8.29.2008

Some Photos


Important things about these photos:





1. A wat near my house.










2. The wat's strange elk - animal thing.












3. Sweet corn (that doesn't compare to my home state)












4. Oudong temple part 2 - the view from a shrine to a monk.

8.27 - Oudong


8.27.08
We’re beginning to branch out now. Because my last entry had the awful baby duck metaphor, I’ll spare that for now…but I think you and I both know what object I’m referring to, and you may or may not know that Peace Corps, in one session, asked us to come up with an object (and draw it) that describes our strengths and weaknesses. I chose a tree, so ‘branching out’ is pretty normal for me…

In this particular instance, we went traveling. One of the LCFs (Language and Culture Facilitators) took the majority of our village PCTs to the nearby town of Oudong, where we climbed up a bunch of stairs to see a temple, and saw a beautiful wat which is a provincial center for monks to come and study. This wat had a giant Buddha at rest, a statue of a woman who soaked up the water in a lake with her hair to save her husband from a crocodile, and a wonderfully decorated temple with a giant jade Buddha. We saw the equivalent of nuns, dressed all in white, and plenty of monks, in the traditionally different shades of orange.

At the top of the nearby ‘mountain,’ and I use that word sparingly because it is just 300 some steps to the top, we could see for miles and miles (kilos and kilos). The top looked down on wetlands and villages. Please note that on the way to the top, you can pay children to follow and fan you. There are lots of stops on the way in case you are hungry for a coca cola or a snow cone, and you can get plenty of fruit as well. Our LCF bought some, in fact, which subsequently got stolen by a monkey on the way down. I’m not exaggerating – the monkey was very passionate about that fruit.

Back at the bottom, we had a lovely family picnic…Khmer style. We rented a table with hammocks tied on the posts, sat down on the top and ate. It was a real picnic when the ants discovered the area and went straight for the pile of roast chicken. One thing was different…throughout our meal, several children came by with big trays of bracelets and souvenirs (one bracelet even said souvenir on it) or big trays of things to sell. Our LCF bought one that said ‘hip hop’ on it, which is very fitting for the guy whose ring tone is ‘Just a lil bit’ by 50 Cent.

Once we returned from our journey, we went out on a long bike ride, through rice paddies and tiny villages to 2 different wats near our village. There must be at least 7 wats within biking distance from my house. And this is in a village of somewhere between 1000 high school students and 10,000 people. It’s hard to be sure (my family has no clue). Either way, the wats are very beautiful everywhere and they are a pleasure to visit, although I don’t know the proper vocab to speak to the monks yet. Instead of our usual greeting words, there is almost another language to learn for conversing with them. So, instead, we just visit, sit, enjoy, and listen to the silence that permeates the entire compound (Except for those geese that are not quiet at all, and angry).

When we rolled back into town from our long ride (which none of us know how to say in Khmer…why would we want to ride our bikes if we aren’t going anywhere?), we enjoyed some delicious coconut milk, straight out of the coconut of course, and recharged. Whenever I am tired or sleepy in the daytime, my family recommends a coconut which they graciously provide from one of the many trees in our yard. It’s funny, I hated coconut in the States, but here it is one of my favorite things. Like hammocks. And cold beverages. The list goes on and on.

I am constatnly thinking about life back at Simpson, back at the PA with all my friends...I know the stand around is soon, if not already past, and I imagine the school bustling about.

The Best and the Worst


8.22.2008
Much like the baby ducks that are growing into their ugly adolescence, I too am beginning to grow into my environment and the challenges that surround it. Of course, not everything is perfect, but I don’t think that there would be anything fun about that (nor would there be anything for me to write about, depriving the many readers from across the country the joy of my simple blog ).

I must say that last Tuesday, the 19th, was probably the best and worst day of service so far. Before I go into that, though, even the worst was not even close to what could have been – so saying ‘worst’ is basically a misnomer. Either way, Monday saw us at our hub site, for another pair of seminar days where all three of the villages get together and talk about safety or teaching, or in this case, Cambodian mines. Monday also saw us in the capable arms of the PCMO, our nurse for whom it is quite an insult to be called ‘just a nurse.’ She is our mother in this country, the keeper of the huge medical files that I’m sure anyone semi-related to a PCV knows about, the holder of what I would say is the majority of PC Cambodia’s purse, and generally, everything we could ever hope to have in terms of support. She is also, by default, the giver of those wonderful things known as i-m-m-u-n-i-z-a-t-i-o-n-s…(it’s best to whisper this away from the ears of children and PCTs…). As it had been a considerable 2 weeks since our last shots, we got two this time, and if I could remember what they were called, I would mention it, but the medical terms have become a jumble in my head.

