Service trip!

Two teachers and I took a week to lead 11th and 12th grade students on three different service trips around Phnom Penh. It was last-minute, stressful to plan, and disorganized. But none of that really mattered: overall, it was amazing. Praise God for how He uses us in our weakness! Photos and details available here.

Go Tectonic Plates!

The local wildlife

My roommates and I are so classy that we keep a giant can of Raid on our kitchen counter. You never live alone when you live in a Cambodian home, and I've grown accustomed to sharing my space with creatures I rarely encountered back in the US. One important lesson I've realized: All creatures are NOT created equal. Some are downright obnoxious, but others are mildly irritating, easy to ignore, even endearing. So, being a good teacher, I've created a quiz for you to test your intuition (and astute memory of previous blog posts) about my experiences with these common creatures. Can you guess which bug or vermin belongs to which description below? Take your best guess, then check against the answer key at the bottom. Post your scores - I'm curious!

a. Mosquitoes
b. Rats
c. Spiders
d. Cockroaches
e. Ants
f. Gecko lizards

1. I think squashed ______ smell like freshly cut grass.
2. After turning on the kitchen light at night, I always hesitate before entering, to allow time for ______ to run out of the room.
3. ______ are much smarter than I’d like them to be: they frequently switch up their favorite hiding spots in my room, and make quick getaways once I’m on the alert.
4. In contrast, I find ______ quite stupid: I always know where they'll hide, and often they run TOWARD me in an attempt to get away.
5. The only creatures that I find satisfying to squash with my bare hands are ______.
6. Fried ______ are said to taste somewhat like Cambodia smells.
7. A 7th grade lesson last year was livened up when a dead ______ fell out of our air conditioner.
8. ______ are responsible for the bloodstains I discover on my bedsheets some mornings.
9. Sometimes we keep dead fish laced with poison under our sink to allure ______ to their doom.
10. ______ are at their peak during cool season, resulting in the fact that I have to keep the fan on even if it means shivering in a sweater. (These days, I shiver in a sweater when it’s about 74 F, so don’t feel too bad for me.)
11. Everyone’s rather fond of ______, even though they often defecate on the walls.
12. I often feel bad for ______ after spraying them with Raid: it takes them so long to die, and they look so pathetic flailing around. So I wait until they're seriously irritating me before I spray them.
13. At the Bible camp last year, I had to comfort girls who were rather disconcerted by the giant ______ and ______ in the cabin and bathroom.
14. Most roads have dead ______ flattened into them.
15. ______ are usually much smaller than the species I knew in America, but can descend by the hundreds in a matter of minutes.
16. A zapper racquet kills ______ in a delightful way that my roommate Michaela refers to as “my own personal fireworks show.”
17. Two ______ live permanently on the kitchen counter, and a third in my bathroom.
18. Most of my Logos friends would agree with me: ______ are far and away our #1 archnemesis. (Hint: And that's not only because they've given some of us dengue fever...)

Answers: 1.E 2.B 3.A 4.D 5.A 6.C 7.F 8.A 9.B 10.A 11.F 12.D 13.C,F 14.B 15.E 16.A 17.F 18.A

Can't leave them behind

French and German and I go waaay back. I had my first French lessons in 3rd grade, when I was still half-homeschooling. I remember struggling to pronounce the date each day: the 1990s were not a good time to start learning! ("1994" alone is 8 syllables.) German started at birth, with my mom trying to alternate between English and German days. It worked great for a year or two, especially since we spent 9 months in Germany before I turned 2. After that, my German was reduced to foods, colors, and random phrases like "straight ahead." Anyhow, by 10th grade, I was in level 3 in both languages, and continued to level 5 by graduation.

I always felt enthusiastic about learning languages in general, as opposed to French and German in particular. In fact, while I felt an affinity for all things German due to my family's connections there, I was apathetic toward France for years. I enrolled at Penn State in the education program for both languages, not intending to spend my life as a French teacher, but supposing that proficiency in three languages would serve me well wherever I went after graduation. I wanted to teach SOMEthing (maybe ESL?) and I was good at those. My decision seemed pragmatic, not passionate.

What changed my mind was my semester in France in 2007. Once France became a real place in my mind, not just the site of castles and cafes and catwalks, I found an affection for it. Finally, French people weren't the little cartoons in my textbooks - they were my host family and classmates and conversation partners. What helped most of all was how different we were: that I had to struggle to relate to them, rather than them being "just like me" but in another language. That struggle helped me define my identity in a deeper way.

Now I finally have a chance to fulfill a dream I've had since college: to learn Cambodia's Khmer language. (Albeit very slowly...new teachers are busy!) I thought I'd be content to throw myself into it and abandon further pursuit of French and German. Instead, I find myself wistful when I hear snippets at the grocery store, fumbling in my head to find words to initiate a conversation. Speakers are abundant in this city full of NGOs, but I'm rarely in their part of town with time to kill, and I don't know any personally. Thus, the Bible and an occasional DVD or online article are now my main sources of foreign-language sustenance. Better than nothing, but I'm missing the conversation component.

