Clouds.

Advice or something like it for the Future Ks of Peace Corps Cambodia or whoever feels like taking some free advice...or something like advice.


CLOUDS!!!!!


You guys,

There were times during my service when I allowed dark clouds to cover moments and interactions that could have been very very meaningful to myself and to others around me. Dark clouds, I know, cheesy and ominous, right? Whatever. Clouds are cool. I have allowed my anxiety (big dark cloud) and fear (another big dark cloud) to get in the way of having many rewarding moments during my service. That's not to say that I haven't had rewarding moments or a rewarding service. Because I have! I am, however, learning this late in the game and finally seeing things more clearly (I can see clearly now, the rain is gone....ehh? Ehh?...yeah. Okay.) I am finally letting go of a lot of my insecurities and frustrations (but don't get me wrong, quite a few insecurities and frustrations still exist. There are still days that I would like to peacefully punch people in the face...) I accumulated a lot of those (insecurities and frustrations) during my two years of service and I feel good finally letting go of some of them. Maybe this is because I know I'm going home really soon and feel happy about that but the fact that I am in Cambodia AND happy is a big deal. Being HAPPY in Cambodia is so much better than a lot of shit I've put myself through in this country. And that's not to say it will be smooth sailing until August 7th, but I think this will be my best months of my service because of my attitude. “Better late than never...” you say? Yes, I guess so. But maybe I can spare a small piece of advice to the future PCVs yet to come to Cambodia, the Kingdom of Wonder.

Some of this, these dark storm-boding clouds (hey it's raining right now!) is inevitable as a Peace Corps Volunteer. It's hard not to act strange and awkward in such a strange and awkward new environment. It's natural. So don't let it get to you; don't beat yourself up about it....to an extent. At some point, you have to just accept the strange and awkward environment. Endure the EXTREME discomfort. Feel misunderstood CONSTANTLY. Feel depressed OFTEN. Feel isolated, alone ALL THE TIME. Just let it happen. It's part of the experience. And if you let that happen, maybe from there, you will eventually let go and let yourself be accepted and loved within your community. It is MORE than possible in Cambodia. It is....INEVITABLE. (I love that word. For better or worse. It's gonna happen so you better be ready. The Khmer people will love you.)


I mean, how could you deny a face like this?


Like any relationship, it can't be completely perfect. And my relationship with Cambodia has been far from perfect. How do you expect to grow as a person if you want or expect things to stay stagnant? And isn't stagnant kinda a nasty word? Do you really want that word describing your relationship with anyone or anything? I don't. Eew. I think of dirty-nearly-dried-up pools of water, filled with pee and garbage juices (sick right?) Stagnant is not pretty in any way, shape, or form so why would you want a relationship of yours to become stagnant? Well I, for one, think that is what I was battling a lot during my service. I couldn't seem to have a solid good day. Or so I thought and dramatized in my mind. It would start out bad and just keep getting worse. Or it would start out great and then just plummet to the ground at 100kph. There were many times when I would ask myself or other volunteers “Why can't there ever be a HAPPY MEDIUM in Cambodia?” It felt impossible to me. You were either not pooping or you were pooping way too much (like seriously WAY too much. Like how is this humanly possible too much.) It was either raining too much or not enough (usually it's not enough.) For some reason, I wanted to live a more stagnant life in Cambodia because that would have been easier to handle, easier to understand, and easier to accept. But something important that I realized was how one good day, out of 30 bad days in Cambodia was SO WORTH IT. The good days in Cambodia are hilarious, awesome, and rewarding. So suck up that stagnant water and just let it happen! Ick! Ish! No spit it out. That's disgusting. Just enjoy the good days and possibly more will follow. Like, for example, you're sitting in your room with your fan blowing in your face and you see a mosquito floating around; the little bastard. And you go for him and BAM!!! You kill that em-effer in the first shot!!! Best day ever had.

