The Village

Ride to Poon te'Bang village

Yesterday, I went to Koon's (a man who is part of Trailblazer) village Poon te'Bang (this is how it sounds to me) for the whole day, which was very interesting and great to get out of the city where I fear being run over every other five minutes. We left from Siem Reap at 10am sharp, although I had been up since 6am thanks to the Cambodian music blasting from the house next to me (some sort of traditional violin, wooden xylophone, and loud singing. I have realized this goes on from sunrise to sun set. Seeing as I have dealt with now six power cuts ranging from 30 seconds to 2 hours, it is surprising to me that they use their power on this boombox instead of savoring it for, maybe, light).

I had never been that far outside of Siem Reap before, and it was truly (and expected-ly)  a whole different world from Siem Reap. Although only 31km away, suddenly the roads were not paved, toilets became holes in the ground, doors where non-existent (the houses were on stilts), and patches of different shades of green filled the landscapes like a carpet. It was interesting to see the different government signs, most commonly the Cambodian People's Party (Hun Sen's camp), the Cambodian National Rescue Party (of which I have never heard and wonder if there is a different name as well), and FUNCINPEC (Front Uni National pour un Cambodge Indépendant, Neutre, Pacifque, etc Coopératif or in English National United Front for an Independent, Neutral, Peaceful, and Cooperative Cambodia). The CPP had a center in nearly every village we passed through, and Hun Sen's face (and a bad picture of him, honestly) plastered on signs in even the most remote areas. 

So I have been told, people continue to vote for Hun Sen because they know nothing else. Elections are this July, and he is expected to win (or rather, he has little competition as people are too scared) again. According to Sophie, a Cambodian-American I met in Poon te'Bang who immigrated to the USA in 1981 from a Thai rescue camp and was returning to visit her mother, the people are just happy that it is not the Khmer Rouge, and that essentially "anything is better than the Khmer Rouge." Even though Hun Sen he no godsend, he is not Pol Pot. If the people and live and work, albeit often under the poverty line, this is still better than the Khmer Rouge. This is not meant to insinuate that the Khmer people do not care.

Also dotted along the villages and houses were signs from where filters, schools, houses, toilets, etc. had been donated. The most popular signs were from Japan, Canada, Australia, the U.S., and I saw one from the EU. I find it interesting that instead of just donating a water filter or toilet, the country or organization has to make it known who donated the filter, etc. rather than just put the filter in. I understand that with Trailblazer, for example, if the filter says Trailblazer then there is knowledge of accountability if something goes wrong. But the Honolulu Air Force Team? No. In my personal opinion, rather than have your name stamped onto the charitable act, just give it. Do you have to be recognized for everything?

I never say no to a coconut. 

After walking about to visit Koon's multiple friends and random cousins (and being told that I was the tallest girl they have ever seen, asking how much I weighed and asking me to step on a scale that looked more appropriate to weigh mangosteens (I declined to step on it), listening to "Thrift Shop" on the radio with smart aleck ten-year-olds and dancing a bit in my chair (they could not contain their laughter), and holding a baby without any pants on who I prayed wouldn't suddenly pee), I ate lunch and drank a huge young coconut. A woman then split open my coconut and gave it to a very young child (age unknown) who proceeded to scrape the meat out and get it all over herself. Lunch consisted of really good rice, a soy sauce chopped chili concoction, fried eggs, and water spinach. Koon kept apologizing that it was not pizza, and that it was not the famous (yet expensive and not widely eaten by Cambodians on a quotidian basis) amok you get in the center of town. I wanted to shake him and tell him that this is what I liked--not the food in the center of town that as I described earlier, the taste is truly MIA. I did not shake him, and I did tell him how good the food was, but I fear he did not understand (which will change soon as I take my Khmer lessons!) It truly aggravates me that everyone thinks that because I am a Western white girl I want pasta and pizza, but no, the pasta and pizza in Asia are often terrible and I much prefer Cambodian food by a landslide. Really--I remember having pasta at a swanky restaurant in Bangalore and just thinking how it tasted like a Lean Cuisine. No thanks. [Side note: Num Pang Sandwich Shop on 12th and University Place is amazing, yet far from anything I have had on the streets of Siem Reap yet)

After lunch we walked around more and talked to even more people, some of whom were huddled around a black and white television, we went back to Siem Reap. My butt was basically numb by the time I got back to my guesthouse and I struggled to sit still on the back of the moto. 3 hours on a motorbike truly takes a toll on your rear end, and even when I sat on my bed upon arriving home (and all I can say about my bed is that I am glad massages here are cheap), I stood up immediately.