Saturday, April 24, 2010

Lea Huy and farewell...







I have spent five weeks in Sihanoukville; the longest I have spent in one place during all of my travels. It has been a relief to unpack, find comfort in a regular bed, rest in a room that I can decorate with the children's paintings, and occasionally prepare my own meals; an act that feeds my soul. I have immensely enjoyed settling into the town, getting to know locals as friends, and becoming familiar with the daily rhythm of this place.
My last week was spent celebrating the Khmer New Year, a time where everyone travels to their hometown provinces to congregate with family and friends amongst chaotic festivities of play, games, and the notorious baby powder and water balloon (or bucket) fights. CCPP closed for the week after a fantastic celebration with the kids, filled with dancing, screaming, laughter, wetness, powder covering you, and an unbelievable mess at the end. It was definitely an eventful way to say goodbye.
Before some of the volunteers ventured on little excursions for the week, we all piled into a boat and headed to Bamboo Island for the clear turquoise water, wooden bungalows, and phosphorescence. At midnight we glided into the warm sea, like mermaids, and swam with the thousand gleaming lights under a reflecting sky of stars. It was so heavenly.....
After days of relaxing, we decided to be proactive and take advantage of your location by going fishing. I have always wanted to catch my own dinner and had unrealistic hopes that someone would catch a barracuda. After hours of fishing off reefs with our Cambodian style gear, we caught three small silvery fish. They were not necessarily dinner worthy but our pride far out sized our catch!
A few dips in the sea sent us on our return towards land but shortly after we set off the sea started boiling with waves, knocking us around, and the ominous purple clouds told us the ride would not be relaxing. In the distance we could see that we were entering a sheet of rain, loud thunder, and numerous bolts of lightening, none of which you appreciate when your on a small wooden boat in the ocean. Frightening to say the least but we made it back to shore and the sand never felt so good!
We spent the night feasting, drinking, and dancing and by the end of the night (or should I say early morning) I was once again dripping wet and covered in powder, celebrating the New Year and my farewell....

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

easy on the camera....









Sok Dara being saucy.....the boys acting tough at lunch (shortly after the photo was taken they broke out in dance)....beautiful sisters....Srey Lak and her masterpiece

Siha



I have had multiple dreams about adopting Siha. He is a beautiful 6 year old boy who regularly comes to CCPP. Without a common language, it is inevitably hard to communicate but even with this obstacle, Siha and I have an obvious connection. He finds me everyday to say hello and hold my hand, he eagerly shows me his paintings, and requests that we play and swim together. He lives with his family under a tarp in an open field. The walls are made of stacked bricks and the open structure provides little shelter during the rainy seasons afternoon downpours.
My dreams have been so fiercely vivid, that I wake up feeling prepared to change my life and bring him home with me. However, the reality is that he has a home and adoring family who love him. My selfish heart could hardly provide him with the same love he already receives. One of the many things I have learned while working with disadvantaged children is that they are incredibly loyal to their families, no matter what their circumstances are. Siha will just remain one of my amazing experiences working with Cambodian children.....and my biological adoption clock will just have to keep on ticking....

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

cambodia's breakdancing stars....

Cambidian Children's Painting Project













Srey Put and her hula hoop....busy drawing at the temple....focused painters....Chando's almost finished painting of Buddha....playfulness

Life in Sihanoukville...













monks at the temple...serendipity beach...one of many sunsets...a night out with the ladies...a lovely trip away to bamboo island....


Friday, April 2, 2010

three showers kind of day
Sihanoukville is an averaged size town on the coast of Cambodia, four hours from the capital. Most know it as the town of the endless beach party where foreigners and city dwellers come to drink and swim. When you first arrive to the central part of town it bustles with tuk tuks, motos, vans packed with people and random items, noises in every direction, bombarding offers for a ride, and smells that either entice you or make you gag. It is hot and dry, dust rises from the ground and settles on your feet permanently. South of town caters to the westerners; guesthouses, bars, massages, Internet, moto rentals, and Serendipity beach which has lost any amount of quaintness due to the over development of bars and restaurants. At night it glistens with lanterns, candles, twinkle lights, fire dancers, cheap cocktails and beer, and incredibly tasty barbecued seafood. If you walk far enough, you can find a quiet spot under a tree for a good sunbathe, a few chapters in a book, and a warm swim. If you can accept the heat, Otres beach is a 1km walk east and is the quietest of the five beaches in Sihanoukville.

