There is nothing more beautiful than the struggle of hard work come to fruition. Whether you are striving to lose 100 pounds, afford a new car, circumnavigate the globe in a hot-air balloon, or earn your PhD, your goals are no more and no less important than the guy on the bus next to you just trying to stay sober for the next 30 minutes. We have no idea what wars are being waged in the hearts of the people around us.

Take a moment to look around you. The people you're surrounded by? They are all you have in this moment. Are you going to judge them? Love them for who they are? Cringe at the mess you see in their lives? What do you think they see when they look at you? That whole thing about not judging others unless you're willing to be judged by the same standards...it's really good advice.

Be forgiving in the judgments you dole out, whether you speak them aloud of not. If there is grace in your thinking, there will be grace in your doing. And when you do things a little more softly you make the world a little bit better of a place. And couldn't we all use that?

There is little shame in being understanding, and much in being far too rigid.

Grace.

I don't give myself enough grace. I certainly don't give anyone else the grace they deserve.

Why is that, I wonder? Why do I, and so many that I know, treat grace as though it's a limited commodity? Grace isn't a "here today gone tomorrow" thing...it's an attitude. A disposition. To be a person of grace is to be willing to swallow your own pride and put yourself in the other persons shoes and say "how would I like to be treated here?" Often times the way we would like to be treated in any given moment is far different from how we want to react with our own sense of righteous anger.

But how righteous is it really? I mean...if someone jumps ahead of us in a queue, offends us with some slight, or ruffles our feathers with some inane behavior, what sort of injury have they really done to us? Prickled our pride? Pride is an idea, a concept...There is no organ where pride is housed other than in the abstract concept of the 'mind'. If someone injures our pride, it's not as though they shanked us in the kidney.

So I return to my original question...why am I so unwilling to offer myself grace, and even more unwilling to extend it to others? How is that helping me build community? How is that helping me instill a sense of belonging and of worth in others? How does that spread my message of love?

Where to start, then? How to give grace. Well...I suppose it starts with loving myself as I want to be loved. Unconditionally.

That's hard. The problem with unconditional love? We are programmed with so many conditions. It's part of being human. But really, if I don't love my self with such a grand, graceful, permeating love, how can I ever expect anyone else to? What right do I have to claim such love if I can't give it?

So it is my will and my stated intention to learn to love myself for all the awesome bits and all the not so awesome bits. And I will also strive to love others more as I love myself...I often claim unifying powers of the philosophy of ubuntu (I am what I am because of who we all are), but now it's time to truly live those words.

Grace begets compassion, compassion begets understanding, and understanding begets community.

Live love, breathe love, be love; this is the only way.

Recently, as some of you know, things have been shifting and changing in my life. I suppose that's not a big news flash...anyone who is doing any authentic living goes through ebbs and flows of change; it just seems like right now change is hard to track and easy to be overwhelmed by.

As I find myself further removed from Cambodia, I find myself mourning what I left there more and more. In and for both productive and non-productive reasons. I miss my family there. I miss my friends. I miss the simplicity and the reliability of life being absolutely absurd to the point of disbelief (as odd as it sounds, yes I miss it). I miss the openness I felt with my entire community. I miss the shared sense of responsibility and expectations. I miss the willingness of people to help without expectation of return.

So it's come to the point where missing those things is not just enough. I can't continually pine after things that once were...it's time for me to start rebuilding them here, with new people. New family. New friends. I'm operating under the assumption here, that "if you build it, they will come."

This begs the question, how does one go about the business of building such an integrated community? Good question. It definitely starts with relationships...and that's about as far as I've gotten on the formula so far. But I've started throwing in little bits and pieces of things here and there that, I believe, are helping me become a more well rounded, well versed human being. For instance, I've started hanging out with, and helping out, a group in my community called Transition Snoqualmie Valley. Their focus is to address things like the economic crisis, climate change and oil dependency with local means. They're really into permaculture and sustainable, responsible agriculture, they're really into community engagement and social responsibility, and they're really smart people. I'm enjoying getting to know them.

I'm also working my butt of to get another promotion at work. Where I am is not where I want to be. I've identified a place where I think I could make some significant improvements, and I'm doing whatever I can to find myself in that place. It's slow going, because there is a timeline (a very poorly thought out one, but a timeline nonetheless) in place that I have to. It's an exercise of changing the system from within the system, I suppose.

I'm also growing much more intentional about my relationships. I don't want people in my life that aren't willing to invest in me as much as I do in them. I want people who are doing their level best to let their yes mean yes and no mean no. I want people who operate with integrity AND a sense of adventure...socially and romantically. I am not willing to settle for left overs when I work REALLY hard to cook up some quality offerings. There must be balance. I need more balance.

That's where I am...I feel unbalanced. I feel out of control in some areas and very tightly clamped down in others. I want stability.

I need stability.

Well....a lot has happened since I last posted, so I figured I should maybe catch everyone (anyone?) up that may still be reading.

It's been six months since my return from Cambodia, and I'm still not happy to be here. I feel very much like my dream was ripped away from me. Having said that, I do need to make things clear:

I have a job that I love, and am doing very well in.

I am in love, and I get to see my love. Often.

I have fantastic friends that support me unconditionally.

But I still feel like I belong in Cambodia.

I think it has been hard, obviously, for having to leave unexpectedly. But also because since I've returned, I haven't been able to get in contact with my host family through phone or email. I've tried and tried, and nothing goes through. I worry about them so much...and the love I have for them is so intense and so deep that not being able to talk to them is painful.

I also very much dislike the current state of our country (who doesn't?). I do feel that we are on the edge of a very important precipice in history, and things will either get much worse or much better--there are some of us that are working to make it better, but it seems like the people who should be leading the way (my generation) have given over to apathy, and that scares me.

Is it good that I am home? Certainly. Otherwise, I'd likely be dead now. This next phase of my life, though, is totally undefined and that scares the living daylights out of me. For decades my entire focus was getting into the Peace Corps and becoming a PCV. Now that I've done that, I need to find a pinnacle goal. And those don't come easy! I'm persistent, though, and I will find something that I am just as passionate about, and I will, eventually, achieve that goal.

In the meantime, though, I will continue to work the job I love, and grow this love I have.

I arrived home on September 3, 2010. My mom picked me up at the airport, and because my bags were coming in on a different, later flight, we were able to get lunch at a nearby restaurant. For some reason, we ended up going to Claim Jumpers. I’m not sure if you’ve ever been to Claim Jumpers, but they have OUTRAGEOUS portion sizes (like, an entire head of lettuce for a salad) and it was overwhelming but delicious. After we got my bags we drove to Kirkland and visited my grandfather. He cried, I cried. We cried together. Then we made the drive back to our house on the mountain. There’s this one hill that pretty much separates rural western Washington from urban western Washington. When we got to the bottom of the hill, overlooking the valley I grew up in, tears sprang from my eyes and there was nothing I could do to stop it. It was like all of a sudden my entire body went, “You’re Home!” On the day I got home I got to see a few cousins and my aunt, my other grandfather, and my best friend. My second day in America my dad decided it would be a GREAT idea to go to the Evergreen State Fair. I walked in the front gate and was immediately overwhelmed by so much America in my face all at once. It was good though, and I enjoyed spending time with my parents and one of my cousins. Since the 3rd, I have slowly started to readjust to the culture (the climate is taking a lot longer!). I really miss my host family, and I am not ashamed to admit that I’ve cried more than once when talking about just how wonderful they are. Being back is bittersweet, but in the end it’s the best thing for me…and like I’ve said before: sometimes the thing you have to sacrifice is the thing you’ve sacrificed so much to get.

