Scotland Calling

As part of this project I'm helping with I have to call places all over Scotland. It's interesting for sure, and I'm enjoying the research. I'm also enjoying mapping where I'm calling. I thought you might enjoy the map too, as it changes over the next few days:
(Link to a larger version.)
Here's a few of my favo(u)rite place names, have fun trying to pronounce them!
Milngavie
Auchmithie
Islay
Girvan
Cromarty
Cairngorms

Hurricane Bawbag: Meme-tastic

It's, er, been a bit windy in Scotland today. With winds forecast up to 90mph (and the highest recorded gust at 165mph), let's just say it's been fun watching the news roll in all day, as well as the viral videos of trampolines rolling by. The reporting and reactions have been a fun mix of OHMYGODLOOKOUTFALLINGMASONRY and 'Oh, a wee sign fell down in Perthshire' and obligatory news reel of reporters being blown about and reports on 165mph winds. Oh, and pictures of WIND TURBINES BREAKING.

This morning:

I have to say that the general reaction to the storm is pretty funny. It really is almost gleefully adversarial, the attitude the Scots take toward foul weather. Someone tweeted that Glaswegians were calling the high winds "Hurricane Bawbag" and the hashtag took off instantly. STV has done a good job of rounding up the best twitter reactions. A few of my favorites:

BREAKING: #scotstorm is rated as "awfally blowie" on the Wee Wifie scale. The WW scale runs from "huffin" tae "haud oantae ma breeks" :-)

Good news, #hurricanebawbag has been downgraded to Scrotum Storm.

There are many reasons I am proud to be Scottish. #hurricanebawbag - our country's way of saying 'GET IT UP YE' to Mother Nature. Brilliant.

My neighbour Donald's trousers blew away. I didn't know what to say to him. #hurricanebawbag

Hurricane Bawbag Update: A plant pot has fallen over in Airdrie. An eye witness retold the horror "it pure went sideways"

Dear Embra, Here huv aw oor discarded crisp pokes. Yours as ayeways, Glasgow. . . . #HurricaneBawbag

This one I found on my own. Gotta love the expressive face at the end. (From the @ForthRoadBridge):

Wind has dropped a bit but forecast to increase and sudden gusts still likely so bridge has to remain closed :(

This is a great mashup:

Latest forecast from the Beeb:

Good night.

I am drinking tea in Edinburgh Now

SO! After months of a barren wasteland of whistling blog silence (shhhhhhhhhhh), I am in Edinburgh and staying for a bit. The decision process went something kind of like this (I think it's easier if I present it in a timeline):

1. Finish work in Cambodia, travel rural Cambodia, go to Hong Kong, go to SF, go to Scotland.
2. Get email from former professor asking if I can TA a class for her this spring (April-June).
3. Accept job offer that has just fallen out of the sky.
4. Find out ex-boyfriend will be fellow TA. Panic, recover.
5. Go to Spain with friends for 3 weeks.
6. Have an amazing time, but go back to Scotland for last week in Europe.
7. Have even more fun in Scotland, wish not to go home and sit around in NorCal until April.
8. Decide not to get on that plane, and to stay in Edinburgh.

This brings us up to the present moment, and the next step goes something like this:

9. ???

Hooray, Scotland! (Hmm, perhaps I should revive my old blog, Julia Goes to Scotland. Or start a new one: Julia Goes Back to Scotland?)

I just taught a Khmer VJ how to play guitar on TV.

No, really. A few days ago we got a call from MyTV asking us to teach a couple of their VJs music lessons for a spot on a show for teenagers. Aside from that and the link to a youtube video they e-mailed us, I didn't really know what to expect when they showed up this afternoon after lunch. It was fun though, just a little five minute spot on playing the four chords to a popular Korean song.

Although the actual teaching of it ended up feeling a bit like this:


At the end, they asked me to play the song for them... which made me very glad I spent the morning listening to it on repeat and trying out the chords. I think I played it that well enough for not knowing the song much, but I think I got by. They also asked if I had a message to their teenage viewers in Cambodia. I said, "Keep listening to music, and try guitar! It's fun!" Cheesy, I know.

Here's the song, btw, of which I am now thoroughly sick (it's a saccharine number about a whiny boy wondering where he went wrong with his ex why's she marrying this new guy but hey we're still friends I'll always be there for you when you need a friend *cough* I still love you *cough* what hm? Of course I'll play the piano for your wedding because we're friends, see how I try to usurp the relationship with your fiance with our friendship? Why don't you love me back, again?):


I'll post pictures and video of the spot later if I can get my hands on it.

Other than that, nothing new... just been very busy at work. We have a big charity concert coming up on Sunday which has been keeping our schedule action packed. More on that (and a proper update of the last 3 months) later....

UPDATE: Photographic evidence!

I can haz bicycle!

So I was thinking, Hm, no one's commented on my blog in awhile... and then I realized I haven't posted properly in over a month. Sorry. I will write a longer post updating you as to all my little adventures (trip to the beach, concerts, rugby), but for now I have to tell you a little about my new bicycle. (You can also sort of keep up with what I'm doing via my Facebook photo album.)

First of all, it must be said that Phnom Penh is not the most agreeable city for walking. Picture grand, tree-lined boulevards... which are impossible to cross due to the 6+ lanes of traffic. Picture narrow, dingy alleys... where at any moment you're likely to get run over by a moto roaring out from a shop, another alley, or from behind another vehicle. Picture cracked, dusty sidewalks which are perfect for twisting an ankle, or smooth, even sidewalks, perfect for riding your motorcycle. I think you get the picture. Any stroll through town is not only sweaty in the humid heat, but an obstacle course of weaving around cars and motos parked on the sidewalk, shifty storm drain covers, broken concrete, and people trying to run over you. Not to mention the tuk tuk and moto drivers who yell "LADY, TUK TUK? TUK TUK! LADY LADY, TUK TUK?!" at you at every corner.

This makes other options for getting around town preferable. Tuk tuks and motos are the local equivalent of taxis, although you'd better know where you're going and how to get there because most of the drivers are new to the city, will say they know where said place is even if they don't, and don't know how to read maps. In my early days here I spent more than a few tuk tuk rides with the driver circling the same area for 15 minutes before realizing we were all lost. The drawbacks of tuk tuks and motos aside, they're still quite convenient, but taking them everywhere tends to add up, especially when you're going out by yourself. Also, it's a better idea to call a driver you know and can trust, rather than picking a random from the street. If he's not available (I haven't seen a female tuk tuk or moto driver yet), you either risk it or stay in. Even if he is available you can be waiting 20-30 minutes for him to get to where you are and pick you up.

Again, none of this is really complaining, but you can see why one would want to be able to get around on her own. Of course, the coolest, best, most awesome and supremely dangerous way to get around is to get a scooter or motorcycle. As I'm staying till September and unsure of my time after that (oh, did you get the memo? I'm staying till September) I didn't want to spend a few hundred bucks on a scooter and worry about having to sell it quickly or at a loss when I go. Or about gas, or finding a mechanic, or getting stopped by the traffic police (for valid or invented reasons) and having to bribe them to get out of it, or getting run over by a marauding Lexus (though I suppose this is possible on a bicycle, too).

