"You must be the tallest woman in the universe"

Well, contrary to the popular belief held among many villagers, I am not the tallest woman in the universe. In fact, the tallest woman ever was reported to have been eight foot four inches, while I am a mere six foot 1 inch. But, this is what everyone (so I am told, I have not learned the Khmer sentence "you are the tallest woman in the world" but am on lesson three with my tutor!) has been saying about me, wherever I go.

Ratanak showing how to use the stove

Although this week at Trailblazer I have mostly been working on filtering sand for the water filters or picking salad / weeding (and dealing with my uncooperative stomach -_____-), on Tuesday I (along with others) delivered 82 new cooking stoves to eight different villages (or rather, we went to one village where villagers from eight different villages gathered). The cooking stoves are meant to simulate what Cambodians normally use to cook, but instead of fill the enclosed cooking space with smoke, these new cook stoves make the indoor air quality (or rather, slightly-enclosed-space-air-quality) much better (and contrary to popular belief, indoor air quality is often worse than outdoor air quality). The stoves are also meant to reduce time spent cooking, allowing the villagers to pursue other projects and improve overall quality of life.

Getting the surveys organized

We arrived at a village Town Hall at about 9:30am, and the families from the eight villages selected to receive the stove also met us there. In order to be selected to receive the stove, each family had to fill out a baseline survey, asking questions such as "How long does it take for you to cook dinner?" or "How many people do you cook for?" The surveys will avoid yes/no questions unless it is about something directly observable (ex: "is there soap in your bathroom area?") and not opinion ("do you think you cook for a long time?"). After the families who want the stoves fill out the survey, the village chief (of the eight villages, there was one female village chief which is quite rare--they are almost always male) decides who gets the stove. Trailblazer picks the villages, the village chief picks the villagers. Trailblazer works within the already existing systems as not to impose onto the villages; however, this can also create problems if the village chiefs are corrupt (as is often sometimes the case).

Village chief collecting money and recording it

The Cambodian president of Trailblazer, Ratanak, showed the villagers how to use the stove briefly, and the stove itself came with picture instructions. Scott, one of the American founders of Trailblazer explained how it had taken two years to get the stoves shipped from the US with customs and everything. Some villagers had already paid the $1.50/6,000Riel fee for the stoves, while with others we saw the transaction take place with the village chief taking and recording the money for bookkeeping. The money goes to a central village fund / savings account, as I described a bit in my first post.

Strapping the stoves to bicycles and motos

Getting the stoves turned into a celebration of sorts. With each stove handed out, we got a photo of giving it to the villager. In my honest opinion, this was excessive. I understand how monumental this stove was for the people, and played along with the photos, but did so through a rather fake smile (I was a cheerleader in high school). As someone who really is not a fan of getting photos of myself when I literally appear like a ball of sweat, my hair is sticking straight up, and dirt is stuck to my sunscreen-slathered face, I was not amused.  One of them men receiving the stove remarked about its high quality, literally saying "Looks like quality" and was very excited and proud to have the stove--it was truly moving. Men, women, and children strapped the stove to their motorbikes or bicycles to go home, excited to use them. 

Three Suppers

Restaurant decor with sauces. These photos
are all from my iPhone, please excuse the
somewhat sub-par quality.

It doubled as a tailor shop!

They say third times a charm. Well I have discovered tonight that actually this might not be true, unless I am miscounting. On Saturday night, I went to a great Khmer place across from Build Bright University and had truly stellar fried rice that I wrote about a bit here. Last night, I went to another place and had amazing vegetables with rice. And then tonight.... my first thoughts upon receiving my 3,000Riel noodles ($0.75) noodles was "This is exactly what could give me food poisoning." This is never a good sign. The large pan of them outside looked so promising, the seating area so "authentically" chic, and the baby wandering around so cute, I had to sat down and order. And they had vegetarian options (that I tried asking about in Khmer (!!) but he understood English better -____-)!

My noodles arrived with a barely cooked egg (unless I have a poached egg on toast and am preferably out for brunch in New York at, say, Jack's Wife Freda, I prefer my eggs cooked) sitting in a bed of water, or oil, or something unidentifiable  The noodles were slimy and gross, and I looking at them I expected the bean sprouts to actually be worms and to move through my noodles (this was in my head, of course). I ate about half of the noodles, paid, and left.

Utterly unsure what that fruit next to the
coconut is as it looks to me like a ham slice.

