in the final four days: lessons learned, part c [part the final]

Once again, as with reflections about Cambodia after one year living here, my fellow RPCV, technical trainer, and friend Katie has perhaps more accurately summed up why I am consistently returning to this small space of my world wide web with varied attempts to dig deeper and produce something worthy of truly capturing Cambodia. 

Frankly, there is no way to accurately capture these two years.  To attempt to do so, nicely, tied with a bow, is an exercise in futility and reduction and triviality.  What appears to be an 'experience' to an outsider actually is life.  My life, for the truncated time of two years.  The lives of my community- my Khmer family, my fellow teacher trainers, my friends in Takeo town who greeted me warmly, day in and day out.  To begin to summarize all that this life has been for the last two years would be, as Katie says in her post linked above (please go read it!), trite and self-indulgent at best.  Because I can't speak for my community, because I can't open my head and pour the past two years of my life into a running slideshow for you (but oh how I wish I could, even though even that would do nothing to capture the beauty in everyday moments), I can only scratch the surface of what I really want you to know.

What I really want you to know is that my community, my family, are endlessly patient, unfailingly open to laughter and new experiences and people, and quick to help anyone who shows them the small courtesy of getting to know them.  What I really want you to know is that there is also so much more than the surface level smiles that the incessant tourists comment on when traveling through Cambodia.  That the smiles are indicative of Cambodians' openness and friendliness.  But also that distrust runs deep through my community and the communities of Cambodia and it is a long road, with varied potholes and boulders that prevent many from gaining a true understanding of this country, these people, my second home.

What I really want you to know that is just as we live life in America and throw out the cheap cliches - 'it's not about the end, it's about the journey' and all of those other ones that speak to finding happiness in the small moments of life, with those you love - this too is just how we live life in Cambodia.  It's no 'simpler' despite the lack of infrastructure or underdeveloped educational systems.  Life, as always, moves along, complex, full of double meanings and grey areas and people with good intentions and humans who err.  Emotions run high, until they don't.  People go to work to make a living and there are the lucky ones who truly love what they do.  Families are created and children are raised, and expectations are set upon the shoulders of children and they meet them, or they don't.  People live and die.  People mourn.  People celebrate new beginnings and happy endings.  People live.

After reconciling that I could probably never actually give you the 'summary' I long to, I am left with the reductive and self-absorbed navel gazing that are my 'reflection' posts.

I am inspired by my other dear friend and fellow RPCV Christine's post.  She landed in America, alongside Topher, two months ago.  Her line about trying to find balance between who she was before she lived in Cambodia and who she had to become while here, and who she is now upon return struck a chord with me.  How often in life do we have the true, marked 'end' of a portion of our life, to be indulgent enough to sit back and consider how we've learned and grown?  I got halfway there last month, but there's more.

I will indulge, if only in an effort to write down now the changes I like, that I don't want to let slip by too quickly upon re-integration into America.

Who I am, what I know how to do, what I want to become is not a stagnant thing.  I am constantly learning, changing and growing, as is everyone around me.  This is a good thing.

Be inquisitive by watching, learning, listening.  Remember the value and art of observing to understand and the art of silence.  I don't always need to have a response, an answer, or a comment.  It's often better to listen and let my listening be my contribution

Relax and breathe and trust.

Professionally, strive to be better- still action and solutions oriented, but with the balance of true reflection and opening to a wide variety of ideas and solutions. Personally, strive to be a better friend, wife, family member.  Slower to anger, quicker to smile or laugh.  Remember what I know about myself now: what I need when I'm sad, or angry, and how to work to make myself smile again; how to be more supportive of my husband and loved ones.  Continue to practice (and practice and practice) the art of steering the conversation away from myself.  I still suffer from selfish tendencies daily, but I am more aware of it and I am actively seeking to change it.  

I don't have to know everything, or be the best at something.  I can simply strive to do well, be a constant learner and do something that I passionately love. I think happiness and success will follow.

s is for september....s is for selfie?!

It has been officially decided that upon my return to the U.S. (which is quite imminent, dear friends), I will slide seamlessly into instagram culture, as I have quite mastered the selfie.  My fellow technical trainer agrees, and she would know, as she has witnessed quite a few of my selfie pics these past eight weeks, and has happily not let it affect her opinion of me, as it would far too easy to do, given that selfie-picture-taking-skills are not exactly something of which to be proud.

