Pressing "re-start"

A few times in life we are allowed to press the "re-start" button: high school, college, graduation, new job, next job, moving to Cambodia (if applicable), and so on.  Sometimes we're conscious and exercise our finger before we push, other times it's pushed for us. I haven't quite decided if I'm the one pushing the button or if some other force is pushing it for me this time around.  All I know is that the signs are there...

1.  Upcoming Trip(s) -- always provide a time for reading and reflection, generating new ideas, etc.
2.  Dwindling bank account--  expedient need to replace funds and a sense of urgency to acquire full-benefits including vision care.
3.  I've had my hair-colored (this time by a Japanese stylist who promised me he'd try his very best at highlighting my roots, but that he was "only human" and might miss a few strands). It took 3-hours.
4.  20+ hours of transatlantic flights-- also time for reflection, getting to know a new airport (Incheon, Souel), terrible in-flight movies, and undergoing emotional turbulence as waves of excitement and dread cause me to grip my arm-rests and pace the aisle.
5.  Spring Cleaning (lots of washing and re-washing of backpacking backpacks, trekking shoes, and donating randomly acquired items to the cleaner (including a full-set of dish-ware I never used).
6.  Incredible need to really work-out again (since knee/hamstring injury in Dec. I've yet to run more than 10 min. w/out experiencing pain)-- perfect opportunity to try out swimming-biking biathalons and windsurfing.
7.  Acquisition of new shoes (blue leather-straps flat sandaled shoes-- $15).
8.  Meditation willing the perfect next job to be thrown into my lap. (Actually I haven't had time for this one yet)-- visions of me at Starbucks (wearing all black and green apron) occasionally pop into my head.
9. The Economist (reading withdrawal)--> led to an hour spent standing at Monument Books, browsing the job ads, reading about the upcoming new state of South Sudan and spilled over onto this week's TIME issue.
10. That feeling...

Is life abroad real?

A year in Cambodia can rip apart your heart and soul (and maybe knee) and stitch it back haphazardly, like a bad copy of a Russian-market dress.  Oddly, upon closer inspection, the stitching is stronger.  The experience makes you stronger. Even on a morning when you're completely drained and find yourself on the back of a moto, knowing that if something happens that's it-- you don't have the energy to jump off-- at least you're comforted by the one truth you know: you have lived.  An experience in a foreign place makes every feeling, thought and emotion surface at odd times and then completely empties you out.  Only then, when you're emptied out, feeling nothing, confused by what is the real and unreal, will you know.  You'll be walking in the heated dream that is South East Asia and from somewhere within, a memory of a cold breeze will make you shiver and  whisper that it doesn't matter. 


We choose what we want to live and what we want to be real. 

In an (almost) quarter-life

25 Things I've learned, after an (almost) quarter life, with an experiential year in Cambodia:  

1.  Always listen, then speak. 
2.  Living with others is better than living alone. 

3.  Only you can find happiness, but it takes more than one to live happily.

4.  I still hate cooking. If I ever enjoy it, it probably wasn't cooking. 
5. Letting go is the healthiest thing to do. 
6. It's not you, it's them.
7. It's not them, it's you.
8. Smiling is better than haggling.
9.  Looking for Indiana Jones or James Bond really means you want to be Indiana Jones or James Bond.       Be who you want to be. 
10. Surround yourself with good people.
11. The question will always be, "Now What?"
12. Save the planet. 
13. Real tests are physical, mental, and emotional.
14. Surprise people, but better yet... Surprise yourself.
15. Adventure means not knowing what comes next, and being okay with that. (That means, avoiding sleepless nights or worrying about resume submissions).
16. Avoid people that make you feel like shit.
17. Things don't last. Memories do, but they fade into hazy dreams. Exist Simply.
18. Live out childhood dreams. Then find new ones...
19. Life is movement by any means.
20. Find the ones who care.
21. The middle class has the real power for change, but T.V., fast-food, and enclosed spaces get in the way.
22. I'm not as scared of [insert whatever here] anymore.
23. The people you love, you'll want to see again. And again.
24. A future depends on silence, actions, and words. Learn to use the right one at the right time.
25. It's okay...  Nothing is certain... Not everything you do should have a purpose. *

(*Okay, I cheated on the last one. You got 2 more bonus points.)

