Friday, February 23, 2007
Short Term Outreach
Hello everyone! Sorry I didn’t have time to write last week. Things were so busy, and we were getting ready for short term outreach, which was AMAZING!
My team went to Poipet – which is on the Thai border. Poipet grew in less than 7 years from 10,000 people to 100,000. It is hot. And dusty. There are no jobs. No economy. The people there, from what we were told, are hopeless. And they have no way out. In the no-man’s-land between Thailand and Cambodia there is a strip of Casinos. Prostitution, gambling and organized crime are huge. And that’s just what we knew going in. It doesn’t begin to describe what the town is actually like, because all of the stuff we were told, we never saw firsthand. But I get ahead of myself.
We left Battambang by bus, arriving in Poipet in the late afternoon. It was hot. It’s the dry season in Cambodia. The roads in poipet are unpaved, so a hot cloud of fine dust fills the air behind every car, tok tok, and moto. We got off the bus and into a tok tok (a moto with a cart attached to the frame – should hold maybe 5 people, we often fit 11), and went to meet our contact. Joel is a lone wolf missionary, starting and running four churches, an HIV outreach, and several children’s programs out of his house, as well as guitar and English lessons. We found out before we left that there was no place to stay at the churches (Westerners – get the idea of a church building out of your mind. Think a hut on poles with the roof falling in, with 20 people sitting in a circle while the owner of the house chops up raw chicken behind you –that’s CHURCH here), so the Cambodian pastor took us to a guest house that wasn’t too bad. (NB. If a Khmer person says “not too bad” or “delicacy” – expect trouble) It wasn’t too bad. We rented two rooms in a cheap guest house. The corner of each room was cut out into an all in one bathroom – meaning a squatty potty and a spigot with a bucket underneath. That is both your means of ‘flushing’ the toilet, and your shower. The walls and floor are tiled, and the bathroom walls do not meet the ceiling. The rest of the room is a side table made of scrap wood with a piece of pressed board thumbtacked to the top, two wooden slat beds, and one mosquito net. Bopa and I had each bought a personal net before we left, which was good, because the room had a cockroach infestation that we only controlled, but never eliminated. We walked into this room, which had not been cleaned in some time, and were told that we were going to clean our guest house. I never expected to spend my first hour as a missionary scrubbing down a squatty potty with some toilet cleaner and a foot cleaning brush. The other three girls killed cockroaches, swept up dead bugs, drenched the floors with water and mopped. I took my mattress (very stained) outside and beat the dust out with a stick. Then we covered them up with a (hopefully) clean sheet, hung our mosquito nets from screws above the headboard, and wrapped our bedding in them to keep the cockroaches out.
So that's the 'bad' part -- but it really wasn't. In the beginning when we walked in, for one second my mind thought, oh dear GOD, how can we live here. The first cockroach sent us all screaming for the opposite side of the room. But after four days we just shrugged, slapped them to the floor and sprayed the SNOT out of them with a can of Raid someone bought and watched them writhe. HA. Stupid roaches. Honestly the Khmer can't figure out why some bugs bother us westerners more than others. I had to explain that in my country (we start a lot of sentences that way) having cockroaches means a place is very dirty and not well cared for. Here, it's just part of the scenery most places. Oh, and we saw a spider the size of my hand when fully spread. I kept thinking how glad I am that Mom wasn't there, and several Khmer were thinking how good it would taste deep fried. Ah, culture.
After we finished cleaning we got in another Tok Tok and drove out to a village church -- again, think ramshackle hut with 30 people crowded in. We sang some songs, played a few games, and prayed for a little girl that had a tooth infection that hadn't been cared for, and now was spreading through her face. And, we also made arrangements to get the girl to an American doctor working in a Christian hospital for free medical treatment. The Khmer doctor had given the girl...painkillers. The village was amazingly bad. All the children wear all that clothing that American Thrift Shops deem too bad to sell and bale up and ship to Asia for several cents a pound. I asked Sam if the people here ever see the irony -- that they make all the clothes, then ship them to America where we wear them completely out, then sell them back to Asians to wear as rags. Sam said they are too poor to notice. The children are so easy to love -- even the dirty ones crawling with lice. The small children usually run around naked, or with just a shirt on...why bother clothing the bottom half when all clothes have to be washed by hand...the children just squat where they stand to pee. Flea infested dogs run in and out of the shacks, as well as chickens. The women usually wear brightly colored beautiful cotton sarongs with a button up shirt (it never matches...it's a thing here, the more patterns the better). You see very few men. A whole generation of Men were killed off by the Khmer rouge, so fathers are scarce. And often they have to move elsewhere to work. Most of the children are dreadfully unschooled -- one 17 year old boy was in the third grade. Many will drop out to get a job if they do go to school. University here is expensive, so many children cannot see the use of continuing their education beyond elementary level, since they cannot afford college anyway, and their family desperately needs the income.
There is much more to tell, so, to be continued. That was just the first day...
My team went to Poipet – which is on the Thai border. Poipet grew in less than 7 years from 10,000 people to 100,000. It is hot. And dusty. There are no jobs. No economy. The people there, from what we were told, are hopeless. And they have no way out. In the no-man’s-land between Thailand and Cambodia there is a strip of Casinos. Prostitution, gambling and organized crime are huge. And that’s just what we knew going in. It doesn’t begin to describe what the town is actually like, because all of the stuff we were told, we never saw firsthand. But I get ahead of myself.
We left Battambang by bus, arriving in Poipet in the late afternoon. It was hot. It’s the dry season in Cambodia. The roads in poipet are unpaved, so a hot cloud of fine dust fills the air behind every car, tok tok, and moto. We got off the bus and into a tok tok (a moto with a cart attached to the frame – should hold maybe 5 people, we often fit 11), and went to meet our contact. Joel is a lone wolf missionary, starting and running four churches, an HIV outreach, and several children’s programs out of his house, as well as guitar and English lessons. We found out before we left that there was no place to stay at the churches (Westerners – get the idea of a church building out of your mind. Think a hut on poles with the roof falling in, with 20 people sitting in a circle while the owner of the house chops up raw chicken behind you –that’s CHURCH here), so the Cambodian pastor took us to a guest house that wasn’t too bad. (NB. If a Khmer person says “not too bad” or “delicacy” – expect trouble) It wasn’t too bad. We rented two rooms in a cheap guest house. The corner of each room was cut out into an all in one bathroom – meaning a squatty potty and a spigot with a bucket underneath. That is both your means of ‘flushing’ the toilet, and your shower. The walls and floor are tiled, and the bathroom walls do not meet the ceiling. The rest of the room is a side table made of scrap wood with a piece of pressed board thumbtacked to the top, two wooden slat beds, and one mosquito net. Bopa and I had each bought a personal net before we left, which was good, because the room had a cockroach infestation that we only controlled, but never eliminated. We walked into this room, which had not been cleaned in some time, and were told that we were going to clean our guest house. I never expected to spend my first hour as a missionary scrubbing down a squatty potty with some toilet cleaner and a foot cleaning brush. The other three girls killed cockroaches, swept up dead bugs, drenched the floors with water and mopped. I took my mattress (very stained) outside and beat the dust out with a stick. Then we covered them up with a (hopefully) clean sheet, hung our mosquito nets from screws above the headboard, and wrapped our bedding in them to keep the cockroaches out.
So that's the 'bad' part -- but it really wasn't. In the beginning when we walked in, for one second my mind thought, oh dear GOD, how can we live here. The first cockroach sent us all screaming for the opposite side of the room. But after four days we just shrugged, slapped them to the floor and sprayed the SNOT out of them with a can of Raid someone bought and watched them writhe. HA. Stupid roaches. Honestly the Khmer can't figure out why some bugs bother us westerners more than others. I had to explain that in my country (we start a lot of sentences that way) having cockroaches means a place is very dirty and not well cared for. Here, it's just part of the scenery most places. Oh, and we saw a spider the size of my hand when fully spread. I kept thinking how glad I am that Mom wasn't there, and several Khmer were thinking how good it would taste deep fried. Ah, culture.
After we finished cleaning we got in another Tok Tok and drove out to a village church -- again, think ramshackle hut with 30 people crowded in. We sang some songs, played a few games, and prayed for a little girl that had a tooth infection that hadn't been cared for, and now was spreading through her face. And, we also made arrangements to get the girl to an American doctor working in a Christian hospital for free medical treatment. The Khmer doctor had given the girl...painkillers. The village was amazingly bad. All the children wear all that clothing that American Thrift Shops deem too bad to sell and bale up and ship to Asia for several cents a pound. I asked Sam if the people here ever see the irony -- that they make all the clothes, then ship them to America where we wear them completely out, then sell them back to Asians to wear as rags. Sam said they are too poor to notice. The children are so easy to love -- even the dirty ones crawling with lice. The small children usually run around naked, or with just a shirt on...why bother clothing the bottom half when all clothes have to be washed by hand...the children just squat where they stand to pee. Flea infested dogs run in and out of the shacks, as well as chickens. The women usually wear brightly colored beautiful cotton sarongs with a button up shirt (it never matches...it's a thing here, the more patterns the better). You see very few men. A whole generation of Men were killed off by the Khmer rouge, so fathers are scarce. And often they have to move elsewhere to work. Most of the children are dreadfully unschooled -- one 17 year old boy was in the third grade. Many will drop out to get a job if they do go to school. University here is expensive, so many children cannot see the use of continuing their education beyond elementary level, since they cannot afford college anyway, and their family desperately needs the income.
There is much more to tell, so, to be continued. That was just the first day...
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Funny Stories of Cambodia
Some Funny Stories
...about translating: Our classes are all in Khmai and English, with two more people writing outlines on the board in both languages. The other day the lessons were picking up pace, both teacher and translator were getting revved up. The (English speaking) teacher drew a dot on the board to illustrate a point...and the Khmai writer drew a dot over the Khmai side. Because that needed translating. The same thing has also happened with a smiley face.
...about showering. The weather is finally (ugh) hot again so we don't have to do the "Shower Hokey Pokey" in the mornings (You know, you put your right arm in....you put your left arm in...you put your head in).
...about sleeping. I'm the only person in the room who wants the fan on. Apparently 88 degrees is too cold for a fan.
...about translating: Our classes are all in Khmai and English, with two more people writing outlines on the board in both languages. The other day the lessons were picking up pace, both teacher and translator were getting revved up. The (English speaking) teacher drew a dot on the board to illustrate a point...and the Khmai writer drew a dot over the Khmai side. Because that needed translating. The same thing has also happened with a smiley face.
...about showering. The weather is finally (ugh) hot again so we don't have to do the "Shower Hokey Pokey" in the mornings (You know, you put your right arm in....you put your left arm in...you put your head in).
...about sleeping. I'm the only person in the room who wants the fan on. Apparently 88 degrees is too cold for a fan.
Friday, February 09, 2007
Another Week goes by
Another week has gone by.
I am learning so much I am exhausted. It feels like summer camp. You make a lot of progress, you learn a lot, you spend every waking moment seeking God and learning about him, and then you go back to "real life" and nothing much has changed. But I want things to change, things were not working at home, and I came here hoping that things would not be the same as before, and that i would really hear God finally, after so long of not hearing much, but I'm afraid that once it is all over, not much will have changed.
Today I am afraid to blog. I have started to read what I am blogging and emailing and think, what will people think of me? Am I beginning to sound like all of those 'religious' people that I tire of in about five minutes because they won't shut up and talk about anything else? And am I only saying 'godly' things now because the atmosphere of where i live is rubbing off on me, and this is all 'just a phase' and as soon as I go home I'll look back at everything I wrote and be self-conscious. Like all of those youth retreats and summer camps you go to as a teenager where you come home all fired up for God, having learned all sorts of new things, and the second you get home you kind of forget. And I don't want to only say things to fit in, to look 'super-spiritual' but only be saying the words and not be doing the actions. Today all of the things I've learned this week seem very far away, and it seems like a very Screwtape Letters moment: "And don't forget those blessed words; just a phase!" I know it is real. I have heard God this week. And I have spent a lot of energy trying to obey him when i hear him. And today I am worn out, and it feels like it was all in my head. I'm telling you all this in case you're getting skeptical that this is just a phase. Even now I step back and look at myself, and what i'm praying and learning and think, Is that really me?
My time here has been very good so far. This week we've heard from Garth and Dina on "Hearing the Voice of God." That's the same talk I heard last spring and was so excited about...and it's been amazing to hear it again when I'm more ready to listen. (As a sidenote, i'm sorry about all the spelling mistakes and lack of capitalization on both my emails and my blog. These keyboards have a mind of their own)
Some things that have been learned this week: Alissa and I were given a class to team teach an English class. We both know that we are strong minded, and that we needed to keep open communication. But we both agreed that the only way we could teach together was to completely divide up the days, because we both knew that we could be friends, but not work together. Then on tuesday, Molly sprung the lesson on us, and told us to go for it. It was a train wreck. We both tried to be in charge, I got my nose out of joint when she asked me to write stuff on the board while she taught, and I got so frustrated standing there doing nothing while she wrote that I sat down and let her have it. I was miffed because I've been a teacher, and she was using slang and contractions, and being their pal and that is NOT a good teaching style. We sat down by each other and she muttered to me, "This is NOT going to work." We did not talk about it for several days, except to say that we needed to talk about it. I don't know what God was telling Alissa, but I watched Garth and Dina co-lead. When one was teaching, the other would write things on the board, be supportive, and jump in if the other asked for help. Neither one was more important, and each was there to serve the other in any way they needed. That struck me. And one day they talked about when Jesus told his disciples that anyone who wanted to be first needed to be the last, and if someone wants to be great, they need to serve most of all. I was convicted. I prayed desperately every day to PLEASE make this work. And I wasn't given any ideas, except that I knew that God didn't want us to avoid conflict by avoiding teaching together, but he wanted us to co-lead, like Garth and Dina. And I knew he wanted me to go into our meeting and confess to Alissa how prideful I'd been, and how I thought that I needed to be in charge because she didn't know anything, and offer to serve her in any way she wanted from now on. Thursday Molly sent us out to plan our lesson for our first class on Friday. We went to the White Rose for a smoothie. We agreed that we needed to pray. (I really didn't want to confess unless Alissa was going to) I told Alissa everything, and offered to serve her any way I could. And you know, God told her the exact same thing to say to me. And once we were coming from the position of serving each other, we were able to work together and plan our lesson, and put God at the forfront, and we were even given our lesson plan -- a lesson on our strenghts and weaknesses, and how we need to work together. Pretty cool how that worked out. Now we just need to not get cocky about how well it went, and remember the same thing every single lesson. And we didn't have to divide day by day, we were able to team teach, and no one got offended, and no one got stepped on. We both had our parts of the lesson planned, and the other person was there to assist. And it worked beautifully.
