Commencing Day 7 in my epic battle against the almighty Jet Lag, a fierce beast that has effortlessly pinned me to the sofa- my eyes barely cracked to watch old episodes of So You Think You Can Dance, my hand with strength enough to lift chocolate covered blueberries to my weary lips. It’s tough being back. Needless to say, I am incredibly happy to be home with my family and both comforted and concerned by the fact that my dog Mocha gained more weight than I did despite my continuous consumption of rice over the past two months (not to mention fried bananas, banana shakes, and banana soup…). However, much of my mind is still in Cambodia, with my friends and colleges a world away who I already miss so dearly. Continue reading
Reflections of a Voluntourist: 7/15/13
Back home in my Global Poverty and Practice classes, “voluntourist” rings like a curse word when directed at someone, a serious insult, a sound that should burn as it roles off your tongue. We continually discuss how voluntourism can contribute to deeper, broader problems that underlie the immediate concerns that well-intentioned volunteers come to address. We discuss the dangers of blind optimism and oversimplification for hours, and occasionally pause to address “paralyzing cynicism” as it exists on the opposite end of the spectrum. I have done my best to analyze my work with WOMEN and the Stellar Childcare Center (my orphanage [SCC]), carefully contemplating my position and responsibilities, hoping to distance myself from the dirty label as much as possible. Despite my best attempts, however, I remain (at least partially) submerged in the muddied waters of the voluntourist industry. Continue reading
Where the Wild Things Are: Journey to Mondulkiri (7/10/2013)
Muddied, burnt, and bruised, I returned yesterday, so completely content, from the jungle province of Mondulkiri. Today my Khmer friends were much amused by my rosy cheeks and numerous tan lines which, as Cambodians prefer lighter skin (supposedly signifying one’s ability to hold down a stable office job) reflects my diminishing beauty.
After 8 hours of winding road and a sounding thunder storm, we arrived in the small, central “city,” home to the Bunong people. As a mountain dweller, I am no stranger to bad weather and unfavorable road conditions. However, traveling in a large metal bus surrounded by only trees and potholes, I was a bit concerned by the lightening and downpour. On the way to our hotel, my moto driver gave up on the ride (just before a rickety bridge), leaving me to hop on the back of Chris’ bike which powered through the rest of the journey. Finally, we made it safe and sound to the Nature Lodge where we had reserved a little bungalow surrounded by the world’s happiest cows.
On the second day, Chris and I ventured on to complete the ultimate mission of our stay here in Cambodia: RIDE AN ELEPHANT. Our noblest of steeds, Bon, was perhaps the most spirited creature of the group. He loved to stop and eat every 5 minutes, which required a bit of offroading from our jungle path such that we dramatically lagged behind our 2 elephant peers. I did not mind (who doesn’t love to snack?), even as I sat precariously perched atop of Bon’s shoulder blades which continued to wage subtle war against my upper thighs. I did mind, however, when Bon unknowingly walked us into lower branches covered with ants, leaving me to battle the demon insects with my one free hand. Continue reading
The Birds, the Bees, and the Almighty Condom (7/5/2013)
Just as I start to really settle into Cambodian life, I realize I have just two weeks left! How did that happen? I don’t understand. The days are zipping by like buzzing motos while I ride by on my bike wondering “Why the rush?” (simultaneously navigating the oncoming cement truck). Between field visits with WOMEN, work with the orphanage, and outings with the peeps, I have become very attached to my busy schedule here in this country, which feels a little more like home now that I am less frequently lost. I love my kids in the orphanage, I love my host family, and I love the feeling of familiarity that is finally settling in.
On Wednesday Chris and I accompanied our WOMEN team out into the province of Prey Veng to observe HIV classes and survey work. Across the Mekong River, these remote villages are filled with people that have never encountered a foreigner before… ever. I laughed on the boat as they stared at me smiling, attempted to speak to me in Khmer, and pointed blatantly at my white skin and non-Cambodian nose (good thing I have reasonably sturdy self-esteem). Even the cows stared at me as we motoed by. This is slightly different than in Phnom Penh, where I merely feel like a duck amongst chickens. In Prey Veng, I was a unicorn or a chupacabra or some other mythical creature that we’ve all heard about but never seen. I mention this because my Caucasianess was perhaps both beneficial and distracting to the serious conversations my team conducted throughout the day. I certainly captured the curiosity of many passerby’s who the joined the audience as my partner, Kuntheay, spoke about HIV and prevention techniques. However, I could definitely tell when the conversation switched from the illness to the mysterious fact that foreigners like to tan (“You want to be black, yes?”). Continue reading
Battambang photos!
Hey all! Just wanted to share a couple shots from last weekend in the beautiful province of Battambang. We went to visit Chris’ family (cousins of cousins of fathers of brothers….) who are all very warm and welcoming and always determined to induce a food coma. Excellent escape from the city!
Young girl washing clothes on the water front
Chance and Choice and Lack There Of (6/29/2013)
Since my first trip to the orphanage on Tuesday, I have not really been able to sleep. I thought that running and playing and being jumped on by dozens of kids would wear my body right out, but it has left my mind reeling. Gorgeous smiling faces, lit with energy and hope despite separation, heartbreak, and the desolation of the surrounding area. I plan to visit this larger orphanage whenever possible, where the small, rough hands sweetly latch to mine and guide me to play.
