I Miss Your Face like Hell

In July I mark my seventh year of having lived in Cambodia, and I find myself looking back on this journey and the people who have been with me along the road of my life so far.

A year from now we'll all be gone
All our friends will move away
And they're going to better places
But our friends will be gone away

I received my invitation to Peace Corps Cambodia the day I graduated from college. Already I was at a crossroads in my life, with friends graduating and moving and considering my own next home, knowing only that it would not be back in Indiana. A few weeks before my flight, Jessie, Steph, and I attended a concert in Millennium Park where I first heard The Head and The Heart play Rivers and Roads. The refrain echoed on and on with tears welling in my eyes, standing next to two amazing people and thinking of all the others in my life and how we were spreading not just across the nation but across the world…. Rivers and roads….rivers and roads till I reach you….

Sitting alone in OHare and waiting for my flight, I put that same song on repeat as I read through letters from friends filled with words of love and well-wishing and the promises not to drift apart. Life is not static, though, and goodbyes are inevitable. With hope and hard work those goodbyes are not eternal, but, even when they are, the people on our journeys are an integral part of shaping the path ahead of us. Sometimes our paths converge again, and I rejoice when they do, but I know that my loved ones have their own paths to follow to their own better places. And this is the path I must take.

Nothing is as it has been
And I miss your face like Hell
And I guess it's just as well
But I miss your face like Hell

You all are living your own best lives, and I am so proud and in awe of each and every one of you: whether raising the next generation of fabulous individuals, serving in your dream job, and/or still figuring yourself and your path out. Whether you know it or not – whether you intend to or not - all of you are changing the world around you for the better. With the world seeming to crumble around us, my heart is lightened being reminded of those of you in my life and knowing that goodness and love prevails in people.

It is just as well. But, god, I miss your face like hell.

Been talking 'bout the way things change
And my family lives in a different state
And if you don't know what to make of this
Then we will not relate
So if you don't know what to make of this
Then we will not relate

While I was preparing to leave for what should have been just two years of service with Peace Corps, my mom commented that she felt like she was saying goodbye forever and that I would not return.

I know you sometimes feel I abandoned you – sometimes I feel that way myself – but please know that I left a piece of my heart with you and there it will remain.

Rivers and roads can create a chasm of loneliness. Whether it’s remembering those on the path behind us or saying goodbye to someone taking a different fork ahead of us, whether that person is family or friend, distance is a tangible ache.

Rivers and roads
Rivers and roads
Rivers 'til I reach you

But over rivers and roads, I’m also converging paths with new people. Even more, I’m learning to love and learn across the rivers and roads of culture and language and I hope creating a bridge for others to do the same.

We cannot explore new roads without first leaving our current ones and crossing those rivers to new adventures and new people to know and to love.

Rivers and roads
Oh rivers and roads
Oh rivers 'til I reach you

I’ve been so privileged to live in a world where rivers and roads are not eternal barriers as technology connects us all. I’m sorry to everyone with whom I have not maintained a strong enough bridge through time and space. Know that you are missed.

Rivers and roads
Rivers and roads
Rivers 'til I reach you

Why I'm a Peace Corps Volunteer

Peace Corps focuses on relationships. Of its three main goals, two are about the results of those relationships. It’s about making this world smaller, about connecting people and places. 

I knew nothing about Cambodia when I received my invitation to serve here with Peace Corps, barely even knew it was a country. If I had ever been taught about the Khmer Rouge, I didn’t remember. I stepped off the plane in Phnom Penh full of ignorance but excited to learn.

And I have learned. But more than that, I have loved. I love the people I have met. I love my host family, my work colleagues, my friends, and even my breakfast seller. So when I’m asked when I’m going home and fellow Americans express shock that I could want to stay in Cambodia past my tenure with Peace Corps, I ache. I ache because if I’m getting that question and receiving that surprise, then I haven’t done my job.

Honestly, I doubt my Bachelor’s degree in English Literature can make much of a development difference in Cambodia. But I hope that it can help me put my love for these people into words, to make this world a bit smaller and connect my American family and friends with my Cambodian family and friends. That’s why I’m a Peace Corps Volunteer.

Elie Wiesel, a survivor of a different genocide, posits that peace is found in relationships: “We must not see any person as an abstraction. Instead, we must see in every person a universe with its own secrets, with its own treasures, with its own sources of anguish, and with some measure of triumph.”

