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A Cambodian curriculum vitae.

6/12/2014

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This is what a resume looks like in Cambodia.  I was sitting at a bar, eating some grub on my last evening after a 4-month stay, and got to chatting with the bartender, a pleasant local woman.  She pulled out this resume and looked it over and showed it to me, since I was the only person in the bar. 

She remarked that the young man who submitted the resume must be from the province because he really has no work experience and not even a photo to submit.  There are really no jobs in the province, she explained – they’re all in the main cities and especially areas of tourism like Siem Reap and Angkor Wat (a world heritage site,) Phnom Penh, and the beach town of Sihanoukville.   So everyone comes to those “big city” or tourism areas to try and make a living. 

“He did graduate high school,” she said,  “The most important thing on resume – any resume – is that he speak a little good English. So
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maybe we give him chance.  Now rainy season so tourist slow down, but Siem Reap ok now.  All Korean and Chinese tourist come here instead of Thailand because they fighting.”

I asked her how much an entry-level job at the bar might pay.

“$60 or so,” she said.  

“A week?”  That seemed like a pretty good wage for Cambodia.

“A month.”

Imagine working 12 hours a day, 6 or 7 days a week for $60, or less than $2 a day?  Yet that’s what the vast majority of people in Cambodia earn every month – if they’re lucky.  That’s about the going rate, whether they are servers at restaurants, tuk tuk drivers, give massages, do construction or sew and work in a laundry.  The bartender told me that so many young people come to the city try and get these jobs.  They have no place to stay, no family or friends or even a dollar of savings to fall back on once they arrive, so they sleep 10 to a room in a shabby guesthouse, on the floor where they work, or even on the street on a hammock.  

They send as much money as they can manage back to their families in the province – the only system of social security for older people.  The financial pressure on these young people is enormous.  Sending $30 home can make the difference between their parents, grandparents, and whole extended families having enough to eat or receiving medical care or not.  Too often, they are forced into doing jobs their parents would be ashamed of, compelled to hide their vocation but still needing to send money back for them to survive.

They always start their tenure in the city and at a new job sending money back, but some are pulled into dark temptations – partying, buying nice clothes and phones, and always drinking.  Since any real money to be made is at a bar, club, or working to pacify the tourist’s desires, alcoholism is such an unquestioned fact of life that nearly everyone drinks all night, every night.  The depression of hopelessness is staved off by taking a shot and the energy of another night’s neon song.  The girls in bars, whether bartenders, hostesses, servers, or “bar girls,” make a significant portion of their income on tips or lady drinks.  If they can convince a foreigner to buy them a drink (at an inflated price,) they get paid handsomely, usually $1.50 or $2, or as much as they would otherwise earn all day.  

The girls mostly come to work as these bar girls, or that is where they always end up, where they can earn more and try to attract the favor of a foreigner for some nice meals, a vacation, a brand new phone.  Especially the phone - it seems like having a nice new Android or (gasp!) iPhone is a badge of wealth to these girls.  But it’s also a tool to allow them to attract and keep in touch with foreign boyfriends, even when they go back overseas.  Keeping that relationship alive can be lucrative – guys often send a hundred dollars a month or so back to their “girlfriends.”  Or, if things go really well, they may pay for them to take English classes or go to university.  If they’re really lucky, they’ll find the Holy Grail – a visa to another country.  The only detail is that they need to marry the guy, but that is a small inconvenience.  Sometimes, it takes a week for the marriage to manifest, sometimes, years.  It matters little if they know the guy well, are attracted to him, or even like him – the opportunity for economic security and the chance for a better future for them and their family is like a winning lottery ticket that just needs to be cashed on a daily basis. 

For many of them, the devil arrives in their lives and his name is Yaba.  That’s what they call the Southeast Asian version of methamphetamines, or ice - a terrible concoction of poisons that eats away at their brains when smoked – but let’s them float above their problems for a few precious hours.  Once they get hooked on Yaba there’s usually no going back, eventually becoming reckless with selling their bodies.  When that happens, all their money goes to their habit and less and less back to their families.  If they get pregnant they usually go back to the province to have the help of their mother until they deliver.  When they come back to the city to work, the baby usually stays with grandma.  

Even those working outside of the bar scene make a significant portion of their income on tips and kickbacks.  So if the tuk tuk driver suggests a hotel and delivers the tourist to the front door, they’re entitled to a tip from the hotel for bringing a booking.  Sometimes the drivers have a pretty good day, but too often they’re lucky to have one fare for a buck or two.  For that reason, they’ll assault your senses with offers to take you to every tourist attraction.  You usually have to say ‘No,” three or four times to every single street vendor or tuk tuk driver just to get them off your back.  It’s hard not to get annoyed at their aggressiveness but once you understand the economics of the their situation, you tend to soften your stance.  

And then, there are the hustlers; battalions of forgotten people working the streets, outside of any rules or structure of the tourism industry.  Adults – sometimes even their own parents - send children barefoot into the street to beg all day and all night, armed with sad eyes and wearing dirty rags, just enough English to tug on a sympathetic tourist’s heart strings.  Maybe they sell bracelets or knick-knacks, but they’re really just seeing how much they can squeeze out of each farang - foreigner.  

How can you blame them?  That watch you’re wearing costs more than they make in a year, what you spend on a Saturday night enough to feed their family for a month.  The only problem is that most of the money goes to the grown person around the corner who’s spending it on booze or cigarettes, and not much to the kids working in the razor sharp streets.  

Some bar girls – who are sick or too hooked on Yaba to work in bars – work as freelancers.  Of course there are pickpockets and those who set tourists up when their pants are down (literally) but the vast majority of all these people are good, honest, and hard working – even when faced with unfathomable poverty.  They set up a chair and give haircuts in the street, or drag along a cart of coconuts to sell, a machete and straws the tools of their trade.  Many just set up a blanket in the dirty street and sell icy fruit drinks, animal innards roasted over a coal fire, or dried fish.  It’s all they know, and without skills, education, or any resources, it takes all of their life’s energy just to live hand to mouth.  But they are honorable people - they’d split their last grain of rice with you if you were in need.       

“How long have you been working here?” I asked her as she took my plate away and put another ice cube in my beer.

“Three years now,” she said.  “Good job and nice owner that like me work.”

“And how much do you make per month?”

“$80,” she said.  And this was a decent Western bar in tourist areas that catered to foreigners and she spoke good English.  Imagine what the older lady in back made, homely and without strange words, so resigned to mopping up and cooking my meal?  

I wondered what would become of this kid who was applying for the job, even if he got it?  Faceless and with nothing to claim except a blank page, what was his fortune?  Or so many countless young, cheap laborers like him who came to the cities?  I guess we could just be thankful this new generation didn’t have to experience the horrors of war and genocide that their parents endured.  But as tourists keep pouring money into the country, I just wished that more of it actually landed with the real people living and dying in the streets, who really deserved it.  I guess I always hope that things get a little better.  

