Global Reflections

Here in Cambodia, it is very important to keep a clean house, particularly a clean kitchen. I know, it’s important everywhere, but in my mind, it’s beyond important here. It’s essential. The reason? Bugs. Apparently big, nasty bugs are everywhere here, and they love to invade homes. As do tiny ants that can fit through the smallest hole in your “air- and bug-tight” containers. Apparently the only way to keep the little monsters away is to be hyper vigilant about crumbs and cleanliness, to go above and beyond when storing food in airtight containers, and to be prepared with a veritable army of bug-zapping, ant-trapping, roach-killing products.

Just to let you know, I despise bugs of all types and of all sizes. A spider will send me calling for Jeff to come kill it. Ants in the house will have me reaching immediately for the deadliest chemicals I can find. A roach will send me scurrying away, to return to the room only with immense trepidation after turning all the lights on and leaving them on for several seconds, preferably with Jeff in tow to destroy the ugly monster. Yes, I do realize how hysterical it must be that someone like me is living here.

I say all this so that you will understand the horror with which I realized, after dinner on our first night here, that I had neglected to request that our sponsor stock our new home with dish soap. How was I to banish every hint of food from the oh-so-sensitive nostrils of my enemy if I didn’t have the proper tools? There was only one thing to do. I rinsed the dishes thoroughly, scrubbed them with a wet washcloth to remove every visible sign of use, stacked them in the sink, and made plans to do whatever it took to buy dish soap the next day.

Accordingly, the next day, I took Alexa in my arms, put my six U. S. dollars in my pocket (we’d forgotten to bring more cash, and I have no idea where an ATM is in the neighborhood, so that was all I had until Jeff got home from the embassy), and walked down to the corner market. I perused the few aisles and their meager offerings. Milk, diapers, laundry detergent, beer, and ah, there! Dish soap. But that’s no good; that’s for use in a dishwasher, and our house doesn’t have a dishwasher. (Most houses here don’t.) Try again. Nope, no wash-by-hand dish soap. Time to ask for help.

I approached the Cambodian lady who had greeted me as I walked in the door. “Do you have any dish soap? Not for use with a machine, but to wash by hand?”

“Soap? To wash by hand? No machine?”

I nodded.

“Here. This by hand, this by hand, this by hand. This and this by machine.”

I looked in surprise at the items she indicated. I’d thought that all of the merchandise in that section was for washing clothes. Then I noticed a box of Cascade dishwasher detergent on the shelf above where she’d pointed. Reassured, I took her word for what was what. The bags of detergent (whoever heard of powdered wash-by-hand dish soap?) were on the bottom shelf and therefore difficult to see, labeled in Khmer script and therefore impossible to read, and Alexa was getting away from me trying to grab everything in sight, so I didn't have time to verify. I quickly picked up a bag that was marked $5.15 and headed to the cash register.

Once we arrived home, I gleefully headed to the kitchen to make use of my new purchase. I was hoping that I’d find some picture instructions—or better yet, English—on the packaging to let me know how much powder I was supposed to use for a sink full of water. As I examined the bag, I noticed that one of the pictures showed a bucket of sudsy water with a white shirt next to it. Hmm … maybe the dish soap was mixed with the laundry detergent because it was meant to be dual purpose? I examined the package more carefully. Not a picture of a dish anywhere. Then, I saw it, in tiny letters underneath the Khmer script: “Standard Detergent Formula for Hand Wash.” With a nice big picture of a shiny white shirt. This was not meant for dishes. Apparently the woman at the shop had not heard the word “dish” in my question.

But I’m adaptable. I needed to wash the dishes. They couldn’t wait any longer, not if I was to avoid the nasty little things that lay in wait. So I decided to give it a try. Yes, I washed my dishes in laundry detergent. Then I had a nice glass of water in one of my newly washed glasses just to make sure—and no, there was no hint of detergent taste.

Still, I left “dish soap” nice and large on the top of my shopping list for my trip to the supermarket the next day.

