ស្រីកំដរ(ក្នុងពិធីរៀបការ) ស្រីកំដរ(ក្នុងពិធីរៀបការ) (No I cannot read that)

So, I have this host uncle. Don't know his name; we'll just call him "Boo" which is uncle in Khmer.

And Boo has this daughter whom I've never met. She got married this weekend, so I met her there. No big deal, I was one of her bridesmaids.

How did that happen exactly? Good question...I'll tell you how I finally figured out that I was indeed going to be a bridesmaid in my first ever Khmer wedding (attending and/or participating.)

Boo comes over to my house every once in a while to eat dinner with my family. Boo likes me, I think. He talks to me and I agree with enthusiasm to everything he says to me. Unfortunately he sounds like he's talking with marbles in his mouth so I never know what I'm agreeing to when I do so. Months ago I was able to pick up through our difficult conversation that his daughter would be getting married in January. "Cool" I thought, "I really want to show off my dance moves during the reception."

As we neared the date of the wedding, Boo would come over and mumble some things about me and babies and how they'd be pretty or something or other. The harder I tried to listen, the less I understood of his muffled speech. It was a fun game to guess what he was saying. He would hold my hand for a little too long, and holding my hand at all is unusual for any Khmer man to do. I told him my mom was coming in February and he said she should come in January instead to attend the wedding. I told him it's very difficult to change airline tickets and also very expensive. Since he thinks me and my American family are rich, he kind of scoffed at my response. Money shouldn't be an issue, what's important is that my mom attends the wedding.

About a week before the wedding, Boo came over for dinner once again; held my hand, talked about the wedding, and I only took in so much information. Then, my host mom said some things (in Khmer) like "put on make-up and dress..." and then I said "yes! yes!" And I smiled for everyone to let them know I would do whatever they wanted me to do. The way my host mom explained this to me, the dressing up and make-up and stuff, made me think...maybe perhaps I will be in this wedding?

Khmer weddings are typically about two days long and day one was set for January 19th. I didn't know when or how anything would pan out, I just waited patiently for my host mom to give me the signal. I waited around on Saturday morning, twiddled my thumbs, got tired of sitting around so I went to the market for my ice coffee fix. Finally I was told by my host pa that host mom was at the salon and that she was calling for me.

And this is where I got my first set of fake nails.

Awww yeah, I instagrammed that shiiiit. Gross.


It was at the beauty salon that I really REALLY started to think I was to be a bridesmaid for this shindig. The head midwife from the health center came to get her hair did and talked to my host mom about the wedding. Through my excellent listening skills (I can listen/understand Khmer much better than I can speak it) I heard the midwife ask "how is Laura going to be the bridesmaid when she doesn't even know the bride?" I was thinking the same thing. Then host mom explained that host Boo loves me and that he really wanted me to be in the ceremony (or something like that.) Then I thought to myself "Self, are you really gonna be a bridesmaid for the first time in your life in a Khmer wedding?" But I didn't want to jinx myself by thinking too excitedly that I was really going to be in the wedding. So I played it cool, yo.

Khmer weddings are all about tradition and loud music being amplified for all the neighboring provinces to hear. Day one was more intimate, with mostly gung-ho yays and immediate family members. And me, of course. The first ceremony I attended was to ask for the elders blessing in order for the bride and groom to marry. Apparently this ceremony is called "Inviting the Elders to Chew Betel Nut."

Ceremony #1 with the traditional Khmer band


The groom, bride, and parents


For some reason, there was also spraying of cologne. Boo went around spraying everyone's head. It was entertaining but not the most pleasant smelling cologne.

everyone clearly loves this part of the ceremony


even the kids think the music is a little loud


I was not involved in day one of the wedding, which made me question my very participation in the wedding. Luckily for me, the groom's sister was practically fluent in English and was able to clarify for me that I was indeed a bridesmaid. Even with this solidified information in my brain, I was still worried about how it would all work. "What clothing was I to wear? Do they provide the clothing for me? I hope they put make-up on my face to make me look like Jennifer Lopez." I was awkward and unsure in all of my thoughts especially because I was told I wouldn't be sleeping in my own bed but on the wood floor of a random house with many random people for the night. That night also happened to be the coldest night I have ever experienced in Cambodia and all I had to keep myself warm was a towel. I curled up in the fetal position in order to get optimum coverage with the towel from head to toe. As I was sweetly falling asleep, Boo woke me to tell me he was putting a blanket on me. "oh, gee...thanks Boo...but you didn't have to wake me up for that..."

