I'm very busy

"I'm very busy."

I find this statement humorous after living in Cambodia for a little over 4 months now. Khmer people are very busy all the time. "Busy" is a subjective word and it varies depending on where you are in the world. Well...I'm only guessing this is true. I'm not trying to come off as well-traveled and knowledgable of all cultures because I'm not. I mostly only know my own culture and lifestyle that I lived in the United States.

That being said, I can compare my own idea of "busy" to what I've gathered to be the most common perception of "busy" here in Cambodia. To start things off, here's the definition I thought was most applicable for my analysis:

bus·y [biz-ee] adjective, bus·i·er, bus·i·est, verb, bus·ied, bus·y·ing.
1. Not at leisure; otherwise engaged: He couldn't see any visitors because he was busy.
2. Full of or characterized by activity: a busy life.

As many of you know, I landed in my permanent site (permanent site meaning I'm staying with my host family in this village for my two year PC service unless something awful happens which it won't) on September 9th, 2012. From then on, I was expected to wander over to the Health Center at some point, introduce myself to the staff, and explain in broken Khmer that I'd be working with them for the next two years. SUPER!

Initially, I received a sort of "deer in the headlights" response from the first nurse I approached. Slowly it began to sink in to the staff that they were told about 7 months earlier that a Peace Corps Volunteer would be popping in to help with health education.

Since then, I've only slightly made my presence in the Health Center useful. (The word "useful" is also subjective and losing or flexing in meaning for me the longer I live here.) For 60 days following the official swearing-in ceremony to become a real life Peace Corps Volunteer, I was on my own in the village. I was given very little guidance, "tic-tic" khmer language skills, and had nothing to do but "observe" and "integrate" into my community.

I started out fairly strong with my mission to "observe" and "integrate." I went to the Health Center everyday from 7:30AM to 11:30AM and then again at 1:00PM to about 4:00PM only to find out the first week that going to the HC after lunch was not...really...necessary. I either sat by myself for a good hour or with patients waiting for the real nurses to arrive and until then, was stared at with wonder and amusement. Therefore, I made the decision to only go to the HC in the mornings (7:30AM-11:00AM) and save the afternoons for INTENSE integration into my small community.

Intense is also a subjective word. And believe it or not, I'm shy (GASP! WAH? HUH?!NO! Impossible!!) I'm particularly shy when I don't speak the native tongue very well and I'm funny looking to the native people. Integrating became a challenge for me. It was almost an everyday battle, actually. My bedroom became a protective shell for me that included a fan and unlimited internet access. The best way to get myself to crawl out of my shell was to think of something to buy at the market.

I needed a laundry basket one day and a garbage can another day. And then I needed a broom!
Let me tell you, going to the market is an amazing way to integrate. It takes very little effort on my part. I just walk across the street and automatically have 20 people asking me what I want to buy. "Laura, ting ai?" This is where the charades often come in.

"How is it not obvious that I'm sweeping with an imaginary broom?"

...is what I thought to myself as I stood in front of the 10 vendors trying to play along with my game. One woman handed me a can of Raid (which coincidentally became an imperative purchase the next week.) I was then chauffeured through the market with my new yay friend on a search to find a broom. I finally found one for about 75 cents and proudly showed it off to the ladies at the market afterwards.

It's the little things.

These folks chat with me in the morning before I "nyam cafe takah. I have yet to buy a piglet but it's offered to me everyday.



When my comfort level increased a bit, I started to go to the market with no predetermined purchases to make. This didn't usually get me far. I'd be asked to "on-gooee-layng" or hang out at my coffee place to chat. Doing this would often get me free green Fanta drinks or even slightly alcoholic desserts (that one was weird...)

It also didn't take me long to realize that this chunk of time I dedicated to "integration" was also UNGODLY HOT. It's really. really. really hot in Cambodia. And I'm frightened for my future because it's not even the hot season yet! Hot season begins in April! Holy geez, are you KIDDING ME?!

In turn, it's not unusual for me to cut my "integration" time short and retreat back to my protective shell to nap in front of my fan.

I'm very busy.

My Host dog, Sokee, demonstrating how to appropriately take a "som rak"


It's hard to find things to do at times when structure is nonexistent, as I explained in my previous post. I found this to be ubiquitous amongst my fellow K6 CHE volunteers. We were all fighting constant boredom and feelings of uselessness.

