Of Grease, Dirt, and Bastards

Cambodia. Home of Angkor Watt, Pol Pot, and 14 million Khmer. A frightening mix of abject poverty, immense historical beauty, and all-too-recent genocide. So, why not go?

This weekend, Danny, a senior from George Washington, and I packed our bags and headed west. What could there be to stop us? Well, government for one. On our way out of Vietnam, we had to pass through customs. Unfortunately, Danny had forgotten his exit papers for Vietnam. Our very own border agent was all too happy to help us. 'You have present for me?' she says, hoping for a little bonus. We duly grease the wheels of the government and continue on our way, incredulous at how blatant the system is worked.

The motorbike ride into Siem Reap, dusty and dry, proved to be a good indicator of things to come. Going anywhere over a kilometer was an invitation for dirt in the mouth and a lung full of exhaust. At least we were able to travel in style. Flocks of Tuk-tuk's line the streets in Cambodia, their drivers constantly crowing for business. These Tuk-tuks, mini-carriages hooked up to motocycles, clog the heart of Siem Reap, as motorbikes have been forbidden. Immensely gratifying and imperialistic, in a slightly troubling way, these Tuk-Tuk's hark back to the days of pure French Colonialism.

As we start into town we begin to pass the opulent hotels on the outskirts of the city and our driver starts to ask us questions from his limited repertoire of English. 'Where you from?', 'What your name?', 'Ahh, American?' For the first time, wholly unable to communicate in the native language, I realized I was limited to gestures and a wide range of guttural sounds. Stunningly, we were soon able to land at a café suggested by our guidebook after a series half-words, awkward glances, and more than one shrug.

Leaving the café, we meander the streets for an hour or so, taking care to get lost on as many occasions as possible, Danny and I finally decide on the Jasmine Guesthouse to settle down. Benefitting a Cambodian orphanage and staffed by the older adolescent orphans themselves, the hostel was clean, had hot water, and served a delicious breakfast every morning. A model of how businesses can positively affect the communities around them, each of the staff spoke excellent English and seemed well-educated. We checked it, and promptly headed back to Pub St.