Cambodia is full of contradictions and Sihanoukville is a great place to observe them. Cambodia is in the beginning stages of rebuilding a country completely devastated by one of the worst genocides in recent history. The country struggles with a very weak infrastructure, farm land still loaded with landmines, only a third of the population with access to clean drinking water, and an almost non-existent presence of people over the age of 50, all of which make Cambodia one of the poorest countries in Asia. It is customary for every traveler to witness the unbelievable challenge of being poor in a country that maintains the status of the "have" and "have not's". It is easy to see this in Sihanoukville because it is a tourist destination; there are the hotels that cost $200 dollars a night with shacks behind them that house a family of 13, there are the 'felangs' on the beach who spend $10 dollars a night on booze which would feed a family for a month, but can't be bothered by the beggars on the beach, and there is the obvious proof of who has money by how large your belly is (at least that is what one local pointed out to me).
I was not particularly impressed with the town when I arrived but my purpose here has given be a sense of home. I came to Sihanoukville to volunteer for the Cambodian Children's Painting Project; a non-profit who's objective is to provide vulnerable children with an opportunity to develop their creative skills while having a safe and educational way of making money for their families by selling their paintings in the gallery. Most our kids used to make money by selling bracelets and fruit on the beach, collecting cans, or simply begging. They mainly come from very poor homes and communities that struggle with alcoholism, lack or parental guidance (or parents at all), little to no education, no clean drinking water, inadequate shelter, and inconsistent access to food. Despite their hardships, they show up to CCPP with beautiful bright faces, playfulness, laughter, talent, affection, and a eagerness to paint and sell! The children are so open; their faces glow with their wide smiles, dark sparkling eyes, and eagerness to have fun, be held and acknowledged. They show up in the same torn and stained clothes, mostly with empty bellies, little to no sleep, yet they shine with an unbelievable lightness towards their circumstance. They have a huge responsibility to make an income for their families and at CCPP they can sometimes earn more money than any other family member. It is very heart warming to hear them say they want to be artists when they are older; I just let them know that they already are!

Everyday we have two painting sessions, a English or computer class, lunch, and games. The idea is that they go to school and than come and paint but that is not always the case. There is a rice program for some of the families that offer a week's worth of rice under the condition that the parents send their kids to school and not the streets to sell, especially at night when they are most vulnerable. There is a social worker here who does family and school visits to make sure they are attending. For the most part the kids do go, mainly to learn English, in hope that it will lead to a job. My days are mixed with setting up the paints, preparing boards to paint on, steaching canvas, sewing torn clothes, helping with the English class, sitting on the floor playing games, filing paintings, selling their artwork, building frames, organizing the studio and art materials, helping the kids draw, serving lunch, cleaning, and having fun with the kids on field trips to the beach, the temple, nearby towns, and the movies. I had mix feelings about the work and organization when I started but as my relationship with the children has grown and my connection with a few of them has blossomed, I feel incredibly lucky to have had this experience.
As my days in Sihanoukville are near to an end, I have been reflecting on all that I have learn here, enjoyed here, and will always remember. I will miss buying groceries at the chaotic market in town, the giggles of tuk tuk drivers as they ask if I need a ride, the children on bikes that yell "CCPP!!!!" as I pass them on the streets, the hot and humid nights on the balcony playing cards and drinking, getting to know our neighbors and shopkeepers, buying strong ice coffee from the garage out back, barbecued seafood, sunset walks....and the hope that I have made an impact on the children here as much as they have on me. It will be very difficult to say goodbye...

Friday, March 26, 2010

Portraits








































Traveling has brought me many things, including some troublesome adventure...

