The Peace Corps Effect

   When I left home for college at the tender age of eighteen I thought that it would be a defining moment of becoming an “adult,” a big girl in the big world where I would make a life and a name for myself.  Six years, five cities, three continents, and what seems like every single time zone later, I still call the Superparents when I am in need of guidance and wisdom.  To survive this Cambodian adventure though, sometimes it’s a little easier to vent about being hungry and the inability to eat any more rice to another PCV. 

 I will do my best to explain.

  Thrown together in a mishmash, a literal “melting pot” (seriously, it’s that hot here), Peace Corps Volunteers form instant friendships overnight that meld and carry us through the dips and ruts of living alone surrounded by people of a different culture.  We instantly have a connection, a bond, a similarity that sets us apart from the rest of our friends: the simple fact that we are PCVs.  In our little microcosm, it’s the other PCVs who we call when we’re down, when we need to be picked up, and sometimes when we need to just speak English.  I have some of the most supportive, amazing friends back home who will listen to me when I am Skyping, email me in response to crazy ideas, send kickass care packages, and answer unknown numbers when I call from Cambodia – but even though I consider myself lucky in the support I have from America, the only people who can truly understand what this experience does to a person, is another PCCambodia Volunteer (hence my introduction to my PCV friends in Cambodia – see previous blog post).  Hayley’s friendliness, Caitie’s energy, and Amber’s loyalty are the best medicine I have yet located to bring my own positive attitude back to where it belongs when I forget for a moment who I am or when I get carried away by The Peace Corps Effect.

  Maybe it’s because we have to create our own world for two years, clutch each other for comfort and understanding, and whittle away hours talking about what we like about our villages, what we miss about home, where we want to go when we are finished with our missions, or maybe it’s because we are so far from home and our established support systems that emotions, the good ones and the bad ones, are magnified here.  This is what I call “The Peace Corps Effect.”  Everything that happens to us is slightly exaggerated and every PCV has a moment when they become a mini drama queen.  Peace Corps Volunteers experience the highest of highs and the lowest of lows, sometimes in the same day. Example: the night that I walked down the road to my village in the rain on the way back from my dentist appointment, humorous as though I looked even to myself, I was not happy with my situation.  My immediate reactions were, “typical,” “this sucks,” and “freaking rain,” and when my host mom appeared on my bike with her friend along on a moto with a light, I saw a white knight in shining armor on a fierce stallion rescuing me from…what? Rain? I’m not made of sugar after all (sweet as I may be) and in my own culture, walking home in the rain is no big deal.  But here, where I only catch every other word in my village and faces tend to blend together, a simple walk home was a journey, a battle, an event that was slightly exaggerated in my mind and as part of my experience.  As fantastical as my imagination is by itself, The Peace Corps Effect still throws it for a loop.

  The Peace Corps Effect is a roller coaster of exaggerated experiences and magnified emotions that cement our friendships because of the whirlwind that happens inside of our heads and hearts and the support we seek from each other when that happens.  Our friends are the ones who help us stay not only positive, but productive when we are living in our dirt road villages surrounded by people with whom communication is difficult at best.  The Peace Corps Effect is the reason that we form instant friendships that last for two years (and probably beyond).  It's the reason we all become each other’s warriors and feel hurt so acutely when something goes wrong.  I think that any PCV who has been in-country for a few months will agree with me when I say that though Cambodia moves slowly, The Peace Corps Effect means that our relationships with other PCVs and Americans moves so much faster.  We feed off of each other’s emotions and energies.  That’s why it’s so important (I think) for PCVs to guard their attitudes because one of the facts of life that transcends culture (trust me on this one) is that misery loves company.  BUT one of the worst kept secrets of life is that happiness loves company too, and it takes a balancing act for a good friend to know when to indulge in sadness, and when to help stave it off and help to protect a positive attitude. 

   I have heard that Peace Corps is one of the most difficult jobs to have – I think that is true on a mental level.  I myself am inexorably rational, logical to the point of frustration and when I feel myself going Godzilla-emotional I literally think that I am going to have a mental breakdown (see what I mean about everything being exaggerated?).  Since this directly conflicts with my own self-image of being cute and likeable not to mention calm in the face of a storm, it’s not the easiest thing to deal with.  It’s hard trying to control out-of-whack emotions and turn everything into a positive light day-in and day-out, even when I am a glass-is-full kind of girl (it’s half full of water and half full of air…see, I’m good at math too).  By having a job such as this, representing all Americans in my village, I am not allowed to be publicly sad or angry.  If they see me not smiling, the people of my village always always ask me if I am unhappy, if I miss America, if I want to go home.  They take my actions for the actions of everyone back home.  They see my emotions and in their minds, apply them to the emotions of everyone back home.   I represent my family, my friends, my countrymen and women, and all who have come before and will come after me.  I am a celebrity with none of the perks.  And like celebrities, I have to keep my crazy emotions in check when I am at my site with my host family.  Forget being American, I can’t even be a girl with emotions if I want to.  Trying to figure out a way to not only fix my overwhelming ‘Peace Corps-ed’ emotions when I feel myself going a little crazy but keep them under wraps in front of my Khmer friends and family in a culture where privacy is a privilege is enough to drive a girl insane (there goes the exaggeration again).  

  But sometimes I think that The Peace Corps Effect could be a good thing.  Why? Why would magnified emotions and exaggerations be good in any sort of capacity?  This is why: because they are a part of life and a part of who we are as Americans and as humans.  In American culture people are allowed to be emotional in a way that people of Khmer culture are not.  Regardless of how cultural norms allow us to act, we do have emotions and learning to control them in front of ourselves and other people is an important lesson to learn.  In addition, it is a crucial part of (at least) Peace Corps life to be able to talk to other Volunteers and learn who you can lean on when something goes wrong.  Hey, we're a social species. We need each other.

  After the craze and travel during the holidays and then birthday celebrations, I hit a funk somewhere around the middle of February while surrounded by the simplicity of site.  I was recently talking to another PCV about how February was difficult for me and I was sad a lot during that month.  He found it hard to relate.  “What if you get sad again?” he asked me, maybe guarding his own positive attitude, and at the time I didn’t know how to respond.  It only took me about a minute after I hung up the phone to become indignant.  I’m a human, I’m not a robot.  Though I generally consider myself to be a very happy person, I have been sad before and I am going to get sad again.  Not only will I get happy and sad, I’ll be angry and jealous, cheerful and generous.  I might even go a little crazy and be shocked.  Having emotions and growing by learning how to deal with those emotions isn’t just a part of Peace Corps, it’s a part of life.  I refuse to be ashamed for feeling strongly about situations that life throws at me or the people that I find myself with.  I am not going to be afraid to put myself out there because, after all, isn’t bouncing back from difficulty the true test of maturity?  I have been told before that more important than any actions taken first are reactions to unforeseen circumstances and sticky situations that one may be put in.  Yes, I get sad.  Sometimes I even cry a little when I am sad.  And then when it’s over, I pick myself up and move on and before I know what has happened, I find that I am happy again.  And you know what? It feels good to know that I’m alive and have emotions.  It feels even better to talk to one of my friends and let them help me when I need it, because I know that I will be on the other end of the phone when they hit a funk too.

Isn’t it true that when it rains, it pours?  So be it.  I am learning how to dance in the rain. 

xo-Amanda

And then came The Others

  I would like to introduce you to the supporting cast, my government-issued friends (as some PCVs like to call each other), the only people who come close to understanding what I mean when I say that I am literally sick of rice - in Khmer.

Let's open the credits on my BFF Erik

Erik is the Best Friend (also known as the Handsome Protagonist) who has the greatest of pleasures in being my closest neighbor.  He is a K5 English teacher and so has been in Cambodia for a year longer then me, and ends his Peace Corps life in July.  Luckily, since I met him in July after moving to my site, he has been extremely patient with all of my questions about Khmer life and the language, and helps me when I am having trouble.  To my endless happiness, he got a job with a local NGO and will be staying in Cambodia for an additional 2.5 years to design and (watch) build a community center in his village.  Whenever I need to get out of my village, Erik is always up for a bike ride, or down to hang out, which is great because there might not be a better conversationalist in all of Cambodia. 

Willia is The Sass.  She is a great friend located north of me in Pursat at a health center and does a lot of the same work that I do.  The best part about Willia is that she always knows how to make me laugh and she is great at being a cheerleader.  I call her up sometimes at site just to hear her voice and her reactions because I know that one conversation with her will put me into a good mood that will last for hours. She always knows just what to say and whether to turn the conversation to funny or serious and is a good cheerleader to have when I am stuck at site and in some major need of a good laugh. 

  Next comes The Roommate, Miriam.  Miriam was my roommate when we arrived in Phnom Penh that fateful day so many months ago not really understanding what we were supposed to be doing in this hot country with a language we could not understand much less speak.  She was placed in Svay Rieng at a health center as well and not too long ago we began a project on ANC work and educating Village Health Volunteers in order to be able to reach the villagers that we are not able to get to, or do not come to the health center.  Miriam and I have the same sense of humor and we both get told that we look Khmer by Khmer people (which boggles both of our minds).  I am always happy to see and hang out with Miriam when I get the chance in Phnom Penh or Sihanoukville.

  And then comes the paradigm: the Team (aka Team22).  The Team is made up of Mark (the Brains), Evan (the Beauty), Andrew (the Brawn), and Tony (the Wild Card).  Jill is the "Useless Girl" and I am the "Token Girl" but we share the attributes and mostly are just along for the ride. Let me Game of Thrones the Team for a second so that you can better understand the dynamic.  If we were to play the Game of Thrones (where either you win or you die), Tony would be Tyrion Lannister.  Tony is extremely smart, and can out-talk, out-think, and probably out-play everyone involved in a Game of Anything.  He also knows how to designate roles which clearly Tyrion is great at when he takes over being the Hand of the King and outwits Cersei at the end of Season 2. 
  Mark is Robb Stark because he is good at getting people out of trouble and diffusing situations, although he also has attributes of Tyrion Lannister and is pretty good at talking himself into and out of anything.  He and Tony make the most terrifying Team in that they are always up to shenanigans.  If Eddard Stark had Mark and Tony on his team he probably would have escaped and gone on to lead an army against Joffrey Baratheon and whatnot...or maybe they would have played the Game of Thrones to a different turn - with the two of them, one never knows what is going to happen.
  Evan is Jon Snow, not because he's a bastard or and outcast with a giant albino direwolf, but because he is super nice and befriends everyone in Peace Corps.  Also because if Evan were to be groomed for taking over Peace Corps and setting the rules, like Jon Snow in the Night's Watch, he's a leader I would definitely follow.
  Andrew was a tough one to place but after much deliberation, he would be Jaime Lannister.  Whenever we go out the Khmer girls love to look at Andrew and tell him he is so handsome! Also Andrew is generally willing to be the brawn behind the ideas of Tony and Mark who love to twist and thicken the plot.
  Jill would be Cersei Lannister - if Jill is happy, everyone is happy.  Unlike Cersei though, Jill is generally happy and always down to have a good time, even if she did go to UK (Sorry Jill, but March madness just ended).
  And I fancy myself to be Daenerys Targaryen, mostly because I like to play with fire.

top photo: Jill and I on our birthday boat ride

bottom photo in order from left: Jill (on the phone), Andrew, Tony, Mark, me, Evan

  Last but not least comes The Girls.  The Girls are my absolute favorite part of Peace Corps (mostly because I can refer to them as "The Girls" and everyone knows who I'm talking about).  Sometimes I picture us on "Real World Peace Corps Cambodia" (except more like "Sex and the City", "Girls" and like shows) only instead of wine glasses and salads we have Nalgenes and rice.  I am really big fans of The Girls and also am secretly grateful that they have scooped me up and become friends with me because they are lifesavers and meeting up with them is something I look forward to when I am at site.  Let me tell you a little about them via interpretation of The Girls through the Hunger Games (yes, I have seriously thought about this. What else do you think I do in my spare time?). 

  In a Hunger Games-type situation, Hayley would die first (Sorry, Hales). This is because Hayley is the nicest person I have ever met in my entire life.  She's simply too sweet and would not be able to handle killing the other tributes in cold blood.  She would be sharing her food.  Sharing of sustinence does not let one live in the Hunger Games where the odds are never in your favor. Hayley is also absolutely no good at hiding what she is thinking.  If you want to know what she is thinking, just take a glance at her face because she has the most priceless facial expression responses to almost everything that is said. 

  Caitie would be killed off second because she is also extremely nice and likes everyone.  I mean, everyone.  Generally when I'm out with Caitie and we run into other people, I find Amber and Hayley.  "Caitie's making friends again," I say to Amber very often, "I hate it when she does that" (I jest, I jest - I mean I say that but I don't hate it when she does that).  BUT Caitie is a huge inspiration to me and a great influence because she is so enthusiastic about life - seriously, Caitie has more enthusiasm for breakfast than I've ever had for anything in my entire life.  She's also super strong because she played lacrosse in college - which might be the only thing that let's her live longer than Hayley.  In the long run though, Caitie is too nice and friendly to survive in the Hunger Games.  She goes second.

  Amber is pretty ruthless when it comes to sports and Games because she's is probably one of the most competitive people I've ever met.  This will take her far in a Hunger Games-like situation, especially when it comes down to hand-to-hand combat.  She pretty much shows no mercy when she is involved in anything where she could win.  Amber also likes to gamble (which did me no favors when IU lost to MSU during football season.)  BUT - the downfall of Amber in the Hunger Games is her loyalty.  She loves Caitie, Hayley, and I and to her credit I think she would do anything for us, including share food or weapons.  Thus Amber would be the third to go. 

  And obviously I would win because I have no heart and am now accustomed to life without showers, electricity, and food options other than rice.  Also I am now bomb at using my tiger-camo pocket knife that supermom sent in a care package.  Take that mangoes that need to be peeled before consumption! Bring it on, Everdeen!

from left: Hayley, me, Caitie, Amber

  And that is just a small view and a few of my favorite people who take part in the drama known as "Peace Corps Cambodia: Amanda Arand".  Like I generally say, it's my world and they're just living in it.

End Scene.
xo - Amanda

The Invitation

  Possible Peace Corps Volunteers are recieving their invitations right now asking if they would like to become a member of the K7 class of PCV Cambodia.  I know this because they have started posting in our Facebook page asking ridiculous questions about whether or not they should cut their hair before they come (really?).  Anyway, in an attempt to establish kinship with future volunteers, I remember when I got my invitation to join the Peace Corps.  At the time I was living in New Orleans finishing up school at Tulane.  I got my invitation in mid-May, the day before my last final (you can guess how that last final went) and about a week before graduation.  I had just gotten home from my second-to-last final and went into my room with a book-sized package from Peace Corps (which I had been expecting for a week or so) and opened it to find a large blue envelope with the words "Peace Corps Invites You" (because the US government is so subtle and all).  I opened the invitation to discover that my assignment was Community Health Education Extension Agent in the country of Cambodia and I immediately thought the exact same thing that everyone thinks as soon as they hear what I'm doing, "Where is Cambodia?"

