the rice connoisseur

no i am not eating rice. this is a cheeseburger. and it was delicious. it seems one can be a burger AND rice connoisseur simultaneously. topher and i = living proof.

and then then the day came in which i knew far too much about rice.

some rice is too sticky.

some rice is too clumpy.

when rice is overdone, it forms smalls balls of overdoneness.

when rice is burned, it tastes like ass.

one scoop plus a little is the perfect amount for one meal.

noodles made out of rice are deceptive and fill your tummy faster and expand upon impact of fluid than anything i've yet to discover.

and, if you live in cambodia, angkor rice is best.

and don't bother asking if brown or basmati or wild rice exists.

that rice is awt chingaing (not delicious).

so now you know.

glass on the windows

my teacher training center/school

today, as i waited for my trainees to complete their task of sweeping and dusting the classroom, i was approached by one of my them who has a pretty good handle on english.  though i'm often sad in the moment to put away my khmer studying, i'm always energized by the inevitably interesting conversation that happens as i engage in these short dialogues.

a few minutes in, my trainee and i had to pause our chat when the wind lifted a great deal of dirt into our faces from the pile that was being created by students sweeping the leaves and rubbish from the main thoroughfare in front of the classrooms.

as we covered our mouths from inhaling the dust, my trainee asked me "is it this dirty in america?"

well, trainee, let's consider that.

his question jogged a thought that has been bouncing around my head for the last seven months, a thought about the way that cambodians and americans conduct general life.

in cambodia, life happens outside.  

when you want to visit your friends, you usually do so while sitting outside on a concrete bench, or a low wooden table, or while lounging in a hammock.  in fact, it's customary to spend a good deal of time "sit/playing", or hanging out, with friends and family, generally out of doors.  

i don't always enjoy this aspect- sitting in the sun, under a small bit of shade, praying for a good wind to pick up, while catching up on what khmer food i like and don't like.  but, this hanging out is a crucial part of life here, and it, like most everything, happens outside.

want to visit your aunt who works at the market? you'll be chatting away in the open air market (even if it has a roof.)  grabbing a coffee with a friend? you'll enjoy it in a plastic chair outside or in a restaurant with the door flung wide open.  heading home? your windows and doors will be open to the world for a light breeze and to welcome any of those visitors coming your way.

it used to throw me for a loop when people asked me where my house was (is this safe?!) and if they could come visit.  but given that everything happens for all to see, there is practically an open door policy across the country.  stop on by!

because life in cambodia happens in open air.  eating, chatting, cooking, even showering and "using the bathroom" commonly happens out of doors.  

along with all this life happening outside comes the fact that life is there for all to see. LIFE is there for ALL to see.  cambodians may preciously guard personal opinions or thoughts, but what you ate for dinner last night, or what time you got home, or the fact that you washed ten pairs of underwear this morning is visible to all and open game for questions or discussion.

and in america, the world happens behind the doors.  when we go anywhere, we're sure to shut the door tightly behind us- don't let that air conditioned/heated air escape!  windows? open to the sun, but closed to the air.  important discussions happen at long tables in comfortable, rolling chairs.  what you ate for dinner last night is only shared if it was especially delicious- or horrendous.  and my laundry? you don't even know when if i do it!

because, of course, in america, we have specially designed areas for life outside.  sure, we'll also hang out with friends in the outdoors- on carefully constructed patios or wooden decks, in strategically placed lounging chairs, typically behind a house or a gate.

so, when my trainee asked me about dirt in america, i had to explain how dirt, swirling around us, is not a common occurrence.

i explained the glass over the windows, and the concrete paved everything with the artfully planted grassy knolls.  i didn't get into the other things- that we knock when we want to visit people and that hammocks, well, they're an art lost on the majority of americans.  that the concept of sweeping a dirt road and having to brush off your desk before sitting is an idea completely foreign to modern americans.  

america is less dusty, but also a bit less open.

so, my house is by the market, and sure come on over!  though, hammocks are sorely lacking, so feel free to bring your own.

what's your take on life outdoors versus indoors?

and have you ever written a post, uploaded pictures, labeled it, scheduled it post and view it on your "scheduled posts" page all to have it disappear ten minutes later? because that happened to me with this post and i'm still a bit angry. it's just never as eloquent the second time around, you know? 

happy friday!

and then it was leap day and i was so very excited!

so today was the illustrious leap day of the leap year, which only happens once every four years, and which excites me deep down into my marrow.

there's a lot to do today, as i'm working on a new curriculum/textbook project for the students of cambodia (new, better english learning for all!), have oodles of reservations to make for a trip to vietnam topher and i are planning, and need to pack for a wedding we're traveling to tomorrow morning!

so, please enjoy the remaining pictures from february.

happy leap year day!

and then it was hot again.

the past three days at site have been oppressively warm.  just sitting, in front of fan, for an hour produces a nice sheen of humidity-induced oil on my face.  after i've taken a shower.  it's disgusting.

(a hot shower, because it's so warm that instead of the typical 10 second blast of warm water, it lasts for a good solid two minutes.  the precise opposite of what a sweaty girl needs!)

this past sunday, we were graced with the presence of two fellow volunteers from a northern province, and they even brought with them the ingredients to make...

wait for it...

fettucini alfredo!

i ate a cream sauce! made in my own home!

which of course made me realize, damnit, i could have been buying butter and milk and bringing it with me from phnom penh this whole time? i'm a dolt.

and then! then there was spare butter so topher made cornbread tonight! from mix sent from home! and i ate it with real butter! GOBS OF BUTTER!

i nearly died of happiness.

and then today i spent two solid hours researching the exam i need to take to get an endorsement (read: certified in) early childhood and/or elementary education!  and i took a short practice test and i didn't do too shabbily!  and i'm thinking about being a teacher again!

