tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-74820244832807585832024-03-21T07:39:15.214-07:00Chris' Corps ChroniclesChrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01869647633208205867noreply@blogger.comBlogger36125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7482024483280758583.post-85404166608348115152012-02-06T07:05:00.000-08:002012-02-06T07:05:18.364-08:00Pic of the week - Cambodian U-HaulI have realized that after over six months in Cambodia, the amount of pictures I have taken is just dismally low. <br />
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Sometimes I think that not even pictures could capture the feelings in some of the more interesting moments here, and to an extent, I think thats true. But I need to make more of an effort to visually capture the good and bad, the funny and the sad and the daily and the extraordinary. If nothing else, I will want photographic evidence when I am explaining my PC stories to friends and family back home. <br />
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Therefore, I am going to try my damnedest to be consistent in taking and posting a new "special picture" every week. I try to include pictures in my normal blog posts when I can, but I am hoping that this weekly segment will encourage me to keep my camera at the ready so I can capture all those things I have been meaning to or wish that I had the chance to but my camera was out of reach. <br />
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Over the weekend, Kate and I visited our training village. It had been over two months since we last saw our training host grandma and she was so happy to see us. We bumped into a few other friends we had made in the town as well. It felt good to know those relationships didn't just disintegrate after we left.<br />
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Anyhow, on the 12k trip there, I came across this beauty. Not uncommon here, but still so amazing. I stopped my bike to snap a few shots. <br />
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The driver slowed down to say hi to me as he saw I was taking his picture, and the two guys riding on top were all to happy to smile and wave. <br />
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I have always hated moving day, but I guess I was just doing it wrong. <br />
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Despite the incredibly dangerous traffic hazard this could be, it shows a lot about Cambodian resourcefulness, their attitudes and lack of understanding about traffic safety and strong desire to get the job done in as few moves as possible. <br />
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Why take two cars when we can fit nine people in a Toyota Camery? Not a riddle and not a joke. I've been there...<br />
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<br />Chrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01869647633208205867noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7482024483280758583.post-62795331281252618752012-02-05T07:30:00.000-08:002012-02-05T07:30:17.956-08:00Spaghetti Dinner (Part 3)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Essentially, they loved it. </div>
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By they of course, I mean my family, and by it of course, I mean the delicious spaghetti I made for them. </div>
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While our host nephew decided against trying the food (he is really picky/spoiled), both the girls ate the pasta sans sauce (at least they tried it). </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Opting for rice over the (obviously) more delicious spaghetti <br />and homemade pasta sauce. He did, however, guzzle <br />down several glasses of Coke that we had brought. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Host nephew getting his come-uppins for being such a (cute) little snot. </td></tr>
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Our host mother, sister, brother and Khmer tutor ate numerous bowls of pasta and sauce - whether or not they were truly enjoying it or just being polite is something I will never know. </div>
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However, the dinner was full of laughs, talking about how much we were thankful for each other and of course, how delicious the food was. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our host mom and host sister chowing down on some spaghetti. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A family dinner, in every sense of the term. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kate and our Khmer tutor, Thany. She is pretty freakin' awesome. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An impromptu English study session during dinner. The highlight of our host <br />niece's reading is when she recites the alphabet, "A - apple, B - bird, C - cat..."</td></tr>
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My host brother had a wedding to attend while we ate, but he ended up making it home to try a bit of pasta and "ankoi lang" or literally translated, "sit-play." </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"> Host sister and host brother, husband and wife. </td></tr>
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I don't typically imbibe alcohol around the family - I don't want to give off a negative image that sometimes accompanies alcohol consumption in this country. But in this case, it was a celebratory event, my tutor and host mom were also kicking a few back, so I felt that it was appropro to have a cold brew with them. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Host niece and I goofin' around. I promise, she was not drinking beer. I was...</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One more...</td></tr>
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Happily, the evening was everything I had hoped for. While I have always felt very close to this family, showing them how much they meant to Kate and I seemed only natural and well-recieved. At one point during the dinner Kate and I needed to run out to grab a medical package that PC had sent Kate in a spur-of-the-moment decision. Kate was going to go and get it herself until our mom shooed me away with a gesture that said, "go with her, you are her husband and you need to make sure she is safe!" The feeling of love mixed with obligation and guilt that this gesture produced in me, solidified how she has become such an important figure in our lives. </div>
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At one point during the meal, Kate and I were joking around with each other in Khmer. Nothing out of the usual...but our family remarked how much they enjoy us being able to "loosen up" around them and be ourselves. They also can clearly see that, while we try to be respectful of their cultural norms, the love we have for each other is very evident. </div>
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As a quick aside, this contradicts much of what we were taught during training, that often, its much better to toe the line of propriety and act in accordance with K'mai standards. In fact, many times, our family likes to see how we act "normally." This is not a comment about the shortcomings of PC training, only to note that in reality, our cultures often do not differ by all that much. </div>
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The night came to a great end as Kate and I insisted on doing all the dishes and giving the family a true night off. Again, the gesture was taken well and it was hard to peel ourselves away from the family and go back to our own house. </div>
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All this to say that we have a fantastic host family in Cambodia, and the Spaghetti dinner was a huge success. </div>
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<br /></div>Chrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01869647633208205867noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7482024483280758583.post-48102048186372904412012-02-04T07:33:00.000-08:002012-02-04T07:33:47.703-08:00Spaghetti Dinner (Part 2)Whenever I cooked at home (Maryland), forgetting something from my recipe at the store was simply and easily rectified by jumping back in the car and making the five minute (roundtrip) journey back to and home from the store again. Nonetheless, I am pretty sure I complained when this happened.<br />
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In Cambodia, it usually takes several trips to the market for me to gather the ingredients I need for more-complex-than-usual-dishes, mostly because they don't have enough of what I need or they don't have it at all. In this case, 4.5 kilograms of ripe tomatoes, a half kilogram of pork, a half kilogram of green pepper, two onions, two carrots, garlic, and fresh parsley. The tomatoes alone gave me cause to make two separate visits to two different markets. Even getting this far gives me cause to be proud.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ready to cook!</td></tr>
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I had no intent of ever making this blog a "cooking blog," mostly because I could never do it as good as most of the ones I have seen out there already. Also, I tend to "cook from the hip" and often don't ever work with recipes. If I do, its usually something I have modified. However, cooking spaghetti in Cambodia <i>feels</i> different than it would in America, so I have tried to capture the process here.<br />
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Skinning the tomatoes is the first step. Its pretty simple, the tomatoes go into boiling water for about 30-40 seconds, and then immediately into cold water. You don't want the tomatoes to cook, only to blanch the skins and then they will slide off. Cook the tomatoes a few at a time so you can easily remove them form the water after 30-40 seconds. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An added bonus for boiling fruits and veggies in Cambodia is that <br />it kills any bacteria that may be on the outside of the produce. </td></tr>
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The skins should pop off real easily, then you are left with naked-looking tomatoes. Don't throw out the tomato skins yet.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRwek9SPstyPDebHyM0MKt7RQpP0t6Cm30AMLNLeWfjqo5aLyF3tPbeugGnobMnOB-1VbTjrbP76mHGs5f0qiVrjMtm1t3IoplswmroMBg85cJ58GdqnWV_svb78K6zb6He5fT0W-WZ7s/s1600/IMG_1018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRwek9SPstyPDebHyM0MKt7RQpP0t6Cm30AMLNLeWfjqo5aLyF3tPbeugGnobMnOB-1VbTjrbP76mHGs5f0qiVrjMtm1t3IoplswmroMBg85cJ58GdqnWV_svb78K6zb6He5fT0W-WZ7s/s400/IMG_1018.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Disrobed, slippery tomatoes...</td></tr>
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Now for the most tedious step. You need to remove any part of the tomato that won't cook down into a liquid-y sauce as well as most (not all, that is impossible) of the seeds. So...cut the top part of the tomato off (the part where the stem meets the flesh) and squeeze the pulp into a sieve or strainer that will gather the seeds. Allow the juice to run from the seeds through the strainer into a bowl underneath. The rest of the tomato parts, is what the sauce will mainly consist of. Use your hands, a blender or whatever to mash up the flesh the best you can and put it all in a big saucepan. Go ahead and turn the heat to low while you are doing the next few steps, the longer the tomatoes cook the better the sauce will be.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNRZ6lCv5P6y1qbl1exUEYHCEwPhxfX76c3ds7vnw92vDzg4REM86XUPyF1JscHXOwbKoOvMKhknOXztqyah2o2swN-PFCjLWDIaOqIAl-tWOp4MywdXbL3fM1TjtW0OCaVRj2qGJnMZw/s1600/IMG_1025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNRZ6lCv5P6y1qbl1exUEYHCEwPhxfX76c3ds7vnw92vDzg4REM86XUPyF1JscHXOwbKoOvMKhknOXztqyah2o2swN-PFCjLWDIaOqIAl-tWOp4MywdXbL3fM1TjtW0OCaVRj2qGJnMZw/s400/IMG_1025.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I don't have a lot of cooking supplies, so I sterilized a slatted bowl <br />for fruit and used it to catch the seeds and tough pulp. </td></tr>
