A couple of weeks ago, I wrote a blog with the FUNNIEST sh*t you'll see in Southeast Asia and shared it with you. The response was so great that I decided to follow up with a new two-part blog with the CRAZIEST sh*t you'll see in Southeast Asia!

From Cambodia to Laos, Vietnam to Myanmar, and Thailand to the Philippines, there's definitely NO place on earth that will make you sure in amazement and scratch your head like in Southeast Asia, where the wild, hilarious, and downright bizarre are a daily occurrence. 

So enjoy, and look for part 2 of this blog coming soon! 

If you want to read more about life in Southeast Asia, read my new book, The Queens of Dragon Town.

-Norm   :-)

​This is Chan Rathana, my boxing and marital arts teacher here in Cambodia. He just did something that takes a whole lot of guts – stepping into the octagon to fight another man in a MMA bout - and ended up with the glory. Only 36 hours before this photo was taken, Rathana did battle with fellow Cambodian countrymen Samang “Ironfist” Dun, beating him when he landed a couple of sizzling punches at the very end of the first round.
 
That was on Saturday night, in front of thousands at a very well organized and run One FC sanctioned MMA match at Naga World in Phnom Penh, the capital city of Cambodia. On Monday when I took this photo, Rathana was already back to work, training foreign and Khmer beginners at his art, a little more subdued than normal and with a nice bruise on his check but no worse for wear. With a work ethic like that, it’s no wonder why we won.

​Rathana is the owner and teacher at Selapak, a cultural center in the heart of Phnom Penh. Next door to Selapak is a rowdy Irish bar that often spills over, downstairs a space to teach traditional Khmer dance, and upstairs, the gym. It’s ridiculously small by western standards, really the long, narrow upstairs room of an apartment with a high ceiling; two heavy bags swinging, a shoebox ring where you are always in kicking distance of your opponent, and a big mirror along one side of the matts, which have sporadic hidden trapdoors where it is only bar concrete and an occasional metal anchor where you can catch your foot if you’re not careful. There is no AC in the stifling heat, a couple of ceiling fans whirling and the back door of the apartment – I mean, gym – opening up to a tiny balcony.
 
Selapak sees a steady stream of people training in Khun Khmer, or traditional Cambodian kick boxing, every evening at 6 and then 7 pm; Britts, Italians, a ton of Frenchmen (who add their own distinct cultural scent to the mix,) and a few young Cambodians looking to impress Rathana.

​I started training here (and I use the word ‘training’ loosely) a couple of years ago when I lived in a rat hole apartment across the street. Since then, I’ve moved to nicer quarters, and even trained privately with a different instructor for all of last year, but even then, I had no idea he was a professional fighter in the international ranks.
 
His fight this past Saturday was a chance to avenge his only professional loss, a controversial decision given to Ironfist a year ago after Rathana stomped on his face. (Really, I didn’t know that kind of thing was discouraged?) My buddy Wicced who works for the Phnom Penh Post got us tickets, and when I showed up I had no idea Rathana was the main event. 

​To be honest, I had my doubts when the fight started as it looked like there was a lot more downstairs traditional dancing than upstairs fighting, but soon the fighters engaged with flurries of punches, lightning kicks, and grappling. Near the end of the first, Rathana found himself standing over Iron Fist, who threw a cobra-like straight kick at Rathana’s face from his prone position. The kick just barely and Rathana coiled, unloading a haymaker that traveled from his shoulder all the way down to Iron Fist’s head on the mat. He threw a couple other jarring shots before the ref jumped in to stop it.

​Rathana now has an impressive 4-1 record in the professional One FC ranks with wins abroad in Thailand and Malaysia, and listed on Sherdog. Bigger opportunities are sure to come. He may not be sitting on top of the world just yet, but he’s sure the pride of his family, his country, Selapak, and his little neighborhood gym where it all started.