Written Saturday, 8 October 2011.

I miss the commissary.

Back in Egypt, one of the privileges that we “embassy people” had was access to the commissary. I admit that I allowed myself to become lazy because of the commissary. I rarely shopped for groceries on the local market. Not even fresh produce. Sure, I could get fresher produce from local vendors, but it was just so easyto buy everything at the commissary. I could get almost anything that I could get in the States, for prices that were similar to—in some cases, lower than—what I’d pay in the States. But even as I lazily shopped the easy way, I wondered … what would it be like to shop like the other expats, the ones without commissary privileges, the ones who go to multiple shops, pay high prices, make substitutions, and do without?

Now I’m learning.

And I miss the commissary.

Our sponsor took us to Lucky Supermarket today to stock up on groceries. She had done some shopping for us before we arrived, but I only requested enough food to get us through a few days. Yesterday I planned my weekly menu and made the grocery list off of it, then added on all the non-grocery items that I’d realized we needed (dish soap, anyone?). By the time I was done, it was a massive list. This afternoon, as my sponsor pulled up, I eyed her SUV and wondered, with the third row seating up, if all my planned purchases would fit.

I won’t go into lots of details about the experience. Frankly, I was so overwhelmed that I couldn’t go into a lot of details if I tried. The store was crowded, the shelves were packed, and I didn’t recognize half of the items. And I found only about 75% of the items on my list. Some of them probably were right in front of me as I stared uncomprehendingly at the squiggly lines (Khmer script, or in some cases maybe Japanese script) and tried to reason out from the pictures what exactly I was looking at. It took me a while to recognize the dish soap—it looked like toilet bowl cleaner. And the toilet bowl cleaner looked like … I’m not sure what, but not toilet bowl cleaner. And some of the prices really made me appreciate the COLA (cost of living adjustment—an increase in pay based on the cost of living, assuming the maintenance of a western lifestyle at post). I mean, really, two and a half dollars for a can of tuna?

We were in there for around 90 minutes. We spent over $200. By the time we left, I knew there were items on my list that I probably could find if I made one more lap around the store. But our tiny grocery cart was full to overflowing, and Alexa alternately was throwing things out of it and throwing things into it, my mind was overwhelmed, my feet were sore, and I was done.

I will get used to this. I will learn to go to the fish market for fresh fish, the vegetable market for fresh produce, and Lucky or one of the other supermarkets for western products. I will learn to adjust my recipes to do without items that are unavailable or that are prohibitively expensive. And I will thank God and the U.S. government for my consumables shipment and for my APO privileges (hello, Amazon.com, my trusty old friend!).

But for now, I just miss the commissary.

Jeff, Alexa, and I just returned home from my first real foray into the streets of Cambodia. I walked down to the convenience store yesterday—a story in itself—but that doesn’t really count because it’s only two or three doors down. This afternoon we went for a real walk.

We had two main goals for this expedition: locate the interdenominational English-language church that, according to its address, is nearby; and get lunch. We left our house around noon, planning to find a restaurant on the way to the church.

We walked a few blocks before we started seeing anything that looked like restaurants. The first one I spotted … well, we aren’t certain whether it was a restaurant or a produce shop. The name and the pictures outside could work for either one. We decided to skip it; even if it was a restaurant, it looked like a salad place, and that isn’t really what we had in mind today.

We stopped at the second restaurant we saw. I don’t recall the name of the place, but it was nice. From the outside, it was clear that it catered to westerners. We had to cross the street to get to it, and one of the employees ran out into the street with a sign to stop the cars (it wasn’t necessary, but it was a nice touch). Another employee opened the door, and a third led us to a table and presented us with menus. Jeff and I ordered sandwiches, and we ordered chicken kebabs for Alexa. Everything was tasty and reasonably priced, and Jeff particularly appreciated the free wifi, which he was able to use with his phone.