Later, after our (shh…) shots, I played soccer, had a little dinner, and felt iffy at best. The next day, I was fine, but after we got home I fell into bed with a fever of over 102. One of my fellow trainees had a similar experience, and after double checking with the regular thermometer and the tempa-dot thermometer that made me think of good ole Mikey at home, as well as a little expletive, I gave in and called our PCMO. We were worried (this is where the not-so-worst part comes in) that I might have had dengue fever, considering there has been a supposed case in our village, but as my fever cooled and I had a bite of some Khmer food that tasted like Christmas chowder, I felt better. I did (and still do) have a very red heat rash that my family called the measles, but fear not…because….on that very same Tuesday, I indulged with a) peanut butter, b) pizza flavored Pringles – real ones, straight from the states! And c) a delicious cookies and cream ice cream cone. Real ice cream. It was indescribable.

But back to that awkward adolescence metaphor…

I’m beginning to do things wrong. This is not a bad thing, though. In fact, it is very good, because it means that my family is beginning to be honest with me, which I both appreciate and fear. It is very good, though, and almost entirely always very strange. Here’s why: I don’t know enough Khmer vocabulary, despite school every day and lots of practice, to fully communicate the things that pop into my head in response to the things that they are saying. These things are usually about me, which I notice because they call me by name or mention me or laugh while they look at me. I know enough Khmer to get the jist of what they are saying but not exactly, which makes things super odd. Plus, because I have so many siblings and because they are so close, they are laughing at me all the time. It is a fact that I am still coming to terms with, but one that I appreciate, because I hear that teasing the ones you love the most is as popular here as in the states. Even my mom mentioned in our recent tea chat that one of her favorite ways to enjoy my presence is to make me think I am not good when in reality, I’m not so bad. Hopefully…

Other than that….important updates:
In a need to feel somewhat pretty after the rash that has travelled from my left arm to my right foot, I shaved my legs and plan on painting my toes (obviously for my fictitious Khmer boyfriend that I found in less than 4 weeks….).

I can now easily shower without warm water and crave cool drinking water more than you can imagine.

You have more important updates than I do because all of my news is in Khmer with very un-suggestive filmography that gives me few to none useful context clues. The sports that were shown from the Olympics are Brasil v. Argentina futbol, some running, diving and something where a guy in long white pants was jumping on a giant trampoline. Trainees and I are craving some news.

Happy Birthday Mom …I remembered!

8.18.2008

8.17 - Some absurdities (thanks, Jennifer!)

8.17.08
Maybe it’s me…but I think the sky is bluer here. Maybe not, and all the play me-an and the weekend’s festivities have been getting to me, but I still think that things are way more vivid here. It has been quite a weekend. I knew something was happening, but I wasn’t sure what it was. On Thursday, the women in my family (and even some of the men) began preparing some banana leafs and other foodstuffs, beginning to cook and prep and make more food than is usual or necessary for our family. I began to suspect that something was happening, but at the same time, I wasn’t sure what it was. And, because no one in my family speaks enough English for me to ask…I was at a loss. I found out later that the big event is a Chinese holiday. Last Friday was the day…of…something – Bon Sain Kball Tuk. I’m not sure exactly what that means, but kball is the word for ‘head’ and tuk is ‘water.’ It was more than eventful, though. On that particular day, they brought fruit and put it on the altar of the ancestors and lit up very pretty lights around the altars as well. A couple of my friends came over for lunch and an additional 3 brothers and a sister showed up.

I think that my concept of how many people are in my family is constantly changing. It turns out that I have more brothers and sisters than I thought. In fact, I have 5 brothers and 4 sisters (not to mention my bong nang who lives with her kids in the house). But I think that I make it an even number…5 boys and with me, 5 girls. And I had the awesome pleasure of meeting yet another 2 brothers and a sister.

Of course, this did present an interesting challenge. Makara, the younger of the 2 new brothers, age 22, who you may remember from the red underwear on the line/belly chain incident (oh yes, same guy, same red undergarments once again hanging on the line), has decided, for some reason, that he enjoys my company. So, he has written me a letter talking about the pleasure he has had speaking with me. While under some occasions I would be more than thrilled about this…this time is not one of them and I must handle the situation with delicacy above all. For now it is an addition to the series of entertaining texts that I have sent one of my fellow trainees.

Practicum is over for a week. And it went well!! Plus, the end of the week saw us all celebrating with delicious noodles all together, a lovely occasion that we all appreciated. When I returned home will a tummy full, Makara and a few of his friends were dancing…to American hip hop! Anyone who knows me can imagine how excited I was. American hip hop…after all this Khmer music…only my favorite genre of music!!! Of course, a few of my favorites happened to be reworded in Khmer (“Low” by Flo Rida, “Beautiful Girl” by Sean whoever, and some others as well). It didn’t matter. Because of my excitement, I simply had to…dance. Upon further ‘light of day’ reflection, it may not have been the best idea to dance to hip hop with a handful of young Khmer men, especially since that group included my new suitor, but I had plenty of permission from my bong nang, and my mom and sisters were watching from the balcony. And I was having way too much fun!!

