I just bought a few new albums from our local Boom Boom Room, aka the place where digital albums are a dollar and there are thousands of choices. I thought I would share this with the world, as it has made my most recent bus trip a little more bearable.
1. Jay-Z - Blueprint 3
2. Outkast - Idlewild (Movie Soundtrack)
3. Santogold - Santogold
4. Keri Hilson - In a Perfect World
5. Nas - Greatest Hits
6. Handsome Boy Modeling School - So...How's your girl
Just a few of the things running through my ipod right now as I also download some new podcasts about health, vocabulary, and trivia.
9.23.2009
9.21.2009
All about the summer....
It has been quite a summer! So exciting, in fact, that I barely know where to begin… although I think I may go backwards from this very moment.
At this precise moment, I am sitting in the living room of the apartment at the Himawari Hotel, where I stayed on my lovely Fourth of July adventure. Melissa, my host, was kind enough to let me back into her apartment, taking some pity on my Peace Corps lifestyle. So, I’m living it up – calling friends, doing laundry (in a machine!), baking, and playing with Wii and wifi and TV and all those goofy conveniences that have escaped me for the past year. It’s great – I feel very pampered and it thrills me to have all of these things so readily available.
I just came to Phnom Penh yesterday. We came in to celebrate Dan’s birthday. He is now, officially, 30… which was very exciting for us. I rushed to bake a yellow cake with chocolate frosting for him, and we spelled out the word “old” with the candles. It’s our running joke as he is the oldest in the province. Our little party consisted of some good Italian food, a cake that we brought out to the Khmer birthday song, and a good selection of friends: Deidre, Anthony, Matt, Adrian, and of course, Dan! And then we went out to a dance bar and taught Adrian some moves while Matt got h
it on by some tiny Khmer ladies… all in all, a lovely evening!We did rush the birthday cake a bit… Dan, Deidre and I just came back from a Kampot and beach adventure. Talk about relaxing! Two days in the capital of lazy Kampot province, relaxing by the river with fish and chips and barbeque, walking around the little town and seeing the sights, having fun with some children at the pagoda, and seeing a new pace with new people. We found our way to Rabbit Island, after a lovely boat ride in the Gulf of Thailand and relaxed on a beach for a night of bliss. I had my first plate of crab, which I thought was delicious, learned how to devour fresh fish, which I liked, tried some squid, which I wasn’t a big fan of, and de
voured some fried prawns, which were damn tasty… My east coast/west coast friends taught me the nuances of getting to crab meat without any cracking tools and the fine art of dining on prawns and whole fish. We swam, we laid out, we read books, and I got a true vacation.Vacation from what, you may ask? Well, my big project this summer has been Camp GLOW (Girls Leading Our World)… Basically, it is a 3 day workshop for fifteen g
rade 10 girls focused on leadership, careers and scholarships for the future, and self-confidence, something which the girls here are lacking a little. We held our first camp in Banteay Meanchey, my province, and it was beyond successful. And now, we have another camp in Pursat this week! It’s been a thrilling project, $3000 of fun, and I am so happy with the results. I’m also happy with the TEFL Manual for fellow Volunteers and the training that I presented it at, as well as the travelling that I’ve had the pleasure of doing, and with the career workshop that the BM crew put together!
I travelled with my mother! And how exciting life was; I’m pretty sure she had a good time, despite the water rooms with butt blasters and the ridiculous heat. Life was perfect – in Bangkok, our teary eyed reunion…to Sway, our first Cambodia experience…to Thmar Puok, where we got the full rural tour…to Siem Reap, full of temples and tasty food…to Battambang, for birthdays at Riverside and high mountains…to Phnom Penh, the bustling capital, full of life and fun…to Kampong Tralach, where families love their host kids’ friends…and back to Phnom Penh for more shopping, more entertainment, and another teary eyed goodbye offset only by Deidre’s presence. It was easily the best two weeks ever… and my whole family is dying for her to come back.
So, that’s been the past few months, minus a few details of course. Life is good, and my summer feels fulfilled in a way I never expected. I love this place and I am so happy to have shared it…
8.02.2009
A Year In Review
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.
7.15.2009
The Fourth of July!
Independence Day
Like Christmas and Thanksgiving and Easter, I have never in my life done anything different for this holiday – that is, not until this year. And I was not disappointed. For this year, on my nation’s birthday, I had the honor of singing the National Anthem (of Cambodia) for two very different parties at the Embassy – which means that I was invited to and enjoyed two different parties at the Embassy.
But I will start at the beginning. On the 2nd of July, my buddy Deidre and I too
k the very long bus ride down to Phnom Penh from our provincial town. Neither of us are in the provincial town, and with the rainy season destroying the road, it takes me about 1½ hours to get from my home to Sway. Deidre, with her new road, only needs about 20 minutes to make the same trip. But it takes both of us about 7 hours to get down to the Penh.