And to be completely honest, I became APATHETIC, also a nasty word, during my Peace Corps Service. And I am embarrassed because of it. I let my fear and anxiety get the best of me during a great big chunk of my service and I'm seeing now, with less than 3 months left, how regrettable that decision was. It was not an immediately conscious decision on my part to isolate myself, but either way, it happened and I feel a great amount of regret because of it. But I continue to ask myself, what is the point of the emotion REGRET? Really? I'd like to know. I would like a knowledgeable and respected human being to explain to me a good reason for the emotion “regret” to exist because I can't necessarily think of a good reason off the top of my head. Any biological benefit to it?...But I digress, as usual.


91 year old Yay that doesn't wanna hear you piss and moan.


Along with my new found happiness (on more days than not) in Cambodia, I have also realized that I need to NOT BEAT MYSELF UP about how some of my service went. It happened already so I am learning to let go and focus on the now. Focusing on the NOW is something I've always had a hard time doing. I like to rehash things that have happened in the past but it's not healthy or productive. I need to just see what I did and know that I should act differently in the future. Rehashing shit ain't worth it. Unless it's leftover hashbrowns that you are refrying for lunch or something. I will allow that.

I am finally allowing myself to see the little things that I have contributed to my community. I have always cared much more about relationships in my life than my successes in work or school. When I didn't do well on a test, I would shrug and say “well, I didn't really study for this so I guess that's what I get.” But if I said something to a friend that upset them, I wouldn't be able to let it go. It would sit in my brain and circle around and around and around with worry. Now, I am seeing the relationships I've developed in my community and that is what I think truly matters. And I don't give a rats back-end how anyone else feels about that. My pig ladies, my noodle lady, my coffee lady, my nail and hair lady and her kids, the moto-taxi guys, the staff at the health center, my host family and their employees, the people that wave to me on my runs, the lady across from the high school, the guy that fixed my flat that one time, the bus lady...and I could go on. It is pretty cool to think that a little village in the middle of Cambodia is my second home and that people will remember me and talk about me once I'm good and gone. I hope most of it is good stuff.


And after a hard day, you might see something like this.



There was one day I was on a run and the Beyonce song “I Was Here” came on. It's NOT a good running song AT ALL but she was talking about making her mark on the world and making a difference in at least one person's life and that's all that mattered to her. That would be proof enough that she was here on this Earth. Or at least that's the way I understand the song. Anyway, regardless of the song's lack of runnability, it got me excited and inspired because I think I have accomplished what Beyonce was singing about. Even if I made a difference with only a handful of people or even just one person here, it was totally worth all the ups and downs that I endured during my service as a Peace Corps Volunteer. I guess I'm a little proud of myself.

In conclusion, let those clouds come and go during your service. Being there is the most important part. And clouds oftentimes bring monsoons in Cambodia and that means it's not going to be hot as balls outside...at least temporarily. Those clouds are gonna come whether you like it or not so you might as well just enjoy some sugary ice coffee at the market and get teased by the moto-taxi guys.


My moto-taxi guy friends drinking coffee.

DA FUNK.

Something's missing.



I don't know if it's the post-vacation-blues, that time of the month, the change in weather (Cambodia's winter is over already? What about this polar vortex everyone is talking about on the internets???), the reality of a PCVs life and being away from home for so long (or all of the above) but I've been in a funk. And it's funky but not in the groovy kind of way.

Selfie on the island?



And let's be totally honest here, the funk began before my exotic vacation to an island and the Cancun-Style-Spring-Break-New Year's Eve celebration that followed. But a strange and mysterious back injury which occurred possibly during an impromptu acrobatic act during said vacation has only aggravated my funk and led me to vices that are both delicious and shameful. I was in grand shape before Christmas but (I'm sure many volunteers can attest to this) being away from home during the holidays makes me feel inadequate and when I feel inadequate, all I want to do is stuff my face. And drink beer. (And hermit myself, but we'll get to that later.) Bad/good? news: when certain people in your village know that you can drink an occasional beer, they will make you drink many occasional beers at one time and then stuff you full of duck meat (AND DON'T FORGET THE RICE!!!!)

