on integration

As I wrap up my life here in Cambodia, I'm stumbling through my draft posts.  I found this one today, wherein I was going to continue my process of sharing my thoughts from the semi-annual report form I had to fill out as a Peace Corps Volunteer (the first part was here.)  So, I now present my thoughts on the all-important 'integration' component of life as a PCV, and my feelings (a few months ago) on how I integrated and what I learned along the way.  

**********

How integrated are you and what have you learned in the process of integrating into your community?

I am basing my integration level on my interactions at my school site, within my host family and my immediate commune. I make this distinction because I believe that integration at the provincial town level looks very different than that at the small district town/village level.

At my school, men who didn't seem to know how to approach me a year ago, seek me out to say hello, share a joke. I have ongoing funny jokes/stories with several teachers that are not my specific counterparts. They invite me to play chess or boll with them, even though I have no clue how and I'd be the only woman. When they do, I politely laugh, say I don't know how, and then stay to watch for twenty minutes, to express my appreciation that they even invited me.

I am an integrated part of my host family. My host mom calls me daughter, she looks after me, knows my teaching schedule. Our host nieces and nephew treat us like a part of the family- they annoy us, play with us, and give us adult space. We eat with our family, we celebrate birthdays together, we hear them yell and cry, and they hear us do the same. (Well, the kids yell and cry, and we groan about the heat. Same same, but different.)

In our immediate commune, we are known. We are no longer the random foreigners at our small market nearby- they know us, know our story as a married couple. When they found out we were going home in four months, there was genuine sadness, and excitement for our expressing our desire to return in five years. When we bike home after work, we are waved to not just by excited kids screaming hello, but by adults who know us too.
What I've learned, and I've said it before, is that language is the easiest and biggest thing a PCV can do to integrate. A simple conversation at the market, on the street corner, at school, goes a long way. It has helped me build a congenial relationship with the men at my school that I can't interact with outside of school (I wish to preserve my respect for the boundaries between men/women in Khmer society, and I do not wish to get drunk with these men in any case.)

My language learning has not progressed immensely, though this is mainly my fault. Because I can read fairly well, I relied on myself to learn from a dictionary, and I find this infinitely more challenging to find motivation to do. Also, because I possess the daily language needed for nearly everything I do, and the technical language to do my work as a trainer, I am not overly motivated to seek out even more learning. I do still have a language book with terms I still want to learn/double check, and this is a priority in my final months here.

Also, it's vital to step outside your bubble- your house, room, etc- every single day. Somehow. Even today, a Friday where I don't teach, when I have been cooped up inside working on a VRF [Volunteer Report Form] that won't save and I've had to re-write 3 times, I plan on going to the nearby park to walk for an hour with the women who exercise there each evening. That daily interaction will further my integration and help my mindset after a frustrating day.  In this sense, I've found that I feel most integrated on the days when I try, when I attempt to break outside my comfort zone. 

At the end of the day though, integration is living.  Making friends, finding regular sports to eat, play, work.  I've learned that integration is about opening your heart to the people around you, without judgment and with a smile and a 'yes' on your lips.

**********

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?

one wonder: the welcoming crew

These two little rascals, nearly every day without fail, welcoming us home from wherever we hail, morning, noon and night.

How they love to 'help us' with our bikes.  How, two years later, they are big enough to ride their own bikes, and sometimes even hitch a ride on the wire seats on ours as we slowly ride in each evening.

How their heads loved to pop up right at this window before lunch or dinner, usually while we worked on something computer related for Peace Corps, or a project, and would get our attention by just saying 'Aunt! Uncle!'

Their laughter and the hollers of 'Ma!' all the live long day.

Them.

**I've decided to capture, as it strikes my fancy, the small things about the Kingdom of Wonder (Cambodia) that I want to remember, that I love, that drive me crazy.  Mostly small vignettes, hopefully with a picture or two.  And all of them, my personal wonders from two wonderful years in the Kingdom of Cambodia.  This is the first.**

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.

sour sounds

"Lee-hoo-ah? Ok, L-Y-H-O-U-R."

"Sr-eye-pitch-a-ra-wa-na? Ok, I think that'd be S-R-E-Y-P-I-C-H-A-R-A-V-A-N-N-A.  Oh, S-E-R-E-Y? Ok, that works too."

.....

