Hiatus

Dear Faithful Readers,

I regret to inform you that my blog writing will be on hiatus for the next two weeks, as my parents and sister arrive in Phnom Penh this evening. I assure you, however, that I will pepper the blog with amusing stories from our trips around Phnom Penh, to Siem Reap, to Bangkok, and to Koh Chang, when I return.

Best,
Steve

Monkey Business

Last weekend, prior to going to the village in Svay Rieng, we had a busy Phnom Penh Saturday. Shanti's friend Becky arrived at 3:00 in the morning the previous night (thanks to an awful - and awfully long - bus ride). After a delicious chocolate chip muffin breakfast, we set out on the town, first to check out paintings - Shanti bought one for her sister - and then to hang out at Wat Phnom.

Wat Phnom, which means "hill temple," is thought to be the sight of Phnom Penh's founding several hundred years ago. It is now largely a tourist attraction, not only because of the impressive and unique temple itself, but because of the wild monkeys that play in the surrounding park. On several occasions prior, I had visited Wat Phnom to enjoy watching the monkeys playing, eating, and, in many ways, acting incredibly human. The monkeys have, in the past wreaked some havoc, with the government of Cambodia putting a bounty of $250 out for a few "gang leader" monkeys (AFP article here).

After a few minutes of watching the primates play, Becky decided to get some food to feed them. While the monkeys are wild, they are by no means shy. Within a few minutes they were literally eating out of our hands. They sat by our feet eating pieces of a lotus, a green, triangular vegetable that can be peeled to reveal edible seeds. Once all of the food was gone, we continued to watch the monkeys. I noticed that some of them were drinking from a small ground-level tap. Though it wasn't switched on, there was a small puddle at its base. Thinking it would be entertaining to watch monkeys play in a running water, I stepped over to turn it on. As I reached down to do so, three monkeys, all within a few feet, bared their teeth at me, Shanti, and Becky. For some reason, they were either very protective of the tap or they were fiercely opposed to playing in the water. Teeth bared, they started chasing us! Granted, these were small monkeys, no more than ten or fifteen pounds, but they were quite menacing. We actually ran a little bit, much to the amusement of the Cambodians around us, to get out of their way. This is something I will definitely have to remember when I take my parents and sister up to Wat Phnom on their visit...

Svay Rieng, Phum Ampil

Several months ago, Shanti’s NGO brought a group of about twenty villagers affected by the Khmer Rouge to Phnom Penh to tour Toul Sleng (S-21) and Choeung Ek (The Killing Fields) as part of a social needs assessment and history dialogue. The trip was very much a cultural experience for the villagers as well; none had been to Phnom Penh before and had to be taught how to use flush toilets and light switches. Though I was unable to attend the tour of Toul Sleng or Choeung Ek, I did bring ice cream, which they had never had before, to their guesthouse. Not only did they love it, but the manner in which they ate it was quite adorable: squatting in the lobby of the guesthouse in a circle.

Anyways, this past Sunday, Shanti, Becky (Shanti’s friend from Tufts), and I decided to visit the villagers. It was my first village stay and Shanti’s first without the assistance of her co-worker as translator (no one in the village speaks English). We set off for a shared taxi near the Olympic Stadium and, upon arriving at the “depot” via tuk-tuk, were attacked by taxi drivers in a far more aggressive manner than ever before. Several of the drivers tried to take our bags out of our hands and place them in their cars. Very annoying. Once we selected a driver, however, we piled in to the mid-90s Toyota Camry. As is typical of shared taxis in Cambodia, the three of us shared the backseat with a fourth, and there were four in the front; unfortunately, the driver tends to share his seat with someone else.

Despite the potential hazards of our transport, we arrived at our “transfer” point within a few hours. The local organization that Shanti’s NGO partners with picked us up and we took a bumpy forty-five minute moto ride to Phum Ampil (Ampil Village). Upon arrival we were greeted by the head of the local organization and taken to our host family’s house for lunch. Everyone was thrilled to see Shanti; she clearly made a very positive impression on those that she interacted with on the trip to Phnom Penh and on her previous trip to the village. Some of the villagers remembered me as well, smiling and saying “karem” (ice cream).

