Things that Remind Me of Cambodia

This time last year, I was in Cambodia and even though I was only there for three months, not a day goes by when I don’t think about the place and its people. It’s the trivial things that take me back – ordinary everyday objects that didn’t have any meaning to me before – and put a smile on my lips.

Mangoes, for example. Because Cambodia is situated near the Equator, its climate is tropical and fruits, in general, are much more sweeter than what we get in Australia. The pineapples, watermelons and mangoes that I had in Cambodia were just epic. But more than the actual taste of those sweet-as mangoes, the thing that I’m reminded of more is the company I had when I had those mangoes.

I used to get dragged out of my room and peaceful solitude for these late-night ‘snacks’ by Kyung Sun unni, a missionary I lived with during my stay and about twenty years my senior. She would slice up a mango and shove it under my nose defiantly. I would try to tell her that it was already 11p.m. and I didn’t feel like eating, but in the end, after minutes of nagging, cajoling and plea, I would give in to her girlish charm and we would devour all the mangoes we had in the house.

Motorbikes are another thing that remind me of Cambodia. Although there aren’t that many in Australia, there are more than you can count if you step out onto a mainroad in Cambodia. It is their prime mean of transportation, and it serves every purpose – a ride to school, a taxi, and also a family car. I used to catch a motorbike taxi, called mo-to-dop, every day to get to the orphanage to teach English and although I grabbed onto the seat from fear of falling off the first two days or so, I was able to ride on it afterwards with my hands comfortably resting on my thighs, like a true blue Cambodian.

Other fragments of memories include: the wind whipping through my hair, haggling before getting on the motodop, drivers surrendering when I used my last-resort phrase, ‘ssang jjoh hauei’ (meaning petrol prices have gone down already), and the drivers who recognised me by the end of my stay and took me to where I wanted to go at the desired price without any verbal exchange but a hello and thank you. Another memory I have with motorbikes is when my friend, Kyung Sun unni and I got on a Cambodian friend’s scooter on a whim and shouted ‘Ddau pteah’ or let’s go home, until he drove us home, the four of us on the one scooter and almost dying from laughing.

Speaking of transportation, bicycles remind me of Cambodia too. Bicycles, like motorbikes, are ubiquitous in Cambodia. It isn’t difficult to see a small child riding a bicycle three times his/ her size. With ease, I might add. The sight of a boy jumping on a bike that was double his height in length never ceased to amaze me. There was a night when one of the Cambodian staff hired by the NGO that I served with, a sweet girl named Lida, taught me how to ride a bike. I still don’t know how to ride one but I remember having an absolute blast, forging a deeper friendship with every stumble and burst of laughter that it didn’t matter.

Cambodians like everything sweet. Their iced coffees are no exception, containing an unhealthy amount of condensed milk. However, they are just perfect for washing down Kkoy-Tiu, the Cambodian equivalent of Vietnamese pho. Now whenever I go to a Vietnamese restaurant, I’m reminded of Kkoy-Tius and the overwhelmingly sweet glass of iced coffee. The iced coffee that Kyung Sun unni used to make for me after EVERY meal (totally ignoring the fact that I find it hard to sleep at night when I drink coffee) with Korean coffee powder I miss too. I tried making it for myself at home but it just didn’t taste the same.

Then there’s beer. I swear, though, I only drank twice during my 3 month stay and both times within reason, just as a beverage. I remember sneaking out with SY obba, a friend who I went to Cambodia with, and walking to a nearby Cambodian restaurant one night. It was a nice place that had wide outdoor seating with bamboo chairs and a floor that was like the beach, having been filled with soft sand. Cambodian video clips played on a projector and we had an epic chat under the stars, with a jug of Angkor beer and a neverending supply of salted peanuts served by pretty Cambodian girls who all wore the same shade of lipstick. And the best part? It only cost about 5000 Riels – just over a dollar.

There are countless other things that reminds me of the country – and they come like a gunshot, sharp and sudden, but lingering. I guess that’s what you come away with after three months in one place – memories. I don’t have a lot of photographs, but I do have a bunch of memories that can be triggered by even the most trivial things.  But with every memory, there is one rule – that company is the essence of it all. I was fortunate enough to be surrounded by wonderful people during my stay, and although I don’t know when or in what way God will allow me to revisit, I know that when I do, I will come away with more cherished memories of the country and people that I have come to love.