There is not a cloud in the sky. It's 8 am and the sun is already beating down, beginning to work its way into our pale skin. The city is alive with sounds and smells. Horns and rattling engines echo through the streets. Drivers dodge back and forth, motos weave in and out of gaps in traffic. Vendors prepare their stands, setting up baskets full of goods ranging from moto tires to snails. There is a strip of road on our way out of town lined with shops. Buckets full of seafood on ice; scallops, squid and fish all flop about. Beautiful handmade wooden doors, benches and beds sit, their fresh lacquer glistening in the morning sun. They are the most intricate, delicate, beautiful hand carved pieces of art I have ever seen. I want so badly to buy something and bring it home. The traffic is thick as we leave the guesthouse, but as we get further out of the city, you see less cars and tuk tuks. The moments of fresh air are heavenly, the strange smells happen in short bursts every so often. Certain vendors rush about, preparing their food or encouraging shoppers, while others sit and stare, eyes following our three tuk tuks. Most people watch us silently and without emotion, not even necessarily curious. Smiles are nine times out of ten returned, somber faces erupting into toothy, sometimes toothless, grins. I mentioned in my blog last year, the people of Cambodia have the most beautiful smiles. The road to the orphanage is all paved this year, creating a smoother ride.
The division of rich and poor here is so stark. Monstrous four story houses with fancy glass windows, elaborate landscaping and high walls topped with barbed wire stand next to tin walled shacks, lifted out of the trash infested sludge by weak wooden beams. Workers of all ages, men and women, lift bricks, mix concrete and build structures from the ground up while their lean-to's slump softly across the road. Mangy dogs run alongside the roads in packs, no real owners, no real homes. Food is whatever they can find, fighting over scraps, trash, and other animals. Cows graze in rice fields, hip bones jutting skyward. Grungy water sits collecting trash but lotus blossoms persevere through the variable conditions, large green leaves the size of dinner plates, soft pink and white petals fanning open, blooming upwards. We can learn something from lotus flowers. They are the most stunning, beautiful things, and the place they grow from, the filthy water, doesn't hold them back. Breathtaking things can come from terrible circumstances.
The afternoons have given us a pause in the heat, the powerful downpour cooling us off, soaking us to the bone with its warm tropical rain. The other day, all the students had the day off of school and the rain turned the yard in to a mud playground. A raucous soccer game (the World Cup is meaningless to these kids) transformed into dancing in the mud and rain which transformed into sliding in the mud, coating ourselves head to toe without a care in the world.
Yesterday, Krissy and I got all the donated baby formula (Thanks Kim!) and delivered it to the babies in the village. It is crazy how many infants under one year old there are. It is also sad because the children that live in the village are already so malnourished, it is so irresponsible to have more babies. There are 6 month old twins that live at the end of the market by a fish vendor. The little boy is taken care of far less than the girl, because the family already has an older son. He is far smaller than her, his head flat from spending so much time laying down and not being head. They are so precious but I wonder how much they are truly cared for when we are not around. The little girl is absolutely more cared for, as she is bigger and healthier.
We have experienced quite a lot of things hard things in our first week here. We passed a dog dying on the side of the road, crying and screaming while its life was slipping away. We witnessed the orphanage dogs get into a fight with some village dogs, Tina, being in heat, is being quite the little bitch. I miss Charlie Brown tons and try to give as much love to the dogs as they will let me. If I were to move here, which I think about often, I would probably end up adopting tons of dogs and having my own little safe haven for them.
The division of rich and poor here is so stark. Monstrous four story houses with fancy glass windows, elaborate landscaping and high walls topped with barbed wire stand next to tin walled shacks, lifted out of the trash infested sludge by weak wooden beams. Workers of all ages, men and women, lift bricks, mix concrete and build structures from the ground up while their lean-to's slump softly across the road. Mangy dogs run alongside the roads in packs, no real owners, no real homes. Food is whatever they can find, fighting over scraps, trash, and other animals. Cows graze in rice fields, hip bones jutting skyward. Grungy water sits collecting trash but lotus blossoms persevere through the variable conditions, large green leaves the size of dinner plates, soft pink and white petals fanning open, blooming upwards. We can learn something from lotus flowers. They are the most stunning, beautiful things, and the place they grow from, the filthy water, doesn't hold them back. Breathtaking things can come from terrible circumstances.
The afternoons have given us a pause in the heat, the powerful downpour cooling us off, soaking us to the bone with its warm tropical rain. The other day, all the students had the day off of school and the rain turned the yard in to a mud playground. A raucous soccer game (the World Cup is meaningless to these kids) transformed into dancing in the mud and rain which transformed into sliding in the mud, coating ourselves head to toe without a care in the world.
Yesterday, Krissy and I got all the donated baby formula (Thanks Kim!) and delivered it to the babies in the village. It is crazy how many infants under one year old there are. It is also sad because the children that live in the village are already so malnourished, it is so irresponsible to have more babies. There are 6 month old twins that live at the end of the market by a fish vendor. The little boy is taken care of far less than the girl, because the family already has an older son. He is far smaller than her, his head flat from spending so much time laying down and not being head. They are so precious but I wonder how much they are truly cared for when we are not around. The little girl is absolutely more cared for, as she is bigger and healthier.
We have experienced quite a lot of things hard things in our first week here. We passed a dog dying on the side of the road, crying and screaming while its life was slipping away. We witnessed the orphanage dogs get into a fight with some village dogs, Tina, being in heat, is being quite the little bitch. I miss Charlie Brown tons and try to give as much love to the dogs as they will let me. If I were to move here, which I think about often, I would probably end up adopting tons of dogs and having my own little safe haven for them.