“Ketloy,” I said, asking for the bill in Khmer – the Cambodian language.  She smiled and brought me the bill.  I put down enough to cover the bill and a tip big enough for her to eat for a month and handed it back to her   She went to give me change, confused why I overpaid.

“Keep it,” I said.  “That’s a tip for you and spilt it with the lady over there with the mop.”  

“What?  Really?!  Oh thank you thank you!  Ohn Kuhn, bong!” she said to me, holding her hands to her forehead and bowing slightly to the sky, an offering to Buddha thanks for her good fortune. 

I smiled back – a real smile that I hope she remembered when times were bad.  I thanked her again and walked out onto the street.

“Tuk tuk?!  Tuk tuk!  Where you go?  Angkor Wat?” five taxi drivers barraged me at once.  I checked my watch – I had to head to go collect my bags at the hotel and get to the airport soon.

I guess that’s really what it comes down to – some of us are lucky enough to have places to go while the rest of us are always left hoping things get better, praying fortune arrives if they could just get through another day, around the corner or maybe in the kindness of a stranger.  Either way, none of it still makes any sense to me.  But that’s just how it is.  

-Norm    :-)
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See you later - but never goodbye - to Cambodian orphans Jenny and Jenna.

6/9/2014

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By now, many of you know the story of Jenny and Jenna, orphaned sisters here in Cambodia that grew up in desperately poor circumstances, separated from each other and with no food, money, or anyone to care for them.  Luckily, they were helped few years back by an American expat, Cowboy Bart, who managed to reunite the sisters and arrange for them to live with a family in a jungle province not far outside the main city.  Things were better but they still lived in humble circumstances, with barely enough food, attending school only sporadically, and having to sleep outdoors many nights.  

But things got much better for Jenny and Jenna recently.  Thanks to your generous donations, and the hard work of the true champions in their lives – two Cambodian medical students nicknamed Keep Calm and Keep Hope, along with Cowboy Bart, they were accepted into an orphanage in Siem Reap, a northern tourist town where Angkor Wat is located.  The orphanage, the Children’s Improvement Organization, was founded by a kind local man named Sitha Toeung.  The girls safely transitioned up there a couple weeks ago after a hot, bumpy bus ride with Keep Calm and Keep Hope.  But before they went we brought them into the big city of Phnom Penh for a going away celebration, a day of fun and firsts they’ll never forget! 
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Today is my last day in Cambodia before I make my way back to the United States after a whole year in southeast Asia, 4 months of which was spent in this beloved country of Kampuchea, or Cambodia.  So I couldn’t think of a more fitting goodbye than to travel up to Siem Reap to visit Jenny and Jenna at the orphanage to say goodbye before departing on a plane tomorrow.  

 The last time I wrote about the girls, and also the “Children of the Trash,” in Steung Meanchey, I was bombarded with donations and well-wishes from friends from all over the world.  I put that money to good use here in Siem Reap, hitting the local market today to buy all the things the orphanage needs: two huge 50kg bags of rice, 2 jugs of cooking oil, industrial-sized laundry detergent, boxes of snack food, 25 toothbrushes, toothpaste, plenty of bottles of shampoo and soap, combs and brushes, notebooks and pens for school, art supplies, and a full bedcover set for the girls.  

On this, my last evening in town and in Cambodia after 4 months here, I hired a taxi to drive me out to the orphanage to meet up with the girls.  Eager with anticipation all day, it was heartwarming to have the girls run up to me with big hugs when I arrived.  I was pleased to see that the orphanage was a much nicer set up than their last family in the province, with big thatched bungalows high up on stilts (to keep away from floods during the rainy season and any critters that might venture in,) a wide open courtyard, a locking gate and fence to keep the children safe, a big separate outhouse facility, and a serviceable outdoor kitchen under a tin roof.  It was spotlessly clean and all the kids appeared pleasant and cared for, if not a little shy at this foreigner's caravan arriving.
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Jenny and Jenna looked happy and healthy, and Sitha confirmed that they were doing well – fitting it well with the other kids and making friends.  He did mention that they were lagging way behind the other kids their age in school, unable to read or write even their own Khmer language fluently because of sporadic attendance in the past.  But he assured me that they would catch up and learn well in time, and the orphanage even employed an English tutor on site to teach the kids in the afternoons, a huge advantage as most of the decent jobs require English in a country becoming increasingly dependent on tourism.  Sitha himself, he confessed, didn’t even start school until he was 20 years old, but he earned a college degree not long after.  

His story is an incredible one – as dark and at the same time as uplifting as the human spirit can endure, like so many Cambodians who lived through the Khmer Rouge years of genocide and mass starvation.  He was born in 1969, only 6-years old when Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge came to power and systematically mass murdered 1.5 million people – about 25% of the country’s population - within only 3 ½ years.  Sitha told me that as a boy in Phnom Penh he grew up near the high school – then converted into an infamous prison and torture chamber.  He used to climb a palm tree and look over the fence to see people being tortured on a daily basis.   (continued at right)

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Sitha survived the scarce years after the war living in a pagoda upon the mercy of monks, and soon turned his trauma to something better – founding the Children’s Improvement Organization, where he's dedicated his days helping impoverished and orphaned children.

We talked briefly about these things, almost in whispers, as Jenny and Jenna and the kids ran and played with far fewer cares in the world than he'd had.  How far the people have come and how much healing has taken place in only one generation, we agreed, something to hang our hopes on even if things were still very hard for people in Cambodia.

Soon, nothing but joy and laughter resumed, as my taxi driver helped me unload all the goodies I brought for them.  They stood in a big circle out under the sun and helped me take everything out of the bags, lay it out for display so they could pick it up and talk about it, and then put it all in the bags again.  Sitha gave me a quick tour and Jenny and Jenna showed me their bungalow, where they slept on the floor on bamboo mats along with 10 other girls.    

Sitha also introduced me to his lovely wife, a kind soul if there ever was one, and the four young Taiwanese volunteers who had been helping the orphanage for the last year.  In fact, most of the buildings had been donated by Taiwanese organizations and their biggest donor was a kind-hearted but common Australian woman.  It was always a concern where the next donation would come from, and already he was worried about securing a renewal on the orphanage’s lease once their current one was up in a year.  I’d felt good for bringing so many things, but seeing that it had to take care of 37 children, I wished I brought more.  The bags of rice, seemingly enormous when I purchased them in the market, were dragged away to the kitchen by two skinny, shirtless Cambodian kids who looked 5 years younger than 13 and 14, their real ages, because of malnourishment.  

“How long will one of those bags last, I asked Sitha.”

