Every morning this week, I've made a list of things to do that day. And every day, I've completed every item except one, which then gets moved to the following day's list. The same item every day - "blog" - has been shuffled from Monday to Tuesday to Wednesday and now to Thursday's list, though I can almost guarantee that I won't end up writing a "real" blog entry today based on time limitations. [True enough - I worked on this on Thursday but did not finish it until Friday.]
The good news is that I now have some minor time limitations - I'm getting busier again. After that first December week of basking in the joy of unemployment, then another week in which the glow wore off but I savored the rare experience of doing nothing, I descended into a pit of inertia and ennui that lasted far too long. A couple of weeks ago, I gave myself a kick in the ass and got off the hammock long enough to start really thinking about what I should do - which coincided nicely with some opportunities that presented themselves, as opportunities often do when we're ready for them. So more details to follow another time, but it looks like I have a couple of nicely part-time "jobs" that will provide me with much better balance between inertia and frenetic momentum.
In the meantime, I've been playing around with my new camera, trying to remember that the things I see every day are not the same things that
you see every day, and hoping to capture some interesting shots.
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A bike ride outside of town provides new sights and sounds
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I have missed a number of amusing photos this week, mostly shots of people carrying seemingly impossible things on motorbikes. (Meaning it would seem impossible to carry such things, not impossible that such things exist.) Imagine the typical Cambodian motorbike, a 100 or 125 cc Honda scooter. You may have seen my shot of seven people on one moto, and long ago in a previous blog I posted my best shots of live pigs and chickens and eggs on motos, so I shouldn't really be surprised any more by what can be transported on one. But there are still occasional surprises.
In one example, I saw two men, one driving and the other sitting behind him. Between them was a huge sheet of plate glass standing upright and extending several feet from side to side, like a huge glass sandwich spilling out of its two slices of man-shaped bread. The man in back had the job of holding the edges of the glass, which required his arms to be fully outstretched. I can't imagine the aerodynamics that were involved - the glass must have acted as a giant sail trying to push them off in one direction or another, but they forged ahead without any obvious struggle.
[This is where I would put the moto pictures if I had been able to take them.]
The second unusual load I saw was a washing machine. Again, there were two men on the bike, but in this case, the man on the back was straddling the seat facing backwards, which gave him enough room to hold onto a not-quite-full-size washing machine which was on his lap. The washing machine was not secured in any other way other then the guy's fingers wrapped around two opposite corners and most of it hung in midair off the back of the seat. He looked completely unconcerned, and they were moving so fast that I had no time to pull out my camera.
(You know, I'm pretty proud of myself when I can go out on my bicycle and come home with a case of beer, a 6-pack of water, some fruit from the market in my front basket, and two grocery nags hanging off the handlebars. [Yes, that is correct: we buy beer by the case and water by the 6-pack.] But clearly I have a long way to go before anyone here will be impressed with my skills.)
Wednesday evening I went to some kind of party that I didn't really understand but greatly enjoyed. Here's what I did understand about it: There was an annual gathering of
kru chol rup (spirit mediums who act as faith healers) from many different provinces held at the home of a high-level
kru about a half-hour outside of Siem Reap. What they all did all day is a mystery, but I'm told it involved preaching and praying and monks and eating. By the time we arrived at about 8:00, it was a full-on party. There was a traditional Khmer band, a number of huge Peavey speakers (the "wall of sound" that causes all your internal organs to vibrate if you stand too close), a pink and gold tent, many tables and chairs, some open fires, people dancing, and the whole village watching. The dancers were the healers themselves, from what I could gather, mostly women and a very few men, as is common with this type of traditional role. The costumes they wore were an interesting mix. Some wore bright silk costumes with sequins and braid and conical hats, resembling apsara dancers, and others wore Army fatigues and police uniforms. I was told that the Army and police uniforms were to show support for the country and the troops at the border. They danced enthusiastically to traditional Khmer music, and then Khmer pop music, and even the Macarena. (Will the Macarena ever die? I think not...)
Over the course of the evening, I took many very bad photos (due to bad lighting and the Khmer habit of dancing in a tight circle) but I needn't have worried about being intrusive with the camera, as the woman in charge came over to thank me for taking photos. (She won't thank me when she sees how poorly they turned out.) I was complimented on my nose, which has happened occasionally in the past. Western noses are apparently considered quite attractive by some people, which I don't really understand. I watched lots of small children fall asleep in chairs or on laps as the evening got later and later. I had many one-sided conversations with Khmers who spoke no English, during which they said all kinds of mysterious and completely incomprehensible things to me, as usual, and I smiled in return, as usual. And I danced, reluctantly at first given that I had no alcohol in my system, but the older Khmer woman and younger Khmer man who kept dragging me to my feet really weren't taking no for an answer. So away from the main dance floor, we danced around a table, and eventually a crowd gathered to watch and cheer on the crazy
barang lady, and then to join in themselves. Just to be clear, I really tried to spare Jaz the embarrassment of having to witness this scene, and I didn't truly give in and join with gusto until she had wandered off. They tried but couldn't convince her to give it a whirl.
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| (Note my complete lack of grace.) |
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| Our audience begins to form... |
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| Jasmine's "No, thank you, I don't want to dance" face. |
If there's a name for this kind of gathering, I don't know what it is. According to one source, it happens once a year in January during the full moon. How many other foreigners have been lucky enough to attend such a gathering is anyone's guess - our good fortune last night was thanks to Sovann, as is so often the case when we get to do interesting off-the-beaten-track kinds of things here. Both his mother and sister were participants, and that's how we wrangled an invitation.
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| Sleepy children |
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| These women know how to get down! |
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I was told she is 13 or 14, and she's also a medium
(though she looks kinda small to me) |
So as usual, never a dull moment here. I'm still trying to learn the Khmer alphabet and it's still a slow and painful process, but tiny little epiphanies along the way encourage me to continue. We have a relatively busy social life with dinner dates here and there around town throughout the week. People come and go - our friend Richard (the British doc who worked with me at the clinic last fall) arrives back in Siem Reap this week and will stay with us for a while, but our friends Andras and Eszter will be leaving in a few weeks to go back to Hungary. We will really miss those two. Steve has found a nice balance of working mornings at the kindergarten at New Hope and afternoons at the children's hospital, Jaz teaches in the afternoon and tutors a few evenings a week. We've had a spell of cool weather with morning temperatures just below 70 degrees (brrrr!) and my sunflowers and zinnias are blooming, though my tomato plants got off to a great start but then flowered and died for unknown reasons. Oh well, you can't win 'em all.
