Where ever the wind takes me...hopefully back to Cambodia

Who knew that I would miss eating salad? Who knew I would miss wearing "real" clothes and wearing mascara? Who knew I would miss ordering free water with my meals? Or seeing the Blue Ridge mountains and sleeping on my hard mattress in my dorm room with Danielle, our last time as roommates before she spends the next 6 months in Bulgaria studying abroad.

I missed a lot of the small things, some more stupid than others.

But I don't think I missed all of those things nearly as much as I know I am going to miss Cambodia.

It doesn't feel like a month of my life was spent in this magical country. And while telling the stories and what I did while there, I find myself rediscovering adventures my group and I had, simply because we did so much it's hard to keep track of it all, especially when you have to explain the small things to people that you've become accustomed to. Like riding in a tuk tuk with no stop signs or stop lights or paying no taxes on meals or clothes. Stuff like that. Things that people don't really think about.

It's crazy to think that Cambodia is now just a memory. I just keep thinking about what I said in one of my stem writings: You can only experience Cambodia, in this moment, as it is now, only once.

We did so much, and yet, I feel like there was still an entire country left unexplored. And as much as I love feeling comfortable in my own skin and being in familiar surroundings with "real" clothes, salad, free water, and the like, I miss feeling out of place in Cambodia. I miss experiencing the unfamiliar with each new day.

The experience of Cambodia is a part of me. And hopefully a part of my future. Who knows? Maybe if/when I TESL abroad, it will be in Cambodia.

Where ever the wind takes me, I wouldn't mind if that ends up being back to Cambodia.

Day eleven (I think) in Cambodia: "If you look into their eyes, you can see tears."

Riding elephants sounds like a wonderful idea, right? Until I got to the place near Bayon Temple and actually saw the elephants...and Vuttha told me they were crying...which made me choke back a couple tears...Who ever thought seeing and elephant at an ancient temple would be that emotional?

But tourism...I realized today as we went from Bayon, to Ta Prohm, and Angkor Wat, that we are annoying. And that I want no part of being the person who sticks his tongue out, and poses with his leg in the air next to the strangle tree at the jungle temple...Nope, no parts.

Nor do I want any parts of exploiting the elephants. When Vuttha told us we could ride them, I was thinking bare back, not elephants with carts strapped around their bodies. Knowing they are also endangered and that they are mistreated while being trained also turned me off BIG TIME. Who wants a fat American riding on their back in a tacky red and gold cart? I sure wouldn't want that, so why do the elephants have to?

The crying elephants

When you think of ancient temples, you think freedom to explore, nature, and serenity, right? Until you see the massive crowds, reconstruction, and all of the rules because of the tourists. I think that there were moments today where the tourist aspect of the temple visits really overshadowed it, but then there were moments of awe and amazement. I think the latter definitely outweighs the tourism. But yet, there is something about tourism that gets under my skin that I just haven't unwraveled yet. Since I'm tired and really need to lay down and try to sleep, I will leave you with some awesome pictures and maybe talk about the tension I am feeling about tourism while being in Siem Reap at a later date.

Angkor Wat

And again

Bayon Temple



Ta Prohm--Me doing the tourist thing, minus the defilement

Angkor again...

 Just some brief food for thought.

Day seven in Cambodia: Orange is a reminder of the autumn leaves

I have the worst heat rash of my life. My neck and face are covered in little bumps that are extremely itchy. I have pink dots all of my body, marking the place where mosquitoes made meals out of me. My body is sore, my vision is blurry, and I'm exhausted.

The last three days were anything but magical. We stayed in the house of a very generous local elderly woman, just 25 minutes from Siem Reap. Even though we weren't that far from one of the most saturated tourist areas, we were still in the remote countryside.

We had foam beds and small pillows, with one sheet and one towel. But the three nights we spent were the hottest it has been since we arrived in Cambodia. Surrounding our beds were mosquito nets, and we had four small fans oscillating in the room. However, bugs still managed to find their way into our nets. And I found my "all creatures deserve to live" philosophy being challenged. I killed a beetle, some mosquitoes, and a couple other insects...and I feel very guilty about it.

Our home stay living arrangements

The "shower" situation

In order to clean off, we had to use metal and plastic bowls to splash the rainwater in the cement cylinder onto our bodies. It was a pain to shampoo or use body wash because it took forever in order to get it all off. Needless to say, I only conditioned my curly afro hair once...so it was wrestled into a bird's nest on the top of my head by the end of the stay.

