thinkBlue

Cambodia Haunts

2011-11-19T14:28:00.001-08:00

It's finally that time of the semester. My human rights class has stumbled on the topic of human trafficking. It is research paper season. Time to look back at Cambodia.

This time, I'm reading about Cambodia's history from a grad carrel at the Rockefeller Library. The mahogany desk bordered by sober rows of metal bookshelves is a decidedly different setting from the temporary desk I had at the Phnom Penh Post. Gone are the sweeping views of Phnom Penh along the Tonle Sap River. But the hum of the fluorescent lighting is the same - and so is the thrill of research.

I wish I'd discovered one of the books I'm looking at, Sex Trafficking, Human Rights, and Social Justice, when I was writing my feature on the Cambodian Prostitution Union last year. The impetus for writing the feature was my fascination with the concept of fighting sex trafficking and rampant prostitution by empowering the prostitutes with peer education and a support system. This non-judgmental approach excluded them from Cambodian and U.S. funding - the first, because prostitution was outlawed in 2008, the latter because the U.S. passed a law in 2002 that forbade funding to groups that did not directly denounce prostitution.

The book summarizes the resulting problems succinctly: "Pressures to generate arrests and locate undocumented "trafficked" sex workers spur law enforcement officials to crack down on brothels, rather than more hidden sites of labor exploitation. As new policies target undocumented workers, more and more migrants subject to forced labor and exploitation are ignored because the policy only focuses on trafficking victims within the sex industry. 'Combating sex trafficking while ignoring other is equally injurious forms of exploitation' (Brennan 2008)" (Zheng, pg. 6).

Basically, in two pages the book neatly organized the issues I'd read about and had floating in my head all year. I find this encouraging in some ways. But even more so, it's making me realize that I have way more to learn, and that with more details, as always, the issue is about to get a lot more complicated...

Back in the WA

2011-04-13T08:11:00.000-07:00

It's a bit ironic: now that my "Google AdSense" widgets are finally working on this blog, I've relocated from Guatemala City to my University Place, WA hometown.

Reasons? For a variety of reasons...it was a difficult decision because Olympika Gymnastics gave so much to me - the families, the coaches, the opportunity to see new things, and that ever-present sense of adventure shared by all the great guy coaches there.

What ultimately kicked me into gear to come home was the ever-present issue of safety. Although the city is way more developed than Phnom Penh, Cambodia, high crime and extortion scared me enough to come home (97.8% of murders go unprosecuted; gated communities with high fences with barbed wire and 24-hour security guards are a must for safety). When my neighbors were held hostage until the husband delivered US$1,000 and my neighborhood continued experiencing gang-related robberies, I got to thinking. The constant vigilance (after 3 months in Cambodia) tired me out and had me pondering steps I could take to advance my career in terms of summer jobs and internships elsewhere.

So now I'm home - looking to freelance, and on the prowl for summer PR/Communications internships or short term jobs (preferably with an international focus) before I start studying for my Master's at Brown this fall .

So that's what's new! I will miss the opportunities to see more and further my Spanish, but for some reason I'm appreciating my family and friends back home more than ever. I hope to hold onto the friendships I made in Guatemala and return for a backpacking trip someday.

Life is short, and I felt the need to make a decision quickly. I want to say thank you to Guatemala - thank you to Kent for giving countless car rides to Safe Passage and the gym (I owe you!!!), to Bob for showing me the essence of Guatemala (so that I could appreciate the freedom and wild, diverse beauty of the country), to Raul for showing me what it means to have true passion on the job every day, and to the families and girls of the gym for always welcoming me with a smile on their face and a nice place to stay.

Thanks, Guate. It was an experience I'll always remember.

Third world country? Some time in the sun in Monterrico

2011-03-30T09:53:00.000-07:00

We hopped into an assortment of Land Rovers and Toyota Excursions, plopped the kids in the backseat, and loaded the cars with tons of food (crusts for pizza, mangoes and apples, pasta, and tuna, lettuce and bread for sandwiches) to last the weekend.

We sat for one painstaking hour in city traffic, waiting to get out. We stopped by Mcdonald's on the outskirts of the city, then zoomed past toll roads, farm lands, and gas power plants.

But when we arrived to a beautiful cluster of white beach condos, we knew it was all worth it.

It sounds like an average American vacation in the states. It could have been a trip in New Jersey to the "shore", or in New Hampshire to Rye Beach. From the Coronado Cays to the oceanfront for a picnic in San Diego, CA. Or even our two hour journey to Ocean Shores from Tacoma, Washington.

But no - I was with a bunch of families from the gymnastics gym in Guatemala. And we were headed to one family's beach condo in Monterrico, Guatemala.

Black volcanic sand. Palm trees. A gigantic pool that snaked under bridges and into every corner of the complex's courtyard. Speakers playing Latino and American music. Headphones, a book, and a reclining lounge chair. Pure bliss.

Minus the sunburn still on my back. But other than that, pure bliss.

One of the gym coaches was like, "You didn't think you'd be getting this when you came to Guatemala, did you?" I laughed and shook my head. "Yeah, you show these pictures to your friends and they won't believe you're in Guatemala!"

No joke. the conclusion I've reached is that nice beach locales are pretty much the same everywhere. Sand, surf, and sun. Except for here (in comparison to places in the northern "Estados Unidos"), the water was pretty warm, and the waves were huge.

I'm grateful to the families here for welcoming us gymnastics instructors with open arms and treating us to just another weekend of family fun in Guatemala. Thank you, Guatemala, for showing me a good time. (And for the bonus tan!)

The magic of Pacaya

2011-03-22T21:00:00.000-07:00

From the top - with Kent's mom. Volcan Agua sits to the right.

Lord of the Rings moment. Pacaya's crater in the background.

Pacaya from afar.

Creepy doll head on the way up. Lake Amatitlan in the background.

After a couple of weeks nary a post, I believe last weekend's excursion up Pacaya warrants some quality blog time.

I'd known I wanted to climb at least one volcano in my time here, and the Spring Break visit of the family my Olympika colleague Kent was the perfect opportunity.

Let me begin by saying that volcanoes are part of the mystical beauty of Guatemala. They surround the city, add perceived depths to area lakes, and provided terrain suitable for guerrilla rebels during Guate's 36-year Civil War.

They can be unpredictable, tempestuous, and passionate. Hmm. A lot like Guatemala.

The last volcanic eruption took place last May - during Olympika's own Copa Olympika gymnastics meet. Ash came pouring down, spewed from Pacaya, shortly followed by a torrential downpour (it WAS the rainy season) that caused mudslides and damage that still hasn't been completely fixed.

So we were going to climb that very volcano. YAY. Gotta experience the true Guate, baby.

And really, nothing about the climb was too arduous, intense, or rugged. It was an hour's hike up well-worn dirt roads with a Guatemalan guide (who spoke only Spanish) and looked to be in his early teens. But then again, he could have been older. Nutritional deficiencies often make older people look younger in the countryside and highlands.

Other people followed us from the base of the hike, peddling horse rides as an alternative to climbing via exercise/legs.

"No, gracias," I smiled as one boy nagged me for the 15th time about the benefits of climbing on horseback. "Me gusta hacer ejercicio!!" Good god. He didn't get the hint until we were like 10 minutes from timberline.

And that was when things got interesting. As we snapped photographs, I had this all-consuming feeling that I was in a Lord of the Rings movie, about to drop the ring into the crater looming above our heads. Seriously. I was looking for Smeagol, waiting for him to pounce on me any second, hissing "My precious...."

Luckily we merely trudged higher to the level wonderland beneath the crater. Beautiful photo ops, caves full of a heat that made them more like saunas, and random pits that would set logs logs on fire when tossed into their depths.

Pacaya. So this is what a volcano is like, up close and personal. The sun set as we slid along the shortcuts down hill, filling our shoes with lava ash and trying not to sprain ankles. Man, that guide liked to travel fast.

The lights of Guatemala City glittered in the background and I couldn't help but think: this is living. Volcanoes really exist. There are places that have sauna-like caves. And it's all there for the taking, if you're up for it. It just comes down to desire.

PS - KELLI and anyone else who visits - we will climb Pacaya! :)

Lago de Atitlan

2011-02-22T12:13:00.000-08:00

Lago. De. Atitlan.

Refreshing. Caliente. Beautiful.

I set eyes on the splendor of Guate's Lake Atitlan Saturday afternoon and saw immediately why it's included on the list of "1,000 Places to See Before You Die." About a 3 hour ride from Guatemala City, you can zig zag on the mountain roads and speed as fast as possible for earthly vehicles, but once you arrive at Atitlan, all you can do is humbly submit yourself to the wonder of nature and enjoy the ride, even if it means slowing way way down.

The town of Panajachel, accessible by a car ride down steep volcanic ridges, is the largest tourist town on the lake. Bars, hotels, boats, tuk-tuks, hippies, restaurants, artisan markets - you name it. It was easy for my coworkers and I to find a place to stay for $5 a night (40 Quetzales).

After all, all you really need is a bed to rest in after days full of trekking through neighboring towns and hitting up the various bars.

Empanadas with Chimichurri at the Argentinian pizzeria served as an ample caloric substitute to excess drinking on Saturday night. The cheese-filled ones were the best (preceded by cheesy burritos on the street - so-called "gringas").

The towns of Santiago and San Pedro were accessible by a 45 minute boat ride across the placid blue of the lake. Santiago features a room for worshippers of the Mayan saint Maximom - consisting of a wooden statue of the saint surrounded by candles and offerings of cigars and alcohol. Two men poured liquor down Maximom's throat between chants in an ancient Mayan language indecipherable to Spanish or English speakers. The throat clicking definitely added a bit of mystique to the ceremony.

Outside of Guatemala City, most women wear traditional Mayan clothing, tortillas are still made piping hot and chargrilled streetside, and restaurants advertise $2 breakfasts of beans, eggs, and plaintains with Nescafe. It's a land unto itself - yes, it features modern ATMs and bathrooms (though you're lucky to find hot water in showers for rooms $5 a night or less), but the culture is distinctly Mayan.

After a final jaunt to Chichicastenango to look at the legendary market, Kent, Bob and I lunched on pollo a la plancha with salad and rice before calling it a weekend and heading back to Guatemala City. The closer we got, the more and more the radio DJs talked exclusively in Spanish. In the highlands, it's all a mixture of Spanish and the various Mayan tongues.

Swimmers bathing in the 80 degree sun, hippies lounging in the backpacker alleys of San Pedro, and public boat drivers zooming across the water.

One month in and still so much more to see. There's nothing quite like Guatemala.

Bus

2011-02-22T12:04:00.000-08:00

One snapshot of life in Guate:

After doing my grocery shopping at the Maxi Bodega down the road, I stepped onto the bus with a "Buenas Tardes" for the driver.

I was lucky today: one look down the aisle and I found an empty seat for myself and my groceries. We took off with a lurch, zig zagging back into traffic.

And then we stopped without a reason - at least that's how it appeared at first. I watched the guy who collects money on the bus step out to a roadside stand and buy two huge fleshy wedges of watermelon. While the bus started moving, he jumped on and grabbed the handrail, handing a slice to the driver.

For the rest of the drive, there sat the driver at work, taking gigantic bites out of a watermelon with one hand, driving with the other, and comprehending bus stop requests from the riders.

Latin music blared from the stereos and the mid-day rush of schoolkids, moms, and a few randoms enjoyed the public transportation of the Quetzal nation.

Danza Kuduro

2011-02-18T19:29:00.001-08:00

"Muelve la cabeza danza kuduro..."

Bit of Central American culture for you.

This coming April 9 is Tigo Fes t - this guy (Don Omar), Franco de Vita, Belanova, and more...including..SHAKIRA will perform April 9 here in Guatemala City.

The strong mix of latin music and U.S. top 40 blasting on the speakers of buses, taxis, and in gas stations ensures rhythm seeps into everyday life here. You've got to admit, the tunes spice up the normal workday...

San Juan Obispo and Antigua. Round II

2011-02-13T07:04:00.000-08:00

Antigua

San Juan Obispo - on the way to see Francisco

Yesterday I found myself sipping pure chocolate caliente in a small home nestled into the mountains of San Juan Obispo.

I stared in wonder at the creations of a Jade craftsman named Francisco. Dark green stones, whitish stones, necklaces, pendants hanging on leather chains, diamond saws for his carpentry...While trying to focus on his spanish phrases, I watched as he poured water on green speckled stone to show it was pure Jade. The water slid off smoothly; leaving the rock he finds on monthly mountain hikes clean.

His was just one of the homes perched on the hillsides of the small mountain town I visited with fellow Olympika Gymnastics coach Bob. It was lovely experiencing the hospitality of the townspeople he's known for years after working a nearby NGO similar to Safe Passage, called Common Hope.

Surrounded by beautiful conversations en español, hopping onto crowded buses, jumping out of the back onto the dusty cobblestone streets, and sipping melon smoothies made me realize why people come to Guatemala and stay.

My second weekend in Antigua and surrounding area officially left me wondering if my proposed 6 month adventure was long enough.

***

Really, strolling around downtown Antigua is to set foot in a place brimming with colonial color and style. Central Parque feels like the middle of a small Spanish town - pillars, modern and stylish cafes, benches, elaborate churches, and European fountains.

Que Bonito.

It makes sense, though - since Antigua was once the capitol of all of Central America when the conquistadores came to town.

I'm lucky enough to have a place to stay at a gorgeous house a 20 minute walk away from the city...so I had the freedom to meet up with some other volunteers and explore a bit more yesterday, my second weekend here. More market stuff and peering into houses with gigantic courtyards and fountains.

Looks can be deceiving here. It's incredible (¡Es increíble!) what lies behind the wooden gates and pueblo walls nestled next to the tiny street sidewalks. Just open one door and you're in colonial Spanish paradise - complete with the homeowner's pets (most often dogs and many times colorful Central American birds).

Hop onto a bus for a 5 minute side trip and you'll find yourself in the pueblo of San Juan Obispo. (Not to be confused with San Luis Obispo in Cali - yeah that's a shout out to you, former SLO resident and Cal Poly Rep Katie B. Word!)

Warm sun, colder nights out, and taking in the local guatemalan dance/bar scene. Looks like I have a lot to learn from confident latina women. The salsa moves confound me. Then there's more food, the potential of visiting the coast, mayan ruins...and I haven't even climbed the volcanoes yet.

Oh, Guatemala. Beautiful, troubled, and exotic. You are just getting more and more interesting.

Settling in

2011-02-09T07:32:00.000-08:00

Sprawling highways in the mountains. Giant shopping malls, palm trees, and sunshine splashing my face on a moto ride uphill to the gymnastics gym. Mayan blankets at the markets, eggs and frijoles for breakfast, and coffee grown on the local mountainsides (the birthplace of Starbucks coffee beans!)

My first two weeks gave me a small glimpse of life in Guatemala. And I feel that it's only now that my journey is really beginning.

This week marked my first in the volunteer program at Safe Passage. The non-profit organization aims to reinforce education for the families who work in the Guatemala City dump - currently Central America's largest landfill and the storage place for 1/3 of the country's waste. Many parents sniff glue all day to escape the toxic environment that surrounds them while they scavenge for discarded artifacts to sell.

The Guatemala City Dump

The hope is that by educating the children and reinforcing educational values, more and more children will find opportunities outside of the dump and the need for the org will become obsolete.

My first day was Monday - in the kitchen for a week to improve my Spanish. I spent the morning hours chopping "zanahorias" (carrots) and trying to converse in rapid Spanish with the cooks. God am I slow!! The cooks were all good natured and kept encouraging me as I struggled to find Spanish equivalents for what I was saying.

At some point we talked about going out to dance, and settled on the discussions of "novios." One single cook and I decided that it was nice if the prospective boyfriend was "guapo" or handsome, but it was "mas importante" that he be "inteligente y simpatico."

So food, serving children milk, laughing with the cooks, and lunching with the volunteers gave me a comprehensive introduction to the efficient and successful organization that is Safe Passage. Hoping to help out with the English-Language web site and blog next week after a Skype session with the U.S. Communications Officer.