To appease my stomach, I went and bought a steamed empanada (the dough was like for a Chinese pork bun) down the road which the man said was "sweet egg" but it was more like this jelly sugar congeal in the inside. My first bite was very chewy, but I soon realized this was because I ate the paper under the empanada as well. In true Asia fashion, he plopped the empanada into minuscule plastic bag. I overall was not a fan, which is good because I believe I was severely overcharged (I paid a whopping 1,500Riel ($0.375) for something that likely should have cost 500Riel ($0.125))

I then went to a juice bar to fully mollify everything stirring in my stomach which was decently reasonable. I have no idea what was in the ambiguous mixed fruit smoothie except for ice (which her mom was manually shaving off a block) and the jack fruit I tasted, but I am pretty sure there was condensed milk and also papaya, or something orange, as the color of it was peach and jack fruit is yellow. This, dear reader, is the story of my three suppers.

The Village

Ride to Poon te'Bang village

Yesterday, I went to Koon's (a man who is part of Trailblazer) village Poon te'Bang (this is how it sounds to me) for the whole day, which was very interesting and great to get out of the city where I fear being run over every other five minutes. We left from Siem Reap at 10am sharp, although I had been up since 6am thanks to the Cambodian music blasting from the house next to me (some sort of traditional violin, wooden xylophone, and loud singing. I have realized this goes on from sunrise to sun set. Seeing as I have dealt with now six power cuts ranging from 30 seconds to 2 hours, it is surprising to me that they use their power on this boombox instead of savoring it for, maybe, light).

I had never been that far outside of Siem Reap before, and it was truly (and expected-ly)  a whole different world from Siem Reap. Although only 31km away, suddenly the roads were not paved, toilets became holes in the ground, doors where non-existent (the houses were on stilts), and patches of different shades of green filled the landscapes like a carpet. It was interesting to see the different government signs, most commonly the Cambodian People's Party (Hun Sen's camp), the Cambodian National Rescue Party (of which I have never heard and wonder if there is a different name as well), and FUNCINPEC (Front Uni National pour un Cambodge Indépendant, Neutre, Pacifque, etc Coopératif or in English National United Front for an Independent, Neutral, Peaceful, and Cooperative Cambodia). The CPP had a center in nearly every village we passed through, and Hun Sen's face (and a bad picture of him, honestly) plastered on signs in even the most remote areas. 

So I have been told, people continue to vote for Hun Sen because they know nothing else. Elections are this July, and he is expected to win (or rather, he has little competition as people are too scared) again. According to Sophie, a Cambodian-American I met in Poon te'Bang who immigrated to the USA in 1981 from a Thai rescue camp and was returning to visit her mother, the people are just happy that it is not the Khmer Rouge, and that essentially "anything is better than the Khmer Rouge." Even though Hun Sen he no godsend, he is not Pol Pot. If the people and live and work, albeit often under the poverty line, this is still better than the Khmer Rouge. This is not meant to insinuate that the Khmer people do not care.

Also dotted along the villages and houses were signs from where filters, schools, houses, toilets, etc. had been donated. The most popular signs were from Japan, Canada, Australia, the U.S., and I saw one from the EU. I find it interesting that instead of just donating a water filter or toilet, the country or organization has to make it known who donated the filter, etc. rather than just put the filter in. I understand that with Trailblazer, for example, if the filter says Trailblazer then there is knowledge of accountability if something goes wrong. But the Honolulu Air Force Team? No. In my personal opinion, rather than have your name stamped onto the charitable act, just give it. Do you have to be recognized for everything?

I never say no to a coconut. 

After walking about to visit Koon's multiple friends and random cousins (and being told that I was the tallest girl they have ever seen, asking how much I weighed and asking me to step on a scale that looked more appropriate to weigh mangosteens (I declined to step on it), listening to "Thrift Shop" on the radio with smart aleck ten-year-olds and dancing a bit in my chair (they could not contain their laughter), and holding a baby without any pants on who I prayed wouldn't suddenly pee), I ate lunch and drank a huge young coconut. A woman then split open my coconut and gave it to a very young child (age unknown) who proceeded to scrape the meat out and get it all over herself. Lunch consisted of really good rice, a soy sauce chopped chili concoction, fried eggs, and water spinach. Koon kept apologizing that it was not pizza, and that it was not the famous (yet expensive and not widely eaten by Cambodians on a quotidian basis) amok you get in the center of town. I wanted to shake him and tell him that this is what I liked--not the food in the center of town that as I described earlier, the taste is truly MIA. I did not shake him, and I did tell him how good the food was, but I fear he did not understand (which will change soon as I take my Khmer lessons!) It truly aggravates me that everyone thinks that because I am a Western white girl I want pasta and pizza, but no, the pasta and pizza in Asia are often terrible and I much prefer Cambodian food by a landslide. Really--I remember having pasta at a swanky restaurant in Bangalore and just thinking how it tasted like a Lean Cuisine. No thanks. [Side note: Num Pang Sandwich Shop on 12th and University Place is amazing, yet far from anything I have had on the streets of Siem Reap yet)

