This will be a quick blog because time is running out – I only have 7 or 8 minutes until an acute case of Food Coma strikes and I’m reduced to a sloth-like state for the next 12 hours.  But first, I want to tell you about my mission this Saturday evening – to find the best hamburger in Phnom Penh, Cambodia.

I started with a Google search and a little reading and made a short list.  I only had one hard rule – I wanted a Khmer (Cambodian) burger joint, not a Western or expat restaurant that served burgers.  There are plenty of good U.S. or Australian joints with great burgers (Pickled Parrot on 104, Larry’s on 100, or FreeBird) but I wanted the local version of the American classic.

The consensus choice ended with Mike’s House of Burgers, a spot located in a distant neighborhood, sharing a parking lot with a gas station.  So I called up Sam Sam the Tuk Tuk Man, my trusty driver, friend, and spiritual advisor in matters like these, and asked him to accompany me (and drive,) who assured me he’d be right over.   I waited extra long to leave my hotel room because I know Sam Sam is a man not to be rushed, but he still hadn’t arrived.  Calling Sam Sam was no help, because he assured me he’d be right there, like he always does whether he is 2 hours away or around the corner (Khmer people refuse to use the word, “no,” which makes for some entertaining situations.)  I spent the next half hour fending off other tuk tuk drivers who swarmed and battered me with offers to take me to the airport, go shoot an AK47, or punch me in the stomach for a dollar (our usual favorite game.) 

Sam Sam finally pulled up and we shot off through traffic, around traffic, and even against traffic until we found Mike’s House of Burgers on Russian Boulevard by the Sokimex petrol pumping station.  My first impression was that it’s sort of the House of Wax version of In and Out Burger and indeed, Mike – the Cambodian owner who escaped his war torn country in the 1970’s under Pot Pol and the Khmer Rouge, found refuge in the United States and grew to love the American culinary fare, the hamburger.  He returned decades later and opened his own Cambodian version in 2009, to please his wife who couldn’t find a decent burger in their re-emmigrated homeland, so the story goes.  

Sam Sam and I looked over the menu, including options for Mekong River fish burgers, chicken burgers, a Super Cry chilli burger, and the Chopstick Long burger.  We settled on classics – a double with bacon and a single with bacon for Sam Sam.  I offered to buy Sam Sam the $16 New Crazy Lion special – which includes something gaudy like 5 burger paddies, 10 pieces of bacon, 4 buns, a few fried eggs thrown in, and enough cheese to constipate every Cambodian national south of Siem Reap.  He vehemently declined.  We also ordered fries to share (not worth eating) and Cokes with free refills.  Sam Sam was extra enthusiastic about the free refills, and explained how they work to me as much as his limited English vocabulary would allow, “You go back again again drink drink never leave!”

My stomach must be shrinking from eating smaller meals of rice, noodles, and the occasional barbecued snake, because I could barely finish my burger.  From the looks of it, Sam Sam was in noticable gastronomical discomfort himself, though it could be from smothering his fries with half bottle of hot sauce.  

I was ready to go but waited patiently for him to put down 3 more free refills of Coke.  “I so much hambugger me, I no can eat tomorrow!” he said with half a tomato hanging from his lip.  With that cue to leave, we bowed goodbye to the staff at Mike’s and stumbled out into the Phnom Penh night, greeted by the dangerously mingled smells of car petrol and cigarette smoke. 


-Norm  :-)

1.    Before sex, she turns the heat up to 105 degrees and hands you a towel.

2.    She says ‘Namaste,’ every time you cough, sneeze, fart, orgasm, or choke on a pizza crust.

3.    Coconut oil is used liberally in the kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, and garage.

4.    There are items in her shower caddy you never knew existed.

5.    You celebrate Buddha’s birthday.  

6.    When you told her you want to buy a GTO she said she won’t tolerate genetically modified food in her household.

7.    She wants you to humanely capture mosquitos and gently reintroduce them into their natural habitat.

8.    Your condoms are organic.

9.    You have no idea why you own furniture because she always sits on the floor.

10. When you two get in a fight, she says she’s going on a “man detox.”

11. Her favorite planet is Uranus.

12. When you disagree with her, you’re, “Not on the same plane of consciousness.”

13. If you don’t take off your shoes at the door, she’ll get ‘all Warrior One,’ on you. 

14. She refuses to be part of the capitalist industrial structure that perpetuates class inequality and exploits indigenous and non-European populations.  Right after she drinks this one last Starbucks.

15. Speaking of which, her Starbucks order takes 13.5 minutes to recite.  

16. She gets road rage headed to the farmers market on her beach cruiser. 

17. If you substitute the word, ‘masturbate’ every time she says, ‘meditate,” you’ll laugh all day.

18. If she gets fired from her well-paying job, she blames the universe.  

19. If there’s a beach with a sunset or a stand-up-paddle-board within 147 miles, she’ll find it for a photo op.

20. Sriracha sauce is an appropriate gift for any occasion.

21. If she owes someone money, all of a sudden their energy is suddenly out sync.

22. She calls a break-up an, “Intimacy transition ceremony.”

23. She has a guy “friend” who’s in ridiculously good shape, wears ridiculously tight pants, and has a ponytail.

24. Her spirit animal is a baby elephant or a silver dolphin (never a hedgehog.)

25. Her credit score is on a cosmic journey with no beginning and no end.

26. She uses 47 #hashtags after posting each photo on Instagram.

27. She doesn’t like your best friend’s aura when he takes you out drinking.

28. You bury your McDonalds wrappers deep in the trash just to avoid arguments.

29. When she gets drunk she jumps up on the bar and starts doing yoga poses.

30. You know 3 famous sitar players by name.

31. You get a poop report every morning.

32.  She gets jealous if you even look at another girl’s yoga pants.

33. Your pizza has tofu and soy toppings instead of pepperoni and sausage.

34. When she busts out downward dog during the TV commercial breaks, it always turns into passionate lovemaking.

35.  She’s understanding, beautiful, caring, loving, sweet, accepting, and there’s never a dull moment.  Basically, she’s awesome and makes you a better man and you’re lucky to have her.