In French class last week, I realized I'd forgotten some common everyday words, like closet and pillow - words I never needed in college courses. At the French Cultural Center bookstore, I made mistakes in my chat with the cashier that I've successfully avoided for years. I was rusty, to say the least. I know I'm forgetting German much faster: even after years of study, it's still "use it or lose it." At this point, I could still easily regain fluency if I spent a month immersed in either, but that part of my knowledge is being buried deeper and deeper. I thought I was OK with not using it. I never realized losing my adopted languages would feel like losing part of myself.

Lilies of the field

I've never been very concerned with fashion, let alone gifted at it. I wore 80% pastels until middle school. In college, I decided I was fine with wearing "somewhat ugly" clothes if they were free and comfortable. I still like a hand-me-down sweater I got at age 11. There have always been clothes I liked and clothes I didn't like, but shopping was no fun and neither was parting with clothes that had seen better days.

That's one reason I was nervous before going to France, where fashion is about both self-expression and self-respect. To French minds, my solid-colored shirts with plain necklines and no accessories communicated, "I don't deserve to be noticed." My wardrobe didn't change dramatically when I was there, though I became a bit more adventurous. But I grew to appreciate a bit more their philosophy: that if you care about yourself, you don't wear sweatpants to run errands, and that dramatic earrings can be more about savoring life than about striving to win a beauty contest.

In terms of fashion, Cambodia and I are a good fit. Unlike wealthier Asian capitols (Hong Kong/Seoul/Tokyo), many people here can't afford to obsess about fashion. Conditions also aren't conducive to keeping clothes in top quality. My washing machine is a huge blessing (most Cambodians hand-wash their clothes) but it also wears clothes out much faster than in the US. Many of the clothes I brought are now stretched out, pockmarked, stained with sweat, and/or dyed pink from the red skirt I got at the market last year. On a similar note, my hair is almost never down due to the heat and humidity.

This bothers me much less than a few other teachers, who are used to looking put together, especially for work. At the same time, I am expected to dress professionally at school. Though the administrators aren't too strict - I wore Old Navy flip-flops all spring after my other shoes had all broken - I don't want to look much worse than my students, who wear uniforms that they generally keep in good condition. Fashion doesn't just communicate self-respect; it also can communicate respect for others. Dressing nicely for school is one way to show that I care about my students and that I take my job seriously.

As I live here longer without frequent trips home, more of my clothes are wearing out, and I'm still learning how to replace them. The mall's expensive and stores don't encourage trying things on. Tailors are gifted at copying clothing, and it's a great way to support local business - but it IS more expensive, and the fabric available is limited. Some markets have small stalls with used clothing, which I haven't explored yet. I love thrift shops in the US, but here they seem a bit more daunting. One market has cheap factory rejects, many of which are small and/or teenybopperish, but some of which are great. Jeans and shoes might be nearly impossible here: I'm half a foot taller than the average girl. I'm set on clothes for a while, but eventually I'll need to brave the world of shopping, Cambodia-style.



At the moment, I have two main categories of clothes: teaching clothes, and jogging clothes (along with ratty/stained former teacher clothes). If I want to look kind of nice (ex. church), I wear teacher clothes. If I don't care (ex. Saturdays at home), I wear jogging clothes. Because every time I wear my old gross clothing is one MORE time I'll be able to wear my nice clothing later on.

But in which contexts am I supposed to care how I look? Downtown, clothing is mostly a status symbol. Rich Cambodians dress up to run errands; poor Cambodians wear pajama-style outfits or work clothes or whatever they have. My roommate Megan and I agree that we see clothes largely as a social norm. I'm happy wearing nearly any type of clothing that is considered acceptable in the culture where I live. (Thus, the pajamas and crazy T-shirts ubiquitous here seem more and more appealing to me.) But I'm still working on figuring things out. If I want to live cheaply and simply, does it seem insulting to a restaurant owner when I walk in wearing stained capris and I can clearly afford something better? If most of my students are upper-class and have cute clothing, should I wear a more casual "teacher shirt" or can I get away with an old wrinkled T-shirt? For now, I guess I'll stick with what I have, and do my best to dress acceptably. But if you see a tall blonde girl in Phnom Penh wearing new floral pajamas, you can guess her name.

Christmas shenanigans

Last year for Christmas, I did diddly-squat of my own initiative. I was trying to survive writing and grading final exams, moving the school, subbing for a friend's kindergarten class, cleaning for my new roommate to move in, and more. So besides attending the Christmas concert and caroling, my Christmas celebration consisted of drinking iced coffee with my roommate at a local cafe.

