Our tuk-tuk rides... somebody has to watch the bags,
and It was my turn... hahaha

Little boy sitting in a Hammock watching the big kids play with the foreigners.




 

The school where we stay and teach!





Some of the students arriving for Classes.





 

This was our last attempt at jumping all together and
being in the air at the same time at a ruin in Ankor Wat.
(this must have been our 20th try...)

Katie's Birthday Celebrations! 

We went to a Restaurant that had Traditional Cambodian Meal lessons, we all cooked different dishes: Ostrich, Crocodile, Banana Flower, Lemon Grass, Chicken, Mushrooms.... just a few of the ingredients

           










Rainstorm!!!
 

 I finally got clean! Shampoo'd up and had
clean rain water to bathe with!

We got DRENCHED!

           

Silk farm: We went and visited an artists
village and learned how silk is made!


 

          


            

Finished with a few photo's from Ankor Wat.
 

-Thanks for reading!

(Written April 15th 2012)

So I’ve been in Cambodia for only about 5 days now, and already I see the opportunities  for change encroaching on my tourist-like adventure. You see we’re not yet at our ministry site, and it doesn’t start for another 4 hours; we’ve had this last week off. Due to Khmer New Years celebrations, our contact for the month was unable to meet with us this, and asked us to come on Sunday (instead of on Tuesday, when we landed in Cambodia). So it’s kinda like a mini holiday for our team. 
 

(tuk tuk ride)

When you are on a mini holiday on the world race, that basically means eating at a restaurant that sells burgers and fries, instead of cow stomach, duck eggs or rice. It means splurging on rarely-found cheesecake instead of fresh fruit... you know, taste a bit of the luxuries of home. It’s especially nice when these so-called mini holidays find you in a capitol city... on a national holiday! We had a day in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia last week, and we had about 3 full days of adventuring here in Phnom Penh, Cambodia this week. 

We toured a bit of Phnom Penh’s markets and restaurants and had a sweet time coming and going from different hostels meeting travelers from all over the place. There were fireworks, and incenses burning, banners and flags all over, all in celebration of the new year. We also had a chance to do some activities that would further our intellectual growth: we went to a museum devoted to the killing fields of the Khmer Rouge and a school that was turned into a torture/interrogation prison during the war. 
 

(genocide museum)

So we made the trip up from Phnom Penh, (7 hours by bus) to Siem Reap last night in preparation to meet our contact here today, on Sunday. After settling into our hostel we caroused the streets in hopes of finding a neat place to get some grub.

As we walked through the touristy part of town where all the restaurants and pubs were I couldn’t help to feel like I was apart of some sort of movie. We wove in and out of back allies draped with Christmas lights, flowing tooling, and palm trees, while cobblestone walkways, many different types of music and “tonights featured drinks” sandwich-boards completed the atmosphere. It kinda seemed like something out of a tropical backyard BBQ, or a Caribbean themed special event. It went on and on and seemed to be so mystical, fun and intriguing. But it was authentic. It was real. It was rich, cultured Cambodia. 

We ended up at a place that had a cheep menu and some good tunes. It really wasn’t special or anything, but the feel of it was welcoming, with large red-velvet cushions supported by oversized, outdoor whicker-furniture. We sat down and after a few moments we saw a young boy holding a garbage bag another child holding bracelets to sell, and yet another with post cards. 

The kids would come up to tables and ask for a “dollar” and hold their hand out with a pouting face, and try to win your heart over. Kinda like that Sara Mcglaclan song during the SPCA commercial, at least that’s how the tourists saw these children!

I watched the kids make their rounds as more and more tables of tourists began to get uncomfortable, trying to avoid eye contact, pretend like they couldn’t understand or simply shoo the kids away... It was interesting to me to watch from an outsiders perspective how these boys were being treated. I felt convicted of all the times I’ve passed bye or even scoffed at homeless people and beggars; both on the race and at home. 

From our table I could see a man in a dark, gloomy alley leaning on his moped. Steam was coming out of the restaurants kitchen exit, and branches swayed in the wind over head, (i found myself again asking ‘is this real?’). I don’t know what made my attention focus on him, but after a couple glances, I soon realized that he was talking to one of the servers from our restaurant. I saw that some of the beggar-kids would come up and he would say a few words to them and point them to another couple sitting inside the restaurant. 

At first I thought he was just another Cambodian, picking up his daughter from work or something, simply not wanting to be bothered by the kids. But this wasn’t the case, this was their boss, their ring-leader, giving instructions. And it seemed that the restaurant workers were involved in the ploy to make an extra buck as well. 

