It is SO great to have my dad here! He really hasn’t stopped moving since he stepped off the plane. He hitches motos all over the city, wanders the markets and checks out the sights while I’m at work during the day, then we hang at night. He knows this place better than I do now, and I think he’s buddies with all of the tuk tuk drivers in town. I'm a pretty poor host at the moment as the majority of my day is spent at the school or working on assignments in an effort not to flunk out of grad school, but he's great doing his thing. He swings by the school in the mornings and spends some time with the kids and talks with the teachers. The ninth graders were working on a brochure and powerpoint presentation about Cambodia for visitors who come to the school, so they had their first presentation with Dad on Friday. It was great to see the kids so proud of their work, and my dad was encouraging (and genuinely impressed - that was cool).
The evenings have been busy – one night we hit the jazz club, the next we went to the night market for soup from a vendor (with added chili that made even the master of Tobasco cry). On Saturday we joined my friend, Chantou, and her family at the wedding of her nephew. It was actually the family celebration the night before the wedding, and we were happy and honored to be there. No dancing this time, but you can't win them all. The yellow and pink tent was in place, the tables and chairs in order. We ate fish and mango salad and other concoctions that bubbled on the table. I am now officially part of the family, as I was invited by an aunt into the house to observe the couple receive the blessing from the monks and take pictures with the bride and groom. Dad and I stayed for quite a while – long enough for all of the uncles to take over a table, break out the brandy and raise their glasses a few hundred times. They celebrated the couple getting married, celebrated Dad’s presence, then celebrated when my future husband arrived. I have been to enough family functions now that I have an arranged marriage if I choose to accept. We have never actually had a full conversation, but I think he’s the only one in the family who is within a couple of inches of me. So what’s not to celebrate?
The next morning we caught an early bus to Siem Reap, home of Angkor Wat and a thousand other temples. The temples really are the pride of Cambodia, so it was important to make the treck. They are quite unique, and Angkor Wat is massive. I’m sure the history is captivating if one were inclined to do the research. Dad and I left early Monday morning to explore the temples - many people take three days to do this… we were finished a little after noon and left quite satisfied. Both of us were more entertained by the tree of about eight million fruit bats and the lady on the corner who sold us dried snake, frogs on a stick and roasted crickets. We decided we could easily forego the popular tours and kick it with the monks and tuk tuk drivers on the street. The great thing is that everything is cheap – two bus tickets were less than ten bucks – fourteen dollars a night for a guesthouse with A/C – and frog legs for about twenty-five cents. Dad was so excited about a ten dollar ticket to Bangkok that he jumped on a bus to Thailand this morning. I’m writing this on a separate bus heading back to Phnom Penh for work and studying, hoping he shows up in Cambodia again at the end of the week. If anyone ever questions why I hopped a plane to Southeast Asia, there’s your answer. I love it!
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
One Week
The final countdown is here, and I’m experiencing the full range of emotions. I’m excited to be coming home, of course – especially for Christmas – I’m excited to see everyone and finally spend some real time with people. It is also hitting me, however, that this is the last week I will spend with the people I have fallen in love with here. I can use that term casually at times, but I truly have grown to love some individuals here and thinking of goodbye makes me hurt – the hurt that I can actually feel in my chest. I have left places and people before, and it has never been easy… but this seems very different. I don’t know if and when I will see them again. I have already cried many tears with teachers; I have learned in this phase that tears, like smiles, are a common language. Last week I was sitting at the table in our “office” with Srey, a teacher here. She was talking through a translator, and tears started streaming down her face – which prompted the same response from me. Another teacher came behind me and wrapped her arms around me. It was special – these relationships always have been. The same is happening in the classroom. I told the kids we had to sing our Christmas songs by the 14th, because the 15th is the day I fly out… and the entire atmosphere changed. The kids froze, and one girl covered her face. She started giggling because she was embarrassed that she was crying, but I joined her soon enough, and we all laughed. THIS IS ROUGH! But it indicates that a lot of very meaningful relationships were established over the course of the last year, and that was what I hoped for when I started this journey. We are making the moments count – I went roller skating with the ninth graders (which I really believe is more dangerous than riding a moto in rush hour traffic), then joined grade ten at the arcade the next weekend. Five eighth grade girls asked if they could come to my house to cook food together, so on Sunday they are coming to bake cookies. Those are the moments I treasure, and the memories that last much longer than a grammar lesson.