I think that my general feeling is that of sheer absurdity. I took that last college class on Theatre of the Absurd and see it everywhere. Life here is so different, and I still can’t believe that I am here and living and working in a different country.

And we trainees miss pizza and milk and cereal.

"Clang na" = "very hungry"

8.13 - Toenails - who knew?



8.13.08
My family has decided that I have a boyfriend.

Let me explain. My first day with the family, I showed pictures of many people and made mention that I have lots and lots of friends – boys and girls. However, I said that I didn’t have a b-f for the sheer reason that I didn’t want to be making wedding plans throughout my time here. Here in the great state of Kampuchea…boyfriend = bong = sra lang = song-saa = husband or wife. It isn’t like lovely America, where dating is an acceptable way to spend time and boys and girls are remarkably dispensable. You have to be careful about these kinds of things.

So…out of personal interest, I said, no, I do not have a sweetheart or a boyfriend or any sort of thing for the sheer fact that I would rather maintain the image of a teacher and it is easier without trying to explain details about a boy in a language that I barely speak.

My family has known my “relationship status” for some time. However…they have changed their mind. I must have a sweetheart they say – I absolutely must! Why, you ask? Well…because I painted my toenails. Yep, I painted my toenails, and I must have done so because I have a boyfriend. Of course, they’re teasing, but the theory is still basically there. I’m sure if I put on make-up, it would be the equivalent of being practically married. Or…wanting that status within the week. My LCF noted that the act of painting your nails is a fairly rare one, one reserved for the break-all-the-rules weddings. Granted I have only heard stories and seen pictures of these so called weddings, but I basically agree. The women that I see in the street don’t wear make-up and, as much as they may try, not always clean clothes though always modest. In the weddings, though…think 80s prom with ruffles upon ruffles piled atop silk ruffles. Or…think the most elaborate occasion ever with silk and lace and make-up caked on like frosting on an amazing 5 tier wedding cake. A white cake…very very white frosting on a very white cake.

PS…I can’t wait for my first wedding…as long as it isn’t my own.

8.12 - Sweet sounds of the life


8.12.08
My teaching success was not a fluke, and I base that off of the fact that I had a lovely day of teaching today that was very fun and (mostly) informative, especially if you consider ‘waffles’ to be a vital English vocabulary word, which of course I do. But that isn’t what this blog is about, despite my desire to rave about all the foods that I miss and all the new foods that I can’t get enough of. I’ll show pictures, but I would rather enlighten a subject that can’t be captured in pictures.

I have discovered that this lovely little country of Kampuchea has its very own network of sounds that have become (mostly) as natural to me as a midnight train through my old town of Valley, Nebraska. I realize that only current and former Valley residents will understand that reference, but it can be applied to any small town with a highly trafficked train track, or any small, medium, or large town with some sound unique to its geographic area of the world.

There is rarely a moment of silence in this little village that I live in. Early in the morning, I get several wake-up calls from the roosters (one of which, I am convinced, sounds like a broken automated robot). I hear sporadic roosters throughout the day, actually, and I would say that they are celebrating the light, but they began shouting far before the sun rises. I also usually hear from the baby two rooms away. She has a piercing scream that rivals no American baby I…no…I take that back. She screams but rarely cries and is usually quiet. But every once in awhile, at just about 3 in the morning, her baby call floats over the practically paper walls that aren’t anywhere closed to being attached to the stretched cloth ceiling, and I am awake for a desperate few seconds before I fall back into slumber.

Also in the morning, around the six or seventh hour of the day, I hear some sort of Khmer music blaring from the speakers at one or two of my neighbor’s homes. And also from the renter downstairs, though I’ve come to realize that he in his…bacheloresque ways…doesn’t always make it home to sleep in his own bed every night. I’ve only actually met him once, so he is mysterious and I’m largely unconcerned with his presence.

The compound right next to ours has lots of kids, I think. I always here sounds of children playing and mothers not-so-gently scolding and fathers ordering. It’s a fairly constant stream whenever I am in my bedroom, lounging and reading and writing and folding.

I constantly hear the sounds of the young kids in the house. Pe-ah and Le-ah tease each other (and me) constantly in the way that only a few teenage girls can. I think that their new favorite thing is to poke me in the tummy and watch me react with loud and completely inaccurate recreations of kung fu in the backyard. And, for anyone that knows me…this is not much of a stretch. Plus the sounds of the younger two, of the bong nang’s kids. The older one sings songs and says things to me in Khmer that I can almost never decipher, and the younger one settles for vehemently shouting things to me in Khmer that I really never decipher. The last things that I recall her shouting is the word for ghost (which I can’t remember right now) because my hair was at peak fluff down from its braid and brushed out.