The excessive amount of free time allowed me to read books, write my incredible blog posts, and observe Khmer culture in all it's oddities. And this is where I realized that Khmer people have a very different idea of what "busy" looks like.
Americans are generally overworked and always multitasking. In America, if you're sitting around at home watching Maury in the middle of the day, you are generally considered a lazy slob and need to get off your ass and find a real job. Time is money and if you're not back from your lunch break within the hour (or half hour) you may be penalized!
In Cambodia, everyone basically has a built in 2 hour lunch break/nap time. And that time frame is flexible and definitely not monitored by anyone at all. If you don't show up in the afternoon...it's not really a big deal.

Busy is having more than zero people in the HC at a time. Busy is having perhaps one transaction within a given hour. Busy is taking a little nap in the hammock after eating some sort of root vegetable as a snack. Or as Forrest Gump said it "Busy is as busy does."

The HC getting an overflow of patients.


My 60 days alone at site have passed me by and I am once again reunited with all my fellow K6 volunteers in my provincial town, Takeo. We're currently in the middle of our 14 straight days of in-service-training. In said training, our days are completely scheduled out from morning to evening with language lessons and technical training. It's difficult to find time to even wash our clothes with so much structure! Our brains cannot compute the amount of busy-ness that is now being thrown at us.

"What? No afternoon sweat-nap in front of the fan? But I need my nappy!"

It appears that integration into our communities may have been too successful and may have negatively effected our ability to absorb obscene amounts information in a small amount of time. That's at least how I'm feeling at this moment. It's great to be reunited and all, but why under such dire conditions!?!

Why work gotta be so much work?!

A cow, hard at work.


On the plus side, the K6 volunteers are no longer on "lockdown" and we are now free to travel the country! As long as we TEXT THE DUTY OFFICER. Hooray! I'm a human again! I really wasn't intending on writing so much in this post but word vomit took over. So here's a sunset:

Oh, that's a pretty sunset!


HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE!

Peace, Love, Dove.

I'm Pretty Much Angelina Jolie

Peace Corps is about personal responsibility, accountability, and relying on self initiation.

Making adult decisions when not-so-adult decisions are so tempting and usually much easier to make.

A little over four months in Cambodia, and almost two months into my service, and I've been tested already.

Last weekend, an exciting American holiday was celebrated by people young and old, not only in the US but also Cambodia (among many other countries, I'm sure of it.) Halloween appears to have turned into an adult holiday, no longer set aside for just children to run amuck in their neighborhoods to collect ungodly amounts of candy from strangers. What did our parents always say? Never accept candy from strangers. Halloween is the great exception.

I'm one of those adults who can't grow up and doesn't really want to fully grow up...and I'm one of those guilty adults that LOVES to dress up for Halloween. I love to dress up whenever I damn well feel like it too, but Halloween is a time for me to show off my skills. Costumes. A talent inherited from my mother. Has anyone noticed a trend, btw? My parents are cool people, therefore, I am cool inherently and completely modest.


Lady Gaga inspired me to be a bird once


And now you're asking yourself "what are you getting at, Laura? You always have these backwards intros to yr blog posts and then get to the point after a lot of rambling."
Exactly. That is exactly how I do it.

Last weekend, I made a great "Peace Corps Responsible" decision and did not succumb to the temptations of a Halloween celebration. I, instead, told my counterpart from the Health Center that I would attend her dtaa's (grandfather's) bon k'maoch or funeral party. Initially, I did not know what this would entail and did not realize how much would be expected of me.

Later my counterpart informed me that since her parent's live a little ways out and the party would last a while, it would be an overnight deal. Oh boy. Overnight? In an unknown home? On a weekend where most cool people will be celebrating Halloween dressed like characters such as The Village People or Garth from Wayne's World? (Those were some of my favorite costumes that I saw...)

OH BOY. I had to be strong. Going to the funeral would be an excellent opportunity for me to IRB, or Intentional Relationship Building. (I think that's what it stands for? Essentially it means "Networking") It's just another Peace Corps acronym about not isolating yourself in your room everyday when you could be getting to know the people in your village. And please don't judge me. I may very well be isolating myself as I type this silly blog post right at this very moment but sometimes I just need to take a break from the loudness, the confusion, and the extreme heat-ness that is Cambodia. I hope that's not a crime.

And so, I attended the bon with the knowledge that friends both in Cambodia and America were indulging in the once sugar-induced-childhood-festivity of Halloween. Boo-hoo for me. Right? Ugh...whatever.


