Chiang Mai

More than halfway through 2016.   What a privilege to have been able to call this place home for a few months in our life.  M has thrived.

My balancing act

I took this picture of M when she wasn't yet two months old, when I was still on maternity leave and the days seemed to stretch out before me.

I went back to work in October, during a pretty full-on week.  But thanks my fabulous my in-laws, who flew into the city and hovered around my meetings so that I could nurse M every few hours, I survived that hectic time.  At more than one point in the week, I felt overwhelmed, out of sync, and ready to quit my job!  But I pushed through. One afternoon late in the week, I found myself seated at a table with two human rights defenders from Guatemala. As we discussed their case, I remembered why I fell in love with this work to begin with. 

I don't know how this work/life balance thing will ultimately pan out, but I hope I can strike a healthy medium.  Right now, my attempt at balance includes a mix of working a (very) slightly reduced schedule, leaving the office at 3:30pm most days, working remotely, and carving out time to spend lunch with M everyday.

One of the things that causes me the most anxiety now is something that I have thrived upon - namely, international travel.  I've managed to push off any international travel this year. There was the three-day trip to London that I jumped on and immediately backed off of once M was born. On the horizon is a meeting that keeps getting pushed back. Initially scheduled for Thailand, then India, the meeting will now either be held "somewhere in Africa," in Turkey, or in Thailand.  I won't be able to escape that trip, but I'm hoping that by the time I go - for a week - M will be a little older.  And then, there's the work trip to Nepal that keeps getting pushed back (indefinitely) and Peru, which will happen next October.

This is the longest period of time I've been grounded without international travel, and I crave a new stamp on my passport - but not yet, not if it means being apart from her, and not when she is so little.  A dream I have, someday, is to travel across the world with her, or at least to a few far-flung places.  I think fondly back to the French father-daughter pair I met in a ger in Mongolia.  She, a blonde bubble of energy, was on her gap year.  Father and daughter met in Mongolia for a three week tour of the Gobi Desert, after which she would travel to Nepal alone.  I remember their talks, his encouraging words to her about hiking in Nepal, of the Annapurna trail dotted with tea houses.

That's the dream, but baby steps first.  

Russian chocolates

The day before I went into labor, Ethan and I celebrated our one year anniversary.  In lieu of how we imagined we would celebrate (a trip to Kyrgyzstan, camping in a yurt), we instead spent the day doing more low-key activities--namely, buying houseplants, eating at our favorite Sichuanese restaurant in the Maryland 'burbs, and visiting a few of the adjacent "ethnic" grocery stores, one of which was a Russian/post-Soviet Imperium grocery store.  There, we came across these chocolates, which I encountered in many grocery stores in Russia. I remember bringing these home as souvenirs for friends in Portland.

That trip feels like a lifetime ago.  I think often of that trip.  I guess it could have been any trip. Replace the Tran-Siberian with a trip to Italy or Chile - whatever.  That trip marked an inflection point in my life; so much changed after that time.

One of the surprising things I've found about motherhood is that it has strengthened my resolve to live/work abroad again.  Moving abroad again has always been our plan, but there's another dimension to it now. When I found out I was pregnant, my mind clung to an image of me, Ethan and our child in Cambodia or another country. Perhaps it's because that's where this story began (where Ethan and I met and fell in love).  Perhaps it's because I was exposed to many expat mothers raising their families in Cambodia, Thailand, elsewhere.  And/or, perhaps I'm clinging to a way of life that may no longer fit.  I'm not sure; it's probably a mix of all three.

With M's arrival, Ethan and I talk a lot about living abroad again.  It pains our families to hear that we plan to move abroad with M in a few years. While life certainly has its twists and turns, I hope that when the right opportunity presents itself, we will have the courage to go through with the move.

But that won't happen for a few years, I think.  And right now, there's a lot to relish about life in DC.

Looking back

This is one of my favorite pictures of Ethan.  I took it two summers ago, when we were in Darjeeling, India. It was during that summer of travel between Indonesia, Singapore and India, the summer before we moved to Thailand.  

Drawn out by promises of proper coffee, we walked to this small restaurant. I can't remember what it was called, but it had maybe three tables.  Indeed, it served up a proper cup of coffee and a hot, hearty breakfast.  We sat at this table, staring at the foot traffic outside, the fog and cold enveloping the streets.  I don't remember what we did that day.  I probably dragged him out to afternoon tea at the Elgin Hotel. Or, maybe we took a jeep ride to another hillside town. 

