8.31.2008
I am, as my family would say, very sapbai, happy. I am just now home after a long ride from Phnom Penh and my Kampuchea Adventure, or, as some like to call it, the KA. Once again, Peace Corps has found a way to easily insert acronyms into everyday life. But, I will start at the beginning. Actually, before the beginning.
Last Friday, I was packed for my KA (I like to be cool so I use the acronyms too) and went to a morning language class. I went to see the bread lady who happens to make sandwiches, as usual. Note about Cambodia…since there is an abundance of people who sell the same sort of thing, such as bread, or snacks, or shampoo, or waffles, you customarily pick one person that you like and that won’t overcharge you and go there every time. This, my bread lady, sells me bread for only 500 riel, or…about 15 cents. Her sandwich is only 1000 riel, a solid quarter. One this particular day, though, there happened to be a few boys (by boy I mean 20-25 year olds) near the stand, and since they saw the hot commodity of a foreigner, they went into a different mode. It was a girl hunting mode (that I barely understand…I mean, I have lost 12 pounds, but…). So, between them, and the old man holding the baby that I ended up holding as well, and the woman who owns the shop and the baby, I was questioned and I answered…
“I’m sorry, but no, I do not have money to give to you. Not that I would give you money even if I did have it” (I wish I had the Khmer to say that last phrase, but alas)…
“No, I do not have a boyfriend, a sweetheart, or a husband.”
“No, I do not want a boyfriend, a sweetheart, or a husband.”
“No, I do not need a boyfriend, a sweetheart, or you for a husband.”
“I’m sorry…but I have to teach, so you cannot be my husband.”
It was quite an adventure, and a very pleasant way to begin the morning. I was pretty pleased that I have the Khmer vocabulary words of need, and want, and have – they’re amazingly useful, especially when talking about money and men and any combination of the aforementioned topics.
But now on to the real adventure. The Kampuchea Adventure. By the way, no one says that better, with a more entertaining smile, than that of Dara, the head of language instruction and the guy that keeps testing us on our Khmer skills.
On Friday night we headed out, 6 barangs in our own taxi towards the city. It isn’t a far ride, 40 kilos or so, and we were lucky enough to see some of our comrades from another district as we drove into the Mekong section of town. Quite a stroke of luck given the size of the town. We grabbed a few tuk-tuks and headed to the Okay Guesthouse, which I recommend to anyone planning on a vaca around here. $7 a night will get you a room with two beds and a fan, $12 for some AC, and $2 for dorm style beds in another building. They serve great fruit shakes and are well known throughout the PC community, mainly because it is a cheap place very close to the Peace Corps Office.
We were hungry, and therefore went more only one person to the city, while the other districts are averaging 2 to 6 people sent than briskly to a close American style restaurant graciously led by one of the recent ‘sickies,’ or those who are ill enough that they need to go to Phnom Penh for a few days of rest and observation by the PCMO. I am proud to say that my village has sent up. Our restaurant, Freebird (thanks Lynard) was pricey, as most expat places are, but worth every sent. We had onion rings, French fries with ketchup, and a big juicy burger with all the fixings. 2 Dr. Peppers (one was free because I was a girl and it was happy hour or something) completed the meal that we enjoyed in a private room in the back while watching the movie Dodgeball on a big flatscreen TV. Talk about surreal.
But on to day 2. My partner and I woke up fairly early, enjoyed some American-style eggs in the Okay lounge, and went over to a market to catch a taxi (by taxi I mean a large van) to head over to our site, which is known as the Ompe Phnom Resort Town. After a little confusion about where the thing actually was, we ended up on the wrong end of a long entrance road with no way but walking to get to the other side. As PCT/PCVs, we are not allowed to ride on motos, which are the primary form of transportation in any town. We walked the long road, the obvious outsiders, and eventually reached the entrance. “Welcome to Ompe Phnom Resort.” We walked past a couple of guard-looking men who just looked at us with a curious stare, and then were almost immediately accosted by something of 5 to 7 women who wanted us to come to their stands for some food and relaxation. Being the necessarily frugal PCTs that we are, we said no thanks and walked to the bridge that we saw nearby.