So instead, I opted for a regular old bicycle. I call it Frankenbike because when I bought it I took all the good parts off the other bikes at the used bike shop. Part of this was because mine cost $5 more than Sharon's because it has differently shaped handle bars. Hm. Can I switch the handlebars (to the cheaper kind)? I asked. Nope. As it was the only bike tall enough for me, and it's still a bit small, I basically swapped all the other parts (brake pads, brake handles, handle bar grip, chain, pedals, gear shifter, etc.) and got a new front tire. Now Frankenbike is mine, a nice little Japanese-built frame with a basket, light, and frame on the back for a passenger.

We've had some good times together already: grocery shopping, going to restaurants and bars, and just generally exploring. Last Monday, after I finished my errands I just decided to ride around town for a bit and explore. It was amazing. I rode about 10 miles in total, just taking long trips down streets and then turning around and following them back to the city center. It's so crazy to see the contrast between the narrow side streets and the giant, constructed boulevards. The side streets feel so... Asian. I can't think of a better way to describe it. They perfectly fit into the Western, romanticized 'idea of Asia', for lack of a better way to put it. Narrow streets hemmed in by four-story buildings, storefronts and sidewalk stalls and traveling vendors all spilling out into the street, with cars and pedestrians and bikes and motorcycles and scooters vying for space. And then the giant boulevards constructed during colonial times are just huge and chaotic and thrilling for how busy they are. They feel like the New Asia, with giant government buildings (I swear the gates on the Council of Minister's building are about 50ft high, definitely inspired by Angkorian proportions) and new, gleaming sky scrapers going up (only a handful in town at the moment).

I definitely am not going to be scared of biking around in the US after this. (Also, weirdly enough, tuk tuk drivers still solicit "Tuk tuk? Tuk tuk?!" at me even when I'm riding my bike.)

I am getting tan now (sort of)

I'm starting to get the ex-pat tan: tanned arms and creamy white shoulders, a dark v in the front from button down shirts, sunburn on the back of my neck, and a white hyphen across the bridge of my nose.

A few of the awesome things my students have said...

Yes, yes, we know kids say the darndest things, blah blah blah... but it's still funny. All these kids are about 6, mind you.

Student: I play guitar and my sister plays piano.
Me: Yup. That's right.
Student: And a piano is bigger than a guitar.
Me: You're right. And what's bigger than a piano?
Student: An elephant!
Me: Uh, yes. And what's bigger than an elephant?
Student: A dinosaur.
Me: And what's bigger than a dinosaur.
Student: A dragon, duh.

One student to another: At home do you do Microsoft power point?

Student: What's your brother's name?
Me: I don't have a brother.
Student: Do you have a dog?
Me: I have two dogs.
Student: What are their names?
Me: Kuma and Mizuki. Do you have dogs?
Student: (nods) Three.
Me: What are their names?
Student: I don't know.
Me: You don't know your dogs' names?
Student: No... Dogs can't talk.

Thoughts on NGOs in Cambodia

Perhaps you've already read this article from Slate: Silence of the Lambs
For do-gooder NGOs in Cambodia, accommodation with the regime is very profitable

I have a lot of opinions on this article, though they're not necessarily all Cambodia-specific. Rather than leave some rambling spew in the comments section I thought I'd get up on my soapbox here at home.

First, I think that the author is right to approach NGOs with skepticism, particularly where he writes, "People should bring the same degree of scrutiny to NGOs as they do to corporations and governments " and quotes an Action Aid report's criticism, saying, "Instead of transferring skills to Cambodian staff, their time is spent writing reports or doing jobs which they should be training local staff to carry out." These are both excellent points that need to be made more frequently in the dialogue about foreign aid.

Of course any organization should be held accountable, particularly when working with marginalized people, sensitive environmental situations, under shaky/corrupt governmental conditions, etc. NGOs are just as prone as the rest of us to retreat into a cloud of buzz-words. Just as we deride the corporations in movies and our lives for talking about how all their "team players" contribute to "synergy" by putting those cover sheets on the TPS reports, terms like "gender empowerment" or "sustainable livelihoods" can be used so often they come across as meaningless unless they're backed up by very specific examples, actions, and/or programs. But let's face it, we all do that sort of thing nowadays -- it's a symptom of the disease of euphemism in our modern society. We want to hide what we really do, out of fear it is insignificant or meaningless. If it sounds good, whether it is "strategic thinking sessions" at conferences or "positive team player" on our resumés, it makes us feel good and reassures us that the work we're doing is important, not insignificant. Heaven forfend we spend parts of our lives doing something that doesn't really matter. (A photographic thought on that point.)

Though pointed and well intentioned in the beginning, I find the rest of the article to be a bit sloppy in its criticism.

I bristled at the characterization of a 2007 Conservation International scientific expedition to catalogue biodiversity as "15 days merrily traipsing about while cataloging species of ants and katydids." (Note, the bolded emphasis is mine, but in the original article these are the words selected from the sentence to carry they now-defunct hyperlink to CI's page on the report.) Apparently scientists never take their work seriously and scouring the wilderness of a national park searching for new species of animals less than a centimeter in size is just a merry holiday!

Or like getting dispatched to an island to monitor the biodiversity of coral reefs, except -- oops! -- "they spent a large part of their time snorkeling with a local diving company"! So all scientists shouldn't be trusted to measure the things they've spent years studying, like the natural environment. Also, don't even think about strapping on that mask and those fins to check out the reef health. You should just peer over the side of a boat as the local fishermen do when they drop dynamite in the water to catch fish.

That is not in any way to suggest or justify that the needs of the local communities shouldn't be considered. Seriously. In fact, it underscores what the real issue is in the example with Koh Rung Sangleum: land rights. If the government cared about the locals' livelihoods, it would have opened a forum with them or called an NGO that deals with livelihoods and land rights. They made a clever move by asking an NGO that specializes in biodiversity (FFI) to make the assessment, which then gives their sale of the villagers' land the veneer of credibility because, hey, an NGO said it was ok! The NGO still isn't in a good position in this whole transaction, but shouldn't take all the blame for it.

The root of most of the situations that the author is critical of is a legal one: land rights in Cambodia are a freakin' mess. Lonely Girl Travels sums it up well in one of her several entries on Phnom Penh:

Land rights are a huge issue in Cambodia. And like so many of the country’s problems, it comes out of the war: after the Khmer Rouge fell, no one had property deeds—you just moved into any available space you found. It was a clusterfuck of a situation. Ten years ago, the government began an official campaign to get people proper titles to the land they’d been living in since the KR. But it was a muddled, mismanaged process in which poor folks largely lost out. As a result, a lot of the country’s residents still don’t have official claim to the land they’ve been living on.

It’s the perfect situation for exploitation.

I'm going to let the rest of the individual examples slide, and be content with feeling grumpy over the author's clear lack of experience with scientists. The rest of the examples of mismanaged NGO efforts are more of an inconsistent hodge podge of actions by different groups, that all really only have the label NGO in common. They should care about biodiversity! Except that then they didn't care about livelihoods, because now the villagers have to cater to eco tourists. And now in this other situation the villagers have no jobs because biodiversity is being preserved! Shame on you, NGOs!

Next point: Yes, corruption is bad. But in a country as corrupt as Cambodia (recently ranked 154 in the world by Transparency International), sometimes the cooperation (or blind eye) of the government is essential to getting something accomplished. Is it ideal? No. Is it reality? Absolutely. So what do you do? Dither about morality and do nothing or try and get some form of rapport (not to mention legitimacy) going with a government agency to make some sort of progress?

