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!

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

THE LITTLE BOY AND THE GRANDMA

For many years, I have enjoyed describing myself to other people as "the perfect mixture of a little boy and a grandma." I know it sounds strange but for anyone that knows me pretty well, they'd probably agree (I mean they BETTER agree.) I tend to be interested in things that little boys like. In high school I went through a Spiderman phase and wore Spiderman t-shirts from Target all the time. I still have my Spiderman toothbrush. I had Spiderman toys and actually played with them. Looking back now, I'm not really sure why I loved Spiderman so much, but either way, that was kind of the beginning of my strange obsession with things that little boys often like. (Now it's mostly limited to plastic animal toys...) There are also times that I maybe sorta act like a little boy...maybe perhaps I am loud and overly energetic. But I only act like this because I am TRULY EXTREMELY EXCITED about something that I believe deserves an enormous amount of excitement and energy. Ain't nothin' wrong with that!

The grandma in me is strong. She is actually suffering quite a bit in Cambodia. I have no estate sales to rummage through here. I have no aged lace adorning my nightstand. And walking through my neighborhood in Cambodia is not as relaxing and calming here as it was back in my quiet neighborhood in Minneapolis. The grandma in me greatly misses peace and quiet.

These may seem like contradicting personality types and I agree, they are quite different. However, I just so happen to be a "perfect mixture" of the two. Like I said, somehow, I can contain the qualities of a little boy and an old lady at the same time. I blame my parents (ain't got nobody else I can blame for this.)

And all of this brings me to a ceremony I attended last week.

I attended a ceremony similar to the one last week and talked about it back in September. Luckily my language has improved and I finally know what the ceremony is about. First of all, a ceremony is called "bon" in Khmer, which can also mean party in some situations. The bon that I attended last week and back in September was a yay ceremony. In Cambodia, they have ceremonies to celebrate their elders. It's really great. They respect their elders a great deal here and put a lot of effort into their ceremonies.

Yay Party.


My host family was running the show so we got there pretty early. It felt a little like I was back in Northern Minnesota at my aunt Marshelle's house. We were out in the boonies but the place was full of giant pick-up trucks and SUVs. A lot like being in Grygla, MN. As soon as I stepped out of the car, I was bombarded by the little boys I entertained during the last yay ceremony. And so we ran around, danced, and play-fought with each other. We made animal shapes with red wax. I tried to teach them stupid human tricks like whistling with your fingers, loon calls with your hands, and magically detaching/reattaching your thumb. Finally! I have someone to hang out with.


cool kid.


Kids have always been my saving grace in situations where I feel out of place here. Kids usually want to hang out with me (unless they are scared of me) and they don't really give a shit if I don't understand every word they're saying.


My friends.


Then my host mom called for me, told me to put my sampot (skirt) on and somphea the loaks (pray to the monks.) Time to say goodbye to my little friends and turn into a yay. Seriously, praying to the monks is a hardcore grandma sport.

When I stepped into the room full of approximately 100 yays, I was once again bombarded. Every yay in the room wanted me to sit next to her. I was a star! I sat by a couple of yays that were indulging in beetle nut and were almost as bad as the men that chew tobacco at baseball games. Each yay with red and rotted teeth had her own plastic bottle in which to spit in. Red spit spilling down the creases of their faces. And they had many questions to ask me.

Before the party, I had just returned from a very frustrating and damaging trip to Phnom Penh. In Phnom Penh, you need not speak much Khmer. You only do so to get a better deal on a tuk-tuk ride or bargain for a shirt at the market. So coming to the party after not speaking much Khmer was exhausting. Regardless of the mild exhaustion, I felt awesome because I could say and understand SO MUCH to the yays. Mostly I talked about my age, where I am from, why I'm not married yet, and the Khmer food that I like to eat. My favorite moment, however, was when I explained American food, i.e. "hamburgers" to the yays. They really liked the way I bit in to my imaginary hamburger and said "ch'nang na" (very delicious) afterwards.