This may have been my scariest moment of Peace Corps. This bridge, which cost 500 riel to get on, was a frightening mix of rotting wood and wire, and I called it (cordially of course, so not to upset it) the Bridge of Death. Underneath this bridge was a raging river (because what else would be under it!), and its unsteady boards and what seemed like mile long gaps made me hold on to the less-than-sturdy and less-than-comfortable wire for support. And I of course stopped for a photo.
After defying the Bridge of Death, we reached the other side, completely clueless as to what this town had to offer. We were once again accosted, but this time by a few older ladies who sold me some incense and tried to sell some lotus buds. Luckily, a banana selling woman took us under her wing and showed us the…wait for it…elephant! I was a foot away from an elephant and I touched its rough skin as he reached out his trunk for the bananas that I was offering (and ate them, peel and all). Then…another surprise – monkeys!!!! Cute ones, that reached up and grabbed bananas from me and expertly peeled them before they enjoyed. They were everywhere and I was amazingly happy with them.
We walked up and saw the temple, and I used my incense under the guidance of the temple keepers who dress in white and just sit and sing and pray. And as we walked down to see the community portion of the village, we ran into a party. In the ‘community temple,’ which is how I look at the pagoda complex, there was some meal taking place with a handful of important local people. I say important because they were wearing the white outfits and kroma scarves that resemble the temple keepers’ outfits. We showed the proper respect to Buddha by bowing thrice to the big shrine (with incense in hand) then trying not to burn ourselves as we put the smoking sticks into a big pot of sand with other burning sticks. This group of people was happy to watch, assist, and finally enjoy, as we sat and they offered us tea and water and plaiy tiap, which I hear is called a custard apple.
We sat and talked with these great people and they quizzed us on our work, our place of residence, and some other things that we may or may not have heard correctly. I think both of us were pretty amazing that we can almost communicate with people.
We took the long trek back to the main road and thought, “let’s go into the nearby Kampong Spue and look around.” Of course, we ended up going the wrong direction and looking for a guest house that didn’t exist, then accidentally (seriously) going back to Phnom Penh. We had a nice chat in the van on the way, though, with more locals who were very excited to figure out why there were foreigners in this very un-touristy place. Kampong Spue province doesn’t exist in the majority of guidebooks that I paged through in search of information about my KA. In retrospect, I’m almost certain that it is a place for locals and less directed at the somewhat booming tourist population, mainly because it is not beach, not mountains, not Phnom Penh, and not Angkor Wat. It’s off the beaten path, wherein lies its charm.
We were dropped in the middle of the central market by the impromptu driver that we hailed on the side of the road, a very surreptitious enterprise. Basically, you stand on the road, and when you see a bus and someone sticks their hand out to wave at you, they stop, and you haggle and get in. It makes things easy.
So, having been to Phnom Penh for a very limited amount of time, we have basically no clue where we are. But, we looked around and found – who knew? – a mall! A real life, I-must-be-in-America mall. 5 stories of concrete and clothing and a supermarket, of escalators and fried chicken and gelato, of shoes and jewelry and price tags, of rich folks and barangs and money, of a cinema with a scary movie showing and a roller rink and chocolate, and of my favorite thing…pizza. We sat down and had some delicious pizza-hut style pizza and it was the most delicious thing I’ve ever had (since the day before when the most delicious thing I had was onion rings and Dr. Pepper and a burger). It was so amazing. And just $4.00. I don’t know how I will return to the States with the thought that a $5.00 meal is almost ridiculously expensive.
We made our way back to the Okay and began to walk around the city, where we found the Independence Monument and a lawn full of soccer and badminton, a fountain and a park, and another supermarket which we surveyed. Peanut Butter is $6.00 for a large jar…which makes me sad considering that is about 5 meals at home or more. Certainly more, actually.
We returned back to the Okay very satisfied that evening – let’s face it: it is the simple pleasures that the Peace Corps volunteers value the most. Pizza, overhead fan, hot water…it’s a good day.
