EXPECTING

SURPRISE!!

By this time, I would have already birthed my secret Cambodia baby. Fortunately (unfortunately?) nothing THAT life changing - Facebook life event creating - has happened since my return to the Land of the Free. It has not been easy. But not in the way many people assume it to be uneasy.
Culture shock?
Psshhhhhhaaaah.
Culture is easy now that internet rules the world. And let us not forget that I lived in America for almost 27 years before I left it for a mere 2 years to live in a hut*.

*I did not live in a hut.

But one thing that I thought I would regain somewhat quickly upon my return to America; Freedom, was not as clear cut and far from easy to obtain. (Note: I have yet to gain entrance into the Freedom Level) When I think of Freedom, I picture a caps lock “INDEPENDENCE” and when I picture “INDEPENDENCE” I also picture a “job” and a “not living with parents” tagging along with it.


My role model: George Costanza


Guess what? I am not FREE. As far as #firstworldproblems and #whitepeopleproblems go, I gots them and they are convoluted and obtuse. But all I wanted while I sat and daydreamed in my dimly lit room in Cambodia was to have my OWN life. I have spent most of my life trying to please others and trying to not “let people down” rather than focusing on WHAT I WANTED or NEEDED. So, once I realized I wasn't going to achieve the kind of greatness I anticipated (or the greatness that others anticipated) while in Cambodia, I turned into myself and became a hermit.
It was a hard shot to swallow.

I always imagined myself being THE IDEAL PEACE CORPS VOLUNTEER. But I wasn't and it's over and thank goodness and I'm home; let's get on with the show, okay? Ehhhh, or let's just fail and fail and keeping failing and feeling like a failure and failing at the failing and fail again. Okay?

Most of the time, when I think about my life in Cambodia, it feels unreal. Was I really there? Where did it all go? How come I can't FEEL it anymore? Am I a terrible person because I feel so detached from an experience that should be so-called “Life Changing” or “the hardest job you'll ever love”?

COME HELL OR HIGH WATER. I FINISHED PEACE CORPS.


There is so much pressure put on a Peace Corps Volunteer, and maybe even more pressure for a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer. We should all be going back to America and CONTINUE MAKING THE WORLD A BETTER PLACE. Right?
Or...OR STAY IN THAT THIRD WORLD COUNTRY AND CONTINUE TO DO AMAZING SELFLESS THINGS THAT PEOPLE WILL ADORE YOU FOR AND CONTINUALLY SING YOUR PRAISES TO RELATIVES IN THE STATES. YAH. Sorry I didn't do that, folks.

PUG LIFE.


Am I the only RPCV that isn't doing this?
NO.

And am I the only RPCV that didn't make glacier-sized changes in their villages?
HELL – TO - THE - NO.

Clearly, I am still trying to make sense of all that happened to me in the past 2+ years, but also I haven't done enough of that kind of “figuring out.” The world around me has not allowed for me to really analyze (if I was an analytical person, I mean) what happened to me physically and emotionally while I excreted my soul out of every possible orifice found on my body.

Throw back drawing from a year ago #lauraxdoodles


Side note:
According to StrengthsFinder 2.0, I am not necessarily an ACHIEVER. But I really wish I was. How can I achieve “ACHIEVER” status? How many episodes of X Files do I have to watch on Netflix to achieve the “ACHIEVER” status?

Oh, what's that you say? That's not “necessarily” a “characteristic” of a “person” “usually” “considered” “an” “ACHIEVER”? Well, that's dumb. I'm going to write my own book called StrongestWeaknessFinder 4000 and I will become an overnight sensation amongst gamers and gift shop workers*.

*I love gamers (COUGH, my brother) and I pretty much work at an extraordinary gift shop.


MOTIVATION.


and just because:

It's true.



But let me turn this lazy Susan around and tell you that this hasn't ALL been just a big super let down for me.

