ChOOm-rehap-sueh

That means hello in Cambodian – or I should say Khmai. Here are a few highlights in my life since the last time I was at the hub site:

Monday-Friday we worked in groups of three to practice teaching a 10th grade Cambodian class. We split the lesson into three 45 minute sections (vocab, grammar, and conversation) and rotated our topics each day so we would all have a chance to teach each category. For example, I taught …

Monday: Grammar – Simple past tense
Tuesday: Conversation – Developing opinions and comparing town and country
Wednesday: Vocab – Infrastructure/around town
Thursday: Grammar – Directional prepositions
Friday: Non formal teaching – “How to make an origami balloon”

I was surprised at the students’ levels of English. I have to commend them for their own progress – especially since they receive little, if any, homework and have so few resources. They really take pride in learning for the sake of learning. My biggest challenge won’t be the students; it will be helping them overcome everything holding them back. The students themselves are wonderful. My host sister’s best friend comes over to our house a lot to hang out with my host sister and me. Her family has a male volunteer and I don’t think he was nearly as interested in getting his fingernails painted with bright silver sparkles as I was. Instant hit with the 16 year olds, what can I say?

For those of you wondering, Stuart my mouse, is still alive, scurrying and eating my soap. He’s becoming more brave, but we have an agreement that as long as he doesn’t try to get into my bed, he can run around and I won’t freak out … much. Last night he almost crossed the line while running above my bed and pooping on my mattress pad. Not cool. One of the other volunteers had a kamikaze mouse that would jump from her ceiling into various places around her room, get stuck and squeak until he got out. Kristine’s family has since killed her “roommate” after one particularly acrobatic evening (she said the following quote could be heard through the walls of her room after she screamed in the middle of the night: “gundow, no prob-lem, Kristine”). When I suggested to my host family that I didn’t like mice either in hopes of a similar solution, they just laughed, so I’ve decided to befriend mine.

Speaking of animals, it’s a full moon right now and the dogs are nuts. I never believed the moon made animals crazy, but after this I’m a believer. The howling is ear splitting and a little bit scary sometimes when the wild dogs come out. Last night the moon was so full I could see them on the road in a dogfight with host family’s pets and it looked like something out of a horror movie. I miss Xena. Moving along.

On the plus side, the full moon is also a minor Chinese celebration commemorating ancestors who have passed away. My host family had so much delicious food on Saturday I thought I might explode. They invited my teachers over to the house for dinner and we all ate together. Fried coconut rice cakes, noodles, tom-yum soup, angle-food cake, all my favorite fruit, beef and veggies, roasted chicken, wine, beer, soy milk, coconut milk, fruit juice, vegetable soup with chicken. It was absolutely wonderful.

The only thing that could possibly be better than all that was “girls’-night-in” dinner last night. All of the girls in my village got together to make mashed potatoes, pepper steak, green beans and garlic toast. Cookies and pineapple for dessert – no rice on the menu. We all felt very American and very full by the end of the night. We decided that next Sunday we would cook breakfast together and watch Breakfast at Tiffany’s.

What I love most about Cambodia is the simple pleasures like cooking mashed potatoes, watching The Little Mermaid with my host siblings, finishing a whole book, beginning to whittle a chess set (don’t ask), weekly phone chats with my family, and drinking instant coffee in the afternoon at Rebecca’s house and liking it. This week we’re at the hub site again on Monday and Tuesday. We just learned that in two weeks we’re splitting into little groups to go on a mini-vacation! Each group pulled a location out of a hat. Deidre, Katie, and I are going to Battambang. We totally lucked out. This is the second largest city in Cambodia (holla!!!) and is known to have a lot of Francophones. It’s supposed to be scenic, with a temple nearby that is similar to Ankor Wat. Complete with a mote and caves!! This is our first test in getting around Cambodia without supervision and a little freedom to cut loose…. The only thing that comes to mind is: I. Can. Not. Wait!!!!!!! Details to come when I return and have internet access again! Which, by the way, may be a while since the next two weeks don’t seem to have any time scheduled in Kampong Chanang. Hopefully I can catch a few minutes in an internet café along the way to and/or from my little road-trip.

I’m also sorry for the lack of photographs. I know a lot of people have been asking to see what I’ve been up to, but I probably won’t get a chance to upload any photos until I get to my permanent site. I just don’t have the patience to do it here. Don’t worry, I’m taking lots of pictures though! As always, I miss you all and look forward to seeing you all in my mailbox. Much love!

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Khmerican vs. Franglais

One of the most frequent questions I have received is how this experience compares to studying in France. If I were in Paris right now, I would be sitting in my jungle-themed room instead of in the jungle. I can remember how that roomed smelled so well, and the red velvet curtains by my front door. Sneaking in late at night with Meg and Kathy long after the metros had closed or re-opened. Sharing seats on Ligne 8 with people hung-over on life as I went to class. Ham + cheese + potatoes. Rue Vavin, Refuges des fondues, 67, mon poussin, “excursions” with M. Lecomte, the pâtisserie by Ried Hall. Looking back over that experience, it is difficult to remember how hard adjusting was at first amidst all my favorite memories, but I know that if I hadn’t had it, this one would be much harder.

