Not in Kansas Anymore (Cambodia Adventuers Part I)

It’s four am, somewhere between Wednesday and Thursday. I throw a pile of clothes into my backpack and run out the door. Steph’s tour of S.E. Asia begins. First stop: Cambodia.

To get into most countries, you need a visa. In the Kingdom of Cambodia, twenty-five dollars will get you through the door.

My friend Geoff picked me up at the airport with his driver, Mr. T. Geoff and I went to GW together—in fact, we almost got married once, but that’s another story. Now Geoff is a free-lance journalist based in Cambodia. I was very lucky to be able to visit a friend who knows and understands the country and its history so well.

Mr. T drives a tuk-tuk. A tuk-tuk (see photo) is a cart attached to a moped. Kind of like a motorized chariot (or rather, a horse and buggy without the horse!). Mr. T took us back to Geoff’s place, which is just as nice as my apartment in Singapore, but he’s paying $150/month, whereas I’m paying four times as much. It takes three stories of spiral staircases to get to his apartment, which in itself is two floors (one of which he shares with his roommate, a travel writer for National Geographic)—a bitch to climb, but well worth it when you see the view from his roof (see photo).

Now let me take this opportunity to talk about currency in Cambodia. American money is as good as gold here. In fact, it is the preferred method of exchange. Cambodian money is the Riel, but if you go to a money-changer or an ATM, you can only get the American dollar. This blows my mind, because there are so few Americans in Cambodia, but I guess the dollar is so strong and the Riel is so weak in Asia. And what’s even more confusing is, you can mix the Riel and the Dollar. Often times you’ll pay with American and get your change in Riels, or you can pay in both, but Riels won’t get you very far. 2000 Riels = $0.50 and the highest Riel bill I saw was 10,000. This is what some academics might call postmodernism—cultures colliding into one. Consider this: a French guy comes to Cambodia, has to change his francs to American dollars in order to spend money, getting change in Cambodian Riels, in the country that the French originally colonized. Actually, throw on top of that, the French now use Euros, which is universally European money that he must exchange for American dollars while in S.E Aisa… etc. etc. We truly live in a global society. It was weird enough for me to bring Sing money to Cambodia only to see American money for the first time since leaving home.

After dropping my stuff off at Geoff’s apartment, Mr. T drove us to Geoff’s favorite place for breakfast, where we ate Pho—beef noodle soup—a traditional Cambodian dish. I got so excited when I saw that beer was only $1.00, that I ordered a local beer, Angkor, forgetting that it was only 10am. (I had been up since 4am, it felt like at least mid afternoon!)

Skipping ahead to lunch—we went to a traditional Cambodian place, but traditional as in royal family traditional, where you sit on silk pillows on the floor to eat. There I drank coconut juice out of a giant coconut. (See photo.)

Now, Cambodia is essentially the exact opposite of Singapore—it was the perfect contrast: a much less developed place, where almost no rules apply. The rules of the road are essentially non-existent. You really feel this while riding on the back of a moped—which, in the absence of Mr. T, that’s the most accessible mode of transportation. Moped drivers are on every street corner just waiting to take you somewhere for a couple of thousand Riels. And it’s quite exhilarating—terrifying, but exhilarating. Isn’t fearing for your life at high speeds what exhilaration is all about? Especially when the wind is blowing in your hair. But I’ll tell you, with traffic going in all directions, and lanes being an anomaly—my mom would have a heart attack on one of these things. I can just imagine her shrieking as the driver goes full speed into head on traffic.

Our night on the town took us to some of Geoff’s favorite places---a Mexican restaurant (which is where the post-modern conversation began); the FCC (the foreign correspondent’s club, where all the expat journalists hang out); a bar which overlooked water… and then Geoff showed me the seedier side of town, which I was interested in seeing. (When in Rome, right?) He took me to a couple of “Gentleman’s Clubs,” which are rampant in Cambodia and elsewhere around S.E. Asia. The first one consisted of mostly Cambodian women, the second, Filipino. (See photo.) We noted an advertisement in one of the clubs that asked for donations “to save Cambodian children”—this was a philanthropic brothel. The girls were very confused as to my presence in this place. I stuck to my story that I had a twenty-six year old boyfriend in Singapore—it seemed only logical. It was interesting to talk to these women, most of whom admitted to not being quite happy with their employment. At the second “Gentleman’s club” we played pool with two Filipinos, and it was actually quite fun---but maybe it was just the alcohol kicking in. Next we went to a Karaoke bar, Carol King, where we drank Tiger Beers on the house and ate watermelon and sang and sang and sang til our hearts content. The owner was so thrilled to have Geoff there. He said, “Mr. Geoffrey, you are my friend, I did okay tonight. You don’t have to pay, because you are my friend. You come back again.” (See photos of Mr. Geoffrey/ Mr. owner’s duet).

U-Zi? Not for U-Zi (Cambodia Part II)

My first day in Cambodia, I saw the Phnom Penh side of Cambodia. Phnom Penh is the capital, and much more developed. The second day, I ventured out beyond the city to see the countryside, and to get a feel for a different side of Cambodian life. This was a very enlightening day. I hired Mr. T (see photo) to drive me around for the day, while Geoffrey worked in Phnom Penh.

Once outside the city, roads are no longer paved, and cattle roam freely down the street, eating along side locals shopping in the market place (see photo).

Our first stop was a shooting range. Here you pay a small amount of American money, and you can shoot an AK47 or U-Zi or whatnot. When it came time for me to pick my weapon of choice, I chose the U-Zi (the Russians rank among the most badass in my mind…) but the guy basically said “no, not for you” and gave me more of a beginner gun to try out.
Now, I have never shot a gun before, nor do I care to shoot a gun again, but I wanted to get a better understanding of what it feels like to shoot one. I wondered if this experience would be something like people who try drugs once for the experience and then slowly find themselves addicted. Would I feel a rush of adrenaline or a sense of power that might become dangerously gratifying? Taking the first shot was shocking—when you feel the pop for the first time—like that sensation of opening a brand new can of tennis balls, but times affinity. It throws you back a little. But I must say, I got absolutely no pleasure out of shooting this gun. None whatsoever. In fact, after the first few shots, I thought to myself, “ok, I’m done with this,” but I had paid for 30 bullets and had 27 left to go! And it just got tedious. Plus, I couldn’t tell if I was hitting the targets or not. Well there we have it, something different under my belt.

The Killing Fields (Cambodia Part III)

Next, in all its poignancy, we went to the Killing Fields. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Killing_Fields The Killing Fields are what Geoff described as, “the Holocaust Museum of Cambodia.” Essentially, this was the site of mass genocide in Cambodia in the late 80’s. It’s a memorial site, which, was set up simply and got straight to the point. One of the most impressionable images that will forever be imprinted in my mind, was the temple, which inside had a tower of skulls from the victims stacked one on top of the other. (See photo.)
After soaking this in, I walked around the fields, where there’s a barbed wire fence separating the visitors from the marshes. At one spot, there’s a little girl who emerges on the other side, with her hands clinging to the fence. She sees you coming and she bats her eyes and smiles and says, “What’s your name? Where you from? I’m so and so. Wanna take a picture of me? Come take a picture.”
I took a picture. I admit, it was hard to resist. This girl looked like she was straight out of a “Save the Children” commercial (see photo). She then reached out her hand and said, “let me see!” I thought, no way, I want to keep my camera beyond today. I showed her from a distance. “Pay me” she says. “You took my picture, now pay me.” I reluctantly gave her 500 riel and she quickly went from being cute to hostile. You should have seen her eyes—the anger—and yet, I snapped two more photos. I am slightly disgusted with myself. It’s like a human life has suddenly become a commodity. It seems that rich Westerners like myself travel to countries like Cambodia and we see poverty, and we take pictures and we feel like we’ve experienced something—we’ve seen poverty first hand—and we take pictures to show others what we’ve seen. I realized, after traveling to the Garbage Dump (more on this later), that I went into that community and shut off all emotion. I drove through there and walked around with the mindset of a journalist in a human interest story. I was taking in all my surroundings—I was observing and making mental notes and asking myself questions (to ask Geoff later) but I wasn’t feeling—at least I wasn’t feeling as much as I should have been for seeing something so tragic. I was an uninvited stranger in someone’s neighborhood—gawking at a world that I couldn’t even pretend to know or understand. I told myself not to take any pictures out of respect for human dignity, but I found myself reaching for my camera anyway. I had never seen anything quite like this place!

