May 13

Just got back from an hour of traditional Khmer massage. I found there was a place down the street run by acid victims for $4 an hour. They did some pretty hardcore bone-cracking chiropractor moves and positioned you into some crazy yoga stretches; walked out feeling pretty good. I'm going to be really sore tomorrow.

Rode my bike underneath the trees, deliberately under the ones with low branches, pulling down on the leaves. Walked around Toul Kork a bit. Psa’s certainly awaken multiple senses. The smell of garbage and smoked sausages wafts through the air, smoke stings your eyes, exhaust from motorbikes hot on your legs. The ground is wet and muddy from regular rainfall, and emaciated old men stand shirtless smoking cigarettes, inhaling deeply, further exposing their ribs, saggy nipples, concave chests. Walked by baskets of baguettes, raw fish heads, deep-fried bananas, frogs, snakes on a stick, realized it's all grown pretty mundane.

Sreywin got in a moto accident over the Khmer New Year holiday and she was out of school for a week because she'd been in the hospital. I saw her older sister Soriya at Psa Mnong who told me she'd be out soon and back to school, and as I walked out the entrance, she yelled to my back, "Teacher, she misses you!" She arrived back to school the following morning, kids tugged on my arm informing me of her return, and parted out of the way to reveal her standing in the back of the line, arms folded, eyes and face down at the ground. I walked to her and put my hand beneath her chin, and only then did she show me her face. Her left eye had an enormous abscess of blood collected in the corner, bruises underneath both eyes dipping down past her nose. She looked awful, like one of those kids in the horror movies, little girl swinging on the creaky swing in the yard. She's easily the hardest working and most respected girl in the class, and so it was odd to see her looking so pitiful. She later noticed me avoid looking her in the eye, and called me on it, my insides resonating with guilt. "My sister said I look like a goose," she said and laughed. I would have thought to call her many other things before that, but I kissed her on the head, and whispered in her ear "Nee-uh suh-aht" (You are beautiful). She smiled silently and carried on with her work, because she knew I had meant it.

I cried talking to a friend on the phone about one of my students named Naro, living proof really that the world isn't fair. Proof that karma isn't real, filling me with rage, how unjust and violating it all is, that children exist with such heart, humility, and no opportunities, barely necessities. And others not so far away live in material excess, and don't appreciate it or realize it could be different, and history only repeats itself or grows worse until we die. I don’t think my reception was all that great or if she really heard, because she hardly responded. But it awoke something in me, a reaffirmation, realization, that I care deeply about what I do and whom I encounter in life, and find that a gift. I can’t help but feel blessed by it all, when at the same time it pains me, this unveiling of life's most disconcerting truths. I’m leaving in 2 weeks to go home, truth be told, it’ll be a bittersweet day. But with more honesty, I speak, I am more than ready for it.