We were originally supposed to do the home stay for four nights, but our professor realized that although the home stay was a good struggle for us to work through, pedagogically, it wasn't doing anything for our writing. So he, and our wonderful tour guide, Vuttha, made arrangements with the hotel for us to come earlier. Even the bumps covering my neck and my face were screaming for joy at the excellent news.

Although I have painted my experience at the home stay as miserable, and I just seem bitchy and whinny, just give me a chance to redeem myself. I recognize that despite the rough conditions, our arrangements were considered better than how the majority of the impoverished in Cambodia live. We had medicine to help us sleep and to remedy any stomach or bug bite issues. We had beds with sheets, a blanket, and a pillow, as well as mosquito nets. We had bug spray and toiletries. We ate incredibly well since the village chef cooked our meals, and we had plenty of food and bottled water. We were allowed to rinse off as often as we wanted. Although we didn't have a toilet that flushed, it was still sit down and we had toilet paper. We were still living better than the majority of Cambodian people.

According to US standards of income, my household is qualified as impoverished, but yet, this home stay was still a slap in the face for me. My family receives a lot of government assistance, but in Cambodia they don't have government aid. Their government wants them to be poor and ignorant so they can control them and be powerful and rich. There's a different type of poverty that Cambodia is dealing with in comparison to places like the US, and other countries that have governments who try to help their people. Cambodians don't have that luxury. They just have a government that wants to take advantage of them.

Despite the unforgiving cycle of poverty, the Cambodians we encountered in the villages we visited were the sweetest and kindest people I have ever interacted with.

People from one of the nearby villages we visited

The elderly women jokingly told our tour guide in Khmer that we should help her build her brick kiln.
This was $3,000.00 to build, and that's without the price of labor. She saved up for a very long time.

Although these people live in hard conditions and are stuck in the vicious cycle of poverty, they are unbelievably happy and friendly. Despite the language barrier, the people would still wave at us and some could even say hello and goodbye. Even those who couldn't, would still smile and joyfully laugh at our presence. The happiness the Cambodian people share is unlike any happiness I have ever experienced. As Americans, we have all of this luxury and wonderful opportunities, and yet, we are not as nice or peaceful as the Cambodian people are. They have a government that wants to oppress them, but yet, they still continue on with life, work hard, and smile.



This village usually can only be reached by boat, hence the reason why the houses are on stilts. But because of the lack of rain, it is not covered in water currently.

Cambodian children are the cutest!

Washers and dryers: another luxury I have taken for granted

This women claimed these were all of her children, but our tour guide was skeptical

It was difficult for our group to adjust to the lifestyle. I think it is especially hard going from an air conditioned hotel with showers and clean towels every day to sleeping in the heat and cuddling with the insects at night. I think this is a useful lesson everyone could really benefit from. We have more than the majority of the world, so we should take the time to appreciate our lives and the people around us. We should eat slower and stop complaining about the small things. The home stay really put things into perspective, and we can all learn from the happiness the Cambodia people are capable of maintaining.

Despite my heat rash that makes me look like I stuck my head into a red ant hill and how badly we all reeked when we walked into the hotel in Siem Reap, I don't think I have ever laughed as hard as I did playing soccer with some of the village kids while waiting for the paint to dry on the latrine we were helping to upgrade for one of the local primary schools. Or learning how to do the "coconut" dance or the "fish" dance while having the community watch us make fools of ourselves.



One of the kids I played soccer with

The bathroom we worked on for three days at the primary school

I wasn't very good at the coconut dance...or the fish dance...or any dance we did.
But it was still very entertaining and hysterical.

Our audience that kept getting larger and larger

I think it is the small moments and the little things we need to start appreciating, and this home stay really made me aware of how fortunate I am to be born in a country that has at least given me the opportunity to rise up out of my poverty. Life is too short, and as the orange monk robes remind us all, some day, the autumn leaves will fall. I would rather live a life of appreciation and compassion for all living beings than one in which I take everything for granted.

Day three in Cambodia: "Is this cat your pet?"

I'm sweating in places I never thought I would before. My clothes feel like they are melting to my skin. The temperature in the Buddhist temple feels more humid than it is outside. But I'm just glad to be out of the sun.

My friend, Jessica, and I are meandering around the temple, trying to figure out where the monks live and how the Buddhist temple functions.