Facebook, as much as it is an evil insentient being, has helped me. Even though I wasn't really searching for sympathy, I posted status updates about my life as an unemployed loser and friends and family reached out to me in ways I never anticipated. I had many friends sympathizing with me over the ginormous woes of job-searching and the inevitable and endless rejections that follow. However, even more inspiring and energizing was the amount of people encouraging me to finally follow my PASSION. A conversation I had with my friend Adin really did it for me. He said “...now that I'm doing something that i'm really into, it just seems like all that failure and frustration was EXACTLY what i needed to get where I am.” (And I did not get his permission to quote him but this quote was pulled via facebook so I say I own the rights to his words.) We talked about self-sabotage, played the Beastie Boys song, got pumped up, and finally he said:

“just fucking play this track on repeat, make a fucking coffee table book....max out your credit cards to publish it.”


“How can I not do what I love to do?”

- Adin Horovitz

I was putting so much pressure on myself to get a “JOB-JOB” that could keep me comfortable financially while also maintaining my status as a good person by working in the non-profit sector, but clearly that wasn't working out for me because no one wanted to hire me. I was spending a lot of time writing meaningful, well-written cover letters for many different non-profit organizations. But the odds were never ever in my favor. Cover letters are nearly obsolete nowadays if your resume isn't perfectly catered for every job you're applying for.

The work wasn't worth the pain of being ignored or rejected by employers on a daily basis.

So I finally took Adin's and many other supportive friend's words seriously. I grew up wanting to be an artist but was told numerous times, even by teachers I respected, that I would be a starving artist. Well, you know what? I won't be starving if I keep living with my parents!!! HAHAHAH SUCKAS!!!! So I decided to make my dream a reality or at least begin the process. I will become a real artist no matter what it takes.

How terrifying.

JUNKET (One of my amazing places of employment) business card that finally got me thinking.


And slowly things started to happen.

I bought a domain name.

www.lauraxolson.com

My friend Vunley amazingly and effortless helped me create my website. That guy is like Neo from the Matrix but Cambodian Neo.

VUNLEY IN THE MATRIX.



I made sweet business cards.

hand made business cards vs. FANCY REAL!


And I pushed my website out to the facebook world. Thank you, Facebook. It is a network with many flaws but regardless, it has helped me promote my art and I am very much so pleased with this feature.

I have been payed for my art. And that is an incredible feeling. I sold a drawing that I enjoyed making and thought to myself “Wow, that was worth 22 hours of babysitting.” I NEED TO DO MORE OF THIS SELLING MY ART THING. I should be getting paid for my skills.

I am not exactly where I want to be in life yet but I am happy with what I am doing so far and the direction my life is going. It's not easy but I never expected it to be easy and that's why I avoided it for so long. But let's all stop and think about this statement for a second:

YOLO.


Life is too short, my friends.
Do what you love.

what time is it?

It wasn't a normal fitful night of sleep. Surprisingly, my body wasn't hot enough to induce an infernal rage, a sleepy-heavy-eyed infernal lazy rage. (I like this term “Lazy Rage.” I will now use it on the regular.) It wasn't the heat that kept me awake. And thankfully, it wasn't seasonal allergies encasing my entire throat with the most irritating itch, so itchy it wakes me up from deep sleep, and a lazy rage comes over me and I take a pink pill with a few gulps of water and pass out again. It wasn't the awful seasonal allergies that kept me awake. It was seasonal diarrhea.

I was up, like clockwork, once every hour through the night hustling back and forth from my room to the toilet. I am currently cursed with a long-lasting bout of diarrhea. (Oh, did I mention this blog post is packed full of too much information? Oh, yeah, it is. Sorry I didn't warn you earlier.) On the bright side, this is a fairly tolerable case of diarrhea to stomach (see what I did there?) because in-between the hourly water closet trips, I don't feel like I'm dying inside. I don't feel like my internal organs are slowly melting away....or better yet being eaten alive by a colony of foreign bacteria like termites demolishing your cherished cabin by the lake. It's not like that.