  After a quick google maps search and gaining of Wikiknowledge for my future country of residence, I called my mom.  "CAMBODIA!" she said to me when I told her. "How cool!" (my mom is cheerleader #1).  Later that evening when I spoke to my dad I was reminded of how alike we are - he said, "So Cambodia, huh? Where is that?" and then followed the generic dad-questions involving safety and security issues.  I had a little less than two months to wrap up, plan, and pack my life into two suitcases before jetting off to the Kingdom of Wonder and from the moment the invitation arrived at my house there was no doubt in my mind that it was what I was going to do.

  I have been here for a little less than a year, absorbing Khmer culture and rice (something I think it can be done via osmosis in Asian cultures, after much research) and relishing the American inside of me.  Possibly because I am currently sitting on my wooden bed typing on my broken computer wishing desperately for rain to cool of the weather in time for dinner aka rice, people tend to think that I am an expert on Peace Corps and giving advice about it.  While it's true that I have more experience with Peace Corps than you probably do, unless you are an RPCV reading this out of boredom, I am not sure I am quite the person to give advice on it.  That said, I also remember frantically searching websites and blogs of PCVs and travelers, trying to figure out what to pack and what to leave behind, if I would have contact with people back home or be living in a hut in the middle of nowhere.  When I look back, and when I look in my suitcase, it's easy to see that I shopped and packed like I would be camping for two years. 

  While I try not to give advice, I will answer questions honestly.  And so when I am contacted by a friend, family member, Facebook acquaintance, LinkedIn connection, or old AIM buddy to talk to their sister's-cousin's-best friend's-brother who is thinking about joining the Peace Corps, obviously I say "yes".  Because then I get to talk about me and there is no subject I like more. (just kidding...but seriously)

  Many people that email me or ask questions or post on our Facebook page are just getting out of college.  Maybe they don't know what they want to do with their lives and they are thinking about joining PC for various reasons.  I have always considered myself lucky in that I have always known what I want to "do" by way of career "when I grow up" and so unfortunately I cannot identify with someone who is lost down that road of their lives.  I can however identify with people who are drawn into PC by their ads promising "adventure", "travel", "resume building", some sort of "changing the world" type thing, and the kind who want to "build" themselves or "grow".  They always ask a ton of questions about things like what I do on a regular day (sweat and eat rice) and do I speak the local language (very poorly but yes) and inevitably, using many different words and phrases, they all end up asking me the same thing, "why did you join Peace Corps?" and "is it worth it?"

  If I were with them in person I imagine myself giving them a patronizing look and pretending to be all full of wisdom and experience, mysteriously answer by not answering something like, "you just know".

  In truth, my answer does not matter to their decision any more than my decision would influence theirs.

  It's not the Peace Corps, or the country of Cambodia, or even my job educating that makes my experience what it is: it's me.  I have laughed when I wanted to cry and cried when I wanted to laugh, stumbled through Khmer and switched to English, and begun speaking to my American friends in Khmer before realizing that I'd forgotten my native language for a hot second. I've been more sweaty and dusty and frustrated and more hungry than I ever thought I could be.  I have also never been happier, or more content with what I am doing.  Peace Corps really is "one of those things" where you get out of it what you put into it.  And I'm a Hoosier-I go big or I go home.  As you have been reading, I'm not home yet.

  But before I came to contentment in this Khmer country, I had a lot of questions too.  So, ok future Volunteer, go ahead and ask if you should cut your hair before coming here because after all, you don't know what's appropriate and what's not and maybe one of the reasons you joined the Peace Corps was to find out.  If I want to be honest, I had ridiculous questions before I left too.  I called the language "Kee-mer" instead of "K'mai" and had to look Kampuchea up on the internet to figure out where it was.  I google searched "Cambodia" more than I've google searched anything, and I made packing list after packing list after packing list before actually packing and then re-packing and then re-packing yet again.  I thought I would be cut off from the world with postcards as my only form of communication and I pictured myself talking to my family once every six months on an old-school cell phone Zack Morris style.  In reality, I get crappy internet at my site and use my cell phone every day.  Sure, I don't have constant electricity or hot water - but now I know that most of the world doesn't.  It's America that locked me in a state of luxury expectation before I realized that hot water was a luxury.

  One of my summer jobs when I was in college was selling books door-to-door (awesome job) and one of the most important lessons I learned from that job came from a higher-up who told me, "you don't make 'right' decisions.  You make a decision, and then you make it right."  I think he was right about that (get it? eh? eh?).  When I make a decision, whether I spend too much time thinking about it or if it's a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing, I don't dwell on it and wonder if I should have gone the other way - I make it fit me.  I mold myself and the decision to work together.  So if you, dear blog reader, are trying to make a decision about whether or not you want to join the Peace Corps, move across the world to a third world country for two years of your life with everything you think you'll need crammed into two suitcases by yourself with your only companions being other people that you have never met in the same exact situation...then just make a decision.  And then, after you've made it, make it right.

