Malevolent → V ← Benevolent

“10,000 demons hammer down at every footstep; 10,000 angels rush the wind against my back…” – Brandon Flowers

I’ve always suffered from unyielding ambivalence. I live in constant indecision and doubt. I struggle with commitment. I generally prefer being apathetic to feeling anything.

But 2010 has changed me. I suddenly have convictions I never recognized previously. I’m confident in my decisions. I find myself earnestly absorbing each and every one of these new experiences and emotions that have engulfed my spirit since I moved to New York City a month ago.

This year has been… stirring. I ended a relationship. I lost a job. I moved out of an apartment on one coast and into an apartment on another coast. Every single one of these events has forced me to look into the mirror and question my motives and desires… and in the process I’ve realized that I am the product of both benevolent motives and malevolent desires.

As a result, the barometer of morality that I’ve always held myself to has changed. I can’t judge myself anymore for acting recklessly in the spirit of fulfilling prophecies. I can’t blame myself for performing in accordance with my instincts because my heart yearns so desperately for recognition. I am also confronted by the challenging task of being both perfectly humble and disarmingly cocky… all of which has resulted in my often asking myself “who the hell ARE you??”

Of course, for all the intensity of experience and emotion I’ve felt as of late, I’ve also become incredibly Zen and serene… the best possible combination for a leap-of-faith move to New York City in the middle of a recession.

...here goes...

triumphant beginnings/returns

after a month of transience, i finally have a mailing address!

anatomical confusion

my heart is sore.

i got a million ways to get it: choose one

shout to josh eddy, who got me hip to a band called bitter:sweet, who has a song called "dirty laundry," that is HOT.

moving on:

moving, literally. i have to be out of my apartment on 31 august and leave for nyc on 1 september. no real plans beyond find a job and find a place to live. i'm sure i'll have some interesting sagas to report from the front lines.

it's weird what an introvert i've found myself to become since i've been home from the jungle. i prefer keeping to myself even more than usual now and am kind of trying to make a quiet exit from los angeles. i'm even a little burnt out on life blogging and exposing my naked soul to the world for examination.

so! i've decided to start reviewing things - anything i suspect will provoke you as it does me - in addition to relaying the colorful little incidences in my life. (plus it's way easier to be funny when you have a springboard to launch from)... ultimately this will be my narcissistic recollection of the banal circumstances and minor distractions of and in my life.

today i'm spending the day packing and getting myself organized to move, which might create some chaos worth mentioning...??? after dodging malaria and wading through elephant shit-infested water for a month, suddenly my life seems so boring.

video archives

the internet was too slow in laos to upload video, so here's a little archive v-logging following my first and last weeks on the trip.

week one:

week four:

Allow me to re-introduce myself ("smile all the way in your liver" - Eat Pray Love)

Today's preface: if I wasn't before, I certainly am a woman now. And for that, I am smiling, deeply, all the way in my liver.

I have embarked on so many new adventures and experiences this year, most recently the nearly unparalleled experience of living remotely in southeast Asia for an equally raucous and gratifying summer. This has been a process of self-discovery often disguised as self-annihilation; a journey through which I've found myself both learning and reaffirming various components of my worldview. In the past month, through facing my own personal demons head on, by listening to the often unimaginable and shattering stories of the people around me, and by absorbing the richness of a culture that is so deliciously far away from my own, I've come away with so much.

Just before I departed on my jungle venture, my mom accused me of running from something. With all my erratic, danger-seeking, non-committal behavior these past few months, I know I’ve caused my parents a great deal of worry. And I definitely agree that I’ve been running… but not away. I’ve been so desperate to “find myself” that I’ve run in every direction possible. This has manifested in the ultimate battle of wills: me against myself. What it’s sadly taken me so long to realize is that there is no winner in this war; either way, I lose. I spent so much time searching for the person I want to be that I never took time to just enjoy being the person I am. And although I know old habits die hard (and thus I won’t change overnight), this was a huge revelation and I like to believe I’ll be a much more fulfilled woman as a result.

There is a Balinese meditation called "four brothers," which is the belief that we are all born with four brothers, intelligence, strength, friendship, and poetry, who guide us through life. While this practice is unique to the tiny Indonesian utopia, the broader concepts of guardian angels and similarly atoned protective spirits are found in every society throughout the world.