Anyone that has worked for the government can tell you that the way the government does things rarely makes sense. This statement definitely includes the flight path Peace Corps chose for my journey back to America. There is a restriction they have, that they must use American carriers or other airlines partnered with the US Government for any travel arrangements purchased by a government agency. Because of this rule, Peace Corps ended up buying me a ticket that is $1,700 and stops in 5 stops (three of which are in three different countries). I got curious and did my own search, and as a private citizen I can get a flight for $899 with two stops. CRAZY! So get this—here is my flight plan: Phnom Penh to Saigon (Ho Chi Minh) In Saigon for 15 hour layover. Saigon to Hong Kong. Hong Kong to San Francisco. San Francisco to Seattle. While I was REALLY not excited about the 15 hour layover, it did turn out to be very interesting. Today is actually the Vietnamese Independence day! So I got to see this crazy concert where EVERYONE was WAY excited to be Vietnamese. And I also got to see a really cool, INSANELY long fireworks display. As much as I didn’t want to come home, I’m glad I got to see this! Peace and love!

If I’ve pushed all the right buttons, this should be posting on Thursday, September 2. And if that is the case, then I am on my way home. After going through what the Peace Corps doctor called the worst case of Dengue she had ever seen, and nearly dying in the process, I had a long talk with the doctor and discussed my health here in Cambodia. The truth is, I’ve been on sick leave more than I’ve been in the classroom. I’ve had dysentery more times than anyone NOT crossing the Oregon Trail in a wooden wagon should ever have. I’ve had more respiratory infections than can be counted on both hands, and I’ve had monthly yeast infections in my intestines from the medication they give me that is supposed to keep me from getting sick. Although I have made great advances in the language, and I have been accepted as a full member of my village and local community, and although my host family has embraced me as their own, it is time that I come home. The longer I stay here the higher the risk is that I’ll contract a lifelong disease that could prevent me from doing good works in other places. I have loved my time here—I have grown immensely as a person and as an activist, and I am forever changed by this experience. Thank you so much to all of you who have supported me on this journey. Your prayers and positive thoughts have carried me this far, and I am ever grateful. Love and blessings from Cambodia, Nikki

I want to thank a moment to thank you for all you’ve taught me over the last year. It’s impossible to enumerate all the various lessons, but I know this much is true: I will never be the same. You’ve taught me humility and patience, things I was never good at in the States (and honestly, I’ve still got a long way to go in these areas). You’ve taught me to go with the flow—whether the flow leads to a funeral, a wedding, or an afternoon in my hammock. You’ve taught me the difference between want and need, and then again what true needs are. You’ve taught me to love without reservation or condition, and you’ve taught me forgiveness down to the atomic level (not just that surface forgiveness I’ve been used to). I want to thank you for your generosity—for a place that has been ravaged not only by my own country, but by its own people, you have given me so much. Your people are a testament to the grace and goodness that I know resides in each and every person on this planet, if they allow it to grow. Your people have written their names indelibly on my heart. I want to thank you for allowing me the space and time to learn how much my family back in America means to me, both blood and chosen, and for giving me the room to love them as I love your own people. I also want to thank you for allowing me this experience and the sure knowledge that comes with it; that I was created to ease suffering and be the compassion that is lacking in this world. I only hope I can do half of what you’ve done for me. Forgive me if in my imperfection and eagerness I make a few mistakes along the way. Just know I’m doing my best.

I’m sitting in my hotel room watching an epic thunderstorm rage outside, and I can hear children laughing and playing in the street below. It’s nights like these that I am amazed at my life, and that I’ve ended up where I am. Being in the Peace Corps has been a lifelong dream for me—since 4th grade, at least, and now here I am, a real live Peace Corps Volunteer, loving the monsoon season in the country that has become my second home. I hear the squeals of the kids below and I know they’re down there, swimming in the street and dancing around naked while the rain falls and the thunder crashes. I hear their happiness and I think of all the things they don’t have, and don’t know they don’t have. I hear their laughter and my heart melts, because I know that right now, in this moment, this is where I am meant to be, and their laughter won’t always be the soundtrack to my life. Rain has always been a good thing for me—it clears my head and washes away the cobwebs, helps me see what is important and what can be let go. To the people of Cambodia rain is just as important, as the rainy season is off to a late start and the rice farmers are worried about crops. In a way, whether we need to think straight or feed our families, the rain here does the same thing for all of us—it offers hope. I don’t know what the future holds for me, or for Cambodia, but I do know there’s an abundance of hope. And that, my friends, is something that I, and this country, could use a lot more of. So I’ll welcome the rain, and the children’s laughter, and let it remind me of all that is and all that could be.

One thing that being sick with Dengue has afforded me is a greater awareness of sensation. The rash you get (or at least the rash I got) covered my entire body, from the soles of my feet to the tippy top of my head, and made me very aware of EVERYTHING that touched any tiny little part of my skin.

I slept for about 9 hours this afternoon, then forced myself to eat (I'm not hungry AT ALL, but the doc says I have to eat to get better). While I was waiting for my food to arrive, I sat on the bed in my hotel room and just rocked back and forth, noticing the way the air moved against my skin. It was very comforting. I really enjoyed just rocking back and forth in the quietness of my room, feeling my skin move and stretch...when my food arrived I was actually a little disappointed that I had to stop and answer the door.

After I ate, I rocked a little more and now that I feel all sorts of blissed out, I'm going to go back to sleep and attempt to kick this Dengue's butt in my dreams. And if that doesn't work...well....I can always rock some more.

In my last post I wrote about how I was sick on my birthday, and how for the umpteenth year in a row my birthday pretty much sucked. Well, shortly after I wrote that I found out that I wasn’t just laid up with some random cold, but with Dengue Fever. Dengue is a mosquito born illness for which there is no treatment or cure. Its symptoms include a fever, a headache and pain in the eyes, a rash, muscle aches and pains that make it feel like your bones are breaking from the inside out, and an overwhelming desire to sleep. Because of the bone pain, Dengue is sometimes called Bonebreak fever. I will attest to the fact that it really does feel like your bones are breaking. My fever at one point went up to 104.5, and even with meds and ice packs the lowest it went for a week was down to 100F. I can’t tell you how miserable it is to have a fever that high when you’re in a tropical country! It’s horrible not being able to feel warm when you’re nearly on the equator! Already it is two weeks since my birthday, and I am starting to notice some improvement in my health—the fever left a last week, and the rash is gone, thank God, but I’m still so incredibly tired and every time I cough or move I get pains through my body. I do have to say, that rash is something I would NEVER wish on my worst enemy. It felt like my entire body was being ravaged by fire ants, twenty-four hours a day. And it covered my entire body. Now that I’m on the mend, I’m looking forward to getting back to my village soon. I haven’t seen my host family in two weeks and I miss them a lot. I’m still sleeping an inordinate amount of time, but even if I’m sleeping, it will be nice to be back with my family. The best part, I think, will be getting to hug my mom and snuggle with her while she checks my hair for lice and ticks. It sounds so backwater, I know, but it’s the simplest little things here that remind me that I’m loved. Also, something I have to think about is whether I want to keep doing this. The doctor today encouraged me to think about going home. The fact of the matter is, each time you get dengue it gets worse and every time gets you one step closer to having hemorrhagic fever, which can cause all kinds of lovely bleeding. The doc pointed out that I’ve been a very sick woman here in Cambodia, and it just seems like I can’t catch a break. I know that I don’t want to go home—I am doing what I love to do, and what I believe is my purpose at this time in my life. I also know, though, that there’s only so much abuse my body can take without impacting my ability to do good things in the future. I have very wise parents and friends, and they’ve all taught me that making important decisions while you’re sick/impaired/etc, is not a good idea, so for now the decision goes on the back burner. When I’m well, and that may be another month yet, I’ll start to think about the big picture and whether or not continuing here is in my best interest. Until then, love and blessings from Cambodia.

