So Many Motions

Getting ahead of myself


Today, while taking my beloved dog-brother Beau for a walk, I finally had what I can honestly say is my first and truest feelings of loss and longing for Cambodia.

It started out as any typical walk with dog-brother Beau. It was dusk, and to me, it felt cool, almost chilly. And I thought to myself "Gee, I wonder if it still feels hot as balls to the other Minnesotans around here because I could sure use a sweater right now." I still have Cambodia in my blood because this "heat" everyone is experiencing is only the tip of the iceberg as far as Cambodian standards for heat go.
But back to my story.

Beau and I walked toward the Minnehaha Falls. I usually let him lead the way. I think he enjoys people making comments about how cute he is (or am I projecting here? Yeah, I love it when people tell him how cute he is.) We wandered toward the park, he did his business, and I dutifully picked up his business like any good older sister would do. On the way, I noticed a cardinal perched atop a tree along the creek. The sun-setting light glowed against the feathers of the cardinal making it shine such a brilliant red, so much so that I convinced myself for a second that maybe someone lost their brightly colored pet parrot. But no, it was only a cardinal but it sang its song sweetly and made me happy.

Then suddenly, with the falls misting in the background, I saw a familiar image across the chest of someone's t-shirt. To any other person, the simple graphic design might have looked like a few vertical squiggles on a shirt. But, I saw the elephants. Immediately, I stammered, and nearly tripped over my feet, to this woman that I am sorry for interrupting her, her friend, and her baby and asked her if she'd been to Cambodia. She said "yes, about a year and a half ago" and I continued to stammer to her that I served in Peace Corps there and got back about a year ago. She thanked me for my service and she said that she didn't think Peace Corps Volunteers received enough (or any...(well deserved)) recognition for their service. I said that I couldn't agree more. We serve our country as warriors of peace. We don't carry guns while walking through foreign lands.

I thanked her and we all carried on our separate and merry ways. Unfortunately, my initial feeling of happiness from the interaction was quickly overcome by sadness. And I couldn't pinpoint exactly why or where it was coming from at first. It took me a little bit of time...and a little bit of quiet crying while walking through happy picnicking groups of friends and families. Me, lowering my head so my hair partially covered my face so no one would accidentally see my tears or hear my soft sobs...

It's not weird for anyone to see a grown woman crying while walking her dog, is it?

Why so sad?


And then I understood what it was. I have subtly, or maybe not so subtly, been doing it for a little while now. It was that brief connection to the place I called home, be it bitterly or affectionately, for two years. For the most part nowadays, I am repressing my Cambodian life. The reason for this repression is because I lack an appropriate avenue to channel my Cambodian Life; the stories, the feelings, the frustrations, the suffering, and the love that all went along with living there. Sure, I can text or message my other Peace Corps friends but it's not always enough. Exactly how it was never enough to Skype or e-mail friends and family back home while I was in Cambodia. There needs to be a direct connection or it sometimes ends up falling kind of flat. Am I making sense?

It doesn't really matter if I am not making sense to anyone else. I get what I'm trying to say and I hope that maybe someone else out there can concur. Because I feel it all and I want other people to feel it all, too. You feelin' what I'm feelin'?

Either way, my not-so-subtle attempts to connect to Cambodia while being in America are weird and maybe even slightly offensive if I were a little bit more obvious about my mini-missions. I know, you're all like "What the hell are you talking about, Laura?"

Weeeeellll, let me tell you. I have, on more than one occasion, hovered around groups of people and families that have characteristics similar to those with Khmer ancestry in order to eavesdrop and find out whether they are truly Khmer......I always hope that someone will blurt out a couple of Khmer words. So then! Me! The awkward white girl standing nearby can awkwardly chime in? I don't really know how this would all pan out if it actually happened. In Cambodia, the novelty of the awkward white girl speaking Khmer kind of lost its allure after a while...when I could no longer understand the questions or possibly answered a question completely wrong and likely and unknowingly offended someone. So who knows how it would conclude if I intruded on a family outing of some unwitting strangers! Knowing me, and I know me pretty well, I will probably still try to attempt these mini-missions of mine. And why? Because I lack what most people would call "tact."