After vacations or any trips away from my village, whether short or long, I allot myself one (or two...) days of sleeping all day or watching movies all day or interneting all day, just to reenergize and get back into the zone. The super-awesome-ambitious-volunteer-zone which I still haven't quite yet fully harnessed or mastered. This I did and following my recuperation day I felt jovial and happy to be back in the village. But the next day that feeling disappeared and was replaced with an increased pain in my back and intense desire to not leave my room. (Which reminds me of a shirt I saw a girl at the market wearing “I have the strong desire to crawl back into the womb” WHO IS MAKING THESE SHIRTS!?!? I must know!)

AND WHAT DOES IT TAKE TO GET INTO THE SUPER-AWESOME-AMBITIONS-VOLUNTEER-ZONE?



A LITTLE BIT OF THIS, A LITTLE BIT OF THAT.



AND I'M IN THE ZONE.



This back pain was only provoked more by my Jillian Michaels 6-week six-pack Abs Workout and hurts all the time now. It hurts to lay down, it hurts when I run, it even hurts when I clear my throat (what? But why?!) So I've had to lay off on my workout routine which is a really big bummer considering how awesome I was doing just a month ago. I've replaced my previous workout routine with watching episodes of Modern Family (I have to admit, I kinda like it. Can I marry Phil please?) and eating Peanut M&Ms in bed. And as much as I appreciate the kindness of my veteran RPCV friends sending M&Ms in packages (Thank you Stewart, Bret, & Ashley! Me heart you), I must say it's really taking a toll on my hot bod. And there's really no way to stop eating M&Ms. You know you're a goner when you open that giant bag. You know you shouldn't do it. You know there's no way in hell you're just eating one handful and then leaving the bag alone until tomorrow. You're going to keep returning to that giant bag a couple times within one 20 minute episode where Gloria and her big boobs and perfect smile are doing something really sweet and surprisingly perceptive.

(Note to friends and family: When I die, bury me in a bed of M&Ms.)

M&M CRISIS.



M&M MELTDOWN.



I watched several episodes of Modern Family at 6AM (when I normally do Jillian), went to the health center as usual, and then went back home as soon as possible to watch more Modern Family and play on the internet before lunch. An email from a friend made me all weepy and for no explicable reason! So to make myself feel better, I tried to make myself look super busy to other people around me. And that meant washing my clothes. (Some people in my village think that I only run and that's my job. Which I'd like to think it is...)
*CONFESSION: I am a spoiled-jerk-volunteer. My host family, they “nek mien” which means “they have” or they rich. In turn, that means they own luxury items such as two Toyota Camrys, a refrigerator, and a washing machine. I'd bargain to say that many volunteers that know this fact about me, loath me just a little bit because I do not have to wash my clothes by hand. Ever. BUT IT'S NOT MY FAULT! BLAME PEACE CORPS! I did not choose to live in this Cambodian mansion. I am not the enemy!

[Insert photo of washing machine here] CAN'T FIND.

(**Americans: next time you look at your pile of dirty laundry and get annoyed because you have to dump it in a washer, shut the little door, push a button, and forget about them for an hour, think, just for a moment, of all the poor Peace Corps Volunteers all around the world that are getting blisters on their hands from hand washing their red-dirt stained clothes once a week. Appreciate, no, WORSHIP this magical machine because it is probably the most magnificent appliance you will ever own.**)

I quietly weeped behind my Tom & Jerry bed sheets because...I don't know why, I felt sorry for myself? Why so weepy? Oh yeah, was it the post-vacation-blues? No, I think I'm over that. That time of the month? Well, yes but whatever, I can cry when I want damnit! Leave me alone!!! The change in the weather? Nah, but as far as I'm concerned, it's perpetually summer here and that can make anyone go a little nutzo. Legit seasons give you something to look forward to or dread, whatevs. So what is it, Laura? Why do you feel this way? Why the funk?

I can't give you a straight answer because I do believe it was F. All of the above. A composition of too many things, making it difficult to really discern why the funk exists.