The four brothers meditation, however, is particularly special because it provides us a peaceful acceptance of the terms of our lives. By consenting to this truth, we allow ourselves to be free to live a life, precarious as she may be, of both fate and free will.

Discovering the four brothers philosophy has reaffirmed my belief in the important balance between confidence and curiosity; of knowing when to take charge and when to have faith. Not everything can be controlled, but some things must be harvested. The beauty (and the ugly, depending on how you look at it) of life is that sometimes it's up to you, and sometimes it's up to God. Deciphering which rule applies when is the troublesome business.

As a result of this spiritual epiphany, I've learned that the most valuable virtues I must strive for in this lifetime are patience, courage and prayer. Through the attainment of patience, I am releasing anxiety and achieving Zen. In finding my courage, I am learning to live and love life for the moment I am in; the beauty of which allows me to let go of the past and stop panicking about the future. And through prayer, I have found a benevolent, remarkable and deeply personal relationship with God, providing so generously to me an opportunity to make sense of my place in my head, my heart and the world.

I recognize that these virtues are of particular importance, for me, in love. I admit without hesitation that today my heart remains locked tightly in a bitter contest of wills with itself: impatient and terrified and closed-off. But I know that in order to reach the plateau of faith in love that I so desperately desire, I must be patient in knowing that love in my life will be when it's meant to be, and not a moment sooner; I must be fearless in allowing myself to move on when necessary, but also love valiantly and forcefully when necessary; and I must be open to the value of prayer in the process of finding and maintaining love, because without the mind-soul-body balance achievable only through prayer, I will surely never feel enough external balance to recognize, maintain, nor appreciate love when it comes to me.

I’ve grown a great deal in my understanding (acceptance?) of the world. My entire life I've struggled with the karmic concept of fairness. How unfair, that a girl born in rural Laos has no opportunity to see the world beyond her village, while a western man born to money in the US, is granted the luxury to see all of it. How unfair, that a Saudi Arabian woman has no chance to make her own decisions, but a French woman can move about as she pleases. How unfair, that royal bloodlines denote prestige without work, when peasantry demands so much labor without any real compensation.

In this regard I've learned there's no such thing as fairness. There are only existences and circumstances, some of which are lovelier than others (and loveliness is really quite contextual). But what has come most importantly of this revelation is that within this paradox is an international acceptance of the sacredness of beauty, something that is found in and unified by happiness.

I've learned that happiness, once thought to be measured by an arbitrary combination of luck and destiny, is in actuality a tangible calculation of it's pursuit; humanity doesn't merely achieve happiness, nor is it automatically bestowed upon certain peoples. Rather, anyone, anywhere in the world can theoretically and literally secure bliss through understanding the delicate dance between engagement and complacency. We all need to learn to thread that needle of striving for more but being happy with what we already have. And at the end of the day one of the truly miraculous things about life is humanity’s ability to find happiness proportionate to what’s available to us. It almost seems like the less we have, the easier it is to discover and sustain real joy.

I’ll end on this: although much has been learned, much remains unanswered, underdeveloped. I still struggle with tempering my demands for urgency, everywhere, at all times. Great fear continues to grip my heart from time to time. I remain cynical about the prophecy of real, lasting love, and struggle with consistent, effective prayer. My mind still races with discontentment at the endless cycles of social and economic imbalance that exists in this world. Even amidst so much beauty, I sometimes find reasons to be sad… After all, a summer is a deliriously short period of time to have perfected the many things I've learned. But perhaps this is the greatest and most easily attainable lesson of them all: I am not perfect, likely never will be, and must accept and admire that fact.

For isn’t it imperfection that makes life beautiful and valuable? Perfection denotes immortality, which we will never, ever achieve. But who would ever desire immortality? Mortality is what gives life meaning.

So it's okay to cry until your face runs out of tears, or to laugh until your face muscles yearns for relief. The gamut of emotions that we experience are what embellish and celebrate our imperfections, our mortality... our meaningfulness.

Rustic Pathways… still living day-by-day… still no future… future still very dark…

In two days, my work as a Rustic Pathways program leader will be complete and although most of my energy has already gone into writing a final reflection piece (working on the finishing touches; posting tomorrow or Wednesday… and it’s bit of a barn burner if I do say so myself J), I thought it appropriate to jot down some notes on the highlights of week four.

