A final whirlwind weekend. Seeing the royal palace, saying goodbye to friends and "family" (when you are close friends, Khmer people call you their brothers and sisters), going to my first ex-pat house party, and packing.
It's a boiling day here in Phnom Penh: intense sun, a light breeze, and slower movement.
A wonderful older American couple had me over for a drink, and we watched the boats go up the river, and talked about the future.
Things look promising.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Friday, March 28, 2008
Friday Evening at the Pools
One night, two pools.
After work, the Swedes and I went to the Olympic stadium. She ran, we swam. A massive pool, only a few people in the water.
Within twenty minutes, the pool was completely empty. The light was evening blue, and bats swooped down over the surface of the water as we did slow laps.
An excellent terrace dinner followed, marvelous marinated chicken, potatoes, fine scotch, Swiss chocolate, dragon fruit, slow pace.
At 11, we took a motorcycle to a private boutique hotel and swimming club. While it was technically closed, the guard let us in and brought us towels. Under the stars and a beautiful neo-colonial villa, we swam in the small, well-lit water. The pool was surrounded by palm trees, and completely deserted.
From beneath the surface, the underwater lights tinted green. I swam towards the green light, the waters silent.
After work, the Swedes and I went to the Olympic stadium. She ran, we swam. A massive pool, only a few people in the water.
Within twenty minutes, the pool was completely empty. The light was evening blue, and bats swooped down over the surface of the water as we did slow laps.
An excellent terrace dinner followed, marvelous marinated chicken, potatoes, fine scotch, Swiss chocolate, dragon fruit, slow pace.
At 11, we took a motorcycle to a private boutique hotel and swimming club. While it was technically closed, the guard let us in and brought us towels. Under the stars and a beautiful neo-colonial villa, we swam in the small, well-lit water. The pool was surrounded by palm trees, and completely deserted.
From beneath the surface, the underwater lights tinted green. I swam towards the green light, the waters silent.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Memorable Southeast Asian Experiences
Looking back on my time in Cambodia, Laos, Vietnam, and Thailand, here are some of the moments that stand out in my memory.
-Listening to Rock-and-Roll on the back of a Speeding Motorcycle.
-Having my driver sing happy birthday to me, with creative lyrics.
-Dancing in the early hours of the morning at a Laotian Nightclub
-Finding an old Latvian Coin in a Phnom Penh Market
-Riding an Elephant down a mountain in Siem Reap in the setting sun, with the elephant driver playing a thin melody using a blade of grass.
-Lying on the prow of a boat, going up the river.
-Swimming in a deserted pool under the stars inside a gorgeous colonial villa.
-Running in the Olympic stadium, the setting sun at my back.
-Watching a fire-juggling show on a Thai Island, with paper lanterns lifting off from the beach
-Listening to Rock-and-Roll on the back of a Speeding Motorcycle.
-Having my driver sing happy birthday to me, with creative lyrics.
-Dancing in the early hours of the morning at a Laotian Nightclub
-Finding an old Latvian Coin in a Phnom Penh Market
-Riding an Elephant down a mountain in Siem Reap in the setting sun, with the elephant driver playing a thin melody using a blade of grass.
-Lying on the prow of a boat, going up the river.
-Swimming in a deserted pool under the stars inside a gorgeous colonial villa.
-Running in the Olympic stadium, the setting sun at my back.
-Watching a fire-juggling show on a Thai Island, with paper lanterns lifting off from the beach
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Returning to Phnom Penh
After a 6 and 1/2 hour bus ride, i'm back in Phnom Penh. It's quieter than Saigon, and a bit more manageable.
I've checked into my last guesthouse for this stay: I've tried six different places in Phnom Penh.
After work, I had a long dinner with my Swedish friends at Comme La Maison, a well-known French restaurant. It's a tasteful and low-key place, which was perfect after jumping back into work.
I'm happy to be back in Phnom Penh, and ambivalent about returning home to New York.
New York: Cooler weather, a (arguably) faster pace, and a return to friends and family, but also the a loss of the new life and friends i've found and made here.
I've checked into my last guesthouse for this stay: I've tried six different places in Phnom Penh.
After work, I had a long dinner with my Swedish friends at Comme La Maison, a well-known French restaurant. It's a tasteful and low-key place, which was perfect after jumping back into work.
I'm happy to be back in Phnom Penh, and ambivalent about returning home to New York.