“2 ½ or 3 days if they’re lucky,” he said, “ We have 37 kids and they eat rice three meals a day, so it goes fast.”  I couldn’t help but think, what would happen when those bags ran low?  For a second, I glimpsed the panic that must engulf their every day, though it was such a familiar play thing it was now just called, “life.”
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The wind picked up and dark clouds rolled in from the horizon, stirring palm trees and sending street dogs barking.  It was monsoon season and we had some dirt roads to traverse back to town, so it was with unspoken agreement that we moved toward the taxi and said our goodbyes before we got caught in a squall.

Saying goodbye to Jenny and Jenna was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.  They hugged me and we waved goodbye furiously, the only real method of communication because they didn’t speak English and I, very little Khmer.  With Sitha’s translation, I told them that I’d be back as soon as I could, maybe 6 months, and that I would stay in touch with him and make sure they had everything they needed.  They smiled and hugged me.  I made my way five steps toward the taxi, and they hugged me again.  We went on like this again and again, until I had tears in my eyes, hidden by my sunglasses so my concern wouldn’t diminish their smiles at all.  How could I just walk away?  Six months was a long time – if that would happen at all.  What if I couldn’t come back?  What if they didn’t have enough food, or the orphanage enough money to renew their lease?  What if some other malady fell upon them, like what happens with too many Cambodian children?  How could I possibly keep them safe?  And all of the other 37 children in the orphanage that were quickly wining my heart? 

This time, I turned and hugged them before climbing into the taxi.  I would find a way.  We drove off, all of us waving vigorously until the very last second, when we turned a corner and Jenny and Jenna were out of site, but with me more than ever.

-Norm   :-)


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In defense of Somaly Mam.

6/1/2014

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This week, startling allegations emerged that Cambodian anti-sex trafficking crusader Somaly Mam has been lying to us the whole time.  Her personal story – kidnapped as a ten-year old girl and sold into sexual slavery, forced to endure a decade of horrific abuse until she managed to escape – captured the hearts and attention of the international philanthropic community, funneling millions of dollars into Cambodia and her own Somaly Mam Foundation to help other victims.  She became the face of the anti-human trafficking cause, a media darling who appeared with Oprah, Anderson Cooper, on PBS, with NY Times columnist Nikolas Kristof of, Half the Sky fame, and rubbed shoulders with Hollywood celebs Susan Sarandon, Meg Ryan, Angelina Jolie, and many others as they toured Cambodian slums and brothels.  

The high-water mark of her accolades is well documented, but it all came crashing down so suddenly this week.  Allegations of falsehood in her narrative led her own foundation to hire an independent law firm to conduct an investigation.  The results weren’t pretty – an elephant so big it couldn’t be swept under the rug - including concrete evidence from multiple Khmer (Cambodian) sources that confirmed Somaly Mam has been flat-out lying to us the whole time.  She was not kidnapped and sold into sexual slavery at age 10, or at all, instead grew up as a normal village girl like so many others.  The tale of 10-years of rape, beatings and slavery she told us, which endeared us with their authenticity and brought a tear to more than one blue eye, didn’t happen at all.  Furthermore, Somaly lied about her own daughter being kidnapped by sex traffickers as retaliation for her work (she actually ran off with a boyfriend to escape the attention of her mother’s foundation,) and even worse, coached Cambodian girls into telling their own fabricated stories of sexual exploitation to elicit more donations. 

Basically, Somaly Mam told us the story we wanted to hear – no, that we needed to hear in order to justify writing big checks.  In response, her foundation announced her resignation and is hoping the media maelstrom blows over.  Somaly has remained mum on over these allegations but let’s be clear – she lied, and it is wrong.  But why?  And is there at least some shred of salvation we can locate in all this rubble, considering she’s spent most of her life doing more to combat sex trafficking than anyone on earth?  Does she warrant our forgiveness based on the purity of her actions, even if they were wrapped in a banana leaf of lies?  I think so, and I’ll tell you why.





First, a quick note about my perspective on this issue; I’ve lived in Southeast Asia over the last year and spent about 4 months of that time in Cambodia, an enchanting black rose of a country that I truly love.  I’ve traveled corner to corner, from Kampong Som to Siem Reap, befriending locals, immersing myself in the culture and writing about it.  I’ve volunteered at orphanages, visited the slums where people live in and on garbage, slept under the stars in the hot jungle provinces with no electricity, and even lived in a rat-infested abode next door to sisters who work in the sex industry, earning a living in Phnom Penh’s tourist bars.  I became like a big brother to them and also became friends with many others and heard their personal stories.  I have friends who run charitable foundations here, Khmer friends who work at the Phnom Penh Post, and sipped more than one beer with ex-CIA agents and former royal national guards who’d seen it all.  In the meantime, I also wrote a collaborative book, Cambodia’s School of Hope, to help educate and empower youth here.  None of that make me an expert on Cambodia but the reality is, I hear more about the true nature of these events on the streets every day than the international media has documented so far, combined.

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I see things on a routine basis that would be hard to even wrap your mind around for folks in the Western world.  I know that because I wouldn’t have believed the magnitude and majesty of Cambodia’s oddity myself, only a year ago.  So let me tell you 10 reasons why I think Somaly Mam, despite her obvious wrongdoing, is still worth defending.

1.Context.
To start, it’s important to understand that you are looking at this situation through a western or United States paradigm.  Of course you are – that’s where you’re from and where you live, so how could you not?  It’s a world of black and white, right and wrong, and moral absolutes.  But please realize, other people live in a world without the luxury of that same paradigm.  I don’t expect you to grasp that right away, but try to keep an open mind as you read what follows. 

2. Poverty.
It’s hard for you to even understand the level of poverty in Cambodia.  I could throw out plenty of statistics, like the average person makes about $2 a day at a decent job, or there are 90% illiteracy rates in its expansive rural areas, or that it’s so poor, children are frequently sold off for $20 because there’s just not enough food to go around.  But all the stats and figures won’t prepare you for the siege of poverty that barrages you when you here.  After you see the thousandth barefoot child begging in the street, or whole families picking through the trash, dirtier than the garbage they’re shuffling through, or people with no legs dragging themselves through the streets by their hands, the only reflection they’ll ever see in the shined hubcaps of a politician’s Range Rover, words fall short. 

The best way I can describe Cambodia’s poverty is, fittingly, with a quote by Mahatma Gandhi, “There are people in the world so hungry, that God can not appear to them except in the form of bread.”

2. The modern history of Cambodia.
Somaly was reportedly born in 1970 or 1971, her formidable years as a child during the hell-on-earth era of Pol Pot’s regime in Cambodia between 1975-1979, when the Khmer Rouge systematically murdered, starved, or worked to death at least 25% of the population.  At least 1.5 million people died in this genocide of “purification,” sometimes for no greater offense than they wore eyeglasses or spoke a little French.  The horror was absolute – cruelty unsurpassed in human history.  Millions of people spoke only in whispers, made soup from grass and tree bark to survive, ate roaches, rats or earthworms as their only protein source.  Mothers watched their babies swung by their legs against trees because soldiers didn’t want to waste the bullet to kill them.  High schools and hospitals were turned into carnivals of torture.  Mothers, sisters, brothers, and children were raped, mutilated, and killed right in front of you and there was nothing you could say or do about it.  After years of that, you didn’t even have tears left to shed.  This is the reality Somaly grew up in, and the subsequent decades of hunger, shock, and hopelessness that blanketed the country.  

