Something I Don’t Get to Do Every Day

Checking out a rubber manufacturing plant in Cambodia (please tell me you haven’t done this…)

On a recent trip to Cambodia, our small group of foreigners got to tour a rubber plant in Kampong Cham province.  Not only was this something one doesn’t get to do every day, but we almost didn’t get to do it that day either.  There were union protests taking place in the capital city of Phnom Penh and the guards at our rubber factory thought we might be coming to incite a riot.  Fortunately our tour organizer was from that province and somehow knew the right things to say. We all paid $1 to get in. This was a very self-guided tour.  This was the full extent of our supervision as we roamed the premises at will.

I'm glad they told us.
I’m glad they told us.

Rubber tree sap is white and really quite beautiful.  It’s collected a little like maple sap used in making maple syrup.  There’s the hole in the tree trunk, a little spigot and a pail.  I’m not sure how they get the sap from the grove to the processing building but once there it’s put in long storage vats and a chemical is added. The sap solidifies. It looks a lot like cheese (mozarella).

the grove in background, (bananas in front)
the grove in background, (bananas in front)
Beautiful, white, rubber sap
Beautiful, white, rubber sap
Sap in vats
Sap in vats
Solidified rubber floats to next step
Solidified rubber floats to next step
Raw, solidified rubber
Raw, solidified rubber

The long flats of raw rubber go into a drying machine where they are chopped up and dried.  I’m actually making this all up because there was no one to tell us what was really happening but we got a pretty good idea just by the looks of things. These are the drying machines.

the dryers
the dryers

The rubber is not as attractive when it is dried – yellow/brown and dense.  It comes from the dryers, still on it’s conveyor belt and drops into a compressor where it’s made into blocks.

into the compressor
into the compressor
compressed block
compressed block
block of rubber on its way to....
block of rubber on its way to….
this guy with the knife who was very busy. I have no idea why he was doing this.
…this guy with the knife who was very busy. I have no idea why he was doing this.
we got samples of rubber to take home
we got samples of rubber to take home

The blocks of rubber are trucked out to other factories where they are made into various rubber things.  Rubber bands?  I don’t know.  This is where our tour ended.  There were about eight of these long open buildings but this was the only one that was in operation at the time.  It appeared to be off-season for rubber.  This is a very warm climate and the buildings are open, as I said, and didn’t have fans – only natural ventilation.  The workers were often shirtless, shoeless and definitely were not wearing hard hats or protective anything around the machinery.  Evidently there aren’t a lot of lawsuits in Cambodia.  We were free to walk around the machinery, through the plant, touching, poking and asking questions without interference.  It was really quite interesting.

What things are still made with real rubber? Do you know?

Back at Home

Cambodia, what a time it was! This time last week I was still on the other side of the world saying goodbye to everyone and now it feels like it was ages ago. I made so many new friends, strengthened bonds with others, wandered a bit out of my comfort zone and survived. I saw God doing the things he does best – changing people.

One of the joys of travel is getting to come home again, back to a life that seems familiar but altered and fresh in some weird way.  I love being home again.

It’s taking me forever to get all my photos of Cambodia in one place and organized.  I put an album up on facebook but didn’t have the heart to tell people that it was only half of the pictures that I had taken.  The rest have yet to be posted. One thing I did take time to put up was a new profile picture of me in my tuktuk riding garb.  I was told more than once that I looked like Audrey Hepburn (when all of her facial features and hair were covered up… right, striking resemblance.) We all rode around with masks because of the dust and because of the Stinky River, aka open sewer running along our street.  It’s a good look and I’m thinking of trying it here at home.

dressing for tuktuk ride
dressing for tuktuk ride

Back in my usual Florida life I’ve been cleaning house, washing clothes, grocery shopping, going to work AND buying a different car.  Different as opposed to new.  I am now a proud Mazda owner, zoom, zoom.  It was quite an ordeal and I’m going to write about it in a different post but for now I just want to say hi to the guy who  drew up the final papers, the one and only Jim Carey.  Not really, but he did look and act just like him and can you imagine what it would be like – in a movie, buying a car from Jim Carey? I just sat looking at him and not getting over the resemblance, which probably creeped him out a little but he deserved it.  He’s a car salesman.  He did say he wanted to check out my blog and we’ll see if he did the next time I’m in for an oil change.