But let me tell you about this weird natural occurrence that I believe happens to many volunteers. You can wake up in whatever mood – Happy, sappy, annoyed, whatever – and then have one single encounter that can throw you way off of your center. Today I was thrown into the pool where it was between 5ft and 6ft deep which is a little too deep for comfort for a 5'2” person. But I was able to doggie paddle for a while and finally find a place to step flat-footed. (note: figurative pool)

In a normal world, emotions generally stay fairly steady within one given day. But in the day in the life of a PCV, your emotions are a cascading roller-coaster that is falling apart while still moving forward and upside-down at 60mph. You can be laughing one second and then crying the next minute because your favorite breakfast lady wasn't at the market and your flip-flop fell off when you were trying to get moving on your bike. It doesn't take a lot. But even if you did cry an hour ago, another encounter might flip you right back on track on that rickety old roller-coaster.

For me, it took a moment of cross-cultural sharing with my neighbors. They're daughter is getting married on Saturday which I am both looking forward to but also not looking forward to at all because a wedding next door means no silence for approximately 3 days. They asked me if weddings were the same in America and I did not have the words or the energy to explain in Khmer how they are very different so I grabbed my computer instead. I showed them pictures of my friend Caitlin's wedding because her wedding was classic but also very indicative of America's uniqueness. Many Khmer people have their assumptions of America and I wanted to show them how diverse it is. Sharing the wedding photos turned into an hour long slide show which I really enjoyed. I think my neighbors did too but it's sometimes hard to tell these things.


Caitlin & Hubby Sugi Dancing like champions.




And then I rewarded myself with more episodes of Modern Family and later, a run through the village. Fortunately, my back pain is lessening and during my run positive thoughts flowed through my brain. I was reminded that it doesn't take a lot to connect with people in my village and I have to stop being so afraid to do it. I have to stop watching so much TV (after I finish this last disc) and stop eating so many M&Ms (once I'm done with that last bag...) and go outside and just hang out with people. Don't be such a dope, Laura!

Now get the FUNK outta here! I love you.

BOOK REPORT #2

Dudes,

Do you ever get introduced to a book, read the first page, and thereupon tear through the pages like it's a bar of fancy chocolate? (mmmmmm...fancy chocolate...)

I've been on a nonfiction kick for the last couple of weeks. For some reason, the idea of reading about fictional characters right now is a big turn off for me. I've got enough stuff going on in my life and rattling around in my head right now that's stranger than fiction. Why should I invest more precious brain juices on those characters? Why not suck up some real earth knowledges? Yes.....earthly earth knowledge sounds delicious right about now.

So anyway, back to the books. I had a makeshift two-person book club going for a month or so, which has since dismantled (story of my life right now. Everything's falling apart!!!! Me, dramatic?) For our second book in our book club, I chose the The Omnivore's Dilemma by Michael Pollan. He writes primarily about food (which (reading about food) can be detrimental to the mental health of any Peace Corps Volunteer, by the way.) Another book of his that I read years ago was The Botany of Desire, in which he explores the beneficial relationship (co-dependent?) between humans and four specific plants: apples, tulips, marijuana, and potatoes.

You like food? READ THIS!


What I loved about The Omnivore's Dilemma was Pollan's personal experience throughout his journey into the world of different food industries and food-life philosophies. The first part goes into the dark, dingy depths of the corn industry of America. Man, I love corn. But in a very different way than you'd expect. The only way I really like to eat corn is raw (DON'T KNOCK IT TILL YOU TRY IT!) But what I really REALLY love about corn is it's history in America and how it grows. I had a cornucopia of corn knowledge prior to reading this book due to one of my favorite people in the Universe, Jeffry Nistler.

This is Jeff rocking not one but TWO man-purses (the top one MIGHT be a camera bag...)


Jeff is, among many other talents, a farmer and I was lucky enough to work for him for 8 years (hopefully he'll take me back when I'm an unemployed returned peace corps volunteer.) I was a farm hand; especially skilled at hoeing and transplanting melons. Jeff's specialty is sweet corn in the summertime, pumpkins and squash (among other curious gourds) in the fall-time, trees in the wintertime, and exploring Peru in the dead of wintertime. He also builds bikes!

Not sure who is enlightening who here: Jeff on the left. That other guy with the cane is awesome.