With all the animals in the compound, their sounds cannot be excluded. I hear our new baby ducks, and the older baby ducks, the young chickens and the old chickens. Never the cat (he’s a little sick I think…constant undernourishment will do that L). Always the dogs. They fight with each other at least 5 times a day, and any time a stranger walks down the street back dark, its like all the dogs howl at the top of their lungs to compete on who can tell their owner the first. It’s amazing, really. Simply amazing.

When the rain comes it is a new set of sounds, and we have to fight to hear anything else. A hard rain pounding over tin with almost no insulation to mute the sound is not a good time to learn language (and yes, I have found that out the hard way). However, people will try to counteract any sound of rain with TV as loud as it can possibly go. TV in this case, includes one of the following:
a) music videos with lilting voices and similar themes as cheesy Country music (love) songs, and karaoke in Khmer script at the bottom. In case you are interested, the only holiday that I know of from America is Valentine’s Day…go figure.
b) poorly dubbed previously mentioned Chinese/Korean/Pilipino/Thai soap operas and American 80s movies that I have never seen/heard of/can tell you the title of, and
c) cirque du soleis Cambodia style with very poor sound quality.
The thing that we watch most (through lunch and dinner until sleep) is music videos, because it just so happens we have a karaoke machine, and soap operas, though I did see a poorly dubbed Japanese movie that had some of the filthiest language I have ever seen…because it was subtitled in English.

I think that my favorite and least favorite sound that I hear is on the go – and it is the sound of all of the children in the neighborhood saying, “Hello! Sussadei! Goodbye! Hello! Hello! Hello!! Helllloooo!!!!!!!” It was very cute…but as I am here longer and I hear the same children saying the same thing, I can’t say it is the best part about riding around town. The same goes with teenagers and older guys who ask me, “Where I go.” I usually answer in Khmer, which always makes them smile (then again, what doesn’t?). There are also the older women who tell me how pretty I am…sa’at naa!

And the geckos in my house sound like little mice and make a clicking sound at random intervals throughout the day. Yes, geckos in my house. I’m friends with anything that decreases the bug population and is entertaining on the ceiling at the same time.

I almost forgot one. Lots of people have recordings of the chants of the monks, which reminds me of the first day in the village. The voices are very steady, and as one voice takes a break the others fall into the chant in his place. I hear this often, especially in light of the fact that there was a funeral today and it was playing all morning long.

8.11...Successes so far!






8.11.2008
Despite the fact that it is almost ten o’clock and therefore almost my bedtime, I have an indescribable urge to write about the somewhere between 2 and 15 individual successes that I have had today. I know that is hard to believe, but this is Peace Corps, where anything is possible. I will go in chronological order so as to make things less confusing and brief because, let’s face it, the bed that I am sitting in is waiting for my prone form to indent itself on the mattress as I dream the sweet slumber of a long and exhaustingly amazing day.

My first success is actually a success of a few days ago, but it is worth mentioning for the sheer cultural value. In my house I have an older sister and 2 younger sisters, as well as a renter who lives with her kids in one room and who the girls call “bong nang,” or lucky older sister. It is actually the culturally accepted practice to call someone older than you “bong,” older, or “boo,” uncle, or “ming,” aunt, or some equally familial word for just about everyone you meet. Guests are the exception, and are not really called anything…at least from my perspective. Since my name is notoriously difficult for the Khmer speakers, my “bong nang” calls me “you” and the others just sort of struggled along on the path. However, a few days ago, the younger of my two younger sisters (whose name means gentle) began to call me “bong srai,” big sister, and I couldn’t be more thrilled at this acceptance into the family.

Today my teaching began, and I was a nervous wreck as I poured cool water over myself in the shower, fastened and straightened my dark blue Khmer skirt, and pulled on my helmet to ride through the market and go off to school, where a mass of young teens in dark skirts and slacks and light button downs were watching in some curious/fascinated/kid-at-school-in-the-summer daze. However, I took it as somewhat of a good omen that, when I was riding my bike to school today, an old monk in his flowing and overlapping orange turned from his perch on the back of a moto and flashed a wide, toothless smile at me. I’m still a little confused about my role around monks, especially in town, but this had to be a positive start to the day… As if I wasn’t nervous enough at the thought of teaching one class, I get ready to walk into class when a fellow teacher tells me that because of the mass of kids in our grade, we three need to teach two times to two groups of students in order to make up for the lack of space in one classroom. I am aghast!! But, as I walk into the classroom and tape up my flip chart paper, and look around to the 40-50 eager (?) Khmer teens, it comes like natural and my lesson goes off without a hitch. I smiled, and played charades, and taught a lesson that may have actually been enjoyable. My sense of relief was great and I smiled broadly at my accomplishment of the ‘impossible.’ I’m not as bad a teacher as I thought I was.

