I'm back from Mondulikiri via a bumpy 8 hour bus ride. I'm feeling a little ragged right now. I leave for Los Angeles tomorrow evening, but there's so much to do before then.
There's the writing I haven't finished, brunch in a few hours with two lovely ladies, a meeting with the editor, and, oh yeah, gift shopping! The feeling of Christmas, of holidays, has presented itself in an unsteady trickle. One night, Ethan (who does not have the same fond associations with the holiday as I do) and I found ourselves humming and dancing around the flat to cheesy holiday tunes. That was nice. Another day, at Daughters of Cambodia Cafe, the sweet barista brought me a sugar cookie in the shape of a Christmas tree. In general, though, the lights strewn about and the lit-up Christmas trees inside shops feel very artificial and strange to me because, to the vast majority of Khmers, this holiday is clearly a Western import. To me, this holiday has always held strong associations with family time, eating and laughter - and I've made a promise to myself that no matter where I am in the world, I will go home for the holidays.
I'm starting off the day early, with a cup of coffee, sweetened with honey. I'm thinking of getting my sister, Jack, a french press from Russian Market. I do not know how I ever lived without one!