And so it was Jeff who instilled me with a great many nuggets of corn facts. This is why I am now proud to call myself a corn snob. But the corn that Jeff grows is different than the corn Pollan highlights in the first part of his book. He attempts to follow corn from a farm in Iowa to one of the many places it could be taken throughout America - from feedlots (or CAFOs: Concentrated Animal Feeding Operations) in Kansas all the way to a McDonald's in Marin County California. Basically, this corn that Pollan is talking about is feeding most Americans unknowingly. Example: a McDonald's chicken nugget (mmmmmm chicken nuggets) has 38 ingredients, 13 of which are differently processed versions of corn. (mmmmmmmm...?)

After he tears the industrialized food industry a new one, he moves on to the "ORGANIC" food industry. And this part just makes me giddy because organic food truly is an industry which is completely contradictory of what the Organic food people are constantly preaching. I understand what organic food is attempting to say and do but how they end up doing it is not by definition organic. There are just TOO many people in America trying to be organic at the same time. So get off your high horse. You're not better than everyone else if you eat organic sausages or granola cereal. And then there's thing thing called "Beyond Organic" which is really what Organic wishes it could be. Just read the damn book and you'll know what I'm talking about.

The last meal Pollan explores is that of a hunter-gatherer which was by far my favorite of his adventures. He killed a wild boar in California which was one of his first experiences hunting. He went morel mushroom hunting with a bunch of weird dudes in a forest. He usufruct some cherries to make a dessert. Can I go back to America and live as a hunter-gatherer? Do I know anyone that knows how to identify mushrooms? If so, please speak up! Teach me your ways.

If you care at all about what you eat (where it comes from and how it is what it is) you should read The Omnivore's Dilemma. But don't take my word for it!!! #READING RAINBOW.

QUIET: Hard thing to come by in Cambodia.


On to the next one, on the the next one: before I let my mind slip into complete malaise, I zapped my next book into motion on my fancy little nook e-reader thingy (thanks mom and dad.) Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that Can't Stop Talking by Susan Cain (my new best friend.) My friend and old co-worker Elliott (Read about him here!) gave me his copy when he finished it last year but I didn't have enough time to read it before flying away on an aeroplane to Cambodia. So I downloaded a copy from the mighty interwebs (completely legally; bought and paid for.)

"Restorative Niche": my bedroom in a South Minneapolis basement.


I couldn't put this book down and the best part was, I didn't want to leave my room or my other secret reading nook while reading it. I needed to be alone! I was learning about myself and needed to pay close attention. If you've been an avid "Laurax Doodles in Khmer" reader then you'd know that I've struggled a bit with the "Who Am I?" question, feel guilt-ridden when I hermit myself too much, and feel too much pressure in the spotlight at times. In certain chapters I felt like I was reading about myself!

The book is about 300 pages and I highlighted it 92 different times (awesome feature of the nook)! Here are some highlighted highlights:

• "cross the street to avoid making aimless chitchat with random acquaintances"
• "many introverts are prone from earliest childhood to strong guilt feelings; we also know that we all tend to project our own reactions on to others" (whoa...)
• "people who tend to [suppress their negative emotions] regularly, might start to see the world in a more negative light." (ruh-roh!)
• "self-monitors are highly skilled at modifying their behavior to the social demands of a situation." (hello, pseudo-extrovert Laurax.)
• "taking shelter in bathrooms is a surprisingly common phenomenon, as you probably know if you're an introvert." (I love bathroom hideaways. Stalls are a great place to cry.)
• "we can stretch our personalities, but only up to a point."
• "introverts often feel as if they express themselves better in writing that in conversation." (blogging!)

This book helped me realize that I am not totally whacked out. That maybe the things I do are more normal than I thought they were. It also made me realize why I oftentimes feel completely overwhelmed in my village. Like I've said before, PCVs are "on duty" the moment they walk out of their bedroom and that can be draining when it's every single day, especially for someone with introverted tendencies. There aren't many "restorative niches" or quiet places to re-energize. I think, with confirmation from this book, there are many people that struggle to understand who they truly are. We try to put ourselves in to boxes; extrovert-introvert, outgoing-reserved, etc etc, but we don't have to be one or the other and we really can't be. It's just not possible. I've spent a lot of my life trying to be what people want me to be. One thing that makes me happier than anything is to make other people happy; but my misstep here was not taking care of myself first. I didn't recognize when I needed to disappear and find my "restorative niche" so I too could be happy.