In other news, happy September! Did you remember to say 'rabbit, rabbit' right when you woke up this morning? No, me neither.  September is my third favorite month (right after May, which is right after October.)  September is the best beginning of the wonderful season called AUTUMN! FALL!  Even, LEAF-TREE-DROP in direct Khmer to English translation!

So, the training for the new group of Peace Corps Cambodia trainees has nearly come to an end.  My direct involvement, as the new group of education trainees' trainer, ended last Friday and I am wrapped up in all sorts of bittersweet emotions.  The new group here in the 'bode are really fantastic- I've said it before but it's honestly just so damn true.  It was quite a privilege to train them, witness and play a part in their growth as an educator and development worker, and prepare them for life as a PCV.  I am pretty excited to hear about the good work they do in their communities because I know they are equipped with the invaluable tools of patience, humility, humor and graciousness.  You so got this, K7s!

Yesterday, I left Takeo, my home for the last two years, for the final time.  In the end, I had what felt like two goodbyes with my community- one with Chris and one by my lonesome.  Neither was easier than the other, and both filled my heart with such happiness that it literally made my chest ache.  The second time was full of more beauty perhaps, because now that I can ride a moto, I was taken on two outings to observe the natural landscape of my community.  It was such a high to take in the lake in our town, with lily pads sprouting through to the surface and the rays of sun reflecting off the water, without having to peddle my bike or sweat or do anything except look, and look and look some more.

I'm currently in Phnom Penh through Friday, when I will welcome the K7s I've trained to the PCV Cambodia club alongside other staff members before jumping on my 28 hour journey to that sweet land called home.  I'm reveling in lots of fantastic coffee, cheap massages and little bits of final projects for work before I go home.

Home.  That place I am lucky enough to both be leaving from and arriving in this coming weekend.

lessons learned, [part b]

Months ago, I began reflecting.  I shared the first part of my reflections, mostly around living in Cambodia and working as a Peace Corps Volunteer.  This time around, I've written what I feel like I learned about myself these last few years.  I read somewhere, a long time ago, that your brain reaches its adult development actually-developed-stage somewhere around 28.  Which, funnily enough, is just where I am.  So maybe I'm actually at a point where I can process and internalize all the learning and growing I've supposedly been engaged in?  Maybe.  But this is my current best attempt.  As I've learned, I still learn every single day.

....

And then there's what I know about myself, because of the time I've spent in Cambodia. Namely, humility is where it begins and ends. True humility- being humble in the face of adversity, of frustration, anger, miscommunication, misunderstanding, embarrassment- is really, incredibly difficult. It can be painful and disheartening.

Human truth: I have a small amount of knowledge and often, I'm guessing-and-testing what I'm doing the majority of the time. I have a small set of skills in a small set of areas. What I know compared to what I don't is a semi colon compared an entire novel.

[what I know : what I don't :: 1 semi-colon : 300 page novel]

Coupled with humility is patience.

Both I learned to a great extent as a PCV. Everything- EVERYTHING- takes time. Patience is practically a pre-requisitive to living. Patience in people, projects, myself. Patience to allow others to think, respond, change, grow.  Patience to give myself room to develop, learn, adjust and create.

Patience.

Also, turns out, I'm an incredibly passionate person (ha! for those who know me.) With that characteristic, sometimes my emotions are too quickly expressed, too easily seen. Living within a culture in Cambodia where it is best to not reveal one's feelings so readily or quickly, I learned (or, I've begun learning how) to control my reactions, responses and feelings. I'm not perfect, but I'm more likely to withhold my immediate emotion and let myself get more information before I make a permanent decision on my reaction. 

Life is, honestly, 80% reaction.  And I actually have complete control over that eighty percent.  Which is the majority of my life, in fact. 

Finally, communication is not the art of convincing others: it's sharing, listening, disagreeing, learning and sometimes it's complete silence.  Communication does not mean being heard; it means hearing.  And damn it, but that shit is hard.

...

Of course, there is also the lighter side of it: what my PCV peers feel like they 'learned about me' while working alongside me in Cambodia.  And perhaps it should offer me some greater insight into how I'm perceived and continually remind me that I ought to try a bit harder for that humility thing (erm, people thinking I am consistently judging people/events is probably not the best way to exhibit or grow my ability to be humble.)  But these assessments of me also make me smile, which is a worthwhile thing.  So...there's that.

And here's this:

I am, apparently...

Most likely to be thinking how she could have better organized this event

Most likely to be baking

Smartest

Most Professional

Most Evocative of Hermione Granger


and really it's that last one that, if I could really embody smart, brave, loyal Hermione, life would be all good.

