For Water Festival, we headed for the foreign visitors tent, much like last year. It was clearly much better-advertised than last year, however, as the tent was practically full of tour groups wearing matching shirts and the steps in front of the tent, which were empty last year, were packed with foreigners. I won't repeat the details of the boat races or the atmosphere - they were largely the same as our first trip to Bon Om Tuk.
Once the boat races ended, we were again treated to a wonderful display of "floats." Over a dozen boats were outfitted with the emblems of various Cambodian ministries in elaborate and hulking displays of light. After the sun set, the floats headed upriver as fireworks went off behind them. It is at this time of day that the Water Festival is at its busiest - most of the villages that flock to Phnom Penh have seen plenty of boats, but few have seen a true fireworks display or anything akin to the floats.
Attempting to get from the foreign visitors tent to streets that were not closed to traffic - probably about half a mile - was difficult to say the least. I have never been packed into a crowd so tight in my life. It was exactly the kind of situation that the Embassy or the State Department tells you to avoid when traveling to domestic situations - if a fight were to break out or somebody were to start pushing, several people would have easily been trampled. It was not until later that we realized that people were crowding so tightly to catch a glimpse of the King, who was about to make his way from the VIP tent on the riverfront back to the Royal Palace.
We managed to find our way to Street 184, usually closed to the public, between the Royal Palace and the National Museum. We walked briskly away from the waterfront along with throngs of others. About halfway to Norodom Boulevard, where the road blocks ended, a big black Lexus SUV came up behind us. Even though there are hundreds of such vehicles in Phnom Penh alone, I always try to peer inside to see if it is His Excellency. In this case, I didn't see His Excellency, but I did recognize his driver and handyman. As I waved, he pulled up along side us. What are the odds? Tens of thousands of people walking down the street, hundreds of VIP cars, and we manage to run into His Excellency?
Though the car was mostly full, we squeezed in - me and Shanti's parents in the back with His Excellency's incredibly elegant wife, His Excellency up front, and Shanti and an RCAF officer (a bodyguard for His Excellency?) in the trunk. Though it was a bit cramped, it was definitely the best option in terms of transport; there was certainly not to be any haggling with price gouging tuk-tuk drivers tonight.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Monday, November 24, 2008
The Reverse Skin Tax
Leaving Memot early the morning after Sarath's wedding, we headed back to Phnom Penh. As Water Festival (Bon Om Tuk) began that afternoon, it was one of the worst possible days to be traveling to Phnom Penh. The population of the city supposedly doubles for the three-day festival from roughly three to six million people, and many of the villagers coming to town were doing so at the same time as us.
An additional concern was that at some point in the day - no one seemed to know for sure when - the bridge across the Tonle Sap would be closed to vehicular traffic. For most of the trip, the traffic wasn't nearly as bad as I was expecting; in fact, we were making really good time. About fifteen kilometers outside of town, however, we came to a dead stop. Over half an hour we moved perhaps a half kilometer. Shortly thereafter, we came to a checkpoint. Several police officers were waving all minivans (the typical, cramped, and overstuffed method for travel) to the side of the road. Apparently, only private vehicles were allowed past this checkpoint and everyone taking minivans or buses had to get out at this point and take either a moto or a tuk-tuk the 15km into town.
As we pulled up to the checkpoint, we were waved to the side of the road. The driver pulled up to one of the police officers and, in Khmer, said that he was transporting foreigners back to Phnom Penh. The officer simply nodded, and waved us down the road in which we were just about the only vehicle with more than two wheels. Just before we got to the Japanese Friendship Bridge across the Tonle Sap we came to another checkpoint. The driver tried the same technique as before, but to no avail. We were directed into a dirt parking lot, from which it was implied we would gather our belongings and walk across the bridge and back in to town.
Clearly all of us preferred to take the van all the way into town to be dropped off at our houses. So one of my coworkers and I (both foreigners) hopped out and, in Khmer, explained to the police officers that we were just coming back from a work trip to the provinces. He asked why we hadn't come back the day before, when the roads were open, to which we replied that we had to work. He seemed to mull this over for a minute, before waving our van over to him. As he did so, he gave us a nod, and we were on our way over the bridge. While crossing, one of my Khmer colleagues said, rather straightforwardly that it was because of us foreigners that we were allowed through both checkpoints. I joking replied simply "you're welcome."
It was a really interesting dynamic though. There is absolutely no way that a van full of Khmers would have been able to convince a police officer to let them through because they were coming back from a business trip. Perhaps if there was a bit of money involved or the driver was well-connected (what well-connected Khmer drives minivans for a living though?) passage would be a possibility. While we all felt a little uncomfortable with the special treatment we were getting, I suppose it was some pay back (pardon the pun) for being charged higher prices at the market, for travel, and other things. It would be much nicer, however, if we were on more level social ground, but it's going to be a long time before anything of that nature happens.
