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I woke up feeling soggy; sort of like after a long walk in the summer time, when the air hasn’t moved at all, it’s sort of heavy and you’re just starting to sweat; clothes a little damp, face somewhat greasy. Yeah. That’s how I felt. I’ve been sleeping with my A/C off because I think the filter is about 10 years old or something…I end up feeling like I have a serious respiratory infection when I wake up in the morning after having slept with it on all night. It also gives me this false sense of being cold—but then I walk out of my bedroom and start melting again, so what’s the point really? In the end I’m going to be hot, let’s just get used to it and move along. Except at work, of course. I will not give back the A/C rights there—I’ve become 150% more productive since it was installed 2 weeks ago.
ANYWAY, not only did I wake up with that soggy, sluggish, sloppy feeling, but I was stressed, never a good way to start the day. What better way to get over that feeling than procrastinate. Right. So, after a nice cold bucket bath, I hopped on my bike to make my way to the one internet phone in town, and then straight to the office, yes, indeed. But as usual, the power was out and they didn’t have a generator, so no luck to talk to my man today. Humf. I called him anyway on my cell phone (like $10/minute) but you know when you’ve built up the excitement for something and just don’t want to let it go? Yeah, it’s the little things like that that make my days here, so I called him anyway and woke him up (sorry). Just enough though to make me smile for the day and considerably lift my mood. Although my mood was improving already as I had been flagged down by a colleague who was sitting at the favorite coffee shop in town, on my way to the internet phone; I couldn’t refuse since I hadn’t had my coffee yet and so I was happy to stop. Plus, I really love just sitting in the open-air coffee place shootin’ the shit with the guys from the office (I’m one of 4 women in the whole place). We all order the typical: Iced Vietnamese coffee (extra dark) with sweetened condensed milk. It’s really quite good and my favorite way to have it here. We chatted for a good 2 hours about a variety of topic that interest the guys I work with/know here: whether or not I think my boyfriend has another girlfriend on the side since we’ve been apart for 2 months already and he isn’t coming here until July (‘you know, it’s like that sometimes in Cambodia…’), what the agriculture outputs are for different states in America, if Alaskans speak a different language, drinking beer vs. drinking wine, the Chinatown phenomena, Cambodian lack of interest in latrines, the boxing (read: kick-boxing, take-no-prisoners-style, ouch) tournament that’s been in town for the last week and American football vs. rugby vs. soccer…really good stuff. Made me also feel like all was good and right in the world. More procrastination.
We’re planning a big workshop in a few weeks and some folks from Phnom Penh are coming to town, so I went to check out my friend’s parents guest house—Apsara Guest House in Svay Rieng town, definitely a good place if you ever find yourself in town and I’m not around. $10 for an A/C room, $5 for a fan…clean, super friendly with a lovely little terrace. Anyway, this is the same friend of the wedding report a few weeks earlier and the picture albums and DVDs (yes, several of each) were in and I realized quickly how little of the whole sha-bang I participated in. For two days straight this poor woman and her fiancé were covered in silk, gold and sweat. Yes, they looked like they were having fun for a little while, but most of the time the looks on their faces were strained and seemingly screaming “let us out! We want jeans, t-shirts and cake in our room! No more pictures and no more bowing at our parents’ feet! (this happens a lot during the DVD…)”. But we looked through the albums, watched the DVDs and it was good. Then her mom invited me for lunch—which I must say was fantastic because my friend’s husband made it! Apparently he cooks for her and her family a few times a week…this is not the norm. No, not at all, but props to this man; clearly the ladies do love him. He made a solid chicken soup, with lotus flower stems, other greens, pineapples (it worked!) and tomatoes. Rice of course, and a sort of grilled, candied pork skin meat, sliced thin. Fresh mangos for dessert, nice and sweet.
Thoroughly full, I thought why spoil this nice day by going to the office (plus the electricity is probably still out…). So, naturally, as a true daughter of Judy, I decided to go shopping. Although not clothes shopping, but house shopping. With Matt coming soon, my sister planning her trip here and others promising visits (I hope) I figured it was time to get the house a little more comfortable and feeling like home. This considerably lifted my spirits and has indeed made me feel more at home, but of course I never made it to the office.