A drive through the countryside (Cambodia Part IV)

A Visit to the Garbage Dump (Part V of Cambodia series)

The Garbage Dump is a poor community on the outskirts of Phnom Penh. It consists of migrants who move from the countryside for work, but couldn’t find work in the city, or women who became pregnant and were shunned from working. For lack of options, these migrants were forced into the Garbage Dump to live. During the day, you see mostly women and children there because the men are often the ones driving the mopeds around Phnom Penh. The reason I wanted to see this community, is because Geoffrey spent a summer there doing research for a story he is working on. (I can’t divulge any more information because it hasn’t been released yet.) I had heard so much about his time in Cambodia, that I wanted to get a better understanding of what he was dealing with in his research, and whatnot.

Once back in town, I got a $7 full body massage and relaxed some. That night I had the opportunity to meet people from all over South East Asia, because they were all gathering for a conference (a technology/blogger/everything conference) that was taking place the next day. Geoffrey was running the Media Relations for this conference. It was a neat forum to meet people from all over the world and have an open forum for discussion. I spoke on the topic of seduction, and talked a little bit about my research on the matter. Actually, my topic was so popular, it made it into the Phnom Penh Post, go fig! http://www.phnompenhpost.com/index.php/2008092221780/National-news/-Cloggers-find-new-way-to-exchange-ideas-on-technology.html

Friday night we went to a local nightclub, called Spark. What fascinated me the most about this nightclub was not how hopping it was, how there was a live band that had the most un-energetic dancers on the stage, nor how sheik it was, but the fact that there was a giant projection television screen playing Tom and Jerry cartoons in the middle of this happening nightclub!

Both Friday and Saturday night, I experienced Cambodian BBQ dining. Much like a Mongolian BBQ, you cook meets and vegetables at your table and mix it all together. I also ate Ant. So add that to my list of “exotic” foods I’ve eaten: whale, crocodile, ant. The ants were crunchy. I felt like I was on an episode of Fear Factor.

I left early the next morning for the airport. After a $1.50 breakfast of tea and Pho, Mr. T and I set off for one last Tuk-tuk journey to the airport. $25 dollars later, and I’m back in Singapore. (Yes, you have to pay to get out of the country.)

Where will my next Asian adventure take me? Who knows, maybe Malaysia, Thailand, Laos? Stay tuned for more!

On the street where I live...

Here are some more pictures to get a feel of the neighborhood I live in.

My New Abode

Let me tell you a little bit about my new home: I live on the corner of Jilan Besar and Rowell Road, in the heart of Little India. This area has character: 24 hour food places, sampling some of the best Indian, Chinese, and Malay food in Singapore! I live in a newly renovated 5 room HDB flat, on the 23rd floor. HDB is government housing and where the majority of Singaporeans live. We have a gorgeous panoramic view of the Singapore skyline, best seen through our large windows, which overlook the Pacific Ocean and Indonesia in the distance. This is one of the few places that you truly feel like you’re living in the heart of a metropolis. My favorite is going to sleep to the lights of the Singapore Flyer (the giant Ferris wheel; the lights changes color every night) and waking up to the various boats pulling into the pier. I went crazy on a shopping spree where my roommates and I got lost in the vortex which is known as Ikea. I decided to really use the space in my room to create a fun and welcoming atmosphere: an explosion of colors! Attached are pictures of my beautiful apartment, my spacious bedroom, and the gorgeous view from my room. Enjoy!

