Beyond Comfort Zones: What Cambodia Taught Me About Life

When is the last time you felt uncomfortable, and how did you react to it?

You probably look at travel photos and videos on Instagram and such and read incredible stories about people's travels. You think to yourself, "I wish I could do that!" and perhaps don't even consider anything besides the luxury of it, or the beauty, or the nature, or the freedom that comes with a vacation abroad.

But that's half the story that goes on. Travel takes many different skills (planning, problem-solving, budgeting, communication, etc.) and is quite challenging. Of course, you probably know that! It's inherent with any trip to any place. Things always go wrong. Such is life.

Enter a new skill I've learned: how to be uncomfortable.

Cambodia is not an easy place. It certainly doesn't look easy to live there. And traveling there is not for the faint-hearted. It's H-O-T HOT. The temperatures were between 45 and 50 degrees at any given moment, and it felt as if the sun was sitting on my shoulders and punching me in the face. Very visible to me was the poverty, the number of orphans, the struggle that people have faced for decades.

I've been primarily staying at hostels during my travels, and I'd chosen a fairly new one in Phnom Penh that doubled as a martial arts gym. The people there were nice and passionate about fitness and wellness. But there were no privacy curtains on the hostel beds, no hand soap in the single bathroom in the 10-person room, no shampoo in the shower (which is usually provided in other hostels), and no A/C. Well, there were fans, and as there were only two of us who were staying in the hostel while I was there, both of us on either altitude of the bunk bed, we commandeered all the fans in the room (one for each bed) and created a mecha-fan masterpiece that pointed directly at our bunk bed and didn't make things any cooler but sure as heck made things feel much nicer. And seeing as it did cool down in the evenings, once the merciless sun wasn't looking, the room became less unbearable than it was during the daylight hours. However, I can't say that I was ever particularly excited or eager to return back to my bed in Phnom Penh, even after spending hours upon hours of walking around the scalding city.

Ah, and there was no mirror in the hostel. Call me a vampire because I didn't see my reflection for three entire days.

On my first full day in the Cambodia capital, I did a tour of the darker part of humanity, out to the Killing Fields and the S21 Museum, which is a former school-turned-prison where countless people, including women and children, Khmer and foreigner -- anyone who was suspected or accused of being a spy -- was tortured and probably killed. This was a heavy day, and in the middle of this crash course into the Khmer Rouge, Pol Pot, and the 1970s genocide in Cambodia, I reached a breaking point emotionally and mentally, as it's difficult to swallow these extremely dark pieces of history, although I also find it incredibly important to learn about it. The more that we know of what humans are capable of, the more that we understand about how these things can happen, and the more aware we are of how terrible these parts of history are, the more likely we are to be able to prevent them from happening in the future. "Never again" -- it's a mantra I've heard again and again and have identified with, as "again" has obliterated half of my family before I was even born.

I've got to give a shout-out to our tour guide, who was an excellent storyteller. On the bus ride to the Killing Fields, he was connecting with us tourists, making jokes, asking who'd tried the notorious fried spiders and silkworms during their time in Cambodia, and we smiled and laughed along until his tone grew grave and he said in a lower voice, "But, you know, those are the things you eat when you don't have food." And that's the bomb he dropped before commencing with the history of the Cambodian genocide.

We all connected, my whole tour group, on this tour. How could you not? As we walked through these places of horror, we were talking, crying, hugging, going through every possible human emotion in the span of a few hours.

As I was rested after this tour, I reflected on the first lesson of being uncomfortable: it reveals to you the comforts you do have in your life. I should be mindful of how uncomfortable I am and for how long it lasts. Some people don't get any relief for a long, long time, and others never do.

Perhaps you're reading this and thinking, "Oh, man, Michelle must've had absolutely the worst time in Phnom Penh. This all sounds miserable." But in actuality, although I did expect to dislike PP, as it does get a bad rap for pick-pockets, bag-snatchers, and drug crimes, I found that I really did enjoy the city. From the moment I rode a tuk-tuk into the city (with a fellow South Floridian I met in the airport who gets excited about haggling -- weird!), I found the pace and the energy thrilling. I observed the architecture, the greenery growing in gaps in the city, the active street markets, the people carrying their wares in baskets on their heads, the vendors wheeling their products through the streets, and I just loved the authenticity of it. It reminded me slightly of Hanoi. It's not an easy place to live, but it's just so full of LIFE.