Something funny happens when you speak a language separate from your native language.

{Technically, lots of funny things happen as you learn to speak a new language. Every day. Even two years after you've immersed yourself in that language and have begun to use nearly a third of the time when speaking with your husband. Ha.}

But that's not the point of this little ditty.

What's interesting, to me, is how I've adapted to reading the English language through the lens of Khmer.

Khmer is not a language that has adopted an English-phonetical-translation.  Not officially, anyway.  But someone- the French?- gave them a paper. And on this paper is an approximation of the English phonetics for Khmer.

And, as an American native speaker of the English language, this paper and phonetic translation is nearly the exact opposite of what I my brain tells me to write when I hear the sounds.

At least, it was the opposite two years ago.

But now? Now, I hear the name 'sr-eye-da-h' and I know to write Sreydav (yes, that's a 'v' where you, native English speaker reading this, might not think there is a need for it.)  In fact, I now have to remind myself how to pronounce an English word correctly when reading it aloud.  When I see the word 'sour' my poor confused brain has to send override signals to my jumbled mouth to read it with the strong 'ow/ao' sound and not the 'oo-ah' sound that it is interpreted to mean for Khmer speakers writing Khmer phonetically in English.

So, earlier this week, as I was helping some of the students who attended an art workshop with Chris and I a few weeks ago, it was quite second nature to have the students say their names and write them phonetically in English, and then verify with a Khmer counterpart that they were spelled correctly.

So, if you happen to hear me ignore 'v' sounds at the end of the words, or even pronounce that 'v' as a 'vw' sound, please do forgive me.  I'm having to re-learn how to read and pronounce my own language.  And it's hilarious.

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.}

a view into some of the deeper, darker thoughts

This month, our bi-yearly report came due.  Twice a year, Peace Corps Volunteers take a few hours to gather the informal and formal data we've gathered, write up detailed notes about our projects, and reflect on our experience and service so far. 

This time around, my third time completing my form, I have been inspired by a fellow PCV to actually lay out my thoughts from that form for you all.  I will likely share a number of reflections I've had and reported to my Program Manager here, but first up is the one that is inspired by Christin- my challenges.

I don't pretend that my thoughts are entirely eloquent, and they may even lack that vital element of humility that I try to embody every single day.  But they are from the heart, written nearly two years into this experience of living in a brand new place, amongst brand new cultural ideals.  That said, take it all with a grain of salt.

With that, here is what I jotted down.

**********

What challenges have you faced in your project or other areas of your Peace Corps experience?

There are a myriad of small challenges that Americans, particularly American volunteers, face each day living in Cambodia. Most of them are insignificant- dealing with extreme heat coupled with lack of air conditioning, large, disease-ridden mosquitoes out to suck our blood, and the real and present danger that the next food item we eat may be covered with bacteria that our body has never seen and, when ingested, will react violently to.

I've had the same challenges that many PCVs face- my trainees do not have free time for clubs that I thought I'd be able to start, mainly because they spend their evenings and midday breaks preparing their own lessons or getting extra money teaching classes. I've had projects start and stall and be inconsistent because of holidays, scheduling changes (they seem to change monthly), commitment from people who then are unable to meet that commitment, etc.

But none of these surface level challenges tend to get me down twenty months into my service. They are a part of my life, and they only serve to remind me of how truly lucky I have it when I live in America.

It is the deeper challenges that cause me sincere distress at this point in my service. Huge, cultural challenges that either prevent me from doing my work, or prevent me from feeling successful in my work.



BEING A FEMALE IN AN ENTIRELY MALE DOMINATED SCHOOL ENVIRONMENT

Without a doubt, the greatest challenge I have faced in my service has been being a female amongst a team of entirely male co-teachers. My experience has been largely defined by the men that I do my primary work with, and it has not been overwhelmingly positive. I'm aware that female Volunteers face challenges with their female counterparts, but, having recently finally been given the opportunity to work with a female counterpart, I am more aware of the differences between what my work is like with a female as compared to a male Khmer co-teacher.

My very first day at the RTTC [Regional Teacher Training Center], I showed up fifteen minutes before a meeting was set to begin. I was the first person to arrive, so I sat down to study some Khmer. As teachers began to trickle in, I greeted each of them politely, explaining who I was. Eventually, some of the English teaching staff arrived. When they saw me, they immediately knew who I was. The very first thing they said to me, before finding out my name, was that it would have been better if I was a man, or, since I was a woman, if the female English trainer who is normally on staff was not out for the year. They told me it would be much easier to learn the culture and be a teacher at the RTTC if she had been there.

