It’s hard out here for a pimp. In Cambodia, there is a great deal of talk about gangsters. Many people fear them. I laugh at them. When we think of gangsters, we think of people, who, well, actually belong to gangs for one thing. We think of people who sell drugs and commit violent crimes. You know what gangsters do here? Wear earrings. Oh yes friends. They’re bad. Sometimes they steal lunch money from little kids. But that is the extent of their criminal activities. Having “unusual” hair and wearing earrings are enough to make a boy a gangster. Basically gangster means punk. If a boy is rude, someone might call him a gangster. I, on the other hand, like to make fun of them. I have tried to explain the concept of real “gangsters” to people, and they are very surprised to learn that America has people this bad. “Ko’it” is the word used to describe people who commit serious crimes. It literally means broken. I was having dinner at a friends house the other night, and she was reading the paper to me, telling me about all of the atrocious crimes committed in the past month. She said “Kampuchea ko’it”, Cambodia is broken. It kind of struck me on a much deeper level than she meant. A few minutes before her friend, a woman in her mid forties, told me that she was illiterate. During the Pol Pot regime, there were no schools. Everyone had to work. In asking a little more, I learned that many people their age can’t read or write. I never cease to be amazed at how the scars from years past just kind of lie hidden. Looking at the country, one wouldn’t guess the horror that went on here. The wounds are healing, but the scars remain. Sometimes its startling.

On a completely unrelated note, should the planet ever be attacked by fierce aliens, rest assured that I am in good hands. The faculty at my school can beat down any aliens that the “Alien Shooter” computer game can throw at them. Yesterday I walked into the teachers’ lounge to soft Khmer music playing while three of them were talking excitedly about all the blood. Woot.

Also, today I rode my bike to my provincial town. I’m excited. While a taxi is much easier, the bike ride was free and it gave me a sense of accomplishment. So I ate a hamburger and some ice cream. Then I will bike back home. It is a little less than two hours by bike, so I’ll have had plenty of exercise for today. That is pretty much it for exciting news.

I will be spending Thanksgiving in Krakor, about an hour away from the provincial town. The volunteer who lives there has his own kitchen. The three of us will make chicken and mashed potatoes. Yummy. PC is also sending us to Battambang for “language training” in a couple weeks, which I don’t really understand. I can’t imagine what we could possibly learn in an afternoon in BB that we couldn’t learn at site. But it means PC pays for me to go to Battambang, so I’m not complaining.

Site is still cool. There’s an awesome NGO that works with agriculture and AIDS education. A lot of my students hang out there, and I’ve made friends with some of the staff. So that is promising for future projects. I’m still missing everyone very much, but I do think I have the best job ever, despite its many complications.

Mom, I told you wrong, I got Maw-Maw’s box instead of yours. I also got Nanny Jan’s card. Thanks to all!