Care Packages

A few of you have inquired as to what I could use that you could send in a package, so I thought I'd share a few ideas. First of all, let me say that words fail to describe the pleasure of packages in the Peace Corps. “Hey. You have a package in the mail room” someone might tell you. “A PACKAGE?!!?” you squeal with delight before running off to claim what will surely be the highlight of your day, or week, or month. Thanks to packages, I’ve been able to expose the joys of Oreos, Mac 'n' cheese, and Nutella to Cambodian friends and family, and I can assure you: lives have been changed. So, if you’re feeling generous and care to send a package, but need some ideas, here are a few.

Ziploc bags. I can never have too many of these. The best kind are the ones with the re-sealable zipper, as those get the tightest seal and are best able to keep out the ants.

Luna Bars. Not having gone so much as a month without these since before my freshman year of college, I think I've created a lifelong addiction that not even two years in the Peace Corps offers any hope of breaking. I’ve been maniacally rationing out the ones I have received in packages- dividing and savoring them in fourths. Caramel nut brownie is my favorite. If you sent a package filled with nothing but Luna bars, I’d be thrilled.

Cliff bars, Nature Valley Bars, TLC, and Kashi bars. I’m a bar lover. My love for bars is indiscriminate.

Baby wipes. These come in handy for all kinds of purposes, as I’m sure you can imagine.

Wet Ones.

Peanut butter.

Cotton balls and Q-tips.

Ped-Egg.

Fragrance-free lotion.

Stain stick. I’ve yet to come across this in Phnom Penh, and it’d be useful for the poor pits of my collared shirts I am obligated to wear every day to school.

Individual packets of oatmeal- any flavor

Mixed nuts.

Cereal! Kashi Go Lean Crunch and Heart to Heart are a couple of favorites.

If you are unable or don’t want to send a package (shipping isn’t cheap, I know), I always love receiving letters too!

Leah Mortenson (PCV)

Peace Corps Cambodia

U.S. Embassy

P.O. Box 2453

Phnom Penh 3

Kingdom of Cambodia

ASIA

Tis the Season?

Christmas in Cambodia means redefining a lifetime’s accumulated expectations of this particular holiday. SNOW, Christmas music, Santa in the mall (the mall? What’s that?)— all gone— replaced by weather in the 80s, green leaves on the trees, flowers in bloom… I have to rub my eyes to believe the reality before me, which in no way resembles any conception of “December” I’ve previously had.

The good thing about Cambodia’s bearing no resemblance to Christmastime in the U.S. is it makes it fairly easy to delude myself into thinking it’s not really December at all. No holiday shopping? No 24 hours of A Christmas Story? Well then, it simply cannot be Christmas. Self delusion’s been working to an extent, but I’ve been forced into recognizing what season it is by random bits of Christmas popping up here and there: on the back of a student’s fuzzy red hoodie, for example, a fat, sequined Santa ho ho ho’ing: Merry Christmas! to all of Cambodia’s bewildered Buddhist community.

Explaining Christmastime to Cambodians is an inconceivable task. “You know, there’s snow in America right now.” Blank stare. I tried explaining how sometimes it gets so cold, your breath freezes. Of course, I didn’t have the vocabulary for this in Khmer: “It’s like…. When you breathe out….” One of my students offered, “There’s snow?” I liked this mental image so I went with it: America: Where it gets so cold, you breathe out snow.

A couple of nights ago at dinner, I tried again with my family: “… And then we put socks on the fireplace” (amazingly, there is a word for “fireplace” in Khmer—though I’m sure few have actually seen one—but not knowing it at the time, I drew one on the whiteboard). As I went on, explaining in broken Khmer this strange, consumerist, hazily Christian holiday of ours, I found myself thinking of David Sedaris and the rest of his french class trying to reconstruct Easter for a Moroccon student.

On I trudged: “Man, big, with fathermouth* color white, and long long, he enter into your house and he give you the presents. He put them under a tree, and he put sugar in socks of yours. If you are person bad, he give you—” At this point I dash to the back of the house to retrieve a piece of coal to illustrate my point. “—coal!” (I learned the word for coal is actually the same as the French word, which is handy: carbon). “We gives Santa cakes and water breast cow**, but we not never seen him.”

Interestingly, the Khmer New Year is, I guess, a lot like Christmas; there is a “god” (Santa) that comes to all of the good, law-abiding citizens’ houses to bring them good luck. Even though nobody’s ever seen him, you’re expected to leave out small cakes and plates of fruit to “give him energy” for his travels. The holiday’s in April and lasts for about a week or so—all the schools shut down and everyone parties. It does sound a lot like Christmas to me when you get right down to it, especially after my students and I established that Christmas is really just a “Christian party” (word choice courtesy of my students).

