Monday, June 21, 2010
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Cambodian Manna
I knew that I liked food. But I didn’t know that I liked it this much. The events of this morning confirm that I am in fact crazy about food and will, in this case, do anything for a round piece of sesame bread.
So let’s dispel any notions that sesame bread is bland and somehow unworthy of being the object of my morning's madness. Sesame bread, in Cambodia, is one of the most delicious foods I have tasted. Admittedly, I’m not sesame’s biggest fan, but this bread is heavenly. It’s round and hollow like a beignet but with sweetened sesame seeds on top. It’s more doughy than flaky, more thick than thin. I have only had it twice, so imagine how bad my cravings must have been as I embarked on my pilgrimage to the market this morning to track it down for breakfast.
I love the market here. It’s busy, alive, and overflowing with fresh fruits, vegetables, and breads. It’s chaotic and smelly and best of all, I get to ride my bike around and put all my purchases in my little bike basket. If knowing that it’s finally Friday wasn’t enough to make me get out of bed this morning, then the promise of riding my bike to purchase sesame bread surely was. Let’s just say that I was excited and may or may not have been singing to myself in the bathroom this morning. I’m telling you, this bread makes me go crazy.
So I get to the market, park my bike near a curb, and begin my search. Now, I have never bought this bread for myself before. It always seems to just appear in front of me. Once I had it at a restaurant where it was the complimentary bread; another time my boss, Som, bought it for us on her morning walk. That’s another reason why the bread is heavenly – it just appears out of thin air, not that different from Manna. Thus, knowing that this bread is rather elusive, I’m on my A game. My eyes are peeled and my money is out. My stomach is growling and ready to pounce on that sweet baked goodness when I spot it.
Imagine my slight confusion when the bread is nowhere to be found. There is French bread, garlic bread, rolls, and buns…but nothing resembling my manna. I walk nervously back and forth, up and down all the stalls of the market. Nothing. I walk to a fruit stand where I know the vendor speaks decent English. I describe my bread, curving my hands into a round shape and pretending to take a bite. I was on a mission, and words were not enough. I needed hand motions. She understands me, laughs, and points down the street to the gas station. I thank her, hop on my bike, and already feel better knowing that the bread exists…just not in the market.
Dodging all the motos and chickens and ox carts was difficult in the morning traffic, but I swear I was more confident on that bike, knowing that bread was soon to be bought. I ride down to the gas station with a smile on my face. I pull up, but there are no vendors. In fact, there is no food anywhere. Not even a restaurant. My confusion turns to frustration as I begin to realize that this bread hunt is turning into just that…a hunt. It is no longer a lazy morning stroll through the market, it is a full on scramble to FIND THAT BREAD before I have to head to work.
I ride down to the bank. Nothing. I pop into a café. Even more nothing. I talk to a few people on the street, relying on my hand motions again. No one knows where to find it. At this point, I say a desperate prayer to the God of Manna that this bread will begin to rain from above and fill the streets with its sweetness. When my prayer goes unanswered (because that is definitely how God works), I start to get mad, thinking that this town is full of a bunch of nothing! If there is no sesame bread, then why is the world even still spinning!? These thoughts, among others that are more colorful, go through my head as I imagine heading to work breadless and breakfast-less.
I resolve to end the search, after one last hurrah. I head back to the hotel, recalling that I have seen sesame bread on their menu before. I walk in, head straight to the waitress that speaks the best English, and, as politely as I can muster, order sesame bread. She nods and takes my money. I wait.
A dreadfully long time later, she returns with a to-go bag. A rush of relief washes over me, until I realize that my sesame bread has been taken captive by a loaf of French bread! What? Where did it go? I don’t want French bread! I want sesame bread! This must be some kind of mistake! After getting yet another confused look as to why this other bread simply won’t do, I call it a day and ask for my money back. I sulk out of the hotel to head to work, thinking that the world is just not a good place this morning.
I walk into work with a look of defeat on my face. And in this case, defeat could be acting as a synonym for rage (Ask Brekke what I said when she asked if I found my bread. It was a touchy subject, okay? It was just too soon). I walk down to my friend Nith’s office to vent about the bread, seeing as how he was the one that told me I could find it at the market. After telling me that I had actually been looking on the wrong side of the market, God enters his body and speaks to me directly: “I’ll send a driver to get it for you. One piece or two?” The world becomes a better place in that moment, as I jump up and down screaming “Two! Two!”
