Washing Feet

The most frequently asked question in all four Gospels just might be the most beautiful question ever: “What do you want me to do for you?” When God came to earth he didn’t demand to be waited on, but waited on tables himself and built houses and washed feet. He was a servant who was eager to serve all people. This is how I felt while staying at the yoga studio; all I wanted to do was serve the people around me and show them love. One night my friend Jenny (who was a visiting yoga teacher and staying at the studio as well) and I sat down and put a little something together –

Me: I’ve been thinking. I kinda want to wash everyone’s feet at the studio.
Jenny: Hmm. Yeah, I’ve been trying to think of something nice to do for everyone too. But just wash their feet? We should give them a foot massage!
Me: Do you know how to do that? I’m pretty sure I suck at it.
Jenny: They’ll love it! What should we call it?
Both of us: — Ahhh! Foot Massage at NataRaj!

So that’s exactly what we did. First we washed their feet with the most delicate and deliberate touch, and then gave them the best 15 minute foot massage money can’t buy. We had cold cucumber water, cookies and relaxing music. We dropped everything to love everyone and it was beautiful…

Our precious little Sochea who is pregnant and does all the house cleaning.

Sochea’s mom who also helps with the house cleaning and maintenance.

Lita, Li Ya and Nich who come from Transitions and are always busy teaching yoga therapy to the community and shelter homes for survivors of trafficking, helping out with the Krama NGO, teaching kids yoga, going to English classes and helping their families.

Vannac, Kimly, Piseth and Phary who work tirelessly for the NGO, teach yoga classes to the community and the public, go to school and support their families.

Little Maki who runs a macrobiotic lunch box delivery business and is always on the go with her sore, tired little feet.

Washing and massaging everyone’s feet was for me an experience of unity with God. And it’s interesting because Yoga, in Sanskrit, can be translated as “union.” To find union – between mind and body, between the individual and God. And that’s exactly what this act of love, humility and willing vulnerability was for me: A celebration of love, joy, peace, kindness and gentleness.

Yoga Family

Before leaving on this trip, there were at least three things I promised myself I would not do:

1) No eating weird meat i.e. ginny pig, fried cockroaches, rat, etc.
2) No cliff diving
3) No neglecting of “me time”

The first is simply because eating insects and rodents makes no sense to me and it’s just straight up gross. The second is because I’m still recovering from the fear of that time in Hawaii when I jumped off a cliff, lost my bathing suit bottoms and had a ‘tidal wave bidet’ situation happen to my rear. And the third is because it’s easy for me to forget about taking time for myself, especially when traveling and always moving from place to place.

So for the last twenty-some days, I’ve planted myself in Cambodia’s capitol of Phnom Penh to live at a yoga studio (NataRaj) and practice being still through prayer and quieting the mind. I promised myself I would treat this studio as my sanctuary; a place to become centered, calm and peaceful. And that’s exactly what happened. That and so much more.

After the first day I found out that my new sanctuary was not only NataRaj yoga, but a partner of Transitions Global, the organization that Shaun and I were volunteering with that helps trafficked women ‘transition’ to a new life. Back in 2008 the owner of NataRaj, Isabelle Skaburskis assisted by local Cambodian Yan Vannac, started teaching yoga classes to the girls at Transitions as a method of trauma therapy. The classes were such a huge success that by 2010 the training evolved into an organized apprenticeship program geared specifically to the needs of Cambodians from underpriviledged backgrounds, and came to include outreach classes taught by the apprentices for up to 250 kids across five other organizations. With the help of Isabelle, Vannac and James (the founder of Transitions) the apprentices consolidated their independent status as a Cambodian-run NGO called Krama Yoga. Today, three girls that graduated from Transitions are yoga teachers at NataRaj and have sustainable employment where they get paid to teach yoga therapy to 350+ children and teenagers that live in impoverished villages, orphanages, low-income schools and trauma recovery shelters around Phnom Penh.

Living here and being part of the Krama Yoga family has taught me that yoga is so much more than pretzel-like exercises for the body or trying to become bendier than our neighbors. Yoga is a type of therapy that helps to recognize how trauma manifests itself in the body and how to look at our scars with sensitivity and awareness. I’ve become friends with the girls that graduated from Transitions and that are now teachers here at the studio and within the community. Despite the physical scars, none of them are emotionally broken anymore. Yoga has enabled them to find peace and healing, to reclaim ownership of their bodies; to find union between mind and body, between their thoughts and the source of those thoughts.

