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.

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!!!

To Catch a Thief

After living in a country for over a year, it's easy to get overly confident or what some people may call "Cocky." I would never accept such a vulgar descriptive word like "cocky" to define myself but some people may find it applicable. Regardless of what you want to call me - that's not the issue at hand - the issue at hand is safety and security in a third world country.

Peace Corps volunteers enjoy a good celebration every once in a while. The most recent celebration was to honor the newest editions to our Peace Corps Cambodia family, the K7s (AKA - the seventh group of PCVs to enter into service in Cambodia.) We had a very super professional Meet & Greet session at the office, broke up into provinces for dinner, and reconvened at our Country Director's house for hors d'oeuvres and fancy drink (i.e. > $3 wine; it was a big night.) For some of us PCVs our night shan't end simply. The night must also contain an introduction to our most frequented watering holes in the city of Phnom Penh.

A number of PCVs have entered the Mekong River Lounge in the past and cleaned the place of beer. Dancing is also a common happenstance. We often take control of the musical decisions and amaze the other perturbed guests with our quality of dance. We offer a great many forms of entertainment when there happens to be 50+ PCVs within the same establishment.

Some PCVs end their night at the Mekong and cheers to those smart individuals who believe in the power of sleep. Others find the dancing options of the Mekong limited and disappointing and therefore take their business to another area of town that offers dance varieties unknown and very foreign to the villages we spend most of our time in. This particular night, I was one such PCV. But I was thankfully not alone. At least 20 PCVs decided to learn about the dance club culture along with me. We also all refused the inconvenient form of transportation known as the tuk-tuk. Why? Because we're cheap; too cheap to spend 50¢ or perhaps 75¢ per person to get to a location in 5 - 10 minutes rather than 30 - 40 minutes by walking.

Not a tuk-tuk, Not even a Taxi.


So we began our trek - me in my $5 high heels - and within no more than 10 minutes of departing the Mekong, my night was flipped upside-down. When I walk around Phnom Penh, I tend to walk in the middle-ish of the street, often times because this is the only option. Sidewalks are for cars, ya dummies! And we own the streets, COME ON! (Here's where cockiness is an issue) And when it's near midnight, there are fewer cars and motos around so it just makes sense to walk in the street, right? Or not. I was walking and talking with some lovely K7 PCVs when suddenly a moto flew by the right side of my body and stunningly, took my purse along with it. SHOCK. I watched as two men on the moto zoomed away down the dark street, completely dumbstruck. "THEY JUST TOOK MY BAG!!" I finally managed to say to the others around me. It happened so quickly and smoothly that everyone was astounded. All I had left was the strap hanging around my neck. The thieves cut the straps and with something extremely sharp because the movement was seamless. There was no struggle, no tension. I'm incredibly lucky that I didn't get slashed in the process.

Never seen this movie before but I'm played by Grace Kelly, duh.


I am so grateful that I was surrounded by my friends, old and new, when this happened. Without them, I would have been completely helpless. Automatically, one PCV called up our Safety and Security officer - Reaksmey. This man is amazing and answers his phone even when it's nearly midnight. He cares a great deal about the volunteers and does his job better than anyone could. He calmed me down and asked me to come into the office the next day so we could write up a police report. I thanked him for talking to me at such a late hour and he told me it wasn't a problem. Seriously, he is the best of the best.

Oddly enough (or maybe I was just being normal), I continued my journey with my fellow PCVs and went dancing. My friend Mike gave me money which he really did not have to do. He just did it out of the goodness of his big ol' heart. Other PCVs joked that he would have baked me a cake right then and there if he had the ingredients (Mike is an exceptional baker.)

Katy Perry eating pizza, everyone!


