9 lines 2 cross

2011-09-08T13:03:00.000-07:00

Wind rushing through my hair
inspires dreams of exploration
squinting into future travels
with difficulty in current storms

my soul as parched as the sand
surrounding these sapphire seas
inner turmoil continues this drought

my past haunts even as I am
propelled into new forms of paradise
the sail of youth flies high
as inevitable age reveals experience
beyond years known to most

my eyes are tired
as strained as my weathered skin
ready to wrinkle
with sorrow -- yet
craving laugh lines
glimpses into parallel paths

crumbling sand carries my feet
beyond the coast line
wobbling bottles reminisce
surreal dreams

dances under the moon as tide
rose among shells and toes
marathons under evergreens
traipsing into late night outhouses
salmon berry fuzz
wiping away regrets under Orion's belt

distracted by french chatter
washed off in salty waters
my soul is flipping over white caps
tossing around kelp forests
catching the edge of rusted Titanics

time has followed orient spices
past the gaze of mother's love
below the reach of blue fish fins
flown to white sand comfort
turquoise fresco's of childhood
shattered by futuristic palms

New Article on Bingo Night with Compassion Connect

2011-08-24T11:17:00.001-07:00

http://www.examiner.com/places-faces-in-portland/rebuilding-divison-through-bingo

Inspired by young girls aided by Door to Grace

2011-08-20T11:49:00.000-07:00

Am I beautiful?
What is beauty?

The makeup I pile on brings a mask to hide the truth, then I can fit the image desired.
dresses covered in frills and lace disguise any tarnished image.

Is this all necessary to see beauty?

Some say beauty is in the eye of the beholder but they never explain who the beholder is...
...what it is?

Do I decide my own beauty?

Vogue portrays glitz and glam beyond my means.
Cover Girl digitally enhances models to push higher expectations on beauty...on me.

How can I fulfill the headlines claim of catching Mr. Right without the looks?

Forever21 is a superficial dream my midlife crisis will shatter.
Following the American Eagle may trap my beauty in an over-consumptive maze.

So please answer me without any coverup!

What is beauty?
Am I beautiful?

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

YES!
You are beautiful!

Beauty is not found in labels or ruffles or glitter.
Blush cannot hide ones heart.
The true beauty shines past all the costumes.
Your soul reveals what matters.
Your actions declare a gorgeous art.
Even the simplest clothes can overshadow a models selfish interior.

Beauty is what God gifted all women.
It is the way you smile at secrets.
It is the laughter bubbling over family meals.
It is the sparkle in your babies gaze.
It is a gentle hug of support from friends.

Beauty is found in rough hands from years of caring for others.
In wrinkles formed on many sunny day squints.
In layers of skin flexible enough to carry another body and shrink back.

Beauty is every women's tie to another.
For we all love after pain...live after loss...gain more strength after struggles.

YES!
You are beauty!
Embrace the beautiful!

Cracked Moonlight

2011-08-11T16:04:00.001-07:00

Moonlight glows around the dry cracked ground

Gazing through every gap and crevice available

Searching for any hidden secret that was thrown aside

New Article on Compassion Connect

2011-07-02T23:31:00.001-07:00

http://www.examiner.com/places-faces-in-portland/compassionate-health-clinics

The Psychology Revenge

2011-05-05T09:54:00.000-07:00

"So isn't it time to ask: Who will stop the cycle? If not us, who? If not you and I, who will it be?

Do not ask for whom the bell tolls.
It tolls for thee."

--John Donne

My cousin Noah and his family need support!!!

2011-04-07T10:57:00.000-07:00

PLEASE pray, send good vibes, hope for sunshine, wish for strength, give them wisdom…whatever you can do for them during this time that is so SO hard. I wish I was closer to MN so more support could be provided.

I love them all and am keeping them in my thoughts, heart, prayers, etc….today

Routine Contradictions

2011-03-31T19:00:00.000-07:00

French artist Marcel Duchamp once said that he forces himself to contradict himself so not to conform to his own taste. He noticed that most artists only repeat themselves yet was interested by the hidden tendencies within the individual, “the man as a man.” This tendency within people to submit in their routines is what brings complications to life; it disguises boredom under the facade of relaxing comfort. Routines remain within safe traditions for individuals to carefully follow. My personal contradictions are the only things which have remained stable throughout life.

Finding a balance between all my past beliefs, experiences, thoughts; who I was before pregnancy and the person I have become. Climbing out of a routine and discovering the woman as a woman who has survived all of these experiences. The woman who can share these experiences with others who may have no connection but possess their own stories of strength and suffering. The woman who can raise a strong, confident and aware daughter in a society overly commercialized by sexual images praising self-absorption. I am beginning to notice all the many differences in this woman and, really, not all of them are dreadfully boring! I am sure that my inevitable contradictions will keep life exciting and not allow for routines to sink in.

Response to a post on Japan...link included with title

2011-03-20T11:38:00.000-07:00

It is important to be concerned and aware of the events Japan and Libya (do not forget what is occurring in North Africa just because a new tragedy has appeared) because even if you do not follow the global community ideals, these situations impact your small town greatly. Anything connected to their economy will rise in price…GAS AGAIN…plus our west coast has already experienced harsher waves from the shaking earth near Japan. Japan was the most prepared for this situation and we can all see how awful things turned out, just imagine what would happen in the Seattle area.

Anyway, besides getting wrapped up in reasons why we should be interested…we must understand how businesses exploit the pain of people over there as well. Do you think the father crying over his daughter’s body was asked if his picture could be taken? Did the photographer attempt to console him or simply snap a photo and carry on to the next deadline? The media tries to show the most extreme stories to attract more readers/viewers just as businesses claim to donate 100% of sales to aid Japan. Who is holding them accountable to this? Are they simply clearing out new stock and gaining a “good citizen” status for the year?

Then you have to think of why you are REALLY interested. Is it because of the economic effects, geological effects, humanitarian aid, or personal involvement? Are you pained by the thought of another human suffering no matter who they are or where they are? I cannot help but share their pain in some way because I believe we are all connected as humans and should step up to aid no matter who it is for. This is an individual choice though and cannot be forced on others. If I was not tied up in a busy life in Portland, OR or had the money/chance to go personally aid Libya or Japan…I really would try because I believe that is the only way to really help any tragic situation. We cannot console each person who has lost a loved one by simply sending a check or sharing their story…Although, sharing their story may provide insight for the kind of aid required and sending a check may pay for some of the material damage. But the emotional damage will remain for years after American media has shot its last “prize winning photo” and beyond the last click for anyone trying to rant on facebook.

There are countries still suffering from pain of colonization hundreds of years ago that NGOs provide support for in the best way they can. There are people in this country still suffering from losing family members, curling up under bridges for shelter, or stealing water from a public pipe on the highway because that is all they know for survival. These people need NGOs as well. They need to feel the warmth of a global community surrounding them. Rants, posters, checks, news alerts, and business donations for sale days will not aid these people. They require a person showing up and asking what is needed for them to live another day with a little less pain then they had today. This can only happen when people step away from their own assumptions about how to help and TAKE ACTION!!! Nobody can begin to understand the pain of another unless they join them in support while trying to repair it.

2011-03-18T21:17:00.000-07:00

"I see the girl Joyce Glassman, twenty-two, with her hair hanging down below her shoulders, all in black like Masha in The Seagull—black stockings, black skirt, black sweater—but, unlike Masha, she’s not in mourning for her life. How could she have been, with her seat at the table in the exact center of the universe, that midnight place where so much is converging, the only place in America that’s alive? As a female, she’s not quite part of this convergence. A fact she ignores, sitting by in her excitement as the voices of the men, always the men, passionately rise and fall and their beer glasses collect and the smoke of their cigarettes rises toward the ceiling and the dead culture is surely being wakened. Merely being there, she tells herself, is enough."

From Minor Characters by Joyce Johnson

thoughts on relocating

2011-03-13T21:16:00.001-07:00

I finally realized...or atleast admitted to myself what I had been denying myself as a reason for attending Concordia. I had wanted to believe it was entirely sociological and geographical; all for the purpose of better understanding a subculture that I knew little about in an area new enough to keep me interested. This was true but not the main reason that I was drawn to such a small blip on the west coast...Interestingly enough this relocation was from an even smaller dot on the east coast that had provided a lovely community. I left this school that brought more positive connections that I could have ever thought possible for deeper causes. I could no longer be surrounded by all the artisitic support after my cool facade threatened cracking. My most painful reality was challenged each day with personal assignments to create, to dig deeper. I went instead to a place where my brother would have fit in perfectly.

2011-03-09T20:52:00.001-08:00

"There are no perfect men in this world. Only perfect intentions."

Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves

Foggy Fantasies

2011-02-23T20:03:00.000-08:00

The more time I spend on the west coast, the more my heart desires the east coast…Not simply in this “want what I don’t have” way which was the case when I was on the east coast and followed my cravings back to the west side. No, this is something stronger. There is a different pace to life on the other side of this vast nation that appeals to my soul. I cannot keep up with the trends, parties, cities so popular to the west anymore. I would much prefer the casual action that seems to remain so artisticly persistant throughout the not-so-mundane daily tasks. There is a closer sense of unity, or atleast interest in others, in which people seem satisfied with their weekend plans, not this heightened sense of trying to fill every day with a new excitement and meet new people. This trend of non-stop new friends is superficial and does not bring the ever-lasting comfort that a small close group of support can.

