Small Hands, Big Heart.

The One Where I Biked to Vietnam and Rang in Another Khmer New Year

Wed, 06 Jun 2012 04:54:45 -0400

So much has happened in the last few months. But since I forgot to write about my April vacay.. I figured that would be an okay place to start

I spent the first three days in April riding my bike through Cambodia and across the border into Vietnam. I began the 330km sojourn from my site in central Cambodia, making my way south to Phnom Penh, and headed South East to the understated provinces of Prey Veng and Svay Rieng. Having the opportunity to venture to PV and SR was one of my biggest incentives for doing another big bike trip-and I was so happy to see this pocket of the country I had yet to travel through! I was so impressed with the stretches of land that were saturated with rice paddies and palm trees and of course, the friendly locals. I also had the pleasure of visiting another PCV living in Svay Rieng town before crossing over into Vietnam.

Riding the Neok Leoung Ferry

Beautiful open road

Arriving in Ho Chi Minh City was a complete chaotic nightmare, but thankfully enough time has passed that I can laugh at the absurdities that ensued. Having my bike was without question the biggest inconvenience imaginable, and the fact that I survived getting lost in that city for 3 ½ hours seems unfathomable at this point ha! None of the signs were in English, no one SPOKE English, and there were four times as many motos as there are in Cambodia. Anyways, after I finally got settled, I spent my first night in the city trolling the streets, visiting a night market, listening to some jazz music at a local bar, and taking some pictures of city hall.

This is not a picture I took, but I wanted to provide a glimpse of the lunacy of trying to ride a bike through THIS.

City Hall

The following morning I headed North (on a bus…had to give my ass a break :] ) to a beach town called Mui Ne. The coast was stunning, lined with a picturesque balance of beach fronts and red sanded cliffs. On the opposite side of the main highway were the vast red sand dunes that are one of the main tourist attractions of the beach. I spent a few days sauntering back and forth between the ocean and the town, checking out boutiques that I couldn’t afford even a postcard in, eating the most DELICIOUS seafood I have had in all of Asia, playing soccer on a turf field (that’s right…ASTRO TURF), and listening to live acoustic music.

Side note-This was my first time traveling alone, and while I only had a week on my own before planning to meet some friends also heading to Nam, I have to say, I had an absolute KILLER time hanging out with myself.

ANYWAYS! After my days at the coast, I headed back to HCMC to meet other PCV’s and really sink my teeth into the capital city. We spent the next few days delving into the historical drudgery of the Vietnam War, visiting the Cu Chi Tunnels and the War Remnants Museum. While the travel books and online guides warn you of the propaganda you are about to be enthralled in, I admit to being quite shaken by the whole experience. Not only did I realize how uneducated I was regarding the whole era, but I began to understand the true devastation and disturbing reality of the war. It was unsettling to say the least. Thankfully my boyfriend was a history major and assisted in filling in the blanks and providing some clarity for me :]

Cu Chi Tunnels. Could you fit in there?

TRAPS! These were originally created to catch tigers, and were later used to capture and kill American soldiers

Um, we’re sorry.

Billy and I out in Saigon!

I returned in Cambodia overwhelmed with excitement to speak a language I knew, see the people I love, and celebrate my second Khmer New Year with my friends and family at site. In true Cambodian fashion, the four day celebration was copious with the best of the best Khmer food, late night dance parties at the wats, water games, karaoke, and lots of hammock time

My fam playing some cards

Visiting Wat Bonouk

With Kimheng’s fam bam

Following the NY, I headed west to my training host family for my first visit since moving out of their beautiful home almost 2 years ago.

The One Where I Got Angry

Thu, 29 Mar 2012 13:47:00 -0400

It’s been a really long time since I’ve had anything to say, primarily because work has been pretty monotonous lately, but also because I didn’t feel I had anything positive to write about. The last three months of this journey have been without question the most difficult to date. I attribute this to quite a few factors, however, all of them are carefully positioned beneath the umbrella of one thing; my attitude.

Since the third grade, my dad has been steadfast in reminding me that “attitude is everything,” and his voice has been louder than ever lately.

It wasn’t until last week when I was filling out a tri-annual report on my service to date that I realized how severely the day to day happenings of living in a developing country were affecting me. This whole platform of self-awareness I used to stand on was shattered beneath my feet as I began writing about the concerns I was having at site. My stream of consciousness ran away from me and my fingers relentlessly unleashed this truth that I was about to share with our entire staff, while before I had only spoken to a few individuals about it.

It all sounds pretty melodramatic, I know.

The thing is, for the first couple months, I was completely unaware of how quickly my positivity was unraveling. Every day presented a different challenge, or rather, a different opportunity to exude patience, compassion, and cultural competence, and to be honest, every day for those three months, instead of managing my actions and emotions in a productive manner, I simply folded. I lashed out (mostly internally, ya know, for fear of losing face and all), but there were even days where I found myself scowling at the men who heckle me every time I go out for a run, or cursing the truck drivers who, on the daily, threaten the lives of my students with their reckless driving on highway 6. I was angry more than I ever knew I was capable of being. Angry at the corruption, livid by the poverty and malnourishment, IRATE at the obscene disregard for traffic safety, frustrated with my co teacher’s/student’s inability to be consistent in simply SHOWING UP for class. And the fact was, I knew the issues I was seeing and experiences I was having weren’t exclusive to my life and my village; these were truths of most volunteers serving in Cambodia. Like most Peace Corps countries, it’s just not an easy place to live sometimes.

I recently joined PC Cambodia’s diversity committee with the intention of contributing my understanding of how things work here to better support fellow volunteers and staff in raising awareness and heightening the level of sensitivity throughout the program. During our preliminary meeting a few months back, we had a round table discussion regarding diversity concerns we have encountered during our service thus far. Without disclosing the specifics of a colleague’s story, I will say that I was astonished to learn of the trials this individual faces on a daily basis.

Being African American in a country that deems white skin as the pinnacle of beauty, coupled with a general knowledge that when it comes to appearances, Cambodians will tell you exactly what they think, you can imagine the type of scrutiny and judgment this person faces in their community. The gravity of these criticisms is one that I will never be able to truly empathize with however, being let in to her world even for a moment, listening to the negative affects these outright aversions to her skin color were having on her self-image was distressing. This woman, noted from another volunteer as, “The type of person who just makes you feel ALIVE when you’re around them,” was having her spirit dismantled simply because of her race.

I was so angry for her.

(I will also mention, this PCV is a soldier who hasn’t allowed the ongoing verbal beat-down of her external beauty detour her work ethic or contribution as a volunteer. Her strength and persistence is one that is admired throughout our group, and her resilience only betrays the intense courage and tenacity of her character.)

I share this because I am on my way out of it. I share this because I am fortunate enough to be surrounded by friends, both Cambodian and American, who have helped me balance the successes with the failures, the great days with the shitty days, and resolving concerns as they arise while coping with problems beyond my control. I speak candidly about the last three months because adversity (and rising above it) is often what generates deeper value in our lives.

I appreciate the perspective… the attitude adjustment that this window of time has lent me. I am grateful for the bold reminder that a job of this caliber and an experience of this capacity require a fierce dedication to re-commit every day, and an unwavering perseverance to live with integrity and humility. This Cambodian life has evolved beyond the novelties that once dazzled me. It has become a distinct part of who I am in giving me the opportunity to begin maturing my understanding of humanity, and sharpen the focus on my personal values.

The One With all the Thanks

Fri, 25 Nov 2011 00:17:00 -0500

Thanksgiving in Cambodia, round two.

Misfortune revealed its ugly mug last week when for the first time since arriving in the Bode, I got sick (like the, ‘oh crap, I need to get medical attention STAT’ kind of sick), thus interrupting my second week back at school and forcing me to head into Phnom Penh for a slew of doctor’s appointments, blood tests, etc. I spent a good portion of my days in PP in my hotel room, stirring from the insatiable craving to get home and set my everyday life back in motion, while simultaneously cursing this nasty infection that had invaded my once normally functioning and healthy kidney.

For the record…I AM OKAY!

Having plunged head first into this negativity crevasse, I did what I would normally do if ever I was overwhelmed with frustrations, whether it be it back in San Diego or cooped up in my bedroom at site; I took some time and flipped through the pages of my gratitude book to remind myself simply that this Cambodian life is pretty rad. Here a just a few of the THOUSANDS of things I have come to love and be grateful for during my Peace Corps experience

For this, I am thankful…

*When the sun rises over Wat Psieng (and the rare occasion for which I find myself awake to marvel at this beauty)

*WATER BUFFALO!

*The mouth-watering deliciousness that IS cafe duk dok go, duk ga (ice coffee)

*My host mother’s weathered, wrinkled, scarred, hands. They are the most beautiful hands I’ve ever seen.

*When Khmer women wear pajamas, toe socks, and high heels…at the same time

*The ocean of rice paddies that encircle my village with the most vibrant, eye catching greenery I’ve ever seen

*My mosquito net. While providing me protection from contracting any mosquito-born illnesses in the wee hours of the night, it simultaneously serves as the princess-like canopy I never had as a little girl.

*My counterpart Kimheng when she giggles, dances, talks about women’s empowerment, makes house visits to students who are sick, and basically just being an inspiring best friend.

*The look on Vannak’s face (my 12^th grade student last year) when he won the provincial-wide Spelling Bee

*The absence of any hills, mountains, or even the slightest incline in my village, making it ALMOST feasible to bike, run, or ‘dair layng’ with relative ease in this swelter shelter of a country

*CAMBODIAN WEDDINGS. CAMBODIAN WEDDINGS. CAMBODIAN WEDDINGS.

*My LCF’s patience when teaching me Khmer

*Meeting Sarah Bartel. Puuuube.

*My rockin’ Hello Kitty cell phone

*Watching my students do push-ups during p.e. (it’s kind of like the worm)

*Having been present to witness the reunion of my father and his childhood friend Kinnal

*My 9^th grade co-teacher Mr. Mop, for while we may have differing philosophies on teaching, student relations, lesson planning, and well…pretty much everything, the dude can make a MEAN paper airplane.

*Luanda, my amazingly reliable trek bike who has taken me LITERALLY across this country, surviving her fair share of flat tires, broken chains, and janky brakes. She’s more dependable

than most busses I’ve ridden here.

*Coconut juice at my disposal any every hour of the day

*Channel V-for keeping me updated on what’s new and good and kicking ass in the music scene.

*Sreynoch, my younger sister, for emulating an unwavering generosity and kind spirit on the day to day despite her demands in school and at home.

*Trolling the city late at night in Phnom Penh when the streets are quiet and still and the only sound present is the subtle hum of my bike gears

*The cheeky noises (errr, screeches) Khmer women make when they are; 1)excited 2) surprised 3)frazzled

*The predictability of the rain during monsoon season

*Those moments where I feel entirely helpless, unproductive, belittled, frustrated, or confused for ultimately keeping me humble and reminding me to recommit myself every.single.day.

*My Bong Channty. I have never met a woman who means it more when she smiles.

*Being in the midst of a Buddhist culture and the consistent equanimity it produces

*The two little boys who live at the end of my road who always run the last 10 feet of my jog with me

*The vicious dogs who chase me, subsequently making me run that much harder

*Cool afternoon breezes that provide temporary relief from the mid-day sun

*The resourcefulness of men who can fix anything from a cracked cellphone to a flat tire with the simple flick of a lighter flame (don’t ask me how they do it, it’s sorcery I tell you!)

*HAMMOCK TIME

*This whole “what’s mine if yours” communal sharing-type mentality. Hey Molly and Kate-fair warning, this philosophy WILL be carried home with me next year, so start preparing yourselves for some serious closet/bookshelf/CD case invasions ;]

*Nom Bon Choak (Khmer noodles with fish sauce, cabbages, and onions)- the tastiest, most fabulously filling breakfast ever

*The toothless grin of Sirii, my host niece

*The way students stand up and ‘Sompeah’ me each morning I walk into the classroom

*My fan. I am so thankful for my fan.

*That moment…DAILY…when I come home from school and can take off my sampot

*25 cent manicures and pedicures that have my nails look BANGING (even when the rest of me appears filthy and sweaty and seemingly unkempt)

*The week of January 10^th-Januray 16^th where I woke up cold EVERY SINGLE MORNING.

*Having my mother and sister love me enough to fly across the Pacific to visit me in Cambodia (…still bursting at the seams with gratitude guys)

Taking a few days to recharge and get healthy was nothing to be torn up about and if anything, was a simple reminder that slowing down (even in a place that seems to move at a glacial pace most of the time) is sometimes necessary.

Happy Thanksgiving xo

I love the little moments when compassion, humanity, and...

Thu, 27 Oct 2011 13:23:53 -0400

I love the little moments when compassion, humanity, and MUSIC transcend cultural differences and language barriers. On my way home from Kampong Thom town yesterday morning, what was seemingly just your typical 50km touri ride (ya know, the 20+ people/handful of babies/rice sacks/maybe a live chicken or two packed snuggly into a van whose maximum capacity shouldn’t normally exceed a mere 12 people-type) turned into one of these moments.

I was admittedly drowning out the sounds of the crying babies and the ear-piercing volume of Khmer videos with the kind of music I refer to as “for the quiet times,” trying to evoke a more peaceful, serene drive home. The woman sitting next to me (well who am I kidding, I was pretty much sitting on her lap) asked me what I was listening to. I simply replied “music from America” and proceeded to press my forehead against the window, making mental notes about what the rest of my day should look like. She inquired further, “Is it pretty?” In my head I’m thinking…”well duh, it’s India Arie, it’s life changing” but instead, I replied, “It’s most beautiful” and offered her one of my two ear phones to have a listen for herself

We sat silent and still, letting her music penetrate and push pause on this once chaotic moment, and allow equanimity to take hold and suspend us for the next 4 minutes and 58 seconds. When the song was over, this woman proceeded to ask me what the name of the song was. Realizing that I didn’t know how to say “Strength, Courage, & Wisdom” in Khmer, I hesitantly responded by telling her the name of the song was “Strong, Brave, and Clever.” She looked quizzically at me and asked to hear it one more time.

