Sports festival video 2

Sports Festival Sept 08

So here are some old videos of the sports festival at my current junior high school. Its basically an entire day of small little relays and then these elaborate dances that their teachers drill into them from the beginning of the term.

Cambodia cont.

Here is the link to the rest of my Cambodia pictures:

cambodia 08

To wrap up the rest of our Cambodian adventure, I will quickly just touch upon the rest of our happenings in Siem Reap:

I got lost in Siem Reap at 5 am the morning we are supposed to leave. Luckily I ran into a British girl whom I had met earlier in the night who pointed me in the right direction to my hotel so I could get an hour of sleep before taking the 8 hour cab ride back to Bangkok.

Richard won a game of pool where a topless (or bottomless in Rich's case) lap around the bar was at stake. I also learned that all British people are good at pool. Every single one of them.

And we didn't get malaria...BONUS!

Watch out for that landmi.....

The "Kingdom" of Cambodia

So I've had a little nearly 2 full months to sit and ponder my real feelings on my 3 day trip to Cambodia. Upon re-entry back into Thailand I had left Cambodia with a bad taste in my mouth. While Angkor Wat was truly spectacular to see and is a totally worthwhile experience that I would recommend to everyone, the rest of the country is wrought with just enough uncomfortableness and disturbing imagery that its hard to not let that overshadow the wonderful things that the country does have to offer.

I've described Thailand to friends as a southeast Asian version of Mexico; great food, gorgeous beaches, unruly but manageable as long as your aren't a bumbling idiot about it. It is seemingly a place where anything can happen. Most people I know describe Mexico and Thailand with an ear to ear grin on their faces, the kind of smile that says please, please PLEASE ask me about my debauched time in so and so place... Cambodia, though, is a place where truly anything can, and usually does, happen.

Starting out with our entry into the country, where we were constantly reminded that smuggling drugs into the country is punishable by death and that the sexual abuse of Cambodian children is an offense that is highly punishable as well, we were instantly spit into a border town described in a guide book as the safest of the available border towns. We had just finished our 3 and a half hour trip by van from our hotel in Bangkok to the Cambodia/Thailand border. It was here that we would get completely bent over on our conversion of Thai Baht to Cambodian Real and would also change modes of transportation from a van with roughly 10 passengers to a Toyota Camery fueled by a propane tank.

The wonderful little road to Siem Reap

I should set this up properly. We had gone to a travel agent in Bangkok to see about getting a flight into Siem Reap, home of the infamous Ankor Wat. Since we were traveling during the high season, the flights we wanted were a little out of our price range. So he told us that for roughly $130 he could book us a package that included round trip taxi fare from Bangkok to Siem Reap (approx. an 8 hour trip we were told), the necessary visa to enter "the kingdom of Cambodia," (a $30 value depending on which conniving border douchebag you asked you asked, even though the value printed on the visa says $20...) and three nights accommodation in a fairly reputable hotel in Siem Reap, which included air conditioning and breakfast. Now I'm sure many of you asked yourself "Why in the hell would you take an 8 hour taxi ride? Surely a bus or train would be cheaper..." And I'm sure it would have been. But, from what we had read and what other travelers had told us, the trains in Cambodia are absolutely ridiculous. First, they don't operate out of every border town, so you must go out of your way to a much more dangerous border town, and then when you get on the train, you come to realize that it is essentially a box car with some bolted down ancient park benches...so trains were out. The bus was our initial choice, but then we heard the horror stories of the road leading to Siem Reap from the Thai border, tales of roads so bad drivers sometimes chose to go off road and drive through rice paddies rather than stay on the road.

*An interesting side story, one which I have not yet confirmed but doesn't sound that implausible, is that the reasoning behind the road being in such sorry condition is that Thai Airways, in an effort to persuade more people to fly directly into Siem Reap out of Bangkok, actually pays the Cambodian government to neglect the road, thus leading to the horror stories which in turn lead to more Thai Airways passengers. It doesn't sound that far off to be honest, but whether or not that is 100% percent true I don't know. (We were told this story by our guide at the border who more than likely told us this story in an effort to gain out trust so that his next story about Cambodian real getting better deals than American dollars seemed believable, which is laughable to even consider now. In short, we were totally fucked on our conversion. It's a hustle I'm sure he runs all day, every day...gotta eat I guess...).

