I've been putting off this post mostly because lately, I've been too scatterbrained to hold a single thought in my head for more than a few seconds. Being back home hasn't been as much of a shock as I was expecting it to be, but now that I've been home for over a week, my new mindset is starting to become quite clear to me.
The past week has mostly been spent babysitting my brother's new Rottweiler puppy and my old dog, Soda. Since I can't really focus on reading or drawing like I normally would, it has been tough finding things to occupy my mind or even time. I think the hardest part has been the feeling that the past nine months were merely a dream. Since my current surroundings are so familiar to me, it feels like I never left.
When I drove my car for the first time it felt like I was 16 again, but within minutes driving felt normal. I learned to live without a lot of the snacks I used to find essential to life, so I haven't been craving certain foods as much as I thought I would. The expectations I set for coming home were so grand and spectacular that when reality set in, I felt and still feel disappointed.
My sense of time is distorted because of the absolute shit weather, but it finally appears to be getting better. Between the cold and all the dead trees I keep feeling like it's November or December. Whenever I text my friends I still operate under the assumption they won't see it for another eight hours.
Playing the drums has probably been my most effective therapy for boredom and the feeling of being lost. Yesterday I learned how to play the beat to Taylor Swift's "Shake it Off." One thing I've noticed is how much friendlier people in Cambodia were. I would constantly smile at strangers and receive one in return, but here I don't dare. People look away as soon as eye contact is made.
My biggest hope is to keep my experience close with me as I continue my journey through life. I'd rather not get sucked back into the hyper-competitiveness and selfishness that I think American culture perpetuates. Don't get me wrong I will always love this country, but I no longer view it as perfect as I once did.
I'm already planning my next overseas journey and I hope to have countless more. When I'm old and decrepit, sipping lemonade in my rocker on the porch, I hope to inspire others to travel the world and open their minds.
Wednesday, April 25, 2018
Saturday, March 10, 2018
Happy Birthday Dave
Awhile back in the month of November, I met who is now my closest friend in Cambodia, Dave. When we found out we were from towns a mere 20 minutes apart, there was an instant connection and within a few weeks we were losing our tarantula-and-scorpion-eating-virginities at Bugs Cafe.
Today is Dave's 60th birthday, and we decided to celebrate last night by going to the first place we met for drinks, a Mexican Place called Maybe Later. While I had no idea what to get him, I decided a cake would be the best gift. I went to the bakery across the street from Joe to Go and picked out a small chocolate cake with HAPPY BIRTHDAY held firmly in place by a creamy layer of frosting. The woman at the counter then said, "Name?" and I proceeded to write down my name on a tiny slip of paper.
When the bakery was finished boxing my cake, I left to retrieve my bicycle which was parked at Joe to Go. A few of the staff members were gathered around my bike, wondering if the cake was possibly for them. Leak, one of the waitresses, looks into the tiny plastic window of the box and asks, "For you?" I then looked into the box as if there was a severed head inside and realized they put MY name on the cake. Turns out the woman wanted the name of the birthday cake recipient. I figured it would be a funny blunder and decided to roll with it.
I tied the cake to the back of my bicycle in bitch black darkness, with nothing but my phone light to illuminate the night. I could see and feel the mosquitoes swarming around, so I quickly fastened the cake to my bike rack with a pillowcase I rolled into a makeshift rope. Once fastened, the cake seemed like it wasn't going to be flung off, but I couldn't help but worry the entire ride that I was going to drop the cake. A cake with the wrong name is funny, but a flattened cake with the wrong name is just depressing.
Luckily I made it to Maybe Later with no issues, and Dave rolled up as I was untying the pillowcase. We sat down and I told him that he would laugh when he saw it, and before we knew it we were engaged in a very interesting conversation with the people sitting next to us; the owner, Will, and a random woman, Lilly, who came for dinner. I would need another blog post to describe Will, as his backstory is extremely complicated yet fascinating. To make a long story short, he came to Cambodia to right his father's wrongs, as his father was stationed in Cambodia during the Vietnam War.
Maybe Later is a restaurant where every employee is an artist, and the point of the operation is to rebuild the art community within Siem Reap. Every inch of the walls are painted with beautiful imagery of skeletons sharing drinks, cactus-es, and other south-of-the-border imagery.
Lilly was a graduate student studying anesthesia, and her humor and frequent cursing provided an energetic dynamic to the conversation. We talked about the hospitals in Cambodia, whether drummers were good in bed, and golf ball sized kidney stones. After she decided to call it a night, I brought out the mislabeled cake.
I explained how I misunderstood the woman at the bakery, and as I expected, Dave and Will thought it was hilarious. Will had a lighter on hand and began lighting the candles, and shouted, "We need birthday singers!!" Dave literally pulled his shirt over his head while we all sung happy birthday, and he wished that no one would ever sing him happy birthday again.
