Asian Breakfast

Alaçati was hot.  It was early morning and the temperature on the small thermometer outside read 34-degrees Celsius.  I never mastered the Celsius-Fahrenheit conversion but knew once it was over 30-degrees, it was officially hot.   The front garden of the small boutique hotel had mismatched tables and chairs scattered throughout the yard.  They were painted in shades of white and blue, evoking the Mediterranean, which was the dominant culture in this part of Turkey and separated it from the more Islamic east.  The Turkish yoga instructor pointed this out to to me yesterday after savasana.  This part of Turkey identified more with the Greeks and the Mediterranean lifestyle, she said.  She also told me, “I think we have been lifelong friends.”

I was lying on a bed in the garden, having woken up early after a sleepless night due to the heat and a late Turkish coffee the night before.  I slowly sipped a cup of instant Nescafé and creamer.  I wished it was Turkish tea instead.

“You like breakfast now? Or you wait for the boyfriend?” asked the proprietor of the hotel.  He was a tall, semi-balding Turkish man in his late- thirties with pierced ears and a small tattoo peeping out from under the arm of his shirt.  He listened to a diverse collection of acid jazz and socially conscious hip-hop.  His wife dyed her hair a bright auburn color and wore sculptural jewelry.

“Oh, I think I will wait, thank you,” I replied, still sipping the Nescafé.

He returned with a refill of the Nescafé.

“I play this music just for you.  It is from your country,” he told me.

“Oh? Where is that?” I asked.

“It is from Asia.  Called Asian Breakfast.”

Asian breakfast was interesting.  It was a mixture of soft brass notes, probably alto-saxophone and some clarinet, with accents of wind instruments.  A light but steady background beat of a hollow drum made for a generally pleasant sound but I could not quite place where in Asia this belonged.  Regardless, it seemed appropriate to have Asian Breakfast in this country, the gateway between Europe and Asia.

Leiden

Autumn

2009 has been filled with non-stop traveling and working in one place for months at at time but I’ve finally settled in the charming city of Leiden for the foreseeable year.  Maybe it will be nice to settle down and get used to a certain pace of life.  However, I find myself feeling nostalgic about Cambodia and missing Asia… Korea, Japan… The first time I went to Siem Reap, I remember riding back in the late afternoon and watching the brilliant orange of the setting sun hitting the red earth and the tall palm trees in the distance.  I still feel the intense heat, smell the dust and hear the sound of the gecko waking up at 4am in my room.

Here in Europe, I am worlds away.

On my weekly walk from the Hague Central Station to class, I pass through a wide boulevard lined with tall oak trees. The weather has turned crisp and cool, signaling the start of autumn.  The leaves are in the process of changing from a vibrant green to a soft yellow and they fall from their heavenly canopy onto the ground.  They create a collage of color scattered on the earth, as the freshly fallen leaves mix with the already decaying leaves demonstrating, in a vibrant way, nature’s life cycle working its magic.  The pedestrian walkway is covered with what looks like gravel but upon closer inspection turns out to be small, broken pieces of sea shells.  They are thin, delicate and different shades of gray and white.  En masse, they create a soft, organic carpet on which I walk.  With every step, there’s a soft, audible crunch.

They say autumn is a time for reflection.  As the seasons change from carefree summer to thoughtful autumn, the human spirit slows down, takes a moment to breathe and take in the world.  I had one of those moments today on my walk. Maybe it was the chill in the air, or the sun shining brightly through the canopy, or the soft underfoot of broken shells but it made me stop for a moment to take it all in. And in that moment, there was no past or future, but only the present.  And the present was a beautiful autumn day.

Plattenbau

1 June 2009

We, Sally and I, live in a plattenbau in the former East Berlin.  Although we live in a very hip and relatively chic area, our little community of plattenbaus hold a unique charm for us and disgust for others.  These plain, utilitarian and very functional creations of the former GDR are the model for unified socialist living.  Simple, concrete walls.  Box-like structure.  I find that most of its residents are, like us, foreigners.  In our group of young, American, professional ex-pats, we lovingly refer to it as the Gips-ghetto.

Around the corner from our apartment are five small, square, bronze plaques embedded in the cobblestone sidewalk.  On each plaque is the name of a victim of the Holocaust, usually a former resident of the area who was forcibly evicted and died in one of the many concentration camps.  It is a small, unassuming reminder of history.