Ever since my 16th birthday, when I spent the day at the ICU with my grandma, who was dying of lung cancer, my birthdays have sucked. With two exceptions, they have sucked royally. And this year is no different. August 6, some of the K4 trainees came to my house for their Kampuchea Adventure. I think they had a good time….I HOPE they did, anyway. We kept it really low key and I gave them a chance to relax and just NOT do training stuff for a few days (not to mention the fact that my bones really hurt and I didn’t want to do stuff), and then I fed them spaghetti and macaroni and cheese—things I craved a LOT during training. When they left on the morning of the 8th, I felt not so great but figured it was just fatigue from the new exercise class I’d started with my mom combined with the extra effort of playing hostess and translator all weekend. BUT sometime in the middle of the night between the 8th and 9th I woke up with a fever of 103 (SURPRISE!!!) that wouldn’t go down below 100 no matter what medicine, or how much I took. I also had a really nasty cough. Three and a half days later, with no relief from the fever AT ALL (and one of the docs here saying, “just eat some soup, you’ll be fine.”) my host mom forced me to lay down with a block of ice on my head and one on my chest. That helped a little, but by that time I was in so much pain that anything touching my skin made me sob uncontrollably. Today is August 12, my 27th birthday, and now on top of all the other stuff I’ve already written, I’m dealing with the fact that I have probably coughed my way into a hernia. OH JOY. I don’t know what I will be doing for my birthday next year, but I’m guessing whatever it is will be great compared to this one.

Well, we have officially hit the one year mark, and I still feel like I just got here.

Things have simultaneously dragged on and flown by--when school is in session (if we have school) my days are packed and busy from sunup to sundown. And when there isn't school...well, I always have my adorable little kindergarten kids to occupy my time and have water fights with.

I don't really know what this next year will hold....School starts October 1st (but then again it did last year, and nobody started teaching until the middle of November) and from then it's just a short hop, skip, and hammock swing to Christmas. Not to mention all the nice little festivals and holidays in between. I figure that maybe what made most of last year go so quickly was breaking it down into small two week chunks. No matter how things are going, if I just break them down to two week chunks, it always seems more manageable.

And here, sometimes you really just need something to cling to!

The really nice thing about this month was having my parents here to visit, and showing them my beloved country. We had a blast at Angkor Wat, despite the crazy heat wave. We also went and hung out with my host family for a couple days and that was SO much fun. We spent a week down at the beach, and we saw everything there is to see in Phnom Penh.

It was so nice to get lots of hugs and snuggles and even hear my mom say, "Nikki! It's too hot to cuddle!"

Whatever the next 12 months hold, I'm excited for the ride. Here's to another great year in the Kingdom of Cambodia.

Love and blessings!

As you can see, I've made a few changes to my blog, and I like the new look very much.

July is officially just around the corner and that means my parents will be here to visit my beloved Cambodia! Well, and me...they are coming to visit me too ;)

As a Peace Corps Volunteer, it is part of my job to educate Americans about Cambodians and to share with them some of the things I'm learning, hence this blog. I believe, though, that my parents' visit is a big part of that cross cultural exchange.

My parents, as incredible and awesome as they are, have a much larger sphere of influence than I do. If I can show them Cambodia in a way that helps them understand the history and future of this country, then they become a big source of education for all their friends and colleagues back home. Or at least get those same people interested enough to contact me to learn more.

I wish I could send all the love I have for this place to you, so you could understand. There are a lot of very broken, very damaged people here. But there is also a lot of hope and progress. Mother Teresa once said, "if we have no peace it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other." I believe this is true, and the responsibility that comes with that is both humbling and awesome.

The month of May was spent in a flurry of activity helping my family prepare for a big celebration. Everytime I asked what celebration it was, they told me it was a "special" one, and that they were all very excited I could attend. I wasn't going to get a straight answer, so I didn't press it much.

It wasn't until about two weeks ago that I found out the celebration was, in fact, my host-grandmother's 1 year funeral. The special thing, they told me, is that my host-grandmother, whom I am sorry to say died before I could meet her, was so respected in the community that she was chose to have her ashes interred at a very famous, centuries old wat near our house. I, for one, was not aware that this particular wat existed. I asked around and received various answers as to the age of the wat, but from all sources, I know that the wat is at least 200 years old and may be as many as 500. How amazing is that??? All the grandmothers I have had in this world have been so awesome, and here I have one that is considered awesome enough to be interred in a holy place that could quite possibly be older than my own country?! That kinda blows my mind. Like...woah.

From what I've heard of this woman, she is the kind of person I would have chosen to be my surrogate grandmother, if I had known her during her life. In my interviews with people over the last few weeks I've learned that she was kind, generous, loving, wickedly intelligent, a survivor, a fighter, compassionate beyond measure and wise.

She survived Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge, built a life for her family and helped others as she could, and sometimes, even when she couldn't. She lived true to her Buddhist ideals, and in so doing embodied love for all life. Sometimes when snuggle with my host mom, she pets my hair and smiles down at me and whispers, "you are just like my mother. I miss her, but when she left you came into my life. I don't hurt so much because I have you" or "you love like my mother loved...it is difficult, and beautiful, to love like that."

The ceremony at the wat lasted for nearly three days, and we were at the wat nearly the entire time. It began in the pre-dawn hours of Sunday, May 30th and ended in the late midnight hours of June 1. Sunday was spent setting up the wat area for the celebration. In most villages, and mine is like most, the elderly do all this work. They are the ones that take care of the monks and help with chores, so it was a little awkward for me to watch 70, 80, and 90 year old men and women do some pretty heavy labor and be scolded and smacked when I tried to help. I suppose if I werent' their Barang I'd be allowed to help, but there is no changing who or what I am. So instead of setting up canopies and laying down the mats to sit and pray on, I played with the kids (which in itself is a service to the elders...the kids get into EVERYTHING).

Mid day, a bunch of women my mom's age came around and started setting up great big cooking pots that looked like they should be used to feed an army. Little did I know, later the ENTIRE village would show up, and they pretty much did feed an army. Anyway, they showed up and started cooking all kinds of food that I think the FDA would throw a fit over. No hand washing, no clean utensils, chopping meat and vegetables on a dirty tarp on the ground. It was awesome.

In the late afternoon the monks showed up and we went through a series of prayers. As the Barang belonging to the family of the honored deceased, I was, naturally, sat right down in front of the monks. Now with me not being steeped in Buddhist customs, and not being able to completely understand what all was being said (rapid talking + loud speaker + strange people poking me as I try to concentrate and pray = not totally aware Nikki) I did my best to grin and fake it with the proper bowing and chanting. I'd like to pause here and thank my own mother, Mrs. Kimberly Ann Canady, for forcing me to eat carrots as a child--it was your dedication to my nutrition that allowed me the peripheral vision necessary to accomplish this task.