So we chose the taxi, had arrived at the border and were getting out first lungfuls of fresh, crisp Cambodian air (by fresh and crisp, I'm sarcastically implying that it is neither fresh nor crisp. It is actually a horrible, putrid air teeming with so much pollution that your boogers are black when you blow your nose...think more along the lines of "the bog of eternal stench" from Labyrinth instead...). We actually got our first of many scares about a minute or so into the car ride when the taxi driver went off the main road and started driving through town. He pulled over abruptly (all of this without telling us what in the hell was going on) and starts unloading our bags in the middle of this muddy ass street. As it turns out he was simply replacing the propane tank to fuel the car (it was located in the trunk). We almost got out of the car to investigate, but the brief moment the car door was open allowed us to get a whiff of THE most horrible smelling air ever, bar none. This may sound overly dramatic, but it was literally bad enough for us to justify to ourselves that we could amply investigate what was going on outside without opening the door, let alone go outside. Our luggage was simply not worth us stepping outside and breathing in heaping lungfuls of that noxious concoction.

As soon as we hit the infamous road to Siem Reap, it was about as bad as we expected, no more, no less. Nearly the entire car ride consisted of endless bumping up and down and aggressive swerving to avoid the crater sized pot holes (we actually never went off the road though, so that should be considered a plus). We did make one stop at a town along the way so the driver could take a piss, but we all elected to stay in the car with recent memories of border smells running through our nostrils.

The carpool lane on the highway to Siem Reap

What really stuck me about the country side was just how isolated it was. It reminded me a lot of driving through the seemingly endless deserts of New Mexico, Arizona or Eastern California, where you see absolutely nothing but the occasional dirt road jutting across more endless desert. That's what Cambodia was like, a bizarro Death Valley, with waist high grass and gray skies for as far as the eye can see instead of sand and dirt. It gives you an eerie sense of loneliness, or at least it makes feelings of desperation easier to conjure up.

So we finally arrived in Siem Reap, the tourism capital of Cambodia, and it quickly becomes apparent how it has received such a title. Amidst all the squalor and poverty juts out these mountains of capitalism, these huge five-star resorts. While the golf resort rested on the outskirts of town among the brush, the rest of the Western palaces could be found dispersed all throughout the city, literally next door to crumbling buildings or brothels. Whereas in Thailand at least the resorts are off the beaten path and hidden from the miserable normalcy of Thai life, this was not the case in Cambodia where the impression is that separation is a luxury that is chiefly ignored. To call the dynamic stark is an understatement of monumental proportions. Even our own hotel, which was off the main road and down two perilously dark streets, was outfitted with iron gates, marble floors and massive teak furniture. The rooms themselves weren't anything to write home about, but I literally saw naked, starving kids running up and down the street we were staying on.

(I found it hilarious that all but the two nicest places we stayed in had mismatched linens on the beds, everything from My Little Pony discarded sheets to flower printed pillowcases. It was what I would imagine camping out in a garage sale would be like. And also, no blankets...hardly anywhere...)

Now, a note on the kind of people that visit Cambodia. I must say that I met numerous friendly people from all over the world in Thailand/Cambodia, but Cambodia definitely attracts the more adventurous crowd. The first notable people we met while waiting at the border were two British guys named J.P. and Thom. This is where my education on English culture and accents formally began, wherein my friend and Newcastle native Rich would be my guide. J.P. was a "cockney," meaning he has a London accent and speaks with unimaginable speed and is always involved in "the game, the fuckin' hustle mate." Thom was from Middlesborough if I remember correctly, which puts him the "Smog Monster" or "Smoggy" category, a name referring to the noticeable pollution in the Middlesborough air (this is also a name which apparently they hate, and understandably so). Physically, they were a sight to behold since J.P. was maybe the size of a 7th grader whereas Thom was a hulking, blonde brute whose caveman features went deeper than mere physical appearances. J.P. and Thom both lived in London and were rival drug dealers who decided to go on vacation together, traveling all over Cambodia and who would eventually make their way up the river to allegedly see some nearly extinct river dolphins and smoke copious amounts of opium with the hill tribes, granted that they weren't blown up by any land mines along the way. But first, a few days of relative safety in Siem Reap with us.

