One Last Sleep

What a day we had today! Up at our usual weekday time, we were off again by 8:30 to tuktuk to Vannary’s for her daughter Marta’s engagement ceremony. From a distance, we recognized the canopy over the street in front of their house. And we thought those canopies were just for weddings and funerals! The ceremony was in progress but several dozen people were sitting out on the street waiting for breakfast! Vannary had suggested we arrive at 8:45, but we learned later that she probably thought the ceremony would be over by 9. 

Inside the living room, about 20 senior family members circled the long narrow room to observe the “conversation” between the bride-to-be’s parents and the groom-to-be’s parents, to listen to the clergyman’s intonation of commitment between the parents, long before there was any sign of Marta or Thearith. Thearith appeared first. Coming in from the back of the room, he knelt before his parents in his navy suit with long-sleeved shirt and tie, bowed many times to them and to Marta’s parents. Eventually, Marta appeared, coming in from the kitchen at the front of the room. She looked much older in make-up and a spectacular hairdo. She too bowed to her parents and his, usually in sets of three. 

Marcus and I were standing and sitting outside the living room in a sheltered ante-room to the house, sweltering in the heat, despite a cross breeze. I can’t imagine how hot it was in the living room …with the addition of a camera-man’s lights.

Fortunately, Veery, an LWF Cambodia Community Empowerment Officer from Samaki Meanchey, also attended and was able to help us understand what was happening and who these people were (her mother was among the important guests seated in the living room). 

Eventually the ceremony was complete and brunch was served–as usual a wonderful feast of Khmer dishes (rice, of course; seafood and green mango salad, grilled fish, sour soup, fermented fish and vegetables). There had been an earlier suggestion that Marta’s sisters Molika and Linda could help us with interpretation but with 200 guests at home, they had their hands full. Vannary, Saya (Mr Vannary), Molika, and Linda could be spotted for the next hour dashing from one table to another making sure everyone had food and drink. 

After we were well and truly fed, we managed to talk for a few minutes with fiancée and fiancé. Marta still likes to believe that we’ll come back next year for her wedding. 

Later we were able to hive Vannary, Molika, and Linda off from the crowd and present Vannary with a farewell gift and the girls with some of our household effects–silicone spatulas (an unknown kitchen utensil here), a copy of Canadian Living, a Canadian flag, a bag of toothbrushes, some Japanese curry roux, and a jar of cashew butter. All received with cries of delight. 

And then the time came to say goodbye. Heart-wrenching for all. Tears were shed, even by the newly engaged Marta, who could barely afford to cry with all that make-up. Marcus expressed concern about that and lightened the mood for a minute, but there was still the walk to the tuktuk and a final embrace before we pulled away.

We came home to prepare for the shipping company’s arrival to take charge of two of our suitcases, leaving us one each for the Japan leg. Marcus wants me to describe the Keystone Movers to you, but words fail. We had our two bags packed and ready when they arrived. And by coincidence, Mrs Kim Lay had just arrived to give us a VERY generous gift and so stayed to make sure these young men kept everything above board. In the end, SHE walked away with an information package on the company. 

While they began unpacking Marcus’s bag because of its dimensions, we kept repeating that the bag had to go, too. One of the young men went back to the office to get a bigger box that the suitcase would fit into, so the box of Marcus’s things was unpacked and put in the longer box. With some effort, the empty bag was then stuffed into the box and the box was taped shut. 

A calculator was called for and some figures related to the volume resulted in a decision to repack the box. Well, at least to open it up and remove a few items. 

In the meantime, much the same had happened to my suitcase. Unpacked into one box that was too big, so repacked into a box that was …ooops, too small… just a minute, can we use that box? So eventually, all my things –and my empty suitcase– ended up in another box that we had brought from the office to pack things for Rachel. 

The calculations on this smaller box revealed that it was one kg short of its minimum weight charge. So, we’d have to pay for 16 kg, even if there were only 15 kg in it. Okay, we’ll send our package of important papers (except the travel documents and the health info). Much to our surprise it weighed 1.5 kg! Glad we aren’t lugging that through Japan.

About two hours after ACI’s arrival, both suitcases and their contents (but outside, not inside) were packed into two separate boxes, weighed, and the invoice was calculated: 49.5 kg at $12.54 / kg to Canada, door to door (in our case, Tim’s door). But Someth had told us he’d negotiated $12.40. Another calculation. Okay. It’s still amazing since any other shipping option, by sea or by DHL, was three to four times this price.

We had cringed occasionally as our careful folding and arranging was abandoned to squeeze everything into the boxes. Not to worry: when these boxes, stuffed and taped, arrive at the office …get this… they will all be unpacked, itemized, and repacked! Very carefully, he assures us. VERY carefully. And then, some day next week, they’ll be loaded on a plane and sent to Edmonton.

We barely had time to rest when Boran arrived for our last tuktuk ride to church. A typically musically boisterous service, with a new priest, but at announcement time our departure was shared, much to my surprise. It was very gratifying to have so many people, even some we don’t know, come to say goodbye and wish us well. It was a fine send-off from one of the rich experiences of this adventure. 

For our final restaurant meal, we returned to one of our first fine restaurant meals–to Anise, just down the street from the Golden Gate Hotel where we spent our first days and nights in Phnom Penh.

Back at home, yet another heartfelt farewell from Boran who warmly shook our hands and mustered his best English to “wish [us] happy happy.” 

We could only reply, “You, too”
and head for one last sleep 
as M&M in Phnom Penh