How New Year Divides Us: Third Edition

Singapore's finest.

There are many new articles and editorials documenting how 2011 was so crappy, mostly on account of the global economy (and the Kardashians). For me, this was entirely true. After the amazingness of 2010, 2011 was born into failure. The first half of the year was rough. I finally verbalized my worst fear in late June; Cambodia was a mistake. It wasn’t in July that things began to turn, when I learned the swing of work, finally realize what I was here to accomplish, and made a solid group of friends. So not surprisingly, the majority of this list happened later 2011. 

Luang Prabang Laos: I took a night train to Laos! I took an overnight bus in Laos! I ate sticky rice and curry in Laos! This tiny landlocked country stole my heart with its mountains, its food and its darling obsession for outlawing motos. But walking around the former mountainous country’s former capital city of Luang Prabang, by the beautiful old temples and the Mekong was a memory to cherish.

A little of Mondlekiri...

East Timor: Is it possible to climb up a statue of Jesus, go driving, snorkeling, kayaking, dance the poka poka, visit Marynoll sisters in a far off mountainous “village,” and eat cod-fish with the Portuguese on Christmas Eve…and within one week? It most certainly is! My family live on this pleasant little island, and they are doing well.

Mondlekiri: Perhaps my favorite day in Cambodia thus far happened in Mondlekiri. Renting a moto and driving through the mountains; pine trees, Thai food and one unique eco lodge, waterfalls, calm and quiet, and sunshine mixed with rain. Mondlekiri was one favorite piece of a fabulous month-long visit from my very favorite person.

The EED Grant: I’ve never written a grant or proposal in my entire life (my college failed me in that respect). So imagine my surprise when the first grant I had ever written for $40,000 USD for my one partner was accepted by German funder EED? I earned my wings as a partner adviser. 

Yes I am a safe driver.

The Day they “Got It”: I can clearly remember the day when at my partner, we brought in an outside consultant to discuss our M&E framework (what I had been putting together for the past several months with two national staff). He loved it, and a light bulb went on for the national staff. I knew in that moment that they got it. It was validating of our work together, and appeased doubts that they would never understand the purpose of documenting one’s work. Moments like these reward us service workers who often question if we're doing anything right.

The Temples of Angkor (credit to Jon)

Rain driving: During the rainy season, sporadic bursts of rain are inevitable. It happens often when you’re driving. There is something completely joyful about splashing through giant puddles with rain coming down so hard you can hardly breathe. (Provided you have no valuables on you.)

Singapore Orchid Garden: Singapore’s Orchid Garden was perfect. Cambodia doesn’t afford many green spaces, so sitting down next to a bed of orchids was almost too much for me to handle. It was almost a restoring of a soul; that natural untainted beauty does exist, even in small little places, and in small flowers. It was also one of the cheaper things to do in the over-developed Singapore.

Angkor Wat: I’ve been to Angkor Wat twice now. I don’t love Angkor Wat because it’s so freaking hot out there and you can’t see the temples without becoming completely exhausted! However, it’s a pretty spectacular sight to see. Everyone should see it once in their life (I think Jackie Kennedy said that).

Laos Beckons

Learning to Drive: I’ve written so much about driving moto in Phnom Penh and the countryside. It’s because I just love it that much! The day when I leave my beloved moto (affectionately known as “lake boo-in” or “Number Four”), I might actually cry.

The Team: The vast majority of the MCC Cambodia team arrived within Cambodia in a 10 month time-frame. As a result, our three-year terms will all overlap a good two years. This solid group of couples, mostly non-Mennonites who have all extended their homes, their fridges, their humor and stories, their vacations, their friendships, and (in one case) their firstborn red-head child to me. I will prize these friendships for life. (This also includes the one-year “interns” or “saltines” who I have been happy to count among my friends.)

A little Timor with the little siblings 

I am so excited for 2012; challenge filled certainly but one hopefully filled with joy. I look forward to:

·         New friendships and deepening present friendships

·         Visiting new places and countries

·         Seeing my family and dear ones again

·         More late night skype conversations

·         Completing GREs

·         Possibly a half-marathon...

·         Above all else, finally getting my partner on board with the M&E indicators I wrote last September. (No one ever said capacity building or even communication was easy.)

How Christmas arrived in Phnom Penh

So how does my dearest Phnom Penh express it's festive side this Christmas time.

Well, first of all, Christmas is not a national holiday. So kids will be in school, businesses will be open, and your 24-hour mart (even though realistically it's 7 to 9 joint), will be open.

However, Christmas fever seems to have bitten the town (along with Dengue, another story).

These are the things I have noticed (yet neglected to photograph):

• Imported Western candy at Lucky supermarket (including candy canes and personal favorite, holiday Hershey Kisses)
• There have been two Christmas markets, where social enterprises are selling their good to the mostly expat community
• Multiple blow-up Santas in front of mini-market
• One favorite coffee shop (Brown) has a peppermint latte
• Multiple sales at various establishments (including clothing shops and craft stores)

Finally, I don't know if this coincides with Christmas, but there are twinkle lights all along Noradom Avenue (crooked but still so pretty!), and green, blue, and white twinkle lights around Independence Monument. Independence will also have lights on the little shrubs around it (not unlike little Christmas trees) and the fountains will be playing with coordinated changing color lights. Noradom Ave and Independence Monument are often decorated for national holidays and festivals. One of my favorite things to do in Phnom Penh for holidays is to loop the Independence round-about several times, drive up Noradom, circle Wat Phnom at the top (which will also have special spot lights), drive back down Noradom, loop Independence once again, and drive home quite happily singing songs to myself. For just a little while, everything feels just a little prettier.

Perhaps it's because I will see my family over the holidays, but I am feeling the holidays. I still sweat everyday, run the AC at the office everyday and on swimming on Saturday. Yet I am steadfast in my belief that Christmas may not be hijacked by cold weather people when demographically, more people live in climates similar to Cambodia.

Incidentally, Phnom Penh has also taken to recently posting banners declaring itself "the Charming City." I take great offensive to the use of the word charming in this situation. Unless however we mean trash in the gutter, no zoning, monster Chinese-styled buildings in tiny lots, stupid one way streets, zero sidewalks, very few trees, and chronically aggressive motodup and tuk tuks. Phnom Penh is near and dear to my heart, clearly. However, charming in this context has been hijacks. In fact, I have declared this city..."The Crazy Town."