New York: Cooler weather, a (arguably) faster pace, and a return to friends and family, but also the a loss of the new life and friends i've found and made here.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Adventures in Uncle Ho's City
I've spent two days seeing the sights in Ho Chi Minh City, including:
-The Re-Unification palace. A giant estate with a palace from the 1960's. A conservative and unimpressive exterior style but a generally tasteful interior. Highlights included the exhibit on the Tet offensive (the Vietcong had a mole inside palace), the President's war bedroom, and the private Swedish furnished movie theater.
-The War Remnants Museum. Lots of American military equipment and vehicles gleaming outside in the warm SE Asian sun. Pro-photographer (extensive exhibit on war photographers, which depicted them as the unsung heros), not so positive about American Imperialism, Lyndon Johnson, or former Senator Bob Kerrey (a whole wall devoted to the special forces massacre that he led). Most horrifying was the exhibit on chemical warfare.
-The Cathedral, which was called Notre Dame on a tourist flier. The inverse of the palace, aesthetically.
-Some Buddhist/Chinese-looking pagodas. Smokey, dark, quiet. Angkor Wat sets the bar pretty high for religious sites.
-Three Markets: one with mass-produced cheap goods for locals, one with extremely overpriced items for tourists, and one small commercial trading area. These markets were less interesting places than those in Cambodia. Vietnam is more commercial, accustomed to Tourists, and seems to have higher price levels (for all things).
-The Post Office. It's was a Post Office. There was a giant painting of Uncle Ho that was nice, but otherwise unimpressive.
I had my first woman driver in SE Asia, maybe ever. She spoke one word of English (okay) and was very amiable. She had a sun hat-helmet combo that was pretty clever.
A man named Mr. Zippo sold me some coins and showed me his enormous collection of SE Asian paper money. He told me that had been in the Southern Vietnamese Army, and gave me his business card.
I find old men to be the friendliest Vietnamese I meet. I sometimes stop and talk to Moto drivers who are trying to pick up customers. They tend to be gentle and kind.
-The Re-Unification palace. A giant estate with a palace from the 1960's. A conservative and unimpressive exterior style but a generally tasteful interior. Highlights included the exhibit on the Tet offensive (the Vietcong had a mole inside palace), the President's war bedroom, and the private Swedish furnished movie theater.
-The War Remnants Museum. Lots of American military equipment and vehicles gleaming outside in the warm SE Asian sun. Pro-photographer (extensive exhibit on war photographers, which depicted them as the unsung heros), not so positive about American Imperialism, Lyndon Johnson, or former Senator Bob Kerrey (a whole wall devoted to the special forces massacre that he led). Most horrifying was the exhibit on chemical warfare.
-The Cathedral, which was called Notre Dame on a tourist flier. The inverse of the palace, aesthetically.
-Some Buddhist/Chinese-looking pagodas. Smokey, dark, quiet. Angkor Wat sets the bar pretty high for religious sites.
 |
| Holiday in Old Saigon |
-The Post Office. It's was a Post Office. There was a giant painting of Uncle Ho that was nice, but otherwise unimpressive.
I had my first woman driver in SE Asia, maybe ever. She spoke one word of English (okay) and was very amiable. She had a sun hat-helmet combo that was pretty clever.
A man named Mr. Zippo sold me some coins and showed me his enormous collection of SE Asian paper money. He told me that had been in the Southern Vietnamese Army, and gave me his business card.
I find old men to be the friendliest Vietnamese I meet. I sometimes stop and talk to Moto drivers who are trying to pick up customers. They tend to be gentle and kind.
Adventures in Uncle Ho's City
I've spent two days seeing the sights in Ho Chi Minh City, including:
-The Re-Unification palace. A giant estate with a palace from the 1960's. A conservative and unimpressive exterior style but a generally tasteful interior. Highlights included the exhibit on the Tet offensive (the Vietcong had a mole inside palace), the President's war bedroom, and the private Swedish furnished movie theater.
-The War Remnants Museum. Lots of American military equipment and vehicles gleaming outside in the warm SE Asian sun. Pro-photographer (extensive exhibit on war photographers, which depicted them as the unsung heros), not so positive about American Imperialism, Lyndon Johnson, or former Senator Bob Kerrey (a whole wall devoted to the special forces massacre that he led). Most horrifying was the exhibit on chemical warfare.
-The Cathedral, which was called Notre Dame on a tourist flier. The inverse of the palace, aesthetically.