Cambodia has been experiencing protests and has had a strong minority of Senate seats unfilled due to those protests since July. I’d wager that not many Americans are aware of that. This world is a large place, and we all end up picking and choosing to whom to extend our attention and empathy. The remaining places are merely ‘the other,’ an abstraction of a place in the world where we barely blink an eye when someone is hurting.

And while I understand these limitations on empathy, I still rage against them. Because when a place – and the people in that place – becomes that ‘other,’ we begin to fail at ‘recognizing the humanity in others,’ at ‘seeing the dignity in every other human being everywhere’ (Desmond Tutu; Kurt Vonnegut).

My Peace Corps experience - my purpose in being here with this agency - is to bring Cambodia to life for my fellow Americans, to ensure that Cambodians get some small measure of Americans’ attention and empathy. To bring my love for these people, this place, to life through stories and pictures. My goal is to have you look into their eyes and realize that these people are not abstractions. They are mothers and fathers and sons and daughters and neighbors and friends and lovers. They are flawed. They are beautiful. They are not projects or objects for the charity of pity. They are human beings the same as you and me.

My hope is that you can love them through me and that that love will change the way you live.

My mother. She goes without much needed medical attention to make sure there's enough money for her grandchildren to be healthy and educated.

My boyfriend. I feel truly calm and happy in his presence. He works as a driver but puts his effort into a community school to increase love of learning in his village.

My niece and nephew. Every time I visit, I am met on the road with shouts of glee and bear hugs. My nephew has watch Mulan 12 times. My niece loves to dance.

My sister and my niece, two of the strongest, most independent women I know. And they look damned good in a dress.

My nephew, a typical teenager: he's at the top of his class, stalks pretty girls on facebook, and is saving up to take a road trip with his friends.

My favorite aunt, seen here laughing hysterically with my best friend. She's a midwife at the same health center where her husband is the director. I love to watch how in love they are.

My friend. He's the main teacher at Countryside Class, which he did for two years on a volunteer basis. He has shared with the students his love of song and dance, and they recently performed and studied in workshops at Create Cambodia.

My boyfriend's niece and the giver of the best hugs in Cambodia. She is one of the funniest and most gregarious kids I've ever had the pleasure of knowing.

My friend and his son at their home in Pursat. He is the most trusted tuk tuk driver in Phnom Penh.

My favorite tuk tuk driver in Siem Reap, who became a great friend when he was the guide for Vaughn, Jessie, and I. He works hard for his parents and siblings and spends as much time as he can helping at an orphanage.

Some of the teachers at my school in Svay Rieng. This picture was taken at a Christmas party they threw so I wouldn't be homesick. They all pitched in so we could eat at my favorite restaurant.

My favorite class of students. They were all good-spirited goofballs. 

When Peace Corps Volunteers Fall in Love

Peace Corps, at its core, is all about relationships. The agency's relationship with the host country's government. The Volunteers' relationships with their host families. With their work counterparts. With others in their communities. With people outside their communities. And their relationships with fellow Volunteers. 

And, every once in awhile, it becomes a romantic relationship between a Volunteer and someone from their host country...

This is my good friend Vaughn. He arrived with me in July 2011 as part of Cambodia's 5th group of Peace Corps Volunteers.A bit over a year ago one of his Cambodian friends introduced him to Sreymao. This past weekend they were married. 

Sean, Saeed, and I were grateful to be able to participate in the ceremonies on behalf of the groom since Vaughn's family could not attend. Cambodian culture and tradition are rich and intricate, and even though the family opted for a much smaller event in which every traditional ceremony was not performed, the day was full of beauty and complexity.

The evening before Vaughn and Sreymao joined her parents and Vaughn's stand-in parents to pray to their ancestors. They made an offering of rice and other foods and burnt incense with a prayer. Vaughn and Sreymao promised to maintain their union with honor in order to keep blessing upon the entire family. As a symbol of these promises, each of them placed a set of clothing in a red box to keep present during the following day's festivities. 

That night we also got busy preparing the groom's dowry. Each silver plate was filled with colorful and flavorful fruits, wrapped in saran wrap, and topped with a bow. Every plate had its pair, an identical plate so that the day's procession could go two-by-two. In addition to the fruit, the dowry included drinks, crackers, and a pig's head.

