Photos from South Korea (and some of North)

https://drive.google.com/open?id=17pJtMqrnxUoVZuhQgtYMgS0XmbftjcsZ

What I Learned From Riding my Bike

Ever since I was a kid, I wanted to learn how to ride my bike without holding the handlebars. Whenever I saw another kid riding their bike with no hands, I thought it was the coolest thing in the world, and if I learned, I would be cool too. There was one problem though. Whenever I let go of the handlebars, I would instantly lose my balance, and would latch back on to the bars. Frustrated, I gave up the pursuit and rode around like a normal kid. Looking like a dork who used the handlebars.

Fast forward to now, and I can ride a bike with no hands. I even have the ability to take turns without holding anything. I feel like I am one with my bicycle, and only through practice was I able to learn how. I would let go of my handlebars for one second. Reset. Another second. Reset. Next time two seconds. Reset. Until I was riding down the street and able to reset when I wanted to.

This experience taught me a little something about persistence, and the widely known idiom, "practice makes perfect." As a child I was never very persistent. I would give up if the task did not come naturally to me, but I have learned that anything worthwhile takes time and effort to master. In this case, it was riding a bike with no hands. I've learned that if you want to learn a new skill or talent, all it takes is time and practice, and you will be able to do it.

Walking on my hands, playing the drums, drawing, twirling drumsticks, using Premiere Pro; these are all things I wanted to learn how to do, but the only way to learn them would be to practice. Over and over again. I think it all starts with a mindset. Instead of thinking "this is impossible," or "I'll never be able to do this;" it is better to think in terms of "I may not be able to do this today, or even tomorrow, but eventually I will."

Right now I am working on a video project for TGC, and I need to learn how to use Premiere Pro in order to finish the project. As anyone who has ever used Premiere Pro probably remembers, Premiere is an extremely intimidating and daunting program at first glance. But instead of letting that discourage me, I just think that within a month's time, I'll be using the program like a pro. And the same philosophy can be applied to just about anything. You just need to be willing to invest the time, and effort.

This may all sound obvious but I feel too often we get discouraged by things we don't know how to do. But by the laws of nature the more you do something, the better you will become. We just need to find the will to be persistent in our endeavors, and to keep picking up that guitar or skateboard or whatever else it may be.

On the Short Story Written by My Brain

About a fortnight ago, I had what is now the third installment of a recurring dream. Rather, the theme is recurring, and the content changes ever so slightly with each iteration. In each subsequent chapter, my dream-self is aware the previous dream took place, and the story slowly develops whenever my brain decides to write a new chapter. 

The first chapter started off with a POV shot of me in my Mazda 3, shifting rapidly through the gears as I reflected on how fast my fellowship passed by. When I woke up, it took me a moment to discern my dream from reality, as this dream will soon manifest itself into reality.  

The next chapter was nearly identical, except for the fact I knew I had dreamt the previous car scene. In the second chapter I was fully aware of the fact I had a previous dream about being in my Mazda, reflecting once again how fast my time in Cambodia passed me by. It felt even more realistic as I was at home, thinking to myself the dream had become reality. But alas, I woke up. 

The third (and currently final) chapter in this book of dreams was unique in the sense there was no Mazda; yet I knew of the times I had dreamt about it. I was walking around a surreal, dreamlike version of home, filled with the desire to drive my Mazda and live out the dream I had had what felt like many times before. I'm excited to see what the next chapter will bring, as there is nothing quite like a dream you are sure will come true. 

It is hard to wrap my mind around the fact I am past the halfway mark. In my mental timeline, December is the end of an era, and January will start anew. At the time of this writing it is December 4th...and I still cannot grapple with the fact the fellowship will be over in a few short months. The adjustment period is long over, and there is nothing left but to do as much as we can with the strong footing Sydney and I now have.

I realized that many of the things I abhor about Cambodia, I will miss when I return to the states. Instead of complaining about the communication issues that simply wouldn't happen back home, I laugh. I laugh because they won't be there when I go home. There are many situations which are irritating in the moment, but if you just take a second and think about its impact a week, or even two hours later, you can laugh rather than get upset. If you stub your toe now, a week later you won't even remember it happened. And if you do, you'll most likely get a nice chuckle out of it. 

Black Mirror

If you've never seen the Netflix original series, Black Mirror, I suggest you go and give it a try right now (after reading this blog post of course). Put simply, the show is about the dark side of technology, set in a world not too far from our own. The show gets its name from the black screens of phones and televisions that resemble a mirror when turned off.

One of my goals during the fellowship was to break away from technology, or at the very least, my phone. I have always prided myself with being below average in terms of phone addiction, yet I still fall victim to checking it during inappropriate times. Accessible WiFi and internet cafes have made it extremely easy to keep my device connected, and part of me wished the opposite were true. A recent trip down a YouTube rabbit hole led me to some interesting talks by Simon Sinek, who discussed the problem of modern cellular use in depth.

The attention problem is just as pervasive in Cambodia as it is in America. Whenever I go to a restaurant, I can place a hefty bet that when I look to my right or left, someone is going to be on their phone. The worst is when a group of two, three or even more are all on their phones. It makes you wonder what the point of going out together was in the first place. Cambodia is still playing catch-up in terms of the technological game, but in a matter of a few short years Facebook has already captured the attention of Cambodia's youth. People always seem to be checking their digital selves in the black mirror.

Since arriving in Cambodia, I have been extensively working at improving my artistic abilities. For the past three months, I've made sure to draw, or simply create every single day. For "a small daily task, if it be really daily, will beat the labors of a spasmodic Hercules." - Anthony Trollope. In order to inspire and cultivate creativity for my artistic endeavors, I need to allow for an incubation period, or a period of time for all my thoughts to come together in new and interesting ways. If I am constantly bombarding my brain with new information via a Facebook feed or other digital nonsense, there is no incubation period. There is no creativity.

In describing how his brilliant mind worked, Albert Einstein cited "combinatory play," or the blending of various ideas and disciplines into brand new ideas which were greater than the sum of its parts. This combinatory play however, required an incubation period, an allowance of oneself to be bored for a change, in order to produce meaningful ideas. In today's world we never allow ourselves to be bored, and because of this we lose sight of what's going on right in front of us. We don't give our minds a chance to make sense of the millions of stimuli we encounter on a daily basis.

I have been working on creating a personal logo for myself, and the process has been challenging. I had a breakthrough however, when I decided not to take my phone into the bathroom while I conducted my business. Having nothing to do except think, the idea for a logo I actually liked came to me in the moment, after I stared down at my watch and took a careful look at its intricate design.

This idea of work and creativity brings me to my next point, flow. Flow is the state of mind when you're simply "crushing work." Ideas are coursing through your neural networks, you're typing at 100 words a minute, you're laser focused, this is flow. In other words, you're "in the zone." But whenever we see that little banner pop up or feel the buzz of a new message, our flow is ebbed, and it can be near impossible to get it back on track. A simple solution is to just put the phone away.

As of late I have been extra cautious of my phone usage. I never take it our during meals with others. I leave it behind when the situation doesn't call for it. And I allow myself time to be bored. I look out into the world and see what is happening right in front of me. I believe the issue of phone addiction is deeper than just addiction.

In our digital world we have an unwritten social rule that you need to respond immediately to everything, which keeps us shackled to our devices. More and more people are answering emails off the clock and are distracting themselves from real-life conversations with digital ones. The world is simultaneously more connected than it has ever been, and more divided than it has ever been.

So this Thanksgiving, put those phones away, and talk to the people around you. Don't worry about that email or text message, it can wait. The people surrounding you on Thanksgiving are the only ones that truly matter. Take it from someone who is 8,000 miles away from the people who truly matter.

Tarantulas and To-do Lists

While I was still at home preparing to be shipped off to Siem Reap, I loved telling people that I was going to try a fried tarantula; a sick twisted idea to most Americans, but a delicacy to most Cambodians. Something about those disgusted reactions made me feel all tingly inside because I was willing to try something they weren't. I've played the scenario over and over again in my head. I see the crispy eight-legged creature and think, "oh that's gross," and then immediately dive right into that juicy thorax. But holy shit, actually seeing this "delicacy" in person is far more intimidating than I ever could have imagined. I have never been so afraid to put something edible into my mouth. And I use the term "edible" lightly.

I recently mentioned how I met another American, from Saratoga nonetheless, and he would be accompanying me on my other-worldly dining experience. We went to the Bugs Cafe, a semi-famous restaurant that serves tarantulas, scorpions, water bugs, crickets, and even bee larvae. For the first time in my life, I was actually nervous to try the restaurant's food. It took awhile to decide what to order (it all sounded so good...), but eventually we both settled on a fried tarantula and scorpion.

For what seemed like an eternity, we waited while our specimens were prepared in the kitchen only feet behind us. I could see the glow of the flames on the wall in front of me and could hear the sizzling and searing of different creatures. Part of me wanted to get it over with, while another part of me wanted to savor the moment. When our meals finally came out, the task ahead suddenly seemed much more difficult than the scenario I had played on repeat in my head.