We will have a few more times together as a staff too – Friday we are going to the village of our security guard again, and Dad will join us this time. Dad and I have also been invited to the home of Thy, my dear friend from the school. He wants us to join his family for dinner, and a couple of my true blue bachelor colleagues will be there too (I have really connected with two of the guys at the school – all three of us are 30 and single, so we have our own club, which includes going to every staff party/event and chowing down). The final party will be the night we fly out. We are going to have a big staff dinner at the school before our midnight flight. The tenth graders are planning on being there too, and already have arrangements to accompany us to the airport on motos. They are so cool. I’m beyond grateful for the people at the school I have come to know and love. They have taken such good care of me for the last year, and have really become my family here. It’s amazing that such strong bonds can form despite language and culture. I’ve decided the idea of love and friendship and connection is a big ol’ mystery to me, but I get to reap the fruit of it, and I consider myself very lucky.
The most difficult person to say goodbye to is my friend Beate. We can party and play and laugh til it hurts, but we have also had some incredibly deep moments. She not only shared this leg of the journey with me, but became my other leg. She helped me stand. I find myself wondering why we meet people like this, then have to go separate ways. Man, I can’t even write this without choking up! A friendship like this surprised me, but it also gives me a lot of hope. I know there are very inspiring people willing to go great lengths for others (she gives and supports like nobody I have known), and I can see that powerful relationships will continue to be built if we are open to them. Here’s to soul sistas!!
I’m grateful to have Dad here as I leave. He has met all of my close friends and can now relate on a new level. His presence here is also a very good reminder that I have so many special relationships to return to. I am eager to have community and family, and my posse. I have a new appreciation for those things!! I’m happy that I get to sing with my family on Christmas and be home to greet the babies of my two best friends and start changing diapers. This transition phase reminds me of my Grandma Beryl – she would say,”This grand ol’ world in which we live is mighty hard to beat. There comes a thorn with every rose, but aren’t the roses sweet.”
We will have a few more times together as a staff too – Friday we are going to the village of our security guard again, and Dad will join us this time. Dad and I have also been invited to the home of Thy, my dear friend from the school. He wants us to join his family for dinner, and a couple of my true blue bachelor colleagues will be there too (I have really connected with two of the guys at the school – all three of us are 30 and single, so we have our own club, which includes going to every staff party/event and chowing down). The final party will be the night we fly out. We are going to have a big staff dinner at the school before our midnight flight. The tenth graders are planning on being there too, and already have arrangements to accompany us to the airport on motos. They are so cool. I’m beyond grateful for the people at the school I have come to know and love. They have taken such good care of me for the last year, and have really become my family here. It’s amazing that such strong bonds can form despite language and culture. I’ve decided the idea of love and friendship and connection is a big ol’ mystery to me, but I get to reap the fruit of it, and I consider myself very lucky.
The most difficult person to say goodbye to is my friend Beate. We can party and play and laugh til it hurts, but we have also had some incredibly deep moments. She not only shared this leg of the journey with me, but became my other leg. She helped me stand. I find myself wondering why we meet people like this, then have to go separate ways. Man, I can’t even write this without choking up! A friendship like this surprised me, but it also gives me a lot of hope. I know there are very inspiring people willing to go great lengths for others (she gives and supports like nobody I have known), and I can see that powerful relationships will continue to be built if we are open to them. Here’s to soul sistas!!
I’m grateful to have Dad here as I leave. He has met all of my close friends and can now relate on a new level. His presence here is also a very good reminder that I have so many special relationships to return to. I am eager to have community and family, and my posse. I have a new appreciation for those things!! I’m happy that I get to sing with my family on Christmas and be home to greet the babies of my two best friends and start changing diapers. This transition phase reminds me of my Grandma Beryl – she would say,”This grand ol’ world in which we live is mighty hard to beat. There comes a thorn with every rose, but aren’t the roses sweet.”