-Norm  :-)

"There are people in the world so hungry, that God cannot appear to them except in the form of bread."   
- Mahatma Gandhi 

I was coming back from a trip to the Russian Market here in Phnom Penh, where I bought a few t-shirts as gifts.  I was in the back of a tuk tuk and we stopped at a traffic light, jammed in with the other cars, motor scooters, tuk tuks, and vendors with bowed backs pulling handcarts filled with coconuts.  Motorists fanned themselves and shooed away the barefoot little kids begging, a sad sight you just have to get used to everywhere in Cambodia.  An old lady approached the side of my tuk tuk, hands outstretched.  She had only a few nubs where her teeth used to be and her body was shriveled and blackened with sun and dirt, impossibly wrinkled under soiled rags.  I shook my head, “no.” 

That may sound cruel, but in Cambodia you have to pick and choose who you give money to.  There are so many beggars and people working the streets that you couldn’t possibly give to everyone.  Even at a dollar per person, you’d go broke by noon.  In every alley there’s a family squatting and sifting through the trash.  In every park there are street kids sleeping with the curb as a pillow.  Along the river, dozens of teens huffing glue out of plastic bags to calm their hungry bellies.  But the more time you spend here, you also can tell who’s the real deal.  Little kids are often sent out on the street to beg by their parents or gangs, who will be around the corner drinking up the tourist’s money.  Kids hustle, pickpocket, and run all sorts of scams.  They’re kept filthy or scarred with lit cigarette butts to make the tourists more sympathetic.  In the twisted stage drama of Third World streets, having a hideous deformity or being legless is actually a competitive advantage when it comes to begging.    

However, many local Khmer (Cambodian) people tell me not to give on the street, at all.  It just encourages more begging when they see it works.  “A hand up, not a hand out,” they say.  But I still give, though these days I can tell pretty well who needs it.  But everyone who’s in country long enough, especially in the capital city, Phnom Penh, is forced to devise a policy of who they give to and who they don’t.  Basically, you have to play God, deciding who is worthy of eating that day with your dollar.  Sometimes they realize they’re doing it and even tell others their policy.  Often times it’s mapped out unwittingly in their subconscious.  It’s terrible, but it’s inescapable.

So when the old lady came up to me, I didn’t even look in her direction.  I’d just given a dollar to a little disabled boy in a wheelchair in the market, and given more to local charitable causes in the last couple weeks than I’d spent on myself.  Also, it’s not a good idea to take out your money at an intersection stuck in traffic, where you’re easy prey for someone who wants to grab it and then speed away on a motorcycle.  So I shook my head, “no,” again to her and didn’t even look in that direction, hoping to assuage my guilt.  But she pleaded again and put her fingers to her mouth, expressing that she was hungry and wanted to buy a meal, and once I caught her eyes, I couldn’t say no. 

I looked around and then took out my wallet and opened it up.  Just then, the light turned and the traffic around us roared to life.  My tuk tuk driver kicked the engine to life.  I thumbed through the bills in my wallet, feeling the urgency to find a one-dollar bill to give her.  I got caught on a ten-dollar bill and leafed past it.  The tuk tuk began to move and a look of panic overtook the old lady’s face.   She took a few steps to keep pace with us, but could barely walk upright to begin with.  I tried to grab at another bill but fumbled on the disorganized stack of one’s.  The old woman cried out in desperation.  A one-dollar tip, generous fare to give away on the street in poor Cambodia, might not seem like a lot, but a resourceful local person could eat for a day or more with that amount. 

We sped up and it was apparent that I couldn’t get her the money behind, and she had no way to keep up with us.  A thought flashed through my head to tell her to jump aboard, but she wasn’t Jackie Chan and of course she didn’t even speak English.  Our tuk tuk crossed the intersection and I saw her five feet away, then ten, crossing through traffic in a desperate attempt to somehow get my dollar bill.  The motos and cars zoomed around her, threatening to clip her if she didn’t get out of there fast.  In Cambodia, pedestrians have no rights and someone gets hit and killed on the roads every day. 

The police don’t give a shit and there’s no recourse, no court in the land that will try a case even if the driver was drunk or speeding the wrong way down a one-way street.  It’s commonly known that if a rich person (the only ones driving cars, and certainly there are plenty of 100k Range Rovers,) hits and kills a pedestrian, they just toss $500 or so out the window, either restitution for the family or enough to appease the mob of witnesses, before rolling up their window and continuing on their way.  I yelled to my tuk tuk driver but he couldn’t hear me so we picked up speed.  I had to get her the dollar because that was a cruel twist to tease her with food for the day at her fingertips and then take it all away.

I finally grabbed a one-dollar bill and did the only think I could think of - I threw it at her, out the back of the tuk tuk.   

It seemed like a terrible thing to do but there she was, wailing with arms outstretched in the middle of a busy intersection, traffic honking as polished fenders and wild came inches from slamming into her.  Still, I couldn’t help but feel an obscenity of condemnation at the act; throwing money at a begging old lady in the middle of dangerous speeding traffic.  I instantly wondered if those around me saw the whole thing progress or would just think I was terrible human being.  I hoped they saw. 

But then, something amazing happened, and I’m not dressing this up at all.  The dollar bill that I had thrown at her, sidearm and careless from maybe 15 or 20 feet away as I sped off, caught the wind just right.  

Instead of falling to the street behind me, it drifted up, sailed at eye level, fluttered, and landed right at her feet.  

It seemed like it took forever.  Her eyes tracked the bill and I was worried she would bolt in front of a car to get it, but she didn’t even have to take one step to reach it.  It came to a graceful rest inches in front of her and she easily bent down to snatch it up before a tire ran it over.  I was awestruck.  I couldn’t have made that throw 1 time out of 1,000 with a Frisbee or a horseshoe, yet alone with an unfolded bill that was jettisoned from the back of a moving vehicle in desperation.  The last thing I saw before we sped away was her holding folded hands to her forehead, the sign of thanks in Buddhist religion, or prayer, but I was certain she wasn’t thanking me.  

