Mr. Guinea Pig, you were right...kinda...

The last few weeks leading up to Kate and my departure from Maryland to Cambodia were filled with heartfelt goodbyes, well wishes and an outpouring of love from our friends and family.  I think about our "last moments" with people from home often, thinking that somehow that last image I have of that person as I said goodbye has frozen them in time and will keep them just so for 27 months until we come back home.

One particularly fond farewell, that I think about often, was over dinner with one of my favorite fellow young married couples, for anonymity's sake and because its adorable, we will call them Mr. and Mrs. Guinea Pig.  During this dinner, as is like to happen, the ladies discussed things like weddings (even though they were already married), blog fonts and...I don't know...probably purses or something.  The menfolk, however, were deeply engrossed in far more interesting topics such as hockey, which season of Dexter is best, and of course, whether or not Cambodia would have an abundance of wild boar for Kate and I to eat regularly when we arrived.

A wild boar.  Picture from Wikipedia.com

Now, on this last discussion topic, you might say that things became heated, things were said, positions were established and a gentlemen's bet of sorts was set.  I took the position, that, "no, Mr. Guinea Pig, there are no wild boar in Cambodia and far from it, we would never eat nor hear of anyone eating wild boar in the vicinity of Cambodia during our tenure as PCVs in Cambodia."  Mr. Guinea Pig, as you might have guessed, took the opposing position.  He described a fantastic world where white rice rains from the heavens (kind of true...), cats and dogs live together in harmony and yes, wild boar would become a virtual staple for us and that one simply had to step outside to find them scamping about in droves.

I take this moment to publicly admit defeat to Mr. Guinea Pig, as I am now aware of wild boar being spotted, caught and consumed not 12km from my very place of residence.  This may be a far cry from the endemic of boar described to me, but I admit that the terms of this bet were clear and I have been bested.

Your reward of a full rack of wild boar ribs awaits you in Cambodia, Mr. Guinea Pig.

Let me tell you about my counterpart….

As an English Teacher in the Peace Corps my main job is, as you might have guessed, teaching English in a Cambodian public high school.  When I tell people back home what I do, I think sometimes they imagine me as though I am in some kind of American-styled school building, with my own classroom and a teacher’s lounge to retreat to during breaks (this isn’t accurate).

In fact, what I actually do on a day-to-day basis differs greatly from what I had envisioned ten months ago when I found out I would be teaching in Cambodia.  Education PCVs in Cambodia work with counterparts when they teach – this means that every day when I go to school to teach, I am not just teaching by myself, but with a Cambodian counterpart.  Admittedly, I was a little put off by this at first.  Like any true American, I wanted to do things my way, at my speed and without someone else looking over my shoulder.  After all, isn’t that why they brought in an “expert English Teacher” from America?  

The reason Peace Corps pairs you up with counterparts is really a brilliant move on their part as far as the development process is concerned.  Imagine what might happen if I was a fantastic teacher in Cambodia, I put in my two years and then I left.  I might have influenced over 1,500 students during my time here.  But what if, instead of teaching alone, I had worked with and taught alongside a few teachers consistently over that same two-year period.  I would still be working with and influencing those same students, but simultaneously imparting my knowledge and, perhaps more creative teaching strategies to them to continue using after I leave. And the exchange swings both ways, for every day I work with a counterpart I learn significantly more about the actual state of the Cambodian education system, how to navigate its pitfalls and how I/Peace Corps can contribute to sustained improvements from the perspective of their own system instead of dictating educational reforms to Cambodians from a place of ignorance. 

I work with two counterparts to teach close to 500 students, mostly 9^th grade, but I teach some 12^th grade students as well.  For each class that I teach, I coordinate my plans with the plans of my counterpart for that specific class.  As you might imagine, your counterpart can make or break your Peace Corps service, and certainly, can be a huge factor in your sanity levels. 

During my first three weeks at site, I was strictly an observer at my school, showing up diligently each day to watch the different English teachers, noting any areas in which they could improve, their level of English competency and how they interacted with their students.  I chose two counterparts to work with based on these observations and since October, I have been forging a particularly rewarding relationship, both professionally and personally, with my main counterpart, let’s just call him Mr. S, as his name is difficult enough to pronounce without me trying to write down the crazy-ass phonetics.    

Mr. S looking quite dapper in his formal teaching uniform next to me.  This was
during the parade and ceremony for the Cambodian Independence Day this year. 

