Wedding Season

            These last few weeks have been a blur of pastel colors, sequins, icy beer, dirty toes, and pounding ear drums. As many of you already know, there are only 2 seasons in Cambodia. Rainy season, and then wedding season (aka dry season). Smart readers would be able to deduce that now it is indeed wedding season. I have been to 5 weddings already, and it’s still only the first month of wedding season. Most of these weddings, I had absolutely no idea who was getting married. The first 2 or 3 weddings, were friends of my family. Invitations were dropped off at my house. The wedding hosters asked my brother and sister “can she eat Khmer food?” “yes.” “Can she dance?” “yes.” “bring her.” Another wedding I went to was the daughter of someone who works in the market. When I arrived at the wedding, they brought me to the market lady and said “see? You know her!” I had no idea who she was so I kind of stammered for a bit. Then they said “you bought laundry soap from her in the market once!” “…..OH! yeah ok….” (total lie). Why would I remember something like that? Well apparently she remembered me and made sure that I was invited to her daughter’s wedding. The last wedding I went to was the daughter of a teacher at my school, so all the teachers were invited.

            Wedding celebrations begin before sunrise- at about 4:30AM. I couldn’t really tell you what happens then, because I have never been involved in that part of the ceremony. I just know that by 4:30, the giant speakers are set up and are blasting traditional Khmer music to awaken the community and alert them that there is a marriage happening. The female invitees start getting ready sometime after lunch. They go to local beauticians and get their nails, hair, and make-up done. I like getting my nails done here. Khmer people love sparkles and big colorful nail stickers. One of my adult students is a beautician, so she does my nails for free (although even if I were to pay for it, it would only be about 50 cents for a mani pedi).

SIDE STORY:

It was the first time I was going to my student’s beautician shop to get the free mani pedi she promised me in exchange for teaching her English. She set to work on my toes. She scrubbed the old nail polish off, put lotion on my toes, and then started cutting away at my cuticles. All the while, she’s having a very rapid conversation in Khmer with my sister (not all that different from nail salons in America haha). She is really cutting away. Cambodians like nails to be extremely rounded, so she’s trying to make my feet Khmer. Not gonna lie, it kinda hurt. Then she really clipped me bad. My eyes widened, but I didn’t say anything. I just watched the blood gush out. Then she looked down and quickly looked back up at me.

“teacher! Blood!”

“yes- I see that”

“does it hurt?”

“a little”

She wiped away the blood with a rag and continues working. She moved on to my fingernails, but every minute or so, she would wipe the fresh blood from my toe, until her yellow rag was stained all over with my blood. She wiped again. And again. And again.

“teacher, you’re bleeding FOREVER”

“yes- I see that”

She stood up and went over to her counter and came back with a slice of a lemon. She sat down again, held it over my toe, and then paused. She looked up at me and said “teacher, this is going to hurt” and to my horror, she squeezed the lemon juice into the open wound.

Whether it really helped or not, I don’t know. But eventually the bleeding stopped, and all my nails were deemed beautiful.

Now when I go get my nails done, they ladies are MUCH more careful haha. Though they still use that yellow rag with my blood stains all over it…

Aight. So WEDDINGS. Once your nails are done, then you get your hair did. I’ve only let them do my hair once. They just did two simple braids on top of my head. Normally, they do all kinds of big twisty do’s. Many times it’s even bigger than prom hair! Then it’s make-up time. The most important stuff is the white foundation or cover-up or whatever it is. They just cake that stuff on. I tease them all the time and tell them they look like ghosts or Dracula. They make pink circles on their cheeks, paste on long fake eyelashes, and color in the lips. By the end of the process they look like little china dolls. Sometimes when I see my students at weddings, I don’t recognize them right away because they look so different with the make-up. I have not yet let Cambodians do my make-up. But maybe one day I will, just for funsies.

            Then you come home and you change your clothes. Men wear the same thing that they wear every day- slacks and a collared shirt. Women, for the most part, wear their traditional Khmer wedding clothes. They have fancy colorful sampots (long skirts) made of silk. Then their shirts are kind of like more modest versions of corsets- absolutely COVERED in lace and sequins. Some women who are part of the wedding party wear entire dresses like this. Again, it’s just like prom- but on steroids or something. They are all in bright, sparkly colors too. You’ll never see a black dress. Some women do wear “western” dresses to weddings, particularly if it is not a “rich” wedding and they have hopes of dancing big.

            When you arrive at the wedding, you walk into the tent between two lines of people in the wedding party. I can only assume that the bride and groom are in the somewhere, but I’ve never actually known a bride or groom. You “sompaya” at all of them (hold a praying position just under your nose to show respect). They usually give you a little treat, such as a pen or a keychain. Then you are seated at a table, and the food comes.

            Weddings are like a 3 course meal, and it’s usually pretty good food. They have spring rolls and peanuts and roast chicken or duck and fried rice and soup and stir fried shrimp, and more. The food is all placed in the middle of the table and you are free to take whatever you please with your chopsticks.