This year, I knew I needed more. And so did my friends. All five of us at my house, plus two other teachers, are here in Phnom Penh for at least Christmas day, if not the entire 2 1/2 weeks. And we now have an oven, as well as a clearer idea of where to find ingredients. (Even if it DID require trips to all three international grocery stores.) I think we've done a pretty good job, if I say so myself.
Sarah and I went old-fashioned and stuck cloves into oranges. They smell amazing! Michaela had snuck the pine cones back into Cambodia after our visit to Korea, since conifers only exist in one province of Cambodia.

Mmm, neon frosting! High school girls, and an alumna, got into the reason for the season: sugar cookie decorating. (Didn't the shepherds bring a plateful for Mary and Joseph?)

You'd never know this was their first time: they did outstanding work. We took some to share with our landlords and neighbors, who were a bit taken aback. Yesterday, we made four other types of Christmas cookies over at the Roberts' house, who, with 18 people in town, don't much notice if a few more tag along.

Sarah's "little angels" (grade 1) were all hyped up for their part in the elementary Christmas concert. This year the staff also performed two songs at the middle/high school concert. It was a first at Logos and I enjoyed being in choir again - it's been a while!

"There, I fixed it!" Outlets here are made with holes big enough to accommodate numerous plug types: Korean/European/US plugs all fit in. Sometimes these large holes mean that numerous plug types fall out of them. But when masking tape wasn't strong enough to keep the extension cord plugged in, our spatula saved the day.

Tina, a dear friend from Doylestown, gave me this gift a couple years ago. Named Oh Deer: the Super-Duper Reindeer Pooper, it's a plastic reindeer that...um, dispenses...jelly beans. I decided to use it as a prize for a competition to name a one-eyed snowman that a former teacher left behind.

The competition was on! I received about 50 suggestions from students.

See the snowman's glittery eyepatch? The winner, pictured here, was determined to win Oh Deer. Instead of her slips of paper containing merely name ideas, she wrote a paragraph on each one, adding, "P.S. Have a poopin' Christmas! I want a poopin' deer!" This additional interest and effort did not go unnoticed. Her winning name idea was Noon, which means both "Snow" and "Eye" in Korean. Runners-up were Jayavarman (the Cambodian king who built Angkor Wat) and Super-Duper Eyeless Cooper.

I don't have photos, but we've much enjoyed the Christmas music that has pervaded life recently. A Korean church choir performed two masses - one Vivaldi, one gospel - that were really neat. Last night's Christmas carol service continued in the Roberts' van on the way home. And our house has heard lots of spontaneous singing.

Christmas is pretty low on the radar here in Phnom Penh - a few strings of lights, Santa cutouts on the doors of a few shops, that's about it. And the 90-degree weather doesn't add much to the "Christmas spirit." This can be annoying, but it's thus easier to remember WHY Christmas matters: God becoming a baby, bringing light to a people trapped in darkness. Still, I really appreciate carrying on Christmas traditions: my own and my friends'. It's one way to be myself, even when I'm far from home.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Out of the frying pan

It's a weird feeling to miss a national tragedy. It's also a weird feeling to walk into one.

If you follow the news, you may have heard about last Monday's stampede in Cambodia, just hours before the attacks on North Korea. Thousands panicked on a bridge while celebrating Cambodia's Water Festival, which draws two million visitors from the provinces. About 350 died, mostly of suffocation; about 400 more were injured. Prime Minister Hun Sen called it the greatest tragedy since the Khmer Rouge's era in the 1970s.

I was en route to the airport when it occurred, traveling during the holiday to a teaching conference in Seoul. So I didn't hear about it until Tuesday noon, about the time that the bombing was taking place on the same island as the airport. Instead of being able to mourn with Cambodians, to ask my friends and neighbors about it, or even to read updates online last week, my firsthand experiences were watching Koreans react to their own turmoil.

Trying to piece things together since my return, I'm struck by the fear and the corruption that pervade Cambodia. Most Cambodians are Buddhist/animist and live in fear of wandering spirits. For example, the spirits of victims were blamed for a subsequent bus crash where everyone died.

Cambodians try to assuage the spirits' wrath by leaving offerings, especially bananas, in the spirit houses outside their homes. The price of bananas rose drastically from $0.50 a bunch - I've heard estimates on maximum prices ranging from $2.50 all the way to $25 a bunch. Fruit sellers can't afford to pass up extra profit any more than the rest of Cambodia. I can't imagine the fear of everyone who couldn't afford the elevated prices, wondering if the hungry and offended spirits would lash out at them in the night.

