Cambodian cuisine surprise, and other tidbits

Expect to eat rice in Cambodia. It is the world's 9th largest exporter, by value.

This post is dedicated to Darlene Burt and Peggy Sikorski, two ladies who have made a little difference in the lives of children this year. Darlene is an ongoing sponsor of The Shoe That Grows; Peggy just donated funds for more One World Futbols which I will pack on some future trip to places they are needed.

This posting is also dedicated to Janie Ballard and Shirley Ganse, two ballroom dance friends, who recently visited Italy to study Italian cuisine. That inspired me to including in this posting my experience with Cambodian cuisine, immediately below, before I post some final photos.

My most memorable Cambodian cuisine experience

For group meals, I would join my friend, Jay, with several Cambodian associates, who naturally were accustomed to the fare. So I'm guessing that mention on the menu of ant eggs as a garnish to a dish would be perfectly natural for them, but it seemed rather exotic to me.

Frankenfish is delicious

 Some of the exotic items I tried in Cambodia were quite delicious -- snakehead fish, for example. In America, the snakehead is giving fish and game officials nightmares. It's called the "Frankenfish" for it's voracious appetite, as well as its ability to breathe air and cross land from one water body to another. And there it was, soaking in the bowl on our table along with several other mysteries of the deep -- and the land.

But it's quite tasty, actually, if you don't mind the bones -- and there are a lot of them. If they weren't such a threat to other fish, snakehead would be a cheap, delicious source of protein for Americans.

The utility of chicken bones

Before I encountered my "cuisine surprise," I found myself having trouble adjusting to food that Cambodians seem to love: tripe, for example, or the little item that looked like a tiny bow tie with wings and turned out to be chicken liver. And that round dark morsel I had placed on my plate? Chicken stomach. I deal with a lot of these things by hiding them under the pile of chicken bones on my plate so as not to insult the host. And I ate a lot of chicken. Yes, it's a fowl meal (sorry, couldn't help myself) but normally it's pretty safe. Normally.

The indelible, angry glare

There was one particular chicken item that will be indelibly etched in my memory. It happened at  one meal attended by several Cambodian officials. Kind of important guys, I think. I teased a large round, very dark piece of bone and protein out of a bowl and onto my plate. When I spooned it up, I couldn't tell how to separate flesh from bone, and I moved in to give it a really close look to see what that pointy thing was on one side of the morsel. It was when it was about three inches from my face that I realized the item on my spoon had an eye that was glaring up at me, and it was not pleased.

It was at that precise moment that I shrieked (in an almost subdued, manly way) and the chicken head took flight from my spoon, landing in a tiny bowl of fish sauce. No-one at the table batted an eye or even looked up -- the kind of gracious audience you wished for that time you accidentally farted loudly in church.

Ok, now for the photos. Let's think about food a little more. . .

The Banyan Tree restaurant  on the road to Phnom Penh caters to tourists--very "Americanized."

It's easy to see the cashews and the chicken. No question that it's rice. the Veggies are familiar.

The menu board is user friendly.

View from the bus

To visit Angkor Wat, I traveled from Phnom Penh to Siem Reap. A 6-hour, $15-$18 ride in an air-conditioned bus with WiFi. It provided an opportunity to see the countryside, and to snap photos from the window.

Cambodian buses can be very comfortable.

It was Sunday, and folks were shopping at a sort of strip mall enroute from Siem Reap.

This is a reminder that there's a lot of water in Cambodia.

Other means of transportation in Cambodia

Tooks are everywhere. This is a mid-sized, perhaps large enough to justify that roof.

I never saw a bike in Cambodia with a cross bar. All bikes are "girls" bikes.

View from the tuk tuk, a sort of motorized rickshaw

My Siem Reap tuk tuk driver from the bus station to my hotel.

This was my $20-per-night hotel room in Phnom Penh

An armoire, small fridge, writing table, TV, WiFi, and a wide double bed.

On the left, put your room key in a slot and the lights come on. The bathroom is the shower.

