It was an unusual weekend for me in the village. Two volunteers visited me and spent the night; it was a good ol' fashioned sleepover. We stayed up late (extremely late for PCVs – 11PM) and talked about boys, spouted profound affirmations, and giggled with exhaustion. It's incredible how much more enjoyable the village can be with friends.
The next morning we roused early, ate a delicious noodle breakfast and biked to another volunteer's village – the village I hit up quite often to hang out with PCV and my friend Stacy and take advantage of “free” wifi. We spent many hours internetting, finally moving from our uncomfortable seats in order to feed our perpetually hungry bellies. We wandered the market to find an appetizing meal and all agreed that we wanted to eat something and somewhere that would possibly minimize or at least not increase our sweating. It was unseasonably hot this day – “it's supposed to be WINTER in Cambodia, why is it hot as balls?” we cried out. Winter is all relative. After being in Cambodia for this long, I can honestly say that I get legitimately cold in weather below 75º now. This is an embarrassing fact considering my extremely deep Minnesotan roots and high tolerance for cold temperatures. That's besides the point though – we were hot and whiney.
This is what "winter" in Cambodia looks like
We ate more delicious noodles along with unidentifiable dumpling-type-things (I call them this because I always forget what they are called) that were not cooked all the way through. We ate 'em anyway.
We met up with more volunteers from around the area and found more things to eat but specifically REAL CHOCOLATE. And regardless of our fullness, we ate entire bars of chocolate (with almonds!) because we are predisposed to chocolate deficiencies here. It's much safer to induce pain in our fragile bodies by overeating than it is to risk not eating chocolate. The availability of chocolate is just too uncertain in these dark times.
This is what PCVs look like when they find delicious food.
And the day went on a lot like this, traveling from one spot to the next finding more food throughout the journey. I grew weary and felt the comfort of my own bedroom beckoning me. It's strange to me how I can spend so much of my time alone and yearning for the company of a friend, especially a friend that speaks clear English, and once I have said company, I still eventually get tired and need to retreat back to my restorative niche. And so I bicycled my way back home, cursing my bike the whole way because it is in serious need of a tune-up and not my half-assed version of a tune-up that entails spraying excessive amounts of lube on the chain...I may enjoy biking but I have never claimed to have any knowledge in the realm of bicycle maintenance. So sue me!
Once I made it home, I sprawled out like a starfish (technically they are now called sea-stars because they are not really fish) on my bedroom floor and let my fan hail down on me at level 3. After about an hour of this, I finally mustered up the motivation to take a shower. Due to excessive sweating and other contributing factors (i.e. stress, hygienic habits, etc) PCVs often acquire a propensity to smell of a rather potent fragrance. Unfortunately, some PCVs resolve to abstain from showering, especially in the “WINTERTIME” due to lack of hot water. I may or may not be one of those volunteers.
Mid-shower, my host brother Theva calls for me. He says we are going to Chhuk, AI-LO-NEE (NOW.) Chhuk is a larger town about 18k from my house and “we” have never gone there before (“we” as in the family.) And of course we are going AI-LO-NEE, it wouldn't be Cambodia if they gave me 30 minutes to dry off, put clothes on, and get somewhat decent before going out in public. Luckily I don't need 30 minutes (but it would be nice to get a little more warning...) I threw on some clothes and awkwardly wandered around the house until my host mom affirmed that we were indeed going AI-LO-NEE. NOW. NOW!
This is how my hair looks EVERYDAY! Without showering!
We all walk across the street together, pile into the back of my host uncle's truck (all 12 of us) and fly off to Chhuk to treat ourselves. This is the third time I have gone to a restaurant with my host family in the 15+ months I have lived with them. This is pretty special. At this point, there are now approximately 20 of us, with 5 tables pushed together to accommodate our rowdy group. They put in 5 orders of “Cow Climbs the Mountain”, which I'd never eaten before. Five individual burners were brought out, then 5 plates of raw beef, then plates of veggies. I tried not to think too much about the plates of raw beef (how long have these plates of raw beef been sitting out? Where was the beef before it was on the plate? Is there a fridge back there? Etc, etc.) I have never been terribly picky about food and I figure most things won't kill me so I just go with the flow. The burners are lit and we start laying down the “cow” on the “mountain.” This is fun! You get to cook your own meat! And they used BUTTER! In America, I avoided butter most of the time but butter is hard to come by in these parts so I was a little excited. My first taste of an adequately cooked piece of beef was incredible. Thanks to the butter it tasted like American. It was a glorious moment for my tongue and brain.
More plates of raw beef were hauled out, more beef was cooked to perfection, or overcooked – whatever! Then plates of cow stomach were brought out. Not for cooking purposes, just to eat as is. (I'm guessing the cow stomach was boiled? I'm still alive so whatever.) Cow stomach is not my thing. The texture of cow stomach is like something you'd pull out of the coral reef. Looks like a flesh colored sea anemone. It's chewy, too chewy. I couldn't NOT think about cow stomach when I was eating it no matter how much sauce I slathered it in. So I ended that adventure promptly.
Oh, did I mention there was beer drinking? Yes, more Angkor beer but this time it was in real BOTTLES. This was truly a novel experience for me. My host mom was endearingly drunk after one glass, as per usual, and did silly things. She started pouring ice water into one of the burners, regardless of her sister-in-law telling her she shouldn't and the burner started smoking. My host mom laughed and said “Oh, khnom pleuch” (I forgot.)
Cambodia when it starts to get quiet....maybe...sometimes.
Bottles and bottles of Angkor beer were consumed, glasses were clinked numerous times, and the food kept coming. Luckily I was on the end of the table, the perfect place for people watching. I quietly observed everyone's interactions with each other, they laughed at each other, made fun of each other, and were all in all happy together. The more “srah-veung” (drunk) I got the more I just wanted to hug everyone. However, hugging isn't really customary here and it would be especially weird for me to do it in these circumstances. I am a hugger and even more deficient in hugging and affection than I am with chocolate.
And then I hit a point where I became sad and envious of all these people that have their family so close at hand. I'm not sure if they can completely understand what it's like for me to be so far away from all my friends and family. I tried to just be happy for them but I felt very alone even while surrounded by 20 fairly gregarious and smiley people. I let myself sink into thought too much and tears snuck out of my eyes. And the world kind of swirled around me.
Luckily it was time to hit the road again and I was knocked out of my spell.
This time on the way back home, my friend Saa and I got to stand up in the back of the truck with our hands resting on the cab, looking straight out at the road ahead of us. The wind whipped my hair all around me and dried my eyes. I stopped thinking too much and just let myself enjoy the quiet beauty of night in Cambodia. And to think I was ready to hide out in my room all alone just hours before that moment.
This is exactly what I looked like!
December 20, 2013
November 24, 2013
BOOK REPORT #2
Dudes,
Do you ever get introduced to a book, read the first page, and thereupon tear through the pages like it's a bar of fancy chocolate? (mmmmmm...fancy chocolate...)
I've been on a nonfiction kick for the last couple of weeks. For some reason, the idea of reading about fictional characters right now is a big turn off for me. I've got enough stuff going on in my life and rattling around in my head right now that's stranger than fiction. Why should I invest more precious brain juices on those characters? Why not suck up some real earth knowledges? Yes.....earthly earth knowledge sounds delicious right about now.
So anyway, back to the books. I had a makeshift two-person book club going for a month or so, which has since dismantled (story of my life right now. Everything's falling apart!!!! Me, dramatic?) For our second book in our book club, I chose the The Omnivore's Dilemma by Michael Pollan. He writes primarily about food (which (reading about food) can be detrimental to the mental health of any Peace Corps Volunteer, by the way.) Another book of his that I read years ago was The Botany of Desire, in which he explores the beneficial relationship (co-dependent?) between humans and four specific plants: apples, tulips, marijuana, and potatoes.
You like food? READ THIS!
What I loved about The Omnivore's Dilemma was Pollan's personal experience throughout his journey into the world of different food industries and food-life philosophies. The first part goes into the dark, dingy depths of the corn industry of America. Man, I love corn. But in a very different way than you'd expect. The only way I really like to eat corn is raw (DON'T KNOCK IT TILL YOU TRY IT!) But what I really REALLY love about corn is it's history in America and how it grows. I had a cornucopia of corn knowledge prior to reading this book due to one of my favorite people in the Universe, Jeffry Nistler.
This is Jeff rocking not one but TWO man-purses (the top one MIGHT be a camera bag...)
Jeff is, among many other talents, a farmer and I was lucky enough to work for him for 8 years (hopefully he'll take me back when I'm an unemployed returned peace corps volunteer.) I was a farm hand; especially skilled at hoeing and transplanting melons. Jeff's specialty is sweet corn in the summertime, pumpkins and squash (among other curious gourds) in the fall-time, trees in the wintertime, and exploring Peru in the dead of wintertime. He also builds bikes!
Not sure who is enlightening who here: Jeff on the left. That other guy with the cane is awesome.
And so it was Jeff who instilled me with a great many nuggets of corn facts. This is why I am now proud to call myself a corn snob. But the corn that Jeff grows is different than the corn Pollan highlights in the first part of his book. He attempts to follow corn from a farm in Iowa to one of the many places it could be taken throughout America - from feedlots (or CAFOs: Concentrated Animal Feeding Operations) in Kansas all the way to a McDonald's in Marin County California. Basically, this corn that Pollan is talking about is feeding most Americans unknowingly. Example: a McDonald's chicken nugget (mmmmmm chicken nuggets) has 38 ingredients, 13 of which are differently processed versions of corn. (mmmmmmmm...?)
After he tears the industrialized food industry a new one, he moves on to the "ORGANIC" food industry. And this part just makes me giddy because organic food truly is an industry which is completely contradictory of what the Organic food people are constantly preaching. I understand what organic food is attempting to say and do but how they end up doing it is not by definition organic. There are just TOO many people in America trying to be organic at the same time. So get off your high horse. You're not better than everyone else if you eat organic sausages or granola cereal. And then there's thing thing called "Beyond Organic" which is really what Organic wishes it could be. Just read the damn book and you'll know what I'm talking about.
The last meal Pollan explores is that of a hunter-gatherer which was by far my favorite of his adventures. He killed a wild boar in California which was one of his first experiences hunting. He went morel mushroom hunting with a bunch of weird dudes in a forest. He usufruct some cherries to make a dessert. Can I go back to America and live as a hunter-gatherer? Do I know anyone that knows how to identify mushrooms? If so, please speak up! Teach me your ways.
If you care at all about what you eat (where it comes from and how it is what it is) you should read The Omnivore's Dilemma. But don't take my word for it!!! #READING RAINBOW.
QUIET: Hard thing to come by in Cambodia.
On to the next one, on the the next one: before I let my mind slip into complete malaise, I zapped my next book into motion on my fancy little nook e-reader thingy (thanks mom and dad.) Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that Can't Stop Talking by Susan Cain (my new best friend.) My friend and old co-worker Elliott (Read about him here!) gave me his copy when he finished it last year but I didn't have enough time to read it before flying away on an aeroplane to Cambodia. So I downloaded a copy from the mighty interwebs (completely legally; bought and paid for.)
"Restorative Niche": my bedroom in a South Minneapolis basement.
I couldn't put this book down and the best part was, I didn't want to leave my room or my other secret reading nook while reading it. I needed to be alone! I was learning about myself and needed to pay close attention. If you've been an avid "Laurax Doodles in Khmer" reader then you'd know that I've struggled a bit with the "Who Am I?" question, feel guilt-ridden when I hermit myself too much, and feel too much pressure in the spotlight at times. In certain chapters I felt like I was reading about myself!