Teaching yoga allows the girls to give back and serve others out of their pain. They can empathize with children and teens who have suffered similar trauma and help them heal. When I went with Li Ya to a kids yoga class she had them stand in two lines, facing eachother. One by one we would take turns walking down the middle of the two lines with our eyes closed. The kids in line would have to whisper something nice about the person with their eyes closed. Something like:

you are beautiful
you are kind
you are loved
I like your spots (that one was for the freckles)

I will never forget my time here at NataRaj and feel truly blessed to have such strong, beautiful new friends who are leaders in the community and empower others to live healthy, peaceful lives.

NOT LOOKING AWAY

On the first page of my journal, on the day we first left the country, I wrote the words, “Don’t look away.” because I wanted this trip to be about making a difference and doing what it takes to stop injustice. So far we’ve engaged in small acts like giving food to the hungry, petitioning for the people in Nepal and protesting the military in Burma. We are now in Cambodia and I’m down to the very last page of my journal where I’ve written these same words again except this time it’s, “DON’T LOOK AWAY!” in big bold letters and ink-smudged from my tears. I guess you could say Cambodia is making a difference to my story as well…

I’m sitting on a public bench in the popular riverside district of Phnom Penh. During the day this is where hundreds of tourists are having lunch with their kids, shopping at the markets, touring the temples and taking pleasant walks along the river. It’s 9:30 at night and the tourist scene has changed from family friendly to dark dance clubs outlined in red lights with names like 69 bar and hearts of darkness.

My bench is across the street where I watch foreign men of all shapes and sizes walk into these camouflaged brothels. Every time the door opens I can see young girls (too young) inside dressed up like dolls in small, revealing outfits. Every time the door closes a new tear falls into my lap. My soul is weeping for these girls as I think about the night they are about to have. I pour out my anger and sadness to God with questions… Why is this happening? Why am I sitting here and not running in there to help these girls? As I continue to look into the darkness of these brothels, my soul yearns for life to be better; for light to shine in the darkness; for these girls to be rescued and restored and for them to have a new story.

In Cambodia an estimated 40,000 to 60,000 young girls are forced sex workers. Of those, the average age of a survivor is 15 years old. Many girl’s lives are decimated through the horror of being sexually, physically, and emotionally abused and they have little to no hope for a future, for a new story. There is a dire need for quality aftercare services that can restore hope to these precious young girls.

My friend Brad Riley of iEmpathize told me about James and Athena Pond before our trip started and that they would be in Cambodia the same time we would be. The Pond’s have committed their lives to making a difference in the lives of these girls that have been rescued from sex-trafficking. In 2007 they established a non-profit organization called Transitions Global. Transitions provides trauma recovery to girls between the ages of 13-18 years old who have been sexually exploited or abused and then assists them with re-integrating back into society. Shaun and I have volunteered to photograph their aftercare programs here in Phnom Penh and in doing so we’ve witnessed hope for a future and new beginnings for these girls as healthy, independent adults.

One of their programs is called the Dream Home where the girls live in a safe, secure family environment with house moms, social workers and even a Nintendo Wii for some ‘Little Big Planet’ fun. Each girl receives personalized care to heal from her past while acquiring life, social and career skills as well. James says, “recovery starts with simple choices, like letting the girls pick what color toothbrush they want to use or what clothes they want to wear that day.” We photographed the girls at cooking class where they worked together, learning how to prepare traditional Khmer dishes while wearing adorable aprons and chef hats. We sat in the classroom as they learned English, computer skills and video editing. We went skateboarding and fell in love with their energy, happiness and friendship for one another. We watched as they would fall off the boards and get right back up with smilies on their faces. It was amazing to see how strong and resilient the girls were; rather than letting failure overcome them, they recovered like champs and tried again.

Creative acts of recovery and restoration is what Transitions is doing to make a difference in the lives of young girls that have experienced significant trauma. They have chosen to live a story that helps others heal and have a future. The truth is, if what we choose to do with our lives won’t make a story meaningful, it won’t make a life meaningful either. And being in Cambodia, watching the staff of Transitions help in creating new stories for these girls, well… it has inspired me to live a life that has meaning and makes a difference: A life that doesn’t look away.

You can read more about Transitions Global by clicking this link to visit their website.

Learning to Love Travel Day

This is a little something I wrote a while ago (before Cambodia) that I forgot to post. But with Shaun in transit to Thailand and friends flying around for work… I figured it was time. Enjoy!

