The Years End

Well, this year has suddenly come to its last day. For me, it's been one of the biggest and most eventful years of my life. With college graduation and moving to Cambodia I'd probably guess it's the most eventful and impactful to date. It seems almost impossible to think that a year ago, I was preparing to move back to Ithaca for the last time. Never mind preparing for the last semester of college but only seven months ago I was standing near the 40 yard line at Butterfield Stadium. Then there was a quick couple of months at home to work for the summer, a random decision, and before I knew it, I was standing in front of a class of Cambodians who can speak some English and I had become the authority figure of the room. Ahead of me lies many big and very important decisions. When I get home I have to ultimately make the decision of what I want to start as a job/career, or if I even want to. And the most important, which will have the biggest impact on my immediate life is where to move. But that decision lies off in the horizon, although I should learn that decision time will come faster than I can imagine, judging how quickly I found myself in Cambodia...

Anyway, Christmas was quite the adventure. We got up for our bus and were out the door by 7 am. Sihanoukville was only 4 hours away, and we were all more than willing to pay the extra two dollars per person to not have to put up with karaoke on the bus. We arrived around noon and we decided to change and head down to the beach right away. After a tuk tuk driver (who turned out to be our personal driver/stalker for the trip) got us down to the beach, the party began... for most people. We sat down for some lunch on one of the dozens of beachside huts, where some ate Khmer food while others indulged in western foods. The whole time we were eating we were being heckled to no end by kids who trolled the beach for people who would buy their junk, or get so annoyed with their unrelenting sales pitch they would throw their money at them just so they would leave. Some of the group bought bracelets, while others got pampered at the table with manicures and pedicures for a whopping three or four dollars. After we finished eating and had a couple of beers, we migrated out from under the hut to the beach and into the chairs laid out on the beach. Me being me, I immediately went swimming. The water was shockingly warm, and I was most surprised at how salty the water was. Other places in the world I've noticed the water was a bit saltier than home, but this was almost overwhelming. I've read about the Dead Sea and how you can float so easily because of the amount of salt in the water. This was similar, I was able to stay afloat without any effort. At home you may bob up and down depending on the amount of air in your body, but here you could take the biggest breath possible and not move an inch. After a good amount of time in the water I went back up to the beach and again, me being me, fell asleep on my towel while everyone else sat in the sun and kept the party going. Although I think one of my major reasons for falling asleep with my t-shirt over my face was so children (especially Pin with his ironic hipster glasses without lenses) would stop yelling in my face and calling me "bad man" for not buying their bracelets.

As the sun started to set, we all decided to head back to the Kangaroo Kitchen to change and get ready to go out for the night. After showers and dinner at the restaurant downstairs (our saving grace all weekend) we headed back down to the beach where all the bars were competing of your business and we found the one with a beirut table (aka "beer pong" to the commoners) and beers that cost us a mere 25 cents. The subsequent four to six hours is a blend of dubstep, more drinks, sweat, foreigners, more drinks, and of course some night swimming. Where one person had the ingenious idea to swim out to a boat and jump on... definitely NOT me... Anyway we all made it back to the hostel at a "reasonable" hour and safely got to bed.

The next day was basically more of the same. Some went to the beach to get some sun and drinks while  Rich, Liza and I had more of a quiet day and headed to the central market. It was pretty similar to the Russian market but much less crowded and spread over a larger space. After some time walking around we headed back to the hostel, which to our surprise had changed names to the Wolf's Den bar and guesthouse.... We slowly came to learn that our guesthouse had changed owners only four days before our arrival and that the current owner had moved to Sihanoukville from Thailand because Cambodia has no extradition laws. So we had been told by him that "we didn't see him there." So for the rest of the trip we tread lightly around him. The rest of the day was filled with a nap and hanging out until the rest of the group got home. As the night began we decided that the next morning we would take a boat trip around to some islands that left at 8am, so we had to watch ourselves. The previous night we were told about a party on a private beach that is owned by the prime minister (which I still doubt) that a bar had rented out and they were having a huge Christmas party. You just had to pay 10 dollars for the boat ride and you'd get drinks for the same price. At first we all planned on going but as the time got closer to get to the boat, only three people ended up going to the beach. The rest of us went back to the bar from the previous night and much to our surprise, we had quarter beers and then from 11pm to 2am was free drinks to show their appreciation for our patronage. Again the night was filled with the same: dubstep, drinks, sweat and foreigners. Somewhere squashed in the middle of the night was a phone call to my brother that lasted only a few minutes, the contents of which I could not be asked to recall. But, before I knew it, I was waking up to an alarm at 7:15am for our boat trip. We came to realize that at least three people had eating a salad with raw crab the night before and had been up all night paying the price. And in a very comedic moment, I walked out of my room and saw one of our members walking up the stairs who had just left the private beach party in order to make it back for the boat trip... And to my surprise after looking in the mirror I noticed that I had a cut on my nose and on my forehead, which appeared without my knowledge. Needless to say, we all went back to bed with some people staying in bed for the rest of the day in the fetal position.

The rest of the trip was more or less the same. Some people went out the last night, while some stayed in to give their livers a bit of a rest. The next day I decided to wake up and take one final swim since it will be my last for quite sometime. Luckily I made a last minute decision to go to a different beach, where there were very few tourists and no huts or hecklers on the beach. Then it was back to the hotel to shower and get back on the bus. By noon we were back on the road, and we eventually got home by 4. Everyone looked and felt like zombies and no one did much of anything, except dread the next day when we would return to class. The rest of the week has been filled with sickness passing from person to person, most likely due to shattered immune systems.

This whole part of the story that makes up life in Cambodia is the most bizarre to me. In class our students see us as these upstanding people who are spending our time volunteering in a country that most could not find on a map. Then on the weekends we devolve into gluttons of liver punishment. The students however have no idea. I almost feel like I'm living a double life at times. And the whole time I think about this, I can't help but think of teachers in middle and high school who must have had the same existence?

Well that basically sums up the Sihanoukville experience: alcohol, loud music, foreigners, and even more alcohol.

Now I need to write a quick note about my last few weeks in Cambodia that I've made my decision on. The semester end on February 19th, and I dont' fly home until April 3rd. As of a week or so ago, I've heard about people buying a moto and riding around Southeast Asia. Thus I have found my totally irrational and exciting six weeks after semester ends. Right now I'm either going to buy a Honda Win in Saigon, or a previous volunteer from CWF might sell me her moto, so that remains to be seen. But the strangest part of this... I've never driven a moto. But I figure I've got a few months to work it out, and I've been riding a bike around here so I am a little used to the rules of the road, it's just that a moto is faster paced. It's all going to be an adjustment. What I found most surprising is how my mom reacted. Not a single word of objection, well not spoken at least. It's going to be a process to get everything sorted out, but I've already started the process. As of yesterday I got my temporary Cambodian drivers license, which is all in Khmer and the only thing that is in English on it is my name. In a months time, I'll have my real Cambodian license, which is more of a precaution if I get pulled over in another country instead of just having my Massachusetts state license. The process to get it was beyond easy, I went to a place that sold motos and gave them a copy of my passport and visa, three passport sized photos, my license, and 32 dollars.

Well it appears that 2012 is creeping up on us with only a few hours to go before 2011 is in the past. Like 2011, the new year seems to bring some life changing events upon my return home, but at the same time looking forward to tonight seems to be the same gluttonous punishment done to my liver as in the past, so who knows how much things really change in a year.




Anyway, Happy New Year!