Deep Breath

 After my funk of last weekend, I'm happy to say that my sense of adventure was rekindled. It helped that Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday last week were local holidays and so I had ample opportunity to get out and explore. 

What holiday, you might ask? Pchum Ben, or Ancestor's Day, is a Buddhist holiday wherein Cambodians make offerings to monks and/or directly to their ancestors. My language teacher here had me read an article about the history of Pchum Ben, and it surprised me: it's a story of a famous monk who went to Hell, threw down a flower that turned into a floating conveyance for him that sped so quickly through Hell that the breeze cooled and protected him, and spoke to the suffering denizens of Hell. He asked how he could help them, and they asked that he tell their living families to send food and good wishes to them to alleviate their suffering. 

Tuesday

I slept in, and then made a little wandering plan for myself: looking at Google maps, I decided to explore the green strips of park near my apartment. Turns out these, parks are long wide boulevards of white pavement and strips of grass, very few trees, and some lovely monuments. I must have wandered for about an hour, reading inscriptions and peering at the stores across the street on either side. Finally, when the heat became too much and my clothing damp from sweat, I headed towards a cafe that a friend told me was lovely. It was across a tree lined side street from a temple complex, and boasted air conditioning that made me smile. Backyard Cafe has vegetarian and vegan options, as well as some meat dishes, and plenty of smoothie options. 

I sat for awhile just soaking it in, before a text message alerted me that a neighbor and friend of mine had seen me enter the cafe from his perch on the upstairs balcony. I joined him there and we chatted, watching a brief rain swing through as we sipped our cold drinks and I ate a salad. 

After walking home, I relaxed for the rest of the day: watching tv, reading a book, and napping. For dinner, I joined a few of my single friends for dinner at a steak restaurant called Mara Steak, Wok and Roll. I had beef lok lak, a local dish that includes chunks of beef in a tasty gravy. It was nice to socialize, but boy oh boy was I ready for bed that night!

Wednesday

After a night of sweaty sleep (my ACs stopped working), I rousted myself early to go for a bike ride with friends M&M, who bike a lot and even have those fancy pedal-click shoes. 

We rode to Big Silk Island, where I took in the views of Cambodians dressed in clean, bright clothing and going to the local wat or pagoda with their canisters of rice to make offerings to the monks. It was quite something to see - festive and happy. 

About twenty some-odd miles later, I got home and took a long cold shower and a nap. In the evening, I joined some newly arrived colleagues for dinner at Khmer Surin, where we enjoyed Cambodian food and an open air second floor all to ourselves. 

Thursday

The ACs were working so I had a good night's sleep, thank goodness. I awoke feeling like a nice breakfast out, so off I went to La Croisette, which is located right across the street from the river. There I enjoyed the view from the plant be-decked terrace and a plate of eggs, toast, and prosciutto-topped arugula salad, along with a smoothie. 

Next up was a wander up the riverside, checking out passing boats, a festive atmosphere of Cambodian families out for the last day of Pchum Ben, picnics, and sunshine. I kept walking, stopping to chat with a American jazz musician and, later, a Cambodian woman who wanted to practice her English. I continued north until finally, the heat won and I caught a tuk-tuk home. 

After a few minutes of cooling off, it was time to change into a swimsuit and head over to Plantation, a hotel nearby that has a lovely oasis of trees, cabanas, and a pool. There I spent four glorious hours, swimming, nibbling, reading, watching a rain shower blow through, and chat with some friends that had the same great idea I did. 

All in all, it was an excellent couple of days. I found my sense of adventure and was nice to myself, and feel like I've got my groove back now. Thank goodness!

That Lost Feeling, Plus the Jerky Gremlin

The work stress of my first few months in Bamako, Mali, masked the culture shock roller coaster. When it was later pointed out to me that part of my stressed out state was due to that 'coaster, it somehow made me feel a tiny bit better. In Paris, it seemed impossible that I could be subject to culture shock, since everything is so pretty, and tasty, and historic, and iconic. But still, it would hit me at times, there in my bougie suburbia apartment: that feeling, part disappointment in myself for not getting out there to discover new places and make new friends, and part just feeling lonely and lost. 