How to Summarize Work in 2011

This week at my organization, we completed the task/chore known as "review and planning session." We talk strategy and the all important budget. We talk about what we've done over the past year, the tasks we've completed, and what we'd like to focus on over the next year. As part of this, we each brought a few paragraphs on lessons learned over 2011. I drank a lot of coffee before I wrote mine. I like mine! The length is ideal for a short blog post. Therefore...here are a few lessons learned over 2011.

An Essay on Words
For Review and Planning December 2011

The word which defines 2011 is "confusion." Perhaps "inadequacy" is a close second. I officially started work as a partner adviser on 2 January 2011. Since then, I've experienced a barrage of challenges and confusion in both partner and MCC work; deciphering roles, expectations, limitations and the constant changing of roles, expectations and limitations. We rush to meet deadlines to find they are artificial dates. We painfully debate which fork in the road to take, when they both arrive at the same destination. We struggle to communicate simple tasks. We battled irrelevance. Such is life. Such is life in Cambodia. Such is life when you embrace flexibility, and wait attentively for life to teach you. Last December, I choose "patience" as the virtue to define this year personally. I don't know if I've learned much about patience but I've had the opportunity to practice it.

As I pass 14 months in Cambodia, observations on country-specific challenges to peacebuilding revealed a new word. So much of what occurs here is based on this word, "fear." I have seen the reality of being caught in the paralyzing grip of deep cultural fears. I have faced the reality of becoming fearful, and seen how we can imprison ourselves to bondage of our own making, in paranoia both real and perceived. I've examined fears affecting my work in Cambodia. I fear inadequacy, that I’ll fail to consider cultural factors, that I’ll fail to listen, that I’ll fail to lead by example... And as such, fear that this word will define me, has become an incentive to consider motivations, and how to live a fear-free life.

I've not choose a word for this coming year. The overall word I wish I define my life is "joy." I like to think I will see more in the coming year now that my feet are established and relationships are developed. Our colleague someone once mentioned to me that a good educator will set their teaching curriculum just outside their own knowledge base, to inspire themselves to learn outside what they already know. I find myself resonating with this idea. I've considered how this require patience, freedom from fear, a confrontation with inadequacy, a commitment to joy. I don't know how to sum that up in a word, but if I could, that would be the word for 2012.

How to Attend a Khmer Wedding

In the words of a colleague, "how come you have been here so long and haven't been to a wedding?" My sentiments exactly. As of Saturday, this was finally crossed off the bucket list.

It's almost a struggle to write about this experience. It was short and anti-climatic and I felt out of place for most of it. However, because weddings are universally interesting, I share pieces of this experience.

In the morning is a ceremony. I did not go the ceremony. It was at 7am, and after the invitation debacle, I wasn't going to push it (I was promised an invitation but didn't get one, cross-cultural confusion). The ceremony is fairly standard. The groom with his family and friends parade up to the bride's house two-by-two with plates of fruit as an offering/dowry. They are invited in and the family will quiz the groom and the bride to be sure it's a good match (it's an amicable formality)...and they are pronounced married. 

In the evening is the party. Everyone is invited. Absolutely everyone. Guests bring the standard $20 in the envelop that your invitation came in. This is supposedly to cover the costs the the party, food, band, venue, etc. Someone takes the money and writes down exactly who it's from and how much they gave. This is very important. When someone from your family gets married, it must be appropriately returned. Therefore, if I gave $40, this couple would be morally bound to give $40 at my wedding. This is so very important, and if you weren't going to return (or raise it), you might as well not come to my wedding (but if you didn't come, you would lose face). Alas, no one said social rules were easy. 

Women are expected to dress up like it's the the red carpet at the Oscars; hair, hair extensions, stage-make up, nail extensions, sparking heels, and vibrant colors. Maybe half the women wear the traditional skirt and shirt, which is very sparkly. The other half wear more Western "prom" dresses. Men can wear anything they want, preferably not not polos, but I did see a few polos. In keeping with half the expectations set forth, I went around the block to get my hair and nails done...but I did wear a very Western dress. I don't anticipate dressing up any more then this, for the rest of my life.

This wedding was at a restaurant, so after shaking the couple's hand at the entrance, I went up to the hall. Each table seated 10 people and the drinks were already on the table (pepsi, tonic water, Angkor beer). When a table was full, food would come. When the food was finished (this food did exceed my expectations, in all honesty), you could mingle or they could leave. The single most notable feature of all Khmer weddings is the alcohol. This is how it is. This wedding was absolutely no exception. It's a party. The beer will flow without ceasing, without judgement, and without moderation. 

At the end of the day, sitting in a giant hall alone with 375 people who don't speak much English and are greatly enjoying the local beer and whiskey mixed with tonic water and ice chunks....isn't really my thing. Maybe if I hadn't gone alone (I think I was allowed a plus one, but another point of confusion). Maybe if I had been more committed to the whiskey mixed with tonic water and ice chunks. Maybe...if I was Khmer. After about three hours and feeling very white and out of place, I left early. I did miss the dancing which I regret (moving slowly around a potted plant while your fingers flex in a circular motion...done it before). Alas, but I also had an invite to Thanksgiving dinner after-party so that was the next stop in this eventful evening. 

At least I kicked two things off the bucket list that night. 1) Attending a wedding. 2) Riding side-saddle on a moto taxi. For this reason, the evening was successful. 

How to Drive a Car in Phnom Penh (Part II)

"The traffic code is aiming to provide the prestige and effectiveness regarding to protect the traffic safety, keep public orders/security of the national society, prevent the public properties, lives and advantages of people and State from eventually damages. Globalization, is targeted to educate all people to obey the rules and mobilize them to share in strong opposition to the guilty acts which will breach to the traffic regulations."

Have you ever heard anything crazier?

I think not.

This was on the first page of my little driving manual, right under "the purpose" (as if there needed to be a purpose for a driving manual). This darling booklet included four pages of "rules," four pages of signs, six pages of diagrams, and five pages explaining car parts and various dashboard lights. The English is horrible. Many of the rules and explanations don't even make sense. I rediscovered this when cleaning out recently. I acquired my license in July. It was almost worth coming to Cambodia, just for this experience.

I finished drivers ed in April. However, because of scheduling and visitors, it wasn't until July, I presented myself to my driving school and announced my intention of passing the test. I was given this manual and a photocopy of the written road test, and told to memorize it. This was exam prep, Khmer style. So for about a week, I laid on the cool tile on my apartment floor and memorized the eight page test.