I have since started officially volunteering in a smaller center with 3 teenage boys and one 18 year-old where my housemate Chow also volunteers. These boys are also extremely kind and well behaved with a touch of teenage cheekiness. They focus remarkably well as we review homework and learn English songs, though I refuse to teach them all the lyrics to Adam Levine’s One More Night. I just taught them the Cup Song and all three of them picked it up in half the time it took me! One boy (perhaps my favorite of the group, shhh….) is destined for music, I’m convinced. This fella, Paul, currently hobbles around on wooden crutches as a run in with a tuk-tuk left him with a broken leg several months ago. He remains the cheeriest of the group. Continue reading
Little Humans: Introduction to Life at an Orphanage (6/25/13)
Tonight was my first time visiting an orphanage and my heart is bursting with mixed emotions. I accompanied a returning volunteer on her visit and have really been left speechless. The kids, all 60 of them, were so wonderful. As soon as I walked in I was immersed in play, smothered in laughter and excitement. Few seconds passed where I didn’t have a child on my back and/or in my lap. The girls immediately took to teaching me songs and games while I ran around like a monster “eating” and tickling the boys. I read Khmer versions of English fairy tales (riddled with typos) to a captive audience who handed me book after book. We played soccer and keep-away and thumb-wrestled until I was completely drenched in sweat, and then… we danced.
Let me tell you something about these kids: SWAG. I watched with wide-eyed amazement as several of the youngsters performed a hip hop routine that completely outshined all Bieber-ian performances I have had the grand pleasure of seeing. These little acrobats flipped fearlessly over one another, gliding and break-dancing with infinitely more grace than I could ever dream of achieving. Seriously kiddlets, hot damn. Continue reading
Staying Upright (6/24/2013)
Staying Upright (6/24/2013)
I’ve decided that working in Cambodia is like learning to ride a bike- in Cambodia. My California mind (working at least 9 miles over the speed limit at all times) attempts to maintain balance while carefully navigating concern and optimism, frustration and fulfillment without much regard to stop signs and red lights. As our NGO prepares for routine inspection and work sometimes dwindles, I breathe deep and try to quell the restlessness that fills my head, my arms and legs. This is not a boredom combatable with WIFI or a good book. (Just finished Gone Girl, a thriller about the murderous daughter of two psychologists….) It is a restlessness generated by seeing people wrestle with the great challenges of poverty, corruption, and inequality combined with an understanding that my comfortable life back home is inextricably bound to theirs. We are connected by a world of international economics and business- evident in Cambodia’s KFCs, Dairy Queens, and the imported technologies which few Cambodian can hope to afford. A world of politics, privilege, and presumptions, in which Cambodian children must learn English in order to read their own textbooks. A world in which an American college student can expect to be of help in a country where she does not speak the language, and in a world where everyone asks about Obama while few people back home can name the Cambodian Prime Minister of over two decades. A world, which I’m sorry Mr. Friedman, is far from flat. I feel restless as I desire to harness that connection for something productive and kind- a task much easier said than done.
So, in order to maintain balance, I find myself recalling the dozens of little things (and big things disguised as little things) that I saw or encountered or just appreciated that struck me as special or just made me smile outside of the office. These things are obviously not a part of the work I set out to do, but keep me upright and happy, and guide my understanding of Cambodia in unexpected ways. The list below is far from complete, but helps describe why in Cambodia, amidst the many challenges, life can remain so beautiful. Continue reading
My Name Is Brenna, and I… am a Tourist. (6/15/13)
This weekend with Chris’ family in Sihanoukville and Siem Riep, I spread my white wings as the tourist I was destined to be. A beautiful getaway from the dust and heat of Phnom Penh, we escaped (slowly, by bus) to these tourist hotspots, where we white folk are plentiful and the sites- remarkable.
In Sihanoukville, Cambodia’s most popular beach town, the gang and I (Chris’ aunt has adopted me) ingested mountains of seafood. Six pounds of crab in a single sitting. This was done right on the beach, and though it was raining, the ocean was warm and inviting. The day was finished with a pool in a local bar, where I led my team to hopeless defeat. On a more victorious note, I must also mention that I tried both snail and frog for the first time- not bad, but I still prefer the crab.
However, the mix of wealth and poverty, beauty and hardship, continued to shock me. This is the case though out much of Cambodia, but was strikingly obvious in the city as we drove the smaller streets and later throughout the countryside. During the 9 hour van ride to Siem Riep (we had to drive back through Phnom Penh), we passed scattered shacks and tiny towns along the riverside and rice fields where people lived amongst the skinnest cattle I have ever seen.
I hit you guys hard in the last post, though- so gonna keep it light this time.
Siem Riep is undeniably the tourist Mecca, home to the world-famous temples and hoppin’ nightlife. The angelic echoes of Adam Levine and Beyonce sounded through many a restaurant. Though there are hundreds of miraculous temples nearby, we visited as many as our fragile bodies could handle in the heat: 4. The walls of each were covered top to bottom with intricate Buddhist carvings, housed beneath impossibly incredible architecture, complete with infinite staircases- all built by hand. At my favorite temple, Ta Prohm, massive tree roots spilled over the stone walls and crawled across the ruins (portions still left crumbled by the Khmer rouge). Angkor Wat, Cambodia’s pride and joy, was a site not to be missed. Built atop of a man-made lake in only 40 years, this temple certainly deserves its awe-inspiring reputation .
First Encounter with AIDS: Reflections and Ruminations from the Field (6/12/2013)
I am ignoring my better judgment to sit and write this later. I know that when my mind wanders into a tsunami of thought, emotional thunderclouds silently brewing, I should sit and wait for it all to quiet. But I want to talk, and I cannot stop myself.
I have never felt more useless than I do in this moment, in this place. I do not mean to complain- I do not mind feeling frustrated when I feel I am working towards something good, something helpful. But right now, I see suffering and I sit inches away from suffering people, and can do very little about it. I am trapped by my lack of language and wrapped in the feeling of privilege that I cannot shake, not even for a second. Continue reading
Out and About 