On confronting yourself.

Whenever you enter into a new environment, where both the people and the customs are unfamiliar to you, you will always encounter questions and discomforts about yourself. The choice to confront them and find understanding or some sort of reconciliation, well… that is entirely up to you.

Since I have been here, I have already been given many opportunities to confront myself. The physical conditions remain obvious – the weather, the bug bites, limited plumbing. Everyone says that adjustment will come with time. But beyond these current circumstances are the ones I am faced with everyday.

On the first day that I arrived in Phnom Penh, I was invited to attend a lavish, traditional Cambodian wedding in which the family that was hosting my first few days of arrival would all be participating in. Since the majority of my luggage was arriving into the city a day late, I had only a few extra shirts and other choice amenities in my carry-on – my “survival kit” that I always pack in case the baggage that I check in gets lost or something.

If you know me, you know I love to get dressed up for weddings and parties. It was a strange and humbling experience to be at this wedding only in a regular shirt, jeans and flip-flops, my hair undone and no makeup on. Not only was this my first day in this different country, I could not communicate with anyone and I was not able to blend-in in any way. Right away, my vanity was put to the test.

I then took a moment to think about what it would mean if I was able to dress like the other guests. Even if I had put on the same garments and painted my face with the same colors, I would still remain an outsider. It would not have mattered how much I could have looked like them, I still would not have been able to speak Khmer. Everyone would still know that I was a barang, a foreigner. It would not have mattered what I wore or did not wear, nothing would have changed our differences. In that moment, I had to decide to not let my awkwardness win over.

Since then, I have constantly been confronted with the challenge to accept that I am different and new to this place and culture, and to be okay with that.

The host culture is one dynamic of my experience here in Cambodia, the other is this secondary culture that surrounds the international volunteers(More on that as it unfolds, I'm sure.) Most of them are older than me both in years and worldly experience, I have been fighting the intimidation that I sometimes feel. When I was packing to come here, I had only a suitcase to bring. I had considered buying one of those traveler backpacks but upon realizing how expensive they were, it did not make sense to buy something I did not really feel like I needed, especially if I already had something that worked just the same.

When I found out that none of the other volunteers had brought such a seemingly large piece of luggage, I immediately felt shame and regret. Why had I not considered the value of investing in a backpack? Any seasoned traveler would have known. And then, I had to remember one very important thing: I am not a seasoned traveler. I have not gone out into the wilderness or embarked on a third world country before this trip. Of course what I bring will reflect who I am. And who I am is a young, 21-year old city girl from Los Angeles. But I am here, am I not? And I came on my own. I have made the choice and the journey to get to this place called Pursat in a country whose entire population barely makes up the same numbers in just the city of LA alone. Whatever I came in with, whatever limited knowledge I have about the outdoors, I have stepped out to challenge myself in these new ways. And while I have no idea if any of the other volunteers have even given a thought about my luggage, I knew I was the one being the most critical on myself.

I have always put a tremendous amount of pressure on myself to measure up to these certain ideals that I have built up. Foolishly, I had thought that three days should have been enough for me to adjust and transition into being here. When that third day came and I had only begun to experience the heat and discomforts of my bug bites, I grew frustrated with myself. I thought, If I have not already conquered these discomforts, then perhaps I do not even deserve to be here. I should stop now, turn around, and go home. Such feelings of fear and anxiety have subsided since then. But I remain like a small child, at the mercy of a new place, desperately clinging on to the will of my Father and having to recognize, at all times, that I must show grace to myself and allow for imperfection.