A few more temple photos, starting with Angkor Wat

Religious perspective: Many Cambodians keep a small shrine like the one at the right at the entry way to their homes, to keep evil spirits away. But what about the images below -- one a linga too big for three men to hoist, and the other a Buddha with a protective serpent guarding its back? It's like an enormous phallic symbol next to a crucifix. Forgive me, but I find this fascinating. I ask your forgiveness, because "fascinate" is related to "fascina," phallic symbols which were amulets carried by young Roman boys and soldiers as protection against the evil eye. That's right, those Roman statues and images of penises were involved in navigation, fertility, directional indication, protection, luck and prosperity. Fascina were fashioned into wind chimes to protect and grant fortune to homes. So maybe a linga works  like a crucifix.

At left, a lingua that three men couldn't lift. At right, a Buddha backed up by a protective serpent.

More exquisite temple stone work

One Bayon Temple stone carving depicts fallen sailors attacked by crocodiles. 

More odds and ends

Snails can be enormous in Cambodia. Money is cheap: 1,000 Riel = 25 cents.

Left; Instructions in a Cambodian toilet. Right: Marketing in a Korean toilet.

This fisheries monitoring station cost $1,500 to build.

On a private pond, a fisherman casts his net for fish left behind as Tonle Sap River recedes. . .

. . . then he pulls in the haul and picks out the fish.

Well, I think I'm out of Cambodian stories. But there's still a story or two to share about Malawi. In my next post, I'll tell you about the "soccer mom" of the neighborhood where I stayed.

Until then,
Love,
Robert

Vuthy -- Eyewitness to the Khmer Rouge

My friend, Jay, with Vuthy, a survivor of the Khmer Rouge

Seattle, Nov. 22, 2018 --Less than a week ago, two remaining Khmer Rouge ringleaders were given life sentences for their participation in the Cambodian genocide in the late 1970s. That was a timely announcement, because I had returned only a week earlier from Cambodia, after an interview with a man who was enslaved by the Khmer Rouge. His name is Vuthy.

I've known Vuthy for more than four years, having met him in 2014 on my first visit to Cambodia. I was accompanying my friend, Jay Hastings, who has been operating a no-interest loan for Cambodian fishing villages for the past 10 years.

2014--Jay consults with Vuthy during a visit to a fishing village.

Vuthy was working for the Cambodian Fisheries Administration. He was involved in transporting us to fishing villages and acting as interpreter. Now four years later, I've aged a bit, but he looks as young as ever, and it was good to see him again. Before I returned, Jay asked me to interview Vuthy to produce a brief biographical sketch for the doners to his no-interest loan program.  The interview took place Nov. 10, 2018, at the Phnom Penh Ratanak Hotel the day we returned to the States. Time was short, so this is only part of what could be a much larger story. But it offers a perspective we all can learn from. Here it is:

Vuthy's Story

Vuthy believes he was born about 1962, the year of the tiger. He doesn't know the date, because his mother, while she was good with numbers, wasn't so good with words; she was functionally illiterate, and yet she was the primary breadwinner in a family of 8. She was a merchant and a lender of sorts. Sometimes she was paid back in rice; she made a point of receiving the rice when it was cheap and selling it when it was dear. This particularly worked well for her when farmers produced only one crop a year. The family lived on rural land in Kampong Thom Province. Their house rested on a slab foundation and was served with an indoor squat toilet. The merchandise she sold from the home included food, clothing and farming tools.

Vuthy's mother was industrious and frugal. She never spent money on entertainment; she never went out to dinner, preferring to curtail expenditures by cooking at home. When one of Vuthy's sisters purchased an entire kilo of pork for the family, mother was not pleased for the daughter's spendthrift ways.

Vuthy's father was capable and literate, but less driven. He was a chess addict and spent a lot of time at the game. But he also was a carpenter who made tools for rice mills, bamboo baskets and fish traps and houses. And although he did not directly farm, he hired farm workers for the family's land.

Still, mother was the major breadwinner of the family, and she set the tone of life in the home. It was largely due to her drive that her children had the education that had escaped her. Of the six children two girls started secondary school and one finished; one boy finished secondary school and two completed college. Vuthy has a Master's Degree. The children came in three year intervals except for the third, who arrived five years after Vuthy was born.

The birth order of boys and girls from the oldest was B-G-G-B-B-G. Vuthy was the third boy and second from the youngest. When he was 9 years old, he served as a monk for a few years. Vuthy's father died in 1985 at 70 years of age, most likely from kidney disease. His mother passed in 1997, five years after she sustained a stroke that left her at least partially paralyzed and bedridden.