Thanksgiving Cambodia Style
This was one of the greatest Thanksgivings I have had. It was my first Thanksgiving actually preparing the meal – so I’ll start with a very big thank you to my mom and every aunt, uncle and cousin who has fed me during the holidays. Lot of work! The cooking adventure started the night before as I went on a dessert spree – yes, Betty freakin’ Crocker!! Really – I made pumpkin pie from a pumpkin, which I have never done, apple crisp, brownies, and coconut (creamless) pie – all in a gas oven the size of a medicine cabinet with no temperature settings. The crisp went in first at 8:00 pm and I started waiting for the sweet smell of cinnamon and apples… but nothing. It ran out of propane. Beate was helping me steam pumpkin, so she was able to talk to the gas guys (she speaks the language) and order a new tank before she left. It was great – like ordering pizza. 20 minutes later, two teenage guys showed up on a moto with a giant tank of propane.. first the wrong size, so a return trip.. and I was back in business. Hilarious.
The next morning I met Sok Ly, our school cook, and she took me to the local market. We weaved through bowls of fish and baskets of vegetables to get our20 kilos of potatoes and bags of onions, green beans, fresh corn, and salad building materials. We loaded everything onto her moto, swung by a bakery for day-old bread pieces, then made the first drop. Sok Ly helped me wash the vegetables, then quickly grew uncomfortable with the fact that we couldn’t communicate, so called the school for back-up help and translation. Within minutes, three tenth grade girls showed up at the door with plastic bowls and smiles. I explained what “playing hookie” meant,our vocabulary lesson for the day, then put them to work peeling potatoes. They were so excited to get out of school and really enjoyed talking in the kitchen – I LOVED that they were there. They were interested in learning about all of the foods – they didn’t understand stuffing at all, but loved it. While it was cooking, one of the girls totally caught me off guard - she leaned over the pot, took a deep breath, and said, “It just smells so damn good!” I died laughing, then had to return to teacher mode and explain that though she used “damn” in the right context (well done) it was not a great word for her to be using.
The teachers and some of their kids showed up in fleet of motorcycles when school finished that evening, and after a quick run to the corner vendor for seven chickens, dinner was served. The women came in the house and stormed the kitchen, helping with last minute prep, and the men asked if they could start drinking beer. The women quickly dismantled the chickens and rearranged the parts on the plates, propping the heads up in the middle. A new kind of "turkey" presentation, but beautiful. Beate left her husband to work and joined the feast as well, so everyone in my Cambodian family was present. I introduced the meal of mashed taters, stuffing, cranberry, green bean casserole and salad, and explained that the bird we eat is usually much bigger, but nothing in Cambodia is big. They had never eaten any of the foods before, but loved them – especially the desserts. We also roasted corn on the grill, which was awesome, but standard cuisine here. Only one person asked if there was rice, so I considered it a success, though I still have mashed potatoes coming out my ears. It was so fun – we ate on the outside entry on mats, and a couple people embraced the idea of sharing what they were thankful for. It was a special night – I was happy to have everyone come to the house and spend time together.. eating... more/again.
The next morning I met Sok Ly, our school cook, and she took me to the local market. We weaved through bowls of fish and baskets of vegetables to get our20 kilos of potatoes and bags of onions, green beans, fresh corn, and salad building materials. We loaded everything onto her moto, swung by a bakery for day-old bread pieces, then made the first drop. Sok Ly helped me wash the vegetables, then quickly grew uncomfortable with the fact that we couldn’t communicate, so called the school for back-up help and translation. Within minutes, three tenth grade girls showed up at the door with plastic bowls and smiles. I explained what “playing hookie” meant,our vocabulary lesson for the day, then put them to work peeling potatoes. They were so excited to get out of school and really enjoyed talking in the kitchen – I LOVED that they were there. They were interested in learning about all of the foods – they didn’t understand stuffing at all, but loved it. While it was cooking, one of the girls totally caught me off guard - she leaned over the pot, took a deep breath, and said, “It just smells so damn good!” I died laughing, then had to return to teacher mode and explain that though she used “damn” in the right context (well done) it was not a great word for her to be using.
The teachers and some of their kids showed up in fleet of motorcycles when school finished that evening, and after a quick run to the corner vendor for seven chickens, dinner was served. The women came in the house and stormed the kitchen, helping with last minute prep, and the men asked if they could start drinking beer. The women quickly dismantled the chickens and rearranged the parts on the plates, propping the heads up in the middle. A new kind of "turkey" presentation, but beautiful. Beate left her husband to work and joined the feast as well, so everyone in my Cambodian family was present. I introduced the meal of mashed taters, stuffing, cranberry, green bean casserole and salad, and explained that the bird we eat is usually much bigger, but nothing in Cambodia is big. They had never eaten any of the foods before, but loved them – especially the desserts. We also roasted corn on the grill, which was awesome, but standard cuisine here. Only one person asked if there was rice, so I considered it a success, though I still have mashed potatoes coming out my ears. It was so fun – we ate on the outside entry on mats, and a couple people embraced the idea of sharing what they were thankful for. It was a special night – I was happy to have everyone come to the house and spend time together.. eating... more/again.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
KC in Cambodia
It is so great to have my dad here, and he is absolutely loving it! Four of the teachers joined me to welcome him at the airport with trumpets and a red carpet - they were very excited to meet him, and even at 11:30 p.m. were all smiles. The town was deserted at midnight, but Dad quickly jumped into the traffic on the back of a moto and joined the madness of the city as it comes alive in the daylight hours. I haven't been able to slow him down! He takes off during the day and we meet up when I'm finished with work - keeps saying "This is better than Disneyland!" He came to the school the first morning and spent some time with our director and teachers. Everyone loved him immediately, and within minutes he received notes from the second grade girls, asking him to play. The teachers now have a cup of coffee (or three) ready for him every time he shows up, and they are truly delighted by his presence. One woman said, "You are so happy - you are a good person to be around when I am not." Ain't that the truth! I agree - he has such a strong presence. I have already felt a change in my spirits - his enthusiasm is helping me have a renewed excitement for the school and the kids and the city. It is still kind of surreal - I felt so removed from the rest of the world, and now my pops is kickin it with me in a tuk tuk! We have been laughing a ton - it is so fun to talk about what's happening around us, and his stories from each day are hilarious... the looks he gets, the loads he sees, the interactions with people as he explores Phnom Penh. He has been bartering with women at the market and getting some sweet deals on rides around the city... I need to take some lessons. We are going to attend a Cambodian wedding this weekend, which will be such a good cultural experience (woot woot - more dancing and food!) and then we are heading to Siem Reap to see Angkor Wat and the other temples. I planned on running the 10K, but my back gave up on that idea about a week ago. We may do our temple hopping by bike - both of us know how to work up a good sweat, so that will be our workout. Not much time to write these days - busy working and playing! But there will be plenty of stories to share, guaranteed!
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Visitors!!
I am getting SO excited for my dad to arrive in Cambodia in TWO WEEKS! I can't believe that he will be here, and I'm counting the days now. It is going to be such a special time for me (and hopefully for him) as he joins me on this leg of the journey. Really, it will be kind of surreal to have him here, as he is usually sitting on the other end of a Skype session. I am happy to have my two worlds connect - for him to meet the people I talk about, to interact with the kids I love so much, and to experience all of the funny things that will happen simply by riding our bikes down the street. I'm really eager to share this part of my life with someone I'm so close to. And it's really important to mention that my dad is straight up hilarious and game for anything - really, one of my best friends - so we're gonna have a good time! The best running commentary ever. His visit couldn't come at a better time - the last couple months have been pretty challenging, but I also know it will be difficult to say goodbye. It will be nice to have some extra support. I don't know how I won the parent lottery, but I'm sure grateful.
The teachers are excited too - Thy, my close friend at the school, asked if he could take my dad fishing, and he also wants us to join his family for dinner in their home, which will be really special. I wanted to plan a trip to one of the villages, so we're going to the homeland of our security guard during a holiday in early December. We'll ride out on motos and eat some form of pig or fish and laugh. It's going to be great.