I still had chills, replaying the scene over in my head, by the time we pulled up at my hotel.  I hopped out and went to pay the driver.  I opened my wallet and reached for that ten-dollar bill for him to break, but there were only one’s in there.  Somehow, I’d thrown her the ten-dollar bill, even though I was certain it was a one at the time.  

I was glad about that.  Now, she could eat for a week.   


-Norm  :-)

My new Cambodian friend, Keo, mentioned that she helped poor kids who lived in the slums of Stung Meanchey.  I’d been there before – a couple months earlier I’d enlisted a motorcycle taxi to take me out the community built on the garbage dumps on Phnom Penh.  I’d read about them online, that thousands of families and children survived just by picking through the trash from the city – either to find scraps of metal and plastic they could sell, or to scavenge for food.  In 2009, the dump was moved to a new site, but most of the people who had set up shanties to live in Stung Meanchey stayed.  When you’re already at the bottom, there’s nowhere else to go.

What I saw astounded me – people literally living in garbage.  Little children ran around barefoot in between bags of garbage, broken bottles, shards of metal roofs, tattered scraps of plastic, burnt truck tires, and the rats and snakes that competed for the treasures.  They didn’t go to school and didn’t have any access to medical care.  Most of them had never even left the garbage dump slums even to go to the capitol city only 10km away.  But despite the hell-on-earth conditions and misery, I found everyone to be friendly, accommodating, and bursting with life.  No one asked me for a dollar.  Everyone welcomed me in to what homes they had and smiled.  I’d never felt more at home in such a terrible place.  (Check out my last blog and video about it.)

So when Keo asked if I’d like to go along with her, I agreed.  She told me how she used to run a community center there but it had been shut down due to lack of funding.  There were about 20 children she was trying to help that day.  Her first goal was to try and get them into school again, but that required money.  Unlike in the U.S. and the developing world where education is free, it costs in Cambodia.  Teachers make a ridiculously low sum – like $50 a month (that’s not a typo) – so they’re forced to subsidize their efforts by collecting about 10 cents from each student who comes to school.  The kids also need to pay for books and wear school uniforms, and find transportation to and from school.  This adds up to almost unspeakable sums for families in desperate poverty, but to add to the equation is the opportunity cost of having children attend school, at all. 

Children need to work in most of Cambodia so the family can have enough money to eat.  It’s just the way it is.  They’re out on the streets selling bracelets or begging from the tourists, collecting bottles and cans, or, in this case, picking through the trash.  In the provinces, they work the rice fields or pick mangos.  So with one less pair of hands from the family labor force, everyone might go hungry or they might not be able to keep shelter.   Even with both parents working day and night, there might only be $25 a month to live on.  That’s not a typo, either. 

That’s also why my friend’s community center in the slums was invaluable.  Not only did they take in the kids part of the day when parents were at work, but they gave them a meal (sometimes the only real meal they’d get all day,) help them with their homework, teach them life skills, and be their educational and medical advocates. 

It wasn’t fancy, believe me, but these kids weren’t even used to being indoors.  At first, they were wild children, going to the bathroom all over the place and making a big mess.  But they were taught hygiene, proper bathroom etiquette, and not to fight with each other or be disrespectful.  It was hard to earn their trust but over time the changes were evident and the children blossomed. 

There only other alternative was to stay outside in the dangerous garbage dump, where the kids basically raised themselves as the parents worked night and day.  A common sight in this part of the world is a 4-year old girl taking care of her 1-year old baby brother or sister, all day out on the streets.  So if nothing else, it was a positive, safe place for the kids to spend time with adult care. 

We took the tuk tuk out to the trash town (say that ten times fast!) and were greeted by a handful of mothers and scores from children, who ran from every nook and cranny of the dump when we pulled up.  As the ladies talked, the children eyed me shyly, except for a brave few who ran up and bear hugged my legs right away.  I started a round of high-fives and goofy antics and pretty soon the kids were all won over. 

After half an hour in the blazing sun, the second tuk tuk showed up and we all got aboard.  In all we had 18 children and 3 adults to squeeze into two little tuk tuks!  But somehow we managed, though I was afraid children would go flying out if we took a sharp turn along the way. 

We rolled across a highway bridge, and all of a sudden we were in the big city of Phnom Penh, not Stung Meanchey any more.  The garbage dump community was conjoined to the city but it may have been a million miles away, because for a lot of these kids they’d only get to leave a few times in their lives.  For some of the kids, it was their first time ever outside of their slum, and they eyed the busy traffic and tall buildings with wonder.

One little dude in my tuk tuk was super serious, though not unhappy, but sitting with his shirt tucked in and a look of reserved judgment on his 5-year old face like he was a bank manager and I was pitching him on a million dollar startup investment.  Keo explained that he was called The Security Guard, the most shy of all her children.  When he first came to her center years ago, he was so homesick that he stood by the door and cried all day for his momma!  For days he stood so close to the exit that it looked like he was guarding that front door, so they nicknamed him the “Security Guard!”  hahahaha I love it.   

Another little girl was smiling but obviously a step slow.  Keo explained that many of these kids had serious problems – malnutrition, developmental disorders, medical problems like dengue fever, malaria, and worms, and suffered from abuse.  For the people living in the garbage dump slums, there was virtually no chance of their lives getting better, or of their children escaping the same fate.  But prior to 2009, when they stopped dumping garbage at Stung Meanchey, things were a little better, though that’s hard to believe.  At least the parents could work the garbage dumps and live right there, as well.  Now, the city dumped all the trash at a new site far away.  But it was still the only way for them to survive so they had to get transportation to the new site every day and also bribe the guards to let them in, and they couldn’t come back home or check on their children at all.  So these kids were basically raised in an intellectual and social vacuum, with trash their only consistent companion.  The community center was the only bright light in their dark world. 

So when the teachers there asked the kids what they wanted to be when they grew up, they all answered, “teachers.”  Why?  That was the one and only occupation they’d ever been exposed to in their lives other than people who worked the trash.  Except one boy, who said he wanted to be an attorney.  That shocked the teachers because it was such an ambitious profession that required higher education.  But before they could commend him for dreaming impossibly big, he explained that he only knew about attorneys because his father was in prison. 

