veni, vidi, vici

the last eight days were fantastic, gallivanting around cambodia with my favorites paige and michael (and topher, as always.)



there is so much to capture about this summer on this little blog, from the awesome beginning with a successful camp for girls, to my parents visit, to now, wrapping up the hazy days with our trip with paige and michael and the weeks spent working to help train the new teacher volunteers.

for now, suffice it to say that, cambodia has been seen, if not conquered.

also, i successfully gave up caffeine for fifteen days this month.  after five straight days of headaches, i realized-

it was probably a good thing i went without for a little while.

how was your week?

today!

 

today, this girl flies into the kingdom of wonder.

(that girl up there in the rodeo barrel with me.)

today, this girl is reunited with me, her bosom buddy, her friend soulmate, her we're-so-alike-sometimes-it's-a-bad-thing darling.

today, topher and i begin a very happy and very anticipated week of annual leave to show off our new home to a very wonderful pair of friends...

welcome, paige and michael! 

*not today you will someday hear of all the grand adventures this summer with my parents and my favorites paige and michael. not today, but soon.

**also, i'm aware that i look like i'm wearing nothing under that red hoodie up there. but it was a beige tank top? and it was, frankly, a bad decision.

a series of recent events.

i decorated my camelbak with fun stickers of animals! there's even a cute little owl and donkey.

i cleaned all the things! the whole house! all the laundry! i even organized our clothes.

i got a new purse made out of a fish feed bag from vietnam. it's yellow, so i pretty much love it.

i found the world's tiniest deodorant and jill, resident model, helped out.

chris and jill khmer-biked it, with chris carrying my purse.

chris and i've done a lot of eating at the manmade-reservior-side lately, enjoying corn on the cob, fruit smoothies and meat on a stick.

while we eat, we get to listen to macarena on repeat blasting from the nearby "fun park."

i knit while chris picks up our food.

we even had an indoor picnic recently.

what more could a girl ask for in life?

really, really important things that are now true.

over one year in cambodia and my talents have been developed in a variety of many important and serious ways.  

as in,

i can now bike successfully just using my right hand, whereas previously only my left hand could be utilized thus so.

i can now dismount my bike as it continues to roll forward, simultaneously braking to stop and removing my helmet in one smooth motion.

i can now tune my dreams to play against the backdrop of funeral and wedding music.

i can now tell you the precise moment during any given adventure that i have begun sweating.

i can now consider, without laughing or gagging, the thought of getting frisky with topher whilst sweating.

i can now pick out random words being spoken about me in a different language, even when i wish i couldn't.

i have now mastered the art of "listening" to my ipod when i really just have my earphones in my ears.

i can now use a toothpick "politely", behind my hand, after every single meal or like a "gangster," all hanging out of my mouth, dangling on my lips.

i can now throw trash, bones and unsavory food bits on the floor during a meal without even looking for a rubbish can.

i can now call trash "rubbish" without laughing.

i can now withstand being hot and hungry five minutes further than my previous record of thirty seconds.

i can now accurately predict if i will have a bowel movement because of a meal as said meal is set directly in front of me.

i can now write blog posts about diarrhea without concern of my interweb friends disowning me, as i now have zero amounts of propriety remaining herein.

and you?

dear growed-up me,

i have this terrible habit of wishing time to go faster, faster, faster.  of counting down, counting toward, counting away from something.

adult me, i took today to pause and write down all those things that i never want to wish away, those things that i'd bet for you, in the future, you're wishing you still had, you're wishing you could still know, now that you don't live in cambodia any longer.

because it was the same when i studied and lived in rome. rarely was i able to suspend the daily to appreciate the manna that is italy. that is cobblestone, that is early morning walks on those worn, wobbly stones, that is a piping hot, frothy cafe latte, that is a quick italian verb review while perched on a centuries-old curb, vespas and peugeots whizzing by, whipping my hair.  never would i have believed that soon, not but a few months later, i would ache in my stomach, in my limbs, in my soul, for the stench of rome.  of coffee beans, of piles of rubbish on street corners, of sizzling mozzarella and fresh basil, of rain pounding ruins older than God.

