Thursday, December 07, 2006
This Little Piggy Went To Market
Saturday, December 2
Travel Day! Up early, pack and eat, and off we go at 9am sharp. Spirits are high, and the much newer tour bus is redolent with last night’s jasmine leis, some worn on the neck, some bejeweling instrument cases, others in the luggage rack above our heads spreading their olfactory cheer.
The trip out of town is as fast as the incessant traffic will allow, as we pass the Olympic sized stadium, delightful painted statues (a sea goddess wringing her hair, one foot on a crocodile, and later a life-sized elephant being taken down by two attacking tigers), the medical school, dozens of temples and more new construction.
The ride northward to Siem Reap could take anywhere from three to six hours, as no one seems to know for sure (even the ubiquitous Helen who actually lives there and travels to Phnom Penh monthly), so an informal pool immediately begins. Are we talking exact prediction? Closest above, or below the actual time? The gamblers negotiate lightly, as it’s clearly a game of entertainment rather than a true Game of Chance. It becomes clear as we pass traffic in both directions that Americans are incredibly wasteful. Not that this is news, but we’ve been missing a lot of opportunities. Who knew that a little Honda scooter could carry four people? Certainly not the State of California Motor Vehicle Code. Sure, there is such a thing as a Bicycle Built For Two, but why stop at two? Most vehicles carry at least double the number of passengers for which they are designed, plus building supplies, or baskets, or…And who knew that the best seat on any minivan isn’t inside at all, but on the roof – with the more the merrier (seatbelts not included). I know, our children have been telling us that for years [pleeeeeez Mom?] – wisdom from the mouths of babes. Turns out that those same scooters that dart in and out of traffic can also ride on top of vans, sometimes two abreast facing forward, though I saw one van with 4 scooters perched sideways atop a van with so many heads inside I couldn’t count them. And the further one gets into the countryside, the more inventive both the vehicles and their contents become.
Ah, the countryside…we actually traversed about 2/3 of the entire country in one day, and watching the plants, animals and water content of our surroundings change by the hour was a source of constant fascination. Remembering that the Tonle Sap river reverses yearly, flooding the plane and easily doubling or tripling the size of Tonle Sap Lake, it makes perfect sense that most of the structures we pass are on stilts. When the Big Bad Wolf monsoon season comes, it huffs, and it puffs, and blows and blows…and all three little piggies live here: some in houses of straw, some of wood, and some of brick, all on stilts. The amazing thing is that all three types of structures are still standing, in various states of repair. Since the road we travel is the main highway, all housing seems to cling to its slow curves, so we could sample every level of human existence from 3 story chalets with satellite dishes to thatched huts with the floor space of a California King sized bed. The chickens live underneath. When not tied to the house stilts or wandering around the fields, the domestic water buffalo seem to hang out in the front yard, usually in a 10’ x 10’ pool of water that looked like a shallow private rice paddy, until you realize that the black humps moving around in the middle are actually bovine, making them at least 4’ deep.
One strip of road besides the water was lined with stalls selling dried fish, the wares hanging in symmetrical flat, tan fan-shaped clusters. Halfway through the morning, we pulled over at a rest stop that had an open-air restaurant, bathrooms, and dozens of food stands with delectables both recognizable and not. As always, vendors plied their wares by insistently bringing them to face level, assuring in monotone memorized phrases that the contents were the best. The real hit of the smorgasbord was an item that Chinary had been joking about for at least an hour before we arrived: fried insects. Dares and double dares were traded before our arrival, since most imagined crispy ants or grasshopper tempura – no one was prepared for the plates piled high with greasy, black deep-fried tarantulas. Yes, you read that right – tarantulas, and not those dark brown hairy desert types, either. These puppies were black, bald, and Ugly. There were quite a few busloads already pulled up, and one fella was actually playing with a live one, letting it crawl over his hands, while his girlfriend fed him the fried version, one at a time. In case you are wondering, the answer is “No”, no one from our bus sampled the arachnid appetizer, but we did wolf down some sweet rice sticks cooked in banana leaves, and lotus seeds.
More miles, more raucous repartée – Southwest Chamber Music may well be a Grammy Award Winning chamber ensemble, but most of the players could easily hold their own at Open Mic night at the Comedy Club. They are not only fleet of finger, but swift of mind as well: just imagine the best dinner party banter ever, but for hours on end, and you will start to get the picture (and it turns out that our distinguished composer-in-residence, the formidable Dr. Ung is perhaps the funniest of all!).