As we listened to the song (round two), this woman went on to tell me that the reason she had gone to Kampong Thom was to retrieve medicine for her leg. She lifted up her pant leg to reveal the scarred, discolored, swollen, result of having been bitten by a snake the week prior. She then went on to tell me how difficult things are now for her. One week after being bitten by a snake, her older brother, Ruun, had drowned after falling into a sitting pond of water near Wat P’sieng while fishing at dusk. Ruun was by himself and was unable to swim. The woman remained stoic in sharing this information, but stressed repeatedly how difficult things were for her right now.

I told her that when I need to be brave, I listen to this song, and encouraged her to hear it again, regardless of whether or not she understood the other words. She grabbed my arm and tucked hers beneath, and again, we listened.

We listened 6 more times :]

I got off the touri, wished the woman good health and happiness, and told her I hope she finds ‘strong’ ‘brave’ and ‘clever.’ She smiled for the first time since I jumped on the touri and said ‘thank you.’

Lady Arie has done it again

The One Where the Floods Came...

Fri, 07 Oct 2011 09:40:00 -0400

Just when I was under the impression that monsoon season was starting to wind down (and in turn, bring on the ‘cool’ season) I returned home after my week working in Takeo to find Baray essentially under water. I stepped off the bus into a pool of sitting rainwater, shuffled about to retrieve my luggage, and gazed around to see some of the most chaotic and unsettling living situations I had ever seen in my village. The homes that lined the highway each had at least 2-3 feet of water surrounding them; the shops were closed because the interiors were also receiving an inordinate amount of water; the market had been completely abandoned with the exception of a few men moving out large crates of spirit houses and incense. The movement was startling, people were clearly trying to salvage what they could by moving their belongings to the side of the road.

I was shocked. I had spoken with my sister quite a few times throughout my week in Takeo, and aside of the routine “where are you now?” and “have you eaten rice yet?” inquiries, my bong continually asked about the amount of rainfall Takeo was getting. I hadn’t given it a second thought, being that Takeo was not receiving an extravagant amount of rain, so when I did finally return home, the reasoning behind her inquisitive nature finally registered. I couldn’t help but wonder why she hadn’t mentioned the severity of what was happening at home, only to remember that, in true Khmer fashion, the likelihood of her sharing the devastation the flood was bringing was minute.

I nervously made my way east towards my house (just over 1 km away) with the help of a few students and moto drivers who assisted me with my bags. Thankfully, my house only had about a foot and a half of standing water, and from what I could see right away, no real damage had occurred (it also helps that my house sits on 3 meter-high stilts). I got upstairs to find everything in my room had been enveloped with every waterproof resource available, including; my raincoat for my book shelf, about 15 plastic bags for my desk, and even a handful of Ziploc bags individually hung over my pictures/drawings. My ma later explained to me that the roof had given in right over my door the night before, and damaged a few personal items, but it all seemed pretty trivial. I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed with gratitude that my family had taken such measures to protect my things.

It stormed relentlessly for the next three days. I remembered when I first learned that I would be moving to Cambodia, in my mind’s eye, these were the types of storms that I thought would epitomize the term “monsoon season.” Trees were crashing, the flood was rising rapidly, the livestock that would normally be grazing through the rice paddy farms were taking over the roads. I mean, Baray was literally annihilated with rain for a straight 72 hours, and the ramifications of mother nature’s fury were menacing to the tranquil atmosphere Baray usually attains.

Here are some snapshots of from my village

The local police station

One of the monks at Wat P’sieng

My ming and I on our way home from Wat Baray

Thankfully after the third day of the storm, light clouds scattered throughout the sky, offering seemingly harmless rain showers, and people began picking up where they left off to reassemble what was left of their homes, stalls, and livestock. It was also Pchum Ben’s day, one of Cambodia’s most significant holidays wherein people pay respects to their ancestors by visiting the pagodas, provide offerings of money and food to the monks, and even throw rice balls at ghosts in order to protect their families from any bad fortune. Last year, this holiday marked my welcome into my new home and was my firsthand introduction to some of the beautiful traditions within Buddhism. This year however, it marked a natural disaster that still has yet to offer any hope for what’s to come. Even today as I recount these happenings, IT JUST WON‘T STOP RAINING.

The second day following the big storm, my family asked me if I wanted to “Dah Layng Dtuk” which literally translates to ‘stroll the water.’ We walked about 100 meters past my house, my ma insisting that I document each house and in its current state along the way, and climbed aboard a small canoe. (I later learned that Baray had 100 small boats brought in from a resort in Kampong Thmar and Kampong Thom town as resources for families who had no other way to get out of their homes). Anyway, we climbed on our boat and made our way through the village. Rather than babble on about what that looked like, I wanted to share with you all a video I took from the boat ride. You can see the devastation of the flood to the homes on either side of what is now a still sitting canal of water. I also wanted to note that in the last 30 seconds of the video when my family and I pull out into an open clearing, sitting beneath what is now a decent sized lake is an enormous number of destroyed rice paddy farms. It was an astounding afternoon.

Here is the link to watch the video

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l1ALzTC_Fbo

I had been in contact with my safety and security officer during the week, providing updates regarding my whereabouts, current water-height in and around my house, accessibility to transportation, etc. Originally Peace Corps had given me the option to evacuate, but after serious consideration, I really just wanted to be with my family (especially after having spent such a large majority of my summer away from them). My house was in good shape, they all seemed in positive spirits, and it was Pchum Ben’s Day. I really couldn’t justify leaving. In addition, the next week all Cambodia PCVs were required to attend a training in Phnom Penh and attend the swearing-in ceremony of the K5 volunteers. I felt that I really needed to suck the marrow out of being at site for as long as I could.

Baray high school

Baray’s Health Center

This entry has simply been a testimony as to what I have observed/experienced over the last two weeks, and Kampong Thom is only one of the 15 affected provinces. Cambodia, on the whole, is going through the worst flood-related suffering since 2000. Over 175 lives have been lost (over half of those being children), thousands of families have had to evacuate their homes, schools and health centers have been closed, bridges washed away, and farms destroyed. Prime Minister Hun Sen has noted that the situation is under control, and that while they are not appealing for aid, they are welcoming any assistance.

My school, which was supposed to begin on the first of the month, will tentatively reopen on Tuesday, the 11^th, but that remains to be seen. There is still at least 3 feet of water engulfing the campus grounds, making it impossible to even enter the front gate. As for now, I will stay cooped up with my family, indulge myself in a slew of new books and movies, hoping for the best while waiting for the worst to pass.

“Just keep swimming.. Just keep swimming”

(My blog is fritzing out an won’t let me put this above the picture with the women exiting the Wat, but I felt it was worth leaving on here)

:::Cultural sidenote/observation:::

There have been numerous moments in the last week and a half that have been especially jaw-dropping, gut churning, and truly eye-opening. One of my favorite instances through it all was watching the women of my village honor their faith and devotion to their families/traditions by still managing to get to the Wats. Witnessing these women hike up their sampots above their knees (THIS IS SO ‘OT SOPHEA’) and trudge through the flooded roads to ensure their timely arrival at the wat was awe-inspiring. Nothing…NOTHING stood in the way of their attendance. It was magnificent, and reaffirmed my adoration for the Cambodian women in Baray

The One Where my Work Actually Mirrored my Job Title

Sat, 01 Oct 2011 04:17:21 -0400

Not that I don’t like teaching, but I have to admit, I have spent the last month and a half doing work that I am really most passionate about, and honestly, it has reignited the fire under my ass to do some kickass work this upcoming year.

It was a busy, but oh so fulfiling second half of the summer

The day after returning from Indonesia, three other Youth Development volunteers and I coordinated a leadership camp for 60 university students residing at the Harpswell Foundation, a scholarship program in Phnom Penh for some of the brightest, most driven and successful young women in Cambodia. Peace Corps has recently initiated a partnership with the program to promote opportunities for the student’s of PCV’s living in more rural provinces who may not have otherwise considered furthering their education. The camp was a four-day workshop, wherein we each conducted sessions on varying topics such as creating personal mission statements, goal planning, presenting tools for effective communication, and tips on successful resume/CV building. We stayed with the students at their dorm for the duration of the camp, eating meals with them, watching movies in the evening, and going for walks during our free time.

The workshop was a major success, and with the hopes of not sounding too cheesy (even though you all know how much I love the queso), it was such an empowering experience for both the camp participants AND us PCV’s. These girls never ceased to blow our minds, whether it was their ability to speak IMPECCABLE English, their enthusiasm to participate in all the games and activities, their attitudes towards success and what they hope to accomplish in their future, or even their unwavering support for one another. One of my fellow PCV’s Lindsay made an excellent point-if you were to round up all the highest achieving young women in America and have them live in the same quarters, attending the same university, and essentially spend every waking moment with one another, there would undoubtedly be conflict and an air of competition. But these girls made it look easy. They constantly encouraged one another, affirming how important each individual role is to the program’s harmonious atmosphere. It was inspiring to say the least.

Just to give you an idea of the absolute GEMS we were working with, here is Lina’s, one of the workshop participants, personal mission statements;

“My mission is to be a warm sister. I will be a shadow, umbrella, and light when they are under the sun, under the rain, and when they walk in the darkness”

Simply beautiful.

Harpswell Ice-breaker

The girls discussing conflict/resolution tactics

Workshops participants proudly displaying their certificates

The week following the workshop, I stayed in Phnom Penh to work alongside my program manger (also the PC Youth Development coordinator) as part of a technical exchange to complete Peace Corps Cambodia’s Youth Development Manual. PC has a ton of resources that provide information on how to effectively work with youth, but we recognized the need for a tool that pertained specifically towards engaging youth in Cambodia. It was quite the task, seeing that I had absolutely ZERO materials development experience, and unfortunately due to differing time conflicts, while there were four contributors to the manual, I was the only one available to do the final editing. After five days of staring at a computer screen (I have the utmost respect for people who do this for a living. My eyes went cross-eyed everyday by 4pm), the final product was completed!. Major kudos to PCV’s Lindsay, Jenn, and Angela who put provided their expertise and shared their insight on promoting YD in Cambodia

On September 7^th and 8^th, my program manager invited myself and two other PCV’s to speak on behalf of Peace Corps at the Cambodian National Forum for Volunteerism in Phnom Penh. Along with presenting the PC goals and mission statement, we each provided our own personal experiences serving in a big city (Angela lives in the concentrated beach town Sihanoukville), a provincial town (Hannah resides in Kampong Chnnang, a small city but with a number of resources), and a more rural village (Yay Baray!). It was a brief introduction of Peace Corps, however, following all the presentations, we broke off into smaller discussion groups and shared our views more thoroughly regarding the importance of civic and social responsibilities of youth in Cambodia.

National Cambodia Forum on Volunteerism

The Volunteer Panel

Presenting for the masses!

Angela, Hannah and I working the PC booth

And lastly! Before the summer came to an end, I headed down to Takeo for a week to work as a resource volunteer for the new trainees. They have been working their asses off to learn Khmer, understand Cambodian culture, and really sink their teeth into what PC life is like here. It was a blast visiting them all and remembering what an exciting time this really is. And the best part of it all?! I got to talk about the two things I love most about my Peace Corps experience; Youth development in Cambodia and Khmer weddings!!! Lindsay and I presented the YD manual and broke down more specifically what a YD-ers role will be during their service. Then, we got to dress up in our wedding outfits and teach the K5’s how to dance Khmer style, and of course sprinkly a little American sass to the moves

The new group has their swearing-in ceremony in a couple days, and all PCV’s in country are invited to attend the event. It’ll be a busy few days, but I’m excited to celebrate their accomplishment of training and then get back to site for school to start.

The One Where Malaysia Blew My Mind and Indonesia Kicked My Butt

Thu, 29 Sep 2011 12:51:35 -0400

I realize that ¾ of my blog entries begin with, “This entry is so overdue! But here we go anyway!” So uhhh, ya! This is nothing like that I swear, nah, I didn’t get back from Indonesia over a month ago…:]

For this blog, I just went ahead and regurgitated the notes I took along our journey, highlighting some of the great, the horrifying, and absolutely hysterical moments from our trip to Malaysia and Indonesia.

Malaysia

When we flew into Kuala Lumpur, the country’s capital, upon stepping out of our cab, my initial thought was, “Sweet baby Jesus, I could totally live here.” The city is stunning. All the streets had such character and all the buildings had such distinctly differing architectural influences. Everyone speaks English! The food was incredible! People stay out past 9pm! After our first day trolling the streets, drinking coffee at a local park, riding public transit, and going to our third mall, I was bummed we had only arranged for three days in this fantastic city.

The GREAT

1)Going for a run, getting lost, and having to make my way home is usually my first order of business when I travel somewhere new. With the exception of the rolling hills that take over the city, KL has officially been my favorite place to do this in the past year. Maybe it was the stark resemblance between KL and San Francisco that evoked some of the most serene and euphoric nostalgia, or maybe it was seeing other people out exercising as well (therefore eliminating the notion that I am just a crazy white lady running through the streets). Whatever it was, I had never been so pleased to have to linger at stoplight corners waiting for the ‘Walk’ sign to give me the go ahead

2)Being in a primarily Muslim-based city during the celebration of Ramadan. Watching the city light up and the markets start bustling at 6:30 pm, saturated with people who have been fasting for the duration of the day was fascinating. People spoke so openly about their faith, and being able to witness such a communal appreciation for tradition in a pretty diverse city was really special.

3)GOING TO SEPHORA. It didn’t even matter that I can no longer afford even nail polish remover at that place. It did however make me miss my sisters. WHAT UP MOLLY AND KATE!

4)Public transit. I forgot how much I love the monorail. We rode it aimlessly for an hour on our first day.

