system. When tourists get off the bus, the tout that sees them, claims them. If that tourist ends up staying at the hotel that the tout represents, all that tourist's business goes to that tout. When we had left that morning, one guy that claimed us wasn't there, so the other guy got his friend to help him. But the rightful tout found us before we could get away and claimed his job. The whole day was spent chatting with our guides about Cambodian life.

The first temple, a combination of a Hindu temple and Buddhist temples, had been taken over by the Khmer Rouge. The temples had been used as prisons and a cave on the mountain had been used as a "killing field". Wire chests were filled with the bones of the victims who had been tossed into the cave. One cave, the guide told us, still had bones down in it that we could climb down and see, but that from the top, all we could see were the clothes of the victims. The majority of the bones were locked up to protect them, the guide explained, from people who would steal them to minimize the atrocities of the past. The mountain top was also the front line after the Khmer Rouge had fled to the north of the country. Some old government heavy artillery still pointed towards the next mountain. Four recent temples topped the hill, with two new ones being built. The second temple was much older and mostly in ruins. On the way home we stopped to check out the traditional Cambodia beer snacks - large insects, frogs, snakes, small birds and ant salad, and for a taste of palm wine.

The next day we bought tickets on the ferry to Siem Reap. The ferry and taxi both were supposed to take 6 hours to get there, although the British couple we met the day before said the ferry ride took them nine hours. While we were waiting the ferry did arrive, in just over seven hours that day. We discussed the idea with a Swiss couple and decided to take a chance. We took it easy in town that afternoon, visiting some of the shops in the market and soaking up the atmosphere wandering the streets.

The next morning we arrived at the dock. We were encouraged to get onto a long, narrow, enclosed boat, but opted for a more rustic looking open (but covered) wood boat. For the next hour we cruised down the wide river towards Siem Reap. The banks were lined with river villages of houses perched high and low above the water as well as large wooden boats that looked they doubled as place of work and home sweet home. All along the route, the children seemed to be on waving duty. From standing silently to jumping ecstatically, they were always waving to us. We reached a fork in the river and turned onto a much more narrow stretch. There were fewer people here and our boat sometimes only made the corners by deflecting off of the vegetation along the side of the river.

After a couple hours we reached a water town on the edge of the lake. The schools, houses and store, either lined the banks, or were floating on the water. We pulled into a little shop here. We waited for an our until the boat we did not get on first thing that morning pulled in and we were told to switch boats. Inside the air conditioned cabin, we were treated to Khmer karaoke videos (without sound) on the ride across the lake. Cambodia has recently banned karaoke, seeing it as an encouragement to prostitution. Of all the things that people have thought of doing to try to control the world's oldest profession, this probably won't be the most effective. In fact, the law has just driven karaoke underground. Walking around Phnom Penh, we did see little karaoke bars. Everyone sat at a table and watched the video, while one person sneakily sat with the microphone and sang along inconspicuously.

We shared a taxi into Siem Reap with the Swiss couple we had met who had a third party recommended for a guesthouse. It turned out well for us, as the guesthouse we had hoped to stay in was full. We met up with Kathy and Chad as planned. Our time in Siem Reap was dominated with the temples known as Angkor Wat. In all there are more than 50 temple sites that were built by the Khmer kings over about 500 years.

The next morning, after Kathy and Chad had moved in at the Smiley Guesthouse (happily free of insects), we set out on two tuck-tucks to begin our tour. First stop was the ticket centre. 40 USD got us three days access to the sites. The man who sold us our tickets reeled off the rules and regulations so mechanically that we would have suspected he was actually a very human-looking robot. Except that after we asked him to repeat them for the third time, he got a little irritated with us. Of that 40 dollars, half of it goes into the pockets of the oil company that manages the sites. Sadly, corruption in Cambodia is such that if the government got their hands on the kind of money that tourism at Angkor Wat brings in, it would be too tempting. This way, at least there is some accountability - a portion of the ticket price does go to the preservation and restoration of the ruins.

The first three temples that we visited, called the Rolous Group, were the oldest of the temples in the area. About 20kms east of town, these sites were simple and largely under restoration, or at least preservation. When we first arrived at the site, we were greeted by the group of pushy, but polite hawkers. The same cold drinks, postcards, t-shirts, handicrafts and locally published copies of books were available at every site. The local strategy seemed to be to establish a relationship to get the business later with lines like, "When you are finished you will buy from me. I will remember you because you are so handsome."

It's hard to imagine what the country would have looked like in the 1860's. Today, Cambodia is practically an endless rice patty. When the French arrived, these huge temples were lost in the jungles. Our next stop was Preah Khan. This old set of Buddhist shrines has never been cleared of the jungle. It demonstrates how the jungle can grow in, around and even overtop of the stone structures. Some walls and temple are still standing, but much of the site is seemingly enormous piles of rubble. Except the rubble is actually piles of large pieces of carved rock.

After lunch, we toured Bantey Kdei, a temple and its grounds. And I can't remember a single distinguishing feature about it.