Almost as soon as we got in, we went to the Peace Corps office and jetted on to the Embassy for a rehearsal – this was more fun than it sounds, because the five of us (myself, Deidre, Mat
t from Kampot, Lydia from K. Cham, and Steph from Siem Reap) we so excited to be on American soil, especially when it was decorated so well. The whole courtyard was a splash of red white and blue and the stage had carpet on it. We went through the program with the embassy staff and ended up at our homestay…
Now when I first heard the word ‘homestay,’ I began to think of the houses that the Peace Corps staff have – Cheryl, my boss, has a gorgeous home, with all the amenities of home that I am no longer accustomed to (See: oven, kitchen utensils, AC, TV in English, carpet, furniture, etc, etc, etc). This blew away all of my expectations. Our homestay happened to be with a person who stays in a hotel – the Himawari hotel – arguably one of the ni
cest hotels in the country (See: pool, sauna, fitness room, buffet breakfast with bacon, eggs, toast, OJ, oatmeal, and then some, kimono robes, Bath and Body Works toiletries, fluffy towels… Plus our host had Wii and excellent cooking skills). We were in heaven, and that is not an understatement. This is one of the nicest places I have ever been in (ever!), let alone coming from a simple life in the Cambodian countryside.
I could go on and on, I’m sure, but I’ll progress to the party. After getting our hair done at a salon, the four gals got dressed, picked up our solitary male, and headed over to the Embassy in our fancy white Khmer shirts and traditional skirts. It was even more decorated than the day before, with tables set up throughout the area, a Statue of Liberty ice sculpture, and food stations everywhere. I should elaborate, perhaps – Free food stations. But we’ll get to that later.
We sang our song, which was beautiful, watched the marines, took some photos, met the Ambassador and chatted, met some other people from the Embassy, talked with our host (Melissa, FBI), and generally enjoyed the ambiance. We dug in to the food – a buffet with all kinds of foods – and stuffed ourselves full. We also enjoyed the free Swenson’s ice cream and the (prepare yourself) chocolate fountain with the strawberries, muffin bits, kiwi and grapes that accompanied it. Oh – did I mention that there was free liquor? Glass by glass, the white wine disappeared, usually to th
e group that surrounded the chocolate fountain.
We ended the night by heading over to the nicest bar in the city (in the Raffles hotel), where a kind RPCV and his friend, in town write a book about Cambodia, bought us all drinks and told us stories of the old days…
The Next Day
Breakfast – I have to reminisce – fluffy scrambled eggs with onions and peppers, cocoa peppers, apple juice, mocha, bacon, cheese, toast and jam, mmmmmm…..
After some chill time in the hotel, we went on to our second engagement. We were looking sharp in new white shirts and our jeans, and went in like rock stars through the back entrance of the building. We sang our song as the Marines presented the colors again, and then we enjoyed the party.
I’ll set the scene for this one: food stands throughout the yard, with barbeque, Mexican, and any number of other semi-American things, Coke included, for sale; hot dog eating contest (which was won by one of the colo
r-presenting marines as his leader cheered him on); a band with a gal in heels and a corset top and two boys singing American tunes (one of the boys kept winking at us the night before, and was very nice); children with blond hair (you may need to visit before you understand the rarity of said sight); American flag sheet cake; circus people (jugglers, tumblers, clowns, and the like… from the NGO circus in Battambang); English-speakers as far as the eye could see; Barack Obama mask; and some pretty cool Peace Corps Volunteers.
It was perfect. There was no parade, no pancakes, none of my family, but this was the best place to be besides back at home.
And then…
Upon returning to the hotel, I joined Deidre and some of the other girls for a night out on the town in celebration of Deidre’s birthday! We ate tapas at a place near the office, went out to a loungey bar, and went dancing, and life was good once again…
Like Christmas and Thanksgiving and Easter, I have never in my life done anything different for this holiday – that is, not until this year. And I was not disappointed. For this year, on my nation’s birthday, I had the honor of singing the National Anthem (of Cambodia) for two very different parties at the Embassy – which means that I was invited to and enjoyed two different parties at the Embassy.