A good chunk of the village, about forty people, was at the house for lunch and after formal hellos and introductions we were ushered inside. A huge feast of rice, chicken, duck, fish, and the ever-present rice wine awaited us. Even though it was only about 11:30, the rice wine – which has the taste of vodka but isn’t quite as strong – was flowing freely and it was quite difficult to turn a shot of the substance down. The food, though, was really good. In some ways, it felt like I was surrounded by Jewish mothers, as the food kept being piled onto my plate and I couldn’t refuse. At one point I was served a chicken foot, but I managed to avoid eating it…I don’t know how I could’ve gotten that down. After eating, I realized that I was sitting with all of the women and that the men were eating (and drinking) separately. So I got up and sat with the men. A few more shots of rice wine in my gullet and they were asking me about Shanti, if we were married, and if I had bought her a ring. It made for an entertaining, if not awkward conversation.

Following lunch, we wandered around the village, stopping by various houses to say hello. Invariably, we would be invited in and offered tea, food, and/or rice wine. For the most part, everyone asked the same questions: how are we, how are Shanti’s co-workers, when is Shanti’s co-worker going to have a baby (to which Shanti replied she was “thom thom” – very big – and due in two weeks), etc. The older members of the village were especially lovable, incredibly interested in what we had to say, and particularly inviting, both with their homes and with their food. It was easy to tell that they genuinely adored Shanti and would be eager to adopt her if given the chance.

As we went from house to house, we collected a following of children as well. A group of girls must have found some make up somewhere, because a handful of them (none older than ten) were all dolled up, with lipstick, eye shadow, and blush. At first, the kids were fairly shy, keeping ten or fifteen feet behind us as we walked, but gradually they got closer and closer until they were holding hands with us. They followed us into each house, eager to see what we had to talk about with the elders in the village. They loved looking at the pictures Shanti brought from her last visit and loved posing for pictures even more. The best part, though, was watching their reaction to being able to see themselves instantly on the back of the digital camera; they were elated!

After stops at five houses (rice wine at two, food at three), we went back to the host family’s house for dinner. The feast was almost as big as lunch. There was chicken, fish (which was actually quite good), duck, rice, vegetables, bananas, and lots of ambok, a special form of rice made during the harvest season. Oh, and there was lots of rice wine too. After drinking and eating, we sat around and chatted for a few hours. The villagers were really keen to learn English, which was somewhat surprising to me, but also endearing. They would say a word or phrase in Khmer and look at us inquisitively, “Anglais?” It was quite fun. Before retiring, we stargazed for a few minutes – the clarity of the sky was really impressive and the quantity of stars was quite humbling. Exhausted, both from the amount of food that we ate and from trying to understand all of the Khmer flying back and forth, we went upstairs into the house, where the three of us (Shanti, Becky, and I) curled up on a wooden bed frame. It wasn’t the most comfortable night’s rest I had, but it was well worth it.

We woke up early the next morning to do some more wandering. There was a beautiful sunrise and a very calm mistiness over the golden, freshly harvested rice fields. We said our farewell to as many as we could, stopping for tea and food at most houses. We were back at the host family’s house by a bit before seven for our compulsory breakfast of rice, fish, and bananas. Even at 7:00am, I was offered rice wine and, though I declined, I was in the minority by doing so. I never thought I would eat so much (or so well) out in the village. By 8:00 our mini-bus arrived, and we piled in the very cramped mini bus, which fit twenty-nine of us – it was meant for no more than eighteen – plus two on the roof (also common practice in Cambodia). The villagers were quite sad to see us go and it was a bit distressing to leave them. That said, it was great to have such a positive experience and to want so much to return. The trip was a taste of what life is really like in Cambodia – poor, but incredibly warm and hospitable – and a welcome change from the big city life of Phnom Penh.

The 2007 Volleyball World Cup

The same weekend as Water Festival, Phnom Penh also played host to the start of another "major" event: the 2007 Volleyball World Cup (official site). This wasn't your ever day volleyball tournament, or the kind of volleyball that ESPN2 features on occasion (although it probably should); this was the Volleyball World Cup organized by the World Organization of Volleyball for the Disabled. In other words, all athletes had some sort of physical disability. Interestingly, most disabilities for countries other than Cambodia were the result of birth defects, car accidents, or the like. However, the bulk of Cambodia's team suffered from landmine accidents (Cambodia remains one of the most heavily mined countries in the world).

