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.

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.

On Privilege

Early days in Cambodia, on one of the monitoring trips

No one told me the early months of motherhood would be this difficult. I simply had no clue.  But we're adjusting to sleep deprivation and slowly a routine - a new normalcy - is emerging. And with that difficulty, there's also a lot of joy, which helps.

My mornings - just when M falls back asleep and the light is out - are precious moments for me, minutes when I am (relatively) awake and I can think about things other than feedings, the daycare search, minutes that I can waste on thoughts of autumn layers and flat boots, on the world that existed before motherhood.

This morning, I thought of the string of emails I received - actually, just as I was in labor!  They were from two families of Vietnamese Montagnard refugees I worked with in Bangkok.  Fleeing from religious persecution in Vietnam, they made their way to Cambodia first, then Thailand, where they would settle (illegally, as with all refugees in Thailand).  Theirs was a story that went back 7 years, with numerous rejections of refugee status by the UN, detention in Bangkok, release, and then the precarious life of a refugee not being able to lawfully live/work in their country of refuge.  Extortion by police is not uncommon. I had helped with a re-opening request to the UN (the third one, as their files had been closed), and the day of the email, they had finally received their refugee certificates.

It was such fantastic news.  I could imagine their faces and those of the children.

When I left Bangkok, there were others whose cases were still pending.  I didn't write about their stories then because it felt so close.  I still think about the Iranian man, detained in jail for political activities, tortured, raped. He was seeking an appeal. Did he ever get it?  I think often about the Muslim Pakistani woman forced to have an abortion by her tribe because she fell in love with and married a Christian.  What became of her?  And what of the woman from Cameroon, who fled her country with her daughter who faced genital mutilation?  The Palestinians displaced from their refugee camps in Syria, who bought a visa to Thailand not knowing how long it would take to be recognized as refugees and how arduous daily life could be in Thailand for a family waiting out resettlement?

One of the things that struck me in my travels was just how privileged I was to be an American citizen.  In Cambodia, on monitoring trips where arrest was possible, I knew that my passport would provide a level of protection. Same thing when I was in Burma on one of those frequent middle-of-the-night military checkpoints, where you're scooted off the bus and required to stand in line to be interrogated.  In the international work travel that is sure to follow this fall or winter, I will be working on human rights issues in difficult contexts, again with the protection of my passport. 

And, I'm aware this privilege came at no cost to me, really. My grandfather was the one who made the journey in the 1920s. He was alone, 16 years old. He toiled as a migrant worker until his retirement. Once a US citizen, he went back to the Philippines, where I was ultimately born.  For me, it was never a question of "if" but "when" I would move to the US to claim my citizenship.

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.

WTF

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According to a report from the International Labour Organization, only three countries do not mandate paid maternity leave: Oman, Papua New Guinea, and ... the United States! 

This is a constant topic of discussion, as I work with a fair number of European and Australian colleagues who never fail to point out, with a look of pity as their eyes sweep over my expanding midriff section, that US maternity leave sucks.  "Oh, no, " one German colleague recently said, lips puckered in dismay, "I guess you'll be back working in the fall.  In Germany, my colleague x has been on maternity leave for almost a year."

I'm baffled by how women in America balance it all.

Muumuu fever

It's partly due to my growing belly (I can hardly fit into anything else I own these days), but I can easily find a reason to wear a loose, flowy dress.  Ethan's been murmuring that I look very "Earth Mother" lately, not quite a compliment in his book. But I don't care.

March/April Acquisitions: failure, utter failure.

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Here I go trying to keep myself accountable again.  March and April were plagued by some very impactical, emotionally-driven impulse buys, some of which I regret.  I'm not even going to list everything I purchased, though I'll note a few.

But first, a word on my crazy emotions these days: I blame the pregnancy. It's exacerbated a vicious buying cycle. I see something I like. I order it online. I try it on.  Ugh--not great on me.  I'm left unsatisfied.  I see something I like. I buy it. I try it on... and this repeats and snowballs.

I didn't realize how difficult it could be to dress in the morning, particularly on those days when I have a meeting and I need to look semi-put together.  For the past 6+ months, I was able to get by with my trusty, old DVF wrap dresses and a blazer, but even those pieces are now too short and ill-fitted. 