5)Sushi. Did you know that when you haven’t had it for a year, even BAD sushi is GOOD sushi? Sarah and I were so desperate for this tasty treat and walked aroundfor an hour and a ½ looking for one restaurant in particular, as recommended by our Lonely Planet. When we couldn’t find it, we found ourselves settling on ‘The Sushi King.’ It was in a food court at one of the malls we’d been to earlier that day, and had a conveyor belt (just to further indicate what we were dealing with). While we unanimously agreed we would never dream of consuming this at home, it reeeeally really hit the spot after our year-long sushi hiatus.

6) Our day of “Reagan-ing” (This is a 30 Rock reference wherein Alec Baldwin’s character, Jack Donaghy maintains an entire 24 hours of flawless…well, EVERYTHING.) For whatever reason, when Sarah and I were around, all the lights turned green, every stranger offered a smile, the National Mosque reopened after being closed all day for mediation, and every bargain (whether it was with a cab driver or a market lady) went in our favor. It was surreal, but we “Reagan-ed” the crap out of our second day in KL

The HORRIFYING

1) As I’m sure most rational people would consider common sense, deciding that Indian food was a good choice for a midnight snack was a horrific idea. Sarah and I, not being in our rational state of mind, didn’t give it a second thought. The next day was a little rough.

The HYSTERICAL

1) Seeing Sarah Bartel at a Coach store. (Necessary Flashback; I first met Sarah one year ago, and can recall her adoration for coach products as I witnessed her succumb to a gravitational pull into the coach store at the SFO airport. I remember thinking…“Is this girl seriously joining PC!?!”) And now, one year later, she couldn’t have proven my incredulous prejudgment more wrong. She is undoubtedly the most badass lady around (not to mention the best dressed one at that).

2)We forgot to leave the airport. I’m not kidding, we were so dazzled by all the stores and restaurants and interesting looking people, when we arrived in KL, we “hung out” at the airport for three hours. THREE HOURS. We weren’t waiting for anything, we had no real agenda, but we got so caught up in what was happening around us that we forgot we still needed to get to the city, find a hotel, and uhhh, start our vacation? Ha.

3)Free perfume samples: When you’re too cheap to check bags yet still have to adhere to airport liquid regulations…FEAR NOT! That’s what the Body Shop’s free samples are good for! Going 20 hours without a shower posed plenty of unfortunate problems for Sarah and I, so we simply relied on delicious (and free) scents like ‘Exotic Bloom’ and ‘Luscious Lavender’ to make one another’s company tolerable.

4) We missed out flight. GAAAA! We woke up the morning of our trip from KL to Medan, the capital of Sumatra, an hour late, having never changed our cell phones to the local time in Malaysia. At the realization of this, we hauled some serious ass out of our hotel, into the nearest cab, and managed to arrive at one of the two airports with MINUTES to spare. We scrambled around check-in looking frantically for our airline only to find out we were at the wrong airport. So in true Jane and Sarah fashion, we laughed until our guts hurt, bought a coffee, and meandered over to the correct airport.

Our first night in Kuala Lumpur!

Visiting the National Mosque

INDONESIA

Indonesia is drenched with provinces worth traveling to, and next time I will be sure to get down to Bali, Jakarta, and Borneo, however this trip was devoted solely to the crater lakes, orangutans, and volcanoes of Sumatra.

The GREAT

1) The music. It was just…just so GOOD. And it was so HAPPY. Everywhere we went there were small groups of both men and women hanging out, playing acoustic guitar, and wailing their brains out. It was always so raw, and fun and HONEST. I hate to say it, but I wish there was more of this in Cambodia (not that I don’t love a good dose of Khmer karaoke and cell phones that blare the latest K-Pop hit, but a few simple guitar cords can really go a long way).

2) Kayaking across and swimming in the largest crater lake in the world, Lake Toba. As you can see from my previous post, there was plenty about this trip that was both horrifying, and of course HYSTERICAL, but the greatness of this experience easily trumps the other two. It’s vastness was truly grand, and I had never visited a place so worthy of being overrun by tourism, and yet it was one of the most untouched, isolated, and peaceful places I’ve seen. Like I said, allow the pictures to simply speak for themselves. BREATHTAKING.

3) Trekking through a Sumatran Jungle and being surrounded, in the wild, by Orangutans. Thankfully we hired a man to guide us on this little sojourn, because between Sarah’s paranoia and my gung-ho attitude about…well, everything, we needed the balance that he offered, as well as someone who was familiar with monkey calls :] Absolutely stunning seeing these guys in their natural habitat

4) FOOD. It was mouth watering. All the currys, spicy veggies, the traditional Sumatran spagetti. I don’t think we consumed a meal that didn’t have us itching for more.

5)BEER. Bintang beer is undoubtedly the most delicious beer I’ve had a in year. It was the only beer available, it was typically served in tall bottles, and it was FANTASTIC.

6)Actually “vacationing.” I hadn’t realized until we arrived in Tuk-Tuk (Lake Toba) that we had spent the last 8 days being so mobile. I mean.. we were TRAVELING obviously, but had very little time to simply sit down and relax. I wouldn’t have traded any of it for the world, but I will admit that sitting by the lake for 4 days, reading, listening to music, playing endless games of scrabble, and finally devoting some time to writing felt really, really good. I used to believe I didn’t handle idle time very well, however, those 4 days of doing absolutely nothing proved me wrong.

The HORRIFYING

1) Traveling man-free. Something I will never…NEVER do again in a developing country. As a foreigner, especially a female foreigner living in Cambodia, there is a fair amount of staring, some heckling, and even an occasional cultural faux pas wherein a man may disrespect my personal space by touching/grabbing me. However, being that I can speak enough Khmer to assert myself when needs be, the men have a tendency to fall back and recognize that this kind of behavior is completely unacceptable.

(sorry for the rant…mmm back to why I will never travel with just another woman)

From the minute we stepped off the plane in Medan, Sarah and I were harassed endlessly. As I said before, as women we are not exempt from this in Cambodia, however, the level to which the men took it in Sumatra was unlike anything I had ever seen.. and it was utterly HORRIFYING. We were followed everywhere we went to a point where it was frightening, whether it was walking to restaurants, local markets, and even to our hotel. People gawked incessantly, as if they had never seen a white person before. They grabbed us aggressively, cut us off with their motos on the sidewalks (so we found ourselves walking in the streets), and were unruly in their attempt to get a word out of us. If we asked kindly to stop, they’d mock us, call us “stupid white girls” and laugh violently. Forgive me for generalizing, but not a single city or small village we went to was there a group of men who DIDN’T display this kind of behavior.

It was quite unsettling, and at certain points, really interfered with our ability to enjoy all the wonderful places we were seeing

2) Our “Poseidon adventure“. We had to take a 30 minute ferry ride across Lake Toba to another town to get to an ATM. Upon disembarking, the sky was blanketed with dark, rolling clouds that offered none other than one of the GNARLIEST (yes, I just said gnarliest) storms I’d seen in weeks. The sky was on fire, and lightening was literally shooting down from every direction, mercilessly striking the lake.

Three quarters of our boat was made out of metal. Metal deck, metal chairs, metal railings. We flipped out! We were probably 4km from either shoreline, so we ran into the boat below the deck and stood between two wooden planks, squeezing each other‘s hands until our knuckles were white, and trying to listen to our Ipods as a distraction. We began fantasizing about how long it would take people to realize we were gone, how pathetic of a way to go it REALLY WAS, and how we couldn’t help but admit that at this point, the score was Indonesia - 324798, Sarah and Jane - 0. Obviously we made it, but that 30 minutes may have well been 3 hours with how panic stricken we were.

3) Either Starbucks is lying to you, or they simply export all of their tastiest coffee beans. I couldn’t find a good up of coffee to save my life.

The HYSTERICAL

1) Please refer to my previous post.

2) Hiking the “volcano” in Berastagi. I don’t know how they managed it, but the trail up that mountain was uphill both ways. BOTH WAYS!!! Anyway, when we finally made it to the top, there was nothing but a flat slab of concrete and a view of the jungle that was completely obstructed by some unimpressive shrubbery. We hiked 4 hours for THIS?! It was unbelievable. All I wanted was see some lava and maybe a little smoke show, but all we had was a very anti-climactic, non-triumphant arrival at the peak. We trudged down the mountain…shoulders hung, tail between our legs.

3) We ate at Mcdonalds four times. Gross, I know. I can’t even remember the last time I ate there in the states, but for whatever reason, we just couldn’t stay away. Our bodies hated us.

4)Springing for the Marriot. So after having a rough week and a half of being constantly belittled by the locals, NOT seeing any lava, and staying in guesthouses that, according to Sarah, “resembled the kind of places where the SAW movies take place,” we made it our business to treat ourselves to a little luxury (this isn’t entirely true.. Sarah had to do some serious schmoozing to get me to even CONSIDER forking over that kind of cash for one night, but holy lskjfsakj… I was so happy she did). We ordered room service. We took baths! I ran on a treadmill. We watched MTV in English. We slept with COMFORTERS. Man oh man, it was definitely high maintenance of us, but I’m glad we did it.

LAKE TOBA! YOWZA!

…so much McDonalds

The Orangutan Sanctuary

Playing soccer with some local kiddies

View from the top the the volcano in Berastagi

When we arrived back in Cambodia the following morning, I couldn’t help but relish in being bombarded by all the tuk-tuk and moto drivers. I missed Cambodia! I missed speaking Khmer! I missed all the sights and smells that have become home to me! We rode back to our guesthouse and shared some laughs about all the wonderful and hilarious experiences we just had. On the whole, it was a summer

The One With The Double Rainbow

Mon, 29 Aug 2011 05:16:00 -0400

(This article was originally written for our PCV Cambodia Newsletter that comes out every few months, but Sarah and I both deemed it blog worthy as well)

The following is the account of two women’s wild Indonesian adventure. If you are seeking an opportunity to experience a Sumatra that most tourists would either willingly or unwillingly circumvent, than look no further than a trip with Halim, the sole proprietor of Sumatran Savages.

Is it your first time kayaking? “OT BAN YAHAAA!!!” our guide’s casual approach and complete disregard for one’s skill level will make you feel as though you belonged on a body of water, whether it be a placid, peaceful lake, or the raging, unruly rapids similar to those of the Colorado. All you need for this adventure is to exhibit a non-issue with personal space, a tolerance for a continuous testing of patience, and a collection of vibrant mechanisms for maintaining both your physical and mental stability.

DAY ONE

As first time visitors to the Island of Sumatra, we began this excursion by being welcomed as family into the home of Halim and his wife Nova. We were presented an array of delicious foods and a brief, yet inspiring tutorial concerning Islamic tradition during the celebration of Ramadhan. The memorable feast and warmth of the company we were in was a hugely appreciated, yet sadly erroneous introduction to the following few days.

DAY TWO

Upon waking from a peaceful slumber, we began the six hour car ride from Medan, the capital of Sumatra, to Lake Toba, the largest crater-lake in the world, stopping along the way to witness the vast glory of the lake and the surrounding mountains. This car ride presented a beautiful cross section into the country which we were about to traverse over the next three days. We slept in a beautiful purple guesthouse, covered in bougainvilleas that sat right on the shoreline of the lake. It was only after we managed to extricate ourselves from Halim’s company that we could freely commiserate our feelings regarding the road trip.

A brief overview of Halim:

Introduced as a down to earth family man, this Muslim convert of German decent with a distinct zest for living, immediately turned into a circa 1970’s hippie with a penchant for exploration, both geological and pharmaceutical. There was no silence that went unbroken by a random tangent spanning from his 20 year old lover’s exquisite legs and potentially fatal psychiatric illness to the precise calculation of every rock strata, wind speed and water depth of our environs (not forgetting to include his feelings of all these things after having consumed one or six doses of the locally grown “magic” mushrooms.) His humor, at first endearing and gut-wrenching took a sharp left turn down a plunging crevasse of certifiable lunacy. Being in his presence invigorates the senses while requiring asound foundation of patience and a well practiced ability to zone the f$ck out.

A View of Lake Toba

DAY THREE (Day one of Kayaking)

We awoke at 8am to pack our boats, where we were at the mercy of 40 locals, who quickly disembarked their touris to take pictures (via cellphone) and gawk at the foreigners.

Four hours of paddling.

Easy.

BEAUTIFUL.

We arrived in the remote village of Binagarre, and were greeted enthusiastically by the community. Upon arrival (having been previously told that we would be camping), we asked Halim where we would be setting up our tents. He responded, “Uhhh, YAAAA. Do you have a problem sleeping on a boat?” We answered no, however, without any boat in sight, we queried, “Where is the boat?” We were answered, “Uhhhh, I have no idea, YAAAAA.”

When invited into the home of one of our hosts and presented with a bowl of noodles, Halim proceeded to open his “beauty box” (a waterproof tackle box that he fancies as a caboodle), and threw everything in it into our respective bowls. This included dried onions, steel cut oats, chunks of bread, and packaged curried beef. When Sarah asked, “Do you think maybe this could be offensive?” he simply replied, “UHHH YAAA, no. This shit is just a bunch of noodles and chemicals.” And so we proceeded to eat

Alongside the shoreline

As the night wound down and people began retreating to their homes, we boarded the Floating Fuselage and adorned ourselves with all reachable textiles in order to withstand the piercing winds that mercilessly invaded the boat’s deck. Joining Halim for a beer that night (and by a beer, we mean he had six tall bottles and a fifth of Vodka), he told stories and remained comfortable and content in his khaki shorts, shawl, and headlamp. While slumbering on wooden planks later that night, Sarah heard Jane subtly remark at approximately five minute intervals, “JESUS CHRIST,” not having a will to respond, but knowing Jane has echoed her sentiments.