We just stared at our plates. I'm not sure what we were waiting for, maybe a reason not to eat what was in front of us, so we welcomed the owner's offer to explain exactly what we had gotten ourselves into. With a sophisticated French accent, the owner explained how all the poisonous parts were removed (only 2 people have died), and which parts of the arachnids were the best, and worst. Once we competed our crash course, there was nothing standing between us and our plates.

For whatever reason, I decided to go with the scorpion first. I thought the tarantula was more intimidating, so I thought the scorpion would be a nice warm-up. I started by tearing off one of its pincers, and chomped down with some onion to provide a sense of comfort. The pincer was the crunchiest thing I had ever eaten, and it sorta felt like I was eating a hollow M&M that just wouldn't break. Once the pincers were finished (luckily there were only two), I moved on to the body. The scorpion's exoskeleton gave me another crunchy experience, but not nearly as crunchy as the pincers. I tried my best not to look inside, but I couldn't help myself.

The crunchy exterior was home to a stringy brown paste, and it tasted just as good as it looked. I cannot describe how it tasted, as there is nothing I can compare it to, but I imagine it was my first taste of something "gamey." As I was finishing the scorpion I could not wait until it was gone, and upon finishing I took a big swig of my beer while trying to keep it all down. I was now halfway done with my meal, and I had saved the "best" for last. In a lot of ways the scorpion resembles the first half of my fellowship. Extremely hard, gross, and in some ways I am joyous it is over.

The tarantula was in the form of a "donut," so it was covered in a light brown coating, slightly abstracting what was lurking underneath the comforting fried exterior. Eight long legs served as a gentle reminder that this was in fact a tarantula, and that is where I chose to begin. The legs weren't much of a challenge, as they were thin and didn't provide a great deal of flavor. The body was described as being similar to crab meat by our French host, and I was looking forward to giving it a try. I bit down on the body, taking the whole thing in one bite, and I was pleasantly surprised. It actually did resemble crab meat. The thorax was where I was really nervous, as this was the section of the spider that housed the organs and excrement.

As I watched Dave devour his thorax first, I took one last pre-thorax swig of beer and quickly ate the most intimidating part of the tarantula. Again, I was pleasantly surprised, as I think my grossness expectations were unrealistically high. We both felt accomplished and cultured as we washed out any remaining arachnid parts from the corners of our mouths, and most importantly we both conquered some pretty strong fears. At this point there is nothing I cannot eat. Balut, snake, scorpion, tarantula; I'm proud to say my once very basic pallet has expanded into territory most are unwilling to explore. The experience also put it into perspective that while one culture may adore a particular custom, another may despise or outright reject it.

After our bugs were finished, I learned more about Dave's experience working in Baghdad, and the inner-workings of US military operations abroad. He talked for hours about the topic, and I intently listened to every word. He later apologized for hijacking the conversation, and I made sure to express my appreciation for his sharing of such an interesting tale, and how the art of listening has been lost in our digital age. Too often is our attention divided between what is sitting right in front of us and some pointless cat meme. Before we parted ways Dave confessed that he missed speaking with an American, and I found this to be particularly relatable. In my four short months of living in Cambodia, I have experienced the same longing to speak with someone with common life experiences and language capabilities.

Too often do I find myself struggling to find the right way to convey an idea, or wondering if the person actually understood what the hell I just said. It has been frustrating at times, hilarious at others, and is always a test of patience. Last night TGC director, Judy, took Sydney and I out to a fancy dinner and for two hours, we felt as though we were back in the US. The atmosphere and decor of the restaurant, as well as our conversation with Judy, were able to transport us back to a land I think about every day. There are many things we take for granted, but I never thought simple communication would be one of them.

My exciting experience with feasting on arachnids made me think about the order in which we complete tasks, and the all-mighty To-Do list. Many people like to save the hardest tasks until the end, while others like to get them out of the way first. I would label myself as a student of both schools of thought. In this instance, I decided to save the hardest task for last, which was the shit-and-organ-filled sac of the tarantula. I could've eaten that first and gotten it over with, but sometimes it's best to build up to something like that. For you thesis students out there however, you might find it best to tackle the longest and most difficult parts first. After the biggest hurdles have been crossed, the rest feels like eating a few measly legs.

Balut (Fertilized Duck Egg) yes, that's an eye

Rest stop fried snake

An ordinary page out of the Bugs Cafe menu

A delicious Tarantula Donut and not-so-delicious Pan-Fried Marinated Scorpion

Banteay Meanchey

Routines can be an excellent way to combat uncertainty and provide a sense of comfort in a new environment. For the past several weeks however, my routine has felt more like a rut than a source of structure. That is why when one of the English teachers asked if I would accompany him to his home village near the Thai border, I couldn’t help but say yes (plus my inner yes man told me to say so).

At times I feel as though I’m not really assimilating with the local culture. My frequent trips to the internet cafe to do work remind me of stereotypical NYC. I’ve been eating at the same restaurants, one of them a Mexican restaurant owned by an expat, and I really haven’t made an effort to explore unknown parts of the city in quite some time. I was excited to see a village far away from Siem Reap, as I was expecting to get a real taste of what it means to live locally.

The journey would be to the Banteay Meanchey Province, entirely by motorbike and about 3 hours each way. It was only about an hour and a half in before my ass was starting to become incredibly sore. Luckily, the beauty of the never-ending horizon in all directions was able to keep my head out of my ass. It was our first road stop where I’d really get to live like a local, and try some rather interesting cuisine that's normally found crawling on the ground. On the side of the highway was this little food stand with a few people seated and enjoying their meals. My first instinct was to peruse the selections, which consisted of fertilized duck eggs, grasshoppers, beetles, and snakes. There wasn’t anything normal to eat here, at least by western standards.

Instead of getting grossed out and refusing to try anything, I was overcome with joy as I’d have the opportunity to try some truly Cambodian cuisine. First up was Balut, or the fertilized duck egg. Before coming to Cambodia, I watched a video of Gordon Ramsay turn down the opportunity to try this delicacy, so I was feeling all high and mighty actually having the balls to try this almost barbaric dish. I cracked open my egg, and there she was. A little baby duck mixed in with the egg white and yolk, creating a gooey and mushy paste of gray and pale yellow. It was by far the most repulsive thing I’d ever seen in my life, but I didn’t just crack an egg open to see what was inside. I dug my spoon in, and pulled out a mouthful of egg innards. The duck's right eyeball looked up at me as I examined my spoonful. I took a deep breath in, and scarfed down the pile of goo on my spoon. To my surprise, it actually tasted like a normal egg, with just a little more pizaz. I was able to finish the entire egg and the only thing I could think of was: what’s next?

Next on the menu was the snake, which frankly wasn’t that exciting. It tasted like watered down chicken. The most disgusting thing I would try would be the beetle, as it’s texture was rather beetley and didn’t have any flavor to compensate for it. After my new palette expansion, we continued on our journey.

For the next few kilometers I’d be fishing beetle parts out of my teeth while undergoing the hypnosis of the Cambodian countryside. Whenever I venture to this region of the country it’s like being sucked into a National Geographic cover. Even today I still can’t believe that this is what my eyes are given the opportunity to see on a regular basis. After many more kilometers of expansive countryside and sore rear ends, we reached our destination, and it met my expectations entirely. No running water, dirt floors, and hammocks dominated as the main piece of furniture. This is what I thought of when I thought of Cambodia.

Our first order of business was to visit the pagoda, where people go to honor their dead. A celebration was happening as part of an annual holiday, and I was excited to see what was going on. As we got closer and closer to the pagoda, my excitement started to wane. The deeper into the village I ventured the stranger the looks became, and the more comfortable people were with shouting “barang” at me. I tried my best to smile and wear my scarlet letter with pride, however this only became more strenuous as time passed. At this point I was convinced I had been the only white person most of these people had ever seen, and I was damn sure I was the only white person in the village.

Every which way I caught people staring at me, talking about me, and pointing at me; with absolutely no regard for how it made me feel. At one point I tried whipping around at someone to make sure they knew I knew what barang meant, but it had been a pointless attempt at trying to make them feel any bit bad. As we walked in and around the pagoda I continued to receive strange looks and increased attention. I was the only barang in the entire complex. At night the pagoda would turn into something that resembled a typical Union College party. Dancing, ear-shattering loud music, and tons of people crammed into one small space was now the atmosphere of the once quite and peaceful pagoda I had seen earlier.

Towards the end of the night I joined Soben and his brother for some chicken heart and drinks. A street vendor pulled out the smallest child table and chairs set I think has ever been fabricated, and we, four grown men, proceeded to sit down and have a meal together. I imagine it was a pretty hilarious sight to see while passing by, but it was nice to relax and take in my surroundings.