Once the singing was done and candles out, we decided to give each staff member a piece of the cake. All the cooks came out with grins from ear to ear, and I could see the appreciation in their eyes as I handed each one of them a piece of the cake. Will must have expressed his gratitude for what we did a hundred times, as he was beyond thrilled to see his staff sitting together and enjoying some delicious birthday cake.
It gave me a warm fuzzy feeling as well to make so many people happy in one night, and I was more than glad I picked Maybe Later to be our restaurant of choice. One of the artists had me write my name down as he is going to create a graffiti piece for me, and I can't wait to go back and see what he did. It turns out that a cake was the best present I could have given Dave, as it brought an entire restaurant together for the celebration.
Today is Dave's 60th birthday, and we decided to celebrate last night by going to the first place we met for drinks, a Mexican Place called Maybe Later. While I had no idea what to get him, I decided a cake would be the best gift. I went to the bakery across the street from Joe to Go and picked out a small chocolate cake with HAPPY BIRTHDAY held firmly in place by a creamy layer of frosting. The woman at the counter then said, "Name?" and I proceeded to write down my name on a tiny slip of paper.
When the bakery was finished boxing my cake, I left to retrieve my bicycle which was parked at Joe to Go. A few of the staff members were gathered around my bike, wondering if the cake was possibly for them. Leak, one of the waitresses, looks into the tiny plastic window of the box and asks, "For you?" I then looked into the box as if there was a severed head inside and realized they put MY name on the cake. Turns out the woman wanted the name of the birthday cake recipient. I figured it would be a funny blunder and decided to roll with it.
I tied the cake to the back of my bicycle in bitch black darkness, with nothing but my phone light to illuminate the night. I could see and feel the mosquitoes swarming around, so I quickly fastened the cake to my bike rack with a pillowcase I rolled into a makeshift rope. Once fastened, the cake seemed like it wasn't going to be flung off, but I couldn't help but worry the entire ride that I was going to drop the cake. A cake with the wrong name is funny, but a flattened cake with the wrong name is just depressing.
Luckily I made it to Maybe Later with no issues, and Dave rolled up as I was untying the pillowcase. We sat down and I told him that he would laugh when he saw it, and before we knew it we were engaged in a very interesting conversation with the people sitting next to us; the owner, Will, and a random woman, Lilly, who came for dinner. I would need another blog post to describe Will, as his backstory is extremely complicated yet fascinating. To make a long story short, he came to Cambodia to right his father's wrongs, as his father was stationed in Cambodia during the Vietnam War.
Maybe Later is a restaurant where every employee is an artist, and the point of the operation is to rebuild the art community within Siem Reap. Every inch of the walls are painted with beautiful imagery of skeletons sharing drinks, cactus-es, and other south-of-the-border imagery.
Lilly was a graduate student studying anesthesia, and her humor and frequent cursing provided an energetic dynamic to the conversation. We talked about the hospitals in Cambodia, whether drummers were good in bed, and golf ball sized kidney stones. After she decided to call it a night, I brought out the mislabeled cake.
I explained how I misunderstood the woman at the bakery, and as I expected, Dave and Will thought it was hilarious. Will had a lighter on hand and began lighting the candles, and shouted, "We need birthday singers!!" Dave literally pulled his shirt over his head while we all sung happy birthday, and he wished that no one would ever sing him happy birthday again.
Once the singing was done and candles out, we decided to give each staff member a piece of the cake. All the cooks came out with grins from ear to ear, and I could see the appreciation in their eyes as I handed each one of them a piece of the cake. Will must have expressed his gratitude for what we did a hundred times, as he was beyond thrilled to see his staff sitting together and enjoying some delicious birthday cake.
It gave me a warm fuzzy feeling as well to make so many people happy in one night, and I was more than glad I picked Maybe Later to be our restaurant of choice. One of the artists had me write my name down as he is going to create a graffiti piece for me, and I can't wait to go back and see what he did. It turns out that a cake was the best present I could have given Dave, as it brought an entire restaurant together for the celebration.
Wednesday, March 7, 2018
Souvenirs
As a souvenir guy, I usually spend the first part of a trip obsessing over which trinkets and objects will make the best souvenirs to bring home. This obsession with souvenirs is so pronounced in fact, that most of my gifts for family and friends were picked out and purchased within the first month of me being here. Over the course of my adventure, my view of souvenirs has changed quite drastically, but I am sure as hell happy I got the shopping out of the way early.
I've realized the best souvenirs are not the ones you buy in little shops at the night market or on the side of the road, but the items you carry with you every single day. Maybe it's an ID card you hung around your neck at all times, or a journal you've poured your thoughts into day in and day out. Seemingly trivial items that weren't intended to be souvenirs are the best souvenirs out there, and for me, these items will be my most cherished trinkets.