One other small lesson, maybe I'll talk more about it later, because it's been difficult for me. I'm learning to do things when I think God is telling me to do them -- and he LOVES to send me things anytime I start feeling that a certain bank of time is MY TIME. For example, one afternoon I was lying in bed gloating over MY TIME, and I could hear my roomate loofahing her feet. I'd offered all of my friends a pedicure whenever they wanted it, but she wasn't there, and I hadn't offered her. And I felt like I should go give her a pedicure. I tried to ignore it. Go give her a pedicure. Not NOW! I'm so TIRED! Go give her a pedicure. I tried to wiggle around it, and told her with my eyes closed,"If you ever want me to paint your toes, let me know." Go down there NOW and give her a pedicure. Fine. "Would you like me to paint your toes now?" Yes she did. And while I did it, she was able to tell me how she was feeling, and where she was struggling, and I knew in some ways I could help her with a few of them. And I prayed for her, and went back to my nap. And if I'd kept fighting, I would have missed a really good opportunity to get to know the heart of a person i'd had difficulty connecting to, before. That's the kind of practical lessons you learn here ALL the TIME. And be sure not to think I'm wonderful. There are TONS of things i don't want to do very badly, and whine, and complain, and try to get out of. But each time i learn something...and maybe someday I'll get better at listening the first time...
I am learning so much I am exhausted. It feels like summer camp. You make a lot of progress, you learn a lot, you spend every waking moment seeking God and learning about him, and then you go back to "real life" and nothing much has changed. But I want things to change, things were not working at home, and I came here hoping that things would not be the same as before, and that i would really hear God finally, after so long of not hearing much, but I'm afraid that once it is all over, not much will have changed.
Today I am afraid to blog. I have started to read what I am blogging and emailing and think, what will people think of me? Am I beginning to sound like all of those 'religious' people that I tire of in about five minutes because they won't shut up and talk about anything else? And am I only saying 'godly' things now because the atmosphere of where i live is rubbing off on me, and this is all 'just a phase' and as soon as I go home I'll look back at everything I wrote and be self-conscious. Like all of those youth retreats and summer camps you go to as a teenager where you come home all fired up for God, having learned all sorts of new things, and the second you get home you kind of forget. And I don't want to only say things to fit in, to look 'super-spiritual' but only be saying the words and not be doing the actions. Today all of the things I've learned this week seem very far away, and it seems like a very Screwtape Letters moment: "And don't forget those blessed words; just a phase!" I know it is real. I have heard God this week. And I have spent a lot of energy trying to obey him when i hear him. And today I am worn out, and it feels like it was all in my head. I'm telling you all this in case you're getting skeptical that this is just a phase. Even now I step back and look at myself, and what i'm praying and learning and think, Is that really me?
My time here has been very good so far. This week we've heard from Garth and Dina on "Hearing the Voice of God." That's the same talk I heard last spring and was so excited about...and it's been amazing to hear it again when I'm more ready to listen. (As a sidenote, i'm sorry about all the spelling mistakes and lack of capitalization on both my emails and my blog. These keyboards have a mind of their own)
Some things that have been learned this week: Alissa and I were given a class to team teach an English class. We both know that we are strong minded, and that we needed to keep open communication. But we both agreed that the only way we could teach together was to completely divide up the days, because we both knew that we could be friends, but not work together. Then on tuesday, Molly sprung the lesson on us, and told us to go for it. It was a train wreck. We both tried to be in charge, I got my nose out of joint when she asked me to write stuff on the board while she taught, and I got so frustrated standing there doing nothing while she wrote that I sat down and let her have it. I was miffed because I've been a teacher, and she was using slang and contractions, and being their pal and that is NOT a good teaching style. We sat down by each other and she muttered to me, "This is NOT going to work." We did not talk about it for several days, except to say that we needed to talk about it. I don't know what God was telling Alissa, but I watched Garth and Dina co-lead. When one was teaching, the other would write things on the board, be supportive, and jump in if the other asked for help. Neither one was more important, and each was there to serve the other in any way they needed. That struck me. And one day they talked about when Jesus told his disciples that anyone who wanted to be first needed to be the last, and if someone wants to be great, they need to serve most of all. I was convicted. I prayed desperately every day to PLEASE make this work. And I wasn't given any ideas, except that I knew that God didn't want us to avoid conflict by avoiding teaching together, but he wanted us to co-lead, like Garth and Dina. And I knew he wanted me to go into our meeting and confess to Alissa how prideful I'd been, and how I thought that I needed to be in charge because she didn't know anything, and offer to serve her in any way she wanted from now on. Thursday Molly sent us out to plan our lesson for our first class on Friday. We went to the White Rose for a smoothie. We agreed that we needed to pray. (I really didn't want to confess unless Alissa was going to) I told Alissa everything, and offered to serve her any way I could. And you know, God told her the exact same thing to say to me. And once we were coming from the position of serving each other, we were able to work together and plan our lesson, and put God at the forfront, and we were even given our lesson plan -- a lesson on our strenghts and weaknesses, and how we need to work together. Pretty cool how that worked out. Now we just need to not get cocky about how well it went, and remember the same thing every single lesson. And we didn't have to divide day by day, we were able to team teach, and no one got offended, and no one got stepped on. We both had our parts of the lesson planned, and the other person was there to assist. And it worked beautifully.
One other small lesson, maybe I'll talk more about it later, because it's been difficult for me. I'm learning to do things when I think God is telling me to do them -- and he LOVES to send me things anytime I start feeling that a certain bank of time is MY TIME. For example, one afternoon I was lying in bed gloating over MY TIME, and I could hear my roomate loofahing her feet. I'd offered all of my friends a pedicure whenever they wanted it, but she wasn't there, and I hadn't offered her. And I felt like I should go give her a pedicure. I tried to ignore it. Go give her a pedicure. Not NOW! I'm so TIRED! Go give her a pedicure. I tried to wiggle around it, and told her with my eyes closed,"If you ever want me to paint your toes, let me know." Go down there NOW and give her a pedicure. Fine. "Would you like me to paint your toes now?" Yes she did. And while I did it, she was able to tell me how she was feeling, and where she was struggling, and I knew in some ways I could help her with a few of them. And I prayed for her, and went back to my nap. And if I'd kept fighting, I would have missed a really good opportunity to get to know the heart of a person i'd had difficulty connecting to, before. That's the kind of practical lessons you learn here ALL the TIME. And be sure not to think I'm wonderful. There are TONS of things i don't want to do very badly, and whine, and complain, and try to get out of. But each time i learn something...and maybe someday I'll get better at listening the first time...
Friday, February 02, 2007
Settling In
Settling In
So we've been here a week now. This week has been somewhat long ... orientation and going through the handbook is never the most exciting part of a new program. We did have our first guest speaker -- Darlene Cunningham, the founder of YWAM. She was very good. We're reading her husband's book "Ís that really you God?"about the founding of YWAM back in 1960. It was good to hear the stories from the person IN person. I'm very much of an "I won't believe it unless I put my hand in his side" sort of person. It's hard for me to take someone's word for it. I'll publish a summary of her talk once I finish editing my notes -- oh how I love taking notes. I'm getting to be a bit notorious about my notebooks. I have my mini-spending log, my Khmai book, my Lectures book, my Lewis quote book, my Quiet Time journal, my personal journal, and the DTS journal we give to our small group leader once a week (feels a bit like AA that part). If Miles was worried that I'm not writing enough...
Teri! I forgot to tell you. Last week I went to the Assembly of God church. Our Khmai is bad, so we thought we were misunderstanding when people kept telling us, "It's Christmas today." After the service they took all the kids out to the classroom, and brought out the Operation Christmas Child boxes. (I looked, but I didn't see any of ours...I was hoping God would do a joke on us that way) I saw them get handed out, Teri!
