Celebrating New Year the Cambodian Way
On the first day of Songkram my true love gave to me…
No Parade of Clowns and Naked Elephants
13.04. So where is the party? For days people have been talking of nothing but Khmer New Year. Which should be today according to our information, which isn’t much. Yet the streets we had inspected so minutely during the days before look largely unchanged. Well, the dirt-piste-wet-splashing-trucks and the steamroller seem to have been there, but no sign of party and parade. Maybe the chef in Battambang had lied when he told us the cities would be orphaned around New Year because everybody is going home to their families in the countryside. Maybe the 6000-souls-village Sem Monorom does not host the party of the century.
Or, much simpler, we simply got the day wrong. Later on we rent a motorcycle and find out that Khmer New Year does indeed start tomorrow. Apparently, the starting date changes anually because of the differing calendar. Just as well. One more day for discovering the region and meeting with a deadly scooter accident once again. Viva Cambodian “streets”!
On the second day of Songkram my true love gave to me…
Beer and Cigarettes for Breakfast
But this time. Admitted, the parade is still making us wait, but at least there are alcohol excesses in the morning now. When we get up and start into town for breakfast we are immediately ambushed by a group of Cambodian men who have gotten comfortable in a shop’s driveway. They must be boozing for hours already. Canned beer from plastic cups with ice cubes, an ancient Asian tradition. First we each get handed a can, then another, then still another. Accompanied by loads of Cambodian fags and delicious clams for a snack. They just won’t let us leave. When after can number five we try to say goodbye on the grounds that we still have to get breakfast, one of their wifes just comes carrying a pot of noodles. Which invalidates our excuse. Now we get noodles and still more beer.
When at about noon we finally succeed in breaking loose we are both rather inebriated. Stefan goes to sleep while I’m desperately trying to publish an article. When my brain explodes I return into town, dance with young Khmer in undershorts and drink more beer. Then I drive with them to a waterfall where half the village is sleeping off their buzz. Blind and drunk I jump from the cascade with the cool village youth until I notice the pain aggravated by the impact on my injuries from yesterday.
My driver says he is terribly drunk. I mount his scooter. Back in the guesthouse I go to sleep. Now Stefan is awake and tells me about the whopee by the pagoda. When I awake in the early evening we both fight our hangovers. Enough for today.
On the third day of Songkram my true love gave to me…
A Deaf Cambodian Girl Sleeping Over
Today there’s not much happening by day. The day before seems to have thinned out the hard drinking crowd. At the pagoda old women give their offerings to the monks. We calculate and realize we need to become monks: Even in a village of 6000 people there’s more than you could ever hope to eat when within three days every family offers at least one ready-made dish to the 20 monks from the local monastery. Talk about asceticism!
In the evening we warm up for the monastery party by drinking in a doorway again. At the pagoda there is hearty food, solid drinking and while children have fun at the carousels, the predominantly male village youth are dancing to Khmer pop and party techno beats from the mighty sound system. The few girls at the dancing square are shy like all young female Cambodians who are not hookers. All of them except for one, who Stefan isolates immediately of course. A little later I find them both with a beer on the side. She appears sympathetic, down to earth, natural, somehow cool. She has something in common with us: She can’t make herself understood with the people around us. She is deaf.
Like the parents of a small child we walk with her, each of us one of her hands in his, back into town. Let’s go to the next doorway party! A few more beers here, a few more with our friends from yesterday. Our new friend gets some wary looks. At some point Stefan says goodbye, hoping to get rid of her. Yet in the end she follows me, only to snuggle up to Stefan in the guesthouse. Who sends her to the shower first and gives her a toothbrush. Then we sleep the sleep of the innocent.
On the last day of Songkram my true love gave to me…
The Best City in the World
In the morning we pack up. At seven our bus to the capital is leaving. Phnom Penh is waiting. Viva the Korean luxury bus, which is almost made for European dimensions. It takes us to our destination in just eight hours. After some exhausting slum trekking we throw our baggage into a barrack of a guesthouse. On our way into the city centre we realize we have been lied to. This is where life is pulsating! The parks full of people. Stalls everywhere. The young play catch-me-if-you-can and all sorts of sporty social games while the old get drunk. Music and colorful lights everywhere. Orphaned, yeah right!
Some young Khmer invite us for some green fermented sparkling drink from big Fanta bottles. While we drink them under the table a storm is arising. First sand, then water scourges into our faces. We flee. That should be the end of Songkram. Which is just as well with us. At least we have been allowed to witness its full splendor for a few hours in the end. Good to know that other countries have just the same customs: New Year means boozing.
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