​So when I brought in my Fuji instant camera and asked my friend Rathana to pose with his championship One FC trophies, these weird black brick looking things) he gladly obliged. But when I gave him the photo as a memento of his victory and asked him to hold it up, my voice still hoarse from cheering, he stood even taller.

-Norm  :-)

This is part of a series where I take approach a common but remarkable person in Cambodia and ask if I can take their photo. I do so but with a Fujifilm instant camera, so the photograph pops out and develops right on the spot. I then had them the photo, sometimes the only one they've ever owned. I then capture the moment by taking a digital photo of them holding their new gift.
 
You can search for more of these blogs by clicking on the 'Give A Photo' category to the right, or read more here: Can I Give You This Photo, Please? 

1. It's ecologically friendly.
Costa Rica is considered one of the most ecologically conscious countries in the world, instituting a goal to be carbon neutral way back in 1997 – and coming close these days. In fact, Costa Rica is ranked no. 5 in the world on the Environmental Performance Index, the best country outside Europe. It’s probably also the no. 1 eco-tourism destination in the world.

2. It has the oldest constitution in Central America.
Costa Rica is the longest-standing democracy in Central America, thanks to their national constitution, drafted in 1949. The governing document affords many rights and protections to its citizens, allowing Costa Rica to enjoy stable and peaceful growth. Costa Rica consistently ranks the highest of any Latin Nation on the Human Development Index and United Nations Development Programme.

3. It's a country with no army.
With their progressive constitution in 1949, Costa Rica decided to ban any armed forces, making it one of only a handful of countries in the world without an army, still to this day.

4. A great education system.
By investing in education instead of funding an army, Costa Rica now boasts a 96% literacy rate, the highest in Latin America.  Their commitment to education has allowed them to attract good skilled jobs and boost income for their citizens.

5. Unmatched natural beauty.
Costa Rica has not one but two gorgeous coastlines with more than 800 miles of shoreline and tropical beaches, on the Pacific and also the Caribbean side of the country.

6. The most diverse wildlife on the planet.
There are over 130 species of fish, 220 of reptiles, 1,000 butterflies, 9,000 plants, 20,000 species of spiders and 34,000 species of insects in Costa Rica, which represents 5% of the world’s biodiversity even though it is just about .03% of the earth’s total landmass. Costa Rica is also known for its sloths and turtles and they can be seen in protected habitats and beaches. But if you’re more of a monkey, lizard, or exotic bird lover, Costa Rica will be your favorite place! In fact, the country became the first place in the Americas to ban recreational hunting.

7. Adventure sports galore.
Zip lining, sky diving, jumping off waterfalls, repelling, exploring caves, horseback riding, 4x4 runs, jet skiing, and just about every other adventure sport you could imagine are all on the menu in Costa Rica.

8. Volcanoes!
The landmass of present day Costa Rica is the result of volcanic eruptions 75 million years ago – and still are active today. In fact, Costa Rica still has five listed active volcanoes and more than 200 volcanic formations. The most famous of these is Arenal Volcano an easy day trip from San Jose. It last erupted in 1968, but you can still enjoy the hot springs at its base.

9. Protected nature reserves.
Costa Rica is on the forefront of environmental conservation, long ago protecting about 25% of their country as national parks. Manuel Antonio National Park on the west coast is the most famous, but Tortuguero National Park and La Amistad International Park are amazing, too.
10. Top surfing.
Costa Rica is ranked as one of the three best surfing destinations in the world, home to year round warm water and unique microclimate that bring consistent offshore winds. Big competitions like the Billabong World Surfing Games are often hosted by Costa Rica, but even beginners can wax up their boards and catch some waves.

11. Their “Pura Vida” attitude
A common saying among locals is “Pura Vida” which means “pure life.” Everywhere you go in Costa Rica you will be welcomed with a smile by the locals, and they will truly make you feel at home in their country.

12. It’s so close to the U.S. and Canada.
One of the best things about Costa Rica is its close proximity to the United States and Canada. San Jose is only a 2-hour flight from Miami and 3 ½ hours from New York, and there are more nonstop and cheap, direct flights all the time.

