Pchum Ben

The list of holidays in Cambodia is as long as Angkor Wat is old.  While I have heard unsubstantiated rumors that Cambodia has more official holidays than any other nation-state on the planet, the fact that Cambodians tend to “take off” more than just the actual day of the holiday, usually the days before and after as well if not more.

Pchum Ben is a Buddhist holiday in Cambodia that celebrates the deceased ancestors of one’s family.  At its essence, the impetus of the holiday is that, as mortals, we can somehow benefit our dead relatives by feeding them things like rice (naturally), fruit, cakes and water (because ghosts need to wash big meals down too…).  This basic level of understanding Kate and I gained through participation in the rituals with our host family and by speaking with some of our language tutors. 

At the height of the festival, families go to their local wats at different times of the day to make offerings of food and money to the monks that, it is believed, are then directly offered to the ghosts of relatives dead and gone via the monks who are constantly chanting and giving thanks.  Offerings are also made to one’s ancestors by participating in a VERY early morning ceremony where family members go to the wat and walk in a circle around the central pagoda three times.  At each corner, it is expected that you toss a small piece of rice cake or fruit away from the temple (presumably towards the ghosts) into the ever-growing piles that reach several feet in height after the ceremony is over.  This makes the angry ghosts, those who are in the Buddhist equivalents of purgatory or hell, turn back and not harm the living.  It sounds like the prologue of a sweet fantasy novel, but its actually an amazing service to be apart of.  The smell of incense is overpoweringly thick, there are so many people waking around the temple that its difficult to take full steps and the 4am bike ride in the dark to the wat makes you feel like you are either going to a Halloween party or a midnight service on Christmas. 

The festival seems to run over a three day period, during which the Cambodian transit system goes into its “holiday mode” where the number of traffic accidents goes up drastically, the price for travel increases (sometimes by a few 100 percent) and families tend to gather together at their “homelands” or where they were raised.  My usual 3k-bikeride to town went from a relatively serene and leisurely trip to one of alert, terror and a strong desire to not cross the road at all.  Cars usually drive somewhat recklessly on the highway the runs by our house and traffic laws always have been negotiable in this country, but commuting via bike on Pchum Ben felt more like a game of high-stakes Frogger. 

On the plus side, the food is awesome – but not on account of any traditions.  Since houses are suddenly full of family members, everyone is vying for the title of best cook, and since our house in particular happened to have two Americans living there, the stakes were much higher.  We had some dishes that were truly amazing and made me wonder why we had not experienced that cacophony of tantalizing spices and flavors previously.  Roasted duck that was then stewed in a thick spicy, peppery peanut sauce, curry that would knock out your neighborhood Thai joint, and this salty, rich dish with potatoes, carrots and pork that was cooked in pork fat so long it almost tasted creamy (nom,nom!).  While we had a particularly skilled cook catering to us during PST, I couldn’t help but think that this was the food I had been waiting for.

Cambodian food in general, I must say, is something that I have generally been disappointed in as it is relatively bland and has little variety.  When you consider Cambodia to be nestled among China, Thailand and Vietnam – regular leviathans of Asian cuisine – you might assume that Cambodia is one of those undiscovered jewels of culinary awesomeness.  Not so. 

Ill leave you with some pictures of my extended family, and my Yea in particular, making traditional Pchum Ben cakes of rice, beans and pork or banana wrapped in a banana leaf and cooked until the insides become gooey and delicious. 

The whole family (in town for the holiday) and a few neighbors, getting
in on the Pchum Ben fun.   Here they are making the traditional rice cakes with pork and beans. 

My bad ass with a heart of gold Yea.  She is stuffing 

rice and filling into the banana leaf wrapping that will 

then be cooked.  Also, she got up at 3am to do this...

Just for fun, one of the geckos that lives in our house.
Its called a T'kai because of the noise it makes.
We have one that is about two feet long, but
this one stands at a measly six or seven inches...

Our house! Here you can see the front porch, the
table where we typically eat all meals and the rice paddy
beyond on the side of our house.  The buildings beyond
are actually a high school where we practiced teaching
during training. 

Boost to morale and R&R

One of the larger and more looming requirements to Peace Corps service is passing a language test towards the end of one’s PST.  We all study the language of Cambodia, K’mai (or Khmer if you like, but nobody pronounces it like that here) for about four hours a day during training.  Peace Corps’ tried and true approach to language learning is fantastic because you get to practice what you have learned with your host family or by buying something at the market only minutes after having learning it.  In some ways this is more stressful because you often “forced” to use the language simply by living your daily life around town (buying laundry detergent, food, using transportation), but it typically seems to help people practice and retain vocabulary and grammar. 

Peace Corps wants all of its volunteers to learn the language of your host country so that you can be the most effective volunteer you can be.  To that end, we all are required to take and score a minimal passing score on a nationally administered speaking and comprehension test.  Many trainees want to do well on this as it is one of very few chances to really demonstrate what you have learned in a quantifiable or qualitative way given that Peace Corps seems to be vastly compromised of Type-A personalities. 

We all also want to do well because we want to learn the language; we want to be able to communicate in a basic way with our new families and co-workers; we want to make proud and impress our language teachers, who act as big brothers or sisters, cultural “hand-holders” and mentors all at once.

On one of our last hub-site days towards the end of our Pre-Service Training, we were all heading to our hub-site with bags packed for a short but much needed two-night vacation away from our training sites.  We also would find out the scores of our final language test taken just a few days before. 

Proudly and happily, Kate and I did very well and attribute a great deal of our success to having who I consider to be the best LCF/Language teacher in our group – thanks, Savin!  My wife is a rock star at life and stands out as one of the best speakers in our group of sixty.  Opening our envelopes and doing better than we hoped on our language test was not only a big boost, but also a huge relief, it was one of the last big obstacles in our way of being sworn in as full-fledged volunteers. 

If that wasn’t enough, I finally received a package from my mom that I had been waiting for, for several weeks.  Thanks, mom! It’s amazing how a jar of one’s favorite peanut butter, some hard candy and a bag of (still crunchy) double-stuffed Oreos can make the problems of the world fade. 

That night the three-fold boost to my morale was complete when we got to our hotel room to find…wait for it…a hot water heater.   Some of Cambodia’s better hotels have these little individual hot water heaters built directly into the water line of a shower so it warms the water as it flows.  Now, you may have heard me complain a few times about the stifling heat and unrelenting humidity…indeed it feels like I have not been dry since disembarking from the airplane from Bangkok.  But, it had been over two months since my last hot shower.  All the bucket showers and St. Ives exfoliating scrub cannot make you feel as clean or as human as a hot shower.  I really recommend everyone reading this blog to go two months without a hot shower, simply because on day 61 when you take a hot shower you may understand the meaning of life.   

As if my super-fun weekend of awesomeness could get any better, the next morning we headed out to a small little getaway town in southern Cambodia that is dotted with cafes, restaurants and shops run by expatriates from various Western countries.  Over the next 24 hours I would gorge myself on the damn-near closest thing I will get to BBQ ribs, decent burgers, pancakes (pumpkin spice and with chocolate chips no less!!!) and for my wife, fru-fru frozen drinks. 

I am not sure if I ever really understood the term “recharging your batteries” in the same way that I now do.  Making small talk with some British pup owners, watching rugby and drinking very cold beer and enjoying the company of some of my closest friends I have made in country was an amazing way to unwind and gear up for the last push of training.  

