February 27, 2009

Beach Corps



This past weekend reminded me why I traded in my Prada bags for a backpack. After IST, Deidre and I hightailed it down to Kep beach where we would be meeting Dan and his friend Nina for a few days of beach bumming. Think fresh seafood, empty beaches, straw bungalows, and miles and miles of clear blue water. Now that’s what I had in mind when I joined Peace Corps.

Kep is off the beaten path of the usual tourist circuit, so we essentially had the coastline to ourselves for three whole days and nights. We spent our lazy days staring out at the calm waves, reading, and chatting. There was a cool breeze rolling off the water that made the sun feel deceptively mild. The ocean itself was so warm I felt like I was swimming in a giant bathtub.

Odd as this may seem, this was actually the first time I’ve been to the ocean since I left the States. Living in the North-Western part of Cambodia has its perks, but a nine hour bus ride to the beach is not one of them. As Deidre and I rode into town, we both began clapping and giggling. You can imagine what a scene this was on a bus full of Cambodians and the few scant tourists passing through (I probably should have mentioned Deidre also had her scarf wrapped around her head for “lice protection” due to the questionable nature of our bus).

The smell of brackish water and salt air was like a tonic I didn’t know I needed. Jimmy Buffet once said every illness can be cured by the sea … and after this trip I’m inclined to believe it. Granted, in our zeal to soak up as much of the sun as we could, D and I ended up getting a little burnt -- but it’s a small price to pay when you’re watching the waves swallow a huge yellow sunset over a plate of fresh-caught prawns.

Our last night in Kep was by far the most memorable. During the afternoon, I hatched a plan to make homemade sangria using the infamous Randonal wine (which doesn’t even deserve to be called wine) and fresh fruit. Deidre and Nina seemed a little skeptical, but Dan jumped on board and helped rally the troops. After we had our fill of sun and sand, we headed to the crab market to pick up pineapple, oranges, apples, sugar and of course – the vino.

Our hotel restaurant hooked us up with a huge bucket cooler, knives, spoons and mugs so we could get down to work. After dinner, we set our bucket on the beach and kicked back to enjoy the setting sun. Now, the water around Kep is said to contain glowing plankton that makes the water sparkle when you swim at night, but I’ve never seen anything like that before so I had my doubts. As I stared out at the black waves, I noticed the swimming pier was completely obscured by the dark, moonless sky.

Clearly, the only logical thing to do was to go skinny dipping with the plankton and the million and one stars shining down on us. We scrambled down the pier, threw our clothes into a pile, and jumped in. Sad to say, the water didn’t glow at all as we waded out. We began complaining about how our sources had misled us when all of a sudden, as we moved farther and farther into the still water, we began to see flashes of light below the water’s surface following our fingers and toes.

It looked like the stars had fallen into the water and were swimming with us. It was truly one of the most incredible things I’ve ever seen. We tried different swimming strokes to see how the plankton would respond, jumped around, kicked our legs, and scooped water into our hands to see if we could catch them. When we were tired of that, we floated on our backs, looking up at the stars and contemplating the Milky Way.

In a word: paradise. And if that doesn’t make you want to jump on a plane and come visit me, I don’t know what will.

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Miss Manners

Picture this. Tiffany, Tara, Deidre, Kelsey and I are sitting at the United States Embassy eating lunch in the atrium. If there’s one place to be on your best behavior, the United States Embassy is probably it. Spending an afternoon on “American soil” proved to us all just how native we’ve gone … and how badly we’re in denial about it.

