Checking in and looking back

I'm happy to report that I survived yet another crazy week of meetings.  As is often the case with these chaotic weeks, friends and colleagues from all over the world flew into the city.  This time, Ratha, with whom I spent many tedious hours in the countryside of Cambodia, was in town to discuss her research on agribusiness in northern Cambodia. She came with news from Phnom Penh - mainly bad news. The small team I previously worked with faced threats of arrest from authorities (not surprising), but this time several staff were arrested, though eventually released.  If I was still in Cambodia, I would certainly have been one of those arrested.

Ratha's arrival also gave me pause to look back. The picture above is one that she took during a challenging week of research in Sihanoukville. There is probably a filter on this picture, but I swear the sunsets I remember, especially on that coast, were always bathed in some stunning, unreal light. 

This picture was taken during a very demanding, fast-paced month. At the time, our research team faced threats of arrest, so we moved our work to Sihanoukville, another province. The team, exhausted most days, bickered on and off, with a divide increasingly occurring between the Khmer and foreign staff.  I stood in the middle.  Days after that work trip, there was the elaborate Khmer wedding in the countryside, at the pepper plantation.  And then a few days later, I joined others for a lovely weekend in Koh Kong, at the Rainbow Lodge Eco Resort, to celebrate a friend's 30th birthday.  There was hiking and leeches, laughter, and sun-bathing.  That same month, Ethan had left to meet his family in Europe.  It was the longest time we'd been apart since we met.  A few weeks later Ethan would travel east, and I west, and we would meet in Almaty, Kazakhstan. It took me three separate flights to get to Almaty.  I remember it feeling like forever.

Cafe culture and Turkish coffee, Istanbul

I've been struggling with words lately.  And when I call back to our time in Istanbul, when I try to explain my impressions to friends and family, I tend to ramble in some incoherent manner a mix of thoughts, incongruent expectations, and longings.  Modern Istanbul, with its cafe street culture, cobblestone streets, and numerous mosques dotting the horizon, sweet shops, and tea gardens where men spend afternoon hours over games of backgammon, presents an obvious charm.

But it took some days--a few ferries rides between the European and Asian side of the city (where I had my best meal), several walks through Beyoğlu, and a trip to Cappadocia--to win me over.  Win me over it did.

Istanbul was a destination on my list two previous times. The first was during my train trip from Beijing to St. Petersburg.  I had a half-baked idea to travel from St. Petersburg to Istanbul, which I didn't do.  The second time was three years ago, when Ethan and I did part of our Silk Roads trip.  He and his brother were climbing Mount Blanc, and we considered starting our leg in Istanbul.  Instead, we met in Almaty and traveled east.

I am rambling again.  I confess that some days I feel as if Cambodia smacked the succinct, logical, linear-thinking lawyer right out of me.

Today my Istanbul memories center on Turkish coffee, mud-thick and strong, oft-served with Turkish delight.  I'm also thinking of the many cups of tea I drank in that city.

Found while walking: summer.

We spend a lot of time walking in this city.  It's too easy - all these cobblestone streets and tiny little row-homes. 

During one of those weekend walks, we came across the Smithsonian Zoo.  It was free, so we continued to take a stroll through.  I haven't been to a zoo since I was a kid.  Oh wait, that's a lie!  We came across one in Kazakhstan, which was so sad that I must be trying to block it out of my memory. 

This zoo was much better, though I still have mixed feelings about zoos.  We walked by pandas sleeping, river otters rolling in the water, lionesses perched high above the peering crowds, and a thirsty elephant. 

 

Summer is everywhere: the flowerbeds in front of the brick row-homes are blooming, and the parks are green, covered with wildflowers.  But what's kind of magical is that, during our night walks, we see fireflies floating above grassy lawns.  Did we have fireflies in Portland?  If so, I never noticed.

 

Yesterday afternoon, as we were walking back from Georgetown, we came across a small chocolate shop, Fleurir.  I bought a cup of their strawberry basil ice cream.  It's probably the best savory-sweet ice cream I've had in a while. 

