That's a HUGE Load

Yes, another Cambodia story.

One day Ratha and I were working in the clinic where I had just gotten a patient into the chair. He was a teenage boy. Always when I first see a patient I take a thorough look around their mouth, a reconnaissance, if you will. This boy had two fillings in between his two front teeth. Rarely did I see any existing restorations on the patients I saw on my mission, as the majority of the kids had never seen a dentist. So I stop and stare at these two fillings. They were horrific. They looked like they were made out of white Play-Dough, blob-like, with no attempt to smooth them or make them fit the anatomy of the teeth. Honestly, I could have done a better job my first day of dental school. Blindfolded.

Ratha sees these fillings, too, and notices I have stopped to stare at them. "A dentist did not do this." he says. Our conversation continues.

Me: "Well if a dentist did not do this..........WHO DID??"

R: "A dental practitioner."

Me: "What's a dental practitioner?", a position I have never heard of.

Ratha goes on to say, in his limited English, that in Cambodia, about 75% of the "dentists" there aren't even dentists at all. Often what happens is maybe someone knows a real dentist, and they talk them into showing them the ropes, then good enough, they open up shop and start practicing dentistry. And they are referred to as dental practitioners.

I ask Ratha if there is someone to regulate this. He gives me the look that he gives me when I talk too fast, or use phrases or words he does not understand. It's a look he gave me about a hundred times a day during our mission. "You know," I said, "Someone that makes sure this doesn't happen?"

"Sister," (he always called me sister) "Cambodia not like America. Cambodia does not have lawyer."

Which explains a lot, really. I would write a thousand posts with the theme "Cambodia does not have lawyer".

Anyway...On with my story.

My first day in this new land, we were driving along and something caught my eye, and for a brief moment I thought, HOLY CRAP IT'S THE IKEA HALF YEARLY SALE.



But no, I quickly realized, as I saw these massive loads all over the place. Really, I don't understand how they even load these little trucks so high. Do they use ladders?? Pull up really close to buildings and load from a second story window?





As if these loads weren't scary or dangerous enough...you'd see people riding on them!













Also, it seems that when it comes to riding on a moto in Cambodia, the more the merrier. Check out this picture. Dad with baby on his lap, dad has a helmet, baby doesn't.



Heading off to school, perhaps.



Count 'em. Four heads.



See the baby?





I did ride on a moto once there. I talked Jock into taking me to the Internet cafe in town so I could call Dale. I assumed we'd walk. But no. Jock asked the security guard at the hotel to take us. The security guard goes and gets his moto, they climb on while I just stand there. They both look at me like, Um hello, hop on. So the three of us head off in the dark, with me holding on for dear life, feverishly praying for safety.

Siblings Road Trip, Oh-Ten!

So yeah, my older sister Jenn and my younger brother Eric have been training for a half marathon for the past several months and always in the back of my mind, I'd think, have a good time with that. I did a half last summer, and let's just say it was the longest 13 miles of my life and I vowed I'd never put myself through that again. This event was to be held down in Reno, and several of our "Tahoe Friends" would be joining them.

On Wednesday I got a wild idea, and I called my sister at work to see if she minded if I joined them for the weekend. I would ride with them down to Nevada, see our friends, and be the official half-marathon photographer. Within a matter of minutes and a few phone calls later, it was a done deal.

Friday afternoon, my sister, her husband, and my brother picked me up and we headed down I-5. To say the least, my sister and brother are some of my favorite people on the planet. They are SO funny, I spent the majority of the trip in the back seat of my brother-in-law's truck laughing so hard I was almost peeing my pants. Whenever people tell me they think I am funny, I always think you should meet my siblings. Besides being funny, us "Johnson kids" all share the ability to read while riding in the car. We each were able to read an entire book, and my sister finished off two. This was my view for much of the trip:


We spent the night in Susanville, CA. I didn't fall into a deep sleep, as my brain was on high alert to not allow my body to forget who I was sleeping next to and accidentally cuddle with my brother. Here we are the next morning, leaving the hotel in search for the nearest Starbucks. Clearly I am incapable of applying makeup without caffeine on board.


We arrived in Reno a short time later and met our friends for breakfast. While we were eating, someone got the bright idea to mention I should register to run with them. I think I had mentioned that I had brought along my running shoes, (not with the intention of actually running, though). Once it was brought up, everyone joined in and finally, I said what the heck? Why not?

