I’ve procrastinated writing this. Because if I delay for as long as I can, it will make my 186 days in this country turn to 190, 195, or more. It’ll be like all of the goodbyes, wiping of the tears, and exchanging of all the hugs was just a practice run for the real departure.

But, don’t force a good thing, right? I’m the luckiest girl I know, not only to be able to spend four months with the funniest, kindest, most caring kids on this planet, but half a year. There are about 1,329 things, people, and pieces of the daily routine that I’m going to miss.

I’m going to miss living in the country, where on the one main road five people on a moto pass a slow moving ox cart loaded with rice, cement, or any other heavy building material that makes you pity the two skinny, overworked animals.  All the while, a truck carrying fifty women in its bed honks its way around the two slower moving vehicles as it races to the factory. There’s a good chance that either a herd of cows or a pair of unhurried white girls riding their bikes will disturb the flow of this organized chaos.

I’m going to miss the questions that we do our best to answer every day. Some are easier than others, but they all come from kids who are so curious and almost concerned about the response. “Do you have stars in America?”, “Why Michael Jackson black baby and white when die?”, “Why do everyone in your country have money?”, “Is your country corrupt?”, “Why no eat rice every day?”, “Your country have roads a lot?”.

I’ll miss the unplanned topics that randomly appear in class, like eating disorders, ovens, and Google. We recently spent half a class voting on the name of the parasite that lies within me (a whole different story, but yes, I suffered from amoebic dysentery for longer than I would have liked). The majority of the votes favored “prune ian” which means “shy parasite” in Khmer.

Because Diana and I left APCA on the same day, we had a joint going-away party. And I must say, it was ‘off the hook’. After a two hour morning bike ride with nine boys, we began our party prepping. And by party prepping, I mean blowing up balloons, burning music, and finding a sufficient place on the APCA grounds to put the elephant. Yep, we hired a 96 year old elephant to come give the kids rides and act as a really cool backdrop for our pictures (that part wasn’t planned - it just happened to work out). I understand the hard core animal rights people might not be okay with this, but throughout the afternoon he seemed like a happy old elephant and at night he was able to retreat to the forest with his owner to eat and sleep. He also peed a lot, so we know he was well hydrated.

Other special guests to our party included The Ice Cream Man and The Candy Man. This 60+ year old villager makes the most intricate rice taffy animal-shaped suckers you can imagine. All 70 of the kids chose which creature they wanted to eat and then patiently waited, entranced as the man’s miniscule scissors cut, shaped, and perfected the masterpiece. I opted out of an animal and chose an “arb”, which is some kind of Khmer ghost made only of a head and long hair. It was delicious.

A dozen of us performed the Thriller dance before speeches began around the blazing fire. This was when it hit me that I’d be leaving them, and I couldn’t keep the tears in. I’ve gotten to be very close with the older kids since I’ve taught them every day for six months, and to see them all lined up thanking us was too much for me!  I don’t want to leave them and it saddens me how they’re all so used to volunteers coming, teaching, saying goodbye, and then never or rarely visiting again. I’m determined to do everything in my power to return within a year to show them that they’re worth returning for. Most of them have just about zero self-worth and I’m not going to let the price of a plane ticket stop me from showing them how important they really are.

There are a handful of boys that I studied with every evening after dinner, and sometimes our fifteen minutes of flashcards would turn into an hour because of how chatty and enthusiastic they are. When the car’s trunk was full of our luggage the morning after our party, and I was slowly making my way around to all the kids for hugs and last goodbyes, it was painful to see the look on these boys’ faces. It was clear they were doing their very best to stay away from all the other kids who were crowded around Diana and me. They were afraid of the others seeing them cry, because 11 year old boys aren’t supposed to cry, right?

I’ll never forget the look on Bunneth’s face as I made eye contact with him. His little forehead wrinkled as his chin shook up and down and his stomach started to quiver under his crossed arms. He had been leaning his slim body against an awning pole, but as I walked toward him for a hug he slowly approached with his eyes hidden under his hands. We were both in tears as I buried his little lice filled head into my stomach and I did my best to console him. But I suck at consoling people, so I just told him it was okay to cry.

Yes, I’m absolutely crying as I write this and remember our departure. And yes, I knew leaving would be hard. But there’s something called a job, and I need one in order to return.

It’s still too early (I’m procrastinating, remember?) for me to sit down and think about all the hundreds of things I’ve gotten out of these six months. I think I’ve learned so much that it’s a daunting and overwhelming task. I do know, though, that my time here wouldn’t have been nearly as enjoyable and memorable if it weren’t for my fellow volunteers, who I consider to be great friends after living and surviving Cambodia together.  Their creativity, energy, organization, and passion for the kids was always contagious and I know they will and are making a difference at APCA. It’s hard to come at this point in our lies financially, but it’s cool to see the little things we can do with and for the kids that they’ll gain from and remember.

Again, thank you to everyone who donated; the older kids are typing away on the netbooks and the smaller ones just got to paint with water colors for the first time. They loved it.

I remember from Semester at Sea how difficult it is to return home, but I know I can’t stay here forever. At APCA, I’ve been living in basically the village mansion. I lucked out by having a flush toilet, internet, drinking water, and 70 kids who were up for studying, Bingo, or a bike ride the moment I stepped outside. Now, I go from one paradise to another. A couch, a dog, Target, cheese, the list will only multiply as I rediscover the little things I’ve lived without. I don’t know why I’m so lucky to get to make this transition from one little happy place to another, but I do know that I’m not going to take either of these wonderfully beautiful locations, their people, or the valuable lessons they provide for granted. 

Here are some pictures from our party. I’ll also be posting some from our very humorous Fourth of July party a little later. I can’t wait to see everyone!