This is what my insides look like


This morning, the alarm clock on my PC issued Samsung cellphone rudely interrupted the last bit of solid sleep I had the fortune of retrieving during my schizo night poop/sleep schedule. I thought my cellphone and I were close enough that he would consider the state I was in and give me that last hour to sleep. You think you know someone....
I played my cards as I'm accustomed to and ignored that alarm until, of course, it was time to poop again. Curiously, it was still pretty dark out at 6AM but my thoughts slowly faded into more sleep; my body behaved until I really had to get out of bed. I startled myself out of that final slumber, read my phone clock with a grumble of disappointment – 7:18AM already? Really? Gosh dangit.

I don't like being behind schedule regardless of how my insides are feeling. I like relaxing mornings where I can take my time. Rushing is the worst. But I accepted my reality and finally left my house at 7:35AM. But hey, it appears that everyone else is running a little behind schedule and I take comfort in this. “You're okay, Laura” I told myself, “your coffee lady isn't even set up yet...now that is weird.” Eh, maybe everyone was up late (late as in 9PM) drinking last night just like me? Is it another holiday? I can never keep track/don't bother keeping track. My favorite breakfast lady was setting up very slowly so I settled for the lesser noodles. I smiled at all the old people eating noodles along with me. “I love old Khmer people” I thought to myself.

Noodles were successfully slurped into my precarious belly and I momentarily feared that the diarrhea I battled all night long would hit me again and I'd risk pooping my pants while walking to the health center. ON-WARD-LAURA!!! I stopped at my coffee spot and looked at my clock again – 7:55AM, no time to sit and enjoy the mediocre ice coffee. I told my coffee lady I'd take my coffee in a bag because it was almost 8AM. And this surprised her “Whoa! Leuun! (fast)”

My ever loyal and lovely coffee lady


But some guy quietly sipping his coffee at the coffee spot claimed that it was only 7:09AM. His fancy smartphone said so. Outright, I told him his phone was wrong. My coffee lady loyally took my side. Smartphone man asked a gentleman eating Khmer noodles in the stall next door what time his watch said and HIS clock was wrong too!

. . .

“What the eff is going on here? Is it Cambodian daylight savings day or some shit? A weird Khmer holiday where time makes no sense? It's possible with so many holidays in such a small country... Either way, I took my bag of coffee and went along my merry way. I ran into one of my friends that I drank Ganzberg German premium beer(please click on that link to experience the greatness of Ganzberg Beer) with last night. He said “sabaii! (happy!)” we shared a laugh and carried on in opposite directions. Hey! No hints of pants-pooping yet! Everything's coming up Laurax!

The kids at the primary school were collecting water from the pond with small bottles. A gaggle of girls followed the leader out onto a log to fetch their water. I never have my camera when I really need it.

I turned into the driveway of the health center and found it all locked up still. What the....? Oh well. I'ma do my thang anyway and I go about my morning routine of preparing the cooler with vaccinations and settle into my book. ...Curiosity peaked again and I decided to text my friend Margaret:

I flirted with Margaret AFTER this first text message, duh.



[What time is it?
It seems as though
everyone was up late
drinking last night.
This one guys phone
said it was only 710...]


Margaret responds:

[My phone says 718]


I looked at my phone and it read 8:09AM...uuhhhhhh wut?


FLASH!


And then it all came back to me. I was drinking with my friends last night (employees of my host family...friends by association) and during my second trip to the bathroom, pre-diarrhea escapades, I accidentally dropped my phone in the “bawee” (k'bawee? I've never really bothered to figure out how to say the word correctly) which is the bucket we use to awkwardly wash our bums while using the squattie potty. Immediately I snatched my fully-immersed phone, miraculously still working, from the water. I opened it up to check its insides and told my friends what I did. One of the guys took it and quickly dried if off with the air pump thingy. When we put the phone back together, I remember thinking to my self “Self, remember to set the clock correctly later.” And in the meantime I made an extremely rough estimate on the time and punched it in.