An additional concern was that at some point in the day - no one seemed to know for sure when - the bridge across the Tonle Sap would be closed to vehicular traffic. For most of the trip, the traffic wasn't nearly as bad as I was expecting; in fact, we were making really good time. About fifteen kilometers outside of town, however, we came to a dead stop. Over half an hour we moved perhaps a half kilometer. Shortly thereafter, we came to a checkpoint. Several police officers were waving all minivans (the typical, cramped, and overstuffed method for travel) to the side of the road. Apparently, only private vehicles were allowed past this checkpoint and everyone taking minivans or buses had to get out at this point and take either a moto or a tuk-tuk the 15km into town.
As we pulled up to the checkpoint, we were waved to the side of the road. The driver pulled up to one of the police officers and, in Khmer, said that he was transporting foreigners back to Phnom Penh. The officer simply nodded, and waved us down the road in which we were just about the only vehicle with more than two wheels. Just before we got to the Japanese Friendship Bridge across the Tonle Sap we came to another checkpoint. The driver tried the same technique as before, but to no avail. We were directed into a dirt parking lot, from which it was implied we would gather our belongings and walk across the bridge and back in to town.
Clearly all of us preferred to take the van all the way into town to be dropped off at our houses. So one of my coworkers and I (both foreigners) hopped out and, in Khmer, explained to the police officers that we were just coming back from a work trip to the provinces. He asked why we hadn't come back the day before, when the roads were open, to which we replied that we had to work. He seemed to mull this over for a minute, before waving our van over to him. As he did so, he gave us a nod, and we were on our way over the bridge. While crossing, one of my Khmer colleagues said, rather straightforwardly that it was because of us foreigners that we were allowed through both checkpoints. I joking replied simply "you're welcome."
It was a really interesting dynamic though. There is absolutely no way that a van full of Khmers would have been able to convince a police officer to let them through because they were coming back from a business trip. Perhaps if there was a bit of money involved or the driver was well-connected (what well-connected Khmer drives minivans for a living though?) passage would be a possibility. While we all felt a little uncomfortable with the special treatment we were getting, I suppose it was some pay back (pardon the pun) for being charged higher prices at the market, for travel, and other things. It would be much nicer, however, if we were on more level social ground, but it's going to be a long time before anything of that nature happens.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
A Village Wedding
The morning after dancing the night away at Vuth and Cina's wedding, we woke relatively early to celebrate Cambodia's 55th Independence Day, a rather communist style parade featuring tens of thousands of civil servants and floats from various ministries and the military. Early on Monday morning, Shanti and I and Shanti's parents piled into a minivan with about ten of my coworkers to set off for the wedding of one of my coworkers in Memot District, Kampong Cham Province. The four-hour ride was quite pleasant; it was nice to get out of Phnom Penh and see the rice fields at their peak.
We arrived at the bride's house, several kilometers outside of Memot town and right on the national road, just in time for a quick lunch. As with most village weddings, a huge tent containing dozens of tables was set up on the dirt in front of the house. There were relatively few people around - the traditional ceremonies that take place in the morning were over - so we had a quiet lunch and took the minivan into town to settle in to our guesthouse.
We relaxed a bit and then a handful of the foreigners in the group decided to go for a walk about town. The six of us were probably the most foreigners Memot had ever seen and the sight of us was cause for significant commotion. The fruit vendors were quite amused that we could speak a bit of Khmer and the moto drivers were certainly perplexed as to why we were in town. We stumbled upon a small, but interesting archaeological museum covering ancient civilizations in the surrounding area before going back to the guesthouse.
After some more relaxation we got suited up for the wedding and took the van back to the bride's house. Although it was not very crowded, there was a line out front of people waiting to get their pictures taken with Sarath, my coworker, and Kimhuch, his bride, under the archway entrance to the wedding tent. Next to the archway was a typically over-edited photograph of the couple in which they were a ghostly pale (pale skin is highly desirable across Cambodia and much of Asia and is seen as of a higher class than darker skin). Rising up from the entrance was a bamboo pole with two huge megaphones attached, one pointing in each direction the road went. The megaphones blasted music from a live band loud enough for neighbors several kilometers away to hear (another symbol of status is apparently letting as many people as possible know that you or your kin are getting married).
As we posed for pictures with Sarath and Kimhuch, a small gathering of local kids surrounded us, curious at the sight of so many barangs. We were seated at a table with discarded napkins, fish bones and other debris in a ring around the chairs, the typical disposal method for weddings. We were served a meal similar to but not quite as fancy as Vuth and Cina's wedding and were greeted with an endless supply of beer. A crew of several dozen local kids scanned the tables for those finishing their drinks and quickly snatched empty cans from the ground, a $0.03 per can gold mine.
