April 27

Yesterday, I met a man named John who works for the Union in Singapore, but was visiting and doing some LE (literature evangelism) work in Phnom Penh. He invited me to go to a place that would: “Change my life,” was his only explanation. As I got into his van, with 100 sacs of food in the trunk, we drove out to the garbage dumps. The air was rank and pungent, everything smelled like rotting feces. Endless fields were covered in garbage, and children came down the hills to greet us, many without shoes or clothes. An entire community lived upon these heaps of trash. They gathered underneath a tin shade, as we handed out bags of rice and noodles. John touched the hand of an old woman, blackened with filth, and the villagers who saw seemed taken aback, shocked that any healthy white man would have such humility as to touch her in a way that was warm or affectionate. Flies rested on people’s faces, and nobody bothered to swat them away. I remained quiet on the ride home, just thinking, “When was the last time any of these people had a proper bath, a proper meal, a proper pair of shoes?” And I realized, I am here to experience moments like these, where I am horrified, humiliated, ashamed, enraged. Where contempt is poured on all of my pride, withering away like broken flowers. “You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule.” Matthew 5:3 (The Message)

at an exhibit of contemporary japanese art - uh, we didn't really get it

April 20

Trina Yeo is ridiculous, crass, and self-indulgent. And because her gluttony is never-ending, she is excited for her birthday coming up in a little over a month, and has lots of things she wants people to buy for her!

She wants, she wants....
click the link for a closer look

1. a fish eye lomographic camera

2. 4-shot action lomo

3. blood:water mission hope t-shirt by jedidiah

4. eco-friendly graphic canvas tote

5. the doodle diary

6. friends with microphones - lifewater benefit cd comp.

7. red pleated trapeze jacket

8. "Fully Empowered" Pablo Neruda

9. your company, your friendship, your prayers, your love

April 18

Singapore is a nearly flawless city.
It's spotless. It's safe. It's almost surreal.
I've been here already, 2 times before, and every time it astounds me.

I arrived Thursday afternoon, and everyone was at work or school or daycare. Rankin picked me up, we got chicken rice and tea, and then before going back to work, dropped me off at the Singapore Art Museum, which was having a special exhibit on Feng Zhengjie. His quotes painted on the walls:"Things don't cease to exist because they are hidden. When I color human behavior with pretty exteriors, the tension between the underlying and the exterior becomes heightened." I took notes because I liked so many pieces. The art was mainly the work of southeast asians, like Semsar Siahann from Indonesia, Ibrahim Hussein (Malaysia), and Nirmala Dutt Shanmughalingam (also Malay), to name a few of my favorites. After that I walked downtown to a couple of malls, took the subway (which is still immaculate) to Esplanade park, saw the famous durian-shaped Esplanade theater (supposedly as equally posh as the opera houses in Australia), and then wandered aimlessly around the city some more. Uncle Rankin met me for dinner, then we came home, to his fabulous, gigantic house: 3 levels, modern, but not too trendy, clean angles, timeless, really beautiful.

The next day I woke up to my 4 year old cousin Rhys's warm eccentricity (a polite way of saying he yells and sings and runs around a lot, like kids do, very early in the morning), we took him to school, went around Rankin's office at Deloitte, looked after Maddie (who is my other cousin, 16 months, so sweet, but shy), and wandered little India, unkemptly eating Masala Dosai with our bare hands. We picked up Rhys from school, went shopping a bit and then to the American club. I'd go on to explain all of the funny things Rhys says, but will suffice it to: he's warm, inclusive, messy, uninhibited, a total goofball, a kid at his prime. Night rolled around and I went out to dinner with my cousin Simone, whom I haven't seen since she was 6 years old. She is now 13 years old, very active and involved in school, an intellectual already with Singapore's competitive education system, using words like "colloquial" in casual conversation, in her second language, filled with questions and fancy reverie (she acquired from movies) about teenage life in America, saying, "It must be so nice to be 19!", repeating jokes told by her chemistry teacher, talking about being shy and awkward around guys, so she spends her small amount of free time chatting with them via internet "much easier and better" she says with a laugh, making me feel a bit silly and nostalgic.