However, in my hazy Ganzberg state of mind, I did not remember to remember. And in turn, I basically called other people liars for having the wrong time. It couldn't possibly be MY phone that was the issue. But you know what? The night of diarrhea and my bizaaro morning of confusion was all worth it for the fun night I had that caused the problem (and my denseness) in the first place.

Yesterday my host mom was worried about me and my ongoing bathroom problem. She heard rumors that some random person went to a wedding, ate wedding food, then later had a stomach ache, followed by a head ache which was then followed by death. Since my host mom didn't want me to die, God bless her, she had me stay home to eat partially developed duck fetuses, various fried meats, and drink beer with 4 of her employees rather than go with the family to grandma's house to eat. I thought this was an interesting decision on her part but I allowed it.

Ganzberg, the more I drink the better I feel. Another amazing Ganzberg beer commercial to watch!


Her employees (friends by association) followed her strict orders that I eat all 4 duck fetuses and the various fried meats. I refused to eat all of it and asked them to help me. I ate only 2 duck fetuses. And we drank an unquantifiable (unquantifiable by me) number of Ganzberg German Premium beers. We told jokes, sang to each other (I dazzled them with Shakira and Beyonce hits), and I taught them American drinking phrases like “break the seal.” I also translated Khmer drinking phrases into English for them. “DRINK ALL!” It was this night of debauchery that I learned that I am older than every one of my drinking buddies, one of which I have historically called “boo” meaning uncle.

We ended the night with arm wrestling. I did not win.

According to German beer expert Bernd Kirsch, Ganzberg exacerbates diarrhea.

Laurax's 10 commandments of Life & Lurve*

*Love

Today I'm taking this blog to a whole 'nother level and it may seem weird and maybe not something other people want to read but I felt impelled to write it. I've divulged enough dirt about myself on this bloggy-thing so why not talk about relationships? But please, don't anyone go and have an anxiety attack now. I'm just going to talk about what I've learned about myself and relationships so far.

I have made major mistakes when it comes to relationships in my life (ummm, who hasn't?) Your 20s are meant to be a relationship trial phase, right? (...for some, at least.) You have to make mistakes and hopefully learn from them in order to know what's right for yourself and what you want with a partner. I've found that the plus side of being isolated in a village is I have hours upon hours of time to think about all those mistakes and analyze them down to the last embarrassingly idiotic detail. Things be gettin' beat like a dead horse over here. That poor dead horse.

Anyway, it hit me! Like a dead cat slapped across my face. (That poor dead cat.) While taking my post Insanity-workout-shower (Everyone! Be proud of me for actually showering after working out! Yay Laura!) I thought about yet another embarrassing and upsetting relationship mistake amidst scrubbing down with Old Spice body wash (best stuff ever, btw. I'd like to thank my Aunt Barb for sending it to me.) And I thought to myself “Laura, you can't compromise your own values and ideas (or sanity) in a relationship. And you can't ignore those red flags anymore.” Then I thought I'd write my own 10 commandments to keep in mind before I decide to step into uncharted relationship territory ever again. And for the record, I will be sailing no relationships through the sea of love anytime soon. So back off, suitors!

In reality I'm really just holding out on Rob Lowe. I know he's happily married and all but he really doesn't know what he's missing. Seriously. To me, Rob Lowe, you are perfect.



So! With no further ado...here they are!
Laurax's 10 Commandments of Life & Lurve:

1. Thou shall, first and foremost, recognize your own value, intelligence, and beauty. #flawless

2. Thou shall not enter a relationship just because you desire companionship. It especially does not work if the relationship is long-distance to begin with. #thinkwithyourbrain

3. Thou shall embrace being alone and loneliness as a time to find your true self and perhaps a new hobby. #happyalone

4.Thou shall not compromise your beliefs, values, ideas, dreams, or desires in or for a relationship. #dontbeadummy