Cambodia through new eyes

Hi. I’m alive. Here is what I’ve been up to the last month:

1. Interning at the Cambodian Center for Human Rights (i.e. being around lawyers)!
2. Planning and preparing for my mom’s trip to Cambodia and Vietnam in April (YAY)!!
3. My return to America (i.e. I know you didn't think it was possible)!!!

Before I elaborate did you know that the number one thought an expatriate has on a moto in Cambodia is: “Please don’t kill me.” (Source of sampling: Foreign colleagues & acquaintances)

Yep. ANYWAYS...

Okay so work:  I LOVE my job. Seriously. Ever thought you could say that?  I just did, and it’s pretty cool.  For the last month I’ve been interning at the Cambodian Center for Human Rights, working on three projects:

 1. Assistant Producing a promotional film for the website
 2. Collaborating on a report about social media as a human rights advocacy tool (though I’m primarily writing the history of democracy, civil society, and the human rights movement in Cambodia part)
3. Deciphering the strange accents of my Irish, British, and New Zealander work colleagues (they pretty much think I’m a terrible listener).

I’ll spare you details about the work, but the fun bits have involved:

Traveling south to Takeo Province where we interviewed two Human Rights activists (Cambodian) formerly accused and acquitted on charges of disinformation SEE:  Takeo Case Ruling 

Watching a burnt-victim begging outside of S-21 fall silent as he is asked what his family & friends think of his situation (he has no access to decent medical care and job opportunities)...

Another stomach-sinking trip into the former torture prison in the middle of the city...

Having a "Phnom Penh Day" with my boss, Rupert & Louis (filmmaker) where I saw the city through someone else’s eyes as Rupert took us through hidden alleys, former hotels, and an old Church taken over by urban settlers after the Khmer Rouge…. [Please excuse sudden outburst for need of photographic creativity]

sideways tuk-tuk

view of the colonial post-office from building across

an old hotel room 

phnom penh alley

cyclo nap-time

self-portrait (kidding)

living in a church

Filming and visiting an evicted AIDS colony at the outskirts of the city where they have no access to medical care and adequate housing…

new housing being built because aluminum housing (below in green) gets too hot

Filming at Boeng Kak Lake, where hundreds of families have been evicted as the government undergoes land concession to private companies and builds a new financial center at the heart of the lake. This has had a profound effect on my education of urban growth in developing cities, with governments with instinctive appetites for $$$. You can tell from these pictures how big the lake is and how much has been filled with sand already. In my opinion (and one probably shared by many), this is one of the biggest mistakes (both environmentally and socially) to happen upon Cambodia…

Traveling north to Kampong Thom and where I played with street children (very dirty, very cute, very, very wrong that no one said anything at all… I mean I could have been anybody if you know what I mean), and then traveling the next day to 2 hours into the middle of nowhere, where I observed a general deforestation of the land and a public forum held by the CCHR's Community Empowerment Programme, where local villagers voiced complaints against the government and officials taking away their land, farming equipment, and not allowing them to dig wells…

The Public Forum (Community Empowerment Programme)

villager speaking out 

Then filming out-takes in the car and stopping by an Angkor Temple in the middle of nowhere (literally)

Louis ("filmmaker guy")

In short I have had probably close to the best month and a half of experimenting in the field of Human Rights Advocacy (with a cross into filming again). Not only have I worked with people that are passionate about community empowerment, land rights, acid attacks, anti-corruption laws, business and human rights, and other issues at the frontline of Cambodian political, social, and economic changes, I have also put my political science undergraduate degree to good use for once. The sad part is that I don’t get paid.  Such is the life of the clichéd socially conscious liberal arts major. Tiny, tiny problem.

So having had a taste for human rights, documentary film, journalism, Asia, expat communities, rugby, bike-moto-running accidents, worms, dumplings, sweet iced-coffees, killer heat, rainy season, and dwindling bank accounts, I’ve found after one year in Cambodia, that it is time to return to my home base-- Chicago.  Trust me, adventures will continue. My Return Date is set to May 5^th.

I’m definitely sad to go, but confident I’ll return to SE Asia one day. After all, Phnom Penh is now a part of me, a part of my definition of “Home” just as Mexico City, Vernon Hills, Chicago, Notre Dame, and Toledo have been. Cambodia is where I learned to just exist. To stop planning, worrying and dreaming… To just live reality (even though I too have criticized its "non-realistic" qualities).