As the God of the Old Testament says, referring to manna, “… in the morning you shall be filled with bread; then you shall know that I am The Lord your God” (Exodus 16:12). I guess it is only appropriate that, try as I may, I couldn’t provide the bread for myself.
So let’s dispel any notions that sesame bread is bland and somehow unworthy of being the object of my morning's madness. Sesame bread, in Cambodia, is one of the most delicious foods I have tasted. Admittedly, I’m not sesame’s biggest fan, but this bread is heavenly. It’s round and hollow like a beignet but with sweetened sesame seeds on top. It’s more doughy than flaky, more thick than thin. I have only had it twice, so imagine how bad my cravings must have been as I embarked on my pilgrimage to the market this morning to track it down for breakfast.
I love the market here. It’s busy, alive, and overflowing with fresh fruits, vegetables, and breads. It’s chaotic and smelly and best of all, I get to ride my bike around and put all my purchases in my little bike basket. If knowing that it’s finally Friday wasn’t enough to make me get out of bed this morning, then the promise of riding my bike to purchase sesame bread surely was. Let’s just say that I was excited and may or may not have been singing to myself in the bathroom this morning. I’m telling you, this bread makes me go crazy.
So I get to the market, park my bike near a curb, and begin my search. Now, I have never bought this bread for myself before. It always seems to just appear in front of me. Once I had it at a restaurant where it was the complimentary bread; another time my boss, Som, bought it for us on her morning walk. That’s another reason why the bread is heavenly – it just appears out of thin air, not that different from Manna. Thus, knowing that this bread is rather elusive, I’m on my A game. My eyes are peeled and my money is out. My stomach is growling and ready to pounce on that sweet baked goodness when I spot it.
Imagine my slight confusion when the bread is nowhere to be found. There is French bread, garlic bread, rolls, and buns…but nothing resembling my manna. I walk nervously back and forth, up and down all the stalls of the market. Nothing. I walk to a fruit stand where I know the vendor speaks decent English. I describe my bread, curving my hands into a round shape and pretending to take a bite. I was on a mission, and words were not enough. I needed hand motions. She understands me, laughs, and points down the street to the gas station. I thank her, hop on my bike, and already feel better knowing that the bread exists…just not in the market.
Dodging all the motos and chickens and ox carts was difficult in the morning traffic, but I swear I was more confident on that bike, knowing that bread was soon to be bought. I ride down to the gas station with a smile on my face. I pull up, but there are no vendors. In fact, there is no food anywhere. Not even a restaurant. My confusion turns to frustration as I begin to realize that this bread hunt is turning into just that…a hunt. It is no longer a lazy morning stroll through the market, it is a full on scramble to FIND THAT BREAD before I have to head to work.
I ride down to the bank. Nothing. I pop into a café. Even more nothing. I talk to a few people on the street, relying on my hand motions again. No one knows where to find it. At this point, I say a desperate prayer to the God of Manna that this bread will begin to rain from above and fill the streets with its sweetness. When my prayer goes unanswered (because that is definitely how God works), I start to get mad, thinking that this town is full of a bunch of nothing! If there is no sesame bread, then why is the world even still spinning!? These thoughts, among others that are more colorful, go through my head as I imagine heading to work breadless and breakfast-less.
I resolve to end the search, after one last hurrah. I head back to the hotel, recalling that I have seen sesame bread on their menu before. I walk in, head straight to the waitress that speaks the best English, and, as politely as I can muster, order sesame bread. She nods and takes my money. I wait.
A dreadfully long time later, she returns with a to-go bag. A rush of relief washes over me, until I realize that my sesame bread has been taken captive by a loaf of French bread! What? Where did it go? I don’t want French bread! I want sesame bread! This must be some kind of mistake! After getting yet another confused look as to why this other bread simply won’t do, I call it a day and ask for my money back. I sulk out of the hotel to head to work, thinking that the world is just not a good place this morning.
I walk into work with a look of defeat on my face. And in this case, defeat could be acting as a synonym for rage (Ask Brekke what I said when she asked if I found my bread. It was a touchy subject, okay? It was just too soon). I walk down to my friend Nith’s office to vent about the bread, seeing as how he was the one that told me I could find it at the market. After telling me that I had actually been looking on the wrong side of the market, God enters his body and speaks to me directly: “I’ll send a driver to get it for you. One piece or two?” The world becomes a better place in that moment, as I jump up and down screaming “Two! Two!”