But I will start at the beginning. On the 2nd of July, my buddy Deidre and I too
k the very long bus ride down to Phnom Penh from our provincial town. Neither of us are in the provincial town, and with the rainy season destroying the road, it takes me about 1½ hours to get from my home to Sway. Deidre, with her new road, only needs about 20 minutes to make the same trip. But it takes both of us about 7 hours to get down to the Penh.Almost as soon as we got in, we went to the Peace Corps office and jetted on to the Embassy for a rehearsal – this was more fun than it sounds, because the five of us (myself, Deidre, Mat
t from Kampot, Lydia from K. Cham, and Steph from Siem Reap) we so excited to be on American soil, especially when it was decorated so well. The whole courtyard was a splash of red white and blue and the stage had carpet on it. We went through the program with the embassy staff and ended up at our homestay…Now when I first heard the word ‘homestay,’ I began to think of the houses that the Peace Corps staff have – Cheryl, my boss, has a gorgeous home, with all the amenities of home that I am no longer accustomed to (See: oven, kitchen utensils, AC, TV in English, carpet, furniture, etc, etc, etc). This blew away all of my expectations. Our homestay happened to be with a person who stays in a hotel – the Himawari hotel – arguably one of the ni
cest hotels in the country (See: pool, sauna, fitness room, buffet breakfast with bacon, eggs, toast, OJ, oatmeal, and then some, kimono robes, Bath and Body Works toiletries, fluffy towels… Plus our host had Wii and excellent cooking skills). We were in heaven, and that is not an understatement. This is one of the nicest places I have ever been in (ever!), let alone coming from a simple life in the Cambodian countryside. I could go on and on, I’m sure, but I’ll progress to the party. After getting our hair done at a salon, the four gals got dressed, picked up our solitary male, and headed over to the Embassy in our fancy white Khmer shirts and traditional skirts. It was even more decorated than the day before, with tables set up throughout the area, a Statue of Liberty ice sculpture, and food stations everywhere. I should elaborate, perhaps – Free food stations. But we’ll get to that later.
We sang our song, which was beautiful, watched the marines, took some photos, met the Ambassador and chatted, met some other people from the Embassy, talked with our host (Melissa, FBI), and generally enjoyed the ambiance. We dug in to the food – a buffet with all kinds of foods – and stuffed ourselves full. We also enjoyed the free Swenson’s ice cream and the (prepare yourself) chocolate fountain with the strawberries, muffin bits, kiwi and grapes that accompanied it. Oh – did I mention that there was free liquor? Glass by glass, the white wine disappeared, usually to th
e group that surrounded the chocolate fountain.We ended the night by heading over to the nicest bar in the city (in the Raffles hotel), where a kind RPCV and his friend, in town write a book about Cambodia, bought us all drinks and told us stories of the old days…
The Next Day
Breakfast – I have to reminisce – fluffy scrambled eggs with onions and peppers, cocoa peppers, apple juice, mocha, bacon, cheese, toast and jam, mmmmmm…..
After some chill time in the hotel, we went on to our second engagement. We were looking sharp in new white shirts and our jeans, and went in like rock stars through the back entrance of the building. We sang our song as the Marines presented the colors again, and then we enjoyed the party.
I’ll set the scene for this one: food stands throughout the yard, with barbeque, Mexican, and any number of other semi-American things, Coke included, for sale; hot dog eating contest (which was won by one of the colo
r-presenting marines as his leader cheered him on); a band with a gal in heels and a corset top and two boys singing American tunes (one of the boys kept winking at us the night before, and was very nice); children with blond hair (you may need to visit before you understand the rarity of said sight); American flag sheet cake; circus people (jugglers, tumblers, clowns, and the like… from the NGO circus in Battambang); English-speakers as far as the eye could see; Barack Obama mask; and some pretty cool Peace Corps Volunteers.
It was perfect. There was no parade, no pancakes, none of my family, but this was the best place to be besides back at home.
And then…
Upon returning to the hotel, I joined Deidre and some of the other girls for a night out on the town in celebration of Deidre’s birthday! We ate tapas at a place near the office, went out to a loungey bar, and went dancing, and life was good once again…
6.20.2009
Bike Ride to Banteay Torp
It would seem that some awesome ancient civilizations liked the area that I now live in… Between Banteay Chhmar, which I’ve written about, about 16 km from my home, the little temple ruins in my own town (complete with Hindu elephant) and this other temple, Banteay Torp, about 13 km from my home, there is a lot to see. They are trying to rebuild part of Banteay Chhmar and turn it into a UNESCO World He
ritage Site, therefore putting it on the heavily toured areas of Cambodia, granted they will need to fix the road first. But Banteay Torp is pretty cool as well, and far more remote.
So I started out in the
morning for a nice bike ride up to this temple. I was determined to find it. I rode north, on the road of hell (this isn’t an exaggeration… and you need to experience it to believe me) for about 10 km before I saw the typical gateway proclaiming a temple to the right. I turned and kept going for another 2-3 km, finding a pagoda, a primary school, a massive lake, and very interested rice farmers as I went on. I barely saw the turn off for the temple because it is old and well disguised at the base of a hill, but I turned, and rode a bit more, and all of a sudde
n I saw this pile of rocks rise up out of nowhere.
It was incredible – a silent temple, somewhat destroyed like Banteay Chhmar and much smaller, yet still structurally intact. There are still carvings intact, and the different colored stones shimmer in the sun. I climbed around the 4 different towers and even got followed by some young boys investigating the foreigner.