The big question:  What will I do next?  I don’t know. (How exciting!)

Of course, I will keep in mind my perfect job description as I move forth.  It should contain some sort of key phrase like:


Requires being on the frontline of… INSERT: 
[disaster, crisis management, travel, cross-cultural excursions, spying, foreign language training, six figures, expeditions or All of the Above].

Where will I live? Hopefully, NOT a cardboard box.

When will I return to the life abroad? ASAP... For school or work or whatever comes next when the timing is right again... C'est la vie. 

So... Now,  if you’d like to see my CV, please inquire within...  

Bangkok Top Ten

Last Weekend Gemma, Moritz and I [i.e. three-fourths of Flat 42E] jet-set (well, Air Asia set) to Bangkok for a February weekend of fun! We forwent the opening and return of Pontoon (I know, what was I thinking?) for cheap street food, air-conditioned movie theatres, and shopping, and it was well worth it!

In list update, here is Bangkok's Top 10 Weekend Highlights:

1. We overpay the taxi from the airport to our cheap hostel by 100 baht. We were the clichéd dumb tourists calculating currency exchanges (33 baht to the dollar, which we for some reason couldn't figure out) when the guy peeled off. We proceed to make up our loss by eating cheap street food for the rest of the weekend.

2. After finding a slit between the air conditioning vent we blast to air to the musty room, where Moritz can hide his passport and Laos cash, the three of us dump our bags on the bed and head off in search of street pad thai and noodles! We discover, the giant white alien woman.  Hours later we find ourselves cracking up, standing up for respect, honoring the King of Thailand as a cheesy promo plays in the air-conditioned movie theatre of Siam Paragon[NOTE: I tried to YouTube this video for your own personal enjoyment, and couldn't find it...]. A million trailers later, we don our 3-D glasses and consider ourselves to be the last people on Earth to catch Avatar on the big screen.

3. Saturday morning Moritz and Gemma make me get up early (they weren't aware this was a vacation) so we can spend the day sweating and walking around the city. We take the public bus (only 7 baht!) to the Khosan area to the West of the city. Khosan is the sketchy, cheap and dirty backpacker area featured in movies like The Beach (according to Tim).  Truth is, it isn't so sketchy at 8am. We pass a bunch of perfectly respectable places serving "American Breakfasts" and opt for pad thai for breakfast from noodle cart lady instead. All fears of stomach problems have virtually gone out the window.

4. Moritz doesn't get a tattoo (well, al the stores were all closed anyways) and we find a tuk tuk that takes us for a ride....Or ON a ride I should say.  We fall into another tourist trap... for 5 baht each, we are taken all over the city... the jewelry store, the indian tailor shop, the asian souveniers shop, where the tuk tuk driver collects what he claims are free gas cards,  if we just "pretend" to shop for 5 minutes in each store. We should have walked. The pier to take the express boats down the canal was literally 10 minutes walking distance from where we were originally.

5. We take a boat down the canal to ChinaTown! For hours we get lost in the market... finding alleys, fruit stalls, eating and sampling tons of fried goodies (my favorite was the corn) and sweating buckets. Coffee breaks are a must and Gemma mistakenly orders black Thai coffee, or a cup of sugar maybe with some ground coffee beans.

6. By noon we are exhausted and find a small MBK mall with a bunch of Indian stuff. We listen to bollywood-like Indian music while sipping Lime freezes and recouperating from the heat. An hour later we are dawdling down little India (more market stalls) and on our way across a foot-bridge I discover the most brilliant random street-poster EVER:

7. We walk for what seems like hours out of Chinatown until we find a bus that will take us to Soi (street) 11, where I'm due at the much-recommended Cheap Charlie's random driftwood-like bar. Problem is, we find the wrong Soi 11. A lot of walking, and short tempers later, we get a tuk tuk to take us to the real Soi 11 (opposite end of the city) and we find that Cheap Charlie's does exist, much to our relief. Rounds of Gin and tonics pick us up again, thanks to Tim. We order Naan bread next door and it serves as our cheap tapas.

8. We then take the BTS (kinda like a much-better, much cleaner, much faster version of the Chicago EL) back to the mall area where we are staying at and stumble into a fast-food noodle place, where (as I'm virtually sick of noodles and fried food by this point) I order fresh spring rolls and top it off with an ice cream crepe for dessert. On the way back to the hostel we lose Moritz to shopping (for the record, he claimed he was NOT going to shop at all), and Gemma and I discover some sweet graphic tees for less than 5 dollars apiece.