A few days ago I asked Phally, my roommate to go to the market with me. It was my first extended one-on-one time with one of the new students. Phally is from Phnom Penh, and it is her first time in Battambang. I needed to go to the bookshop to get a new pen, and she wanted to buy some shoes at the Psah (market). True to Cambodian form, as we walked down the street together, she reached over and took my hand. "Oh my," I thought, "This means something totally different in my country." And we walked together, hand in hand. It was odd how it didn't feel odd. And no one was looking at us. I got a little uncomfortable with the close proximity after a while, and sort of shifted my big carry-all shoulder bag I bought so it was between us. Didn't stop her...she put her arm through mine and we walked, purses clunking, all over town. I am trying to adjust. I really am. I'm trying to get used to total strangers hugging me. I have not, yet, had anyone crawl into bed with me (Jessica has), or, for some unexplained reason, had someone pat my posterior for several minutes...Alissa still can't explain that. I think they know that Westerners are very private, but that doesn't seem to phase them at all. Wow, guys, by the time I come home I might actually be affectionate...wouldn't that be a nice change for my family?
Oh, and more lessons on food. Why is it FOOD is the hardest thing about being here. It's like the little girl with the curl. "When she was good she was very, very good; and when she was bad, she was horrid." I know I can plan on lunch of fruit and bread if someone uses the word 'delicacy.' Code word for - unpalatable for the Western Tongue. But, rice porridge with sugar and cinnamon, excellent for breakfast. Rice with sugar is a good dessert. Almost any soup can become a sauce when poured over rice. Avoid any dish where the meat has been chopped up with the bones in. Fish is not often deboned. Fried egg and fried rice days are always the best. Ramen with Chili powder is our Sunday Morning breakfast treat. Banana chips are a totally different animal when dried fresh and sprinkled with sugar. 'Se-yung' sauce (sweet chili sauce -- coined with the name of the person who won a contest last year of who could drink the most straight out of a cup) makes every meal great. And if push comes to shove, there's always fresh fruit and num-pung from the bakery.
This week we finally will be in our 'regularly scheduled activities' so we should start feeling at home here. I already do. Minus the dirt and the occaisional whiff of I-don't-want-to-know-what from the street.
Oh, and I've been assigned teaching an English Class for my work duty. We've been observing (Alissa is my co-teacher) but we'll start taking over the class after next week. 30-40 students at the intermediate level. How cool is that?
So we've been here a week now. This week has been somewhat long ... orientation and going through the handbook is never the most exciting part of a new program. We did have our first guest speaker -- Darlene Cunningham, the founder of YWAM. She was very good. We're reading her husband's book "Ís that really you God?"about the founding of YWAM back in 1960. It was good to hear the stories from the person IN person. I'm very much of an "I won't believe it unless I put my hand in his side" sort of person. It's hard for me to take someone's word for it. I'll publish a summary of her talk once I finish editing my notes -- oh how I love taking notes. I'm getting to be a bit notorious about my notebooks. I have my mini-spending log, my Khmai book, my Lectures book, my Lewis quote book, my Quiet Time journal, my personal journal, and the DTS journal we give to our small group leader once a week (feels a bit like AA that part). If Miles was worried that I'm not writing enough...
Teri! I forgot to tell you. Last week I went to the Assembly of God church. Our Khmai is bad, so we thought we were misunderstanding when people kept telling us, "It's Christmas today." After the service they took all the kids out to the classroom, and brought out the Operation Christmas Child boxes. (I looked, but I didn't see any of ours...I was hoping God would do a joke on us that way) I saw them get handed out, Teri!
A few days ago I asked Phally, my roommate to go to the market with me. It was my first extended one-on-one time with one of the new students. Phally is from Phnom Penh, and it is her first time in Battambang. I needed to go to the bookshop to get a new pen, and she wanted to buy some shoes at the Psah (market). True to Cambodian form, as we walked down the street together, she reached over and took my hand. "Oh my," I thought, "This means something totally different in my country." And we walked together, hand in hand. It was odd how it didn't feel odd. And no one was looking at us. I got a little uncomfortable with the close proximity after a while, and sort of shifted my big carry-all shoulder bag I bought so it was between us. Didn't stop her...she put her arm through mine and we walked, purses clunking, all over town. I am trying to adjust. I really am. I'm trying to get used to total strangers hugging me. I have not, yet, had anyone crawl into bed with me (Jessica has), or, for some unexplained reason, had someone pat my posterior for several minutes...Alissa still can't explain that. I think they know that Westerners are very private, but that doesn't seem to phase them at all. Wow, guys, by the time I come home I might actually be affectionate...wouldn't that be a nice change for my family?
Oh, and more lessons on food. Why is it FOOD is the hardest thing about being here. It's like the little girl with the curl. "When she was good she was very, very good; and when she was bad, she was horrid." I know I can plan on lunch of fruit and bread if someone uses the word 'delicacy.' Code word for - unpalatable for the Western Tongue. But, rice porridge with sugar and cinnamon, excellent for breakfast. Rice with sugar is a good dessert. Almost any soup can become a sauce when poured over rice. Avoid any dish where the meat has been chopped up with the bones in. Fish is not often deboned. Fried egg and fried rice days are always the best. Ramen with Chili powder is our Sunday Morning breakfast treat. Banana chips are a totally different animal when dried fresh and sprinkled with sugar. 'Se-yung' sauce (sweet chili sauce -- coined with the name of the person who won a contest last year of who could drink the most straight out of a cup) makes every meal great. And if push comes to shove, there's always fresh fruit and num-pung from the bakery.
This week we finally will be in our 'regularly scheduled activities' so we should start feeling at home here. I already do. Minus the dirt and the occaisional whiff of I-don't-want-to-know-what from the street.
Oh, and I've been assigned teaching an English Class for my work duty. We've been observing (Alissa is my co-teacher) but we'll start taking over the class after next week. 30-40 students at the intermediate level. How cool is that?
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Chinese Characters
(sorry this took so long. I could not find the post button in the Chinese Characters on the page...so here it is, long overdue) Hello everyone. I'm writing this blog on a page that is in Chinese, so it may all be gibberish by the time you see it. I also have written this post once before, but could not figure out which was the publish button, so deleted it.
Life here is good. Our Cambodian contingent arrived Sunday evening. Now Khmai is spoken and sung most of the time -- good for us trying to learn the language. We have lots of exposure and lots of people willing to teach. Difficult to carry on conversations because both their English and our Khmai is somewhat limited, so we end up shrugging and laughing a lot.
The food situation has been mostly good. This weekend, however, the wind changed and the food is closer to Vietnamese food than Thai. I'm loving the Thai. The vietnamese food meant that yesterday we had a delicacy for breakfast of rice noodles and ground fish power, lunch of whole fried fish and mystery meat soup (oily, not brothy like Thai soups), and something for dinner that I picked around, but could not eat. Today was fish again for lunch - and they don't debone, so the fish is intact and staring. By lunch I'd learned from the day before, so I brought a knife to the table, but once the fish was opened it resembled too closely a formaldehyde soaked dissection, and I gave up the effort, covering the whole mess with a napkin (the Cambodian guy across the table asked if I was saving it. Nope. Burying it is closer to the mark). In the spirit of my theme of "commit yourself wholly to everything so that all may see your progress" I am trying to limit my extra foods to bread and fruit. (Both a supplementary food, and in emergencies like this weekend). On Saturday the cook has her day off, so I get to go to the american caffe and get a caffe latte and bagel, for lunch a burger, for dinner, I have not dicovered where to eat yet. The rest of the time I'm trying to at least try the food. Most of it is excellent. And the parts I don't like, I remind myself that we'll likely have less variety on outreach.