Now, tell me Somaly hasn’t suffered enough - at least to earn our attempt at understanding - without your voice wavering.      

3. People act in proportion to their desperation.
It’s important to clarify Somaly’s indiscretion if we are going to pass judgment.  Her organization wasn’t a sham, she didn’t cheat people, and funds were not misappropriated.  Instead, Somaly’s heinous crime was that she lied – seemingly manufacturing a backstory that was consistent with the victims she was trying to save - to garner funds to help innocent children from being kidnapped, raped, and sexually exploited. 

People act in proportion to their desperation, and faced with insurmountable suffering all around her - that the world had forgotten - perhaps she did what was necessary to help quiet the screams.  Sit with that for a moment. 

4. Culture.
There are acute cultural differences between the United States or the western world and Cambodia that muddy the clear waters of our condemnation.  For instance, in Cambodia it’s very rude to directly say, “no” to someone.  This often leads to hilarious encounters for the traveller or expatriate as we navigate hundreds of gently deflected mistruths in the name of politeness, like taking 3 left turns instead of a right.  I’m not saying that’s the case in Somaly’s situation but I do know there are a lot of cultural differences at play as we translate her narrative into our western consciousness. 

5. Corruption.
The mechanics of Cambodia are corrupt to their core – there’s no other way of saying it - as is the case in most poor developing countries.  In the modern history of Khmer society, the only absolute most people have known is the daily scramble for survival while a tiny circle of ultra-rich fatten themselves on the sacred cow of their birthright.  The deck is stacked and the commoner will always lose.  As far as these people know, that’s the way it always has been and how it will always be.  You want truth?  Power is the only truth in Cambodia, a belly full of rice, the only honesty.  No one bothered showing up to work at the Ministry of Justice today, and the Department of Corruption is the nicest building in town.  I’ve heard of a general’s wife accepting an award for humanitarian work from the foreign community in the past, while at the same time she was one of the biggest human sex traffickers in Cambodia.  Now that we’ve recalibrated the moral spectrum, where does Somaly’s well-intentioned lie rank?



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6. Marketing is about telling stories.
A good story promotes your cause far better than all of the hard work and good intentions in the world.  As much as we despise this reality, we equally respond to it.  If Somaly were just another poor Cambodian woman crying for the world’s help, would we have listened?  Would the international community have picked her up and passed her to the front?  Probably not.  I know this because I meet people here in Cambodia all the time who do incredible, selfless work to help the disenfranchised but have to close their community centers and suspend operations because of a lack of international attention and funding.  A good story is the core, and then you circle your good deeds around that.

This situation reminds me intimately of Greg Mortensen’s dilemma last year, when he fell from grace amid allegations that he fabricated parts of his remarkable story.  Author of, Three Cups of Tea, about his near-death experiences in the mountains of Pakistan and Afghanistan that led him to build schools for poor and isolated kids there, he went from best-selling author, media darling, and humanitarian of the year to scorned pariah in the blink of an eye once 60 Minutes and others poked holes in his story. 

The world of spin and attention-grabbing headlines is not the same as the real world, yet we continue to canonize our heroes and drag our villains through the streets of public opinion, quickly forgetting why we loved them in the first place.  How quickly we abandon the pure causes they championed in order to join the rabid mob.

To put the ultra-competitive, cutthroat world of NGO’s (non-governmental organizations) in context, probably the biggest and most popular charitable org here is the Cambodian Children’s Fund, founded by Australian Hollywood movie mogul, Scott Neesun.  Here is his story: 

Scott was one of the most successful people Hollywood, President of 20th Century Fox International, and had the wealth and privilege to prove it.  But in 2003, on a trip to Cambodia, he came across the garbage dumps of Steung Meanchey.  There he witnessed a little 9-year old girl, barefoot and dressed in rags, picking through broken glass and syringes looking for food or something of value to sell.  Through an interpreter he found out that she lived there among the trash with her sister and mother, and that’s how they survived.

Despite all of Scott’s money and accomplishments, he just couldn’t turn his back on that little girl, and all the kids born into those same circumstances in Cambodia.  So he walked away from his star-lit Hollywood life and instead dedicated himself to helping those children.  Since 2004, Neeson's charity has helped house, educate and provide health care for more than 1,450 children in the country's most desperate slums.  

Great story, huh?  I’m sure Scott is a great man and does great work, but there’s no coincidence that his ultra-marketable riches-to-rags story helped propel his organization a lot faster than if he was just another caring tourist. 

There’s a corollary to this story that will conclude my point.  I do some charity work with a wonderful school here in Cambodia, the Spitler School in a poor village outside Siem Reap.  American businessman, Danny Spitler, and his wife founded it about 8 years ago after they visited Cambodia and had a similar epiphany as Scott Neeson.  They started funding a humble school in the village along with a caring local man, which has grown into two large school compounds that help educate and empower over 800 children a year, every year.  But Danny doesn’t have a slick PR campaign and a Rolodex filled with Hollywood insiders so the marketing has lagged behind the angel’s work they do.  We just released a collaborative book, Cambodia’s School of Hope, to remedy that problem, but you get my point – marketing is storytelling, and there’s no playing field where it’s more important than non-profits and fundraising.    

7. Great people have great flaws.
Some of the greatest people in history are megalomaniacs, passionate to a fault, hurtful to those around them, and have egos the size of beach balls.  Think of Steve Jobs, Pablo Picasso, and the archetype of just about any other eccentric genius throughout history.  The same personality traits that lead people to greatness manifest as great flaws.  I think it’s important to tolerate the flaws if we celebrate the greatness.  Perhaps, Somaly is one of those people.  

8. Who are we to criticize?
What have we done to help the little girls being raped and sold into sexual slavery in Cambodia, or anywhere?  What do we do for charity?  What have we sacrificed?  Are we quick to criticize but slow to act?  Let me put this as delicately as possible…if you’re licking your chops to criticize Somaly but not doing a whole lot to make this world a better place, then shut the hell up and go away.

9. Are we innocent?
If we want to start stacking stones of right and wrong on the scales, let’s make sure they’re all up there.  The United States has done plenty of terrible things in this part of the world and hurt countless innocent people for the sake of money, power, or ideology, many of which I never realized until I came here and saw with my own eyes.  We’ve also done a lot of good things that genuinely help people.  But Asia is a maddeningly complex theater of the world where everyone is guilty during some act.  So before we point fingers at Somaly, one poor Cambodian woman who’s guilty of being overzealous to rally the world’s attention around the pure cause of defending children - let’s make sure our own hands aren’t dirty, too.  