We were heading to the city’s central market but it was almost midday, so I suggested we stop to take the kids out for lunch.  We found a humble open-air restaurant and paraded in.  The waiters scrambled to put tables together for us.  They asked me what I wanted to eat and I went with simple fried rice and a can of Coke, but they brought that out for all 21 of us, which I hadn’t expected!

The children ate happily but I was shocked to see that most of them couldn’t even finish 1/3 of their small plates of just rice.  Their stomachs were so small from eating tiny scraps, never full meals and rarely meat or protein sources, that even a handful of rice filled them up.  But they did love watching the Cartoon Channel on the restaurant’s television, staring transfixed just like any child in America! 

I paid for lunch, mercifully only $49, and we headed out to walk the rest of the way to the market. 

The children walked hand in hand in a snaking line, like they’d been taught, and I followed nervously, making sure the reckless cars, motos, and tuk tuks didn’t get too close.   One of the little girls took my hand and wouldn’t let go the whole way down to the market, and then as we walked inside.   

We were quite an odd site – 18 little kids from the trash dumps, filthy, faces covered with rashes and grime, tattered clothes and some of them with no shoes, walking barefoot on the hot city streets, but all beaming ear to ear with smiles.  And then one big, sweating farang (foreigner) following up the line.  The Cambodian mothers we passed smiled and patted me on the back and the tuk tuk drivers laughed and called me Papa and said I must be strong for having 18 children. 

We navigated the insanely cramped, bustling and chaotic market and found the 2nd-floor stall where we were getting a good deal on school uniforms.  One by one, Keo sized up the kids and had them try on their new uniform over their clothes, with the shop owner climbing over a mountain of clothes to pick out the right ones.  The kids tried their best to stay in que and be on their best behavior, but their excitement got the best of them as they yelped with glee and jumped up and down at the prospect of being next in line to get the only new set of clothes they’d worn in years.

After the exhausting process of getting 18 kids with jumping bean energy fitted for clothes was over, we jammed into the tuk tuks and headed back to Stung Meanchey.  Immediately upon returning, they kids scattered to show their friends and mothers their new clothes.  But we called them back to the tuk tuk for one more treat – each kid got a school pouch with new notebooks, pencils, and crayons.  

Before they ran off again we corralled them long enough to take a few photos.  They said goodbye and hugged me and asked when I’d be back.   I thought I even saw the Security Guard smile!  I didn’t have the heart to tell them that the uniforms was just a start but we still didn’t have enough funds to pay for their schooling, and were far away from being able to open the community center again.  And there were scores of other little kids who didn’t get uniforms or crayons and wouldn’t ever get to go to school, unless someone helps.

-Norm  :-)

Update:

You guys ARE helping!  Just by posting the photos of the kids from Stung Meanchey on Facebook, I’ve had a bunch of you send in donations and offer your support.  We’re getting close to being able to ensure that at least these 18 kids will be able to go to school, at least for this year.  But we’d love to reopen the community center for them and do something bigger.  I’ve even been in touch with a representative from Coca Cola who’s considering a donation because they saw the photos.  

I hate always asking people for money and I know times are tough all around.  But even skipping your Starbucks today and donating the money, instead can mean one of these kids gets to go to school for a month.  So hit me up if you want to get involved.  If not, that's ok, too.  But even better, you can help by helping sharing the story of these amazing kids.  

So, from the children of Stung Meanchey, THANK YOU for caring!  

I'm proud to announce the release of the book, Cambodia's School of Hope, a collaboration effort between myself and the children and staff at the Spitler School in Siem Reap, Cambodia.  The story of how the school came to be, and what they're doing to educate and empower children in poor Cambodia, is truly remarkable.  Read about it below and grab the eBook on Amazon.com.  We'll have a print version available soon.  100% of profits from book sales are going directly to keep funding this kids' educations!  

Thank you in advance for your support and caring about these kids!

-Norm  :-)


***
Cambodia's School of Hope.

A chance meeting in an exotic land on the other side of the globe.  A local guide trying to raise money to build a well in his poor village.  Hundreds of Cambodian school children who didn’t have a school to attend, or sometimes enough food, clean water, or medical care.  

What unfolded next is truly amazing.

The story begins in April of 2005, when Danny and Pam Spitler visited Siem Reap, Cambodia to see the famous temples of Angkor Wat.  During their four-day visit to the area their tour guide was a young Cambodian gentleman by the name of Chea Sarin. Over the course of their visit, it became clear that he cared deeply for the plight of the poor villagers in his country and especially for the children.  He told the Spitlers that the lack of clean drinking water was the cause of many health problems among the village children.

At the end of their tour the Spitlers decided to donate enough money to provide one of these wells to a poor village.  Sarin sent them photos of the well being built and then when it was finished.  A few weeks later, Sarin asked them if they would consider helping him start a school at a very poor village located about nine kilometers outside of Siem Reap.  The Spitlers agreed. 

The initial concept was to build one building, using lumber and thatch construction, with a dirt floor.  The building would be divided into two classrooms in anticipation of about 60 students.  With a construction budget of less than $1,000 Sarin was able to complete the building in just a few weeks and had money left over to build some rudimentary wooden tables, which the students could use for desks.

To the surprise of Sarin and the Spitlers, almost 100 children signed up to attend the school.  Classes began in July 2005, and additional students continued to arrive, and soon the school was serving 120 students by offering half the students classes in the morning and the other half in the afternoon.  Sarin was able to purchase supplies for the students and the classroom at an average cost of about $1 per student per month, and two well-qualified teachers were hired for salaries of $70 per month each.

Given the response from the village, the Spitlers decided to provide additional funds so that Sarin could build two more buildings and hire four additional teachers.   Sarin accomplished all of this within six weeks and when the school opened for the regular school year in September 2005 the school was able to accommodate 190 students in kindergarten through second grade.