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Save the juice, its really helpful later and usually contains lots of sugars from the tomatoes which helps to make a tastier sauce. While the strainer is still over the bowl, squeeze the skins from earlier to ensure they the juice they hold makes it into your bowl.<br />
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I like to proceed by doing the following: take about eight or nine cloves of fresh garlic and half of an onion, chop them up fine and then put into a smaller saucepan with a few glugs of olive oil. Brown, but don't burn, the onions and garlic. <br />
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Also give the tomatoes in your main pot a quick stir, don't let them burn on the bottom. They should be simmering lightly. <br />
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Once the garlic and onions have been browned (and smell delicious) add about 2/3 of the tomato juice to the smaller saucepan and begin to season. <br />
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***NOTE: If your sauce ever gets to be too thick, that is when you add the rest of the tomato juice. If you don't need it, fine, make yourself a tasty Bloody Mary...you deserve it. <br />
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You need to season this. The tricky part is how your sauce is seasoned because this is largely dependent on the quantity of sauce you are making, personal preference, etc. Start with a few tablespoons of salt, the same of oregano and basil (or an all-purpose italian seasoning), a few generous pinches of sugar, pepper, a little bit of chopped parsley and you are golden (I also like about half a tablespoon of cayenne pepper or hot sauce for a bit of kick). Don't add too much, you can taste the sauce along the way and add more if needed, but if its too salty/peppery, you are kinda screwed. <br />
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Let that simmer, but keep an eye on it, don't let it burn.<br />
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At this point, your big saucepan of tomatoes should start looking like this:<br />
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You want this to continue simmering for a LONG time...for the amount of tomatoes I am using, (roughly 9lbs), it will go for about 2.5 hours. You want the water to boil off from the tomatoes, the sauce to thicken, the tomatoes to breakdown and the juices from the tomatoes to caramelize (it will get darker). I like to add a few pinches of salt to it right now, it seems to help coax the juice from the pulp of the tomatoes.<br />
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In the smaller saucepan, keep it simmering. I like boiling the juice down to a paste-like consistency and since you seasoned this heavily, all the seasons and flavors will intermingle and concentrate. It will take a good long while for the juice to turn into paste. Keep it simmering, keep stirring and keep it from burning. <br />
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As both pots continue to simmer, and you continue to stir periodically, chop up the veggies and meat you want to add to the sauce. Again, based on preference, for a smoother sauce, chop them up finer, for a chunkier sauce you'll want to chop them more coarsely. I like a chunkier sauce so I usually cut up my carrots, onions and peppers fairly coarsely.<br />
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Ok, so your juice should be right about at the paste stage now. Add it to the large saucepan with the majority of your tomatoes. This should all still be simmering now but with the paste now in, it should also be a bit thicker and darker. <br />
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Continue the simmering and the stirring and the thickening. Take a small handful of the chopped green peppers and add it to your sauce now, this will help with the flavor of the sauce. <br />
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Take the rest of the vegetables and put them in a skillet with a little oregano, a pinch of salt and pepper, some olive oil, and sauté until slightly browned. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj07hMbssUDjfu3UnQSnCMnLtGXEkPPA9sOXJCppL9-H95hOBhXuHgiO8pMOnohhfuQQSB345sHK2yz4VwZjmnCy9t7WJucq9ejHy0wRYD4mAOnAmYgsrJ-7Sb-PSUKvH4UgPIujc-WUAA/s1600/IMG_1030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj07hMbssUDjfu3UnQSnCMnLtGXEkPPA9sOXJCppL9-H95hOBhXuHgiO8pMOnohhfuQQSB345sHK2yz4VwZjmnCy9t7WJucq9ejHy0wRYD4mAOnAmYgsrJ-7Sb-PSUKvH4UgPIujc-WUAA/s320/IMG_1030.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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Then, add the veggies to the sauce. <br />
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After this all you need to do is keep it simmering until you like the consistency. You will also need to give it a few taste tests to fine tune the seasoning to your tastes. <br />
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In the end, it looks something like this:<br />
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Notice the darker color? That is because the sugars from the tomatoes have caramelized. Your sauce is now delicious. <br />
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One final step, if you want your sauce to have meat in it. I chose to add some thinly sliced pork. This is mostly because not having a dish with meat in it is a sign of frugality or poorness in Cambodia, I wanted my family to know that we cooked them a "good" meal that contained meat. <br />
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To keep it tender, I added the pork in the last couple minutes of simmering and let it continue to cook while the sauce cooled. This way the pork stayed tender but still cooked through.<br />
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Now, after only like three or four hours in the kitchen and untold treks to countless markets (if you are making this sauce in Cambodia). <br />
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I never intended this to be such a cliff-hanging-three-part-post, but tomorrow I will post how the actual dinner went with the family (I promise!). <br />
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<br /></div>Chrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01869647633208205867noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7482024483280758583.post-75620722529217736482012-02-02T05:29:00.000-08:002012-02-02T05:29:44.352-08:00Spaghetti Dinner (Part 1)If I have not already said this, let me make it clear: Kate and I have an amazing Cambodian family that we live next to. They are as generous and kind as they are respectful of our privacy as a married couple living in a foreign country. <br />
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We live in a pretty awesome home here in Cambodia that, by comparison to most homes in this country, is more than satisfactory. Our family has also gone to great efforts to ensure that we have all the things we need to more than get by: furniture, appliances...even cushions to sit on (a BIG luxury in Cambodia)! <br />
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Our K'mai family consists of six members: a mom, her daughter and her husband, and their three children (including a set of twins). <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With the twins and their grandma, who we call "Mai," Khmer for Mom. Also, my <br />host nephew is making a really satanic/hilarious face here</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of many nights when the twins crashed our house because they were bored. <br />Apparently I missed the memo on the funny face picture. </td></tr>
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Single PCVs typically live with host families in a more complete way - they eat most meals with them, usually live in a room in their house and while they tend to become much closer with their families then a married PCV couple may, they also tend to have more issues with privacy, food and the daily grind. </div>
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Kate and I live in a detached home on our host family's property, only a few meters away from their own home. We can lock our doors and maintain our privacy if we want to. </div>
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We choose to try to integrate into our family, in some way, on a daily basis. I think you could say that we are like adopted members of the family most days. Our "mom" calls us her children, the kids call us Aunt and Uncle and we interact with them as such pretty regularly. </div>
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The kids run out to us when we get home from teaching and either ask us to play to help us put our bikes away. We help them study English and they come into our house from time to time to see what we are watching on our computer (if I want them to leave I just say I am watching a movie about ghosts...perhaps immoral, but it works really well). </div>
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Even though its not in the official agreement our family made with PC, they invite us over for lunch or dinner once a week or so and bring us fresh fruit several times a week. We really appreciate their generosity, but even more, the balance they have struck giving us our privacy and inviting us into their family. </div>
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After eating with them this past week, Kate and I decided to turn the tables and make them dinner instead. </div>
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I have made homemade spaghetti sauce here several times already and thought that was the safest choice to give them a taste of foreign cuisine. Several other PCVs have already attempted dinners similar to this with mixed results. Sometimes the families really dig it, sometimes they put the sauce over rice because the noodles must just be too weird and other times I have heard of families eating only small amounts to say that they had tried it. </div>
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I don't expect a home run, but I do hope that our family understands the gesture and tries the food. </div>
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After another quick trip to the market tomorrow and a few hours in the kitchen, we will be serving dinner for the family. Pictures and results to follow this weekend. </div>Chrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01869647633208205867noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7482024483280758583.post-3225441206956617632012-01-29T23:50:00.000-08:002012-01-29T23:50:15.745-08:00Impressive, sir!<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
One of the constants of Peace Corps service is talking about the things you miss: food, places, weather, freedoms...</div>
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Sometimes it is almost taken for granted that the thing PCVs tend to miss the most are our family and friends that have been physically absent from our lives for an extended period of time. The activities that I did at home, the things I ate and places I visited, don't mean as much without being in the context of the people I did them with. </div>
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So when I talk about missing something like eating a Chipotle burrito, watching a hockey game or going for a run at home - its not only the action I truly miss, but doing the action with someone I love and miss. </div>
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The other day I needed a laugh. It was just one of those days where things didn't go right, the heat got to me and the lessons I taught at school flopped. In Cambodia as in America, people can have bad days. </div>
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So I tried to think of a time where I laughed until my sides hurt. A Cheetos commercial immediately popped into mind: </div>
