four. Cecelia

It turns out there are two Magnolia Restaurants in Phnom Penh. It didn’t take long to figure out that I was at a different one from my friends and found myself walking down the wet streets passing rows of soliciting tuk-tuk drivers in order to find somewhere to eat dinner, alone again.

About a year ago I decided I needed to spend more time doing things alone. Back home, I am always swarmed with events, things to do, and people to do them with. In fact, going to a movie alone, or eating solo at a restaurant even scared me a little.  But, it was been an early realization in my life that when something brings up fear, it almost always means I have a lesson to learn in that area. I also admired woman who made this  “alone time” a loving practice in their lives and so I too started.  I have become much better at it, and I knew that this extended trip oversees’ would supply me with endless practice as this night and many others have proved.  But this Wednesday in particular, I was missing connection, and found myself disappointed that I didn’t have a chance to talk to another human being after working on my computer all day.

Eventually, I found stumbled upon the Top Banana, sat down at the bar and ordered a drink. Within a few minutes, I noticed that singles also occupied the two tables next to me. I began to wonder if they wanted to eat alone, or if they were just like me, new to a city full of expats who were only here for a few months, too short of a time to build relationships perhaps.

Instinctively, I wanted to walk over and ask if they wanted to eat together. They were both older then me- around the age of parents but, the more years you claim the more interesting stories you seem to have. Plus, everyone who finds them selves in Cambodia has an interesting story! It has to be better then sitting at the bar watching the wait staff scurry around in a panicked rush. I sat there for a while…should I just ask them? What was keeping me from doing it?

My roommate called, she was on her way for a drink with me. Still the proposition  kept pulling at my mind so I moved to bigger table. My biggest fear was silly, the worst that could happen was that they said no, and a “no” is really no big deal. Maybe we would disagree on something, but those conversations always seem to help me define my beliefs more, or change my mind which isn’t always a bad thing considering how RIGHT I think I am about certain issues. Maybe it would be awkward and we would have nothing in common? But, that has never been the case for me. I always seem to make friends easily, especially if I am spending time deeply listening to others. If that is the case there is curiosity paralleling no lack of questions. So, I got up with some newfound determination and walked over to the gentleman’s table first then the lady’s. Both smiled then kindly and quickly accepted. So now, three who were eating alone found ourselves sharing our stories on how we arrived in this rainy city and bouncing ideas around about how we are or are not “helping” this beautiful Khmer population as short-term visitors.

It was surely better then having a drink alone wondering what everyone around me was thinking about! Why not just find out!?

Through this I have decided now that we never have to “eat alone” if we don’t want. Don’t get me wrong- it does some courage the first time or two, most things worth anything usually do. I want to be the kind of person who does not have fear about allowing others in my life-even if it is only for the hour it takes to eat dinner.  To be the person you want to be you have to take actions to be that person. You never know whom you will meet, you will always learn something new, and there was so much comfort in knowing even in this big city, I am not as alone as I sometimes talk myself into feeling. In fact that feeling in itself is a choice, and I’ll be the first to admit sometimes it is more comfortable to choose to be lonely, sad, disconnected- then it is to choose to feel apart of things. Happiness takes work.

Over the past few days I have been thinking about how much I would love to live in a world where people ask others to come eat with them when they are alone. What a true sense of community would ignite if we all did this!! I have done this a few times now, and I think it will be a permanent practice in my life as a traveler.

I received and email from Cecelia (turns out she is an Irish ex-teacher who moved to micro-finance, born and raised in New York -now teaching financial skills to Khmer youth at a local NGO), saying thank you and how much she enjoyed our time on Wednesday.  This morning we went to meditation and got lunch again.  She has helped me think more about the urban poor here in Cambodia, and has allowed me to share some of my ideas about change I would like to see for youth and how we can get there as a global community. It’s funny to me that I thought it was such a risk to invite her over for a drink, by not doing that I risked losing a lot more- like a new found friendship. We just don’t seem to think about all the endless possibilities sometimes...

three. The Happy Three

I was kayaking at night on a remote island off the coast of Cambodia. The water lights up with plankton when you touch it. The glowing consumes your body when you swim in it. Words can't express its magic. 