13. The happiest country on earth.
The World Database of Happiness ranks Costa Rica as the #1 happiest nation on earth out of 148 countries. (The United States ranks no. 20, by the way.)

14. Gender equality.
According to the World Economic Forum, Costa Rica ranks higher than even the United States in the gender gap index. The female population is educated, enjoys advanced healthcare, voting, and employment equality. In fact, Costa Rica even had a female president recently.

15. Superb coffee and chocolate.
Thanks to their mountain terrain and tropical weather, Costa Rica is known as producing some of the best coffee and chocolate in the world. Those just happen to be two of our favorite things!

16. A world class healthcare system.
Costa Rica has a modern and highly rated healthcare system, even more highly ranked than the United States. Costa Rican citizens enjoy universal healthcare insurance and have a life expectancy of 77 years, one of the highest in the world.

17. Modern and improving Infrastructure.
Costa Rica has gone to great lengths to modernize and improve their infrastructure in the past decades, so there are efficient international airports, paved highways connecting the country, and modern amenities in the capital of San Jose as well as any popular touristy area.

18. Diving and marine life.
Costa Rica has some of the best diving, snorkeling, and accessible marine life in the world, such as such the Cocos Island National Park, also a World Heritage Site and the Gandoca-Manzanillo Wildlife Refugee. In fact, Costa Rica’s oceans are home to at least 6,777 species, which is 3.5% of the known species in the planet!

19. Bull fights…that are safe for the bulls.
Bullfights are a Costa Rican tradition, at every small village festival and the grand events in San Jose. But unlike the bullfights in Spain and other areas, the bulls are never harmed in Costa Rica…though they do dish out some serious damage to whoever is brave enough to jump in the ring with them.
​
20. Costa Rica welcomes expats.
People from all over the world choose to move down to Costa Rica and make it their new home. Retirees, surfers, young families, and those who just desire the simple, beachside life move there every year by the thousands – and Costa Ricans general welcome them with open arms.
​
***
Check out South of Normal, the Amazon best-selling cult classic book about an expat's bizarre, outrageous, and beautiful experience moving to Costa Rica. 

Last week in the Philippines, I was talking to a local friend over dinner. We got to talking about our families, and she told me this touching story about her childhood: 

“I grew up very fortunate, living in the countryside in the province. Our village was right on the side of a mountain and my dad was a miner so we did well. He made enough money that my mom could open up a little store and we had plenty to eat.

But others in the village were very poor. They’d come to my mom’s store and ask for a bag of rice or some medicine for their children, but they wouldn’t have enough money to pay.

“Please, I will pay you tomorrow,” they’d say, and she’d give it to them, even though she knew they couldn’t pay tomorrow, either. But she carried medicine at the store even though she made no money on it, and ay sundown when she heard the babies and children in the village crying from hunger, she’d always give out some rice. I had everything as a little girl, plenty of food and clothes and gold necklaces, and never had to be sent to the mountain to work like the other kids.

But when I was eight years old, things went bad when my father met another woman in our village. She was older than him and very rich, with many houses and gold since she owned the mine. They started having an affair, and soon my father left my mother. My mother was crushed, but I was too young to understand that my father wasn’t coming home anymore. I grew very sick with a broken heart.

My mother had no more money from his mining job. The store didn’t bring in much because she gave food to those who were hungry and medicine to those who were sick, even thought they could not pay. I grew even sicker and I stopped eating. I only wanted to see my daddy. For months, I didn’t eat anything but liquids and I grew so thin that even the doctors thought I would soon die. My mother tried to take me to more doctors and buy me medicine, but she had no money. And there was no medicine for my broken heart. My mother sold everything in the store and then the store itself and started selling our furniture just to keep our house and enough food. But I did not eat. I only watched the window every day, lying on my bamboo matt on the floor because I was too weak and sick to even sit up, waiting for my father to come home. There was nothing more my mother could do because I refused to ear, and she was heartbroken, herself.