Have you ever toured a rubber plant?  Well, I have (in Cambodia) and there are pictures to prove it.  Check back in a couple days and you will know all about it.  I’m just sayin’ it was pretty interesting in a third world kind of way…

Eat Here

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In Phnom Penh I stay near the Russian Market and there are a couple of walk to places that are my “comfort” stops. On the list this time was Alma Cafe, a truly Mexican cuisine where you would not
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be expecting to find it. There are two specials for lunch every day,  and they change daily and are also open for breakfast. Tuesday is their day to be closed. I loved everything I ate there.  Get some fresh squeezed limeade to drink. There are things there for gluten free and you can order an awesome veggie breakfast burrito.
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Having Very Little

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These children have just been to Phnom Penh Central Market for their semi-annual shopping experience. They bought $5 to $10 worth of shoes, jeans, or a school bag for each of them. Most of them had never had this experience until they came to Asia’s Hope orphan homes several years ago.

In Cambodia, these are not the children who have very little. These children have a home that is clean, house parents who love them, a school to attend, food to eat and clothes to wear. They have lots of reasons to hope – including knowledge of a God who has a plan for their lives.

Today our team from the U.S. joined with university students from a Cambodian church to visit a nearby slum area and interact with the children there. These children had very little clothing, some had none, there were no parents watching over them, they themsleves were coated with filth and grime and pestilence as were their surroundings. The garbage and stench was unrelenting, everywhere. They came running for the gifts being handed out… a piece of bread, a pencil, a ball. There was not enough for them all and chaos ensued. These are the ones who have very little. If only they could be taken out, one by one, washed with clean water and fed, and then put someplace a little cleaner, safer and friendlier to find hope. I’m just sayin’, we have a real problem here, a real evil to work against.

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Winter comes.

the cold season
the cold season

Hayward, Wisconsin is a place where it snows. The flakes were flying as we drove into town last Thursday for Thanksgiving.  The white blanket covered the ground and the fallen logs where we walked through the woods the next day.  Every gust of wind through the branches of the pines sent snow raining down all around us. At first, the cold was frightening but as I stayed out in it and worked up a sweat, I got used to it.  Now, four days past Thanksgiving, it is snowing again and this time it’s a storm big enough to deserve a name. Cleon.

Our trip into town proved the roads were icy with wet slush.  The sky is one solid, gray cloud that descends down to meet the horizon, cutting the visibility to about a quarter mile. Variations on muted gray, black and white with a little brown thrown in are the only colors nature has today. Things would seem dull if it weren’t for the colored lights and Christmas decorations up and down the streets. Hayward is a small town, a very small town, but it is the only real town in quite a large area of forests and lakes. And it is large enough to have a Walmart, which was a very busy place today.

I grew up here, in the country outside of Hayward.  I left and came back after I was married.  My children were born while I lived here and although I’ve been away again for more than twenty years it is still very homelike to me. My parents and my brother and his family still live in a development on the edge of town, on land that once belonged to my grandfather. We visited Hayward last June when it was all shades of green, brilliant blue skies, fields full of flowers, flowing rivers, and more than it’s share of the world’s mosquitoes. Now it is different.  It is white, very quiet, dark a good deal of the time, and there are no mosquitoes at all.

It is really quite magical to be able to stay in one place and have it change all around you. You would think you had been transported. I’m just sayin’ I am glad to be here for this first big snow of the year.

white on the road
white on the road
white in the woods
white in the woods

Here we go again…

???????????????Here we go again…

I am excited.  It is only hours before a season of travel begins, and instead of getting ready I’m sitting here writing about how I’m not ready.  Thoughts about traveling are fighting to get out of my head.

I am going to my first, original home to be with family and friends, celebrating Thanksgiving.  I love everyone I am going to be with. Even before that, I love talking to strangers in the airport and on the plane.  I love being free to watch what is going on around me and observe people.  There is such freedom in not having a job to do other than keeping bombs from being planted in my luggage. Almost every routine of my daily life is changed to something new.

Flight attendants bring me the beverage of my choice – this happens never at home.

I get to sit in/drive a nearly new car.

I can eat fast food without feeling guilty because it’s about the only choice.

And at my destination I have that unique position of half guest, half helper.  It allows me to work alongside others and see what is going on in their lives.  It means I can stay up late visiting if there’s an opportunity, or get up early and have that first cup of coffee with someone special.  It means I can probably take a nap if I’m tired, or take a couple hours off to write or read.  There’s time to think about living while I’m doing it.