Entrance to the Buddhist temple

And then...

I spot the cutest cat ever.
And he starts meowing at me which makes my heart melt.

I'm somewhat hesitant to pet him. What if he bites me or scratches me? It's not like I haven't pet stray cats at home before...and been bitten by them. But that was back home. Where the streets aren't as dirty and don't smell like rotten meat and fish roasting in the hot sun. Who knows what shenanigans this feline has been into.




"I bet if I rub myself against your legs you'll pet me."

"PLEASE PET ME. PUUUUUHLEEEEEASEEEEE!"

"How can you resist me now?"

And then he does all of the precious and sweet things that cats do. And he won't stop meowing and looking up at me with his vibrant pear colored eyes, begging for attention and a ginger scratch on his noggin.

Well, I'm in Cambodia...and he is in a public Buddhist temple...how dangerous could he be?



My new best friend

I couldn't say no to his little pink nose and the cheshire grin he kept giving me. I rubbed his triangular head and stroked his back a little, making sure to steer clear from his stomach area, fearful of irritating him. I wanted to avoid the transition from Dr. Kitty Jekyll to Mr. Kitty Hyde.

 

But the cat did not change temperaments. In fact, he loved his head and back rub so much, that he insisted on following Jessica and me all throughout the rest of the temple.

 

I asked one of the monks who we had been chatting with earlier if the cat was the pet to the Buddhist monks. He said it was, and so I asked him if it had a name. He just stared at me confused, and responded with, "No. No name." So yes, Buddhist monks have cell phones and nameless pets in Cambodia in case you were wondering...Orange cat, orange robs. Coincidence? I think not.

 

I realized something about the entirety of the experience. And not just petting the cat, but conversing with the monk, exploring the temple, receiving a blessing from a Buddhist, and meeting the psychedelic "Eyebrow Buddha."

 

The people were just as friendly as the cat I made friends with today (although I'm sure he has long forgotten me by now). The Buddhist monk didn't have to answer our personal and forward questions as generously and patiently as he did. And yet, nothing about what we asked him seemed to phase him. He acted as if we were doing him a favor by asking him questions.

 

He just lives his life, following the rules, in order to ensure he has a place to stay, books to read, and food to eat. And honestly, I can't blame him or judge him, or any other monks for that matter. Some may be truly devout, while others are just in it for the shelter, education, and prestige. And I'm sure that's what the cat was doing; bumming off the Buddhists so he can get loving from sappy animal-lovers like me.

Day two in Cambodia: "I hope you are happy in my country"

On full stomachs and greased from head to toe with sunblock and bug spray, we stepped in our tour bus headed for Toul Sleng Genocide Museum.



From up above and at a distance with beautiful weather, it doesn't even look like a place of torture
 

The museum is the actual place where prisoners were tortured and executed. The "special" prisoners were kept in the first building in single cells that were bigger than an average sized room.  Many were interrogated and accused of trying to counter the Khmer Rouge. They were beaten and bludgeoned, and their blood stains still remained on the vomit-yellow and off-white tile floors. The metal beds with a weave-like pattern in the middle that the prisoners were chained to still remained in the room, as well as the metal boxes the prisoners used for their bodily excretions.

Prisoner bed, with excretion box

Blood-stained tiles

One of the photographs a journalist took of one of the last 14 prisoners to be executed at S21

Even though it has been almost 30 years since these heinous crimes happened, the place still reeked of death. And once we were set free by our tour guide to meander for an hour as we pleased, I found myself in the second building on the top floor, which contained prisoner cells, with wooden doors and tiny yellow windows.

The hallway of the prison cells

Entrance to the hall

 

Walking through the cells and the hall gave me the chills, despite it being almost 90 degrees and humid outside. The pain and suffering these people endured lingered in the air--I could feel it and smell it. I had the feeling you get when you think someone is behind you, following you, even though I knew no one else was on that floor with me. My primitive senses started to kick in, determining whether to fight or flight. I could only walk through one cell and down two halls before I headed for the stairs, begging for fresh air to fill my lungs.

I located my classmates--trying to force what I just felt and experienced to the back of my mind. I immediately spotted one of my classmates talking to a Buddhist monk, who I had seen entering the museum earlier.



 

I stood there watching their conversation, trying to eavesdrop. I didn't want to be rude, but my professor noticed me watching them, and he insisted I go join in on the conversation. So I did. And I'm glad my professor encouraged me. The monk spoke very good English and he seemed very interested in answering our questions. After five minutes of talking with him, we were told we had to prepare to leave.

