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."
Friday, September 29, 2017
Sunday, September 24, 2017
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.
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.
Saturday, September 16, 2017
Thursday, September 14, 2017
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.
Wednesday, September 6, 2017
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.
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.
Saturday, September 2, 2017
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
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
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