I get so caught up in the pace of life in this city. Sometimes I forget all the little adventures we shared.  I don't want to forget; those experiences ground me.  Sometimes I fail to realize life in this city is itself is a little adventure for us. One day, I'll look back and miss the tree-lined streets; the bands/musicians playing in Dupont Circle, causing music to stream into my office in the late afternoon; the rowhouses jutting up towards the sky; all the bits and pieces that make this life colorful.

2013, a year in review.

January

We still lived in Bangkok.  Sigh.  This was my last trip to Chatuchak Market.

My family visited Bangkok and we played tourist.

February

One of many rooftop bars in Bangkok. What a view.

March - June

A month or two into my move to Washington DC.  Walking around the Mall.

Same day, at sunset.

July

The view from the mountain house in Colorado.  We were married in this meadow.

Sunrise in Turkey.

Exploring.

August

An afternoon of baseball.

September 

Fastfood bibimbap in Dupont Circle Park.

October

The inevitable transition to Fall.

November

Treats at the office.

December

On the Hill.

Note to Self: At 6 months.

It's September, which means that it has been 6 months since I moved to D.C. and over a year since I left Cambodia.  How do I feel? 

The city doesn't feel as alien to me as it did those first cold months, when I was easily unsettled by the darkness of the Metro and the tired faces commuting in the evenings.  I guess you could say I'm more accustomed to the lay of the land, including what is expected of me at work.  Also, now (most days) I can stare at the gigantic world map situated on the one blue wall in my office, stare at the little spot of the Mekong region, and not cry.  During my first three months, that was not the case.

I say this to Ethan and to any friends or colleagues who listen to my circular rants:  It's incredible what an emotional tie I have to that region.  Fine, I was born in Southeast Asia and lived in that corner of the world for a few years of my life.  But I never thought I'd want to live there, work there, and miss doing so.

Cambodia holds a special place in my heart, despite my struggles there.  Thailand-and the awesome concrete jungle of Bangkok - also hosts fond memories.

This week, I shared a drink with a woman who works at a certain human rights organization.  We met in Manila last year, during one of my meetings at the Asian Development Bank.  She flies around the world - all over Europe, Asia, South America, Africa - and advocates on  behalf of communities suffering human rights abuses. (She intimidates me a little.)

She asked me if I ever cried during a meeting, and we started talking about dealing with the stresses of this work. And I was brought back to this conversation and this one. It's not so different, is it?  Amazing people in a different city, in a different country, in a different phase of my life.

In other words, I'm starting to realize this work in the District is a continuation of those experiences.  It's connected, and hopefully that will help me push through.

Two thoughts

images via Blossom Vintage

Two thoughts tonight.

First: Blossom Vintage is a vintage shop housed in a 1970s Safari Airstream. Isn't that rad?  There's something about the idea of a woman who travels the world and collects vintage dresses that tugs at my heart strings.  I may have to check it out during my overdue trip to Los Angeles in December. 

Second:  It's only Tuesday, but it feels like Thursday, and I wish it was Friday. It must be one of those weeks. Some days, as I'm walking into these meetings with certain government agencies and international organizations, I am struck by the fact that people spend so much time talking, talking, talking in this city- me included!  Months after moving from Thailand, that entire experience still feels so removed.  And some moments--though as the months pass, these moments are less frequest-- I just want to buy a plane ticket to Bangkok or Phnom Penh, just to visit, even if only for a few days.

Random thoughts on a June morning.

  via Thann

• I'm working from home today.  I over-exerted myself this week by running around and then auditing an evening course on climate at the law school.  I'm flat out.  

•  I feel like I have more of  a footing at work now than I did in March, but the nature of this work still feels strange some days and so much comes at you so fast.  I'm with a good group of people, who are passionate about their work, and that helps.  I've also accepted that this adjustment will take time.  Another thing that will help is that, earlier this week I connected with a community in Africa, who I will be working with on a project. 