We headed downtown to the Eldorado Casino where I registered, and we picked up our race packets. Here we are at the marathon trade show, were we sampled the latest in protein bars and energy drinks.


The next morning we awoke at 4:30 (still didn't sleep well), left the house by 5:45, and here we all are at the starting line. I ended up running in what I had intended to be my pajamas.


Rachel and I stuck together since we had trained the least. Rachel had trained some, while I haven't actually ran in like...I don't even know the last time I ran, to be honest. I always work out, but running is my least favorite form of exercise so I never do it. During the race we ran some, walked some, ran some, etc. I am proud to say I beat my time from last year! Here we are crossing the finish line.




My sister, brother, and me. Yes, that IS a Shelton High School Highclimber's track jersey my brother is wearing.


My brother


We went to lunch afterwards. Rachel and I split off from the group and she took me to her favorite sushi restaurant. Sushi and all-you-can-eat are some of the best words in existence, if you ask me, and I ate myself into raw fish oblivion. It was some of the best I have ever had. Sushi in the desert? Sure.

While we originally weren't going to drive home until Monday morning, we ended up leaving that same day after lunch. Lemme just say riding couped up in the backseat of a truck for 13 hours after pounding the pavement for 13 miles is just plain inhumane. Here are a few pics from the road.


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We were so uncomfortable. Whenever we stopped for ice cream, corn nuts, and pop, we would groan and creak and waddle our way into the gas station, wincing and arguing over who was in the most pain. Eric was all "Man, I am going to need to use a Rover 'Round tomorrow if I go to the grocery store."

They dropped me off at 1:00 this morning. Glad I didn't have to work today. I am walking pretty stiff-legged.

I Could Not Think of a Title for This Post. I Really Couldn't.

This is Darold. Remember him? From my mission?



Yes, I know that was MONTHS ago, but still. I think the moment he met me he decided that it'd be his life's mission to torture me. On our trip, there wasn't a minute that passed between us when there wasn't some form of teasing, fun-making, ridicule, or joking.

The first few days in Cambodia my ankles swelled to unbelievable proportions. It must have been caused by the flight that lasted longer than the Bush Administration, then made all the worse buy the stifling heat. This was simply delightful to Darold, as it provided him with all the more to tease me about. One time he said, "Ya know, Jess....I'm trying really hard to picture you with normal sized ankles. I just can't. Maybe someday when they return to normal, you could send me a picture?" And so I actually did. A few weeks after the trip I sent him the following email and picture:

Hi Darold. I tried to take a picture of my own ankles. As one could imagine, that is a difficult shot to capture, since you have to contort your body into unnatural positions. I drew a picture of my ankles instead. They have slimmed down quite a bit, as you can see. Love you.

Anyway, I endured this harassment then entire length of the trip. Sometimes I'd get fed up and say, "Can't you be nice? Can't you JUST TRY???" Then Darold would look off in the distance, squinting his eyes as though deep in thought, wait a few moments, then look back at me and say no. Then the torment would continue on.

In other words, we got along great.

Each day after eating our lunch, a few of us would go for a walk around the neighborhood of dirt roads surrounding the orphanage (remember the alligator pit??) One day towards the very end of the mission, I was walking along with Jim (who is Darold's partner). I don't remember what led up to this, but out of the blue Jim says, "Darold is putting Ratha through school, you know." I didn't know that. But in an instant it did make perfect sense. I mean, realistically, how would an orphan have the resources to go to dental school? He wouldn't.

Here I'd spent almost two full weeks with these people and it was the first I'd heard of this. As it turns out, Darold has done this Cambodia dental trip several times and met Ratha years ago when he served at Ratha's orphanage in Phnom Penh. I don't know all the details or timeline of how this all went down, but either way, it doesn't really matter. This whole thing is just right up my alley. Maybe it's because I've always cheered for life's underdog.

Later that day I confronted Darold about what Jim had told me. Honestly, one could really brag about this. Darold could've be all Why yes, it is quite noble of me to do this, you're right, but he wasn't. When I brought it up, he was pretty nonchalant about it. What he said was along the lines of "Well..you know Ratha is just such a great kid..." He simply passed along the compliment. While I do think Darold is fat, ugly, and stupid...there's a tiny part of me that thinks he's pretty awesome. Sometimes.