The book is about 300 pages and I highlighted it 92 different times (awesome feature of the nook)! Here are some highlighted highlights:
This book helped me realize that I am not totally whacked out. That maybe the things I do are more normal than I thought they were. It also made me realize why I oftentimes feel completely overwhelmed in my village. Like I've said before, PCVs are "on duty" the moment they walk out of their bedroom and that can be draining when it's every single day, especially for someone with introverted tendencies. There aren't many "restorative niches" or quiet places to re-energize. I think, with confirmation from this book, there are many people that struggle to understand who they truly are. We try to put ourselves in to boxes; extrovert-introvert, outgoing-reserved, etc etc, but we don't have to be one or the other and we really can't be. It's just not possible. I've spent a lot of my life trying to be what people want me to be. One thing that makes me happier than anything is to make other people happy; but my misstep here was not taking care of myself first. I didn't recognize when I needed to disappear and find my "restorative niche" so I too could be happy.
One of my "Restorative Niches": My desk back home. Cluttered and yet so peaceful. Look! I'm on Facebook. Lolz.
You don't have to be introverted to read Quiet. If anything, it just makes you think about what makes you happiest and how knowing that can lead you to a life where you are truer to yourself. Or as Shakespeare once said (according to the book) "To thine own self be true."
Another "Restorative Niche": solo walks in Minneapolis
My current mission(book): Packing for Mars: The Curious Science of Life in the Void by Mary Roach. This lady is HI-Larious. Laughing out loud over here. I also read Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers by Mary Roach. I want to be this lady's friend also.
Packing for Mars: puking in zero-gravity and shit. Good stuff.
Read on, friends. READ. To infinity and beyond.
Do you ever get introduced to a book, read the first page, and thereupon tear through the pages like it's a bar of fancy chocolate? (mmmmmm...fancy chocolate...)
I've been on a nonfiction kick for the last couple of weeks. For some reason, the idea of reading about fictional characters right now is a big turn off for me. I've got enough stuff going on in my life and rattling around in my head right now that's stranger than fiction. Why should I invest more precious brain juices on those characters? Why not suck up some real earth knowledges? Yes.....earthly earth knowledge sounds delicious right about now.
So anyway, back to the books. I had a makeshift two-person book club going for a month or so, which has since dismantled (story of my life right now. Everything's falling apart!!!! Me, dramatic?) For our second book in our book club, I chose the The Omnivore's Dilemma by Michael Pollan. He writes primarily about food (which (reading about food) can be detrimental to the mental health of any Peace Corps Volunteer, by the way.) Another book of his that I read years ago was The Botany of Desire, in which he explores the beneficial relationship (co-dependent?) between humans and four specific plants: apples, tulips, marijuana, and potatoes.
You like food? READ THIS!
What I loved about The Omnivore's Dilemma was Pollan's personal experience throughout his journey into the world of different food industries and food-life philosophies. The first part goes into the dark, dingy depths of the corn industry of America. Man, I love corn. But in a very different way than you'd expect. The only way I really like to eat corn is raw (DON'T KNOCK IT TILL YOU TRY IT!) But what I really REALLY love about corn is it's history in America and how it grows. I had a cornucopia of corn knowledge prior to reading this book due to one of my favorite people in the Universe, Jeffry Nistler.
This is Jeff rocking not one but TWO man-purses (the top one MIGHT be a camera bag...)
Jeff is, among many other talents, a farmer and I was lucky enough to work for him for 8 years (hopefully he'll take me back when I'm an unemployed returned peace corps volunteer.) I was a farm hand; especially skilled at hoeing and transplanting melons. Jeff's specialty is sweet corn in the summertime, pumpkins and squash (among other curious gourds) in the fall-time, trees in the wintertime, and exploring Peru in the dead of wintertime. He also builds bikes!
Not sure who is enlightening who here: Jeff on the left. That other guy with the cane is awesome.
And so it was Jeff who instilled me with a great many nuggets of corn facts. This is why I am now proud to call myself a corn snob. But the corn that Jeff grows is different than the corn Pollan highlights in the first part of his book. He attempts to follow corn from a farm in Iowa to one of the many places it could be taken throughout America - from feedlots (or CAFOs: Concentrated Animal Feeding Operations) in Kansas all the way to a McDonald's in Marin County California. Basically, this corn that Pollan is talking about is feeding most Americans unknowingly. Example: a McDonald's chicken nugget (mmmmmm chicken nuggets) has 38 ingredients, 13 of which are differently processed versions of corn. (mmmmmmmm...?)
After he tears the industrialized food industry a new one, he moves on to the "ORGANIC" food industry. And this part just makes me giddy because organic food truly is an industry which is completely contradictory of what the Organic food people are constantly preaching. I understand what organic food is attempting to say and do but how they end up doing it is not by definition organic. There are just TOO many people in America trying to be organic at the same time. So get off your high horse. You're not better than everyone else if you eat organic sausages or granola cereal. And then there's thing thing called "Beyond Organic" which is really what Organic wishes it could be. Just read the damn book and you'll know what I'm talking about.
The last meal Pollan explores is that of a hunter-gatherer which was by far my favorite of his adventures. He killed a wild boar in California which was one of his first experiences hunting. He went morel mushroom hunting with a bunch of weird dudes in a forest. He usufruct some cherries to make a dessert. Can I go back to America and live as a hunter-gatherer? Do I know anyone that knows how to identify mushrooms? If so, please speak up! Teach me your ways.
If you care at all about what you eat (where it comes from and how it is what it is) you should read The Omnivore's Dilemma. But don't take my word for it!!! #READING RAINBOW.
QUIET: Hard thing to come by in Cambodia.
On to the next one, on the the next one: before I let my mind slip into complete malaise, I zapped my next book into motion on my fancy little nook e-reader thingy (thanks mom and dad.) Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that Can't Stop Talking by Susan Cain (my new best friend.) My friend and old co-worker Elliott (Read about him here!) gave me his copy when he finished it last year but I didn't have enough time to read it before flying away on an aeroplane to Cambodia. So I downloaded a copy from the mighty interwebs (completely legally; bought and paid for.)
"Restorative Niche": my bedroom in a South Minneapolis basement.
I couldn't put this book down and the best part was, I didn't want to leave my room or my other secret reading nook while reading it. I needed to be alone! I was learning about myself and needed to pay close attention. If you've been an avid "Laurax Doodles in Khmer" reader then you'd know that I've struggled a bit with the "Who Am I?" question, feel guilt-ridden when I hermit myself too much, and feel too much pressure in the spotlight at times. In certain chapters I felt like I was reading about myself!
The book is about 300 pages and I highlighted it 92 different times (awesome feature of the nook)! Here are some highlighted highlights:
- "cross the street to avoid making aimless chitchat with random acquaintances"
- "many introverts are prone from earliest childhood to strong guilt feelings; we also know that we all tend to project our own reactions on to others" (whoa...)
- "people who tend to [suppress their negative emotions] regularly, might start to see the world in a more negative light." (ruh-roh!)
- "self-monitors are highly skilled at modifying their behavior to the social demands of a situation." (hello, pseudo-extrovert Laurax.)
- "taking shelter in bathrooms is a surprisingly common phenomenon, as you probably know if you're an introvert." (I love bathroom hideaways. Stalls are a great place to cry.)
- "we can stretch our personalities, but only up to a point."
- "introverts often feel as if they express themselves better in writing that in conversation." (blogging!)
This book helped me realize that I am not totally whacked out. That maybe the things I do are more normal than I thought they were. It also made me realize why I oftentimes feel completely overwhelmed in my village. Like I've said before, PCVs are "on duty" the moment they walk out of their bedroom and that can be draining when it's every single day, especially for someone with introverted tendencies. There aren't many "restorative niches" or quiet places to re-energize. I think, with confirmation from this book, there are many people that struggle to understand who they truly are. We try to put ourselves in to boxes; extrovert-introvert, outgoing-reserved, etc etc, but we don't have to be one or the other and we really can't be. It's just not possible. I've spent a lot of my life trying to be what people want me to be. One thing that makes me happier than anything is to make other people happy; but my misstep here was not taking care of myself first. I didn't recognize when I needed to disappear and find my "restorative niche" so I too could be happy.
One of my "Restorative Niches": My desk back home. Cluttered and yet so peaceful. Look! I'm on Facebook. Lolz.
You don't have to be introverted to read Quiet. If anything, it just makes you think about what makes you happiest and how knowing that can lead you to a life where you are truer to yourself. Or as Shakespeare once said (according to the book) "To thine own self be true."
Another "Restorative Niche": solo walks in Minneapolis
My current mission(book): Packing for Mars: The Curious Science of Life in the Void by Mary Roach. This lady is HI-Larious. Laughing out loud over here. I also read Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers by Mary Roach. I want to be this lady's friend also.
Packing for Mars: puking in zero-gravity and shit. Good stuff.
Read on, friends. READ. To infinity and beyond.
November 12, 2013
The Entertainer
I'm not gonna lie; I like attention. (I think I've mentioned this before...)
I have, from time to time throughout my life, enjoyed being the center of attention. (Don't laugh.) But one specification is that I choose when to be the entertainer. In order to be the center of attention, I have to #1. know my audience to a certain degree. And #2. I have to feel a certain amount of comfort with my audience. But the overall most important feature of receiving attention is that I have, in some way, control of this attention and if I get overwhelmed, I have the control to at some point run away and hide because sometimes I also have social anxiety and would rather be alone. (Dear audience: I hope you enjoy reading about how crazy I am. I'm not ashamed to admit that I've got issues. We've all got issues! And shoes!)
The Entertainer: I once figure skated to this song.
Now. Picture this: A moderately small village in the middle of Cambodia all of a sudden receives a ghostly creature that walks around everyday, choppily speaking the local language, and petting the dogs. For a handful of the people in this village, especially the young children, this is the first time they've ever seen a creature of such strange facial features and such a pallid skin tone. I can understand how puzzling such a creature may appear and how difficult it would be NOT to stare. But after a year, you'd think - YOU'D THINK!!! This creature would be old news by now.
The village I live in is a spot on a main highway smack dab in-between Phnom Penh and another popular city, Kampot, in Cambodia. It's INCREDIBLY loud - due to the traffic, especially because of the gigantic semi-trucks tumbling and speeding by every minute. And it is very transient. People from all over Cambodia stop by my village while they are traveling around the country. There's a decent sized market for van loads of people to stop and buy food to snack on during their travels. And when this happens, a van load of fresh eyes get to gaze upon the ghostly creature - ME - creeping around the village.
Find the foreigner! Photo credit: Kate Yoder.
Being a Peace Corps Volunteer is a 24/7 job. The moment I step foot out my room, I am essentially ON-DUTY. I have to churn out Khmer to the first person that I set my eyes on. I have to tell people where I'm going and what I'm doing at all times. I was never really a fan of small talk and, unfortunately, small talk is every conversation of my life, ever in Cambodia. Khmer people are the BEST at small talk! People will be rolling by on their motos and ask me where I'm going and not even wait to listen to my response. And rather than asking how someone is - a more common question is to ask if they've eaten rice yet "Hop bai howee rue nou?" It's just something they do. Small small small talk.
Fortunately, I have a pretty normal routine - I eat my breakfast at the same place, I drink my coffee at the same place, and talk to the same people on my way to and from work. Those people involved in my routine everyday respect me and I respect them. However, there is still this spotlight on me where everything and anything I do is somehow different (and spectacularly entertaining!!!) in comparison to everyone else in the village and therefore people must take note of this. People chuckle every time I tell them what I'm eating for breakfast. "Goat jol jet nyam baan chaio neung quitio chaa." ("She likes to eat baan chaio and fried noodles.") They point out that I drink coffee every morning but don't really notice that pretty much everyone else drinks coffee in the morning also. But I guess it's just that much more interesting because I am the foreigner.
When I go running, the same children scream "Hellllllloooooooooooooooo" at me and scream even louder when I don't respond still after running through the village for over a year now. People still offer me a ride on their motos when they pass me while I'm running. You'd think - YOU'D THINK, that after a year, they'd realize that I'm not trying to get somewhere, I'm just exercising. I'm that weird foreigner that exercises and pets dogs.
And I can't help but wonder - is being the foreigner like this in every third world country?
During our pre-service training, Peace Corps staff told us that staring in Cambodia is rude. But somehow this does not appear to apply when the gaze is turned around and pointing like a flesh burning laser on to a foreigner. I still can't quite figure this out. And think that the whole thing about "staring being rude" is a load of crap...