Our final stop for the day was Angkor Wat. As our tuck-tuck approached I was trying to figure out where we were on the map of the area, based on the river we had been following for a few minutes. When finally, we rounded the corner, I realized that the river was actually the huge moat. This was where the tourists were at. Hundreds, no, thousands of tourists are there for the Lonely Planet recommended sunset. Fortunately the ground of the site rival West Edmonton Mall in size. Over the moat and through the gate, and up to the temple we went.

The temple sits in the middle of a huge garden. The first wall is decorated with bas-reliefs (pictures carved into the rock). The pictures are massive and depict scenes from mythology and of the king's achievements. The murals are ten feet tall and to walk around all four sides took us past more than a kilometer of carvings. Inside the outer wall, an inner wall is raised up on a platform. Inside the inner wall, is the main temple, again raised high above its surrounding walls. Khmer steps are something else. They must have had long legs and tiny feet. Their stairs are dizzyingly steep. Each step rises about 40cm, but is only about 10cm wide. Today, the main sanctuary is a working temple with a statue of Buddha surrounded with offerings of candles, incense, and flowers. But the rest of the temple at the top, like the whole complex, is sparse. The wide stone hallways and courtyards are empty.

We began day two at sunrise, climbing to the top of the hilltop temple of Phnom Bakheng. There is not much to the temple itself, but to the east it overlooks Angkor Wat. It's a great spot for sunset. But since there are several hundred people huddled at the top of the temple to catch the setting sun shining of the temple who then have to make their way down the perilous Khmer steps at twilight, we opted for the morning view.

Next we headed for Angkor Thom, the megalopolis of King Jayavarman VII, the Khmer equivalent of Louis XIV. When it was built it supported about one million people. At that time, in around 1200 AD, London and Paris could only boast about 50 000. The Bayon looks like a pile of rubble. It is a nice, big pile. But this temple has definitely seen better days. When you do get close, the outer wall is decorated with bas-reliefs. They are not on nearly as momentous a scale as the ones at Angkor Wat, but they depict more domestic scenes. The first scenes are complex and detailed, but as we made our way around, the artists either ran out of time or energy. By the fourth side, the carvings were not much more than outlines.

Once inside the wall, we climbed up to the temple. The temple is made up of 54 covered shrines, arranged so that they surround and build to a central tower. The roof of each shrine is made of four carved, placidly smiling faces looking in the cardinal directions. In among the towers, the impressive organization of the construction was apparent. From inside each shrine, looking out two or three of the four doors, you could see the faces of the adjacent shrines. The faces are Jayavarman's. The Bayon symbolizes the care with which he watched over his 54 provinces.

The Terrace of the Elephants was a long, wide walkway just outside the grounds of the palace (of which nothing was left, except the temple and a couple of swimmin' holes) where the king could watch his army parade by. It overlooked a set of twelve small towers which, it is speculated, served as the justice system. To settle a dispute, both parties would confine themselves to one tower and stay there until the other gave up or god stepped in and one of them perished.

That afternoon we visited Preah Khan, another temple complex (which I am sure you are eager to have described in meticulous detail). All the temples we visited were carved stone structures that contained sets of small shrines- small rooms where a state of Buddha was found, and courtyards. I can't say I understand exactly how they would have been used. This was another nicely overgrown one. It's layout was very repetitive - form fits function, with not much to look at, one was left to reflect on the important things (for example, when the next beer would be had).

We stopped at one more temple on the way home. It was unremarkable except for the tree that had decided to grow on top of its east gate. By this time, temple overload was really beginning to set in. We stopped at a big fountain on the way home whose highlight was a human head spout (by which I can't help but be reminded of certain inflatable dolls). We had only seen about ten of the fifty, and they were already starting to be like McDonalds restaurants - characterized by subtle variations, but ultimately a whole lot like one another.

Day three, which happened to be Christmas, began with a long ride out to Banteay Srei, the women's temple. It was so named because the carving was reputed to have been too fine to have been done by men. Temple overload evaporated. We happily spent an hour roaming this small temple. The details were remarkable. Archeological work was going on while we were there. Unfortunately, it did overshadow the other two temples we stopped at - the second completely undeserving of the Lonely Planet's "interesting" description, and the second offering a dry internal moat that would have left the central shrine an island. Around lunch time, we headed back to Angkor Thom to do a bit of shopping. The journey took us past a couple of the temples that we had not seen, but which we could definitely recognize as either larger or smaller versions of other temples we had seen.

We took the afternoon off to eat and rest. I arranged a taxi he next day to take the four of us to our next destination, a town called Kompong Cham that was a stopover on the way to Kratchie. We met a couple of Kathy and Chad's Canadian friends from Taiwan at a swank restaurant for Christmas dinner. We turned in early for the next day's early start.

After about five hours on the not-as-fearful-as-their-descrition roads, we arrived in Kompong Cham, a true cross roads kind of town. There was nothing to see or do, and few places to eat or stay. The next morning we hopped a ferry to Kratchie to avoid the some of the worst roads in Cambodia.

In Kratchie, we were greeted by some of Cambodia's most persistent touts. The only way to even discuss where we wanted to stay was to stand in a square shoulder to shoulder and leave them all was repeating their hotel's promises to each other around us. Other than our boisterous welcome, the town turned out to be very hospitable. Our hotel was nice and they set up all our transportation out to the see fresh-water dolphins. The beautiful, wide Mekong River is home to a colony of dolphins that small boats take tourist out to see. Dolphins are grey bumps, no matter how close you are. But the boat got us close enough to hear their watery gasps as they took breaths.