10. Would you do the same?  
If you were faced with these same conditions and circumstances, and you honestly thought that to make a real difference in these girl’s lives you had to exaggerate a backstory, would you lie to help them?  Would you perpetrate a small wrong to achieve a whole lot of right?  Would you do the same as Somaly? 

Based on that paradox, would it have been unlawful for her not to lie, if it meant she wouldn’t be empowered to help all of those women and girls?    

I don’t know what the right answer is.  Or, I guess the whole point is that there's not one right answer, but I do know this; Somaly, in all of her flaws and faults, indiscretions and imperfections, has done more to spread light than most of us, myself included, will do in 100 lifetimes.  Yet, we find ourselves in this unfortunate place because she did violate our trust, and trust is perhaps the one thing worth more than money - something so precious and fragile, it’s rarely recoverable.  

But if you could look into the eyes of the Cambodian girls she’s rescued, hear there joyful voices say, “arkoun, ohn,"– “thank you, sister,” to Somaly, you’d realize it’s not the only thing. 

-Norm   :-)

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My mission - to find the best hamburger in Cambodia.

5/31/2014

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This will be a quick blog because time is running out – I only have 7 or 8 minutes until an acute case of Food Coma strikes and I’m reduced to a sloth-like state for the next 12 hours.  But first, I want to tell you about my mission this Saturday evening – to find the best hamburger in Phnom Penh, Cambodia.

I started with a Google search and a little reading and made a short list.  I only had one hard rule – I wanted a Khmer (Cambodian) burger joint, not a Western or expat restaurant that served burgers.  There are plenty of good U.S. or Australian joints with great burgers (Pickled Parrot on 104, Larry’s on 100, or FreeBird) but I wanted the local version of the American classic.

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The consensus choice ended with Mike’s House of Burgers, a spot located in a distant neighborhood, sharing a parking lot with a gas station.  So I called up Sam Sam the Tuk Tuk Man, my trusty driver, friend, and spiritual advisor in matters like these, and asked him to accompany me (and drive,) who assured me he’d be right over.   I waited extra long to leave my hotel room because I know Sam Sam is a man not to be rushed, but he still hadn’t arrived.  Calling Sam Sam was no help, because he assured me he’d be right there, like he always does whether he is 2 hours away or around the corner (Khmer people refuse to use the word, “no,” which makes for some entertaining situations.)  I spent the next half hour fending off other tuk tuk drivers who swarmed and battered me with offers to take me to the airport, go shoot an AK47, or punch me in the stomach for a dollar (our usual favorite game.) 

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Sam Sam finally pulled up and we shot off through traffic, around traffic, and even against traffic until we found Mike’s House of Burgers on Russian Boulevard by the Sokimex petrol pumping station.  My first impression was that it’s sort of the House of Wax version of In and Out Burger and indeed, Mike – the Cambodian owner who escaped his war torn country in the 1970’s under Pot Pol and the Khmer Rouge, found refuge in the United States and grew to love the American culinary fare, the hamburger.  He returned decades later and opened his own Cambodian version in 2009, to please his wife who couldn’t find a decent burger in their re-emmigrated homeland, so the story goes.  

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Sam Sam and I looked over the menu, including options for Mekong River fish burgers, chicken burgers, a Super Cry chilli burger, and the Chopstick Long burger.  We settled on classics – a double with bacon and a single with bacon for Sam Sam.  I offered to buy Sam Sam the $16 New Crazy Lion special – which includes something gaudy like 5 burger paddies, 10 pieces of bacon, 4 buns, a few fried eggs thrown in, and enough cheese to constipate every Cambodian national south of Siem Reap.  He vehemently declined.  We also ordered fries to share (not worth eating) and Cokes with free refills.  Sam Sam was extra enthusiastic about the free refills, and explained how they work to me as much as his limited English vocabulary would allow, “You go back again again drink drink never leave!”

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We got our grub and it was damn good – great quality burger meet, the real bacon not the packaged kind, and a doughy bun that was far better than most of them I’ve eaten stateside. 

Of course, a Cambodian burger joint has plenty of southeast Asian nuances to ponder as I ate.   There was the shelf of muscle-building protein powders and Pepto Bismol, a disturbingly comprehensive display of Cheerios boxes for sale, and how many restaurants in the U.S. have portraits of military generals and their wives mounted over the soda machine?  

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My stomach must be shrinking from eating smaller meals of rice, noodles, and the occasional barbecued snake, because I could barely finish my burger.  From the looks of it, Sam Sam was in noticable gastronomical discomfort himself, though it could be from smothering his fries with half bottle of hot sauce.  

I was ready to go but waited patiently for him to put down 3 more free refills of Coke.  “I so much hambugger me, I no can eat tomorrow!” he said with half a tomato hanging from his lip.  With that cue to leave, we bowed goodbye to the staff at Mike’s and stumbled out into the Phnom Penh night, greeted by the dangerously mingled smells of car petrol and cigarette smoke. 


-Norm  :-)


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Jenny and Jenna's Big Day Out!  

5/20/2014

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A few weeks back, I was introduced to Jenny and Jenna, two Cambodian sisters.  Like a lot of people in Cambodia, they are very poor, but Jenny and Jenna are also orphans - they're dad died when they were young and their mother abandoned them.  They had to raise themselves and had no one to care for them and not enough food most days.  But thanks to a wonderful American gentleman named Cowboy Bart, who does a lot of good work in Cambodia through his organization, Kids at Risk Cambodia.org, they were put into better circumstances, under the guardianship of a family with enough to eat and even the chance to go to school some days.  Life was still hard and they were still dirt poor but they were together, and things were a little better.

I met Cowboy Bart by chance one day and was invited to go out into the rural province to visit Jenny and Jenna.  We went along with Keep Calm and Keep Hope, two Cambodian medical students who work tirelessly to help the girls and be their advocates.  The trip was incredible and I instantly wanted to help - you can read about it here.  

Now, Cowboy, Keep Calm, and Keep Hope have arranged for Jenny and Jenna to attend a good government school and live in a better situation up in Siem Reap, four hours north of their current province and the home to the wonder of world, Angkor Wat.  But before they transitioned into their new life, we wanted to give them one last ridiculously fun going away party.  Instead of throwing the party out in the jungle province where they live, we decided to bring them to the big capital city, Phnom Penh, to celebrate.  It's the first time they've ever been in the big city, and a lot of other firsts for them, in what became, "Jenny and Jenna's Big Day Out!"  Watch the video here:
We sent a tuk tuk to the province to pick them up, driven by my trusty local driver, nicknamed Rambo.  He brought them back, along with the grandmother that looks after them, to my favorite restaurant in the capital city of Phnom Penh, Larry's 110.  We met the girls with big hugs, balloons, and brand new backpacks, filled with pencils, pens, dry erase boards, pink notebooks, stickers, and cool sunglasses for their Big Day Out.  