5. Thou shall listen to your intuition; you are more perceptive than you think. If you think something is not right, take time to find what it is, where it comes from, and how it can be alleviated. #womenbepyschic

6. Thou shall acknowledge and address red flags in a relationship; thou shall not ignore red flags under any circumstance no matter how small they may seem.* #redflagsnonononononono

7. Thou shall consider the feelings and emotions of your other (if you have an “other” that is) before making rash decisions in a relationship. (This can be applied to all relationships in your life - family, friends, co-workers, etc.) #empathyiscool

8. Thou shall accept that happiness in life also comes with sadness; without pain and suffering you cannot experience great joy. #hurtssogood

9. Thou shall accept that every relationship comes with ups and downs and can never be perfect. #whatgoesupmustcomedown

10. Thou shall find what truly makes you happy and pursue that happiness with intention. #eatcookies


No.



*Okay. A word on red flags. As a former Sexual Assault Resource Network educator, a red flag is usually considered a warning sign that you are potentially in an unhealthy or abusive relationship. (Click on this link for more info on red flags.) In terms of my 10 commandments, I am referring to red flags as something that may compromise or squelch who I am; my beliefs, values, ideas, desires, etc. But according to my 10 commandments a red flag can, without question, also be a warning sign that my relationship is indeed unhealthy or abusive. But I guess if there are red flags that my personal beliefs or whatever are being compromised then that is a sign of an unhealthy relationship too. So yeah....I feel like I am rambling nonsensically. Aaaaaanyway.

Also, I am trying to make sure I am not being contradictory or confusing with #6 and #9. I think this is the hardest thing to pin down in a relationship: whether or not hard times and/or disagreements and fights are a part of the natural ups and downs versus red flags in a relationship. That, in essence, is why it's important to have that relationship trial phase, right? Learn the ropes, your ropes, a partners ropes. We've all got ropes we're just not always sure which ones are secure enough to hold our weight. And according to Jay-Z in his book “Decoded” contradiction is a part of being human. So whatevs. I'm gonna contradict myself all over this blog.

Do you completely disagree with or have anything to add to my 10 commandments? Enlighten me, please. Let's talk about this. I've got loads of free time. In the meantime, I will be eating oreos.
Oh, and obviously, these are my 10 commandments on life & lurve. Maybe you should write your own that fit to your life. I think it's important.

Oh my gawd, you're killing me. Rob Lowe.

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!!!

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!

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!

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.

CP. My introduction to Khmer culture

You can get any entry-level job with a Bachelor's degree; even if your BA is a BA in Women's Studies and Studio Art. Or so they say. And my very own BA lead to me an unusual and unexpected post-college job adventure: A Pirate Hospital. Just kidding, that's an inside joke only a few special people will understand. Sorry.

No no no, my BA led me to a job at a Non-profit organization called Opportunity Parters and a peculiar place within the organization called TBI Metro Services. TBI stands for Traumatic Brain Injury and before I had my interview, I honestly thought I would be working in a hospital doing some sort of rehabilitation with people recovering from accidents. Once I pulled up to the HUB strip mall in Richfield I felt even more peculiar because previously I only visited the HUB to shop at Marshall's (cool deals and HOT fashion!) Now I was walking into an office I never knew existed, squished nicely between the Walgreens (get all your post-Holiday candy deals here!) and China Garden (Chinese restaurant. don't go there.)

Co-worker Elliott & I shopping at Marshall's (it's our lunch break, okay?!)


Long story, short: I got the job and was only slightly disappointed that it wasn't a Pirate hospital (or was it...?) I spent three challenging, inspiring, frustrating, and hilarious years there. I made friends with co-workers that I plan on being friends with for FOREVER. I became, to some extent, obsessed with brain injuries. I became obsessed with the possibility of getting one myself, my family and friends getting one, and obsessed with the reality of brain injury.

Demonstrating PROFESSIONALISM with co-workers Elliott & Veronica


But a brain injury isn't necessarily something you "get" like an STD or an A+ on an exam. A brain injury can happen to anyone and it doesn't take much. And that's one of the main reasons I was/am so obsessed with brain injuries. Also I'm a little bit of a worry wart. (What? Me worry?)

