Day 12, Part 2: Always Look Before Crossing

Today I saw a cat get run over by a motorbike.

I was walking home from dinner. Apparently, my presence disturbed a yellow street cat, which, convinced that I was about to tear it to shreds, ran out into the street and directly under an oncoming motorbike. Now THAT'S falling out of the frying pan.

The moto driver slammed on his breaks, but still ran over it. Twice. The cat just kept running. Never have I experienced such a strange combination of horror, humor, and sadism. I probably shouldn't laugh, but it looked fairly ridiculous.

And that, children, is why you don't run into the street in a panic, and why you look both ways if you do.

*I refuse to accept any karmic responsibility for that cat's life or death.

Why Cambodia Is More Awesome Than China

About a year ago, for reasons now lost to the pages of history, I decided I really, really, really wanted to teach English in China. So I bought a visa and a ticket for the next flight to Cambodia, where there was a TESOL training program.

I thought Cambodia was great starting from the time I wheeled my luggage off the carousel and crossed customs. Not great--fabulous. In a bubble of bliss, I came to and from teacher training each day. I joyfully shopped and ate at market each day. I learned a hundred words of Khmer and some numbers and spouted them off to everyone I met.

Then the month of training came to an end, and I grudgingly, tearfully, flew to Jining, China.

As far as grungy industrial Chinese cities go, I suppose Jining was up to snuff. But I'd look up at the perpetually grey skies and the Soviet-style warehouses that Chinese people call apartments...and I'd miss the vibrancy of Cambodia.

I'd look at the shit and vomit lining the streets of Jining; I'd spend hours locked in the bathroom because of E.coli-laced Chinese food...and I'd miss the personal cleanliness standards of Cambodians.

I'd parade around like a freak for the Chinese to point and laugh at...and I'd miss the subtle cosmopolitanism of Phnom Penh.

I became a scratching post for Chinese moms (who are literally the most savage people I've come across in my time, and this includes several Middle Eastern dictators), and hell, I missed the laid-back tolerance of the Khmer people.

So I came back. My situation deteriorated rather markedly in Jining, so I booked the first flight out of Jinan and came back to Phnom Penh. Like a refugee, I carried all I owned on my back and found myself living in makeshift accommodations.

And despite workplace drama, illness, thyroid inflammations, hunger, and ignorant people thinking I'm rich, I have not regretted my return to Cambodia. Not for one moment.

I am supposed to be here.

I say this not out of infatuation. It is core knowledge. For reasons that aren't immediately clear to me, I am somehow fated to be in this country. That's as close as I can come to explaining it.

I don't know how this will play out, or what my future holds. All I ask is that you stay with me, my readers. We will discover the answer together.