Pchum Ben

Last weekend I joined one of my close friends, Chantou, and her family in the province to celebrate Pchum Ben, a special Buddhist holiday, also known as “Ancestor’s Day”. It was by far the best experience I have had here; for four days and three nights I was invited to be part of her extended family (really extended – I couldn’t count the number of aunts, uncles and cousins, but it was a party!). So many memories were created in a relatively short time, and by the end of the first day, I felt like I was part of the family. We left early Thursday morning with the rush of traffic, leaving the deserted city behind us. I bought a ten dollar helmet and rode the back of a moto (small, red, with a basket) for two and a half hours, putting my life in the hands of Chantou’s nephew… really, a Dumb and Dumber moment. It was a beautiful ride through the rice paddies, but six inches of seat isn’t much to work with. We met up with the rest of the family at the edge of the river and loaded our bags, bodies and motorcycles onto a narrow wooden boat. The riverside was vibrant with color – trees and water lilies floated on the surface of the Tonle Sap, and houses built high on stilts lined the banks. After crossing the river, we transferred our bags to a big ol tuk tuk – the tuk-wagon, I called it – which was driven by one of the uncles. This was our ride for the weekend – it carried us through the village, off roads, and up to the mountain… with a little pushing. It carried about twenty of us at that point, but we definitely tested its maximum capacity later.
The area was so green – trees and other plants grew along the road, tall palm trees stood in the distance, and small mountains were painted in the background. I felt like I could breathe a little bit easier… I’m small town, so I felt more at home there than in Phnom Penh. We drove through the small market and along the red dirt roads that took us to the home of Chantou’s mother and father. They are beautiful people – her mother is hilarious, full of stories and expression, and her father, very serious and observant, yet warm. They welcomed me with open arms, plenty of food, and a straw mat. I met the rest of the family as well – I couldn’t tell you their names, but they all took care of me, making sure I ate as much rice as I could stomach and didn’t go without a can of Angkor – “My country, my beer!” Molly, sit – Molly, eat rice –Molly, take a bath, take a rest, take a photo - Molly, we go now – Molly, dance! I was clearly the outsider, but never did I feel like it. It was oddly familiar and comfortable, which was a pretty cool feeling, considering I was in the company of virtual strangers.
The weekend was packed with memories. They danced and sang karaoke all night for two nights, cranking power for lights and four huge speakers from a small greasy generator. I joined, of course, and earned the favor of the ladies across the street, who imitated my moves the next morning when I visited them for coffee. We toured the village and surrounding area, winding through fields and mountains, dodging cows and water buffalo. Kids rode shirtless on bikes, and women walked cattle along the roads. Many parties were in full swing in front of houses and at the pagodas – music, dancing, and shouts as we drove by. We went to the pagoda on Friday morning. Chantou’s family prepared food to take to the monks – rice and curry and fruits and meat – and they dressed in their traditional formal clothes, the women in long silk skirts and white beaded tops, and the men in silk shirts and pants. Later in the day, we visited the temple of their ancestors, the place where they put the bones of family members who have passed away. They offered wrapped gifts, burned incense and prayed inside the temple, then four young monks sat with the family. An elder sprinkled water on the family members with the leaves of a branch… and then we drank orange Fanta. Obviously, I didn’t understand everything that was happening, but I felt honored to sit with them and witness it nonetheless. From there we jumped the fence of a local school and strung a rope between two poles for a game of volleyball. We had to share the court with three cows, which I later learned are the same breed as those used for bull riding, so it was necessary to mark the eNORmous cowpies with plastic bottles. The cows got a little restless when we got into our second game – they kept moving in on our territory, so the guys chased them off with sticks. It kept them at bay until one got feisty and turned on us. He started grunting, then lowered his head and went after Chakrey (cousin). Really went after him – at a much faster speed than I would have anticipated from a cow. So Chakrey took off, and the chase was on… the cow left him to run down Chantou’s daughter, who started screaming and sprinting, and after she jumped into a tree for safety, it charged after me. I don’t ever remember being quite so scared, to be honest. So with all the speed I had (which isn’t much, of course), I ran for the steps of the school and the protection of a pillar, everyone joining me in my half-scream-half-laugh. More scream. “You have red shirt – it’s like Espain! Ha ha!” We all stayed in our safety zones until the mad cow got hit with enough rocks from Chakrey and left. We called the game, and rode four to a moto back to camp. Hilarious. We laughed about it for the rest of the weekend. So many moments to lock away – we climbed the rocks of a waterfall with the district governor and his bodyguards, hiked the backside of the mountain, then bought boiled eggs for the tuk ride home. We stopped for coconut on the way back – a cousin and the tuk driver shimmied up the trees and threw about thirty of them down while we waited below with axes and straws for immediate consumption. Really, such unique experiences. Maybe the most authentic was bathing in a sarong from a well… a little uncomfortable at first, but… when in Rome! I also gained a real appreciation for my mattress after sleeping on the wooden floor for three nights. I slept with Chantou’s daughters on the covered porch – we shared a mat and a mosquito net.
My favorite moments came at unexpected times. Just sitting on the floor, listening to Chantou and her family share stories and laugh. I dozed in and out, as I couldn’t understand what was being said, but there was so much love. I enjoyed sharing meals with them, of course, and as always, they loved that I ate their food. Before we left, each of the families sat with the grandfather and received a blessing from him. He extended a blessing to me as well, holding my hands in his. He wished me health and success and love, and I thanked him with more sincerity than he probably knows. It was special. We returned to the city – by tuk wagon, boat, and moto – stopping at the homes of every aunt, uncle and cousin who couldn’t make it to the reunion. We caravanned back to Phnom Penh, one car, one tuk tuk, and five motorcycles. I knew I was in with the fam when we stopped at a roadside rest area and they ordered me lunch - rice, boiled egg, and fried frogs wrapped in lettuce. I really feel this experience was the result of developing a special relationship with Chantou over time. I was able to experience real life, real traditions, real family interactions. And I was able to really enjoy it, knowing that I would be able to share similar moments with my own family soon. I feel like every experience here helps me appreciate life more.