And even while the excitement builds, there’s a conflict. I feel it every time.  I am a split personality when it comes to travel.  There is so much to like about being away, and yet I am as much a home body as anyone could be.  I love my home, the husband, the cats, the yard, the old car, the commitments, the friends, even the job (sort of) (don’t spread that around).  To be happy and involved in one place, you have to lose touch with where you’re not.  And even when I know I’m coming back, there is a bit of sadness in stepping away from the familiar.

Will the husband be able to find food in the refrigerator?

Will my strawberry plants die if we get a freeze?

Will my cat forgive me for being gone?

Will I come back to a mountainous pile of junk mail? Laundry?

Will I be the same person that I was?  Probably not.

I’m just sayin’, here we go again…

Lighthouse at Alki

lighthouse imagesToday, if it were not raining every few  minutes, I would be adventuring (new word, unlike venturing) out to see the lighthouse at Alki Point.  I am surprised that I have not seen it yet in my visits to Seattle, since I am a fan of lighthouses in general.  This one in particular is not far from my daughter’s house.  There is a steady flow of ferries, boats of all kinds, and barges going past the point and visible from the beach – an interesting waterway, to be sure.

I was in a shop at Pike Place Market last week, drawn to the watercolor scenes of Seattle that were in the windows.  The artist herself rummaged around and found several of Alki.  The lighthouse was among them and she recalled having to get special permission on the day she went to paint there, since it was closed to the public.  I am thinking of making that painting my own, my souvenir of Seattle.

You know, a lighthouse is a very hopeful thing.  It’s not like something that you want to rush toward, because in reality it’s telling you to beware of something dangerous.  But it does speak of firm ground somewhere, and of a concern that warns of danger.  It represents a commitment to be always on duty.  Someone is watching out for you and that is the hopeful part.

Cle Elum

Cle Elum

Don’t you love that mysterious sounding name? I could live there.  As it was, I was just visiting a friend for an overnight stay in this small Washington town which was about the same size and “feel” of the town where I grew up.  It’s over the pass and on the other side of the closest mountain range to Seattle and it’s geography gives it a whole different climate.  Over the pass, the sun came out and it got up to 90 degrees (again, not like Florida’s 90 degrees, but drier and with a cooling breeze).

The sights along I-90 going there were tree covered mountains, valleys, and all the expected natural stuff but in addition the marvel of the road itself.  The difficulty of maintaining clear passage in terrain like that was apparent in all the road construction and posted closings for blasting rock.  At least once I remembered thinking “I hope there is a really good geologist who inspected that rocky outcropping that I’m about to drive under”.  Think Reader’s Digest stories and You-tube videos of cars being buried under a slide…

Me, ready to ride out

Our planned outing was a bike ride on one of the local trails. What a great way to get familiar with the lay of the land! We chose the Coal Mine Trail.  It lay totally uphill for the three miles into Roslyn, the town we were heading for.  A gradual incline, to be sure, but how often do I ride bike? (or exercise, for that matter?) And did I mention it was 90 degrees?  When we pulled into the café at our destination and I got off the bike I felt really lightheaded and had to rest for a good bit with a blackberry soda and a sit down.  And of course the return trip would have required no pedaling at all if we had wished.  I was fully restored by the time we got back to Cle Elum.

20130912_184000[2] Does the name Roslyn bring anything to mind? It is the town where “Northern Exposure” was filmed and we visited the Roslyn Café and saw The Brick Pub.  It was a cute small town but evidently not much of a tourist draw in spite of the TV fame.  We went back later by car and drove around looking at the houses on the hillsides, many of them older, in bad condition, or abandoned entirely.  We drove on a few more miles to Ronald and ate dinner at a diner there.

Of the three little towns I experienced, Cle Elum was definitely my favorite.  Because of its proximity to I-90 there was more business, more choices of what to do and where to catch a meal.  Its history included a fire which destroyed many of the homes so most dwellings were newer, well maintained but still in character with the small town ambience.  Honestly, some of the streets were so wide and devoid of lines and stripes that they were like parking lots and made me feel strangely insecure.  The valley around Cle Elum is wide and flat and known for its hay production and exporting.  We visited a large fruit/vegetable market with a three story building housing antiques on the top two floors.  I could easily have spent the whole day looking at things there but as it was, my friend found my souvenir in half an hour so we didn’t stay.  I added a small cast iron turtle to my turtle collection and I was pleased since I didn’t have any iron turtles yet.