It was my last day on Koh Chang island with my dear friend Emily and we decided to rent a motorbike to explore the island with our English friends. We had been quite lazy enjoying the sea and the sand, tanning ourselves, reading books, and eating and drinking ourselves silly. This was the most proactive decision we had made all week! We rented the bike where our friends had and with a vague explanation of how to use the machine, we hopped on and were slowly off down the road, adrenaline feeding the engine. As I held on to Emily's hips she became a natural; I could feel her muscles loosen as she became a more confident driver. Koh Chang is notorious for its mountains, making the journey to each beach a curvy and steep ride. As we attempted to climb a hill, our bodies and bike almost vertical, a sharp turn took advantage of our speed and, in slow motion, the wheels were taken from under us, we crashed to the ground, slid across the pavement, into the other lane and into the ditch. It happen so quickly and so slow; I could see it all happening. My thoughts were so present..."ok, we're not making this turn, ok now the bike is tipping, ok now I am on the ground, ok now i can feel the cement on my skin, keep your head up natalie, ok now i am in a ditch, ok now i hurt, uhhhhhhh". We were both shocked but peeled ourselves off the ground and to our feet, brushing dirt and leaves off, and examining where the sharp, burning pain was coming from. We both had our fair share of road burn caked in dirt and we both were extremely lucky that there was no oncoming traffic to make our injuries worse. With the help of our friends that were following behind us, we made it back down the hill and to the pharmacy where they cleaned us up and we bought them out of bandages and antibacterial cream. It was incredibly painful to be cleaned up; from the intense pain and overwhelming emotional pressure in my chest, all I could do was hold Emily's hand and cry.
Unfortunately, there was no resting and healing on the island for me. The next day, as bandaged as I could be, I limped my way to a taxi, a airport, a change in flights, another airport, a tuk tuk, and into a guesthouse in Phomn Penh, Cambodia where I was going to start my time volunteering. That night, alone in my room, I slowly stripped my leg of its bandages to observe how my injury had managed the day. I knew that something wasn't right; could it be infected? why is it SO swollen? Am I just so emotional I cannot see right? The next day, as I was on a four hour bus ride to the coastal town that I would settle in, my leg throbbed, and my continual explanation to onlookers was getting to me. I arrived to the volunteer house, introduced myself and almost passed out. My leg was swollen like a papaya, throbbing like a heartbeat, burning, stinging, and forcing me onto the couch. The other volunteers circled me and said that sure enough, it's infected and I need some serious clean up. I spent the next fews days either in bed or on the couch, hobbling from one to the other. I would say the most painful part was when the bandage stuck to the wound and I had to rip off the developing scab. Not only did is hurt like nothing I had felt before, I was also alone in a hot room, feeling very isolated and depressed; all I needed was something familiar and comforting.
It has been three weeks and my scabs have fallen off and my sprained knee is begining to give me more movement. I can swim in the ocean now, without fear of more infection (the water is WAY to warm here for the salt water to be healing), and go on walks without feeling sore. I still cannot fully straighten or bend me knee but that will only take time and patience. I have some awesome large scars that sorta match my birthmark on my other leg and a good story. Most importantly, I have a new perspective on how blessed I am to have my body and mobility, with all that I can do with it, I lead an amazing life.....
The photos above are first of my scar, the infection, and the swollen leg on the second night.

Thursday, March 18, 2010

stories reeling in my mind.....

Now that I am settled in Sihanoukville, my mind is dancing in the past memories and stories I have lived in such a short amount of time. I am surprised and interested in how and why certain experiences affected me more, how my openness and expectations served or failed me, and how I can preserve my new insight so it takes me even further into my travels. Again, I am uncertain how I can describe everything so it offers you a glimpse into my life; I will just have to settle with the images and moments that I retrace often...........

One arm holding onto the safety handle, the other cradling my dear friend as her head lays on my lap as she tries to find peace on the ferocious ride to Luang Prabang from Luang Nam tha. It is hot and dusty in the van, my window is open offering me no relief, and the driver is taking us on what feels like a suicidal mission ride; dodging trucks, children on bikes, stray dogs, and the edge of the road. I wonder, is this my last ride? How will my family know what has happened? Am I ready? What morbid thoughts! After the first four hours, we reached a place for lunch. I barely enjoyed my soup, head between my legs to prepare for the next few hours...Luang Prabang better be worth it! (and it was!)

Guided down a narrow walkway, led by our new friend, we are bombarded with smells of fermented fish, fried coconut and bananas, stir fried noodles, jeow, barbecued fish and chicken, offers of beer lao and a good deal. We gather tastes of everything to satisfy our bellies. We tell tales of travel and home. As we walk through the night market we are tempted to purchase wooden bowls, silk textiles, bags, t-shirts that obviously state your status as a "felong", handicrafts, laolao, silver jewelry, and much more...but leave empty handed with the promise that it will repeat the next night. As the town quiets for the night, we grab beers and head to the Mekong riverbed, dry like a dessert, and so inviting for moon gazing, star counting, and late night giggles and caress....

Cold terra cotta tiles are my only relief as I lay defeated on the bathroom floor. My only vision is a porcelain bowl. Everything I have consumed the last few weeks leaves my body over and over from every direction until I have nothing left except the few drops of water I sip to revive me but again my body rejects it. Emily sits behind me on the floor, her hand on my back brings me so much comfort. I feel so thankful to have her with me otherwise this moment, or these hours, would feel so lonely.




fish steaming in a banana leaf, a dish I learned in a lao cooking class.....our bungalow on a lagoon on koh chang.....one of the rivers that hug luang prabang.....river crossing into laos.....

a mixture from days past






doing what i do best....chaing mai on the river....adorable little girl at a flower festival in the mountains of northern thailand....early morning offerings for the monks....temple at sukhothai




market in luang prabang.....a magical swimming hole above and below a waterfall, mermaids looking out into the jungle.....silk worms feasting.....rice patties drying....

Friday, March 12, 2010





streets of Luang Prabang....mosaic temple......offerings.......drunk from lao lao, up too many stairs at a temple and trying to smile pretty, without laughing....