Cambodia's Biggest Problem...

No its not education, its not corruption, its not even the hat or the bugs...Cambodia’s largest problem preventing them from climbing the global ranks to “developed” status is undoubtedly its extensive and widespread lack of padded and cushioned seating. 

I first noticed this grave issue upon first arrival to this great country and have only continued to see the plight of this countrywide deficiency.  Anyone who has been to Cambodia and sat in a hotel chair, attended any kind of function at the Wat, sat in one of those little plastic chairs (that are definitely not weight-rated for Americans, I have broken two now…) or eaten dinner sitting K’mai style (basically sitting on top of a large wooden-slatted table, cross-legged for the duration of the meal) knows exactly what I am talking about.  I have had more cases of numb-ass, feet falling asleep and bottom bruising in my last two and half months than the rest of my combined life. 

While my primary assignment in Cambodia is to be a PCV and work on education and youth development initiatives, I am seriously considering writing a grant to import some American-standard padding for chairs, beds and vehicles in Cambodia.  There is actually probably a study somewhere out there demonstrating the correlation between the rising prosperity of a country and increases to the “cushiness” of its seating.

My frustration with this issue is only exacerbated by the fact that I have lost about 20lbs. (seemingly all from my ass, and thus my last remaining natural padding is gone) and my daily 10-12k bike rides (the seats are horrible…).  While in our training village it was difficult to choose between the stone seats around the dinner table and the unyielding, unpadded desk chair at our house, our new home will have several options ranging from a wooden slatted day bed or wooden slatted “sofas”, though the term sofa should not apply to something as torturously uncomfortable as this. 

Maybe the reason Cambodia has so many issues is that nobody wants to sit down at a desk or around the negotiation table long enough to get anything done.  I think if you really want to make a country more prosperous and democratic, give them nice chairs and padded seat cushions for their places of work, they won’t even want to leave to go home on their scarcely padded mode of conveyance to their even crappier padded kitchen table only to lie down on their rock hard or uneven wooden beds.  Problem solved...

Site announcement and visit!

I realize that my blog has suffered over the past month – I was kind of surprised to see that my last post was about killing the rat (which is still kind of awesome, I think…), mainly since so much has happened since then.  It not like I have been bored twiddling my thumbs, from permanent site announcements, to vacations, to swear-in and moving in to our new home, I have a great deal to talk about.

In fact I have been trying to keep in mind those little details that make blogs so entertaining so that I can recap when I finally put pen to paper, err…fingers to keys.  So I will try to give you a shotgun blast of updates over the past month and will ambitiously state that I will give you a retroactive post per day for one week. Ready set go.

Almost one month ago Kate and I gathered with our fellow trainees for a particularly special hub-site day, when all of the trainees from our group pour in from the three training villages to a larger central town.  As with many important milestones in one’s Peace Corps service, we were all simultaneously feeling a variety of emotions on our tuk-tuk ride in (Have I mentioned these yet?  Tuk-tuks are Cambodia’s approximation of taxis in the US, but that scarcely does them justice.  Imagine a motorcycle rigged to pull a small carriage and you have it.  They are really for shorter distances, but we sometimes test their abilities with trips of 20-30km.  Also, they would fit about four people in accordance with American definitions of comfort – we tend to have about six or seven in them on a regular basis).  As we enjoyed the wind in our faces from the bumpy, open-air ride to town, I remember literally being able to parse out the various emotions – excitement, confusion, relief, calm and some serious apprehension about finding out where we would each be spending the next two years of our lives.

So few moments in life are a true crossroads, where you can literally peer down different paths and see how the future will likely unfold based on a single decision or event.  Peace Corps as an organization must realize the power of these events because it seems like once you hit the send button on your electronic application you are subject to one every other week. 

The majority of the day was a typical site visit but we sat through each presentation or session with the impatience of children, only one thing on our collective minds.  Safety and security session, medical session (one of my favorites, our Medical Officer has an amazing balance of humor and knowledge that allows her to talk about chronic diarrhea, snake bites and skin irritations in the most comical ways), lunch, etc…but early in the afternoon we gathered in our main meeting room to see where everyone would end up.  The staff had outlined a giant map of Cambodia in tape on the ground with flags to mark the possible sites for the sixty of us PCTs. 

I must admit, this was an exciting way to approach a potentially frightening day.  As each PCTs name was called, the rest of us cheered and shouted them on as they walked to the location of their site on the map.  I think it was this event that made me realize the strong bonds I had developed with so many of my fellow trainees – I think something happens when you are with a group of such like-minded people serving a higher cause than yourself.  Over the past two months we have all experienced many of the same bitter frustrations, sweetest of joys, and identical WTF moments.  We had only each other to lean on through all of this and the experience has tempered incredibly deep friendships already. 

When we suddenly found out in which part of Cambodia we would be in and where our site would be I was excited to learn that we wouldn’t be going far from our training village and will be serving in a nearby provincial town where Kate will be “teaching teachers” at a Regional Teacher Training Center (RTTC) and I will be teaching English at the high school.  From a work perspective, one of the best aspects of our new community is the high density of NGOs and community programs that Kate and I will have the chance to become involved with for our secondary projects. 

The day following our site announcements everyone needed to get to Phnom Penh in order to then ship out to their respective provincial towns, and from them, catch more specialized transportation to their individual sites.  Kate and I were two of six trainees that didn’t need to go anywhere, as we were already in our province and therefore didn't need to travel through PP to get to our sites.  So we spent the day beginning to survey the town in more detail and took part of the day to relax and unwind in what would soon be our new home. 

It wasn’t until the next day that we found out that there was a problem with what was identified as our new permanent home.  In Cambodia, PCVs stay almost exclusively with host families, often living in the family’s spare room or in a smaller building within the family’s compound adjacent to the main building.  Since we are serving as a married couple, Peace Corps typically tries to find a living situation for couples that allows for a bit more privacy and independence than what is typical for the average single volunteer.  Often times this means that couples get their own bathroom, kitchen and sometimes even their own separate house entirely.  At our training site, we had a building to ourselves with a bathroom and bedroom to call our own but relied solely on our family for meals and any other necessities. 

We were invited along with the PC Staff to look at what was identified as our new home.  It was the upper floor of a small family’s house and Peace Corps had negotiated that Kate and I would have the use of the entire floor as our own apartment-like setup.  To leave out some of the gory negotiation details that followed, Kate and I left that house agreeing with the PC staff that both the family and their accommodations would not be a good fit for us for a variety of reasons.  In retrospect, we are incredibly grateful to the staff at PC who helped us navigate this, if not for them we would not have ended up in “our house.” 

The second house, which would end up being our home, was a separate building on the property of a medium-sized family of six.  There was nothing further to be desired from this house – running water, electricity, several appliances already ready for our use (including a refrigerator, small TV and even a washing machine…).  The family was simultaneously welcoming, lively and generous – we were later told that we were not the first set of PCVs to live here – and we immediately recognized them as our new family.  The front yard had several of the fruit trees we had become used to at our training site, the location of the house was close to the smaller of two markets within the town limits and is only about three blocks away from a large estuary that feeds into one of Cambodia’s major rivers.  In many ways, our new living situation is perhaps the best of all worlds – a rural feel with some of the conveniences offered by a provincial town, privacy from the center of the town but close access to many different people and organizations and the luxury of being able to cook for ourselves and live privately while also having a close proximity to a great family.  Truth be told, I am almost a little embarrassed around my fellow trainees that our situation is as great as it is. 

