Win: Critter Catcher Extrordinaire

I am the proud girlfriend of a creature catcher. Bugs, frogs, lizards, fish -- you name it, he can most likely catch it. And if he can’t, it won’t be for a lack of trying. He even once was part of a project to build a fly-powered airplane, which, as one can imagine, involved capturing a whole herd of flies.

In any batch of Rachel-taken pictures, we end up with a minimum of one picture in which Win has captured an unwitting animal. He stalks, swivels, and hedges them in, just for the fun of it. From my end, there’s something really curious about seeing something so tiny and foreign so close up. Always released in one piece (although sometimes flash-dazed), the critters then hop, skitter and slip away to resume their lives. 

It’s a bizarre talent but delightful nonetheless. I mean, honestly, there’s something magical about a whispered “Hey, I got you something” referring to a momentarily still butterfly.

Creativity Nurtured

At the end of our Cambodia excursion, we decided to go to Battambang. Cambodia’s second largest city, though by no means actually a large city, Battambang isn’t exactly jam-packed with sights and activities. But, our aim was mostly to relax and spend as little money as possible before heading back into Thailand. However, fliers for the local circus certainly caught our eye; knowing that the circus was also a school for children made the money worth spending. 

Phare Ponleu Selpak, meaning “the brightness of art,” is a Cambodian NGO aimed at helping the children of Cambodia with education, life skills, as well as creative and performance skills through their art centers. Originally opened at a refugee camp near the Thai border in the 80s, PPS began as a way to help children deal with the psychological impact of war. They then moved to their current locale in Battambang and continued their efforts, as well as opened a public school, a circus school, and housing for children who were victims of child trafficking, poverty, street begging and the like. The organization helps to renew Cambodian culture through its children, and to foster learning on an individual level. 

We opted to go during their Community Day, a showcase of all things PPS, rather than simply paying to see only the circus. The event was promoting a coffee table book published by one of their circus troupes that was about to go on a European tour. The books, while beautiful, were expensive by Southeast Asian standards. At $1 a glass, the beer was more reasonable, so we did our part to contribute financially. 

Scattered about the grounds, children worked on drawings and watercolors, set up easels for paintings, and paper-maché’d masks. The public school got out of session around 4 pm and throngs of elementary children flooded the area around the arts buildings. As the only foreigners, we stood out from, as well as towered over, everyone there. This distinction also meant we were the proud recipients of limitless high fives and hellos.

There was a toddler fashion show, a live painting, and a break dance performance. The circus school was open for spectators, red, yellow, and blue mats lining the floors. We took off our shoes and watched them flip, spin and fly, contort and bend, juggle and climb. They balanced, lifted, and actrobatted. It was more diverse than an entire circus, and all happening simultaneously.

Before the actual circus performance, they had live ice painting, pretty much the last medium you would expect to see in Cambodia. By layering color after color of paint across the tops of large blocks of ice, the blocks began to slowly melt away. Very slowly. As it did, the paint seeped into cracks, gaps, and little tunnels in the ice, slowly causing elaborate designs to spider through the clear white ice. 

Eventually it was time for the circus, and we filed into the tent. Seats were full, so we stood off to the side, children seated around our feet, perched and leaning for a better view. The performers clowned, tightrope walked and unicycled to the delight of the audience. But in the late afternoon, the heat under the big top became stifling, driving us out before the performance was over. Having seen the full showcase of the day, the circus wasn’t the main event anymore. Missing a little of it was okay. Not only did we feel good about where our money was going, but we were excited to get back to teaching and spending all of our time playing with kids.

Yet Another Empowering Experience Brought to You by Your Loving Boyfriend

Win takes incredible photographs. Before coming to Thailand, we made a joint investment in a digital SLR. It wasn’t the most expensive one on the market, but it has proven itself to be a worthy purchase. It is wonderful traveling with a boyfriend who not only loves taking pictures, but also has such a remarkable eye for it. It is, in a word, intimidating. I love playing with the camera, but I never feel like my pictures are up to snuff. (Although in the past couple month, more and more of my pictures have snuck their way into Win’s albums.)

Win is always encouraging me to go ahead and take over on camera duty, but sometimes I feel that it’s best to just leave it to him. However, since he had not only been to Angkor Wat before, but already has numerous pictures of it, I was given three days of full camera privileges. 

And what a three days it was. We scampered, climbed, and explored ruins overrun by the ferocity of mother nature. Trees, vines, and roots pushed and pulled at the temple walls, greenery making the most of any foothold. When all was said and done, we ended up with almost 1500 pictures (digital is such a blessing), which we whittled down to 200. And I’d say that my pictures aren’t half bad. Now we just have to decide who gets to play with the camera when we go out.

 

Like Painted Lace

The Angkor Butterfly Center is a tiny place just near the ever more popular Landmine Museum. After seeing numerous war-based museums all over Vietnam and Cambodia, the choice was easy. I wanted to see pretty things, dammit. 

For a $4 entrance fee, we were given a personal tour by one of the staff, as well as peace of mind. The center functions not only as a way for tourists to see the local butterfly varieties, but also as a way to give supplemental money to local farmers. For each cocoon or caterpillar they bring in, they receive between 600 and 2,000 riel (about 15 to 50 cents), depending on the species. The center also ships some cocoons to Holland (apparently they love their butterflies like they love their tulips), for which the farmers are paid a higher rate. Not surprisingly, cocoons come in by the dozens. 

Caterpillar to cocoon to butterfly – all stages were represented in a multitude of colors and sizes. A month-old giant moth hid inside the caterpillar room, tattered and torn. Fragile like antique lace. An individual butterfly lives between one and two weeks; a lifespan that makes them seem all the more delicate. 

Throughout the year, our tour guide told us, they house a total of around 40 species, running the color spectrum – oranges, yellows, neon blues, lime greens. Stripes and spots of limitless detail covered wings. On the day we were there around 15 varieties were flitting about, landing on flowering reds and magentas. Spindly legs gripped leaves. Black, red, white, they drifted by on the breeze, lazy in the midday heat.