Debbie Downer

A market in Kashgar, China

To be honest, I've been in a little funk since I moved Stateside.  Why?  I mean, everyone keeps talking about how great life is - wedding, new job, new city.  Shouldn't I be beyond thrilled?

I'm grateful for so many things.  I feel lucky to have found a partner in life, who shares many of my dreams and who happens to be one of the most loving, patient, ego-free people I know.  I've also managed to find a more sustainable, not dysfunctional way to practice human rights law, with a group of supportive, fairly laidback lawyers. (Who knew such people/lawyers existed?)  While many young lawyers are burning out from law, I feel as if I've found my niche.  And, though I continue to learn the contours of this work, as I did in Cambodia and in Thailand, I do enjoy this type of practice, this weird mix of international policy and human rights law, which will require international travel  - some complain it can require too much international travel. 

Still, I just miss living abroad. And more specifically, I miss Asia. 

I'm looking forward to our honeymoon in Turkey.

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.  

Travel hair

 

via Cup of Jo

I love the hair tutorials on Cup of Jo. I think this messy "perfect knot" may be my perfect travel hairstyle.  To be honest, I've given little thought to my travel plans, which start next Monday: overland travel in Indonesia, a day in Malaysia, a flight to Kolkata, and then weeks in northern India and maybe Nepal.  It is going to be a hot and humid summer!

I am looking forward to fresh air and green scenery, to train travel, to boat/ferry journeys, and to new places. I have less than two days at work.  Will I be able to decompress?  Or, will I carry this work with me? 

Last summer, as I was traveling east from Kazakhstan, my organization and others were targeted by the Government for our work on the Railways project.  My team did a great job of keeping this information from me while I was away, but it eventually made its way to me.  In a dark internet-lab in Lanzhou, China, after over 36 hours of hard travel in the August heat, I read the news, and worry set in. 

The pace of work at this organization is so fast, so hurried, that you often do not have time to process.  It was only yesterday, as I was speaking to Dana, the bright-eyed American legal intern, that I realized how much of a threat we functioned under in May, when we traveled to the Manila meetings with the two community members.  Yes, it was a good time in Manila, if not surreal.  Evenings soirees at the Sofitel were filled with the fanciest canapés I have seen and free-flowing champagne.  But there were also meetings, and in those meetings with diplomats and politicians from European, Asian, and American constituent countries, we tried to impress the risks we faced when traveling to meet with them - perhaps we wouldn't be allowed to re-enter the country, or perhaps the organization would again be threatened, or perhaps the communities would face repercussions.  As I spoke to Dana about it yesterday, it dawned on me how nuts the landscape is here. 

Earlier in the week, I had a farewell breakfast with G, an American lawyer who has been working on land issues in Cambodia for many years.  "Sometimes, during your years of work, you leave people behind," he commented. "You have to learn to do what is best for you. Listen to what your body.  Do not apologize. Do not feel guilt."    

I wonder: Does it get easier?

Filled

If someone took a peek into my mind today, they would find that it is filled with these images:

Yesterday, we held a forum for the 150+ complainants we assisted in filing a complaint, many of whom I worked with in my research last year.  In many ways, this forum felt like a good ending to this period in Cambodia.   I wrote an email to a friend this morning.  It said: They were from all over the country.  I've seen their faces during hot days in the provinces, as they stood in their store-fronts, with their babies.  I've seen them in torrential downpours and in meeting rooms with officials. I've seen a lot of these women cry.  

I won't use this post to try to process how I feel about my departure because I don't think I have it all processed yet.  Or, I don't have the mental space or willingness to process it.  It will certainly be something I think about this summer, once I can put a lot of my daily work to rest.

 

I'm also anticipating July 1st and summer adventures, and I am fondly remembering last year's summer adventures in Kazakhstan and western China (Xinjiang province). My heart swells every time I think back to that time. 