After dinner the first night, there was a live band complete with THREE scantily clad (they wore skirts that showed their KNEECAPS!) women and a man that looked sorta like a hobo gigilo. My mom was a little dismayed that nobody was dancing. She asked me why nobody was dancing. I wanted to offer that perhaps they couldn't dance because they'd all be deafened by the impossibly loud volume of the music, but that just doesn't translate into Khmer. When you say, "wow...that's really loud," you are invariably met with an offer to turn it up even louder. Instead, I pointed out that it was impossible to get to the dance floor due to the thousands of mayflies drawn to the bright lights (post thunderstorm). She told me that bugs should be no obstacle to dancing, paired me up with one of the policemen under my father's command (he LOVED that....me, not so much) and shoved me out into the swarm to fend for myself while trying to appear graceful.

To quote a favorite song of mine, "And with the way I stare you'd think I'd seen through a 2x4. And with the way I walk you'd think I've never seen grace before."

WELL. Trying to dance traditional Khmer dancing (in a circle, very slowly with lots of elegant hand movements) is NOT easy when being bombarded by insects! I was anything but graceful. My partner didn't seem to notice, however, since he was busy making sure everyone knew that he was dancing with the white chick. He did make sure to tell me that even though I am very fat, I have a beatutiful face. Oh Cambodia, how I love thee....

And so the world turned, and night fell. And then I noticed that there were children crawling all over the outside of my grandmother's tomb. And that they were, in fact, stringing up Christmas lights. Not only Christmas lights, but BLINKING Christmas lights. Then my brother Daro mentioned something about looking for a disco ball. My grandmother's funeral was turning into a rave. I wanna say, for the record, that when I die, I want to be so epic and made of so much Win and Awesome that my funeral turns into a rave, too. Just sayin.

Anyway, the disco ball never materialized, sadly, but the party went on well into to pre dawn hours. I was hustled home for a few hours of sleep, then back at the wat for sunrise and another long day of prayer and beseeching the good spirits to guide grandmother on her journey in the next life. Her ashes, contained in a beautiful urn, were poured out on a plate and doused wtih water for nourishment, then placed on top of a prayer rug in her tomb, along with a massive bundle of burning incense. There were a few tears shed, and I lamented that I was not afforded the opportunity to meet someone so loved by her family and community. After grandmother's tomb was closed up and padlocked, there was more praying and bowing and chanting and the party was re-kindled and went well into the night.

It was durring the party, part deux, that I had the awesome opportunity to look inside the wat and talk with the monks that live there. They told me the history of the wat, though none could agree on the age of the building itself. It is at least 200 years old and maybe 500 years or more. During the Khmer Rouge, most wats were destroyed but for some reason, Pol Pot decided that this one particular building should be kept whole. It was used to store salt and grain, as well as prisioners, and while some of the artwork on the walls was destroyed by the salt, for the most part the building is remarkably intact. The structures the monks live in, just a stone's throw from the actual wat, are decrepit and disolving at a rapid rate. They are made of bamboo and palm leaves, with a few brick supports. I'm sure when my father sees this building he will have visions of OSHA complaints and fines flash through his head.

All in all, the experience was amazing and humbling. It was a very intense time and while I am sad that I never got to meet my host grandmother in life, I feel as though I've grown close to her even after her death.

Blessings from Cambodia.

(Picture 1: My grandmother's tomb, Picture 2: The old folks praying with the monks, Picture 3: One of the inside walls from the ancient wat)

April is a month of rest and relaxation for many here in Cambodia. And since we don't have school for almost an entire month, a friend and I have decided to take the time to see the sea.

Adrienne and I are were both born and bread on the Pacific, she in southern California and myself in Washington state, so for us being so far from the water has been a bit like being without a limb. Since we've been here we've heard a lot about this place called Rabbit Island and how wonderful it is. When April rolled around we decided to hop on a bus, head to the coast and see for ourselves.

Rabbit Island is a small place with only a handful of permanent inhabitants. It can only be reached by a 30 minute ride in a leaky boat, and once ashore there is little doubt that you will be forced to relax. The island has no electricity, save for a few hours at night by generator, no running water, and no "western" accommodations to speak of. Rabbit Island is perfect for Adrienne and I.

We spent six days there, lounging on the shore and listening to the waves break. We read several books, played several thousand hands of gin-rummy (most of which I lost) and even watched a few Jaws movies as the evening tide came in. Words cannot express how much I loved having my skin stained with the scent of sunblock and knowing that the worries of life and the hardships of Peace Corps service were temporarily on hold.

After Rabbit Island we returned to the mainland and chose to stay ion Kep, where I write from, which is also on the sea. We are staying at a place called Kep Seaside, which is a passable enough guest house. The room is a bit lacking (lots of mosquitoes and a ceiling fan that barely moves any air) but the staff have come to enjoy joking and jesting with us. One girl that works in the restaurant has begun to give me hugs each morning and evening and tease me about having a fight--especially funny since she only comes up to about mid-chest on me.

One thing that has been pressing in my mind is the dichotomy in this country between those that have and those that have not. In my village, a rich person is someone who can afford a moto or a car. Here in Kep, however, I write from a restaurant at a sailing club while a multi-million dollar boat is anchored outside. The poor here would be kings in my village. True, a lot of that has to do with location. My village simply is not a place that holds any attraction for tourists. The seaside, though, is a perfect place to vacation.

I needed this vacation, to be honest. I love my host family, I love my village, I love my school and my mom's kindergarten students who fawn over me. I enjoy many things about this country that I have come to love. What I didn't realize, though, was how much I needed to recharge my own batteries...I have been working so hard to help other people and to meet their needs that my own were not being met.

Here at the ocean, though, the waves crash with a steady assurance; the heartbeat of the earth. I watch children and families play in the water and I see the crabmen bringing in their catch, I smell the air, fresh and clean, and I know that I am ready to take on whatever awaits me back in Sala Lek Bprahm. My village. My home.

As a foreigner (“Barang” as the Khmer say) in Cambodia, it is not an unusual thing for me to watch or experience something and make a face that looks like this: 0_o

Cambodian culture is very rich and complex, full of traditions and rituals that rank as the oldest in southeast Asian history. To the Khmer, the things they do are normal. To us Barangs, however, sometimes things don't quite add up.

One of the things that puzzled me most (and still bothers me to some degree) is this trend I've noticed where people will wash their hands BEFORE using the restroom and AFTER eating. In America, of course, we tend to emphasize the washing of hands AFTER the restroom and BEFORE eating. The thinking, as it has been explained to me, is that you never know what you have on your hands and, since we don't use toilet paper here, you don't want to risk wiping yourself with something that could cause irritation or a rash. And you wash after eating because at some point in the meal you will have used your hands to eat something.

Another thing that I still am not used to is the gender touch barrier. In Khmer society, it is absolutely not okay to touch a member of the opposite sex unless they are a family member. This can be difficult for foreigners, especially from western cultures, where we tend to use touch as part of our communication and displays of affection, both romantic and platonic. What makes it even more difficult for us lighter skinned Barangs is that we are a novelty item in Cambodia, and people love to touch us. And thanks to the modern movie and music world, most Cambodian men think all western women are begging for them to sleep with us. When I go into the market or take a ride in a taxi, it is not unusual for women to grab my arms, stomach, breasts, or legs. It's a Khmer woman thing, so I don't mind it too much. Even my host mother, whom I live with and see every day, still strokes my skin and grabs various body parts. The men try to do the same thing, but because I'm not your average bear and actually abide by the cultural norms, I don't let them.

