One month in!

As of today (9th April) we have been here exactly one month. We’re going out to eat some Khmer food to celebrate later (?!?).

So what’s it like to be 1 month in? Difficult to describe. A big swirl of paradoxical feelings. Have this sense that everything’s normalised too quickly.

In the first few weeks everything felt quite alien, although simultaneously surprisingly familiar, perhaps from having visited Vietnam before, perhaps because in my naivety I kind of expected nothing to work quite the same... does that sound mad? So the fact that you can go and sit in a cafe, and order a fanta (in English) and go back to your hotel room, switch on HBO and watch American movies (yesterday we watched Jo versus the Mountain, which was actually quite entertaining), gives everything this veener of familiarity. Operating in English as well keeps the ground steady under our feet – not forgetting of course that there are two of us, and we’ve made our own little bubble of normal that we walk around in.

So I’m both relieved and disappointed. Everything is strange and yet familiar. I find myself wishing we had gone somewhere that was MORE of a challenge culturally, and yet I know I would feel the same feelings of rapid normalisation there too.

I can’t quite shake this notion that we prepared, or rather we WERE prepared (by VSO), too well. Isn’t an adventure supposed to be full of the unexpected?

And yet I remind myself also that though I may relish the excitement, the ‘experience’ isn’t actually what brought me here. That I came here because I wanted to help in some way, and you look around and it’s undoubtable that help is needed and done right can be useful
in a straightforward
practical
kind of way…

 

Ok, so here’s some perfect timing, right. Mel’s just interrupted my typing with a case in point (though she’s no idea what I’m typing about): I’m sitting in our favourite bar at the moment, The Mekong Crossing – we call it ‘Joe’s’ after its American co-proprietor. And I’m writing this on my laptop, in fact I’m sipping a lovely banana smoothie in case you’re curious – slightly naughty given one of the ingredients is ice, which you’re supposed to steer clear of. The bar has a great view of the Mekong river, into which (our view that is) a few moments ago a guy just casually strolled, turned his back to us to face the river and urinated.
So here’s my point: a few days ago I was jogging along the same path and someone did the same. My reaction? I was mildly appalled, though after a few moments I thought to myself ‘Why not I suppose’. Now it’s happened again and Mel just saw it for her first time. Her reaction: the same as I had.
And yet to me it seemed already so commonplace. In fact I found it hard to even recall my own reaction, though it was only a day or two ago.

 

But here’s the flipside, and it’s paradoxical again. I’m finding that right now while I’m rueing the loss of a certain sense of wonder (and the little tinge of fear and distaste that came with it), the familiarity that’s creeping in is helping me chill out, relax, stop thinking so much about everything I do, and to start to notice and enjoy my surroundings in a way I couldn’t before. So the other day we went on a ride into the countryside on a tuk-tuk, a kind of motorbike-drawn cart, and I started to realise how beautiful I find traditional Khmer houses, which are generally wooden and sit on stilts to keep them from the floods – I remember them from stories my mum told me about Vietnam and Laos growing up.

And today we were walking through the market and I couldn’t help but appreciate the sight of all the fantastic fruit and vegetables and other goods laid out, often just on trays on the floor. They just look fantastic to me.

It’s difficult to explain, but perhaps you understand.

 

 

 

- the view across the Mekong from Joe’s