From there, our caravan galavanted around the city for a full day of fun.  It was also a day of firsts for Jenny and Jenna - the first time they'd been in the capital, or any city, the first time they'd seen fancy cars, eaten in a regular restaurant, and had their own backpack.  It was also the first time they ever had pizza, first time on an escalator and elevator, and believe it or not, we found the one and only ice rink in Cambodia so the girls could go ice skating!  

It was probably the most joy and appreciation I've ever experienced from another human being, and I had a blast just watching the smiles on their faces.  It was interesting, too, at their reactions to everything so new.  For instance, they first took their flip flops off at the front door of the restaurant before walking in, like you'd do at any home in Asia, and they needed a little help with a knife and form, so used to eating with their hands.  I loved watching them try to figure out the menu, and they were full after one piece but were more concerned with trying to feed everyone else, a sign of thanks and appreciation in their culture.  They also didn't want to do the touristy things of visiting temples or sites like that - they wanted to see the big, bright, modern shopping mall and even a modern grocery store!  They'd never seen a store mannequin before and laughed so hard at that, were amazed by the big, crystal-clear televisions, and stopped to ogle every thing shiny.  But they never ever asked for one thing all day - not one single thing.  It was beyond their comprehension that poor orphans like them could even own something.  They had fun pushing their ice cream into my face and we all kept each other from falling on the ice skating rink.  They absolutely went bonkers chasing the pigeons in front of the royal palace.

But it wasn't all fun and games - we made sure to drive by the local university's medical school and take photos.  Part of the goal of this Big Day Out was to expand their world view - to expose them to the modern world and lift their ceiling to what's possible.  Keep Calm and Keep Hope are such amazing, generous, and wonderful mentors to these girls, and Jenny and Jenna say they want to follow in their footsteps studying medicine.  It would be a good start if they could even get into school consistently, but now, they can say they were at a university and maybe won't be as intimidated.

We all ended the day happy but exhausted, with a round of hamburgers and big hugs goodbye at Larry's before Rambo put the girls and the grandmother on the tuk tuk for the long ride back to their province.

Here's the deal - Jenny and Jenna should be able to go to a better school very soon in Siem Reap, with Cowboy Bart, Keep Calm, Keep Hope, and myself as their advocates.  We've even raised some funds thanks to your generous donations to help with their living expenses, clothing, food, and cost of education.  But they need more support in order to have a shot at a better life, not just pizza and fun videos one day and then we all forget about them.  And there are millions of kids in Cambodia, and probably a billion around the world, who are desperately poor and suffering, and just need a little help.  

So please  share this blog and video, tell others, and read some of my other blogs about poverty in Cambodia and the world, including your back yard.  If you'd like to help Jenny and Jenna or any of the other projects we have going on, please drop me an email.  

And THANK YOU for being a part of Jenny and Jenna's Big Day Out!!!!!

Norm  :-)

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New book, 'Cambodia's School of Hope,' explores a school that educates and empowers impoverished youth.

5/14/2014

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I'm proud to announce the release of the book, Cambodia's School of Hope, a collaboration effort between myself and the children and staff at the Spitler School in Siem Reap, Cambodia.  The story of how the school came to be, and what they're doing to educate and empower children in poor Cambodia, is truly remarkable.  Read about it below and grab the eBook on Amazon.com.  We'll have a print version available soon.  100% of profits from book sales are going directly to keep funding this kids' educations!  

Thank you in advance for your support and caring about these kids!

-Norm  :-)


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Cambodia's School of Hope.

A chance meeting in an exotic land on the other side of the globe.  A local guide trying to raise money to build a well in his poor village.  Hundreds of Cambodian school children who didn’t have a school to attend, or sometimes enough food, clean water, or medical care.  

What unfolded next is truly amazing.

The story begins in April of 2005, when Danny and Pam Spitler visited Siem Reap, Cambodia to see the famous temples of Angkor Wat.  During their four-day visit to the area their tour guide was a young Cambodian gentleman by the name of Chea Sarin. Over the course of their visit, it became clear that he cared deeply for the plight of the poor villagers in his country and especially for the children.  He told the Spitlers that the lack of clean drinking water was the cause of many health problems among the village children.

At the end of their tour the Spitlers decided to donate enough money to provide one of these wells to a poor village.  Sarin sent them photos of the well being built and then when it was finished.  A few weeks later, Sarin asked them if they would consider helping him start a school at a very poor village located about nine kilometers outside of Siem Reap.  The Spitlers agreed. 

The initial concept was to build one building, using lumber and thatch construction, with a dirt floor.  The building would be divided into two classrooms in anticipation of about 60 students.  With a construction budget of less than $1,000 Sarin was able to complete the building in just a few weeks and had money left over to build some rudimentary wooden tables, which the students could use for desks.

To the surprise of Sarin and the Spitlers, almost 100 children signed up to attend the school.  Classes began in July 2005, and additional students continued to arrive, and soon the school was serving 120 students by offering half the students classes in the morning and the other half in the afternoon.  Sarin was able to purchase supplies for the students and the classroom at an average cost of about $1 per student per month, and two well-qualified teachers were hired for salaries of $70 per month each.

Given the response from the village, the Spitlers decided to provide additional funds so that Sarin could build two more buildings and hire four additional teachers.   Sarin accomplished all of this within six weeks and when the school opened for the regular school year in September 2005 the school was able to accommodate 190 students in kindergarten through second grade.

Over the years, the Spitler School has continued to flourish and grow, and now a second school, the Kurata School, is open.  Thanks to Sarin, the Spitlers, the Spitler Foundation, and donors and volunteers from all over the world, over 800 children are now being educated and given a better chance to get out of poverty.  The school also undertakes many community projects like building roads, delivering food, trash pickup and recycling, and medical advocacy for the children.

The Spitlers and Sarin have been recognized as widely as the Cambodian government and the U.S. White House for their efforts but they do it all to give these children a brighter future, not for any accolades.  What started out as a chance meeting between strangers from different parts of the world turned into something so meaningful and special to so many people – Cambodia’s school of hope.

This book tells the story of the Spitler School and looks into the lives of the children who attend, their families, their village, and the beautiful, yet challenged, country of Cambodia. 

100% of the profits from this book are going directly to the Spitler School Foundation to help these children. 

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This is gonna be fun!

5/11/2014

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A couple weeks ago, I told you about how I got involved with Kids at Risk Cambodia, a small non-profit run by a colorful character from the U.S. named Cowboy Bart.  Bart and I rode out into the province here, together with the Cambodian medical students Keep Calm and Keep Hope, to visit two orphan sisters that Kids at Risk has been supporting.

Meeting Jenny and Jenna was a life-changing experience and I immediately jumped in to help any way I could - fund raising, building the organization a new website, and sharing their stories with you.  Thanks to your generous donations, we were able to buy them school supplies, art supplies, and some new clothing, which Keep Calm and Keep Hope delivered to the ecstatic and appreciative sisters.  