Again, the opening premise of the article is a noble one, but the piece is too long and lapses into a jumbled diatribe of cynical sensationalism. (Sigh, and I told myself I wasn't going to get that worked up about one stupid article on the internet...) The author concedes that there are good NGOs out there, names four at which he has friends, and then proceeds to paint all remaining organizations working in the country with broad, critical brush strokes charging everything from ineffectiveness to outright slavery ("some [villagers] told the Post they felt 'trapped in a state of indentured servitude'"). If I were his editor, I'd whip out my red pen like a high school teacher and scribble, Need to do a little more research, hm?

Lastly, while we should absolutely approach aid skeptically and realistically, that does not mean we need to approach it cynically, which I fear is what the overriding emotional message of the piece is. One of the best concerts I've been to was Billy Bragg at The Great American Music Hall in October of 2010. In addition to the great songs there was his charming and intelligent banter in between them. A point he made that has stuck with me since was not to give in to cynicism. It's true, he pointed out, there are still problems in the world and some of the things we've been working hardest against haven't budged. But are making progress in some areas and we have to remember that to give ourselves hope. Because if we just give up and accept a cynical view of everything that tells us we are powerless, then they have won. All the governments, all the corporations, all the things we are fighting, they want us to give in to cynicism and give up. And we can never do that.

My last beef is with the picture they use to illustrate the article. I did leave a comment on Slate about that, so I'll save myself some typing and just let it speak for itself:

Setting my other opinions about the article aside, I, too, am puzzled with the decision to include the rugby picture to illustrate this article... Not sure if it was the author's or editors' choice or what. I'm involved with the rugby here in Cambodia and, as [another commenter] said earlier, the people who run it do so in their spare time. Not only that, but the emphasis is on training and developing the local players to be coaches and referees.

The NGO shown in the picture is PSE (Pour un Sourire d'Enfant), and it actually is a pretty good organization; I know some people who work with the school, but it also passes the criticisms the author sets out in his article. From the PSE website:

"One of the chief priorities of PSE was to make the team, which worked at the grass roots, completely Khmer. The Cambodians must be the real performers in their country's development; it is the request of the Cambodian government, the wish of the founders and the assurance of the permanence of the programmes. Today, the management team is 100% Khmer."

(More can be found here.)

Anyway, if the argument is 'Yes, some NGOs do good work BUT the careless ones should be accountable' then it would behoove the publishers to do a little more research before slapping any old picture from Cambodia on an article. (I fear by writing this I've just gotten some poor unpaid intern sacked...)

Enough ranting from me! I'll update you on what's been happening IRL soon.

UPDATE (6/24) with more grumpy thoughts:
The article takes issue with "NGO workers [who] represent a privileged caste, isolated and detached from the people who serve as the objects of their benevolence." The Westerners and foreigners I've met here have been pretty evenly spread between NGO workers, consulate/embassy staff, businesspeople (working for both foreign firms and their own domestic ones), and English teachers. It's impossible to know, unless you engage someone in conversation, what they do exactly and whether or not they belong to this supposed "privileged caste." This is what I imagine happening: the author, sitting in a café in town or perhaps walking around, sees one of the many marauding Lexus SUVs in town speed past and grumbles to himself, "There goes another fatcat NGO worker" when it's really probably just my boss and his family. Do you really know if the well-heeled woman climbing out of a car is an NGO worker? Perhaps she runs her own interior design boutique here, is a teacher at one of the international schools, works for a successful Korean bank, or is simply married to someone at an embassy. Don't get me wrong, I'm not one to defend extreme wealth or class differences. But if you're going to call out the wealthy foreigners in a country don't assume they all work for NGOs; decry the foreign capitalists too, whose business actions lead more directly to the degradation and subservience of developing countries than the NGOs who say they're fighting them.

The more I read it the more the article just reeks of thoughtlessness and hasty journalism.

Update: Crazy life

(I wrote this a couple days ago... so you can add two days to any time-related statements. I'm too lazy to edit them all and double check for continuity.)

Well, the power went out last night and didn’t come back on, as it looks like our building is wired poorly (wrong) and it’s being fixed this morning. I’m not really surprised, not to say I saw it coming or anything… Anyway, Sharon and I slept downstairs on the couches in the waiting room. It totally felt like a school time slumber party.

Anyway life here’s getting a bit interesting and busy. I don’t want to miss anything, but there’s really no beginning, so… Anyway.

We finally moved from the hotel to the school Wednesday morning. Mike (Dara’s friend, and our new music teacher) arrived Monday. Wednesday I had lunch with Thomas, the secretary of the Cambodian Federation of Rugby, who gave me a lot of contacts. I had e-mailed him about getting involved with Women’s Rugby here, to see if there were any teams to practice with. He asked if I had any experience or interest in coaching as well, and of course I said yes. It looks like I might end up helping out a bit with the women’s national team here, which is EXCITING to say the least. There’s also a gala dinner coming up (good banter was guaranteed to me) plus some matches and tournaments that I may or may not be able to make, given my Saturday teaching schedule.

So last night I went out to a training session for U20s at PSE (a French NGO, Pour un Sourire d’Enfant) with a guy named Sylvere (who Thomas put me in contact with). PSE is a school for disadvantaged Cambodian kids, and I guess it’s just the school team. I watched the training and we had a little chat afterwards about what I can do to help and/or participate. While I was watching several of the girls greeted me with a friendly “Bonsoir” as they rotated through the lines in their drills. I also chatted with a girl sitting out (due to injury, natch) and Rami, whose birthday it was, after practice. Sylvere was friendly and happy to have someone offering to help out. It looks like he has enough help for the PSE practices, especially as he’s trying to train a young Khmer guy as a coach, but I’m welcome to come along to trainings and participate. Which frankly, sounds perfect. The girls seem friendly and it would be pretty cool to be able to have a team to run around with. The only other girls team is Lycée Descartes, and the two sides play each other once in awhile. I don’t think I’ll be playing in any games, as the girls are much younger than me, but rugby is rugby is rugby. It’s always good. (And I really need the exercise.) It will be interesting, though to be running at a practice where all the instruction is given in French and then translated into Khmer.

Sylvere helps coach the women’s national side, and Soaphan, one of the players who was there last night, helps coordinate the side. Since Mondays are my days off, we’re going to try and set up some trainings for then. That will be more coaching. Sylvere is very busy (with work and running lots of trainings for other teams, including the men’s national side and some boys teams), and he said he would definitely appreciate the help.

I figure, rugby got me into this mess (well, not a mess really), I might as well give back.

Not only was Sylvere happy and helpful about the rugby, but he also invited me (and friends) out to dinner with his friends last night. We met up at a pretty good Italian/European place run by a Khmer chef who used to work for the UN and loves cheese, and sat at a long table mostly of French speakers. We ended up chatting to Vincent, a French cabinet-maker who used to live in India and is traveling and living around the world for awhile before going back. Rugby, and the people you end up meeting. Nonetheless, very nice of Sylvere to extend the invitation. It seems like the expat/western community here is generally welcoming and supportive, as we’re all so transient and there are so few established resources here to go off of, other than street knowledge and connections.

The other exciting rugby lead is this guy, Graham, who works in marine environmental impact assessments, for a construction/natural resource development company. Thomas sent a short introductory e-mail and I expected a quick reply of, “Who is this girl? Does she have a resumé? What does she want?” but instead I got a friendly e-mail about his own background in marine biology and the invitation to put me in touch with other people in the company and chat about marine resources sometime. Rugby!