The following week, I drove my moto 45 minutes north of the city to a random outpost where driving tests are administered (ironic that I would have to drive myself so far north, given the reason). I wasn't entirely sure what to expect. One never knows. Asking for specifics is ludicrous. I finally located a Korean looking man, and followed him, knowing I needed to find other foreigners. I was one of three non-Asian in a group of 30 foreigners. We were herded into a room and given the written exam. It was about 80% of what I had memorized. I was the first one done in under five minutes. After waiting over an hour for the result, I was informed that I had failed.

Having failed, I could not take step-two, the road test. I was honestly baffled. No matter how scores were weighed, it seemed unlikely I had failed it considering I had memorized 80% the answers. I suspected this is the step where one greases hands. But I was too proud for that. Maybe I can't drive, but I can memorize.

So I went back the next week, driving in the pouring rain 45 minutes north to this random outpost. There were only about 15 other foreigners this time, including a very old American guy with his super young Khmer "lady-friend." This time, the test was exactly the same as the one I had committed to memory, word for each horribly translated English word. It didn't matter. The test proctor told the very old American guy sitting three feet away from me the answers, pointing to the correct multiple-choice answers on the page.

After passing the written part, we walked through the rain to the driving course for the road test. It had been several months since I had last driven a car and my brain was scrambling to pull up indicators. But I reminding myself that no matter what the outcome, this experience could only become infinitely more hilarious. So with great confidence, I climbed in the ancient white Toyota Corolla (the door barely latched shut) in the pouring rain. Three "proctors" roamed the course while I was driving, barking out orders and corrections. It went well, until I had to make a three-point-turn. That was a failure. It got worse when my parallel parking attempted ended up on the curb.

It was hilariously embarrassing, and the original conclusion was that I failed. But after negotiations between the woman from my driving school and the three proctors, they agreed to let me pass (this is where having relationships and connections in Cambodia truly matters). Incidentally, the very old American guy drove the course backwards (obviously not the sharpest crayon in the box). He passed. Several weeks later, I went back to the driving school to pick up that precious piece of plastic that gives me legitimacy to continue driving.

I had only ever requested that the experience of learning to drive in Cambodia be hilarious. It was just that, completely hilarious, rendering me completely satisfied. The final golden lesson from my darling little booklet is as follows (direct quotation): Be careful in driving is driving art leading us to have always life. 

How to Make an FGD Successful.

Before arriving in Cambodia last year, I had never heard of a focus group discussion (or FGD). I don’t know how that happened. I have a university degree in a social science field. But I had never heard of a focus group which is mildly embarrassing. However, now I do and recently I attended my first focus group.

Here’s the story.

I do a lot of monitoring and evaluation in my job. One project was to evaluate a program which involved my partner helping their partner train commune council mediators in family mediation models. Mediation is surprisingly common in Cambodia. However, normally a respected “mediator” simply tells conflicting parties who was wrong and how to fix their problem…which doesn’t always fix problems or work towards attitude changes.

So these 12 mediators went through a six month course on listening, looking for feelings, maintaining neutrality, helping parties generate options, and when it’s appropriate to give advice.

I was part of the follow up team, conducting a focus group to understand how much they’d adapted the training content in their practice. We asked them to share stories, to share what they learned that was useful, what they wish the training had included, and what they might do differently in future mediations.

This involved driving three hours to Kampong Cham Province on a Monday morning. It involved sitting in a floor (knees together, the polite way) and listening to these delightful people tell their stories. It was in Khmer, but thankfully one of my colleagues with impeccable English was there to me. Afterwards, we ate fried rice and drove the three hours back to Phnom Penh.

We had several challenges. First, observers coming and going during the session (there should be no observers). Second, there was a tight time constraint (we ran out of time). Third, 12 people is really too many (should have had two groups). Finally, the space was long and narrow so people on one side of the room could not hear the other side. My team noted these as important considerations for future FGDs.

A unique challenge to Cambodia is that no one wants to make anyone else look bad, and no one wants to cause you to lose face. As a result, people will tell you what they think you want to hear. This is an added dynamic when people are in large groups, speaking about their experience working with your organization…they will tell you everything was great even if they loathed the very core of you existence. Knowing this, most the FGD involved posing scenarios and asked people how they would respond, “if your son was skipping school, what would you do?” Shifting attention away from yourself helps, but there is always a chance that the data isn’t accurate because people are only telling you want you want to hear.

In general, the FGD facilitator should,

• Paraphrasing to find key strengths
• Maintaining confidence and neutrality
• Ask open-ended unbiased questions
• Move the conversation along
• Encourage everyone to speak
• Help the group understand that no answer is correct, all ideas are valued

Part of my responsibility with this focus group is the analysis. Over December, I’ll be going through transcripts looking for trends, themes, and lessons learned, and understanding how we can improve our training to better meet needs for people like these Kampong Cham mediators.

A personal goal is to facilitate an FGD. It might not happen in Cambodia. In fact, it would be very rare for this to happen in Cambodia. But one day…such a nerdy little life goal…it’s on the bucket list. 

How I can't Write about Mud.

Sitting with my dear friends Michael and Lisa in Prey Veng last Saturday night, I posed Lisa this question. “What will I blog about this week?” She had just updated her blog about Mud. Her street is a mud pit from the flooding and I had even hosed down the muddy shoes outside the house that day. In fact, all of Prey Veng Province is muddy from the record 10-year flooding. Naturally, I had to think of something equally enthralling to blog about. I can't write about mud because I haven't experienced mud like Lisa has. I have to reflect on my own experiences, or perhaps I can reflect on the experiences and stories of those around me.

Just the night before I’d heard stories from another colleague who’s teaching macroeconomics at a rural Cambodian university. He has great stories, about eating dog, kicking dogs who attack him while jogging and playing ping pong with a professor who skipped classes to beat him at ping pong.

Then there was the Danish lady in Prey Veng province doing her PhD research on domestic violence and battering in rural Cambodian settings. We discussed the data she had collected in her latest focus group about perceptions of rape. The data was fascinating; our reactions to said data were shock and horror.

Which reminds me of another interesting person. She’s Italian and volunteering as a monitoring and evaluation consultant with an NGO that does similar work as my partner. We swapped challenges and tools for M&E and then I learned about her, how she’d just completed her PhD in historical anthropology (which is about when my ego crashed), and she’d just decided against getting married and was moving to Cambodia long-term. Completing a PhD and then entirely switch careers, interesting.