I think my biggest disappointment is entirely self-inflicted – in many ways this reality is a far cry from the perceived image of what I imagined my Peace Corps service to be.  It is hard not to form an image of what you will be doing for two years; I had built up an image of hardship service in the middle of nowhere.  I assumed that my MacGuyver-like skills and willingness to wrestle snakes before bedtime meant that this is where I would end up for my Peace Corps service.  BUT…this is where Kate and I are needed most; there is important work for us to do here, only I may end up doing it in slacks and at the front of a classroom instead of hiking boots and in six-inch deep mud.   

The Rat (Part II)

***A note on the pictures and some content in this post...they are a bit graphic and show a dead rat...my wife also gets the photo credits.

I knew it was only a matter of time before the rat had time to reconnoiter and plan a counter offensive.  For a week after our last encounter, I had been going over battle drills and preemptive strike scenarios until I ceased to see Kate's water bottle as only that, instead seeing a bludgeon that may be my only weapon in reach; instead of a shirt I saw a net to snare the beast in...my mind thought only of revenge.  This creature was the whale to my Ahab, the Roadrunner to my Coyote, and the french fries to my fat kid.  It was going to end one of two ways - with his gruesome death or my cowardly shrieking and asking for help from my host grandma.

Let me, once again, set the stage for what would prove to be our final encounter.  It was again dark, but this time it was also stormy.  The rain came down in sheets and Kate and I comfortably sat inside our home doing nothing in particular but otherwise enjoying a calm and romantic evening listening to the rain.  He chose this time, the bastard, when I was most off guard to launch his attack.

The rain had forced him to enter from the roof, which is not entirely connected to the walls of our house, but has room in between to allow for air flow and ventilation.  The rat seemed to repel down the wall with a quick and stealthy scamper.  Our only indication of his entry was when he landed on our metal trunk that is issued by the Peace Corps.  Kate and I sprung to our feet knowing that our outer defenses were penetrated.  The riot gear and tear gas canisters I had ordered off of Amazon.com would not arrive for a few more days, so I was forced to improvise.  Taking advantage of the rat's momentarily weariness from his rough landing near the trunk, I surveyed the surrounding landscape thinking of how I might vanquish him.

After a split second, I decided to try and trap him much as I had before, by pinning him with the trunk against the wall.  But this time, learning from my previous errors, I moved the other trunk into position to first cage him and then dole out the death blow.  As before, when I caged him against the wall using the trunks he tried to jump out of my trap - while he succeeded with ease last time, this time he could not make it and I knew that I had finally caught him.

A morale question quickly arose in my mind - could I actually do it?  Would I be able to destroy the creature?  After all, I am generally a pacifist and fairly easy going person and really don't ever wish to harm a thing.  After quickly weighing the pros and cons, I made my decision - he wasn't walking out of here again to eat my food, make scary noises at night, and poop on my floor.

***This next part is actually kind of gruesome...be warned***

I gave the rat a very small space to run along the wall being careful to not give him a full opening to freedom.  Once I saw that he took the bait and tried to escape, I ended the life of my greatest foe to date.

I quickly moved the trunk back flush against the wall, knowing that the rat was trapped between. As he tried to struggle out I waited until it was only his head left between the trunk and the wall (I did this out of mercy, I wanted it to be quick for him).  What came next was a quick shove of the trunk and a small squeak, as I carried out my opponent's sentence and saluted his spirit and ingenuity.

Of course, he was honored with a proper burial with full honors (I tossed him in our front yard and I think a wild dog got to him by morning...).  My sincerest hope is that this will stand as a warning to future rodents wanting to terrorize myself and my wife.

In all honesty, I have a dreadful fear of rats and while I may get a letter from PITA about this blog post, it took a lot for me to confront it (twice).  I am joking a lot but I really hate to kill anything - but this had to happen, and may again while in Cambodia.  Keeping our house pest free, whether they be snakes, lizards, bugs or rodents is something that is important for our general health and sanitation at home.  It is interesting to know that many of our live-in guests - like the small geckos on the walls or larger lizards - eat many of the other rodents and themselves are harmless to us.  I draw the line at rats though.

An update

There are always so many things to talk about that it is difficult to know where to begin when I sit down to blog.  Each day, Kate and I have random encounters and mind-altering experiences that make our lives in America seem truly dull (and they were).

Simple things like going to bed under mosquito netting (after removing the foot-long lizards from the outside of our net) each night, biking to classes every day on one of Cambodia's busiest roads, or teaching a class of Cambodian students or teachers provides input to ponder for hours.

For the most part, our lives are fairly static from a week to week perspective.  We either teach or study every day for eight hours, taking a few hours break during the sweltering mid-day heat to go home, shower, eat with our family, study and rest.  We ride our bikes everyday, typically around 10k or more, down red dirt roads like the one we live on and on National Highway Number 3, which is just about 200 meters from our house.  Sunday is our day off, and typically reserved for trying to find American food, socializing with other PCTs by playing volleyball or something, studying, cleaning, and of course...doing laundry.

Laundry is one of the biggest things that makes me realize I am not in Kansas (or Maryland) anymore.  Here is how it work:
1. Realize that I have too few clean clothes left and tell myself to do laundry
2. Nap instead because its hot - tell myself to do laundry on Sunday (wear smelly clothes the rest of the week)
3. Wake up early on Sunday and realize I need to do laundry or continue to smell like a foot
4. Do laundry: get the large metal laundry bowl, fill with water from our rainwater cistern that is usually crawling with giant red ants (they bite with their pincers, they don't sting like the smaller ones)
5. Put in soap and soak first batch of clothes in soapy water then scrub and squeeze clothes for a few minutes
6. Rinse in a separate bucket of clean water until the soap is out - by this time you will be very wet, a combination of sweat and dirty laundry water.  Be advised, ants seem to like this better and may begin biting you now.
7. Soak back in first bowl which of course you remembered to empty and refill with clean water and fabric softener, else your clothes will smell terrible even though you just washed them
8.  Wring clothes out A LOT or else they won't dry and might mold over
9. Lay out on fence to dry, being careful to avoid the small red ants (that sting)
10. Repeat until no more dirty clothes
11. Enjoy the rest of your day
5 hours later
12. Freak out when you are playing volley ball when it starts to downpour and know that your clothes are still outside
13. Come home, thank host sister for bringing in your clothes
14. Realize clothes are still wet
15. Rig up high-tech MacGiver clothesline system in house because its still raining
16. Wait two days until dry...
17. Realize it took too long to dry your clothes and they now smell like mold
18. See step 1

Needless to say, I won't be complaining about doing laundry in the US ever again.


This week also marks our midway point of PST.  We are halfway done with what we are told is the most grueling part of the Peace Corps experience.  Next Saturday we will find out our permanent sites - where we will be the next two years - and almost immediately thereafter leave to visit them individually.  We will regroup together in Phnom Penh for a night.  Kate and I are already planning on gorging on Western food whilst there, as well as hitting up the grocery store for some essentials during the last month of PST.