Learning To Love Travel Day: The first few months of this trip have given us a mantra, a thing we say to ourselves almost more than any other thing. It’s a cliche phrase, the kind of thing that sports coaches and stock brokers say when they’re being interviewed by local papers, but that doesn’t hinder its curative powers for us. It works. It also happens to be a good conversation ender, because it always gives another chatty traveller the chance to let out a hearty, knowing laugh as we say goodbye and walk out on a high note. This is it:

It’s a good problem to have.

Even when we’re sitting still for a week on a beach somewhere, there’s almost always a list of logistical issues we need to resolve, a raft of small decisions that seem so much larger and more interconnected than they really are. Phone calls to make, guest houses to choose, flights to book, international ATMs to find, pharmacies to visit. And then when it’s time to move to a new place, it’s always an exhausting day of negotiating taxis, settling arguments between ourselves, and navigating the functional chaos of bus stations, ferry terminals and airports. It’s all just the mundane details of life and travel, but with new language barriers and weird security procedures every 25-30 days. It’s easier than you’d expect, getting wrapped up in the petty hassles, or even just the anticipated hassles, which is absurd given of our good fortune in being on a trip like this. We’re aware, and we’re slowly letting go of the stresses associated with travel day, because we know they’re all good problems to have. Who cares if we got ripped off on this crappy hotel room with the guy passed out in the hall and napkins for bath towels tonight, tomorrow we’re flying to Cambodia. And we only have about an hour to learn how to intelligibly say “hello” and “thank you” and “does this have any meat in it?” and “I don’t know, I just keep vomiting,” in a new local language. Tick tock.

Celebrating Six Months

We officially passed the six-month mark on Monday, January 21. A week before that, Shaun stayed in Siem Reap to continue photographing the temples while I ventured out on my own to Phnom Penh to start my three week serving project where I’ve been living with survivors of trafficking. Shaun has since joined me to help the anti-trafficking NGO photograph their work and we are truly humbled to be apart of such an amazing group of everyday advocates that restore girls who have been exploited and victimized in unbelievable ways.
More stories and information on the NGO hopefully to come.

A recent look at our budget and the steadily, sometimes rapidly diminishing balance in our bank account suggests that without some modifications and careful planning, we might not make it through a full nine months. On the other hand, we’re still fiercely addicted to this adventure and the idea of re-entering conventional life is as upsetting as an overnight Burmese bus ride without seatbelts or earplugs. If you’ve been following us since day one, you’ll be just as surprised as we are to know that it’s been eight months since we left our lives in Boulder; seven months since we tentatively left the comforting love of family and friends in America (see pic).

It’s fair to say that we did a lot of adjusting to the cultural shock of Asia during that first month in Nepal, a lot of wondering how we would ever survive India (the mother of all chaos and exhaustion). After much prayerful consideration we decided we weren’t ready for India and headed to Burma instead which turned out to be rich with photo opps, colorful new friends and friendly locals.

So we face different challenges now, mostly in making the trip actually last a full nine months and then eventually, coming to terms with the end of it. Even though it’s still months away, we’ve recently made some decisions about our final months and it feels closer than ever. I’ve decided to extend my stay in Cambodia and Shaun has decided to go back to Thailand meaning we will be skipping over Laos. It wasn’t the easiest decision, but I’ve fallen in love with my house church here and I wouldn’t be able to enjoy Laos with my heart still in Cambodia. Shaun feels the same way about Thailand so we will part ways again until Feb. 12th when we leave Asia for our final destinations: Australia and New Zealand. We’ve got a full itinerary for the Down Undah which includes spending a week with family in Perth, drinking champagne under the stars in Uluru, touring around Sydney for a week and ending in Queenstown. The best part of all this will be having the much anticipated company of my best friend Christina from Baltimore, who not only loves champagne as much as me but also has the same passion for camel riding and sheep shearing. Crikey I can’t wait! Shaun and I will finish exploring New Zealand in the Fiordland National Park the first of April. The wild rainforest and endless waterfalls of Milford Sound is going to feel wonderful while we contemplate our return, but for now we celebrate six months or –

26 weeks
182 days
4 million hours

of being nomads.

HOORAY!