As the God of the Old Testament says, referring to manna, “… in the morning you shall be filled with bread; then you shall know that I am The Lord your God” (Exodus 16:12). I guess it is only appropriate that, try as I may, I couldn’t provide the bread for myself.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Living Out in the Open
Cambodian culture is not only distinct, but it is distinct in a visible way. By visible, I mean that as an American it is easy to detect the differences between my way of life and a Cambodian’s way of life – the food, the language, the “dress code,” and of course, the vast economic and political differences. But by visible, I also mean something that is perhaps more obvious, and definitely more indicting of the way that my life is organized in America. Cambodian’s live in a visible way, meaning that their lives are not hidden from the lives of neighbors, or customers, or foreign tourists. Many own little shops lining the roads or sell fruit at the local market, sitting next to their products hour after hour. Most of their homes are comprised of one large room, perhaps one bed. Cambodians do not remain hidden behind tinted windows, for bicycles and motorcycles are the most common form of transportation. Granted, this visibility may not be an active choice for many Cambodians because of their various levels of poverty and utter dependence on others. But, this visibility, whatever the reason, is in fact a radical departure from the way Americans more than not choose to structure their lives. In the United States, we love eating in booths for privacy, building fences and planting shrubbery around our property, and even having multiple rooms in our homes devoted to “escaping” from other family members. We cannot deny that we create boundaries for ourselves, shielding our lives from others around us. In Cambodia, those boundaries seem almost non-existent. This tactic of shielding is rare and would frankly be an insulting way to live here.
Among the new ways of life that I have encountered, living out in the open has been the most challenging. I can try new foods, learn words of Khmer, dress more modestly, and work to help build a Cambodia that is more stable and self-sufficient. But a purposeful tearing down of my erected boundaries has not been an easy task, for I am realizing that I am almost intrinsically wired to build forms of protection around myself. I have been taught to value independence. I have been taught to strive for security. And perhaps most sadly, I have been taught that reliance is in fact a weakness. Learning how to forgo the parts of myself that are riddled with procuring security and seeking out seclusion has been difficult, but in Cambodia, I seem to have quite the support group to emulate. Although I purchased a bike and try to eat my meals with locals when I feel confident enough to stomach a new dish, I have a long way to go. And I am not wholly convinced that I will achieve this “living out in the open” before I leave Cambodia. It will indeed be something that I intentionally strive to maintain and continue when I return home.
So how do we reconcile these vastly different ways of living? Is the answer to completely abandon eating in a booth or buying plants? I don’t think so. I do, however, think the answer lies in the act of being deliberate, for which the life of Jesus can prove to be a valuable model. There was nothing secure or safe or secluded in what he preached, whom he ate with, or where he traveled. Yes, his life was filled with risk, but it was also abundant in intentionality. I believe that intentionality is the key if our lives are to become more interwoven and interconnected. We must become a people who step out from behind. Jesus advocated for a life lived fully, and a life lived fully cannot occur from behind tinted windows or tall shrubbery. The characters from Monty Python and the Holy Grail are popular proponents of shrubbery, but if I recall correctly, they failed to find the Holy Grail.
I plan on submitting this post to Emory's blog website, as well. There, you can also read stories of the other Emory IRD interns stationed around the globe. Here is the web address of the abroad blog: http://www.candler.emory.edu/NEWS/IRD/
Among the new ways of life that I have encountered, living out in the open has been the most challenging. I can try new foods, learn words of Khmer, dress more modestly, and work to help build a Cambodia that is more stable and self-sufficient. But a purposeful tearing down of my erected boundaries has not been an easy task, for I am realizing that I am almost intrinsically wired to build forms of protection around myself. I have been taught to value independence. I have been taught to strive for security. And perhaps most sadly, I have been taught that reliance is in fact a weakness. Learning how to forgo the parts of myself that are riddled with procuring security and seeking out seclusion has been difficult, but in Cambodia, I seem to have quite the support group to emulate. Although I purchased a bike and try to eat my meals with locals when I feel confident enough to stomach a new dish, I have a long way to go. And I am not wholly convinced that I will achieve this “living out in the open” before I leave Cambodia. It will indeed be something that I intentionally strive to maintain and continue when I return home.
