CAMBODIA - Phnom Penh (Saturday 7th April, 6.00pm)

"Katie, what are you doing in the Russian Embassy? Why didn't you call me when you got off the bus?"
Good bloody question. In a moment of stubborn independence, I decided to make my way to the Seametrey School all by myself. I soon abandoned my tuk-tuk, who clearly had no idea where he was going. The idea that I could do better than him suggests a seriously misplaced confidence in my sense of direction and the chaotically ordered street numbers. The website informed me that the school was close to the Monument of Independence and by the Russian Embassy. Having found the Monument, I then wandered around for 2 hours looking for the Embassy, eyed with curious amusement by the locals as I tramped up and down in the blistering heat with my rucksack getting heavier by the second.
Eventually I was driven to the Embassy by an obliging bus driver, on the back of his moped and the guards emitted me because they could not work out for the life of them what I was talking about. A stern Russian woman questioned me before sending me off to a school round the back where another stern Russian man took me into a side room and asked what he could do for me. At this point I surrendered and sheepishly asked to use their phone before I was imprisoned as a spy.
I was met by Puthy, outside the front of the Embassy and taken the 2 minutes up the road to Seametrey School into which I stumbled, gasping for water, and was told that it was closed until the 17th of April. Argh!
So out of my 4 weeks work, I'll spend 2 of them exploring Siem Reap and cavorting merrily in Phnom Penh with the other New Years revelers. Hmmmm.
Still, it is amazing to unpack and I have a lovely little room, that as of tomorrow, I'll share with another redundant volunteer, and a little kitchen where I can cook, if I can remember how.
I met a few members of staff and 2 little girls with very good English are delighted to have another good natured volunteer to torment.
The school is very much in the midst of development with builders busy all over the place. The main building acts as the school, home of Muoy, the owner of Seametrey, and her husband Khin, and the volunteers' dorms and common room. Khin greeted me and showed me my room before scampering back upstairs, where he spends most of the day, apparently, painting bizarre reproductions of classics. The Mona Lisa sneered at me from one canvas sitting next to a peculiar ghostly figure wrapped in bandages.
I also met Goran, a Swedish volunteer who has been working at Seametrey for almost 6 months and has the weary air of a westerner who has been banging his head against the brick wall of Asian inefficiency for some time. He took me along the river front to the latest Seametrey venture, a floating restaurant which, they hope, will provide an additional income for the school. The sole diners, we had an excellent dinner served to us by two shy young Khmers, one guy, one girl, who beamed at us and giggled good naturedly along with Goran, who is their supervisor and much valued English teacher.
By 8.30 the travelling, the two hour tramp about in the hot sun, and the Angkor beer caught up with me and I was escorted to a moto and swept home where I fell into bed.
A grim day ahead of me...