Cambodia is a fascinating country, one unlike any place I’ve ever been before. I knew that, in a sense, going in, since the few hours I’d spent in Asia were on the opposite side of the continent. But aside from being a contrast to other countries, Cambodia is a contrast to itself.
In Cambodia, East met West and they got smashed and jumbled together.
And this is never clearer than during a tuk-tuk ride to the mall.
On our way, we pass by – actually, we are passed by – hundreds of motorbikes darting in and out of traffic. Asia, right? As we drive down the wide boulevard. Europe. (It’s even called Russian Boulevard!)
The buildings that we see almost go in a strange procession: French rowhouses, then Khmer temples, then modern constructions that combine the two or look like they could have come from anywhere. There is no rhyme or reason to their placement; Cambodia is the kind of place that has pastry shops and spas (the legit ones) just blocks away from open-air markets where a live fish might flop out of a food stand onto your foot. My favorite thing is seeing oxen grazing outside of a Honda factory. Only in Asia!
Power lines crisscross the streets we traverse in a multitude I have never seen matched at home, or anywhere else.
And the signs! I haven’t seen many neon signs, but otherwise every single little shop has an awning out front, a huge sign on the top with its name. Weirdly enough, however, all the dentist’s offices have pictures of smiling white families plastered in their windows. All of them. Out in the countryside, instead of having billboards displaying ads, the advertisements are pasted onto the houses that line the highways.
This intriguing cultural collision continues at our ministry.
Because we’re teaching at a Bible College this month, we’re as likely to hear English as we are to hear Khmer. Our schedule may start a little earlier than it would at home (luckily for us sleepy teachers, the 5:30 devotional is optional) but it closely resembles a typical Western school day.
During the week, we eat dinner with the students, so we go back and forth between American cooking and traditional Khmer food. We have a kitchen very similar to the one I had in Spain – the lack of oven being the main drawback. Of course, our fridge is as stocked with soy sauce and weird produce as it is with milk, butter, and packaged meat. (No longer do we get the pleasure of watching freshly killed chickens being plucked!)
With all of these things in the mix, Cambodia has not been what I expected it to be. Sure, I’ve taken dozens of tuk-tuk rides. I visited the ancient temples and gazed at a bit of the jungle in the rain. But on the whole, I have seen so many pieces of other places – a mountain that reminds me of Peru, a dirt road that reminds me of Africa, a mall that reminds me of home – that have all been made distinctly Cambodian merely by coexisting.
If only the rest of the world could coexist in this same nonchalant fashion.
