The Hardest Thing...

This blog is about my travels. About what it's like for me to live and travel in new countries far away from my home. Until now, I've basically written about what surrounds me, and how those surroundings affect me.

But, there's a whole other aspect of traveling and living abroad that I haven't even touched on. And it's far and away the hardest thing about traveling. It's a million times more difficult than beating the sweltering heat in Phnom Penh, it's more difficult than language barriers in Korea, more difficult than 20 hour bus rides in India, living out of a van for four months in New Zealand, and far more difficult than dragging my ass up a 5000 meter mountain pass in Nepal. The absolute hardest thing about traveling is:  being away from those you love. Especially being FAR away. So far that when something happens, something that tears apart the heart of someone you love madly... you have to live with knowing that you can't be there to help.

For those who don't want to read a blog that's going to stop being fun for awhile, and dig deeper into some harsh realities instead... stop now. It was never my intention to write about anything personal here, but I can not pretend that traveling is only about amazing adventures, new cultures, and everlasting memories. Because while I'm on the other side of the planet collecting those memories, back home where my family and so many friends reside, life keeps happening there too. Memories keep being made there, memories that I'm not a part of. And it's not just the tragedies that make me yearn to be closer. There's promotions, birthdays, weddings, births, graduations, and all the other little celebrations, achievements and turning points in life. I miss practically all of them. I can only celebrate with my family and friends in the most important moments of their lives, over Skype. On top of that, there's the hard stuff. Like two months ago, with the passing away of a grandparent, my Grandma Hamm. Even if I'd decided to spend the $1500+ that it would have cost to fly home on short notice, I still wouldn't have made it back in time for the funeral. Cause I'm that far away.

Then this week happens, and it rocks the very core of my being. Last Saturday night, I spent over an hour catching up with my family. Both of my sisters were at home in Kenosha, and my little niece Mckailynn was still awake way past her bedtime. My mom and Stepdad were there, and Mckailynn's father Steve even popped in for a bit while we were all on Skype. I got off the phone thinking I was practically as good as home. That night, Steve tucked Mckailynn into bed, and rubbed my sister' sore back before he left. All was well. But by the next morning, everything had changed forever. By the next morning, my littlest sister's reality had been sliced into bits. Around 2am Steve got into a motorcyle accident, and she had spent dawn's hours holding Steve's hand in a hospital bed, until his injuries overtook him and he died. Her five year roller coaster relationship with the one man that she'd given her whole heart to, was stamped out in the blink of an eye. To see my baby sister uncontrollably sobbing, unimaginably grieving over such a shocking and horrific loss... and to not even be able to offer her a HUG? Is this really the situation I've chosen to put myself in?

While my whole family is struggling to cope with this unbelievable tragedy, I move about the streets of Phnom Penh, blurry eyed and watching the still unfamiliar sights of this world that's so removed from the one that I come from... and I can't help but wonder about the choices I've made. What am I doing here? Why aren't I there? Why is my home a million miles away instead of just around the corner? Why can't I just be that person who settles down in a nice home in the Midwest, finds contentment in her life there, and is always nearby when something important happens?

A nagging voice inside of me thinks it has the answer. I've been cursing this voice all week, cursing the nuggets of truth it contains, but still it continues...

Yes, I'd love nothing more than to be present for every single one of life's joys and sorrows that the people I love go through... but what would happen the vast majority of the time, when no landmark moments are happening? When everyone is just going about living their life, finding their way and creating their happiness? My way, and my happiness have been inextricably linked with travel and new adventures for so long. When distant shores start calling me, and the global life that's shown me neverending possibilities and given me a constant well of personal fulfillment whispers in my ear... how would I justify my choice to turn away from all of that?

I want my cake, and I want to eat it too. I know that I can't simply abandon the life that I want for myself, in order to be present whenever something big happens in other people's lives. For that reason, even when it's a struggle, I continue to make my peace with missing out on so many of those moments. But this time... there is no peace. Not being able to be home right now is killing me. It's just, quite simply, not right. There has to be a middle ground. And I am determined to find it...

i love you little sis...

Couch + Surfing =

As my time in Phnom Penh winds down (5 days and counting), I find myself thinking about all the reasons why I've loved spending the last few months in this one of a kind city. A vast list begins to pile up, that I will hopefully be able to focus on in another blog. But, for now, I just want to talk about one. Diving into this particular adventure had been lurking at the back of mind for quite some time, but when I finally did, the results were even more incredible than I'd imagined.