9. Moritz departs for Laos bright and early the next morning, and Gemma and I gleefully make our way to the Chatuchak Weekend Market where much to our delight, young Thai designers display the latest fashion trends in clothes and jewelry. My wallet breathes a sigh of relief as it lightens up to a coffee frapp and earrings, bracelets, a shirt, and dress, and sweater... You get the point.
 Chatuchak Weekend Market in Bangkok

10. By 1pm we cram our newly purchased goods into our backpacks and march straight to a taxi that will take us back to the airport, but not before grabbing one last bowl of street food TO-GO that we shove down our throats in the taxi. With enough baht left over, I purchase a small oreo-blizzard at the Dairy Queen and look at all the pretty Duty Free things I will not be buying: alcohol, ciggarettes, ridiculoulsy expensive make-up, rolled up rice twisty cookie things, and dried fruit. For some reason, the Bangkok International Airport is overflowing with dried-fruit.

As Gemma and I walk onto the plane, joining the overtly red and balding, beer-bellied tourists on their way to Cambodia, we consider our trip a success, acknowledging that for less than a few hundred dollars, one can jet-set to Bangkok, "the city of life"... or in my opinion, the noisy, crowded first-world of Southeast Asia.

Road kill OR “The dramatic tale of surviving being T-boned by a moto”

 There I was, sitting in the office at the Cambodian Center for Human Rights when I get an emergency phone call from someone who needed my assistance, but it’s noon and I’m hungry. Stacey and Sana head off to Russian Market, where we’d planned a nice scrumptious lunch of no Khmer/Thai (i.e. what we eat everyday) and I had my heart set on salad. Then there was the phone call and I had to change my plans. I decided I’d grab a moto and head to Russian market; pick up something to eat/head back to my apartment for money, and head over to assist this person. 

When I got to Russian market I sprang off the moto and looked for my co-workers. As I crossed the road— in the slow, snakelike pattern in which one can only cross the road in Cambodia, I saw her but only too late. Or maybe she saw me first.... The point is she collided right into me and I looked down and felt the push of the motorcycle right up against my right thigh. Let me tell you, GOOD thing I was wearing pants. As I flew sideways and crash-landed on my butt, my brain tried to catch-up with what had just happened…

[Thought process]

Did a moto just hit me?
Uuuhh OMG what if I broke my tailbone! I can’t get up... I’m going to die!!!!
Why is everybody staring at me and nobody is helping me up? Cambodian’s are brutal man, they leave road kill to fend for itself.

Looking up, I felt my palms burning on the black asphalt but simply stared straight at a foreigner I had seen right before I crossed. I think he sensed that all I wanted was for someone to help me up, and this forty-something family man left his kids to come rescue me from the middle of the road.

“Just put your arms around my neck honey.” 

I think that’s when I started to tear. As I crossed over to the shaded corner, a little Cambodian couple offered me the tiniest little plastic chair to sit in, and I really started to stifle back those tears then.

“Do you have everything, your purse?  The girl is gone, they just get scared,”  The man explained.  Was he apologizing for her?  I’ve been here long enough to not expect anything back. Luckily when I was hit, I had miraculously managed to clutch my little wallet the entire time. Usually road kill lose their precious goods- backpacks, laptops, purses, limbs, the works.

Anyways.

The man disappeared and the little Cambodian couple noticing my state of shock pulled out a little red container of Tiger Balm and the woman began holding my hand and spreading it over my bare arms. Note:  I had no scratches on my arms, just incredible butt pain.  Tears started streaming out. Ugh.

Usually I never cry so clearly I’m in shock. I process this and try to decide what to do—food? I want to throw up. Help that person I was supposed to be helping? I need help.  I began to tear again and then the American guy showed up on his motorcycle, after dropping off his kids. He offered to take me to his shop where I could sit. “Actually, do you mind taking me to my flat?” I wanted to go cry somewhere. Plus, I couldn’t stop shaking. “No problem, honey.” Awe, Americans are so nice.