-Some Buddhist/Chinese-looking pagodas. Smokey, dark, quiet. Angkor Wat sets the bar pretty high for religious sites.
-Three Markets: one with mass-produced cheap goods for locals, one with extremely overpriced items for tourists, and one small commercial trading area. These markets were less interesting places than those in Cambodia. Vietnam is more commercial, accustomed to Tourists, and seems to have higher price levels (for all things).
-The Post Office. It's was a Post Office. There was a giant painting of Uncle Ho that was nice, but otherwise unimpressive.
I had my first woman driver in SE Asia, maybe ever. She spoke one word of English (okay) and was very amiable. She had a sun hat-helmet combo that was pretty clever.
A man named Mr. Zippo sold me some coins and showed me his enormous collection of SE Asian paper money. He told me that had been in the Southern Vietnamese Army, and gave me his business card.
I find old men to be the friendliest Vietnamese I meet. I sometimes stop and talk to Moto drivers who are trying to pick up customers.
-The Re-Unification palace. A giant estate with a palace from the 1960's. A conservative and unimpressive exterior style but a generally tasteful interior. Highlights included the exhibit on the Tet offensive (the Vietcong had a mole inside palace), the President's war bedroom, and the private Swedish furnished movie theater.
-The War Remnants Museum. Lots of American military equipment and vehicles gleaming outside in the warm SE Asian sun. Pro-photographer (extensive exhibit on war photographers, which depicted them as the unsung heros), not so positive about American Imperialism, Lyndon Johnson, or former Senator Bob Kerrey (a whole wall devoted to the special forces massacre that he led). Most horrifying was the exhibit on chemical warfare.
-The Cathedral, which was called Notre Dame on a tourist flier. The inverse of the palace, aesthetically.
-Some Buddhist/Chinese-looking pagodas. Smokey, dark, quiet. Angkor Wat sets the bar pretty high for religious sites.
-Three Markets: one with mass-produced cheap goods for locals, one with extremely overpriced items for tourists, and one small commercial trading area. These markets were less interesting places than those in Cambodia. Vietnam is more commercial, accustomed to Tourists, and seems to have higher price levels (for all things).
-The Post Office. It's was a Post Office. There was a giant painting of Uncle Ho that was nice, but otherwise unimpressive.
I had my first woman driver in SE Asia, maybe ever. She spoke one word of English (okay) and was very amiable. She had a sun hat-helmet combo that was pretty clever.
A man named Mr. Zippo sold me some coins and showed me his enormous collection of SE Asian paper money. He told me that had been in the Southern Vietnamese Army, and gave me his business card.
I find old men to be the friendliest Vietnamese I meet. I sometimes stop and talk to Moto drivers who are trying to pick up customers.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Notes from Saigon
Saigon.
The first thing you notice is the traffic.
The streets crawling with motorcycles, only they don't crawl. It's a fast parade.
Saigon begins with a semi-traumatic taxi ride: a confused driver, an even more confused passenger, and a meter that thinks it's a rocket. Prices jump from 14000 to 20000 as we take the long route around town, and then from 114 to 150. The increase in numbers seems to be accelerating.When we finally arrive at a hotel (not the one where i'd made the reservation, as this one has no record of me) I have a slightly negative impression of the city.
After a reasoned confrontation over his amphetimized meter, the concierge tries to broker a deal, escalating into a threat of future attack by him and his friends when I leave the hotel. I conceed and fork over slightly less than $20, which is something like 300,000 dong.
In the evening, I walk around the backpacker district. It is throbbing with locals out on the street drinking beer, pairs of tourists slinking around self-conciously, and composed of countless shops, bars, restaurants, and art galleries.
Saigon is clearly a night city, more than anywhere else i've been in SE Asia.
I sit at a Kebab stand for a two hours, joined by two dutch sisters who tell me about traveling in India. They come from a city outside Amsterdam that sounds vaguely like Harlem. They are very nice: experienced but not jaded travelers.
Then I strike up a (or am strucken up with) conversation with a lively australian swimming instructor from Melbourne. He offers a colorful lecture on seducing thai women, which goes on for two hours.
We hang out with the guys who own and run the Kebab stand, the prices falling and the portions increasing. I stupidly ask about the face on the money, which is Ho Chi Minh, of course.
"Uncle Ho," I reply. The owner leans in and whispers "my brother."
I suggest that we are brothers, which makes me related to Ho Chi Minh. He likes this and we shake hands.