            During all this feasting is also binge drinking. The beer just never stops flowing. Beer glasses are never allowed to be empty. The only time you ever see empty glasses is when the table has a “bottoms up” competitions. But even then, all the glasses are filled up again in seconds flat.

            Once the feast is over, it’s dancing time. Mostly it’s all traditional Khmer music and traditional dancing. It’s simple footwork and then twisty stuff with your hands, trying to make your fingers look longer than they actually are. Occasionally, they throw in a Khmer Pop Song, and Khmer people dance “disco,” as they call it (a most incorrect term..). Before coming to Cambodia, I thought that dancing exactly like a Charlie Brown cartoon character was not humanly possible. Oh, but it is possible here in the Kingdom of Wonder. It’s so silly. If I’m REALLY lucky they might even play an American popular song.

            At most of these weddings I have been kind of unhappy. It’s just not exactly my cup of tea. I usually do drink a bit. It makes my family and friends so happy when I cheers with them. But I stop before any else does. I also dance. Everyone always wants to dance with me. I can do all the different traditional dances. They’re not exactly FUN though. They are slow and gentle and LOOOOONG. I have had issues with creepy men I don’t know trying to dance all up in my business, but nothing I couldn’t control. I don’t know. I think I would enjoy weddings more if they were so frequent. I had four in one week!

            There were times that I let loose a little and enjoy myself. Mostly I am on my guard, but occasionally, if I am surrounded by people I trust, I will let go and dance and enjoy myself with my friends. I like weddings at those times.

            Mostly it is just the men who binge drink, but one wedding I went to, there were 3 women who were the most un-khmer women I’ve ever met. Women here pride themselves on being sopeap- gentle. These women were not gentle. I think they drank more than my brother! So that was a completely different experience because there was so much pressure for me to keep up with them. They would tell me to finish my glass. I would say NO and they would laugh. The drunker they got, the more in my face they were about it. It wasn’t threatening, more just comical. They were big women (again, so different from the norm). One woman in particular would come over to me, lean over to pick up my glass, thus shoving her giant boobs all up in my face, and ask me to drink drink drink! Dancing with these women was also crazy. It was like pinball, and I was the ball. They literally pushed and tugged me around the dance floor, fighting over who would get to dance in front of me. It was a real… experience.

            My co-teacher had a party at his house on Christmas eve for his students. That was a lot of fun. He had the giant speakers and the dancing tent. I had a great time there. They played lots of American music and upbeat stuff that I could actually dance to. Plus, I knew most of the kids cuz they were my students too! And of course they all knew me. I was a little weirded out that kids as young as 12 were allowed to get drunk. I was also a little uncomfortable dancing with my students to songs with lyrics such as “tonight, give me everything tonight” and “tonight I’m fucking you.” But I supposed they can’t understand it anyway. The only thing they understand is the driving, pounding bass sounds. Anyway, I had a lot of fun at that party. Not exactly a QUIET Christmas party, but fun nonetheless.

            Speaking of Christmas, on Christmas morning, I surprised my family by putting a small Christmas tree in the living room while they were sleeping, and surrounding it with small gifts. When my sister came out of her bedroom I heard her say “ooooooh…. CHRISTMAS CHRISTMAS! HUSBAND, LOOK, CHRISTMAS!” It was very sweet. They also each had a stocking with their name written in glitter filled with candy. I gave my sister a pair of sunglasses, mascara and eyeliner, and a sewing kit. She loved the make up and the sewing kit, but my brother teased her for the glasses, so we’ll see about those. For my brother I had a Khmer-English dictionary, and a strand of battery operated Christmas lights. I gave him Christmas lights because I was at a complete loss of what else to give him. However, it seems to have been extremely successful. He put his Christmas lights all around a bowl of fake fruit in the living room. He turns it on every night. It’s so cute.

            That Christmas moment was wonderful, but the rest of my Christmas was kind of ruined by---- a wedding. NEXT DOOR. I had hopes of spending my Christmas watching movies and relaxing, but instead I had to beautify and primp and try not to lose my mind from the pounding speakers that shook my entire house.

            So, heres to hoping that your Christmas was a little more peaceful than mine. And I wish you a very happy new year as well.

Pctiures:

1. Gurl, check out mah finguhs

2. People dancing under a tent at a wedding

3. from left to right I dunno, my oldest sister, me, and my sister

4. wedding foods

5. My Christmas surprise

6. Stockings!

7. Merry Christmas

How Did the Chicken Cross the Road?

(This is not a joke)

I’ve gained a lot of knowledge and skills in the past nearly 5 months, much of which will be completely useless when I go back to America. However, this knowledge will serve me well for the next 22 months.

One of the most useful skills I’ve obtained is the ability to read a chicken’s mind. Well, not really. But I have figured out how to avoid running over chickens while in transit.

Here’s how it works.

Chickens like to go for walks. Just like you and me, they like to go on adventures and sometimes even get brave enough to leave the compound and cross the street (HAHAHA! … I’ve never understood this joke).

I have come very close to running over chickens countless times. But now I am one with the chickens. I understand them.