The most obvious difference for me is the language. I am learning Khami quickly, but I am still no where near fluent and I can only construct simple conversations. Oddly enough, when I am searching for a word in Khami, I usually have the compulsion to break into French. The syntax here is far more simple than English or French, but difficult to pronounce and harsh to my ears in comparison. When I first arrived in France, I remember thinking part of my personality was lost in translation and that I was a slightly different person when I spoke French than when I spoke English. As I became more fluent, I learned words that named emotions I was feelings, but could not equate to any words in English. After all that time, I forgot what it feels like to be trapped inside your own ability – or lack thereof – to speak. In Khmai, I am a child, an illiterate and probably lacking any form of humor other than the self-inflicted slapstick I rely on to convey some sense of warmth to my family. Every day I find new ways to express myself and who I want my host family to know me as, but it certainly is a challenge.

In France, my host family treated me like a boarder. This bothered me because I wanted to be welcomed into their home, learn from them and lean on them. Here in Cambodian, I am part of the family. This experience is wonderful, but it also makes me appreciate the independence and autonomy I had in Paris. Privacy in Cambodia is as foreign as I am. The terror left over from Pol Pot’s regime has made families fearful and protective of each other, especially in rural areas like Tuk Phos. I love coming home to the exuberance of my youngest host sister, Key-Chain, lively dinner discussions and family t.v. nights (although I could pass on the Thai DVDs dubbed in Khami) … but I miss being able to come and go as I please, slipping into a crowd unnoticed, staying out until 2 in the morning no questions asked, and the feeling of being responsible for myself.
Of course, I can’t really compare the City of Lights with Tuk Phos. French and Cambodian social cultures, infrastructure and entertainment are completely different. Where I might have felt lost in the crows of Paris, I can not begin to escape the tight-knight community here. In some ways, it’s easier to be here because the culture is so completely foreign from my own that I don’t have the chance to compare it and miss what is familiar to me. In the end, I do miss the hustle and bustle of Paris, the beautiful buildings, western clothing, 24-hour electricity and outrageously over-priced, delicious restaurants, but I’ve gained a simplicity of life and a tactile satisfaction of doing daily tasks by hand. There are things about both places I can’t get enough of (right now: fried bananas and sunrises over the rice fields), and things about both that I could do without. I guess that’s why they say there’s no place like home. Paris changed me and I would easily redo that year again in a heartbeat. Cambodia will change me, and although I don’t know how yet, I know someday I’ll look back and remember those sunrises the way I remember the streets of Paris on a rainy day and thank God that country road didn’t take me home just yet.

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Roughing it

I haven’t logged onto the internet in years. Okay, it’s actually only been about 15 days, but I decided to enjoy my first few weeks in Cambodia without trying to squeeze in a few slow minutes on the web while fighting with a decaying PC as other volunteers waited to do the same. My brilliant – or maybe not so brilliant – plan was to wait until we moved to our training sites, where I would only be sharing computer time with 10 other people. Naturally, I was placed in the most rural of the three villages which doesn’t have internet. Or a post office.

I would describe my training village, Tuk Phos, as “rustic.” I’m living with a charming woman, her husband and my three host siblings. Our primary form of communication is charades and bit of broken Khmai and English. I think they told me my host father is a pig farmer, but it’s hard to tell. Although their voices get louder as they repeat phrases I don’t understand again and again, my ability to comprehend still remains at the level of a two year old. Funny how that works. I’ve noticed my host mother stays at home to cook, clean and participate in the daily gossip-fest with the neighbors.

I love when the neighbors come over. They usually want to gawk at me and giggle at all the ridiculous things I do. As my dad noticed the last time we spoke on the phone, the term “novelty princess” now has a new meaning since I am the novelty. Cambodian people think almost everything we brang (foreigners) do is hilarious. As we ride our bikes down the street we often hear people calling out, “hullo, hullo, where you go? Brang, brang, what is your name?” followed by hysterical laughter as we swerve around the oncoming motos, barely miss the cow, chicken, goat, small child, or fill in the blank, idling on the street.

Despite the lack of internet, Tuk Phos is absolutely beautiful. The window in my room overlooks expanses of rice fields as far as the eye can see. The chartreuse green of new rice creates a stark contrast against the deep black-blue haze of distant mountains. The rhythm of life in Tuk Phos is slow, but vibrant. I wake up at 5:30 every morning, sweep my room, take a quick bucket shower, dress and battle with my hair until I am somewhat presentable and then bike into town to have breakfast with the other trainee’s in my village. We have language training at KimKong’s (affectionately King Kong’s) house for four hours and then we take a brief hiatus for lunch and a mid-afternoon nap.

