After a long debacle with plane tickets (don’t ask. for real.) I’m officially coming back to the good old US of A on the 8th. A part of me is mourning the loss of my time here, but I can’t lie and say that I’m not excited to see the fam, sleep in my own bed and party at some much-anticipated weddings.

This whole trip has just been adventure. First I thought I’d stay for a year, then that changed to a few months and now I’m going home three weeks sooner than expected. It’s a funny thing when you learn that what you’ve been combing the globe for all along is right where you left it: home.

I’m sure my life will be a morphing like crazy a week from now, but as for now I’ve still got a week on the beach. Love.

P.S. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOM!

The whole experience was just fun. Most people take a tuk-tuk, which parades you around from ruin to ruin. We settled for a $2 bike ride. What could be better? I mean, it was a little hot towards the end, but who doesn’t like pretending they’re in Now & Then.

Once we pulled into Lighthouse Orphanage on Thursday, we knew our plans had changed. We spent most of the day playing volleyball and football with the kids in the courtyard, but soon realized that God was taking us in a different direction.

At some point, we ended up at a restaurant on the riverfront called Chiva’s Shack hanging out with a group retired Brits. We adopted one of them, Tony, as our British grandfather. Tony and his friends just recently started an organization called CHOICE, which brings food and supplies to a local village and an orphanage for HIV+ kids called Sunflower Orphan Center. Thankfully, Tony let us hop along for the 40 minute ride to meet the kids today. It was amazing just to sit with them and just love on them. It was a matter of two seconds before one girl, whose name I believe is Deung, came up behind me and grabbed my hand. Most of them looked in relatively good health, although a few had sores on their skin, a reaction to one of their many medications.

It was just a good day. I just can’t help but look at these kids and not see myself in them. I know it’s no mistake that I was born into an amazing family that supports me no matter what, but I wish these kids had been too. I wish I knew how to tell them that they’re loved. Even if it’s just by a foreigner like me…they’re loved.

We intended to visit Angkor Wat today, but after lazily ignoring our alarm and having a bit of trouble finding a bike lock we decided that maybe this should be our lazy day. Instead of temples, we headed to the old market to wander and look for souvenirs before taking a tuk-tuk to the floating village 20 minutes out of town.

We were a little beefed when we got there and it cost $20 for admission, but we reluctantly handed it over hoping it would be worth it. Thankfully, it was. We got an entire boat, normally fit for 10 people, to ourselves. Our guide was only 19 and really good at English. The whole scene was exactly like you’d picture it in National Geographic: colorful wooden boats speeding by, children rowing around it metal buckets asking for money, mini supermarkets and schools along the way. They’ve everything they need–it’s just on the water. The first part of our boat ride went through a Cambodian village while the other leg was Vietnamese. Halfway through the ride we stopped at a Crocodile farm. Oh…and we could have been their dinner. If one plank would’ve slipped, well, I wouldn’t be here typing this thing. As we were walking back to get on the boat I looked down to see the croc lying 4 feet below me. Good thing we were about to leave.

We rode until we got to the entrance of Tonle Sap, Cambodia’s largest lake. On the way back we stopped by the supermarket to buy notebooks and pencils to bring to the school. It was great to be able to contribute to the community without just handing out the dollar bills they beg for. They even let us come in, say hi and take a picture with them. They were just plain adorable.

Pictures to come. Te prometo.

I won’t lie. I haven’t had the best week. All the non-stop traveling is finally getting to me along with the many troubles I’m having getting home on August 8th. (Yeah, in case you didn’t know I’m coming home early, or at least trying to!) In general, I’ve just been crabby as the pitfalls of my humanity have been shown to me over and over again.

At first all I could focus on was my own pitfalls, but on Saturday as we visited the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum I got a swift kick in the head. The guidebooks warned that it would be powerful. After all, it’s more of a showcase of the grounds and building where around 14,000  Cambodians were imprisoned and tortured for months before taken to the killing fields. (This is a small number compared to the 1 to 3 million that were murdered all together.) It was hard to be breathe as I took it all in: wooden stalls where prisoner after prisoner lived, barbed-wire covering the outside so no one would have the chance to kill himself first, rusted torturing tools lain on a bed used to hold down prisoners, pictures of numbered prisoners both before and after their deaths, and blood still splattered on the wall.

The whole experience was wholly necessary to understand the heart of these people. I can’t and don’t dare look at them the same way.

If you want to see more, please visit www.tuolsleng.com or check out this video.