Over the years, the Spitler School has continued to flourish and grow, and now a second school, the Kurata School, is open.  Thanks to Sarin, the Spitlers, the Spitler Foundation, and donors and volunteers from all over the world, over 800 children are now being educated and given a better chance to get out of poverty.  The school also undertakes many community projects like building roads, delivering food, trash pickup and recycling, and medical advocacy for the children.

The Spitlers and Sarin have been recognized as widely as the Cambodian government and the U.S. White House for their efforts but they do it all to give these children a brighter future, not for any accolades.  What started out as a chance meeting between strangers from different parts of the world turned into something so meaningful and special to so many people – Cambodia’s school of hope.

This book tells the story of the Spitler School and looks into the lives of the children who attend, their families, their village, and the beautiful, yet challenged, country of Cambodia. 

100% of the profits from this book are going directly to the Spitler School Foundation to help these children. 

A couple weeks ago, I told you about how I got involved with Kids at Risk Cambodia, a small non-profit run by a colorful character from the U.S. named Cowboy Bart.  Bart and I rode out into the province here, together with the Cambodian medical students Keep Calm and Keep Hope, to visit two orphan sisters that Kids at Risk has been supporting.

Meeting Jenny and Jenna was a life-changing experience and I immediately jumped in to help any way I could - fund raising, building the organization a new website, and sharing their stories with you.  Thanks to your generous donations, we were able to buy them school supplies, art supplies, and some new clothing, which Keep Calm and Keep Hope delivered to the ecstatic and appreciative sisters.  

We also  got the good news that Jenny and Jenna have been accepted into a NGO's school program up in Siem Reap (a tourist city and home to Angkor Wat, about 5 hours to the north.)  The sisters are excited about the opportunity to go to school every day and have the stability of a roof over their heads in their new home, and Kids at Risk is still going to be a sponsor that helps pay for their education, food, clothing, and living expenses, and we'll always be advocates to make sure the girls are healthy and happy.    

Now, we're planning something bigger that's going to be insanely fun.  While planning the next visit to the girls in the province, Keep Calm and Keep Hope and I came up with the idea to throw them a nice goodbye party, something they've never experienced before.  As we brainstormed about what we could do for them, the med students came up with the brilliant idea to bring the girls to the big city of Phnom Penh for the party, not bring the party to them!  They told me that the sisters had never been to Phnom Penh, even though it's only an hour away, never have eaten pizza, never have had a cake for themselves, and never been into a toy store, movie theater, amusement park, etc.  

So, around May 20 we're going to surprise Jenny and Jenna and give them the best day of their lives.  We're going to send a tuk tuk out to them, but they'll surely be puzzled when we're not in it.  Instead, there will be balloons on it and instructions to hop in and the driver will take them to the city, where we'll greet them.  From there, it will be an action-packed day of spoiling the girls rotten with all the things most kids take for granted; ice cream along the river walk, a pizza party, gifts at the Toys Land play center, and the Dream Land amusement park, just to name a few. This will all be paid for out of my own pocket, not with any money from the organization.

How special will this be for them?  Remember that these are girls who, until Kids at Risk came into their lives, were used to sleeping outdoors on wooden benches in the jungle, scavenge for food, owned one pair of raggedy clothes, never had medical care, never went to school, and had no mother or father or relatives to show them love.  Now, they're going to get the superstar treatment they deserve!  

I can't wait to see the expressions on their faces, as these girls show the brightest smiles you've ever seen just when you buy them a Coca Cola!  I honestly think this could be the most fun day I've ever had in my life.  But of course it's not just about giving them toys and too much sugar - I want to take them on a quick tour of the university here in Phnom Penh, show them middle class and professional women at work, and also drive them by the U.S. embassy, just so they can get a taste of what's possible if they keep dreaming big.  The medical students and I will also help the girls transition up to Siem Reap and visit them at their new school in early June.  Our commitments to Jenny and Jenna are for life, but in the meantime, let's party!    

Yup, this is gonna be fun!  

- Norm   :-) 

These are a few of the sites and activities Jenny and Jenna will enjoy on their big day in Phnom Penh!  I'll be sure to post plenty of photos and details of the party.  

Please contact me if you'd like to make a donation to help support the girls or other children in need in Cambodia .    

After living in Southeast Asia for a year, I’ve learned to use chopsticks with fluency.  It wasn’t always easy – there were plenty of embarrassing snafus, fumbled attempts that sent restaurant patrons diving for cover, and more than a little noodle on the floor.  But I learned a lot along the way, not only about Eastern dining etiquette, but also about life.  Here are 8 life lessons I learned from using chopsticks:  

Patience.
Our inclination is to rush these days, creating a false sense of urgency and speeding through life as if it was a race.  It isn’t.  Using chopsticks helped me realize life is a slow dance, and we’ll only ruin the tempo if we rush.   

Good things are earned.
You’ll probably have to work hard to achieve anything with true value in your life, just like eating with chopsticks makes you earn (and therefore appreciate) the process of sustenance.

Only pick up one thing at a time.
We often try to do too much at once, especially in Western society where multitasking like a manic robot with 4 arms is considered a good thing.  However, by eating with chopsticks I’ve learned the importance of undertaking only one task at a time and the power of full focus.

Don’t hold on too tight.
If our desire is attached to an object, outcome, or even a person, we squeeze too tight out of fear of loss.  Instead, we should be most delicate and gentle with the things we want to hold on to. 

Don’t worry about the outcome.
The grace is in the process, the art in the journey.  That is where you’ll find what you’re looking for, not just by achieving the desired outcome.

There’s beauty in small acts.
A task as menial as bringing food to mouth can be sublime.  The small acts in our daily lives - taking deep breaths, sweeping a floor, or greeting a neighbor – are mirrors that reflect the beauty we feel back on us.   

Nourishment is sacred.
Eating is a celebration of life, of health, family, and the blessing of vitality.  Besides breathing, it is the most important daily human function and the ritual of using chopsticks pays homage to that. 

No matter how careful you are, sometimes you’ll spill on your shirt.
Life is not to be taken seriously.  No matter how planned or cautious we are, there will be accidents, mishaps, and challenges.  You’ll drop food on your shirt and make a big mess.  Laugh at yourself, laugh some more, and then keep going.


