One man's trash is a child's treasure

(Slightly out of order, but still continued from earlier.)

I made the return journey from Cambodia again with my friend Judy. For the trip back, it is cheaper to take a tourist "bus" all the way from Siem Reap to Bangkok, with a stop at the border crossing. We departed Siem Reap in a beat-up "bus" which I'd say had the amenities and safety features of an NC public school bus circa 1920. We barreled along the bumpy road for about three hours, Little Miss Sunshine horn blaring the entire way, before stopping at a rest stop. It was there that Judy realized that she'd left her wallet under her mattress at our guest house. (Rule #1: it is never a clever idea to hide things under your mattress!)

We held up the bus and made phone call after phone call, using our bus driver's phone and an unfortunate vendor as our translator. Eventually it was settled that the guest house would send the wallet on a motorcycle taxi to the border at Poipet, where we would meet it... and of course pay for the taxi. We waited at the border for about three hours.

While we were waiting, we sat with a Cambodian bus company worker on a bench, staring at the barbed-wire fence that I assumed was the border with Thailand. We hadn't had time to pick up snacks before we left and had subsided up to this point on a giant bunch of bananas. Judy had a can of almonds left in her bag, and we took the opportunity to open it during the long wait.

The Cambodian man kept talking on his cell phone, telling us that the taxi would be there in an hour, and then repeating the same estimate every 30 minutes. I still don't know if he was trying to scam us, but from the outcome of the afternoon I'm thinking that he was on the sincere side. We talked to him a little bit about the Cambodian government, although he was clearly uncomfortable at times, and also about his aspirations to save his money and eventually open up a food stand on the street. That was his wildest dream, if he could be so lucky... operating a street stand. The path to riches. He kept asking us about our "holiday," and we were embarrassed to tell him that we were traveling with school. We opted not to tell him our tuition price when he asked. He told us his salary, which I converted to be a little less than a dollar a day.

While we were waiting, Cambodian children would walk by and pick through the trash can, picking out bottles and wrappers and collecting them in plastic bags that they carried. One kid made a particularly long stop to stare at us, and Judy decided to give him some of her almonds. He came over and stood for a very long time, not smiling, not making any noise, just eating the almonds as if he hadn't eaten in weeks. We wound up giving him the entire can, as well as all the rest of the food that we had in our possession at the time. He needed it a lot more than we did.

While he was eating by the handfuls, still not making any facial expressions or noise, another kid came over. The first child offered him a little food, and we bought them a bottle of water to share. He ate about half the can and then closed the lid and put the can in the bag with all of his trash. He then presented Judy with an empty bottle, as what we assumed was his payment for the food she'd given him. Obviously these kids aren't accustomed to being given things for free.

We were carrying a long tube that held one of our friends' posters, and Judy decided to start playing with it to ease the tension. The kids loved it. I pulled out the two Cambodian flutes that I'd bought from children at the temples, intending to juggle with them, and this wound up leading to a massive swordfight. Judy with the large tube, myself and one of the kids with the flutes, and the second kid with the water bottle. Needless to say, my small flute did not stand a chance against my opponent's water bottle, but we had fun.

Finally, the first kid smiled, and his expression changed to pure joy. We tried to talk to him but determined that he was either deaf, mute, or both. I noticed that he was missing one of his toes and had scars on his legs. Still, the joy on both of the boys' faces was incredible. We played the flutes, horsed around, and tried to communicate verbally (without much luck, but with a lot of comedy).

While we were playing, the Cambodian man and his friends finished eating lunch and threw away their leftovers. A few minutes later, the child went over to the trash can to pick through the contents, eventually pulling out a half-eaten fish carcass and chowing down. He took several bites, then gave the rest to his friend, and dug through the trash for more food - leftover rice and vegetables on a bug-and-dirt-covered plate.

When they finished eating, we went right back to playing, full of joy and energy. I honestly have never felt such a powerful combination of happiness and sadness. I wanted to cry, and I still do every time I think about it. By the end of it all, the flutes were completely disgusting. I let the kids keep them and received a trashed used bus ticket and candy wrapper as payment.

Surprisingly enough, and despite our high skepticism and occasional fear, Judy's wallet returned intact and with all the money and cards still safe. We had to miss our bus due to the wait, so we crossed the border and headed to the Thai bus station. The return to Thailand was glorious. I've never been so happy to see the King's face (which is proudly displayed, along with Thai flags, on just about every lamp post or bridge in Thailand) or to be on a slightly rickety 2nd class Thai bus (the key word here is Thai, and honestly anything would've better than our Cambodian "ride"). I still don’t know what to make of that trip, but I feel like I learned more in three hours than I’ll learn in any of my classes.