But there was even more the next day. We met some of our comrades for breakfast at another, still expensive, expat restaurant – some friends that were living the life of AC at the nearby Oasis because they were sick. I enjoyed some English Breakfast Tea, some eggs over medium and toast (with butter…!!!!) and went over to the Peace Corps Office to pick up some books and enjoy the AC of the Volunteer room. Peace Corps is good. Peace Corps gave me mail (thanks grandma!). A quick jaunt to the famous Russian Market and then a group of us headed to a
nother market to catch our taxi back home. But not before the car stopped at a ‘sin warehouse’ (our name, not theirs) to pick up heaven knows what for later consumption. All we saw was cases of beer and playing cards, so its hard to be sure. They filled up the back seat so full that the helper of the taxi (because every small company is run by a driver and an assistant) ended up on the roof for the duration of the trip. I think that this is not uncommon given that our taxi to Ompe Phnom had a similar status.
I did learn a few things about Phnom Penh, though.
For my salary, it is beyond expensive, and I’m sure that there will be a day where I will be so tired of it that I cannot face the thought of going. For now, it is nice, a good break at this stage of my life here, amid adjustment, but home is nice.
There are a ton of foreigners in Phnom Penh, both tourists and those who reside in the area, and I have found myself looking at them with a certain look of distaste, usually because I see far too much skin and it makes me cringe a bit. I cannot explain the feeling that I have about my fellow expats, but I’m feeling a little less American and a little more Khmer, and it is a strange transition.
My new favorite pastime is talking to the Phnom Penh natives in their own tongue. Moto and tuk-tuk drivers are particularly interested in offering me a high price to get somewhere, but my level headed, “no, thank you, I don’t need it,” makes them smile and start. Given the number of foreigners in the area, many of whom do not speak any Khmer, I am not surprised that my use of a few simple words shocks them, and I enjoy it immensely. The same was true in the market, when I bought a few things after bargaining in Khmer and the ladies (supposedly) gave me a better price because I spoke the language. I bought some bracelets for my sisters and paid $6 for 5, originally charged at $2 a piece.
Phnom Penh reminds me of the dollar store, because everything seems cheap, like a buck for a bracelet, of a buck for an ice cream, or a few dollars for some pizza, but it adds up and you end up spending more money than you planned on. Way too much. And since things are in dollars instead of riel, they seem so cheap!
But, at the same time, Phnom Penh is the double edged sword that we all love and love to hate. Expensive, but full of things that switch up our rice routine and give us some Americanism for a short while. You can’t help but like it a little.
I am, as my family would say, very sapbai, happy. I am just now home after a long ride from Phnom Penh and my Kampuchea Adventure, or, as some like to call it, the KA. Once again, Peace Corps has found a way to easily insert acronyms into everyday life. But, I will start at the beginning. Actually, before the beginning.
Last Friday, I was packed for my KA (I like to be cool so I use the acronyms too) and went to a morning language class. I went to see the bread lady who happens to make sandwiches, as usual. Note about Cambodia…since there is an abundance of people who sell the same sort of thing, such as bread, or snacks, or shampoo, or waffles, you customarily pick one person that you like and that won’t overcharge you and go there every time. This, my bread lady, sells me bread for only 500 riel, or…about 15 cents. Her sandwich is only 1000 riel, a solid quarter. One this particular day, though, there happened to be a few boys (by boy I mean 20-25 year olds) near the stand, and since they saw the hot commodity of a foreigner, they went into a different mode. It was a girl hunting mode (that I barely understand…I mean, I have lost 12 pounds, but…). So, between them, and the old man holding the baby that I ended up holding as well, and the woman who owns the shop and the baby, I was questioned and I answered…
“I’m sorry, but no, I do not have money to give to you. Not that I would give you money even if I did have it” (I wish I had the Khmer to say that last phrase, but alas)…
“No, I do not have a boyfriend, a sweetheart, or a husband.”
“No, I do not want a boyfriend, a sweetheart, or a husband.”
“No, I do not need a boyfriend, a sweetheart, or you for a husband.”
“I’m sorry…but I have to teach, so you cannot be my husband.”
It was quite an adventure, and a very pleasant way to begin the morning. I was pretty pleased that I have the Khmer vocabulary words of need, and want, and have – they’re amazingly useful, especially when talking about money and men and any combination of the aforementioned topics.
But now on to the real adventure. The Kampuchea Adventure. By the way, no one says that better, with a more entertaining smile, than that of Dara, the head of language instruction and the guy that keeps testing us on our Khmer skills.