-Norm  :-)

   

I paid a visit to the doctor here in Cambodia today.  Nothing major – I just had a little bump on my back and wanted to get it checked out.  An American friend who’s been living in Cambodia suggested I check out his doctor, an Australian woman who runs a great medical clinic in the capitol city of Phnom Penh.  I’ve been traveling through Southeast Asia for the last year, and living abroad as an expat for the better part of 3 ½ years, so I thought it couldn’t hurt to go see the ol’ sawbones and get a once-over. 

I know what you’re thinking – medical care in Cambodia probably evokes visions of untrained quacks operating with rusty instruments in dirt-floored jungle clinics, chickens walking through the operating room while unanesthetized patients scream bloody murder as their sell organs are sold out the back door.  But in fact, medical care all over the world – including in developing countries – can be far better than you’d imagine.  In fact, more and more U.S. citizens are traveling abroad for all kinds of medical work, from dental procedures to major surgeries. 

There are plenty of highly educated and well-trained surgeons, doctors, and nurses who work in medical facilities of the highest standard.  The big problem is inconsistency – all the best medical facilities are in the main cities.  Once you get out into the remote provinces or the ‘bush,’ as they call it, they lack good doctors, good supplies, and often work under conditions more reminiscent of medical care 100 years ago.  I mean, this is a country where natural healers still are the go-to medical resource in most villages, working with a combination of natural remedies, herbs, animism, and even voodoo-like practices.  Just last week, a Cambodian natural healer was killed by an angry mob of villagers.  After a few of his patients took a turn for the worse and died, they accused him of being a sorcerer and about 600 people stoned him to death.  I’m not bullshitting, here.  Then you have modern and spotless medical facilities in Phnom Penh, only 4 hours away by bus.   

I caught a ride to the clinic with Sam Sam the Tuk Tuk Man, my Cambodian driver, confidante, tour guide, and spiritual advisor.  The half hour ride across town cost $3 for the round trip.  Keep that number in context when I tell you what comes next.

I arrived at the clinic, a neat and tidy but unremarkable office space in a middle class PP neighborhood, and walked in to the waiting area.  There were only a couple of people waiting.  

“You must be Norm!” the receptionist with model looks said with a big smile.  I’d called ahead an hour earlier to inquire when the doctor might have an appointment available.  Maybe next week, or if I’m lucky, closer to the weekend, I thought.  The doctor answered the phone herself, her Aussie accent crackling through the phone.

“Come right in whenever you want,” she said.  Well that works, too!

Once I arrived, I filled out about 8 basic questions on their registration form.  The doctor, a tall woman with spectacles and sunspots who had moved there 17 years ago, came up to meet me. 

“Ok, come on back,” she said, approximately 6 ½ seconds after I’d handed them my registration form, with no mention of payment or insurance.  I’d at least expected to plant my ass in one of this little plastic waiting room seats for 4 hours or so.

We went back to a blissfully-air conditioned exam room but instead of getting up the crinkled paper padded table, the doctor directed me to sit down across from her at her desk.  And we talked.  That’s right, the doctor saw me without needing to go through a phalanx of cronies first, like she was the Wizard of Oz hiding behind the curtain.  The doc and I just sat down and chatted – about Phnom Penh, about my life, about U.S. health care (she pointed out that it was first and foremost a medical business, or sick care, but definitely not health care!)   She even discussed a lot of the medical afflictions she sees with foreigners in Cambodia – the expats who pickle themselves to death by drinking all day and night, and especially the drug users.  Too many tourists buy cocaine but get powdered heroin instead, and end up OD’ing with extreme prejudice.  She even told me about how there was a whole sub-class of foreigners who were sent to Cambodia by their prestigious families with a one-way ticket and a monthly stipend, and implicit instructions not to return home and disrupt or embarrass the family.  They quickly end up hopeless junkies with a short shelf life.  

And yes, we talked about my health and medical history.  She went down the usual list:  

Family history of diabetes?  Nope.  Serious medical conditions in the past?  Nothing – just a badly dislocated shoulder 10 years ago.  Do you smoke?  No.  Have you ever smoked?  Not cigarettes.  How often do you drink?  As often as I can.

And then came the kicker, a question I never in a million years would expect from an esteemed Australian PHD who looked like a spunkier Angela Lansbury in Murder She Wrote; 

“You been banging any strange?”  

She said it so matter-of–factly I almost fell off my chair laughing.  Now THIS was real down-to-earth patient care!  I appreciated her candor and no-nonsense approach, but after posing the funny question, we had a serious talk about health, which I appreciated even more.  And no, I’m not telling you the answer to that question.  Buy the book when it comes out.

All of the nuts and bolts completed, she took a look at the bump on my back.  It was nothing at all, and she poked and prodded at it a little and then gave me a Band-Aid.  While I was there I figured I might as well get a complete physical, so she did the whole run down, from balancing the tires to changing the oil to checking under the hood.  They even took blood to check cholesterol counts and run a bunch of standard tests.  She also prescribed medicated eye drops because my eyes suffer from allergies, but handed them to me across the desk instead of me having to go to a pharmacy to fill the scrip.

When we were done, she jotted some numbers on a bill form and handed it to the gal at the front desk.  After an amicable goodbye with Doctor Awesome, herself, it was time to pay the bill.  I took out my credit card from my wallet but saw a sign that they don’t accept credit cards.  Shit.  There was no way I’d have enough money – how embarrassing.  But then I looked at the bill.

It came to $87.80. 

That included about an hour of personal time with the doctor, medicated eye drops, a physical, messing with the bump on my back, and a gambit of tests.  If I’d just had the doctors visit without the lab work, it would have been $20.  That’s $20 I said, or only $17 more than the cost of the tuk tuk ride to and from the clinic.  The medication was only $4 and change.  The big cost was sending out the blood work, $60, but without that, it would have been so cheap it was crazy.

I was lucky to have a crisp hundred-dollar bill on me (because that’s how I roll,) and paid, thanked them profusely, and went outside to go get a fresh coconut instead of cookies and orange juice.  