I pay for my kebab (15000 dong, less than a dollar), and walk back to the hotel.
The first thing you notice is the traffic.
The streets crawling with motorcycles, only they don't crawl. It's a fast parade.
Saigon begins with a semi-traumatic taxi ride: a confused driver, an even more confused passenger, and a meter that thinks it's a rocket. Prices jump from 14000 to 20000 as we take the long route around town, and then from 114 to 150. The increase in numbers seems to be accelerating.When we finally arrive at a hotel (not the one where i'd made the reservation, as this one has no record of me) I have a slightly negative impression of the city.
After a reasoned confrontation over his amphetimized meter, the concierge tries to broker a deal, escalating into a threat of future attack by him and his friends when I leave the hotel. I conceed and fork over slightly less than $20, which is something like 300,000 dong.
In the evening, I walk around the backpacker district. It is throbbing with locals out on the street drinking beer, pairs of tourists slinking around self-conciously, and composed of countless shops, bars, restaurants, and art galleries.
Saigon is clearly a night city, more than anywhere else i've been in SE Asia.
I sit at a Kebab stand for a two hours, joined by two dutch sisters who tell me about traveling in India. They come from a city outside Amsterdam that sounds vaguely like Harlem. They are very nice: experienced but not jaded travelers.
Then I strike up a (or am strucken up with) conversation with a lively australian swimming instructor from Melbourne. He offers a colorful lecture on seducing thai women, which goes on for two hours.
We hang out with the guys who own and run the Kebab stand, the prices falling and the portions increasing. I stupidly ask about the face on the money, which is Ho Chi Minh, of course.
"Uncle Ho," I reply. The owner leans in and whispers "my brother."
I suggest that we are brothers, which makes me related to Ho Chi Minh. He likes this and we shake hands.
I pay for my kebab (15000 dong, less than a dollar), and walk back to the hotel.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Off to Vietnam!
I'm a two weeks behind in blogging, due to travel and catching up at work.
I've been back in Phnom Penh for two nights. The city which seems to be getting hotter by the minute, but it was wonderful to be back "home."
Tomorrow, I'm off to Saigon for a few days.
I've been back in Phnom Penh for two nights. The city which seems to be getting hotter by the minute, but it was wonderful to be back "home."
Tomorrow, I'm off to Saigon for a few days.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Going up the river
I took a boat from Battambang to Siem Reap. It's an all-day affair, since the water is low and the journey slow.
A group of 15 euro-backpackers and I sit in the back of a pickup truck for an hour as we make our way to the river. It's a bumpy, roller-coaster of a ride, and we cut through farming fields with squash and rice.
I sit in the back and talk to an Albertan insomniac who works in a Cedar mill. His main concern is globalization, and he's deeply pessimistic about the economy.
Finally, we get to the river and board a thin, dirty, covered boat.
The motor roars as we go up the muddy river, the bank of the shore exposed like an open wound. Our boat creates waves, which recede, leaving minnows (and a few big fish) flapping around on the bank.
It's a slow trip, and not too pleasant. The motor breaks down here and there.
Then it starts to rain, hard. We unroll the side flaps, but the water is everywhere.
We sit in silence, the rain poring in, the motor roaring, moving slowly up a muddy river, thinking the same thought: "why didn't I just take the bus?"
Then, the river widens and reach a floating rest stop as the rain clears.
We greatfully leave the boat and plunder the rest stop. They serve us coffee, sandwiches, cheese, candy, and pastries. We inhale the food as the sun comes out. The swiss and German take out their cigarettes and all is right in the universe.
We spend the next six hours going up the river, which is wider. There are small fishing boats all around, and we pass the fishing villages, nets, and sorting centers.
The children wave and shout at us from the bank. I lay on the prow of the boat, taking in the scene through my camera and taking pictures.
When we arrive at the Tonle Sap lake, the water is serene. Unbroken silver, with small fishing huts/stations here and there.
Someone is singing a song, to the tune of Bob Dylan's "shelter from the storm."
We're going the river, to get to old Siem Reap
the sun is hidden behind the clouds, and the water ain't so deep
passing fishing villagers in boats that look forlorn,
the rain is gone and the breeze is cool, on an uneventful morn.
the nets of fate have been cast, and the catch is reeling in
the birds are circlin' overhead to celebrate our sin,
the future's not on the river, but the past had had it's way
with the people in these dirty boats the live from day to day
we're going up the river, to get to old siem reap,
the sun is stuck behind the clouds, and the water's getting deep.