I have never felt so uncomfortable on such a regular basis because of so much unwanted attention. Strangers at the market blatantly taking photos of me with their camera phones. People, young and old, turning 180 degrees around in their seat - rubbernecking - to stare with unblinking eyes at me while I eat my bowl of noodles. I have never appreciated the idea of anonymity so much. The very concept of anonymity seems so foreign to me now that I am the token foreigner.
There are bad days, when I get so fed up with this unwanted attention that I find myself struggling to leave my room. Aren't they bored of me yet? I'm not here for their entertainment and yet, many days I feel like that's all I'm good for. "What's that weird foreigner up to today? Maybe she'll run down the road again." And on the days I don't run down the road - they are sure to make note of it and ask me about it later. "Why didn't you exercise today?" But those are the bad days.
But then there are good days. The days when I choose to be "the center of attention." The days I choose to dance with the neighbor kids in the front yard. The days I humor the random person passing through the village and answer 20 questions for them. My patience for this is growing thin but luckily, it's still present and hopefully enough to last me the next 9 months.
Sometimes I choose to be the center of attention in Cambodia. Photo credit: Hayley Knicely.
And I have to remind myself that I am kind of a novelty to the people in this village. I understand that it is strange seeing someone like me in the middle of nowhere in Cambodia. It just gets old when the 7,000 person is asking me who I am and why I'm here. No matter how much I fight this, it's not going to change. And I need to take this opportunity to teach the people in my village what some Americans are like. This is a goal for all Peace Corps Volunteers serving in all countries throughout the world.
I also have to remind myself that this experience is novel! I forget how unique this experience really is and it's rejuvenating to be reminded of how fascinating my life is right now. The fascination has worn off because of unavoidable monotony but every once in a while something completely bazaar happens and it brings me back to the Kingdom of Wonder - Cambodia. It's not everyday you see an elephant walk passed you during your morning coffee. It's not everyday (in America) you see two grown pigs attached to the back of a moto. It's not everyday the neighbors try to kill the sewer rats with rocks and sticks. There are things that are uniquely Cambodian (as far as I know) that I will miss once I'm back in Cambodia and again, I'm trying to remind myself (look to previous post "TIME SLIP") that my days in Cambodia are numbered. I can't let all this unwanted attention ruin the rest of my time here. It will still aggravate me but I will try to focus on the positive. And won't it be super weird going back to America where no one cares who I am? I will no longer be a celebrity! This is why celebrities go crazy!!! Losing celebrity can't be easy...
Random elephant marching through town. Photo credit: Stacy Biggs
So there was my rant.
I have, from time to time throughout my life, enjoyed being the center of attention. (Don't laugh.) But one specification is that I choose when to be the entertainer. In order to be the center of attention, I have to #1. know my audience to a certain degree. And #2. I have to feel a certain amount of comfort with my audience. But the overall most important feature of receiving attention is that I have, in some way, control of this attention and if I get overwhelmed, I have the control to at some point run away and hide because sometimes I also have social anxiety and would rather be alone. (Dear audience: I hope you enjoy reading about how crazy I am. I'm not ashamed to admit that I've got issues. We've all got issues! And shoes!)
Now. Picture this: A moderately small village in the middle of Cambodia all of a sudden receives a ghostly creature that walks around everyday, choppily speaking the local language, and petting the dogs. For a handful of the people in this village, especially the young children, this is the first time they've ever seen a creature of such strange facial features and such a pallid skin tone. I can understand how puzzling such a creature may appear and how difficult it would be NOT to stare. But after a year, you'd think - YOU'D THINK!!! This creature would be old news by now.
The village I live in is a spot on a main highway smack dab in-between Phnom Penh and another popular city, Kampot, in Cambodia. It's INCREDIBLY loud - due to the traffic, especially because of the gigantic semi-trucks tumbling and speeding by every minute. And it is very transient. People from all over Cambodia stop by my village while they are traveling around the country. There's a decent sized market for van loads of people to stop and buy food to snack on during their travels. And when this happens, a van load of fresh eyes get to gaze upon the ghostly creature - ME - creeping around the village.
Find the foreigner! Photo credit: Kate Yoder.
Being a Peace Corps Volunteer is a 24/7 job. The moment I step foot out my room, I am essentially ON-DUTY. I have to churn out Khmer to the first person that I set my eyes on. I have to tell people where I'm going and what I'm doing at all times. I was never really a fan of small talk and, unfortunately, small talk is every conversation of my life, ever in Cambodia. Khmer people are the BEST at small talk! People will be rolling by on their motos and ask me where I'm going and not even wait to listen to my response. And rather than asking how someone is - a more common question is to ask if they've eaten rice yet "Hop bai howee rue nou?" It's just something they do. Small small small talk.
Fortunately, I have a pretty normal routine - I eat my breakfast at the same place, I drink my coffee at the same place, and talk to the same people on my way to and from work. Those people involved in my routine everyday respect me and I respect them. However, there is still this spotlight on me where everything and anything I do is somehow different (and spectacularly entertaining!!!) in comparison to everyone else in the village and therefore people must take note of this. People chuckle every time I tell them what I'm eating for breakfast. "Goat jol jet nyam baan chaio neung quitio chaa." ("She likes to eat baan chaio and fried noodles.") They point out that I drink coffee every morning but don't really notice that pretty much everyone else drinks coffee in the morning also. But I guess it's just that much more interesting because I am the foreigner.
When I go running, the same children scream "Hellllllloooooooooooooooo" at me and scream even louder when I don't respond still after running through the village for over a year now. People still offer me a ride on their motos when they pass me while I'm running. You'd think - YOU'D THINK, that after a year, they'd realize that I'm not trying to get somewhere, I'm just exercising. I'm that weird foreigner that exercises and pets dogs.
And I can't help but wonder - is being the foreigner like this in every third world country?
During our pre-service training, Peace Corps staff told us that staring in Cambodia is rude. But somehow this does not appear to apply when the gaze is turned around and pointing like a flesh burning laser on to a foreigner. I still can't quite figure this out. And think that the whole thing about "staring being rude" is a load of crap...
I have never felt so uncomfortable on such a regular basis because of so much unwanted attention. Strangers at the market blatantly taking photos of me with their camera phones. People, young and old, turning 180 degrees around in their seat - rubbernecking - to stare with unblinking eyes at me while I eat my bowl of noodles. I have never appreciated the idea of anonymity so much. The very concept of anonymity seems so foreign to me now that I am the token foreigner.
There are bad days, when I get so fed up with this unwanted attention that I find myself struggling to leave my room. Aren't they bored of me yet? I'm not here for their entertainment and yet, many days I feel like that's all I'm good for. "What's that weird foreigner up to today? Maybe she'll run down the road again." And on the days I don't run down the road - they are sure to make note of it and ask me about it later. "Why didn't you exercise today?" But those are the bad days.
But then there are good days. The days when I choose to be "the center of attention." The days I choose to dance with the neighbor kids in the front yard. The days I humor the random person passing through the village and answer 20 questions for them. My patience for this is growing thin but luckily, it's still present and hopefully enough to last me the next 9 months.
Sometimes I choose to be the center of attention in Cambodia. Photo credit: Hayley Knicely.
And I have to remind myself that I am kind of a novelty to the people in this village. I understand that it is strange seeing someone like me in the middle of nowhere in Cambodia. It just gets old when the 7,000 person is asking me who I am and why I'm here. No matter how much I fight this, it's not going to change. And I need to take this opportunity to teach the people in my village what some Americans are like. This is a goal for all Peace Corps Volunteers serving in all countries throughout the world.
I also have to remind myself that this experience is novel! I forget how unique this experience really is and it's rejuvenating to be reminded of how fascinating my life is right now. The fascination has worn off because of unavoidable monotony but every once in a while something completely bazaar happens and it brings me back to the Kingdom of Wonder - Cambodia. It's not everyday you see an elephant walk passed you during your morning coffee. It's not everyday (in America) you see two grown pigs attached to the back of a moto. It's not everyday the neighbors try to kill the sewer rats with rocks and sticks. There are things that are uniquely Cambodian (as far as I know) that I will miss once I'm back in Cambodia and again, I'm trying to remind myself (look to previous post "TIME SLIP") that my days in Cambodia are numbered. I can't let all this unwanted attention ruin the rest of my time here. It will still aggravate me but I will try to focus on the positive. And won't it be super weird going back to America where no one cares who I am? I will no longer be a celebrity! This is why celebrities go crazy!!! Losing celebrity can't be easy...
Random elephant marching through town. Photo credit: Stacy Biggs
November 5, 2013
Time Slip
Last week, I was sitting around with the nurses at the health center and my favorite nurse, Chinda, asked me how much longer till I go back to America. This is a question I get asked, without fail, EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. And I think to myself "Geez, do ya'll want me get outta your country or what?!" Hopefully that is NOT the case. Most likely it is not. It's actually a pretty obvious question to ask an extremely out-of-place foreigner, especially when they've already been living in your village for over a year.
Anyway, I informed Chinda and the nurses that I have about 9 to 10 months left in Cambodia. And when I said this to Chinda in particular, I felt a pinch of sadness. When randoms ask me that question (EVERY day, remember) I just brush it off. But surprisingly, I have really come to love the staff at the health center. There are days, yesterday for example, when they push ALL of my buttons; when they'd rather sit and "nyay layng"(loosely: chit-chat) rather than take care of the patients that are patiently (ha...) waiting to get helped. Or when they can't give me a straight answer; "Do we have this vaccination or not? This woman has been waiting a while to get it..." The question is received with blank stares...And I am the one who has to inform the woman that we don't have the vaccination and I have NO idea when we're going to get it.
So, there are days when I feel like no progress is being made and I'm just banging my head on the freshly painted wall (thanks to me!!) of the health center. But then there are good days. Days when I walk around with a smile on my face and babies to squeeze. On those happy days, I think about how soon I will be leaving Cambodia. And how it feels maybe a little too soon.
But I'm not going to lie, I can't wait to go home. Home - America - feels like a far off distant land of wonder to me now. It feels so far away and so obscure. A nurse trainee asked me last week to compare Cambodia and America and I was at a complete loss of words. One reason is because I can only speak so much awesome Khmer. The other reason was because I almost couldn't remember what is so different about America compared to Cambodia. It was a strange moment for me.
One good day can make up for a month of bad days in Cambodia. October was a very long month for me...it went by as slow as molasses. And the good day didn't come until October 31st when I got to help with Measles vaccinations at a primary school in my community. I woke up that morning in a bad mood because none of the staff informed me of a plan the day before so I assumed I wouldn't be helping with vaccinations. Nonetheless, I put on my shiny new blue polo with the vaccination logo and went about my morning routine. I arrived at the health center early and several nurses from neighboring health centers were putting together the vaccination kits. They all stared at me with wonder, of course, and didn't ask me if I wanted to help (of course.) I could have put myself out there and asked them if they needed help but my mood was getting in my way.
Vaccination doctor, Loak Gru Koy, on the left. He's awesome.
Our vaccination doctor arrived late, typical, picked up his kit, and just as he was about to zoom away I said I wanted to go. And off we went. Thank goodness I stopped being such a crabby-patty because I had such a great time helping. We vaccinated 170 little kids. My job was to keep count (which I'm not sure I did such a thorough job...) And after we finished up we went to M'layk (a lake surrounded by mountains) sat in hammocks, ate a roasted chicken and felt happy about life. The mountains, trees, and sky shined a little brighter after all of that.
Little ones reaching out to their friend that is crying after her shot
Now, I am trying to remind myself that I don't have much time left here so I have to appreciate everything...or most things.
after each child received their shot, they dipped their finger in ink to prove they got their vaccination already.
I love that all I have to do is walk across the street to the market to eat my favorite breakfast every morning. And that it only cost me about 40 cents! I love drinking ice coffee with the moto and taxi drivers. I like to think I've become sort of an honorary member of their crew when we sit together every morning.
M'layk at its best.