One of my "Restorative Niches": My desk back home. Cluttered and yet so peaceful. Look! I'm on Facebook. Lolz.


You don't have to be introverted to read Quiet. If anything, it just makes you think about what makes you happiest and how knowing that can lead you to a life where you are truer to yourself. Or as Shakespeare once said (according to the book) "To thine own self be true."

Another "Restorative Niche": solo walks in Minneapolis


My current mission(book): Packing for Mars: The Curious Science of Life in the Void by Mary Roach. This lady is HI-Larious. Laughing out loud over here. I also read Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers by Mary Roach. I want to be this lady's friend also.

Packing for Mars: puking in zero-gravity and shit. Good stuff.


Read on, friends. READ. To infinity and beyond.

The Entertainer

I'm not gonna lie; I like attention. (I think I've mentioned this before...)

I have, from time to time throughout my life, enjoyed being the center of attention. (Don't laugh.) But one specification is that I choose when to be the entertainer. In order to be the center of attention, I have to #1. know my audience to a certain degree. And #2. I have to feel a certain amount of comfort with my audience. But the overall most important feature of receiving attention is that I have, in some way, control of this attention and if I get overwhelmed, I have the control to at some point run away and hide because sometimes I also have social anxiety and would rather be alone. (Dear audience: I hope you enjoy reading about how crazy I am. I'm not ashamed to admit that I've got issues. We've all got issues! And shoes!)

The Entertainer: I once figure skated to this song.


Now. Picture this: A moderately small village in the middle of Cambodia all of a sudden receives a ghostly creature that walks around everyday, choppily speaking the local language, and petting the dogs. For a handful of the people in this village, especially the young children, this is the first time they've ever seen a creature of such strange facial features and such a pallid skin tone. I can understand how puzzling such a creature may appear and how difficult it would be NOT to stare. But after a year, you'd think - YOU'D THINK!!! This creature would be old news by now.

The village I live in is a spot on a main highway smack dab in-between Phnom Penh and another popular city, Kampot, in Cambodia. It's INCREDIBLY loud - due to the traffic, especially because of the gigantic semi-trucks tumbling and speeding by every minute. And it is very transient. People from all over Cambodia stop by my village while they are traveling around the country. There's a decent sized market for van loads of people to stop and buy food to snack on during their travels. And when this happens, a van load of fresh eyes get to gaze upon the ghostly creature - ME - creeping around the village.

Find the foreigner! Photo credit: Kate Yoder.


Being a Peace Corps Volunteer is a 24/7 job. The moment I step foot out my room, I am essentially ON-DUTY. I have to churn out Khmer to the first person that I set my eyes on. I have to tell people where I'm going and what I'm doing at all times. I was never really a fan of small talk and, unfortunately, small talk is every conversation of my life, ever in Cambodia. Khmer people are the BEST at small talk! People will be rolling by on their motos and ask me where I'm going and not even wait to listen to my response. And rather than asking how someone is - a more common question is to ask if they've eaten rice yet "Hop bai howee rue nou?" It's just something they do. Small small small talk.

Fortunately, I have a pretty normal routine - I eat my breakfast at the same place, I drink my coffee at the same place, and talk to the same people on my way to and from work. Those people involved in my routine everyday respect me and I respect them. However, there is still this spotlight on me where everything and anything I do is somehow different (and spectacularly entertaining!!!) in comparison to everyone else in the village and therefore people must take note of this. People chuckle every time I tell them what I'm eating for breakfast. "Goat jol jet nyam baan chaio neung quitio chaa." ("She likes to eat baan chaio and fried noodles.") They point out that I drink coffee every morning but don't really notice that pretty much everyone else drinks coffee in the morning also. But I guess it's just that much more interesting because I am the foreigner.