Here at my third post, when that lost feeling hits me from time to time, I try to be extra nice to myself, mindful that's it will pass. It's not easy though, because of that little voice that's always around to make me question myself. It's that little voice in the back of my mind that has lots of judgement to pass:

Why are you so scared to just go out and explore?

Why don't you have any local friends?

You're missing it all in favor of throwing yourself into work - what's the point of even living abroad, then?

Sure you have a great apartment, but you never go out! You're All Alone and that'll never change at this rate.

What a jerk. 

---

I once saw a self-help book at a Barnes & Noble with a title that included gremlins. It encouraged drawing the speaker of that little voice in your head, and showed examples from the author's patients. There were cartoons of beautiful people and evil ones, and of monsters or animals with fangs. I've thought about that book (which I did not read in full) a lot over the years. What would my gremlin look like? For me, it would look exactly like me, except sometimes it would be a fit, beautiful, vibrant version of myself with a snotty, pinched expression; and sometimes it would be a slovenly, clumsy, fat and boring version of me. Either way, my gremlin is a real asshole.

There are times I can shush the gremlin-me and move beyond it, and times I can't. In the latter, I look in the mirror and see every single one of my insecurities, my frizzy hair and chubby cheeks and dull stupid face, my dumpy and ill-fitting clothes, my boring personality and lonely life. It's clearly a terrible lie, but there it is: my evil gremlin, who whispers ugly nothings in my ear. 

Now combine that jerk's mutterings with a downward spiral of culture shock, that feeling that I'll never get out and meet people outside my bubble, or experience authentic local things... and you've got a really grumpy me that refuses to step outside my apartment door. 

It's a rough day when those two things meet and take over. 

It's been that kind of day today. 

So what to do when forces conspire to make me hide? Well, drinking isn't one of the solutions - that makes it worse. Hanging out with other people can help, but just as often exacerbates the feelings of inadequacy as the Jerk makes comparisons or points out foibles or faux pas. Coloring in coloring books while listening to music; a bubble bath; watching silly tv shows; eating a good meal: these activities are calming and potentially restorative. Sleep, too, soothes the ego. 

---

After writing this, it feels like I shouldn't post it; who will it worry, who will pass judgement, will anyone read it at all? But I will post it, because it's true and it's my blog, after all. And life is not at all bad: Cambodia is an interesting place with lovely people. To prove that it's not all doom and gloom with me, here are a few recent pictures:

Views from the Rosewood sky lounge. 

View from the Rosewood sky lounge. 

View from the Rosewood sky lounge. 

View from my apartment rooftop - love that sky!

A Bike Ride in Foreign Lands

Dear reader, 

It happens from time to time, where I plan to have a relaxing weekend and one or two outings, and then ... I overdo it. On Saturday, things went according to plan: up early to go to the local market with two friends, which was very interesting and incredibly hot. Then I actually did relax a bit, between putting things away in my apartment. Did I mention that last Wednesday, my household effects arrived? Yeah - they did, and it occurred me to me anew that it's high time to become a minimalist. Ha! Also, I hadn't realized just how much stuff came with me from Mali... 

Anyway, after a day of relaxing, I went to dinner at a French-Cambodian restaurant called Wat Damnak, which is walkable from my home. Joined by three friends, I enjoyed a 7-course plant-based meal and a bottle of German pinot noir in a pleasant outdoor courtyard. Afterwards, I walked home and went straight up to the rooftop floor to soak my feet in the pool and listen to the city. What a great Saturday!

Today, I woke up early, ready to go on a group bike ride (my bicycle arrived with my HHE), but it was raining and I decided that no, this was not the day to go cruising in the wet. Instead, I had breakfast with neighbors at a nearby cafe, then returned to arranging my apartment: this time, it was sorting all my books and schlepping them to the various bookshelves. After two hours, the rain had cleared and while clouds remained, that cut down on the heat. So two neighbors and I headed out on bicycles. 