I should’ve read the tea leaves early on in my relationship with Rustic Pathways. The company, for all its good intentions, is poorly managed and disorganized, more often than not leaving major decisions to the last minute. At first, I found this day-to-day lifestyle exciting; I thought it was the perfect remedy to my extremely structured, well-planned life at home.

Within a couple weeks though, I found myself not necessarily homesick, but rather plan-sick. I never knew what was going on more than ten minutes before anything happened, so I could never answer students questions about what we were doing next, and I had no idea which city, or for that matter, which country I could be expected to be in on any given day. The adventure grew to be emotionally nauseating.

That said, I’ve just completed four weeks of day by day travel, allegedly leading groups of students through various parts of the jungle (in actuality it was more an exercise of the blind leading the blind, thankfully, safely), and I am psychologically exhausted.

So like I said, I wanted this prologue to the final post to cover some of the most notable features of my final week of work. As I’ve already mentioned, I really put so much of my soul into the manifest that I’m posting before my departure, so please excuse my laziness in boiling week four down into bullet points:

· Due to poor planning on the company’s part, I was forced to work at elephant camp for a record third week. Typically program leaders are shifted around to different programs throughout their visit, and very rarely does anyone work the same program more than two weeks. It should go without saying that this city girl was physically drained after one week at elephant camp (overloads of bugs, mud, extreme isolation to the tune of living on an island, sleep that requires mosquito nets, etc), so when I was informed that I’d be overseeing a third week, I was less than thrilled. However, since the group is so small, I was given the authority to break up elephant camp a bit and spend more time in the city this time around; this necessary break from elephant isolation brought welcome relief.

· Luckily the new group is made up of only two students and they are considerably easier to live/work with than the last group (remember my lovely bipolar roommate?).

· Because our group was so small this time around, the elephant camp was able to open its doors to more outside visitors, two lovely families and a pair of backpacking twenty-something guys who ended up being hilarious and intellectually stimulating company… one of my favorite moments of the entire trip was a profound exchange between these travelers, an Iranian-Canadian and German, and myself about US defense systems and budgets. After spending the past month with teenagers, however amazing as they are, it was so nice to have a thought-provoking political conversation with my peers.

· Today I indulged in spa treatment number six (two traditional Thai massages, two foot massages, a facial and a body scrub) of the trip. For a total cost of about $65… for all six treatments… ‘nuff said.

· Lastly, I realized today that there are three things I’ll miss most about Laos: first, the sincere graciousness and earnestness of the Lao people (especially the children! Oh the children really tugged at my ovary-strings); second, the carefree, leisurely lifestyle that although throws a bit too much caution into the wind (babies are frequently seen riding in the front of motorcycles without a helmet), allows us to just throw stress into the wind, too; and third (and of least value to me in any way), my extremely fattening habit of visiting the crepe stands every evening (oh how much do I adore my peanut butter and Nutella crepes!).

Tomorrow is a day of total service, as we’ll be offering alms to the monks at sunrise and spending the rest of the day working with Rustic’s rice fields program at a pottery village and a rice village. Wednesday marks the last day of the program, where we’ll trudge back into elephant camp and the girls will take the final ride on their elephants and receive their “official mahout certification” (every student is certified a mahout at the end of the program, which is mostly laughable, since no one really controls those elephants, the actual professional mahouts can barely accomplish that task… but the ceremony is very cute nonetheless). From there, I’ll officially say goodbye to Luang Prabang and begin the loooooong journey home – Luang Prabang à Vientiane à Bangkok à Singapore à Tokyo à finally, so sweetly, Los Angeles.

I can't tell you what it really is, I can only tell you what it feels like

So I know I said this was going to be an intense piece on love, and as much as I hate to disappoint my 13 constituents, it’s just not ready yet. What I have written is honest and at times both heartbreaking and heartening… but it lacks cohesiveness and closure, and I just don’t think I have the emotional wherewithal yet to really tie it together the way I’d like to.

So what you get instead is another banal update from the jungle.

We’re wrapping up another week at elephant camp and the excitement of vacation has long since been replaced by the exhaustion of work. This, my second week living in the jungle amongst the quiet villagers, erratic students and docile elephants, has proven to be an emotionally stirring experience.

The isolation of elephant camp has its ups and downs. Two weeks here has forced me to really tap into the centerpiece of my soul wherein I’m comfortable truly being alone. I’ve gotten to know myself and tested the boundaries of my strength (weakness?) in ways never otherwise possible. Although I am physically, emotionally and spiritually drained after another week in the jungle, I know I am a better person as a result of this experience.