Somewhere between there and my second equally as amazing lesson, I received not one, but 2 letters from my oh-so-amazing grandmother. I’d say that reliable mail service is certainly a success on this side of the globe!

A successful session of “Bao Kao Ao-e” has once again passed. I use the Khmer term for laundry because for me, laundry implies a certain ease with which hand clothing washing does not exactly live up to.

Lunch was Long John Silvers fish that my sister picked off of the bones for me (and I actually liked it…one of the first fish-liking experiences of my life!) Oranges and my favorite plaiy me-an followed.

Ahhhh…..the sweet, sweet feel of rain and the cool air that travels with it.

At my new language instructor’s lesson today, we learned (finally!) about illness and how to saw that you aren’t feeling well. I have been begging for that one since I decided to cut back on the rice despite my family’s fervent pleas that I “nyam bai nyam bai” “eat rice eat rice!” Ask me if I have a fever, or a sore throat, or a tummy ache, head ache, ankle sprain, and (strangely enough) typhoid fever…and I can easily tell you in more than one language how much my body would like a doctor or some medicine or at least my cell phone to call the PC nurse.

I reached a new chapter in my new favorite book…”Eat Pray Love” by Elizabeth Gilbert. I highly recommend it.

Here comes a big one…even more than one big one, actually:

I cooked.

I cooked in Cambodia.

I cooked fried potatoes and onions and garlic in Cambodia. (This is what English class sounds like, by the way).

And…garlic bread.

Not only that, but they sort of liked it. Not too much, not exactly delicious, but as I was in my seventh heaven usually only achieved through some sugary substance known as chocolate, or ice cream, or chocolate ice cream, they were steadily consuming my fried concoction and the bread with a nice garlicky veggie oil on the side. It was a little experiment that was substantially successful in my eyes. Sure, Dad called it tasteless and my sister just looked at it and me with her big smile that shows the gold tooth in the side of her mouth, but…it was so much better than rice today!

And in shopping for this little adventure, which I cooked on a portable gas stove that poofed out of nowhere like in the Jetson’s cartoons, I got a few smiles, a few hellos, a couple “sa’ats” (pretty). And the little baby didn’t cry when I held her as we walked home.

It was even a successful TV day. My favorite soap opera (as previously mentioned) was on, and I found out that it is (a) Chinese and (b) called…Lethal Weapons of Love and Passion. No one can make this stuff up…
In addition to Lethal Weapons…(please excuse my further use of the title to gain a bit of a giggle from myself and you, the reader)…I also had the pleasure of seeing 2 classic American culture icons: Usher and Justin Timberlake. Both through some amazing music videos which just made my day. I also had the pleasure or hearing and seeing the Khmer knock off of the “beautiful girl/suicidal” song which mentions beautiful girls (in English) but in Khmer…prolly not the suicide so much. I think it is a bit of an improvement, though the jury is still out for now.

And I kicked a june bug’s ass in the bathroom.

8.10 - Coconut Party


8.10.08
Once again my one and only free day a week is coming to a close and I feel the urge to write based on three separate things that are churning the emotions inside me. One: Tomorrow I begin my first day of practicum teaching, and I am so nervous that I could barely enjoy the delicious beef stew with fresh French bread that I was served this evening (and served, and served, and served…) at my friend’s house. Two: I finally had the ultimate pleasure of hearing my mother and my grandmother’s voice as I left my wonderful beef stew and a mass of Khmer people to answer my phone with all the joy that could be expected from such an occasion. And of course, three: Cambodia is remarkably different than the good ole state of Iowa…and I may or may not have fallen in love.

You may be asking yourself, “Self, what is so different about Cambodia?” I’m going to make a vast generalization and guess that you probably have not stepped a single toe across the lovely country and seen the rice paddies, the village markets, or anything in between. I am thrilled to elaborate.

For one thing, Wal-Mart is (thankfully) a distant memory because no such thing exists here. Instead we have markets, which are a mass of people and goods and mud. I have not been able to stand up straight in the market in my village because the cloth ceiling hangs too low (and, let’s face it, I’m not that tall). You can buy everything you need at the market here – though there is somewhat of an art to shopping. No one person will sell everything you need at once, but if you make a few friends in a few trades…you’re set for good prices. Find a good friend in the plastics department. She (or he, but usually she) will sell you hangers and basins and almost anything you need to wash your clothes or your plates or yourself. It’s very useful to have a frequently shopped friend in the beauty department as well, so you can get your sabboo (soap) so that you can actually clean your clothes, or your plates or yourself, and you can add some accessories and sweet smelling perfumes to attract the mosquitoes! I recently made friends with a veggie seller…but friends in the plai me-an (such a delicious little fruit!!) and sao-mao (the bigger and sweeter cousin of the aforementioned fruit) are quite an asset. I’ve also found a tailor in a fellow trainee’s family, as well as a sweet seller from another trainee. Market life is chaos and a barang (French, or foreign, or white, or not Khmer) always makes the gossip mill start running. In fact, I bought some bread the other day and my friend Deidre knew how many loaves and at what time before class the next day. Other trainees hear about one another’s bathing and oral hygiene habits with all the intensity of the 6:00 news.

