Cambodia, far more beautiful than I ever could have imagined. It reminds me of summer camp in New Mexico, except substitute pine tree’s for palm. Take away the mountains and add sunsets that put you into a distant dream at every glance. When watching the sunsets I can’t help but think, “What? The sun isn’t moving right now? I’m literally watching the sun move… but really the earth is rotating… What!”
This same sort of thought process blew my mind as I looked up at the stars one night and saw the big dipper, except from this part of the world it was no longer large. I was literally looking at the big dipper knowing that it is day time in the states and not visible to viewers from home. The stars from a distance at home are all of a sudden right in front of me, like a giant screen in a movie theater, and the same stars I’m used to seeing as key roles are now extra’s behind my favorite characters.
I actually didn’t sit to write about Cambodia, but if I did I would write about the people. I’d write about it’s history and how backpackers come from all over the world to see Angkor Wat. I’d tell you about the Khmer Rouge and the torture camp, (S21) in Phnom Penh where much of the population was murdered in the late 70’s.
I would share stories about life in the country with cows and chickens roaming everywhere, stacks of hay piled on the back of wagons pulled by motorcycles, naked babies running around exploring and playing in the dirt, soccer fields sprinkled with hay completed with two bamboo sticks on each side representing goals.
Or I could share about the city and Tuk Tuk’s that transport travelers wherever they would like to go. More naked babies exploring the streets. Random ox-water-buffalo drinking from the draining in-between roads or large street vendors that are some how supported and transported behind a measly moped.
I could also spend this time and tell you about New Hope Orphanage outside of Kampung Cham. I could explain to you in detail all thirty of the kids that we spent our time with each day. I would write about the way that they sang their little hearts out for worship each night, eyes closed and hands spread out praising God in their own language. Then I would explain to you how hard these kids would play. How they would hang on us and dance with us and never lack energy or show any sort of tiredness until they were told it was time for bed.
I would like to tell you, but would probably refrain from describing, the “squatty potties” and my struggles getting adjusted to going to the bathroom with no toilet seat available. Then I would tell you the lyrics to the song that we made specifically about the squatty potties.
I could write to you about teaching. Teaching kids English. Teaching them in their neighborhoods in the morning or at an international school each night. I could tell you about how much fun it is to watch my fellow squad mates teach and have a passion for it. The laughs and patience and excitement that they receive when a kid pronounces something correctly for the first time.
I could write a whole lot about the church I went to on Sunday. About how I didn’t want to go. I would explain the european non-denominational influence and the pop band, fog machines and teenage kids that were super involved. I’d tell you the stories of the preacher from Belgium or the guy my age from Australia who has a month old baby with his Cambodian wife and the story of how they met. I’d tell you about the couple from the U.K. that are in the seventies and how they get around town on their pink moped. I’d tell you what the old man got tattoo’d on his arm two years before and how he went skydiving on his 70th birthday.
Lastly I would tell you what I have been learning this month. I would write about my whole squad and how they have challenged me in different area’s. I could write about jealousy and how it has had a grasp on me without realizing it. I would share about how tired I can get and how I am constantly being recharged. I could write about it being the half-way point on our race. I could tell you about the friends and family that I miss at home. How my family is going to a wedding and how badly I want to hold my month old nephew.
I could write about lots of things. I could write full blogs on any of these things. But when I sat down to write, I only wrote about things that I could have written.