Within moments of arriving back at the camp this week, I knew the group dynamic would be different this time around. This time, I’m the only American counselor on the island, and the group is smaller, only girls, and much more… delicate, to boot.

Upon arrival, one girl had a total emotional meltdown. She felt left out by the group and threw one of the most turbulent tantrums I’ve ever borne witness to. She kicked and screamed that she wanted to talk to her mother, that she wanted to go home, that she hated the world… stopping just short of announcing that the apocalypse was en route and that she was the second coming of Satan herself.

Long story short, she ends up deciding that she’s going to stay after all, and I have the lovely fortune of having to share a hut with her (counselors typically have their own living quarters or share with other counselors)… lucky me. Turns out she has bipolar disorder (amongst other obvious emotional and personality issues), which ultimately means in the context of this experience that she turns on and off like a light switch.

Other incidences of note this week have included my being called on on several occasions to ambush the spiders, roaches and preying manti that invade our huts, cleaning and bandaging a wound that required stitches, tending to severe heat and elephant rashes, and generally serving a position of much greater maintenance than I had to the first time around.

So I reiterate, elephant camp, week two, represents both the turning point in which vacation became work, and the awakening that was oh-so necessary in the physical-emotional-spiritual growth process that I came here to seek.

Now that my last week at elephant camp is coming to a close, and I’m embarking on my final week in southeast Asia, I find myself reflecting on some more pragmatic issues, too. Namely, my return to the states and where my life will pick up after this month-long traverse into a fantasy.

My life in the states picks up with the end of a lease, the nearly 100 percent likelihood of a move, the search for new employment, and the pursuit of passion.

I return home on August 13, my lease expires August 31, and I have a one-way ticket to New York City on September 1. From there, so many things are possible.

I’ve never been a sound decision maker. Not that I make bad decisions, I’m just really bad at making decisions. Nutella or peanut butter on my crepes?! Rush Street or Café Boogaloo for happy hour?! Spend $200 on that to-die-for Bebe dress or $30 on the ehhh Forever 21 dress?! Settle down with Him forever or gamble it all away on a shot at _______ (I have no I idea what I was shooting for, really)?! Stay in LA for the foreseeable future or move to NYC/DC/SF?! Keep teaching or chase some bigger dream?!

From the mindless to the life-altering, I’ve struggled with the decision-making process my entire life. Only recently has it dawned on me that this all stems from my inability to really commit to… anything.

I changed majors three times… only to go to graduate school in a fourth discipline… then become a teacher in a fifth. I’ve pursued at least four careers since 2006. I’ve moved eight times in the past eight years. I left a perfectly functioning, loving, happy relationship for basically no reason.

I recognized my commitment issues awhile ago, which some might say is a magnificent achievement. But now what? Should I attempt to address the causes of my neurosis or just move forward toward recovery and rehabilitation? In this case, is the effect dependent on the cause?

Running out of time at the internet café. Until next time folks…

Simply, Luxury

So here I am, one week into this completely gnarly experience and I left off my last update right before what I imagine will be one of the most haunting and humbling experiences of this entire adventure: Angkor Wat.

We awoke at 4am and made our way to the Angkor Wat complex, where we met our fabulous tour guide, Thai (seriously, he’s amazing. He speaks five languages and is well-versed in world affairs and art, and so so funny). While waiting for the sun to rise over the temple, Thai discussed the history of Angkor Wat, which was built about 800 years ago by King Suryavarman II for the god of preservation, Vishnu. Once the sun began to peak over the top of the main temple, we all sat for a few moments in awe of an experience incomparable to anything most Americans will ever be able relate to. The complex itself is enormous, covering 60 square miles, and the main Wat is simply breathtaking. A large pool precedes the main temple, perfectly reflecting its grandeur as you approach the entrance. Thousands of tourists from all over the world share in this experience together, silently and solemnly taking in all Angkor has to offer before making their ways into the temple’s hundreds of cavernous openings.

I can’t even describe Angkor Wat in real conveyable detail because its depth is something that must be felt and not just seen. Walking slowly through Vishnu’s lair, I often found myself prickled with goosebumps, imagining first the intense amount of labor that went into the Wat’s construction, then really just trying to absorb the intensity of what she stood for. The peace that washed over me as I became lost in my own thoughts while walking through the tomb wasn’t lost on the bits of consciousness that kept me tethered to reality… I indeed had some sort of cryptic spiritual awakening.