(A note on the oft publicized land mine situation in Cambodia. So from what I was told, land mines are still very prevalent throughout the country, something like 4-6 million land mines dot the countryside, except in the areas most visited by tourists, so Siem Reap and the capital Phrom Peah are ok. But outside of those areas going off the beaten path is highly questionable and dangerous. It starts to sink in when you catch your first of many glimpses of mine victims that inhabit every portion of Cambodia. There was even a band made up entirely of land mine victims that played every night in the streets of Siem Reap. Nothing quite tugs at the heart strings like a bunch of limbless dudes plucking away at modified guitars and drums.)

Our first night together in Cambodia consisted of drinking a few pints at a local travelers bar, "Angkor What?", and then looking for weed. Now, to say I was freaked out doesn't quite capture my feelings at the time of our quest. Rich knew I wasn't going to smoke, and I had let him know before our trip that any and all drug use in Thailand/Cambodia was out of the question for me, but whatever they wanted to do was fine with me, so he knew how nervous I was. It also doesn't help that every single bookstore you walk by always has on display 10-15 books about Thai prisons, drug smugglers in Thailand or wrongly accused people who spent time in a Thai prison. Needless to say the titles nor the descriptions were flattering. But, there I was, one of 5 in a glorified cart being pulled around by a wheezing dirt bike, looking for the finest in Cambodian dirtweed.

The night ended with the group of us going back to the hotel and the four of them smoking in their room. We had agreed that the next morning we would all wake up and get over the Angkor Wat for sunrise, apparently the ideal time to visit the temple. So we went to bed, or at least most of us did. (When we went down to J.P. and Thom's room to wake them up, we discovered that Thom had stayed awake all night smoking and listening to the only 2 cds he had brought with him.)

I won't much go into the visit to the temple simply because there isn't a lot to talk about. The pictures pretty much speak for themselves. There were wild monkeys running around but I didn't get them in any of the pictures. Typical of SE Asian weather, it was beautiful in the morning, then dumped rain for about 25 minutes then abruptly stopped...nothing too out of the ordinary.

To briefly sum up the rest of my relationship with J.P. and Thom I'll just paraphrase the rest of our shared experiences:

Thom picked up two chicks having dinner together at a food stall by sitting down with them, grabbing one of their bowl's of soup and having at it, to which J.P. replied in his lovable cockney accent, "He's a caveman, a fuckin' animal. No manners whatsoever..."

J.P. professed his undying love of Aerosmith, proclaiming its the only thing the states have given him thats been worth a damn...

Riding around with J.P. in a private tuk-tuk only to find out later that he didn't have a dollar to his name to pay for it. His elaborate scheme was to sell some of his pot to the travelers at Angkor What?, citing his love of "the game," and "the fuckin' hustle." I never found out if he was successful with that business venture, but I did see him leave arm-in-arm with the tuk-tuk driver. I have no idea how that turned out for him.

I think this is my favorite picture I took...

To be continued...
...also, I'll post the rest of the pictures eventually.

Facefisted

So its been a while since I've posted anything. Its not for lack of things to write about, more to do with lack of motivation and sheer unadulterated laziness...but at the behest of friends and family its time to share a few stories and happenings that have since transpired....

...beginning with the most recent, and possibly craziest thing that has happened since I've been overseas. So I'm teaching a lesson about Halloween to a group of 6th years at elementary school, going over standard Halloween language like "bat," "jack-o-lantern" and "monster," nothing that should get them too riled up. But, during a rousing game of the basket game (think duck-duck-goose, but even tamer) a student doesn't like the fact that he is the one left standing, so he grabs another kid, picks him up from his chair and throws him to the ground. He sits down, smiles and leaves the smaller victim left huddled on the floor attempting to collect his dignity.

Well, the teacher, a matronly, older woman in his 50s I would guess, witnesses the assault and moves in for retribution. She grabs the student by the wrist and says something to the effect of "apologize and get out of that chair" (I taking a total guess on that, but it would seem to fit the situation).

Well, he was not a fan of this at all and he begins to struggle with the teacher, attempting to free himself of her terrifyingly meager, nursing home grip. (It should be noted that the student is one of the larger kids in his grade. He is fairly tall for his age, but still very skinny like most Japanese students. Watching his struggle with an old woman was humorous for a little while until it escalated, at which point it went from troubling and back to hilarious in the span of a couple of seconds, but all in good time...).