I've eaten too much in the last day, and week. And after my last meal, my stomach hurts horribly, but I don't regret any of it (the eating, that is). I love Asia. I like that everyone in Singapore says the phrase "Quite Nice" in regards to anything they are mildly impressed by. Things have been nice, quite nice, actually.

April 14

I'm in Bangkok again! This time for longer, almost an entire week.

This week has pushed me to a new level of gastronomical pleasure. And yes, I am a foodie, although I don't know who came up with such a term, and in my opinion, it sounds vague and generic. Anyways, I thought it'd be fun to play Anthony Bourdain for a day, in search of the perfect meal, and write about all of the great food that I've eaten, just in case you might pop in the city and be clueless of where and what to eat.

1. There's nothing to do in Little Arabia but eat, really, so that's what we did. Shwarma street venders, this is meat at its best. It's like an Arabian grilled burrito. I stood outside by the vender, spellbound by the sweaty little man, carving off meat wrapped and roasting around a giant pole. They then put the meat in flatbread with other vegetables, put a little sauce, and then put it under a press til' it's golden and grilled. Amazing!

2. After what seems like working in countless restaurants over the summer, I've long dreamed of opening my own, a tea and coffee house with international deserts. I've always had a sweet tooth, so all through-out Asia I've been trying deserts like mad, trying to pick and make note of the ones that might have international appeal, and I might serve one day in my hip desert cafe. Phil knows this, so when we passed by a restaurant called T42. We looked at the huge table of deserts, and then at each other, "Is it too early for desert?" he asked. "It's never too early for good desert." We got Austrian coffee cake, which was unthinkably moist, with this light meringue and toasted sugar on top. Then we got a slice of banana date flan, which had just the perfect proportions of each flavor. Both of these deserts I definitely want to be in my cafe some day. I was pretty ecstatic.

3. Shubi Shi is horribly popular in Bangkok, we had to wait about an hour to even get in. It's a Japanese buffet, where each seat has a built in soup cooker, your broth of choice, and then you sit at a bar in front of a conveyer belt of plates with fresh ingredients, meats, greens, wontons, noodles, you name it, and you take your plate of choice off the belt and drop it into your soup. There's also plates of sushi, pot stickers, fried fish and shrimp, and other appetizers. I understand it's hype, and I definitely approve, de-licious!

4. The Thai street-vender meal. A classic. We ate breakfast from a vender across the street from Phil's apartment, whom Phil calls "Towel Lady" because she cooks while wearing a pink towel wrapped around her head. She looked decently old and weathered, but she can sure rock a wok, and efficiently so, bringing me a delicious breakfast of chicken basil stir fry, eggs, and rice. Phil rarely cooks because he says its cheaper for him to eat out, and if he's low on money, there is always a quick fill from a street vender. I'm pretty envious, as this phenomena definitely isn't the same in Cambodia. Pretty dang good.

5. Actually, I'm not going to lie, I've been spoiled by authentic Mexican restaurants my whole life. I'm from California. But after I served a meal last summer when I worked at Tio Alberto's to a man living in Tokyo, Japan, I had become a little skeptical of Mexican food served in Asia. He sighed with deep contentment as I served him his plate of Machaca, saying, "It's nice to have real Mexican food, at last." He went on to explain that he'd ordered a taco in Tokyo, and to his shock and surprise and horror, he received some sort of flat bread with a hot dog cut in half, a little lettuce on top, drenched in ketchup and mustard. I wasn't there, but as a Mexican food buff, hearing the words, I felt an ping of pain, an irk, a violation. "No?!" I asked in disbelief. He just shook his head quietly and then dug into his food. So I was pleasantly surprised to be delighted by my fish tacos at Sunrise Tacos. Not bad, not bad at all, another pat on the back and job well-done for Bangkok.

6. Iraqi food in Little Arabia. I was the only woman in the restaurant, only me and the waitresses, covered head to toe in traditional muslim garments. The restaurant was filled with parties of men, talking loudly, plates loaded with meats and rice. I wasn't sure if I was being irreverent or something by being in there, but as soon as I tasted the food, I could care less, I wasn't leaving til' every bit was finished and in my belly. We ordered beef kababs that were amazingly tender, rice, some sort of green salad, and chapatti-like flat bread. Quality.