The only drawback to the Angkor experience, if there is one, is the many tourists who flank every part of every temple, both physically and spiritually invading one another’s space. The combination of Cambodia’s intense poverty and the droves of foreigners who visit this religious mecca results in a commercialization that seems to detract from the Wats’ real purpose: the sacrifice of earthly possessions in favor spiritual peace and preservation.

After visiting the main temple at Angkor Wat, we moved on to Angkor Thom, where the faces of Jayavarman haunt every angle of every temple. From here, we visited Ta Prohm, where jungle foliage and thick tree roots have become intricate parts of the temples, weeding themselves into the architecture and creating an earth-man historical connection that seems quite fitting to its purpose. Ta Prohm is most famous for being the location of the film Tomb Raider, starring the woman many of you know as my idol: Angelina Jolie. We quickly learned that the fabulous Thai has met Angie on several occasions, concluding (and making all my dreams come true) that she is even more kind, thoughtful and beautiful in person than one can ever imagine.

We spent about half of our day at the Angkor complex and then returned to the main drag of Siem Reap for lunch and preparation for the day’s next adventure: a visit to the “floating villages.” The floating villages are exactly what they sound like: communities that live on a lake, sustaining themselves on platforms built on the water. Many of the villages delight in the hundreds of tourists who visit daily, selling food, gifts and clothing. The village where we stopped indulged our curiosity, introducing us to a vat of catfish that danced when fed, a deck of lazy crocodiles, and a basket of river pythons that we could hold and bond with. The odd floating village experience was made complete when a Vietnamese TV show interviewed me shortly after the local villagers convinced me to eat a fried river bug and then chug a beverage consisting of very potent (yet still unknown) contents.

We spent our last evening in Siem Reap exploring the night market, where the vendors are extremely aggressive. Their aggressiveness is admirably compounded by very impressive English-language skills, making it quite difficult to deny their sales pitches. After getting our fill of the shops, we decided to indulge in yet another bizarre Cambodian experience for the road: the “fish massage.” You pay $2 and stick your feet in a tank filled with little fish that nip at your heels and toes, eating the dead skin and providing endless entertainment. We managed to convince our vendor to let the sole boy in our group, Patrick, get into the tank full body, which was hilarious for all the obvious reasons, and of course, photographically documented.

The next day, we flew to Luang Prabang, Laos, where we remain today. Before we could get out of Siem Reap, however, our flight was delayed several hours, which gave us an opportunity to bond more with our local program leader, Tony. We found out that Tony, who is of Lao descent but is a Thai national, is a hopeless romantic who is divorcing his Thai wife (“the commander who spend all my money”) in favor of a more “respectful, friendly” Cambodian or Lao woman. What we originally thought of as Tony being a player is actually just his very earnest desire to find a woman to love him unconditionally, forever. Can’t knock him for that. J

Once we finally landed in Luang Prabang, we all got traditional Lao massages (much better than the Cambodian massage, I must say) and explored just a bit of the main part of the city for dinner and shopping. We were immediately struck by the stark differences between the Lao locals and Cambodian locals: the Lao people are much more laid back and less aggressive, greeting tourists simply with a friendly “sa ba dee (hello)” rather than the intense Cambodian sales push to anyone who dares to make eye contact with them.

The next day in Luang Prabang, a city that is extremely relaxed, we took a luxuriously long and peaceful boat ride up the Mekong river, visited the Pa Ouk caves and had what Tony described as a “very romantic lunch” on our way back to the city (we’ve come to learn that Tony describes nearly everything as “romantic”). Once back in Luang Prabang, we trekked out to the Kuangsi waterfalls, where a short hike leads to a lagoon and swimming area that is dimpled with European and American tourists excitedly indulging in the rope swing that deposits you into the middle of the water that is filled with the same dead skin-gobbling fish that we met in Cambodia. A waterfall about 25 feet high spills into the lagoon, and many people, YES MYSELF INCLUDED, jump into the water from the top of the fall. It was one of the more intense experiences of my life, particularly profound because I’m terrified of heights and have severe asphyxiation issues… but I survived and I’m proud to say I overcame a couple fears in the process.

