They’re loving their new skateboard, curtesy of Leslie C. Thanks from me and from them!
Sunday, August 18, 2013
This weekend I had the opportunity to visit my host family in Svay Rieng. Even though I know Phnom Penh’s where I’m supposed to be work-wise, I miss having my family around me and life in the countryside. I miss not having to lock every door at all times; I miss communal naps when it’s just too hot to function; I miss eating rice on the floor; I miss losing money to my dad in cards; I miss the kids; I miss my mom taking care of me. I even miss the damn ducks.
I was only there 24 hours, but it was the most refreshing 24 hours possible. I was greeted with abundant enthusiasm and crushing hugs from Chayna and Neath. Neath clung to me the whole time, making sure my arms stayed wrapped around her, and even trying to sleep in my bed before realizing that she’s not quite old enough to be without her mom. My family had a gigantic plate of french fries waiting for me upon arrival, and I was treated to one of my favorite dishes for dinner as an early birthday present. We all sat around, laughing, watching Loem and some cousins trying out the new skateboard (thanks, Leslie!). My mom, Chayna, and I played the Dr. Seuss Memory game I got him from the States. My dad went to the school to show off his new watch that his American daughter brought him. My mom was adamant that I sleep downstairs instead of upstairs in my old room; she didn’t want me to be so far away. I was able to catch up with several teachers over dinner and over morning fruit. And I got to spend the ride to and from the Rieng revisiting majestic scenes of endless fields that I sorely miss and are sadly missing from my new city life.
Next month’s visit can’t come soon enough…
I was only there 24 hours, but it was the most refreshing 24 hours possible. I was greeted with abundant enthusiasm and crushing hugs from Chayna and Neath. Neath clung to me the whole time, making sure my arms stayed wrapped around her, and even trying to sleep in my bed before realizing that she’s not quite old enough to be without her mom. My family had a gigantic plate of french fries waiting for me upon arrival, and I was treated to one of my favorite dishes for dinner as an early birthday present. We all sat around, laughing, watching Loem and some cousins trying out the new skateboard (thanks, Leslie!). My mom, Chayna, and I played the Dr. Seuss Memory game I got him from the States. My dad went to the school to show off his new watch that his American daughter brought him. My mom was adamant that I sleep downstairs instead of upstairs in my old room; she didn’t want me to be so far away. I was able to catch up with several teachers over dinner and over morning fruit. And I got to spend the ride to and from the Rieng revisiting majestic scenes of endless fields that I sorely miss and are sadly missing from my new city life.
Next month’s visit can’t come soon enough…
Today I made my way to Svay Rieng, taking a very familiar path for the first time in two months. This time, though, I had a unique insight via the only other foreigner (a Chinese man making his way to Vietnam) in the van. Through his experience, his eyes, I was able to project how far I’ve come in this country in the past two years. I think it’s a testament to how much the human body and spirit can adjust.
He was irritated by the wait time at the market and bewildered by the imprecise answers to ‘How much longer?’ ‘When we have enough customers’ was an impractical and indefinite as a structure for business. The stop at the bakery absolutely confounded him. That the ride should be a leisurely pursuit and not an efficient rush was bothersome. He gazed through the windows at Neak Loeung with awe, pity, and disgust at the conditions, beggars, and brazenness of the sellers. And all of this he had to do without communicating with the driver or other passengers (myself excepted since he had some English ability).
I sort of miss experiencing everything so freshly and so internally. I miss the challenge of throwing everything against my Western paradigms, trying to bring my expectations crashing down. I know there are still those walls, but they don’t seem so high, so insurmountable anymore.
He was irritated by the wait time at the market and bewildered by the imprecise answers to ‘How much longer?’ ‘When we have enough customers’ was an impractical and indefinite as a structure for business. The stop at the bakery absolutely confounded him. That the ride should be a leisurely pursuit and not an efficient rush was bothersome. He gazed through the windows at Neak Loeung with awe, pity, and disgust at the conditions, beggars, and brazenness of the sellers. And all of this he had to do without communicating with the driver or other passengers (myself excepted since he had some English ability).