"I want to learn about your body, Baby"

Sorry I've been MIA for some time. I've been making my film debut. That's right, the once writer-director has turned actor. And we're talking the big screen, baby. Anyone remember the 17 year old Stephanie Gardner who wrote an innocent little song while she was sitting bored out of her mind in Anatomy Class? Well we've stepped it up a notch.

I made a good choice in living with two film production students. And I got lucky; they're great. We have a perfect balance of personalities in the room, and a healthy exchange of ideas. I have now acted in two films: one comedy, one drama. One for my roommate Wai's directing exercise, the other for Susan's. The assignment was to show a moment of decision.

Wai's project was fun for me because it was a little bit like making a childhood dream come true: actor-singer-ingenue. Haha, and it was fun, a lot of fun. It was a good first film acting experience because I had the freedom of mobility, it was more like the stage acting I'm used to. My second assignment, playing the best friend of a coke addict and having to make the decision of whether to stay or leave her with her newest lover-supplier, was a much more challenging piece. There was much less movement involved and more simple, concentrated emotions. The biggest challenge is knowing that there's a camera in your face and getting past that to actually being in the moment of the scene. In a sense, the camera made me feel like I was acting and it made it harder for me to find a genuine reaction to the scene. But it was a great experience and I am looking forward to more opportunities to learn and hopefully improve as an actress on (and off) the screen.

Li-Lin's House

As my homelessness reached a point edging towards scary, I was very fortunate to be taken in by a classmate and now friend, Lilin. Lilin is a native Singaporean, a film maker who is married to a visual artist. Lilin's house is amazing. It even blows the Marriott out of the water! Lilin's entire family lives together, this is common in Singapore. Their house is split into two units, with a lovely outdoor garden-patio dividing the two. The one unit, the smaller of the two, is where Lilin and her husband Charles live (they have a master bedroom with an attached bathroom and walk-in closet) and her sister also lives in this unit, in an additional, probably identical, master bedroom setup. There is a living room and an additional bathroom, kitchenette, and office in this unit. Now let's take a walk outside. There's a huge swimming pool, an outdoor bar area, an outdoor eating area, and lots of shrubbery. The larger of the two units, the main part of the house is where Lilin's parents and brother live. There are several gorgeous rooms filled with couches and glass dining room table and artwork hanging on the walls. The master bedroom, the kitchen, etc etc. Two Filipino women live with the family and work for the family, primarily maintaining the house and cooking. They cook breakfast when you wake up, dinner when you're hungry, etc. etc. Lots and lots of food! (I'm actually thinking about writing a play about Filipino domestic workers, because I also read an interesting essay on this topic in a class last year, but I'd certainly have to do a lot more research on the topic.) My stay with Lilin has been extremely nice, relaxing, and comfortable. It showed me a different side of Singapore life.

Now I Know what a Nomad is

Thanks to a very generous patron (no, not the two french guys), I was lucky enough to spend two nights at the Marriott Hotel in Singapore's main shopping district (Orchard Road). Not only did I get two nights with a King Sized Bed and HBO, but I had access to the hotel's Executive Lounge, where they have a free happy hour every night and spreads of food for breakfast, dinner, desserts, and coffee, tea, juices and sodas all day long. It was heavenly. I basically didn't leave the executive lounge for two days straight, cause I had everything I needed there, including free wireless Internet access. And it's fascinating the people you encounter in this lounge! Almost everyone up there was a middle-aged American man (with your occasional Brit and Aussie thrown in the mix), staying there on extended business; their families left at home, and they have no one to talk to...until they spot a dazzling young woman in their midst. A twenty-two year old woman writer really sticks out in that room. A starving artist in a 5 Star Hotel, hah. But you'd be amazed at how many people struck up conversations with me! I'm thinking about writing a play about this place--from inside the Executive Lounge--the conversations I heard were dramatic, the people I talked to were fascinating--contractors, pilots, etc. And you'd be surprised at how many people live at the Marriott! The one guy is staying there through December! His company is putting him up. I ate and ate and ate. I was not ashamed. I brought my classmates. We really took advantage of this place, but it was incredible for my mental/emotional health! So thank you generous patron and thank you Marriott.