Other highlights of the trip: good conversation with my friend and her mom, seeing their charming, newly remodeled residence, relaxing with several episodes of Sherlock Holmes before retiring.  I’m just saying it was a good trip (including the exercise)and I’m glad I went.  And would go back again, for sure.

Commitment

It seems like every time I turn around I am facing a committment of some kind.  Should I go or not go? Should I join or not join?  Should I spend or not spend? Should I quit or keep on? Is there something about autumn that makes all these decisions necessary?

Today I should respond to the detailed email I received over the weekend urging me to buy the airline ticket now if I want to go to Cambodia in December.  This would be my third trip to southeast Asia and to this point I have been saying yes to the venture.  I now have friends in Cambodia that I email, facebook with, and love dearly.  They are expecting me to come and see them again (because I told them I would…) So many new and exciting things have happened over there this year – the new campus in Phnom Penh for the orphan homes, the women’s dorm for university students, many of the children having learned English well enough that real conversations are possible.  I want to go!

And still the moment when I push the online “purchase” button for what seems like such a great deal of money, such a long flight… that is the moment of real committment. And I hesitate because I’m a little bit afraid.  Always.  And as silly as it seems, I always give God the message that if he doesn’t want me over there he will have to prevent my going, somehow.  He and I both know that he could do that and I welcome him having the final say. 

So, here I go on the committment of the day.  Praying that it goes well.

Round Lake

I grew up on a small farm in northern Wisconsin – a place where  nature is not all that friendly to farmers.  Summers are short and cool, winters are seem endless with lots of snow and cold weather.  The area is kept alive by tourism and is a playground for hunters, fishermen, outdoor sports enthusiasts and others who just want to get away from the larger cities in Wisconsin and nearby Minnesota.  I is a land of lakes and I have been on many of them, but my favorite is Round Lake.  Others will say the same.

A road winds past my childhood home, around a small pond and climbs a wooded hill. I spent a lot of time looking at that hill from the front yard and from my second story bedroom window.  At some early point I must have seen some people on horseback riding up the hill at a gallop because I recollect a romantic notion of there being a castle up there waiting for knights to arrive on their steeds.  My family later became friends with the people on the hill since they had children close to our ages.  The hill became Kendall’s Hill and we also came to know their cousins who did indeed visit them on horseback.

For some reason today I started thinking about that hill and the nearby geography and wondered why I had never thought of it in the bigger picture before.  The centerpiece of it, to me, is a beautiful, deep, spring fed lake with a very unimaginative name – Round Lake.  Parts of it might be kind of round, but I would never have named it that.  In many places it has a very rugged, high and steep coastline. People owning those pieces of lakeshore have their log cabins that we can see through the pine trees and long stairs zig zagging down the bank to their boatdocks.

There is another outstanding feature of the lake and that is a peninsula of high ground that circles out into the lake and back toward the shore.  It had to have been connected at one time because there is a sand bar across the narrow space where it doesn’t connect. It has to be dredged for boats to safely cross into Hinton Bay. Hinton Bay, by the way, is almost perfectly round and maybe that’s the part someone was looking at when they named the lake. I would love to know what kind of geologic activity has gone on to form this lake, and its surrounding hills.  I know there was a lot of glacial activity that gouged out some pretty crazy river beds and valleys and  left a lot of rocks of various sizes. Once I found a fairly large Lake Superior red agate in the lake so I’m suspecting a relationship with the Great Lakes chain.

But there are also some fairly flat lands where people have attempted to farm, as my family did.  The pond between my house and the hill had a couple of springs that were probably fed from the same underground reservoir that feeds the lake. We children who skated on the pond in the winter were always afraid to go too near those places we could tell had frozen over last. The pond has gradually become more marshy and filled in with sediment – it may disappear someday but I probably won’t be alive to see it.

Last month I visited the hill and took another one of many pictures, looking out over the pond to my old home. I’m always hit with nostalgia at the view. What a privilege it was to grow up in such a beautiful place. I spent many years drinking that clear, cold well water and eating food grown in that soil so it’s pretty safe to say it is in my bones. I will always be “from” Round Lake and Hayward, Wisconsin.

 

my old home from the castle on the hill

 

Reader, blogger, and essayist Andrea Badgley is collecting “Show Us Your State” stories for her Andrea Reads America website. Submission guidelines are here if you would like to participate.