ALSO!  Thanks to Mama Watts for the care package!  We have been enjoying several jars of peanut butter this week as well as some other goodies.  Just in case anyone is wondering....you can find the address of where to send letter or packages to us on Kate's blog, but here it is:

PCT Chris Marsh
Peace Corps

P.O. Box 2453
Phnom Penh 3
Cambodia - US Embassy
Asia

I know the "Asia" part at the end seems a bit much, but we have heard stories of packages going to Columbia or Cameroon as Cambodia is not the most well-known country in the world. Also, make sure the declared value is VERY low or else someone might go through it and we are also charged a fee based on that amount here. The flat rate international boxes are not overly expensive and you can make those as heavy as you want.

Just in case you are wondering (further)...a running list of things that we would love to see when opening up a package might include:
-Candy from the states (usually hard or individually wrapped candy is best because of the heat and long journey of the package, we are not above eating melted chocolate though, just be sure to put it in a bag)
-Nutella (lack of chocolate here is astounding, but this stuff won't melt/spoil)
-Seasoning packets (we will be cooking on our own soon and want to stock up on some things that taste not like rice...like taco or faijita seasonings...etc.)
-Individual drink packets - crystal light or any kind of tea in those packets are great!
-A decent pack of pens
-Crackers like wheat thins or whatever...
-Granola bars, Cliff bars, fruit snacks...all are craved
-Marconi and cheese...that would rock...
-Dr. Bromners peppermint soap - so good for so much here, just be sure to put it in a bag and duct tape the top in case it leaks
-Also, for me, undershirts are a lifesaver with all the sweating, any kind will work and typically a medium fits me
-It would help to pack things in sealable plastic bags or hand towels as both are needed here
-Anything else you are so kind enough to want to send...

I have not written much about the food yet, so I wanted to write something in this update.  We eat with our host family almost every lunch and dinner.  We get breakfast on our own before classes.  Typically lunch and dinner consist of similar kinds of foods - our family knows what we like so they cook us all kinds of pork , beef, chicken (our favorite here, but very expensive), and fish dishes - they are usually with many other veggies or in a soup of some kind.  Did I mention rice?  We eat that a lot...rice in Cambodia is pretty much tantamount to Jesus Christ in the Vatican...its really popular.  Our family, and in particular our host sister, cooks amazing foods that we eat happily every day.  A few curve balls are sauteed ants and frog dishes that we get with some regularity.  I like both, but the frog is great - identical to chicken except for the bones which you need to spit out constantly.  They even gave us stuffed frog one night that had chopped up frog, curry and veggies all ground up - it was just heavenly (I know it sounds odd or even repulsive, but it makes my mouth water...).  Own family also gives us fruit after almost each meal, which is just awesome.  It has become a running joke in our house to give Kate bananas (because she hates them, but ate them out of respect at first) and watch her say how full she is and can't eat anymore - our sister loves this.

On our own at restaurants, we order noodles a lot to change it up from the rice.  For breakfast we have a few options - when we have time, we go to the market and grab a bowl of noodles with pork, a fried potato muffin that has veggies and meat inside, or a sticky rice and sugary crepe that my friend Kelly (thanks!) turned me on to.  The market atmosphere is really bustling in the morning - since few people here have electricity, let alone refrigerators, all food is usually bought and prepared the same day you eat it.  That means that you need to go to the market every morning and only buy what you need for that day.  This is fantastic for freshness, but not so much for convenience.

Just this weekend we have had some real treats.  Saturday night our training village all got together to make an American meal - pasta with homemade red sauce, garlic BREAD and grilled ribs were on the menu.  You will never see 24 happier people than we were that night.  The food was amazing, but the occasion allowed us all a chance to unwind, relax, laugh and be with the people that have become nearly family to us.  It was my favorite night in Cambodia so far.

Today we were treated again by a friend in a neighboring village who made some fantastic Jambalaya.  The dedication of this guy to bring his cajun spices all the way to Cambodia and cook for us is commendable and totally delectable.  Thanks, Ace!!

Well that about covers my fairly extensive update.  Look out for my exciting conclusion to The Rat Saga later this week!

The Coming of the King/Why We Teach (English)

I am currently four days deep into our six-day practicum week, practicing teaching English to a real, live Cambodian class.  While there have been frustrating moments, I view the week as a huge success so far as I am concerned.  I have been in front of my class about four times now and have enjoyed every moment. 

We all work in groups of three Peace Corps Trainees - all of us newly-minted and greenhorn English teachers.  We are only midway through our Pre-Service Training, so this is the time that we begin to use some of the teaching tactics and strategies to see what works, what doesn't and what will cause your kids to laugh at you for minutes on end in a standard Cambodian classroom. 

It can't be mentioned enough, I am working with some of Peace Corps' finest future teachers - Libby and Gilbert - thanks to you both for a fantastic and smooth (so far, knock on wood, throw salt over your shoulder, hit the light switch three times) week.  We are teaching an "English Crash Course" focusing on some of the basics, but really just "testing" our methods out on these amazingly bright and eager kids.  The feedback we have gotten from current PCVs doing the job that we will be soon has been invaluable, but more so is the chance to get in front of a class and just start teaching (finally).

Today was a pretty big day for us PCTs, as well as for our school, as the King of Cambodia drove by our school, waving out the top of an SUV.  I should disclaim, this isn't a HUGE deal, and probably made us PCTs more excited than the rest of the school.  Cambodia is about the size of Minnesota, so whenever the King travels he tries to "greet his people."  Also, there are only like eight paved roads in Cambodia, so he is bound to pass you by a few times a year. 

As our school emptied, students and staff lined the highway (yes, kids on a highway is usually a bad idea, but not so irregular in Cambodia...) with pictures of the King and waved Cambodia flags as his motorcade drove by.  My kids noticed, what I am told, is my huge resemblance to the King on day one of teaching them, and ever since we found out that the King was driving by they couldn't help but hold up his picture next to my face to compare.  I have to admit, at one point I had delusions of grandeur that the King would see me waving to him as he drove by, stop the car, and recognize me as the American brother he never knew - but it wasn't meant to be (though I am fairly sure that our eyes locked as he drove by, and that we shared something beyond words...). 

I can't say how rewarding and educational this week has been so far with still a few more days left to go.  I hope it is a sign of things to come, but the reality is that many Cambodia classrooms are in terrible shape, students are taught by and large by teachers who are ill-trained and unmotivated, and often times they have difficulty learning due to hunger or a lack of materials and supplies.  Many of the students I have taught this week speak English fairly well already and we know they are eager to learn as PC asked the community for volunteers since school is out of session this time of year. 

All this rambling brings me to my point: the Peace Corps' mission in Cambodia is a valid and difficult one.  I am not tooting my own horn nor am I commenting on the politics of how well Peace Corps does or doesn't do their work in a larger sense.  I want to point out the difficulties and need in what will soon be a tiny sliver of the world that I feel partially responsible for in some way.  Cambodia is a nation that is still trying to gain its footing after a decimating civil war/genocide in the 1970s and is simultaneously trying to compete against some of Asia's biggest rising (economic) powers like Singapore, Thailand and Vietnam.  As my grandma always says, "Education is the great equalizer," and thus the Peace Corps is here. 

Teaching English abroad may be some backpackers' wet dream for a "true cultural experience."  It is a way, for some, to put in a small effort teaching a skill they are already masters of to others who need those language skills to acquire better jobs, make more money, etc. Its a way for someone to say, "I did this, I helped and I have pictures to prove it," without giving too much thought to what happens next to the community you just helped.  It automatically makes you "worldly." I am not criticizing, help is help for those that need it. 