In the morning, not long after sunrise, we completed the groom's processional. The groom must arrive at the bride's gate with the agreed upon dowry in hand in order to receive the parents' permission to enter and meet the bride. If the bride and groom are from the same village, the processional starts at his house and might take quite some time to complete. Since we couldn't exactly walk from Minnesota, we simply walked out the gate, lined up, and walked right back in.

The sunrise processional, though, did not start our day. We were up at 3am to attend to the bride and prepare her for the day. Around 4am was one of the most beautiful ceremonies, in my opinion. The officiator, seen in the white shirt with his back to the camera, led a back-and-forth conversation among the groom and bride and their parents. They talked about love and respect, both within their couple and within their families. Similar to the unity candle tradition in the States, each parent, two on each side, lit a candle and held that flame to light a candle held jointly by Vaughn and Sreymao. Sreymao marks this as the moment that they were officially considered married in the traditional sense. 

All of these ceremonies are so beget in history and tradition that each one has its own soundtrack of sorts. 

A short clip of the band's playing can be found here:

After the groom's processional, some of the guests stayed out in the yard while the closest family and friends went upstairs for a few more ceremonies. First, one of Sreymao's relatives performed the duty of 'matchmaker' and introduced both Vaughn and Sreymao as well as the idea of them as a couple. She presents their qualifications for the approval of the parents and the officiator. 

Somewhat less traditionally, Vaughn and Sreymao re-exchanged their engagement/wedding rings. The photographer snapped away as first Vaughn placed the ring on her finger and then kissed her hand. Sreymao then did the same for him. Finally, they asked Vaughn to present Sreymao with a red rose, which he flourished to her with playful exageration.  

After a clothing change (of which there were many over the course of the day - I recall at least 5 different outfits), we performed the knot tying ceremony. Family and close friends presented the bride and groom with an envelope of money, which they placed between both their hands, sprinkled them with water, and then tied a red string of their wrists. These red strings are the most visible notification that someone was recently married as it is customary to wear them until they fall off (anything under three days will not preserve the good luck of the blessings). Many couples will save a few of the strings to tie to the wrists or ankles of their future children.

Starting around the time of the processional and continuing throughout the day guests arrived to share in the ceremonies or simply the breakfast or lunch and the dancing which went until about 4pm. As each guest arrived, they were presented with a small gift from the new couple. Seen here below are two adorable girls waiting to pass out red envelopes of 200 riel (about 5 cents) to arriving guests.

Even though Vaughn's American family could not come, he was not without those who loved him. His host family from Svay Rieng Province made the trip to Prey Veng to offer their congratulations. 

In all, we arrived at Sreymao's house at about 4pm on Saturday and didn't stop celebrating until late on Sunday. The event may have been exhausting, but the newlyweds sure were happy.

My Staff Spotlight in Peace Corps Cambodia's Weekly Update

Welcome to Staff Spotlight, where our staff will be in the limelight every week so that Volunteers and other staff have the chance to get to know about a crucial member of our team. This week we are talking to the super-friendly, high-achieving lacrosse goalie with two families: one of the PCVLs, Christin.



Christin describes herself as “a proud Hoosier from Northwest Indiana, which is actually a suburb of Chicago” (Yeah right, Christin). She traveled north for school though, and attended Albion College where she studied English Literature, Political Science, and Leadership in Public Policy and Service. At school she was an ultra popular RA, heavily involved in volunteerism (who’da guessed?), served as President of the Student Volunteer Bureau, and played goalie for the lacrosse team. After graduating, Christin joined Peace Corps Cambodia as an ETTT PCV and she has been here ever since.

During inquiries about her family, Christin wanted to talk about both her American family and her Khmer family. Her parents in America, she says, are awesome, hard-working people currently enjoying a well-deserved retirement and getting ready to move to northern Michigan. She also has one older brother and sister-in-law who, as she puts it, are waiting to produce nieces and nephews until she is Stateside under threats from our own PCVL. As for her Khmer family, Christin says she has been equally blessed; her parents learned how to make the best French fries at site for her, and her sister is one of her best friends in life. She didn’t indulge about her “awesome nieces and nephews” because she said that she will “gush your ear off about them all”.