April 8

Mommy-o came to visit for a few days, and it was just what I needed to preserve my sanity, plus it was a lot of fun! I could give a brief summary of every activity and all of our whereabouts, or, as I like to do, create a messy list of highlighted memories.

I loved when mom came to visit and...
1. my students, upon meeting, greeted her with the respectful cultural bow of the head, hands folded together as if in prayer. My mom just grabbed them and hugged them, and they first looked at me with frightened eyes, bodies stiff, and I just laughed. Mom is one crazy lady! But it wasn't any later than second period, they were crawling all over her, giving her stickers and candy, doing everything they could to please her, tugging on my arms, "Teacher, me love mom you!" they shouted, just like I knew they would.
2. we sat on the roof of my house with red brick shingles, the smoky air making mom's eyes water, just catching up, the first time i've spoken my mind with ease and without inhibition in months.
3. we ate Tapas at Friends.
4. we got greasy corn on the cob from street venders by Psa Thmei, and an old lady struggled across the street and up the curb, and when mom put a hand out to help her, she seemed completely appalled that anyone would want to aid and ease her feeble steps. (What kind of person are you mom, really?)
5. we went to Suki Soup at the top of the dome of Sorya, and stared down at the marvelous view of the whole destitute city of Phnom Penh.
6. got massaged by the blind at Seeing Hands. My masseuse Sophea was so sweet!
7. we bought fruit at Toul Thom Poung, and made a fruit salad for potluck.
8. Ben and Kim made us breakfast at their house and we sang songs all morning.
9. we went to the night market by the Tonle Sap.
10. we went to Monument Books and attempted to get work done.
11. we went to a concert put on by the seniors of CAS at the school, where the same four people sang over and over, song after song in the same intensely pitchy voices.
12. ate dinner at Sarika in the middle of the garden, lights hanging from the trees and by the stream at night, fish Amok in banana leaves, banana flame bay that tasted like kerosene.
13. she missed her first flight because I didn't look at the itinerary and neither did she, and we couldn't find the airline office, and we were stressed and late and crazed like we always are and were.
14. everyone kept telling me, "Your mom looks so young, like your sister, and she's so beautiful, even more beautiful than you!" (it's true)
15. I just got to be with her, and I was happy.

April 1

I realize now that karma doesn't exist. Not that I ever really believed in it, but I’m superstitious, indecisive, irresolute. And I would like it to exist. Things as of late have reached a new and escalated high of horrible. How did things get so messy? I won’t expand.

Aliza, my student, is 6, and the youngest girl in the dorm. Everyday she begs to come home with me, just longing for someone who might look or smell like her parents to hold her during the night. The closest thing to an adult, in which she spends the majority of her time with anyways, I’ve become the default for such a task, and her consistent requests are the opposite of bothersome. She’s wonderful. Yesterday, my mom left in a rush, and I arrived to school late and already overwhelmed. It wasn’t until break time that I sat dazed and disconsolate in the corner of the room, to have Aliza climb up on my lap. It was silent and warm, as the ground began to blur, and Aliza looked at me puzzled, wiping away my tears with her fingertips, brushing my hair out of my eyes. “Teacher, you sleepy, why you cry?” I knew she’d empathize, so I whispered my problems in her ear, in my best broken English. Another student, Malin, noticed and started to laugh as she pointed a finger at me, "Teacher, you cry?" she asked in disbelief. Aliza immediately turned around and scowled, “Buhht Mow-itt Malin (shut your mouth)” she yelled along with another string of angry Khmer phrases I didn’t understand. Malin immediately sat down in her seat, the smile faded from her face, replaced instead by an expression of remorse. Aliza leaned in a little closer, maybe to silently ask if I was alright. Right now it might sound silly, but few things feel as deeply comforting and rewarding as having the love and defense of a child. This morning, she made me a small bouquet of jasmine and purple oleander, the stems tied together with plastic hairties. I have so many reasons why I am still here and I am happy for it. Maybe karma does exist, but life still proves to be a foggy mosaic (just in the way that from up close, it is impossible to see the full picture) with unexpected timing.

I'll write about my mom coming to visit soon. It was really nice.