They were 100% correct. Though I've been frustrated by that interaction for a number of months, I've recently come to realize that they predicted so accurately my two years of service that I wish I could go back to the Kate in October 2011 and tell her not to be angry- but to acknowledge this piece of wisdom, thank them for it, and then move on.

I have had four male counterparts during my service. One of them, who was not given English classes this year and thus I was forced to discontinue teaching with, is an exception to the statements I am about to make.

In my daily work with my male counterparts, I am never asked my opinion on a lesson strategy. Often, I am asked if I have an "idea" for what to teach that day. I have given a number of answers to this questions- from, "yes I have this great idea for a new strategy to teach XYZ" to "I have some thoughts, but I'd love to hear yours"- and nearly all answers were usually met with a shake of a the head, and then my co-teacher telling me what the plan is. I have had success in bringing new techniques and ideas to class when I am the sole person presenting- either because I am teaching the lesson alone, or because my counterpart has given me the allotted space or time to cover a topic or hour. When given this freedom, I have brought in a different personality and style to teaching, provided different resources for English or pedagogical development. In this vein, the near entirety of my experience co-teaching with my male coteachers has been using the model of shared teaching- we each teach a separate, distinct section of the lesson, with very little idea-bouncing or energy-trading while the other person is in the front.

I have had a range of mostly negative experiences with my co-teachers willingness to try both a) new things and b) provide the students with the knowledge I believe necessary to become successful teachers. In one case, I have one coteacher whom I have found to be very rigid and unwilling to view my teaching style and techniques as anything he could ever adapt for himself. I have been told by this teacher that he is not a woman and cannot act like me in the classrom- that what I do only works in America or because I am American, and would not work for him. When I finally felt comfortable providing feedback and ideas to improve his instruction, I was met with an uncomfortable laugh and an unwillingness to change. When I then felt it was time to provide some firmer feedback, I found small success only when it came to improving his English - never his methodology. Even when I provided corrections to his word usage, pronunciation- along with context of why it was incorrect, softened with a story of how I made similar mistakes learning Italian or Khmer- I was still confronted with questions like "are you sure?" and "well, this is how we say it when we are Khmer speaking English." Only with a much more forceful repeating of the feedback was it accepted.

With one co-teacher that I began working with this year, I was asked numerous times why I was qualified to work as a trainer at the RTTC. In the year prior, he had said, during a simple chatting sessions amongst teachers, the he did not 'believe' me when I spoke about enjoying my time in Cambodia, and went on to question much of what I was saying. There is a chance I didn't understand his humor- that I still don't understand his humor- but it soured our relationship before it had even began. When we did finally teach together this year, we had a very strong first few classes. I brought in some new ideas, he enjoyed them and I even had a glance into the relationship many have with their co-teachers, as I saw him take a lesson I'd delivered the class before and make it his own with some of my flourishes in the next class. We left that day agreeing we were a 'great team.' Something- I still don't know exactyl what, perhaps it was my lack of grammatical rule knowledge? - deteriorated our common ground. One day, he asked me what degree I had, expressed surprised I had my master's in teaching, made a reference to the previous (male ) PCV who knew a lot about grammar, and then made a comment vaguely referencing aspects of English that are easier for men to learn than women. Since then, it is difficult to work with him. He does not wait for me to go to class and will often park his moto near the classrooms while I am waiting on the other side of the building to enter with him. He will do the majority of the teaching himself, while I stand to the side.

Because of my adherence to cultural division between men and women (which I do out of respect and a desire to not be seen as a loose, American woman), I have never been able to develop a deep relationship outside of teaching with these men. I know- because I've seen it and because Peace Corps teaches us that trust and knowing the other person is the quickest way to build a strong relationship that will lead to efficacy between co-teachers- that having a solid personal relationship with these men would have greatly helped me effect a greater change with them in the classroom. I know because my husband has done amazing, amazing things with his male counterparts and friends. They are able to relate to each other in a way I never can as a woman. I know because now that I have a female counterpart, I finally have a relationship both inside and outside the classroom with a woman, and our students are succeeding because of it- because of our shared goals, laughter, and thoughts.