Our sleeping quarters…

DAY FOUR (Day two of Kayaking)
At 7:30am, we were awakened abruptly by eager boat passengers and given five minutes to get off the boat. Unfortunately (yet not surprisingly), Halim had forgotten to retrieve his camera from the Floating Fuselage, postponing our five hour open water paddling for another hour and a half. After having been on the water for two and a half hours, Halim, a man who has revisited this journey on numerous occasions, looks around and says to Jane, “YAAAA, this is pretty fucking boring ehh!?!?” Continuing on our sojourn, Sarah remarks, “I can’t figure out why I am not having any fun!?!” However, she quickly recounted Mark Twain’s adage, “Fun is something you are not obliged to do.” And so, being 9km away from either shoreline, it became readily apparent that there was no fun to be had. So for another two and a half hours of paddling against seemingly gale force winds, the bed and shower we were promised lighted the necessary fire under our lake soaked assed to get us to our next destination. We arrived at beautiful Batuk style houses, alternated taking bucket showers, and devoured authentic Sumatran spaghetti.

The open water crossing

Traditional Batuk-style homes

Day Five (Day Three of Kayaking)
“GOOOD MORNING YAAAA!!!!!!. UHHH LADIES, I THINK IT IS TIME TO DRINK A BEER!!!” Halim seemed disillusioned by our ineptitude for drinking a tall beer before 8am. We packed our belongings, took a trip to the local Batuk museum, played indigenous instruments, partook in a leisurely morning in a peaceful village surrounded by enchanting landscape and friendly open people. This was a place well worth the 18km to get there. Once we finally packed our boats and set out for our final day we were renewed by the promise that this day would be much easier than the last. This was not to be the case. As the raging winds and furious waters quickly beset those emotions into the normally optimistic and hopeful. We kayaked for two hours on glass like water, surprised that our apparent soreness did not in any way hinder our speed, and eventually came upon a delightful Indonesian restaurant for our midday repast. Halim, having consumed three big beers on his kayak, and ordering a fourth at lunch, passed out hastily on a grass mat on the floor of the restaurant. Well known to all three of us that the winds pick up drastically around 1pm, we finally decided it would be best to wake Halim up and finish the trip. It was 2:30pm.

We took off from shore, the waves only betraying that the winds would grow stronger, and as such, our paddling would have to keep pace with Mother Nature’s hideous winds. It was only an amount of time before we were masticated by a murderous rage. Jane was anthropomorphizing the water, calling it a slew of curses including, but not limited to, “b!&ch”, “a$$ho!e” “m*$%herf%$ker”, and even went so far as to curse the innocent quips of Mark Twain. Sarah was not in any way exempt from these delusional outbursts of exclamation. Including among her self-flagellating motivational thoughts writ large by verbalization, “It’s just a lake B!@tch…HANDLE IT.”

…..Sarah “handling it”

We all found ourselves grouped together once again, with Tuk-Tuk, our destination looming in sight. It was there we were promised a bed and a hot shower, with due eventuality. With his usual annoying mitigation Halim decreed it necessary to, “TAKE IT EASY, YAAAA??” for what he assumed to be the last 45 minutes of the lake. Sarah, having lost any and all inhibition, replied, “It’s not going to take 45 min. KEEP PADDLING.” If we had taken Halim’s suggestion of “TAKING IT EASY YAAA?”, Jane’s boat, having already been filled completely with water, would have turned drastically to the left, leaving her stranded in the middle of the lake. If her oars were left unattended for more than five seconds, Sarah’s boat would have also veered entirely to the left, and (not wearing her spray skirt upon Halim‘s direction), would have been entirely engulfed by waves, leaving her haplessly floating at the bottom of the briny deep with her pube shirt Jane.

Halim, hung-over and unable to recognize the feelings of urgency imparted of getting to shore, was intimidated by our speed, and unimpressed by our willingness to get to land. Once we arrived to Tuk-Tuk, we disembarked our kayaks having to scale a stone wall that was 6 feet above water. Halim said, “UHH YAAA, THIS IS PRETTY DIFFICULT YOU KNOW!? THE LAKE USED TO BE HIGHER.” After literally “spidermaning” up this wall and finding oourselves on dry land, all we really wanted was to simply sit down for 5 seconds and do a whirling high-five. Halim would not have it, knowing that only a few more flights of stairs offered the promise of a few more beers.

We retreated to our rooms, took the hottest showers we could possibly imagine, ate pizza, and went to bed, completely and intentionally circumventing the company of Halim for the rest of the night. To our delight, as we passed Halim’s room, his open window and shining light allowed us a glimpse into how his night had unfolded; face down, awash in the soporific effects of mushrooms and vokda.

The stunning Romlan Guesthouse

Around 5am the following morning Halim made his wakefulness known by yammering on the phone, knocking on doors, and consuming ALL of what remained of our provisions. He left as seamlessly as he arrived, and suddenly, we were free. After taking the most perfect, well-deserved showers ever, we vacated to our balcony to find a double rainbow, drenched in a sun shower, illuminating the lake before us.

(look closely.. there’s two alright ;])

Should this trip strike a chord of interest, consider the following essentials..
-Sunscreen
-Water
-An insatiable will to live
-Hat.

Other titles considered for this entry;
-The Devil does not wear a life vest
-Eat Shit and Die
-The unbearable pursuit of a German in a Kayak
-Is there a bathroom?

The beautiful children of Binagarre Village

The One Where The Withdrawl Set In

Sun, 31 Jul 2011 04:56:00 -0400

So in light of seeing our one year mark come and go last week, I started considering some of the things I miss about good ol America. These last 365 days have been extremely rewarding, and there have been a NUMBER of things I have learned to live comfortably without, but I can’t lie, it’ll be nice to revisit the following in just one.short.year :]

*Strawberries

*Driving

*Live music

*Mountains

*Playing soccer …competitively

*Subway, Mr pickles, Java Beach…or just any place that makes a decent sandwich

*Snowboarding. Snow. Cold weather

*Popcorn

*Big, soft, comfy sofas and chairs

*Cereal

*Stella, IPA, Blue Moon, and pretty much any beer that ISN’T Angkor

*BEING TAN

*Skating

*My bed. Having a comforter. Having a MATTRESS

*Wearing hoodies

*Sushi.Sushi.SUSHI

*Washing Machines

*Carpets and rugs

*Coffee that isn’t served with a ratio of ¾ milk and ice to ¼ actual coffee

*Diet Dr Pepper

*Good wine

*California Burritos

…any kind of burritos

*In & out

*Anonymity

*Saying “bless you” when someone sneezes

…among a SLEW of other manners

*Chivalry

*Fixed prices

*Hot showers

*Big dogs

….Friendly dogs

……..Dogs I actually want to pet rather than have the insatiable urge to strike in the face

*Diversity

*Food with a little crunch.. Or any texture other than soft/mushy

*Not being scared that any time I have a stomach ache that I could very likely have a parasite

*Expressing emotions other than “happy happy”

*Staying up past 9 without being questioned about my health

*Fro Yo

*ADRENALINE RUSHES

*Cheeeeeese

Does it say something about me that apretty high number of the items on my list are food?! ;]

*Quick sidenote.. There are a handful of things on this list that I can get in country, but living on a volunteer’s budget doesn’t always allow for that to happen. AAAAND so… we cope accordingly bahaha.

So tomorrow morning at 8:30, I am hopping a plane to Kuala Lumpur Malaysia for a few days, and then continuing on to Sumatra, Indonesia with the lovely Sarah Bartel. We are SO ECSTATIC about the adventures that await us.. tucked away in the more southern nooks of Southeast Asia. WEEW!!! Updates to come soon :]

The One Where the Campbells Came to Cambo

Tue, 26 Jul 2011 02:13:00 -0400

It’s been an insane month and a half

During the second week of June, I was fortunate enough to have my mother and sister come visit me in Cambodia, and it was nothing short of spectacular. It had been 11 months since I had last seen them, and the reunification was more beautiful that I could have ever hoped for! We spent their first three days in country trolling the streets of Phnom Penh just drinking in the sights and smells (both good and bad), visiting markets, touring the genocide museum, riding tuk tuks, and of course, recuperating from the inevitable jet lag. I feel confident sharing that both my mom and molly experienced a serious case of culture shock, but managed it graciously and sensitively.

Phnom Penh

After acclimating to heat, the time change, and the drastic differences in social constructs (or as much as three days would allow for such adjusting hahaha), we traveled to my home in Baray, Kampong Thom where I was able to show my family what everyday life is like for me in Peace Corps. Upon arriving, my two families came together in quite the storybook fashion. My host parents and siblings all greeted my family with a traditional “Joom Reap Sua,” and then quickly resorted to all sorts of hugging/handshakes, laughter, awkward (yet endearing) hand gestures, and were told (in true Khmer fashion), to go lay in a hammock and eat some fruit. The initial exhaustion that came from being the back and forth translator quickly subsided once we all sat down for our first meal together and could simply enjoy the company of one another. My mom and sister had done some serious shopping prior to coming, and presented my Cambodian family with a slew of gifts to show their appreciation for taking such good care of me. It was incredible to see such gratitude exude from my sisters and brother as they excitedly shuffled through their new sunglasses, pens, jackets, shoes, and purses. Just a small token of cross-cultural love from one family to another.

We spent the following three days doing typical village-life things, from visiting my school and meeting my colleagues, going to the market and drinking that good ol artery-clogging ice coffee (so delicious nonetheless), doing laundry by hand and showering by bucket, to house-hopping to various friend’s homes and eating our weight’s worth in rice, fish soup, fried veggies, and a variety of meats. We were pretty much pushing maximum capacity with all the food we were consuming, and were uncomfortably full for the three days we were at my home. On our final night in Baray, my host family went above and beyond by throwing a party for their visitors. Now, this is no small feat for the typical rural Khmer family, and they were so honored to host my American family that they arranged for a long night of eating fantastic, traditional dishes, providing karaoke (speakers, tv‘s and all), and of course, DANCING in a circle around a table. It was perfect, from the food, to the entertainment, to the company of my most favorite people, both Khmer and American

I now have to take a moment to give major kudos to both my mom and Molly. In sharing our itinerary with some of my other PC friends, there was a unanimous opinion that three days at my site would jus be too long, too arduous. On the contrary… my mom and sister made it look pretty damn easy. Aside from actually using toilette paper, they seemed to integrate almost immediately! They ate all the food, slept on mattresses on the floor beneath mosquito nets, did the laundry/shower bit without any complaints, and even managed to shit in a hole like it was no big thing :]. My mom, bless her heart, even had the lovely pleasure of being woken up by a bird crapping on her face one morning, only later that day to find a baby peeing in her lap. And what did she do?! SHE LAUGHED ABOUT IT, saying, “What the hell? It’ll make for a good story later.“ Her go-with-the-flow mentality reminded me of why I respect her so much, as well as reinforced why there are more days than not that this lifestyle hardly seems like a challenge. I almost feel indebted to both of their efforts to make the most out of this piece of their trip. SUCH TROOPERS.

*Arrving in Baray.. Marveling over the astounding effort my Host Family put in to making them feel comfortable and at home

What would a trip to Cambo be without a visit to the world renowned Angkor Wat?! We traveled the three hours north to Siem Reap (probably my favorite city in country), and played tourist for a solid three days. I was pretty pumped myself, seeing as I had never actually toured the temple itself, only literally RAN AROUND it. The three of us rented bikes and just had the best time gallivanting around the small town, touring the temples, being camera happy, getting caught in some gnarly rainstorms, and indulging in delicious foods. Aside from appreciating being exposed to my everyday life at site, both my mom and Molly agreed that Siem Reap was their favorite part of Cambodia. As much as it thrived culturally, its compact structure and easy access to pretty much…everything, made it most enjoyable.

After our third day in Siem Reap, we hopped on a plane to Bangkok Thailand! Aaaand I was then introduced to a little culture shock of my own. Freeways!? Public Transit?! Crosswalks?! STREETLIGHTS THAT AREN’T MERE SUGGESTIONS?!?! It was bananas. There were 7-11’s, Subways, bougsie hotels, pizza huts, and malls on every damn corner. We didn’t arrive til about 9:30 at night, but seeing as it was my first night in a big city in about a year, I deemed it necessary to stay out and meander the town. I didn’t come across anything that really blew my mind (aside from what was already noted above), but was able to enjoy the enthrallment of standing beneath tall buildings, seeing real cabs with functioning meters cruise by, and stumble upon a night market that was BUSTLING past 8 or 9 at night.

From Bangkok, we took an overnight bus to the second most northwestern province, Chiang Mai, where we got out of the big city scene and really delved into more adventurous fun-tivities :]. We stayed at a quaint little guesthouse with some of the most hospitable and accommodating women I have met on this side of the world, went to museums, trekked through the jungle, zip-lined through rainforests, climbed a waterfall, and even rode elephants. It was BREATHTAKING. Here’s a few shots from our visit to Chiang Mai

We returned to Bangkok a few days later with enough time to visit the Royal Palace, take a river cruise, and eat enough Subway to hold me over for the next year :]

The Royal Palace in Bangkok

Elephant riding in Chiang Mai

Ziplining through the jungle

We flew back to Cambodia the following afternoon just in time to celebrate my GOLDEN BIRTHDAY with my dearest friends. I can’t lie.. It felt really, really good coming back to this little pocket in southeast Asia and be able to speak the language and feel surrounded by the anomalies that have become home to me. I missed that Cambodian charm after a mere 6 days of being away.

Following the birthday bash in Phnom Penh and saying goodbye to my family, I returned to Kampong Thom for a couple days to do my laundry, repack, and turn right back around for the 4^th of July celebration at the U.S. Embassy in the capital. Myself and four other PCV’s were invited to sing the American National Anthem for both the formal event on the Friday prior, as well as the casual party on the following Sunday. We got to hang out, drink American beer, and celebrate our roles as volunteers in the Bode. SO MUCH FUN, great music, and really awesome people all around.

*The American/Cambodian National Anthem singers

After the 4^th of July parties, I traveled south to the province of Takeo to spend time with my dear friend Ryan before he wrapped up his service and went home to America. It was so moving being part of all his going away festivities and seeing the beautiful impact he had on the lives of his family, students, counterparts, and friends. I just considered myself lucky to have been a part of it.