Four hours and 21.8 miles later, we had ridden three ferries, gotten rained on, visited two temples and suffered lower legs covered in mud spatters. We biked on dirt roads and through puddles, passed and were passed by motos, tuktuks, and exhaust-spewing trucks, and weaved among potholes and pedestrians. 

After showering and taking a breath, I met a friend down the street for a light snack and catch-up chat. Then, legs wobbling and body aching, I canceled my dinner plans, ordered out, and parked myself on my couch. And with that, I leave you with the below photos, because I'm exhausted. 

 

Some interesting statues invited
participation at a temple grounds. 

Silk Island park had some freshly painted statues
of various animals. It also had live animals,
including peacocks, hornbills, porcupines, and a crocodile.
That last was the saddest, because it was in a cage maybe
three times its size - which was huge.

Two sizable pigs on the ferry, on their way to... a 
happier life, perhaps? Probably not.

Our rest stop had this gorgeous
walkway, flowers and vines dangling.

Our rest stop view.

The ferry ride back to Phnom Penh and its skyline.
Our bikes are there on the railing - we climbed up to
catch the breeze and enjoy the final ferry ride.

Settling in to Phnom Penh

At the end of my second week out of quarantine, I feel as though I've been here longer. Work is zooming right along, keeping me busy and more than a little stressed at times. My apartment is feeling more like my own, and after this next week will feel even more so, as my household goods delivery is happening. Yahoo!

My Cambodia experiences thus far involve work, grocery shopping and restaurants, a little bit of walking around exploring, and the odd visit to a cultural venue here and there. At work, I organized a commemoration ceremony for the 20th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks. The experience taught me a lot and showed me how much more I have to learn, but ultimately went very well. Most of the shopping I've done have been at "psar tohm-nup" as they're called in Khmer, or modern supermarkets. One visit to a "psar mulatan" or local market was at Russian market, which was fun but in the COVID era, not somewhere I'll frequent for awhile yet, due to its narrow walkways in confined spaces. Restaurants have been a mix of indoor and outdoor, each with a temperature scanner and spray bottle or mist of sanitizer. Only good food experiences so far, but nothing "local" or Cambodian yet. It will take me awhile, I think, to brave the streets and feel comfortable getting the more local feel of my neighborhood, this city, this country.

One thing that has me scratching my head is how very Western it all is, and how very strange this veneer feels. There are dozens of Starbucks-like coffee shops, for example, with sparkling windows and gleaming cappuccino or espresso machines, but just a customer or two and a Cambodian street vendor walking by with a cart of coconuts, perhaps, or tuk-tuk drivers hanging out hoping for a fare. It's the dichotomy of rich and poor, yes, but it's also an internal debate I have with myself:

"Wow, that's so odd, to see something so modern and new and shiny and expensive in an economically poor country like this," my state-the-obvious brain cell says wonderingly 

"Oh, what, so Cambodia can't have nice things? You want everyone to be barefoot and poor, looking at you as the rich Westerner?" sneers the self-critical brain cell who likes to point out the hypocrisy of my thoughts. 

"Girls, girls, can't it be both? Cambodia is a developing nation, with lots of foreign aid and investment, so of course there will be signs from both of those worlds as they collide," placates the pacifist, too-reasonable brain cell. 

A massive Mercedes-Benz SUV roars by, with the distinctively off-putting paint job of being all white except for the black-painted hood. The brain cells fall silent and watch from the tuk-tuk I'm taking from one place to another.

"It's going to take awhile," I say to myself, "To understand Cambodia."

Luckily, I have time.

First Week Recap

On day 13 of quarantine, the Embassy medical testing unit came to the house. Garbed in gown, mask, face shield, and gloves, he had me sit, nostril swabbed me with minimal (in my opinion) whining by me, and was off again. I was swab-ee number 20 and assumed that my results would take the predicted 24 hours. So I went back into my very large quarantine house and settled in for a day of work. 