MY WORK BEING SEEN AS INSIGNIFICANT/NON EFFECTIVE BECAUSE IT CAN'T BE "SEEN"

I've shared this with my Program Manager, but my most recent challenge has been the repetition that I need to leave behind an 'achievement' at my RTTC before I go. When my counterpart first asked me what my achievement would be, I had to ask him to clarify. He gave examples like building a new classroom, or library, or computer lab (all of which my school has), or paving the walkways between the school buildings or fixing the bathroom or, even, building a new bathroom!

Luckily, this topic was broached late enough into my service that I felt comfortable being direct- but polite- with my coteacher. I explained the three goals of peace corps, and that goal number 1- what I do at the school- has nothing to do with leaving behind an 'achievement.' I felt successful because many of our second year trainees spoke English better, used more resources when they taught, had more confidence in front of the classroom. He was confused by this explanation of my 'achievement' and pressed the issue a number of times after the initial conversation.

I- and I think, nearly every single PCV- am confronted with the challenge of my work being seen as lacking value or impact because it isn't something I did or built. Because tangible items- like an English library or a world map- have already been completed by previous PCVs or NGOs, I am left with spending my time focusing on what I thought I came here to do - capacity build, train, provide expertise, knowledge, skills. And then being seen as not leaving behind anything of significance, and being completely deflated by a cultural distinction that I vehemently disagree with. I am conflicted in my desire to be understanding of the cultural/Khmer way of viewing schools/roads/bridges etc as examples of 'foreign aid' and 'progress' while also desiring to be direct and upfront that that, while that all aid can be valuable, it will be people-provided sustainable aid which will be truly progressive and change-making in the long run for Cambodian society.

Honestly, I think this is perhaps the greatest mindset issue which all PCVs- both health and education- face, because our primary projects are mostly intangible- we are building skills, providing training and knowledge, community education- and are thus seen as not really giving much to the community, as they can't be SEEN or TOUCHED, we are constantly questioning our ability to be a contributing part of the community in which we've learned to live.

The final thing my counterpart said when he brought up my 'achievement' was that, though no one would ever tell me, the people at my school would speak negatively about me, my service, my impact, behind my back if I didn't leave behind a tangible accomplishment for the school. They would discuss it when I left, and it would be one of the most memorable aspects of my time as "Kate, PCV."

And when I think about that, I'm left completely deflated and questioning the worth of the energy I've poured into my trainees and coteachers for the past 20 months, and the value of my time as a Peace Corps Volunteer. And I'm left frustrated and disheartened about the future of the culture, community and country I've come to love, because I worry that too much emphasis is placed on insignificant achievements, and very little pride is left for the people who do the hard work of building a stronger, smarter nation.

*******

As a final note, I don't feel this way all day, every day.  This is a summation of building sentiments over time.  Frankly, I love every minute I spend with my trainees, with my host family, with the people around me, and I am confident that I have done something of value, of worth here.  If not just for my community, most certainly for myself.  And that brings me immense joy, and immense fulfillment.

do you hear what i hear? (a cultural comparison of sounds)

A month or so ago, I shared my first attempt at an infographic, succinctly breaking down different aspects of Khmer culture (at least, my understanding of it) as compared to my own culture in America.

Today, I finally present my second attempt. 

There's a lot of talk amongst Peace Corps Volunteers about how loud Cambodia is to our daily life in America.  I hesitate to say it's louder outright- but there are a myriad of sounds that are not a part of my everyday life in Maryland- and yes, some do seem to be starkly louder than what I knew before.  However, I'd go so far as to say that Cambodia isn't necessarily louder- more so that America's sounds are stifled, muffled, by tall building, thick walls, and a life lived mostly inside.  In contrast, life in Cambodia happens outside, for all to see, hear, enjoy.

In the graphics below, I've tried to capture sounds throughout the day, from sunrise to sunset, as represented by a darkening sun and its rays.

 Those of you in either place- what would you add to my breakdown?

gong khnyom (my bicycle)

Well, March just really got away from me there, didn’t it? It just slipped by as I went about my daily work, unsuspecting that I’d reach the end of it and have a mere two posts to show for it. Part of it is I’ve been making a concentrated effort to spend less time at my computer- with less than four months left here, I don’t want to wish I had done anything differently- and part of it is that I’ve been sublimely happy this month, working alongside my new counterpart (she’s basically the bomb, and deserving of that dated and somewhat tragic euphemism). I’ve been spending time planning new and invigorated lessons, and I have more energy to do all the things. So, less time inside the small white box with keys, and more outside, in the world, being.