The last time I was in my market, a man tried to touch my butt and one of the grandmas in the market came out with a big meat cleaver and told him to leave me alone or he would walk away without his manhood. It is times like those when I really appreciate being loved by my community!

Something that I really have a hard time with is the language—there are SOOO many words and phrases that sound alike. For instance:

“friendly” is pronounced: rayuk tayuk “more diarrhea” is pronounced: reyuk teeit

“mango” is pronounced: swvy “monkey” is pronounced: swva

“big” is pronounced: toam“ripe” is pronounced: dtoom

These similar sounding words go on and on...a lot of the time it makes for some great comic relief at home. One night I was talking with my family and trying to explain that I like my mom's students very much because they are kind and friendly. What I ended up saying, with my blunders in tenses an verb conjugation, is: “I liked your students because they had more diarrhea.” They though I meant that I like the students because they have more diarrhea than I do! I also once told my mom's students that they climbed the trees like mangoes.

Probably the funniest thing with the language that has happened to me is that I was in a taxi once, and it was very crowded (12 people in a 5 passenger car). I was trying to apologize to the lady next to me for being so big and taking up so much space. What I ended up saying was: “I'm sorry there is no room. I am very ripe.” Ripe, beyond the American connotation of “smelly” is also a euphemism here for being pregnant. The lady felt my stomach and looked very confused for a while. She then said, “maybe Barang babies have a different shape in the stomach.” The whole rest of the ride she kept trying to give me lotus beans to eat, because they are good for the baby.

On one nearly disastrous occasion, I used one of the verbs for “to love” incorrectly. There are a lot of words for “to love” in the Khmer language, and you use them for different things. You love chocolate differently than you love your mother, and differently than you love your spouse/partner. My host mother asked me if it would bother me if she had her afternoon classes at our house. I tried to say that it was no problem, because I love kids. I accidentally ended up saying that it was no problem because I like to have sex with children. 0_o For the record: THAT IS NOT TRUE!!!!!

Once my host mother and I were on the same page again, we laughed until tears ran down our faces.

February 10 started out a pretty good day. I like Wednesdays normally, because I have really really good classes on those days--my students are actually interested in English and they are eager to learn. I was looking forward to the day. I got to school and one of my friends, Tin Tourin, handed me an invitation to her wedding which was to take place on the 26th of this month. I felt really included in my community and valued by my friend--normally at Khmer weddings all the attendees are required to give money to the bride and groom and she had told me specifically not to give them money because not only am I a volunteer (and therefore poor as snot) but she really just wanted me there for my support and friendship and not my money.

I finished my morning classes early. My last class of the morning, a 2 hour block with 11th graders, was astoundingly smooth and the students actually understood the material. We finished an entire lesson forty-five minutes early, which meant that I would get a great nap in before my afternoon classes (which are always so draining because of the heat). It was at this time that the day took a tragic turn.

The following is an excerpt from an email I sent home, explaining the event:

"At approximately 10:30am I was leaving the school, having finished my

morning classes. I was leaving the school with my housemate, Suy, and

ahead of us was our friend Tin Tourin. As my housemate and I

approached the school gate we watched in horror as a van swerved into

the wrong lane and hit Tourin head on. Her moto was pinned beneath

the nose of the car and she was dragged for some 50 meters before the

moto dislodged and tossed her to the side of the road. The van did

not stop. I rushed to Tourin and began to give CPR, but I am sad to

say my efforts were useless and she died. An ambulance was called to

take her body away and the police came to take pictures, but because

the van was not from my village and the destination was unknown, it is

unlikely that the driver will ever face justice. *(note: There will be no investigation.)

It is true that death is no respecter of persons. That very morning

Tourin handed me an invitation to her wedding on the 26th of this

month, and by that evening I was sitting beside her family at the

first night of her funeral.

Tourin's family is very, very poor and the cost of a funeral is beyond

their means. As such, the teachers of my school, myself included,

donated all we could to help the family. Today the students decided

on their own that they too would help her family. With our combined

efforts it is believed that we will not only be able to pay for the

entire funeral (which includes not only three dayts of the initial

funeral, but a ceremony at 7 days, 100 days, 1 year, and 3 years

postmortem) but also the grief price ($1,500US) the driver of the van

would have had to pay if he had stopped or been caught.

In just a few hours I will go with the teachers of my school to attend

the cremation of Tourin's body. In the Buddhist tradition they

believe that the body is made of four elements (fire, wind, earth, and

water) and by burning the body on a funeral pyre the body then returns

to those four elements. Since I was the last to hold her this life, I

have been asked by her family to help set her free into the next. As

of yet I do not know what this entails, but if it will ease the grief

of her family and fiancee, I will do my best."

I did my part with the cremation (I helped cover her body with incense before they lit the pyre) and cried along with her family.

The part that got me was the response from the police, the students, and the rest of the people that came to the scene of the accident. When I expressed my shock and dismay about the whole situation, the callousness, as I saw it, they just shrugged their shoulders and said, "that is the way it is in Cambodia..."

I am deeply saddened by the entire event and, and events following it have slowed down my ability to process the whole thing...I am, however, eternally grateful to my family and friends back in the states who have been so supportive, as well as my family here in Cambodia, who have watched and supported as their strange American daughter tries to work through this.

I hope one day the work I do here, the work I will do after, and the work of those who are passionate and compassionate like me, will effect so much change in the world that never again will someone shrug their shoulders and say, "that's just the way it is..." when someone is killed in a hit and run. Or killed for any reason. Life is too precious for that.

I would love to say that I have not updated my blog in so long because I've just been THAT busy, but....that would be a lie. In all honesty, I have done more hammock napping and book reading in the last six months than I have EVER done in my life.

Christmas was lovely and VERY VERY laid back. I went to Phnom Penh with my friend Adrienne and we ate all kinds of Western food that we have been missing for the last three months (Christmas weekend was the first weekend we were allowed to come back to Phnom Penh after Lockdown), revelled in the air conditioning, and basked in the glory of each other's company.

I am blessed to have come this far from home and made such a rock solid friend.

New Years I spent at home with my host family. Global new years isn't such a big deal for Cambodians, since they also celebrate Khmer New Year and Chinese New Year, so on New Year's eve I slept and read until about 11:30 or 11:45pm. My host brother asked me to watch tv with him, so my brother, my mom and I watched a really REALLY bad new year's concerty (live, in Phnom Penh) and then a very anemic fireworks display. I was in bed and asleep by 12:20, I think.

Since then I've been working (a little) and being sick (a lot). I have been plagued by intestinal diseases here, and January was an extreme example of that. I seem to be on the mend now, thanks to my Peace Corps Medical Officer and the miracle of modern science and chemistry.

At training we were told to expect to gain weight...until now I have LOST 60lbs, which is cool and strange at the same time. The mirror I have at my home is about big enough to see my face if I stand in the right place, so when I came to Phnom Penh this week for medical treatment I looked in a big, fully body mirror and didn't recognize myself. That was a trip.

Look for more interesting reading to come soon....I hope.

November has flown by and as December rushes toward me with abandon.

The last three years, as I finished my college schooling, November has been punctuated by ice storms and sometimes negative temperatures. This year I traded the cold and ice for 40 degree Celsius temperatures and clear blue skies. The change did make it a little harder to get in any sort of mood to celebrate Thanksgiving, but a celebration was had nonetheless.

