Library Project Update: Book Buying and Organization

The last time I mentioned my library project on here I think I had finished painting the inside walls, tables, bookshelves, and shutters, as well as painting the world map and shutters outside. Well, it’s now six months later and I just now have some new things to say…

The thing about doing a project in Cambodia is it’s never going to go according to plan. Deadlines will come and go with minimal activity, there will be periods of complete stagnation and then fleeting bursts of productivity. You have to be flexible and patient, and if you’re not naturally those things (i.e. me), you have to try to learn to be if you don’t want to go crazy.

Once all the aesthetic stuff was finished, I was feeling sort of overwhelmed with the prospect of addressing the actual technical issues at hand (but that's hard!). Since the librarian was filling in for a teacher who was in Korea from October until just a few weeks ago, the library was never open to students, or to anyone for that matter.

After lamenting about this conundrum to various people for some time, and talking to my friends Diana and Emma- both PCVs who’ve undertaken library projects- I realized I just needed to take charge to get things moving and not worry about the circumstances being perfect. If I waited around for everything to be in its right place, nothing would ever happen.

So, I decided to go to Phnom Penh to buy books. I invited my three student helpers from this summer to come with, but one of their dads wouldn’t let her go, so the other two didn’t want to go without her. Garrett agreed to come help, with the promise of pizza and DQ as the reward...

We started at IBC— International Book Center. There’s a good selection of Khmer fiction here, as well as some good reference books about English grammar, dictionaries, books of Khmer proverbs in Khmer and translated into English, etc.

receipt from IBC

nom

After lunch, we continued on to Monument, another bookstore which also has a great selection of fiction, cookbooks, and history books, but which is a lot more pricey than IBC.

a favorite from Monument

Getting everything back to my site was a bit of a challenge…

When we got back my librarian met us at the school to help us unload everything.

The next day we got to work organizing the books onto shelves, and labeling sections with a color-coded and number organized system (a big thank you to Diana whose system this is!)

It works like this: the color of the sticker indicates the subject/category of the book (i.e. science). The number indicates a subcategory (biology), and a "K" indicates the book is in Khmer.

key

After getting everything organized, I was anxious to open the library up to students so they could see the new books. My librarian replied that we couldn’t open up the library to students yet since all the other books in the library still weren’t organized…

Sigh. Here’s the thing. There have been boxes of books sitting in the library for years, waiting for No (librarian) to organize them. I was struggling not to lose it at this point, but luckily my co-teacher has more grace than I do and suggested we meet to help him organize the books. After some hesitation on his part ("Friday's a holiday, though...") we managed to rope him into meeting on Thursday. And then again on Friday. And now again tomorrow...

organizing the books

We've been unloading box after box of books, stamping them, documenting their quantity and date of donation, and recording all that in a logbook.

some gems

So, there you have it! I have no idea when this project will be completed, but it seems we’re on the right track towards eventually opening it up to students, which is the ultimate goal (for me, at least). I will keep you updated on its developments and noteworthy happenings as they occur. Keep my library project in your thoughts and send positive, productive energy my way!

Hope you all are healthy and doing well.

Change

My parents have a home movie of me from when I was about three, eating a popsicle on the couch in the living room of our old house with the blue shag carpeting. In it, I am seriously *loving* this popsicle- like, nothing can distract my attention away from this thing. My dad is patiently filming me (why is this entertaining??) and at one point asks: “Leah, what color is your popsicle?” I look up at him and without hesitation say, “It’s blue.” Very self-assured, very confident in this assessment. But then I experience a flicker of doubt, and upon looking down at my popsicle discover it to be, in fact, red. I quickly reneg my statement: “It’s wed, it’s wed” I say, nodding my head, utterly sure this time.

I feel like this anecdote is kind of a good analogy for life: we think one thing, we learn something that challenges that belief, and, if we allow ourselves to remain open to new ways of thinking/being, we adapt based on what we learned. Or, to put it in more active terms: we try one thing, it doesn’t work, we try another.

