"You'll need coffee shops and sunsets and road trips. Airplanes and passports and new songs and old songs, but people more than anything else. You will need other people and you will need to be that other person to someone else, a living breathing screaming invitation to believe better things."

-Jamie Tworkowski

Comes the Dawn

After a while you learn, the subtle difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul, and you learn that love doesn't mean leaning, and company doesn't always mean security. And you begin to learn, that kisses aren't contracts, and presents aren't promises, and you begin to accept your defeats, with your head up and your eyes ahead, with the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child, and you learn, to build all your roads on today, because tomorrow's ground is, too uncertain for plans, and futures have a way of falling down in mid flight, after a while you learn, that even sunshine burns if you get too much, so plant your own garden, and

decorate your own soul,

instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers, and you learn, that you really can endure, that you are really strong, and that you really do have worth, and you learn, and you learn, with every good bye you learn.

Realizations from the past month as told by Veronica.

Lessons Learned: Coming Home

The first thing that I do after I pick a place to travel to is run to the nearest book store and snag a copy of the respective Lonely Planet book. From there I highlight, make marginal notes and make lists based off of the findings within the bounded spine. The one thing that it doesn't tell you is how to come home.

I would like to think that there isn't a set way to come home and that is why you can't find a trust worthy travel guide on how to come home, because it looks and feels different for everyone. The emotions are so drastic that one could not possibly put it simply into a book. Even as I write this post, I know that I will never get down the frustration, sadness and restlessness that has plagued me.

This is what I am finding out to be true on coming home-

1. You are going to want to cleanse yourself of everything that reminds you of the person you were before you left. This might include getting rid of piles of clothes at a time, because you just witnessed half of a country's population to be in mere rags. Before you left, doing what seems to be endless piles of laundry, use to be a daunting task. Now you just feel guilty for changing your outfit for dinner.

2. The smallest thing can set off the biggest emotional break down. Just the other day, I tried to fix myself a little breaky and ended up throwing a cereal bowl away as I cried on my kitchen floor. I was so overwhelmed by the fact that I had choices for breakfast. It seemed ridiculous that there were six different types of cereal, five types of fruit, eggs, waffles and breakfast sandwiches to choose from. Some people only know rice porridge to be breakfast.

Oh and the next day, you'll just avoid the kitchen in general until your stomach starts screaming at you how hungry it is. And the day after that you still won't have eaten breakfast. But then soon, you will. The moral of this situation is that readjusting back to does in fact require baby steps, and that is okay.

 3. The first trip to the grocery store will be the catalyst for anxiety and another break down resulting in you running out of the store before you can finish purchasing your items. I was privileged enough to experience life on different terms than I ever knew existed, it was only a distorted reality until I was there. Coming home soon becomes a series of depicting people's actions and selfish motivations. Stores, restaurants and social gatherings are very difficult to partake in because the isles and tables are consumed with selfishness, rude, self entitled people. Of course these different behaviors may seem like social norms in a Common Wealth society, but in the larger picture, I have come to realize how miserable Common Wealth citizens truly are.

4. It is going to seem as if you are traveling back in time. My biggest fear before I left was everyone was going to move on with their lives without me, and that I wouldn't have a place when I came back. Realistically though, not much is going to have changed. But there has been a larger, more impactful evolution within yourself. This isn't a testament to say that those who travel are better than those who don't venture off. But the truth is, when you travel you change at a more rapid pace. It appears that things back at home need a reason for a revolution, however, when you travel you are force to revolutionize your life because the world says so.

5. On that note, you won't be coming home the same person. I remember going to Africa for the first time and sobbing my eyes out because I knew that the girl who was boarding the plane at JFK airport was no longer going to return. To be honest, I did not expect this much change. I figured, I have seen suffering countries, I'm there to witness and hear stories ... but I never knew what would make of it. Little did I know my entire sense of self was in question. I would like to think that I will never properly or fully be the person I am meant to be. Which sounds scary, but my explanation for this is that I want to always work on bettering myself. I never want to be a completed project.

My priorities have radically changed, until Common Wealth living sucks me back into it. I listen to frustrated voicemails because "yet again," I didn't pick up my phone. Or too often do I go to make a phone call while I am out on errands to realize I have left it somewhere. I care more about talking slower and expressing thoughtful, genuine thoughts instead of surface level conversations. I've been fighting for kindness more and more. Kindness in the words I choose, the strangers I see and the amount of kindness presumed towards others. Mostly I allow myself to feel, without apologizing.

6. When changing and creating space for this new life, you will realize that some people from the past just don't fit. You no longer have energy to fight for friendships that don't continuously evolve you and make you a better person.

This.
Is.
Okay.