It was only 9 o'clock before I was starting to feel sleepy, so we headed back and I was introduced to my bed for the weekend. My “bed” would be a thin blanket sprawled out on a hardwood floor, with a mosquito net draped above. My bony hips prevented me from sleeping on my side, which I always do, so my quality of sleep was that of a Union College student in their tenth week of Winter term. The litter of kittens didn't make matters any better.

Most of the weekend was spent waiting and relaxing, as there were about five young children that needed constant attention as they cried for food and mother's love. In this time I drew in my Batik Boutique sketchbook I made with Sydney and Gillian, and thought about Cambodian hospitality. Whenever you are a guest at someone's home in Cambodia, you are treated like royalty. You are offered the best seat, given as much food as you'd like, and everyone goes out of their way to make sure you don't lift a finger. It's hard to let my hosts do all this work for me, as I am the type who doesn't care for special attention. But I realized that turning down someone's generosity can be extremely offensive, so I complied and took some mental notes.

As I mentioned, the weekend was spent mostly waiting around, and I realized that even when there is no television and the language barrier prevents any sort of meaningful conversation, there is still no reason to be bored. As John Kabat-Zinn once said, "When you pay attention to boredom it gets unbelievably interesting."  And I found this to ring incredibly true. Most of the people in Banteay Meanchey don't have many possessions or gadgets to keep them occupied, but everyone still seems happy and content. Even when there is nothing to do there is always something to do. Whether that is to draw, or simply think. My new environment and interactions have allowed me to think about the world in entirely new ways, and I have discovered a newfound appreciation for the opportunity to simply sit and think like an ancient philosopher, asking questions that may never have a true answer.

One of the more exciting moments of the trip was my trip to the shower one morning. There was no running water and a squatter in place of the toilet, which I had always wanted to try out (everything they say about squatting is true by the way). There were two main sources of water, a large rectangular tub for bathing and one for "flushing" the squatter. You simply keep pouring water into it until all the waste is out of sight. I was brushing my teeth when I was looking at the selection of cleaning products on the edge of the tub. As I picked up one of the bottles to inspect it further, a large black spot quickly scurried up the wall in my periphery. I nearly jumped out of my skin. It was a massive tarantula, and it didn't move the rest of the time I spent in the enclosed washroom, ominously watching my every move. I hurriedly finished brushing my teeth and got the hell out of there, keeping a close lookout each time I had to go back in.

All that waiting around eventually led me to the end of my stay, with all my new country-life experiences fresh in mind. On the three hour trip back I had the chance to simply think about what I had seen and done, and it felt humbling to not only see how people in this region lived, but to experience it as well. One observation I made while we cruised down the highway was that the banks I had seen in different parts of Cambodia all have the same exterior; a towering reflective wall of opaque blue glass, which I believe is symbolic of the lack of transparency in the banking system as a whole.

When I finally returned to my apartment, I could not sit another second on the back of Soben's motorbike. I couldn't wait to lay down in my soft bed and relax for a few moments before I unpacked. I noticed that my apartment had a new look to it that I couldn't quite explain. But then it dawned on me, my short time in the country was enough to change my perspective of my own living situation, which now seemed luxurious and privileged. I cannot help but wonder what my perception of my home back in Stillwater will be after this experience, but I know for sure it will be drastically different than when I had left.

Unfortunately, it often takes a disaster to inspire change or reform, as history has demonstrated with various mass shootings, the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire, and even traffic accidents. The same goes for appreciation. In order to truly appreciate something, you must lose it, and experience what life is like without it. So I encourage you, the next time you feel as though you are unhappy with what you have, imagine if you didn't have it at all.

CollabCamb

At the end of August, which now seems like a distant memory, I attended a meeting hosted by Collaboration Cambodia, an ambitious group of expats and locals that get together to discuss prevalent topics in the NGO community. The past two meetings have centered around the topic of responsible volunteering, encompassing a variety of subtopics including vetting volunteers, voluntourism, and what to do with volunteers once their boots hit the ground. Today we discussed the vetting process, and I was able to offer my insights into the extremely unique manner in which The Global Child acquires its volunteers.

After listening to the representatives from local NGOs speak, I realized that TGC is blessed to have the Minerva Fellowship as a core component if its operation. Many NGOs have to select volunteers based on rigorous, complicated, and frankly uncertain hiring processes that may result in a volunteer whose expectations are widely out of sync with the organization's. With the Minerva Fellowship however, TGC bears none of the burden of selection, as this is handled 100% by Union College. Before news of the next pair of volunteers even reaches TGC, the staff and students know with full confidence they will be receiving near-perfect candidates for the role, thanks to the amazing intuition of Tom McEvoy and the fellowship selection committee. It is this intuition that led to my placement in Cambodia! 

Another unique aspect of the Minerva Fellowship, is that Union College bears all of the volunteers' expenses, which is largely unheard of in the NGO community. I was very excited to share TGC's unique advantage in the volunteer selection process, and when it was time to break out into smaller groups during today's meeting, I found myself impatiently waiting through constant rambling of problems without solutions. I felt as though I had a viable solution, so I wanted to share it before I ran out of time. 

When it came to be my turn to speak, my thoughts barely escaped my mouth before it was time to rejoin into one large group for a summary of what was discussed. But in that short time, I learned my group's moderator is from Saratoga, NY. The power of the common thread is not to be taken lightly, as I felt an instant connection with the moderator and we would later get drinks together with the rest of the meeting organizers, but I will get to that later. 

After my group moderator summarized what we talked about, he made sure to point me out and let everyone know that they could talk to me about TGC and its unique vetting process. As I was about to get another donut (or what seemed to be a donut) from the back of the room,  a woman approached me with questions about Union College and the fellowship. Before I knew it, at least five people were huddled around me, listening in to the insights I had to offer. It felt empowering to share valuable knowledge to people looking for solutions to an extremely complex problem, and I hope I can continue to provide further value in the future. 

After the conference room emptied out, I went to approach my new friend from Saratoga and just like that, a small group of us were headed to a Mexican Restaurant to discuss how the meeting went. This is where I met the main facilitator; a retired principal and teacher from Rochester, NY, who at one point owned a bar in Nicaragua. He taught me about the inefficiencies of the Cambodian trash removal system, a Bier garden that gives you back massages as you're trying to take a piss, and even the inner workings of the prison system. I can't say too much, or else I may end up in one... 

I even met a former Peace Corps volunteer, and was able to talk to her about her experiences living with a host family in Cambodia. I must say the Peace Corps sounds like the Minerva Fellowship on crack. The contract is for 2 years as opposed to 9 months, and the missions are typically much harder and the sense of purpose can sometimes be nonexistent, which can often be the hardest part about such an experience.  I continued to have drinks with the facilitator long after everyone else had left, and he shared stories of someone he knew that was featured on Shark Tank, his maneuvering through the 2008 financial crisis, and even when Quentin Tarantino walked into a restaurant he worked at, entourage in tow. Apparently he's pretty damn tall. 

One of the last things I learned was that the facilitator is a piano player, which naturally led me to mention my drumming prowess. His immediate reaction was to ask me if I wanted a gig, and I expressed both my interest and concern, as I have not honed the ability to play alongside other musicians. That being said, maybe the band will happen after all! 

Identity

For the past couple of months, I have been involved with a photography group comprised of expats and locals that get together and offer critiques, advice, and other insights related to the art of photography. Today was the 6th meeting, and one of the members gave a presentation showing off photos of his pediatric surgical journey in Nigeria, as well as nearly all 50 states. After seeing the great United States through the lens of this professional photographer, I began to miss America more than I have yet. The photos even tugged at the group leader's heartstrings, who expressed he doesn't miss America often. The images of desert landscapes and sunsets reminded me of a land where I felt like I belonged.

You can view his US presentation here:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cRtKBqMQVB0

Many things have changed since I first landed in Cambodia, but there is one thing that will never change; and that is the scarlet letter I feel plastered on my chest; except in this case it is "F" for foreigner, or "O" for outsider, or "B" for barang. As a white American male, I have never truly experienced discrimination. And I must say, it can be extremely frustrating to put it lightly. Weird looks, the feeling that everyone around me is making fun of me for whatever reason, and "special" prices have become the new norm.

There was one instance in which I took a few of my students to the gym, and they all paid ahead of me. $0.50 each. I got up to pay, and the price somehow jumped up to $1. All because of the color of my skin. I'm not saying $0.50 is a big deal, it's not, but it's the principle. While experiences such as this frustrate the absolute fucking hell out of me, they have shown me something that I honestly could not see in America. People think they understand it, but until it happens to you, you don't.

The longer I stay in Cambodia, the longer my hair reaches. I told some friends back home that I would grow it out, so I don't see it getting shorter anytime soon. My long hair has given me something to think about though, and that is identity.

As my hair grows longer, I've been able to see how it looks "naturally." Is this how I was meant to look? Do people see me differently than if I had short hair? Do these perceptions people have of me change the way "I" act? If so, do I even have a choice in what I do? Am I even in control? These are the questions that I ponder as I look in the mirror and slowly see myself becoming a different person. It is surreal to see yourself transform in a meaningful way right before your very eyes.

