Memoirs of a Canadian Abroad

This morning I woke up, far before my alarm, which is normal for me here. I’m not sure if it’s the temperature, how refreshed I feel, or that maybe I don’t need as much sleep as I do in Canada; perhaps it is because I look forward to the days more than I did back home.

How did I end up here, and more importantly, how am I already leaving?

I will miss everything about Cambodia; both the good and the bad. The saying that you need to experience highs and lows to appreciate both extremes personifies my sentiments exactly. Garbage in the streets - but understanding that most of it is neatly packaged so the garbage men have an easier time rounding it up - demonstrates the kindness of the people. Dogs of all shapes and sizes, of mixed blood and purebreds are everywhere - but are not sold - they are taken in simply because the dog needs a home. Cambodians have large, accommodating hearts that extend far beyond their own desires, and they often push aside their own goals if it means helping someone, or something, else.

I will miss the freshest, most exotic fruits available, simply purchased by walking down the street. I will miss drinking freshly squeezed sugar cane juice out of plastic bags, which, in my entire three months, have never once broken. I will miss wild tropical storms and searing dry heat. I will miss the mountains in the north, the beaches in the South, and the jungles in the East. I will regret not spending more time here and seeing more things, but relish everything that I have seen and experienced. I will safeguard the beauty, wonder and sacredness of the temples in my heart, and vow to pilgrimage to them once again. I will miss the people - their welcoming smiles and children’s excited, high-pitched ‘hellos!’ - because that is all they know in English. I will miss my guesthouse and the family who offers me small waves as I leave for, and return from work. I will miss the beautiful orange robes of the monks, the wailing of the death ceremony at the pagodas, and the flamboyantly decorated outdoor wedding receptions. I will remember the darkness of the Khmer Rouge and the valiant people who remained behind.

One of the other interns mentioned that after this type of experience, you never really have a ‘home’ again; there is always something missing; a glimpse of somewhere else whispering in the back of your mind - the closest word to what we have become is modern day nomads. She has managed to put it more eloquently than I could ever hope for.