When I go running, the same children scream "Hellllllloooooooooooooooo" at me and scream even louder when I don't respond still after running through the village for over a year now. People still offer me a ride on their motos when they pass me while I'm running. You'd think - YOU'D THINK, that after a year, they'd realize that I'm not trying to get somewhere, I'm just exercising. I'm that weird foreigner that exercises and pets dogs.

And I can't help but wonder - is being the foreigner like this in every third world country?

During our pre-service training, Peace Corps staff told us that staring in Cambodia is rude. But somehow this does not appear to apply when the gaze is turned around and pointing like a flesh burning laser on to a foreigner. I still can't quite figure this out. And think that the whole thing about "staring being rude" is a load of crap...

I have never felt so uncomfortable on such a regular basis because of so much unwanted attention. Strangers at the market blatantly taking photos of me with their camera phones. People, young and old, turning 180 degrees around in their seat - rubbernecking - to stare with unblinking eyes at me while I eat my bowl of noodles. I have never appreciated the idea of anonymity so much. The very concept of anonymity seems so foreign to me now that I am the token foreigner.

There are bad days, when I get so fed up with this unwanted attention that I find myself struggling to leave my room. Aren't they bored of me yet? I'm not here for their entertainment and yet, many days I feel like that's all I'm good for. "What's that weird foreigner up to today? Maybe she'll run down the road again." And on the days I don't run down the road - they are sure to make note of it and ask me about it later. "Why didn't you exercise today?" But those are the bad days.

But then there are good days. The days when I choose to be "the center of attention." The days I choose to dance with the neighbor kids in the front yard. The days I humor the random person passing through the village and answer 20 questions for them. My patience for this is growing thin but luckily, it's still present and hopefully enough to last me the next 9 months.

Sometimes I choose to be the center of attention in Cambodia. Photo credit: Hayley Knicely.


And I have to remind myself that I am kind of a novelty to the people in this village. I understand that it is strange seeing someone like me in the middle of nowhere in Cambodia. It just gets old when the 7,000 person is asking me who I am and why I'm here. No matter how much I fight this, it's not going to change. And I need to take this opportunity to teach the people in my village what some Americans are like. This is a goal for all Peace Corps Volunteers serving in all countries throughout the world.

I also have to remind myself that this experience is novel! I forget how unique this experience really is and it's rejuvenating to be reminded of how fascinating my life is right now. The fascination has worn off because of unavoidable monotony but every once in a while something completely bazaar happens and it brings me back to the Kingdom of Wonder - Cambodia. It's not everyday you see an elephant walk passed you during your morning coffee. It's not everyday (in America) you see two grown pigs attached to the back of a moto. It's not everyday the neighbors try to kill the sewer rats with rocks and sticks. There are things that are uniquely Cambodian (as far as I know) that I will miss once I'm back in Cambodia and again, I'm trying to remind myself (look to previous post "TIME SLIP") that my days in Cambodia are numbered. I can't let all this unwanted attention ruin the rest of my time here. It will still aggravate me but I will try to focus on the positive. And won't it be super weird going back to America where no one cares who I am? I will no longer be a celebrity! This is why celebrities go crazy!!! Losing celebrity can't be easy...

Random elephant marching through town. Photo credit: Stacy Biggs

So there was my rant.

The Aphasic Hermit

During most of my adolescence, I was convinced that I was a full-on extrovert. There was no question in my mind about this. I liked being the loud and weird one. I was the loud and weird one. But once I hit college, I started to feel more out of place, like the loud and weird Laura was just a façade. At times I felt energized when I was around people like my Cross Country team. I felt like I could be my loud and weird self without any contest. But at other times I wanted to hide; be silent. I began to face my own personal battles, like "what am I doing here with all of these put together people? Why am I at this outrageously expensive private college when I have no idea what I want to do with my life?" Those were a few of a number of battles I had knocking around in my head. When I attempted to fight off these thoughts, I found myself hiding out more and sticking with the friends that I knew loved me no matter which Laura I chose to be - the loud and weird Laura or the quieter and perhaps more thoughtful Laura.

Me: In my loud and weird adolescent phase


I spent so much time convincing myself that I was an extrovert that when I was quiet and not outgoing, I thought something was wrong with me. Time has taught me differently.