We also  got the good news that Jenny and Jenna have been accepted into a NGO's school program up in Siem Reap (a tourist city and home to Angkor Wat, about 5 hours to the north.)  The sisters are excited about the opportunity to go to school every day and have the stability of a roof over their heads in their new home, and Kids at Risk is still going to be a sponsor that helps pay for their education, food, clothing, and living expenses, and we'll always be advocates to make sure the girls are healthy and happy.    

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Now, we're planning something bigger that's going to be insanely fun.  While planning the next visit to the girls in the province, Keep Calm and Keep Hope and I came up with the idea to throw them a nice goodbye party, something they've never experienced before.  As we brainstormed about what we could do for them, the med students came up with the brilliant idea to bring the girls to the big city of Phnom Penh for the party, not bring the party to them!  They told me that the sisters had never been to Phnom Penh, even though it's only an hour away, never have eaten pizza, never have had a cake for themselves, and never been into a toy store, movie theater, amusement park, etc.  

So, around May 20 we're going to surprise Jenny and Jenna and give them the best day of their lives.  We're going to send a tuk tuk out to them, but they'll surely be puzzled when we're not in it.  Instead, there will be balloons on it and instructions to hop in and the driver will take them to the city, where we'll greet them.  From there, it will be an action-packed day of spoiling the girls rotten with all the things most kids take for granted; ice cream along the river walk, a pizza party, gifts at the Toys Land play center, and the Dream Land amusement park, just to name a few. This will all be paid for out of my own pocket, not with any money from the organization.

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How special will this be for them?  Remember that these are girls who, until Kids at Risk came into their lives, were used to sleeping outdoors on wooden benches in the jungle, scavenge for food, owned one pair of raggedy clothes, never had medical care, never went to school, and had no mother or father or relatives to show them love.  Now, they're going to get the superstar treatment they deserve!  

I can't wait to see the expressions on their faces, as these girls show the brightest smiles you've ever seen just when you buy them a Coca Cola!  I honestly think this could be the most fun day I've ever had in my life.  But of course it's not just about giving them toys and too much sugar - I want to take them on a quick tour of the university here in Phnom Penh, show them middle class and professional women at work, and also drive them by the U.S. embassy, just so they can get a taste of what's possible if they keep dreaming big.  The medical students and I will also help the girls transition up to Siem Reap and visit them at their new school in early June.  Our commitments to Jenny and Jenna are for life, but in the meantime, let's party!    

Yup, this is gonna be fun!  

- Norm   :-) 

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These are a few of the sites and activities Jenny and Jenna will enjoy on their big day in Phnom Penh!  I'll be sure to post plenty of photos and details of the party.  

Please contact me if you'd like to make a donation to help support the girls or other children in need in Cambodia .    
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When you travel, is it wrong to take photos of people living in poverty?

3/18/2014

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I recently met a new friend in Cambodia, a very kind and conscious American woman from Denver who is traveling in Southeast Asia.  She asked me a question so insightful I had to write a blog to answer it properly.  Here is her inquiry, paraphrased:

When I travel to poor countries I rarely take photos of people. I see so many art shows with photographs of the impoverished but it seems these people are no longer sentient beings - they become impersonalized backdrops at dinner parties, objectified as oppressed beings.  I struggle with this.  How do you feel when you photograph people who live in poverty?

Here is my answer:

First off, great observation!  I think about that all the time as I travel or live in Third World countries and photograph people, many of them living in desperate poverty.  I ask myself, “Am I just being a tourist in their suffering?  Am I one of those people taking photos who think, ‘Oh look at all the starving dirty people in hovels - these pictures of their suffering will look great on my Facebook!  My friends back home will think so highly of me.  I feel SO good about myself for taking an hour out of my day to go visit their slum/orphanage/village, and now that I’ve got the photos I can go back to my air conditioned luxury hotel.’"

My answer is always “Hell no!” but that’s the stark reality of too many tourists I see.  A while back I even read an article about a South African hotel that was replicating the impoverished shanty experience.  They weren’t bringing people into the shanty towns to let them experience a small part of the life of the poor, but were mocking it by building their own shanties complete with a few high-end amenities, right on the hotel grounds.  That’s just dead wrong.  But what about the casual traveler who can’t help pulling his camera that costs more than the local people in his finder make in two years? 

So much of photographing people as you travel comes down to your intentions, but you also have to communicate that intention, often within seconds and without words.  I travel into some of the most impoverished areas in the world and take photographs without conflict or any problems with the locals.  In fact, when I leave I’ve spread good will and hopefully helped them in some tangible way…AND still got authentic photos I’ll cherish.  How do I do that?

1. When possible, I ask people if I can shoot a photo of them.  Of course that loses spontaneity but if we've already made eye contact, said hello, or they see me, I'll smile and ask politely if I can take a photo, and then thank them profusely afterward.  It may not sound like much, but it shows respect when you ask permission.

2. Many times I compensate them - a dollar here or there for taking their photo and sticking my nose and camera into their business.  They’re always appreciative of that, no matter what the amount. 

3. I ask myself how I would feel if someone stuck a camera in my face at that given moment.  If I was eating dinner with my family or worshipping or in a compromising position then I might construe it as rude, but generally if someone is kind and interested in me as a human being, not just a an object for a photograph, then I’d be happy to have them document our connection. 

4. Sometimes I take photos with them, not just of them.  Once we’ve said hello, exchanged a smile or a laugh, and it feels appropriate, I’ll ask if I can take a photo with them, side by side as new friends.  I’ve always found people to be honored and excited to be seen as such. 

5. More than anything, I try to use the photo and my experience in their homeland to help them.  I do that by writing about their lives, telling their stories to the world.  Whether it's a blog, a fundraising campaign, or a whole book about their existence, that's my way of creating awareness for who they are and what help they may need on a bigger scale.

6. I educate myself about their country, the conditions of their lives, and the social ills affecting them, and then always make a donation before I leave.  Instead of giving money to beggars on the street (which is often counterproductive by encouraging more begging and exploitation of children) I make a donation directly to a credible charitable organization that’s serving them.   

7. Lastly, I smile and try to show love and respect to anyone I meet, regardless if I photograph them or not.  I think it's so important to do that - my way of showing that I acknowledge them as fellow human beings and equals.  Everywhere I’ve gone, I’ve found that respect and friendship are commodities just as powerful as money.

***

-Norm   :-)

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What's your best advice for young adults looking to travel and where are the best places to go?

2/5/2014

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I received an email from a reader the other day with these questions:  

"What would be the best advice for young adults trying to travel or move out the country?  And which countries are best to move to?"

Super questions!  My best advice for young adults trying to move out of the country would be to travel while you’re young.  Do it now when you don’t mind long bus rides and bad beds and you don’t have a lot keeping you back in the states  (or your home country.)  Life has a way of anchoring you as you go on, and pretty soon you might have a good job, an apartment lease, car payments, a house, or a relationships or marriage that keeps you grounded.  So do it now!  