Since being in Cambodia, I’ve had to renegotiate the way I’m going about things on an almost daily basis. Sometimes it’s something as small as what I’m eating or when I’m going about completing certain tasks (washing clothes, writing lesson plans, etc.), and other times it’s something a lot bigger, like how I’m interacting with my students or my co-teacher. In my experience, if you’re paying attention, each day can reveal a lot.

I’ve had moments in teaching I’m not too proud of, in which I’ve made students feel belittled and condescended. I’ve also had moments in which I feel connected to my students on a level I’d never have thought possible a year ago, in which we're both better off for having come to class that day, for having lifted each other up out of whatever funk/bout of listlessness that could have developed otherwise. There have been moments I've let slip by in my distraction, thinking about some problem or anxiety of my own, and others I've embraced whole-heartedly, letting things develop as they may and not forcing my will on them.

In about six months, I will move on from this place I’ve called home for the past 18 months. I thought about this fact the other day on a walk and promptly burst into tears. I have NO IDEA what life is going to hold for me after this. I have some hopes, and rough sketches in mind, but really, no one can say.

The idea I wanted to illustrate in that anecdote above is this: life is always changing, and that's okay. Our ideas of what we think we know are always going to be challenged, so it's best if we just accept this fact and allow ourselves to remain open to new ways of being and doing so we can grow into better humans. In times I remain most open to evolution and change, I’m happiest. In times I remain most stagnant and unyielding, I’m most miserable.

