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Valentina and I quickly packed up our room and met Sython in the lobby. This was our last day touring Siem Reap and then he would be taking us to stay overnight in a village half way to Phnom Penh. He climbed in the Tuk Tuk and clapped his hands together. "Today we grab breakfast, American for Julie and then we go to the flooding villages." The Tuk Tuk arrived to the same place we ate the night before. Sython pointed on the menu as he spoke, "Julie, you get the American Breakfast?" I scanned the menu to the breakfast with an image of two eggs over easy, bacon, toast, tomatoes, orange juice and coffee for 20,000 Riel. "Yes, I will have that for breakfast!" I smiled. If I could find places like this, I would have enough energy for the day.
We paid our bill and drove through the busy city passing markets, stores selling strange bottles of liquid in old coke bottles under umbrellas. I asked Sython why the soda wasn't dark and he said, "That is not soda in the bottles. That is gasoline for sale. It is illegal to sell but no one stops people from selling so they buy from the gas station and bottle it in coke bottles to sell to motorcyclists along the country roads."
Along the country road the three of us talked about love. Sython spoke of his girlfriend every second. They met in the program when she was volunteering from Australia. It was cute the way he spoke so highly of her always, at breakfast, along the tour and now as we all discussed the difference of loving and being in love. He had plans to ask her parents for her hand in marriage this winter when he went to visit. Valentina chimed in with her heavy Italian accent her two cents on love. "A woman must always treat her man like a King. She must always be dressed beautifully and be put together. A man should never see you underdressed. Too many women get comfortable and do not stay looking put together for their man and they become disinterested. You must give them everything in reach but never your complete heart. Always keep your heart within your grasp. Then they will be constantly wanting more. Keep always one foot almost out the door."
Along the breezy drive through the country, I couldn't help but be so thankful that I had been placed on this trip. It's a Monday morning and I'm sitting in a Tuk Tuk listening to stories, opinions however right or wrong they are but they were new. They were conversations I would not have with people I would have never met if I didn't take this trip. I shook my head and smiled as I looked out out the jungles we passed along the drive. I could have been placed in any group, and I was so happy to be placed with Sython and Valentina.
Our Tuk Tuk took us off road and now our taxi was bumping up and down along an uneven dirt road to nowhere. We finally arrived to Kampong Pluk village. A canal with long wooden colorful boats called Touk's, lay to our left and markets to our right. Sython guided us out of the taxi and onto the touk. It was just the three of us in a boat with five iron seats on each side and a canopy overtop. As the boat cruised down the canal, I climbed out of my seat and sat on the bow of the touk. We passed other Touk's down the narrow canal until it opened into a large fresh water lake. After a thirty minute cruise, the boat led us so into a floating village. All the homes raised on stilts above the water. Home after home, stacked on top of each other with children playing on the balconies and crawling down wooden ladders to the water. Touk's parked in front of each home and little girls paddled across the canal to the each other's houses in big silver saucers. It was a like a Venice in Cambodia. All the houses very old and small but bright colors like cobalt blue, bright yellow and hot pink brushed across the stair railings and windows. I had never seen anything like it.
Our boat parked under the stilts of a home and Sython led us on to the land and into the village.
Looking down the dirt path, all the homes were very poor and the sight was quite sad to see. Garbage randomly scattered along in between the dirt path of houses. Small fires left burning where someone was cooking, naked children wandering around playing and appearing as if they had not bathed in days. Sython explained that the people in this village live here to have access to fishing. The fish they catch is free so they have everything they need. They fish, take boats into the market to sell and trade for other food and they are happy. This is their vacation dream home. He pointed over to a large Touk in front of a home and said, "Rolls Royce right there." And laughed. "And there, that is a BMW. You see, these are their fancy cars. They take great care and work on their "cars" constantly." He guided us over to a man working on his Touk. Sython showed us how he retrieved sap from trees and dipped the slim braided rope in the sap and wedged in between the wooden slabs of the boat. "This is the mechanic shop of the village. He's working on his ride."
We walked along the village as little kids came up to us and women sold us pencils and coloring books to give to the children. At the end of the village rest a Buddhist temple. This was built much more modern than any other home in the village. We walked inside and neon colors painted all over the walls displaying stories of Buddha. Their Buddha and coloring was much different than Thailand. Their Buddha wore highlighter neon yellow and was surrounded by people dressed in hot pink and bright purples. We knelt before Buddha and stayed silent for a few minutes.
