How to Visit Kep

A Weekend Away

Kep has two pronunciations. Foreigners read it phonetically like it is, "kep." Cambodians pronounce "KI-pe." This is because the Khmer alphabet cannot be accurately translated into English due to strange sounds nonexistent in English. Why is any of this important? It's not, really. I just wish it was spelled differently.

I lived in Cambodia almost 2.5 years without properly visiting Kep. Expats who live in Cambodia were appalled. Kep is only about five hours south by bus (faster by car) and a highly popular expat weekend getaway. Cambodians prefer the much more developed (possibly overdeveloped, occasionally irritating) Kampong Som/Sihanoukville.  Kep is a sleepy town. There isn't much beach to speak of due to the rocks, but you can get very tasty crab and other seafood. The guesthouses and hotels cater to expats and from what I've heard, there has been an explosion of amenities in recent years.

I went down to mourn the late King Sihnaouk's Cremation. Since we were given two additional days off from work (on top of the 17 public holidays) and because Phnom Penh was flooded with people for this rare once-in-a-lifetime occasion, getting away was only logical. Kep was also busy, foreigners looking to get away from the closed streets and businesses. We had a hard time finding a hotel in Kep the week before when arranging hotels. I took a bus down with friends to meet other friends.

We did all the things that one does in Kep. We laid by the pool and caught the sun. We walked down to the crab market and ate crab in the tiny little wooden restaurants overlooking the water. We went down to the beautiful "Sailing Club" where we enjoyed beverages at white tables in the sand, and walked down the dock at sunset. We (I) went kayaking and admired the restful little town from the distance of the ocean, the water shallow and warm.

Our biggest adventure was to Bokhor Mountain in Kampot. Kampot is only 20 miles away from Kep. We rented little green automatic motos and zipped along the awful awful road for an good hour to get to Kampot. From Kampot it was another hour of driving up the windy "mountain" (more like a large hill) overlooking the sea. It was easily one of my favorite Cambodia experiences. Three were also many Cambodians making this adventure traveling in cars. Since there are no rest areas, they pull off on the road and picnic.

Leaving for Bokhor, we were clean and tanned. Returning, we were a different color.  For one, we were covered in red dust. Secondly, (and I speak for myself) we were painfully roasted from an excruciating sunburn. (My Aussie friends lather up in sunblock while I from North America refuse to believe the sun is actually that strong. When I do learn this point, I quickly forget). Alas, what is a good trip without a good sunburn.

Coming back on the bus from our long weekend away (which is just painfully tortuously long given that it's so freaking close!), I realized just how blessed I am. When I first came to Cambodia, I didn't know I could take a quick and relatively inexpensive jaunt out of town with friends for a long weekend. And yet, here I am. Entirely blessed.

Kep is what you make it. If you want to relax, eat some good food, and spend time with friends, it's the perfect place. Also, you can call it "Kep" or "KI-pe," whatever works for you.

How a King's Cremation Unfolds

4 February 2013

This will be the final in what has evolved into an ongoing series of posts about the King Father, former King Sihanouk. It's not often a monarch passes away, even if Cambodia is pretty far off the map. After the 101 days of laying-in-state embalmed at the Royal Palace, the long-process of honoring a former leader (as well as this blog series) drew to a close.

Cremation is the preferred method of sending a person into the afterlife in Cambodia. Normally the family takes the body to the local wat. Because of Sihanouk's status, he was built a special crematorium next to the Royal Palace enveloping what was once a park in front of the Royal Museum. Building this crematorium required suspending the law prohibiting cremations within the city (and outside a wat) in Phnom Penh. The structure was at least four-storey high surrounded by a square of seating areas. Costs were rumored to have run between $1 million to $4 million for this temporary crematorium which also functioned as an exciting stop for domestic tourism (seriously, it's very popular).

To launch the final of the Sihanouk related events, we started by taking extra holidays. This is the natural first step, predictably so. We took Friday 1 February and Monday 4 February off. 

