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September 1, 2008
Meeting all the Usual Suspects, Part 1
So I've been in-country for 3 days now, and my sleep schedule is slowly stabilizing toward the Cambodian norm. Which, as it happens, begins by waking up at or before 5AM. So I've slowly been shifting towards that. I am quite tired at the end of the day, though perhaps naps are the solution.
My mom joked that the first khmer phrase I would learn would be "Hey, look at that big white guy." And while I haven't learned that particular set of words yet, I have definitely gotten some funny looks and smiles. I've had to re-acquaint myself with the metric system as most people I meet ask me how tall I am and how much I weigh. The shorthand answer of 2 meters (or m'er, as it seems to be pronounced here) and 120 kilograms seems to suffice.
I boarded the plane shortly after midnight thursday, and got off the plane on saturday morning, courtesy of the international date line. I'm not sure if I would recommend China Airlines as a means of getting to cambodia, but they did move me to a roomier seat when they noticed my obvious discomfort, and they do have this really adorable cartoon about what to do if you think you're exposed to SARS. I managed to make it through customs & immigration with my scanned, emailed, and printed-out letter of attestation, and was picked up at the airport by Sovannthea, a really great guy who handles some of the logistics at the little division I'm going to be working at. I was dropped off and checked in at a guesthouse in a part of town popular with NGO types (This particular street was filled with guesthouses and hotels that begin with "Golden:" Golden Gate, Golden Bridge, Golden Star, etc.) I got all my stuff inside, and then promptly slept for the rest of the day.
My sunday defintely deserves a full retelling, mostly for how rich and bizarre it was. I'm a big believer in the "aimless wandering" school of getting to feel out a city you've just arrived in, and Phnom Penh seemed to prove especially fruitful for this.
I got up and about probably around 8 or 9, and decided to wander in a westerly direction on one of the main boulevards, aiming roughly for the Olympic Stadium. No one's able to tell me why exactly it's "Olympic Stadium." Perhaps it's because they hold their olympic trials there? Anyway, it's actually a quite impressive complex, with a classic bowl that holds up to 50,000. It's got a lot of potential, all things considered. When I arrived, though, there were mostly homeless people huddling under the shade of the light posts, themselves were marked up with chalk inscriptions in both Khmer and english.
Drawn by the sound of whistles and clapping inside (as well as the booming of storm clouds to the north) I ducked into the indoor space, to find a gem of Cambodian sport. Initially I thought i was seeing some sort of regional amateur volleyball tournement, until I noticed something unusual about the players. They were all missing a limb. I was watching the Cambodian National Volleyball League (Disabled). And they were really good. Some of those guys had 30 inch verticals or better, and the action had me at the edge of my seat. Apparently Cambodia has the #3 team in the world in disabled volleyball (looking to be number one when the championships take place this year in Slovakia), and it makes sense. It's a tragic fact that they have a rather large talent pool, thanks to the thousands of landmines and unexploded ordinance that litters the country. The league seems to be sponsored by a number of telecoms along with the International Campaign to Ban Landmines, and it's really a brilliant idea, especially the way it raises awareness and pride without instilling pity.
I watched the games for a few hours until the rains passed, then walked further in the now clear (and hot, and humid) afternoon. After a bubble-tea-and-taro-ice cream float at a Chinese-run vegetarian restaurant (Fate-Blessing Buddha's, I think it was called), I noticed a sign that said "Fitness" and had a drawing of a muscled figure on it. Intrigued, I investigated, to find an awesomely old-school gym called "The King Kong Club." It was basically open-air, under an tin/aluminum roof, with a bunch of old weight machines and free weights. Admission was 700 Riels (about twenty cents). I figured that this looked like a great place to get a workout in, and besides, there was nothing wrong with a little grime; machines might be chancey, but how is a dumbell going to go wrong? It had a lot of character. I remember my high school weight room was pretty similar--if we wanted chalk, we had to wipe our hands on a slice of exposed wall.
I'll continue my tale of sunday later when I have time, but first a few further observations after the jump...
I feel somewhat well conditioned to the hassle of moto drivers and other solicitors thanks to my experiences in mexican border towns when I lived in Arizona, and my more recent weeks spent this summer in New York. Also, being as tall as I am, it's easier to avoid eye contact, turning people away with a shake of the head and a wave of the hand. Of course, when I actually needed a ride I didn't haggle as hard as I could, mostly because I knew that they usually don't make very much, and I was worried that my weight (probably that of two average cambodians) might affect their gas mileage. I'm going to try and get in touch with the guy who drove Andrew (my predecessor), since it makes sense to have a standing arrangement with one guy, who is satisfied enough with the guarantee of repeat business to offer a consistent and basically fair price.
Phnom Penh's traffic seems at times frightening, but on a basic level it made sense to me, probably because here it ceases to be a system of rigid order and instead is a system of fluid agents. As long as you're watching everyone around you, and actually paying attention to the road, it's less dangerous than it seems. That's not to say that it's *not* dangerous--I made room in my suitcase for a big white helmet for a reason--but it's dangerous the same way a river can be. If you don't respect the flow, you're going to get hurt.
Posted by flynn at September 1, 2008 9:15 PM
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Comments
How perfect you ended up at the King Kong Club -- must be some kind of Cambodian karma. Happy to know that living in Yuma has helped to give you a sense of ease in third-world situations.
Hey, look at that big f---ing white guy!
Posted by: Ann at September 2, 2008 2:53 AM
Hey Adam! What a great adventure you have embarked on! I thorough enjoyed reading the account of your first few days there. When I get some time I'll read some more of pre-trip events. You are a tremendously descriptive writer, and I hope you have time to keep us all up to date on your experiences there. I can well imagine how cramped you were in that airplane seat. Even a short guy like me barely fits. Jerry Archuleta. P.S.: Your mom gives very good advice, which I know you'll conscientiously heed.
Posted by: Jerry Archuleta at September 2, 2008 1:41 PM