This picture pulls at my desires for apple orchards and lazy afternoons waltzing around them. I hope my cravings are not simply for somewhere else that seems fabulous because I am bored with this current place…that is a vicious cycle that can become numbing. Hopefully, the apple orchards are still as whimsical as I recall not barren and foggy after so many years.

weekend in Gleneden Beach, OR

2011-02-14T11:47:00.000-08:00

My body sat limp as the water surrounded every crevice

the foam tickled my fingertips as the rain splattered across every exposed surface

drops jumping in unison as if choreographed to to a violent ballad

waves pressed hard against my core

drowning out the soft flicks of raindrops

As the storm raged on my body sunk deeper

each breath further relaxed my tired limbs

finally escaping urban tensions had brought peace

my passion was renewed by this frantic weather

Refocusing amidst transitions

2011-02-10T18:48:00.000-08:00

one must begin to ponder present actions

stop living by the wind

seeming to plan for tomorrow yet when it comes

why halt without a breath

is it the shock of accomplishment

need for a next move

life isn’t a strategic battle

stop setting traps

while dodging possible blessings

Reminder of the Original Alberta

2010-07-30T20:34:00.000-07:00

Reminder of the Original Alberta

Check out my new article on the Examiner!

More than just Biology Credit in Belize

2010-05-14T14:11:00.000-07:00

Education involves more than simply memorizing rhetoric and compiling flawless APA style papers. The material can leave an entirely different impression upon one person’s mind depending on the environment surrounding them. I have discovered that one topic approached in the Czech Republic has an entirely different focus in Germany, although the countries are close and cultures relatively similar.

Although, my recent trip to Central America actually connected various traditions I have observed in Southeast Asia. I have spent a total of four months in Southeast, mainly Cambodia, teaching English and Computer skills to indigenous youth. At first it was simply the climate of Belize that brought me back to Southeast Asia. Any frustrations I had towards the tourist aspects of this trip were calmed by the warm breeze carrying a sweet sugar cane scent through our bus.

As soon as I could interact with locals around San Jose Succotz, in the Cayo district of Belize, my mind began to race with previous experiences. I tried to clear them so new perspectives could be let in from this tropical culture, but even those seemed reminiscent of Southeast Asia. It was not that I held onto traditions discovered in my past visits to the tropical climate of Southeast Asia; only that this culture was extremely similar to the other.

The people of Belize melded with the environment surrounding them just as smoothly as those in Cambodia. They came from an agricultural background and passed down knowledge of using nature for their benefit, while still preserving its resources, through many generations. Their ancestors had already faltered from misusing the land and now it common sense to comingle with the environment, rather than dominate for a short time.

This devastation from human’s arrogantly taking advantage of natural resources was extremely apparent within the landscape of Guatemala. Pastures stretched for miles along the roadside to provide grazing areas for beef cattle that will eventually be shipped around the world. Gorgeous fields of Banana trees balanced these wide open stretches spotted with cattle. Although I was excited to be in a more familiar culture, the sight of this commercial land-use outweighed any joy. Grazing pastures and fruit tree plantations are the main causes for deforestation in tropical areas.

We had to stop numerous times for work crews widening the main highway to permit easier access for dump trucks. I find this quite ironic because in Southeast Asia, the Chinese have paid for road work to enable their dump trucks access to precious gems and plantations; however, these same trucks have created more potholes and landslides than were previously seen on the dirt roads. The environment does not quickly bounce back from these offenses.

Nature does triumph in the end though, as was seen all over the Mayan temples of Tikal. These massive structures have nearly returned to the earth around them despite the efforts of humans to restore their luster. The same situation occurred with Angkor in Siem Reap, Cambodia. When humans overused the natural resources they were forced to abandon the city and allow the forest to rebuild. They lost details of their city under the forest canopy for centuries; only now is it apparent how different these two tropical regions really are.

Angkor was preserved by the forest, except a few Strangler Figs crushing down through stone walls; however, Tikal nearly crumbled under the dirt of the forest. Now humans are uncovering and preserving Tikal for future generations to enjoy its glory. Yet, the structures of Angkor have been mistreated by tourism. The Cambodians had attempted to clean every bit of nature off these structures to reveal exquisite details for others to view, but did not realize that these bits of nature were the structures only protection against erosion. Now they are limiting human contact with the surfaces and attempting to reconstruct a few buildings that collapsed after being cleaned. The powerful effects of nature cannot be avoided and each country has learned to respect them over time.

The locals were full of other stories in which nature dominated arrogant humans who had blindly led others to their end. Although none were as poignant as the modern examples seen daily throughout my trip, whether in farmlands of Guatemala or along the rivers of Belize, humankind’s impact was too obvious. Their consequences are fast approaching and must be realized as part of reality before future generations are faced with them.

I have not dismissed every bit of information relating to biology during this trip, but rather added to it throughout my experience. These new cultures blended with my previous ideologies to form a rich educational encounter that will not be forgotten. I only hope that others who can this opportunity will make changes to preserve the environment and connect, rather than dominate whatever resources are available.

2010-01-17T11:07:00.000-08:00

please continue supporting IYDP/IDEAS by buying my postcards....http://www.etsy.com/shop/9lines2cross

Article in the Chronicle

2010-01-17T11:04:00.002-08:00

My roommate invited me to attend the Concordia bachelor auction in the spring of 2008, my first semester attending the school. It seemed like an entertaining event that could break the monotony of classes and work. After sharing a few laughs as women challenged each other in bidding wars and men showed off a bit, I wondered when the female equivalent would be held. I was shocked to discover that Concordia was this traditional in student activities, especially in Portland.

My previous college that I had attended before Concordia held a co-ed auction. Even my high school had both sexes represented during auctions and pageants. Mr. SHS was balanced with a Ms. SHS and only had issues when students made t-shirts proclaiming themselves as “snohos”.

After speaking with the specific staff positions relating to student events of this nature, I began to lose hope. Although I could take the issue to ASCU they would not have the ultimate authority to make official changes. I decided to try again the next semester this auction was held and I was actually in the country.

The main issue that I would like to address is how a double-standard is being upheld with this auction only including men. Not even the notion of students attaching too many emotions on the date they are bidding upon really irks me. That is actually kind of understandable, since Concordia is one of those Christian colleges that half-consciously encourages students to be coupled up.

The embarrassing acts that men performed to attract dates and demean themselves are what bothered me when I last attended the auction. It is true that the mainstream American society is more comfortable in approaching male sexuality from a humorous position. However, women are continually show-cased as being extremely sexual creatures that even rank and compare themselves. Both unhealthy views toward sexuality are harmful to a person’s ego and should be avoided when holding an auction of this type.

This unequal depiction shown in the fashion world, movies and music throughout America can only change when the society as a whole follows different opinions. Equalizing all events throughout society without attaching sexual connotations to the people involved. Auctions should not place any person in an objectifying situation regardless of their gender.

Many schools and charity organizations have done this by holding co-ed auctions for group dates or service events. The first three items that appear when one searches for “bachelorette auctions” on the internet are co-ed auctions. These events around the nation are seeking volunteers to auction themselves off for charity.

They often require the purchase of an expensive ticket even to attend. Such as, the Sacramento “Up for Bid” held in mid-September that cost thirty-five dollars for individual tickets. These profits cover the costs to hold the event and an immense amount for charity. When bidders purchase the ticket they are reminded what intentions are placed upon this event and their money.

Upon entering the Guys and Dolls auction for Cystic Fibrosis guests receive a flyer that includes a bio of each bachelor and bachelorette, rules to how the bids will be received, and details surrounding the date. They are very specific as to holding the date in a public place and advertising the day it will occur to avoid many safety concerns. When I attended Concordia’s auction the bachelors were responsible for arranging the date and time of their date with the bidder. It seems to me that many issues could be avoided if guidelines were set before the auction. Concordia should be responsible for maintaining a secure atmosphere for their students no matter what gender they are.

There are many unexpected emotions and insecurities that may arise after many possibilities in holding an equal and safe auction for the bachelors, bachelorettes, and bidders are accounted for. I can only think that people will have to deal with these things as they come. The only bit of advice relating to this issue, even just for the bachelor auction, would be to remember that this is just a fun event for charity. Students should not place too much pressure on the bachelor or bidder to uphold their end of the bargain. They do not have any specific contract with obligations towards each other. Each date is just a fun outing that was purchased for charity.

That is actually another point that seems to be lost during the hilarious entertainment surrounding this auction. All of the money being raised is for charity! The amount of money spent on a participant should not be taken too personally. Especially since Concordia is such a tight community of friends who do not always happen to be wealthy. There is way too much pressure placed on the bid amount that could negatively affect the bachelor or bachelorette. However, if either does take this number personally it is their own issue to solve and not the school’s fault. It is ridiculous to assume that Concordia can protect each and every student’s self-esteem throughout the duration of the school year. So why place so much emphasis on this one auction?

just a bit late...

2010-01-17T11:04:00.001-08:00

I must apologize for not posting anything after setting this up towards the beginning of fall. I had planned to continue posting articles from the Concordia newspaper, or at least random thoughts that occurred throughout my routine. However, my routine began to possess the majority of my time despite my stubborn fights to relax amongst friends. Rather than being able to enjoy their company, I found myself exhausted after a full day of work and classes. My mind even began to quite down as it craved the comfort of silent pillows. Now that another insane semester has finally come to an end after endless papers, tests, espresso shots and tubes of paint to bring some relief; I can find a break to fill everyone in on the thoughts that have returned with fervor!

It is quite a strange phenomenon actually. After spending a completely blank day in front of several videos, it was nearly impossible to halt the verbal assault brought on within myself. It appears that I had been hibernating for those months of superficial interactions with fellow coffee drinkers. It could also just have been my high level of daily caffeine intake acting as a sedative for once. The later theory is probably more realistic, but achieving a functional subconscious state is not entirely impossible.