So how do we reconcile these vastly different ways of living? Is the answer to completely abandon eating in a booth or buying plants? I don’t think so. I do, however, think the answer lies in the act of being deliberate, for which the life of Jesus can prove to be a valuable model. There was nothing secure or safe or secluded in what he preached, whom he ate with, or where he traveled. Yes, his life was filled with risk, but it was also abundant in intentionality. I believe that intentionality is the key if our lives are to become more interwoven and interconnected. We must become a people who step out from behind. Jesus advocated for a life lived fully, and a life lived fully cannot occur from behind tinted windows or tall shrubbery. The characters from Monty Python and the Holy Grail are popular proponents of shrubbery, but if I recall correctly, they failed to find the Holy Grail.
I plan on submitting this post to Emory's blog website, as well. There, you can also read stories of the other Emory IRD interns stationed around the globe. Here is the web address of the abroad blog: http://www.candler.emory.edu/NEWS/IRD/
Thursday, June 10, 2010
The List
This may come as a rather blunt or worry-inducing thing to say, but lately I have had several brushes with death. Getting horribly sick because of mis-prescribed malaria medication, being out to sea when a monsoon hit, and almost being slamed by speeding motos and yes, cows, in the not-so-calm streets are the main events I have encountered. None of said incidents actually brought me to the point of visualizing Peter and his Pearly Gate, but they were rather frightening and, shall we say, thought-provoking.
Now, I cannot claim the brushes with death as wholly my own. Brekke has been there for most of them and has also seen her life flash before her eyes. Naturally, death has become a running joke between us and we finally did what we have been talking about doing for the past two weeks: create the Top 10 Ways to Die in Cambodia list. While it is true that this list does come out of our experience, it is also meant to be both funny and revealing about what life in Cambodia can be like. Inadequate medical care, less than enforced traffic laws, and unsanitary drinking water are normal here. Thus, I have come to realize just how safe of a life I live in America, simply because of what I have access to. Fortunately, we are only here for two months and WE WILL COME BACK ALIVE. Many Cambodians deal with these things on a daily basis and death is more of a daily reality for them than it has ever been and will ever be for me.
Thanks be to the mastermind, Brekke, behind the compilation of The List.
10. Hydroplaning in a vehicle of any sort - The monsoon rains are sudden and last for quite a long time (think multiple hours). Paired with rather unkempt roads and rather uncouth drivers, hydroplaning is a sure way to “loose the mortal coil” as one might say. A car out of control could take out not just the passengers, but also passing motos, bicyclers, pedestrians and unwary cows. Because monsoon rains are only once a day though, hydroplaning makes number 10.
9. Infected bites, cuts, abrasions, lacerations, etc – after the tragic implanting of sea urchin spines into my right heel this past weekend, I became acutely aware of the health risk that infection poses to most Cambodians, and to ex pats living and working here. With less than adequate facilities dotting the country, any kind of open sore or wound has a high likelihood of being easily infected. The tap water here isn’t potable (which means we can’t drink it) and while it’s not too terrible to wash in, if you don’t want to swallow it, you don’t want to wash a wound with it. Since we hope to avoid open wounds at all costs, infection is only number 9 on our list.
8. Attack by roving bands of she-hes - according to British Dave, as opposed to Aussie Dave (two travelers we met while snorkeling),bands of “she-hes” (we’re not exactly sure what he meant, but we guess that they were transvestites) lie in wait for tourists in bars. While Sara and I have never experienced this, Dave was quite adamant, and had battle wounds to prove it. Apparently, he had been lured into a room with one of these wily bands and had to jump out a glass window in order to escape. He had several deep cuts and a bad burn form where he jumped on a speeding moto in his get-away. If he wasn’t so embarrassed by the story I would have thought he was lying to me. So, because you never know who you’ll meet in a bar, the she-hes make number 8.
7. Drowning in a boat on the way to or from shore – Sara and I had plans to go snorkeling one of the days on our beach trip (can I just say epic fail) and in route to the island the rains hit (in the morning!) and I think we very nearly drowned. The normally peaceful ocean turned grey, warm salty water smashed into our little dingy from the sea, cold water was pelting us from the sky. As we strapped orange life-vests to our shivering little selves, I remember thinking “this is a crappy way to go, out here in the middle of nowhere ocean, no one knowing where we are.” And then the motor of the boat died. Because only the grace the Almighty got us through that storm, death by drowning hits the top 10 list at number 7.