I'll talk more of Antigua, coaching upper class guatemalans, and future travels soon! I'm off for a run within my development and exploring a bit before heading off to coach another practice.

Buenos Dias.

¡Bienvenida a Guatemala!

2011-01-28T13:11:00.000-08:00

As I looked out the window from the plane flying into the country, I was struck by the number of houses and tall buildings I saw. Nice paved roads wove in and out of the green valleys. It resembled a latina version of L.A. By my estimate from the air, it looked like Guatemala was miles ahead of Cambodia, development-wise.

The "Cambio" counter for currency exchange was a bit more intimidating - the guy started off speaking Spanish to me, unlike Cambodia (where they wouldn't even attempt to speak Khmer with a foreigner). My face flushed immediately as I struggled to understand his quick Spanish chatter...eventually I gave up and we conversed in English (for a pretty bad exchange rate, as I fit the ignorant American bill perfectly.)

Lesson one: to be legit in a Spanish-speaking country, one must become proficient in Spanish.

When I walked through the airport and luggage area, I was more and more convinced that I had been totally unprepared for the third world nature of Cambodia - and Guatemala would be more like a Spanish version of America.

And for the most part, that's what it's seemed like - at least for the last 48 hours. McDonald's are classy establishments, Chili's and Applebee's sit attached to huge malls just like the U.S., and the highways (albeit more confusing than the U.S.), appear to have been built according to some semblance of a plan.

Now, keep in mind that I'm coaching at a gym for upper-class Guatemalans and staying with one of the coaches por el momento...so I'm not getting a holistic view of the country. That will all change next week when I start volunteering.

But yeah - gymnastics in Guatemala. Believe it or not, level 5 is the most competitive - the level where parents fit the "gym mom and dad" stereotype and look for cut-throat training. Very ironic, since that stuff doesn't happen till at least level 8 and up in the U.S.

So I'm working with levels 1-7 on mostly beam and floor. The moment I stepped into the gym, it was like I picked up something I hadn't even realized had been missing from my life for the last 9 months or so. My attitude was admittedly cavalier toward gymnastics at the end...but there really isn't a sport that makes exercise as fun, exciting, and challenging as gymnastics. Take that element, mix it with the laid back attitude of guy gymnasts and instructors proficient in "tricking," and you get a pretty fun gym with cool people to work with.

I'm enjoying my time so far. Ready to absorb as much as I can in this given moment. And I'm even enjoying the occasional flipping mixed with conditioning after each workout. Vivando la vida buena.

Presidential election 2011

2011-01-15T08:52:00.000-08:00

Besides the usual semi-alarming news updates about bus bombs in Guatemala City and the spilling over of the drug war in the northern province of Alta Verapez, I had the opportunity to read a very informative article on Guatemalan politics with my coffee this morning in the Guatemalan Times.

Among the juicy tidbits was an excerpt pointing out key parts of corruption in the electoral process:

"Basically the elections are in the hands of the same people who have shown little regard for the criteria of honorability for selecting candidates for judges, magistrates and attorney general last year. These entities where criticized last year for including a number of inadequate candidates in their nomination lists. Some of them had criminal backgrounds, others where linked to illegal adoptions, others had pending legal processes, others did not meet academic qualifications, or where family members of other important judiciary functionaries, which disqualified them."

Yikes. Read on for more:

A glimpse at Guatemala’s election panorama 2011

Some Thailand pics

2011-01-12T21:47:00.000-08:00

And about two weeks before I head to Guatemala...official documentation of my week in Thailand (missing a lengthy blog post). What happened during that trip was magical: a vacation in what I describe as a "Buddhist America." I even found the time to watch Harry Potter 7 on my last night there - a perfect way to take advantage of a city with a movie theater! (Phnom Penh is lacking)

My exit from customs landed me straight into the welcoming arms of Mind Stantus, a lei of flowers, and a quick trip to a Thai restaurant close to their home. The food? Pure heaven. From the moment I lifted my pint of Thai beer and yelled, "Cho moi!" with the family, I knew I was in for a week of sensory overload. The Grand Palace, Buddhas, Meditation, Thai Massage, Pad Thai, Yellow Curry, Canals, Wat Arun, Pattaya, and the markets...all of the above, and more. Thailand = happiness.

Home for the holidays, with Guatemala around the corner

2010-12-20T17:33:00.000-08:00

A stunning Sunday morning on the Puget Sound in University Place, Washington

On my 35 hour trip home, all I could do was praise the lawd for giving mankind the Seoul Incheon Airport. It comes complete with a sleeping lounge for travelers who have long layovers and - in my case - TWO red eyes (back to back).

I enjoyed my 9 hour layover. Had a two hour nap, lovely spicy octopus bimbambo with rice for lunch, and a lengthy shower in the travel lounge. Thank you Korea, indeed.

However, by the end of the trip I was trying not to drool or sleep with my mouth open in the tiny plane from L.A. to Seattle. I don't think I succeeded. Whatever - made it to baggage claim and the welcoming arms of my mother...and our lovely 2006 Toyota Highlander.

I was back. I came from sunshine and 80 degrees to a 48 and overcast Seattle skyline, but I was home.

This time felt different than coming home from college. I was refreshed and eager for more. And, according to plan, tickets have been purchased for a trip to Guatemala this January.

I branched out in Cambodia - scratched the surface of international travel for 3 months...in January, I'll leave for a longer journey, coaching gymnastics part time and working for an NGO part time in Guatemala City. Arriba! Time to become proficient at espanol. (at least I hope to!)

Going to Cambodia made me realize how much more I have to learn and how many possibilities there really are out there.

But first? Family time, Christmas, hardcore freelancing...and grad school apps.

Until next time,

Keels

Asia: Accepting Another Ending

2010-12-13T19:37:00.000-08:00

The ubiquitious children selling flowers on the lakeside (backpacker zone)

Mosque on Boeng Kak Lake (currently being pumped with sand for future property development, forcing villagers to relocate)

On a boat ride to the island of Kohkret in Thailand with the WONDERFUL Mind Stantus

With Mind and Nat in Pattaya, Thailand

It's strange to sit at the desk in my apartment for one of the last times, looking at the hustle and bustle of the Russian Market before I begin the packing process.

Months ago the real estate agent Hem Kosal brought me up five flights of stairs to this apartment. I said I'd move here without a second's hesitation, taking in the sweeping views of the city, large upstairs deck, and giant king-sized bed.

The haze of pollution on the city streets in Cambodia was still fresh and alien to me; a population who ate noodles for breakfast, bargained for grocery items, and considered a meal above $5.00 to be a bit pricey.

Of course, my imminent departure has me rifling through the random records I have of my personal thoughts since leaving for Cambodia. They lie scattered across various Word documents, notebooks, and pieces of scratch paper, sandwiched between the pages of travel books. They document moments of homesickness, shock, discovery, and happiness.

As I sat in LAX on September 7, before my flight to Korea (surrounded by Koreans), I summarized my anticipation:

"Ready to fly to Korea (for that 12 hour layover), and see what’s in store for me on this trip and in my life. Stay aware, try new things. Accept that I’ll make some mistakes. Learn from them. Change. Let this place make a positive mark on me..."

A bit cheesy, no?

Still, I'd like to think I learned in the way I'd set out to back in September. Cambodia has given me so much: expanding my community of friends (a community that likes to say "why not?" no any suggestion, however preposterous), teaching me independence (often times the hard way), and the true value of money (my concept of the American dollar will be forever changed after attempting to rely on 8,000 riel (US $2) a day for a couple of weeks last November.)

There were good times and bad times. Three weeks into Cambodia, my desire to continue traveling for a year had evaporated. All I wanted to do was fly home and crawl back to my circle of childhood and collegiate friends; back to anything familiar and safe. At one point in early October I referred to my apartment as a "hotel," not really mine. I wanted to go back to roads that had traffic safety rules, to a land free from the hassle of tuk tuk drivers, to a place I could wear short shorts and a tank top without feeling the eyes of Cambodian males on me.

Yet, in October, something changed. I met some people who really made me question what I wanted, who embodied that "why not?" attitude so many people over here live by. I pushed past the homesickness, to the outlook on life I had been looking for, convinced that friendships and a future are not dependent on a place but solely on one's attitude. I began to see new possibilities for my future. Slowly, I opened myself up to the unpredictability of life. And I began to feel almost settled here, with a comforting network of friends.

The warm hospitality of Dan and Mind Stantus in Thailand toward the end of my trip was especially comforting. The image of Mind welcoming me with outstretched arms and a necklace of flowers at the Bangkok airport will stay with me for the rest of my life. To be taken care of during my time in Thailand was such a treat after navigating the ins and outs of Phnom Penh on my own. I'll always remember their kindness and inspirational tales of worldly adventures, the TO DIE FOR THAI FOOD (I think everyone has to accept that they'll gain 5 pounds in Thailand if they're being taken care of by such hospitable people), and the modern, proud Buddhist culture of Thailand.

I only hope that someday I can repay them with a similar show of hospitality in the future.

And these last moments, soaking up the essence of Cambodia with the open and friendly people I've met here, are reminding me what a unique and rapidly growing place Phnom Penh is. It does make me sad that I won't be enjoying an ice cold Angkor beer and journalistic banter in the yellow lights of Cantina on the Riverside, or having curry with my wonderful neighbors a couple of nights a week.

Ten years from now, Phnom Penh will be a very different place - I'm beyond interested to follow the developments that will take place in this land over the years. The youthful population is ready to jump head-on into a modern future; the economy is preparing to modernize and accept new business prospects. Who knows what Phnom Penh will look like down the road?

Asia, I will miss you: but don't fret - I will be back in some way, at some point in time, hopefully to lend some support in a land that is preparing to accept substantial changes every day.

Avoiding disaster

2010-11-26T20:41:00.000-08:00

Siem Reap's Water Festival

The temple used for the filming of Tomb Raider: Angelina Jolie, where are you?

The many faces of Angkor Thom

The famous Angkor Wat: built as a temple in what was once the capitol of the mighty Angkor Empire

More racing

Alexis and I were confused.

Our Paramount Angkor Express bus from Siem Reap back to Phnom Penh had stopped, suddenly and without reason.

People began streaming through the aisles, picking up their luggage, and heading out the bus doors onto the side of the road, where a few shacks were nestled in the mud, selling crackers, fruit, and beverages.

Bewildered, I saw a western-looking man with white skin inching down the bus steps.

"What's going on?" I asked. "Do you know why we stopped?"

He shrugged his shoulders.

"Not sure, but I don't think this bus is continuing," he said with what sounded like a French accent. He added something about the bus being too large to make it through Water Festival traffic. "Oh, and we're about 20 kilometers from the city, so I think you'll need a tuk tuk," he said.

Alexis and I looked at each other, our eyebrows raised, and stepped off the bus with our bags. We managed to find a tuk tuk driver, bargained our ride back to my apartment in Toul Tompong for $15, and zoomed down the road. The driver zig-zagged, narrowly avoiding Water Festival participants, bribing the cops who were "managing the traffic" so we could skate by, and taking 5 seconds to grab gas at an overcrowded station so we could make it the rest of the way.

We arrived, unscathed, in time for wine and curry at a friend's house.

Little did we know that in just a few hours and a few miles away, on the bridge leading to the newly developed Diamond Island, hundreds would die in what Prime Minister Hun Sen deemed the "biggest tragedy in Cambodia since the Pol Pot regime."

***

Alexis, one of my old friends from UNH and a fellow Journalism major, had just ended a two week South East Asia tour in Siem Reap, where I'd gone to meet her. I'd been saving the epic Angkor Wat temple experience for when she came. I was awed by the ancient temples I'd heard so much about and grateful for Alexis, who re-introduced the notion of rest and relaxation after I'd been bogged down with work in Phnom Penh.

Siem Reap (the city next to the temples of Angkor Wat, to the North of Phnom Penh) is a different town altogether - centered on tourists, full of all kinds of food, and much more low-key Phnom Penh. Relaxing there was not difficult. Even the water festival in Siem Reap took on the feel of a small street carnival back in the United States, with people racing in canoes and ice cream being sold for 75 cents a scoop.

We'd planned on coming back Monday, November 22. I had known Phnom Penh swells to twice the size of its estimated population of 2 million for the country's annual Water Festival. Traditionally, people from all provinces pour into the capitol to watch traditional boat racing, sample the food, and celebrate. (The racing is rowing in canoes, basically - it was like an Asian version of Chief Seattle Days in Siem Reap.)

I was glad to get away for the majority of the festival...and was a bit wary of arriving at its climax, set for Monday and Tuesday night. With good reason.

Monday's tragedy was another blow for a country rapidly developing after most of its educated citizens and resources had been wiped out during the 1975-1979 Khmer Rouge regime.

"God, can't Cambodia catch a break?" Alexis said.

Thursday (Thanksgiving back in the states) was a National Day of Mourning, where citizens were encouraged to wear white, offices closed, and flags flew at half mast.

From what I hear, most of the Cambodians I know made it out all right, and all of my western friends seem to have been somewhere else at the time of the tragedy. Phnom Penh Post staffers arrived around 11 p.m. and stayed at the office all night for a new front page - a special "Stampede" edition.

It's an eerie reminder of the everyday risks made all the more dangerous by mismanagement and corruption among the police and government here.

In honor of the famous American holiday taking place at the same time, I am so thankful for my safe stay in Cambodia so far, and hope for continued safety in the weeks to come. I can't BELIEVE Alexis actually made it out here from the United States, and am thankful for her visit, and all of my family and friends back home. I'm thankful I've met so many incredible people over here in Kampuchea.

I'm thankful for life. Suisday. Thank YOU for reading, and enjoy the rest of your Thanksgiving weekend. (Eat extra turkey for me!)

Taking a cue from Che Guevara: Life as a Journey

2010-11-12T17:25:00.000-08:00

Daily life in the Penh

Life in the Penh: The pepto-bismol pink Playboy bike I threw down $35 bucks for...it's been my main means of transportation in my time here.
(Called "Chi-Kong" in Khmer)

My apartment building from the outside.
The doorkeeper is there 24 hours a day: from a "Suisday" (Good day, informal) in the morning, to coming in and waking him up as he sleeps beneath a mosquito bed at night...saying "Sohm-tuh" (Excuse me/I'm sorry)

People having breakfast at the market

The market on a Saturday morning

Perhaps nobody summarizes the results of travel quite so nicely as Ernesto "Che" Guevara:

"The person who wrote these notes passed away the moment his feet touched Argentine soil again. The person who reorganizes and polishes them, me, is no longer, at least I am not the person I once was. All this wandering around 'Our America with a capital A' has changed me more than I thought." -- The Motorcycle Diaries

I'm in the midst of a few changes here in Phnom Penh. After writing about sex workers and people in desperate need of an advocate, I found myself wanting to directly contribute to their cause, more and more. It was a restlessness that followed me throughout my daily routine at the Post (coming in at 10 a.m., waiting for a story to report or sub-edit, perusing Google News while I ate my lunch, and working on articles from approximately 3 p.m. to 7 or 8 p.m.).

I was going through the motions every day, becoming numb to the endless child rapes, stories of government corruption, and catchy headlines detailing gruesome murders in the police blotter.

What could I do if I was working with these women directly? How much more could I understand this country and its problems?

Last weekend, on my 7 hour bus ride to Ho Chi Minh City, something clicked. It was time for action.

I sent messages to my NGO contacts throughout the city. I thought about the cause I felt most passionate about (educating and advocating for marginalized women). And by Monday morning, I had an interview with a local NGO: the CCW, Cambodian Community of Women Living with HIV/AIDS, about helping to form an advocacy plan in HIV/AIDS outreach.

They wanted me to start this coming Monday.

SO. Thursday was my last day at the Post. I'm looking for a part-time job to hopefully replenish my diminishing volunteer funds (getting by on $.50 cent meals of baguettes, eggs, and bananas when I can), and taking action toward what has sparked my interest here in the Penh.