But alas, all good tales must come to an end, and come 3pm on Monday afternoon, I was officially homeless. I went from living in the lap of luxury to being genuinely worried about my living situation. I have been ditched by potential roommates, screwed over by Realtors, denied apartments because of my gender, and my temporary housing has run up.

Then, on Sunday night, I saw the perfect apartment. It was in a neighborhood that has character. Probably too much character for some, but for me, it was just the kind of character I was looking for. It's in the midst of Little India, so you can be assured the food will be very cheap and very good. Despite the seemingly seedier exterior of the building, the interior of this apartment is simply spectacular. Spacious, new, and the view, oh the view. The view of the skyline, and the Singapore Flyer (London Eye Knockoff...i.e. giant Ferris wheel) was simply breathtaking: it's a writer's paradise. And the room that was available in this apartment, had shelf space-lots of shelf space--i could really see myself making this room my own. Well, I had to go through a pseudo audition process with the current tenants. Understandably, they wanted to make sure that the person they let live with them was someone they could trust and get along with. I was the first of three to see the apartment and meet with them. So it was a little nerve wracking on my part, having to play the waiting game, knowing what I could have, but also knowing that I was homeless come 3pm Monday. They said they'd let me know by Wed. (You know, "don't call us...we'll call you..." I never was one who mastered the art of auditions.)

Come Monday, I was soo sad to say goodbye to the Marriott. I didn't have the heart to tell the gentlemen in the Executive Lounge that they would not be seeing me at Happy Hour that evening. Instead, I stocked up on donuts and Pepsi's, to take on the road with me. I repacked my suitcases. (It had been time for a reorganization of my stuff: I decided I needed to pack a duffel bag, with the bare minimum of what I would need to survive for the next week, because I knew I'd be moving around a lot, while I'm still looking for a permanent place to reside.) Interestingly, the man who does the room cleaning helped me pack my suitcases. (I didn't ask him, in fact I insisted that he didn't help, but he seemed really happy helping me to do this. He literally folded my clothes and put them in the suitcases for me). Anywho, moving on.

Jump to 9pm on Monday night. I am carrying with me my duffel bag, my backpack (with my tennis racket sticking out... everyone keeps asking me if I just came from a tennis match... no, this is my life I'm carrying with me, I explain.) and the large silver hand bag that Colleen Daigel gave me for my graduation. This is everything I'm living off of until I find a home. (I left my 2 suitcases at the Marriott, in storage until further notice.) I had just left campus after a 4.5 hour screening of Kenneth Branaugh's Hamlet. One of my classmates gave me a ride to a taxi cab. I hopped in the cab and said, "Take me to a hotel in Chinatown." (I chose Chinatown, cause I had researched budget hotels that were in reasonable distance to campus, and I knew Chinatown had these.) He took me to Hotel 81. A "budget" hotel chain in Singapore. This place was over my budget and under my expectations. But I had no choice. I took a room there for the night. (I had already arranged to stay with another classmate the next night, as in tonight, so I knew one night in this place couldn't be too bad.) It was not nice, it was not fun, but it was a place to sleep. I locked my door, I turned on the TV, and I went to sleep. This morning I got a call from the girls with the perfect apartment, and they said they would be happy to have me as their roommate! What a relief! Not only do I have a place to live, but I have a place that I will love and that I will be able to live in, and a room to make my own, and a view to inspire me, a place to sit and write and be inspired.

Tonight I will stay with my classmate who is native to Singapore. And tomorrow night, if all goes well, I will move in to this new apartment!