From 2008 - 2010, I lived on the second floor of a green house on Street 450 in Phnom Penh. While I lived there, I became friends with the family who kept a shop on the corner. During my time there, one of the daughters who had recently married had a baby. When Siu Mey was born, I fell in love. One of the hardest things about this travelling lifestyle I have chosen is the goodbyes. Saying goodbye to this family was really tough.
Fast forward 13 years, and I'm back in Phnom Penh. Yesterday, I went to the 'Russian Market,' a few blocks from where I used to live. At this particular market, there are many tailors who can alter and make clothes quickly and cheaply. There are also, conveniently, stalls that sell fabric. I took a pair of pants and a dress that I needed altered, and made arrangements to have another pair of pants made (the best option is take an article of clothing that you want copied). I was expecting to have to wait for a few days for the alterations, but the tailor said to come back in 30 minutes (!!!).
I decided to take the time to try to find my old house. Phnom Penh has changed so much, I took a few wrong turns before I found what I thought was my old street. It is pretty different. There is a huge Greek restaurant at the end of the street, and lots of little trendy coffee shops. The street is full of big cars. There is an apartment building that I'm sure wasn't there 13 years ago. I walked down the street, pretty sure I was in the wrong place, and stopped in front of what I thought was my old house. When I lived there, there was a monster house being constructed across the street. There was definitely a monster house there. I walked to the other end of the street, to where a canal forms a natural border. There was a shop on the corner, and two familiar-looking women sitting there, but it was different as well. I looked at the women, and they looked at me, but I wasn't sure, so I kept walking. I turned the corner and walked to the next street.
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When I lived here fifteen years ago, there was a bridge across the canal that led to a little market. The bridge was still there, but no market, just more buildings. I stood on the corner and looked up and down the street. Could I have miscalculated so much where I had lived? I walked down the the next street, and stopped at an empty lot that backed on to what was DEFINITELY the house where I had lived. I recognized the back door that had led to my kitchen. I whirled around again, sure now that I had passed 'my family's' shop. As I started to retrace my tracks, I saw an older man and woman at the corner, watching me. As I got closer, the man said, 'Are you Donna?' They had seen me pass by, and they had come looking for me.
We went back to the shop together, and for the next hour, we marvelled at the changes in our lives (we are all older, and some of us quite a bit heavier). Seng Mey Jing now has three daughters. And of course, Siu Mey is now a beautiful, shy teenager. We have all experienced losses and changes. I drank an enormous cup of iced coffee, another of hot tea, ate a banana, and a huge piece of cake, while the rain poured down (a regular Phnom Penh afternoon occurrence). Finally, I needed to leave to pick up my clothing from the market, before it closed. I left with a new rain poncho, and hugs, and promises to visit again next week. My heart is full.
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