As Emily put it, I went all Elizabeth Gilbert (author of Eat, Pray, Love) on everyone this weekend and attended a silent retreat. Of course my day of silence with the Roman Catholics in Kompong Som hardly compares to the intensity of four months in an Indian ashram, but it was a small dose of spiritual meditation that I needed to keep myself from going insane with the frustrations that build up each day in Phnom Penh.

I probably went into the weekend with too high of hopes. I've constantly fretted for nearly two years now about what to do with my post-college life and I thought that maybe this would be the weekend of my enlightenment.

No such luck.

The weekend wasn't a total loss, though. As I said, I went into the weekend with surmounting frustrations - not just about the future of my life but about my purpose in Cambodia. Not attached to a powerful NGO making strides in helping the country develop, at times I feel like I'm here wasting space, responding to the nonsensical whims of the university president.

So on the day of silence - Saturday - I spent most of my time turning the thoughts in my head over and over. I wouldn't go so far as to say the silence was deafening or maddening, as some might exaggerate, but I definitely couldn't find the relaxation or easiness in it. My insides felt chaotic and my nerves were wracked (most likely a bi-product of they way I've felt for the past couple months). I've never been one to live in the moment, and the stillness only allowed my brain to bounce more easily back and forth between the past and the future and dwell on the bitterness that's grown in me while in Cambodia.

Finally, Saturday evening I had a breakthrough. Father Charlie, who led the sessions, asked us to reflect on how we react to suffering - our own and those around us. That's when it came to me. I realized that I'm growing increasingly frustrated, that frustration turning into bitterness, because I tend to react to suffering by becoming reclusive. I see the suffering of those around me and because I can't do anything about it and don't want to make a scene by being emotional about it, keep my thoughts and feelings to myself. That causes me to suffer, and again, I repress those feelings because I have it so much better than those around me, why should I complain?

I feel that's when I realized my purpose in Cambodia. Yes, I want to impact the people around me and "make a difference" here, and in a small way I am by interacting with people at the university and working with the kids from the dump. But given my capacity, coming here alone and working for a government official, I'm not going to do a whole lot. However, I am learning a lot. I'm gaining a hands-on awareness of the world's injustices and acquiring a realization of what steps I need to take to one day effectively affect change.

I'm here to learn. It's a difficult purpose given that I like to see things get done. That's about as far as I got this weekend. I could have used another day of silence - maybe several - but perhaps the opportunity will arise at another time.

Praying or Preying?

I just walked into my office and was startled by this huge praying mantis sitting in the middle of my floor. (Of course, in an effort to not carry many valuables on me due to the recent string of muggings in my area, I don't have my camera.) I must admit, I'm rather frightened. While they don't pose a danger to humans, these buggies, according to the good ol' Wikipedia, have been known to eat rats, toads and snakes. A known cannibal and member of the cockroach and termite families, perhaps my fear is due.

Wiki, however, doesn't seem to note any species reside in Asia. Perhaps this is a sign from God. (Dum, dum, dum - dramatic foreshadowing sound.) According to this animal symbolism site, the praying mantis represents and need for peace in our lives. It also says that the mantis doesn't make a move unless it's completely sure it knows what it's doing. And this little beast is making it's way up my desk leg.

I was just thinking earlier today, that my reality in six months is that whatever I choose to do after Cambodia could potentially dictate the direction for the rest of my life. For once, I didn't come to this realization in a moment of panic - I do, after all, have six months to determine my course of action. But I'm at the point in my post-college, pre-reality life where I am ready to commit to something, whatever it might be. So maybe this praying mantis is a sign from God to choose my path wisely.

Or perhaps, I look at things too deeply and there is just an insect climbing my desk leg.

I like to think the former.

On Discrimination

One would never think that a white girl from suburban Ohio would understand what it means to be discriminated against, but today I got a taste of just how crummy it feels. Up to this point, I've had to deal with the typical "men are treated this way" and "women are treated that way" nonsense -- frustrating but not too difficult to manage. Today, though, I wasn't allowed to walk into a hospital because I'm white.

I was going with Bandol and Boley to visit Boley's cousin who is in the hospital because he's having a special operation done on his thyroid. About three years ago his body started degenerating and no one knew why. He grew up perfectly healthy, then around the age of 14, his bones started growing in different directions. Now every joint in his body -- arms, legs and even ribs -- are messed up, forcing him to walk with crutches. The hospital that we were visiting him at has linked the problem to his thyroid, so we were going to see him before his surgery tomorrow.

Well, as we were walking into the hospital, I was stopped and told I'd have to wait outside. So I sat on a stoop in the heat while the guys went in. It turns out, the hospital is bitter toward white people because instead of providing the hospital with funding, the white people criticize the quality of its services. So they keep all the white people out -- what a great way to build a reputation...

So I guess I need to start laying out in the sun more and perhaps invest in a dark wig. Tanning and faux locks -- the all access pass to Cambodia.

On Power

I find it funny that the topic of power keeps manifesting itself in one way or another lately.

There are definitely power struggles within Cambodia. On the governmental level, there are top officials who don’t deserve their positions, whether because of nepotism, bribes or a lack of education. On the societal level, there’s the struggle between the rich and the poor, between the educated and the non-educated, between men and women.

This week, I attended a multi-national discussion on women in leadership when the discussion head, an Australian, raised the question, “Do women need to be more authoritative in order to be heard?” She prefaced the thought with the notion that women’s thoughts often aren’t taken seriously because either their physical voice is quieter than a man’s or they tend to put things in more gentle terms.