• I blame my Swiss-obsessed colleague in Bangkok for my slight obsession with Thann, a natural skincare line from Thailand.  I picked up a few things from the Aromatic Wood line while in Bangkok.  And a few weeks ago, Ethan's best friend sent me a little gift of Thann hair condition and oil as a thank you for letting him stay at our place. 

• I received an email from a colleague in Bangkok.  Two of my appeals, one of which involved a Cambodian man, languishing from HIV, whose appeal had been on hold for 4+ years, were successful.  It was a good email to receive.  These refugees and their families will now go through the resettlement process and hopefully leave Thailand, which is not a favorable place for asylum seekers. I imagined the Cambodian man and his family, including his children, moving to Australia or some Scandinavian country.  I tried to imagine what their new lives, what opportunities the children would receive, what their new homes would look like.  I remember this man's daughter, who I met during her visit to Thailand from France.  She had cried and cried to me, calling her father a hero, and expressing her fear that he would die in Thailand without a home.   

• In one month, Ethan and I will be married and in Turkey.  I find it hilarious (and super annoying) that I, who have lived in and gravitated towards some variation of white, eyelet, cotton, lace dresses (as everyday wear), cannot now settle on one dress for my wedding day.  I've discovered that I'm just not a bridal gown kind of bride.  I've ordered a few things, which will arrive this week.  I hope they work out. I keep telling myself that the dress is not what matters. But, Filipino relatives are known to scrutinize like mad. And I'm not completely impervious to that pressure.  

• Yesterday, Ethan and I received a very generous gift in the mail, which has largely paid for our upcoming honeymoon. I was floored by the kind act, washed over by this overwhelming feeling of gratitude. We're simple travelers at heart, but I think we may try one of the fancy hotels on the Bosphorus as a treat.   

• Tonight, Ethan and I are going to chaperone the 9th grade class prom.  It's my excuse to wear my new Mayle dress and red lipstick.

• I received a call from my sister this week.  My mom had fallen, hit her head and broken her clavicle.  I'm relieved she's okay, but I'm starting to develop a fearful reaction to phone calls received in the night.  This year, I've received too much bad news that way.

•  For lunch, I'm going to saute the pancetta I bought at the Italian market, with onion, garlic, tomato, and kale.  I wish I had chickpeas...

The weekend.

It was one of those lazy weekends.  Now that the sun is out, Ethan and I have made a weekend habit of walking through our neighborhood, past the row of embassies, down to Dupont Circle.  (We're not yet sure if we'll stay in this neighborhood. While the architecture is charming and there are numerous shops/cafes and an awesome public library within short walking distance, the lack of diversity is startling.   But, for now, it is home.)

This Saturday, the EU embassies opened their doors to the public. Crowds lined up. We did too. We scored chocolates, waffles, Framboise and other beer at the Embassy of Belgium.  That embassy was even raffling off tickets to Belgium. Well done, Belgium.

We visited a few other embassies, seeking cover from the spotty afternoon showers in ornately decorated dining rooms and eventually made it to Kramerbooks, where I thumbed through a few guides to Istanbul and stumbled upon a Xinjiang province (China) guidebook, which brought back all sorts of memories of crossing the Kazakhstan-China border by bus.

It's funny how my memory glosses over certain things, like that bus ride. But that memory came in  so clearly yesterday, leaving me with images of the desert.  There was the bus emptied of seats, brightly-colored tapestries covering the back wall and floor. The group - there were maybe 12, all, but us, local--sat on the floor as the bus bumped along the desert highway.  A young Kazakh woman with jet black hair and a slender face asked where we were from. We shared a sequence of broken phrases and, from what I gathered between her laughter, she advised me to have children.  Later, as we crossed out of Kazakhstan and then into Xinjiang province in China, I would catch her checking in on us, buzzing around the lines, making sure we made it through.

That was nearly two summers ago.

I continued to thumb through the book and its stunning views of Xinjiang, the images leaving me a little melancholy.  

One month, stolen luggage, and Mayle pangs.

Hmmm.

So I realize there's been a lot of things that have changed for me since I last lived in the US.  I knew this, but I didn't really know this, not until now as I'm confronted by little culture-shock after little culture-shock, day after day, each leaving me shaking my head or furrowing my brow. 