Commemorative 1000 riel bill for the occasion

The events kick-started on Friday with a parade around Phnom Penh. Businesses along the route were mandated to close and crowds turned out to view the parade and the golden sarcophagus. The followers were dressed in white and black, carrying lotus flowers and wearing the obligatory black ribbons pinned to their white shirts.

The parade carried on for two days. Throughout this period, there was speeches, chanting monks, grieved mourners and a general somber spirit. Finally on February 4, Sihanouk was finally cremated. At exactly 6pm, friends and I turned on the TV to see the event. The pyre was lit off-screen by the current king (Sihanouk's son) and all the cameras were turned off. From a distance, smoke rose into the night along with fireworks. (Apparently, simultaneous fireworks are very trendy these days.) 

On Tuesday, the king and his mother sprinkled the ashes at the confluence of the Mekong, Tonle Sap and the Bassac Rivers. The rest were stored in an urn inside the Palace. 

Everyday is a learning day in the Kingdom. I'm only 50 percent sure I ever understand what's happening and this event was in keeping with that trend. However, as an era draws to a close, farewell Sihanouk. 

How to Wear this Shoe

What to call them? Where to wear them?

This post will be short. I cannot resist this post. I simply must do justice to the humblest of all shoes, the shoe that represents life as I know it. The photo above is of my favorite shoes. I wear them easily six days a week. In Cambodia, easily over half of the population wears this type of shoes.

But what to call these shoes? I've identified six different English names for these shoes from my personal interactions,

• Slops- South Africa
• Slippers- Zambia
• Jangles- Kiwi
• Thongs- Australia
• Pluggers- Australia
• Flip-flops-USA
• Shoes- Cambodia

I enjoy using these various terms. I also enjoy trying to use the correct term with the correct audience so that they become confused and ask which country I call home.

Flip flops work in Cambodia for several reasons; cheap, accommodation the climate, withstand seasonal flooding well, and easily slide on and off. Cambodia has revolutionized my understanding of shoes. My mother has long teased that I'm the type of person who will make people take of their shoes when they enter my home. (Yes, I am that type of person.) Funny thing is that in Cambodia, it's cultural to take our shoes off at the door of people's homes. At both my offices, we take our shoes off at the door. It's not terribly uncommon at workplaces in general. On the average weekday, I only wear my shoes to drive.

Both at work and home, people may have designated "indoor shoes" which are never worn outside. Taking off your shoes is cultural, but it's also practical. By taking off your shoes, you leave dust, mud, germs, and sewer sludge outside your home. Floors inside businesses, homes and offices are arguably the cleanest surfaces in the country because there is the expectation you will be barefoot.

There's no doubt I will be taking the no-shoes rule with me..."So I know you're wearing Converse with all those laces and socks, but would you please leave them at the door? Thanks so much." There's also no doubt I will purposefully call flip-flops by an alternative name with other Americans, because, I'm that type of person.

How to Harvest Rice

A January highland involved visiting the farm of a former guard with my organization. He retired recently but was gracious enough to invite us all to his home where he gave us a hands-on demonstration on rice harvesting. Since my job entails sitting in an office and brainstorming ways to measure attitudes changes, I haven't had much opportunity to learn the basics of rice farming. This is somewhat unfortunate, given how much rice I eat. However, I will outline the lessons I learned on this day.

1. Plant rice
2. In due time, harvest rice. This entails cutting the stalks, long strands of what almost looks like hay. You tie a handful together and then cut it near the root.
3. Let it dry for several days in the sun.
4. Thrash the stalks against a hard surface. You do this with a tarp on the ground. The rice is loosed and falls from the stalk to the tarp. At this point, it's in a little "shell" or "seed hull" The unwanted stalks are later feed to animals.
5. Run the rice through a mill-like devise, which is hand cranked. This "machine" blowing air on the rice separates the grass and the chaff from the rice particles. 
6. The rice is dried for several more days.
7. Take the rice to a local miller who has a machine that will break the rice out of the "shell" or "seed hull" into the little white grains that we all know. You can supposedly do this by hand, but it's a lot of work.

After a few hours of "hard work," we enjoyed a delicious lunch of Cambodian curry and rice noodles. We walked around the little farm, harvested a few green coconuts for their juice, saw the chickens and the growing herbs and allowed the neighbors to be amused by our presence. 