The Khmer people taught me something important during my time in Cambodia through their smiles and humor. I spoke with people from all walks of life -- with money in their pockets, no money in their pockets, people with parents, kids without parents, kids with families who'd kicked them out for one reason or another, people who'd lost family members or friends to the Khmer Rouge, people who'd lost family members or friends or limbs to land mines. My tour guide in Siem Reap, who joked that he's "SBA -- Single But Available," who told us with a great sense of humor and a bit of loneliness in his smile, but smiling nevertheless, that he can't marry because a man needs at least $5,000 to pay to a woman's family before marriage, that the man must also pay for the wedding. "The more beautiful the woman, the more expensive," he said with a laugh. "I've had three girlfriends. The last one asked for $8,000, and I said, 'No, thank you.' Just looking! Like at a market!"

He explained that Khmer women typically don't drink or smoke until they're married because men don't like it. Traditionally, women would be treated like a diamond, kept at home, taking care of their skin and trying to avoid the sun so as to keep their skin pale. Lighter-toned skin in many parts of Asia is often a sign of status, as it means that you haven't had to spend much time working in the sun. Farming is a huge part of Cambodian life, and it was even one of the things that kept people safe during the genocide. Those who were able to lie about being an educated person and prove that they knew how to farm could be spared from a merciless fate.

I previously used "merciless" to describe the temperature in Cambodia. My tour guide in Siem Reap (SR) told us the history of the rising temperatures in his country, how Chinese companies had chopped down trees in Cambodia more than 40 years ago. "Before, people destroyed the environment. Now, environment destroys people."

Does reading this make you uncomfortable? I'm focusing on a lot of the bad and the harsh realities of Cambodia, but I hope you can read between the lines for how much I learned and how much respect I have for the people there. You all know by now my battle with burnout the past couple years, and perhaps you know the lows that come along with that. But meeting some Khmer people with hardships I can't imagine, and seeing them smile and greet me as a stranger and show such generosity and good humor, changed my perspective on life and allowed me to reflect on my approach to life and discomfort.

It's with humor that I approached the tuk-tuk drivers who tried to scam me at the Royal Palace. I couldn't find my way to the entrance, and the tuk-tuk drivers nearby told me it was closed and showed me their laminated posters displaying other beautiful tourist sites where they could take me. "It's OK," I told them, smiling and walking off.

"Tuk-tuk?" you'd hear a thousand times a day, walking by a tuk-tuk driver.

"I'm OK," I'd say.

"OK!" they'd often say with a smile, accepting the rejection so graciously. I love that.

I'm sure people get frustrated by constantly having to turn down rides again and again, especially when you walk down a street with as many tuk-tuk drivers and offers of "tuk-tuk?" as there are pigeons. But hey, they shoot their shot! And if they snooze, they lose, so the only way for you to know they're working and available is by asking the magic word: "tuk-tuk?"

"Tuk-tuk?" one driver asked me near the Royal Palace, the second time I was dropped off nearby it and couldn't find my way to the entrance. He explained, as others had, that the palace was closed but that he could take me to some other beautiful sites, and I repeated my usual, "It's OK," with a wave of my hand. Little did I know that he was the most persistent tuk-tuk driver of Cambodia.

"No, no," he said.

"I'm OK," I replied.

"No, no, don't say that."

"I want to walk. It's OK."

"No, not OK!" he said. "No, don't say OK!"

I kept walking and laughed because it was quite funny.

I've debated about telling this next story because I'm not sure if I did the right thing or not, but I did want my heart told me to do.

I'm going to preface by saying that there are many children who beg in Phnom Penh. I'd read a lot about this before visiting Cambodia. It's heartbreaking to see this, but it's advised to not give money to them because it reinforces this behavior, and they shouldn't depend on begging and receiving money from strangers as it doesn't lead to a sustainable future.