6. Abduction by the Khmer Rouge – while we have been lucky to have had our travels be (mostly) uneventful, the Khmer Rouge is still a significant threat in parts of the country. So, visiting the majestic mountains that rise out on the horizon is a no-go for these rather bumbling Americans. The rebels tend to stay in their mountains; as long as we avoid them, they should avoid us. But, because of their bloody past and unsure future, the Khmer Rouge lands just shy of the top 5 at number 6.
5. Unexploded landmines – Cambodia has the most unexploded landmines of ANY Southeast Asian country. Because there are so many of them, people routinely die from stepping in the wrong spot. Off-trail hiking is illegal in Cambodia because so many tourists have died over the years. And, if the landmine didn’t kill you and you survive the substandard medical care (think back to number 9), you inability to get work will probably result in death by malnutrition. The CMAC landmine detection and detonation training center is about a mile from the IRD office in Kampong Chhnang and routinely interrupts our meetings with small explosions. Because landmines are undiscriminating and can cause multiple death scenarios, they make it to the top 5.
4. Malaria medication – As Sara unfortunately discovered this past week, mis-prescribed Malaria mediation can be just as painful – and potentially lethal – as contracting the disease itself. Malaria medications have a variety of side effects, including: constipation, diarrhea, fever, hallucination, vivid dreaming, bi-polar tendencies, depression, gastritious and acid reflux. If you can survive your medication, then you’re doing well. Because Malaria medication is suppose to be preventative, and is mandatory for travel in Cambodia, it ranks as the number 4 way to die in Cambodia.
3. Malaria and Dengue Fever – if you stop taking your Malaria medication as a medical intervention, you then run the risk of contracting the very disease you were trying to prevent. Not to mention Dengue Fever, which there is no prevention for except to spray down with bug spray and pray. And don’t think OFF Deep Woods will be enough; I have learned the hard way that it merely dissuades already passive mosquitoes. The really persistent ones pay no mind to the spray. Day or night, mosquitoes present and pose a real threat, especially to foreigners who haven’t acclimated to the climate and to the prevalence of the diseases. Because of the unavoidable effects of Malaria and Dengue fever – whether preventative measures, or unfortunate contraction – this pair of diseases comes in third on our top 10 list.
2. Diarrhea – this unavoidable reality for all travelers to Cambodia is still the number one killer of children under the age of 5. Coupled with malnutrition, diarrhea is a leading factor in why there is an alarmingly high <5 mortality rate and why so many children are stunted and have growth and development problems. The prevalence of contaminated water is a direct cause of diarrhea. What’s more, as the monsoons set in, what is known as the “diarrhea season” hits like…well, you know. And, this unsavory sickness doesn’t just strike poor village farmers; your intrepid explorers are not immune to illness. Undercooked foods, vegetables washed in contaminated water, the side effects of Dengue, Malaria and Malaria medication all cause achy and incompliant bowels. Diarrhea – like landmines – is an indiscriminant way to kick the bucket (while on it). Because it pays no mind to social class, gender, nationality or job description, Diarrhea comes in as the second best (?) way to die in Cambodia.
1. Car accident – if any of my previous posts didn’t already give it away, car accidents rank as the number one most-likely and best (worst?) way to die in Cambodia. You may survive abduction, angry ocean waves, upset intestines and blistering heat but in a country without traffic laws or traffic police, death behind the wheel is unfortunately a high probability. Not to mention the whizzing moto drivers, riding helmetless through busy Phnom Penh streets. Due to poorly maintained roads, a frightening lack of accepted traffic laws and the sheer swarm of people on all manner of transport, death by car accident (or tuk-tuk crash, or moto catastrophe) is the number one most likely, best and worst way to die in Cambodia.
Now, I cannot claim the brushes with death as wholly my own. Brekke has been there for most of them and has also seen her life flash before her eyes. Naturally, death has become a running joke between us and we finally did what we have been talking about doing for the past two weeks: create the Top 10 Ways to Die in Cambodia list. While it is true that this list does come out of our experience, it is also meant to be both funny and revealing about what life in Cambodia can be like. Inadequate medical care, less than enforced traffic laws, and unsanitary drinking water are normal here. Thus, I have come to realize just how safe of a life I live in America, simply because of what I have access to. Fortunately, we are only here for two months and WE WILL COME BACK ALIVE. Many Cambodians deal with these things on a daily basis and death is more of a daily reality for them than it has ever been and will ever be for me.
Thanks be to the mastermind, Brekke, behind the compilation of The List.