When he dropped me off, I ran up the stairs and started bawling my eyes out. You know when you just need a good cry (or your mom)? This was the moment. I cried as I made tea, I cried as I made spaghetti. I even cried while slicing carrots and then into my bowl of noodles. I swear I broke the record on senseless crying.  Between sobs, and incredible pain, which I tried to sedate with Celebrex, I got a phone call from Bijan:

“Wheeeere are you?”  “Um, I’m fine (sniff), I’m home actually (sniff).”  “Are you okay? You sound ill.”

“I got hit by a moto- but (sniff) I’M FINE. I’ll be in the office in an hour.”  “Fucking hell, are you alright?” I love the British. Great respectable accents in moments of crisis. Naturally, I laughed and this made me feel 100% better. Minus the pain in my “arse”.  

After washing myself, checking that no major damage was done— just nice purple bruising on my thigh to add to my collection of Cambodian-acquired beauty marks— I headed out the door to run my errand. Ah life. Sometimes you don’t see things coming and even if you do, it’s too late. BAM. Just get up again. Now if anyone knows where I can get the Girl Scout patch for getting hit by a moto and surviving, let me know…

Cambodia Wedding 2.0.

 I have a new job. Yes. A third one.  Somehow I’m managing my time right, though my gut tells me this can’t go on for too long. But for now things are good again. Tuesday through Thursday I spend my time at the Cambodian Human Rights Center, where I intern. You see, I’m trying to figure out what I should study in my post-graduate, and it could Human Rights. So three days I try to figure out if investigating rights violations is my calling. Actually I just research, work on several projects that have more to do with technology, and thoroughly revel in the joy of having international colleagues (as opposed to CNN when I was working from home).Then, last weekend I was invited to a Cambodian wedding for a colleague I had just met at my new internship at the CCHR. Yay! A field trip sponsored trip to the province and food is included! Yuppie!  Plus, I thought… It’ll be a GREAT bonding experience with my new co-workers, or at least for some language immersion. ENGLISH language immersion, that is. You see, the thing is, my new coworkers are well, yes Cambodian, but the other ones, they’re from New Zealand, Ireland, and the U.K. This makes for very interesting English translations. As the only American, I try to shed light on what it’s like to be a Yank, learn about rugby, closed-circuit televisions in London, studying in Europe, and how to greet the Queen of England. Seriously. Then we have less serious conversations. Like the other day at lunch:

Tom from New Zealand to the Waiter: 

“No, can we get the GREEN Fanta instead of the Orange Fanta?” 

Nod from the waiter. The can arrives, and Stacey (from the UK), Bijan (Iranian-English) and I stare at Dave (Team New Zealand) and Tom.

“What does it taste like?” Stacey asks. We all get a sip.

“Do you know what jolly-ranchers are? That’s what it tastes like,” I say.

Well, this just opened up a whole new discussion on candy, lollies, gummies, and I now know for a fact that jolly ranchers, which I described as hard-ass fruit gummies don’t exist in the UK or New Zealand. I only had North Americans Celine Dion and Kenny G to back me up, and they were really only backing up the restaurant’s music. The words “arse”, “bloody”, “rugby”, “root-boy” and a whole series of other terms make for truly engaging lunch and work conversations, which always leave me speaking my words a bit more carefully and feeling like I've joined the Harry Potter club. 

Anyways, back to the Wedding. So 8am Saturday morning we all show up, groggy, sleepy, and not ready for a day of sweating in dresses and dress shirts and pants.  Turns out the scheduled 1 hour drive (really 2 hours) takes us into some unknown area of Cambodia—well, unknown to me— so that we are thick into the jungle, rumbling along those dirt-roads that make walking around Cambodian villages so magically story-like. Six Barangs (foreigners) clamber out of the bus with our fellow Cambodian colleagues, and we are paraded into a colorful tent for the wedding ceremony. We even take part in the hair-cutting/perfume spraying bit for good-luck.

After groom/bride dress changes (Cambodians usually change around 6 times during a wedding)… a meal that made me want to become a vegetarian…. And naptime or gambling time (chose your own activity according to gender) at the neighbor’s… 

A musician offers Tom a try at his fiddle-thing in exchange for a Marlboro Light.  Note:  Tom couldn’t even get a squeak from the strings.

 We also listened to some sweet band. Kidding. I have to admit, the silver dress on one of the singers was kind of cute. The boys certainly enjoyed it.

After sweating off probably close to 20 pounds, our colleagues declared enough was enough, and we climbed back into our field-trip bus, wishing the bride and the groom lots of luck before heading back to the Phnom Penh.