7. Anytime the mention of travel comes up in conversation, you will cry.

8. It doesn't make you a bad person for not wanting to be home.

Coming home is tough. It isn't a myth when people say you will experience more culture shock coming home than you do exploring uncharted territories. I had a couple of months given to me to live in a different country. There are things I witnessed and felt that most people will never begin to comprehend, and that is okay. It is difficult to explain the circumstances and events that weren't all picturesque although they are probably most important to my travels. Everyday has been a constant battle on who I was and who I have turned into. I am in frequent question of my surroundings, the people I associate myself with and the idea of what next.

Coming home isn't a photo oped homecoming.

It's lonely. It's discouraging to see the lack of ambition, when you once surrounded yourself with the most ambitious people. Looking back on older posts I laugh at the thought that I once missed home. Because 'that' home that I missed, isn't the one that I am in now.

At the end of the day, I just chuckle and say, "little naive girl, this is exactly what travel is all about. You wanted to be revolutionized, so you left. And now you are changed."

Pioneer Heart

"Life moves on, whether we act as cowards or heroes. Life has no other discipline to impose, if we would but realize it, than to accept life unquestioningly. Everything we shut our eyes to, everything we run away from, everything we deny, denigrate or despise, serves to defeat us in the end. What seems nasty, painful, evil can become a source of beauty, joy and strength, if faced with an open mind. Every moment is a golden one for him who has to vision to recgonise it as such." -Henry Miller

Ever since I could remember my biggest dream, aside from being Miss USA, was to work for a non-profit. A non-profit that made change to those who were lesser off than I was. A non-profit with dignity and poise that didn't need to make face, in order to validate it's existence.

At the ripe, young and naive age of twenty I landed my dream job working for Reach Out Volunteers. The first time ever going overseas was with them and it was enchanting. I would be lying if I didn't admit to questioning this amazing opportunity that had been given to me without much effort on my part. It was meant to be. So I did what most reckless individuals would do: quit university, signed away my own non-profit work, sublet my apartment and packed a duffel bag trusting it would get me through.

I took the plunge and decided to make the commitment of marrying the world, for better or for worse. The only safety net I would have was my work, my heart, and a map that led home. Naturally, skeptics were critical of this decision. They knew you [the world] had too much history and I was too naive. But I boarded the plane, for better or worse, not asking for anything in return. Like all relationships we have had our ups and downs. A few bumps that landed four stitches on my chin, financial issues when a friend cheated me because they were more desperate for money, and days of illness that would make a grown man want to crawl into his mum's lap.

The only expectation of this commitment is to continuously give my heart away. And so I do.

And oh do I get burned for it.

It is a reality that I never wanted to face. In a way, I always made sure that I was under prepared to face it, as if, if I were prepared then someone that meant I was a cynic. I should have taken closer notes in history and English classes as each book has a preamble explaining that there are two kind of people in the world: the good and the bad.

I guess going into the non-profit sector you never suspect that it would be with those people. The missions that they are so dedicated to, that is scribbled on their websites are some of the most inspiring pieces of literature you can come across. Taking on this job, I never suspected I would become exposed to the selfish, and putting on face aspect of the business in such a raw manner.

"You will have three grand loves in your lifetime," I was once told. I'll reserve one for my last boyfriend and one for the world. And oh does the world break your heart more brutally than any human can imagine.

I didn't write at all in the month of June because I needed a break.

I needed to breathe.

There was this urgent need in not knowing how to feel what I was feeling, because I was afraid it would kill me. I didn't want to think about it. It was survival.

Then selfishly I didn't want to write about it because I wanted to internalize it and allow myself to experience it for myself. We live in this marvelous world where we over share, and share instantaneously. It can be a great feature to our lives, but it can also be suffocating. Lately, I have found it to be the latter.

That is where I have been the past month. Trying to figure it all out.

What do you do when you realize that you "dream job," falls short on all basis? In the past month I found out that one of my heroes Somaly Mam wasn't who she said she was. Does that make her a bad person? Truthfully I don't know. There is a huge part of me that wants to believe she saw a horrific issue in her country and took the most desperate of measures to try and find a way to raise awareness about it. Then, shortly after do I witness at hand that my family, Reach Out Volunteers, sadly fell into that ugly disguise of putting on a facade in the wake of turbulence, opposed to doing the right and most dignified thing.

Considerably young and thousands of miles away from home did I literally feel my world unravel around me.

With a note from the doctor requesting my bed rest, I am at home with two ruptured ear drums, a viral infection (have yet to beat it), and server exhaustion/dehydration.

Oh and a broken heart.

I have a few weeks to figure out the next big move.

But if I know one thing is for certain, I won't be home for long.

Welcome to the Boys Club

This will probably be one of my favorite pictures that I will take while here in Cambodia. I have come to realize that I am better off as a secondary teacher opposed to a primary one because I like to play a little too much. I will never out grow my eight year old heart.