Our Program Training Officer, Cheryl, organized a lunch at the Embassy for all the volunteers and our counterparts to kick off the CamTESOL Conference we attended last weekend. We got to meet the new Ambassador, tour the embassy, and talk to people who actually wear suits on a daily basis. The Embassy was beautiful, the food was delicious, and there was air conditioning. Oh yes, and the bathrooms looked exactly like the kind you find in Barnes & Noble (except nicer). There is nothing – and I mean NOTHING – like stainless steel. The whole day was an absolute treat.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. The day before was my birthday and I have to admit, it was a birthday to remember. To my surprise, the administrative staff ordered a cake to kick off my special day. And just when I thought things couldn’t get any better, I realized my best friends had tricked me into believing they weren’t doing anything out of the ordinary … until they surprised me with my second (this time homemade) cake of the day AND a dinner out at a swanky French restaurant followed by drinks at a posh rooftop bar. After 6 months of pinching pennies and living on a shoestring, we all cut loose and brought in my 23rd year in style.

That being said, between the cake, the copious amount of food, and never-ending free birthday drinks, I – along with everyone else to some degree or another – was feeling pretty miserable the next day. But if there’s one thing a Peace Corps Volunteer never does: it’s miss the opportunity for a really really good meal … because you never know when you might be eating boiled fish for the next week.

The girls and I had just finished our meal when we began talking about how funny it’s going to be when we go back to the States and have tablecloths on a regular basis, multiple eating utensils for each course of our meals, and need to follow basic table manners again. Somewhere during the course of this conversation, Deidre got up to get some cheesecake. When she came back, she sat down looking stunned and said, “you know, I think it’s going to be more of a shock than I thought,” and started laughing. Apparently, while she was waiting in line for her dessert she pushed in front of an Embassy staff member. Not uncommon by Cambodian standards, but probably not so much for the man she just cut off. He kindly nodded to her and said, “oh, excuse me” as if it were somehow his fault that she pushed him out of the way and not hers. She took one look at him and turned on her heel and walked away – questioning why he would doubt her lack of queuing skills. I mean, who queues in Cambodia?? Oops.

We were all laughing at Deidre’s faux-pas, when I abruptly stopped what I was doing and shrieked. I was so caught up with Deidre’s story I didn’t realize I had taken my chopsticks out of my bowl and was absentmindedly wiping them clean on the white linen tablecloth. Thank God my mother wasn’t there to see me. Of course, this sent us into more hysterical fits of laughter. We finally decided that as long as we weren’t loading food into our purses, we had probably not hit our low point yet. Although Tiffany did tell the Ambassador she’d be happy to come back to the Embassy strictly to use the bathroom again.

This behavior might seem odd to you, but we live in a world where it’s okay to sit on the ground for dinner and wear flip-flops to work. Casual is just one way of looking at it.

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February 7, 2009

Murder, She Wrote

The scene is pretty typical. I’m riding my bike somewhere and I see a crowd of people. True of any event where mob mentality is involved, there’s pandemonium everywhere. All the motos are stopped, kids are gawking around in the street, and everyone else is huddled around some unfortunate (and usually gruesome) traffic accident. At that point, I pretty much give up on getting to my destination in a timely fashion. This morning was no exception. I was on my way to Sustainable Cambodia when I saw a huge group of people huddled around the entrance of an adjacent hotel. I didn’t think much of it because, frankly, I see so many accidents here that I usually pass them without a second glance. In a place where such tragedies occur almost daily, any more than that will send you into a funk about how casually Cambodians accept death … and traffic laws. And trust me, you don’t want to go there. It was only later that I found out what I thought was a traffic accident … was actually a murder.

The Lily Hotel is located roughly 100 yards from Sustainable Cambodia. Many of the NGO’s employees and volunteers rent rooms there and I, myself, have stayed there on several occasions. The owner’s daughter is in one of my classes and her mother sometimes does my laundry. It’s certainly one of the best hotels in town. You can understand why I hardly believed when one of the volunteers came into the computer room and asked if we had heard the news. A man had been murdered. He was axed to death by a prostitute and then robbed early this morning. The body was just found. The police say the culprit escaped.