So the teacher is winning the tug of war at this point, as she has forced the student out of the chair and the two of them are now standing toe-to-toe in the circle of chairs I had arranged for the now forgotten game. He must have realized that her ferocious kung fu grip wasn't going to be broken unless he stepped it up a notch, so he rears back and gives her a solid kick in the leg, reminiscent of a kickboxing move, connecting solidly with her mid thigh.

To her credit, she doesn't give an inch, so he kicks her again (please, no one ask me why I just sat there and watched an old lady get kicked in leg twice, I don't yet have a decent explanation...). Having already assaulted a teacher in American standards and witnessing his efforts being brushed aside by a sweet old lady donning a jack-o-lantern hair band (the ones with pumpkins flopping about on 8 inch springs), he decides to go for broke and punches her in the face. Let me repeat that: he punched an old lady in the face. And I'll tell you the best part...she didn't move an inch...

This is where I come in. Apparently kicking an old woman is ok for me to watch, but I draw the line at punches to the face. Let no wrinkly face be harmed on my watch, only their brittle, veiny legs...Before the punch, I simply sat in awe along with the other students watching the proceeding unfold, but after the fists of infantile fury were thrown I jumped out of my chair and bear hugged the kid, restraining his spindly, fiery-self.

Its at this point that little Nathaniel Noodlearms starts crying in my arms. Sensing the worst is over the teacher tells me its ok to let him go and then instructs me to continue with my lesson...which at this point is furthest from my mind. But I trudged forward with the game that started this whole mess in the first place.

Now, onto the most curious part of the story. In America I'm fairly certain that the student would be arrested and the school would hold a vigil for the once bruisless cheek of the teacher, all the while relegating the students present in the classroom to therapy sessions to cope with the trauma of such a jarring event, while the rest of the school would be subjacated to anger management sessions and sensitivity training. The student in question would be given numerous drug and alcohol tests and the child's home life would be under intense investigation. What I'm getting at is that it would be a big deal. A REALLY big deal.

Not so in Japan apparently. Mr. Aggrivated Assaulted stood up in front of the class and apologized to the kid he threw on the ground and the class applauded him. I still expected there to be some reprecussions and at midday there was a meeting in the teacher's room, during which I was asked to wait outside. Surely this was the meeting where shock turned to anger turned to swift, deliberate action. But as I later found out, this was not the case.

Not one word of the incident of mentioned to me, except for a brief thank you from the teacher who was hit. I left school and called my company to tell them what had happened, that I had to physically restrain a kid, (which they said I actually shouldn't have done since Japanese parents are a little particular about who touches their kids, especially in the case of "overly-aggressive Americans") but that everything seemed to be alright. Thinking that was the end of the story, I was surprised to get a phone call from one of the ladies from the office. She called to tell me she had heard about what had happened through my boss, so she called the school to verify if everything was indeed alright when she learned that kyoto sensei (vice principal) DIDN'T EVEN KNEW IT HAD HAPPENED. The teacher didn't tell anyone, I was the first person to let it slip, and actually I let it slip to quite a few people at this point since it was a pretty exciting news story for me. So now I'm just hoping I didn't break some unspoken oath of the Japanese classroom, that which happens in the classroom stays in the classroom.

A few more pictures

Back Amongst the Working

So vacation is over unfortunately, and its time to go back to work and educate the Japanese prepubescent masses in the art of English. But first, here are a few pictures from my trip to Thailand/Cambodia. These are only the scuba diving pictures that were taken on Koh Tao on the last day of our diving, where we completed a deep dive down to 30 meters, a photography dive and a night dive where out dive instructor had us turn off our torches midway through and dive with only the moonlight. For me, the moonlight was pretty inadequate as I could not see a single f'n thing, but the pictures did a nice job of showing how much more colorful the ocean floor became when the sun goes down. I can't put all the pictures on the blog, there are just too many, so I'll only put a select few here and then the rest on my online photo album, which you can see at

http://picasaweb.google.com/jamesrburbridge

As soon as I get the rest of my pictures, mainly of Angkor Wat and the Grand Palace, off my camera I'll post them here as well. Prost.