And Ratha IS a great kid. I call him a kid, probably because of his stature, but he's actually 24. He is the kind of person that the moment you meet him, you just want to tuck him safely under your wing and protect him from the perils of life. He has had, buy American standards, a pretty crappy life. But like he told me, he knew how lucky he was to be given up to the orphanage at age 11 because it saved him from child prostitution. Ratha is always laughing and smiling. Always. The second day we knew each other he said, very matter-of-factly, "You are my sister." And that's what he calls me. To me he is wise beyond his years. One day we were riding along in the truck and I was wearing flip-flops. I have this little patch of spider veins along the inside of my foot that was caused by my two pregnancies. I am a little self conscious of this, so when Ratha pointed to it, for a brief moment I braced myself to be teased. "Sister," he says. "This happened because you are a mother." In his emails he writes things like, "Thank you for coming to my country with your love, skill, and kindness."

Recently Ratha shared some very exciting news. He is getting married! And he said, "Sister, I love for you to come to my wedding. But I know this very hard for you."

He's right. It would be very hard for me. I mean, go all the way to Cambodia for a wedding? Who does he think I am? That's just crazy!!

Crazy.

There is this lens that I have been saving for. It's the Canon 70-200 2.8 with Image Stabilization. Do have ANY idea the beauty I could create with a lens like that? It is HAW-SOME. And I have wanted one since I was about 12.

But lately I've been thinking...I mean...like...how bad do I really need that lens anyway? I've survived so far without it, and I can always buy it later. Someday, when I reflect back on my life, will I even think about it? In my dying moments, as my life flashes before my eyes, will I see a picture of the UPS man on my front porch with a box in his hands from B&H Photo? (Although it is entirely possible. That lens IS pretty fantastic.)

But isn't life about living? Isn't it more about the people we love...our friends, our family, our experiences, our adventures, our memories, and less about our stuff?

I made my travel arrangements yesterday.

Ever Experienced Durian?

The first time I ever heard of durian was when my sister-in-law Dawn told me about it. Durian is a fruit that grows in Southeast Asian countries. Dawn spent her teenage years living in Malaysia while her dad worked there for Boeing. She was like "Yeah there's like this fruit that smells really, really bad..."

To call it foul is like giving it a compliment. It is illegal to take durian on public transportation (in Cambodia, at least). As in, You brought this retched fruit with you onto the train. Now everyone is puking. Thanks a lot. Here's your fine. I was pretty much under the impression that although it smells bad, it tastes fine, because when I asked the dental students if they eat durian, they were all, "Yes. Durian good." The looks on their faces were like hello, duh.

I was curious about this, and when we were in Siem Reap Darold pointed some out to me. I laugh every time I see this picture. When I brought it up to my nose, I thought to myself, Oh yes. I've smelled this before. In the market. But I just thought I was walking past a stall selling filled cow intestines that had been left out in the sun for five days.



I actually tasted some at the CACO party after we'd gotten home. It was baked into a custard. And yep, still nasty. I am a pretty brave eater, but no amount of sugar can make that awfulness palatable to me.

A Few More from the Boudoir Shoot

Because My Boss Loves a Good Mormon Joke

My boss is Mormon. I've talked about this on my blog before. He and I kind of have this brother and sister, make fun of each other at every given moment kind of relationship. We'll joke that he has so many kids that he can't remember all their names, or I'll throw in a polygamy joke on occasion, too. "I don't need more wives," he'll say. "I already have ten at the office that nag me and boss me around."

The Mormon Missionaries visit my house all the time. Seriously, like every couple of months. Sometimes it's the same ones, and sometimes it's new ones. I have respect for what they do, because I know that deep in their hearts, they are serving God the best way they have been taught. They have to make many difficult sacrifices and face a lot of flack for doing so. Even poor Dr. Bowers got a Slurpee thrown at him from a passing car while diligently riding his bike when he was on his mission. So because of that, I am always nice to them. Always. But at the same time, I am always honest with them, too. If I can sense that they can take a joke, I'll be all dramatic and say, "I can't become a Mormon!! You guys would make me give up coffee! It's my favorite thing in the whole WORLDDDDDDD! And why do you want me to suffer like that???" But sometimes when they start into their spiel I'll just stop them and say, "Look you guys. I am never going to become a Mormon. I have tons of Mormon friends, and I have done a lot of research on your religion and have a great deal of respect for many parts of it and what you're doing, but it's just never going to happen, and I don't want to waste your time out here." Then I'll change the subject, and ask them where they're from, how they like Washington, how their mission is going so far. Their little name tags only say their last name. One time I said to one of them, "Hey, what's your first name? WAIT! Don't tell me. Is it Paul? You look like a Paul."