One of my resolutions this year was to bring back summer vacations, without the adult guilt.  Check.

I spoke to my Khmer colleagues about this.  "You have a month and a half between jobs?!" one asked. It's a very un-Khmer thing, this holidaying without guilt.  My Khmer colleagues don't get it.  It's indulgent.  Perhaps this isn't too dissimilar to judgments across the world?  

 images link to source

Drawing dressmaking inspiration from the details on these dresses - one more dash to the Cambodian dressmaker.

Eating my way through Chengdu

After the entrancing post-Soviet kitsch of Almaty, Kazakhstan and the crumbling walls of the Old Muslim Quarter in Kashgar, China, we headed east.  In fact, we had a ticket booked to fly out of Chengdu, China in late August.  We, however, underestimated the distance (over 4,300km from Kashgar) and  overestimated the availability of transport in the region (limited).  Once we left Xinjiang province, all movement west was accompanied with increasingly more crowds and tourists  - and  ultimately sold out train tickets.

Travel west was piecemeal, a series of transfers and glimpses of desert towns strung along a circuit in the Northern Taklamakan Desert.  Since the China train system does not  have centralized booking, we had to wait until we arrived in the city to buy tickets from that city onto to the next destination.  Okay...  We would arrive in a city in the early morning and head straight to the ticket counter, hoping that transport to the next destination was available within a day or so.  If we were lucky, we'd get tickets for later that evening, drop our bags at the luggage deposit, and set out to explore the small towns for the day, eating our way through local treats.

The most difficult day we had was in Lanzhou.  We had arrived via a 36-hour (or something equally taxing) hard seat train trip from Dunhuang, I think.  Upon arrival, we realized that the train to Chengdu was sold out for weeks!  Worse yet, there are no direct buses from Lanzhou to Chengdu.  Weird. 

Further compounding my annoyance, access to any pertinent internet information was limited because all the information about bus travel (or lack thereof) from Lanzhou was on Blogger-supported sites, which are blocked in China.   We were left with two options: (1) Take the tenuous route through Sichuan province, through small Tibetan towns with haphazard bus schedules; or (2) take a train to Xian, which is further west still, and hope that connections via bus or train could be made there.  And, we were running out of time.

We opted for Xian, and yes there was a bus connection there!

Long story short:  We eventually made it to Chengdu and had a few days to spare.  We settled at Sim's Guesthouse, a cozy little gem of a place, and explored the city, lamenting the end of our trip.  It was a wonderful few days of Chongqing hot-potting, dumpling eating, and Tibetan sweet yak milk drinking.  

The Streets of Kashgar

I took a few pictures off of Ethan's camera.  Why does our Kazakhstan/China trip seem so long ago?  Isn't it amazing how quickly you sink back into everyday life?

I'll post more from the Kashgar market and Karakul Lake, where we stayed in a yurt in a Kyrgystan village (loved it, loved it). I just finished a 6:30am morning yoga session (yay for me!) and have to go to the office for a community meeting.

Kashgar, Xinjiang Province, China

via nhagen123

My camera is not working. I used Ethan's camera for the majority of the August trip and still have not uploaded pictures.

Something today triggered a memory of Kashgar.  The city of Kashgar is in Xinjiang province in western China. It is home to the largest population of Uyghurs in the country.  We reached it via 24 hour train journey from Urumqi, China, a drab sprawl of a city.

As our luck would have it, we arrived in early August, just days after the incident in Kashgar that left at least 19 dead.  Media was blocked, so we had no clue.  All we knew was of the incident in Khotan, another city in Xinjiang, a few weeks prior.

The military presence in the city was astounding - and intimidating.  Battalions of armed men were positioned in the central mosque area.  Caravans full of military men slowly cruised down the streets, monitoring.  Traveling into the city and out, we encountered checkpoint after checkpoint, after checkpoint.

But I digress.