The World Cup was the first international sporting event that Cambodia hosted since the 1960s. The week-long event took place at the somewhat archaic and very art-deco Olympic Stadium, which, as I have blogged about earlier, is also the locale of some serious line dancing. Six teams qualified for the tourney, including Cambodia, Canada, Germany, India, Poland, and Slovakia.

The first six days of the tournament were round-robin matches to determine rankings and the schedule for playoff matches. Unfortunately, Shanti and I couldn't make it to any of these preliminary games. After Cambodia beat India to earn a spot in the semi-finals against Slovakia, we couldn't stay away any longer. On Friday night, we made the short walk over to the Olympic Stadium to watch the match.

Though the indoor arena was crowded, it was by no means full, and we had no trouble finding somewhere to sit. The crowd was impressively noisy and enthusiastic for its size, probably no more than 1,500. We were sitting in a section in which large Cambodian flags were being waved and there was a large drum section, which continued without fail for the duration of the match. In front of the flags, several fans danced to the rythym of the drums, bouncing in an awkward, if not amusing manner, as long as the drums were beating (i.e. the whole game). A number of fans had the Cambodian flag painted on their face and cheered in a fervor akin to an American football game. This was the sporting event that my life had been craving since arriving in Cambodia.

The match was a good one. Cambodia dropped the first set (played to 25), but won the second. Slovakia won the third, but Cambodia rallied to win the fourth and force a fifth and final set. Not only was the play close, it was of a very high level. I was incredibly impressed that teams consisting of players missing a hand, arm, or even a leg (though all had prosthetics) could play volleyball as well as they did.

Moreover, the spirit of the Cambodian volleyball players was unparalleled even to the rowers that participated in Water Festival. Throughout the match, players rallied the crowd, interacted with fans, and wore their elated emotions on their sleeves. In a country in which so many people fall victims to landmines, this group of nine men really gave those victims something to look up to and aspire to. In many ways, it is probably much easier to give up hope and beg at a tourist attraction or a market, but these individuals put their disabilities aside and made something positive of it.

Cambodia fell early in the final set. When they were down 14-10 and the announcer said that it was match point, we were taken by surprise, thinking that the fifth set, like the first four, would be played to twenty-five. But, alas, the final set was to fifteen and Cambodia could not rally to win the four points in a row necessary to force play to continue. Later a friend described our feelings of disappointment quite well: "If only I had known, I could've cheered that much harder and maybe they would have won..."

Perhaps the most amusing event of the night was when an American tried to start the wave. Those of us that grew up in the U.S. do so thinking that the wave is universal. I mean, who doesn't know the wave? Well, the Cambodians don't. Though there were a handful of expats in the crowed, trying to coax the wave out of the Cambodians, it was a humorous failure. Inevitably, the Cambodian crowd would stand up completely out of order and remain standing, eliminating any possibility of creating a "wave" effect.

Though Cambodia lost their semifinal match, they did return to play Poland in the bronze medal game on Saturday afternoon. Needless to say, we attended. Though the atmosphere was not nearly as exhilarating as the night before (after all, Cambodia did not make the finals), the arena was almost as full as the previous night, almost as loud, and almost as enthusiastic. Cambodia was able to beat Poland to take the bronze. As is fitting with their spirit throughout, the players celebrated in style. After jumping up and down and paying their respects to the crowd, they ran laps around the volleyball court, waving large, silk Cambodian flags.

Bon Om Tuk

A week and a half ago, Phnom Penh was even more of a zoo that it is usually. From Friday, November 23 through Sunday, November 25 it was Bon Om Tuk, or Water Festival. It is a celebration in which some three million people, mostly from the Cambodian countryside, converged on Phnom Penh.

While the origins of Water Festival are a bit murky, the theory that seems most plausible is that it is a loosely Buddhist festival to celebrate the coming of the harvest and the harvest moon and the end of the rainy season, as well as the reversal of the Mekong's flow (yes, the river reverses the direction in which it flows).