That night, we ate at the recommended budget guesthouse. Their restaurant has two large tables, which meant we ended up sharing with other travelers. One of whom was a tour leader for Adventure Tours, who took people places that in general people don't want to go. We were shocked to hear that he hadn't yet been to Kuwait.

Our hotel arranged a car to Phnom Penh. Apparently the awful roads had been improved. We rolled into town just after noon and found a hotel just across from the national museum. For lunch we went to Friends, a little place that Kathy and Chad had found. The restaurant was staffed entirely by street kids who were being rehabilitated. The service was only exceeded by the food. It was like being in heaven. The whole place just gave you a great feeling. We took a quick look around the national museum that house the originals of all the sculpture we had been looking at in the souvenir shops.

Later that evening we met up to witness of the Lonely Planet's recommended Phnom Penh sights - the bats. Some say the museum hold the worlds largest colony of bats that live in a man-made structure. And at dusk, they come streaming out from under the roof of the museum. We were there. We waited. And waited. No bats. But we waited on the hotel balcony. The museum was a block away, across a park. Maybe the bats snuck away.

The next day, Kathy and Chad headed down to the coast while Karla and I went to the Tuol Sleung Museum. This was a former high school (that looks a lot like the school where we teach). During the 1970's the Khmer Rouge turned it into a prison where they tortured and killed their opponents. The museum was simple - bare concrete rooms lined with the photos of the people who had been brought o the prison. The third wing of the museum have paintings of the camp's operations, by a former inmate. The tour ends with a film that follows the life of a pair of people who became victims of the prison.

After this uplifting morning, we headed out to the Russian Market, the main tourist market. Clothes, souvenirs and digital piracy were on the menu. Kathy and Chad wanted to come back to pick up a few things, so this trip was only to survey what was there. After an hour we had seen what there was to see.

Through lunch we couldn't shake what we had seen at the museum. That afternoon, Karla stayed at the hotel to mark, while I caught a moto out to the Killing Fields. Records from Teol Sleung say there are ?? people here. Some of the mass graves have been excavated leaving 10-15 foot wide craters side by side in an area the size of a football field. At a few places, between the graves there were small piles of scraps of clothing and bones. At the centre, was a shrine that contained the skulls from the graves that had been excavated.

The next day we toured the Royal Palace and Silver Pagoda where the reigning King Norodom Sihanouk lives. The king, who is 80 and has ruled (on and off) since his teens, is still involved in the country and publishes a daily handwritten note (in French) on the internet. At the palace, a Cambodian who was studying English chatted with us for a few minutes and wanted us to explain the difference between grace and compassion.

We headed off to the Russian market to do a bit of shopping. Despite being four people wandering around a huge, crowded market, we managed to find our loot and each other. We enjoyed another great lunch at Friends rested up for New Year's. The restaurant we had planned to go to, were only serving a set menu (despite promising us they would offer the regular menu as well), so we went to a restaurant that was owned by a German the Kathy and Chad had met in Thailand the year before.

After dinner, the Heart of Darkness, Cambodia best bar, was the evening main destination. We were frisked going in and I hand to hand over by Swiss Army knife. I was sure I would never see it again, but it was returned at the end of the night. It was packed; locals and foreigners, young and old were all getting down. Just before midnight, a Cambodian in an giant afro wig came out to announce that the Ministry of Culture had sent a team of traditional dancers. Cambodian dance is elegant. The movement is slow and controlled. After the dance, we counted down to midnight and watched another dance before the music kicked in again. We lasted a little while longer. We said goodbye outside the bar and went home.

The next morning, we had to get up early and headed out to the airport to go to Bangkok. The airport was modern, clean, efficient and organized. It's not exactly the busiest hub, but definitely feel like an international airport. The President Airlines flight back was a little worrisome. Part way through the flight, there was distinct smell of something burning. But we landed in Bangkok. We found our way to a hotel we had stayed at last year and checked in. We found a theatre that was showing Return of the King and got tickets for that afternoon. We spent the afternoon picking up a few things that we had missed the last tie we were in Thailand, getting a meal at Karla's favourite restaurant and enjoying a Blizzard from Dairy Queen.

The next morning we were on the move again. Back to the airport for the long flight home. We stopped in Dubai, were we are forced off the plane for 30 minutes while they clean it. During that time, we clear security to get into the airport. Clearing security means being about to walk through the metal detector without setting it off, which means many people have to take off the belts and shoes. By the time we'd waited to get through the line, we had to get in the line to clear security again to get into the boarding lounge. Welcome back to the Middle East.

I have been using the Musicmatch's online music service at school where we have a high-speed connection. Included with their Jukebox software, that I use for managing and playing mp3 files, is an online radio service. The free service includes a bunch of themed radio stations (Smooth Jazz, Top 40, Adult Alternative, Classical, etc.) plus ArtistMatch. Feel like listening to some ABBA? Well ArtistMatch plays a radio station of ABBA, plus bands that sound like ABBA or that inspired or were inspired by them. If you don't like a song, you can just skip to the next one (but you can't pause or skip back). Every four songs there's a ten second add for pay for the upgrade. With that you can choose whatever music that you want to listen to, by song or artist.