So, maybe I am not experiencing the holiday season as I have known it to be in the U.S., but it looks like I will get to experience much of the same sorts of festivities and traditions that make Christmas worth it anyway: the food, friends, family, and of course, relaxation (a practice, I must admit, Cambodians are much more apt at than Americans). Until then, I wish you a very happy holiday season, filled with love, overeating, and family.

"Christmas"

*beard

**milk

The Great Escape

Several of you have already sent your love in the form of e books. For this, I thank you very much! You have no idea how happy this makes me and how grateful I am for your support. I have gotten great book recommendations in the comments section and in e-mails, and have had some requests to share mine with you, so I had a thought: why not write a blog post, solely dedicated to what seems to be our (mine and my fellow readers’) mutual passion for books?

So, here is a list of all the books I have read thus far while in Cambodia, with a brief thought or two regarding if the book was worth my time, and/or if I think it will be worth yours:

Animal Dreams, Barbara Kingsolver. Kingsolver is one of my favorite authors, so anything she’s written comes highly recommended by me.

Harry Potter (1-4, only. Still waiting to download 5-7!)

Culture Shock! Cambodia. Recommend this if you plan on traveling to Cambodia (say, to visit me?), or are interested in getting a “traveler’s overview” of the country.

What is the What? by Dave Eggers. This is a beautifully written book and shows how versatile a writer Eggers is, able to jump into anyone’s story and capture it from the inside out.

I have America Surrounded, John Higgs. Interesting insight about the LSD movement in San Francisco in the 60s.

First comes Love, then comes Malaria. Okay, okay. Yes, this is as cavity-causing as it sounds like it would be, but in my defense I, a) picked it up on a whim in the Peace Corps office and so had no idea what I was getting myself into, and b) a little fluff every once in a while never hurt anybody.

When Broken Glass Floats. Only read about half of this. It didn’t captivate me, but maybe you’ll have more luck. Personally, if you want to know more about the Khmer Rouge, my recommendation is First they Killed my Father, which is coming up…

Brave New World. Needed a refresher since high school.

On the Road, Jack Kerouac.

Down and Out in Paris and London. Highly recommend this book to anyone interested in learning a different side of Orwell- one that’s not science fictiony.

Orientation and Other Stories, Daniel Orozco.

Me Talk Pretty One Day. I love David Sedaris.

Atlas Shrugged. This is by far the most profound book I’ve read yet while in Cambodia. Rand is an incredible writer- lyrical, perceptive, and ethical. I LOVED this book and highly recommend it to anyone who has the time and the inclination to delve into it. It’s over 1000 pages and so a bit of an endeavor, but I promise, it’s worth it.

Hot Water Music. Bukowski is kind of a jerk, and his characters, pretty much without exception, are assholes, but I get sucked in anyway.

Dharma Punx. Not a work of staggering genius, but provides some perspective into a small pocket of people who’ve taken their angsty punk rage and created some kind of spirituality with it. Kind of interesting and a very quick read.

At Home, Bill Bryson.

Let the Great World Spin. Loved this book. Great characters and active scenery.

Naked, Sedaris.

First they Killed My Father. This is a wonderful book if you’d like a glimpse into the Khmer Rouge from the perspective of someone who lived through it.

Ham on Rye. Again, Bukowski is a jerk but somehow I can’t put him down.

Off the Rails in Phnom Penh. Thought this author was a pretentious asshole when I started the book, but it’s actually really informative if you can get beyond that. Good read if you’re interested in learning about the darker side of Cambodia’s capitol: “into the dark heart of guns, girls, and ganja” as the subtitle reads.

Doors of Perception into Heaven and Hell (in progress), Aldous Huxley. Recounts Huxley’s first experience taking Mescaline.

Holidays on Ice, Sedaris.

Middlesex (in progress), Jeffrey Eugenides.

Bilbo le hobbit (in progress), Tolkien. Discovered this by chance in my school's library. Read about three chapters and then promptly forgot about it.

I may just create a new section on my blog so these are easier to access, and keep adding to the list.

So now, to jump briefly to something completely different; as some of you know, Sunday was my birthday! I am now 23, and still considered a “k’mayne k’mayne” (young’n) amongst Cambodians. After having a lovely conversation with my mom (the real one, in America) for over an hour, I set off to start my day of celebration. My Bong S’rei Ohn (my friend from the market who I’ve gotten pretty close to the past few months), told me from the beginning of my service— back in October— after she’d found out when my birthday was that she would make sure I had a noam cake and a party. Birthdays aren’t really a big deal in Cambodia after you’re about one, but S’rei Ohn knows that this isn’t the case in America, and wanted to make sure I wouldn’t feel forgotten about. I was sure she’d forgotten all about this by the time my birthday rolled around, but she didn’t, and I was able to enjoy a real cake (real by Cambodian standards; it was essentially a muffin with cool whip), on my birthday, and we indeed had a party with her family.