"Nope. It's Sean."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Sean. Can I still call you Paul?"


One day at work I asked Dr. Bowers why they still come by my house, even when I tell them every time that I'll never join their church. "Is there like a gigantic map of Shelton at the Missionary Headquarters, with a little push pin marking my house, with a post-it saying Stop by there. She'll be nice. She may even invite you in for dinner?" (I did this once. They accepted. We ate lasagna.)

"Well," he said, "Maybe something like that. Or maybe they stop by often because you live in a neighborhood with lots of houses, kinda like trick-or-treating," then he pauses and gets a serious look on his face. "Or it's because God is sending them."

"Righttt...because my soul needs saving?" I'll laugh and roll my eyes.

So yesterday I left this picture on his desk with a little note saying Even in the far reaches of Cambodia, I cannot seem to escape them.

Boudoir Workshop with Jennifer Skog

So while I have been blogging about my Cambodia mission for the past three months, life has been going on, as they say. In march I attended an AWESOME workshop in Las Vegas taught by the amazing and talented photographer, Jennifer Skog.

I have been a fan of Jennifer's photography for a few years now, specifically her boudoir work. Everytime I snoop at her blog, I always amazed at her ability to keep her subjects looking classy, tasteful, but still sexy at the same time. She always manages to stay on the appropriate side of that very delicate line. I believe a woman's beautiful body should celebrated, and Jennifer is so great at what she does.

So just before I left for Cambodia she posted this upcoming workshop on her blog. I was already spending a ton of money to go on the mission, but I just couldn't pass up the opportunity to learn from the very best. So I signed up...and I am so glad I did. It was a super fun class. It was a small workshop, so we go a lot of individual attention, and I left that day armed with all kinds of tips and tricks for my next shoot. Can't wait!

Here is Jennifer in action:



Not surprising, Jenn is also a fabulous wedding photographer. We had a model who was actually one of Jenn's recent brides. Her name was Steph, she was a great sport, had a stunning body, and was absolutely up for anything. She made the already-fun class even more fun!

This is another student shooting:



We paired off and two-by-two directed our own little shoot. This is the gal I partnered with:



Here are a couple of my favorite shots from the workshop. They are a little on the racy side...so please...if you think you may be offended by this type of thing, then just don't scroll down any further. :)

I've never done a boudoir shoot before, so this was all new to me...and I am kinda proud of myself. I liked how some of these turned out:

Mommy Day

Bella's been bugging me to get a pedicure for, like, months. I've been ignoring this request up until now because of my intense fear of creating a diva. First a pedicure, then a cell phone, than an American Express card, then she'd want personal assistant. And overmydeadbody am I going to raise a spoiled brat.

But ya know what? She's a great kid. She's polite and kind and respectful and doesn't give us a lick of trouble. She presented us with a stellar kindergarten report card and her teacher raved about her as well during her recent parent-teacher conference.

Ya know what else? I decided that giving her a reward for all her efforts probably won't create a monster. We discussed, at length, the benefits of working hard and meeting our responsibilities. I mean, that concept applies in real life, right? It's called a paycheck.

And while I still have pangs of guilt treating my 5-year-old to a pedicure when there are 5-year-olds in Cambodia dying of abscessed teeth, earlier today we sat side-by-side at the spa and enjoyed an hour of pampering. She loved it, and even better...she said thank you for it.

She chose blue polish. That little rebel.

Teaching us to NOT be ugly Americans

I know I still need to blog about Road Trip part II, but in the mean time, I wanted to share this picture.

This is one of my teammates' pictures. I LOVE seeing everyone's pictures from the trip. Love it. I love seeing that they captured things that I didn't, or saw things in a different way, or having memories come back that I'd otherwise forgotten.