At lunch, we pull of the road next to a lake, and pile out of the air conditioned bus to enjoy a picnic prepared by the magnificent Helen. Picnic tables with checkered table cloths? Not even close. We climb up five or six rough, wooden ladder slats into open sided thatched platforms on stilts to enjoy our sandwiches, cake, and delightfully nutty tasting miniature bananas. To wash it all down, a young woman brings over a cluster of green coconuts and, one by one, expertly hacks off the thick husk to reveal a spongy membrane which was then pierced with a straw. Voila! Coconut milk that was clear, slightly tangy, and not at all sweet like the Polynesian versions found in SoCal grocery stores. Once the liquid is finished, the husk is split in two to reveal a thin 1/4” layer of gelatinous ‘meat’ that is so soft, it can (and was) scraped off with a piece of husk as a spoon, and gobbled for dessert.
Back on the bus, we continue past infinite variations of stilted houses, personal livestock and rice fields, our driver with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the horn. The staccato beeping, an essential component of Cambodian driving style, was incredibly loud inside the bus, but even that became tolerable, almost imperceptible after a few hours, like a car alarm that the mind decides to ignore. Some even dozed off, until a particularly urgent series of blasts and a sudden slamming of bus brakes brought everyone bolt upright, ready for the oxygen masks to pop down from the ceiling. It seems that the overpiled truck directly in front of us had just lost a large cardboard box which toppled out of the back and split open directly in our path. Some said it contained a small refrigerator, others weren’t sure, but a deft swerve and ample brakage saved the day. Rousing applause for our intrepid busman!
Another roadside attraction was always our fellow travelers, as the variety of vehicles on the road is absolutely astonishing, surpassed only by the quality and quantity of their contents. I’m sorry to report that The Three Little Pigs have finally met their demise. In spite of their best efforts in straw, wood and brick, we saw them carted off to market – all three on the back of a single scooter. But isn’t over ‘til it’s over: though tightly ensconsed in boards & salad greens, some report that the hooves were still twitching, so there still may be a chance for escape!
Entering Siem Reap reversed the process we had experienced leaving Phnom Penh: farms gave way to businesses, houses grew closer together, the livestock disappeared, and the accretion of urban lifestyle (advertisements, scooter showrooms, hotels, etc) finally trumped countryside. Billboards appeared, touting Angkor Wat and the wonderful temples that we would soon be experiencing, and luckily the road was far away from these national treasures.
If Phnom Penh seemed to be booming, Siem Reap is positively exploding with new construction. Past the city center are literally dozens of brand new six or seven story hotels along the single two-lane highway, and many more still in their infancy. A bit like the scores of restaurants, motels of varying quality that ring Disneyland, these establishments are here for one reason only: to service the hundreds of tour buses from all over Asia that come to experience the wonder and mystery of Khmer Culture.
Once we actually found our hotel (making U-turns with a huge touring bus on a crowded outmoded 2-lane highway is no mean feat – we did it twice), room keys were handed out, and the all important Photo ID Pass that was to let us into all World Expo events, the temples and also our meal ticket (worn around the neck on a lanyard, like a backstage pass).
The ‘Tonle Mekong’ restaurant was to become our lunching and dining habitat, just two doors down from the Hotel. And what a habitat it was on that first night as we crossed the gravel parking lot with a dozen or so diesel tour buses parked out front. Walking in, the sight was numbing: dozens of 20 foot long tables with hundreds of people eating away, others speeding back and forth between the glassed off buffet rooms beyond, and all eyes and ears focused on a raucous floor show. Brightly stage lit and highly amplified, seven or eight couples in ‘native’ dress were dancing away and shouting some folk-type melodies to the accompaniment of a pin peat ensemble, the very same mallet, percussion and reed instrumentation that we had heard played by the Royal University of Fine Arts students a few days before.
But this was clearly music for the masses – what someone aptly characterized as a ‘hula’ show where profound cultural assets had been trivialized for the tourists. In fact Chinary, the very man who has returned to Cambodia to help reacquaint the country with it’s ancient classical Khmer heritage, chose to eat in the farthest glass enclosed dining room, and turned his back on the floor show. The man is a realist, of course, and understands the relationship of commerce to the revitalization of the Cambodian economy, but that doesn’t mean he has to have it ruin his dinner.
