It was an unusual weekend for me in the village. Two volunteers visited me and spent the night; it was a good ol' fashioned sleepover. We stayed up late (extremely late for PCVs – 11PM) and talked about boys, spouted profound affirmations, and giggled with exhaustion. It's incredible how much more enjoyable the village can be with friends.
The next morning we roused early, ate a delicious noodle breakfast and biked to another volunteer's village – the village I hit up quite often to hang out with PCV and my friend Stacy and take advantage of “free” wifi. We spent many hours internetting, finally moving from our uncomfortable seats in order to feed our perpetually hungry bellies. We wandered the market to find an appetizing meal and all agreed that we wanted to eat something and somewhere that would possibly minimize or at least not increase our sweating. It was unseasonably hot this day – “it's supposed to be WINTER in Cambodia, why is it hot as balls?” we cried out. Winter is all relative. After being in Cambodia for this long, I can honestly say that I get legitimately cold in weather below 75ยบ now. This is an embarrassing fact considering my extremely deep Minnesotan roots and high tolerance for cold temperatures. That's besides the point though – we were hot and whiney.
This is what "winter" in Cambodia looks like
We ate more delicious noodles along with unidentifiable dumpling-type-things (I call them this because I always forget what they are called) that were not cooked all the way through. We ate 'em anyway.
We met up with more volunteers from around the area and found more things to eat but specifically REAL CHOCOLATE. And regardless of our fullness, we ate entire bars of chocolate (with almonds!) because we are predisposed to chocolate deficiencies here. It's much safer to induce pain in our fragile bodies by overeating than it is to risk not eating chocolate. The availability of chocolate is just too uncertain in these dark times.
This is what PCVs look like when they find delicious food.
And the day went on a lot like this, traveling from one spot to the next finding more food throughout the journey. I grew weary and felt the comfort of my own bedroom beckoning me. It's strange to me how I can spend so much of my time alone and yearning for the company of a friend, especially a friend that speaks clear English, and once I have said company, I still eventually get tired and need to retreat back to my restorative niche. And so I bicycled my way back home, cursing my bike the whole way because it is in serious need of a tune-up and not my half-assed version of a tune-up that entails spraying excessive amounts of lube on the chain...I may enjoy biking but I have never claimed to have any knowledge in the realm of bicycle maintenance. So sue me!
Once I made it home, I sprawled out like a starfish (technically they are now called sea-stars because they are not really fish) on my bedroom floor and let my fan hail down on me at level 3. After about an hour of this, I finally mustered up the motivation to take a shower. Due to excessive sweating and other contributing factors (i.e. stress, hygienic habits, etc) PCVs often acquire a propensity to smell of a rather potent fragrance. Unfortunately, some PCVs resolve to abstain from showering, especially in the “WINTERTIME” due to lack of hot water. I may or may not be one of those volunteers.
Mid-shower, my host brother Theva calls for me. He says we are going to Chhuk, AI-LO-NEE (NOW.) Chhuk is a larger town about 18k from my house and “we” have never gone there before (“we” as in the family.) And of course we are going AI-LO-NEE, it wouldn't be Cambodia if they gave me 30 minutes to dry off, put clothes on, and get somewhat decent before going out in public. Luckily I don't need 30 minutes (but it would be nice to get a little more warning...) I threw on some clothes and awkwardly wandered around the house until my host mom affirmed that we were indeed going AI-LO-NEE. NOW. NOW!
This is how my hair looks EVERYDAY! Without showering!
We all walk across the street together, pile into the back of my host uncle's truck (all 12 of us) and fly off to Chhuk to treat ourselves. This is the third time I have gone to a restaurant with my host family in the 15+ months I have lived with them. This is pretty special. At this point, there are now approximately 20 of us, with 5 tables pushed together to accommodate our rowdy group. They put in 5 orders of “Cow Climbs the Mountain”, which I'd never eaten before. Five individual burners were brought out, then 5 plates of raw beef, then plates of veggies. I tried not to think too much about the plates of raw beef (how long have these plates of raw beef been sitting out? Where was the beef before it was on the plate? Is there a fridge back there? Etc, etc.) I have never been terribly picky about food and I figure most things won't kill me so I just go with the flow. The burners are lit and we start laying down the “cow” on the “mountain.” This is fun! You get to cook your own meat! And they used BUTTER! In America, I avoided butter most of the time but butter is hard to come by in these parts so I was a little excited. My first taste of an adequately cooked piece of beef was incredible. Thanks to the butter it tasted like American. It was a glorious moment for my tongue and brain.
More plates of raw beef were hauled out, more beef was cooked to perfection, or overcooked – whatever! Then plates of cow stomach were brought out. Not for cooking purposes, just to eat as is. (I'm guessing the cow stomach was boiled? I'm still alive so whatever.) Cow stomach is not my thing. The texture of cow stomach is like something you'd pull out of the coral reef. Looks like a flesh colored sea anemone. It's chewy, too chewy. I couldn't NOT think about cow stomach when I was eating it no matter how much sauce I slathered it in. So I ended that adventure promptly.
Oh, did I mention there was beer drinking? Yes, more Angkor beer but this time it was in real BOTTLES. This was truly a novel experience for me. My host mom was endearingly drunk after one glass, as per usual, and did silly things. She started pouring ice water into one of the burners, regardless of her sister-in-law telling her she shouldn't and the burner started smoking. My host mom laughed and said “Oh, khnom pleuch” (I forgot.)
Cambodia when it starts to get quiet....maybe...sometimes.
Bottles and bottles of Angkor beer were consumed, glasses were clinked numerous times, and the food kept coming. Luckily I was on the end of the table, the perfect place for people watching. I quietly observed everyone's interactions with each other, they laughed at each other, made fun of each other, and were all in all happy together. The more “srah-veung” (drunk) I got the more I just wanted to hug everyone. However, hugging isn't really customary here and it would be especially weird for me to do it in these circumstances. I am a hugger and even more deficient in hugging and affection than I am with chocolate.
And then I hit a point where I became sad and envious of all these people that have their family so close at hand. I'm not sure if they can completely understand what it's like for me to be so far away from all my friends and family. I tried to just be happy for them but I felt very alone even while surrounded by 20 fairly gregarious and smiley people. I let myself sink into thought too much and tears snuck out of my eyes. And the world kind of swirled around me.
Luckily it was time to hit the road again and I was knocked out of my spell.
This time on the way back home, my friend Saa and I got to stand up in the back of the truck with our hands resting on the cab, looking straight out at the road ahead of us. The wind whipped my hair all around me and dried my eyes. I stopped thinking too much and just let myself enjoy the quiet beauty of night in Cambodia. And to think I was ready to hide out in my room all alone just hours before that moment.
This is exactly what I looked like!