That is a can of silly string on the table.

Sparklers, firecrackers… it was really more like the fourth of July than my birthday.

Kramer baby!

As you can see, it was quite the celebration. I was by no means anticipating so much pomp and circumstance, and expected my first birthday in Cambodia would be a much lonelier affair. But due to the love and generosity I’ve discovered in the friends I’ve made, it ended up being a day I won’t soon forget. My birthday also happened to fall on S’rei Ohn’s cousin’s wedding, so to continue the festivities in the afternoon, I tagged along with the rest of the family. The usual eating, drinking, and boppy Khmer music ensued, and, sometime in the early evening, we called it a day.

That’s about all from here, for now! Hope you are all healthy, happy, and well.

Rongia Naa!

The month is December. My birthday month. The month of Christmas, and New Years Eve. By the looks of it, none of this is evident in Cambodia, where it is still 80 degrees midday. Living in 100 plus weather for much of the year, Cambodians clearly aren’t used to these “cooler temperatures” and I struggle not to shake them as I see how they’ve reacted: winter coats, fur lined zip-ups, hats, gloves… The works. It is horrifying. And I know it’s real because I’ve seen people genuinely shiver! All the while, I am still sweating. Heh.

Case in point: Two days ago, it was extremely humid since the “sky wanted to rain.” I was sitting at the kitchen table and my mom turns to me with a chill, (as sweat is pouring down my face), and says “rongia naa!” (it’s so cold!!)

Twenty degrees may not be a lot, but it makes a difference in certain departments of life. For example, my bucket baths are now something I dread, rather than look forward to. During the rainy season, when it was extremely hot and humid all day, I couldn’t wait till my morning and evening bucket baths, which were necessary respites from the heat. Now, I have to mentally and physically prepare myself for a moment before pouring that first bucket of cold water over my head. It is, however, a nice change of pace to go from sweating 75% of the time, to sweating maybe 50% of the time.

Since most of my afternoons are fairly free, subtract Khmer lessons and English club with my younger kids, I’ve already devoured much of my personal library. If you care to assist in adding to my dwindling pile, I’ve put together a wish list of e-books on Amazon. If you search my name, you should be able to find my list, and you can “gift” a book to me on the website, which should then send the order number to my e-mail address so that I can download it. For any willing participants, THANK YOU. You have no idea what a difference it makes as a Peace Corps volunteer to know that regardless of how the day goes, you can cozy up with a good book to engage in some necessary escapism at the end of it.

Merry December!

Barang

Barang is a term here used to describe any foreigner with light skin. It used to be a description unique to the French, when they were occupying Cambodia, but has, over time, come to encompass all foreigners with lighter skin.

I learned this term quickly when I got to Cambodia, as it was the word being yelled at me across both sides of the street from children, teenagers, and adults. Of course, a group of twenty or so of us had just invaded their small community for our pre-service training, so our presence was overwhelming and came as a shock to many who had never seen a light skinned person before.

At first, when I was called a barang, I didn’t really take any offense to it. It was called out in a friendly way, out of recognition, so I’d acknowledge whoever yelled with a “hello!” or “suasadye!” Then after a while, it sort of evolved to be something I resented being associated with. The tone of voice used when uttering it was more disdainful and the word seemed to be spit out.

I am still addressed as a barang on occasion—mainly when I visit a new province, or go on a long bike ride out of my village—but it’s stopped bothering me because I’ve realized it’s said out of ignorance rather than disdain. The person who calls me a barang does so because he/she doesn’t know me, and doesn’t know the work I am doing here.

So today, I saw my first other barang in my village- probably just passing through. And you know what I felt? Not a sense of solidarity, or a curiosity to know this other person. I felt resentment and suspicion. Like, I wanted this person to leave, and had no interest in knowing if she was another volunteer, like me, here to try to help in the best way she knows how. I shared this with a fellow P.C. volunteer, who was surprised; when she sees another volunteer, she sees them as she sees herself: here to do good work and try to help. She sees them as allies.

Now, unfortunately, I am not this optimistic. By nature, I am more suspicious of people, I guess. I’m open to being proven wrong, but I tend to set the bar pretty low first. This is not something I’m proud of about myself, it’s just a fact. But realizing my own hypocrisy and acknowledging that I saw this barang through much the same lens that Cambodians who don't know me, view me, made me feel more understanding towards Cambodians who are uncertain how they should feel towards me. They may never have seen a white person before, or if they have, maybe the association was a negative one, so their natural inclination is to be a little wary.

All this is to say, that I’m going to try a little harder to be more open-minded towards fellow foreigners working here, and see them as I hope Cambodians will see me: as an ally and not an enemy.