I sort of miss experiencing everything so freshly and so internally. I miss the challenge of throwing everything against my Western paradigms, trying to bring my expectations crashing down. I know there are still those walls, but they don’t seem so high, so insurmountable anymore.
I’ve been back in Cambodia 8 days and in my new apartment for 3. Just as when I went back to visit the States, the readjustment was quite smooth. Reverse Culture Shock seems to have been too busy to bother with me.
Tonight, though, I had my first bad day in a while, and I was surprised by how I longed for the comforts of the West to be my reprieve. I left work thoroughly exhausted, not having quite conquered jet lag and having sat in front of a computer for 10 hours. I left in what had appeared to be the tail end of a monsoon-season storm. I was fooled.
I arrived at my apartment, soaked and shivering, and had to drudge patiently through the 4 different locked gates to get inside. Those proverbial ‘little things,’ the molehills of everyday annoyance, were magnified. I found myself inwardly cursing the traffic, the weather, and whoever has permanently parked their motorbike in the tiny alleyway to my stairs. I then proceeded to lose my keys for 30 minutes (they were still in the exterior lock) and cut myself on a can of pasta sauce.
All I wanted was to dry off, wrap myself in my comforter, and indulge in hot chocolate and a ready-to-eat meal. But my sarang inevitably always has ants in it, my comforter is back in the States leaving me with the blanket that came with the apartment, and meals are made from scratch and clean up must be immediate. Thankfully, I was at least able to hit 1 out of 4 with some hot chocolate packets I had shoved into my suitcase as an afterthought.
Post-shower, post-dinner, and post-calming down, I started to consider my situation. While in the States, I had longed to be back in Cambodia, so why is my inward reaction to stress to desire to be in the States? Or at least to have the comforts of the States? So I’m working on it. These types of associations die hard. Slowly but surely, I’m working on challenging and changing what I deem a comfort or reward activity. Instead of ice cream, why not a tuk-a-luk from the corner vendor; instead of a burger, why not Cow Climbs the Mountain or ban-chaio; instead of escaping into a couch, why not escaping to the countryside?
Tonight, though, I had my first bad day in a while, and I was surprised by how I longed for the comforts of the West to be my reprieve. I left work thoroughly exhausted, not having quite conquered jet lag and having sat in front of a computer for 10 hours. I left in what had appeared to be the tail end of a monsoon-season storm. I was fooled.
I arrived at my apartment, soaked and shivering, and had to drudge patiently through the 4 different locked gates to get inside. Those proverbial ‘little things,’ the molehills of everyday annoyance, were magnified. I found myself inwardly cursing the traffic, the weather, and whoever has permanently parked their motorbike in the tiny alleyway to my stairs. I then proceeded to lose my keys for 30 minutes (they were still in the exterior lock) and cut myself on a can of pasta sauce.
All I wanted was to dry off, wrap myself in my comforter, and indulge in hot chocolate and a ready-to-eat meal. But my sarang inevitably always has ants in it, my comforter is back in the States leaving me with the blanket that came with the apartment, and meals are made from scratch and clean up must be immediate. Thankfully, I was at least able to hit 1 out of 4 with some hot chocolate packets I had shoved into my suitcase as an afterthought.
Post-shower, post-dinner, and post-calming down, I started to consider my situation. While in the States, I had longed to be back in Cambodia, so why is my inward reaction to stress to desire to be in the States? Or at least to have the comforts of the States? So I’m working on it. These types of associations die hard. Slowly but surely, I’m working on challenging and changing what I deem a comfort or reward activity. Instead of ice cream, why not a tuk-a-luk from the corner vendor; instead of a burger, why not Cow Climbs the Mountain or ban-chaio; instead of escaping into a couch, why not escaping to the countryside?
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