6 posts tagged “cambodia”

The biggest excitement of late is that I finally broke down and got a new computer. It was way past time, and doing anything-- anything, including turning it on-- had become a nightmare on the old one. The new one is muuuuuuch faster, and has more storage space, but moving computers it almost as traumatic as moving house... I can't get the contents of my iTunes to move over except for the things that I'd burned from CDs. I can't afford to buy a computer and upgrade to CS3, so I'm still working with Photoshop two versions ago, which is now refusing to open RAW files. I've downloaded the plug in. Twice. No luck. I can't get my website pages to open up in the application I'd been using to make and modify it, and I have things to add to it. And I don't like Vista. All of which is knocking the excitement of a new machine down about fifty notches.

I was on travel for work this week, which isn't so bad, except that I had to go out to the Eastern Shore (also not so bad-- though, am I wrong in thinking that name redundant? Does VA had a Western shore?), which required driving through Norfolk and VA Beach. Which ended up being a six hour traffic back up odyssey. It took almost three hours to go three miles and made me very glad that we don't live in Norfolk.

Eastern Shore was neat. The work part went fine, and I got up early one morning in search of a place to take a jog on the beach, failed miserably at that, and shot some pictures instead. Sadly, the trip ended with a four hour, traffic-laden return. On the upside, while I was gone a few seeds in an herb container I'd planted sprouted. Yeay! Not that this makes up for having lost my entire herb garden in the deluge last weekend, but it's good none the less.

In the meantime, I got an email from a friend at old job, two jobs back, who said my dissertation had arrived. Pardon? I had no idea what he was talking about. He sent them on to me, and while they were en route, I remembered that when I'd initially completed, had signed off, and submitted my diss manuscript to the library at erstwhile uni, there had been a form where you could request (at an outrageous price for what it is) photocopies of your dissertation from UMI, which is the org that does all the copying and microfiching/microfilming of dissertations in the U.S., if you wanted extra copies. I ordered three-- one for my parents, one for my beloved adviser/second committee member, Prof. DKW, and one for my third committee member. They arrived from two jobs ago old job the other day:

And yeah. It has been two and a half years. It has been so long that dear Prof. DKW has passed away since I ordered the frigging things (making me feel sad that he may have thought I'd forgotten him). His widow was deaccessioning his library (which was enormous and amazing), as was he in the last bit of his life, so there is nowhere to send the thing. It's been so long that it's kind of uncomfortable sending it to third committee member-- sort of highlighting that we haven't spoken since the paperwork was finally signed, as well as the oogie-ness of getting all of it done, which was not an easy process, even by doctoral dissertation insanity norms. Obviously, my parents will get their copy. But two and a half years? jeeeeeeez. And I opened it up to find that it is not the print out with nice pictures that the copy I got from my Uni library is-- it's a photocopy. No, really, a photocopy. Two and a half yeas for a photocopy? It's bound in hideous plastic covered cardboard in a shade of blue I can only think if institutional elementary school bathroom tile. Perhaps UMI stands for Unbelievably, Mindbogglingly, Inefficient.

Other than that, I read this article, and was depressed and sad, missing my erstwhile home in PP, and just disgusted to see the way these things fall out....

After all these years (including the years of trips to Bangkok on the diplomatic passport) I really thought that Ieng Sary would pass away peacefully without ever hearing the other shoe drop. (See: earlier post). Oh me of little faith. Granted, arrest and conviction are two entirely different animals. Who knows what the final weigh in on the royal pardon will be, though one hopes that his long standing claims of ignorance and lack of power will be shouted down once and for all.

The only mime whose name you know, Marcel Marceau, has died. While I send my condolences to his friends and family, I must dance a jig of relief, as I have a bit of a mime-phobia. They are like infuriating and sneaky clowns (which I also have a thing about). Can we now, collectively, as a species, put miming to rest? Can we please bury those striped shirts, white gloves, and the white face paint? (P may disagree as Marceau is apparently the inspiration for the moonwalk, and giving moonwalk clinics is a specialty of his).

When I was living in Cambodia (and probably continuing on since then), one of the more popular t-shirts for tourists was a reprint of the minefield warning signs that used to be everywhere

(and have been lessening in number for many years due to the diligent work of a group of organizations, a beautiful thing). I have one somewhere (though I can't seem to find it at the moment. Mine was pink).

A friend in Phnom Penh had a bunch of t-shirts made up (mine is likely packed up wherever the mine one is. I used to wear them, interchangeably, to the gym, so that I could work out next to the Nak Tom Tom drug lords. But that's a whole other story) using that sign/t-shirt as a guide. Only instead of the skull and crossbones there was a cartoon face, with beret, and floating gloved hands next to his head (a la trapped in a glass box) of a mime that was surely based on Marcel Marceau. Above in Khmer and beneath in English it said: Danger!! Mimes!! Happily for Cambodia, the French never exported Marceau and miming to Cambodia when it was part of la plus grande France, and as a result the shirts left Cambodians baffled. (As a sidenote, since mimes never made it to Cambodia I think it said something like Danger!! Actors!! in Khmer, and even it it had been possible to translate the concept clearly, the mine/mime semblance would have been lost anyway). The Westerners, however, thought it was hilarious.