As I was showering this morning I thought back to how, in college, I thought about spending more time studying and less time playing rugby. So very glad I didn’t.

Anyway, the rugby-related meetings have eclipsed slightly what were the bigger news items this week – the arrival of Mike, the move to the school, getting our pictures taken at a portrait studio for the upcoming concert, and planning and preparing for said concert.

The move to the school was smooth, despite the power issues we’re having now – we overloaded the circuit last night when we all came home and turned on our lights and air conditioners at the same time. It’s a much bigger relief to be living here than I thought it would be. Relief? Well, comfortable. It’s really nice to not have to be on everyone else’s schedule, make my own breakfast, and just head out and get a tuk tuk at night without worrying about the hotel staff judging/gossiping about it. Plus, Sacom’s pretty cute and is basically like our little pet. A very active pet who only sort of speaks English, Chinese, Khmer, and holds great destructive potential for our belongings. Wait, that’s almost exactly like a pet.

The experience at the portrait studio was pretty entertaining. We had always made fun of this one poster in the elevator at the hotel, with cheesy, super-photoshopped pictures advertising a FujiFilm-connected studio. Guess where we ended up getting photographed?

We got all done up and got snaps taken, me with guitar solo and playing violin in a group. For a concert where the instruments are likely to only be piano, guitar, and voice. Ohhh well. Truth in advertising doesn’t seem to be an established practice here. Or at home for that matter. At one point they had me holding the guitar in super classical style, with the neck wayyyyy up, and with me slightly turned to the side and with my head cocked. Basically in exactly the pose I would have done if I was being an idiot and trying to act dumb and crack people up. I felt so stupid, I couldn’t stop laughing and had this huge grin on my face. After a few photos of that, the photographer said something and Suong translated rather harshly: “Change your face!” This only made me laugh more.

Our next big task is putting on a concert at a restaurant, to promote the school, in about two weeks. We’ve finally got all the pieces selected and now pretty much just need to go about practicing them. Sounds easy. It’s straightforward, but not easy. So now my mornings and early afternoons are devoted to practice, and late afternoons are for teaching. Wheeee. And evenings are about rugby, getting out, trying to start a social life. Busy busy busy.

And there we are. And here I am.

P.S. A comment that Thomas made about the rugby: “We have plenty of equipment, that’s not the problem. We need coaches.” It made me smile at first, given how much of a struggle getting the right equipment at home can be. It made me think, though, that money isn’t the problem. Money is the easy part, really. Not necessarily large amounts of money, but there’s enough cash and stuff floating around in the world for a bit of charity here, a few dozen soccer balls here, a school building over yonder… The material things are the easy part. They can be ordered and manufactured and shipped and paid for without a lot of effort. Knowledge is the hard part. Experience is difficult to find, impossible to transport. It’s people that make the difference. (I’m sure that’s someone’s tag line by now.)

You may ask yourself, well, how did I get here?: Laos Pt. II

By now I’m sure you’ve seen the pictures of my trip (if not, allow me to direct you to Facebook). I’ve been putting off writing this for some time, so allow me to hash it out poorly and hastily so that I can move on with my life.

My new bus friends and I arrived into town around 8pm, from our bone-rattling journey from Vang Vieng, asking each other if we’d booked a guesthouse in advance. None of the four of us could answer yes. We each commented that one local or another had told us all the guesthouses were full, that New Year’s was a very busy time, all the accommodation had been booked a long time ago, etc. That may be true, but knowing it wasn’t going to go back in time and get us a reservation, so we resorted to walking around the main part of town, asking at every guest house up and down the street. We actually managed to find one fairly soon and on a street in the heart of old town. It only took about 20 minutes, a few blocks of circling, and maybe 10 or more inquiries. Old town is a UNESCO Heritage site, so it’s packed with quaint, colonial-esque buildings that almost exclusively house either shops, restaurants, or guesthouses.

Settled at our guesthouse, we hit the night market for dinner. The food area was fantastic and cheap. Most of the vendors operate buffet style, so you walk up, get a plate full of whatever looks good, and they heat it up for you. I had a plate of noodles and other goodies for 10,000 kip, or about $1.25. I love the cheap street food in Southeast Asia.

After dinner we headed out in search of The Disco. We had passed a busy, loud club on our way into town from the bus station, and my Aussie roommate was determined to find it. There was a lot of pantomime involved with telling the tuk tuk driver where to take us. “We want to go to disco!” “Disco? This is disco.” (A quiet, dark building.) “No, we want DISCO.” (Pump fists above head.)

The disco was pumping alright. Packed to the gills with locals plus a smidge of Westerners, the kids were out in force to celebrate the new year. The music was decent, for a random club in a small town in Laos. It was mostly pop and dance music, although they did manage to play “Happy Birthday” five times. The first time it came on it was funny, the second time it was hilarious, the third time… confusing. After that it was just annoying.

The next day I planned to take on Luang Prabang and get a whole bunch of sightseeing in. My roommate and I headed out to get find a little café for breakfast (as I was craving pastry), which lead us up to the main street. We saw the waterfight from far away and briefly considered eating on another street, before deciding to brave the fray… it couldn’t be that bad and there were cafés offering immunity all over the street.

About 30 seconds down the street a girl stealthily walked up behind me and, smiling and wishing me happy new year (“Sabaidee Pii Mai!”), poured a pitcher of orange dye down my shoulder. A little bit later, a roving band of 8-year-old boys ran up and left two large dye hand prints on my roommate’s back. Things progressively worsened from there. Drenched and covered in dye, we finally found a café and a table on the porch where we could witness all the action.

It’s hard to describe the mayhem of the day, but needless to say we stayed there until evening and I didn’t get any sightseeing done. I didn’t care. The all day street party/waterfight was awesome. All the shops and restaurants had threaded their hoses out the front, and people were constantly filling up large tubs of water that served as refill stations. I bought a bucket and joined in the fun for awhile, throwing water into the street when people were going by and at the other people at our refill station when there weren’t. Everyone was involved, throwing water around with buckets, shooting super soakers, dancing, wielding hoses, cruising around town in pickups throwing water on the people on sidewalks, smearing grease on others, pouring dye into the refill stations, running around with bags of flour spewing giant powdery clouds… It was so much fun. It was hilarious the way the woman with the hose at our refill tub smiled and cheerfully yelled “Sabaidee Pii Mai!” while spraying you with the hose as you attempted to refill your bucket or watergun.

Part way through the afternoon the battle was interrupted by a parade, from the temple at Phu Sii down to Wat Xieng Tong, the oldest monastery in town. It was a cool mix of religious, cultural, and general small town groups. Lots of people in traditional costumes, lots of marching bands of traditional instruments, marching lines and pickup trucks full of monks, beauty pageant participants, party members holding banners, and even a showing of proud ladyboys. And lots more I’ve forgotten already. The parade occupied the entire street for about an hour, but that didn’t mean the water throwing had stopped, and it certainly didn’t stop the waterfight for the afternoon. It raged on after the parade and even after we went to dinner that night.

Even though there was more waterfight and more parade (going from the monastery back up to the temple) happening the next day, we opted instead to go to Kuang Si, the waterfall nearby, which I was told was particularly spectacular in the dry season. It was definitely worth it. Just go look at the pictures, I don’t feel like trying to describe it here. We hiked all the way up to the top and went swimming in one of the bright blue pools, overlooking the mountains where the falls are nestled. Gorgeous. And then some monks showed up to go swimming too.