The way Peace Corps does it, is to not simply turn us loose upon the poor Cambodian masses and start getting them to pronounce the "th" sound (its really hard for them!), but to give us the tools, methods, language and cultural experience to become fully integrated members of our communities, to identify their problems and provide sustained and lasting help as one of them.  Teaching English opens doors for many, many students in Cambodia, and not necessarily for all the reasons one might guess.  Yes, many English speakers in this country strive to be tour guides or interpreters for rich American companies and the like.  However, the native language here, K'mai, is spoken by a very small minority of the world.  Combine this with the mass killings of Cambodia's intellectual class by the K'mai Rouge and you have a wayward, starving country that then must rebuild itself and compete with the world without the help of its best and brightest.  Beyond this, after the K'mai Rouge, Cambodia had no way of educating its youngest generation in specialized skills as the majority of its teachers and intellectuals were also killed.  English then, becomes a bridge for higher learning for many Cambodians.  If you want to be a doctor, lawyer or virtually any other kind of professional, you need to speak English (ok, ok I hear the anti-imperialists...English OR another highly used language like Chinese or French...) to be able to learn and acquire the necessary skills to practice your trade.  "Just teaching English" then becomes the ladder to the next level for many young, bright Cambodians and may give this country more of an edge to compete against other nations and forger a better future for itself. 

So for all you Peace Corps/English Teacher naysayers, here is a point for the good guys, and hopefully makes some folks understand why I want to be here and why I am really excited to start doing my job. 

The Rat

I don't claim to be a tough guy or superhero, despite my constant joking claims that I am, in fact, Batman. However, there are few things that truly frighten or scare me.  Bugs, thrill seeking sports, heights, snakes...even commitment, I can handle.  Rats are one of the only things that really makes my spine tingle and palms sweat.

If you have ever read Orwell's 1984, you might recall a scene where the main character is led to a torture room, "Room 101," where he is made to confess to a crime he did not commit.  The torturers know everything about the character, including his worst fear: rats. When I read this scene I immediately realized that I shared the same "Room 101" with the character.  When I read further about how the torturers strapped a cage to his face so that the rats could nibble at his vital bits freely, I came forever to the anti-torture side of the torture debate. 

I needed to give you that insight before plunging into my latest and perhaps most terrifying story since being in country.

One very dark night...its always very dark for stories like these...I was happily enjoying my evening in bed under mosquito netting.  I was reading a book with my headlamp on and my wife laying next to me doing the same. Since I have an old-man-bladder, I had to pee about twenty minutes after I had gotten into bed.  This is a terrible hassle for me after it takes about ten minutes to get into bed, cooled off and cozy.  It never fails that once I am all tucked in and ready to fall asleep to the caccophany of frogs croaking and dogs barking outside I develop the urge to pee.  Now, getting out of bed here is not exactly the same as when I am at my home in the US...there I just throw the covers off, step onto the knowingly bug-free, plush carpeted floor, and stroll through my air conditioned home to my bathroom (which has indoor plumbing and toilet paper).  Nothing about this scenario matches with its Cambodian counterpart.  

First, I must quickly untuck a portion of the mosquito netting from under the mattress in order to exhume myself from the bed.  I am careful to tuck in the net once outside to avoid a chiding from my wife about letting disease-laced bugs come into the lone sanctuary of our bug-free bed.  I am sure to grab a flashlight as it is pitch dark and my bathroom has no running water, so I must be able to see what I am doing to pour water down the drain to ""flush."

On this particular evening, I grabbed my flashlight on my way out of the bedroom and turned it on before opening the door to our larger living area which I needed to cross in order to get to the bathroom.  When I opened the door I heard a distinct scuffling from where we typically store our books and some snacks by the front door.  I  whipped my flashlight around thinking it was one of the larger, but albeit harmless, geckos that live in our house.  Instead, my eyes focused on the distinct image of a medium sized rat who was now frozen from the beam of my flashlight.  I freaked the hell out.

I walked back into the bedroom to tell my wife, who I knew would identitfy with my current level of fear - after all this is the same woman (who loves me, remind you) that would grab the stuffed animal rats at Ikea and pretend that they were scurring up my back to ban vanquish this beast for me.

Her response was less than comforting, "Oh my god - really?!  I am really freaked out right now. What are you going to do?"

In retrospect, I see the humor.  In the moment, I felt like my fellow soldiers had just left me behind enemy lines.

After the initial fear that encircled me when Kate told me that she was staying put behind the mosquito-net-forcefield, I took a deep breath, hiked my boxer briefs up in a show of pride and responded to her, "I'm going to kill the bastard."

(*Note, my words may have been different, and I can't fully remember the seaquence of events, what is important to remember is that I definately did NOT cry, and I certainly did NOT urinate on myself.)

I located a sturdy weapon with which to vanquish my toothy-long-tailed-foe: an electrified raquet we use to bug-zap mosquitos.  I was pretty sure the voltage was not strong enough to kill a rat of this size, but I hoped that the raquet itself would do as a bludgeon.  To paint the picture: I was in my boxer briefs, croutched in an army-like position holding a flashlight in one hand and the electrified raquet in the other.  I also had my headlamp on for added visibility and coolness. By this time, fear and the stiffiling heat meant that I was a sweatty mess and literally dripping, but God did I feel alive...

The rat had entrenched him or herself under the day bed in our main room and that was where I decided to fight my first battle of the evening.  I lunged at the beast, ensuring to shine my light on his face to stun it like before, but the creature was ready for me and narrowly escaped my first salvo.  It ran along the walls of the room for cover, me running after it and alternating between highly intimidating and inapporpiate swears and noises that a four-year-old girl with pigtails might make if she were to scrape her knee. 

The beast finally ran behind my Peace Corps issued trunk - a fatally-flawed move- and I reacted with the instincts of a cat and the speed of a ninja.  Shoving the trunk againt the wall, I pinned the beast in what should have been his deathbed.  As I drew nearer to crush him between the wall and the trunk, the brute jumped over the chest and ran straight into our bedroom, under our bed.  The clever beast had outwitted me in a brillant showing of strategy and cunning that Sun T'zu could scarcely have avoided. 

I should also mention at this point that my trusty sidearm had failed me - when I went to strike at it, the handle of the raquet broke from the rest of it and skittered away out of reach.  I realized that I may have to settle for a draw on the evening and began rooting out the beast from its new encampment - I was urged on by my steadfast wife yelling encouraging slogans and words of praise, "OH MY GOD OH MY GOD - IT CAME IN HERE!!  GET. IT. OUT. CHRIS-GETITOUT!!!" (Those of you who know my wife know that I cleaned up that dialogue a bit - I wanted to keep this a PG blog posting).

I had him on the run again and saw him run 'round behind me - he was trying to flank me yet again - only this time I was ready and I had arranged the furniture to funnel him out of our bedroom and back into the main room.  It was there that I lost him, presumably he fled, realizing the equal in his foe and the inevitable stalemate that would ultimately ensue. 

Plans are currently underway to trap and destroy the beast - I have become consumed with hatred and revenge for his atrocities and am considering the use of weapons of mass destruction.  Stay tuned...

Welcome To The Family

Hello all! 

