Today was the first sort of free day I’ve had here in Siem Reap, and at the behest of my colleagues I took a tour of the local temples, including Angkor Wat, shepherded along by an English-speaking Cambodia tour guide. He was soft-spoken, and Cambodians seem often to drop terminal hard consonants, so “nice” becomes “nie”, “lake” becomes “lae”, etc.
“Is this your first time in Cambodia? Where are you from?”
“Yes, it’s my first time here. I’m from California. Where are you from?”
“I’m from Phnom Penh. I’ve lived in Siem Reap for 4 years.”
“I’m from Phnom Penh. I’ve lived in Siem Reap for 4 years.”
“Oh, really!” His English is pretty good, and he seems pretty well-educated. “Did you go to university?”
“Yes, I studied economics and my country’s history, and graduated in 1999. I worked for an NGO for two years, and then I studied tourism and became a guide. I wanted to meet people from other countries. What do you do for a living? Are you a student, or do you work?”
“I work.”
“What do you do?”
“Um, I’m a medical doctor.”
“I see. How old are you? What year were you born?”
“I’m 32, I was born in 1973.”
“So was I!”
“So was I!”
“No kidding!” We’re the same age.
“Do you have a family?”
“No, I don’t. I have brothers and sisters.”
“Ah. Do you have a girlfriend?”
“No, I don’t.”
“You have an education, and a good job, you help people.”
I don’t have the heart to explain to him that I’m a total loser. “Uh, thanks. It’s because I’m not good looking.” We laugh. “What about you? Do you have a family?”
I don’t have the heart to explain to him that I’m a total loser. “Uh, thanks. It’s because I’m not good looking.” We laugh. “What about you? Do you have a family?”
“No. I have brothers and sisters, no girlfriend.”
“Huh.”
“My father was killed by Pol Pot in 1975.”
“Oh. Shit.”
“He was a university lecturer. In 1977 our family was evacuated to the forests to farm and escape the Khmer Rouge.”
In 1977 I was watching Star Wars. In the theater.
“I learned to speak English in the forest, in secret, because the Khmer Rouge would beat us if we tried to learn to speak English.”
I spend much of the rest of the day blinking frequently and regularly clearing my throat. But oppressed or not, the fucker’s still taller than I am. “Um, is it just me, or is this camera strap feeling heavier? Whoo! It’s getting kinda hard to breathe.”
“Here we are at Angkor Wat.” We get out the car. “What did you do yesterday?”
“We went to a children’s hospital.” It was a really good place, the nicest I’ve seen in the developing world. People have a tendency to romanticize children and childhood. Still, there’s something about seeing happy kids, whether they’re yours or not.
“Would you like to take a picture by this pool? The temple is reflected in it.”
“Okay.” He takes my picture for me. “Hey, I’ve got an idea – stand here.” I dig my Polaroid camera out of my bag, snap his picture, and hand him the little photo. “Wait a minute.” His face and the temple behind it materialize out of the grey film. He smiles. It would have felt like a totally lame gesture if it hadn’t have been spontaneous.
“Thank you.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“How long are you here on tour?”
“I’m leaving Friday, but I’m not here on tour. To tell you the truth, I always feel kinda guilty if I take a holiday.” I smile like it’s a joke. We keep walking towards the temple, dissolving into the sea of tourists.
“I hope you enjoy your stay here.”
“Thank you.” I’m glad I listened to everyone’s advice and went site-seeing.
