I have a new job. Yes. A third one. Somehow I’m managing my time right, though my gut tells me this can’t go on for too long. But for now things are good again. Tuesday through Thursday I spend my time at the Cambodian Human Rights Center, where I intern. You see, I’m trying to figure out what I should study in my post-graduate, and it could Human Rights. So three days I try to figure out if investigating rights violations is my calling. Actually I just research, work on several projects that have more to do with technology, and thoroughly revel in the joy of having international colleagues (as opposed to CNN when I was working from home).Then, last weekend I was invited to a Cambodian wedding for a colleague I had just met at my new internship at the CCHR. Yay! A field trip sponsored trip to the province and food is included! Yuppie! Plus, I thought… It’ll be a GREAT bonding experience with my new co-workers, or at least for some language immersion. ENGLISH language immersion, that is. You see, the thing is, my new coworkers are well, yes Cambodian, but the other ones, they’re from New Zealand, Ireland, and the U.K. This makes for very interesting English translations. As the only American, I try to shed light on what it’s like to be a Yank, learn about rugby, closed-circuit televisions in London, studying in Europe, and how to greet the Queen of England. Seriously. Then we have less serious conversations. Like the other day at lunch:
Tom from New Zealand to the Waiter:
“No, can we get the GREEN Fanta instead of the Orange Fanta?”
Nod from the waiter. The can arrives, and Stacey (from the UK), Bijan (Iranian-English) and I stare at Dave (Team New Zealand) and Tom.
“What does it taste like?” Stacey asks. We all get a sip.
“Do you know what jolly-ranchers are? That’s what it tastes like,” I say.
Well, this just opened up a whole new discussion on candy, lollies, gummies, and I now know for a fact that jolly ranchers, which I described as hard-ass fruit gummies don’t exist in the UK or New Zealand. I only had North Americans Celine Dion and Kenny G to back me up, and they were really only backing up the restaurant’s music. The words “arse”, “bloody”, “rugby”, “root-boy” and a whole series of other terms make for truly engaging lunch and work conversations, which always leave me speaking my words a bit more carefully and feeling like I've joined the Harry Potter club.
Anyways, back to the Wedding. So 8am Saturday morning we all show up, groggy, sleepy, and not ready for a day of sweating in dresses and dress shirts and pants. Turns out the scheduled 1 hour drive (really 2 hours) takes us into some unknown area of Cambodia—well, unknown to me— so that we are thick into the jungle, rumbling along those dirt-roads that make walking around Cambodian villages so magically story-like. Six Barangs (foreigners) clamber out of the bus with our fellow Cambodian colleagues, and we are paraded into a colorful tent for the wedding ceremony. We even take part in the hair-cutting/perfume spraying bit for good-luck.
After groom/bride dress changes (Cambodians usually change around 6 times during a wedding)… a meal that made me want to become a vegetarian…. And naptime or gambling time (chose your own activity according to gender) at the neighbor’s…
A musician offers Tom a try at his fiddle-thing in exchange for a Marlboro Light. Note: Tom couldn’t even get a squeak from the strings.
We also listened to some sweet band. Kidding. I have to admit, the silver dress on one of the singers was kind of cute. The boys certainly enjoyed it.
After sweating off probably close to 20 pounds, our colleagues declared enough was enough, and we climbed back into our field-trip bus, wishing the bride and the groom lots of luck before heading back to the Phnom Penh.
No comments:
Post a Comment