Classic Cambodia
I just collected my first ever stool sample. And it was awkward. A little bit embarrassing even though I was alone in the bathroom. I felt like a scientist. But it was also gross. I mean, we're talking POOP here, people. Fortunately, I get to repeat the process two more times before I leave Cambodia so I can work on mastering the art of stool sample collection. (10,000 hours away from becoming a stool sampling master!!!! JAZZ HANDS!!!)
Another thing I am attempting to master is the art of saying goodbye. My other PCV friends keep saying that they're “so bad at goodbyes” and they're not sure if they're doing it right but then I ask them “who is really good at saying goodbyes anyway?” Is that a thing? Something you'd put in an OKCupid profile?
Somethings you're good at:
Drinking a gallon of water in 2 minutes
Playing sitar
Saying “Goodbyes”
Maybe some people are more skilled at knowing the right things to say at the very last goodbye. Maybe some people just let their tears do the talking. Maybe some people just sneak away in the dark of night, avoiding the goodbyes all together. Or maybe some of us lack the right words → but are plentiful with awkward half sentences and have the intense urge to cry but stifle our own emotions because crying in public is something we've been told is just weird in Khmer culture (or maybe even in American culture a little bit?)
Either way, I fall into the latter category.
Biking By Grandpa Goodbye
I've been counting down to this moment for a long time now and because of this, I have built up my “goodbye to the village” moment in my head a lot. I have also built up my “Hello America!” moment in my head way too much. And now that I'm actually leaving, I think I will be disappointed in the lack of fanfare and parades I was expecting my friends in the village to organize for me. And so this last week in the village has left me feeling kind of empty. It's a hard emotion to pinpoint. People aren't reacting the way I expected them to react when I tell them I'm leaving but how should they react? Should they be bawling their eyes out, pulling out their hair, falling to their knees, hanging onto my leg begging me not to leave as I drag them along the dirt road? YES. Absolutely, yes.
And to my surprise, this is not happening. As my friend and fellow PCV Maria said it “Everyone in the village is business as usual.” Because everyone here is still working, doing their thing to make it another day, and making sure to eat enough rice to maintain their power. But me? I've finished my two year stint as a Peace Corps Volunteer so it's time to go home. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am? Not quite. After two years of struggling and not feeling accomplished, I finally feel like I am equipped to actually start doing my job well. My language skills are....ehhh, so-so. But I finally feel like I have a good rhythm and rapport with the health center staff, enough so that I could feel comfortable asking (forcing?) certain staff members to help me work on projects. And it pains me to think that I'm leaving now, when I now have the confidence to really do something meaningful and sustainable. Two years is not enough time to make any kind of significant developmental progress. Two years is especially not long enough for one lone PCV in one small village that doesn't really know what to do with a PCV. But, on the other hand, TWO YEARS is long time to be away from home. Sure sure, in the large scope of things, if you're looking at an entire lifetime, 2 years isn't really that much but ask any PCV while in the nitty gritty middle parts of their Peace Corps service, TWO YEARS is so so so so so so long. It can feel like an eternity.
And then you get to the point of your Close of Service and you think “Wait! Nononono. I just got started...I...I haven't accomplished what I thought I was originally going to accomplish when I signed up for Peace Corps yet!!!”
Regardless of the struggles I've had here, this place, Cambodia, has become home. And it will be weird going back to America and going back for good. It won't be like my mini-vacations around Cambodia, or Malaysia, or India, where I return after a week or two. It's for good. Yeah sure, I plan on coming back to Cambodia someday in the far off future but the future is so fuzzy and unknown to me that it could be a really really long time till I return.
PP Street madness.
The fact that I don't know when the next time I'll sit at the dinner table with my host family, fighting off hungry cats and dogs, listening to my host mom tell a really funny story that I can't follow; this makes me very sad. I won't have my dirty and dusty market across the street from my house anymore. I won't have my overly sweetened ice coffee for 25 cents anymore. I have actually tolerated a few screaming “hellos” this week because I know I won't get those on a daily basis once I'm back home. And when I'm back, I have to find a REAL JOB that expects me to show up everyday and stay there for 8 HOURS!? That is just madness. What? No nap time? But I just ate lunch!
Adjusting back to the American lifestyle will be harder than it was adjusting to the Cambodian lifestyle. This I know.
All week long, I've felt strange. Drop a cold on top of that strangeness and I am up late at night, restless, tossing and turning, throwing my pillows across the room in a rage, unable to sleep or breathe properly. I want to cry but can't. It feels like something needs to get out...I mean, other than the never-ending snot marathon coming out of my nose. I don't know why I can't cry but I guess the levees just haven't been broken yet (when they do, you might wanna keep your distance.) And maybe I'm subconsciously waiting for the right (or absolutely worst) moment to let it all out.
Just like my feelings before I came to Cambodia; it didn't feel real. The weeks leading up to my journey to Cambodia didn't feel like a reality to me at the time. The moment it finally felt really real, that I was finally in Cambodia as a Peace Corps Volunteer, was when I found a chicken foot in a dish during lunch while still training in Phnom Penh. At that moment, I was not ready to encounter a chicken foot (skin, claws, and all) on my plate. But now, LAY IT ON ME! Yeah, sure, throw that cow brain in the soup! I'm not gonna eat the cow brain but I respect that other people find it delicious brain food. I respect that.
I gave the chicken foot to Neal, now he has chicken legs.
I will be leaving my village tomorrow but I know some parts of me will never leave. As much as I sometimes fight it, I will truly miss Cambodia and all of its wonderful scorching sunshine and flaws.
In closing:
Laurax Before (1st full day in Cambodia):
Who wants short hair again???
Laurax After:
Oh laura, you've aged.