I am lucky to have such spirited neighbors. Every time they hear my heavy apartment door open, they scream running over for high fives.

This is happiness.

Oh Maya

I am curious to know if I am the only one who feels the burden of writing weighing down on their shoulders every time they take pen to paper or finger to key pad. Since arriving in Cambodia, every time I have faced a blank word document or empty page in my journal I have felt a devastating amount of stress in trying to get all of my thoughts down because it feelings as if I have a million and fourteen thoughts in once second. Then when I go to write, I am preoccupied trying to get everything down, I go to miss the empowering sense of reflecting and fulfillment within the words I am writing down.

Anyway, tonight I am doing something that I would never be doing at home. I am sitting on my front porch (which probably makes me sound super weird or uncool- what can I say, I like my reflections to happen while snuggled in bed watching Grey’s Anatomy reruns).  I don’t know. My time here in South East Asia is limited to a plane ticket marked for August 3^rd and I don’t want to regret spending more time inside than I did outside I guess.

I just found out a couple hours ago that Maya Angelou passed away. As a human being who shared the world as her I am affected. As someone who studies English I am affected. As a woman I am affected. But as a young girl, who first sought comfort in her words at the ripe age of fourteen I am devastated.

When I found out I stopped feeling and thinking everything that occupied my mind. After reading those words, “Maya Angelou Dies at Age 86,” I felt every cell in my body tremble. My heart started pounding and my knees became weak. How could it be true that Maya Angelou dies? She was my hero and heroes aren’t supposed to die.

I didn’t even know her and I right now all I want to do is hide under blankets and feel safe, because right now the world doesn’t feel safe, because now I feel alone. And this all sounds ridiculous because I didn’t know her but she had such a profound impact on me. Not only as a writer but as a woman and more importantly as a human being.

I remember I was 16 years old when I read her quote, “Have enough courage to trust love one more time and always one more time.” And it was stupid, my high school boyfriend and I had just broken up (for good this time, maybe not, I can never remember anymore) and I was pretty sure it was the end of the world as I laid in bed for four days, having my mother worry about me because I couldn’t bare to even eat a meal. Now I have come to realize that it wasn’t the end of the world. And those words made me realize that even if it wasn’t with Josh E. the god of Silver Valley during the time that one day my heart would be open again.

I find it ironic that that quote has resurfaced a number of times tonight as many pay tribute to her life because earlier today I opened up a word document, that contained a piece that I have been writing for over a year now. I haven’t touched the story in about seven months and harder than a freight training going 60 MPH I opened it up and the first page was the dedication that read: “For Nic, When it comes to love, you should love as if you are on borrowed time,” and that just goes back to Maya’s quote that pierced my heart so many years ago. Here I was at 18 years old falling flat on my face in love again just like I did when I was 14 and naïve enough to share my life with someone for three years thinking love could be measurable. And here I am not almost 21 years old thinking I am out of love just because I don’t have a boyfriend. Instead I am in this third world country and I keep raving about how I am in this love affair with this country and not a man and how liberating it is.

And I just wonder about a boy back at home because I wonder if being in love is  wanting to share every moment and reflection compulsively like a drug addict. Because if that’s true, if that is what love is maybe I am in love. And maybe I had to live half way across the world to know that.

That upsets me though because it goes against what I want and why I want to be here because I told everyone, “I will not be in love for a year,” after I broke up with my last boyfriend. Which is challenging during the summer season because even as a younger girl I always dreamt of this grand summer romance and admittedly I have always looked for it. Call it fools lucky but I would say that the past three summers I found it within Matt and then Nic twice and it was just sweeter and more refreshing than any amount of southern sweet iced tea. I was almost sad coming here because I knew this summer I wouldn’t be able to fall in love, like the previous years. And I just wonder tonight as I sit on my front porch if I would have had the courage to open myself up to love if it wasn’t for Maya Angelou. And now that I have, I cannot help but think how amazing it is. And I am hungry to 

keep exploring love no matter how difficult it gets.

Love is almost like traveling the world. There is such innocence about both. When it comes to traveling and love nothing about the two are easy and nothing about them should be easy because if they were easy we would all be doing it. Just like love, love isn’t supposed to be easy because it turns your heart upside down and inside out just to make you feel these butterflies at the pit of your stomach that are the size of King Kong himself. And you begin to discover, just like an archaeologist who has been working tirelessly in the direct sunlight for hours and hours that you have all of these walls and valleys and magnificent trenches within your hear that are all capable of things I could never begin to write about.

If everyone was in love at the same moment, there wouldn’t be war or disagreements. Without the war and disagreements we wouldn’t have any compassion or happiness because it is only when we are in the absence of compassion and happiness that we then appreciate them so much more than when we have it.