We became fast friends and solid coworkers within just a few weeks of my starting to teach.  It is difficult to describe what I really like about him to those who may not have much experience with Cambodia’s culture.  Suffice it to say, many of the aspects of Cambodian men that tend to work against an efficient system of education are simply absent in Mr. S.  Where some teachers might focus our daily conversations on whether or not I have taken a Cambodian wife yet (they know I am already married) or if I would like one, Mr. S without fail will ask how Kate is doing and request that I relay his greetings to her.  Where some Cambodian English teachers might see their profession as simply a way of earning money and therefore see attending their classes as optional, Mr. S has seldom missed a class, constantly finds new ways of teaching and improving our lessons and on his first day of meeting me, spoke at length at how English skills can open the doors of opportunity to many Cambodian students, telling me, “English is like their clothes, without good English skills they will be naked.”  I think the metaphor was a bit more poignant before it was translated in his head, but I got the general idea he was trying to convey to me.

One thing I love about this man is his desire to help and make things better by simply volunteering
his time.  Here we are with a few students during a clean-up project I put on.  Mr. S helped facilitate
everything from buying materials with me, being there on the actual day to helping students the new
trash bins we bought (he insisted that this color was the "most beautiful").

When you live in a different country with a radically different culture than your own, it is difficult sometimes to know if and when you are getting through to people and if they understand who you are and what makes you tick.  During a six-day English conference that Mr. S and I attended together, he invited me to his hotel room for dinner and beers (I know it sounds sketchy when I put it like that, but I promise it wasn’t).  He wanted to bond with me and get to know each other as much as I wanted the same.  Over a few beers and some street meat (that I am pretty sure gave me a really bad stomach infection hence sidelining me for the rest of the conference) we bonded in a truly special way through a complex ceremony that men have been participating in for millennium: grilled red meat, alcohol and satellite TV.

Just as important as me being able to figure out him, after that night, I felt that he understood who I am and why I am here.

Mr. S and I during the English conference in Phnom Penh.  I think approximately

24 hours after this picture was taken I had a 103 degree fever and unspeakable issues 

with my gastrointestinal system...if only I could tell Past Chris to prepare himself...

A few weeks ago, Mr. S (actually it was his wife) asked Kate and I over for dinner as a farewell party to their nephew leaving for the US.  After living among them for more than five months already, I can confidently say that Cambodians are known for their hospitality.  During the rainy season it is not uncommon for strangers to shelter under someone’s roof as a drenching downpour goes by.  Kate and I have been offered to eat rice with many families and individuals that we have never met before.  But at his home we are treated as family and welcomed fully by the family.  Also, it should be mentioned, on the menu for the evening: fried fish, stuffed curried frog, K’mai soup, rice (obviously), roasted crickets, stewed curried duck (salivatingly good) and brought in special from a remote Cambodian province: a thighbone of grilled monkey meat.  Stuck between a moral hard place and the rock of wanting to be respectful and courteous, Kate and I tried it all…including the monkey.  

At the risk of sounding overly corny, I am very proud of my relationship with Mr. S, and can't help but think that this kind of relationship will have more of a positive impact on Cambodia and on myself after I leave than any amount of "work" that I do here.

Chris/Toph/Papa Marsh/Sihamoni/Boo Krees/Chur/Batman, back on the air…

With the turn of the New Year, I am joining the scores of those endeavoring to better myself through the self-flagellating motivating process of New Year’s resolution-ing.  Yes, I am going to try and start blogging again. 

I am not naive enough to think that people continue to check my blog in anticipation of my triumphant return to the world of print, but I do hope that someone (mom?) will check back here sometime to see that I am writing again.  Anyways, hobbies are surprisingly in short supply for PCVs in Cambodia and my past blog entries have helped to serve as both an update to loved ones back home as well as an account of memories made as a PCV. 

My goal is blogging once a week, so help hold me to it.  

I started slow and chose a topic that will help set the stage for entries to come, my name(s).  I have to collected several since coming to Cambodia. 

Chris – pretty much what I call myself.  Somehow this name seems to be used least…

Toph – one of my most favorite nicknames and the primary nomenclature preferred by my wife.  It has several variations including but not limited to Toe, Topher…ad nausea. 

Papa Marsh aka ½ of “The Marshes” – I am not sure if its my cynical-logical-sometimes-crotchety-old-before-I’m-young-mentality or just that Kate and I make good surrogate parents for those without, but especially since coming to Cambodia, Kate and I tend to become the de facto parental units for those needing a dose of advice or someone to kiss their boo-boos.  Certainly not a complaint, Kate and I both enjoy houseguests and talking through problems alike.  Regardless, it has earned me yet another nickname.