Yays bath time.


Following the first round of praying was yays bath time. This is something I did not witness at the ceremony in September. All of the grandchildren and other relatives bathe the grandmother. Very ceremonial indeed. And after that was bor-bor time. AKA rice porridge lunch time. Good bor-bor usually consists of more than just watery rice. Good bor-bor that is often served at parties has mushrooms, chicken, sometimes pigs ear chunks (which I will only eat in bor-bor) in it. But what really makes good bor-bor is a hefty serving of bean sprouts and green onions, a squeeze of lime, some pepper, and spicy tuk-trai. Yuuuuuum. I had already eaten one serving of bor-bor with my little friends earlier in the day because I was "kleeun bai" or hungry for rice. While eating with the little boys, they were going at the bor-bor like champs. And one of my favorite lads said "nyam ch'ran chop pael tom-tom!" or "eat a lot stop when big-big!"

Yays getting good and ready for bor-bor. Noms (snacks) on the table already.


Round 2 of praying to the monks was truly a challenge and a feat to determine the most devout of yays. These women are out of control devoted when it's time to pray to the monks. There were three monks and each one prayed and gave something that I'd compare to a sermon. The first monk spoke for over an hour, the second for an hour and a half, and thank goodness the last monk only spoke for about 20 minutes tops. Toward the end of all the praying, many of the yays were folded over like fortune cookies, still with their hands together in prayer.

this is the best photo i could get in the dark. praying yay.


After that we ate our final round of bor-bor before it was time to dance. I told many people I would dance earlier in the day but after sitting and praying for so long I wasn't so sure about it. Nevertheless, I did not want to let anyone down so I danced...I was the first one to get get on the dance floor and circle the table, actually. And it was fun.

This ceremony definitely satisfied the little boy Laura. The grandma Laura's knees hurt from praying for so long but she definitely enjoyed the socializing.

and here are some little girls that weren't so sure about me.


Goodnight and Happy Khmer New Year, Cambodia!

Good Morning, America!

MOM

It's been a while since I've updated this little bloggie and I feel bad like I've neglected someone. I'm not sure who I'd be neglecting because I'm not sure how many back home or anywhere are really reading my blog. Either way, I've definitely wanted to write more but haven't felt truly inspired by any particular events. This is not to say nothing inspiring happened in the last month. A lot happened this past month. Most noteworthy was My mom, momma jo (I never call her that), came to visit me in Cambodia. That's a pretty big deal. PBD.

There are a number of reasons why my mom is awesome other than the fact that she took a big risk to visit me all the way over here.

My mom is a trooper. I can see where I got my skills in adaptability since my mom came all the way to the other side of the world just to see me. A world I'm sure she never really cared to see for herself in real life before I was assigned to Cambodia. Movies are fine for that. But she did it! And I'm amazed by how willing she was to try new and weird things without much fuss/really no fuss at all (she's not a fussy lady.)

For example: Mom went to a Khmer wedding on her second full day in country. I didn't get to go to my first wedding until my 6th month in country! And Khmer weddings are a thing to see. She missed out on the ceremonial aspects of the wedding - the hair cutting, the fruit counting, the...costume changes. But she did get to try wedding food (raved about by all PCVs) and observe Khmer dancing (slightly loathed by many PCVs.) Regardless of her sometimes very sensitive stomach, she tried almost all of the 8 courses during dinner. She even ate what might have been baby pigeons or quails or other innocent bird. NBD, she's a badass.

Khmer Wedding Dinner: to the left you'll see the bird carcasses with greens and in front of that some pickled vegetables of some sort. DELISSSSCIOUS. Also look at my cute PCV friends: JILL, EMMA, ETC.


Mom kept up with the beer drinking (it's competitive over here) along with the 20 Peace Corps volunteers that she just met. She did not dance but she enjoyed observing the dancing around the table (10,000,000 times. make it stop!!! for the love of god make it stop!!!) (She was mostly observing my awesome dance moves. WHO CAN BLAME HER?)

