See you there,

C

http://theoriginofthebear.tumblr.com/

that shit’s hot

I have been working on a new magazine that the Phnom penh Post is publishing called Lift. It is available online at phnompenhpost.com.

It’s a weekly mag written by and for young Cambodians. It’s a super exciting project and I’m thrilled to be part of it, but I haven’t had much time for CCR.

Hope to get back into blogging when things settle down, but don’t hold your breathe. Not that you needed my advice on that one.

hope all is well wherever you are.

-c

Here are some photos, taken by the fine photographers at the Post, that didn’t make it to print. A little something to help satiate my craving for self-indulgence – this is a blog after all.

Photo taken by my translator/sidekick Sina

This last weekend was the water festival. I wrote a story about a day with one of the dragon boat racing teams. Upon arriving on Tuesday morning, I was invited to join the team on their boat during the race. An extra 200 lbs might not seem prudent during a race where speed is the priority, but it turns out the boys from the provinces just didn’t give a damn. The morning was filled with cheap wine, group jam sessions on traditional Cambodian instruments and of course rice for lunch.

Around 1 oclock we jumped in the boat. I got to paddle for about 30 minutes to the starting line, and then moved to the middle of the boat and let the pros take over when it was game time. These races have been going on in some form for the last millennium. One of the best experiences of my life.

Photo taken by Tracey Shelton

This story is yet to be published. It is about how people get all of their merchandise blessed by monks. Blessings to make moto-bikes safer, make-up more beautiful, cell-phones more conducive to productive conversations etc. etc. While at the pagoda I decided to get a quick blessing to keep my mind in working order. Life seems to be going pretty well ever since.

The shower lasted for 15 minutes. Its tough to remain spiritually minded for that long. I started thinking about how I could be a better man and make the world a better place but eventually started to think about my posture, plans for the evening and lust for ladies, or whatever the hell runs through my mind on a daily basis.

Photo taken by Louise White

Steaming marijuana soup
Sometimes there are more pragmatic reasons for staying out of a story. The ganja is not used as a drug but as an herb, although there are stories that indicate otherwise. I had a great time with Sina, his girlfriend and the Khmer family who welcomed us for dinner and some stories. Did not get high, but left happy nonetheless.

At point guard - baldy - A classic shoot-first floor leader

At shooting guard - Wren aka Muan (chicken) - positivity defined

At small forward - Panha aka Both - like robot for his machine like style of play, or something like that.

At power forward- Bpoo (uncle) - The Robert Parish of Phnom Penh

And at center - Phal Sophors - still a work in progress, but the most promising big man in the Kingdom

Bong Baldy (translated as uncle with small amount of hair), is the back-up point guard for the national team, but I knew him first as the ballinest ball handler out on the streets. Unlike most players, he exclusively wears jerseys, bball shorts and shoes, giving him more instant cred than his bare-footed counterparts, but he can also shoot, pass and dribble pretty well.

He shoots a lot, which is a pain in the ass for two reasons; 1- When there is a breeze blowing over the court, which is fairly often, it is almost impossible to make a shot outside of 5 feet, and 2- I would prefer to be taking those shots.

But for his confidence and awareness on the floor – he gets the starting spot. (I actually prefer the game of the starting point guard on the national team, a 20 year old kinda pudgy fella, but he never plays outside so he’s ineligible for baller status).

SG- Wren

Everyone calls Wren “chicken” because he’s skinny. Haha – assholes. He’s also been playing almost every day since I got to Cambodia and gotten a whole lot better along the way (although my authority on such matters has diminished since I stopped playing on a regular basis for the past few months – in fact my attendance at the court has fallen so far that I almost lost the legitimacy to write this post – but a promise made is a promise kept).

Wren has always been fast, but he used to be fast to no end. Two super fast dribbles past his man, around the oaf near the hoop and then the ball would go flying off the backboard and into that same oaf’s hands. Now he makes at least 20% of those shots, more if there’s no breeze. He has even added a floating jump-shot to his repetoire, which is possibly more difficult to pull off than applying deodorant without any hands.

Wren’s best asset is his attitude. There has never been a time when I pulled up to the court on my moto and he did not shoot an ecstatic smile in my direction. He has based his style around And1 mix-tape tour video’s that he watches on his super fly cell phone – such as this one featuring hot sauce. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HGkJjVqt5sU&feature=related.

For this reason Wren’s game is kind of like a villa without a foundation, it looks nice, even fancy at times, but if he were to go against a decent player he would crumble. He does have really quick hands and gets heaps of steals – but its all relative.

SF- Both

Both is a well-built dude with good speed and strength who has three offensive moves as far as I can tell, all originating from the baseline. He has a decent baseline jumper. Another move where he drives along the baseline for a reverse lay-up and the last one is a drive along the baseline followed by a no look over the shoulder pass.

If your not familiar with basketball, no-look over-the-shoulder passes are similar to handing the ball to your opponent and then giving them a head start on their way to making a lay-up. Why does Both insist on this tactic? I cannot say, but I would suggest he has been spending too much time looking at the screen on Wren’s cell piece.