I am writing to you all from under my mosquito net in bed with a cold.  After over three weeks in Cambodia my body has finally succumbed to the assault on it by foreign germs and the drastic changes to my environment.  Unfortunately I was not well enough to go to my language and technical training sessions today, but happily Kate’s computer was close enough to reach from the bed to hijack for a few minutes. 

Its hard to “catch you up” on what has been going on for me over the past few weeks, but I will try to hit most of the high (and low) points. 

When we first arrived in country, we had a few days to get acclimated to our new environment as well as the climate of a volunteer’s life that Peace Corps Cambodia helps to set.  After those precious few honeymoon days of air conditioning, Wifi hotel rooms and the relatively cosmopolitan feel (and cuisine) of Phnom Penh, we were shipped out to our more rural and decidedly more Cambodian-feeling training province.  After only four nights there it was time to meet our host families and break up into even smaller training groups that were based mostly on what you would be doing in Cambodia for the next two years. 

Kate and I are both education volunteers – specifically she will be focused on training Cambodian (or K’mai – this is actually how the term “Khmer” is pronounced and is used when referencing Cambodia’s language, people and overall cultural institutions) teachers to be effective English teachers.  My job is to teach English alongside a HCN (or host country national for those not yet fluent in Peace Corps jargon) and to work on or establish various youth development projects as those needs present themselves to me over my two years of service.  To that end, approximately one half of our PST (or pre-service training) over the next two months will help us to become familiar with teaching practices and the educational system and nuances in Cambodia.  The second half of our PST focuses on language skills and cultural immersion, to which having and living with a host family plays a very large role.

Our host family is small and unique in comparison to our fellow PCTs (Peace Corps trainees, we are not officially sworn in until we complete PST – you follow?).  At the heart of our family is our “yea” or grandmother.  She has an older grandson who occasionally stays with us when not in Phnom Penh on our small “farm” that mainly cultivates rice in the paddies that surround our home.  We also have a sister, though the relationship to our grandmother is somewhat unclear, if indeed there is actually a familial relationship at all.  We do know that the majority of her immediate family lives just next door, but that our sister, named “Mom” (pronounced “mum” - try to keep up) is basically here to cook for us and tend to other jobs that our yea can no longer do...which really isn't much, she has got to be about 75 or 80 and I saw her pull out a huge clump of weeds the other day that I know would have given me issues - I also recently saw her walking to our fence with a handheld hoe in her hands to do who knows what.  These two ladies are both very sweet to us and cook incredible K’mai dishes that include tons of local veggies, fish, pork, beef, chicken (less frequently as it is expensive here) and the occasional oddball dish like fried ants or chopped up frogs.  I should say for the record that I have not had a meal here that I have really disliked.  Everything is served with rice in Cambodia, so we always must eat our food atop loads of white rice. 

During dinner on our first night with our new family, my host brother who speaks a little English, told me that after meeting my family and a few of the neighbors, my yea and her friend (we call yea 2) each ran over to each others’ house to tell the other that I bore a striking resemblance to the current King of Cambodia.  At first I was honored and touched that they were giving me such a lofty compliment so soon after meeting.  After some more broken English from our brother, I realized though, that the main reason I looked like this King Sihamoni, was because we share a similar balding pattern.  Oddly enough, I felt even more at home that my new family, much like my actual family, would make open jokes about my baldness.  I knew that this would be a good home and family for as long as we would be able to stay here. 

Kate and I live in a more remote part of the town/village than do many other PCTs, so we bike to our language and technical classes twice a day each is about a 4km round trip.  We often ride to children yelling “hello” or “what is your name?” – the extent of the English training that they have reached all the more reinforcing the need for Peace Corps volunteers to teach English.  I will try to write a post specifically about our “mission” here soon. 

One of my favorite stories so far involves this very phenomenon.  As Kate and I were riding home one evening, we passed a home that always has about three or four younger children playing out front, they always see us and they always yell to us, seemingly hoping to get a “hello” back from us in either English or K’mai.  On this particular night, however, one of the younger boys was relieving himself on the side of the road, as K’mai boys –young or old – often do.  Kate rode by first waving and yelling hello back.  As I watched I noticed that we caught the little peeing boy off guard so that by the time Kate had passed and I was just next to him he was so excited to see us that he whipped around to ensure that his “hello!” was also counted.  Understandably, he lost all track of his previous task and while turning, continued to pee in a 360-degree arc around himself, spraying himself, the girl next to him and anything else within range of his stream in the process.

Our house itself is pretty plush by K’Mai standards.  We have three rooms to ourselves – a large main room where we keep our things and have a small desk, a bedroom and a bathroom to ourselves.  A disclaimer though: bathrooms here are not what you might think.  Most bathrooms here have squat toilets, often a glorified term for “holes in the ground,” I’ll let you make your own mental pictures.  Often there is no shower, but a cistern that holds a hundred or more gallons of water that is used for showering and flushing via a bucket.  We lucked out and have a “Western” style toilet that you can sit on, but we have no running water, so we still flush by pouring water in after our business has been done.  We shower simply by pouring the often cold water over our heads and bodies and since we have no running water, we use mostly rain water collected by various apertures around the house that funnel into our cisterns and central holding containers.  We use the same water to drink, though only after we disinfect it with bleach to kill viruses and bacteria and filter it through a world-class (when it works correctly) water filtration system.  We have electricity to a minimal extent, but no AC or anything like that.  Our home is very open so mosquitoes and other bugs can come freely in through the windows or open vents in the walls – we sleep under mosquito netting each night.  We also have other roommates like the two-foot blue and orange gecko living in our foyer, smaller geckos that eat the bugs (so they live rent free) as well as some other more unwanted pests that have giving way to some memorable stories.  (See my upcoming post “The Rat” for more details.)  

Beyond these amazing new memories and, now, commonplace happenings around our new home, our lives are beginning to resemble something of a familiar routine.  We wake up early (though not as early as at first when we were unused to the rooster crowing at 4:30am) and usually begin our day by going to the market or a local restaurant for  a quick breakfast.  Breakfast is the only meal we do not eat with our host family as it is not a part of the contract Peace Corps negotiates with them and allows us the freedom to sleep in somewhat and eat what we please, though its usually still rice.  We go to classes in the morning and afternoons and come home for a shower, some lunch (and sometimes a nap if its really hot!), and some study in between the four-hour language and technical sessions.  At night we sometimes linger with other PCTs in the heart of the town to grab a snack and talk before coming home for dinner at six with the family.  Cambodia is no stranger to snack foods of all kinds.  I have already established myself as a loyal customer of the “fried banana lady” who now tends to give me a few free pieces of friend potato when I buy from her.  There are also tuk-luks, or smoothies that are blended with your choices of fruit, sweetened condensed milk and ice – so refreshing after a day with full humidity in the high 90s.  I have also tried the friend crickets that taste just like a crunchy piece of fried-ness, with maybe a slightly earthy or nutty flavor.  Kate and I have also drunk our fair share of the K'mai equivalent to Starbucks: strong instant coffee with a few tablespoons of sweetened condensed milk and sugar over ice…another great way to beat the heat while simultaneously earning countless new cavities. 