The rich older woman was in love with my father, and wanted him to come to the big city. She had a beautiful house there where they could live with servants and always be comfortable and he would never have to work again. He agreed, and they took their things and went to the bus station to travel to the city.

But once they got there, he couldn’t stop thinking of his children and his family. Their bus was leaving soon so he told the rich woman that he had to go to the bathroom. He left her side and all of his suitcases but instead of going to the bathroom, he went to the ticket counter and bought a ticket for the next bus back toward our village. He never went back to her, but got on the bus and left.

I was so sick that there was nothing anyone could do and my mother was waiting for me to die, but I wouldn’t eat. I had such a bad fever sometimes that I would say crazy things and see things that weren’t there. Sometimes I’d call out to my father. My mother had no choice but to ignore me after a while.

But one afternoon, I thought saw someone walking on the long dirt road that ran into our village from the main road, where the buses ran. I was dizzy with fever but I thought I saw a man walking towards us. I knew I was sick so I thought I must be seeing crazy things again, because it looked like my father. But I watched him walking, and even thought he was still far off, I could tell it was my father.

I cried out to my mother that my father was walking home, but she dismissed me as having feverish dreams once again and went back to doing the wash. I called out again when he was closer, but my mother just swept the floor. Finally, when he was so close that I could see his face and I knew it was actually my father and not a dream, I cried out to my mother again.

My mother turned around and dropped her broom with what she saw. It was him.

He walked up to the home and came inside. He saw that there was no furniture and his daughter was very skinny on the floor. He hugged me first.

“Is everything Ok?” he asked my mother.

“No, everything is not ok,” my mother said. “We have no food or medicine and our daughter is very sick. She hasn’t been able to eat rice or solid food in months. She just drinks. She is going to die and the doctors don’t know what it is.”

He hugged me again, and then hugged my mother. He apologized and she hugged him back and they both cried, because she knew he was home for good and her heart opened up to him again.

“Mommy,” I said. “Can I have some rice? I am hungry.””

My friend told me that she ate well from that day on, and grew healthy again. Her father moved back in and her mother forgave him. He tried to go back to work but he couldn’t work in the mine again, and they didn’t have money to open the store, so they were poor. But the people in the village remembered that the family had been good to them and shared what they had. Things were not easy, but somehow, there was always enough.

Her father and mother never left each other’s side again, and lived the rest of their many years together until he passed away around Christmas, the year before. 

The children filled up the green picnic tables and then made a formation of plastic chairs, since there were only enough tables to fit about half of them at a time. I walked around with the box of burgers and served them, the teenage girls the hungriest, grabbing two burgers each. 

It’s a constant struggle for this orphanage to stay open and provide for the kids, and hamburgers and a few toys do a lot more to make the giver feel good than it makes a real impact in their lives. But as they waved goodbye to us, yelling thank you with big smiles, at least they knew that someone cared.

Walking out to the trike, I stopped and snapped a photo of something that broke my heart. A big bookshelf in the hall served as the toy chest for the entire orphanage up to that point. It contained a dozen or so ratty and dirty stuffed animals, nothing else. If nothing else, at least those shelves will be full now!


- Norm   :-)

P.S. I don’t write these blogs to try and raise funds, because it’s up to you what you do with your money and how and when you give. More than anything, I just love sharing the experiences and the people that have enriched my life. But already a few friends –from both the United States and the Philippines – have made donations to the orphanage, which I really appreciate. But believe me, you don’t want me to sing you a thank you song – we’ll leave that to the kids!

If you’d like to help these kids, please contact them or send any donations to:
Duyan Ni Maria Children’s Home
Administered by Sisters of Mary of the Eucharist
359 Leticia St. Josefa Subdivision, BRGY, Malabanias,
Angeles City, The Philippines.

Or contact me if you’d like me to bring them something personally or help arrange the donation.

