The Little Things

A lot of my posts have been really negative lately, so I thought I’d write about the things that don’t make me want to go home. They’re not major enough to warrant their own entries, but no less important are they to my sanity and ability to keep living this Khmer life.

My breakfast lady: My breakfast lady is this stooped over 60-something who knows everyone and is always yelling orders to someone or other. She knows I like vegetables so she always gives me an extra scoop of vegetables whenever I order. She also knows I don’t like liver so she always leaves it out. Whenever I’m gone for more than a weekend she’ll ask where I went. She once even helped me bargain with the fabric lady when I was buying a sarong. Like I said, she knows everyone in the market, and is always in everyone’s business.  99% of the mornings spent at site, I eat bon chayu for breakfast, which is a Khmer dish that involves raw vegetables, packets of batter (roughly looks like an omelet but there are no eggs involved) that are fried with vegetables inside, and topped with some kind of noodle, peanuts, meat, and a tangy sauce. There are two vendors at the market that sell these delicious treats, and my host mom had warned me against my breakfast lady because her station isn’t always the cleanest. However, when I went over to try the “clean” lady’s breakfast bon chayu, it wasn’t nearly as delicious. So now, I secretly eat at my dirty place, knowing that flavor in exchange for possible (though it’s never happened) food poisoning is fair any day.

My fried treats lady: There are afternoons when I’m feeling particularly peckish and dinner isn’t for another three hours. These are the times when I wander over to the market and buy a few fried treats to tide me over. I have a favorite fried treat lady too—this 50-something lady with about three teeth who sells fried sweet potatoes and fried bananas. She’ll let me pick at the fried bits (fried batter bits that have fallen off the potatoes/bananas) that are on her tray while I’m waiting for my fresh order of fried potatoes. She doesn’t really have much to say, but that three-toothed smile she cracks every time I thank her is worth the trip alone.

My siblings: They are ever-patient in helping me speak Khmer, and are super quick to offer me some of whatever they’re eating—whether it’s a green mango they picked off our tree (just couldn’t wait for it to ripen) or a half-peeled potato they’re munching on just for shits and giggles. They are also sources of great entertainment as they bicker back and forth in the sibling fashion I’m all too familiar with. Since being here, my brother has fashioned two fishing rods, four kites, and countless other devices from everyday trash to have fun with. My sister has the penchant to run around half-naked with a towel around her head because she’s having too much fun to take a shower. They like to imitate me every time I let out an “Oh my God” because I am surprised or scared. Their imitation accent is impeccable.

My host mother: Not the most warm person in terms of facial expression and spoken language, but her actions by far trump any of her words. I will come back from a weekend away and all of my dirty laundry will be done. She sweeps my floor and wipes down my desk when I am at work. She constantly offers me bong aim (desserts of assorted variety), fruits, sugar cane, and other treats. Whenever I need information on how to get somewhere, she will put me in contact with the right person. When my boyfriend and I broke up, she told me to stop thinking about it and concentrate on work so that when I get back to America I’ll find someone better to love (we have since gotten back together—Cambodia is too hard to fend alone). During this period she also bought me various cakes and treats to “take my mind off things”. Always looking out for me, she’ll warn me against going too far, staying out too late, or paying too much for anything.

My language tutor: Never a dull day with this guy. Our lessons range from reading out of my grade 2 textbook to talking about the “House of Representatives” in the Cambodian government to how he thinks the king is gay to how much he sold his motorbike for. Lately he’s been ending our lessons with, “See you tomorrow, I want to help you to know everything about Cambodia.” What more can I ask for?

My colleagues: Always game for shooting the shit or answering any Khmer questions I may have. They never judged me (at least not to my face) for my ineffectiveness at the health center and were always willing to explain to patients who came in I was here to help. Hat tip to my supervisor, who does all of this and still manages to get some friendly jibes in.

My students: I know I haven’t had students for a particularly long time yet (2 days), but this morning, it took extreme effort to get out of bed and bike the 3k to school to teach. By the time the second hour had ended, however, I was okay. I was even feeling kind of good. The students I teach are not particularly gifted at English (some are, most aren’t), but we bumble along in a mixture of Khmer and English. Their fascination at having a native speaker in their presence and willingness to talk to me and ask questions (a favorite is “Are you married?” and my answer of “No” is always followed by a chorus of awkward giggles) and volunteer (my co-teacher says that I get much more volunteering than he does when he asks questions) have just the ability to turn my morning around.

My (other) colleagues: Most of the teachers at the school know enough English to carry on a decent conversation. Today they were discussing their New Year’s Faculty Retreat to Kampong Saom and invited me to go along. The school would pay for the trip and the accommodations (with what money? Maybe that money would have been better suited paying for photocopies of tests so students don’t have to pay for them out of pocket). All we would need to pay for is food…but unfortunately, I already have plans to celebrate New Year’s with fellow PCVs. Everyone giggled awkwardly when I said I was so sad I wouldn’t be able to join them, but a few asked for my phone number and told me it’s okay, they will call me someday and I will go have rice at their house. Watch out, Katie Gilbert. Someone’s about to raise the number of houses she’s had rice at to 3.

My tailor: She’s the wife of my language tutor so we see each other quite often. If I have a broken button or clasp she’s the first one I go to for my fix, and she’ll often do it free of charge. Recently I’ve given her the task of making teaching clothes for me: button down shirts and skirts that are appropriate for school. Her craftsmanship is unbeatable as several Khmer thought the shirt I wore a few days ago was bought ready-made. And because I’m her husband’s student, she cuts me the student discount. Holla.

My getting used to my toothpaste: I recently bought a tube of Colgate toothpaste with Salt. At first I thought, okay, whatever, baking soda is a salt so how bad can it be? It’s Colgate, after all. Well, think again. That shit was the saltiest thing I’ve ever put in my mouth. I spent a few weeks in agony brushing my teeth because it was so unbearably salty. But now, I barely even notice it. In fact, I find it saltily pleasant. I kind of see this as my life in Cambodia as well—at first it was overwhelmingly different from what I’m used to, but now I find it rather pleasant, salty toothpaste and all.

The kids who live near the health center: They never fail to say hi to me when I bike by. Sometimes they’ll even come into the health center and sit by me, talking and playing games. I once explained who I am and why I am here to them and now whenever I pass by them with adults that don’t know me, I can hear them explaining to them who I am and why I am here. Also, they’re adorable as shit, all gap-toothed and knobbly-kneed.

Happy Holidays, everyone! May the coming year be filled with health, prosperity, and love—warmest wishes from your favorite PCV!