On our third day in Laos’ former capital, we visited the old royal palace (Laos has been a communist country since the late 1970s and no longer has a king), which is now the national museum and climbed Phousi (hilariously pronounced “pussy”) mountain, which overlooks the entire city. For $2.50, you can buy a small wicker cage that holds two birds, and release them at the top of the mountain for good luck. After I said a prayer and released my birds, I stood quietly for a few minutes, taking in the view of the Mekong and the Luang Prabang basin, reminding myself of the blessed nature of this experience and feeling overwhelmed by just how lucky I am to be seeing the world from such different eyes than I saw it from less than two weeks ago.

Luang Prabang, as I’ve already mentioned, is a very laid back city with very quiet charm. Dogs and cats meander amongst the people in the streets and the vibe is a unique blend of eastern and western influence, likely a result of the clash between Buddhist principles and French colonization. In all honesty, although it’s a very beautiful place, it’s quite boring (to me) compared to the kaleidoscopic zest of Siem Reap or the charismatic seediness of Phnom Penh.

The highlight of the trip to Luang Prabang for me was yesterday’s sunrise adventure: buying rice, seaweed wraps and tofu patties from street vendors and then serving the food to the hundreds of monks that line up daily for civilian offerings. We spent about an hour barefoot sitting on small stools in the rain, using our hands to supply the holy mens’ bowls. It was a truly stirring and humbling experience, in which we absorbed the very basic and material-free existence that these men live day in and day out, all in the name of reaching purity of spirit and ultimately, nirvana.

Today we embark on our next great adventure, a week learning to bathe, care for and train the endangered elephants of Laos. We’ll be living a much more rustic existence for the next few days so internet access will be scarce, but I’ll certainly document every moment of the experience and will update as much as possible.

Overall, the first week of my Southeast Asian travel adventure has been humbling, enlightening, and inspiring. In just nine days, I’ve grown immensely and challenged myself physically, emotionally and spiritually in ways I would never, ever be able to in even the smallest capacity at home. As I suspected, bouts of homesickness have plagued me from time to time, but being able to share this experience with so many wonderful people, has thankfully minimized those moments. I know that once my time in Asia has expired, I’ll miss everything about this beautiful place so much. And since there’s no guarantee that this experience will ever be duplicated, I’m simply just absorbing each moment, one day at a time.

photos to date

as of now, i'm posting just a few (less than 1/10 of my total since it would take years to upload all of them) photos to facebook, i'll work on getting them uploaded/cross-posted here at some point. so go check 'em out over there!

vic's facebook

Aw Koon Chalan… Lap Lap (“thank you very much… you’re fucking crazy”)

Los Angeles. Tokyo. Singapore. Kuala Lumpur. Phnom Penh. Siem Reap. Five days, 48 hours of travel. Life couldn’t be better. Let’s start from the top.

Herding 17 teenagers through five airports was quite an experience: I battled motion sickness and turbulence anxiety, midair makeout sessions, cane-wielding elderly Asian men with complete disregard for personal space, sketchy Singaporean hotel rooms, endless lines of Sri Lankans with severe body odor, and condescending Cambodian visa distributors… all before even clearing customs at Phnom Penh.

Once we hit the mean streets of Cambodia’s capital, we were immediately struck by the intensity of its traffic. Motorized scooters, “tuk tuks,” taxis, vans and bicycles fight for space amongst what seems like millions of pedestrians. There are no crosswalks or traffic lights and children wander the streets barefoot, nimbly dodging the vehicles zigzagging through their paths.

After about half an hour on the road, we arrived at the Angkor International hotel where we met the group already in-country. New faces excitedly exchanged names and hometowns, quickly tossing luggage into huge rooms that reeked of sewage and lavender, then hitting the town for the first meals of the adventure. Our program group (the first program I’m leading – with local guides who speak Khmer – is “Southeast Asia Explorer”) began at the Mekong River restaurant, where we quickly became locals. We noticed immediately that the Khmer people are amongst the friendliest in the world: lots of smiles, hugs, and laughter.

Back at the hotel after dinner we found that on top of the lovely sewage odor, some of the beds had visitors, aka bed bugs. We were beat and the bugs seemed small enough so we crossed our fingers and hoped for the best. We awoke the next morning with full control of our muscles (read: bugs weren’t poisonous) and headed back to the Mekong River for the $2 breakfast buffet. In the restaurant’s morning light we were accosted by sunglasses pushers competing for space to hustle American tourists for Ray Ban knockoffs (I got three pairs for $5).