I'm also excited about another plan - Thanksgiving, Cambodia style! While you are watching football, we are going to be cleaning up after a staff dinner, too! I invited all of the teachers to my house for Thanksgiving since they are my family here. It will be a little different - I'm going to buy chickens from the vendor down the street since there aren't any frozen turkeys and I don't know how to catch a duck. But I will find potatoes and cranberry and do my best to make stuffing and pies and green bean casserole. This is a pretty big endeavor for me, since my role at Thanksgiving is usually manning the spinach dip and dessert table - but I'm going to give it the ol' college try, and either way, the teachers will say nice things. They may not mean them, but they will be kind. It's a safe crowd for my first Thanksgiving. If everything burns up or melts down, I can always make rice, boil some vegetables and call it a night.
Some great things to look forward to in the next month!
The teachers are excited too - Thy, my close friend at the school, asked if he could take my dad fishing, and he also wants us to join his family for dinner in their home, which will be really special. I wanted to plan a trip to one of the villages, so we're going to the homeland of our security guard during a holiday in early December. We'll ride out on motos and eat some form of pig or fish and laugh. It's going to be great.
I'm also excited about another plan - Thanksgiving, Cambodia style! While you are watching football, we are going to be cleaning up after a staff dinner, too! I invited all of the teachers to my house for Thanksgiving since they are my family here. It will be a little different - I'm going to buy chickens from the vendor down the street since there aren't any frozen turkeys and I don't know how to catch a duck. But I will find potatoes and cranberry and do my best to make stuffing and pies and green bean casserole. This is a pretty big endeavor for me, since my role at Thanksgiving is usually manning the spinach dip and dessert table - but I'm going to give it the ol' college try, and either way, the teachers will say nice things. They may not mean them, but they will be kind. It's a safe crowd for my first Thanksgiving. If everything burns up or melts down, I can always make rice, boil some vegetables and call it a night.
Some great things to look forward to in the next month!
Friday, November 5, 2010
My life as a very serious runner....
It has been a while since I have written anything – my mind is going ALL the time, but getting thoughts down seems to take some time. Between teaching at the school, working on assignments for grad school, and eating, I seem to run out of hours. I realized that one of my favorite aspects of this culture is the importance of eating – I just plain love food, and I commit time to the things I love. I learned a new Cambodian saying: “Don’t hide your stomach”, which is funny, but not something I want to necessarily embrace. SO, because I like to eat, I like to run. Well that’s what people say – “running”, but of course it’s jogging at a very average to slow pace. Regardless of terminology, Cambodians clearly don’t see many women running around the streets of Phnom Penh, so it is a daily adventure (well, every-other day-ly). I have been running during my lunch hour, which is clearly a bad idea because it is the hottest part of the day, but it’s the time that works. So every run starts with me saying hello to the motodope driver who is perched on his bike outside our gate and nodding when he points at the sun and shares a painful expression. I run down one of the long roads, which is pretty busy at noon, and trust that the cars, trucks, motos and bicycles will give me a few inches. This can be a scary stretch, because the idea of space isn’t a major concern, and most people seem to think that a gap of three inches is more than adequate for passing. I don’t know how safe you would feel standing three inches from a grizzly bear, but being at that proximity from a speeding Lexus or a cart stacked with rebar doesn’t feel very safe at that distance. I’m still standing, so the course is working out. The humor comes when I pass people. Now, I realize I resemble a baby giraffe when I jog, but come on. The old women standing on the sidewalks stare, then smile when I say hello. A few have tested the new move, then quickly stop. The children shout, “HEL-lo!” and ride their bikes in circles around me. The young guys mock me, running along the side of the road (also like baby giraffes), and a few have chanted “mouey, bpee, mouey, bpee” (“one-two-one-two”) – one tuk tuk driver even made the effort to use his fingers to count for me as he drove by with a goofy grin. Everyone else just points and laughs. A guy drives by with four tanks of propane, a dead pig, and 14 live chickens on his motorcycle, and nobody bats an eye… I run by, and people act like they are at a parade. Sometimes I get irritated, but I have to remember where I am and who I am. ‘Normal activity’ is really relative. I have been able to have some cool interactions – there are three little kids who run up to me every time they see me truckin’ down the street, and I do love that. The only things that really scare me are the stray dogs and gangs of tuk drivers on the corner. The dogs aren’t so threatening, I suppose – they are all pretty small – but none of them are trained, and they are pretty unpredictable. Some dart after me, and some just look like they are plotting an attack. All of the men who walk in the mornings carry long sticks. I think there is some proverb that says to walk softly (or speak softly – neither of which I do) and carry a big stick – I’m understanding why. So far, no bites, no rabies. I’m hoping to run the 10K at Angkor Wat in December. There is also a half-marathon, but let’s not get crazy – I threw the shot put in high school for a reason. It should be a lot of fun, and I will at least be with a group of runners and won’t have to face the ridicule of the “street.”