Though we thought we were avoiding the street fight water party by heading out of town that day, we had to pass through a number of small villages… all of which were packed with enthusiastic kids who hadn’t had a chance to participate in any of the action in town. Of course, our songthaew driver kindly slowed down each time to let the kids have a square shot. We arrived back in town soaking wet and on the way back to the guesthouse three of us narrowly avoided getting smeared in the face with grease… my roommate was not so lucky.

After dinner on the riverside (again) and drinks at a comfy bar (again) we went out to find a disco (again). It was late and the disco we went to last time was closed (at 11:45pm, hooray for small towns), so we asked the tuk tuk driver about other discos, other options. He said, “Bowling!” “Bowling, like… bowling?” “I think it must be a club called Bowling.” Turns out, it was actually a real bowling alley. So there we were, ten pin bowling, in rural Laos, at 1am. Very surreal. I placed second to last, getting berated the entire time for being An American Who’s Bad at Bowling (“It’s your sport! Your country invented it!” – really, did we? I guess it’s pretty American…), but we were all handily beaten by the Algerian, who had never bowled before in his life. Amazing.

On my last day in town I finally went sightseeing in town. First let me say that Luang Prabang is an adorable little town, similar to Hoi An in Vietnam. It’s got small streets and winding alleys bunched with small mixed colonial and Lao style buildings, interspersed with shiny temples and impressive buildings, all nestled between the mountains, the Mekong, and the Nam Khan river. Charming and quaint in a very good way, although it should be, given that it is a UNESCO World Heritage city (a title proudly displayed multiple times at the parade). Hiking up Phu Sii was sweaty in the midmorning heat, but definitely worth it for the view. The sites on the hill itself aren’t the most spectacular, but they’re a fun hodge podge of religious buildings, statues, and caves. There’s Buddha’s footprint, dark caves packed with buddha statuettes, a few altars, and a collection of golden statues winding down the hill, including buddhas for every day of the week.

After climbing Phu Sii, we rented bikes to tour the rest of the town in style, which was definitely the best way to get around. I love biking in Southeast Asia (when the land is flat). It’s relaxing, it gets you places, the breeze is built in, and cars aren’t (usually) trying to run you down. Anyway, we cruised down to Wat Xieng Tong, a gorgeous old monastery with several impressive buildings. The Lao style of architecture is really cool, with roofs that come down very low and close to the ground (again, go check out my pictures to see what I’m talking about).

More bike riding around town, trying to find Wat Phoi Phao, which was recommended to me by a Lao friend from home for having spectacular views of the area. The temple is quite cool as well, a large, octagonal, two-story structure at the top of a hill on the outside the old part of town. It was worth the sweaty bike ride, and cruising back downhill into town was excellent. We cruised along the river and made a few loops of the old town before turning in our bikes.

That evening I caught a flight back to Vientiane so I could fly back to Phnom Penh the next day. My adventure in Laos was over, and now you know all about it.

In case you hadn't guessed, I like to eat

Dinner tonight was good. At first I was annoyed, but in the end the evening was very nice. We didn’t have dinner at the school, which was totally ok by me, as I'm starting to get tired of eating Chinese food twice a day every day. Anyway, the boss’s family came to take us out to a barbecue/hotpot place. I kind of wanted to do my own thing and just be able to pick a restaurant, but hey, free food. And barbecue and hot pot are really good. The restaurant itself was full of screaming children, in other words, NOT what I want after a day of teaching. Ugh ugh ugh. I was annoyed, but the food was good.

As the place started to empty out a bit and quiet down and I got more food in me, I started to get into a better mood. As we sat around chatting after dinner, telling funny stories and having a good time, it was actually very, very nice. For all the times I feel irked and individualistic in what’s a very collective atmosphere, it was nice to feel like I’m part (some weird, third cousin, twice-removed, in-law part) of a family here.

Also, "We Will Rock You" came on the soundsystem just as the staff finished singing "Happy Birthday" to a table. It was one of those special, random moments.

Tomorrow we pick up our tailored pants! I don’t want to get over excited and wind up disappointed. But I can’t help it, I’m pretty excited. The only problem is I don’t quite know how to find our tailor’s shop. Suong lead us through a warren of aisles, through twists and turns in the Russian Market to pop us out on one side of the market where there are fabric and tailor shops. So, it’s on one of the four sides of the market. No problem.

Driving to work here – sorry, getting driven to work here – always starts a hypothetical conversation in my head. I see the broken sidewalks and trash collectors pulling their individual carts, the heaping mountains of garbage on the side of the road, the corrugated iron and wooden lean to’s built against the outer walls of schoolyards and temples, and it makes me wish every person in America who says, ‘Get rid of the government/welfare/etc.’ could see this. Yeah, screw welfare! Poor families should populate the streets, living in dirt and rubbish, selling chickens and goslings and turkeys and other birds from cages barely big enough for one animal, living in a shack the size of a double bed. Screw medicare and social security, 80-year-olds should pull heavy ox-carts collecting trash or recyclables, or carry heavy baskets of fruit and noodles to peddle on the street. Screw taxes, who needs street signs and stop lights and lane lines and traffic cops and not-broken pavement to drive on? Who needs the government to construct public spaces? Leave it to the private contractors, who use cheap labor and cover a riverfront promenade with a wobbly-tiled walk, where the tiles are simply set next to each other in plain dirt. Bah. Stupid prats.

I’ve been  living in a hotel for a month now… and it’s starting to get vaguely creepy. The staff here know us well of course, but they’re so happy when they greet us in the morning it’s almost unnerving. I don’t want to say they’re sycophantic, but it’s somewhere approaching that. That or they smile so widely and genuinely that they all seem to be in on some joke. Or they’re all on drugs at 8am. Not sure. Still, they’re friendly so… that’s good.

Ok, I promise I'm working on my second entry on Laos. No really, I'm going to go write it right now.

I am playing a ukulele now

I took this video at work. While it's literally what I did today, it also is the perfect metaphor for how my life here feels. 

I... don't really know what's going on around me. I'll just sit here and play The Clash on this ukulele.

And you may find yourself in another part of the world: Laos Pt. I

It’s easier to cruise through my pictures from the week than actually write about it. And it’s easier to stare at an empty text box than actually edit my pictures and post them online.

But I suppose I have to start somewhere.

So I’ll start at the beginning:

I flew into Vientiane Monday evening and was met at the airport by Hudson, my friend’s parents’ intern, who was kind enough to pick me up from the airport and (literally) pick up a case of BeerLao on the way home.

Wait, this is boring. Let me tell you the highlights: Checking out the slow, quaint pace of Vientiane. Rock Climbing in Vang Vieng. Epic street party waterfight in Luang Prabang. There, that’s what you have to look forward to and what I have to look back on.

I loved Vientiane. Lots of people said they found it boring or sketchy, but I found it quiet and charming, which was the perfect antidote to Phnom Penh. I really only spent one day sightseeing there, but fortunately that was enough. I would have been happy to spend a lazy week there, sleeping in late and enjoying french cafes and riverside restaurants, but I not knowing when (or if) I’ll make it back to Laos, Luang Prabang beckoned.