The Commute

People say every day is an adventure, and really, this is so true here. Yesterday afternoon the black clouds rolled in, and it started pouring. By my four o’clock class, the hall was flooded and I had to wade through floating plastic cups to get to the English room. At five, water was creeping up to the lip of the ledge, so I unplugged the cords on the floor, put the keyboard on one of the desks, cleared the bottom shelf of books and threw the padlock on the door, hoping for the best. The front of the schoolyard was a small pool of swirling basketballs and blue garbage bags, and kids were huddled under the overhang on the steps, squealing and throwing things into the small reservoir. I guess the kids considered this a special time – the student bathrooms were covered in water, so they were allowed to use the toilet next to the office. Simple joys. I thought it was pretty fun, myself - this was a new thing for me. I wrapped my computer in a black trash bag and stuffed it into my backpack then climbed on my bike. The streets were already teeming with water, washing trash from the sidewalks. The sides of the road drop off, so everyone was competing for the small strip of higher ground in the middle - most streets didn’t even offer that. Potholes dot the area, which make for rough "blind" riding... six inches of water, then a foot and a half - no way to know when you're goin down! The best strategy was to follow the tires an SUV – they blaze a pretty good trail. I didn’t expect to jump the wakes of cars, but I guess anything goes. Water was up to my shins while pedaling – a lot of work! It rained most of the night, and I kept thinking about the state of our school. I headed out this morning, and the traffic was nuts – everyone trying to find a dry route to their destination. Well, I don’t know the city well enough to change my course, so I just started swimming. What I really could have used was my sweet little kayak! I walked my bike through knee-deep water, laughing with my fellow waders. “No problem,” two guys said. I was better off than some - my long legs make for a miserable bus trip, but they put me at an advantage for these conditions, and for one of the first times, I was grateful to be a giant in Asia. One poor little guy barely kept his handlebars above the water. Sticks kept getting caught in my spokes and I cursed the big jeeps that moved through the streets like barges, throwing waves into the basket of my bike. I finally made it to the school, which looked like an ant colony rebuilding its nest. Everyone was in repair mode, bailing water from halls and classrooms with dustpans and buckets. They didn’t complain, didn’t worry – just went to work. I spent the morning in a puddle, sweeping water over the lip of the door with my sandals while the kids worked. My pants dried out by lunch, and now it’s sunny and hot – really, no problem.