After touring the village we headed back on the touk and cruised back to the main land. After lunch Sython took us to a silk farm. A tour guide dressed formally in a lilac purple suit held his hand for us to follow as he took us through the farm. He explained the silk moth, Bombyx mori are little creatures that produce silk. They are raised in captivity, placed on wooden baskets hanging on the wall until they weave yellow cocoons that eventually becomes silk. The life cycle of a cocoon is forty-seven days. Once they have grown into a moth, they are dipped into boiling hot water to kill the moth inside. While in the hot water, a comb like device spins the thread onto a large spool. I have to say, I was a little embarrassed to not know how silk was actually made. I had no idea how intricate the process was as the guide led us through the factory. I was so surprised to see how many hands have to touch the silk in order to make just one scarf. After the silk is spun out of the water, sent over to the next station where women bleached the silk from yellow to white. Once bleached, women sat in front of baskets of silk, picking through to ensure all the remaining moth pieces and imperfections are removed. Our guide led us to the next room where women dipped the silk in several different colors of dye. Once the silk was dyed, he led us into another factory. Here, the weavers spent days or weeks at a time to weave the perfect silk together.
Once our tour was complete, the guide took us to a gift shop to see all the finished products. Beautiful shirts, scarfs, pillows filled the walls and tables for sale. I picked up a scarf pricing over one hundred American dollars and this made sense to me. This was a much more complex process than I had ever realized and was worth every penny.
After the silk farm, we rode back to our hotel to retrieve our bags and sat at the bus station to wait for our ride out of Siem Reap. The attendant spoke to Sython in Khmer and I watched him grow very angry. He turned back to us after going back and forth with the woman and then waved us over to a van. We asked Sython why were not going in a bus and he said the bus was cancelled and that we would be taking a taxi. "Well that sounds even better?" I asked and Valentina frowned, "This is much worse, trust me." Sython explained that there would be seven to eight people in our taxi ride for the five hour drive to the village. "Oh, so we're taking a van?" I asked. Valentina sighed in disappointment, "No, we're taking a taxi with only one row of seats." I tried to picture a vehicle with a row of seats for seven people and was not understanding. We approached a gas station and the van dropped us in front of an old teal Corolla. The driver popped the trunk and Sython motioned for us to get in. "We're taking a sedan with seven passagers?" I gasped. Valentina added, "You see why I said this was much worse than the bus? Last week we had eight passengers and one had to ride in the trunk. At least, we do not have eight riders."
Four men climbed in the front of the car. Two sharing the driver seat and two the passenger seat. The rest of us squeezed in the back seat. I was beginning to wish we had taken the bus.
The Corolla plowed through the bumpy dirt road, leading us out of Siem Reap. This seemed so unsafe for a driver going 65 mph down a non-paved road, weaving pot hole after pot hole. Cambodian techno music blasted through the speakers. I went to grab my seat belt only to find the clip was not attached so asked Sython jokingly if I could just attach it to him somehow. I gazed out the window and prayed we would be making it to Trapeng Venh village safely. Our crazy driver honked at every car he plowed passed, weaving around the undefined road through the night.
Five hours later, our car came to a stop and Sython motioned for us to climb out. We collected our things and walked down a dark dirt road along the water. Sython removed his belt from his pants, just as we heard dogs barking. They viciously plunged toward the dirt path, barking and scaring us to death. Sython waved the belt at them and shouted in Khmer. He told us it was fine and they were just guard dogs. I was beginning not to enjoy the second portion of our trip.
We finally reached two homes next to each on stilts in front of the water. "You will sleep in this home and dinner will be served in the home next door." We climbed the old wooden ladder to the one bedroom house to find a women holding a baby and her daughter Seavhong. They showed us to our bed which lay in the corner and was just a wooden bed with no mattress and only a bamboo mat resting on top. I winced at the idea of sleeping on wood after a five hours of being tossed along bumpy dirt road. The house was very old and very dirty. Tall vaulted ceilings covered in webs, with large spiders visible to the eye. Geckos clicked as they climbed along the rafters. The shutters opened to the cool breeze flowing through the windows, at least it wasn't to hot but there were no screens and the door slung wide open allowing anything to fly in and out of the home. I usually was up for anything, but was not thrilled about our sleeping quarters tonight. We climbed the ladder down and Sython showed us to the toilet down stairs. He opened the door to a dark hole in a spider infested room and I decided I would just hold it.