Life happens fast. I was telling one of my friends here, who I hadn't seen in two weeks, that such a time span was forever "in Phnom Penh time."

People come and go. So many characters here are transitory, looking to help by any means through NGOs, writing the "sexy" but depressing and lurid news at one of the newspapers, or backpacking through the "romantic melancholy" of South East Asia.

But I hope I've managed to grasp an interest of mine that is more than transitory. Voicing the concerns of the disadvantaged, using education to teach and contribute to society on a global scale. It's a concept that can be used in any number of careers at any time in one's life.

Life goes fast. But I hope that, by embracing this unpredictability and taking some calculated risks, I will ride the waves with a sense of calm, confident in the notion that every step along the way will take me to a place I'm meant to be.

J'adore Saigon

2010-11-06T20:56:00.000-07:00

Rice pancake with black iced coffee.

Independence/ Re-unification Palace

Notre Dame Cathedral

Ho Chi Minh - Near Ben Thanh Market

Just after the rain...

Alleyway in Pham Ngu Lao - backpacker central

Vietnam was a good choice.

Spurred by the need to leave the country to re-register for a business visa, my short stay was a well-needed retreat to the comforts of Vietnamese society.

I was immediately struck by how developed and cosmopolitan Saigon is in comparison to Phnom Penh. PP is rough and tough - in your face - proudly on the tacky side at times. Anything goes.

Ho Chi Minh is "in your face" - in Vietnamese terms. Meaning it is still an elegant mix of Asian and French cultures - the speeding motos and occasional ruined French building (damage incurred from the Vietnam war) - are the only things standing in the way of it still being a "Paris of Asia."

Finding a guesthouse, as in all backpacker areas, was ridiculously easy and comforting. A/C, nice concierge, and free breakfast.

God bless you, Asia: nobody does things like you.

Cramped alleyways are full of signs emblazoned with elegant Vietnamese script. Bookstores fill the tree-lined streets. I felt way safer walking around District one than I've felt the entire time I've been in Phnom Penh. It was a nice break from the rustic charm of Cambodia.

The first thing I did upon arrival was grab some Dong (the Vietnamese currency - no dollars allowed here!) and fill up on a great big bowl of Pho. Washed down with - count 'em - TWO Vietnamese coffees. Yes, I couldn't help myself. That would be the first of many coffees during my stay in Vietnam.

I knew I needed to by the signature yellow-star T-shirts from Ben Thanh Market right away - then I hightailed it over to Notre Dame cathedral. When it started torrentially down pouring - the bookstores and coffee shops along the way offered ample shelter.

I was surprised by how comforting it was to come across the familiarity of a church - a beautiful catholic church - and seeing the familiar spiritual symbols on such a grand scale like at the Cathedral Notre Dame. The western influence is substantially stronger here, in terms of cultural permeation, than Phnom Penh. Cambodia is predominantly Buddhist. Seeing the large influence of western religion in the middle of Asia makes you realize just how much the west has intervened in Vietnamese affairs.

And the Vietnamese artists - as I saw firsthand at a Vietnamese art gallery - paint and sculpt in an ethereal way. There is a dreamlike quality to the culture. The women are slim and paler than their South East Asian counterparts in Thailand, Cambodia, and Indonesia.

On Saturday morning, I took part in a two hour feast at a nice Vietnamese restaurant next to "Independence Palace" (The former palace of the South Vietnam president) with Chandra from Jakarta. Traveling alone is great like that, meeting people at serendipitous moments.

She pointed out unique Vietnamese characteristics, things she'd picked up after two years of living in Ho Chi Minh. She was in town to visit a friend and we struck up a conversation - with her guiding me on my menu choices and making sure I ingested as many calories as possible. This included the huge, delicious rice pancakes, fried noodles with seafood, and a bubble tea with tapioca to top it off...thanks Chandra. Well, I was in Vietnam for the first time...

And now, I have a Business Visa - I can legally stay in the country for another month with unlimited extensions.

It all worked out. Like I said: Vietnam was a good choice.

This weekend? Saigon. Aka Ho Chi Minh City

2010-11-03T07:14:00.001-07:00

Yes yes, I'm going to Vietnam! More on that after this weekend. I leave on Friday, and my purpose is to combine some travel with getting my visa sorted out, which has been somewhat of a debacle...

All of this after my camera missed out on another amazing weekend to the coast. (battery issues yet again)

I went with a few friends to Sihanoukville, the largest coastal town in Cambodia. It's definitely more built up than Kep/Kampot (my previous destination), and catered toward backpackers. I don't think I'd seen so many white people in one place the whole time I've been here.

No joke: I felt like I was surrounded by a bunch of UNH athletes when I ate my huge veggie burger and chips (yes, those are thicker, British-style fries) at the Monkey Republic restaurant in the heart of backpacker land.

White people clothing stores, restaurants, and guesthouses galore.

We decided to stay at a smaller, more relaxed beach a 5 minute ride from town. Staying in huts on the side of a hill overlooking the bathtub-warm water is straight out of a dream. I don't know how that can ever get old.

White sand, coconut-mango-banana shakes, and finishing Jon Swain's River In Time (a beautiful account of IndoChina from a journalist during the Vietnam War/Khmer Rouge and after), washing down fresh crab with Anchor beer, falling asleep on lounge chairs...

We rented motobikes Saturday, just as a storm approached the city...racing past the countryside, palm trees, and beach huts, the rain pelting our faces.

I smiled as the water streamed down my face: ahh, to be free in Cambodia.

Afterward, the piping hot, perfectly sweet and syrupy Vietnamese coffee we had while waiting for the bus was the best I've ever had - precisely because it was the first time I'd felt damp and cold since I arrived in the Kingdom. I'd almost entirely forgotten the sensation.

Yes, life is good. And getting better by the day.

Last month: sex workers

2010-11-03T06:43:00.000-07:00

Sunset from the office of the Phnom Penh Post in late October.
Those living in the building closest are to be evicted in the coming months...

Interviewing sex workers in the red light district of Tuol Kork for my feature.

Leaving an HIV/AIDS peer counseling session

On the train tracks in Tuol Kork

About a week and a half ago, the feature I'd been working on for over a month was published. Working on the story was a treat and an incredible experience, not just from a journalistic point of view. These women were so friendly, open, and strong. Each had a story with 100 times the hardship of anyone I've met back home.

These women are survivors. Survivors of human trafficking, of a system in which "men are like gold" and "women are like cloth" - stained for life if their virginity is taken before marriage.

The article barely skims the surface when it comes to the issues of Cambodia's sex trade, police abuse, human trafficking, and transparency (or lack thereof).

Feel free to read if you've got the time:

Sex workers seek solidarity

On a recent afternoon in Tuol Kork district, a slight woman named Dany spoke urgently to the HIV-positive prostitute sitting centimetres away from her in a wooden hut.

The prostitute told Dany how she escaped from police who cursed and chased her the night before. She was lucky; she said her friend, a fellow prostitute, was arrested. Both had taken drugs and were roaming the streets in search of clients.

She said that when you use drugs, you look unhealthy and that affects your ability to get clients. She added that she knows other ways of making money, like washing clothes or selling food. You have to think about your future and find another way to making a living.

Dany is a member of the Cambodian Prostitution Union, an organisation run for sex workers, by sex workers. She used to be a sex worker herself. Like the prostitute, she is HIV-positive, and she was once a drug
addict.

The union has advocated for the rights of sex workers since its formation in 1998 – documenting cases of abuse, educating workers about HIV/AIDS and training workers to become peer counsellors.

The Cambodian Women Development Agency helped organise it after educating prostitutes through its health and HIV/AIDS programme, said CWDA coordinator Keo Sichan. The CWDA has supported the union by providing money, but the union operates on its own in every other respect.

“We are independent,” said Chan Dyna, the leader of the CPU. “We [show them they] have enough skill to be strong on their own.”

Rights workers say the CPU and groups like it provide an important service for a population that has frequently been targeted by law enforcement in recent years.

“Organisations like CPU play an important role in ensuring that the voices of those most affected by crackdowns and sweeps are heard,” said Elaine Pearson, deputy director for the Asia division of Human Rights Watch. “It is vital for the government, donors, human rights groups and anti-trafficking groups to consult with sex worker unions and listen to their views. Unfortunately this doesn’t happen enough in Cambodia.”

In fact, the CPU says, ever since the adoption of the Law on the Suppression of Human Trafficking and Sexual Exploitation in March 2008, supporting and educating sex workers has become increasingly difficult.

The law forbids prostitution and the solicitation of sex; any item that “excites or stimulates sexual desire” (including condoms); and activities viewed as supporting human trafficking. As punishment for all such offences, it calls for fines of between 3,000 and 10,000 riels (US$2.50) and one to six days in prison.

CPU leaders say the law has prevented the union from growing during a period marked by increased scrutiny from law enforcement, a trend documented by a number of groups, including HRW.

Chan Dyna said union leaders approached the Ministry of Interior in 2008 to become a legal NGO in the hope of supporting themselves without CWDA assistance, and that they were denied recognition on the basis of their name.

“[With the] new law in early 2008 – when we went to the Ministry of Interior, they wouldn’t allow us to be a group, with a name like this, the word ‘prostitute,’” Chan Dyna said.

In response, union leaders are considering a name change, and will discuss the prospect at a meeting on Thursday. Chan Dyna said the union would brainstorm “four or five” options and vote on a favourite. Keo Sichan said one possibility was “Solidarity for Women”.

New documents highlighting the name change will then be sent to the Ministry of Interior, Keo Sichan said, so that the CPU can potentially become a registered NGO.

What’s in a name?

By taking this step, CPU leaders say, they will be better equipped to respond to changes in the sex trade that have come out of the 2008 law.

According to a July 2010 HRW report, hundreds of prostitutes were arrested and abused without being officially charged after the 2008 law was passed. But although brothels have been shut down, sex workers have continued to operate in different venues and under the new label “entertainment workers”.

Keo Sichan said there were about 36,000 entertainment workers – including beer and karaoke girls – nationwide, and that about 80 percent engaged in client-sponsored sexual activities. The going rate is $1 for a sex act at the host facility, and $10 to $15 for a night of unlimited sex, Keo Sichan said.

“They look like staff, but after work [they can become sex workers],” Keo Sichan said. “Now there’s a new name – a good name. Sex workers have gone underground.”

Tia Phalla, deputy director of the National AIDS Authority, said the changing nature of sex work had made it more difficult to educate women about HIV/AIDS prevention.

“Sex workers became free – no one can communicate with them,” Tia Phalla said. “It causes problems for us when the girls’ primary job is selling beer. When we enter beer gardens, [the beer girls] will say they’re not sex workers.”

Chan Dyna and Keo Sichan agree, and hope that a name change – and the NGO status they believe it will bring – will increase outreach capabilities.

“With the name change, life will be easier for us,” Keo Sichan said.

Keo Thea, police chief of the municipal anti-human trafficking and juvenile protection bureau in Phnom Penh, said the current name of the CPU would be “likely to encourage more women to become prostitutes”.

Though he could not comment on the prospect of the union obtaining NGO status, he said omitting the word “prostitute” from its name might prompt officials and others to view it more kindly.

“If they want more funds, it’s better that they help the girls to get out of, not to encourage them to engage in [prostitution],” he said. “They should help girls to have other careers.”

For her part, Pung Chhiv Kek, founder and president of local rights group Licadho, said she thought a name change for the CPU was “probably necessary”, so that it could more effectively increase access to information about STDs and put an end to police justifying alleged abuses against its members.

More broadly, though, she said the shelving of the term prostitute in favour of entertainment workers was “a way to bypass the hypocrisy of trying to hide the problem by legal interdiction”.

“Getting rid of prostitution is impossible,” she said, “or at least it would take long-term changes in the society and male culture around the world.”

Veggie bowls?

2010-10-18T21:46:00.000-07:00

So, after a month of eating on the fly, I decided I wasn't getting enough leafy greens over here. You know - that whole "plate/bowl-full of salad" thing that you can find anywhere in the states? Kind of an expensive commodity here.

That, and a growing concern for habitually not knowing what exactly was going into my food re-ignited my interest in cooking. Yay - I've officially put my spacious kitchen to use!

I bought a plate, cutlery, and a Teflon-coated frying pan for $10 at the market and stocked up my fridge.

The product? I've been making myself "lettuce-bowls" every night. They are quite delicious - meat, veggies, and noodles fresh from the market. And it's fun putting the time and energy into making something for myself again, after never having the time in college. (Yes, the dining hall was convenient...although the whole mass-produced thing cut down on quality.)

What is it they say? That half of the fun of cooking is the love you put into it? It's a perfect follow-up to a month of guilt-free bowl after bowl of noodles. Guilt-free, as in I don't have to wear a leotard every day anymore. But there is something to be said for feeling good about what I'm eating again. Do I make any sense?

On a different note:
It's nice to feel as if I'm actually getting into the swing of things here. The thought came to me as I paid my first month's rent yesterday. I was sitting in the office of the apartment, looking up at a poster-sized painting of the owner shaking hands with some Cambodian official, and I wasn't weirded out.

The whole process - paying in cash, walking past barefoot Cambodians lounging and watching the Khmer-language television program, past the oodles of bananas and Khmer tea sets, and even cycling to work and dodging the usual motos cruising inches from my skirt seemed completely normal.

Even the hassling "hey lady" moto-drivers don't irritate me as much anymore. Sometimes it's comical to have them running after you, convinced you'll actually want a moto ride even after you repeatedly say no. Unless you're in a bad mood...then it really is irritating.

Adaptation: it is possible.

Latest article - Angkor Wat Under Threat (Page 3 National News)

Kep!

2010-10-10T18:29:00.000-07:00

Waiting out the rain

Crab and fish grilled with spicy Kampot pepper

Visiting Cambodia: Kingdom of Wonder

Raw coconut. YES.

Our guesthouse huts on Rabbit Island

What is the perfect antidote to 10 hour workdays in a city filled with crazy tuk tuk and moto drivers?

Ahhh I know what might just do the trick...a short backpacking trip to the seaside town of Kep. With a jaunt to Rabbit Island.

We left with a group of Americans, Brits, and and a few Cambodians who are either teaching, working for the Post, or interning for various NGOs.

It was a BLAST. Now I know how to do S.E. Asia right: you save up money, you take a few friends, and you just live life on the fly, taking advantage of the bus transportation systems, cheap hotels, and extremely fresh food.

You gorge yourself on fresh crab grilled with Kampot pepper. You wash that down with rice, crackers, and grilled fish. You sip some Angkor beer in the warm ocean.

You then sleep it off in a hammock, rain or shine. You watch the Cambodian families on vacation with children, tight family units that show how life goes on, no matter how devastating things can get.

You take a boat ride to Rabbit Island and drink coconut water. You scrape the fresh coconut out of the shell. And then you sleep again, the warm sea breeze a comfort to the sweaty humidity of the city.

In a word: Kep is amazing. I wish I could go back. But the workday calls.

Ahhh man. No matter where you are, holiday weekends are the best. Vacations = universal awesomeness.

Olympic Stadium, the daily routine

2010-10-02T21:06:00.000-07:00

Sunrise at Olympic Stadium
(Morning workout hot spot)

The stairs Ed Datti is dying to climb

Week number four: getting that daily routine down.

Up by 5:45 a.m. for some ab exercises and water. Then I turn off the apartment's A.C., step out the door, hop on my bicycle (shout out to Andie Sablosky, who has one just like mine at her Jersey Shore house), and make my way through the already crowded streets to Olympic Stadium.

Olympic Stadium would be heaven for my old coach Ed Datti. The UNH team would loooove the mandatory "stadium runs" here. Stairs, stairs - and more stairs. The compound is amazing. Stone bleachers spring out from the ground and surround the dirt track and soccer field, coliseum-style. People practice aerobics and Tai chi on cement platforms. Wrestling gyms and tennis courts sit just outside the stadium circle.

Then it's back to the market for the daily newspaper and a noodle soup breakfast with Khmer-style iced coffee. People are running all around me, buying produce, pots, pans, cleaning utensils; all part of the morning market bustle.