Thinking of my partner organization, I consider the interesting donor visit from Friday. Two people from our one donor organization and four pastors came to understand about peacebuilding and the overall partnership. They were Australian, and they were absolutely enthusiastic about talking with me and our director. In normal life, I normally have to keep conversation flowing, but this time I scarcely had to ask one question at all. The enthusiasm and excitement about our work was all the encouragement I needed. 

Still thinking of my partner organization, I was asked Friday if I’m going to wear a traditional Khmer outfit to a colleague’s wedding at the end of November. I deflected (because I don't wear sparkles), and asked her if she had obtained her attire yet. She replied that she got obtained all her wedding dresses, though she won’t be going the customary 13 or 14 bridal outfits. Then I was asked how many outfits American brides wear. “Just one, sometimes two, but it’s often very expensive,” I respond. They were not impressed.

Of course this could not top my favorite Cambodia interaction of all time. I walked in late a staff lunch at my partner organization the weekend after an unusually short haircut (it was definitely short). A male colleague saw me and commented, “Grace, we haven’t had hair this short since Pol Pot time. Have you been to Toul Slang [Genocide Museum] and seen the pictures of the girls with the short hair? You look just like that.” It was futile to explain I was going for “Amelie” from the French film “Amelie.” I felt very insecure, and probably went very red before repeating my standby line of self-defense..."it’s different in my country.”

I cannot believe how delightfully surprised and blessed I am to meet such fabulous people who share pieces of their lives with me, and who's stories sometimes intersect with my own life. However, you don’t have to live overseas for similar amusement. You just have to be live your life.

How to Enjoy Mondelkiri

Can you still blog about a trip which occurred nearly five months ago? I think so. Particularly if it was a good trip. This was a very good trip. I've been delaying visits to the beach given the overall seedy reputation of many beaches. I also don’t particularly like sand. It’s grainy. Thus, looking into research of other options when a very special visitor came through (the most important visitor), I wanted to do something different. I wanted to confirm this rumor that there are really pine trees in Cambodia.

"The Tree Ocean"

Cambodia for the record is as flat as Kansas. (For the record, I’ve never been to Kansas but I know people who have, and the attest to this fact). Anything remotely resembling a bump on the landscape is called a “mountain” and typically has a wat on top. However, if you travel east towards Vietnam approximately eight hours, there are real hills. These hills mildly resemble what I remember from a life long ago in Kenya. Mondlekiri Province is famous for,

a)    Waterfalls

b)    Avocados

c)    Coffee bushes

d)    Illegal logging

Have a little hilly countryside....

Sen Monorom—the provincial capital—is about an eight hour bus ride from Phnom Penh. Several years ago, the road was nonexistent. However, the majority is delightfully smooth. It's a very off-the-path destination since it's so very far from Siem Riep, Sihanokville, and even Phnom Penh. There is also plenty of elephant riding, though this did not feature on my voyage out. In my four day trip to Mondlekiri Province, there were several delightful experiences I would strongly suggest replicating.

1. Nature Lodge. I’ve never stayed at an eco-lodge before. It’s almost like camping. The food was good. The atmosphere was relaxed. And I got to sleep in a tree house with hot water
2. Wearing sweaters. It’s the only time I’ve worn a sweater in over a year. It cools down. And it’s awesome.
3. Driving motos. This will feature on my annual “best of 2011” list. There is nothing quite so fabulous and driving through rural roads enjoying this relatively prosperous rural province. We didn’t find many of the locations on the map, but can you top driving on red clay roads looking for waterfalls? Only with your moto can you explore and see for yourself the unique little places off the beaten path, like the "Tree Ocean."
4. Waterfalls. The largest Cambodian waterfall is 30k outside of Sen Mororom. I regret not getting to that (I do need to go back anyway). However, there are plenty to see, and waterfall hunting is half the fun.You can also swim in most of them, since there really aren't any prohibitions. 



A hilltop wat outside Sen Momorom

5. Pine Trees. Enough said. Pine Trees on rolling hills, what more could anyone want?

I’ve been meaning to go back ever since I went. I will go back. The hint of New-Yorker in me craves hills, and shadows on pine trees. There are so many beautiful places and I feel that behind every hill is only more beauty and secret magical places to discover. So please, hold your breath, there will be a follow-up post.

PS...photo credit to my dearest Jon (because I'm the writer, not the photographer.)

This Post is for Cambodia Year One

It's a terribly odd thing to realize that I've spent the whole of 12 months in Cambodia. It's been fast, it's been slow, it's been something of a rocky moto ride...the moto has stalled out repeatedly...and crashed...[end of metaphor]. I'm now the kid one year out of college and while I know lessons have poured on me like a Cambodian thunderstorm, it's impossible to even label all these lessons much less apply them. However, as I conclude Year One in the Kingdom of Wonder, I'm trying to solidify some of the key messages I've heard.

It's okay to consider rain: It's alright not showing up for meetings if it's pouring rain. However, you must text or call beforehand. There are standards.

Little Can Be Planned: Meeting re-schedules several time, last-minute fixes to every conceivable problem, waiting on tuk tuk drivers, waiting on reports... Flexibility defines our lives, and flexibly must define us.

Lovely People/Strange Culture: I can't quite wrap my head around some cultural norms here. Why do men have to marry women a minimum of five years younger? Why must you have children your first year of marriage? Why is everyone so polite and friendly, except when driving? How can you be content living in a hierarchical social structure? Why do I have to allow people to save face when there are heinous mistakes involved? I've been amazed how pleasant and friendly people are, given decades of chaos and social instability. I love Cambodians, but I'm continually baffled because the culture is so drastically different from mine.

Noise is relative: If you have a party, you must have a PA system blasting the neighborhood with anything from traditional folk songs to Justin Beiber to Jay-Lo until midnight. You are entitled this right, the same way Americans are entitled to "the pursuit of happiness." And when your neighbor had a wedding or funeral or party and returns the favor, you are required to tolerate it..."today it's me, tomorrow my neighbor..."

Paranoia is real: There is fear of going out late because in the '90s there was so much crime (now, there's very little). There's fear of questioning authority...because you just can't. There is fear of ghosts...because they bring death and destruction. Finally, there is fear of talking about the past, because there was so much death and violence...and culturally you can't talk about your mistakes. So tragically, we are bound and gagged by the fears that we ourselves create which prevent us from moving forward and breaking cycles of violence.

Corruption is Real: I have mentioned this before, Cambodia is 154 in the Transparency International Corruption Perception Index. For many, this is simply how it's done and no one gives it a second thought. For others, like me, I still grow upset. Some call it an alternative way of paying taxes. It's painful know it's real. It's painful people are thrown off their land because they don't have current title deeds, and painful that hundreds of hectors of "protected forests" are destroyed because officials are paid off.