Amazing. And I must say, the people there were great. I got hellos from a group of women transplanting rice and went down to greet them - very lovely farming folk! What was less amazing was when I got a flat tire in the middle of the ride back to the main road
. The roads down to the temple and back from it were a little bumpy and steep, so I can’t say I’m that surprised, but it was mighty inconvenient. But, I went to the nearest repair shop where I paid a whopping 25 cents to get my tire fixed before I went on home to have pineapple stir fry with my grandma.
ritage Site, therefore putting it on the heavily toured areas of Cambodia, granted they will need to fix the road first. But Banteay Torp is pretty cool as well, and far more remote.So I started out in the
morning for a nice bike ride up to this temple. I was determined to find it. I rode north, on the road of hell (this isn’t an exaggeration… and you need to experience it to believe me) for about 10 km before I saw the typical gateway proclaiming a temple to the right. I turned and kept going for another 2-3 km, finding a pagoda, a primary school, a massive lake, and very interested rice farmers as I went on. I barely saw the turn off for the temple because it is old and well disguised at the base of a hill, but I turned, and rode a bit more, and all of a sudde
n I saw this pile of rocks rise up out of nowhere.It was incredible – a silent temple, somewhat destroyed like Banteay Chhmar and much smaller, yet still structurally intact. There are still carvings intact, and the different colored stones shimmer in the sun. I climbed around the 4 different towers and even got followed by some young boys investigating the foreigner.
Amazing. And I must say, the people there were great. I got hellos from a group of women transplanting rice and went down to greet them - very lovely farming folk! What was less amazing was when I got a flat tire in the middle of the ride back to the main road
. The roads down to the temple and back from it were a little bumpy and steep, so I can’t say I’m that surprised, but it was mighty inconvenient. But, I went to the nearest repair shop where I paid a whopping 25 cents to get my tire fixed before I went on home to have pineapple stir fry with my grandma. 
6.06.2009
This is eventful to me!
It is a normal Thursday, to be sure: A completely average school day which should have lasted until 11 but quit around 9:30 due to the absence of teachers, or rather, their absence from the classroom in light of other more exciting activities on school grounds. I gave some oral exams, had some kids ogle over pictures of the Midwest that I brought (they think that the downtown river area of Omaha and the view from the Knoxville exit on the way to my grandmas are particularly beautiful, and they love the picture of my on the bridge of the big cement block known as my college theatre. They think that the picture I have of Sarah and Grant’s wedding is me in disguise and the concept of slides and playground equipment is more than foreign. And even though they have never heard of baseball, the Orioles stadium is very pretty – note said photos in this blog). This is fairly common – Khmer people Love pictures with a capital L, both when it is people that they know and when it is people that they don’t. It was uncommon, though, to watch 4 full grown Khmer men, teachers, plaster tiny circle stickers with pictures of butterflies and ladybugs and flowers 
all over their cell phones. This just reinforces the ideas in my head that there is a different kind of ‘masculinity’ here.
And so I left school thinking about that kind of masculinity… not that I got very far… even though the boys here spend more time on their hair in one morning than I spend on my entire beauty (I use this word with caution) regime for a week, the older ones still want nothing to do with advice from a younger woman and my sister is suffering the same sort of crazy boy syndrome that seems to follow me in my relationships as well. We even ranted together at the lunch table and my sister professed her anger (an extraordinary event, for Kh
mer women to talk about their feelings and gossip and ask for advice…I actually gave the same advice that my buddy Deidre gave me last week in our ongoing discussions of the opposite sex).
And again, in my normally quiet time, after I played with a very chubby and happy baby at the local coffee house and sat back to enjoy my coffee with ice and condensed milk and the last few chapters of a hilarious Sedaris novel, I encountered not one, but two separate occasions of begging. Now, let me elaborate. Begging is not uncommon…in the city. I fully expect to be propositioned when I am in the middle of the market enjoying a bowl of noodles, or when I walk the streets of Phnom Penh, or traverse some of the more touristy areas of the country. But in my own town?? It is unheard of, so twice in one day is quite a record! No that they weren’t funny… the first was a small boy who obviously saw dollar signs on my white skin and stopped on his way back from the market to just see what would happen. And the second was a middle aged man who was holding more in his hand than I had on my person. In fact, since I just came over for a coffee, I only had 50 cents, and when he showed me the example of what he wanted (cash, just to clear that up), there was considerably more than I even had in cash anywhere. I told him this, in Khmer, and that I had
nothing else, and he refused to listen and badmouthed foreigners for a few minutes before stumbling out.