The copy of First They Killed My Father (which I finally started) that I purchased from a land-mine victim, the hilariously adorable drawings of "Teacher Dan," and the trove of videos I shot will all be precious mementos that will transport me back here, whenever I decide to free them from whatever storage bin they will surely end up in.
I must say even with my new take on souvenirs, there is one souvenir that I will always proudly display. And that souvenir is a Royal Selangor Pewter statue of beloved Star Wars villain, Boba Fett. Most of the souvenirs I bought for myself will end up as gifts for others, as I've realized more stuff is the antithesis of happiness. In my opinion, learning to live with less and appreciating one's relationships and surroundings is the key to a happy and fulfilling life.
I've realized the best souvenirs are not the ones you buy in little shops at the night market or on the side of the road, but the items you carry with you every single day. Maybe it's an ID card you hung around your neck at all times, or a journal you've poured your thoughts into day in and day out. Seemingly trivial items that weren't intended to be souvenirs are the best souvenirs out there, and for me, these items will be my most cherished trinkets.
The copy of First They Killed My Father (which I finally started) that I purchased from a land-mine victim, the hilariously adorable drawings of "Teacher Dan," and the trove of videos I shot will all be precious mementos that will transport me back here, whenever I decide to free them from whatever storage bin they will surely end up in.
I must say even with my new take on souvenirs, there is one souvenir that I will always proudly display. And that souvenir is a Royal Selangor Pewter statue of beloved Star Wars villain, Boba Fett. Most of the souvenirs I bought for myself will end up as gifts for others, as I've realized more stuff is the antithesis of happiness. In my opinion, learning to live with less and appreciating one's relationships and surroundings is the key to a happy and fulfilling life.
Friday, February 16, 2018
BioLab
Part of my routine consists of visiting a small co-working space by the name of BioLab. It's a cozy environment in which I read the news, draw, or work on things for TGC. I have now been coming to BioLab for seven months, and I've witnessed the establishment undergo a mountain of changes within a relatively short amount of time.
One of the main walls used to be open, with only a few boards separating customers from the elements. Whenever it rained, everything (including customers) would receive a wet sloppy kiss from Mother Nature. I would sometimes see people frantically scrambling to move their laptops and meals before they met the Cambodian monsoon. All new chairs with cushions now stand in the place of the old unforgiving chairs, which would require you to get up and walk around if you were there for any more than an hour.
The biggest change however was the staff. The entire staff, with the exception of maybe one person and the owner, has changed over twice. Whenever I come to BioLab I almost expect to see a new face, as it seems new staff members come and go on a regular basis. Like myself, there are quite a few other regulars of BioLab, that I usually see whenever I'm there. But they too, have changed.
A tall, thin woman who I presume is European and a slightly heavyset French guy were at BioLab virtually every single time I was during the early days. As of late, whenever I come in for dinner it is a ghost town. With no signs of my European friends. If anything it was a clear indication that I had been here longer than I normally feel I have been, but today something interesting happened.
The French guy, the tall thin woman, and even a former staff member were all here at the same time. It felt like a little BioLab reunion, just as I'm approaching the final months. As I approach April, I am starting to appreciate things that once bothered or aggravated me. I left school this evening just as all the other schools were letting out, and I was caught in a massive traffic jam of little children, cars and motobikes.
Instead of wanting to run down everyone in my path, I wanted the jam to last longer. I admired all the children in their white and blue school uniforms, walking conjointly through all the chaos. I laughed as I raced other motorists within inches of me through the ever-changing maze of people. And I took a moment to appreciate how all of this was unfolding in the orange glow of the Cambodian sunset. I cannot yet tell you what exactly I'll miss about Cambodia when I'm gone, but the free-for-all commutes will surely be on the list.
Monday, February 12, 2018
The Whirlwind
Now that there are only a couple short months left to be spent in Cambodia, the whirlwind of emotions has officially risen over the horizon and is barreling straight for me. Re-acclimating to my life at home, leaving behind the many relationships I have forged, and trying to get past the electronic resume gatekeepers have all been keeping me awake at night as of late. As much as I tell myself to just enjoy the remaining two months I have, I can't help but search for jobs or worry about how that moment will feel walking into my house for the first time in nearly a year.
For most of my life, I have always known what's next to come. When I graduated high school, I knew college was the next step. When I graduated college, I knew I would be traveling to Cambodia. When I leave Cambodia however, I don't know what's next. It is as liberating as it is terrifying. The fact the next chapter has not been written gives me enormous freedom, but as anyone who has ever perused a large menu knows, too many options can be extremely overwhelming.