Rural life was a key to survival

During the 1970s, when Pol Pot's Khmer Rouge fought Lon Nol for control of the country, the family's rural life style became their best friend. As the Khmer Rouge ascended to dominance they envisioned three categories for the inhabitants of Cambodia, soon to become Kampuchea. Category one involved people who lived a rural life style unsullied by capitalistic culture. Category two included those from rural society who were exposed to capitalistic society, but were still forgivable. Category three were those largely identified as the enemy, with thousands destined for extermination.

Vuthy's eldest sibling, a brother, was an accountant for the Marines with Lon Nol; as the Khmer Rouge gained the upper hand, he disappeared. His fate is unknown. Vuthy was moved from the countryside under Lon Nol's policies to a place in Kampong Thom Province for two years where he was tainted with capitalistic exposure. However, because of his rural background, he, his parents, and his other siblings were among the acceptable or forgivable. His parents came through relatively unscathed.

Enemies of the state--adults and children destined for torture and execution at notorious S-21 camp.

Former enemies of the state. Click on Killing Fields, for 2014 blog post.

Those who did not fare well were soldiers who had served Lon Nol; people of Vietnamese heritage, including the descendants in mixed marriages; and police. It was difficult for individuals to conceal their heritage, because the elders of the villages knew those in the community and could turn them in. From what Vuthy shares, it appears he had reason to be afraid, but not terrified. It seems that he was not directly threatened with death, but he witnessed people who were marked for death. This included one occasion where he saw an individual he recognized fleeing with his hands tied behind his back; shortly afterward, a group of Khmer Rouge sympathizers showed up, probably in search of him.

Vuthy climbing palm

 Giving up possessions

At first, under the Khmer Rouge, families could stay put and cooperate with one another. But that changed, and people became isolated. They had to give up their possessions, including their homes and their land. Parents were separated from their children, who were sent to camps. Vuthy's only possessions were his clothing, a plate, bowl and spoon. You lined up for two meals a day and food was placed on your plate or in your bowl. Men and women were separated, and sexual activity was prohibited, except for couples who obtained permission to marry. It may have been a moot point, because people were too exhausted to engage in sex.

10-day work week, morning calisthenics, disease

Vuthy might work six months at a time at different locations. In one instance his job was to haul a cubic meter of earth each day to an earthen dam. Due to the amount of work and the meager rations, his ribs showed and he was constantly weak. He found it difficult to think clearly. He slept side-by-side with other children in a long structure much like a chicken house. At 5:30 a.m. a whistle blew and the children were required to perform military-style calisthenics. There was no breakfast, and no holidays. A day off came after 10 days of work. He suffered from malaria, diarrhea, fevers and an intestinal ailment. Ironically, the reservoir he worked on still operates, although it is situated in a location where it is not easy to see.

In 2014, while visiting one fishing village, Vuthy demonstrated a skill he developed after the Khmer Rouge were driven out of power -- climbing coconut palms, using stubs of leaves on a bamboo pole like rungs on a ladder. He would collect liquid which was turned into sugar, which became his income.

Interview ends

We ran out of time. Jay and I were flying home in the evening, and Vuthy had an appointment. Maybe there will be more to tell in the future. But I came away from the interview with one observation that perhaps will benefit us all: I'm guessing that the secret to the Khmer Rouge's success was to abuse some groups more than others so that the entire population did not revolt. I am wondering whether, although things were bad, a majority of the population was kept ignorant of how bad things had really become. A kind of perverse divide and conquer.

The message here is that for democracy to work all people --everyone  -- matters, and we have to remember to care and to question.

Love,

Robert

Pagans, temples and fecundity

Photo by David Biviano

Man walks into a jungle. Big, thick jungle. Then he runs into a wall. A big, big long wall. Does this sound like the beginning of a joke? Are you waiting for the punchline? There is no punchline.  The man has just discovered one gargantuan religious structure -- the largest religious structure ever built. Welcome to Angkor Wat. 

This is a story I've been waiting to share. One of the reasons I went to Cambodia this year -- aside from seeing how my village was doing and delivering unbreakable soccer balls -- was to see this incredible structure and write about it. Give that up. You can only see so much of this and other temples before your brain erupts. And I can only begin to tell you about Cambodia's religious architecture. But I recommend you spend some time on Google and read about these places. It will be time well spent.