This past week Peace Corps broke us up in to regional groups and had us meet together for an In Service Training to brush up on language skills. We've been on "lockdown" since September and unable to leave our provinces, so for some of us (those who were fortunate to have their IST location in another province) we got to see a bit more of Cambodia. My group was sent to Batammbang province, to the provincial capital, which is the biggest town I've been in since September. There are a few PCV's in my group that are stationed in this town, so they weren't able to travel, but even for them this event was exciting because we got to reconnect with friends that haven't been seen for a long time.

I arrived in Batammbang on Thursday morning. The bus ride from my village (Salah Lek Brahm) cost $5.00 (plus an extra $2.00 "service fee" ((read: "hey, you're a Barang and have money...give me more money or I won't let you get on the bus"))) and took four and half hours to travel a little over 200K. I left at 7am and arrived just before noon. The hotel we stayed in is new and nice, as far as Cambodian hotels go. For some reason PC opted not to provided us with hot water or air conditioning (since it's winter here) and we all felt the effects as temperatures soared to above 90. The room I shared with my friend Darlene had an eastern exposure and got a great deal of direct sunlight, leaving our room absolutely unbearable. The first two nights we suffered along with the heat, making use of one small oscillating fan, but the third day I broke down and paid for the aircon myself. I just didn't see the point of being unable to sleep and end up grumpy all day if I had the means and ability to change the situation. That was a great decision.

The language training was alright. I learned some good words and phrases. I think the most helpful back home will be "Mom, the ducks have escaped from their pen again!" My family keeps a brace of ducks and, for as stupid as they are, they've managed to figure out how to escape. They do so five or six times a day, and I get to help my mom herd them back into the pen. Until now I have just stammered out "Mom, the ducks are visiting!" in Khmer. The point got across, but to be able to speak with some semblance of intelligence will be nice.

I also learned more of the why's of a the most popular greeting here--"Have you eaten rice yet?" Every day I am greeted with this phrase twenty, thirty, sometimes forty times. Everyone wants to know if I've eaten rice. This, apparently, became a common greeting during the Khmer Rouge years when eating any kind of food, let alone rice, was a rare and fortunate event. If some could answer that they HAD eaten rice, it generally meant that things were going well that day.

While it is still annoying to be asked if I've eaten rice a million times a day, it makes it more understandable.

Friday night our group, 12 volunteers from K3 and several K2's, made our way to a bar called "The Bus Stop", an establishment owned by a very shady Australian man. There we had a true Thanksgiving feast complete with smoked turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy, corn on the cob, green beans, apple pie, pumpkin pie, ice cream, and the best sweet potato casserole I have ever had IN MY LIFE. It was so good I've had dreams about it since.

Turkey meat is not common in Cambodia. The guy that owns The Bus Stop is pretty seedy, though, and has enough black market connections to get us one. It cost $100, but we got it, and it was DELICIOUS. The food was wonderful and a good time was had by all. It didn't feel like Thanksgiving beforehand, but after, when we all started to give in to the food coma, it certainly felt exactly like Thanksgiving.

It is pretty hard to be away from home during the holidays, but when you live in a climate zone so foreign to your own, it does help you forget that the holidays approach. Like I said before, I knew the holidays were nigh when the ice storms in Missouri made it impossible to open my car doors and I had to listen to 9 hours a day of Christmas music at Home Depot starting November 1. Here, no ice. And CERTAINLY no Christmas music. I think that might be worth the 10,000 mile trip in and of itself!

As of tomorrow I will have been an official Peace Corps Volunteer for exactly one month.

I must admit that when I was a child dreaming of being in the Peace Corps, this is not exactly what I had in mind. In my perfect Peace Corps world I was stationed in the South Pacific on a romantic island with white sandy beaches and no mosquitoes...I would fall asleep to the sound of the waves crashing on the beach, and I'd spend my days teaching in a sarong and flip flops.

NOT quite what I am doing now.

I may not be in the South Pacific, but I am in the tropics. And somehow I ended up with the exact opposite of my dream--no beaches and lots of mosquitoes...I don't fall asleep to the sound of crashing waves, but instead to the screeching twang of music from the Wat down the street, or to the dogs barking madly at things that go bump in the night. Actually, I don't fall asleep to the dogs barking...I rant and rave at them in my head until I get tired and pass out.

I've spent a lot of time trying to get to know my host family. I have a brother (Daro) one year younger than myself, and a sister (Dary) the same age. Dary attends University in Phnom Penh, though, so I only get to see her every other weekend or so. Daro is a quiet man with a pretty hearty sense of humor. He knows I'm afraid of the big spiders here (bigger than a dinner plate, and they defend their territory) so he bought a fake spider at the market and hides it in places I where it will either fall on me or I will see it at an inopportune moment. My mother also likes to tease me about spiders and often yells "Prolyat! Ping Pieng!!" Which means, "Look out! Spider!" just as I'm about to sit down at the dinner table, or as I'm walking down the Stairs of Death and Doom at night.

I suppose I should explain the Stairs of Death and Doom...

As is typical of a lot of Khmer families, my house is two stories. The bottom floor is made of cement and the top is wood. There are two sets of stairs to get to second floor, one in my family's private quarters, which is rather like a tree house ladder, and one that pretty much only I use. Those would be the Stairs of Death and Doom. They are made of cement, which is nice, and they are quite sturdy, which is also nice. The first half of the stairs are nice and normal, leading to a landing where Nyung, our black dog, usually sleeps when I go up for the night.

Once you get past the landing, though. the stairs are WICKEDLY steep and the steps are not a standard height. If I stand on one stair tread, the next stair comes nearly to my knee. So at night, when there is no light on account of the electricity being shut off, well....it's not exactly a trip downstairs I enjoy making. Due to the Stairs of Death and Doom being, well, all death and doomy, I am the proud owner of a chamber pot. Which, I shall not describe in detail. No need to thank me.

One of the benefits of living here is that I have produce trees in my back yard! I have coconut trees, banana trees, and even a tree that grows a fruit that tastes exactly like grapefruit but is about the size of my head. It took me three trips to the market to buy bananas before my father took me out back and showed me the banana trees...he thought it was funny. I....well, I did too. I also realized why the banana lady at the market didn't want to lower the price any more for me...why should she when I have FREE bananas at home???

These are the current joys of being a Peace Corps Volunteer in Cambodia.

This is the good life...

October 1st marked the 30th anniversary of the first day of school following the overthrow of the Khmer Rouge. Many do not understand the importance of a day like this, but to a country whose entire educational class was systematically destroyed...it is a really important day.

Since October 1st I have eagerly been trying to observe the teachers in my school, but for several reasons (none of which I really understand), nobody has been doing much teaching at all. So instead, I get to sit around the picnic tables at my school and conduct what the Peace Corps calls IRB-ing. That is, Intentional Relationship Building. I think over the last 14 days I've built some really good relationships!

Other than shooting the breeze for four hours a day with various teachers, I've been reading a lot. I am thankful each and every day to my parents for getting me a Kindle. It is really a fantastic device, and is presently keeping me sane.

Another thing that has been keeping me in good spirits is the care package my parents sent. Not only did the send the much needed USB cord for my camera, they sent hair conditioner (YAY!!!) and some Easy Mac macaroni and cheese....I have been craving mac and cheese for SO long. The fact that I cannot get milk or butter here is frustrating, but having some that I only need to boil water for makes me quite happy! They also included some tea, which I am really really enjoying--I'm a tea nut, I guess.