I make it back to my apartment with my $1 lunch ready to pack. After a quick shower, I bicycle down to the Post.

Just another workday in Cambodia. As for the free time? I will be making it to the beach this holiday weekend (it's the moon festival), then the temples in Siem Reap (with Alexis - holla!), the wilderness of the provinces, perhaps Vietnam, and a final hurrah in Thailand. (Booked my plane tickets last week!)

I'm trying to get outside of the western bubble made so accessible by the Post. I'll be volunteering at a local anti-trafficking/women's shelter, teaching an English class starting week after next. Hopefully that will lead to more.

There are so many ways to help here. It's inspiring and has made me want to be involved in something that reaches out to others no matter where I go.

S-21

2010-09-25T03:09:00.000-07:00

S-21
Pol Pot's prison/torture chamber
Just a few blocks from my apartment

Residents either forced to work in the countryside or face extermination at S-21

Why did I not learn about Cambodia in elementary/junior high/high school?

The Holocaust, World War II, and Vietnam, yes. But Cambodia, where one third of the country died? No.

Visiting Tuol Sleng, also known as S-21 brings a multitude of haunting images that overwhelm the visitor with their sheer inhumanity.

Artwork lines the walls of the former torture chambers: paintings of men folded in half, officers slitting throats with blood dripping down their chests.

Real photos show Cambodian people half naked and reduced to skin and bones. The faces of thousands of victims stare at each visitor individually from bulletin boards surrounding the complex. Their numbers hang from their neck.

The images are just like that of the concentration camps from the holocaust. What happened was exactly the same thing.

Perhaps it was still considered a part of the world’s collective memory; the baby boomer generation teaching us history didn’t feel the need to touch on it. It was too modern.

Maybe that’s my problem. Too many history classes that didn’t go past the Vietnam War.

Then again, no amount of classroom learning can prepare someone for actually entering a former torture chamber and prison.

Whatever it is, I can only describe some of what I’m feeling: complete disgust for the torturers and an overwhelming anger at the cruel capabilities of humanity. Sadness and helplessness at the lives lost. Some sort of compulsion to prevent it from happening again.

Words only cheapen the devastation of S-21.

To think that I’ve felt some discomfort and fear at the current semi-lawless and corrupt state that is Cambodia today? Looking at what they went through then makes today’s society look like paradise.

A visitor comes - a look into the history

2010-09-23T19:02:00.000-07:00

On our way to The Killing Fields
(There basically no traffic laws in Phnom Penh. You go on leaps of faith. Many leaps of faith)

Wat Phnom (Build in 1373, the tallest religious structure in the city)

The Russian Market (Toul Tompong) at night

At Wat Phnom

Elephant outside Wat Phnom

The Killing Fields - skulls are stacked in this building

On the outskirts of Phnom Penh

Thanks to Ian Corey-Boulet's visit this week, I saw another side of Phnom Penh.

We made it to "The Killing Fields" outside of the city. It was my first time on the outskirts and my first glimpse of the sites where Pol Pot's Khmer Rouge cruelly murdered millions (one third) of Cambodians firsthand.

We saw Wat Phnom (gorgeous), the elephant outside, and ate fabulous crepes, italian, and sushi.

Images from the movie ran through my mind when we visited one of the sites of Pol Pot's massacre. Everywhere you step is a grave. Bones protrude through the walkways. Remnants of clothing flutter from their spots in the dirt.

The tree where Khmer Rouge soldiers threw children to crack their skulls still stands. So does the tree that Pol Pot hung a boom box from to blast music, drowning out the screams of women and children.

Two million out of Cambodia's 7 million died from 1975 to 1979. Women and children were killed without mercy to go along with Pol Pot's philosophy - that 'to completely be rid of a tree, you must destroy it from its roots'. By killing the children, the regime believed they were preventing future years of revenge.

And that's a day in Phnom Penh: reflecting on atrocities that killed most of the educated citizens in Cambodia, then celebrating the renewal the country has managed to create 30 years later.

Obviously, just looking at the headlines, it's a process. Entire attitudes toward education were shifted when Pol Pot (educated in France, joined the communist party there) tried to put Cambodia on "year zero" with his agrarian "revolution." Attitudes toward women, violence, and government policy still have a long way to go. (Just look at the U.N.'s yearly reports concerning Cambodia).

HOWEVER, I WAS talking to a journalist from Dubai, and some who've worked in China. Despite Cambodia's human rights transgressions, English-language journalists here are completely free to write what they want.

Dubai has limits for every article. Apparently one cannot call Israel by that name - it is "occupied Palestine." And the articles in Chinese newspapers are basically press releases for the government, from what I've heard.

Ah, so basically both are large scale versions of the cable-access University Place Television, where I interned after my freshman year?

Phnom Penh is unique in this respect. Full of journalistic history (the photos on the wall of the downtown bar 'Cantina' were taken in the 1970s by Al Rockoff, a photographer who is portrayed by John Malkovich in the film version of The Killing Fields. Free of many rules (especially traffic - it's annoying to practice "defensive driving" every second of the day. You never know when someone will be rushing toward you on the wrong side of the traffic median), but full of hope that it will one day build a reliable infrastructure and a prosperous future.

Phnom Penh randoms

2010-09-21T06:02:00.001-07:00

NEW CAMERA! Here are some randoms from Phnom Penh:

Pretty building on the riverfront

The streets outside my lovely new residence

My apartment

My unpractical, large kitchen. (You can't see the stainless steel fridge, either...)
Since I can eat any kind of meal I want for about $1 at the nearby Russian market, it costs more to stock up on food, dishes, silverware, etc.

(Western prices here for western food - P.B. still costs close to $3.00 - and cereal's $5.00 over here!)

From inside the camera shop. See that yellow building outside? That's where I work.

City of Broken Hearts

2010-09-20T02:40:00.001-07:00

One of the many victims of eviction in Phnom Penh (photo not mine)
Housing is one of the bigger issues in the city

I’ve been meaning to update this blog for days now. But, like so many things I see in Cambodia, I’ve been finding myself at a loss for words.

While I see myself updating posts with some of the cheery information I’ve passed on in e-mails, part of me finds these details useless (at least in the context of dealing with Cambodia as a nation, mired in poverty and fighting many contentious issues because of its past).

Take, for example, the massage parlors I pass on my new bicycle on my way home from work.

In the dark, they light up – neon beacons of welcome to touring pedophiles. Or the karaoke bars, where locals and international folk alike can pay an extra $5 for a beer and take a girl home.

There, the girl is often gang raped. Simply a “bad night,” for her, according to a British woman from a local aid NGO (non-government org – there are tons of them here. Living in Phnom Penh as an expat is to live amongst hundreds of NGO workers).

"The girl would say something like, 'I had to sleep with five or six guys and I didn't get paid,'" she said. “The other girls – they’ll be like ‘oh, that happened to me last week. It’s life.'"

It’s just a part of Cambodian Society. If a girl is kidnapped and raped, she will feel like she has no other choice but to enter the sex trade. It’s taken for granted in Cambodia: nobody will marry a girl if she is not a virgin, even if she was raped.

Such is another low in the highs and lows of the Kingdom. Extreme poverty forces many into the abyss of prostitution, eviction, labour trafficking, and corruption (political, economical, and judicial).

But really, Cambodians (Khmer) are a “cheeky” people, as one Londoner put it. They are happy, full of life, talkative and gregarious. That they have experienced such atrocity and continue to deal with such dark aspects of humanity is beyond comprehension.

Phnom Penh is full of westerners, which is comforting to someone new to the country, but sometimes I find myself questioning how appropriate it is. Should I feel like a group of westerners is accessible, and treated so well, in a city that is not my own? I mean, given the NGOs and strong western presence, it feels like a lot of the country is run by westerners.

I wonder.

But most of all, I try to hope. I hope this country finds a way to end some of its heartbreak, for a long, long time.

The Post (written Monday)

2010-09-14T18:48:00.000-07:00

The newsroom is on the top floor of a building in the Phnom Penh Center. It's a light yellow, on the side furthest south of the complex. Elevator goes up to the 7th floor. The airy staircase features views of Phnom Penh from both sides of the building.

Glass door. Phnom Penh Post logo. Inside: a mix of Cambodians (Khmers), Americans, Australians, and? A "Canadian," he would call himself. Different languages, accents, skin colors strewn about the cubicles along with old Post copies.

The National News editor starts the day off nonchalantly, presenting an array of stories ranging from a land mine explosion to the week-long garment workers strike (protesting for the minimum monthly wage to be raised from $61 a month to $93 a month - the infomercials are right: one American dollar can feed someone here for at least a day, if spent wisely). Articles on border disputes, ill prisoners, mistreated workers, human traffickers.

I'm not in New Hampshire anymore.

I could write for hours on the international staff. Many are here on the short term; transitory workers looking to travel and absorb knowledge on the country, learn some Khmer, work in a land with "little geopolitical relevance now" (in the words of the National News editor), but which has had tons of news coverage because of its tragic past.

ps - my camera lost battery power! I'll have to send for my charger from home

Surprising moment of the day

2010-09-12T06:39:00.000-07:00

Walking straight into traffic after my first day as an intern here

...and walking straight into a celebration next to the Royal Palace. Apparently this happens every Saturday and Sunday - colored fountain, lights, crowds...starting at 6 p.m.

So all that stuff they say about other cultures being less work-oriented, more social? There may just be something to it.

Running

2010-09-11T03:33:00.000-07:00

...past the monks, their orange robes fluttering in the breeze...dodging tuk tuk drivers and moto bikes, remembering their are little to no traffic laws in this country...veering left when I see people practicing Tai Chi near the National Monument, nodding and smiling to the westerners, Japanese, Koreans, and Cambodians jogging with iPods...

Khmer Restaurants before opening time

Even at 7 a.m., the sun is high in the sky and the temperature's a humid 80 degrees. It's about halfway through my jog when I pinch myself and wonder how I got to Cambodia at all.

This time last year, I'd be running with my girls, the University of New Hampshire gymnasts, on the campus roads of Durham, N.H. We'd make our way to the dreaded hill (shout out to you, Ed Datti!), sprinting up and down, up and down, interval training for the season.

I feel a pang of longing for the structure and schedule of college, the network of teammates, and daily rhythm that always included a long dinner at the dining hall. (shout out to those UNH gymnasties!!)

Then a flock of birds takes off in front of me, and I'm back in the present. Surrounded by ruined French Buildings, Wat Ounalom, and dozens of restaurants.

My first day of work is today, at the Phnom Penh Center for the Phnom Penh Post. What will happen? I have no idea. At some point we all have to accept that part of life, right? That one sure thing, something you know will always come at you, even when you least expect it: change. The unknown.

Right now? Gotta embrace it. With full force. Running, closer and closer with each stride.

(below: on my tuk tuk ride for my first day of work - the big yellow building is the home of The Phnom Penh Post)

Breakfast, the Royal Palace, and the Riverfront

2010-09-10T19:33:00.001-07:00

Sidestreet near the Royal Palace
(Those are tuk tuk drivers on the street)

View of a street from the riverfront

The Royal Palace

The Silver Pagoda.
Within lies an emerald and gold buddha. Inside, the place is filled with an overwhelming sense of calm. You must take off your shoes to step inside. People sit on the floor and meditate in front of the buddha, hands upturned, eyes closed.

The Phnom Penh riverfront

I awoke at 6:00 a.m. in my stiff guesthouse bed Friday morning, nervous with sweat. I had visions of my somewhat sketchy arrival at my guesthouse the night before.

I'd knocked on the door while the tuk tuk driver waited outside. I peered through the glass. "Uh oh - should I have stayed where the other people are staying?" I asked the driver.

Hours earlier, I'd met a Minnesota woman on the plane ride to Phnom Penh. She had sweetly guided me through customs, introduced me to her former Navy SEAL American son, and invited me onto their tuk tuk ride. The two made sure the driver took me safely to my guesthouse, instructing him as to where I was staying after they were dropped off. Their place, $30/night, looked much more inviting than mine. The hotel was called the Luxe for crying out loud.

The driver assured me that many people have stayed here, in this guesthouse off of an alleyway, so I was a little reassured. Then I saw one of the workers come to the door. Signed my room registration, was shown to my room by an kind older woman (who had known doubt seen the anxiety written on my face), and locked myself in.

Morning came. I was nervous to step outside.

Tentatively, I took another shower, threw on a navy v-neck and capris, and ventured onto the street for breakfast.

"Lady, tuk tuk drive?" The tuk tuk drivers parked outside constantly ask people if they want a ride - and since I'm staying the Riverfront/Expat/Tourist district, the hounding happens even more often. "No thanks," I said, both annoyed and afraid that they would not take kindly to rejection. I kept walking.

I sat myself down to a deliciously thick coffee and comforting western omelet with white wonder bread toast at a corner cafe. The bill was about $4.00, a luxury I allowed myself on this first day. And slowly, hour by hour, things seemed to become less nerve-wracking.

I found a cell phone at the market. Took a tuk tuk drive to visit my news editor (fellow Curtis High School alumnus) Robbie for lunch (at an expensive Japanese restaurant, might I add - expensive, meaning the bill totaled $20.00 for the two of us). Toured the Royal Palace (built for Cambodian royal family in 1866) and Silver Pagoda. Drank with the expats at the Riverfront restaurant Cantina. Had a great big bowl of Pho for dinner. Found an apartment. Met so many people who call this city, a city that is a marriage between living an excess and poverty, great food and a multitude of different people, home.

"Once you come to Phnom Penh, you end up staying," said a woman I met at Cantina, who worked in advertising.

"Why?" I asked.

"It's just - the people, the places...you can do anything in Phnom Penh, start jobs you'd never dreamed of," she said.

She acknowledged the odd mix of sadness but sense of opportunity in the area. She pointed to Hurley, the owner of Cantina, who claims he didn't know anything about Mexican food and now owns one of the most popular expat hangouts in the place. He's actually a legend, according to the Lonely Planet guidebook for Cambodia.

The fact that it only took me one day to meet him must be a testament to his legendary status. Within two seconds of meeting him (a friend of Pat, the American who helped shuttle me to my guesthouse), he had me pull up a chair and I was just another member of the group, talking and sipping a Heineken like I was meant to be here.

I guess it really is a small world, after all.

Waking up to Korea

2010-09-08T20:58:00.000-07:00

The spicy beef noodle soup I cried my way through

You know that feeling of waking up in an unfamiliar place? Reaching for that familiar nightstand, to find it's not there?

Today I woke up to a giant plasma T.V. with Korean politicians speaking into mikes. Korean subtext balanced across the lower half of the screen. I blinked a few times and sat up.

I had slept, curled across two couches in the Seoul Incheon Airport's "Rest and Relaxation" lounge. A three hour nap after arriving at 4:25 a.m. in Korea...it was just enough to give me the energy to walk, bleary eyed, to the bathroom, careful not to trip over the people nearby who had hooked up their laptops.

Ahh, to be in Korea. All the girls are tall and thin. Regal flight attendants with light blue blouses and khaki skirts, scarves tied around their necks walk briskly through the terminal. I was hoping they weren't talking about me, fresh from my flight when I bought my iced coffee at Dunkin Donuts this morning.

So far, I've learned "Thank you" in Korean - the flight attendants were kind enough to teach me as they served an endless supply of water, orange juice, and hot towels. "Kama-sa Ha-ni-na."

Korean Airlines has it figured out! Seriously. I watched three movies in the 13 hours on board (Letters to Juliet, Ironman II, and the Prince of Persia). It was just like JetBlue but better - more foot room and two whole meals. Yes, and my seaweed soup, rice, beef, and veggie dish, melon, and gingered pickle dinner came complete with a little glass of red wine. Kudos to you, Korean Air.

Also, remarkably, keeping in mind that I've been in this airport since 4:25 a.m. (it's 1:30 p.m. here), the time has flown. The airport is on an island outside of the city, making any travel to and from kind of a hassle. So I've made trips to the electronic store within the airport to buy an adapter, hooked up this good old laptop, and checked out the Korean cultural exhibits in the building.

