Outside the comfortable cave

It's mid-Sunday afternoon in Phnom Penh and it's hot outside.  I was supposed to go biking to see some temples outside PP with Tim this morning, but planning ahead is utterly ridiculous here and alas, I spent last night running back and forth between the bathroom and my bed. Cambodia strikes again.  "It's good for cleansing your body," Tim says.  Well, when you put it that way... 

This morning was spent in Micaela's "Cave", on her white couch, watching a movie with Fitria and Tim who were keeping me company.

  Micaela's nice apartment on the Tonle river front serves as a cool refuge from the outside world.  It's good to have friends that can take care of you when all you want to do is go home.  At noon we peeled ourselves off the couch and Fitria and I joined another neighbor for some lunch.  Little did I know we were in for a 2 1/2 hour meal.  

While I hate getting sick and giving in to the negatives of living in the developing world, I love the people I come across.  Yesterday I met a young American couple that had just quit their jobs and had been traveling for 9 months in Australia, New Zealand and SE Asia on their wedding money, and today here we were...  An Indonesian law intern, a Malaysian-Australian chemist, and a Mexican-American kid (me) eating Vietnamese in Cambodia.  When you dig into other people's lives, getting past the where they are from, how long they are here for, what they think of Cambodia, you discover another part of the world in a way.  Based on where they grew up, where they went to school, and how they came to be in a certain place, you are suddenly handed a chance to look at the world a different way.  In an illogical world, in an illogical place, certain things suddenly make sense, like why electric companies have to create shorter contracts upon the request of the Cambodian government in order to lease a 15x15 m. plot of land to put up a tower (the answer:  the Cambodian government can't be bothered to read long paragraphs in English that can't be translated into Khmer), or why the tribunal court has been wrought by allegations of kick-backs when it is perfectly normal in Cambodia to pay for your judicial seat.  A  5 second snapshot of traffic in Phnom Penh would be enough for 5 lawsuits in the U.S.  No helmets? Babies driving?  4 people on the back of a moto?  Their simply wouldn't be another way here, at least now.  

This linear thinking- this thinking of "this is the way things are done in Cambodia" of course, presents problems for those who want to think otherwise.  Those people are generally expats, or Cambodians who have studied abroad.    To challenge the norm doesn't always have to be political.  It can be done with the subtlest of changes.    What if today I ask a street kid selling books what his name is and his age?  What if I suddenly take interest in him as a person, not as a vendor or beggar?  Maybe I get a smile in return now and then, and a blush of youth comes back to his face for a short moment.  It's a good start, but it is not enough.  Sitting in nice restaurants complaining about the problems we run into with a new culture certainly isn't a solution, but when I meet people that are passionate about living with those problems my mind is awakened by the little things I can do by not accepting norms. I certainly didn't come here to change Cambodia or any person.   If anything, I came here to change myself and become more of who I am.  

There is a good paragraph in Shantaram that sort of sums this up:

"There is a kind of luck that's not much more than being in the right place at the right time, a kind of inspiration that's not much more than doing the right thing in the right way, and both only really happen to you when you empty your heart of ambition, purpose, and plan; when you give yourself, completely, to the golden, fate-filled moment."

I'm working on the giving of myself... I guess I'll know when I'll have reached that golden moment.

Birthday Celebrations and the U.N. Court

Well, first of all, I want to thank everyone who wished me a happy birthday and I'm happy to report that it was a good birthday indeed.

It started off as most birthday's should... With a Mariachi band signing "Las Mañanitas" in the background... J/K that came later.  

No, it actually started out drizzly which is great if you're Madame Mim from the Sword in the Stone (ah evoking Disney, as always).  I rode my bike in the rain to Hagar where I promptly traded it in for a motodop ride to The Living Room, one of my café corners of choice.  Over my chai-latte and fresh fruit, my grandparent's called from Mexico to wish me a happy birthday, followed by my family, this time with full-mariachi recording in the background.  Thanks mom!