My hair is not the only way I've been measuring the time I've spent in Cambodia. Time doesn't have to be measured by a ticking clock, hourglass, or the cliche "_____ days to home" scrawled on a white board. Rent bills, toothpaste tubes, flosser bags, books, peanut butter jars stacking up on the kitchen counter, gummy vitamins; these are all metrics which measure the length of time I've been in Cambodia. When I'm done with my first bottle of gummy vitamins, I'll have been here 115 days. And it's almost empty!!

Photo Dump - The Floating Village of Kampong Phluk

https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B_U9DpQYzRfdUVd1NjdPRE5DTUk

1/3

It's hard to believe that I'm already a third of the way through this crazy journey. With summer school over, it is time to make way for the serious shit. Sydney and I just got our fifth iteration of our schedules for the year (and it won't be the last), and we can't help but feel a little overwhelmed. We are required to create course outlines for our classes, and it's a bit surreal planning out how we will spend the rest of our days in Cambodia.

This year we are the guinea pigs for a new English class structure. The English students have been separated into two groups per grade; one advanced and one needing a little extra help. I didn't think we would get past the scheduling phase, as the split added numerous classes and confusion to the already packed schedule. The books didn't arrive for some time either, and we're still waiting on a few. But I have to say, after getting the chance to experience some of my new classes, I think this change will be beneficial for both the students and teachers.

Instead of having a large uncontrollable group of hyperactive kids, I now have extremely small groups of children that are quiet, respectful, and eager to learn. I have the ability to engage in more meaningful discussions and cover more interesting topics. So even with all the confusion and added stress, I am grateful to be the guinea pig.

When I first started teaching, I was a bit worried because of one particular idiosyncrasy of my own mind. Whenever I have something marked on my mental calendar, I unintentionally devote a great deal of mental resources to worrying about the upcoming event, and greatly look forward to crossing it off my to-do list. Fortunately for me, my teaching schedule has challenged this manner of thinking. Sometimes I have one class in the morning, and not another until 4 in the afternoon, forcing me to just go with the flow and not give a damn about it until the time comes.

It is this going with the flow that I have become much better at. Despite the overwhelming nature of the school year at present, I know in a few weeks it will all feel normal again. I just need to give it time. So next time you're stressing, just tell yourself it'll all be okay in the end, and just go with the flow. You'll be surprised where it can take you.

I have always considered myself a "yes man," trying to make everyone happy at the same time. I usually succeeded, but at the cost of my own happiness. While waiting for books to arrive, I decided to show my students Yes Man starring Jim Carey. A film about a real sad sack of a man who learns what the power of yes can do for one's life. Being a yes man myself, when one of the TGC accountants asked if I wanted to go on a boat ride this past weekend, I couldn't help but say yes, and I'm sure as hell happy I did.

The journey started with a trip to pick up a friend, and yet another friend with an alligator farm. I've seen alligators at zoos, where they just mope around and hardly move, but never before have I been able to see so many alligators up close and personal. On top of that, they were extremely active. One of the little ones even snapped at me ferociously from beneath the wire fence. We then made our way to the lake where we would be taking our boat ride, which was the same place Sydney and I had been taken before by one of the English teachers. Except this time, I'd be experiencing it in an entirely different way.

We all piled into a boat which sort of resembled a giant motorized canoe, and set sail for the horizon. Monsoon season has recently begun, and because of all the rain we were floating eye-level with the tops of trees inhabiting the lake. We ventured through a thick patch of vegetation and came out clean on the other side, where we stopped for a little swimming. I was fully clothed so I was hesitant to jump in, but as more and more people jumped into the water, I couldn't help but dive in as well. Clothes and all.

The water was perfect, even slightly hot in some places, as the scorching Cambodian sun beats down on it day in and day out. We piled back into the boat and moved towards the center of the lake. It was so vast that I would have thought I was in the ocean, if it weren't for the occasional patch of trees watching us in the distance. I was worried that I would be the only one who spoke English, however one of the people with us spoke excellent English, and we became friends while floating in the water and talking about each other's pasts.

When it was time to go back, the sun was beginning to set, and the whole ride was spent reflecting about how fortunate I am to have this experience, and that at times it seems too good to be true. I felt like I was in some sort of movie. My eyes were focused on the horizon as water splashed up from the boat and the sunset grew more and more intense as we cruised further and further away. At one point it alligned perfectly with the top of the only mountain in sight, and the clouds resembled a city in the sky (Bespin perhaps?).

Unable to say no, I agreed to having dinner with everyone at my new friend's house, where I was shown a mushroom farm containing thousands of bags of mushrooms from which they grew. The bags were hung from the ceiling and created what seemed like catacombs, except for mushrooms; dimly lit by a few light bulbs in the night air. When it was time to eat, I joined everyone at the table and put my novice chopstick skills to the test, eating whatever was it front of me. I have to say, it was pretty good, however it took three water bottles to wash it down on account of how spicy it was! My lips felt like I kissed the devil.

Before I knew it it was time to go, and I reflected on all the new friends I had made and how grateful I was for saying yes. I'm the type of person who enjoys his alone time, drawing or getting lost in a good book. But in Cambodia, a journey into the unknown is always more fun. And from now on, I won't think twice about saying yes.

Lessons from my Readings

As I have mentioned before, my fellowship in Cambodia has been far more entrepreneurial than I ever thought it would be. I'm working on complex solutions to complex problems, constantly thinking on my feet, building my network from scratch, and using that network to acquire the resources I need to succeed. Furthermore, I have been building some very productive habits that I will carry with me when I return home to Stillwater. Among those habits, I have become an extremely avid reader, and in this post I would like to share a few of the lessons I have learned from the thousands of pages I have read since I arrived here.

1.) The first lesson I would like to share is that smiling may be the most important thing you can do, both for your general well-being, as well as your interactions with people. A wise man by the name of Jamaluddin once told me that I always have a smile on my face, and I have attributed this quality to my success with getting along with pretty much anyone. Even as I pass strangers on the dirt roads of Cambodia, a smile is always well received. It is the "hello" of the universal language. If you want to make that great first impression, your best bet is to smile.

Smiling can even help you when you feel like shit! It may sound crazy, but if you find yourself in a terrible mood, force yourself to smile and you will actually feel better. As the pscyhologist and philosopher William James said, "Action seems to follow feeling, but really action and feeling go together; and by regulating the action, which is under the more direct control of the will, we can indirectly regulate the feeling, which is not." So turn that frown upside-down!

2.) Take interest in other people, genuine interest. Face it, humans are selfish creatures, we all look out for number one, and we love to hear ourselves talk. No matter how unselfish you claim to be, I bet you enjoy that feeling when someone is genuinely interested in that trip you just took or how your day at work went. I know how well this works from experience.

During my freshman year of college, I worked for a brief time as a limousine detailer. And for the record, I worked here for a short time because the job sucked so much it motivated me to look for another, and it resulted in me working for Porsche, so I can't complain too much! I worked here during the time I was taking Hal's Mind of the Entrepreneur class, which had an assignment for which we had to interview an entrepreneur. Since the current president of the limousine company was the original founder, I decided to interview him.

Not only did I complete my assignment, but I unknowingly strengthened my relationship with my boss much faster than with hard work alone. He even brought up the idea of me becoming a driver once I had all my certifications in check (little did I know I'd be driving Porches instead of limos). The moral of the story is, take interest in other people. You will learn a great deal and create lasting relationships as a result.

3.) The third and final lesson I will share today is about arguing. I have always hated it. If you win, you lose, and if you lose, you lose. Doesn't that sound awful? When you argue your point to no end, it may make you feel high and mighty, but surely you have put the other person down, and that doesn't accomplish anything. In fact, you are most certainly worse off than if you had just backed down.

"A man convinced against his will. Is of the same opinion still."

So next time you find yourself in disagreement with someone, follow these tips:
- Don't disregard the disagreement, welcome it: "When two partners always agree, one of them is not necessary." 
- Listen to the other person's point of view, and understand it fully.
- See on which points you can agree.
- Admit when you're wrong.
- Don't take action right away, come back after you have carefully taken into account the other side of the argument.

As the ever-wise Benjamin Franklin said,

"If you argue and rankle and contradict, you may achieve a victory sometimes; but it will be an empty victory because you will never get your opponent's good will."

Trip to Malaysia

For photos of the trip, please see link below:

https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B_U9DpQYzRfdTEQyZUlLMmNhX2M

They say vacations are supposed to be relaxing. The word vacation usually elicits images of sitting on a beach sipping piña coladas, or massages at the spa. My vacation to Malaysia however, was not filled with spa trips, but rather trips to some of the world's most recognizable landmarks. Needless to say, there was a lot of walking.