We had a little gathering for Karla's birthday last night. Mostly teachers, but a few of our non-teaching friends came. We played a bit of Guesstures (a game based on charades). It's a lot of fun. You act out a series of words in a limited time. A lot of teachers were reluctant to get up and act out the words.

It's been a hectic week. The quarter ended and exams are next week. Everyday has been extra busy correcting everything that should be counted on the report card, plus exam tweaking, plus all the extra tutoring to help the kids get ready for exams. To top it all off, yesterday was contract day. We were supposed to have submitted out signed contracts yesterday if we want to return next year. Unofficially, we have another week to decide before the director goes recruiting. Oh yeah, our phone wasn't working all last weekend and for the first half of this week.

Last night, (between two tutoring jobs, did I mention that we're a bit busy) we went to for a job interview with another school in Kuwait. Even after I took a wrong turn and we were 15 minutes late for our interview, we were practically offered a job for next year. The director wants us to meet the English head and principal, for their approval, but he sounded like as long as we don't tell them they're fat and ugly and their schools smells, we could have a job.

A'takamul (the other school), would have us teaching high school classes. It pays more, about a 15% raise over what we're making now. They would give us a furnished apartment next year. But the best part about the new job would be being able to say goodbye to the school after all the headache and heartache that they have caused us over the last year in the lead-up to the war, housing, payment at the end of last year, and this year's not very appreciative contract.

We'd work harder at the new jobs. We'd teach more students - 5 classes of up to 25 instead of 2 classes of 20: more names to learn, more parents to meet with and more marking to do. High school classes would mean planning new lessons, too. The health insurance isn't as good, so we'd end up topping it up out of some of that extra money. We'd have to move. Al-Bayan is going to stop renting our apartment for us next year and just give us money instead. Our first choice would be to stay where we are and take over the lease.

I am leaning towards staying where we are now. I enjoy what I'm teaching, and how I'm teaching it and even the students (most of the time). There are some good people we work with too. Teaching the same thing as this year would free up time that I would have to spend planning and preparing lessons. It's easy to turn free time into money by doing a bit of tutoring. But we'll go see the school early next week and talk to the staff before we make any decisions.

Last year the school was planning to move all the teachers from our current apartments into cheap, tiny ones that are right on a highway in one of Kuwait's more crumbling areas. Eventually the school backed down, and let the staff stay where they are (until the end of this year). But after showing the new staff photos of the nice apartments, they moved them into the new less desirable ones. And, I don't have the details yet, last night several of the new apartments were broken into during the day. If i were superstitious, I'd say that it was a sign.

I'm only about a quarter of the way through Cambodia. And then there are the pictures to add. I made great progress last weekend, but it's been on hold since. Speaking of vacations, the visas to get into Iran were going to take too long to get. We're headed off to Oman for a week at the beginning of February with two other Canadian teachers, Greg and Martine and my favorite Kuwaiti in the world, Aziz.

In Kuwait people drive badly: they don't look, they don't signal, and they certainly don't follow any of the rules. I always feel tempted, as my western driving sense takes over and and I am forced to swerve, squeeze or stop, to just stay the course and smack into the guy in the 2003 BMW with our old and heavy clunker. Karla won't let me. But Aziz, who drives a leased car, does not get out of the way. Just the other day, we were going out for dinner when someone drifted over into us. Martine was not impressed. Our back bumper was smudged, his front fender was dented. Aziz got out and talked to him. Two minutes later Aziz got back in the car. "He said that he though I would move out of his way." It's his little grassroots plan to improve roads of Kuwait.

It helps that Kuwait has the most forgiving car lease companies. If you are in an accident, you call the company and they bring you a new car. It doesn't matter if it was your fault or not. There's no deductable, premium or service charge to pay. You just get a new car.

I'd better go and upload this before I get distracted.

Christmas has come and gone. The new year too. Why not add holidays? They came and went like a subway train through a station with the driver asleep at the wheel. School and tutoring are back with a vengeance. One night this week we got home and crawled into bed at 7:30. And not the good kind of crawled into bed at 7:30 either!

A Cambodia travelogue is under construction. For those too impatient to wait, or just not interested enough to read it all, here's a quick summary. There are wonderful people and places to visit. There are also hotels, restaurants and transport that permit you to be comfortable whatever your standards might be. It's still and poor and cruel country. But considering that just 25 years ago they killed anyone who had any sort of education, abolished currency and moved the population into the country to grow rice, its proof of their resiliency that there is still a country to visit.

Due to the Islamic calendar, we have another week-long holiday at the beginning of February. Oman has been a long time #2 choice of places to visit. At the south end of the Arabian peninsula, it has mountains and sandy deserts and is reputed to be the most welcoming of Arabian countries. Our second option is Iran. A group of Canadians is going to take a ferry across the gulf to travel in the southern half of the country (but north of the area around Bam).