Sihamoni – So…this is the King of Cambodia’s name.  My first week here, my host grandmother and her sister saw my resemblance to His Royal Highness.  Since then, everyone from my students to the Deputy Governor of my new home province has noticed and commented on how I must be his long, lost American kin.  Calling me Sihamoni during a dinner or a class has become commonplace and usually gets, at first, a laugh, then a serious and pondering look (presumably to see if I actually could somehow be related to him). 

Kate, me and a picture of His Royal Highness.  We actually got to see him drive by during the first two months of training in Cambodia.  You can see his picture, and I am sure the striking resemblance, in this picture. 

Boo Krees – The phonetics on this one are tough, but imagine trying to same my name with no previous understand of how English speakers say the “ch” sound.   This is what my host family’s youngest members call me – they have become Kate and my nieces and nephews for all intents and purposes.  “Boo” is the K’mai word for uncle.  I must admit, this might be my favorite name to hear.  Once these kids see Kate or I coming through the front gates after teaching or coming home after a weekend away, they are ready for a hug and for us to throw them up in the air and catch them (they weigh like 20 pounds, if that…), chocolate may or may not have also solidified these bonds. 

These kids have totally warmed up to us since first invading their home and lives.  They are actually twins, but the brother's eating habits are terrible, and his growth has essentially been stunted as a result.  Now we are just one of the family...Watch out for the little boy on the right, this picture is adorably deceiving...  

That's more like it...other than our rooster, he is the loudest thing for miles.

Chur – This one may be used most frequently, as it is what my students call me and I have a lot of students, over 450.  In a town as small as mine, its literally impossible to go to the market or the store without getting a “hello, chur!”  Chur, as in the second half of “teacher.”  I joke with my students that its ridiculous for them to call me this, and for the first month I thought they were calling me “chair” and had god awful English skills.  I threaten to call them “dents,” like the second half of student…somehow they didn’t think that made sense. 

Some of my amazing students at a workshop Kate held on volunteerism.  To demonstrate the use of my name with a quote from the day, "Chur, your wife is so very pretty and you are handsome, chur."  

Batman – No one has really called me this since college, but I wish they still did.  Also, really excited for the new movie coming out soon… 

For those of you reading this, thanks for giving me and my short-attention span another shot.  I will try not to disappoint and I promise, Cambodia + Peace Corps = some pretty sweet stories, so I know you won’t be disappointed.  

Pchum Ben

The list of holidays in Cambodia is as long as Angkor Wat is old.  While I have heard unsubstantiated rumors that Cambodia has more official holidays than any other nation-state on the planet, the fact that Cambodians tend to “take off” more than just the actual day of the holiday, usually the days before and after as well if not more.

Pchum Ben is a Buddhist holiday in Cambodia that celebrates the deceased ancestors of one’s family.  At its essence, the impetus of the holiday is that, as mortals, we can somehow benefit our dead relatives by feeding them things like rice (naturally), fruit, cakes and water (because ghosts need to wash big meals down too…).  This basic level of understanding Kate and I gained through participation in the rituals with our host family and by speaking with some of our language tutors. 

At the height of the festival, families go to their local wats at different times of the day to make offerings of food and money to the monks that, it is believed, are then directly offered to the ghosts of relatives dead and gone via the monks who are constantly chanting and giving thanks.  Offerings are also made to one’s ancestors by participating in a VERY early morning ceremony where family members go to the wat and walk in a circle around the central pagoda three times.  At each corner, it is expected that you toss a small piece of rice cake or fruit away from the temple (presumably towards the ghosts) into the ever-growing piles that reach several feet in height after the ceremony is over.  This makes the angry ghosts, those who are in the Buddhist equivalents of purgatory or hell, turn back and not harm the living.  It sounds like the prologue of a sweet fantasy novel, but its actually an amazing service to be apart of.  The smell of incense is overpoweringly thick, there are so many people waking around the temple that its difficult to take full steps and the 4am bike ride in the dark to the wat makes you feel like you are either going to a Halloween party or a midnight service on Christmas. 

The festival seems to run over a three day period, during which the Cambodian transit system goes into its “holiday mode” where the number of traffic accidents goes up drastically, the price for travel increases (sometimes by a few 100 percent) and families tend to gather together at their “homelands” or where they were raised.  My usual 3k-bikeride to town went from a relatively serene and leisurely trip to one of alert, terror and a strong desire to not cross the road at all.  Cars usually drive somewhat recklessly on the highway the runs by our house and traffic laws always have been negotiable in this country, but commuting via bike on Pchum Ben felt more like a game of high-stakes Frogger. 

