Suo sdei! Soksabay? HELLO! HOW ARE YOU? Greeting from Siem Reap (Angkor).

Orkun (thanks) everyone for choosing Where There Be Dragons and most importantly for choosing the Cambodia program to spend your summer! 

My name is Mara Pho and I originated from a small village called Prek Pdao, which is about 40 kilometers from the capital city Phnom Penh. I am going to be one of your instructors along with two other instructors this summer.

Allana Hearn is a dynamic team leader and a great mentor with whom I have worked with for six Dragons’ courses so far. She is the kindest, most helpful and inspiring person I have ever met.  Cat McNally, although I have not met her yet, I have heard so many good things about her. I can hardly wait to meet and work with her. 

At college I studied English, with a degree in Education, TEFL (Teaching English as a Foreign Language), I worked for a couple of private institutions for a few years as a teacher of English.  Besides teaching English to my people, I also taught Khmer language to international students at International School of Phnom Penh (ISPP), the most prestigious school in Cambodia.

It has been my goal to work with foreign students. Working for ISPP, without a doubt, is the main asset that leads me to working for Dragons. I really enjoy working with American students.  

Working for Dragons means so much more than just work for me. I have a long standing dream that Cambodia will be known as a country not just about Angkor Wat or the Kiling Fields but will be known and appreciated for the culture, people and history of this war-torn and disorganized but beautiful country.

I am really proud to be born as a Khmer, although Cambodia is still struggling very hard to keep up the pace in modern world, and many parts of the world still have completely no clue about this country. I always want to share what I know about Cambodia with the outsiders. There is no way I can hide the feeling that I feel privileged to be your travel companion this summer. 

During the trip when everyone spends time in homestay in my hometown, Prek Pdao, it is a time that I feel most honored because of the presence of these beautiful, good-hearted and well-aware strangers coming from the other side of the globe to do service projects and community work in the town where I grew up.

Oh everyone, please accept my most sincere thanks beforehand.

Admittedly, the group offers so much for me to learn, especially about English language and American culture. I have learnt so much about America but I know there are many things that this group could open my eyes to. You know what? The temperature in Cambodia now is 41C during midday which is about 105.8F. This is the hottest moment I have ever encountered. I honestly hate cold climate and I do not like this hot time too. Global Warming really sucks! 

Luckily, this afternoon we just had the first rain to start off the rainy season which really relieves the heat curse. Thanks god for the rain. Summer is just the right time to travel in Cambodia since it is the rainy season and the temperature will definitely cool down in earnest. 

I really want you to find out about Cambodia as much as you can before you come to this trip. You can look online about related issues and don’t forget to learn basic Khmer. It’s a very easy language to learn. The more you know about this country, the more you will get out of the experience. If you have any questions about Cambodia, feel free to ask me: phopsmara@gmail.com 

I am anxiously waiting to meet you and embark on this aventure together.   

Orkun thom thom  (THANK YOU BIG BIG)!

Mara Pho

Hello from Aqaba!  

I've been enjoying your introductions and your enthusiasm over the past few days.  I'm looking forward to an amazing summer with all of you!

We'll be hearing shortly from Linda and Sara.  Until then, I've got a few topics for you to ponder...

Life in Jordan and Syria operate at a slower pace than that to which we are accustomed in our hyper scheduled to the minute American lives.  Buses leave the bus station when they are full and not at any scheduled time.  Day to day plans are most often controlled by the will of God (and not by the will of (wo)man as in the West).  Because of this, we say 'inshallah,' hoping that God will allow our plans to go according to schedule.

Gender roles, particularly in rural areas, are strictly defined.  Men are responsible for the economic livelihood of the family and women manage domestic matters. Among the Bedouins, a woman's honor is highly valued and protected by the members of her family.  In most cases, she is not allowed to leave the home without the permission of a male relative.  Men and women are forbidden to interact outside of the context of the family or marriage and most people spend their lives having limited interactions with non-family members of the opposite sex.

These social trends - while limiting in the eyes of many - are basic facts of life for the people who will welcome us into their lives this summer.  Embracing and learning from this vastly different approach will play a significant role in your experience of Jordan and Syria.  Many challenges and many rewards will guide your experience...

Oddly enough, it is a Showtime series that has acted as an amazing means of reflection for my own experiences living and working in southern Jordan over the past seven months.  If you have never seen 'The Tudors,' a drama loosely based on the history of Britain's Tudor family, I recommend checking out a few episodes.  The late medieval European devotion to God, family and the King are present throughout many of the communities with whom we will interact this summer.  Likewise, the intrigue, manipulation and deceit of that period (and all human periods) can also be vibrantly present.

As a traveler, I have always tried to observe those around me without judgement.  I hope that you may find yourselves doing the same throughout our journey together. 

