Phnom Penh
Another day spent on a bus. It could have been worse, but the rain – the downpour – didn't make our 2 hour stopover in Phnom Penh any fun. We got into Battambang late in the evening and we were immediately greeted by a swarm of tuk tuk drivers. Exhausted, we settled on a hotel that could have easily doubled as a mental asylum with its empty white tiled walls, florescent lighting, and creepsters lurking in the hallways.
The rain stopped me from a walk to the post office the day before. I also needed a break from dragon shipping disappointment. Had I known I would LOVE the Cambodia Post so much, I would not have worried so much! We arrived, and after they eyed my box, informed me that it was too large, and they would re-pack its contents into a Cambodia Post box. All items had to be shipped in a Cambodia Post box. I sighed, opened my box, pulled out the dragon and let them see for themselves what I was dealing with. They tried – unsuccessfully – to put it into their regulation Cambodia Post box. And then, magically, they handed it back to me and said to put my dragon back in my box. They would cover my box with Cambodia Post boxes! I could have kissed them. All of them.
They got to work covering my box with another layer of Cambodian cardboard, and asked me where I got the dragon. We explained what happened, and they smiled when I repeatedly thanked them for their help. Shipping cost a little more than what the dragon cost in the first place, it has enough cardboard around it to hopefully survive the slow boat home, and should arrive in about 2-3 months. Yay!
me: Ohmigod, it’s like the weight of a dragon has been lifted off my shoulders!
Andrew: More like the bulk of one…
After the post office, we walked through the Central Market, got bus tickets to Takeo, lunch, and then waited for what felt like forever at the very crowded and busy station for our bus.
A fairly painless two hours later, we arrived in Takeo and were immediately bombarded by tuk-tuk drivers. Per our tuk-tuk rule, we never agree to a ride when someone hounds us. Usually we stroll around until we find one lounging in his ride and we ask him for a lift. Also, we thought it might be possible to walk to the Volunteer Center. Not only did the tuk-tuk drivers get on the bus before we got off, they asked us a couple of times while we got our backpacks, and then drove their tuk-tuks up to us four meters away from the bus to ask again. As Andrew laughed about later, I do admit, I kinda lost it.
me: Why you ask 5 times if we want tuk-tuk?
tuk-tuk driver: I want to know if you need tuk-tuk.
me: ONE time, you ask if I need tuk-tuk. I said NO. TWO times, you ask if I need tuk-tuk. I said NO. THREE times, you ask if I need tuk-tuk. I said NO. FOUR times you ask if I need tuk-tuk. And I SAID NO! NOW FIVE TIMES?!? FIVE TIMES YOU ASK IF I NEED TUK-TUK!?!? NOOO!!! (and maybe, ok, I did, pretend to physically pull my hair out of my head at this point)
The tuk-tuk driver laughs. I turn around to more laughter and it’s another tuk-tuk driver and I point to him and say “YOU TOO! NO TUK TUK!” and he laughs too, and they leave us alone.
And then we got lost walking.
But then the only foreign tuk-tuk driver passes us by, turns around and asks where we’re going. He’s from New Futures (where we were headed), and gives us a ride to what turned out to be a couple of kilometers to the center. Even if Jake hadn’t pulled up, you know I would have stubbornly walked 2 kilometers with the 50 pounds of backpack weight on my back instead of tracking them down for a ride.
Rather than return to the Killing Fields and the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum for a second time, I camped out at a cafe while Andrew went across the street to see what he declared to be “the most horrible thing he could have seen.” I read “First They Killed My Father”during my travels, and I highly recommend it, however, it’s simply not one of those books you need to read again, like seeing The Killing Fields, where a large number of Cambodians were killed or the former high-school that was used as Security Prison 21 (S 21) during the Khmer Rouge reign. Tuk-tuk drivers asked over and over again, “You want to see Killing Fields?” and over and over again, I would respond “No! No, I don’t want to see that at all!”
Instead, I hung out at the Boddhi Tree UMMA Cafe. The food wasn’t so great, but the lime-aid drinks, and relaxed atmosphere were superb. Before Andrew went over to S 21, our computers were overtaken by a brother and sister bored with their vending duties. It is not uncommon to see children hawking goods more than adults in Cambodia. It’s not the most pleasant experience, and the practice frustrates me. Even if I want to help the child out, I don’t want to condone the practice by buying anything. It’s always awkward, the feelings that rise up when an adorable 8-13 year old comes up to you. Generally, I will have a short conversation with the poor child slugging around a boxful of illegally copied books, or an armful of bracelets, but I inevitably apologize and tell him or her that I will not be buying anything. They are (usually) better natured and less aggressive than adult vendors who simply don’t. give. up.
