"It is the Cambodian Way!"

Let’s see, what have I been up to?  Well, I started work last week, so I’ve spent my time researching international documentary film festivals and respective film markets, in addition to dealing with what one would presume would be the simple task of setting up an office: obtaining desk, chair, internet, having carpet ripped out and replaced by tiles, air conditioning, getting rid of cables strewn across balcony so as to impede possible accidental death, business cards and long-term residence permit and business visa. 

 

The most interesting occurrence at work so far, aside from receiving 5 boxes of 100 count business cards that are a dark blue-purple and have lightning flashes across the company title and a white, spot-light like effect flashing down across my name with small print below claiming, “Proud to be Cambodian!”  (Clearly the fact that our parent company owns one night club that does happen to shine spot lights up across the city every night takes precedence over the actual work of media production), was our 2 hour staff meeting, which of course I will not go into detail, but I will compare to a kindergarten class in which our local staff learns the ABCs of documentary film making, namely, the point is it is okay to ask questions and no, they won’t have to personally pay for the equipment if for some reason the camera is taken away by the police.  I live in culture of fear my friends, and one in which questions have never been asked and blame has always been handed over to the superior.  “It is, the Cambodian Way,” as my co-workers will say to anything.  Documentary filmmaking doesn’t have time for paying bribes and “getting to know” interviewees that refuse to be interviewed, like guilty policemen.  Before my boss came in, no one bothered to ask the staff what they thought or how they felt, now they are much happier and questions are asked all the time. Things are moving, perhaps not at the western-pace yet, but it’s great to be a part of the education and transformation of what is supposed to be a “professional” environment.

 

Friday night I went to a “rave” at the old Phnom Penh railway station.  Personal opinion: it was not a rave, just bad techno-y music and the largest concentration of foreigners I have seen thus far in Cambodia.  Sadly, I went home somewhat earlier at 2 am since I do work SATURDAYS.  Yes.  Monday-Saturday.  In the private sector in Cambodia, that is the Cambodian Way.  Henceforth, I reserve all rights to complain about long workweeks. 

 

Saturday I had the most delicious mini-hamburgers, potatoes and mango crepes for dinner at my boss’s house in a closed gated-community (one of the newer developments in PP) and Sunday Tim and I ventured out on bike to Ta Phrom, temple-ruins about 40ish-some km (?)  outside the city.  It was good to be riding for a longer stretch again.  We had peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches and cokes for lunch while we rested on these flat wooden covered-structure things out on the Mekong River and Tim talked about airplanes and fish to this really old man who rowed up next to us.  You’ll probably roll your eyes at me again, when you learn that I did somehow manage to lose Tim on bike again on our way back (we took a different route).  I think I kept going straight somewhere, but after 45 minutes or so of calling each other and not being able to decipher where I was I had had enough.   Since I was tired I sort of just gave and paid a tuk-tuk to take me home. I think sometimes it’s okay to call it a day.

 

Finally, I started my Khmer lessons yesterday! 

 

Sok-Sapbaaay cie tee?  (Are you well?)  Kñom sok capbaay cia tee (I am well!)  Caah (c = ch) qaa-kunn craaen nah (thank you very much).  Min-quey tee (you’re welcome).

 

What I just typed up is how it is written in the book, but of course it is not how words are spelled.  Khmer writing is basically squiggly lines.  At least, they look like squiggles to me. In Khmer there are two sounds:  one comes from the front of the mouth or tongue, the other from the back, or the throat. I just want to make A SOUND that makes sense to my moto driver friend.  My teacher is awesome though. She’s in her mid-30s, two young children and learned English when UNTAC (United Nations Transitional Authority in Cambodia) came in the early 1990s. She used to work as a teacher but makes more money giving private lessons to foreigners.  I pay her $5 an hour plus a coffee/drink, which we consume at a café during our lesson.  She orders the cheapest drink.  At some point I would like to resume my French lessons, maybe once a week.  I’m sure I will be paying somewhere around $20 a lesson for those.