The day continued to turn even grosser, so I meandered over to golden street/tourist street where I refused a number of tuk-tuk rides before ducking into the recommended "Dermal Spa" for my birthday present to myself... Aromatherapy massage, fruit scrub, steam bath, and manicure/pedicure all for hundreds less than it would have cost me in the U.S.  Thank you, Asia.  After this delightful pampering of the self, my red pedicured toes stepped into the pouring rain and I decided to sit it out for awhile at the fake Starbucks while I stared out, contemplating life and reading Shantaram.  

That evening Tim and Jess surprised me with the second best birthday present ever... A spa/massage gift certificate (this one will be saved for "post first couple of weeks at work" therapy) and a couple of us headed over to Pacharan (Spanish tapas restaurant) for before-dinner drinks and L'Una de Atuno for some delicious pizza e pasta.

Overall good birthday (minus one big girl's D.C. reunion)!

Aside from that, I am now reporting to you from Micaela's apartment on the Tonle Sap river front.  I'm now officially moved in for apartment-sitting for the month in her nice little studio, which probably fits better in N.Y. more than it does in Cambodia (well, maybe not the red, orange, and white star tiles). I have a good neighbor friend, Fitria, from Indonesia who I got to take me to her work yesterday...

She's an intern at the U.N. Court for trying the Khmer Rouge criminals on crimes against humanity.  The court's official name is the Extraordinary Chambers in the Courts of Cambodia for the Prosecution of Crimes Committed During the Period of Democratic Kampuchea.  The court is held in the outskirts of Phnom Penh (past the airport). Naturally, I loved meeting Fitria's co-interns and felt right at home listening to the mix of languages and accents. The interns never stay year-round, so I listened in on the social scandals, drama, and work complaints (apparently, work can be boring everywhere,  even at the UN).  I met people from Latvia, France, Germany, Malaysia, the U.S. and yes, even Mexico (one girl studying in Strasbourg, from Oaxaca).  

It was both incredibly interesting and incredibly bizarre to be in such an international setting, especially while in court,  listening through earphones to the interpreter dictate what Duch (former Khmer leader in charge of S-21, the school-turned torture prison in Phnom Penh between 1975 and 1979) had to say as "the accused" when the prosecutors and civil party groups cross-examined him.  (I hope I got the legal terms right lol)  Sooo much is lost in translation that the French "President" of the court and Duch, and the Cambodian judges and anyone else have to constantly re-state and re-phrase their questions and answers.  I literally spent an entire morning listening to exactly how did Duch "Brother" communicate via letter, messenger, and telephone with his superiors (Pol Pot, Sary, Sam Bith and Nuon Paet) when prisoners were being sent to S-21.  

The court itself is actually quite a show, with the characters: the judges at center stage, the accused and defense lawyers stage right, the prosecutors and civil parties stage left, and the couple of "victims" almost behind the scenes on far stage left.  Instead of a curtain, the characters are safe behind a glass fish-bowl, while the public sits, listens and observes in what would be considered "the auditorium" seating.  Oh, and there was one rather large African security person standing near the door, in case anyone tried to sneak in a bottle of water or do something outrageous like fall asleep.  After a nice lunch and iced-coffee I decided not to go to law school.  Actually, I decided while on the back of one of the guards' motos on my way back to Phnom Penh, that I still don't know what I want to do.  Overall, attending the court was more historically impacting, especially when I am able to see an aging international criminal turn to look at the audience with curiosity and even do a little head bow, rather than the glamorous mystique that the words "United Nations Tribunal" had often brought when I read my political science texts.  I think that people are just people that often get caught up in something that brings them to do something that is seen as normal, or a way of "surviving" by those they are surrounded by.  I'm not excusing any criminal by any means, I think the point I'm trying to make is that no system (domestic or international) will ever be fair.  People here complain about how millions are being spent each year on this court a they were spent in the Rwandan and Yugoslav tribunals, how the system is flawed, how it is pointless to bring back the atrocities to generations that did not live through them, or to those that are trying to forget.  But honestly, I think that despite the flaws of such a system, there will never truly be justice for the victims or for those affected world-wide by such crimes, but it is still good to have such a process, with international backing, for the sake of history.  I know that if I was a Cambodian child born generations from now, I would have no trust in my own government and culture, if I knew nothing had been done at all to close such a gruesome chapter in Cambodia.  