A group of 15 euro-backpackers and I sit in the back of a pickup truck for an hour as we make our way to the river. It's a bumpy, roller-coaster of a ride, and we cut through farming fields with squash and rice.
I sit in the back and talk to an Albertan insomniac who works in a Cedar mill. His main concern is globalization, and he's deeply pessimistic about the economy.
Finally, we get to the river and board a thin, dirty, covered boat.
The motor roars as we go up the muddy river, the bank of the shore exposed like an open wound. Our boat creates waves, which recede, leaving minnows (and a few big fish) flapping around on the bank.
It's a slow trip, and not too pleasant. The motor breaks down here and there.
Then it starts to rain, hard. We unroll the side flaps, but the water is everywhere.
We sit in silence, the rain poring in, the motor roaring, moving slowly up a muddy river, thinking the same thought: "why didn't I just take the bus?"
Then, the river widens and reach a floating rest stop as the rain clears.
We greatfully leave the boat and plunder the rest stop. They serve us coffee, sandwiches, cheese, candy, and pastries. We inhale the food as the sun comes out. The swiss and German take out their cigarettes and all is right in the universe.
We spend the next six hours going up the river, which is wider. There are small fishing boats all around, and we pass the fishing villages, nets, and sorting centers.
The children wave and shout at us from the bank. I lay on the prow of the boat, taking in the scene through my camera and taking pictures.
When we arrive at the Tonle Sap lake, the water is serene. Unbroken silver, with small fishing huts/stations here and there.
Someone is singing a song, to the tune of Bob Dylan's "shelter from the storm."
We're going the river, to get to old Siem Reap
the sun is hidden behind the clouds, and the water ain't so deep
passing fishing villagers in boats that look forlorn,
the rain is gone and the breeze is cool, on an uneventful morn.
the nets of fate have been cast, and the catch is reeling in
the birds are circlin' overhead to celebrate our sin,
the future's not on the river, but the past had had it's way
with the people in these dirty boats the live from day to day
we're going up the river, to get to old siem reap,
the sun is stuck behind the clouds, and the water's getting deep.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Slow Day on the River
DDD's Battambang office is located right on the river. The building was built by an influential military officer who was assassinated by Khmer Rouge paramilitaries in 1995.
I arrived at the office in the morning, and addressed the group briefly (in my limited Khmer) during the main staff meeting.
We had a nice Khmer lunch at a restaurant close to the office, during which we discussed the Peace Corps. "What is this peace corps?" my Cambodian colleagues asked. I told them about John F. Kennedy (Kennedy seems to be coming up a lot recently, Jackie O. went to Angkor Wat, and someone wanted to know why the airport in NY is called JFK) and Americans working around the globe with people from other countries. "It's sort of a diplomatic project," I explained. "To show people that Americans are nice people and want to help others."
"Ah, so that's why your troops invaded Iraq."
Well, sort of.
We all had a good laugh, but I quickly recovered my diplomatic tone, mentioning Barack Obama candidacy, opposition to the war, and alternative foreign policy.
After a motorcycle tour of town, I had a phone conversation with the Chair of Democrats Abroad in Cambodia. Turns out that he went to high school (Punahou) with "Barry" Obama, as he was then called.
After work, I had dinner with a young and energetic couple who are in Peace Corps, the first group to enter Cambodia (2007-2009). She teaches teachers, which is pretty important in Cambodia, and talked all about the the challenges of the education system post-Khmer Rouge. He teaches english, but has been getting more involved with DDD, which a huge boost for the organization.
The Corps couple told me a terrific story about a guy they know, the "Khmer Homer Simpson" and his cockfighter (rooster). The rooster woke them up one morning at 4AM, running in the room in which they were sleeping.
But they had the last laugh: the rooster later picked a fight with one of the neighborhood dogs. They weren't eating dog that night.
They told me that the rooster was extremely tasty, maybe the best chicken they'd ever had.
Later in the evening, I ordered in: noodles and beef at 11pm. 10,000r ($2.50) for two large containers of noodles, beef, fried eggs, etc. I gave the delivery guy a 1000r tip ($.25), for which he thanked me profusely. Tipping is not so customary in Cambodia.
