The Ritual of Leaving

Phnom Penh is a revolving door. That is a fact. People come and go and that’s what makes this place so alive. I can have conversations about malaria, the environment, small business loans, biking to remote areas, travel to Malaysia, and the best place to eat Cambodian food in town. Most of us are young, restless, caught in between careers and wanderlust. Afraid of commitment and settling in one place where people only talk of last night’s show, new cars, money, hotel points, and the weekend shopping Sale at Macy’s. [NOTE: There is nothing wrong with talking about these things. I enjoy Glee twice as much as you do, believe me. I also love shopping at Macy's, nice hotels here and there and I still want a Mini-Cooper someday] When we leave home we miss out on birthdays, graduations, reunions, weddings, and so on. It is a sacrifice. We leave our homes to be closer to other things that matter to us—ideas, innovations in the field, travel, the exotic— only to be left behind by those of us that leave to move on to something new. Phnom Penh is a revolving door. It is a fact, and you have to learn to be okay with that.

That being said, a good friend just left. I met Katie, the way I’ve met other people. Through friends, of friends, of friends. That’s the only way you meet people here, or at bar. The night Katie left, I took out that cheap plastic Nokia phone and went through a ritual: the cleansing of the phone. Basically, I purged it of friend’s numbers that no longer exist. People leave, but they leave things behind. The things they leave are gifts and remind you of who they were, and maybe who they will become.

Betsy was the first to leave last May. I met her through Tim on our bike ride to Mondulkiri. Her infectious laughter woke me up from a cold year in Chicago, and I am indebted to her for leaving behind something intangible: The belief that those of us here could actually change the world through the little things we do every day. She also gave me a goal: to run the Angkor Wat Half-Marathon, which I completed last December. Betsy will take D.C. and the world by storm as an Anti-Human Trafficking and Women’s Rights Activist.

I actually met Fitria through Susan, one of my first housemates, but Fitria was also living on Sisowath next to the apartment I was watching for a friend. She was my only neighbor for a month and introduced me to the “UN Tribunal summer crowd.” When Fitria left to go back to Indonesia to finish her legal studies, she left me some cloth to make a skirt at the market and her Indonesian tea that felt so good when my stomach hurt. Fitria will become an exceptional international lawyer breaking free from conservative Indonesia to explore the world.

I met Helen through Tim, and Helen left me her room at the flat I currently live at. An incredibly energetic Brit with a knack for the wild party life in the Penh, Helen left me clean bed sheets, a towel, and a wicker shelf set. Helen will become a cross-cultural trainer in the UK, overseeing programs that emphasize the need for young people to get out and see the world.

When American David left, a sweltering summer of Pontoon parties and Chinese dumplings also left. As all the summer interns returned home, a new breeze flowed through Phnom Penh and it got quieter. Deepika can attest to that. I met David through Katie whom I met through Tim. David left me a motorcycle helmet and an iron. He’s also left me with the idea that I should keep writing, if not for others, at least for myself. David, I think you’ll definitely be one of those environmental activist lawyers responsible for taking down failures like the Copenhagen climate talks and actually doing work on the ground, wherever “the ground” may be.

Kathrin was my beautiful German roommate from Berlin. For two months my roommates and I watched her deal with sticky situations in Cambodia and fight against irresponsibility and those that take advantage of you. She left me a lot of Sunblock and the idea that you should always do what feels right even if it means being apart from family, friends, and boyfriends. They will understand. Kathrin will be an international lawyer in Germany and then go live in Latin America or become a model.

Taka was not a grass-eater. He was a Japanese “carnivore” as he put it. With a deep sense of curiosity for the living conditions of the poor and urban development, Taka left his plastic cigarette-butts bottle on our patio and a funny insight into what it is like to be a young male in Japan. Taka is going to re-develop an Asian city and quit smoking someday. Taka, I never thought you were a grass-eater.

Mary was the second German. She was just cool and did her own thing and questioned her own studies in agricultural development. She was the first German I met that loved (and took down) jars of peanut butter. Before I saw her off on her dirt-bike trip across the south of Cambodia, she left me with the idea that all over the world, women can be pretty good at the things men are supposed to be good at. Mary is going to leave Germany to go surf in Australia while she figures out her next steps.

I hated when Deepika left. My smart and super cool, Indian-American lawyer friend, she was both a mentor and my big sister. She taught me to work hard for what I want, and to move on to something else when I’m not happy. She taught me to cherish what we have and that it’s good to be patient when you’re young, and perhaps not so good when you are older because after all, we are always short on time. She left me plenty of relationship advice (for my non-existent relationships) and let me copy her beautiful shoes. Deepika is one of those people you’ll always be friends with no matter where you end up. I know you’ll continue to do amazing things for others as well as yourself whether it’s in Cuba, LA, India, or Europe.

Charel/Karel’s face always lit up when he talked about Africa. That was the best part, to see in someone who they are and who they will become based on the past experiences they’ve had when they were young. Not only did I learn more about mosquitoes than I ever thought I could, I learned what it is like to be carefree, compassionate and open with others. This tall, Belgian guy left me a Disney DVD collection and the hope that someday I will go to Africa. Charel, I think one day you’ll be where you really want to be, out in an African province researching the origin of tropical diseases or a bug's life.

Katie was my close friend for 8 months, though we were technically ND-BC rivals based on our University Alma Matters. When Kathrin left, Katie took her place at the flat and stayed on to have more adventures with me in Cambodia and Laos. She always found people and organizations doing cool things in microfinance and development. She set high goals for herself and taught me the importance of letting go of something or someone when it is not meant to be and that maybe I can become a rock climber one day. Katie will always place the interests of others before her own, especially when the others are struggling to make an income in developing worlds. I think you’ll definitely be on the front line of business and development, the future of closing poverty gaps. Katie left me her bigger pillow, Tylenol, and her straightening iron.

And now it’s almost February and the dynamics of my flat and work and life have changed. Gemma (French-American), Mauritz (German), Nora (Finnish and not pictured above), and I now cohabit in our Cambodian flat. We get along really well and at least three of us like to refer to ourselves as “The Family” when we go out. Gemma, Mauritz and I like to play the post-it game. Last night, we went around decorating the flat with yellow post-its with the French, German, Spanish, and Khmer spelling of words. We hope to be fluent by April when both of them leave.