I guess tonight I am just in awe of the rifts and waves that Maya Angelou has been able to fold within my heart, my soul, my life. While at the same time be terribly sad that we lost Maya Angelou.

I wonder if it is selfish to ask that she can somehow find me down here on Earth while she is in Heaven so she can continue to shine her light within me and make me strong and courageous in the face of adversity and always open to love.

I think tonight I am just going to sit on my front porch and reflect on the three questions I packed with me from the very beginning of my journey:  What do I want to do? Who do I want to be? How do I want to love?

Cheers to a New Love Affair

Family members, mentors and faculty of Colorado State are looking at this picture and rolling their eyes saying, "Why can't she post more pictures of Cambodia and the real cause? Why does she have to be super American and post pictures of her being able to purchase alcohol?" Now I promise you, I will be posting more pictures of Cambodia and the lovely people that make up my community, but tonight is a very special night.

If nothing else, this post is for me too look back on as a source of encouragement on the days when I miss home a little more than expected.

Settling into Cambodia was more difficult than I would have ever thought. This terrifies me to write down, because once it is written it is permanent and I fear that this reality discredits my ability to be a free spirit or world traveler that many people have confessed to being impressed by. But at the end of the day, I don't mind being one hundred percent honest.

It could have been a mix of things- from rushing to get to Cambodia, literally had two weeks to sublease my apartment, get a plane ticket, take my final exams, pack and say my goodbyes, or it could have been being miserably sick for the first three weeks here, but I woke up every day with the motivation that once these 24 hours were done with, I would be closer to getting home.

Instead of spending my days enjoying myself like I desperately wanted to, I spent my time thinking stories I could email to my boss to get me home sooner and messaged friends on Facebook debating if this is where I belonged. Every single day I woke up, I broke my own heart. While my heart broke, I encouraged myself to bring comforts of home into the mix to help me miss things a bit less. Trying to accomplish this was more frustrating that it should have been. I quickly found that the comforts of home in a third world country were going to cost you, $8 for a jar of peanut butter to be exact and $3 for a cup of coffee that didn't taste like gasoline.

I also noticed that I started allowing myself to set comfort zones (if you know anything about me, you know I don't have a comfort zone what so ever, so this was odd). I spent my first four hours of the day at My Little Cafe with Thom and his family. Then I would go to the same restaurant, Five Sons for dinner. In between I played with neighborhood kids and held my own English lessons for those who wanted it. My days were not extraordinary. I even shied away from writing because I didn't want to look back on my experience and realize that I was so pitiful at the beginning.

Then these past 24 hours happened.

I finally got fed up with my attitude. I talked to a handful of people all expressing that they would kill for my position and hey, I think if roles were reversed I would too! And I started to realize through these conversations I am one very lucky lady. Instead of taking it for granted I needed to put a quick pep in my step immediately.

When I woke up this morning I told myself, "Today is the day you will get lost in Siem Reap. And on purpose." Theory of thought: what better way to feel apart of something larger than yourself than by getting lost? During breakfast this morning, I made a list of five shops and cafes that I wanted to find in Siem Reap as little check points of figuring out my way.

And in the midst of getting lost, I found exactly what I was looking for.

Right across from my point C was a used book store.

I don't think I ever crossed a street so quickly in my entire life. Elated, I was overwhelmed by the books on the shelves even though there were weren't many, probably less than 150. I spent about two hours poking my hand through cobb webs just to read the backs of every single book, even the French books. And in that instant, I knew I was meant to be here.

Happier than I had been since arriving, I made it back to my apartment only to message an old friend of mine on Facebook. I had been thinking of him a lot and I've started to realize I would never be here, chasing this dream of giving my heart to small corners of the world, if it weren't for the people back home. Just like old times, we found ourselves wrapped up in conversation for a few hours.

Feeling excited for carrying around such a happy heart, I ventured out to treat myself to some good ol' Western chain cafe coffee pending no regrets. After bringing my order to me Ouim, played "Boom Shake," by Pitbull and Flo Rida. Immediately I jumped out of my seat and dragged her to our temporary dance floor. She laughed at my absurd dance moves but I refused to slow down.

After our dance session and enjoying my post dinner treat I retreated back to my apartment feeling satisfied and eager to jump into bed with the books I just bought.

On my walk home, it hit me ... none of this is supposed to be easy. If it was easy, everyone would pack up at 20 years old and decide to live in a third world country for a summer. And the best part of that realization is I realized, it is okay that it is challenging and difficult! After all, when have I not loved a good challenge?

Ladies from the massage parlor that I have visited and the waitress from Five Sons all gave me warm hugs as I walked by. Sign number two of the day that this is where I belonged.

Instead of heading home, I changed my route to pick up a bottle of champagne.

As someone once said, things come in threes. In this instance knowing that I was in love.