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You may not think this commercial funny. Hell, you may find it downright ridiculous and a complete waste of your time watching it now. But when it first aired on TV I happened to watch it with my younger brother, Scott. For some reason it really tickled us. </div>
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Sometimes you are just in the right mood at the right time for something to come along and really make you laugh and enjoy something, even if you can't put your finger on what it is. I am pretty sure Scott and I laughed at this for well over half an hour and then YouTubed it again after we stopped laughing, only to restart our snickering. </div>
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During the bad day I had recently, I laughed mildly when I YouTubed this, somewhat disappointedly as I thought that it would bring me out of my funk. </div>
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But when I wrote the dialogue from the commercial into a text and sent it to Scott, I couldn't control my laughter. I think it was because I knew that he would read it, laugh and it would again connect us in the same ridiculous way it did some months ago. </div>
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It worked anyhow. And, not that it takes 9,000 miles and six months of absence to learn this, but a big thing the Peace Corps has helped me to understand is the power of companionship and how much more enjoyable the events of our life can be when we share them with people we love. </div>
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<br /></div>Chrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01869647633208205867noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7482024483280758583.post-39109705414873829032012-01-26T05:24:00.000-08:002012-01-26T05:24:35.212-08:00What the hell is that smell?I find myself asking myself this, rhetorically or aloud to my wife, on a regular basis in Cambodia.<br />
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Before coming to Cambodia I have been relatively well-traveled, including a semester abroad in Beijing. So I assumed that I knew what I was in for with regard to the onslaught to my olfactory system. I may have underestimated Cambodia's might in this department. <br />
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A few examples...<br />
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<b>The markets</b> are probably the first stop for anyone coming to Cambodia and wanting an authentic experience buying groceries, haggling on the price of a shirt or see how life here continually carries on in the smaller towns and villages.<br />
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In most markets, there are certain sections for certain kinds of sellers to sell their wares - clothes, electronics, fruits, vegetables, home goods, etc. Be warned, the "fish" and "meat" sections of the market can be one of the more jolting places you will find on this Earth. In them I have seen children freely peeing near uncovered piles of pork and beef, a pig being slaughtered and bleed while customers haggle over the price of the blood and have been nearly smacked in the face by various raw pieces of meat as enthusiastic sellers show me or package up their goods. <br />
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The smell is, as my father would have delicately put it, "enough to knock a buzzard off a shit wagon." Cambodians don't have access to refrigeration and moreover, don't fully understand the benefits of keeping cooked and uncooked food cold to prevent the formation of bacteria. On the plus side, Cambodia consumes a great deal of fresh meat, fruits and vegetables daily. The downside is the smell of meat in a very hot and humid climate several hours after the animal has been butchered. <br />
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<b>My house</b>, and I'm sure, many others in this country have their own set of unique and ponderous smells. About a week ago Kate and I were having one of our bi-weekly language tutoring lessons when I stood straight up and started evacuating Kate and my teacher from the house because I thought we had a gas leak. False alarm...my host sister was preparing "prahok" a beloved dish in Cambodia made from dried and fermented fish paste. This batch did not turn out as well as one might have hoped (though its hard to tell by smell alone when prahok is "edible"), and smelled rank of methane. <br />
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In the same week, we had an alarming evening as two cats made their way into our roof and began fighting. Three holes in our roof later, our family had chased away the cats (the entire time we were consoling our host nephew that no, they were no ghosts in our house). Apparently, the cats must have chased something else up their and made the kill, because today and for the past three days, a horrific rotting smell is emanating from our wall and ceiling. I am sure it will go away soon though...<br />
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<b>The people</b> in Cambodia confuse me sometimes. Occasionally I will be walking behind a group of men or women and be overpowered by their ability to wear extreme amounts of cologne or perfume without passing out from their own fumes. Other days, I seems as though they are entirely unaware of the existence of BO in the world. Either way, I find that I usually have a 100% chance of "over-smelling" K'mai people, but only a 50-50% chance of that smell being a positive one. <br />
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I don't want to be biased in this post, so let me leave you with some smells in Cambodia that I really do love. <br />
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<b>Cooking</b> <b>garlic</b> - riding my bike home in the evenings, usually I pass several houses and restaurants frying up something good with massive amounts of garlic. No smell makes me hungrier...<br />
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<b>Fruit</b> <b>stalls</b> - especially at night, the dozen or so different kinds of fruit they sell on any given day just makes this perfect cacophony of scent by night. <br />
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<b>Rain</b> - you know that smell right at the beginning of a big rain storm? Somehow the heat and humidity here make that smell all the more welcome during the rainy season. I know I complain about the weather in Cambodia, but the big rains are something I will never get tired of. <br />
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Do you have a favorite smell, or better yet, a least favorite smell? One of the things I miss most here is the smell of honeysuckle in the summer, nothing better than that smell when you are driving at night. <br />
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<br />Chrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01869647633208205867noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7482024483280758583.post-49070628233404229842012-01-25T04:50:00.000-08:002012-01-25T04:50:14.276-08:00Risks of serviceI tend to give my wife a hard time about most things, its just one of the big ways I show affection (that kind of sounds awful when I read it back to myself). Kate's hypochondria tends to a be one of the major targets for my playful teasing - I just find it adorable when she suspects that her leg bruise will turn into a blood clot or that her headache is most certainly an embolism in process. <br />
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Let this blog post serve as an apology to her for all the teasing and maybe even a realization that for now, it might be better to play things safe.<br />
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During our 27 months of service, our physical health will be tested with foreign bacteria (such as giardia), viruses (such as dengue), fevers, poor nutrition, heat rashes, sunburns, frequent smoke inhalation (y'know, from burning trash) bouts of horrendous diarrhea as well as the countless unknown ailments. This is not to even begin to think about the potentiality for more serious or life-threatening issues like bike/car accidents, bug or snake bites, etc.<br />
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I have the utmost faith in our Medical Officer (she is amazing, kudos to her if she ever reads this) to keep Kate and I healthy and safe in emergency situations and in our day-to-day health. However, some of the effects of living here may be of concern for our long-term health. <br />
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This started becoming a more serious thought for me a few days ago when I was teaching. A teacher noticed that the trash barrel was full, and because there is no trash pick up or landfills, lit the trash on fire to burn it. This is totally common and needs to happen regularly to keep up with accumulating trash. Unfortunately, the wind was not in my favor this day, and the thick acrid smoke blew into my classroom. This was not the first time, nor will it be the last. After dismissing class early so that my students and I could get some fresh air, I started to think...<br />
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The majority of trash burned in Cambodia is plastic, which typically produces a noxious, toxic and sometimes carcinogenic smoke. Long-term effects of breathing in this delightful concoction, I'm sure, are not good. <br />
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That same week, I was with a fellow PCV contemplating whether or not our Cambodian diets were healthy or not. Admittedly, we eat less fatty foods, less meat and probably end up eating more fresh vegetables on a daily basis. However, a huge portion of our diet is white rice - essentially just empty carbohydrates. Our major source or protein? Duck eggs. Did you know duck eggs can have up to four times as much cholesterol as the average chicken egg? On an average day here, I probably eat AT LEAST one duck egg, but more like two. After reading the article on the cholesterol levels of duck eggs, I thought I could feel my arteries start to harden. <br />
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When we return home, the Peace Corps will give us a year of covered health care in case health issues crop up due to our 27 months of service. Initially, I found this incredibly generous. I am beginning to wonder if it is enough...Chrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01869647633208205867noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7482024483280758583.post-4449859469451312562012-01-24T05:46:00.000-08:002012-01-24T05:46:02.900-08:00Eight (wonderful, happy, amazing, exciting and yearsThis week marks a particularly happy milestone for my wife and I - we have known each other (and have been what I would essentially call "together") for eight long, happy and love-filled years.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9fYPtC_n-V_DLJJTGtSVpB7JO6kkH58jYnQbfz471TkjM0QBWRB0hqoiHRk8Y6P2fih71uzgHG7DGKwImm3cjnIigs16lm-B8_17SmhK7TCsz__Cc4YyTNBLbjYq3zAa7QIOvHB12o68/s1600/me+and+chris+at+the+inn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9fYPtC_n-V_DLJJTGtSVpB7JO6kkH58jYnQbfz471TkjM0QBWRB0hqoiHRk8Y6P2fih71uzgHG7DGKwImm3cjnIigs16lm-B8_17SmhK7TCsz__Cc4YyTNBLbjYq3zAa7QIOvHB12o68/s400/me+and+chris+at+the+inn.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The early years, as evidenced by my having hair. And not so coincidentally, almost the exact spot where I proposed. </td></tr>
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While the marriage odometer is not yet reading even two years, <a href="http://marshmellowgoodness.blogspot.com/">Kate</a> and I have been through so much with each other that its difficult to think about life without her now. Happily, I don't have to.<br />