AND I'M THINKING ABOUT TRYING TO BE A TEACHER AGAIN?!?!

and finally, i've a new, fabulous blog header, made by the incomparable IROCKSOWHAT.  honestly, girl's got so many skills, it makes me hate myself a tiny bit.

you should click over to the site if you're in google reader- you'll get to see me biking from baltimore to cambodia!

and now in other news, i have to go wash the dishes and my face again because it's oily just from writing this blog post.

cheers to your tuesday!

how much does it cost? i'll buy it.

This past weekend was a beautiful one.  It rained, sheets of rain, Friday night, clearing the way for a mostly humid-free weekend.  Now we're spending some days in the capital for training, as well as various other meetings and workshops and general busy times, which usually involves the wearing of professional clothes for at least eleven hours.  We're talking an ankle length skirt with a collared shirt, for the record. 

On Saturday, we'll hit seven months in Cambodia, which feels a bit surreal- even weirder than six months.  I'm finally reaching a place where I feel like all those observations I've jotted down about life in this little country are ready to be put into coherent words and stories and shared.  

One of the first observations I made, and still make nearly daily, are generally some amount of "in Cambodia" versus "in America."

In America, it was a given that my hair would be worn down.  In Cambodia, it's a miracle when I can leave my hair down for more than an hour.

In America, it could be a day tipping the thermometer at triple digits, but there was always the sweet respite of indoors.  Oh temperature control.  In Cambodia, every day throws the thermometer into highs and levels of humidity arrive that seemingly no one could live through day after day, and there is never the sanity of air conditioner or temperature control available.  Relief arrives via a cool breeze drifting through the leaves as you take a moment under the shade of a tree.

In America, safe and cold water is almost always free and available.  In Cambodia, safe can only be bought and cold is never guaranteed.

In America, you can run out of butter, toilet paper, and garlic and purchase all three in a one stop shop.  In Cambodia, you have to buy things at completely separate shops. Hell, in Cambodia, you don't buy toilet paper because you don't use it.  You only buy butter (real butter) in the capital.  Garlic, though, is used in everything.

And then, finally.  In America, the price is the price is the price.  In Cambodia, the price is the inflated number the seller says to see how much or little you understand about culture here.  It's the starting point.

Becuase, here, we bargain.  And it's all charming and fun at first.  And then it's stress inducing. And then it's annoying.  And then frustrating.  And then downright maddening.

Why, oh why, can't the price of my tuk tuk ride just be a fair price? Why do I have to convince you that me paying a dollar is far better than paying a dollar twenty five?  Actually, why do I have to convince you that I'm NOT going to pay five dollars, which was the first number you said?  Why do you have to comment on how far it is, or how much Khmer I know or don't know?  Why do your friends have to crowd around us while we're negotiating and laugh and tease and cajole and tell me that a dollar is not a good price and blah blah blah.

Now I understand, bargaining is what it is.  A fact of life.  It's inevitable and happening every moment, and if I greet it with a smile instead of a frown, it goes much better.

But I still wish there was just one damn price.

happiness is...hilarity is

happiness is:
realizing, for the one hundred and seventieth time, how lucky you are to have a shower.

really, that's it.

also, that maybe you've lived in your site for nearly five months, or one hundred and seventy days, already?

hilarity is:
have such an incredibly sore bum because you fell not once, but twice, in three days while getting out of the shower.

not only, but also suffering the humiliation that is your husband opening the bathroom door to see you sprawled, naked, trying not to cry because you fell really hard on your behind and it's embarrassing, hilarious and painful all in one.

happiness is:
your husband taking your challenge of "use some of these spice packets we got sent to us, yo!" to make three most delicious meal parts, one involved rendered pork fat making the most delicious green beans and carrots you've had these past seven months.

hilarity is:
wondering why you can't seem to get any of that delicious food in your mouth and then realizing that it's really happened:

you've forgotten how to use a fork and will now require a spoon for the rest of your meals forthwith.

happiness is:
planning your upcoming trip to vietnam with your husband and getting excited about train rides on soft sleeping berths and canyoning trips.

hilarity is:
getting irrationally angry at your husband because he asked you to help him plan it, when really you were trying to be all "go with the flow" for this trip and let HIM plan it, only to realize you've been pouting and maybe a bit mean when you actually wrote "plan vietnam trip" in your planner last monday and maybe you need some chocolate because your period is making you a bit crazy?

happiness is:
waking up to a gorgeous, sunny day.

hilarity is:
realizing that what was a gorgeous, sunny day to you was actually an eighty-nine degree with seventy percent humidity day.

and that's how you know that you've either a) adjusted to a new, drastically different climate or b) simply stopped trying to care about how much you sweat.

what's your happiness and hilarity for this week?

a leap year month, half gone

when i move back to america, i should think i'd like to raise a cocker spaniel and a mini pig.  they will be the best of friends and love each other forever and always.  they shall be my spaniel and pig, and i shall call them pig and pup.

here's what i've been up to so far in february, all of which can be found daily at my tumblr.

so as you can gather, this month so far has involved some vomit, baking, delicious indian food (all unrelated, except they happened consecutively), and typical cambodian days involving bikes, monks and dry rice fields ripe for the planting in coming rainy months.

how's your february so far?