My family’s big on travel, so I’ve been on several 10-hour-plus-plane-ride vacations within the past few years. Europe and Australia are beautiful and fascinating places, but a tad removed from third-world. I knew about poverty and hunger, but at the same time I lived in somewhat of a healthy, happy bubble. While on the one hand ignorance can be bliss, I craved insight into what made me so lucky. In other words, I wanted to pop my bubble.

Cambodia is the poorest nation in Southeast Asia, and though I’d never been to Asia before I had no trouble believing it. Battambang, Cambodia felt a lifetime away from the Los Angeles airport I’d been in 20 hours before. The bright green grass was picturesque, but the shanty, run-down huts were not.

I traveled with a group of 8 other American high school students, through a program called Rustic Pathways. Rustic Pathways leads over 100 service trips around the world, and mine was called the Battambang Orphanage Project. The name’s an accurate description, in that we volunteered at an orphanage in Battambang.

Driving to the orphanage for the first time was scary for primarily two reasons: 1. Cambodia has zero traffic laws, and 2. I had no idea what to expect. What if the orphans didn’t like me? What if I couldn’t handle the 100 degree heat? How would I communicate without speaking Khmer?

My fears were alleviated as soon as I exited my van. Immediately, I was bombarded with love and affection by 53 Cambodian orphans. It may sound cheesy, but I just couldn’t stop smiling. Though we weren’t able to communicate through language, we bonded through sheer play. Never before have I had so many thumb wars or played so much volleyball in such a concentrated period of time.

In addition to playing, my group did physical work around the orphanage. One day, we planted a rice paddy outside the dining hall. The work was strenuous, the heat was unbearable, and the mud was everywhere. I was beat, but the orphans were energetic and full of life. It struck me that their lack of opportunities made them excited for any menial task, simply because it was something to do.

With all our work and play, several funny encounters inevitably came up. We taught them the children’s song “Four Little Ducks,” and they mistook it for a serious, musically challenging piece. When we were spray-painting their beds, we accidentally spray-painted one of their hair yellow. Then all the rest of the orphans wanted yellow hair.

Though I loved being with the orphans, a certain sadness weighed into my experience. They were all so spunky and willing to work, yet the chances of them succeeding in life were slim. Our translator, Onion (swear it’s his real name), explained that almost all of them would grow up to become rice farmers.

The worst part by far was leaving. Almost all of the orphans had been abandoned at a young age, and leaving them felt like abandonment all over again. Seeing them cry was heartbreaking, because they deserved so much more than they had.

For the second time I’ll beg you to ignore my cheesiness, but Cambodia was undeniably life-changing. Seeing the orphans so happy and optimistic while living in rough conditions was inspiring, and something I think back upon whenever I feel like the world is out to get me. In other words, I succeeded in my mission: my bubble was popped.