Best of luck!
xo-Amanda

aaaaannnnndddd just in case...here are some links that give some great info about Cambodia and the Khmer. Not that you should stop reading my blog because obviously I'm an excellent, unbiased, completely objective third party observer with no personal interest in what I'm reporting.

Wikipedia

Cambodia.org

Here's a map!!!

facts and whatnot

The Great Pancake Debacle

I tried to make pancakes for my family last week. It was a huge disaster.

  You might be thinking to yourself, “but Amanda, pancakes are the easiest of foods to make! All that is required is batter, a pan, a little flippy flop, and syrup or butter (if you’re into that sort of thing)” and I would respond, “Optical illusion, my friend.” 

Let me begin at the beginning. 

  In Phnom Penh I bought the “just add water to this line” pancake batter.  Those are my favorite recipes to make, the “just add water” kind.  I am rather fond of the “vent and cook on high 3 minutes” kind generally found in the frozen foods isle as well.  These meals should give you an idea about the person that I aim to be.  Anyway, I also got some syrup to accompany what I thought would be the finest pancakes my village had ever seen.

  Back in my village a few days later during hope bye trong (lunch time), I got out the flattest pan I could find – which wasn’t a pan at all, it was a wok.  So instead of the oil I was using as a substitute for butter coating the inside of the pan in even amounts, it pooled in the center.  Next I poured the batter into the wok, not directly into the center but a little bit on the sides.  This was great because when I went to scratch it off of the pan with the spatula, it was quite easier than it might have been were all of the batter in the center of the wok.  By this time my host mom had wandered back inside to see what I was doing to her cookware, and watched me pour a second attempt onto a different side of the wok with the same results: uneven cooking, some burning, not a whole lot of flipping, followed by scraping and re-oiling.  I thought to myself, that’s ok, the first two don’t need to turn out…that’s what the tent h is for! But my host mom didn’t agree.  She had taken the spatula from me and tried herself to make the pancakes, already gathering what I was attempting to do.  She, however, tried to do it a little easier than I did.  She poured the batter directly into the bottom of the wok, in the middle of a pool of hot oil.  What do you think came out? Yes, that’s right.  She put some fried dough on the bowl in front of me which I dipped into syrup and put in my mouth.  I was hot and a little pancakey and very delicious for a bite.  Man Kheang stood next to me, trying to see over the counter at what all the fuss was about and I handed him a bit of fried dough and told him to dip it into the syrup.  He grinned at me after eating it – at least this treat agreed with someone. 

  My host mom tried again and again and again (at least ten times) to make the pancakes while I stood beside her offering brain waves of encouragement.  The tenth pancake saw me watching the fried dough pile up and Man straight up spooning syrup into his mouth. 

  When the batter was finally all fried up, my host mom gestured to the bowl and told me to eat some lunch, probably thinking that this is what Americans eat for lunch: a bowl of fried dough with syrup when they get bored with peanut butter sandwiches.  I sat next to it for a few minutes before escaping to my room to make lunch out of some care package goodies sent from Mom and Dad in the States.  You can bet that the patron saint of the Post Office gets a ton of “thank you” prayers.  That night my host mom took the bowls over to the health center to give the midwives some snacks.  The fried dough/syrup combo got a great approval rating.

  Well, this story doesn't seem like much of a debacle when I'm not telling the tale with animations, tonal changes, and mounds of exaggerations...but pretend that your encounter with Western food has been little to none for the past few months and you're attempting to share your culture with your host family.  After months of rice, getting fried dough instead of pancakes will seem like enough of a cruel joke that exaggerations are no longer necessary.

  I haven’t cooked since then, but lately I’ve begun to think that it’d be hard to mess up tacos.  After all, I just have to do is throw together ingredients and if the boys or my host mom does not like it, well, that’s on them!  Any suggestions? 

Bon Appetit!

Xo-Amanda

Staying "Polite"

  One of the biggest differences between American culture and Khmer culture are manners.  It’s hard to be polite in a society where you are unsure of the exact definition of “polite.”  Khmer culture differs greatly from American culture in that Americans are fairly straightforward and will generally tell you when you are making a faux pas.  Khmer people will not tell you if you are doing something bad or rude, and you may never ever find out that you have offended someone.  Rather, if they want you to know that they thought badly of one of your actions or that you behaved inappropriately, they will tell a friend to tell one of your friends to tell you. This is not a joke.

  

  I am constantly in fear of offending someone.  At least, I was when I got here.  But I have learned to take things as they come and just try my best.  Adjusted expectations are a crucial part of the Peace Corps. 