The live band was quite loud and apparently caught the attention of the entire area. By the time it was 7:00, about an hour after we arrived, a crowd of several hundred villagers - not guests, merely onlookers - surrounded the wedding tent. The crowd quickly doubled in size once some of the barangs got up to dance and soon all of us were dancing in the best Khmer style we could, much to the amusement of the locals. It was simply amazing how many non-guests had turned out simply for entertainment. Obviously not too much happens in Memot, but I had to wonder if the crowd size was a standard or if the presence of foreigners had a particular drawing power.
At one point, a little before Sarath and Kimhuch were to make their entrance, a lotus flower fight broke out between some of the barangs and the local kids. Though it seemed as if everyone was having a good time with it, the bride's mother did not look amused. With several more beers in our bellies and another hour of dancing under our belts, we were exhausted. And it was only 8:30pm. Such is life in the provinces - it begins as soon as the sun is up and ends shortly after it goes down. Sarath's wedding was incredibly enjoyable, but in an entirely different way than Vuth and Cina's. It was certainly a unique experience that I will not soon forget.
We arrived at the bride's house, several kilometers outside of Memot town and right on the national road, just in time for a quick lunch. As with most village weddings, a huge tent containing dozens of tables was set up on the dirt in front of the house. There were relatively few people around - the traditional ceremonies that take place in the morning were over - so we had a quiet lunch and took the minivan into town to settle in to our guesthouse.
We relaxed a bit and then a handful of the foreigners in the group decided to go for a walk about town. The six of us were probably the most foreigners Memot had ever seen and the sight of us was cause for significant commotion. The fruit vendors were quite amused that we could speak a bit of Khmer and the moto drivers were certainly perplexed as to why we were in town. We stumbled upon a small, but interesting archaeological museum covering ancient civilizations in the surrounding area before going back to the guesthouse.
After some more relaxation we got suited up for the wedding and took the van back to the bride's house. Although it was not very crowded, there was a line out front of people waiting to get their pictures taken with Sarath, my coworker, and Kimhuch, his bride, under the archway entrance to the wedding tent. Next to the archway was a typically over-edited photograph of the couple in which they were a ghostly pale (pale skin is highly desirable across Cambodia and much of Asia and is seen as of a higher class than darker skin). Rising up from the entrance was a bamboo pole with two huge megaphones attached, one pointing in each direction the road went. The megaphones blasted music from a live band loud enough for neighbors several kilometers away to hear (another symbol of status is apparently letting as many people as possible know that you or your kin are getting married).
As we posed for pictures with Sarath and Kimhuch, a small gathering of local kids surrounded us, curious at the sight of so many barangs. We were seated at a table with discarded napkins, fish bones and other debris in a ring around the chairs, the typical disposal method for weddings. We were served a meal similar to but not quite as fancy as Vuth and Cina's wedding and were greeted with an endless supply of beer. A crew of several dozen local kids scanned the tables for those finishing their drinks and quickly snatched empty cans from the ground, a $0.03 per can gold mine.
The live band was quite loud and apparently caught the attention of the entire area. By the time it was 7:00, about an hour after we arrived, a crowd of several hundred villagers - not guests, merely onlookers - surrounded the wedding tent. The crowd quickly doubled in size once some of the barangs got up to dance and soon all of us were dancing in the best Khmer style we could, much to the amusement of the locals. It was simply amazing how many non-guests had turned out simply for entertainment. Obviously not too much happens in Memot, but I had to wonder if the crowd size was a standard or if the presence of foreigners had a particular drawing power.
At one point, a little before Sarath and Kimhuch were to make their entrance, a lotus flower fight broke out between some of the barangs and the local kids. Though it seemed as if everyone was having a good time with it, the bride's mother did not look amused. With several more beers in our bellies and another hour of dancing under our belts, we were exhausted. And it was only 8:30pm. Such is life in the provinces - it begins as soon as the sun is up and ends shortly after it goes down. Sarath's wedding was incredibly enjoyable, but in an entirely different way than Vuth and Cina's. It was certainly a unique experience that I will not soon forget.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
A Phnom Penh Wedding
Shanti’s parents arrived in Phnom Penh at the beginning of November just in time for a flurry of activity. With the end of the rainy season comes two things: weddings and the Water Festival. Over a period of four days, we had two weddings to attend, including most of the traditional ceremonies for one of them. The first wedding was for Vuth, a friend of mine and one of Shanti’s former co-workers, and Cina, who has been an extremely helpful and reliable travel agent since shortly after we arrived in Phnom Penh.