I love that I walk in-between grazing cows to get to work everyday. I love having afternoons to myself - I have possibly watched more TV here than I have in my whole life! I love running through rice paddies and watching the sun set behind the mountains every night. I love that when I'm running, people ask me if I'm tired and my go-to response is always "Aut jeh hot dtay!" which means that I don't know how to be tired. I say this even when I am truly tired but I guess I'm trying to convince myself otherwise. I love that after I eat dinner with my family, all four of our cats jump on the dinner table and have a fancy feast of our leftovers. Is this something that ever happened to me in America? No way jose!
STOP! Hammock time!!!!
So what I'm really trying to say, I guess, is that I appreciate you, Cambodia. You piss me off sometimes but I don't know what I'd do without you. You will forever have a special place in my heart.
And here's a shout out to Team Takeo!!!
Anyway, I informed Chinda and the nurses that I have about 9 to 10 months left in Cambodia. And when I said this to Chinda in particular, I felt a pinch of sadness. When randoms ask me that question (EVERY day, remember) I just brush it off. But surprisingly, I have really come to love the staff at the health center. There are days, yesterday for example, when they push ALL of my buttons; when they'd rather sit and "nyay layng"(loosely: chit-chat) rather than take care of the patients that are patiently (ha...) waiting to get helped. Or when they can't give me a straight answer; "Do we have this vaccination or not? This woman has been waiting a while to get it..." The question is received with blank stares...And I am the one who has to inform the woman that we don't have the vaccination and I have NO idea when we're going to get it.
So, there are days when I feel like no progress is being made and I'm just banging my head on the freshly painted wall (thanks to me!!) of the health center. But then there are good days. Days when I walk around with a smile on my face and babies to squeeze. On those happy days, I think about how soon I will be leaving Cambodia. And how it feels maybe a little too soon.
But I'm not going to lie, I can't wait to go home. Home - America - feels like a far off distant land of wonder to me now. It feels so far away and so obscure. A nurse trainee asked me last week to compare Cambodia and America and I was at a complete loss of words. One reason is because I can only speak so much awesome Khmer. The other reason was because I almost couldn't remember what is so different about America compared to Cambodia. It was a strange moment for me.
One good day can make up for a month of bad days in Cambodia. October was a very long month for me...it went by as slow as molasses. And the good day didn't come until October 31st when I got to help with Measles vaccinations at a primary school in my community. I woke up that morning in a bad mood because none of the staff informed me of a plan the day before so I assumed I wouldn't be helping with vaccinations. Nonetheless, I put on my shiny new blue polo with the vaccination logo and went about my morning routine. I arrived at the health center early and several nurses from neighboring health centers were putting together the vaccination kits. They all stared at me with wonder, of course, and didn't ask me if I wanted to help (of course.) I could have put myself out there and asked them if they needed help but my mood was getting in my way.
Vaccination doctor, Loak Gru Koy, on the left. He's awesome.
Our vaccination doctor arrived late, typical, picked up his kit, and just as he was about to zoom away I said I wanted to go. And off we went. Thank goodness I stopped being such a crabby-patty because I had such a great time helping. We vaccinated 170 little kids. My job was to keep count (which I'm not sure I did such a thorough job...) And after we finished up we went to M'layk (a lake surrounded by mountains) sat in hammocks, ate a roasted chicken and felt happy about life. The mountains, trees, and sky shined a little brighter after all of that.
Little ones reaching out to their friend that is crying after her shot
Now, I am trying to remind myself that I don't have much time left here so I have to appreciate everything...or most things.
after each child received their shot, they dipped their finger in ink to prove they got their vaccination already.
I love that all I have to do is walk across the street to the market to eat my favorite breakfast every morning. And that it only cost me about 40 cents! I love drinking ice coffee with the moto and taxi drivers. I like to think I've become sort of an honorary member of their crew when we sit together every morning.
M'layk at its best.
I love that I walk in-between grazing cows to get to work everyday. I love having afternoons to myself - I have possibly watched more TV here than I have in my whole life! I love running through rice paddies and watching the sun set behind the mountains every night. I love that when I'm running, people ask me if I'm tired and my go-to response is always "Aut jeh hot dtay!" which means that I don't know how to be tired. I say this even when I am truly tired but I guess I'm trying to convince myself otherwise. I love that after I eat dinner with my family, all four of our cats jump on the dinner table and have a fancy feast of our leftovers. Is this something that ever happened to me in America? No way jose!
STOP! Hammock time!!!!
So what I'm really trying to say, I guess, is that I appreciate you, Cambodia. You piss me off sometimes but I don't know what I'd do without you. You will forever have a special place in my heart.
And here's a shout out to Team Takeo!!!
October 14, 2013
Peer Pressure Party
fyi: the photos in today's blogpost will not make sense
Today we're going to take a trip in my time machine (the 3rd time machine I've made in my life (thankyaverymuch!)) that I made out of a cardboard box, sidewalk chalk, and bobby pins. Don't worry, we're only going back in time by 3 weeks. I know 3 weeks isn't an impressive amount of time to travel forwards or backwards but a lot can happen in 3 weeks. Either way, all I really want to do is tell you about a party attended.
Like I said a couple of blogposts back, my friend Srey Lish was awarded a visa to the U.S.of A. and she left on the 26th of September, 2013. But before she left, she invited me to her going away party. She told me it started at 5PM on a Saturday night. This was already going to be an issue for me. It takes me between 15 to 20 minutes to bike to her house depending on how much sweat I want to release upon arrival. And since this was a "party" I was unsure of the dress code. Most of the "parties" I attend in Cambodia are funerals or old people celebrations. Those types of "parties" or better yet ceremonies, require me to wear a Sampot, which is a traditional Khmer skirt that is usually made of 2 inch thick silk that feels like it's been heavily starched to assure that a woman is in no way comfortable.
So I debated for a good 30 minutes about what to wear which is a usual predicament for many female-type-characters preparing to go to any event. Some how I decided to go in-between formal and casual. Semi-formal? No. It was more like casual Friday; high wasted, bell bottom jeans (yeah, I know) and my 2 inch thick polyester flow-y long sleeve 70s flower power shirt (No really? Yes.) that I found at an estate sale. Perfect choice, Laura. No one will understand what kind of statement you're trying to make with that one. I was trying to channel Goldie Hawn or Olivia Newton-John and I think I pulled it off quite nicely. ALSO, KEEP IN MIND, that I had to wear this while biking and foolishly thought the polyester shirt was flow-y enough to reduce the sweat. I don't know why I do things.
Hey look! A toucan! I drew this!
Back to the issue of time. I did not want to arrive at the party right at 5PM because, like, come on, who shows up to a party right at the start? Am I right? I am right. But the biggest issue being - "Hello my name is Laura, I am 27 years old, I am an American, and I am a volunteer and have to be home before dark." Good thing the sun sets by 6PM every day of the year here. So I accepted the fact that I would bike to the party, arrive by 5:30PM, eat some unknown meat, hug my friend goodbye, and promptly leave by 6PM............
I don't know how I thought I'd get away with that plan. When I got to the party, there was a good crowd already festivising and my friend sat me at a table full of her friends, all young Khmer guys of course, which was bound to be awkward. They mostly avoided contact with me as much as possible which is expected. But then the rice made its rounds and we had something to occupy ourselves with for a while. Srey Lish kindly had one of her best friends sit next to me and she was so sweet to me. I felt more at ease with her sitting with me at the boy table.
I made a quick analysis of the food spread out over the table: weird Khmer salad thing - I can eat that. YUM; pig skin and ears atop a bed of green tomatoes - dog food; unidentified meat - don't touch. I asked my new friend to the left of me what the unidentified meat was and the music was a little too loud for me to completely understand what she said...but I think she said "dog." And that was the moment when I came to the conclusion that it is very unfortunately, regrettably likely and possible that I have consumed dog meat without even knowing it at some point in my 18+ months in Cambodia. I told my new friend that I didn't know how to eat dog meat.
This dog is screaming in absolute horror!
Beer began to make it's way around the table and I was happy for the dog meat interruption. And BEER! I can count on 3 fingers the number of times I have drank beer out in my community. Many women do not drink in Cambodia. Traditionally it is not "sopeeup" or proper for women to drink. However, it is becoming more acceptable at parties especially among younger women. And as a barang (foreigner) I tend to transcend some cultural and traditional gender roles. In general, it's best to simply respect those traditions and saddle up with the other women or for me, it's more likely the children's table. But this party was different! It was indeed party time.
Soam srah beer Angkor muy kampong.
Oh but oops, it's 6PM. My pumpkin carriage awaits me.
I told Srey Lish it was time for me to go but she then preceded to beg me to stay and dance. She told me someone could drive me home later so I wouldn't have to bike home in the dark. She also offered me to stay the night but I've never been a fan of staying in strange beds in homes I'm not familiar with. (Or even homes I am familiar with - just ask one of my BFFs Xin. I think I slept over at her condo once but woke up as early as possible to go back to my bed.) And so the inevitable happened. I stayed at the party past my government issued curfew.
The table was placed in the middle of the dance floor and that was my cue to be one of the first and especially awkward people to dance. Let me tell you, Khmer people think I can dance. That should be a TV show. And you know what? I indulge them. I busted out all my latest and greatest moves. This time it was some of my more "modern" dance styles stemming from the LODAC collection. One thing that I appreciate about Khmer dancing is all the Khmer men dancing shamelessly and with great abandon. It's like dancing in Jerry Seinfeld's bizarro world. Albeit once the men get one too many beers in their systems it's overbearing and obnoxious - they can't take a hint!
And like a truly obedient rainy season, it began pouring. But instead of running for cover under the tent, we just kept dancing. I pulled my belled bottoms up to my knees as the red mud began to form under our feet. We circled around the table one thousand more times; slipping and sliding in the mud. This was the most fun I'd had in the village for a long while.
But the party didn't stop there. The moment I sat down to rest back at the boys table, I was challenged to a dual. A drinking dual. I "joll gaio-ed" (cheers!) with the boys table for a solid couple of beers and was invited to join "the mens" table. The mens table consisted of my friend Srey Lish's dad, the health center director who I helped get a new latrine, and a number of teachers from the high school. They meant business. When you fill your glass with beer, you don't drink at your own pace - YOU DRINK ALL. And I am not a gulper. I don't know how to chug drinks. But Srey Lish's dad was putting me up to the challenge and approving of my smallest accomplishments. And we're talking beer consumption here. I drank until I thought I would burst. And even a little more. Srey Lish said "wonderful" and hugged me for my great achievement.
the full toucan.
It came to the point where if I stayed any longer, I might explode from all the beers "chugged" and I lucked out because one of my host uncles was at the party. He is one of the nicest uncles. We made the perfect non-verbal exchange - I looked at him, he pointed toward home, and I nodded. He drove me home right then and there! Woooo! Free! I mean, I had tons of fun but there was no way I'd make it out alive had I stayed. And I don't know if you've ever tried talking to someone in a foreign language while being significantly inebriated but it's.....embarrassing. I could just hear myself slurring Khmer nonsense and cringing in my head but I couldn't stop my mouth from moving.
And so that was the party. And Peer pressure in Cambodia.
The full toucan. IN LIVING COLOR!
September 23, 2013
MOTIVATION. CONTROL. FOUND.
triangulatic.
Control. Something I never thought very hard about before joining Peace Corps. Probably because I had it. I lived where I wanted to live, I ate what I wanted to eat, I did what I wanted to do with very little struggle.
PCVs give up a lot to serve. We leave our friends and family back at home. Some of us leave our "cushy" American jobs with clear assignments and parameters. We leave acceptable health care and our own generally good health behind. We leave pizza delivery. We leave what is known and comfortable. We almost literally get thrown to the wolves (I'm sure some PCVs are placed near wolf dens. I wish I were....) CONTROL. We've lost control.
I have had trillions upon trillions (exaggeration) of conversations with fellow PCV friends about our disappointments and our frustrations with our service as Peace Corps Volunteers. It tends to be an ongoing conversation for many of us. Is Peace Corps what we expected it to be? What did we expect it to be even? Sometimes it's easy to lose sight of what MOTIVATED us to SERVE.