We are still deciding what to do next year. We are leaning towards spending a third year in Kuwait. The school offered next year's contracts to the teachers for consideration. They are trying to save money wherever they can. Next year they will offer a stipend instead of housing staff in school apartments. They promise to give out what our current apartment costs to singles (50% more to couples), but leave you to furnish it yourself. They are not going to pay out sick days anymore and they've contracted out evacuation insurance (now that the war is over, insurance must be much less expensive than it would have been a couple years ago). The new staff, who are in their first year of a two year contract, are a little upset that the worry-free furnished housing has been clawed back.

The weather has changed: it's turned cold - we've turned off the AC and the guards for all the buildings are all bundled up in winter coats. Yesterday, I even saw one guy riding his bike down the street wearing a balaclava!.

Last weekend we went out for a little chalet getaway (photos are in Recent Photos, really). A gang of us went down to the south end of Kuwait for a few days relaxing on the beach. Here are a couple pictures. Ramadan is the best time to go since all of the Kuwaitis who usually fill the place to bursting are at home trying not to think about the fact that they are fasting.

We're coming to the end of Ramadan. This week we only had three days of school and two days of parent interviews. Next week there are only two working days and then we have a 6 day weekend for the Eid holiday. It was supposed to be a five day weekend, but Ramadan started a day later than they had expected (it begins with the new moon and lasts until the next new moon). The government added an extra day onto the holiday so everyone can get in all the celebration due to them after a month of fasting. Lots of people are taking the opportunity to get out of Kuwait for a few days, but we are just staying put.

For Christmas, we are going to Cambodia. We are still working out our exact plans. There is not that much to see there except for Angkor Wat, an ancient Khmer temple complex of about 100 buildings that people here who have seen it say is pretty amazing. So after that, we might head up into the hills if we have time, which we probably won't since the hills are difficult to get to, or see how long the capital Phnom Penh holds our interest, or stopover in Bangkok on our way home and try to go somewhere in Thailand. We are meeting up with Karla's cousin Kathy and her good buddy Chad, so our plans will depend on them too.

People who have been there have said that the Cambodian people are much friendlier and welcoming that others in the region - even the Thais. The capital has a problem with crime at night, but by staying in established areas and travelling by licensed taxi, you are safe. Cambodia will be a safe place to be. Plus it has no Muslim population, was a French colony (so, it has minimal British and American interests) and is not a popular draw for western tourists!

I started tutoring a new kid. He was passed to me from our head of department, who was just too busy to tutor the Faisal. He's a very sweet little guy. Whenever I arrive, somehow he can always remember to make sure I get served tea, water and something to eat (fruit, popcorn, sweets). But the homework that we work for an hour to do, he forgets in his bag and doesn't hand in the next day at school. When I was there yesterday yesterday, I got a tour of the family garden at the end of the lesson. So far, I haven't really gotten attached to any of the kids of tutor. It's always been a pretty businesslike relationship. Most days I don't see anyone but a maid and the kid. But Faisal and his family are very welcoming - I feel much more like a guest in their house that someone working for them.

I have been keeping myself busy in my spare time with putting all of our CDs on the computer. I got a new hard-drive and an external case for it so there's tons of room for music. The computer is hooked into the home theatre speakers and the Musicmatch software does a pretty good job of playing the music. It will play be artist, or album or make a mix based on the mood or speed you request. Plus you can tell it which songs you like and don't like and it remembers to play those more or less often.

We had a problem with the car again last week. It is running well again, but we needed to have the distributor replaced for the second time. When it wouldn't start in the mornings earlier this year I took it to our regular mechanic who checked it out and tuned it up, but couldn't find anything wrong with it. But the next day, it wouldn't start at all. So I got a mechanic who lives right around our building to work on it. He checked everything out and replaced the distributor and it ran fairly well. But last week, it ran really rough on the way home from the chalets. Anytime we went up an overpass or were just cruising in top gear, it would misfire. So I took it to the local guy and he wanted to put new spark plugs in again - the last ones I got weren't good enough - I needed Chevrolet factory plugs. It didn't sound right, so I took it back to the regular mechanic. He took a look at it and decided the distributor was no good. Since we got it back, it has been running perfectly.

Since the beginning of the year, we've had to replace the battery once and the distributor and sparkplugs twice, plus had a tune up and the car towed to the shop. When the car was in the shop the second time and we were looking for a ride to school, it started to feel like owning this car wasn't such a good deal after all. But when it's all added up, the car has always got us where we needed to go and has never broken down and left us in the middle of nowhere. Plus all the work we've had done so far this year has only cost about $500 - which is what it costs to rent a small car for a month here. Plus, a taxi driver told Karla that our car is worth more now than when we bought it because there is a great demand for them in Iraq!

Yesterday was the end of the first quarter at school. We entered our grades. Our school, which does have a computer network, still puts books in the staff room where teachers have to manually enter the grades. The advantage to this antiquated system is that I can take a peek at the grades all the other teachers have given each student.

When I penciled in my grades, I admit I was one of the last (but still on time), I got to see all the grades. I am hard marker. My students have to work to get A's and I'm not too worried about giving F's to students who are not able or willing to do the work. It wasn't any particular students that interested me, but what the other teachers are doing. It was very interesting. In grade 6, the grades that teachers who are in their first year at the school gave are significantly lower than those of the teachers who have been at the school for a long time. It looks like it takes at least a year (perhaps two in my case - my marks still aren't that high) for teachers who come here to figure it out.