We stayed in the center of Old Kashgar, a crumbling labyrinth of mud-brick buildings, narrow streets, hat shops, spice stalls, dried fruit vendors, and small tea shops.  It is an incredible city.  If you allow yourself to get lost in its maze, you come across small mosques and curious eyes, you pass women wearing brightly colored ikat-print dresses, glimpse low-slung courtyards . . .

Directly outside of our guesthouse were food vendors, where, in the dry August heat, men sold fire-baked bread.  The one pictured is similar to naan, but much thicker and sprinkled with sesame, onion, and spices.  Locals eat it as a snack, or use it to pull off bits of spicy lamb from a sizzling pork kebab.

At the time of our visit, it was Ramadan, and our guesthouse asked us to refrain from eating or drinking on the streets.  As such, we had to buy food and slink away, like little street urchins, to dark corners to take sips from our water bottles and to nibble on snacks. It was over 100 degrees, an unforgiving dry heat.  If I didn't eat, I would surely pass out.

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.

Naked Tomato Sauce

It seems all I can think about these days, apart from the shady crackdown on my NGO and writing the research report, is food. Maybe I'm seeking comfort in small pleasures.

This weekend, I was very sick with tummy issues. That's quite common in these parts, and my Khmer colleagues will note, quite frequently with the shaking of their heads and a slight chuckle, that barang (foreigner) stomachs are weak.

It is generally true. There was a period this summer when my office stocked Anna the Swedish-Russian lawyer, 1 American law student, and 1 Canadian law student. It was as if the three did rotations getting sick from food and/or the environment. I don't mean to make light of the issue, but it is just a reality of life here. Strangely, I have never come across so many issues when eating street food in Thailand or in Vietnam. Nor did I encounter any issues eating in Kazakhstan or China this last month.

Poor Ethan had to deal with me. He made me toast, and we watched an old Woody Allen film, as I recouped. When you're feeling like crap and stressed out to bits, a hug from someone who cares, and a reminder of how beautiful and incredible you are work wonders. Nevermind that I don't actually believe it in moments like that.

I'm feeling better today. I'm going to make this for lunch. Simple tomato sauce via Smitten Kitchen. I like the idea of a pared down tomato sauce and the claim that it requires no cheese was enough to bait me. I used the same ingredients in the iteration I made last week -- actually this recipe uses less ingredients! The process is, however, slightly different. I wonder if it will make a difference.

Drama and Kittens

I think that sums up life lately.

I haven't even been able to digest the rest of my Silk Roads trip because as soon as--and, really, before--I arrived back in Cambodia, news of the shady NGO crackdown came my way. Unfortunately, the whole thing did not blow over while I was away. An organization with whom we've worked very closely to monitor and research the Railways Project has been suspended under the pretext of the new NGO law, which itself is set to place egregious limits on freedom of expression. Our organization is also under the gun, and my research activities have been frozen since my departure in late July. It simply boggles my mind.

Some updates and news here, here, here, and here.

Somehow, as this drama continues to unfold, I've found some peace and quiet. Vivian's 3 kittens, all ginger and energy, continue to terrorize the house. They get into our wardrobes, though they prefer Heather's over mine. Their pitter-patter resounds off the wooden floors all hours of the night.

Ethan and I spent last night making tomato sauce from scratch, in an attempt to salvage the huge bag of basil that was quickly languishing in my fridge. We watched Midnight in Paris.

Glimpses from Almaty, Kazakhstan

It turns out I could not access blogger from either Kazakhstan or China. And so I am going to have to reconstruct my trip from the bits and pieces of memory that haven't already been erased and the few pictures I was able to take.

Almaty is a pleasant city. The connotations of post-Soviet structures -- which I associate with memories of central Russia and Mongolia (and which I secretly crave), which Ethan associates with his layover in Kyiv, Ukraine -- didn't hold up. The city was quaint, with a walking boulevard and park running through it and so much green space. With the exception s of the hookers calling our hotel room, my interactions with locals were lovely, and everyone we met was helpful and warm.