A few years back, I was sitting in a casino bar in Manila, watching the Manny Pacquiao fight. Sitting next to me was a big brother from the U.S., so we got to talking. It turns out he just retired from the Navy, where he had been working at the American embassy in Manila for years.
 
As Pacquiao succumbed to Mayweather and our beers disappeared, the Navy man told me an endearing story about a Filipino you’ve certainly heard of.
 
One day, he was working his regular security detail there at the visa office in the embassy.
 
A short, scrappy, and obviously broke Filipino with shoulder-length hair walked into the office and got in the line to apply for a U.S. visa. As we all know, it’s almost impossible to get a visa to the states unless you have a lot of money or a business there sponsoring you, so the man was out of place and doomed for the same fate as Pacquiao that day – the wrong end of a decision.
 
In fact, life had not been kind to him up until then. His mother died when he was a young boy, leaving his father and family with so many debts that he had to send the children away to live with various relatives. The boy soon quit school and went off on his own so he wouldn't be a burden on anyone. In the coming years, he was often homeless, sleeping on park benches and in front of friend's houses. He did odd jobs just to eat once every couple days, and even singing on the street to try and earn a few Pesos, or at the Shakey’s Pizza on Taft Street in Manila when he was 15.
 
When the scrappy Filipino got to the front of the line, the obviously skeptical lady working asked him why he wanted a visa. He told her that a band in America was looking for a new lead singer and was flying him out to San Francisco for an audition. The band’s guitarist had stumbled upon a video of him on YouTube covering one of their songs.
 
In fact, he often sang their songs with his local small-time bar band in the Philippines. He’d been part of many bands over the years that allowed him to earn enough to eat if nothing else, like Ijos, and later, the better-known Zoo Band.
 
There at the embassy, he told the lady in the visa office that the U.S. group was impressed when they’d heard him and seen him on YouTube that they’d sent him an email, and then an invitation to come to America and try out. He produced a tattered print out of an email that supposedly backed up his story.
 
It sounded so far-fetched that the lady scoffed and started reaching for the ‘Rejected' stamp to send him packing, but mockingly asked him that if he was such a good singer, why didn’t he sing one of the band’s songs right then and there? Why didn’t he sing one of her favorites, “Wheel in the Sky?”
 
So the scrappy man put down his things, stepped back, cleared his throat, and belted out:
 
“Winter is here again oh Lord,
Haven't been home in a year or more”
 
Heads turned.
 
“I hope she holds on a little longer
Sent a letter on a long summer day
Made of silver, not of clay
I've been runnin' down this dusty road,”
 
Every single person in the office stopped and listened to the man. You could have heard a pin drop, according to my Navy friend who was working there.
 
“Oh the wheel in the sky keeps on turnin'
I don't know where I'll be tomorrow
Wheel in the sky keeps on turnin'”
 
When he finished his dazzling rendition, everyone there cheered and applauded. The lady working was stunned, too. She immediately grabbed the ‘Approved' stamp and emphatically OK'd his travel visa with no more questions asked.
 
The scrappy singer walked out of the office, past the big Navy officer on duty, smiling. He later got on that plane to San Francisco, met a guy named Neal Schon there, auditioned, and got the job. He was the new lead singer of this iconic American band that was replacing their cherubic-voiced former front man, Steve Perry.
 
Against all odds, Arnel Pineda, became the lead singer of Journey, a band that’s sold 80 million records worldwide and is considered one of the best of all time. They even made a movie about Pineda’s star-struck good fortune, called “Don't Stop Believin’.”
​
-Norm  :-) 

"Hi Norm. I saw your photos and read your blog about helping the children in Cambodia. I know we've never met, but I'd like to send you some money to give to them, too."

You'd be amazed how often I get Facebook messages or emails along those lines. Hell, I'm still amazed every time someone reaches out to me and wants to give. I mean, since my focus the last couple of years has been on trying to make this world just a tiny bit better through my writing, I've received so much support from my friends it's crazy.