I have electricity, which means that I have a fan, and light, and…(this is where I picture suspenseful music from an old black and white horror flick)…Television. Although…this television does not play any classic movies, any of my favorite sitcoms, or news that I can make sense of. Instead, I have the pleasure of watching news in Khmer (with not always the best photojournalism for the language-impaired like me), watching Khmer karaoke music videos with usually sound or look similar (Which is how I imagine my mother feels about the hip hop that I may or may not blast throughout the house when I am home), and soap operas. I have watched so many soap operas – though I do guiltily enjoy the plots that I sort of understand, the Khmer dubbing from Korean or Chinese or Japanese, the blood that looks like the classic corn syrup mixture without the syrup. My favorite one is set back in ancient times and the women who star as pick-pocketing bad asses have beat up the men in the pale blue fabrics on more than one occasion.

I do not have running water here, though it is around. I bathe in a little bathroom with tile on the floors and a very large spider that I’ve been calling my friend (he eats the mosquitoes, after all). I use a plastic saucepan that makes me think of making mac and cheese and dump cool water over myself about three times a day…which I recently learned how to say in Khmer, thank you very much. I also use a cleverly named “squattie pottie” which is not (despite the mental picture in my head) a simple hole in the ground. It is also tiled, and the mechanics of flushing are much the same, except there’s no button to push. It’s very frugal with water I think.

The teenage Britney Spears is huge here and I saw her picture on a shampoo/hair dye/skin care box looking like she just sang the Baby One More Time song…one more time.

I dreamt about a washing machine last night.

Then I woke up and began washing my laundry in the buckets by the well. Side bar: Last week I wanted to do laundry and therefore brought out my clothes and began soaking them in a bucket by the well. It is a small well, back behind the house past the chicken coop and the trash pile. But then, as it does here, it began to rain suddenly and I made a mad dash for the house, leaving my clothes behind. Later, I notice a brood of strange young men walking haphazardly about the yard (in the rain, mind you). I was very curious and began to peek around trying to figure out what these 5-7 men in their twenties were doing around our compound, especially since my brother was inside the house…

As I continued to watch the men, who had moved their party to the well near my laundry, I noticed a few strange things. For one, they were standing out in the rain still. Two, they had began to drink coconut milk straight from the larger, green coconuts (in the rain). And three, one strange case was getting water from the well to pour all over himself as if he was taking a bath, and as if he wasn’t already drenched from the rain pouring down upon them. Later, after the still nameless (and one faceless because he was wearing his moto helmet) men left in the slow dash that only a Khmer man can perfect, one fellow stayed, and I peeked to watch him glance over his shoulder before he stripped off his shirt, slung a towel around his waist, and lost his pants and red bikini style underwear to lay on the line. This was not before I noticed that the glimmer around his waist was, in fact, a belly chain. It really matched his gold necklace and bracelet, though. Oh yeah and, by the way, if you have gained any insight from this story about Khmer men, please, please, please enlighten me...

I cannot remember the last time that I thought that 20 til 11 was late and far past bedtime, but it is certainly the case now. More Kampuchea (Cambodia to Cambodians) / USA differences are certainly on the way.

8.06.2008

A new home, new family, new village..........


8.5.08

I’ve been in Cambodia now for about 12 days, and yet I feel like I’ve been here for ages. The time here is so different – slower, calmer, more tranquil. I have, even with the PST training schedule, time to rest and take really good care of myself for the first time in a long time. I have the energy to take care of myself, the drive, and the resources (especially in the form of a super awesome PC Medical Officer named Linda and all the materials she gave us in our health kits). I eat three square meals a day, complete with rice and more rice, veggies and fresh meat, all with a delicious flavor that pleases me so much. Mom, you’ll be thrilled to know that there is garlic here and it is in most of the meals!!!