10. Hydroplaning in a vehicle of any sort - The monsoon rains are sudden and last for quite a long time (think multiple hours). Paired with rather unkempt roads and rather uncouth drivers, hydroplaning is a sure way to “loose the mortal coil” as one might say. A car out of control could take out not just the passengers, but also passing motos, bicyclers, pedestrians and unwary cows. Because monsoon rains are only once a day though, hydroplaning makes number 10.
9. Infected bites, cuts, abrasions, lacerations, etc – after the tragic implanting of sea urchin spines into my right heel this past weekend, I became acutely aware of the health risk that infection poses to most Cambodians, and to ex pats living and working here. With less than adequate facilities dotting the country, any kind of open sore or wound has a high likelihood of being easily infected. The tap water here isn’t potable (which means we can’t drink it) and while it’s not too terrible to wash in, if you don’t want to swallow it, you don’t want to wash a wound with it. Since we hope to avoid open wounds at all costs, infection is only number 9 on our list.
8. Attack by roving bands of she-hes - according to British Dave, as opposed to Aussie Dave (two travelers we met while snorkeling),bands of “she-hes” (we’re not exactly sure what he meant, but we guess that they were transvestites) lie in wait for tourists in bars. While Sara and I have never experienced this, Dave was quite adamant, and had battle wounds to prove it. Apparently, he had been lured into a room with one of these wily bands and had to jump out a glass window in order to escape. He had several deep cuts and a bad burn form where he jumped on a speeding moto in his get-away. If he wasn’t so embarrassed by the story I would have thought he was lying to me. So, because you never know who you’ll meet in a bar, the she-hes make number 8.
7. Drowning in a boat on the way to or from shore – Sara and I had plans to go snorkeling one of the days on our beach trip (can I just say epic fail) and in route to the island the rains hit (in the morning!) and I think we very nearly drowned. The normally peaceful ocean turned grey, warm salty water smashed into our little dingy from the sea, cold water was pelting us from the sky. As we strapped orange life-vests to our shivering little selves, I remember thinking “this is a crappy way to go, out here in the middle of nowhere ocean, no one knowing where we are.” And then the motor of the boat died. Because only the grace the Almighty got us through that storm, death by drowning hits the top 10 list at number 7.
6. Abduction by the Khmer Rouge – while we have been lucky to have had our travels be (mostly) uneventful, the Khmer Rouge is still a significant threat in parts of the country. So, visiting the majestic mountains that rise out on the horizon is a no-go for these rather bumbling Americans. The rebels tend to stay in their mountains; as long as we avoid them, they should avoid us. But, because of their bloody past and unsure future, the Khmer Rouge lands just shy of the top 5 at number 6.
5. Unexploded landmines – Cambodia has the most unexploded landmines of ANY Southeast Asian country. Because there are so many of them, people routinely die from stepping in the wrong spot. Off-trail hiking is illegal in Cambodia because so many tourists have died over the years. And, if the landmine didn’t kill you and you survive the substandard medical care (think back to number 9), you inability to get work will probably result in death by malnutrition. The CMAC landmine detection and detonation training center is about a mile from the IRD office in Kampong Chhnang and routinely interrupts our meetings with small explosions. Because landmines are undiscriminating and can cause multiple death scenarios, they make it to the top 5.
4. Malaria medication – As Sara unfortunately discovered this past week, mis-prescribed Malaria mediation can be just as painful – and potentially lethal – as contracting the disease itself. Malaria medications have a variety of side effects, including: constipation, diarrhea, fever, hallucination, vivid dreaming, bi-polar tendencies, depression, gastritious and acid reflux. If you can survive your medication, then you’re doing well. Because Malaria medication is suppose to be preventative, and is mandatory for travel in Cambodia, it ranks as the number 4 way to die in Cambodia.
3. Malaria and Dengue Fever – if you stop taking your Malaria medication as a medical intervention, you then run the risk of contracting the very disease you were trying to prevent. Not to mention Dengue Fever, which there is no prevention for except to spray down with bug spray and pray. And don’t think OFF Deep Woods will be enough; I have learned the hard way that it merely dissuades already passive mosquitoes. The really persistent ones pay no mind to the spray. Day or night, mosquitoes present and pose a real threat, especially to foreigners who haven’t acclimated to the climate and to the prevalence of the diseases. Because of the unavoidable effects of Malaria and Dengue fever – whether preventative measures, or unfortunate contraction – this pair of diseases comes in third on our top 10 list.