On the plus side, the food is awesome – but not on account of any traditions.  Since houses are suddenly full of family members, everyone is vying for the title of best cook, and since our house in particular happened to have two Americans living there, the stakes were much higher.  We had some dishes that were truly amazing and made me wonder why we had not experienced that cacophony of tantalizing spices and flavors previously.  Roasted duck that was then stewed in a thick spicy, peppery peanut sauce, curry that would knock out your neighborhood Thai joint, and this salty, rich dish with potatoes, carrots and pork that was cooked in pork fat so long it almost tasted creamy (nom,nom!).  While we had a particularly skilled cook catering to us during PST, I couldn’t help but think that this was the food I had been waiting for.

Cambodian food in general, I must say, is something that I have generally been disappointed in as it is relatively bland and has little variety.  When you consider Cambodia to be nestled among China, Thailand and Vietnam – regular leviathans of Asian cuisine – you might assume that Cambodia is one of those undiscovered jewels of culinary awesomeness.  Not so. 

Ill leave you with some pictures of my extended family, and my Yea in particular, making traditional Pchum Ben cakes of rice, beans and pork or banana wrapped in a banana leaf and cooked until the insides become gooey and delicious. 

The whole family (in town for the holiday) and a few neighbors, getting
in on the Pchum Ben fun.   Here they are making the traditional rice cakes with pork and beans. 

My bad ass with a heart of gold Yea.  She is stuffing 

rice and filling into the banana leaf wrapping that will 

then be cooked.  Also, she got up at 3am to do this...

Just for fun, one of the geckos that lives in our house.
Its called a T'kai because of the noise it makes.
We have one that is about two feet long, but
this one stands at a measly six or seven inches...

Our house! Here you can see the front porch, the
table where we typically eat all meals and the rice paddy
beyond on the side of our house.  The buildings beyond
are actually a high school where we practiced teaching
during training. 

Boost to morale and R&R

One of the larger and more looming requirements to Peace Corps service is passing a language test towards the end of one’s PST.  We all study the language of Cambodia, K’mai (or Khmer if you like, but nobody pronounces it like that here) for about four hours a day during training.  Peace Corps’ tried and true approach to language learning is fantastic because you get to practice what you have learned with your host family or by buying something at the market only minutes after having learning it.  In some ways this is more stressful because you often “forced” to use the language simply by living your daily life around town (buying laundry detergent, food, using transportation), but it typically seems to help people practice and retain vocabulary and grammar. 

Peace Corps wants all of its volunteers to learn the language of your host country so that you can be the most effective volunteer you can be.  To that end, we all are required to take and score a minimal passing score on a nationally administered speaking and comprehension test.  Many trainees want to do well on this as it is one of very few chances to really demonstrate what you have learned in a quantifiable or qualitative way given that Peace Corps seems to be vastly compromised of Type-A personalities. 

We all also want to do well because we want to learn the language; we want to be able to communicate in a basic way with our new families and co-workers; we want to make proud and impress our language teachers, who act as big brothers or sisters, cultural “hand-holders” and mentors all at once.

On one of our last hub-site days towards the end of our Pre-Service Training, we were all heading to our hub-site with bags packed for a short but much needed two-night vacation away from our training sites.  We also would find out the scores of our final language test taken just a few days before. 

Proudly and happily, Kate and I did very well and attribute a great deal of our success to having who I consider to be the best LCF/Language teacher in our group – thanks, Savin!  My wife is a rock star at life and stands out as one of the best speakers in our group of sixty.  Opening our envelopes and doing better than we hoped on our language test was not only a big boost, but also a huge relief, it was one of the last big obstacles in our way of being sworn in as full-fledged volunteers. 

If that wasn’t enough, I finally received a package from my mom that I had been waiting for, for several weeks.  Thanks, mom! It’s amazing how a jar of one’s favorite peanut butter, some hard candy and a bag of (still crunchy) double-stuffed Oreos can make the problems of the world fade. 

That night the three-fold boost to my morale was complete when we got to our hotel room to find…wait for it…a hot water heater.   Some of Cambodia’s better hotels have these little individual hot water heaters built directly into the water line of a shower so it warms the water as it flows.  Now, you may have heard me complain a few times about the stifling heat and unrelenting humidity…indeed it feels like I have not been dry since disembarking from the airplane from Bangkok.  But, it had been over two months since my last hot shower.  All the bucket showers and St. Ives exfoliating scrub cannot make you feel as clean or as human as a hot shower.  I really recommend everyone reading this blog to go two months without a hot shower, simply because on day 61 when you take a hot shower you may understand the meaning of life.   