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Throughout the years we have endured summers on different sides of the country, semesters apart (<a href="http://marshmellowgoodness.blogspot.com/">Kate</a> in Rome, me in Beijing), grad school and demanding jobs that only allowed us weekends together for two years before we were married, and even tougher jobs that granted us little time to enjoy each others' company after we tied the knot. <br />
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After some quick and dirty math, I realized that the past six months (yes, we have been in Cambodia for six months now) marks the longest stretch of time that we have ever spent together. As in, sharing a bed every night, seeing each other for extended periods of time throughout the day and eating most meals together. <br />
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During Pre-Service Training, we were instructed that as a married couple, we had a high probability of "becoming more impatient with each other," "growing tired of seeing each other everyday" and some even went so far as to say "resenting each other." I found this puzzling because I was so excited for the chance to spend two years of, essentially, uninterrupted time with my wife. Why else would I have married her if not to be with her as much as possible? <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnzMZ16LCRbe0z0C5ghFhc-bt5o57YlJy-G7JlfsEXhcCnJMw-g5eurhNd8PWq6whUQ8ugN3L5B5WkbM0VirL3J0uTin-5krnTolrDalK-gIwG_H_iia-O8A-ZuZDljTI1pFSWzamkPQM/s1600/0568-20100501193112_000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnzMZ16LCRbe0z0C5ghFhc-bt5o57YlJy-G7JlfsEXhcCnJMw-g5eurhNd8PWq6whUQ8ugN3L5B5WkbM0VirL3J0uTin-5krnTolrDalK-gIwG_H_iia-O8A-ZuZDljTI1pFSWzamkPQM/s400/0568-20100501193112_000.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The blissfully wonderful "Big Day." Photo credit: <a href="http://www.bscottphoto.com/">B. Scott Photography</a></td></tr>
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I consider this period of time to be a true gift for our marriage. Surely, once we return home, busy jobs, dogs, babies (eventually) and life will inevitably catch up with us and make the time we get to spend together all the more precious and scarce. The ability to work on professional projects <i>together</i>, teach classes <i>together</i> and struggle through the rigors of living in a foreign culture <i>together</i> is something that most married couples do not have the opportunity to experience. It has already made us stronger and the memories we have made and will continue to make are something I know our grandchildren will know inside and out. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKhPugw_8c-_bNin8AMpllJiDQqD00khaoLirOLvVume4cC-vTWQ03S5SuA9UZX8m9sLSw2yQbuJDqId9zvAvTIPIq316x4bz4blb-U-Q_h4tsDCvorDwv_wn_4NA590m0ors6fFzfe80/s1600/IMG_0906.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKhPugw_8c-_bNin8AMpllJiDQqD00khaoLirOLvVume4cC-vTWQ03S5SuA9UZX8m9sLSw2yQbuJDqId9zvAvTIPIq316x4bz4blb-U-Q_h4tsDCvorDwv_wn_4NA590m0ors6fFzfe80/s400/IMG_0906.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christmas in Kep, Cambodia. </td></tr>
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So, to my wife I have nothing but thanks and love for the past eight years and for the coming eighty. Thank you for loving me despite my flaws and for laughing with me through the tough times. I can't imagine a better partner for the Peace Corps or for life. <br />
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To everyone else, I wish you all the happiness that I find each day with <a href="http://marshmellowgoodness.blogspot.com/">Kate</a>. If applying and serving in the Peace Corps has taught me anything about my relationship, it is that you should always take the time to do the things you want to do as a couple. Don't let any excuses get in the way and enjoy the ride together. <br />
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<br />Chrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01869647633208205867noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7482024483280758583.post-2682662152663769612012-01-23T02:48:00.000-08:002012-01-23T02:48:35.650-08:00You want me to do what???When I first started teaching at Chea Sim, the High School in my town, I had a preliminary meeting with the school director to see the kinds of activities, clubs and general ideas he wanted me to bring to the school. Obviously English teaching was to be my main focus, but in a close second place was his desire for me to be very active in sports teams at the High School. Specifically, he was really excited for me to coach basketball. <br />
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I am not saying that I am not a "sports guy," but if given the chance to rank my favorite sports to watch or play, basketball would be close to the bottom of the list well behind the likes of curling, croquet and this cool martial arts fighting with electric lances I once saw on an episode of Star Trek.<br />
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Also, I know <strike>virtually</strike> nothing about basketball.<br />
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I am pretty sure the thought process for my school director went something like this,<br />
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"Who can I get to coach basketball this year...? Wait, aren't we getting a foreigner to teach English from the Peace Corps? PERFECT! He will know tons about basketball, he probably even knows Yao Ming..."<br />
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Of the few memories I have playing basketball in my youth (those remaining anyway, most I have subconsciously blocked out due to their painful and embarrassing nature), I recall feeling incredibly awkward dribbling (its called dribbling, right?) the ball around the court (court or field?) not really sure what to do with my arms and hands when I didn't have the ball, and even less sure what to do with the ball when I had it. I can't help but think that this is a job far better suited to my younger brother - he oozes sports competency and is practically a statistic book pretty much all sport genres. <br />
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All this to say, I am pretty sure I was the worst choice for a basketball coach possible. <br />
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Regardless, I have been showing up a few times a week to "help" the dozen or so boys work on plays, run drills and generally try to look like I had a clue. If nothing else, the kids seem to like hanging out with me and I try to joke around with them every chance to get to minimize the opportunities for actually having to play basketball myself. <br />
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Initially, they wanted me to come every day of the week for two hours each day. I nixed that pretty quickly, while I want to show support and respect to my school director, I have some other projects in mind that I want to leave some time to accomplish throughout the week. <br />
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Here are some pictures from the first day of practice I had with them. Notice their dress, particularly the long pants and shirts and lack of shoes. I was later told that the school would be purchasing shoes for them to wear during practices and games. <br />
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I'll keep you all posted on how this saga turns out...and just because he is adorable, I leave you with a picture of my host nephew in all his camera-hogging glory. <br />
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<br />Chrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01869647633208205867noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7482024483280758583.post-54541671840169413992012-01-11T02:58:00.000-08:002012-01-11T03:00:35.548-08:00One of the best feelings in the worldRecently, Kate and I each had an experience that made us feel incredibly good about our K'mai speaking abilities. <br />
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Often times, when we interact with Cambodians, they (obviously) know we are foreigners from the moment we start speaking. So, it usually comes as a surprise to them when we begin speaking K'mai instead of English or French. Usually (every time), they say something like "jie k'mai" which translates into "know k'mai." This is usually an aside to their nearby friends or fellow Cambodians. It tends to produce a good feeling for me when this happens as it shows me that a) Cambodians are recognizing that we are making the effort to learn and speak K'mai where other foreigners are not and b) are being understood while speaking K'mai. </div>
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An ever greater feeling, however, is the one you get when you speak K'mai to someone in Cambodia and they don't even realize you are a foreigner to begin with. </div>
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A few days ago, I was enjoying an evening bike ride when I decided that I needed some fruit. So I stopped at the next fruit stand I saw and proceeded to ask the woman behind the counter some questions like how much a kilo of dragon fruit was and whether or not the oranges were sweet. </div>
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She was clearly so busy chopping up a pile of cucumbers that she hadn't the time to look up, but only responded in K'mai. When I finally said that I wanted a half kilo of dragon fruit, she wiped off her hands, got up and weighed the fruit I had picked out. </div>
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Then she looked at me.</div>
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I distinctly remember hearing the words "barang" (foreigner) and "jie K'mai" in a most puzzled intonation. After explaining to her that I was learning K'mai because I am a Peace Corps Volunteer and that I taught English at the High School, she was a little less shellshocked and more inclined to pick up her jaw and sell me the dragon fruit. </div>
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The point is that, until she looked at me, I might well have been a Cambodian based on what I was saying and how I was saying it. And that, my friends, is one of the best feelings in the world...</div>Chrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01869647633208205867noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7482024483280758583.post-20014796750481649472012-01-09T05:32:00.000-08:002012-01-09T21:10:39.424-08:00Through my eyes...("main street")<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
Happily, Kate and I just upgraded our Internet plans here for our computers, so I have decided to try and post more video of where I work, play and live.</div>
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This first video was impromptu and probably not done with much thought - there is a lot of wind-noise and I probably jostled the camera too much as I was riding, but I'll try to do better next time. Hopefully it doesn't give you vertigo while you watch it, but it should give you a "feel" for riding your bike around Takeo Town in Cambodia. The video is shot basically from the central market down the main street of the town and to our house.</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/qo3_qeQX3v8?fs=1" width="459"></iframe></div>Chrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01869647633208205867noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7482024483280758583.post-32641313538562452852012-01-09T00:33:00.000-08:002012-01-09T21:11:29.854-08:00PCV Cambodia pocket dump***Warning, what proceeds is ultra nerdy...<br />
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For those of you who don’t already know, I am a huge fan of
gadgets. To be more specific, I am a huge fan of utility-increasing gadgets. I am <b><i>not</i></b> the
kind of person (read: d-bag) who is constantly linked to the Internet by having my iPhone,
iPad <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and</i> iPod touch (as a backup,
y’know...?) never out of arms reach.