I know this photo looks incriminating but I assure you, Greg is not slapping my bottom. I'm dancing with the little chub boy named Linee.



Who let her on stage!?! nobody stopped meeeeeeee!!! hahahahaaaaa!!!!


Example #2. The next day, Mom tried my favorite Khmer food, Ban Chaio. I eat it for breakfast maybe two times a week. It's like a crepe but filled with sprouts and perhaps pork? And to top it off, the lady I get it from gives me cha quitio which is a long fried noodle. It's my jam. I'd eat it more often if I felt like spending the 36 cents everyday...HA! (Classic Cheap PCV.) Again, mom ate this and seemed to enjoy it regardless of the potential disaster it could cause later on. Just like me! I don't care if it gives me diarrhea, I WANNA EAT IT!!! Sorry...too much information.

THANK YOU INTERNET GODS FOR FINDING A NICE PHOTO OF BAN CHAIO FOR ME.


Example #3 (of why my my mom is a trooper. In case you forgot.) Following our delicious Khmer breakfast, we hopped in a taxi to Phnom Penh with my two PCV friends, Kateri and Margaret. Oh and this isn't like those fancy schmancy taxis you bourgeoisie people ride in the US of A where the taxi is yellow and says "Taxi" on the side of the vehicle. No, this Khmer taxi is just a crusted old Camry with nothing to distinguish it from all the other crusty Camrys. And we're in NO WAY comfortable. Kateri, Margaret, and mom are squished in the back and I'm kind of hovering over all of them/kneeling on one knee and resting the rest of my body on the others. The driver is sitting with a guy to his left and there are two people in the front passenger seat. I was questioning whether or not I would put my mom through this kind of torture but I did just so we could get our adventure to Siem Reap started as soon as possible. Sorry mom. None of us felt 100% on this taxi ride, to say the least. Yay Cambodia!!!!

Me and My momma in Phnom Penh: Sabaii jet k'nea.


In Siem Reap, we enjoyed amenities that can be likened to a more Western part of the world. We had an adorable room at the Golden Banana Bed & Breakfast (really nice place, check it out.) We ate Mexican food which makes me a little uneasy but my fajitas were surprisingly decent. Mom was disappointed in the Margarita. The temples delivered the Ancient goods and as usual, did not disappoint. When mom was asked whether or not she liked going to the temples she responded with "Oh yeah!" and that's about the most enthusiasm I've ever seen out of her. Her go-to response to questions about mood is "oh, swell" so to hear her say "Oh yeah!" pleased me greatly. Yay! Mom had fun!

CUTE WINDOW FROM CUTE GOLDEN BANANA B&B


After the more than uncomfortable taxi ride to PP and the 6 hour hot-small-seated-bus ride to Siem Reap, I thought we should spoil ourselves and take the Giant Ibis back down south. It's what all the "barangs" ride, one of those bourgeoisie rides in which a chocolate crescent, supposed free WI-FI, and extremely good AC are included in the ticket purchase.

Example #4: Mom was awesome with my host family and people in my village. I don't know if I told her this before she left but I was impressed by her ability to interact with people even though she could say only one word in Khmer. Akhoon = Thank you. While I was getting made-up for the wedding, she hung out with my crew of little girls (my BFFs in my village) and did exactly as I would do. She drew pictures with them and made silly jokes with them even though they didn't understand a thing she was saying. You are awesome, mom.

Mom: THE INTEGRATION MASTER.


Example #5, Mom likes beer. There's nothing more satisfying than getting an ice cold pitcher of beer after toasting under the HOT-ASS sun. And it made me so happy when my mom would make the beer-drinking suggestion before me. "Thank you! You're reading my mind." And you can't go wrong with a pitcher for $2.50.