What have you learned about yourself recently?

spaces, recently

I've always been more of words-person: pictures are great and all, but it's doodles of words that I'd use during school.  But I think visuals are helpful here as I try to think about what the last five weeks have been and looked like.

I must say: the new group of trainees are not only fantastic, but they are getting it good with their training digs.  Air conditioning and comfortable seats? Best location for weekly 'hubsite' days EVER.

Sweet!

Swapping training ideas and daily occurrences has been a pleasure with this woman:

And leading training sessions in this swag of a place has been, honestly, amazing.

Those chairs are usually arranged in a much more conducive-to-discussion manner, and these fancy seats pictured below are not usually present when I'm up there, pacing and talking.

In an effort to provide some color in the very bright and somewhat sterile place, I've gotten in touch with my teacherly-poster-making roots and created some super fancy (ha) reminders of why we're (me and my beautiful trainees) there everyday:

the goals and core expectations of Peace Corps Volunteers:

My own goals for their technical training:

Mix those in with some basic reminder posters of the topics we've covered, and these guys:

And you've got yourself a pretty fancy training space.

And each evening, I head home, weary of talking but invigorated by my trainees, to this place:

'home'

Yes, that is NCIS on, and how did I never realize how ridiculously engrossing those weird cop-law-justice shows are?

Also, a pretty sweet purple bathroom, yo:

And these two spaces have been the entirety of life here for this woman.

the abandoned _________

Despite life moving at a rapid pace the last three weeks, there still seems to be an alarming lack of things to report.

In fact, everything settled into such a rhythm that I eventually took my camera out of my bag and realized: what would I be taking a picture of?  And of course, as I write this, I am wishing I'd had the foresight to take a picture of the two rooms that have been my life the last two weeks: my training space where I lead about seven hours of sessions each day with 29 fresh (and pretty fantastic) new trainees and my hotel room where I eat, sleep and plan said sessions.

But good things that I didn't yet share? That guy up there got home, safe and sound.  And he's been having a grand time, though he kindly doesn't regale me too much with many stories of the awesomeness of the U.S.  Funnily, Topher did take a trip to visit my parents and our dog, while I watched from afar.  As strange as it was to have my husband with my parents without me there, I think everyone had a great time, dog included.  I am already looking forward to visiting them myself when I return next month, and bringing the el puppito back home with me. 

I have learned that a rice cooker is quite multi-purpose and can serve as a great tool for boiling water for pasta and that cheese and crackers is a more than an acceptable meal for a grown woman.  I mean, if that said woman is me, of course, and Topher isn't around to chastise me.  I have also learned that I and my fellow short-term-contracted-staff-member drink FAR too much Coca-cola and neither of us harbor any qualms at doing so.  We're not proud, of course; it's a simple, straight forward fact that we both require approximately two cans of the sweet, dark liquid to operate properly each day.

And that about sums it up.  Mix in a good bit of Law and Order: SVU and/or NCIS each evening as I plan (HBO magically disappeared from the hotel channel list) and a strict avoidance of the 'what job should I be searching for?' question, and you've got yourself the last few weeks of this gal's life.

But what I really need to know is:

What should I really be looking forward to about America in five weeks?


And,

go!

july

It's July.

JOOOOOO LYYEEEEEEEEEE.

That's how I've been saying it my head all week long.  Slowly and methodically and disbelievingly.

A lot has happened in July thus far. So much that I haven't really taken a moment to fully process it, and thusly, write about it here.

So let's recap:

We visited Angkor Wat one final time.  I got so many braided string bracelets, I feel like I've got good luck and health going for me forever.  Which I'm so celebrating and counting on!


We left our provincial site in Takeo.  We said goodbye to our family.

We ended our time as Volunteers and officially became Returned Peace Corps Volunteers.


This ending involved a lot - too many- goodbyes with fabulous people, including these women:

This guy had to go home, without me.


I may or may not have hurt my toe somewhat badly.

I have, and continue to, work endless hours preparing session plans for the incoming group of Volunteers.   There are no fun pictures, because it's me, at a computer, typing and occasionally staring as I think something through.  Maybe it's a lot of staring? I can't really tell.  (I talked about what I'm doing in Cambodia while Topher is home here.)

And I've been working alongside this awesome woman, who is managing the health education program side of training for the new group.  (Cambodia has two main programs- English Teaching/Teacher Training and Community Health Education.)

