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.