chea dalin's again - engaged! - liz, a first time baby octopus eater

March 12

Last Thursday, my most beautiful girl, Seila, fell face-first into the mud. Naro pushed her a little too hard on the swings, and her light little body flew like a crash course dummy, hit the ground, and skidded just a couple feet. When her body finally came to a halt, a few moments passed when she just laid there limp. I ran over, panicked and bewildered, wracked with guilt. I felt like a horrible teacher, I'm going to be a horrible mother, I was supposed to be watching (and I was! How do you prevent these things? You can't). I never know these things, but to me, she looks Sri Lankan, she speaks Khmer, but she looks different than most, her skin is darker, richer, big black eyes. Her hair is thick and curly instead of flat and straight. I heard a kid once point to her during lunch, "Seila is very black." and in Cambodia where whitening lotion lines the drugstore shelves, that's not a compliment. I think they're crazy. After Sopaul had over-watered the grass after a surprising heavy night of rainfall, she stood up, mud in her nose, twigs in her hair, her clothes filthy with soil. I brought her up to the bathroom, turned on the shower, while the girls all followed, crowded in front of the stall. She stared at me hopelessly, the water ran off her face and body, brown and filthy as it washed down the drain. She started to cough up some mud, while the girls started to giggle as they watched, "Seila takes a bath in the school with all her clothes on?" I shooed them out, changed her out of her old uniform, hung it up on the line, and after she threw on a spare uniform from a dorm student, we returned to the class. "Do you hurt anywhere?" I asked. "No," she said nonchalantly, and grabbed her books. Cambodian girls may look precious, but they're tough. In Cambodia culture, they grow up working a whole lot harder than boys. And at least in my class, they cry a lot less.

In other news, I'm reading a book where the main character states, "Travel is a distraction for the unimaginative." He goes on to say, "Travel is selfish, the money could be used to feed hungry stomachs, yet instead it only feeds hungry eyes." Yet I can't seem to get the bug of wanderlust (n. - a very strong and irresistible impulse to travel) out of my system. Then this character, Will, discovers that his best friend has been killed in a car accident, simultaneously earning a large sum of money in a sort of unusual and whimsical way, and then, in one week, embarks on a disheveled adventure around the world, distributing this money to poor, random strangers he sees fit, putting it in pouches made from folded graph paper, attempting to tape it to donkeys.

Maybe I've just been reading too many back issues of Action Asia magazine, but if I were to go anywhere in SE Asia, for strictly reasons geographical, it would be Sri Lanka. It's know for its white sandy beaches, tropical jungles, and killer surf, but I was reading an article about how 2000 years ago, the son of the Emperor in India convinced the king of Sri Lanka that all the birds and beasts of his land should be protected from human harm and allowed to roam free. According to the magazine, “This imperial persuasion gave birth to the world’s first wildlife sanctuary.” And apparently Sri Lanka has some of the most spectacular, startling, yet seldom-visited national parks in the entire region of Asia. My eyes are hungry, selfish - much more longing to be filled than my stomach (or the desire to fill anyone else's either, i guess, uh, yikes??). To me, this sounds like paradise. Anyone want to come with?