You're On Your Own Kid

Time is a strange concept, one that often alludes me. I have been in Cambodia for two weeks today; it feels like I just arrived and also like it has been an eternity since I left home. I suppose this makes sense when I think about how much I have experienced in the last few weeks, and the sensation of permanence that exists in my mind about this move. It’s not to say I expect to live here for ever, and I know that I could move home tomorrow if I wanted to. It is more so that, despite our constantly changing perception of the passage of time, it only flows one direction; forward.

And so here I sit, two weeks into this “new life”, now straddling the line between what feels like a vacation and the start of something vastly different. I plan to start looking for a place to live today, in fact the whole reason I am writing this now is to procrastinate doing so. For then the line is crossed in both a literal and symbolic sense, once I have a place to live then I live here.

The last two weeks have been a rollercoaster, though less of an extreme one than I anticipated my first days would be. Deflating as it may sound, it’s perhaps been like a child’s rollercoaster in an empty amusement park. The highs and lows haven’t been extreme, and it has been an admittedly lonely journey at times, yet there is a sense of childlike joy that inevitably accompanies any ride if one embraces the ride for what it is. Why it has felt like a child’s ride? Well because despite how much has happened in the last two weeks, I am not rushing myself. The beauty of choosing to live here is that I don’t have to pack a lifetime of experiences into a few weeks in a manner that cheapens them. It’s also helping to keep me from getting too overwhelmed.

Having now spent a week in both Phnom Penh and Siem Reap, I am feeling confident that Phnom Penh is the city for me. I had honestly anticipated I would want to live in Siem Reap, but that I would also find it too small. I did find it too small, but even worse; it felt like a tourist trap. Phnom Penh however is unlike any other city I’ve experienced. Whereas Siem Reap felt somewhat artificially packaged together for the optimal tourist experience, the busy streets of Phnom Penh feel haphazardly strewn together in a manner reflective of the rapid growth the city has apparently experienced in recent years. The whole city is alive with a palpable frenetic energy. The narrow streets are full of traffic, which often comes to a stop as opposing traffic inches past with no more than a few inches of clearance. Intersections seemingly uncontrolled with vehicles simultaneously moving in every direction yet somehow not colliding. Rather than serving as walkways, sidewalks are overtaken with parking, vendors, and occasional piles of trash or rubble from perpetual construction. French colonial architecture is intermixed with modern skyscrapers, with no shortage of coffee shops, intimate pubs, unregulated pharmacies, and “casual massage parlors”. Yet despite every inch of the city feeling alive, there is a stillness in the air brought forth by the warm, welcoming and laid-back locals. Rather than living in frustration with the poverty, poorly designed infrastructure, hot and humid climate, and dense population, they appear content, happy even.

Juxtaposed against the chaos and crowds of Phnom Penh, here I sit alone; still new enough to not truly know anyone, or be known. Full of opportunity, introspection, and fear as the reality of what I am doing sets in more and more each day. As the initial excitement and newness fades away, a longing for familiarity grows. I find comfort it my well-developed stubbornness that I know will see me through the tough days. I find comfort in the kindness of the strangers I encounter. I find comfort in the cities energy that is well attuned to the somewhat chaotic frequency I exist on. I find comfort in the endless opportunity’s life holds. Even if this journey is at times a scary one, I find comfort within myself. Life has prepared me well for this, past challenges that felt senseless reveal meaning in the ways I know how to cope on my own. I have always been an independent person, and I have grown resilient through life’s many challenges. So to borrow someone else’s words that run the risk of sounding far bleaker than intended:

You’re on your own kid

Yeah, you can face this

You’re on your own kid, you always have been

And with that sentiment, I find peace. The familiarity I currently crave is already slowly forming, and whatever it is that I am looking for in moving here… I think I am going to find it.