The last month has not been easy for me.  Work is super interesting, and related to my work in Cambodia, but it's on such a different level that sometimes it feels disconnected.  Like in fancy meetings in ornately decorated government offices, where I landed several times during my first week, in discussions about communities and human rights and where these mega-projects should be going.  Anyway, I don't even want to go there right now.

What I really want to do is vent.  A few days ago, as I was moving my things to my new place, I realized that someone had stolen one of my luggage pieces, left in a storage in the hotel where I was staying.  Fifty pounds of clothing, books, trinkets from last few years. All my favorite vintage dresses, several of the silk and linen dresses I made in Cambodia, many of my Mayle dresses and jackets that I have been collecting throughout the years (but not all of them- thank goodness), letters, souvenirs - all things I valued enough to pack into the suitcase and bring with me, but somehow was able to leave it in a purportedly secure storage room in a hotel?

The realization that someone had stolen my things left me reeling and did nothing but add to the already foreign experience in this cold city.  It pushed me over the edge in some ways, and all I could do was cry out of anger and frustration.  After filing a police report and arguing with the hotel owner, and beating myself up, I now feel this huge loss and this mounting anger.

At the same time, I know these are "just" things.  In the past week, there has been a death in my extended family and Ethan's grammie is having health issues.  These are just clothes, no?!

But not really, which goes back to my first sentence about how things are different for me.  When I last lived in the US, I bought things constantly.   Many things I am glad I invested in, but the vast majority of purchases were done for the sake of buying and consuming.  I do not even think it registered with me at the time.

Upon my return Stateside, I faced boxes and boxes of clothing and shoes.  And frankly, it made me feel disgusting because, in the past 3+ years of my life (very happy, fulfilled years despite difficulties), I did not really miss all those things.  Yes, I missed the feeling of wearing a beautiful dress or a coat every now and then, but I certainly did not miss all the things I accumulated and stored. 

Surprisingly, I was very happy, living with very much less.  As I look back now, I see that Cambodia forced me to go cold turkey on my consumption habits.

I came back to the US aware of my past consumption habits and determined to be more careful because, I realized, I already had a very full wardrobe and didn't really need anything else.

But with this incident... the buying moratorium may be lifted.

Running

I have so many pictures left from my last months in Thailand, these from my family's visit to Ayuthaya.

Ever since I landed Stateside, I feel as if I've been running. To say that I am in a state of (reverse) culture shock would be an understatement, though I am surprised and also annoyed that I underestimated the impact of years working in Southeast Asia.

During my first days in the city, I was jarred by the bitter cold, the sight of endless rowhouses, the Washington Monument in the horizon, the sounds of loud and constant chatter (in English), the gigantic size of food/cars/stores, the darkness of the Metro and the tired faces commuting in the evenings, how segregated the city feels.

There were also good things:  re-discovering brussels sprouts and kale (obsessed with these veggies for the past year), walking the cobblestone streets near Eastern Market, perusing several used bookstores, glimpsing the sprawling green space and the beautiful architecture, savoring a good (though expensive to me) cup of coffee, enjoying a proper hamburger.

I've also noticed that my social cues and social graces must be recalibrated.  This is happening slowly.    

Steady.

It's been a rough week, which I've largely spent buried in appeals and listening to stories of refugees' homes being raided in the early morning, of being coerced into paying bribes to officers to secure family members' release, of being subject to "soft deportation" to the countries from which they fled, etc.

I'm glad it's Friday evening. 

Ethan told me the other day that I mainly use this space to document shoes and dresses.  That is true.  I write less about my work in Thailand than I did in Cambodia.  Maybe it was the novelty of Cambodia.  Maybe I was still new to drawing boundaries of work and not-work, especially human rights work.  Maybe it's that the nature of my work in Thailand is such that I am bound my stricter confidentiality rules and 50+ hours a week dedicated to this work is more than sufficient use of my thoughts and energy.

Still, the reason I've kept this space for the past three years is to document - and to remember. Because memories invariably grow faint. Because things change so quickly in life.

Speaking of which, change is coming.  Another twist, despite my dogged resistance.  And, I'm doing all I can to not be overwhelmed, to work on my cases without being consumed by all that is ahead. 

Must. Breathe. 

To start the week.

I can't recall where I found this. If someone knows, do tell.

2013 and what I want.

