Vlog of Blackheath

In place of my normal blog, I thought I would give you a Vlog...  Enjoy!  (Just click the video below)

Sometimes this sucks

As the title of this post indicates, sometimes this sucks.  From feedback I have received from people recently, I get the impression I am communicating some kind of rose-colored-glasses version of reality.  So, I want to clarify, sometimes this sucks.  I can only speak to my experience, not that of every missioner but, sometimes this really blows.

By coming overseas, I left my support community, my coping mechanisms, many things, behind that I didn't realize were being left out of my suitcase.  I figured I would find new ones here, or thought I was bringing some along but reality had a different idea.  Therefore, when things get tough, because life is tough, I have found it exceedingly more overwhelming to deal with those struggles.

There are the little things about trying to fit in a new culture.  I really see two approaches here, some people just live as they always have lived (regardless of the offensiveness to the host culture) and others try to fit in.  I think I fall toward the fit in side but sometimes it is just too much. Sometimes, I just want to wear shorts, or hug my male friends in public, or laugh loudly, or, or, or...  When does not being culturally offensive start to jeopardize me being myself?  I have been told in my time here that I am too loud for a woman, I laugh too much, I don't dress girlie enough or I dress like a boy.  I am too skinny, I am too fat.  I have been told I should wear certain clothes, certain make-up, scanter clothes, more conservative clothes.  I have been laughed at by my attempts to speak the language and also told my language skills are amazing.  I have been nit-picked for saying things wrong, by Khmer and foreigners.  I have been told I need to try this or that because that is the culture here and I need to try more (to be Khmer).  I struggle because I chose to come here, so does that mean I am the one who needs to conform?  How do I do that without losing myself?  It doesn't matter how thick a skin I try to have, sometimes I just want people to stop telling me what I am doing is wrong or how I need to change.

Relationships are more difficult.  Who pays?  Is my paying creating dependency or acknowledging my stipend is higher than many of my co-workers' salaries?  What do I say and not say as to not offend people?  I can't even talk to men without potentially sending the wrong impression. How deep can relationships go when neither person is particularly fluent in the other person's first language? Talking about family, friends, experiences only further demonstrates the extreme gap between life style privileges. My vegetarianism is constantly a point of debate so I will just avoid situations where others are eating, because I don't want them to feel bad or offended that I am not but that is also not something I am compromising and am tired of being made to feel that it makes me a failure as a missioner.

There are ex-pats to deal with.  Let's just say, not everyone has the same approach to living in the country but many think their way is right and they hold some ultimate truth.  So, the people who are 'easier' friends, because they come from a similar background and culture, can sometimes be the most difficult people.  Many have burn-out, or are set in their ways. White savior complex is rampant and dependency-based models of development abound.  Plus, many expats are dealing with the same issues of culture shock or lack of support, which I find problematic.  Many give and give and give on their job but are not aware that their interactions with other ex-pats are less than life-giving.  So, finding my tribe has been difficult.

  

Most of my coping mechanisms also don't work here.  Though, these were discussed beforehand, I thought many were transferable.  Then, reality hit. I bake and cook, especially for friends.  Here, that is taxing.  It is hard to find ingredients, it heats up the whole house to 90 degrees, who do you invite without others feeling excluded, especially when it comes to the local community.  It is usually more stressful than helpful.  I run.  Can't run outside here because the pollution makes me sick, or as the Dr. said, "You are allergic to Cambodia and will continue to get sick, as long as you are doing strenuous physical activity outside."  I try running at the gym, but I can't work-out too hard without getting sick, or headaches, or losing too much weight (because it is really hard for me to keep on weight in a hot country where I have no appetite, I can't eat dairy - Dr.'s orders, and seem to end up with an unhappy gut every other week from food, probably that I ate out with friends so as not to offend, or from stress because my coping mechanisms were taken away, or because when I get too hot, I get an upset stomach).   I bike.  If you read my recent newsletter, or any of the traffic blogs, you will understand why that doesn't work so well.  I go to nature.  Uhhhh... Cambodia I believe is winning the award for highest rate of deforestation in any country.  Soooo...