The arguments and counter-arguments are endless, but at least I got to observe the daily routine of those caught up in the world of international "justice".

When Things Finally Start Coming Together...

Saturday was an interesting day... 

To start with, I went into the Rock Production office on Monivong to sign my new job contract! Yay!!!!!  My official title is "Media Marketing and Distribution Officer"... What this basically means is that I will be in charge of marketing and selling our documentary film(s) (production and interviews in process on the first one)  to the international film festivals and media community.  The documentary we are working on is titled "Impunity" and is on child rape and murder cases in Cambodia.  My managing director is a feisty Korean woman married to a quiet Norwegian who works on the engineering and distribution of water filters with a non-profit (Hagar International) and who is responsible for putting me in contact with this job possibility.  Funny how you move across the world to try your hand out in another industry and end up right back in Media/Entertainment.    Interestingly, the company I will be working for also produces dramas, music videos, and T.V. commercials, and manages about 24 stars.   Rock Production is part of the larger portfolio of Royal Group (Telecoms, IT, Finance, Media & Entertainment including broadcast network, Hotels & Resorts, and Property Development). http://royalgroup.com.kh/who-we-are/

Even more interesting, the Chairman and Vice Chairman of Royal Group are two Cambodian brothers that are as different as night and day if you catch my drift...  Adds a little spice to the working life in the developing world.  Seeing as I will be getting my resident Visa and Business work permit in the next few weeks, I will be officially joining the ranks of the expatriate, following in my family's footsteps in a strange turn of events.

Yesterday morning I also met Wayne, who runs "Democrats Abroad" in Cambodia.  Fittingly, we met at USA Donuts (real donuts not Cambodian fake fried- in-oil donuts) and we proceeded to converse in this tiny donut shop and surrounded by his cute little Cambodian nephews, about the politics behind Americans living abroad and the rights they have, don't have (i.e. if you are not working for the government or for a US multinational overseas, you are basically seen in the eyes of American law as second-class citizens).  Anyways, Wayne (older, blond American decked out in a Floridian button shirt) is an immigration lawyer and has been in Cambodia 9 years (married to a local now), has worked in the communications and film industry in CA, and passed the Foreign Service exam for fun. Oh, and he also went to high school with Obama and met him in the Oval Office a couple of months ago after Obama was inducted.  Needless to say, Wayne is a great guy to know.  Clearly a busy man, he needs help running Democrats Abroad and offered me the volunteer position of "Media Contact" for the organization.  This means I would get the media releases straight from D.C. and would be in charge of contacting the press here when releasing statements and speaking on behalf of Obama.   Just kidding.  I can't ever directly comment on what the President "thinks" or "says."  I think this would be a pretty cool opportunity for me to get back into politics and be directly connected to D.C. as well as overseas issues affecting Americans living abroad and helping greet delegations that come to Cambodia... I also get to man the booth at the Embassy 4th of July party, so yay for another new exciting opportunity and hot-dogs and hamburgers in about a month LOL.

A couple of final things...

1.   Tuesday I will be moving into Micaela's (Italian friend) apt. right on the river on Sisowath Quay whilst she is away and I can look for something more permanent.  I'm also excited to be living here because just yesterday I met an Indonesian girl (U.N. Lawyer working on the Khmer Rouge tribunal) who will be my neighbor while I'm living at Micaela's... Yay for more new friends!