Update: This post made the Express! (warning: takes a year to download). On page 36. Unfortunately, they added commas around the "like" in the opening sentence, making me sound like I'm sixteen and negating the simile construction. (No, really, I meant that they were LIKE infuriating and sneaky clowns. As in similar). But nice to see m'blog in print :)

denied? I was surprised to read that Nuon Chea has been arrested. There was so much focus and discussion of the possibility of a tribunal while I was living in Cambodia-- it was an ubiquitous aural backdrop-- though many of the men and women who might make the list seemed to be defying the possibility of being brought to court by dying of old age in the meantime (or maybe of other things, as is often proported for Brother Number One himself, though he did live to be a ripe old age in any case). Nuon Chea. Hmmm. And Duch in custody for quite a while now (happy with himself, having confessed to Jesus, apparently). Who might be next? I recall bets on when Ieng Sary might be brought in, pardon and all.

Update: Oh no, I never noticed a thing!. Not even when my own close friends and allies disappeared forever after being told to take a trip to the country by Brother Number One. "He added that as a member of the regime's legislature he had never adopted any law allowing citizens to be killed and that he had "personally lost around 40 family members during the events of the time."" Listen, Nuon, it kind of undermines your claim to know nothing when you then say that you lost forty family members. See, forty is a lot. Something you might notice. 

There's an interesting article in the NY Times about women in Thai kickboxing. It's interesting for a lot of reasons, in particular because the kickboxing ring has traditionally been seen as male ritual space, with women being banned from it because of their potential (particularly during menstruation) for messing with the manly juju.

When I was living in Cambodia (something I've been thinking about a lot lately.... I miss it), I used to go to the kickboxing matches in Phnom Penh almost every weekend. The ones on Sunday at the Women's and Veterans' ministry arena (don't ask) were the best,

though I also enjoyed the occasional Saturday bout at the TV station. (Though not when the had the little guys-- seven year olds going at it "just for joking," though they were doing each other damage).

I got a press pass at one point, so that I could take pictures, and while the TV station really didn't care where I was (I crawled all up on the edges of the ring, my press pass flying), I was sent down off the edge of the ring during the Sunday matches, press pass or no, because I was of the wrong sex. All the male photojournalists were up on the edge of the ring, but I was only allowed on the floor around the ring, as I might have sent the juju all into a tizzy. It should be noted that the TV ring also had round girls in miniskirts who walked around the ring with numerals on cards to let you know what round it was. No such thing happened on the Sunday bouts.

I was also interested in the article because I trained, ever so briefly, at a camp in Chiang Mai. I got my butt kicked. A lot. Pretty much all the time, in fact.

I found an email I sent to my mother in February of 2001 when I was living in Danang, Vietnam, and, having already spent a Tet (Vietnamese New Year) or two in Vietnam decided I could. not. bear. to eat one more bloody banh trung, and headed to Cambodia with my friend Ken. Ultimately my plans for research in Vietnam imploded and I ended up spending thirteen months living in Phnom Penh and writing a dissertation on Cambodia instead of Vietnam. But I didn't know that at the time, the first time I'd actually made it to Cambodia (I'd planned a trip there for Tet of 1996, but visa/employment issues had put the kibash on that plan). It's weird reading this email now, years later... knowing I've driven that road on a motorcycle almost a dozen times since then. It makes me suddenly appreciative of the luxuries of paved roads and potable tap water... and leaves me missing my life there at the same time.

Hi Mom,
I made it into Phnom Penh last night- though it was
a pretty uncomfortable 14 hours to get from Saigon here.
The road on the Vietnamese side is not bad at all,
but the road on the Cambodian side- Whoooooo, doggie,
that sucker needs some work. Besides the road, the
boarder crossing took FOREVER for everyone on the bus to
make it through. On the Vietnamese side there was a
Chinese (extended) family, and two of the members with
PRC passports were distinctly lacking in Cambodian
visas, which the Vietnamese boarder official continued to
say, despite all offers of compensation, that he was
unable to issue. They were, of course, ahead of us.
Egads. But we did make it in, and managed to find a
 new guesthouse that is both cheap and clean (and
air-conditioned- it's January and the sun is pounding
down and it's about 90 degrees out). I think we're
going to go to some small temples close to Phnom
Penh tomorrow, and probably head up to Siem Reap to go to
Angkor the day after.

Love, Jenn