I think I mentioned in my last blog that it is rainy season. Today I found that it is sneaky, considering I left my house one minute, on a quest for snacks and noodles, and ended up in a torrential downpour that drove me into my cousins house for a solid 10 minutes and ruined the previously dry road with slippery mud that made me slide about and forced me to remove my shoes else they be sacrificed, stuck forever in the wet dirt. The rain turned my pleasant jaunt to and from the market into a challenging obstacle course complete with rivers, footprints that may be wider than they are long (quite a feat for me, as those of you who have gone shoe shopping with me can understand), and, as usual, the occasional pile of manure. I also had a follower, a young cousin
whose hair is just the same as mine and who talks to me in the simple child’s vocabulary that I can understand. Seyma escorted me to the market and back on her tiny bike and talked about her brother and baby sister and the mud and the rain. It was lovely and abnormal – even though they are no longer afraid of me, the children who know me are still a little hesitant about how cool I am… I’m trying to work on that, not always an easy feat when you were once the boogeyman.
I suppose I should mention that one other extraordinary event is that I have actually kept myself busy all day long – between stickers and coffee and ranting and market time and children and blogging and preparing for the rain, well… it’s been nice. Oh… and there was that whole daddy-long-legs-demolishing-a-fly-in-the-bathroom incident… that was pretty cool too.
all over their cell phones. This just reinforces the ideas in my head that there is a different kind of ‘masculinity’ here.And so I left school thinking about that kind of masculinity… not that I got very far… even though the boys here spend more time on their hair in one morning than I spend on my entire beauty (I use this word with caution) regime for a week, the older ones still want nothing to do with advice from a younger woman and my sister is suffering the same sort of crazy boy syndrome that seems to follow me in my relationships as well. We even ranted together at the lunch table and my sister professed her anger (an extraordinary event, for Kh
mer women to talk about their feelings and gossip and ask for advice…I actually gave the same advice that my buddy Deidre gave me last week in our ongoing discussions of the opposite sex).And again, in my normally quiet time, after I played with a very chubby and happy baby at the local coffee house and sat back to enjoy my coffee with ice and condensed milk and the last few chapters of a hilarious Sedaris novel, I encountered not one, but two separate occasions of begging. Now, let me elaborate. Begging is not uncommon…in the city. I fully expect to be propositioned when I am in the middle of the market enjoying a bowl of noodles, or when I walk the streets of Phnom Penh, or traverse some of the more touristy areas of the country. But in my own town?? It is unheard of, so twice in one day is quite a record! No that they weren’t funny… the first was a small boy who obviously saw dollar signs on my white skin and stopped on his way back from the market to just see what would happen. And the second was a middle aged man who was holding more in his hand than I had on my person. In fact, since I just came over for a coffee, I only had 50 cents, and when he showed me the example of what he wanted (cash, just to clear that up), there was considerably more than I even had in cash anywhere. I told him this, in Khmer, and that I had
nothing else, and he refused to listen and badmouthed foreigners for a few minutes before stumbling out.I think I mentioned in my last blog that it is rainy season. Today I found that it is sneaky, considering I left my house one minute, on a quest for snacks and noodles, and ended up in a torrential downpour that drove me into my cousins house for a solid 10 minutes and ruined the previously dry road with slippery mud that made me slide about and forced me to remove my shoes else they be sacrificed, stuck forever in the wet dirt. The rain turned my pleasant jaunt to and from the market into a challenging obstacle course complete with rivers, footprints that may be wider than they are long (quite a feat for me, as those of you who have gone shoe shopping with me can understand), and, as usual, the occasional pile of manure. I also had a follower, a young cousin
whose hair is just the same as mine and who talks to me in the simple child’s vocabulary that I can understand. Seyma escorted me to the market and back on her tiny bike and talked about her brother and baby sister and the mud and the rain. It was lovely and abnormal – even though they are no longer afraid of me, the children who know me are still a little hesitant about how cool I am… I’m trying to work on that, not always an easy feat when you were once the boogeyman.I suppose I should mention that one other extraordinary event is that I have actually kept myself busy all day long – between stickers and coffee and ranting and market time and children and blogging and preparing for the rain, well… it’s been nice. Oh… and there was that whole daddy-long-legs-demolishing-a-fly-in-the-bathroom incident… that was pretty cool too.
Fun Photos - 6-4-09
I decided to go biking after a particularly rainy day, my gears got stuck with mud and I got a little more than dirty… In addition to what you can see here, there were splatters of mud up my back, all over the front of my shorts and shirt, smears of it on my arms, and flakes of it on my face and in my hair. When I met up with a crew of my students in another village, they spent a good 10 minutes telling me how messy I was, another 5 cleaning up my brakes which were still a bit clogged, and probably a good hour after I left laughing at me and the pieces of mud that had found their way onto every surface of my body. I did get my bike washed the next day, granted it has rained and is now dirty once again.