Sleeping on the floor was not really any issue for me since sleeping on the floor was one of my favorite things to do as a wee little one. However, oftentimes when I sleep in foreign places I tend to wake up extremely early and don't know what to do with myself. I was always the first one awake during sleepover parties. So, of course I woke up at 3:30AM. The application of cosmetics and hairspray begins at 4AM (along with the amplified Khmer music) anyway so I was on the right track to bridesmaidship.

I was the first one to get my mask put on and then I sat around for 2 hours. Finally, my hair was quickly crimped and put up, with hair extensions and orchids to accent. Then the first costume was put on. All of the wedding party was dressed in shiny gold outfits. This outfit was by far my favorite. Unfortunately I do not have photos but hope to acquire ALL photos of myself from the official photographers of the wedding.

The Bride or "Goan Kr'mum" getting all done up. Kr'mum alone means virgin.


One of my fellow Bridesmaid's hair. I was super jealous cuz the other bridesmaids had long luscious locks and didn't require extensions.


We finally made our public entrance at 8:30AM (I've already been awake for 5 hours! what?!) We walked in a procession through all the guests seated in the shape of an aisle. Then the entertainers, a man and woman dressed in traditional Khmer garb as well, walked down the aisle and sang about the 36 fruits that must be given as gifts to the couple. There must be at least 36 fruits present during this ceremony or something bad happens...I don't really know this but I'm sure it would be chaotic if there were not 36 fruits present.

Then we returned to our hot and stuffy room for a costume change. Next we were all dressed in shiny pink outfits with the funny Khmer puffy MC Hammer pants.

In our "dressing room"


And next was the hair cutting ceremony. The whole wedding party walked around a table and then almost every guest symbolically cut the hair of the bride and groom. This represents a fresh start in their relationship. This is also to wish them happiness, prosperity, and longevity.

Following this ceremony, we finally ate lunch and I had a hefty headache. My host family left me to go hang out at the lake and I sat around for several hours. But fortunately, I found an American girl at the ceremony! She was also stuck at the party for the long haul because her host mom was the groom's sister. Kate (that is my new American friend's name) was fresh to Cambodia, only a week and a 1/2 into her 12 week study abroad program. I rambled on and on to this poor girl because it was such a relief to speak English. We both were experiencing what may be considered "Caffeine headaches" as we did not get our fix of coffee yet. Being the prized foreigners at the wedding, someone was sent out to get the coffee for us. Talk about service!

And then I had to leave her to get my second layer of make-up and hair done.

The other two Bridesmaids: we were rushed to get our hair/make-up fixed up only to sit for another hour.


Then we stood at the entrance of the party for about two hours with the groomsmen to greet the guests coming in for the real party. Every guest received party favors (fruit shaped keychains!) at the entrance. I was a spectacle, believe it or not. My favorite part was blowing the minds of a couple of my high school students and health center staff. They were shocked to see me at the wedding at all...let alone with traditional Khmer garb on. It was awesome.

After the last guests trickled in, we had one last costume change into our party dresses and one last ceremony. We walked around a table again, three times. Then the bride and groom lit candles. The wax of the candle represents anger and by burning it, it's an agreement of the newlyweds to not be angry with each other in their marriage. Then we finally got to eat dinner. I ate a little Khmer salad, some cashews, and drank half a beer until I was forced onto the dance floor. Now's my time to shine!

How many times can you dance around a circle until it gets beyond boring? Apparently, it never gets old for Khmer people since we danced around the same table for 3 hours straight. I busted out my latest moves and once again, blew the minds of everyone. Who knew the twist was such an impressive dance move?!

I was followed around by far too many overly eager and drunken older Khmer men. My host family did not seem to catch onto my body language/distressed face as I tried to escape the strange convulsive dancing of these men. But rather than letting these guys ruin my night, I just embraced my extreme exhaustion by dancing even stranger because everyone thought my moves were the cat's pajamas. Indeed, they were.

I, on the other hand, was entranced by the moves of an unsung dancing queen. He wore green camouflage pants, gold spray painted army boots, and a skin tight yellow t-shirt that read "SINGLE SINGLE SINGLE" in shiny gold lettering. He danced in his own world, his eyes shut, toes pointed, and leaning as far back as possible as if to win the imaginary game of Limbo. He pointed his fingers to the sky, sometimes his pointer fingers but sometimes his middle fingers. Luckily it doesn't mean the same thing in Cambodia as it does in America. It probably means nothing in Cambodia.