We went to the home next door and were introduced to the family. The old mothers head shaved bald and spoke no English. She smiled at us motioned for us to sit. Valentina asked Sython why she shaves her head and he explained in their Buddhist religion, you shave your head completely when in the third stage of your life.
The father smiled at us, shirtless and with a scarf wrapped over one shoulder. Two little girls introduced themselves to us as Soknei and Somnong. A little boy peeked his head shyly from behind the bed and then disappeared again once our eyes met.The little girls were the only ones who spoke English aside from Seavhong. The mother motioned for us to sit at the dinner table filled with several bowls of covered food. I looked for chairs but no seats surrounded the table. Sython climbed up onto the table and sat Indian style in front of the bowls, then signaled us to do the same. Valentina and I climbed awkwardly on top of the table and the mother removed the lids with great pride as she unveiled the food. The aromas from the meals made me sick but I disguised my reaction with a smile. Unable to speak in English, she spoke a few words in Khmer and Sython translated. "She said to eat up. Eat as much as you wish." I looked at all the odd filled bowls of steaming food and my stomach turned. How was I going to make it through this meal? I dished out some rice and grabbed the bowl with orange and tan rectangular pieces and chunks of beef. I took a bite and tried so hard to force it down as the family sat on the bed watching us intently while we ate. They stared at us smiling and nodding as we ate and I worried how many more meals like this I would have to force down. I didn't want to be rude so ate as much as I could but really was just not used to eating like this. Flys buzzed on and off our bodies and the bowls of food. It was really a bit much for me.
I finished my last bite of rice and the mother raised herself from the bed and lifted the pot for me to take more. Just when I thought I was in the clear, I forced another smile and scooped another small serving. She smiled a big smile, exposing her missing teeth and few black teeth remaining and I felt so guilty that I was being so picky. It made her so happy to cook such a huge feast so I forced myself to get through the meal she was so proud to present.
After dinner, Soknei and Somnong were eager to speak to us in English. They practiced English three times a week in school and were so well versed. They asked us where we were from, our favorite colors, favorite animals and favorite food. They pointed to the cat and asked if we knew how to say it in Khmer. "Chhma," Soknei spoke as she pointed. "Do you know how to say dog?" She chirped. "Chi Kai." She went on to ask every single thing in the room and if we knew how to pronounce in Khmer. Soknei and Somnong answered each word so proudly and had us repeat back in Khmer. I'm pretty sure had we stayed longer, they would have recited their entire vocabulary if we let them. They grew so excited to teach us their language and speak English.
After our Khmer lesson it was growing late and we were exhausted from the travel.
Seavhong and Sython guided us back to the house next store and I went back to the bathroom before heading up stairs but with no lights and a huge frog on the floor, I decided to hold it and wait until tomorrow.
Sython explained that the Seavhong's mother wakes up every morning at 4am to start baking for the markets. I was so exhausted, I didn't mind. I'm sure I would sleep right through it. I crawled into bed and Seavhong covered us up in our bed with a pink mosquito net. Sython recommended it's best to sleep on your back when on a wooden bed. "Most comfortable way to fall asleep is that way." I closed my eyes and fought the urge to have to use the bathroom. Throughout the night, I felt like a steak on a grill. Flipping very five minutes from my bones aching on top of the hard wood. I would have to shift from my back to my side, only to flip to my stomach and back again to my side. It was very difficult to sleep this way and I wondered how they had become accustomed to this. I kept telling myself it was just one night and clenched my eyes tight trying to drift back to sleep.
I was awakened to a loud scraping noise filling the house and grabbed my phone to read 4:01am. Sython was not kidding when he said she starts baking early. I sat up in my bed and looked across the one bedroom home to see her dragging a coconut back and forth along a piece of wood. At this point, my bladder could not wait any longer. It had been over a half of day since I went so climbed the wooden stairs into the dark and found my way to the toilet hole. I went as quickly as I could as I watched that same huge frog hopping toward me. I pulled up my shorts and ran back up the ladder to bed.
This was not an easy environment to adjust to but I felt awful that I was complaining to myself internally. No one knew that I was so uncomfortable, but it really made me uneasy to be in a place like this. The morning could not come quickly enough. I guess if this was the only night I would have to be here, I could endure it. I was now looking forward to that crowded Corolla ride home tomorrow and back to my room with no toilet seat. That sounded like paradise compared to this place.
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