Ladislav Klima even held this state above any that could be found within a conscious one. He treasured supposed dreams as being more realistic connections that require a higher level of intelligence to fully attain. Bits of this could be plausible. If one attempts the focus required for lucid dreaming, that can bring a more insightful perspective to thoughts often just discussed in the waking state, they may already possess a level of intelligence above the average reality.

SO now I will post some of the articles...hope they are enjoyed. I miss you all and wish we could meet up and simply discuss everything in person.

Cambodia Fundraiser

2010-01-07T15:04:00.000-08:00

Please check out my postcards on ETSY that will be sold in attempts to raise funds for a return trip to teach in Cambodia and aid the youth I work with in any way possible. I will be posting vintage clothes, hand knit scarves and various Cambodian crafts soon.

peace and love,

Brooklin

http://www.etsy.com/shop/9lines2cross

just beginning....another fall

2009-07-29T14:49:00.000-07:00

I have been keeping a sampasite over the past two years while traveling but was just informed that the provider will be shutting down. Luckily, I have heard from many friends about this provider and just switched most everything over...except photos...not sure what to do with those yet. So please feel free to catch up on my past posts before I add anything new, which I will do soon.

peace and love

notes from surrealism...walk around Prague (original 27 April)

2009-07-29T14:16:00.002-07:00

look up
avoid preggers
explore the depths
follow blondie
over cracks
twisting
smoldering
reaching
jump higher
over smokestacks
look down
sneeze ancestry
extinguish chambers
annihilate history
bricked over
cracked passageways
crumbling
whispering
stalking

(return home now)

observing the regular crowds underground (original 20 April)

2009-07-29T14:16:00.001-07:00

Thugs pulling chocolate bars from behind their belts

Trading amateur porn

Huddled in the back of a rickety metro

Wrapped in flesh colored corduroy years below her

Sneakers laced up tight

Not-so-crafty hustler tripped on the escalator

Camouflaged against the soviet inspired cement

Ticket control hunts

Catching nearly innocent tourists in cold solid lines

Blazers rush toward the approaching train

Clutching briefcases close

Barely evading slippery fingers on the side

Four minutes of silence underground

Find your spot

Careful not to make eye contact with other lonely souls

Lights appear with a rush of cold air

Just in time

Drunkards can part ways before exchanging numbers

Crowds jam the stairs searching for smokes

Nicotine levels decreasing

Tensions rise as tourists block half a step

Heels reach ancient Czech cobblestones

Stumble slowly onward

Weaving under stars brighter than any child’s eyes

just another night in Praha (original 17 April)

2009-07-29T14:15:00.002-07:00

One night around town can lead to many random events that will hardly make sense the next morning but, for one instant seem perfectly fine to be occurring. As long as the night tram shows up at some point and everyone makes it back to the kolej (dorm) one could assume the night went well. However, looking back on some of the more obscure nights in Prague it becomes increasingly debatable that anyone has survived this far into the semester.

One night after visiting a pub that was expensive even compared to prices in the states I ventured out to the beer factory in Wenceslas Square with another American student, Sophie Vodvarka, from Creighton University in Nebraska. We had heard about it from other students but never actually visited because it had been described like an average club with deafening music and seizure inducing lights. However, it seemed like a perfect place to acquire free drinks and since we were both running low on koruna (Czech crowns) our disdain for the club atmosphere could be ignored.

Just as expected after our first beers were just beginning to get low two men asked to sit with us and began to order more drinks. They explained their reason for being in Prague was simply a week vacation from work in Belgium. Although the music was too loud for any verbal conversing, it did not prevent us from passing notes around on coasters.

The two were interested in visiting the United States but, only Alaska, for the Northern Lights and whatever town possessed the best wildlife. I passed along the little information I remembered from my parents’ stories of Alaska. Both men were extremely excited to discuss the places they should visit but, wanted to go somewhere we could actually speak to each other.

Vodvarka knew of a quiet place across town that usually was only crowded downstairs because it only provided one type of beer upstairs. Nearly as soon as we entered and ordered four Stella Artois it became apparent that another pub might be needed soon. Even as I was ordering the Belgian men appeared uncomfortable with the group of Africans arguing just outside.

I simply sat down beside Vodvarka and began to discuss what could be going on outside. “It is probably a misunderstanding over somebody being charged too much,” Vodvarka assumed.

This made sense since Tulip, the pub we were currently inside, was mostly just a cover business to deal marijuana from downstairs. Even though it is legal to smoke and possess marijuana in the Czech Republic, as long as it is “a small amount”, it is not legal to distribute or sell any amount.

One of the African men, who wore a traditional African Dashiki, quickly entered the main room followed by an African man dressed in average Western clothes. Two more came in attempting to hold back the man in Western clothes. He was shouting at the other man who was now behind the bar wiping sweat off his face.

“Come back outside and fight like a man! Don’t hide back there acting like a better man when everybody knows you’re just scared. I have killed many in Africa and can do it again if needed!” yelled the man in Western clothing while shaking his fist at the man wearing a Dashiki.

The other two men grabbed his arms and tried to drag him back outside but this only seemed to increase his rage. Each time they seemed to have succeeded in silencing his shouts the other man would look up and begin speaking calmly.

“We are brothers and I do not want to raise a finger against you. Please let us just talk inside and smoke together for a bit. I mean no harm against you and wish to explain myself if you would only let me,” explained the man in a Dashiki.

These comments meant to calm the other man’s anger actually only provoked him further. As the one calmly requested another route be taken in solving the disagreement between them, the other would break his arms free and again rush toward the bar yelling. At one point he grabbed an empty beer bottle from behind the bar, when the other man was walking into a side room, and threw it toward his opposition. The bottle shattered against his forehead and blood began to trickle down his forehead.

“Why do you continue to harm me brother? Our blood is the same. We have both struggled in the same battles and should not be against each other anymore,” stated the man wearing a Dashiki.

The Belgians had continued to become uneasy throughout this entire fight. Vodvarka and myself simply watched intrigued in the whole situation. I regretted not having brought a camera out that night but at least could take notes on the coasters. One of the Belgian men found this very humorous and asked if I wanted some popcorn.

However, as soon as the fuming man had been taken outside the Belgians decided to leave. Vodvarka and I said that we were going to finish our beers since it would be a waste to leave them so full. The two Belgian men gave us strange looks but went outside to at least figure out what was going on.

They both spoke French and were able to find out that all four of the African men were from Senegal but did not meet until they reached the Czech Republic. Supposedly the man outside had become upset because, his keys were locked inside his car that was still running at that moment.

While the room had become quiet I took the opportunity to speak with the other man, who was still simply wiping blood off his forehead and picking up pieces of glass around the bar. He explained that when he arrived at Tulip the other man had been urinating outside the bar.

“I asked him to stop and said ‘Come inside man, we have a toilet you can use.’ He just waved his hand at me and shook his head. I asked again and said ‘Please this is a place of business.’ But he did not listen to me and than became angry when he tried to get back in his car but found out the door was locked and the keys were inside. I said that he could come in and use our phone but than he started yelling at me that it was all my fault,” exclaimed the man in a Dashiki.

I still believe there was more behind the disagreement but did not want to push further. Although the man in a Dashiki seemed very sincere and was extremely dramatic when explaining that he did not have anything against his “brother in Christ”. He even got down on one knee and made the sign of the cross while stating, “Christ shed his blood for him just as he did for you and me, so that we could all share in the beauty of his love. Why does my brother not see this? We are from the same country and any controversy that may have happened is in the past and we must forgive each other.”

The Belgians did not have much luck calming down the other man who entered even angrier than before and attempted to jump the bar this time. I returned to our booth and quickly finished my beer since Vodvarka had finished hers and was ready to leave. The Belgians were relieved to finally escape the conflict inside and did not mind their beers were not finished.

We parted ways at the tram stop and wished each other good luck for the rest of our lives. We all knew that even though they had a few more days any chance of actually meeting up again was slim. Vodvarka and I got on the night tram and waved as they lit a cigarette for the walk back to their hostel. Nothing more was discovered of the conflict at Tulip and I actually have not returned since that night.

Prag-Praha-Prague-Praga (original 17 April)

2009-07-29T14:15:00.001-07:00

A disgustingly beautiful city full of contradictions. It draws on the attractions of struggling souls competing for space with weathered shrubs, all stuck in the middle of icy cobblestones. However cold the Czech people appear they can be bubbling over with many stories and laughter after a few beers, yet they are quite rude to people they dislike for no apparent reason.

The Czechs assumed Alicia and Jose Berrios were Roma people because they have darker skin tones than most Europeans. The Latino couple had arrived in Prague with a phone number from the Hospitality Club of a possible house to stay overnight at but, received no help in finding a phone. At least until they introduced themselves to an American student studying in Prague for the semester.

I had expected to simply enjoy a cappuccino before class but Alicia approached me requesting help with calling a Czech number. She had assumed that I was Czech and spoke slowly in hopes that I could understand her accented English. Unfortunately, I do not own a cell phone and began to explain the issue when, I saw a classmate enter the café.

Luckily, she had a cell phone and Alicia became ecstatic upon realizing that we were both Americans and spoke English perfectly fine. The phone number she had went unanswered and the Berrios’ excitement faded with worries of where to spend the night. I proposed that they could stay in our dorm, Kolej Komenskeho, since it was advertised as “the cheapest accommodations” in Prague. This declaration proved true when Alicia only paid for one bed that they could both share.