I think I found it again.
We K6s just completed our Mid-Service-Training which I now realize is a big accomplishment. Our Country Director told us (paraphrasing) that the volunteers that went home early will never know what we now know and what we gained from sticking it out. The most impactful session during our training for me was appropriately titled "Motivations of Service." It was a candid conversation with all the Community Health volunteers and our Deputy of training. We listed out our original motivations of serving in Peace Corps which segued into our frustrations once in Peace Corps. It was a much needed therapeutic conversation.
The most harmonious take away from the conversation was that "the impact of volunteers is NOT quantitative." We can go ahead and collect our data on how many moms were educated on the importance of exclusive breastfeeding or how many kids were taught how to properly wash their hands but what about the interactions that can't necessarily be tallied in a small composition book?
this is how I track how many babies i weigh. And how many mangoes i eat. equally important.
Just a few months ago, I started helping a lovely young lady named Tum Srey Lish. Srey Lish is a bubbly, friendly, funny, and kind girl. She instantly became my friend. Her name was pulled up on the US Embassy lottery to be awarded an American visa. Srey Lish wanted to improve her English and we found each other through another volunteer. When I first started meeting with her she was not sure when or even IF she would go to America. She was waiting on a phone call from the Embassy to call her in for an interview. She ended up waiting several months for that phone call.
My friend Srey Lish
In the meantime, I met with Srey Lish two times a week for 2-3 hours. Sometimes I prepared information about America like common idioms and popular sayings, she filled out a job application, we talked about interview skills, and read from the book "Half the Sky." But mostly we just talked about life.
While I was in Phnom Penh, Srey Lish called me to inform me that the Embassy finally called her and was giving her the long-awaited visa! I was, of course, extremely happy for her. But sad for me. I finally made a great friend...but she will soon be leaving me. She is actually leaving this coming Thursday. Look out America! That girl is going to do big things. Regardless of how I feel now that she's leaving, I am so grateful for the time I had with her. I think she helped me more than I helped her. I am so proud of her and excited for this big step in her life. And we WILL reunite in America.
Srey Lish & I sporting our high-fash sunglasses (mine are chanel...)
What I'm realizing now is that the personal relationships that I'm creating while here are far more meaningful than weighing babies. While I do want to SAVE ALL THE BABIES, I am hilariously far from doing that and I can't beat myself up about not doing enough baby saving. Finally accepting this, the fact that my impact - my work - won't be AS big as I originally imagined it being has given me peace of mind. I don't have that much control here but I can control the way I feel about my service. I can control my day to day actions and interactions to make small-scale changes and/or differences. And I feel good about this.
Also, regular exercise does wonders! -> I'd like to give a shout out to Jillian Michaels for shredding me. Her bad jokes really keep me going. What's one thing I have complete control over? EXERCISE. Get off your ass and bike-run-jump-dance!!!
I made a card for my host mama - this photo is pixelated!!!!noooo!!!!!
I wrote it in Khmer!!!!! (Thanks tutor!!!)
I love you all my friends!
September 7, 2013
To Catch a Thief
After living in a country for over a year, it's easy to get overly confident or what some people may call "Cocky." I would never accept such a vulgar descriptive word like "cocky" to define myself but some people may find it applicable. Regardless of what you want to call me - that's not the issue at hand - the issue at hand is safety and security in a third world country.
Peace Corps volunteers enjoy a good celebration every once in a while. The most recent celebration was to honor the newest editions to our Peace Corps Cambodia family, the K7s (AKA - the seventh group of PCVs to enter into service in Cambodia.) We had a very super professional Meet & Greet session at the office, broke up into provinces for dinner, and reconvened at our Country Director's house for hors d'oeuvres and fancy drink (i.e. > $3 wine; it was a big night.) For some of us PCVs our night shan't end simply. The night must also contain an introduction to our most frequented watering holes in the city of Phnom Penh.
A number of PCVs have entered the Mekong River Lounge in the past and cleaned the place of beer. Dancing is also a common happenstance. We often take control of the musical decisions and amaze the other perturbed guests with our quality of dance. We offer a great many forms of entertainment when there happens to be 50+ PCVs within the same establishment.
Some PCVs end their night at the Mekong and cheers to those smart individuals who believe in the power of sleep. Others find the dancing options of the Mekong limited and disappointing and therefore take their business to another area of town that offers dance varieties unknown and very foreign to the villages we spend most of our time in. This particular night, I was one such PCV. But I was thankfully not alone. At least 20 PCVs decided to learn about the dance club culture along with me. We also all refused the inconvenient form of transportation known as the tuk-tuk. Why? Because we're cheap; too cheap to spend 50¢ or perhaps 75¢ per person to get to a location in 5 - 10 minutes rather than 30 - 40 minutes by walking.
Not a tuk-tuk, Not even a Taxi.
So we began our trek - me in my $5 high heels - and within no more than 10 minutes of departing the Mekong, my night was flipped upside-down. When I walk around Phnom Penh, I tend to walk in the middle-ish of the street, often times because this is the only option. Sidewalks are for cars, ya dummies! And we own the streets, COME ON! (Here's where cockiness is an issue) And when it's near midnight, there are fewer cars and motos around so it just makes sense to walk in the street, right? Or not. I was walking and talking with some lovely K7 PCVs when suddenly a moto flew by the right side of my body and stunningly, took my purse along with it. SHOCK. I watched as two men on the moto zoomed away down the dark street, completely dumbstruck. "THEY JUST TOOK MY BAG!!" I finally managed to say to the others around me. It happened so quickly and smoothly that everyone was astounded. All I had left was the strap hanging around my neck. The thieves cut the straps and with something extremely sharp because the movement was seamless. There was no struggle, no tension. I'm incredibly lucky that I didn't get slashed in the process.
Never seen this movie before but I'm played by Grace Kelly, duh.
I am so grateful that I was surrounded by my friends, old and new, when this happened. Without them, I would have been completely helpless. Automatically, one PCV called up our Safety and Security officer - Reaksmey. This man is amazing and answers his phone even when it's nearly midnight. He cares a great deal about the volunteers and does his job better than anyone could. He calmed me down and asked me to come into the office the next day so we could write up a police report. I thanked him for talking to me at such a late hour and he told me it wasn't a problem. Seriously, he is the best of the best.
Oddly enough (or maybe I was just being normal), I continued my journey with my fellow PCVs and went dancing. My friend Mike gave me money which he really did not have to do. He just did it out of the goodness of his big ol' heart. Other PCVs joked that he would have baked me a cake right then and there if he had the ingredients (Mike is an exceptional baker.)
Katy Perry eating pizza, everyone!
After a solid couple of hours of dancing, we went to a new PCV favorite - Katy Perry Pizza. It's a pizza joint set up on the sidewalk - baking pizzas out of a large steel drum turned into an oven. Pretty solid marketing they've got going on. We consumed many a pizza and continued the socialization of the K7s. I unfortunately began recounting the items I lost when my purse was snatched. Wallet containing over $30, Cambodian bank card, American bank card, Minnesota ID, phone, small sketchbook, 2 pens, lipstick, and oh no, MY iPOD! This country does not want me to have an iPod. My good ol' classic iPod was buried here after 7 or so good years. My parents sent me a new iPod touch for my birthday last year and a month later it mysteriously disappeared. And now this one rode off on a moto.
Losing an iPod is never an accepted incident. And it especially broke my heart because of my need for music while running and more so, my love affair with Instagram. My Olympus Pen E-PL1 is acting finicky lately so I don't take him out anymore. My iPod became the perfect tool for documenting the most interesting things I see in this country. The iPod camera wasn't the best quality but it was enough to capture the people, the oddities, and sceneries that really make Cambodia stand out. So unfortunately there may be a photo drought for a while.
this little lady regrets the loss of Lauraxamo's Instagram access
On the contrary, upon my realization that my iPod was gone, another volunteer - a new volunteer, named Devin casually offered to GIVE ME his iPod. He said he had two so I could take the extra, at least temporarily. How can someone be so nice? The kindness of volunteers, the network we have within our kooky family is incredible and is only growing stronger. I am forever indebted to Devin for his gift. And I practically just met the guy!
Bike journey Instagrammed
The night of dancing and debauchery ended quite late and once I returned to my room, I was alone to my thoughts and realized there was no way I could sleep. So I decided to Skype with my parents at 4AM. They thought it odd I be awake at such an hour and also thought my face looked particularly cried on. "I am crying" I responded and gave them the rundown of my night. Talking to them put me at ease. I have really awesome parents. I miss those guys like something crazy. And eventually I let them go and thought it was perhaps time to sleep. Sleeping was a disappointment and unsuccessful so I gave up and went for a run instead. I needed to blow off steam. And with the leftover money from Mike I bought myself cookies for an after-run snack. Feeling better already.
Following the run, I cleaned myself up and made my way to the Peace Corps office but stopped by a cage of puppies for sale and told everyone of them I was going to buy them. False promises. Coincidentally I ran into Mike after the puppy-stop and he gave me a brand new sketch book and nice drawing pencils! I am blown away by this guy. I'm gonna draw him up something real nice. At the office, Safety and Security officer, Reaksmey, and I recapped the theft so he could file a police report. My phone was replaced and the phone number is still the same which is super duper great. Reaksmey helped me deal with my Cambodian bank account and set almost everything right. I could not be happier with how this situation was handled. He deserves a raise!
The theft of my purse was not the first nor the last this weekend. I was one of 4 volunteers that were robbed within 3 days. As I left the office with two other volunteers, my friend Amanda's purse was also taken in the clear of day. It's possible that with increased tension surrounding the recent election is one reason for an increase in crime. This is also true during big Cambodian holidays like the Water Festival and Khmer New Year, when more people are traveling around. But one thing is for sure, these thieves are GOOD at what they do. They have it down to an art, a repulsive art form but practiced and perfected nonetheless.
These thieves do not represent the country Cambodia truly is. Khmer people are the most generous and welcoming people I've met so far and these thieves are a despicable people making a bad name of a remarkable place. Tourism is rapidly building up the economy and it would be a shame to see petty crime ruin the progress of a country that deserves so much love. I am very disappointed and borderline rage-full of the events that took place this week but I'm not letting this experience ruin Cambodia for me. It is by no means perfect here but it is something special and awe-inspiring. I'm taking this as a learning experience; to reduce my "cockiness" while in the city, be smarter about my belongings and myself. Overall, this experience makes me appreciate my life in the village where there is an established closeness and trust amongst everyone and that alone makes me feel more safe and secure. I may not have caught any thieves but I have been graced with the kindness and support of many outstanding volunteers and Peace Corps staff.
This yay is proof of Cambodia's greatness
Peace Corps volunteers enjoy a good celebration every once in a while. The most recent celebration was to honor the newest editions to our Peace Corps Cambodia family, the K7s (AKA - the seventh group of PCVs to enter into service in Cambodia.) We had a very super professional Meet & Greet session at the office, broke up into provinces for dinner, and reconvened at our Country Director's house for hors d'oeuvres and fancy drink (i.e. > $3 wine; it was a big night.) For some of us PCVs our night shan't end simply. The night must also contain an introduction to our most frequented watering holes in the city of Phnom Penh.
A number of PCVs have entered the Mekong River Lounge in the past and cleaned the place of beer. Dancing is also a common happenstance. We often take control of the musical decisions and amaze the other perturbed guests with our quality of dance. We offer a great many forms of entertainment when there happens to be 50+ PCVs within the same establishment.
Some PCVs end their night at the Mekong and cheers to those smart individuals who believe in the power of sleep. Others find the dancing options of the Mekong limited and disappointing and therefore take their business to another area of town that offers dance varieties unknown and very foreign to the villages we spend most of our time in. This particular night, I was one such PCV. But I was thankfully not alone. At least 20 PCVs decided to learn about the dance club culture along with me. We also all refused the inconvenient form of transportation known as the tuk-tuk. Why? Because we're cheap; too cheap to spend 50¢ or perhaps 75¢ per person to get to a location in 5 - 10 minutes rather than 30 - 40 minutes by walking.
