Portland recap and this space

Well, hello.  I haven't checked into this space in a while. It's not for lack of trying, but I admit it has been a struggle to keep up this work-life-baby balance.  Most days, I prioritize any extra minutes of sleep I can sneak in.

Briefly, since last time, there's been a lot of just daily life, a trip to Portland (evidence above) and even a trip to Johannesburg, South Africa.

There's so much I want to write in this space.  At the same time, I've often thought about shutting down this blog.  I started it nearly five years ago, at a time when I thought it was important to document the mental and emotional preparation for a big move abroad.  And I'm so glad I did.  Blogging forced me to take stock of both the small and big moments in the past five years, colors, shapes and emotions I would have strained to remember today.  Through this space, I can remember what it felt like the first day I stepped foot in Phnom Penh, the cacophony of motorbikes, and the gravity of the idea, slowly settling on me, that this dusty city would be my home. I can recall the first moments I realized I loved this strange international human rights thing - that feeling of having my heart on fire; the crescendo of emotion when I realized I fell in love with Ethan; our travels; our moves to Thailand and eventually back Stateside.

But I've been in DC for nearly two years!  How?!  And I'm not often inspired to document life here. Hah. That sounds horrible but it's the truth.

That's not entirely true. I am inspired to document M's life and motherhood, as I stumble along.  I wonder, though, if this is the place to do it.  Shouldn't I avoid pictures of her (like the one above) in the public domain?  Does this make me a bad mother? I joke, but I'm somewhat serious.

24 hours in NYC

via 

I've kinda been a ball of stress lately.  A very quick trip to NYC should be compounding the stress, but it will be good to get out of this the city - and I'll get to catch up with one of my oldest friends, Jason, who I haven't seen face-to-face since my move out of Portland.

I'm attending a meeting on human rights defenders.  My packing list is small - Mars boots, tights, a silk dress, my Olympe coat.

I'm hoping to come back to the District less grumpy and more clear-eyed.

Paperbag memories

via

Bemoaning the fact that, for the past year, I've been sticking to the practically the same silhouette for dresses (i.e., iterations of this current favorite), I was determined to break the pattern. I revisited this 3.1 Lim paperbag skirt, one of the few skirts I brought with me from California, which thankfully was not in my stolen suitcase.  

I dug my hands in the pockets.  Inside one of the pockets I found a card from Bleuet, a yoghurt shop in Portland, Oregon, prompting a stream of thoughts.

The last time I wore this skirt was in 2006, maybe early 2007.  Given the card in the pocket, that day, I went to NW 23rd Street in Portland.  This was a time before Cambodia, before Thailand, before Ethan, a time when I still lived in Portland, Oregon and when I subscribed to the idea that I'd continue to work in a firm, in the United States.  I remember, that day, ordering yoghurt topped with blueberries, granola, and honey--funny, the same flavors I've been craving this past week--and I remember the taste of tart and sweet.

My, how time flies.  Could the twenty-something me have imagined all the twists and turns life has brought since that day?  

At our wedding, my friend Dom, with whom I worked in Cambodia, said to me, "It seems like you've lived two lives, the one before and the one after Cambodia."

Some days, it really feels like that.

A concert in Lumpini Park and my musings on quark.

In Lumpini Park for an early evening concert.  

I live for evenings like this: a soft sunset, a gathering of friends, a sharing of food, music under the clear sky, the moon above, the feeling of grass on your toes.    

This reminds me of my summer days in Portland, sitting under St. Johns Bridge for Cathedral Park Jazz Festival, except when it happens now and here, there are maybe six nationalities represented at the dinner table/mat and a mixing of foods and accents.

Only tangentially related to dinner last night, is German quark that much better than normal cheese, or is it all in my head? 

Glad that's over.

via NYT

I was jittery all morning (by the time the polls closed Stateside, it was Wednesday morning in Bangkok).  I was glued to my computer, watching the play-by-play.  Suspense drives me crazy.  It also sucks being the only American in the office on such an American day.   