I feel a little bit like Tom Hanks in "Terminal". Only the American-in-Korea version.

Made a rookie mistake with the lunch. I ordered the beef noodle soup. The lady at the counter warned me, eyebrows raised: "It very spicy, you know." I nodded my greasy American head and smiled. "I'll go for it," I said.

Good God. I managed to hold back the tears the entire time I ate the bowl. "You're gonna like this, and you're gonna eat it, and you're gonna tell that counter lady it was great," I said to myself. Well, I did just that, but I doubt my breath will be a comfort to the passenger beside me on my flight to Phnom Penh. Hopefully dinner will calm my taste buds down.

A five hour flight, customs, and taxi ride left to go. I MAY journey to the shower area and pay for a shower, too. I know if any of you guys were sitting next to me at the moment you'd be encouraging me enthusiastically. I'll give it a shot, just for you. And to kill the last of my hours here before Cambodia. Later!

Korea...(What I'm Looking forward to)

2010-09-05T11:51:00.000-07:00

Wow, I'm glad my layover is here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Incheon_International_Airport

-According to wikipedia, "Since 2005, it has been consecutively rated as the best airport in the world by the Airports Council International^[2]^[3] and received the full 5-star ranking by Skytrax, a recognition shared only by Hong Kong International Airport and Singapore Changi Airport.^[4]"

Fantastic. I'm also hoping to meet up with two friends teaching English in the area - crossing my fingers!

If not, I'll have 14 hours to explore "a golf course, spa, private sleeping rooms, a casino, and indoor gardens and a Museum of Korean Culture" within the airport.

Not too long to wait!

One Week

2010-08-31T06:53:00.001-07:00

What do I pack? My purple one-shouldered dress (could be useful for a party in Asia), my black windbreaker, running shoes, tank tops, shorts, lightweight professional gear?

I've planned on one suitcase to check, one carry on suitcase, and my hiking backpack (thank you, Bridge and Parrish families!)

Of course, can't forget the passport and anti-malarial pills.
Eh, I've still got a week.

I've spend a few of my last days here exploring Seattle's Capitol Hill neighborhood with one of my friends, Kelli. She just moved into a studio apartment and loves the diverse, unpretentious air of the neighborhood.
An Urban Outfitters is located dangerously close to her place. Took advantage of Happy Hour and made it to an awful Mexican restaurant. We sat down to plates speckled with something red, asked for new ones, waited for our appetizers and drinks. One sip of the half price "Mexitini" prompted grimaces from us both. We knew then that we wouldn't be staying long.But hey, the total bill came out to a $9.00 total. We both decided it was worth our stopping by, after all.

I was impressed with Capitol Hill. Molly Moon's is a great ice cream place, full of eye-catching flavors such as "cucumber sorbet", "sweet peach basil", "salted caramel", and "honey lavender". Where were the flavors featuring peanut butter or cookie dough? I told Kelli I was branching out of my comfort zone, settling on a half-and-half cup of maple walnut and salted caramel. We waited in a line that reached beyond the entrance, but made it to the front quickly. I had definitely needed the time to think about my order.

Molly Moon's in Capitol Hill

...

Today is the first day of school for my old school district - buses sit in long lines in the school parking lot while kids sporting backpacks trudge onto campus a block from my house. The weather is awful; rain oozing out of the sky, gray clouds looming above our view of the sound and Fox Island.

The air has the unmistakable odor of fall: decaying leaves, football games, the pumpkin patch...it feels like late September instead of the last day of August. Which means it's clearly time for me to go and start a new adventure.

Looking at pictures of everyone's first weekend back at the University of New Hampshire does that, too. I really shouldn't check my facebook as often as I do. Just doing what I can, little by little, to wrap up the last of my articles and get in some short guarding shifts, make the most of the time I've got left.

The future stands before me: uncertain, promising, the unknown. One week.

You guys wish you were here yesterday for some PNW traditions

2010-08-22T08:31:00.000-07:00

I'd never been to Suquamish before (small town nestled between Bainbridge Island and Poulsbo, near the Clearwater Casino). And I gotta say - I was quite taken with its view of the Puget Sound and Seattle. I covered the 100th anniversary of Chief Seattle Days, partook in two ceremonies, and watched canoes race on the calm water. It was a surprisingly sunny day. At that particular moment, I was happy to be a born and bred northwesterner, tried and true.

Chief Seattle Days: Suquamish Tribe Looks Inward, Reaches Outward

Saturday, August 21, 2010

By Keeley Smith

For the Kitsap Sun

SUQUAMISH

Suquamish Tribal elder Ted George, wrapped in a traditional Salish blanket and calm optimism, gazed at the crowd gathered Saturday morning at Chief Seattle’s grave.

“Chief Seattle represents a unique culture that will forever have status,” George said. “With money and legal matters, it has not been easy to try to reclaim. But we are succeeding.”

This weekend’s 100th anniversary of Chief Seattle Days celebrated the tribe’s economic growth — as well as improved community relations with the annual graveside service, tribal royalty pageant, canoe races, parade and salmon bake.

The festival showcased new buildings and artwork throughout the downtown, including the new dock and cedar longhouse, which is called the House of Awakened Culture.

Street vendors hawked tribal necklaces and blankets from their white tents downtown. Canoes raced just beyond. Tribal members stacked salmon on grills.

A few steps uphill, in Angeline Park, the Suquamish Garden club and tribe unveiled three new cedar carvings of Chief Seattle’s daughter, Princess Angeline. The Suquamish Garden Club teamed up with the tribe to raise money for the $14,000 statue, crafted by Master Carver George David of the Nuu-Cha-Nulth tribe on Vancouver Island.

Money from the tribe, PME, Kitsap Community Foundation, and private and business donors made the artwork possible.

The three panels, each seven feet tall, consist of three different scenes of Angeline as a member of the tribe, rather than a political figure. One panel includes Angeline as a girl on Suquamish Beach, one is of her as a mother with a child, and the last depicts her in a canoe leaving Mother Earth.

“You never think of Angeline as part of the tribe,” State Representative Sherry Appleton said. “These three panels are a terrific way for people to know who she was.”

David said he hoped that people would think of Angeline the person when they saw the statue, which had originally been envisioned as a totem pole. He added that the statue reinforces the importance of elders in tribal culture.

“It creates a lot of pride, thoughts about older people,” David said.

Forest Beattie, who hadn’t been to the event in 25 years, said that he was amazed at the differences since he last attended.

“The dock wasn’t built up, there was one pub, and there was dancing in the middle,” he said, pointing to the road next to the dozens of vendor tents.

Chief Seattle Days regulars arrived for Friday’s “Coastal Jam” — an annual gathering of tribes from across the northwest — the royalty tribal pageant, canoe races, powwow and parade.

“We always look forward to coming,” Howard Morris said, who has participated for the past 28 years. Morris, a native of Saanich, British Columbia, canoes with his family every year for the second-to-last race of canoe season, a summer tradition among tribes throughout the northwest.

“It felt good to see partners in culture, honoring tradition,” Suquamish Chairman Leonard Forsman said.

King County Commissioner Steve Bauer said that he was pleased with the progress the community and tribe has made since the creation of Chief Seattle Days 100 years ago. The event began as a cooperation between federal authorities, Seattle leaders, and local tribal and community members.

It was a rare time when the tribe, which was expected to assimilate into white culture on all other occasions, could celebrate its heritage.

In recent years, Port Madison Enterprises opened Clearwater Casino. It gives tribal members more jobs and a better quality of life, along with increased sovereignty.

“The Suquamish tribe really invests in its people and education, in the capacity that tribal leaders can provide professional leadership — what the tribe needs,” King County Commissioner Steve Bauer said.

George reiterated the value of education and planning in retaining a culture equally rich in history and resources.

“Money doesn’t always represent the answer,” he said, “but it is the way to the answer.”

Less than THREE WEEKS???

2010-08-21T18:24:00.001-07:00

Are you kidding me? I can't really believe it now either.

My Khmer-English dictionary came in the mail this past Wednesday. I can't decide if I'm eagerly challenged or scared out of my mind. Well, I'm going anyway, so I'll say eagerly awaiting the challenge.

However, looking at the curlicues of Khmer characters brings me back to the relative obscurity of the language. For example: there aren't any reassuring harsh edges, as in Japanese, Korean, or Chinese script. Hmm...interesting. Thank the lord a translator will be sent out with me for stories.

Khmer Consonants

I still need to pack. Again, I'm grateful that the Lonely Planet guidebook passages I absolutely need to read are finally jumping out at me. I was having a hard time finding my way through before - but now my knowledge of the great restaurants (including Thai, Vietnamese, Khmer, French, and many Mediterranean-themed places), the prevalence of HIV, and layout of Phnom Penh is somewhat expanded.

That's it for the brief update - the countdown is dwindling!

Back to Colorado, the Rockies, and Family

2010-08-06T10:24:00.001-07:00

Elk running wild at the Smith Ranch
(homesteaded in the 1800s by my late great-great-grandpa Henry Smyth, Irish immigrant)

At the Smith Ranch entrance with my mom
Mt. Elbert (14,443 feet), the 2nd tallest peak in the contiguous United States, sits directly behind the tin-roofed barn on the left. Mt. Massive (14,421 feet) sits to our right.

A lot can happen in four years.

A lot can happen to the individual - changes attributed to age, new experiences, hopefully contributing to an emerging maturity. A lot can happen to a particular place - a change in dynamics, new buildings, new trails.

A lot - including the value of family - can stay the same.

I made a trip back to Colorado this weekend for the first time since my cousin's wedding in the summer of 2006. I was 18, on a road trip with my mom, about to embark on my New Hampshire collegiate adventure. We were all a little different then, to say the least.

This time around, I made it up to the family ranch with the help of my parents, who were in town for my dad's high school reunion. Going back this time (it was the longest break in what had been a childhood of yearly summer Colorado ranch visits) was fresh and raw. The mountains seemed bigger, looming like cardboard cutouts in the cold mountain air.

The mining town of Leadville seemed older - more authentic, historical, unique. The altitude change was greater (Leadville is the highest town in the contiguous United States at 10, 200 feet above sea level). Getting oxygen to my legs was difficult on the morning jogs at the base of Mt. Elbert.

And the family ranch still held that same promise of adventure as when I was a kid, making forts and playing hide and seek in the Arkansas river willows with my cousins.

The ranch is such a huge part of who I am. I got to see 9 of my dad's 10 siblings and the dozens of cousins who reside in the state of CO in my four days. It's amazing rediscovering a pocket of yourself after a time away.

A. Erin serves up some dessert

My cousins picked me up from the airport Friday night, taking me to an enormous brunch in Denver with my Aunt Erin the next day. Toasted and sliced B.L.T. sandwiches, smoothies, mimosas, fresh fruit, eggs, and mini cheesecakes with cantaloupe and ice cream. The dessert, my aunt noted, was an homage to my late great-grandmother Ruth Overmeyer, who liked to top cantaloupe with ice cream at the end of a summer meal.

My cousin Stephanie drove me up the pass to meet my parents, grandparents, and her parents in Leadville. We went up another mile in elevation from Denver, the "Mile High City". I blunted the drive with loud music from my iPod, singing for as long as my breath would hold out. I offered Stephanie some gum and we chewed as we made the climb in altitude, popping our ears and staying awake.

Scrabble games at the Smith Ranch/Homestead, watching Elk roam the fields, trips to the old Catholic church in town, cookies downtown, and watching movies with my cousins, uncles, and grandparents rounded out the Leadville trip.

On the day we left, I tried my first soft-boiled egg at my granparents' urging. I soaked up the runny yolk with whole wheat toast and washed the breakfast down with hot black coffee. Hmm...I may follow Thomas Gounley's lead and start preferring my coffee plain and black.

A jaunt down to Ft. Collins and CSU gave me a new perspective on my dad's college years. We stayed in my Aunt's gorgeous house in the Rocky foothill town of Lyons, Colorado (her kitchen remodel was featured in Better Homes and Gardens - ooh la la!), and ran the trails around her home.

In Boulder on the last day, I actually envisioned a possible future in the Centennial state. I pondered living in the town over a meal of tapas at the Mediterranean Restaurant downtown and visit to the University of Colorado. Boulder has a way of mixing cosmopolitan with hippy libertarian values; it's urban and upscale while being fit and outdoor-oriented. Lots of outdoor mags based there.

Needless to say, last weekend opened my mind, renewed the importance of family, and gave me a new perspective on life and my future. Colorado - you are truly one-of-a-kind.

The Killing Fields

2010-07-19T22:29:00.000-07:00

At my last Athletic Advisory meeting for UNH (as a student-athlete rep), the administrators asked what my fellow representative and I would be doing post-college. When I mentioned Cambodia, Dr. Steve Hardy stressed that I MUST watch The Killing Fields before I made the journey. He mentioned something about the plot containing a journalist, genocide, and Cambodia. It sounded pretty necessary.

So I looked all over in shops around my hometown, and finally found a copy at the Tacoma Mall DVD and music store.

The guy at the counter looked up at me when I bought the film.

"Hey - this is a good movie," he said beneath a blond buzz cut. His "Employee of the Month" ID chain swung low from his his neck as he scanned the DVD bar code. "We watched it in my Civics class last year."

(Well, thanks for reminding me that high school Civics was over four years ago, kid. Time flies.)

I smiled and mentioned I was planning a trip to Cambodia myself, picked up the DVD (after taking a quick glimpse of the Nordstrom Anniversary Sale), and hightailed it home to study up. The performances were spectacular - the film did win three Oscars, including one for Best Supporting Actor for Dr. Haing S. Ngor's portrayal of labor camp survivor Dith Pran.

The film (based on a true story) follows New York Times journalist Sydney Schanberg's journey and coverage of Cambodia, beginning in 1973. It chronicles his friendship with his Cambodian translator Dith Pran throughout the Vietnam War and Khmer Rouge's brutal takeover, which resulted in the deaths of millions of Cambodians. Pran saves Schanberg multiple times while he is trapped inside the country. And later, while Schanberg is evacuated back to NYC and wins the Pulitzer, Pran struggles to survive in the horrific environment of a Khmer Rouge labor camp.

What's perhaps most remarkable is the film was Oscar winner Ngor's first. He drew on his own experiences as a Khmer Rouge labor camp survivor. The film, shot in neighboring Thailand, provides a strong visual and emotional base in understanding the atrocities that occurred in Cambodia's recent history.

My head is spinning

2010-07-12T20:51:00.000-07:00

And I've only just begun the vaccination process. Good lord - insurance, needles, oral vaccines, side effects including nausea, light headedness, fainting, diarrhea, abdominal pain....

I signed up for this?

You betcha.

Everything the travel vaccination nurse said to me blurs together in my memory:

"Don't sit in any rivers (there's that one parasite that penetrates your skin and kills you), make sure housing has mosquito nets, screens on all doors at all times, malarial pills are for 2 days prior, one a day during your trip to a malarial area, and 7 days afterward, are you sure you're covered for Japanese Encephalitis? Because shots go for $396 each and there are a couple of them, and you need it because it's fatal for 25 percent of the people who contract the disease...."

Whew. I honestly had no idea. What I thought would be a quick appt. turned into a 3 hour ordeal, calling the insurance company and waiting to make sure I had coverage. Thank god for Boeing. Reliable, secure, and great benefits. I definitely see the positives of being an engineer for a large company. There are some immediate bonuses to my dad's job.

Well, at least my head's only spinning metaphorically. I haven't experienced any side affects yet. I kept reminding myself of the experience afterward, and that of course I'd be safe and cautious and all that. Right? I have to.

I'm still all for the trip. What's life without a little risk? Again, at least that's what I keep telling my naive, untraveled, Irish and Norwegian, Continental-U.S. born and bred self. Haha. Here's to growing up one part at a time (next step - having MY OWN benefits to pay for travel...heh. Gettin on that sometime).