Today I joined a 5K fundraiser at one of the international schools. The course was great – through back allies, along a pond of dried up water lilies, through a field (hopping cow pies) and along a strip of the main road. One section consisted of bricks, stones and smashed tiles. I am proud to announce that I won the women’s group with a time of 29:08. Very impressive, I know. I have never been first in any kind of footrace, and I don’t know how it could happen with that kind of pace, but anything is possible here. Obviously, there weren’t many people. It kind of reminded me of an episode of The Office – if you’ve seen it you’d laugh. The important thing is that I got a chocolate bar.
Today I joined a 5K fundraiser at one of the international schools. The course was great – through back allies, along a pond of dried up water lilies, through a field (hopping cow pies) and along a strip of the main road. One section consisted of bricks, stones and smashed tiles. I am proud to announce that I won the women’s group with a time of 29:08. Very impressive, I know. I have never been first in any kind of footrace, and I don’t know how it could happen with that kind of pace, but anything is possible here. Obviously, there weren’t many people. It kind of reminded me of an episode of The Office – if you’ve seen it you’d laugh. The important thing is that I got a chocolate bar.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Pchum Ben
Last weekend I joined one of my close friends, Chantou, and her family in the province to celebrate Pchum Ben, a special Buddhist holiday, also known as “Ancestor’s Day”. It was by far the best experience I have had here; for four days and three nights I was invited to be part of her extended family (really extended – I couldn’t count the number of aunts, uncles and cousins, but it was a party!). So many memories were created in a relatively short time, and by the end of the first day, I felt like I was part of the family. We left early Thursday morning with the rush of traffic, leaving the deserted city behind us. I bought a ten dollar helmet and rode the back of a moto (small, red, with a basket) for two and a half hours, putting my life in the hands of Chantou’s nephew… really, a Dumb and Dumber moment. It was a beautiful ride through the rice paddies, but six inches of seat isn’t much to work with. We met up with the rest of the family at the edge of the river and loaded our bags, bodies and motorcycles onto a narrow wooden boat. The riverside was vibrant with color – trees and water lilies floated on the surface of the Tonle Sap, and houses built high on stilts lined the banks. After crossing the river, we transferred our bags to a big ol tuk tuk – the tuk-wagon, I called it – which was driven by one of the uncles. This was our ride for the weekend – it carried us through the village, off roads, and up to the mountain… with a little pushing. It carried about twenty of us at that point, but we definitely tested its maximum capacity later.
The area was so green – trees and other plants grew along the road, tall palm trees stood in the distance, and small mountains were painted in the background. I felt like I could breathe a little bit easier… I’m small town, so I felt more at home there than in Phnom Penh. We drove through the small market and along the red dirt roads that took us to the home of Chantou’s mother and father. They are beautiful people – her mother is hilarious, full of stories and expression, and her father, very serious and observant, yet warm. They welcomed me with open arms, plenty of food, and a straw mat. I met the rest of the family as well – I couldn’t tell you their names, but they all took care of me, making sure I ate as much rice as I could stomach and didn’t go without a can of Angkor – “My country, my beer!” Molly, sit – Molly, eat rice –Molly, take a bath, take a rest, take a photo - Molly, we go now – Molly, dance! I was clearly the outsider, but never did I feel like it. It was oddly familiar and comfortable, which was a pretty cool feeling, considering I was in the company of virtual strangers.