When a chicken crosses the street, it only has one thing in mind- the other side of the street. It does not consider distance, and space. Backtracking is almost never an option for a chicken. It must press onward and deliver the punchline to get to the other side. When it sees you coming, it is going to get flustered, lift its wings, and DASH!

So what does this mean for people in transit?

This means, that no matter how far the distance is between the chicken and “the other side”, and how slow the chicken is walking when you first see it, you must go BEHIND the chicken. Don’t try to go in front of the chicken, where there is plenty of road left. The chicken will run right under your tire.

Here’s a diagram.

                       you

                         |    /

                     O—O                                chicken

                                                                 (^)

                                                                (    )

- - - - TRAVEL HERE- - - - - -

______________________________________________________________________________

Don’t forget it.

The last picture is a shot of some goats hangin out with Buddha.

The first 5 shots are of my running route. There's a wide dirt path right through the rice fields that I go running on. When I first got here, I went running almost every day. I haven't been running in a month now.. lol. I'm too busy. and lazy. but mostly too busy.

These pictures are from 2 months ago. The rice fields were still green and long. Now it's harvest season, so the rice fields are muddy and bare. But not for long, I'm sure.

Pictures do not do the rice fields justice. You just have to come seem them yourself.

Sometimes...

Some days I feel like the luckiest person alive to be where I am. I am learning so much, and there are so many people who are so good to me.

Some days I feel so inspired to just dig in and work til I drop. Just let that sweat pour out and see if the world is any different once I'm done.

Other days I just don't want to get up. I wanna crawl under my mosquito net, close my eyes, and when I open them I want to be in my own bed at home.

And still other days, I am just purely existential. I go through the motions, but it's all out of my hands. There's not much of a difference between working to better something and just keeping busy for my own sake.

Sometimes I look at the 22 months ahead of my and I think that's pretty much forever. 22 months in this school in this village with this family.. 

Other times I look at 22 months and I can't believe how fast time is moving. I worry I wont be able to do all the things I hope to do if time continues to move so fast.

Sometimes I have terrible migraines and I think for sure that I'm getting dengue fever.

Sometimes I have diarrhea.

Often I have diarrhea...

Sometimes I watch my students and think about how proud I am of them, and how I can't wait to watch them grow. I dream of their futures for them.

Sometimes I watch my students helplessly, realizing that there is very little I can do to improve their lives in the long run.

Sometimes I leave class upset, knowing that the last two hours was a waste of everyone's lives.

Sometimes I leave class and realize that my cheeks hurt from smiling through the entire lesson.

Sometimes I feel so very close to all the people here, and I feel very loved and full of love for them.

Sometimes my heart literally aches for specific people that I left behind.

Sometimes I love how everyone knows me and is interested in me.

Sometimes I just wanna be invisible.

Sometimes I laugh.

Sometimes I cry.

Sometimes I listen to music that makes me miss home very much. You might confuse me for a HS emo kid.

Sometimes I dance alone in my room in my underwear to Lady Gaga or some good KPop.

Sometimes I feel terrible for not being the best at keeping in touch with people at home.

Sometimes I am upset with people from home for not being able to read my mind and know that I need to talk to them NOW.

Always, I am hot.

Once, I was cold.

But to sum up this blog post (which started out as a personal email, but emerged from there) no matter what combinations of "sometimes'" I am in, I ALWAYS know I made the right choice, and I wouldn't trade this for anything. 

1. One of the holes in my floor

2. A couple of my friends. I can deal with these spiders. Its the ones with the thick bodies I can't handle.

3 and 4. The porch outside my room. The door on the left is my room. On the right is the main family room.

5. A typical meal. Lok Lak- lettuce and other vegetables with beef on top. Duck egg. and fish soup.

6. A closer look at that fish soup.

Hand/Hair- Same Same But Different

WOW! When did I get so busy?? It appears that I have the same problem here as I did when I was home. I love being involved, and I have a hard time saying no or passing up opportunities.

So as I’ve mentioned before, I’m having a grand old time teaching my adult beginner English class. It’s particularly satisfying to me, because I get to give them a taste of their own medicine. I’ve been teased quite a bit because of my American accident trying to speak Khmer. And sometimes, I just speak wrong. And when I do, they really let me have it.

One day I had my photo album out and I was showing my 2 sisters bits of my life in America. I opened up to the page with my two cats- Linus and Lucy. I explained that they were different cats- one was a girl and one was a boy. Ch’maa sryee nung ch’maa bro. Well, apparently, this was hilarious, because there are different words for female and male when it comes to animals. My sisters proceeded to tell everyone in my village that I said girl cat and boy cat. I still haven’t lived that down. Every time we talk about animals now, they always bring up animal genders and tease me by speaking about animals with human language.

I also have issues pronouncing the word for egg and the word for older. So I very often accidentally call my sister “egg sister” instead of “older sister”. And the list goes on.

My oldest sister, the one who lives in the back apartment of the house, is the funniest person to teach English to. She just tries so hard, but makes the funniest mistakes. The first mistake I caught her making was mixing up the word for hand and hair. She pointed to her hair and said “hand!” So I laughed, and put my hand on my head with my fingers pointing up, asking her if my hair was pretty. And I will never let her live that down.