The police's response during the stampede was vastly inadequate and understaffed. Better planning could have prevented the entire thing. Since then, the government hasn't much improved its handling of affairs. Hospitals were overwhelmed with the injured. Hospital workers demanded payment, though the government offered to cover costs of treatment. Prime Minister Hun Sen promised money to victims' families, and the bodies all disappeared from hospitals within 24 hours. It's impossible for all the families from the provinces to have arrived so quickly and accurately identified their loved ones. More likely, people who wanted that money claimed a relation or promised to track down the family somehow. Many of those families will never receive confirmation of their loved one's death, let alone a body to bury or the promised payment.

Talking about anything sex-related is strictly taboo in Cambodia, but death isn't hidden at all. Those TV reports I missed showed all kinds of graphic footage: people jumping off the bridge to their deaths, bodies piled up, and so on. Michaela and Sarah had to spend a large chunk of Monday morning helping their 5- to 7-year-old students process what they had seen. Our friend Sophorn was walking by a hospital where all the bodies were laid out. She couldn't sleep for four days because of the flood of haunting memories.

What's even sadder is the demographics of victims. Many or most were visiting from the provinces, on possibly their one trip a year to the city, a rare chance to enjoy themselves. Most were children, teens, and twenty-somethings: the next generation of workers. They were there with siblings and cousins, meaning most families who were affected lost multiple relatives. One girl at Logos knows of someone whose sixteen relatives visited her from the province; all sixteen perished. How can a family of rice farmers overcome such a loss of laborers? In a society where children are the only retirement plan, how will the older generation of this family survive after such devastation?

Pari, a senior girl dear to my heart, is the only Logos student I know who was present on that island. Fifteen minutes before, she'd tried to get on the bridge and concluded it was too crowded. She wandered away toward another route, unaware of the devastation until late that evening. Praise God for protecting her for the umpteenth time in a life full of extreme hazards.

I was so moved by the faith of South Koreans and by their fervent, compassionate prayers for their North Korean counterparts. Prayer is the only logical response to events like this. Please pray for Cambodia.

"Wait! I'm not in the picture!"

Hat ladies

The senior trip was fantastic, in my opinion. And not because I helped plan it! I hate being in charge of large events, and this was my biggest yet. But instead of being draining and nerve-racking as I had feared, it proved a lovely chance to relax with students and explore major questions together of God's call in our lives and the strengths He's given us.

"Come be a fool...a fool for Christ!" The message on these shirts resonated with students so much more than I'd expected.

One of the best aspects was the disregard for time. At summer camp, or last year's Bible camp, we were always reinforcing the message, "Be here at this time! Let's hurry so we can cram everything in!" It's kind of necessary when you're corralling eighty students, or two hundred.

The rickety path out to the edge of the mangrove forests...it seems we'd taken a wrong turn...

But fourteen is another story. Can we skip the beach when it starts raining and just hang out in our rooms? Sure we can! Can priceless conversations occur while in those rooms? Absolutely! Do we have time to learn the Virginia Reel before devotions tonight? I don't see why not. And during said devotions, can we spend 45 minutes on worship, leave out half the lesson, and start an entirely unplanned discussion? Yes, indeed.

Conquering the hill

Being a teacher, I've learned to segment each class period, to squeeze eight activities into 90 minutes, to finish within seconds of the bell ringing. It was good for me to leave my time-oriented tendencies at home and let activities expand or go a new direction.

We were going to divide into two groups to come back in the SUV, but the guys realized they could just cling to the outside of the car on the ten-minute drive home. This is Cambodia, after all!

Mixed in with the profound was a great deal of the goofy. We made up challenges for each student to complete on two different days. One had to kiss someone's hand every time anyone sneezed; another had to jump into every photo and complain when left out; another had to call everyone by their first and last names all day. (She was self-conscious doing that with teachers - it was pretty entertaining!) When we tramped through clay on our way to a waterfall, one student seized the chance for a free makeover, convincing several of us to join in.

The ringleader, at left, later developed a rash. It was worth it, though!

This class is close-knit, even compared to most Logos classes, and seems more sincere in their faith than many. They're wrestling with big questions as they start applying to college. Where in the world do I belong? How can I be myself and still respect my parents' expectations? How can I relish my friendships at Logos without being afraid of the goodbyes...possibly forever...next spring? Can I make it on my own in another world, far from anyone I know? They've been learning about God's provision and faithfulness through studying Isaiah and through the challenges of senior year, college applications, TOEFL and SAT exams, and family difficulties.

This girl and I had a great conversation during the boat ride. She was terrified of clambering on the rocks up to the waterfall but grew to enjoy it by the end.

This trip was a great place to discuss those questions and what they've been learning. We got to encourage them that these challenges will ultimately strengthen them. All three of us teachers were overwhelmed by the privilege of seeing their faith, of drawing close to them, and of investing in the lives of such eager and passionate brothers and sisters in Christ.

One means of strengthening: push-ups over a crevice