Siem Reap, Cambodia

God, I pity teachers, pity them for all they go through but mainly all I put them through. I had decided that two hours teaching seventeen year olds in Mexico qualified me in some way to teach. I was wrong. My class consisted of twenty Cambodian child orphans of different ages who had been through dozens of English teachers as they were all travelers. Some had lasted a few days, as was I, so the kids had never really picked up English.

Happiness is where you least expect it. I thought that an orphanage would resemble a Dickensian poorhouse, full of crying children and fat men with sticks. I would have thought the kids were quiet and shy had I not stayed for dinner. As I sat with a big plate of rice cabbage, meat and mango, and laughed and took pictures We warmed to each other. After the meal I helped them draw water from their well, a small price to pay for rice and perspective.