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.