"Hey, why use your phone so much? Better save your battery!"
We are on the road for about seven hours when Daria tells me there's no electricity in her hometown. Cambodia's always full of surprises. I agreed to make this trip because her mother needs a loan. My white face should help seal the deal. We left Sihanoukville early in the morning. The five hour bus ride up on Highway 4 to Phnom Penh was reasonably comfortable. I edited some pictures on my iPhone, played a few levels of
Angry Birds and listened to the latest
Huff & Stapes podcast. In Phnom Penh we get on a small (but packed) bus heading to some small villages in Kampong Cham province. No aircon, no leg space, bad road and terrible heat all the way. I try to find some relief by listening to the
Pokercast when Daria gives me the lowdown about her hometown…
It's late afternoon when we get off the bus in a tiny village in the middle of nowhere.
"Alright, so this is your hometown!"
"No, now we take
moto "
After another hour on a dusty trail through tropical forests and plantations we arrive at a few wooden shacks.
"This my hometown!"
"…Town?…Where?"
By now it's dusk. I ask for the toilet. Daria just laughs. Great... Can't charge my phone and have to shit in the fields... After dark I forget this lack of comfort for a little while. In awe I stare at the million stars in the sky and enjoy being shown around the village (by torch). Everyone's friendly. I speak just enough Khmer to score some laughs. Everyone's happy. By nine all is dark and quiet. I sleep on a wooden platform under a thatched roof right next to Daria... and her mother... and two random children. Mosquitos feast on my blood. The heat makes it hard to sleep. It's the middle of the night but here, in the countryside, there's no breeze. Only the sound of insects and the insane nightly heat…
Next morning, it's a quarter to six when I wake up. The whole village's already buzzing with activity. I'm thirsty and hungry but there isn't that much food and water around. I decide to ignore my needs. The family and I go for a quick walk around the village before the heat gets unbearable. My back and legs hurt tremendously from spending a night on a wooden platform. Alas, after eight it's the only place that offers any shadow. I sit in pain. People from the village are working in the fields and on the plantations. I find it even hard to breath. I'm not moving but soaked in sweat. They cut rice all day, everyday...
It's a long, long wait before the bank manager shows up. He's expected around 8 but it's 11 (three painful hours on the platform) before he arrives. It takes another two hours before the deal is done…
No one told me but now I finally realize that I'm not really here to smoothen the deal. I'm here because of some vague hope that I will hand out (at least some of) the $1000 loan. These people are out of luck. Sure, this family needs a toilet and a water-proof roof but it's not my problem. Life's hard out here. They work all day for less than what I pay for a cheese sandwich. Well, that's how it goes. Third-world country, right? I take note of their misery but I don't feel addressed. I'm not here to save the world. You get born in rural Cambodia, you're fucked. That's the way things are. You'll get you my sympathy but I prefer to keep my money. Thank you and good luck to you.
In the afternoon Daria and I leave on a
moto-taxi for Kampong Cham city. If someone had begged me for cash at least I could be angry. Unfortunately, no one asked me for anything. I'm dizzy, thirsty and confused. It takes two hours of dust-eating and getting burned and bruised on the back of a
moto before we're back on paved roads. Kampong Cham is a small, sleepy backwater. The majestic Mekong-river is awesome though. So is the hotel room shower and many bottles of cold water. I'm dead tired and sound asleep before eight.
The next day we travel back to the coast. It's not a happy trip. Daria's feeling sick. I'm on a doom-and-gloom poverty-hangover. The bus out of Kampong Cham has a breakdown. When we arrive in Phnom Penh all I see (in jealous angriness) are young backpackers passing by. They have fancy backpacks, speckless t-shirts and freshly-washed hair. Effortlessly they slide a laptop out of their pack while they wait for a bus. They are spotless and clean; smiling perfect toothpaste-smiles. I wear dust covered clothes. I'm sticky and sweaty and hungry and tired. Daria has a fever. I'm annoyed with the poor, proud farmers in Kampong Chang province. Why didn't they just try to scam me? Being poor and kind-hearted is the ultimate recipe for misery. The good, poor people are doomed. The trendy backpackers are the upperclass of tomorrow. It's a fucked-up world. There's no middle-ground. A few have it all, most have absolutely nothing. ... Maybe it's just too damn hot in Phnom Penh this time of the year... I scratch countless mosquito bites while getting lost in dark thoughts until we board the bus to Sihanoukville. It's almost dark when we get there. There's a gentle sea breeze. I crave a cold beer and a pizza.
Back in my little hedonistic bubble...