Last election, I still lived in Northeast Portland.  I remember walking through the neighborhood - Obama signs on all the lawns, cold mist hanging, Halloween pumpkins lingering on the porches.

Now that it's over and I have screamed and laughed in celebration, I can perhaps get back to the growing caseload of refugee appeals on my desk.  Hello, Iran.

Bo.lan Farmers Market and Roast

The Bo.lan farmers market is held on the restaurant's grounds every first Saturday of the month.  It was my first time.

I made out like a bandit:  I picked up two gorgeous loaves of bread (a dark rye with pepitas and a sourdough with chili - both are nearly gone), stuffed peppers with ricotta, passionfruit and lemon curd, organic veggies and herbs, and a sharp white-wine mustard.  

  

Local cheese.

Juice concoctions - the beetroot mix was particularly delicious. Look at that color.

Fleur de sel.

Rosemary soap.

After the market, we had brunch at Roast, where I had a PROPER cup of coffee - good enough by Portland standards.

A lifetime away.

 via Habit of Art

Cathy McMurray's photos of the Pacific Northwest tug on my heart strings.  I've said it many times to so many people I've met - the Pacific NW in the summer and autumn seasons is magical. 
 

I lived in the Pacific NW for seven lovely years.  It feels a lifetime ago, but a piece of heart remains there.  Coincidentally, Ethan lived in Seattle during that same period.  We have a running battle between Portland and Seattle - and which city is better. 

But of course, Portland often wins.

markers

This was over two years ago??  Since then, some of my dearest friends in Portland have moved, switched careers from law to medicine, been hitched - and one of these lovely ladies will soon be a mother.  Today- by her doctor's count!  This is another marker of time.

Time is passing quickly.  In some ways, I do not recognize this picture of a pre-Cambodia me devouring clotted cream and lemon curd with utter abandon.  (I paused briefly  to take the picture.)  This picture brings me back to my expectations at the time in my life, what I considered acceptable and unacceptable, where I thought I would settle, etc.  In my two years in Cambodia, I pretty much took all those things and tossed them up in the air.  (I didn't throw them away, but I suspended the need to define everything now, in the most rigid and steadfast terms.)  Life has changed drastically since that day spent in the Portland-suburb tea shop and along with it, I have changed in ways I could not have imagined.  It's a strange sense of freedom and openness that is both wonderful and scary, light and weighty.

I'm aware that my time in Phnom Penh is winding down.  The meetings and receptions in Manila were, in many ways, a culmination of the work I've put into this project/case/research in the past two years.  In Manila, I was also fortunate to meet other lawyers, researchers, and advocates working on similar issues from Kyrgyz Republic to Mongolia to Sri Lanka to the United States to the Netherlands.  We are a small group of people. 

Finally, the meetings drove home the fact that this case - and this work - will go on for years and years to come.  It's important to take breaks.

I am looking forward to my break in Indonesia and India, to a summer of being a plane, ferry, and train passenger to and through countries I have never been.  I'm looking forward to glimpsing the  majestic Himalayas with my own eyes  and breathing in the crisp mountain air.  I am looking forward to sipping a hot cup of Darjeeling tea in  the hillside town of Darjeeling and to rummaging through markets in Indonesia filled with batik textiles.  I am looking forward to walking the cobblestone streets of Ubud.  And even though my heart is heavy with the thought of leaving this work for now (an opportunity to work in Manila has presented itself and I am passing), I am excited about starting our life in Bangkok, Thailand.

The big cheese

My fondest memories of my short trip to Portland in January were cooking and/or eating with friends.  One night, exhausted from the day and the cold, wet PDX weather, Mami and I made grilled cheese sandwiches.  We used prosciutto, apple slices, and spinach (or was it basil?) and good ole' Wisconsin  cheddar cheese, bought by Ethan during his quick trip to Wisconsin. 

A grilled cheese sandwich is an easy fix for lazy nights in Phnom Penh.  I swear Ethan makes the best ones. 