Now throw on top of this, life continuing back at home.  Friends and family are far away.  Important events, weddings, holidays, birthdays, are missed.  Then, there are the really hard things like aging, personal problems, and funerals.  My experience has been these are harder than ever from a distance. Guilt, regret, worry.  There is a constant underlying fear that something will happen to someone important and all this time will have been missed with them.  And, for what?  I am probably just being culturally offensive, furthering a cycle of dependence, and further confusing situations.  Plus, this was a choice. It is a privilege to be here and that all these people have welcomed me into their world and their lives, so how snobby and self-centered does that make me that I am not thrilled at every moment?  I should be overwhelmed with gratitude daily for all these things, but sometimes I just am not.

Sometimes, I just want to not care.

I don't have a solution.  And, every person I talk to has a different answer. For many at home, the solution is just to leave. But, is quitting because it is hard really going to help me? Maybe there are lessons still to be learned. As a friend and I used to discuss, I guess this is Phoenixing. You have to burn-up for something new to come up from the ashes. And, there is nothing like taking away all my normal surroundings and supports and throwing me out of my comfort zone to have to face what I am really made of, and not all of it is pretty.

I leave you with a song by an artist who I don't really wish to endorse, but a friend shared it with me. Seems well timed.

Goodbyes and grains of sand

I am a very transient person.  I have grown accustomed to saying goodbye when I leave.  Living in DC area, people were always coming and going but the turnover as an expat here is extraordinary.   I have learned, I don't like being the one left behind (sorry for all those I continually leave).  You meet people, invest time, build relationships, and they go.  Some will keep in touch regularly, many slip away and remain as a memory of a friend for a time.

This has also made me acutely aware of the ever increasing speed of time.  How do you balance spending every possible moment with people while those moments exist and still recognize and care for your own needs?  I also have just 20 months left on my own contract and then I may be the one leaving.  How will I feel when that time is up?

There is an Anna Nalick song I absolutely love that says, "Life's like an hour glass glued to the table.  No one can find the rewind button... Just breathe"  So, I am trying to just breathe through it all.  And, this is why blogs have been slow coming.  I am struggling to find that balance.

For your viewing pleasure, here are some recent grains:

 

In June, or was it July, these lovely folks came to visit.  Lauren and I went to college together and were hall-mates Freshman year (back when dinosaurs roamed the earth).  We haven't seen each other since the graduation party, I believe, which just made catching up that much more fun!  And, I got to meet Jeremy for the first time.   A great break in my routine!

 

At the airport sending off my buddy Erin (middle) who was here for nine months through a Fulbright/National Geographic grant.  I have endorsed her blog before but will do it again!  Read more about her research and experiences here with the Cambodian Deaf Community. Thankfully, Arlinda (right) is still here to entertain me :)

 

I did took some photos for another Maryknoll project and this was one of them.  The colors of Cambodia are just amazing.  This is in one of the lakes near Phnom Penh.  They are filling these lakes in (in the name of development) and forcing the low-income residents off their land and away from their livelihoods.  Then, they fill the lakes with sand and build huge extravagant buildings on them...  When it rains, everyone is then boggled by the fact that the streets are under a foot of water...

 

The beautiful Boeung (lake)

 

I also helped a different lay missioner conduct mock-interviews with her university students.  This is my best attempt at looking like HR.  It was a lot of fun to mix up the normal routine and hear about these students' interests.  Some were clearly very passionate about a certain field, like the one whose entire face lit up when I asked why she wanted to be a teacher. 

 

This is just to prove to you I am still alive.  We were trying to take photos for a new government ID that is being required and so of course I took this very seriously.

