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!

Vietnam Vacation, Pt. l: Ho Chi Minh City, Mui Ne, and Nha Trang

The summer in Cambodia is LONG, folks. For the first part of it, I was busy with my library project: completing the world map (which took about three weeks), and then working on the inside of the building with my three student helpers. We've managed to get a lot done in the month or so devoted to it: we've cleared the space of clutter, “thrown out” (or rather, shoved into a separate room so I can pretend they don't exist) old books, maps, an alarming number of dusty portraits of the king and company, a collection of musty sombreros (I have no idea for what purpose these were being stored in the library… unless there was some sort of Spanish club or weekly fiesta night of which I'd unfortunately been left unaware), and much more.

We painted the walls, windows, and bookshelves, and began painting the benches. After much hard work and being told repeatedly by tongue-clicking mings (aunts) at the market that I was “more beautiful before [this project started],” I knew a vacation was in order. My boyfriend Garrett, fellow PCV and human extraordinaire, and I made plans to go to Vietnam.

To begin our journey, Garrett and I met in Phnom Penh to travel to Takeo to see the K6s (new group of volunteers) swearing-in ceremony, which marked the end of their training and the beginning of their lives as Peace Corps volunteers. It was pretty cool to see things “as they were” (when I was still in training) but also "as they are now" as I rode my bike into my training village with a widened perspective to visit my previous family, whom I hadn’t seen in over a year! It was pretty fantastic to see my bong s’rey (big sister) again after so long and to chat with her so much easier than I could during training when my Khmer was still just a tiny bird in the process of hatching from its egg (can that be a real metaphor? I believe I just made it so).

After the ceremony, Garrett and I traveled back to Phnom Penh to catch a bus to Ho Chi Minh City (HCMC), also known as Saigon. The bus ride was only six hours! That’s a shorter amount of time than it takes to get to Siem Riep. Anyway, since I think journeys of this magnitude are better expressed visually, I’ll jump right in with maps and pictures to narrate through those.

The total distance we traveled by plane, train, and automobile was 20+ hours. As you can see, Vietnam is a REALLY LONG country! It’s about 40 hours by bus/train from top to bottom. Because of its length, the scenery is constantly changing from place to place, which made bus and train rides particularly engaging.

So we begin in HCMC with what else? Food. Since I’d heard that Vietnamese food is “like Khmer food but way better” I was excited to try it! Here we have a sticky rice cake with banana, cut up into pieces with scissors in front of you and topped with tapioca and sesame seeds before serving. SO GOOD.

NOM.

While in HCMC, we went to the Cu Chi Tunnels- the infamous tunnels with which the Viet Cong won the war through surprise attacks on American soldiers and navigation by military personnel and transport of goods. A typical entrance to the tunnels looks like this: a definite challenge to squeeze through for your average well-fed American.

Booby traps were used to capture American soldiers in a pretty gruesome manner: spearing them with metal rods as they fell into a foliage-covered pit, or puncturing legs and other extremities with rotor-till like metal spokes, thus preventing any possibility of escape.

Our guide prefaced this display by saying, “The Viet Cong didn’t actually wear uniforms.” I’m not sure who decided it’d be an authentic representation to have these soldiers displayed around a fire, cozily writing letters home and sipping out of flasks when that was not the reality at all. The Viet Cong often spent weeks and even months in the tunnels, which were cramped and airless, as I can attest from having crawled through one myself, hunched over and trying not to head-butt the person in front of me’s rear-end.

Here we have a preserved tank, which tourists are encouraged to climb up onto and explore… Immediately after this display, our group was led to a firing range where visitors can gear up and shoot AK47s, pistols, or rocket launchers to their hearts’ content… This seemed a morally regrettable juxtaposition to me, and just a tad reprehensible at a site on which decades of suffering and fear plagued the people who were now encouraging visitors to release still more artillery fire into the mountainside. This, in addition to the “pleasure house swimming pool” made me a little weary of this historical site and left me with mixed feelings with regards to its effect.

This same day, we visited the War Remnants Museum which proved, as expected, an extremely powerful and poignant historical site. While the images I saw wandering through the museum are not soon to leave my head, I appreciated seeing what the American War (as it is referred in Vietnam) did to the Vietnamese people: how much destruction it caused and how little has been done in years following to account for it. It’s sad and disappointing on the part of Americans, but also inspiring to see the scale of Vietnam's recovery from rubble in just a few short decades and to see how forgiving its people seem to be.

Onward from HCMC! Next on our itinerary was Mui Ne, a small beach town on the southeastern coast, just five hours away by bus 

Mui Ne is renowned for its red sand dunes, which extend from the landscape opposite the coast. We barely ventured into the dunes but they were breathtaking nonetheless. Sunset is definitely the time to go since the evolving colors of the sky are reflected by similar hues in sand and water.

Possibly my favorite picture from the trip

  Or maybe this one

No, no- it’s gotta be this one

See? We can be normal sometimes

Said to Garrett later of this picture: “I don’t know why I’ve got my leg popped like that. It’s just something I’ve seen people do.”

We had some amazing seafood while we were there!

From Mui Ne we continued up the southern coast to Nha Trang (pronounced “Nyah Chahng) by bus- another five-hour drive.

The coast of Nha Trang is more varied than that of Mui Ne since there are mountains in the background, however there are also more tourists so Mui Ne still holds a more favored spot in my heart.

I was so glad the hotel thought to remind me not to stick my electric plugs into glasses of water. I’m always forgetting that!

PHỚ ! This is a breakfast staple in Vietnam, and for good reason: thick strands of white noodles bathe in a savory broth that’s topped with thin slices of beef and garnished with your choice of blanched and steaming bean sprouts, mint leaves, lettuce, garlic, chili sauce, and several other unidentifiable but lip-smacking sauces. Anthony Bourdain provides a pretty good description of phở' here (bottom of 80-82). Be warned: it’s blush-worthy.

More seafood! Prawns and lobster on the beach

This lucky pup and his friend got our leftovers...

How could they not? :)

Vietnamese night markets are good for diversion since there are always great finds to stumble upon, like this E.T. turtle.

Beyond the curious consumer goods there are plenty of typos to revere

As well as yummy, cheap food to try at different small eateries set up on the sides of the market. This was a favorite of mine: garlicky scallops with chives and peanuts.

And another favorite: beans in dessert! (my favorite food group. FYI). This yumminess is called xôi chè and is a typical Vietnamese dessert comprising various warm puddings with jellied lotus nuts, mung and broad beans, and mixed with coconut shreds, finally topped with a smattering of tapioca, sweet and condensed milk, and ice shavings. It was delicious and for 10,000 dong ($0.49), couldn’t be beat.

This has already been a very long entry so I’ll stop myself here and continue my story in another post, where our two wily protagonists continue their journey with an overnight train ride to a distant land on the southern-most edge of Vietnam's central highlands to a place called Hoi An. A chance encounter with another Peace Corps Volunteer? A thrilling novel called Badger, Beano and the Magic Mushroom? Public urination and a ten-day imprisonment in a Vietnamese incarceration center? Read on to find out which of these tales proves true...