But the focus of this post is actually how I get there- to the outside world. I’ve been using a gifted item for the past 21 months, and I figured it was about time to share my thoughts with all of you regarding the bicycle that Peace Corps Cambodia was kind enough to send to me. Hopefully, it goes without saying, this review is entirely my own, though I was given this item to me for the express purpose of its use, and I’m assuming, eventual review here on the interwebs.**

To the outside eye, my bike resembles your typical, average, everyday two-wheeled contraption. I thought that when I first received it. It did strike me as something new and different when I realized that the bike Peace Corps was gifting me was more than just a method of moving about- it was freedom.

My freedom is a cool, creamy ivory- a big juxtaposition to the typical silver plated bikes I see about town- with a roomy, spongy seat. No tiny, bikini-covered-parts crushing here, no sir! I have tested this bike on two very long bike rides, and I can tell you, it really lives up to its advertising. My butt only begins to ache after hour two, and transitions to numbness after hour four. I mean, that’s basically a reason to spring for one right now!

To make the bike a bit more me, I did add some yellow duct tape in spirals around the frame, and name it Bumblebee. I think adding the name has really bonded the bike and me in a way that I’ll never forget. I’m pretty sure that naming my transportation has led to said transportation to be kind to me. I have had minimal problems with my bike, aside from the expected bi-weekly air pump-ups, and the few times I’ve had to have the inner tube mended. (Well, there was that one time I had to buy a whole new inner tube, and it did cost $2.50, which hurt a bit, but I’m apt to blame the not-actual-asphalt-but-concrete-covering-giant-piles-of-loose-rubble roads I circulate on.)

I really think that Bumblebee can feel my love and gratitude streaming through my fingertips to the handlebar, and my tippy toes to the pedals, and this love has been returned threefold in the ease of caring for my bicycle.

I do feel like I have to mention that just this week, my back tire did finally break at a seam, and I had to purchase a new one. I guess it’s to be expected after 21 straight months of use (plus who know how many other months of use by a previous Volunteer! Oh yes, a key aspect- these bikes are recycled, which can only be good things for the environment!) I’d need to invest in something grander than just air for 7.5 cents every two weeks. Luckily, I happen to have a husband who carries more money than me (I average my daily needed .50 cents for breakfast and .60 cents for diet coke in my wallet each day), and he forked over the cash. I’m currently seeking ways to keep him from remembering that he paid, so suggestions welcome!

All in all, I have to say that if I were in the market to say goodbye to my friends and family for two years, move to a foreign (in every aspect) land, and seek to become a true part of a new community, I’d want a bicycle from Peace Corps Cambodia under my rump each day. Highly recommend this adventure and this bike, friends! Get thee to a recruiting office, now!



**This is not a real review of an item gifted to a blogger. This is satire.

It's Universal, You Know.

So a few months back, Chris' Uncle John sent us the ultimate of world-uniting candy:

Pop Rocks.

And then a fantastic former co-worker sent us some more.

So we had to.

This evening, we had major pop rocks explosion fun.  Check out these four videos to see it all go down.

Thank you John and Keisha- they LOVED it.

and then i tie it all together with a great big bow

I bike a lot here the 'bode. And when I bike, I think.  Ergo, I think a lot here in Cambodia.  My high school English teacher (hey Ms. Keezer!) taught me when a writer takes their thoughts and lets them loose as the written word, no holds barred, letting a topic meander like a brook tripping over stones, splashing from one topic to the next- it's called stream of consciousness writing.

So what we've got here is the written, stream-like record, of my thoughts and ideas as they melded into one another earlier this week.

Welcome to the space between my ears.

..........

A month ago, I finally was given an answer to a prayer I'd been shouting in my head for eighteen months: a female co-teacher.  A Khmer woman to teach alongside, to work with, to chat in English and Khmer with, to offer suggestions to, to learn from, and to build a symbiotic relationship with (you know, symbiotic: as in, we both gain something from relying on each other. It's just a Language Arts lesson up in here today, isn't it!) as we co-exist together in the small space of my teacher training center.