You've most likely relaxed on a couch before. Perhaps you've had dinner on a couch. I'm sure you've been involved in lifting a couch at least once. Probably, you've cleaned your couch. No doubt you've slept on a couch. Maybe you've even jumped on a couch. But have you ever surfed a couch??? For myself, I'd only had two personal experiences with this verb being applied to living room furniture. Once I surfed another's couch in Korea, and once my own couch was surfed. I had merely dabbled in the vast world of couch surfing. Finally, here in Phnom Penh, circumstances aligned. We had a welcoming home, boasting a great location, in a city that attracts hoards of backpackers, and we had a whole extra bedroom. Shortly after our bags were unpacked, I updated my dusty couchsurfing profile and tried to make it sparkle. Happily, it didn't take long for the couch requests to start flooding in.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with couchsurfing, let me explain. It's a global network of travelers who create profiles and connect with other traveler type folks. These connections are often made in the form of a traveling person requesting to sleep on the 'couch' of a currently stationary person. It's basically a "Hey, how's it going. Nice to meet you. Here let me help you with your bag. Great, well this is your bed in my house for the next few days. Here's an extra set of keys. Let me tell about this place that I live in..." kinda thing. As well as so much more. Millions of people have hosted or surfed with perfect strangers in faraway lands, and the experiences have been overwhelmingly positive. Kinda cool, huh?

My own interest in couchsurfing arose out of a desire to share with others some of the random and amazing hospitality that I've received over my years on the road. Growing up in the states, I have to admit I hadn't really experienced that sort of blanket generosity, and such unquestionable trust and open friendliness truly humbled me and left me in awe. I wanted to share in that beautiful simplicity of people being good and helpful to other people, even though they were strangers, and without asking for anything in return.

Abraham and Ilana

It was on a random day back in May, that a stranger named Brandon arrived at our door, after pre-arranging his stay. Awkwardly, our rookie hosting skills welcomed him in and showed him around. It didn't take long before we were sitting in our living room together, avidly listening while he told his fascinating story of being arrested in Laos for smoking weed. A week later, Asha entered our apartment with her brother Ken, and with her contagiously bright smile and vivacious spirit. An atypical young Korean woman, who feels more at home in the mountains of India than on the shopping streets of Seoul, one couldn't help but be infected by her enthusiasm for life. The next week it was Shannon and Ben who graced our doorstep. He told fascinating stories of being an army lawyer in Seoul, while she recounted a truly hilarious tale of partaking in an actual shake weight competition in Yeoido. Abraham and Ilana fed our curiosities about their African homes, and proved to be genuinely great people to kick back and swap ridiculous and profound travel stories with. Gavin moved in for a few days straight after that, jumping right into the story of how he'd fallen in love with a girl from Indonesia, almost married her, and the heartbreak that followed. Another week passed, and then it was Massimiliano's turn to crash in our spare room, while he pumped us full of so much information on traveling & living in South/Cental America we might just be experts now! Not to mention that divine Italian meal he made for us as well. Sasti and her friend Sofie only passed through briefly, but she made quite an impression when she helped us mop up the aftereffects of our washing machine flooding our whole apartment! Last but definitely not least, Craig and Amy stayed with us for the better part of a week, filling our rooms with their good vibes and easy smiles.

Craig and Amy

Though nothing is asked in return, we have unexpectedly received a mountain of rewards, (as seems to be the case with so many things when they are freely given). Dave and I have hardly left the city limits of Phnom Penh over the last 10 weeks, but 5 different continents have come to us. Over a dozen people from 9 separate countries have passed through our spare bedroom. It has been a truly incredible way of keeping my lust for travel alive, while also enjoying the comforts of a stationary home. Every new person that walks in with a big smile on their face, brings with them fascinating stories, unique experiences, fresh perspectives, and a healthily adventurous spirit. What an amazing gift to have that energy constantly walking into your house! It's inspiring, and it keeps both Dave and I on our toes, ensuring that we never fall into any kind of hum-drum-every-day-is-the-same routine.

Thank you to the friendly, inspiring, hilarious, interesting, helpful, energetic, informative, open-minded, creative and positive couch surfers who have given us the privilege of hosting them for a wee while in our humble home:

• Brandon, from the USA.
• Asha and her brother Ken, from South Korea.
• Shannon and Ben, US expats living in S. Korea
• Abraham and Ilana, from South Africa and Namibia
• Gavin, from Ireland
• Massimiliano, from Italy
• Sasti and Sofie, from Indonesia
• Craig and Amy, from New Zealand and the UK 

Time to go do some surfing of our own now!

♫ Here's a story, of a man named Ed ♫

A few days ago I finished my last private English lesson here in Phnom Penh. It was actually sad saying goodbye to Tainglim and Rosa, whom I've been tutoring for the past six weeks.

I came by the position in a somewhat strange manner. After responding to a forum post, seeking an English tutor, I was contacted by an immigrations lawyer here in Phnom Penh named Wayne. He had a client that was engaged to a Khmer woman... she couldn't speak much English, and he spoke no Khmer. Could I teach her some English, Wayne wanted to know. Red flags immediately went up. An American man wants to marry a Khmer woman, although they can hardly speak to each other? Hmmm. In this part of the world such a recipe usually calls for an aging man who is for some reason(s) unappealing to western ladies, and a pretty little young SE Asian woman who is most likely quite poor, with visions of American glitz and glamour in her eyes.