Some of my purchases -

• I was given birthday money by my lovely mother-in-law to buy maternity clothes, so I bought "maternity boots," the IM Dickers to be exact. (Ethan calls foul.) I've been reluctant to purchase these boots as they had such a cult following and are super expensive. But the heel is low, the shape is sleek, and I can see myself walking around the city in these shoes. I also bought them discounted. I do love my Mars boots, but I want less of a heel these days.
• Sézane jacket.  I like being able to touch fabrics and try on cuts before purchasing, but I took a gamble with Sézane by Morgane Sézalory, a French line I'm obsessed with.  I purchased a jacket (pictured above), fully ready to return it if it was of shoddy quality.  Alas, it was gorgeous - of high quality and a nice, sleek cut. Nevermind that pregnancy has caused me to gain weight in strange places (hello, meaty shoulders); I do think it's a piece I'll cherish.
• Ace & Jig tea dress and the domino check reversible robe.  The practical buy was the reversible robe, which I wear several times a week, including right now actually.  I want to wear the tea dress (pictured above; I am a sucker for open backs), but again it's one of those pieces that, while I can squeeze into it, is not the best fit for my current state. 
• Hatch maternity airplane dress - This was a practical buy.  It's massive on my frame (or once was), but it's a piece I can throw on as my belly grows. 
• Emerson Fry caftan -  I know I must stay away from muumuus, but this piece makes the California girl in me happy.  Plus, I have a trip to California later this month and some days in Malibu, so there.

What I should have bought:

• Storq pieces.  Despite the pieces being reasonably priced, I'm nonetheless relucant to spend $65 on a tube skirt.  Also, I wonder about the quality.  But then I see images like this and I realize I could easily use this piece.  Same reluctance about the Storq dress.

 via Helena Price

Some things never change.

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Like the fact that, despite (and maybe because) life circumstances change, there will always be a major part of me aching to travel and/or live abroad.

And beautiful white lace blouses are a requisite uniform for warmer weather.  (This one, along with other wares at Myth & Symbol, is 15% off with code: SPRING. Until April 22nd at least.)

Today: On Sezane, human rights lawyering, and wearing lipstick.

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I can tell the crazy weeks of planning and meetings are over because just as soon as I stepped out of the office of a certain Middle Eastern/North Africa delegation, out went thoughts of human rights and international law. What came rushing in were thoughts of Spring: cotton/linen dresses from Ace & Jig; bright sandals that have been hiding in my closet; and this collection from Sezane, a French label that I have yet to try out.

Growing up in southern California, I, like many others, was taught to appreciate certain material possessions. At the same time, I remember gleaning the message that serious, substantial women do not patently relish makeup and beautiful clothes.

This messaging--that smart women do not spend time gushing over beautiful clothing--has somehow continued in my current line of work.  What I find refreshing is that I meet more and more amazing women who dispel this notion all together. That struck me this week, as I was surrounded by international human rights lawyers, many wearing gorgeous frocks and bright lips.  It made my heart sing.

In my previous life in Portland in corporate law, I remember meeting a woman who harkened back to her early years as a lawyer.  Then, she recalled, she had to play down her femininity, opting for masculine wear that demonstrated that she was "one of the boys."  She commented quizzically on how the times had changed, how young female lawyers were now so "free" to look "so feminine."

I could go on and on, as this messaging really peeves me, though I ought to be getting ready for work. These days, I am thinking more about femininity and what values I will pass on to my daughter.  I'll save that for another post.

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.

Ace & Jig

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I keep telling myself that listing out the items I've bought each month will keep my spending habits in check, will keep me accountable. But I haven't really bought much this month. To be exact, I've purchased one clothing item - this Ace & Jig houndstooth tee, deeply discounted at Mohawk General Store. It's an impractical buy in some ways because it won't keep me cozy when the snow is falling outside (which has been happening more of late).  But I can't help it. I will always gravitate towards non-winter clothes.

Before I left Cambodia, I made a number of silk dresses, gorgeous replications of some of my favorite wardrobe staples - all for my future life Stateside.  The vast majority of those pieces were lost in the stolen luggage debacle, but I realize now that every single one of those pieces was meant for summer days - some being litttle wisps of silk that I'd probably only wear in the hottest of August days. 

With the exception of my occasional daydream of hanging out in the Colorado mountain house, I don't dream of thick coats or fuzzy sweaters (though I'm grateful for these things these days).  I don't dream of winter. 

