Nous y voici.
voici le moment où l'expérience est finie.
voici le moment ou soudainement tout ce qui s'est passé donne une impression d'irréel.
Le Cambodge était-il une parenthèse? quelque chose qu'on peut supprimer sans ôter du sens au reste?
j'ai posé mes valises dans l'appartement Parisien du 23 rue du temple. et comme dans un mausolée sacré, comme dans un écomusée, le temps paraît figé. Vestiges de repas, plantes fraîchement arrosées, vêtements rangés, quelques CD sortis, bureau en pagaille. On dirait que je suis juste partie pour acheter Libé, et c'est tout juste si je n'ai pas de la vaisselle sale qui attend dans l'évier.
momo et cathy ont pris soin des lieux.
pourtant je ne crois pas avoir rêvé.
Lundi j'ai dîné avec Eva dans le nouvel appartement loué par nos petits chouchous d'étudiants. nous nous prenions les mains pour nous dire adieu, moment rare mais si précieux. je leur avouais que j'étais un peu amoureuse d'eux tous et qu'ils m'avaient appris plus de choses qu'ils ne pouvaient croire. Eux me remerciaient pour les avoir traité en petits frères souvenirs à l'appui:
"thank you helou, i will always remember the day i was sick and you gave me medecines, and the day you told me: if you do it one more time, Will you sleep outside "...
and say it seems that I was strictly ...
Tuesday I organized my surprise party at Estelle before I leave. frenzied racing motorcycle in Phnom Penh, buy spring rolls Olympic market, to fill beer, bake the cakes in the MEP and change me by wearing the beautiful pink teddy bear pajamas that Sokka had offered to accommodate my guests.
I spent my last night on a mat in the arms of vanna, I've just spoken but that is a saleswoman Khmer.
Khmer Friendships are so soft. Stay overnight at my removed was a beautiful gift she gave me.
Wednesday I pack my bag quickly moved under the gaze of Sabrina. Father Franco was the last time I tighten the clamp, and I was the last time the bike to take Sabrina Psar Tauch at a meeting of ladies of the solidarity committee, to address a goddaughter found. Miracle I found the frog in the font that I presented. Sabrina is immediately embarked on his first visit home, alone. Ordinated the mission fell into his hands. Catch up before the lady who takes her last words we exchanged in a confusing jumble of words:
"Thank you, Good luck, good luck yes, thank you to you, good luck, yeah, bye, have fun you must fit well ... yeah, I'll go"
I go back to motodop office renews the heartbreaking farewell. I can not even really say goodbye to Eva, who is on the ground trying to pass his torch to Elodie. it's weird to go like this ... as an ingrate.
from Phnom Penh in the rain. I wanted to be alone to feel me out, do not miss this solemn moment when you close the door of a particular year, too.
In this departure, it is especially the guilt that I most tapped. no nostalgia for the past year, not the joy of returning home, not the anguish of finding the pace of Paris. Guilt.
All eyes say
"yes we love you, yes it was nice to work together and we started to do a good job and getting along ... but eventually you too am just passing . you stay long enough to adopt rules of your game, it acts in and you go away. "
So to those who ask me how I saw this back, apologizing to ask what they believe to be a platform issue, I say a little pensive, "I'm happy but I feel guilty."
At the airport, I slipped the last draw of "Cambodge Soir in my bag to keep a dated reference purpose.
few hours more and less later, I set foot in Paris.
I change ... or rather I sell out my dollars to a few euros.
I rush into a taxi ...
"sorry sir, I'm going to St. Lazare ... but ... uh ... you would not by chance Cambodian?"
I look back to Eva at the luncheon to Marmite, a French restaurant, where we invited Chanroeurn law student left alone in Phnom Penh during the holidays to pass the exams integrated the French section of the college.
"no, Chanroeurn, students who have family in France are not better than you. You know, they friment saying they have family in France, but their uncles are generally not ministers. in fact they are often taxi driver ... "
my taxi driver was in Cambodia the figure. he grumbles against bus lanes, traffic jams and unload trucks in the streets of Amsterdam as a good old Paris.
welcome in Paris. phlegm Cambodia is far more than a myth.
Rue St Lazare, I fell into the arms of the most beautiful, the most expensive, the most precious Grandpa.
what I missed it, the cow!
Grandpa has not changed.
I am happy to share my first breakfast, Paris with him, although I sort of insipid Lipton tea, and croissants Pasquiers out of a bag industry as a snack.
He has not changed. better.
The second taxi driver is also Cambodia. That leads me grandpa down the building and when he leaves the car, he died of laughter, because really, Cambodia is invited in this return to France.
bottom of my building that is Audrey, who is waiting to help me up my bags.
the day will be like that. cheers, hugs, cheers, hugs ...
In the street, finally, what is surprising is not wealth, it is not clean, or even being able to walk on a sidewalk, but many times I heard myself think, "that one is old in France "or" what it is like grandfathers in Paris "...
G20 at the supermarket, I had a great emotion in me losing the aisles to choose my meal home. and then I was a little disappointed too, because here, when you buy a pack of rolls of PQ, there was no spoon as a gift.
I also said that the misery of a city like Paris was finally almost harder than Phnom Penh or Kdolleu. At least Cambodia, the poor are not transparent to the way they are not "excluded" as here.
In fact it is very easy to Paris again. very easy to put boots, a scarf and a raincoat, dragging its Navigo pass on the terminals of Vélib ', and pay for her coffee 2 euros 40.
is a little too easy.
There. this blog is coming to an end and he just intended to give a conclusion to this year.
many times I said "oh that, I can not talk in the blog and this great idea got lost in the limbo of the action, many times I said" what pity I did not also have time to keep a journal, "but we never leave enough trace, it does not capture enough memories, and I know that soon, too soon, I will forget the precious things, starting with my Khmer if "pirou" if "fluent"
... maybe nobody will read this post since I came back.
But for the few diehards who will be eager to read me so far, for the few onlookers web who could follow the journey of initiation of a complete unknown, the time may be welcome to say that it was extraordinary leave, extraordinary experience this is Cambodia, but also make you special share.