I would like to start off by thanking Gillian for showing Sydney and I such an amazing time. This country is absolutely breathtaking, and I am sad I am not here longer to experience more of it. Kuala Lumpur in particular is far more developed than Siem Reap, which in a strange way made me feel at home with all the skyscrapers and taxis summoned with that wonderful brick; which seemingly no one has the power to take their eyes off of. I never realized before how many people take pointless photos and videos they will probably never look at again. I cannot begin to tell you how many selfie sticks I saw, being wielded like light sabers by young photography padawans. I am guilty of it as well, but I try to experience life as much as I can through my eyes, and not a screen. The memories will still be there when my phone inevitably shits the bed.

During my Pchum Ben holiday week, I was able to follow one important rule of vacationing: leave work at work. It was nice not having to worry about teaching, and during my travels, I became the student. I learned a little more about me, time, and the consequences of big mistakes.

There is a lasting debate concerning whether time is merely a construct created by us humans. Does it really exist? Or is it something we fabricated to make sure we all know that report has to be finished by 12:00 pm? My time abroad has encouraged me to believe the latter. This week alone perfectly illustrates my entire time as a Minerva Fellow, as well as the entirety of my time at Union. Looking back at this week, it has seemed like an eternity. We have been doing so many new and exciting things that the days couldn't possibly blend together, resulting in a feeling of a never-ending week. With that being said, Monday feels like yesterday somehow, and we constantly check the time exclaiming, "it's ___ o'clock already?!" It's baffling to me how these two perceptions of time can exist simultaneously. On one hand I feel as though I have been away from home forever, but on the other I feel as though I just got here. It's a surreal feeling that can only be explained by the enigmatic nature of the human mind, and its current understanding of time.

(If you want a really good movie about time, check out Arrival with Amy Adams and Jeremy Renner)

When I landed back at the airport in KL from Penang, I actually thought I was in the wrong place, due to the overwhelming feeling of having just been there hours ago, when in reality it had been days.

When Sydney, Gillian and I were making arrangements for our trip, I was less than excited to find out one of the flights was full, and I'd have to fly solo. At the time, I thought, "no big deal, it's only an hour earlier." Little did I know, that couldn't be further from the truth. Fast forward a few weeks, and I was looking at my boarding pass and realized that the time was 05:55. I thought that was strange, as 17:55 should have been the time indicated for a 5:55 PM flight. In realty, where I sometimes take my own vacations from, my flight was at 6:35 am, and I had to catch a 4:15 am taxi to get to the airport in time. Luckily, the nicest woman ever works at the hostel we are staying at and was able to arrange the cab for me, as getting an Uber at 4 in the morning in Penang is close to impossible.

After I thanked her for her trouble over and over again, I sat down and we had an interesting conversation about life. I had expressed my distaste for the traditional Cambodian practice of charging a local price and a "foreigner price," and she was able to put it into perspective for me. Cambodians like to assume foreigners are rich, which is why they charge higher prices for non locals. Since I do not confirm the stereotype, it annoys me that I am always charged a higher than normal price (although it has improved my barter skills). She heard my concerns, and put it to me like this: even though I am not rich financially, I am far richer than most of the people selling to me. I have an education, family, friends, great experiences, good health, an amazing dog, the list goes on. What I failed to realize is that rich does not exclusively pertain to money. Rich can pertain to friendships and other intangible aspects of life, and someone who has millions of dollars but zero friends, really isn't rich at all.

My parents often say they wish they could have given me more, but I'd like to take this chance to say; Mom and Dad, you've given me more than you will ever know. The very words you're reading right now wouldn't exist without you, and I could not be more proud of my upbringing as it as brought me to where I am now, and molded me into the person I am today. Given the chance to change it all, I wouldn't change a thing. We may not have millions of dollars, but we have what some millionaires could only dream of.

After seeing some live music during my last night in Penang, I realized I was a few ringgit short of being able to pay my cab fare. I walked in the middle of the night to the closest ATM to grab some cash; closed. I walked back to the hostel to see if I could borrow some money from Gillian; fresh out. So I pulled up a list of the closest ATMs, and ventured out into the night once more. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't slightly scared during my search. I was cat called by a large group of people in a language I couldn't understand, rats jumped out from random holes left and right, and homeless people were suddenly everywhere.

At one point I walked past a bus station which had turned into what looked like a refugee camp. Not one bench was without the warmth of a cardboard box and tattered drifter. The scene looked like something out of one of my favorite video games, Fallout, which takes place in a post apocalyptic world left behind by nuclear war (apologies if that sounds a little too real at the moment). I stumbled across two ATMs in my search and both were locked behind glass. I tried the next three blips on Google Maps, and all were inside locked buildings. I was starting to become paranoid, checking behind me every 30 seconds and wondering how I was going to pay the cab driver who would arrive in a couple of hours. As I was walking down a deserted sidewalk between two strip malls, I decided it was time to give up. It was time to head back before I was mugged and never to be heard from again.

Like a scene from a movie, I turned around and the only thing I could see were the gleaming red and white lights of CIMB Bank. And I could faintly make out a gray polo in front of one of the ATMs, which meant the bank was open. I excitedly and cautiously made my way over, careful to not get too excited, and as cinema would have it, I made my withdrawal. The lesson learned is that I suck at making travel arrangements, and it really sucks when you fuck them up. But more importantly, sometimes when you stop searching is when you find what you're looking for; and in this instance, I found it instantly. Hopefully next time I'll get it right from the beginning.

While Malaysia was fun, I am physically and mentally exhausted from the cramped plane rides and miles upon miles of walking. It would've taken me forever to detail every account of my trip, so I hope the pictures will help. After all, each one is worth a thousand words. I'm excited to be going home. And for the first time, that home is Siem Reap.

Photo Dump - Pagoda Trip

https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B_U9DpQYzRfdcmlzYVRGUngza1k

The Harbour

I have now been in Siem Reap for two months, and I still find myself escaping my comfort zone on a regular basis. Just last night I went to the Harbour, the restaurant reminiscent of Jack Sparrow I mentioned in my last post. Last night was Wednesday, which meant it was open mic night. Open mic at the Harbour is a long stretch of time, during which anyone can come up on stage and grab one of the various instruments set aside for eager musicians. Some people even bring their own. The best, and truthfully only cello player I have ever seen was rocking out on stage next to guitars, drums, banjos, and keyboards. The sounds of each instrument blended together in an extraordinary symphony of passion and devotion to music. 

My intention was to play the drums, but I wanted to ease my way into it. Being a self-taught drummer, I never learned what a time signature was or even how to hold drumsticks properly. Seeing all these guys who have been playing longer than I've been alive was nothing short of intimidating, but I wasn't going to let that stop me. While waiting for my turn, I noticed someone who strongly resembled Connor McGreggor struggling to string a base guitar in the dark. I offered to hold his phone light for him while he performed guitar surgery, and little did I know this would be the beginning of a very interesting friendship. 

I learned that (I'll call him Connor) had been playing the drums for 21 years, played in a band back in England, and knew how to play a variety of other instruments. I even learned of his run-in with a psychedelic steak. Once the surgery was completed, he got up on stage and jumped right in with a bunch of people he had met only the week before. Being a professional musician, he sounded as if this was his band. After a few songs it was my turn to get on stage, and my decision to ease into it had backfired, as the once empty Harbour was filled to the brim. Never having played with other people, I was skeptical I'd be able to play something that jived with the singer, cello and guitar players. Surely enough, as I started playing the keyboardist kept glancing back at me, giving me a look that I couldn't quite decipher but knew resembled disapproval. The guitar player kept flashing 4 fingers at me, which I didn't know meant, "play a 4/4 time signature!" Apparently, I was playing a 6/4 or a 6/3, whatever that means. I thought I played well for what I was playing, even though it didn't quite fit with what else was going on. 

Feeling discouraged, I got off the stage with shame in my eyes, but also pride for having the guts to get up there with such talented musicians. Connor came over and reassured me that I played well, and that even his drumming wasn't always well received there. His girlfriend joined the conversation and taught me some Khmer (which I should know a lot more of at this point). I had come down with a case of the hiccups and Connor had the instant cure. Before I knew it his fingers were covering my ears and nose and I was being ordered to take the biggest gulp I possibly could. Taken off guard, I took the biggest gulp I possibly could and to my surprise, my hiccups were gone.

I told Connor of my relationship with the recording studio in town and he seemed very intrigued. Intrigued enough in fact, that we're scheduled to jam together at the studio tomorrow. So who knows, maybe that band will happen after all. The only way it will is if I keep leaving that comfort zone. 

Hobbies vs Homesickness

Homesickness is like the tide. At certain parts of the day it blankets the entire beach, leaving no room to relax or wind down. At other times it retreats back into the sea, leaving behind a serene place to work on that golden tan. When you compare high tide to low tide, the difference can be difficult to comprehend. I saw this difference for the first time when a bunch of my college friends got together in Cape Cod for one last hoorah, before we all began our incredible journey into adulthood. Some of us would go to grad school, others law school. Some would travel to different countries, and a few would make the terrifying journey into the unknown. When I compare myself at the beginning of the fellowship to now, even though it has only been 7 weeks, the difference is astonishing.