Walking out of the market with my celebration supplies for all of one guest, myself, it started down pouring on me. I read somewhere once that rain was a sign of new beginnings because it was able to wash away the bad and purify a town.

Sign number three.

Cheers to my new love affair xx

One of the most special people in my life always refers to me as her flower.

"If you love a flower, don't pick it up.
Because if you pick it up it dies and ceases to be what you love.
So if you love a flower, let it be.
Love is not about possession.
Love is about appreciation."

-Osho

How perfect. On a day where I have done a lot of reflection about love and hearts and what it all means in the grand scheme of things this quote appeared.

I want my love to be free.

Realities of Being a Change Agent

Source: Humans of New York

"I went home to my country after I graduated. I thought I was going to be a change agent. Things were so corrupt there, that you had to pay a bribe to even get a driver’s license. I set up community organizations. I thought if people had information, and knowledge, the culture would change. But nothing changed. It’s so hard to build a democracy in a country with no history of democracy. Nobody cared about changing the country. They only wanted to enrich themselves. ‘Everyone has to eat,’ they would say."

I am an avid visitor of the site Humans of New York, I follow them on Facebook, Tumblr and Twitter just to make sure I don't miss the magic. A couple of days ago this picture appeared on all of my feeds and it has been haunting me ever since. I think particularly, this story the man tells us is a fear that we humanitarian optimistic have.

Here in Cambodia I am questioning myself every single day. Am I really making a difference? I believe in the work I do with all of my heart but what is going to happen when I leave in August? 

Almost every day I am reminded to go to different restaurants no more than three times a week, to spread the wealth, not to give beggars money because they will tell the others or because it won't help them once I leave. 

Being reminded that you are only a temporary fix in the larger scheme of things is disheartening. 

I suppose I am questioning when does my heart of being a change agent cross paths with the right resources to make it sustainable?

I'd like to think that my heart is a bit different than others my age. 
And today, I think it is a curse. 

Second Lessons

1. Dollar mojitos are not a challenge. Neither are dollar cosmopolitans or lime daiquiris on Fight Inflation Night.

2. It is impossible to give money to every beggar on the street. Not only that, but some would deem it irresponsible. How will they be better off once you are gone? Don't make temporary promises when it comes to someone's life. That dollar you want to give, is a temporary promise.

3. But that doesn't meant to be stingy either.

4. Always check to make sure someone didn't steal your money before you go to breakfast, or you will have to do dishes.

5. Don't be the asshole who tries to get the pancake street vendor to teach you how to make pancakes, it wastes their resources.

6. Always ask the locals for their names and say good morning to them, even if you can't stop in for coffee.

7. When it comes to ice cream the $1.50 for one scoop won't give you the shits like the .75 cent ice cream does.

Burning Our Safety Net

The 21st day away from home, might have been one of the more impressive ones.

In more than one way my life is quite the paradox. My passion is people and all I want to do is be surrounded by laughter, warm hearts and loved ones. Every now and then I long for not only my solitude but to be able to enjoy it in great abundances. And while I am in the midst of enjoying that great abundance of silence and myself, I find myself frustrated, almost terrified that no one else is around.

Tonight, my housemates left to begin their leg of the job. While it is hard to say goodbye, it appears that is all travel is, I found myself excited to be alone, which is quite different from my original thoughts. When I decided to come to Cambodia, I remember wishing too hard that I will be paired with someone by my side throughout the entire three months. Then again I am a twenty year old, who has only ever been out of the country once, so maybe it isn't entirely an irrational response.

As the week went along, I found myself getting more anxious and excited to be alone.

I guess it was Wednesday night, when I had an more than unpleasant run in with a local here that I realized what I want these next three months to be.

I want these next three months to be about me and I won't allow myself to feel selfish because of that.

The remainder of my time here will be about growth. Growing within myself, growing within a new community, growing as an educator.

It revolve around inspiration and immersing myself in a world that makes me feel so small, that I will feel like I am at home no matter what city I sleep in that night.

The last thing I want is to spend this time with someone else's agenda and plans. More importantly I do not want this summer to be about love. Whether it be about finding it or missing it.

It has only been 21 days and I feel like I have learned more than I would have ever imagined for myself. I have been learning more about what I don't want out of life, instead of solidifying what I do want out of life which at first seemed very daunting, but tonight it seems magical. After all, how lucky am I to be twenty years old, know what my passion is in life but also become aware of what I don't want out of life. People spend their entire lives fucking it up, just so that they can understand one of the two on superficial levels. Not only do I have a beginning realization of these things, but I also have the heart to accept that these things may change along the way.

I would say I am pretty damn lucky.

So maybe it is my feeling of luck that is clouding my judgement and making me naive.

But I am ready to burn this safety net that has so graciously been given to me and start experiencing these next few months for myself.