Today we've spent hours and hours going over the handbook. All that is finally over, though, and tonight Darlene Cunningham gives the first of four talks. We are told this is a great privilege. She rarely has time to go out to bases and speak, and not for a whole week at that. She and her husband founded Youth With A Mission in the 1960's
Life here is good. Our Cambodian contingent arrived Sunday evening. Now Khmai is spoken and sung most of the time -- good for us trying to learn the language. We have lots of exposure and lots of people willing to teach. Difficult to carry on conversations because both their English and our Khmai is somewhat limited, so we end up shrugging and laughing a lot.
The food situation has been mostly good. This weekend, however, the wind changed and the food is closer to Vietnamese food than Thai. I'm loving the Thai. The vietnamese food meant that yesterday we had a delicacy for breakfast of rice noodles and ground fish power, lunch of whole fried fish and mystery meat soup (oily, not brothy like Thai soups), and something for dinner that I picked around, but could not eat. Today was fish again for lunch - and they don't debone, so the fish is intact and staring. By lunch I'd learned from the day before, so I brought a knife to the table, but once the fish was opened it resembled too closely a formaldehyde soaked dissection, and I gave up the effort, covering the whole mess with a napkin (the Cambodian guy across the table asked if I was saving it. Nope. Burying it is closer to the mark). In the spirit of my theme of "commit yourself wholly to everything so that all may see your progress" I am trying to limit my extra foods to bread and fruit. (Both a supplementary food, and in emergencies like this weekend). On Saturday the cook has her day off, so I get to go to the american caffe and get a caffe latte and bagel, for lunch a burger, for dinner, I have not dicovered where to eat yet. The rest of the time I'm trying to at least try the food. Most of it is excellent. And the parts I don't like, I remind myself that we'll likely have less variety on outreach.
Today we've spent hours and hours going over the handbook. All that is finally over, though, and tonight Darlene Cunningham gives the first of four talks. We are told this is a great privilege. She rarely has time to go out to bases and speak, and not for a whole week at that. She and her husband founded Youth With A Mission in the 1960's
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Adventures in the Marketplace
Adventures in the Marketplace
I'm running out of things to write. Not because nothing's happening, but because there's SO MUCH going on. Our typical daily schedule is very packed with activity as we try and cram as much culture, language, knowledge of the area, and acquaintance with the programs on base. Normally our day looks something like this:
6:30 - Wake up/Shower/Khmai Review
7:00 - Breakfast
8:00 - Worship and Prayer
9:00 - Culture Orientation
11:00 - Khmai Language Class
12:00 - Lunch/Khmai Practice/Shower #2/Nap
12:45 - Frantic Khmai practice in dorm room
2:00 - Program Orientation/City Tour/Local Visit
4:00 - Youth Center English Classes/Khmai Practice
6:30 - Dinner
7:30 - Free Time/Informational Video on Cambodia
8:30 - More Frantic Khmai Practice
9:00 - Shower #3
9:30 - All collapse exhausted and sleep a dreamless sleep
Today we had a little more free time than usual, so we went to the market at 4 to try our hand at bartering. The market is basically open air, but it's under a tented metal frame. Little stalls are packed high with things, and they all specialize. You'll have a row of toiletries and soaps, a row of sarong sellers, vendors selling just shoes, or pots, or jewelry, or fruit. We've not perfected bartering. As westerners they double or triple the price when we ask. We've managed to get a few thousand riel off, but not every time. We brought one lady down in price for detergent, but I couldn't get any off for my shoulder bag I bought at a shop on the street. In the far side of the market vendors sell slabs of meat, all on display, flies everywhere. On the opposite end of the market is a "Western" restaurant that sells pop and hamburgers. Down street #2 is the White Rose, which sells both asian and western snacks (If you're desperate, you can buy bread with peanut butter for 1500 riel). We stop there almost daily to buy a mango or papaya shake with vanilla ice cream added (3000 riel - about $.75).
Streets here are dusty, trash in the gutters, motos and bikes are prevalent with very few cars. In order to get into town we walk outside our front gate and hold up one finger. After bartering with the moto driver for fare, two people climb on back and hold on as he weaves his way through traffic into town. It's quite a trip to get used to. They drive very fast, and if there are traffic laws, no one pays attention.
Our time isn't all adventure. A few days ago we visited the government orphanage. Not all the children there have lost parents. Often a poor family will leave a child at the orphanage because they can't afford to care for them. Today we went to a goverment military hospital. Most of the people there are dying of aids. There were no doctors in sight. No medicine. Just beds full of people, slowly dying. Their families live with them in the hospital. Those that can't walk across the property for food cook in wooden buckets in the yard, using unclean water from the pond nearby. Only a few know to boil the water. Many children there also have aids. Most of the military men there contracted aids through prostitution. They then gave aids to their wives, and the wives give birth to aids infected babies. Those children lucky enough to be born aids free (though sometimes the virus doesn't show up in tests until the children are oldre) contract it soon enough through nursing - formula here is too expensive for most people to use.
We're learning more and more Khmai every day. Khmai is an easy language because there are NO VERB CONJUGATIONS!!!!! And except for a few high class people, everyone speaks in the present tense, so there are no past and future verbs to be learned. Our vocabulary is small, but today we got the linking words 'with'and 'and'so we can start taking things we've learned already and inventing new sentences. VERY exciting.
More later. We have to figure out how to get two people and a box of detergent on the back of a motodope.
I'm running out of things to write. Not because nothing's happening, but because there's SO MUCH going on. Our typical daily schedule is very packed with activity as we try and cram as much culture, language, knowledge of the area, and acquaintance with the programs on base. Normally our day looks something like this:
6:30 - Wake up/Shower/Khmai Review
7:00 - Breakfast
8:00 - Worship and Prayer
9:00 - Culture Orientation
11:00 - Khmai Language Class
12:00 - Lunch/Khmai Practice/Shower #2/Nap
12:45 - Frantic Khmai practice in dorm room
2:00 - Program Orientation/City Tour/Local Visit
4:00 - Youth Center English Classes/Khmai Practice
6:30 - Dinner
7:30 - Free Time/Informational Video on Cambodia
8:30 - More Frantic Khmai Practice
9:00 - Shower #3
9:30 - All collapse exhausted and sleep a dreamless sleep
Today we had a little more free time than usual, so we went to the market at 4 to try our hand at bartering. The market is basically open air, but it's under a tented metal frame. Little stalls are packed high with things, and they all specialize. You'll have a row of toiletries and soaps, a row of sarong sellers, vendors selling just shoes, or pots, or jewelry, or fruit. We've not perfected bartering. As westerners they double or triple the price when we ask. We've managed to get a few thousand riel off, but not every time. We brought one lady down in price for detergent, but I couldn't get any off for my shoulder bag I bought at a shop on the street. In the far side of the market vendors sell slabs of meat, all on display, flies everywhere. On the opposite end of the market is a "Western" restaurant that sells pop and hamburgers. Down street #2 is the White Rose, which sells both asian and western snacks (If you're desperate, you can buy bread with peanut butter for 1500 riel). We stop there almost daily to buy a mango or papaya shake with vanilla ice cream added (3000 riel - about $.75).
Streets here are dusty, trash in the gutters, motos and bikes are prevalent with very few cars. In order to get into town we walk outside our front gate and hold up one finger. After bartering with the moto driver for fare, two people climb on back and hold on as he weaves his way through traffic into town. It's quite a trip to get used to. They drive very fast, and if there are traffic laws, no one pays attention.