Dancing 50 more times around the table and I was finally able to go home. And I can say, without a doubt, that this was my favorite and most memorable fully Khmer experience so far.

Still looking fly after 20 straight hours of Khmer wedding madness.


Perhaps I will have a Khmer wedding of my own someday............................................................

New friends, Old friends, Medium friends, and bikes.

Part 1: "treat-yo-self" 2013


I took a "treat-yo-self" trip to Kampot town this weekend. It was a toss-up between super-Khmer-happy-family-3-day-overload-trip-to-Battambang-for-some-sort-of-party-thing or bike-to-Kampot-meet-with-old-college-buddy-eat-awesome-food-relax-drink-things-be-happy-merry-sanity-weekend.

"Hmmm....now that one right there is a toughie! What to do, what to do?" <-insert Minnesotan mom accent.

Kampot won this round.

Here's a bird I met in Kampot


Saturday morning - I woke up at 5AM, ate a Luna bar, accidentally woke up host brother because I klutzed around in the dark and knocked things over, loaded up the bike rack, and finally got out of the house at 5:54AM. Kampot here I come! The bike ride is about 2.5 hours for me. I was motivated by the music in my ears and the potential of meeting up with an old college buddy (I'm talkin' like I'm in my 40s...it's only been 4 years since I graduated), Nan Onkka (her name is like the Khmer word for organization! I forgot to tell her that...)

I arrived in Kampot around 8:30AM, drank coffee, listened to foreigners speak in their fancy languages; I thought they were French. I decided a shower was necessary; just cuz I'm a Peace Corps Volunteer doesn't mean I have to be dirty/sweaty/smelly/awkward. As I was leaving the coffee shop, the "French" folks said "goodbye" to me and asked me where I was from. From there our goodbye became a 30 minute conversation. And in truth, they were not French but Belgium. Ah, oh...you know those fancy European languages all sound the same. My bad.

This Belgium couple was wonderful. It turned out they were on a 5 month biking adventure through Asia. Impressive because they were not particularly young (perhaps in their 50s?) but obviously very fit and well traveled. They began their journey in Thailand, were now beginning their Khmer voyage, heading up toward Laos, and onward to China. Holy moley! And I thought I was a BAMF for biking almost 60k that morning! Not so.

I proceeded with the "treat-yo-self" theme and shacked up in a guesthouse room with TWO beds! I proclaimed one bed as the "stuff-bed", a term used by PCVs to describe the bed used to put all your shit on. The other bed is, of course, the bed used for sleeping.

I took a fake shower; a term I used in college to explain the shower in which hair is wetted but not washed. A magic shower is one in which you do not get your hair wet. After that I went to another coffee shop, bought another coffee; this one I did not add sugar to and I was proud of myself for drinking it in its unadulterated state. After a game of Facebook message tag, Nan and I found each other!

Reunited and it feels so good. We reminisced about college, (we met in Spanish class with Professor Narvaez), and generally brought each other up to speed on the 4 years since we last spoke. Nan has a pretty sweet life going on for herself. She lives in Northern India in the mountains and teaches art at a world renowned International school called "Woodstock" to very well off students from all around the Eastern world. The classroom is, however, heated with a stove and has a tin roof. Very interesting.

I gave her travel advice for Cambodia and she made recommendations for travel in India. I'm planning on going to India with PCV homies in April/May. I'm excited and lucky to have India connections. This world is pretty neat.

It was nearing lunchtime and (I don't know if anyone's noticed) I've only eaten a Luna bar since 5AM and consumed two cups of hot coffee. Nan had food waiting for her at her guesthouse and I foresaw a cheeseburger in my future. We parted ways and forgot to take a photo to prove to the world that we did indeed meet in Cambodia.

The cheeseburger was delicious.

Alleyway in Kampot. Noodle sheets drying.


Then I went back to my room with two beds and thought about napping but also thought I heard banging on my door. I opened the door and two backpacking dudes were scoping out the room next door to mine. They were trying to work the guesthouse lady down from $7 to $6 and I told them it wasn't gonna happen. Then they asked me if I owned the guesthouse. Ha. I said no but did say that if they wanted, they could stay in my room since I was alone and had an extra bed. Now, I know what you're thinking..."Laura, you just met these strangers and you let them stay in your room? That doesn't seem very safe..." I know, I know....but I'm a decent judge of "creep" vs. "not creep" characters and these guys were far on the "not creep" side of the scale. PLUS! We'd split the cost of one room! Only down side was that I no longer had a "stuff-bed." It was a worthy sacrifice.

