To the Village and Back Again... and Then to Vietnam

After our days in Siem Reap we thought we would go back to Phnom Penh for a few days while we waited for our Vietnam Visas to go through. We thought that on Valentines Day we would be spending the day riding a bus for seven hours from Phnom Penh to Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam. Instead we ended up packing our bursting backpacks and climbing into the back of a Tuk Tuk operated by a driver, and new friend, named Seng Thy- or as we somehow began calling him, Cha Lee Cho. He is one of the five Tuk Tuk drivers that operates out of Happy Guesthouse, the place we had returned to after spending five days there earlier in the week. Him and his three brothers worked in one way or another at the guesthouse. Cha Lee and his brothers were all easy to smile, and charming- as it helps to be in a tourism-based industry. These brothers, along with almost everyone else that worked at Happy, all came from a small village of about 1,500 that stood 50 km southeast of the city. Over our time in Phnom Penh, we had made friends with each one and developed a friendly and familiar repoire with them. On our last night before our expected departer, Cha Lee said he was going home to his village the next morning and that he was sorry we couldn't come with him.

Well, Charlie and I looked at each other and shrugged our shoulders- why not?
Cha Lee assured us his offer was genuine and couldn't stop smiling. We felt that this was the kind of thing it would be silly to miss out on, considering we trusted him and felt good about the prospect of leaving the city and driving out into the countryside with him for a few days. And so, on Friday we threw our bags in the motorcyle-pulled chariot and braced ourselves for the bumpy ride. An hour and a half later we pulled off the pavement and dusted our way down the dry dirt road to Cha Lee's village.
Charlie and I were a bit nervous, as we were completely out of our element and didn't really know what to expect. But as soon as we pulled up to the modest house that was lifted over ten feet off the ground, and saw the smiling faces of Cha Lee's wife and four children sitting underneath the house on (yes, on) the dinner table, we relaxed. Soon after we arrived and were ushered under the house to sit, Cha Lee's wife - Mum - went into a shed-like kitchen and began bringing out bowls of rice, of pickled mango, of the raw pork we had just bought from the market and a salad of basil and cucumbers. It looked beautiful, except for the meat that had been hanging outdoors all day before we pulled up to buy it- and we're pretty sure it was the face of a pig, bones and all. We descretely avoided the meat and behaved most entheusiastic about the meal- especially considering that the whole family wasn't eating, but standing around us in a semi circle smiling. More relatives, neighbors and friends began showing up to meet us and watch us eat. As did the director of the local school, because Charlie and I had decided to buy all 400 students a book for learning English. Cha Lee had first mentioned this idea on the eve of our departer to the countryside. We had investegated at the main markets in Phnom Penh about prices, and the book most recomended for the task, and Cha Lee had his wife did some investegating at the local market by their village. In the end it would cost only $200 total to buy the entire school books. Charlie reasoned that it was a small price to pay for us but it may actually be a chance to do some good in the lives of these children. And of course, I agreed.

The next morning, Feb 14th, we spent our Valentines day at a rural Asian market searching out these specific books that were rumored to be there. Cha Lee and Mum helped us with negotiations and we efficiently purchased our humble gift. But, before we could go to the school and present them to the Director, the ingredients for our next few meals had to be bought. So Mum softly, but firmly, held on to my elbow as she towed me through the crowded market of women. While Cha Lee and Charlie browsed other school supplies, I was led through a sea of vegetables, live eels, fish, other animals, as well as many things I did not recognize. As we walked down the aisles between women parked on their blankets piled high with their products, all eyes were on me. I saw as everyone in front of us stopped what they were doing to look, some smiled and some didn't. But Mum seemed to know everyone and smiled her way through the crowd picking out vegetables, sauces and such. The deal of the trip was that Charlie and I would pay for our food, as Cha Lee's family (and the whole village) is very poor. So I gave Mum a ten dollar bill that paid for a weekend of feasting for the whole family. As she toted me toward the exit, past the whole (I mean totally whole- head, eyes, feet and all) skinned chickens, I thought that we might have escaped buying meat. It was a relief. Mum collected Charlie and Cha Lee, the books we had purchased and the food we had bought into the Tuk Tuk before placing her hand under my elbow once again to steer me across the street, much to my dismay, to a meat stand. Legs, hinds, and organs of a freshly slaughtered pig hung from hooks. Chopped bits of unidenifiable animal parts lay on a platter in front of a cross-legged woman holding a bloody butcher knife. With flies buzzing around us, Mum chose a chunk of meat and an organ to take with us. Seeing that I am not much of a meat lover, and eat mostly vegetarian, I was trying hard to keep a polite face.

The heat was intense and the smell of raw meat wasn't any less to bear, so I was happy when we all hopped in the Tuk Tuk and headed to the school.

As soon as we arrived the director and one, of the two, teachers for the school came up and thanked us again and again. Charlie nor I speak any Khmer, and these men didn't speak a lick of English, so our mutual feelings of gratitude were expressed largely through body language. It is rare to have the chance to give something directly to the place of need. Charlie and I had been talking about finding a volunteer oppurtunity for weeks, as Cambodia is the most in need of all the countries we are to visit. This was an oppurtunity for us to give a simple gift to happy, smiling children that we could actually meet. As Cha Lee eloquently put it when he suggested the donation: "You could buy yourselves some souvenier's, which is perfectly okay, or you could spend some money on the children, and that would be good for them and for Cambodia."

We spent most of the morning playing games with these beautiful children. Each one wanted their own picture taken and the camera caused a frenzy of about 100 little kids pushing each other frantically to get to the front of the crowd. They all wanted to be in the very front waving their peace signs wildly with smiles on their faces. And they had no idea who we were, or why we were there.

It was the most loved I have ever felt on Valentines Day.

Charlie and I were such a team that weekend. Through hairy meat and much attention we stuck together in our will to be openly polite, kind and friendly. We were able to give a few small gift's to our generous hosts without allowing ourselves to be taken advantage of (which is possible in a country that needs so much, and has so little). We re-affirmed our ability to do the right thing when presented with the oppurtunity and to gracefully get ourselves in, and out, of another eye-opening experience.

We have now been in Ho Chi Minh City for three days and already spent a long, alchohol-filled night with a group of Chinese guys who didn't speak more than two words of English, spent an entire day hung over in our hotel room (thank goodness for air-conditioning), gone to various fine art museums and galleries, and explored the modern and booming streets of this city. It is beautiful, international and full of colorful people that co-exist in a wonderful way. So far, we both very much love Vietnam.

Till next time...

Oriana and Charlie