While I don't want to overplay it, I'd like to think that Shanti and I had a little something in establishing Vuth and Cina's relationship. They knew each other before we arrived and there seemed to be some attraction, but a dinner at our house was one of the first times they had truly spent time together. Shanti and I also enthusiastically coached Vuth on courting Cina. Regardless of the importance of our role, we were excited for the first wedding in which we were friends with both the groom and bride.
The wedding was a typical, if not slightly lavish, Phnom Penh wedding. A large tent was set up in the street in front of Cina’s house on Friday and a few traditional ceremonies (which I was unable to attend, but Shanti and her parents were) were held for family and very close friends. I got off work in time to catch the end of dinner and offer my congratulations to both Vuth and Cina.
Early on Saturday morning the festivities continued with a procession of food and other gifts to Cina’s house; it was definitely the longest wedding procession I had ever seen. Throughout the morning were a number ceremonies in which we had the honor to participate as much of Vuth’s family, from Battambang, was unable to attend the wedding. There was the ribbon-tying ceremony, the hair cutting ceremony, a blessing for ancestors, a blessing from parents, all facilitated by a pushy emcee.
Following an afternoon of relaxation, we reconvened – men in dress pants and a shirt and women in slightly ridiculous silk wedding outfits – at Lucky Star restaurant. The restaurant is in fact a series of banquet halls used primarily for enormous Cambodian weddings. Vuth and Cina’s accommodated approximately 500 people, a relatively common size for urban weddings. After a greeting from Vuth, his groomsmen, and the bridesmaids at the entrance to Building A, we were seated for a typical meal of several courses: first, cashews, spring rolls, fried fish cakes, and other appetizers; second, a kind of crab soup; third, a salad of noodles, seafood, and pomelo (similar to but sweeter than grapefruit); fourth, fish; fifth, rice with chicken; and sixth, a small dessert and fruit.
Throughout the meal a live band played and Vuth and Cina’s friends rose to the stage and sang their favorite songs. There was a lot of fairly raucous dancing, at which Shanti’s mom excelled. I certainly hadn’t ever seen her mom boogie like she did and I think Shanti was equally impressed and amused. This was, in fact, the only thing a bit unusual about the wedding: how lighthearted the evening seemed to be and how happy the guests were. Most weddings are fairly formal affairs in which strict protocols are followed. The singing and dancing and general joyousness at Vuth and Cina’s certainly broke from the norm in this sense. It was, at least for the moment, the most fun I had ever had at a wedding.
While I don't want to overplay it, I'd like to think that Shanti and I had a little something in establishing Vuth and Cina's relationship. They knew each other before we arrived and there seemed to be some attraction, but a dinner at our house was one of the first times they had truly spent time together. Shanti and I also enthusiastically coached Vuth on courting Cina. Regardless of the importance of our role, we were excited for the first wedding in which we were friends with both the groom and bride.
The wedding was a typical, if not slightly lavish, Phnom Penh wedding. A large tent was set up in the street in front of Cina’s house on Friday and a few traditional ceremonies (which I was unable to attend, but Shanti and her parents were) were held for family and very close friends. I got off work in time to catch the end of dinner and offer my congratulations to both Vuth and Cina.
Early on Saturday morning the festivities continued with a procession of food and other gifts to Cina’s house; it was definitely the longest wedding procession I had ever seen. Throughout the morning were a number ceremonies in which we had the honor to participate as much of Vuth’s family, from Battambang, was unable to attend the wedding. There was the ribbon-tying ceremony, the hair cutting ceremony, a blessing for ancestors, a blessing from parents, all facilitated by a pushy emcee.
Following an afternoon of relaxation, we reconvened – men in dress pants and a shirt and women in slightly ridiculous silk wedding outfits – at Lucky Star restaurant. The restaurant is in fact a series of banquet halls used primarily for enormous Cambodian weddings. Vuth and Cina’s accommodated approximately 500 people, a relatively common size for urban weddings. After a greeting from Vuth, his groomsmen, and the bridesmaids at the entrance to Building A, we were seated for a typical meal of several courses: first, cashews, spring rolls, fried fish cakes, and other appetizers; second, a kind of crab soup; third, a salad of noodles, seafood, and pomelo (similar to but sweeter than grapefruit); fourth, fish; fifth, rice with chicken; and sixth, a small dessert and fruit.
Throughout the meal a live band played and Vuth and Cina’s friends rose to the stage and sang their favorite songs. There was a lot of fairly raucous dancing, at which Shanti’s mom excelled. I certainly hadn’t ever seen her mom boogie like she did and I think Shanti was equally impressed and amused. This was, in fact, the only thing a bit unusual about the wedding: how lighthearted the evening seemed to be and how happy the guests were. Most weddings are fairly formal affairs in which strict protocols are followed. The singing and dancing and general joyousness at Vuth and Cina’s certainly broke from the norm in this sense. It was, at least for the moment, the most fun I had ever had at a wedding.
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