Sopheary is more than the answer to my pleas to the universe- she is, in fact, better than I ever could have thought to wish for.  She is hilarious, and clever, and hard working, and open-minded.  We jive off each other while we teach, and- this is INSANE- when she is not sure about a spelling or pronunciation, she will straight up ask me, while at the board.

This is the opposite of the vast majority of teachers I have encountered here.  The education system here is based on the belief that the teacher holds all of the knowledge and it is their job to simply speak it or show it, and the student will learn.  A teacher making an error? Even greater, a student knowing more than the teacher about a topic?  Totally possible, but completely inconceivable.

(Which is, of course, a generalization and doesn't speak to all of the nuances of personalities that teach here, but as a generalization, is generally true and widely accepted, known, and practiced.)

Getting up to teach with Sopheary is the freshest breath of air and exactly what I needed in my final months of serving as an educator at the training center.  There are so many things to say about Sopheary and her amazing work as an educator, but it can be summed it like this:

She essentially eradicates my need to be a part of the informal women's group that's been formed amongst Volunteers.

Frustrated by double standards and cultural biases and differences that led to misunderstandings, feelings of isolation, and a longing to be heard and understood, I joined the women's group to tackle not only what I'd been feeling as a woman in general, but what I've felt as a woman here in Cambodia.

Havoc, wreaked on my confidence, belief in my intelligence and value as a professional, body image and life choices.  Lightly given statements that struck deep, that, as much as he tries, can never be truly understood by a compassionate husband.

A need for connection, finding similarities, relating- a need for friendships.  That was the path to the women's group and relief it has brought.

Friendships among women- where we feel valued, heard and liked.  Where we know that the other woman sees our beauty, our passions, our faults and our hopes and guards them like their hers, as well.

Who needs them?

I need them.

GIRLS need them.  GIRLS, as in, Hannah and Marnie and Jessa and Shoshanna (oh my lord, how I love this name and her character.)  In the end, it's about friendships, isn't it?  What binds women together, what can drag them under, what can tear them, break them, shatter them.  How strongly friendships are formed when women are confronted with similar challenges, and how quickly they can weaken when women metaphorically shift their priorities and pursuits.  How we seek out women who know what we're going through- school, work, marriage, family problems, weight or exercise goals- and when we find them, how difficult it is to hold onto old friends who know longer are confronted with the same truths.

My longest lasting and most constantly evolving friendship began when I was ten.  Katie and I joined the same soccer team.  We went to different elementary schools, but we shared a name.  I was the ridiculous, outgoing one, she was the witty, reserved one.  When I went to her eleventh birthday party, it's a well known fact that her mother wasn't sure she wanted me back- I was that over-the-top energetic.  But return I did, dozens of times for sleepovers, afternoon hang outs, and even more birthday parties.

Katie and I've had varying levels of connectivity over time- from those of steel, six feet wide, made from confessions of first crushes, of experiences with very first real boyfriends, of soccer practice nearly every afternoon for years to those made of slightly more tenuous leather, still ever so wide, made from high schools on opposite sides of town, of different soccer teams, of colleges thousands of miles apart.

But the connection is so real that it's as if it has always existed, since our births two month apart, twenty seven years ago.

And it all started on a soccer field.

There was a soccer tournament in our town this week- and my heart grew three sizes, I swear, when I saw two entirely female teams.  And I was back in Kalispell, Montana, on a weekend tournament with my U-14 team and Katie, when I saw them traipsing through town at dusk, on the hunt for dinner, three adults trailing them, oblivious to the loud and contagious laughter coursing through the group.

Female sports teams are so rare here.  Sports are for men.  Men play volleyball at the makeshift courts all over town.  Men play soccer on the field at the teacher training center.  Men coach the all boys basketball team at the local high school.

The Women in Development/Gender and Development committee I've just joined will face this reality, among dozens of other truths that are preventing true equity amongst sexes from existing in the world.

Which brings us full circle to today.  International Women's Day.  A day designed to celebrate, uplift, and highlight women- our achievements, our challenges.

So Happy International Women's Day, friends- men and women alike.  May you recognize the obstacles women face every day, but also, maybe more importantly, reach out to a woman you know and acknowledge your love for her- for her friendship, for her choices, for her goals, for her skills on the sports field and in her job. For her.