One participant, a Filipino woman who works with a human trafficking NGO, pointed out that depending on who she is talking to, she exerts various levels of, what would be considered in this context, “authority.” For example, if talking to a western man, she is more direct and to the point, but if talking to an Asian person, she tends to be gentler.

Being a western woman in Cambodia has given me an interesting perspective on this topic. While in the states, I had not reached the point where I felt I was discriminated against because of my gender. Yes, I’ve had to fight some generalizations, “Because you are a girl you like to do X” type of things, but for the most part I’ve never felt my authority or opinions weren’t taken seriously.

Now that I’m in a country where sometimes women are considered second-class citizens, the adjustment of how I must act around people has been interesting. At this point, I still feel like I have a valued opinion, though I’ve had to alter how I approach things. Some people I work closely with are the IT staff (all men, go figure). In general, you have to be pretty persistent with them, but I think I had to be more so. Then they figured out I -- the young girl downstairs -- knew a thing or two about computers (I can talk Photoshop and fake my way through web page design). At that point, some sort of barrier dropped between us.

Because I have this sort of power, so to speak, as a western woman in Cambodia, it’s weird how my general perspective has changed a little bit. A role of power definitely comes with a greater sense of responsibility and has forced me to question my values. What sort of image should I create for myself? When and how do I ask for help versus taking a strong lead despite not knowing all the answers? And the ultimate, yet vague, question: What am I trying to achieve?

I’ve never really closely examined the results of my taking on greater responsibilities so quickly. I think in our western background, the responsibilities we gain come to us gradually. We work on one level, which prepares us to move to the next level. But now I’ve been kind of thrown into the water, and it’s like trying to gain footing despite a heavy current trying to drag you along. I almost wish I didn’t have so much control, and as a result, I feel like I’ve been shy in approaching some things I’ve been asked to do but don’t necessarily understand.

This question of voice, however, can be applied to all “marginalized” people. Like women, I think the underdogs in this country -- the people who are justly trying to add to Cambodia’s development -- might face the challenges of gaining respect as leaders. They question their own values: When is it ok to be punished (i.e. sent to jail) for standing up for your beliefs and when do you look the other way? To what extent do you use the resources of the corrupt people in power without you yourself being corrupt?

It all comes back to, what does it take to be heard? Whether you’re a man, woman, westerner, easterner, rich, poor, educated or not, my response to the question would be that as a leader, there’s no clearly defined way to exert authority.

Like the Filipino woman from the discussion, I myself have found that with some people, if I don’t make a clear, direct request for something, I don’t see results. That frankness with another person might immediately turn them against me, so therefore I need to take a softer approach. It’s a dance – if you step too far to once side or the other, you’ve completely lost your case.

As an outsider here, I’ve seen how things are done differently. People back home think there’s a right way and a wrong way to do business, but I’ve moved to another location where you have a whole new set of people that have a whole new set of rights and wrongs. It’s frustrating, sometimes, to deal with those cultural discrepancies. But the truth is, both communities work and both are flawed.

I’m working for a program in which the main goal is to spread ideas of various leadership styles, and I can think of no better way to learn about myself and leadership in general than doing exactly what I’m doing right now– fumbling my way through a country and culture completely foreign to me.

Phase II

I went grocery shopping with Chris and Manette this weekend, and Chris was wondering how I was coming along in figuring out layout of the city. He asked me, "You know the point when your surroundings don't look the same way as when you first arrived?"

When he said that I laughed because I knew exactly what he meant. It's something I always think about. I look at my location as I see it in the present moment and then I try to imagine how I saw things when I first arrived. When comparing the two, it's funny to see how our perspectives of our environments change.

Before Chris even mentioned it, I was thinking about how things in Phnom Penh seem to be falling into place. If I walk down Norodom Blvd. toward Wat Phnom and take a left down a side street I'll find myself at Central Market. Keep going past Wat Phnom and take a right and I'll run into the river. Just a few blocks down the riverfront and I'm in the art district. If I take Sihonouk Blvd. toward Lucky Market and veer left into the side streets, I'll find myself in NGO-land, a district riddled with expats and do-good organizations.

Although I still don't trust myself to go too far without a map in hand, my landmark recognition is beginning to kick in and I feel more comfortable in my surroundings. The city no longer looks like a bunch of buildings that all resemble each other, covered in a language I don't understand, filled with people who all look the same. I'm beginning to see the detailed features of the city.

It's like my child eyes have been taken away and now I can see things as they are. Just 4 weeks ago, everything was new. Everything was something to be explored -- whether it be a street vendor, a marketplace, a moto ride or a tourist site. Now I've got my own Cambodian routine -- a regular lunch spot, pilates and yoga classes, weekend plans. Of course, I always like trying out a new restaurant or strolling down a street I haven't yet explored, but now I don't feel the need to write home about each and every new experience.

It makes me a little sad, no longer experiencing the giddiness that accompanies being somewhere out of my element, but now I have the chance to really dig into the culture here and find out what makes it tick.

I know I'm only here for four months and will never truly grasp the way Cambodians live, but I can still plunge below surface-level observances. To look not at what makes my culture and their culture different, but instead at what unites us -- what makes us all human -- is something I couldn't do in a two-week vacation. I can remind myself of that when I do feel a tinge of melancholy brought on by life feeling just like life instead of some great adventure. How many people get the chance to "step into someone else's shoes," per say, without merely reading about it in a book or a newspaper?

So I guess you can say I'm entering Phase II of my Cambodian experience. I hope I will still feel a little giddiness as I continue to try new things, but at the same time I hope I can digest the realities that the people here face.