The good part of quarantine is the time available to really comb through work e-mails and start understanding how things work at my new post. Who communicates with who, what the process maps are, and so on. 

The bad part of quarantine is the boredom. I can be lazy with the best of them, snoozing and cooking and reading and watching Netflix. But after all that - and hours of all that - then what? I wandered from room to room, watched storms from the screened in upper patio, talked to myself, and chatted with far away friends via Facetime and Whatsapp. 

Less than a handful of hours after getting swabbed, I got the all-clear, and immediately put on shoes and went outside. Walking down the street felt surreal, passing three different coffee shops was a hoot, and the heat was oppressive. After an hour or so, I wandered back to the house, packed up all my stuff, and moved over to my permanent apartment, with the help of my social sponsor M and his car. Once we lugged my three suitcases and two boxes of mailed-to-myself items and groceries up to my 2-story apartment, M offered to show me around the neighborhood. We visited an art store and he pointed out shops that had changed owners/wares two, three, four times over his two years here. We essentially walked around the block, dodging tuk-tuks. There are few sidewalks here so it pays to be observant!

By the time M dropped me off at my apartment, I was hot and sweaty and more than a little frazzled feeling. I made up a bed with some linen sheets I'd sent myself, and nibbled on some fruit. The internet wasn't working and the building staff weren't around to fix it. When I started feeling bass thumps through my walls, I started to freak out. 

I paced, and went onto my balcony to see if I could figure out where the music was coming from. It seemed to be a neighbor. I tried going upstairs to read, but could still hear/feel the bass. The thought going through my head was, "I have made a horrible mistake." 

A phone call later and my friend and colleague L swung by in a tuk-tuk to pick me up. She had also just gotten released from quarantine, and was going out to dinner with someone that she knew. She invited me to come along and thank goodness, that helped me breathe and calm down a bit. We went to Nesat, a little seafood restaurant that is not "indoors" so much as covered. We had delicious food, including snails (!), shrimp stir fry, river lobster (which turned out to be giant prawn), and more. The flavors were unique and strong, the conversation light, the laughter constant. When I got home, I felt much better and crashed to sleep. 

That was a week ago. Now, after a week going to work and meeting dozens of new people, both American and Cambodian, and taking on new projects as well as learning the ropes, I can honestly say: this is going to be a magnificent tour! Busy, yes, and stressful, of course. But there's so much to do and see and taste! 

It generally rains a bit each day, and we've had a few solid thunder/lightning downpours. A few cursory visits to grocery stores show that there's no lack of things I'll need and want. And my apartment faces a huge tree with great branches: one day, a hornbill landed not ten feet from me and I was able to admire his strange beak. I'm having a great time so far.

A note about COVID here: since July, the trends of infections and death have been going down, which is a relief. There's an alcohol ban in place, most people seem to be masking, and stores and restaurants have contactless thermometers, QR code scans for contact tracing, hand sanitizer, and so on. At work, masks are required except when in your own office space. It feels like it's taken seriously, which is a relief. 

Some photos from the past ten days:

Brunch at Ministry of Cat
means feline company.

A nearby cafe offers
tasty food and pretty
plating. 

A rainy day here means
flooding streets.

One of my favorite features
of my apartment: the rooftop pool. 

Quarantine Day 8: Dancing in Empty Rooms

I keep looking up from what I'm doing, searching for Jacques for a split instant before remembering he's back in Durham with my parents. Each time we video chat, he comes into the room and I see his tail going tik-tok-tik-tok, before he starts to 'talk' - a whimpery-moany-singsong - and sometimes, he'll put his paws on the computer desk and start into the camera at me. At night, sometimes I reach over to pat him, or leave my hand hanging off the edge of the bed for him to sniff. 

Pulls at all my heart strings. I miss my buddy. 

Meanwhile, quarantining in a huge, two-floor, five-bedroom house gets old, fast. I creep outside now and then to soak in some sun, or sit in the screened-in upstairs patio to watch tuk-tuks and people go by. 

During the past week, I've followed a daily routine of wake up, a quick workout or stretch, shower, dress for work, WhatsApp the folks, eat breakfast while FaceTime-ing, then log on for work. 

