The rainy season is here and the Mekong river is rising. It's gone up about a foot since we got here. Considering that the river is as wide as the Mississippi, a one foot rise is a ton of water. The Mekong starts in the Mountains of Tibet, brushes by Myanmar, then winds through Laos, Thailand, Cambodia and Viet Nam - where it exits into the South China sea. Our morning walks/runs are gorgeous as we traipse along the river's edge. The city is making a major effort to keep the "river walk" clean. Workers are out early pulling weeds from the paver cracks and sweeping litter from the curbs and walk ways. Other workmen are busy building "sea wall" foundations - so the river walk can be extended. Family fishermen troll the waters then deliver their small catches (usually 3-4 fish at a time) to waiting motos - who take the live fish to the market. At the market, the fish are placed in water tubs where they remain active until purchased.

 

The rainy season is also the life blood of the rice fields. Most are now planted and thriving with the daily downpours. As we drove to Kampong Thom on Tuesday (a small city about 2 hours away) we passed through thousands of acres of rice seedlings growing among occasional coconut palms. The native beauty of this impoverished nation makes up for the inconveniences of 3rd world living.

At Kampong Thom we did our first apartment inspection for the four Elder missionaries in the town. They were supposed to know we were coming, but apparently the communication stream didn't make it to the end of the paddy. The apartment was remarkably clean - considering we caught them unawares. And we also saw fitness ingenuity at its best (the makeshift bar bells).

The next day we paid a cordial visit to the Kampong Cham Province police commissioner. We felt it would be good for him to know we were in town (he knew) and to do some major kissing up in case any of the missionaries had an "issue" in the future. He reassured us that foreigners were safe in his city and gave us his gold-glittered business card with his personal number on it, in case we had any problems (the country loves glittery stuff). Always good to have the law on your side.

Our biggest sacrifice so far - outside of leaving our children and grand children - has been sitting on concrete, wood or dirt for hours at a time. Maybe when we were younger (a LOT younger) we could have done this without difficulty. Butt not now (we thought our bummer years were behind us). It's like we've transferred all our fanny fat to other places - leaving old bones to groan on wooden planks or concrete tile. The bookend to the experience is getting up after lesson sessions.  We wobble upright on sleepy feet and creaky joints. We look like newborn giraffes taking their first steps.

Our favorite experience of the week was teaching the local Khlmaes how to sing "She'll be comin' round the mountain" during English class - complete with hand actions and sounds. They have no context for a mountain or large white horses. But they CLEARLY understand killing a chicken for dinner. It was a lot of fun.