It still doesn't seem like 2013 could actually be half over, but I guess I have to believe the tick of time.

How has your July been thus far, world?

all the emotions

Life since last Monday has been an intense whirlwind.

From cleaning our entire house and finishing packing all on Monday, saying goodbye to our final (for now, from me), to then diving headfirst into all the beginnings of my new position and just beginning to resurface to prepare to say goodbye to Topher, I'm FEELING ALL THE FEELINGS.

Feeling them all so much that I'm really not even in a place to begin to process which ones I'm feeling at which moments, and I'm not really at all emotionally prepared to bid farewell to my husband and a large portion of the Volunteer friends I've made this upcoming Wednesday.

Tonight, as I vigorously typed away on a tab in my excel planning document, my host mom called. 

Just to say hello, ya know?  Catch up.  Ask me if Chris would be returning to Takeo before he headed home.  Ask if I was too busy or taking time to rest.

Tuesday, our final day at site as Volunteers, was more than I imagined.  Hilarious, loving, and bitterly, sweetly sad.  I wish there was a better way to explain how it manifested than to say 'everyone was crying as we climbed into our taxi' but that's the simple reality of the situation.


Less than a week after pulling away, and I'm already looking forward to returning during some downtime on Sunday evenings to visit my Khmer family.

A family meal is a family meal is a family meal.

Family portrait time.  Happier than we look, I swear.

The last meal of delicious fried pork ribs, large ant and larvae, small fried fish, and yummy soup made with chicken we had leftover from a grocery purchase in Phnom Penh.

I will forever be trying to make those kids laugh.

lessons learned [part a]

This post has been sitting in my drafts for three months (give or take, given that the first paragraph initially read 'less than four months left in my service'), and I can't figure out if that's because it felt inauthentic to write about this topic when I still had a good deal of time left in my town, or if it was because I simply got exhausted, mentally and emotionally, when trying to gather all of these thoughts together.  Either way, here it is now.  A collection of things I think, of things I think I learned, and things I still don't know about Cambodia.  The other half soon, about things I think I know about myself, now.

Given that I have about one month left in my service as a Peace Corps Volunteer, I have begun the intense process that is internal reflection. The other day I actually jotted down a list of things that I felt I've learned about Cambodia and about myself since being here. It is so cliche but I feel like, at this point, I know more about myself than I do about anything else; that the more I've learned about my community, about Cambodia, the less I actually know.

The more information I process, the more confused I become. But here's part of what I know. For certain.

Or, at least, for now.

ONE.
Every single Peace Corps Volunteer's experience is uniquely and utterly theirs. This applies, I'd imagine, to my experience in Southeast Asia, as compared to someone's in Western Africa or Central America. But it even applies to my experience in southeastern Cambodia as compared to someone's in northwestern Cambodia- or heck, even my husband's nearly exact-same-logistical experience in the very same community. These differences make my experience no less valid or important or worthy. Even when I think about the previous Volunteer who taught at 'my' Regional Teacher Training Center (RTTC), lived in 'my' house and I get a bit down about projects he completed or people he worked with, that I meet and tell me all about how much they love him- I remind myself that it's actually better that I have branched out to different people, organizations, projects. If every PCV who went to a replacement site worked with the same people, tackled the same issues, progress would be stagnant. Who's to say that the next PCV at 'his/her RTTC' in 'his/her site' won't meet one of my trainees or students who came to my Camp GLOW and regale them with the things they learned from me, the broadened worldview they gained because of our interaction?

TWO.
Building real, deep relationships are tough. Because of language and cultural barriers, but also, somewhat, because of the inherent time limit of our work. Everyone knows we're here for two years. Then we go home. A co-teacher, when I first met him, remarked how I'd just be gone in two years. And he's right- it can be challenging to get someone who has seen two previous Volunteers come and go at their school to trust you and attempt to build a lasting relationship when you're just going to leave in a short period.  You can't expect to walk in anywhere with instant credibility and authentic relationships.  Often, the deepest and most fruitful relationships have only seemed to blossom in the last month or two here.

THREE.
Sometimes, as a foreigner working inside what I believe to be a struggling education system, I feel ineffective. Sometimes I feel like a prop- that me being inside the classroom could be viewed as belief that the existing system/curriculum/expectation levels are all correct. Sometimes I worry that my efforts are not viewed as I view them- new ideas and techniques that will better the current methods, that will lead to increased learning and thinking- but as fun but unrealistic techniques that the silly foreigner brought for a few years and then left so that the current methods could be continued as they have for good number of years.