Around the world, often the homeless community is much more evolved than we Westerners think it is. Usually the youngest of kids will have a pimp or leader that they will report back to and it all leads back to a larger group. Hundreds, even thousands of people will be apart of these rings of pan-handling, begging, drug trafficking, money laundering, and all are just trying to make a dollar.  We saw this all the time in India, and were encouraged not to give money to anyone. 

Well the memories of India came flooding back, and I knew that maybe tonight, I could help bring a little bit of joy to these kids, and maybe a little conviction for the scooter dweller...
 

(*note: not actually the "scooter dealer")

As our table was approached by the young boy I started by saying “Happy New Year!”. I continued by asking him questions about how old he was, and what his name was. He spoke little English, but a smile came over his face as I joked around with him and attempted to speak the language back to him. I would grab his shoulder, and give him a side hug, as to treat him like a friend; he must have been all of 9 years old.

In that moment the atmosphere shifted; our table tried to put an effort into getting to know this little boy. I noticed that the boy would look back to the man on the moped in the dark alley, as if to ask for permission to stay. Well not wanting to cause a fuss, but simply love on this child, I walked over to a pile of plastic chairs, and brought one over to the table and faced it away form the man on the moped. The boy seemed to gleam as I invited him to sit down and continued in conversation.

(*note: these are not the boys of the bar; for their protection,
heir shots won't be put online.. as a side note,
these kids a pretty cute as they dance to "Pharaoh-Pharaoh")

He smelt of garbage, had dirt on his face, and claimed to be hungry. Now I’ve always been taught that money might not be the answer, you don’t necessarily know where it’s going, but food... well theres really only one place for it... your mouth. So I asked the server for some fried rice and a Pepsi. 

I turned around and made prolonged eye contact with the “scooter dealer”. He seemed to be stuck, he didn’t want to blow his cover, so he threw his cigarette on the ground, stomped it out and quickly rode away. As soon as the man left, all the other kids came over to see what was going on... here was one of their friends being treated like a human! They would giggle and run away, but one boy stayed long enough for me to offer him a 7up and a chair.

Those 2 boys scarfed that food down so quick, and believe me, it was a lot of food.

As they ate, we started praying in our heads for these boys, for their pimp, for the restaurant, and for the patrons. This wasn’t a ploy to bring awkwardness, hardships, or guilt, but simply a night to bless and love these kids. After all, there could be implications if everyone decided to ‘play against the pimps’ of this world. But what if everyone could simply take a few moments and treat people like people. What if this was your brother, sister, child, or friend. What if they were hungry? Surely you’d be able to spare some time to order food for them! Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not all-for freeloaders, but kids... well theres not a whole lot that kids can do when their 9 years old, and if their hungry... well then I don’t think feeding them is out of the question. 

(sunset in Cambodia)

 

This blog wasn’t to toot my own horn or showcase my team for loving effectively, but a simple reminder to those reading that you can make a difference, and a story about the joy of two little boys at a bar.

Thanks for reading.

(public art... brilliant! ...enough said)


(a shot of a government park, where 7 different wterfalls
were all connected. This was the first one, and certainly
not the biggest or most impressive! but it was awesome
all we had to watch out for was the fish that would nip at
our toes... kinda tickeled.)

So every once in a while I look back at my journal to see where i’ve come and to see how i’ve “grown or changed” over a month. This is an excerpt from a journal entry from earlier this month. It was just between waking up and breakfast, so my thoughts just kinda came outta’ me without a filter. 

I thought that it was quite accurate and had some humor, but most importantly portrayed a problem we have on the race quite frequently, colorfully and with taste... enjoy.

“One thing on this trip that never ceases to amaze me is the fact that moods, relationships, opinions, attitudes and habits can change over night.

It’s hard to explain, but one night of bad sleep can mean a world of difference to how you feel about your team, the day, or ministry. I think because this trip is high-intensity and often finds you exhausted, it’s so detrimental to find good rest. 

I mean sure, everyone has a bad nights rest once in a while. 

Back at home if you have a bad nights rest you get up, maybe growl a bit, but you wake up in a nice room, with comfortable pillows and a bed. You’re somewhere safe and secure. You simply stroll to the kitchen, put on that pot of coffee, maybe turn on some soft music or the morning news in an attempt of get rid of the sleepiness. You head to the fridge and pull out whatever you want to eat; theres so much freedom and choice. Soon you find yourself on the way to work, making an absolute fool of yourself as you sing or hum along to the radio.