My post-college life has done wonders for my psyche. Very seriously. Whoever said "college years are the best years of your life" WAS CRAZY. I think that is one of the most depressing statements anyone could ever have fall out of their mouth. So my question is, do some people just give up after college? Just throw in the towel and say "Welp, I'm adult now. The fun is over." How could anyone end it right there when they're not even a quarter century into their life? For me, I actually started to live after college. Every year is better, not without new and often bigger challenges, but more rewarding and interesting. I feel much more capable now than I ever did as a lost sophomore in college.

I still experience great joy from being around people but realize how important it is for me to have time to recuperate. Back at TBI Metro Services, I was around people - usually 30 very demanding people - 8 hours a day. When I got home, I often spent the next 6 hours to myself unless I had to work at one of my other 50 jobs. (Just kidding, I only had 2½ jobs.) I like being alone but I didn't believe it at first. I used to feel bad for myself when I was alone on a weekend night. In Peace Corps it's almost written in the job application - "Volunteer should expect to spend most weekend nights alone, watching TV, and imagining pizza." (This is not entirely true but I'm sure I could get a couple "Amens" from some other PCVs holding it down in the village.)

It was an exciting day when the cat came into my room.


I thought working with brain injured adults was one of the most mentally draining work experiences ever. But I've never worked in corporate, or in a hospital, or as an ice road trucker, so I bet there are more mentally challenging jobs but that's beside the point. Before I came to Cambodia, I underestimated how much every daily encounter and exchange would take out of me in a different country. The simpleness of buying a cold beverage or buying breakfast in America is now gone. That comfort and ease of life in America was poured over by a foreign language, different social cues and norms, and so many cultural nuances that I still don't understand.

That baby's all like "wut are you doin' gurl!?!"


Simple statements like "The lightbulb burned out" are no longer simple and the words I need are missing. (That lightbulb has been out for a week now...) Complex conversations are never had. And strong, meaningful friendships are not as possible without the bond of a common language. I'm sure anyone could see this coming before moving to a foreign country but you'll never know how isolating it can be till you're steeped in it. Lacking sufficient language to have what is considered everyday conversation is like getting a glimpse into the life of a person suffering with aphasia. I know what to say but don't have the right words to make other people understand what I need or want. Or I try to say what I need but when other people listen all they hear is blubbery gobbledygook. I had a shocking experience like this just last week when I asked my friend "tgnai na?" (which means "what day?") I repeated it about 5 times and received only blank stares. After a year of saying this word - REALLY!? Does no one understand what I'm saying EVER?! Are they just smiling and nodding to me all the time?! OH DEAR GOD!!

But then the conversation got back on track and my blood pressure returned to it's resting state.

At times, I isolate myself more than I should. "Hermitting", as I call it, in my room with the fan blowing in my face and a book keeping me company. I'm learning that hermitting days are necessary for my sustained sanity but I can't help but feel guilty about it. (And can someone please tell me how I developed such a guilty conscience for everything and anything??) And when I finally come out of my cave, I find many friendly, smiling faces and kick myself for being such a hermitty hermit. I'm still trying to find a balance while reminding myself that what works for other people, won't always work for me. Especially compared to most Khmer people I know. They thrive off of other people, just sitting together (Ongoii-layng-ing = sit-play) and joking around together (nyay-layng-ing.) I can only do that for so long before I need to swim to the surface and catch my breath...

An island is a good place to catch your breath...


The past month or so was especially hermitty for me so I hope for my last year in Cambodia, I can find a happy medium between extroversion and introversion. A balance where I no longer have to feel guilty for my sometimes hermitty lifestyle. And I'm dropping this whole idea that I have to be either extroverted or introverted. Why are we always putting ourselves into boxes? Boxes are so constricting and claustrophobic. I'd prefer to be as limitless and undefined as a rice paddy field.

Rice paddy fields for days


Sometimes I'm loud and weird. Sometimes I'm quiet and weird. I guess one could say I've matured...but maybe that's going to far?

Alone and Weird.

I like me.