I took a bus to Siem Reap, the major city by Angkor Wat, to meet up with my friend, David Biviano, who offered to set me up with a driver and trained guide, two young men who were with him when he operated an orphanage in Siem Reap. They are now grownups, but they still treat him as if he were their dad. Before we took in Angkor Wat, we decided to go to the headwaters of the Siem Reap river, which provided an unforgettable glimpse on what it means to be a pagan, a concept I am gradually getting my head around.

Linga lore

The outing to the headwaters involved an hour's drive out of town, where we entered a jungle park by hiking up, most of the way, what likely was a dry waterfall, awaiting the return of the monsoons. The earth under feet was an extremely fine reddish sand, next to large blocks of sandstone -- the type of stone likely used to build Angkor Wat. Our driver, San Lay, stayed with the vehicle while David and our guide, Phalla, went in search for what lay in wait for us at the Siem Reap headwaters.

Phalla (pronounced "Paula") displayed  the strength of a really long jungle vine by swinging on it.

Yes, that's a vine, and it runs for a long way.

This unusual vine formation is called a "monkey ladder."

Huge sandstone boulders shed fine sand on the trail that could be perilous for its dry slickness.

I came into contact with my first linga at the headwaters, and how impressive they were: some barely the size of the back of my hand, and one a few feet across. Oh, I should explain. The linga, as I understand it, is the male organ of the God Shiva. The Yoni is the vagina or womb of Oma, Shiva's wife. The picture below is a cutaway of them forming, as we Americans might say, a more perfect union.

There's a lot of this going on at the Siem Reap headwaters. To wit, the photo below, which shows a whole lot of linga gathered together.

These are not stepping stones to be walked on. These are Shiva's linga. 

In the photo below you see how the linga look from the side.

So why do so many linga linger here?

Why so many linga? It's the economy, stupid. These are here to make the rice grow. Cambodia is built something like a cup, and in that bowl is grown an enormous amount of rice. As the waters from the Siem Reap flow over Shiva's linga, they bring fertility to the land below, promising an abundant rice harvest. It seems to work, because Cambodia is an important player in the world's rice market.

A short way downstream, the Siem Reap carries fertility from countless linga to rice fields below.

The stream spills over a waterfall under which visitors may cool down.

The young child in the photo at right was diffent than most of the individuals who wanted to sell us something when we got back to our vehicle. We asked her how many postcards she was selling and she counted out 10 in English. and it turns out she could speak in five different languages. They were remarkably inexpensive compared to what you pay in the states -- I got the whole pack for $2 as well as an opportunity to speak with a young polyglot. Anyone want some? -- I don't use postcards. The Ta Prohm Temple in this photo at the right is falling victim to the encroaching jungle.

Before returning to Siem Reap (the city), we visited the Banteay Srei, the so-called "citadel of women", a.k.a. the Pink Temple. The latter name refers to its red sandstone. It was built around 967, and its carvings still show stunning detail for their age.

Morning comes to Angkor Wat

The next day we rose early to see Angkor Wat at sunrise. And yes, it was dark when we got there.

A banyan tree marked the path to a floating bridge that would take us to Angkor Wat.

The darkness didn't help. David went in search of a bathroom, and the darkeness prevented him from seeing a drainage canal. Fortunately all he did was scrap his shin and sprain an ankle; it could have been much worse. After visiting Angkor Wat for a bit he headed home and it was just me and Phalla at this enormous site. At this point, I'm not going to say much unless the picture calls for a caption. But here's something to keep in mind: There are some kinds of records that indicate thousands of artisans -- and even thousands of elephants -- were involved in building Angkor Wat. It covers 401 acres, which is almost two thirds of a square mile of ground.

Phalla explained the breasts shine because women rub them hoping theirs will become just as firm.

Indulgence? You get a blessing from this young monk and a wrist band, for a donation.

This was the side facing the sun in early morning.

The site is buffered from the outside world by a wall of jungle.

Staircases are unnervingly steep.

Many of the Buddhas were beheaded; this one wasn't. 

There is a time when nit-picking is perfectly acceptable.

Everyone has his hands full fighting with this extremely long snake.

The day was still young, so Phalla and I headed for Bayon Temple, entering through the gate in the photo below.

The gate to Bayon temple is well guarded.

