An intense workweek

Those weeks felt like a blur of meetings, classes, and problem-solving. Long days that easily stretched past twelve hours. Teaching in the evenings, managing the team, answering questions, fixing things that broke, and planning things that didn’t exist yet. By the time evening came, it often felt like we had already lived two full days.

But despite the exhaustion, we were seeing big wins, fast.

On Tuesday, we managed to get the GDG page up and running. That meant we were finally active in Australia as well, something we had been working toward for a while. When the confirmation came through, Kiki and I looked at each other with the same tired but satisfied smile. One more piece of the puzzle falling into place.

Around the same time, we created surveys to check in with our students, staff, and alumni. Simple forms asking about happiness, well-being, how they felt about the school, and the program. Pressing “send” on those felt strangely nerve-wracking. You never really know what people will say once you ask.

Luckily, the responses came back overwhelmingly positive. Reading through them in the evening, sitting at the kitchen table with our laptops open, felt like a quiet moment of reassurance in the middle of the chaos.

That week, we also had our first meetings with students from partner universities in Europe. They were preparing to come to Cambodia to do their final internships with us. Talking to them over video calls. Their curious faces on the screen, asking questions about the school, about the students, about life here, made everything feel a bit more real. Our little project, which we pushed for to bring international teachers to do internships at Kulen Outreach in Siem Reap, was slowly becoming something bigger.

Then Sreimom came by. She’s a friend of ours who had been looking for work. When we told her about the new NGO structure we were building in Cambodia, her eyes lit up immediately. She was genuinely excited about the mission and wanted to be involved. Before long, we were discussing the possibility of her becoming the Executive Director within the local Cambodian NGO's legal structure.

At the same time, our new teacher, Jury, started that week. Her first days were filled with introductions, observing classes, and slowly stepping into the rhythm of the school. Watching someone new join the team always brings a fresh kind of energy. A reminder that the organization keeps growing.

Another important piece falling into place, it felt like positivity was snowballing.

But while all these positive things were happening, the lawyer situation was still lingering like a storm cloud.

Despite the earlier confusion and lack of guidance, the blame somehow landed on us. The weeks that followed were difficult. Personal boundaries were crossed more than once. It felt like we had to constantly apologize, bow our heads, and avoid asking too many questions. Just do what we were told, even when the instructions weren’t clear.

It was frustrating, exhausting, and at times deeply unfair.

And yet, the work continued.

On top of everything else, we were also trying to get the Learning Center operational. That meant transporting teaching materials up Kulen Mountain, not with a proper 4x4, but with a small minivan that definitely wasn’t designed for jungle roads.

The drive up there was nerve-wracking in a completely different way. The road climbed steeply through the forest, sometimes narrowing into rough sandy tracks with deep holes and loose stones. Every time the van struggled up a hill or slid slightly in the sand, my hands tightened around the seat. It was the kind of ride where you silently hope the engine keeps cooperating.

But somehow, trip by trip, we got the materials up there, without getting stuck, care breaking down, or any accidents.

And then, almost suddenly, we were a couple of weeks in December.

Siem Reap started preparing for Christmas in its own chaotic, joyful way. One evening, we watched the Christmas tuk-tuk parade roll through town. Tuktuks decorated with blinking lights, fake snow, tinsel, and Santa hats. Music blasted from speakers as drivers waved and laughed while passing crowds along the road.

Right next to the parade, completely unrelated but somehow perfectly fitting, a Khun Khmer championship fight was taking place. Bright lights, cheering crowds, fighters warming up in the ring while the parade crawled past outside. It was such a strange mix of things happening at once that we couldn’t help but laugh.

At some point during those weeks, completely unrelated to everything else going on, we picked up a book called Surrounded by Idiots.

It quickly became one of those books where you keep stopping mid-page to say, “Wait… this actually makes sense.”

I strongly recommend it now. Not because it magically solves problems, but because sometimes it helps you understand why people behave the way they do, which, during those weeks, felt surprisingly useful.