As I prepared a meal on our hotplate with one working burner, the Berrios explained how, and why, they were in Europe for the next forty-five days. “We realized that our dream would never happen if we continued waiting for the day our finances would stabilize. Even though our family has been worried about the whole idea, we had to do it sooner than later,” Alicia exclaimed.

They continued to tell of how they had sold their embroidery business in Fort Lauderdale, Florida along with nearly all of their material possessions. Now only Alicia’s photography, along with Jose’s paintings, saxophone, clarinet, and trumpet remained at their previous apartment now resided by a relative.

“We sold our two cars and bought an RV van that is awaiting our return in June; than we will begin driving around North and South America for a couple years stopping at campgrounds and festivals to sell our artwork. Alicia makes jewelry that we can sell for gas money and I have begun selling my paintings online,” explained Jose.

I accompanied the Berrios on a walk along the river to Vysehrad so they could attain a better view of the entire city. Alicia soon agreed that photographing strangers is more exciting than capturing the ever present landscape. We caught intimate expressions of people lounging along the riverbank and debated what their story could be. After spending the entire day witnessing a moment of random characters’ lives Jose could not hold back hunger pangs.

“We need to buy beer for the walk back. It is my fuel to carry on!” he proclaimed as we started to walk down from Vysehrad.

Our speed increased along with the pains in our feet as we came closer to Kolej Komenskeho. Alicia would lag until Jose made a joke that nearly started an asthma attack she laughed so hard. He even questioned if walking was cheaper than simply purchasing a tram pass since, after all our shoes were wearing down and we could almost feel the cobblestones underneath. However, after another night of pasta, fruit and beer shared with hilarious conversations we could barely say farewell.

They left with a promise that we would meet again in the states and so I only wished them luck on their trip, rather than saying goodbye. Another student, Sophie Vodvarka, in the kolej (dorm) wandered off with the Berrios on a hiking trail from Prague to Vienna early Saturday morning. They were hoping to reach Vienna in at least three days so that Vodvarka, originally from Nebraska, could return to classes in Prague.

catching up (original 17 April)

2009-07-29T14:14:00.001-07:00

During my first week of studies in Prague I discovered a bulleting board with posts for students to exchange their language in turn for another. After creating a post, I received numerous responses from Czechs interested in practicing their English skills. During the first week I met a total of six different Czech men who possessed various levels of English skills. One girl did respond to the post but, my reply email to her went unanswered and later when she became my friend’s tandem we learned of her concern that I was a man. Apparently Brooke is considered a masculine name to most Czechs; which explains why all my other responses were men who seemed quite shocked to meet a petite young girl.

I was actually shocked myself that our first meetings lasted a minimum of four hours! We never seemed to run out of conversation topics while speaking in English, some that was very shaky and broken. One man, who is an Anthropology Major and has been meeting with me once a week, is always very nervous while attempting to compare our cultures in English but is full of information. During our first meeting we discussed our backgrounds with drinking before discussing his latest research project entitled “Pub Tales”. He is collecting various stories that are simply overheard at the local pubs scattered throughout the Czech Republic and analyzing the culture of these people. Since than we have discussed everything from holiday traditions to the drugs created during Communism which are still more popular than their counterparts that were banned at that time.

These meetings in local apartment cafes and even expensive formal restaurants have led me to better understand who the Czech people really are. Since, I have met with extremely different people who provide an array of perspectives to draw conclusions from. One tandem is nearly the complete opposite of the one mentioned previously, who Majored in Law and Sociology and is now working on his Ph.D. in both while working for a legal company, had traveled enough to discuss the rest of the world in every subject we explored. Unfortunately, we only met once because he had to study in Germany most of April. I was simply left with new realizations of just how different America is than the rest of the world’s cultures, those that are somehow much more similar in everyday customs. For instance, both Europe and Asia are not worried about spending time just sitting with a stranger over drinks for hours and accidentally missing another appointment that was supposed to occur during that same time. Time is approached with less stress and worries over deadlines and efficiency, which I have to agree, is not as important as America makes it out to be.

Another tandem, who is a psychology major hoping to study in Seattle this coming September, brought me to a teahouse that he frequently spends hours experimenting with various brews. We shared a hookah and tasted a few varieties of tea from Japan, China and Taiwan while comparing Prague and Seattle. He explained the main inspiration for picking that city was his interest in the grunge music scene. I have since than come across many Czechs who are also very into that era of music; it is often their only reference to Seattle!

So even though my Czech has not improved too much from these meetings, I have taken more than was expected from our discussions of football (soccer) hooligans and the lucky chance Michel’s father had to swim in the Baltic Sea during Communism, just before the Soviet’s entered Prague in 1968. Hopefully, I will continue to expand my language skills during random encounters at pubs and shows around the city.

double sided Czechs (original 21 March)

2009-07-29T14:13:00.002-07:00

There are two faces to every Czech. The evidence for these faces seems to be more difficult to uncover than the usual sides people show in other countries. It is not simply the more reserved public side that follows certain social etiquette as can be observed in Poland and most of America, although it is fading quite fast in the states.
Each generation seems to become more casual and slowly erase the line between public and private life. Especially, with after the advent of online social networks that allow nearly everything to be shared with whoever has the ability to view ones profile.
However, the contrasting sides of average Czechs are deeper than it ever was in other countries. Only China and Korea could possibly understand the lifestyle these people have had to create for survival during the communist era. Learning to abide by the parties rules so not to be taken in for a random comment made to the wrong individual. Czechs mastered this lifestyle so well that many still act in a similar manner.
They pick a seat on the tram and find a direction to stare without making eye contact in anyway. Of course, everyone remains nearly silent except with a few comments to an acquaintance if they notice one. Even when these two Czech notice each other they will not crack a smile but maintain the stern expression perfectly mastered from years of being watched.
During the communist days people had to be wary of who they met with even if no relationship really existed between them. The party could use any excuse for investigating someone else’s life. There were secret tricks developed for those who did not want to upset the party. Although, many did not care to let the party keep them in fear and developed another extreme.
It was most common for people to only relax in the private of their home. Except conversations still had to be limited in every room but the bathroom. There were some people who did not mind this at all though and saw no reason to restrict their lifestyle. They created an underground that held parties as if nothing had changed from their life before communism.
These artist, writers and intellectuals were used as an example of how comrades should not be living. They were seen as indulgent hedonists and often bothered by the party for their actions. Some left the country to continue their career of writing text not allowed in the Czech Republic as Milan Kundera. Others were arrested for music that was too unique for the party to accept like that of the Plastic People of the Universe.
Even the most serious of Czechs can enjoy a viewing for one of Jan Svankmajer’s films since they revel most anything eccentric. Especially when it is accompanied by subtle humor that is not easy to detect. Svankmajer has an interesting approach to filming food and advertisements that provides humor for most Czechs but foreigners are often disgusted or simply cannot understand it.
The people of the Czech Republic who developed a double life during communism have only increased their complicated personas. Unlike the public and private sides of Americans, or even the Czech’s neighbors in Poland, is quite easier to detect. However, it seems that Czechs were more complex before communism and simply added another layer to their character to live under the party. Kundera explained characters as not being born like people, of woman, but born of situation.
“A sentence, a metaphor, containing in a nutshell a basic human possibility...They are my own unrealized possibilities. That is why I am equally fond of them and equally horrified by them,” Kundera wrote on development of characters in his novels.
There is a connection to this expansion of a false persona to that of any individual in reality. The Czech people have morphed over time because of various events that affected their society. Communism was not the only time their culture was twisted around. When Catholicism first spread throughout the country many people were forced to convert. Now the majority holds a negative opinion toward religion and register as Atheists. The history of the Czech Republic is just as complex as the characters united as Czechs.

unite where the ear cannot find you (original 21 March)

2009-07-29T14:13:00.001-07:00

Come fellow comrades to the farm in the cave and dance the night away. Join hands in the great hall overflowing with decadent wax sculptures. They are melting smoother than the inner structure of our party, which has begun to collapse under pressures of fear. Come away from the empty streets dotted with lenses for the party to peer into every corner from a safe distance. Grab a pint in the crowded pub and whisper amongst your fellow comrades, just beware of what the bartender overhears. Do not complain of his sloppy pouring for the secret police are never instructed in the art of mixing drinks. When we attempt to stagger onto the night tram, remember to find a sweet gal who can make the ride more enjoyable.

exploring Praha 5 (original 3 March)

2009-07-29T14:12:00.001-07:00

I'm a stagnant body in motion
pushed along well traveled tracks
gliding amidst foreign crowds
exiting among rundown pastel structures
those reminiscent of New York's projects
just brighter -- less industrial
balconies decorated with soviet kitsch
dogs chasing the wind in grassy dunes
behind this attempted development
trains tagged by locals whiz past
shaking window panes
rustling laundry strung between buildings
threatening every dog in the area
challenging others to conquer nature as well
across the tracks
quaint cottages rest easy behind fences
shaded by native pines
accented with seemingly random poppies
mothers cruise by with fully loaded carriages
no city traffic to disturb their child's sleep
I'm quickly avoided with a slight turn of the wrist
my tousled appearance startles them
It seems that I meshed better on the other side of these tracks

PDA and alcohol carry history for Czechs (original 27 February)

2009-07-29T14:11:00.002-07:00

The Czech Republic is a country whose culture drastically morphed throughout the time of communism. There are various soviet remnants strewn around the gorgeous city of Prague. My dorm, for instance, is a concrete block similar to the apartments shown in Goodbye Lenin. Walls painted orange and yellow provide a vibrant backdrop for to the plain brown furniture-mass produced with flimsy particle board. The modern vending machines clash with the simple white tables decorated by light pink cloth and fake flowers in the cafeteria.
People were so worried of being imprisoned for unknowingly saying something against the party they would leave those concrete structures and crowd into dark pubs. Now the culture nearly revolves around drinking beer in local pubs more often than at home. A few traditional bars remain on the wishes of the first President Havel as reminders of what held the people together during risky times.
Couples would meet on public trams so nobody could report on who was visiting their apartment, just in case one of them was "against the party". They would squeeze onto trams and whisper to each other crowded with strangers. Hasty kisses were taken while couples shared a seat on the trams. This practice still continues with old and young couples publicly displaying their affection very openly on the trams. The old pubs remaining are just as packed with locals as these these Trams used to be; so packed that nobody can get a seat unless a local fades away like communism.