Freelancing it

2010-07-11T15:42:00.000-07:00

Enjoying a bit of the Kitsap action again with my latest articles, published last Monday and this past Saturday:

Business Spotlight: Kid Play Centers a Growth Industry

North Kitsap Budget Proposal Keeps Librarian, Counselor Positions Intact

Back at it...and feeling fine

2010-06-29T20:40:00.000-07:00

Made the drive back to the Kitsap Sun yesterday to say hi - and interview people in Port Orchard as a freelancer. Ah, how I missed the feel of being involved with a newspaper! The pen, the paper, the people, the newly painted walls in the Kitsap Sun's office...all felt right in the world again after ending my stint at UNH's student-run publication, The New Hampshire.

Cambodia still seems a long way off. Until then, gotta get the writer in me warmed up. And remember how to read my hasty writer's scrawl. Will post articles once they are up.

In the meantime, enjoy another lovely view of a Northwest sunset. Not much else happening here.

Ay Carumba

2010-06-21T08:59:00.000-07:00

It sure doesn't feel like summer

Weather: Cool spring helps swell strawberries

Father's Day in typical PNW style

2010-06-20T22:02:00.000-07:00

Yep, it was in the fifties and gloomy all day - not a bright omen for a holiday celebrating the love of and love for fathers everywhere. Just another reminder that sunny days cannot be counted on here, despite the holiday spirit and June calendar date.

However, we DID have one swimmer today during my shift at the local golf club pool. Another testament to northwest spirit: swimming in the rain with steam coming from the 85-degree heated pool. We know how to deal.

It is now apparent that my four years of college groomed me for a world that did not contain as much rain, cloud cover, and year-round greenery. In New Hampshire, even the subzero degree temperatures and bare branches were made bearable with friendly rays of sun. The light would shimmer on the snow-coated lawns, reminding us that someday the air would be warm.

This constant rain is no longer the norm. How will I adapt? Will we see the sun at all this summer?

Reacquainting myself with my roots

2010-06-13T20:55:00.000-07:00

Tonight's sunset over the Puget Sound

Crystal blue water, mountains looming on the horizon, and a pool full of people today in the Fircrest Golf Club pool. I actually got sunburned lifeguarding today - after 10 days in Cabo.

On a nice day, the Pacific Northwest can really beat them all. For all our complaints about the rain, a sunny day is as astounding as it is appreciated.

After graduation and a nice vacation in the sun (10 days relaxing poolside or by the beach in Cabo San Lucas), coming home is like flipping a switch: new life and new goals. And what a better place to brainstorm than with the people who've been around me since day 1?

Including support for buying my plane ticket to Cambodia. I'm getting ready for a September departure. The countdown begins.

Walks in the North End, savoring views of old Tacoma and Point Defiance, catching up on my reading during my lifeguard breaks and visiting old coaches and teammates, eating oatmeal every morning and gazing out at the Olympic mountains framing the Puget Sound has rounded out my return nicely.

A few short term goals for the summer:

1) Climb more mountains (let's get more advanced than Mt. Elinore - I got nothing else athletic to focus on, right?)

2) Enter a few running races

3) Two words: YMCA classes. Rock climbing, spin, and yoga. Gotta keep that core engaged (no more gymnastics to do the work for me)

4) Study for and conquer the GREs, continue all prep for future internship/jobs/grad school apps

5) Freelance a couple of stories - I will be contacting you guys at the Kitsap Sun!

6) Maintain that tan from Cabo so that I am prepared for the weather in Cambodia.

And I'm sure there will be many more.

Off to read the second book in Steig Larson's Millenium series. Talk about my ideal night. Good night, and good luck.

Learning to relax

2010-06-04T17:05:00.000-07:00

Tacos on the way to Santa Maria. $3 a piece - bottomless trips to the fresh taco bar included.

Santa Maria - body surfer paradise.

Wowed by the Marina. It's like a microcosm of Vegas - on the Mexican waterfront. Where was the cast of The Hills?

Downtown Cabo.

Wake up. Sunscreen. Coffee with hazelnut creamer on the rooftop overlooking greater Cabo. Breakfast. Short run. Swimsuit, more sunscreen, tacos, beach. Swim. Back to the house, jump in pool to rinse off, tan, shower, dinner, movie, bed.

Such is life here. I'm not used to such leisure - and being trained is such a burden darling, let me tell you.

What's even funnier is the fact that Cabo has one of the largest American and Canadian populations in the country - almost everyone (in every store, every beach) speaks English. I try to sprinkle in some Spanish when I can, but it's so very tempting to be lazy.

I've had time to race through Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and peruse my Cambodia tour book. Time to reflect on my past and plan on my goals for the future. And make a mental note to grab the last two books of the Dragon Tattoo series.

***book review side note: The write-ups are spot on - amazing heart racing adventure. Parts were so creepy I was afraid to go to bed here - in Mexico, a far cry from the book's Sweden setting. But enough of my babble (I must add that the characters are skillfully developed and the plot well-paced. Rare that I've read a thriller with such an artful touch).

Food - authentic mexican food, that is - is a plus. We stopped by the taco stand a couple of days this week on our way to Santa Maria (gorgeous beach, light blue water crashing into the shore). Que fresco!!! The tacos are only $3 each with limitless taco bar included - shown above are the shrimp tacos - fresh handmade flour tortillas, shrimp, and six to seven different types of salsa. Every time we finished, Jenny, Deb and I were shaking with the aftershock of spice.

Good thing the taco bar had cucumbers - a natural, reliable neutralizer for the palate.

Cabo really is a Mexican version of Vegas catered to tourists. The downtown is full of attractive adobe storefronts, a mix of new and old construction. The mall, recently added onto, is a beautiful mix of modern and traditional bars, artificial waterfalls, and luxury shops. Everything is anchored by the marina, home to a beautiful mix of yachts.

Playtime for the rich and famous. I only wish I ran into the cast from The Hills. Who knows - maybe this weekend?

Trying to remember my high school Spanish...

2010-06-01T19:28:00.000-07:00

The view from our rooftop: the marina of Cabo San Lucas

First, I experimented with my rusty language skills on the driver who delivered us to the Cabo house. Que hora es? I asked, as we zoomed past dusty hills speckled with cacti.

Then I couldn't stop saying lo siento in Wal-Mart - apologizing for my gringa self getting in the way.

Today it was the lifeguard who gave my friend's aunt advice when she got stung by a jellyfish. Funny - he guessed that we were from Washington just by looking at us.

"HOW did you know that?" I asked.

He smiled sheepishly and mentioned something about the color of our bodies. It was then that I realized we were some of the whitest people on the beach. Points for Washington. Breeding ground for vampires (Shout out to Forks and the Twilight series - woop woop!).

After a day here, I can say that my biggest accomplishment has been narrowly avoiding a jellyfish sting at Chileno Bay. We were productive yesterday making grocery shopping trips to the Mexican Wal-Mart and Costco (which is disappointingly or conveniently American - whichever way you look at it) and stocking up for the 10 days we plan on staying.

This morning's trip to Chileno Bay started with a walk down the boardwalk that lead us down from the gravel parking lot to the hot sand littered with palm trees. We dove in right away. "Ah!!" I heard after splashing around. Deb peeled a jellyfish from her hand and threw it into the water. We ran up, debated various treatment, and talked to the lifeguards. Who knew Windex is a fitting treatment for a jellyfish sting? We all thought someone was going to have to pee to balance out the pH of her skin. Thank heaven.

We lasted a few more hours at the beach, then turned to the pool in the housing complex we're staying at. Better safe than sorry - at least for today. White adobe houses, modern architecture, and a pool with a fountain. Rooftop views of the marina and downtown Cabo San Lucas. Scheduled to go out on the town tonight. Ahh...livin la vida buena. Hasta Luego!

A cap, a gown, a camera, and a plane

2010-05-28T15:34:00.001-07:00

Lingering by Paul Revere's statue before we left, trying to remember Longfellow's famous words:

"Listen my children and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five;
Hardly a man is now alive
Who remembers that famous day and year."

A final handstand for Newburyport and memories of gymnastics in New England.

Parking in Boston's North End for some lunch and a final farewell.

With the fam. The wildcat statue behind us was built my freshman year by an artist from Whidbey Island, Wash.

The grads, milling around Memorial Field

Within 48 hours I threw on a cap and gown, took a million pictures, cruised the N.H. and Mass. coastline, ate my way through the North End, and boarded a plane that dropped me off at Seattle-Tacoma International Airport - with my family (including the grandparents) along for the ride.

That was last weekend. I lost track of how many times I cried. Tears of joy, of sadness, of leaving, of anxiety about the future, of love for my school and friends, family, the gorgeous campus, and the end of an era.

The sun beamed on the graduates and Astro Turf Saturday, May 22 on Memorial Field. It was 75 degrees and sunny. I was happy my Kate Spades kept my tears out of sight. We crammed onto white chairs the Alumni Association set out for us and fanned ourselves in the heat, taking the occasional picture. I'm always amazed at the energy these occasions have - I mean, tingling with disbelief and excitement. And some sadness. College is over. And it was amazing.

The speaker, Bert Jacobs, Co-founder of Life is Good gave handy hints of optimism - managing to sprinkle mention of a keg party and BBQing with a Boston Red Sox player. He owned the stage with a backwards baseball cap and tassel in lieu of a the traditional flat-brimmed cap typical of an honorary degree recipient. He threw Frisbees and beach balls into the sea of cheering students, the same students who threw their caps in the air and struggled in the heat and crowds to find family and friends at the end of the ceremony.

I returned to an empty apartment - my family had managed to pack for me, when I was almost too emotional to do so myself before the ceremony. Everything but my brand new gray shirt with the navy letters "UNH Alumni" was folded neatly into the suitcases or sent off in boxes before the Post Office had closed at noon. Thanks Mom, Dad, Gannon and Quinn.

One last handstand contest at dinner in Newburyport that night. My hands supporting my body on freshly cut grass. Beating my dad again, thankful my arms still had some strength leftover from gymnastics. Arms that hadn't been used in a month. Wine overlooking the Merrimack River. Lobster with butter. Laughing, remembering the beginning of my New England adventure.

We made sure to take a couple of hours to enjoy Boston's North End on Sunday. Lunch at the Florentine Cafe, Cannoli at Mike's Pastry, a couple of blocks on the cobblestone Freedom Trail. Contests to see who could find the oldest grave (I believe Quinlan Smith did - and it was 1654). I lingered by Paul Revere's statue near North Church, trying to absorb every last piece of history.

And with the purchase of a "Panini Lady" sandwich for the ride home - mozzarella, basil, and tomato on a French Baguette, a quick trip through security, and some Diet Coke on the plane - I was touching down on some wet Pacific Northwest pavement.

It was over.

Now I'm here, overlooking a stormy Puget Sound, shaking my head and wondering: were those four years a dream?

Final tours

2010-05-14T06:51:00.001-07:00

Livin it up at Red Hook - the Portsmouth location is one of two in the country. Where is the other, you ask? Why, none other than Woodinville, Washington. Spooky.

The final TNH dinner, climax, celebration of another year in print? An all-expenses paid trip to Red Hook Brewery, my third in my years here at UNH. And the first time I could sample the beers on the tour (since I'm almost 22 now, eek!).

The guy leading the tour resembled a pirate, drinking his Dasani water bottle full of a suspicious light brown liquid, scraggly gray hair pulled back into a ponytail, with some leftover to make a rustic beard. The tour was fine, the same as last year: he listed the two locations (the original in Seattle, recently located to Woodinville, WA, and the one here in Portsmouth, NH), showed the metal kegs and explained the brewing process. I guess I only fixated on the word "hops," since it never ceases to amuse me. But of course, the best part was the end.

We grouped together at the table and he poured us pitchers of five of the samples, including ESB, Amber Ale, and some sort of Guiness-like version. Flirting with the ladies after a few samples was not out of the question, and caught us a little off guard. "No beer is wasted!" He said, eyeing our Red Hook sample glasses (and convenient souvenir). We were much slower than the other side of the counter, where the guys were scrambling for more. My cheeks ended up turning the color of my pink shirt.

Dinner included appetizers - delicious chili-topped nachos, buffalo wings, quesadillas, and the standard american artichoke dip. I had a steak salad, but the salmon flatbread sandwich I sampled from a co-worker was much better. Dessert included the stout-infused molten chocolate brownie, peanut butter cheesecake, and the most dense red velvet cake I've ever tasted. It was packed with flavor and loaded with thick cream cheese icing.

The tour at Red Hook is a must for the 21-year-olds in the area. Located at the exit for Pease Tradeport, it sits in the corporate area of Newington-Portsmouth. But once you're inside, you're pretty much transported to the world of Red Hook. Which, the tour guide was quick to say, puts quality in its brews. And I guess it was a quality time.

How to say hello in Khmer

2010-05-09T16:31:00.001-07:00

Racing to absorb as much New England as I can before I go international

2010-05-04T16:31:00.000-07:00

Bow Street in downtown Portsmouth (a favorite of Seacoast residents for eating, shopping, partying)

Enjoying our banquet - the only time I ever stepped foot inside of UNH's historic New England Center (hotel and conference center). The hotel is closing due to economic reasons in June. The rest of the building will serve as a dorm for upperclassmen, just one solution to UNH's recent housing shortage.

And I have less than a month to do so. Graduation is scheduled for Saturday, May 22. I fly to the great state of Washington Sunday the 23, with my entire nuclear family plus the two maternal grandparents in tow. Dude, it's gonna be a great time. I can feel it.

No new exploits since Happy Valley. One plan to go to Montreal has been aborted, but trips to Portland, Maine, Boston, and New York City are all likely possibilities.

But living life like a normal college student is totally different. Who knew they had so much free time? Without practice or newspaper meetings, life is strangely wide open.

Plans for travel post-college are a definite yes. Cabo San Lucas? I can almost see you! The trip is on the horizon - ten glorious days in the sun. Phe-nom-en-al.

My life after that is looking more and more certain: I will be indeed going international. Hints? I may need to brush up on some Khmer - could be useful in Cambodia. We're jumping into life like there's no tomorrow, people. And on the plus side, I never have to worry about making it into a gymnastics facility again.

Like I said: Phenomenal.

For now, soaking in as much New England as I can handle. Made it to Portsmouth a record FOUR times this past week. I know, pretty crazy. The leaves are on the trees now, the crammed, ancient downtown in Portsmouth is bustling, hot and humid. I've become obsessed with the map and travel store in the alleyway downtown. And never forget River Run Books - friendly service and amazing staff picks.

Durham's New England Center (gotta hit up the retro Acorns restaurant before they shut down!), Portsmouth's The Friendly Toast (one of my last greek egg white scrambles with Anadama bread), Old Ferry Landing (get the tugboat - all you need to know is it has cranberry juice and tequila), The Page (one word: nachos. you won't regret it), Muddy River (pulled pork - and you can get it the health-conscious way! In a salad!), The Portsmouth Brewery (Get the chocolate hazelnut cake, por favor - and any of brewskies), Radici...the last time (for a while) that I can enjoy these specific drinks, food, places. Portsmouth's restaurants are crowded in cobblestone alleys and seaside sidewalks. My freshman and sophomore years, I'd constantly feel like I'd been transported to colonial times, and walked the streets in wonder.

Now? It feels normal. God, I hope I'm not taking the historical significance for granted!

Radici was my newest discovery. Maybe I liked it so much because of the wine, or maybe it was the juicy, fresh, and spicy Seafood Fra Diavolo. Or the roasted vegetable antipasti platter with flatbread. Or maybe it was the company -I gotta thank you, Elizabeth Brugger. Eating out after a sunny lacrosse game at Phillips Exeter Academy, driving through Hampton beach, Newcastle, and finally Portsmouth. New England definitely wouldn't have been the same without you. On to preparing for more travels and more blog entries. To Washington State, New Hampshire, and beyond...

Out in Portsmouth - partaking of The Old Ferry Landing and The Page

Hazelnut Chocolate cake with ice cream at The Portsmouth Brewery. Good hearty American fare - and brews.