Unfortunately, flights were a little expensive ($110 each way) and all the overnight busses were sold out. I didn’t want to lose a whole day traveling on a bus, so I made a snap decision to go to Vang Vieng, a midway point, and try and catch a bus from there the next day. I’d been told it was a quaint city with gorgeous surroundings, despite being packed with hard-partying tourists. It was all of the above. I had a hard time finding a place to eat that wasn’t blasting Family Guy or Friends on a big TV and that wasn’t also full of drunk/stoned westerners. I ended up eating over by the river, taking a walk around town, and sitting in another quiet riverside bar before turning in early. For the next day, I went ROCK CLIMBING. Hell yes.

My bus to LP was at 2pm, so I headed out for just a half day of climbing with one of the local outfitters. Since almost every tourist in Laos was in Luang Prabang already and almost all the tourists in Vang Vieng were sleeping off their hangovers at 9:30am, there were a total of 7 people at the limestone crags where we were climbing. It was absolutely awesome. I love climbing anyway and outdoor climbing is always a blast, but I can’t begin to express how much fun it was. Inner tubing on the Mekong is the backpacker rite of passage in Vang Vieng, but I’m so glad I skipped that in favor of scaling some routes up the limestone.

The climbs were really good and being up high always gives me a thrill thanks to my acrophobia, but probably the scariest part of the trip was the motorcycle ride from the road to the climbing. We left the road to go down a rocky little dirt path, then across a rickety bamboo bridge, across some fields, and finally through some jungle. On the way back, I heard a cell phone ringing and saw my guide look down and start fumbling in his pocket as we were dodging trees in the forest. Please don’t answer that, I thought, as I snatched a spiderweb off my face. Fortunately, we hit the fields again just as he picked it up, the caller warning us of the water fight already taking off in Vang Vieng.

A word on the New Years waterfights: It’s about 37˚C outside (or 98˚F), which is really Way Too Hot. A waterfight sounds like about the best thing in the world. Thankfully, the buddhist new year involves pouring water on people to wash away the sins of last year and bless them for the coming year. Thank god (or, rather thank Buddha), otherwise I might have ended up with heatstroke sometime during the week. In Thailand it’s known for being a pretty epic affair, with Laos apparently celebrating in a slightly more reserved manner. Well, not from what I saw, particularly in Luang Prabang. I got hit first by some Aussies outside a hotel in Vientiane, but things didn’t really get serious until I was on the motorcycle coming back from climbing. The thing that amazed me most was that, despite being hosed down or sprayed with a water gun or doused by the bucketfull, most people just rode on past without reacting. Interesting. I have to say my favorites, though, were the little boys on the back of their mother’s scooters going around town doing drive-bys.

Anyway, rock climbing awesomeness accomplished, I caught my bus to Luang Prabang. Six head-rattling hours in the back of a van later, we were in the old capital. (Vientiane became the capital in 1563, but Luang Prabang remained the royal and religious capital.) While I felt like I almost came away from the van ride with a concussion, I did actually come away with some traveling companions for the next few days: an Aussie guy, an Aussie gal, and an Algerian guy.

Part II to follow soon, I promise!

Imminent Khmer New Year

It's still not any cooler here (30˚C this morning, 33˚ now), but I guess I shouldn't be surprised. April is the hottest month of the year here, and in May the rains come. It doesn't really get any cooler, but that's when the rains come. From what I remember from my trip here last September I have knee-deep flooded streets to look forward to, thanks to the lack of storm drainage. I guess it's better than muddy, impassable country roads...

I just stepped from the office into the kitchen to get some water (a difference of about 10˚C), and I can smell meat, barbecuing for our lunch. Mmm. A note on what I've been eating here: mostly Chinese food. Nothing too exciting, sorry to disappoint you. As we're still staying at the hotel (our rooms at the school are still being renovated) we have breakfast there (toast, fruit, and an array of oily Chinese food in warming trays) which is not amazing, but it's free and requires no effort. Lunch and dinner we have at the school, which is cooked by the family that lives upstairs. Since the boss's family is Chinese and a couple of teachers at the school here are Taiwanese, we usually have some Chinese and Khmer dishes over rice. And soup. There is always soup. Soup isn't my favorite thing to begin with, but it's just about the last thing I want in 30˚ weather. I eat it once in awhile, and I have to say I liked the Khmer pumpkin soup and the lotus soup quite a lot, although bitter melon is definitely not to my taste. I do want to get out and explore the local street food more, though.

I'm slowly learning Khmer, but I'm having trouble remembering what I've learned. I just learned today how to say "tiny banana"... but now all I can remember is that it sounds like "eggs" in Chinese, which I don't know either. Not helpful! The stuff that sticks the best is the stuff you'd say to a three-year-old -- in this case, the three-year-old daughter of the family. Things like "let's eat!", "come out!" and the numbers 1-10. Occasionally the woman who cooks for us tries to teach us a few words or a little phrase (i.e. tiny bananas). At times I’m inclined to think that unspoken cues are universal, but then I remember that almost everyone nods and smiles when they don’t understand what you’re saying. So when we think we’re learning “I want eggs” we’re probably learning how to say “barbecued pork sauce” or something. I really need to learn more, so that I can get around easier and eat more interesting things (a.k.a. explore the food stalls at the market).

It's a slow Saturday here at the school. Saturday and Sunday are usually our busiest days, but next week is Khmer New Year so a lot of families have already left for vacation. Phnom Penh apparently empties out and shuts down as everyone goes home to the provinces, so I'm taking off too. If there were going to be a lot of events in town I might stay, but this is also the only vacation I'm going to have for awhile, especially since I work six days a week. Since I have a whole week, I decided to visit neighboring Laos, the quiet little country just to the north. I've never been and I've heard only good things about it, so why not visit the capital city when it transforms from sleepy town to chaotic New Years crazy city? That part of it wasn't planned, but I should have figured that Lao New Year is probably when Khmer New Year is.

It feels strange and out of place to say "Happy New Year" in April and when it's so hot outside, but it's kind of fun that people here are already wishing it to each other, even among the non-Cambodian families at the school. But what seemed truly out of place was the Charlie Brown-esque Christmas tree in the background of a Khmer New Year TV program I saw. It looked like this, but with white paint flecks all over it:

Take that image and then stuff it onto a lovely TV set, with scores of singers and dancers dressed in silk, dancing traditional dances and singing traditional Khmer songs to celebrate the new year.

One last note, about the traffic in town. It's nuts. Lane's aren't a suggestion, they just don't exist. Although generally traffic stays to the right, driving is accepted on either side of the street, and makes for an interesting thrill when your driver suddenly turns directly into oncoming traffic. Regardless, it's quite easy to drive here. When she drove us to the bank this week, we asked our accountant how long it takes to get a driver's license here. Her reply was, "No need. Just pay." "Pay for what? A license?" "No, just pay if police stop." See? Easy! For a good description (and picture) of the traffic, click here and scroll down to the entry "11 September 2006 -- Traffic Law". (From my own experience, it seems like the law had absolutely no effect.)

One and a half more days of classes and then I'm off on vacation!

A Giant Among Asians: Shopping in Phnom Penh

My little weather widget on Chrome tells me it's 33˚C ("Feels like 34˚") outside -- or about 93˚F, so I'm staying seated in the air conditioned office and telling you about shopping on our day off (Monday).

Phnom Penh (well, Asia, in general) is a shoppers paradise or hell, depending on how you feel about shopping and what size you are. If you love shopping and you're small, it's a paradise. If you hate shopping at home, you'll be overwhelmed and want to stab your eyes out at the prospect of endless hunting and haggling. If you're my size, don't worry about spending too much money, you'll never find anything that fits you anyway.