In Kuwait we have something called "wasta". Well, I don't have it, but Kuwaitis do. Wasta is a magical problem solving agent that is directly related to how much money you have and how close you are to the important families. Wasta lets Kuwaitis walk past the line and be served. It gets them out of having to pay speeding tickets, or overdue electricity bills. And it helps students. Students who don't do well result in parents who are used to getting their way come in to meet the teacher.

This year, my scores are not the lowest. I am still in the low end - my scores are close to the new teachers. Maybe it means I am learning slowly. I hope that means I can look forward to fewer parents arriving to tell me what and how to teach.

This week Ramadan began. In honour of everyone's misery, they let us all come to work two hours late. It's like a four day work week. Just not as convenient. I think people handle the hunger pretty well. They generally stay out of squabbles and disputes. And their driving doesn't deteriorate that much (not that it could).

Last week I caught I a student cheating in my exam. Printed copy of notes that answered on of the test's questions was in his hands during the test when he knew he was not allowed to have anything in his desk. Father didn't believe it. He had just found the paper in his desk and was trying to hand it in. So dad came into school and we had a meeting with the principal. I could tell it wasn't going to be a good one when he started with "I have three children in Al-Bayan and, while I think it's a good school..." In the end when he didn't get his way, he decided to make his statement by pulling his kids out of classes in the middle of the day to take them home. Is it any wonder that this kid is the little sneak that he is when dad so charming.

This weekend, we attended a little Halloween party at our friend's apartment. There are a couple photos of the event in the recent photos section. At the end of this week, the first quarter ends. Is the year passing that quickly?

Today is the day we make our first even mortgage payment. Out little house has been rented for the winter. Someone we know from the ski community in Winnipeg will live there with a couple other people. At least it should be well taken care of. Plus it's comforting to know that someone has committed to paying the bills for the next 6 months.

We went to a party at our Latin dance teacher's house last night. It was a pretty standard Kuwaiti affair: bad music, a bit of half-hearted dancing and way too much food. Except for when salsa or meringue music came on, then there was at least energetic (and cramped) dancing. After a couple of hours of dancing, and the second playing of the "It's getting hot in here, so take off all your clothes" song we called it a night. It is good to get out and meet a few people who aren't teachers. Ernesto, who can dance the meringue like his hips are afloat on stormy seas, is a Porto Rican who drives a transport truck up into Iraq. Unfortunately, the party DJ's like their music loud, so having a conversation with people is a challenge.

We have been leading a quiet life since we got back. A few parties to keep us busy on the weekends. But, we've stayed away from restaurants. There's lots of tutoring and exercise. We've worked out a system whereby we earn our pocket money based on the number of times we exercise each week.

Karla bought me a DVD player as an early Christmas gift (it was on sale) and I paid for the home theatre speaker system out of my exercise money. Our CD player stopped working and we took advantage of the misfortune to upgrade. We can still listen to regular CDs as well as CDs with mp3s on them, plus we can watch DVDs. It will even accept a CD with pictures on it and run a little slide show. But trouble started on Wednesday when a student asked me in class to hold onto her DVDs. Well, she forgot them and I brought them home. I popped one into the DVD player to see the wrong region screen - a screen I was not supposed to seen after being promised that the player I bought was a multi-region player. In fact, none of the three would play. I went to bed Wednesday night thinking about what I would say when I went back to the store.

Thursday morning I got up early and while I sipped my coffee, I decided to check on the internet to see exactly which DVD players were multi-region and which weren't. After a bit of surfing, I had a pretty extensive list scribbled down, (including the cheaper model I had almost bought t hat didn't have the surround sound outputs). I read that some players have a switch inside the controls which region's code it accepts. Just for the hell of it, I thought I would do a quick search to search to see how difficult it would be to alter ours. My first Yahoo result took me to a page that described a process of pushing a few buttons on the remote in the magic order. And sure enough, in a matter of 30 seconds, I had adapted our DVD player to accept discs from any region.

Has anyone notice that Karla never makes an entry here? Friendly suggestions that she take a more active role in (or complaints that I am taking over) website content can be sent to her directly to her.

I was driving home (alone) today, when good old Bruce Springsteen came on the radio. VOA's Roots and Branches (folk music) programme was doing a show on baseball song and "Glory Days" made the cut. Apart from reminding me of Bruce's own glory days with his Born in the USA album, I really could hear the bit that influenced Dan Bern in his lyrics and vocal style. I read a BBC review of one of Dan's shows that described him as a "Salvation Army Bruce Springsteen". I could hear the straightforward storytelling style and enjoyment in Bruce's voice that makes Dan so fun to listen to. Bruce doesn't have Dan's unconventional values or his senses of humor and the ridiculous, but he did have a hand in it.

I also watched a shop called "Rough Science". It was a reality documentary. Take five scientists, drop them at an old lumber mill in New Zealand, furnish them with simple tools and a box of junk - old radios, pots and pans, wire, elastics, zip ties, a bag of sugar, etc. and give them a job to do. In this case, it was to find and accurately weight gold. The geologist scouted the rivers for good places to look for gold, the electronics whiz started building a metal detector, one set to work building a scale and using a bag of nails and wire to make it accurate down to a tenth of a gram, the botanist went into the forest to find plants that would strain the gold flakes out of the sediment as it ran through a sluice. No alliances, no hissy-fits, no insects to eat, just some good old fashioned resourcefulness. There may be hope for TV yet.