My family is so wonderful as well. I’ve been with them for about a week now, so we are getting to know one another. It is basically like Wilson Christmas every day…there are lots and lots of people around. Mom and Dad are both teachers, very sweet and very nice and very good-natured. They both try to feed me constantly, with a phrase that has become very ingrained in my brain…nyam bai…eat rice. Then there are my brothers and sister. The youngest two are my little sisters, Lea Kn-ow and Pe-ah, 14 and 16, and we joke around even though I can’t understand the majority of what they say and vice versa. They take care of lots of the housework, cooking, cleaning and so on – summer means free time for all around here (though there is a classroom in my house and every day around 4 and 5 a bunch of teens come to learn about math). There are a few daughters at University that I have yet to meet. Then a brother, Singliy, 24, who likes nothing more than playing around with his niece and watching the Khmer dubbed Japanese soap operas. Next another sister, Titya, who works at a local bank and speaks enough English to give me some new Khmer words. The oldest is Greban, who only visits with his wife to take care of the pigs here and lives by another PCT near the market. And last but not least, Bong Nang (Lucky older sister) who lives in the house with her husband and 5 children…oh yeah, 5. Two boys, three girls, the youngest of which is so cute and just trying to walk. She always addresses me as “you” whenever she speaks to me, one of the very few English words that she knows. English just isn’t easy to come by here.

It’s very different to have so many people here…but I like is a lot. And the house is wonderful. Lots of space, a comfy bed, baby duckies, chickens, dogs, a cat, a hammock, and electricity. What more could you need? It is also pretty informal around here, a fact which I have come to appreciate considering some of the things that I hear from other volunteers. I’m getting along for sure. Learning the language, which is very hard…my mouth just doesn’t understand the sounds of the Khmer language. Making some friends, knowing the town. The Tonle Sap River is about 3 kilos outside of my town, so I’ve biked there twice and enjoyed the sights of the rice paddies and the rural lifestyle. It is so green and so beautiful.

I’m missing everyone dearly but doing so well in my new family. I can do laundry pretty well, and I’m learning how to cook. I have also found waffles and bread and chocolate. Life is good. I have been craving some bruschetta or spaghetti sauce, though, so if anyone knows a good recipe…

New Day, New dolla



7. 26.08
Right now I am listening to the sweet sounds of Quinn and Adrian playing their respective guitar and violin, harmonizing so wonderfully as we enjoy the post-rain evening out on our veranda. We’re all just sitting and enjoying (except for Greg, who is break-dancing in the hallway…he’s the resident Buddhist vegetarian b-boy Iowan…) There are crickets in the background, and another wonderful Khmer meal in my tummy. Tonight, after our basketball court soccer game, I ate some ginger chicken and barbecue chicken on a stick. There was tuk thai, or tea, and bai, or rice, and all kinds of very tasty food.

I’m finding a niche here though. Slowly, but I feel it happening. I’m sitting here in my sarong, enjoying the lovely night and the companionship. I also had a major achievement today; I bought a hat. I realize that to most that that is not much of a celebratory event, but I don’t know numbers past 19, and anything that I would pay for would be in Khmer riel, and therefore at least 500 or 1000 for something. FYI: 4000 is one single dollar and I have paid nothing more than 8,000 for any given meal that I have eaten, and the food is organic and more delicious than anything here in the states. I also speak no useful vending Khmer, so asking ‘how much’ and other sorts of things is not possible. Plus, there is very little English here, and my worse-than-childlike Khmer is not usually understood. Even against all these odds, though, I bought a hat. I went to a local vendor, said hello, and picked out the one that I liked as the rain began to pour. I also bought some laundry soap, which was a lovely adventure with the same woman, strangely still in her bathing sarong with her shoulders bare. I must have been that exciting…because it is extremely rare for a woman to bare her shoulders here, especially after bathing. It is a lovely straw hat with a big green bow and a blue rim. It was also just 4000 riel.

It is a very strange experience to be on time with the sun. I thought my dad was always crazy for being up at 5, but I am beginning to wonder if it is more positive to do so. I see the sunrise, enjoy the cool air, and generally do a lot more when I am awake so early. Plus, I am safe from the more frightening nighttimes here and can enjoy the other volunteers, my new pseudo-family members. I’m trying to remember why I ever wanted to sleep in until 12 the next day. It must be the new crowd of people. In fact, its about 10 30 and the bed a few feet away is sounding pretty darn good. I have to wake up tomorrow and begin the adventures of laundering my own clothing. It should be quite a fun time.

Another First Day!


7.25.08
Things to know:
The rainbows here are out of this world. Both times that it has rained and the clouds have cleared at sunset rainbows break out in pairs in the sky and they go all the way across. Pots of gold to be had by all (if there were any Irishmen here!)
Khmer children are the most fun I have ever had. Our first day at our training site brought a few little boys anxious to show us their bike tricks as they rode back and forth in front of the gate and waved and smiled and said “hello.” Most people say hello to us whenever we walk around – it is a pretty popular phrase, along with, “okay!” I also heard an LCF (Language and cultural facilitator) say, “Fo’ Shizzle.” Another day, during a rain, a few children were out playing and they caught me snapping their picture. They ran inside, suddenly shy, and waved and danced and stared at me, smiled all the time. The younger kids, though, the toddlers – very unhappy reactions to the barang trying to say hi to them.