FOUR.
All that being said, I've met enough intelligent, inquisitive, open-minded, strong-willed young people that I have no doubt- no doubt- that real change is imminent in Cambodia. That in a number of years I am going to return here and have no idea where the Cambodia I know has gone- and those changes will all be for the better as power shifts and is passed to the next generation of leaders.

FIVE.
Most importantly perhaps, I've learned that the struggles that Khmer people face are universal struggles. That the sixteen year old girl who drops out of school because it's necessary for her to start trekking to the nearby garment factory to bring in income for her family is not unlike the sixteen year old in America who drops out of school because her mom, who works the night shift at the grocery store, can't provide the transportation or money for transport to get the girl to her high school across town every morning. And that if we're still figuring out how to educate that student in America, there's no reason why I should expect that another country should have it all figured out by now. Progress takes time.

SIX.
And I'm increasingly devastated to be leaving Cambodia.  Especially when I spent a very short time working with a counterpart whom I feel truly could be a friend and colleague, with whom I could see us truly making an extensive difference as co-teachers. Just the impact we had in the short month we taught together has lifted my spirits and beliefs so high that I get deeply sad when I consider leaving.  It's devastating because what they told us when we first got here- that we'll do our best service at the end- is one thousand percent true.  My language is at it's highest (and I am on the current ebb of desiring to learn even more new words! just squeeze one more in!), my relationships have reached a place of mutual comfort and cooperation, and I only hate the heat slightly more than when I first came here.

SEVEN.
Cambodia changed me indelibly.  This country, these people, gave me more than I could ever dream of giving to it and them.

reflection, transition: everyday counts, especially these next 37

This week has been a slight up and down of me cursing with stress from the upcoming Camp GLOW (our province's second annual! Thank you to any and all reading this that donated!), and deep breathing through the happiness that is pouring through me as I reap the benefits of two years of relationship building with the unfailingly kind people around me.

Currently, I've pulled myself out of that stressed out place to write this post.  I needed to pause and remind myself of all the good that has happened even in the last few days, and that everything will come together. It always does.

This week has been the absolute ultimate for me.  There is no other descriptive word for it.

At our Close of Service conference, our Country Director (CD) reminded us not only about how far we've come, what we've done, what we've come to mean to our communities (all good things), but also how far we still have to go.  Something our CD has been saying a lot lately is to remember that every single day here is an opportunity to make a difference.  To which I add, every single day is an opportunity to engage in something small (or large) that leaves me with a smile on a my face, and smiles and laughter from others in my wake as I bike away.

Sometimes the hardest thing about being in the Peace Corps is getting wrapped up too far inside your own head, too far inside the introverted side of yourself.  Questioning so much of the whys, the hows, the what-fors.  Sometimes, when you know your primary assignment won't happen that day (in my case, when school is cancelled, or closed for a holiday), the hardest thing in the world is opening that door and entering it all.  Entering Cambodia, entering the heat, entering an entirely new culture.

But I am constantly reminded that when I do open the door (let's say literally and figuratively here, and cover all the bases), my efforts are rebounded upon me double fold in the kindess, generosity, humor and new people, words and experiences.  Unfailingly, I am left feeling ten times better than I did when sitting in by the fan in my little home.  Unfailingly, I am also sweaty and shaking my head from some potentially brash (and honest) comments made to me or about me, but I am absolutely, without a doubt, happier.

This week, I made it my priority to create for myself a very full, and thus fulfilling, schedule for my final five weeks at site (that is entirely insane to seen written out.)  I am with my students in the morning, with time for a stopover at one of my two breakfast stalls before class, and one after, and running errands for Camp GLOW or spending time with students at my library in the afternoon.

Adding to this, Topher and I have decided to take pictures and distribute them in frames with kind words to many of the people who mean so much to us here- our family, the men and women whose places of business we frequent, the students who have been with us every single week from the very beginning.  And it's exhausting, yes, but dear lord, it's also my favorite thing about the end of all this. Finding some small way to thank the community, our community.

And every evening, I am riding that roller coaster of stress and joy because this job is not done, and I feel the ever creeping weight of our final days here approaching, and I'm not ready, and I am, and in the end, every single day is another opportunity.