On Friday night we headed out, 6 barangs in our own taxi towards the city. It isn’t a far ride, 40 kilos or so, and we were lucky enough to see some of our comrades from another district as we drove into the Mekong section of town. Quite a stroke of luck given the size of the town. We grabbed a few tuk-tuks and headed to the Okay Guesthouse, which I recommend to anyone planning on a vaca around here. $7 a night will get you a room with two beds and a fan, $12 for some AC, and $2 for dorm style beds in another building. They serve great fruit shakes and are well known throughout the PC community, mainly because it is a cheap place very close to the Peace Corps Office.
We were hungry, and therefore went more only one person to the city, while the other districts are averaging 2 to 6 people sent than briskly to a close American style restaurant graciously led by one of the recent ‘sickies,’ or those who are ill enough that they need to go to Phnom Penh for a few days of rest and observation by the PCMO. I am proud to say that my village has sent up. Our restaurant, Freebird (thanks Lynard) was pricey, as most expat places are, but worth every sent. We had onion rings, French fries with ketchup, and a big juicy burger with all the fixings. 2 Dr. Peppers (one was free because I was a girl and it was happy hour or something) completed the meal that we enjoyed in a private room in the back while watching the movie Dodgeball on a big flatscreen TV. Talk about surreal.
But on to day 2. My partner and I woke up fairly early, enjoyed some American-style eggs in the Okay lounge, and went over to a market to catch a taxi (by taxi I mean a large van) to head over to our site, which is known as the Ompe Phnom Resort Town. After a little confusion about where the thing actually was, we ended up on the wrong end of a long entrance road with no way but walking to get to the other side. As PCT/PCVs, we are not allowed to ride on motos, which are the primary form of transportation in any town. We walked the long road, the obvious outsiders, and eventually reached the entrance. “Welcome to Ompe Phnom Resort.” We walked past a couple of guard-looking men who just looked at us with a curious stare, and then were almost immediately accosted by something of 5 to 7 women who wanted us to come to their stands for some food and relaxation. Being the necessarily frugal PCTs that we are, we said no thanks and walked to the bridge that we saw nearby.
This may have been my scariest moment of Peace Corps. This bridge, which cost 500 riel to get on, was a frightening mix of rotting wood and wire, and I called it (cordially of course, so not to upset it) the Bridge of Death. Underneath this bridge was a raging river (because what else would be under it!), and its unsteady boards and what seemed like mile long gaps made me hold on to the less-than-sturdy and less-than-comfortable wire for support. And I of course stopped for a photo.
After defying the Bridge of Death, we reached the other side, completely clueless as to what this town had to offer. We were once again accosted, but this time by a few older ladies who sold me some incense and tried to sell some lotus buds. Luckily, a banana selling woman took us under her wing and showed us the…wait for it…elephant! I was a foot away from an elephant and I touched its rough skin as he reached out his trunk for the bananas that I was offering (and ate them, peel and all). Then…another surprise – monkeys!!!! Cute ones, that reached up and grabbed bananas from me and expertly peeled them before they enjoyed. They were everywhere and I was amazingly happy with them.
We walked up and saw the temple, and I used my incense under the guidance of the temple keepers who dress in white and just sit and sing and pray. And as we walked down to see the community portion of the village, we ran into a party. In the ‘community temple,’ which is how I look at the pagoda complex, there was some meal taking place with a handful of important local people. I say important because they were wearing the white outfits and kroma scarves that resemble the temple keepers’ outfits. We showed the proper respect to Buddha by bowing thrice to the big shrine (with incense in hand) then trying not to burn ourselves as we put the smoking sticks into a big pot of sand with other burning sticks. This group of people was happy to watch, assist, and finally enjoy, as we sat and they offered us tea and water and plaiy tiap, which I hear is called a custard apple.
We sat and talked with these great people and they quizzed us on our work, our place of residence, and some other things that we may or may not have heard correctly. I think both of us were pretty amazing that we can almost communicate with people.We took the long trek back to the main road and thought, “let’s go into the nearby Kampong Spue and look around.” Of course, we ended up going the wrong direction and looking for a guest house that didn’t exist, then accidentally (seriously) going back to Phnom Penh. We had a nice chat in the van on the way, though, with more locals who were very excited to figure out why there were foreigners in this very un-touristy place. Kampong Spue province doesn’t exist in the majority of guidebooks that I paged through in search of information about my KA. In retrospect, I’m almost certain that it is a place for locals and less directed at the somewhat booming tourist population, mainly because it is not beach, not mountains, not Phnom Penh, and not Angkor Wat. It’s off the beaten path, wherein lies its charm.