2. Diarrhea – this unavoidable reality for all travelers to Cambodia is still the number one killer of children under the age of 5. Coupled with malnutrition, diarrhea is a leading factor in why there is an alarmingly high <5 mortality rate and why so many children are stunted and have growth and development problems. The prevalence of contaminated water is a direct cause of diarrhea. What’s more, as the monsoons set in, what is known as the “diarrhea season” hits like…well, you know. And, this unsavory sickness doesn’t just strike poor village farmers; your intrepid explorers are not immune to illness. Undercooked foods, vegetables washed in contaminated water, the side effects of Dengue, Malaria and Malaria medication all cause achy and incompliant bowels. Diarrhea – like landmines – is an indiscriminant way to kick the bucket (while on it). Because it pays no mind to social class, gender, nationality or job description, Diarrhea comes in as the second best (?) way to die in Cambodia.
1. Car accident – if any of my previous posts didn’t already give it away, car accidents rank as the number one most-likely and best (worst?) way to die in Cambodia. You may survive abduction, angry ocean waves, upset intestines and blistering heat but in a country without traffic laws or traffic police, death behind the wheel is unfortunately a high probability. Not to mention the whizzing moto drivers, riding helmetless through busy Phnom Penh streets. Due to poorly maintained roads, a frightening lack of accepted traffic laws and the sheer swarm of people on all manner of transport, death by car accident (or tuk-tuk crash, or moto catastrophe) is the number one most likely, best and worst way to die in Cambodia.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Rolling. Rolling. Rolling on the...Lake?
I could have just had the best day that I will have in Cambodia. Now, just to be clear – I’m not sure that it tops that day on Santorini when I rode donkeys up to the top of an island, hiked an active volcano, and four-wheeled through rural Grecian villages at sunset, only to arrive at a restaurant where I enjoyed glasses (yes, plural!) of white wine and a huge helping of moose-ka-ka – but this day was a very, and I mean very, close second. Even though both days were incredible, they were distinctly different. The fantastic-ness of this day had nothing in common with the fantastic-ness of that day in Greece. Greece made my jaw drop. Cambodia made my smile widen.
Brekke and I woke up early. That may be the only bad part, and waking up early isn’t so bad, I’m discovering. We woke up early to ride down to the river (excuse me, very large lake), to hop on a make shift canoe (excuse me, very impressive boat), and to ride out the countryside. We partnered with FFE today as they went out again on one of their puppet show adventures (Yes, I will explain. FFE, or Food For Education, is the second program that is being run out of the Kampong Chhnang office. One of the main ways they strive to serve the community is through regular school feedings, the installation of latrines, the training of teachers on nutrition and health…and puppet shows. They have a group of what I thought to be pre-teens (until I had an 18 year old profess his love for me…or my white skin, rather) helping them to put on puppet shows for local schools in order to raise awareness of the harmful practices of smoking, alcohol, and bad hygiene).
Ok, back to the canoe, I mean boat, ride. We all trekked down to the water with speakers and puppets and a cooler full of local fruit in tow. And by we, I mean two way-too-white girls who have this combo look of confusion and terror on their faces and about 10 Cambodian pre-teens who happened to NOT be helping our lack of self esteem by giggling and laughing. I’m not sure what they were laughing at exactly, seeing as how my life is one big fashion show and even in rural ASIA, I look good.
Brekke and I woke up early. That may be the only bad part, and waking up early isn’t so bad, I’m discovering. We woke up early to ride down to the river (excuse me, very large lake), to hop on a make shift canoe (excuse me, very impressive boat), and to ride out the countryside. We partnered with FFE today as they went out again on one of their puppet show adventures (Yes, I will explain. FFE, or Food For Education, is the second program that is being run out of the Kampong Chhnang office. One of the main ways they strive to serve the community is through regular school feedings, the installation of latrines, the training of teachers on nutrition and health…and puppet shows. They have a group of what I thought to be pre-teens (until I had an 18 year old profess his love for me…or my white skin, rather) helping them to put on puppet shows for local schools in order to raise awareness of the harmful practices of smoking, alcohol, and bad hygiene).
Ok, back to the canoe, I mean boat, ride. We all trekked down to the water with speakers and puppets and a cooler full of local fruit in tow. And by we, I mean two way-too-white girls who have this combo look of confusion and terror on their faces and about 10 Cambodian pre-teens who happened to NOT be helping our lack of self esteem by giggling and laughing. I’m not sure what they were laughing at exactly, seeing as how my life is one big fashion show and even in rural ASIA, I look good.