When I came across this one, at first I thought, what is going on in this picture? But when I realized what it was, I remembered. I love the little story this picture tells. It was at the start of the mission, we had arrived at the orphanage to set up the clinic and were leaving for the hotel. We had just met the dental students and they were teaching us the proper way you hold your hands together up to your face and bow when you say hello/thank you/goodbye. This polite gesture helped us stand out like sore thumbs just a little less.

Chapter 7 Road Trip! Thailand

What's up with my blogging block lately? Where have I been? I used to love blogging...I still do. But it seems to have fallen further and further down my list.

Am I spending too much time on Facebook?

And another thing I just can't believe is that here it is April, it's been three months since I was in Cambodia, and I am only about HALF WAY through sharing my adventures. I guess that means only one thing: Time for me to get back on the wagon.

Seems so strange to continue telling the story since Mike has died. I had a patient last week pretty much imply that it was wreck less of me to travel and work in a country so "unsafe", and what was I thinking doing this when I have two small kids at home and not to mention that I am a "fragile" woman? "I never leave the United States," he said. "I don't even cross the border into Canada because I can't pack my gun." I told him that those were all things that I'd considered. Then I told him about Mike. After loosing my dad without warning almost 5 years ago, I realized that you never know what tomorrow is going to bring, and Mike's death just reinforced that. If you want to do something, think it through, weigh your options, do your homework, then just do it. Sure, there were many times I thought it might be a better idea to wait until my kids are a little older and less dependant, but I am so glad I did it. You can't live your life in a bubble. I loved every second of that trip, it has changed me in so many ways, and I can't wait to do it again.

Oh yeah, road trip.

We got one day off in the middle of the mission, which wasn't exactly a day off considering we were again busy from sun up to sun down, but at least we got to play.

After breakfast our team loaded into the little truck and headed down the highway towards Thailand. It was about a two hour drive from Banteay Meanchay to the city of Poipet, where we crossed the border. Here are a few pics from the road. Here is Darold...insisting I take his picture while hanging out of the back of the truck as we drove. I was like, "GET BACK IN!! GET BACK IN!!"



Franklin, me, San, and Bot


Brittany, Jim, Ratha, and Darold


Bot, Mike, Mary Kay, Dave, and Pat


Jim, Ratha, me




Ratha, Rith, Jork, San, Tola, and Bot


Darold and Jim


Ratha and me. Don't I look fragile?


Darold bought these cigarettes there. I thought the anti smoking message was genius! You know, you hardly EVER see people smoking in Cambodia. Maybe this is why (aside from being poor). I bet there is a big exchange of money going with the tobacco industry in the US to keep the labels from looking just like this.


Our road trip held a very special meaning for Franklin, our team leader. It's been a while since I have blogged, so you may be a little foggy on my teammates. Franklin is a practicing dentist in Portland, but immigrated from Cambodia when he was 20 after escaping from the Khmer Rouge in 1979. During the reign of the Khmer Rouge, it is estimated that up to HALF of the entire Cambodian population were killed by execution, torture, starvation, or forced labor. The cities were evacuated to the farmlands where the citizens were forced to work as slaves and survive anyway they could. Think of it as Cambodia's Holocaust.

Franklin had a best friend that he made while working in the labor camps, but they were separated and after all these years after Franklin's escape, he never knew what happened to his friend. He didn't even know, after over three decades, if his friend had even survived the Khmer Rouge.

A short time before our trip, Franklin became in touch with a friend, and that friend knew another friend, who knew another friend...and he found out that yes, his long-lost friend was alive and living in Thailand. They got in touch and decided to meet up at the border in Poipet when Franklin came to Cambodia for the mission.

While the rest of us goofed off and played and had coffee at the knockoff Starbucks at the Casino in Thailand, Franklin went and reunited with his friend. When we met back up with him a couple hours later, he was so happy. I captured this picture of the two of them. That's Franklin on the left.



Franklin was so happy to see his friend again. No, not happy...beaming. He couldn't stop smiling. "I not see him for 31 years," he excitedly told our group. "But I recognize him right away!" This, of course, got me misty-eyed. Of course Franklin wouldn't have even had a picture of his friend, considering the time and circumstances of their friendship. And after 31 years, you'd probably struggle to remember the details of one's face.

We hit the road again and headed back to Sisophon where we had lunch at a local restaurant, then loaded back into the little truck and headed of towards our next adventure at Prasat Banteay Chhmar. Stay tuned...