Memorial shrine with offerings and incense


Traditionally, guests at a funeral party generally show up, eat noam-men-chop jiamuay tuk curry (Khmer noodles with Curry sauce), give money, talk with the family or friends shortly, and then leave the party. I did not have it easy like the other guests because I went with the family of the deceased and my life was now in their hands for the next 24 hours.


Give your money to the guys under the tent with the microphone, they'll ramble off a khmer something-or-other and then you sompeah (bow)



Rather than spending the obligatory 30 minutes at the funeral, I was there for about 4 hours give or take. Fortunately, I did get to help out quite a bit by clearing tables when guests left and setting the tables for the next surge of guests. However, this process was organized (?) chaos (haven't decided if it was organized or just straight up chaos) as many things are here in S'rot Khmer. I was never really sure how to set the tables so I stuck with what I'm "professionally" trained in. Bussing tables. No matter what I did, it also included an uncomfortable amount of staring from adults and children alike. So many "Chump Reap Suas" or greetings that my words were slurring together by the end of the night. And by the time we left, a hefty sized headache and overall exhaustion.


a crowd of pint-sized gawkers gathering to look at the barang (foreigner)


The headache lingered and haunted me through the night. And to my surprise, we were to return to the party first thing in the morning, at 6AM. Here we go again!

This part of the funeral was more intimate, more ceremonial - including 6 monks, a lot of yays, praying, and offerings to the monks.


Hanging out yays will put a smile on anyone's face.


The most difficult part of the weekend, other than the Khmer language and culture hangover, was being put on the spot and treated differently because I am a foreigner. Once again, I was the token foreigner and it meant that I was given tasks that any other khmer guest would not be expected to do.

I understood the reasoning for this. Khmer people are incredibly kind and great hosts. They want their guests to feel special. And they LOVE foreigners. So much so that, at times, I feel like the general rules of respect are somewhat skewed when it comes to foreigners. I was asked to participate in several activities while the family was praying with the monks. I took a bowl full of rice and spooned it in to 5 different urns set in front of the monks. I was asked to sit at the front with the immediate family by the man holding the microphone. (That man holding the microphone, as wonderful as he was, could not stop mentioning the American to everyone arriving to the party.) I was then given a large bag of more rice and fruit to hand to the head monk. This made me feel especially uncomfortable because I felt like I was being treated like a family member even though I obviously was not. I never even knew the man that had passed.

I'm in this country to learn how the Khmer people live, eat, and socialize but since I'm different, Khmer people usually want to treat me differently. They want to go out of their way to give me things that I want. But all I really want is to be treated like everyone else. I want to eat what they usually eat. I want to just sit around and hang out like they usually do. I don't want to be a spectacle. We all know that I often choose to make myself a spectacle...but it's amazingly uncomfortable when it's not my decision to be put out there as entertainment.

After I awkwardly handed the head monk the offering, he asked me a couple of questions. The questions I generally get from people here - "where I'm from, how long I've been here, and how long I will be here." The monks made me feel a little more at ease but I went back to my seat amongst the yays as soon as possible. I had a little rush of emotions and almost started crying right there. With the lack of sleep, headache, and awkward situation, I was at the breaking point.

I held it together. And my counterparts mother adorably said "Schank you" to me when I sat down next to her. I was then soothed by the hypnotizing chant of the monks. I could listen to the monks chanting to fall asleep at night. It's a common sound heard throughout Cambodia; often put on loudspeakers for all the countryside to hear.

And then my mind began to wander. Like, seriously wander. I thought of none other than Angelina Jolie. It's especially odd because I am not a fan of Angelina Jolie. I think she's kinda a phony to tell the truth but she's been in Cambodia. She has a mullet-headed little boy, Maddox, that she adopted from this country. I wondered to myself "How would Angelina Jolie react in a situation such as this? Probably with the grace of any actress trained to be in front of millions of staring eyes." But then I thought better. "Wait, no! Angelia Jolie probably had her very own personal translator and team of professional Khmer culture experts dictating or more so directing her every movement. Because she's an actress for crying out loud! She's not that great! I'm doing this the hard way and Angelina Jolie's experience in Cambodia will never compare to my experience. No matter how many Cambodian babies she steals!!!


Oh, just a little artistic appropriation. I'm aware that this is severely creepy.


To top it off, I watched this video about Angelina's life changing experience in Cambodia in which she talks to herself in the middle of the jungle. It really captures the beauty of the country but also doesn't really say anything about the country. And then it's capped off with the god awful photo-shoot of the above Louis Vuitton advertisement. Way to be, Angelina. Way to be.

And I'm out.