Short visits

My father came to visit me in Cambodia starting on Sunday afternoon; he left today, mid-day on Wednesday. It was wonderful to have him here, but terribly short. It was the first time he had been outside of North America (i.e the US and Canada) in 35 years. I told him that I was proud of him for traveling outside of the US. He said he was happy to come and that he was proud of me and the work I was doing.

If I were starting international travels, Cambodia would not be the place I would start. Tourism infrastructure is great. My Dad and his friend got to stay at my hotel. We ate somewhat luxurious meals and hired a driver to take us to see the Angkor Temple. The counterpoint to that is Cambodia itself is quite poor. The people have low incomes; general infrastructure like electricity, roads, and water are usually non-exsistent; and for many the prospects for the future are sparse.



If you can get past that, Cambodians will amaze you. They are hard-working people, with seemingly indefagitable spirits. Furthermore, the smiles of old and young alike welcome any foreigner who searches it out.

My father got to see this aspect of Cambodia. I can't say for sure how he would describe the experience, other than to say it was impacting. When we returned to the hotel he described our visit as emotional, which I find meaningful for a man who is usually reserved.

Our first visit took us to Puok district, which is a very poor district in Cambodia. I had not been there before. The school we were visiting was a shock to see. Most schools are solid structures, but this was a shack protected by a few palms. Inside, one hundred and ten children patiently waited for us. They greeted us with loud, cheerful voices that made me feel like an all-star.



Our purpose there was to photograph each of the children for a few former guests who are trying to build a new school. In addition, two of the guest on the trip brought food and some school supplies for each child. The overall mood was joyous, but internally I always realize the limitations of our goodwill. I think that my father also recognized this limitation as well.




There is an incredible amount of work to be done, but limited resources and capacity to accomplish it. Furthermore, the ideals I want to see occur could take years or decades to come to fruition. Coming to this realization is often frustrating.

Likewise, my father's trip was somewhat frustrating. Having him here was wonderful, but it was a heavy reminder of all the people who are not here and that I want to see. A reminder that you cannot be in two places at once; that making a decision to do one thing means the inability to do other things.

On taking my father to the airport and saying goodbye, I felt a bit like crying. I cannot say if I felt that way because he was going or because I was staying. In truth, it does not matter. I am here and I am determined to do as much as I can.

There are a lot of smiles still to see.

Self-fulfilling

I get asked a number of questions repeatedly. I have been asked probably a couple dozen times if "in America, do you eat rice?" To which I reply, "yes, but not everyday or for every meal. Probably once or twice a week." I know why they ask the question. They are amazed that anyone could stop eating rice for many days at a time. Here, rice is a way of life.

Lately, the question I am asked is "Are you unhappy?" This is a strange question, and it puts me off balance. I am also asked "Are you happy when you go to the village?" Both these questions seem to be directed at whether or not I am enjoying myself. However, I am not sure exactly why my staff asks them.

In the US, we usually ask "How are you doing?" To which most people respond "fine." For some reason, the question "Are you happy?" gives me pause. I have to take a moment to reflect on whether I am truly happy or not.

What is odd is that I am exceptionally happy with life in general. There are only a few things which I wish to change (including romantic status). In large, I am immensely satisfied with what I do and where I am. I have a challenging job that allows me creativity and opportunity to explore the idea of improving the lives of others. I gain great satisfaction from my success, and I gain great knowledge from my mistakes and limitations. Furthermore, I enjoy my environment, the people I work with, and the privileges that come with being a somewhat wealthy foreigner.

Still, the question I have been asked is not "Are you happy?" but "Are you unhappy?" This leads me to believe that others think that I am not happy. In turn, I start to believe I may in fact be unhappy.

Like telling people that the economy is in recession, or some minority is bad at math tests, or that some one is ugly, even if these things are not true, people believe them and pretty soon they are true.

To counter this line of questioning, I have to go above saying something like "Yes, I am happy" to say something around the tune of "Actually, I have never been happier working than I am here." I can't say for sure if that is true, but it certainly feels like it. I suppose the most true answer is, I am happy for now, but I cannot say what the future will hold.