There's also something I'll refer to as "orphanage tourism" in Cambodia, which you may be aware of without even knowing it, as many well-meaning people volunteer in "orphanages" in Cambodia. However, these orphanages profit from this, and there are questionable ethics about it related to children, as well, as some kids may indeed be orphans, but others may be removed from their families for the sake of being placed in these "orphanages." But whether or not volunteerism is a moral thing to do, having a revolving door of adults in the lives of children is not always the best thing for them.

So, it's here that I'll tell the story of meeting children who were begging at a temple I visited in Cambodia. I always feel uncomfortable when anyone asks me for money, as I don't like to reject others, especially when they're in need. And I didn't want to lie to the kids and tell them I don't have money; of course, I do. So, I told them every time I saw them (which was often, since it was a small temple), "Sorry, I can't give you money," which was the truth.

But I'd seen them again and again and started talking to them, asking questions, like their ages. They were between the ages of 13 and 17, and they were in Grades 3 to 5 in school. The kids didn't really speak English. There was a man around my age in a suit who sat with us and translated. We all spent quite a bit of time talking to each other. The suited man explained that the kids are orphans. One boy, 13, had lost his parents, and his grandparents had kicked him out. They all stayed at the orphanage.

"They're brothers?"

"No."

"Friends?"

"No."

"Ah, just together."

"Yes."

The kids had told me that they were hungry and thirsty. "Do they need food or drinks?" I asked the suited man. He asked the kids in Khmer and then pulled a bao bun and water out of his backpack for them. A couple of the boys shared it and downed it all in the blink of an eye.

Just as in every interaction I'd had in Cambodia, there were lots of smiles and laughs. We joked with the kids. They reminded me of my students. I told them I'm a teacher and teach students in their grade level. The kids were curious about my camera, so I taught them how to use it and let them take pictures. They were very excited to take pictures of each other. One of them flicked off the camera and then smiled shyly at me, knowing that he'd done a naughty thing.

The suited man eventually left, but the oldest kid joined us. He was 17, had a congenital hand deformity, and spoke English well. He ended up being the translator for everyone, and I joked with him that he's like the big brother in the group, and he smiled at that.

One of the younger boys motioned to me that he was thirsty. I told them I can get them water and asked where we can go. They all got very excited, smiling and bouncy. They all got up, ready to lead me down the way toward the other side of the temple. There was a moment that I realized that there were more of them than me and that I had no idea where we were going, and I realize that some of you will read this and have a heart attack, but rest assured that I was in a public place and aware of the situation. I have good instincts, and there was no feeling of danger, just an awareness of how many excited there were as they guided me along, jumping up and down and playing with each other, like students do when it's time to go to recess. The "big brother" of the group perhaps sensed my nervousness and smiled and put me at ease. "It's right there," he pointed, and one of the younger, more confident boys of the group (13 years old) pointed at the cafe just ahead.

We went into the cafe, and I told everyone that they can order one thing. They all ordered either fruit juices or chocolate drinks. We sat down, and they made a space and set a chair for me to sit at the table with them. I asked them if they also wanted food, and they said no, perhaps because I'd said everyone can have one thing. But after getting the drinks, one boy told me he was hungry, so I offered to buy everyone food, and the cashier spoke with all of them in Khmer to explain what options there were. The entire bill for everything came out to about $20 USD, and that was all. I wasn't sure if I was doing the right thing in terms of condemning begging, but they were so happy to be able to order anything they wanted and to have their own food and drinks. When their friends weren't looking, a couple of them stole sips of the others' drinks (even when they had ordered exactly the same drink). Some of them, boys being boys, were comparing muscles and lifting their shirts to compare their abs. I sat there laughing and making faces and animal noises at one of the younger boys. I talked with the "big brother" a bit in English and through Google Translate. I asked all of them where they would like to travel one day (three said Angkor Wat, and one said France). We cleaned up. They returned the chairs to their rightful places, and we all walked back to the temple. I used Google Translate to communicate my sentiments to them, that they are all so kind and funny and that I hope they always stay kind and funny.

On the way back to the temple, most of them were running and playing with each other. As we parted ways, they said, "Thank you, teacher," and did the sampeah gesture to me (AKA the "wai" bow, if you're familiar with that in Thai culture). One of the boys broke my heart completely when he said, "See you tomorrow!"