 

This is another goodbye.  For two months I took care of this little kitty.  He ate through multiple cords, bit me multiple times (he was suffering from transition anxiety because his family moved).  Despite all that, leaving him at the airport was possibly one of the most traumatic experiences I have had here.  Leaving a terrified, caged animal that is looking at you like you are the only person in this world that can help him and you have no way to explain he is flying to his family is not an experience I hope to repeat.  Though it is nice to not have my ankles attacked every time I walk around my house, I do look crazier because now I just talk to myself.  Before I could say I was talking to the cat :)

 

I was also responsible for helping to keep these two alive (neither of them bit my ankles, thankfully).  Each year, Maryknoll Lay Missioners Cambodia is responsible for hosting two students from Notre Dame University who come for a service learning experience.  It was great to have some fellow Holy Cross educated folks to chat with about life.  Plus, visitors are a good excuse to try new things and have new adventures... Like checking out the spa down the road... or...

 

Making new furry friends.  One year ago, I was too scared to hold this.  But, after having one end up in my sarong, holding it was a much easier challenge.

And, if you want to see more of what I have been doing, check out the recent DDP Newsletter, featuring my writing and photos.  Plus, one of these articles was submitted to me all in Khmer and I did the the English translation (PROUD MOMENT)

Authenticity

This year, the whole Maryknoll team here was invited to attend the Fourth of July reception and picnic at the US Embassy of Phnom Penh. Little did my colleague James and I know the important people that would be in attendance. Can you find us?

The reception is a formal event, in the morning, for leaders of organizations and other important figures (and a few of us lucky plebeians that happen to know someone who knows someone). This flashed me back to years ago when I worked at a job where networking was a big part of what I had to do. Schmoozing. Pressing the flesh. Kissing babies. You get the picture. Now, I have always loved people. I love learning people's stories and hearing what makes them tick.  I network in my sleep and am always trying to connect people who I think would be able to help each other in someway but these formal events make my skin crawl.


Let me paint a picture, for those of you that have not had the privilege of attending one of these events. 200+ people. All dressed in black suits. 90% of them are male. They clump around tables with those they know, introducing them to others they know... Or press-up against the walls glad to have a drink in their hand because it is their only friend in the world. It is a huge game to me. Everyone is trying to fit into a role, it seems, where they conform to some unspoken societal expectation (except for the two people in brown suits and the man in bright red pants whom I almost wanted to kiss for embracing their individuality).

I really enjoy (read with a voice dripping in sarcasm) the strategies of escaping someone in whom you see no value.  I am probably not supposed to analyze these, but I do: 1) "Here, meet my colleague;" 2) Flatly saying you need to go check on another guest; 3) Heading to the bathroom or to get a drink; 4) Simply walking off. It is amazing how poorly most of the world can carry on a conversation if it is not scripted and serving some specific purpose (beyond learning the story of another and acknowledging their experience).


Someday, when I am supreme ruler of the universe, I plan to only talk to the people that everyone else avoids because they have no 'value' for high power schmoozing – and maybe someday these 'important' folks will realize that creatively engaging with those who are different than them will lead to some great new ideas and opportunities.  For now, I will take my actual authentic interactions with real people any day over this game of who has the best title on their name card...



I don't want to end on a negative note.  I recently attended the wedding of one of our Deaf community members (I don't know him well, but was still invited). Here, though we were again all wearing costumes, at least our interactions were authentic. Enjoy some fun photos with my colleagues.

Yup, that is just my normal, 100% natural face ;)

Sometimes I giggle

I recently was speaking with a friend and said, "I 'bore' easily.  I like to always have the opportunity for a new adventure.  A chance to keep learning.  A challenge to stretch who I am. A problem to solve" Sometimes, though, when every moment becomes an adventure, it can be a bit exhausting.  It is nice to, every now and then, have something go according to plans.  Settling into a routine can provide space for other creative endeavors and the mind can rest.  But, for those moments when it just seems a bit too much, I try to remember to just giggle.  Life is a book, packed with a series of adventures, and some chapters are just more action packed than others.  Positive ripples...