After lunch we walked around more and talked to even more people, some of whom were huddled around a black and white television, we went back to Siem Reap. My butt was basically numb by the time I got back to my guesthouse and I struggled to sit still on the back of the moto. 3 hours on a motorbike truly takes a toll on your rear end, and even when I sat on my bed upon arriving home (and all I can say about my bed is that I am glad massages here are cheap), I stood up immediately.  

La Vie de Tomate

A) I really need to set up an alarm on my phone so I remember to take malarone. Although I completely bypassed paying $6 a pill by strategically picking up my prescription in batches over the course of six weeks, I must remember to take these pricey pills that will keep me out of hospital. At least I bought bug spray yesterday. And it smells like citrus (insert emojicon here)!

The pool I visited, 5-star place next to my $5
a night place. 

B) I also need to bite the bullet and buy some sort of sun hat contraption for my dear shoulders. I applied sunscreen twice today and still look like a genetically enhanced tomato. I went to a pool close to my new guesthouse (see below) because the there was a powercut and life without a fan was just not in today's tarot card reading, and it was Saturday.

I am glad I went despite my current tomato status, as the experience was very interesting and something I normally do not do (I am not a fan of pools). I met the owner of the resort, a Singapore-Malay man who lives in Holland and gave me an overview of foreign leased land to build hotels, as well as the immense expat scene in Siem Reap. We also spoke Bahasa! :-o More importantly, he gave me the number of another NGO that works with food and food access that I will call! There were a lot of other long term stay guests/expats (not sure of the line between the two) there as well, which was interesting especially listening in on their conversations. Right before I left, a Cambodian family rolled up in their brand new Toyota, iPad / iPhone in tow. I was actually surprised it wasn't a Lexus, considering the sheer amount I have seen around town. This was just another display of the sheer wealth that certain Cambodians possess.

Yesterday, I was able to find a guesthouse that was far out of town with a monthly rate for $150 a month--almost half of what I had budgeted for. Although I would much prefer a homestay--and still hold hope!--this is fine for now. There are tons of street side restaurants around where I can get really good fried rice for $1. And I mean really good. I had fried rice last night at the market in the center of town and truly, it was a disgrace to fried rice everywhere. The flavor was MIA, I found a random shrimp with two pineapple slices,  the carrots were soggy, so just no.

I also finally got myself a Khmer phone number, although with a company that I have since been told is the worst one in Cambodia (Beeline). I am able to text out to the USA, but cannot receive texts from my mom, for example. I have also realized that some Cambodian phones cannot text in general. In general, I am noticing that there is a wide array of cell phones, from iPhone 5s to Nokias from 2002. When buying my citrus bug spray, I saw a toddler on the floor buy his mom watching a video on his iPad. Seeing all of this Apple wear reminds me of my lost iPhone 4 that I got stolen at Ari Cantik Hospital in Bali, a place I prefer to never go to again (not Bali, the hospital).

Her stuffed animals before her brother came and put them
all behind her head (but didn't take them away? He needs big
brother lessons).

To get my SIM card I went to a shop that was about five minutes walking from my old guesthouse, but the man who worked there, the grandma told me, was getting food and would be back soon. Although she told me this in Khmer, she used enough hand gestures that I knew what she was talking about. So I waited. The children watching TV were too adorable to leave behind, and one of them even brought out all three of her stuffed animals to give me a tour of them (I had no clue what she was saying). Although I loved this grandmother and wanted to give the little girl a toothbrush (although a toothbrush does not change the world, I just hated to watch her drinking Coca Cola with blackened teeth), forty minutes later I was still phone-less, so I went to another shop.