Tomorrow, I’m going to the dentist.  I have a filling that needs to be fixed and I suspect require a crown.  I hear you can get a great international dentist to do all that for about $150.  The same procedure would cost what?  $1,000 in the United States?  

At these costs, I can’t afford NOT to get medical care.   

-Norm   :-)

Post Script: 

I did go to the dentist the next day (today.)  A thorough cleaning and x-rays cost me a grand total of $20.  I have an appointment to get that crown done.  I had options of quality of materials and technology from $120 to $350, and they can schedule me immediately.  To put that in perspective, instead of getting the same procedure in the U.S., I could spend the money to fly to Cambodia (or Costa Rica, Brazil, Thailand, etc.) and fund my whole two-week vacation AND get the dental work done!  

555
The number 5 is pronounced “ha” in Thai, so 555 became the code for laughter in text messages and social media posts.

$2 bill.
Great luck in some Asian cultures so most tuk tuk drivers would rather take a U.S. $2 bill than $5 in their own local currency.  I know one guy who packs his luggage with about $4,000 in crisp $2 bills when he flies over here.   

888.
The number 8 is good luck in certain Asian cultures, so you’ll see bars, stores, or restaurants with that number on the signs.

Farang.
The Thai word for foreigner, also used in Cambodia and other countries.  Prices for goods and services are artificially inflated 50%-1,000% for Farangs.  It’s also a word to describe a nice western-style establishment, like a Farang bar or mall or gym.

Up to you.
A favorite sales tactic is to say, “Up to you,” when negotiating with a tourist or traveler, putting the onus on them.  Of course, if the tourist comes up with a ridiculous number (I usually start by offering $0, insulting everyone,) then they refuse and renegotiate, anyway, but usually the tourist ends up overpaying out of guilt.  

Do you want to play Connect Four?
Do you want to get humiliated and lose 15 games in a row?

Jow!
The Khmer word for thief.

Klang
The Thai word for strong.

Yes.
Can mean maybe, no, not a chance in hell, or in very rare circumstances, yes.

I make special deal good price for you my friend.
You’re about to get ripped off.

From the moon.
If you ask someone where they’re from, they might say “From the moon,” if they’re feeling cheeky.  If they’re feeling extra cheeky, they may say “From the sun,” or even, “From my momma.”

Happy Pizza.
A pizza with marijuana or psychedelic mushrooms as a topping.  These are common in in many places in Southeast Asia and operate right out in the open.  There are no warning labels, explanations, or disclosures on the strength or even what’s making the pizza so happy.  By the way, I don’t recommend ordering a happy pizza when you’re really hungry and wolfing down ¾ of it yourself and tripping for 36 hours straight.  Not fun.  

The Bamboo Pipeline.
This is the thick web of gossip and rumors that spreads to every inch of the country, at all times, particularly among ultra-jealous Asian women.  The internet may not work, the government may be shut down for weeks, and you may be in a remote corner of the provinces, but the Bamboo Pipeline will report back who you were hanging out with and what you were doing with 100% accuracy.  The Bamboo Pipeline could locate that Malaysian plane better than any black box!  

Tuk Tuk.
The main form of taxis and transportation for travelers in SE Asia.  Tuk tuks can take many forms, like jeepneys or motorcycle sidecars in the Philippines, to moto rickshaws with wooden benches and roofs.  It’s usually only a couple bucks to get a tuk tuk ride all the way across town, but the prices go up steeply at night or the more you appear stranded. 

Po.
In the Philippines, you add, “Po,” when addressing an elder, sometimes accompanied by taking their hand and placing it on your bowed forehead as a sign of respect.  

You want shoot bazooka?
No, really – In Cambodia you can bazooka a cow for only $150.  I keep asking if you can collect the scraps of meat to make hamburger, but no one gives me a straight answer.  

Bong.
The slang name for big brother or friend in Khmer.

Ting Tong/Lop Lop.
The term for crazy in Thai and Khmer, which is a scathing insult that’s thrown around at the top of your lungs to everyone around you when you’re out drinking.  If someone is really crazy, they’re Ting Tong Mak Mak!    

Wat Overload Syndrome.
The psychological aversion to old religious sites, developed after seeing 8,001 temples (Wats) in SE Asia.   

Chicken bus.
The bus that local people take, which usually means small seats, no air conditioning, cigarette smoke, music or DVD’s blaring at ear-splitting volume, the smell of sweat and Durian fruit, vomiting babies, barking dogs, stopping every 10 feet to let someone on or off, and maybe a live chicken or 12.    


The camps.
The refugee camps.  Southeast Asia has a modern history filled with displaced people due to wars, many of who lived for long periods of time or even grew up in the camps, especially along the Thai border.

I see you when you see me. 
Who am I to argue with that logic?

Jackpot.
A dice game played in many bars.  Unlike Connect Four, you have a snowball’s chance in hell of winning at Jackpot because it’s all based on luck.  However, the odds are still stacked against you because if you lose, you’ll be expected to buy drinks, but if you win…crickets. 

You drink/eat this, you have happy wife!
For some strange reason, just about every local exotic food is rumored to be an aphrodisiac and good for the male member, usually highly recommended to you by the older generation.  So as they put a shot of snake wine or fried scorpions in your hands, they’ll tell you, “Eat this and you have happy wife!”

Jaba.
Jaba is the slang term for a nasty form of methamphetamine, also called Ice, which, unfortunately, is very prevalent among young and poor people in SE Asia.

Butterfly,
If a local girl calls you this, it means you’re a flirt or womanizer who flutters from girl to girl, not committing to one.  Of course, there’s no such thing as a female butterfly!    

Helicopter.
If you’re a butterfly who moves fast and stays in town longer than a week, you might be called a helicopter.

Farang or western name.
As Asian people assimilate with the western world, whether through tourism or making friends, they need to translate their names to English.  That’s almost impossible (and unpronounceable) for most tourists, so they usually just adopt a made up English name.  You hear the most hilarious names, like, Happygirl, Lovelygirl, Ivy, Flower, Sugar, Apple, Chip Chip, Sweetie, Angel, Cheaty, Smart, Bossman, or the best names of all time, my friends Keep Calm and Keep Hope and her brother, Keep Going.