Afternoon strolls in Darjeeling and Pelling, India

It's only been in the last few years that I started the ritual of writing out resolutions to mark the start of a new year.  I think this space has been good for that and, in general, for documenting the past three years. 

It's my lunch break at work. I've just finished a Sri Lankan meal of pumpkin curry and banana leaf salad. In ten minutes, if my client is on time, I will have to start an appointment.  But for now, I'm clearing the space to jot down what I want out of this year.  Writing keeps me honest and accountable.

I didn't accomplish all that I resolved to accomplish in 2012.  While I did move out of Cambodia to pursue other work, I still grapple with balancing work and personal obligations.  Six months after my departure from Cambodia, I'm also still working out how that experience fits into the rest of my life.  I published my research in Cambodia, but I failed to complete the manuscript for the journal article that I was once so psyched about.  I accepted summer vacations back into my life and, during one such vacation to Indonesia and India, I became engaged to Ethan.  All in all, I would say it was a good year, despite difficulties.

2013 will be more flux, more change. In July, I will be married. The prospect of having a family is a notion I never really entertained before (at least, not seriously).  But for the first time in my life, it's what I want. (Being exposed to wonderful women who appear to balance fulfilling careers and aspirations, along with family obligations, has helped.)  Finally, there's the possibility that we will be back in the US some time this year - for how long, I do not yet know.

My resolutions this year:

1. Another summer vacation - If and when I do return to the US long-term, one thing I will struggle with is having to fit back into a two-week annual vacation.  This year, I am blocking the month of July for wedding and honeymoon travels. Period.   
2. Publish - There is one research project that has been languishing since last year and another on my desk regarding gender-based violence/persecution claims before the UN.  I want to have both manuscripts completed this year and hopefully, published or at least publishable.
3. Push through the fear (of change, of rejection, etc) -One thing I tend to do is shrink or be paralyzed when I see all that change coming at me, all at once.  I hope to be able to push through despite my fears. One example is that, in the past two months, I've been a candidate for positions that I thought were out of reach (and very well should have been before Cambodia).  I made many excuses in my head not to try, but I eventually I did.  It's too early to tell how it will pan out, but the process has been surprising and a lesson in itself.  Most importantly, I should allow myself to dream.
4. Cook simply - My cooking mantra for 2013 can best be summed up in this book by David Tanis.  Again, a girl can dream.
5. Spend more time with family and friends - Three years abroad. Enough said. 

Grateful

2012 is nearly gone!  There's so much I'm grateful for this year.  I'm grateful for all the small adventures this year has brought: the travel, the move to another country, a new job that has reminded me to be open to learning new things; and yes, now that I have had more distance, even the tumultuous experiences of my last few months in Cambodia.  

I'm also grateful for the quiet moments in my day that ground and replenish me: early mornings in my light-filled apartment (usually, accompanied with papaya lemon curd toast), when the day is wide-open; my walk home from work, with the sky overhead burning red and cool air stirring; evenings spent cooking with Ethan in our tiny Thai kitchen, with the produce finds from the local market.  I'm grateful for the presence of so much love in my life, of my family and friends - and my soon-to-be family, who has been super supportive (i.e., wholly responsible for any movement on the wedding planning).

This is my fourth Thanksgiving spent out of the country.  I'm finding that there's a part of me that wants to ensure that next Thanksgiving is different.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Summer redux: Snaps from Ubud

We moved from the early morning muezzin calls and pre-Ramadan celebrations on the island of Java to Bali,  where daily rituals are steeped in Hindu culture. A few reasons why I loved Ubud:

• Hindu culture and art in the daily offerings, which can be found lining the sidewalks
• Frangipani flowers everywhere - dotted on the sidewalks, on the bed linens, everywhere!
• Morning cups of tea with a view of the rice paddies and the family shrines below
• Soursop and cinnamon jam on crepes (so good)
• The Sacred Monkey Forest Sanctuary (more on that later) and runaway monkeys

And most importantly, Ethan proposed while we were in Ubud, with a ring his late grandfather gave to his grandmother!  I was all tears.  

Gone, so gone.

Goodbye, summer vacation.  You were lovely. (I already miss you.)

We're in Bangkok, and we're apartment hunting, which means days pounding the pavement. Someone needs to stop me from drinking too many of these Thai iced coffees.  Crack coffee.

I'll report on my summer holiday soon.