2 posts tagged “cambodia”
I have finally gotten my hands on my father's pictures, and now I'm yearning to visit home. I passed up this recent trip, but now? Tropical climes and ancient ruins seem just the thing. I was discussing the possibility with my mom. She seemed burned out at the idea of all three weeks spent in Cambodia, but perked up at the suggestion of two weeks in Thailand and one in Cambodia. The idea sounds better and better to me as the day goes on. I've been dying to go to this resort. Okay, so it may be pricey, but that's what saving up for a good trip is about, yeah?
Look how pretty:
So that's the decadence, but check out the pretty pictures of home:
I love the picture of the clustered tourists at dawn. I didn't remember half that many ten years ago. Oh, how tourism has changed. My mom grew up near there, and is pretty amused. But usually, I just hear her complain about how loud all the people are, and how often my aunt has to sweep her front porch now.
Now. I just have to mentally prepare myself for the heatstroke and the lack of indoor plumbing. Lord save us. I may persuade her to scale it up in Thailand, but no way are we going anywhere but to grandma's house if we're in Siem Reap. Or maybe... Ah, gentle friends, the plotting must begin now.
I had one of these conversations this morning, which I was reminded of while killing time on VOX looking for pictures of Cambodia. It's the most irrelevant relevant thing I can do since I should be reading papers, and they happen to be on Cambodia. Anyhow, it went something like this:
"So you remember that guy?" my mother asks me.
I stare up. I save myself from rolling my eyes. "What guy?"
"You know, the guy. The guy with the house on the river where you fell asleep beneath the mango tree."
"Mango tree? When we were in Phnom Penh?"
"Of course," she says, as though I should have connected three lines ago. I recall this house, and it had a bidet and gold faucets, which was so awesomely gaudy that it made me wish I had a camera.
"He had a comfortable chair too. Teak, right?"
"I think so. You should have let the elders sit in it. You should have sat on the floor."
"But they made me! They're old Asian people! They direct, you fall in line! Like you don't know this," I point out.
"Why are you always talking back to me?"
"Mother. Were you going to tell me something about this man?"
"Yes. He's dead. He died yesterday. Your uncle just called."
"News travels fast. How sad."
"Of course it travels fast. It's his business partner's father."
"No he wasn't. That was a different man on the boat," I say.
"What boat?" she asks.
"You remember me falling asleep under his mango tree, but you don't remember the boat that took us down the river?"
"There have been many boats. But he was the business partner's father."
"Totally not. He was the other guy at the ceremony. He had hair. The home owner had none."
"Ah. But he was on the boat?" she asks, as though there is any point served in my lying to her.
"Yes. And I'm sure he laughed at me when I fell in the water."
"You fell in the water?"
"Seriously? Seriously?" I ask. "My foot went between the two planks, I slipped and fell into the Mekong."
Recognition dawns and she starts to giggle. "That's right! Ah, that was a good trip."
Conversations between me and my mother often take unexpected paths and have uneven tones. Especially since we're both switching back and forth between two languages...unable to differentiate between English and Khmer. So I think I was supposed to achieve sadness there, due to the death of man I met once at a housewarming ceremony in the summer of 2000...No wait, twice. He was at the temple too, where I met the monk with the mobile phone. Anyhow, sadness not quite achieved. Instead, levity. Levity at falling into a skanky river, no matter how awesome it is. Levity at the scattered memories of the last family vacation I ever took. It was that traumatic. You try traveling with your parents for three and a half weeks then talk to me about family vacations!
Having complained about that, I think I might want to go back again some time in the next five years. I had guess five to 10 back in 2000, so that sounds about right.