Nor am I some kind of gun-toting survivalist hell-bent on being the last
man standing, grinning and yelling “I TOLD YOU SO!!!” over a pile of zombie
corpses or in a bunker avoiding nuclear fallout (but if it happens, my pocket multi-tool <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">will</i> save me). I simply respect the utility that a
simple, compact tool(s) can provide and really enjoy gadgets that make one’s
unique daily activates a bit more efficient or fun. </div>
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The tools I most enjoy are typically compact, built to last
with high-quality materials and are pertinent to the user’s needs. I have always prided myself on having
that certain tool on my person to handily confront any problem and impress
those around me with my preparedness. </div>
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Recently, I have taken great comfort in discovering that I
am not alone in my quest for the brightest, most compact and alarmingly
expensive flashlight or the sharpest and lightest pocketknife. “Everyday Carry” or EDC for short, is a
kind of philosophy or outlook that seeks to streamline and make efficient that
which we carry on a daily basis.
<a href="http://everyday-carry.com/">This EDC blog</a>, while often repetitive and sometimes obsessive from a
mainstream perspective, is one of my absolute favorites and might help
illustrate what I am talking about better than I can. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Batman and his utility belt. The godfather of gadgets and EDC. Image from Wikipedia.com</td></tr>
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In a world where the amount of “stuff” we carry or value
tends to overwhelm us or perhaps even prevent us from enjoying our lives, it
makes sense to examine what we deem worthy to lug around with us and accompany
us as we face each day and the joys or challenges that come with it. A “pocket dump” is essentially just
that – a pouring out of what one regularly carries on their person to see
what’s there. I think the point of
this is to take a look at what you tend to carry around with you and see if
there is something there that you simply don’t need, or conversely, something
you could add that would add an (extra) element of safety, efficiency,
happiness or even style to your daily goings on. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I thought it would be kind of cool to see what I am carrying
around here in Cambodia as a PCV/English teacher. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjubmSkO5sceeZ66MJGtcVG70Doej1n-Z8EtpvA_s3eo2anfMPwLshsALWSVSLSgMaNdY8kF42QCE5oEzR4ukbL8TuleezVVI2Ak4nNiVRSpdqMkaP89p3qG3aiMUiSB6J0UnD8KLvwyhI/s1600/IMG_0968.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjubmSkO5sceeZ66MJGtcVG70Doej1n-Z8EtpvA_s3eo2anfMPwLshsALWSVSLSgMaNdY8kF42QCE5oEzR4ukbL8TuleezVVI2Ak4nNiVRSpdqMkaP89p3qG3aiMUiSB6J0UnD8KLvwyhI/s400/IMG_0968.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What I am carrying...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Going from top left to right…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Wingdings;"> </span></span>Saddleback wallet</b> – <a href="http://www.saddlebackleather.com/">Saddleback</a> is this amazing brand that creates durable and quality leather goods, all of which come with 100-year warranties. By far the best wallet I have ever owned, its layout and size allow me to store all my essentials (cash, business cards, license, credit cards, etc.) while preventing me from stuffing my wallet full of junk, causing me to sit lopsided and probably develop scoliosis. My bike key laying on top fits perfectly flush into one of the wallet pockets.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Gerber Crucial Tool</b> – Since arriving in Cambodia
this little gem has had the honored spot of accessibility on my left hip (after
getting my luggage from the carousel and exiting the airport, of course…). Included in this compact yet sturdy
multi-tool is a blade (half straightedge, half serrated), pliers, screwdrivers,
bottle opener and a clip to secure to my pocket. I tend to go with a more serious locking blade at home, but I am a little worried about perception as a PCVs in Cambodia.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Nokia cell phone</b> – Aside from the Peace Corps rule
that my phone needs be on my person and turned on at all times, I find this
little technological link to be incredibly reassuring in my daily life
here. Texting family and friends
back to the states for only three cents a shot or being able to call my wife up
on a moment’s notice to warn her of an impending laundry-soaking downpour or
ask her to meet me at our favorite pork and rice restaurant, is truly worth its
weight in gold. It also has
electronic versions of Snake and Sudoku so I can look busy and important when I
am on the bus or between classes and want to avoid being asked about my sex
life by Cambodian men. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Wingdings;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Casio SGW100B-3V Digital Watch</b> – I got this watch to fill in for my Wenger AquaGraph (gift from my wife I didn't want scratched up) while I am in Cambodia. It is great for a few reasons. The digital compass, durability and tough but comfortable watchband have convinced me this was a good decision. </div>
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<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Wingdings;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>4Sevens Quark R5 flashlight</b> (not pictured) – This one is
a sob story. For my last birthday,
my beautiful wife spent a silly amount of money on a flashlight that I had been
drooling over for months. I loved
it…and maybe more importantly, it was an extension of my wife’s love for me and
her tolerating of my ridiculous obsessions. It was so freaking bright, sturdy and small. Somehow, it jumped off of my belt
during my first month in Cambodia and took with it a piece of my heart. Really a shame too, because a
flashlight in Cambodia is an essential piece of gear between power outages, the
lack of streetlights and the ridiculously early hour people turn off their
lights and go to bed over here. A
replacement may or may not already be on its way…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Bandana</b> – I was taught at an early age that carrying a handkerchief was the sign of a true gentleman. Also, Cambodia = really sweaty and dirty. Some days I carry two. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Under Amour sunglasses</b> – Maybe my most vital
piece of hardware in Cambodia. My eyes are really sensitive; for me, I equate stepping out into a bright day with what a newborn child
experiences when it is pulled from the womb into all that fluorescent lighting. Also, my primary mode of transportation in
Cambodia is my bike. During the
dry season, it’s impossible to keep dirt and grit out of your eyes unless you
wear some kind of eye protection. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Keychain</b> (left) – Carabiner, keys, Saddleback keychain, Streamlight Nano mini flashlight. Connects/detaches easily to the other keychain via a Victorinox QD keychain. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Keychain</b> (right) – Spyderco bug (keychain knife), split pea peanut lighter, Gerber Shard keychain tool, Batman symbol keychain (an homage to the master of EDC and gadgetry), Washington Capitals retrieval lanyard. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
While I don't really consider it to be an EDC item, my backpack is almost always with me. In it I carry some more serious items for my work in Cambodia (dry-erase markers, school activity books, folders), as well as a backup flashlight, medical kit and a few other odds and ends like hand sanatizer, drink mix packets and the like. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
So my big question to you...what am I missing? What are your favorite tools that you carry on a daily basis that you think I simply cannot live without? Or conversely, what do you think I am totally nuts for carrying with me on a daily basis. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>Chrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01869647633208205867noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7482024483280758583.post-10907597777503274222012-01-07T04:38:00.000-08:002012-01-07T04:38:37.269-08:00Mr. Guinea Pig, you were right...kinda...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></div>The last few weeks leading up to Kate and my departure from Maryland to Cambodia were filled with heartfelt goodbyes, well wishes and an outpouring of love from our friends and family. I think about our "last moments" with people from home often, thinking that somehow that last image I have of that person as I said goodbye has frozen them in time and will keep them just so for 27 months until we come back home. <br />
<br />
One particularly fond farewell, that I think about often, was over dinner with one of my favorite fellow young married couples, for anonymity's sake and because its adorable, we will call them Mr. and Mrs. Guinea Pig. During this dinner, as is like to happen, the ladies discussed things like weddings (even though they were already married), blog fonts and...I don't know...probably purses or something. The menfolk, however, were deeply engrossed in far more interesting topics such as hockey, which season of Dexter is best, and of course, whether or not Cambodia would have an abundance of wild boar for Kate and I to eat regularly when we arrived. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/f/f0/Wild_Boar_Habbitat_3.jpg/250px-Wild_Boar_Habbitat_3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" height="207" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/f/f0/Wild_Boar_Habbitat_3.jpg/250px-Wild_Boar_Habbitat_3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A wild boar. Picture from Wikipedia.com</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Now, on this last discussion topic, you might say that things became heated, things were said, positions were established and a gentlemen's bet of sorts was set. I took the position, that, "no, Mr. Guinea Pig, there are no wild boar in Cambodia and far from it, we would never eat nor hear of anyone eating wild boar in the vicinity of Cambodia during our tenure as PCVs in Cambodia." Mr. Guinea Pig, as you might have guessed, took the opposing position. He described a fantastic world where white rice rains from the heavens (kind of true...), cats and dogs live together in harmony and yes, wild boar would become a virtual staple for us and that one simply had to step outside to find them scamping about in droves. <br />
<br />
I take this moment to publicly admit defeat to Mr. Guinea Pig, as I am now aware of wild boar being spotted, caught and consumed not 12km from my very place of residence. This may be a far cry from the endemic of boar described to me, but I admit that the terms of this bet were clear and I have been bested. <br />
<br />