To learn from, and with, these hard-working, compassionate friends of ours.

reflection, transition: two words

This past week was a period of gathering, celebrating, reflecting, planning, laughing, lamenting, and committing.  That's at least how I'd summarize the Close of Service (COS) Conference experienced by the K5 - the fifth (my) - group of Peace Corps Volunteers in Cambodia.

I've always enjoyed reflection.  Even 'forced' reflection, as friend hilariously referred to much of the conference.  I found it inspiring to take the time to sit with some of my fellow Volunteers and just talk about what the last two years has been about.

At one point, we were asked to write two words to summarize our service.

We wrote these words on index cards and taped them to the wall of the meeting room.  Walking around the room, I read words like 'relationships' and 'rice' and 'independence' and a variety of more negative, less actually reflective words.

I chose to view the exercise through the lens of what I'd gained these last two years.  It could have gone many ways- what did I share with my community, what legacy I'd hoping to leave behind- but I chose to ask myself:

What did Cambodia give me?

And it was clear to me.  It can be summarized as an appreciation.  An appreciation for people, experiences, places. Life.  And a recognition of how far I still would like to grow as a woman, as an educator, as a learner, as a human.  An appreciation for all that I have, and all that I still hope to grow in.  Namely:

...
Self-awareness.  
...
Humility.
...

If you'd asked me two years ago, I'd have said that I definitely had a great degree of self-awareness, and a level of humility I'd have found commendable.

Which is essentially the essence of the problem, no?

True self-awareness, I've learned, is knowing you are constantly changing, growing, learning.  Self-awareness is an acceptance of evolving and an absence of guilt and self-blame.

True humility, I think, is knowing you are always lifting yourself up with a little bit (or a lot) of pride.  Humility is an acceptance that being humble is a daily challenge and a daily willingness to say to yourself "I know a little bit. Other people know more about this (place, experience, person, thing, etc), and I will know even more when I seek out others, when I value their opinion, experiences, knowledge, and voice.  This [blank] will be better with the contribution of others.  I will be better with the contribution of others."

I'd argue I both needed self-awareness and humility for the last two years and gained a greater understanding of what having both really is.

{Which is to say, I have no idea. But I'm trying to learn, slowly but surely.}

to scott, on the occasion of your college graduation.

When I was graduating from high school ten years ago, there was a really popular "song" that people loved to play to mark the passing of time and hopes for lessons learned upon a graduation. Maybe you cool kids still utilize this song to herald your "future"; maybe not.  It was already four years old by the time I graduated, but I still listened in earnest every time it played.

The song was Baz Luhrmann's "Everybody's Free (to Wear Sunscreen.)"  You know Baz, right? He directed the movie that began Leonardo DiCaprio's heart-throb status, Romeo and Juliet? And Moulin Rouge? And has directed the the soon to open remake of the Great Gatsby? You know him.  And - first piece of life advice here - you're going to go see Great Gatsby when it opens. Why? Because it's a defining piece of literature and Baz is a musical/imagery genius and it's going to be a movie that will forever remind you of your launch into the real world, and will be the best cautionary tale of what could happen if you invest too much time and money into the false reality of the perfect life, the American dream, and all that jazz (1920's reference, there, my brother.)


Is it too cliche to say that I cannot believe that today you graduate from college? Yes, probably, but I've said it.

I haven't got too much time on you- I only got that undergraduate degree a mere six years ago. But damn, have those been a six years full of growth and change.  So, dear little brother from another mother, here is my simple offering to you.  In hope that six years from now, you will feel that who you were at 22, at this graduation, was just the beginning of all that is amazing in life.

Because it is. I promise, it really, really is.

So here goes.

You're going to fuck up.  With your family, with your friends, at work.  Try not to do it too many times.  When you do, own it, learn from it, and move on.  And then remind me of this too.

Write things down. Take pictures.  You're going to forget a lot of the your twenties, but you can forget less of it if you take the time to remember it, to savor it, to pause in the moment and capture it.

Your first job, that job your going to grad school for, doesn't have be the end-all-be-all job.  I mean, give it your all, work your ass off, be the best you can at it.  But if, in ten years, you want to move on and do something different, feel no regret.  Take your lessons and growth from it, and take the next great leap.  Or if, in ten years, you are so content that you can't imagine doing anything else, take a moment and thank your lucky stars that you found that fulfilling thing so early in life.  And keep rocking it.

Speaking of work, don't be your job.  Don't give in to that hype that you have to work seventy hours a week to be worthwhile.  Work smart, not hard.  Manage your time and develop boundaries between work and life.  Keep aspects of your life sacred, protect them, and don't compromise them.  You will always be better at your job when you have the time to be you with those you love outside of working hours.

