I've been back in the 'Penh for a couple weeks now, and people keep asking me what I notice about changes in the city since I moved away in 2015. It's evident that the city continues to develop rapidly, especially on my end of town.
I asked my former housemate Michaela if she'd ever returned to our old house to visit the landlords, who used to live right behind us. "I went by, but they're gone," she replied. "Now there's a fancy salon! I can't even tell if it's the same building."
So I stopped by this week to see for myself. It was indeed the same building, but extensively remodeled. No more gate. No more topless goddess bas-relief by the front door. No more chandelier. No more tile. No more party lights. *gasp!*
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| Before |
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| After |
I told the staff that I had lived there for five years, and they were happy to let me look around. They seemed surprised that I'd rented it, and commented, "It was so old!" It wasn't really, maybe 20-25 years, but it was poorly maintained.
Back in the day, this neighborhood - Toul Kork - was way out in the boonies, filled with dirt roads, fields, and a few brothels. Friends were telling me this week that in 2000, they thought Logos administrators were insane for renting out here. But it took off, becoming home to many "Khmer Riche" and dubbed Phnom Penh's Beverly Hills.
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| On the right |
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| Straight ahead |
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| On the left |
In Cambodia, landlords can't raise the rent if the tenants don't change. Logos teachers continuously occupied this house from the early 2000s to 2015, under the same contract. So by the time I arrived in 2010, let alone left in 2015, the rent was absurdly low for the neighborhood. No wonder the landlords weren't motivated to fix the window screens, the toilets, the leaky roof, the mold, the lights, or the doors that wouldn't latch.
We took it upon ourselves to hire a repairman from time to time, but the five of us were never sure how long we were staying, so we likewise lacked motivation for extensive repairs. It had great security, a convenient location, and consistent electricity; we could live with the issues. It took me a while to realize that some of the issues really weren't par for the course. Our house helper, who was by no means wealthy, told us she had a better roof and fewer rodents than we did.
A couple years before we left, the landlords got an offer. Someone down the street wanted to buy the property, raze it, and build a bigger, fancier place for a relative. Not surprising. We almost had to move that year, but the deal never went through. When we left, we figured the house wouldn't stay the same for long. But it never occurred to me that it wouldn't remain a residence.
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| Upstairs |
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| Upstairs |
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| Michaela's old room |
As I meandered through the downstairs, it was surreal trying to picture my kitchen and living room. The stairs helped orient me, and upstairs was largely untouched since they weren't yet using it. However, they'd installed dark wood floors and repainted everything. Now it would be perfect for the black and white party we once hosted! My door was locked, but Michaela's bedroom clearly hadn't been renovated at all. So many memories flooded back.
Shame, when the motodop drivers dropped me off and commented, "Wow, so big! How many people live there?" and I had to answer, "Just five."
Frustration, when the landlords' dog bit my friends and snuck in our unlatchable front door to strew garbage across the floor.
Disgust, when rinsing shrew droppings out of the baking pan yet again.
But mostly peace and joy.
Despite the house's quirks and drawbacks, it was a haven. Each of my eight housemates over the years came to be precious to me. A lot of music, prayer, and laughter took place there. We welcomed visitors for rich conversations. It was our home.
Seeing what's become of my old house left me nostalgic, but not sad. I'm delighted now to be in an apartment with functioning outlets, fewer critters, and far less space to clean. I like living in a more middle-class neighborhood. In some ways, it's a relief having just one roommate and no house helper. Michaela's my only remaining in-country housemate anyway, and she and her husband live near my new apartment. I can already sense this apartment, like that house, becoming a refuge for me.
And who knows? I might even go "home" for my next haircut.
