Belgians don't really like waffles

Just writing to let you know that I'll be in a communication blackout for the next two weeks. I managed to get some brief internet time this morning, but I will be out of touch until Oct. 31st. That weekend I'll have internet until Tuesday the 3rd of November. Well, that's a big probably, but in theory I should. I'll go to Kampot again on the 31st and then a bunch of PCVs will be in Kep for the Water Festival/King's Birthday celebration. I'm really looking forward to the trip. Off the coast there are these semi deserted island, called Rabbit Island. We'll head over there on the 1st and spend the night on the island. I'll take lots of pictures and try to finally upload them to the blog.

OK guys, stay classy, I have to bike 14K in the mud to get back to site.

Officially a PCV

Greetings from Kampot, aka the 'Pot'! Right now I'm taking a nice break from the rigors of district life and living it up with internet, running water, and 24 hour electricity. Life is good here in Kampot town. It is just starting to rain so my disposition is starting to improve as I slowly stop sweating. Much has happened since my last posting so I will recap the major events:

1.I passed my language test and am considered 'survivable' in Khmer society

2.I was sworn in as a Peace Corps volunteer by the US ambassador to Cambodia a little over two weeks ago and am now obligated to protect the constitution with my life from all enemies, domestic and foreign

3.Shortly after swear-in I moved to my site in Kampot province

4.Following a tedious week of extreme boredom and literary excess I finally started observing the English teachers at my school

So a few words about Cambodian schools. October 1st was officially the start of the Khmer school year. Some PCVs were flooded out of their schools due to heavy rains, but mine fortunately was not flooded. The night before my 17 year old brother, Reeas, was saying that there would be a 'party' at the school the following day and inquired as to the status of my speech. Puzzled I asked him what he meant, and he clarified saying that all these commune big wigs were going to be present and that I was expected to give closing remarks, in Khmer. Shocked at the short notice, I called one of my counter parts, Sovann, and asked if this was true.

“Oh sorry Ben, I've been meaning to tell you...”

That sucks, so I compose what I can in Khmer and have Sovann help me out with the rest. In my opinion it was quite a nice little speech and concluded with me saying, “even though I am here in the school to teach you English, I am here in Cambodia for all of you to be my teachers, and teach me how to be Khmer.” Imagining the heartfelt handshakes from Ministry officials, a proud beaming smile from the commune governor, and a twinkle of moisture in President Kennedy's eye (may his soul rest in peace, amen) I tucked in my mosquito net and gently fell asleep to the sweet amours sounds, of dogs in heat.

Around 7:30 am the next day, all of the students are standing in their regiments and what appears to be a cirque du soliel tent croweding the center of the school. Shortly after teachers set a table at the front of the tent, facing the assembled students. I sit in the first row of chairs immediately behind the table. At the table the commune chief, the district governor, my school director, the local Ministry of Education Youth and Sports official, and two police chiefs sit and nervously grunt at each other. Finally a white Honda CR-V pulls up with Phnom Penh tags and a tall suit comes running over, hands the district governor a letter and jostles off. Immediately the music ques up and the national anthem is lead by a Khmer student who apparently was classically trained by Milli Vanili's voice coach. My school director said a few words, then the commune chief, followed by the police chiefs. With a few shuffles of papers, the green fatigued district governor courageously stands, blows into the mic, and reads the four page document sent from Phnom Phenh. Fifteen minutes later the governor throws the paper down and dives headfirst into a Hugo Chavez inspired rant, fist pumps and all. Finally he sits and I am told to stand by someone seated behind, “it is time.” Breathing slowly, I purposefully start to walk towards the mic, when the governor stands and concludes the festivities with a brisk wave and an eager trot, stage right. Following suit, everyone else stands and departs by the time I make it to the mic. What a load of crap...

Less productive things PCVs do to pass the time:

–Games of 'telephone' via text message

–Trying to get younger siblings to teach you expletives

–Being amazed that pajamas can and actually are worn as pant suits in this country

–Contemplating what Hillary Clinton would look like at a press briefing wearing a Cambodian pants suit

–Attempting to not get hit by motos

–Counting mosquito bites, realizing our chances of contracting Dengue Fever, feeling the fear of Dengue Fever, then feeling the joy of a possible trip to Thailand for medical leave

–Trying to contract Dengue Fever

OK guys, it's been fun. I have a lot more, but given the slow connection speed this is all for now. In two weeks I'll be back for an extended weekend and will post more, with hopefully pictures.