Life's all right in the 'Happy Valley'

2010-04-10T07:38:00.001-07:00

Getting our heads into the game at NCAA Regionals

The home of the Nittany Lions - competing against five other teams (top two go to Nationals)

Ok, State College, Pennsylvania's pretty cool. Everything has this quaint, midwestern feel - but the old brick buildings, older than UNH's and built on a far grander scale - give the school this unique aura. I'm intrigued.

It's gorgeous here. I never thought myself much of a prairie, 'happy valley' type girl (the jagged mountains and sparkling blue waters of the pacific northwest do that to you), but I can totally see the allure of the wide open fields, trees just now blooming, and rolling hills in the background. It all has a very "Pleasantville" feel to it.

Each of the team's rooms at the Penn Stater Hotel and Conference Center has an adjoining lounge, two full-sized beds, and a sofa bed. The lounges have a very retro feel - low couches and two chairs that gaze out floor-to-ceiling windows at the valley. I'm sitting right there today, in fact. It's a sunny, 70-degree day - not a cloud in the sky. Every time I see trees with leaves on them I'm shocked. The leaves were just starting to sprout in New Hampsh.

Yesterday, the squad breakfasted at "The Corner" - State College's signature downtown diner. Must've been pretty old. Everything was covered in dark wood, there were tons of pictures of horse races and stables. Everything these State College kids need is downtown - right up to multiple bookstores, stylish boutiques, and great shoes. Old brick and wood buildings cram together in a far larger downtown than in Durham.

Yes, I even found myself a pair of red espadrilles, perfect for my trip to Cabo San Lucas this June. (Thanks for the graduation present, mom and dad!)

Which brings me to the significance of this moment. Last gymnastics meet of my life. What?? Seriously. The end of a 17-year chapter of my life. Had to happen sometime. I'm taking the time to savor everything about this moment. My scone, oatmeal and bacon at breakfast never tasted better. We sat at the long tables at the conference center's breakfast buffet today, talking about what gymnastics has given us, and what life will be like after.

Yesterday, the girls were going crazy with post-gymnastics plans. Let's just take it one day at a time, I said. There will be plenty to do. We raced from the Ruby Tuesday's to the bus, our stomachs full, wanting to hold onto our last moments on a college team for as long as we could.

Today is Regionals. But it's also so much more. It's the end of an era. An era of incredibly high ups and terrifically low downs: beautiful precisely because of its twists and turns, character building, variety of experience. We've seen the country. We've gotten yelled at by coaches, ripped our hands, torn our ACLS, some have broken their backs, persevered in the name of ourselves and our team, overcome personal squabbles to achieve the same goal, found a greater meaning in what could've been a simple recreational activity.

We've given gymnastics our all. Now all we can do is stick our last landing and salute. It's been a glorious time. No regrets.

To Penn State - and the end of gymnastics

2010-04-06T18:30:00.000-07:00

What could be (most likely) my last gymnastics meet EVER. This weekend. NCAA Regionals. Penn State.

Oklahoma, LSU, Penn St., Ohio State, Maryland, us. The top two teams qualify to Nationals at Florida. We are seeded sixth.

It's taken a good 17 years to get to this point. I could have a tearful speech planned, and I just might cry again...but I feel like I had my share of emotional moments at the senior meet (against NC State in early March). I guess I'm feeling ready.

Bussing the eight hours to State College, PA - and no pressure. Just there to do our routines and have a good time.

From there on...it's the home stretch until graduation. First spring comes (a 75 degree Easter), now gymnastics is over, then the newspaper? Talk about surreal.

I'll be back to check in. God knows I'll have some time on my hands. Later.

Denton, Texas: in the heart of America

2010-03-19T08:20:00.000-07:00

Eating at midnight in the Atlanta airport after I wrote this post. I took us 24 hours to travel home - we ended up sleeping in the airport after missing our connection. Long story. Fuel and air traffic issues.

In the largest Honky Tonk (after the post was written). Stocked up on BBQ ribs and chile. Ain't nothin like Southern BBQ.

Historic Ft. Worth

If you're looking for a chain restaurant or store of any sort, Denton has it. This is America's heartland: a bounty of Chile's, Targets, Texas Roadhouses, and Olive Gardens in a 70-degree, cloudless and sunny, flat frontier landscape.

Texas, baby. This is it.

There are times when I expect Sandra Bullock's Blind Side character to hop from out of nowhere - but wait, that was Tennessee, not Texas. My bad.

We're here for our last regular-season home meet at Texas Women's University. Since it's our spring break, we left Wednesday and will be here until Sunday. It's like a mini-vacation - though our tans will hardly rival our classmates who journeyed to Florida, Vegas, or other tropical paradises. Our coaches have set a one-hour per day sunbathing limit until after our meet tonight. Sun tires the body and burns energy.

Yesterday we could smell fresh BBQ wafting from one of the restaurants across the highway. It really added to the experience.

Texas Women's is the top Division 2 school in the country. The campus is serene, lined with cottonwoods in full bloom, standard brick-and-pillared buildings (it has a brick greco-roman feel) and top-of-the-line facilities - all geared toward women. According to the coaches, one percent of the school population is male.

Apparently, these girls have to venture to University of North Texas (also located in Denton) to expand their dating pool. That one percent yields some pretty meager results.

Dallas' Six Flags tomorrow, flying home Sunday (back just before midnight). Three meets left of the season. Ah, I shouldn't think about that - I'll get myself crying again! It's been quite a ride.

My brother is pretty smart

2010-03-13T09:14:00.000-08:00

I took the time today to actually look at my brother's Web site. I was immediately stunned by the poignancy of his cover letter - he managed to say in two paragraphs what I've been ruminating over since the beginning of last summer.So, in honor of my bro, here's an excerpt:

Dreams

When we were little we were told that we could be whatever we wanted. Most kids want to be a police officer, or fire fighter, or even a pro athlete. In my case I wanted to be a pro basketball player. It wasn't until I was cut from the seventh grade basketball team that I realized that maybe I wouldn't become a pro basketball player, so I went back to the drawing board. Loving the news, I thought, “hey! I can be a news reporter!” And so in my mind since then I have always held this notion that I could become a TV news reporter. When I saw Jayz and Nelly rap on MTV though, I quickly changed my mind and decided to become a rapper. The only problem, my flow was wack. I practiced and practiced and eventually found that I cannot rap very well, so I backtracked in my dreams returning to my original passion of being a TV news reporter.

It's a shame really; many kids when they reach a certain age throw away their childhood dreams and opt for something more realistic. My Dad wanted to be a rock star when he was younger; He would rock out on the drums every night, now he rocks out on a computer at Boeing as an electrical engineer. It's understandable, I guess, being an engineer, job security, financial stability, and a constant flow of new work, but why can't we have our dreams fulfilled at the same time as providing stability for our families?

Tales from D.C. and the start of spring

2010-03-10T12:25:00.000-08:00

My favorite quote from the WWII Memorial

More of the WWII Memorial. One side represents war in the Atlantic, the other war in the Pacific.

Yeah - the team monument picture was a must.

I had no idea they drained the cement ponds in the winter. Who knew?

I haven't seen this many people downtown since last October. It's fantastic. Got the usual trios sitting around the patio tables outside Breaking New Grounds, some convertibles with the tops rolled down (though it's still a mere 50 degrees, I don't know about that...) and lots and lots of flip flops.

Yes, I proudly sported my Havanas, last year's birthday present from my bro (and a SoCal fave) all day today. Speaking of which, I should repaint my toenails. Spring is calling.

Friday marks the beginning of Spring Break - and the arrival of the parentals from Washington for our Senior meet. We've got a meet in Texas scheduled next week, so we'll be leaving early for that - an hour north of Dallas. Good times.

Washington, D.C. was a blast. Yes, we beat William and Mary and George Washington despite some falls on beam, but the sightseeing was my fave, as always. I hadn't been in the city since our "East Coast family vacation" summer of 7th grade. The fateful trip that made me want to go to college out here.

It was a breezy 50 degrees when we arrived, stepping off the (noticeably chic and cushioned) Metro station at the Washington Mall. Snapped some pictures right away. Oh, Washington memorial in the background! Perfect Facebook profile!

Next up were some handstands against the monument. Other tourists asked us to hold our handstands longer so they could take some pictures of us as well. Oh, man. Sometimes the novelty of gymnastics amuses me.

New to me was the World War II Memorial, dedicated by George Bush in 2004. I used up the last of my pictures before my camera died, making sure to remember some chilling quotes capturing the essence of war. The fountains were beautiful, with the Jefferson Monument peeking across the way, and the Lincoln Memorial another pond away.

I hadn't realized they drain the square cement pools (that can be seen during MLK's speech, Forrest Gump, and other summer Capitol scenes) during the winter because they freeze over. Apparently people have been known to venture onto the frozen pools of water and slip through weak ice. Not smart.

I was amazed at the difference between viewing the memorials as a 12-year-old and and as a 21-year-old. The young soldiers depicted outside the Vietnam War memorial brought tears to my eyes, as did the names people were charcoaling from the monument itself. Seeing a visual depiction of young, vulnerable soldiers my age in a state of war hit me in a completely different way than my 12-year-old self, who was more concerned with the 90 degree heat and an uncomfortable amount of mosquito bites. I think my top concern was finding a scalding hot bench to burn the itch away.

Not so this time.

In other news, the George Washington campus was awesome. D.C. is considerably slower-paced than NYC, and has much more of a small town feel- so its similarities to Columbia were almost more charming. The school was urban but quaint. I had to catch some of the GW gymnasts off guard and compliment them on their university of choice. They looked surprised, but happy.

Ah, and here we are, back in the 'shire, awaiting spring break. Keep ya posted, as always.

Weekend Update

2010-03-05T06:30:00.000-08:00

Spent a lovely week here in Durham, where temperatures are rising. It's been a crazy week with storm aftermath. And the poor sailing team - their boathouse burned down Wednesday night, along with 32 sailboats. Things have been hoppin over here in the 'Shire.

We are scheduled to go to Washington, D.C. tomorrow morning to compete at George Washington - I'm excited to fill you in an our adventures at the capital, to be completed Saturday afternoon. Back Sunday night - how much can we pack into a little more than 24 hours?

Next week is also our senior meet, and mom and dad are coming from Washington state to watch and do a little east coast sight seeing. Dartmouth and Boston are on the itinerary. I'm hoping some shopping is on the list also...and an interview suit would be a wise purchase.

That's all here, folks. Sunny and 35 degrees. I'm liking it.

Discoveries

2010-02-28T11:46:00.000-08:00

Ah! I have to share my sleuthing skills - turns out I know TWO of UNH's anonymous bloggers. Very entertaining blogs - The New Hampshirite, and the slightly more profane UNH Hi Lites - not updated since November. Actually reading that one today made me aware that I know at least one of the writers for the blog. Small, small world, people.

Blacked out in Durham...again

2010-02-26T08:33:00.000-08:00

Remember the power outages last year? We experienced a similar phenomenon last night, with huge winds simulating a Northeast hurricane - or wait, what do they call those here? A "Nor' Easter?"

Its a bizarre 43 degrees outside and the winds have since died down. Dead branches, pop cans, and other debris litter the street. Clean up crews spent 4 hours (from 3 a.m. to 7 a.m.) cleaning up one of the huge trees that fell to the ground in front of Young's Restaurant last night. Classes were canceled everywhere in the area.

My facts are still coming straight from the rumor mill, but according to Mr. Young, owner of Young's Restaurant, more than 250,000 people in the area were without power this morning. Power came back on Main Street around noon today. The rest of UNH's campus got it back a little earlier. The dining hall had its scanner up and running, so I unfortunately had to use one of my meal swipes for my breakfast this morning, which happened to last three hours.

I love socializing during semi-natural disasters.

Some places in the area are expecting to be powerless for multiple days, many don't know when power will return.

Maryland, our opponent this weekend, had their flight canceled. They're flying out of Maryland at 8 a.m. tomorrow. The chance of 2 inches of snow might mess that up, but I'm betting everything will go smoothly, and if worst comes to worse they'll delay our meet by two hours.

That's the latest as far as adventures go here in Durham. Ciao.

It's been forever

2010-02-22T04:31:00.000-08:00

Chowing down after the meet

Why, hello, there. I hope you haven't forgotten about me. Just got back from Michigan State yesterday, and plan on a nice week (with a home meet this weekend), where I will catch up on blog posting and work. Not too much work, actually, so all the more time to blog.

Up at my usual 7 a.m. this morning for some blueberry oatmeal, then off to weight lifting. (I weight lift in the mornings, to make up for production night on Monday nights).

It's been awesome getting to go on these weekend travel excursions. Trying to make the most of every weekend - even if we are simply in Missouri or Michigan - is a task I'm totally up to. I've also been reading like crazy on the plane - my History of Islam textbook combined with a number of books from the Paulo Coehlo series. The Alchemist, Witch of Portobello, and just now finishing The Pilgrimage. I also bought Brida at a bookstore in Lansing, along with my coffee and gigantic post-meet oatmeal raisin cookie. Thought I was gonna die until I had that. Blood sugar levels after meets require hefty nourishment. Usually this means plenty of sugar.

Missouri and Michigan - so flat, with temperatures similar to New Hampshire. Just makes me love UNH that much more. Looking back, UNH offered everything I was looking for in a school: that New England college feel. Now, we did make a detour in Ann Arbor before the meet at Michigan State, and I won't deny that the U of Michigan is beautiful.

Lindsay Bruck, our assistant coach and former Michigan gymnast (c/o 2008) gave us a small tour on the way to drop her off to be with her family. It just happened to be Michigan's alumni meet Friday night (our meet was in Michigan State Saturday afternoon). So Lindsay got to attend her alma mater's gymnastics meet against Utah, and Gail's van got to drop her off.

We saw their gymnastics facilities (state of the art, amazing) and the names of the buildings in the heart of campus. The architecture was beautiful - completely gothic and stately. They were HUGE. She pointed out their academic center for athletes. The gigantic building was a complete contrast to our tiny room at UNH's Field House. I'd been to Michigan my freshman year for Regionals, but we didn't get to see much of the campus. Downtown Ann Arbor was adorable too, with its funky shops. Those kids are so lucky - they have an Urban Outfitters right downtown!

I did explain to Gail that that was a plus side of Durham though: no financial distractions, clothing-wise. The outlet malls in Kittery are a great distraction for when parents come, but we really don't have splendid shopping. We usually acquire new clothes online, during breaks at home, or while traveling. So another point for UNH, depending on the way you look at it.

Michigan State was just as big, but not quite as classy. We competed at their Field House, which was dated. Their drinking fountains were a bit unsafe as well. The water was brown and didn't taste that great. Kids dressed up as Spartans while we competed, which was entertaining. We had an awesome meet until beam, where a number of us fell.

Went to a chain restaurant afterward, not quite as good as the nice Italian restaurant we were at the night before, but perfect for a post-meet meal. We usually are so hungry we don't care too much about quality. Just need something to shove in our bodies quickly so our stomachs stop hurting. I did make sure to order a side of steak fries with my BBQ chicken salad (we are still in season, after all)...but didn't feel completely recovered until my cookie a couple of hours later. The only activity we really had the chance to do was look around at the outdoor mall next to the restaurant we ate at. That's irony at it's finest: an outdoor mall in MICHIGAN. We walked around in the snow outside, strolling past J. Crew and Forever 21, wondering why in God's name they would build an outdoor mall here. The world may never know.

I'm off to lifting, but I have to tell you once again how much I'm treasuring each meet this season. Realizing that it's the last time I'll be able to go on all-expenses paid trips to some of the best colleges in the country definitely helps soak things up.

And as we flew in to the Boston airport yesterday, I was astonished at how normal it felt. From flying in as an alien freshman year, to feeling like a resident. Those tiny New England buildings, all crunched together...they looked familiar and safe. The skyline of downtown Boston was comforting and familiar. As the sun shone on our bus leaving for Durham, I felt this overwhelming gratitude for being allowed to chase my dreams and compete collegiate gymnastics in an area so rich in history. It's been a wild ride. And it ain't over yet.