The afternoons are usually as busy as the mornings and suddenly, its dinner time with the family. After dinner, I chat with my sister and swing in our hammock. My sister, Kim-Ayne, is 17 so we spend a lot of time together. I also have two younger siblings who like to bring me crabs, grasshoppers and other terrifying things that will make me literally jump into Kim-Anye’s arms. Tonight’s bug of choice: June beatles. And yes, I wasn’t kidding about jumping into my host sister’s arms. Two nights ago a grasshopper the size of my foot (translation: 4 inches post-trauma) landed on my neck. Enough said.

Every evening I teach my host sister and nephew a little bit of English before bed. Speaking of which, I’m fairly certain my host family wants me to marry my nephew. He had dinner with us one of the first nights I arrived. As we were eating, I could hear my family talking about me. Anglais and America are pretty hard words to miss, even if you don’t understand Khmai. All of sudden my host sister looks at me, points to my nephew and says, “Money in the bank! Money in the bank!” This, of course was followed by more hysterical laugher, pointing and the words “anglais … blah blah blah … sexy!” Dare I even fathom what that conversation was about? Have no fear, mom and dad, I have z-e-r-o desire to join my host family on a more … permanent … basis.
Bedtime is usually around 8:30, when I retire to my room to do a little reading before I pass out. The bugs come out around 8:00, and by 9:00, the barking—yes I said barking—geckos are in full swing! I have thankfully not had any contact with the enormous spiders that live in the area, although I did have a brief encounter with a mouse that set up shop in my room. It is not a good idea to leave fruit of any kind on my desk in the middle of the night because the mouse will steal it. Actually, it’s not a good idea to leave fruit on my desk in the afternoon either because the little s.o.b. isn’t scared of me at all. He also likes my soap, but I haven’t figured out a solution to that problem yet.
A typical night in Tuk Phos is a little less refreshaning than the days. I can usually drown out the sound of my host family’s t.v. through the paper thin walls with my iPod, but it’s pretty hard to miss our lovable howling dogs (LooLoo, Coca and Kiki) who lead a nightly neighborhood chorus anywhere from 12:00 – 3:00 a.m. Of course, there are also the confused roosters who feel the need to begin announcing the coming dawn at 3:02 and 22 seconds in case I had managed to miss the dogs. At least I don’t live near the temple because some of my friends have also noticed that the monks begin chanting at 4:00 a.m. No thank you.
Oh you know, just a typical day in the tropics, right? I’m not saying it isn’t hard sometimes or that I’m not already starting to crave cheese and red wine (although one of my favorite restaurants in Kampong Chnang does serve real French toast!) … but this is some adventure!!

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The end of the beginning

The 36 of us were first thrown together in the chic Kabuki hotel in San Francisco for a day of paperwork, overwhelming amounts of information and a few uncomfortable ice breakers. After a whirlwind orientation to the Peace Corps, I spent my last night eating hot dogs with sauerkraut and a chocolate malt before waiting an hour and a half in line to sit front-and-center at the 9:45 showing of The Dark Knight. Well worth the wait, I might add – and a great way to spend my last night in America.

30 some hours of travel later (at least half of which I missed in a Tylenol-induced coma), we were stepping off the plane in Cambodia. As I walked through passport control I saw a row of smiling faces holding Peace Corps signs, who I later learned were other Peace Corps volunteers and some of our staff, cheering as each of us passed by. Although I didn’t know any of these people, I felt like I was coming home.

Within a matter of moments, I was cruising through the streets of Phnom Penh in a crowded Land Rover, covered in a perma-sweat and completely overwhelmed by sights and sounds. Driving through Phnom Penh is incredible. In a radius of 10 yards you can see the breathtakingly beautiful architecture left over from the Angkor period and French colonization, brilliantly colored flowers and fruits, grinning faces of curious Cambodians and such extreme poverty you can’t possibly imagine how all this vibrant life flourishes in such close proximity.

That day we had a brief seminar, ate our first of many delicious meals—which have subsequently become one of the highlights of my days—and managed to dodge jetlag during a crash-course in PC-Cambodia lifestyle. We visited the National Museum in the afternoon, where the smell of fresh jasmine seemed to literally hang in the air next to the ancient Hindi statues and artifacts. On our way to dinner we all shared our first Tiger beer at a small rooftop bar overlooking the MeKong river. (Important side note: I also saw my first elephant on the street!! See if you can spot which one doesn’t look like the other ones). That evening we took a lazy dinner cruise with the staff to get to know everyone and enjoy a night of new friends, a beautiful sunset and dancing to horribly awesome karaoke.

On our second day we finally moved to the province Kampong Chnang where our hub site was located. Because the Cambodian presidential elections were slated to take place that week, we spent an extra week there as a whole group learning how to use the squat pot, what to do when we get Dengue fever and how to introduce ourselves to our host families before heading to our smaller training villages.

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