The next week I ended up making my way over to Takeo town for th.e Training of Trainers Conference coordinated by Peace Corps to prepare the new Language/Cross-Cultural facilitators for what to expect in the next couple months. In just a matter of days, roughly 60 new trainees will be arriving in country to begin this crazy Cambodia experience for themselves! So anyway, myself and a few other PCV’s were invited to help with the facilitation of the conference, offer helpful methods to effectively teach Americans the Khmer language, and share our own personal experiences about coming to live in Cambodia for the first time. It ended up being a great week! The LCF”s were all so friendly and open to all sorts of helpful suggestions on how to make the newcomers feel at ease upon arrival and throughout their training experience.

AND SO! My next couple weeks are packed with meetings for upcoming projects, developing a manual for working with youth in Cambodia, and of course, heading to the capital to greet the K5’s. I will then head down to Malaysia and Indonesia with my bestie Sarah for a full two weeks of kayaking, volcano trekking, hanging out at the Orangutan Sancutary, and hopefully drinking some of that authentic Sumatra coffee.

Insane in the best way imaginable, however, this week is the first week I have been somewhat stationary in the last 5 weeks, so I figured this would be the most appropriate time to recap on my summer thus far!

The one where I was so glad I stayed

Sat, 04 Jun 2011 11:49:12 -0400

This week has been one of my busiest weeks at site yet. While wrapping up my last week at school (WOO!), I simultaneously planned to continue working on our school’s new garden, and attempted to complete the ever so popular Peace Corps “World Map Project.” Having worked a solid 8+ hours a day (yes I know, this doesn’t sound like much, but if you’ve worked 5 hours in a day in Cambodia, you can consider it a productive one) for the last 6 days, both in the classroom and out in the blistering sun rallying students, hoeing soil, and painting a wall, I felt the insatiable urge to decompress. Usually, that would entail a trip to my provincial town, a bus ride to the capital, or even just a bike ride down to one of my fellow PCV’s houses to drink a beer and talk about anything BUT work. But I have to admit, things have been going really, really well for me at site. Ideas that I’ve manifested are starting to materialize, I have a solid work/social life/exercise routine intact, and most importantly, I feel at ease calling this place “home.” And so, with the fear of potentially disrupting the momentum of all these wonderful happenings and feelings of contentment, I chose to stick out these last two days (before my actual vacation began) and finish what I had already started.

And I am so glad I decided to stay. Today was a big day in the Than Family.

As is the same back at home, most days are pretty unremarkable. Not necessarily in a “going through the motions” sort of way, more so, often life can simply come down to fulfilling the wants and needs of our day to day systems, ensuring that we sustain ourselves, the ones we love, and hopefully enjoy time spent along the way. We don’t experience the phenomenal everyday.

However tonight, something remarkable happened. Something beautiful.

As my family and I wrapped up our evening meal and were sprawled out lazily in front of the television drowning ourselves in Cambodian Improv and stand-up comedy (my host fam’s FAVORITE), there was an abrupt knock on the door. Mind you, it was around 8:30pm at this point, and in the 8 months I have lived in this house, never once have we received a late-night visitor (with the exceptions of dinner parties/Khmer New Year etc.)…especially on a school night! :] My mom started nervously shuffling around and my dad held a genuine concern in his disposition as he ordered my sister to turn off the TV and my brother turn on all the lights. He approached the door incredulously and we all sat silent and still. When the door was opened, there was a piercing scream and a solid thirty second embrace between my father and a woman I had never seen before in my life. The initial excitement was then amplified as my mother rose and started alternating between grabbing her hair and holding her hands to her heart, assuming these actions to be out of sheer disbelief. My siblings and I followed, jumping to our feet and immediately ‘joom reap sua-ing’ this woman who still had yet to be introduced. (Quick side note; the most alarming facet of this whole interaction STILL is the fact that my father HUGGED this woman. I have never seen that kind of affection between any Khmer individuals; man to man, woman to woman, man to woman. I mean this was…this was a BEAR HUG).

Anyway! As the conversation progressed between my father and this woman (10 minutes later, learned her name was Kinnal), I came to understand the power behind this moment. My father and Kinnal were dear friends as children, both grew up in Kampong Thom, and spent their school days, family gatherings, etc, very close to one another. During the Khmer Rouge (and in the midst of their adolescence), the two were separated when Kinnal’s family fled to Thailand where they remained at a refugee camp for a little over three years. My host father stayed in Kampong Thom with his family, working tirelessly under the demands and enforcements of the Cambodian military, and literally, fighting to stay alive every single day. He met my mother when he was 17 (my mom 16), and while no formal wedding actually ensued, the two did conceive a child within the first year of their relationship. Kinnal met her now husband while living in Thailand, where she has resided since she left Cambodia back in the late 70’s.

My father and Kinnal had not seen one another since she left for Thailand 30+ years ago.

As I sat there, catching bits and pieces of this conversation, attempting to wrap my brain around the astounding reunion that was taking place before my eyes, I became so overwhelmed by the intensity, the honesty, and the genuine JOY that was exuding from my father’s face. It was without question the happiest I had ever seen him, and while my family later had to slowly break down the event that just transpired, there wasn’t much that could be lost in translation as I witnessed My father and Kinnal exchanging that kind of innocent, childhood-like enthusiasm. “I’m sitting amongst Cambodian Genocide survivors.” I couldn’t stop repeating it to myself. “And they’re BEAMING.”

As I was saying…most days can be unremarkable. But occasionally, either looking for it or not, you can get the wind knocked out of you. Today it was the miraculous blow of seeing two holocaust survivors reconcile a 30 year absence with a simple late night knock on the door.

I’m so glad I stayed home tonight.

The one where we biked across Cambodia

Sun, 08 May 2011 06:01:00 -0400

…or as I like to refer to it, ‘The Bike Across the Bode.’

A personal commitment I made to myself before joining the Peace Corps was to remain in Cambodia for my first year rather than travel outside of the country in order to fully devote myself to my host family, the new culture, and my purpose here. I also should note that this notion was inspired by my dear friend Charles who is serving in the Jesuit Volunteer Corps in Micronesia for two years (we left within 3 weeks of each other), and is literally not ALLOWED to leave his tiny island for the full duration of his service. Peace Corps doesn’t enforce the same stipulation, however, I must say, I remember being distinctly moved when Charles shared the ins and outs of his program’s expectations and felt that my personal philosophy aligned more with that mission. And so, I am imploring it here :]

*Quick Disclaimer* My intention is to not come off ‘Holier than thou.’ I have every desire of gallivanting around South East Asia myself at some point and think living in this part of the world is an amazing opportunity to travel and see numerous beautiful, thriving cultures. I am just sharing my perspective based upon the philosophies I shaped before arriving and how they have developed over the time I have been here.

Anyway…

How the plan evolved.

I had been entertaining the idea of traveling to pieces of Cambodia that I had yet to see (because you know, we had the entire month of April off due to Khmer NY), hopefully see some other Volunteer’s sites in the process, and honestly, have some quality ‘me time.’ I had recently grown fond of biking as a serious hobby, and thought, “Well shit, what better way to see the country than to bike my ass through it!?” While at an in-service training conference in Phnom Penh, I was expressing these seemingly crazy thoughts to my good friend Bryan who, like me, also wanted to stay in country for April. Thinking about it now, I shouldn’t have been surprised that he loved the biking idea, and immediately jumped on board. This in turn lit a fire under my ass and so, the plan began to materialize.

Two months later, one day following the Khmer New Year, there we were, crouched over a map in a tiny guesthouse in the most Northwest province, Banteay Mean Chey mapping our route for the next 6 days.

538km, 7 provinces, and two crazy barangs on bikes.

The Route.

I am pleased to share…WE MADE IT! And, impressively enough, (with the exception of two flat tires) there were no hiccups in the whole trip! Our first day was undoubtedly our easiest, biking from Banteay Mean Chey to Battambang town…a measly 67km :]. We visited some other PCV’s, had a delicious lunch at my program manager’s house, Sangkim, who was home for the New Year, and had the pleasure of meeting his family and learning about his experiences living in Battambang. The next day, we headed to Pursat Province, which, was without question our most difficult day. 109km, no trees to provide shade, and the disruption of the flats. Once we made it to town and decompressed for a couple hours, we were able to enjoy the company of another PCV, eat amazing Khmer food, play chess, and drink (according to Bryan and Christian) the BEST iced coffee in Cambodia (I said I kindly disagreed, but my opinion apparently was a moot point).

The following morning, we biked to Bryan’s home just 33km south of the provincial town in Pursat and visited with his family and co teacher (they were amazingly kind and welcoming), ate some of the most delicious pork and rice I had ever eaten, and took off towards Kampong Chnnang. Four hours later we arrived to town, ate about 8 servings of yogurt and Muesli, took HOT SHOWERS, and passed out. This day presented the most difficult terrain, hills every hour, and was exceptionally toasty. Between the two of us, we brought sweating to a whole new level.

The next day, after arriving in Phnom Penh we met up with a few other volunteers who had just returned from vacation and indulged ourselves in burgers and ice cream. Nothing short of splendid I tell you. We also met up with Bryan, a PCV from Kampong Speu, who jumped on the bandwagon for the last two days of the trip (so yes, just to clarify, it was me, and two BRYAN’s.)

Getting out of Phnom Penh was a complete chaotic mess. The city was bustling at 6am, drivers executing some of the most dangerous, careless acts behind the wheel, swerving everywhere, cutting people off, honking…it was madness. I was just thankful we made it out without getting hurt. The ride to Takeo was just under 85km, relatively smooth and flat, and for this, I was ecstatic. I hadn’t really been too sore the majority of the trip (with the exception of my butt being tired), but by day five I was definitely just feeling the wear and tear of pushing pedals for four hours a day. Arriving in Takeo, the Bryan’s and I took it upon ourselves to sit in the town’s Tela for a couple hours, refueling and taking advantage of free air conditioning.

On our last day, we made our way out of Takeo, and headed for Kampot to pick up another PCV, Billy, who also joined us for the tail end of the trip (the four of us completed training together, so it was nice to come together and share a pretty badass moment). Kampot is stunning…just absolutely breathtakingly beautiful. It’s as if the entire province is exempt from the effects of hot season and having all the fields and mountains turn brown from the heat. It was so GREEN and lush and there were trees and mountains everywhere. GAAAA! Safe to say, the last day was my favorite, due obviously to the fact that is was the last day, but more importantly, because it provided the most lovely scenery. The company was amazing, and it felt almost triumphant coming up upon the beach in Kep.

We spent the following four days in Kep, swimming in the ocean, eating delicious seafood, getting caught in a few storms, and simply enjoying the company of good friends. 15 other PCV’s came down and met us to celebrate our friend Garrett’s birthday and relish in the sweetness of the coast.

Bryan and I on Day

A Pursat Sunset

Kampot

Billy, Bryan 1 and Bryan 2

Approaching Kep Beach..such a stellar moment

My beautiful friends

Aaaaand now it’s back to the grind

Perfect April excursion? CHECK!　

The one with "hope," the "bee," and another robbery

Wed, 13 Apr 2011 04:48:00 -0400

So since my last post (which was months ago..SORRY!) I have;

-Caved on my whole ‘not having internet at site’ bit and am now connected to the rest of the world! Hooray! (thanks again Leslie!)

-Wrapped up the first couple semesters at school while simultaneously completing some kick ass projects (details to come later)

-Gotten robbed…again.

-Harvested my own rice!!!

-Worn a hoodie, slept with blankets, and woke up shivering on countless mornings. What kind of hot season IS THIS?!?

-Read 9 books and completed watching the entire ‘Ally Mcbeal’ series

-Attended 14 Khmer weddings (among a slew of other house parties and Wat ceremonies)

-Fractured my knee (a direct result of the robbing)

-Had my first hot shower in 5 months

-Seen FRESH WATER DOLPHINS in the beautiful Kratie Province

-Had my first visitor from home (well not exactly, she WAS working in South Korea…what up Erika Ulf elder!)

Let me break down how I started 2011. It all began NYE, when I got robbed…again. *sigh* only this time, there was no chuckle worthy tale to accompany this incident, rather, to put it simply, I just screwed up. There I was trolling the streets of Phnom Penh with a few dear friends of mine, speaking candidly of our plans for the evening and just relishing in all the American normalcy’s that being in the capital brings, when a two guys on a moto (who were undoubtedly trailing us for a few minutes probably laughing to themselves at my blatant absent mindedness) pulled up next to the tuk tuk we were riding and swooped my purse right out of my lap. I then decide to employ some of my finer instincts and decide it’s a BRILLIANT idea to JUMP OUT of our moving vehicle with the delusional notion that I might catch these jerks and retrieve my bag (hey, I did it before right?!) FALSE. I face plant on the asphalt , fracturing the Tibial Tuberosity of my left knee, lifting my head just in time to see the guys turn the corner, and saying goodbye to the following items forever; my wallet, glasses, ipod, and camera. Walking back to the hotel, (head hung, tail between my legs) it’s like I could hear that melancholy Charlie Brown piano music playing overhead. I was so angry, and worst of all, so disappointed in myself. Had I not traveled down this road before? I headed to Peace Corps Headquarters in order to take care of logistical matters and filling out an incident report. Let me tell you, the ego has a difficult time answering the “What could you have done differently” question for the SECOND time.