Anyway, long story short is that sheets are damn expensive here. It reminded me of my US-sheet-buying-experience: I really almost fell over in the US when I finally stopped stealing old sheets from my parents and decided to buy my own (ok, this was only last year, but hey)—I thought Ikea, Target and the like would give me nice cheap sheets in the $15 range for the set. Oh, no, not even at these discount places—upwards of $30 and more?! I never realized that bedding could be so expensive. It’s just cotton, right? I settled for the cheapest variety at Ikea that did feel a little like sandpaper, but I got the set for $20. So, I was not as surprised as I should have been when I went to buy sheets in the market here in Svay Rieng and the woman started at $36 for two sets?! OMG!? What is this, I’m in CAMBODIA! How can sheets still be so expensive? I will fully admit it; I’m a cheapskate when it comes to stuff like this. I bargained and bargained (and all you who lived with me in Cameroon know I’m a fast talker and hard bargainer) and this woman barely budged. In Cambodia this is when the price is actually the going price, as opposed to Cameroon where you have to walk away, come back, make a lot of hissing noises and teeth sucking, play angry, etc. and then the price starts to go down (this can take close to an hour). Anyway, Cambodia is considerably easier; they’re very honest people in the market, no poker faces. Ok, back to the sheets—I really must have looked peeved because she turned to her friend who also said, ‘yeah lady, this is it, the real price; you want the cotton ones, you gotta’ pay for it’. And I did want the cotton ones. The friendly business woman offered me an alternative: if I didn’t want to pay the high-roller price, I could buy, no joke, hot pink nylon-polyester blend, $5 for a set. Hmmm, that didn’t take long. I’ll take the cotton high-grade variety please. I walked away feeling a little lame, but I got cotton sheets at least. Come to visit and you’ll see the lovely designs (think white doves and deep red hearts) and interesting narrative that covers them (‘love forever’). Well, at least I also made off with a good deal on a free-standing Vietnamese hammock I bargained in there! Sweet, this thing is the best—I didn’t want to get out of it once I set it up. I stayed in it for a few hours on the porch after it rained, it was almost cool.
But that wasn’t the end of my shopping spree. Nope. I of course needed cat food (read: sardines in fancy tomato sauce, yeah it’s spoiled) and came upon the jewelry row. Dangerous. Especially since the Cambodians don’t mess around with jewelry. It’s gold. Beautiful handmade gold. Hmmm. Not too expensive. Yeah, so I bought a pair of small hoops with a filigree ball delicately hanging from the middle. Time to head home. Except I have to pass the 4 furniture makers in town to get home. I just wanted to check out how much a desk and a wardrobe might be. The first place was giving serious mark-up for the barang…so I moved on to the next spot. Here I found just what I wanted (and wasn’t looking for, of course)—a Cambodian raised, lounge table. One that all Cambodian families have—coffee table height, double bed size, beautifully carved around the base and good for lounging, sleeping, eating, relaxing…it raises you off the floor but doesn’t feel hot and sticky like your bed. Perfect. It was even stained the same color as my living room furniture. They started at a hefty price. I knew it wasn’t going to be cheap as I had done some homework on this piece. But I got ‘em down $10 and then picked up a half-sized wardrobe for the bedroom. And, it only cost $1 to have it all delivered and moved in! But for real, it was time to stop. I will say though, after having it all in place now, I feel like I’m home. Never made it in to the office because I was too busy finally getting settled in. Come visit!
Next Career?
Ok, so I've already chosen my next career, which will begin in approximately 4-5 years ;) Well, who knows, what what I want to know is how did this guy get such a sweet gig, check out his 'Frugal Traveler' article in the NYT every Wednesday:
http://travel2.nytimes.com/2006/05/24/travel/24frugal.html?th&emc=th...Man, I could show him a thing or two about truly frugal traveling. Anyway, if you have any ideas how I can transition into this gig let me know, I'm on the plane...
Phnom Penh wonders
So, I’ve finally taken the time to discover a bit of Phnom Penh, the wondrous capital, that seems to be both sleepy at times and quite happening at others. I came in for numerous meetings on Friday and then spent the rest of the weekend thinking I should be working, but just couldn’t seem to slow down long enough to start.
