It's been a while since I've last written. Forgive me, but I get caught up in things as so many of us do.
Most of you know that I've taken a new job in Phnom Penh, Cambodia. I'm working in the wine industry doing... well, mostly marketing stuff. I'm not quite sure how I would define any of it. It's a little bit of this, a little bit of that. I guess most importantly, it's a new page in my life.
I don't think anyone who knew me two years ago, or perhaps even a year ago, could say that I'm the same person I was. Singapore has changed me, perhaps for the good, perhaps for the bad, but that's kind of what growing up is about, isn't it? I'm no longer the young, excited kid running at the world, arms akimbo and expecting everything. I've steadied myself, a little bit; I may still be running arms akimbo, but I've got direction or at least the semblance there of.
After a somewhat trying flight out here (I'm keeping the Ashby/Burch tradition of missing flights alive), I touched down in Phnom Penh a week ago, about 10:30 in the morning. The city was much as I remember it, chaotic and alive with the bustle of people. And of course the smells - no two places smell quite the same. And Phnom Penh, of course, has it's own smell.
I was greeted at my new apartment by Jean-Baptiste, my new roommate and colleague. We're sharing an apartment together for the first few weeks we are here until we can find something of our own. We went out to lunch and toured around the city for a little while before I collapsed into my bed, exhausted from jetlag and stimulus.
I started work first thing the next morning. I haven't stopped since. I've realized, over the past year or so, that I like work. I enjoy working; I enjoy doing something. I'm not quite sure where or when this perverse relationship with work entered our national psyche, but it did, viewing work as something evil to bemoan and berate. We're at a loss for it. I have found, and do find great satisfaction in working - sad, but true, I get bored if I'm left to my own devices for an extended period of time. That's not a bad thing, boredom can be delightful in the right context (I'm thinking of a rainy day in Michigan), but the stimulus of doing something, it appeals to me.
So I've been here a week now, actually, not quite. This weekend I spent in Singapore, sort of visiting my old haunts and definitely visiting my old friends. Of course, it was very good to see them. I love them, and my opportunities to see them will undoubtedly shrivel as time goes. I think of all my closest friends when I was in high school - how many of them do I see now? It's the curse that comes with being itinerant - I have to struggle and choose which connections I keep alive.
I realized over the past few days, over the past week, how much I enjoy the sights and sounds of Asia. All my relatives in the US are thinking that I enjoy it MORE than the sights and sounds of the US, but that isn't true. They're different and in many, many ways incomparable. How would I compare the vigor of the mountains to the endless stretch of rice paddies? How do I compare the towering steel of a sky scrapper or sprawling suburbs to an endless row of pastel shop houses?
I am, in this moment, delirious and exhausted with jetlag and lack of sleep, but awed and humbled by the majesty of the world. How can you deny a god who offers us such endless possibility come fraught with peril and evil as it is?
Most of you know that I've taken a new job in Phnom Penh, Cambodia. I'm working in the wine industry doing... well, mostly marketing stuff. I'm not quite sure how I would define any of it. It's a little bit of this, a little bit of that. I guess most importantly, it's a new page in my life.
I don't think anyone who knew me two years ago, or perhaps even a year ago, could say that I'm the same person I was. Singapore has changed me, perhaps for the good, perhaps for the bad, but that's kind of what growing up is about, isn't it? I'm no longer the young, excited kid running at the world, arms akimbo and expecting everything. I've steadied myself, a little bit; I may still be running arms akimbo, but I've got direction or at least the semblance there of.
After a somewhat trying flight out here (I'm keeping the Ashby/Burch tradition of missing flights alive), I touched down in Phnom Penh a week ago, about 10:30 in the morning. The city was much as I remember it, chaotic and alive with the bustle of people. And of course the smells - no two places smell quite the same. And Phnom Penh, of course, has it's own smell.
I was greeted at my new apartment by Jean-Baptiste, my new roommate and colleague. We're sharing an apartment together for the first few weeks we are here until we can find something of our own. We went out to lunch and toured around the city for a little while before I collapsed into my bed, exhausted from jetlag and stimulus.
I started work first thing the next morning. I haven't stopped since. I've realized, over the past year or so, that I like work. I enjoy working; I enjoy doing something. I'm not quite sure where or when this perverse relationship with work entered our national psyche, but it did, viewing work as something evil to bemoan and berate. We're at a loss for it. I have found, and do find great satisfaction in working - sad, but true, I get bored if I'm left to my own devices for an extended period of time. That's not a bad thing, boredom can be delightful in the right context (I'm thinking of a rainy day in Michigan), but the stimulus of doing something, it appeals to me.
So I've been here a week now, actually, not quite. This weekend I spent in Singapore, sort of visiting my old haunts and definitely visiting my old friends. Of course, it was very good to see them. I love them, and my opportunities to see them will undoubtedly shrivel as time goes. I think of all my closest friends when I was in high school - how many of them do I see now? It's the curse that comes with being itinerant - I have to struggle and choose which connections I keep alive.
I realized over the past few days, over the past week, how much I enjoy the sights and sounds of Asia. All my relatives in the US are thinking that I enjoy it MORE than the sights and sounds of the US, but that isn't true. They're different and in many, many ways incomparable. How would I compare the vigor of the mountains to the endless stretch of rice paddies? How do I compare the towering steel of a sky scrapper or sprawling suburbs to an endless row of pastel shop houses?
I am, in this moment, delirious and exhausted with jetlag and lack of sleep, but awed and humbled by the majesty of the world. How can you deny a god who offers us such endless possibility come fraught with peril and evil as it is?
No comments:
Post a Comment