Not a tuk-tuk, Not even a Taxi.
So we began our trek - me in my $5 high heels - and within no more than 10 minutes of departing the Mekong, my night was flipped upside-down. When I walk around Phnom Penh, I tend to walk in the middle-ish of the street, often times because this is the only option. Sidewalks are for cars, ya dummies! And we own the streets, COME ON! (Here's where cockiness is an issue) And when it's near midnight, there are fewer cars and motos around so it just makes sense to walk in the street, right? Or not. I was walking and talking with some lovely K7 PCVs when suddenly a moto flew by the right side of my body and stunningly, took my purse along with it. SHOCK. I watched as two men on the moto zoomed away down the dark street, completely dumbstruck. "THEY JUST TOOK MY BAG!!" I finally managed to say to the others around me. It happened so quickly and smoothly that everyone was astounded. All I had left was the strap hanging around my neck. The thieves cut the straps and with something extremely sharp because the movement was seamless. There was no struggle, no tension. I'm incredibly lucky that I didn't get slashed in the process.
I am so grateful that I was surrounded by my friends, old and new, when this happened. Without them, I would have been completely helpless. Automatically, one PCV called up our Safety and Security officer - Reaksmey. This man is amazing and answers his phone even when it's nearly midnight. He cares a great deal about the volunteers and does his job better than anyone could. He calmed me down and asked me to come into the office the next day so we could write up a police report. I thanked him for talking to me at such a late hour and he told me it wasn't a problem. Seriously, he is the best of the best.
Oddly enough (or maybe I was just being normal), I continued my journey with my fellow PCVs and went dancing. My friend Mike gave me money which he really did not have to do. He just did it out of the goodness of his big ol' heart. Other PCVs joked that he would have baked me a cake right then and there if he had the ingredients (Mike is an exceptional baker.)
Katy Perry eating pizza, everyone!
After a solid couple of hours of dancing, we went to a new PCV favorite - Katy Perry Pizza. It's a pizza joint set up on the sidewalk - baking pizzas out of a large steel drum turned into an oven. Pretty solid marketing they've got going on. We consumed many a pizza and continued the socialization of the K7s. I unfortunately began recounting the items I lost when my purse was snatched. Wallet containing over $30, Cambodian bank card, American bank card, Minnesota ID, phone, small sketchbook, 2 pens, lipstick, and oh no, MY iPOD! This country does not want me to have an iPod. My good ol' classic iPod was buried here after 7 or so good years. My parents sent me a new iPod touch for my birthday last year and a month later it mysteriously disappeared. And now this one rode off on a moto.
Losing an iPod is never an accepted incident. And it especially broke my heart because of my need for music while running and more so, my love affair with Instagram. My Olympus Pen E-PL1 is acting finicky lately so I don't take him out anymore. My iPod became the perfect tool for documenting the most interesting things I see in this country. The iPod camera wasn't the best quality but it was enough to capture the people, the oddities, and sceneries that really make Cambodia stand out. So unfortunately there may be a photo drought for a while.
this little lady regrets the loss of Lauraxamo's Instagram access
On the contrary, upon my realization that my iPod was gone, another volunteer - a new volunteer, named Devin casually offered to GIVE ME his iPod. He said he had two so I could take the extra, at least temporarily. How can someone be so nice? The kindness of volunteers, the network we have within our kooky family is incredible and is only growing stronger. I am forever indebted to Devin for his gift. And I practically just met the guy!
Bike journey Instagrammed
The night of dancing and debauchery ended quite late and once I returned to my room, I was alone to my thoughts and realized there was no way I could sleep. So I decided to Skype with my parents at 4AM. They thought it odd I be awake at such an hour and also thought my face looked particularly cried on. "I am crying" I responded and gave them the rundown of my night. Talking to them put me at ease. I have really awesome parents. I miss those guys like something crazy. And eventually I let them go and thought it was perhaps time to sleep. Sleeping was a disappointment and unsuccessful so I gave up and went for a run instead. I needed to blow off steam. And with the leftover money from Mike I bought myself cookies for an after-run snack. Feeling better already.
Following the run, I cleaned myself up and made my way to the Peace Corps office but stopped by a cage of puppies for sale and told everyone of them I was going to buy them. False promises. Coincidentally I ran into Mike after the puppy-stop and he gave me a brand new sketch book and nice drawing pencils! I am blown away by this guy. I'm gonna draw him up something real nice. At the office, Safety and Security officer, Reaksmey, and I recapped the theft so he could file a police report. My phone was replaced and the phone number is still the same which is super duper great. Reaksmey helped me deal with my Cambodian bank account and set almost everything right. I could not be happier with how this situation was handled. He deserves a raise!
The theft of my purse was not the first nor the last this weekend. I was one of 4 volunteers that were robbed within 3 days. As I left the office with two other volunteers, my friend Amanda's purse was also taken in the clear of day. It's possible that with increased tension surrounding the recent election is one reason for an increase in crime. This is also true during big Cambodian holidays like the Water Festival and Khmer New Year, when more people are traveling around. But one thing is for sure, these thieves are GOOD at what they do. They have it down to an art, a repulsive art form but practiced and perfected nonetheless.
These thieves do not represent the country Cambodia truly is. Khmer people are the most generous and welcoming people I've met so far and these thieves are a despicable people making a bad name of a remarkable place. Tourism is rapidly building up the economy and it would be a shame to see petty crime ruin the progress of a country that deserves so much love. I am very disappointed and borderline rage-full of the events that took place this week but I'm not letting this experience ruin Cambodia for me. It is by no means perfect here but it is something special and awe-inspiring. I'm taking this as a learning experience; to reduce my "cockiness" while in the city, be smarter about my belongings and myself. Overall, this experience makes me appreciate my life in the village where there is an established closeness and trust amongst everyone and that alone makes me feel more safe and secure. I may not have caught any thieves but I have been graced with the kindness and support of many outstanding volunteers and Peace Corps staff.
This yay is proof of Cambodia's greatness
August 19, 2013
The Aphasic Hermit
During most of my adolescence, I was convinced that I was a full-on extrovert. There was no question in my mind about this. I liked being the loud and weird one. I was the loud and weird one. But once I hit college, I started to feel more out of place, like the loud and weird Laura was just a façade. At times I felt energized when I was around people like my Cross Country team. I felt like I could be my loud and weird self without any contest. But at other times I wanted to hide; be silent. I began to face my own personal battles, like "what am I doing here with all of these put together people? Why am I at this outrageously expensive private college when I have no idea what I want to do with my life?" Those were a few of a number of battles I had knocking around in my head. When I attempted to fight off these thoughts, I found myself hiding out more and sticking with the friends that I knew loved me no matter which Laura I chose to be - the loud and weird Laura or the quieter and perhaps more thoughtful Laura.
Me: In my loud and weird adolescent phase
I spent so much time convincing myself that I was an extrovert that when I was quiet and not outgoing, I thought something was wrong with me. Time has taught me differently.
My post-college life has done wonders for my psyche. Very seriously. Whoever said "college years are the best years of your life" WAS CRAZY. I think that is one of the most depressing statements anyone could ever have fall out of their mouth. So my question is, do some people just give up after college? Just throw in the towel and say "Welp, I'm adult now. The fun is over." How could anyone end it right there when they're not even a quarter century into their life? For me, I actually started to live after college. Every year is better, not without new and often bigger challenges, but more rewarding and interesting. I feel much more capable now than I ever did as a lost sophomore in college.
I still experience great joy from being around people but realize how important it is for me to have time to recuperate. Back at TBI Metro Services, I was around people - usually 30 very demanding people - 8 hours a day. When I got home, I often spent the next 6 hours to myself unless I had to work at one of my other 50 jobs. (Just kidding, I only had 2½ jobs.) I like being alone but I didn't believe it at first. I used to feel bad for myself when I was alone on a weekend night. In Peace Corps it's almost written in the job application - "Volunteer should expect to spend most weekend nights alone, watching TV, and imagining pizza." (This is not entirely true but I'm sure I could get a couple "Amens" from some other PCVs holding it down in the village.)
It was an exciting day when the cat came into my room.
I thought working with brain injured adults was one of the most mentally draining work experiences ever. But I've never worked in corporate, or in a hospital, or as an ice road trucker, so I bet there are more mentally challenging jobs but that's beside the point. Before I came to Cambodia, I underestimated how much every daily encounter and exchange would take out of me in a different country. The simpleness of buying a cold beverage or buying breakfast in America is now gone. That comfort and ease of life in America was poured over by a foreign language, different social cues and norms, and so many cultural nuances that I still don't understand.
That baby's all like "wut are you doin' gurl!?!"
Simple statements like "The lightbulb burned out" are no longer simple and the words I need are missing. (That lightbulb has been out for a week now...) Complex conversations are never had. And strong, meaningful friendships are not as possible without the bond of a common language. I'm sure anyone could see this coming before moving to a foreign country but you'll never know how isolating it can be till you're steeped in it. Lacking sufficient language to have what is considered everyday conversation is like getting a glimpse into the life of a person suffering with aphasia. I know what to say but don't have the right words to make other people understand what I need or want. Or I try to say what I need but when other people listen all they hear is blubbery gobbledygook. I had a shocking experience like this just last week when I asked my friend "tgnai na?" (which means "what day?") I repeated it about 5 times and received only blank stares. After a year of saying this word - REALLY!? Does no one understand what I'm saying EVER?! Are they just smiling and nodding to me all the time?! OH DEAR GOD!!
But then the conversation got back on track and my blood pressure returned to it's resting state.
At times, I isolate myself more than I should. "Hermitting", as I call it, in my room with the fan blowing in my face and a book keeping me company. I'm learning that hermitting days are necessary for my sustained sanity but I can't help but feel guilty about it. (And can someone please tell me how I developed such a guilty conscience for everything and anything??) And when I finally come out of my cave, I find many friendly, smiling faces and kick myself for being such a hermitty hermit. I'm still trying to find a balance while reminding myself that what works for other people, won't always work for me. Especially compared to most Khmer people I know. They thrive off of other people, just sitting together (Ongoii-layng-ing = sit-play) and joking around together (nyay-layng-ing.) I can only do that for so long before I need to swim to the surface and catch my breath...
An island is a good place to catch your breath...
The past month or so was especially hermitty for me so I hope for my last year in Cambodia, I can find a happy medium between extroversion and introversion. A balance where I no longer have to feel guilty for my sometimes hermitty lifestyle. And I'm dropping this whole idea that I have to be either extroverted or introverted. Why are we always putting ourselves into boxes? Boxes are so constricting and claustrophobic. I'd prefer to be as limitless and undefined as a rice paddy field.
Rice paddy fields for days
Sometimes I'm loud and weird. Sometimes I'm quiet and weird. I guess one could say I've matured...but maybe that's going to far?
Alone and Weird.
I like me.
Me: In my loud and weird adolescent phase
I spent so much time convincing myself that I was an extrovert that when I was quiet and not outgoing, I thought something was wrong with me. Time has taught me differently.
My post-college life has done wonders for my psyche. Very seriously. Whoever said "college years are the best years of your life" WAS CRAZY. I think that is one of the most depressing statements anyone could ever have fall out of their mouth. So my question is, do some people just give up after college? Just throw in the towel and say "Welp, I'm adult now. The fun is over." How could anyone end it right there when they're not even a quarter century into their life? For me, I actually started to live after college. Every year is better, not without new and often bigger challenges, but more rewarding and interesting. I feel much more capable now than I ever did as a lost sophomore in college.
I still experience great joy from being around people but realize how important it is for me to have time to recuperate. Back at TBI Metro Services, I was around people - usually 30 very demanding people - 8 hours a day. When I got home, I often spent the next 6 hours to myself unless I had to work at one of my other 50 jobs. (Just kidding, I only had 2½ jobs.) I like being alone but I didn't believe it at first. I used to feel bad for myself when I was alone on a weekend night. In Peace Corps it's almost written in the job application - "Volunteer should expect to spend most weekend nights alone, watching TV, and imagining pizza." (This is not entirely true but I'm sure I could get a couple "Amens" from some other PCVs holding it down in the village.)