Be curious.  Don't let your reading to learn stop now.  It doesn't have to be academic, but keep learning, something, anything. 

Every once in a while, pause to consider how you've grown and changed.  I'd liken growing up through my twenties to the slow but progressive change in one's eyesight.  Every once in a while, you have to stop and adjust the prescription- some things are clearer and some aspects are more difficult to see.  You can't ignore it, and if you try, you're in for massive headaches, needlessly. 

Be honest with yourself and note the awesome ways you've changed.  Consider the small things you still think you could improve and commit to trying.  And then, move on.

And when you do change, don't be surprised or angry if people or things seem different.  The best things, the right people, will change and grow alongside you. Not necessarily in the same ways, but hopefully, in complementary ways.  In ways that allow you to flex and bend, and them to bend and flex.  Hopefully, you'll both in ways that allow you to still see and understand one another. 

You don't have to always agree, but you have to agree to listen to, and hear, each other.  If you can do that, everything else falls in to place.

You're not too old for that thing you're afraid you're too old for.

And there isn't ever really a good time to do the things you don't want to do, or the things you really want to do.  So, you just gotta do them, and hope to hell those who love you will understand. (Which they will, even if they kinda hate it at first. Promise.)

Oh, and as Baz says, wear sunscreen.

a questionnaire

 While in Bangkok, I spent some free time following the spiral through the interwebs until I happened upon dozens of videos from the Bravo show, Inside the Actor's Studio.

It was as fantastic as you think it was.

After watching a handful of episodes (and oh my gosh, there is an episode with Bradley Cooper and it is so emotional, because the guy just graduated from the school which houses the show, and it was just so dang sweet to see him and James Lipton, who conducts the interviews, to just lose it throughout the show because of how in awe they both were that he was there, and the whole point of the school, and show, had come true.  (And, thought inside a thought, how freaking GOOD was Bradley in the Silver Linings Playbook?! I was blown away! Homeboy totally deserved the Oscar, for shame!)), I got caught up in the questionnaire that Mr. Lipton asks his guests at the end of each interview.  You can read the info in the link above, but it is based on a French show, which is based on an old, old questionnaire.

So I've decided, signed and stamped the decree, that each year, I'll subject Topher and myself to this interview.  See how it all changes, as we do.

So let's begin.

First up, Chris.

It was fun to do this with Topher because of how challenging he found all of these questions.  I even had time to pee before he gave him the answer for the first- FIRST- question.

Regarding number three's answer (genuine humility), it was such a great moment when he said that, for me, as his wife.  Humility is probably the characteristic that I strive to be, that I focus on, more than any other, every day.  Mainly because, frankly, it does not come easily to me.  But I truly believe it to be the cornerstone to everything we do in life, if we wish to do it well, and with others.  His answer was a great reminder, to me, to strive for humility not only because of its value to me, but to my husband as well.

Next up, yours truly.

I took a bit more lighthearted spin to my answers. But they are truthful, nonetheless.

 Ok, so let's just begin with this.  I just love saying Kilimanjaro. It just rolls off the ton so nicely, doesn't it?  And I hate the long version of the word hippo because I really, truly, struggle to say it correctly the first time.  I have to concentrate for a hot minute to get my tongue to wrap itself around overlapping 'p' and 't' sounds.

It's highly embarrassing.

And, for me, number six and nine go hand in hand because I simply cannot stand seeing an animal in pain.  I could not handle dealing with sick or injured pet's day after day, which is why I could never be vet.  Such huge kudos to those who do this- you are my hero.

And finally, regarding number ten, I'd like to believe that at the pearly gates, the most important thing that's going to matter to the entity that created me/looked out for me/guided me/whatever is whether or not I was a kind, compassionate, helpful, just, loving, hardworking person.  And I'm going to stick with that.

Finally, it was rather challenging for me to answer the questions until I first separated out my answers for my current life here in Cambodia.  There are so many things that I love, and that drive me nuts, here.  And so, this:

Barang is probably my least favorite word because it is yelled to me, said about me, inferred about me before knowing, and in general, the bane of every foreigner living in Cambodia's existence.  And I just feel defeated trying to refute it, or open people's minds that being lumped into a mass group of 'other' simply because I'm not from Cambodia is exhausting and frustrating. Le sigh.

