It has been one year since I left my mom and grandma in the Des Moines International Airport and jetted off to my new life here in Cambodia. And, as our new shirts say.... we can go no farther than this. I am around the world. I can barely believe it; the time has gone by so fast, even though the days themselves often seem long and lazy. And there is so much to say about a year here…
I’ve gotten to know this place, this tiny Southeast Asian country sandwiched between quickly developing countries though doing very little developing itself. I know that Siem Reap, the province with the famous temples, is one of the poorest provinces despite the massive tourism draw that it brings. I know that most of the country is more rural than Iowa and that the cities aren’t equipped to handle the number of people in them. I know that the barang population is substantial, though I wouldn’t want to be around the majority of them. And, I know that this place continually surprises me when I least expect it – mostly, I’ve found, by showing me how little I know about where I live, or how to live here, or the people who have mastered the art of living here…
But even still, I do feel like I know my way around. I can travel with n
o trouble and I know the language well enough to figure out what I need to (especially with my family, since they understand that special blend of words that I call Khmer and take the time to figure out what I am trying to express instead of just what I am saying). And with each visitor that I meet from abroad, be it friends of family, I gradually learn just how ingrained certain aspects of the culture have become… When Dan’s mom was here, Deidre and I slipped off our flip-flops to enter a market stall out of pure habit; I feel like I’ve spent half of my time here barefoot, something that I fully intend to bring back with me. Deidre’s twin remarked on how unusual the breakfasts of hot noodle soup or rice with pork and pickled veggies is, though I quite enjoy both of these meals and have since forgotten the greasy feasts I had back home. I’m sure that my mom will open my eyes to even more things that I have grown accustomed to and the ways that I have changed…
After a year of service here, I feel like a changed woman. I’ve had more time, and more opportunity, to think and reflect than I’ve ever had before. There’s no TV to drain the life
out of me for hours at a time, no college work to draw me in 20 different directions, little occasion or desire to indulge in retail therapy, and so much waiting that my mind has gone into overdrive thinking of ways to spend my time. The barang population in my area is small and tight-knit, and we talk, and talk, and talk… about anything and everything. I’ve read a book for every week I’ve been here… from Lolita to Eat Pray Love. I’ve also begun to see myself differently, because the woman in the mirror is 70 pounds lighter than the one that I saw a year ago. Dan and Deidre laughed at me the other day, I tried on a shirt that Dei’s mom sent her and had an irrational show of joy because it fit me… and it was a size small. A new body, a new culture, a new crowd of people… it is impossible to not change. 
I’m even learning about cultures that I didn’t expect to – I can now make Irish potato cakes and have learned that the Brits have very different dessert customs than the Americans. Did you know that they eat Jell-o (well, they say Jelly) with ice cream and cake without ice cream (supposedly because their cakes have filling that makes ice cream unnecessary). In fact, for being pretty similar in people, in language, in tradition… the American Volunteers and British/Irish Volunteers can find a lot of differences to talk about. I never thought that I would get such a broad scope of experiences here!
Speaking of experien
ces, you have never lived until you have gotten drunk with a group of yieys (grandmas) from this culture – they are the coolest. And, my grandma is (by far) the coolest person in my host family, with her sniff kisses and her smile with her prominent front teeth, and her odd repetitions of English words that I say and actions that I do, and her cheering whenever I dance to the music in my iPod. You should also attend a Khmer party and dance in a circle, just to see how many drunk men lose their inhibitions and try to hit on you. Or, get in a jump roping competition with a 14 year old boy who doesn’t really know how to jump rope. Or, watch your little brother go through a big bottle of bubbles in a matter of days. Or, find some very cute Khmer children who like you and watch them smile every day (my favorite one is at the restaurant where I usually eat breakfast in the mornings). Or, pass the day with a book in a hammock. Or, go to a house party full of barangs from different places and share food like banoffee pie (Banana + Toffee) and games like pass the parcel (Or, Paarss the Paarcul) while you tease one another about accent and common slang or word usage (this occupies a majority of our time). Or, just get back to the simple life – and love it.
There is too much to say about a year here – too much happens in too little a time, even though it seems that time stands still. Cambodia feels like it is suspended in air, like they are waiting for something to happen that never will. And I feel similarly, as I try to change the habits
of a few people… nothing ever really seems to… I can only hope that at the end of my 2 years that I will see something from my efforts. We will see – One more year to go!
In short…
Things I miss
-Grandma’s cooking and the smell of her kitchen on Sunday morning.
-Driving.
-Dairy products.
-NPR Radio.
-Snow… even though it will brutally readjust me to an Iowa climate.
Things I don’t miss
-Wal-Mart.
-Advertisements.
-Commercialism.
Things I want to bring back
-The idea of a Water Closet, a big room where water splashing is perfectly acceptable.
-My yiey.
-Living with a breeze always flowing through the house.
-Long bike rides through rice paddies and energy for exercise.
-Family style dining (ie sharing a few main dishes with only a personal bowl of rice).
-Shoe-free zones.
Things I don’t want to bring back
-The word, “Hello,” which is screamed at me constantly no matter what I do to try to escape it.
-Incessant stares while I do the most menial of tasks.