Mesmerized by the light trails of the paddles against the glass water we suddenly hear " Happy" by Pharrell Williams blaring from the other side of the island. I had seen almost no one on the island so I figured, maybe we had been missing party all along(although, that was alright since I came to get away from the bustle of the city). Curiosity always seems to get the best of me, and a beer sounded great so- we kayaked across the cove and  began to realize the song was on repeat. Someone is really happy! Expecting a large party...we walk up the dock to see three men: An Irishman is dancing with his tiny white dog while air boxing, an old fat German man who is surrounded with a cloud of smoke and a permanent smile also shaking his body, and a teenage Cambodian boy dressed like a perfect hipster laughing the whole time and moving his feet across the whole bar. I asked them what they are celebrating and they yell, " WE LIVE HERE! THATS WHAT WE ARE CELEBRATING!" So.....what do we do? We dance too of course! It was the only thing to do with that kind of authenticity- it is contagious and invites you to join immediately.....

The song came on about 5/6/7 more times until we collapsed in our chairs with short quick breaths.  It is at that moment that my sweet Dutch roommate falls in love with the dog and I fall in love with the whole scene filled simply with diversity celebrating the obvious.  We head back through the sparkling waters to our beds hidden under a mosquito net- only a stone's throw from the ocean and open to the fresh air, but covered in case it rains during this season of downpours. Perfect end to a great day.

It seems to be the simplest things that compel us to dance on repeat. I am going to focus on finding more of the obvious joy that exists for all of us everyday, because the reality is- it is there always. 

two. The Angry Man

I got lost on the way to a friends house for dinner. It was after a monsoon, so many of the roads were flooded. My first moto driver wouldn’t take me over flooded water, was annoyed with me, and made me get off. I get it man, it may ruin your bike- no worries. So, I walked. That’s why I am here anyway in this new country isn’t it? Walking through trash filled and muddy flooded waters is not going to kill me. 

After a couple blocks another moto came carefully moving through the water as well and asked if I would like a ride. I jumped on and he took me the final block till the water slowly turned to a puddle. I jumped off, reached in my purse and gave him my last $.75 (except for a few 20’s I have, but motos never have change for something that big). To go all the way across the city is $1. So. I thought this would be plenty, generous in fact. Immediately he got angry and demanded a $1. I told him I didn’t have it. His fists clenched, I got scared, left the money on his seat and walked away. Oh, if only arguments went that way. He followed me, putting his bike in front of me several times, demanding the other $.25. In the end, I got thrown on a wall, eventually ending on the wet ground- and my money taken. 

So this was the beginning of fear, this is what it felt like again. The last ten years in America allowed me the luxury to forget that feeling that starts in your gut and slowly seeps into your heart and mind. That minute was the minute I lost my calm about the city. It is the minute I longed to be home. It is the first time in ten years I wanted to hit someone, but was very aware that I was a woman surrounded by no one to help- except the six men who seemed to be drinking and playing cards down the street. I got up………..

I found my way home from another driver- the kindest moto driver. He smiled at me and in a authentic way told me “good luck” when I opened the door to my building. I could tell that was his limited english telling me, “ I hope you are alright.”  In my mind I thought, “Thanks for the immediate reminder that everyone is individual, and not all moto drivers will push you.” 

I walked into my house, received warmth from my wonderful roommates who had a much more violent experience in Nepal, and went to my room to Skype my sister and tell her I love her. Just in case a next time proves to be not so lenient. 

As emotions usually do, my feelings started to shift again. Once I could calm my fear which so quickly turned to anger and pushed tears from my eyes out of frustration, I just became sad. I realized that in a matter of minutes I was thinking the whole city was unsafe, and I was targeted because of my skin color-a powerful lesson for a white girl from the USA. I was blaming. I was reconstructing my whole life to only go out during the day and only to certain places which meant one cafe to work, and home. I didn’t want to experience anything anymore, not even the good things.  