...And the thing about this all is I actually hate change more than anyone I know (fact: I cried when my dad shaved off his mustache). I love consistency, and even though I love getting out of a routine, I also love to have one. I do know, however, that accepting change as inevitable is the only way for me to find contentment. Little Leah showed she was not opposed to reevaluating her ideas of what she thought she knew about her beloved popsicle, and I'd hate to disappoint her.

~~~

And now for some pictures from a few of my recent escapades. Enjoy! :)

My dad's visit

Yes, this is a real burger, with red meat and everything.

My friend Debbie's visit

My morning of fishing with my students

Liya, Ohn's daughter

That’s does it for now. :) Be on the look-out for a post about my ongoing library project in the near future… Hope you all are healthy and happy.

Sandy Hook Shooting

Hey again. So, I wavered on whether or not I wanted to write this post, but ultimately decided I needed to. I know you guys are probably being bombarded with it on the news over there, so I apologize if this is just one more sore reminder of what happened, but for my own sake at attempting to understand how something like this can happen, I needed to write about it.

What happened at Sandy Newton Elementary School is truly awful. There’s no other way to put it. Gun laws in the states are one of the many reasons I so often end up wanting to drift abroad, escaping my own country and all the things about it I disagree with, all the completely mixed up priorities.

When I first heard about this, I was on my way out the door to hang out with a student for the day, so I sort of just tried to shove it to the back of my brain for processing later. Well, this morning when I had two hours before class, it began to sink in. We all know the details so I’m not going to repeat them here, but seriously… Unbelievable. When I went to class, this was all still overwhelming my brain so I was pretty distracted for the first part of the lesson.

In between classes, I explained to my co-teacher what happened and elaborated on how it's even possible for this kind of thing to happen in the states: “In the states, it’s not too difficult to get a gun. Many people want to have a gun to protect themselves from crazy people. But then there are crazy people who end up with guns and this kind of thing happens.” My co-teacher considered this a minute and then said, “But if no one had guns, no one would need protection.” I sent this to Garrett in a text. I couldn’t have said it better myself.

I don’t know about you all, but when this kind of thing happens, it’s really hard for me not to just feel hopeless about everything. Like nothing I do will ever possibly make a difference and there’s no use in thinking that the world can be good, that people can be good. I feel this urge to creep into a hole and never talk to anyone, never open myself up again to anyone for fear of getting hurt, emotionally or physically. I know that this is wrong, but it’s the impulse I have.

The fact of the matter though, is that the world is always going to be an incredibly cruel, heartless, terrible place where awful things like this are allowed to happen. It’s also a beautiful, creative, wonderful place though, and each and every day we decide how we are going to contribute to it.

I can’t stop things like this from happening. Neither can you. But we can do our small acts of kindness with open hearts every day and know that that is making a difference. For someone. And for us.  I can make my classroom environment a safe place, intellectually. I can receive my students’ ideas and opinions with an open heart and mind, and let them feel acknowledged and appreciated. I can reach out to someone to create understanding through dialogue. These things are all within my power. Some crazy guy who should never have had access to a gun is not.

Anyway, I apologize if this post has been ranty and/or dwelled on something you’ve been overwhelmed with in the news anyway, but I really felt I needed to write something. You are all important to me (even if you don’t know it and even if I don’t know you), and I truly think we can all contribute to making this world a better place, and should, even when it may sometimes seem like a futile effort. Alright, I’m gonna get all cheesy here and post a quote I know we have all seen a hundred million times BUT IT’S TRUE so here it is: 

“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.” – Margaret Mead.

I love you all and hope you and yours are safe and happy.

December Update

Hello everyone! Happy day after my grandpa’s birthday, and two days after my birthday! This message comes to you from my room, where I am cosily sitting under my Peace Corps-issued red blanket at 8 in the morning on a Thursday, with my fan on “1.” (the lowest setting!!!) Ahhhhh yes: December in Cambodia. Birds are chirping, the sun is not a devilish foe but a warm and playful friend, teaching at school is not an inferno to be dreaded, and time spent in my room does not quietly bake me but leaves me feeling comfy and refreshed. Savor it, folks because this is the last time you’ll hear me talk about Cambodian weather this favorably until I’m back in America and my memory has gone fuzzy.

There is not too much to update on from my end but I’ll give you the highlight reel of my most recent escapades and try to make it snappy so I don’t lose you to more important things like foodgawker and etsy.