Anyhow, I plan to keep up the writing as often as I have something to talk about – I welcome comments and questions if you have them.  I’ll leave you with this – my first impression of the K’mai people are that they are a generally friendly sort that are as likely to regard an American as a celebrity as they would be to invite them into their home for dinner.  While the darker sides are most certainly present, as is the case with all peoples, it would be a hard case to make to say that Americans and Cambodians are so different that we should ignore one another or not help each other when one has the need and the other the means to assist.  I am excited to serve Cambodia, and my own country, while here to my fullest effort, but I am also truly excited that I get to teach our K’mai brethren about America and in turn, to teach anyone interested and reading my blog a little bit about the K’mai. 

The Similarities (and differences)

So we are just starting Day 3 in coutry, and so far things are pretty great.  We have been in Phnom Penh for the past 48 hours and have gotten a taste of both the Cambodian and, via two straight days of informational sessions and orientation fairs, Peace Corps life (though we are constantly told that Phnom Penh is not the “real Cambodia”). 

Today we are heading out to the countryside to a smaller grouping of villages where we will begin our nine weeks of language, technical, cultural, health and security training.  All of the training is hands on and immersion based – if anyone has ever learned a language, you will know how easy it is to switch back and forth from English and your new language rather easily.  That is somewhat of a hindrance to the learning process since once we learn a new word, if we don’t constantly use it and ingrain it in our minds, it is easily lost or at least difficult to recall in normal speech.  So it is sink or swim time – or as one of our PC leaders told us – we will be trying to take a drink from a fire hose of information.

Already we have been told loads of information, keeping up is the only hard part.  After our first week of training I am sure we will really begin to feel overwhelmed. 

Its hard to pick out any tidbits to really illustrate this place right now – Phnom Penh is similar to some Asia cities I have visited – Hanoi, Beijing – but completely different otherwise.  On one hand you have the chaos that is transportation, almost literally the lifeblood of the city.  There is a constant pumping of motor scooters (motos), three-wheeled taxis (tuk tuks), cars, and human traffic through all streets virtually at all hours.  Honking is done not as a way to make yourself visible or vent your frustration as is the case back home on the 495 Beltway, rather from my estimations, it seems that honking is a kind of game: once one person honks for some indiscriminate reason, others view it as a challenge and then try to “keep the honk alive” for as long as possible.  This results in a kind of “sonor honk” that allows one to be aware of all of the passing traffic and simultaneously be confused as to why your sense of hearing is totally blinded. 

Crossing the street in places like this can be fun, but ultimately dangerous.  It is better to wade into the busy streets slowly, like going into a cold river.  You need to let the people on vehicles know your intent soon enough for them to react.  Darting is not advised, as it catches everyone off guard.  If you go slowly enough, everyone usually just goes around the pedestrian without incident.  It takes balls though…

Add to this, if you will, a variable smorgasbord of smells – some truly tantalizing and some absolutely frightening.  Cambodia is currently in the wet/rainy season now, so rain every day is not uncommon.  Not all day mind you, it still gets warm (read: sweltering, hot, sticky mess) throughout the day, but in the later afternoon and evening, showers have passed through to cool things down.  The smell of that first few minutes of rain makes me miss everything good and comforting in the world – it makes you feel like the dirt and sweat from the day is being washed away clean and that anything could happen.  Add to this the smells of grilled meats and freshly cooking rice for evening meals and you really feel like you are in a place that feels like home, or at least homey, amidst the chaos. 

With the good comes the bad, and especially in the constant heat here comes smells of spoiling food, endless clouds of vehicle exhaust, the constant reminder of inadequate bathroom facilities and dishes cooking that, right now, smell so foreign to us they are repulsive.  All of this probably paints a picture to those back home of a place so bizarre and different that it is difficult to comprehend.  I assure you though, in the end, a city is a city is a city.  People still live here, they take their kids to school (though they may be balanced five wide on a single motorcycle), they eat their daily meals and they go to work.  It is so easy to get caught up in the differences of a new place that they overshadow the similarities, which are always and inevitably stronger.  Perhaps this is a good place to stop rambling as I think it is the similarities between people and places that has made us all want to come here (maybe not here exactly, but abroad) to serve our fellow man.

Apologies and Almost to Cambodia!

Ok – so I warned everyone reading this that I probably was not going to be consistent and that I was probably going to disappoint you with how little I wrote.  So really, you shouldn’t be disappointed at all, but rather pleased that I kept my promise of apathy and aloofness intact. 

Part of my reason/excuse for not writing is that I really did not feel that what I had to say over the past few months was worth putting out there.  I think I had a pretty similar experience to anyone who was planning on leaving the country for two years – it was hectic, I ate a lot of food that is terrible for me and I said goodbye with tears in my eyes more times than I care to admit. 

Nonetheless, that was then and this is now.  Over the past few days we have met our fellow Peace Corps Cambodia trainees in San Francisco and participated in (read: endured) a day of what I will refer to as pre-pre-Peace Corps training.  Basically, we all recalled the reasons and decisions behind joining the PC and recorded them for us to reflect on in about 12 months when we would surely be tested by the rigors of service.  Kate and I also had our “last meal” – a splurge at Whole Foods (thanks, Grandma!!) of a cacophony of different prepared foods, desserts and fruits and veggies that we may not get for a while.   We ate this, of course, on our hotel bed with only the titanium spoke I carry in my pack (as we were so excited for the food we forgot about utensils…details.) 

Kate and I, along with 60 other Peace Corps Cambodia trainees, are on our way to Cambodia!  After a grueling journey to Thailand (during which I made the mistake of doing the math and determining that I had gotten eight hours of sleep in the last 80) we are now about to board a plane to Cambodia.  When there, we are told that we will be touring part of the city and getting our vaccinations.  After a night’s stay, we will be on our way to Takeo – a training village where we will spend the next two or so months learning Khmer, being trained how to be effective teachers, learning security protocols, etc. 

To any friends and family reading this, your support and love over the past six months, and especially the past few weeks, have just been amazing.  We would not have been able to board all of our planes with smiles on our faces without your love and great sendoffs.  Thank you – and please keep an eye on Kate and my blogs for updates as much as possible!!!

More to come…

Conditioning for a 27 month, cross-country foot race

Almost two years ago, I got back on the workout wagon again pretty hardcore (for me).  I started running almost five days a week and hitting the gym pretty hard also.  My motivation, you ask?  Probably the best money can buy: my wedding.

Me admiring my wife's guns on our wedding day after months of hard workouts and very few ice cream runs. 

I don't think at that point I was out of shape, but I certainly was not of a shape I wished to be.  It felt like I was on that border land of fitness where, if apathetically left unchecked for another year or two, I would start to take on something in between a solid and liquid state.  That was not the person I felt I was.  I love to be outdoors, hike, swim, and just generally be physically capable.

After about eight months of diligent workouts and after work runs, I felt that I was in the best shape of my life.  I was running several miles a day with ease and even ran a race with a pretty respectable performance.  My general health improved and I was a happier person.

Over the past month or two, I have certainly slipped off the wagon a bit.  Warmer weather, daylight savings time and the fact that I am (good lord) four months away from my Peace Corps deployment date, have given me a renewed desire to hit the gym and my favorite running path.  The good news is that I have been running sporadically and still have maintained a bit of my endurance, but I have some work to do to get back to the wedding version of myself.

My question is this, what kind of conditioning do current PCVs and RPCVs recommend for entering service?  I mean this more from a general health standpoint rather than a workout guru approach.