here and now, i want to remember. for you, for growed-up me, for a woman that i long to believe has moved past wishing for a future.

remember the grin that lights upon a face when you decide to smile at the stare, rather than scowl.

remember the rank corner of the market, flies glancing to and fro off the raw meat, vendors lazily waving a fan back and forth, to discourage the landing of their tiny feet, to encourage the buyers, hurriedly searching for the best cut, to take home and fry, sizzle, up for their family.

remember the sweet sound of rain, the release of the heat it brings, and the sigh of relief that accompanies it, from you and everyone around you.

remember the melting away of hours as you languidly read a book in the solid wooden chair with the red, polyester cushion that your host mother gave you after she saw your husband crouched in that same chair, mattress wrapped about him like a cocoon, attempting to stave off a sore ass stemming from hours on solid wood by a butt used to cozy sectionals and memory foam.

remember all the books, all the sentences, all the words that ate you up, gave you perspective, offered you insight, pushed away your boredom, added a small drop to that growing but yet shallow well of wisdom.

remember the cold, cold water taking your breath away each and every single instance of bathing, and the frigid joy that water brings as it sends shivers through your marrow and instantaneously lowers your internal temperature.

remember the sunset on the water, with a fruit smoothie in hand that's honestly half fresh fruit and half condensed milk and sugar syrup, while gazing at the crinkle around your husband's eyes as he laughs at one of those ridiculous comments you love to say and thinking to yourself, how is this is my life, and when was it deemed that i was worthy of such joy?

right now, i'm remembering it all, and i'm wishing on the present, and i'm counting all the moments wherein i alight upon this joy, this life.

here in the now,

cambodian you

me, in a nutshell.

“Reading is everything. Reading makes me feel like I’ve accomplished something, learned something, become a better person. Reading makes me smarter. Reading gives me something to talk about later on. Reading is the unbelievably healthy way my attention deficit disorder medicates itself. Reading is escape, and the opposite of escape; it’s a way to make contact with reality after a day of making things up, and it’s a way of making contact with someone else’s imagination after a day that’s all too real. Reading is grist. Reading is bliss.” — Nora Ephron

or, even more simply,

“I am simply a ‘book drunkard.’ Books have the same irresistible temptation for me that liquor has for its devotee. I cannot withstand them.” — L.M. Montgomery

alas,

“I cannot live without books.” — Thomas Jefferson

via 

less

i have lived the last year using, and rotating, the same thirteen pairs of underwear.

it has involved a lot of (hand)washing of those little undies, but, to be honest, i haven't noticed.

(beyond the holes and general stretched-out-ness those thirteen pairs now possess.)

but it did provide a physical manifestation of a through-necessity mantra that topher and i have been living by for the past 13 months:

less.

living on $1-$3 a day, rotating the same four skirts and seven shirts at work, and then the same ten tee shirts and three pairs of pants at home, while rocking the same dingy, hole-y thirteen undies has helped me see that in america, i sincerely lived on too much.  bought too many clothes.  ate too much food. spent too much money.

i'd like to maintain my mantra of less when we return next  year.  chris and i have already discussed how to set better boundaries for not going overboard- on eating, on spending, on living- when we come home.  we've both found that we enjoy making things work with less money, with less resources.  it's cliche to say it, but it helps us appreciate it all the more, ya know?

and this has to mean something coming from a girl who proudly owned over 400 pairs of underwear prior to this Cambodian adventure!

(let's be honest- i really miss my wide assortment of undies.  i've been saving ten pair for my second year and it feels.so.good to wear them for the first time.)

(also, i wish i cared less about the two grey hairs i found at my front hairline this morning. i'm not even yet 27, people. tell me i'm not alone.)

thoughts?

appearance

today i made a jaunty little quick trip to our market to pick up some quick snackies.