2.  I learned how to drive an electric moto yesterday and it's FUN... Wonder how long I will be able to resist purchasing one (with helmet)...

3.  I turn 24 on Monday.  Happy Memorial Day!

Love,

Meli

Well Kids, as I mentioned before, it was the King’s 56^th Birthday last week so naturally I went on vacation again.  This time I traveled to a paradise island off the coast of Sinouk ville  (South of Cambodia).  Ready???

Get jealous…

This is where I stayed: http://www.lazybeachcambodia.com/Home.html

Basically, you drive a couple of hours down south to Sinouk ville (great tourist city and bakery of choice is The Singing Tree i.e. delicious brownies) and then take an hour or so, long ferry to Koh Rong Samloen.  In order to reach the island you hop off the ferry and wade in shoulder deep waters onto a welcoming stretch of white sand.  Pearly white crabs rapidly scatter sideways about the beach as you make your way to the deck, where two Brits greet you with fresh lime juice.  These guys hopped over from the drizzly island of Great Britain to this SE Asian paradise to set up “Lazy Beach”, which consists of a few wooden bungalows on a virgin beach and a wonderful family staff of Cambodians that can make you EXCELLENT banana-nutella crepes and cook seafood like no one else can.  Let’s just say that they stumbled upon one incredible piece of leased real estate and they are every bit as much concerned with taking care of the island (although according to Tim, Bamboo would have been better for the bungalows) as they are with caring for the needs of their guests. 

When we first arrived on the beach I looked around, dug my toes into the warm sand, jumped

 into the delicately salted ocean and dove down into wave after wave.  I was in heaven.  A couple of sun-filled hours later, I was bored. LOL. Guess island living isn’t for me.  Soon enough the tranquil crashing of the waves upon the shore soothed my need to be constantly active and I settled into some quality reflection time.  I won’t bore you with that.  Suffice is to say that I do like short-term island living because it forces you to re-evaluate what the hell you are doing in life, like say, job-searching in SE Asia. Everything must run its course.  

The next few days were surprisingly full of activity: morning swims in the ocean-- I do love how you travel further/faster with a little helpful push from the waves, underwater hands stands and flips, required reading time (for intellectual stimulation), ipod listening (Side note: my nano sort of stopped turning on- any thoughts on how to fix this unfortunate situation?), and snorkeling (Jess saw an eel, thank god I only saw urchins, coral, and lots of tiny fish or I would have screamed and drowned).  We also hiked to the other side of the island (even whiter sand and longer stretch of sand occupied by I think a naval base). 

One evening we joined the other guests on a short boat ride to the other side of the island and did a little hiking to a lighthouse for a spectacular view of the ocean and dark-green chain of island groupings.  Umm at this point I confess to you that I pretended I was in an episode of LOST, machete in hand (as opposed to goggles and water bottle) chopping through the brush, clearing the way to reach the radio tower, or lighthouse.  Now, the Cambodian military

 occupies this part of the island and we did have to pay off the military a standard $2/person + vodka ($5 gift from the Brits), and just next to the lighthouse there is in fact, a storage cell with ammo.  No joke.  Didn’t run into “Jack”, but did get a good peak at what “The Others” guard. Kind of creepy.  The boat ride back was by far my favorite.  Looking at the sky, it was as if someone had dipped and swirled their finger around in a paint can of oranges, dark blues, and reds.  Instantly I was reminded of the picturesque Toledo skies in Spain. 

That night, after a fest of seafood, veggies, and rice, I went to sleep only to be awoken by a

 tropical thunderstorm.  The waves crashed louder, and the rain pelted down on the bungalows.  Having just read Life of Pi, I couldn’t help but wonder what it must be like to be out on the ocean during such a storm.  I curled up underneath my mosquito net and soon fell asleep again. 

I’m sad to say we left heaven the next day.  I felt refreshed, my skin slightly healed thanks to the salty waves, and my head in the right place.  I could return to Phnom Penh again, with a mind perhaps as clear as those waters.