I sat in dumb shock for a few minutes thinking this over in my mind. I wish I could say this was the first of such incidents in my town … but it’s the fourth. Around Christmas, a man was killed at a concert by a jealous rival, and a few weeks ago two little girls were raped and brutally mutilated before being killed. In each of these cases, no one was convicted, and the general response from the public was, “these things do happen.” Now, I’m the first to say I think judgment is reserved for God alone, but while we all live together on Earth, there must be some way of sleeping soundly at night. The responsibility of maintaining this fragile tranquility usually falls on the strong arm of the law. But here in Cambodia, the police have neither the means nor the desire to pursue such incidents beyond what can be covered up by bribes, some good tale spinning, and a few words of caution.

I don’t feel unsafe in my town. Pursat is not much bigger than Small Town, U.S.A. and, as the resident foreigner, it’s much more likely that I would be robbed than accosted. After all, Westerners are all filthy rich … or so I’m told. More than that, the community has taken it upon itself to act as my guardian and cicerone. Cambodians are rightly known for their hospitality and warmth. They take this code of welcoming so seriously that some of the earlier volunteers had to have Peace Corps talk with their hosts, reminding them that the volunteers did not need a companion every waking hour of the day. Of course, that doesn’t make me feel any better when I really think about these tragic events.

The general attitude towards the passage of life in Cambodia is very different than in the United States. As I mentioned earlier, Cambodians tend to treat death more casually than we do. Perhaps it has something to do with the lack of modern medical facilities in the rural areas, the fury of tropical illnesses, the history of recent genocide, or the laisse-faire attitude so easily adopted when poverty leaves you with nothing to loose but your life. From my perspective, I certainly can not say. But I will say, it has been one of the most difficult things to adjust to since my arrival.

Never in my life I have contemplated mortality more seriously than during my time here. I’ve seen two motos crash before my eyes, resulting in a flurry of broken glass, twisted metal, and blood. I was confronted with my own fragility while lying on a hospital bed in Thailand, weak and alone with dengue. And now, I’ve seen the vendettas men wreak upon each other without the placating knowledge that someone will be held accountable. I don’t want to wax too philosophical here, but as someone who has lived in bubble of general honesty - where the biggest offenses are plagiarism and underage drinking - this all comes as a bit of a shock to me.

In my heart of hearts, I like to think that men are inherently good, and that good people lead fulfilling and happy lives. I’d certainly like to believe that I will continue to be so blessed. But all this evidence to the contrary reminds me that God is ineffable and that I can’t begin to understand the caprices of fortune. It also reminds me that life is too short to waste on petty differences, that when you love someone you must tell them, and when you are up, you should share your good fortune because someday you might not be so lucky. In honor of all my quixotic hopes and beliefs, I send a prayer out to those who are suffering and have lost someone they love - or themselves - in this life.


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February 3, 2009

Small Victories - Big Difference

In-Service Training (IST) is just two weeks away and that means I have to start thinking about what I’m going to say in my quarterly progress report. As you know, some weeks I feel like I literally accomplish nothing … but when I sat down and started to list the projects I’ve worked on over the last six months, I realized I was underestimating my own achievements! The simple act of breaking down six months worth of work into measurable goals and victories was very satisfying. Call me a visual learner, but I’ve always thought putting things in writing was a great way to reflect on and evaluate just about anything … wonder why I didn’t think of this sooner? Good thing Peace Corps did.

Six months in … and all I can say is, I’ve come a long way, baby! On a professional level, I’ve seen great progress in my students and co-teachers despite the daily frustrations that sometimes lead me to believe they’d be happier remaining in a state of habitual torpor. Two of my co-teachers in particular have begun consistently implementing new methodology into their lessons, resulting in more interactive and engaging classes for their students. Additionally, after six months of crazy activities with the “brang,” my students are not as afraid to speak out in class, take risks, and do silly things they would have been afraid to do when I first arrived.