Recently, I taught my students good morning, good afternoon, good evening, and good night. My oldest sister gets these confused all the time. She came home from work at noon, and told me “good night!” She came downstairs after dinner and told me “good morning!” The best part about all of this is her face. She always has a huge smile on, and she is beautiful. She has really kind eyes that smile even more often than her mouth.

Sometimes when I’m eating, she likes to sit next to me and count to a hundred. She can pretty much do this successfully- but when she messes up… she starts over at one again. Haha you can imagine how that could get old fast.

During class, I will be teaching, and she’ll be talking to herself AT LEAST 5 minutes behind in the lesson. Sometimes I have to stop everything just to let her catch up.

The other day I asked her “what is your job?” and she replied “my job is 46”. I said “Oh really, then what is your age?”

She is quite lovable. I just look at her and I smile and giggle.

Now for a completely different topic- carpenter bees.

So I had a carpenter bee friend for about 2 weeks. Every morning I would open my window trying to keep my room under 100 degrees, if possible, and in would fly my carpenter bee. He would head straight to my door leading into the main part of the house and start chomping away. I would come home from teaching a few hours later, and find him in the same place, except at least a centimeter deep in his own hole. I would stick around and wait for him to take a break and go outside. Then I would take that opportunity to cover his hole with a piece of Peace Corps- provided- medical tape. Then the next day he would come back and just start a new hole. I should mention that this guy was pretty big. The kind of bee that makes you really uncomfortable even if it is not interested in you. One day, I finally had it with this bee. I let him dig himself a hole in my wall this time. What he didn’t know was that this time, he was digging his very own grave. Then, when he was in deep enough for me to cover the hole, I slammed a piece of tape over the hole, right over his butt. You could even see the point of his butt stuck to the tape. This was about a month ago. He is still buried under that tape. May he rest in peace. I’m sorry he had to go this way.

Enough anecdotes. Now for the serious stuff. Exactly what have you been doing that has kept you so busy?

I have finally started Khmer language tutoring. I meet with a teacher (who is one of my co-teachers) for 3 hours every week. Right now we are just reviewing everything I learned in training, and occasionally going over some reading and writing stuff. He is unaware of just how much Khmer I know. Anyone who knows me knows how I have a serious thirst to prove myself. So you can imagine how lessons go. I run the show and I ask him questions based on topics I want to know. Sometimes I yell at him for explaining things in English. I can understand Khmer! Let me prove it to you!

I also have the Honor Society that I started. That is also a lot of fun. I always leave there so proud of these brilliant students. It’s so refreshing standing in front of a group of kids who all care about learning English, and are perfectly capable of communicating.

This week I started a library development project. I had been asking consistently for almost 2 months if I could just SEE the library. They kept telling me no because it wasn’t finished or it wasn’t beautiful. Finally I convinced them that I should see the library because I could HELP them with it. So they took me to see it and..

It was even worse than I had imagined. The books were just in a heap on a floor. They were filthy, covered in spiders, and torn. So, perfect timing, the following day was a school clean up day, which means that there was no teaching. Students came to clean the school. So I enlisted about 20 students to help me begin to clean and organize. They came and they were helpful to some extent. We got all the books off the floor at least, and they were almost organized.

So now, whenever I have free time, I go up to the library to continue organizing. This stage is better to do alone, or with a very small number of students. I stole the library key, so I can let myself in when I have free time. There are 2 girls in the grade 10 class who always see me in the library, and they come to hang out with me and help. I love their company. They crack me up. We practice conversing in English while I organize the books, and they straighten the piles and sweep the dirt out of the room. Today I rewarded both of them with a chewy bar.

At this point, we have well over 2,000 books, but they are almost all really old textbooks- and they’re all the same. For example, we have like 300 of the same beaten up geography textbooks from who knows what year. Once I organize everything and take inventory of what we have, I need to figure out what to do with these books. I have ideas, but I need to run them past the school director. Then I will apply to an NGO to have books- real books- donated to our library. I will probably also need to find a way to get funding, because we are going to need shelves for these books.

It’s also testing time. Students in Cambodia have tests every month at the end of the month. I’m one of those sick teachers who actually likes giving tests and grading them. I guess I just like to see whether or not the students learned anything. So I have over a hundred tests to grade and whatnot.

I am happiest when I am busy, so things are going well. 

These are all pictures from my room. Cute, right? The last picture is the hole in my ceiling. You can imagine the sorts of critters who live up there and make all kinds of noise scurrying about at night. 

oh, and check out this video I made:

for a description, to see my other videos, or to post a comment, go to the actual video page: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kra7P6o7NK4

Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder

            It is so interesting the way different countries perceive beauty, especially when you compare Western countries and Eastern countries.