The weekend was packed with memories. They danced and sang karaoke all night for two nights, cranking power for lights and four huge speakers from a small greasy generator. I joined, of course, and earned the favor of the ladies across the street, who imitated my moves the next morning when I visited them for coffee. We toured the village and surrounding area, winding through fields and mountains, dodging cows and water buffalo. Kids rode shirtless on bikes, and women walked cattle along the roads. Many parties were in full swing in front of houses and at the pagodas – music, dancing, and shouts as we drove by. We went to the pagoda on Friday morning. Chantou’s family prepared food to take to the monks – rice and curry and fruits and meat – and they dressed in their traditional formal clothes, the women in long silk skirts and white beaded tops, and the men in silk shirts and pants. Later in the day, we visited the temple of their ancestors, the place where they put the bones of family members who have passed away. They offered wrapped gifts, burned incense and prayed inside the temple, then four young monks sat with the family. An elder sprinkled water on the family members with the leaves of a branch… and then we drank orange Fanta. Obviously, I didn’t understand everything that was happening, but I felt honored to sit with them and witness it nonetheless. From there we jumped the fence of a local school and strung a rope between two poles for a game of volleyball. We had to share the court with three cows, which I later learned are the same breed as those used for bull riding, so it was necessary to mark the eNORmous cowpies with plastic bottles. The cows got a little restless when we got into our second game – they kept moving in on our territory, so the guys chased them off with sticks. It kept them at bay until one got feisty and turned on us. He started grunting, then lowered his head and went after Chakrey (cousin). Really went after him – at a much faster speed than I would have anticipated from a cow. So Chakrey took off, and the chase was on… the cow left him to run down Chantou’s daughter, who started screaming and sprinting, and after she jumped into a tree for safety, it charged after me. I don’t ever remember being quite so scared, to be honest. So with all the speed I had (which isn’t much, of course), I ran for the steps of the school and the protection of a pillar, everyone joining me in my half-scream-half-laugh. More scream. “You have red shirt – it’s like Espain! Ha ha!” We all stayed in our safety zones until the mad cow got hit with enough rocks from Chakrey and left. We called the game, and rode four to a moto back to camp. Hilarious. We laughed about it for the rest of the weekend. So many moments to lock away – we climbed the rocks of a waterfall with the district governor and his bodyguards, hiked the backside of the mountain, then bought boiled eggs for the tuk ride home. We stopped for coconut on the way back – a cousin and the tuk driver shimmied up the trees and threw about thirty of them down while we waited below with axes and straws for immediate consumption. Really, such unique experiences. Maybe the most authentic was bathing in a sarong from a well… a little uncomfortable at first, but… when in Rome! I also gained a real appreciation for my mattress after sleeping on the wooden floor for three nights. I slept with Chantou’s daughters on the covered porch – we shared a mat and a mosquito net.
My favorite moments came at unexpected times. Just sitting on the floor, listening to Chantou and her family share stories and laugh. I dozed in and out, as I couldn’t understand what was being said, but there was so much love. I enjoyed sharing meals with them, of course, and as always, they loved that I ate their food. Before we left, each of the families sat with the grandfather and received a blessing from him. He extended a blessing to me as well, holding my hands in his. He wished me health and success and love, and I thanked him with more sincerity than he probably knows. It was special. We returned to the city – by tuk wagon, boat, and moto – stopping at the homes of every aunt, uncle and cousin who couldn’t make it to the reunion. We caravanned back to Phnom Penh, one car, one tuk tuk, and five motorcycles. I knew I was in with the fam when we stopped at a roadside rest area and they ordered me lunch - rice, boiled egg, and fried frogs wrapped in lettuce. I really feel this experience was the result of developing a special relationship with Chantou over time. I was able to experience real life, real traditions, real family interactions. And I was able to really enjoy it, knowing that I would be able to share similar moments with my own family soon. I feel like every experience here helps me appreciate life more.
The area was so green – trees and other plants grew along the road, tall palm trees stood in the distance, and small mountains were painted in the background. I felt like I could breathe a little bit easier… I’m small town, so I felt more at home there than in Phnom Penh. We drove through the small market and along the red dirt roads that took us to the home of Chantou’s mother and father. They are beautiful people – her mother is hilarious, full of stories and expression, and her father, very serious and observant, yet warm. They welcomed me with open arms, plenty of food, and a straw mat. I met the rest of the family as well – I couldn’t tell you their names, but they all took care of me, making sure I ate as much rice as I could stomach and didn’t go without a can of Angkor – “My country, my beer!” Molly, sit – Molly, eat rice –Molly, take a bath, take a rest, take a photo - Molly, we go now – Molly, dance! I was clearly the outsider, but never did I feel like it. It was oddly familiar and comfortable, which was a pretty cool feeling, considering I was in the company of virtual strangers.