My new friends hailed from Israel. My first set of Israeli friends - Re'im and Mischa. They were starving so I took them out to find food. They ate burgers too. I instantly connected with these two. They were very fun and easy to talk to. We talked about Khmer culture and I told them the funny word combinations I knew in Khmer; for example - "mien p'tayah pbooah", which means pregnant literally translates to "stomach house." Pretty cool, huh? I think so.

Before I left the next morning, I left my Israeli friends a toilet paper message and cash for the room. I had no real paper and TP was the next best option. I ate some amazing french toast and drank hot coffee to stimulate my bowels before biking back to my home. This was very necessary. And I was off by 7:30AM.

Part 2: The real ride

The bike ride out of Kampot town always reminds me of Cambodia's distinct beauty. At my site, I'm generally surrounded by flat rice paddy fields and trash but look out into the distance and I'm encased by mountains. My morning bike ride included misty mountain tops and a dreamlike landscape for extra biking pleasure. The first hour and a half was a challenge with headwind and slight inclines that are slightly annoying.

Not my photo but this is what it looks like riding out of Kampot


This time my ride was motivated by the music in my ears and a scheduled meet-up with my PCV friend Emma. We met in Chhuk which is about 18k from my town and the site of another volunteer but he was still in K-town. From there, Emma and I biked to Chumkiri which is the site of yet another volunteer. An infamous PCV by the name of Bruce whom I had never met before. Chumkiri is a pretty flat, hot, and boring 13k ride from Chhuk.

This is Emma. She is my friend.


I met Bruce, he showed us around his village, we ate lunch and dessert, and then met up with one of our PC Khmer teachers, Savin. Our next destination was Malayk. It's a lake, surrounded by mountains, and a pretty sweet Khmer hangout place. My family took me there once and I watched them play cards. Here's where I was introduced to the crazy-biking-spirit that is Bruce. We hopped on our bikes and took a sharp right turn off the main road. Emma and I said "goodbye" to Bruce as he flew down the lumpy, bumpy, sandy road off into the distance. Savin followed us in his moto; he was content with the easy pace down the small road.

Everyone, meet Bruce. This is Bruce.


There were moments on this trip to Malayk when Emma and I had to walk our bikes because the loose sand was impossible to ride through. It was like being stuck in the snow and it took so much effort to get through that all we could do was laugh at ourselves. Bruce informed us afterward that there were shortcuts to avoid the sand dunes. Ah, we were unaware. We were chased by dogs and I feared for my ankles while speeding off of their property.

This is Malyk - A LAKE.


Khmer people laughed as us as we grunted and screamed out while biking past their homes on the treacherous road. And this is when I remembered that biking in the Cambodian countryside is one of the most enjoyable experiences I've had so far. It's far superior to my rides down the National highways.

After much sweating and near falls, we made it to Malayk. We took a break, rehydrated, and discussed our next plan of action. We will bike around Malayk. Bruce has never successfully circled the lake but he's sure that we can do it. The woman at the small food stand was worried we'd get lost. We went anyway and thought we could follow the cow trails, closer to the water's edge. We biked along precariously on the small rice paddy paths and took a sharp right turn to make our way to the cows. Emma, however, didn't quite make the turn and took a spill, right in front of a Khmer family just standing there in awe of the barangs biking around like fools.

We all underestimated Emma's condition. Emma was nervous to continue on but Bruce tried to push us forward, toward the lake, and there we could discuss our next move. It was then that I noticed the blood dripping down Emma's leg. "Umm....so...you're bleeding a lot." Emma and I quickly inspected the damage and could hardly look at her knee. It was basically a hole in her knee, skin flaps and all. Bruce said it looked fine. That was his trick, he stated, learned from first aid training. Tell the person it looks way better than it actually does. You don't want the injured individual to panic. I was somewhat panicked and it wasn't even my knee!

Emma; post-hole-in-knee.


The great bike disaster.


A kromah was wrapped around the knee-hole and we called upon Savin to save us somehow. He, being the fluent Khmer speaker, was able to explain the situation best. We debated where to go from there. Emma definitely needed stitches for her knee-hole-flaps.

This is Savin. What a good guy.