            In Cambodia, the most beloved feature a person can have is white skin, which is really kind of absurd, because Khmer people have the darkest skin of any other Asian country. Every type of soap, make-up, lotion, etc. has some sort of “advanced whitening formula”. Like our toothpastes, except for their skin. I doubt those actually work, but Khmer people (especially women) use it to no end. They also stay out of the sun as much as possible. And I mean they really go out of their way to stay out of the sun. If they DO have to go out and travel, or work in the fields, they will be wearing long pants, long sleeves, a hat with a wide brim, and even a surgeon’s mask. The surgeon mask has a dual purpose. It keeps the sun off the face, and the dust out of the lungs. Some Khmer women, even wear these crazy thong socks. My sister loves these things. The first time I ever got tipsy, at the ripe old age of 14, I invented the thong sock- a sock with a part between your big toe and the next toe. That way, you could wear socks AND flip flops. Well, somebody must have stolen my idea and ran with it, cuz now they are all the rage in Cambodia! Anything to keep your feet white..

            Everywhere I go, people comment first about my white skin, which actually isn’t very white anymore. Old ladies and children like to feel it, to make sure it’s real. Sometimes people will put their own arm next to mine and talk about how much more beautiful I am. Of course I never just let that go. I have a conversation at least once a day about how American’s actually prefer darker skin. I tell them about how people lay out in the sun, just to make their skin darker. That is just insanity to them. I tried also explaining about tanning salons, but they couldn’t even begin to fathom that.

            Sometimes it’s really sad to hear Khmer people talking about how much they desire white skin. I’ve heard people say things like “If I ride my bike at this time, my husband would stop loving me because I would be blacker” or “I don’t love her because she is black, but I married her anyway” or even “my daughter/son is not beautiful because s/he is black”. The only thing I can do is tell them how beautiful I think they are or whoever. I do my best

            The next important feature is the nose. Khmer people like straight, long, pointy noses. Of course, this is very different from their own small, wide, rounded noses. Many of them have noses that we would call “as cute as a button”, but they look at my beak of a nose and say “wow! Beautiful!” I’ve definitely never been complimented about my nose before I got here.

            Khmer people also prefer lighter hair. A few Khmer people actually dye their hair blonde, but it looks terrible, and I think most Khmer people know that. Instead, Khmer women and some men try to go for a dark red color, to lighten their long black locks. Students and teachers, however, are not allowed to dye their hair, as I found out recently. One of my students asked me why I didn’t dye my hair black. Turns out, teachers and students are forbidden to dye their hair blonde or red or any other color. After that was all cleared up, I laughed and explained to her that I don’t dye my hair. It’s natural. And I would look really silly with black hair.

            Interestingly enough, Khmer people prefer small eyes. They are not impressed by the big eyes of foreigners. The various colors of eyes (aside from their dark brown) interests them a little, but I very rarely hear about my eyes. It’s always my skin, sometimes my nose, and rarely my hair.

            I’m a little unclear about the Khmer stance on fatness. I think they like a little fat. Or as they say it, they like having some meat on the body. But in a country where, genetically, they people are mostly stick thin, “having a little meat” is the same as someone considered skinny in America. They don’t view obesity as beautiful, but it can sometimes be a status thing- basically showing that yes, I have enough money to feed my family and then some. So my family is having a great time watching me gain a little weight, but my brother and sister always tease each other for being “fat” and tell each other to stop eating.

            Oh, I almost forgot! Arm hair! Hahaha Khmer people LOVE my arm hair. Now, my arms look absolutely ridiculous. My skin is golden brown from the sun, but the sun also made my thick arm hair really really white. You can’t miss it. My friends would tease me so much if they could see it! But here, everyone loves it. Legit. They think it’s beautiful. I often catch people sneaking up to pet my arms. They must think that I wont feel it if they gently pet my arm hair haha. Sometimes when I am giving students individual help, they stop listening to what I say and instead just pet my arm. It’s so weird! But hilarious and sorta flattering. I miss the teasing about my arms though. I try to tease myself in front of my family, and see if I can get them to tease me too, but they just tell my they like it.

            Now there are a list of other things that, in America, subtract from beauty, but in Cambodia, don’t make a difference.

            The most disturbing thing on the list is mole hair. Let me tell you, there are some really impressive hairy moles in Cambodia, and Khmer people, especially men, wear them with pride almost. I will never understand this. Some hairy moles have longs strands over 3 inches long! Coming off of their FACE! Why on EARTH don’t you shave that thing?? But they don’t. They let it grow.

            Khmer men also like to grow out one of their nails. I couldn’t tell you why. I tried to find out, but they basically told me “for no reason. Just because we can.” So they will have one beautifully rounded long nail, that juts out past the tip of their finger nearly a centimeter.

            Women here don’t shave their legs. And I gotta tell you, I’m jealous! Shaving is such a hassle. And once you start- there’s no going back. Your hair is thick and black after that. And I am honestly not bothered by their hairy legs. I rarely see it though. Khmer women wear long skirts and pants.