I want to be twenty and selfish, that way when I am eighty I can love so much better.

Students of Koh Rong

These exact smiles and their tenacious curiosity is the exact inspiration my heart holds to be a teacher. If I could have smiling contest after every assignment check (in this particular case mastering their ABCs), my heart would flood the world with happiness.

The You's and I's

This week consisted of spending time at Koh Kong Island, or Conservation Cambodia. The projects that are happening down there are truly amazing. They are even beginning to get international attention from scientist. Full disclosure I don’t know much about the conservation aspect. I know what they are doing, but I don’t know the logistics. When anything scientific comes to the table I tend to zone out.

What I do know is education. With the major work that has been done in the conservation aspects of the island it has encouraged the presences of education on the island.

While spending time on the island, I kept finding myself having pity for the people on the island.

They wake up.

Sit outside on their front porch.

Go to bed just to do it all over again.

But who am I to judge the quality of a day spent? To be quite frank, I resented myself for my judgmental thoughts. I think it is easier to neglect someone else’s position in the world than to understand it and immerse yourself into their thoughts, their definition of what life ought to be (SYNERGY Day anyone?!).

You realize that this simple island life is all they know.

Just recently did the people on the island begin to sell and trade goods. With the prominent presences of Western volunteers, locals started to realize if they sold candies, soda pop and chips on the island, they would get service, because the closest market was a two hour boat ride away.

Brilliant.

With the international recognition, locals are beginning to marvel in the idea of them being game players in this world. That their small representation that is colored purple, pink, green or yellow depending on what map you buy is worth something – it means something. It means their stories are worth more than they ever imagined before.

How lovely!

I spent the majority of the week on the island observing the English lessons that have been created. Now that the people of Koh Kong know they have a purpose and that they are capable of being a part of Common  

Wealth society there has been a great demand of English language lessons on the island.

At 11AM students around the village gather everyone up and make a quick walk to the two room school, where only one classroom is allocated for use and the other stores some garbage and extra desks. It is an exciting day when the boy students have to go and grab an extra desk or two because that means more students are coming to the lessons!

After an hour of lessons school is over.

The coolest part is the students then congregate on your front porch and you get to spend the rest of the day giggling along with their screeches as they run around.

My personal favorite pass time is playing their version of rock-paper-scissors. Only I thought originally that the scissors represented the number two and the object of the game was to get the highest number … well its not. But it explains all of the pointing and laughing at me.

Then once 8PM rolls around it is time for the adults, usually the parents of the children, to have their English lesson. The best part of this, having the student and the parents share a common experience. The even better part of this, when students come to the adult lessons because they are that eager to learn.

It is probably one of the more inspiring things I have seen in my twenty-so years.

It is quite possible that I have painted this picturesque portrait of an island where English is welcome with open arms and they want to become a huge economic player in the world, but I will admit that is not the entire situation. Like any country who’s main language is not English of course there are going to be people who don’t feel there is an importance for it- and that is fine.

I don’t think that our roles here should be to assimilate cultures into a Westerner box. I think our place lies in encouraging and helping the development of life.

If parents rather their son spend time on the water and not in school, then so be it. I only hope that their son becomes the best damn fisherman of the island so that he can live a healthy, prosperous life.

I think it is our job to foster and enhance the idea that there is a place for every village, every individual in this crazy world.

You and them and I and we. We belong everywhere. 

She Who is Brave is Free

I cannot believe that I have been in Cambodia for a little bit over a week now. It feels like so much longer. It is insane to think I would have been half way through my trip in Africa right now a year and half ago.

Today I have had more down time than any other day thus far and it is quite rejuvenating. It is nice to feel like my feet are molding into the feet that will be carrying me along this journey for the next three months. It took a bit longer for me to get adjusted than I would have imagined but we are getting there. It also doesn't help getting a seasonal cold in a third world country with 4000% humidity.

These six months away from home will be the longest period of time I have been away from my family and friends. That feeling of being misplaced or the feeling of missing out has had a lot to do with the idleness of immersing myself in an entirely new country. It is odd, the feeling of being completely free from not coming home, yet not completely immersed into somewhere else. It is almost as if you could fall off the face of the Earth and it wouldn't even matter because you didn't belong anywhere.

Another reason I think I have had a harder time than expected is that this is not Africa. With that said, I could never draw a conclusion of which one is better or which one is more important. The truth of the matter is they both are key elements into the stitching of my heart. Ever since I was a little girl, though, Africa has always been my cause and purpose. When I went there a year and half ago, a girl named Zola became the portrait of that. In a weird way I felt as if I was doing a disservice to Africa and Zola. I felt guilty for being here in Cambodia and not in South Africa. I've said it may times before, Cambodia was never on my radar of places to live, visit maybe, but it was never urgent and so that has thrown me for a different loop. But isn't that what life is all about after all? Being able to experience something that wasn't on your radar. I wonder just how boring my life would be if I only received the things or experiences on my radar. (I sure as hell would not be having the worst dating stories over cocktails that is for sure!)

