is what I originally intended this post to be about.
I was going to talk about how kind, warm, and welcoming the Kampuchean people are, how even in Phnom Penh so many people are quick to return a smile to anyone who has smiled at them. I wanted to talk about how the children outside of PP come out of their shacks to catch a glimpse at Westerners and throw a "Alo" your way.
Most of all, I wanted to write about my students, the ones that threw me a big party on the last day of class, replete with food and presents--and more presents--and one-hundred-and-one photo ops and hearty Thank You's. Some of these students can just manage to pay the $50 dollars for the three months tuition, yet they all managed to buy me presents including a leather belt, t-shirts, a wall hanging, and many others. One class took me out to lunch before taking me to an arcade where they basically fed tokens into the machines while I played games. Such is the respect that a teacher garners in this, what should be "The Land of Smiles."
But now, the joy of all of that has been overshadowed by the friends who have recently left us to continue their journeys, either to new regions or to their homelands. They began leaving us last Friday. First, our Slovakian friend, Mirka, took off to Thailand. Our wonderful Kiwi friend Danica followed suit the next morning. The other Kiwi close to our heart (and Julie's doppelgänger), Minda, left on Monday afternoon to head home. And yesterday, Charlie, our reggae-obsessed Englishman/ Frenchman friend--and one of my new best friends in the world--boarded a plane to Paris (where he is now so freaking cold that he is actually shaking).
It wasn't until today, when a new set of volunteers arrived to teach at CWF, that I realized what a gaping hole these missing friends had left in my heart. It literally aches right now, and I would actually cry right now if only the emptiness would stop floating around in my chest and stand still. But it's an ephemeral feeling, and it leaves me with a sense of wonder at how close you can become to someone or some group of people in a very, very short time.
So, in the end, this post is meant to be a love letter--though I am not sure it's eloquent enough--to the Kampuchean people in a general sense and, more specifically, to my new, dear, dear friends. Though they are many, many miles from this, our shared home, they stay in our hearts now and forever. And that, my friends, is a fact. Stamped and Approved.
I was going to talk about how kind, warm, and welcoming the Kampuchean people are, how even in Phnom Penh so many people are quick to return a smile to anyone who has smiled at them. I wanted to talk about how the children outside of PP come out of their shacks to catch a glimpse at Westerners and throw a "Alo" your way.
Most of all, I wanted to write about my students, the ones that threw me a big party on the last day of class, replete with food and presents--and more presents--and one-hundred-and-one photo ops and hearty Thank You's. Some of these students can just manage to pay the $50 dollars for the three months tuition, yet they all managed to buy me presents including a leather belt, t-shirts, a wall hanging, and many others. One class took me out to lunch before taking me to an arcade where they basically fed tokens into the machines while I played games. Such is the respect that a teacher garners in this, what should be "The Land of Smiles."
But now, the joy of all of that has been overshadowed by the friends who have recently left us to continue their journeys, either to new regions or to their homelands. They began leaving us last Friday. First, our Slovakian friend, Mirka, took off to Thailand. Our wonderful Kiwi friend Danica followed suit the next morning. The other Kiwi close to our heart (and Julie's doppelgänger), Minda, left on Monday afternoon to head home. And yesterday, Charlie, our reggae-obsessed Englishman/ Frenchman friend--and one of my new best friends in the world--boarded a plane to Paris (where he is now so freaking cold that he is actually shaking).
It wasn't until today, when a new set of volunteers arrived to teach at CWF, that I realized what a gaping hole these missing friends had left in my heart. It literally aches right now, and I would actually cry right now if only the emptiness would stop floating around in my chest and stand still. But it's an ephemeral feeling, and it leaves me with a sense of wonder at how close you can become to someone or some group of people in a very, very short time.
So, in the end, this post is meant to be a love letter--though I am not sure it's eloquent enough--to the Kampuchean people in a general sense and, more specifically, to my new, dear, dear friends. Though they are many, many miles from this, our shared home, they stay in our hearts now and forever. And that, my friends, is a fact. Stamped and Approved.