As I mentioned above, two days ago was my birthday. You may remember that last year my friend Ohn threw me a little party complete with a birthday muffin with whippy frosting. This year she asked me if I wanted her to do it again, but not being sure if she *really* wanted to do it or if she was just being polite, I insisted she not. Ohn’s and my conversation went something like this:

Ohn: Do you want me to buy a cake for you in Phnom Penh?

Me: No! No no no… Don’t worry about it! You don’t have to do that.

Ohn: But do you want me to buy a cake? Come on. I’ll buy a cake if you want me to.

Me: No really! It’s okay! Don’t worry about it! But if you want to, you can.

Ohn: Do you want me to? I will if you want me to.

Me: No, it’s fine! Don’t buy the cake. Don’t do it.

And so it went. In the end the party didn’t end up happening, which was probably for the best since Garrett was here and these things always end up being terribly awkward, if endearing and sweet. Instead, I had a quiet birthday at home with Garrett, my mom, Ghirardelli brownies with rainbow sprinkles (brownie points to Garrett for that one), and a dinner of mac n cheese with veggies and bread to sop up all the thousands of calories of cheese. It was perfect. At school my co-teacher remembered my birthday and gave me a card ("Happy to you! Lucky to you!") and a present, and in the afternoon a gang of my students stopped by my house to give me presents and wish me a happy birthday. They gave me a series of sparkly hair clips and earrings, which they cheered when I tried on, a necklace, a couple of phone charms, and a sherbet-colored quick dry towel haha.  All in all it was a great birthday and I felt a lot of love from the people here who matter most to me.

And now, since I think we all can agree that pictures are worth 10,000 imperfect words, I will continue this chronicle in photo form.

This is Banya, my seven-month old nephew. He is perhaps the only Khmer baby who does not break into tears at the site of me but instead makes me go all gooey inside cause he spoils me with this adorable grin every time I poke my head downstairs to say “hi.”

Deciding on my wish to the birthday brownie gods.

I ate a tarantula with my friend Diana…

… on the way to run a half marathon at Angkor Wat in Siem Riep! I won, obviously.

I cleaned my fan for the first time in 15 months and discovered it’s white under there! Who knew!

And that about does it for me! I hope you all are well and that you have a very happy holiday season with your loved ones, eat until you have a distended belly, drink some eggnog, and pass out to the sounds of Randy snorting into his plate of mashed potatoes in A Christmas Story playing (this year and every year until the end of time) on TNT. I send you lots of love from Cambodia.

Love and Kindness

Ok, you guys. In a state of emotional anguish while in college, I consulted a friend on how she continually projected love and kindness outwards towards those she encountered. This friend replied (in a radiant state of beatitude that could have irritated even the most devout believers in this truth) that love and kindness came naturally to her. She held goodwill towards others and was unfailingly compassionate, simply because there was no other way for her to be. Of course, for this particular person, whom the majority of my friends and I worshipped as a minor goddess, this claim just so happened to be exasperatingly true. At this point in our conversation, of course, for no other purpose that I could see than to rub my nose in her enlightenment, this friend dreamily floated into the kitchen to make me a cup of herbal tea and bring me an organic, homemade baked good.

For me, loving and being kind has never come quite this easily. Not to say that it isn’t my intuition and general intention, simply that there are often more complex emotions which get in the way before love and kindness have a chance to manifest. Just to name a few: suspicion, pride, jealousy, obsession, and the real kicker: judgment. Not my proudest qualities, but there you have them. When left to its own devices, my mind will opt for one of these eight times out of ten, with love and kindness waiting patiently and regrettably on the backburner.

This is why, for me, experiencing true emotions of love and kindness takes work. I have to make a conscientious effort to remember that people are generally good and worthy of my trust, and not so separate from me as my mind tends to suspect. At times I’m very good at practicing love and kindness—both towards myself and others— and then of course at other times my priorities get jumbled and I’m forced to face the harsh reality from some illuminating encounter or conversation.

For me to get over these ruts, it helps to remind myself that everyone, everyone, is working through their own issues and problems. No one’s suffering is any better or worse than anyone else’s. Actually, what’s helped me a lot recently has been sitting. That’s right: sitting. Here’s what I do (it’s really complicated so you might want to take notes): I sit at my kitchen table facing the street, at any and all hours of the day, and watch what’s going on around me. I watch the traffic pass: women on motos going to the market to buy food for the day; kids on their bikes going to and from school, tired or bored or bobbing their heads singing their favorite Khmer pop song to entertain themselves on the ride; a leathery-skinned Khmer man with a kroma, or scarf, wrapped around his waist, smoking and leading his oxen to water during the hottest part of the day; a chicken at my feet pecking at leftover fruit peels, eyeing me warily until my host dad issues a resounding “SHOO!” from inside the house that sends him clucking, scattering feathers as he goes.