            Peace Corps really stresses how every individual volunteer in every country has a completely different experience, and as cliché as it is, it is 100% true. People react to me based on how I look all day every day. I am given some prestige, simply because I have white skin.  But I also lose some prestige, simply because I am a woman. In general, people WANT to talk to me and be around me because they believe I am beautiful. Sometimes this works to my advantage, and sometimes it is a disadvantage. It’s good to be accepted, but sometimes people wont look past my skin or my looks. Those are the men that scream “I love you” at me as I ride by. They don’t care that I’m on my way to teach at the school for no money, or that I’m here to improve their village. It’s just a good joke with their friends to talk about the hott white foreigner who now lives in their town. Sometimes even my male co-teachers will fight over who gets to teach with me, and very often I feel that it’s more because of what I look like than because of my teaching skills.

            Anyway, so this is my experience and mine alone. Maybe some people have similar, but never the same. After all, there is no one out there who looks exactly like me. (I COULD pass for a younger Uma Thurman though, so I am told).

1. The pond in my backyard.

2. 3. My kitchen, underneath my house.

4. The hallway in the back of my house. In the bottom right corner, you can see a bit of the white doorway to the bathroom. The other doors on the right are where my other brother and sister live. To the left is the main living area.

5. The bathroom. Yes, this one has a western style toilet! Don't get too excited, there's still no running water, and no toilet paper. 

6. My family's dog- Keekee. He's hanging out on the stairs in the back of the house. He's a really sweet dog, but unfortunately very dirty. He likes me though cuz I dont yell at him, and cuz I sometimes pat his head. He's got such a sweet face!

My Crib, Mi Casa, P'tayah Knyom

And a bit about cookin’ in Cambodia

            I’ll tell you a little bit about my house at permanent site.

            This house is a very traditional wooden house. It is built up on stilts, so you can walk from the front yard to the backyard (why is front yard 2 words and backyard one word?) under the house. There is a small cement room under the house that functions as a garage. At night, the motorbikes and my bicycle are locked in there. It also stores large bags of rice and a wheelchair. I understand the rice.. I couldn’t tell you why we have a wheelchair. To the right of the cement garage is the kitchen/eating area. My family eats at a small round metal folding table. In the “kitchen” there are two main surfaces. The first is a large short table that my sister sits on and does her preparation and cooking. The other surface is where clean dishes and cooking sauces are stored. Then behind both surfaces there are 3 fire pits. There is also a stone basin where my sister does dishes. The fire pits are used, but we also have a small portable gas stove that my sister uses a lot.

            Behind the kitchen area are 2 more tiny cement rooms. One is a shower area and the other is a toilet area. I don’t use these though. My brothers and sisters use it, and my neighbors use it. Now we’re at the back of the house. There are cubbies back there for parking the cars in the shade. Behind that is a small pond (with surprisingly big fish). This is everybody’s favorite place to hang out. It is the coolest part of the house, and it’s the farthest place away from the noisy roads. There are 2 hammocks hung right next to the pond. Perfection.

            All around the grounds of the house, there are fresh vegetation, fruit trees, and flowers. We have an orange tree, a coconut tree, another fruit tree with icky fruit I forget how to say, and probably more I don’t know about. When my sister makes food, she always makes her way around the house, picking fresh greens to add to her soup.  

            Alright, let’s head upstairs now. There are cement stairs at the front of the house leading up to the porch. The porch is quite nice. There are wooden benches and chairs (unfortunately without any cushions. This whole country is seriously lacking cushioning). I do a lot of my lesson planning here, because it is cooler than inside.

           

            The room to the left of the porch is mine. I’m happy that my room can be accessed from the porch, because I have my own lock and key and I do not have to go through my family’s part of the house to get to it.

            My rooms pretty basic, but I love it and I made it my own- particularly with some photos I was lucky enough to have with me, medical-taped to the wall. To the left of the door is my hamper and my trunk. There are nails all over my bedroom on the walls, which are very helpful. Hanging above my hamper are my bags- a purse, a small backpack, and a messenger bag. I also hung a handkerchief there for me to dry my hands when I come back from the bathroom. Hanging above my trunk is a stack of hangers, a knitted bag where I keep my sunglasses, and also my instruments- a ukulele, a violin, and a music stand. Next to that is my bed, complete with a pillow, a sheet, and a mosquito net. Continuing around the room, we are now at my desk, which my family so generously put in my room. It’s a nice sturdy wooden desk. On my desk I keep a large stack of books, my computer, my water filter, pens and pencils, my photo albums, my binder, etc. Three is a small cabinet on the left side of my desk, where I fit as much clothes as I can. The rest are in my trunk. I have a small highly uncomfortable wicker chair to sit at my desk with. Next to my desk, I hang my towel and my sarong. I also have a small mirror I put there, so I can see just how red and sweaty my face is whenever I want to. Then on the floor I have the giant pot that Peace Corps gave to us so we can bleach our water. In that I store my toothbrush, toothpaste, antibacterial, sunblock, mascara, floss, etc.

           

            I do have a door connecting to the main part of the house, so at night when the front door is already locked I can still go join my family watching TV. The walls in the living room are covered in GIANT slightly scary pictures of family members dressed up nicely and not smiling. There are 2 extra beds for if company stay over. There is a mattress on the floor where my brother and sister lay when they are watching TV. I sit a few feet away either on the floor, or on one of the extra beds. Unless of course my brother is away. Then it is perfectly acceptable to cuddle with my sister and watch bad TV, debating over what we think makes a male actor handsome. My brother’s and sister’s room is connected off the main living area as well.