When I first arrived, a scared little puppy dog I was. I didn't know where to get anything, who anybody was, and everything seemed so foreign and otherworldly to me. I'm still that same puppy dog today, except I'm house broken and understand where my turf begins and where it ends. To combat the homesickness and acclimate to my new environment, I have employed a number of strategies which I believe have worked quite well, at least when the tide is low.

First and foremost, staying in touch with friends and family is essential. It's something that is very easy to do, you just have to put in a little effort. The interesting conversations about scandals in my hometown, eggplants, franken-Jeeps coming to life, new love interests, and even the forensic dissection of bodies as a career path have all been extremely comforting (maybe with the exception of that last one).

Hobbies have been an incredible deterrent of homesickness, even when it's just the pursuit of a hobby and not the actual thing. Ever since freshman year of high school, I have loved to draw. I was fortunate enough to have an art teacher that pushed me, and convinced me that I had a talent for it. But I wasn't always happy with how my drawings came out (I consider myself a fierce perfectionist). Now that I have the discipline to practice every day, I make sure to create at least one sketch to continuously improve my abilities. Whether it's some ridiculous Rick and Morty character or pop culture icon, I absolutely love throwing on some music and getting lost in a graphite-coated page (my left hand also gets a coat).

For a number of years now, I have been an avid drummer, driving my parents and neighbors insane with the crashing of cymbals and thudding of base drums (sorry to anyone who lived in Fox last year). Even though I haven't had a chance to play since arriving in Siem Reap, I have been actively pursuing ways in which I can. I met with the owner of a recording studio in town, and he gave me an in-depth tour of where the magic happens, as well as the equipment and even acoustic design of where the artists play. Needless to say, it was extremely impressive. In the process of the tour I met an Australian who moved here three years ago and hasn't looked back (there's that magical allure of Siem Reap again). I was able to work out a $10/hour deal to play basically whenever I want, as along as they aren't working with a client. Playing the drums has always been my main source of entertainment and stress relief, and I cannot wait to go back and make those drums sing.

I recently learned about the open mic nights at a little restaurant called The Harbour, a pirate themed restaurant that sort of makes you feel like you're at Disney World, at least from the outside. Rather than just allowing random audience members to sing, the Harbour has plenty of instruments for people to play and experiment with. I checked out the place last night, but unfortunately there was already a band tearing it up on stage, and I did not get the chance to play their drums. I hope to get the chance to play at least one of these nights, and who knows, maybe I'll end up forming my own band. If there was one thing to take away from my experience thus far, it's that anything is possible.

Sonder

The other day while eating at one of my usual spots, Tuk Tuk Tacos, I was sitting at a long table while two guys hunkered down at the opposite end. I had just finished a workout and wasn't eager to start a conversation, so I kept to my tacos and ate quietly. As I was getting ready to pay, something compelled me to sit back down. The two men across from me paid their bills, and as they finished the guy closest to me turned and said hello. We introduced ourselves and covered the typical bases of a first conversation in Siem Reap. Where are you from? What are you doing here? Etc. etc.

Turns out he was originally from Canada, and was currently working as a photographer and filmmaker. Long hair, a prosthetic left leg, and a Khmer Kid he was no longer allowed to see, I thought to myself this guy should've been the spokesperson for Dos Equis. We hit it off and continued the discussion at a bar across the street. He showed me some of his photography, and even told me about a Facebook group for local photographers who get together for photo shoots and critique each other's work. While riding home I realized how fortunate I was to meet this guy, all because of an inexplicable hesitation to pay my bill.

A few days after being added to the group, a post was made about a photo walk through the Angkor Night Market. Upon arrival at the meeting point, a rather luxurious theater in which I am hoping to catch the new Star Wars, I met a couple of Americans, John and Ralph, who had been living in Siem Reap for a couple of years now. Ralph turned out to be from Rochester, which is only 3 hours away from my hometown (which now seems minuscule considering my new global frame of reference).

Going out with the sole intention of taking photos was something I had never done before. Being able to walk through the market maze and marvel at its intricacies made me realize there is much more to this city than I will ever be able to see. During the walk I captured a few nice photos, all the while getting to know some amazing people. At the end of the shoot most of us stopped at a pizza joint for dinner and I felt like I was back at Union, eating with all the "boiz" in upper. The only difference being you can feed a party of eight in Siem Reap for $22.

For the rest of the night I forgot about how I was missing everyone back home, that I have 230+ days left, and even how my stomach decided it wasn't fully adjusted to Khmer cuisine at a month in. Great food, great people, and great conversation all converged to give me exactly what I've been searching for, a sense of belonging. Our table resembled something reminiscent of the last supper, with veteran and novice travelers all coming together to share a meal of the classic 'zza.

Hearing the stories of John's heart attack at 34 and Ralph's worldly travels as a respiratory therapist have opened my eyes to how this country attracts could-be Dos Equis spokespeople. Experiences such as this fill me sonder (a feeling for which I have provided the definition as I do not think it could be said any better). I haven't quite discovered what it is that attracts so many amazing people to this country, and even those who have been summoned by its tantalizing allure cannot provide me with a solid answer.

Sonder: "The realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own—populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness—an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you’ll never know existed, in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted window at dusk." -The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows

It's All a Matter of Perspective

Everything is a matter of perspective. The glass is have full; the glass is half empty. Video games cause violence; video games improve spatial abilities. Trump is an awful president; Trump is an awful president. Everything around us is built on perspective, and the above examples demonstrate how people can view the same topic in an entirely different light. This may seem obvious, but rarely do we ever think about how our own perspectives differ from that of others.

For instance, yesterday I was showing some of the students a view of my street in the U.S., and each of them commented on how clean it looked. Now I never really noticed how clean my street looked when I was still at home, however looking at it now, after being in Siem Reap for a month, Center Street looks drastically cleaner by comparison. No heaps of trash. No stray dogs trying to make more stray dogs. And certainly not as many motorbikes. My perspective has changed in such a way that, when I return home, it will look and feel very different from when I left. And that's the best thing about perspectives, they're fluid! 

I just finished Ripples From the Zambezi by Ernesto Sirolli, a book I was supposed to read in my social entrepreneurship class, but you know how college works (I actually have a habit of reading books I was supposed to read in class, after the fact). But anyway, one of the major arguments towards the end of the book concerns education. Millions of children are forced into the same machine, regardless of their individual talents and abilities. We end up with children who fall through the cracks or think school is a waste of time because it doesn't provide enough challenge. While it is important every child learn the basics, once they reach a certain age they should be able to choose their own path. It is exponentially easier to teach a child something they want to learn, than what they have to learn because someone said so. To once again quote the GREATEST BAND TO EVER LIVE, 

"We don't need no education. 

We don't need no thought control. 

No dark sarcasm in the classroom. 

Teacher leave them kids alone. 

Hey! Teacher! Leave them kids alone. 

All in all it's just a-nother brick in the wall. 

All in all you're just a-nother brick in the wall."

- Pink Floyd 

While I don't agree with every word of Sirolli, I do agree with his general message, and I am trying to incorporate his philosophy into my classes. This afternoon I had the youngest students look up whatever video tutorial they wanted, and they would have to transcribe the instructions into English, as I'm supposed to be an English teacher. What ended up happening, however, was a few students were watching drawing tutorials, and I told those students they could draw instead of write. In a matter of minutes we broke out the crayons and markers and every student was following a how-to drawing tutorial. The kids had so much fun they weren't rushing out of class as they usually are, they actually worked on their drawings straight through their next class. This is an excellent example of Sirolli's words in action. From now on I'm going to do my best to incorporate the students' interests into the curriculum, as interest and passion bolster learning like nothing else. 

 

Photo Dump!

https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B_U9DpQYzRfdSzZEOHlYWUNsMk0

On Instant Gratification

If you are someone who needs instant gratification to feel successful, or to know that you've done a good job, teaching probably isn't the best career for you. From my experience teaching thus far, I have noticed some students are always fully engaged and answer questions, while others are doodling or falling asleep or doing something else they shouldn't be doing. It's hard to tell whether the students are actually taking something away from my classes, or if everything I'm saying is going through one ear and right out the other. Most teachers are able to see their efforts come to light only at the end of the school year, as you can compare the students' knowledge now to when they first sat down in your class. But occasionally, teachers are able to see the fruits of their labor make a difference relatively quickly, and I was able to get a taste of that feeling today.

For the past two weeks I have had the pleasure of teaching Grade 12. A small, all girls class that graduated from TGC yesterday. Since I had full reign over their classes, I decided to teach them about the art of interviewing, something all of us have had or will have to do at one point or another. Interviews can be extremely nerve-wracking, especially if you've never had one before, so I wanted to teach the girls how to answer the most common types of interview questions, and some other interviewing tips that are sure to make them stand out.