Our time isn't all adventure. A few days ago we visited the government orphanage. Not all the children there have lost parents. Often a poor family will leave a child at the orphanage because they can't afford to care for them. Today we went to a goverment military hospital. Most of the people there are dying of aids. There were no doctors in sight. No medicine. Just beds full of people, slowly dying. Their families live with them in the hospital. Those that can't walk across the property for food cook in wooden buckets in the yard, using unclean water from the pond nearby. Only a few know to boil the water. Many children there also have aids. Most of the military men there contracted aids through prostitution. They then gave aids to their wives, and the wives give birth to aids infected babies. Those children lucky enough to be born aids free (though sometimes the virus doesn't show up in tests until the children are oldre) contract it soon enough through nursing - formula here is too expensive for most people to use.
We're learning more and more Khmai every day. Khmai is an easy language because there are NO VERB CONJUGATIONS!!!!! And except for a few high class people, everyone speaks in the present tense, so there are no past and future verbs to be learned. Our vocabulary is small, but today we got the linking words 'with'and 'and'so we can start taking things we've learned already and inventing new sentences. VERY exciting.
More later. We have to figure out how to get two people and a box of detergent on the back of a motodope.
Monday, January 22, 2007
More Impressions
More Impressions
I've been here for almost 48 hours in Battambang. I did find my ride after all. She was the blonde girl talking to a stranger about not knowing what the girl she was picking up looked like. There was also a backwards RA I could read through her sign from where I was standing. We went back to Bangkok to the YWAM base there, and walked around the market all evening in an attempt by me to stay awake until bedtime. I found lots of pepsi for very cheap, and bought a hat and a pair of flip flops. Within an hour of landing I was sideways on the back of a hired moto in an attempt to locate some Yellow Curry (the only success we had was at a street vendor, and I didn't want to spend a 6 hour bus plus 2 hour taxi ride sick). We also ate pizza for Mollie, since she doesn't get western food very often. We had bread for breakfast, too, with jam. I like Bangkok. It's odd though -- very dirty, trash in the streets, dogs laying around everywhere, but everyone has a cell phone. The next day we spent running back and forth in the back of an open truck to the airport. We couldn't find Suzy and the desk said she wasn't on the flight. Back to Bangkok to sort things out by email with the Battambang base. Suzy was there after all. Then into the back of the rig for a 45 minute trip to the bus station. An interminable bus trip and then a border crossing in the dark. The bus station in a 6km drive by moto-taxi to the border. Our moto driver told us that the border was closed and we would have to stay at his friend's (it's always convenient here who has a friend or a brother who has just what you need) guest house. We yelled at him to go to the border anyway -- and after the slowest moto ride in history (normally they go like bats out of hell) including him making circles in the parking lot to stall for time, we arrived at the border with more than an hour to spare to get visas. One Thai man took charge of our suitcases (his friend has a taxi to Battambang) and we went through the border in very short time. Then a two hour taxi ride to the base. In the dark. Over rutted roads. Swerving into oncoming traffic to pass trucks filled to the bursting point with people. This is not phasing me anymore, but I only didn't get sick on that ride by the grace of God. Garth called Mollie to see if we wanted dinner when we got in -- I said I wouldn't know until I got there...and it would depend on if I could keep myself well for the rest of the drive.
Our days have been packed full. Yesterday we weren't required to go to any base activities if we didn't want to - a chance for us to get over jetlag. But since jetlag makes us wake early, we all went to church anyway since we had been up for hours. At about 3:30 am a Khmai funeral began, with chanting and music very loud over a speaker. Half an hour after that a wedding (which lasts for a day and a half) kicked things up a notch. Combine that with heat, roosters, something that sounds a bit like a cicada, we weren't sleeping much that morning. Church was very interesting. A short term missions team from Australia was at the foursquare church I attended with the other DTSers, so some of the service was in English. Some of the songs were originally in English, so we sang along, and songs with hand motions are universal. Then lunch. Ahhh. Cambodian food IS very similar to Thai - but they have things at different times in the day. For breakfast on sunday we had Ramen Noodles with chili sauce. For lunch we had fried eggs over rice. Dinner was meat and vegetables in sauce over rice. And with every meal there's the fruit. I've never liked tropical fruits -- but having them fresh and local makes all the difference. Today we had papaya. Who know I'd like papaya? I ate my own portion, and several other people's when the plates were being taken away. Last night was the youth center house party, so about 200 kids and lots of adults came on property for games, songs and treats. I met a young Khmai woman who teaches english and sunday school in the neighboring villages. She wants to attent a DTS someday, but it is very expensive, and her family can't lose her income for six months.
Today we began training in full. This morning for breakfast we had fried rice with sausage (SO good, even the resident former vegetarian loved the sausage). After breakfast we went to see the government orphanage and got peed on. We were in the infant room, and infants there don't wear diapers. When they pee you just wash them off and wrap more cloth around them. It was difficult for we westerners (I personally think God intended babies to be securely swathed in rubberwear) since they made puddles on the floor which were wiped up, and since we don't wear shoes indoors, we had no choice but to walk through it. I stayed clean, but about half of the people there that morning (from DTS and the new Outreach team from Kona) left with clothes needing a wash. I left halfway through to go watch the English classes being taught to the older kids. Mollie taught colors today. I talked to a Cambodian man who does a lot of translating for the kid functions. One kid shocked me. Running around with all the Khmai kids was a child with red hair, freckles and skin my color, but his features were Cambodia. It turns out he's an albino. Funny, in places with less foreigners, that's how I'll look to them. We went back to the base for an hour of Khmai lessions. I can now say hello, how are you, ask what is your name, and tell people where I'm from. My opera language training is coming in VERY handy. Lunch was excellent, too. Thin brothy soup with cabbage and onions. And PAPAYA! After lunch we had free time, which we mostly spent practicing our Khmai. Then some history and politics lessions. Now we have free time until dinner. Once I get done typing I've got to go to the street and hire a moto. I can only say one thing to get home -- "straight straight!" and I can say "slowly!!!"
This is an exprience. Our days are very full, but we have free time as well. This week is a wonderful chance to get to know the staff and our fellow DTSers before the Cambodians show up -- since we'll be the ones working very hard to learn the language and culture before the outreach phase starts. It's interesting at the dinner table to listen to conversations I've no way to understand, and know that in a few months, I'll be taking part in them.
Pray for me as I try to learn Khmai!
I've been here for almost 48 hours in Battambang. I did find my ride after all. She was the blonde girl talking to a stranger about not knowing what the girl she was picking up looked like. There was also a backwards RA I could read through her sign from where I was standing. We went back to Bangkok to the YWAM base there, and walked around the market all evening in an attempt by me to stay awake until bedtime. I found lots of pepsi for very cheap, and bought a hat and a pair of flip flops. Within an hour of landing I was sideways on the back of a hired moto in an attempt to locate some Yellow Curry (the only success we had was at a street vendor, and I didn't want to spend a 6 hour bus plus 2 hour taxi ride sick). We also ate pizza for Mollie, since she doesn't get western food very often. We had bread for breakfast, too, with jam. I like Bangkok. It's odd though -- very dirty, trash in the streets, dogs laying around everywhere, but everyone has a cell phone. The next day we spent running back and forth in the back of an open truck to the airport. We couldn't find Suzy and the desk said she wasn't on the flight. Back to Bangkok to sort things out by email with the Battambang base. Suzy was there after all. Then into the back of the rig for a 45 minute trip to the bus station. An interminable bus trip and then a border crossing in the dark. The bus station in a 6km drive by moto-taxi to the border. Our moto driver told us that the border was closed and we would have to stay at his friend's (it's always convenient here who has a friend or a brother who has just what you need) guest house. We yelled at him to go to the border anyway -- and after the slowest moto ride in history (normally they go like bats out of hell) including him making circles in the parking lot to stall for time, we arrived at the border with more than an hour to spare to get visas. One Thai man took charge of our suitcases (his friend has a taxi to Battambang) and we went through the border in very short time. Then a two hour taxi ride to the base. In the dark. Over rutted roads. Swerving into oncoming traffic to pass trucks filled to the bursting point with people. This is not phasing me anymore, but I only didn't get sick on that ride by the grace of God. Garth called Mollie to see if we wanted dinner when we got in -- I said I wouldn't know until I got there...and it would depend on if I could keep myself well for the rest of the drive.