Example #6, Mom is brave. It may not seem that brave to sign up for a package boat ride to some super exotic tropical islands but there were some things that required bravery. First of all, that boat was crazy rockin'. At one point, all of the bar stools fell over because of the extreme wavage (made that word up) we were experiencing. Along with the bar stools fell some decorative shells and my mom thought it was imperative to save the shell. So mom let go of the boat and reached down to grab the shell and in the process her chair tipped over and she slammed into a fallen bar stool. Oh, mom. You are hilarious. She had a wicked bump/bruise after she rescued the shell. And it's a good thing she saved that shell!

We also went snorkeling which is an activity that I enjoy but also fear with a subdued intensity. While I was talking myself through the snorkeling process ("Breathe slowly, Laura. You're NOT going to die as long as you keep breathing") my mom was floating along with her waterproof camera taking photos of coral and fishes. Why can't I be more like my mom? (IS THAT THE FIRST TIME ANY WOMAN HAS EVER ASKED THAT QUESTION?) Why am I a big ball of anxiety?! We can't have it all...

Mom also got her feet chewed up by pirañas:

new feet.


In conclusion, I had an awesome time with mom even when she drove me a little crazy sometimes. It was a good crazy. It's a crazy contributed to proximity to a person. And being a PCV, I'm rarely not alone. (I'm not sure how to phrase that not-awkwardly...or that...as a matter of fact.) So being around the same person 24/7 for two weeks set me off my regular track of loneliness but it was totally worth it. My mom is easy going and likes to try new things. That's the definition of a good person to travel with.

And to really conclude this blog, here's some Kh-spanglish for ya:

Khnom estoy contenta-jet.

"Hey girl, how you doin?"

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............................................................

SIEM REAP - a tale of horror, extreme happiness, and some pain

I had my first two official vacations in Cambodia this past week/weekend. First vacation took place in the provincial town of Kampot which is in southern Cambodia and only about 2 hours from my village. Vacation number two was way up North in Siem Reap which holds the 8th wonder of the world: Angkor Wat. And guess what? I didn't take a single photo while I was wandering the 8th wonder of the world.

I did, however, take photos while in Kampot town. The highlight of this trip was the relaxing sunset stroll (can you stroll in a boat?) up and down Kampong Bay River which runs through the middle of the town. I plan on taking many trips to Kampot town because of it's proximity to my home and because it's really awesome/beautiful/calm. There are many riverside bungalows overrun by expats drinking, eating, and swimming in sheer bliss that I myself would like to occupy.

the lovely river walk in Kampot town




fishing boats heading up the river




a mountainous gradation




I spy a birdie


Vacation number two did not get any photos for many reasons.

Reason #1: I wanted to spare all of my fellow PCV friends the embarrassment of me and my giant camera looking like an extreme tourist.
Reason #2: There are far too many people in Siem Reap. I was worried about theft.
Reason #3: I ran my first half marathon at Angkor Wat and my camera is far too large to lug around while running 21 kilometers. Can you blame me?
Reason #4: I plan on bringing my mama to Siem Reap in which case I don't give a damn if I look like a tourist.

Siem Reap is unlike any place I've seen in Cambodia so far. To be completely honest, it's a tourist trap. And actually, a lot of Khmer people don't even go to Siem Reap because of this. It's a city catered to tourists with more western restaurants, spas, and tacky souvenirs than I thought possible in such a small country. But it's also absolutely beautiful. It's clean, bustling, and filled with beautiful old French Colonial architecture.

My first day was spent indulging and gorging myself on the immediate access to delicious western food. Have you ever eaten mashed pumpkins? Akin to mashed potatoes only SO MUCH BETTER. Those were consumed at a vegetarian restaurant called Singing Tree Cafe. We made our server giggle because we ordered our meal in Khmer. This was probably one of my favorite things to do while in Siem Reap; order my food or drinks in Khmer. Most of the Khmer people that work there speak English because of the massive amounts of tourists that come through. They are definitely not used to barangs speaking Khmer with them. And it impresses a lot of people.

Day two in SR was spent indulging and gorging myself on the immediate access to delicious western food. Yes, similar to that of day one. It was also a day of recovery from the night before and preparation for my first half marathon the next day. Oh yeah, did I mention that I signed up to do my first half marathon ever at Angkor Wat in Siem Reap? I know...pretty cool, huh?

