Monivong Blvd, Phnom Penh

If you wanted to send me the perfect package:
p.o. box 488
phnom penh, cambodia

it would contain:
1. a mix cd
2. lemon pepper
3. almonds
4. a moleskin journal
5. a new book you read and loved
6. granola bars
7. anything that smells like grapefruit
8. an arts/culture magazine
9. a sock monkey
10. a handmade card with a very long note


goodbye Lasa

January 6

The first thing we do every morning before classes begin, is line up at the flag and sing the Cambodian National Anthem. The students line up in 2 lines, one for boys, one for girls, according to size and age. When I first came to CAS, the first thing I saw, in the front of my line of boys, was my little Lasa. I whispered to Liz, this first day, as I ran my fingers through this boy's hair, "I know I shouldn't pick favorites, but this is it." His hair is brown, not black, due to malnutrition, his parents were rumored to be very poor, he is 7 years old, although he doesn't look like he can be a day older than 4 years old. He's has sweet black eyes, and a squeaky little voice, just like a baby. He was my baby. When school began, I had the hardest time getting him to say anything at all, he sat quietly in his seat, elbows on the desk, chin resting on his open palms, he wrote in his notebook quietly, and rarely even smiled. His grades were less than adequate, he wrote so slowly, I tried my hardest to keep him caught up with the class, but the more time went on, the more he fell behind. But the more the year went on, the more I fell in love with this boy, he warmed up to me, played games, made jokes. After Christmas break, I brought my students all back a book and a stuffed animal, and the one I picked out for him now lies indolent on my desk. I was informed that his parents couldn't afford to send him to school here anymore, and so, this boy, so quiet and young and small, is going to move to Siem Reap and live in the dorm at an orphanage school. Please keep him your prayers. He'll be missed.