This is how fear fuels our lives. If we are not aware of it, soon we start shaping it with fear as the foundation. I don’t want my foundation to be made of that.  During my 2 weeks in the city, and 5 weeks traveling, that is the first of countless encounters with people that was negative. And by the way, I am safe, I am home, and I am wiser. 

More importantly, it was the man’s anger that instilled this fear in me. So let’s go deeper. How many other people in this city live with that anger and WHY? How many other people live with fear all the time without support when they come home, or healing that comes from a day off, or time to journal on your mac computer about your experiences? Why was he so angry so quick? What was his moment when he became fearful- I wondered if it was an awful story. Through that anger there seemed to be this NEED for the other $.25 cents. Why didn’t I recognize that and have him take me up a few blocks to the gas station to get change for my $20. 

Because I reacted to his fear, his anger, with more fear and more anger- instead of kindness.  Its scary how contagious it can be. Its ironic that it is hard too see yourself in others when you are reacting the same way.....

The genocide here, the poverty, the strong sex trafficking culture- it seems to be a city that has lots of reasons to be angry. Reasons that I will never be able to understand on a personal level, I hope.

Many of my loved ones spend their time telling me how optimistic I am, but I want to be clear that I am not naive. I know pain well, I used to be lost without it. I simply know now, that pain/fear/anger starts somewhere for all of us, and these feelings cannot come from pleasant beginnings. Fear is a tough and quick process to find, and for me,  it was a longer and even harder  process to live in for years. And fueled by what? Just a few bad experiences out of millions. 

Before I went to sleep I wrote down the times when I had been in his shoes before. When I felt like I had been ripped off, when I hurt someone to get what I want, when I pushed someone when I didn’t have the tools to express what I was thinking. My list was long. 

And so it seems, him and I are not as divided as our argument suggested. 

My gratitude list tonight ended with…….”the space to heal from painful things allowing fear and anger to leave me, the comfort of friends, the need not to take things I may need, the ability to see myself in others.” 

one.

I have been intending on starting a blog as I am one of those lucky ones who has the opportunity to travel the world yet again with the intention of  learning from others as I go. Something has been stopping me from putting my thoughts to the world but tonight in Phnom Penh, Cambodia- in between the beautiful notes at concert with an amazing pianist- I think I have figured out why(although, I have leaned strongly on the excuse that I am ignorant to technology and can’t figure out how to set one up….complete bullshit since I know how to read directions). I am worried about writing perfectly. I am worried about things sounding as perfect as the music that came from the black and white keys, especially coming from a chick who makes mistakes everyday.

So, I am consciously letting that go. Perfection is an insane goal anyway. I am not a musical piece who gets to practice my life everyday in the same way. I am still learning big things let alone figuring the thousands of little things out.

I do know that I learn the most about myself, through relatively short interactions with others. Don’t mistake short for not meaningful. In fact, it is the opposite. These short interactions are ones that deeply affect me- especially when I allow myself quiet spaces in between busy days to think about why my heart, or my head, was directed to a certain reaction with each one. And so, this blog will be about those. This blog will be about continuing to find myself or who I strive to be, through, and with others that I meet along the way. It is in fact the only way I have ever have. Their stories are inherently apart of mine, no matter how small. I am a firm believer that nothing happens on accident. These blogs will be my lessons, my heartache, my joy- as I remember them. I have promised myself to write them that day, to NOT edit how I am feeling as is usually done, and to bring significant thought to what we are doing here in this great big place. This blog is not for those who worry about sentence structure, or the possibility of sometimes sounding silly. I will achieve both with every post I am sure. At times it may be raw. But, for now, I think that is the way to be to find our truths. 

Thanks for following. Send me your thoughts if so inclined. It will only help me continue to move forward in this journey of balance between love and everything else the world throws at us.