my sweet sweet little Sotha boy

November 19

Mid-way through Math (2nd period), I realized the once novelty of my SE Asian life has turned wonderfully and horribly mundane and ordinary. Redundant even, as I wake up the same time every morning, in the same crowded apartment, walk or ride the same dirt, dusty roads to school every morning, to arrive upon the same classroom, the same children. I read old journals and realized months ago, only just arriving, being so nervous for my first day, staring my children in the face for the first time, them only being mere strangers, only having their names (clueless to even how to pronounce them) printed on a piece of paper. And now I'm here, with them crawling on my lap, kissing my cheeks, pulling on my clothes, demanding every bit of my attention, and I know their faces, their names, the way they smile and laugh, their friends, their likes, their dislikes, before I walk in the door I know who will struggle with this lesson and excel in the other. Some days, its incredibly frustrating, for this to be my reality, and other days, I'm overwhelmed with a love that I'd never find in college in America. Teaching 30 kids in every subject, in a language they can't understand, I've learned to speak broken English, to speak as simple as I can, that prepositions or gerunds and all the "buts" and "fors" are superfluous. I've learned to go into town on my lonesome to run an errand, perusing a dirty, crowded, dangerous city where nobody understands me. To speak enough Khmer to tell a motorbike taxi where to go or how to buy fruit or eggs or rice in the marketplace and understand the prices. And as I rode into town, clutching grocery bags in both arms, my legs dangling off the side of a motorbike, behind a complete stranger who probably hadn't bathed in days and didn't speak a word of English, I realized, that this is okay, its good, its home. This is home.

ps. My wallet is gone, along with my drivers license, ATM and credit card, and all of the money from my last paycheck. I'm brilliant. I insist on carrying my wallet around everywhere with me, with a credit card with thousands of dollars on it, which I haven't used since I've been here, ATM I've only used once to replace a broken apple computer charger, in a city infamous for theives and petty crimes, in the open marketplace where I know I won't be spending more than $10. So these things happen, and its nobodys fault but my own. Just learn and live on. Yeah, it sucks (i'm really sorry dad).