Thankfully, my support system, both friends and the Peace Corps Staff, who were present for the incident and thereafter, instantly restored my faith in people and epitomized the importance of having someone to lean on. Just a quick shout out to Sarah, Garrett, Hannah, Christian, and Ryan for helping me crawl out of my dark hole and giving me something to smile about as we rang in the New Year. Their presence, insight, positivity and kindness completely flipped my troubled spirit upside down and allowed for me to enjoy the rest of my vacation. Not to mention Hannah and Garrett went out and bought me a new purse, wallet, sunglasses, memory card, and soothing tea so I wasn’t gallivanting around the city empty-handed. May I remind you…we are on a volunteer’s budget?! Their generosity moved and shook me right out of my pathetic wallowing. Thank you again loves<3

So I spent the following week in the city, getting x-rays on my knees, recuperating (both my body and mind), and having some much needed ‘Jane time.’ Unfortunately, I was told there was very little I could do to help accelerate the healing of my knee other than simply STAYING OFF IT. This meant no biking, running, and lessening the amount of standing in the classroom. This put a serious hindrance on my teaching performance, presence in my community, and (as trivial as it may sound) staying FIT. I became one with my hammock every afternoon, felt as lazy and large as Jabba the Hutt, and watched my family scramble around our house catering to my every need. It was without a doubt my darkest few weeks of service to date, primarily due to a lack pf productivity and feeling pretty much useless!

Come February, I was able to throw myself into work and really get back in touch with my purpose here. Teaching picked up again, I had the opportunity to work afternoons at a Private English school in a neighboring village, continue my night classes, and slowly get back into the swing of things. A few other PCV’s and I collaborated on a couple projects together, and overall, my days became remarkably fulfilling again.

Kampong Thom and Siem Reap conducted a traveling art show, giving the students the opportunity to explore their creative sides (and for many, unveil creativity within them in the first place). The theme was “Hope,” eight schools, roughly 30 participants at each school, and the top three pieces were selected in each district to travel to each participating school and be displayed for the student body. The students voted on their favorite pieces, and the top three winners were then asked to travel to Siem Reap for a workshop hosted by a Cambodian Artist. The project was a major success! Here is some of the outstanding work created by the students (grades 7-12)

In March, Kampong Thom hosted their first annual Spelling Bee competition. Each school held their own Bee, and the top three winners headed to the Provincial town to compete against the other students. One of my 12^th graders, Vannak, took first place. His English would dazzle you! Here are some photos :]

On March 1^st, Peace Corps celebrated their 50^th birthday, so to promote their 50 years of international service, the organization donated $50 to participating volunteers to conduct a “Day of Service” within one’s community. Such an exciting time to be part of the Peace Corps! I spoke with my counterpart and school director, and we decided to build a garden at my school! $50, 50 participants, and a day of enhancing the school’s atmosphere. It was so rewarding to see everyone working their tails off through the excruciating afternoon heat.

Coming up!

So tomorrow is the beginning of the Khmer New Year! I honestly have very little idea of what exactly is in store, however I do know there will be lots of parties, lots of eating, and of course, lots of dancing. I will undoubtedly provide an update (sooner than later…PROMISE!) about the crazy shenanigans that are about to ensue.

On Sunday, I will begin my journey to bike across Cambodia. 5 days, 7 provinces, and approximately 575 kilometers. Should be a doozy, but I’m ready for an adventure!

Cheers ;]

The one where the glass always seems half full

Thu, 03 Mar 2011 11:50:00 -0500

Things that are really working for me so far in THE BODE..

1) Being vertically challenged: Everyone else is too. I finally know how nice it is to LITERALLY see eye to eye with everyone I meet. So while I still can’t reach anything off the top shelf…my funsize stature is actually working as an advantage!

2) Nationwide nap time: So from about 12:30-2pm each day, things in Cambodia slow down to a leisure, borderline glacial pace. People retreat into their homes, work stalls, and shaded huts in order to escape the swelter shelter that the mid-day sun brings, and this in turn brings about nap time-a glorious opportunity to sprawl out for a good 30 minutes to an hour just to decompress. The best part? Not a damn person questions these seemingly bizarre behaviors, because they’re all unwinding themselves. It’s delicious. I haven’t had designated nap time since two-a-days in preseason training for soccer at SFSU…

3) 25 cent Manicures: The two times I ever got a manicure in the states were for my senior prom in high school and the Brandrea wedding in 2008. Now in Cambodia, there’s something mildly enticing about paying a quarter to receive a little pampering at the end of the week. Mind you, these aren’t professionals providing some legitimate salon service, and each time I’ve ventured to that little shack that sits right on highway 6, I’ve walked away with my cuticles bleeding and lime juice pulp still stuck between my fingers, but hey, when you think about serving in a third world country, the idea of getting your nails done seems pretty farfetched. So while my feet may be filthy from walking/biking on the dirt roads, my hair slicked back from the perma-sweat that any hat or helmet only dreadfully enhances, and my clothes drenched as a result of the outrageously high humidity, my nails are lookin’ SLAMMIN.

4) Strangers who smile: Enough said. And EVERYONE does it. This simple gesture has worked wonders in helping me maintain positivity on a day to day basis. If I feel edgy or frustrated or down, I can just take a stroll through my village and be greeted warmly by smiles and friendly waves. Imagine some 50’s ‘Leave it to Beaver’ type sitcom… just factor in some unpaved roads and Khmer folk…

5) Punctuality (well, lack thereof): I’m not proud to admit that punctuality has never been one of my stronger suits, and most who know me well enough to have spent time waiting for me here or there are aware that in my mind, there REALLY is no difference between 3:00 and 3:10. Cambodia and I have the same mindset :] Buses that are scheduled to leave at 3:45 usually take off around 4, school that is supposed to start at 7 typically gets going around 7:20, and yah, when people say, “Hey! I would like to invite you to a party at my house. We start at 5.” What they are REALLY saying is that people will begin arriving around 7:30. I have to be honest, to all my friends whom I have royally pissed off and all the work managers whom I’ve continuously apologized to, I feel as though I finally found a place where my lackadaisical mentality about time is accepted. (I know I’m supposed to grow as an individual in more productive ways rather than embrace my faults but hey, I’m just playing the cards I’m dealt hahaha).

6) Nicknames: A professor I had in college once said, “I don’t believe in the excuse, ‘I’m not good with names.’ If you don’t remember someone’s name, it means you weren’t listening hard enough.” Now I found this to be inspiring, and since have made it a point to remember someone’s name upon meeting them for the first time. In Cambodia however, I shamefully admit that remembering the names of the people I meet has been a lost cause from day one. THEY ALL SOUND SO SIMILAR! And so nicknames like ‘cheeky’ and ‘chachi’ have been my saving grace in allowing me to differentiate student’s whose given names are Serey Chan and Serey Chaan. Plus, most of my students are surprisingly enthusiastic about nixing their Khmer names when I come around anyway, so really it’s a win-win.

The one with our first "Holiday in Cambodia"

Thu, 03 Mar 2011 11:32:00 -0500

(and yes.. that was a Dead Kennedy’s reference.)

November turned into being a very celebratory month, and between the amount of Khmer Holidays, parties, and a very memorable first wedding experience, I was finding myself to be exhausted from the constant dressing up, dancing, and EXCESSIVE rice eating. My first weekend was spent with my family up in the provincial town because my cousin was getting married. I will do my best to give justice to the Khmer wedding experience.

The morning of, my family and I awoke promptly at 5am and began frantically running around preparing ourselves for the day. As women, we painted our faces with ghostly white foundation and Easter bunny pink eye shadow, teezed our hair to its most voluminous point, and squeezed ourselves into our first of two wedding outfits . The men woke up 10 minutes before we had to leave and threw on a collared t-shirt and some slacks. At 6am, we met with the rest of the masses (850 people to be exact) to line up outside the wedding venue and prepare for the procession. For the amount of preparation that took place prior to actually ATTENDING the ceremony, you’d have thought we were in for a pretty long day. However, once we took our seats inside and welcomed the couple-to-be with applause, everyone rushed manically to the tables and began to eat. Now when I say eat, I mean INHALE. Within MOMENTS of taking our places at the table, the food that had been beautifully arranged before us was consumed in no more than 10 minutes. Meanwhile, the food that wasn’t being shoveled in our faces, was being hoarded in the women’s bags as if preparing for the apocalypse. I witnessed countless women, refined and polished as ever, stuffing entire bottles of Johnny Walker whiskey, packages of potato chip-like snacks, and whole pieces of fruit in their purses until each tote was at its maximum capacity. This behavior was carried out in the most conspicuous manner imaginable, and for a moment, I found myself admiring their sheer blunt aggressiveness.

After the brief morning meal and celebration, there was about an eight hour break in the day that allowed people time to socialize, change wedding outfits, and of course, take a nap. That night we proceeded to dance our tails off to the delicious tunes of traditional Khmer music and selective Pitbull and Lady Gaga tracks. The majority of men were unreasonably intoxicated and women (whose chatter challenged the volume of the music-which is pretty impressive) engaged in another round of treat collecting and lots and LOTS of picture taking.

It was without a doubt..the PERFECT first wedding experience. In the last three months, I have attended eight weddings, and have determined these festivities to be my favorite Cambodian activity.

My bong and I before the festivities begin; The morning precession; Post wedding exhaustion with My maa, aunt, and sister!

The next few weekends were spent “Wat hopping,” as in, Kimheng and I would gallivant all over Baray, visiting at least three Pagodas a day/night hanging out with the monks, paying our respects to Buddha, dancing with a bunch of students, throwing rice/lighting incense, and offering fruit to deceased ancestors.. Exhausting, yes, but these days were some of the more culturally enlightening experiences I’ve been fortunate enough to be a part of, and allowed me to really feel accepted within my community.

December

I spent my first weekend of the month in Siem Reap to run in the 15^th Annual Angkor Wat Half Marathon. Siem Reap was fabulous, and it was so flooded with tourists that for a brief moment, I actually felt as though I had stepped outside of Cambodia. Initially, I welcomed the anonymity and felt refreshed knowing that I wasn’t going to spend an inordinate amount of time haggling tuk tuk drivers and being harassed solely based on my white skin. I was a dime a dozen and it felt GOOD.. The race itself went great! I had spent the few weeks prior actively training and preparing my body for exerting the amount of energy it took for me to run the full 13 miles, and I am pleased to share that my goal of running the whole race within 2 hours was accomplished! Aaaand with that said, I’m fairly certain that I will never be running that far again…ever. Haha. It took me about to week to recover, and each time I explained to my family and colleagues what I had done, they all just called me ‘ch’gooit’ (crazy) and suggested maybe I should just run my way across Cambodia.

My lovely support system (and very dear friends) Maddy and Kaitlin; All the PCV’s who rocked the 1/2 marathon/5km races!

Christmas was AMAZING. A lot of people questioned whether or not this would be a difficult time being away from home and missing the holiday hoopla with my family and friends back in America. Now, of course it goes without saying how much I adore and miss all my loved ones at home, and of course I feel so grateful that I have people in my life that I truly feel a void having not seen for six months. And yes, that void was amplified during the holiday season. However, being that it was my first Christmas away from home, I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect celebration. A group of 20 PCV’s all headed to the coast to a sleepy little town called Koh Kong (this is also where my best friend Sarah calls home). We spent the weekend indulging ourselves in delicious Western food, swimming in a CHLORNATED POOL, playing American games and watching National Lampoons Christmas Vacation. On Christmas Day, we took a two hour boat ride out to a desolate island (ya know, the white sandy beach, crystal blue/turquoise water, leaning palm trees, type) and spent the entire day meandering around this tiny little destination spot, playing football, taking shots of Johnnie Walker out of sea shells (yes, that is ridiculous as it sounds), and we even managed to sing a few Christmas carols. While of course I was missing my mom’s Christmas breakfast, Ziggy dressed up in her Santa outfit and oh yah…my ONE-SIES, all in all, it was truly a beautiful holiday.

My girls and I on the dock; Koh Kong island..breathtaking!; Group shot..K-4’s YA!

The one where I was "locked down"

Thu, 03 Mar 2011 10:38:00 -0500

So I “survived” Lockdown (a PCV’s first three months of service where in one cannot leave their province) and I am happy to report that I have maintained genuine contentment with my site placement and can attest to this whole mid-west thing really working out for the best. Who knew the vast, seemingly endless rice fields and mountain-less plains could provide such serenity and equanimity? My family has come to treat me as one of their own, my mom incessantly referring to me as ‘goan’ (child) and my siblings calling me ‘bong ’ (older sister). For a while I actually questioned if they had forgotten my real name because I was hearing it so infrequently, but every now and then when the neighbors are visiting I’ll hear them drop my name as they gossip about my “crazy running” habits, my funny looking “bike hat”, or the way I insist upon NOT wearing long sleeves while the sun’s out to get a little tan going( as beautiful as they swear porcelain skin may be, I refuse to let go of my so-cal mentality that being sun-kissed just works a lot better for me).

My siblings and I; The new digs ;]

October

The first day of school was nerve racking. Two days prior, I was asked to give a speech for the entire student body at the opening ceremony…in Khmer (did I mention I got Novice High on the language exam?) Thankfully my beautiful counterpart Kimheng (who I will gush about in just a minute) did a magnificent job prepping me and providing me with enough vocabulary to get me through a solid 7 minute introduction of myself and what my intentions were for the upcoming year. I was pleased to receive such a warm welcome from the administration, my colleagues, and the 1700 students who now refer to me as “CHA” (‘teacher’, ‘Ms. Campbell’, or even ‘Jane’ is too much of a mouthful…obviously:])

Although the opening ceremony was quite the spectacle, I can’t say it was the highlight of my first few weeks at school. That in fact came during the second week, when during the second hour of observation in one of my 9^th grade classes, the Director and his Deputy pulled me from my class and asked me to accompany them as they, “made rounds.” I could not have been more wrong in assuming that this “making rounds” referred to taking a stroll through the different classrooms, and maybe extending a more personal hello and best wishes for the upcoming school year to the students and teachers. On the contrary, this “making rounds” bit involved only three things; a pair of scissors, and two grown ass men GIDDY at the opportunity to play barber shop. The director and deputy began walking up and down the aisles of the first classroom, pulling down the front part of all the boys’ hair determining it an acceptable length or…not. Now, should the latter have been the case (meaning, the boys hair was long enough to reach their eyebrows), the scissors came out, and the hair was done away with. Right in the middle of class! It was both hysterical and tragic watching countless young men have their “bangs” (and their dignity) fall helplessly on their desk. This went on for a total of 17 classrooms, God knows how many students, and my only regret was that I never was offered the opportunity to partake in the slicing and dicing myself. My sole contribution to this fiasco was standing timidly in the corner of each class, snickering to myself while simultaneously offering up a few sympathetic looks to the poor boys who fell victim to the scrutiny. Hopefully they didn’t assume these glances to be insincere :]

The transition from observing the English classes to actually running them was quite smooth. Peace Corps had done a great job in adequately preparing us with the teaching methods that had proven to be successful in the classroom, as well strategies in order to work with and around the obstacles we were inevitably going to encounter. So currently, I am teaching 11^th grade English Mondays and Tuesdays, 9^th grade on Wednesdays, 12^th grade early Thursday mornings, and a P.E. course late Thursday mornings. On Monday and Wednesday evenings, I teach a club at my director’s house for all ages, and all levels (this seemed like a good idea until the second class, when my roster increased from 70 students to 117). My students range from young children, to older adults, a group of village monks, and varying levels of high school students. One of these days I’m thinking I’ll need to split it up a bit, but as for now, I’m relying on my quirky teaching methods and the music of Justin Timberlake and The Beatles to help these students improve their English.