Twenty minutes later, there was another knock on my door. It was a man who wanted 2000r. His English was poor, and my Khmer is limited, so it was a strange conversation. I think he wanted to take me to the night market to get food, and was offering to do it for 2000r.
He ended up telling me that we'd do it tommorow after I walked downstairs with him to find a translator.
No sign of him today.
I arrived at the office in the morning, and addressed the group briefly (in my limited Khmer) during the main staff meeting.
We had a nice Khmer lunch at a restaurant close to the office, during which we discussed the Peace Corps. "What is this peace corps?" my Cambodian colleagues asked. I told them about John F. Kennedy (Kennedy seems to be coming up a lot recently, Jackie O. went to Angkor Wat, and someone wanted to know why the airport in NY is called JFK) and Americans working around the globe with people from other countries. "It's sort of a diplomatic project," I explained. "To show people that Americans are nice people and want to help others."
"Ah, so that's why your troops invaded Iraq."
Well, sort of.
We all had a good laugh, but I quickly recovered my diplomatic tone, mentioning Barack Obama candidacy, opposition to the war, and alternative foreign policy.
After a motorcycle tour of town, I had a phone conversation with the Chair of Democrats Abroad in Cambodia. Turns out that he went to high school (Punahou) with "Barry" Obama, as he was then called.
After work, I had dinner with a young and energetic couple who are in Peace Corps, the first group to enter Cambodia (2007-2009). She teaches teachers, which is pretty important in Cambodia, and talked all about the the challenges of the education system post-Khmer Rouge. He teaches english, but has been getting more involved with DDD, which a huge boost for the organization.
The Corps couple told me a terrific story about a guy they know, the "Khmer Homer Simpson" and his cockfighter (rooster). The rooster woke them up one morning at 4AM, running in the room in which they were sleeping.
But they had the last laugh: the rooster later picked a fight with one of the neighborhood dogs. They weren't eating dog that night.
They told me that the rooster was extremely tasty, maybe the best chicken they'd ever had.
Later in the evening, I ordered in: noodles and beef at 11pm. 10,000r ($2.50) for two large containers of noodles, beef, fried eggs, etc. I gave the delivery guy a 1000r tip ($.25), for which he thanked me profusely. Tipping is not so customary in Cambodia.
Twenty minutes later, there was another knock on my door. It was a man who wanted 2000r. His English was poor, and my Khmer is limited, so it was a strange conversation. I think he wanted to take me to the night market to get food, and was offering to do it for 2000r.
He ended up telling me that we'd do it tommorow after I walked downstairs with him to find a translator.
No sign of him today.
When you're in Battambang, try the Frog!
Battambang is Cambodia's second largest city, a Northwestern agricultural center due to its proximity to the Thai border. The city is famous for its exported rice (to Thailand), which is the best in Cambodia. Rice is the staple of the Cambodian diet: a meal without rice isn't really a meal. The exportation of Battambang's rice leads to complaints from Phnom Penh residents, who say that they have to eat inferior rice.
View Larger Map
Battambang means "loss of stick" in Khmer, which refers to a complicated legend involving a king and his staff. The city has a population of about 250,000 (2006 estimate). Battambang is cooler and quieter than Phnom Penh, which is a nice change of pace. I'm staying in a hotel called Khemera, which has nothing do with a camera (its a derivation of Khmer, meaning Cambodian). The hotel is cheap and fancy, with wonderful high-pressure showers and free good-speed internet in your room.
After arriving last night, my DDD colleagues and I went to a local restaurant for dinner. We ate roasted frog, which was delicious. Tastes like chicken, only better. Juicy white meat, easy to eat, great legs.
Much better than tarantulas.
Off to the Provinces...
I'm off to visit DDD's office in the Battambang Province, famous for its rice and malaria. Thanks to a French-Khmer co-worker, I have a camera, and will hopefully be posting pictures.
This weekend, I will make way to Siem Reap to visit Angkor Wat, the largest religious site in the world.
In many ways, Angkor Wat is the birthplace of DDD. More on this later.
This weekend, I will make way to Siem Reap to visit Angkor Wat, the largest religious site in the world.
In many ways, Angkor Wat is the birthplace of DDD. More on this later.
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Other Cambodia: The Beach Party without the Beach
The Cambodiana Hotel is Phnom Penh's most expensive hotel, according moto drivers, who quote nightly rates as high as $4000 a night. It's a massive and imposing structure that dominates the riverside, a symbol of power and affluence.