  For example: in America, it’s extremely rude to tell someone that they are fat. It is generally a compliment to tell someone that they are skinny – what this says about our views of ourselves and definition of “beauty” …but anyway I digress.  In America it’s rude.  In Cambodia, it’s just another description.  When I went back to my training host family for training #2, my host mom told me that I had gotten fat.  “Tow-aht” (fat) she said to me repeatedly.  I looked down at myself, fairly certain that absolutely nothing about me had changed in the two months I had been at my permanent site.  Then I looked back up at her and shrugged.  She asked me what I had been eating and if I had been eating a lot of rice.  I told her not too much rice but I drink a lot of water and she caught her husband’s attention.  “See?” she said to Sao Sareth, “she eats no rice and she gets fat. She eats water and she gets fat.” I smacked my head against my palm because a common belief here that eating a lot of rice will make you skinny and drinking a lot of water will make you fat.  It’s a myth that CHE volunteers are attempting to dismantle due to the incredible untruth of it. Anyway, the point is that she thought nothing of calling me “fat” to my face.  On the other hand, when I returned from that training to my permanent site in Kampong Saom, my host mom told me that I had gotten skinny. “Skorm, skorm,” (skinny) she said to me over and over, gesturing to her face and neck.  I checked the only mirror we have in the house and once again, I was still looking at the same face that I had when I arrived in Cambodia a few months before. 

  And then there is cooking.  I love cooks.  I love them because they make delicious food that I get to eat and not have to worry about cooking.  I personally do not like to cook, which from what I understand about most other people is not a very common attribute among the human population.  It’s not that I don’t know how to cook (although a ready argument could be made for that statement), I can cook, I do not enjoy it.  I take no pleasure in preparing food. I would rather eat raw food then go through the trouble and pain of cooking it. So it goes. From what I have found, this is also not an attribute that transcends culture. 

  During the holidays I headed to a fellow PCVs house (Erik, you’ll meet him later) where he was cooking New Christmakwanzikahgiving for myself and two other PCVs.  He told his family that I was coming and they asked if I would be helping to cook the meal.  His answer was something like, “I’m not sure she knows how to cook…” and that swayed them not in the least.  “She’s a woman, she knows how to cook,” they reassured him.

  Traditionally, in Khmer culture, the women cook the food and the men eat the food…you can imagine what this type of thinking does to my digestive system.

  When I first got to Cambodia and moved in with my training host family, I thought that by working with them, it would aid in my language skills and assimilation.  So I always asked if they “jong jooey” (wanted help) in the kitchen.  I viewed this as “polite” because in my world, sometimes you do things you don’t want to do to be polite. 

But…

  It’s kind of like at Thanksgiving when Grandma’s in the kitchen doing something funky with the turkey’s gizzards and you ask if she wants help because she has rickety bones and your parents raised you with manners.  What you really mean by “help” is icing the cake, or better yet, taste testing the pumpkin pie that Aunt Joanie has made from scratch just to make sure that the whole family doesn’t get food poisoning from bad cream the way everyone did that one year you were too busy mashing the potatoes to sneak a taste from the pies and your cousin Jake, who said he would test the pies and bring you a spoonful, ended up eating the ice cream instead, the numbskull. Grandma, however, thinks that by “help” you mean standing at the stove for 30 minutes straight stirring the curiously green gravy which makes you mildly suspicious because it’s Grandma’s “secret recipe” and the truth of the matter is that Grandma lived through the Great Depression and she’ll eat anything that’s put on her plate. Meanwhile everyone else watches football and helps themselves to fruit and veggies and their respective dips before the grand finale of turkey, green beans and deliciousness minus the interesting looking “gravy” that you’ve been trying to avoid smelling for the past 30 minutes.

  My parents raised me right. Did I stop asking if the women wanted help in the kitchen? No way! I have manners! 

  The first time they had me help, Bo sat me down on the floor with a mortar and pestle grinding up some chili peppers and herbs to put in the som-law(a kind of soup).  I won’t lie to you, I enjoyed it!  I had this great story in my head, thinking that I was like the pioneers, contributing to cooking the food from scratch, not relying on a microwave or frozen food (which is essentially what I lived on once I was responsible for my own food).  Hey, I was a child once, I played Oregon Trail back in the good old days – my family always died of cholera or drowned in the river…but that’s a story for a different day.  There is something strangely satisfying about grinding up your own herbs. The first time.  The second time I was put to work on the mortar and pestle I started looking around the room wondering if maybe chopping up the chicken wasn’t as bad as I thought, or perhaps releasing leaves from a branch had its uses.  The third time I praised the gods of microwavable food and refrigeration, trying my hardest not to conjure the sights and smells of my mom’s leftover stew or my dad’s salmon.  There HAD to be a better way to cook the food, a more efficient way of getting these herbs ground, an easier food to cook!  And well, there is. In America. Effectively on the other side of the planet.  So herb grinding it is.  Bo is no dummy though.  She started to notice that I ceased to eat any food which I had a hand in helping prepare and so I was banished from the kitchen.  It was for the best, really.