Friday night I discovered the VIP Sports Club. Yes, this is the Cambodian upper class retreat and sports center, which has pretty good facilities. A nice big pool, sauna, steam room, snack bar, tennis courts, boxing area and machines, weights and aerobics classes (with posters around the room reminiscent of the 80s aerobics craze/Olivia Newton John style and un-natural looking body-builder types). Anyway, I had a great swim and observed the local sports club culture…lots of young men, oogling girls in bathing suites, joking around, dunking each other; families with the kids with water wings; and the older men walking around in towels settling in to the sauna. What better way to end a productive exercise routine then to hop on a moto and meet a friend for burritos and margaritas! Guacamole, sour cream, cheese, it was all there and I was sitting on the riverfront in Phnom Penh. Crazy. Although, for my first burrito experience in SE Asia, I would say I’ve had better, but this was just right for the time and place. The riverfront was breezy, cool and the action was all over the street—young people hand in hand, kids running around screaming and an alarming amount of foreigners. Maybe I just haven’t spent enough time in PP, but every other person on the street was not Cambodian or Asian. Maybe it’s keen time to travel here? Not sure, but I enjoyed sipping the margarita and talking with my friend.
Saturday morning I rose with the rain. It started around 6am and I laid around in bed until about 7am thinking it might slow down. I dashed out of the hotel to find a spot to eat and found the most lovely little restaurant right next to the hotel where I always stay. It’s called Near and Far—I had the place almost to myself, but got the prime spot: a raised, large Cambodian style table that people sit on, with a mat and lots of pillows. A smaller table on it, in the middle to hold my coffee, crepe and fruit salad. Perfect. I lounged around there, waiting for the rain to die down and decided it wasn’t going to stop anytime soon, so I bolted for a tuk tuk and headed to the Russian Market.
I’ve now realized I won’t need to worry about stocking up on ANYTHING when I come home to visit. Thanks to the Gap, Old Navy and H&M sweat-shops running in Cambodia (ok, not thanks, I’m not endorsing the sweat-shops here, but sad to say this is where I shopped while living in the states and well, same stuff available in the market here). It’s plentiful, although the pants were a problem, they didn’t really have much for women larger than a size 4…so the tailor will help me with this. But tops, shoes (Puma, Adidas, Birkenstocks…these, I think are rip offs, but they’re good enough rip offs to me…). I didn’t go crazy in the clothes department, just checked-out the miles, upon miles, upon stacks of t-shirts, tank tops, polo shirts…and then decided it was too much to sort through at this time. I headed for the crafts and material. This was my weakness…lots of ‘antiques’ that looked like real antiques, unbelievable amounts of gorgeous richly colored textiles—all silk. Carved dark wooden pieces, pottery with deep colored gloss and whimsical Cambodian designs. I’m sort of glad my house is 2.5 hours away from here, as I would buy up a good amount of this stuff for my place, but I’m scared it would crack in transport. Anyway, I bought some good gifts and some material for myself to settle up with the tailor. It was a marathon day, but there was no way to do it in less than 3 hours. I still didn’t see the whole place.
After settling down in the food area for some noodles and a coke, I made my way home to drop my loot and headed to a usually expat crowded spa for a thai massage and pedicure. I figured it was cheap enough and well, it was time to get the sore muscles worked a bit. And that they did, a woman half my size, worked my arms, legs head, back for a good 2 hours—as I’ve said before, Thai massage is like contact yoga. It was great. Came out feeling relaxed and the muscles were all stretched out; the mind was at ease. I had dinner with a friend and some of his friends and then headed home where I crashed close to 11.
Sundays always end up feeling rushed, with a sense of urgency or worry about all the things that should have been done over the weekend, but you know you didn’t want to tackle, because, well, it was the weekend. Anyway, here I am, in my hotel room, procrastinating some more as I wait for the taxi to pick me up to return home.