Me demonstrating that smoking previously-smoked cigarets from the bottom of the ashtray is a disgusting habit!


What mattered the most to me at TBI Metro Services was not the lesson and eternal fear I gained but the people I worked with. The people that endured extreme emotional and physical pain; a life altering event that brought them back to zero. They had to rebuild their life, limb by limb, and for some, their previous live's were never completely gained back.

Back in 2009, on one of my first days on the job, I met a woman I will call CP. She has a brain injury. She is also from Cambodia. She immediately made an impression on me. She wasn't afraid to talk to me and introduce herself. She made me feel welcome right away. However, the more I got to know her, the more complicated and challenging my job became.

Little did I know how fortuitous our connection would later become.

CP is a lovable woman that loves music, especially loud, heavy-beat music. She loves food. But mostly she LOVES gum. Chewing gum, being one of my most HATED inventions in the entire world, was on the other hand, what kept CP motivated throughout the working day. She had a gum-rationing schedule for her three hour shift. And who else was in charge of portioning out her gum other than ME? Yes. This was truly a test. CP's brain performed like clockwork. If I was a minute late in giving her a stick of gum, I would get a long cold stare and a "HUMPH! Lo-RAH. MY GUM?!" from CP. Upon receiving her gum, CP would let out a cackle of delight, "AH-HA!" and continue with her work. And she was an incredible worker; she worked quickly but created quality work. She wanted to make a lot of money and usually kept great focus on her work in order to make as much money as possible. The work she did was piece-work, meaning she was paid for how much she completed within her three hour shift. It was not much pay but it gave her pride. She knew she was a good worker.

CP kept things interesting for me, in both positive and sometimes negative ways. One day I went to the restroom, and used the accessible stall since the other was occupied. It didn't take me long to realize CP was in the stall next to me when suddenly bouncing off the small restroom walls was "BOOM!!!!!!!!!...shakalaka shakalaka." And then laughter from both stalls. (or was she singing this one??) Other days were more frustrating, like the day CP was sitting across from me while I was probably secretly eating M&Ms from a giant bag hidden in my desk drawer. CP says casually to me "Laura....you got fat." Hmm...not something I ever like to hear, but she was right. I was getting lazy sitting at a desk all day and had way too easy access to candy from Walgreens next door. I needed to get back in shape. And that was enough to get my ass back into gear.

So CP didn't have much of a censor when it came to expressing her personal opinion. She also had trouble controlling the volume of her voice (I too have trouble with this one...) Personal space was a difficult concept for her to wrap her head around. She loved pregnant women and touching their bellies! It was almost as irresistible as stealing other people's food. She wanted to touch everyone, to hug people, to pat them on their backs when she was happy to see them. But her "pats" were more like slaps and often upset other people.

CP's love for music was intriguing. She often listened to gangster rap, but other times she'd listen to classic Khmer music. But no matter what, she was equipped with headphones that nearly swallowed her head whole; they were heavy-duty. On another particularly memorable day with CP, she forgot her MP3 player but had her headphones and requested that I play music for her using my laptop. And by "music" what she really meant was listen to Willow Smith's "Whip My Hair" consecutively for her three hour shift. If I accidentally let the playlist skip to the next non-"Whip-my-hair" song, I received a long cold stare from CP and an obstinate "LAURA! whip. my. hair!!!"

Then April 30th, 2012 came and with it came the long awaited invitation from Peace Corps. Cambodia? Yeah, sure! I gave my employer a month's notice and then I started talking with CP's guardian to see if I could act as a buddy/mentor/volunteer person for her once I stopped working at TBI Metro Services. This was actually something I had in mind to do before I ever knew I'd finally become a Peace Corps volunteer. I knew that I wanted to be a buddy/mentor/person for CP because she was special to me from the start.

