BioLab

Part of my routine consists of visiting a small co-working space by the name of BioLab. It's a cozy environment in which I read the news, draw, or work on things for TGC. I have now been coming to BioLab for seven months, and I've witnessed the establishment undergo a mountain of changes within a relatively short amount of time.  

One of the main walls used to be open, with only a few boards separating customers from the elements. Whenever it rained, everything (including customers) would receive a wet sloppy kiss from Mother Nature. I would sometimes see people frantically scrambling to move their laptops and meals before they met the Cambodian monsoon. All new chairs with cushions now stand in the place of the old unforgiving chairs, which would require you to get up and walk around if you were there for any more than an hour. 

The biggest change however was the staff. The entire staff, with the exception of maybe one person and the owner, has changed over twice. Whenever I come to BioLab I almost expect to see a new face, as it seems new staff members come and go on a regular basis. Like myself, there are quite a few other regulars of BioLab, that I usually see whenever I'm there. But they too, have changed.

A tall, thin woman who I presume is European and a slightly heavyset French guy were at BioLab virtually every single time I was during the early days. As of late, whenever I come in for dinner it is a ghost town. With no signs of my European friends. If anything it was a clear indication that I had been here longer than I normally feel I have been, but today something interesting happened. 

The French guy, the tall thin woman, and even a former staff member were all here at the same time. It felt like a little BioLab reunion, just as I'm approaching the final months. As I approach April, I am starting to appreciate things that once bothered or aggravated me. I left school this evening just as all the other schools were letting out, and I was caught in a massive traffic jam of little children, cars and motobikes. 

Instead of wanting to run down everyone in my path, I wanted the jam to last longer. I admired all the children in their white and blue school uniforms, walking conjointly through all the chaos. I laughed as I raced other motorists within inches of me through the ever-changing maze of people. And I took a moment to appreciate how all of this was unfolding in the orange glow of the Cambodian sunset. I cannot yet tell you what exactly I'll miss about Cambodia when I'm gone, but the free-for-all commutes will surely be on the list.