Hot Dogs and French Fries
Last night was a hot dogs, french fries and a coke kind of night; tonight was a
giant burger night (you know those nights growing up when you knew you were
getting the worst of your Mom’s Betty Crocker cookbook recipes? Giant burger is
the worst of the worst. Really). The first (hot dogs, french fries and coke) being
one of great joy, elation possibly, almost like a reward for doing something good,
finishing something big on time, it’s off your shoulders/mind/plate…you’re feeling
home free. The later? Well, it’s been one of those days where nothing seems to go
right and you’re backed up against the wall and then to top it all off, you can’t even
take pleasure in the dinner planned or divert your mind to an enjoyable eating
experience once in the calm and safety of your own home (maybe there’s a warped
food relationship here, but we’ve all got issues). But nope, this day, it just follows you
all the way to the dinner table and then after dinner the only thing you think you’re
capable of is settling in for a nice mindless, but funny TV show, one that will take
your mind off of everything (you know, like Law and Order, Sex and the City,
Seinfeld and the like); but the only thing showing is something like the Nanny
or reruns of Doogie Houser, MD or the worst of all, a long run movie like Back to
the Future II. Then there is really no escape from the crappiness of your day.
Well, I’m not saying I had a total ‘giant burger day’ but the other day was so nice…
we actually got some things done, someone came back with the right answer.
The sun was out but it was still somewhat overcast, there was a nice breeze in
the air, I didn’t melt from the heat when I walked outside or have a constant row
of sweat beads lining my upper lip…things just felt good. So, what left to do but
finish it off with the perfect celebration meal that kids from PA to Cali know means,
yeah! It’s all good, mom and dad are in a good mood, it’s almost the weekend, they’re
letting us drink Coke, let’s jump on the beds and slide down the stairs in sleeping bags!
That’s what yesterday felt like, so naturally, I had to find the equivalent of good ‘ole
American celebration food: hot dogs and french fries and the market delivered. Nice,
fresh, worm-free red skin potatoes and a variety of sausage links—homemade, all my
choice just dangling in sets of four from the market rafters. Perfect. Even a nice mini-Cambodian-style baguette to stand in for a bun. I even had mustard in my fridge thanks
to the previous tenant who left me some western goods (and if you know me, you know mustard is an important condiment to have). The guard and I ate well and we were
happy. We smiled, we laughed and he shared with me the Khmer words for the American
feast we were partaking in…although, he was really confused by the mustard and why
I would want that on the ‘dog. So after my enjoyment yesterday, I thought it might
continue in the next day, but no, I walked in the office and it started hitting the fan and
didn’t quite stop. Everything kind of got ‘piled on’, where you’re desperately trying to
pull yourself out from under it all, but whatever you do you just keep getting buried
deeper, sort of like quick sand. And then, to top it off, you come home and have to deal
with something equivalent to giant burger which makes the whole day just seem like a
waste. ON A BRIGHTER NOTE: I did get to commiserate with a friend a bit, who helped
me process some of this crappiness (but he couldn’t do anything about the giant burger
thing—you can only expect so much when the day went as it did…).
But don’t feel sorry for me. I’ve made my bed and I’m sure enough sleeping in it, but
man, I just wish things had looked up a bit and ended with pizza or something. Next time.
Drought? Let's Hope Not...
The Royal Ploughing Ceremony got underway and showed some disheartening predictions:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/go/em/fr/-/2/hi/asia-pacific/4986680.stmWe only hope that the predictions are off this year (although last year they were apparently spot on). I sadly missed the ceremony, working hard here in the province, but got the news from a text message from a friend as he watched...anyway, a lot of people just took the rest of the week off for the King's birthday which was over the weekend and through Monday and then for the Ploughing Ceremony. Heading to the big city tomorrow night to stock up on milk and other things. More blogging coming soon...