When asked why she joined Peace Corps, Christin answered, “to become a better person.” “I wanted to be removed from my isolated bubble of homogeneity,” she says, “and experience difference in a way that cultivated a better understanding of universal humanness as opposed to labels of differentiation.” She adds, “Peace Corps offered me exactly the opportunity I was seeking: to travel, be challenged, to learn, to teach, and to serve. I stayed a third year with Peace Corps because I love what it stands for. Although Peace Corps may not always get it right, it tries and the potential for changed lives is endless…Plus, I just really love this country. I am amazed and humbled every day by the people I have met and by the development and change happening so quickly in a post-conflict society. “ When asked what she would like to see Peace Corps Cambodia accomplish, Christin answered, “To have all Volunteers who have ever served here to maintain at least one host country national relationship throughout the rest of their life. “

Now that’s a goal. Get to know Christin through some of her answers below.

Why would a Volunteer contact you?

I’m here for you. Anything you need: someone to talk to, help with a project, a link to different resources, whatever. I also coordinate staff development sessions and am working with the other PCVLs to start a Peace Corps Cambodia website.

What is a cool or interesting fact about yourself that you would like to share with Volunteers?

I was captain of my elementary school’s chess club, which won a trophy at the state tournament. I also played Parks Department Baseball for a few years as the only girl in the league. I was the catcher. My team, the Rangers, was runner up in the 1997 championship.

What is the coolest or most interesting thing you have learned about Khmer culture so far?

I’ve grown to love the communal aspect of Khmer family life. My family compound comes with two houses and 9 people. My parents took in their grandson from Takeo Province to ensure that he could attend school. My 16 year-old nephew takes responsibility for his 6 year-old cousin’s education. When my sister needs to go to work, there are at least 3 other people there to watch her baby. I’m a middle-class Midwesterner; I was taught the value of personal responsibility and never relying on others, so living in such an intra-reliant familial unit has been a new and rewarding experience for me.

Do you have a good Volunteer story you would like to share?

As I was preparing to move out of Svay Rieng Province, I spent a lot of time writing letters of appreciation in Khmer to the people who mattered most to me in my community. The letter I worked on the hardest was the letter to my host family. My last night at home, my mom, sister, and I sat outside talking for a long time and I gave them their gift. My mom asked my sister to read the letter aloud. As I listened, red with embarrassment, I was horrified to realize a rather tragic copying mistake. Where I had intended to write, ‘When you look back on our time together, please think about the good things and forget the bad things,’ I had forgotten a line in copying and written, ‘When you look back on our time together, please think about the bad things.’ Both my sister and my mom busted out laughing and still tease me about it. I offered to rewrite the whole letter to fix it, but they refused. As my mom put it, now, when they miss me and read the letter, they’ll laugh as well as cry.

Here’s hoping every Volunteer has such a great story to share. Thank you for your time, Christin! Volunteers can contact Christin through email, telephone, signing up for an all-boys baseball team, or just dropping by the Lod Cha cart in front of the office in the morning to see if she’s hungry.

Our Trip to Vannak's

For last year’s Pchum Ben Festival, I and the other Svay Rieng Peace Corps Volunteers ventured by bike to our friend Vannak’s house where we spent the day playing with puppies and piglets and riding water buffalo. (You can read my previous post about this trip here: http://mylifewithrice.blogspot.com/2013/05/this-is-my-friend-vannak-man-not-water.html)

For this year’s Pchum Ben Festival, I and 12 others again visited Vannak and his family, but this time we hit up his in-laws in Pursat Province. In Cambodian culture, once married, the newlyweds will often move in with the bride’s family, so Vannak’s house isn’t with his own family in Svay Rieng where he grew up but in Pursat Province with his wife’s extended family.



Vannak’s wife and her family cooking up a feast for all the guests.



Vannak and his son.

Since Vannak’s house is in an extremely remote village outside of the provincial town, the plan was for him to come in with his District’s ra’mourk (a motorbike pulling a flat trailer) that runs in the morning to allow villagers to get to the major market in the town. Alas, we were foiled by rainy season with pouring, incessant rain from early morning until almost 11. Since the ra’mourk wouldn’t be able to get through in those conditions, we had to find our own transportation. Vannak got us in touch with a neighbor who had taken his motorbike into town, and he helped us find a van to fit all of us. The van-finding, though, was done with protest, since he assured us that nothing larger than a tuk tuk (essentially a motorbike-drawn carriage) would be able to pass on the roads. Frugality prevailed and we ignored his advice, renting a van to take us to Vannak’s house.