I would also suggest that you form a plan how you are going to fund the trip a good ways out – maybe 6 months? - and work your butt off until that date arrives.  You’ll have to sacrifice a lot; eating out, nights partying with friends, the newest clothes or concert tickets, but all of that money will be essential if you’re going to travel. In that time you have to prepare, read everything you can about your destination countries, learn about the cultures, watch documentaries, and read some travel articles and books that will give you a taste of real life on the road, too. 

Last thing: be careful.  The rest of the world is not a fantasy land and most people have problems that we can’t even imagine in the US.  So getting too drunk, walking around alone, messing with drugs, getting in with the wrong crowd, etc. could lead you into situations you can’t get out of.  Slow play the partying and keep your eyes open and you’ll be fine.  

The other question, "Where should you go?"

That all depends on what you’re looking for, but I’m going to take a wild guess and say you want someplace warm, with a beach, that’s not too expensive, where there are other backpackers?  That opens up one set of possibilities, but others want to volunteer, or to experience authentic culture more than partying and lying on the beach.  It also makes a huge difference if you’re just going backpacking around or trying to live there for a year and work.

When I chose a country to live in (not just vacation!) I have a rough guide of criteria, based on priorities.  Make your own list and then do some research what might be a good fit.    

Tier 1
• Cheap – lodging around $300-$500 a month, total budget around $1,500 a month.
• Nice beach – a beautiful white sand beach goes a long way in balancing out all other factors!
• Friendly people – Then again, I don’t care how beautiful a country is, if the people aren’t warm and friendly, I’ll keep it moving.  I’m not down with snobbery or arrogance.
• Safe politically – don’t be freaked out by one news story in a country (if we judged the US by that same standard we’d never want to visit!) but also don’t mess with places where a coup or political violence is occurring.  Same thing goes for countries with terrorism, religious radicals, or drug cartel problems.
• Good WIFI (no kidding – I write/work as I live abroad so I’m screwed without a serviceable internet connection)
• City, town, or village?  There are pros and cons to each as you balance amenities, convenience, laid back vibe, nature, etc.

Tier 2
• Healthy, cheap food – I want to say “Yummmmm,” for $3 a meal, not for $7 a meal and up.  
• Culture – things to do like visiting temples, ruins, archeological sites, natural wonders, etc.
• Night life – of course you want a little bit of fun, but are you looking for mellow beach bars or clubbing all night long?
• Safety walking the streets
• Ability to get work –teaching English, teaching yoga, or working at a hostel or bar are some of the best possibilities for local employment
• Some tourism, but not overrun – the problem you’ll encounter is that the places you want to go, everyone else in the world wants to go there, too.  The trick is to find a place that is ahead of the curve, not way behind it when it will be too crowded/too expensive/soulless.  
• Diversity of population – I like a place that has a healthy blend of backpackers, expatriates, vactioners, and plenty of locals who still live there – not just work there.  That’s harder to find than you’d think!


Tier 3
• Speak some English – you should attempt to learn the local lingo but it really helps when they speak a few words of English.
• Proximity – The southern tip of Patagonia in Argentina is amazing, but don’t think you’re just a hop, skip, and jump away from main cities.  It’s fun to be in a city/country where you can get around easily, hopping buses and even small flights around the country or region easily.  
• Good gym – since I’m living in these countries I want to go to the gym every day and especially love boxing or muay thai, etc., but maybe you just want to surf or do yoga, etc.
• Family friendly – I like locations that don’t just have a bunch of 20 year old kids but a cross section of real life, including families and people who are old (my age.)

Based on those criteria, some great spots I’d suggest:  Costa Rica, Panama, Nicaragua, Colombia, Ecuador, Peru, Cuba (I’m dying to go there!), India, Sri Lanka, Israel, Jordan, Ghana, Senegal, Vietnam (good one,) Cambodia, Thailand (a little too touristy for my liking,) Laos, Mynmar, the Philippines, and Bali in Indonesia.  That’s a short list.  You can do the Caribbean and Europe when you’re older, plus they’re a little too expensive. 

I hope that helps, and happy travels!

-Norm  :-)

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Why am I helping fund a book project at a poor school in Cambodia?

2/2/2014

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To answer, let me first introduce you to the Spitler School, a private elementary school in the rural village of Ang Chagn Chass outside Siem Reap in rural Cambodia, founded and funded by an American businessman and a great Cambodian social worker.  The children in that village are very poor like most kids here, and without the school most of them would be in the fields working instead of getting any sort of education.  To illustrate just how important this school is, let me give you a few statistics about child poverty in Cambodia:

  • About 66% of the country lives in poverty and over one third of the population lives below the desperate poverty line, defined as 45 cents a day.
  • More than 50% of people in Cambodia are under 21 years old.
  • The number of street children in Cambodia is increasing at a rate of 20% per year.  They are often forced into begging, crime, or the sex industry.
  • A large portion of children between the ages of 5 and 17 are already working to survive, nearly 700,000 in a country of 14 million.  Of those, nearly 75% of them have dropped out of school.
  • Almost 40 percent of children in Cambodia are malnourished, often just existing on a couple portions of rice a day.
  • Girls always suffer the worst from the effects of this poverty and lack of societal safety net, as they basically have no opportunities in life if their basic education is discontinued.  

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But here’s the great news – there is a proven, direct solution to improve their circumstances almost immediately and start reversing the cycles of desperate poverty!  It’s been shown time and again, all over the world, that educating and empowering girls first, and then women, is the best way to improve the quality of their lives, the lives of families and then whole communities.  The problem is daunting but the solution is crystal clear and well within reach!

So what are we doing about it?  
With your help, we're putting together a book with stories and essays (in Khmer and English) and photos and drawings by the kids.  We’ll also add information about their lives, the village they live in, their school, and Cambodia.  It But instead of just printing out a few copies and pass them out to the kids, we’re going to self publish the book and sell it via Amazon.com online, in both print and eBook formats. 

That means the world will know these children’s stories, and these children will have direct access to an unlimited international audience, changing their lives and broadening their possibilities forever.  All of the money from book sales will go right back to funding the Spitler school and the children’s continued education in perpetuity.  We expect this to become a yearly project and hope to expand to other schools and countries, giving kids all over the world a chance to stay in school and gain the education needed to nudge them out of poverty.

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To get started, I am trying to raise $5k to cover the nuts and bolts of the project – like publishing  costs, printing, transportation, research expenses, and producing the book as a legitimate published commodity that we can sell worldwide.

How can you help?  
Please watch a short video about the school, read more, or make a humble donation at:

http://www.gofundme.com/6l1pbk

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    Norm Schriever

    Norm Schriever is a best-selling author, expat, cultural mad scientist, and enemy of the comfort zone. He travels the globe, telling the stories of the people he finds, and hopes to make the world a little bit better place with his words.   

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