Meanwhile, Bruce simply strapped Emma's bike onto his bike rack. Piece of cake. Bruce will ride two bikes at one time with skills beyond my ability. Laura will just watch with constant worry that Bruce will be the next one to fall and injure himself.

Bruce, just riding two bikes. NBD.


Bruce miraculously made it back to the food stall in one piece, along with the bike still strapped to his rack. From there we called Emma's host family and the PC medical staff, both were pretty useless but the PC medical staff was adamant that her wound be cleaned first. There were several places she could go such as my health center but did she really want to go there? NO. The thought of getting stitches in a health center was frightening...considering what I've seen on an everyday basis at the HC. Henceforth, Emma was shipped to Chhuk's referral hospital to get it cleaned. And then to Phnom Penh for the stitches. Thank goodness.

Bruce and I biked like the wind down the path to the National highway. Bruce, looking like a badass, with the bike still strapped on his rack and me not looking like a badass. We biked so fast down the terrible, rocky, dirt road that the turbulence was hardly noticeable. We biked back to my house since it would be most convenient for Emma to pick up her bike there once she is able to bike again. Bruce stayed for tea, bought some bike grease, and then set-off for his long ride back to his site in Chumkiri where our adventure began.

And now I can officially say that my hipster status is being demoted because I love my mountain bike.

And then, in the safety of my home - the sky rained.

who am I?

January 15th, 2013 will be my 6 month mark. I'm nearing 6 months in the Kingdom of Wonder and it continues to leave me wondering.

I've been living with my host family and village for 4 months now, and at times I feel ashamed by the lack of personal connections I've made so far with my family, community members, and co-workers. This feeling ebbs and flows with each day which makes everything here so much more challenging for me. With so much time already passed, I feel like I'm not meeting my own expectations.

I think back to my first unofficial day of college. The first day of Cross Country camp. I walked toward Ytterboe Hall with my bag and watched the other girls bounce around joyfully as if this wasn't all completely new to them. I remember Laura Melcher and her amazingly curly locks and thinking "she must be a junior or something; she looks mature." I remember Nicole Novak, stoic and tall as she will always be, eating brownies or cookies or something and thinking "I think we could be good friends."

Nicole is the tall and stoic one on the right


I almost didn't join Cross Country at St Olaf but it wasn't because I didn't want to. It was because I was overlooked for some reason. I don't know how it happened but I wasn't on any of the lists of first year students interested in the sport. (How could they?! I'm the fastest runner in the world!) And St Olaf, of all private colleges, is open to runners of all shapes, sizes, and abilities. St Olaf has an exceptional Cross Country team because of it's immense team and "diversity." I say "diversity" like this because it wasn't a culturally or ethnically diverse team by any means. But it wasn't just a team compiled carefully of the sought out, stick thin, varsity running prototypes either. This is what made the St Olaf CC team special.

And before I knew anything about the great history of the St Olaf Women's CC team, I simply sat back and observed the mad interactions of the sophomore, junior, and senior women. At first I thought to myself "Oh dear, what have I gotten myself into?" I was afraid I wouldn't make any friends. I was especially concerned for myself because I was quieter than I had been in perhaps a decade...which is a long time for an 18 year old!

I realized that the shy little 5 year old Laura still existed inside me and I was shocked. I was, however, able to express the weird, LOUD, and silly Laura in different ways; more subtle ways. I had these awesome shoes that were bright green, yellow, and black. They looked like the Jamaican flag, actually. And to go with my shoes, I had a neon yellow bag that I always carried around my shoulder.

Shy Little 5 year old Laura. Maybe I'M 5. I don't know


It wasn't long before I made eye contact with Caitlin Molsberry from across the room and felt all warm and fuzzy. She was my savior. She may not even know this, but I think she helped me open up because she was so welcoming, gregarious, and had a mile long smile. It didn't take long for the St Olaf Women's CC team to become my family.

The Junior CC runners 2006 - we have no excuse for our behavior, Caitlin is the one eating me, Laura Melcher and I are the dweebs in front....



Left to Right: Caitlin - Sailor, Laurax - Pirate, Laura - Sailor, Nicole - Sailor


Meanwhile in Cambodia, I still find that the shy little 5 year old Laura is immobilizing weird, LOUD, and silly Laura. This makes me sad when I think about it for too long. I am so reserved and stiff around even my host family and I don't want to be. I want to be myself but I don't know how to be myself in Khmer. I don't know how to be the goofy person that I really am while in a completely different culture. I don't know how to make jokes in Khmer and I don't understand most Khmer humor...but I laugh along anyway to pretend that I know what's going on.