A shot of my school (it gets a bit flooded during rainy season); 1/3 of my English club

At the end of the month, my counterpart, Kimheng, invited me to join her and 24 students to visit Sihanoukville, Cambodia’s well-known tourist coastal town, to celebrate their accomplishment in winning a provincial-wide writing contest from the previous summer. I felt extremely honored to have been extended the invitation, and the thought alone of basking in the ocean for the first time in four months made me feel like a kid going to Disneyland for the first time. We spent the entire weekend playing soccer on the beach, sipping coconut juice beneath grass huts, frolicking around in lush forests filled with enormous trees, rich greenery, and some of the most breathtaking waterfalls I had ever seen, and swimming (fully clothed) in the gulf of Thailand. It was insanely perfect, and again, I was just grateful to have been asked to join in the vacation. Also, because this was a school-related function, my program manager granted me permission to break lockdown and leave Kampong Thom for the weekend.

Some lovely 11th graders and I visiting Kamong Saum; Playing futbol on the beach! They loved it.

Quick note about my counterpart; She’s PHENOMENOL. I have literally spent an inordinate amount of my phone minutes calling my friends simply to gush about how fortunate I am to have met such an incredible woman, and to have made such a wonderful friend. It’s safe to say she is one of the most generous people I have EVER met in my life. Generous, yes because she has spoiled me rotten by purchasing a wedding outfit for me (costing roughly $65), along with some essential needs for my room (a fan and a closest type thing), but also generous with her time, which to me was more valuable than any dress or place to hang my hat at the end of the day. This woman devoted so much of herself to ensuring my comfort in my home, taking me around the village and introducing me to her family and friends, inviting me to parties, cooking me food, and facilitating productive dialogue with the other teachers at my school (of the 20 something teachers, only 4 speak English). Her willingness to offer me such a warm and openhearted welcome to Baray has meant the world to me. She is truly an exquisite woman.

The one where we swore in as official United States Peace Corps Volunteers

Thu, 03 Mar 2011 10:07:58 -0500

So after officially moving out of Chamkar Leu and relaxing in the
provincial town of Kampong Cham for a few days, the 49 of us trainees
were transported down to Phnom Penh for our counterpart conference and
Swearing In Ceremony. IT WAS AMAZING! The Deputy Prime Minister Har
Seng, The US ambassador to Cambodia Carol Rodley, our PC Country
Director Jon Darrah and a number of other country officials were
present for the ceremony and welcomed us, open-armed to serve as
volunteers in their country. How sweet it was having the dream I
manifested six years ago, materialize into something so real, so
tangible. The event itself was only about an hour, and afterward we
were greeted by all the K3’s who had come from their provinces to
celebrate with us and savor this special moment.

The official K-4 (The fourth group to ever serve in Kampuchea) Volunteers; Shaking hands with the big shots :]; My dear friend Sarah and Language facilitator Mealea

And so today, as I reside in the lovely province of Kampong Thom,
Baray District, I say with complete and total optimism, I am so happy
to be right where I am. Yes, I am sitting contently and peacefully in
the freaking South Dakota of Cambodia, just drinking in all the glory
of those lovely rice patties and palm trees.

My family is incredible, however, they are terrified that I don’t like
their food (no matter how much I tell them “CHNIGING!!!”-meaning
delicious). So every day they feed me two meals and give me these bags
full of baguettes, fearing that if I don’t eat enough bread (which is
OBVIOUSLY all I ate in America) I will become deathly ill. However,
they’re truly are amazing. I have three sisters and a brother, two of
whom will be attending the school that I teach at. My dad walks around
all day in a sarong, which is a traditional bathing dress for woman.
He’s retired and it’s hysterical. My mom giggles at everything I say,
and not a single one of them speaks a word of English. My hopes are
high, and my days (tentatively) will consist of teaching English in
the mornings Monday-Thursday, coaching soccer/volleyball in the
afternoons, and spending Friday and Saturday at our communes health
center. Sounds right up my alley yes? :]

The one with all the training

Tue, 01 Mar 2011 01:19:00 -0500

So I have officially been at site for two weeks now, and can report to
being one happy kid. It’s been a solid two months since I’ve last
updated my tales, so bear with me as I take you on a stroll through my
training experience. It’s funny to me, there had been so much chatter
from current PCV’s that “Training is the toughest time, you’ll be so
happy when it’s over” and “if you can get through training, you’re two
years will feel like a piece of cake.” On the contrary, while I have
only been OUT of training for a few weeks now, I had an absolute blast
during my first two and a half months in Cambodia. Sure, at times the
regimented schedule seemed superfluous and mirrored the stringencies
of boot camp, and there were mornings where if it might have been nice
to call in sick and finally have some quality “me” time, but on the
whole, I really, really loved my days in Chamkar Leu. I am already
missing my host family, the LCF’s, our coffee shop lady, eating lunch
and dinner on the kitchen floor, playing soccer and football on our
Sunday afternoons off, and basically just being around everybody. This
was not, in my opinion, a trial-some time in the least-rather, it was
the perfect introduction to what my purpose here would entail, and it
was the ideal period of time to develop wonderful relationships with
my fellow trainees and the people in my community.

Weeks 2-9

A Typical day in Chamkar Leu
6:00 am – Wake up! And no, not to the sound of an alarm clock. No, no,
if it’s not the dogs howling or the roosters crowing, it’s the monks
chanting or the wedding/funeral music sounding at the volume of a
foghorn. GOOD MORNING!

7:30-11:30am – Language. I’m confident that my words won’t do justice
to what these sessions actually look like, so I won’t go on about the
daunting differences of pronouncing the distinctions between words
like “ombull” and “ompbull” (salt and light). I am so thankful that my
group had an unwavering sense of humor when approaching these classes,
for (more often than not) they truly were “shit shows” bahahaha.

11:30-12:30 – This period of the day usually consisted of laundry.
Laundry has always been my least favorite chore, and that was in
America, when all I had to do was round up my clothes, throw them in a
machine and push a measly button. Now in CAMBODIA, laundry has become
the bane of my existence. Here, laundry means squatting in your
backyard hovering over two wash bins, diligently scrubbing each
article of clothing, ringing out the soap, letting them soak in
another bucket of water, again ringing out any excess soap, letting
them soak for a second time, and then one final squeeze just to get
that extra bit of juice out hoping that now your t-shirt might be dry
15 minutes sooner. For the first three or four times completing this
chore, I was haunted by visions of Kelly Ripa in all her petite,
charming, euphoria, dancing around her kitchen, leisurely tossing her
clothes in the washing machine while simultaneously cooking a meal for
five, playing with her kids, watching TV, and cleaning her whole
house. It took me about a week, however, I’ve finally sucked it up and
begun to view this daily chore as more of a cathartic experience,
rather than a legitimate demise :]

1:30-5:00 – Technical Training/Cultural Training- This was typically
my favorite part of the day, mostly because it was where we discussed
teaching strategies, developed hypothetical lesson plans, and were
introduced to the many challenges we would inevitably face working as
educators in the secondary school system. While a lot of these
sessions were review for a lot of the trainees (a solid ratio of whom
are already certified teachers and tutors in the states), being a
new-bee, I found them to be particularly beneficial. It was also where
we were exposed to and received fascinating insight to the culture in
this country, both from current PCV’s and a number of Cambodians
themselves.

5:00-6:00 – I was so happy to learn that exercise and sports would not
become a distant memory to me by moving here! My preconceived
understandings of what were considered appropriate social activities
for women consisted merely of housework and endless chatter (both of
which I had never found to be particularly stimulating). It was to my
pleasant surprise that my fellow trainees and I were able to devote
this chunk of time (almost daily) to running, biking, or circuit
training. And Thank God! I doubt my body would have agreed with me
eating 1-2 bowls of rice three times a day and not countering the carb
intake with some decent form of “haat brauning” (exercise).

6:00-8:30 – This was another favorite part of my day, for it was here
that I was able to spend quality time with my family during dinner,
gabbing about silly things like how being tan in the states in
considered beautiful (direct opposite in Cambodia), or about how my
thighs are twice the size of my fourteen year old sister (I tried to
explain the whole “soccer legs” bit, but it just didn’t take). These
are the moments, bananacakes as it may sound, that I know I am going
to miss the most about moving to permanent site and leaving these
wonderful people. On our last night together, we stayed up until 9:30
(yes, that’s late :]) exchanging photographs of our families, eating
nom pong (sugar bread), crying and saying repeatedly to each other
“Kinyom nung nuk niek chiran!!!” (I will miss you a lot).

Our language group and fabulous LCF Ratt; Our local pagoda

But not everything was always rainbows and puppies out there in
Chamkar Leu, and I didn’t meander through my days wearing rose colored
glasses, whimsically singing show tunes and high-fiving all the
neighbors (well sometimes I did). It’s hot ALL THE TIME, and I
couldn’t wear capris, nonetheless shorts in my house for fear of
offending my father by showing too much leg. This was learned quickly
through trial and error. I once came downstairs in gauchos and had to
quickly retreat back to my room after my mom started slapping the
bottom of my leg , screaming in Khmer to go “lang lu p’tea” (upstairs)
and change. Also, I never could tell if I’d make it through the market
being able to breathe for fear that my poor senses were being numbed
by the horrific wafts of butchered pigs, dried fish, cow shit, or
maybe a side of burning trash. After living here for two months, it is
still incomprehensible to me how those women could sit so vigilantly
in such cramped spaces inhaling such a rancid collection of odors. I
admirably tip my hat to their tolerance

…No, it really wasn’t that bad

However, we all have our breaking points, and often times they are
evoked by the smallest, most seemingly insignificant environmental
factors or individual gestures. For example, the Coke lady. I see this
delightful woman maybe every other day at approximately the same hour
in order to reignite the constant sugar high that I have been
successful in maintaining since stepping off the plane in Kampuchea
(yes, that’s Cambodia in Khmer). I approach coke lady. I say,
“Susadie! Som, Kinyom chong Coka muy.” (Hello, I’d like one coke
please.) She looks at me, everyday, completely befuddled and confused
by this request. And so I go on, as I always do, and repeat myself 3,
maybe 4 times if I am feeling EXTRA patient. By the fourth time, when
I am still receiving this stoic, blank stare, knowing all too well
that her bright orange cooler is STOCKED FULL with coca cola (and I am
without a doubt CERTAIN that she knows exactly what I am asking for),
I point to the cooler and ask for a final time. Finally, in the most
shrilling, piercing, almost hyena-type howl she screams back at me,
“OHHHH! CokAAAAAHHHHHHH MUY!” “cokaaaa?” I reply, repeating it back
verbatim. “No, No, CokAAAAAAAAAHHHHH.”

DAMNIT lady. “AHHHH KUUUUN!!!!” (Thank you.)

Rainbows and puppies I tell ya.

Week 4

Practicum week. This week was, in my opinion, one of the most
essential elements of training, due solely in part to the fact that we
actually PRACTICED teaching to actual Khmer students, in a Cambodian
classroom, using the “English for Cambodia” curriculum (provided by
the Ministry of Education). While this week was in fact an imperative
facet of our training, it was dually the most terrifying. Upon
discovering that this week long trial was approaching, I immediately
recoil into panic mode. “WHAT?! TEACHING A WHOLE CLASS ALL ON MY OWN
AFTER ONLY BEING HERE FOR FOUR WEEKS?!? INSANITY!”

…Only not so much, because that IS my official job title right?

So the Sunday evening prior to my first day, I take some time and
revisit back to when I was 13 years old, learning to snowboard for the
first time. There I was standing at the top of the bunny hill at Big
Bear Mountain, staring down this snowy death trap that I was convinced
would be the end of me. I look to my brother for some kind of solace,
some empathy for needing to venture down this treacherous trail all on
my own. He, of course was losing his patience with my apprehension,
for he had already mastered the bunny hill (and every other run at
that mountain), and dad had forced him to be my riding partner for the
day. So after about 8 minutes of standing strapped into my board,
heels wedged firmly into the snow, internally refusing to budge and
designing different getaway techniques that did not include riding
down that hill, he pulls the whole, “hey look over there!” distraction
tactic. I, of course, fall for it. He proceeds to stiff arm me out of
my comfortable nook in the snow, and push me VIOLENTLY down the hill
at a speed so far beyond my comfort ability, I was literally “shaking
in my boots.” I was certain this scenario would end with a broken
bone, maybe a concussion, or at least a humiliating face plant. But
wait a second, I WAS SNOWBOARDING! Viola! Well, for about 5 feet I was
snowboarding, before I ate it. Needless to say, I made it down that
damn bunny hill eventually, and ultimately developed a keen fondness
for the sport.