Our days have been packed full. Yesterday we weren't required to go to any base activities if we didn't want to - a chance for us to get over jetlag. But since jetlag makes us wake early, we all went to church anyway since we had been up for hours. At about 3:30 am a Khmai funeral began, with chanting and music very loud over a speaker. Half an hour after that a wedding (which lasts for a day and a half) kicked things up a notch. Combine that with heat, roosters, something that sounds a bit like a cicada, we weren't sleeping much that morning. Church was very interesting. A short term missions team from Australia was at the foursquare church I attended with the other DTSers, so some of the service was in English. Some of the songs were originally in English, so we sang along, and songs with hand motions are universal. Then lunch. Ahhh. Cambodian food IS very similar to Thai - but they have things at different times in the day. For breakfast on sunday we had Ramen Noodles with chili sauce. For lunch we had fried eggs over rice. Dinner was meat and vegetables in sauce over rice. And with every meal there's the fruit. I've never liked tropical fruits -- but having them fresh and local makes all the difference. Today we had papaya. Who know I'd like papaya? I ate my own portion, and several other people's when the plates were being taken away. Last night was the youth center house party, so about 200 kids and lots of adults came on property for games, songs and treats. I met a young Khmai woman who teaches english and sunday school in the neighboring villages. She wants to attent a DTS someday, but it is very expensive, and her family can't lose her income for six months.
Today we began training in full. This morning for breakfast we had fried rice with sausage (SO good, even the resident former vegetarian loved the sausage). After breakfast we went to see the government orphanage and got peed on. We were in the infant room, and infants there don't wear diapers. When they pee you just wash them off and wrap more cloth around them. It was difficult for we westerners (I personally think God intended babies to be securely swathed in rubberwear) since they made puddles on the floor which were wiped up, and since we don't wear shoes indoors, we had no choice but to walk through it. I stayed clean, but about half of the people there that morning (from DTS and the new Outreach team from Kona) left with clothes needing a wash. I left halfway through to go watch the English classes being taught to the older kids. Mollie taught colors today. I talked to a Cambodian man who does a lot of translating for the kid functions. One kid shocked me. Running around with all the Khmai kids was a child with red hair, freckles and skin my color, but his features were Cambodia. It turns out he's an albino. Funny, in places with less foreigners, that's how I'll look to them. We went back to the base for an hour of Khmai lessions. I can now say hello, how are you, ask what is your name, and tell people where I'm from. My opera language training is coming in VERY handy. Lunch was excellent, too. Thin brothy soup with cabbage and onions. And PAPAYA! After lunch we had free time, which we mostly spent practicing our Khmai. Then some history and politics lessions. Now we have free time until dinner. Once I get done typing I've got to go to the street and hire a moto. I can only say one thing to get home -- "straight straight!" and I can say "slowly!!!"
This is an exprience. Our days are very full, but we have free time as well. This week is a wonderful chance to get to know the staff and our fellow DTSers before the Cambodians show up -- since we'll be the ones working very hard to learn the language and culture before the outreach phase starts. It's interesting at the dinner table to listen to conversations I've no way to understand, and know that in a few months, I'll be taking part in them.
Pray for me as I try to learn Khmai!
Friday, January 19, 2007
My first days abroad
My first days abroad
January 17, 11:44pm - Seatac Airport
It's so surreal. I had a glass of champagne at dinner, which only added to the effect. Now I'm so tired, while waiting to board the plane, that nothing seems real. I couldn't believe how many boxes of stuff (gifts) people were carting into the check-in line. Several suitcases and a few large moving boxes on each cart pp all labelled with Asian addresses. The family ahead of me through security had several children, all in denim jumpers, mom with outdated hairdo. My first thought was homeschool or missionary family - but one girl has a Samantha doll in her backpack.
The crew is boarding. Not much longer now. I'm so cold. I'm dressed for Asia, but Seattle is well below freezing. The flight attendants all wear purle and have short black hair. The announcements over the loudspeaker are first in Chinese. What an odd-sounding language - so obviously tonal. I can't wait to get on this plane, put on my sleep mask, wrap up in my blanket and sleep.
January 19th? - Somewhere over the Pacific
Oh gosh! What an uncomfortable flight. Both arms hurt which make finding a way to curl up and sleep very hard. Back home it's a little after 1pm on the 18th - the screen above our seats says its something like 5am in Taipei - which, by the way, is in Taiwan, not China. Shows you just how much research I've done for this trip.
As promised, I pulled out my blanket and pillow immediately upon embarking - and discovered that, actually, the under seat storage on this flight is much smaller than on a domestic flight - my backpack doesn't fit. Since there's no way I'm going to be left with nothing to do for 13 hours, I transfered everything out of the side pouches and forced it under with both feet.
I had just drifted off to the random shuffle of the ipod my sister lent me, when I awoke to my seatmate tapping my arm (Owwww!). 2:15am and they want to serve us breakfast. Unable to find my glasses I ordered blind, sleep mask shoved up my forehead. I ate my sausage, juice, and yogurt, then pulled my mask back down, covered myself head to toe in my blanket and the airline one, and curled up against the window. I slept for 8 hours I think. I'm now sure when we took off - be boarded the plane right at our departure time. We seem to be arriving only half an hour late. I know we didn't board that quickly. Sometime in this perpetual night (It's been dark the entire flight. 12 hours in I can just see the edge of dawn behind us), I looked out the window to see a small smattering of lights. An island? Maybe Hawaii, but it doesn't look like our flight plan went that far south.
They gave us hot wipes to wash our faces and hands before we went to sleep (right after breakfast, remember), then dimmed the lights. We were awoken around 9amPST to more hot wipes and chicken, rice, and hard liquor service. I can't figure out whose time this plane is operating under. Not Pacific coast, but not Taipei either.
I washed my face, put in contact and makeup, and amused myself with the contents of my backpack. I can't get to CS Lewis, who is lodged at the bottom. I played a bit of Sudoku and read the in-flight magazine. This one's funny: From my (forgive me) travel horoscope (only taken as seriously as a fortune cookie)...
1 hour to go. One. they all the joys of negotiating my way around a really international airport. Lord protect me -this is so odd. My mind is only working as far ahead as the next step. Endure the flight. Find the connecting gate. Pee. Board next flight. Get off in Bangkok. Then....!
Dawn is certainly growing behind us - the sun has finally caught up with us. the horizon is completely flat and circular around us. (Perhaps from the opposite side of the plane I could see land - or maybe an island) The magazines are all in Chinese, then Japanese, then English in very small print and poor grammar. Best movie review for "Following the sun under a Tuscan sky." Alright, I'm going to put everything away. the flight attendants are walking around handing out more free stuff. Even the wine and liquor and headphones are free.