            There are large doors that lead to the rest of the house at the back of the room. As you go through the doors, you are perpendicular to a hallway, facing 4 more small rooms. All the way to the right is the bathroom. This one I use. The other 3 rooms are the living space of the rest of my family- an older couple I also call my brother and sister. They have a small indoor kitchen, a bedroom, and an office space. There are stairs at the back of the house leading up to the hallway as well.

            And that’s it. What a boring blog. Sorry.

            Would you believe me if I told you my family thinks I know how to cook? Haha, everyone in America knows better. Before I came to Cambodia I was invited to a dinner party. I was bringing white rice- a joke, poking fun at my upcoming diet for the next 2 years. I ended up burning the rice. Bad. How do you screw up white rice? Who knows.

            Well, I’ve cooked a couple times for my family. The most successful dish I made was pasta! I bought bowtie pasta at a supermarket in Phnom Penh before I moved to site. I made garlic pasta with baby shrimp and broccoli. It was good. Success. Before that I made oatmeal. I made enough oatmeal to feed about 20 people, just for 3 people. Woops. It didn’t look like much in the bag. Anyway, I put banana, peanut butter, and sugar in it. It was okay. My sister loved it, but she doesn’t understand how delicious oatmeal is actually supposed to be.

            Today I was telling my sister that we have soup in America- but it very rarely has whole fish in it. It usually has chicken, beef, or pork, noodles, vegetables, and sometimes rice. She asked me to make it for her one day. Sorry sister. You have too much faith in my cooking skills. It’s okay, she wouldn’t like it anyway. Soup here is not “delicious” unless it is sour or sweet. Never salty. I like salty soup..

            Work is going well. I'm getting really fond of some of my students. Especially my grade 10 class. I wish I could just teach them every day. They make me laugh so much. I love em to death!
           My English class for beginner adults is up and running and is quite successful. I have about 7 or 8 students. They really want to learn and are appreciative. I try to make it as fun and relative to their lives as possible. There are 2 random guys who come who already can speak English fairly well. But I'm not going to change the level of the class for them. I labeled this a beginners class. If they want to sit in, great, if not, sorry. So far they're fairly patient. One even bought me some markers.
            Yesterday I came downstairs to an exciting change in furniture. They made a little classroom for me! I love it. They put my whiteboard on the wall. Then there are 2 large wooden desks lined up facing the board. I don't understand where the desks came from and how they got her. My second brother said he got them from the backyard (???). Whatever, I think its so cool!

Pictures.

1.2. and 3. These are pictures of the lake/river in Prey Vang town, about 15k from my house. I love the little boy sittin on the edge. By the way, this was before the flooding. When the flooding was at its worst, the water was lapping over the edge of the concrete.

4. The market in Prey Vang town, fairly empty, surprisingly. And almost as muddy as the market near my house.

5. My house.

6. The pond in my backyard. This was taken before the hammock was put up. Now the hammock hangs from that post right there.

Oh, you know how to do laundry!

So, you wanna join the Peace Corps, eh? You wanna take bucket baths, poop in a hole, and wash your laundry by hand? Sounds like an adventure!

It’s amazing how quickly those adventurous sounding things become just your typical every day life. Normal. Ordinary chores. At least for me, it’s not good, it’s not bad… it just is. It’s whatcha gotta do.

For your general knowledge, this is the process of washing your clothes in Cambodia. Or as it is called here: Bowk cow ow (except no one says it in full- its more like bowka-ow).

Step one: Get at least 2 big buckets. Put powdered detergent in one of the buckets. Then put enough water in both buckets to cover your clothes.

Step two: Put your clothes in the bucket with soap.

Step three: Take your first article of clothing. Turn it inside out. With a scrub brush, scrub the collar and armpits. If you are washing pants or jeans, scrub down the length of the pants.

Step 4: Take a fistful of material in both hands, and scrub together, slowly moving your way from one end of the material to the other.

Step 5: Ring the article of clothing out as best as you can, and then place it in the bucket with water.

(*Note* Most people use fabric softener at this point. They soak their clothes in fabric softener, and then continue one with step 6. Personally, I do not. I don’t want to spend money of fabric softener, and I am too lazy to add another step)

Step 6: Repeat until all the articles of clothing are in the second bucket

Step 7: Try not to be too shocked at how dirty the water is after washing your clothes.

Step 8: In the clean water bucket, once again take an article of clothing, and scrub fistfuls of material together just like before.

Step 8: Once again, ring it out as best as you can. This time place it back into your hamper.

Step 9: Repeat with the rest of your laundry until all your clothes are in your hamper.

Step 10: Dump the dirty water in your family’s designated water-dumping-area.

Step 11: Hang your laundry out to dry. You may choose to hang it with hangers or without, it doesn’t matter. Also, you can hang them on a line in the sun, or a line under a roof. Clothes in the sun will dry faster, but you also run the risk of sudden downpours catching you off guard.