*Pictures courtesy of Tim Rann.  I mistakenly dipped my camera in water.  Guess my head wasn’t quite as clear at that point.

In between Plowing Fields and Free Wi-Fi

So I WAS going to write something deep and profound about how in Cambodia …. In Cambodia luxury and poverty constantly hit you and there’s no way of avoiding it.  You can be browsing through the color-coordinated clothing rooms in a beautiful French villa design boutique one evening and the next be on the HASH  (international runners club found in major cities around the world) running through muddied fields lined with garbage.  You can be eating a Caesar salad and drinking iced coffee for lunch in one of the many Expat isle cafes in Phnom Penh or eating glass-noodles outside a market for dinner.  BUT I’ve lost my train of thought on the subject as Beyonce plays on loop at Café 33. 

I’ll just report that today it was decided during the Royal Plowing Ceremony that it would be a good year for rice.  Don’t ask me how that was decided.  I was too short to actually see what was going in the field next to the royal palace this morning.  Apparently the King showed up for the occasion.  It’s also the King’s 56^th Birthday this week, hence why Cambodians are on another national holiday yet again, hence why everyone in the non-profit world I seem to want to meet has been out of town the last two months.  Makes job-searching exceptionally difficult, but makes finding traveling time and travel companions exceptionally easy.

So there you go. As a foreigner attempting to build a life in Cambodia, the economic extremes are a constant reminder that you belong to a transient world beset with economic gaps.  Plowing fields, free Wi-Fi. What a weird in-between place to be. At least I now know how to line up the Cambodian Riel and US Dollars in my wallet so the numbers are easy to read.  Like I said, it’s all about balance and calculation, especially when I’m trying to balance on a bike between a Lexus and a Tuk-Tuk, trying to calculate if the Moto in front of me is about to screech to a halt.   

A Weekend in Kep

“Veranda”, “Vana”, “The Beach House”, “Le Bout de Monde”…. Names of beach houses, bungalows, and little seaside resorts in Kep, Cambodia, a place where luxury villas once housed the vacationing elite of Cambodia before the Khmer Rouge wiped them out, leaving only the abandoned villas to crumble, serving today as evidence of the country’s economic and political descent. 

Last weekend I too vacationed once again, this time to the Kampot (pepper) province, south of Cambodia along the Gulf of Thailand for some much-needed rest-time, away from the traffic and chaotic noises of Phnom Penh.  A couple of American girls

 and one Brit, Tim, Jess and I all took part in this mini-exodus about 4 hours by mini-van, south of the city.  It still amazes me how relatively small Cambodia is and how one can still find mountains, beaches, and temples just a few hours away, depending on the direction one wishes to travel.  The scenes along the way are the same as those I encountered on my cycling trip to the northwest: agricultural fields, cattle moving slowly (sometimes across the road), raised houses lining the one road south, and people—kids running along the road or bathing with buckets of water, old women crouched down staring out at those who pass their drink stalls, men gathered around television sets, farmers plowing fields, and bicycles and mottos gathering speed and swerving on to join the traffic.   

 

When I arrived at Veranda to our comfortable $15/person a night mosquito net covered bungalows on a hillside overlooking the sea, I immediately felt guilty- transported back into a time where only the privileged are allowed to take time off from the grind of the real world.  A nervous Khmer staff waited on us for lunch, served us mint-chocolate chip and passion-fruit ice cream, brought us bottles of red and white wine for dinner and placed baskets of bread and chocolate-croissants at our breakfast table.  The guests at the Veranda were all foreigners, something you take notice of right away.  Here we were, NGO workers, English-Teachers, Volunteers (and well one big question mark- me), staring out at the beautiful sunsets and

 sunrises, in the lap of what Khmers would consider luxury, as we took a break from proposals, programs, school curriculums and laptops to read poems by Hafiz, the latest in Southeastern Global news, criticisms on foreign aid and discuss little curiosities we’d come across when living and traveling in SE Asia.