Travel Day! Up early, pack and eat, and off we go at 9am sharp. Spirits are high, and the much newer tour bus is redolent with last night’s jasmine leis, some worn on the neck, some bejeweling instrument cases, others in the luggage rack above our heads spreading their olfactory cheer.
The trip out of town is as fast as the incessant traffic will allow, as we pass the Olympic sized stadium, delightful painted statues (a sea goddess wringing her hair, one foot on a crocodile, and later a life-sized elephant being taken down by two attacking tigers), the medical school, dozens of temples and more new construction.
The ride northward to Siem Reap could take anywhere from three to six hours, as no one seems to know for sure (even the ubiquitous Helen who actually lives there and travels to Phnom Penh monthly), so an informal pool immediately begins. Are we talking exact prediction? Closest above, or below the actual time? The gamblers negotiate lightly, as it’s clearly a game of entertainment rather than a true Game of Chance. It becomes clear as we pass traffic in both directions that Americans are incredibly wasteful. Not that this is news, but we’ve been missing a lot of opportunities. Who knew that a little Honda scooter could carry four people? Certainly not the State of California Motor Vehicle Code. Sure, there is such a thing as a Bicycle Built For Two, but why stop at two? Most vehicles carry at least double the number of passengers for which they are designed, plus building supplies, or baskets, or…And who knew that the best seat on any minivan isn’t inside at all, but on the roof – with the more the merrier (seatbelts not included). I know, our children have been telling us that for years [pleeeeeez Mom?] – wisdom from the mouths of babes. Turns out that those same scooters that dart in and out of traffic can also ride on top of vans, sometimes two abreast facing forward, though I saw one van with 4 scooters perched sideways atop a van with so many heads inside I couldn’t count them. And the further one gets into the countryside, the more inventive both the vehicles and their contents become.
Ah, the countryside…we actually traversed about 2/3 of the entire country in one day, and watching the plants, animals and water content of our surroundings change by the hour was a source of constant fascination. Remembering that the Tonle Sap river reverses yearly, flooding the plane and easily doubling or tripling the size of Tonle Sap Lake, it makes perfect sense that most of the structures we pass are on stilts. When the Big Bad Wolf monsoon season comes, it huffs, and it puffs, and blows and blows…and all three little piggies live here: some in houses of straw, some of wood, and some of brick, all on stilts. The amazing thing is that all three types of structures are still standing, in various states of repair. Since the road we travel is the main highway, all housing seems to cling to its slow curves, so we could sample every level of human existence from 3 story chalets with satellite dishes to thatched huts with the floor space of a California King sized bed. The chickens live underneath. When not tied to the house stilts or wandering around the fields, the domestic water buffalo seem to hang out in the front yard, usually in a 10’ x 10’ pool of water that looked like a shallow private rice paddy, until you realize that the black humps moving around in the middle are actually bovine, making them at least 4’ deep.
One strip of road besides the water was lined with stalls selling dried fish, the wares hanging in symmetrical flat, tan fan-shaped clusters. Halfway through the morning, we pulled over at a rest stop that had an open-air restaurant, bathrooms, and dozens of food stands with delectables both recognizable and not. As always, vendors plied their wares by insistently bringing them to face level, assuring in monotone memorized phrases that the contents were the best. The real hit of the smorgasbord was an item that Chinary had been joking about for at least an hour before we arrived: fried insects. Dares and double dares were traded before our arrival, since most imagined crispy ants or grasshopper tempura – no one was prepared for the plates piled high with greasy, black deep-fried tarantulas. Yes, you read that right – tarantulas, and not those dark brown hairy desert types, either. These puppies were black, bald, and Ugly. There were quite a few busloads already pulled up, and one fella was actually playing with a live one, letting it crawl over his hands, while his girlfriend fed him the fried version, one at a time. In case you are wondering, the answer is “No”, no one from our bus sampled the arachnid appetizer, but we did wolf down some sweet rice sticks cooked in banana leaves, and lotus seeds.
More miles, more raucous repartée – Southwest Chamber Music may well be a Grammy Award Winning chamber ensemble, but most of the players could easily hold their own at Open Mic night at the Comedy Club. They are not only fleet of finger, but swift of mind as well: just imagine the best dinner party banter ever, but for hours on end, and you will start to get the picture (and it turns out that our distinguished composer-in-residence, the formidable Dr. Ung is perhaps the funniest of all!).