Food & Wine named the best grilled cheese sandwiches in the States!  Some of them look insane.

 via Food & Wine

Una

via Erin Considine (Una)

I spent one afternoon in Portland catching up with Becki at Crema. It was so wonderful to learn how life has evolved in the past year and a half.  

Burnside/NE28th was just as I remembered - Crema, the small plant shop across the street, the sleepy vintage stores nearby, they all felt unchanged.  Only, as I was telling Becki that afternoon, I was disconcerted because in that environment, I felt very different, older, more worn.  Could a year and a half being away really do that to you?  

After coffee, we walked over to Una.  I had all the intention to buy a Mociun & Krantz necklace.  They were 20 percent off! I had been drooling over them from Cambodia for x months!  But somehow, I was not blown away by them at all.  Instead, what made me swoon was an Erin Considine piece (left picture, above).  I didn't pull the trigger that day.  Sticker shock must have also accompanied me on the voyage across the International Date Line. 

Back in Cambodia, I'm still thinking about that necklace.  Good jewelry, particularly out here, is so hard to find.  And I've never been one to go without such luxuries.

What I Ate, Pt. 2

Or, rather, what I drank.  Stumptown Coffee in Portland, Oregon. 

What I Ate, Pt. 1

Stumptown Coffee Roasters, Portland

I'm back in Phnom Penh, still jetlagged and spinning from nearly four weeks of time with my family and friends - and Ethan's family, too.  Last night, menacing thunderstorms kept me up in the wee hours of the morning and my thoughts raced immediately to my time back home.  Admittedly, I cannot really pin down "home": I was born and raised for several years abroad; I grew up in Los Angeles and my family is there; I lived in the gem that is Portland for 6 years; I now reside in Phnom Penh, Cambodia; and Ethan and I are contemplating our next move.  I have never considered myself a "nomad," as I really like to plant myself somewhere for an extended period of time, but gazing at the previous sentence makes me pause.  

At any rate, my thoughts centered on the idea of "home" and "community." Having spent some time reconnecting with friends on this trip, I am reminded of the calibre of my friends.  They are an incredible bunch of people.

And then, my mind wandered to gatherings with these people, often against the setting of food and consumption.  On this trip, I followed friends and family around to their favorite restaurants. Here are a few favorites:

La Moscata Bakery (Los Angeles, California):  I've never actually stepped foot in this bakery.  I only know that my dad, a retired City of Los Angeles worker, frequented this bakery for what he claims are some of the best tamales in town.  Apparently, it's a City workers' haunt.  The morning I left for Denver, Colorado, I awoke to find several dozen tamales n our family kitchen. My parents made the 6:00AM morning drive to stand in line at this Los Angeles bakery.  They wanted to send Ethan and his family a few vegetarian and sweet tamales. 

Snooze, an A.M. Eatery (Fort Collins, Colorado):  I ordered the eggs benedict, topped with tomato ragu, kale, white beans, squash and cream cheese hollandaise.  I, however, also sampled the buttermilk pancakes topped with pumpkin cream, candied pumpkin seeds and chili-infused syrup and the red velvet pancakes with the espresso-infused maple syrup.  

Del INTI (Portland, Oregon):  I really, really enjoy a non-fusion, simple lomo saltado, the kind you find at hole-in-the-wall Peruvian eateries, tucked away in bland stripmalls in Southern California.  This restaurant was certainly not in a stripmall and the food was a little fusion, but it was one of the best Peruvian meals I've had in Portland.

Tabernash Tavern (Tabernash, Colorado): This is a small restaurant in the mountains of Colorado, near Winter Park.  All I remember is that the buffalo stroganoff was yum.

Portland!

Eating, drinking, and catching up with amazing friends in PDX.  This little city glitters.

A growing list

all images via Of a Kind

I would be lying if I didn't say that I have had a long list of items I want to pick up when I'm Stateside.  On that list are random household items, little pleasures that make life in Phnom Penh more comfortable: blue corn tortillas, pine nuts, Mexican spices, maybe some GT 1000s Curried Green Tomato Pickles from cheesemonger-store Foster & Dobbs in Portland (oh my goodness, their Fromage D'Affinois sandwich, with a buttery rind cheese, is delicious).

