22''w x 27''h

These are the dimensions of my Swiss Army suitcase. It's been jeeringly watching as I try to squeeze 6 months of my life into a small rectangle. It seems to be taunting me in a low whisper, "You're never gonna fit it all, never gonna fit it all..."

Well that certainly may be the case, but is it my fault that stacked-heel knee-high boots are so alla moda this year? And all those thick knit tights really don't shrink much! Throw in a few chunky sweaters and my essential Bullwinkle hat and it's full.

So how exactly does one downsize their life? Well, "function over fashion" seems to be key, although I don't know if that rule holds water when you're moving to one of the most fashionable countries in the world? In any case, here are the paramaters I've set for myself:

1. Coordinate outfits that are versatile for day and night and select colors that all blend.

2. Keep accessories to a minimum.

3. Toiletries and cosmetics can be purchased abroad so only shop for things that cannot be found in Italy and seal EVERYTHING in plastic. There's nothing worse than opening a bag after 10 hours to find your wool blazer covered in toothpaste.

4. Don't forget to pack teaching tools! Board games, magazines, newspaper clippings, post cards, dice, puzzles - they all come in handy when planning English lessons. The kids went crazy this summer for Scattegories and loved reading the mags I brought.

5. Pack a collapsible duffle bag for the return journey so I can bring back extra virgin olive oil in abundance.

Wish me luck!

Tales of Chong Khneas

Some critics say that the Chong Khneas floating village has been overtaken by tourists and vendors. While there is a strong presence of both, the village of Khmer and Vietnemese families is vibrant, welcoming, and conveniently only 10km from Siam Reap.

We arrived to Chong Khneas early in the morning, but the dock on the Tonlé Sap Lake was already bustling with movement; fisherman with their first catch, children selling trinkets and hungry tour guides waiting for the next batch of Westerners to arrive. Our tuk-tuk driver, Than, bid us farewell as he tended to his tuk-tuk with a feather duster.

Alby, Marco and I boarded a bright blue river boat with our new guide, a young Khmer man who spoke English better than most of my Italian students. Our first encounter: a traffic jam that rivaled Manhattan at rush hour. Reason for the congestion? A village house was on the move, taking up the entire waterway as it was towed upstream. Our guide told us that during the height of monsoon season the entire village migrates to the higher, drier inland areas.
Our guide had a knack for storytelling . I listened to the tragic tales of his brother's death at sea, his arm-less father's fishing accident, his blind mother, and his struggle to single-handedly fund the education of his 7 brothers and sisters. I played my most sympathetic violin symphony for his woeful misfortune. I even shed a tear. Then he kindly requested that we give generous tips at the conclusion of our journey, at which point I realized the heaping pile of BS I was being served and peeked my head into the window of the colorful hut we were passing.

A floating school...in session. Lesson of the day: English! I tried to linger inconspicuously and spy on the class, but to no avail. The curious children were fixated on my camera. Realizing the disruptiveness of my large American head in the window, I snapped one final photos and floated on.