Jessica K.

How do I explain my day? Is this place really in the same world I live on? Are Americans really angels? It can't be that most of the world, lives like this.
We met Arn again today. Whenever I see him I often try to think about what he went though. He was a child soldier, and even now he gives all his money away for the country he loves.
We went on a tuk-tuk ride today. The transportation is far from anything we're used to. The only cars we see are usually the governments; and not any citizens. At the market we were attacked by beggers. I was forced to say no toand starving babies and adults who said they were blind.

If I had said yes, I knew I would have been bombarded. The food at the market was crazy. Whoever thought of serving meat at 85 degrees? I saw fish get cut up alive, and fruit that looked like it was from a different planet. Flies were everywhere.
On the way to the master's music classes, I was expecting to see Cambodian's off the street on a nice stage. This fantasy seemed to go away after being told about the rising HIV/AIDS issue due to prostitutes. The street where we were about to go to supposedly at night as people going down the streeet looking for a beautiful early teenage Cambodian girl to have for $2. Who are these "people" that are up to no good? These people inculde Westerners, that's right.
We were also told we were entering a "slum area." That was exactly what it was. Trash was everywhere. Kids were running around without pants. We were led to four different classes (which taught singing, dancing, and playing unkown instruments. We were greeted from kids of all ages; it seems almost as it's a sin if a child does not bow their head.
I looked around the room, looked at all these children who have gone through so much. Some were orphans. Out of their mouths came power. These kids seemed complete with music. There was a light on the ceiling held on by a bew wires. Yet, these kids were with huge smiles, the nicest smile I havfe ever seen.
The littliest girl who seemed as if she was four, was the cutest thing ever. I had to hold myself back from carrying her home.
I smiled at her innocence, and sure enough a smile from her gleamed right back. After their magnificent dance, we went to take a picture with them. I sat next to the little girl, and she put her hand on my leg. It turns out she was nine. I started crying, was she on her way to being prostitute? Was she an orphan? I thought about how she would kill for my life.
Another boy peaked through the door. I imagined he was trying to get a peak at Ben's height, Adam's pale skin, and my blonde hair. He quickly bowed his head, more tears began to form. Many of the kids stare at us, they think of us as beautiful and unknown; I can't complain because we think the same of them.
The kids dreams were to have everything I already had. One group of girls seemed fascinated by my braces. I realized none of them had glasses, something that they probably needed.
The tears stopped, but the wealth of beauty in their art never did.
As I walked through the streets which were contrasted with a huge government building in the back. I felt like it was all fake. That they were acting out something that happened from th epast. Their English was adoralbe answering in full sentences, "My name is..." Dozens of other children said hello. Oh, how I wish I could speak Khmer.
On a lighter note, the place we went to dinner at bugs all over the rice. I decided not to have that extra source of protein, and stayed with my power bars. Well I'm in a rush and must go for another exciting day in Phnom Penh.