Aw kun, Cambodia

That's thank you in Khmer.

What a country this is. I could go on and on about the mystical jungle temple of Beng Melea we visited today, or what it was like to trudge through that incredible storm at Ta Prohm two days ago. I could share all the stories of haggling for local clothes and trinkets, of tuk-tuk rides through the throngs of motorbikes, of giggling teenagers giving us heavenly foot massages.

But there are more important matters to discuss, because when Sarah and I board our flight to Ho Chi Minh City tomorrow, we will leave behind 4 days of magic, and a people who have, through their overwhelmingly thankful and positive nature, changed us forever. They have brought into focus what it means to treasure life. Despite the poverty that soaks Cambodia no matter where you turn, we didn't meet a single person who spoke to us unpleasantly. For that matter, we didn't meet a single person who failed to charm us with their kind eyes.

And it didn't matter where we were. In Siem Reap, a tourist mecca that's growing at a dizzying pace, people have at least a chance to make a decent living by providing real services to the more than 2 million international visitors who make the pilgrimmage to see the temples and ruins of Angkor. But drive outside of town, and things change. Families live beside dusty roads, in tiny, often ramshackle, huts, on stilts over stagnant floodwaters. They do backbreaking work such as harvesting rice or fishing, and then selling their bounty either there, on the side of the road, or at a nearby market. Their children play in the side of the roadways, beside the speeding scooters and tuk-tuks and trucks and tour buses, wide-eyed with wonder when a kind-hearted American pulls over and hands them a coloring book, a couple of colored pencils and a piece of bubble gum.

In the floating villages of Tonle Sap, we watched weather-worn souls peforming the daily routines of life on the water--pulling in fishing nets, shoveling piles of tiny fish onto scales to compute their expected windfall, squatting in tiny "kitchens" on their cramped boats, chopping vegetables and gutting fish. We marveled at the adaptations their bodies have undergone, such as the notably flat and wide fronts of their feet--almost like fins--that are generally shoeless, and, obviously, often in the water.

After visiting this enigmatic country, where these third-world scenes are juxtaposed against the ruins of opulent splendor that attract travelers from around the world, we will leave with a new understanding of ourselves. It's impossible not to be enamored by the fact that, even though they all know we tourists can board a plane and go home to our comfy little Western lives, filled with abundant food, comfort, entertainment, and infrastructure, and leaving them to their minimal-subsistance lives, they still smile at us like we've been friends for a lifetime.

For that, and for providing a much needed reminder of what our lives could be, aw kun, Cambodia. We'll be back one day.