I went over the classic "Tell me about yourself" question, which can be extremely difficult to answer without any preparation. I also discussed how to answer the greatest strengths/greatest weaknesses question, and even the onerous, "Tell me about a challenge you had at work and how you overcame it." (I think the hardest interview question I was ever asked was for the Minerva Fellowship interview, and the question was, "What is a trait you admire, but do not possess yourself?" I encourage you to answer this one for yourself) As I taught the class I could tell the students were interested. Nobody doodled. Nobody fell asleep. All eyes were on me. The trick to keeping students engaged is to keep the class interesting, and most importantly, relevant. I cannot tell you how many hours I have wasted trying to remember something I forgot moments after the test. That is precious time I could have spent studying a topic I currently use!

I concluded the last interview class by answering any last minute questions, perhaps the most accurate gauge of interest (or confusion), and sure enough there were many to answer. Feeling accomplished I ended the class with the notion that I would always be around to provide further guidance, and this morning I learned that one of the girls had an interview in less than an hour! Nervous, excited, and now prepared, she "passed" her interview with flying colors, as she was offered the job.

I asked her which questions came up, and sure enough two of the big five were employed by her interviewer. I felt extremely proud as I am starting to see the students, not as my own, but rather little siblings. And I couldn't help but think my classes had something to do with her success. Would she have gotten the job without my help? Most likely. The students at TGC are there for a reason, they're extremely unique in all the right ways. But knowing she went into that interview knowing what to expect and more confident as a result, lets me know I've done my job.

Time

"Every year is getting shorter, never seem to find the time. 

Plans that either come to naught, or half a page of scribbled lines..."

-Time, Pink Floyd

This isn't the first time I've quoted "Time" by the ingeniously creative Pink Floyd, and it certainly won't be my last. I've always found time to be a fascinating concept, as there are moments when it seems to crawl like a snail, and other times when you question if something even happened. Because, before you know it, "10 years have got behind you."

That certainly describes my thoughts regarding my time at Union. As a coping mechanism in times of distress or simply boredom, I like to tell myself, "It'll be over before I know it." Not that I wished Union would be over before I knew it, but I also do this whenever something exciting or positive is happening in my life. I can't help but think how fast time will go by. And sure enough, like magic, I'm in that moment where, whatever it is, is over.

I can still vividly remember when I first sat down in Schaffer Library as a freshman. There was a massive painting of a white winter forest to my left, and a few students with their heads buried in books to my right. At the table it was just me, my laptop, my Intro to Economics textbook, and Metallica. I looked up and thought to myself, "before I know it, I'm going to be a graduate, not a student."

And now, looking back, it's as if some magical force snapped its fingers and plopped me into the present. Where I am no longer a student, but a Minerva Fellow of Union College. Already my first month has gone by unbelievably fast. It feels like yesterday that I was unpacking my suitcases. I will never forget that feeling when I made the realization that this would be my life for the next year. I was terrified. Excited, nervous, unsure; it's hard to describe such a strong feeling you've never felt before. But I can tell you I truly know what it feels like to be out of my comfort zone.

Sometimes it still doesn't feel real that I am here. I was walking into the apartment today, and as I opened the door I just thought, "Am I really opening a door to an apartment in Cambodia?" Again, it's difficult to describe such a feeling, but the best description I can give is surreal. During my first month in Siem Reap, I have been telling myself that, "Before I know it, I'll be back home," as every day I long to see my friends and family. Especially my little dog, Soda.

But I must be careful, as time has a funny way of operating. When we want time to fly, it takes the bus. And when we want time to pause, it fast forwards. But surely enough, before I know it, I'll be back in Stillwater, New York. Ready to take on my next adventure.

The Art of the Deal

One thing that I've always wanted to try, and currently suck at, is haggling. I'm the type of person who has to take home a souvenir, and every time I pass a souvenir shop I can't help but ogle at all the odds and ends and little woodcarvings I've seen a million times already. They just don't get old. When I worked at Porsche customers would haggle with the salesmen all the time, and you could tell it got old. In the US, the price on the sticker is what you pay, however in the car business, haggling is excepted, although not always appreciated. I would even have customers try to haggle with me about service! But in Siem Reap, it's fun being on the other side of the coin.

Now traditionally, Cambodians (and really anyone in a developing/tourist region) have been known to inflate prices for foreigners. Sometimes as much as four times what a local would pay. I have read that customer service does not exist in Cambodia, as shopkeepers would rather squeeze as much dough as possible out of a naive tourist once, than retain a satisfied customer. A well known fact in business is that it's cheaper to keep an existing customer than it is to acquire a new one. So why don't more business owners follow this advice? Maybe it's greed, maybe it's the fact the likelihood of seeing that person again are slim to none. Most people in developing countries just assume all Americans are rich.

I walked into a souvenir shop today after giving some English lessons at Joe to Go, and I stumbled into a store just around the corner. I walked in and perused the merchandise, all the same stuff I had seen before. As I got halfway into the store, the sensation someone was following me took over and sure enough, someone was following me. Taking note of my reactions to each item. I eventually came across the perfect gift for my little brother, with a hefty price tag of $56.

With my falconer on my six, I made sure to clearly express my disgust. Hiding my true thoughts of "I gotta have this." The inevitable negotiation was about to start, and I thought of my thesis and the concept of anchoring, a famous heuristic which causes the human mind to fixate on the first piece of information presented in a given situation. Anchoring has particular relevance in negotiating, as the first number exerts an incredible amount of influence on the outcome. Anchoring is just evidence that everything is relative. EVERYTHING. We can't judge something unless we have something to compare it to. For example, this post will seem much shorter if I enter down a bunch of times at the end, as you will see all the white space and make the connection that there is room leftover.

I shot first with an offer of $15 in an attempt to "re-anchor" the negotiation to a price more in my favor. The woman looked at me as if I had ten heads, and that seemed to be that. I put the item down and proceeded to look around some more. She approached me again and lowered her price to $35. I came up to $20. I started walking out the door, explaining I could find the same thing in another shop a stone's throw away, and she lowered once more to $30. I tried to stick to my guns, but came up to $25. She backed down to $28, and I struck the deal.

Even though I still probably overpaid significantly for the item, I felt good about getting 51% off, but I realize this is just anchoring in effect. Seeing an item for $56 and then paying $28 for it makes the transaction feel like a deal, and it's the same mechanism at work when you buy something off Amazon or in the store that has a "***WAS*** [insert dollar amount]" sticker. Regardless, I am happy with my little brother's gift and I look forward to practicing my haggling skills more. Maybe one day I'll be as good a negotiator as Trump, the stupidity of whom the world has never seen before.

The Golden Rule

Every time I talked about going to Siem Reap with someone who had already been here, they always made this remark: "the people there are so nice!" Despite all of the warnings of various scams and corruption that are abundant in Cambodia, I was able to see for myself just how nice people in Siem Reap really are.

I have been frequenting the Angkor Muscle Gym for a couple of weeks now, as I like to stay in shape and going to the gym has helped me deal with the stress of being in a foreign country for the first time, with still 8 months to go. Think for a moment about the sweatiest workout you have ever had. Now multiply that by ten, and then make that every workout. That's what it's like to workout in Siem Reap. Working out at the Angkor Muscle Gym feels like hot yoga but with weights, as the gym offers no salvation from the heat and you're adding vigorous exercise on top of it. It was hard for me to break a sweat at Union's sumptuous, air-conditioned fitness center, but now I break a sweat just walking through the...big opening I guess you would call it. But back to people being nice.

I have begun to recognize the same faces that have the same workout routine as I do, and one of those familiar faces decided to introduce himself to me as he noticed I had been coming to the gym long enough to indicate I was not just some tourist. He had moved to Siem Reap from Phnom Phen just four months ago, so we were in a similar boat. New city. Not that many friends. 

At the end of my workout I told him I was going to Tuk Tuk Tacos for dinner, an amazing taco joint with illustrations of different taxi variations from all around the world. The tacos were amazing as usual, and when it was time to head back, I noticed that for a third time, I had a flat tire. This guy I just met, offered to bring me back on his motorbike and tow my bike along for the ride. 

Knowing all too well how unpleasant it is to ride a bicycle with a flat tire on the cavernous roads of Cambodia, I accepted his offer and we rode back to the apartment. One hand holding on for dear life, one hand clutching onto my bicycle so it didn't veer off and hit some unsuspecting traveler. There were moments when the bike would lean too far and I thought for sure I was going to lose it, but I was able to keep correcting and keep the bike on course. Sometimes coming within an inch of other motorists and pedestrians. My tire turned out to be completely destroyed, so hopefully the replacement will bring with it a period of smooth riding. 

My new friend, Dara, had pals from Phnom Phen that were coming to visit tomorrow, and he invited me to come along for the fun. I told him I would buy him a round as a thank you for the lift home. We parted ways and I received a message from him awhile later expressing his disappointment that his friend came down with a case of food poisoning, but asked if I would still be up for a drink. 