It was an exciting day when the cat came into my room.
I thought working with brain injured adults was one of the most mentally draining work experiences ever. But I've never worked in corporate, or in a hospital, or as an ice road trucker, so I bet there are more mentally challenging jobs but that's beside the point. Before I came to Cambodia, I underestimated how much every daily encounter and exchange would take out of me in a different country. The simpleness of buying a cold beverage or buying breakfast in America is now gone. That comfort and ease of life in America was poured over by a foreign language, different social cues and norms, and so many cultural nuances that I still don't understand.
That baby's all like "wut are you doin' gurl!?!"
Simple statements like "The lightbulb burned out" are no longer simple and the words I need are missing. (That lightbulb has been out for a week now...) Complex conversations are never had. And strong, meaningful friendships are not as possible without the bond of a common language. I'm sure anyone could see this coming before moving to a foreign country but you'll never know how isolating it can be till you're steeped in it. Lacking sufficient language to have what is considered everyday conversation is like getting a glimpse into the life of a person suffering with aphasia. I know what to say but don't have the right words to make other people understand what I need or want. Or I try to say what I need but when other people listen all they hear is blubbery gobbledygook. I had a shocking experience like this just last week when I asked my friend "tgnai na?" (which means "what day?") I repeated it about 5 times and received only blank stares. After a year of saying this word - REALLY!? Does no one understand what I'm saying EVER?! Are they just smiling and nodding to me all the time?! OH DEAR GOD!!
But then the conversation got back on track and my blood pressure returned to it's resting state.
At times, I isolate myself more than I should. "Hermitting", as I call it, in my room with the fan blowing in my face and a book keeping me company. I'm learning that hermitting days are necessary for my sustained sanity but I can't help but feel guilty about it. (And can someone please tell me how I developed such a guilty conscience for everything and anything??) And when I finally come out of my cave, I find many friendly, smiling faces and kick myself for being such a hermitty hermit. I'm still trying to find a balance while reminding myself that what works for other people, won't always work for me. Especially compared to most Khmer people I know. They thrive off of other people, just sitting together (Ongoii-layng-ing = sit-play) and joking around together (nyay-layng-ing.) I can only do that for so long before I need to swim to the surface and catch my breath...
An island is a good place to catch your breath...
The past month or so was especially hermitty for me so I hope for my last year in Cambodia, I can find a happy medium between extroversion and introversion. A balance where I no longer have to feel guilty for my sometimes hermitty lifestyle. And I'm dropping this whole idea that I have to be either extroverted or introverted. Why are we always putting ourselves into boxes? Boxes are so constricting and claustrophobic. I'd prefer to be as limitless and undefined as a rice paddy field.
Rice paddy fields for days
Sometimes I'm loud and weird. Sometimes I'm quiet and weird. I guess one could say I've matured...but maybe that's going to far?
I like me.
July 30, 2013
Muy Ch'nam, howee. Muy Ch'nam, tdee'ut.
1 year, already. 1 year, more.
Yay selling amazing little things she made out of probably banana leaves.
This year flew by but if you asked the past-Laura, Laura in January for example, she would say that time was CRAWLING by. It's odd how time in this country creeps along. It was really difficult to get this particular blog post started because I was, first of all, worried that I don't have a lot to show for after a whole year in Peace Corps. And second of all, where do I even begin? There is actually a lot to say but how does one sum up a year of being pulled up from the roots and dropped into an unknown land?
little girl strolling in Kampot town
BOOKS. I read a personal record number of books this past year....Approximately 25 books so far. That's an average of about 2 books per month. Way better than my reading average in USA of about 2 books every 4 months or so. Reading now takes precedent over movie and TV show watching for me. I consider this great progress toward improved brain nourishment. I'm trying to read all the books I should have read during middle school, high school, and college. I am not well-read and am severely lacking the the Classics department. So PLEASE! If you have any recommendations, please send them my way. Must feed brain.
LANGUAGE! Huh, I guess that could be considered somewhat significant. A little over a year ago, I had trouble saying "hello" in Khmer. Now, I can make my way through a day in a village; eat breakfast at the market, chat with folks at the coffee shop, and awkwardly try to explain student loans to the health center staff IN KHMER! Luckily, I continue to learn more each day. I have a long way to go but I am happy with my language skills at this point. There are more than 12 million people that speak Khmer in the world. Out of a population of over 7 billion people, I'd say it's something to be proud of to speak such an antiquated language. Soksabaii. Happy healthy.
Khmer Family. Living with a Khmer family was one of my biggest challenges and stressors this year. It was most difficult because I went from living somewhat on my own for practically 7 years, to living within a household in a completely different cultural context than my own. I lost control of when and what I ate on a daily basis. I no longer had free reign over my own room - decorating, nesting, etc. I was also moved around from room to room within the house and that was stressful and confusing to me.
My Lovely Host Parents: Sok Sovanara & Srey Kompeak
After all the stress and confusion settled at home, I was able to realize that I could not/would not trade my adoptive Khmer family for another one. My host mom and I have a special connection and she was the first one to ever mention this. I do things that I usually would not do for her, because I want to make her happy. It's the least I can do since she welcomed me into her home, feeds me more than enough food, and is always making sure I am happy. And she continues to remind me "Kom kut ch'raan" or "don't think too much." These words have now become a personal mantra that I think to myself when I am indeed "thinking too much."
Speaking of feeding me: My host mom just gave me some bananas...
This past year, I watched my little host brother Theva grow up right before my eyes. He was a shy, chubby, silly 13 year old boy when I first met him. He is slowly growing into a young man; growing taller and stretching the chubbiness out, his voice is lower, and he's more confident with each day. I watched my host sister Srey Neang's pregnant belly grow and felt helpless when she suffered with unending nausea and morning (or evening) sickness. She gave birth in May to a sweet little girl that they call Lita. I get to watch her and her husband raise the little one and I am impressed with their parenting skills. I'm happy to report that she is already a smart, happy, and healthy baby.
Travel. I never imagined I would be serving the Peace Corps in South East Asia but I must say, I am lucky. This side of the world is incredible. So much history and such a different cultural setting than I've ever experienced. I am also so close to places I only dreamed of visiting. India for one, I previously treated as a travel "hoop-dream". I didn't think I'd get a chance to travel to India until much later in my life but lo! and behold! I made my way through southern India earlier this year and plan on returning to explore the northern parts of India in the future.
Bike adventures are endless.
Something even more surprising to me, is all the wonders that Cambodia contains in such a small and somewhat modest country. Most of us are aware of Angkor Wat which I not only had the privilege to see but I also ran my first half marathon all around the fallen Empire. Not many people can say that. Beyond the deep-seated history that I'm fortunate to be surrounded by, I also have access to rivers, the Gulf of Thailand, the ocean (well, South China Sea...) and ISLANDS! I'm practically in paradise.
Cans on Cans on Cans - life on the island is tough.
Food. For the most part, I have not been disappointed by food in this country. EXCEPT FOR THE EXCESS OF RICE but that's a rant for another day. My host mom is an excellent cook and I am very seriously excited every night for our meals together. This is also when I finally get to spend quality time with my host family since everyone is busy throughout the day. The most unexpected foods that I LOVE and never thought I'd be eating are as follows (in order of most favorite):
1. Frogs. Especially when they are in this soup that includes lemon grass, chili peppers, basil, and other things unknown to me.
2. Baan Chaiov (especially with fried quivtio noodles(thick white noodles)) I've talked about this one before - it's like a Khmer crepe and so so good.) I can get this number for about 37 cents at my market. Mmmmmm Khmer breakfast......
3. Fish. Some fish, particularly when it comes from either the sea, the Mekong, or Tonle Sap. These fish are big, with beautiful white flesh, and fewer choking-hazard-bones. We eat this fish with SPICY tuk trai (fish sauce) and fresh veggies. My mouth is watering just thinking about this meal.
4. Sautéed pumpkin vine.
5. Sautéed Trakuon (morning glory but not the morning glory you're thinking of.)
6. And watermelon still surprises me. I never thought I would get over the texture of this fruit but now I can eat an entire watermelon in one sitting (they're a little smaller here...)
And then there are the foods that I've tried because I pretty much try anything within reason, but for whatever reason, just don't know how to eat. "Aut je nyam" is a wonderful phrase that Khmer people use when they are not particularly fond of a certain food. It means I don't know how to eat that. It's a great tool here except it doesn't always work on my host mom. Sometimes, regardless of whether I say "aut je nyam" or not, she might just pile something on my plate and say "nyam baan tic, nyam baan tic!" or "just eat a little." Well....if you insist.
I do not know how to eat:
1. ANTS! I hate ants. SO MUCH! They are likely to take over this country any time now. Unless Khmer people continue to eat them...but I will not eat them...so I will just encourage others to eat them for me. But Khmer people LOVE ants. And these ants are gigantic! About the size of a baby hippopotamus. They especially love them in a sour ant soup. This is the best way to eat ants because sometimes when I am humoring my host mom by eating a spoonful, the ant's claws will hook onto my lips and hang there. In complete disgust and fear, I TEAR the ant off of my lip and throw it on the ground, all the while maintaining a presence of complete calm and composure in front of my host family. Ahhh...they didn't even notice me freak out...
2. Other bugs; crickets (because they resemble cockroaches way too much) and cockroaches, I don't eat them. I do want to try a fried tarantula though. Soon.
3. Prahok. Some forms of this are tolerable but not beyond 2-4 bites.
4. Creatures with shells or protective homes surrounding their bodies. I will eat them but not always with delight. Snails - least like. Shellfish - not bad.
5. Raw-ish shrimp. I did this once because my host dad was doing it. It was not pleasant and I was slightly unhappy when I realized everyone else in my host family thought it was weird and gross.
And last but not least...
WORK. This was what I was loathing to summarize when I started this blog post. I had some failed attempts at work this year. I am most disappointed in my lack of follow through with teaching at the primary school. I was really looking forward to this before I actually got into the school and started "teaching." The first couple of weeks was fulfilling enough, especially compared to what I wasn't doing at the health center. My favorite part about teaching was leaving the school at the end of my lesson...because I had 6 million children trying to hold my hand as I walked to my house. But there were so many factors that led me to believe that teaching is NOT my forte. This was hard for me to accept. I was a teacher for all of my stuffed animals sitting in their makeshift desks made from drawers of my old creaky dresser when I was six years old. I never failed my stuffed animals; how could I fail my real-live-breathing-children that consider me a celebrity?
Like I said, teaching is not my forte as far as I know and without proper training on HOW to teach I won't really know. I am not interested in preparing lessons; I prefer to "wing-it." And very seriously: how does one ACTUALLY TEACH? It's simply beyond me at this point. I applaud those that know the secret. Besides that, the "classes" I was teaching were not organized in any way, shape, or form. Kids of all ages continued to pile into the library and most of them were not paying attention to me. The teachers in the back of the room wanted me to teach them English but for some reason they could not fathom having a separate lesson from the kids at a different time. In the end, I was fed up and stopped showing up. I'm not proud of this but on the other hand, I started to find a place in the health center and finally felt good about it.
Sit! Good baby.
It's not a lot to brag about but I really LOVE weighing babies. I now feel confident enough to approach mothers coming to the health center and I ask them what they are there for. Most of the mothers are there for vaccinations for their babes. So I bring the moms and babes to the vaccination room, weigh the babes, and mark their weight on the growth monitoring chart. I mention whether or not the child is at a healthy weight for their age and try to give advice if the baby is under weight. My main goal in doing this is to show the health center staff that I do this EVERY TIME A BABY COMES IN TO GET A VACCINATION. Not once in a while (yu yu m'dong.) Every damn dong! (Every damn time!) Consistency. I hope that the health center staff will take note of what I'm doing and eventually start doing it themselves and do it even better because they speak Khmer quite better than me. And hopefully they will be able to encourage mothers to pay more attention to what their babes are eating or not eating.
I heart you.
