Monday, January 26, 2009

Welcome to my Holiday in Cambodia (consult your Dead Kennedys for the reference)

Alright, as promised here is an abbreviated version of my first thoughts on Cambodia. They're not extremely detailed, mainly because my first impressions of many aspects of this culture were already written about in my Thailand journal.
Once again, not that interesting...but then again, you don't have to read it.

1/23/09
Phnom Penh, Cambodia

Well, I've been in Cambodia an entire 12 hours and have yet to lose my legs to a landmine. I'd say that qualifies this as a fairly successful trip so far.

After some 20 odd hours of being seated behind the only oblivious asshole on the entire flight that pushes their seat the ENTIRE way back and entertaining myself by musing over important questions like 'why, oh why, do they have ashtrays on flights when they insist there is absolutely no smoking allowed?'I emerged into the balmy terminal of Phnom Penh's International Airport.

I breeze through the visa check point and collect my bag, then turn into the women's bathroom to do all the important self grooming things to make myself somewhat presentable- brush teeth, change clothes, attempt to drag a comb through my rat's nest excuse for hair. But alas, the travel gods were not with me and as I turn the corner I'm greeted by a line of about 15 women waiting for the one stall. I shrink for a second, then shrug. Fuck it. I'm going to look like shit until I get some sleep anyway. I pull out my brush in front of the Customs' people anyway and tear through a few snarls for posterity's sake- after all, I don't really want to scare anyone.

Raen, my tuk tuk driver spots me before I can spot my own name. Guess I'm pretty obvious as I'm the only white girl on the flight. He leads me to my waiting chariot and we muddle through pleasantries in broken English. I confirm the price twice before hopping on.

It only takes about 15 seconds aboard the vehicle before it hits me. Not the excitement; there's still no flutter of anticipation of the unknown, and I don't think I will get that here...not in this city at least. No, the feeling that washes over me is more akin to that of a homecoming, strange as that might sound. The similarities between the streets of Phnom Penh and those of Phuket Town, my former SE Asian home, are immediately apparent. Present are the same crumbling sidewalks and dirt lots lining the never ending string of mom and pop storefronts filled with eclectic assortments of toiletries, clothing and prepackaged foodstuffs. Outdoor markets whiz by and I try to make a mental note of the more exotic looking stalls. Winding snakes, skewered and grilled next to the feet and internal organs of some animal that Andrew Zimmer probably worships. The biggest culinary difference I notice are the motobikes draped with chicken and other fowl. Not dead though. Strings and strings of tethered birds hanging off the sides just kinda chillin' and taking in the sites with me. That's probably a common site in a lot of places in Thailand too, but it wasn't something I remember encountering in such an abundance. The traffic, of course, is chaotic and hectic. The painted lines on the road where there's pavement bare absolutely no purpose as hordes of motobikes, tuk tuks, bikes, and the occasional car honk and weave through each other, sweeping confidently through and across oncoming traffic without so much as a glancing thought to their personal well-being and safety.

We arrive safely to a chorus of motobike drivers outside my hotel cat-calling and yelling out variations of "Where you go pretty girl? I drive," one asks me where I'm from and I throw "California," over my shoulder as I hurry into the lobby. They make approving noises before the door closes. I tell ya, as a western woman, if you ever need to feel appreciated, just come to Asia. Though I'm truly and deeply annoyed by the constant attention, I have to admit there exists a shred of flattery that I am quite careful to keep hidden.

Up to my bare quarters I go, paying my tuk tuk driver, and locking the door behind him. The room is probably how most people imagine prison quarters in the states, except the toilet is enclosed. Despite the lack of standing room though, I am extremely grateful for the large bed that dominates the space. I strip down and collapse on my bed, relieved to be greeted by clean sheets. As is custom, I take a self portrait of my arrival to a new country...but I'm too lazy and can't be bothered to actually aim my camera back at my face, so I prop one foot up and snap an artsy shot entitled "Dirty foot, clean sheets, wall, door." I start to feel myself sink into the firm mattress and shake myself awake. How lame would it be if I just slept my first afternoon here? I came for adventures right? Besides, I want to get on Cambodian time as quickly as possible. I jump into a cold shower which helped to jar my senses, changed into appropriate 90 degree attire, and headed out to explore.

I walk through the small dirt roads packed with carts, store fronts and eager tuk tuk drivers yelling as I pass. The shake off I grew accustomed to in Thailand returns to me automatically. (Note: Later I learned how to pair it with a respectable verbal refusal as well). I walk for a good couple miles before turning around and heading back to my temporary homestead. Just as I make it back to the main alley my hotel is down, my sandal breaks. Of course. Beyond salvage I reluctantly go barefoot (yay tough mountain feet) and suddenly become very grateful for having my tetanus shot prior to departure. I hold up the mangled shoe to the first store front I come to. The elderly woman behind the counter shakes her head and points down a little offshoot of the alley to another store. Who needs verbal language? A minute later I've found flip flops that fit (easy to find small footwear in Asia) and negotiated a fair price. My first purchase and I don't feel like I got ripped off. Always a good start.

I resume the short trek back to my room, but within 50 ft of the entrance I stop dead in my tracks. Could it be? No...really? An Irish pub. Two doors from my hostel. That serves curry all day. And Jameson for less than a dollar.
I almost cried.
I love Cambodia.

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