Without a doubt I said yes, and his next question is where the story gets interesting. He asked me if I wanted to see a drag show, which I had never heard of. Was it a drag race? Did it involve drag queens? Turns out the answer was the latter, and my new friend revealed to me that he is gay, with a "hope that will be ok for you" attached. 

For a moment I thought about how sad it is that people feel the need to include these types of asides, and I mean that in the sense that there are countless people who feel victimized based on their sexual orientation, skin color, religious beliefs, or some other thing that truly shouldn't matter. I told him that while I was not, it wasn't a problem for me. I further expressed that I would be open to seeing a drag show, no matter how far out of my comfort zone it may be. The Minerva Fellowship is all about openness to experience, and I honestly cannot think of a better way to exercise this. Go to a drag show with someone you just met that helped you drag (pun intended) your disabled bicycle home. 

At the end of the day, we're just two people who are looking for friends in an unfamiliar place. Rarely do strangers offer to help someone in need that they just met a few moments prior, and I am grateful to have met someone who so perfectly exemplifies The Golden Rule: "Treat others how you want to be treated." 

Crazy Ideas: Are They Really That Crazy?

Today so happens to be Spiderman's birthday, easily my favorite superhero created by Marvel. I was reading an article about our friendly neighborhood Spiderman, and it turns out, Stan Lee's idea for a normal teenage superhero was, at the outset laughed at; Peter Parker was "hardly superhero material." Turns out, Stan Lee was right, and the publisher was dead wrong.

This seems to be a common theme in business, not just comic book characters or entertainment as a whole. Many ideas that are now considered ingenious were originally scoffed at and deemed nonsense. Take for instance, the light bulb, The Pet Rock, the umbrella, even coffee! Nowadays, we couldn't imagine our lives without these items (okay, maybe not the pet rock), but all of these ideas were considered crazy at the time of their conception. Why is this so?

What all of these items have in common is at one point, they were remarkable. Different. Nothing like them had existed before, therefore no one could wrap their heads around the benefit these things could bring. Publishers and CEOs don't know what consumers want. Even the consumers don't know what they want until it's staring them in the face in a red and blue suit. It takes a special kind of person to pursue an idea everyone else wants to criticize, but that's just being an entrepreneur.

Take Citizen Kane for instance, often considered the greatest film of all time. Why? When it was first released it wasn't met with much praise, so why now is it considered to be so great? It was remarkable. Orson Welles used cinematic techniques pretty normal by today's standards, but in 1941 they were anything but. His techniques can now be found in countless films today, but that's only because he was willing to do something different.

So if you have an idea most people think is crazy, chances are you have a great idea. Or, you're just crazy. But why not give it a shot and see for yourself?

The Mantra of Minerva Fellows

During my interview for the Minerva Fellowship, I was asked about my thoughts regarding teaching. To the Director of Minerva Programs, Tom McEvoy's dismay, I said I was not interested in teaching. Something about getting in front of a group of students everyday and "presenting" triggered past anxiety about public speaking mishaps, which fortunately I have since overcome. Fast forward a few weeks to decision time, and I received an email from Tom asking if I would be interested in going to Cambodia, to you guessed it, teach.

It didn't take much convincing because when an opportunity like this is presented to you, you seize it. I knew I would be completely outside of my comfort zone, and my suspicions were correct. Part of the reason I did not want to teach was because I didn't think teaching was entrepreneurial, but that couldn't be further from the truth. Teachers must be adaptable, creative with their lesson plans and activities, organized, persistent, effective leaders, and able to roll with the punches. All of these qualities are paramount if one plans to become a successful entrepreneur, and I am extremely grateful for my placement in Cambodia as I am learning more than I ever thought I would. Between working as a teacher and business consultant for Joe to Go, I am receiving a rather expansive education in the subject of life.

Since landing on the ground in Cambodia, the prestige that is typically associated with being a Minerva Fellow has dissipated. Many apply and few are accepted, but once a fellow is on the ground in his or her respective community, the work to be completed is all that matters. Most of the people Minerva Fellows work with have been through so much more, and have overcome far greater obstacles. Thus, the people we work with are the true inspirations. Lao Tzu said it best in his quote which has become the mantra for Minerva Fellows:

“Go to the people. 

Live with them. 

Learn from them. 

Love them. 

Start with what they know. 

Build with what they have. 

But with the best leaders, 

when the work is done, 

the task accomplished, 

the people will say 

'We have done this ourselves.”

2 Week Mark, Already

Today is the two-week mark and already I have grown pretty accustomed to living in another country 8,692 miles away. They say the human body is remarkable when it comes to adapting to new environments, and while my stomach still has some time to adjust, mentally, I am quite adjusted.

I have my daily routine pretty well established and between the new efforts with the restaurant, Joe to Go, and activities at TGC, my mind is always occupied. When I have free time I usually spend it exploring the city, reading, or catching up on the news back home. Most of the time it seems as if things are more organized here than in Washington. Every day there appears to be some new development in the cluster-fuck that is the White House.

By now I have a pretty good handle on all the ins and outs of living in Siem Reap: turn up the fan speed incrementally or else it will violently fall out of the ceiling, cold showers after sweating out all the water that was formerly in my body, listening to conversations in a language I cannot understand, with body language being the only thing I can understand, geckos on the walls of everything, and narrowly missing motorists every time I hop on my bike. If my bike has a flat tire, I know where to get it fixed. If I need groceries, I know where I can buy them. Life in Siem Reap isn't really life in Siem Reap anymore, it's just life, but there are still times when I think to myself, "am I really here?" While I still miss my friends and family back home, I have come to the realization that I am only an acting Minerva Fellow once, and I need to live every day in Siem Reap as if it were my last.

Being someone who loves souvenirs, I caved and bought my first two souvenirs at two weeks in. Souvenir shops in Siem Reap are like mazes. They appear the same in every which direction, and have countless exit and entry points. As I walk the long corridors filled with dusty old trinkets and touristy apparel, one by one the salespeople tear their eyes away from their phones and give their best attempt at a sales pitch. Best not you find a dead end, as you'll find yourself cornered between someone trying to sell you the elephant statue you happened to glance at for a fraction of a second, and a pair of cheap leggings.

In the coming weeks I will be focusing on Joe to Go's marketing efforts as the restaurant operates solely to fund The Global Child. While there is much work to be done, I look forward to the challenge and have already been able to put my design skills to use and offer input.

Photos From the Week

Link to photos:

https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B_U9DpQYzRfdWGV5eU1xZ1h2QTA

First Full Week Feels

As I draw near to the end of my first full week as a volunteer English teacher in Siem Reap, I can say that I am starting to grow accustomed to my new life here. It's funny how much of an emotional roller coaster life can be in just the span of a week. When my first weekend was over and it was time to get back to work, everything still felt entirely new, which came with its own set of challenges. This was the first week Sydney and I had our own teaching schedules, and at first the anticipation of having to get in front of and teach a group of students gave me a case of the heebie jeebies.

I had nothing to be nervous about though. I attribute my worries to the incredibly high standard I hold myself to. But over the course of this week I learned how to roll with the punches, and if something didn't work, I'd have an opportunity to try something new the next time. What I found was that despite how nervous I was before a class, by the end I felt invigorated. Each class seemed to take all my worries away, and by now I have learned to just enjoy teaching the students something new.

At present Siem Reap is already starting to lose its novelty, which has given me less distraction from the feelings of homesickness. Teaching once again was able to solve this problem, among other things. Since I was given a teaching schedule this week, my agenda has been filled with lesson planning, activity research, classes, and staff meetings. All of these things have given me little time to worry about my homesickness, all the while building a sense of purpose in this faraway land.

I had the opportunity to meet some very nice people at a restaurant one night for dinner, and speaking to them gave me some perspective. I spoke with a man from Norway and a woman from Spain, both of whom were impressed by the duration of my first international travel experience. After talking with them I realized that feeling homesick is nothing out of the ordinary, and I know for certain I will return home eventually. What is uncertain is when I will get to come back to Siem Reap, or see another part of the world I haven't seen before. Thus, I need to enjoy the limited time I have here.

What continues to impress me is the resiliency and attitude of the kids at TGC. Most of these children have lived through poverty, abuse, addiction, gambling, and for some even more. If you were to meet these kids however, you wouldn't have as much as an inkling that they came from troubled backgrounds (the term "first world problems" is really starting to take on a new connotation for me). Every morning I am greeted by dozens of smiles and giggles and "Good morning Teacher!"-s that I can't help but smile myself. On my birthday the kids even made me a card that was signed by everyone at the school. It was one of the most heart-melting gifts I have ever received.

While it has taken some jumping out of my comfort zone, I feel as though I am getting closer to the students, and that has been one of my main goals from the start. Today I was able to impress them with one of my stranger talents, which is my ability to walk a fair distance entirely on my hands. Even though I miss my family and friends back home a great deal, I am starting to build another one here in Siem Reap.