I guess "crazy" is a good word for it, for what else could you call sending your hard-earned dollars all the way across the world to come to the aid of people you've never met in countries you'll never set foot in? And many of you have never even met me, the instigator of this whole experience. Sure, I've broken bread (and drank beer) with many of you, but some are friends of friends, have read my books or blogs, or we don't even remember how we first connected, but we've never had the pleasure to say hi face-to-face. For all you know, I could be squandering your money by dining on escargot with champagne every night, staying at resorts that have 1,000,000 thread-count sheets, and purchasing luxurious hair care products...ok, the hair care product part is off the table, but you know what I mean.

Either way, you're trusting ME with your money because you care so much about perfect strangers in need. You have empathy for those you can't see or touch, and that's a rare and beautiful thing. Believe me, I treasure that trust and try to live up to it every day. 

Last week, I posted some photos of a poor hospital I visited here in Phnom Penh, the capital city of Cambodia, where I went with my friend-in-charity Cowboy Bart to help a young woman who was the victim of an acid attack, and others. Tragically, she passed away in the ICU the very next day, but the photos and blog stirred a handful of you to reach out and PayPal some donations over for me to distribute to others in need.

So back at it, Cowboy Bart and I rode a tuk tuk out to the Soviet Friendship Hospital in Phnom Penh on a scorching Friday afternoon. I was armed with a pocket full of $10 and $20 bills to give out to people I found in need, with the help of Siman - our Cambodian tuk tuk driver - acting as translator. 

In desperately poor Cambodia, there is no free healthcare or any sort of governmental social safety net. Hospitals are archaic, ridiculously understaffed, and they lack even many of the basic resources, medicines, and technology even the most humble hospitals in the United States enjoy. I'm sure you can guess who built the Soviet Friendship Hospital, a monstrous boxy compound with open-air buildings around an overgrown grassy area. When someone gets sick and needs to go to the hospital, usually on a very long journey from far-off provinces on the public bus, their family needs to bring them there. Of course they can't afford a hotel while they wait out the treatment of their loved one, so the whole family moves into the hospital with the patient. 

Some of them sleep right outdoors in the bush, hoping for the shade of a palm tree. They cook their food over wood fires and hang their laundry their to dry. Many others share the hospital bed with their loved one, sleep on the floor on bamboo matts or on the bare floor near them, or camp out in the hallways and stairwells, for days, weeks, or even months. If they're lucky, they'll have enough food, though most drink dirty water out of the hose bib and live off of rice and slices of mango. A big 30 lbs. bacg of rice, which costs about $20, can keep a couple people alive for a month if need be. 

But they lit up when we walked in, eyes peeled and big smiles for the unheard of occurrence of a Barang (foreigner) coming into the hospital unless they worked for a nonprofit or were part of a medical mission. Bart and Siman visited with the toddler with eye cancer and talked to his mother. Bart remarked that the boy looked much better and the tumor had shrunk significantly. They gave them some money to help pay for food and the treatments they couldn't afford at the hospital. 

While they chatted, I walked around the room, saying hello and visiting with the other sick children in the room. Of course I couldn't communicate with them other than bowing and saying "sus-day" - hello in the Khmer (Cambodian) language - or "sok-sa-bay" - wishing them good health. But it's amazing how much you can say just with your eyes and smile and a well-timed thumbs-up.

As I met the other patients and their families in the big white room, I called Siman over to translate at times. No one was alone - everyone had family with them. I noticed that they didn't see it as a burden to help their sick loved ones. A daughters massaged her grandmother's back to ease her pain. Mothers fanned the flies away from their sleeping children. An elderly Khmer woman, nearly skeletal in her only outfit of pajamas, mustered unimaginable strength to tend to her dying husband of all these years.

Their custom is to take a photo of someone handing them the gift, so they started to sit up their sick and sleeping loved ones. But I told them to just let them be - it wasn't necessary for me to be in the photos. Let the children and sick and elderly, who could barely open their eyes to see us, sleep in peace.