Vday article (original 15 February)

2009-07-29T14:11:00.001-07:00

It seems nearly impossible to be surrounded by gorgeous structures inspired by love and not believe in romance. Couples around Prague openly show their affection toward one another, whether they are sitting on the tram or watching the sunset on the Charles Bridge.

It is not simply the Baroque and Gothic structures that create a magical scenery but, the history surrounding these castles and bridges is soaked in love stories. These architectural feats creating romance were built for the love of another.

The castle in Cesky Krumlov nestled above a rock near the riverbank was built and named after a fair maiden. According to local legends Rozmberk Jost followed a doe until it disappeared beyond the cliffs by Vtava. A fair maiden appeared in its place and Jost’s heart instantly belonged to her. The young woman would not believe him though, unless he proved his love in deeds. The castle was built as proof of his love to her and named Divci Kamen, or Maiden’s Rock.

These public displays of affection were never limited to one day of the year or mass produced by card companies. These grand structures were only an attempt to express the strength of a person’s feeling toward the other.

Now they inspire others to take risks in conveying exactly what emotions are created by their love. When someone loves another they often cannot wait to find privacy before embracing their significant other. Love slips out at random times and usually can barely be controlled by those involved in the relationship.

Czechs seem to let their emotions dictate their actions. They are not bothered by the time or place of any sign of affection. History has shown them that love is too powerful to attempt restraining to one day.

O' Barang! (original 24 June)

2009-07-29T14:10:00.002-07:00

I am so sorry to have not posted anything on here for so long. Last week I was caught up with the students for 12 or more hours each day. They ended up accomanying me to the market or inviting me over for lunch most days, as well as staying later to use the internet. One night we even just watched some Karaoke videos I purchased at the market after they checked their emails and added a bit to their websites. Four of them have websites now and I hope they can keep up with them while I am away. I will post the links for all of them later, so far the Krung website I added a link for earlier is the most detailed.

Friday I had an interesting trip to Prey Veng beginning with the students attiving at 5:30 in the morning to use the internet before it shut off for the day. The minibus (van) broke down before coming to get me so they had to send the large bus around to pick everyone up and I was last. Somehow they got lost and drove around the lake instead of turning up to Anne's house but luyckily one of the students chased them on his Moto to bring them back! I said farewell to everyone standing around the front gate and sat down next to a Laos women from Veun Sai. She knew enough English that we could talk for a bit and I practiced my Khmer and Krung with her since she knew both! However, I had been up late with the students eating Jackfruit and watching Karaoke or listening to Indigenous Gong music then up early with them again. So, I quickly fell asleep for the bumpy ride towards Kratie. After a quick lunch and parting ways with the Laos women, we headed even further South. Soon enough we arrived at the intersection that I would transfer to Prey Veng at.

So, I departed from the bus and they headed towards Phnom Penh.

Immediately I was surrounded by Moto drivers offering me various prices to Prey Veng. Luckily I knew enough Khmer to refuse and slowly cross the street to find a minibus headed that way. I had a note written in Khmer of my final destination that helped me find a bus to take me part way but, they wanted to put me up top with two Motos because the inside was full of people already. Somehow in the confusion of people trying to secure me as a passenger with them, I ended up in a nearly broken down minibus with two elderly women and a sewing machine.

The two women were related to the driver and none of them spoke any English. Luckily, the note and cell phone (used to call Barb for directions to her house) helped me actually reach my final destination before nightfall. The women and I tried conversing in Khmer a bit but I only know enough for basic introductions and market use, then some random words from my students. They were both originally from Ratanakiri and happy to hear I was teaching up there. They told me how many children they each had and where they lived now, that they didn't have a farm but were seamstresses and their names and ages. I explained my family and background information to them also, and randomly asked what something we were passing by was. Halfway to Prey Veng they became impatient since the sun was setting and got a Moto back to their house.

Then I was alone and free to move about the van taking photos of the rice fields, huts surrounded by water and first sunset colors. He stopped a few times for no apparent reason except to yell "O Barang" (O Foreigner) and something about me to whoever would listen! Afer we reached Prey Veng I called Barb to find her house but the driver either didn't listen at all or didn't know his right vs left! He kept shaking his head at me when I tried directing him the way she told me and would always go the other way! Then he stopped twice to yell about the "Barang" to random people outside while I called Barb again. Finally, we reached her house after I had gone on a circular 'tour' of Prey Veng and been introduced to most of the street vendors!

I will add on about my time in Prey Veng soon but am only on a public computer now and don't have too much time.

take it easy

peace

what makes them 'Kalai'? (original 18 June)

2009-07-29T14:10:00.001-07:00

I recently discovered that the word "kalai" in Khmer means "impure", which inevitably led me to question the lifestyle of the three Kalai villages on the lining the road to Veun Sai. I understand that at first someone might assume the Krung here do not live purely as they drink excessive amounts of rice wine at nearly any possible excuse for a 'ceremony'. They are often drinking to ward off spirits or protect themselves from the harm inflicted by a spirit. Their core beliefs are centered in the supernatural world and any mind altering substance holds a different value to them, then simply escaping from reality or enjoying the high. Their is even a plant in the forest (asked for the English word but noone knew it) that can steal your memory of a way back home if you even look at it. Even when they are terribly drunk and trying to give me more glasses of wine, actually they are nearly forcing me to drink it, I view it as less impure than if the same was to occur in the states.

Traditionally alcohol has been a regular aspect of Cambodia's (and other Asian countries) aspect of ceremonies not simply a regular drink with lunch or dinner. They reserve this drink for celebrating weddinds, mourning a death or attempting not to "catch a spirit" after butchering a buffalo. There is a level of respect attached to drinking rice wine with strangers, so their continued offering of drinks is not simply 'peer pressure' but actually a respectful gesture. They were honoring me as a guest inerested in their culture. Preparing a baby chicken egg to eat with the vilage chief and keeping my glass full was their way of thanking me for visiting their farm and attempting to speak their language. My small bits of Krung showed that I was respectful of their culture and grateful of their welcoming gestures.

In thes states, there is a twisted view of alcohol that holds various complications, like the belief that alcoholism is a disease that overpowers freewill. With the first arrival of Europeans to America, people drank mostly liqour as they contracted diseases from the water. Rum was the first recipe discovered to suit settlers in the north but, was soon decided to be unagreeable with the heat of the southern states. So, people in the current state of Tennessee created a form of whiskey to drink in the warmer weather. These liqours were consumed at nearly every meal; it was actually believed that some liqours aided in improving your liver and digestion. People ate quickly as soon as the food appeared to be able to get the best picks and drink more afterwards. Actually, the most common cause of death in New York City was chocking during large group meals at hotels. This habit of speed and overconsumption continues in the American culture where people often try to reach a point of biligerence as quickly as possible. When beer did catch on in the states, it was diluted for easier consumption and drunk like water. Europeans thought Americans had a horrible taste as their beer was a full, rich flavor and drinking held certain ettiquete rules as most daily routines did. They prefered complex wines and beers after meals like an extra course in the meal.

Hence, I believe the Krung are an "kalai" people despite their habits of drinking rice wine, smoking tobacco and beginning to immitate fads from from the Khmer and Thai soaps. Their culture has remained intact with a pure respect for traditions much longer than the American belief in alcoholism. They are just beginning to their 'superstar' obsession as curiosity for satalites and Karaoke grows. Hopefully the modern media won't defile their culture to the level of material overconsumption that America seems to thrive in. I personally think the Krung in these "kalai" vilages are as pure as any Indiegnous person I've met in Cambodia so far.

over view to catch up (original 13 June)

2009-07-29T14:09:00.001-07:00

I am so sorry for not having done much on this site for the last week. I have been busy every night with fellowships, students and dinner with some Vietnamese I met by going to their sweet shop in town last year. Actually, I have spent more time working on a student’s site than my own. He remembered most of what I taught last year and so now we’ve progressed into creating a site about his Indigenous group, the Krung. If you have any free time please go to this link…http://krungindigenous.sampasite.com/…He is using my photos and I have edited most of what is typed but otherwise, it is entirely his own thing! Now I will attempt to catch you up on the events of this past week in a condensed version.

I have begun teaching the Education Director of Ratanakiri Province, Phan Phirun, on Thursdays and Fridays for one hour in between IYDP classes. He mainly needs help with definitions and pronunciation, as he has been practicing English on his own for quite a while. Each time he has something new to ask me though, similar words that confuse him and need to be clarified. My students have told me that his son is an English teacher and at first didn’t understand why he would need help with English; but I explained that pronunciation is best learned from a native speaker.