The first thing to understand about Bayon Temple is that it has an enormous amount of carvings that are in excellent shape, and which depict battle -- and battle tactics! -- as well as everyday life. Below is an example of how exquisite the carvings can be.

Knowledgeable viewers can recognize the ethnicity of figures in the carvings.

This carving depicts a battle tactic of  secretly swimming under the enemy's boat during battle

These four-faced columns are an identifier for Bayon Temple.

These cairns provided a teaching moment -- a new word for Phalla.

I explained something to the guide that he apparently didn't know -- and he was well trained, with several months of training under his belt at the cost of a few thousand dollars. These are cairns, I said, and they likely were left by people from all over the world who were hikers. A few days later, however, in Korea, I was told that the cairns at temples there might have been created by monks. Hmmm.

Here's another thing I shared with Phalla: I suspect Christians react entirely differently than Pagans when they encounter a phallic symbol. A few years ago, in Pompeii, I was standing at the entry way to a Roman villa, gazing at a mural of a centurion with a penis about 3 feet long. This was the image that had appeared on postcards to titillate tourists. I wondered what kind of man would put such a representation of himself at his front door. The answer from our guide: He was not flouting sexuality; he was praying for fecundity. I think the linga is not an appeal to lust so much as it is an expression of reverence for the life force.

Well, just when you think Shiva isn't watching,  you turn a corner and there's his  knee-high linga.

We visit Phalla's former home

It seems to be a right of passage for at least some young men in a Buddhist country to serve as monks. This was true for Phalla, and on our way back to town we stopped in the community where he had served.

This is the community where Phalla lived as a monk when he was a young man.

This now-vacant structure was Phalla's home, where he lived alone.

It seems strange to be walking through a cluster of buildings inhabited by young monks, but Phalla assurred me it was all right. We approached the gray building where he had lived, pried the unused door open, and entered. Across the room, in the dimness, I could make out a stairway. He held his cell phone lantern at the base of the stairs to make out the strange formation next to the stairs. It was a termite's nest.

Termites created that mound of dirt that is overtaking the stairway.

On the opposite wall was a milestone of sorts--writing on the wall signifying Phalla's last day at this house: Monday, Oct. 25, 2006. The termites had a full 12 years to begin building that mound next to the staircase.

Korean temples and forts

A week later, November 10, I was passing through what I think of as the world's most civilized airport, although I couldn't find the sleeping quarters of mats, lazy boys and other comfort items for weary travelers which I have become accustomed to. But I did get my free tour, courtesy of the Korean government, to Jeondeungsa Temple and Deokjinjin Fortress.  Again, most of the photos speak for themselves, but some will come with captions.

The gate to Jeondeungsa Temple, a contrast of traditional and modern architecture.

The monk with the microphone was chanting.

I feel a little strange sticking a camera in the face of a praying monk, so I kept my distance. In the photo at right you can see a pile of bananas and what appear to be round fruit in the center of the photo. This building was one of several in the compound. The temple dates to the fourth century and was rebuilt in the 13th century.

The chain dissuades those who want to ring the bell.

As we returned to our bus the vegetables for kimchi were on sale, along with the finished product.

Next stop: Deokjinjin Fortress

 It doesn't really look like a fortress, does it? It's like wearing a tuxedo to a knife fight. Behind and below this building, overlooking the Yellow Sea, is the Namjang Battery, a set of 10 cannon behind a berm that aim out at the water. The battery was destroyed in 1871 in a battle with American forces (!), and renovated in 1977.

Golden ginko leaves, newly fallen, grace the path to the guns.

With such a narrow portal, the guns seem more of a historical embellishment than a defense.

Ginko leaves lie as fallen sailors behind the battery.

Beneath the emplacements, a large rice field looks out over the Yellow Sea.

Below the ramparts and the overcast sky, local fishermen seek a meal from the Yellow Sea.

Back on the bus, a member of our tour group offers the American tourist some roasted chestnuts.

A quick photo of the "culture of cute" before boarding the plane.

Maybe I'm getting lazy, but I think it's just being realistic. Everyone on my distribution list is pretty bright, so I assume these photos haven't needed a lot of explanation. I hope so anyway.

There's more to tell about Africa, and there might be something to share about Cambodia. I'll have to think about that.

For now, I'll just say
Love,
Robert