Statistically speaking, 80% of Cambodians are rural farmers. The majority grow their own rice. Rice is consumed with every single meal. In Khmer, the verb "to eat" is directly translated "eat rice." You can't separate eating from rice. There is nothing  more closely aligned with the human existence or with basic human needs, than rice. There's no comparison in Western cultures. Bread does not even come close. For those of us who live in Cambodia, we learn quickly to stoically eat rice, a funny little grain that holds the very essence of life. And when I leave Cambodia, without any doubt, I will still eat rice.

How I saw former King Sihanouk

One Saturday, mid-afternoon, Mony, the director of my partner organization, called me. He rarely calls on the weekend. I was mystified. He said that their letter to the committee had been approved and that the next day, Sunday, several staff members from my partner organization were going to the Royal Palace to pay respects to the body of the late king Sihanouk. We were meeting at the office at 12:30pm and would head to the Royal Palace from there. Did I want to come?

I was really, really, really worried it was an open casket. Sihanouk died in October and Mony was calling me mid-January. However, after a pros and cons list, I decided that there was no other way I would have such an opportunity, so absolutely, I would go. Upon later reflection, an open casket also seemed unlikely.

I considered my appearance for such an occasion, and opted for modest and classy. However, when I arrived at the appointed meeting place, I realized I completely messed up. The appropriate funeral attire in Cambodia is a white top and black trousers for men and black skirt for women (women can't wear trousers, by I digress). I had forgotten this social expectation entirely. When I asked Khmer colleague if I was dressed incorrectly, I received a very Khmer response: a chuckle followed by "I don't know." Thankfully, several of my female colleagues had brought extra clothes and redressed me in the correct attire, proclaiming that I looked much better that way anyway.

After all pinning black ribbons to our tops, we piled in a mini-van and headed to the Royal Palace. Several relatives of various colleagues also tagged along totaling 22 people, all in matching attire (except for the pastor). Outside the palace were many other groups like ours who had come for the same purpose, and in matching attire. It was also something of a market with hawkers setting food, souvenirs and trinkets.

At the appointed 2pm, we queued up in front of the Palace gates. This is the only time I have seen people queue in 2.5 years in Cambodia. We filed through the metal detectors, and towards the back of the palace complex where there was a giant tent with plastic chairs queued in the same forward direction. Each group who had come to see the king were seated in one segment to wait their turn. It was extremely organized which proved to me that organization it's just a German or American thing. [Henceforth, I expect more of this country.]

We had to wait a good thirty minutes for our turn. I quickly got bored and cranky. Various colleagues chatted up their friends or relatives in other groups. One colleague explained that there was a special committee set up in the wake of Sihanouk's death. Any community or organization group could write to that committee and get permission to see Sihanouk.

When it was our turn, we removed our shoes and queued, hands positioned in a prayer like position. We ascended about 30 steps into the chamber where Sihanouk was housed. The room was decorated almost entirely in white, a color unofficially representing mourning. It was also very cold with large AC units in each corner. Sihanouk was in a giant gold and white traditional casket in the center.

As we entered, a monk chanted something and we dropped on our knees, bowing forward so our open palms touched the floor, then back up with our hands in the prayer position. We did this movement three times, and then stood again, hands still clasped in front of us. Hardly 30 seconds later, we queued out. As we left, we bowed deeply to a member of the royal family who clasped our prayer-like hands on the way out. At a Khmer funeral, the spouse or a child of the deceased should greet every person who comes to see the body. Apparently the royal family was rotating through it's membership. I was informed she was an auntie. After this, we retrieved our shoes and queued past the tent where other groups waited and back to our van.

More then anything, it was a profoundly surreal experience. How often does this happen, that a monarch and icon passes away and we can go? How fortunate/tragic that this event occurred while I was in Cambodia? Why couldn't we have observed the chamber and casket for a little longer?

Mony and I agreed on two things the next day at work. First, this was a historical event and we are thankful for the opportunity to participate. Secondly, that somehow, "seeing" Sihanouk provides some sort of cathartic experience for many Cambodians. I'm not Cambodian, but I learned something about Cambodia that day.