Oftentimes, because one teacher teaches as many students want private clas
s as they have (it’s a main source of income for said teachers, so the more the merrier), some students end up looking in through the window after the room holds more desks than it ever has and those desks are packed with students 3 or 4 to a bench. I’m not sure I’ve ever mentioned it, but there really is no personal space bubble here. I see the boys leaping onto one another and cuddling on the benches throughout the day, and girls hold hands and link arms when they walk, sometimes hugging when I make them nervous by saying hello, and they stack up to make room for me when I go to breakfast in the morning, even after I tell them not to worry – its just the culture. Anyway, after they are packed in, the rest look from the windows… and here is a photo of that.
So, last week I taught the ‘funeral’ unit for the grade 12 class, and because my co-teacher was kind enough to leave me in the middle of first period for some work with the VSOs at the hospital (Vo
luntary Service Overseas… the Peace Corps of the rest of the world, HQed in the UK). I love my fellow VSOs, they are awesome and do fantastic work. I am, however less excited that this particular teacher gets paid a salary to work one day a week if in fact he does actually work that day. That is beside the point. Since I only see these students one day a week and their English isn’t incredible (because they don’t have regular instruction…), I decided to do a comparison of Khmer funerals and American funerals, at least what I could remember. I haven’t been to many funerals at home and I have forgotten a lot about what happens – After a year of living abroad, I am somewhat surprised to find out how much has slipped from my mind about my own culture. This is the board after that class…between the morbid (and useless) vocabulary, and the ideas that were inches away from slipping out of my students’ grasp (the graveyard, and what to do when it gets full; the potluck dinner, and the idea that others would bring food to a gathering; the color black, and why it should be worn to a religious event; communal singing; burial; and funeral homes), it was a pretty fun day.
Oftentimes, because one teacher teaches as many students want private clas
s as they have (it’s a main source of income for said teachers, so the more the merrier), some students end up looking in through the window after the room holds more desks than it ever has and those desks are packed with students 3 or 4 to a bench. I’m not sure I’ve ever mentioned it, but there really is no personal space bubble here. I see the boys leaping onto one another and cuddling on the benches throughout the day, and girls hold hands and link arms when they walk, sometimes hugging when I make them nervous by saying hello, and they stack up to make room for me when I go to breakfast in the morning, even after I tell them not to worry – its just the culture. Anyway, after they are packed in, the rest look from the windows… and here is a photo of that.So, last week I taught the ‘funeral’ unit for the grade 12 class, and because my co-teacher was kind enough to leave me in the middle of first period for some work with the VSOs at the hospital (Vo
luntary Service Overseas… the Peace Corps of the rest of the world, HQed in the UK). I love my fellow VSOs, they are awesome and do fantastic work. I am, however less excited that this particular teacher gets paid a salary to work one day a week if in fact he does actually work that day. That is beside the point. Since I only see these students one day a week and their English isn’t incredible (because they don’t have regular instruction…), I decided to do a comparison of Khmer funerals and American funerals, at least what I could remember. I haven’t been to many funerals at home and I have forgotten a lot about what happens – After a year of living abroad, I am somewhat surprised to find out how much has slipped from my mind about my own culture. This is the board after that class…between the morbid (and useless) vocabulary, and the ideas that were inches away from slipping out of my students’ grasp (the graveyard, and what to do when it gets full; the potluck dinner, and the idea that others would bring food to a gathering; the color black, and why it should be worn to a religious event; communal singing; burial; and funeral homes), it was a pretty fun day.Dreams
So with the each month’s full moon, I’ve found that my normally dreamless sleep gets a little clouded with images of all the people and things in my life. Most recently, actually, I’ve had an odd triad of dreams that are just plain odd, mainly because they aren’t as odd as dreams usually are.
One. As part of my summer plans, I have an honors class of 10 students, and I just gave the test today to decide which 10 out of the 30-some interested students would be able to study. The class was my friend and fellow PCV Deidre’s idea for her school, and it sounded so awesome that I wanted to do it myself. So… my dream was all about her exam and my trying to guess what she had on it. I don’t understand why, given my own exam was just fine but…
Two. One of my first months here, I put all four seasons of The Office on my computer, courtesy of my friend Bob’s ipod and Davey’s computer skills. I have watched these Office seasons more than I think appropriate and have officially become an addict. Well, the 5th season recently had its finale, and a few of the PCVs were talking about buying it, which brings me to my dream. I dreamt that I was going to buy season 5 of the Office next week when I was in Phnom Penh, with Bob, and was ecstatically happy. Bob and I are both anxious to see if the copyright laws are cool enough here to allow us to have access to that…
Three. This one is my favorite. It’s a little fuzzy, but it was something like me in an airport, with my cousin Katie, going somewhere not in the US… but I was entering the airport and planning on going ahead with her, just on the way. Except, I had no plane ticket for my next destination and my mother, who was with me for some reason, was very upset with me. Something about me being irresponsible and not preparing for things. She was upset in the dream… upset enough that I woke up and reconsidered any sort of request for a long amount of time… At least my grandma was there too!