I see how everyone around me is going about their business, always with lively eyes and a ready smile, working with the unfolding of the day, even in a place that can be as harsh and unforgiving as Cambodia with its relentless heat and demanding realities: taking the kids to school, going to the market for the day’s shopping, washing the families clothes by hand, cleaning the house, watching the colicky baby, making lunch, drying rice, preparing fish, chopping wood, sifting rice, making dinner… Only to release a small wary yawn before going to bed and doing it all over again the next day. Needless to say, contemplating the reality of what this must be like puts my problems into a much clearer perspective. It’s a quiet reminder that though we are all suffering in our own very personal, equally aching ways, we each have the capacity to bring each other out of it with the love and kindness we choose to share with each other on a daily basis. Nothing is so powerful a motivator for a personal commitment to being loving and kind as that.

Pchum Ben, King Sihanouk's death, and the start of school

Hey guys,

So it’s been a while, huh? Last you heard I was gallivanting around Vietnam, eating yummy new foods and riding around on the back of a moto with a hot dude… What?

Well, now I am back in Cambodia and reality has set in. Not to say that reality is a bad thing, but it's always a little hard to get back in the swing of things after a relaxing vacation... Also, WE JUST STARTED SCHOOL. That's right, school has just begun in Cambodia. Last year my school started late because of flooding in our village. This year it was because there was a holiday to honor the ancestors: Pchum Ben. During Pchum Ben Khmer families visit the wat to offer up food to the monks who "soh toa," or chant to relieve the ancestors of their suffering. Then everyone goes home to eat a big meal together and, for some, drink into the evening.

With my family at the wat

Since the holiday's date changes with the Lunar calendar, it fell in the middle of October this year instead of the end of September, so most schools just waited to start school until after the holiday. We’ve only been in school a week and already we have two days off this upcoming week: Monday for Prince Sihamoni’s birthday (not a national holiday but why not?) and Wednesday for King Sihanouk’s birthday. If you haven't heard, Sihanouk, who was revered amongst Khmer people as a kind of father figure to Cambodia, died early last week of a heart attack. He was 88.  Many Khmer people are convinced they saw his face in the moon the day after he died. A bit of a stretch, yes, but hey: as of yet no one's put a Sihanouk grilled cheese up for auction on Ebay so...

On a different note, the library project is still comin’ along, but sloooowly. At this point I am waiting to start on a new aspect of the project (STAY TUNED TO FIND OUT WHAT) which is dependent on when my librarian has “free time”— a very liberally used time slot which can last anywhere from an hour to an entire day, depending on the person asking and the impending tasks. Being “busy” in Cambodia can mean actually being preoccupied (teaching, washing your clothes, working at the market, etc.), or it can mean laying in your hammock all day and not wanting to be bothered. Here is an exemplary dialogue between my co-teacher and me upon my request for a Khmer lesson.

Me: Hello, Nam Heng! Do you have free time this afternoon to teach me Khmer?

Nam Heng: No, no. Very busy! Busy busy! For me, very busy!

Me: Oh, okay. (Pauses. Hears TV in the background) What are you doing?

Nam Heng: So busy! I have to go now bye bye. (click)

And there you have it.

Anyway, that’s about the news from here, folks! I hope you are doing well, but if not, it's okay because even Darwin had his bad days:

http://www.npr.org/blogs/krulwich/2012/10/18/163181524/charles-darwin-and-the-terrible-horrible-no-good-very-bad-day

Love to you all.

Vietnam Vacation, Pt. II: Hoi An, Danang (airport), HCMC, and back to the homeland...

After spending a day and a half in Nha Trang, lounging on the beach, cruising around on a moto (let the record show we wore helmets and were in a “non- Peace Corps country” so this was legal!), and stopping where our hearts desired, it was time to move on to our next stop: Hoi An. We left Nha Trang at midnight on a night train, which ended up being a pretty great way to travel since a) we saved money on a hotel for the night and, b) our beds on the train were not half bad (they had comforters!). When we woke up, we were only an hour or so from Hoi An so we munched on a breakfast of black sesame cakes while craning our necks to watch the passing scenery through the window.

Hoi An is a city of about 122,000 people, set on the southern boarder of the central highlands. It is a culturally thriving place with local crafts as a main staple-- silk lantern making, wood carving, and pottery are still actively produced in the area. In 1999 it was named a Unesco World Heritage site. The streets are small and free of cars, and much of the “Old Town” has been preserved through current family members who continue to open their homes to visitors for a small fee.

While there, Garrett and I bought an “Old Town” pass, which allows you to see five “cultural sites” for 90,000 dong, the proceeds of which go to maintaining the sites. It was worth it to see the above-pictured Chinese assembly hall,  Phúc Kiến (founded in 1757) and one of the preserved old houses, Tán Ký which dates from the early 19th Century. Also worth it so that this ridiculously awkward picture of me in front of the assembly hall could come into existence.