Step 12: 12-24 hours later (12 if it is in the sun all day, 24 if it is not) you can take down your clothes, fold them, and put them away.

            Doing your laundry by hand really kind of destroys your hands. My fingers are always peeling for a day or 2 after I’m done laundry. I usually do laundry every 5 days. My sister has incredibly dry skin because of the amount of laundry and dishwashing she does. I feel bad because she’s really embarrassed by it. She says she has hands like an old woman, and she actually doesn’t like leaving the house because of it. After a couple of tries, she did finally get some medicine that would actually help her hands, and they are improving.

            Doing my laundry in Takeo with my training family was very different from doing my laundry here in Prey Vang. In Takeo, there was always people watching me. My little sister would always come help me, which was sweet but often kind of unwanted. Then of course my little brother Leeny would get jealous that Titi was spending time with me, so he would try to help too. I would tell him no thank you. So he would fill up another bucket with water right next to me, take his clothes off, and then run and jump into his bucket, splashing water all over. Sometimes my older sister would watch me for a while silently. I would tell her “yes I KNOW I’m not all that good at this!” and we would laugh. But she wouldn’t stop watching. During all this, I would be trying to do my underwear whenever I could get a sure 20 seconds of no one looking. This was pretty difficult. Then my mother would come along, watch me for a split second, and then get frustrated with how long it was taking me. Or maybe how bad I was at it. Who knows. So she’d squat down next to me and start speeding through my clothes. I would try to grab my underwear and do my underwear myself. She would look at me funny and then snatch it back, basically saying “get over yourself, I do laundry for 7 people in this house, including my 5 children. Don’t you think I’ve seen dirty underwear before?” Then I would hang my clothes on the outdoor line either with my lil sister or my mother. Then I would be busy during the day going to my training classes. Sometime around 3 or 4 it would start pouring and my mother would run out to salvage my clothes. She’d pull them down from the line quickly, and then hang them back up on a line that was under a canopy. If they were already dry, she would fold them neater than I ever could (and probably faster. I never saw her do it) and place them on my trunk in my room. When I came home I would give her an insufficient thank you in a language I wish I knew better.

            At my new house it couldn’t be more different. I didn’t know what to expect the first time. I told my sister I had to do laundry. She said ok. So I said… uh… where? And with what bucket? So she showed me the laundry spot, and showed me some buckets and started to walk away. I was like WAIT! Which buckets are for laundry and which are for dishes? She replied with “whatever” and left me to my washing. I had all the privacy in the world to scrub my underwear! After a week or two of me being there, I was washing my clothes and my sister passed me as I was scrubbing the collar of a collared shirt. She said “Oh! You know how to do laundry!” Interesting.. if you weren’t sure I knew how, why did you leave me to my own?? Haha. Anyways, so that first time she also gave me a bunch of hangers. We hang our clothes on our upstairs porch where rain can’t get to them (unless it’s a monsoon!). Sometimes I forget the next day that my clothes are there. So there my clothes will stay for 2 or 3 days til I realize I don’t have any clean pants left. This doesn’t make my new sister any less helpful. She just respects my stuff, which is nice. Besides, when I forget my clothes, they’re usually kept company by a bunch of clothes that my sister forgot were still hanging too haha. She’s actually worse than me!

Well, enough about laundry. Who woulda thought I could write a full 2 pages, single space in Word about laundry.

            I started my first secondary project today! I’m teaching a beginning English class for adults. Right now, it’s just 5 people: my brother, sister, my other sister, my sister next door, and my brother next door. Sorry if that’s confusing- everybody is your brother and sister in Cambodia. More are supposed to come though I think. People have asked if they can pay me. Of course they can’t. But my brother told them that I will accept payment in cans of Coke. That’s the most brilliant thing I have heard in Cambodia yet. I’m gonna have so many cokes. I need them!

            So today was our first lesson. My brother bought a decent sized white board for me to use, so we set it up on a table under the house. The whole thing was a ton of fun. My students were all my best friends and family here. They were so cute with their little notebooks and pens! We started out with writing the capital letters. I joked that this was a test and made them all write it down in their notebooks. By the end of the lesson, we had accomplished Hello, how are you, fine, good, thank you, and you?, what is your name? my name is…. Not too bad for only an hour!

            Now I’m sitting here in my room, and I can occasionally hear my family practicing with each other in the other rooms. It’s adorable. I’m so proud! I’m gonna teach them twice a week for an hour for as long as they remain interested. I’m looking forward to Thursday’s lesson.

These are the last batch of pictures from training. Another way to say that is: these are the last batch of pictures with my old camera- before my mother dropped it in the fish soup at dinner.

1. I love this picture of my brother Jimmy. He's so silly. We all laughed so hard when we saw this picture.

2. My siblings hate this picture because it is red. I love this picture because it is red.

3 and 4. I. Love. This. Dog.

5. The whole beautiful family (minus my older brother who lives in Phnom Penh).

6. My camera's final moments.