Lastly, I'd love and be terrified of being a journalist here. I'd love to meet people from around the country, tell their story, question their leaders.  But there is also some danger in that too, as press isn't truly free here.  Which is all I can really say about that!

...........

What would be YOUR answers to the questionnaire? Offer them up in the comments!

so sayeth the girl with the lucky face

Last week, I flew to Bangkok.  It was a medical adventure, one in which I was told in no uncertain terms that if I needed serious, or extended medical attention, the rolling plains and majestic mountains of America would be graced with my presence much earlier than intended- essentially, I would have been medically separated and become a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer.

Luckily, thankfully, and all of the other adverbs that indicate how fortunate and grateful I am, it turns out I am basically fine.  There were a couple of touch and go hours, a very long four day wait for some test results, and then the best news possible, if not not-entirely conclusive news.

But all is well that ends well, and this all seems to have ended well.  I have some more serious reflections from the experience, but today, since it's Friday, let's focus on the fun and slightly more gratifying aspects of my recent endeavor, shall we?

The trip began with a nearly empty bus ride (see above picture.)  In the jittery evening before I left, I channeled my feelings of lack-of-control-ness into a desire to do something.  So I cut  myself some bangs.  And then I spent the bus ride trying not to worry about all the what-ifs of the upcoming hospital visit, and, as a study in narcissism, took a bunch of photos of myself.  But, mostly, I did this the whole ride:

But there were a lot of happy, hilarious and delicious things that happened while in Bangkok.  No matter how stress-inducing it all was, there are always a myriad of small little happenings that make life so grand, right?

To begin with, let's take the airline I was flown on.  Known as a boutique airline, it meant I got a full meal and, even better, free wine.  Some red wine was just what I needed on that flight!

I was also graced with a taxi driver who didn't use meter, got a bit lost, and then charged me far less than I had expected and wished me good luck at the hospital as he dropped me off.  So sweet.

And then I was greeted by this:

And there was a bathtub. A legit bathtub.  I took my first bath in nearly two years.

(Not my first bathe, people. I clean myself regularly.  Basically.)

Despite being there for other reasons, I found immense joy in my spacious room with industrial strength air conditioning, huge window and comfy bed.

One of my first days there, I was walking from my hotel to the hospital's food mezzanine across the street when I heard a man yell to me "Miss! Miss! You are very lucky, did you know that?"

When that happens, and you're a female, alone, I think it's a natural reaction to kind of lower your head and walk a bit faster.  But then I remembered I was surrounded by dozens of other people, and besides, he was saying something kind!

So I looked up (continuing to walk briskly, though, just in case), and replied "Me? No, I didn't know it! Thank you."

He then said "Yes, I can see it, in the aura around you.  Your face is very lucky, and I can see it.  You will have good luck this month."

Which is just so sweet, when you think about it.  Here I was all alone, a bit worried about medical type things, and a man just wants to tell me I've got good things coming.  He might be nuts, but, darn it, I'm choosing to believe him.  This is my month!

And it must have been luck, because not long after that, these were in my possession:

And while a good portion of the trip was a lesson in hurry-up-and-wait, I spent those waiting hours enjoying the natural light while inside somewhere with delicious air conditioning and yummy treats.

That would be a second caramel macchiato, this time with ice, and a blurry shot of my delicious pad thai.

There were long walks along bustling roads in Bangkok, a fantastic trip to a grocery store that could have easily been Safeway back home, baths galore, and kind people who recognized me after I tread the same path to my hotel, and food court, and back again for days in a row.

And on and on the sweet, small joys went until all was well, and I was inside this guy's taxi, heading to the airport to head home.



And he was the most hilarious taxi driver ever.  We were caught in some atrocious Bangkok traffic (I left ages before my flight just for this reason), and he would spend those long breaks with his seat lounging back.  When we'd get a path, he'd shoot up, and push that gas so fast we'd pulse forward with such rapidity of movement everything hanging from his rearview mirror would swing with such force I swear it was all about to take off and fly.

The best was when we came over a small hill so quickly that it knocked everything stashed in his visor over his head and trapped it all between his back and his seat.  He paused for a minute, we both laughed, and I fished the papers, CDs, and other items out as best as I could without actually inappropriately touching him.

And when I touched down in Cambodia, I had the most wonderful conversation with the man who drove me to my hotel in Phnom Penh, and I was reminded how far things come in a short time when we understood each other completely for the entire thirty minute conversation.

And my lucky face and I rest a bit easier, now.

Cheers, all! Happy May!