The Last 24 Hours

I really almost got creamed by a cow yesterday. During 5 o’clock traffic, this huge beast of a thing was plugging through the intersection with his partner, pulling a giant cart of swinging orange clay pots. The carts and cattle never look like they are moving very fast, but nothing was gonna slow this unit down…certainly not a red light. I was on the back of a moto and had to duck so I didn’t go head to head with nostrils and a set of horns, and my bag moved along its chest. Really, not the normal commute. I was on my way to my friend’s house to deliver my backpack for them to use on their trip to Vietnam. She and her husband made me dinner and sangria, so we relaxed on the roof and enjoyed front row seats for the lightning show. The wind blew, and for the first time in a long time.. it felt cool. SO nice. I rode a tuk tuk back to our villa, but apparently didn’t make it home before curfew. It was just before ten – the door was locked, the lights were out. I could see the lights of our small apartment from the driveway, and I could hear the sound of Khmer sports commentators and the voice of my roommate cheering for the Switzerland soccer team. I tried to call her to let her know I was outside. Nothing. I texted her. Nothing. I called again… only a Cambodian operator. I tried calling my other roommate, but some man who couldn’t speak English answered the phone. I yelled from below during commercial breakes, then finally gave up. The guard at the house, Dara, thought it was hilarious. I kicked off my shoes and tried crawling on top of the big van that was parked below the balcony, but it was impossible. I really thought I was stuck until Dara pulled out a ladder. “Teacher, ladder!” he laughed. All ninety pounds of him held the bottom of the ladder while I climbed, wobbly and shaky, until I ran out of rungs. I pulled myself up to the lower ledge of the balcony, which was packed with dirt and moss, and I jumped the rail between two potted palms and knocked on the door. So funny. My roomie was scared by my surprise visit from our safe and secure upper patio, but I made it inside with enough time to kill three cockroaches in the kitchen and make some caramel tea. This morning I got to school and someone brought a small bag of roasted crickets… everyone asked me if I had eaten breakfast. The director said the big green grasshoppers tasted better, but these were not bad. Well, in that case. I can’t compare, of course, but crickets really aren’t bad. ONE. I think I was picking the legs out of my teeth during class, which is pretty gross.