Now, I happen to believe that everyone is entitled to their own little slice of happiness, whatever that slice might look like, so long as it doesn't infringe upon someone else's right to a slice. But, I also gotta be honest... partnerships like those have usually left me feeling a bit skeevy.

Feeling hesitant about helping to usher along such a union, I tepidly agreed to a meeting, and hoped that I could better asses the situation face to face. Here's the cast of characters at that meeting:

• Wayne: The lawyer. An American who's been living in Cambodia for over 10 years. Mid-forties, stocky, tan, with sandy blonde hair, and a booming lawyer voice that rarely stopped expounding overly self-assured statements. (Please, tell me more about how I should teach English.)

• Ed: The Groom. An older American man, whose motives were under surveilance. Early fifties, thinning dark brown hair, and a tall build. His voice was friendly and his smile was genuine. (Noted.)

• Tainglim: The Bride.  A Khmer woman, looking to be in her mid to late thirties. Dark hair tied back, timidly smiling eyes, and the typical small build of these parts, clothed in a polished and classy white blouse/black skirt combo.

• Yours truly: The Teacher. Balancing an act of trying to sell myself to potential employers, whilst sussing out the intentions of such employers.

• A Khmer assistant of Wayne's whose name I didn't catch, serving as the translator for Tainglim.

As the meeting progressed, I learned this couple's story. Ed was previously married, for over 30 years, when tragedy struck. His wife suffered a brain aneurism, and unexpectedly died. Suddenly single and at a loss as to how to be alone, he struggled without a partner. Much to his surprise, the woman who cut his hair offered an idea. "You should meet my cousin. She live Cambodia. Very sad because of no husband" she stated. With little more than that Ed and Tainglim were introduced over Skype, while the hairdresser translated. As their interest grew, he tried to learn Khmer, but due to an injury in his brain a few years back, retaining new language was nearly impossible for him. She avidly studied to improve her English. Within a few months, this man who'd barely set foot out of the US before, was on a plane to Cambodia. Tainglim was still living in a rural province at the time, in her family's home, (a place that I can only imagine redefined 'rustic' to Ed's unworldly eyes). He stayed in Cambodia for two months, went back to the states, and when I met him he was into his second month of his second visit here, eagerly working towards his goal of bringing Tainglim and her 10 year old daughter back to California with him.

At the meeting, the two of them sat before me, smiling and convincingly affectionate. Was it a show? Did they love each other? Or, was it simply a mutually beneficial arrangement... wherein he would receive an affectionate partner to grow old with, and she would receive a new life full of adventure as well as a plethora of opportunities for her bright young daughter? The more I watched them, trying to figure out my own thoughts, the more I realized it didn't really matter. Based on my instincts, there seemed to be absolutely nothing untoward going on. Beyond that, it dawned on me that it simply wasn't my place to judge whatever the foundation of their relationship might be.

Terms were set for the lessons I'd be giving, and the meeting was adjourned. Over the next few weeks I taught Tainglim and Rosa simultaneously, while Ed actively watched and helped wherever possible. Tainglim's English was painfully low, and Rosa's wasn't much better. Pretty much all communication was a major struggle in the first few lessons, but eventually we found our stride.

Ed left to go back to the states again two weeks ago. Tainglim seemed quite sad that he'd left, and they talked over the phone 4-5 times a day. (Several times he called during our lessons.) They both know that the statistical chances for her American Visa being approved are about 50%... at best. Photographs were taken during some of our lessons, every agreement was documented, and I was asked to write a letter declaring my experience of knowing them. All these will be submitted to the Embassy along with a mountain of other 'proof' that they're in a committed relationship. She is desperately trying to learn English at breakneck speed (in addition to her lessons with me she is also attending an English class here about 20 hours a week). All so that when she is called upon to interview at the Embassy, they won't question her union with Ed based on a lack of communication abilities.

Most likely, the higher ups that work for the powers that be at the American Embassy... will find reasons to question Ed and Tainglim's relationship. With their magic red stamp, they wield a mighty power: complete control over the lives of these three people, permanently and irrevocably.

Given a cursory glance, their story is quite similar to many others in this region. More and more, Asian women are being sought out as a 'sure thing' for Western men looking for a partner. Are there negative repercussions to this trend? Absolutely. Daughters are being separated from their mothers and their entire culture, which no doubt has a lasting impact. Additionally, Cambodian bachelors are unfairly forced to compete with Western men offering the sun and stars. But, hey, since when is all fair in love and war? To me, when you look at one of these stories up close and personal, it's painfully obvious how human and understandable their wants and needs are. It's funny how relationships like these are often referred to as a 'marriage of convenience'. From first hand knowledge, let me tell you, there is nothing convenient about the process that Tainglim and Ed are going through.

Personally, I'd like to wish a heartfelt 'good luck' to Ed, Tainglim, and Rosa... no doubt you're going to need it in order to claim your slice of the happiness pie.