One. As part of my summer plans, I have an honors class of 10 students, and I just gave the test today to decide which 10 out of the 30-some interested students would be able to study. The class was my friend and fellow PCV Deidre’s idea for her school, and it sounded so awesome that I wanted to do it myself. So… my dream was all about her exam and my trying to guess what she had on it. I don’t understand why, given my own exam was just fine but…
Two. One of my first months here, I put all four seasons of The Office on my computer, courtesy of my friend Bob’s ipod and Davey’s computer skills. I have watched these Office seasons more than I think appropriate and have officially become an addict. Well, the 5th season recently had its finale, and a few of the PCVs were talking about buying it, which brings me to my dream. I dreamt that I was going to buy season 5 of the Office next week when I was in Phnom Penh, with Bob, and was ecstatically happy. Bob and I are both anxious to see if the copyright laws are cool enough here to allow us to have access to that…
Three. This one is my favorite. It’s a little fuzzy, but it was something like me in an airport, with my cousin Katie, going somewhere not in the US… but I was entering the airport and planning on going ahead with her, just on the way. Except, I had no plane ticket for my next destination and my mother, who was with me for some reason, was very upset with me. Something about me being irresponsible and not preparing for things. She was upset in the dream… upset enough that I woke up and reconsidered any sort of request for a long amount of time… At least my grandma was there too!
5.30.2009
A Lot of Mud and a Tiger
Well, its official: rainy season has begun. Which means, of course, that the road from my house to anywhere that I would need to be (the city, the school, the market, the coffeehouse) is completely horrendous. There is a giant never-ending puddle that I have to cross on the way to school, which means that my shoes and my feet and the bottom of my teaching skirt are always filthy and that I haven’t seen the silver in my bike for ages.
On the other hand, I am happy to say that I finally made it to the chapter that I taught in practicum: Folk Tales. For this chapter, there are three equally entertaining sections: The Tiger and the Monk, about a monk who heals a tiger, who in turn gets angry and tries to kill the monk; Who Stole the Baby, about a woman who stole a baby off of the riverbank and tried to sell her until the King intervened with his infinite wisdom; and, The Magic Bird, about a man who finds a bird who talks and lays golden eggs until his gossiping wife gets greedy and kills the bird to try to find the big egg store.
It’s a very Cambodian chapter… but one with lots of things to do – I told the first story with little pictures of the monk, tiger, and other characters, then had the students tell the story in small groups to practice public speaking. And then I had the students act out the baby-stealing story, which got some of my girls up and out of their shy shells. It was excellent, and finally… finally, after a full year of teaching, I feel like my students are stepping out of their comfort zones and actually getting the feel of student-centered learning. I see what the other Peace Corps Volunteers say… the second year is so much better than the first. After you feel settled, after you are comfortable with the daily aspects of life, you can finally begin to branch out and do some real work.
In othe
r news… I’ve found that weight loss is not necessarily the most convenient thing that could happen. Of all the clothed that I brought to Cambodia, only two things that I have still fit: one polo shirt and a jacket. Everything else is too big, has been tailored, or has been given to the great pile in the Volunteer room for others to take. I have found this to be a bit irritating, taking all my skirts in and re-sewing things to make them fit again. Ah, the price you pay. I’m still happy, especially because I know that I’m a bit of a special case; lots of the other volunteers are having trouble keeping weight off. I’m also thrilled at feeling so good, the best I have felt in my life. That’s Peace Corps for you!
On the other hand, I am happy to say that I finally made it to the chapter that I taught in practicum: Folk Tales. For this chapter, there are three equally entertaining sections: The Tiger and the Monk, about a monk who heals a tiger, who in turn gets angry and tries to kill the monk; Who Stole the Baby, about a woman who stole a baby off of the riverbank and tried to sell her until the King intervened with his infinite wisdom; and, The Magic Bird, about a man who finds a bird who talks and lays golden eggs until his gossiping wife gets greedy and kills the bird to try to find the big egg store.
It’s a very Cambodian chapter… but one with lots of things to do – I told the first story with little pictures of the monk, tiger, and other characters, then had the students tell the story in small groups to practice public speaking. And then I had the students act out the baby-stealing story, which got some of my girls up and out of their shy shells. It was excellent, and finally… finally, after a full year of teaching, I feel like my students are stepping out of their comfort zones and actually getting the feel of student-centered learning. I see what the other Peace Corps Volunteers say… the second year is so much better than the first. After you feel settled, after you are comfortable with the daily aspects of life, you can finally begin to branch out and do some real work.