I spend the day on two computers, learning as much as I can about my office and the employees, the issues big and small. Setting up all my accounts takes time, too. 

At noon, I take an hour for lunch and usually read a book or watch Netflix. At 5pm, I log off and either make or order dinner. 

Jet lag is rough this time around. On Thursday the worst seemed past; on Friday it was as though I'd only just arrived. A couple of folks have told me it took them two weeks. Half-way there!

Keeping my eye on this coming Thursday, when I'll get another nostril-swab for COVID, and hopefully get my negative results back quickly enough to move to my permanent apartment, though that may happen Friday instead. 

When I get really bored and antsy, I challenge myself to sing and dance my way through every room of the house. Not only does it get me moving, but the echoes sound pretty good sometimes. I try to go up and down the stairs several times a day, a curved, wide staircase that makes me feel like waving each time I reach the bottom. 

It's an anti-climactic beginning to a new adventure, darkened a little by the absence of my furry friend, lightened a little by daily chats with my family and various friends. Next weekend I'll be out and about, hopefully busy meeting new friends and exploring the neighborhood. 

For today, though, my weekend excitement is cooking, doing laundry, watching movies, and listening to the street sounds: the clang of the construction site across the way, the beep-beep-beep of tuk tuks, the shouts of guys hauling carts and selling their wares, car alarms, dog barks, and once, a really noisy cat yowl. 

Day 2 of Quarantine: Arrival Excitement

After a year of learning to read and speak Khmer, a month of hanging out in Durham, a few tearful goodbyes for Jacques, and a penguin hug (don't ask, it's a family thing!) with my parents... it was time to go! 

The trip took about 26 hours: easy quick flight from Durham to Detroit, then a long, tedious flight (13 hours!) to Seoul, South Korea. Quick layover, and then a last five hour flight to Phnom Penh. I was ready to NOT be sitting or on a plane any more after that!

There were a few of us on the plane that are foreign service officers, and we were met by some Embassy local staff who helped us through customs, local government COVID testing, and then into separate vans to take us each to different residences. The house I'm staying for my mandatory 14-day quarantine is huge, which is nice because it gives me something to explore while recovering from jet-lag. My social sponsors, friends I served with in Bamako, stocked my kitchen and got me set up with internet. 

This morning I woke promptly at 6am, and could not for the life of me get back to sleep. I stepped out onto the screened in balcony on the second floor - an area that could easily fit about a dozen queen beds, to give you an idea of size - and watched the construction workers across the street. They were waiting for the foreman to let them into the site and joking around with each other. One, a young man, seemed to be performing for the others, though I couldn't tell you exactly what he was doing. They were all laughing and shaking their heads. Once in awhile, a man pulling a cart full of coconuts would wander down the street, or a tuk tuk would zip past. 

For breakfast, I had passion fruit, toast, and an egg. For lunch, a salad. I'm pondering whether to cook for dinner, or order out - which is easy to do. Last night, I ordered from Pepe's, a French bistro, and had a lovely burrata salad and truffled risotto. 

The time difference between family and here is going to take getting used to - I keep have to remind myself not to text friends in the middle of my day, because it's the middle of their night. I did yoga this morning, and plan to do some kind of workout this afternoon. And maybe take a nap. 

Work starts tomorrow, even from quarantine: there's training to do, and meeting people via Zoom, and checkin in online with various offices. 

Between the boredom and the jet-lag, I find myself filled with excitement. I'm here! I peek out my windows to see as far down the street as I can, but see nothing beyond the construction and a coffee shop. After my quarantine, there'll be no time to explore the neighborhood, as I'll move into my apartment in a slightly different area. 

Can't wait!

Counting Down, Again

It's that time again... time to move to a new country. I've done this twice before with the State Department, and moved from one U.S. state to six times before that. And every time, I feel panicked in the months leading up to the move; confident in the week leading up to the move; and then calmly wondering what I've forgotten in the last few days leading up to the move. 