You can hit the upscale mall, the warrens of teeny shops in the trendy malls, or the stands under the hot iron roof at the seemingly endless Central Market. It’s fantastic – again, if you’re of a petite “Asian” size. After a full day of shopping I succeeded in buying only two tops and a pair of trousers, both fairly loose and light. I failed, however, to find a single pair of shoes that fit (usually only sizes up to 39 or 40 are stocked, I wear a 42) or anything resembling trousers I’d actually want to wear outside of temples in Southeast Asia. After the boss's daughter told me that I can get trousers made for $3 plus the cost of material, though, I felt better. I may finally have my dream of an (almost) entirely fitted wardrobe come true.

It’s not just that clothes are too skinny, because I can sometimes even squeeze into the skinniness of a piece, but everything is just proportioned wrong. Shoulders are too narrow, the waist always falls too high... What should be a dress on most is a slightly long shirt on me. And forget about it fitting over my boobs.

In the course of our shopping and eating of lunch and snacks we were discussing the price of things here. Things seem to be either dirt cheap (e.g. street food or awful clothes we don’t want to buy) or kind of expensive (by comparison). My theory (which belongs to me*) is that it’s because there’s no real middle class here, so things either have to be cheap enough for the poorest of folk, or they cater to people like our boss and his family, whose teenage daughter gets an allowance of $300 EVERY WEEK. Seriously. I don’t spend that much in a month living at home in the states. Ok, maybe I do, but still, this is Cambodia and that’s a crazy allowance. So after our $7 all you can eat Shabu Shabu and Sushi Buffet for lunch, we three split two 5,000 riel ($1.25) sandwiches for dinner. It’s sort of weird, treading the line between the bubbles of upper class Cambodians, Ex-pats, and average local life.

*Monty Python reference

I ate pizza for dinner Saturday night

We went to The Pizza Company Saturday night for dinner, a big chain in a mall, and had pizza and some other Italian food. The "Cambodian Spaghetti" surprised me in two ways. First, I was impressed at how well the spaghetti was cooked, considering it had been pan friend in a wok. Second, there was a chili stuck to the underside of a large piece of pancetta, which I unwittingly ate. The pizza itself was pretty good, once I realized that it wasn't still oven-hot (that was the chili). We had Thom Yum pizza (yes, like the soup) with limes to squeeze on top, and a pork/pineapple/hot dog pizza, with a cheesy hot dog baked into the crust. Definitely unusual, but not something I think would be too beyond the imagination of CPK.

Sometimes I feel like I work at a music factory. Sorry, that seems to imply that working conditions are bad, which they're not. But I sit in an office, and sometimes in a room with a piano, and little projects -- I mean students -- filter in and out, in and out, coming away with slight improvements each time. There's pretty much always classical music being played somewhere, and every time I walk up or down the stairs I feel like I'm in a Cambodian version of Billy Elliot. Or something.

It's sort of weird having a work schedule that basically consists of a bunch of scheduled appointments. Somehow it feels different from my other teaching gigs.

Mosquitoes are a fact of life here, which I'm going to have to just accept. I've been wearing long pants exclusively this week, and as a result I only have 7 bites on my left foot and 11 on my right. I spend most of my time in an air conditioned office, mind you, but apparently my time in the semi-enclosed kitchen and second floor are enough to garner me an attack. I'm wearing leggings and a skirt today, but I've already been bitten three times through my leggings, so I can tell you exactly how much longer this is going to last. Best get myself to the market tomorrow and buy some more pants. The upside to working in air conditioning is that it makes it actually comfortable to wear pants.

I am eating a Sandwich Now... in Phnom Penh

Everything is at once different, yet familiar, but still not quite right. Like the stationary store that also sells sports equipment. Or the half stocked pharmacy with things like "super floss" and "spasmo" medicine. Or from the very specifically named Mini Banana Restaurant to the infinite possibilities of the Do It All Pub. There's a thousand things to see and note, and I couldn't possibly begin to put them all down here. In that sense, living somewhere exotic is so different than traveling somewhere exotic. When you're traveling, everything's supposed to be different, that's the experience. When you live there, everything's different and you have to try to make it make sense to you so you can find your way through it on a daily basis. Crazy.

The school I work at is very nice and caters to the international and wealthy families. The kids are, of course, cute, as kids are pretty universally cute. But this is the kind of school where you hear "I learned that song when I lived in Hanoi" ("Shoo Fly, Don't Bother Me") or "Teacher, do you speak Korean?"

And speaking of languages, things are a bit strange. Obviously Khmer would be useful to know, but Mandarin is used around the school a lot too (mostly among staff), and French pops up in odd ways here and there. For example, the street the school is on is labeled "Street 51 (Rue Pasteur)" on signs. (At least I get to teach in English.)

Speaking of streets, the one the school is on is vey nice, and in a nice part of town. By "nice", I mean the buildings are fancy/important and the shops and restaurants nicer. There's a huge, fancy house next door to the school, but when we asked who lives there the most extensive answer we could get was "His Excellency". (I have no idea who this is, but it's not the king or prime minister as they have official residences.) We're near a lot if UN agencies, big NGOs (like UNICEF), and International schools. A nice part of town. However, as this is still Cambodia, "nice" part of town means that all the buildings are behind walls and iron gates topped with curly barbed wire. Nice, yes. Inviting, no.

Not to mention I'm still a huge target for every tuk tuk tout, taxi driver, and begging child or amputee. Sigh, not that I ever won't be, I suppose, being so incredibly white.

I feel like my life is so ridiculous, so strange, so drastically different and all of a sudden so, that it's not like my life has been turned upside down, but rather that I waltzed in and took over someone else's life.

Goodbye for awhile, USA

"We're going to miss you, but I feel like this is how life is always going to be with you -- airports." -my mom

On Monday I found out/decided I'm moving to Phnom Penh, Cambodia, for at least two months to teach piano lessons. I don't really know what else to say, although I guess this sudden announcement does warrant a bit of an explanation. A close friend of mine (from rugby and college) has some family friends who own a music school in Cambodia, and they needed some music teachers very last minute (why is another story). I'm not doing anything, nor is there anything I absolutely cannot miss in the next two months so... why not?

I can apparently extend my stay longer if I want, which I might do depending on how things are going. After I'm done I may travel around for for a bit. We shall see. I have to say I'm very excited to be moving abroad again*, and although the location is decidedly more challenging, I'm excited about the relative freedom the opportunity affords me. (Stay an extra month? Ok. Done working? Go blow all my money SCUBA diving in Indonesia! Or go see India. Or something.)

Moral of the story: I'm REALLY glad my parents made me take piano lessons when I was a kid. And sometimes life changes very, very quickly.

*The first time was Scotland, for my Junior year abroad. Very different. (But still, how exciting is it that I get to say "moving abroad again"?)

Why I love having an ungainly music collection

As of this moment, my iTunes library has 10,410 songs from 1791 artists. It's a total of 48.78GB of music, which would take 28.2 days to listen to. That's pretty incredible. I could start my music on February 1st and it would keep playing into March (non-leap years only). From time to time I struggle with the fact that I could never really listen to and enjoy that much music, nor have I actually listened to all of it. I frequently download new music on spec, suggested by blogs or friends or band pages or music mags. I download more than I get a chance to listen to, and frankly, it's information overload.