My time at the health center everyday is short. There is just not enough for me to do. Luckily I've supplemented my work load by taking on illustration jobs. I have been drawing some of the most dull, and strange, and repetitive drawings that will be used in training manuals for present and future Peace Corps Cambodia volunteers. I really like doing this. Sometimes I feel like my eyes are bleeding by the time I'm finished with a handful of organs or proper first aid drawings but it's worth it. It's going to be nice to see all of my drawings nicely placed within the pages of manuals that will make the lives of Health Education volunteers much easier. (Hopefully.)
This babies name is "Laura (Lo-rah in Khmer)"
I helped a neighboring health center get a new latrine built - the conclusion to this project can be found HERE.
My health center will be getting a make-over in September thanks to the US Navy. A couple Navy engineers and US Embassy employees visited the Tramkok health center earlier this month and made an assessment on what could be repaired based on a $200K grant for humanitarian assistance construction within Takeo province. My health center director was hoping for a lot of new things, including a new roof for our secondary building. When the engineers looked at the 35 year old building, they all cringed a little. If the roof was torn off to build a new one, it would not happen because the building itself is too dangerous. The building is falling apart. So I wrote up a proposal to get the old building demolished and replaced! If this proposal gets approved, the building should be completed in two years. I might not be here by the time the grand opening happens, but I am so happy to even have a chance of this happening for the Tramkok health center. We hope.
Howee. I think I am done summarizing my year. It was so hard to start this summary but it was almost harder to stop once I got started.
My neighbors dog (my best friend): he's deaf and a cartoon. I love him.
Peace.
Love.
Dove.
Yay selling amazing little things she made out of probably banana leaves.
This year flew by but if you asked the past-Laura, Laura in January for example, she would say that time was CRAWLING by. It's odd how time in this country creeps along. It was really difficult to get this particular blog post started because I was, first of all, worried that I don't have a lot to show for after a whole year in Peace Corps. And second of all, where do I even begin? There is actually a lot to say but how does one sum up a year of being pulled up from the roots and dropped into an unknown land?
little girl strolling in Kampot town
BOOKS. I read a personal record number of books this past year....Approximately 25 books so far. That's an average of about 2 books per month. Way better than my reading average in USA of about 2 books every 4 months or so. Reading now takes precedent over movie and TV show watching for me. I consider this great progress toward improved brain nourishment. I'm trying to read all the books I should have read during middle school, high school, and college. I am not well-read and am severely lacking the the Classics department. So PLEASE! If you have any recommendations, please send them my way. Must feed brain.
LANGUAGE! Huh, I guess that could be considered somewhat significant. A little over a year ago, I had trouble saying "hello" in Khmer. Now, I can make my way through a day in a village; eat breakfast at the market, chat with folks at the coffee shop, and awkwardly try to explain student loans to the health center staff IN KHMER! Luckily, I continue to learn more each day. I have a long way to go but I am happy with my language skills at this point. There are more than 12 million people that speak Khmer in the world. Out of a population of over 7 billion people, I'd say it's something to be proud of to speak such an antiquated language. Soksabaii. Happy healthy.
Khmer Family. Living with a Khmer family was one of my biggest challenges and stressors this year. It was most difficult because I went from living somewhat on my own for practically 7 years, to living within a household in a completely different cultural context than my own. I lost control of when and what I ate on a daily basis. I no longer had free reign over my own room - decorating, nesting, etc. I was also moved around from room to room within the house and that was stressful and confusing to me.
My Lovely Host Parents: Sok Sovanara & Srey Kompeak
After all the stress and confusion settled at home, I was able to realize that I could not/would not trade my adoptive Khmer family for another one. My host mom and I have a special connection and she was the first one to ever mention this. I do things that I usually would not do for her, because I want to make her happy. It's the least I can do since she welcomed me into her home, feeds me more than enough food, and is always making sure I am happy. And she continues to remind me "Kom kut ch'raan" or "don't think too much." These words have now become a personal mantra that I think to myself when I am indeed "thinking too much."
Speaking of feeding me: My host mom just gave me some bananas...
This past year, I watched my little host brother Theva grow up right before my eyes. He was a shy, chubby, silly 13 year old boy when I first met him. He is slowly growing into a young man; growing taller and stretching the chubbiness out, his voice is lower, and he's more confident with each day. I watched my host sister Srey Neang's pregnant belly grow and felt helpless when she suffered with unending nausea and morning (or evening) sickness. She gave birth in May to a sweet little girl that they call Lita. I get to watch her and her husband raise the little one and I am impressed with their parenting skills. I'm happy to report that she is already a smart, happy, and healthy baby.
Travel. I never imagined I would be serving the Peace Corps in South East Asia but I must say, I am lucky. This side of the world is incredible. So much history and such a different cultural setting than I've ever experienced. I am also so close to places I only dreamed of visiting. India for one, I previously treated as a travel "hoop-dream". I didn't think I'd get a chance to travel to India until much later in my life but lo! and behold! I made my way through southern India earlier this year and plan on returning to explore the northern parts of India in the future.
Bike adventures are endless.
Something even more surprising to me, is all the wonders that Cambodia contains in such a small and somewhat modest country. Most of us are aware of Angkor Wat which I not only had the privilege to see but I also ran my first half marathon all around the fallen Empire. Not many people can say that. Beyond the deep-seated history that I'm fortunate to be surrounded by, I also have access to rivers, the Gulf of Thailand, the ocean (well, South China Sea...) and ISLANDS! I'm practically in paradise.
Cans on Cans on Cans - life on the island is tough.
Food. For the most part, I have not been disappointed by food in this country. EXCEPT FOR THE EXCESS OF RICE but that's a rant for another day. My host mom is an excellent cook and I am very seriously excited every night for our meals together. This is also when I finally get to spend quality time with my host family since everyone is busy throughout the day. The most unexpected foods that I LOVE and never thought I'd be eating are as follows (in order of most favorite):
1. Frogs. Especially when they are in this soup that includes lemon grass, chili peppers, basil, and other things unknown to me.
2. Baan Chaiov (especially with fried quivtio noodles(thick white noodles)) I've talked about this one before - it's like a Khmer crepe and so so good.) I can get this number for about 37 cents at my market. Mmmmmm Khmer breakfast......
3. Fish. Some fish, particularly when it comes from either the sea, the Mekong, or Tonle Sap. These fish are big, with beautiful white flesh, and fewer choking-hazard-bones. We eat this fish with SPICY tuk trai (fish sauce) and fresh veggies. My mouth is watering just thinking about this meal.
4. Sautéed pumpkin vine.
5. Sautéed Trakuon (morning glory but not the morning glory you're thinking of.)
6. And watermelon still surprises me. I never thought I would get over the texture of this fruit but now I can eat an entire watermelon in one sitting (they're a little smaller here...)
And then there are the foods that I've tried because I pretty much try anything within reason, but for whatever reason, just don't know how to eat. "Aut je nyam" is a wonderful phrase that Khmer people use when they are not particularly fond of a certain food. It means I don't know how to eat that. It's a great tool here except it doesn't always work on my host mom. Sometimes, regardless of whether I say "aut je nyam" or not, she might just pile something on my plate and say "nyam baan tic, nyam baan tic!" or "just eat a little." Well....if you insist.
I do not know how to eat:
1. ANTS! I hate ants. SO MUCH! They are likely to take over this country any time now. Unless Khmer people continue to eat them...but I will not eat them...so I will just encourage others to eat them for me. But Khmer people LOVE ants. And these ants are gigantic! About the size of a baby hippopotamus. They especially love them in a sour ant soup. This is the best way to eat ants because sometimes when I am humoring my host mom by eating a spoonful, the ant's claws will hook onto my lips and hang there. In complete disgust and fear, I TEAR the ant off of my lip and throw it on the ground, all the while maintaining a presence of complete calm and composure in front of my host family. Ahhh...they didn't even notice me freak out...
2. Other bugs; crickets (because they resemble cockroaches way too much) and cockroaches, I don't eat them. I do want to try a fried tarantula though. Soon.
3. Prahok. Some forms of this are tolerable but not beyond 2-4 bites.
4. Creatures with shells or protective homes surrounding their bodies. I will eat them but not always with delight. Snails - least like. Shellfish - not bad.
5. Raw-ish shrimp. I did this once because my host dad was doing it. It was not pleasant and I was slightly unhappy when I realized everyone else in my host family thought it was weird and gross.
And last but not least...
WORK. This was what I was loathing to summarize when I started this blog post. I had some failed attempts at work this year. I am most disappointed in my lack of follow through with teaching at the primary school. I was really looking forward to this before I actually got into the school and started "teaching." The first couple of weeks was fulfilling enough, especially compared to what I wasn't doing at the health center. My favorite part about teaching was leaving the school at the end of my lesson...because I had 6 million children trying to hold my hand as I walked to my house. But there were so many factors that led me to believe that teaching is NOT my forte. This was hard for me to accept. I was a teacher for all of my stuffed animals sitting in their makeshift desks made from drawers of my old creaky dresser when I was six years old. I never failed my stuffed animals; how could I fail my real-live-breathing-children that consider me a celebrity?
Like I said, teaching is not my forte as far as I know and without proper training on HOW to teach I won't really know. I am not interested in preparing lessons; I prefer to "wing-it." And very seriously: how does one ACTUALLY TEACH? It's simply beyond me at this point. I applaud those that know the secret. Besides that, the "classes" I was teaching were not organized in any way, shape, or form. Kids of all ages continued to pile into the library and most of them were not paying attention to me. The teachers in the back of the room wanted me to teach them English but for some reason they could not fathom having a separate lesson from the kids at a different time. In the end, I was fed up and stopped showing up. I'm not proud of this but on the other hand, I started to find a place in the health center and finally felt good about it.
Sit! Good baby.
It's not a lot to brag about but I really LOVE weighing babies. I now feel confident enough to approach mothers coming to the health center and I ask them what they are there for. Most of the mothers are there for vaccinations for their babes. So I bring the moms and babes to the vaccination room, weigh the babes, and mark their weight on the growth monitoring chart. I mention whether or not the child is at a healthy weight for their age and try to give advice if the baby is under weight. My main goal in doing this is to show the health center staff that I do this EVERY TIME A BABY COMES IN TO GET A VACCINATION. Not once in a while (yu yu m'dong.) Every damn dong! (Every damn time!) Consistency. I hope that the health center staff will take note of what I'm doing and eventually start doing it themselves and do it even better because they speak Khmer quite better than me. And hopefully they will be able to encourage mothers to pay more attention to what their babes are eating or not eating.
I heart you.
My time at the health center everyday is short. There is just not enough for me to do. Luckily I've supplemented my work load by taking on illustration jobs. I have been drawing some of the most dull, and strange, and repetitive drawings that will be used in training manuals for present and future Peace Corps Cambodia volunteers. I really like doing this. Sometimes I feel like my eyes are bleeding by the time I'm finished with a handful of organs or proper first aid drawings but it's worth it. It's going to be nice to see all of my drawings nicely placed within the pages of manuals that will make the lives of Health Education volunteers much easier. (Hopefully.)
I helped a neighboring health center get a new latrine built - the conclusion to this project can be found HERE.
My health center will be getting a make-over in September thanks to the US Navy. A couple Navy engineers and US Embassy employees visited the Tramkok health center earlier this month and made an assessment on what could be repaired based on a $200K grant for humanitarian assistance construction within Takeo province. My health center director was hoping for a lot of new things, including a new roof for our secondary building. When the engineers looked at the 35 year old building, they all cringed a little. If the roof was torn off to build a new one, it would not happen because the building itself is too dangerous. The building is falling apart. So I wrote up a proposal to get the old building demolished and replaced! If this proposal gets approved, the building should be completed in two years. I might not be here by the time the grand opening happens, but I am so happy to even have a chance of this happening for the Tramkok health center. We hope.
Howee. I think I am done summarizing my year. It was so hard to start this summary but it was almost harder to stop once I got started.
My neighbors dog (my best friend): he's deaf and a cartoon. I love him.
Peace.
Love.
Dove.
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