A full week has come and gone since I arrived in Cambodia and this post is about the things I have seen and done since then (in no particular order). This blog is a bit confused as to its identity. Am I writing about the things I’ve done, the experiences I’ve had, the thoughts that go through my head or some hybrid of them all? Only once I return home will the answer become obvious. I have a feeling this post will just be a collection of observations with a few experiences tossed in…shall we begin?
I will begin with a few observations. The construction of Cambodian homes seems to be in a different arrangement from those in the Western world. The garage is usually located directly under the house, that is if it is a garage and not some kind of retail outlet. It appears as though most city dwellers are hawking something out of their home, the most dominant of which seems to be Pringles. The mighty P&G machine has somehow managed to place their potato chips in every corner of the globe. I guess I should have bought more of that stock. My next observation is that these retail stores are upside down versus their NA counterparts. The merchandise is often hanging from the roof instead of on neatly organized shelves. Maybe this is because a large portion of Cambodia floods and floor bound merchandise is doomed, or because people are too lazy to bend over or some other reason I have failed to contemplate. Observation #3 comes from the pricing and currency exchange that takes place across the country. This is a lesson that North America can learn from. All prices are as posted (no added taxes) and are very convenient in nature. You never buy a beer for $1.67 (after tax). The price of $1 dollar is quite popular and makes using the unimaginative unicolour Amercian currency quite easy. Canada could definitely do without the penny and most likely the nickel as well. It could be even taken to extremes and include the elimination of the dime. Would paying $1.25 for something instead of $1.13 really make a difference to anyone? We already have coins for $1 and $2 so we could help eliminate holes in our jeans from carrying masses of coins and cutting back on our monetary shrapnel.
That’s enough on the observation side of things so now it’s time for an experience or two. After spending two years working in the beer industry it may seem as almost a sin to put ice in your beer, but here in the land of minimal refrigeration and 30+ degrees it is a necessity. It transforms already extremely light beer into the anorexic cousin of Bud light. I guess it’s a battle of two evils and it’s a personal choice as to which is worse: warm beer or light/watery beer? The good news is that a pint costs you 50-75 cents so watering it down a bit hurts a lot less than when forking out $6 for one back home. One of the qualities of a well written article is finishing strong. I will attempt to do that by describing the most truly Cambodian experience of my first week back. Chaos! That is the first word that comes to mind when thinking about my experience as a rookie moto driver across Sihanoukville. When you jump on a moto (motorbike for those who haven’t been subjected to SE Asian accents and lingo) you must first take everything you’ve learned as a North American driver and toss it out the window. You can no longer expect and predict behaviour of the other motorists. Checking blind spots behind you becomes obsolete, and it truly is every (wo)man for themselves. You become responsible only for the things in front of you and are expected to act accordingly. Cars, busses and motos are often driving the wrong way in your lane. You can be passed on the left or right, and at any time. Solid yellow lines and traffic lights blur into mere suggestions. There seems to be a constant game of how many family members you can transport at once on a moto or how many factory workers you can cram into a 1980s Toyota minivan being played. Everytime I get on a moto I see something new that shocks me and makes me feel very Canadian (read as safe and regulated). Its now time for me to pack-up my computer and enter the craziness en route back to my hotel. I’m going to tie my personal best of one pasty white Canadian on my moto at once. Tomorrow I hope to get to the beach in time to help that pasty Canadian darken up a bit.
That’s enough on the observation side of things so now it’s time for an experience or two. After spending two years working in the beer industry it may seem as almost a sin to put ice in your beer, but here in the land of minimal refrigeration and 30+ degrees it is a necessity. It transforms already extremely light beer into the anorexic cousin of Bud light. I guess it’s a battle of two evils and it’s a personal choice as to which is worse: warm beer or light/watery beer? The good news is that a pint costs you 50-75 cents so watering it down a bit hurts a lot less than when forking out $6 for one back home. One of the qualities of a well written article is finishing strong. I will attempt to do that by describing the most truly Cambodian experience of my first week back. Chaos! That is the first word that comes to mind when thinking about my experience as a rookie moto driver across Sihanoukville. When you jump on a moto (motorbike for those who haven’t been subjected to SE Asian accents and lingo) you must first take everything you’ve learned as a North American driver and toss it out the window. You can no longer expect and predict behaviour of the other motorists. Checking blind spots behind you becomes obsolete, and it truly is every (wo)man for themselves. You become responsible only for the things in front of you and are expected to act accordingly. Cars, busses and motos are often driving the wrong way in your lane. You can be passed on the left or right, and at any time. Solid yellow lines and traffic lights blur into mere suggestions. There seems to be a constant game of how many family members you can transport at once on a moto or how many factory workers you can cram into a 1980s Toyota minivan being played. Everytime I get on a moto I see something new that shocks me and makes me feel very Canadian (read as safe and regulated). Its now time for me to pack-up my computer and enter the craziness en route back to my hotel. I’m going to tie my personal best of one pasty white Canadian on my moto at once. Tomorrow I hope to get to the beach in time to help that pasty Canadian darken up a bit.