The Festival is celebrated with three days of boat races. Over 400 boats from all over Cambodia participate with between twenty and eighty rowers in each boat. The boats, hand-carved in wood, are elaborately decorated in bright colors and feature a small shrine in both the front and back. The rowers all have matching shirts, shorts, and hats. For many of them it is their first trip not only out of their home province, but to Phnom Penh and thus, their first experience in a city with electricity, traffic, flushing toilets and other amenities we in the Western world take for granted.

Shanti and I had both heard that Phnom Penh is absolutely crazy during Water Festival; that the crowds are overwhelming, petty theft skyrockets, and that the city becomes a stinking mess by the second day (as most of the Cambodian visitors to the city camp along the riverfront and in various parks). Despite these warnings, we, and a few other friends, made our way to the riverfront on Friday morning to check things out for ourselves.

Arriving at the riverfront in front of the Royal Palace, it was crowded, but not nearly as overwhelming as we were expecting. A large tent was set up on the riverfront directly in front of the finish line for the King, government officials, and other dignitaries. Next to this tent, there was a tent that said "Welcome Foreign Visitors." Confused, we pondered for a moment whether we were the foreign visitors being welcomed by this sign or whether it was for someone more important. As we pondered, a sleek black Mercedes pulled up to the tent; and equally sleek Khmer man exited, wearing a black suit, white shirt, and gold tie. He motioned for us to enter, and as we did so, he introduced himself as the Minister of Tourism.

Normally I am not one to encourage segregation between Cambodians and foreigners. In fact, I usually find such discrepancies to be quite disturbing. In this instance, however, I was happy to take up residence in a shaded tent, directly on the riverfront, and right in front of the finish line to the boat races. To really sell Cambodia to the tourists, there were waitresses selling drinks, a translator to inform us which boats were racing and where they were from, and someone to answer questions we had about the way that the races worked. At one point, we were even brought complimentary beer!

In short, the races were phenomenal. The pride and exuberance of the rowers was unparalleled to anything I've seen before (however, this will be trumped by the pride and exuberance exhibited in my next entry...stay tuned). As there are no real prizes or winners, the races were more about pride than anything else. The boats raced two at a time, from a bridge about a mile north of the Royal Palace and then paddled back upriver to race again, but switching sides (because the current is highly variable). As they paddled back upriver, the boats passed right in front of the two tents to be rallied by an announcer. Again, the enthusiasm of the rowers was enormous: they chanted praises to their home provinces, beat drums that were stashed on the boat, or even danced and we had front row seats.

After several hours of racing, we were getting a bit hungry. Someone, I cannot remember who, suggested that we run across the street to one of the numerous riverfront restaurants to bring back food. We decided on pizza. Twenty minutes later, and with three piping hot pizzas, we waltzed back into the foreigner tent, feeling like heroes. It was almost as good as ordering pizza to Barnum (some of you will know what I mean).

Side note: while in the tent, one of the Ministry of Tourism officials was pointing various aspects of the races out to me. I couldn't figured out why, but he looked oddly familiar. It was not until he said something that I remembered. I had met him the week before when we were both stuck on National Road 7 south of Kratie, some 300 miles outside of Phnom Penh because a bridge was out.

Seven hours after we arrived, the boat races finally ended for the day. Our day, however, was not yet over. In fact, we still had several hours of celebration ahead of us. Behind us, the sky was pink, yellow, and orange, and the Royal Palace was illuminated with strands of white light, putting it in the most beautiful setting in which I had seen it. Even before it was dark, "floats" - boats with elaborate designs of light - began to line up in front of the Royal Palace. Eight floats in all, from the Royal Palace, the National Assembly, and various ministries made their way slowly down the river as fireworks were set off from the opposite banks. It was beautiful and completely unlike anything I had ever seen before. The bright floats, their reflections on the river, and the fireworks overhead, made for a wonderful conclusion to a fantastic day.

That said, we needed to put a cherry on top. We wandered home through large crowds - much larger than when we had arrived, but still not as big as we were expecting - to make a batch of brownies in our new toaster oven (thanks Mom!).

Having seen enough boat racing and fireworks, we decided to avoid the riverfront on Saturday until attending a party at a friend's apartment. The apartment was beautiful, with a small terrace overlooking the river and, on this night, the chaos below. It was the perfect venue to enjoy Water Festival without being in the middle of it. At the same time we enjoyed the floats and fireworks, we noshed on catered food and sipped pomegranate margaritas from an open bar.