It’s easy to shake off a bad nights sleep at home. But here, on the race... well lets explore this all-too-true topic of horrible sleeps, consisting of a total 20 minuets of steady sleep all night:

You wake up on the floor of a concrete room in uganda, maybe on the floor of a cold Nepalese church, or a stifling-hot Indian sanctuary. Perhaps you find yourself waking up, practically in the embrace of one of your fellow bunk mates in Kenya, where you struggle to untangle yourself from the mosquito net that offered minimal protection against the flying lobsters.

You wake up to a mouth full of phlegm, crusty eyes and your nose is completely plugged from all the dust that circulates the room at night. Once you roll over you realize how dirty your sleeping quarters are. They often boast half living, or dead insects that are often small but sometimes as large as an iphone.... But only after you’ve made your size comparison do you realize that most people you will talk to today don’t even know what an iphone is...

You try to smile at the thought of how ridiculous you look staggering out of your tent with stiff bones from a hard sleeping surface. It doesn’t help that it’s nearly pitch-black in the room and that you can’t see very well our of your sleepy eyes, (believe me the darkness in the room is the only thing it’s got going for it... sometimes, you sleep in rooms without shutters on the windows, and it’s bright by 5am. So you’re thankful for at least one thing; the dark)

You stumble over miscellaneous objects on your attempt to get to the door. There’s no light switch on the wall to illuminate your path. You suddenly realize how bitter you really are. Everything you should be laughing at just pisses you off... then you begin to realize how truly thankful you are for the dark... at least no one can see the frustrated scowl on your face, or your lame attempt to get out of your tent... 

Now I find myself; dirty, sweaty, and miserable waiting for my breakfast of rice and beans. Oh how appreciative I’ll be when I get home!

praying that today ends, or gets better in a HURRY.” 

Thankfully  I’ve now made it to Thailand, and we’re laving shortly to head to ministry but I wanted to give you a bit to read until my next post.

Thank you all for your prayers and thoughts!

I’ll blog about Thailand when I learn more! I promise! ;) What i do know is that I'll be living on a goat farm, and thats it's "guys month" so my team is a little different, with a lot less beauty, and a whole lot more testosterone. 

Thanks for reading

Like I said on my first blog of this month, this certainly hasn’t been the easiest of months. It hasn’t really included a whole lot, and it’s been a pretty quiet month. But its the redundancy of boredom that can get the best of you out here. One thing Rackoco has got going for it though is its beauty. 
 

Our average days consist of meeting by 8am to do devotionals  and have breakfast at Godwin’s office. It’s a short walk, about 800 meters from where we’re staying. The office consists of a book shelf with books ranging on many subjects for grades 8-12. There are some plastic chairs and a table to eat at, and a small desk where you can often find Godwin taking care of his ministries paper work. By 9:15am we’re out the door heading to the local primary school to teach english to the 6th and 7th grade students. On tuesday last week we met with the principal there, where he arranged for us to teach 40 minutes of english each day... it usually ends up being about an hour, and is filled with laughter, acting and BIG expressions. It’s lots of fun.

After our classes finish, we head back home to clean up a bit before lunch. Then head back to Godwin’s office for lunch, (we eat every meal there). After lunch it’s the hottest part of the day, and at this time, february, it’s considered the hottest and driest part of the whole year. So we basically just sit, watch movies, or talk shop and try to escape the immobilizing heat. This last week we’ve formed the habit of walking down the street to some of the local shops, buying biscuits and Novida (a delicious lemon soda). 

At around 4:30 we head down back to the elementary school to play some soccer with the local youth (18-23 yr olds) who are apart of Godwin’s soccer or “football” (as they call it here)club. They’ve really taken a liking to “stretching with Mr. Frank” because they’ve never learned stretching, plyo, jump training, or any warm up skills really. Who would have thought that God would bring me around the world to teach stretching? hmmm... Anyways, I just use my recollection of P90X, and they LOVE it!

I quickly duck out before the game starts, in an effort not to make a complete idiot of myself, and head home to bathe. The first couple days I played, and it wasn’t all that bad... but I felt like I was mostly getting in the way, so I’ve officially retired from the sport.

We go and eat supper at around 7:30 and stay at the office until some of the youth come to study and use the books available there. We help to give them study tips, and try to answer any questions they have. 

