I don't even know where to begin explaining the events of today. Lauren and I woke up at 6:30 to get ready for the day. Spencer had called us the night before and told us to meet at Mike's home at 7:30 to go to a Cambodian engagement party. I wore a skirt and a white v-neck with a white tank top underneath, hoping that it would be dressy enough for the occasion.
We arrived at Mike's to a room full of family members. Three Khmer women sat on the ground, legs bent at acute angles to their bodies and chomping on some form of tobacco. All three had very brown teeth; it would probably be fair to say that they were all good candidates for some form of mouth cancer. It was interesting that only the women were using the chaw; their husbands seemed to stay clear of it. They and their other family members stared at us as we sat on the couch on the other side of the room. This side of the family was from outside of Phnom Penh, from the provinces.
Spencer and Kaitlin eventually showed up and we all stepped outside to begin our journey. None of us knew where we were going, so we just followed Mike's dad. He led us all down the alleyway to the busy street where a Lexus SUV was waiting for us. All thirteen of us crammed inside like clowns in a clown car. I sat on Lauren's lap for the duration of our trip, sure that I was numbing her legs in the process. My mom would kill me if she knew I was in this car. But thus it is with the Cambodian way of life; cram as many people in one space that you can and call it good.
We arrived in one of the provinces immediately outside Phnom Penh and drove to a pretty nice home that was built next to a creek. Tables with gold and purple cloth were sitting on the porch and I knew we must be at the right place. We walked into the house and were led to the main living area where red and gold blankets covered the entirety of the ground. We were instructed to sit around the outside of the room as the men placed bowls full of fruit and other foods in the center of the room. They paid strict attention to detail, making sure there were two bowls of each fruit and that they were placed separately in an ornate pattern.
Eventually the rest of the family came and sat down with us and the ceremony began. I sat next to a man named Sokhen; we conversed as best we could in a mix of Khmer and English. A man in a white shirt conducted the ceremony through a wireless microphone as the parents of the future bride and groom sat at the front of the room. The large fruit baskets were passed from the parents of the groom (Mike's host parents) to the parents of the bride. The rest were passed between the parent couples in some sort of pattern that I didn't catch. The ceremony ended right around the time that my right leg began to cramp up.
But wait, what's this? Why is Sokhen holding his phone out to me? Wait- he wants my phone number? Ahh, crap. I couldn't understand why he wanted it, so I decided just to give him Mike's number. I snuck away and headed outside to join the group at the tables for our meal. The hosts brought around Angkor beer, scotch whiskey, and wine to us, among bottles of water and cans of Yeo drink and soda water. They were a little surprised that we weren't drinking the alcohol, so Spencer politely responded by telling them that we were Christians and didn't drink.
The food was great. I chowed down on some sort of pickled coleslaw mix for the most part. Fruit was brought out afterward and we kept going at it. My favorite fruit by far was one that was called something like "mango seed." It was a black, fleshy fruit that you eat by peeling away the thick red flesh until you get to the white fruit inside. So good!
We eventually made our way inside to stay away from the sun that was slowly creeping over the house towards the porch. Spencer was being bombarded by a very buzzed Cambodian man who apparently was the mayor of the area we were in. At one point Sokhen came over and handed me a piece of paper with his phone number and email on it. I took it politely, but was surprisingly embarrassed by the gesture. Naturally everyone in the group started poking fun at me. It's ok, though. I would have done the same thing.
At one point, a man brought out a fake apple tree and set it in the middle of the room as a TV playing karaoke songs blared in the background. They told us to come dance with them. Thinking it was a one time thing, we did. Somehow Sokhen got right in line next to me as we made futile attempts to dance like Cambodians. It was really fun, but I was getting tired about the sixth time around. Sokhen would come up to me as I sat at the table and sompeah, asking me to dance. We were all burnt out and dripping sweat like crazy at the end.
After drinking two cans of soda and downing a bunch of water, nature called my name. I headed to the bathroom to take care of business and eventually made my way out. I wasn't surprised to see that they were all dancing again. I stood kind in a corner of the room and began dancing here and there. Suddenly Mike's mom was behind me, pointing at something nearby. I thought she was telling me to move, but I was shocked to see that my skirt was tucked into itself and revealing the upper extremities of my legs. I quickly pulled it down and felt the embarrassment rush over me as the table of Cambodians behind me roared with laughter. I thanked her profusely for saving me from any further social suicide and went on dancing. Oh well, I'm never going to see any of them again anyway. I'm glad I could provide them with some sort of entertainment, even if it was at my own expense.
One thing I noticed was that they're just as nervous about offending us culturally as we are them. Sokhen came over at one point and apologized if any of us got offended with the dancing. I thought for sure that we were the only ones that were nervous about that, but apparently it goes both ways. Now that I think about it, I guess that if I had a guest from a foreign country, I'd be a little nervous about their cultural norms. Food for thought.
I was nervous about who was driving us home, since everyone seemed pretty liquored up. We had to get home somehow, though, so we piled into Sokhen's air conditioned truck and hit the road. Sokhen and Spencer had a nice little chat that Spencer later related to us. Apparently Sokhen's entire family was killed in 1977, two years after the Khmer Rouge took power. The only way he was able to escape was by running towards Vietnam around the age of 12. I can't imagine how scared he must have been.
We found our way back to Mike's house where it appeared the rest of the family had been there much longer before us. One of the old men made attempts to talk to us in Cambodian, but luckily one of Mike's host brothers was there to translate a little in English for us. His English was actually quite good. He told us that Cambodia had changed a lot since the millennium, that it had become much more modern. As we all know, though, modernity can breed its own problems. The elderly man was trying to communicate to us the Cambodian value of loyalty between husband and wife, that it was very important to his generation. As for the new generation, though, he wasn't very sure. I guess you could say that the loss of traditional values is a common symptom of globalization and modernization.
The young man told us that many more people drink now as compared to ten years ago because it's more readily available. Is that a good thing? From my point of view it certainly isn't. In one light, the production and selling of alcohol puts food on someone's table; on the other hand, it weakens and can eventually destroy one's life and affect an entire family unit for a lifetime.
The rest of the evening was spent learning Khmer and getting to know our group.
I absolutely love it here. Sure, sometimes it smells like a dumpster, but I have to remember that I do, too. There's something oddly liberating about sweating 24 hours a day. I'm embracing it.
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