Actually, You Do Hafta Go Home

Due to my remarkably fever-free state the last few days, I'm being sent home. Things I will miss about my stay in Phnom Penh: air conditioning, internet access, a refrigerator, and Scrubs (yes, they have Scrubs here! And My Name Is Earl!).

Things I won't miss: the same damn story on CNN 15,000 times every day. The commercial for Seoul, South Korea, whose audio goes a little something like this: "Seoul. Renew your soul. Seoul. Soul of Asia." (Read it out loud to realize how annoying it is.) In fact, I never want to hear either the word "soul" or the word "Seoul" ever again. I will also not miss any of the coverage of the 2008 Olympics in Beijing. Guess what year it is people? 2007. That's right. The damn Olympics are a FULL YEAR AWAY. Until they begin, do not mention their existence. Nobody cares. People in Beijing are sick of your cameras. The pollution in Beijing is sick of your cameras. Just leave it alone. The last thing I won't miss about Phnom Penh is, when I first step my big toe out of the apartment building, every moto driver in a 5-k radius shouts out "Lady! Motodop?" The moto drivers in my hometown have learned from my constant annoyed refusals that their persistence will never, ever in a million years pay off. There is no time to teach all the moto drivers in Phnom Penh that Peace Corps Volunteers can't ride motos, so my beleaguered-sounding "No!" must be employed every. Single. Time.

Ah well. At least the dengue's gone.