After a solid couple of hours of dancing, we went to a new PCV favorite - Katy Perry Pizza. It's a pizza joint set up on the sidewalk - baking pizzas out of a large steel drum turned into an oven. Pretty solid marketing they've got going on. We consumed many a pizza and continued the socialization of the K7s. I unfortunately began recounting the items I lost when my purse was snatched. Wallet containing over $30, Cambodian bank card, American bank card, Minnesota ID, phone, small sketchbook, 2 pens, lipstick, and oh no, MY iPOD! This country does not want me to have an iPod. My good ol' classic iPod was buried here after 7 or so good years. My parents sent me a new iPod touch for my birthday last year and a month later it mysteriously disappeared. And now this one rode off on a moto.

Losing an iPod is never an accepted incident. And it especially broke my heart because of my need for music while running and more so, my love affair with Instagram. My Olympus Pen E-PL1 is acting finicky lately so I don't take him out anymore. My iPod became the perfect tool for documenting the most interesting things I see in this country. The iPod camera wasn't the best quality but it was enough to capture the people, the oddities, and sceneries that really make Cambodia stand out. So unfortunately there may be a photo drought for a while.

this little lady regrets the loss of Lauraxamo's Instagram access


On the contrary, upon my realization that my iPod was gone, another volunteer - a new volunteer, named Devin casually offered to GIVE ME his iPod. He said he had two so I could take the extra, at least temporarily. How can someone be so nice? The kindness of volunteers, the network we have within our kooky family is incredible and is only growing stronger. I am forever indebted to Devin for his gift. And I practically just met the guy!

Bike journey Instagrammed



The night of dancing and debauchery ended quite late and once I returned to my room, I was alone to my thoughts and realized there was no way I could sleep. So I decided to Skype with my parents at 4AM. They thought it odd I be awake at such an hour and also thought my face looked particularly cried on. "I am crying" I responded and gave them the rundown of my night. Talking to them put me at ease. I have really awesome parents. I miss those guys like something crazy. And eventually I let them go and thought it was perhaps time to sleep. Sleeping was a disappointment and unsuccessful so I gave up and went for a run instead. I needed to blow off steam. And with the leftover money from Mike I bought myself cookies for an after-run snack. Feeling better already.

Following the run, I cleaned myself up and made my way to the Peace Corps office but stopped by a cage of puppies for sale and told everyone of them I was going to buy them. False promises. Coincidentally I ran into Mike after the puppy-stop and he gave me a brand new sketch book and nice drawing pencils! I am blown away by this guy. I'm gonna draw him up something real nice. At the office, Safety and Security officer, Reaksmey, and I recapped the theft so he could file a police report. My phone was replaced and the phone number is still the same which is super duper great. Reaksmey helped me deal with my Cambodian bank account and set almost everything right. I could not be happier with how this situation was handled. He deserves a raise!

The theft of my purse was not the first nor the last this weekend. I was one of 4 volunteers that were robbed within 3 days. As I left the office with two other volunteers, my friend Amanda's purse was also taken in the clear of day. It's possible that with increased tension surrounding the recent election is one reason for an increase in crime. This is also true during big Cambodian holidays like the Water Festival and Khmer New Year, when more people are traveling around. But one thing is for sure, these thieves are GOOD at what they do. They have it down to an art, a repulsive art form but practiced and perfected nonetheless.

These thieves do not represent the country Cambodia truly is. Khmer people are the most generous and welcoming people I've met so far and these thieves are a despicable people making a bad name of a remarkable place. Tourism is rapidly building up the economy and it would be a shame to see petty crime ruin the progress of a country that deserves so much love. I am very disappointed and borderline rage-full of the events that took place this week but I'm not letting this experience ruin Cambodia for me. It is by no means perfect here but it is something special and awe-inspiring. I'm taking this as a learning experience; to reduce my "cockiness" while in the city, be smarter about my belongings and myself. Overall, this experience makes me appreciate my life in the village where there is an established closeness and trust amongst everyone and that alone makes me feel more safe and secure. I may not have caught any thieves but I have been graced with the kindness and support of many outstanding volunteers and Peace Corps staff.

This yay is proof of Cambodia's greatness

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.