After devouring a hearty Cambodian breakfast of fried rice, doughnuts and “lemon juice,” we piled into our 1975 molester vans for our first destination: the Killing Fields.

The Killing Fields were somber to say the least; painfully stirring and tearfully moving to say the most. I openly cried as I stared up at shelf after shelf (17 levels) of human skulls, a forceful and honest visual of the violence perpetuated by the Khmer Rouge, terrorists responsible for wiping out their own population to the tune of 2.5 million people. We walked quietly behind our tour guide, the depth of the countless mass graves, remaining bone chards and pieces of tattered clothing slapping us in the face with the profane reminder of the horror that this country experienced merely 30 years ago.

We left the Killing Fields in deep thought, confused and saddened and angry and guilty all at once that such callous acts were committed in the very same world that we all live in so easily (comparatively, obviously).

The Killing Fields were followed by a visit to the S21 museum, which was once the Khmer Rouge’s prison for “infidels” and “traitors.” Here our tour guide was a woman who worked in the fields under the bloody regime, who's own father was mercilessly tortured and murdered. She described in chilling detail the function of each torture room, including glimpses of her own personal experience living every day first in fear, then in resignation to the lifetime of servitude that lay before her. Beyond the borders of the museum were beggars with missing limbs and faces burned off; another stark reminder of life during, and long after, the guile Khmer Rouge.

We finished the day with a thankfully more lighthearted trip to the National Museum and then the Royal Palace. The National Museum is filled with treasures of the early Khmer Empire, preciously preserved after 25 years of political and civil turmoil. It began to rain for the first time since we arrived while we were at the museum, and it was truly glorious to stare at the statue of Vishnu while absorbing the cool splatters of water that broke up the intense humidity that lays over Phnom Penh like a protective blanket.

Along the walk from the National Museum to the Royal Palace, we found no shortage of visual stimulation: naked babies running lawlessly through the streets, infinite monks mingling seamlessly amongst civilians, hustlers pushing every souvenir, beverage, book and trinket imaginable, and of course, the endlessly aggressive beggars.

Once we arrived at the Royal Palace, we were all thoroughly checked for dress code: no bare knees or shoulders. After passing inspection, we were given a tour of the every building except the Palace itself, because as the raised blue flag indicated, the king was at home and therefore not taking visitors. The Silver Pagoda, an ornate and truly beautiful structure, flanks the king’s quarters. Here we again welcomed the cooling sensation of the rain as it began to pour over our tired, sweaty bodies.

From here we headed home for just a couple hours before it was time to hit the unnecessarily (but fitting) gaudy Phnom Penh mall. A quick dinner of “BB World” fast food was followed by a shopping extravaganza that was highlighted for me personally by “Hollywood CD,” a bootleg DVD store where I scored three TV series (Community, Modern Family and all three seasons of Mad Men) for $15… total.

Back at the hotel we learned to breathe through our mouths so as to not gag from the lingering sewage stench and prepared for the next day’s adventure: the six hour drive from Phnom Penh to Siem Reap, home of the Angkor Wat complex, the world’s largest religious structure (covering 60 square miles).

The drive to Siem Reap was an adventure in itself. The roads, if you can call them that, are made of dirt and are flanked by huts on stilts, malnourished cows, stray dogs, naked children and seemingly endless plots of rice fields and produce vendors. We made two stops along the way: once to meet the native spiders (about three inches long, fun to play with and allegedly delicious to eat when deep fried… I held the spiders but stopped short of ingesting them), and once for a lovely traditional Khmer lunch on the Mekong River basin.

We arrived in Siem Reap around 4pm and had a few hours to kill before dinner so a few of us decided to venture out for a massage. This is where the real fun began (and it still remains to be seen how this saga will end). After washing our feet and directing us upstairs to a sweaty little room with four mattresses on the floor, our Cambodian masseuses proceeded to rub, stand on, crack, bend and poke our bodies for 60 minutes ($5 massage + $5 tip, probably the best deal I’ve ever gotten on anything in my life). The experience quickly turned unforgettable as we made an emotional connection with the ladies purveying our pleasure, combining their broken English with our extremely limited Khmer to find a common bond over laughter, girl talk and music. Turns out our Cambodian brethren love hip hop music and dance clubs and the ladies were very excited to invite us to the “discoteque” and lavished us with little gifts and many hugs, sharing tea and snapping photos post-massage.