French Leftovers

French Leftovers: France Was Here, Cambodia, Laos, Vietnam – the colony protectorate of Indochina – and it left behind more than just a few thousand chilly, well-dressed expats. French culture still coats these places like sugar glacé, though it begins to melt as soon as you venture outside the city. The sensation of waking up in an old French guesthouse in Phnom Penh (above) and walking downstairs for an Asian breakfast of noodle soup and tea is one of the peculiar delights of life in this part of the world. The urban architecture is 1920s Paris, rows of tall, narrow shop-houses pocked with balconies facing grand boulevards and elegant river promenades. Cambodian women diligently push huge carts of fresh baguettes, perfectly crisp and chewy, down rugged potholed roads. Pronunciation of English words takes on a French accent and ay-bee-cee becomes ah-bey-cey. As it turns out, French language fluency is common among older Cambodians, and I must look more French-like with the gypsy (Shaun) not next to me because it’s not uncommon for some smiling local to approach me and ask if I parlez Francais.

Cambodian Man: Bonjour! Parlez vous Francais?
Me: —- Uhhhhh, un poco. No wait that’s Spanish. Un peu?
Cambodian Man: Ah, a little!
Me: —- Well no, actually. Not really. Just a few words. Merci beaucoup… Bon appetit… Je m’appelle…
Cambodian Man: (With a disappointed look on his face) Au revoir.

Apparently my version of “a little” French is how you get Cambodian locals to run away from you. I think it best I just stick with English from now on.

Asian Markets

Asian Markets: Cambodia has tons of these. Food stalls, piles of beautiful fresh produce and the shiniest knick-knacks always ring the outside of the market, between dark, anonymous entryways scattered here and there. Inside, it’s a disorienting labyrinth of sharp sounds, pungent smells and bright colors (despite the lack of natural light) – nothing is dull in an Asian market. There are certainly no price tags, not much English, but there is lots of yelling and playful banter and women napping on soft piles of new t-shirts during the hottest part of the day; don’t ask them to wake up, because why on earth are you shopping during the hottest part of the day? Foreigner. To our mega-mall eyes, these markets look like attractive nonsense when in fact, there’s method and order that’s obvious to everyone local. We’re finally starting to get it. Motorcycle parts next to fine silk textiles next to a makeshift beauty parlour next to a guy chopping blocks of ice with a machete next to stalls selling pirated DVDs of movies that haven’t even finished filming yet. How do they even do that? Doesn’t matter, just go with it, get your hair cut while sitting on a milk crate, buy a handful of flowers you’ll never pronounce the name of and talk down the price of a new antique-NO WAY! THAT GUY JUST KILLED A CHICKEN WITH HIS HANDS, WE GOTTA TURN AROUND AND, hey they’re selling silver pretty cheap down this aisle, let’s go check that out. Everyone likes a little something silver. Two for ten? Two for seven.

Seven-fifty.

Deal.

The Temples of Angkor

The Temples of Angkor: Highlight, highlight, highlight. Like the Taj Mahal in India, there is no sight in Cambodia as iconic as the ancient Buddhist and Hindu temples of the Angkor civilization. Images of Angkor Wat, the most well known of all the temples, are printed everywhere – national flags, beer cans and cigarette packs, t-shirts, political signs, taxi dashboards. The temples attract hoardes of religious pilgrims and tourists alike, although the latter in much greater numbers for most of the year. We joined them and took three full, sweaty days to make our own tour. The buildings themselves, spread across many square miles, are astonishing and beautiful in different ways. Some have undergone heavy restoration to recapture their full 1,000 year old grandeur. Some have absurdly steep and dangerous stair-climbs to the top. Some are choked with tourists streaming from tour buses and some are inhabited only by chirping birds and a lone, crumbling Buddha statue like in Bagan. Some encourage Shaun’s knack for photograhy and some have hidden troupes of musicians that enhance the mystique of the experience. Still others have been left in their natural state, swallowed and strangled by trees with roots like giant pythons. Of the dozens of sites we visited, those that have been left to the mercy of the jungle were most captivating to our eyes. Silk Cotton and Strangler Fig trees take root in the sandstone roof cracks, growing down and weaving thin roots through the masonry of temples, libraries and palaces. As the trees grow, their roots wedge the building’s blocks apart until the tree becomes a part of the building, consuming it, supporting it, lending it organic life. Eventually, as the tree is felled by storm or disease, the temple dies with it, leaving only moss covered rubble. Angkor is one of those rare earth places where every element of life, death, nature, humanity and divinity converge around you, and you can’t help but feel changed and so profoundly fortunate to be there. We’re still in nearby Siem Reap and we miss it already.