Motos

After lunch, we continued on our way to the church, which we found with no problem. On the way, I tried to take in the atmosphere of Phnom Penh. In many ways, it reminded me of Maadi, the wealthy Cairo suburb where we lived until earlier this year. There was trash on the streets, though nowhere near as much as in Egypt. In places, there was a decidedly unpleasant aroma of unknown origin that reminded me of the worst air quality days in Egypt—although it couldn’t have been from the same cause, as it wasn’t all over here and there isn’t anywhere near as much pollution. There were lots of trees, broken sidewalks, and rough roads, just like in Maadi. I even saw one building where I recognized the squiggly lines as Arabic calligraphy rather than the Khmer script that adorns most buildings and signs. Egyptian taxi drivers trying to get our attention were replaced by Cambodian tuk-tuk drivers, who smiled more and acted friendlier than their Egyptian counterparts.

Pretty balconies on a Phnom Penh building

Phnom Penh is different from Cairo in many ways, aside from tuk-tuks and their friendly drivers. The architecture is different, though still foreign, and some of it is beautiful to my American eyes. Traffic was very light, presumably because it’s a weekend. The only time traffic was ever that light in Egypt was on Friday morning. There are traffic lights at the major intersections here, rather than police directing traffic. For the most part, drivers even obey the lights—they fudge some when the counters near zero, indicating that the light is about to change, but overall, they stop when it’s red and go when it’s green. I noticed on Thursday that even during the week, the traffic is nowhere near as heavy as it was in Egypt. Those are the obvious differences that I’ve noticed so far. I’m sure there are others that will become apparent later.

But now it’s time to be off. We’re going to the supermarket to stock up on groceries.

We’ve arrived in Cambodia! After three months in the States, delay after delay in the paperwork, problem after problem with our shipment, we finally arrived in Phnom Penh two days ago. We arrived on Thursday, 6 October, and it now is Saturday, 8 October … although there’s no telling what day it will be by the time this post is published. We don’t have internet yet, so I’m typing and saving and assuming that I’ll be able to get online from the embassy sometime next week, or even that we’ll have our own internet up and running within the week.

The trip was long, but not as painful as I expected. We took 4 flights, with a total flight time of around 25 hours and an additional 17 hours or so waiting in airports (or at the hotel within the airport complex, in the case of the 8-hour “overnight” in Bangkok). We’ve been blessed to have earned a ridiculous number of frequent flyer miles on United, which turned out to be the only—yes, the only—airline that met our travel requirements, so we were able to upgrade from economy to business class for the two longest flights (11 and 7 hours). Business class on those flights made all the difference in our travel experience. We were able to put our feet up, and despite some mechanical problems with my seat, we were able to recline far enough to sleep in relative comfort. Even Alexa got in on the act, as we took her out of her carseat so that she could lie on her daddy’s chest for a while and sleep more comfortably.

So why did we fly United, even though Delta holds the contract for U. S. government travel between Washington, DC, and Phnom Penh? Two reasons. Their names are Cleo and Isis. It was much more difficult than we ever anticipated to arrange to fly two cats as accompanied excess baggage. On the way back from Egypt, we took them in the cabin with us and had no problems … but we were able to do that only because we hired a pet expeditor, who was able to “convince” the airline representatives that they were within the in-cabin weight restrictions. We’ve been told that the airlines in Asia actually weigh the cats, and they are strict in their adherence to the rules. And, well, our cats are fat. Isis weighs approximately three times the upper limit for in-cabin travel, and Cleo is barely above the limit. People here at post told us not to ship the cats as unaccompanied baggage, or we’d have to wait weeks for them to clear customs. That left accompanied baggage. I don’t think Delta actually had a problem with that; the problem was with the regional carrier affiliated with Delta here in southeast Asia. They wouldn’t allow us to bring both cats, or maybe they wouldn’t allow us to bring either cat. I don’t remember, as Jeff is the one who did all the research. But it turns out that Thai Air, affiliated with United, had no problems taking our two fat cats as accompanied baggage. We did end up taking one “extra” flight, though, because United only allows one pet on its DC to Tokyo run. We ended up flying from Baltimore to San Francisco, and then on to Tokyo. From there, we flew to Bangkok, then on to Phnom Penh.