Soccer on sand is immensely difficult, though the Khmer LCFs are basically pros in disguise. And Quinn should not be allowed to kick a ball at full force at a 5’0” les-than-100-pound woman.

Have I mentioned that the food here is amazing? And cheap!

Part of our XC (Cross-cultural) training today was an exploration into the world of non-indoor plumbing and running water. We observed our LCFs acting out how to wash clothing, eat (there are lots of rules about seating and the order in which food is served), sleep (with nets and bugs), bathe and …um….wash ourselves are using the toilet. One of the LCFs mocked the cry of roosters as he rose for the ‘morning.’ One LCF mimicked the act of washing himself, blushing and giggling the entire time, and we figured out how to tie our new sarongs around us.

Elections are in full force now. With three main parties and a smattering of other people running, the campaigns are intense. Today we saw a party with a parade kilometers long – full of uniformed men in trucks and loud music blaring from awful loudspeakers. It is quite the event, although there is likely to be no major upsets in the governmental seats. Training today was interrupted several times by these loud trucks and campaigns running the streets, as was the breakfast that I enjoyed bright and early this morning.

On a sadder note, I visited the market today and a very young boy was begging for money from me, silently, a site that was very sad and very surreal for me. PC has advised us not to give anything to anyone on the streets, so all we could do was look and ignore, a very uncomfortable feeling. Also, the dogs here are sadly underfed and underloved. While eating dinner, Quinn made friends with ‘Angelina Jolie’ and all the time he pet her she was wary of a kick or a slap or a stick or a rock…

I can feel that things are adjusting. The past few days remind me of freshman orientation in college, which has become a bit of a blur in my mind. Being so tired and anxious and stressed messes with your memory perhaps. But as I relax and enjoy, I feel like the adjustments are coming and adaptations are already being made. I’m not as tired today, I wasn’t as hot, the food is tasting very good, and the language is … on its way. I’m still taking the experience on a day-to-day basis, but it’s on its way to natural.

The first days!!!!


7.24.08
I made it. After an uneventful, though thoroughly tiring trip, I am finally here in Cambodia. The K2 class, along with our luggage and anxieties and bubbling excitement, left the lovely Kabuki hotel early on Monday morning, flying 11 and some odd hours to Tokyo, then another 6 to Bangkok. Bangkok airport staff received us at the airport and we were taken through the bustling passport control before getting a bus that took us to a gorgeous 5-star hotel. By the time we reached the hotel, though, it was about 1:00 in the morning. I gave my tired body a long, hot shower and then took a quick nap before rising to be downstairs by 5. Then we were off to Phnom Penh.

The airplane ride to Phnom Penh was wonderful. Even though the flight was no more than an hour, we were served a huge meal, complete with cold duck and noodles, juice, water, tea, coffee, rolls and a little green jello-like dessert with cheese on top. They served the meal while our plane was still on the incline and practically threw our food to us because of the time restraints. I looked out the window as we reached the airport though, and the rice paddies are as beautiful as they look. A lovely sight.

As we walked off the plane we were greeted by a couple of staff members, then by a huge group of staff and PCVs with banners and fans that they gave us as gifts. We snapped a few pictures and then drove off to the next hotel, a little place in PP. Now, a day later, I am laying in a bed in a guest house in our training hub site. Here, unlike in the other hotels, there is no AC, no toilet paper, and no bathtub. I feel like I have been gradually adjusting to the lack of amenities since San Francisco and I am grateful for that. What is that proverb about the frog and the boiling water? Replace that with extreme humid heat and I am that frog (except for that whole dead part…).

We’ve been asked a few times what our initial reactions are to Cambodia. Hot. But that fan that they gave us is lovely and works wonders. Fantastic Food. Although I’ve yet to get used to a lot of the food here, there is rice and stir-fry and fruit and tea, and at the moment, it is my own personal heaven. Happy People. They smile and the entire country lights up. Plus, we met a few young boys who were so thrilled to meet the barangs and it was beyond adorable. The staff and the PCVs and basically everyone that I have met have been wonderful. Have I mentioned hot yet? The countryside is so pretty, and we saw a few very vivid rainbows after the rains today. I wish I knew the Khmer word for fantastic because Cambodia is that and so much more.

One notable thing from PP was a cruise on the Mekong river. Stunning and great food and good company and dancing as I have never seen dancing before. We were told that the graceful hand and arm movements the women perform are a way to combat the heat while in traditional, semi-arm restricting clothing. They delicately move their hands and arms slowly, gracefully, deliberately, and the way of life is like a dance as well.