Also on the list are some Erin Considine, Dream Collective and/or Mociun & Krantz pieces.  These may be old news to people in the US, but I have been waiting to see these pieces in person! By the way, the Portland in me digs that Erin Considine uses natural dyes in her work.

This may be my only chance in the next 8-9 months because I will be in Cambodia for most of next year.  As I write this, even I cannot believe it, particularly given the shady stuff that I/we had to deal with this year.  (Umm, hello Govt crackdown on human rights NGOs!) Earlier this year, I was almost certain that I would not return to Cambodia next year.

Life is so strange.

Portland Jones #1

via Byrds and Bees

Becki, let's grab cappuccinos at Crema, my favorite light-filled renovated warehouse coffee shop in Portland, and then saunter across the street to Una to look at Mociun & Krantz necklaces!

There's a wave of giddiness that comes and goes, that washes over me when I realize that I will be in Portland very soon.  It's been too long since I've seen dear friends, or had a cup of Stumptown coffee (another one we should go to, Becki).  There's been so much life that has passed in this year for myself and loved ones, and there were many times when I wished I could share in those moments more intimately with those who live thousands of kilometers and a vast ocean away. 

Wedged between me and Portland, however, are several long days and nights of writing, writing, writing and then revising, revising, revising - and technically, a shopping layover in Seoul, some time in Los Angeles, and mountain cabin time in Colorado.  

Concentrate.

Daughters of Cambodia

All pictures via Daughters of Cambodia

And just like that, November is gone.

Thanksgiving Thursday flew by without turkeys or cranberry sauce.  Although Ethan and I went out to dinner that evening, the day just felt off.  Unlike the Christmas holiday, which I never miss, I haven't spent most Thanksgivings in California with my family.  There were several years in Portland, when, due to law school, extreme cram sessions and small bank accounts, I could not make it home.  Last year, I spent the holiday in Poipet, the lovely Cambodian slum known for drug trafficking, neon-signed casinos lighting up the night sky, and really weird abandoned amusement parks.  

Despite the absence of many adult Thanksgivings at home, I missed my family so much this year, and I thought I would give anything to be able to watch ridiculous Law & Order SVU (I am lame) marathons, as my grandma Elipidia cooked.

Such is life abroad, I suppose.

Life these days feels similar to those cram sessions I did in law school and at the firm.  One good thing about my recent holing-up is that I've discovered a little gem of a cafe in Phnom Penh, Sugar 'n Spice (run by Daughters of Cambodia), where proceeds go to supporting victims of sex trafficking in Cambodia.  The food is delicious and the comfy seats enable me to plop down and write for long stretches. I figured I was spending in the upwards of $15 a day in other Phnom Penh coffee shops.  My money can go to a better cause.

Daughters also has a small craft shop and nail salon onsite.

pill-popping and other coping mechanisms, Pt. 1

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.

Trinkets

via iswasandwillbe

It might just be that time again, when I am in desperate need of new jewelry because: (1) I have been rummaging, like crazy, in my armoir, hoping that a forgotten trinket will pop up, and (2) when not doing the aforementioned, I am searching for pieces online.

finds

via Una

Erin Considine and Maragrita Saplala, respectively.

Happy Easter!

via Passports & Postcards

My Easter memories, as far back as I can dig into my childhood at least, have always involved bright splashes of color -- coloring Easter eggs with my sisters, hunting for them in garden, baskets full of confections, cakes, and pastel dresses. This year, in Cambodia, the holiday almost passed without notice. I know at home, in Los Angeles, my family is gathering around for dinner, amid bouts of argument and laughter.

This picture of French macaroons reminds of this holiday. It also reminds me of visits to Pix Patisserie, in Southeast Portland, Oregon, where I noshed on colorful macaroons, which I often washed down with one of their tasty beers.