Today is Sunday, the second day of our week. Sunday is the only day that Karla and I can come home together. Every other day of the week, one of us is carried off by tutoring. We get home first, then go tutoring. But today was payday for me, so it all seems worthwhile again.

The highlight of my day, other than being able to drive home with my wife, was an episode of Seinfeld and a Surfer on Acid (Kuwaiti style - made with real coconut milk because Malibu is only 20% alcohol and therefore an inefficient product to smuggle). Karla is about to kick me off of the computer and send me back to Midnight's Children, which might be my new highlight of the day - but so far the book hasn't really grabbed my attention. In fact, I look at the six hundred pager and wonder how long it will take me to get through it.

Karla has returned to her Kuwaiti alter-ego, Supertutor. She has not only taken on the role of deputy mom, supervising three kids for 2 hours each day.

I've been working on a page about our trip to Tuscany.

I also added a few photos from the summer in the Recent Photos section.

Tuscany Travelogue

Two seats, two wheels, two sore bums.

Tuscany is an ideal place for a bike tour. It is teeming with quaint little towns and not so crowded with tourists in early June. There is a lot to see within an easy day's ride. And with such a ready supply of delicious food and wine the commitment to a few hours of exercise leaves you feeling guilt free at meals.

It's hard to be critical of Tuscany, but the transport system lends a hand. The bus system and train system are not coordinated. Bus hubs are large towns, so when trains drop you off in small towns, you're stuck. There's no way to get to neighboring small towns without first bussing your way back into a large town. Except via taxis. Even then, you have to be lucky enough to locate a public telephone (bus terminals and nearby hotels aren't overly interested in helping tired backpackers with their transport problems - not even offering or allowing use of a phone), and lucky enough to find the only taxi driver in Montepulciano at home!

When the town's one taxi driver pulled up in a Jaguar, we had no choice but to hop in and make our contribution to his luxurious service. By the time we had made it to Pienza, the couple who were renting the bike to us were upset that we were late. We checked into a modest little hotel, ate wonderful handmade pasta for dinner, and repacked our huge packs into tiny panniers. We only had time to take a quick peak at the medieval town perched on top of a hill before we turned in.

The next morning we consulted with the renters about our route, insisted our bike had working brakes, and headed out with only a minor delay. We made great time as we followed the quiet side roads from Pienza towards San Quirico d'Orcia. It was only a week later, going the opposite direction on the same road, that I realized how much the slope favoured us on that first day. Nevertheless, we made great time and stopped in San Giovanni d'Asso during the mid-day lunch break that all Italy takes. We sat in the courtyard of the cathedral and had a little rest. The next hour, we worked our way up to Abbazia di Monti Oliveto Maggiore. An Benedictine monastery that featured a series of frescos, an apothecary, and an ancient library (whose size was reduced from 40 000 volumes to 10 000 when Napoleon turned the monastery into a barn and the shepherds burned the books to keep warm during winter).

The last 12 kilometers of the day were a speedy downhill cruise into Asciano where the tourist office directed us to a room for rent in a private house. They spoke no English, but the room had a huge balcony. Breakfast in Italy is coffee and a croissant. Had we known, we would have skipped the exercise in English-Italian translation, an attempt to communicate that we wanted breakfast with no meat. The older couple were very friendly and served up a delicious sweet lemon cake with coffee - a great start to our second day!

Before leaving, Karla decided that a stop at the local bike shop for proper bike attire was a necessity. The super padded shorts made riding on an already very bruised butt almost tolerable, so we set out to ride up into the Chianti region. After a few worries about being lost and another English-Italian translation experience (this time with the help of a map), we made it to the foot of the hill that climbed way, way up to the town where we were going to stay. We made it a few hundred meters up before we hopped off to push the bike. After an hour of walking and one German shepherd attack (aborted, thankfully), we reached the top. We rode across the top of the plateau, stopping just before Radda in Chianti at a quaint little garden cafe to be shamelessly gouged for water.

Radda was a beautiful medieval town on top of a high ridge. Our lesson of the day (that restaurants close after lunch from 3:00 to 7:00, when they open again for dinner), made our first authentic Italian pizza dinner even more delicious. After dinner, we sat out on top of the city wall to watch the sunset over Chianti's famous hilly vineyards.

The next morning, the climb to Radda paid off. For the first 20kms, we cruised downhill towards Poggibonsi, passing tens of Sunday cyclists beginning their week-end ride in the upwards direction. We passed through Poggibonsi and started our climb to San Gimignano, the medieval Manhattan. A skyline that resembles a modern city comes from the medieval fashion to build square towers to demonstrate a family's influence. We arrived to find nobles, maidens and soldiers roaming the streets in honour of their medieval festival. After lunch, we visited the torture museum. At first it was an opportunity to see some of the real artifacts that had inspired the Hollywood dungeons. The museum had an extensive collection of items and artwork whose detailed and explicit explanations were disturbing. The Hollywood side of torture and execution are the most benign forms that existed and were reserved for nobility. Much less consideration was afforded to commoners, and the treatment of heretics and traitors shattered my prior definition of cruelty.