As if my super-fun weekend of awesomeness could get any better, the next morning we headed out to a small little getaway town in southern Cambodia that is dotted with cafes, restaurants and shops run by expatriates from various Western countries.  Over the next 24 hours I would gorge myself on the damn-near closest thing I will get to BBQ ribs, decent burgers, pancakes (pumpkin spice and with chocolate chips no less!!!) and for my wife, fru-fru frozen drinks. 

I am not sure if I ever really understood the term “recharging your batteries” in the same way that I now do.  Making small talk with some British pup owners, watching rugby and drinking very cold beer and enjoying the company of some of my closest friends I have made in country was an amazing way to unwind and gear up for the last push of training.  

Cambodia's Biggest Problem...

No its not education, its not corruption, its not even the hat or the bugs...Cambodia’s largest problem preventing them from climbing the global ranks to “developed” status is undoubtedly its extensive and widespread lack of padded and cushioned seating. 

I first noticed this grave issue upon first arrival to this great country and have only continued to see the plight of this countrywide deficiency.  Anyone who has been to Cambodia and sat in a hotel chair, attended any kind of function at the Wat, sat in one of those little plastic chairs (that are definitely not weight-rated for Americans, I have broken two now…) or eaten dinner sitting K’mai style (basically sitting on top of a large wooden-slatted table, cross-legged for the duration of the meal) knows exactly what I am talking about.  I have had more cases of numb-ass, feet falling asleep and bottom bruising in my last two and half months than the rest of my combined life. 

While my primary assignment in Cambodia is to be a PCV and work on education and youth development initiatives, I am seriously considering writing a grant to import some American-standard padding for chairs, beds and vehicles in Cambodia.  There is actually probably a study somewhere out there demonstrating the correlation between the rising prosperity of a country and increases to the “cushiness” of its seating.

My frustration with this issue is only exacerbated by the fact that I have lost about 20lbs. (seemingly all from my ass, and thus my last remaining natural padding is gone) and my daily 10-12k bike rides (the seats are horrible…).  While in our training village it was difficult to choose between the stone seats around the dinner table and the unyielding, unpadded desk chair at our house, our new home will have several options ranging from a wooden slatted day bed or wooden slatted “sofas”, though the term sofa should not apply to something as torturously uncomfortable as this. 

Maybe the reason Cambodia has so many issues is that nobody wants to sit down at a desk or around the negotiation table long enough to get anything done.  I think if you really want to make a country more prosperous and democratic, give them nice chairs and padded seat cushions for their places of work, they won’t even want to leave to go home on their scarcely padded mode of conveyance to their even crappier padded kitchen table only to lie down on their rock hard or uneven wooden beds.  Problem solved...

Site announcement and visit!

I realize that my blog has suffered over the past month – I was kind of surprised to see that my last post was about killing the rat (which is still kind of awesome, I think…), mainly since so much has happened since then.  It not like I have been bored twiddling my thumbs, from permanent site announcements, to vacations, to swear-in and moving in to our new home, I have a great deal to talk about.

In fact I have been trying to keep in mind those little details that make blogs so entertaining so that I can recap when I finally put pen to paper, err…fingers to keys.  So I will try to give you a shotgun blast of updates over the past month and will ambitiously state that I will give you a retroactive post per day for one week. Ready set go.

Almost one month ago Kate and I gathered with our fellow trainees for a particularly special hub-site day, when all of the trainees from our group pour in from the three training villages to a larger central town.  As with many important milestones in one’s Peace Corps service, we were all simultaneously feeling a variety of emotions on our tuk-tuk ride in (Have I mentioned these yet?  Tuk-tuks are Cambodia’s approximation of taxis in the US, but that scarcely does them justice.  Imagine a motorcycle rigged to pull a small carriage and you have it.  They are really for shorter distances, but we sometimes test their abilities with trips of 20-30km.  Also, they would fit about four people in accordance with American definitions of comfort – we tend to have about six or seven in them on a regular basis).  As we enjoyed the wind in our faces from the bumpy, open-air ride to town, I remember literally being able to parse out the various emotions – excitement, confusion, relief, calm and some serious apprehension about finding out where we would each be spending the next two years of our lives.