At lunch, we pull of the road next to a lake, and pile out of the air conditioned bus to enjoy a picnic prepared by the magnificent Helen. Picnic tables with checkered table cloths? Not even close. We climb up five or six rough, wooden ladder slats into open sided thatched platforms on stilts to enjoy our sandwiches, cake, and delightfully nutty tasting miniature bananas. To wash it all down, a young woman brings over a cluster of green coconuts and, one by one, expertly hacks off the thick husk to reveal a spongy membrane which was then pierced with a straw. Voila! Coconut milk that was clear, slightly tangy, and not at all sweet like the Polynesian versions found in SoCal grocery stores. Once the liquid is finished, the husk is split in two to reveal a thin 1/4” layer of gelatinous ‘meat’ that is so soft, it can (and was) scraped off with a piece of husk as a spoon, and gobbled for dessert.Back on the bus, we continue past infinite variations of stilted houses, personal livestock and rice fields, our driver with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the horn. The staccato beeping, an essential component of Cambodian driving style, was incredibly loud inside the bus, but even that became tolerable, almost imperceptible after a few hours, like a car alarm that the mind decides to ignore. Some even dozed off, until a particularly urgent series of blasts and a sudden slamming of bus brakes brought everyone bolt upright, ready for the oxygen masks to pop down from the ceiling. It seems that the overpiled truck directly in front of us had just lost a large cardboard box which toppled out of the back and split open directly in our path. Some said it contained a small refrigerator, others weren’t sure, but a deft swerve and ample brakage saved the day. Rousing applause for our intrepid busman!
Another roadside attraction was always our fellow travelers, as the variety of vehicles on the road is absolutely astonishing, surpassed only by the quality and quantity of their contents. I’m sorry to report that The Three Little Pigs have finally met their demise. In spite of their best efforts in straw, wood and brick, we saw them carted off to market – all three on the back of a single scooter. But isn’t over ‘til it’s over: though tightly ensconsed in boards & salad greens, some report that the hooves were still twitching, so there still may be a chance for escape!
Entering Siem Reap reversed the process we had experienced leaving Phnom Penh: farms gave way to businesses, houses grew closer together, the livestock disappeared, and the accretion of urban lifestyle (advertisements, scooter showrooms, hotels, etc) finally trumped countryside. Billboards appeared, touting Angkor Wat and the wonderful temples that we would soon be experiencing, and luckily the road was far away from these national treasures.
If Phnom Penh seemed to be booming, Siem Reap is positively exploding with new construction. Past the city center are literally dozens of brand new six or seven story hotels along the single two-lane highway, and many more still in their infancy. A bit like the scores of restaurants, motels of varying quality that ring Disneyland, these establishments are here for one reason only: to service the hundreds of tour buses from all over Asia that come to experience the wonder and mystery of Khmer Culture.
Once we actually found our hotel (making U-turns with a huge touring bus on a crowded outmoded 2-lane highway is no mean feat – we did it twice), room keys were handed out, and the all important Photo ID Pass that was to let us into all World Expo events, the temples and also our meal ticket (worn around the neck on a lanyard, like a backstage pass).
The ‘Tonle Mekong’ restaurant was to become our lunching and dining habitat, just two doors down from the Hotel. And what a habitat it was on that first night as we crossed the gravel parking lot with a dozen or so diesel tour buses parked out front. Walking in, the sight was numbing: dozens of 20 foot long tables with hundreds of people eating away, others speeding back and forth between the glassed off buffet rooms beyond, and all eyes and ears focused on a raucous floor show. Brightly stage lit and highly amplified, seven or eight couples in ‘native’ dress were dancing away and shouting some folk-type melodies to the accompaniment of a pin peat ensemble, the very same mallet, percussion and reed instrumentation that we had heard played by the Royal University of Fine Arts students a few days before.
But this was clearly music for the masses – what someone aptly characterized as a ‘hula’ show where profound cultural assets had been trivialized for the tourists. In fact Chinary, the very man who has returned to Cambodia to help reacquaint the country with it’s ancient classical Khmer heritage, chose to eat in the farthest glass enclosed dining room, and turned his back on the floor show. The man is a realist, of course, and understands the relationship of commerce to the revitalization of the Cambodian economy, but that doesn’t mean he has to have it ruin his dinner.
# posted by Southwest Chamber Music @ 6:33 AM 
