How everything is not ok: Cambodia Confessions

A good part of Cambodia: My balcony.

I have loved living in Cambodia. I have my moments (who doesn't), but overall it's been a pleasure. I haven't fallen in love with Cambodia the way I've loved other places, but I've warmed up to Asia and I will absolutely return. 

When I arrived, I knew I was going to be here for three years. I couldn't let everything bother me. I learned to either process my frustrations or ignore them. Now with the end in sight, I'm allowing myself to admit my secret anger. Making this list was therapeutic. Now I can admit....everything has not been ok.

Things which make me extremely angry that I've been suppressing for three years.

Very frustrating

• This climate. Chronically sticky, chronically dehydrated. It's so miserable 50 weeks out of the year.
• No parks. Where should I picnic? Where do I go to see trees?
• Weddings/Funerals. I've not been good suppressing this specific point of frustration. I will never understand why people block public roads for loud and private events. 
• Sidewalks turned into parking lots. Where am I supposed to walk?
• Motodups. No. I don't want a moto taxi or a taxi. Ask me again and I'll tell you the same.
• 
  

Somewhat Irritating

• People answering their phones when I'm speaking to them. This is perfectly normal and not disrespectful whatsoever in an otherwise painfully polite country. I've waited up to 15 minutes for people to finish their phone calls while sitting patiently. 
• Sheer women's tops without a tank top underneath. This one I just don't understand. In an otherwise conservative society, even older women do this. Does this mean we're comfortable with our bodies? It drives me crazy.
• Khmer music videos on buses. If I never hear another sad music video where someone dies at the end on a battered bus for the rest of my life, I will be happy.
• Personal questions. Please stop telling me what you think of my weight. I makes me uncomfortable. Please stop asking about when I'm getting married. Must you publicly comment on my facial acne?
• Sour soup. It's wrong. 
• Acronyms. Everything must have an acronym. Also, the acronyms are always in English when English isn't all that common. Speaking in the code of acronyms does not feel as space age as you'd think.
• Exercise limitations. I just want to walk, bike, run... There are no places to do this without fearing for your life, and without being the target of gaping stares. 

Less this post be entirely negative, I've also made a list of things that no longer bother me. 

Things so normal I don't notice them

• Squat toilets. Not a big deal.
• Traffic. 95% of the time, whatever.
• Getting stuck in a downpour. Pull over, buy a 35 cent "raincoat" keep going. No biggy. 
• Rice. Twice a day on average, not a problem.
• Looking bad. Helmet hair, sweat stains, mascara sliding off my face...part and parcel. 
• Seeing women exercising in the gym in heels. Not a problem.
• Construction noise. It all fades into the horizon. 
• Two currencies. Paying for items in a mix of US dollars and Khmer riel, effortless.
• PJs in public. Why not wear my Cambodian "matchy-matchy's" to the corner store?

Oh Cambodia. You have been good to me. You amuse me constantly. In all my whinging, life has been good. 

This Post is for Three

I really, really, really like my privacy. You wouldn't think so as a blogger, but we are all filled with ironies.

When it comes to relationships, I'm more private than usual. Early on, the existence of this person had to be virtually dragged out of me and I secretly resented it. If there's anything I resent, it's being told how I should feel or should behave. I resented being told long-distance relationships are so difficult and I resented the raised eyebrows.

A part of life and relationships is learning to be comfortable with yourself. When it comes to my profession or living locations, I'm extremely confident in my unorthodox choices. In fact, I have this blog where I make snarky self-deprecating and self-righteous comments on this. Yet when it comes to relationships, I can wilt under social pressure. The lesson for year three has been that I'm allowed to be confident in my decision. "This is the person I choose. Yes, we live in different countries. We have lasted all this time. Yes, I still choose him." I remind myself that it doesn't matter. What matters is that something phenomenal exists with someone else that withstands time and space. And for what it's worth, outlasting the impossible is rewarding.