Since I can't have deep conversations with adults in Cambodia, I turn to the kids in Cambodia. Instead of trying to understand what they say (because children only speak gibberish), I just make weird noises and dance with them. This is the best way I've found to avert most depressive thoughts.

My dance friends


I have to constantly remind myself that this was never supposed to be easy. That it does take time. That it will get easier to talk to people here. That my language will get better. That I'll actually start doing something productive. But it doesn't negate my experience NOW. I know it will get better - it already has gotten better. But it's still f*@$ing hard. And I will always be hard on myself (unless, of course, I get hypnotized or something. Anyone know of any good hypnotists/Gruu Khmers in Takeo Province?)

Other than yearning for the weird, LOUD, and silly Laura to finally be released into the Cambodian wild, I also yearn to utilize my strengths. Shout out to the StrengthsFinder 2.0!!!! I took the Strengths Finder quiz back at my old job in the US of A. It was something that my co-workers and I were slightly obsessed about. My boss made a graph-type thing of all our co-workers, our shared and different strengths. It was awesome.

Anyway my strengths, based on this quiz, turned out to be Adaptability, Developer, Empathy, Positivity, and (my favorite) Woo.

I'm pretty sure I've nailed down my skill of adaptability. That one is a given. Although, I don't want to pretend that I'm really roughing it out here on the other side of the world. I have it incredibly easy as far as living, eating, and amenities go, actually. This is Posh Corps as far as I'm concerned, which I'm not (I'm not concerned.) Some of my friends live in a bona fide "shit hole" over here. Their words, not mine. I live in a mansion. I am very lucky.

Have you seen my house? This is my Khmer Mansion. Posh Corps4Lyfe.


The strength I'm most in tune to is Empathy however it's severely stifled. My energy in empathy is being channeled mostly toward characters in books, episodes of Parks & Recreation, and music rather than the people around me.

Part of me believes this is happening because of the empathy or lack thereof I've witnessed in Cambodia. I've heard from several people that the word "Empathy" doesn't even exist in the Khmer language. While that may be true, it doesn't mean that it doesn't exist in the culture. It just means that it is expressed in a way that I cannot fully comprehend.

Some days in the health center I get so frustrated by the apathy of the staff. A child comes in with a gash in his head and there is laughter amongst the staff and parents when the child is screaming from the pain of the alcohol on his fresh wound. I cannot make sense this kind of reaction to pain and suffering. Laughter is often a reaction to discomfort or embarrassment in Khmer culture. How can I, as an outsider, understand whether or not the staff and parents are making fun or feeling discomfort, or empathy for this child? And how can I expect myself to try to understand this reaction given the country's dark and not so distant history?

I was reading a little something about Empathy and I seem to fall best into the "Personal Distress" category; where my ability to have empathy for a person can actually be detrimental for my own mental health and stress levels.

I think some of my empathy skills are muted in Cambodia but some are also EXTREMELY HEIGHTENED. For example, my host family had an aunt and uncle visiting from America today. It's been years since they've seen each other. I nearly started crying out of happiness for my host mom when she saw them. My host mom gave her aunt a HUG for crying out loud! Khmer people DON'T. HUG. This was a big deal and I could hardly compose myself.

My heightened empathy and overall emotions make me question my effectiveness and presence in the health center. I question my presence in the health center on a daily basis for many reasons, particularly for my extreme lack of medical expertise. But my ability to stomach the everyday illnesses and injuries is getting seriously tested and I'm not sure how good it is for my own sanity and wellbeing. There are some days that I see some pretty terrible things and feel myself getting pulled down, down, and down by the severity of health problems in this country. And for that to coincide with indifferent health care staff, I'm left feeling hopeless and still...useless.

HOWEVER! (I'm going to turn this around, I swear. I don't want you to leave my blog feeling depressed.) If I were sent here to improve health care in Cambodia, I wouldn't have been sent here! Wait, that's really confusing and poorly phrased. My title is Community Health Education Agent. For my remaining two years here, I will devote myself to the C in the CHE program. If I give myself time, I will be more comfortable in my community and the people in my community will be more comfortable with me. Through said comfort, I will build relationships and respect within the community. From there, I will make small steps to help my community take the right steps to improve their own lives. It's not about me, it's about the people here in this community and building on their strengths and abilities. I'm just going to act as a guiding force or maybe like a cow plowing the rice field or something.