We also got to see the Great Wall with our ticket!

Afterwards, we stopped for some cao lau from a street vendor: a Hoi Anese specialty of thick doughy noodles with marinated shrimp, bean sprouts and greens, topped with pork slices and served with a crispy rice cake.

In the evening, the Japanese bridge swells with tourists and vendors who set up stalls with different kinds of food and paper lanterns, which tourists can buy and send off in the river as an offering or a prayer.

For 50,000 dong (about $2.50) we had a nice view of the sun setting from a paddle boat on the river.

For a minute I was scared we’d be eaten by sharks

But then I remembered that was silly and anyway, impossible

Dinner! It’s hard to see here but those hoanh thanh (won ton) are each about the size of my face.We dubbed them "Vietnamese nachos" = greasy, fried chips with a topping of tomato, onion, chives, pineapple, and ground beef… And washed down with glasses of “fresh beer” for 3000 dong each ($0.10).

Our second day in Hoi An began with a bike ride across the Thu Bon River to Cam Nam Island, easily accessible from Hoi An's second bridge, which is much more imposing in size than the quaint Japanese covered bridge you've seen in previous pictures. I’d read in our guidebook about a bookstore on the island owned by an ex-pat, which was worth the trip not for its impressive collection, but for how awesomely bad its offerings proved to be.

This was among our favorites, since barang (that's with a “b”) is a widely-known term in Cambodia used in reference to foreigners.

And how could this not be a favorite?

Or this? Insta-classic is what I say.

After riding back to Hoi An we went to a restaurant called “Green Moss” for lunch, where you could take a cooking class to learn how your meal was prepared for just $2 more than your order.

 We opted for the pumpkin soup and cau lau with tofu

NOM! Those browned won ton chips on top were amazing

The lady who showed us how to make our meal took a liking to us so we got to come back in the evening to see how our dinner was prepared for free :)

Shrimp wantons: a less greasy and more refined version of the “Vietnamese nachos” we’d had the previous night. These were undeniably better.

Despite how much this looks like a fish, it’s actually grilled eggplant in a brown sauce, with chili peppers, spring onions, lemongrass, and peanuts.

The moon festival occurred while we were in Vietnam (it happens on the first and 15^th day of every month of the lunar calendar) so “moon cakes” were readily available. These cakes have a spongy, angel-food-like exterior and can have various kinds of fillings like ground mung bean, coconut, red bean paste, and taro. Garrett bought one with a particularly interesting ingredient list to bring back to his host family in Phnom Penh, who is half Chinese. ‘Salanganes nest’ –the first ingredient on the list—is used in birds-nest soup as well as in traditional medicine, and is thought to be an aphrodisiac. It comes from the “swiftlet” bird, and currently amasses more than $2000 per kilo in the international marketplace.

We spent two days in Hoi An, strolling narrow streets to stop in handicraft shops, getting new clothes made (I have shorts that actually fit me now!), and even running into a fellow PCV on the street (Spoiler!) Our friend Trophy happened to be traveling around Vietnam at the same time we were, and I spotted her as we were walking to dinner one night. It provided a reminder of how small this East Asian community really is.

After all of our adventures, it was time for us to make our way back to HCMC for our last day in Vietnam before heading back to that ever lovable and exasperating place we call home. We woke early to drive up to the nearby city of Danang where the airport is to catch our 8:00AM flight back to HCMC.

For our last day we ambled aimlessly, seeing what we saw as we went and just enjoying the day.

I can be really awkward. Did you know that?

 I call this one, Snowperson Encased in Post-Modern Bird.

For our final evening, we had big plans to go to a traditional water puppet show and then out for a nice meal in our new clothes from Hoi An. The show was, as predicted, a little hokey, but worth it nonetheless for the accompanying traditional music. You can see video of it below.

Let it be known that *Garrett* was taking the video and **not me,** so you can blame him for the slightly shaky screen and random guy’s tuft of hair that sometimes obscures the view.

As we exited the theater we were greeted by a torrent of rain. We thought we’d be fine in our plastic ponchos, so we braved the storm and headed into the deluge to scope out a dinner location. Within minutes my shoes were completely soaked, my big toe poking through the sole (I'd purposely worn old shoes out since it was raining), and the hem of my new midnight blue silk dress was drenched. Oh and Garrett’s pants were wet too. So we weighed whether or not we would actually enjoy a shmancy, probably out-of-our budget meal in wet clothes as our last memory of HCMC, or if we would rather do something a little cozier which wouldn't require us to further delve into the rain...

As you can see, we chose option number two. It was the perfect end to a lovely vacation, and nothing could have made me happier than eating Pizza Hut delivery with a diet coke in the comfort of my hotel room as the rain beat down outside.

Thanks for tuning in to my travelogue and I look forward to keeping you updated on other adventures and projects in future posts!