Lately I’ve been thinking about my last day at home before coming on the World Race. It was supposed to be smooth and easy-going, but instead it turned out to be hectic and unexpected. I had developed an eye infection, so the morning I was to leave home my mom suggested that I go to the doctor. This did not make me happy.
I got lost on the way there, which led me to beat my fists against the steering wheel and curse at the world for being unfair. I wish I could tell you I was kidding.
When I finally made it to the eye doctor, he didn’t really know what was wrong with my eye. He guessed it was something or another, and prescribed me a $90 medication. This really did not make me happy.
I went to the pharmacy at the nearby Target and was one of those customers. You know, the ones who blame the waitress for the lack of good parking spots outside the restaurant, or the ones who are mean to the Starbucks barista because the line was so long – the ones who blame everyone else for their meaningless problems. I treated the pharmacist like it was her fault my prescription cost $90, and while I was at it I decided to blame her for my eye infection too.
Looking back, I’m convinced my pharmacist was an angel, or at least a Christian, because she treated me with such kindness. Not only did she put up with my hostile behavior, she went so far as to find an identical prescription for the low price of – get this – $12.
I wish I could tell you that we became bffs, but the truth is I was probably still mean to her even after that. Hey, I needed to blame someone for my hard-knock life.
As I was reflecting on this memory the other day, I found myself hoping that I had truly changed after nearly ten months of being on the World Race. I suppose God heard my thoughts, because soon after I was given a test.
On Saturday my team left the tourist town of Siem Reap to come back home to Kampong Cham. We were told to be ready by 10 a.m., which meant I would have plenty of time to sleep in and pack my bags. At 8:40 that morning, when I was still asleep, I received a phone call saying that we needed to be downstairs and ready to go by 9 a.m. Not cool.
But I got up and made the best of it. My teammates and I scurried around for twenty minutes – I felt like I was living the scene in Home Alone when they sleep in and then freak out as they try to make their plane. At one point I could even hear the song “Run, Run Rudolph” playing in the background as we ran down the stairs with all our luggage in attempts to catch the shuttle.
We caught it (and we even remembered Kevin!). After being dropped off at the bus station, we got on our bus and breathed. I looked out the window and prayed that the morning wasn’t an indicator of how the rest of the day would turn out to be.
Two hours later our bus broke down.
When a bus breaks down in Cambodia – the air flow stops. And then it’s HOT. We all climbed out of the suffocating bus and onto the side of the road. It was still incredibly hot, because now the sun was beating down on our bodies. We tried to hide under the limited shade of a nearby tree.
When it looked like they weren’t going to be able to fix the bus, we realized they would have to call another one – which would take another two hours to get to us. For a moment I wanted to pout; I wanted to blame someone. But then I decided to make the best of my situation.
I kicked off my shoes, grabbed a book and let C.S. Lewis take me into faraway lands where lions talk and trees can walk. Lately I’ve been feeling like there’s never any time to read, so what better time to open a book than when your stranded on the side of the road?
After I read a few chapters an ice cream man came by. Now, a Cambodian ice cream man is much different than an American ice cream man. For instance, a Cambodian ice cream man rides a bike with a cooler attached, and he doesn’t really sell ice cream. It’s kind of like a coconut snow cone, or something.
A bunch of the kids from our bus ran toward him, and their parents followed as they fumbled to get money out of their pockets. I can’t think of any time when an ice cream man would be more appropriate.
My team knows that ice cream is my one true love, so when Adam saw the ice cream man he made sure I was aware. “Do you want me to buy you one?” he asked. “No, I’m good,” I said, even though I kind of wanted to try one. “Are you sure?” he said. “Yeah, really.” He looked at me for a moment and then said, “I’m buying you one.” Was it because I was licking my lips as I jealously stared at all the children with snow cones? I need to work on my acting skills.
A few minutes later I joined the little children and ate my coconut snow cone ice cream thingy. And it was good.
When I finished my tasty treat I needed to go to the bathroom, so I stood up and asked a Cambodian man where the toilet was. He just kind of shrugged his shoulders and pointed in a vague direction, but I understood. The toilet was anywhere I wanted it to be. I grabbed a handful of toilet paper from my bag and began to walk away from the crowd of Cambodians, and as I did they chuckled. I don’t blame them – I was laughing too. To them, I’m sure it was funny to see a white girl with her wad of toilet paper wandering off to go squat in the bushes. Little do they know I am an excellent bush squatter. I secretly hoped for the crowd to erupt into applause and heel-kicks when I returned, but no one seemed that thrilled. Oh well. I did my own heel-click and went back to reading.
A little while later a woman came over to us – she had cooked a large pot of noodles and soup and was selling it for lunch. Most of the Cambodians from our bus bought a bowl or two from her, and I wanted to be like them, so I did too. We all used chopsticks and returned our dishes when we were done. I loved humanity so much during this time – a group of strangers stranded on the side of the road with nothing to eat but the noodles&soup provided by a woman who seized the opportunity to provide for her family.
No one ever complained – about the heat, about the time, about anything. I tried to imagine what it would be like if a similar situation happened in the States, and what came to mind was a group of those customers – you know, the ones who blame the pilot when the weather is bad, or the ones who blame the credit card company when they go over their spending limit. And then I saw my old self yelling at the pharmacist from across the counter because my eye was infected.
I guess I have changed.
Instead of choosing to be a victim, I decided to go with the flow. And you know what? I finally had time to read. Someone bought me a snow cone ice cream thingamabob. I got to show off my bush-squatting skills and best of all, I shared in the beauty of humanity.