Giggle moment #1

Some would likely classify me as a bit of an environmentalist.  I refuse to buy certain foods because they have too much packaging.  I bring my own take-out containers so I don't rely on the disposable kinds.  I may have brought a year's worth of paper with me to the USA to recycle on my recent trip because I had no reassurance it would be recycled here in Cambodia...  Anyhow, the fact that my recent hotel provided me with not one, but two toothbrushes (individually packaged to suffocate mother earth in their plastic-goodness) hurt the soul a little.  When they 'replenished' the toothbrushes, providing two more when they restocked the toilet paper, giggling was the best solution. Punching cinder block walls it not helpful. And, then I would need to use one of these to clean my blood out of the grout...   

Giggle Moment #2


I wish I could say I always giggle at traffic here.  Sending nothing but positive vibes into the universe, but, in reality, I usually curse like a sailor. When I am not the one navigating, I get lots of laughs out of the things I can see around me in traffic.  Note: most of these photographs are not from Phnom Penh but the provinces when I am on outreach or from the bus going from province to province.

Just your average minibus transporting people and goods from province to province.  I have yet to capture a photo of a really great one of these with people sitting on the stuff hanging out of the back.  Two years to accomplish that...

The people just ride on top of their goods in this arrangement...

Contrast in transport options.

These little engines are attached to just about any wheeled machine to transport crops, animals, people, and random things from place to place.  I, in my head, refer to them as chopper tractors, because they have the long handlebars like a chopper motorcycle...

You can transport your rice and your wife...

Or, the family dogs.

And, with this model, you have room for all the family's groceries.  I am guessing you have to make sure the weight balances out on either side or you could be in trouble...

Giggle Moment #3

Sometimes, I don't even have to leave my house to get in a good snicker. Well, this may be more of the universe chortling at me than me partaking in the uproar...


Giggle Moment #4

This past week, I had the chance to see this huge reclined Buddha.  This is at a wat well off the beaten tourist trail.  When you go to the wat here in Cambodia, you can light incense and make an offering, offer a prayer, pay your respects.  This past week, I stopped at a wat with a co-worker and she encouraged me to join in showing respect.  I observed and was following her lead, all under the watchful eye of an elderly monk.  I lit my incense and began to copy her posture (feeling very proud of what a well inculturated white girl I was).  That is about the time she pointed out I lit the wrong end of the incense...


Photo of the Week

And, following the tradition of my last blog, here are some of my favorite photos from the past week.

Sometimes you just happen to be in the right place, at the right time.  Monks on the bamboo bridge in Kampong Cham province.

A young deaf girl with her grandmother, mother, and family.  Grandma seemed thrilled her granddaughter will have the opportunity to get an education, even though she was born deaf.

Our field workers teaching a young woman the alphabet in Cambodian Sign Language.

You can read more about these adventures on the Deaf Development Programme blog (my alter-ego)

Photos of the week and a week of photos

For the past week, my life has really revolved around photos.  Both taking them and using them.  

First let me give you my photos of the week.  I am really trying to improve my photography skills and my sports photography has definitely gotten better.  As I have shared before, I spend a lot of time photographing soccer.  Below is possibly my crowning glory.

Thanks to that goalie for making this photo possible.

And, with slightly more editing, this is how a Filipino, an Englishman, a Costa Rican and a Cambodian celebrate the goal of the smallest member of the team.

I also get to play a bit of soccer these days.  Our Deaf Amazons, women's football team, has a tournament coming up next month, so we get together every Sunday for a practice game.  I can handle every part of this game except the whole kicking the ball into the goal thing...

This  past week, I also photographed an event on LGBT-Christian relations.  It was organized by a fellow Maryknoll Lay Missioner and had a great turn out!  This is my favorite photo.  His shirt says, I am who I am in Khmer.  In door, low-light photography is definitely a challenge given the caliber of my camera but I am learning.