So...three years? Two countries? Two different stories that we somehow intertwine? It's not for everyone. But sometimes you meet someone you can't let go; someone who tolerates the ups and downs, the self-deprecation and the pity, the ongoing narrative of you trying to identify yourself among all the places you've called home and will call home, someone who genuinely appreciates your story, who meets you half way.

For three years with this remarkable person, I would do it over again gladly. Our narrative oddly fits with the narrative of my life. Like my personal narrative, as confusing, indirect, or inefficient as it is, I wouldn't trade it.

How this is life

Southern Cambodia

It strikes me sometimes that I'm a "lifer." Others are sick of Asia, sick of Asian countries, sick of the whole blah blah experience. People I know feel like this. They want/need to go home. I respect that. Honestly, I'm quite done with the climate, the sour soups and can we all agree the sidewalks are for walking and not for driving? We are all different. We all have different strategies of meeting our needs and different currents run through our veins. 

But if I look within myself...this is my life. This is how I live. The notion that I must move to my home country and "settle down" is intensely irritating. I don't do this because I "have the travel itch," or because I want to save the world. I do this because this is who I am, and where I find my heart and soul. I could sooner change my shoe size or my inadequate height. One can grow sick of a country, but one will always seek adventure because one cannot change one's heart and soul. You don't expect it to be easy, but you are compelled to continue. Even though it doesn't make sense, it so clearly does. My goals are relatively simple...live in a francophone country, live in Indonesia, live in Iceland, visit everything else. I don't know what the future holds, but it's a series of adventures to cherish, beautiful places to see and unexpected people to love. It will be perfect.

After so many beautiful and unique and remarkable places...I'm a lifer. 

How We Change (But Not Really)

Back in 2008, I was obsessed with Aristotle and Greek tragedy. I was in love with the style of the narrative; a hero of noble birth who is succumbed by his one character flaw causing a spectacular demise. I thought about Greek tragedy again recently. I'm attracted to the idea of a noble hero with a fatal flaw. Is a possible for a society to have a collective flaw?

Living in Cambodia, I meet people who seem quite Western values and ideas. They no longer use domestic violence, they overcome alcoholism, they educate their children well, they value democracy and free speech, they respect the poor, they are family people and involved in community service. But if Cambodia has one fatal flaw, it's racism. 

Cambodia and Vietnam have a complicated history. Both were superpowers at some stage during which they dominate the other. They seized land which went back and forth for centuries. The French lumped them together and split up the land haphazardly, which was later battered back and forth during the complicated Cold War era. In 1979, Communist Vietnam invaded Cambodia to debunk the genocidal Khmer Rouge Regime. The West calls this a "liberation," the end of the genocide. Many Cambodians call it "occupation," the invasion of a long-hated enemy. The Vietnamese stayed for 10 years until 1989 when the UN took over. The bitterness from my perspective seems somewhat one sided. Vietnam has bigger problems than their poor little neighbor, except when it comes to those islands off the coast. 

This bitter history is recalled in excruciating detail. It's reinforced and routinely exploited, particularly around border issues since there are some islands still up for dispute. Leaders stir up nationalism routinely by reminding their constituents they are one step from Vietnamese clearing them off the map. The racism comes up in normal conversation. All the prostitutes are Vietnamese, I'm told in completely seriousness. All the thieves are Vietnamese. All the cheap products are from Vietnam. An unset stomach is called "Vietnamese stomach." The Vietnamese make coffee with dirty laundry water at their restaurants. The Vietnamese-Khmer shouldn't be allowed to vote.

There is simply no way for us to comprehend this deeply held resentment. I don't have a comparable situation. Every country has their despised immigrants. That doesn't make it any easier, particularly when observing people who have made such progress on their sexism and classism.

I suppose we don't have to be an Aristotelian noble to have a fatal flaw. We just have to be human. You cannot undo centuries of hate overnight. You cannot pretend you understand because you don't. Instead, we celebrate the victories, and think about how to continue building peace in other areas. My country, no country is perfect. We all have our fatal flaws. We can hope they do not become our undoing.