So it has taken a little bit of time to get use to Cambodia but we sure are making just fine company to one another.

Being the youngest person of the group is difficult.
Being the only person who has never been to South East Asia is difficult.
Being someone who hates rice and is living in Asia is difficult.

But we will make it along just fine.

“Wherever you are, however you got there, if it’s good, you’re meant to be there either because you earned it or life led you there and you were smart enough to hold on.” 

— Kristen Ashley

The Future will be Made of Stone

I could never down play the importance and significance of Cambodian history. Yesterday, I was curious to know if Cambodia and I were the same. Hell, I am any third world country. If we are all third world countries on the inside.

 Admittedly, I do not know much about the history of this lively country. I do know that there has been pain and corruption from influence. There has been war. And there has been a time of rebuilding.

Throughout these past twenty years there has been pain and corruption from influence - wrong friends, wrong boys and wrong message. There has been war - within myself and among others. And there has been time for rebuilding. This is the time for rebuilding.

Yesterday, I took a tour of Angkor Wat. By far one of the most moving and influential places I have ever experienced. I was mesmerized by the pride that Angkor Wat held for so many Khmer people. Angkor Wat is a symbol of many things I have discovered: strength, prosperity and more importantly hope.

Strength because for thousands of years it has remained. Through all of the storms, weather related and political storms it has remained. Through the hatred and the lack of understanding among people it hardly withered. Through adversity it remained.

Prosperity that is seen through the rich history of it. With the kings and high priests, although that was a thousand years ago, I still felt very honored to be able to walk the same entry ways.

Lastly, there is hope. They say for nearly twenty years Ankgor Wat was abandoned because of a drought. However, the monks remained the Ankgor Wat temple to care for it and look after it, which is why it is the most preserved temple of them all. There was hope among the ruins, there was hope among the lack of life.

And I find this idea of Angkor Wat and the stories about it to be especially special. How magnificent was it that I visited it on May 7th, the day of the anniversary. As I walked through I kept saying to myself, "Your heart is meant to see this. It is not in ruins."

I once heard Beau Taplin say, "One day, whether you are 14, 28 or 65 you will stumble upon someone who will start a fire in you that cannot die. However, the saddest, most awful truth you will ever come to find is they are not always with whom we spend the our lives." It is okay that we never meant for it to be this way. Just like the drought. Just like the monks. But it is this way. So you hold onto hope and prosper on the strength that you already have within you.

Baby, the future will be made of stone, but our hearts should not be.

First Lessons

I've been here in Cambodia for two days and this is what I have learned so far:

1. It is okay to spend the first night alone in a city that you were never meant to be in. It will give you time to rest, to collect your thoughts and to be more thankful for friendly faces.

2. Two out of three hitchhiking experiences are going to work out just fine. So if you're still in good shape after the second, walk the rest of the way.

3. On that note: It is okay to have an moment of fear when getting into a car with a stranger. Just don't be an asshole and realize that people, just like you, want to do good in the world. Even if it is by the smallest measure. Make small talk.

4. If you want electronics charged, electrocution comes with the price (and no wiping your feet to make sure they are dry does not help).

5. Drink more water than you can stomach. I cannot reiterate this enough.

6. You're going to miss home more than you originally thought and that is okay too.

Airports: The Art of Lack of Coffee and Sleep

I will be the first to admit, these first two days of travel have been very damaging on one’s gypsy spirit.

On many occasions I have determined that airports are my favorite places in the world. No specific one of any sorts, but all of them. The hope, the longing, the sense of adventure. The hellos and goodbyes. The tearful I love you. The coming home and the welcoming of a new chapter in your life. There is so much to be in awe of at the airports. There are many moments of opportunity to get yourself swept away in.

Questionably these past 48 hours have been a test of just how much I loved airports.

My flight scheduled was Denver – LAX – Hong Kong – Siem Reap.

Earlier in the day on Friday, I made the comment to someone about how it had been the nicest day of the week now that the wind had calmed down. As luck would have it, my plane wouldn’t leave until four hours past schedule because of wind.

Although the flight to LAX wasn’t large to begin with it quickly shrunk down to just four passengers:

Myself.

A British (which this detail is important because I felt like I was part of Chronicles of Narnia the entire time I hung out with him because of his accent) adolescent boy.

And a mother-daughter duo from Australia.

During four hours we talked about all things Australia and Michelle ‘s daughter and son-in-law that they came to visit. I found the company of them to be quite lovely and reassuring. You see, when I was in South Africa I was part of a team of ten girls, all in which were from Australia except for it. Whereas I believe Africa was the starting point in all of this, I took it as a good sign that these women too were from Australia. I felt a bit more relaxed at the idea that I was where I was meant to be.