Lots of other exciting things happened yesterday, such as getting lost for about an hour and a half and buying a kilo of mangosteens for $2 (still unsure if this was too expensive, but I was not about to bargain with the woman who was riding on her bike around town sporting long pants, a long shirt, socks with flip flops, and a hat/neck/mouth covering contraption for something that was less than a coffee at La Colombe), and I could keep writing and bore not only you, dear reader, but also myself to tears sitting here with Khmer karaoke in the background and a mosquito bite on my chin. One of the most interesting, poignant, and sad (not sure what the right word is) things I witnessed yesterday were the camps that Cambodian people set up just across the river from the touristy district. Just out of sight for the vast majority of tourists/travelers, Khmer people were setting up camp for that night beside a river. Just four hours earlier, I watched some convoy of three Mercedes, an Escalade, and four police motorbikes and cars escort some public official right by the same place. As I listen to Hun Sen preach on television (the guy switched from karaoke), I am truly shocked at the amount of political and cultural contexts that went right by me last time I was here. I had some idea, but not a fuller picture. 

First two (sunburnt) days in Cambodia

One of the lettuce gardens. The filter is "toaster" because I
literally feel like a burnt piece of toast in this heat -__-

I arrived in Cambodia early yesterday morning (by early, I mean I had to be up at 2:30am in Kuala Lumpur to make it to the airport--of course, there was no traffic so I could have easily slept until 3:30am (!) but oh well) and was able to get to Trailblazer foundation by 9:30am. My home-stay unfortunately fell through, but I booked a guesthouse for three nights and will go on the hunt tomorrow to find a cheaper one with a monthly rate that is closer to Trailblazer. I have been taking motos or tuk-tuks to Trailblazer and unfortunately, this will begin to add up more than I would like (even though I love motorbikes). My other option is to bike, but unfortunately bike helmets are hard to come by and gawked at; however, if I rent a bike I will insist on a helmet not only because my biking skills are not 100%, but also because other people's bike/driving skills are not 100%. I might look dumb but I would look even more dumb having exorbitant yet avoidable hospital fees (although Siem Reap has a branch of Bangkok Hospital, bb <333 #gapyearmemories).

Yesterday, I had a tour of the NGO grounds, and learned more about what they are doing. The three main areas of work that Trailblazer is involved in are agriculture, water for families (filters), and township water (wells). The Cambodian people pay a very small amount ($5) for the water well, and the money is collected by the town and creates a sort of town trust. People can borrow from the trust to buy chickens or to take their child to the doctor's office, for example. The filters provide water for three families, and I have already witnessed that this water comes out very slowly so it cannot be used for commercial use (such as creating a fish pond). As for agriculture, Trailblazer is working on setting up local gardens in towns in order to jumpstart economic activity with the  vegetables. At the moment, Trailblazer is test driving arugula and other high end salad greens to sell to tourist restaurants in Siem Reap as that is where the most money is and the demand is highest. If all goes well, Trailblazer will set up gardens in the village communities. Trailblazer also attempted to grow and sell mushrooms to restaurants, but this did not work and right now, I am helping with the aftermath of this.

Look at all of those mushroom bags!! 

Type of bag that I have been
putting the mushroom
compost into. 

After the mushroom attempts failed, I have been opening each plastic bag that held the soil, comprised of lime, sawdust, and rice for the mushrooms, and emptying it into large former fish bags to be used for compost in the future. The mushrooms were grown in plastic bags molded in the shape of plastic bottles. Yesterday was brutally hot, while today it has cooled down a bit after it rained last night--making this work much more enjoyable (because I went to bed at 6pm last night, and accidentally screwed up my alarm and woke up 11pm, I missed this rainstorm although I heard the thunder was very loud--a testament to my heavy sleeping). By hot, I mean it feels like the sun is pressing against my shoulders, and as sweat drips off me (in waterfall proportions), my knees my buckle into the dirt ground and I will slowly melt. Although it is somewhat mundane work, I am still learning a lot about how things are run at the NGO and although it sounds corny: I am learning that not everything attempted works (which might seem obvious), and it is good to know that when things do not work, they don't try and pretend they do but rather stop (what also might seem obvious  but think about it: how often do people recognize their mistakes and backtrack like that?). Mushrooms can work in Cambodia, so I have been told, they just need to have very specific conditions.

Doing all of this work makes me sweat up storm, meaning I have a great excuse to replenish electrolytes with young coconut water!!

On a more academic and environmental note, rice farming in Cambodia overwhelmingly uses pesticides, while there is a new push to use organic pesticides (don't be fooled: organic pesticides are not always better for the environment than synthetic, and in fact, synthetic pesticides can be better), according to my supervisor Rataunak.

[Fun Fact of the day: the verb "to eat" in Khmer actually means "to eat rice." This reminds me of the verb "to work" in Indonesian and how it literally means "to work in the rice field." This further proves how rice is not only ingrained in the culture and nutrition of Southeast Asia, but also in linguistic structures.] 