  The night before I left Angtasorm for the second time (after the second bout of training) my host brother Mao asked me if I was going to come back to Cambodia and visit them once I returned home in about 2 years.  I told him I didn’t know and he asked if they would be invited to my wedding in America.  I told him of course they would be invited and he said that we could Skype the whole thing.  Then he explained that before that happened he had to do 5 things: get a computer, get internet, download Skype, learn how to use Skype, and add me as a friend.   Mao has high hopes but I told him I believed in him. He started talking about the lengths of time and eventually decided that I could have 5 years back in America before I returned.  I thanked him for his generosity.  Then he said to me, “maybe you come back with husband.  Maybe you come back with two or three baby.”  Maybe, Mao…maybe not.  I laughed because I have explained to many Khmer people many times that I awt jong baan (don’t want) a husband or children.  (They smile knowingly, like they’re in on a secret that I haven’t been included in.  I can often see and hear the wheels turning in their heads and am terrified that one day I will show up at a classroom ready to teach nutrition and instead a wedding tent will be set up and beauticians ready to do Khmer bride makeup on my face).  Mao told me that while I was gone he would build a hotel for me to stay at.  It would be a “million star hotel.”  A “million star hotel?” I asked him.  He said yes, because if I wanted to see the stars, I could go on the roof and can look at a million stars. 

And I thought that was a great idea. 

Stay tuned for the Great Pancake Debacle

Xo-Amanda

Photoshoot!

Hi Y'all! I couldn't upload these photos for my last blog update so am posting a few now. The following are my health center, the ANC room where I usually am for my days, and my beautiful health center staff during one of our English lessons.

 

I had mentioned that one Friday, I went on an outreach day with some fellow health center staff. These are photos of the hike to the community center...

The introduction and gathering...

And some photos of the communty and community building:

 



And for my birthday, a few PCVs came out to dinner, and went on a boat cruise:

In this last photo, a few of the guys wrote a song for the January birthdays and serenaded us.



Have a great weekend! - Amanda



Just Another Day

  With all of these posts about traveling and holidays, you are probably wondering what it is that I’m actually supposed to be doing over here in Cambodia.  Though I do enjoy going to Phnom Penh for meetings and Siem Reap for half marathons, my primary work in Kampong Saom is by far my favorite part of the country.  Thus I would like to walk you through one of my typical work days so that you can see what it is I am doing.

  As I have mentioned, I am a Community Health Education Volunteer for the Peace Corps.  I was placed in Kampong Saom in a health center which serves 11 villages and 5 island villages (I think).  My primary work is focused on educating the Khmer people in one of 5 main areas of health.  These areas include Maternal and Child Health, Hand Washing, Sexual Reproduction, Noncommunicable Diseases, and Nutrition.

  I also like to educate on exercising and since it is great for the health, I take special pleasure in bringing my exercise habits to the people of my village.  Sometimes when they come to the health center they say to me, "you exercise every day!" and I smile and reply, "why yes, yes I do...and let me tell you why..."

  I wake up between 6 and 6:30am to the tinny of rain falling on the roof outside.  Maybe every three days or so I go downstairs to do laundry.  On days that I do not do laundry I try to go back to sleep (like the able-bodied adult that I am) or do some Khmer studying.  My boan brohs leave for school around 6:30am and so I am left to my own devices while preparing for the day.  Sometime before 8 I get ready to go to work - this consists of me washing my face and maybe bucket showering, smell-testing my clothes, and getting dressed   At the health center, I work almost exclusively in the ANC room (pre-natal care) with pregnant women and midwives.  There I am able to see pregnant women and talk to them about (among other things) nutrition, breastfeeding, birth control, vaccinating their children, and sometimes exercise.  If there are no pregnant women to see, I work in the pharmacy, telling people the types of medicine they are getting, probably side effects, and a little bit about what not to consume with the medicine (like alcohol).  When there are no patients left (sometimes around 11am) I teach my health center staff some English.  I am usually at the health center until about noon. 

 Some days I go on outreach and am able to visit villages.   One Friday I went to work as usual, only to be abducted (willingly) by some NGOs and other health center workers for an outreach to an island village.  To get there we drove down my red dirt road to the end where a fishing village resides, climbed into a small wooden boat, and started about a 20 minute journey to the island.  

  When we got to the island, we hiked about a kilometer up to the community center where most of the members of the village sat waiting for us.  After introducing ourselves and doing a bit of explaining (most of it was in rapid Khmer and beyond my language abilities), the people were able to see the doctor, get medication and vaccines, and see me, resident Barang, attempt to remind them that leafy green veggies are ridiculously good for them. The last patients were seen at about 4pm, and so we trekked back to the waterfront and put-putted back to the floating village and my health center.  