It was all set up, I finished jobbing all my jobs and had a month until I left the USA for 2+ years. With all my free time, I worked on PC shenanigans (paperwork...and the awful pre-departure materials), ate brunch with friends (finally!) and I hung out with CP. We took my dog on walks all the way around Lake Phalen, went to the Rosedale mall and looked at wigs, and we ate dinner at her mom's house. During this short time with CP I learned a lot about her history. She left Cambodia when she was 5 years old; she and her immediate family were able to escape the horrors of the Khmer Rouge. She has three wonderful children that care for her dearly but also struggle with her, her brain injury, and CP's other health problems. The day I met CP's mother, she just happened to be returning from her yearly trip to Cambodia. Her mom wore comfy pajamas and Khmer-squatted in front of a box full of Khmer goodies that I now know all too well: kilos of smelly dried fish (EEW.), mango fruit leather (OH MY GAWD SO GOOOOD.), and fermented mango...to name a few. And then we ate rice.

This one-on-one time with CP was a small yet meaningful segue into Khmer culture for me. CP helped me and hopefully she got something out of our time together too. I asked CP Khmer words which slipped out of my brain almost instantaneously. She talked about traveling back to Cambodia again someday since the last time she visited was in the 1990s. I hope she gets that chance soon.

While working with CP, I always thought her tendencies were more brain injury specific. But now, I realize that the most distinct characteristics were actually more Khmer than anything. She is Khmer, through and through, regardless of her upbringing being mostly in America. Her very Khmer characteristics are intensified with the presence of the brain injury. And the characteristics of her brain injury are fairly common. Her biggest obstacle is with impulse control which unfortunately makes a big impact on her life every single day. Fortunately CP has amazing support systems in her life - family, friends, behavior services, work, and wonderful group home staff.

A preemptive Khmer lesson: Pre-Cambodia


It didn't take a long time of living in Cambodia for me to learn how Khmer CP actually is. For example, the birth of Gangnam style is now the bane of every PCV living in Cambodia. The song has only lately calmed down in this country. Everyone LOVES the damn song and NO ONE is ashamed to play it consecutively at weddings, birthday parties, or blasting it loudly at 6AM to open up their shop. CP's insistence to listen to "Whip My Hair" nonstop makes a little more sense to me now. (Gangnam style is the worst thing ever but watch this video to the end, it's for a good cause. seriously.)

Marriage proposals and questioning about one's marital status is something I encounter EVERY SINGLE DAY in Cambodia (actually more questioning than proposals.) My friend and co-worker Elliott used to get proposals from CP to marry her cousin in Cambodia. Her cousin was only 16 years old but when she came to America, she could change her age so it wouldn't be illegal (according to CP.) I received a very similar proposal from my neighbor at a party recently. For both Elliott and myself, it was easiest to just nod our heads and go along with such propositions.

I love my family. More preemptive Khmer learning


But hands down, the most honorable Khmer characteristic that CP exhibits is that of great loyalty to family. CP does not make a lot of money, but regardless, she is adamant about sending money to her family members in Cambodia. At times CP struggles to focus on anything more than money and how small her paycheck is at times, but it is all because she wants to have enough to send back home. Many families I talk to in my village have brothers or sisters in America and everyone of them sends money through Money Gram or Western Union on a monthly basis back to their family in Cambodia. What those brothers and sisters earn in America is very small compared to the average salary but in Cambodia it is so much more. It keeps the family connected and supports them beyond what is possible in Cambodia.

The most distinct and lovely characteristics about Khmer culture is the value of family, the generosity of the people and their smiles. And I was so lucky to receive an introductory course on Cambodia from CP. Speaking of which, I need to call her.

Doodle of CP
Looking back, my time at TBI Metro Services was an invaluable learning experience for me. My co-workers, the people, and the daily challenges made me more assertive, mindful, and patient. These have been useful characteristics in my Peace Corps service so far.

Job well done fellow worker person. Teaching proper handshakes.