Maybe I'm just hardwired to always want/hope for tropical or at least perpetual summer weather.

A new month.

I took this picture while taking a walk in NYC in late October.  I geeked out a little on that trip because it was my first time having a meeting at the UN headquarters - to date, I've only been in regional offices. I remember the October air being crisp, whipping my hair across my face.

While in NYC, I was able to catch up with one of my oldest friends, Jason, who lives in Williamsburg.  A southern California transplant (like myself), he is mesmerized by the city, its energy, the constant pace.  We ate dinner at his favorite Argentinian restaurant, during which he chided me (and Ethan) for not visiting him sooner and now only because work required it.  Afterwards, we had drinks while we admired the skyline. The city glittered.  I remembered how, as a child, I was always drawn to this place.

That was October.

Then, November came, knocking me off my feet.  There were a string of tragedies, in varying sizes, each one toppling me over, chipping away at me bit by bit.  The collective effect was not good.

But that's life, isn't it?  Horrible months like November make me realize how lucky I am to be able to dabble in all the frivolous crap I often enjoy - lately, my searches for Mayle dresses, Erin Considine necklaces, and Dieppa Restrepo boots, my constant daydreams about travel.  But I don't feel guilty for these silly thoughts and musings.  They're privileges, markers of lighter days.

It's a new month.

Just things

It's important to take note of little pleasures. Here are a few I'm currently enjoying:

1. Old shoes.
2. Piles of red leaves.
3. My weekend walks.
4. My Object & Totem necklace (i.e., part of my uniform these days).

Let's go camping.

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The last few days, I have had the strongest urge to go camping, to drive out of this city and to wake up to open spaces, green trees, crisp air, quiet.  The funny thing is I'm not much of a camper (Ethan is), and the last time and place I camped was in a dinosaur park in Mongolia, surreptitiously, under the autumn sky, several years and a lifetime ago.

On the week

What is it with this week?  There was the Washington Navy Yard shooting, all of four miles from where I was sitting in my office, oblivious to the news until I received several text messages and calls.  Then there is the flooding in Colorado, close to Ethan's family, who are fine. And how could I forget the veritable war zone in Zamboanga, where my father's family lives and I visited in March??? 

I don't even want to get into my thoughts on the shooting in DC and how, as an American living abroad, I would get so enraged when news of shooting after shooting after shooting would filter through the international channels. 

It's been a strange week.  I might even say it's been a bad week.

Compounding all the weirdness is the current pace of work in this city, the meetings upon meetings, scheduled and re-scheduled, with little notice, and  the realization that I am going to have to maneuver the politics of international law (as in, how the U.S. takes or doesn't take positions on these things).  I love this field of law.  I know I'm fortunate to be able to make a living doing this work.  But some days, I feel as if I'm hitting a wall.  It's this city, this process that I'm learning to navigate.

Recognizing that wall, I decided to work from home today.  I am playing music, procrastinating in my pajamas and enjoying a hot cup of Stumptown coffee.  Funny thing is, I could totally do all that in my office (yes, even the pajamas if I needed to.)   I need to take it slow because October will be busy.

On my list of priorities today are: (1) drafting some language on some submission on international climate stuff; (2) a call with my boss (who is based in the Netherlands but currently traveling around Switzerland for conferences); and (3) maybe a quick walk to Whole Foods for a slice of pie.

Update:  This song and video is lifting my mood a little. I haven't listened to a Shugo Tokumaro song in ages.

Paperbag memories

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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.

Morning thoughts: Istanbul

Today, I find myself jet-lagged, in the District, looking over pictures of Istanbul, and craving a meal of feta and roasted eggplant for breakfast. 

Habits, pt. 1

For those days when I don't have to attend a meeting that requires dressing up, I have reverted to a work uniform, which takes most thought out of dressing: same old shoes, same necklace (more or less), and either a dress/shift or rolled up jeans and a top.  The last photo is of a shift I made during my last Cambodian tailor trip. I found the silk, just two and a half yards, at my favorite Toul Tumpong (Russian Market) stall.

My first day at work, my boss took me to coffee and, as he went over the obligatory introduction to the organization and human resources policies, I asked about dress code.  He said, "We don't care what you look like at work. We only care about your brain."

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...

To start the week.

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