However, this has had some rather positive unintended consequences. I now have, more or less, my own radio station packed with new music that I'm likely to find interesting. Of course it's already packed with music I love, which I can play whenever I like, but when I'm lazy and want to listen to good, new stuff without thinking about it, my best bet isn't going on a quest through the internet or turning on the radio, but just putting my existing music on shuffle. It's especially great because sometimes certain songs just have to catch you in the right mood for you to recognize how great they are.

Anyway, that's a long way of saying I found these tracks in the depths of my music collection and now I think they're brilliant:

Holy Fuck "Lovely Allen"
Holy Fuck - Lovely Allen by bakedfreshplaylist

The Electric Prunes "You Never Had it Better"



Josef K "Chance Meeting"

(Version with better sound quality after the break)

I'm sorry, that's not a turn on.

(Guy at the bar is talking a lot about TV shows...)

Me: Sorry, I don't really watch that much TV.
Guy: Well I don't either. Only when I'm out of books to read.
Me: Oh, cool! What sort of books do you like?
Guy: Mostly ones about murder.

We are Going to a Coconut Covered Heaven

I went on a major music binge last night over on RcrdLBL. It's a pretty wonderful site -- I probably spent close to 3 hours browsing and downloading awesome new tunes. And you know how sometimes you find a sick new song and you want everyone to love it as much as you do? I present "Coconut Bible" by New Jersey-based band Yuck.

Coconut Bible by Yuck

More music reviews from my parents...

"Is this Bob Dylan? It sure sounds like him. The voice and intonation and everything. He sort of sings in that 'Nyeeee-ahhhh, nyeeee-aaaah, yeah man it's alright, have another toke' kind of way."
-Dad

Life.

(Taken from here, a retweet from an acquaintance.)

B-Sides I Like

The Rakes, "Dark Clouds" (B-side to "Retreat")


The Beatles, "I'll Get You" (B-side to "She Loves You")


Franz Ferdinand, "Missing You" (B-side to "Michael")


Kaiser Chiefs, "Moon" (B-side to "Modern Way")


Blur, "Mr. Briggs" (B-side to "There's No Other Way")


Editors, "Heads in Bags" (B-side to "Blood")


Sahara Hotnights, "Teenage Kicks" (Undertones Cover) (B-side to "With or Without Control")


There's more, but this is enough to start.

Lessons from Ladies in Noir B-Films: How to Get a Man to Marry You

I saw Angel Face and The Hunted at the Noir City Film Festival this weekend, and learned some handy tips from the femme fatales in the movies.


How to get the man you want to marry you:
Step 1. Attempt to murder your stepmother.
Step 2. Slap the ambulance driver who shows up to help, then stalk him after he gets off work.
Step 3. Take ambulance driver's girlfriend out to lunch and attempt to bribe or intimidate her.
Step 4. Hire ambulance driver as your chauffeur.
Step 5. Attempt to elope with your new chauffeur. This will not work, but make sure you leave your suitcase in his room.
Step 6. Murder your father and stepmother, making it look like an accident.
Step 7. When you and the chauffeur are charged with murder, get your lawyer to insist that the two of you get married as a tactic to warm the hearts of the jury.

Ta da! Now you're hitched. Oh, and if he tries to leave you, insist on driving him to the bus station. But instead, drive your sports car off a cliff with the two of you in it. Don't forget the champagne!

Roundup of Interesting Ocean News

Oceanic "Garbage Patch" not nearly as big as portrayed in media
While descriptions of a swirling plastic patch "twice the size of Texas" are dramatic and likely to increase public awareness, it's more important to be accurate. However, the more accurate picture isn't exactly hopeful. More research needs to be done to determine what exactly are the effects of plastic on the ocean (ingestion by filter feeders, transport of invasive species, leeching of chemicals, microbial colonization of plastic particles, etc.), but that's science for you. More research needed.

Rock-Chewing Sea Urchins Have Self-Sharpening Teeth
I love going down to the tidepools and checking them out. Plus they chew through rock! And their mouth parts are called an Aristotle's Lantern. Sea urchins are just cool, period.

Climate secrets of Marianas Trench probed
It's important to remember that the ocean has a huge effect on the global climate.

How Jellyfish Can Improve Wind Farms
This is one of my favorites, because the potential for biology to inform technology is so exciting.

I judge you when you misspell job postings.

Retail Shop of Horrors

Jezebel brought to my attention to this horrible tidbit found in a Cosmo magazine (Cosmo Recommends Harassing Retail Employees):

"GET A REFUND WITHOUT A RECEIPT: First, try simply telling the clerk you have a return and hand over the goods. If he's a rookie, he may not ask for the receipt. If he does, tell him you don't have it but you'd be happy with store credit instead. Still no luck? Raise your voice so that other shoppers can hear, and say "I spend a lot of money here, but if you can't help me, I'll take my business elsewhere." He may change his tune since he won't want others to be put off by your fit."

The comments on the article are full of retail horror story catharsis. I can tell you from my own retail experience the instant any customer becomes rude and raises his/her voice, any desire I had to help them instantly evaporates. Chances are my manager is going to back me up, and I'm quite content to let you yell and make a fool of yourself while the other customers behind you in line think, "Christ, what an asshole."

Some gems from the comments:

"At my last job, when someone would make a fuss we would take them to the back of the store to show them all our exclusive items. They even left through a secret exclusive door."

"Laws of the retail universe: 1) We always know the customers who spend a lot of money, especially in smaller stores and 2) regular customers never seem to be the ones who pull that crap"

"I remember one woman who came in with her 3 kids. The oldest, a girl of about 15, comes up while her mom is putting her stuff down at the table and orders a mocha. sure, no problem, I make it. Then her mom saunters up, and looks at me disdainfully.

"What's this?"
"A mocha m'am, your daughter just ordered it."
(dripping with condecension)"Well, does it have caffeine in it?"
"Well....yes, a little"
"She can't have caffeine(as if I should be intimately aware of this), make me one without it"

I am somewhat flustered, because this is a 4 dollar drink that I now have to pour down the sink-- unless we mess an order up, customers are supposed to pay for drinks if we make them. But I can tell she's a pill and I don't want a fight so I kind of shrug and go to knock out the espresso into the trashcan to pull another shot (if you've worked in a cafe, you know what I mean), at which point the woman loudly informs her children that I am "Not treating her well" and that they are leaving the establishment. She informed me that I didn't have to bang the espresso thing down (which actually I do) and that my customer service was terrible. I was about to leave the job anyway, and if I hadn't felt sorry for the daughter who ordered the drink (who was basically in tears at this point) I probably would have told the woman exactly what I thought of her snotty ass."

"screaming about how much you spend with the store or that you're never coming back never meant anything to me. Why should it? I'm not an investor. I get paid the same crappy amount of money no matter how many repeat customers come in that day."

"Wow. So what I've learned from this Cosmo piece, a number of the comments here, and 15+ years in retail is that a surprising number of people are rude, entitled, lying assholes.

Be polite. Be clear. Be... not a bitch. Follow the rules. Most times, you'll get what you want. And if you do feel like you need to be a huge tantrum-throwing, "I'll take my business elsewhere" bag of dicks, don't turn around and brag about it on the internet. No one admires you or thinks you're the #1 gold star shopping queen. You're a bratty, spoiled, entitled fuckwad. Do the world a favor and shop online."

And the same goes for waitstaff, bartenders, etc. Be nice. I am so glad my holiday retail job is over.

Now you can't get this song out of your head