So we are on the boat. And the scenery is beautiful. Even though the lake is low and all the underbellies of the houses are exposed, the sun is shining and I can taste salt when I lick my lips. One of the pre-teens, Sohkay, and I begin talking as best we can. The sentences are small, but significant. Sohkay and I get pretty chatty and, out of nowhere, I have one of those greenish band producing diamond rings from the 4th grade on my ring finger to symbolize our sisterhood. I hold my hand up as if admiring an actual wedding ring, and she beams. Then I beam, too. We begin laughing, and I’ll have you know, the day gets even better. You make one friend in Cambodia and you might as well have made a whole group of friends. Before I knew it, I was trying to pronounce all the names of the pre-teens and they were all trying to pronounce “Sa-ra” and “Brek-ke.”
We dock the boat and climb up a water-starved hill, unloading the gear while trying to hail a tuk-tuk driver to take us out to the school (Side note- it would have been a good idea to not have been so hasty with our tuk tuk choice! But more on that fiasco later. I mean fiasco in the most endearing sense possible). After a long ride of finding out who is dating who among the pre-teens, we arrive at the school and they busily start to set up their show. Brekke and I are now really really excited to see this famed puppet show…as are the school kids streaming out of their buildings to see what all the excitement is about.
The show begins, and it is hilarious. My new found sister is the emcee and I wonder to myself why I am at all shocked. She is working the crowd and getting every single kid involved. I mean, it takes one funny girl to get kids excited about brushing their teeth. The puppets come out from behind the curtains and laughter comes out from behind the kids’ mouths. Little do they know that they are being more than entertained! Could it be? Could they be…learning? Why yes! Whoever thought of this puppet show idea was a genius.
So because we are in Cambodia, it starts to get hot. Like the kind of hot in which your deodorant has ceased working and you legitimately need to bathe again. Because it’s THAT hot during the hours of 12 and 2, Cambodia looks like a ghost town. No one dares to be outside for fear of having to bathe again. So, I look at my watch, and what do you know! It’s that time of the day and we begin packing up to head back to town. We hop in the tuk tuk, relieved to be getting some fresh air flow, only to plow into a thatched fence. And scream, I did. After a little too long of an “Oh no, we’re stranded in this hot country that eats dogs…and me if I sit here long enough!” moment, the pre-teen boys do something heroic: they get out of the tuk tuk. They push the tuk tuk back onto the road and forever prove themselves worthy of being called men.
But this tuk tuk seems to have a mind of its own. After about 11 and half minutes, it runs out of gas and putters to a stop. 11 and half minutes is coincidentally the short window of time that the pre-teens seem to hold on to their new found title as men. This time, they don’t move. Instead, they ask me to sing them a cool American pop song. What? You want me to do what!? I’m stranded here in this hot country, to the point of, heaven forbid, having to shower again, and you want me sing? To which I gladly pull out my IPod and have them listen to the BEST. SONG. EVER. No, not Cat Stevens. No, not CCR. No, not Van Morrison. So what do I choose when given the chance to make a lasting musical impression on these pre-teens? Justin Bieber. I mean, it only seems appropriate. These boys can’t prove themselves to be men, and little Justin, well he hasn’t even hit puberty yet.
The tuk tuk ride back gets even more interesting, for one of the more mature pre-teens (we called him ‘doctor’ because, well, that’s what he wants to be), begins to show signs of affection towards the fashion queen herself. He has a girlfriend, a girlfriend who is actually sitting A FEW SEATS DOWN, yet he begins to ask me what my plans are for the afternoon. I’ve been called naïve many times, but I get what he’s doing. That sneaky pre-teen is hitting on me! I think his girlfriend realizes this at the same time, for she begins to mope and sniffle. Brekke and I can’t help but laugh a little as I try to bring the conversation back to topics like…ummm…his girlfriend. But then again, how serious can they be? He can’t even get hold the title of ‘man’ for 11 minutes. Yeah, he wants to be a doctor, but move on, honey.
I’m not sure how the tuk tuk got running again, for I was busy trying to fend off my suitor. But we made it back to the boat, and back to the town, and back to the hotel. With a greenness upon my ring finger and a redness upon my nose, I’d say it was a fantastic day.
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