It's Friday afternoon in Phnom Penh. I'm sitting at Cafe Living Room, housed in a colonial -era building, trying to work out a few things about the research findings, trying to write. The page in front of me -it's minimized right now because I'm using my blog as a distraction, using "urgent" Skype work messages as a break - only has a few words on it. Oh. my. gosh. I'm sipping on a honey latte. It is delicious.
This morning, I went to yoga. It's rare that I have enough motivation to do any form of intentional exercise. Even the act of dressing for the exercise tires me. There was , however, a summer in Portland when I was obsessed with Bikram yoga (26 postures in a 105 degree room), and, for three months, I managed to do yoga three times a week. The idea at first sounded less appealing: me, sweating profusely, in a stuffy hot room with many other people who are also sweating profusely. Images of stepping in, even slipping on, a stranger's pool of sweat plagued my mind. Nonetheless, I was soon addicted. I felt so good that summer. A stranger even commented on how my skin glowed? Really? Was it the increased circulation? In sum, it was the best shape I've been in my recent adult life.
I tried yoga once in Phnom Penh, on the rooftop of Nataraj, with a small fan blowing and an orange sun setting in the background. I think. I do remember it was really warm, almost Bikram-warm. Through no fault of the instructor, I lost interest. It was also $9/session, and maybe I am cheap, but I shy away from paying Western prices in Cambodia.
Only recently have I seriously considered how I take care of myself. Fine. It's the shady NGO crackdown. It's the stress at work. But also I am getting older and I realize I need to put as much intention into taking care of myself as I do about other things, such as travel and dress-daydreaming.
The yoga this morning was done at the Flicks, which is a community movie house in Phnom Penh. They hold a morning session a few times a week, for $5/session. My muscles hurt. TheyAustralian instructor helped me do a headstand (i.e., he held my feet up for 3 seconds). It was good - I'll go again.
Another thing I've done to take care of myself is to take vitamins. In many ways, I eat healthier in Phnom Penh - I eat less processed food, I bake, roast, sautee much more, I almost exclusively buy fresh ingredients. And yet, I don't have access to all the foods I love eating. (No weekly sushi trips with Mami to nosh on seared salmon.) Cheryl's post on skin supplements piqued my interest, and, voilà, iherb.com shipped those babies to Cambodia, on the cheap. As opposed to my firm job in Portland, I am in the field more these days, interviewing and meeting with households affected by the ADB Railway Rehabilitation Project. I don't mind more freckles, but my hair is parched, my skin so-so.
Oh, and the random picture: ice cream on a hot day in Almaty, Kazakhstan, a brief stop while on a stroll through the city with Ethan. These days, I don't skimp on small treats.
This morning, I went to yoga. It's rare that I have enough motivation to do any form of intentional exercise. Even the act of dressing for the exercise tires me. There was , however, a summer in Portland when I was obsessed with Bikram yoga (26 postures in a 105 degree room), and, for three months, I managed to do yoga three times a week. The idea at first sounded less appealing: me, sweating profusely, in a stuffy hot room with many other people who are also sweating profusely. Images of stepping in, even slipping on, a stranger's pool of sweat plagued my mind. Nonetheless, I was soon addicted. I felt so good that summer. A stranger even commented on how my skin glowed? Really? Was it the increased circulation? In sum, it was the best shape I've been in my recent adult life.
I tried yoga once in Phnom Penh, on the rooftop of Nataraj, with a small fan blowing and an orange sun setting in the background. I think. I do remember it was really warm, almost Bikram-warm. Through no fault of the instructor, I lost interest. It was also $9/session, and maybe I am cheap, but I shy away from paying Western prices in Cambodia.
Only recently have I seriously considered how I take care of myself. Fine. It's the shady NGO crackdown. It's the stress at work. But also I am getting older and I realize I need to put as much intention into taking care of myself as I do about other things, such as travel and dress-daydreaming.
The yoga this morning was done at the Flicks, which is a community movie house in Phnom Penh. They hold a morning session a few times a week, for $5/session. My muscles hurt. TheyAustralian instructor helped me do a headstand (i.e., he held my feet up for 3 seconds). It was good - I'll go again.
Another thing I've done to take care of myself is to take vitamins. In many ways, I eat healthier in Phnom Penh - I eat less processed food, I bake, roast, sautee much more, I almost exclusively buy fresh ingredients. And yet, I don't have access to all the foods I love eating. (No weekly sushi trips with Mami to nosh on seared salmon.) Cheryl's post on skin supplements piqued my interest, and, voilà, iherb.com shipped those babies to Cambodia, on the cheap. As opposed to my firm job in Portland, I am in the field more these days, interviewing and meeting with households affected by the ADB Railway Rehabilitation Project. I don't mind more freckles, but my hair is parched, my skin so-so.
Oh, and the random picture: ice cream on a hot day in Almaty, Kazakhstan, a brief stop while on a stroll through the city with Ethan. These days, I don't skimp on small treats.
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