This is a difficult story to tell because it's difficult for me to process. I try my best to live my life in a way that's generous and kind to others, but I don't know if I helped more than hurt in this situation. As I said, it's better for kids to have a more consistent adult process in their lives.

The same boy who'd said "see you later" had gestured to his bare feet, asking for shoes, and that was a position in which I didn't know what to do to help. And the reality of life weighed heavily on me here, and it still does. I just have to hope that our time together was meaningful for them as much as it was for me.

The next day, after being scammed by the tuk-tuk drivers ("It's OK"), I decided to try to walk toward the Royal Palace. Surely, I'll find a way in, I thought. But along the way, I got distracted by a school of arts (the Royal University of Fine Arts, to be exact) and stumbled upon an arts festival put upon by the students. There, I met an Interior Design student, nicknamed Shiba (like the dog 🐶❤️), who spent almost three hours with me, touring around the entire campus and introducing all the faculties: Interior Design, Architecture, Archaeology, Dance, Music, Fine Arts, and Print. It was the end of the semester, and the students had all decorated the campus and were showcasing their projects. It was incredible and opened my mind to the wonders of art and what people are able to create.

Later that day, one of the friends I'd made during the history tour the day before, a fellow teacher at an international school in Abu Dhabi, Matt, was able to join me. The entire showcase reflected traditional Khmer culture, so we were able to enjoy a Khmer dance performance. Afterward, we walked toward the Music department and watched both a band of traditional Khmer instruments and a band of modern instruments, to which a group of students were dancing along in the rehearsal room and pulled us up to join them.

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One of my good friends recently joked with me, "Do you type [your blog] up as you go and then hit publish once it hits 20,000 word count mark or something? lol" Well, I have no idea how many words I've typed by now, so the answer is NO, JEFF, I DON'T 😂😂 But I do kinda want to hit "publish" already, so I'll just break down the rest into bullet points and pictures.

The rest of the highlights:

Seam Reap:

• The sunrise tour of Angkor Wat, which broke my brain because of how little sleep I got and how amazing it is
  

• Learning the incredible ties of the design of Angkor Wat to astronomy and to Machu Picchu, which also has incredible ties to astronomy

• Seeing the hero rats and HOLDING one 😍😍 Oh, you don't know how these rats are trained to detect land mines and are helping to clear the land around Cambodia and return it to the people? You don't know that these rats can be trained to detect tuberculosis or to sniff out people trapped in rubble after earthquakes? You didn't know you can actually go see them in Siem Reap and watch a demonstration of a hero rat sniffing out explosives underground? Well, now, you know!!

• Staying in a beautiful, air-conditioned private room in Siem Reap, with shampoo AND had soap ANDDD a mirror!!!!!

• The fact that the temples of Siem Reap, some of which were built more than a thousand years ago(!!!), are still standing!

• Angkor Wat (Angkor Whaaaat?!) are super cool, but some of the other temples in SR made me go, "Angkor WHO?!"

• When you learn a little bit of any language in any country, people are so appreciative of you putting in an effort and learning more about their culture
  

• Renting a tuk-tuk for an afternoon with my Canadian wildfire firefighter friend and having some of the temples to ourselves. Bonus: Returning to the tuk-tuk to find three monkeys......I CAN'T RESIST....monkeying around inside the carriage, and one of them ending up going for a ride with us for a while because he didn't get off the tuk-tuk in time, since he was busy fighting my friend, Aidan, for his water bottle. The look of immediate regret on the silly monkey's face when he realized that the vehicle was moving and that he'd lost his moment to get off was comedy gold. Don't worry; we didn't go too far before he was able to hop off and run back to his pals.

Being uncomfortable is a part of life, but it's not healthy to be comfortable all the time. It's not healthy for your soul. Yin and yang, my friends. If we aren't uncomfortable sometimes, we can't learn and grow. We can't empathize. We can't appreciate the comforts we do have.

Yes, since then, I've absolutely been looking for hostels that have A/C, but sweating a little ain't so bad, and it's actually nice to just accept the sweat and the humanity of it sometimes.

Thank you, Cambodia.

And thank you, as always, for reading my posts. Go ahead and tell me in the comments how many words I typed for this one. 😜

AND as always, here is a collection of photo storytelling that didn't quite fit in the written narrative.