Same Same But Different in Cambodia and Vietnam ~ December 25, 2011 - January 12, 2012

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An awe-inspiring holiday gift opened up for me with the spicy warm dusty tropical sights, people, and deep history of Cambodia and Vietnam, which I enjoyed for three weeks in late December and early January. I spent most of the trip with Katie, who I have to thank for motivating and organizing so much of the trip so smoothly. 2012 kicked off for me auspiciously indeed in Siem Reap, Cambodia, in the festive local market by the river, surrounded by happily laughing local families celebrating the excuse to take a break from the daily work of what is in general a very hard life there in order to crink necks up to fireworks, cheers and aaahhhh!!!!!s with every sprinkle of sparkle. This was a joyfully savored fireworks festivity with a humorous and beautiful difference: there were only about 10 fireworks in total the whole night (!!) spread over about 2 hours (!!), but the crowd’s positive energy and excitement quadrupled anything the Charles has seen on the 4th. I was the only white person in the place, and no one around me was speaking English, but grins are universal and were constant all around that night, glowing upward and delighted eyes made all our faces bright. Our lovely Cambodian travel agent explained to me that in Cambodia people can choose any time during the first week of January to “welcome the new year” with feasts and prayers and family gatherings; celebration isn’t just for New Year’s Eve but it also never reaches overboard into crazyland. I’ve heard that the way you ring in the new year is an omen for the year to come; if so I’m going to have 12 wonderful months of soul-widening new experience with simple joyful shared human connections, new friends around the world and the love of home close in my back pocket. Our journeys in Cambodia and Vietnam launched this flow… Here are some other most memorable ingredients:

A hundred varieties of little sweet rice and coconut and peanut and bun and veggie and noodle treats for sale by women vending from chrome street carts… we tried (nearly) everything! mmmmmmmmmmMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Bike culture: bicycles and motorbikes that should never hold just one person. We saw families of four riding a single motorbike and bicycles that threw silouhettes larger than SUVs with two enormous basket saddlebags towering with good. We rode bicycle taxis where we clung to one another for dear life crossing triple lanes of traffic. And we reclined in our favorite vehicle, the incomparable tuk tuk. To refresh your memory, a tuk tuk is a carriage with canopy top and scroll sides, usually metal shiny bright red black or greem, carted by a motorbike, always driven by a persistently friendly and street-savy young man who smiles you on your way, appreciates your dollar fares, and likely sleeps in his vehicle at night. We had several loyal tuk tuk drivers.

Boats, airy and open with huge eyes painted on the front in blue red white black for safe passage home, for every purpose and moment of life in Vietnam – house, school, church, fishing, market – and many times a day as our taxis from one sight to the next.

Three piece polyester pantsuits for the ladies in Vietnam, in bright 70s patterns, tailor made for the lean bodies that wore them with unconscious style. Next time I’m having one made.

Kids waving, from passing boats, from the side of the road, from motorbikes zipping by, everywhere we went with huge smiles and confident English “HI!!!!”

‘Hammock restaurants’, the colonies of floating hammocks under thatched roofs lining the rice patties and fishing rivers, dusty roads and bare feet and corrugated iron shacks and packed bikes and peaceful modest folks going about their lives with a rest for food and a cool swing in a hammock on the weekends.

Mango, pineapple, dragonfruit, passionfruit for breakfast on a shaded verandah in a city corner clouded in morning hazy coral dust, with orange monks stepping down the street under parasols and cycles rolling past, enjoying the cool before the heat of the day.

Temples with stories written in stone – stories of daily lives including children and workers and midwives and scolars and pets and soldiers, and of beloved kings who were patrons of the people and seemed to live a compassionate religious philosophy. Temples with a thousand faces, a thousand dancers that all look same same same same at first glance, but on closer inspection are each unique in detail.

Local tourguides who charmed our hearts with their passion for history and learning and representing their culture with pride to the visitors they shared with and learned from. Many were former teachers and they seemed to be a kind of elite in their societies, well educated and well paid. All shared with dignified honesty and humor some stories of their personal lives, opinions on politics and observations of culture, policy, religion, society. We found kindred spirits there.

Small production – tiny factories making soy sauce and peanut candy and rice paper, ladies making sugar palm candy by the side of the road, girls selling pineapple on sticks, old ladies in the market selling fruit and fish and undies, tuk tuk guys calling for fares, sidewalk cafes, kids hawking bracelets and books – everyone had something to exchange on the local market, not just to tourists but to locals in the absence of any large scale business.

Markets: at the center of town, low dark roofs, elbow to elbow ladies selling noodles and buns, sweet and savory treats delivered in miniature plastic bags with a side of coconut milk and chopped peanuts and sweet sauce, meticulous pyramids of vegetables and fruit, whole chickens and live fish, every single part of a pig or cow, bras, t-shirts, 100 varieties of flip flops, on and on and on.

Same same, but different! Our favorite tourguide explained that, at first all people look the same, same, same, same, but look closer and we’re all different. In the market every mango looks the same, same, same, but look closely and you’ll find the one that’s different and best for you. This concept resonated with me, because I saw so much repetition – so many tuk tuks, so many ladies in a row by the dusty road selling the same candies, so many temples and boats and bicycles… but each had its own unique personality.

Angry Birds. Every person under three feet tall seemed to be wearing an Angry Birds t-shirt. I started a photoalbum.

Thank you Cambodia and Vietnam for your warm welcome! I can’t wait to go back.