Other than that I have been watching episodes of Grey's Anatomy and House on my laptop, and am finding that Greys Anatomy is AMAZING with all its gooey drama, and it also includes stunning views of home...and House...well...everybody needs a stethescope wielding misanthrope in their life, right?

By the end of this week I am promised a teaching schedule, which means I should be able to observe all my classes by the beginning of next week. That will help me get a good idea of how to better serve my school and the teachers I work with. And that is a beautiful thing.

Until next time, love and blessings from Cambodia!

Training is now officially over and service has now officially begun. Today at around 4pm my training group was sworn in as the 3rd group from the U.S. Peace Corps to ever serve in the Kingdom of Cambodia.

Our training has been long and difficult a times, ripe with drama, stress, injury and illness. It has been an eye opening succession of days, to be sure, and we are all glad to be done with the training process. At times I, and countless others, have wanted to quit and go home. At times I have wanted to make the move here permanent. I can only imagine how those feelings will ebb and flow over the next two years.

Tomorrow many of us will stay in Phnom Penh, purchasing supplies before our three month lockdown (in which we may not leave our province) and enjoying our friends and support networks once more before we strike out on our own. I fully intend to use tomorrow to purchase some necessary items (read: oatmeal, yoga dvds, a chamber pot and a tea kettle) and to relish easy access to free, fast internet and western food.

Beyond that, I have no idea what lies ahead of me besides opportunity, struggle, and, God willing, a host of awesome stories that begin "so this one time, in Cambodia...". I imagine I'll be in for a lot of learning, laughing, and lamenting over the state of the Cambodian educational system. I also imagine I'll find myself falling deeper in love with this ancient, awesome race of people who have already marked themselves indelibly upon my heart.

For now, blessings and love from Cambodia.

Pics: (1: My kitchen at my training family's house. 2: My little sister. 3: My cousin. Bottom 4: Angkorian age temple ruins)

Greetings friends!

Life has been a whirlwind of activity since my last post. I left the states on July 22 and have been in Cambodia since July 24 doing pre-service training.

I am living, with 22 other trainees, in a small rural village called Traing. The other half of our group is in a city called Tramkok, and we envy them (sometimes) for having a gas station (with airconditioning) and an internet cafe. For those of us in Traing, when we want to use the internet we must travel by tuk tuk or remork (think farm equipment) for thirty to fourty five minutes to the nearest internet cafe.

I think the most poignent thing I've learned in the last few weeks came from a Catholic nun I met. Her name is Sister Luise and she has been living in Cambodia for going on twenty years; she is quite instrumental in the rebuilding of Cambodia's educational system (which needs a LOT of rebuilding). Sister Luise impressed upon me the need Cambodia has for educated men and women who are willing to invest themselves in a people who are struggling still to recover from Pol Pot's reign of terror and the atrocities commited by the Khmer Rouge.

Speaking to me of her experience so far she gave the example of the lotus flower--if you've seen one you know that it is absolutely beautiful. For them to bloom, however, takes a lot of work. You must peel back the tough outer layer that protects it--"this Cambodia," she said, "you need help it."

Seeing the way this country has suffered, is still suffering, and struggling to rebuild has really impressed that statement upon me. When you travel the country side you see places where temples were destroyed by the Khmer Rouge (and even by US bombs). You see land mine craters. You see brokenness. But when you meet the Cambodian people and you enter into their world you see so much more--you see love, you see compassion and care for one another. You see a wealth of generosity pour out from people that often have next to nothing. If you look hard enough, you can see your place in the rebirth of a nation.

I have yet to speak the language fluently, but the love part I have mastered. It is with a deep sincerity that I can say Cambodia has captured me. My heart weeps with the broken and dances with the whole. This, I believe, is the foundation for a beautiful future.

This Cambodia-you need help it.

And so I shall.

Today we landed in Phnom Penh and already things are bustling right along. A few of us found an internet cafe, hence the blogging (I want to get a t-shirt that says, in Khmer, "I am SO blogging this!" but I don't think they make any....At any rate, Phnom Penh reminds me a great deal of Jiamusi, the city where I lived in China. I believe this will help in my transitioning, so now my biggest concern is learning the language.

I will update more as I can, and remember that you are loved and cherished from half a world away.

I registered for the Peace Corps today...lots of fun filling out forms and talking about safety, anxieties and aspirations, policies, and expectations.

I've met the people that will be my fellow volunteers and they all seem to be really cool so far. There are quite a lot of us from the Seattle area--the U.W. is the Peace Corps' largest provider of volunteers, I guess, and it turns out that even if you're just FROM the area a not a Dawg you're more likely to apply for the PC. Who knew!?

I'm excited to begin the next part of this adventure--I have a LOT of travel in front of me (Tokyo, Bangkok, and Phnom Penh all a day apart from each other) and then we jump into training with both feet.

Here's to challenge, growth, and the benefits afforded by caffein.

Good golly, miss molly...it's been a week, that's for sure.

On July 5th I broke down and finally bought a new lap top--my old one served me faithfully through college, but it finally gave out due to old age. The speakers stopped working about six months ago, then the power button, then the power cord almost frayed the whole way through, and most recently the machine itself has started to fail to shut down. SO...it was off to Best Buy to pick out the new one.

On the way home we got a call that my uncle had been in a very serious motorcycle accident in Eastern Washington and was being airlifted to Harborview. At that time he was not expected to live. Several days later he is still in the ICU, but markedly improved.

Tuesday we were leaving the ICU waiting room when my mom's cell phone went off. It was her little brother calling to say they were taking my grandfather to the hospital. So off we rushed.

The stress and exhaustion mounts day by day, but I hold out hope that this is all the medical emergencies my family will experience in the next two years. What all is ahead for my family, I'm not sure, but the reality of my absence weighs heavily on my mind.

As I sat in the hospital with my grandfather today, he reminded me that if we never face adversity we never know the depth and breadth of our character; and if we don't know the depth and breadth of our character, we cannot say we know ourselves. And so I take pause to search and know just who I am, and on what foundation I stand as I begin my next greatest adventure.

Well, July is officially here in eight minutes, which means I only have 20 days left in this country. I'm really excited!!!!

I've got all my bills paid off and my insurance and phone service set to cancel on the appropriate days, I've got most everything I need to take with me (with a few exceptions) and my mother hasn't even cried once yet! ...I do have to say that the other day she gave me a hug and told me exactly how many more "good night" hugs I'd get before I leave. I asked if she was putting me on a hug budget...I didn't get an answer.

As far as the doings of leaving go, I only have three more days left at work, which I am enjoying the heck out of. I was hoping to get a leave of absence so I'd have a job to come back to, but as it turns out, my company does not consider the Peace Corps as an acceptable reason to grant a leave of absence--if I were going overseas in a war to kill people and blow stuff up, they'd hold my job indefinitely, but as an ambassador of peace and good will...well, I'm left, at best, to hope for something upon my return. As you can imagine, this did not sit well with me. Ballsy as I am, I skipped all the middlemen and went straight to the CEO of my company and told him how ridiculous this is. He promised me he'd take a look at the policy and see what can be done to change it; while it's too late for me, hopefully there will be changes made at the corporate level that make it easier for people like me to do good things in the future and still come back to a job. So yeah...I've been thinking about what kind of technology I'm going to take with me. Nearly all the other current Peace Corps Volunteers that are in Cambodia right now have said that having a computer is REALLY nice. When there's nothing to do you can watch movies, play games, and pre-write blogs and letters....I happen to like this idea. Unfortunately, my computer is not agreeing with me. Since I graduated it has gone on this ridiculous decline of functionality and it is little better than a door stop at this point. So...to buy a new one, or not to buy? That is the question. Whether 'tis nobler in the field to suffer the paper cuts and torture of pen and paper, or to give way to the rise of technology...