HperMart and Dinner with Friends
Since my Cambodian Visa was still an issue and two times prior going through the Vietnamese border didn’t fix this problem, I thought I would try again today, right? 3rd time’s a charm?—I was hoping my luck would lead me since I was holding a coveted ‘blue letter’ from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs…if this didn’t work, nothin’ would. I breezed through to Vietnam, had the requisite iced coffee, 15 minute stay over and made my way back through to Cambodia to give it all a shot at the border again. Ahhh, but first, what was this curious huge blue building called the “HyperMart Duty Free” partially hidden by the new Vietnamese immigration office? Hmmm, I could only imagine, so of course I needed to check it out. Well, it turns out I’ve got a Costco less than 45Km away from me. Truly, they had Kirkland brand stuff, Target brand clothes—actually the exact black pants I bought for work a few months ago, sure enough, right there, my size even…for a 3rd of the price. Strange. All of the junk food comforts of home in super size (!) just like Costco: Doritos, Corona bottles in a case, Motts Apple Juice, Zest soap…it was too much, I almost felt like I was at home, except I was surrounded by Vietnamese people and the only one staring longingly at the Doritos. Don’t forget all of the standard duty free items that were also stockpiled: liquor, cigarettes, chocolate. The place even had microwaves, toaster ovens, blenders etc and a huge restaurant, but no hotdogs or pizza, it’s standard Vietnamese fare only; fine with me. Anyway, was just a really weird thing to discover in this corner of the world where everything seems so foreign, except now the border has Target clothes and Kirkland brand products--it’s like I wanted to run in the other direction because it just didn’t fit into the picture. So I figured, I knew this scenario in another world, why not blow a little Vietnamese Dong here and get some TP, other paper products and some requisite junk food: I crumbled for the small bag of Doritos, which tasted the same. Didn’t need ‘em. Although my friend who brought me to the border on his motorcycle was so impressed (nothing quite like it in Cambodia, especially to find it around Svay Rieng) he asked me to take his picture in front of the place. Yes, important and prestigious.
How could I top that for a Sunday you might ask? Well, I got to eat some darn good Khmer food at the moto friend’s fiancée’s parent’s house (got that?) that evening. She cooked up some really good food and interesting too—remember the frogs? Well, they were here tonight and cooked up on the grill. Aside from the odd presentation: completely flattened, but otherwise in-tact (resembling the just-run-over-by-a-car squashed variety) I felt a bit bad gnawing at its legs to get some meat. But it was darn good meat—as they all say: a little bit like chicken… but just enough, not too much. Of course, Pork was the other white meat on the menu, which was good but it was hard to stomach some of the innards this time for some reason. I won’t go into details as some of you may have weaker stomachs than others, but let’s say there was nothing left to the imagination or of the poor pig, inside and out. I ate a lot but went light on the innards and the silhouette of the poor frog on the road soon passed as I continued to enjoy the smoked sweetness of the full frog, yes indeed. Good food, lots of rice, as is the standard. Since my two friends are getting married and having their engagement party on Saturday, this was one last time for their parents to get together to plan for Saturday, so a special time to celebrate and eat like there’s not tomorrow...
Weddings...
So, you thought your wedding was a logistical nightmare? Maybe you were exhausted by greeting 180 or so guests and couldn’t wait to take off that heavy, uncomfortable dress? And, just couldn’t find a moment to steal a snack from the buffet or another kiss from your newly wedded partner as your guests dined on 3 courses? Well, you didn’t have it that bad, after all, your wedding, or the one you attended most recently, probably wasn’t in Cambodia. I tell you people, this wedding of a colleague’s that I attended tonight was, well, really nice and easy for me…but for the poor bride and groom and their families? Let’s say they’ll need a few weeks to recover. Imagine setting up two days before the actual party (ok so this is pretty standard but it’s all you, your family and close peeps), but your setting up into the street over about 4 blocks in one direction and 3 blocks in the opposite direction (block party!), leaving only about a two-foot-wide path for cars/trucks/motos/bikes/small children walking/horse-drawn carts etc. to get past. Then, how to start cooking? Preparing for a 1000 of your closest friends and family? Really. Coming from Phnom Penh, three other provinces in Cambodia, special invitees (Director of the Hospital, Director of the Public Health Dept, Police Chief etc.)…yes, this takes then an additional 8 blocks closed off, plus the payment and payoff of the local police to help guard the whole mess and you know, keep things in order without incident for people to gossip about (plus you’ve got to guard all the mad amounts of gold flashing everywhere…).