Any Question Goes: How much do you weight? How old are you? Why aren't you married? How much is your rent? How much was your moto? What's your salary? In a world where manners matter, saving face is crucial and heaven forbid we end up alone and don't know why, the above questions are exceedingly normal. And when someone rubbed my stomach after lunch and told me it was very nice, it was also perfectly normal.

Growing up is hard: Growing up means learning how to live, pay your bills, build a resume, budgeting,  and balancing work and personal. These are all lessons which I'm learning, and I'm learning them here. It's been a relatively smooth transition, but there have been bumps on the road. I'm still learning how to manage expectations and how to cook better...

Cambodia hasn't been what I expected. I'm not doing the job I was "hired" to do, but I've learned to love pieces of life anyway. There are daily struggles and self-doubts which don't go away. Is this the best way to do development? Are we really building capacity? Do any of us belong here? Are we avoiding systemic injustice because it's not "easy?" Am I personally doing enough to warrant being here? I didn't expect to ask these questions so often. I can't fix Cambodia. I can't fix my organization. I can't fix my partners. I question if I can even fix myself.

Which is why I've concluded that this is about learning. This is just about learning. That was the main purpose of the 12 months between October 2010 and October 2011 and it will define October 2011 through October 2012. I try to soak up everything and seize every opportunity to learn. Because that's all you can do, listen and learn. As my dearest friend Kaylee tells me, "if you're not learning, you're not living."

How Time is Everything

I spent last Saturday afternoon in a coffee shop drinking a lemon shake. Leaving, I ran into someone I know, who introduced me to his wife (I knew of her, but didn't know her) and we proceeded to ask the normal set of global nomadic questions, "who are you with? where are you from? how long have you been here? how long will you be here?" For me, the answer to the second two questions is "one year" and "two more years." This was met with respect and admiration which made me feel validated, particularly because it was Saturday so I was dressed like an absolute slob.

The occurrence left me thinking as I left to run errands. Time is the Global Nomad's greatest asset. This was my conclusion based on this odd chance encounter (which was otherwise awkward because she thought she knew me and I thought I knew her but neither of us really did but we were still pretending that we did and I was still dressed like a slob).

The longer you have been in one location, the greater your legitimacy. You're not one of those short-term-ers. You're clearly committed. You're clearing in the game for the game's sake. I started reflecting back on the people I have respected overseas. Many of them have spent decades overseas in any given country and often they are incredibly humble and quiet people. We respect them because they are deep wells of knowledge. We respect them because they have invested in place far from their home. We respect them because they represent what we ourselves will likely never achieve for whatever complicated reasons.

I have never been that nomad. My intervals abroad have been short and any legitimacy comes from my overall duration overseas. Now I'm in the interesting place of being committed to one place for a fair amount of time. Apparently with that comes expectations of legitimacy as a Cambodian expat. It's odd. That's not my story and while three years is hardly that long, in a world of two-year turnovers, it's indeed odd.

But then again, I honestly don't know my own story. I certainly don't know much about Cambodia. I think of myself as racking up time overseas as time overseas, because that's what we do! The only thing legitimate about me...I legitimately dress terribly on weekends.

How to Visit Singapore

All glammed up

While waiting to board my Singapore-bound plane last Saturday, I realized something; "This is my first international vacation." Sure I'd traveled domestically in Cambodia and in the United States. But this was the first time I decided to leave the country (on my own) for a vacation. And then I panicked because maybe I was misinformed and did need a visa even though I thought I didn't because I had to commit some grave mistake. Alas though, I didn't need a visa, I didn't commit any grave mistakes (besides picking up a disgusting stomach flu), and Singapore was everything I thought Singapore would be.

Orchid in the Garden

Singapore is an anomaly. It's rich. It's prosperous. It's shinny and you can eat of the metro floor. It's an island nation-state. And it has the death-penalty for drug trafficking. Singapore was given perfect geographical location, the same way some people are born with IQs over 115, and in both cases, the world is handed to you on a silver platter. They say location is everything, and they say it all comes down to economics.

I wanted to go because I found super cheap airline tickets, and because I wanted to see if it was really as upscale as everyone said it is. It is as upscale as everyone said it is. In fact, it's more so. I probably saw four Prada stores in addition to every other luxury brand under the sun. I saw the Formula 1 Grand Prix. I saw Orchard St which rivals the Champs Elysee. And I saw AC pouring out of every available vent which horrified all environmental sensibilities. 

A piece of the botanical gardens

But the most beautiful of Asian cities did provide a fabulous vacation. I soaked up the beauty of the Botanical Gardens (complete with a swan lake, a rain forest, a jungle and an eco-garden section). I road a bike down the coastal East Coast Park watching the joggers and the ocean of sea containers. I admired the divine orchids in the National Orchid Garden where there is a section called "VIP Orchids" showing up the exclusive Singaporean hybrids. I enjoyed sitting on the harbor-front next to the hideous yet famous Merlion, watching the turning Singapore Flyer, the sparking lights, and the silly tourists. I walked through Chinatown, Arab Street and Little India, which were certainly inauthentic but no less worth consideration.

The famous Merlion

Naturally, no trip to Singapore is complete without a trip to the malls. There are so many malls. There are more malls on this island then...then...there are a lot of malls. The best (and often the cheapest) food is in malls. The cleanest bathrooms are in malls. Also, the best people watching is in malls. Finally, you are more likely to die of frostbite in these malls, then anywhere else in Southeast Asia. 

Cambodia is so sadly unnecessarily poor, and it's easy to loose perspective and hope. But then there's Singapore. Cambodia will never be Singapore, but maybe one day we'll have more then three malls selling only goods from China. Maybe Cambodia will have a park one day (a true park with true grass). Maybe one day Cambodia will have a vibrant diverse society that seems to enjoy it's diversity. But for now, I'll just have to go back to Singapore to experience all the above.

How There is No Fall

I didn't grow up with Fall/Autumn. I grew up where there was dry season and rainy season. So when I observed the magic that is Fall/Autumn last year and the year before, I was unspeakably enthralled. The leaves literally changed colors and fell off the trees against the flawlessly blue skies! And then, there was squash at the store! And there were pumpkin flavored bagels and coffees! And then, we got to wear cute hats and pretty scarves. Fall was fabulous. My first year, I thought it was sad watching my beloved trees die. The second year, I was further North where the leaves are more beautiful and it didn't bother me quite so badly.

