Mondulkiri

Chickens in the trees.

Cats on the bar.

Cows under the floor.

The Nature Lodge, in Mondulkiri, isn’t your typical Cambodian guesthouse. Run by a Khmer guy and his Israeli wife, it’s a sanctuary of blissful rest that aims for “whimsical” rather than “luxurious.” For example, the bathrooms adjacent to each cabin only have half a roof, with trees and bushes protruding from the bright blue cement floor. The sink and shower drain directly to the garden.

The owners live right next to the cabins.

My friend Emily and I spent the last four days there during our break for Khmer New Year, when most Cambodians visit relatives in the provinces. Mondulkiri is a tiny town in the hills, with more wind and less heat than nearly anywhere else in Cambodia. April is the peak of hot season, though it’s been mild this year, and so Mondulkiri was wonderfully refreshing.

As its name suggests, the Nature Lodge is not downtown, but on a hill overlooking town. Every morning I woke up early and climbed the hill, marveling at the chance to be totally alone outside. I needed the reminder that Cambodia truly is a beautiful country – I hadn’t left Phnom Penh since early January. Mondulkiri brought back treasured memories of growing up in Vermont.

Our plans weren’t big. We took a tour of nearby waterfalls, entertained along the way by a very affable motodup driver. We walked into town. We toured an orchard and coffee plantation. It was enough.

On Thursday, our plans for an outing fell through, and I enjoyed a whole day of reading and relaxing. Since our room didn’t have a fan, I opted for the restaurant in the Nature Lodge, which had better air flow. Devoid of guests most of the day, only the staff remained: that couple, their adorable year-old daughter Lila, their two young nephews, and a few others. I’d already talked with most of them, and was glad to be around them more.

Cambodians are generally a friendly and easygoing bunch, but these seemed to have a nearly tangible joy and warmth. The girl watching Lila patiently helped me practice Khmer. Lila’s mom, Sheery, told me about the band playing in the background – Dengue Fever – and their sweet fusion of traditional Khmer music and psychedelic rock. Her Singaporean neighbor asked me about Killer Bunnies, the crazy card game Emily and I had played at dinner the night before. The nephews tickled Lila, joked around, fiddled with the playlists. I felt so at home with them, even when I was just reading in the corner.

The restaurant was built around/into some remarkable trees.

I work all the time. It’s a struggle not to do schoolwork on Sundays, though I need the day off for mental health. I worked straight through the March holiday, and even Thursday, I spent a few hours writing review questions. I’ve come to terms with being very busy all the time for now – it’s quite normal for new teachers.

Still, I hope that “I’m busy” and “Work is important” aren’t the main things I communicate to others. Whether or not I’m not savoring lush scenery or indulging in a good book, my life has so many sources of delight. No matter the length of my to-do list, I want to exude warmth and contentment like I saw in Mondulkiri.