Cambodia Makes Me Laugh

I’m really glad I visited Cambodia, but my memories will always be poignant (for reasons fully explicated in blog entry titled “Cambodia Makes Me Sad”) than awed by the incredible beauty of Angkor Wat.

Sihanoukville was incredibly beautiful and relaxed; the ocean was a gorgeous shade of greenish turquoise. Phnom Penh’s lake district was simultaneously scummy and beautiful (as long as you didn’t look at the scum… which took the form of garbage floating on the lake, men offering motorcycle rides who loafed on the street corners, and perverts who leered at ladies as they passed). The amusements of Cambodia include pickups loaded to twice their height and width with unidentified cargo, and topped with 4-8 passengers, riding high above the pitted roads. Our pickup truck driver laughed maniacally for a solid two hours, as we passengers fumed and sweated and occasionally, threatened to jump out of the truck. He didn’t understand a word we said.

Phnom Penh is a dusty city; crowded, polluted, and HOT. Undoubtedly, the markets there are some of the most interesting I’ve seen in SE Asia (deep fried tarantulas and baby chicks—as snacks, the infringement of just about every single copyright given in a Western country, and the sheer people-watching joy). The Killing Fields, like Angkor Wat, were spoilt by the omniscient presence of beggars and vendors, who had a sixth sense for the presence of tourists. (At one of the temples near Angkor Wat, I actually bicycled around the outside of the temple to avoid the horde at the entrance; I had no sooner locked the bicycle when I heard the pitter-patter of children running to greet me.) It’s also hard to be properly somber about seeing skulls excavated from mass graves of genocidal origin when guards are warning you about child beggars and one dog is attacking a double-dog (two dogs connected at the back leg) on the steps behind you.

I adored opening a Sihanoukville newspaper to be confronted with an ad that read, “SEX” in large letters, followed by “Why are you looking here for sex? We don’t have any sex here, only advertisers. Join southern Cambodia’s finest establishments in advertising in the Sihanoukville Advertiser today!!!”

The young Cambodian men were charming as they carefully sounded out “Hello. How are you? My name is John. What is your name?” without awaiting response, and without understanding the response when it came. Indeed, they then laughed nervously and fled. Lastly, I wrote most of this in my journal in a café without cut-out stars and moons in primary colors adorning the ceiling, while Asian pop blared from the speakers, competing with the fake “waterfall” in the window display. (All of these details distracted from the pink and white “marble” tiled floors, dusty pink pleather booths, hot pink painted walls, and fluorescent green lighting.) The staff sat in the seating area watching WWF on the television. Are you surprised to hear about WWF making it to Cambodia? My snack at this café included Taiwanese bubble tea and biscotti. Globalization works in funny ways.