Last Sunday, I visited one of my student’s churches that was started one year ago by a Khmer from Phnom Penh. The service was more Western then some of the churches led by Western Missionaries that I have visited. My student (Ravy) told me what verses the sermon would be on so that I could follow along a bit, since it would be in Khmer. Afterwards the Minister explained how he began the church and the English classes held during the weekdays. There is also a small collection of books about Missionaries in various countries that he encourages the young people to read.

Then Ravy, Sotha, and myself squeezed onto one Moto and zipped away from the ‘modern’ city towards more remote areas. I was glad to have left the helmet behind since it would only become a mini-sauna in this sweltering heat. The wind felt amazing after sitting in the sweltering church building all morning. Ravy steadily swerved down slim trails on the way towards his brother’s house in O Chum. He was hoping that we could pick up another Moto and not have to squish on one for the longer trip to Kalai however, the other one was out of petrol. Just as I was beginning to really feel the heat again, we hopped back on the Moto to bounce around the dirt roads towards Kalai.

We ended up taking a random stop to visit the waterfall called “starting love on” because, so many couples visit the site on “dates”. A date would be a large group of different “couples” that to anyone else just appears to be friends having a picnic together.

After about 8 kilometers on the dusty main road, we arrived in the center of Kalai and turned down a small side road that led to Sotha’s farm. His parents were at the other farm further away so I didn’t meet them but two of his sisters were there; one with her two children who couldn’t stop staring while we joked around photographing the house. Sotha captured nearly every inch of the house in pictures so that “I would not forget later after leaving”. Really he just saved me the trouble of documenting the area while everybody watches and wonders what this why this foreign girl is so interested in their common belongings. –I, myself, often think it is quite strange that I am snapping photos of their daily routine. I sometimes debate if I am intruding at all or just providing entertainment for the week.- After discovering that Sotha is the eldest in a set of twins, why they hang bamboo creations from long poles in the yard, and making the children laugh with hand puppets I was asked for the English terms of a few items around the house. Of course, I wrote down the Khmer and Krung forms of each word since I am trying to learn more of both languages for my next trip. We took a very steep hill down to some rice fields attempting to find a better view of the landscape but, I just wanted to climb the trees surrounding us. Sotha kept trying to stop me because many people fall out of trees here and are seriously hurt, he actually has a limp because of a tree related accident.

We returned to the center of the village along the main road to visit Ravy’s sister, brother-in-law, nephew and aunt; as well as Sotha’s brother who just happened to be buying rice wine from Ravy’s sister when we arrived. - The villages in this area actually remind me of being in Minnesota surrounded by relatives and a close community of friends nearby. It might be the farm lifestyle that creates this casual network of people who return often, if they happen to venture away from the core a bit. – We didn’t have much time to visit though as I had to teach another class at Anne’s in the afternoon.

After class, I had a dinner appointment with the Vietnamese who have been learning English with me while I learn a few things in their language. I will type more on them later though because, this has become increasingly more interesting.

I had a mostly normal day of classes on Monday, except for starting Mao’s website and teaching one NTFP staff member a few things on PowerPoint. Two more students showed up just as the website was getting somewhere; they were seeing what Mao was doing because he hadn’t come home after computer class two hours ago. We all crowded around my laptop to check emails and add photos to the website. James made some tea for all of us knowing that it would be a while before everyone left. He has been practicing typing a few times a week, after I finish other classes.

Tuesday I accompanied Mao to a village in O Chum where he would be teaching Krung children about their rights. Once a month different IYDP students spend a week teaching about children’s rights, a different village each day. Whenever some of them couldn’t stop staring I’d end up teaching them some hand puppets with little verbal communication. Just before ending the day Mao asked me if I could teach them an American song or game and he would translate for them. They wanted me to say everything in English first though. The easiest thing I could come up with was “Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes” so I sang it for them before going slower a few times with them. After running through it like a drill they were able to sing it slowly with Mao! Then we visited the other Dam in O Chum, which the children were going to swim at. Mao briefly explained the history to me as I photographed the area. As the children gleefully jumped into the dirty reservoir, I heard how Pol Pot used to have truck loads of people dumped in the water to drown. The Vietnamese had built the dam years ago but it wasn’t used for electricity by the Cambodian government until 1993, when the country finally gained Independence from the Khmer Rouge and Vietnam.

I will have to stop here for a bit because my students are returning for another lesson. Hopefully I will get a chance to add on more from this last week before heading out to Kalai again tomorrow.

tricky situation (original 3 June)

2009-07-29T14:08:00.002-07:00

Sadly I had to turn away some of my favorite students this morning. The Director of IYDP has noticed that some of the youth attending my classes are not part of the Indigenous Youth Program, so they are not allowed to attend my classes. I had been under the impression that as long as they were Indigenous and not distracting the other youth, that it was fine for them to attend. Many of the IYDP students brought their friends, since most of the time three share one Moto. Also, there is a house set up by an expat for Indigenous boys to live at, some of whom are my students. However, they of course tell their friends who tell others sometimes and they all attend. I actually only did one announcement and then simply left a note on the board for others to read when they arrived, but decided not to send any of them away as the majority of "new" people got the message and hadn't shown up anyway.

One of the boys who grew up in the same village as one of my best students, is learning quickly but isn't IYDP. His application was denied because he is not within the 7th to 10th grades, but 11th now. Sunday, during our card game he mentioned something about a souvenir but they usually give advice of things I should get so I didn't think much of it. Though, last night just as the computer class was finishing up he gave me a plastic bag that hid a gourd used for storing water! He said it was a souvenir for me and had even written a note to thank me for teaching him. It has some errors but that almost makes me like it even more, so I've decided to have it "plasticized" in the market for safe keeping.

There are also students who came to my classes in October who are not IYDP and have returned for more lessons. They are wonderful and it's crushing to think they must leave simply for being in the 11th or 12th grades of school. I understand if they can afford other lessons and already know English well but, many of them are simple farm kids with no real lessons besides the highschool. The highschool actually just forces memorization but no real learning that can aid them later. So, I will continue to allow them to attend unless it becomes a real problem with wealthy Khmer attending somehow.

has the monsoon season finally stared? (original 1 June)

2009-07-29T14:08:00.001-07:00

All these dark clouds are testing my patience

I'm craving deep water to wade in

Harsh droplets to break upon my skin

The red Earth to cover me in a silky layer

Bring on the mighty winds!

That will further encourage electric streaks across the sky

Lighting up the night; as day

Provoking the thunder until it angrily lashes out

Surround me with a cool breeze as I soak in the dyed liquid

Ironically I scribbled this down just before getting trapped in the rain. I could barely stand the heat during a sweltering lunch break from teaching on Friday, as the entire week was dry. I toyed with the idea of shaving my head again just for relief, but ended up taking a "shower" in the middle of the day as well as at night to cool down. However, Friday night on the way to a village in the O Chum district (about half an hour away on Moto) we couldn't beat the inevitable rain storm. As it had already rained there earlier so the mud was slippery, like ice for the Moto tires, and we hit a couple areas where the road was overflowing with water so I had to get off and walk. About fifteen minutes before we reached the village, the rain hit us hard and we had to go even slower through the rushing waters pushing horizontal to our original direction which was into the wind. Up to that point it had simply been thunder and lightening close enough (at times) to make it seem as if it were 8AM not PM! James was surprised that I was not scared of being hit and almost excited with me in watching the bolts dance around us. I told him it was because in the states it is so rare that lightening causes any harm, I have no reason to develop a fear. Also, it is usually seen very far away branching off around the sky but never hitting the earth and lighting up the road. We were soaked upon arrival but thankfully, the Krung family whose house we were staying at quickly found extra clothes for us to change into and Kromas to dry off with. Today there was another rain storm that cut my Internet class short (as having anything plugged in or even laptops being on presents a danger) but allowed for casual conversation time with my students. We played card games and laughed about random nonsensical things while teaching eachother our native languages.

history seeps the cracked earth (original 27 May)

2009-07-29T14:02:00.001-07:00

Sometimes when I visit the villages my thoughts revert back to the early history of America and more often they are filled with times of the Khmer Rouge. I'll see a white-haired man or woman staring at me and instantly imagine their shock being in my presence during the ordeal. Somehow making it past "Chlops" in the forest and pirates on the rivers to experience their turmoil as well. This happens especially when I see a delapitated building that is somehow still occupied by human beings and their animals, or when the very disadvantaged are spotted. Sometimes it just happens and others I consciously place the current scene in various past times. This may sound crazy to you and it is a bit however; with my head full of stories and facts from past catasrophes I can't help but let my thoughts relate the present to what I know from books. For instance, in this one village the feeling stuck with me during the Moto ride back as it was so "out-dated" at least in the States, but Cambodia is similar to just after the Revolution War period as there are modern "comforts" but things are still stabilizing politically and economically.

James and I visited a Tampuen village that stretched into Government land that was currently not in use. We were told that some of the people now living on this land had lost their own land when the Khmer Rouge were here and others mistakenly sold too much at the first sight of money from city-dwellers. Now they all work on nearby plantations and live on the government land. One of these houses appeared to be more professional than the others and James decided it was the Office building for the plantations. After speaking with nearly every house in the village though, we were curious to know what was down the hill in this more stable structure. A young girl told us that a blind woman lived in the old-office with her two sons, although she was not married. Men had raped her multiple times and so she has two children now. After the first child though, her younger sister's husband died and now she took care of the children and elder sister.