I also occupied myself by playing a game of hot lava monster around the gate area and practicing my British accent. Oh how boys can be so imaginative. The eight year old heart that I foster was quite happy at some down time to just play around and get lectured at.

At twenty years old, there is something about getting yelled at for jumping around on chairs to avoid an invisible monster that makes me quite giddy.

About twenty hours later, I found myself boarding my last plane in order to reach Siem Reap, Cambodia. As I began to get comfortable I was approached by several flight attendants. They needed to see my passport and wanted to confirm I had 50 USD on me. Unfortunately, I did not have 50 USD on me, I only had the 30 it required for a on site visa when I landed. As a result of this, I was kicked off of the plane.

In that moment I had felt as if I were on a plot twist version of the Amazing Race.

I was asked to remove myself from the plane. I was unable to pull cash out. I couldn’t make a phone call either. About an hour after the incident all they could tell me was that I would arrive in Cambodia on May 6^th.

I quickly learned that batting eye lashes, smiling and making yourself cry does not get you far in the rest of 

the world as it does the United States.

When facing adversity I try my very hardest to keep an optimistic outlook on the situation, such as, what can I learn from this right now? If I am being honest though, it often reverts to me becoming more inward. I become less trusting with myself, my instincts and others. What made me the most uneasy was how quickly I wanted to curl up into a ball and hide under my blankets at home; how quickly defeat came.

After several hours of talking to different supervisors and being interviewed about being wrongfully kicked off the plane, the situation was taken care of and I didn’t have to spend two days in the Hong Kong airport like originally thought.

These traveling events reminded me of a couple of different things:

First, embrace the language barrier. Sure I am here to help better the education of English in Cambodia, but that doesn’t mean that other languages are less valuable. Each language has a unique story because each person who speaks that language is the author of those stories. Embrace the language barrier and you will learn to: be more patient, learn to take more time with people, understand that sometimes it is no one’s fault, it is all a big misunderstanding.

Secondly, don’t take it out on the person when it is a computer glitch. Just like it would be if the roles were reverse, you can’t do anything when the system fails just like he can’t.

Third, you don’t have to know a single soul in the country or city and someone will still be determined to help you. That is what makes this world so beautiful.

I am currently staying at a hotel in a different city than my final destination. Considering the fact I haven’t seen a bed in three days is a clear indication that a 7PM bedtime is not the result of jet lag but is completely appropriate.

I can’t believe that after 52+ hours, I am here in Cambodia!

Packing Light

April 29th what a beautiful ring it has to it.

Early this week I had a sleepover with a girl friend and we laughed at the idea that I was planning on getting married in a year. She told me, "I am so glad you aren't getting married."

A year ago I was eager to marry this boy.
A year from today, I was eager to walk down the isle.

Oh how time is funny.

Here I am. A twenty-something embarking on this new chapter in my life. A year ago if you told me that I would be moving to Cambodia for several months I would have laughed with an ache in my heart longing for the opportunity but never believing it would actually happen.

I think it was Frank O'Hara who said, "Each time my heart is broken it makes me feel more adventurous." I guess the only way I know how to mend my heart is by taking all of the broken pieces and giving them away to different parts of the world. Maybe it is because I am optimistic that they will make light of those fragmented pieces. I know I sure as hell want to, but I don't know how to do it myself.

As I prepare colour coded lists of things to duffle bag, things going into my backpack and the last minute things to buy I keep whispering to myself, "Pack light. Just breathe and pack light."

It isn't even the comforts of home that I am so desperate to bring with me. Its all of the heavy stuff-

My broken heart and how I should claim this to be my moment of freedom before settling down. Only, this heart break only brings me back to my first heart break at seventeen years old.

That heart break is accompanied with the fact that at times I can be a really shitty daughter, friend and sister.

And that comes with the package deal of wondering if I am selfish for leaving.

I use to always romanticize the possibility leaving.

When I came home from South Africa in January of 2013, I always told myself given the opportunity to leave again I would take it with no question and no opinions from others. I'm convinced I was meant to chase the sun without apologies.

But leaving, I am starting to realize is not as easy of a process as I always hoped it would be.

As I considered leaving, I asked loved ones if they would forgive me for missing out on this and that. All along, I should have been asking myself, would forgive myself for all of the monumental moments I would be missing? Then my next question would be, if I allowed myself to be so paralyzed in being scared that I would miss out, how would my heart ever grow to appreciate the moments I am apart of and appreciate my loved ones more?

Leaving isn't as easy as I would imagined it.
Packing isn't as easy as I would imagined it.

Tonight it feels as if a lot is weighing me down.

But for one to travel far, one must pack light.