How to Visit Bali

Back in August 2012, my friend Rachel and I were at a baby shower. We realized and neither of us had Christmas plans. We went back to her apartment and researched where the cheapest flights in December would take us. The best option was Bali. This is how we decided to go to Bali.

Last year, my family lived in East Timor and they went to Bali repeatedly. I therefore decided I needed to go to Bali as well. Originally, we planned to go to Bali together this Christmas. However, they moved to Haiti so I went without them.

I'm still learning how to do [survive? endure? enjoy? ignore?] Christmas as a grown-up. One important lesson I have learned is that without your family, you make your friends your family and you fill your time with fun. I appreciate Rachel making my 24th Christmas absolutely excellent.

Balinese Highlights

Singapore!! I greatly love Singapore. You could eat of the street in Singapore. Everything is perfect, ordered, clean, modern and beautiful. Both coming and going to Bali, we had an overnight layover in Singapore. This offered the unique opportunity of finally seeing the "Gardens by the Bay" with the famous "Supertrees." We even walked on the suspended platform around the Supertrees for some of the most glorious views of the city and the Flyer. We also met up with a friend of Rachel's at a cute coffee shop where we ate the most delicious (and expensive) cheesecake I've ever experienced.

Beaches (Kuta): Bali's beaches are legendary and they did not fail to disappoint. The main beach town is Kuta which is where all the drunk Aussies party. The bars open at 3pm, bar after bar after bar and Aussies wandering around town in bikinis, shirtless and in board shorts. We wandered the art market, wandered the mall with all the Western shops we can't get in Cambodia, and walked along the beautiful beaches. We stayed a good 20 minutes outside of Ubed close to a quieter beach.

Ubed: Ubed is known as a cultural center of Bali. This is where you go to escape the drunk Aussies [hey! even the Aussies know they are frightfully annoying in Bali!]. In Ubed you find art, temples, yoga and meditation and adorable cafes and vegetarian friendly restaurants. It's in the hills along a windy little road well over a kilometer long. We explored the little boutiques and temples, overwhelmed by the adorableness and yet touristy feel of everything. Our hotel was further outside down in the middle of a rice field, a little villa all to ourselves.

Rafting: I wasn't immediately down for this activity. However, with some convincing, I relented. After all, saying that you went rafting in Bali makes for the best story. Our trip was about two hours long on class three rapids. Thankfully, we started far up river with the good rapids and few other people. The river was almost in a gorge and you looked up and cliffs and jungle vines. I was almost over stimulated by all the colors and the vivid green! It may be one of the most beautiful places I've seen, in all my worldwide adventures. The river was warm and shallow and though we never actually fell off the raft, we got completely and utterly soaked.

Moto driving and Rice: Much to our amusement, in Ubed the roads are really only one lane wide. They are windy and small and vehicles must crawl around curves to make room for each other. We know this because we rented a moto one day and drove far out into the countryside. We saw beautiful rice fields, beautiful temples, and Indonesians living their lives completely unaware of the chaotic touristy invasion onto their island. We stalked the elusive volcano that dominates the Bali horizon, but clouds intercepted our quest.

Starbucks: We don't have Starbucks in Cambodia. It's not a problem because we have Brown, Blue Pumpkin and Java. However, whenever you leave Cambodia, Starbucks is something of a signpost that you've reach civilization. This signpost, we only visited five times? or was it six? Who knows, but we hit the entire holiday drink menu...possibly twice. We actually spent the better part of Christmas afternoon playing card games at Starbucks.

Indonesian & Indian Food: Indonesian food is amazing. Anything covered in peanut sauce is amazing. By far the highlight of our trip was an Indian restaurant with the most amazing Indian food I have tasted in my life. We also found a favorite cafe restaurant in Ubed (Kue) which we frequented three times. Any holiday must be filled with amazing good, and this was no exception.