We quickly scrambled down the hill to discover her situation and James carefully knocked before pushing open the door slightly. It seemed to open for us, as the blind woman was opening it while croutched on the floor. One child had tear streaked eyes and couldn't stop staring at me so, I began making interesting hand gestures learned in Elementary School. James spoke with the younger sister who was cooking and trying to keep the younger child still. The floor had more than a layer of dirt that was covering the younger child and blind woman who seemed to move in a frog position around the small room. She had a "kroma" wrapped around her waist but nothing more to shield her skin from the bugs and dirt swirling about as the chidlren ran around the room. As they spoke a little Khmer and no English but mainly Tampuen, James was the only one able to verbally communicate with them. I entertained the children while wondering if the blind woman even knew I was there. I croutched down next to her and debated photographing the entire scene. She looked my direction and seemed to sense someone or thing being present. I shifted my weight as she moved her hands on the door, turning her head towards James. I decided against the photos believing it may have left them feeling embarassed like I was simply a tourist viewing the local attraction.

My thoughts drifted back to the Khmer Rouge communes and this woman barely surviving except for entertaining the young males. Soon I was comparing early America and Europe to current Cambodian villages. I know that England was nearly worse than many "red light" areas of Thailand, Amsterdam, Russia and Viet Nam; also early America was not the sterile, pure image taught so often in the public school system. It was a much harsher climate that only tough women could survive in, or be very protected against the crude men who were mainly drunk most of the day. Anyway, before I begin rambling about the social history of America stemming from the lower class of Europe; I shall conclude on a brighter note.

After returning to Ban Lung, James spread the word of this woman's situation to friends and family while I collected some donations from the few people I know here. He ended up with a large bag of noodles, cans of sardines in tomato sauce, medicines, clothes and some food in the market (all of this was only $8 total). I collected some too and added it to the funds for rices and vegetables James purchased before visiting her again. This is one place I feel very safe but still know thefts are common so, I suggested that he do not let anyone else in the village know about what he is doing on his visit. He hadn't even thought of bringing the things hidden in backpack, since he was so exstatic to help these women and children. He did agree though that they might be stolen or put both women at risks of being harmed by the men, again. I did not accompany him on this second visit, as foreigners are already considered to be very rich and the donations might be viewed as an insulting "hand-out" or re-enforce stereotypes even more.

Well, I am exhausted from teaching in this sweltering heat and must plan a lesson for tomorrow still.

peace and love

course schedules...(original 23 May)

2009-07-29T14:01:00.004-07:00

The chaos has begun and my days of relaxing at Yaek Laom or simply strolling through villages must end. The day began calmly, of course it usually does as a ruse to wake me before twisting events around my poor sleepy mind. Okay so I am exagerating a bit, however I wish there was more warning to busy days. It was still a wonderful day full of familiar faces explaining news from the past months. Even though I lost track of time reading while heating water for coffee, I made it to the meeting only a few minutes late because James showed up on his Moto just as I was locking the gate! He rushed me up to the office where the students were already seated in front of an overused white-board discussing the upcoming month. I was hoping they might begin later since hardly anything begins on time here but, I was more than ten minutes late so they could have still started after the agreed upon time of 8AM.

I tried to enter quietly but everyone still turned to see who was coming and there were many waves, smiles and salutations exclaimed as I sat towards the back. Although many of the students called out for me to sit near them I didn't want to creep around the bodies already situated on the mats. One girl actually ended up moving back to speak with me as they finished discussing plans for Non-Formal Education in the surrounding vilages. She was one I came to know very well during my last visit, as she attended nearly every session and used every opportunity to converse with me in our "free-time". Before I knew it they were ready to discuss a schedule for the classes I will teach and what should be covered in them.

This planning period was completely different than last time as it was organized and things were discussed in a linear manner. We actually used the white board to write possible subjects and times before creating a concete plan. Last time we just taped up a piece of butcher-paper with subjects down one side, then added times randomly as the students crowded around trying to fit their names onto the paper also! This structured method took much longer though. We breaked for fruit and water after deciding on a plan for the English classes but, before even touching on the classes for anything computer related which is the majority of what they want to learn. When everyone just began to come alive, again, they were called back to sit for a few more hours and finalize the schedule for classes involving Microsoft Office, Photoshop, Moviemaker, and anything relating to the Internet.

I returned to the house sweating from the afternoon heat and took a quick "shower", actually just splashing water on myself, before finally eating and sipping a cup of fresh coffee. Really the day wasn't to hectic, it was simply draining because of the new system of meetings with IYDP and walking back in the sweltering heat. I decided to skip the market and read for the last couple hours of daylight, which turned out to be a good decision as it began raining just as I finished "showering". I will visit the market tomorrow after teaching a few students things on the Internet, just after breakfast if I get a chance for that since everyone wakes up early here to use every bit of daylight. Then I will escape for a trip to a vilage in the O Chum district with James before hopefully getting the chance to read before teaching again.

Must add that the "rainy season" here is fantastic! It remains relatively warm but not as stifling since the rain usually comes with strong gusts. Last night my internet time was cut short because of lightening but I stayed up reading as the wind wrapped around me, shaking the house and whiping rain drops across the deck. It definitely beats the harsh rain of Seattle, not that I don't love that as well since Seattle is as many know my core base. However, this rain awakens the spirit and makes me want to dance gracefully on my tip-toes not crazily jump about in puddles like Seattle rain. Maybe it's not the rain so much as other cultural factors adding to my varied reaction...hmmmm. Well, take it easy and keep in touch when you can.

Barang (foreinger) at Yaek Laom (original 21 May)

2009-07-29T14:01:00.003-07:00

Of course, just when I have a chance to sit and explain a few things from the day the rain begins with a few flashes of lightening. Sorry, I will just leave you with a tidbit that kept crossing my mind a the lake today.

Cambodian buy every product possible to make their skin white whereas Americans purchase whatever they can to become darker. In Cambodia light skin is considered a sign of being elite and not having to toil in the fields. Only farmers have darker skin as they are exposed to the sun daily for long stretches of time. Interesting how they seem to be a bit more blunt with the obvious class difference that America also experiences but becomes flustered with insecurities of revealing too much. What is too much though? When we are all a part of the same society and all take part in creating a culture; wouldn't we rather be honest to change anything we disagreed with? Or shall we just let things stew and appear at awkward moments such as, rubbing on tanning oil on a dock surrounded by Khmer rubbing on whitening powder?

fluid ripples (original 20 May)

2009-07-29T14:01:00.001-07:00

calmly sifting

through ideas, plans

minnows drift across my skin

settle on a crease

for a short moment

I begin to sink

immersed in smooth notions

slight kicks disturb the peace

bring air to my lungs

crack the lid

additional comparisons form

Khmer time slips unnoticed

as only a leaf floating down

causing slight ripples

no drastic changes on the surface

tradition goes as before

the depths conceal secret pasts

no need to plunge any further

simply continue living

with a few advances

Western time is meticulously kept

quickly passing one deadline

simultaneously creating another

as if trying to skip a rock

while scanning the beach again

already having pocketed two more

yet this new one might be better

the first is simply tossed in

crashing through layers of algae

confusing the entire ecosystem

but holding the belief

it will all settle better in the end

bright rays disturb my rest

instinctively shock my limbs

as if an alarm clock sounded

toppling me over

like a curved log

splashing

into any tiny creatures below

rushing off

to the next appointment

twenty minutes past

the agreed upon time

keeping with the Khmer system

striped snakes, moon cakes and spider hearts (original 16 May)

2009-07-29T14:00:00.001-07:00

I am so sorry for skipping out on updating everyone on the last two days. I did warn everyone that this might happen depending on internet service, power outages and visits to villages. I hadn’t expected things to occur so soon but was excited to get out and about already. NTFP hasn’t been able to meet with me and plan class schedules as they were on holiday most of the week, so I’ve been recuperating from finals.

Wednesday night I visited a literacy class in the O Chum District with a missionary from Chicago and a teacher from Phnom Penh, originally Switzerland, who is debating moving up here. After a quick dinner we rode out to the village over bumpy dirt roads almost as lively as the conversations within the car. Ester, the woman visiting from Phnom Penh, shot off questions nearly quicker then Kreg, the missionary, could respond. I mostly sat and soaked in the stories of Cambodia ten years ago but at times explained the situation further north along the river; at least how it was last time I was here. We reached the village just as the sun had completely disappeared and single bulbs glowed in random huts. A few crowds were gathered around TVs probably watching Thai soup-operas or karaoke. We parked in the center of the village which soon became covered by a herd of cows. There were only two classes because something was wrong with the center classrooms light. After learning more details of the tribe and development work, as well as invading their hushed auras with bright camera flashes. I actually kept mine off because I always feel guilty blinding and shocking their shy stares full of curiosity and enthusiasm. After exploring the vilage by the moon light we wove past the cows and out to the bumpy dirt. We passed by graves and Cashew plantations while discussing the possibility of mixing development work and evangelism which is difficult up here. Most people do one or the other and are warned to remain focused on their specific project. Ester began asking about dangerous wild animals in the area, many of which have retreated to the National Park in the Mountains, but there have been random sitings of Tigers and larger Lizards and Pythons. Just as I finished explaining my problem with snakes Kreg exclaimed we just passed one and asked if we should go back. He had run over it's tail and decided to "finish it off" since it was a striped poisonous type. For some reason we were all silent as he went over it again, slight 'uhs' came out after the pop was heard, yet he still backed over it again. Somehow it kept darting the tire to preserve its head so after one last POP we left it for the villagers. I tried not to think about it while walking through Anne's yard to the front door with a tiny flashlight to light a spot ahead.