(pause to ensure understanding: our market = an open-to-the-elements deteriorating and hollowed out 1950s era French-colonial-inspired building, crammed full of small stands and stalls, selling everything from raw pork to delicious soup with noodles, from cooking oil to rice, and all things in between, with additional tarp and corrugated steel add-on stalls jutting from the back corner, where fruit, vegetables and fish are sold. side note being, the fact that we have an actual "building" exterior with which to house our little market? huge thing, people, huge.)

my favorite little snackies are these fried muffin-shaped items stuff full of a variety of starchy items i can't quite name. there are some beans for sure, and maybe some potato? and some sort of batter that holds it all together that creates for a crispy, chewy delight.

my "nom" lady ("noms" being any kind of food that had to be baked or fried or such- from french baguettes to tiny little savory doughnut things) sets up shop just inside the building, sitting on a little wooden stool, a big vat of frying oil bubbling hot, alternately filled with my little fried muffins ("nom juerng jruuk"), fried bananas, or other treats.  she knows me well.  as do her friends that have food stalls right next to her.  and today, as i purchased some of these yums for myself and a friend, we began the age old tradition of discussing the topic of choice that all khmer women love to discuss upon first meeting me:

appearance.

our brief but smiley conversation revolved around the women telling me how much they loved my nose and wish they had the same nose (it's always my nose. i can't explain it, but it's always.my.nose) because it's so beautiful.  

as the past year has slugged by, i've contemplated my deep abhorrence of all conversations revolved around appearance.  why must women always first find intimacy in complimenting or noting one another's appearance or dress?  why can't we begin with questions like:

have you read a good book lately?

how's your job going these days?

did you see or experience something new or awesome recently?

all would be exponentially better than:

did you lose weight? you look great!

did you get a new haircut? your bangs are beautiful!

what make-up do you use? your eyelashes are so long!

not that these aren't discussion points to be had, at some point, but why, oh why, must we lead with them? and why must this be a universal decision we women make?

today, after being told my nose was so beautiful, i fell into the trap myself, in an attempt to share my own insecurities, my own envy of their gorgeous faces, to build our connection as women. i told the woman i wish i had her nose, because i think mine is too long and hers is wonderful and short!  

oh no, she said, giggling and shaking her head (that universal sign of a woman refusing to acknowledge a compliment.)

and then i told them that women everywhere, in countries all over, are always wishing we could change parts of our faces, and even in america, we see other woman's noses and wish we could have their luck.

and as i biked away, all i could do was wonder:

how did my khmer get so good that i could express these thoughts out loud?

and 

why do we women, from cambodia to america, default to appearance and envy, as means of expressing interest in, or compliments to, one another?

i mean it!

i've recently come to the conclusion that when i say, "i mean it!" i really mean "i'm going to try really hard but i desperately lack willpower so this will probably all be over in a matter of days!" 

as in:

statement: "i'm going to give up coca cola! i mean it!"
translation: "i'm going to not drink coca cola anymore after i finish the four that are in the fridge and i'll do really well for two days, and then i'll remember how delicious it is and why else do i have coozies if not to put a coca cola in them, am i crazy? i mean it!"

or:

statement: "i'm going vegetarian! i mean it!"
translation: "i'm going to not eat meat for a whole four days and then get cranky and emotionally eat a wendy's cheeseburger and then give up meat again for another five days until we go to the renaissance festival and i have to eat a turkey leg and then i'll give up because who are we kidding anyways? i mean it!"

or this one:

statement: "i'm going on a cleanse with chris! salads and fruits and veggies, only! i mean it!"
translation: "but tonight i'm going to eat a whole can of crescent rolls in preparation for the cleanse, and then tomorrow night after i eat quinoa for the first time, i'm going to give up on the cleanse because who eats just that crap, am i crazy? i mean it!"

or maybe this one:

statement: "i'm going to become a runner again! i mean it!"
translation: "i'm going to write all of these running goals in my weekly planner and this will motivate me until i do it for a few days and then realize a month later that i've been not-so-discreetly crossing those previously written goals off every.single.day because who are we kidding anyways? i mean it!"