Cooking ensues for the night prior and day of (most of the time by 45 hired locals from the next town over), tents of orange and fuscia, with satin cloth wrapped around the poles are erected into the street—tables, chairs covered in traditional Khmer silk patterns, family-style turnstiles on the tables (similar to the Chinese restaurant style)…16 huge speakers stacked on top of each other, stage, mics etc. Then the big evening comes and you’re greeting 1000 people, have to change clothes 10 times (really, the bride told me she had 10 outfits she had to wear throughout the 4-11pm event). These outfits are seriously down to business, not your run-of-the-mill bridal wear, no, these are silk, traditionally wrapped skirts, gold belts, gold ankle cuffs, heals, sequined adorned and embroidered tops, several gold wrist cuffs, serious earrings, necklaces, hair-up-to-there, gold and diamond crown, sequined sash and pieces of silk folded specially and tucked into the belt to hang a certain way…no joke, this takes more than a 10min. switch-a-roo (and this is only the bride I tell you…the groom has got it easy, change of jacket/shirt/flower on the lapel, that’s it). Anyway, enough to make me want to run far away (but they have to stand at the entrance until just about all 1000 people have come through!) We, the guests, are the lucky ones (Although the ‘cards’ that are expected as gifts, also expect a ‘gift’ of at least $20US per couple or guest, the bride and groom are actually the lucky ones here…). We’re received at the grand, flowered entrance way by the lovely couple, picture-taking begins, including video and interview style and then we’re greeted by the wedding party and are given a lovely jasmine ring of flowers, which is one of my favorite scents, it’s almost like instant, low impact perfume. perfect. Then we sit down immediately to await the food (which will only be served once you have all 9 people at your table completely seated). Once we have the magic number, beers are cracked open (along with the ‘weak’ drinks of water and soda, as I’m informed by my table-mates), several rounds of ‘cheers!’ clanking of the glasses and shouts for more ice are heard from every table.
Quick Cambodian Fact: Beer is not proper without two huge hunks of ice floating in it at all times.
Since I’m the token foreigner in the party, everyone wants to share their beer with me, ‘cheers’ with me and all the rest. It’s a bit tiring and soon I have to pretend to be drinking my beer after each raucous clank!
--as we haven’t eaten yet, I’m a bit dehydrated from wearing this seriously heavy silk full-length skirt and we’re packed in like sardines and I’ll be under the table before the food comes (as many of you know my tolerance level). Ha, but I’m not alone! My new friends at the table I’m finding drink like mad and get pretty drunk pretty fast, so soon, I don’t even have to worry, these two insistent men at the table trying to get me to go head-to-head in drinking of the Angkor beer are almost over the top and don’t realize I’m ‘cheering’ them with my 7Up. Good escape.
So, the food begins to arrive—5 types of deep fried appetizers: shrimp, pork egg rolls, fish, fish balls, pork, pork rinds (you know the special Chinese restaurant variety in white and pink colors, like puffed up wafers resembling Styrofoam?), plus pickled shallots, roasted cashews and dried, shredded and pounded fish. Yummy stuff. Next courses include, one-by-one: more fried fish, then grilled beef, pork, then seafood noodle green papaya/mango/cabbage salad, then a HUGE steamed fish, Thom Yum Seafood Soup—served in a bundt-pan type sterno warmer/boiler that’s already bubbling as it is placed on the table, then the fried rice and white rice and more if we wanted! Final course—Wrigley’s Spearmint Gum packs and big boxes of raisons for everyone to take home. Man, it was an eating frenzy. Then the bride’s father continues to make the rounds toasting more beer, bringing over bottles of Johnny Walker to special tables (the bottles are gone in minutes)…my table-mates and I are done for; we’re full, bloated, a bit drunk, sweating like mad—still packed like sardines, still 90degrees with 90% humidity and still in full length heavy silk skirts. Every part of my body was sweating. We slip out from our table finally and make our way to the big heart box waiting for our card ‘gifts’. I asked a friend if I could give some nice bowls I bought in Vietnam to the bride and groom instead of giving money (I hate just giving money for weddings…)—anyway, I got a funny look and was told that’s just not cool. Ok, so I slipped ‘em my cash.
As we were walking towards the door ready to call it a night, we noticed some colleagues trying to call us over to their table. Happily we joined them, but then, the clanking and toasting and more beer with ice followed—actually forced upon us (lovingly of course ;) before we headed out. Just as we were really ready to leave this time, the bride caught us—she was clearly upset we hadn’t made it to the dance floor, so as good guests, we headed back for a round on the dance floor, her leading me step-by-step, by hand…I looked pretty silly trying to attempt traditional Khmer dancing, but I gave it a shot. Everyone got a good laugh but that’s cool, most people were pretty tipsy at the point anyway! After two songs, the bride felt for us and ushered us to the exit and onto our motos, waving us good-bye and with thanks. I know the girl musta’ been thinking, thank God, push the rest of these folks out now too! I know I woulda’ been…