I'm going to be taking my iPod, which I've also heard is almost utterly indispensable, and I'll also be taking the SWEET new Kindle my parents gave me. Oh! And my camera. I've been told that I will be beaten within an inch of my life if I don't take a ridiculous amount of pictures and send them on a semi-regular basis. Other than that, I just need to pick up a couple head lamps to use while riding my bike at night and for reading in bed (so I don't burn down the house, see). Oh...and underwear. :( I have to go buy underwear, and anyone who knows me knows that this is not my favorite thing in the world. In fact, I hate underwear and I hate underwear shopping (any shopping, really) with a burning, flaming passion. It's a good thing I'm getting a headlamp to avoid the whole burning and flaming thing, because I'm pretty sure if you combined my hatred for underwear with an open flame, people in China would feel the rumble from the explosion. Sadly, if they did, I couldn't help them...I'm going to Cambodia, you know...

I'll do it for the cause though....oh, the sacrifices we make...

Pretty soon here I'm going to start my epic whirlwind adventure of picture taking and family member visiting, just so I can make sure I don't get stoned with stones and burned with fire upon my return....and so I can show my new Cambodian family (whomever they may be) what their American family counterparts look like.

Heh...turns out I'm pretty much like Brad and Angelina (only without the whole 'are they going to divorce or not' bit, and much more pizaz). See--they have a habit of adopting kids from every flippin continent....I happen to adopt my own families in every country I've lived in. Every state too. I have Chinese sisters and a Chinese mother, and pretty soon here I'll have a whole Cambodian family! This is EPIC! Somebody call PEOPLE magazine, Brangelina has NOTHIN' on this!!!

In one of my earlier posts I mentioned going to the library to check out some things to get me prepared for Cambodia. One of those items is a CD to help me learn some of the Khmer language before I get there and have to learn it all in three months.

So...I just have not had time to listen to the CD until now, and let me tell you--I'm lost! There are sounds in that language that I cannot figure out how to make. Not only that, but the guy that put the CD together obviously has never heard of the idea of learning how to say simple things first, then moving on to the harder things.

The first thing it tries to teach is "What nationality are you?" Which would be easy enough if they had at least started with teaching the words for "What" "nationality" and "you", but nooooooo, just the whole flippin sentence with nothing to go on but what it sounds like coming out of my car stereo. And then...ooooh, and then this impertinent British man that is hosting the CD asks you to craft a response--IN KHMER! It's the first lesson! I have no idea how to say ANYTHING let alone craft a response to adequately communicate that I am American.

Lol...I feel I should write this Brit a strongly worded letter.

In other news, I have now 39 days until I depart and I'm getting wickedly excited. I managed to get rid of a bunch of stuff I haven't used in years, and tomorrow I'm going to attempt to clean out my closet (the difficult part being that most of it is filled with other people's things). My goal is to get down to only the things that I really need and desperately want so that I'm not overwhelmed by STUFF when I get back.

That, and you know...holding on to a bunch of crap that I dont' use or need really isn't doing anyone any good.

I think pretty soon here I'm going to start crafting my photo journal to give to my Cambodian family as a present. I want to include lots of pictures of my family, since our families will be forever linked, and also what daily life in America is like for me. I also want to get them some other gifts, but I have no idea what...

I mean...what do you give someone as a way to say, "thanks for being my family for the next two years...."?

This last month has absolutely flown by, but at the same time it also feels like it hasn't edged forward at all. Just a few weeks ago I was driving across the country, freshly graduated, making my way back the the left coast, and now here I am, waiting out my last 30 days as an active employee at my present job.

Time flies, but also drags...oh how lovely the waiting is.

When I decided to go to China it was like...everything happened in a few short weeks. I got my passport, my visa, and my plane tickets and left. This has been such a long process and now I am literally 46 days away from getting on a plane...I think it's harder because I know when it's all going down.

Right now I'm trying to figure out my packing situation and I'm desperately trying to get together some things I'll need while I'm there. And all this while I STILL haven't unpacked anything from moving home.

I've been having lots of dreams lately. Dreams about conversations with monks, naps in hammocks, and making mosquito traps out of 2 liter bottles (it's true! only requires a 2 liter bottle, water, sugar, and yeast).

And you know the funny thing? Turns out God is helping me prepare for the heat--my normally mild and damp Pacific Northwest has suddenly turned into a scorching inferno intent on breaking all kinds of heat records and making people generally very miserable.

C'est la vie, non?

You know you live in a small town when you walk into the library and say, "Hi...I need to learn to speak Khmer as fast as humanly possible," and the librarian gets all excited and goes, "You're Nikki! I already put some things aside for you."

The focus of the next two months for me will really be on learning some basic phrases in Khmer and trying to learn the alphabet. I've looked at it, and right now it doesn't really make all that much sense to me. There are so many loops and swirls and I don't think a single letter has a straight line. It's radically different than English and even worlds apart from Chinese...I know that with time and practice it will come, but that doesn't stop the occasional wave of "ooooh man..." from washing over me.

I can do this though.

A little time, a lot of patience, and a double measure of hard work...that's all it really takes, right?

I just accepted my placement literally less than 8 hours ago, and already I'm ready to be in Cambodia. I've been doing research since just a little after I found out where they wanted me to go, and it looks like Cambodia is an awesome place to be. Yes, the country has had a very rough, tumultuous past but its future is brighter than ever and as a people they have made many advances.

The entire country is slightly smaller than the state of Oklahoma and has a population of roughly 15 million (that's five times the number of Sooners in OK). Its climate is warm and wet, with some months receiving over 10 inches of rain and little temperature variation between seasons. From what I've been told, the seasons are "hot, hot and wet, and wet". At least as a native of the Pacific Northwest I'll have the "wet" part down!

Thus far my research indicates that I should not take a whole lot of stuff with me--nearly everything I could ever want (with the exception of a laptop) can be procured in country at a VERY reasonable price...my plan right now is to pack light. Some of the more seasoned Peace Corps Volunteers have given me this advice: "Don't pack as though you're going to be living somewhere for two years. Pack for a week and a half. That's all you'll need." I thought that was a bit odd, but considering if you bring much more clothes than that they'll get eaten by rats, I'm pretty confident I can do quite well with about a weeks worth of stuff!

And...besides...I don't really have that much stuff anyway.

I am a flip-flop wearing, tree hugging, grass-roots hippie. I believe in the power of community service and duty to one's family and environment. I believe in the power of love, friendship, and humility. I believe that this world will only sink farther and farther into the depths of despair unless we, the citizens of such a marvelous planet, take steps to reach out to one another in faith and compassion.

It is with these beliefs that seven months ago I began the long process of applying for, and being accepted into, the Peace Corps.

I received my acceptance packet today, and I'm excited to know that I will be living and working as a servant-leader in Cambodia. I'll be teaching English there, learning the language, loving the people, and hopefully, growing some.

My present departure date is set for July 20, 2009 and I'm told there is pretty reliable internet in Cambodia, especially in the bigger cities, so I hope to be able to write about the next two and a half years of my life with some regularity.

Thanks for reading.

With blessings and love,

Nikki