guys, i suck at willpower. i mean it.

and i've come to realize that this is probably something i need to remedy before we start the kids talk? but that also, this mostly only applies to comments made related to self-improvement? so, maybe i just need to stop setting self-improvement goals.

stop the goal setting! down with self-improvement pursuits! just be free and let yourself be!

oh, the sweet sounds of the anthem of apathy. 

cool

guys, i really did buy children's sized shirts and pair them with jean skirts, and carry around a toy walkie talkie.

lately, i've been considering what it might be like if i didn't cut my hair for the remainder of my time in cambodia (let these locks grow, motha sucka!)  we're looking at one year + left, which would be quite a hefty sum of months (can months be measured in terms of heftiness? let's say yes.)

is growing one's hair to one's butt still an in thing, or did that end when one left the 1980s and entered the modern era?

perhaps more importantly for you to please to be considering, is this:
was it ever an in thing, or is my warped growing-up-in-idaho vision ('tis a REAL thing, that vision; gives me headaches on the reg, it does!), striking me down again with memories of things that were "cool" for le idahoans but were "outdated" and "horrendous" for others? others, as in, those cool people who lived "back east" or "down in cali" and drank things like avocado shakes and ate sushi every morning on while zipping to work on their five-lane highways? perhaps most importantly is for you to please not tell me that it was in fact not cool to perm your bangs or wear maroon tinted glasses. and don't even get me started on sports goggles.  this homegirl knows that was never cool in the mainstream, but damn if i didn't rock those plastic spectacles as i frolicked on the soccer field.

original hipster sports goggles, one might even say. (and one does, it should be noted.)

speaking of things that were cool in idaho, you know how in napoleon dynamite nearly everyone is wearing clothes from the 70s and 80s, rocking those puffed sleeves, and jordache jeans, and prom dresses straight outta carrie?

we'll, i'd like to state for the record, that we did not dress like that in the cool part of idaho.

(please to be forgetting that napoleon dynamite was filmed less than 60 miles from my hometown. mmkay?)

ok, some idahoans did do dress like that. i mean, sleeves are routinely added to prom dresses and high schoolers do often shop at the local thrift store to build up their wardrobe.  but one was church-imposed modesty rules and the other because we thought it was cool? which it was cool, clearly, because i rocked the children's sports tees and did so with aplomb.

and, as we've previously established my cool factor (see above: sports goggles), you know you can trust me when i say, those size 10-12 and 14-16 tees were the bomb dot com. (bomb-diggity, you might say, if you wanna be cool like me?)

can we also discuss how cool-as-ice topher has become lately?  as in, he has somehow managed to absorb all of the things the cool kids are doing on the interwebs lately, wherein they type their physical movement to help us picture their response?  see, in short, this text of late from the hustophermachine:

evil glare. that was marked for rum. very happy you enjoye (sic) it.

humma humma wha?

by golly, next he'll be texting me:

side look. you know what i'm saying. winks.

because somehow in my imaginary text world he sends me suggestive texts? which has happened, like, never? but he does send me very sweet and sappy texts. i got a few of those this week. which totally made it all the better when i walked into the kitchen and...well, let me text-narrate it for you.

stops in tracks. why is the cabinet door open again? CHRIS WHY DO YOU KEEP LEAVING THE CABINET DOOR OPEN? stalks to the cabinet to close the door.

to which the response was:

pauses movie. i've only been in the kitchen once today! oh it was probably me. sheepish grin.

guys, i just can't take that sheepish grin, texted or otherwise.

he's just so cool.

by the by, we don't have a cabinet with doors? we have this built-in-the-wall shelving unit that has glass partitions and/or screened-sliding-shutters? and we call it a pantry? because we long for a small part of america?

and that's the end of this fantastic, important, dare i say, cool, blog post.

tell me how cool you were are.

overheard

this morning, as i lazily awakened myself from deep slumber, i could hear my host-niece and nephew playing outside my window.

"no, you do one, two, three, four, five, six!"

"no! you hit this and it goes left, one, two, three, four, five, six!"