In Bangkok, we had maybe 45 minutes of worry that we wouldn’t be able to continue to Phnom Penh. We had made all the necessary arrangements for the cats, including paying United the associated fees. But Jeff is paranoid, so when we arrived in Bangkok, before we went to the hotel, he checked with the Thai Air representatives to make sure everything was okay. Yes, sir, everything’s fine, just check in before your flight and don’t worry about a thing. Uh huh, right.

It turns out that we had paid United their fees, both for the cats and for the extra bag we brought, but United had not charged us the fees for Thai. It took 45 minutes, three desks, three customer service representatives, and two supervisors to figure out the problem and rectify it. To be fair, though, the first customer service representative was excellent, as she consulted with the others and with her supervisors, and then personally escorted Jeff to the second desk and all of us to the third. She was full of apologies and was careful to make it clear that she realized that we’d done nothing wrong and that none of this hoopla was our fault. We, in turn, tried to make it clear that we realized that she’d done nothing wrong, that Thai had done nothing wrong, and that this hoopla was not their fault, either. So I guess we all decided to lay the blame at the feet of United, who was not there to be offended. I’m not sure if the problem really was that United was supposed to collect all the fees and distribute Thai’s to them, or if the Thai representative from the night before should have realized and told Jeff that there would be additional fees to pay. In any case, it all worked out and we arrived at our gate mere minutes before boarding began. I even had time for a quick trip to the restroom.

From there, it didn’t take long. The flight to Phnom Penh was a little less than an hour. In that time, the flight attendants managed to offer us breakfast and countless cups of tea or coffee. They even provided jars of baby food for Alexa. Luckily, she slept the whole way, so the flight attendants didn't see that she would have rejected their generosity in favor of our grown-up food. Since we've been here, I've noticed that Cambodian servers in restaurants have seemed surprised when we order regular food for Alexa and then even more surprised when she eats it, so I do wonder if it's a cultural thing that toddlers her age still eat baby food here.

I’m not sure if the airport here in Phnom Penh is very small or just very efficiently laid out, but it took us only a few moments to walk from our gate to immigration. A Cambodian man from the embassy met us and helped us to claim our luggage—seven 70-lb bags, a stroller, and two cats, both still alive and meowing furiously—and walk through customs. Our sponsor met us outside and we caravanned in two SUVs to our new home. I didn’t look around as much as I thought I would during the drive; I was too busy chatting with and getting to know our sponsor. My first impressions, though, were positive. There was lots of greenery, interesting and at times beautiful architecture, and traffic that was unruly by American standards but tame by Egyptian ones. I look forward to getting to know the city better in the days, weeks, and months ahead.

We received a pleasant surprise during our drive—our sponsor informed us that our permanent quarters were ready for us. We’d been told previously that we would be in temporary housing until mid-November, as the previous occupant of our house had been asked to stay until mid-October, and then a month would be required for the make-ready. I’m not sure how the quarters were vacated and made ready for us so early, although I assume that the previous occupant didn’t extend his time here after all, but I’m grateful. There are only two downsides to moving directly in here, both very minor: we don’t have immediate internet access as we would have in the hotel, and we are not being forced to become familiar with another area of the city just yet. I’ll gladly accept the delay in internet service and the fact that I must motivate myself—rather than being motivated by where I live—to become familiar with different areas of the city in exchange for knowing that we’re finally home, we don’t have to be ready to move again in a few short weeks, and we can begin the process of settling in fully.

I won’t say too much about our home just yet, as this post is getting long and I want to do it justice with a post of its own. Suffice it to say that this home is spacious, with some beautiful architectural details, and it will meet our needs quite well. More on this later.