 For it all.

...........

And if you feel like spending your IW Day showing the love, fiscally, for women here in Cambodia, consider giving something - even the smallest contribution can help and is tax deductible - to these projects.

My province's second annual Camp GLOW

A friend's domestic violence prevention training

A friend's abuse in school prevention workshop

in the blink of an eye

Oh hey end of February! You got here fast.

February has been a pretty monumental month. I mean, you've seen the pictures of the world map and the re-opening of the library where I volunteer a few times a week, and even though we didn't know it was going to be such a celebration at the Oscars this year, we're right on trend with our delve into the world of James Bond.

But February was also the month wherein I received 37 mosquito bites while sleeping at a fellow Volunteer's house one night.  Hilarious, only because the other two people sharing the bed received two each, at most.  I did successfully kill one of the mosquitoes right after she bit me (all the blood sucking mosquitoes are female, did you know?) (no, but for real), which was a sweet vengeance, though the other 36 did outsmart me, awakening me hourly as I felt the bites growing in number.

February also marked a full three day barrage of weddings, including the big day for one of my co-teachers and for our Khmer teacher (our in-training teacher and cultural facilitator.)  As we rode our bikes the 30 kilometers (18 miles) to our Khmer teacher's wedding, I realized how very quickly our time here is slipping away.  In the blink of an eye, we'll be back in America, settling and likely settled into our familiar routines, wondering how could have ever complained about it being so warm.



Because February was also the month in which we learned when we will officially close our service as Peace Corps Volunteers.  Though Volunteers sign up for a 27 month commitment (3 months of in-country training, then 24 months living and working at our respective sites), a number of factors have gone into Chris' and my actual service working out to (what feels like now) a very brief 23 months and 8 days.

We will close our service on Wednesday, July 3rd.

Ostensibly, this means that we could be on a plane, flying into our home airport the late evening of July 4th, perhaps to the sights of hundreds of fireworks across America.

And February was the month wherein I edited our respective resumes into one page oblivion as the first step in the arduous process that is finding a place to use our passions and experience back home.

And that's where we land at the end of this delightfully short month.  With a small, progressively clearer picture of our future.  A picture that comes ever so much closer each day, slowly taking over the vivid colors of our current heat and mango season saturated life in the wilds of this small southeast Asian country.

bizzz-eeee

It feels so strange to say it, but I've been busy lately! Cambodia busy, yes, but busy nonetheless.

For example.

It was the (third..and final?) official opening of the library where I volunteer two afternoons a week.  The library is overseen and created by a German NGO, though all of the workers are Khmer and it follows a social business model where it strives to be completely self-sustaining, a goal that is finally starting to feel like a reality for the library here at my site.

Last week, several people from Europe, and mainly Germany, ventured to Cambodia to really kick off the remodeling of the library- now, learning center- and the beginning of the variety of learning opportunities the learning center will offer.

I joined in by offering to do something visually interesting for the walls.  Peace Corps has a world wide World Map project, wherein maps are painted in various countries by various Volunteers. In Cambodia, that usually means on the outside wall of one of a Volunteer's respective school.  My teacher training college already has a map, courtesy of a previous Volunteer.  So I offered to paint one inside the learning center.  While it wasn't ideal in terms of community action, it was fun and every single person- as in, every single patriot of Cambodia- was visibly excited when they encountered both the process and the map.

In fact, I got to re-draw and re-paint Cambodia on the map because a small Eastern section was accidentally not traced (I'm no artist.)  It was fantastic to see the librarians and others point out that a section was missing and really had me smiling that, despite what may seem like a serious lack of geographical knowledge, they know their country well.  Exactly as it should be.

(Though, I'm pretty stoked for the learning opportunities present now that I can visually reference other countries, their size, location and general proximity to Cambodia.)

Add all of this to a jaunt to the capital for a meeting which was simultaneously amazing and emotionally draining (for me), beginning a new teaching schedule with the (NEW AND ONLY!) female English teacher and getting a random, wicked throat illness, I'm done.

But I did find energy to teach some kids "duck, duck, goose" at the learning center this afternoon.

Or, rather, "duck, duck, chicken" as I really wanted to work on saying "chicken" instead of "kitchen."