My Brief Saudi Encounter

When I booked my ticket in February, the price of my return flight was honestly too good to be true. For under $1200, I had a return flight to Kuala Lumpur, and a one-way ticket to Siem Reap. The catch: I was flying through Saudi Arabia. 

The Middle East is crudely mythologized in the United States, and it becomes this foreign land that houses oil, burqas, terrorism, and extreme Islam. I felt prepared for my brief encounter with what Flaubert and so many before and after him deemed "the Orient," but felt that I would be sheltered in the airport.

Not so. I arrived at JFK about two and a half hours before my flight (I meant to be there three hours ahead but Bareburger was more important at the time) with my two backpacks in tow along with a large bag of Whole Foods goodies (which wow--I have a lot but I am thankful for!!). Already in the line, I saw more burqas than ever before. I was used to hijabs in Indonesia, but it is always shocking to see a female, just like myself, have only her eyes showing to the world. I also saw some very fashionable Burberry and Fendi hijabs, along with piles of luggage on smartcarts (the amount of luggage was truly concerning)

I was wearing my signature Nike shorts in line; however, when it was my turn to check-in (after about 45 minutes) I was told I had to put on long pants before receiving my boarding pass. 

Excuse me?

Luckily, I had slightly foreseen such an occasion and had leggings in my backpack. I put them on and got my boarding passes to Jeddah and Kuala Lumpur, and by some miracle my bag only weighed 21.7kgs. 

View from the table I parked myself at

On the plane, I sat next to a little boy and a woman with a full burqa on. Assuming that she was travelling with her mom (who came over often, and often woke me up in the process of either leaning her hand on my shoulder, her talking basically in my ear, or her black burqa sleeves tickling my face), I was surprised to see that her husband was in the seat in front of us with his friends, but never once acknowledged his wife or son. For some reason, I thought that they were meeting her husband in Saudi Arabia because there was no sign of him on the plane, and because I was sitting in the aisle seat of a three seat row, I took the spot he might theoretically take. I did see couples, nonetheless, that were "holding-hands-affectionate" with each other. 

The flight attendants were all female, but there were only some male cabin crew in a simple white-shirt-black-pants combo. Honestly, the flight attendants did nothing to ensure that electronics were off, tables up, seats up, and seat belts fastened. There were a few announcements, but no walking through the cabin. 

I was happy that we all had personal TVs, not so happy to find out that these TVs barely had any television on them. I went to recent western film releases, expecting to catch up on the Oscar winners, and instead only recognized Life of Pi, which, sorry, but I have no interest in watching. In television, however, I saw familiar hits: Friends and Modern Family. I watched the two available episodes of Friends and started to realize....some words were bleeped out, scenes missing, and it was fuzzy over Rachel and Monica's chests. The word "beer" was bleeped out, yet not lager, stout, or ale, which was interesting (the episode happened to feature Ross and guest star Paul Rudd having lager together, hence the plethora of beer related vocabulary). In Modern Family, they bleeped out the word "period" and "menstruation." So does this just not exist? I wondered then, what was the point of even showing these series? Is saying the word "beer" really going to ruin Saudi way of life? And periods are a way of life, whether it is recognized or not. As an American, I would see this censorship as the government taking away my freedom to watch what I want, but in Saudi Arabia, because the Koran--or some version of the Koran--is the basis of life, this "right-to-see-Rachel's-cleavage-or-hear-the-word-beer" is not even considered a freedom. Bleeping out "period" irked me even more. On a more macro scale, this means that the human rights initiatives can be construed differently all over the world depending on the definitions of these freedoms. Although much of human rights discourse is founded on equality...are we equal?

I was thinking that I really would not be able to listen and respect my mom like I do today if she were wearing a burqa that covered everything but her eyes, and wasn't assertive and independent. But then I get conflicted: In Islam, this is how women are (not) meant to be. In the US / Europe, are we actually improper? Is complete equality between the sexes ever possible, and meant to be? Although comparing Saudi Arabia to the US is extreme, and let me tell you I am thankful to be able to wear shorts, and write this because I have only recently become very interested in feminism and feminist policies. Even though I am confined to a small portion of the airport, I am still in the land where television is only just starting to break cultural barriers (and New York Times wrote a great article about this) and has two women participate in the Olympics for the first time ever less than a year ago. 

Well aware that I should read some Saba Mahmood, and fully plan on it.