This time around has been no different, and I am now in the "last few days before the move" period. 

The pre-move bumps have happened and been, if not resolved, at least accepted. My best friend and companion, Jacques, won't be coming with me right away because I can't find an airline solution to getting him there. That's bump one. Bump two was when the shipping company that was going to send 250lbs of my 'stuff' by air, e-mailed me to say that my shipment had been "lost." I have started the claims process with them and with my insurance company as well; and have been shopping for some of the replaceable items in the meantime. 

Is there a third bump in the road? I hope not. I'm both excited - new job doing work I love; new country that is fascinating and beautiful; new people to meet and food to eat - and anxious - COVID; new responsibilities; being so very far from home. It's a healthy mix... right?!

My pre-travel COVID test is scheduled, my suitcases are ready to be packed, and I'm spending good quality time with my parents and Jacques. I visited both grandmothers and other family, and a few friends in the meantime. 

Now to wait and see what travel bumps and rewards await!

 

Hello, New Year ... My Name is Zoë

Much like my various Facebook friends who have posted about bringing in the new year, I am unsure how best to do so. With hope, that change is a-foot? With figurative middle fingers blazing towards 2020 and its drama and death? Or with dread, knowing that the world cannot and will not right itself so quickly?

So, I decided to take a risk for new year's eve this year. These days it's all about gauging risk, right? Should I visit indoors with that friend who had COVID last month, since she's hypothetically immune for at least a little while; go shopping or pay more to do so online to avoid being in indoor spaces with others; visit family; do ANYthing resembling pre-COVID normal. 

Anyway, I decided to take a risk with a friend of mine who still has to work in an office a few days a week. We rented a cabin in West Virginia on the northwest side of Monongahela National Forest and stayed four nights, venturing out each day to explore different parks and short hikes of the area. The weather cooperated mostly, and we were decently enough prepared with warm clothes, boots, and yak-traks for the icy parts. 

It was a lovely get-away! Winter in the Appalachians is beautiful and treacherous and remote. We never got stuck in snow or skidded too hard on ice, but did turn around a few times when the way forward seemed ... well, risky. Jacques allowed me to put on his jacket and booties with minimal fuss and did just fine on the cold ground, trotting along and slipping and sliding with us gamely.

One day trip that was particularly interesting was a visit to the Cranberry Glades Botanical Area, a boggy area of the type to normally be found further north - like, in Canada. In the snow and ice, it was a strange flat-ish area with an icy boardwalk through it, low scraggly plants covering what seemed to be water but was more likely really wet and partially frozen peat. Though pretty in its own way, the interesting wildlife and flowers there were all in hibernation or hiding. After we finished the boardwalk loop through strange scenery, we had lunch on the truck's tailgate. 

Aside from driving to various trailheads and hikes, we enjoyed chatting and catching up. This is a friend I've known since my Air Force days in Montana. We have a comfortable camaraderie built up over the years, able to easily fall in and out of conversation on just about any topic. I brought along Wingspan, a board game created by bird enthusiasts and ornithologists. We learned to play it together and admired the art on the cards and, eventually, the flow of the game. We turned on the gas fireplace, we cooked, we read books.

For New Year's Eve day, which was rainy and icy and cold, we spent the first half lazing about the cabin. I
did some studying, he did some reading. We played Wingspan, made French toast for breakfast. In the afternoon we ventured out to walk in a nearby recreation area which turned out to be just right: muddy but not mucky, drizzly but manageable. Jacques enjoyed some off-leash time. We tried venturing higher up the mountain but were stopped by icy roads covered in cold rain. Once back at the cabin we watched some tv, snacked, talked, and kept eachother awake until midnight. Then, I did my party trick of opening our bottle of bubbly with a kitchen knife, we each drank a mimosa, and finally trailed off to sleep as fog and rain surrounded us. 

In short, my New Year's Eve week was relaxed and in a new place and with a good friend. I feel like that was a great way to bring in the new year, with the things that will surely get me happily through 2021.

Tumultuous Monotony

 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.