Since I am a responsible adult and kinda a little bit serious about running races, I decided to stay away from the party scene. Instead, I spent my night gallivanting around with my friend Arnoldo. He is truly an amazing spirit. He brings out the dancer in me. We were both running the half marathon at 6:30AM the next day so we decided to have our own kind of fun. This entailed creating what I like to call "visual spectacle" but could also be considered flash mobbing or just causing a scene. We walked down the middle of Pub Street, which is the main tourist crawl, and sporadically busted into dance. We danced to live bands playing in the open air restaurants as well as to the big-bass American pop music being blasted from other restaurants.

There was something in the air that night, the stars so bright - Arnoldo. This photo is from our Thanksgiving feast the previous weekend



Unbelievably (or maybe obviously...?), our dancing caused tourists to stop in their tracks. The tourists created large crowds around us and watched as we improvised our way around with the music. People took photos and videos of us with their iPhones. Old women from Germany danced with us. Other PCVs randomly joined in the spectacle as they walked past us. People cheered and clapped for us once we were too tired and sweaty to dance anymore.

This was the most fun I have had since I've been in Cambodia. I cannot wait to be reunited with Arnoldo to create more spectacles with him.

Our dancing may not have been the best thing to do the day before running a half marathon but it was very worth it. At 5AM the next day, we piled into a tuk-tuk in the darkness and rode to Angkor Wat for an amazing race. None of us felt prepared/well trained to do a half marathon but regardless of this fact, we were ecstatic.

The first half of the race for me was wonderful; I paced myself very well and felt powerful. About 7,000 people from 72 different countries were participating in the race so I was never alone which helped me keep going. At times, I imagined I was running through the woods in Minnesota only the trees were a little more exotic and a lot taller. We passed by villages where we were cheered on by long lines of children offering high-fives and wishing us good luck. Those kids were one of my biggest energy sources throughout the race.

It wasn't until after the 12k mark that I started to feel....crummy. I'm used to my knees being kind of an issue on long runs but never my feet. And my left foot was NOT HAPPY with me. The pain came on suddenly and was so excruciating that I went against my goal of running the entire time. I had to stop and walk. It took me a while to really let go and just walk. I was very determined to stick with my goal but the pain was just too much.

I walked on and off for probably about 5 minutes when all of a sudden an angel ran past me. This French angel woman ran along side me and told me to keep going. I just said "okay" and shuffled my feet into a slog and did my best to keep up with her. My angel's name is Jocelyn, she currently lives in Singapore, and works at a microchip manufacturing company. I told her my foot hurt really bad but she told me to take in the energy and beauty of Angkor Wat. And by simply having her to talk to for a short period of time, I was able to take my mind off of the pain. She eventually ran ahead of me but with her support and my determination to have mind over matter regarding the pain, I kept on trucking.

With about 2k to go (the longest 2k of my life) I ran past elephants and through an amazingly old and corroding temple. And with great relief, Angkor Wat proper reappeared and I finished my race.

When I actually think about it, I did really well for how much I trained. The most I ever ran while training was probably 12k-14k. And this fact only makes me want to get serious and train for real for the next half marathon happening in Sihanoukville in March 2013. We shall see. As I've said before, it's difficult to run in Cambodia...because it's kinda hot.

Oh and I actually did take one photo during vacation number two. I lied when I said I didn't take a single photo.

I took this photo:

7 HOUR BUS RIDE; AIN'T NO THANG.


This photo was taken on my bus ride home from vacation number two. It's not even a good photo (actually, I think it's pretty cool) but it exists so I'm sharing it with you.


Now I'm back home in Tramkok, back to the grind...

Life is pretty sweet.

Peaze Corpse Danze Mix

I made a playlist. Primarily to share with my fellow K6 almost PCVs. But maybe others will enjoy it also?






Now the world can dance.


and by the world I mean...



myself.