Lady boy.
Southeast Asia is the epicenter for transsexuals, cross dressers, and “Third sex,” individuals.  A lot of the lady boys just look like beautiful women and are indiscernible.  Of course this creates a tempest of confusion and insanely awkward situations for the unsuspecting, drunk tourists.  Before you get in a relationship with someone and get duped by a lady boy, it’s acceptable to ask,"Do you have a banana or a mango?” just to clarify.   

Krup and Kaa.
The Thai language includes little added words when a man is talking, pronounced “Krup” and for a women, “Kaaa.”  The use of this is so prevalent that you’ll hear a ‘kaaaa’ seemingly after every sentence, which is ridiculously charming.  

Street food.
This doesn’t mean you eat off the street, but on almost every corner little outdoor mobile restaurants pop up, especially at night.  They’ll set up aluminum tables and small stools or chairs and start cooking from carts or even pots over wood fires right there on the street.  In some places, like Vietnam, you get the most amazing food for only $1 or $2 and henceforth cease stepping foot into a restaurant again.  The atmosphere is usually festive with strangers sharing tables and drinking cheap beer and eating well into the night and early mornings.  Of course you have to be careful about sanitation and where and what you eat, but in Vietnam and Thailand, especially, the food is usually always clean and safe and AMAZING!

Holiday.
With so many Brits and Aussies traveling about, it’s inevitable that the traveler lexicon adopts some of their best.  Holiday sounds so much nicer than vacation.

Que.
Another Brit adopted word.  You’re not in line, you’re in que.  Or, if you’re in Asia, you’re jumping into a mosh pit of disorder every time there should be a que.

You lie you die!
Accusing someone of lying is a full contact sport in SE Asia.  

Jack and cock.
Jack and coke, pronounced with a SE Asian accent.  I still don’t know if they say this on purpose to mess with us Farang or not.   

Phuc you!
Fuck you, only pronounced with a Vietnamese accent, which makes it sound so much nicer.

English Breakfast.
An overpriced meal consisting of eggs, sausage, mystery meat bacon, cooked tomatoes, and a soggy pile of baked beans.

American Breakfast.
The exact same thing, without the soggy pile of baked beans.

Durian fruit.
This fruit emits a horrible odor that’s alarmingly pungent.  They say it smells like hell but tastes like heaven, so much so that there are warning signs prohibiting Durian fruit from elevators, hotels, and some buses.  It has several names, one of which is a crude reference to an intimate part of the female anatomy.  Let’s move on.

Boom Boom.
Amorous activities between two loving, healthy, monogamous and deeply committed adults.  

Massage - G.
This is pronounced “Massage-G” for some reason, and can consist of a girl in a bar viscously elbowing you in the back for 11 minutes before asking for a tip, a great real massage for about $5 an hour, or a thinly-veiled advertisement the afore-mentioned Boom Boom. 

NGO.
Non-Governmental Organization.  Many countries, like Cambodia and Laos, rely heavily on foreign aid as well as charitable organizations, or NGO’s.  There are hundreds of them, employing thousands of foreigners and collecting millions of dollars.  A couple of them might even help some local people from time to time!  

The provinces.
In some SE Asian countries, you’re either from the big city or from the boonies, or the provinces, consisting of isolated rural rice farming communities.  Even an hour outside of the main cities can look like a different world.  People always talk about going back to the provinces to visit family or for holidays and festivities.

No money no honey.
This common saying can mean that a woman will only grace a guy with her company if she’s compensated, might refer to the axiom that nothing is free in life, or is just a saying for douchey tourists to wear on their tank tops.

Same same but different.
This means exactly what it says, which at first may seem nonsensical.  But if you were to climb the highest peak in Nepal and live alone in a cave for 10 years doing nothing but meditating and contemplating this phrase, you’d come out with a new enlightenment that this is the most profound thing ever said.  

No chicken no curry.
Same same as “No money no honey.”

No Peso no say-so.
Same same as “No chicken no curry,” but in the Philippines.  
Skype.
An online medium used to hustle money from 5 unsuspecting Australian boyfriends at the same time.

Police.
A government-funded organization of men who all wear the same snappy uniform, collect bribes, extort money from motorists, beat up defenseless protestors, and sit idly by when a real crime is taking place right in front of them.

She’s my sister.
It could mean she’s a cousin, a biological sister, a half sister, someone she works with, a friend, or someone she just met.  But probably not her biological sister. 

It’s my birthday.
No, it’s probably not.  In fact, a lot of older people in Southeast Asia don’t even know when their actual birth day is.  That’s because of a traditional practice called Age Reckoning, where they consider themselves one year older after the New Year (around April in most countries,) not the actual day they were born.  That way, the whole country turns one year older on the same day.  Of course younger people recognize their actual birthday by western standards, too.    Also, SE Asian people are born at 1 and turn 2 on their first birthday, while western people are born at 0 and turn 1.  Interesting, huh?

Bar snacks.
Roasted and candied insects like beetles, roaches, and crickets, or barbecued snake or tarantula.  Or, sometimes they serve you a really gross bowl of salted peanuts.  Yuck! 

Oh my Buddha!
Instead of “Oh my God,” they take out the western, Christian deity and insert their own head honcho. 

I’m available but I’m not free.
If you ask a local if they are free to do something that day, they’ll remind you jokingly that they may be available, but they’re definitely not free!  

I kill you!
This can either mean they love you deeply or that they actually want to kill you.

2 pm.
It could mean 2:45 pm, or maybe 4:10 pm, but probably some time that same day.  

Farang spicy.
Southeast Asia is known for its incredibly spicy food, but there are two scales  - Farang, or spicy for westerners, and then spicy for the locals.  Making the distinction to your waiter could make the difference between a tasty meal and feeling like you just swallowed a flame thrower.   

Bola Bola.
The Tagalog term for bullshit in the Philippines.

Dressing up.  
Putting on real shorts (not swim shorts,) and a t-shirt instead of a tank top.  But flip-flops are still perfectly ok.

***

-Norm   :-)