Motorbike Sir?

Has anyone ever played this game called “stare at the barang“? (Barang means foriegner in Khmer). Cambodians love to play this game. It involves them sitting or standing in one place and watching every movement you make with intense concentration. The barang loses when he/she wigs out after being stared at for too long. The barang wins if he/she does or says something purposefully to make the Cambodian laugh. It is not a difficult game to master. I am sure it is played in many other parts of the world, particularly developing ones.

Boom Boom Dave is in town with his bike from Siem Reap, so we decided to head down towards Sihanoukville via Kampot. It was another 4-day holiday celebrating the father-king’s birthday. The old coot is in too poor health to leave the confines of his Bejing residence. Pooja was supposed to meet us down in Sihanoukville while we took the backroads.

Saturday morning I woke up with a moderate hangover from Halloween festivities of the previous evening. There was a party at James’ new pad. I came in a decent costume of a Cyclo driver, though I was pretty disappointed at the lack of costumes from other attendees. After a bacon and egg baguette from Mama’s, we headed out. A flat rear tire on my bike delayed us for an hour and a half as some locals tried to repair my tube three different times.

We made our way southward, enjoying ourselves thoroughly along the dilapidated road. It eventually degenerated into a shallow stream, which normally does not pose a problem for dirt bikes. At around 5:00 or so, we were cruising along the road/stream when Dave and his RMX fell into the water. He quickly pulled it up and we began checking it out for signs that water had gotten into the air box and carburettor. Both appeared fairly dry as the usually contingent of locals emerged from he rice paddies to stare/laugh/point at two barangs and their misfortune.

After about 30 minutes of unsuccessful attempts to start the bike, darkness fell and we accepted a local farmer’s invitation to sleep at his house just up the road. As soon as we arrived, the games began. There are many variations on the staring game, such as “watch the barang get undressed” “watch the barang take a shower”, and “watch the barang sit.”

The matriarch of the family cooked us up quite a feast for dinner. It was the most delicious meal I have ever had. Along with a pot of rice, there was a bowl full of two-inch fish cooked in some sort of rank fish sauce (for those of you unfamiliar with fish sauce, it is common to most Asian countries. It is made by grinding up fish and letting them ferment in barrels in the sun for a number of weeks). I ended up eating more bones than meat. The other dish was a mystery vegetable and other supposed edible ingredients sautéed into a repulsive slop. I ate a respectful spoonful and then moved back to the fish.

After dinner, the family was kind enough to provide us with a mosquito net and a pillow. Once we got all settled into our bed, the family played some more staring games until they grew tired and went to sleep. Aside from some dogs barking at the wind next to my ear around midnight, I slept pretty good.

We woke at dawn and were able to solve our bike problems in about an hour (some water had gotten into the wire leading to the spark plug). We said a grateful thanks and presented the family with a crisp $10 note for their troubles before leaving for Kampot.

A 3-egg omelette with all the fixin’s and a cup of coffee filled my stomach once we pulled into the Rusty Keyhole in Kampot. It more than made up for the previous evening’s meal. I basked in the morning sun overlooking the fishing boats making their way out to see with Bokor Mountain looming in the background. Kampot is one of the more picturesque towns in Cambodia, and it is especially gorgeous this time of year with the rice fields at their apex. Our stay was brief as we made our way over to Sihanoukville shortly before noon.

I spent a few days on the beach, at Chiva’s of course. Due to some unexpected business in Phnom Penh, Pooja couldn’t make it down to join us. After a few days of fun and sun, Tuesday rolled around and I geared up to head back home. I left at about 11:00 am for the usual 3 hour journey to the city. Everything was fine for the first 25 km when suddenly my bike died. Now over the past few weeks I have been having a number of problems and have made numerous repairs including: new piston rings, wheel bearings, drive shafts, gaskets, chains, sprockets, and cables. I am not sure whether I have just been unlucky or my bike is just getting too old (it is a ’93, and I have been riding it a lot).

So I let a local mechanic try to work some magic into my semi-reliable steed in his rudimentary shop. No one spoke English, but my Khmer was good enough to understand it was an electrical problem. A few locals were at the shop playing some chess (over some money of course) when all of a sudden the two players both grabbed the money pot and began arguing quite intensely over the winnings. It appeared the two were going to come to blows a number of times (including one instance where a hammer was raised, poised to strike a blow), but some other locals were able to calm the two parties down. I eventually gave up on the mechanic and resolved myself to finding some transport for myself and bike back to Phnom Penh.

I was hoping for a cargo pickup truck, but the residents assured me that my best bet would be a tourist vehicle. Sure enough, they were able to flag down an overloaded minibus willing to bring me home. They strapped my bike to the back and I climbed in next to (including the driver and his co-pilot) 22 other souls crammed in a vehicle probably rated for 10 people. The drive was miserable (I had no back rest) but was reasonable given the circumstances. I paid $12 for my bike and myself.

So I had a weekend of good fun riding tarnished by bad luck. At least I made it home without injury, and the whole experience has reinforced a few things that I have learned after living in Cambodia for a year.

1. It does no good to wig out, especially at locals. Often times you will be put in an unfortunate situation in which you have no control. Freaking out doesn’t solve anything. I have travelled on many vehicles in this part of the world, most have them have been uncomfortable. But in the end, you usually end up in the destination you meant to go. Sure it usually isn’t the most efficient means of transport, but it works.

2. Things won’t go your way many times in this country. Just when you begin to lose all hope, something will come along that can resolve the problem for a minimal amount of money. Many times I have thought “shit, I am stuck” only to see an opportunistic local round the corner with a solution.

3. Patience. Cambodia can be one frustrating country, but I am a foreigner and choose to live here. Getting stuck, break-downs, and bad food are all apart of the experience and make a semi-decent story afterwards. Look on the bright side and know that it will all be over soon… well eventually.

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PS Sorry, but I didn’t take any pictures of these events. Hopefully my words are enough to give you a mental picture.

Tags: Cambodia

This entry was posted on Wednesday, November 2nd, 2005 at 7:32 am and is filed under Cambodia. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.