We were dropped in the middle of the central market by the impromptu driver that we hailed on the side of the road, a very surreptitious enterprise. Basically, you stand on the road, and when you see a bus and someone sticks their hand out to wave at you, they stop, and you haggle and get in. It makes things easy.
So, having been to Phnom Penh for a very limited amount of time, we have basically no clue where we are. But, we looked around and found – who knew? – a mall! A real life, I-must-be-in-America mall. 5 stories of concrete and clothing and a supermarket, of escalators and fried chicken and gelato, of shoes and jewelry and price tags, of rich folks and barangs and money, of a cinema with a scary movie showing and a roller rink and chocolate, and of my favorite thing…pizza. We sat down and had some delicious pizza-hut style pizza and it was the most delicious thing I’ve ever had (since the day before when the most delicious thing I had was onion rings and Dr. Pepper and a burger). It was so amazing. And just $4.00. I don’t know how I will return to the States with the thought that a $5.00 meal is almost ridiculously expensive.
We made our way back to the Okay and began to walk around the city, where we found the Independence Monument and a lawn full of soccer and badminton, a fountain and a park, and another supermarket which we surveyed. Peanut Butter is $6.00 for a large jar…which makes me sad considering that is about 5 meals at home or more. Certainly more, actually.
We returned back to the Okay very satisfied that evening – let’s face it: it is the simple pleasures that the Peace Corps volunteers value the most. Pizza, overhead fan, hot water…it’s a good day.
But there was even more the next day. We met some of our comrades for breakfast at another, still expensive, expat restaurant – some friends that were living the life of AC at the nearby Oasis because they were sick. I enjoyed some English Breakfast Tea, some eggs over medium and toast (with butter…!!!!) and went over to the Peace Corps Office to pick up some books and enjoy the AC of the Volunteer room. Peace Corps is good. Peace Corps gave me mail (thanks grandma!). A quick jaunt to the famous Russian Market and then a group of us headed to a
nother market to catch our taxi back home. But not before the car stopped at a ‘sin warehouse’ (our name, not theirs) to pick up heaven knows what for later consumption. All we saw was cases of beer and playing cards, so its hard to be sure. They filled up the back seat so full that the helper of the taxi (because every small company is run by a driver and an assistant) ended up on the roof for the duration of the trip. I think that this is not uncommon given that our taxi to Ompe Phnom had a similar status.I did learn a few things about Phnom Penh, though.
For my salary, it is beyond expensive, and I’m sure that there will be a day where I will be so tired of it that I cannot face the thought of going. For now, it is nice, a good break at this stage of my life here, amid adjustment, but home is nice.
There are a ton of foreigners in Phnom Penh, both tourists and those who reside in the area, and I have found myself looking at them with a certain look of distaste, usually because I see far too much skin and it makes me cringe a bit. I cannot explain the feeling that I have about my fellow expats, but I’m feeling a little less American and a little more Khmer, and it is a strange transition.
My new favorite pastime is talking to the Phnom Penh natives in their own tongue. Moto and tuk-tuk drivers are particularly interested in offering me a high price to get somewhere, but my level headed, “no, thank you, I don’t need it,” makes them smile and start. Given the number of foreigners in the area, many of whom do not speak any Khmer, I am not surprised that my use of a few simple words shocks them, and I enjoy it immensely. The same was true in the market, when I bought a few things after bargaining in Khmer and the ladies (supposedly) gave me a better price because I spoke the language. I bought some bracelets for my sisters and paid $6 for 5, originally charged at $2 a piece.
Phnom Penh reminds me of the dollar store, because everything seems cheap, like a buck for a bracelet, of a buck for an ice cream, or a few dollars for some pizza, but it adds up and you end up spending more money than you planned on. Way too much. And since things are in dollars instead of riel, they seem so cheap!
But, at the same time, Phnom Penh is the double edged sword that we all love and love to hate. Expensive, but full of things that switch up our rice routine and give us some Americanism for a short while. You can’t help but like it a little.
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