Phnom Penh, Cambodia
Over the last three days, Martin took me out into the Cambodian countryside to meet his family. It was the farthest off the tourist track I have ever ventured, and some of the most fun I’ve had traveling.
Poverty in Phnom Penh
First Martin took me to see his family. I’m always a bit wary to do this with people I’m in a professional relationship with, since it seems like the family is being treated a bit like a zoo. I was pretty shocked by the conditions Martin, his wife, and two children live in. He pointed to a wooden shanty town by the river, and said that was where he lived. He was worried about it, because the year before, some similar towns burned down. The fires were allegedly set by the government, which took several hours to dispatch fire trucks, in order to clear the area for a park. The former inhabitants were displaced to the outskirts of the city. Martin hopes that after the election, the government will build housing for them.
The conditions inside the town were appalling. Muddy streets strewn with garbage and stinking of rotting vegetables, flies everywhere, and naked children running around. Martin’s family was sitting on the porch of his one room wooden hut. They didn’t seem too excited to see me, which is not surprising. After all, they don’t know me, they don’t speak English, and I don’t speak Khmer. Martin complained that his family was “lazy.”
Martin also talked about his German friend, who took him and his wife to see Angkor Wat, paid for an operation for his daughter, and bought him a motorbike. Being the cynic I am, I always believe that’s what this sort of thing is about: trying to find a wealthy benefactor. I wish I could help, but I’m not rich like his German friend.
The Cambodian Countryside
Then we headed out of the city on Martin’s moto. Cambodia’s roads have to be experienced to be believed. They are merely bumpy dirt tracks. Huge clouds of dust are kicked up when another vehicle passes. Martin said that in two months the roads would be flooded and impassible due to the rains. Besides the appalling roads, I was amazed at how beautiful Cambodia is. There are rice fields and palm forests as far as the eye can see.
After two hours on the moto, we got to Martin’s village. Like all Cambodian towns it consist of houses on each side of the dirt road. Each house’s yard is fenced off, and the houses are made of palm wood and built on stilts. Another awkward reception from Martin’s mom. Then it was time to experience some village life. This is pretty easy if you are a man, and consists mostly of hanging out with the guys, drinking palm wine, while the women wait on you. Life’s a bit harder for the women, who are constantly cooking, cleaning, and taking care of the children. It’s not fair, but that seems to be how it is in most of the world. Apparently, the men do work when it comes time to plant and harvest the rice. There’s just not much for them to do now.
While doing shots of rice wine from a communal cup, the women served “pig.” The meat looked suspicious, so I asked what part of the pig. Martin explained it was pig ears and snouts, and forced me to eat them. They actually didn’t taste too bad, but I couldn’t deal with the chewy white cartilage in the ears. Yeah, I’m not sensitive to other cultures.
After too much rice wine, Martin took me on a tour of the village, and we attracted a huge crowd of children. Nobody spoke English, but everybody was happy to see me, probably the first Westerner many of them have seen. Martin could act as a translator. Everybody wanted to touch my strange nose, facial hair, and forearm hair. He said most of the people have never seen Angkor Wat, or been to Phnom Penh. A group of single moms with babies was excited to see me, and wanted to drink rice wine with me. If you want a wife, get yourself to rural Cambodia!
After it got dark, it was time to hang out with the guys and drink Bayon Beer. I developed a deep sympathy and affection for the people of Cambodia before passing out, which I don’t remember doing.
Four Weddings and a Funeral
I woke up to incredibly loud noises, in pitch darkness, and in pain. Soon I realized I was laying on the wooden floor of a hut, and it was 4 am. Cambodian music was blasting outside, roosters were crowing everywhere, a pig was snorting, and the cow downstairs was mooing very loudly. Rural Cambodia is a very noisy place!
I couldn’t sleep with the cacophony outside, so I laid on the floor until 6, which is when all Cambodians get up. Early to bed, early to rise, and an afternoon nap is the way of life in most of the world.
Martin showed me more of the village, and the pagoda, then back on the bike for the journey to his wife’s village. On the way we passed many pavilions set up in the road filled with people, and blasting music. Some of these were weddings, some were funerals, and were difficult for Martin to tell apart.
When we got to the village, one of these pavilions was set up, and I was invited inside for the wedding reception. Cambodians love loud music, so a wall of speakers was set up inside the tent, and was blasting Khmer music.
After beer and a Khmer lunch, we headed to his brother-in-law’s house, who Martin described as rich, due to his lumber business. The house was indeed nicer that what I saw earlier, featuring a patio, multiple rooms, and an indoor bathroom and kitchen. It was still very primitive, though. The family’s biggest sign of wealth was their landcruiser, which Martin said cost $11,000 dollars.
The guys invited me to watch Thai boxing on the battery powered TV. Soon the room was full of 30 guys excitedly watching the boxers kick, elbow, and knee each other. Punching is for sissies! It seems that wherever you go in Cambodia, you can’t escape from its past. One of the guys only had one arm, and another guy had what looked like whip scars on his back.
After the boxing, it was time for more hanging out and drinking rice wine. Another reason for all the hanging out is the extreme heat. Even just sitting around wearing only a krama, the scarves the guys wrap around themselves, like a short saron, is sweaty work. Martin said people take three showers a day. I did too, since it’s the only way to cool off. In rural Cambodia you take a shower by pouring cold water over yourself while wearing a krama.
Cambodian Dance Party
When it got dark we headed to the dancing porting of the wedding reception. The ceremony was very Western, and the bride and groom did all the same stuff they do back home, which was slightly disappointing. The main difference was the Cambodian dancing, which I was enthusiastic to attempt after drinking copious amounts of rice wine. The dancers walk in a circle, and move their arms and hands gracefully, like an Apsara dancer. I worked up quite a sweat, and I’m sure I embarrassed myself, but I can’t really remember. That seems to be the danger of rice wine. I can’t tell how drunk it’s making me, and I’ll get crazier and crazier until I just lose consciousness. Once again, I don’t remember going to sleep.
The next day I woke up on the floor of the patio. At least this time I got to sleep until 9. I had lunch with the family on the floor of the kitchen. Then we tried to communicate for awhile. One of the glaring omissions in my Rough Guide is that the language section does not have the phrases spelled in Khmer. Since I don’t know how to pronounce the phrases, and nobody could read English, this made the language section useless. So we mostly sat and stared at each other.
Then Martin took me around to more people who wanted to touch my nose and rub my cheeks, then we headed back to Phnom Penh. I was exhausted, and fell asleep for four hours. It was a good three days. After meeting so many nice people, Cambodia is right up there with Burma as one of my favorite countries. I’ll definitely be coming back here some day.
Cambodia photo gallery