The neighbor acted as our driver’s guide, leading us down increasingly poor dirt roads, until we reached a canal running between two narrow paths. We ventured down the first path, stopping short where the road narrowed too much. The second path yielded no more success. So we piled out of the van, thanking our driver for his effort and commitment to the cause, and we walked the remaining two kilometers. Vannak’s village is so entirely remote, that we walked over a kilometer without seeing a single dwelling. His village is what I always envisioned I would live in during my time with Peace Corps, the no electricity, no paved roads, no school buildings type village.



Making the trek on foot after our van could not pass.



Vannak’s back yard.

Upon arriving at the home, we greeted everyone in the formal Cambodian manner of placing our palms together, fingers up, and bowing slightly. We chatted with Vannak, and he showed us around the area a bit, taking special note of river where we immediately went swimming while lunch was being cooked. I’m fairly sure we were the first foreigners most of the children had ever interacted with, so we were quite the wary fascination for them, and we had a large crowd examining us during (and after) our swim.



Enjoying the peaceful calm on the river bank before jumping right in.



Tysor’s flock of children.



Me, trying to bond with Vannak’s kid.

Lunch blended seemlessly into hours of socialization. We all chatted together, goofed off, and made new friends. Eventually, the music came out and the dance party started. Thankfully, we got the older ladies of the house to bust a move with us, which is atypical for Cambodian parties, and everyone seemed to get a kick out of it.



Willia and Oum gettin’ down.

Long before we were ready to say goodbye, it came time to leave. The only form of transportation available in the village was a plow modified to run on the road and trailing a large board. We all squeezed on, saying our goodbyes and accepting invitations to return at the next holiday. Two of the guys followed us on a motorbike to ensure our safe return, which ended up being a lifesaver as one of the plow’s tires blew and the motorbike was able to go borrow a tire from a neighboring village (they also proved extremely helpful as retrievers of our shoes and sunglasses that the rough bumps took flying).



Our ‘car’ for the trip back to town.

The strength of Peace Corps comes in the relationships you form. Because of our friendship with Vannak, we were able to meet people and have an experience that otherwise never could have happened. We we able to gain perspective and connections and empathy for a community we otherwise never would have known existed. We didn’t make any difference in anyone’s lives (except maybe provide some amusing tales), but we changed our own lives. It’s hard to live the same way after you’ve been in a village where you had to go to the neighbor’s house because your friend’s house didn’t have a bathroom, where your seemingly easy request for dancing music resulted in a concerted effort to find a music player and car batteries with which to play it, where an obviously poor family found enough meat to add to the vegetables you brought because you didn’t consider that they would feel rude not to provide you with meat for lunch. We’ll never forget our trip to Vannak’s.

I was nervous about moving to Phnom Penh, scared to be on my own without the love, support, and encouragement of living with a host family. And, while I’m still saddened to be so far from my Svay Rieng family, I’m finding that I’ll also have a family here in my landlord and fellow tenants.

My landlord, 79 years old and a former professor turned entrepreneur, is fulfilling a grandfather-esque roll for me in his repeated warnings to always double check my locks and never to travel with my passport. He and his wife are keeping me supplied with gifts of fruit.

My downstairs neighbor saw me taking my clothes to the laundromat around the corner and struck up a conversation about why I wasn’t washing my clothes myself. We talked about my work and travel schedule and how I haven’t had the needed free time to wash my things by hand, even though that’s what I prefer. Later that week she stopped me on my way upstairs to tell me to come to her with my laundry this weekend; she has a washing machine she wants me to use.

Her husband, who was visiting from another province where he watches the land while his wife watches the children in Phnom Penh, has spent a couple hours chatting with me in Khmer, being patient with my gaps in language knowledge. We’ve discussed Syria, economics, unemployment, Detroit, and Rwanda. He’s also told me his Khmer Rouge story. And, after asking where I’m from in the States, he looked it up on a map and we discussed the geography of my state, the surrounding states, and their proximity to Toronto, where he has family. He says he’d love to have me join their family trip to Bokor Mountain in a few months.

And then there’s Leak, the tailor on the ground floor, who is always there with a warm smile and friendly comment with her precocious daughter who reminds me so much of my niece Neath.