To the faithful

**HI** Katz!

 

**HI** Kamran!

Next? Berlin

I started this blog to keep friends and family updated on my experience in Cambodia but looks like I will continue writing and updating as I begin my next adventure in Berlin.  Stay tuned…

What is there left to say

Processing everything that happened in the past three months will take time.   There was beauty and deep meaning in the everyday, small moments.  On the other hand, there was history in the making with the start of the Duch trial on March 30th.  Life, for a short time, was filled with beautiful people, constant sensory overload, non-stop sweating and heat.  Ohh…the heat.  Here are a few of my favorite moments…

Rural homestay in Kampong Cham. I went away for my birthday weekend to Kampong Cham to do a rural homestay with a local Cambodian family.  The husband was an American ex-pat and the wife a Khmer lady from the local village.  We stayed in a small hut outside the main house and got a real taste of life in the provinces.  No electricity but luckily clean water.  We had amazing home cooked meals every day– fish amok, morning glory, beef curry, eggplant/pork speciality, the list goes on.  Took a bicycle tour through the countryside, saw fishermen, helped out with the rice harvest and almost lost my shoe in the rice paddy.  On our walk, we saw a cow that had just given birth.  Later, we watched a 70-yr old man climb down from a palm tree with palm sap in small buckets tied to his body and that palm sap was later turned into palm sugar through the aid of water buffalo dung-powered natural gas.  Tom and I were guest teachers at the afternoon English class for three junior high school students from the village.  We talked about things like, what is your favorite fruit? what is your favorite song? do you have a boyfriend?  The experience made me thankful for everything I have in life and also made the realize that life goes on, humans continue to live, with or without much.

Friends visiting. It was so nice to have Sal come to Phnom Penh and live near me.  Being in an intense environment everyday, it was medicine for my mental state to have a best friend come, see my life and live it with me.  Also having Jenny and Betty visiting was quite a treat.  Their stay in Phnom Penh was too short but we managed to do vacation-y things like having brunch, getting massages, lounging at the pool and drinks at outdoor terraces.  It was nice to have friends be witnesses to my life in Phnom Penh.  It made it seem like more of a reality. Also, to have an outside perspective on the court and the work that we are doing, however flawed it is, it is still a tremendous feat.  Ah, love to you girls! Thanks for visiting me.

Bicycles and motos. My favorite activity is riding on the back of a bicycle down the dusty streets of Phnom Penh.  The best time to engage in this activity is in the evening after most of the traffic dies down.  The pace is slow, the bike wheels squeak slightly and the metal bars of the back seat are not the best cushion but it’s the best way to travel around the city.  My second favorite form of transportation is riding on the back of a moto, negotiating the price and giving directions in Khmer.  Riding, sideways, holding onto just the metal frame under the seat, and whizzing through traffic is exhilarating and freeing.  Safety first of course and I do love wearing my bright pink moto helmet, even when the moto driver tells me I don’t need to after dark.

Favorite activities. Lounging poolside during a lazy weekend day.  Meeting friends for brunch- the Garden Center special or pancakes with yogurt and muesli at Java- before heading off for a Thai massage, at $8/hr, can’t beat it.  Did I mention my fabulous terrace?  The terrace was the place to have an after-work pastis or post-dinner dessert, and after a wild night out, a place to rest and chat.  I don’t know at what stage in life I will have another terrace as wonderful as that one and I savored every moment spent out there.   Ashtanga yoga at Nataraj studio was the best once I discovered lovely Isabelle and her level 2 class.  It reminded me of why I started yoga in the first place, it brought back memories of the tiny studio over on 24th street in the Mission and Alice, my first yoga instructor.  I surrendered to the practice and after 8 yrs, I think I finally perfected a pose or two.  Big steps in my yoga evolution.

There’s more to come…

My first hot shower since December 2008

I arrived in Seoul on Monday morning after a red-eye flight out of Phnom Penh on Sunday night.  My taxi driver, Visal, dropped me off at the airport in the evening and then called to tell me that he would miss me.  It was heartbreaking.  A bittersweet departure from Cambodia and an experience that will forever be deeply ingrained in my psyche. 

I took my first hot shower this morning.  Living in a country where at least 2 showers/day is the norm and stepping outside any air-conditioned room instantly causes sweating, I understood why my shower didn’t have warm water.  I never needed it.  Now that I’m back in a country with four seasons, the spring is beautiful and cool.  It’s nice to be back in Seoul where things are familiar and comforting but I am missing Cambodia.

Contents of my care package from Seoul

• Coffee filters
• Coffee beans
• Seaweed
• Salon pas
• Money belt
• Chocolate chip cookies
• Miso
• Seaweed soup packages
• Xylitol gum
• Chocolate Digestive cookies
• Herbal medicine for stomach aches
• Roasted barley tea
• Beef soup base
• Sesame oil

 

I love my father (and his secretary)!  

Japan!

I’m finally making my way to Kyoto and the rest of Japan in April.  Something I’ve wanted to do for the past two years is finally coming together.  All you wayward travelers, send me your Japan tips!