So...yeeeeahhhh, I know. Is that terrible? It's terrible. But I don't really care because a significant part of my life experience is being repressed and I'm finally starting to come to terms with this reality of mine. I have identified several ways that I can nourish this part of myself but as per my usual "style," I am procrastinating. The first step is acceptance. And I have accepted! And the proof is right here in this very blog post that I wrote after my walk with Beau. But not until after I ate straight from the carton of rocky road ice cream which is in my triathlon training plan. It says that "at least once a week, eat straight from the ice cream carton." And so, as I am training very seriously, and am obviously a staunch rule follower, I abide.
But really, I feel a lot better after writing this than I did once I put the ice cream away.

I miss Cambodia.

THERE!! I said it!!! Are you happy now?!

Yes, I am Laura. Thank you.
You're welcome, Laura.

Here! Have a baby! Be happy!
PHEW! That felt good to get off my chest.

p. diddy

Public Service Announcement:

I am a card carrying fan of the squattie pottie. Are you familiar with this primarily Eastern world essential piece of water closet equipment? I am pretty sure the last time we met, [put link to blog post here] I was discussing a problem of mine that I had in the bathroom so maybe I already explained the squattie pottie beyond the reaches of whatever you ever really needed to know?

I disagree. I don't think you know enough about the squattie pottie. Until you try the squattie pottie yourself and then install your own squattie pottie in your personal water closet in your American abode do you really know enough about the squattie pottie. Ya hear? And let me emphasize the importance of a butt sprayer. BUTT SPRAYER. You need it in your life. You will not realize how disgusting the idea of toilet paper, alone in sticky bathroom situations, truly is until you ditch the T.P. for 2 years and indulge in a handheld shower for your bunghole.

The butt sprayer is something that can be a tricky tool or perhaps, in some instances, a weapon to your very own derrière. You must test the intensity of a butt sprayer before you put it into action. If you don't test it out, you could end up giving yourself a personal enema and you don't want that, now do you?

But I'm not really here to warn you about these potential squattie pottie scenarios. I'm not really good at advice. I am good at making mistakes that I hope no one ever replicates in human history. And if history repeats itself, I have proof here on this blog that I did indeed warn the public, at least the "Laurax doodles in Khmer" blog reading public. Liability expunged?

Very much in the same way my previous blog post began, I was enjoying a few brewskis with my friends in the comfort of my home. (And now the people are wondering "Does Laura just drink beer in Cambodia?" It's debatable. But in my defense, this was the beginning of Khmer New Year which is an endless celebration for some.) I also had my good friend Stacy there as a wing woman/buffer/BAMF/etc. So we are being over fed an array of beer drinking foods, something Khmer people like to call "clime" (these are my best phonetics.) In America I think good "clime" would be potato chips, cheetos...uuhhhhh....pizza? It's been a while. What do Americans eat while drinking beer nowadays? I have no idea. "Clime" in Cambodia usually includes an array of meats and sauces to dip the meats in. And the ultimate Khmer snack: Pongtia Goan (some people think it should be spelled like this: pong tia koon ពងទាកូន <- Khmer all the way, baby.) You can click on that link to find the all knowing wikipedia page about it. I was turned on to pongtia goan, or partially developed duck embryo (uh, yeah I know...) somewhere around November 2013. I was a late bloomer but have not looked back since then. The main draw for me are the garnishes that accompany the egg - a chili garlic sauce, a pepper-salt-MSG-lime sauce, and little green leaves. "Eat, don't look" is my strategy. Also, "don't knock it till you try it."


Partially developed duck embryo. Try it, you'll like it!