-Ants that eat: cotton swabs, plum foot scrub, light sockets, underwear, me, peanut butter, computer guts, trash, raincoats, and medicine.
-My current ignorance of all cultural trends of the Western World.
I’ve gotten to know this place, this tiny Southeast Asian country sandwiched between quickly developing countries though doing very little developing itself. I know that Siem Reap, the province with the famous temples, is one of the poorest provinces despite the massive tourism draw that it brings. I know that most of the country is more rural than Iowa and that the cities aren’t equipped to handle the number of people in them. I know that the barang population is substantial, though I wouldn’t want to be around the majority of them. And, I know that this place continually surprises me when I least expect it – mostly, I’ve found, by showing me how little I know about where I live, or how to live here, or the people who have mastered the art of living here…
But even still, I do feel like I know my way around. I can travel with n
o trouble and I know the language well enough to figure out what I need to (especially with my family, since they understand that special blend of words that I call Khmer and take the time to figure out what I am trying to express instead of just what I am saying). And with each visitor that I meet from abroad, be it friends of family, I gradually learn just how ingrained certain aspects of the culture have become… When Dan’s mom was here, Deidre and I slipped off our flip-flops to enter a market stall out of pure habit; I feel like I’ve spent half of my time here barefoot, something that I fully intend to bring back with me. Deidre’s twin remarked on how unusual the breakfasts of hot noodle soup or rice with pork and pickled veggies is, though I quite enjoy both of these meals and have since forgotten the greasy feasts I had back home. I’m sure that my mom will open my eyes to even more things that I have grown accustomed to and the ways that I have changed…After a year of service here, I feel like a changed woman. I’ve had more time, and more opportunity, to think and reflect than I’ve ever had before. There’s no TV to drain the life
out of me for hours at a time, no college work to draw me in 20 different directions, little occasion or desire to indulge in retail therapy, and so much waiting that my mind has gone into overdrive thinking of ways to spend my time. The barang population in my area is small and tight-knit, and we talk, and talk, and talk… about anything and everything. I’ve read a book for every week I’ve been here… from Lolita to Eat Pray Love. I’ve also begun to see myself differently, because the woman in the mirror is 70 pounds lighter than the one that I saw a year ago. Dan and Deidre laughed at me the other day, I tried on a shirt that Dei’s mom sent her and had an irrational show of joy because it fit me… and it was a size small. A new body, a new culture, a new crowd of people… it is impossible to not change. 
I’m even learning about cultures that I didn’t expect to – I can now make Irish potato cakes and have learned that the Brits have very different dessert customs than the Americans. Did you know that they eat Jell-o (well, they say Jelly) with ice cream and cake without ice cream (supposedly because their cakes have filling that makes ice cream unnecessary). In fact, for being pretty similar in people, in language, in tradition… the American Volunteers and British/Irish Volunteers can find a lot of differences to talk about. I never thought that I would get such a broad scope of experiences here!
Speaking of experien
ces, you have never lived until you have gotten drunk with a group of yieys (grandmas) from this culture – they are the coolest. And, my grandma is (by far) the coolest person in my host family, with her sniff kisses and her smile with her prominent front teeth, and her odd repetitions of English words that I say and actions that I do, and her cheering whenever I dance to the music in my iPod. You should also attend a Khmer party and dance in a circle, just to see how many drunk men lose their inhibitions and try to hit on you. Or, get in a jump roping competition with a 14 year old boy who doesn’t really know how to jump rope. Or, watch your little brother go through a big bottle of bubbles in a matter of days. Or, find some very cute Khmer children who like you and watch them smile every day (my favorite one is at the restaurant where I usually eat breakfast in the mornings). Or, pass the day with a book in a hammock. Or, go to a house party full of barangs from different places and share food like banoffee pie (Banana + Toffee) and games like pass the parcel (Or, Paarss the Paarcul) while you tease one another about accent and common slang or word usage (this occupies a majority of our time). Or, just get back to the simple life – and love it.There is too much to say about a year here – too much happens in too little a time, even though it seems that time stands still. Cambodia feels like it is suspended in air, like they are waiting for something to happen that never will. And I feel similarly, as I try to change the habits
of a few people… nothing ever really seems to… I can only hope that at the end of my 2 years that I will see something from my efforts. We will see – One more year to go!In short…
Things I miss
-Grandma’s cooking and the smell of her kitchen on Sunday morning.
-Driving.
-Dairy products.
-NPR Radio.
-Snow… even though it will brutally readjust me to an Iowa climate.
Things I don’t miss
-Wal-Mart.
-Advertisements.
-Commercialism.
Things I want to bring back
-The idea of a Water Closet, a big room where water splashing is perfectly acceptable.
-My yiey.
-Living with a breeze always flowing through the house.
-Long bike rides through rice paddies and energy for exercise.
-Family style dining (ie sharing a few main dishes with only a personal bowl of rice).
-Shoe-free zones.
Things I don’t want to bring back
-The word, “Hello,” which is screamed at me constantly no matter what I do to try to escape it.
-Incessant stares while I do the most menial of tasks.
-Ants that eat: cotton swabs, plum foot scrub, light sockets, underwear, me, peanut butter, computer guts, trash, raincoats, and medicine.
-My current ignorance of all cultural trends of the Western World.
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