Quite the long tangent, however, it was my very roundabout way of
taking a look at practicum week and saying, “Hey Peace Corps, thanks
for stiff arming me into the classroom and making a teacher out of
me.” And for the record, the week was a total success! All seventy-one
of our fantastic 9th graders had hearts of gold, and a willingness to
learn that frankly I had NEVER seen in any of my American classrooms.
This was in fact one of the more reaffirming weeks of training, but I
will happily admit that the finality of this week equally provided an
earnest feeling of relief :]

My co-teachers for the week, G-mo and Billy Mac; The Chamkar Leu nighthawks! woo!

Week 5

The next phase of training (or MOMENTOUS DAY I should say) was site
announcement. The idea that we would be finding out where we’d be
working, serving, and LIVING for the duration of our two years in
Kampuchea induced the most intense nervousness and anticipation I had
seen out of myself (and all the trainees for that matter) since
meeting everyone in San Francisco. I am sad to say however, this was a
very anti-climactic moment for me. Upon receiving my little white
envelope and discovering I’d be moving to Kampong Thom, I looked up
and around, completely bewildered because I had NO FREAKING CLUE where
that was. When I finally took my place on the giant map the staff had
been drawn out on the floor, I look around and realize that I am
standing in the middle of the map. Ok, ok, so now what? I open my
envelope, read my province’s description, and to paraphrase, it read
something like this, “Kampong Thom is the geographical center of
Cambodia. It is very large, but there is not a lot going on here. It
does however serve as a mid-way point for people traveling from Phnom
Penh to Siem Riep, and vice versa. There are a lot of rice patties,
and palm trees, and it gets really hot.” Oh, okay, just so we’re on
the same page here…you’re telling me I’m living at a truck stop?!?
I’ve lived coastal my whole life! My home has always been a vacation
destination! Where is my point of reference if I don’t have an ocean
within 20 miles of me?!”

So I take a deep breath, and keep reading. To my initial dismay, that
was the basic gist of my future home. I weave through the mass of
trainees, who, for the majority are quite pleased with their
placements and housing descriptions, all the while, I’m just trying to
wrap my brain around the whole extravaganza. I’m not jumping for joy,
but I’m not weeping out of disappointment either. I decide that while
it would be easy to let my imagination run wild with the “what if’s”
and “how to-s” of Kampong Thom, I surely would drive myself mad
presuming and manifesting ideas about this place that I literally knew
NOTHING about. Instead, I take this minute to relish in the joy of all
the people around me; like Angela, who’s moving to Sihanoukville and
will be an unstoppable force in working with (and helping to prevent)
the human trafficking tragedies that are sadly thriving in that region
of the country. Or like Lindsay, an extremely talented
musician/dancer/artist, who is going to work at a school that has an
auditorium and a piano, and she can help inspire art in such beautiful
forms. Or Aaron, who will be surrounded by NGO’s that offer
rehabilitation centers for young men who maybe didn’t make the best
decisions when they were young, but are finally ready to initiate
change in their lives. I took such genuine pride in the happiness of
the people around me, and confidence knowing that some powerful
movements were on the horizon.

Week 7

The day I got robbed.
So this was fun. Post site visit, we all joined back together in Phnom
Penh for another seminar day, and deemed it necessary to end a long
afternoon in a stuffy conference room gallivanting around the city,
drinking in that good American normalcy (you know, girls wore tank
tops and had a few beers). After a full night of dancing on a boat and
eating a hot dog pizza with mayonnaise frosting (a purchase I was
deceived into making and my appetite refused to let me turn down this
not-so-delicious treat), I wasn’t quite ready to call it a night. My
friend Ryan (another San Diegan WOO!) and I were sitting on a park
bench bantering about geographical whereabouts in Southern California
and whether or not North County could actually be considered San
Diego. I was about halfway through defending good ol’ Rancho Bernardo
when this DOUCHE BAG disrupts my argument by running up behind us,
swooping my bag from the bench, and takes off across the dewy grass.
While it took me a solid 3.4 seconds to process what the hell was
going on, Ryan had already ninja flipped over the back of the park
bench and took off after the little nark. By the time I mentally had a
grasp of what was going on and jumped from my seat, I witness Ryan’s
feet come right out from underneath him and completely eat it. So I of
course, put a pep in my step and take off after this dude, pencil
skirt, rainbows, and all. Just as I crossed the wet grass myself and
was at that point of really gaining on him, I tumble over the curb and
practically do a somersault on the asphalt, and land painfully on my
knee. By the time I get to my feet, Ryan (who has been screaming all
sorts of obscenities in Khmer) passes me, and once again, in full
form, completely falls over himself, hitting the asphalt himself. It
was a complete fiasco of goofy white kids falling all over the place
(did I mention we are both athletes? Athletes who, for whatever
reason, had lost any and all coordination at that precise moment). By
the time we were really closing in on this punk, he just threw my bag
on the ground and took off, thankfully only stealing my wallet, fan,
and hairbrush (I know, WTF?!?). I managed to keep my camera and phone
in my possession which was all I really cared about anyway, and can
honestly reflect on this tumbling debacle with unadulterated
hysterics. As for now, I am using Emily Dickinson’s poetry collection
as my new “Gabobe Luey” (wallet) for assurance that no D-Bag who tries
to take my purse will be tempted to steal a book.

Week 8

The last week of training felt like summer camp was ending. So many
goodbyes, so many plans to stay in touch, so many bags to be packed.
But before getting too sentimental and wrapped up in leaving, we had
to take the LPI - the dreaded language exam that each trainee is
obligated to take (and pass of course) prior to becoming an official
volunteer. While I wish I could pride myself simply in successfully
passing on the first round, it was difficult for me to swallow that I
actually did WORSE on the final than on the midterm. Yes, as in, I
received an Intermediate Low on the practice test, and four weeks
later, after another slew of lessons and practical application, I
actually digressed into Novice High. There was something seriously
disturbing about this to me, and I harped on it for a solid 34 minutes
after getting the results. Finally, and thankfully, my dear friend
Sarah slapped me out of my petty self-loathing by reminding me, “Hey
Jane, WE’RE IN.”

Why yes, we are.

Our village going away party!; My beautiful host sisters and I the night before I moved out of my training home

The one where I discovered that soccer existed in Cambodia.

Tue, 01 Mar 2011 00:33:00 -0500

I suppose I should begin by letting you all know that during my 8
weeks in Chamkar Leu (my training district), internet will essentially
be inaccessible. Should I feel so compelled to bike the 20 kilometers
to the nearest cafe and update this thing, you may hear from me sooner
than September 20th. Fair warning through right? As for now, I will do
my best to condense the first couple of weeks of training into a few
short paragraphs. Let’s see if they will do justice for this Cambodian
life..

So in the last two and a half weeks I have;
*Eaten a tarantula AND a cricket
*Played futbol with the locals and my fellow trainees in the middle of
a rainstorm.. on the concrete.. BAREFOOT
*Began studying (and making a complete debacle of) the Khmer Language
*Met some incredible individuals who, by the nature of this program
(i.e. everything happens at an insanely rapid pace) have become
instant close friends
*received 6 of my 12 vaccination shots
*discovered that riding a mountain bike in a Sampot (the traditional
Khmer teaching skirt..floorlength) IS in fact possible!
*consumed an inordinate amount of rice, dried fish, and Angkor Beer
(the U.S equivalent of Natty Ice. LAAA TEEE DAAA)
*recognized that I sweat more than an overweight, middle-aged man in
the middle of the desert. SWEET!
*come to find that 1994 Toyota Camry’s are the country’s most commonly
owned four wheel vehicle. Anyone who knows me understands what a cheap
and exciting thrill this brings to my everyday life

So let’s bring it back to the beginning, assuming that’s the best
place to start anyway :]

Wednesday July 21st, after a solid 17 hours of traveling, our group
“K4” (the fourth Peace Corps tour to ever serve in Cambodia) finally
arrived in the country’s capital, Phnom Penh. While the majority of
our two days were spent taking care of logistical matters and
attending seminars on how to avoid getting Dengue or Malaria, our very
minimal introduction to the city was quite an experience. It’s quite a
befuddling dichotomy to see such a culturally lush city be so
completely overwhelmed with extreme poverty and architectural
devastation on EVERY corner. We spent a few hours gallavanting through
the city, truly upholding a tourists role, and meeting current
volunteers from the K2 and K3 groups who so kindly came to meet us and
greet us and welcome us to this spectacular place. Their stories were
quite fascinating, and I gathered quite a few common threads of advice
woven throughout their sound words of wisdom; Smile..A LOT. Learn the
language!!!! Do NOT dart across the streets here in sheer frogger
fashion..slowly meander your way to the other side while hoping to
dear God you do not get struck by the unruly Moto’s that flood the
streets (there are absolutely ZERO pedestrian rights). Lean heavily on
your fellow trainees and current volunteers-they are the only ones who
can truly empathize. And most importantly…EMBRACE EVERYTHING!!!!

The King’s Palace.. and a GIANT Khmer lunch on our way to Kampong Cham

From Phnom Penh, all the trainees were transported to a province
called Kampong Cham for 4 days where we received intensive cultural
training and a very brief intro to the language. It was here that the
PC staff rigorously engraved in our brains that PDA does not exist in
Cambodia. If you are seen eating, drinking, or studying with any one
individual from the opposite sex, it is then assumed that the two of
you will be married by next week. Also, Tattoos and bandanas
immediately refer to your gangster status. And finally, if you have
multiple pierced ears (like my dear friend Sarah), you are considered
a “Bad Girl.” Good times.It was also here that we learned how to appropriately eat a familydinner, use the restroom/take bucket showers, and do our laundry. I
feel confident that each of these three categories alone are worthy of
their own hysterical blog. But frankly.. there’s just no time!

Once we completed our initial training in Kampong Cham, we were
divided into three groups of 18 and transported to our training site
which is where we will remain for the next 8 weeks. After arriving in
Chamkar Leu, the 18 of us attended a very formal welcoming ceremony at
the village’s Wat (Buddhist Temple). It was in this moment that things
became very real, and very serious for me. The interior of Temple was
breathtakingly beautiful, dressed with vibrant colors and impressive
statues and pillars. We filed in, paid our respects to the monks
through the “Sopehup” gesture (hands pressed together in front of
one’s face paired with a subtle bow), and received welcome
announcements from members of the community. Our host families came
and greeted us, and it was undoubtedly the beginning of the two most
awkward days of my life.

In my family, I have my mother (Maa), father (Poe), and two younger
sisters (Bong Serey; one is 14, the other 16) all of whom are
fascinated with my white skin, long eyelashes, and short hair. When i
say fascinated, I am referring to their incessant touching, grabbing,
and picking at all of these parts of me and erupting in genuine
laughter. Not a single one of them speaks a LICK of English. It has
been a week long game of charades, and I am failing miserably. I am
however, embracing every second of the ongoing misunderstandings, and
cannot begin to express how appreciative I am of their hospitality and
welcoming nature. Thank God I can at least tell my mother, “You’re
food is delicious.”

Here are a few other PCT’s and I in traditional Khmer teaching clothes, and a picture from my training village, Chamkar Leu

Currently, I am visiting a married couple from K3 in Takeo who have
been extremely helpful in introducing us to “a typical life as a PCV
in Cambodia.” They also have provided me with internet, which has been
a luxury I can honestly say I haven’t exactly missed. Tonight we will
indulge ourselves in some delicious Western food and appreciate the
company of others with whom we can actually communicate with on a
level much deeper than “Hi, how are you? My favorite color is red and
I like to play soccer!”

And on that note.. ;] I am missing you all and wishing you well! I
believe the next time you hear from me, I will be wrapping up training
and preparing myself for our official Swear-in on September 23rd.
EEEEK!

Love Love Love

The one where it all started

Sun, 20 Feb 2011 10:23:00 -0500

I find it imperative to share with those of you who don’t know me all
that well that my tech-savvy skills are not in any way reflective of a
college graduate, a working professional, or even comparable to those
of a 10 year old in 2010. That being said.. Welcome to my blog! I will
do my best to dazzle you with my Peace Corps adventure and share with
you my testimonies serving as a Youth Development Advisor and English
Teaching Volunteer in Cambodia.

And so my journey began this morning at approximately 7:50am as I took
flight to my old stomping grounds in San Francisco to attend the
initial Staging Event/Orientation. While my nerves and anxiousness
consumed me for a good majority of the morning, there is just
something about the thick, hovering, SF fog that can miraculously put
this girl at ease. As I rode the BART through these familiar streets
and trekked the 7 blocks to the Kabuki Hotel, somehow managing to
balance a travel backpack, a soccer bag, a rolling suitcase, and a
messenger bag (roughly 90 pounds), all of those uncomfortable jitters
dissipated, and I was overcome by a sense of genuine euphoria. I WAS
SO READY!!!!!!

…Let me not forget to give major kudos to the two bums who
generously offered me their shopping carts as means to transfer my two
years worth of luggage up Filmore Street. While I gracefully declined,
it was just another blink of how beautiful people really are as long
as you’re looking in the right place :]

It’s been quite a day thus far; so much paperwork, so much information
to absorb, and soooooo many names to remember. I am thoroughly pleased
that the group I am traveling with exceeds the mere 35 that I was
originally expecting. Tomorrow morning, a total of 55 individuals will
embark to Southeast Asia and beging their journeys as Peace Corps
Trainees. I feel so fortunate to be a part of this group, representing
this country in the name of peace and friendship. WAAAHH WAAAAH WAAAAH
(you know I love the queso!) And until then, my roomie and I are
indulging ourselves in a six pack of Stellas, knowing all too well
that this will NOT be appropriate behavior for women in a few days!

Here is the view from our hotel.. and a group of some lovely ladies at SFO enjoying our last American meal before heading overseas.

Next time you hear from me I will be attempting to survive my first monsoon season and figuring out how the hell to go to the bathroomwithout using toilette paper. CHEERS!