And they are appreciative. The looks of gratitude on their faces will be with me forever. It wasn't just the money, though I know that completely changed their outlook. But there was another commodity, just as important, that were were sharing that day: hope. They knew someone cared about them. Incredibly wealthy and privileged strangers from a far-off heavenly country took the time to come say hello and help them. I've learned that to acknowledge someone as a human being, with respect and equality in your heart, is the biggest gift you can give. 

Stomach problems, children with cancerous tumors, accident victims, and so many more that were key diagnosed, who waited patiently sleeping in the halls and floors of the hospital waiting for a glimmer of hope. Folding leather stretchers - discarded donations from war times, and tolling medical trays stood sentry among the silent people, a few syringes, vials, and empty pill boxes the scattered evidence that there was little that could be done. 

There were many families and sick people who couldn't get a bed, a room, or even inside the cool hallways of the hospital to stay. They camped outside on the patio, the fiery afternoon sun beating down on them. A ingenious teen girl with a bright smile hung a bedsheets from an IV stand to shield her sister, who had been in a bad motorcycle accident in the province, from the heat. 

On our way out, we wandered through many wards of the hospital: those dedicated to those suffering from malnutrition, diarrhea, the ICU, and finally, a pleasant surprise - the neonatal unit. It was shocking that we could just walk in and there were not even glass barriers or germ-free sanitized environments to protect the premature babies. But their mothers stood watch over them,  loving for their newborns with visions of angelic perfection that only mothers can see. Each mother called us over with a big smile so she could proudly show off her baby.

But I reminded myself that these people had problems before I arrived and would have problems long after I left. And there were billions more I never could reach, even if I worked tirelessly the rest of my life. But these people weren't thinking of it like that. They weren't expecting anyone to solve their problems. The money I had given them - your donations - had made a huge difference for them today. The hungry would eat. They could pay for medicine. A doctor's visit. A needed bus ticket. Get a bed instead of the floor. Or buy a small fan.

It wasn't fixed; it wasn't right; it still didn't make sense; but it was better. Better. That's a good way of thinking of it. You, my friends, had made things better for these people, and that's a hell of a good thing. And if they could speak to you they would say, "Thank you." And you'd feel it even more than you heard it. Trust me on that. 

- Norm   :-)

Of course Jenny and Jenna were there to greet me with big smiles. Jenny, the younger sister, still had that wonderful smile on her face that lit up the world. And Jenna, more serious and stoic, was had grown a head taller and had turned into quite a strong soccer player. Sitha assured me that the girls had fit in and adjusted wonderfully in the year since they’d been placed in the orphanage and I last visited. They were catching up in school slowly but surely after never attending much before, and always were kind to the other children and extremely helpful. In the mornings, when it was a scramble to wake, feed, and ready 37 children for school, Sitha often didn’t have time to eat as well. But Jenna often came up to him with a plate of rice, reminding him to take care of himself and looking out for her new papa. Jenny and Jenna were still thrilled to see me and hugged me warmly but didn’t cling to my shirt, afraid and nervous to let go, like they did when we first brought them there. That was a great sign to see them so happy but also so strong, confident, and independent. 

But despite the odds that are stacked against CIO and the children, Sitha and Mama never give up and never exude anything but positivity. Of course they have 35 little reminders why it’s all worth it, from 3 to 19 years old, with them at all times. The afternoon was cooling so Sitha walked me around and gave me a tour of the compound, like I’d received the previous year. But there were definitely improvements; the school room looked great, the colorful library and study center, complete with a few donated computers, was new, and they even had a spirited Khmer (Cambodian) college student, an orphan herself, living with them and teaching the kids English every day as she continued her own studies. There was even a small 1980s television, but the always-thoughtful Sitha explained that the kids were only allowed one hour of television a week on Saturdays. The boys wanted to watch U.S. wrestling, of course, but the girls wanted cartoons, so cartoons it was.