Mizzou

2010-02-06T10:46:00.000-08:00

We have made it to Missouri, despite multiple storm warnings, turbulence, and lots of sleet/snow.

It's grey and overcast outside. I'm sitting at a Hampton Inn (GREAT free breakfast), enjoying free internet in the biz center.

Today we compete against the University of Missouri - the coliseum in which we will be competing is a short walk across the parking lot from our hotel. Earlier in the week, some people got sick, but I think they're feeling better. I'm excited.

Looks like just exhibition on beam again today for me, but the lineup could change depending on how people are feeling. Regardless, this year I'm not taking traveling for granted like I might have in the past. Injuries have a way of illuminating the positive experiences of the sport - and what makes it special.

Hey, we get free food and lodging all weekend. Totally stocking up on the free pens here at the hotel. How convenient. All of mine back in Durham were starting to run out of ink.

Had our usual relaxing, two flight journey here. Layover in Chicago-Midway. Of course, I can't seem to be able to wander the airport without throwing down cash for something. This time, it was the latest issue of "The Economist" and a brand new copy of The Alchemist. I told my teammate about how I kept running into that book, and always meant to get it, but never felt like spending the money. She said I should get it. It was fate.

So I did. Plunked down $14.99 and afterward found out that a couple of people on the team had their own copies. Oh well. I finished it today and am VERY happy I have a copy all to myself. It was amazing. Just added it to my list of faves on Facebook, no big deal. It had so much to say about taking the time to dream and following your heart to reach those dreams. Very appropriate at this juncture of life, if I do say so myself.

That's probably what I'm going to miss the most about these little weekend getaways for meets, something I've been doing since high school. You pack a lot of learning into 2-4 days. Each weekend is magical, with new sights, experiences, and lessons. New books, new conversations, new food, new people....

Ok, I'll stop elaborating on the obvious. We have lunch coming at 1 p.m. (I've ordered the California Club from Jimmie John's, the sub chain), but I'm not going to eat until around 2:30. We leave at 3:30 for the meet. Dinner afterward.

Oh, and by the way, amazing service here in Missouri. Our late night dinner at Applebee's was actually quite enjoyable. They got our food to us in a timely manner and were very accommodating for a group of 19 with 10 minutes' notice. I highly recommend the new BBQ chicken salad there. Great cornbread croutons - taking chain restaurant fare to new levels, people. Kept me from passing out and made the two hours' drive to Columbia, endless lady gaga and five rounds of Jay-Z's "Empire State of Mind" on the radio semi-tolerable.

Loving life. Ready for what should be a fun meet - updates soon!

Pitt comes to Durham, memories of earthquakes past

2010-01-30T08:39:00.000-08:00

Pittsburgh is coming to UNH today - we're gearing up to face the Panthers at home in Lundholm Gymnasium.

I'm psyched - finally doing exhibition on beam and floor - it's been a process working my way into the lineup this year, since we have the strongest team we've ever had. The depth is amazing. Right now we're 7-0, and have two of the highest scores we've ever had at this point in the season. We're pumped.

School started, and with it, the newspaper. Our lead article was about the chance of earthquakes occuring in New Hampshire. Apparently, a magnitude 6.0 earthquake would do more damage here than in California, with the way the plats lie. I'd believe that. Plus there's all these old brick buildings from when the colonists settle here. Love it.

Of course, I had to brag about surviving the 6.8 earthquake that hit off the coast of Tacoma/Steilacoom, WA during 2001. Seattle, though farther away, experienced more damage than we did in Tacoma, because of the rocks it's built on, and older buildings. I remember images of cracked brick at the Starbucks headquarters.

Fenix Underground Cafe, Seattle - after the magnitude 6.8 earthquake hit February 28, 2001.

I was sitting in my 7th grade social studies class at the time, learning about Japanese culture, when the ground started to shake. We'd had our share of earthquake drills, but we'd never had to act on our training before.

"Get under your desks!" My teacher, Mrs. Langford yelled.

We all dove for the ground, clutching the legs of the fiberglass and metal desks while a couple of ceiling tiles fell.

"I don't want to die, I don't want to die," the girl across from me muttered, her teeth chattering from the shaking ground.

I was frozen, in disbelief. Thirty seconds later, the quake was over. And so was our normal school day.

We got to open up our "Earthquake kits" for the special occasion: gallon ziploc bags containing soup, granola bars, trash bags to sleep in, and notes from mom and dad. After years of preparing emergency kits for school, getting to open them up was a thrill.

Hot lunch was canceled, so my friend, whose order of Girl Scout cookies had arrived that day, called for a line to form behind her desk and began distributing alternative food to the kids in our class.

We spent the rest of the day learning about earthquakes and watching pictures of Seattle float by on the television screen. Nobody was seriously hurt, and we had a free day. I thought it was all pretty exciting. Oh, us survivors.

Back to the paper.....

We're focusing more on feature stories this semester, and I think this will improve our content significantly. We're also thinking of who will take on leadership positions next year - it's getting to be the time to pass the torch.

After an unseasonably warm week (sunny and in the 40s, with some rain mixed in the first few days), it is currently six degrees. Yesterday it was 12 degrees, zero with the wind chill. It's frickin frigid!! At least it's sunny. That's more than my parents could say about WA this morning: in the 40s and rainy, as usual.

The walk to the Field House yesterday was the most difficult walk of my life. Reminded me of the shock of my first New England winter freshman year; braving the walk up the hill toward the Field House, covering my red, chapped face from the wind, emitting gasps of pain every time a gust threatened to push me off the sidewalk into the street.

Wow. Winter here really sucks sometimes.

At least I'll get a ride to the Field House today. The meet is at 4 - followed by a clinic and some dinner. Wish us luck!!

To Providence - and then the start of spring semester

2010-01-23T16:09:00.000-08:00

I apologize for not following up my last post immediately, as I said I would. It's funny - I always seem to have a few productive days where all I want to do is write, followed by moments where the last thing I want to do is look at my computer. So now it's been 10 days since my last post. Not ideal.

Spring semester starts this coming Tuesday. Campus is finally filling up with kids again! It's revving me up to start the semester. Of course, this means I have to assign some stories for next Friday's issue and get more productive on the newspaper front. Cam's got the countdown going - 18 issues until the staff turnover and our month and a half as free college seniors.

In other news, UNH gymnastics is leaving at 7:30 a.m. for our third meet of the season, in Providence, RI at Brown. Apparently the gym is off-campus - so we won't get to see the ivy league school I was also recruited by. Too bad - I always wondered what it looked like. Ivy league schools still hold an elitist allure for me. I'm set to finally check out Dartmouth with my parents when they come out for our senior meet. Still dreaming old dreams...

I'll be picking up a toasted PB&J whole wheat bagel and coffee from Breaking New Grounds for the bus ride. We've ordered Subs for the meet, but it's really the post meet meal that everyone's excited about. Yes, people, we are really going to The Cheesecake Factory. If all goes well, I will be at least sharing a white-chocolate macadamia nut cheesecake tomorrow night. (It's fine, I'll settle for Oreo if that's the only option...everyone's been raving about it...)

I also apologize for neglecting to cover our second meet of the season, where we got a 195.00 here in Durham at our UNH invitational - almost unheard of at such an early point in the season. Everyone did awesome. The coaches were psyched. We beat Ball State, Yale, and Utah State. All of us are looking forward to improving tomorrow.

So that's where we're at, in late January of 2010. The year has started off with a bang (well, quite literally a bang, when I landed on my head during my last tumbling pass...), and is looking rosy with possibilities. I'm still staying active on the application front. I want as many options as possible. Email me if ya got ideas!!

Until next time (perhaps upon my return from Providence?)

To Exeter we go

2010-01-13T06:14:00.000-08:00

Downtown Exeter. A bit more of a selection than Durham.

With just two weeks left until the spring semester starts, I'm beginning to get anxious. The first two weeks back were fine, but now I want everyone back. Maybe it was getting a concussion last week - too much time to laze around.

Well, thanks to my brain working properly without headaches, I've been able to read and write for longer periods of time. Meaning I can hole myself up in my apartment that overlooks Main Street and scour the internet for more job options and information on all that "corps"-type stuff.

We have a day off of practice today - meaning, an entire day to choose activities. I'll be heading over to Exeter with our business advisor at TNH for a nice lunch and view of the shops. We were discussing how we wished Durham had a similar downtown the other day.

For being a college town, the options for shops are slim to none. Really, there's Hayden Sports/The Outback downtown, the UNH Bookstore, and one consignment shop around the corner from DHOP (Durham House of Pizza) - Bindi's Boutique. Nothing that sparks of high fashion, particularly.

But Exeter has some high-end boutiques, catered, no doubt, to the Phillips Exeter Academy crowd. AND it has a nice selection of restaurants. The only time I've dined downtown has been for lunch at "The Loaf n' Ladle," which had amazing fresh bread, soups, and sandwiches. I'll fill you in on where we go today.

Phillips Exeter Academy: Quality education that costs a pretty penny

Exeter's an interesting town. You have the prep school kids, and then there's the public high school - and I've come to know people from both. A close family friend's son attends the Academy - she raves about the quality of education to be found - professional teachers, small class sizes (average of about 12 kids per class), seminar-style teaching (encouraging discussion), and visits from prominent alumni (including Da Vinci Code author Dan Brown). Her son has definitely learned to dress the part every day - he knows where to find the latest deals on Vineyard Vines ties, can put a nice shirt and tie together quite nicely, and always looks stylishly pressed. I can't say I learned as much at Curtis High School (hey! it WAS a Blue Ribbon School!). The major downside: I believe it costs as much as many colleges. Unbelievable resume though.

Basically, PEA is what I envisioned I'd find more of back East: the whole prep-school vibe is definitely a beacon of old-money East Coast culture. And the campus is GORGEOUS. At UNH, though, everyone's pretty down to earth.

Most of the kids from Exeter attending UNH went to the public school - which is pretty much your average high school. Sometimes it's funny hearing them talk about the Academy kids (although my talks with our friends have informed me that one of the prerequisites for acceptance to the elite school is a passion for learning and genuine friendliness independent of a parent's influence over their kid). Pretty much the public Exeter High School is probably similar to what I experienced at Curtis: an upper-middle class high school in the suburbs with some good and bad teachers.

I guess I'm interested on people's take on the whole prep-school thing. Is it worth it? What do people from Exeter think? Do we all secretly wish we came from the families able to send their kids to such a high-end school? And why can't Durham's downtown be more like Exeter's? The delayed Mill Plaza Renovations had hoped to achieve similar results - why wasn't Durham like that in the first place?

More to come. Stay tuned.

Yemen still wedded to child marriages - Washington Times

2010-01-12T10:18:00.000-08:00

Yemen still wedded to child marriages - Washington Times

Good old Nicholas Kristof

2010-01-10T11:47:00.000-08:00

Just another inspirational interview with the NYT columnist and author of bestseller "Half the Sky"

A point of interest - Athlete Mentors

2010-01-10T07:06:00.000-08:00

This is the final version for my class multimedia project, Athlete Mentors (taken from my last post on the keelsmedia blog. You can get more on the background at that link, too).

Just putting it out there for you to enjoy - the visuals are less than stunning and I'm aware of many areas I could improve upon (sound quality, hockey action shots, more of Micaela and Linsey together...).

However, I do like the story arc. Looking back, this choice for my final project is a reflection of the postgraduate direction to which I've been leaning for a while now. The idealistic side of me really wants to make a difference - and THIS is the kind of journalism I want to do.

Just hanging out with Micaela and Linsey with the other kids at the Newmarket Rec Center was a learning experience. It's remarkable what one committed, stable person can do for someone. A person who believes in you - it gave Linsey a sense of self-esteem she never had before.

We're all the same, in the end. I told one of my friends over break that the last 21 years of my life have been selfish. They've been amazing - I've met all of my goals so far. But now I'm ready for bigger goals, making a difference on a larger scale. I want to help other people reach their goals. I don't want to sit on the sidelines any more.

Thanks for giving me this gift, Micaela and Linsey. Ya learn something new every day.

Jersey again?

2010-01-09T19:39:00.000-08:00

The interior of Livingston Center at Rugers.

First meet against Rutgers. Departed UNH 11 a.m. Friday.

Two movies, 24 individually prepared lunches from Village pizza, and one rest stop later (including two of those dreadful hours spent in Connecticut), and we were chowing down at the Sablosky residence in Springfield, New Jersey. Yep, the gigantic bus parked right in the Sablosky driveway of their suburban home. The whole time, I couldn't help thinking about how I always seem to be coming back to Jersey.

(Quick recap: I spent the summer of my Sophomore year at the Sablosky residence, commuting to New York City for my internship at WCBS-TV. Andie is a friend and fellow UNH gymnast who was kind enough to open her home and family to me.)

And oh, what a meal it was. I kept expressing how nice it was to have the familiar catered italian food and Sablosky beverages. (Alyssa always keeps seltzer, diet coke, green tea, and coffee, lots of coffee, on hand. In signature individual Keurig coffee packets.) Fitting the team into their house for a nice dinner and chatting with my Jersey fam was a blast, especially looking at the rest of the team's amusement with the plasma T.V.s in every room. But before we knew it, it was 8 p.m., and we were on our way to the Embassy Suites in New Brunswick.

Unfortunately for me, this past Wednesday, I landed on my head while trying out a new tumbling pass, sustaining a mild concussion. It was enough to set me back from practices and competing for the first meet. So I watched Jennifer Love Hewitt in "Ghost Whisperer" from the Suite's hide-a-bed, unnervingly calm. (I also caught up on Smallville - dude, Clark Kent actually flies in Metropolis now! He's matured so much since the high school days spent in the cornfields...)

So I went to bed Friday night without the usual nervous butterflies. It was weird. Definitely made me decide I'm not ready to be done yet - got a season to complete! Should be ready to practice by Monday to kick ass at our first home meet, the UNH invite. It was the first meet I didn't compete at while attending UNH, and definitely put some things in perspective.

ANYWAY, woke up for Embassy Suite's fabulous breakfast 8:30 Saturday morning, headed over to Rutgers' Livingston Center, and competed our hearts out. We had our share of falls on bars, but ended the meet in a respectable manner and beat Rutgers. Still have a lot to improve on, but better starting like that than finishing like that - it's a long season with more chances to make a mark.

Taryn Arch ties up Katie Cal's ribbon. We take hair seriously in this sport.

And the way home was the icing on the cake. We took the "scenic route," over the George Washington bridge, much to the chagrin of all of the Jersey girls on the team who were used to the faster route. Subs, Pirates of the Carribean, and the sun setting over the NYC skyline and the Upper West Side. MMMM nothin better than ending a meet like that.

I think the lyric "concrete jungle where dreams are made of" is very apt. I can't help but dream every time I'm in the vicinity of the word New York. Here's to trying out the NYC lifestyle sometime soon - cross your fingers for me!!

New Year, New Season, New Chapter

2010-01-02T20:08:00.000-08:00

I arrived bleary-eyed from my red eye flight to Boston with that nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach. I never know what to expect when I arrive back in time for break. The return always feels a bit premature, when you know all of your other classmates are about to enjoy another month of relaxation. My nap during my two-hour hang out at the C&J Trailways office did nothing to ease the tension. Neither did reading the newspaper account of the woman who ingested anthrax at a drum circle at the Waysmeet Center. Yikes.

But somehow, that day's practice and weight lifting weren't that bad, even on 3.5 hours of sleep. And same with the next day.

Durham was dead, but I was still talking to other people hanging out around the area. The girls were hard at work, and we've managed to do some fun things, including eating out and playing an excessive amount of Rock Band for our apartment's Wii (compliments of Diane Grey).

We enjoyed a day off on New Year's - and our next one won't be until next Tuesday. Saturday brings our first meet - 1 p.m. at Rugers, in good old Jersey.

And with that, the season begins. And once it starts, all six of us will be holding tight, since for us, it'll be the last. Oh, and we're saving our best for the occasion, not to worry.