Walking through Siem Reap for dinner we agreed that this city had far more mainstream charm than Phnom Penh: SR is seemingly cleaner, more vibrant and trendier than her capital city counterpart. We ate at the Blue Pumpkin, this fabulous little café starring the upstairs “cool lounge,” an all-white restaurant with couches and TV tables for small group dining and a delicious selection of American, Italian and Asian dishes.

After dinner we decided to postpone our masseuse/discoteque adventure to Sunday night as we are waking up at 4am to see the sun rise over Angkor Wat in the morning. When we stopped by to tell our new friends that the night out would have to be delayed, we were accosted by the friendly neighborhood drag queens, who were eager to be photographed with us and proudly called themselves “lady gagas.” Here we received more gifts and hugs from our new friends before finally deciding to call it a night.

Experiencing life alongside the Khmer people for the past two days has been the most moving and personally beneficial experience I’ve had in a very long time, possibly ever. The people of Cambodia are abundantly kind-hearted and resilient, embracing not only the beauty of their own culture, but also the footprints of the outsiders who come into their country, sharing their food, clothes and lives with all of us, and it is my firm belief that none of us, Khmer or American, will ever be the same as a result of these unbelievable experiences.

PS - photos and video to come :)

don't wanna be an american idiot

....see you from Phnom Penh!

making a mockery of v-logging

I'm still learning how to look at the camera, and I don't know what to do about the effed up contrast. And it also took forever to upload so it's a day late. And I'm pretty boring in my delivery. Otherwise, enjoy :D

life: day 9.928

I feel like I've been experiencing this absurd quarter-life crisis for the past six or seven years: I've stumbled through my twenties ambivalently and often recklessly, all in the name of the "search for self." This is absurd for a number of reasons, mostly because the obvious pretentiousness just having a "quarter-life crisis" screams "I'm an entitled brat who has no real problems so I'm obsessed with myself." Also: who has any kind of crisis that lasts this long (besides the occupation of Afghanistan)? So I've decided to finally stop talking about it, and start being about it. I asked myself, what is causing my "crisis" and how can I alleviate this issue?

For as long as I can remember, I've dreamed of seeing the world, of meeting people from everywhere I can possibly imagine, and bonding over the miraculousness of the human experience. I've always been obsessed with people and attempting to live life through their eyes at every opportunity. I love history and sociology and psychology and art and music and books as a direct result of this obsession, and believe every major action we take in our lives is a direct result of the relationships we build. I love both observing and experiencing the development of these relationships.

But my nourishment is also my poison. Although I am practically incapable of having casual relationships with anyone, I make a habit of keeping people just far enough away from me to make a clean break if I have to. I have deeply-seeded commitment issues. I have a very profound fear of investing too deeply in my relationships and I sincerely believe this fear has been the driving force behind the anxiety and insecurity I haven't been able to shake.

So step one in project: shake the crisis is to resolve my intimacy and commitment issues. (I know what you're thinking: easier said than done. But for the sake of my sanity, I'm giving it a go.) Strategically, I'm sure this can be done in several ways; since I tend to be a "flyer" rather than a "fighter," I'm sticking with what I know and going as far away as I can get. I'm thinking it's a bizarre combination of reverse psychology and aversion therapy: isolate myself from the comforts of home and the people who stir my soul until my heart explodes in loneliness.

I'm not sure how effective this strategy will be. However I do know that in the process of testing the hypothesis, I'll begin step two in project: shake the crisis: live a meaningful life with no regrets. I like to think everyone wants to live a meaningful life with no regrets, and that we all have different means of achieving this end. Unsurprisingly, for me this manifests as a very intense desire to experience the world in every corner and from every walk of life. The opportunity to live amongst people who have not only survived war and genocide, famine and poverty... but who have emerged to embrace life with an eagerness and earnestness that I am often too spoiled and too cowardly to even recognize, much less engage in myself, will undoubtedly be immensely transformative.

Finally, I've always had a nagging desire to tell the story of the world from my eyes. Perhaps fulfilling this desire will chip away at the crisis that has debilitated me for so long, and that's why I'm doing all of this. This will require both emotional and practical upkeep (and therefore hopefully address the intimacy and commitment paranoia): I must be vulnerable and sincere in my anecdotes, and I must be committed to posting regularly. I will finally be able to tell the story of life, wherever I am in the world, as it happens. This time will be different from the other haphazard attempts because this time, I'm actually living it... not just talking about living it.