As a serial traveller I am usually keen to move on after a few weeks in one country, as there are always new places to see and new cultures to immerse myself in. However this was not the case with Cambodia. I left a little bit of my heart there. Whilst the scenery and the numerous temples and sunsets were breathtaking, it was the people who truly took my breath away. As a nation they have been through untold suffering in recent history, yet they are the kindest, most honest and genuine people I have ever met. When I said that I was teaching English there, I was guaranteed a discount in taxis, tuktuks, markets and even coffee shops.
Such was their gratitude to any foreigner who had come to help them. As well as teaching the Buddhist monks I taught 2 community groups every day. These classes were open to any one, of any age, and they were packed. There were 6 year olds and 40 year olds in the same class, all sharing the common goal of learning English. To them this is the language of self improvement and social advancement. Classes were held in a battered old classroom, within a temple, which had electric light bulbs dangling dangerously from cables, and a rickety ceiling fan.
One afternoon I was teaching in a terrible storm. Pupils turned up in their flop flops, literally soaked to the skin. After about 10 minutes I noticed rain seeping through the ceiling and a few minutes later this was gushing like a waterfall. I continued teaching, and watched as the students simply moved their desks away from the torrent and continued writing. Within 30 minutes half the floor was submerged. and they were sitting in a river, but still they carried on studying. In an English school this would have led to a call to the fire brigade and a whole school evacuation. But not here. The desire to soldier on and study in that classroom, regardless of the obstacles, really did sum up the Cambodian spirit. I learnt far more than I taught there. I promised I would go back, and I will…