Be well, I will see you in June, inshallah,

Alena

  Rounding the last crest of our hike to begin the descent towards our new home in the Yi Potato village, it feels as though we are stepping into another world. A thick expanse of pine forest inhabits the slope ahead, decorated with a swash of evenly-spaced pink Rhododendron trees. As invisible hand has come before us to liberally toss green-tea-ice-cream-colored grandfather's beard hanging moss over everything like tinsel on a Christmas tree. The snowfall that surprised us an hour ago has left its mark here, dusting the ground and the tree branches with a coat of wet, clean snow. Ou Yi guide gives a hoot downhill to alert his village of our imminent arrival, and we breathlessly make our way downhill, almost afraid to speak for fear of breaking the spell.
  As we approach the village, we can hear a chorus of high-pitched women's and men's voices, first far-off and then closer and louder. There, at the edge of the village, they have lined up to welcome us with songs and wide smiles. I can hardly believe the beauty of it; the women are wearing their (everyday!) traditional attire of long, pink-yellow-green-blue block-striped skirts, colorful crocheted headdresses and embroidered vests, and the men are dressed for the occasion in black velvet capes and hats. We are each led to hop over a ritual cleansing fire and, with a marked sense of not being in Kansas anymore, we enter the village.
 
Fast-forward to our last night with the Yi people:
  Tonight, just like so many nights before, the whole village is gathered at the women's center in the middle of town. Dinner has finished, and the courtyard is buzzing with languid activity: the men, children in hand, squat around the hot fire which forms the centerpiece of the scene; the women bustle around, finishing up the last dishwashing in the kitchen-hut across the way; the elders have staked out their habitual spots almong the perimeter, from where they can quietly blow their pipes and observe the scene; the foreigners play cards or chat by the fire.
  Suddenly, the news spreads that the village has challenged our group to a dance/sing-off. With the challenge accepted, brainstorming begins for a high-energy line-up. Teams gather on opposite ends of the courtyard and the contest commences, at first hesitant but quickly building in strength until everyone, North American and Yi, is dancing, singing, rolling on the floor laughing with every bit of available energy. Our entries of "The Lion Sleeps Tonight," "I Will Survive," and my personal favorite, a medley of "Row, Row, Row your Boat," "What I Got," and "RESPECT" are gamely answered by beautiful, traditional, choreographed dances from our friendly opponents. Tonight, we are all one.
 
  Throughout our time here, it has become more and more apparent that this place is far more complex than just a single village, isolated entirely from the rest of the world as I once thought. Outside culture permeates where a passable road cannot, and it strikes a sort of balance with the ages-old traditions here. Right next to the essential household fire sits a satellite TV. When the women's colorful skirts swish to the side, sneakers or soccer cleats can often be seen peeking from underneath. Traditional music is offset by strange techno dance jams, and all of the songs are played from modern speakers. The potatoes that are present in abundance at every meal are supplemented with factory-packaged spices from Kunming. Thanks to the last Dragons group that visited here, the villagers love to toss around their one frisbee.
  This is a village in flux. It is gently pulled in one direction by the traditions that have been preserved for so long and yanked in the opposite by the blink-and-you-miss-it, 8%-annual-GDP-growth world of modern China. Already, it is clear that the village will need to adapt if it means to survive and maintain its way of life. Not so long ago, the Chinese government relocated three of the eight Yi villages in the area to lower-elevation areas because it was decided that they were not economically sustainable. Crop failures in recent years (due, in part, to irregular weather patterns possibly caused by climate change) demonstrated how dire the situation is here and pushed the village, with the help of a regional NGO to diversify its income. They have started planting medicinal herbs to sell for profit and began an ecotourism project (this is we we are here!) to gain some income from external sources. Still, a large percentage of the young, strong workers from the village have gone east like so many other young people in western China, to work on factories manufacturing goods for export to the Western Hemisphere. With no one to whom traditional skills can be passed, it will be tough for this village to stick it out and preserve their own unique way of life.

It's 6:20am as the sun rises to greet the Ganges and warm my skin, as the chai stirrs my sleeping senses. The faint hymn of splashing water in the wind, and Hindi conversations, fill the air as life begins in Varanasi. This is the last time in a long while this vision will be shown before me.

It has been two months since I stept off an American Airlines flight from life as I knew it to witness the wild world of India. And since that night my perception as been rocked. My vision has been re-sculpted by the hands of richshaw drivers, stray dogs and trash fires, legless peasants and salesmen/liars, boats on the river and selfless smiles. And how in the land of hand-made color, the earth and dirt are ever present.

Yet it's still hard to see all the ways this great place has changed me. A seed of overwhelming experience has been planted within and needs more than nine weeks to grow. But I know it's branches will expand my soul.

Now I sit overlooking the great Ganga waters, trying to soak in and comprehend all that is here for me, and radiate appreciation for all that has been. As the sun and breeze tag-team in warming and refreshing my skin, I think of all the events in my life, and how they began to only end.

So as I now stand at 7:12am, content about not knowing what lies behind the next bend. And for the first time in a while, I feel alive.

'Till we meet again Varanasi.. Namaste.