RACHA Office
3:40 PM
My report is ready for editing. My power point is basically done. Despite the near-completeness of those projects, I still feel stressed. I have homework to do, final research papers to get started on, and books that need to be read. So, instead of doing any of those things, I'm going to write in my journal. Seems logical enough, right?
Well, I have exactly one month until I return to the Motherland. I have mixed feelings about this particular situation. I've been in this country for two-and-a-half months and managed to traverse many of its regions, and yet I still feel like I haven't done anything. I think I feel this way because I haven't finished what I came here to do. Don't ask me what that is, though. I'm still not sure myself. Maybe once I'm in the airplane, looking down on the Cambodian countryside (assuming I have a window seat) that I have come to love so much, it will all hit me. I'll reminisce on everything that I've seen and experienced and come to find that I achieved what I wanted to.
In the meantime, I'm just trying to survive. I'm not just talking about surviving the torture of having to sit behind a desk for eight hours every day, either. I'm talking about survival in the fact that I take my life into my own hands every time I ride my bike to work (or anywhere else for that matter). I was riding back to work from my lunch break, just minding my own business as I merged (like a professional merger, may I add) into the left turning lane. A barrage of honks came from behind me, a normal occurrence in Cambodian traffic. People normally honk not to be rude, but just to let you know that they're there. Anyway, I kept pedaling until out of the corner of my right eye I saw the front grill of a large truck passing me.
What is he thinking?! There's no way that he and I are both going to fit in that small space between the median and the cars in the other lanes …
He kept going, though. I immediately slowed down until I was almost brought to a complete stop, nearly getting nicked as the driver merged over in front of me. Had I kept riding, I would have been toast. I got the urge to kick the truck as it passed, but controlled myself as I noticed the truck was marked "police". I wasn't in the mood to argue over a fine. Instead I glared at the driver in his side view mirror as he continued to drive away as if nothing had happened.
Nothing makes me want to curse more than Cambodian traffic. The rules are different here, that's for sure, and I've been able to adapt pretty well to the cultural differences. There are still certain things that are frustrating for me, though. I would try to explain them here, but I would need a white board to adequately illustrate my frustration. Let's just say that getting cut-off is a common occurrence, and just because you're in the left hand turn lane doesn't mean someone's not going to come up around you on the left to pass.
Oh, and cutting off people isn't limited to traffic. I can't tell you how many times I've been butted in front of while I've been waiting in line. I should start keeping a tally of how many times a day I have to remind myself that it's "just their culture" ...
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