So long, Farewell

After one of the craziest months of my life, I am sitting in the Peace Corps office writing this as a new RPCV (Returned Peace Corps Volunteer; although I haven't yet returned, the necessary paperwork is signed, sealed and delivered). Between the LSAT, wrapping up things at site/Peace Corps paperwork and stool samples (yes, I know... I was just as disgusted doing it as you are reading this), finalizing my travel plans, stocking up on items before I am overwhelmed by price tags at home, and an amazing visit from my friends May, Brooke and Paige, my life has been pretty chaotic with emotions ranging from melancholy to elation.

My friends' visit was absolutely wonderful and it was a really interesting way to analyze how transformational this experience has been. May and Brooke flew into Ho Chi Minh and took a bus to my site. As soon as we got on a tuk tuk, I was giving them a crash course on how to politely say 'hello' (Joom reap sua) to my host family. The second night of their arrival was my going away party, which was one of the most emotional, yet amazing, parties I have ever had the privilege to partake in. My host family surprised me with this $40 sign they had made for me in Kmai, which roughly translated to "A party for our daughter Jacqueline (Nisa)." My host family made sure to take care of all the party preparations, which included preparing food, setting up tables and chairs, and everything else that I didn't even know needed to be prepped for an authentic Kmai be'te jub'lian (party).

As I was the host, I had to greet all the guests and make sure everyone had enough food, beer, etc. I was running around like a chicken with its head cut off (a perfect analogy as actual chickens were decapitated as part of the party preparations). Almost everyone I invited showed up, ranging from teachers to my students to the entire neighborhood. I'd say that at its peak, the party boasted around 80 people; not too shabby, eh? After a few beers, the levy that was protecting my tears could no longer hold them back and they came gushing forth. I am pretty sure every single guest saw me cry, but instead of being freaked out like I thought they'd be, they seemed extremely flattered that each of them was a part of the reason why I was so emotional to leave. And no one quite reciprocated my emotions as powerfully as my host mother.

The next morning as I was getting ready to leave my wonderful home for the last two years, my host mother emerged from her room with severely blood shot eyes. Apparently, she had been crying all morning and she just came up to me and embraced me, shaking with sobs and continually telling me how much she loved me. My host sisters and brother came over and joined the group embrace, as well as my host grandmother. We were a big blob of tears, intertwined in the hopes that our memories and relationship will continue to remain a deep part of our lives. My host mother kept saying that I MUST come back to visit very soon, setting a ceiling of 2 years. I looked over to May and Brooke and their eyes glimmered with hints of tears; they later told me it was one of the most touching moments they had ever seen.

After a very prolonged goodbye, I set out with May, Brooke and another PCV, Jeremy, toward Phnom Penh. Looking out at the meager and shabby shacks juxtaposed against the lush rice paddies and beautiful bright blue sky, I couldn't help but think of the striking symbolism in that scene: despite the confusion and hardship throughout my two years here, the larger picture was a scene of true beauty and simplicity. Whenever I reflect back on my time in Cambodia, I have a feeling those rice paddies will pop up.

Traveling with my friends was great. They were eager to learn about Cambodian culture and by the end of the trip, I realized just how extensive my knowledge about Cambodia has become over the last two years. I also realized how amazing human beings are in their ability to adapt. When I first got here, I probably thought some of the same things my things my friends thought while they were visiting: This traffic is insane. These smells are nauseating. Are those chickens? Damn, those cows are skinny! Do I really use that sprayer to wipe? But as each day unfolds, we adapt. And it's a beautiful thing. We learn to adjust. We learn to open our minds. Or at least some of us do. You've absolutely got to be flexible in Peace Corps and in life in general. What an amazing lesson to learn while still in my early 20's. I feel like I'm already quite a few steps ahead of many of my peers.

And what about the rest of my life lessons while serving in the Peace Corps? Well, I think I need to get back to the good ol' USA to really absorb all of it and reflect. It's an incredibly powerful feeling to have lived in a place as fascinating and equally frustrating as Cambodia for two years. Not only did I live here, but I found my niche here. I have a second family in a little town in south-eastern Cambodia who loves me just the same as if I were their own flesh and blood. How many people can say that? There is no way an experience like this can allow any person to look at the world with quite the same lenses as they did before they came. For this and many other reasons, I will forever cherish my time in Cambodia and the relationships I have built. If the people I have encountered along the way feel half the enthusiasm and appreciation that they have shown me, I will feel utterly delighted and accomplished.

So what's next? I do what I do best: give it my all and continue to adapt to whatever life throws my way.

Cambodia, you will forever remain with me.

Some pics from the last few weeks: