Reflection on Cambodia

Nathaniel was able to take two weeks off from work and travel a bit
with Nick and I. It was invaluable having time to hang out and talk
outside of the responsibilites of daily life. When in Yiliang
Nathaniel is working 7 days a week, which is normal for his company.
Business is very different here, it is very social. When the company
boss is in town Nathaniel must stay out until ten o'clock eating,
keeping him company and entertaining. The night usually begins with a
big dinner, multiple plates that everyone picks from with chopsticks,
a lot of toasting, alcohol consumption and kareoke afterwards or a
foot rub. Nick and I had the pleasure of participating in a "business
meeting" that ended with singing I will always love you and eating,
eating, eating at a KTV center. It was pretty awesome for us but
when late nights with co-workers and bosses becomes a frequent
obligation I understand why my brother sometimes hates it.

Camodia: Speak Khmer language which is made of 30 consonants and 32
vowels and dipthongs combintions! what?! However, there are no tones
like in Chinese so there is hope for the average westerner. The main
method of transportation is tuktuk (sp?) which is a small carriage
built over a moped. The tuktuk drivers can be relentless when it
comes to finding business but most will accept a firm no and a nice
buddhist bow. These drivers may also try to cheat the foreigners out
of a few bucks or two by charging more than the usual price. Though
paying an extra dollar or two may not seem like a big deal for most of
us it creates a pattern for the next foreigners who come after you and
throws the local economy off. Let's pretend I am in a hurry to get to
the bus station so I find a local tuk tuk driver and hand him the
equivalent of $10 upon arrival. A local would pay $5 for the same
trip. I have not only been a fool and overpaid but have set a new
standard. Perhps the next time this driver takes a trip to the bus
station he will ask for $10 maybe expect it. However, this time the
passenger may not be able to afford the doubled price or not know the
difference and get cheated. It seems a small act but the economic
choices of foreigners and travelers affect a communit in deep, yet
subtle ways. Traveling in Cambodia made us more aware of how we were
spending, spending wisely, and knowing where our money was going. It
is easy to become frivilous with our money and there may be times we
don't realize how our tendencies to fling money in whatever direction
instantly gratifies our needs affects other people, especially in
developing countries like Cambodia. Lonely planet warns that in
southeast asia (some places more than others) foreigners are seen as
walking ATM machines. Cambodia is still fairly innocent in this
respect (especially when compared with Vietnam). Most Cambodians
were extremely sincere and could not help but smile if you did the
buddhist bow in their direction. It was awesome.
Something very wise about my brother is how he spends money. It
was always his tendency to buy from the local mom and pop places, to
eat local, and support hard working people and see the consequence of
how one spends money.
One of the most intense moments in Cambodia came one night when we
were eating on the sidewalk outside of our hostal. A small boy came
up beside me, half hidden by a decorative plant. He said something in
Khmer but I thought he said, "Sarah." I spun around and saw his sad
face. Those of you who know me well, know that I am jumpy and get
spooked easily. I was freaked out. I kept myself from screaming. We
assumed he wanted money but probably needed food more. My brother
thought that he was probably forced to beg by an adult who was also
probably watching nearby. The initial urge is to throw the boy a few
bucks (whats a few bucks to an American?). But if we stop to think,
most likely that money will not go to the boy at all. It will go to
the adult. The best way to help that sad boy standing in front of you
is to invite him to your table and buy him the biggest plate of fried
rice you can. Most likely, this will not happen b/c the boy lacks
self confidence and is being watched. So you pack the rice in a to go
bag, smile a prayer and send him along.
If we needed a tuktuk driver my brother would ignore the guy
yelling and stalking foreigners outisde of their hotels for business
and find the driver (a bit outside of the tourist district) waiting
with a bit of dignity. Once the driver is found, no matter the
quality of the man, the first price is never the actual price and it
is assumed that both parties know this. You MUST bargain! You must
say, "This is too much" and pretend to walk away. You must give a
lower price, much lower. And wait for, "Come back! I agree."
Sometimes, we walk away and find someone else and sometimes we hear
the return and we set about our business with the fair price. It is a
game and it is so weird until you get use to it. Then, maybe, it is
fun. Case in point, there is nothing like being from a wealthy
nation traveling in a developing country to make you realize that HOW
YOU SPEND MONEY MATTERS AND IT AFFECTS PEOPLE AOROUND YOU.
Cambodia is still heavy in Buddhism and you can see it every
morning when buddhist monks pass through the streets collecting alms
from homes and businesses. They do not buy food. They are supported
by the community. Cambodians who wish to give, greet the monks
outisde with a plate of food and in return recieve a spiritual
blessing. My guide book said that monks are not allowed to touch
women so I always felt more self consicous when I was near them,
knowing my clumsy tendencies to fall and topple without intention.
Maybe a bit of was a part of me daring myself to touch a monk.
(Whatever, you know you would think that too).
Also, because society is saturated in spirituality the standard
greeting is two palms touching, a smile and a bow. It is so well
recieved here and I saw it turn dozens of hard glazes starting at me
into a warm smile with dozens of wrinkles.

Last bit: not all of Cambodia is sunshine, sweat and smiles. In the
70s there was a
horrendous genocide that most people don't know about. We went to a
place called the "Killing Fields" one day, which is just what it says.
Fields where thousands of Cambodians were killed. Some for being
part of the old political regime but many for being intelligent,
doctors, having degrees, being teachers or friends and family
associated with such people. Search "Khmer Rouge" if you're
interested in more information.

The second week of our trip was Vietnam but I do not have the energy
to give my thoughts on that place now. Thank you for reading (if you
made it this far) and caring about all of this. It feels great to
write it out and I hope you appreciate Cambodia.

China-First Week

Thursday, July 8^th

There is a temple in Yiliang at the base of the mountain that hovers to the side of the city. There is a large gate to welcome visitors and a charge of 10 yuen, between 1-2 US dollar. Workers were re painting the Budda a vibrant gold and there were a few monks scattered gardening, reading, or napping. Others were money collectors strategically located in each temple to encourage you to offer a prayer with a lit incense stick, take a wooden tablet for luck, a yellow or red ribbon for luck or write your name on a sheet of red paper to place over a miniature Budda in a plastic case for a small fee. Behind each temple was another staircase leading to another temple, winding and steep through trees and bamboo, manicured flowerpots or geraniums and the purple flower. Further up, the stone path continued and a nature path became the spiritual journey. Picnic tables dotted the trail as it continued to climb upwards until it plateaued. Glimpses of the city peeped through the breaks in the trees and dragonflies dared you to continue upwards in circular, sporadic dances. It was the mystery of what was behind the next bend and what was at the top that forced me to continue despite heat and fatigue. I did not want to miss what could have been waiting.

Before the temple, Nick and I met the class downstairs and taught a basic lesson on “red, white and blue,” the American Flag, and the alphabet. It was fun and natural for me but very frustrating without the Chinese background to give basic instructions for games or give praise. The class is structured around repetition and the desks are arranged in single rows. Some of the students seemed familiar with the procedure of hand raising. The class was big, around 35 students. This class was not for traditional school because the school year is technically over. These students are part of a cram school that meets outside of the traditional school schedule to get extra study.

The landlady who also teaches Math at the school invited us over for lunch. She lived on the top floor and it was a definite penthouse. Two story ceilings, big screen TV, white tiled floors, chandeliers, dining area. It was beautiful. We watched The New Moon on the big screen while she and some moms from the school finished preparing lunch. Maggie (bro’s gf) explained that she had been a farmer and owned some land. The government wanted her land for urban development. The government wanted a lot of people’s land and thus created a policy that anyone who gave up their land for development could have the option of constructing a building of their own somewhere in the growing city and the government would pay for 50% of it. Not too shabby. Thus, the land lady built her own building after loosing her land and farm. Rents out two floors as a school and apartments and lives in style up top.

There is a noodle here that is made from rice and not wheat. It is popular and can only be found in this area. You can order it normal or spicy, topped with chicken, wild onion greens and chopped cashews or nuts of some sort.

There is no welfare system in China. You work or you beg. There are few beggars but poverty takes it form in shared public bathrooms that empty into the river that contains the same water people use for everyday needs. In the poorer side of town the street was narrow and each door frame was a window in a random act of life. A women repairing shoes, a dentist chair and tools, a baby’s butt sticking out from pants with a big hole cut out the back (no diapers, Julie), an old lady shuffling out for a walk, men smoking, etc. It was so random and so wonderful. Then there was a door that is not for looking into; a funeral. I didn’t know so I looked in and glanced a large framed portrait with candles in front. Outside the house were large, colorful tissue paper wreaths and ashes on the street from piles of money burned for the dead in his/her after life.

Another interesting thing about this street was building for the name business. When choosing a Chinese name sometimes professional help is sought to find the name with the most significant meaning, the right amount of brush strokes, the right sound. Parents may pay for this service before a child is born or after a child is born is they feel the original name is not suitable. Maggie has legally changed her name three times since she was born. Her mother went to one of these name businesses after Maggie continued to get sick frequently. Maggie’s mother felt the original name did not suit her and was bringing bad luck so she changed names and name meanings. It is almost like a rebirth or a new hope for life or destiny. This reminds me of the name changes in the Bible when people were reborn in the Spirit, commiting their lives to God and receiving a new hope for the future, for life, for desinty. Like in Western tradition, when a bride takes the name of her husband there is new hope for a future, a new beginning. Strange that we are called the same from birth to death though in many ways we are not the same person. We are ever changing, growing, re-birthing people.

Beyond this narrow street of poverty were fields and fields of gardens. Small plots divided between corn, rice, and other things. Rows or water separate the crops and plots and irrigate everything to a healthy green. This city is small enough that some families can garden their own food. Maybe all cities in China area surrounded by family garden plots or maybe YIliang is unique because it is still growing and still changing from rural to urban. It is amazing that with so many people most of the food is grown here and that the city is nearly self-sufficient.

Nathaniel, Maggie, Nick and I walked back from the waste-water treatment plant along the main road later that night to return to the city. Like a bulls eye we began on the outermost circle and walked inward sensing a change in pace and rhythm. There is a custom here that local parks become a meeting place for large dance and Tai Chi classes. Some one will bring the music and dozens of ladies will gather in rows to dance in unison with the song. Each song has a different dance that the instructor creates and the ladies must watch and learn. The moves are simple and involve a lot of arm movements. At the park, there was a group of ladies dancing together.

China-First Week

Tuesday, June 6^th

It is very peaceful here but it is not quiet. My cousin Nick is napping on the Mickey Mouse sheets that covers his living room bed and I just ate a piece of “sweet” bread filled with coconut cream that was anything but sweet. There is no agenda for today and no heavy backpacks to transport. We have arrived at the glorious day of rest and recuperation. A day we have been looking to since early Saturday morning. Nathaniel lives in an apartment on the 3^rd floor of a rectangular brick building. The street that takes you to these rectangular brick building is dried mud and dust with broken tile and brick pieces littering the sides. There is a dog barking (typical), distant cars, a whistle and lots of chatter. There are people everywhere in every corner and within earshot in any direction. It is considered “out there” but is still a large urban area. We have not reached rural yet. On the 2^nd floor of this rectangular brick building is a school where the landlady teaches with a microphone and lots of repetition. I can tell from their repetitions that they are young. Their echos blow in through our windows with a gentle breeze. The climate is ideal, cool and sunny year round.

From the window I see a mud-bricked house with a tiled roof that dates back to the Ming dynasty in the early 20^th century. Beside it is a larger white tiled apartment building with multiple balconies and several glass paned windows. But before we continue here let us recall the details of your journey here so as to not forget.

Arriving at Hong Kong International Airport was a treat. We still existed and moved in an artificial, comfort world of English translations and air conditioning. Nathaniel was there to meet us and buy our tickets for the train that would take us into Kowloon, which is just across the bay from Hong Kong and the cheaper option for lodging. Besides, the trains to Shenzhen had already closed for the night. From the train station we walked to our hostel on Nathan St. Kowloon at midnight was warm and peaceful and empty until we reached the area around Nathan St. There were a lot of Chinese and Africans hanging around asking us if we needed lodging for the night. Finding our hostel was a bit of a scavenger hunt, mazing through a tall building until we found the door to our hostel, three beds in a tiny room.

Rolex advertisments, Lacoste, Prada, Starbucks and more of the same are the essence of this part of town. There is a hotel called The Peninsula that is top class with private chaeuffers in Bentleys. For the most part the city is very clean and we only saw four people sleeping on the street that night. Two were a couple, nicely clothed with a suitcase that seemed to be waiting for the morning to come. The Bay was an instant cessation to the humid heat with a quick water breeze.

A shower is a small tiled room shared with the toilet, which is a porcelin urenil in the ground. Toliet paper is never provided. The showerhead detaches from the wall and sprays water. There is a small sink in the corner space for teeth brushing. The ultimate three in one combination.

From Kowloon we caught a train to take us across the border into Shenzhen, China. This is a place filled with more local stuff like restaurants and smaller stores. It is also home to some pretty large markets callings out, “Pretty lady, you need manicure? Handsome man, buy shirt.” There is also a mall called “Rainbow” with goods and clothing that look pretty much the same as the markets but are quadruple the price, at least. There is a small amusement park with a tiled gold fish pond for pole fishing and lots of rides that twirl. By dusk we are boarding a bus that will take us to Shenzhen International Airport. We arrive just in time.

We stay the night outside of Kunming and catch a bus in the morning for Ilianshu. It is here we catch a breathe and rest. It is here we slumber in a noisy peace.