Your reward of a full rack of wild boar ribs awaits you in Cambodia, Mr. Guinea Pig.Chrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01869647633208205867noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7482024483280758583.post-83782560812758642642012-01-03T23:00:00.000-08:002012-01-03T23:00:04.676-08:00Let me tell you about my counterpart….As an English Teacher in the Peace Corps my main job is, as you might have guessed, teaching English in a Cambodian public high school. When I tell people back home what I do, I think sometimes they imagine me as though I am in some kind of American-styled school building, with my own classroom and a teacher’s lounge to retreat to during breaks (this isn’t accurate).<br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In fact, what I actually do on a day-to-day basis differs greatly from what I had envisioned ten months ago when I found out I would be teaching in Cambodia. Education PCVs in Cambodia work with counterparts when they teach – this means that every day when I go to school to teach, I am not just teaching by myself, but with a Cambodian counterpart. Admittedly, I was a little put off by this at first. Like any true American, I wanted to do things my way, at my speed and without someone else looking over my shoulder. After all, isn’t that why they brought in an “expert English Teacher” from America? </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The reason Peace Corps pairs you up with counterparts is really a brilliant move on their part as far as the development process is concerned. Imagine what might happen if I was a fantastic teacher in Cambodia, I put in my two years and then I left. I might have influenced over 1,500 students during my time here. But what if, instead of teaching alone, I had worked with and taught alongside a few teachers consistently over that same two-year period. I would still be working with and influencing those same students, but simultaneously imparting my knowledge and, perhaps more creative teaching strategies to them to continue using after I leave. And the exchange swings both ways, for every day I work with a counterpart I learn significantly more about the actual state of the Cambodian education system, how to navigate its pitfalls and how I/Peace Corps can contribute to sustained improvements from the perspective of their own system instead of dictating educational reforms to Cambodians from a place of ignorance. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I work with two counterparts to teach close to 500 students, mostly 9<sup>th</sup> grade, but I teach some 12<sup>th</sup> grade students as well. For each class that I teach, I coordinate my plans with the plans of my counterpart for that specific class. As you might imagine, your counterpart can make or break your Peace Corps service, and certainly, can be a huge factor in your sanity levels. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">During my first three weeks at site, I was strictly an observer at my school, showing up diligently each day to watch the different English teachers, noting any areas in which they could improve, their level of English competency and how they interacted with their students. I chose two counterparts to work with based on these observations and since October, I have been forging a particularly rewarding relationship, both professionally and personally, with my main counterpart, let’s just call him Mr. S, as his name is difficult enough to pronounce without me trying to write down the crazy-ass phonetics. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nFmoEURbMIk/TwF5JAKRxqI/AAAAAAAAADM/jOW0pFFOQeM/s1600/IMG_0807.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nFmoEURbMIk/TwF5JAKRxqI/AAAAAAAAADM/jOW0pFFOQeM/s320/IMG_0807.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mr. S looking quite dapper in his formal teaching uniform next to me. This was <br />
during the parade and ceremony for the Cambodian Independence Day this year. </td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">We became fast friends and solid coworkers within just a few weeks of my starting to teach. It is difficult to describe what I really like about him to those who may not have much experience with Cambodia’s culture. Suffice it to say, many of the aspects of Cambodian men that tend to work against an efficient system of education are simply absent in Mr. S. Where some teachers might focus our daily conversations on whether or not I have taken a Cambodian wife yet (they know I am already married) or if I would like one, Mr. S without fail will ask how Kate is doing and request that I relay his greetings to her. Where some Cambodian English teachers might see their profession as simply a way of earning money and therefore see attending their classes as optional, Mr. S has seldom missed a class, constantly finds new ways of teaching and improving our lessons and on his first day of meeting me, spoke at length at how English skills can open the doors of opportunity to many Cambodian students, telling me, “English is like their clothes, without good English skills they will be naked.” I think the metaphor was a bit more poignant before it was translated in his head, but I got the general idea he was trying to convey to me.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-a4hJUBzVUlE/TwF5SK_tj-I/AAAAAAAAADU/C2FzgUYQq8U/s1600/IMG_0892.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-a4hJUBzVUlE/TwF5SK_tj-I/AAAAAAAAADU/C2FzgUYQq8U/s320/IMG_0892.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One thing I love about this man is his desire to help and make things better by simply volunteering <br />
his time. Here we are with a few students during a clean-up project I put on. Mr. S helped facilitate <br />
everything from buying materials with me, being there on the actual day to helping students the new<br />
trash bins we bought (he insisted that this color was the "most beautiful").</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">When you live in a different country with a radically different culture than your own, it is difficult sometimes to know if and when you are getting through to people and if they understand who you are and what makes you tick. During a six-day English conference that Mr. S and I attended together, he invited me to his hotel room for dinner and beers (I know it sounds sketchy when I put it like that, but I promise it wasn’t). He wanted to bond with me and get to know each other as much as I wanted the same. Over a few beers and some street meat (that I am pretty sure gave me a really bad stomach infection hence sidelining me for the rest of the conference) we bonded in a truly special way through a complex ceremony that men have been participating in for millennium: grilled red meat, alcohol and satellite TV.<br />
<br />
Just as important as me being able to figure out him, after that night, I felt that he understood who I am and why I am here.<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal"></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dH3QT8Pjv18/TwF5X-LhLVI/AAAAAAAAADc/ogL078EX2X0/s1600/IMG_5709.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dH3QT8Pjv18/TwF5X-LhLVI/AAAAAAAAADc/ogL078EX2X0/s320/IMG_5709.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Mr. S and I during the English conference in Phnom Penh. I think approximately</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">24 hours after this picture was taken I had a 103 degree fever and unspeakable issues </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">with my gastrointestinal system...if only I could tell Past Chris to prepare himself...</div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
A few weeks ago, Mr. S (actually it was his wife) asked Kate and I over for dinner as a farewell party to their nephew leaving for the US. After living among them for more than five months already, I can confidently say that Cambodians are known for their hospitality. During the rainy season it is not uncommon for strangers to shelter under someone’s roof as a drenching downpour goes by. Kate and I have been offered to eat rice with many families and individuals that we have never met before. But at his home we are treated as family and welcomed fully by the family. Also, it should be mentioned, on the menu for the evening: fried fish, stuffed curried frog, K’mai soup, rice (obviously), roasted crickets, stewed curried duck (salivatingly good) and brought in special from a remote Cambodian province: a thighbone of grilled monkey meat. Stuck between a moral hard place and the rock of wanting to be respectful and courteous, Kate and I tried it all…including the monkey.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<br />
At the risk of sounding overly corny, I am very proud of my relationship with Mr. S, and can't help but think that this kind of relationship will have more of a positive impact on Cambodia and on myself after I leave than any amount of "work" that I do here. <br />
</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div>Chrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01869647633208205867noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7482024483280758583.post-37895270081525029352012-01-01T08:10:00.000-08:002012-01-01T08:10:25.683-08:00Chris/Toph/Papa Marsh/Sihamoni/Boo Krees/Chur/Batman, back on the air…<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">With the turn of the New Year, I am joining the scores of those endeavoring to better myself through the self-<s>flagellating </s>motivating process of New Year’s resolution-ing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, I am going to try and start blogging again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I am not naive enough to think that people continue to check my blog in anticipation of my triumphant return to the world of print, but I do hope that someone (mom?) will check back here sometime to see that I am writing again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyways, hobbies are surprisingly in short supply for PCVs in Cambodia and my past blog entries have helped to serve as both an update to loved ones back home as well as an account of memories made as a PCV.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My goal is blogging once a week, so help hold me to it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I started slow and chose a topic that will help set the stage for entries to come, my name(s).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have to collected several since coming to Cambodia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Chris</b> – pretty much what I call myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Somehow this name seems to be used least…</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Toph</b> – one of my most favorite nicknames and the primary nomenclature preferred by my wife.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It has several variations including but not limited to Toe, Topher…ad nausea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Papa Marsh aka ½ of “The Marshes”</b> – I am not sure if its my cynical-logical-sometimes-crotchety-old-before-I’m-young-mentality or just that Kate and I make good surrogate parents for those without, but especially since coming to Cambodia, Kate and I tend to become the de facto parental units for those needing a dose of advice or someone to kiss their boo-boos.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Certainly not a complaint, Kate and I both enjoy houseguests and talking through problems alike.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Regardless, it has earned me yet another nickname. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Sihamoni</b> – So…this is the King of Cambodia’s name.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My first week here, my host grandmother and her sister saw my resemblance to His Royal Highness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since then, everyone from my students to the Deputy Governor of my new home province has noticed and commented on how I must be his long, lost American kin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Calling me Sihamoni during a dinner or a class has become commonplace and usually gets, at first, a laugh, then a serious and pondering look (presumably to see if I actually <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">could</i> somehow be related to him).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-U4f3-yQCWzY/Tv7QrZ49MoI/AAAAAAAAJrM/NzepapAQ6tQ/s1600/IMG_5415.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-U4f3-yQCWzY/Tv7QrZ49MoI/AAAAAAAAJrM/NzepapAQ6tQ/s400/IMG_5415.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kate, me and a picture of His Royal Highness. We actually got to see him drive by during the first two months of training in Cambodia. You can see his picture, and I am sure the striking resemblance, in this picture. </td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Boo Krees</b> – The phonetics on this one are tough, but imagine trying to same my name with no previous understand of how English speakers say the “ch” sound.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is what my host family’s youngest members call me – they have become Kate and my nieces and nephews for all intents and purposes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Boo” is the K’mai word for uncle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I must admit, this might be my favorite name to hear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once these kids see Kate or I coming through the front gates after teaching or coming home after a weekend away, they are ready for a hug and for us to throw them up in the air and catch them (they weigh like 20 pounds, if that…), chocolate may or may not have also solidified these bonds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br />