Even though I only saw two falls, I concluded it had potential to rival my favorite season of all time, summer. People from New York are supposed to love fall, therefore this fatal attraction is genetic. I learned that long walks with leaves crunching underneath is magic. 

Even through I only saw two falls, I strangely miss it. As my Cambodian existence shifts through rainy season, and September flies by, I'm well aware of the pumpkin bagels being consumed, and the cute hats being worn, and there is some nostalgia. Life in Cambodia and indeed a majority of my life has been a perpetual summer. I love summer! But this uniqueness that is Fall in Northern North America is priceless and non-replicated anywhere else.

For now, living in eternal summer, I'm marking the passage of time by vacations. Sure there are seasons, but I'd rather mark it by my vacations.

This Post is for 9/11

I watched the 9/11 date encroaching. The headlines weren't exactly discrete but I will admit that I avoided facing it. And yet it came. And with it came the feelings I remember as the 12-year-old kid standing in front of a hotel TV in Colorado Springs CO exactly 10 years ago. That was the day I really put my finger on what terrorism was/is. That was the day I first learned of Osama bin Ladan. That was the day I learned when the Cold War ended, and what the Cold War was. That was the day I wondered how much life of my life would change.

In some ways, life didn't change. We went back home to Nairobi and kept on homeschooling. But we stopped going to crowded places. Flying became the horrific experience it is today. We listened to how people hated George Bush on both spectrums. We discovered being American came with baggage and troublesome and started identifying ourselves as "from home," or from "Nairobi" (I still tell people I'm from Zimbabwe, because I did come from there...four years ago when I lived there).

I read a headline recently calling my generation, "the generation that knew only war." It's true there has been a lot of war since 2001. People say my generation doesn't understand how serious 9/11 was because we were to young. People say my generation doesn't know what peace is. I don't think I'll ever forget the feelings of loss, hopeless, confusion, fear, horror and shock that I remember so clearly. I grew up because of 9/11. I realized the importance of current events, politics, economics, and social awareness which came to define me. 9/11 marked my transition into adolescence which coincided nicely with the wars which coincided nicely with acne and overall awkward confusion of the teenage years. 9/11 was part of my life. It's still part of my life. I remember how the world came to be what it is now and this is the world that's been given to me and where I aspire to leave a small lasting positive impact. The 9/11 era I belong to isn't black and white. There aren't good guys and bad guys. Instead, things are less-defined, less predicable, less "American."

Optimistic people say that you can't control what happens to you but you can control your response. I might have said that too...in some of my previous posts. But sometimes you wish life hadn't screwed you quite so badly. I wish it hadn't happened. But it did. And you can only be sad and pray for healing for yourself and the world around you.

How to Visit Prey Veng (Second Edition)

My latest (and fourth) adventure in Prey Veng Province centered around partner visits. I had wanted to visit our rural ag partners but the opportunity took a while to present itself but when new people arrive on staff, all the good partner visits occur. I surmised our "rural ag partners" by definition were quite far outside Prey Veng town. But somehow 90 minutes is much different on a moto then in your head. I love the driving puzzle of people and vehicles. But that's driving in Phnom Penh. But then there's driving in Prey Veng Province.

Day One involved a visit to CSUK, a small rural university where MCC has seconded a short-term staffer as an economics and marketing prof. How does one get there? "Drive to Vietnam. If you get to the boarder, you've gone too far." Thankfully it's only two turns and it's right off the main road, even though we thought we got lost going out (you just keep driving). Highways for motos however are terrifying. You can actually go up to 60kph (one never gets about 40 in Phnom Penh), except the chickens, dogs, small children, bikes, and massive transport trucks will demand a piece of the road with you. It's also brutally hot in the sunlight on black tarmac at 11am in 88 degree weather with 100% humidity. However, we drove out there all 90 minutes of it, met with the director, visited host families, and ate fried rice. I drove back, and ran over a dog's back leg and tail. That was exciting. 

Day Two was the epic voyage out to our flagship agricultural partner ODOV in Mesang District (which just received the prestigious "good governance" certification from the overarching NGO forum). It was truly over and hour and a half getting out there on mostly dirt roads through villages and rice fields going 25 kph to avoid small children and animals. Yet hours later when we got there, we were allowed to dig in the demonstration garden and learn about a few Cambodia gardening techniques adapted for global climate change. 

Next on the list was yet another partner NILH, another small agricultural partner also working in health. We drove another 45 minutes to get there on dirt roads. We did two site visits with them in very rural communities to see the chickens, pigs, ducks and rice fields. After that, very tired, mildly sunburned, and definitely dirty, we headed back to Prey Veng central. It was yet another hour and  half journey, expect this time, there were massive passenger buses flying by towards Vietnam which have the magnificent power to completely rattle little moto drivers. There was also some brilliant high speed winds coming from a giant black thunderstorm dead ahead which serves to both terrify little moto drivers, and provide incentive to drive faster.

We couldn't work all the time. Over the weekend, there was a long bike ride in the flooded rice paddies and a boat ride on the seasonal lake, craft projects, movies on newly obtained flat-screens, and make-shift smores over a Cambodian charcoal fire. The province should bring out your adventurous side, and your creative side.

The moral from this visit to Prey Veng, you too can drive like a maniac. And secondly, respect must be given to long-distance rural moto drivers (including my colleagues who work out there) because they are truly the fearless ones. And how does one drive in rural Cambodia? Avoid all oncoming objects when possible (not always possible), and really, when you end up in these situations, you'll be surprised what natural instincts kick in. 

How My Partner is the Best

• I should explain why my partner is the best.
• I should explain what a partner is.
• I should explain how my partnership being the best and the existence of a partner intersects with my global nomadic identity.

My job title is “partner advisor.” It’s quite straightforward. I advise partners. Specifically, I work closely with a partner doing peacebuilding. I help with their monitoring, evaluation, research, donor relations, English report writing, strategic planning, and list making (I’m a really good list maker). I was brought over to help write curriculum for their “peaceful family program.” They changed their minds before I got here. It ended up being great. I’m not a social worker. I tick-boxes and I adore social science research.

So while I work with a North American organization, I really work for a Khmer organization specializing on conflict transformation and mediation training for Khmer church and social service leaders. We work with partners who share our vision for positive social change and assist them to meet their goals. By meeting their goals, they are making Cambodia peaceful, which my North American organization can say they helped with, which hopefully makes everyone in the entire world (including our constituency) very happy.