 

When we weren’t reading we hiked up a small hill and spotted monkeys, hiked downhill and invited ourselves to the only pool at one of the beach houses, lounged about at the “Sailing Club”, took artistic photographs of Khmer boaters, and ate crab, fish and squid at the crab-market.  Our second day we took a ferry over to “Rabbit Island”-- I’ll admit, I was kind of hoping the shape of it would look like a crouching rabbit, but no, it pretty much just looked like a long skinny island without rabbit-ears.  Here we continued about our lounging- this time on straw mats placed atop flat wooden structures along the rocky sands.  In essence, Rabbit Island was our private refuge from the poverty and demands of a country that at least I was only beginning to understand.  Our refuge lasted for a couple of hours until we had to retreat beneath the straw roof of one of the tiny island restaurants as we watched the dark clouds roll in, swallow up surrounding islands, and the rains pour down for the usual mid-day deluge.  Sipping our iced-coffees with sweetened condensed milk mixed in at the bottom (umm it is quite probable that my favorite thing in Cambodia is this “Vietnamese” coffee... Hands down, beats any Starbucks creation) we waited for the rains to pass before venturing out again to enjoy the afternoon sun and bathe in the warm waters. 

Sunday afternoon we returned to Phnom Penh but not before stopping in Kampot to enjoy lunch and moist carrot cake at Epic Arts, a small café devoted to promoting the arts and culture as a learning and expression tool for the handicap, our one last indulgence before entering the real world once again.

Observations on a Rainy Afternoon in Phnom Penh

I found myself wondering where I wanted to live this Thursday afternoon in Phnom Penh on the top floor balcony of street 242 house no. 53D. I’d grown tired of staring at my computer monitor, sending emails all afternoon, so I stepped out into the darkening sky and watched the clouds roll in and felt the wind pick up speed. I leaned over the railing and just stared out. How lovely it is to space out and observe life. It’s like people watching only people watching is usually done at a café, or a bookstore, or a bar—somewhere where you hope maybe someone is watching you too as you critically observe passers-by. I was watching life. Mottos roared by carrying a teenager, then one holding three school kids stacked like navy-white dominoes behind a driver, bicycles with baskets, bicycles with tuk-tuks out in front, a man selling what I hope are colorful candy packages on a cart, a woman rolling balls of rice and boiling them in water in front of her house, a girl in a red hat. A foreigner clutching her helmet hurries over to a corner where she can quickly catch a motto-taxi. In the apartment across the street, a child runs around in circles until he becomes dizzy and falls over, yells with delight and stands up this time with airplane arms to try once again. More slanted aluminum roofs in the distance, a few cement-white houses, clothes hanging out to dry… I look down and I my gaze is met by a perfectly white smile. I stare back, and sure enough, this cute Asian kid about 9 or 10 is smiling back at me, then he brings over his little sister and together they wave and blow kisses, and I do the same back. This is when I find myself wondering, where can I live in the world were the weather is perfect and I can just observe life and have the privilege of stepping in and out of it whenever I want? Are there such apartments with balconies in Karachi, in London, in Mexico City, or elsewhere in Phnom Penh? I flatten out my black work dress, click my little heels together and feel perfectly content watching people play basketball at the Olympic Stadium a block away. I don’t want to move from my spot, but the clouds keep rolling in and the lightning glitters quickly in the distance. Yet, nobody runs inside. It hasn’t poured yet, and until it does, everyone goes about their own business. A man parks his bike across the way and I see Tim drive into the premises on his electric green motto. Life goes on, and I stand still just watching, waiting perhaps for something? I feel a drop and wave one last good-bye to my new friends across the street before heading inside.

-Written from inside the Hagar International office, inside the Swiss Consulate in Phnom Penh on April 30, 2009, where it is now pouring outside.