In othe
r news… I’ve found that weight loss is not necessarily the most convenient thing that could happen. Of all the clothed that I brought to Cambodia, only two things that I have still fit: one polo shirt and a jacket. Everything else is too big, has been tailored, or has been given to the great pile in the Volunteer room for others to take. I have found this to be a bit irritating, taking all my skirts in and re-sewing things to make them fit again. Ah, the price you pay. I’m still happy, especially because I know that I’m a bit of a special case; lots of the other volunteers are having trouble keeping weight off. I’m also thrilled at feeling so good, the best I have felt in my life. That’s Peace Corps for you!5.11.2009
Hey we built a house!
Fifteen people. No experience. The hot Cambodian sun beating down on us. It was a week of hard labor for Habitat for Humanity, and an amazing amount of fun for all of us. We were in Oudong, a small town outside of Phnom Penh known for the ancient temple on the mountain and the pagoda at the base which is a training site for the local monks. It is a beautiful place, and the small house that we built has beautiful views on every side – rice paddies one way, the peaks of the temple on the mountain on the other.
We were building this house as a sort of test run for Habitat; the program is relatively new in our country, and while they work up in Siem Riep, they are currently preparing for a big project that will take place in November. The Jimmy Carter Work Project will be a massive build all across SE Asia, with Habitat building 21 houses in Cambodia, Laos, Ch
ina, Vietnam, and 80-something houses in Thailand (in celebration of the King’s upcoming birthday). And so, in preparation, Habitat tested out the build to try to judge how many volunteers, materials, skilled workers, and so on that they would need for their upcoming week long project (Yes, they are building a community of 21 houses in one week’s time…)
So – our work! We came onto the build site, moved some big cement blocks, and ended up becoming masons for a week as we laid the bricks neatly with mortar around the already constructed foundation. We had some help; skilled Khmer laborers were working alongside us, helping us, fixing our few mistakes, and getting to know us through our Khmer exchanges. They were all local, and some of them were more excited about the prospect of helping the white folk learn their trade than others. Ev
en still, we all had a blast slowly layering the blocks to create what would soon be a community center. Habitat is creating this community of 21 houses for a certain population of people; a community recently displaced from their homes near a dump site closer to Phnom Penh. They are hoping that it will be the new “place to be” for the locals – and it is a very nice place.
So slowly we built, a few rows a day, with lots of breaks for some water and shade… And somehow, at the end of the week, even with some rain breaks, we had a house! But, even better, at the end of the week, some of the members of the community came over for a de
dication ceremony and a bit of a party. All of the children wanted to play, and we danced in a circle to Khmer songs. It is why I joined Peace Corps… to see that joy and feel as welcome in a community as I did. It was incredible, and the presentation of the ‘key to the house’ was very heart-warming and beautiful. If only I could get that kind of feedback every week!
http://www.habitat.org/newsroom/2009archive/05_01_2009_JRCWP_Peace_Corps.aspx#P1_12
We were building this house as a sort of test run for Habitat; the program is relatively new in our country, and while they work up in Siem Riep, they are currently preparing for a big project that will take place in November. The Jimmy Carter Work Project will be a massive build all across SE Asia, with Habitat building 21 houses in Cambodia, Laos, Ch
ina, Vietnam, and 80-something houses in Thailand (in celebration of the King’s upcoming birthday). And so, in preparation, Habitat tested out the build to try to judge how many volunteers, materials, skilled workers, and so on that they would need for their upcoming week long project (Yes, they are building a community of 21 houses in one week’s time…)So – our work! We came onto the build site, moved some big cement blocks, and ended up becoming masons for a week as we laid the bricks neatly with mortar around the already constructed foundation. We had some help; skilled Khmer laborers were working alongside us, helping us, fixing our few mistakes, and getting to know us through our Khmer exchanges. They were all local, and some of them were more excited about the prospect of helping the white folk learn their trade than others. Ev
en still, we all had a blast slowly layering the blocks to create what would soon be a community center. Habitat is creating this community of 21 houses for a certain population of people; a community recently displaced from their homes near a dump site closer to Phnom Penh. They are hoping that it will be the new “place to be” for the locals – and it is a very nice place.So slowly we built, a few rows a day, with lots of breaks for some water and shade… And somehow, at the end of the week, even with some rain breaks, we had a house! But, even better, at the end of the week, some of the members of the community came over for a de
dication ceremony and a bit of a party. All of the children wanted to play, and we danced in a circle to Khmer songs. It is why I joined Peace Corps… to see that joy and feel as welcome in a community as I did. It was incredible, and the presentation of the ‘key to the house’ was very heart-warming and beautiful. If only I could get that kind of feedback every week!
http://www.habitat.org/newsroom/2009archive/05_01_2009_JRCWP_Peace_Corps.aspx#P1_12
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