(Homegirl amused herself and edited this on my phone before I told her I had to get back to work)
On this particular day, Kon immediately spotted the Facebook tab (not even an open window) on Andrew’s computer, and quickly weaseled his way not only onto Andrew’s computer, but into his Facebook account, and sent himself a friend request. Then he got to work editing a photo of me. Meanwhile, Kon’s little sister came around to my side of the table, asked for an earbud and listened as I edited a video from Vietnam. When we finally shooed them away they camped out at another table playing with an Englishman’s smartphone until his wife and friends met up with him and then bought loads of trinkets from them.
(Kon’s photo editing skills for your viewing pleasure)
That evening, Andrew’s phone buzzed and Kon “accepted” Andrew’s “friend request.” This made us wonder exactly where he was getting online? Does his family have a computer at home, yet they still send him and his sister out after school to sell trinkets to tourists?
p.s. Neither of us were very pleased with how expensive Phnom Penh is. Compared to prices four years ago, it’s astronomical now! $15.63 didn’t get us breakfast, and we split every meal we had simply because after paying $2.00 for meals in Vietnam we had such a hard time spending so much more in the neighboring, less developed country!
When we left Korea, I shipped three years of my life home in boxes of all sizes. Big boxes of bedding, shoes, books I couldn’t part with, even bags of 쌈장 and 된장 (Korean bean pastes) I couldn’t foresee finding in Kentucky and living without. (Not having immediate access to Korean food has been a struggle for both of us already.) When we left Hoi An, a few days ago, we sent a box home of things we brought, or already bought, and didn’t need, and Andrew’s new suit. Not a problem! My dragon, on the other hand proved to be a big. big. problem.
When we got to the Post Office, I left Andrew to write out postcards and walked up to counter 7, where the man eyed my dragon suspiciously and tried to fit it into a box. “Too big!” He declared. “Cannot send. This is the biggest size box you can ship to USA. Cannot send. Go to counter 8.”
Counter 8 turned out to be the DHL counter. They told me I needed a box first. They sent me back to counter 7 for a box.
Counter 7 shook his head at me. “Too big! Cannot send!” he barked. I shook my head to assure him I understood, and asked for a box. He eyed me suspiciously, but took my dragon, and put two printer boxes together to make a new bigger box, fit the dragon right in, and demanded the equivalent of $5.00 for his handiwork.
Back at Counter 8, they shook their head and said it would be very expensive. Wrote down $211.00 on a piece of paper and said it would take 3-5 days. I asked for something slower (cheaper) and they sent me to Counter 6. Counter 6 sends me back to Counter 7. Counter 7 barks at me again, “Too big! No! Cannot send! Go Counter 8!” I go back, to Counter 8. They look at the box again, then do some calculations again, and then they write $593.00 on the same piece of paper they wrote $211.00 on previously. I look at them like they must have made a mistake. I asked for something slower. They informed me they only did express shipping. I pointed to $211.00 and asked what happened. They pointed to $593.00 and waited for me to magically understand. I told them I could not pay $593.00 and plopped my box down next to Andrew, who was – throughout this whole ordeal- still sitting in the middle of the three counters writing out postcards.
“It’s not possible. I can’t send it.” I told him, close to tears, again. (Have I mentioned my emotions have been a little heightened this first month of travel?)
He gets up, takes the box to Counter 6. Gets sent to Counter 7, where the same postal clerk looks at me like I must be missing something in the head. “I’m sorry! Too big! Cannot send!” he tells Andrew. Andrew tries to explain how light it is and asks again why they can’t send it. Counter 7 ignores him. Andrew doesn’t budge. I try to hide, until I eventually see Andrew get sent to Counter 8. The girls at Counter 8 have disappeared. I convince Andrew that it’s not possible, and we take our dragon to the agency where we booked our bus tickets to Cambodia.
The girls at the tour guide agency demand to know what is in the box. I say “Dragon!” and I do the dance. They shake their heads and say we have to talk to the bus driver, maybe the box is too big, and we cannot take it with us. I make the executive decision that I will wear the dragon head on the 5 hour bus ride if I have to. Andrew makes the executive decision to get a motorbike so we can pile as many boxes as we’d like on the back. We walk up to the bus drivers. There are at least five of them. They all look at me suspiciously until one asks what is in the box. “Dragon!” I said again, and again, I do the dance. “Ohhh…” and they respond in Vietnamese, and do the dance. “Yes!” I cry, relieve to see them smiling. One of them demands $10.00, and I say “No way!” and they laugh, repeated “No way!” to each other and put the dragon under the bus.
“Maybe we should just take the dragon with us around the world.” I suggested to Andrew once we got on the bus.
“Maaaybe…” He replied, unconvinced.