Little girls helped Mama in the kitchen where she prepared about 100 meals a day outdoors on wood and charcoal fires, a task that got her up at 5:30am and off work well past dark.

The soccer field was in full operation, a new volleyball court marked off in the sand, and the separate building with bathrooms was high class for rural Cambodia. There was a whole room with bicycles so the middle and high schoolers could peddle to the school 10 kilometers away every day, as there was no bus. The elementary school kids had an easy 5-minute walk in their blue uniforms and white shirts. The school day was spilt into morning and afternoon sessions in Cambodia with children attending one or the other, so kids were spilling as Sitha and I talked. Each child as they came home walked up to us, bowed and put their hands to their foreheads as is the custom of respect, and said hello and reported they just returned from school in English. Respect, manners, and discipline are integral to the lessons Sitha teaches them, and English is also vital if they hope to get good jobs above manual labor, like working in a hotel or restaurant with tourists for $150 a month or so if they’re lucky. 

As Mama cooked and Sitha supervised the children coming home, I wandered over to the garden, a new addition in the year I’d been gone. As they were designing the flowerbeds, the children had a cool idea to build it in the shape of CIO – the orphanage’s initials. The water pump was also near the garden, an old-school red metal handle the children took turns working to get water to wash dishes, do laundry, and also bathe. I was saying hi to the kids there when I felt a biting pain in my foot. Then another one, and more on my other foot, ankles and legs. I looked down to see I was standing right in a nest of fire ants. Those little sons-of-ants (I gotta keep the language clean when writing a blog about kids!) hurt like wasp stings. I brushed and kicked and danced until they were off me, the children laughing with hilarity at my painful antics.

When dinner was ready, the children took out metal folding tables and plastic chairs and set them up on the concrete deck under the main pavilion. Some of them set the tables while others poured drinks into little plastic cups or took out metal cafeteria trays. Mama scooped the food onto each tray. There was white rice, green beans with chopped pork, and Lok Lak, a Khmer treat of beef in sauce, tomato and onion, and egg. I realized it was a feast to celebrate my visit; they couldn’t always eat that well, and many people here lack meat in their daily meals. 

Before we dug in, some children were assigned to wave the flies away from the tables. Unfortunately, the orphanage grounds sits near a chicken farm and a crocodile farm if I heard correctly, both attracting swarms of flies that migrate over to their dinner tables. The children sang an adorable song of gratitude and blessings before the meal, which I asked them to repeat so I could video it.

We ate among the sounds of children’s’ laughter, but at the adult table Sitha gave me a sketch on the history and culture of Cambodia. He explained that Siem Reap province, despite being the top tourist destination in the country, was the poorest province in Cambodia (which is saying a lot). In fact, the home to Angkor Watt – one of the wonders of the world and an UNESCO world heritage site – brought in a ton of revenue, but the regular people never saw a penny of it. All of the hotels, bars, and restaurants were owned by rich foreigners or a small number of elite Khmer families and the rights to profit from Angkor Watt had been sold to a Vietnamese tycoon in 2004, in one of the most glaring cases of political corruption for profit I can fathom.

I hugged him and mama, then shook their hands, and then hugged them again. There weren’t words to express enough gratitude for what they were doing for these children.

“You don’t say goodbye, only ‘see you later’” Sitha called out, reminding me of what I wrote about the orphanage in my blog a year earlier.

“Here you go Sitha, this will help,” I said, handing him a stack of crisp $100 bills, enough money to pay the upcoming 3-month lease that was hanging over them. I explained that I wasn’t the generous one; most of it came from donations from sweet, caring friends in the United States who had never even been to Cambodia or seen the kids.

As I left, the children lined up and waved, running behind the tuk tuk. I hoped to visit one more time before I left Cambodia, or maybe it would be another year before I got to see them all again, but I was heartened knowing they were all  safe and happy and in great hands. 

-Norm   :-)


P.S. Drop me an email if you'd like to help the children of C.I.O.