As we walked toward the rest of the group waiting by the gates for the bus, the monk continued to talk to me about the museum, "This place is a good lesson for the whole world. Sometimes we are told we cannot do things. So we try out best to prove to others that we can. Leaders are those people who have been told they cannot do something. So they show they can. What they originally wanted was good but it change and turn out bad." He kept on repeating how the museum was a wonderful lesson for everyone and how important education is in preventing atrocities, such as what transpired at S-21, from happening again. And not just in Cambodia, but around the world. He noted how this isn't an isolated case, and people in different countries are suffering similar fates.

Before leaving, I told the Buddhist monk my name and asked him his (sadly, I'm better at remembering faces than names and I'm sure "Courtney" was just as foreign of a name to him as his was to me), I thanked him for talking to me and he responded with, "I hope you are happy in my country." We said final goodbyes and parted ways.

I sat on the bus, preparing myself for the Killing Fields, thinking about what I had just experienced at the museum. I thought about the photographs of the people who were executed and about the people who shared their accounts about being a part of the Khmer Rouge:



One of the accounts of being in the Khmer Rouge



Another account
 

These people succumbed to the Khmer Rouge  and killed and tortured their own people for fear their fates would be sealed the same way. Both of these accounts seem remorseful, and the second one is not afraid to tell what he did while working at S-21. However, not all of them were like this; some said they had no regrets because they did what they had to in order to survive.

I want to blame poverty and the lack of education for why this human tragedy happened. But that is an easy scapegoat because education can be used to distort the way we perceive the world and can be used to rationalize the unethical treatment of humanity as well. It's difficult to find a solidified answer to the "How could this happen?" and the "Why?" I don't think there is a solution, and I think that's the point. There is no sense of closure or any amount of justice that can change what happened. I think the important questions that we should be asking are: "How do we prevent genocide from happening?" and "What small role can we play in stopping and preventing it from reoccuring around the world?"

Despite the chaos, the living conditions, and the tragic history, I think there is an element of hidden beauty in Cambodia, surrounded by valuable lessons.

I hope you are happy in my country. Yes, I am. Very much so.

Tummy flutters

I was laying in bed one night over spring break, when I heard an owl hooting outside of my window. For the suburbs of Pittsburgh this may sound bizarre, but even my sound asleep cat responded to the sound, peeping her head up and glaring her eyes towards the window with her enlarged black slivers. Instead of investigating, I just stayed in bed, letting the hoots of the owl lull me to back to sleep.

I can't stop thinking about that owl, and how I regret not slipping some shoes on to head outside and meander towards its sounds. This is how I've lived my life--sitting on the inside listening to the sounds of the outside world, content with not exploring. But now, I am restless--I have wanderlust, and I am ready to go outside and hear the owl's calming hoots.

In six days, I will be in Cambodia, with nine students from my college--writing my heart out. The emotions stirring around in my stomach are like eggs being scrambled. Every night in bed I try to picture what this owl looks like up close--and I am horribly limited due to my lack of travel experience.

Every hour of the day since the end of the semester has been engulfed by Cambodia--What am I going to wear? How crazy is my curly afro hair going to look? Where can I purchase cheap Teva sandals? What snacks should I pack? What kind of insect repellent do I get?  How much money do I bring? The list goes on and on.

Even conversations with complete strangers have been overtaken by Cambodia. "Where are you going?" The CVS pharmacist asks me while I wait in line to have my malaria pills filled. "Cambodia," I respond.

"It's probably very humid over there," my hairdresser says as she digs her fingernails into my scalp to "clarify" my out-of-control-mind-of-its-own hair. "I can show you a product to keep your ends from frizzing up."

We even talked about jet lag while she trimmed my hair. "I've never flown," I admitted. "So I'm very interested to see what jet lag feels like. I think I might just pretend it doesn't exist." She said I was "cute" for wanting to experience jet lag. But in all honestly, I am. I'm interested in all of it because I'm just so inexperienced at traveling.

I'm also inexperienced at blogging, which for an English major is a little disconcerting--and upsetting. But I have decided to try to manage a blog while on my trip, and to share my experiences with my family and friends. Maybe as time goes on I'll get better at this...thing. All I know is that I'm excited, scared, anxious, grateful, and super pumped to finally be leaving my bed and seeing the owl for myself.