Eight months after my last post, not much has changed. Coronavirus is on the rampage, national politics are dizzying and upsetting, and my dog is still the most handsome in all the land. Just look:
Ok, ok, enough of that. My life these days is a monotonous one of many good things. I am healthy, down almost twenty pounds since returning from Paris - amazing what NOT eating a baguette a day can do for the hips - and working hard to learn Khmer.
Studying what, you say? Let me go back about a year...
Around October 2019, an era ago, I learned that my next post was Phnom Penh, Cambodia. Yahoo! After two years of doing meaningful, challenging and at times simple, at times complicated work in the consular field, I'll be going back to my chosen field, management. Consular has been fun, with wonderful colleagues that I hope to stay in touch with or serve with again someday. I found one leader to model myself on, and a few others to learn from in other ways.
In July, as thoughts of a "second save" of the 'virus were starting to make people reconsider re-opening restaurants in Paris, I grabbed a friend and celebrated my birthday at the Eiffel tower. It was a glorious, delicious, expensive once-in-a-lifetime experience and I enjoyed every single bite.
A few weeks later I was on a plane headed to Washington, DC, for a week of (virtual) training and quarantining after international travel. Then came the dreaded swab of the far reaches of the nasal cavity, a negative result, and the drive down to stay with my parents for a bit. It was lovely to reunite with them and relax amidst the chaos and uncertainty of the summer. We hunkered down, venturing outside for walks with Jacques and the occasional grocery run, but otherwise just keeping each other company. Fast forward to September, and I had bought myself a car - aptly named Blue Bonnet Sue for her coloring - and zipped back up to DC to start language training.
What do you know about Cambodia? Chances are, much like myself a few months ago, you knew it was in Asia, possibly even that it was in south east Asia. You probably relate it to the color red, or even the term "Khmer Rouge." Maybe you'd been there before, like myself, a backpacker in a developing, poor country full of other travelers and landmine victims begging for money and monks in bright orange robes. Maybe you remembered the food, or the tummy trouble you had there, or the incredible ruins of Angkor Wat.
But did you know that the way we pronounce the "Khmer" in Khmer Rouge is a westernized pronunciation? The national language of Cambodia is Khmer, pronounced "Kuh-my". It has 33 consonants, 24 dependent vowels, and 13 independent vowels. The consonants are split into two groups, and each group interacts differently with the dependent vowels, meaning that really there are 48 dependent vowels. Then there are the diacritics, small markings above (or below, or hidden within!) certain letters that change how they sound in certain instances.
Luckily, it is not a tonal language. Also, the grammar is thus far in my learning pretty straightforward. No conjugating of verbs, no plurals, a gender-neutral term for he/she/they. After fourteen weeks into a forty-four week program, I can speak generally about myself - who I am, my name and family members and job, where I've lived, etc - and ask basic questions. By the end of the program, I'm expected to be able to hold conversations and understand a native speaker. It's a daunting task, but a fun one. I love learning language as my full time job!
That said, it's not terribly exciting. My apartment has papers stuck up on the wall with letters, words, phrases, in Khmer. Index cards with the same are scattered all over the place. Every morning, I get up early and take Jacques for a long walk or a visit to a dog park. These days, that means I'm up before the sun, which has its perks. Take, for instance, views like these:
Then I get ready for a day of studying, log onto Zoom, and ... in the evening I walk the dog, study, make dinner, study, and go to bed. Wash, rinse, repeat. My goal is to not expose myself to the frankly scary people who feel that COVID is made up, or that masks aren't important, or that they're special somehow. So, I order groceries online and wear a mask anytime I leave my apartment. I don't hang out with people very much, and when I do it's either outside with masks on, or not at all.
It is distressing to me that the world has become so topsy-turvy that a fairly straight-forward measure like wearing a mask to protect others is seen as a political statement. I've read the CDC reports and know that masks are only about 70% effective at protecting others from my breathing, and possibly less effective (but still helpful!) at protecting me from the world's breathing. How hard is it to just assume that you have COVID-19 and act accordingly? In my mind, it's the only safe way to behave. Do I choose my risk? Yes. I have visited my parents twice now. Even with all appropriate measures taken, there was a small risk of getting it and passing it on to them, but we made that decision acknowledging the risks involved and doing what we could to mitigate them.
Stepping down from the soapbox now. I truly do not believe my remarks are political in the least. I have decided that for me, in these days, a very spare diet of social media is all that my heart and mind can take. A few minutes on the weekend, to check in with people I care about, read up on some groups I'm a part of. Beyond that, I'm done allowing The Algorithm to send me down rabbit holes, done reading dumb things said by smart, kind people.
On that frustrated note, I leave you all with wishes for a happy Hanukkah if you celebrate, and a lovely New Year too. Please, please, be safe and consider the risks you are willing to take - not to yourself, but to every single person you get close to while, you know, breathing.
And for the love of all that's good and sensible, wear a mask. It's really not such a big ask.