My partner is the best for many reasons:

• We do peacebuilding (how is that not the best?)
• We are well known and loved (I get street-cred being their advisor)
• We are receptive to organization learning (no one digs in their heels when faced with change, instead, they’re excited)
• We make sure each other’s needs are met (you’re allowed to have personal problems and leave work to fix them)
• We listen to each other (no one gets out-voted, it’s called consensus)
• We have monthly lunch meetings to share information (and someone translates for me)
• We have one week dedicated exclusively to “staff capacity building” every year (this year, I did a one-day session on connections between development and peacebuilding)
• We have awesome staff retreats (which we spend several months debating before consensus is met)
• We’ve never had anyone leave, in our six year existence (and we’re proud of it)
• We’re a giant family. We even marry each other (yes, the accountant and mobilization unit leader are getting married in November)

My partner is the best because they push my boundaries while not pushing me too hard, too fast, or too far. This is true for everyone. They give me challenges, but encourage me along the way. It’s completely realistic to assume your partner will drown you. I have colleagues who often feel overwhelmed with their partners. But I’ve been blessed. Peace Bridges is teaching me more than I'm helping them but as long as we find joy and peace in the process, we are achieving peace and relationship building. As global nomads, we take what we’re given, and we’re excited when it works out, and even more exciting when we find that in one corner of the world, our cynicism is actually misplaced.

This is why my partner is the best. And here’s to two more years of drinking coffee and building a peaceful Cambodia. 

How Rainy Season Changes Life

What would you do in you lived in a country where there are pounding thunderstorms and sheets of white rain almost every afternoon? What would you do if you didn't have a car to get places in said thunderstorm? What would you do if your street flooded, and the street next to that, and garbage was floating in it.

Such is life in rainy season, or so I am learning. Last Thursday, it decided to pour at 5pm. Rain storms take on a life of their own. You never know if they will last for 20 minutes or six hours (speaking from experience). I waited until 5:10pm, and then decided I had enough of waiting. I left all my stuff at the office, and drove the 30 minutes home. Naturally this story does not end well. I was completely soaked, but good news was that my phone which made the journey with me, is still completely functional (I can't kill it, which means I can't get a new one).

Rainy season 2011 has been mixed and unusual. It should rain every single day at the same time without fail between May and September. In May it starts raining in the early morning for several hours and by September it's raining in the late evenings for several hours.  I typically welcome the rain because the pressure will built up before rain and it's unbelievably muggy. If the rain doesn't come, it's a long hot evening.
A day can start completely sunny and within the span of one or two hours, a black thunderstorm will spit lightening and rain spitefully at you as it fills the streets with several feet of water (the drainage system in Phnom Penh is inadequate by far, partly due to "the reallocation of funds"...that's code).

However, this year, the rainy season was slow starting . We didn't get much rain until June, and even then it started in the afternoon instead of the morning. It hasn't rained everyday, and we'll go for several days with pressure and mugginess. This year there has also been massive flooding because of phenomenal deluges which last for half days instead of the customary several hours.

In rainy season, most clever people travel with a slicker, or poncho. However, I'm not always a clever person. My raincoat wards off. Many clever people put their belongings in plastic bags which they hide under their ponchos. But I loath plastic. Instead, we plan our days around the weather. It's acceptable to be late or not attend a meeting if it's pouring rain. The streets will empty with motos except for the brave souls in their ponchos.

Also worth mentioning, at least 70 people have died of lightening in Cambodia this year. Why children are not taught to stay indoors during storms is a mystery. Understandably, storms come on quickly and people are in rural rice patties, but still....but still...absolutely preventable deaths.

How to Visit Laos

I can proudly report that I’ve been to Laos PDR. Not many people can say that…but then again…not a lot of people are insane. I was endlessly excited about this trip because it sounded like exactly the sort of place that I would enjoy but never go without the added motivation; beautiful but inaccessible, remote yet uniquely so.

Overlooking Luang Prabang and the Mekong

The real reason I went to Laos was for my work’s annual regional retreat. However, my four day travels before the retreat was my motivation for going. I went early to visit Luang Prabang which is a 12 hour bus trip or a 45 minute flight north of the capital Vientiane. It’s a UNESCO world heritage site.

However, getting from Phnom Penh to Luang Prabang took 30 hours of travel across three countries on two planes, one sky train, several metros, one night train, two buses, and three taxis. This is how not to travel to Laos.

Train Station in Bangkok

From Phnom Penh I flew to Bangkok, about an hour away. I hadn’t been to Bangkok since Thanksgiving 1998, so I was delighted to wander. I went to the Weekend Market (good choice), went to the famous Siam Paragon Mall (good choice), went to Starbucks and bookstores (good choices), and ate Pad Thai and Thai green curry. Bangkok is big and developed and modern. Phnom Penh is not. So the contrast played tricks with my mind.

At 8pm, I boarded the night train to Nong Kai Thailand on the Thai-Laos border. It’s a 12 hour ride on a decent train and when you sleep on the lower bunk, you sleep pretty well. Sometime in the night it started to pour rain. When I woke at 6am, it was still pelting rain. I learned from another passenger that Nong Kai was flooded out which completely made sense so we were instructed to disembark the station before Nong Kai and they would bus us to Nong Kai.

Night Train to Laos!

So maybe 75 backpackers and myself got soaked to the skin scrambling to get on a pink-tasseled bus. The driver wasn’t clear. He left some people in Nong Kai town, he left some people at the Nong Kai station (flooded out, as expected), and some of us he left at the Friendship Bridge border crossing. I got off at the border crossing, and was quickly re-soaked in the process of leaving Thailand and entering Laos. I had specific directions for getting to Vientiane via the train, but in this wet-wasteland border crossing, I was tired, nauseous, displeased and lost. 

I learned after entering Laos that Vientiane is essentially a border town which was a relieving discovery. So I got a taxi and went to the airport, just in time for an 11:30am flight to Luang Prabang. In Luang Prabang, it was sunny, and there were hills, and there were work friends, and there was a shower. And it was awesome. 

Boat Ride on the Mekong to the Caves

Luang Prabang is a medieval kingdom’s capital, turned French vacation town, turned backpacker’s destination, which then went chic. The town and its vicinity boasts over 65 wats which are beautifully preserved by monks is bright orange robes. The town oozes French charm fused with Asian taste. There’s nothing like it anywhere in the world. Located on the “Mighty Muddy Makong,” there’s a tall “hill” in the middle with a stunning views of the countryside. 