So few moments in life are a true crossroads, where you can literally peer down different paths and see how the future will likely unfold based on a single decision or event.  Peace Corps as an organization must realize the power of these events because it seems like once you hit the send button on your electronic application you are subject to one every other week. 

The majority of the day was a typical site visit but we sat through each presentation or session with the impatience of children, only one thing on our collective minds.  Safety and security session, medical session (one of my favorites, our Medical Officer has an amazing balance of humor and knowledge that allows her to talk about chronic diarrhea, snake bites and skin irritations in the most comical ways), lunch, etc…but early in the afternoon we gathered in our main meeting room to see where everyone would end up.  The staff had outlined a giant map of Cambodia in tape on the ground with flags to mark the possible sites for the sixty of us PCTs. 

I must admit, this was an exciting way to approach a potentially frightening day.  As each PCTs name was called, the rest of us cheered and shouted them on as they walked to the location of their site on the map.  I think it was this event that made me realize the strong bonds I had developed with so many of my fellow trainees – I think something happens when you are with a group of such like-minded people serving a higher cause than yourself.  Over the past two months we have all experienced many of the same bitter frustrations, sweetest of joys, and identical WTF moments.  We had only each other to lean on through all of this and the experience has tempered incredibly deep friendships already. 

When we suddenly found out in which part of Cambodia we would be in and where our site would be I was excited to learn that we wouldn’t be going far from our training village and will be serving in a nearby provincial town where Kate will be “teaching teachers” at a Regional Teacher Training Center (RTTC) and I will be teaching English at the high school.  From a work perspective, one of the best aspects of our new community is the high density of NGOs and community programs that Kate and I will have the chance to become involved with for our secondary projects. 

The day following our site announcements everyone needed to get to Phnom Penh in order to then ship out to their respective provincial towns, and from them, catch more specialized transportation to their individual sites.  Kate and I were two of six trainees that didn’t need to go anywhere, as we were already in our province and therefore didn't need to travel through PP to get to our sites.  So we spent the day beginning to survey the town in more detail and took part of the day to relax and unwind in what would soon be our new home. 

It wasn’t until the next day that we found out that there was a problem with what was identified as our new permanent home.  In Cambodia, PCVs stay almost exclusively with host families, often living in the family’s spare room or in a smaller building within the family’s compound adjacent to the main building.  Since we are serving as a married couple, Peace Corps typically tries to find a living situation for couples that allows for a bit more privacy and independence than what is typical for the average single volunteer.  Often times this means that couples get their own bathroom, kitchen and sometimes even their own separate house entirely.  At our training site, we had a building to ourselves with a bathroom and bedroom to call our own but relied solely on our family for meals and any other necessities. 

We were invited along with the PC Staff to look at what was identified as our new home.  It was the upper floor of a small family’s house and Peace Corps had negotiated that Kate and I would have the use of the entire floor as our own apartment-like setup.  To leave out some of the gory negotiation details that followed, Kate and I left that house agreeing with the PC staff that both the family and their accommodations would not be a good fit for us for a variety of reasons.  In retrospect, we are incredibly grateful to the staff at PC who helped us navigate this, if not for them we would not have ended up in “our house.” 

The second house, which would end up being our home, was a separate building on the property of a medium-sized family of six.  There was nothing further to be desired from this house – running water, electricity, several appliances already ready for our use (including a refrigerator, small TV and even a washing machine…).  The family was simultaneously welcoming, lively and generous – we were later told that we were not the first set of PCVs to live here – and we immediately recognized them as our new family.  The front yard had several of the fruit trees we had become used to at our training site, the location of the house was close to the smaller of two markets within the town limits and is only about three blocks away from a large estuary that feeds into one of Cambodia’s major rivers.  In many ways, our new living situation is perhaps the best of all worlds – a rural feel with some of the conveniences offered by a provincial town, privacy from the center of the town but close access to many different people and organizations and the luxury of being able to cook for ourselves and live privately while also having a close proximity to a great family.  Truth be told, I am almost a little embarrassed around my fellow trainees that our situation is as great as it is. 

I think my biggest disappointment is entirely self-inflicted – in many ways this reality is a far cry from the perceived image of what I imagined my Peace Corps service to be.  It is hard not to form an image of what you will be doing for two years; I had built up an image of hardship service in the middle of nowhere.  I assumed that my MacGuyver-like skills and willingness to wrestle snakes before bedtime meant that this is where I would end up for my Peace Corps service.  BUT…this is where Kate and I are needed most; there is important work for us to do here, only I may end up doing it in slacks and at the front of a classroom instead of hiking boots and in six-inch deep mud.