It’s not that this month has been all that emotionally or physically draining, but it’s just been such a refining month. In the down time, I’ve had a lot of time to read, write, look back on life and plan ahead. It’s been a very introspective, and a much needed month. It’s been a very slow paced month, and that’s taught me much to do with patience, and listening. I’ve become a much more appreciative person this month, and really come to know the value of free time, and how to spend it. I’ve learned how to better execute self determination and discipline in getting up and running in the mornings at 6am. I’ve learned to care for the kids around me more. Not letting little things get to me, like schedule, expectations or hardship get me down. 

We meet someone new everyday in Rackoco who has gone through the war. War was prevalent here from 1986, intensified in Rackoco in 2002 was climatic considering death and torture numbers in 2004 and ended in 2005. This small town we’re staying in used to be an IDP camp for over 10,000. Now only 3000 people live here, but it seems more like 200. And it always amazes me that young adults my age have lived through such horrible circumstances, can still muster up the courage to smile and wave as they try out their english on the four mzungus, (white people) staying in their village.

It’s been rough, dusty, lonely, boring, HOT, painful, dry but good month, and overall I don’t think I would have rather spent month 7 anywhere else. (maybe the heat is getting to me...hahaha)

Thanks for reading.

My back ached as I stretched and awoke form my slumber. I rolled over and groaned, “What time is it?”
“Ten to seven.” My team mates replied.

It was Sunday and we were meeting Carla, a woman from Alabama who lives here in Rockoco, to go to church with her. She was planing on preaching and wanted us as Mazungoos (white people) to make the 25 minute trip by car with her and our ministry contact, Godwin, who often drives for her.
 

everyday view from our room (thanks for the photo rachel)

Faith Mission Church was the same as many other churches here in Africa. It was unique in the fact that it had no walls; instead just logs propping up a woven straw roof. 

We were ushered to the front of the church were we sat as honored guests on plastic chairs and hand mad wooden benches. The rest of the 40-some congregation who were there sat on the floor, on grass mats. 

Church commenced with a sunday school class for the youth that started around 8am and went for about 30 minutes. Then there was, to my surprise, an english worship time after that complete with whistles, shakers, and sticks beating jerry-cans to keep the rhythmic beat. People jumped up and down and never stood still. Dust would fill the church as the repetitive jumping would stir up the ground beneath jovial feet. Many people would shout and burst into high pitched, war-chant sounding cries. Like something from Zena the warrior princess. I caught myself chuckling at times... I must have fit right in when I was laughing.

After the worship, the children and youth left their grass woven mats and headed out to a nearby tree, settled under its shade and learned new worship songs and dances. Then it was time for the adult service, were everyone listened intently to Carla’s teachings and responded with “Hallelujah” and “Amen” when she said something that they agreed with.
After the service, the youth were invited back under the open-air canopy for offering. Praises, laughter and music filled the air once again as people approached traditional looking baskets and dropped their offerings inside. 

The service ended with a mass prayer time and everyone came to shake our hands as a thank you to us for coming all the way to their church.
 

the red dirt roads

On our bumpy ride home, we passed a man on a bike who had what looked like a catfish, so we inquired about the price and the next thing you know, we’re headed down the road with a catfish tied to the front bumper.
 

the mutant fish.. it was a monster.

That night, I offered to clean and cook the fish, and it turned out quite well... I managed to muster up some onions and an orange from the market. I boiled the fish in a big pot of water, with zest and basil that I had brought with me from Rwanda. We mashed sweet potatoes and sauteed some onions to go along with our ‘catch’. 

That’s one for the books!

I look forward to our next adventure in a Ugandan church and at the diner table with interesting quazine! Actually the other day a boy from the village brought in a baby leopard from the bush... so maybe we’ll let him get a bit bigger and we’ll be able to cook him up... just saying?

baby leopard... i wasn't kidding! (thanks to rachel for this photo)

 

Thanks for reading!

Nile river Baptism


(my drop)

As I grasped the rope in front of me with my sweaty palms, I fought to swallow the lump in my throat.  There I was, standing 42 meters over the Nile River about to fall backwards and trust two carabiners, about fifteen feet of rope and a bungee to catch me after dipping into the river below.

After a little instruction on where to look, how to fall or jump, and how I’d bungee, I was encouraged by a bible reading and some words by my friends Cody and Erin. I then found myself hoping towards the edge of the platform and trying to pump myself up for my ‘decent’.
The next thing I knew | was standing facing Cody as he said, “I baptize you in the name of the Father-”

My right hand left the rope and reached for my left shoulder.

“The Son-”

My left hand followed in the same fashion as my right, letting go of the shaking rope at the end of my reach.

“And the Holy Spirit.”

I froze for only a moment as my arms formed an X on my chest. I glanced back at Erin, “Be baptized Frank!” she instructed.