And the night is full of cheers, laughter, and eating until it's time to break the seal. We reteach our friends what "break the seal" means and that that is what I am about to embark on. I walk around a couple of construction trucks to one of my family's 9 toilets. The squattie pottie awaits me, but has an unidentifiable object floating in it which I try to flush down with buckets of water. It doesn't go down so I decide to pee anyway. I complete my mission and try to flush the unidentifiable object down again. A couple of buckets poured down but the unidentifiable object is standing its ground. I stop and finally take a hard look at the unidentifiable object (did I mention it's dark in the stall? for some reason there's only a light outside of the toilet and not actually in the toilet.) The unidentifiable object is breathing? I get down and analyze the object and it is, indeed, a baby chick. A baby chicken is submerged in the squattie pottie toilet water. Gasping for air after I water boarded it a couple of times. OH. MY. GOD.

And what is the most logical thing to do? Reach into the squattie pottie water and scoop up the baby chick. I carry my now identifiable little winged friend and present him to my friends. In a somewhat squealing voice I say "Look at what I just peed on!" I think I said this in both English and attempted to explain what I did in Khmer. Once everyone completely understood the situation (in which I reacted to with great exaggerating hysterics) everyone laughed at me. My host mom told me to put the chick down and covered it with a food cover so the dogs wouldn't try to eat it after its already near death experience.

I went back to the water cisterns and quietly giggled to myself at the ridiculousness of what I just did. I felt like I had done something that changed my life for eternity. I could never turn back or fully recover from this incident. My life changed forever the moment I peed on a baby chick.

The excitement dulled down and we continued our small celebration. But my thoughts still strayed back to my baby chick. And that was when I decided to name it P. Diddy.

The lesson I learned in all of this was that squattie potties, as perfect as they are for doing your business, have dangers that are not always visible to the naked eye. And in conclusion, please PLEASE install a squattie pottie but please PLEASE, make sure you baby chick proof it immediately after installation.


Grown up P.Diddy.

So we're in Kansas after all....

I have always been a fan of biking as a form of transportation because, well let's face it, cars are terrible. And I was a given a shiny-new-sky-blue mountain bike from Peace Corps but...I...don't....really....need it. My entire town is about the equivalent of 2-3 long blocks in Minneapolis. Okay, maybe four. The mundol sokapeeup (health center) is about 200 meters away from my house. The p'saa (market) is across the street from my house. And those are the only places I visit.

Okay, okay. I'm under-exaggerating a little but a bike isn't necessarily necessary in a place so small. But don't tell that to any Khmer person anywhere because having to walk more than 10 feet is ch'ngai naa (very far.) And I do actually need my bike. I need to ride my bike to cool places like the happening provincial town of Takeo, and to my training village Angtasom to get frustrated that the bank doesn't really provide any services on Saturday but is still open. Hait ai?! (Why?!)

So the bicycle is utilized for necessary trips far and wide in good ol' Takeo Province. I'm also trying to take more aimless trips to villages off the main road. So far I've taken only two such aimless trips on my own and during each of those aimless bicycle trips: I GOT LOST.

What me lost?! How is that possible? Travel with me in NYC; we can get off the subway at a random station and I know which way is north and please trust me (Xin Wang (I love you!!)) when I say which way is the correct way. I know! I have an amazing sense of direction thanks to my weird parents. My mom prefers to read maps and my dad uses landmarks such as car dealerships to find his way. I'm a nice mixture of the two.

My bike ride today started out like any normal ride through the village. Villagers ogling and laughing at me as I rode down the dirt road. Children screaming "HELLO!" at the top of their lungs a little too late as I'm well past their home. And I think to myself "I'm not saying "hello." You lost your chance. And I wasn't going to say "hello" anyway." The sun was beating down with great force but it was a lovely day for a bike ride, nonetheless.


Welcome to the jungle.


I found turkeys. And if anyone knows me at all, they know I like me some turkeys. I didn't chase them down the street as I usually do. I respected the beautiful animals and simply stalked them for a while. I asked a guy if he knew what they were called in Khmer. He did not know. Cambodia has a serious lack of birders.


turkeys! come back! I love you!!!!!!