When people told me this experience would go by fast, I never envisioned it would feel this fast, but now I am beginning to feel as if I have been gone for years. My little brother just adopted a new puppy, and I'm missing out on all the interactions between him and our older dog (whom I miss terribly). By the time I get home he'll be three times bigger than he was in the first videos I saw of him. Major changes like this make me feel like I've been gone longer than I have, and I have to face the fact that life goes on with, or without you.
For most of my life, I have always known what's next to come. When I graduated high school, I knew college was the next step. When I graduated college, I knew I would be traveling to Cambodia. When I leave Cambodia however, I don't know what's next. It is as liberating as it is terrifying. The fact the next chapter has not been written gives me enormous freedom, but as anyone who has ever perused a large menu knows, too many options can be extremely overwhelming.
When people told me this experience would go by fast, I never envisioned it would feel this fast, but now I am beginning to feel as if I have been gone for years. My little brother just adopted a new puppy, and I'm missing out on all the interactions between him and our older dog (whom I miss terribly). By the time I get home he'll be three times bigger than he was in the first videos I saw of him. Major changes like this make me feel like I've been gone longer than I have, and I have to face the fact that life goes on with, or without you.
Sunday, January 28, 2018
Children as Bosses
Six months as an English and art teacher have made me realize something. While I formally answer to the executive director Judy, or Principal Dara, I mostly answer to the kids. As a teacher, my professional bosses are those that manage the school, but I would argue that my true bosses are my students. Without my students, I'm out of a job, much like a celebrity is nothing without his or her fans. The students have the power to turn a class into a power-hour jam packed with learning and fun; or an excruciating hour of headaches and frustration during which the clock seems to be frozen in time.
This dynamic became especially clear to me today when one of the students asked me to sign her name on the social program sign-up sheet, since karate class was about to start. One of the other students noticed I was signing her up, and asked me if I would be joining. After starting my digital art class, I am at the school seven days a week, and was greatly looking forward to the public holiday during which the social program would be held.
Instead of giving her an excuse, I told her the truth that I was planning on using that day for relaxing. Upset, she repeatedly yelled "You don't want to join with us!" as she stormed out the front door. From this little encounter I learned something about children. They don't give a shit about your problems. Not one. They don't care if you're sick. If you're tired. If you work seven days a week or even eight for that matter. Kids lack the experience necessary to understand things from an adult's point of view, and generally lack appreciation.
No matter what Sydney and I do for them, it never feels like enough. The kids don't realize how much work went into acquiring the computers for the digital art lab, so it can be aggravating when they complain about them being a tad slow, or when I catch one of them watching YouTube. The lack of appreciation at times can be difficult, as the kids just want more, more, and more.
As I left the school this morning the last thing I remember was that girl's disappointed eyes looking back at me, trying to figure out why I said I wouldn't be joining on Wednesday. So now I am torn. Do I stay at home and enjoy what will effectively be my last day off until April, or spend it with a bunch of yelling screaming kids I see every single day? Either way, I hope my bosses don't fire me.
This dynamic became especially clear to me today when one of the students asked me to sign her name on the social program sign-up sheet, since karate class was about to start. One of the other students noticed I was signing her up, and asked me if I would be joining. After starting my digital art class, I am at the school seven days a week, and was greatly looking forward to the public holiday during which the social program would be held.
Instead of giving her an excuse, I told her the truth that I was planning on using that day for relaxing. Upset, she repeatedly yelled "You don't want to join with us!" as she stormed out the front door. From this little encounter I learned something about children. They don't give a shit about your problems. Not one. They don't care if you're sick. If you're tired. If you work seven days a week or even eight for that matter. Kids lack the experience necessary to understand things from an adult's point of view, and generally lack appreciation.
No matter what Sydney and I do for them, it never feels like enough. The kids don't realize how much work went into acquiring the computers for the digital art lab, so it can be aggravating when they complain about them being a tad slow, or when I catch one of them watching YouTube. The lack of appreciation at times can be difficult, as the kids just want more, more, and more.
As I left the school this morning the last thing I remember was that girl's disappointed eyes looking back at me, trying to figure out why I said I wouldn't be joining on Wednesday. So now I am torn. Do I stay at home and enjoy what will effectively be my last day off until April, or spend it with a bunch of yelling screaming kids I see every single day? Either way, I hope my bosses don't fire me.
Monday, January 22, 2018
Phsar Leu Market Photos
Catch a glimpse of a real, authentic Cambodian market. Complete with severed pig heads and runaway fish!
https://drive.google.com/open?id=1TaN3LW1EC8Gy1noMls_TEQ8Um2cabStj
https://drive.google.com/open?id=1TaN3LW1EC8Gy1noMls_TEQ8Um2cabStj
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