I leaned back and felt the weight of the world fall with me as I turned upside down and tried to focus on the approaching water below. I was free falling over 144 ft about to drench myself in the Nile River!

 A plethora of emotions ran through my mind.

It certainly was an exhilarating, exciting, scary, sketchy, humbling, uplifting, and adrenaline filled moment.

 

So what’s next in Franks book of life?

Well I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you that this last week has been one of the toughest weeks on the entire race! We left Jinga (where we bungeed and rafted) and headed for our ministry site in Rackoko (pronounced like “rach-oco”). It was a lot of traveling and a big head ache. Upon arrival to this town, which seemed to be straight out of a country movie with dusty dirt roads, and limited vegetation growing in between cement buildings, I soon realized I was in “the boonies”.


(sunrise yesterday morning on my run)

Today I found myself writing home on an instant messaging app I have on my phone. While sitting in a coffee shop on my phone, I wrote all about my frustrations with this week. About how communicating with my new team members hasn’t been the most fluid thing in the world. I explained my frustrations with the town I’m living in this month, my sleeping arrangements, lack of running water, electricity and beds. How schedules are, the heat, our contact, our meals... I found myself being super critical and negative. I was soon typing “Why do I hate the person I’ve become, I’m so negative, unmotivated, and miserable.”

My friend replied back “Well you just got baptized, I wouldn’t doubt spiritual attack?”

It hit my like a load of bricks. That’s exactly whats going on.

The other day I woke up and the first words outta' my mouth when I stretched out was "shit"... okay wow... you know you're starting your day off right when you got shit on the brain... haha.

So I decided to switch things up a bit. I'm trying to start and end every day in prayer, and in the coming weeks, I plan to be a lot more positive. I wanna get back to having fun, I wanna really invest in my team, and focus on why I came on this race in the first place. I wanna be the solution to the problem... not letting my negativity be a contributor. 

Your prayers would be appreciated in this area! 

I’ll end with this... Oh how I miss home. I’m here to stay, but wow... this month is, (from a completely positive perspective of course) HARD. haha.

thanks for reading! 
 

written Jan 5th 2012

What in the world are you doing over there?

Well here it is, a new year and I wanted to fill you all in on the going-on’s of my race these past few weeks.

We’re now in Rwanda, and it’s so incredibly beautiful here. I thought since genocide had happened in the last 2 decades, that the country would still be war-torn and in ruin. But it seems that because of the support of other countries in the last 15 years, the country is booming with possibility. The main roads are mostly paved, there are street lights, high rises, electricity, and a general traffic pattern (lines on the roads and such). This new engineering-boom rests amongst lush rolling hills and beautiful gardens complete with banana trees, palm trees, and tropical flowers. It’s simply beautiful. In fact on my last few skype calls home, people have commented on the beautiful noises the birds make. It’s a little piece of paradise!

We’re staying in a suburb of Kigali, the capitol, called Remera Cabeza (“rem-air-ah Ka-peeza”), and only a 20 minute drive away from coffee shops, malls and banks. And by malls, I mean department stores that include grocery stores that have pop tarts, camembert cheese and canadian smarties! It’s wonderful! You don’t see these types of things on the race very often. It’s odd how ridiculously big of a smile comes to my face upon recognizing these ‘home-lie’ things. 

Our contact this month is one of my favorites. His passion for his ministry and his genuine love for his church are so impressionable to me! He also is such a generous man! He’s doing great things here, and starting some great projects/ initiatives, and also has ideas for the future.

So now on to the team... what have we been doing?

Well it’s go, go, go over here. Our first week consisted of preaching in the mornings and in the evenings at church, and three times on sunday. We even met up at night around 9:30 for a bible study/ testimony time. the days were filled with listening to peoples stories, meet-and-greets, church and a lot of preaching! 

This week is even busier for me. Breakfast is around 8:30 and we’re out the door by 9:30 to head to church. Inside the church the team is painting a mural of a mountain scene. It’s based off Isaiah 2:2, where it says that the mountain of God will be established as chief among the mountains and all nations will flow to it. I usually paint until 12:30-1pm,  then book it back to the house for lunch, and head out the door again to teach two hours of piano lessons at around 2 o’clock. Then come back to the house to prep for preaching in the evenings. As a team we all take turns taking on a night and leading night-church. After around 7:20pm I have the evenings off, where we usually have team time and feedback, and then eat around 8:30-9pm. Discuss the day, and then off to bed to start all over again. It’s great to find purpose again, and to feel like i’m actually being productive. 

Well, gotta go paint!