At the beginning of my third year in Cambodia through the Peace Corps, I am constantly grateful for the people whom I’ve met and the relationships we’ve formed together. I feel incredibly blessed to have had not just one amazing host family here but now this new ‘family’ as well.

Breaking My Heart

Nephew: Grandma, what did you mean that Aunt 'Tin is leaving soon?

Grandma: She's leaving our house. She's moving to Kandal to work there.

Nephew: What did you do to make her mad?!

How to Do Khmer New Year

#1. Make an offering of your favorite foods and treats at your house. At the moment the New Year begins (this year it was around 2:15 am), say your prayers and place and incense stick.

#2. Just take a load off and relax.

#3. Drink and eat more than your normal share of sugar and just go wild.

#4. Hang out with your family: eat, drink, make music, and be merry.

#5. Liven up your afternoons with a bit of gambling.

#6.  Dance with your family.

#7. Dance with strangers.

#8. Ask the monks to bless you and your family for the coming year.

#9. Join together with your family and pray for your ancestors.

#10. Karaoke.

I’ve begun trying to speak to the baby in English, and most of the time she can figure out my meaning but when she can’t, she pauses, looks me in the eye, nods slowly, and continues about her business. It makes me laugh every time because that’s my exact response when I don’t understand what’s being asked of me in Khmer.

The Day's Reflection - 28 April 2013

My school slows to a start in October and faces holidays and exams in February closely followed by more exams in March after which it doesn’t usually resume till the end of April or the beginning of May. Final exams are in the beginning to mid of June. So, essentially, the most productive teaching months are November, December, and January.

Well, this year, I was sick during December and January so my school attendance was spotty and my teaching mojo less than adequate. So now that school is in its last months (which are really weeks), I’m looking back and feeling regret at my contribution as a Peace Corps Volunteer in the English Teaching sector. 

Today helped ease those regrets. 

Yes, a goal of my service here is to provide technical assistance as requested by the host country’s government. But there are two more goals, and those goals are focused on cultural exchange. Today helped enforce and reminded me to appreciate that the greatest product of my work with Peace Corps is the relationship I have with my host family.

As my time in Svay Rieng is coming to an end, I had planned to make the most of it by taking my bike out every day to visit people and places and take a lot of pictures. Well, as soon as that plan formed, I ended up with stitches in my knee cap and am still not cleared to ride my bike again. So I’ve been spending a lot of time at the house, which, while bringing me to feelings of restlessness, has also forged an even deeper relationship with my amazing family here. 

So here’s a list of just a few of the moments today that made me reflect and smile about how my life has been changed by these people:

* The baby coming to me in frequent intervals to give me a hug or put her head on my lap or kiss my cheek or just smile at me

* My sister and I teasing each other about who is the stupidest

* My family planning what wedding present to send to my friend Kelsey who has sent a few care packages for my family

* Sprawling out on the floor with my niece, nephew, and mom as we wrote thank you notes to Dave and Kelsey for the new clothes they sent for the kids

* My mother telling me not to repay the $1.25 that I had to borrow for a taxi to town yesterday

* My father letting me know that he cut down some mangoes for me to eat; my mother apologizing for forgetting to have me take pictures of my father in the tree and telling me that in a couple days he’ll climb it again and that I can take a picture to show to my parents in America and tell them that my Khmer father loves me so much that he became a monkey to get me my favorite fruit

* My nephew calling me to lay in the hammock with him where he, the baby, and I practiced our letters and numbers in Khmer and English

* Teaching the baby to say ‘I love you!’

The Day's Reflection - 22 April 2013

Today I’m waiting for the doctor to call. When he swung by my house on Friday, he told me that he’d stop by again on Monday and that maybe I’d get my stitches out and be cleared to ride my bike. Well, today is Monday. But I don’t know what time he’ll come. Or if it’ll be just another quick cleaning at my house. Or if he’ll take me to town to the clinic. Or maybe he won’t call and won’t come. I don’t know.

If I were in the States, this waiting and the unknown would bother me. Here, though, I’m too ashamed to even consider being bothered. 

First, the doctor has done everything for me for free: xray, debridement, stitches, antibiotic, a ride to my house, and a house call. He says that because I am a volunteer who has come to help his country, he wants to do something to help me. I have failed in my attempts to express how grateful I am to him. 