This hasn’t really been a pitch for why he is an all-star. Both gets some super strong rebounds and makes some aggressive moves to the basket. He is a more worthy foe than most, just plagued by poor decision making. Also has very high potential for defensive greatness but, similar to myself, often chooses to take the opportunity to relax. Sometimes brothas need to chill.

PF- Bpoo

Bright green kneepads take the eyes
Early stages of a comb-over can only be seen from the intimacy of the paint
Whistle in pocket
Thats right a whistle… why?
Because its Phnom Penh… and?
Every pick-up game has a ref … doesn’t that kinda suck?
Yep
But Uncle Green Knees knows the game and he balls
Better than most
Selectively shooting jumpers and
waiting for passing lanes to open with the patience of Siddhartha
A defensive director
Knee pads don’t do much for mobility
I always think that if he lived in America
He would be a sporting goods salesman
I have no idea why

C- Phal Sophors

The starting center for the national team and the narrative center of my article about the team. http://www.phnompenhpost.com/index.php/2009100828796/Sport/cambodian-hoop-dreams.html
If anyone ever says I’m adverse to self promotion please inform them otherwise.

Phal Sophors is the only Cambodian player who has ever been a challenging opponent. He is stronger and faster than me and he outhustles me on the regular. I have only played against him a couple of times. He couldn’t defend me inside and outside, but not many people can to be honest. His footwork is really impressive considering how long he’s been playing – two years – he’s got a lot of skills to refine – shooting dribbling etc. but he plays for hours every day. I look forward to checking out his ballin in the future.

Thats the squad. See them in action any day between 4:30 and sundown on the Olympic Stadium outdoor courts. Apologies for the less than ideal lighting in most of the pictures, but this ain’t the Phnom Penh Post.

-c

http://www.phnompenhpost.com/index.php/2009102829236/Education-and-Career/regulating-the-business-of-teaching-for-tomorrow.html

http://www.phnompenhpost.com/index.php/Special-Supplements/the-wonderland-in-waiting.html

Believe it or not, being a bore is a whole lot more work than writing nonsense blogs.

Still looking to find that balance between PP Post and CRC blog. Also still developing bball blog. Its like development in Phnom Penh, you keep hearing about it but you doubt it will ever happen. It will. It will.

-c

http://ankorcivilization.blogspot.com/2009/10/bringing-teachers-back-home.html

and another one about bball

http://www.phnompenhpost.com/index.php/2009100828796/Sport/cambodian-hoop-dreams.html

I will write regularly on the blog again but I’ve gotta find a balance that is yet to be attained.

I have promised a Phnom Penh starting 5 post and I will follow through. Soon…

please forgive me. And start using google reader if you haven’t already. A great way to consolidate websites of interest.

-colin

Dalene came by my house at 9:30 with her two sisters, brother-in-law and niece, all in an early 90s light-blue Camry. I jumped in next to Dalene in a faux-fetal position behind the driver’s seat. Dalene’s brother-in-law drove through a mid-morning Phnom Penh traffic jam on the way to a pagoda outside of the city. My students had told me that a trip to the Pagoda would last 4-5 hours, so when we arrived at 10:20, I was prepared for a post 2 o’clock departure and a high chance of severe boredom depending how long we had to sit, pray and listen to monks chant. I love the idea of spirituality but in practice it often makes me yawn.

We entered the pagoda auditorium, filled with about 500 people, civilians and monks alike, and each got three sticks of incense. We stood with our hands in prayer in front of gold and stone Buddha sculptures with glowing, electric, technicolor wheels turning behind them. Neon lights, incense, candles, jasmine strung on necklaces and flower sticks and Preah Ang (Buddha) sitting over everything. Dalene told me to think of the names of my ancestors. I ended up thinking a lot about my grandfathers, Ted Withington and Charlie Meyn, and how much work they got done to allow me to be here. I told Dalene about my thoughts and she said “but they aren’t Khmer.” “But they are dead family members.” “That’s true.”

We placed our burning sticks in a bucket filled with sand outside of the temple. Off to the side were piles of incense sticks that had been pulled out of the overpopulated bucket and soaked down to stop the burning. Ancestral memories drowned in plain sight.

Monks were sitting at 10 tables lined up on a slight stage on one side of the Pagoda with people facing them in prayer. The prayer position in this case is like the Indian position with both feet facing to the right or left. Like an M position with one foot in the middle and one foot to the side. Try it out now- if it’s extremely uncomfortable you got it right. The monks would chant and the people would respond. Just as my back and knees began to cramp, Dalene told me we would be praying for 15 more minutes. With the comfort of an end in sight, my body relaxed and my mind was free to join the prayers of the people around me.