Leaving the museum with a quesasy feeling, we needed a little time to recover wandering the quieter parts of town and exploring the quiet and frescoed cathedral. We left San Gimignano as afternoon turned to evening to ride to Colle di Val d'Elsa, an old but ignored town. As we wandered the streets looking for a restaurant, we discovered that a community dinner was being held in the old town square to raise money for schools. Our genuine Tuscan peasant meal was nothing like the pasta and pizza we had been served up until then. The salads, beans, vegetables and bread (we skipped the wild boar) were equally delicious.

We stayed two nights in Colle di Val d'Elsa. The next day we rode out to and back from Volterra. As I write this, it's beginning to feel a little repetitive. Volterra is another medieval town perched on top of a tall hill. Again, we visited the cathedral and wandered its narrow streets, stopping for delicious, fresh pasta and/or pizza. Did I mention that it's set in the middle of beautiful rolling fields, covered in long rows of grape vines, or even in mid-June, golden wheat or yellow sunflowers?

The next morning we opted for a short ride and stopped in Siena, a city of 60 000, and the largest stop on our tour. It was a real city. It was big enough to get lost in and to have an ostentatious cathedral. The term "golden oldies" took on a whole new meaning as we toured the museum, that had seemed to dedicate its all of its 50 or so rooms to those life sized gold-leaf backed panels portraying either a standing Virgin Mary or Jesus.

We left Siena and headed off road (off asphalt anyway) to head towards Montalcino. The small country roads took us through small villages, but led us over hills instead of along them, and eventually down to cross the river. We began the longest climb of our trip. After three hours of continuous uphill grind, we reached the home of famous Brunello wine. We went out and splurged on expensive glasses of smooth and savoury wine that afternoon, then foolishly ordered a carafe of watery, bitter grape juice, uh, I mean, house wine with dinner.

Our last day of riding started with a 10km decent to Abbazia di Sant' Antimo, an old stop on the medieval pilgrimage tour that had lay in ruin until about ten years ago, when the chief Benedictine monk sent five monks out to restore it. When we arrived just before 10, when it opened, we peaked through the old wooden doors to see two shafts of sunlight light up the incense smoke that wafted up from the swinging censer and to hear Gregorian chanting as the monks performed a Latin mass. After the series of immense, ornate cathedrals we had seen, it was a mystical experience to see this simple almost undecorated stone church, nearly empty, but very much in use.

The road home seemed long and continually uphill. By the time we got back to Pienza, the idea of a few days travel without pedaling was welcome. We enjoyed our quiet small town evening before heading for Rome the next day.

The capital was busy, crowded, and swarming with tourists. Our first afternoon we visited the Colleseum, the ruins of the ancient city, and walked past Fontana square and Trevi fountain. By the end of the day, we felt overwhelmed by the scale of the city. The next day we got up early and returned to Trevi Fountain and Fontana Square to catch a glimpse of them with only tens of other people, instead in a crowd of hundreds if not thousands like the day before. The fountain in Fontana square is supposed to represent the four seasons. Personally, I think it represents four typical reactions to morning - despair, shock, delight and denial. We walked over to the Vatican and despite arriving before it opened, we were easily behind more than 1000 people, more than three blocks away from the entrance.

The line moved quickly, and we were in the museum before we knew it. No other art gallery or museum, or for that matter, any building I had even been in prepared me for the size and scale of the Vatican. It was hundreds of rooms, not only filled with world class pieces of art, but frescoed and mosaiced floor to ceiling. We walked (without stopping to look at the displays) for an hour inside the building to reach the Cistene chapel. Even the exit was grand. Saint Peter's Basilica was also regal: enormous, opulent, majestic (pompous?). It made every other church we had seen a mere warm-up.

When we rose the next morning to catch the train to the airport, we weren't very sorry to be leaving Rome. We appreciated even more the beautiful country setting of Tuscany.

We're back. All my good intentions to get back here and get the website update with all our summer adventures haven't turned out. In fact, it was only when Lianne emailed to request a website update that I got my act together.

Since we returned we have both been busy getting ready for school. We returned to a rumour that the school would be moving us out of our homes into smaller, cheaper places. This after having almost forced us to move last year only to have backed off and promised that we could stay where we were through this year. Sure enough the first week back at school, a memo appeared in our mailboxes telling us we must move. Fortunately, the next day, another memo turned up saying that the staff could stay where they are after all. And since, we have gone a whole week without another memo!

I also had to have our car registered and insured for this year. Although it took two afternoons to get the insurance, then to go through the safety check and registration, it was cheap and mostly waiting around for my papers to be processed, copied, stamped etc. The safety check consisted of reving the engine and showing that the brake lights worked.

Karla is off tutoring tonight, having been hired as a deputy-mom to a Kuwaiti family. The chief-mom is expecting and wants Karla to supervise the academic performance of her three other kids (age 8, 9 and 11)
Otherwise we are back to life as usual in Kuwait. The maid is back and preparing food this year. Every Sunday she whips up a couple Indian dishes that we eat all week. Last Sunday she surprised us with salad and creme caramel to boot.