The drastic change in lifestyle that the Peace Corps often necessitates has the potential to unleash the fury on the soft American's body.  While foreign foods, water, and bugs are really out of my control, there are ways to approach pre-PST conditioning in a way that I think will have a beneficial impact on my body's ability to not only adjust, but to endure.

From what I have read, the majority of people, unsurprisingly, loose weight while in the Peace Corps.  This is probably due to the increase in physical activity, lack of processed foods and constant ability to snack or overindulge and, of course, the diarrhea diet (I know that I sound like I know what I am talking about on this last one, but I know that I really have no concept of its decimating effects).  Malnutrition can certainly be an issue over time as well.

My basic workout philosophy has not really been to bulk up or focus too much on building a ridiculous amount of muscle so I look like this:


Rather, I try to find a balance of strength and cardio workouts that suits my body best, which is usually weighted in cardio over strength so I don't look like this:


With the Peace Corps now in sight, I am wondering if I should look to bulk up a bit more than my usual regimen.  I know some volunteers have expressed concerns over losing muscle mass due to lower protein diets and an inability to workout as much.  Perhaps getting a bit more beefcake beforehand would help curtail this?

Kate and I have also talked about getting into yoga and pilates a bit more in case our living situation in Cambodia would not really allow for daily workouts.

Do PCVs out there find themselves loosing too much weight or feeling like they wish that they had been a bit healthier when they were initially deployed?  Also, do host families and locals seem to find it really weird when you exercise or go for a run to the point that it makes you want to not exercise at site?

What I will miss most (#7)

Number seven on the list of what I will miss most while in the PC is my pup: Boomer.

For those of you who have been redirected from my wife's various blogs, you know all about Boomer and her...idiosyncrasies.  Boomer is a small, timid (putting it lightly - think a terrified soldier about to invade the beaches of Normandy) and adorable dog that Kate and I rescued about two years ago.

Boomer tolerating her Mrs. Clause outfit at Christmas - she almost seems normal here. 

Boomer is probably one of the best, and punny cases, of an underdog.  She is dopey, scared and a Disney-level archetype of a dog who is constantly checking around each corner and barking at nothing.  We are approximately her fifth family after her first home where she was born, the home where she was likely beaten and abused (goodness help the person who did this if they ever meet me or Kate), the pound where she was taken next (they were about three days away from euthanizing all the dogs there because the sick bastards needed to paint), the rescue family (a part of a FANTASTIC DC-based organization that ships dogs away from high-kill shelters to areas of "high pet need"), and finally to us.

First a rant: we got Boomer when she was about four months old and about about ten pounds soaking wet.  This means that whoever did these terrible things to her did them when she was even younger and smaller than that.  Few people can understand the motives of pet abusers, but I find this case particularly disturbing.  Boomer has not a violent bone in her body - at her most rambunctious she will jump up in your lap and with great subtlety (read: unabashed and overt head to hand butting) will ask for you to pet her.

Her biggest downfalls are her obvious and chronic nervousness: quick movements, noises, and aggressive human behavior make her very scared.  To me, these are the obvious signs of a young dog who was abused at a young age.  This endears Boomer to me most days and makes me want to spoil her, other days it makes me wish that my dog was the dog that she could and should have been without human violence.

Other days, Boomer does things to annoy me to the point where I consider a Dexter-styled doggie murder where I leave no evidence and have some witty line as I make the death blow (disclaimer: I would never hurt Boomer, its just a sick fantasy I have when cleaning up her "gifts.")

Just this week, Boomer decided to have three separate accidents indoors.  I truly thought we were past all this.  She is typically fantastic with regard to self control.  Kate and I work normal hours at our jobs for the most part, and she very rarely has accidents while we are at work.  However, just as I am knee deep in what is surely a condemning silent treatment to her while giving her a bath (again) after she just soiled herself out of fear, she does something cute like get bubbles in her nose and sneeze uncontrollably for about 30 seconds while shaking her head like its being attacked by ants.  Of course, the excessive noise she makes while doing this scares her even more and she growls for the next 30 seconds.

I don't know why some days, but I will miss this Charlie Brown Christmas Tree of a dog very much while we are away.  We are so fortunate that Kate's folks are willing and able to care for her while we are gone and continue to give her the second chance at life she really deserves.

I know I have been post-aloof lately, but I will try to keep it rolling again now.  Lots of research and video watching on Cambodia has inspired me with some new thoughts and ideas on approaching our new lives there.  Never before have I been this excited and ready for an adventure.

What I will miss most (#8)

Number eight on the list of things I will miss most while in the Peace Corps is actually a potpourri of three things - brewing and drinking beer, playing video games, and watching copious amounts of hockey - what I will hence refer to as my manfecta.

In the past year or so, I have taken up the hobby of brewing beer at home.  It began with a Christmas gift and has since exploded (sometimes literally) into a honest to goodness passion for me.  I love feeling like a mad scientist in my basement while I boil, ferment, and bottle up to five gallons of testosterone extract at a time.  The ability to add one type of hops over another or a different kind of grain here and there to totally change the flavor profile is exciting.  It makes me feel like anything in the world is possible...perhaps not, but I've made some really tasty brew.

A real good oatmeal stout: the reason we all have lips.  

Its a great hobby for me because, as you might have guessed, I also like to drink beer.  I am not what you might call an over-indulger, I just enjoy different kinds of beer (usually dark) and the cacophony of flavor promised by a great brew.  Kind of like a low class wine connoisseur.

I think I will miss the process of brewing beer - lining up the ingredients and tasting the progression of my beer - more than actually drinking it.  Its remarkable how satisfyingly stress relieving it is.

The second leg of my manfecta is video games.  I can't really sugar-coat this one to the rest of upstanding and decent society.  Let me preface this next part by saying that, I have undergraduate and graduate degrees that both focus on peace and conflict resolution.  However, I really really enjoy slaughtering zombies, robots, and anyone else who gets in my way when I am zoned out on my Xbox.  Listen, some people knit, some people enjoy collecting shot glasses and baby spoons, or emulating Martha Stewart...I kill zombies.


My thumbs will certainly miss my Xbox while I am in the PC.  And is it just pathetic that I am kind of bummed that I will miss some of the cool games that come out while I am gone?

The last element that makes up my holy manfecta is hockey.  There are a few reasons for this one.  First, professional sports teams in my area are not exactly in their prime.  Holding it down for us of late are the Washington Capitals - my team.  I love watching them play, they get me excited when they win, and I am bummed when they lose.  I love the physicality of the sport and how intensely the players work at each game, and the limitless strategies and tactics a coach can use to win a game.  The rivalries are great too.  The (usually) peaceful displays of team loyalty at games are exhilarating.  Goodness help the unsuspecting Cambodian who tells me they are a Pittsburgh Penguins fan - I will need to use all of my conflict resolution training on that one.

For all the uninitiated hockey fans out there - Ovechkin (on the right in RED) is way better than Crosby (left, in the urine colored jersey, also he is the one about to fall face-first onto the ice).  

My younger brother got me into hockey, and it continues to be a fun way for us to bond and get together.  I think missing hockey is also an extension of knowing how much I will miss my brother.  One positive there is that we will always have something to talk about through emails and phone calls, as I will want play-by-play updates of recent games and otherworldly Ovechkin goals.

Ok Cambodian PCVs - I need some alternatives to beer, video games and hockey while in country.  Whatcha got?