The weekend was packed with memories. They danced and sang karaoke all night for two nights, cranking power for lights and four huge speakers from a small greasy generator. I joined, of course, and earned the favor of the ladies across the street, who imitated my moves the next morning when I visited them for coffee. We toured the village and surrounding area, winding through fields and mountains, dodging cows and water buffalo. Kids rode shirtless on bikes, and women walked cattle along the roads. Many parties were in full swing in front of houses and at the pagodas – music, dancing, and shouts as we drove by. We went to the pagoda on Friday morning. Chantou’s family prepared food to take to the monks – rice and curry and fruits and meat – and they dressed in their traditional formal clothes, the women in long silk skirts and white beaded tops, and the men in silk shirts and pants. Later in the day, we visited the temple of their ancestors, the place where they put the bones of family members who have passed away. They offered wrapped gifts, burned incense and prayed inside the temple, then four young monks sat with the family. An elder sprinkled water on the family members with the leaves of a branch… and then we drank orange Fanta. Obviously, I didn’t understand everything that was happening, but I felt honored to sit with them and witness it nonetheless. From there we jumped the fence of a local school and strung a rope between two poles for a game of volleyball. We had to share the court with three cows, which I later learned are the same breed as those used for bull riding, so it was necessary to mark the eNORmous cowpies with plastic bottles. The cows got a little restless when we got into our second game – they kept moving in on our territory, so the guys chased them off with sticks. It kept them at bay until one got feisty and turned on us. He started grunting, then lowered his head and went after Chakrey (cousin). Really went after him – at a much faster speed than I would have anticipated from a cow. So Chakrey took off, and the chase was on… the cow left him to run down Chantou’s daughter, who started screaming and sprinting, and after she jumped into a tree for safety, it charged after me. I don’t ever remember being quite so scared, to be honest. So with all the speed I had (which isn’t much, of course), I ran for the steps of the school and the protection of a pillar, everyone joining me in my half-scream-half-laugh. More scream. “You have red shirt – it’s like Espain! Ha ha!” We all stayed in our safety zones until the mad cow got hit with enough rocks from Chakrey and left. We called the game, and rode four to a moto back to camp. Hilarious. We laughed about it for the rest of the weekend. So many moments to lock away – we climbed the rocks of a waterfall with the district governor and his bodyguards, hiked the backside of the mountain, then bought boiled eggs for the tuk ride home. We stopped for coconut on the way back – a cousin and the tuk driver shimmied up the trees and threw about thirty of them down while we waited below with axes and straws for immediate consumption. Really, such unique experiences. Maybe the most authentic was bathing in a sarong from a well… a little uncomfortable at first, but… when in Rome! I also gained a real appreciation for my mattress after sleeping on the wooden floor for three nights. I slept with Chantou’s daughters on the covered porch – we shared a mat and a mosquito net.
My favorite moments came at unexpected times. Just sitting on the floor, listening to Chantou and her family share stories and laugh. I dozed in and out, as I couldn’t understand what was being said, but there was so much love. I enjoyed sharing meals with them, of course, and as always, they loved that I ate their food. Before we left, each of the families sat with the grandfather and received a blessing from him. He extended a blessing to me as well, holding my hands in his. He wished me health and success and love, and I thanked him with more sincerity than he probably knows. It was special. We returned to the city – by tuk wagon, boat, and moto – stopping at the homes of every aunt, uncle and cousin who couldn’t make it to the reunion. We caravanned back to Phnom Penh, one car, one tuk tuk, and five motorcycles. I knew I was in with the fam when we stopped at a roadside rest area and they ordered me lunch - rice, boiled egg, and fried frogs wrapped in lettuce. I really feel this experience was the result of developing a special relationship with Chantou over time. I was able to experience real life, real traditions, real family interactions. And I was able to really enjoy it, knowing that I would be able to share similar moments with my own family soon. I feel like every experience here helps me appreciate life more.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)