I've only passed the Cambodiana, admiring it from the back of a motorcycle. As an ex-pat NGO worker, i'm somewhere between the "two Cambodias." I spend most of my time working and hanging out with Cambodians without political influence, wealth, and family connections. On the other hand, I sleep in a comfortable guesthouse, often dine at nice restaurants, and can freely interact with foreigners. I'm not chauffeured in a black Lexus SUV (with LEXUS smeared across the sides giant letters) or trademark Mercedes-Benz with darkened windows, but I do take a Tuk-Tuk once in a while (a co-worker once described a Tuk-Tuk as a motorcycle with chariot-welded onto the back. Padded cart is more appropriate, but it's a good image).
The Cambodians I know are either openly resentful or quietly envious of the "other Cambodia." They are also curious. Sharing this wary curiosity, I decided to join some friends in attending a giant "Beach Party" thrown at the Cambodiana.
The party took place in the Hotel's backyard, a large strip of land on the river. Hundreds (maybe thousands) of coiffed, well-dressed Cambodians sat at tables bordering the large dance floor, with a DJ playing pounding American music (almost completely up to date). A handful of foreigners worked the dance floor as I arrived, watched by the seated masses.
Later on, there were performances by a funky American band (with a Congolese guitarist wearing a pinstriped Zoot suit), Khmer dancers, and a troup of live hip-hop dancers.
Multiple floodlights sped through the air, hitting the dance floor and lighting up the evening.
At midnight, there was a raffle, which no one proceeded to win. This was mildly entertaining.
I don't know if I learned anything about Cambodia's elite. They don't seem like big dancers.
I've only passed the Cambodiana, admiring it from the back of a motorcycle. As an ex-pat NGO worker, i'm somewhere between the "two Cambodias." I spend most of my time working and hanging out with Cambodians without political influence, wealth, and family connections. On the other hand, I sleep in a comfortable guesthouse, often dine at nice restaurants, and can freely interact with foreigners. I'm not chauffeured in a black Lexus SUV (with LEXUS smeared across the sides giant letters) or trademark Mercedes-Benz with darkened windows, but I do take a Tuk-Tuk once in a while (a co-worker once described a Tuk-Tuk as a motorcycle with chariot-welded onto the back. Padded cart is more appropriate, but it's a good image).
The Cambodians I know are either openly resentful or quietly envious of the "other Cambodia." They are also curious. Sharing this wary curiosity, I decided to join some friends in attending a giant "Beach Party" thrown at the Cambodiana.
The party took place in the Hotel's backyard, a large strip of land on the river. Hundreds (maybe thousands) of coiffed, well-dressed Cambodians sat at tables bordering the large dance floor, with a DJ playing pounding American music (almost completely up to date). A handful of foreigners worked the dance floor as I arrived, watched by the seated masses.
Later on, there were performances by a funky American band (with a Congolese guitarist wearing a pinstriped Zoot suit), Khmer dancers, and a troup of live hip-hop dancers.
Multiple floodlights sped through the air, hitting the dance floor and lighting up the evening.
At midnight, there was a raffle, which no one proceeded to win. This was mildly entertaining.
I don't know if I learned anything about Cambodia's elite. They don't seem like big dancers.
Bagel Oppurtunity
begin forwarded message:
From: Raphael Magarik
Date: February 28, 2008 11:43:12 PM EST
Subject: Bagel Opportunity
Dear Sir,
based on the information gathered from the KOSHER KITCHEN and the BAGEL industry, I have the privilege to request for your assistance to transfer the sum of $47,500,000.00 in LOX BULLION into your accounts. The above LOX resulted from an OVER-TOASTED BAGEL, executed, commissioned and paid for about five years ago by a foreign contractor operating under the name WHITEFISH. The CREAM CHEESE has been waiting for you in a suspended account at the central bank of Nigeria, Slifka bank.
If you are willing to accept the transfer, we are prepared to split the BAGEL as following: POPPY SEED for you, SESAME for us, and ONION bagels to cover incidental international expenses (bribing the Kosher Kitchen PRESIDENT). The transfer is risk free on both sides: I am a certified chef with the Slifka Cooperative Association for Meals (SCAM). Regrettably, at this time we are in need of some money to cover certain TOMATOES and ONIONS and entry permits so that you can retrieve the money. If you enclose a check for $1000, we can get this process moving
PLEASE REPLY URGENTLY
BEST REGARDS
Raphael Magarik
SCAM director for outreach
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