Thursday night I went to a youth Bible study at the church in Ban Lung with Anne’s “housekeeper” and previous gardener. They both, Dina and James, attend the church regularly and recently a youth fellowship has begun; tonight there were five not including me. James brought up a few verses and then everyone discussed them. One of the young men translated for me and I sketched an image of my interpretation. Sketches are easier to understand without words and each person can take away their own idea of what the inspiration behind the image is. Although it turned out a bit odd, even for my tastes, they enjoyed how it conveyed the message. For anyone curious, I will post the image and passages relating to it soon. We didn't get back until after ten and were exhausted from a long day in the heat. Time is no issue to people up here which is sometimes wonderful as I don't really understand all the rush back in the states but, often annoying when everyone shows up to me class an hour "late".

Today I finally met with the Director of the Program I will teach at. We discussed my contract and class schedule but decided to wait on planning things until speaking with the students. Tomorrow some might show up for computer lessons before going to Yaek Laom, a larger lake without leeches that Towel has, and swimming with James. I also visited this Vietnamese sweet shop in town for lunch. The owner, Kim, is very talkative but strangely left me alone for a bit when she saw I had a book out. Though after I had been there an hour of sipping tea and eating a moon cake, she sat down by me while preparing jackfruit (tastes like a banana but looks sort of like a durian) for a pastry. We chatted and she invited me to lunch on Sunday to meet her neices who also work at the shop sometimes but have families in Viet Nam.

nearly 24 hours of rain (original 13 May)

2009-07-29T13:59:00.002-07:00

Watching the mist settle in the lush foliage surrounding me, my thoughts drift off to rainy days in Seattle. I have found myself comparing the areas quite often and in this case it simply involves rain and the outlook of it from the different cultures. Even the rhythm in which the rain falls seems different here than in Seattle. It varies between a thick and heavy rain that falls fast and hard, to a soft and slow mist that almost just sits in the grey. It has spunk in the way it splats onto thatched roofs whereas Seattle rain seems to hit the cement hyped up on as much caffeine as the population around it. This rain reminds me of Midwest rain and sliding across wide lawns in Southern Minnesota.

The people even react differently to this rain as it seems to be such an integral part of their culture; partially because “the rainy season” makes up half of their year. The farmers rest with the assurance that their crops will not wither in the coming months. The children attempt playing in puddles that happen to sit in the middle of the road, but are quickly dragged away by frustrated mothers. The younger ones take off all their clothes and lay in the muck outside. Others take advantage of the free and CLEAN shower that does not require a small bucket to splash water across ones back.

Many people consider Seattle rain to be quite dreary however; I disagree and love to curl up with a book and coffee on rainy days. Statistics seem to place blame on Seattle’s rain for high suicide rates and many theorists exhaust the lists of effects brought on by this grey weather. Some people believe in Seasonal Depression and purchase UV lights to remain content, even happy sometimes, during the grey stretches of the year. I don’t mean to offend anyone with my musings on this topic but it has been bouncing around my mind all day. I have settled on a few ideas behind Seasonal Depression that are much more complex than simply lacking the sunlight. Some of them warrant further discussion at a later date but until then let your mind wonder and begin its own discussions.

First of all, this modern world has removed people from most cultural and religious traditions and connections between people, their senses, and most natural elements. Sadly this has left many people even more fragile and suspicious of change. This presents an odd paradigm though because a lot of people crave change and intentionally create new experiences, events and tasks in life. Yet at the same time, if an unexpected change occurs they are shocked and lose stability for a few moments. This could be one cause leading into Seasonal Depression; the drastic changes proving no option for human control. Another aspect of this cause could be the lack f stability and control in their daily lives before adding weather to the equation.

Also, the majority of people affected by Seasonal Depression lead semi- to very detached lives. Social involvement increases a person’s dopamine production therefore increasing their potentially happy attitude. When this is not occurring a UV light can provide an extra amount of Vitamin E to boosts their mood and make up for the loss of dopamine. The same situation is possible when a person experiences a lack of Vitamin B-12 in their diet, their mood decreases quickly. If they are exposed to sunlight or electronically created UV rays they can remain stable enough without B-12 until it is available.

One worry brought to mind by this notion of Seasonal Depression is that these people do not understand how to gain a true and constant happiness. They are seeking satisfaction that will only be temporary through false sunlight but, they would not require any UV rays to benefit their mood if they knew the real truth behind happiness. Granted this requires further discussion; since each person holds their own personal truth and must discover what that is.

The modern world has conjured up many replacements for this attainable truth because many lack trust in things that are physically present so it is even harder to open up to an “invisible force”. Many in the modern world dismiss this notion of believing and having faith in something unworldly as lunacy. However, isn’t getting happiness from a lamp just as crazy?

breath too much anyway...can do that anyday (original 12 May)

2009-07-29T13:59:00.001-07:00

After meeting up with some girls visiting for the first time in three years since their parents were last missionaries here; I ventured around the market and picked up some vegetables so I will not have to remain on this rice and noodle diet. We then ate lunch where they are staying and went over to another missionary's house for a bike ride.

I was hit with a realization (again as it happened last time as well) of just how detached these missionay children are from the modern world. Not that this is always a negative thing as they are not tarnished by some harsh aspects presented mainly by the media. However, they are a few years behind children born and raised in the modern world. Which presents even less equal ground for us to relate on. For example, one of their mother's had a joke about Tom Selek and I was the only one around (at the time) besides her that knew who he was!

It does erk me though that since I am at such an in between age for the population of NGOs and missionaries here, I often get stuck in awkward positions. The adults commonly try to place me with their children and provide opportunities for us to bond yet, I end up in most of the adults conversations. This is mostly just a problem with the missionaries as they are the only ones with children out of the foreigners in Ban Lung. It doesn't bother me too much since they are all very kind and helpful with anything I may need while Anne is away.

There are other times though, such as at the weekly Fellowship when I usually bounce around small talk and end up sipping tea observing. Also, on nights such as this very one. Yesterday the neighbor told me she would like me to meet a couple girls around my age, actually they are much younger in their teens but it must have slipped her mind, and we could arrange a sleepover. Then today I discover it is actually ALL of the missionary children coming over and this event was planned a week ago knowing that I would be here in Anne's house alone. It is very sweet they are trying to keep me company and make sure I am not lonely during my stay. However, it is a bit like a "backhanded compliment" in the sense that everything was organized and prepared around me...they simply needed my consent to use Anne's house for the night.

I am actually typing this while the young boys are crowded around a small portable DVD player watching Macgyver and the young girls are taking turns showering next door (they have hot water and Anne doesn't). The mother of two of the boys is setting up mosquito nets despite my comments that we can figure it out and I am grateful for all she has done already. She helped us girls prepare dinner next door and gave us a "cooking class". Which reminds me of just how gender seperate these families are and how eccentric I seem to them. Some of the fathers' actually look worried when I am explaining my hopes of traveling to more places ALONE and having no immediate need for a man's aid in these ventures.

Well, I must help this mother set up other beds for the children I am watching tonight. peace.

single serving friends (original 11 May)

2009-07-29T13:58:00.000-07:00

One of the things I love about traveling is the chances to meet people I wouldn't otherwise. Not only do we often find many similarities in our short time together but we are both more honest then usuall. Somehow we trust the other instantly and explain nearly our entire life story before parting ways. It is as if the knowledge that we will never see eachother again provides safe grounds for disclosing intimate details. knowing there is a shorter time limit to include all the juicy details may partially motivate the speed in getting to know eachother.

While waiting for my flight to Taipei at the SeaTac airport I met a group of people from Wenatchee traveling to Bangkok for their annual check-up on English teachers affiliated with their program. Three of them were around my age and on their first trip to this area, all excited to enter such an exotic country. I felt a tad guilty when they looked down after hearing how Western Thailand is now. Although, I myself have not visited there but merely heard stories from others in SE Asia. My traveling honesty did express that my negative thoughts on tourism and Western influence spreading throughout SE Asia and other semi-remote regions.

On the flight I sat next to a Vietnamese man who has been studying Architecture in Texas and will be visitng his family. We compared Vietnam and Cambodia but decided we shouldn't take eachother word and each must visit the other country.

During the layover in Taipei, after checking my email at their complimentary station, I conversed with a Cambodian girl who has been living in the Seattle/Renton area for six years. She lent me her IPOD after spending a few hours chatting about how differently we are treated in Cambodia simply for being "from the West". They even charge her more than local Khmer because they believe she can afford it more, which by her very American pop-culture appearance it makes sense. We parted ways on the airplane but exchanged numbers for meeting upon returning to the states.

My seat was by a Khmer who had been living in the California for over twenty years. He escaped from the Khmer Rouge at the peak of his soccer career, but became a Christian and soccer coach in the states. Now he is returning to Phnom Penh to begin a soccer ministry with youth in the city. He has had difficulties since he never received a college degree but is well versed in theology and soccer. He will remain in Phnom Penh for one year before returning to gain further support.

On the bus trip (16 people in a minivan) from Phnom Penh to Ban Lung I met a woman from California visiting relatives in the city. She was traveling to Ratanakiri with her nephew and his sons to purchase a Rubber Tree Plantation. I can only guess her age and what she has experienced with her two children on their escape to the states. Her nephew did not speak a word of English but had learned French before the Khmer Rouge took power. One of his sons spoke English very well though, as he had learned it from passengers in his Tuk-Tuk arouHe nd Siem Reap. I ate lunch with them and chatted about the changes Cambodia has gone through in the last thirty years. They seemed to be just as shocked as myself with the current stability in the country. Before parting ways they instructed the bus driver how to find Anne's house and gave Azia gave me her phone number to reach her in California.

I reached Anne's just after six and luckily met up with James, her gardener, who was changing the locks. He caught me up on news things around the house and proised to return and take me to church in the morning.