Games: Rachel can be strongly credited for helping me discover what was already within me...a love for board games. We kept a running score of the hours of games we played in Bali...Carcassonne, Dominion, Monopoly Deal, Lost Cities, and Blocus. I may have won the overall Bali game tournament, but Rachel never tallied the actual score but pretty sure I was just barely ahead.

How not to visit Da Lat

Staff retreat number three for 2012 wins as the most exotic and unexpected retreat of the past two years. This was also my third staff retreat with my most beloved partner organization. As a fitting tribute to our third year together, the crowning jewel of a destination was none other than…Vietnam. Excitement about this retreat had begun all the way back in August, followed up by many meetings to discuss various options.

For about half of the staff in my partner organization, this was their first time out of the country. This was a big deal. It was also my first time to Vietnam, even though I live five hours from the border. The chosen destination was Da Lat (otherwise known as Dalat). Da Lat is famous as a French getaway town in the highlands north of Ho Chi Minh City (otherwise known as Saigon or HCMC). In Da Lat, there are strawberries and local wine and its famous for being beautiful, cool and it's distinctly European architecture. 

I thought I was going to Da Lat for two days, plus two days of travel. I was quite looking forward to the adventure! I was interested to seeing everyone’s reactions, as well as resuming my "awkward moment" posture which I take on work adventures (smile and analyze). I was interested to see Vietnam which creates love/hate reactions. Instead, well, see for yourself.

Monday: I arrived at the meeting location at the designated 5am. We proceeded to pick up various staff members and finally got to the border crossing around 9am. In totality, we spent 17 hours in the road. There was some complaining that we only stopped every two hours for snacks/bathroom/etc instead of every one hour. Our driver also insisted on driving under the speed limit, which was downright weird. It was also interesting to observe how Cambodians are treated at the Cambodian boarder.

Favorite Memories: Taking pictures outside every gas station when we refueled ("Look Mom! I'm in Vietnam!!") Seeing wild fields of marijuana alongside the road like grass (pretty sure it was marijuana!). The nativity sets with tin-foil backdrops outside almost every business.

Tuesday: Tuesday we had the entire day in Da Lat! I wore a sweater most the day! I also enjoyed spending time with our staff and we found many of the same things interesting. Our adventures included:

• Visiting a garden where one takes pictures (Cambodians love taking photos )
• Visiting a valley where one takes pictures (Taking still more pictures)
• Visiting Bao Dai's Summer Palace (Vietnamese history)
• Taste tasting local fruits/juices/jams
• A waterfall visit involving a small roller coaster
• Nap time (during which I found a cute coffee shop for my introverted "me time")
• Night/evening market
• Two team building exercises 

Favorite Memories: Taking photos in front of every single imaginable flower/plant. Being paranoid that the Vietnamese were going to cheat us. Everyone buying winter hats because it was 68F. 

Wednesday: We left at 8am to drive back Ho Chi Minh City. This trip took eight hours. On the way, I learned that we would be leaving HCMC very early the next morning for Phnom Penh. I was extremely vexed for having not realized this earlier and arranged to stay an extra day, though I suspected the decision had been made hours beforehand (Cambodian style). At any rate, this day involved spending eight hours on a bus with my audio book and struggling to feel positive about my driving tour through Southern Vietnam. Upon reaching the outskirts of HCMC, we went to a Chinese-themed amusement park which was completely empty except for us. We had dinner on a boat outside the city followed by a driving tour through the fancy districts of HCMC.

Favorite Memories: Shock and awe at HCMC overpass/flyovers. Wonder and awe at Vietnamese development. The realization by my colleagues that I possess substantial knowledge about traveling in Southeast Asia and that this information is useful to them.

Thursday: We got up at 7am, went to the large HCMC market, left HCMC at 10am and arrived back in Phnom Penh by 5pm. 

Favorite Memories: Getting home and being alone again! The preference for markets over stores.

In conclusion, I would not trade this trip for anything. My soul was refreshed in the few precious hours spent in lush green with rolling hills, trees and flowers familiar to my North American eye. Any opportunity to see green is highly valued by Phnom Penh-ers. I rarely get to travel with Cambodians and I love my colleagues and seeing the world through their eyes. However, we all agreed overwhelmingly that it was just too short of a trip!