  Back to my regular day: at lunch time I walk back home and usually enjoy a peanut butter sandwich.  Then, along with the rest of the country, until about 1 I rest or take what I like to call a “safety nap.”   I would explore or try to engage someone else in conversation but alas, the entire community - and I might argue the entire country - naps after lunch..."when in Rome," my friend.  After the country-wide nap, I do one of a wide range of activities.  Until 3 or so I am usually getting work done involving secondary projects like camps for kids or education materials.  Secondary projects involve a lot of planning, asking permission, and applying for grants so they usually also require a lot of phone calls and computer time.  At 3 o’clock I have a Khmer lesson with my teacher where we translate or write in Khmer for an hour.  Every other day or so at 4 I take a bike ride for exercise from 4pm to 6pm.  On the days in between, I do a little more work until 5pm and then go for a run until 6pm.  When I return to the house from my exercise I shower, and then eat dinner with my host family.  After dinner we all sit in the main room (also the only room downstairs) and watch TV or color, or I help Soktchea with his English homework and Man pulls out some sort of toy to play with.  Earlier this week we were without electricity for a few days and one night culminated in a wicked pillow fight...which I won, of course.  At about 8pm after wishing each other “goodnight and sweet dreams” we all retire to our rooms to fall asleep.  And by “retire to our rooms” I mean I go to mine and the rice mat and mosquito net is set up in the main room for my mother and brothers to sleep under. 

  At press time, I still have yet to make contact with the local high school or local orphanage but I hope to free up my schedule enough to be able to teach there, or at least have some sort of impact.  Because I am busy and used at my health center, my mornings are consumed with my primary work and my afternoons my by secondary work. 

  Secondary projects include outside work.  For example, another PCV and I are planning a Camp GO which is essentially an exercise camp for kids which will teach them not only the importance of exercise and nutrition, but also about teamwork.  Another project I am currently working on is a science lab book for kids.  A few weeks ago I was talking to English teachers who mentioned that their schools had a ton of lab equipment donated to them but which they did not know how to use.  I talked with them a little bit and we are putting together a small science/lab book which includes names and photos of the lab equipment as well as how to use it and some small short experiments that they can do in a science class.  The great part about these projects is that not only am I bringing knowledge to the people of Cambodia, but exercise and science are two things that I really enjoy and am passionate about. 

  A few things to mention about my village and Cambodia in general (these are generalizations and naturally you will find exceptions in almost every case...but for the purpose of explaining to Americans, here I go).  

  -In Cambodia people do not usually stay home for breakfast.  The morning is a really busy part of the day and breakfast is generally held outside of the home.  Like I have mentioned, rice with meat is a popular choice for any meal and can be gotten pretty much everywhere.  Another popular breakfast item is a sort of noodle soup.  For reasons completely beyond my understanding,  when eating Khmer (or as I like to call it: Khmeating) you use chopsticks for slippery noodle soup, and a spoon and fork for sticky rice and pieces of meat.  Anyway, my host mother is a sort of breakfast spot and so people come and eat noodle soup at my house for about 1500R (about $.30).  I usually eat a granola bar that my mother has sent from America because at home (America) breakfast is my absolute favorite meal of the day and the memory of it tides me over until lunchtime.  Also, though I am a morning person, chopsticks at 6am is too much.  

  -For dinner, people are at home and eat with the family.  This is a pretty important part of Khmer culture.  Also, Khmer people count how much you eat by how many bowls of rice you eat.  So my family gives me a bowl of rice and then there are bowls of a vegetable/meat concoction sitting in front of me to eat with the rice, and even if I eat a whole bowl of the tasty non-rice part of the meal, they still say I eat only a little because I've eaten maybe a grain of rice with each spoonful of delicious pork-and-pineapple. Many times my 11 year old brother will eat 3 bowls of rice and maybe half a bowl of a meat/vegetable surprise, but will say that he ate a lot and I ate a little if I have eaten only half a bowl of rice but a whole bowl of the other stuff.  Let me assure you, the first words I learned in Khmer were "I'm full" and "I'm not hungry".  This was after I learned that "breakfast", "lunch", and "dinner", were all known as "hope bye" or "eat rice".  My family doesn't tell me it's "dinnertime," they tell me it's time to "eat rice".  

  -People are not outside after dark.  In the city this is a little different - people are out after dark in touristy areas, and use tuk tuks to get around.  In the village this is because there is literally nothing to do.  There are no clubs, no coffee shops to hang out at, nothing to do and so people are at home hanging out with their families or doing whatever it is they do within the confines of the walls of their house.  Remember when I was coming back from the dentist and wandering along my road in the dark? That was a completely new experience for me because I've never been outside of my family's house when the sun has gone down.  It may never happen again.  

 On an unrelated note, my first birthday in Cambodia passed without a hitch! Some PCVs came to Phnom Penh to celebrate January birthdays and overall I can see that 24 looks to be extremely promising.  I was also featured in fellow K6 PCV Kirk Acevedo's blog,  60X27 - you can access my page on his site through that link (the only thing is he got my birthday wrong...but who's perfect?).  Kirk put together his blog with the thought of showing the web-world all about not just his experience, but the experience of our whole group.  You can check out some other PCV Cambodia K6 views and life happenings if you want to explore his blog (I highly recommend it).  He is also an incredible photographer! Thanks Kirk!

Happy Birthday to me! (It's January 19th, for future reference. I'll be here for one more birthday...and you can access the "snail mail" page to the right. Just saying.)

Xo-Amanda