Luang Prabang is meant to be relaxing. So we visited wats, and coffee shops, and road bikes in the pouring rain. We took a boat up the Mekong to visit caves with thousands of Buddhas, and stopped at cultural villages to buy scarves. We ate at street markets, browsed through tasteful art galleries, and shopped at what many consider Asia’s best night market. Best of all, we took long walks in the temperate climate. You can’t walk in Phnom Penh. People just think you’re strange. But in Luang Prabang, we were just more white backpacking tourists. I’ve never been happier to be a white backpacking tourist.

 Night Bus to Vientiane

After almost three days in the beautiful mountainous mecca, our work responsibilities summoned us away from my favorite Asian town. Some of our group flew back to Vientiane. I decided to take the night bus, along with another couple from work. I had heard it was a terrible way to travel but it gave me a while extra day in Luang Prabang. Sure enough, it was 12 hours long. For six of those hours, I was slightly aware of the switchbacks every 15 seconds, and that sections of the mountainous road were washed out. We stopped for watery soup at 2am, and after that I took enough motion-sickness pills to sleep through the parts of the ride where people through up continuously (according to a companion). 

Beautiful Wats in Luang Prabang

Vientiane seemed more like a village then a capital city. Apparently the government is very intentional about how they are allowing the city to develop. Until then, it’s like walking through…a super small town. We met with the rest of our group and road yet another bus yet another two hours to our retreat venue, on a dam, in the middle of nowhere. That’s the part of the trip where I got sick with the flu.

Going back after retreat wasn’t fun. The night train to Bangkok was considerably less pleasant, meaning going into a full day in Bangkok, I was tired and cranky. Some of my colleagues made the excellent decision to watch a movie. Theaters are a phenomenon which travelers from the outback of Cambodia drool over. So we went to a theater to Harry Potter, followed by Thai food, followed by a trip to the airport. We got into Phnom Penh at 7:10pm. By 7:37, I was home. It was only then that I was finally able to dry out my damp clothes.

I would go back to Laos. I would even live there. Because they make the best sticky rice. 

How to Learn (August 2011 Edition)

I've recently been slammed with several opportunities to talk about what I'm learning. I talked about learning on retreat, in progress reports, in several of my personal relationships and in other informal setting. I was even asked, "so what do you do, to learn?" I thought this was a very odd question and it actually amused me. But I did think about it. 

I also thought of an analogy. Learning is like a waterfall. The constantly moving river of life won't stop hurling itself over the ledge of change while you stand underneath and wonder what on earth is going on. When you're standing under the waterfall, all you see is life coming at you while you doggy-paddle childishly. It's also the rainy reason in Cambodia, so the river is expanding. And such is life, utter chaos.

So how do you learn? Well, first, you start by doing something you don't know how to do.

Secondly, you do it over and over and over and over again. Practice makes perfect, apparently. I don't know about that, but practice teaches you, and practice keeps you humble.

And third, you figure out what it was you were learning, but this happens when you're old (sometimes dead).

I don't really know what I'm learning. I learned how to drive. I learned how to bake bread. I learned how to travel on the night train. I also (I'm proud of this) learned how to kill huge bugs in my apartment (which involved destroying my mop, long story). For the above situations, you have a baseline (can't do it), indicators of success (get on train, wait for bread to rise), and then the end-line (I can do this activity!). These were the easier things that I've learned recently.

But for life...who knows. Am I more patient? Am I more empathetic? What have I learned in Cambodia that's worth adding to my repertoire of healthy and admirable behaviors, attitudes and values?

Who knows. If anything, learning is non-linear. It's not a neat process like baking bread or driving to work. You take steps forward, and then you backtrack, and then you have a breakdown sobbing on the floor binge drinking pepsi lemon, and then eventually and mysteriously you're excited and try again weeks later with only moderately depressing results, and then you end up going in a different direction. I know that didn't make sense. Learning doesn't make sense either because no matter what conventional wisdom or self-improvement would have you believe, it's a long and complicated process with unclear results. However, it will happen. Because time doesn't actually stand still and we're constantly facing new situations which have the potential to teach us.

But, at least I do something I don't know how to do...a lot...too much actually...exhaustively in fact. So I must be learning. In fact what's written here is one lesson I've learned. Maybe one day I'll be able to label and quantify what I'm learning at this stage in life. After all, hindsight is 20/20...if I'm alive then.

How to Live Alone

I learned something in the months after I graduated uni. In college, being single means you're not in a relationship. In the real world, single refers to your marital status. So I was always single in college and I'm still single in the real world. In both situations, the term is not exactly used complimentary, therefore, years into this dilemma, I'm still perplexed as to it's utility.

It didn't bother me being "single" (in the real world sense) while living overseas until people started asking me if it "bothers" me being single. Being bothered about what bothers me is far more bothersome then being actually bothered by something. I must admit, it blindsided me. I didn't realize it was acceptable to directly ask people if they like being unmarried. The short answer to this bothersome question is "uh...well I chose to come here...and I'm here." I have been known to say the following: "Statistically speaking, the average childless middle-class college-educated American woman marries at 29. I'm on the better end of the feminist movement."

So what bothers me about "singleness" overseas? Difficult question. It's like being asked how I feel about not being blonde. Well...I've never been blonde. Based on my years overseas, I know that often young adults think marriage is the answer to many overseas problems. "It would just be so much easier living overseas if I was married." I've heard this countless times. Strangeness is easier with someone else and life is better when you're not alone. You have someone else to count on in culturally-shocking circumstances, someone to help you quantify and qualify your strange life in it's complexities. Someone else between you and the over-sized stranger the next airline seat over.

I can empathize with the point of view because I've been in plenty of awkward situations by myself I dreadfully wish had never occurred. My personal opinion is this, humans are designed to be in a variety of close relationships (family, friends, spouses, mentors), but we are complete people. Living alone in Southeast Asia thus far has honestly been good for me. It's forced me to go forth and conquer, to stand up for myself, to be self-reliant and self-aware, to consciously go out and make friends, and finally, to read a lot of great books. I have my special people and they look out for me, and I look out for them. It's not easy facing strange things by yourself, but you push through it. This is life, and life rarely comes with shortcuts.

To not love where you are is to make yourself miserable. It's to throw your life back at the universe or back at God and scream, "you suck and you screwed up." What's the point of that? You scream, and then pick yourself back up and address the root causes of those emotions... insecurity...fear...loneliness. The idea that you can't be content how you are, where you are, the size you are, and with your natural hair color, is really quite archaic. Such is life, such is how the cards fell, such is the divine plan...so I find contentment.