"yayyyy!"

when i walked outside, we had a discussion about what they were counting, and hitting, and they explained a game they learned while they were visiting their cousins for the last two weeks.  it's quite complicated, involves a lot of counting steps and then smacking one yellow toy with another toy, but it's also, from what i can tell, the ultimate in fun. (as most things are when you're four?)

almost as fun as when topher and i came home last night, and the kids were on the balcony, and we hadn't seen them for two whole weeks, and all we heard was:

"aunt! uncle! we're home now!  we've come back from phnom penh!"

to which we said:

"oh, we are happy! we missed you very much!"

we were gifted their resounding cries of how much they missed us too, and how much fun they had riding in a taxi and going to a party, but they really missed us and they were so happy to be home.

and by the time we had gotten through the gate, our littlest niece had run down the stairs, right into my legs, to give chris and me the biggest hug of all time.

and it may have been all i could do to stop smiling as i fell asleep last night after this exchange, and it may have been difficult to contain my anticipation to spend a few minutes talking with them this morning, as soon as i heard them upon waking.

and it may be that some of my best conversations in this country happen with my host-nieces and nephew, and they happen entirely in khmer, and somehow there is complete and total understanding on both sides when we have these conversations?!

and it may be that this was a delightful weekend.

on aging, on getting older, on growing wiser, on feeling younger: on the pain of growth and change

i am no longer an assortment of things that i used to be.  i'm not a recent college graduate. i'm not a newlywed.  nor am i in my early twenties, or a novice blogger, or new to education and teaching.

i am not a new peace corps volunteer.

******

there's a weight that attends nearing 30.  not necessarily a negative weight, but a weight nonetheless.  the looming next steps on the game board of life- of parenthood, of forever home buying, of making the decision just exactly where will we celebrate christmas?- are ever present.  everything seems more real and less real, closer and farther away, more exciting and more daunting, more pressing and easier to push off to a later date.  closer than i want them to be, just out of reach when i want them in hand this moment.

*****

often when i speak about birthdays with volunteers of a similar age here, there's an airy sort of thought that our timeline has frozen back in america, that our life here is almost as a pause in a running video tape of our aging.  of course i will still be 25 when i return to america.  of course you will still be living here, working there, planning this, making decisions to do that.  of course we will pick up exactly where we left off, of course we'll be able fall right back in.  two years? it's nothing.

****

the april before i moved to cambodia, i was in new orleans.  i met my grandmother, the grandparent whom i am closest to, for lunch, as we knew it may be one of the last times we'd see each other before i moved away for two years.  my aunt accompanied her, and we had delicious shrimp po' boys. we discussed the upcoming excitement, how my grandmother would miss us at christmas, how i had to be sure to write her letters and send her postcards- she loves postcards.  we hugged, and parted, me excited to share my adventures with her, and her excited to hear them.

***

august of last year, three weeks into my peace corps service, my grandmother, the grandparent whom i am closest to, had a brain bleeding, most nearly a stroke.  in an evening, she lost memory of her last fifty years- her children, her grandchildren, her life.  

**

christmas of last year, i spoke to my grandmother, the grandparent whom i'm closest to, for the first time since april.  she wasn't sure where i was, i'm not sure she knew who i was.  questions were repeated, answers were repeated, tears were held back, memories were gone.

*

i'd like to believe there has been some wisdom gained in recent years.  a wisdom encompassing a greater understanding of myself, of who i am, of what i'd like to change to become who i want to be.  

a recognition of those things that i cannot change, moreover, an acceptance of the good within.   

on balance, an active pursuit to challenge myself to not accept that being stubborn, or a fast thinker, or ambitious, or an overanalyzer are the essence of me.  

that being thus so can be useful and worthwhile in small doses, but maybe, just maybe, sometimes it's better to

relent, 

listen, 

fade, 

let go.

to live here and now, 

to stop and gaze, 

to value the people and memories 

before age and time poof it all away and force you to

relent, 

listen, 

fade, 

let go.