I biked beyond the landmarks that were familiar to me and just kept going. I found a new wat that was beautiful for the most part, other than a deep hole in the earth and piles of dirt surrounding it. I did not take photos of that.


Wat the Wat?!


Once I moved beyond the wat, I found myself surrounded by mountains and fertile farm land dedicated to more than just rice. It was inspiring to be out there and I really thought I was OUT THERE! Like, I had no idea where the hell I was - out there. But I was happy to be wherever that was. I made friends with a yay and awkwardly asked if I could take her photo. She was more than willing and even had us walk to a bunch of trees she thought were pretty so she could stand next to them.


My new yay friend that I'll probably never see again.!?!


I rolled down the rocky, pot-holed, mud-holed, puddled old dirt road until "WHOOOAAA!!"

NO, I didn't fall off my bike. I spotted two amazing birds I've never seen before! They flew around the trees and spiraled around each other and chirped loudly and brilliantly. I gazed at them slack-jawed and tried to sear their color, shape, and size into my brain. I had to find out what kind of birds they were.

I looked through each page of my "Birds of SE Asia" book only to find one bird that sort of, maybe was the right one; the Asian Fairy Bluebird. But it wasn't the same bird. I then searched the internets, googled the description of the bird, and google failed me. The bird that best fit the image I seared into my brain earlier was the Bronzed Cowbird but according the know-it-all-internets, this bird is only found around the Americas, North & South. Now, what the eff? How did that bird get all the way to SE Asia? Flying, I guess. That's what I'm telling myself, at least.

Bronzed Cowbird. I did not take this photo. Photo by Jeff Wendorff


After my brief encounter with an exciting set of unusual birds, I felt kind of like I was floating through my unknown countryside, encased in dazzling green mountains. I rode blissfully through this wonderland and the question of where I was only tickled at my brain a little. It had been a good hour and a half since I left my house and I wasn't ready to return just yet. I also thought that I'd eventually hit the main road. According to my keen sense of direction...I was traveling Southwest...right? The sun is up there...above my head over there...wait, whut? humph...


Mountains and Fields.


Then I thought I saw a familiar landmark in the distance, a wat placed on top of a small mountain that's right off the main road. I was slightly relieved because I thought my navigation skills were being awesome for me. As I rode on...the dirt road just kept going and it never connected with the main road as I thought it would. "I coulda sworn that was the wat that's by National road 3...Okay, just keep going...you'll get there" was my thought process. "Just keep going. You'll run into it eventually."


So...where am I? Oh look! a mud pond.


And then self-doubt began to seep in. Maybe my navigation skills aren't that awesome. What has Cambodia done to me? It was time to stop for directions. I approached a T in the road and asked a smiling woman where plow layk buy (road number 3) was. She told me to go that way, and then that way and then you'll be there. That's probably what she said. And I was all like "oh, of course. I know exactly what you are saying to me." I will go that way. I went that way and then I was still not there yet.

I stopped for directions again. I found some gentlemen and asked them where plow layk buy was and this time I also asked them "ponmaan kilo brohail?" (about how many kilometers?) One man said "Tramkok? brampeul kilo, ch'ngai" or 7K, far.

HA! Oh, yeah. far... And when he said Tramkok, I thought he was referring to the district of Tramkok which is fairly large, not the town Tramkok. Because I thought I was miles and miles away from home. Remember, I was OUT THERE! And he told me to turn right and go through the wat and some other stuff. I clarified with him several times until I thought for sure I knew where to go. This place was completely new to me.

I did as the gentlemen told me to and biked toward the wat and then I was filled with crazies and confusion because all of a sudden, I knew exactly where I was...I was within 7K from my house. Wait, whut? huh? How is that possible? And in that moment, I was no longer floating and cruising in my blissful state of mind. I knew where I was and I was going home. I felt like someone had smacked me with a large log to wake me up after a happy dream. I wasn't ready to go home.


a nice view


And here I am back in my stuffy room, melting my brain on the internets. I really need to go on more bike rides.