I recognize what a privilege I have being an American right now. I have the privilege of being able to follow through with the doctor’s orders to rest and not have to work to live. I have the privilege of the extra care my family is giving me since they recognize I am out of my element. I have the privilege of special care from the medical staff (being bumped to the front of the line ahead of people in much worse condition than me, being given a ride home from the clinic, being provided home visits, etc). 

But, mostly, being sick and/or hurt while living with survivors of genocide is drastically perspective shifting. Keeping my barely-injured knee elevated while my mother tells stories of life in the Khmer Rouge and my father stretches out his leg scarred from the war…well, I can’t really express what that does to one’s paradigm of pain and health and life moving on.

The Day's Reflection - 10 April 2013

I’ve never been in charge of my own kitchen. My family was more for take out or pre-made meals from the grocery store since all of us worked and had various other commitments. I went from there to a college with a great meal plan. Even during my semester in DC I didn’t do much cooking since my poor unpaid-intern self didn’t have money to spring for kitchen essentials, so I lived on cereal, raw fruits/vegetables, salads, pasta, and baked potatoes. From college, I entered the Peace Corps and have been living with a host family who has taken care of cooking for me. 

Next year, though, I’ll be moving from my village and my family in Svay Rieng and living alone and cooking alone in Kandal Province. Ergo, I have an urgent need to learn to cook. 

My sister has been gracious enough to provide me with cooking lessons, and she laughingly bemoans not having taught me sooner since I could have been helping pick up some slack in the household. 

Tonight we made fried eggplant with pork, and it was sublimely delicious. I really appreciate learning in this environment, but I worry that some of my newly acquired cooking skills won’t transfer well. For example, I’m pretty sure that in the States I won’t have to fend off aggressive ducks while chopping meat.

With each dish I learn, I get more and more excited to become a more independent person. However, I will miss cooking and bantering with my sister and holding the baby and letting her stir so she’ll stop crying. I dislike that my concept of independence is associated with separation from caretakers, and I’m becoming more and more attached to strong familial bonds that shape living situations in Cambodia.

The Day's Reflection - 9 April 2013

While I was growing up, my parents always enforced a Sunday afternoon nap. My brother and I hated it. I would always sneak from my room to his, being careful to sidestep the squeak in front of my parents’ door, and we would make a metropolis for his Matchbox cars in the folds of a crumpled blanket. 

Well, I’ve changed my tune. Not only do I love my Sunday afternoon naps now, but I also love my Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday afternoon naps. In fact, the whole country of Cambodia adores them. The heat is so unbearable during the noon time (and also to account for travel time by foot, bike, or motorbike) that my school breaks for a 3 hour lunch break (11am - 2pm). 

Because I opted out of buying a fan for my bedroom and I’m tired of sweating through my mattress (it reaches temperatures around 120 degrees in there in the afternoon), I now take my naps downstairs. Communal napping has become one of my favorite aspects of Khmer culture.

Today, I lay, curled up on the wooden couch that my family bought with my rent money about a year into my stay here. My father sprawled across our low-laying ‘bed,’ my sister and brother-in-law and their baby lay on their mattress in the corner where they all shared the same long pillow, and my nephew cuddled with my mother on the cool ceramic tile floor.

I drifted off to the sounds of my nephew slapping his thigh against the floor as he bounced his leg up and down and the sounds of my niece talking to the mermaid sticker in the palm of her hand.

I love having found that sleeping doesn’t need to be a lonely endeavor. 

Thinking of Joining the Peace Corps??

Dear Person Contemplating Joining Peace Corps,

I imagine that you’re at a transition point in your life. Perhaps you’ve just graduated, perhaps you’re going through a career change, perhaps you have an itch for something more that can’t be scratched. Whatever the reason, here you are: contemplating joining Peace Corps.

But should you? Is it right for you?

Honestly, you might not know that until you’ve arrived. You can research by reading books and official publications or by talking with current/returned volunteers, but everything you read and hear will probably tell you the same thing: every person’s experience is different. Your Peace Corps life will be uniquely shaped by your country, program, and site. 

I’d like to think, though, that there are a few things that are universal throughout the Peace Corps world, and those things tend all to revolve around how you yourself will change - for the better and for the worse - because of your time in Peace Corps.*

Sambath, his niece, a few of the girls from the school, and I went swimming in the river behind the house. Probably not the best decision health-wise, but we had a blast, and I got to start teaching the three young girls how to swim.