I'm pretty horrible at capturing the big tourist sites (i.e., I am lazy), and I much prefer capturing daily life that strike me on my wanderings in the city. And that is what we did.

Some highlights:

1. One day, we wandered around the city and came across Panfilov Heroes Memorial Park, a memorial to World War II -- and quite the place for newlyweds to take pictures. That day, we counted at least 10 wedding entourages traipsing through the park. That day was a taste of summer, as I remember it: melting ice cream, walking in the park, flowers, trees, a bright, warm day.
2. To beat the heat that day, we stopped at a small fountain with a view of the snow-capped Almaty Mountains and dipped our feet in the cold water.
   
3. On another day, after our plan to see the theatre was curbed, we walked up to the hill, past the golden gilded mosque, to sample a view of the city and to have a picnic. Prior to the walk, we raided the local grocery store and bought beet salad (yum), a local cheese (not so yum), freshly baked, dark brown bread, cookies, and a bottle of red wine. We found a bench, had our picnic, read our books, took a nap.
4. Our hotel was what one would call "Soviet chic" - drab, chintzy, full of tschotskes and non-functioning, seemingly superfluous fixtures.
5. The local grocery store: camel milk, lots of Kazakhstan candies, dark brown bread, and being reprimanded by staff for taking pictures.
   

On the move.

via Fabien09 flickr

Within the last 2 days before my departure, my computer crashed, aking with it all my files , including a massive document I was attempting to complete. Also my camera is on the fritz. Oh luck.

In any case, I'm making my way to Almaty, Kazakhstan to meet Ethan. While I am super excited to see Kazakhstan, I am equally excited to see Xinjiang province, China, especially Kashgar, which I've been told has a massive, colorful bazaar. I'm hoping to find some nice textiles there.

This three/four week vacation is needed. Cambodia is too intense right now. I need a bit of breathing and thinking room. I feel as if I'm becoming pessimistic.

Last week, a friend, who I met in Mongolia two years ago, wrote to me. He gave me an update on his life, what has transpired in the past two years since our intense chat. He asked what came of my decision to try human rights lawyering in Asia.

Wow. I can't believe how much my life has changed in that period of time.

Distractions tonight

via shoppingsmycardio

So it's been a really rough week or so. But, meh, I leave Cambodia for over 3 1/2 weeks on Tuesday. Maybe, just maybe, I'll come back to quieter, safer times. Crossing my fingers.

I have an evening in Bangkok, followed by a few long layovers in Chinese cities, as I slowly move West, until I finally make it to Almaty - from which I will then travel back into China, into Xinjiang province and, more interesting to me, Uighur territory.

Somehow, Kazakhstan and Western China don't exactly conjure up my shopping jones, but I can wish. My eye candy tonight: Swedish Hasbeens and these little wallets and bags, spotted by Becki. Lovely.

Checking in

via Seat 61

It's been a stressful week or so. There's so much I wish I could write, and I eventually will, but for now I cannot. Let's just say there's some "shady Cambodian political stuff" that is seriously impeding my work, including my research. Sometimes, you stare out at all the saffron-robed monks and the decaying French colonial buildings in this city, and you are lulled into forgetting that this place, in reality, is fairly closed. There is very little democratic space to do high-impact work.

On a lighter note, my friend, Jeanice, is in town for a few days. It's a bit surreal, her sitting with me in the tuk-tuk as we navigated the evening in Phnom Penh. It almost feels like two of my worlds colliding. But her arrival comes at a perfect time -- I need a friend to vent to, someone who knew me before Cambodia, before the whirlwind of work here.

Other things: Ethan is having a wonderful time in Europe, as can be expected. We meet in Almaty, Kazakhstan next week!! I cannot wait.

And . . . Vivian, the cat who adopted us, give birth to 3 orange tabby kittens in the corner shelf, in Clarisse's room. They are small, and furry, and already I am smitten.

Life is very full these days.