At 11, the monks began to eat the vast supply of food that was brought to them by the patrons. Noodles and pork, rice cakes rolled in banana leaves, green tomatoes, oranges, bananas, apple, fried vegetables, pork, beef, chicken, shrimp and fish. I hadn’t eaten breakfast and I wished for the first time, ever so briefly, that I was a monk. As the monks began their feast, we bowed to the old ladies of the monastery, slid on our sandals and walked out of the building. I desperately wanted to take pictures, but I bought some cheap Vietnamese batteries on the road in and they lasted for less than 5 seconds before losing power. This would have been the part of the story where we walked around the Buddhist campus taking pictures, instead we just walk-played, never a disappointment.

We drove on dirt roads to a cousin of Dalene’s brother-in-law. As is usual with my Khmer acquaintances, I don’t know anyone’s name. I called Dalene’s brother-in-law Bong (older brother), and her sisters Bong and Oun (older sister and younger sister). Dalene is Dalene and I called her niece Moli because that’s her name. We stopped briefly at one house where men were seated in a beer drinking circle, and then continued on to the ladies house, where delicious food was already prepared. Everyone else had already eaten but they had planned on out arrival, and within minutes there was a spread of fried chicken, Vietnamese fish soup, noodles with shrimp and pork and my favorite dish to pass on, dried salted fish. I ate 3 bowls of rice and at least half a chicken before throwing in the fork.

Dalene’s brother-in-law was talking about drinking beer as we were leaving the Pagoda two hours earlier and once I finished eating rice he wasted no time in getting me into the car and a couple blocks down the road to the drinking circle. I told Dalene I had no interest in going to a male only party, in fact we talked a lot about how absurd it is that the parties are separated, so she came along, and after a few minutes sitting outside the circle I convinced her to join us and drink a beer.
There was an ugly little fat guy named Sambo who was plastered upon our arrival and proceeded to put on an 80 minute comedy act with a brief respite when he sat down and breathed deeply, clearly on the verge of throwing up his afternoons work. I barely noticed a middle aged lady boy walk up to the house we were seated in front of until Sambo came up to me and whispered in my ear in Khmer “That’s my girlfriend, she’s beautiful no?” Her back was turned and I could only see her long black hair, pink t-shirt and tight white jeans. I humored him and said “yeah, a beautiful girl.” She turned around and I realized it was, in fact, a fairly unattractive man. Dalene leaned over and said “I don’t think that’s a girl.” The whole scene got pretty weird at this point. Sambo pretended to woo the new arrival and wrapped his leg around her. The other men got quite a kick out of this and began to push her onto a wooden bed frame against a wall. It was all in fun, if you had been drinking for the past four hours. Dalene asked if I wanted to return to the Ptea Srey (women’s house) and I jumped at the opportunity.

We walked down the road – our driver stayed back to try to kill a chicken – and arrived at the ladies house with a healthy mid-day sweat dripping down our face. We had been promised a game of cards when we got back. Dalene’s sister went a few houses down and bought some cards, incredibly quickly considering the lack of open shops, and the cards were dealt. The three sisters, myself and an older relative called Ohm (uncle or grandfather, hard to say) sat down on a wooden platform under the house. We each started with a stack of hundred riel notes (worth about 2.5 cents each). We played a game like blackjack where the old man was the house. He won a bunch of money (perhaps a whole dollar) and everyone else went broke. Dalene’s brother-in-law returned from an unsuccessful chicken killing mission (his wife had predicted his failure immediately upon hearing of his intentions) and after a gracious goodbye, we were on our way back home.

On the way home I had a series of flower-stick sword fights with Moli and it ended in her whacking Dalene in the eye, me trying to take the stick when she refused to commence her face attacks and finally her bawling and refusing to talk to me for 10 minutes. We arrived at Dalene’s house and after 10 minutes of watching kick-boxing on her TV, she drove me home on her moto. It was the best holiday I’ve been part of since Khmer New Year last year. Maybe next year, Dalene and I can convince the men, women, boys, girls and those in between to party together. I won’t count on it.

Cheers to your ancestors,

Colin

Here is the school with gigantic windows, I have moved up to the 3rd floor this year. Check out the billboard above the trees.

Hey, is that….?

Awww yeah it is. You know your big when your on a billboard. What’s that you say? I’m still just a lowly ESL teacher. Where’s your billboard? That’s what I thought.

And if you forgot how cute the kids are, heres a picture of LaBelle and Julie, some truly Cambodian names.

I love these kids

Phnom Penh’s starting 5 post still in the works.

-colin

Who's got next? We got room for one more.

That being said, basketball in the city of cell-phone shops does not lack character or characters. In the next post I’m gonna roll out the top 5 ballers in Phnom Penh. I could have rolled them out now, but in the style of any great promoter I’m gonna hold off, plus I only have pictures for three of the dudes so I’ve gotta snap two more before the team is unveiled.

Here’s another picture of Phnom Penh’s basketball mecca, also called Olympic Stadium, to hold you over. The boys here don’t play by the same rules, but the game goes on. Comin back at you with the starting 5 in no time.

The suns goin down on Olympic Stadium but the games won't stop for an hour.

-Colin