In that vein, I’ve helped some of my brightest students work on scholarship applications and two of my co-teachers apply for continued learning opportunities. Aside from the obvious chance these programs provide for personal growth, I think all my students and co-workers benefited tremendously from practicing their interview skills with me and discussing application techniques. Additionally, I’ve been working with one of these co-teachers recently to translate a funding proposal requesting additional support for the construction at our school.

Extracurricularly, I’ve organized my school’s library (although it’s presently closed due to said construction), started volunteering four nights a week at an incredible NGO, and working informally with a small group of girls on self-esteem issues. I honestly can’t say enough about the work I do at Sustainable Cambodia. In my classes, we’ve discussed topics ranging from poetry analysis to resume composition and everything in between.

Of course, my major long-term project addressing self-esteem issues is still on the horizon as well. Deidre and I just finished the final draft of our project proposal for Camp G.L.O.W. - Cambodia. Keep your fingers crossed, we’re submitting it for review during IST! Once we secure funding, we can begin finalizing plans for what we hope will be an annual weekend retreat for 15 girls, focusing on healthy lifestyle choices, educational opportunities, and goal setting.

I can also say, six months of serious self reflection (due to Cambodia’s many many national holidays) has given me a chance to figure out what my passions are and start forming a cogent plan for life post-Peace Corps. In high school, my goal was to get to college. In college, my goal was to get good grades so I could get a job. Somewhere along the way, I neglected to think about what that job should be.

I had two pretty consistent love affairs throughout college: one with my English books, and one with French. But when I tell people I majored in French and English, they usually ask if I’m going to be a teacher ... and I’ve always had my doubts about teaching. Doing Peace Corps has helped me realize -- not so much that I want to teach -- but that I want to be an advocate for education. I’ve been lucky enough to follow my academic interests with an almost careless ease. When I see my students here struggling day in and day out to get a fraction of the education I had, it makes me realize what a great gift it really is to be able to pursue the caprices of the mind for no other reason than personal enrichment. Never mind the fact that if these students can complete high school, they will be able to do something truly meaningful with their lives.

To maximize my potential to promote this great institute, I’ve been entertaining the idea of pursuing a masters degree in French or education Either one will give me the freedom to pursue a job with the government, international humanitarian organizations, or, on a more local level, as a school administrator. Yup, all that time spent around crazy Liberals at Hamilton and in PC has rubbed off on me -- I want to save the world. Give me a break.

Peace Corps has been a formative experience in many ways. Aside from this self-revelation, it’s also been a great adventure. I’ve seen ancient temples, been (almost) attacked by rabid monkeys, eaten pickled pig skin, chilled out in jungle hammocks, and chatted with people who have witnessed genocide first hand. Just call me Lara Croft, right? But it isn’t always easy. Being a volunteer can be intensely lonely. It’s hard to imagine that you can be surrounded by hundreds of people and still feel alone … but when you can’t truly speak their language, I assure you, you can.

I’ve always been reliant on other people, so in many ways, I think this experience has been good for me. The truth is, I’m not really alone. My Cambodian friends are always up to grab a cup of coffee and discuss local gossip, other PCVs are only a text or bus ride away, and my family and friends in the States are behind me 100% of the way. No, I’m not alone. None of us are. What we feel on those long, quiet nights or hazy afternoons when Cambodia is taking its daily siesta is the first step of becoming truly self-reliant.

This experience is, above all, an exercise in independence. It’s up to you to find your own happiness, set your own goals, and add meaning to your daily life. Peace Corps can be bureaucratic at times (it IS a government organization, after all), but they don’t cosset us. We’re truly out here on our own. And that’s a great feeling … once you get over the initial shock that no one’s going to hold your hand for it. It’s OUR life and OUR adventure. I guess they don’t call it the “hardest job you’ll ever love” for nothing.

So for now, I’m off to go live mine. This weekend there’s a province-wide soccer tournament that I need to dust off my pom-poms for and a week’s worth of Valentine-themed activities to plan for my students before next week!


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