That brown lumpy mass on the table? Yeah, that's all my doing.

Just to clear things up, the “cheeses” referred to in my last post was in fact the area of the body commonly known as the chest. So Madrina, I hope that Mason isn’t pulling out people’s chests. That would be painful.

So at the moment I just want to say this: I love being a volunteer and love living in Cambodia. It’s a wonderful country and I am so incredibly blessed to have been placed here. I know that a lot of times when I talk to many of you it seems like I am harassed, beleaguered, and very put out by Cambodia. This is mainly because I use my phone cards to vent (Cambodia defies logic and hey, it’s dang hard to live here). This being said, I do love this country. Just today I went to the computer store because my computer chord was damaged. When I went back in to pay for the repairs I admired the necklace the service clerk was wearing. It was a golden gourd pendant on a woven chord (I collect gourd jewelry-don’t ask). After asking her where she got the pendant, I complimented her on her chord necklace and asked where she had bought that. She couldn’t remember where she got it but she promptly unhooked it, removed the pendant, and gave the woven chord to me. Just like that. I have to say I wasn’t surprised she did it. It was a true representation of Cambodian culture: the utterly open friendliness and generosity. The whole experience was a wonderful reminder of how lucky I am to being such a beautiful culture, as well as how much I have to live up to as a volunteer here because I know that I will never be able to give back as much as the Cambodian people and culture have given me.

So this week has been rather eventful. At the beginning of the week my computer chord sparked then caught on fire. Luckily being raised by a pack of wolves colloquially known as the Kibler family enabled me to respond to any impending danger with a cool calm intellect and lightning fast reflexes. In other words, I screamed words that are less than lady like and whipped the flaming appliance around till sheer wind force put it out. In a surprising move, I was actually able to get my chord fixed at a shop in Phnom Penh. All you stateside cannot appreciate how amazing this fact is but trust me, it is, and I’ve been telling every volunteer I come across and we both revel in the blessing that is my fixed computer chord.

On top of all of that I have multiple ailments going on from having a cold to having an infected mosquito bite ON MY FACE. I wish to add that those are the more socially appropriate ones, there are others that I don’t care to publish on the internet.

The other night it was pouring harder than any other time I can remember in Cambodia. Granted, we are in monsoon season but this was insane. It sounded like my house was under a waterfall. The sheer roar of the water cut right through my ear plugs. Despite this, it wasn’t the noise that woke me up. What woke me up was the fact that it was raining on me in my bed. Cambodian houses are not hermetically sealed like American ones. My windows have shutters and bars, no glass, and the roofs are not flush against the walls of the house (nor are they usually hole-free). This all leads to when it a) rains hard enough or b) rains with strong enough wind, the water starts pouring into the house. My response was to flail about in search of my ipod and cell phone, shove said electronics under a box, and scoot down so I could pull my covers over my head. True Peace Corps Volunteer grit there, folks. Realistically it came down to moving versus staying where I was and getting sodden, and I was too lazy to move at one in the morning.

Yesterday was momentous: it marked the first day I made food for my Cambodian family, or at all in Cambodia for that matter. Technically I used the recipe for no bake cookies but they ended up being a chocolate-y peanut buttery oatmeal-y dipping sauce that was 75% sugar. My family was deeply impressed by my culinary prowess. The resulting “food” was not by any means savory looking but it was chocolate-y. Fun fact (actually not fun at all for me) for all you people who aren’t in a first world country: a Hershey bar here costs three dollars. THREE DOLLARS. Which is exactly why I am requesting that my mother stuff my Christmas package as full of chocolate oranges as possible. Or put the word out to anyone with a heart: SEND ME CHOCOLATE. Preferably chocolate oranges. Remember: I am a poor volunteer and that I deserve mercy. Especially in the form of gifts.