And thus it was a glorious afternoon.

of s'mores and second goals

Last night, Topher and I were finally able to accomplish something we've been working towards for several months now.  Something we've been planning since we first asked my mother to send us chocolate, and marshmallows and graham cracker, which she obliged in a package around Christmastime.

Last night, we finally made s'mores with our host family.

It started as a craving when asked what we'd like in a package, and grew to a greater purpose when we realized this could be a truly fantastic, very "American" experience we could share with our beautiful Khmer family.

Although our original plan was to roast the marshmallows over our family's ceramic fire pit outside, we discovered (after weeks of tweaking to ensure it worked just right) that our gas stove worked just as well!

So we invited our nieces, nephew and sister into our home after dinner to partake in some fun of making a 'bong-aim America,' or American dessert.

It was a roaring success, I must say.


The best reflection of the enjoyment is seen in the imperfect lower right picture of the cluster below.

 After we had devoured our sugary snack, the kids played on our small whiteboard.  I took the opportunity to quickly help them visually see the name of the treat we'd just made.

In the Peace Corps world, we talk about our work within the framework of three goals.  

My primary work fulfills goal number one, but it's the daily joy I find in goals two and three that keep me excited to wake up each morning here in Cambodia.  A lot of my work relative to goal one often leaves me feeling impotent and out of control (thanks Cher!), mainly due to existing bureaucratic, systematic hurdles that exist in the education system here.  But all of my work relative to goals two and three feel meaningful, revelatory, and usually fun.

Which is exactly how I'd describe last night.  I explained to our sister that Americans typically make s'mores while camping and sleeping under the stars, which is why we like to roast marshmallows over the open fire, as we do when we camp.  They may have thought us a bit nuts, but the sweet, sugary end was a delight in and of itself!

What great American dessert would you feel compelled to share with another country?

we just don't do that: a cultural comparison

Happy Friday!  This weekend, the Acting Director of Peace Corps is in town, and I may even get the chance to meet her!  I'm off to join Chris in Phnom Penh bright and early tomorrow morning, after spending the evening attending a wedding of one of his colleagues here in his stead.

I've had this post in drafts for six months at least now, and I finally took the time to put it in an interesting format and share with it you.

These are my reflections on lines of politeness here in Cambodia, versus those in America.  This is definitely NOT an exhaustive list and certainly not an 'absolute truth' kind of list.  It's more of what I've noticed or been told as compared to how we do things, politeness wise, in America.

I've tried to break it down into an easily understood chart.  You can assume that if there is not a star in one country's column, it is not a common practice and the opposite, you can safely assume, happens all the time. I'll leave it at that!

Anything surprise you?

a big thanks, to everyone

They say that a Peace Corps Volunteer cannot accomplish anything alone.  Usually, this refers to the support a PCV seeks to earn from the community in which they live in their new home.

And yet, it's even more clear to me, seventeen (exactly!) months into my service, that I could not do my job and accomplish my and my community's goals without my family and friends who support me and my work back at home in America.

So, here's that thank you letter I've been writing in my head every single day for the past 520 days, give or take:

Dear Parents, Parents-in-law, Siblings and Siblings-in-law, Uncles and Uncles-in-law, Cousins and Cousins-in-law, Neighbors, Friends from College, Friends from High School, Friends from my Teaching Days in Baltimore, Friends from TFA in Baltimore, and Friends of friends of any of these groups who have sent a smile my way these past months, 

Thank you.  From the deepest trench of the bottom of my heart, thank you so very much.  Your intentional physical, emotional, financial and mental support has made the difference between a frustrating, lonely, sad year-and-a-half of service and a successful, less-frustrating, supportive, joyful year-and-a-half of service.

Many of you have spent the time and money to send me (and really, us) gifts, small and large, through the insanity that is the postal service in the U.S. and Cambodia.  Even if that package or letter took three months to arrive, I thank you.

Many of you have contributed financially to both our work projects and our play.  They have, quite literally, meant that I have been able to do things like my Camp GLOW and visit Vietnam.  I thank you.

All of you have, in some way or another, helped me because of something you said via facebook or email that made me laugh. Helped me because of something you said before I left that I remember on one of my many long bus rides around this country.  Or  helped me because of something you did while eating dinner one night that reminds me why I, and we, chose to leave our home, our puppy, our family and our friends for uncertainty and unknown possibilities. 

  I thank you.

All my love, 
Kate