</span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nLTNQ57Ab1c/TwCCYWDWavI/AAAAAAAAAC0/CBB32b2Hkjg/s1600/IMG_0924.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nLTNQ57Ab1c/TwCCYWDWavI/AAAAAAAAAC0/CBB32b2Hkjg/s320/IMG_0924.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These kids have totally warmed up to us since first invading their home and lives. They are actually twins, but the brother's eating habits are terrible, and his growth has essentially been stunted as a result. Now we are just one of the family...Watch out for the little boy on the right, this picture is adorably deceiving... <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NhwiS23phjg/TwCCPNU92cI/AAAAAAAAACs/SoLx2AiVgBo/s1600/IMG_0919.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NhwiS23phjg/TwCCPNU92cI/AAAAAAAAACs/SoLx2AiVgBo/s320/IMG_0919.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's more like it...other than our rooster, he is the loudest thing for miles.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Chur – </b>This one may be used most frequently, as it is what my students call me and I have <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">a lot</i> of students, over 450.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In a town as small as mine, its literally impossible to go to the market or the store without getting a “hello, chur!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Chur, as in the second half of “teacher.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I joke with my students that its ridiculous for them to call me this, and for the first month I thought they were calling me “chair” and had god awful English skills.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I threaten to call them “dents,” like the second half of student…somehow they didn’t think that made sense.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UtGCoj4MOy0/TwCDv5c0gjI/AAAAAAAAADA/MoNRvFEl3Gs/s1600/IMG_0851.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UtGCoj4MOy0/TwCDv5c0gjI/AAAAAAAAADA/MoNRvFEl3Gs/s320/IMG_0851.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some of my amazing students at a workshop Kate held on volunteerism. To demonstrate the use of my name with a quote from the day, "Chur, your wife is so very pretty and you are handsome, chur." </td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Batman</b> – No one has really called me this since college, but I wish they still did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Also, really excited for the new movie coming out soon…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">For those of you reading this, thanks for giving me and my short-attention span another shot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will try not to disappoint and I promise, Cambodia + Peace Corps = some pretty sweet stories, so I know you won’t be disappointed. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><!--EndFragment-->Chrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01869647633208205867noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7482024483280758583.post-41408785257242606072011-10-20T02:18:00.000-07:002011-10-20T02:18:07.741-07:00Pchum Ben<div class="MsoNormal">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.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">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. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">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. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">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. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">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.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">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. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">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. <br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH5G96nwaRdcV50BGJIZLAhL566uKZ5ZAq7OUm50rHzc5SXAxwDYD5MitKLQ68-qI1DG_ONsNO1fdwiBud1KFAkSM7wV1HEj6cBe_AfY0VQTvp8NHMcBhZ6_vksGfXvZi8FUEgnOvljvo/s1600/IMG_1046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH5G96nwaRdcV50BGJIZLAhL566uKZ5ZAq7OUm50rHzc5SXAxwDYD5MitKLQ68-qI1DG_ONsNO1fdwiBud1KFAkSM7wV1HEj6cBe_AfY0VQTvp8NHMcBhZ6_vksGfXvZi8FUEgnOvljvo/s400/IMG_1046.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The whole family (in town for the holiday) and a few neighbors, getting <br />
in on the Pchum Ben fun. Here they are making the traditional rice cakes with pork and beans. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTeFuuGtvTH_61Tz_siAD2iOTAXqtLbwQO6bT4tN8OX24eCMuG79u_QZDn17VzVdX-5_SFldrlmZ8psPf1ER_olh5I4IKDNGlKdtMjVz-T5xO8i55Tjt1c6Qc-fF8SIWSDEMrq9Kc1Iuk/s1600/IMG_1044.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTeFuuGtvTH_61Tz_siAD2iOTAXqtLbwQO6bT4tN8OX24eCMuG79u_QZDn17VzVdX-5_SFldrlmZ8psPf1ER_olh5I4IKDNGlKdtMjVz-T5xO8i55Tjt1c6Qc-fF8SIWSDEMrq9Kc1Iuk/s400/IMG_1044.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;">My bad ass with a heart of gold Yea. She is stuffing </div><div style="text-align: center;">rice and filling into the banana leaf wrapping that will </div>then be cooked. Also, she got up at 3am to do this...</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZyKoKs7yp8Rk8lwoSzFBAekV3r7q8gPPqeb_zw-pHYIIzLPRcIHnZQW410TJC8CX8ac8I1Np5PzcnGriNZuMep4LW6rOSq9YFM-QEaL4oVzQXhTyjSDgxVPEzGbYVUYbW7NBPYQbeGuM/s1600/IMG_1042.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZyKoKs7yp8Rk8lwoSzFBAekV3r7q8gPPqeb_zw-pHYIIzLPRcIHnZQW410TJC8CX8ac8I1Np5PzcnGriNZuMep4LW6rOSq9YFM-QEaL4oVzQXhTyjSDgxVPEzGbYVUYbW7NBPYQbeGuM/s400/IMG_1042.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just for fun, one of the geckos that lives in our house. <br />
Its called a T'kai because of the noise it makes. <br />
We have one that is about two feet long, but<br />
this one stands at a measly six or seven inches...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTK-tD7SWkNY3ZcGlbgfRos6whyphenhyphenMv1SObggW0H0nAwdOJmQAS-V-FhtCXxR_osLuN2KJQqO6t-4Vpc4Ro7l9AyixmxiojZxKGHZSvflajW2WscxPFhDULlsHt1i4VRVNEkd3BYAQUrDHA/s1600/IMG_1047.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTK-tD7SWkNY3ZcGlbgfRos6whyphenhyphenMv1SObggW0H0nAwdOJmQAS-V-FhtCXxR_osLuN2KJQqO6t-4Vpc4Ro7l9AyixmxiojZxKGHZSvflajW2WscxPFhDULlsHt1i4VRVNEkd3BYAQUrDHA/s400/IMG_1047.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Our house! Here you can see the front porch, the <br />
table where we typically eat all meals and the rice paddy <br />
beyond on the side of our house. The buildings beyond <br />
are actually a high school where we practiced teaching <br />
during training. </span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div>Chrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01869647633208205867noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7482024483280758583.post-27115672726396144622011-10-10T17:00:00.000-07:002011-10-10T17:00:00.733-07:00Boost to morale and R&R<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">One of the larger and more looming requirements to Peace Corps service is passing a language test towards the end of one’s PST.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To that end, we all are required to take and score a minimal passing score on a nationally administered speaking and comprehension test.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">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.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We also would find out the scores of our final language test taken just a few days before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">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!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My wife is a rock star at life and stands out as one of the best speakers in our group of sixty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">If that wasn’t enough, I finally received a package from my mom that I had been waiting for, for several weeks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">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. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, it had been over two months since my last hot shower.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All the bucket showers and St. Ives exfoliating scrub cannot make you feel as clean or as human as a hot shower.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I am not sure if I ever really understood the term “recharging your batteries” in the same way that I now do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><!--EndFragment-->Chrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01869647633208205867noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7482024483280758583.post-70487575282075228872011-10-09T17:00:00.000-07:002011-10-09T17:00:02.509-07:00Cambodia's Biggest Problem...<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">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…).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Problem solved...</span></div><!--EndFragment-->Chrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01869647633208205867noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7482024483280758583.post-78359638247658293422011-10-08T18:07:00.000-07:002011-10-08T18:07:37.727-07:00Site announcement and visit!<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tuk-tuks are Cambodia’s approximation of taxis in the US, but that scarcely does them justice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Imagine a motorcycle rigged to pull a small carriage and you have it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are really for shorter distances, but we sometimes test their abilities with trips of 20-30km.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I must admit, this was an exciting way to approach a potentially frightening day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Often times this means that couples get their own bathroom, kitchen and sometimes even their own separate house entirely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We were invited along with the PC Staff to look at what was identified as our new home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The second house, which would end up being our home, was a separate building on the property of a medium-sized family of six.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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…).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Truth be told, I am almost a little embarrassed around my fellow trainees that our situation is as great as it is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><!--EndFragment-->Chrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01869647633208205867noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7482024483280758583.post-63317814358065778432011-09-06T22:59:00.000-07:002011-09-07T01:40:40.914-07:00The Rat (Part II)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div>***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. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0px; text-align: left;">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.</div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0px;">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.</div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0px;">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.</div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVV0eQaVmm-vj_fxMcT7DwQ-31iKicnIMXHvN3lqKcDgj8VHJa9LWTuDEIXEUSeZzvxsQFdLasGhsnAhp_5OiNlIq5ViVdblBh7HbHtCKaX8Qfu2T4Fty7i2D1gy0vTp2idgJW53f5doY/s1600/IMG_5424.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVV0eQaVmm-vj_fxMcT7DwQ-31iKicnIMXHvN3lqKcDgj8VHJa9LWTuDEIXEUSeZzvxsQFdLasGhsnAhp_5OiNlIq5ViVdblBh7HbHtCKaX8Qfu2T4Fty7i2D1gy0vTp2idgJW53f5doY/s1600/IMG_5424.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0px;">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.</div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0px;">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.</div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0px;">***This next part is actually kind of gruesome...be warned***</div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0px;">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.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfbw-FU1051WtHW3_MDjB9B-hqs76TVsEknDhVxlCrVv7x4BXoD7B3M7RTrcIaT-dAB9K6ENq43-T5yNXXB_RANffE3rJk_3ewrIUc8arzZvNoSpbEEoIhluaSe8aBy_Y8ShLX6pSdLxE/s1600/IMG_5425.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfbw-FU1051WtHW3_MDjB9B-hqs76TVsEknDhVxlCrVv7x4BXoD7B3M7RTrcIaT-dAB9K6ENq43-T5yNXXB_RANffE3rJk_3ewrIUc8arzZvNoSpbEEoIhluaSe8aBy_Y8ShLX6pSdLxE/s400/IMG_5425.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="300" /></a></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0px;">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.</div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8ufXCJzzmdz-nF5lJzOyrhrC-20OmWO3UIujyxcb2TXMjD-yqyCNkJtVEMpFp75TNReXDlIipvvbKZ1keKJ4iqew6Ttlm1XcsIXSUleIOtpXjprmMni-qOdPqu7pINR60LwuoQqqZWGo/s1600/IMG_5426.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8ufXCJzzmdz-nF5lJzOyrhrC-20OmWO3UIujyxcb2TXMjD-yqyCNkJtVEMpFp75TNReXDlIipvvbKZ1keKJ4iqew6Ttlm1XcsIXSUleIOtpXjprmMni-qOdPqu7pINR60LwuoQqqZWGo/s400/IMG_5426.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0px;">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. </div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0px;">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.</div>Chrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01869647633208205867noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7482024483280758583.post-88313575866663717362011-09-04T05:53:00.000-07:002011-09-18T20:00:15.915-07:00An updateThere 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).<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