In addition to being on-call to take many photos, this past Saturday I was the co-curator of a photo exhibition (featuring the photos of people far more skilled than I).  This was a lesson in having faith.  I am a logistics worry-wort.  I over-analyze everything, think and rethink and really constantly need a team with which to share ideas.  There are back-up plans for back-up plans.  An attendee spontaneously bursts into flames, yup, probably had a plan for that... 

You can check out the online version of the exhibition below.

Stretching for your amusement

It is only through stretching that one can become more flexible. And, in the real world sense, I think that means, what would I do if I wasn't afraid of failure? So, do it. This is a question I often ponder, and I know I have shared on this blog before. I am a naturally-anxious, recovering-perfectionist with a strange obsession for constantly trying to stretch and meet my ‘fears,’ which is probably a good thing otherwise I would move to a hermitage and never leave, as almost everything scares me. Today was no exception.

Per usual, on a Monday, the day was rather packed with meetings. The first of which was our staff meeting (I know, terrifying). This occurs weekly and involves updates about the work of the different projects, changes to laws that affect our work, and whatever other randomness pops up. The meetings are in Khmer with Cambodian Sign Language interpretation and are a great opportunity for me to improve my vocabulary in both languages. I often jot down new words while, of course, paying close attention to every detail being shared... Or something like that...

Generally, Fr. Charlie (Director), interprets from CSL into English for the staff who do not understand Khmer or CSL to a level that allows them to participate. BUT, today, he was not there and we had a new volunteer-staff member from Australia who had limited-proficiency in both those languages. Thus, the first words out of the co-director’s mouth were, “Karen, will you translate to English, please.” *Now imagine a semi-truck, with an extra trailer is plummeting down a dark road, in a terrible monsoon, right toward an angelic deer that happens to have my innocent face*

That was kind of what that experience felt like.  Thankfully, most staff speak slowly enough, and I know their speech patterns so I can understand about 80% of the Khmer (not always the 80% that leads to understanding the point, but, you do what you can). With the Cambodian Sign Language, I was able to fill in a whole lot of the rest. BUT, I now understand why it is typically advised to have multiple interpreters for anything over about 20 minutes of interpretation. I felt a bit like that semi-truck had dragged me for a while by the time the 45 minutes were up. As a child, I once considered learning to be an interpreter. Sweet goodness, I don’t know if I have that stamina, at least not for simultaneous interpretation.

Then, just 1.5 hours later, I had already told a friend I would interpret for an interview in English/Cambodian Sign Language. Again, at the time, it seemed like a good idea. We have a great set of interpreters on our staff but English is a real challenge for them, so my burgeoning CSL seemed stronger than their English. The first 20 minutes, I did ok (meaning I did better than your average chimp not trained by Jane Goodall). Unless I had to finger spell. If you have never seen a native signer finger spell in American Sign Language, google it. Prepare to have your mind blown.

My fingers knot-up when I try to spell and despite my home school-roots, this kid couldn't win a spelling bee unless I was the only bee. If my ability to spell is at a notably low level, my ability to understand finger spelling sunk to depths that would have been melted by magma. My exploded-brain was oozying from my ears in a pathetic puddle of failed gray mush by the end of the hour and a half.

After scraping my pile of mush up, unceremoniously shoving it back between my ears, apologizing for my inability to spell, I went for a relaxing lunch...  With three co-workers...  All speaking Khmer... At which point, I was again humbled by my inability to understand the conversation of three native, slang speaking Cambodians. We compared experiences of being in our young twenties, dorm-life, etc. All of which I have no vocab to express.

I am pretty sure I would have ended up in traction had I been stretching anything but my mind to such a degree. But, I have heard the only way for the muscles to get stronger is for little tears to form and heal. Right?  By the time the large lacerations of challenge and humiliation in my mind recover, I am going to look like a bobble-head or the presidents that run around the bases at the Nationals baseball games…