January 19th - 9:35am/4:35pm January 18th. Taoyuan (Taiwan)
Ok. One international airport looks pretty much like another. Duty free. Seems rather more expensive than just buying the stuff outright, but maybe I'm not doing the conversions correctly. I went into a bookstore to see what they had - all Chinese (I'm guess ting) except for a few sci/fi books, and ironically enough - the complete set of the Chronicles of Narnia. it's cold int he airport. I took off my long underwear I've had under my skirt. I don't want to be confused with a Mormon missionary -- though reality isn't far from that. One more flight. the landing was bumpy, and only the man next to me talking helped me not be sick. He thought the deep yoga-learned breathing was fear. Nope, just battling nausea. When I told him where I was going he tried to talk me out of it. 'All people without contracts leave in one week.' If I got in trouble, he said, 'get a Chinese friend. Chinese government more powerful than U.S. Embassy.' Nice man - other than waking me up for the world's earliest breakfast.
that man from the last plane is waiting for this one, too. He's wearing a fuchsia long sleeved shirt and purple hat, and carrying a little mini-accordion strapped to his chest. 'Do you remember me?' he asks. Hard to forget. Gesture to his shirt and accordion. He wants to borrow some scissors from me (he saw me sewing on the last flight) but I put them in my suitcase. He played his accordion on the last flight. Trapped in a small space with someone playing accordion sounds like the Far Side version of hell. In my increasingly jet lagged state it made the whole thing feel like a French art film. Where is La Vie en Rose?
This is an international airport. There are a majority of Asian people, but lots of Westerners too. Our percentage is decreasing rapidly as the locals join us in the plane queue.
1:30 - Bangkok (actual time)
I'm in a foreign country. I can't find my ride. And I've lost my pen. I don't know why the pen and the ride are weighing in equally in my head. there are lots of people holding signs, none of them the illusive Molly. Taxi drivers galore would like to take me somewhere, but I wouldn't know where. For now I'll sit dutifully outside my disembarkation gate and hope she arrives soon. My numbness might wear off. And then I'll have to realize that I am lost. Alone. Halfway around the world...
January 17, 11:44pm - Seatac Airport
It's so surreal. I had a glass of champagne at dinner, which only added to the effect. Now I'm so tired, while waiting to board the plane, that nothing seems real. I couldn't believe how many boxes of stuff (gifts) people were carting into the check-in line. Several suitcases and a few large moving boxes on each cart pp all labelled with Asian addresses. The family ahead of me through security had several children, all in denim jumpers, mom with outdated hairdo. My first thought was homeschool or missionary family - but one girl has a Samantha doll in her backpack.
The crew is boarding. Not much longer now. I'm so cold. I'm dressed for Asia, but Seattle is well below freezing. The flight attendants all wear purle and have short black hair. The announcements over the loudspeaker are first in Chinese. What an odd-sounding language - so obviously tonal. I can't wait to get on this plane, put on my sleep mask, wrap up in my blanket and sleep.
January 19th? - Somewhere over the Pacific
Oh gosh! What an uncomfortable flight. Both arms hurt which make finding a way to curl up and sleep very hard. Back home it's a little after 1pm on the 18th - the screen above our seats says its something like 5am in Taipei - which, by the way, is in Taiwan, not China. Shows you just how much research I've done for this trip.
As promised, I pulled out my blanket and pillow immediately upon embarking - and discovered that, actually, the under seat storage on this flight is much smaller than on a domestic flight - my backpack doesn't fit. Since there's no way I'm going to be left with nothing to do for 13 hours, I transfered everything out of the side pouches and forced it under with both feet.
I had just drifted off to the random shuffle of the ipod my sister lent me, when I awoke to my seatmate tapping my arm (Owwww!). 2:15am and they want to serve us breakfast. Unable to find my glasses I ordered blind, sleep mask shoved up my forehead. I ate my sausage, juice, and yogurt, then pulled my mask back down, covered myself head to toe in my blanket and the airline one, and curled up against the window. I slept for 8 hours I think. I'm now sure when we took off - be boarded the plane right at our departure time. We seem to be arriving only half an hour late. I know we didn't board that quickly. Sometime in this perpetual night (It's been dark the entire flight. 12 hours in I can just see the edge of dawn behind us), I looked out the window to see a small smattering of lights. An island? Maybe Hawaii, but it doesn't look like our flight plan went that far south.
They gave us hot wipes to wash our faces and hands before we went to sleep (right after breakfast, remember), then dimmed the lights. We were awoken around 9amPST to more hot wipes and chicken, rice, and hard liquor service. I can't figure out whose time this plane is operating under. Not Pacific coast, but not Taipei either.
I washed my face, put in contact and makeup, and amused myself with the contents of my backpack. I can't get to CS Lewis, who is lodged at the bottom. I played a bit of Sudoku and read the in-flight magazine. This one's funny: From my (forgive me) travel horoscope (only taken as seriously as a fortune cookie)...
"Travel plans have a tendency to arise rather suddenly at this time. You will get most pleasure from spontaneous excursions. Personal money matters and anything that my have an effect on your treasured possessions comes up for discussion."Huh. No kidding.
1 hour to go. One. they all the joys of negotiating my way around a really international airport. Lord protect me -this is so odd. My mind is only working as far ahead as the next step. Endure the flight. Find the connecting gate. Pee. Board next flight. Get off in Bangkok. Then....!
Dawn is certainly growing behind us - the sun has finally caught up with us. the horizon is completely flat and circular around us. (Perhaps from the opposite side of the plane I could see land - or maybe an island) The magazines are all in Chinese, then Japanese, then English in very small print and poor grammar. Best movie review for "Following the sun under a Tuscan sky." Alright, I'm going to put everything away. the flight attendants are walking around handing out more free stuff. Even the wine and liquor and headphones are free.
January 19th - 9:35am/4:35pm January 18th. Taoyuan (Taiwan)
Ok. One international airport looks pretty much like another. Duty free. Seems rather more expensive than just buying the stuff outright, but maybe I'm not doing the conversions correctly. I went into a bookstore to see what they had - all Chinese (I'm guess ting) except for a few sci/fi books, and ironically enough - the complete set of the Chronicles of Narnia. it's cold int he airport. I took off my long underwear I've had under my skirt. I don't want to be confused with a Mormon missionary -- though reality isn't far from that. One more flight. the landing was bumpy, and only the man next to me talking helped me not be sick. He thought the deep yoga-learned breathing was fear. Nope, just battling nausea. When I told him where I was going he tried to talk me out of it. 'All people without contracts leave in one week.' If I got in trouble, he said, 'get a Chinese friend. Chinese government more powerful than U.S. Embassy.' Nice man - other than waking me up for the world's earliest breakfast.
that man from the last plane is waiting for this one, too. He's wearing a fuchsia long sleeved shirt and purple hat, and carrying a little mini-accordion strapped to his chest. 'Do you remember me?' he asks. Hard to forget. Gesture to his shirt and accordion. He wants to borrow some scissors from me (he saw me sewing on the last flight) but I put them in my suitcase. He played his accordion on the last flight. Trapped in a small space with someone playing accordion sounds like the Far Side version of hell. In my increasingly jet lagged state it made the whole thing feel like a French art film. Where is La Vie en Rose?
This is an international airport. There are a majority of Asian people, but lots of Westerners too. Our percentage is decreasing rapidly as the locals join us in the plane queue.
1:30 - Bangkok (actual time)
I'm in a foreign country. I can't find my ride. And I've lost my pen. I don't know why the pen and the ride are weighing in equally in my head. there are lots of people holding signs, none of them the illusive Molly. Taxi drivers galore would like to take me somewhere, but I wouldn't know where. For now I'll sit dutifully outside my disembarkation gate and hope she arrives soon. My numbness might wear off. And then I'll have to realize that I am lost. Alone. Halfway around the world...
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