Laundry is one of the biggest things that makes me realize I am not in Kansas (or Maryland) anymore. Here is how it work:<br />
1. Realize that I have too few clean clothes left and tell myself to do laundry<br />
2. Nap instead because its hot - tell myself to do laundry on Sunday (wear smelly clothes the rest of the week)<br />
3. Wake up early on Sunday and realize I need to do laundry or continue to smell like a foot<br />
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) <br />
5. Put in soap and soak first batch of clothes in soapy water then scrub and squeeze clothes for a few minutes<br />
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. <br />
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<br />
8. Wring clothes out A LOT or else they won't dry and might mold over<br />
9. Lay out on fence to dry, being careful to avoid the small red ants (that sting)<br />
10. Repeat until no more dirty clothes<br />
11. Enjoy the rest of your day<br />
5 hours later<br />
12. Freak out when you are playing volley ball when it starts to downpour and know that your clothes are still outside<br />
13. Come home, thank host sister for bringing in your clothes<br />
14. Realize clothes are still wet<br />
15. Rig up high-tech MacGiver clothesline system in house because its still raining<br />
16. Wait two days until dry...<br />
17. Realize it took too long to dry your clothes and they now smell like mold<br />
18. See step 1<br />
<br />
Needless to say, I won't be complaining about doing laundry in the US ever again.<br />
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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.<br />
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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 <a href="http://www.marshmellowtravels.blogspot.com/">Kate's blog</a>, but here it is:<br />
<br />
PCT Chris Marsh<br />
Peace Corps<br />
<br />
P.O. Box 2453<br />
Phnom Penh 3<br />
Cambodia - US Embassy <br />
Asia<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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:<br />
-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)<br />
-Nutella (lack of chocolate here is astounding, but this stuff won't melt/spoil)<br />
-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.)<br />
-Individual drink packets - crystal light or any kind of tea in those packets are great!<br />
-A decent pack of pens<br />
-Crackers like wheat thins or whatever...<br />
-Granola bars, Cliff bars, fruit snacks...all are craved<br />
-Marconi and cheese...that would rock...<br />
-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<br />
-Also, for me, undershirts are a lifesaver with all the sweating, any kind will work and typically a medium fits me<br />
-It would help to pack things in sealable plastic bags or hand towels as both are needed here<br />
-Anything else you are so kind enough to want to send...<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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.<br />
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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!! <br />
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Well that about covers my fairly extensive update. Look out for my exciting conclusion to The Rat Saga later this week!Chrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01869647633208205867noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7482024483280758583.post-90115174498623036162011-08-25T03:05:00.000-07:002011-08-25T03:05:21.800-07:00The 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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
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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).<br />
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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. <br />
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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...). <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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Chrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01869647633208205867noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7482024483280758583.post-91181120793460582232011-08-20T23:15:00.000-07:002011-08-20T23:15:32.268-07:00The Rat<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">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.<br />
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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 </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">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. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I needed to give you that insight before plunging into my latest and perhaps most terrifying story since being in country.<br />
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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. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">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."<br />
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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.<br />
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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.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Her response was less than comforting, "Oh my god - really?! I am really freaked out right now. What are you going to do?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">In retrospect, I see the humor. In the moment, I felt like my fellow soldiers had just left me behind enemy lines. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">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." </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">(*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.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">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...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">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. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">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. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">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).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">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. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">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...</span>Chrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01869647633208205867noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7482024483280758583.post-8227535114789682722011-08-17T02:05:00.000-07:002011-08-17T02:13:58.056-07:00Welcome To The Family<br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond;">Hello all! <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond;">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond;">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond;">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond;">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond;">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond;">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond;">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Garamond;">One of my favorite stories so far involves this very phenomenon.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Garamond;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Garamond;">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.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Garamond;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Garamond;">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.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Garamond;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Garamond;">Kate rode by first waving and yelling hello back.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Garamond;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Garamond;">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.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Garamond;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Garamond;">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.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Garamond;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond;">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.)</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Garamond;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond;">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond;">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Chrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01869647633208205867noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7482024483280758583.post-77413291280011981132011-07-26T18:12:00.001-07:002011-07-26T18:12:57.155-07:00The Similarities (and differences)<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">So we are just starting Day 3 in coutry, and so far things are pretty great.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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”).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Already we have been told loads of information, keeping up is the only hard part.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After our first week of training I am sure we will really begin to feel overwhelmed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On one hand you have the chaos that is transportation, almost literally the lifeblood of the city.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Crossing the street in places like this can be fun, but ultimately dangerous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is better to wade into the busy streets slowly, like going into a cold river.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You need to let the people on vehicles know your intent soon enough for them to react.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Darting is not advised, as it catches everyone off guard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you go slowly enough, everyone usually just goes around the pedestrian without incident.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It takes balls though…</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Add to this, if you will, a variable smorgasbord of smells – some truly tantalizing and some absolutely frightening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cambodia is currently in the wet/rainy season now, so rain every day is not uncommon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of this probably paints a picture to those back home of a place so bizarre and different that it is difficult to comprehend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I assure you though, in the end, a city is a city is a city.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">People</i> 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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><!--EndFragment-->Chrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01869647633208205867noreply@blogger.com2